#like could it just be as simple as the phrase just worked well in totally separate contexts but since it does seem odd to use that twice...

[mezzy-1]

Learning Their Language (Valorant X Reader)

The protocol is about as international as it gets, and although most of them are bilingual there can be a bit of a language barrier.  You and your S/O decided to practice a bit of their native language so you could.  (I’m bilingual in Spanish so everything else me actually learning words, so it may not sound like a native speaker).  Like, reblog, and comment pls :) Special thank you to @darthladyofillusions for help translating the Turkish and Japanese!

Gekko - Spanish 

“Oye Y/N, que onda?” Gekko asked as he entered the lounge and sat next to you on the sofa

“Nada, estoy ehh… I’m just sitting here. I don't really know how to say that yet…” you trailed off with a bit of a weak laugh 

“Y/N, don’t worry about it.  It’s good that you can understand when I’m saying hi.”

“But I want to know more…”  you paused and looked at him, then an idea struck

“You could teach me, you and I spend so much time together and it isn’t like it would be studying in school.”

Gekko stared back at you for a couple of seconds and then sat up quickly

“I’d totally teach you Spanish Y/N!”  His excitement matched yours, and a wide grin spread across his face

A few weeks went by between you and him doing the basics of Spanish.  Practicing phrases for callouts helped a lot for the field, but even simple responses like ‘de acuerdo’ or ‘un poquito’ became more common for you

During a particularly slow day, Brimstone called a meeting.  Gekko and you sat together as usual

Part way through the meeting, Gekko whispered ‘Creo que vamos a morir en esas sillas.  Seremos esqueletos secos cuando Brim esta terminado.’

You understood his joke clearly and stifled your laughter the best you could.  Gekko had made a habit of telling jokes in Spanish for only you and him

Unless of course Reyna was in the room, at which point she’d join in.  Reyna’s Spanish was quicker than when Gekko spoke to you, but you had learned to pick out a few words

“Dime Gekko, ¿qué quieres comer anoche?  We got some skirt steaks in so we can make some ar-achera.” you looked over at Gekko, a puzzled expression on his face

���Como?  Que dijiste Y/N”

“Arachera?...”

“You aren’t rolling the R in ‘arrachera’ right.  Say it like this: Arrr-A-che-Ra.”

“Ar. A! Ara!”  You tried to pronounce it the same way he did but just weren’t used to making that sound

“Well do you have any advice on how to roll an R?”

“Just put your tongue on the roof of your mouth.” he replied, taking a step closer to you while you tried to pronounce it correctly

“Como eso amor.” he leaned in and kissed you softly 

“On the top of the mouth, Y/N.  If you can kiss, you should have no problems with saying it right.”

“Fue incredible…” you whispered as he pulled back.  Gekko was blushing as much as you were and giggled quietly

The rest of the evening was spent grilling, cutting vegetables, and making crude jokes in Spanish

Wingman nearly ran away with some of the plated arepas you and him had made.  After rescuing them, you had your dinner together

“Oye Mateo,” 

He looked up mid bite 

“I never got to thank you for how much you’ve done for me.  Muchísimas gracias a todos.  Y tu sabes eso, pero te amo.  Eres mi querido.” you worried you sounded too much like a telenovela but caught Gekko smiling

“De nada Y/N.  Eres el amor de mi vida  también.”

Chamber - French 

“Bonsoir Y/N, ça va?”  Chamber called to you from behind right as you entered the workshop 

“I don’t know what you just said Vincent.  I can only understand when you speak English.”

“But Y/N, you could learn.  After all, you’d have the finest tutor in all of France to teach you.”  Chamber moved closer and looked over your shoulder as you began to disassemble a pistol

“You’d actually teach me?” you asked, trying to fight the urge to turn around and meet him face to face

“Certainly Y/N.  For two people to share a language is a wonderful thing.  They work better together and they become so much closer”

His offer got the better of you, and you relented.  You turned to face him as he stood up and met your stare

“I’ll do it then.  Especially if it means we can spend a little more time together.”

Chamber adjusted his glasses and smiled.  “Magnifique Y/N.”

For the next couple of weeks you met with Chamber whenever you could.  Lessons tended to be something you looked forward to

“Non, non, Y/N.  It would be a travesty for you not to assist on le mission.  Je m’ennuie à mourir sans toi.  Tu es beaucoup trop amusant pour partir.”  

“Je le pense aussi, but do you think I’d just get in the way?  I thought you’d be solo on this one.”

“Y/N,” Chamber affixed his glasses and studied your hesitancy, “J'adorerais ta compagnie Y/N.”

The mission was a strike on some Omega agents in the Pyrenees range.  After some light exercise and carefully placed shots, you and him retired to safehouse in the mountains

“Ah Y/N, puis-je vous offrir quelque chose à boire?  Txakoli ou Sauvignon Blanc?” Chamber lifted two bottles for you to decide on

“Je voudrais le blanc, s’il vous plait.” you added on extra politeness knowing it would impress Chamber.  Plus going with a French wine would make him proud

“A good choice,” he replied while pouring your glasses.  “Es-tu installé confortablement?”

“Oui, but I have to wonder why we have a wine selection at a safehouse.” you slyly asked.  Chamber gave you knowing glance

“Unless, someone went to great lengths for some time together.  Avez-vous prévu cela?”

“Peut-etre.” Chamber answered, feigning ignorance and peering at his wine glass.  His eyes mischievously darted to you

“You know…while I’ve been learning French, I never did learn how to say something I always wanted to learn.”

“Quoi?  And that would be?”  Chamber inched closer to you set his glass down

“Kiss me.” you answered, leaning towards him and gazing into his enthralling eyes

“Embrasse-moi.” Vincent whispered before taking his opportunity.  He held your head and kissed you gently

After a while, you found yourself resting across Chamber’s chest.  You looked up at the agent and caught him smiling down at you

“Je t’aime.” you quietly spoke

“Je t’aime aussi, Y/N.”

Fade - Turkish

It was getting late in the night and you were headed towards your room

“Hey, Y/N.”  Fade’s voice made you jump and you turned to see her leaning against the wall just out of sight

“Merhaba…” you groaned absent-mindedly.  The lack of sleep was finally catching up to you 

“What was that? Y/N Türkçe mi öğreniyorsun?” her typical scowl replaced with deep interest

“I mean, only a little.  I don’t know if I’ll keep doing it though.”

“...Well I could offer a few minutes every so often.  İlgini çeker mi?

“E-Evet.  Tesekkurler Fade!” despite your exhaustion, you still had trouble sleeping that night

The following couple of nights you spent in Fade’s room with a cup of tea and a few notes you scribbled down

Most of the practice was just chatting together about life at the protocol and the day to day

“… Üç saatlik sorguyu izlemem gerekti. Üç saat.”  Fade too a long sip of çay and laid back on a pillow

“Really, 3 hours and nothing?  That must have been boring.”

“Türkçe Y/N.” She chided

“Uzgunum!  Ne kadar sıkıcı!”  You quickly corrected yourself and adjusted your seat

“Anyways Y/N, Günün nasıldı?” Fade reclined back and trained her gaze on you

“Ughh, tipik.  Keşke yapacak daha çok şeyim olsaydı.” you lamented.  

“I can lend you a few books. İster misin?”  Fade picked a few hard cover books from her nightstand and offered them to you

Almost half asleep, you took one and looked it over the summary.  Despite the 

“Uykum geldi Hazal, I’m gonna head over to my…room.”  You yawned and drowsily made your way towards the door but fell asleep where you were. 

Fade moved over to you and placed on of her blankets over you.  She stood, captivated by how peacefully you slept

The following morning you woke up in her room and began to make your way to your own

“Günaydın.” Fade had caught you once more while you tried to quietly exit.  In her hands was the book she gave you last night

“Unuttum! Thank you for reminding me.” you took the book back and set it your room

You met Fade outside your room after your morning routine.  Both of you had the day off, so spent it together

You’d chat in Turkish about plans and privately made arrangements to meet together outside for çay after most of the protocol went to sleep

 Most of the day was gossipping in Turkish and sharing stories from before the protocol.  Fade’s were usually dramatic considering her history, yours were a little more uplifting

Once the moon was hanging over the headquarters, you crept quietly to the spot with freshly made çay 

“İyi akşamlar Y/N.” Hazal greeted you with a slight smile.  “Otur Y/N.”

Taking a seat next to her, you began to sip your tea and chat with Hazal about how much things had changed for the both of you since joining Valorant

By the time the tea was finished, you had your head rested on Hazal’s shoulder while she held your hand

A thought crossed your mind

“Hey Hazal, Türkçe’de…I love you, nasıl denir?” you grinned as the words left your mouth 

Her eyes drifted towards you and she raised an eyebrow.  Her green and blue eyes studied your growing apprehension

Without warning, she took hold of the back of your head and pulled you in close

Her kiss was impulsive and quick, and she held you gently as if trying to shield you from the surrounding darkness

When you broke the kiss, your face was flushed with surprise.  The night air felt twice as cool against the warmth in your cheeks

“Seni seviyorum, Y/N.” 

Yoru - Japanese

“Oi, Y/N, pass me the wrench.”  Yoru had his face buried in his bike as usual, and you were helping out and catching up

“Hai douzo…” you muttered.  Yoru grabbed a hold of it and began fastening something, then stopped

“Did you just speak fucking Japanese?” He sat up, almost hitting his head on the exhaust pipe and looked at you with suspicion

“I did, so what?” you replied.  Yoru was always saying something in Japanese, so you decided to learn what you could 

“And why did you decide to learn Japanese, out of all of the languages to learn?”  Yoru leaned on the bike

“ Betsu ni.” you shot back nonchalantly before folding your arms and smugly grinning at Yoru

“Well you’re sort of shit at it.”  Yoru enjoyed the sudden embarrassment and doubt you felt before making his final move

“Komatta koto ga attara kike ne.  Just make sure your questions aren’t annoying.  Wakatta?”  His attempt to seem uncaring was outweighed by his offer

A few weeks went by of you and Yoru throwing barbs at each other in Japanese or just exchanging short phrases

“Yoru-kunnn…” you purred.  It was just you and him in the locker rooms and you were being a little adventurous with new honorifics

“Y/N.  Ima nan to itta?”  Yoru twisted around with a scowl forming while one eyebrow lifted

“Oh, nothing.  Trying out some more words, Yoru-kun!” 

Yoru took a deep breath and sighed.  

“It’s dumb as hell to use that outside of Japan.  Nobody uses it outside of businessmen trying to kiss someone’s ass and people who don’t know better.”

“Ja dou yobou ka?”  If he wasn’t gonna use it, you’d go with something else to call him.

“Ore no namae de kimatteru da.  Same as you Y/N.” Yoru began combing his hair and dressing into some casual clothing

“Fine then, I’ll use something else.  Yatsu work for you?”

Yoru was almost proud of you for that

“Anata wada warugaki.”

More weeks passed by with you learning some more obscenities from Yoru.  His days of crime taught him an assortment of terms you eagerly applied to your own learning

Soon, you and him were assigned to break into a building and sabotage some equipment

Once you were done, you and Yoru were free to enjoy yourselves 

“Got any plans for us Y/N?”

“Tokunai nai.”

“Good.  Come with me then.”  He pushed past you and grabbed your hand.  Before you knew it you were traveling through his rift

Suddenly, you found yourself on a rooftop overlooking the city.  Yoru teleported behind you holding some bags and taking a seat on the ledge

“Come on Y/N, food’s gonna get cold.”

“Arigatuo Ryo.” 

Steam drifted from the udon as you held it for warmth against the cold night.  Yoru took notice and moved closer without a word

“Hey Yoru, Kisusuru no mi wa nandesu?” you asked while resting your head on his shoulder

Yoru froze for a second, you felt him tense his arm ever so slightly.  His eyes moved over to you and a small smirk began to form on his face

“Mou ikkai ie, Y/N.”

Beginning to answer, “Kisusuru no-” 

Yoru pressed his lips to yours and passionately kissed you.  It was as if he had been waiting an eternity to do it 

Your arm snaked around his waist and he did the same to you.  Warmth from him eased your shivering against the wind

He broke off the kiss and gazed into your eyes.  You couldn’t tell if the blushing was coming from excitement or the cold

“Imi wa kore da yo.  But do you know the meaning of aishiteru, Y/N?”

“Anata no koto daisuki.” left your mouth instinctively

Yoru and you watched the lights of the city together for the rest of the night

Sova - Russian 

“Horosho Y/N, excellent marksmanship!” Sova’s applause was worth every extra hour  of practice at the range

“It was your advice that helped the most.  Thank you again for the lessons!” Sova took your rifle as you thanked him 

“Sova, I have a bit more to ask.  Just a little favor, but only if you feel like it!” you instantly realized how much you were over clarifying

“You always have my help, Y/N.  What is it you would like?”

“Can you teach me some Russian?  I always hear you speaking it and I thought it would be fun to learn it.” 

“That would be wonderful!” Sova’s eyes lit up in excitement.  Later he brought you a small book, a Russian language manual

“I had a few books delivered here from the mainland.  Vam eto nravitsya?”

“Konechno, spasibo!” you quickly thanked him with the Russian you had practiced

You and Sova took turns trying out words in conversation.  It was a little intimidating, but his encouragement got you through the embarrassment

“Kharoshaya rabota!” “Vpechatlyayushchaya!” “Chudesnyy!” 

You and him started to meet for occasional chats in Russian, usually starting with a compliment on something 

This eventually continued over into missions, where you and him would use Russian because it was quicker

“Y/N!  Zaryadite seychas!” Sova yelled while aiming a recon arrow.  You stampeded in and dispatched the hostile agents with his help

After recovering from the fight, you and him were together in the lounge and chatting in a mixture of Russian and English

“Oh, I almost forgot!  Imeyte eto!” Sova passed you another book, a copy of your favorite book but in Russian print

“My mozhem prochitat' eto vmeste.”  Sova was softly smiling and seemed lost in how happy he had made you

You practically crushed him with a hug.  You buried your face into his sweater before pulling him onto the couch

Opening the book, you flipped through the pages to the front and found the start of the first chapter.  Noticing the cover was loose, you adjusted it and your eye caught something

In elegant cursive was written: ‘ya lyublyu tebya, Y/N’ hidden away under the cover.  Curious as to what it was, you asked Sova

“Ah, я ne dumal, chto ty skoro eto zametish'!” he was blushing and nervously twisted a strand of blonde hair

“Sova, chto eto znachit?” you asked, puzzled

“It means, I love you.  Ty dlya menya vse Y/N.” 

You decided to try some Russian you had learned for a moment just like this

“Potseluy menya.” you leaned in and Sova did as well

You placed the book down and embraced Sova.  He was warm, and the comfort you felt in his arms was akin to sitting near a fireplace

Sova’s kiss was strong, but gentle.  His calm demeanor and tendency to take his time made the moment seem to last forever

“Я tozhe tebya lyublyu.” you whispered into his ear

Neon - Tagolog

“Kamusta ka Y/N!” Neon’s infectious energy broke through the boredom of filing a battle report

“I’m alright,” you put the report down and figured it was complete enough, “what about you?”

“Just trying to kill time.  You still have the copy of that comic I lent you?  Phoenix wanted a copy so…”

Rummaging through the books on your shelf, you pulled a volume from the collection.  A few books fell as you did so

Neon immediately went to help you place them on her shelf started replacing them.  She suddenly paused

“Y/N, is this a Tagalog learning manual?” she turned over to you and held the book up 

“-uh, yeah it is.  I may have picked it up after we started spending more time together.”  A sheepish look was your only defense

“You could’ve just asked me to teach you.  I mean I could totally do that if you’re interested…” Neon’s hair was beginning to stand on end as she waited for a response

“O pakiusap.” 

For a few days, you and Neon met together for lessons.  Of course it was mainly her correcting a few phrases while the two of you went for a run or chatted

She’d also drop a few new words in every time, mostly whenever you couldn’t remember one 

On a late morning jog, you and her took a rest on some of the benches inside the gym and caught up

“Pagod ka na ba?” Neon was already stretching her legs and retying her shoes

“Ilang lap pa?” you sputtered out, still catching your breath.  You loved running with her, but she never got tired 

“Eh, who cares anyway.  Anong gagawin mo ngayong gabi?”  Neon asked, taking a moment to crack her shoulders and neck

“Bukas na ang gabi ko.” Normally you had a few plans with other agent, but tonight you were all hers

“Agh!” Neon winced.  “Y/N, you mind getting this one spot on my shoulder?  Sobrang sakit.”

“O Tala,” you took a seat behind her and felt around her back until you touched the knot.  You took your elbow and pressed into it 

A shock shot through your body and sent you tumbling backwards.  As you regained your composure, Neon’s panicked eyes caught yours

“Patawad Y/N!” Neon cried.  She carefully helped you to your feet and offered her water bottle 

“Huwag mag-alala, it happens.” you had been shocked a few times before and Neon was always worried about you

“I- patawarin mo ako.  I shouldn’t be around you Y/N.” she apologized profusely and sprinted away to her room

Hours passed and Neon hadn’t left her room.  By mid-evening, you decided that she had spent enough time alone and knocked on her door

“TALA!!  Buksan mo ang pinto!” 

