#kill the voice within you who wants to defend men

[uramitashi]

when my friend implies a boy we know is a misogynist, i still have the impulse - you know, to defend him. To say "he's actually not that bad as a male, he's one of the good ones!"

i used to do that all the times when i was younger; i learned it from my mom. I remember being 12 and asking my mother why, why those nude photos of a girl my age circulating are embarassing for her? Why is it not embarassing for the boys who look her up? And my mother having to explain to me, men don't care about you as a person that much. Men will masturbate on the photos of 12 years olds - you included. I remember asking but is dad too? but is my brother too? how can i trust them if they are like that? and with an almost offended frown, she'd snap at me with an oh, but not all men are like that! Why would you even think that?

Growing up, she would do it all the time. Boys being pigs and my female classmates being groomed were just me exaggerating, me acting too much like a radical feminist instead of a normal one.

My mother has hated, without fail, every single one of my boyfriends. She would always remark that i am way, way better than any boy i have ever given attention and they should be grateful someone like me even looked in their direction. But oh how drastically did this attitude change, when i was the one venting about them. How i would become a stuck-up, exaggerated nagging girlfriend who can't accept that no one is perfect and men are just kind of worse than women. How everytime i would lament some sort of injustice - from my brother, from a boyfriend, from a male friend - she would be on first line defending him with sweat and blood. They are not all bad, you know. Give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he means well. Maybe you are exaggerating.

A boy in my uni college acts like a textbook misogynist. He uses girls for their body and services, openly insults women. Some of my old male friends have a single recurrent topic: insulting women. My mother speaks within me: but maybe he's not a lost cause. Maybe they are just dumb in a teenager way and will grow out of it and don't really mean it in a way.

The voice of my mother is the one of a scared girl who can't stomach to see the bigger picture of men's behaviour, of a girl who just want to coexist with them freely; but i have the moral duty not to inherit that.

hes even worse than i thought. maybe he is the one we should stay away from.

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

Biting- Geralt x Vampire!Reader

Description: Your friend Geralt helps to quench more than just your thirst for blood

Word count: 1,673

A snarl sounded deep from your throat, and hissed passed your fanged teeth as Geralt tried to approach you once again.

“I just want to help you, y/n.” He explained gruffly, as he sat back down on the rough ground of the dark cave with a huff.

“A Witcher wanting to help a monster. Seems to go totally against what you are.” You smirk over to your friend, a joke you often make at his expense.

It was rare, if not totally unheard of, for a Witcher to befriend a monster, and yet that’s exactly what happened with yourself and Geralt.

He’d one day been tasked to hunt and kill you, but after finding out that you had only attacked that town because of the vile men that lived within it, he decided to spare you.

Most of your kind feasted on easy prey, innocent people who can’t defend themselves. You decided long ago to use your need for blood to help defend those innocent people, only going after those who deserve it.

“You know with how old you are and how long we’ve been friends, you think you would have thought of a better joke.” He chuckles deeply at you.

“And I would have thought with how old you are, you would have grasped the concept of ‘no’ by now.” You snap back at your friend.

Your head rested against the cave wall as you closed your eyes, trying hard not to focus on the sound of Geralts heartbeat, or his intoxicating smell. It had been too long since you had fed and you were starting to notice. Geralt had offered to let you drink from him, but you couldn’t hurt him.

Geralt had spent the last hour trying to convince you to drink from him, whereas you had spent that time convincing yourself that it was his blood you craved and not the way his skin would feel against your body. Geralt was a friend and you couldn’t cross that boundary with him, no matter how badly you craved to.

You must have been focusing a lot harder then you thought, because the next minute you felt Geralts hand on yours. As your eyes flung open, they glared into the witchers eyes.

The deep red of your eyes and the dangerous look you wore would normally scare anyone, but not Geralt. In fact if anything, it made him more bold. His hand left the top of yours as it made its way slowly up your arm, to gently cup around your neck.

It felt as though you were paralysed, locked in place by his intoxicating scent. Your rational and animalistic mind fighting a battle of wills as his head bent down to whisper in your ear.

“I can smell that it is more than just my blood that you crave.” Geralt whispered seductively in your ear, his other hand now rubbing up and down your inner thigh.

Your self control was bending but not broken, that was until he began to press hot and deep kisses onto your sensitive neck. With feel of his intoxicating kisses on your sensitive skin, and his scent so close, your control fully snapped and you became ravenous.

Grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, you pushed him against wall, landing aggressively in his lap as you now straddle his large thighs. With a hand in his hair, you pull his head back to expose his strong neck.

Geralt knew that in your hungry and desperate state that you’d be stronger than him, and honestly he seemed to like it.

“Is this what you wanted, Witcher? Wanted me to lose my composure? To hurt you?” You growled closely in his ear, accentuating your point by tugging at his hair harder and beginning to grind into his lap.

“Yes.” He sighed out, a cheeky smile both in his voice and on his face.

“Are you sure?” You ask seductively, but also as a way to really check this is what he wanted, as you sharp fangs began to lightly trace his neck.

“Mhmmm, I trust you, y/n.” He confirmed breathlessly.

Trying to prove his point or maybe just to get you to hurry up, he put one hand on your ass, to guide your grinding. Whereas the other carded through your hair, pushing your face closer to his neck.

Chuckling into his neck at his obvious excitement and mutual arousal, you began to lightly lick and kiss his neck, wanting to tease him for as long as you could.

With both of your heightened senses, you could both smell just how desperate the two of you were. The strong scent of his arousal and the delicious blood pumping through his body was driving you half mad, but you could hold off just a little longer if it meant teasing the Witcher.

“Y/N, stop teas-“ Geralt was promptly cut off as your fangs bit into his neck.

The feeling of your hot bodies pressed together and the delicious blood finally reaching your mouth, made a fire erupt all through out your body. Once that first drop touched your tongue it was all over.

Your whole arm wrapped around Geralts head, pushing it into your breasts as you began to hump and grind against his growing impressive bulge. You were like a woman possessed, pushing yourself further against him, not being able to get close enough to his body for your liking.

Finally breaking away from his neck, you let out a desperate moan as you began licking and pecking at his wound. You were fed but it still wasn’t enough.

Grabbing him by his white hair once again, you push his head back and away from your breast. Now looking at his face, you see it set in a dazed and dopey smile, hooded eyes looking into yours.

“So tell me, Witcher. Did you just want me to drink your blood or did you want to help me with my other cause of desperation too.” You whispered hotly against his lips, teasing him with an almost kiss.

“Well that’s what friends are for.” He smirks at you.

His once and usual manly stoic look was now wiped away, and instead a lust drunk smile of a boy takes its place. Geralt would not give up control to anyone, but in this cave and with you, it felt like there was no better way.

Smirking and looking into his eyes, you hungrily capture his lips in a searing kiss. The kiss was hungry and desperate, his hands digging into your ass as you begin to unbutton his trousers to release his hard and desperate cock.

Freeing his cock and pulling away to stand up, leaves him grunting in protest.

“So you don’t want me to ride your cock then?” You taunt him as smirk cheekily, beginning to undress yourself.

Geralt quickly began to behave as he watched your little show you began to put on him for him. Each item of clothing revealing more skin that Geralt desperately wanted to lick, kiss and touch.

“Yeh that’s what I thought.” You wink as you straddle his lap once again.

Taking his impressive cock in your hand, you stroke him a few times before lining yourself up with him.

Geralts head is pushed against and the cave wall and his eyes are closed, enjoying every ounce of pleasure that you’re giving him.

“Look at me, Geralt. I want to see your face as I sink down onto your cock.” You gently order, shifting your hips to tease his sensitive head.

Peeling away from the wall, his eyes look both desperately and hungrily into your own. Both begging you to use him and asserting his dominance all at once.

“Good boy.” You cheekily coo as you begin to sink down onto his cock.

You both seem to moan in unison as you hold each others gaze, both of you being filled with immediate pleasure and relief. It takes a moment to get used to his size, but once you are and you’ve properly bottom out, you begin to move immediately.

Grinding into him quickly turns into bouncing, causing Geralts hands to fly to your breasts. He groans as he takes one in his mouth and his other grabs at your ass.

You continue to bounce and use his cock for your own pleasure, drawing moans from both of you. Geralt feels blessed to be used in such a way by such a beautiful woman. His mind filled with nothing but how tight your pussy feels and how good your tits feel in his hand and mouth.

The cave is filled with both of your mixed moans and grunts. The sound of skin slapping onto skin getting louder and louder and you bounce faster and faster.

Pulling Geralt away from your breasts by his hair, you place his hands on your hips. His strong fingers dig into the flesh of your hips as your breasts bounce deliciously in his face, leaving him staring at your form, hypnotised by your beauty and power.

“Fuck! Geralt! You feel so good! Such a good fucking boy.” You praise as your fingers come down to play with your clit.

Geralt can’t help the way his moans become almost animalistic, as your pussy clenches around his cock. Grunts and groans leave his beautiful parted lips and echo around the cave as you both reach your end.

“Fuck, Geralt, I’m so close!”

“Me too. Fuck! Cum with me, sweetheart.” He grunts out in response.

You were wound so tight and from just those words alone, you couldn’t hold on much longer. The tension in you snapped as you came with a loud roaring moan, your head flying back.

Geralt took a tighter hold of your hips as he thrust into you powerfully, finishing only seconds after you.

Panting deeply with sweat covering both of you, you push your forehead against his as you both catch your breath.

“Maybe I should come to you when I’m thirsty more often.”

[edenmemes]

