#if the tapes are there recording? it's no longer private

[seat-safety-switch]

"Uber Eats customer service," beeps the Uber Eats customer service person.

"A bobcat just killed and ate the delivery dude," I express sorrowfully into the receiver. "I'm gonna need a refund."

You might criticize me for being cold to my fellow worker. This is fair, but I am also conditioned by a lifetime of marinating in capitalist ideology to extract maximum value from the $50 gift card I just found in the parking lot. And the Arby's dinner I bought with it is currently residing inside the stomach of Lynx rufus, or maybe just a really big stray tabby.

Either way, there is nothing that I can do for the former person that my phone tells me was named Emil. Even if I were to kill and eat the aggressive bobcat myself in a misguided attempt to avenge him, it would merely serve as a sort of tragedy turducken, and possibly even be illegal. While ruminating on just how long I have to wait for the bobcat to digest Emil's remains before it's no longer cannibalism-via-proxy, I notice that the line has been silent for quite awhile. As I have been trained by many similar systems, I immediately yell a compound profanity, triggering an elevation to the next level of call centre operator. No doubt the recording of this call is already in their private collection of "all-time bests," right next to the tape of the Uber guy who's afraid of clowns valiantly trying to deliver to a circus.

After a few seconds, a new operator switches onto the line. "Sir, we're going to refund your entire order, and rate Emil five-stars. His family will receive the customary Uber Eats death benefits, and he will be buried in our veteran's cemetery with full corporate honours. Is there anything else I can help you with today?"

"Yeah," I drawl, already becoming tired of asserting my rights as a consumer. "Do you know if Arby's still makes those deli sandwiches?"

[tryagainenthusiast]

jeong jaehyun (n)sfw alphabet

mdni!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

he’s alllll up on you, literally unable to disconnect himself from you. if he’s not holding you against his body, arms wrapped so tightly you start to think that your circulation is being cut, he’s following you around the house like a lost puppy. when you stand up to shower he jumps up to grab you a towel, and your clothes, continuing to pepper kisses across your shoulders and neck as you walk into the shower where he joins you and mumbling small compliments into your skin.

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

what does he spend all that time in gym for if not to throw you around like you’re the weight of a feather? his favourite part of his own body is his muscles, only because he knows that you like them and when you are happy so is he. “happy wife happy life.” he secretly likes when you take a little longer to gaze at his biceps when he carries something heavy, or after going to the gym together; so feeling you grab onto his arms during sex stirs something up in him that he has never felt before.

its also a crime to say that jaehyun is anything but a boob man. don’t get me wrong, he appreciates a good ass (specifically yours), he enjoys an occasional slap, a hand softly placed on the curve of your ass just to touch you. but your boobs are on another level…his favourite thing to do is squish them at literally any moment he can. the sensation of the flesh filling out the spaces between his fingers is something he craves when he is away from you, not even just in a sexual way—but because it makes him feel close to you. and the fact that you would let him do that to you makes him feel a little soft inside. during sex though, they’re the second most viewed thing (the first being your pretty face); he’ll put them in his hands, his mouth, against his skin, you name it, he wants it.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

apart from in you? he’s not a super fanatic of doing things with cum, just like any man he likes to see his cum all over your lips after you’ve given him a blowjob to use his fingers and swipe it across your lips like lip gloss. to be honest, most of all he likes to see the look on your face when he has your cum on his chin and nose, letting it glisten under the dim lights of your room.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

the thought of recording his own porno just for yours and his eyes really plagues his mind. every time you and him get intimate there is a little thought in the back of his head that wonders what it would look like from another person’s perspective, and the way that your little breaths and moans reverberate into the mic and speakers. being able to look back on videos whenever he pleases, whenever he misses you enamours him and is something he wishes to have. he’s a private person, it would never see the outside of your bedroom, and whenever a member tries to go through his phone he immediately snatches his phone out of their hand. he wouldn’t ask you to film a sex tape right from the get-go though, it would start subtly with a couple of sexts, then the exchanging of a couple nudes, then maybe having phone-sex when he’s abroad. he would only bring it up later into the relationship when he knows that you are enjoying doing things like this as much as he is.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

virgin? obviously not. extremely experienced sex master? also no. he knows what he’s doing, he knows the steps and what women generally enjoy. i mean, how can you go wrong with head? however, he’s in his element when he’s with you. being in a long term relationship with you means that he can get to know more than the surface, he knows ever single curve of your figure and where his hands fit perfectly, and what things get your face to flush and your lips to part. you give the experience he needs, and it only gets better the longer you are together because you get to explore different things that he and you like.

F = Favourite position (this goes without saying)

apart from missionary, where he gets to see your face and all it’s little micro expressions, your boobs that are always nice to look at too obviously. its the fully package really, all within reach of his greedy hands. it gets better when you put your leg on his shoulder and he was some leverage to grab on to, and to turn his head to press his lips against your skin. he also likes the face off position, a more intimate cowgirl where he feels most connected to you. the skin-to-skin contact, being able to press worn out kisses all over your face and wrap his arms around your shoulders to bring you even closer to him while you ride him. the real deal.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

it can vary, when you first started dating he would try to act more serious because he would be overthinking everything and trying to make sure it felt good for you. he also wanted to seem like a serious candidate for you. but the more times that you get intimate, because he is the most unserious person at heart, he can’t help but letting a laugh slip sometimes. like, you haven’t ever laughed at a queef before????? it’s funny. also just the feeling of being so happy and so intimate with you, literally the closest two people can get can be overwhelming, in a good way, which makes laughing feel like the only right thing to do.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

it would be weird if that happy trail of his led to nothing, but its cleaned up, he takes care of himself.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

so romantic, he thinks that literally every movement of yours is the most beautiful thing ever, so graceful and so pretty. he likes to see the way your hands sometimes grip around the bedsheets, and to encase your hand with his to spread his warmth. his lips struggle to leave your skin, whether it be your lips, your neck, your jawline or anywhere where he can feel the goosebumps that riddle your skin and the sweetness of your natural scent. the lights in your room are always dim and there’s always a playlist of rnb playing quietly during it. he is able to romanticise every little movement and every noise, being with you is an experience on a different plane of existence and he wants to savour every single moment of it. he prefers to go slowly, lots of talking and smiling and giggling.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcannon)

when he’s away, he seems like the type to let you know that he is jerking off. he only resorts to doing so when you aren’t around and the whole time he’d be thinking of you. you’d be alone in your bed in the dead of night, sleeping on his side of the bed to smell his presence and then receive a text message. it wouldn’t be explicit or anything, something like “thinking of you right now” and you’d just know exactly what he was doing. he would never ask you to send nudes, but when you’re in the right mood you would send him something to usher him on.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

honestly, he doesn’t seem like a very kinky person, but he’d be willing to try new things for you. when you ask him to try using his tie as a blindfold he would say yes, and he would enjoy watching you squirm and twitch under him when he ghost his fingers along your body. he liked to slap your ass prior, but seeing the surprise mixed with pleasure when your eyes were covered was even more enjoyable. on his birthday, when you asked to blindfold him and give him his birthday surprise he was hesitant, but he trusted you enough to let you do that to him. he enjoyed it, but he thinks it’s because it was your hands that were touching him and heightening his senses, letting him focus on sensations that he had never before. so as long as it was something that you wanted to do, he’s just happy to take part—although i think he would draw the line at things that hurt you seriously.

i see him liking the idea of public sex too, not too public obviously. but cars and rooms that are separated only by paper-thin walls excite him. being able to make you moan and having the headboard creak only to just walk out of the room and act like nothing happened is amusing to him.

breeding kink????? are you joking? of course. he is just waiting for the day that the two of you are fully ready for a child, and you give him the green light to go all in. until then, he likes to play with fate and do it rawwwwww.

L = Location (favourite places to do the do)

other than in your bed, his favourite place is the couch in your living room. the atmosphere of the tv that usually plays in the back, shining different colours on your face from the movie that was long forgotten about. the blinds are usually slightly ajar, reflecting your profiles in the window that he likes to take a quick glance at, and playing up to the fact that someone could see the two of you—a picture perfect snapshot that he would capture with this film camera if he could.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

domestic girlfriend. homey girlfriend…should i continue? i know a pile of laundry hates to see him coming because it’s never actually going to be done. ever since moving in with you, the sight of you doing things that are ordinary have riled him up like he has never been before. the curve of your back when he watches you cook from the island in the kitchen, the old shorts and tank top you wear when there are no clean clothes left on a sunday, the way that you flip your hair and expose your neck when you are vacuuming. they help him envision a future where it is just the two of you forever, with hopefully a few kids running around which excites him more than you know.

even just the lazy days when you have been lying around all the couch the whole time, in your pyjamas can get him excited, because your cami is tight and you don’t wear a bra, and the way you eat food is attractive, and the way you drink is too, and so is the way you throw your exposed thigh over his lap when you’re getting comfortable on the couch. at any given moment when he is given the time to look at you for too long, he can imagine himself being all over you.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

extreme kinks, he wouldn’t want to hurt you in any way. even if you were to suggest trying new things that are a bit more extreme, it would take a lot of convincing because he wouldn’t want the two of you to try something and then regret it. he’s open-minded, but cautious.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

he gets pussy drunk so baddddd, literally dripping from the chin and back onto you when he eats it. he could go on for hours because the way that you moan out his name quite literally sounds like music to his ears. so much so that the first time he gave you head he came in his pants without you evening touching him, just from the way you were reaching out for his hair from above him, and breathing out his name. he only confessed it to you a year into your relationship in which you were so flattered you gave head just the way he likes it, which is definitely just as messy as him. he wants you to use his cum as lipgloss, and when you guide his hand into your hair. he isn’t a massive head pusher, only when you let him do it.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

always slow, he doesn’t see the point of getting intimate if he isn’t able to have the whole experience. he enjoys foreplay, and wants to give you all the attention he has by going through the steps and focusing on every bit of you. even if he’s mad or frustrated he would still go slow, because he doesn’t want to take his anger out on you. instead, he likes the way the slowness calms him down and brings him back to his senses. and make-up sex after arguments would be even slower as he feels he has to relearn the little things about your body and wants to relish in the things he could’ve lost but thankfully didn’t. the only times that he would be fast would be the mornings before a flight abroad, and even though you two would have had sex the night before he just needs to do it one more time before leaving so he can remember the sensation when he is away from you. it would be quick because he doesn’t want to be late for his flight, and also because if you were to take your time he just wouldn’t leave.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

not a massive fan. again, he just wouldn’t see the point when he can take his time with you, there’s no rush. although there are times when you’re together in a group setting, like on a vacation with friends and the sight of you is just so unbearably gorgeous he can’t resist pulling you into the room you share in the airbnb. and then you come out no more than ten minutes later, which is just enough time before people start to realise you’re missing.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

not a massive experimenter, he likes to do what you like, to an extent.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

he could on for hours, and sometimes he does. on the days that you look extra good, or have managed somehow to make him jealous even though he isn’t really a jealous person. but on a day to day basis 2-3 rounds is a happy medium, because he believes everything is better in moderation.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

he would never buy a toy for himself or for you, but if you were to get gifted one from one of your friends as a joke, he would probably try it at least once.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

very subtly throughout the day, maybe very small gestures like his hand on the small of your back, or caressing your shoulders when you are talking to someone. if he were to tease you seriously, it would be more privately at home like if you were to have gotten some icing on your face from a cake you were eating, and he’d kiss it off you. he prefers to be teased rather than tease someone.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

not super loud. he’s for sure not screaming or anything, but he does let out some breathy moans and groans. he’s more verbal when he’s having sex, like whispering words of praise and your name constantly. i think he could also let out an occasional whimper when something just feels too good, and his deep voice would crack under your actions.

W = Wild card (a random headcannon for the character)

shower sex. he’s obsessed. ever since you let him step into one of your showers and you turned around and kissed him with the warm water pouring over your heads like it was some sort of romcom he was hooked. you’re naked anyway, why not just have sex? he likes pressing you up against the glass door of the shower, and then seeing water that water that has condensed everywhere but the shape of your body. he also likes the steaminess that makes his eyesight a little hazy. it’s all very romantic and intimate to him. plus, you don’t need to get up to shower after sex because you’re already in there. even when you have regular sex in your bed, sometimes when you get up to shower it continues in there because it is all just too tempting for him.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

yeah. biiiiig.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

i don’t think he’s crazy by any means, he prefers simpler and more cute moments with you. don’t get me wrong though, he’s still definitely horny a lot. but he keeps it to himself most of the time.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

after a quick wash up he’s out like a light. snoring and everything. he’s worn out completely, there’s no chance for pillow talk when he’s already under the covers and pulling you into him to sleep.

[honorarysimp]

Epilogue: Ex Nihilo Nihil Fit

series masterlist

*Click*

“It’s currently sometime around 10AM this lovely Saturday, my final day in Woodsboro, as I conclude this investigation.”

A small, soft smile tugs at your lips as you sip a cup of coffee you’d gotten from the hotel lobby just earlier.

You have no questions for your coffee anymore.

Your other hand fidgets with your tape recorder, dials spinning within at that familiar slow and methodical pace.

“It’s been three months since the face off on the lakeshore, I find relief in stating on record we’ve finally found bodies, after a bit of patience and reassurance on knowing the lake is currently safe, multiple remains were found in ravines underneath the town, all connected by water channels that span for miles.”

You take a deep breath, wetting your lips as you sit the tape recorder down on the desktop, taking another sip of your lukewarm coffee before quietly continuing.

“Dental records as well as DNA analysis has brought many families peace. Including one Mrs. Becker who will no longer be calling the station every other month. I’ve come to a private conclusion that the entity isn’t invincible, after the face off against it, without a water source it’s required to take a physical form. Which explains how I was able to fight back at the abandon house, without its water and fog, it is vulnerable. If it can be hit, it can be killed.”

Your gaze wanders over your shoulder, heart fluttering at the bare back and mess of brown hair splayed across the pillow.

“And with me, I will be signing off giving all credit to my partner in crime, my beautiful plus one-“

“Watch it. Confirmed girlfriend” you hear Tara’s drowsy voice correct you, making you laugh softly as you sling your arm over the back of the chair and give your spine a little twist, satisfying pops following.

“-unconfirmed if Sam asks” you mutter jokingly before promptly cutting the tape recorded off, that audible click following as you peer back to Tara. She hums, stretches as she sits up, the muscles in her back flexing as she runs her fingers through her hair in an attempt to somewhat tame her bed head.

God, she’s beautiful, you can’t help but just look at her.

The last three months have been blissful, heavenly compared to the shitshow you’ve been through those three months prior. It’s still mind boggling to you just how long you’ve been here, on the excuse of “finishing your job” you came here for in the first place.

Not for sitting in that diner on certain late nights, meeting with a certain first responder as she’s getting off shift, to which you either end up at hers or your shitty hotel room.

Tara says it’s endearing, you hate the uncomfortable mattress, but it’s grown on you too. You’ll never admit it.

When you aren’t worshiping the ground Tara walks on, you’re at the Station with Sam, working with her and the rest of the officers on the searches.

Sam knows, you’re ninety percent sure Tara told her, but she never asks and you’re okay with that.

A hand on your arm snaps you out of your thoughts, it’s then you realize Tara had shifted to the edge of the bed closest to you, that smile paired with those hooded brown eyes do something sinful to your insides.