The metal panels slide apart and you entered.  Huddled in on her bed was Tala, hiding under her hoodie

“You shouldn’t feel bad Tala, ayos lang ako?” you gestured to yourself to emphasize 

“Hindi ko mapigilang gawin ito.”  Neon’s regret clung to each word, as she dug herself deeper into her clothes

You decided to use a trick you had absolute faith in to get her out of the pit she found herself stuck in

Neon reacted with surprise as you suddenly held her and kissed her.  She froze, arms raising to keep you away

Wrapping your arms around her, you ran your hands over her back gently.  Neon melted into you, but broke the kiss 

“Y/N, I-.”

“Huwag kang mag-alala,” you interjected, “tumutok sa kung ano ang maaari nating kontrolin.”

Neon’s teary eyes were filled with a mix of hope and relief

“Salamat Y/N.  Paano ako makakabawi sayo?  Please, I can’t thank you enough!”

“Well, anong plano mo ngayong gabi?” you were going to make sure the night she planned didn’t go to waste

“I rented some movies, well Cypher pirated them for me.  Gusto mo silang panoorin magkasama?” she tapped finger nervously on her bed

“Of course!  Magugustuhan ko iyan!”  

With that, you and Neon spent most of the evening cuddled together in her room.  About half way through the second film, she leaned over to you and whispered

“Mahal kita Y/N.”

[noyasaur]

bro i am soo sick of shifting methods. i wanna be able to just close my eyes, set my intention and shift instantly to my dr. is there a way to manifest that? and if so how??

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

hellooo anon! and yess this is 100% definitely something that is possible and i'll try and give you some advice for this and maybe some links at the end to help you out further :)

🪐 SHIFTING WITH INTENTION!

now, shifting with intention is something that is 100% possible and is really one of the only things we need to shift. setting intention is quite simple to but it's one of the things that this community overcomplicates sometimes.

intention is an action or plan we mentally decide to do, then we just do it. it's totally possible to train ourselves to close our eyes and just shift, because shifting is an innate ability inside of ourselves that we already know how to do.

even without being aware of it, like we're subconsciously shaping our reality with our assumptions, we're also simultaneously shifting every single second of our lives. however, sometimes the 'tricky' part is our mindset.

🪐 LAW OF ASSUMPTION!

in this case, one of the things you could so is use the law of assumption for this. you could create an assumption such as "i always shift to my desired reality instantly whenever i want," then following the law of assumption, you continue to persist in this belief/assumption as it is true in your imagination (4D). within your imagination, accept it as something true and is something that is something you can already do to which it reflects into your 3D, physical reality!

if you find you start out in doing this and it doesn't work at first or you find yourself having negative feelings towards this new belief, it's okay! there's ways for you to instil this assumption and belief into you until you believe in it- well, not even believing in it. until you truly know that you can do this.

robotic affirming/saturating your mind with affirmations can be an option which is basically just repeating an affirmation over and over again (this is what i sometimes do). or, i would take a moment in my day to imagine myself having this ability. and since i know that whatever i accept to be true in my imagination is my true reality, i don't need to stress and just try my best to continue living my life knowing that this is true for me. or even creating an affirmation or sub-tape of yourself repeating your desired affirmations over and over again can help you instil this new belief into you.

something you could do as well (which is something i personally do) is think of something you do regularly, or even write down a specific number and leave it lying around so whenever you do these things or come across that number, you simply just repeat whatever affirmation you want.

for example, i could write the number 7 on my laptop on a sticky note and whenever i look at that number, i would say to myself with full belief and confidence: "i am a master shifter and can shift on command whenever i want."

🪐 PRACTICING INTENTION-SETTING!

additionally, if you feel like your intention-setting isn't the best, you can always try practicing setting intention. start off with small things you 100% know you can fulfil, such as deciding to brush your teeth or intending to make toast. say whatever phrase you want as an 'intention-setting phrase' and then complete the action. then work your way up to bigger things such as intending to wake up at a certain time without an alarm clock, for instance. and then eventually, use intention to shift instantly/on command whenever you feel ready.

along with your phrase, you could even choose a certain motion like waving your arm and clapping three times to pair with your intention. so whenever you do this specific motion and affirmation, you do whatever you intend to do (and in this case, you shift).

for example, you could say/decide to yourself "i intend to brush my teeth," and then you go brush your teeth, that is an example of you setting an intention and then going to fulfil it.

🪐 EXTRA ADVICE!

and even if you set an intention to shift and you don't shift, be indifferent to it and carry on with your life. act if if you did shift and it's so easy to shift with intention, incorporating the law of assumption into it. the law of assumption NEVER fails.

working on your mindset helps too! honestly BE that person who knows they can shift on command at any time so effortlessly and easily. don't be afraid to be confident and cocky about it too, be confident and cocky about it too because you can!!! your assumptions create your reality so if you start thinking and assuming you can't shift or it's not going to work then it simply won't work. start rooting for yourself that you can do it!

but honestly, there's so many different methods and tools you can use to help with intention-setting but at the end of the day, it's all up to you to decide what's best for you and what action to take to go along this path.

and remember, setting intention is easy. don't just try to set an intention and try to it. it's as simple as setting an intention and doing it.

it's seriously can be as simple as deciding to head to bed, setting an intention and deciding that when you fall asleep you will wake up in your desired reality. or even as simple as thinking of where you want to shift to, setting an intention and just shifting. it might all seem hard to believe but that's why it's important to have faith, confidence and trust in yourself.

🪐 AFFIRMATION EXAMPLES!

I always shift to my desired reality on command.

I always shift to my desired reality whenever I want.

Why do I always shift to my desired reality whenever I want?

Why is shifting so easy for me?

How am I always shifting whenever I want?

I always shift to my desired reality when I fall asleep

I always shift to my desired reality whenever I intend to do so

I can shift realities just by setting intention

I can shift realities whenever I want to

Whenever I close my eyes and want to shift, I always shift to my desired reality

Shifting on command is so easy for me! I just say "___" and then I shift!

Why is shifting on command so easy for me?

anyways, i hope i could help and good luck with shifting! i believe in you and i know you can do this so have some confidence and faith in yourself and you got this!!! (≧◡≦) ♡

- saturn ♡

below are some links of users who have shifted on command and ways they worked out how to do it! i advise you to read these at your own pace and not overconsume it all at once.

how i started shifting on command with loa - https://aminoapps.com/c/desired/page/blog/how-i-started-shifting-on-command-with-loa/XYkm_81UguJGeKQ3ZJvk51dnbEZnZpogX

how i (kinda) taught myself to shift on command - https://aminoapps.com/c/desired/page/blog/deg-how-i-kinda-taught-myself-to-shift-on-command/47Wq_PwtYuNvwVaM5z7d835KQkoGYxQZpR

shifted home twice on command - https://aminoapps.com/c/desired/page/blog/shifted-home-twice-on-command/W5wM_8lIXulXwB8v8ebPoG5g70gp0R6oj

how i shift everytime: step by step - https://aminoapps.com/c/desired/page/blog/how-i-shift-everytime-step-by-step/W5wM_8lIXu7L7YqwmY0LwoYMeG7JXjD6Y

i taught myself how to shift on command - https://aminoapps.com/c/desired/page/blog/i-taught-myself-how-to-shift-on-command/W5wM_8lIXuR3nKRalW40VNLGr3d1zqY4Yw

[deblklesb]

[Head Over Heels — Abby x Reader Oneshot]

[rugby player!abby, artist!reader, fluff, pining]

cw: reader is a total mess, abby is brother's friend. there's not explicit content but still MDNI.

a/n: I've put my whole simpussy in this, like... reader is a loser lesbian and this fact is totally self-inserted, sorry not sorry. again, so so sorry for the wait! this is just some fluff with reader being a simp, a mess, all over the place for abby anderson teheehee 👉🏾👈🏾, i hope you like it anon!!!

word count: 3,4k | not proof read

!reblogs are highly appreciated!

The cool winter wind was reaching your face as you pedaled to your class, high speed across campus because you were late. The alarm didn't clock, you took too much time eating breakfast, and now you wish to all the heavens the teacher has not arrived yet.

Your brother was very much confused when you started to run around the house this morning.

"I didn't know you had class, you usually wake up first so I assumed…"

"The alarm didn't clock", you yelled from the bathroom, brushing your teeth as fast as you could, but decently.

Now, the open buttons of your shirt allowed the wind to come in so you wouldn't be as sweaty. Fixing your hair after parking and locking your bicycle, you greeted someone working and headed to the room, so frustrated to get late to your favorite class.

"You're lucky our model for today is more late than you", the teacher said as soon as you got inside.

"Sorry, Ms. Addams", your smile was weak. You wanted to disappear, that was your favorite teacher.

The only tripod available was in the front, no one liked it because the lightning from there was so confusing it messed up every sketch. Lucky for you, during winter the sun isn't that bright, so you fixed your stuff and just got a moment to breathe. Being a teacher's pet didn't mean sitting in the front, that was new for you.

"Hey, what happened?" Gloria, your friend, reached out. "You're never late"

"My alarm", you shudder, sighing. "Well, I'm here now. We just have to wait for the model"

"I heard is some girl from the rugby team"

Well, that's news. Your teacher is doing some work indeed, trying to expose her students to different body shapes and all.

"Nice. Perhaps she's nice and will carry me around, my legs are burning from pedaling so hard", it was a joke, a silly one, but as soon as a woman who wasn't enrolled in that class got in, you knew she could definitely carry you around. You also knew that because you knew her.

She was probably the biggest woman you've seen in person, and absolutely the most beautiful.

Freckled, creamy skin on her arms and face, honey-blonde hair in a braid that fell on her shoulder, a firm and strong body worthy of an athlete. Her clothes were simple, just cargo pants with a plain shirt and boots, but boy, oh boy, she was looking gorgeous. As always.

"Sorry for the time, boss, I had to get out later from early practice", for some unknown reason, her voice, too, sounded too good to be true and made you melt inside with just a simple phrase that wasn't even directed to you. "Hope it doesn't mess around with the class"

"It's okay, Abigail. And you don't have to call me boss, we've talked about it", your teacher smiled fondly, hugging the tall woman and making obvious the size difference. You were probably the same height as the dark-skinned woman, so that means you were as high as Abby's chin. Being next to her on other situations made you very self-aware of that fact.

This useless information would always make you squirm. This time it was on the chair in the middle of the class, hoping for all the God's nobody noticed.

"Kids, this is Abby. She will be our model for today and two other classes, so make use of the anatomy to study properly", she was very comfortable next to the rugby player, which made you deduce they knew each other well. "Well, now go prep yourself, darling, we have to start"

"Do I… Take everything, or something?" Just the mention of her being nude made your mind buzz around and it wasn't a good sign, considering you had to focus to draw.

"Keep your underwear, please", the older woman smiled sympathetically, turning around and heading to the back of the room, her usual initial spot in every live reference class.

Abby took off her boots and left next to an empty chair, starting to undress then.

Nobody was looking at you, but you tried to keep it cool and professional. Ignoring the heat on your face and the sweat arising on your palms, you looked at Gloria to hide your embarrassment and noticed she was looking back at you trying not to laugh.

"You're very gay", she whispered, making you roll your eyes and then look at your empty sketchbook. She wasn't wrong, though, you were very much a lesbian and it was obvious.

Those type of reactions were normal whenever Abby was around, but you could definitely go through that class without it.

You put effort into abstracting the sensations and feelings that make room into you as soon as Abby stands in the small, lifted platform in the center of the room, the ambient light hitting her just right. She positioned herself in a simple form, waving briefly at you from there when she spotted you in the front. You did the same back, a small smile to be nice - but not too big to give it away that being around her made you almost piss your pants - and then you all started to work

It was a figure drawing training, something you usually hated because you had to think too much about form, proportion, perspective and lightning. You loved to do loose sketches and grew very fond of gesture drawing, too much for your liking, so that now that you had to stick to the forms and not the rhythm and movement, your mind froze a little. Despite that, you loved doing art and loved that class even though it had nothing directly linked to your major.

Abby had strong features, in the sense of focus. The muscles of the arms and legs, the shape of her face, the abdomen and her whole posture caught your attention too much. It wasn't just the imagery, but a whole set of little elements that formed a distinctive energy. Even the braided hair was part of that, and at each second, each line traced and marked shadow, you tried to remind yourself that it was a class.

After 10 minutes or so, she took a break - admittedly, you had no idea how those models stood still for so long. While she stretched and relaxed her muscles, people started to talk with each other around the room, the small buzz of conversations surrounding, as you turned to Gloria.

"I'm dying here", you whispered, stretching your hands and fingers a bit. "She's so pretty"

"I have to admit… She is very handsome. I don't usually hang out in your brother's dorm so I don't see her often…"

"They're together all the time, I am very lucky to have my face shoved into a book all the time because then I don't have to have buckled knees around her" Gloria laughed at your despair, the whispers almost a cry for help.

"Let's gather our focus, people", Ms. Addams called, and just like that the break ended.

Although the object of analysis was Abby's body and structure, you just had to make a small drawing of her face. Shading and putting too much effort, you ended up doing another one. And by the time the class ended, you had a main figure drawing of her body in the first pose, two others of her face and another simple sketch. A very productive class, and you felt yourself bursting with inspiration still.

"I have a class in five minutes, so I'll have to go now, boss!", the blonde reached to her clothes as people started to pack their stuff. You tried not to look at her figure too much, but took your time putting the material in place just because, y'know… Care. It had nothing to do with the possibility to look at her from afar a little bit more.

"That's okay, Abigail. Thank you for your help, same time next week. Send a hug to your father!", Ms. Addams waved goodbye.

"Hey" you looked up from your backpack when Gloria tapped your shoulder. She pointed to the door, where Abby was standing, ready to go. The blonde was looking at you, a smile on her face. "Tell your brother he owes me twenty bucks. See ya!"

"Okay, bye", you nodded and chuckled lightly at the comment, imagining the type of bet they both must've done this time.

As soon as the other students started to get out, your friend gave you small punches in the arm, giggling.

"Stop!", you felt your face warm, it was so fucking ridiculous to be like this around her every time. And the worst part is that she didn't even notice you that much, so you were a head over heels with zero hope.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

"What do you mean you were naked around my sister?!" You rolled your eyes with the discussion, ready for the mess your brother was about to make.

"Nobody was naked, I had underwear!" Abby's voice was playful, but you knew your brother was two steps from going serious about it.

"Stop being a drama king, asshole", you grunted while going to the kitchen, not even looking at them to escape the risk of drooling over the tall woman sitting on the couch.

"Hey, I'm the big brother here, I was supposed to be looking over you!" His voice started to get a pitch higher, you could imagine the indignant face already.

"You don't even give me rides home, too busy with your flings", you shout from the kitchen now, filling up your bottle.

You were trying so hard to focus on studying a subject you were not interested in, ready to throw it in the air to watch some Ghibli movies instead. Filling the water bottle was almost an excuse to get out of that madness, but having to hold your reactions because of Abby's presence was not ideal.

"That's right, get him again! Get him for me!" And now her voice is closer, almost like she's in the kitchen with you. It makes you flinch slightly, almost dropping the bottle before you turn around to see her strong figure on the entrance.

"Look, you touch her and I will fucking throw that rugby ball right into your face!"

"Jesus Christ, Matt, shut up! Nobody is keeping you from your shit, leave me alone?! It's just Abby!"

Your mom would be annoyed to be around you both, good thing you lived together alone.

"Yeah, Matt, it's just Abby!" She repeats.

You finally look at her properly. She has a simple shirt on and sweatpants, it's casual but it looks too good on her - as usual. Her hair is down - you loved her hair down - and a scrunchie lies on her wrist. Her freckles are so visible from where you stand, it's almost like cute details painted directly on her face to compose the most beautiful work of art.

"I would like to see it, by the way", you snap out of your trance with her words directed to you.

Her hips touch the kitchen counter when she's one step closer, a sympathetic smile making your hands tingle and her tone weaker now that she's just talking to you.

"What?"

"Your drawings. From the class"

"Oh-", you look away, trying to come up with an excuse. "But… We still have other classes to go. It's better to see it at the end and all… And they're not even that good", you're holding that water bottle for your dear life, afraid that it slips from your hands due to the sweat.

"You don't wanna show me, that's fine", she chuckle, hands up in acceptance.

"It's not that, it's just-"

"No, I'm not being funny, it's serious. If you don't wanna show me, it's okay. Was just curious y'know, after all I'm just standing there. Don't know how you do whatever you're doing"

That's the most you've ever talked to Abby, and she's so nice. Genuinely trying to make you comfortable. And it makes you fucking sick, you just wanna spit out that you would like to have her posing for you every day for ever, to have her like your muse, to kiss her face after drawing it millions of times- You're such a loser.

"Oh, I get it…" you nod, trying to come up with a good response. "Well, I guess after the classes, I mean when you stop posing for us, I could show you whatever I did. Just wanna be more confident, it takes a little bit more of time to be familiar to the subject"

"If that's your saying, boss lady, I absolutely believe it", she's smiling wider now and you just wanna scream into a pillow about how incredibly cute her cheeks are.

"Okay, ahm… I have to go back to the room… To study other stuff that is not art, unfortunately", you point to the corridor, mind going blank with the mere proximity between you both. "So, uh… See you later?"

"Hope so. Good study session", Abby gives you space to get out of the kitchen.