asoiaf: clash of kings starters

❝ people often claim to hunger for truth,   but seldom like the taste when it's served up. ❞ ❝ the brightest flame casts the darkest shadow. ❞ ❝ lawless men are everywhere in this dark time. men with cold steel and colder hearts. ❞ ❝ there's no shame in fear, my father told me, what matters is how we face it. ❞ ❝ he who hurries through life hurries to his grave. ❞ ❝ if half an onion is black with rot, it is a rotten onion. a man is good or he is evil. ❞ ❝ some men are like swords, made for fighting. hang them up and they go to rust. ❞ ❝ sometimes i feel as though you are the best friend i have and sometimes i feel you are my worst enemy. ❞ ❝ i want to weep. i want to be comforted. i’m so tired of being strong. ❞ ❝ crowns do strange things to the heads beneath them. ❞ ❝ i see a deep sadness written upon your face. could it be the sadness of a lost dream? ❞ ❝ this is not you, not your way. you were always just, always hard yet never cruel. ❞ ❝ if you would take a man’s life, you owe it to him to look him in the face and hear his last words. ❞ ❝ how i have yearned for the sound of your sweet voice. ❞ ❝ i do not like being lied to. leave me out of your next deception. ❞ ❝ i will hurt you for this. i don't know how yet, but give me time. a day will come when you think yourself safe and happy, and suddenly your joy will turn to ashes in your mouth, and you'll know the debt is paid. ❞ ❝ there are no men like me. there’s only me. ❞ ❝ i will not claim to bear you any great love, no, but i cannot hate you either. ❞ ❝ the only way to keep your people loyal is to make certain they fear you more than they do the enemy. ❞ ❝ there is a sweet innocence about you. ❞ ❝ mercy. that’s a bloody trap. too much and they call you weak, too little and you’re monstrous. ❞ ❝ it is better to be seen as cruel than foolish. ❞ ❝ i’ve waited for you, oh, so many times. now you must wait for me. ❞ ❝ no one has ever died of restlessness, but rashness is another matter. ❞ ❝ i’m not a child, to be soothed with empty promises. ❞ ❝ only blood can wash out blood. ❞ ❝ don’t ever touch me, or i’ll kill you. ❞ ❝ we have leagues to go, and dangers to face. you will need your strength. ❞ ❝ i cannot sleep at night for thinking of your beauty. ❞ ❝ so many vows...they make you swear and swear. defend the king. obey the king. keep his secrets. do his bidding. your life for his. but obey your father. love your sister. protect the innocent. defend the weak. obey the laws. it’s too much. no matter what you do, you’re forsaking one vow or the other. ❞ ❝ somehow i have a feeling i am not going to like what you’re about to say. ❞ ❝ kings have no friends. only subjects and enemies. ❞ ❝ you must be still, you are grievously hurt. you will do yourself great injury. ❞ ❝ your heart is noble, but learn a lesson here. we cannot set the world to rights. ❞ ❝ i mean to be a king, and not of a broken kingdom. ❞ ❝ when i make threats, you’ll know it. ❞ ❝ do you want me dead? is that it? the truth now. ❞ ❝ this time i have to find my own way, and it is hard. so hard. ❞ ❝ i am afraid, but i must be brave. ❞ ❝ it grieves me that it must come to this. ❞ ❝ the kingdom bleeds, and no one lifts a sword to defend it. ❞ ❝ we shall see who is laughing when all of this is done. ❞ ❝ the unseen enemy is always the most fearsome. ❞ ❝ would you like one? you’ve never tasted anything so sweet, i promise you.❞ ❝ i knew a man once who told me i smiled at the wrong things. ❞ ❝ i would be glad to leave this city, if truth be told. ❞ ❝ there is an empty place within me where my heart was once. ❞ ❝ men like that...too honest to live, too noble to shit. ❞ ❝ if truth be told, i’ve never liked you. ❞ ❝ song and laughter have become suspicious strangers to me. ❞ ❝ only a fool humbles himself when the world is so full of men eager to do that job for him. ❞ ❝ the storms come and go, the waves crash overhead, the big fish eat the little fish, and i keep on paddling. ❞ ❝ mountains rise and fall, rivers change their courses, stars fall from the sky, and great cities sink beneath the sea. even gods die, we think. everything changes. ❞ ❝ i will not be mocked to my face, do you hear me? i will not! ❞ ❝ most sellswords would betray anyone for enough gold. ❞ ❝ tell me that none of this troubles you...and i’ll name you a liar. ❞ ❝ was there ever a war where only one side bled? ❞ ❝ great wrongs have been done you, but the past is dust. the future may yet be won. ❞ ❝ i am growing strangely fond of you.   i may kill you yet, but i think i’d feel sad about it. ❞ ❝ ofttimes a very small man can cast a very large shadow. ❞ ❝ courage and folly are cousins, or so i’ve heard. ❞ ❝ a curious way of fighting. it looks suspiciously like hiding. ❞ ❝ whatever enemy waits out here will not find us so easy to deal with. ❞ ❝ love is poison. a sweet poison, yes, but it will kill you all the same. ❞ ❝ schemes are like fruit, they require a certain ripening. ❞ ❝ i can smell the fear on you. ❞ ❝ when the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives. ❞ ❝ no royal is ever late. those who arrive before them have come early, that’s all. ❞ ❝ power resides where men believe it resides. no more and no less. ❞ ❝ you would not force me to reveal all my little secrets, would you? ❞ ❝ sorcery is the sauce fools spoon over failure to hide the flavor of their own incompetence. ❞ ❝ there are ghosts everywhere. we carry them with us wherever we go. ❞ ❝ you stop feeling, you stop thinking, you stop being you, there is only the fight, the foe, this man and then the next and the next and the next. ❞ ❝ terrible times breed terrible things. ❞ ❝ i do not beg. of anyone. mind you remember that. ❞ ❝ betray me, and you’ll wish you hadn’t. ❞ ❝ i do not require your understanding. only your service. ❞ ❝ would that bones could talk. this fellow could tell us much. how he died. ❞ ❝ the wide world is full of people wanting help. would that some could find the courage to help themselves. ❞ ❝ a frightened man is a beaten man. ❞ ❝ the ones who look the most suspicious are likely innocent. it's the ones who look innocent i need to beware. ❞ ❝ it is peaceful here, but for how long? ❞ ❝ the man who kills his own blood is cursed forever in the sights of gods and men. ❞ ❝ a sweet dream. now put it aside, i beg you. it can never be. ❞ ❝ you’re as bad an omen as any raven. ❞ ❝ this is no game, so don’t play the child with me. ❞ ❝ my life is a poor thing, but it is yours. ❞ ❝ they will not love me, you say? when have they ever loved me? how can i lose something i have never owned? ❞ ❝ they're all afraid of me. no one will hurt you again, or i'd kill them. ❞ ❝ i had begun to fear for you. did you meet with trouble? ❞ ❝ i grow ever more admiring of you. ❞ ❝ i’d sooner hold a wine goblet than a battle-axe. ❞ ❝ a lord never lets sentiment get in the way of ambition. ❞ ❝ if you have something to say, say it. ❞ ❝ how can i do my duty if i do not know where it lies?❞ ❝ don’t look at me, not...not like this...not you. ❞ ❝ i’ve broken laws, but i’ve never felt evil until tonight. ❞ ❝ are you here to serve me? or to vex me with arguments? ❞ ❝ men do not love me. they follow me because they fear me. ❞ ❝ why would people run off and leave their homes and everything? what could scare them so much? ❞ ❝ fear cuts deeper than swords. ❞ ❝ let us not get into the habit of names. names are dangerous. ❞ ❝ i do not relish being played for a fool. ❞ ❝ you have said nothing that requires forgiveness. ❞ ❝ perhaps you are wiser than i knew. ❞ ❝ a good act does not wash out the bad, nor a bad act the good. each should have its own reward. ❞ ❝ you set us a battle we cannot hope to win. ❞ ❝ learn to use your ears more and your mouth less. ❞ ❝ sleep a bit. when you wake, all this will seem a bad dream. ❞ ❝ why should men fight and die for you? ❞ ❝ fuck your questions. you’ll choke on them before you get any answers from me. ❞ ❝ i am certain of nothing in this fickle and treacherous world. ❞ ❝ a good lord comforts and protects the weak and helpless. ❞ ❝ is a secret still a secret if everyone knows it? ❞ ❝ look around you. they’re all liars here...and every one better than you. ❞ ❝ i have a role to play, and you must do the same. ❞ ❝ sadly, no victory is without cost. ❞ ❝ this is evil, unthinkable...please, listen to me. ❞ ❝ is that what troubles you, that some fool call you cowardly? ❞ ❝ you must forgive me if i have spoken to you harshly in the past. ❞ ❝ a sweet offer...yet sweets can be poisoned. ❞ ❝ how beautiful you look tonight. ❞ ❝ the day is won, and yet you do not smile. the living should smile, for the dead cannot. ❞ ❝ the time for talk is done. now we see who is stronger. ❞ ❝ i am no stranger to nightmares. ❞ ❝ so much villainy; it sings a sad song for our age. did honour die with our fathers? ❞ ❝ some men are born to be killed. ❞ ❝ come if you like, but if you can’t keep up, don’t think that i’ll nurse you along. ❞ ❝ i will kill him. i swear it. i swear it. ❞ ❝ this is madness, but sooner madness than defeat. defeat is death and shame. ❞ ❝ does it give you joy to scare people? ❞ ❝ when i require your counsel i shall ask for it. ❞ ❝ will you put away your blade? ❞ ❝ need an escort? the talk is, the streets are dangerous. ❞ ❝ it is ill to keep a lady waiting. ❞ ❝ kneeling won’t save you now. stand up. ❞ ❝ you’re very pleased with yourself, aren’t you? why? ❞ ❝ do you think i wish to be here? ❞ ❝ don’t you know how i have cared for you, lived for you, loved you despite all? ❞ ❝ see, there is nothing to fear. ❞ ❝ you have a cheerful way of grieving. ❞ ❝ a dream, that’s all it was. it meant nothing. ❞ ❝ a dog doesn’t need courage to chase off rats. ❞ ❝ the gods give with one hand and take with the other. ❞ ❝ only a man like you would be proud of such an act. ❞ ❝ i cannot answer for the gods. ❞ ❝ it’s swords i need, not blessings. ❞ ❝ you look very lovely today. ❞ ❝ they said you were dead. ❞ ❝ all sorts of people are calling themselves kings these days. ❞ ❝ you need me, whether you care to admit it or no. ❞ ❝ be quiet and kiss me. ❞

[idkyetxoxo]

Seven | Allure | The Last Kingdom

"He just loves burning things," 

"He would love hell." 

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───☆⋅☾⋅☆───

Standing beside Finan and a now recovered Osferth, we awaited Uhtred's arrival. "Sihtric has left with the prisoners," Finan revealed once again, and Uhtred nodded in acknowledgement. I couldn't shake the feeling that this for some reason didn't surprise him, he accepted it too easily.

His gaze flickered to me. "I am sorry, I know how you felt about Dagfinn," Uhtred offered, his voice tinged with remorse. I simply shrugged, masking the turmoil churning within.

Internally, I felt a profound sense of betrayal. Sihtric had once been among those who defended me from Dagfinn, yet now, his decision to join their side felt like a knife to the chest.

"I know how to break the curse, but reaching Skade is a near-impossible task," Uhtred continued, his words laden with the weight of uncertainty. I sucked in a sharp breath.

"Sihtric's departure has unsettled the men, they blame you," Finan disclosed, his expression grave as his voice quieted towards the end of his statement. "Some may not want to go looking for her again, rightfully so," I said, acknowledging the legitimacy of their concerns.

"What about Ragnar?" I asked quietly, pulling Uhtred aside as the others granted us a moment of privacy. His gaze met mine, a solemn understanding passing between us as we delved into the depths of our shared sorrow.

"A blade must be wet with Ragnar's blood, and with that blade, the man who killed him must be killed," he revealed, his voice tinged with a somber resolve. A flicker of relief washed over me, knowing that Ragnar's restless spirit would find solace in the halls of Valhalla.

"That way Ragnar will be free to enter Valhalla," Uhtred continued, his words carrying the weight of our collective grief. "We will use my blood," I offered, determination coursing through my veins. Yet, his suggestion caught me off guard.

"Yours or Thyra's," he proposed. "I will do it. It's the least I can do after the pain I caused him," I demanded, my voice heavy with regret and longing.

Uhtred's hand found the back of my neck, drawing me close until our foreheads touched. "We will do it together, the man who took Ragnar from us will pay," he vowed, his words a solemn pledge of justice and retribution.

As Uhtred departed to confer with Aethelflaed, a sense of purpose enveloped him, his resolve unwavering in the face of adversity. With a speech prepared, he rallied his men, his words resonating with the clarity of purpose and determination. In that moment, the fractured bonds of loyalty were restored, united in their pursuit of vengeance and redemption.

──☆⋅☾⋅☆──

Uhtred, Finan, Osferth, and I rode into a village nestled deep within Daneland's heart. Approached by Guthlac, the thegn of the village, we requested nothing more than food, shelter, and a tankard of ale. His reluctance to host us was evident, especially when he insisted we surrender our weapons with our horses, an offer we vehemently refused.

Our tenure in the alehouse proved short-lived. I reclined, kicking my feet up on the table and tilting my head back as Uhtred delineated our predicament. Guthlac's allegiance to the Danes meant imminent danger. He warned of impending attacks and offered an ultimatum, yield, and our men would be spared. I couldn't help but emit a dry laugh at the sheer audacity of Guthlac's proposal.

As Uhtred ascended the stairs, crashing through the roof, he commanded Osferth to pass him the torches. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Finan remarked, "He just loves burning things," while Osferth quipped, "He would love hell" as they set about obeying his demands. 

The conversation caught me off guard, and I sputtered on my ale, laughter erupting from within as I struggled to regain my composure.

Amidst the distraction outside, we slipped away. Guthlac's pleas for mercy fell on deaf ears as Uhtred shook his head. 

"Allow me the honor," I offered, a sardonic smile curling my lips. Stepping forward, I deftly spun my dagger in the air before plunging it into Guthlac's chest, a sense of satisfaction flooding through me. With a reminder to the villagers of their allegiance to the Lady of Mercia, we departed, leaving behind a village changed by our visit.

The four of us concealed ourselves in the nearby woods as the Danes descended upon the village. 

"Sihtric," Osferth spoke up, his voice tinged with uncertainty and I turned around only to face him, his expression betraying a weighty revelation. "You have something to say to me, boy?" Uhtred's tone was solemn, his gaze piercing through the shadows.

"I do," Sihtric declared, drawing his sword and pointing it towards Uhtred. "Yield to me," he commanded, his words hanging heavy in the air. I scoffed, instinctively reaching for my dagger in response.

Uhtred raised his hands, dropping his weapon to the ground. My brow furrowed in confusion as Sihtric smirked, lowering his sword before enveloping Uhtred in a hearty embrace. Laughter echoed through the woods, mingling with the tension that lingered among us.

"You were playing us. My goodness, they were playing us. Why?" Osferth's voice quivered with disbelief, his confusion mirroring my own. I shook my head in disbelief, returning my dagger to its sheath.

Uhtred's laughter broke through the tension. "If you had not believed it, Osferth, neither would others," he explained, amusement dancing in his eyes. "I fooled you," Sihtric chimed in, a jubilant grin lighting up his features.

"No, I knew," Finan interjected, his resolve unwavering. "No, you did not. Was I good?" Sihtric teased, prompting laughter.

"I'm telling you, I knew" Finan persisted. Sihtric's gaze met mine, his expression shifting. I met his gaze briefly before turning away, retracing my steps towards the others. 

Despite the ruse, his words had struck a chord of truth. A reminder of his ill intended feelings towards me. The release of Dagfinn remained a reality, its repercussions lingering, collateral or not the damage was done.

The echo of his footsteps trailing behind me was impossible to ignore. Seated beneath the sheltering canopy of a tree, I griped my blood-stained dagger tightly, my knuckles turning white with the force of my anger, I refused to meet his gaze as his figure loomed over me.