“Come on, it’s cold without you, finish later” Tara murmurs, biting her bottom lip as she reaches further to give your shirt the smallest tug, the sheet that once elegantly covered her now dipping “I know by now that mouth is good for more than talking to that stupid thing.”

God, the things this woman does to you, how could you ever deny her?

____________________________________________

It’s surreal, packing, tidying up the hotel room that’s become almost like a second home. Even with all things considered, or maybe it just started to feel like that in a fucked up way once the nightmares stopped.

You scoop an old pack of cigarettes off your desk, eyeing them for a moment. You don’t even know the last time you smoked one, and to be frank, you aren’t even sure why you haven’t tossed them yet. So, you do, walking over to trash where remains of your investigation board can be seen.

“Good riddance” you mutter as you drop it into the bin, taking a deep breath as you do a once over of the room, then you grab your single duffle and backpack.

As you head out, you offer a nod Bianca behind the front desk, the older woman smiling and giving you a departing wave goodbye.

As you head out of the hotel, a small smile tugs at your lips at the view.

Leaning back against the hood of your car is Tara, palms flat to the metal as she laughs warmly at something Mindy says to her, the other woman sat next to her while Chad stands off to the side with a smile of his own.

It makes you sad, to know this is all Tara has left of her friends she’s grown up with, she’s told you plenty of stories of the others to make you feel like you knew them to a certain extent.

You feel bad you’re taking her from them, even temporarily.

“You know, you still owe me a ride around in that ambulance of yours” you comment as you approach, Mindy scoffs and rolls her eyes at you.

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that making a bet drunk on a game of pool doesn’t count?” Mindy retorts, the same reply as always, “and I don’t owe you shit considering you’re taking my second in command.”

“You’ll be fine for two weeks without me” Tara says with a smile, which prompts Mindy to hug her, making Tara promise to call every day.

Chad follows you around to the backside of your car as you drop your bags into the trunk, next to Tara’s suitcase, your insides churning with a mixture of emotions.

“You know you don’t have to” he says to you, arm coming up to grab the opened trunk as you busy around adjusting things within.

“No, you were right. He should know” you reply, casting him a side glance, “besides I think it’s long overdue, just… be easy on him when he does yeah?”

Chad scoffs and looks off to the side, shaking his head, you see a retort on the tip of his tongue. Pulling back, you both tug the trunk down, lock clicking into place.

“Hey” you stop him before he continues, your head tilting slightly, “you don’t need to forgive him, but it wouldn’t be fair not to give him the opportunity.”

He doesn’t comment, seemingly shaking it off and offering you a half smile “just take care of Tara and bring her back in one piece, alright Detective? Don’t let her get lost in that big ass city of yours.”

You laugh and nod in agreement, extending your hand to which he firmly shakes, pulling each other in for a friendly hug.

“Congrats on the promotion by the way, the High School football team will be lost without their coach” you say as you bump your shoulder to his, he laughs and waves it off as you two round the car once more.

“I’m looking forward to seeing how he’s going to keep those kids in line as a Principal when they barely respected him as a coach” Mindy butts in, causing the twins to break out into a light hearted disagreement.

You smile, turning your head when you feel a finger hook into your pant pocket and tug, your eyes finding Tara’s as she mirrors your smile up at you.

“Sam’s going to meet us at Town Hall, said she had some last minute things to go over with the Mayor. Figured we could make it a two birds with one stone scenario for us” Tara says as you move toward her, standing between her legs as she sits back on the car.

“We can’t just avoid Sam all together?” you mutter jokingly, reaching up to curl a strand of her dark hair around your finger, she scoffs and gives you a look.

“She’ll hunt us down if we don’t, bury you alive, and drag my ass back home.”

You feign a gasp, mortified as you begin to lean away from her “I was buried alive thank you very much, how dare you bring that up-“

She cuts you off with a kiss, laughing softly against your lips. You can help but sink into it, hand coming up to gently cup her jaw.

When she pulls back you groan in protest, making her laugh and swat your chest playfully. You catch her hand, kissing the soft pink scar on her palm, making her breath hitch just the slightest.

Physical therapy hadn’t been easy for either of you, considering the small bit of nerve damage from your injuries. Tara had pushed through in strides far better than you, constantly reminding you that “what happened to us shouldn’t define the rest of our life”.

You couldn’t agree more.

Not to mention the “us” and the “our” she so easily refers to now when it comes to the two of you.

God, you don’t deserve her, but you’ll spend every day doing everything you can for her.

As you bid the twins tearful exchanges goodbye, the two of you slip into your car and head towards Town Hall.

Upon entering, you both make your way up to the Mayor’s office, where you find Sidney in the midst of a conversation with Sam. The two turn as you enter, you tip your imaginary hat towards them both.

“Mayor. Sheriff.”

Tara steps to the side with Sam, briefly hugging before running through a checklist of things Tara may need for her trip. Of course Tara plays it off like she’s annoyed by her older sister’s overprotective nature and concern, but you’ve learned to spot that smile she tries so hard to hide.

“Dinner still on for tonight?” You ask Sidney with a smile, approaching her desk as she rounds it to the other side, digging through one of her drawers.

She casts you a glance, a small smile of her own growing on her lips, it’s good to see her doing better as the days go. “That they are, it’ll be the first time in a few years that Jill and Kirby come back to town.”

“And Gale?”

“She’ll be there of course, still keeping herself as busy as possible” Sidney says as she pulls out a large envelope from her desk, straightening up and forcing her smile a bit more.

You pick up on it immediately, “she’s still talking about moving to the city?”

Sidney sighs, coming around the desk to stand in front of you, tapping the envelope against her free hand apprehensively.

“It’s just… we’re all we’ve got now, it’s going to be hard to see her leave” Sidney admits quietly, looking off to the side as she chews on the subside of her cheek, “but… I understand, needing to go. This town only reminds her of the man she lost.”

Your head tilts slightly, tucking your hands into the pockets of your pants “and you, Mayor?”

She gives you a tight lipped smile, steeling herself as she extends the envelope to you “your final paycheck, Detective. Thank you, for everything. I owe you a debt I’ll never be able to repay.”

With that, you smile again, tugging your backpack off your shoulder and pulling from it your box of tapes. “For you, Mayor” you say, trading her the content within for the envelope.

Her brow is furrowed, looking from the box in her hand up to you, “they’re mine, they have everything you might need to know on them with what all I know, you can repay me by not calling me if and when it ever returns.”

That makes her laugh, nodding once, extending one hand to which you shake, “it’s been a pleasure, Detective, we’ll be seeing you.”

You turn and head towards the Carpenter sisters, both now smiling and talking with less tension.

“Danny has family in New York, so if you keep her for too long, just know I’ll be coming to find you” Sam says the moment you approach, her hard gaze locking on to you.

It’s still as intimidating as the day you met her, but only now you can’t help but smile when Tara slips her hand into yours and laces your fingers together.

“You have all the information on where I live, and you’re both more than welcome to come stay if-“

“Okay! So great, bye Sam! Love you!” Tara interjects, pulling at your hand as she heads for the door.

“Bye Sam! Love you!” You echo, making Sam flip you off as you and Tara move through the threshold, you catch her smiling before she disappears from your view.

As you both get back into the vehicle, you start up the engine just as Tara buckles herself in, and for a moment you pause.

“Don’t. Get out of your head. I’m with you.”

You exhale, looking to her at the sound of her soft tone “but are you sure you want to use all your PTO for this? Just-“

Tara leans across the center console, fingers curling around the back of your neck to pull you forward for a sweet, passionate kiss as a symbol of reassurance.

And when you break apart, albeit just resting your foreheads together as your eyes meet, Tara murmurs “you’ve been in my world for a minute now, it’s my turn to see yours.”

The muscle in your jaw flexes as your teeth clench and unclench, your heart fluttering in your chest “okay, whatever you want.”

“I want you to get me the fuck out of this hellhole, hot shot” Tara says with a full smile that sends a sharp hot jab to your gut, giving you one last chaste kiss before sinking back into the passenger seat.

You mentally add that to the list of things you can’t tell her no to, which seems to grow exponentially the longer you two are together.

You pass by the diner on your way out, and your chest aches, you’ll miss it. Tara seems to read your thoughts, as she rests her hand atop yours on the gear shift. Your eyes meet for a moment and you share a silent look of understanding.

You don’t tell her about your last minute pitstop until you’re pulling down a familiar street, the side glance she gives you tells you all you need to know.

“What-“

“Chad asked me not to say anything, since you’re not really a fan of him” you answer before she can finish, parking the car and looking to her “at least until we got here.”

Her eyes narrow, jaw set as she leans back into her seat “unbelievable, what else are you keeping from me?”

“I’m pregnant and you’re the father” you say without missing a beat.

Instantly she’s fighting back a smile, scoffing and punching your arm as you unbuckle your seat “you’ve got fifteen minutes or I’m breaking up with you.”

“I’ll do it in ten” you say with a wink, quickly slipping from the car and briskly making your way inside.

When you knock, it’s in a far more calmly manner than the last time you were here, your hear the locks click before Randy peaks past the door.

“You’re alive.”

“We did it.”

He opens the door fully, one hand on the doorframe while the other loosely gripped the knob. A dry laugh comes from him, followed by “bullshit, how?”

“It’s not permanent, but we were able to find something temporary” you begin to quickly summarize “I came to tell you that you can go home, Billy and Stu are dead. So is Dewey.”

Randy winces at that, face twisting as he looks away, you continue by softly adding “your family needs you, Sidney needs you.”

For a moment he’s quiet, and then he turns to head back into his apartment, leaving the door open. Unsurely, you enter and follow after him.

You catch a glimpse of him popping free the same floorboard from last time, and from it he pulls a few pieces of paper. But upon standing and approaching you, your stomach sinks as you take in that familiar yellow stained parchment.

Your eyes move between them and Randy’s face a few times, the air sucked from your lungs.

“You tore them out? You had them the whole-“

“Take them” he says, holding them out to you, “I ripped them out when I’d learned just how powerful they were, what the contain, do with them what you please.”

Curiosity gnaws at your mind, but as always, the same singular factor holds you back. The thought of her does that to you now, considering just how much you now have to lose.

“I need to know… did you steal the book from Billy?” You ask him, the way his body stiffens answers your question.

Randy hesitates, but answers after a moment “long story short? I found out Billy had a daughter with a random we went to school with. Billy offered the book to me as a trade, saying it could save Sidney’s life, so long as I never spoke a word about what I knew. If only I’d known Billy had fucked me over the moment he gave me the book.”

You process this new information, your brain feeling like a needle skipping on a record “what- how did you find out? How were you certain?”

“Back then I had my hand in everything. If I didn’t know you to know what you knew, I knew someone you trusted that knew what you knew” is all Randy gives you, looking down to the pages in his hand then back up to you “do you want them or not?”

Still curious and hesitant, you ignore his question “do you know the identity of the child? Does she know who her father is?”

Randy shakes his head firmly, “it’s in the child’s interest that she never knows. So I’m taking this one to the grave, not for Billy, but for that poor kid.”

In a way you understand, Billy wasn’t the best, and if Randy found out about this kid back when they were in high school then she probably would be a little older than you. If you dug, you could very well find out who.

But Randy is right, why do that to someone, and get stamped as a bastard child of a psycho?

You take the pages from him and tuck them in your pocket without reading them, “go home Randy, you’re now unburdened and have run out of excuses to avoid it any longer.”

Neither waiting for confirmation or a verbal response, you turn on your heel and exit the apartment swiftly, heading back to your car.

“Nine minutes, you cut it close” Tara says the moment the car door closes behind you, already smiling when you look to her.

“Early is on time, on time is late” you laugh as you shift the car into drive and exit the parking lot, back on the road, no more stops. At least, not until you get to the first hotel for some sleep on your roadtrip to New York.

“You ready for your VIP front row seat to seeing the span of the whole country?” You say with a half smile, every nerve in your body lighting up as her arm drapes across the space between you and rests on the back of your seat, her fingers gently massaging the back of your neck.

“I didn’t know a view could get better than this” Tara whispers softly, tone vulnerable as her head tilts back on to her headrest, gazing over at you with that becomingly familiar gleam of adoration in her eyes.

This is where you decide you’ll burn the pages first chance you get, the promise of answers and knowledge isn’t worth losing Tara.

Tara fidgets with the radio, converse propped up on the dash, the small crack in the window making a subtle mess of her hair.

She’s beautiful. She’s everything to you.

Your eyes linger on Tara for a moment before you return your eyes to the road, content in your belly and a sense of home in your heart. As the radio crackles and a song begins to play, your eyes catch a street sign off to the right of the road.

Now Leaving California

Come Back Soon!

previous, next

AN: thank you all for following along and reading this story! It’s been a pleasure, an honor, and a privilege.

[spinchip]

BEEN THERE ONCE BEFORE AND I WISH THAT I NEVER DIED

Pairings: none Word count: 6500 Warning: Graphic depictions of violence and death. Gore, murder, Ear trauma and limb loss tw

Summary: Zane would do anything to keep the ninja safe.

*

There is a pot of tea between you, sitting in Master Wu's private garden right outside the door to his room, and it’s some sort of oolong blend with a sweet smelling screen hanging over it. Osmanthus flowers float in your cup and you trace their pattern, watching them shift idly in what little breeze this summer day has brought you. The tea is too bitter despite the honey you’d added, over-steeped and thick on your tongue.

There is a sword on his lap, a sleek red sheath and neatly wrapped handles. There are no adornments on this blade, it is plain and unassuming, a tool for its master and whatever that may entail. Master Wu had asked you out here, months after the desperate fight for Ninjago at the corridor of elders (even longer after you had been torn apart by a power that was never yours to hold,) and the rattlesnake smile he’d offered as he’d led you out vanished the moment you were hidden from prying eyes. He makes your tea silently, and he burns it.

He looks at you in a way that makes you bristle, with eyes that no longer see you as human. Your silver skin itches, your tea tastes like ash.

“Do you know what a ninja is, historically?” He asks you finally, his voice quiet but clear over the space between you.

You do not, but you could look it up in an instant. You don’t do that either. He does not expect you to answer.

“They were said to be assassins. Hired blades sent to the house of the lands lord to slaughter them- the last recorded deaths by these assassins was years and years ago, but that was not the end of the era of the ninja. They snuck between the shadows, they pulled their hidden weapons, and they eliminated their targets cleanly and efficiently.” He waits, gauging your reaction. You can feel his eyes sit heavy on where your hands are deceptively calm around your tea cup, assessing, searching for something like he had that day he’d first laid eyes upon you in the frozen pond.

A phantom of a red flashes across your HUD that screams DANGER- and despite how there is no real warning clawing its way across your eyes, you know you should be afraid anyway. Tread carefully, you are in dangerous territory. Do not react. Control.

“Is this a history lesson?”

“Perhaps.” Master Wu murmurs, finding something in your expression with those dark eyes.

“The best way to defeat my enemy is to make him my friend.” You can’t help but say, a parrot of his own words, your eyes calculating.

“And if your kindness is rejected?” He does not skip a beat.

You hesitate, the clink of your cup as you set it down on the table too loud on your ears.

“You are no longer a child, Zane. Your innocence died with the Overlord. The others still have that innocence.” You jerk, the reminder of your death bruising on your soul, but he doesn't handle you with kid gloves, “You’ve killed once, to protect them.” Sensei Wu does not touch his tea, and there is a rising sickness in your stomach, “Can you do it again?”