The rest of the afternoon you keep repeating that interaction in your mind. Analyzing you every word and wondering if she thought you were, like, embarrassing.

Still, the image of her cute cheeks when she smiled at you and the way she seemed really interested in your drawings took over your attention, it was all you could think about the rest of the day because you're such a simp and she's so beautiful. Fuck this.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

It's now game season, which means that the college campus is a mess. Everybody seems so agitated, a buzz surrounds each corner while posters adorn the walls and murals, calling for the next big rugby game.

The hype around the event kinda mobilizes you too, even though you're not even that into sports. You're actually so out of this type of entertainment, but eventually if you sit to watch with your brother you get so excited and exalted that it almost looks like you've been following the teams forever. Matt actually thinks it is so funny that you keep asking him the rules and then start to scream at the TV once you'd pick it up enough to finally enjoy the match.

"If they don't kick their asses I'll actually lose fifty bucks" Gloria reveals as you both enter the building for the art class.

"Fifty?!" Your eyes almost jump from your skull. "Do you have that much faith in our team?"

"Well, don't you?"

"I don't know", she laughs. "Really, I don't follow them… But if you bet fifty bucks, they must be at least decent"

"Your girlfriend is a good player, if that's what you wanna ask", the taller woman smiles at you with that suggestive manner.

"I didn't ask!"

"But you were thinking about it"

"Shut up." You definitely were. "And she's not my girlfriend" Unfortunately.

As you both enter the room, early enough this time, you recall the fact that it's your last class with Abby as a model. Something inside of you mourns the future absence of such a big source of inspiration for you. Your sketchbook (the personal one) has pages filled with drawings of her - you didn't tell anyone, but you went through her instagram page and used some gym photos as references.

One night you brother stormed in your room and you had to close the book as fast as possible, trying to mask your embarrassment. If he knew that you were so into Abby, he would be a hundred percent more unbearable.

"Hey, teacher", the tall woman soon walked in the class, backpack and a massive bottle of water on one hand. "Last day, uh?"

"Yes, dear", people started to settle for the beginning of the session, fixing materials and angles. "I would like to thank you for your time and disposition, I imagine it isn't easy to stand in front of a class of stranges that are meticulously looking at you", everybody chuckled. Abby took her shirt in the corner, putting the clothes on a chair. Against your will, you absolutely checked on her. But life wouldn't let you have it, and so, like being conscious of your actions, the blonde glanced back at you, which caused you to face away immediately. Jesus fucking Christ, could you be more obvious? "So thank you, again, and I hope you somehow enjoyed the experience"

"I certainly did, boss" She smirked friendly, going to the small platform in front part of the room and standing with arms on her back, legs slightly spareted. Why on earth was she so good looking? "I don't really mind the looks, after all there are dozens of people staring at the games and judging us all the time, so… Well, thank you too for inviting me, it was truly nice! Needing againg, I'm here for it!"

You felt a tap on your shoulder and looked to the side, Gloria was smirking like she knew something you didn't.

"You'll get your pages wet with all the drooling", she muttered.

"Wanna see who gets the pages wet?" You playfully put a hand on your own watter bottle, having her giggling.

"Well, let's begin, shall we?"

Einstein for sure had a point with relativity, because that class flew away like a lightning for you. The biggest pity of all, since Abby wouldn't be there after that day.

Once again you end up doing a main drawing of her body, using the remaining time to put some doodles of her face around it. It was like this for every class, different than the ones she wasn't the model. However, by that time you were already used to sketching her - hence the alone sessions in your room - so you could do much easier work now. You hoped no one noticed this fact, because a question about how you got so instinctive when drawing Abby would be blatantly dodged.

You already could tell in detail the difference between her arm muscles and the last model, for example, but not only the imagery of it: you thought about the biological singularity of her muscle development.

As soon as the class ended, you closed the sketchbook and tried not to think too deeply about the whole situation. It would be fine. Abby would stop being the model and so you would see her less, consequently thinking about her less and moving on so easily. Like, so easily.

"Hey", you froze with her voice, more specifically when noticing that it was almost next to you. Her face was the first thing you saw when looking up from your backpack. "Are you coming to the game tonight?"

"Should I?"

"Well… I could use some cheers", she was still shirtless. Heck, she was still in her intimate clothes.

You were not thinking about how she used a simple bra and nice black boxers.

"I thought you had plenty. With all the staring", why were you being so sarcastic?

"Your staring is kinda different, if that's what you wanna hear", she smirked, crossing her arms. Good lord, save me from barking in front of her with all this attitude. "And I would like you there"

"So maybe I'll go", you shrugged, trying to be cool about it. Something inside of you said that maybe you were being too cool about it, maybe she would think you don't really care; that's not what you want her to think. Shit, were you doing this wrong?

"Don't tell your brother I asked you this while almost nude, I don't think he would let me get close to you ever again", her chuckles were so cute, she was so cute. You were so done.

"Oh, do you want to get close to me again?" Abby stepped back while still smirking, everybody seemed to be out already - though you couldn't tell exactly, she was still your main focus.

"Maybe" Now she shrugged, finally getting close to her clothes again. "Preferably when he's not around"

What was that? Oh, probably your heart skipping several beats.

"Talking like that, I might as well think you're hitting on me, Abby" The most surprising thing was how you weren't laying down on a puddle at this point. Instead, you were chuckling back, hands sweaty and stomach twisting in a rush.

"Am I?" She grabbed her pants. "You'll probably have to come to the game and see!"

After another smirk from her, you just shook your head and walked away from the room with a simple "See you later then".

The interaction started to play again in your mind, Gloria was standing outside with wide eyes and a smile fighting to appear. That adrenaline rush made your mind a whirlwind.

"What the fuck was that?!" Your friend whispered, holding your arm and following your steps.

[png dividers by @cafekitsune]

[desperateknot]

A bit cringy, but I will do it again.

Swap Ishqueg/LCB Queequeg AU.

Seven Assoc. South Section 4 ID uptie story:

Heathcliff: So, you see, if it was the doing of a high level member of a Finger, there is nothing we can do. A shame, really, since they promised to pay so much for the post-contract management...Hey are you even listening?

The other child doesn't even lift her face from the paper to respond.

She took another sip of the coffee, totally absorbed by the details of this new case.

She indeed didn't hear a word of what her senior said.

Queequeg: Hmm no.

She spoke slowly, but with confidence.

Queequeg: Not the Middle. This one. Copy cat.

A rare smile formed at the corner of her lips. It is truly unusual for her to be in such high spirit.

Heathcliff: What? Are you sure?

Queequeg: Sure.

Queequeg: Get uniform. We go now.

Queequeg: Get him before the Middle...For his sake too.

Confused and a bit angry, but the other child did oblige.

He decided to have faith in her deduction, after all, when the Director of South Section 6 transferred her to their department, she said.

Outis: She might be frugal with her words, but do heed them. Her insight will undoubtedly prove to be valuable.

It's totally not because he wants that bonus, no.

Either way, he believes there must be a good reason for someone like her to be accepted among their ranks.

Queequeg: Lucky you.

The culprit: Mocking me now? You caught me. What is lucky about that?

Indeed. In contrast to this child's, the body of the man at the other end of her sword has not even a speck of tattoo. He is really not a member of the Middle.

Queequeg: The Middle's retribution would not have been...

With a simple motion, she pierced her sword through the man's stomach.

Queequeg: So swift and merciful.

Queequeg: Impersonating Big Brother. Grave sin.

The child let out a long sigh. And the melancholy returned to her again.

She could never truly escape them. The Middle never forgets.

However, if her knowledge about them could be of use, she would not hesitate to leverage it to live her new life.

That is the least she could do. That is the least she could have done to fulfill her end of the promise made under the setting sun.

Heathcliff: Uh...so there seems to be a really good restaurant near here-

Queequeg: No. I go back now.

Heathcliff: Huh? Aren't you hungry?

It seems like the other child's attempt at consolation flew right over his junior's head.

Queequeg: Miss Faust's tea already. Coffee...yucky.

Personal notes:

The anatomy here is kind of...atrocious. At first, I even got her eye colour, which I hastily fixed in this version. Well, my anatomy from newer pieces is still terrible, but not as terrible, I guess.

You may notice that I am not a native English speaker, so the way I phrased things and wrote things is a bit weird. I'm not good at writing in my native tongue either. I say I'm bilingual, but I'm actually just illiterate in two different languages.

This is not my proudest work, but I do still like the idea a lot.

I first thought of the idea of Seven Association Fixer Queequeg because I want to give her glasses, as I like to do with every of my favourite characters, but then I realised she would probably be good at investigating crimes (like murders) because she did some before? Especially crimes related to the Fingers. Her personal experiences would be helpful, I think.

[vnamps]

THE GRADE AID. 002

prev . | next

overall summary: lee min-ho, your absolute academic rival, an absolute menace needs help to raise his grade before the semester ends, and who better to ask for help than you, the grade aid.

overall contents: minho is cocky, a bunch of teasing, angst, fights, mentions of injuries, good ending, lowercase

The walls of the school building made the sounds your shoes created echo as you walked through the hallways. The school was over, and the only remaining students were in the different clubs and practicing club activities. After school was a calming time for you as you could always find yourself able to work on your hobbies in peace, like art. 

Art was something you had a big passion for, something you wanted to further explore but never had the chance to because of your family's financial situation. At this school, students were able to do what they’d like after school so long as it was appropriate which was amazing for you as you had free access to the one thing you loved very much, the one thing you took more seriously than your studies.

As you walked into the room, it appeared empty as you sat down by an easel containing the unfinished artwork you’d been working on for the past few weeks, frowning as your mind felt fuzzed on what to add next. 

“that looks nice” a voice spoke from behind you. It startled you as you turned around to see another student. He was tall and had long brunette hair that stopped before his shoulders. 

You nodded slowly, turning back around before sighing. “It’s missing something, I can’t figure out what though..” your voice trailed off as you began to think, his voice taking you out of a trance.

“Art block?” was a simple phrase, one that you related to all too well, one that caused you to nod once again. 

“It shouldn’t be much of a problem, maybe a good night's rest help you. Also, aren’t you a part of the student body? What are you doing in the art room at this time?”

“I needed to get my mind off something..”

He nodded again, taking in a chair next to you, implying that you should continue. You shouldn’t rant to a total stranger who indeed knew who you were but if it weren’t for that stranger you’d have no one. 

“do you know Lee Minho?” it was a stupid question really, anyone who attended the school knew the menace, even without him knowing them. 

The boy in front of you gave a small smile, nodding. “He’s..something” you hum in agreement, letting out a sigh before looking at your failure of a painting. “It’s just- he has… everything…  a good lifestyle, a stable one at that… he’s wealthy, people like him. I don’t- I don’t get why he’d wanna take the one good thing I have going for me, my stardom” 

He nods in understanding as you rant. “Maybe he’s jealous of you?”  

“Me? Why would he ever be jealous of me? He already has people who like him for who he is, I don’t.” 

The boy lets out a small breath, leaning it just an inch before grinning “I like you for who you are, you’re not very much like those other students”

“So you say… what’s your name?” 

“Y/n L/n”  

“Hwang Hyunjin, you?”

Minho sits at the table, a cup of coffee in his hands as he lets out a frustrated sigh. “You don’t get it Jisung. They‘re taking away all I have”  Jisung looks attentively at the set of notes you had given Minho before looking up at the older boy with worry in his eyes. 

“How are they taking it from you, this amount of notes is insane, something you haven’t done.” Jisung questions, his eyes in disbelief.

“That’s the problem. Before they came, everyone paid attention to me. My father says if I can’t have a small school full of undeveloped teenagers' respect, how can I have the respect of the entire world.”

Jisung sighs “I don’t think it’s that deep. Besides, y/n comes from a small family who doesn’t have all of our luxuries. Wouldn’t it be fine to let them have this one small thing?”

“No. It’s not fine. I can’t have some- random person take away something I’ve worked hard for. They need to stop.” Minho stares into space, his head clouded in thought. 

Jisung glances over at Jeongin, looking at him with pleading eyes.  Jeongin looks up from his book, scoffing at the older two. 

“What am I meant to do? Tell him to date y/n and convince them to let him be top at everything?” 

Minhos eyes widened at that, a slight “ha” leaving his mouth as Jeongin looked at him, a slight regret in his eyes. 

“No no no, don’t think about doing that, it isn’t fair.” Jisung says, trying to talk him out of it.

“Since when was I fair?”

taglist :

@palindrome969 @rpwplost @valkyriexo @intrikatie @brainrotahahaha @turtledove824 @itzzyyyyyyydaaaa @ashxxgyu @linosalwayslinos 

[1moreff-creator]

hello my friend 1moreff-creator. today i was rewatching your vivisection of LGI video and came up with a related theory. it's about "subtract four due to tetraphobia."

arei is roman numeral 4. ace has phobias. could "subtract 4 due to tetraphobia" just be code for "ace subtracted arei due to his phobia of dying in the killing game?"

is it possible that it's literally that simple or do you think the surrounding context implies it has to mean something else

Hello my friend accirax. That's a pretty good interpretation! It's true that "subtract 4 due to tetraphobia" could mean "kill IV (Arei) due to fear" for the reasons you stated, and the theory holds up really well...

In a vacuum.

But like you mentioned, the surrounding context is an issue. Because the phrase itself is relatively innocent, but the problem has always been when it shows up more than anything else.

There are many places where your interpretation could fit perfectly. There's Teruko's numeral, as the number 4's connection to death makes it an unlucky number, and Teruko is Teruko. There's the whole section around Min's numeral, which references class trials and thus could be connected that way. Ace's numeral could have been a bit too spoilery, but it would technically work. And of course, the most obvious place to put it would have been next to Arei's numeral itself. And there's probably more places to put it, that's just the ones closest to the actual placement of the tetraphobia line.

But alas, "subtract 4 due to tetraphobia" isn't in any of those places. It appears here:

[Literature Girl Insane] XIV [Veronika]. Things like substance of the arts ["subtract 4, due to tetraphobia⁴" appears] XV [Whit]. Remaining ignorant, isn't that "happiness¹⁵"?

And... there's genuinely no clear connection to Arei's death here. Veronika and Whit both had nothing to do with it, "the substance of the arts" and the concept of "ignorance is bliss" don't connect in any clean way, and neither footnote really helps, as 4 just defines tetraphobia and 15 just talks about the origins of the "ignorance is bliss" concept. The color coding doesn't seem to help either, since despite what Tumblr makes it look due to the limited color range I have access to, none of the colors present in the scene can really be related to either Arei or Ace. If anything the fact most of the tetraphobia line is in pink just makes the Whit connection stronger. Hence the whole issue of 15 - 4 = 11 -> XI [Mai]. God is dead.

The connection between Arei and tetraphobia comes more from the fact that Arei has number IV in the first place, so I totally agree with you that the connection exists and that Arei was given that numeral explicitly to connect her to death, and I like the new connection you bring up of it specifically being death due to fear. But I don't think that means we can just hand wave away the context in which the tetraphobia line actually appears, especially when it's the only time two Roman numerals are on screen at the same time. It could mean nothing that it appears when it does, but it could also mean something, you know.

Alas, Whit has gotta take the allegations on this one, there's no way around it. Still, though, cool interpretation, thanks for sharing and thanks for the ask!

[smileycarat]

delulu thoughts: jun ver

so we all saw the trailer huh?

imagine that irl

well kinda, but more soft?

i do believe that jun would be more carefree with giving with his affection toward you

the switch between being friends to a relationship was pretty seamless between both of you

your friends only caught on that you had taken the next step was that you were both now exchanging kisses in greeting instead of the regular side hugs

jun is so sweet when it comes to take care of you

if he’s the first to wake up, expect there to be some sort of breakfast for you being made, whether or not it’s a piece of toast is not the question (it’s the thought that counts)

when you both began sleeping in the same bed long before you became a couple, you invested in a sleeping mask for him

you had the scare of a lifetime when you turned to your side and were face to face with him sleeping with his eyes open

immediately, the first thing you did the next day was buy a sleeping mask for him djdjkd

he just laughed at you

if you wear his shirts to bed, i can imagine him putting on an article of clothing of yours, no matter how it looks on him

he WILL strike a pose or two

he’s just so silly sometimes really

this man always knows how to make you laugh

i imagine him being the PERFECT wedding date

he will be the first to suggest matching outfits

will buy you that one accessory that you stared at a second too long without a doubt

he is nothing but a gentleman to all your relatives

the kids in the wedding LOVEEE HIM

he is not afraid to get his clothes dirty while he lets your younger cousins chase him across the field

always comes back to you though

sits as close as your chairs will allow during the dinner

and slow dances with you

you can bet all your money that everyone wants a dance with him (you’re proven right when even the bride asks for a dance with him) (he gives you one of these looks •_•)

he is totally the type to teach you phrases in languages that you don’t know

however, he does trick you with a few curse words here and there but that’s like a given with learning any language

one of my favorite things ever about jun is that despite how silly and goofy he can be, he is just so caring too??

i could see him being the type to stay up with you while you finish up on a paper, regardless of how tired he is from being in the dance studio

whenever he’s away for work, he always makes sure to bring you a souvenir from wherever he goes as well as his favorite snacks from that place

fans are familiar with you already because he’s not too worried about keeping your relationship a secret

i mean he has a picture of the two of you as his lock screen for goodness sake HAHA

when it comes to his turn for his speech after his members at an event, he keeps it simple with a “this is for you, i love you”

fans went CRAZYYY for the way he smiled at the camera (sheesh me too tho)

fans have had a few interactions with you when they run into you in public, and they always say how you’re so nice and how you would even offer to take a picture of them with jun

(jun was flabbergasted when fans then asked him if he could take a picture of them with you (he obvi happily did so, even suggested group selfie of all of you))

(the picture went viral)

on your birthday, he buys you the cutest small cake that is enough for the both of you

and he wakes you up by singing happy birthday as he carries the cake in

it becomes a tradition to begin birthdays with eating cake for breakfast together in bed

taglist:

@fandems @minmingsstuff

[janetbrown711]

Why Am I Like This?