"I just..." he started, his voice faltering before he let the words die on his lips.

"It's all right," I interjected, my tone devoid of emotion. "You managed to fool us, well done." The words tasted bitter on my tongue, a sharp acknowledgment of his deceit.

I watched as he sighed, a heavy weight of resignation settling over him. I could sense his guilt and remorse. However, the damage had been done. With a flick of my wrist, I cleaned my dagger on the grass, the rhythmic motion a contrast to the chaos raging within my soul.

"Don't worry," I added, my tone clipped, yet resolute, "I still meant what I said. You're still the real problem to me, at least." I held his gaze.

Looking back up at him, I didn't miss the subtle shift in his expression. His face contorted momentarily, betraying a mix of emotions, from remorse to stoicism. His hand wandered to his jaw, a nervous habit that spoke volumes.

He opened his mouth as if to speak, but the words seemed to catch in his throat. Instead, he turned away and returned to the group.

Sihtric conveyed the news that Bloodhair had met his death, leaving only Haesten at the camp's helm. Skade, the bearer of Bloodhair's fate, knew of Uhtred's promise to shadow walk, yet the camp bristled with guards, rendering the task perilous. 

However, a sliver of opportunity emerged. Skade was granted the liberty to gather grass and herbs near a solitary tree on the far side of the camp.

Uhtred, seizing the moment, instructed Sihtric to convey his proximity to Skade and to bring her by the designated tree.

Guided by Sihtric, Skade joined us beneath the sheltering boughs of the tree, and the six of us stealthily retreated as Haestan's forces stirred in response to our presence. Sihtric deftly led us to the dock, where we launched a calculated assault on the guards.

In the heat of the skirmish, one of the guards lunged for Skade. Despite harboring a fervent desire for her demise, I knew Uhtred would not sanction such an act. In that crucial moment, my instincts kicked in, propelling me into action to shield her from harm's way.

The clash of metal rang out as the Dane's attention swiftly shifted towards me, his axe whistling through the air with deadly precision. Reacting with lightning reflexes, I countered the impending strike, the steel of my dagger finding its mark in his leg. But victory came at a cost, his blade grazed my ribs, tearing through fabric and flesh alike, a searing pain erupting through my body like wildfire. 

Blood blossomed across my garments, staining them crimson but I pressed on, unleashing a forceful kick that sent the Dane hurtling into the murky waters below, a splash marking his descent into defeat.

With resolve, I set foot upon the ship, the wooden deck beneath my feet a sanctuary. As the sails unfurled, carrying us away from the scene of conflict, I cast a defiant gaze towards Haestan, his frustration etched upon his face like ancient runes. 

With a smirk, I couldn't resist the urge to mock him, punctuating with a kiss blown in his direction and a small wave.

───☆⋅☾⋅☆───

love a bit of miscommunication x

[soartfullydone]

"rebel moon is just a bunch of disjointed character intros with no substance---"

[loud fart noise in your face]

Anyway, what connects all of the characters together is Honor, a major theme of the movie. It's the reason that These People In Particular are all chosen, beyond their reputations or even their skill sets (which are still important).

What does your personal honor look like? How do you uphold it? What do you do when you lose your honor? Can you ever truly regain it once it's lost? Can you find redemption, or is revenge the closest thing you can get? Can revenge and honor ever be the same?

After her indoctrination and service in the Imperium, Kora deserts, but it's for her survival, not the recovery of her honor. That's the journey she's currently on in the defense of her new home and the people there, triggered by the conflict of choosing her personal safety or rescuing Sam from further assault. She found the line of her honor and refused to ignore it any longer.

Gunnar placed personal gain over maintaining a united front about the grain surplus. His dishonorable actions lead to Sindri getting killed and their village placed under the Imperium's thumb. Noble's culpability aside, Gunnar feels responsible for his role in all this and seeks to make amends. It's why he's the only one who jumps in to protect the child from potential collateral damage in Nemesis' fight with Harmada. He is transitioning from being a selfish character to being more selfless, defining what he wants his personal honor to be.

Speaking of Nemesis, she is the most samurai-coded character here, complete with their version of honor. Her failure at being able to protect her children drives her to defend others, and shoulder the burden of killing once a peaceful resolution cannot be reached. It's why she has an entire conversation with Harmada, to understand what drives her, to attempt to find common ground and shared empathy. It's why she fights first with naked steel, to try to convince Harmada to back off, to value her own life, and it's for the lives of others that she finally ignites her blades when she cannot. Nemesis is not an emotionless cyborg who assassinates in cold blood, but one who is deeply attuned to her pain and that of others.

Tarak is a prince, and yet we learn he's nowhere near his home or his people. Whether he's failed them or abandoned them (or feels like he has) is still a mystery, but we still know that he is an honorable man, regarding his servitude to Hickman with utter seriousness. Tarak will honor his word and any agreements once given, including a life debt, and his connection with nature both demonstrates and resonates his nobility. He even has the whole "honor them" speech to Millius, revealing that he knows the guilt of surviving when all the friends you swore to fight beside are now gone.

General Titus fought proudly for the Imperium until his honor wouldn't allow him to stomach their methods. The price for that included his men's lives, his station, and his dignity. Unable to protect any of it including his ideals, he turns to drink and hopes fighting as a gladiator to the death does the rest. And yet, he cannot bring himself to just lay down and die. He dwells on his mistakes but does not succumb to them. The kernel of honor was still within him, and it's no wonder Kora and the other idealists at her back were able to ignite it again.

Jimmy is from an order of robotic knights, who all laid down their arms in dishonor and disgrace when the Imperium's royal family was murdered. He embodies old and forgotten chivalry, and in case you missed that, they got Anthony Hopkins to voice him. These knights haven't fought back since, even when they are attacked---and yet Jimmy retaliates to protect Sam before himself, finding something honorable to fight for again.

Darrian Bloodaxe has his honor as a rebellion leader tested and rightly concludes that the revolution is meaningless if they will not come to the aid of the most defenseless among them. (But he and his men die anyway!) Indeed, that is the point. Hedging your bets and picking your battles might be the smartest option, but it's not the most noble or honorable. Honor, in case you haven't noticed, often demands a choice and a price.

And yes, even our villains share in this theme in their own twisted ways. Kai is a mirror to Gunnar, but where Gunnar is growing into being a less opportunistic person, Kai is deliberately shrouding his true intentions from the get-go. At Kai's betrayal, Kora demands after his honor, to which Kai dryly replies, "What did happen to it." It isn't a question. Kai long ago saw honor as a death sentence and chose survival over everything, and in an ironic twist, is killed once he tries to tempt Gunnar into choosing his own survival over Kora's. Like Kora before him, Gunnar finds his line that he will not cross as well as what he fights for.

Finally, there's Atticus Noble, who wields the honorable memory of the Slain King and his dishonorable death as a blunt weapon against all that isn't the Imperium, much like his cane. The one time the Imperium was gracious, and they were betrayed for it. Never again, and everyone will suffer for this humiliation until the Imperium's honor is restored---and it never will be. Because honor is not the point; conquest and control is. Revenge is the point.

Literally all of this is in the film btw. But then, I wasn't fast-forwarding or looking down at my phone the whole time or playing Paint By Numbers: Star Wars Edition. I was actually watching the goddamn movie and letting it tell me its story. And then I reflected on it afterward. Whooooaaa!

[rainydawgradioblog]

Top Ten Songs that my Roommates Hate:

If I’m good at anything it's being obnoxious. Here’s ten songs that I love, but drive my roommates up the wall.  Ranked from their most to least tolerable.

10.  “Bangs”- They Might be Giants

Starting off very tame, “Bangs” has the signature TMBG geeky sound and whiny vocals. The song conjures imagery of pocket protectors and protractors. With lyrics like "royal flyness" and talk of concordant angles, “Bangs” is likely a big hit in the math department. Hey at least they've got taste.

9.  “Billy Don't Be a Hero”- Bo Donaldson and the Heywoods

What's better than mass manufactured 70s bubblegum pop hit about the Civil War? A cover of the Paper Lace ‘classic’, “Billy Don't Be a Hero” tells a story of a soldier killed in combat, in the most catchy, kitschy way possible. It’s a very addictive song, so please listen responsibly.

8.  “Xanadu”- Rush

“Xanadu” by Rush is not to be confused with the 1980 Olivia Newton John film of the same name, though both are pretty polarizing. The only critique I can offer is that at only 11 minutes, “Xanadu” is entirely too short. Who wouldn't want to " To stand within the pleasure dome, decreed by Kubla Khan” with Geddy Lee. Sounds pretty cool if you ask me.

7. “Motorcycle Mama”- Harpo

Everyone knows that a truly great musician is defined by their references to other, better musicians. Unlike the other songs on this list ( with the exception of Gaucho) this is a bad song, but it's a blast. Harpo’s so caught up in trying to string Ravi Shankar and Fritz the Cat together that he entirely forgets to pay any attention to the rest of the song.

6.  “Be True to Your School”- The Beach Boys

Clearly, my roommates are lacking some serious school spirit. Just wait until some loud braggart tries to put them down. They won't know what hit them.

5. “Your Auntie Grizelda”- The Monkees

I'm a big fan of the Monkees, but even I have to admit that “Your Auntie Grizelda" is an annoying song. There is a definite reason Peter Tork wasn't placed on vocals, but I think there's a certain charm to having a singer who can't really sing.

4. “Schlock Rod Pt. 2”- Jan and Dean

“Schlock Rod Pt. 2” is nothing if not unique, it's an obnoxious conversation between two men, complete with constant voice cracks. Set to a tune consisting of clanging metal and sputtering car engines, it's satire, and I’ll defend it till the end. Think this one is annoying? Check out part one.

3. “Gaucho”- Steely Dan

I apologize in advance to all the Dan Fans out there, but damn this song sucks. Listening to “Gaucho” is like being transported to your grandpa’s pontoon in the 80s, and when a song mentions ponchos more than once, there’s a fundamental issue lyrically.

2. “Sally MacLennane”- The Pogues

The best way to listen to any Pogues song is at an ear-splitting volume, though the people I live with might disagree. If you have too many friends, this will either take care of it (especially if you listen at strange hours of the morning) or you’ll meet the best people you’ll ever know. Rest in peace, Shane MacGowan, you are a legend and a genius.

1. “Strap on That Jammy Pac”- Ween

Recorded on a four-track cassette while both Dean and Gene Ween were supposedly huffing Scotchgard (they probably weren’t) and had mono (they probably did); “Strap on That Jammy Pac” is the first track off of The Pod, which is easily one of the best albums of all time. Shout out to Ween for this much needed addition to blues-country history.

-Parks

[horizonthetransient]

On Lightning Bolts And Science Fiction/Fantasy

Or, “Chainmail won’t protect you from a thunderstorm, but it will protect you from a Sith.”

So, in real life, there are these things called Tesla Coils. They’re these big electric machines that shoot off little bolts of high-voltage, low-current lightning. These days, everything practical they can do can be done better by something else, so they’re pretty much solely decorative, but damn if they aren’t still good at that. One thing that you might like to see are some dudes dancing with Tesla Coils while wearing chainmail suits. Go on, click the link. I’ll wait for you.

As you can see in the video, electricity follows the path of least resistance. Metal has way less electrical resistance than human flesh, and so if electricity can flow through metal instead of flesh, it will. These men, who are wearing chainmail suits, are pretty much impossible to hurt with tesla coils, because instead of the electricity going through their nerves and organs, it’ll always go through the far-more-conductive metal instead.

Now, if you’re anything like me, you may be thinking “hey, shouldn’t this mean that my D&D character who wears a suit of metal armor should be more defended against lightning, not less?” And I think you’re right! But alas, if you actually voice this opinion, you will likely be met with a common counterargument:

“A lightning bolt has like a zillion megawatts of power! Even with metal armor, it’d deafen you, blind you, and probably burn you by overheating your metal armor!”

And... to me, this is like arguing that kevlar can’t stop bullets, because high-explosive artillery can put six foot craters in the ground. Part of what you’ve said is true, but you’re grossly mischaracterizing the sort of weapons people can use in small-scale fights without killing everyone in the room, themselves included, based purely on sensationalist trivia.

Now, yes, a real lightning bolt from a thunderstorm won’t really care about what personal defenses you have, but that same lightning bolt will also seriously injure anyone within five paces, including the spellcaster who shot it from their fingertips. Considering that Sith and Wizards don’t typically go deaf immediately after shooting lightning at people, I feel safe in concluding that they’re not using that kind of power.

I think it’s also worth talking about what power means in the context of electricity, because as it turns out this is a formally defined term that is quite relevant to the question of “how bad will this kill you?” In electrical terms, power (measured in watts) is the product of voltage and current (measured in amps). And as any electrician can tell you, it’s the amps that kill you. Voltage, meanwhile, is what determines how wide of an air gap the lightning can cross; considering how unconductive thin air is, you need a lot of voltage if you want to shoot lightning at people from any distance whatsoever, and that means you need more power, unless you cut down on the amps.