He draws the blade and it’s blood red, holding it out to you, handle first.

To protect them?

His eyes are dark and there’s a danger there, but he has always been kind to you. Like a father when yours had vanished, warm smiles and encouraging words flashing across your eyes. Visions of fire and blood and death color your head along with it, superimposed on top of your friends and family. You’d do anything to protect the people you love, wouldn’t you?

The sword is a healthy weight in your palm.

---

Police tape surrounds a dilapidated old building, great yellow swathes of it wrapped down the sidewalk into the street and officers at each corner standing vigil over the body slumped half in the gutter and covered by a sheet. News vans line the street waiting for the opportunity to film once the coroner has packed away the gore and it’s mostly family-friendly for the afternoon broadcast. Flood lights and lamps are set up around the premise, little yellow evidence markers salting the earth down the doors of the warehouse and up to the body. Apparently deceptively unassuming, the Mechanics home base is filled to the brim with his lackeys and stolen tech- or, it was.

“I guess the Mechanic got tangled up with the wrong guy.” Kai says breathlessly, spooked as the camera pans over the overflowing body bags being loaded into the coroner's van.

The Commissioner taps the remote to his VCR on his leg anxiously, “You heard on the news already, i’m sure, but we suspect the unsub used a long blade of some kind,” He’s visibly shaken, “A sword, perhaps- the evidence was very…” he makes a slashing motion from his throat, miming blood striping the wall behind him.

A blood spattered window, the killing so brutal a heavy streak of gore laced up the glass, is still visible to the probing crime scene photographer.

The graying man slides a manila folder thick with printed pictures across the table and Jay pointedly pushes it away from himself, looking queasy. You reach out and pick it up with hands that seem to float endlessly away from your body, but you’ve felt like this since stumbling home two nights ago when the moon was full and no one else was awake. You don’t hesitate to open it, staring down at the first photo with mild surprise.

Cole jerks away before steeling himself and glancing back over. The picture shouldn’t surprise you, but it does anyway. It looks so messy. The body in the street can barely be recognized in the photo, too mutilated- the only identifying feature being the mechanical hand resistant to the blades of a sword. The mechanic had been reduced to mince meat, blood seeping up through shredded flesh and broken bones. Blood flows in a river down the stairs of the warehouse, down onto the sidewalk, flowing into the gutters.

“This seems… motivated.” Lloyd grimaces at the image but doesn’t look away.

“That’s certainly one word for it,” The commissioner huffs, “We’ve been calling it ‘unhinged.’”

You flip to the next image. Bodies piled on top of each other, strewn across the room, throats slit and bellies gutted and in one particularly horrific scene brain matter and skull fragments rendering a man unrecognizable.

Your memories of that night are fuzzy and nebulous.

Nya takes one of the photos, “Who would do something like this?”

“We were hoping you knew,” A beat- the man sighs, “The mechanic, he’s hard to keep tabs on. We didn’t really know who his enemies were other than those present, and you all had the most contact with him, but it’s too much to hope you have a lead for us, huh?”

He blows out an explosive breath, “Tell me, does the attack itself look familiar in any way? Anyone who comes to mind who has the capability to do something like that?”

You shake your head, blue boring holes into the eyes of a henchman who died trying to hold his intestines inside his gut, “No,” Your voice doesn't waver, “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

---

Wu touches your shoulder firm and bruising but your skin cant purple under his nails anymore, “It gets easier.”

---

You stand in the threshold of the jail cell, the body in the room covered by a sheet. You had wondered if that really happened, bodies covered up by the police like in television dramas- this is the second time you’ve seen it. It won’t be the last. It’s interesting to know how fiction gets it right, sometimes. Kai distinctly can’t look, turned away, but you haven't been squeamish in a long time. You crouch low, reaching for the edge of the blanket to see, and Nya makes a disgusted noise in the back of her throat when you lift the sheet to look.

This death is far more refined than the massacre you’d investigated this month- A clean cut across his throat, blood coating his sleep shirt and dried to the corners of his mouth. Droplets of red sprinkle his face where he’d tried to breathe through the ruined hole of his throat, coughing a plume of blood into the air that rained down on him as he died. His skin is waxy and his eyes glazed and clouded, he’s been dead for hours- but you knew that already.

Nya coughs, “Can you cover him up, please?”

You oblige, “I was trying to see what Information I could gather.” the sheet falls back over his face, hiding him away. There’s no reason to cover him up, the other inmates are locked in their cells until the investigation finishes and the body is removed. Privacy is a moot point, but maybe it’s about respect.

Lloyd turns away from where he’s shifting through the inmates belongings, “Well, anything?”

“He was killed hours ago. He’s been dead for a long while.” How much to say? “The murder weapon was a blade.”

“Same as the Mechanic.” Jay says from where he’s outside the cell and out of line of sight, the dead body and blood making him sick, “Did Fugi-Dove and him have any connections?”

“Not that we know of.” Nya frowns, crossing her arms over her chest and trying to convince everyone she’s unaffected by this, “Only us. It just seems so weird- He’s a small fry compared to the mechanic, why kill him? He’s harmless!”

“He broke Jay's elbow last week,” You remind her, “He was not harmless. Perhaps he had more secrets than we thought.”

“Who found him?” Cole murmurs, carefully keeping away from touching the crime scene.

“Eight AM guard round,” You answer him, standing up, “The four AM patrol missed him. Both officers were interrogated, but nothing came of it. It doesn’t appear to have been an inside job.”

“The culprit snuck into kryptarium prison, killed a man, and snuck out with none the wiser?” Nya snorts, “This place has gone to the dogs.”

Jay taps his foot impatiently and it echoes down the hallway, “Well, it’s not like Warden Noble runs a very tight ship around here, despite what he wants you to think. How many escaped convicts do we deal with on a weekly basis?”

“So what do we do about this?” Kai asks, frowning at the lump on the ground.

Fugi-dove was half slumped off his bed, his back flush to the ground and his legs still thrown over his bed and tangled up in his bedsheets. He’d been awake when he was attacked, his cheeks bitten to hell as if he’d attempted to scream through a hand sealed over his mouth that only let go once his vocal cords had been slashed through, and in his desperate attempt to stop from bleeding out or drowning in his own blood he’d thrashed himself right to the floor.

“We’ll look at the tapes and see what we can find.” Lloyd answers casually. Darkleys prepared him for death and gore, it didn’t bother him like it should.

“I thought officer Pey told us we were in a blind spot,” Cole points out, stepping out of the cell followed by Lloyd.

“Warden Noble used to be the principle of Darkleys,” the green ninja waits for you to join them on the other side of the cell. You feel cold all over, “And if there’s one thing I'm certain of, the man has eyes everywhere.”

“Does he?” You ask, fingers going numb.

Lloyd nods and locks the cell door behind you, “There will be tapes. He should be here any minute now, Officer Pey says he comes in at 10:00 on Saturdays.”

As if on cue, the Warden appears in a frenzy, tearing into the hallway and bee lining for the cell. He grimaces at the covered up body, “I leave Pey in charge for one night…” He sighs, pushing his glasses up to rub at his eyes, “Great.”

“Good morning, Warden.” Jay greets cheerfully.

“Says who?” The man replies darkly, “The media is gonna tear me a new one. This is going to lower our reputation even more.”

“Let us help you put the culprit behind these bars,” Lloyd offers, stepping forward with green ninja grace.

“I don’t think that’d do any good, he already got out once.” Kai mutters.

The warden graciously ignored Kai’s comment, “I haven't even had coffee yet.” He complains, running a rough hand over his mouth as he glares at the body.

“You had hidden cameras?” Lloyd pushes and the Warden nods, motioning to an inconspicuous looking fire alarm.

“It’s fake,” He tells him.

You walk towards it. A strange sense of doom washes over you, numbness following it. A camera. Evidence. How clearly would they be able to see the killer's face?

“Let me be of assistance,” You offer, casually making it to the alarm first. The moment you manage to open the glorified nanny cam and your fingers close around the USB, you focus a concentrated pulse of electromagnetic energy and wipe it clean. Anything saved to the storage space will have been obliterated, gone, corrupted and unsalvageable. You can feel your hands again.

“How could this have happened?” The warden asks, clicking through the empty USB over and over looking for footage that no longer exists.

Lloyd glances at you, but there’s no suspicion, “Was there anything weird about the camera? Had it been tampered with?”

You touch your chin and try not to let your hands shake, “No, but it was not a very complex mechanism. It could easily have been opened by someone familiar with this type of surveillance.”

“Someone from Darkleys?” Nya suggests.

Lloyd hums in thought, “I don’t know. It’s worth looking into.”

“When did we become detectives?” Jay complains, “Can’t you guys just call us when you need us to spinjitzu this guy?”

“Don’t be a baby.”

Jay pulls a face at that, “I’m a ninja! I shouldn’t have to put up with all this- this blood!”

“Do you know what a ninja is, historically?” you murmur.

No one hears you.

---

There are four more deaths the following month, both somewhat well-known villains with a penchant for collateral damage. The same slashing wounds as the last. Lloyd is the only person in the group who doesn’t look affected by the barrage of gore he’s being subjected to- other than you, of course. He’s reading over the newest police report that’d come their way with a hum, “He’s getting bolder.” He concludes, flipping through the crime scene pictures at the end.

“Bolder?” Cole questions, “It seems to me like he’s winding down. His first kill was the Mechanic and everyone working under him- 16 deaths on that one alone. Now he’s down to one.”

“The Mechanic was messy,” he examines the pictures, noting just how clean the newest death was. Not a drop of blood out of place other than the pool growing under the body, “He was surprised by all the people- he never intended to kill anyone other than their leader, that’s why that kill was so disorganized. It’s why the mechanic was nearly able to escape, before he caught him in the street. The bank barely needed to mop the floor for this one. He’s refined his skill.”

“He left Reflectras sidekick unharmed.” Kai pointed out, “What’s different between then and now?”

Lloyd flipped a picture his way- it’s a still from a grainy security camera. Reflectra is already dead in the photo, her blood turned black on the monochromatic footage. The teen girl she’d been toting around with her was cowering under the teller counter, and standing just outside the blood was a figure dressed in all black. From the girl's testimony, the gray toned lion's mask he wore was red and gold in person, lips drawn back in a snarl that showed off fangs, a thick head of coarse blonde hair coming out of the mask to hide any other possible identifying features.

“He is wearing a mask.” You say, peering down at the picture.

“He’s hiding his face.” Lloyd clarifies before banging out a few words into the computer's search engine, pulling up a street festival that happened two weeks ago and swiveling the computer screen around so everyone could see it, “And it's a new purchase.”

Staring back at them was a picture of downtown Ninjago filled with people, food stalls and other vendors lining the sidewalks as people milled about. Half the people walking the street were wearing the same exact lion mask as their killer, now in vivid technicolor. You could see the stalls selling them- masks lined wall to wall. It seemed everyone was buying them. It wouldn't have looked out of place at all for the murderer to buy it for himself and squirrel it away for his late night acts.

“He killed the Mechanics goons because they saw his face. He doesn’t want witnesses.” Nya connects, “Aimi was only spared because he has a way to kill anonymously.”

“And with a virtually untraceable origin. That mask is everywhere, now.” Jay continued with a frown.

“It’s not a total dead end. We can still talk to the stall owners, maybe see if they noticed anyone strange buying from them.” He navigates to the festival's website, opening up the vendor list.

There are twelve souvenir stalls in total, and five of them are solely dedicated to masks.

You make a surprised noise in the back of your throat, “Saori Sato. I recognize that name. I believe I taught her son when we were working at the school.” You comment, “I have a rapport with her, I should be able to get her to speak with me easily.”

Lloyd accepts your lie with a nod, “The rest of us will work on the others, then. Hopefully we’ll have some luck.”

You don’t go to see Saori Sato. You sit on the rooftop of her apartment complex and meditate. You try to meditate. There’s a peace that’s absent in you, now, that doesn’t let your mind slip into calm like it used to be able to. There’s always a buzzing under your skin, in your wires.

You brought your sword, the one with the red blade.

You sharpen it until your mind stops racing. It’s like a razor blade now, and you imagine the sting it would cause as you run your metal fingers up the sharp side. You can perfectly imagine how blood would drip down it, now. You go home.

Everyone comes up empty, of course, because Saori Sato sold that mask, and you didn’t speak to her.

---

“You seem unphased with the murders.” You say to Lloyd, after the others have gone to bed and it’s just the two of you up, pouring over the case files. When Lloyd goes to bed, so will you.

He shrugs and sips at his coffee- filled to the brim with cream and sugar, “Darkleys wasn’t just about ruling the world in the big picture. They taught us the small stuff too, including desensitizing us to death.”

There’s nothing to say to that, so you don’t respond. You go back to looking over the papers again, pretending to search for an angle they hadn’t considered yet.

“You want to know something funny?” He says with a little laugh, staring down at the Mechanics' torn up body.

“What is it?” You ask.

A darkness settles over the room, thick and viscous. It seems to flood your mouth and fill your chest. Lloyd looks at you with bright eyes that pin you in place, “I checked your roster. I went through all the kids you taught at the school- and I didn’t find any Satos in the class.” he says with a lopsided smile, eyes burning your skin, assessing, searching for something, “Isn’t that weird?”

Your coolant has turned to ice in your limbs and your body feels numb, “Not at all,” You say cooly, “Sato is her maiden name. Her son has his fathers last name, Maeda.”

He finds something in your expression and- his shoulder slump, “Oh,” He says, blinking. “FSM, i’m sorry- I just-”

“It is alright, Lloyd.” You say graciously, “This has been stressful for us all, and you haven't been sleeping. Perhaps you should get some rest.” rising from your chair, you go to his side and help him to his feet. He allows you to walk him back to his room.

“Let’s start fresh tomorrow.”

“That sounds good.” Lloyd allows with an exhausted yawn. He disappears into his room.

---

Everything hurts.

Your eyes are blurred and blocked by another pop up- WARNING! WARNING! DAMAGE- you dismiss the banner as quickly as it arrives, but that doesn’t stop you from miscounting a step and slamming into the stone staircase, all your weight cracking down on the pointed edges. You scramble to hold onto the steps with your working arm before you can go tumbling back down to the bottom, taking a few breaths that you don’t need to take to help center yourself.

Clambering back to your feet, you check you haven't splattered coolant or oil on the stairwell before you continue up. Clean.

Reaching the monastery, you avoid the main gate. Instead, you shimmy up the courtyard wall and slink silently across the roof until you’re standing above your room. It’s easier with two hands, but you manage to swing yourself off the roof by the tiles and onto the window ledge, barely finessing your way inside without causing a commotion or accidentally falling off the cliff face. You don’t collapse no matter how badly you want to.

First things first- you pry up the loose floorboard under your nightstand and stuff the sword and mask inside, sliding the stand on top of the hiding place. You strip the bloody clothes off and grit your teeth as you peel it away from the mess of your left arm, refusing to scream. Not even allowing a whimper. You’ve had worse- this- this is nothing. Loose pants, loose shirt- long sleeve, of course, just in case anyone was up late getting a glass of water.

It’s late enough that even Jay should be asleep, and the empty garage confirms it.

It takes you two hours to knit the delicate machinery in your arm back together, and another hour fitting a new plate cover so nothing would seem amiss. You take the ravaged pieces of your arm up stairs and pack it under your nightstand too, so there’s no chance of evidence possibly being found.