Mikey gets really bored one day and decides to play with Raph's shiny new toy, despite being told several times not to, and breaks it.

Raph does not take this well.

Ao3 Link

Mikey was bored.

And not just regular, every day bored, nonono. This boredom was the mind-numbing and annoying type– the type that left you paralyzed and unable to think of anything to do, but Mikey had to do something.

He could practice with his nunchucks, but ever since he was downgraded to foam instead of wood, it just felt like a joke. Sure, he liked whirling it around, but Master Splinter always said this was supposed to be for self-defense, not fun, so playing around was strictly forbidden.

He could just reread his comics again, but while Splinter had gone for a scavenge recently, he didn’t bring Mikey anything of interest, other than those finger skateboard things. He’d already played with that thing to death, so that was also a total “no-go”.

Now, he could try and hang out with Leo or Raph or Donnie, but Donnie was busy trying to find a way to recharge lightbulbs, Leo was watching the second season of Space Heroes for the bajillionth time, and Raph was doing one-on-one practice with Splinter, so that wasn’t happening.

Mikey groaned, flopping his head into his pillow for the billionth time. “If only Leo liked a different, cooler show,” he sighed dramatically, before sitting up.

On the topic of “different” and “cooler”, Raph had been given a super special super cool still-in-box action figure of Aspara-Gus from Fantastic Four Food Groups. Mikey would’ve totally claimed it for himself, but he hadn’t heard Splinter call for him until Leo knocked on his door. From what the box claimed, it was supposed to light up and say up to six catchphrases! Mikey had been sooooo jealous, but Raph said he couldn’t play with it.

Wait– no. What he specifically said was, “Mikey, if you touch my Aspara-Gus, I’ll turn you into a pulp.” Classic Raph.

But– like… it wasn’t like he’d know. He was busy training with Master Splinter! Plus, he heard Raph open it up earlier, so it was practically begging to be played with!

Mikey grinned, hopping off his bed and bolting to Raph’s room, before opening his door all ninja-like and finding the bright green action figure sitting right on his bed next to a broken red car toy that was missing two doors.

Mikey practically had stars in his eyes as he admired the nearly mint condition of the doll, with its see-through green sparkly plastic and smooth edges. He giggled with excitement before pressing the little green button on its side.

“Eat your vegetables, kids!”

Mikey’s face felt flat and he tried again.

“You’re no match for the power of vitamin K!”

“Man, why does Raph even like that stupid comic,” Mikey muttered and gave it one last try.

“It’s Aspara-Gus to the res–” the phrase was cut off by a sudden, ear-piercing shriek.

“ACK!” Mikey immediately covered his ears, before getting the idea to try and smother it with Raph’s pillow. That it didn’t work well enough, the sound still splitting his skull. Out of desperation and panic, he sat on top of the pillow, which finally muted it enough so the pain stopped.

“Whew, that’s a relief,” Mikey wiped off non-existent sweat from his forehead. The ten-year-old continued sitting on the pillow until the faint ringing finally stopped, and he got off, picking up the figure again and–

Uh oh.

Apparently, sitting on pillows over action figures could cause their arms to break off. Who knew?

“Well… at least the toy was busted anyway…?” Mikey laughed nervously. He knew that totally wasn't gonna be good enough for Raph, though, and he'd totally flip when he found out.

“Okay, well– maybe I can fix it! Yeah! I just gotta pop that bad boy back on; it’ll be good as new,” Mikey picked up the action figure and arm and tried reconnecting the broken pieces, but alas, it wasn’t a simple “pop off”. Instead, the hinge had cracked into two and without both pieces being together and stable, there was no point attempting to reattach it.

Shin splints, he was totally screwed.

“Yeah, yeah, be right there, Leo,” Mikey heard Raph call from not too far, causing him to panic and hide the evidence under his brother’s pillow before booking into his room where he caught his breath. Once that was all in control, he put on his coolest, most calm-est and collected-est face he could manage and walked super, duper casually to the pit and sat next to Leo, catching only a casual and cool glance at Raph.

“Oh hey, Mikey! Whatcha been up to,” His eldest brother smiled.

“Ohhh, you knowww,” Mikey tried to wave him off, fidgeting with his knee pads anxiously.

“Oh, well, I was just waiting for Raph to start the new episode of Space Heroes, since it's his favorite and all,” Leo gave him a weird glance before turning back to the TV. “It’s the one where the Dr. Mindstrong goes back to his home planet and meets up with his–”

Leo rambled on for a little bit, which Mikey usually liked listening to, but right now he was way too on edge. He just kept glancing back to the hallway to their bedrooms and waiting for his inevitable doom.

“–smiles! He actually does! But Raph just likes it for the fight scene at the end, I dunno. What do you think?” Leo asked Mikey, who quickly tried to act like he had been paying attention.

“My favorite episode is still the one where the dude grows a beard and the vampires,” Mikey decided to say.

Leo laughed. “That’s my favorite too.”

“What can I say? I have imbeccable taste,” Mikey grinned nice and wide.

“It’s impeccable, Mikey,” Leo laughed more, which Mikey joined in to cover the fact he said that by mistake.

However, the laughter couldn’t last long, as there was a ground-shaking slam and angry stomping into the living-area as Raphael–

Oh frick–

“MIKEY!!!” Raph shouted, face almost as red as his mask.

“Eep! Save me, Leo!” Mikey jumped and ducked behind his eldest brother.

“Wha–? Raph, what did Mikey do?” Leo looked around all confused.

“Oh, I’ll tell you what the little punk did,” Raph growled, only getting closer and closer. “He broke my brand new Aspara-Gus!!!”

Leo gasped, turning to his brother. “You– you didn’t actually…?”

“I-it was an accident, I swear! I-I was just–” Mikey tried to defend himself, but didn’t get a chance as Raph practically tackled him and the two started wrestling.

“It was brand new, Mikey! Right outta the box and I told you–I told you you weren’t allowed to touch it!” Raph shouted at him, despite being inches away.

“It was already broken, man! I-It made a high-pitched screechy noise– I was trying to fix it!” Mikey pleaded tearfully, trying to kick his brother off of him, landing a hit right in the plastron that winded him.

Mikey would’ve scuttled away, but Raph managed to grip his arm tight and twisted it until Mikey was on his knees begging for him to stop.

“I always tell you not to touch my stuff! And you always do! Are you deaf or just a stupid, dumb little idiot?!” Raph growled and twisted tighter.

“I’m sorry, okay?! I-I didn’t mean to–! I just–”

“GOD– you just always do this! You’re just– you’re just so stupid and annoying and useless– why do we even keep you around when all you do is break our stuff–”

“Yame!” the commanding voice of Master Splinter rang from the dojo, and Raph instantly let go of Mikey’s arm, though kicked his shell and he fell completely to the ground. “What is the meaning of this?!”

“Mikey broke the brand new Aspara-Gus action figure you got me! And I specifically told ‘im he couldn’t play with it!” Raph accused.

“Michelangelo, is this true?” Splinter looked at him, eyebrows all down and serious like.

“I-I– I didn't mean to–”

“He never listens to me or anyone, Master Splinter! I told him not to! He's such a screw-up!” Raph interrupted him.

“Raphael– a word,” Splinter narrowed his eyes on his elder brother.

“What?! Me?! But it was Mikey wh–!”

“No ‘but's. Now.” He ordered, and Raph stormed angrily back into the dojo.

However, Splinter wasn’t finished, and gave Mikey a look too.

“We will talk later, Michelangelo,” He sighed heavily and followed the steps of his furious child.

Mikey knew he was already crying, but he wanted to cry even more now.

“Mikey… why did you break his Aspara-Gus?” Leo asked.

“I didn't mean to! I-I don't wanna be a screw-up! I-I don't wanna be me!” Mikey shouted.

Leo winced. “Mikey, you aren't a screw-up.”

“Yeah, you just don't know how to listen,” Donnie piped up near his “lab”.

“Donnie,” Leo whisper-yelled and gave the purple turtle a look.

“What?! I'm just trying to–”

“Yeah, well, just let me–”

“You're always the one to–”

“Well, maybe if you were actually ni–”

Mikey couldn't stand all this fighting. He needed to get out here– and not to his room; Splinter or Leo would find him there, and they'd tell him he messed up, and blah blah blah he was a big stupid screw up– which he already knew! He just– he didn't need to hear it. He didn't need any of this–

If he wanted to get away unnoticed, he needed to go now.

Mikey glanced around, seeing Leo and Donnie still arguing, and no sign of Raph and Splinter leaving the dojo any time soon. And so, using all the super quiet super ninja skills he knew, he made his way to the water and lowered himself down until he was completely and silently submerged. Calmly and carefully, Mikey fought the urge to cry even underwater, and swam far, far, far, far away.

So far away, in fact, that when Mikey finally emerged for air, he realized he didn't have a clue where he was.

“This is fine, this is a-okay,” Mikey told himself, finally pulling himself out of the water and onto the cold concrete path. He rolled onto his shell, exhaustion suddenly hitting him all at once.

“This… This is super fine. I wanted air, and now I’m getting it,” He sniffled a little, a dull pain in his chest growing sharper.

Raph thinks he’s useless. And annoying. And a screw-up.

Mikey doesn’t mean to. He loves his brothers and dad! He doesn’t mean to always be so distracted or impulsive or whatever. He swore he tried. He tried so, so, so hard to be good.

But he wasn’t. Again, and again, and again, Mikey wasn’t good. He broke things. He went too far. He didn’t pay attention. He didn’t listen.

His brothers could do all those with ease, even Raph. That had to mean something, right?

Of course it did. It meant Michelangelo was bad. He wasn’t really trying his best to be good because if he were, then he’d be good already. It wasn’t hard for his brothers, but it was hard for Mikey because Mikey was bad.

The tears were quick to return as Mikey picked himself up and started walking further into unknown parts of the sewers. He didn’t care if he was getting lost, he deserved it. He was a bad kid, just like Raph said, and they’d be better off without him.

They’d be better off without him.

.o0o.

Raph was angry.

He sat on his knees in the dojo, filled with rage, hot and heavy in his face and chest. It made his breathing heavy and fists curl in his lap as his head just swirled and swirled and swirled until–

“Raphael. I understand Michelangelo made you very upset by breaking your toy, and I’m very sorry that happened, but calling your brother a ‘screw-up’ will not go back and fix things,” Splinter said as he kneeled right in front of him.

Raph’s fists tightened. “I-I– it was brand new, Master Splinter– We never get new things a-and I just– I was so excited,” he confessed, his voice wavering.

Splinter smiled sadly. “I know, my son, I know. I am sorry I cannot provide such things more often, and I’m sorry Michelangelo broke it. I’m sure he feels absolutely terrible about it.”

A lump formed in Raph’s throat as he kept his eyes low and focused on his father’s knees. “But– he just– he doesn’t stop, a-and– and it just– it makes me so mad…”

Splinter nodded slowly. “Your anger is understandable, my son. Nobody likes to have their things destroyed, but that is not an excuse to make your brother feel worthless.”

Raph sniffled. “I– I didn’t… I didn’t actually mean to– I just– I get so mad,” he whispered, tears beginning to stream down his face right before he felt Master Splinter take him into his arms and hold him close.

“I know you are not a mean boy, Raphael. You have a very good heart that gets blinded by very strong and powerful emotions,” Splinter assured, wiping some of his tears away.

“I just– I-I can’t fight it– it’s like I can’t stop myself, I just– I want to hurt him, I want to hurt him so bad,” Raph wept into his father’s sleeve.

“But you don’t now, do you?” Splinter asked.

Raph shook his head. “I don’ wan’ him to hate me…”

His father laughed a little. “Michelangelo doesn’t hate you– I don't even believe he can. You know, you two have much more in common than you think.”

“But I can hate him. I-I can hate him a lot– does that make me bad?” Raph sniffled again.

“You don’t actually hate him, Raphael. If you did, you would not feel remorse for your actions,” His father assured, rubbing soothing circles on Raph’s shell.

Raph didn’t know what to say, looking back at the ground and resting his head on his father’s shoulder.

“Anger is an emotion that occurs in all living creatures, even myself. You are not wrong for feeling upset that something precious to you was harmed, but there are more productive ways to problem-solve than breaking your brother’s arm,” Splinter chuckled a little.

“... Like what?” Raph ventured to ask.

“Well… there is always breathing and meditation–”

“But it’s so boringgggg,” Raph interrupted.

Splinter laughed. “I know it is hard, but allowing yourself to feel and understand your emotions can help you rid yourself of all this confusion in your young mind,” he stroked the top of Raph’s head for emphasis.

“I-I guess…” Raph looked at his hands.

“Or perhaps you can try going to your room to separate yourself from the situation until you feel more in control of yourself. You could do things like draw or read comics or even scream into a pillow until you feel all better,” Splinter then suggested, which didn’t sound too bad, all things considered.

“I guess I can try that,” Raph shrugged a little, smiling a little when he heard his dad sigh a bit in relief.

“You are a good son, Raphael...”

“Thank you, Master Splinter,” Raph said, still not quite looking at him.

“... Which is why I know that you’ll apologize to Michelangelo as soon as possible, no?” Splinter asked, and Raph tensed a bit.

“I– yeah… I should…” he bit his lip and Splinter hugged him a little tighter before setting him down.

“Good,” He smiled at Raph softly, which Raph managed to return before they both stood and went to the dojo doors, where Splinter opened to find Leo and Donnie arguing about something by themselves.

“Leonardo, Donatello– where is Michelangelo?” Splinter looked left and right as he stepped out in the living space.

Leo stopped arguing and looked around. “I– wasn’t he right here?” he asked Donnie.

“I thought so?” His purple brother shrugged.

The confusion made a knot tie in Raph’s stomach, especially when he saw how it made Splinter’s eyebrows grow close and wrinkly before he shook his head.

“Perhaps he has just gone to rest in his room. I’ll go check on him,” Splinter patted Raph’s head before speed walking to the bedrooms.

Raph could feel his brother’s eyes, the second Splinter was gone, which only made the knot tighten. “You got a problem?”

Donnie backed up. “Me? No. We just– umm…”

Leo wasn’t as much of a scaredy-cat, though, looking at Raph and asking, “Are you okay?”

Raph rolled his eyes. “M’fine, it was just a stupid toy.”

“Of your favorite comic book character,” Donnie pointed out.

“Yeah…” Raph kicked the ground a bit. “But I– I went too far, like always…”

Leo smiled a little. “I’m sure Mikey’ll forgive you.”

Raph stayed quiet.

Splinter came back in not too long, looking around frantically as his eyebrows just got more and more scrunched together with worry.

“Master Splinter?” Leo spoke up. “What’s wrong?”

“I–” Their father stopped himself, taking a deep breath. “Is there anywhere around the lair your brother could possibly be hiding?”

Leo, Donnie and Raph all looked at each other nervously.

Donnie was the first to suggest, “Maybe he’s in the bathroom?”

Splinter shook his head. “I’ve already checked there. Anywhere else?”

Leo bit his cheek. “Maybe under his bed?”

Their father shook his head again.

Donnie suddenly snapped his fingers. “He likes hiding in the kitchen cupboards sometimes!”

Splinter sighed heavily. “I’m afraid I have already checked there as well.”

The knot in Raph’s stomach tightened. “S-so he’s…?”

“I will go out to find him. You three stay here. I will be back soon,” Splinter decided, finally stepping down into the pit, where they hugged him tight.

“Is Mikey gonna be okay, Master Splinter?” Leo asked.

“Of course, my son,” Splinter assured, patting the eldest brother’s head, but Raph could tell he was lying by the tension in his hands.

The hug broke, and the turtles watched as Splinter went to the turnstiles, but stopped right before he would’ve disappeared into the endless tunnel systems.

“I will be back soon, my sons, do not worry. Stay safe,” He smiled at each of them (especially Raph) before he turned and disappeared into the darkness.

Leo and Donnie both hesitated, but sat back on the couch, meanwhile Raph couldn’t help but pace around the pit.

“Why would Mikey just run off like that? He’s never done that before,” Leo looked at Donnie.

“I don’t know, it’s really not like him. He's always been so afraid of the outside, it doesn't make sense,” Donnie shrugged, but Raph just rolled his eyes.

“You two have got to stop pretending this isn’t allmy fault,” He snipped, and both brother’s eyes turned to him.

Leo stood. “Raph–”

“Stop!!!” Raph shouted. “I hurt him! Because of a stupid toy! And called him useless and a screw-up a-and–” Raph internally cursed himself as he felt tears start to form in the corners of his eyes once more.

“Splinter will find him, Raph. It’ll be okay,” Leo smiled and tried placing a hand on his shoulder, but Raph brushed it off.