Fortunately, you totally can cut down on the amps and still have a viable weapon! It only takes six or seven milliamps through the heart to kill someone, and a tenth of an amp if you don’t feel like having super precise aiming. And in all honesty, this maps to lightning attacks in most speculative fiction pretty well- where it always hurts like a bitch, but isn’t always horrendously lethal.

However, that kind of low current is bad news for the “chainmail would just cook you in your armor!” gang, because resistive heating, the phenomenon that makes electricity heat things up, only cares about resistance and current. High voltage isn’t going to do jack shit for resistive heating, and steel wire of the thickness you’d want for making chainmail is plenty capable of handling a measly tenth of an amp. It’s typically about as thick as the wires in your walls, and those can safely handle fifteen or twenty amps before they start to get uncomfortably warm. Sure, that’s copper and chainmail is steel, but chainmail is also a lot of steel, and the fact that there’s literal thousands of rings in a chainmail suit does in fact significantly increase the amount of current that can safely be handled.

So, in conclusion? Unless your fantasy lightning wand produces lightning so powerful that it should seriously injure the user (in which case nobody would want to use it), conductive metal armor 100% would protect the wearer from lightning attacks. This isn’t to say that lightning weapons should logically be useless in speculative fiction- there are plenty of contexts in which people would not be wearing metal armor, where lightning remains a perfectly serviceable way of killing people horrifically. But this is to say that I’m sick of people acting like wearing metal armor is useless at best and suicidal at worst when the other guy has a lightning spell. Knock that shit off.

[ourtearsofrain]

Chapter 4- Even Heaven's Hearken

Pairings: Jake Kiszka x Reader

Genre: angst

Word Count: little over 2.2 k

Warnings: sword fight with Sammy (no one gets severely hurt)

--------------------------------------------------------

The outcome of your fight with Samuel left Joshua and Jacob in a state of absolute shock, their mouths opening and closing as they tried and failed to find any response. Samuel gets up, scowling at you as he walks towards your group. As he brushes himself off, his face turns beet red from the embarrassment of being bested by you.

Joshua raises his sword, pointing the tip of his blade straight at your throat as he takes a step forward.

“Who the fuck are you?”

Thankfully, Jacob and Danny are quick to jump in, defending you as they place themselves between you and Joshua, raising their hands in an attempt to de-escalate the situation.

“Joshua, they won. They’ve proved they will be useful on our crew.” Jacob starts.

“Let me ask you, brother, how much do you really know about them, hm? What a coincidence that you meet just before Lady Helena attacks the town we had planned on visiting to restock our provisions. How do you know they aren’t one of hers, sent to infiltrate us?”

He looks in between the men at you, his stare burning straight into yours as he waits.

“So, I’ll ask you again, who the fuck are you? How do you know how to fight like that?”

“I was a server in The Black Smoke, nothing more, I swear. I only know how to fight because my father taught me when I was young, in case I ever needed to protect myself.”

Joshua says nothing, only slightly raising one eyebrow as if expecting you to say something more to sway his mind.

“I swear to it that I am not with Lady Helena. I have more reasons to hate her than just her destroying my town.”

Your voice breaks as you continue, wanting to put enough of your true emotion into your explanation to sway him into trusting you, but not so much that he saw you as weak.

“She killed my father in front of me. I was 17. She took him from me, and I was left with nothing, forcing me to take that serving job to get by.”

“How do we know you’re telling the truth?” Samuel butts in for the first time, mostly forgetting his previous embarrassment as he becomes enthralled by your words.

“I swear on my father’s grave.”

Joshua gives you one last hard look before sighing, sheathing his sword as he offers his hand out to you.

“Welcome to our crew, Polaris. Don’t think I automatically trust you, though. You will always stay within one of our lines of sight, do you understand?”

You nod as you take his hand, matching his firm grip. “I understand.”

“Good.” He turns towards the rest of the group before beginning to walk towards the door as he speaks. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I am in dire need of some food and a very large amount of liquor.”

He opens the door, gesturing for the group to file out of the building and towards the town where both food and alcohol would surely be found in plenty.

You allow the other three men to go ahead of you, following them as they make their way down the unused path single file. As you pass Joshua in the doorway, he reaches out, grabbing your bicep and stopping you in your tracks to turn and face him.

His expression is still serious and stern, but you swear you can see the smallest bit of a soft kindness lurking behind his eyes.

“Helena killed our father too. Jacob and I were 16, and Samuel- he was barely 13. Our mother went mad with grief, leaving Jacob and I to raise him and Daniel while maintaining the empire my father, and his father before him, had built. We understand the hatred you must feel for her, if you are telling the truth that is. We can work together to bring her down, this I believe.” He takes a step towards you, fierce anger replacing any kindness you had seen as he sneers. “However, if you are lying about any part of what you just told us, I will not hesitate to kill you. And unlike Samuel, I will not offer a quick and painless death.”

“Understood.” Is all you say before he lets go of you, following his brothers as you stand in silence alone.

You take a deep breath, collecting yourself before jogging to catch up with the rest of the group. You follow silently as they lead you into the town, each man receiving some form of greeting from the other pirates populating the streets as you walk.

Eventually, you follow them into a large pub, much like The Black Smoke had been. As soon as the bartender spots your group, a wide grin graces her features.

“Well look what the tide brought in! Long time no see, boys. I was beginning to think you finally died.” she laughs.

Joshua matches her smile as the men at the bar across from her exit their seats, knowing they would have been asked to give them up for the great Kiszkas.

“Not yet, although I bet you would be relieved at that, wouldn’t you, Rosanna.”

“Ah, give me more credit. I would shed at least one tear at the news.”

She finally notices you as you take the last seat next to Danny, and she offers you a small smile as you quietly take your seat.

“You bring me some fresh meat, boys? Didn’t know you were actively recruiting.”

Sam speaks up, still bitter over the outcome of your fight. “Yeah, neither did we. Maybe you could take them off our hands, they served at a bar apparently.”

“Well, I am always looking for new staff but wouldn’t want to poach you from their crew, kid.” Her genuine smile eases some of your anxieties as it was one of the few you had received since meeting Jacob and his brothers.

You return her smile. “Thanks, but I’ve spent enough time serving in bars to last a lifetime.”

 Her laugh is bright and warm. “I hear you, kid!”

She turns her attention back to the boys. “The usual, I assume?”

Met with four various comments of confirmation, she begins readying their drinks easily, having memorized each man’s order.

“And for you?”

“Oh, uh water is fine.”

“You don’t drink? Would’ve thought, working in a bar and all.”

“No, it’s not that. Believe me, an empty stomach and alcohol do not mix well for me.” You laugh out as you remember the last time you had drank after not eating all day, all but the part of the night where you violently threw up in an alleyway gone from your memory.

“Oh you poor thing, I bet they haven’t fed you, have they?” She scowls at them. “Your hospitality really has gone to shit, even for pirates.”

“In their defense,” You chime in, hoping to score some good points with Joshua and Samuel, “They were going to restock in my town but… then Lady Helena attacked.”

Rosanna’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Well then, I’d say you’re lucky to be alive.”

She grabs a small platter, reaching under the bar table and placing a small piece of bread and cheese on it before setting it on the table in front of you.

“It’s not much but, hope that helps, kid.”

You begin to shake your head. “No, no, I don’t have any money to pay you with. I’m alright, really.”

“It’s on the house. Please, eat.”

You stare at her for a second, her expression unwavering kindness as she waits for you to take it. You finally give in, your stomach screaming at the thought of eating. As you set in on the food she offered, she begins placing glasses on a larger platter before rounding the corner of the bar.

“Alright well, like I said, I’m understaffed so I have to go make a few rounds. Take anything you want from the bar, it was nice catching up with you all. We’ll have to talk later, Samuel, it’s been far too long.” She ends with a wink in Samuel’s direction before beginning to weave through the crowd, placing drinks on tables as she went.

“Samuel, how much longer are you going to keep her waiting?” Jacob laughs.

You see Danny stiffen next to you, his jaw clenching as he looks down at his drink.

“What? I told you guys, Rosie and I are just friends.”

“Yeah, does “Rosie” know that?” Joshua asks playfully.

Samuel rolls his eyes as he takes a drink. “Be quiet.”

Having finished the food Rosanna had given you, you once again sit quietly as you listen to their conversation.

“Oh, come on, Samuel. We’re just trying to help you. You haven’t been with someone in far too long, puts our pirate name to shame.” Joshua quips back.

Danny drains his drink beside you, looking over to see you had also finished.

“Wanna get out of here? I know you’ve had a long day and I’m not in the mood for any more drinks right now.”

You nod, “Only if you’d like to leave.”

He turns towards the others. “I’m going to show Polaris their way to the house. We’ll see you there when you’ve had enough to drink.”

Samuels eyes narrow at you as Danny stands. “Make sure to keep an eye on them.”

Danny brushes him off as you stand. “I know, I know.”

Without another word, he begins walking towards the door as you trail behind him. He starts down the main road, quickly taking a right onto a small, dark path towards a medium-sized building that sat separate from the others.

“So,” you start, “You and Samuel?”

This grabs his attention, his head whipping to look at you as his step falters.

“What about us?”

You shrug, “Nothing. I just saw you tense up when they were talking about him and Rosanna and was wondering how long you two have been together. And why Joshua and Jacob don’t know.”

“It’s not like that.”

When he doesn’t say any more, you pry further, wanting to get the details. “It is for you, is it not?”

He lets out a deep sigh, shaking his head as he walks. “Sammy, Samuel and I have known each other for most of our lives, and sure, we have messed around a few times but it’s always nothing to him. Spending months at sea, he can get… lonely sometimes. I mean it’s not like we’re courting each other or anything.”

“You could though.”

“No, I couldn’t.” Is all he quietly says before changing the conversation topic.

“So, how much do you know about Lady Helena?”

“Not much.” It’s a lie. You know it but luckily, Danny doesn’t see through you.

“Her father used to be an ally of the Kiszkas. He would join our crew every once and a while, always leaving sooner or later to go back to his family. When she was old enough, she would join him sometimes. One day, she came onto our ship, using the trust we had for her and her teary story of her father’s death as an excuse. She told a tall tale of a new bloodthirsty pirate lord attacking them, and what really sold it was the gash running from above her left eyebrow down her nose and across her right cheek. Said he did that to her before she barely escaped with her life. Captain Kellen took her to his study to plan revenge, to set a course to track down the pirate that did it.”

You both reach the door of the building, and his story pauses as he opens the door. He turns toward you with tears brimming in his eyes.

“Kellen… he didn’t come back out. But she did, soaked in blood with this insane look in her eye. She declared herself the Captain of our ship. We tried to fight her but, Samuel and I were so young and… and Joshua and Jacob were distracted by their grief. Jacob almost got her, but she had a pistol hidden in the folds of her skirts, that’s when she shot him. We’ve been trying to get our revenge since then but her power, her influence over the seas has only grown.”

You follow Daniel as he begins lighting dusty lanterns around the room.

“I’m- I’m so sorry, Danny.”

He tries for a smile. “It’s not your fault. We will get our revenge one day. And thankfully for us, her father never brought her here, so she doesn’t know the exact location of our home. I will say, she has been trying very hard for the past few years and has come close a few times but, never close enough.”

You say nothing as he leads you into a room holding six beds, all of them perfectly made and visibly unused for quite some time.

"Anyway, this is where we sleep when we make port here. We all grew up here so the beds are sort of assigned, but you can use that one.” he says, pointing to one of the six beds tucked into a corner.

“Thank you. Your kindness has been much appreciated.”

“Of course, Polaris. You’re one of us now.”

--------------------------------------------------------

A/N: the title, of course, is taken from the lyrics to The Indigo Streak

[viceroywrites]

reunions and opportunities - chapter seven

gary x fem!reader

both of you didn't get the ideal high school experience it would make sense that you both would be dreading the reunion.

little did you know how many doors would open after that.

ao3 version here - chapters on tumblr are slightly rewritten and restructured.

content warning: fic contains smut in later chapters. discussions of mental health including trauma and potential ptsd (aka gary is traumatized).

chapter seven

Being a henchman since the age of 15, you would think Gary would become accustomed to death. Sure, losing his best friend and partner in crime was a tough blow and changed who he was physically and emotionally but he’s seen so many henchmen he’s worked with and fought against be killed right before his eyes.

Despite committing to a life of villainy in order to help his boss-turned-friend, there was still a softness within Gary. Growing up reading comics and following the stories of heroes, Gary wanted to do good and protect those around him -  except his actual attempts to turn to the “good side” failed. Turns out, he can still do those things but more efficiently just within the confines of his henchman role. 