You collapse now, face first on the bed, and not three hours after that you’re shaken awake.

Nya looks grim, “There’s been another murder.”

In your exhausted, near delirious state, you barely manage to catch yourself before you say I Know.

---

It’s cold this time of year, and it shows. The others are bundled up against the incoming chill of the season, coats and scarves worn on top of their ninja suits. You’re wearing a sweater too, but there’s a cold in you that will never be warm. You’re all behind Laughys Karaoke bar deep in the alley while the police guard the mouth of it, refusing to let reporters or curious civilians get a look.

There’s a detective with you, hanging back and allowing you all to examine the scene.

“Who is this guy?” Cole eventually asks, resisting the urge to nudge his face into view.

The detective steps forward, “His name is Killow. Ninjago PD have had their eye on him for a while- he’s been arrested for petty crimes in the past, but from the intel they’d begun to gather he’d joined an up and coming gang and had climbed pretty high in the ranks. They called him the Big Man.”

‘Big” was an understatement. The man was a brick house, every muscle worked until it bulged. It seems his gym habits had helped a little, even if the end result was still the same.

Lloyd examines his throat, “The first cut didn’t go deep enough.” He comments. There's blood splattered all over the alley, obvious signs of a struggle. Trash was everywhere, torn open bags and the big blue dumpster was dented from Killow slamming the assailant into the metal, more chipped bricks and dented cans revealed just how close Killow had come to walking away from this attempt on his life.

That same dumpster with the largest dent was where Killow had dug his fingers into the murderer's arm and torn through it, spraying metal and wiring across the ground with barely a flick of his wrist. No one knew that but you, and you didn’t share it. The area had been scrupulously cleaned.

“He got him.” Kai commented, “He hurt him pretty bad.”

“How do you know that?” Nya questioned.

Kai gestures to his hands, “Look at his nails. He scratched him, and no one is walking away from that unscathed.” Killows nails were broken and bleeding, torn and snapped off nearly at the cuticle with how hard he’d fought.

“It didn’t help him enough,” Lloyd sighs, standing up, “The second cut was vertical, sliced right through the artery from cheek to chest. He bled out."

“Poor guy.” Jay commented, slowly getting used to the sight of death as he frowned down at the man.

They didn’t know who he was, or what gang he was in- if they did, they’d understand why he had to be put down. The Sons of Garmadon was new and already it was strong, the ranks thick with people who didn’t care about harming others if it furthered their own goals. They were excellent at keeping a low profile while they gained power. It doesn’t escape your notice that the detective avoided naming the gang he was part of. Killow was a bigger cog in that machine, but he wasn’t the only leader the gang members looked to. Your research and surveillance had revealed three of the four ringleaders to you- Killow, Ultraviolet, and, a man you had never seen but had heard referenced several times, Mr. E. They reported to the highest ranking member of the gang, the Quiet One. All you knew about her was that she was a woman.

You stare down at his body and feel no sympathy.

---

“Is there a reason you don’t want me in your head?” Pixal asks bluntly one day, once you’ve gone to visit her at Borg Tower.

Once you’d gotten back to Ninjago City proper, you’d dropped her off with her father with every intention of picking her up later. She’d offered to stick around in your mind for a while, and you’d been happy at the idea- but then Master Wu gave you that sword, and things got more complicated. She hadn’t brought it up for the past few months, but each time you left her without a hint of bringing her along, she had certainly noticed. Now it was her breaking point. She stopped you in the doorway with her words, on your way out.

Your heart had turned numb the moment you took the sword from Wu. In another life, you could have loved her like she deserved.

“My feelings for you…” You turn back to the room, to the screen she's projected her image to so she can look you in the eyes, “…Have changed.” you finish hollowly.

She blinks. She’s perfectly still, “I see.”

“Thank you.” You say softly, “For everything.”

There’s a pause as she studies you, “Is this the end? Will you no longer come to see me?”

The part of you that wants her in your life twinges in pain, the first emotion you’d felt in days, “I believe that is for the best.”

You won’t take her down this path with you.

“Goodbye, Pixal.”

“I will respect your wishes,” She folds her hands in front of her, the perfect picture of poise, “Goodbye, Zane.”

---

Humans are so fragile. Ultraviolet liked to pretend she was tough, like she could take hits others couldn’t- but when it came down to it, her throat sliced just as easily as any others. Her hands were coated in her own blood from where she’s grabbed at her throat, but it was too late, and the slice was too technically perfect. Her knees had hit the ground first and she’d tried to twist, searching for something, eyes wild and mouth gurgling with words that couldn’t form around the blood in her mouth. She fell sideways, skin turning even paler than it already was, and then everything had stopped. The sprinkling rain washed the blood off her lips and diluted the river flowing from her neck. She almost looked like she was sleeping.

You stand over her motionlessly.

“Hey!” A voice cracks across the cool night air, and you turn to the side. You’re on the sidewalk in front of a motorcycle store that Ultraviolet had been intending on robbing, in plain sight. Across the street, up the road, is Nya. She’s not dressed in her ninja suit and her hair is down loose, the wet jeans and soaked hair hindering her sprint as she tears down the road to get to you.

You’re moving before you can think, clambering up the front of the store and up to the roof in record time, purposefully doing something that would be nearly impossible in skinny jeans to deter her. You don’t hesitate to race across the roof and leap to the next, jumping down the fire escape to the next alley and slipping through a thin corridor between two buildings. The sounds of the chase fade to nothing as you outpace her, weaving through back alleys and neighborhoods you’d become intimately familiar with that she didn’t know. After ten more minutes of running, you spin around and head straight for the monastery.

Nya wasn’t expecting to see you, or be witness to the next murder- it was raining- she wouldn't have her phone. That’s your only salvation. She didn’t have her phone.

You take all the shortcuts you know, running until your screen flashes with warnings. You recover from any stumbles in a millisecond. You get home in record time, basically throwing yourself into your room and ripping the mask off. Flinging your mask and sword into your closet and stripping off your wet turtleneck, you close the closet door and dive into bed. The blankets get yanked up to your shoulder and you close your eyes, feigning sleep, and wait.

Android stamina will always outpace humans. You beat Nya home.

She shouts for you all the moment she's through the door, throwing open your doors in her haste to get you up and mobilize after the murderer. She opens your door to you sitting up in bed, clearly woken up from sleep and giving her an openly bewildered expression.

You jump out of bed and throw on your ninja suit, joining the others on the porch as you all gear up.

---

You don’t find the murderer. No one else does either.

Kai looks at you, once you’re all home and exhausted after the all night search. Everyone is soaked and ready to go to bed, dispersing with low spirits and tired eyes. Kai stands in the entryway, dripping wet, and he really looks at you.

You give him a questioning eyebrow raise.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” He says finally, “I won’t judge you.”

“…I know.”

He stares at you, eyes smoldering. He’s in pain. “There’s blood on your collar.” He says finally.

You look down at it- it’s barely noticeable. There must have been a few droplets on your chin that ran down with the water. If you’d been wearing black, he wouldn’t have been able to tell. Your ninja suit is white.

“It’s oil.” You say softly, the patch is just old and watered down enough that you could pass it off for brown.

“Okay.” Kai says. He looks like he’s going to cry.

He looks like he’s afraid of you.

---

Mr.E vanishes after Ultraviolets assassination. You look for him during SoG meetings and you keep an ear out, but he’s nowhere to be seen or heard. The gang is falling apart, half the newer members jumping ship- chances are Mr.E saw the writing on the wall and got out before his neck was next. You could respect that. You might even thank him for it, because if he hadn’t abandoned his post there’s a chance you would have never found out who the quiet one was.

There’s three totally unqualified people at this meeting so far, the members that had ranked directly below the previous three. Their skills were lacking, but their loyalty was rock solid. That was the Quiet Ones main priority after Mr.E’s Irish goodbye. The three were clearly nervous even though they were trying to appear tough- the taller girl even attempting to do tricks with her butterfly knife to appear cool and intimidating. It might have worked if she didn’t drop the blade every other trick.

A door opens and shuts in the silence, the black night outside offering no clue to the newcomers identity. She doesn’t leave them in suspense, though, striding into the light with a stormy expression. She starts talking immediately, taking their names and offering her own.

“You may call me the Quiet One.” She instructs them.

“You’re really the quiet one?” The man says, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Yes. Is there an issue?”

“None at all, ma’am.” He responds gruffly, dipping his head.

That’s all the confirmation you need. You slide to the edge of the exposed beam you’re sitting on, swinging down by your arms before you drop straight into the middle of the group. Your feet slam onto the table and the things tilts- you hadn’t anticipated it, so you end up going left instead of right. Instead of the single clean kill you came here for, you’re thrown into butterfly knife girl and the scene becomes a lot more grisly. Your stumble gave them time to process your intentions- you relied on surprise. Now this would get messy.

Knife girl stabs you in the chest. Her knife gets stuck. While she’s trying to rip it out of your skin, you sever her hands at the wrist. She screams and doesn’t stop.

The bigger male lunges for your throat and you hold your sword up so it plunges straight through his chest, his own momentum forcing it through muscle and the delicate capillaries in his lungs. That doesn’t stop him and his hands are on your throat- it doesn't do anything, of course, because you don't need to breathe. He keeps squeezing, and your neck strains. He could pop your head off if he tried. Your sword is buried in his chest and you can’t back up enough to get the space to pull it out.

You reach up and fumble for the butterfly knife, ripping it out of your chest and whipping it around to slam it directly into his ear. He howls in pain, releasing your neck to scrabble at his head before you use the knife to slice him from ear to collarbone. He collapses and the sword slides out of his body.

Knife girl has gone silent, bleeding to death from the ruined arteries in her wrists.

The other woman throws something the moment her shot is clear and on reflex you catch it. It’s a throwing knife and dangling from the handle-

You dart it back at her before you can finish understanding the word bomb. She’s not expecting such fast reflexes, so she’s not prepared for the knife to bury itself in her chest.

Then it explodes.

You spin around, preparing for the Quiet One to attack you next-

The door is open, and she’s gone.

The worst part about all of this is that you didn’t recognize her. Running her face through your facial recognition software came up empty too- so did cross checking any and every news outlet, hoping to see her face maybe in the back of a crowd. Nothing.

That could have been your only chance.

---

“I have been in your shoes before, I know this is hard. You must be prepared to do everything to protect them.” Master Wu had said after you had vomited up your dinner the night of the Mechanics murder, “This path will cost you everything.”

“Everything?” You questioned, staring down at the toilet bowl.

“But they will be safe.” He reassures you, gripping your shoulder tightly.

---

You don’t let the two parts of your life overlap. You don’t. The nights you go out, you are a serial killer. The next morning you are Zane, elemental master of ice, the titanium ninja. Zane is not tainted by all the blood and death and gore. Zane is not a murderer. You don’t ever use your sword as Zane, and you never use your shurikens as the serial killer. Everything would fall apart if you couldn’t keep them separate.

As you stand in the palace and the emperor introduces his daughter, your hands twitch for your sword the moment she opens her mouth. The face paint. You weren't able to discover her identity because of the face paint. Caked on so thick that her bare face looked like a completely different woman-

The emperor's daughter Harumi, and the Quiet One. Two parts of her life that aren't supposed to overlap.

“-Zane: The cold and calculating android.” She names you sweetly, voice honey thick. There’s a manic, wild edge to her eyes that the face paint can’t hide.

It makes sense. Her three most trusted advisors were murdered or abandoned her, and their replacements were slaughtered immediately after. The Sons of Garmadon had begun to collapse, fractioning off into smaller gangs with their own leaders. The main faction still had a substantial number of die-hard loyalists who were growing more and more extreme by the day. Robbery, assault, murder- they were wreaking havoc on Ninjago. They even managed to steal the Oni Mask of Vengeance. Now, her eyes slid over to Lloyd and locked onto him. She slipped a new mask on, one that was shy and flirtatious. The Quiet One wanted Lloyd wrapped around her finger.

But Harumi and the Quiet One weren’t supposed to exist at the same time.

Neither were Zane and the serial killer.

Inevitably, though, two worlds will always collide. Maybe the two parts of her and you were never supposed to live separate forever. Maybe you shouldn’t have taken that sword from Wu. Maybe you should have brought it with you so that Zane didn’t have to use his shuriken.

“Thank you for this opportunity,” You say clearly into the cold, cold room. Or maybe you’re the cold one, “I will not let it pass me by.”

There’s blood on your shuriken.

You collect your mask and your sword from underneath the floorboards in your bedroom and run.

They’re safe. They’ll always be safe.

[yukidragon]

Sunny Day Jack - Infection AU Headcanons

Hey, have you seen the resurgence of the MLP creepypastas with infection AUs on twitter? I stumbled across this trend, and it gave me an itch to create an apocalyptic AU, but with characters who are already intended for an adult audience.

Yes, it’s another Something’s Wrong with Sunny Day Jack AU, and a very horror-themed one to boot. Yes, I also know that it’s pretty funny that this comes right after this super sugary sweet short story about Jack pleading for more cuddle time with his sunshine, doesn’t it?

What can I say? Sometimes I like to explore the horror side along with the romantic side of Sunny Day Jack.

Content Warnings: This post is going to get pretty graphic at times due to its central focus on body horror and biological infections. There will also be elements of psychological horror, violence, murder, yandere obsession, occult practices, acts of terrorism, and all the other warnings that apply to the main game. Also, one or more of our favorite characters might meet with an unfortunate fate. I’ll see if I can offset all the horror somewhat with some sweet and spicy stuff as well, since we all know Jack isn’t going to let a little lot of blood stop him from filling his sunshine with lots and lots of love.

Minors DNI!

It took me a while to consider how I wanted to go about the infection itself. Sure, I could stick with the tried and true zombie formula, but there’s way too many games that just tack on zombies as DLC without adding anything unique that ties to the original setting. It gets kind of repetitive after a while. I wanted something a little more interesting, perhaps a little more supernatural.

Then I remembered that there are times when Jack starts looking suspiciously like a zombie himself, especially when his bony finger is exposed. However, nowhere is his undead putrefaction clearer, than this heartbreaking picture posted on the SnaccPop Patreon. Even just the publicly posted teaser picture from twitter shows us that his body is rotting like a corpse.

Credit to Sauce for their gorgeous art. Remember, don’t share anything that’s posted privately for members only on the patreon. If you want to see the full picture in all its glorious heartache for yourself, why not consider joining to check it out? You’ll not only get access to exclusive art, but also audio dramas and many other delightful things. You’ll also be supporting the team and helping them to continue working on the games and other projects that give us so many fun stories to explore and enjoy.

The Diseased Lamb

The apocalypse I’ve crafted for this AU is more heavily based on the Sunshine in Hell continuity than the game itself, and it references a number of my previous headcanons. As such, I’ll be sticking with my version of the MC, Alice, for this AU, but I hope my ramble can inspire you with ideas for how to run your own MC through an apocalyptic scenario with the SDJ characters.

The horror of this AU, as it does with the game, all starts with the tape, or rather the incident that it recorded back in 1984, changing both it and the man who was murdered on that day into something no longer human.