“I'm gonna go look for ‘im,” He announced, making his way to the water entrance.

“Raaaaaaph, Master Splinter said we need to stay here,” Donnie whined, looking around nervously.

Raph huffed and rolled his eyes. “Think of it this way: Master Splinter is going north, and I'm going south. One of us'll find him eventually.”

“You're leaving out east and west,” Donnie looked unconvinced.

“Whatever. If you two wanna do that, be my guest. I'm going out,” Raph went to jump, but Leo suddenly grabbed his arm.

“Raph, Splinter doesn't need us running away right now,” Leo pleaded, and Raph snagged his arm away.

“Stay here then, for all I care. We'll see who really finds Mikey,” He glared before diving in and swimming away.

.o0o.

Mikey was cold.

Of course, he usually was after swimming around and stuff, but there were also a lot more grates outside the lair than inside.

He wished he could reach them. That he could stick his fingers through and feel the fresh night– or catch a cigarette butt, more likely.

Then again, who needed to reach for cigarette butts when they could just fall on your head?

Mikey had dusted off five butts before he just decided to keep moving past the grates.

Probably the smartest thing he did all day.

Mikey sighed and hugged his arms. He had no idea where he was anymore, and there was still a voice in his head telling how stupid he was for getting himself lost, but he was just so tired of it. He already knew he was an idiot, no need for reminders.

Besides, it was his goal, right? He wanted to run away so he'd stop ruining everything for his brothers and Splinter.

He was a screw-up. This plan probably wouldn't work, and he'd get his dad worried to death about him because he was a stupid crybaby.

… He wished he could go back. He didn't actually want to run away. He missed his brothers– he missed his Papa– he was so, so cold.

The answer for the chilly temperature suddenly appeared when after Mikey rounded a corner, he saw a massive stormwater outlet that–

Woah…

A bitter, cold breeze stung through, but Mikey didn't care, approaching the view of the sparkling lights of the city off of… a river? The ocean? Whatever it was, it was a lot of water and Mikey was mesmerized. Trees were also visible, though most were missing their leaves since it was late November. Mikey didn't mind that, though, as it was still one of the prettiest things he had ever seen.

He didn't deserve such a pretty thing. He'd probably ruin it somehow. Maybe he'd blurt something out, and it would make all the animals scared or angry, and then they'd try to attack him. Or maybe a human would find him, and then he'd get experimented on, like in alien comics.

Mikey's head ached, and so despite his want to leave, he decided to sit there and rest awhile.

He got roughly five seconds of peace before his stomach growled painfully.

“Man, all that swimming really got me hungry, eh?” He joked to no one, hoping it would make it hurt less.

It didn't.

The ten-year-old closed his eyes, trying not to imagine how worried Splinter would be and the lecture he’d get for being all stupid and impulsive despite being told many, many times to just use his stupid head.

Another gust of cold wind blew by, causing Mikey to shudder. He wished he had a blanket or something with him, but then again it would’ve gotten totally soaked, and he would’ve ruined a perfectly nice blanket that Master Splinter worked so hard to get for them.

He would do just about anything in the world to swap brains with Donnie, or Leo, or even Raph.

His brothers were the coolest people in the world, even if they could be a bit mean. Leo was so nice and always picked up any moves Splinter taught the fastest. Donnie was super good at math and stuff and was always working on super sciencey stuff that had Mikey convinced he should win an award or something. And sure, Raph had his anger issues, but he could fight the best out of all four of them, and Mikey wished he could be half as cool as him.

But he wasn’t. He was just stupid, annoying, useless, little screw-up Mikey who couldn’t listen or sit still or focus or remember anything.

… He wasn’t surprised when he noticed himself crying.

He opened his eyes again, surprised to find a beetle crawling up one of the pipes of the outlet.

“Hi, Mr. Beetle. I’m Michelangelo,” he joked, holding out a finger that the bug didn’t climb onto.

“Ah, you don’t wanna be my friend? It’s okay, I wouldn’t be my friend either,” He smiled as he felt tears start to rush.

“S-see– I’m a big jerk. I break my brother’s toys, a-and I don’t sit still or stop makin’ annoying noises, even when they ask all nicely,” the ten-year-old wiped his eyes and sniffled. “Master Splinter says it isn’t my fault– b-but I know he’s just being nice. Raph’s right, I’m just a big screw-up and a jerk, too.”

The beetle twitched its wings a little, making Mikey laugh a little again.

“I’m probably annoying you right now, too. I bet you got a family nearby, and I’m keeping you away from ‘em. M’sorry, Mr. Beetle,” Mikey’s lower lip trembled as his stomach rumbled yet again.

“Say, you– uh… wouldn’t have some food on you, would you?” he joked, but the beetle flew away, causing the boy to break into sobs.

“M’so sorry, Raph,” he whispered to himself, hugging his knees to his chest. “I don’t mean to be bad. I just can’t stop. I know I’m a failure, I just– I wanna be good so bad, but I can’t, I just can’t.”

He let himself break into sobs as more wind rushed by, causing Mikey to instinctively curl tighter as he felt himself start to shut down into sleep– which was weird because it wouldn’t be bedtime for three more hours.

Maybe it was just all the crying like a baby he was doing. He was weak like that.

“M’sorry I don’t listen, Papa– I really wanted to, b-but I can’t– I’m not good like them. I know you tried– m’so, so sorry,” He sobbed further, fully leaning into the circle so he faced the bars.

The sky looked so pretty as snowflakes began to fall, making Mikey feel like he was almost in a snow globe.

Mikey took a long breath, feeling sleep slowly but surely overcome him as all he could focus on was the glittering skylights, his hunger, and how he already missed his family more than anything.

“I’ll go back soon, I just gotta–” Mikey yawned– “take a little nap first…”

Mikey yawned, curling tighter as with this rush of air he fell into a deep, deep, deep sleep.

.o0o.

Raph was getting nervous.

Looking for Mikey was harder than he had expected, but his guilt kept him moving on despite the ever-growing feeling he was starting to get lost…

“You owe Mikey to find him, Raph. Just keep moving,” He told himself just as bits and pieces of a sandwich that had been dropped fell on his head.

“Man, I hate being in the sewers alone,” Raph muttered, wiping the mayo-soaked lettuce bits and a tomato off his head while also avoiding stepping on a broken phone and what looked like a (thankfully) squashed cockroach. Of course, this was entirely his own fault, but this was a good thing; he was taking responsibility for his actions, just like Master Splinter always told him he should. And he was!

Sure, it was also against Splinter’s direct instructions not to leave their lair, but it was also following his instructions to apologize to Mikey as soon as possible! Yes, yes, truly the most flawless logic turtle-kind had ever known.

Raph was just glad Donnie wasn’t here to rub that in.

The boy walked for what felt like forever, when he noticed a sudden temperature drop that had him shuddering and rubbing his arms.

“Jeez– someone got an evil snow cone machine going wild?” He grumbled, referencing one of his comics.

As he got closer, he realized he could hear wind blowing fiercely from what had to be more than just the regular sewer grate. As he turned the corner, he could see that yep, it was a stormwater outlet and–

“MIKEY-!” Raph cried, rushing to his brother’s side, startled to find him asleep.

“Mikey?! Mikey, wake up! What’s wrong with you?” Raph asked, panicking more and more by the second.

“Ughhh… Raph?” Mikey mumbled, barely cracking an eye open.

“Why are you so tired? You hate bedtime!” Raph pointed out, before shaking his head. “Sorry, I’m not– Look, I came here to say–”

“M’tired… talk soon,” Mikey clicked his tongue weakly before his eyes closed again.

“What?! Mikey, you jerk wad! I was apologizing!” Raph growled and shook his brother, but it did nothing to wake him.

Alarms triggered in his head as he tried shaking his brother again, but nothing happened.

“M-Mikey…? Mikey, you’re okay, right?” Raph looked around for any signs of danger or trouble, but couldn’t find anything other than the picturesque night sky and snowfall.

“Woah…” Raph momentarily forgot his panic to admire it, since Master Splinter not only said they were super banned from going outside, but they were double banned from snow because they could accidentally trigger hibern–

Oh no.

“Shoot– Mikey! You know we’re not allowed to–” Raph kicked himself mentally as he realized he was already falling through on his promise. “Look– you’re gonna be okay, okay, Mikey? I just gotta– um…” Raph looked around for anything that would be remotely warm but was just met with moss covered walls, and was it just him or were there suddenly a lot more bugs around here than there were before?

However, he figured just getting his brother away from the drain would get him warmer, and so stood up and tried slinking Mikey on his back as much as possible.

“It’s okay Mikey, I’ll get you back safe and warm in the lair, I promise,” Raph bit his cheek as he struggled readjusting his brother on his shell before starting to walk off.

It certainly wasn’t easy though. While Raph was older and a little bigger, it wasn't enough to make this a breeze. Plus, Mikey wasn’t even trying to support himself since he was all tired and stuff. To make up for it, Raph had to take big, long steps that didn’t always mesh well with the algae, garbage and bug-covered sewers.

However, he promptly halted when he finally reached the remnants of that sandwich that got dropped on his head, which now had a humongous pile of cockroaches on it.

“Gross gross gross gross–” Raph gagged, taking a frantic step back and almost dropping Mikey in the process. He looked around nervously to see if there was some other way he could get to the lair, but that rapidly proved itself to be a waste, as more and more disgusting pests were gathering by the second, and no amount of will power summoned an alternate path.

“M-Master Splinter? Can you hear me?” Raph called, desperate to get out of here already.

He looked at the bugs again and took another instinctive step back. “D-Dad, I really, really hate bugs, I don’t wanna do this,” he felt tears threaten to fall, which just made him more angry at himself. He was trying to save Mikey from accidentally falling asleep for the next three months, he did not need to be acting like a baby!

“Okay, Raph, y-you got this– you can save Mikey, I believe in you,” He told himself, taking a careful and calculated step forward, and a wave of nausea hit that made him want to turn and puke.

But he couldn't! He was a turtle on a mission here! He couldn’t get sick on Mikey now– especially because the drain wasn't too far and that grate was channeling pretty strong winds– If Raph stayed for too long then he’d get all sleepy too and Master Splinter would be double disappointed.

“Alright, guess I’ll just…” Raph mentally prepared himself, stepping one foot at a time at a very slow pace– until the fourth step, where he definitely stepped on a bug, and he completely froze. His instincts were completely useless as he felt two more try to crawl on his leg, causing him to instantly book it as fast as he could.

“Ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew–” He kept whispering to himself before he suddenly slipped on the mossy floor and he and Mikey fell into the sewer water.

He completely lost all contact with his brother as he fumbled around in the current, and it took a solid minute before he could get his head clear and broke for the surface.

���MIKEY!” He called, looking around for his brother, but not finding him.

He dove back underwater with urgency and found his little brother beginning to sink. With a grunt of determination, Raph swam with all his might to grab his arms and drag his still cold body to the surface.

“R-Raph?” Mikey croaked between coughs.

“MIKEY!” Raph hugged his brother tight. “Mikey, it’s okay! We’ll be back home soon, I promise,” he assured, and Mikey chuckled weakly.

“You really do care, you big sap,” His little brother smiled weakly.

“Shut up or I'll let you drown,” Raph tried acting tough again, but Mikey's exhaustion made him hard to threaten. “Whatever. Just wrap your arms around my neck, I’ll swim us both home,” Raph grunted, and Mikey thankfully did as he was told.

It took a frustratingly long time to get back to the lair– so long that Mikey had already fallen back asleep by the time Raph recognized his surroundings. It made him nervous, but Raph wasn't going to crack now that he was so close.

“Alright, Mikey, just under here real quick,” Raph glanced at the wall that mostly separated their lair from the sewer system before dunking his brother under and quickly pulling him up on the other side with minimal bonking.

“We made it, Mikey! C’mon– we gotta tell Leo and Donnie so we can–” Raph looked up and found Splinter standing right at the edge of the pool, with Leo and Donnie standing nervously behind him.

“H-hi dad,” Raph looked down at his murky reflection.

“Raphael, I specifically told you–” Splinter was about to reprimand, but his eyes landed on Mikey and worry immediately overrode his anger.

“Bring him over,” Splinter ordered Raph, and of course he obeyed. He watched as Splinter took his youngest brother in his arms and set him down on the couch, placing an ear on his chest.

“His heart is slow. Raphael, what happened? Was there a fight? Was he injured at all?” His father asked. Raph shook his head, getting out of the water and joining Leo and Donnie as spectators.

Splinter frowned, placing a hand on Mikey’s forehead and flinching. “Donatello, warm up a heat pack from your lab.”

“Hai, sensei,” Donnie said, and he was gone in a flash.

Leo looked at Donnie for only a moment before his eyes went right back to Mikey. “Is he gonna be okay, dad?”

Splinter nodded slowly. “He should be okay, he’s just a little cold, is all.”

“Oh! I can get him his blanket!” Leo immediately offered.

“Good idea, Leonardo,” Splinter approved, and before he knew it, Leo was gone too, leaving Raph alone with his dad.

Raph’s heart was pounding in his chest, as he was pretty sure Splinter knew just as well as he did this was all his fault, and he wondered what kind of grounding he’d get this time.

His anxiety certainly wasn’t helped when Splinter suddenly asked, “How did this happen, Raphael?”

Raph gulped. “I found ‘im by a stormwater drain, asleep. I think he was watching the snow or something and just kinda passed out, so...”

“I see,” his father replied, stroking Mikey’s head and taking off his soaked orange mask. “I should have known he would have gone to the water; he’s always been so afraid of subway cars,” he laughed a little sadly.

“It’s not your fault, dad, it’s–” Raph frowned as Leo ran in with the blanket.

“Found it, Master Splinter!” Leo called before handing it to their father all nice and folded.

“Thank you, Leonardo,” Splinter nodded in approval before unfolding it and draping it on the still-napping Mikey.

“Is there anything else I can do?” Leo asked in that eager way he always did.

“No, we do not want to overwhelm him or his body. We just want enough to wake him up at his own pace,” Splinter explained, and Leo nodded, taking a step back to join Raph.

A moment after that, Donnie emerged too with the practically steaming bag of dry rice, which Splinter thanked him too before placing it on his forehead.

“There. That should do it for now,” Splinter nodded to himself, stroking Mikey’s left arm a bit before finally allowing himself to sit on the couch next to him.

Nobody said anything for a while, most everyone’s eyes focused on Mikey except Raph, who kept watching his father. He was waiting to receive his scolding for running away and almost getting Mikey knocked out for months. However, the more he stared, the more it seemed like it wasn't going to happen, and after a couple minutes, Raph couldn’t take it anymore.

“Master Splinter, I’m real sorry I ran away, but I knew it was all my fault– I mean, you know how much I hurt him and his arm– so it was totally my fault! I had to make it right, and I knew that if I didn’t find him, you would, so I figured it really wouldn’t hurt! Plus, you told me I needed to apologize to him as soon as possible, so technically I wasn’t really disobeying you– but I know I really was, and–”

“Raphael,” Splinter cut off his rambles with a soft look. “I am not mad at you. If anything, I am relieved you found him because if it were not for you, I do not think his condition would be fixed so easily.”

“You don’t… know that, though,” Raph kicked the ground.

Donnie raised an eyebrow. “Of course he knows that. Hibernation takes several hours to fully take hold in a turtle, and if Master Splinter had spent all night looking for Mikey he would have certainly been too late and Mikey would spend the next several months practically asleep.”

“Donnie!” Leo punched his arm.

“What? It’s just science!” Donnie defended his rather blunt word choice.

“It’s alright, Leonardo, Donatello is correct,” Their father assured, looking again at Raph. “What you did was very risky, and not something I want to become a habit… but you did very well, Raphael.”

“Not really, Master Splinter. When we ran into a ton of cockroaches, I totally freaked out and dropped Mikey into the water,” Raph confessed and Donnie laughed a little, getting him a quick glare that shut him right up.

“Ahh, but don’t you see? When faced between your fears or bringing your brother to safety, you chose very bravely,” Splinter placed a hand on Raph’s shoulder.

“Thank you, sensei,” Raph bowed and Splinter chuckled and stroked the top of his head a little.

Right then there was a little cough, followed by a groan, followed by a– “Raph? Papa? What’s goin’ on?” from Mikey.

“You are back home, my son,” Splinter quickly turned his attention to his youngest, holding his hand. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired n’ warm,” Mikey yawned.

Splinter smiled a little. “Of course. It is rather late, after all, so the four of you should go to bed.”

“Aww man, but I just slept a bunch,” Mikey whined.

“You need to gather your strength, my son. Do not worry, I will carry you to bed this one time,” Splinter teased Mikey a little since he was always asking to be carried. It seemed to work since Mikey immediately stopped protesting, and he was whisked away.

“You had Master Splinter really worried, you know,” Leo spoke up.

Raph rolled his eyes. “You heard him, I did something right for once.”

“You know what I mean, Raph. If you wanted to find him yourself, you should’ve at least tried to tell him before you left,” Leo crossed his arms.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. If you ever get lost in the sewers, I won’t come looking for you,” Raph pushed Leo away and headed to his room, hearing Leo sigh dramatically and choosing to ignore it as the door slammed closed behind him.