Since adopting the alter ego of Kano, it felt harder and harder to feel that he was doing any type of good. Gary’s nightmares felt like they became more and more vivid as he continued to add more dead bodies to what felt like a never ending list.

Tonight brought yet another nightmare.

Images of Wandering Spider pleading for his life, his body disintegrating as he clung to Gary’s legs to keep him from running away from the sight. Another body being flung to his feet by a shadowy figure that wears the Blue Morpho suit, the new victim’s face obscured by a cloth over their head. “Here’s your next victim, Kano. Remember, dead men can’t snitch!” The voice cackled menacingly, the sound of the Monarch’s voice clear in his head. Thin fingers pulled back the cloth, revealing your face.

“No, no, no!”

Gary’s booming voice echoed through your tiny New York apartment walls, waking you from your slumber. Startled from the sudden noise, you hastily rub the sleep out of your eyes, your instincts preparing you to defend yourself. However, your vision adjusts to see Gary trembling next to you, shaking his head back and forth, his forehead drenched in a cold sweat.

“Gary!” Your voice snaps him out of his torment, placing a hand on his back as he jolts up right from his position in bed. You sit silently yet patiently, your presence causing his muscles to relax as his heavy breaths fill in the silence.

Once his erratic breathing pattern calms down, you push the blankets off your body, adjusting to wrap your arms as much as you can around Gary’s bulky frame. “It was just a dream, you’re okay.” You feel his large hand rest atop of yours as he gives you a sympathetic look. 

“Crap, I’m sorry I woke you up! You have-” Gary’s words are hastily silenced as you place a finger against his lips, giving him a reassuring smile and shaking your head. “Dr. Mrs. gave me the morning off, said she would fill me in on the meeting later.” 

Gary relaxed at your reassurance and gave you a tired smile, “Sorry again.” You let out a soft yawn, stretching your arms above your head before wrapping them around your burly beau’s shoulders. “You wanna talk about it?” You query, an eyebrow raised with curiosity as to what could have Gary screaming and waking up in a cold sweat.

The henchman shook his head, pulling you closer to him and adjusting your positions so you sat between his thighs, squeezing you tightly from behind. “Mm, how about we just enjoy our day off together?” Gary rasped, his voice still deep and groggy as his five o clock shadow tickled the nape of your neck as he snuggled into your warmth, hoping to distract you with his affection.

Despite your lingering suspicion, you let the issue drop, already exhausted from last night’s revelations and being enticed by Gary’s promise of a day free of drama and full of spending quality time with your adorable dorky boyfriend. 

“Alright, let me get some caffeine in my system because I still have a ton of questions for you. I only got your origin story last night.” You remark with a grin, kicking off the covers and hopping out of bed. The brown-haired man breathed out a sigh of relief, almost hearing the disembodied voice of his best friend admonish him, “Dude, pull yourself together!”

—

“I still can’t believe that at age fifteen, you became a henchman.” You shake your head in disbelief before taking a sip of your coffee, just having finished breakfast and curled up on your couch with Gary’s burly arm around your waist. 

“I still can’t believe you prefer TNG over TOS,” Gary snorts before receiving a swift elbow to the ribs. 

“I won’t argue that no one can hold a candle to Leonard Nimoy and the Corbomite Maneuver is still my favorite episode but I much prefer Patrick Stewart as Picard and I can’t get over how campy the visuals look nowadays.” You defend.

“Hey, those visual effects were revolutionary at the time! Besides, I would argue Doctor Who’s visual effects aged much worse in comparison!” Gary let out a playful chuckle as his response was met with a decorative pillow to his face.

“Anyways, we’re getting off topic. So all you’ve done since then is be a henchman?” You question, wanting to know more about your new boyfriend’s life as a henchman. You only truly dipped your toes into the Guild as of the last few months working with Dr. Mrs. the Monarch.

“Well, there was a time where the Monarch was in jail and him and Dr. Mrs. broke up.” Gary chuckled at your surprised expression, “Oh yeah, it was bad - pretty much the whole Monarch crew went to work for Monstroso so I moved back in with my mom, did some podcasting and worked for the Atomic Comic Collection Connection.” He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck, a bit embarrassed. 

“I’m assuming you rejoined after they got back together?” You questioned, not at all phased by the news he just shared. Gary continued on, “Well yeah but I ended up leaving again. It’s kind of a long story so I’m sure you don’t want to hear me keep rambling.” He chuckled nervously, reluctant to share the reason why he left the second time around.

“Well, we have all day… I know it sounds like I’m grilling you but I’m genuinely just curious. This Guild stuff is still kind of new to me since working for Wide Wale was a bit of a cushy job to say the least.” You reassure him, squeezing his hand.

“Alright…” Gary sighed, running a hand through his face, unable to say no to your eyes beaming up at him. “I guess I should start with telling you about 24… my best friend.” 

You listened intently, squeezing Gary's hand as you noticed his voice get shaky at the mention of 24. You had heard bits and pieces from Dr. Mrs. about how the Monarch used to have more henchmen but dwindled in numbers down to just 21 over the years. The more and more Gary opened up to you, the more you understood why he kept his henchman lifestyle a secret from you. It was ultimately to protect you from the same fate. 

“Basically, I was grieving the loss of my best friend, talking to his skull and hearing his voice like all the time and I had a bit of an infatuation with Dr. Mrs…” Your eyebrow quirked up at this new piece of information which Gary got nervous seeing your expression. 

You could see him starting to stammer to explain which you chuckled at and shrugged your shoulders, “Gary, it’s fine. I mean it’s in the past. Plus I’m not blind, Gary. She’s smoking hot… despite the unfortunate voice that starts to grow on you. Anyways, continue.”

“Pretty much, I needed a break from the Monarchs and the life of villainy.” Gary explained, “So I went to the other side so to speak. I worked for SPHINX for a bit before it got dismantled, lived on the Venture Compound for a few months, and even teamed up with Brock Samson.” 

The henchman glanced back over to you and saw your eyes look up at him in awe, his cheeks flushing at the words that came out of your mouth next, “You’re so cool, Gary.” 

He shook his head vigorously, “Oh no, I’m still just a nerd… just more jacked than I was before.” You pout at his denial and sighed, “I have to admit, I’m a bit jealous that you got to experience all these things. It sounds like you pretty much lived out a comic book fantasy.”

Gary’s head tilted as he looked down at you, pressing a reassuring kiss on your cheek, “I mean you pretty much are living the same life I am, working for the Guild and all. You’re even more in the know than I am.”

You shrugged, placing your coffee mug down and propping your feet up on the coffee table. “I guess, I’m just grateful I took this job under Sheila or else I’d still be a glorified babysitter for Sirena. I worked with Wide Wale for so long that he basically treated me like a second daughter and would have locked me away in Tophet Towers if he could.”

Curiosity got the better of Gary as he asked, “I’m still baffled by how you went from dating one of Wide Wale’s henchmen to me. I mean not to judge but I don’t think I have a lot in common with a New Jersey fuckboy.” 

You let out a snort of laughter at the comparison and shook your head, “Honestly, you don’t have anything in common and that’s honestly a good thing.” 

“I was a nerd pretty much all throughout high school. I blended into the background. So college was a huge change for me and I tried really hard to put myself out there more. Went through a social “glow-up” you could call it.” You chuckle before continuing your story, “I started going to more parties and we met there. Honestly, I wasn’t used to the attention I was getting so I guess it just felt nice even though it was just for my looks for the most part.” You explained before feeling Gary’s arms wrap around you tighter.

“Well, you’re perfect to me - a perfect beauty center with a coating made out of perfect smart candy.” You rolled your eyes at his compliment, a smile curling across your lips.

“You’ve totally used that line before, haven’t you?” 

“Yup.”

—

The rest of the day went without a hitch - you took Gary to your favorite comic book store in the city, you had lunch together, and you both headed back to the Monarch’s residence together as you had a meeting with Dr. Mrs. to discuss Guild business.

As you both entered the vestibule holding hands, the Monarch came out from his study, glancing back and forth between the two of you before a shit-eating grin spread across his face.

“Sweetie! Come down, our favorite henchman duo are here!” The Monarch chimes which causes Gary to groan.

“Oh my god, you guys are worse than my mom!” 

Dr. Mrs the Monarch descends down the staircase and it was a pleasant surprise to see her grinning with pride down at you and 21. You’re so used to seeing her stoic or aggravated during Guild Meetings with some light heartedness in between.

“Well, looks like you two had a good talk last night.” Sheila remarked with a smirk, joining her husband’s side as he joined in on the teasing, “You sure they just talked last night, pookums? Because 21 is beaming like he just got girly action.”

“Oh!” “My!” “God!”

Sheila’s deep laughter fills the room as you both look flustered, “Alright, I have to take your girlfriend away for a bit to catch up on today’s meeting, 21. Don’t miss her too much.” She beckons you to follow her into the kitchen.

You squeeze Gary’s hand one final time before following behind Dr. Mrs., leaving Gary and the Monarch alone.

“Alright, lover boy. We have our own catching up to do.” The Monarch remarked with a grin which filled Gary’s body back up with dread.

—

“So our next target is Red Death… but as you know, our main focus is getting rid of Wide Wale so I’m free to arch Venture once I raise my stupid EMA level.” The Monarch explained, having Gary’s self-created Blue Morpho’s Pyramid of Peril pulled up on his laptop.

“Which is why your new found relationship with [Your Name] could be of use to us, 21.” Gary’s eyebrows raised as your name is mentioned, crossing his arms over his chest.

“What are you talking about? There’s no way I can tell her about the Blue Morpho stuff, she literally works with your wife!” The Monarch sighs, shaking his head as he grabs 21’s shoulders.

“I’m not that stupid, 21! I want you to get dirt from her about Wide Wale - literally anything - schedules, bargaining tools, the works!” Gary shook his head, brushing the Monarch’s hand off his shoulder.

“No, no. It’s already bad enough she’s way more connected to this all than I had ever wanted but I’m not using her for reconnaissance! It’s already shitty enough that I have to keep this” Gary gestures to the Blue Morpho hideout before continuing, “a secret from her but I’m not dragging her into this any further! Besides, she’s already suspicious of me after I hid the henchman stuff from her.”

The Monarch’s length eyebrow raises as Gary stands firm in his decision. The Monarch’s philosophy before was that henchmen were a dime a dozen - expendable and their feelings didn’t matter as long as the Monarch got what he wanted. With 21 being his one and only right hand man, he couldn’t have that same philosophy.

There was also a part of him that was reluctant to admit that he sympathized with having to lie to his own wife about the Blue Morpho ordeal. 

“Alright fine… but this makes your job tomorrow ten times harder, 21.” The Monarch sighed, looking down at his henchman, “So don’t say I didn’t warn you. I need you to go to Tophet Towers tomorrow. Alone. Scope out the building, get a lay of the land, and place surveillance cameras so we can monitor Wide Wale.”

Gary let out a sigh of exasperation, “Alright, alright! I’ll do it!  The sooner we get this crap over with, the sooner I can actually enjoy the fact that I finally got  a girlfriend!” 

The Monarch grinned, “Good catch, by the way, 21. Looks like my charm has rubbed off on you.”

Gary groaned before glaring playfully up at the Monarch, “I can’t believe you said girly action in front of her.” 

The Monarch smirked, winking at him, “Would you have preferred I said you finally caked her in your sticky triumph?”

“I hate you so much.”

[sparxwrites]

for @thequackcity, who gave me several options for what i could write. i, of course, chose the stupidest option, because there is nothing i love better than tntduo being morons. <3 want a lil fic like this one? you can get one here!

Quackity and Wilbur are arguing. Again.

Sam’s been watching them go at it for a while, now. Not for any particular reason. Just because he’s already in Las Nevadas – Quackity was supposed to be showing him something, or explaining something to him, or some other flimsy excuse for please come over I have no friends and I’m lonely – and god only knows there’s nothing else to do in this ghost town than people-watch. If he’s got to kill time until Quackity’s done dealing with his problem neighbour, he may as well keep himself entertained.

It doesn’t really start as an argument. More of a heated discussion, with a little bit of flirting thrown in for good measure. Sam’s too far away to hear what they’re saying, but it’s obvious from the angling of Quackity’s body, the stance of Wilbur’s feet. Not that that’s unusual with those two. Sam’s not sure they know how not to flirt with one another. 

If he were a different person, he might find that funny. As it is, he considers it a mild irritation, and a general impediment to getting anything done. Like sort-of business meetings, for example.

But, as the discussion continues, it heats up further. The pair move closer, and closer, getting up in each other’s space. The body language grows more aggressive, the gestures bigger and more impatient. Voices raise, until he can almost hear what they’re saying, despite being the better part of a chunk away.

When Wilbur gesticulates wildly with his coffee cup, though, making a motion as though to throw it, Sam decides he needs to get involved.