LambsWork Productions is such a suspicious company, particularly with that name that feels like it’s implying that it’s creating sacrifices. It wasn’t just meant in a figurative sense, as the entertainment industry is full of cults. A homeless drifter picked up off the street would make for a perfect sacrifice for some profane ritual. No one would come looking for him, and those who knew him when he died could be silenced with an NDA… if they didn’t die as well, of course.

Joseph Cullman, who used the name of James Haberdae when taking the role of Sunny Day Jack, was just one of these poor souls that Lambswork sacrificed. He and so many others were to give, and give, and give so much of themselves, far more than they ever imagined that they would. They were drawn in deeper, convinced to participate in things that they didn’t quite understand, that felt not quite right, but… they could lose it all. They’ve already come so far, done so much. It’s a sunk-cost fallacy.

LambsWork Productions was a company up to some shady business, with connections to other not quite so savory business partners. They slipped subtle propaganda into their various shows aimed at so many different audiences. The 80’s was an era rife for turning kids shows into a 30 minute long television commercial at its most blatant. Much like how the Flintstones pushed cigarettes on kids in our world, and got their own line of multivitamins, even wholesome mascots could be used to push agendas, even unwittingly. (There’s a good Film Theory that talks about propaganda in the media if you’re interested in more about this topic.) The SunnyTime Crew weren’t just selling branded merch like cream pies, dolls, and lunchboxes, they were endorsing other unrelated products such as pharmaceuticals.

The incident of 1984 brought it all to an abrupt end. Maybe in the game’s universe it was an intentional thing, a sacrifice to accomplish something supernatural. Maybe it wasn’t part of a massive conspiracy, just a sudden murder that interrupted plans already in place that had unexpected consequences. Maybe the company was just shitty and had nothing to do with Jack being trapped in the tape for 40 years.

In this universe, it wasn’t an intentional machanation of LambsWork Productions, but the unforeseen results of so many it played a part in.

While I suspect Jack died of gunshot wounds in the game, as I mentioned in previous theories here and here, in this universe, it was the result of a terrorist attack. The SunnyTime Crew were mascots used to push a product that had… unfortunate results. People got sick, suffered horrible side-effects, even died. There were even rumors that a sickness was manufactured in a lab just so that particular product could be sold to cure it. Naturally, the actions of companies associated with LambsWork wasn’t the fault of the actors, but the SunnyTime Crew had inadvertently become the face of the brand. In the eyes of people resentful of a soulless company that victimized them, anyone who worked with them was seen as guilty.

For actors at LambsWork Productions, their days were long and started early. Often, they had to rely on the coffee, donuts, and other snacks in the breakroom instead of a proper meal.

No one realized the food and water had been spiked. Everyone was already pushing themselves hard, often forced to do their job and put on a bright smile for the public even when they were exhausted or sick. If they felt the urge to sneeze or cough, they had better hold it in until the cameras weren’t rolling.

Unfortunately, tried as he might, Jack couldn’t stop himself from coughing up blood in the middle of filming.

Although tempting, this isn’t the start of a zombie outbreak. It’s a deadly illness to be sure, but not one the terrorists intended to infect the children. This was to send a message to the company as well as serve as revenge to see these shiny “innocent” stars bleed and suffer like others had because of corporate greed.

Though it would be horrifying and tragic if this was a zombie outbreak and the SunnyTime Crew were the patient zeros. Mary would rush from the audience to her starlight’s side, holding onto him tight while yelling at someone to call an ambulance… Joseph moans out one final “Sunshine…” before an unnatural hunger overtakes him, and he tears out her throat with his teeth.

A temptingly dark image, but maybe we can save a zombie specific AU for another time. For this infection AU, things are a little bit more complicated than that, and a bit more sad. Joseph didn’t know what was happening to him, just that he was in pain. He had a terrible chill that burned his insides, his eyes growing watery with a red tint, and he couldn’t stop coughing. He didn’t even notice the blood at first leaking from his mouth and eyes until he heard the screams of the audience.

Mary ran to Joseph’s side as he collapsed to the floor. He tried to turn away from the audience to spare the children the sight, but wound up vomiting up blood all over the colorful studio set.

He wasn’t the only one, unfortunately. The rest of the SunnyTime Crew, even guest stars and members of the stagehands were unwell, but not nearly as bad as Joseph. As the star of the show, the terrorists wanted to make a statement with the gruesome death of Sunny Day Jack. They didn’t want someone as strong and healthy looking as him to survive, so he was especially targeted by tainted food and drink. Even his medication, makeup, and cigarettes were tampered with.

Mary tried her best to help Joseph. She was used to being sick. She helped make sure he wouldn’t choke on his own blood and did what she could to keep him breathing until the ambulance came, but his death came swift and gruesome. He died in her arms while she was still performing CPR on him, bathed in his blood and her tears, as the cameras continued to record their last “kiss.”

Mary died later in the hospital, just like in the regular universe, but much sooner, as she became infected as well. Although the illness wasn’t airborne, it could be transferred by bodily fluids. Though the terrorists only meant to target certain people for one specific incident, microorganisms can’t be simply shut off once they’re set loose.

The terrorists had wanted to make a statement using the very illness that they claimed was manufactured by isolating an especially dangerous strain in a lab and unleashing it publicly. Unfortunately, it had the opposite effect they were going for. The exact events of that day were covered up, including the message that they were trying to send.  Instead, the negative side-effects that the original product resulted in were blamed on this new more deadly strain of the infection, and the pharmaceutical company eventually came up with a cure for that too… but not without more casualties.

Many of the terrorists did get arrested and quietly charged with domestic terrorism. In the end, the company they went to such extremes to expose for their crimes became the hero, and all they accomplished was giving them a villain to escape their own misdeeds.

Quietly, LambsWork Productions buried the SunnyTime Crew show and all traces of its memory to escape any bad press. It moved on to new shows, and new partnerships with the pharmaceutical company in the future, though the higher ups never used any of their characters to overtly endorse any unrelated brands again.

In the modern day, the illness that may have been created in a lab, but was made so much more deadly by terrorism is mostly a non-issue with the standard vaccines people get as they grow up. Few people think about it at all. The outbreak incident was a blip in history, with the show never being mentioned at all in association with it.

40 Years Later

The timeline of events plays out mostly the same from here, though perhaps with a few less survivors from the incident of 1984 in the modern day. Though it might not matter when the second incident unfolds.

In many supernatural stories where someone is unjustly murdered, the way they died plays a part in how their revival affects the world… or in this case infects.

The apocalypse started when a VHS tape was played, and Alice became patient zero.

Jack didn’t mean for it to happen. He only wanted to help his sunshine. She was already sick when he appeared. Not only was she suffering from chronic illness like in the regular universe, but she had caught the modern day version of the very infection that had killed both of them in the past. It was treatable in the present, and she was vaccinated, so she was just isolated at home with nothing to do but heal and distract herself from feeling so miserable and alone.

In this case, the curious and compelling VHS tape Alice bought from the thrift store became far more of a distraction than she could have ever imagined.

Jack appeared when Alice was at her most vulnerable and took care of her. The longer they spent together, the better she felt. Her symptoms faded, and his company was surprisingly comfortable, familiar. It was almost nostalgic, like someone had taken care of her like he did long ago…

Alice wasn’t cured, she was asymptomatic. The infection had been altered supernaturally to make her better, but it became something else, something beyond the capabilities of modern medicine. Its change was influenced by Jack’s fears - his fear of the cold, sleepless hell he had been damned to, the fear of the decades loneliness and the endless cycle of pain, and most of all the fear of losing his sunshine.

Understandably, a patient zero is the last person you want working in the food service industry. Worse, a heatwave had struck Texas, sending a lot of customers to Yogurtopia for a cold and tasty treat. Having to deal with so many people distracted Alice from Jack and left him feeling a little lonely… and increasingly afraid that all of these people might make her forget him.

Symptoms

Unlike the infection 40+ years prior, this supernatural affliction spread slowly, the vector not from body fluids but being in the infected’s presence, seeing and hearing them in close proximity. Touching them directly spread it so much faster. In the initial stages it led to nightmares, an increasing sense of paranoia, and a cold prickling pain not unlike the staticy feeling one got after a part of their body fell to sleep, especially focused on the face and hands. This feeling would steadily spread to other parts of the body as the infection got worse.

The progression led to hallucinations, voices that whispered one’s own deepest fears, which led to an increase in depression. The infected grew to have difficulty sleeping, but when they did they only experienced nightmares. The only thing that alleviated symptoms was physical touch with another person that they felt affection/desire towards, but this in turn would spread the infection.

The psychological effects worsened as symptoms progressed, creating an increased sense of paranoia that they were being haunted, but also that this entity was erasing their existence from everyone who knew them, which led to fears about being alone and forgotten. In a sense, the virus was turning people into yanderes, desperate for human connection.

There were visual hallucinations as well, which started as shadows and colors at the corners of their eyes, an entity constantly stalking them. As the infection progressed the hallucinations became more vivid, turning into distorted inhuman figures with protruding bones coming from rotting strips of skin, and other such horrific images.

The infected changed physically too. Their blood took on a strange blue tinge to it and a hint of green. The colors became more prominently distinct and clearly unnatural in later stages of infection, creating an RGB effect as it leaked from the wounds, eyes, and mouth. Between the discomfort underneath the skin and psychological paranoia, patients usually scratched themselves until they bled, especially around the face and hands. Some even clawed their own eyes out to escape the horrific hallucinations.

The infection didn’t affect everyone the same. For some the symptoms progressed faster, and for some they had fewer symptoms. There were even some that claimed that they recovered from the infection.

There was some truth to the rumors. Being infected by close proximity sight/sound of the infected had a cumulative effect on symptoms, but it faded when not in their presence. Unfortunately, physical contact makes the infection spread far worse than sight or sound. It’s thought that maybe if they’re kept in isolation away from other infected they might recover, but this makes their symptoms of paranoia and desperation for human contact worse, leading to them harming themselves or others in their need to alleviate the symptoms.

The problem was that the infection couldn’t be detected until the blood’s color started to change, well after a person would be a danger to themselves and others. Despite lockdowns and stay at home orders, it spread beyond the city, beyond Texas, and even went international. People infected couldn’t handle being isolated alone as the infection progressed. Forcing them only made it worse.

Violence broke out, from infected people driven mad by paranoia and those desperately trying to escape being infected. The more an infected person was wounded, the more of that unnatural blood spilled in the later stages, the more they changed into something that became no longer human.

Some of the infected had their bodies warped, their proportions stretching and contorting until they were almost cartoonish, elongated, torn, and bloody. They were so desperate for company, and many infected clung to one another, flesh merging together until no one could tell where one person ended and the other began. These amalgamations were dangerous and violent, paranoid of being pried apart and some parts wanting to bring others important to them into the amalgam.

While there was hope of recovery for those infected in earlier stages, once they were warped to such a degree, there was no saving them.

Patient “Zero”

The first public case of this infection reaching its unnatural stages that gave it the nickname of the Color Plague was the incident with one Nick Herraras. The name of the infection might change later if I come up with a better term for it, but we’ll go with Color Plague for now.

Poor Nick was found on the streets, covered with what initially was mistaken for paint, only to be later identified as tainted blood. Some thought he was patient zero, driven to a crazed and desperate state as he wandered the streets, babbling incoherently about “sunshine” and “him.”

On the same night there had been a call to the police that reported a break-in at an apartment building where a woman lived alone. When colorful blood was found at the scene of the break-in, it was quickly deduced that Nick had been the culprit behind it. Alice King, the victim, reported that she had been asleep at the time, but she managed to scare the intruder off with her gun, which led to him being found wandering the streets.

The truth was… a bit different than Alice told the police.

The day had been a stressful one. Aside from the long shift, a regular customer at her job had been acting… strange lately. Nick had come to see Alice with increasing frequency, even lingering until closing hours.

It all started off innocently enough for Nick, just a harmless crush that turned into a serious case of lovesickness. Alice had been such a sweet breath of fresh air from his stressful life as an online celebrity, and despite the paranoia and hallucinations that affected him, he fixated on her. It got worse after his hands touched hers when taking his order from her. Her warm touch alleviated his slowly worsening symptoms like nothing else could. He became obsessed with her even as the hallucinations terrorized him to stay away.

Nick needed her.

Alice picked up on the way Nick kept staring at her even when she was taking care of other customers. It made her grow increasingly nervous, especially when Jack voiced his concerns about both Nick and the dangers of other people in general. Many of the regulars were starting to act strange and shifty as well.

Despite the voices warning Nick away, he approached Alice. He got in too close and rambled a bit about how he noticed that she didn’t ever go home with anyone. Did she have a boyfriend? He was exhausted and disheveled at the time, his wild eyes occasionally darting away to chase shadows before fixing back on Alice. He didn’t even give her a chance to answer, rambling on about how he had been watching her for weeks now, and he had seen her posts online. He saw her give that kid who spilled his yogurt a free replacement last week, and she helped an elderly man find his misplaced car keys. That was so kind of her. Her art was so pretty and her online profile said she was single, so she was, wasn’t she?

The cold got worse and Nick had to touch her, he needed it. Alice tried pulling away politely, but his increasingly desperate grabs for her caused her to panic. In a desperate bid to keep a hold on her, he dug his fingers into her wrists, hard, until a large gloved hand that seemed to appear out of nowhere wrenched his away.

It was the first time Jack had touched anyone besides his sunshine, and it was so cold. It sent Nick into fits, clawing at his hands where Jack had touched him, the hallucinations getting worse. The sight terrifying Alice.

Nick hadn’t been alone during that incident. James Harrison had been worried about his friend’s increasingly strange behavior. He tried to talk sense into Nick when he started acting increasingly erratic. When Nick grabbed onto Alice, James helped pry Nick off her, but he felt a terrible cold that made his hands itch when he succeeded.

James managed to calm Nick out of his fit, after a little while. He apologized to Alice for the scene, trying to smooth things over so that she wouldn’t call the cops. In the arms of his friend, Nick managed to start calming down and start coming back to himself. He was comforted by the warmth of someone he cared for and who cared about him. With everyone shaken, James escorted Nick home.

When in the company of his friend, feeling that warmth of connection, Nick was okay. But that night when he was home alone after he had reassured James over and over that he was just tired, he needed sleep, and that he would see a doctor tomorrow… his mind went back to Alice.

The hallucinations were so much worse, eating away at Nick. Only Alice could make them go away for good, he was sure of it. He even knew where she lived. He also knew how to pick locks, how to be quiet. If he just saw her alone without anyone around, he could make her see just how much he needed her, how much he wanted to get to know her, love her. His thoughts about her had deteriorated from an innocent crush into a sick obsession that he believed must be true love.

The plan did work, to a point. Nick managed to break in without alerting others in the apartment complex or waking Alice up. He just never expected that she wouldn’t be alone in her apartment.

In a sense, what happened to Nick ties into my past theory that he (and the other love interests) were all yanderes. It might have been debunked, but it can be something fun to play with in a universe where there’s an infection that turns people into monstrous yanderes.

After the incident with Nick at Yogurtopia, Alice was pretty shaken up. She felt paranoid going home that night. Fortunately she had Jack to watch out for her. It was only because of his reassurance and comfort that she was able to get any sleep that night.

Jack was also the only reason why Nick didn’t get his hands on Alice again that night.

Sunny Day Jack isn’t a violent person, or at least he has convinced himself that he isn’t, but he isn’t going to let anyone hurt or take away his sunshine. No matter what it takes.