His broken action figure was still on his bed, but instead of angering Raph, it just made him feel… disappointed. Sure, it was partly due to the fact he had been so excited about it just earlier today, but now it was more like he was disappointed how angry he’d gotten. It was just some cheap plastic with a broken voice box, after all. It wasn’t worth making Mikey run away and almost freeze himself into hibernation.

Besides, he’d definitely still play with it. Sure, he would now be missing an arm, but most everyone’s toys were broken in some capacity, so maybe now the other toys wouldn’t get jealous. Not that toys could get jealous, but– whatever. Raph was exhausted.

And so, Raph set his newly broken Aspara-Gus up on the shelf, alongside his much older broken red car, and flopped onto his bed to try and think about sleep.

.o0o.

Mikey was as snug as a bug in a rug after his father tucked him nice and tight into his bed, making him feel like the specialist and also the stupidest kid in the whole world.

“Papa… I’m sorry I ran away. I wasn’t thinkin’, which I know I do a lot,” he looked away as Splinter checked his temperature with a thermometer.

“Don’t worry, Michelangelo, I am just grateful you are alright,” Splinter smiled kinda sadly.

“Still… I didn’t wanna scare you, I just– I always mess up, a-and I really don’t mean to! I try to stop, I really do, Papa, but I just can’t,” Mikey confessed, face red with shame.

The thermometer beeped, but Splinter didn’t even look at it before setting it aside and removing the heat pack from his forehead.

“You are a good son and brother, Michelangelo. Your weaknesses do not erasure your kind smile or your cuddly disposition or your humor. We are all very grateful you are a part of this family, and everyone– including Raphael– missed you terribly in your absence,” Splinter stroked Mikey’s cheek with his thumb.

“I know, but I still break things and don’t listen and stuff, which is still bad of me,” Mikey looked away.

“But that does not make you bad, Michelangelo,” Splinter said with certainty. “Everyone in this sewer has flaws– even myself.”

“Even you?” Mikey gawked.

Splinter chuckled and nodded. “I am not always the most rational mind and can be swift to punishment, but that does not mean I am cruel and unjust. It just means I have something to be aware of and work on.”

“Oooh… cool,” Mikey smiled a little at the thought of him and his papa having something in common.

Splinter laughed more. “It is getting late, my son. Be sure to rest up.”

The rat was going to go, but Mikey grabbed his hand. “Do you have to goooooooooo?” He asked, putting on his best puppy dog eyes.

Splinter hummed happily and kissed his son’s head. “Maybe tomorrow night. I suspect someone else will want to talk to you tonight.”

“Who?” Mikey tilted his head.

“You’ll see,” Splinter patted his shoulder before turning out his light, causing Mikey’s glow-in-the-dark stars to shine. “Sweet dreams, Michelangelo.”

“G’night Papa!” Mikey gave a wide grin before Splinter nodded and closed the door.

Man, Mikey really was tired. But also not. He certainly wasn’t as tired as he’d felt by the stormwater drain, but all that swimming and walking and being all toasty definitely was doing a number on him.

However, before he could decide if he wanted to fall asleep or not, there was a knock at his door.

“Uh… come in?” Mikey said, unsure of who it could be, and startled when he saw it was Raph.

“Hi…” His older brother looked at the ground before he stepped in and closed the door behind him.

There was an awkward moment whether neither brother really knew what to say or how to say it. Instead, they both just looked around Mikey's disaster of a room, avoiding eye contact.

After a bit of this, Raph decided to break the silence with a, “I’m sorry I made you run away, Mikey. And for calling you a screw-up, and useless, and a punk, and a stupid, dumb idiot.”

Mikey laughed a little. “It’s okay, Raph. I already know I am.”

“No! You’re not useless! I said that just because I was mad,” Raph sat on Mikey’s bed urgently. “You’re like– the funniest brother and you give good hugs, which is nice when you want ‘em. That's totally useful!”

Mikey looked away. “You don’t gotta say that to me, Raph. I know I’m the weakest and the least patient and most distracted or whatever, I just gotta deal with it.”

“You know I’d save you if you ran away again, right? And that I– I don’t mean to always hurt you, right?” Raph asked, nervously picking at his nails.

“Aww, you big softie,” Mikey teased a little, and Raph rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah– I’m apologizing here, so do you wanna accept it or not?” He scoffed.

“I’m sorry I broke your toy, Raph. It started making this really loud noise and I panicked,” Mikey explained himself first.

Raph scoffed a bit. “Figures something had to be wrong with it… but still, I shouldn’t have hurt you like that.”

“I shouldn’t’ve broken your toy and run away, so I accept your apology,” Mikey gave his brother a crooked smile. “You accept mine?”

Raph laughed a little. “Yeah, you big baby,” he punched his brother’s arm a little, making Mikey laugh.

“Thanks for saving my life too, by the way. I could kinda hear you and I know it was pretty scary, so… yeah, thanks. You aren’t as angry as you think you are,” Mikey placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder.

Raph seemed a little shook by this, but he eventually just chuckled and shook his head. “Wasn’t a hard decision. Without you, this place is a total dump.”

“Still. Thanks,” Mikey tried to get through his thick skull.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Raph tried to keep playing it off, shaking Mikey’s arm off of him. Raph started to go, but Mikey grabbed his hand on impulse.

“Uh… yeah?” Raph looked at him confused, and Mikey cursed himself a bit.

“Sorry–! I just– um…” Mikey let go and started fidgeting with his blanket. “I was just wondering if you’d wanna– you know… sleepover?”

His elder brother paused, clearly debating it, making Mikey instantly feel bad.

“You don’t have to, though! It was a stupid idea, I mean– we aren’t five anymore, so you can say n–”

“Sure, why not?” Raph shrugged all nonchalantly, and Mikey felt relief flood his body.

“Cool!” Mikey beamed, scooting aside to make room for his older brother, whom he immediately cuddled against the moment he was settled.

“Jeez, Mikey– you ever heard of personal space?” Raph quipped, but Mikey knew he didn’t mean it. If he had, he would’ve pushed him away or moved off the bed.

But nope, Raph stayed right next to Mikey for the entire night, and Mikey wouldn’t have had it any other way.

[claralouvette]

Quirkless! Single Mother X Keigo Takami/ Hawks

💝Proof reading Complete! (new phrases added!)

Synopsis💞

He was the Boss of an Agency. Hold on, lemme just reiterate that. He is your Boss and your his assistant.

──●◎●──

Info

💌Female Reader age: 24

💌Keigo Takami age: 25

Part 2 (complete) Masterlist

��He was the Boss of an Agency. Hold on, lemme just reiterate that. He is your Boss and your his assistant. When you first met, he expected you to Fangirl , but you didn't. He felt your extraordinary determination to work at this agency. Of course, this is one of the top agencies where you could get the best salary, so who wouldn't want to work here.

  🧡 On your First day, papers filled your table, the phone rang the whole room, and the email pings were everywhere. Hawks was testing you. Whether you are up for the job or not, it's a natural routine. I mean, last week, you were reeking of determination to have the job, and now, you must have the will power be a worthy person for the position.

Beginning the day, you started your task filled with doubt and unsureness, mediocre at best, quirkless, and clumsy. He was ready to fire you at the end of the day. Lunch break came, and you were exhausted. "Welp, Im grabbing lunch; good work!" he said as he flew off the balcony, leaving you alone in his office.

  🧡 Lunch break, alone in the office, you sat down at your desk and pulled out your small, relatively simple bento box. Proceeding to eat it in silence while scrolling through your phone. "I can do this. I'm gonna make her proud and make my family happy". You said, motivating yourself while staring at a picture of you and your daughter. The lunch break nears its end, and your ready to face the inevitable. Sure, you started off awkwardly. You were surprised that this agency accepted you despite the many more applicable fitting applicants. It reminded you of some schools where the entrance exams were easy as pie, but good luck getting out of the school with a diploma. This agency totally has that vibe.

Hanks returns just in Time to start working again. To Hawks's disbelief, He thought you were a different person because of how well you manage things, full of confidence and professionality. That my folks just made him intrigue to you more.

  🧡 Days and months go by. You are the most stern person he met, so strict on schedules and meetings that he thoughts you are his Boss now. You were just doing your job. Right now, he is running late for an interview. You told him to meet you at the front of his agency. Furious, you took the elevator back up to his office. Upon reaching the door, you knocked. "Hawks, you are late for an interview " No reply. You knocked, no response again. That's it, you opened the door, and he is night there..... dancing? No more bopping his head and listening to music via headphones. Feeling the vibration from his wings, he immediately looked towards the door. Seeing you, he realized his mistake immediately removed his headphones, faintly letting out a familiar tune, "Your late for an interview was all you just said, he chuckled. "Got lost track of time, I guess," he awkwardly said.

🧡The music he was listening to was your own song covers. When you discover that he listens to your cover, you internally panic. "You listen to that?" you asked. "Oh yeah, do you know her too? -"You cut him off by saying, "Her voice is too cringe" " Then let me hear you try." he said, smirking. Thankfully, He doesn't know it is you who runs that channel.

🧡 Time has passed, and your relationship with him took a more friendly turn, although you are still strict towards him, especially on his schedule. Aww, c'mon dove, you know the traffic can't stop me. I can Fly us there!" he tried to convince you. "Are you serious? Have you forgotten that I am quirkless??" you reasoned, clearly angered that no matter how many reminders he still forgot this damn meeting. "Of course not, but I promise you I won't drop a beautiful person like you," and that's it... "I'm not taking the risk. I'll just take the service there, cya." sad hawks stood alone in his office, disappointed that his move didn't work on you. He sighed before taking off" Oh, dove, you don't have to be that tough to reject me' and took off.

  🧡 When he learned that you have a daughter. He was devastated. He thought his chance of courting you was over. "Your joking, right?" he asked, trying to hide his heartbreak. You laughed in return, "I'm not joking, hawks. I had her when I was 19. Say hi to him, sweety" you said as your daughter went and introduced herself. "Hello, mister Hawks. My name is Yua; it's nice to meet you!!" "Show him your special skill, sweet pea." Hawks got intrigued when you told the child to show him something. "Will he not get mad?" she asked. "No darling, in fact, he would be happier" When you said that, she nodded and began to focus. Then 2 water-like wings sprouted From her back and amazement struck hawks face.

  🧡Ever since you introduced your daughter to Hawks, he wouldn't stop bugging you to bring her ever." DOVE!! Please get her here!" he begged. "Hawks, I will bring her here After her school," you said, trying to calm down, massaging your nose bridge. He seemed pleased with the reply, "And do your paperwork, please" you plead, and he agreed and played your cover songs on his office speakers. It became his work playlist, and you got used to hearing your voice, but to be honest it's kind of distracting.

  🧡 Finally, you could brought your daughter to the agency again. The Hawks can finally quit bugging you about it. "Alright, kid! excited for your flying lesson?" "Absolutely, mister hawks!" she said excitedly. "I hope I can fly like you though I don't know if water would help me to Fly," she said, dejected. "Be optimistic, kid anything can happen if you believe in it. Let's get to the balcony before your mom over there gets angry at me," he said, making the child giggle. He played his work songs and started the lesson. "Alright, kid, First things." "It is one of Mom's songs!" she said enthusiastically, 'What? He thought, confused."Okay, I'm ready for the lesson now, mister Hawks," she said, switching her Focus back to Hawks. An hour passed, and with much determination, your daughter was able to fly. Hawks felt like a proud dad, For real.

 "Mom! I can fly!" "Now, my sweet pea Im so proud!"

Hawks, Following behind, ready to tease you with a new found knowledge.

"and I Didn't know you could sing song bird." he started. "how come you never told me, that it was you I was listening to, hmm?" he said nearing close to you, from personal to intimate space. You blushing and a child giggling. Your gonna lecture your child later.

  🧡 A year has passed, the both of you got closer, and hawks heart Basically yearns for you. He is passionate about loving you now that he knows about your past relationships. A Jerk who promised the world to you and then left when he learned you were pregnant. He wished he was there for you, when you were dealing with pregnancy alone.

To him you aren't just his assistant now, he sees you as someone he can rely on and, you also have warmed up to him too, trusting him with your problems. He loves what you both have, a good relationship, seeing each other as equals, and he wanted more, his instincts saying more.

He is determined to earn your trust and your heart "one day" he whispered, siting on his office desk alone staring at a selfie of him, you with your daughter smiling genuinely, and somewhere on his mind he imagined a family with you.

[wouldntyou-liketoknow]

There Are Some Cons to Being an Archeologist. . .

(Disclaimer: two of the characters in this story belong to me. You can find more information about Penn and LeviathanPat here. Illinois belongs to the Markiplier Cinematic Universe.)

The amazing artist @insane4fandoms has drawn my fanegos multiple times now. I wrote this to show my gratitude. (GO FOLLOW THEM AND REBLOG THEIR STUFF OR ELSE YOU FORFEIT YOUR KNEECAPS.)

(Trigger Warnings: descriptions of dark and slightly claustrophobic areas, descriptions of being chased/pursued/stalked, blood, panic/fear, body horror, teeth, eyes, strong language, eating/drinking. Please let me know if I missed anything.) 

(If you’d like to use distorted fonts like the one you’ll be seeing in this story, then I recommend going here).

Tap-tap-tap

The sun was still sinking, still casting beautiful streaks of pink, purple, and orange across the clouds, but it wouldn’t be long. 

The rock spire’s shadow grew wider and longer with each passing minute.

Outside, the entrance to the cavern yawned open just ten or so feet away. 

Penn couldn’t believe he’d thought it was dark earlier. 

The shade further inside was bright compared to the monster. 

The monster almost didn’t even briefly blend in with that darkness as he paced by the cave’s mouth for the hundredth time now.

Whatever excuse the monster had for skin wasn’t just pitch-black. Oh sure, it glistened like tar one second, then sprouted veins that throbbed like a diseased organ would against blood-clots the next, and then appeared raw like leathery scales or a rough carapace the next, and, and, and. . .

But that was just it. 

The grotesque way it kept shifting and stretching—the constant changes were only ripples against the pitch blackness it was made of. 

It wasn’t like mere shadows or clouds of smoke or puddles of ink. 

The monster was a moving, breathing, sentient void.

He was nothing.

He was a nothing that was somehow bigger than anything because it kept all sorts of horrible things trapped inside it. 

Tap-tap-tap

Throughout his career, Pennsylvania James had come across several opportunities to invoke a phrase that managed to be so simple and so acidic at the same time: “I told you so.”

To his credit, he’d only taken said opportunities once or twice. Most of them had come up via honest mistakes not worth starting a fight over. 

In this scenario, however, that infamous quip would absolutely be justified. 

The red jeep he was currently sitting in belonged to none other than Illinois Jenkins. It’d also belonged to several other parties before aforementioned treasure-hunter had purchased it. 

In a way, that kind of made sense. If you made your living looking for relics, then why not drive something that could probably classify as a relic itself? 

Penn understood that the market for cars was a complete and total trash-fire, as well as how the concept of sentimental value worked in mysterious ways. Really, he did!

But no amount of understanding would make this thing work when he and Illinois really needed it to work.  

Tap-tap-tap

Like a few minutes ago, for instance, when the engine had only offered a weird sputtering noise after Illinois had twisted his key around in the ignition a few dozen times in the span of half a microsecond.

. . .At least, the more logical parts of Penn’s brain were sure that only a few minutes had passed. The less logical parts insisted that it’d been a good couple hours since he and Illinois had bolted out of the cave’s entrance and into the jeep for shelter. 

Oh, yes. There was no way in neither heaven nor hell that Penn could be blamed for telling Illinois that he’d told him so about this damn jeep. 

But he couldn’t do that right now.

Tap-tap-tap

Right now, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to speak again for the next day or two. 

Right now, the only sounds in the air were heavy, raspy panting courtesy of himself and his friend.

He felt his heart bashing against his sternum over and over and over; each beat was legitimately painful. His pulse thundered in his ears as the blood rushed throughout his head. Though, if he listened closely enough, he was sure he could hear Illinois’ own heart on the brink of explosion in his chest. 

Tap-tap-tap

. . .As well as that godforesaken tapping. 

The sound was so light, so quick, so obviously produced by the jeep’s windows. 

And yet Penn’s instincts swore up and down that his skull was being struck for that little rhythm.

It seemed Illinois was under the same illusion, if the way he ground his jaw was anything to go by.

The monster sidled up to the jeep again, placing one hand (or paw, or clutch of talons, or tentacle, or what-the-hell-ever) on the hood while another appendage stretched to rest somewhere on the roof. 

More arms spilled out from his heaving sides, being planted against the ground as he steadied himself and leaned forward, craning his neck toward the windshield. 

His eyes. . .God, somehow they were the very worst part of him. They glowed with a sickly light; not at all like the sun or the moon or even the stars. No, they looked like someone had taken a flickering ember from the bottom of a firepit, and then wrapped strips of pale, decaying flesh around it. 

Penn tried to lean even further back against the leather seat. His spine could feel the monster’s malevolent gaze, and it wanted to crawl out of his skin and find a better hiding place. But it couldn’t, due to both Penn’s attempts to keep it where it belonged as well as the fact that no living thing could ever hide from those eyes no matter what it did.  

Penn watched as a dark, slick, shaking claw reached around the side of the windshield, being pushed toward the passenger window.

Tap-tap-tap

___

Nomad’s Nook. 