He’s over to them in seconds, trident in hand, the head of it poised to push between the pair of them if necessary. He doesn’t want to take a life from anyone, but if he needs to in order to defend Quackity – the closest thing he has left to a friend on this godforsaken server – then he won’t hesitate. “Wilbur,” he growls, voice low, eyes intense. “Back. Off.”

Both men fall abruptly silent.

“Uh, Sam? Could you, you know. Give us a bit of space, please?” says Quackity, remarkably politely, a strained note to his voice. He’s very close to Wilbur. Nose to nose, almost. Within kissing range, as some people who are definitely not Sam would describe it. “We’re trying to have sex over here.”

“…You are?” asks Sam, bewildered, entirely wrong-footed.

“We are?” echoes Wilbur. Sam takes some comfort from the fact that he sounds equally bewildered. Not much comfort. But some.

“Um, yes?” Quackity leans back a little, raises an eyebrow, makes a vague gesture that half-translates to duh. “We very clearly are. This is very clearly foreplay, Wilbur.”

“Oh.” Wilbur takes a moment to digest that particular piece of information. “Well. If you’d told me that, I’d have put my coffee down.”

“No, no, you should keep the coffee on,” says Quackity, nonsensically, stumbling over the words in his eagerness. His eyes are alight with sudden excitement – like he hadn’t expected to get this far. He leans in again, putting himself back in kissing range. “It’s hot. I like it.”

Sam’s fairly sure neither of them have ever had sex before. Definitely not with each other, but also with anyone else. Ever.

“…Well,” he says, after a long and phenomenally awkward silence in which Wilbur and Quackity stare deeply into each other’s eyes at close range. “I’ll, uh. I’ll just go, then. We can reschedule the meeting, Quackity, I guess.” And then, because stupidity is apparently contagious, “Enjoy having sex.”

Quackity grins, his eyes still locked on Wilbur’s. “Oh,” he purrs. “We will.”

Sam leaves, before they can start making out in front of him. They might be making out behind him, honestly, but he’s wise enough not to turn back and look. Instead, he takes himself home, resolutely looking forward the whole way back – at least until he’s sat in his chair beside the fire, cape hung up by the door, trident on the mantlepiece, a glass of whiskey in his hand.

Then, and only then, does he allow himself to close his eyes in abject despair.

[flyingflosser09]

Cursed / Armando Salazar x OC / Chapter 25

Whereas I’m beaming from ear to ear, the pirate crew beholds the Silent Mary sailing toward us in terror. Even Barbosa has gone numb, even if just for a second.

He spins around and says to Carina, “Whatever happens, stay your course. And you,” he looks at me, “keep the wind in our sails or I kill the boy.” He draws his sword and jumps down the helm to defend the ship.

The moment he’s not looking, I’m trying to free my hands from the ropes. Even if there were a hundred pirates on this ship, they wouldn’t be able to stop the Spanish crew from coming onboard and killing who they please. I have to keep Henry safe and the only way I can do that, is if we find the island Carina’s star points at.

Somehow, I know it’s close. I didn’t want to admit it to Barbosa, but there is a certain pull in this part of the ocean. I feel connected to it and the further we sail, the less effort it takes to control the wind. Almost as if my power has intensified.

One of my hands is almost free when the Mary sails up to the Pearl, so close, I can see the crew on deck. My heart nearly explodes when I see Armando at the wheel, face evident with unbridled rage.

The entire ship shakes when the Mary sails into it, breaking off parts of the main deck’s banisters. Like one man, the Spanish crew jump aboard in terrifying grace. However, I swear I felt the earth move when Armando’s feet hit the deck along with the heavy thud of his rapier.

“Where is she?” The tone in his voice inspires fear, and even I shiver at the dread behind it.

He doesn’t need to ask twice. One of the foolish pirate duo, the red-headed one, only points a finger towards the helm and Armando’s head jerks toward me. The moment our eyes meet, a part of his rage melts away, making me weak in the knees. But then he notices the ropes confining me to the mast and that darkness is back.

“Kill them,” he says, “Kill them all!”

“Defend yourselves, men! Till the death!” Barbosa roars and wields his sword in the air.

Like one man, pirates and cursed soldiers attack each other left and right. Through the chaos, Armando is making his way toward me, climbing the steps to the helm, and passing Carina without ever taking his eyes off me.

Once we’re face to face, he cuts through the ropes, and I waste no time to throw myself at him, latching onto him with all the strength I have in me.

“You came for me,” I breath against his neck, relishing the feeling of his arm around my waist and how his fingers tangle in my hair.

“How could I not?” he pulls back to look at my face. “Did any of them hurt you?”

“No, no, I’m fine.”

“Good. Get to the Mary, I’ll join you soon.” I nod without thinking and watch him descend the stairs to join the fight, no doubt to search for Jack among the chaos.

Knowing he can’t get hurt or die, I hurry towards the banister and grab the nearest rope…and freeze.

I can’t leave without Henry and Carina.

My eyes search the deck for Henry frantically but can’t find him anywhere. And Carina…she’s still at the wheel, following a constellation of stars towards a dark horizon. To the naked eye, there is nothing. But I feel the pull within me. Something is calling me, and I think I know what it is.

“Is has to be is,” Carina looks at her map, fear evident in her voice, “It has to be here.”

“Find that land!” Barbosa calls from the main deck.

“We’re nearly there! It’s here somewhere…”

Realizing she’s got the map but not the magnetic pull I’m feeling, I decide what I must do.

Dropping the rope, I join her at the wheel and extend my hands outward, “Tell me where to go.”

She tears her eyes off the horizon for a split second to look at me, and we come to a silent understanding: she navigates, and I steer.

“Follow that star,” she says and points at the brightest star in the sky, “The island should be at its end.”

This time, with both the wind and sea under my command, the ship races ahead.

The silent Mary keeps up well enough and swerves toward the Pearl. Turning my head, I spot Magda behind the wheel, battling the stormy waters. He looks over for a split second…only to look again when he sees me at the Pearl’s helm. I imagine what this looks like to him; me helping the pirates.

However, before I can call an explanation over the raging battle, the Pearl takes a harsh blow from the side. I’m thrown off balance and collide with the deck elbows first. The wood tears through my sleeves and scrapes my skin painfully, and a sticky liquid makes the shirt cling to my arms.

Nothing the ocean can’t heal but dammit, that hurt!

Using the railing to pull myself up, I search for the origin of that collision…and stills. My jaw slacks and my eyes grow at the sight of the wooden figurehead of the Mary clambering between the two ships, her spear raised and aimed at a frantic Jack Sparrow.

“Live figureheads,” I mutter, stunned beyond wits, “Of course.”

It isn’t just the wooden statue of the Mary that’s out for Jack’s blood. My eye catches Armando hunting him between the two ships, jumping from cannon to cannon with blind ambition.

On the deck of the Pearl, the pirates are at the receiving end of the fight. The ghostly officers are too fast, too nimble with their immortality and ability to move through objects. Even if they managed to get stabbed or shot, it wouldn’t do any good. In fact, it only made them attack the pirates more violently than before.

The foolish duo finds themselves trapped against the ramparts as the bigger one calls to Carina, “Have you found what you were looking for yet, miss?”

“I’m trying!” exclaims Carina and looks up at the stars in panic, “The stars will soon be gone.”

I search the darkness for any signs of land but see nothing, only the mist building up as the storm around us thickens. Our time is up.

But I won’t give up that easily.

Leaving Carina at the wheel, I jump from the helm and enter the battle zone of fighting pirates and officers. Swords clash and shots fire around me, and I feel some missing me by mere breaths.

At last, I’ve reached the mainmast and grab hold of the rigging, hauling myself up. However, for a split second, I’m frozen. The last time I attempted a stunt like this, I fell to a gruesome death.

“Don’t let me die tonight,” I whisper into the wind, knowing the ocean will hear me.

Then I begin the climb. Up and up and up against the storm, past the shrouds, at last reaching the first fore yard - two left to go before reaching the top.

I focus on my footing only as I grab onto the higher rigging. I hold on for all that’s dear as a gust of wind tosses me to the side, feeling the rope burn into my palms.

Finally, I’ve reached the topsail yard and my destination: the crow’s nest. First securing myself in it, I hold onto the railing to face the stormy waters ahead.

“I can do this,” I tell myself and begin gathering my strength, “I can do this…”

Letting go of the wooden rail, my hands fall to my sides as I focus every fibre of energy, every ounce of desperation, and every fraction of my soul into the vast, raging ocean. However, once I’ve found a tether, I don’t stop. Instead, I gather another one, and another, and another, until my hands and mind felt full, and I could not carry more.

And then, thrusting my arms and hands upward, unleash the full power of the seven seas and winds I hold.

The world comes to a slow stop as a behemoth wave rolls up behind the Mary and the Pearl, bigger than any wave I’ve ever seen or summoned, and stretches even higher than the crow’s nest I’m standing in. I grab hold of the rail, clutching to it with both arms and legs as the vessels catch in its mighty current before being thrown – yes, thrown – through the storm.

The battle below ceases as every being falls to the deck at the sheer intensity the ships hit the water, waterlines bobbing and nearly throwing me over the rail.

“Bloody…hell. Damn…” I cuss when I find myself hanging by only my waist, face to face with the long drop to the bottom.

At first, my legs are too numb to stand, but when I remember our course, I turn and gasp a breath of relief.

There it is.

Land.

The X the stars pointed to.

I’m so happy, I can cry. But not before realization delivers a brutal punch to my gut.

Land.

“Oh, sh—” my words are muffled by a stroke of lightning as I grab the nearest rope to swing down. Only one frantic thought circles my mind: I have to warn the officers before they disintegrate into dust. However, another glance at the island tells me I won’t reach the deck in time, it’s too close. My eyes search the people below for a familiar figure – Armando, Moss, anyone. And then I see him. “Santos! Santos!”

The officer in question hears my voice and searches the deck, probably thinking I’m in danger.

“For the love of… Santos, look up!” He looks up and spots me dangling by the rope, holding on to the rigging for dear life, “Get to the Mary! Land!” I point wildly at the fast-approaching island up ahead, “Land!”

The moment he follows to where I’m pointing, he understands. With a voice booming above the noise and storm, he warns the rest of the crew and orders them to retreat, “Get to the Mary!”

I continue my way down the mainmast as the officers rush for the cursed vessel, jumping over the rails and grabbing onto the Mary. At the helm, Magda is turning the wheel furiously to turn the ship around.

My heart sinks to my stomach – I’ll never make it in time. Unless I jump from the mast.

I twist the rope around my hand, ready to swing for it…when out of nowhere, Armando appears on the deck below.

“No…” Panic floods my head at the possibility of seeing him turn to dust. Why the hell isn’t he on the Mary?! Without thinking twice, I just about slide down the rope the rest of the way, biting down my cheeks as the twine cut through the skin of my hands, reducing it to nothing by raw flesh and burnt skin.

“Armando!” I call his name just as I reached the middle of the mainmast. His eyes follow my voice and finds me holding onto the mast. I open my mouth to warn him about the island, only for a sudden jolt to let me lose my grip on the rope.

And for the second time, I’m falling.

However, it’s not like first time where everything went black when I hit the deck. This time, I am fully awake and conscious when my back collides painfully with the wood. A cry escapes me when I hear a sickening crack before all pain below my neck, vanishes.

I realize I can’t move.

I can’t lift my arms, I can’t move my fingers, I can’t feel my legs…

Everything except my face is numb.

“Samira!” Armando’s voice tears through the ringing in my ears. From the corner of my teary eye, I see him advancing towards me, but it’s too late. The Pearl has sailed ashore and he staggers backward as one of the remaining officers on the pirate vessel dissolve before his eyes.

Go, I want to tell him, but can’t utter a word.

At least, he realizes the danger of dry land. Turning around, Armando hurries back to the Mary, but not before grabbing Henry and taking him with him.

“Henry!” Carina cries, but to no avail.

The Silent Mary has turned and is now sailing past the rocky shoreline towards the open water. Once again, I felt taken away from Armando.

[jasonspoems]

For anyone interested...this is a short synopsis of the Book of Mormon, another testament of Jesus Christ. It is an amazing history of the people upon this continent who saw Christ after His resurrection in Jerusalem.