Alice woke up to Nick’s hysterical screaming. She burst out of bed in time to see him fleeing from the apartment. She also saw Jack looming in the dark like a terrifying sentinel, something otherworldly and dangerous. The moment Jack sensed her fear though, he was back to normal, soft and reassuring. He told her someone broke into the apartment, but he managed to scare them off… somehow. When Alice asked about the blood, Jack told her (truthfully) that Nick was already bleeding when he snuck in. In fact, he started hurting himself before he ran away. She wondered if Jack lied to not scare her with the fact that he was capable of violence despite his kid-friendly persona, but later the next day she heard from the police that the wounds were in fact self-inflicted.

After all, Jack doesn’t need to get his own hands dirty when he can have Nick take care of it for him.

Word of the infection spreads, along with the infection itself. Alice refused to allow her family to come visit her after she told them about the break-in, when she feared that she might be infected as well due to her close proximity to Nick and him bleeding all over her home. She was examined by doctors, but when they didn’t find anything, she was sent home with instructions to self-isolate and monitor herself for any potential symptoms that might appear.

Once more, Alice was isolated in her home with only Jack for company. He cleaned up the mess for her so she wouldn’t have to look at the blood, and helped reinforce her door so that no one could break in as easily again… but the news made it clear that the world was becoming an even more dangerous place.

A Lonely Apocalypse

As one might expect, an infection that spreads by sight and sound spreads quickly, especially when it makes people desperate to reach out and touch others, spreading it even faster. Quarantine zones were broken easily, and chaos descended across the entire world. Infrastructures fell apart in the chaos, such as electricity, internet, and plumbing. Infected people broke into homes to find others to join them. Civilization collapsed.

Alice lost contact with her family when the internet and phone lines went down. Last she heard was that they were in isolation and they were all fine. Mercifully, no one was showing symptoms. Barbie had left her apartment and returned to their family home before travel became dangerous. The King family could watch out for one another, but Alice worried about them and her friends dearly.

Shaun, being more trope savvy about zombie apocalypses did decently well for himself despite the circumstances. He managed to escape being infected and has been able to isolate with Olivia and a few other survivors. Animals, mercifully, seem to be immune to the infection, so MoonPie is safe in his care as well. He’s slowly breaking down the “rules” of the infection in order to understand it and why some people are affected more strongly than others. He, like so many others, wants to figure out where it comes from and if it can be stopped. He is also pretty damn sure that this infection is something supernatural, so science alone can’t explain it, let alone put a stop to it.

Shaun and Alice communicated via internet and phone before both went down, so they knew that the other was safe until that point. Because Alice was suspected of being infected, she couldn’t join him and the other survivors. By this point she had a strong suspicion that she was an asymptomatic carrier of the infection.

But it was fine. Alice didn’t need to join up with survivors anyway. She had Jack to protect her. Shaun didn’t know who this Jack was, never having seen him in person. It stung to know that he was Alice’s new boyfriend, but he managed to joke that he was looking forward to meeting Jack “when all this craziness is over.”

The joke came out even more strained due to very real fears that might never happen.

When Ian first heard about the infection back in Texas, he wanted to take a flight back immediately and check up on Alice. However, by that time the city had been put under lockdown. Without any word about Alice, he grew increasingly worried about her, since she was already dealing with a chronic illness. When he heard through a mutual acquaintance that she might be infected, he was racked with guilt for leaving her, blaming himself. This wouldn’t have happened if he never left for college.

A lot of things never would have happened if he hadn’t left.

Alice picked up the phone for Ian once. Though it was hard on her, she was relieved that he was safe. When he wanted to see her, she told him under no uncertain terms not to. It was only when she outright told him that she was infected that he stopped begging her to change her mind.

The news shocked Ian, horrified him. He broke down, babbling apologies, and Alice told him it was fine. She forgave him for cheating and told him to not feel guilty about that anymore. He should focus on staying safe and not worry about her anymore. He needed to focus on taking care of himself now.

This was a final message from Alice to find closure with Ian and sincerely wish him happiness in spite of everything. What happened between them still hurt her, but in the wake of an apocalypse it was a more distant pain, smaller in the face of far more immediate threats. She also had Jack to support and comfort her. She had his love to heal her wounded heart and keep her safe. She felt stronger thanks to Jack in spite of everything.

Despite Alice’s attempts to alleviate Ian of guilt, his guilt only grew worse. He felt like he had to do something. Alice ended the call after telling him definitively to forget about her and not call her again, but how could he after everything they’ve been through? After how badly he failed her? He tried calling her back, but she finally blocked his number.

The guilt and his feelings for Alice ate Ian alive. It made him determined to get back to her and make things right, quarantine or no quarantine.

Even if that meant he got infected too. At least then they would always be together… like they should have been all along.

So Ian is trying to find Alice while avoiding the infected. It’s almost certain that he’ll fail the latter, but perhaps not the former… though what state he’d be in when he finally finds Alice might be something far more horrific than the boy she used to know and love.

Building a Life Together While the World Falls Apart

Although the world is crumbling down around them, Jack is getting stronger. He’s become more solid, stronger, and others can see him now. He can defend his sunshine from the infected, and he’s actually very good at it. Somehow he always manages to find a way to chase them off.

While for the most part Jack comes away unscathed from such encounters, sometimes he gets a little scratched up, which results in Alice fussing over him. He’ll never admit it, but he gets a little careless sometimes just to be spoiled by his sunshine. He knows it’s naughty of him, and he really doesn’t want to worry her, but it feels so good to be cared for so sweetly. He always asks her to kiss his boo-boos better, which leads to kissing other places as well.

Alice knows perfectly well that the aching Jack feels in his cock isn’t from any injury he took, but she’ll still kiss it until he feels allll better anyway~ He makes sure to make her feel very good as well in return.

Given how stressful things are and how isolated survivors have become, sex is a pretty obvious way to pass the time. Jack takes every excuse he can to seduce Alice, as long as the place they’re staying in is secured. He’s not going to be reckless with her safety. The infection might not affect her, but the infected are another story. He doesn’t care if anyone sees them (and really he’d enjoy showing off how much his sunshine loves him), but an infected isn’t simply going to sit back and appreciate the show.

Whenever Jack catches Alice worrying about her friends and family, he makes sure to redirect her focus on him as much as possible. He’s very good at distracting her with his love, placing kisses all over her body between sweet words of comfort and praise. She’s doing so well handling everything. She’s so strong, so kind, and so beautiful. She doesn’t have to handle it alone. He’s right here for her. He’ll always be with her, forever, and he loves her so, so much, more than anyone in the world.

It’s for the best that it’s just the two of them now. Even if Alice is infected, Jack is either immune or asymptomatic too, so it’s perfectly safe with just the two of them. He doesn’t have to worry about losing her to the infection, and she doesn’t have to worry about accidentally infecting him like she would her friends or family. They’ll be safe as long as they stay away and stay together, just like they’re doing now. Jack promises to make sure that neither of them will ever have to feel lonely ever again.

At present, the pair managed to secure an abandoned house. Well, mansion. Only the best for his sunshine, Jack said. Sure it took a lot of work fixing it up and cleaning up the messes, but as long as they’re together, they can handle anything life throws at them. They can face the world together, just the two of them.

After securing the place against invasions from infected or survivors taking advantage of the chaos, they managed to fix the place up to be rather cozy. They’ve secured a fair amount of supplies, and even started growing food both on the grounds and in a greenhouse. Alice knew a lot of tricks for how to grow plants effectively thanks to her mother’s expertise in the subject, and Jack handled much of the grunt work thanks to his strength.

It was kind of nice at times, like they were in their own little world. They could almost forget the outside world… if not for the occasional screams and wailing in the distance.

Despite the circumstances, and the occasional conflict, life in the mansion was actually pretty good for Jack and Alice. With animals being immune, they even got some pets in the form of dogs, cats, chickens, and even a couple rabbits. The animals also weren’t a threat to steal away his sunshine, so Jack was able to open his heart to them and love them as well, which helped to balance him emotionally a little.

That isn’t to say that it’s not hard on the two of them psychologically. Alice had to shoot people, infected and not, in order to survive. Jack wanted to handle all threats that came their way, but the infected had numbers on their side. Even supernatural powers have their limits, and this virus that he unknowingly started has gone far, far out of his control. He couldn’t stop it even if he tried.

That isn’t to say that Jack wouldn’t be the key to stopping it somehow. Someone just needs to put the pieces together and figure out the cause of the infection, then maybe they can figure out a way to stop it once and for all.

I think I’ll wrap things up on that note. I hope you enjoyed this ramble of supernatural biological horror. Let me know if you want to hear more about this or any other AU or story I’ve made. Thanks for reading!

@channydraws @earthgirlaesthetic @sai-of-the-7-stars @cheriihoney @illary-kore @okamiliqueur @kurokrisps

[blueiscoool]

The Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum Theft

Five things you probably didn’t know about the biggest art heist in history

Most art galleries and museums are famous for the art they contain. London’s National Gallery has Van Gogh’s “Sunflowers”; “The Starry Night” meanwhile, is held at The Museum of Modern Art in New York, in good company alongside Salvador Dalì’s melting clocks, Andy Warhol’s soup cans and Frida Kahlo’s self-portrait.

The Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum in Boston, however, is now more famous for the artwork that is not there, or at least, that is no longer there.

On March 18 1990 the museum fell prey to history’s biggest art heist. Thirteen works of art estimated to be worth over half a billion dollars — including three Rembrandts and a Vermeer — were stolen in the middle of the night, while the two security guards sat in the basement bound in duct tape.

The robbery is a treasure trove of surprising facts and unexpected plot twists. Here are five things that make the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, and its famous theft, so interesting.

The woman behind the building:

Isabella Stewart Gardner, the museum’s founder and namesake, is a fascinating character. The daughter and eventual widow of two successful businessmen, Gardner was a philanthropist and art collector who built the museum to house her stash.

“When she opened the museum in 1903 she mandated that it be free of charge, to gain the appreciation and the attendance of all of Boston,” Stephan Kurkjian, author of “Master Thieves: The Boston Gangsters Who Pulled Off the World’s Greatest Art Heist”, said in the programme. “Her museum, at that point in time, was the largest collection of art by a private individual in America.”

Gardner also had links to the fledgling campaign for women’s political rights. The museum displays the photographs and letters of her friend Julia Ward Howe, an organizer of two US suffrage societies, and a print of Ethel Smyth, a composer and close friend of the English Suffragette leader Emmeline Pankhurst.

Gardner met Smyth through their mutual friend, the painter John Singer Sargent, whose portrait of Gardener raised eyebrows for the low-cut neckline he gave her.

Gardner seemed to enjoy flirting with scandal and gossip: she once arrived at a Boston Symphony Orchestra performance in a hat band emblazoned with the name of her favorite baseball team, Red Sox, and an illustration in a January 1897 edition of the Boston Globe showed her apparently taking one of Boston Zoo’s lions for a walk.

Somewhat ironically, when the Mona Lisa was stolen in 1911, Gardner told her museum guards that, if they saw anyone trying to rob them, they should shoot to kill.

The art not taken:

The thieves’ loot is estimated to be worth over half a billion dollars. However, they left the building’s most expensive artifact: “The Rape of Europa” by Titian, which Gardner bought from a London art gallery in 1896, then a record price for an old master painting.

Why commit history’s greatest art heist and leave without the priciest piece in the museum? Well, size may have played a role. The largest artwork taken was Rembrandt’s “Christ in the Storm on the Sea of Galilee,” famous for being Rembrandt’s only seascape and measures roughly 5x4 feet. “The Rape of Europa,” meanwhile, is larger, at nearly 6x7 feet.

The Napoleon factor:

Around 2005, the investigation into the stolen artworks took a detour to the French island of Corsica in the Meditteranean Sea. Two Frenchmen with alleged ties to the Corsican mob were trying to sell two paintings: a Rembrandt and a Vermeer. Former FBI Special Agent Bob Wittman was involved in a sting to try and buy them — but the operation eventually fell apart when the men were arrested for selling art taken from the Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art in Nice instead.

Why would “Corsican mobsters,” as correspondent Randi Kaye described them in the programme, be interested in robbing a Boston art museum? The answer could lie in the Bronze Eagle Finial, the 10-inch ornament stolen from the top of a Napoleonic flag during the heist.

“It was sort of an odd choice for the thieves to take (the Finial),” Kaye said, “but it turns out that Corsica is essentially the homeland of Napoleon.” The French emperor was born on the island in 1769, and a national museum is now housed in his former family home.

“It is a very compelling notion,” Kelly Horan, Deputy Editor of the Boston Globe, said in the programme, “that a Corsican band of gangsters might have tried to steal back their flag and pull off the entire rest of the heist in the process.”

A rock’n’roll suspect:

March 18 1990 was not the first time a Rembrandt had been stolen from a Boston museum. In 1975, career criminal and art thief Myles Connor walked into Boston’s Museum of Fine Arts, and walked out with a Rembrandt tucked into his oversized coat pocket. He was the FBI’s first suspect in the Gardner case, however the walls of federal prison — where he was incarcerated on drugs charges — gave him a pretty solid alibi.

When he wasn’t lifting famous artworks from their displays, Connor was a musician. It was through gigging that he met Al Dotoli, who worked with stars including Frank Sinatra and Liza Minelli.

In 1976 Connor was jailed for a separate art theft committed in Maine. Hoping to use his stolen Rembrandt to leverage a lesser sentence, he needed Dotoli — who was on tour with Dionne Warwick — to turn the painting in to the authorities on his behalf.

An invisible thief?

One of the stolen artworks, Édouard Manet’s “Chez Tortoni,” was taken from the museum’s Blue Room on the first floor. The painting stands out for two reasons, the first being its frame. The thieves left almost all of the frames behind, cutting some out of the front.

“To even leave remnants of the painting(s) behind was savage,” Horan said. “In my mind, it’s sort of like slashing someone’s throat.”

The “Chez Tortoni” frame was unusual for where it was left, though: not in the room it was stolen from, but in the chair of the security office downstairs. Even more remarkable, not a single motion detector was set off in the Blue Room. Bar investigating the possibility of ghost robbers, investigators wondered if this pointed to the plot being an inside job.

“At the FBI we found that about 89% of museum institutional heists are inside jobs,” Wittman said. “That’s how these things get stolen.”

By Caitlin Chatterton.

[terrence-silver]

Would Terry like it if beloved queefed during sex? (Queefing is when the pussy farts or makes noises)

---

Terry Silver is like a feral hound with a chew toy.

The more it squeaks, writhes, creaks, screeches --- the better.

He likes it, loves it, relishes it, adores it!

In fact, beloved's sounds, they incentive him as he goes deliberately out of his way to ensure their cunt makes the most delectable, perverted and downright nasty noises he can have it make for him, taking things as far as competing with himself to see if he can have beloved's pussy manifest its horniness and arousal in the most lurid sense possible, each time better (or worse) than the last; doing so through queefing, squirting, leaking, farting; you name it! This is the debauched sadist in Terry being fed and satisfied. Especially if beloved's embarrassed by what just took place. Especially if they can't help themselves, their body no longer under their own control because he holds the reigns of power instead, able to do to with them whatever it is he wants to do. Added bonus lies in the fact that they're in some shape, way or form tied up or restrained, helpless and at his mercy while he plays with them relentlessly, making them queef. He might even pretend he's taken aback by it once it finally happens. That he doesn't like what just took place. Giving beloved an unblinking death stare to fuel their blood even further through some good, old humiliation play, having them clearly vocalize what they just did there while maintaining stares with him. What was that, huh? Do they think that's acceptable? Answer me! Are they an animal or are they a person? If they're an animal, do they wanna be fucked like an animal too? He doesn't quite hear what you should answered. Be louder! Clearer!