That was what the glowing, candy-red sign on this building’s roof spelled out to greet passersby. It sort of made the hotel a centerpiece, as this town was made specifically for drifters and the like, full of tidy little convenience stores and gas stations. 

Desert areas had their charms, but they hardly ever felt like the right place to make a home. Unless, of course, you were a fennec fox, or a gila monster, or a rattlesnake. But even then, you could only survive in an environment like this if you had a shady place to rest. 

Such as a tunnel boring through the base of one of those towering rock spires that had formed an odd million years ago. 

A tunnel that just might lead to an underground cave. . .or maybe two. . .or three. . .

Then again, places like that could also be on your radar if you just so happened to be named after one of the fifty States. 

“So, care to wager?”

“Hmm?” Penn raised an eyebrow, still working on a bite of the takeout ravioli his companion had slaved over a hot cellphone for. By the time they’d parked the jeep outside and trudged into the lobby downstairs, it’d been about two hours since sunset; any meal was long overdue. “On what?”

Illinois, who sat on another bed across the room from the one Penn had claimed, looked up from his own supper (grilled chicken margherita) with a smug grin, dark brown eyes glinting under the rim of his Akubra hat.

“Chuck’s Hole,” he clarified. “Up until now, we’ve only been guesstimating. We still can’t be sure just how far its depths really go. It could have all kinds of things in store for us. . .” 

Penn doubled over as the need to take a deep breath collided with the mouthful of food he’d just barely swallowed. 

“Thanks—a lot,” he hacked, trying to give Illinois a death-glare. Due to the giggles that leaked out, though, this effort wasn’t very successful. 

Illinois tried to shrug it off, all cool and casual, only to wrench his eyes shut as he too fell victim to a violent bout of snickers.

This wasn’t the cavern’s official title. . .not yet, at least, but it had a good chance of sticking. A title like that was too stupid and too funny to forget any time soon. 

The idea stemmed from another one of Penn and Illinois’ projects. The former had discovered a documentary relating to the very specimens he’d been after, and the latter had agreed to watch it with him. 

Well, at some point, the narrator (who absolutely deserved a raise, what with the intensity and drama of his voice) had been describing the body structure of some carnivorous theropod. Particularly its skull and jaws.

The instant subtitles, in their notorious janky nature, had interpreted the quote, “—designed for ripping its prey apart and swallowing chunks whole—” as “—designed for ripping its pray a part and swallowing Chuck’s hole.”

Chuck’s hole.

Chuck’s.

Hole.

. . .Damn.

It was a wonder Penn hadn’t caved in the spacebar on his laptop’s keyboard when he’d paused the video, rendering those words temporarily frozen in brackets at the bottom-left corner of the screen. His free hand had curled into a fist, which he repeatedly slammed against the desk like it owed him money, cackling like a deranged gremlin all the while. 

Illinois had slumped in his chair, raising his hands to knead at his forehead, becoming so wracked with belly-laughs that he ended up choking on a combination of air and his own spit. And after the two of them had calmed down enough to speak coherently again, he’d vowed to one day name a new subterranean area he found in honor of this beautiful moment of idiocy. 

Despite how he insisted on “working best alone,” it wasn’t uncommon for Illinois to call up Penn and invite him to join the odd adventure. Likewise, though he was typically a bit more hesitant, it wasn’t uncommon for Penn to take those invitations. (The team he usually worked with needed breaks, after all.) 

This current project was more of a coincidence. No-one had explored it yet, and rumors about it had reached both of them around the same time. 

Penn leaned back against the too-firm pillows, subconsciously catching his fair skin, chocolate-colored hair and matching eyes in the blank screen of the television at the front of the room. “There were only so many burrowing dinosaurs back then. And caves usually only have trace fossils in their walls, but that depends on the environment. In a place like this. . .” 

He paused, drumming his fingers on the thin blanket whose corners had been tucked under the mattress tighter than a pageant star’s girdle. “. . .There’s a good chance of finding nocturnal remains. Y’know, bats and the like.”

“Sure, but that can’t just be it,” Illinois replied. “C’mon, think a little bigger!” 

Penn tilted his head to the side, reaching over to pluck his deep red neckerchief from the nightstand. He began weaving it about his fingers as he thought. “I guess I can’t rule out the possibility of hyenas, wolves, or bears. Maybe even the odd hominin or two, but I’d have to be really lucky for that.” 

“Well, it’s a good thing you’ve got me,” Illinois declared, smirking as he took off his hat to smooth back the raven hair that almost tickled his shoulders.  

Penn rolled his eyes, half fond and half exasperated. “Right, right. The guy who gets chased by boulders every time he steps outside is just the pinnacle of luck.”

Illinois scoffed. “Oh, please. The boulders are small potatoes compared to animal-rooted curses. Have you ever seen a beaver with green smoke pouring out of its eyes? Awful stuff, man. Awful. Stuff.”

The adventurer paused, shuddering as a distant, unreadable look manifested in his eyes. “Last time I bumped into one, I spent a week with the feeling of splinters all over my tongue. Don’t even get me started on how orange my teeth turned!” 

“. . .I’m not sure why you’d put orange teeth in a worse spot on the tier list than invisible splinters in your mouth,” Penn deadpanned. 

“You weren’t there to see it! My dentist wouldn’t stop trying to convince me that I’d either been eating Play Doh or doing all sorts of drugs!” Illinois argued, shaking his head, eyebrows arched so severely they could’ve left dents in the ceiling. “And that was just what I got from a scratch. The stupid overgrown-water-hamster hadn’t even bitten me.” 

With all the trivia he gathered on instinct, Penn knew that somewhere out in the world, there existed an obituary that could easily be summarized as Death By Beaver. And, assuming the guilty rodent in question was a normal, non-cursed one, an event like that being reality was already weird enough. 

“It could’ve been worse,” Penn mused. “Imagine getting attacked by a cursed koala. If that’s not a bad omen from the universe, then I don’t know what is.” 

Illinois grimaced, no doubt recalling the time he’d unwillingly learned that koalas A. could somehow throw temper-tantrums that rivaled those of crocodiles, and B. carried strands of chlamydia around like those stupid designer purses. “Fair point, though I doubt any curse would give a koala more braincells to work with.” 

Penn snorted. “Exactly.”

On one hand, Penn could be a bit of a skeptic. Not always, since you couldn’t put strange, vast skeletons together without being imaginative. But as a young boy, he’d lost count of all the times he’d been laughed at for collecting rocks simply because they were shinier or more colorful than average.

On the other hand, one of his and Illinois’ earlier co-op trips had seen them stopping by a Walmart for supplies and then getting chased out ten minutes later by a rogue boulder that had apparently manifested somewhere in the candy aisle because why the hell not? 

Certain parts of his mind hadn’t known peace since then, but other parts were now more open than they were before. So, Penn supposed that could count as a balance. 

Illinois paused, eyes to widening and twinkling. “Oh! And speaking of omens, hang on a second—”

He placed his to-go box to the side before reaching over to the bedpost. There hung a satchel, the same one he claimed to have inherited from his mother and always took on his escapades. He rummaged through it, eliciting a chorus of sounds that suggested it was packed with many, many more things than it should’ve been capable of holding. 

After an awkwardly long moment, the silence was broken by a short cry of victory. Illinois got to his feet, crossing the room and extending his arm to show off the package that was now taking up space in one hand.  “I got something for you. Fresh from the other side of the world.” 

Penn felt his lips quirk as he carefully took said package. It was a bundle of brown paper, complete with a long string of twine that had been tied into a bow at the top. Whatever was inside could only be about as long as his hand, but it had a definite heft to it. 

Penn placed it on his lap as he fished through his pockets, bringing out a small folding knife to cut the cords. The paper yielded quite easily, shuffling and crackling and spreading like the petals of a dried-out flower as he unfolded it. 

There, in the middle of those layers, sat the gift. 

It was cold against his palms. It felt a little rough too, despite the paint (which was the grayish-purplish color of a bruise) that covered it. Hardened clay, Penn guessed. 

It resembled an animalistic head, though Penn wasn’t sure what animal the artist had taken inspiration from. An oblong shape like the snout of a dog, or maybe a lizard; if he was honest, it seemed like someone had tried to sculpt a velociraptor’s skull strictly from memory. Whatever the case, its snout split open into a leering maw full of sharp, crooked teeth. And just above those teeth. . .eyes. 

Eight eyes, to be specific, organized in a line of four on either side of the face. They’d each been painted an unpleasant shade of yellow, each adorned by a wide, black pupil. Penn squinted, realizing that those pupils were holes. Just hollow pits boring further inside the head. 

There were two more holes in the bottom half, right under the thing’s lower jaw. A small spire jutted out from the base, adorned by a tiny rectangular chasm. Like the mouthpiece you could expect to find on any wind-instrument.

“. . .An ocarina?” Penn finally asked, glancing back at Illinois. 

Illinois tutted, shaking his head. "Penn, buddy, c'mon. After all the crazy shit you've seen me handle, you really think I'd give you just any old ocarina?"

“I mean, that's sort of what this looks like. Big emphasis on the ‘sort of,’ though, I'll give you that," Penn quipped, a hesitant laugh following his words. It felt like the thing’s eyes were watching him. They couldn’t be, though. They were hollow, they were made of clay. This thing was not alive. 

Penn didn’t like how he had to remind himself of that. 

“It’s a Chimera Pipe,” Illinois continued with a ghostly edge to his voice. “Whenever you play it, the music is supposed to ward off evil spirits. What do you think?”

“Interesting. Pretty damn interesting.” Despite the cold, clammy feeling creeping around his stomach, Penn couldn’t help but smile. “Y’know, I was gonna say I’ve never seen anything like this, but it reminds of that little doll you got a few years ago.”

“‘Little doll,’” Illinois echoed, incredulous. “I think you mean my Warden.” 

“Right, sorry.” Penn raised a teasing eyebrow in return, then glanced back down at the Chimera Pipe. “Really, though, doesn’t this thing give off the same vibe as that?”

“It’d better give off the same vibe; it was made by the same person.” Illinois reached into one of his breast pockets to produce the object in question. “I honestly can’t believe I managed to bump into them again. I mean, of course they’d recognize me, of all people—”

Illinois’ shoulders popped up in a cocky little shrug as his free hand hovered over his heart. Penn clicked his tongue at that. 

As Illinois held the Warden up, allowing it to catch the light, a lump manifested in Penn’s throat. His companion had a point: doll wasn’t the most accurate term for it. It had been carved from wood, yes, but that was where the similarities ended. 

Small, oily black feathers and strands of hair (actual human hair, mind you) had been wrapped around its torso in a tight bundle. Six jagged, spidery twig-arms jutted out from said bundle, bent in ways that suggested the totem was both trying to free itself and claw at anything that got near it.

Its head almost resembled the skull of a tiny monkey. . .almost. About ten eyes had been painted all over it. Or, Penn assumed eyes had been painted there. It was hard to tell, what with the plethora of steel nails that had been driven into it from every which way. A decent chunk had been carved from it, leaving the entire lower half to serve as a gaping, disfigured mouth filled with needle-teeth.

Thick strings had been twisted around its torso, coming to a knot around its neck, which in turn spilled out into a wide loop. Apparently the maker had explained that its protective powers would be most efficient when it was worn as a necklace, but it would still work nicely when hung from a bedpost, or a rack on the wall. . .or a doorknob. 

(Illinois went for the last option, since he couldn’t resist using that to make jokes about not needing to put a tie or sock on the knob anymore.)

Penn rested his fingertips over the pipe's eye-holes and his thumbs over the jaw-holes. He pushed the mouthpiece toward his face, only to flich back, wrinkling his nose. “Oh—oh, geez.”

“What the matter?” Illinois asked, tilting his head and taking a few steps closer. 

“Nothing, it just. . .smells funny. Strong,” Penn answered. He’d already expected a distinct, earthy scent from the clay. And while it was there, it was overpowered by something else. Something that had a bite to it, like vinegar or cigarettes.

Illinois scratched at the hair growing along his jaw. “That must be the paint. I was told all sorts of spices and herbs had to be mixed into it for it to work. Kind of like the stuff people use to cure animal hides, y’know?” 

Penn hummed, offering a shrug. He could see the logic of that. 

Illinois then gestured to the pipe, silently prompting him to resume. 

Penn nodded, raising the pipe back up until the mouthpiece was less than an inch from his lips. Then, he took a deep breath, held it in his chest for a second, and blew it out.

The ensuing noise was. . .unique. 

It was a mixture of guttural and keening, shifting through a good few notes as Penn tapped his fingers against the eye-holes, trying to find a rhythm. It certainly didn’t sound like any music he’d heard before, but it wasn’t a person’s voice or an animal’s cry. So, music was the only thing it could really be called.

After a moment, he decided to stop playing and pulled the pipe away from his face. Illinois gave a brief, soft applause. 

“I can’t see any evil spirits in here. Can you?” Illinois asked, making a show of glancing around the hotel room. 

Penn shook his head, turning the pipe over in his hands. “No, I don’t think so.” 

“Great! It must be working, then. . .well, unless the Warden is just doing all the heavy-lifting.” Illinois grinned, spinning the creepy little doll-thing between his fingers.

“WOW.” Penn raised an eyebrow, grinning right back as he placed a hand on his hip. “Are you putting my playing skills to shame?”

Illinois squinted and pursed his lips, holding one hand flat in the air and turning it to and fro in that classic Maybe-Kinda-Sorta gesture.

Penn scoffed as he set the Chimera Pipe on the nightstand next to his own hat (another, older gift from Illinois), still tracing its eye-holes with his fingers. “. . .Thanks for thinking of me, Illi. This’ll really stand out in my collection.”

Illinois nodded as he strode back to his own bed and flopped onto the mattress. “No problem, Penn.”

___

Spelunking definitely wasn’t a hobby for everyone.

There was a reason storytellers often used “Rocks fall, everyone dies” as a catchall conclusion in a pinch. Even in the safer scenarios, caves were still cold, dark, enclosed. 

When stalagmites and stalactites alike (try saying that five times fast) protruded from the floors and ceilings, it wouldn’t take a paranoid imagination to see how those things resembled rows of irregular, snarling fangs.

That, in turn, led to the cave looking like the maw of a beast, which would obviously make the tunnels comparable to said beast’s throat. All in all, the correlation between caverns and monsters wasn’t that much of a joke.

But archeology buffs weren’t everyone. 

Penn and Illinois trekked side-by-side, led only by the glow of flashlights, their footsteps reverberating as they descended further and further into the behemoth’s belly. The sunlight trickling in through the craggy entrance of Chuck’s Hole had faded away with the distance.

Most cave systems consisted of one long, uneven tunnel that simply wound deeper and deeper into the earth until inevitably hitting a dead end. (A literal and figurative rock bottom, if you would.) Sometimes there could be thinner passages as well, branching off the main one and offering a much shorter path to a much smaller chamber.

It reminded Penn of the ant farm he’d cared for back when his undertakings had been limited to the neighborhood playground.

Chuck’s Hole was no different.  

Penn paused, lowering his flashlight as he leaned against the wall.

A hollow phantom pain crawled up and down his left leg. As though the ache was leaking through the huge, jagged bitemark that marred the skin of his thigh. It’d healed and scarred over quite a while ago—and the limp Penn now walked with wasn’t too noticeable—but that didn’t stop it from stinging like hell at times. 

It took a few seconds before Illinois glanced over his shoulder and stopped as well. He opened his mouth, only to immediately shut it with a little snap. He chewed his lip, making a clear effort to not stare at Penn’s leg as though he could see the scar through his pants. The guilt that trickled into his dark eyes, however, he hadn’t moved fast enough to hide.

Penn shook his head and rolled his shoulders. “I’m fine, I’m fine. We can keep going.” He took a bottle from one of the compartments in his canvas rucksack, lifting it up and taking a few gulps. The icy water felt good. “You said you had a feeling there’d be more for us to see, right?” 

Illinois nodded, smiling once more. “Right.” 

With that, the duo continued on, soon discovering a fork in the main tunnel just a few feet ahead. That was where Illinois suddenly halted yet again, leaning around the curve of the craggy wall to peek at the secondary pathway. He let out a low whistle, then disappeared around the corner. 

The hidden scar burned as Penn quickened his pace, but that was easily pushed aside once he entered this new chamber. 

“Say ‘Cheese!’” Illinois called before a bright flash illuminated everything within five feet of him. Penn flinched, squawking as one hand flew up just a millisecond too late to shield his face. 

Illinois guffawed. “Ah, that’ll be a good one for the corkboards!” 

After a second or two of scrubbing at his eyes, Penn shook his head and sighed, offering a disappointed glare that could make dads all over the world green with envy. “I should’ve known you were gonna pull something like that.”

“Yes, you should’ve,” Illinois agreed, smirking as he turned away to take some more pictures, this time of the things they were actually down here to study.

Though he tried hard not to, Penn ended up snickering to himself. “Did you at least get my good side?”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Illinois answered with a shrug as he slipped his camera back into his satchel. 

The lower-half of the chamber could be compared to an ammonite shell: it twisted in on itself and offered three ledges, each one trailing off into the next and going slightly deeper.

As Penn approached his companion, he noticed how the sides of each ledge were different from the main tunnel. They resembled the work of a tattoo artist who was, to the great misfortune of his paying canvas, whacked out on three different cocktails that had been served with more than just salt on the rims of the glasses.