The Book of Mormon

There is a book of scripture that talks to each of us

With profound prophecies that speak about our worthiness 

Lehi's dream was to guide us along the straight and narrow path

Young Nephi followed the whisperings of the Spirit while in his youth

Jacob said that if we prune, dung, and care for the tree

We can make it back safely to Thee

Though we may be a branch grafted onto that old trunk

Good fruit from us will the Master pluck

Enos, though he went out one day a-hunting

Received a remission of his sins by earnestly praying

After reading these pages, the Lamanites would gain a knowledge of Christ

Looking forward with renewed hope, by the Holy Ghost, they'd be so enticed

Long live King Benjamin

My goodness, what a man

His son, Mosiah, was a prophet and seer

Who had four sons that caused an angel to appear

These four men taught the Lamanites with such great power

Insomuch so, that the Holy Spirit their physical bodies did overpower

Two thousand sixty sons did take up their swords 

To defend their people from the wicked Lamanite hordes

Alma the Senior at first was a wicked high priest

Though upon hearing Abinadi speak, his wicked ways immediately ceased

Baptizing his people in the waters of Mormon

He started many people on the path towards salvation

Alma the Younger, was also a wicked and idolatrous person

For which, he suffered for three days and nights till his sins were forgiven 

Thereafter, his greatest desire was to have the voice of an angel 

Amulek and Zeezrom, were amongst those who heeded Alma's call 

Nephi and Lehi, though prisoners, stood within a circle of fire

They wanted all to know about God, this was their desire

The soldiers listened and became believers

They soon became God's spiritual ambassadors

Nephi kneeled upon his garden tower

While beneath him wicked Nephites did gather

He foresaw the workings of the secret band of Kishkumen

That they would bring about the end of this great nation

Samuel the Lamanite, upon the walls of Zarahemla did preach

That Christ would come down to earth and, us, He would teach

Thirty four years after His birth, He did appear 

To these, His other sheep, His voice did they hear

To become witnesses, His wounds did they feel

Throughout the land,  all people, these witnesses did tell

Salvation could be had if at Christ's feet they would kneel

Then their wounds would He carefully heal

Almost three hundred years would pass away in peace

Till Mormon saw that the people's faith did decrease

A commandment to make a compilation of sacred records 

And write about this nation's wickedness as it spiraled downwards

A final farewell to his people did Mormon give

Hoping that his son, Moroni, this war would outlive

Before everyone was killed there upon Cumora's green hill

All prophecies up till then were entirely fulfilled 

Moroni, a final challenge to all

Unto us has he issued this call

If we will but read and pray with real intent

Our lives will this book compliment

The Book of Mormon has special meaning to me 

But, its teachings are meant for all, you see

Of prophets, seers, and revelators who lived here so long ago 

The truth, by way of the Holy Ghost, upon us will he bestow

So it's quite simple for you and me 

If we but follow Moroni's steps to see

If this book testifies that Christ died upon that lonely tree

Then true followers of Christ will each of us be

Written by:

Jason Cheney 

September 12, 2022

[parkersdashboard]

Lethal Justice Chapter 11

warnings: Daredevil season 2 spoilers, angst, angry Frank

“Colonel Ray Schoonover, United States Marine Corps.”

“Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”

“I do.”  My heart pounded, either caused by the three cups of coffee I had drank a few hours prior or the fact that I felt like I was hearing something I shouldn’t. I had maneuvered myself into the very front pew of the public gallery, and now I definitely couldn’t miss a single moment of this trial.

“Colonel, how long have you known the defendant?”

“I'd say, the better part of a decade. Most of his career in the Marine Corps”

“So you're familiar with his service in the Middle East? Afghanistan, Pakistan, Iran?”

“Yes, very familiar.” Colonel Ray Schoonover seemed like an honest man, but I wasn’t about to make assumptions on just a few words.

“I wonder if you could tell us how Lieutenant Frank Castle won the Navy Cross?” I felt my heart in my throat, suddenly in on the big secret that Foggy was working on right in front of my eyes. This seemed like a media trick. Foggy is putting both sides of the story out, just like any good lawyer does, and ensuring that the public knows that Frank isn’t just some trigger-happy killer.

“Lieutenant Frank Castle was part of a small team. He was conducting a close target reconnaissance in the vicinity of the Hindu Kush. The mission became compromised, taking enemy contact on three sides. Lieutenant Castle wanted to abort. Said the mission was a bust, pulling the plug would save lives. Officer in charge said ‘no’”.

“And why was that?”

“Maybe he wanted more medals on his chest. Doesn't matter. Either way, Frank was right. They were cut off, boxed into a canyon… Within the first hour, the officer in charge of that mission got his arm blown off. So Lieutenant Castle assumed command. His only goal was to get his men out alive. The enemy had set up an ambush at the only LZ that would accommodate one of our birds.”

“Sorry, Colonel?”

“LZ is a landing zone that can accommodate a helicopter. So the enemy, they block this landing zone, knowing it was the only shot the team had to get out alive..All they had to do was wait.They knew that Frank's team had to come to them.”

“Fish in a barrel.”

“So to speak. Only fish don't know they're gonna die. These men did.Frank went to the LZ all by himself to draw the bastards away.” I had learned more about Frank during this trial than I ever had as his neighbor. Really says something about trust, doesn’t it?

“Why didn't he order one of his men to do it? He certainly could have…”

“Not his style. So the men hear the fire fight break out. All hell breaks loose. Frank against God knows how many,and then there was silence.The team thinks, ‘That's it, Frank's dead, and we're next’.Next sound they hear is the helos, the helicopters. They get to the landing zone, you know what they see? Frank Castle, standing there, grinning. Thirty-two muj surrounding him, all dead. Son of a gun cleared that entire LZ all by himself.” 

Oh, so he’s been crazy like this even before he was the Punisher? 

“How?”

“By being Frank Castle.”

“And his men survived?”

“All of 'em,Including the idiot officer that got 'em trapped in the first place.”

“If you had to sum up Frank Castle, how would you do it?” If I had a voice, I would describe him as crazy but very handsome. If only he didn’t have a criminal record, maybe we could have been something. 

“I would say Frank Castle is a man who would gladly give his life to keep others safe.”

“And the crimes he's accused of today? Could the man you knew have committed them?”

“Absolutely not. Lieutenant Frank Castle that I know is a hero. A man who deserves our respect and our gratitude. Not the same man.”

I wish I could convince myself it “the same man”, but I had witnessed Frank’s violent tendencies and knew it was still him. Maybe he was different during his time as a Marine, but now he was the Punisher, no matter how just his killing sprees were.

“I'd like to personally thank you for your service to this country, Colonel. My father served in Vietnam,” Reyes announced as if it was a justification for what she might say during her cross-examination.

“Do you know what he told me about medals?”

“No, ma'am” Somehow, Schnoover remained respectful. I know I wouldn’t if I were on the stand.

“He said the only people who truly know what happened are the ones that were there. You told a nice story, Colonel but how can we know that it happened the way you described?”

“Well, perhaps I wasn't clear...I was there, ma'am. That officer that didn't listen to Frank, got his men trapped you're looking at him. And believe me when I tell you, I thank God every day that I only lost my arm. That man saved my life, the lives of his entire team. If it was up to me, he'd have a Medal of Honor hanging around his neck.”

Holy shit. You tell her, Ray Schnoover.

“...The bullet penetrated Mr Castle's skull in the lower right quadrant, or more specifically, the sphenofrontal suture, which is the cranial suture between the sphenoid bone and the frontal bones, both here and here.” I had been zoning in and out for some of the trial, but I couldn’t pull my eyes away anymore. I sat in my seat, legs crossed as I took down notes, equally intrigued and shocked by the information I was hearing.

“I believe what my expert witness is trying to convey is that my client, Frank Castle, was shot point blank, execution style, in the head. Could you please describe the damage Mr. Castle sustained from the bullet?”

“It fragmented on impact, causing damage in both the right frontal lobe and temporal lobe of his brain.”

“What are the effects of such an injury?” Seeing Foggy in the courtroom was different then how I had experienced him in the past. It was a welcome change.

“Mr. Castle is suffering from what we call sympathetic storming. It's a heightened and ongoing state of fight or flight, in which the sympathetic nervous system is hyperactive. As if he is reliving the incident of trauma over and over again. It can plunge a seemingly peaceful individual into mental and emotional chaos.”

“Could you define it for the jury, please?”

“Extreme emotional disturbance. It's twofold.First, the defendant is so emotionally disturbed that he loses control. And second, the defendant has a reasonable explanation for said disturbance, from his point of view.”

“Are you aware that Frank Castle's wife, son, and daughter were all murdered right in front of him when he sustained the brain injury in question? An injury which, you say, keeps him in a perpetual state of mental and emotional chaos?” My heart sunk. I had never actually heard about Frank’s family. I just filled in the blanks that they were gone. I didn’t know it was that bad. I felt sick.

“I am, yes.”

A few days later, I was back in the court room, this time much more nervous and much more eager to get the day over. 

Frank’s testimony was scheduled for today.

I bounced my leg, as I quickly refreshed myself on my notes and desperately tried to conceal my fear.

“Uh, Your Honor, the Defense would like to call Frank Castle to the stand.” I held my breath as the bailiff brought Frank in, mostly out of anxiety, but also because he was wearing a suit.

Oh my god. He’s wearing a suit. 

The bailiff whispered something to him, and the butterflies in my stomach dissipated and replaced themselves with something much worse.

Something wasn’t right.

“Do you solemnly swear that you will tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”

“Yeah.”

“Please state your name for the record.”

“Frank Castle.”

“Mr. Castle, you've been charged with multiple capital crimes.Been called a killer incapable of empathy or remorse.” Not true. Frank is one of the most empathetic people I know. But no one realizes that.

“Hmm, yeah. So I hear.”

“Frank... May I call you Frank?” Frank looked him up and down, almost dumbfounded by the question.

“Yeah.”

“Frank, we've heard a lot about neuro-chemistry and psychology, and all things unfolding, scientifically and otherwise, inside your brain. But I just have one question I want to ask: What happened that day? The day your family was so tragically killed. It's okay, Frank. I understand, it's difficult. Do you understand?”

“'Cause I don't think you understand shit.”

“I'd like permission to treat the witness as hostile, Your Honor?” Oh dear.

“Granted.”

“All right, Frank. You don't want to tell us? I'll tell you. I'm gonna tell you exactly what kind of man you are. You're the kind of man this city needs. Because, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, we all know this city needs help. Needs it now. Not tomorrow, not next week, not when the day comes, when the corruption that Wilson Fisk left in his wake is flushed out for good, and the police force is finally back on its feet. We need it now. 'Cause this city's been sick. And the cops, they can't fix it alone, they need - We all need men and women who are willing to take the fight themselves. The kind of people who risk their lives so that we can walk safe at night in our own neighborhoods. The ones our esteemed District Attorney here is trying so hard to destroy. New York needs these people. We need heroes.” The room erupted with applause.

“Order.”

“The help they offer and the hope that they provide. Frank Castle wanted to help, but he took it too far. He shot people, he killed people. It's against the law. And he broke that law many, many times. Now, I don't like him any more than you do, but here's the thing, he's not a common criminal. He's not malicious in intent. Frank Castle is actually a good man. He just - He doesn't know the difference between right and wrong anymore. And he doesn't need punishment for that. He needs help. Our help. That's the kind of man Frank Castle is. And now, you have to decide what kind of jury you want to be. No further questions, Your Honor.”

“Your, uh Your Honor? Can I say something?” Frank spoke up. We made eye contact for what felt like forever. I had stopped taking notes a long time ago, my hands preoccupied by twisting the beads on my jewelry around and around.

“You may.”

“You know those, uh. Those people? The ones I put down, the people I killed? I want you to know that I'd do it all again. This is a circus, all right? It's a charade, it's an act. It's bullshit about how crazy I am.” His anger filled the courtroom, and it did nothing to help my anxiety.

“Language.”

“I ain't crazy! I'm not crazy. Okay? I know what I did.I know who I am. And I do not need your help. I'm smack-dab in the middle of my right goddamn mind, and any scumbag, any any lowlife, any maggot piece of shit that I put down, I did it because I liked it!” “Order!”

“Hell, I loved it! I'm sittin' here, I'm I'm just itching. I'm itching to do it again. And you think What, you think you're gonna send me to a nuthouse? Some doctor, they're gonna get me to stop from doing what I want to do? Well, that ain't happening! Not on my watch! You people, you call me the Punisher, ain't that right? The big bad Punisher.” I sucked in a breath. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t him. 

“Bailiff.”

“Well, here I am!” Frank shouted.

”Remove the witness.”

“You want it, you got it! I am the Punisher! I'm right here! You want it, I'll give it to you. And anybody who came here today to hear me whine, to hear me beg? Well, you can kiss my ass! Do you hear me? I'm guilty. Come on, please, Judge! I'm guilty, you hear me? I'm guilty! I'm guilty! I'll kill every one of 'em! I'll kill every single one!” The bailiff dragged him out as he screamed.

Tears pricked my eyes. He was sentenced promptly, as he confessed to his crimes, and court was dismissed. I made my way to the nearest bathroom, and was pleasantly surprised to see it was empty. I shut myself away into one of the stalls. My throat hurt from holding in my sobs, which quickly spilled from my eyes now that I was behind closed doors. My heart pounded, and I could hardly even catch my breath.