Other times?

Terry might not even hide how genuinely and inappropriately pleased he is, dropping the role of a strict disciplinarian to be the gleeful snake instead. Giggling, howling, laughing and smiling ear from ear once he gets beloved's cunt to make yet another horrendous, horrendous sound. He treats it the way an audience member treats a tournament, practically cheering for it, in equal measure, being very much like a hormonal teenager in a grown man's body who just discovered he can do something incredible if he fucks you a certain way, for certain amounts of time, popping out of you under a certain angle and it literally never gets dull for him what sounds and noises he can draw out from his beloved. We can even take it a step further with the assurance that regardless if this is Terry in the 80's making homevideo VHS recordings or an older Terry, endowed with some high tech piece of modern equipment for a privately encrypted archive full of filth, he will absolutely find ways to record and even immortalize his and beloved's sex tapes with compilations of various noises he collected them out of them like they're accolades and trophies --- and to Terry, they very much are --- as well as giving himself a way to have concrete evidence that says 'look what I've been making you do.'

So, yeah, not only does he like queefing --- he makes it into a competitive sport.

Then again, Terry Silver makes everything into a competitive sport.

The more depraved and downright wicked, the more fun it is.

[arcticfoxfacts]

The Elephant 6 Lost Release: E6-013 - The Clay Bears

Below the cut for more info!

Okay, well it was never released, only catalogued!

“The Clay Bears” was, per the Elephant 6 Instagram, an experimental noise band from Ruston, Louisiana featuring a rotating lineup of Elephant 6 musicians. They were “known for their unpredictable performances and room-clearing live shows.”

One of the more well known quotes about the band came from the Elephant 6 website, which used to read “Clay Bears - One of the big mysteries of the E6. Apparently a super-group of some sort from the Ruston-era. The band had a revolving door line-up which at some points included such people as Scott Spillane, Jeff Mangum & Will Westbrook. They are thanked in the liner notes of Neutral Milk Hotel's album On Avery Island.”

And they are thanked on the On Avery Island linear notes! Taken from my personal copy:

That quote is no longer on the website, but it is archived on NMH fansite neutralmilkhotel.org. That website also contains this snippet of information: "In a BBC interview in August 1998, Jeff mentioned the Clay Bears had a double album which was poised to be released. This never transpired, however. Ross Beach, a member of the band for a while, told me the following: 'As far as I know, the Clay Bears never had any official releases, though there were probably some 4-track cassette one-offs floating around Ruston in the early 90's. That was also a Jeff solo project, only noisier and more chaotic. The live version that I was in was purely an experimental noise improv band.'"

So based off this, we can assume that The Clay Bears was a project possibly spearheaded by Jeff Mangum and there may be demo tapes floating around the Elephant 6 sphere. The double LP Jeff mentioned is catalogued (but not listed in the database) as E6-013 on Discogs.

There is supposedly a clip of a Clay Bears concert on YouTube, but the video's since been privated. A Reddit post on r/Elephant6 asked about this clip (but got no replies). This redditor also did some digging, supposedly uncovering news from the 2006 Elephant 6 website about a DVD release with a Clay Bears snippet. Whether or not the supposed clip would be the one from the YouTube video is not known. The redditor further opines that the DVD was never released. Another redditor on a different post asked Jeff (because this was back when NMH were on their reunion tour) if Clay Bears would ever see the light of day, saying "it’s up to the people to decipher." The post itself speculates that the Clay Bears would appear on the Elephant 6 documentary. Admittedly, I haven't seen the doc, but I would assume it didn't end up appearing because there's seldom any discussion about the band or any resurfaced clip.

In another Reddit post, a user shows the University of Georgia media archive, which featured several Neutral Milk Hotel stuff in the Robert Schneider Collection of Elephant 6 Recording Co. Records. There is a Wayback link, but it's broken and while I can see the first recording is NMH instrumentals, I don't know what the second recording is. Apparently, the Clay Bears is somewhere in the archives, but the University of Georgia seems to have removed the collection and the Wayback Machine only archived the two aforementioned files. Although according to a commenter in the Reddit post, most of the links (including the Clay Bears) didn't work and would require going out to Georgia to listen to the physical tapes.

So that's about where the whole Clay Bears mystery stands. It's interesting how there's been multiple possible Clay Bears leaks, yet none of them seemed to survive. The Clay Bears is still listed as an Elephant 6 band under "The Collective + Extended Family" section of the website and there was an (aforementioned) Instagram post by the official Elephant 6 account last year.

Last thing, the image up at the top was posted by the Elephant 6 Instagram, but I don't really know what it is. They don't explain it and reverse image searching turns up nothing. It could be one of Jeff's demo tapes, but that's pure speculation on my part. I might try to contact them in the future for clarity, but I'm lazy and shy so I dunno.

Anyway, here's a few posters also posted by the Elephant 6 Instagram:

[qedmirage]

Heisei Godzilla Short Reviews

The groupchat has been going through the Heisei Godzilla films and we're near the end, so I figure I might as well offer my thoughts on them. I keep trying to write longer posts for each movie, but getting distracted and failing - so the emphasis here is on short thoughts.

The Return of Godzilla: I'll be honest, we skipped this one. Godzilla returns and the flying gunship Super X-1 shows up in the start of the ultratech arms race that runs through these films.

Godzilla vs. Biollante: First time the psychics show up. The ultratech development goes to the Super X-2, another flying gunship, and a whole subplot about godzilla cells (take a shot!) and a godzilla-based "Anti-Nuclear Energy Bacteria" that might destroy all nuclear weapons. I like Biollante's design, plant kaiju are fun and it's got neat godzilla influences in its biology.

The funniest part of this movie is in the spy thriller subplot the evil spy is actually very effective at his mission but his plans keep getting derailed by Kaiju attacks. He'll be 90% free from the cops and then a kaiju steps on the highway and makes a traffic jam, it's great.

Godzilla vs. King Ghidorah: I remembered this film being confusing when I saw it as a child and guess what, it is! Not only is this "The Time Travel Movie", it has some pretty baffling character motivations and actions, and a focus on some Future Gadget Stuff that doesn't really do much for the film. Do we need a scene of jetpacks, or an extended trip to 1945? This film features the brazen assertion that nuclear explosions turns animals giant, and also has a privately owned nuclear submarine full of nuclear waste.

While the Futurians are cool as a concept their organizational lead goes from secretly plotting to use King Ghidorah to blow up Japan to using King Ghidorah to save Japan for no clear reason. You can feel the director straining against the gimmicky kid stuff in the film. At least the villain death is cool.

This film marks the first of several where there's just so much shit going on they don't really have time for any mystery about the kaiju, which makes me sad.

Godzilla vs. Mothra: Battra is in this movie and makes a strong impression, with its first appearance as a worm consisting of it rapidly beelining to destroy the highest number of buildings possible. Character wise, our male protagonist's funny quirk is that he's an adventure archaeologist who doesn't pay his child support, which is...a choice.

Godzilla vs. Mechagodzilla II : Rodan is in this movie for some reason, and Baby Godzilla too. The ultratech has moved on from flying gunships to giving the anti-godzilla task force a Mechagodzilla, naturally, but also an "old busted" up flying gunship Garuda that hasn't been seen before. I like the use of non-japanese actors for some of the bit roles at the anti-godzilla task force.

Again there's probably too much stuff in this movie, but it also has this funny situation of the film not seeming to know if Mechagodzilla is an evil bully or a strong hero saving us from Godzilla.

Funniest moment of the film: a stolen prehistoric plant has a psychic recording that the telepath kids take off it and put on a casette tape, and when the tape is played stuff happens. The Plant - > cassette reformatting process is the zaniest thing to happen and they gloss over it in about two lines.

Godzilla vs. SpaceGodzilla: Some godzilla cells got into space (either on Biollante or Mothra) and then (no evidence is provided for this assertion) 'fell through a black hole, came out a white hole, and created Space Godzilla'. The Godzilla suit looks nicer and SpaceGodzilla has a great suit too, though I wish we got more wondering about the ecology of SpaceGodzilla's crystals that start growing all over the place.

After Mechagodzilla got beat up in melee last film, the military made MOGUERA, which has drills. Sure. There's a baffling subplot about a UNGCC guy Yuki who I cannot figure out his position, and a scientist who wants to use telepathy to mind control Godzilla. Between that, the psychic kids now being psychic teenagers, and the mecha, the world is terrifyingly close to Evangelion happening.

[1spy]

1989 | Michael Penn - “No Myth”

So these posts I've been writing are documenting a project: A playlist that gets to the core of how I've experienced music in my life—one song for each year I've been alive. As I've been going through the process, I noticed most of the songs I chose are from foundational artists with long careers. Most of these artists have multiple songs and albums that are special to me. And I've had a REALLY hard time picking just one song and one year to represent these them.

But "No Myth" by Michael Penn isn't really that. It's just a great song that haunts me. A song that felt formative in my life, even if I never really cared about anything else he did. I mean, it's nothing personal. Michael Penn has had a long and fruitful career. He's released multiple critically acclaimed albums. He's the brother of famous actors Chris and Sean Penn. He's married to one of my all-time favorite songwriters, Aimee Mann. He's been a prolific film and tv composer.

So while It's accurate to say "No Myth" was his only Top 40 hit, I don't consider Penn a one-hit wonder. Still, that's kind of what he is for me. I've heard a bunch of his other stuff, and it's fine. But I only liked this one song. 

But, damn, what a song.

The insistent marching drums (for which the album is named). The oblique, literary lyrics. The hummable, descending bass line in the verse. The exquisite Lennon-esque vocal melody over a simple, driving acoustic guitar. Hearing this song is when I started to figure out what I love about music. And when I started to write my own songs, I was trying to build songs like this.

But I said haunting, and what haunts me is the Chamberlin organ the song uses to augment its god-tier guitar solo. As I learned from MTV, Harry Chamberlain's invention was a precursor to the Mellotron: an analog electric keyboard that played short tape recordings of music each time you pressed a key. Essentially, it was a machine built to play back samples of music before samplers or synthesizers existed.

The sound of the Chamberlain undulating beneath the lead guitar is intoxicating. And for a long time after hearing this song, it became what I demanded when I sought out new music. I wanted guitars and keyboards, but I no longer wanted songs that sounded like the bright synths and super-compressed lead guitars of the 80s. I wanted stuff that evoked the Beatles and Stones. Stuff that sounded like classic rock but also sounded new. Back then, I would describe this as "organic," years before organic food was really a thing. I was probably reading too much music criticism (I definitely read too much music criticism).

Fave Lyrics:

Some time from now you'll bow to pressure Some things in life you cannot measure by degrees I'm between the poles and the equator Don't send no private investigator to find me please 'Less he speaks Chinese And can dance like Astaire overseas (okay)

P.S. Lots of people I know love the rest of the album. They love multiple Michael Penn albums. But, as I said, I only really like this one song. I made a whole other playlist of songs that are like this for me. Not necessarily one hit wonders. Most of them aren't hits at all. They're just songs by artists both obscure and well-known where, for whatever reason, only one song ever did it for me. The playlist is called The Sound of One Song Hitting.

Apple Music: https://music.apple.com/.../the-sound-of.../pl.u-y9XVfz4y41v

Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6EpdbOvAPpvMrqRElfjZmo...

[thelocalbozo]

You're Not That Bad Sokol x Jacket

I fucking love this ship and I will die on this hill I do not care, anyway's I am also posting this on ao3 and that one will be multi-chaptered if you like this fic you may like the longer version too :]

The gang was having a horror movie marathon at the safe house. It was Dallas’ idea to do it, granted he didn’t really think about the people who were afraid or didn’t like horror movies. Everyone was curled up with blankets and pillows in the common area, Wolf clung to Hoxton, who was unbothered eating popcorn. Sokol and Jacket were curled up next to each other shitting on the characters who were dying and how the killers made no sense, Jacket scribbled comments down on a notepad. Sokol chuckled after the last comment, 

“You know you aren’t that bad.” Sokol whispered looking at Jacket, studying the sociopath's face. Jacket’s eyes widened ever so slightly before he looked back at the notepad scribbling down a response.

‘You are not bad to’ Jacket looked back up at Sokol, who was reading his illiterate writing. Neither of them were paying attention to the movie on the screen, there was a loud jumpscare, Sokol jumped being startled back into reality, he grabbed Jacket holding him before realizing what he jumped at. He pushed himself off Jacket, who was more or less surprised by the sudden physical contact, everyone had looked over at them when it happened, Jacket waved them off and everybody went back to the movie. He looked back at Sokol who looked awkward, blush lightly dusted his cheeks from embarrassment, apologized for it and started watching the movie again. Jacket scribbled on the notepad again, poking Sokol holding up the pad for him to read. 

‘Its ok man’ Sokol looks back up again, smiling awkwardly. He brings his arm up and wraps it around Jacket’s shoulder, pulling him closer. Jacket was surprised by the action but didn’t mind and they went back to shitting on the characters again.

“That’s a stupid way to die, I wouldn’t die like that, in fact I’d kill the killer.” Sokol laughs under his breath looking over at Jacket who smiled at the comment. ‘Me too’

Eventually it begins getting  late and everyone is starting to fall asleep, some cuddled up together, Jacket and Sokol were among the few that cuddled together, granted that was not intended, they just both fell asleep, Sokol had unwrapped his arm from Jacket before they did, but they still ended up sleeping in each others arms, Jacket’s head rested on Sokol’s large chest, arm wrapped around his waist, while Sokol snored softly into Jackets short hair, his arm back around his shoulder. The next morning however, Sydney, Jimmy and Wolf stared down at the two, giggling and as giddy as small school children Sydney took pictures on her phone claiming ‘it’s for research’, Dallas reentered the room cleaning up excess blankets and pillows, expressing that it wasn’t a good idea to take pictures given Jacket’s temper, Sydney brushed him off saying she has done worse and he didn’t care. Dallas just huffed out a laugh and shook his head walking out of the common area with an arms load of blankets. Soon after Dallas left Sokol and Jacket started to wake up unsure of their surroundings, groggily they opened their eyes Jacket was the first to realize their position and that the rest of the ‘freak squad’ were practically surround them, he popped up into a sitting position blushing bright red by the embarrassing turn of events, Sokol took a minute to register what was happening before also popping up standing quickly, Jacket followed suit. 

“What’s wrong mate? Thought ya get more private time together?” Sydney laughed out, watching them awkwardly look away from one another, Jacket searched for his tape recorder finding it he rewound it, pressing play.

‘Exercise caution when aggravating my temper’ He looked at the three in front of them giving them a look of disdain, granted he looked like that most of the time so they were used to it, Jimmy was the next to speak, perking up and smirking. 

“When were you gonna tell us? We’re your best friends!” He stated giggling, Jacket raised an eyebrow and shook his head wildly, Sokol’s face burned bright red at the comment, slapping a hand over his mouth before quickly exiting the room, nearly running down the stairs to his hockey rink. Jacket shook his head more as he walked off to the kitchen area. They all giggled mischievously. They were planning something.    