I loved Frank like oxygen. I had long ago come to terms that it wouldn’t work, but now, with the reality suddenly in front of me, I crumbled. Nothing could distract me from the waves of emotions coursing through my body.

I heard the door of the bathroom swing open, and heels click on the white tiles. I covered my mouth to mask my humiliating sobs and quickly attempted to compose myself. I pulled my sleeve over the palm of my hand and dabbed my tears away, all while listening for a stall door to close. Once I heard the click of the latch, I made my way out and made a desperate attempt to fix my makeup and left, keeping my head down.

This short chapter of my life had come to a close.

[writerfarzanatutul]

Muslim Story- (Romance Spiritual Thriller)

A gentle shake on her shoulder woke her from her slumber. Hasna groaned, still halfway between sleep and wakefulness. She had been dreaming of navigating a huge ship, with dolphins dancing in the crystal-clear waters beside her. The dream had been vivid and beautiful, the dolphins' graceful movements filling her with awe. She could still feel the warmth of the sun on her face, the wind in her hair. But then, a large wave had appeared on the horizon, and as it approached, she had reached out to defend herself, screaming in terror.

The scream was cut short as she opened her eyes to find Hamza standing next to her, holding a glass of water. Her face was wet with droplets. She blinked, confused, realizing he must have sprinkled water on her to wake her up. "The time for Asr is running out. Don't you want to pray?" he asked softly.

---

After finishing her salah, Hasna made her way to Hamza's study. As she entered, she noticed he was on the phone, his expression perplexed. He ended the call abruptly when he saw her, his brow furrowed in thought.

Had she heard anything? he wondered, his mind racing.

"Why did you sprinkle water on my face?" she demanded, her voice tinged with anger. "You caused a tsunami in my dream! What if I had drowned? And don't you fear me?" Hasna crossed her arms over her chest, waiting for his response, her tone a mix of frustration and bewilderment.

Hamza's frown deepened, but then a teasing smile tugged at his lips. "Why? Should I be afraid of you?" he replied, his voice light.

"What do you mean, 'why'? Don't you know I've killed seven men?" Hasna took a step closer, her voice low and menacing, but she was surprised by his reaction.

"Sorry, I forgot. I'll be sure to remember that next time," Hamza said casually, picking up a file from his desk.

"Do you think I'm joking?" she pressed, her frustration growing.

Hamza's expression sobered, and he looked directly into her eyes. "I wouldn't dare. But I believe you've repented for your actions, haven't you?"

His words caught Hasna off guard. She hadn't expected such a response, and for a moment, she was at a loss for words. Without answering, she turned to leave, unable to face him any longer.

"You shouldn't have sprinkled water on me," she muttered as she headed toward the door.

Before she could exit, Hamza called after her, "O believers! Protect yourselves and your families from a Fire whose fuel is people and stones, overseen by formidable and severe angels who never disobey whatever Allah orders—always doing as commanded."

Hasna stopped in her tracks, the words sinking deep into her consciousness.

"I'm sorry I sprinkled water on your face, but I was just doing my duty," Hamza continued. "I wanted to protect my family from the hellfire. I tried to wake you gently, but you didn't stir, so I resorted to water. And if someday I'm too lazy or fail to wake up for prayer, I give you full permission to pour an entire jug of water on me. Deal?"

Hasna listened, her mind fixated on one word—family.

Was she really his family now?

She left the study, feeling a conflict of emotions swirling within her.

[fallen-angel-92]

Chapter 1

She was not where she was supposed to be. Birthed from the womb of a goddess and raised as a Spartan. She must try and learn what it means to be a parent all the while trying to navigate this new world she is in.

         “War must be, while we defend our lives against a destroyer who would devour all; but I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend.” – J.R.R. Tolkien, The Two Towers (The Lord of the Rings, #2)

 

         Blood flew from wounds. Fists met with flesh before she had managed to slam her hammer into the head of the witch as they landed upon the snow covered ground.  Slowly, she stood up, her dark brown eyes took in the land around her as she placed her hammer back into its proper slot on her hip. It is then she noticed that the buildings that were in front of her were similar in design to those her mother told her about from her world. Just as she started to walk forward toward the building she heard the sound of several pops followed by a female yelping in pain.

         Not thinking much on it, she quickly reached behind her where her two blades rested upon her lower back, pulling them from their sheaths. Blades in hand she darted forward toward where she had heard the sound coming from as she entered what she believed was the main street, she instantly noticed a woman holding her son close to her.  There were several men surrounding her and the child holding what she assumed were automatic weapons not waiting for anything to happen, she charged at them. One of the men heard her approaching from behind, as he turned to see her fully, she used her right hand to swing a blade severing his throat.

Blood spurted from the wound causing  the other men that were nearby to turn toward her with their weapons raised. Before they could start firing on her, she quickly sank both her blades into the chest area, releasing the handles of the blades and stepped back. This allowed her to summon chains of molten rage to flow from her hands as she reached the end of the chain within her tight grip, she quickly swung the man toward the others sending them flying backward into a nearby wall. The wall collapsed most likely killing them in the process, as soon as her blades were back into her hands she felt something graze her left arm from behind.

She turned around raising her left arm, allowing her shield to spring forth just as her father's did. She could hear the pinging of the bullets ricocheting off it, not standing idly she ran toward the last man, as soon as she was close enough she slammed the shield into his head. She watched as his body hit the floor before shoving her blade into his heart. Once she was sure he was no longer moving, she removed the blade from his body, and then sheathed both the blades before pressing a button on her arm armor to withdraw her shield back. Her eyes glanced from the body toward the woman and child.

She could see the fear and curiosity in their eyes, however, she did not want to remain in this area. However, she did not want to leave the two in the midst of what she assumed was a war torn realm.

“You two should leave. Especially since you have your son with you,” she spoke out wtih a low growl.

She watched them for a moment before she turned back around to leave the area once she could see the brunette woman slowly get to her feet. She did not move over two feet away when the woman called out, accent thick upon her voice, “Wait! It is dangerous here. I can offer you shelter in return for your assistance earlier.”

She turned around looking at the woman before letting out a soft huff,” I can take care of myself, however, I am in need of lodgings until I can make my own home.”

She watched as the woman nodded her head, picking her young son, and jerked her head toward the street behind her,” Follow me. I'll show you back to our home. My name is Madonia Muller and this is my son Jake. May we ask for your name?”

“You may call me Rhea,” She replied back as she followed through several streets, taking note of the war torn conditions. 

“It is an honor to meet you, Rhea. Can you tell me where you are from? I saw a light and then you appeared,” Madonia asked as they entered what appeared to be some form of housing area near the outskirts of the town.

“I am from an ancient place. One that cannot be reached through normal means. That is all I will say,” Rhea replied as they stopped in front of the door of what appeared to be a quaint little house. 

It was obvious by the boarded up windows as well some of the damage done to the outside walls.  Madonia reached into her pocket, pulling out a key and opening up the door. Once they were inside, Rhea was greeted to a homely house, Rhea glanced upon the walls and could see that they had several photos of both her and her son. However, her attention was drawn away by Madonia speaking,” I understand. Please follow me. I'll show you to the guest room. You can rest there.” She sat the young boy, Jake, down onto the ground before signaling her to follow.

Rhea watched out of the corner of her eyes as Jake climbed up onto the nearby couch, sitting down and watched as Rhea and his mother passed by. She followed  Madonia down a small hallway toward a door, they stopped in front of it. Madonia opened the door allowing Rhea to see that it was a somewhat small room with a medium sized bed and several small dressers.

“It's not much, but you are more than welcome to use it as thanks for save me and my son,” Madonia spoke softly to her.

Rhea simply let out a hum as she stepped inside and looked around before speaking gruffly,” This will suffice I need not more. Tell me why were those men trying to kill you and your son?”

Rhea noticed the hesitation to answer her question, unsure if she was trustworthy, however, she noticed a familiar set of blue eyes peering around the doorframe. Rhea let out a small huff as she spoke,” A story for another time. It seems the boy needs you.”

At the mention of her son Madonia turned to face her son, walking over to him crouching down and began to speak to him in a language she didn't understand. Despite not understanding the language she could see that Jake was uncomfortable in her presence and so she spoke out loud,” The boy is obviously uncomfortable with my presence. Any further conversations regarding the situation outside and about me I am sure can be addressed in the morning.”

Madonia glanced over at Rhea with a slightly grateful look before nodding her head, wrapping an arm around her son's shoulders she said,'' You are correct. Come Jake, let us leave so Ms. Rhea can sleep.”

“Okay mom,” Jake muttere, lowly as he glanced up at Madonia and then toward Rhea.

Rhea simply nodded to them, watching as they left the room with Madonia closing the door behind her. Once they were gone, Rhea began to remove her blades from her back and laid them upon the nearby shelf. She then took off her hammer, staring at the black and red metal for a moment before setting it on the floor. She walked over to the bed, sitting down upon it before allowing herself to lay in it properly after she removed her boots. As she laid there, she stared up at the plain ceiling and began to wonder how her family was doing without her. Rhea hope that no one blamed themselves for her choices before she closed her eyes and drifted off into a fitful slumber. 

(Hope you enjoyed this new RE fanfic! Let me know what you think.)

[ahopkins1965]

What is the Dark Web?  This is an area of the World Wide Web, meaning internet traffic.  This is an exclusive place were bad guys tend to hide each day of the week.  The Dark Web to me personally, my telephone number has been cloned, copied, and hacked by an elite of group of people who enjoys oppressing other people.  For Instance, I have been online talking to people that I did not know at the time.  On Friday March 13, 2008, I was responsible for sending a small amount of money to people who I thought were living in the United States.



Next, I really wanted to meet someone of the opposite sex for a possible marriage. I was talking to a female to whom I thought was living in the city of New York.  I will not mention her name just to protect her privacy.  I will admit that I have spoken with her for only one week.  I really thought this person was living in the State of New York.  Whoever I was talking to, stated that they are living in the Country of Ghana in Africa.  At first I got angry with the person that I was talking to online.  Eventually I had given into her demands.  I sent her $50.00 in Western Union Funds to Ghana.  I had to pay a processing fee of $5.00 to send it.  She received it and I was satisfied for a little while.  All of a sudden, I ended up sending a total of $18,000 in Western Union Funds to a large group of people within a few years.  There method of communication at the time was online on Blackplanet. Com and Yahoo. Com.  

Further, I have sent money to 12 women and 5 men.  The names of the people I am not able to disclose.  It turns out that these people were telling lies and using me in the process.  The Dark Web is a place where criminals hang out on a daily basis. This means that my phone number was copied and pasted onto other cellphones that I was familiar with.  The Country Code was 233 in the country of Ghana; whereas, the country code for the country of Nigeria is 234.  Therefore, the people who scammed me were living in a country with a tropical environment.



Also, I want to say that this Dark Web has affected me and everyone else that I know personally.  I have suffered from a severe depression, which lead to an attempted to kill myself on Friday February 13, 2010 in Dayton, Ohio.  I had swallowed all of my medicine at the time because I was hearing voices from the people who scammed me out of money.  It turns out that they had put a bad luck spell on me, which turned out to be a mind control device called the Voice of God.  They had fabricated a mental illness on their victims.

In Addition, I want to inform all of you that cellphones numbers are copied and pasted onto a listing of a criminal environment.  I will admit that I do suffer from Schizoid Affective Disorder and Schizophrenia.  During the past 14 years now, I have been hearing music and repeated words on a constant basis.  I want to say that this is a very dangerous place for your phone number to be inside of.  I am very happy being all by myself online and in my personal life.  I have longed for a relationship with a God Fearing Woman.  I do understand that God has other plans for me right now.

Moreover, I wanted to get married and have kids someday.  God understands me more than actual people.  God does put other people in your life to guide you and lead you on a straight path.  I will admit that I was a victim of a pyramid scheme that existed in two countries.  How this works is that a person contacts you either on the computer or by a cellphone.  The phone numbers themselves are unavailable or unlisted.  These computer hackers and scammers are very crafty.  Therefore, I want to say that this is a crime in progress.  This means that this is a developing story a present situation.  

Finally, I am saying that your phone number is transferred illegally and copied to the defendants phone numbers.  Your email accounts and Social Media Accounts can be copied, pasted, and transferred without your common knowledge.  This means that you will not know until it is too late.  Someone can at the same time be using your phone and email accounts without you knowing about it.  Some victims tend to suffer from personal pain and suffering for an entire lifetime due to an overwhelming amount of stress.  The Dark Web problems can be resolved by Lifelock Agency, which deals with crimes that occur the use of a computer.  The Dark Web is something that existed for over 40 years now.  Some of these crimes are not reported by victims that suffer from Identity Theft, Fraud, and Wire Fraud.  There are people in my case, who are Person's of Interest.  I am still a crime victim.