[thozhar]

Apart from the telephone, even letters were a popular means of staying connected. Being more personal, affordable, and accessible, they allowed one to express wholeheartedly, especially the new brides. At home, Amma would pack some khasta and bhunja (our native snacks) and stitch them all together in a piece of cloth with our letters. I remember, Papa once replied, “Jab bhi Nehal ka khat aata hai, main kayi maah tak usko padhta hoon.” (Whenever Nehal’s letter arrives, I read it for several months.) Only later, did I truly acknowledge his emotions and my naivety as a child who didn’t understand then that ‘maah’ meant month. 

Later, even recorded audio tapes were used by migrants to exchange messages but my family did not engage in this practice as it was mostly used by newly married couples; it was not widely respected among elders. Then, the coin-calling system emerged, with a coin offering a minute of conversation. Another method was operator-calling, often considered illegal, but still used frequently as it allowed migrants to talk for a longer duration at any desired time, marking the beginning of uninterrupted communication among migrant families. The advent of mobile phones in the subsequent years further allowed for more private conversations and individual autonomy. Initially, only migrants used them but later even their families joined in and the significance of landline phones gradually declined. Initially, without the Internet, there were options like calling cards. Papa would often caution us to talk for five minutes only when calling on someone else’s mobile, as he had bought a five-minute calling card.

In 2014 and 2015, Papa and Abbu returned from the Gulf respectively. They were among the first batch to leave, and now the third generation is working there. Besides WhatsApp, other apps like I.M.O. and Skype have also grown popular due to the easy accessibility of smartphones and the Internet. However, amidst this rapidly changing world, my most significant memory of Papa’s life abroad is still the installation of the landline telephone in our home—how I would inform all the migrants to dial our phone number instead of calling in another mohalla. I would proudly declare in one go, “Ab humaare ghar phone lag gaya hai aur humaara number 25240 hai; 06154 laga lena pehle.” (Now we have a telephone at our home and our number is 25240; please add 06154 as a prefix.) 

As happy as I have been, to be able to hold on to these bittersweet childhood memories, I cannot deny the fact that my father’s migration deprived me of a normal childhood and experiences that would have been possible in his presence. A sense of detachment and an agonizing silence lurk between us—a void that seems only to be deepening in this digital age, reminding me that I am not merely a participant of migration but also a victim of migration.

— Gulf Calling by Nehal Ahmed

[maniaemagna]

TW: Child abuse, mention of drugs, child neglect

I recently heard about a Tik Tok video where a man is criticizing a mom for yelling at her child who was quietly playing who wanted her attention. A parent who couldn't be bothered to spare her child some attention. Yelling at her child in manor equivalent to if they are walking into danger or did something really bad.

I also heard about Moms across the internet just going "you don't understand" and excusing the mom's behavior.

Now I shall give my opinion...

Not as a childless adult.

But as a former child who was neglected and occasionally abused.

She has no excuse. Fuck her and I hope the dad is a better parent.

My dad did the same thing except it was the TV. It didn't matter if it was his day off or if he just got off work. He would sit down then watch TV. If you wanted his attention 90% of the time he didn't want to talk to anyone, would occasionally give lectures during anything anyone else wanted to watch (he claimed we were interfering with him enjoyment of whatever we were watching if we asked him to stop) and would treat anyone who wanted his attention as an annoyance.

This was also often the time when I would be at most risk of being hit. Since I sat next to the television set and VCR I was required to dig through the many poorly labelled VHS tapes. If I couldn't immediately find the tape he wanted to watch he would start getting angrier and angrier. Then he would start accusing me of hiding stuff. I would explain I couldn't find the tape with whatever program they recorded (some stuff wasn't on the label) and about this time he would hit me. He'd slap the top of my head as hard as he could.

People might say that "just because she yelled at her child doesn't mean she is like your dad". Sorry, but no. When you are a parent there is no such thing as getting a break as a parent. That is at least one of the many reasons why I don't want to have kids. Because they will always need you to be there. They need your attention, love and help.

Also the parents excusing her are no better than parents like my dad because he knew about kids who were being abused and neglected worse than I was but he refused to report them to CPS.

One parent like this would scream like a banshee at his son publicly but in private he would scream at and hit his child. I could actually HEAR him hit his son through the walls of his home. His father kept him out of school to use him as a drug courier.

Note: I suspect he was the man that was found years later living in a local park selling drugs. Partly because he was the right age, had the same name and was described as a local who could no longer speak much English.

[romanxdrake]

  sleepness nights and sleepless days, pill bottles hidden in the glove box, skin marred with scars both old and new, deafening silence, crossing the yellow crime scene tape, another pot of coffee for another long night, the fallen son, missing persons fliers, a dog without a muzzle that bites and bites and bites.

❝ I'm not a hero. I don't do good, it's not in me. ❞

supply list: rope, duct tape and zip ties, pain pills and benzos, a few guns that definitely aren't in his name. the guy travels light and packs like a serial killer i don't know what to tell you.

Gender & Pronouns: Cis Male & He/Him Sexuality: Questioning Birthplace: Las Vegas Room #: Apt. 303 Years at the Wexley: 0

roman was raised in the city of sin by a family that seemed to take the name a little too literally: drugs. jail. gangs. violence. there wasn’t much in the criminal underground that the drakes didn’t have their fingers in. the second youngest of six kids, roman was expected to do his part in the family business just as those before him had–but even as a kid roman had his doubts about the lifestyle; growing disoriented as family members came and went to county, their criminal records growing longer every year. he was twenty-three when he finally had enough of the bullshit. roman had known for a long time that his family weren’t good people, it just never occurred to him that he had the option to break the pattern.

becoming a cop hadn’t been his first idea, but at the time it was the biggest fuck you he could think of to send to his family. roman became more or less dead to the drakes, ex-communicated the moment he stepped foot into the police academy. he tried a few awkward attempts at reaching out to his sisters, but he never really knew birdie and mauve was busy trying to make a life of her own. eventually he took a page from mauve’s book, moving to california and starting a life of his own. marriage was hard, and having a kid on the way only made things harder. he took his job at cold cases seriously and made the wrong priorities in life; there are only so many long nights you can spend alone before you go looking for someone to fill the space left by an absent spouse. roman and delilah had been on the verge of ending things for a while, but the events that happened the night june was born ensured their relationship was over.

roman doesn’t remember the night in its entirety–only coming home to see his wife and a stranger in the midst of an argument, then flashes of a golf club swinging at him. when roman awoke in the hospital several days later he was terrified to learn just how much he’d lost in the attack: his marriage, his hearing, and quite possibly his daughter, who was now fighting for her life in the icu after being born months too early. the official report was attempted murder-suicide, a jealous lover who wanted to kill the woman who’d ended their affair. roman was devastated, knowing that he’d drove delilah away from him and nearly put her and their daughter into an early grave. they'd tried counseling. couples, individual, ptsd. fucking art therapy for a month--because he owed her that much. in the end they agreed there was no way to put the pieces of what they had back together. delilah would take june and go live with her parents, but roman could have shared custody if he promised not to get her hopes up of having a father in her life then ghosting. roman quit the force, went private. went dark. hurt people who hurt people, that kind of thing. he developed a reputation as someone willing to work outside the lines of the law and birdie was able to put him in contact with people who needed that kind of help.

he was in new york to meet with birdie and follow up on a new job when the city went into lockdown. he's taken up in an apartment on the lowest floor to keep an eye on things near the lobby, because he has a real bad feeling about how things are heading in the city.

Previous zombie experience: N/A

[nsfwmiamiart]

(First Draft Version) Read this: Title: Guarding Faith in Fame: A Warning to Hollywood’s Christian Celebrities

Title: Hollywood Celebrities: A Call to Devout Christian Integrity

Let me explain to Christians in Hollywood how their exposure to corrupt behaviors in private parties since the early 2000s have made them complicit to the Anti-Christ's corrupt agenda of perverting Hollywood celebrities?

I want to teach these Christian celebrities the power of saying "No", they don't realize that every time they participate in these perverted parties, they give away their power to the Anti-Christ who will later use these perverted parties against them and jeapordize their freedom just like Diddy was tricked into these perverted parties, many other Christian celebrities are being tricked just like Diddy to accept these perverted parties not realizing that their consent and participation will later be used against them to destroy their careers and their lives.

Let me explain myself further in a few steps, here is an example:

Step 1 - Let's use the example of Diddy. In the early 2000s, he was still a devout Christian who happened to be a musician, he made it his career.

Step 2 - Once he achieved fame through his music career, then comes the private parties because when you have money, you can have lavish parties.

Step 3 - In the 2005 era, Diddy is now a Christian musician with a lot of money, and he parties almost every week. He doesn't realize that these parties are getting more and more perverted every year and two decades later, these same parties will be used against him. But since we are still in the beginning stages of early 2005, he doesn't know what he is signing up for, all he notices is that these parties make him feel like it is wrong, it does something to him as a Christian, he notices that there is something very perverted about these parties, but he doesn't reject this perversion, he accepts it. Because if he rejects this perversion, the Anti-Christ will accuse him of not being a good member of his secret societies.

Step 4 - Fast forward a decade later, in the 2015 era, he has spent a decade having perverted parties and it changed him. He is a very different person now. Diddy is not longer the devout Christian he used to be, he is now accustomed to having very perverted parties. It's like a drug now. Each party has to be even more perverted than the other. This is how in a span of a decade from 2005 to 2015, Diddy went from being a righteous musician to a perverted mogul who enjoys having perverted parties.

Step 5- Now fast-forward a decade later, in the 2025 era, he has been asked to sell his soul to the Anti-Christ but he refused, he rejected this pagan religion and for that reason alone, he was excommunicated. The end of his career and his freedom. Now he is fighting for his life, for his freedom. And the Anti-Christ used Diddy's own acceptance of perverted parties against Diddy. All the parties since the 2005 era have been recorded, they have tapes, they have witnesses. It was all a trap that has been set to entice Diddy since the beginning and the Anti-Christ has been patiently waiting for two decades to give Diddy an ultimatum, sell your soul or lose your freedom? Diddy rejected the Anti-Christ and accepted to lose his freedom instead. Now you all know what happened to Diddy. They trapped him with the sin of Lust, it led him down the rabbit hole of perverted sex parties and now there is proof with many witnesses and he can't escape the consequences of his own sins of Lust.

The sin of Lust is mentioned in the Bible, it would have been wiser to have self-control and reject these perverted lustful parties but he was too weak, they knew Diddy would give into temptation and become a sex addict. This is what led to his downfall, it was the sin of Lust.

And you all think that Diddy is a criminal, you don't know that he was being trapped since the beginning, he amassed a vast amount of lust related crimes, in the Justice system they call it "Sex Crimes", that's the correct term "Sex Crimes".

Diddy is like Jerry, and the Anti-Christ is like Tom. - Tom & Jerry.

Tom gave Jerry too much cheese, and it led Jerry to jail.

The Anti-Christ gave Diddy too many perverted parties, and it led Diddy to jail.

End of the story.

Anyone out there who didn't understand the predicament of Diddy and how he is a Christian man who has been set up since the early 2005 era, is just stupid.

Also, don't ever think that they will stop trapping Christian celebrities, oh, this is only the beginning. They will bring down many other celebrities in the coming years. You just watch the news.

If you all wonder why I know all this, I'm an Area 51 gang member and I live in Strasbourg, Alsace.

The Anti-Christ can't touch me because he fears European Christians, he knows we are the true soldiers of this Apocalypse.

The resistance is in Europe. All those who live in America will have to learn how to fight back and resist because if you choose to live in denial, guess what? They will destroy you by setting traps, just like they destroyed the gullible idiot Diddy.

Yes, I said it! Diddy is a gullible idiot, he should have prepared for this battle a decade ago when they killed his wife Kim Porter.

They killed her, and he was left there to defend himself all alone against this Anti-Christ bully.

You can launch an investigation into her death, you can even ask Diddy, he knows what killed her because they silenced him.

The celebrities all lie to the public, they are all held hostage by the Anti-Christ, those who reject this pagan religion have to learn how to fight back, you can't be non-violent, you have to take your guns and start shooting.

The apocalypse is here. Only dumb fucks reject this reality and choose to live in denial instead. They will all be forced to sell their souls because they refuse to fight back.

All those who refuse to fight back will be forced into submission, they have to sell their souls or lose their money and their freedom.

I choose to shoot them on sight, I wish they would come to me with that kind of disrespect. I will kill them all and bury them with a smile on my face. I have no fear in me. They are afraid of me and not the other way around.

Okay, this chat was fun.

Stay fighting and never back down, or you will lose your souls.

Prince Angelo.

[longpahern]

"Relaxing with a Mental PDA" Your 5 minutes daily progr ...

When it boils down to it, I think that it is how we work and even loosen up, for that matter that triggers stress. Ever been fretted even when you're used and well unwinded? Here are a few of the vital things that can be done by merely remembering it, thinking about that life is normally a routine to follow like brushing your teeth or consuming breakfast. You can do a few of them in a longer amount of time, nevertheless as they specify-- every minute counts. Managing time Time management capabilities can allow you more time with your loved ones and possibly increase your effectiveness and efficiency. This will assist in decreasing your stress. To improve your time management: Save time by focusing and focusing, turning over, and scheduling time by yourself. Keep a record of how you invest your time, including home, work, and leisure time. Prioritize your time by ranking tasks by worth and strength. Reroute your time to those activities that are vital and significant to you. 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Thought-stopping helps you stop an undesirable concept to help eliminate stress. Negating illogical concepts helps you to avoid overstating the undesirable concept, getting ready for the worst, and having a look at an event poorly. Problem dealing with helps you figure out all parts of a requiring event and find methods to manage it. Changing your interaction style helps you communicate in a way that makes your views comprehended without making others feel put down, hostile, or terrified. This lowers the stress that stems from bad interaction. Use the assertiveness ladder to improve your interaction style. Even authors like me can get stressed although we're just using our hands to do the talking, nevertheless requiring to sit for 7 or 8 hours is presently challenging enough and have our own technique to alleviate stress. Whether you're the mail guy, the CEO, or more than more than likely the common working mother and daddies, stress is one unfavorable visitor you wish to boot out of your homes, particularly your life. One technique to do this is by tape-recording the difficult event, your reaction, and how you cope in a stress journal. They may not set off stress directly, however they can prevent the approaches your body looks for treatment for stress. They may not set off stress directly, nevertheless they can hinder the techniques your body searches for treatment for stress. They may not set off stress directly, nevertheless they can hinder the strategies your body tries to find remedy for stress. They may not activate stress directly, nevertheless they can impede the techniques your body tries to find treatment for stress. They may not activate stress directly, nevertheless they can limit the methods your body looks for treatment for stress. They may not activate stress directly, nevertheless they can prevent the methods your body looks for treatment for stress. They may not set off stress directly, nevertheless they can impede the approaches your body tries to find treatment for stress. When an occasion triggers undesirable concepts, you may experience problem, stress and anxiety, tension and stress and tension and insecurity, stress and tension and stress and anxiety, rage, remorse, and a sense of insignificance or powerlessness. They may not activate stress directly, nevertheless they can limit the methods your body looks for treatment for stress. They may not set off stress directly, nevertheless they can interfere with the strategies your body looks for relief from stress.

https://click4information.com/lifestyle/relaxing-with-a-mental-pda-your-5-minutes-daily-progr-2/