At first his heart jumped, assuming he and Illinois had stumbled upon a few dozen crinoids. That spark died a quick death as he looked closer, though his interest was still piqued. Every inch of the rock in here was scored, covered in twisting lines and shapes that couldn’t be naturally-formed layers or cracks. They’d been carved with crude instruments, and quite hastily at that. 

“What do you make of these?” Penn asked, squinting and having to keep turning his head. All of the carvings seemed to work together to create a larger picture, but it was so hard to fit them all in his eyes at once. 

Illinois pursed his lips, a mixture of curiosity and adrenaline flickering on his face. “They’re not like a lot of the hieroglyphics I’ve seen. I think can make out a few similarities, but not enough to actually translate anything. I’ll have to check my journals for a comparison later.”

He’d already strolled to the third ledge, which trailed off around a pit in the bottom. “I was just about to ask if you had any ideas about this.”

As Penn followed and looked down, he felt his eyes widen to the size of dinner plates. 

It looked like a circle had been hollowed out of the rock, about as wide as both his and Illinois’ wingspans lined up together, and then filled with. . .something. 

Whatever it was, it must have been viscous before it was left to harden God-knows-how-many-years-ago. A few hundred filaments and frozen bubbles gleamed from under the surface against the bright artificial glow of his flashlight.

There was no way to truly tell, but the hole must have been pretty damn deep, as the substance was flat as a window.

Illinois knelt down and reached over to carefully tap at the edge of the petrified mass, eliciting a dull tik-tik. He then dragged his nail across it, tilting his head as he saw how no scratch mark was left behind. “Amber, maybe?”

Penn shook his head. “I think agate would be a closer option. Like sardonyx or Mexican Fire.” He paced around the pit, keeping his torch’s beam trained on it. “I’ve seen plenty of amber samples come in different colors, but none of them had any patterns like this.” 

Sure enough, an assortment of long, winding shapes could be seen further within the substance. They were a dark shade of gray, reminding Penn of tree branches, or roots. . .or veins. 

Except they were all bent and contorted, tangling rather than smoothly flowing together. As though the bottom of the pit had been some kind of burial mound, and a bunch of pale, malnourished limbs with WAY too many joints for comfort had been writhing through the soil just as this stuff was poured in. 

Illinois hummed as he stood back up and wandered closer, now following Penn’s gaze. “Sort of reminds me of horn coral. Y’know, like charlevoix?” 

Penn offered a shrug. “I guess so. Or something along the lines of opalized septarian? I mean, that’s the closest thing I can think of in terms of the pattern, but the colors seem completely off.” 

It never failed to fascinate him just how pretty rocks could be, depending on how and where they formed. 

The mass in the pit was not an example. Not by a long-shot. 

As he kept examining, Penn saw shades of white and red and orangish-brown. While he’d seen those types of colors mix very well together in other things, the mixture here just looked. . .wrong. 

In fact, the longer he stared at it, the more its colors appeared almost fleshy. 

And, following that comparison, the gray of those vein-like bands were like fungal threads growing on a carcass. 

Penn grimaced at the thought. He then slid his rucksack down one arm and onto the craggy floor. He got to his knees and fished around inside it, now holding his flashlight between his teeth as he produced a hammer and chisel. They shone in the dim light, having been cleaned and sharpened for what was probably the thousandth time not too long ago. 

He leaned over the petrified mass, pressing the chisel’s flat edge flush against it and lining up the hammer’s face. 

He started with a few cautious taps. The substance didn’t feel like concrete, of course, but it still seemed just as firm. 

Penn tightened his grip, then wound back and gave a much stronger strike. The chisel’s blade dug in a couple inches deeper.

Penn kept at it, readjusting his tools every few seconds as he carved a piece, feeling an odd type of comfort as the percussion reverberated through the bones of his fingers and wrists. 

A smile flickered on his face as a palm-fitting chunk finally broke off from the rest of the mass. As he laid his instruments off to the side and took aforementioned chunk into his hands, however, that smile died a slow death. 

The substance was dry. You could tell just by looking that it was very, very dry. 

True, the inside of this cavern was much cooler than the outside, but it was still smack-dab in the middle of a desert. True, Penn and Illinois were underground right now, but they still had yet to find any water deposits in here. 

And yet it. . .it felt moist and sticky against his skin.

It slipped out of Penn’s grasp, giving a very anticlimactic thunk as it fell to the ground. There was no residue, no filmy strings, no evidence of any sort of liquid on his fingers. 

Confused, Penn reached down and picked it back up. That same, sickly-wet feeling came with it, once again not leaving a single hint that the sample was anything other than dry as a bone. 

Although, if he really thought about it, that term only applied to old bones. 

A freshly-removed bone, on the other hand, would be quite slick with blood. . .

As he side-eyed the rest of the mass, a sharp, ugly sensation manifested inside him. Like he’d swallowed a spool of jagged, oily wire that was now unraveling in his stomach. He felt his free hand curl into a fist at his side. He didn’t want to look at the mass anymore, but he just couldn’t seem to turn his head away. 

The colors. . .those awful, fleshy-looking colors. . .were they vibrating?

No. 

No, no, nononono, they couldn’t be. 

They couldn’t be, and they weren’t. 

Penn made sure of that via grinding his jaw and blinking furiously. 

H i t  i t  a g a i n , whispered something he couldn’t hear.

It almost felt like one of his thoughts. But it wasn't. Whatever it was, it had NEVER been in his head before and therefore had no right to be in there now. 

That sensation was now in his skull, fluttering along his temples like the beginning flares of a migraine. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. Goosebumps sprouted along his arms. Something in his brain screamed at him to hold his breath, and he listened to it without even thinking. 

Still looking at the mass, still clutching the sample he’d taken. . .still feeling what his instincts now recognized as the impatient stare of an apex predator. 

From out of nowhere, weight came down on his shoulder. At the same time, his hat was titled upward to make way for something rough and uneven that was suddenly being pressed against his forehead. 

Penn startled, a small scream tearing its way up his throat only to die halfway through his mouth as Illinois appeared before him.

“Whoa, hey! Take it easy!” Illinois almost recoiled in turn, but held steady. 

“What are you doing?!” Penn squawked, trying to edge away. 

“I’m trying to help you!” Illinois barked. One hand remained on Penn’s shoulder while the other refused to leave any room for Jesus between Penn’s brow and a small, blurry object. 

In a flash, Penn was back on his feet, reeling away until his shoulder collided with one of the walls. Illinois approached, hovering before his companion, holding the Warden in empty air.

The two of them engaged in a very uncomfortable staring contest for about ten seconds. Even with all its little nail-stab-wound-eyes, the Warden was really the only winner.  

“You’re not okay,” Illinois announced. His eyes made it clear that he knew it would’ve been pointless to ask otherwise. “You felt strange while taking that sample, didn’t you? Your head was hurting, right?”

Penn offered a shaky nod before trying to ask, “How did—why were you—?” 

Illinois let out a deep breath, nodding back. “This thing was made to be a guard dog. But that doesn’t mean it can’t help with the more, ah, internalized bad juju.” He raised the Warden for emphasis. “I kinda felt it, too. Sudden pain isn’t too uncommon in shrines like this.” 

“Yeah, well, your experiences aren’t universal,” Penn snarked, cringing at how dry his mouth suddenly felt. The naturally-formed tombs of ancient animals were one thing, but actual shrines were another. 

Illinois glanced down, fidgeting with the Warden’s cord before lifting it over his hat, letting it drape along his neck, the creepy totem now resting over his heart. 

As Penn watched, he felt himself reach into one of the lower pockets of his hiking vest. His fingers brushed against dry paint, feeling the Chimera Pipe's clay teeth and hollow eye-holes. He’d been worried about the possibility of it getting stolen while he and Illinois were away from the hotel room. 

That was the main reason he’d brought it along.

Had anything else compelled him to. . ?

Illinois rolled his shoulders, briskly shaking his head. “Alright, c’mon. We need to steer clear of this particular chamber. For a little while, at least.” He turned and started walking back up the ledges, beckoning for Penn to follow. 

Though Penn didn’t reply, he was quick to gather up his things, slinging his rucksack over his shoulder and marching along. He didn't dare look back at the sample he'd just carved, very pointedly leaving it behind.

Pieces of that oily feeling were still in his head, much more muffled than before. That wasn’t much of an improvement, since they also felt angrier, more desperate than before. Penn shivered badly, his eyes watering without warning, which led to him tripping over his own feet. 

Illinois caught him before he could taste the craggy floor. The adventurer’s features contorted with worry as he helped the paleontologist regain his balance. Penn guessed that his eyes were significantly more bloodshot than they had been a few minutes ago, judging by how Illinois sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth as he peered at them. 

“. . .Or maybe should we just head to the jeep,” Illinois coughed, keeping a hand on the small of Penn’s back as the two of them drew closer to the chamber’s entrance. “Get some sunshine, take a longer break, weigh our options before we come baaAAAAAAUUUGH!” 

How had neither of them noticed the ground beginning to tremble?

Penn barely had time to register the scream before Illinois barreled to the side, half-shoving-half-dragging him along. He let out a shocked shriek of his own, which wasted no time bouncing off the chamber walls as the duo landed in a heap in the corner of the first ledge. 

What felt like a Category 4 earthquake rammed into the chamber’s opening, accentuated by a thunderous cacophony of grinding gravel. The stone walls shook, causing centuries-old dust to rain from the ceiling.

Both Penn and Illinois cried out again, ducking and covering, grabbing onto one another for dear life. 

For a brief, horrible moment, the world was nothing but noise. 

Nothing but BOOMING and CRASHING. . .

Until the very last second, when the unmistakable chorus of splintering, then cracking, and then full-on shattering drowned out anything else. It almost sounded like glass, but it just didn’t quite make the mark. Whatever was breaking was obviously much thicker than glass, much more ancient than glass. . .

Penn knew what that was. He knew without having to see, without even having to know.

And then. . .well, it would be wrong to say that a heavy silence settled over everything. The sound of hitching, ragged gasps for air almost seemed deafening. 

“. . .I-is anything broken? Or bleeding?” Penn finally blurted, opening one eye a few seconds before the other. His companion looked like he’d been involved in either a classic baking fiasco or a freak accident in a cocaine lab. Even with a significant lack of mirrors down here, Penn could tell he was in the same boat. “There’s only a few scrapes on my arms.”

Illinois opened his mouth to reply, only to launch himself into a coughing fit as the tiny particles were sucked in. He shook his head and offered a thumbs-up. “Same here.”

His nerves were obviously still on fire, but the day he wasn’t a do-er was the the day he wasn’t Illinois. He gritted his teeth, brushing the dust off his face before craning his neck to survey whatever the hell had just happened.

The answer was. . .interesting, as an odd mix of triumph and aggravation swept over the adventurer’s features. He was back on his feet in a flash, readjusting his hat as he rushed away from the impromptu fallout shelter. “YyyyyyOU SON OF A BITCH! I THOUGHT WE’D SETTLED THIS THE LAST TIME!” 

Give him his due, Illinois seemed to sense the way Penn winced, as he paused his tirade to glance over his shoulder and wave a hand. “Don’t worry, I’m not talking about you.” 

That statement seemed to kickstart something, as Penn was suddenly up and following on shakey legs before he even felt himself moving. “What is it?! What is it?!”

Illinois scoffed, pointing an accusatory finger at the bottom of the chamber, at the petrified mass. . .or, what was left of it.

At least a couple hundred shards had been broken off and sent flying onto the higher ledges, courtesy of a large boulder that had crashed into the pit. Despite not struggling the way an animal would, it was clearly stuck, lodged in halfway.

Penn heaved a long-suffering sigh. He wasn’t sure if this topped the Walmart Disaster or not; even if the boulder really did have a mind of its own, at least it was in a place it actually had a modicum of business being in right now. 

“How many times do I have tO TEACH YOU THIS LESSON?” Illinois demanded, stooping down to snatch up a much smaller, more primitive cousin to his adversary and hurl it. The rock hit the boulder with a loud plunk before tumbling back down to the ground. 

“Knock it off, Illi,” Penn started, giving his friend a dig in the arm. “I’d say yelling won’t do anything, but in your case, yelling is only gonna make it mad.”

“Oh, please. Like it isn’t already mad!” Illinois contended. He kept his eyes glued to his craggy nemesis. “It’s because you didn’t catch me all those years ago, isn’t it? That’s your own damn fault! Losing a race to something eight times smaller and a few hundred weightclassses lighter says more about YOU than it does about your target!”

Penn narrowed his eyes, weighing the pros and cons that would come with reaching over to knock Illinois’ hat off. He’d just barely raised a hand when his gaze wandered back over to the boulder. . .to the cracks it’d left in the petrified mass. . .and he found himself frozen once more. 

“Illinois, wait—” he whispered. He started shivering, and not just from the cold lumps materializing in his throat. 

The explorer in question interrupted. “I wasn’t even taking that one idol; I was literally just trying to put it back! What the hell would a boulder want with an idol anyway?!”

“Illinois, stop, listen—!” Penn tried again, shaking his companion’s shoulder.  

Illinois cut him off yet again. “Why don’t you just sprout legs already, huh?! I’ve met rhinos who had better aim than you! And at least rhinos have bad eyesight as an excuse! You don’t even HAVE eyes, and yet you STILL try to single me out every damn year!”

“ILLINOIS!” Penn snapped, his voice shooting through several octaves as he grabbed the other man by the arm and forced him to take a few steps back.

The monologue came to an abrupt halt. Illinois swiveled his head to meet Penn’s eyes.

“What?” He asked with just a hint of attitude, looking perfectly casual for someone who had just been shouting obscenities at a boulder.

Penn gritted his teeth, his frustration giving way to fear as he frantically motioned toward the boulder. Or, to be more precise, what was happening underneath the boulder. What was happening to the remains of the mass in the pit. . .

Illinois looked back, squinting, incredulousness wafting off him in waves for about three seconds. By the fourth second, all the color drained right out of his face.

There was something on the other side of the mass. Something that was now pooling up through the new cracks with a chorus of soft, sickening sighs. 

Penn remembered watching videos of octopi using their boneless nature to their advantage, squeezing through the thinnest, tiniest, most unbelievable spaces to escape their enclosures. As stomach-churning as it’d been to watch, it’d managed to also be just as funny and fascinating.

There was only one way to see what was happening right now as funny or fascinating, and that was to simply not be human. Actually, scratch that, it involved not being anything that could be found among the natural order, or among sane, innocent minds. 

A large clot of dark, viscous tendrils clung to the boulder, slithering along to the top of it, visibly straining as more and more and more came oozing out. What was left of the petrified mass creaked and groaned and splintered, now swelling like either an egg on the brink of hatching or a pimple on the brink of popping. The pieces that hadn’t flown off were now being pushed up by the rising horror. 

It almost seemed to move like a liquid; this wasn’t tar, oil, or even the unimpressive sludge you could find anywhere just by digging deep enough to reach the moist, cold, protected bowels of soil. Magma mixed with gallons of blood was the closest guess, but that still wound up being wrong.

This was flesh. 

Blistering, boiling, contorting flesh like some awful hybrid of spider and slug that seemed to take any and all light and swallow it up.

A type of flesh that wasn’t supposed to exist.

In under a minute, enough of it had oozed out to create a mound that nearly touched the chamber’s ceiling. It kept writhing in place, but with purpose now. At least six coiling limbs sprouted from its sides, the ends of each splitting into a clutch of dripping claws.

“. . .¥ê§. . .”

The voice was like a swarm of cicadas, shifting through several pitches at once. A masculine edge seemed present somewhere within it—hell, there even seemed to be a hint of Midwestern accent, for some ungodly reason.

Holes of various shapes and sizes tore themselves open everywhere, screaming and soon gnashing as sets of shark-like teeth came blooming around them. Just as many, if not even more, eyes followed suite, bubbling through the skin, each blinking erratically and shifting through all sorts of colors. 

“¥ê§, ¥ê§, ¥È§!” The abhorrent voice continued. “̆'§ håþþêñêÐ! Ì'm ðµ†! Ì'm £ïñåll¥, £ÌñÄLL¥ ÖÚ†!”

The empty space at the top of the mound shuddered, forcing some of the material around the middle to surge upward, molding itself together to shape first a neck. . .and then a head. 

A pair of sockets drained themselves out in the front, promptly being filled by two more eyes, larger and wider and more focused than all the others.

A maw split open beneath them, revealing rows of teeth sharp enough to make even the most intimidating swords of yore look like Swiss Army toys.

“£RÈÈÐÖM!” The newly-formed monster cried, his laughter rippling through the air the same way lightning would streak through clouds and rain. 

All at once, the oily feeling was back, now focused on Penn’s chest rather than his head. It seemed to literally wash over him; the haze made him feel soaked, made his clothes feel like they were clinging to his skin. 

And unlike a few minutes ago, it wasn’t just squirming somewhere inside his flesh. 

No, this time, only half of it was doing that.

The other half was outside of him, as obvious-yet-invisible as the air itself.

And it.

Was. 

PULLING. 

Like he was a cadaver on an examining table, like the mortician had sliced a long line from his throat to his navel, like the two freshly-seperated halves of skin on his torso were being tugged apart, like his intestines were being dragged out hand-over-fist. 

None of it felt like normal pain, like real pain. 

It felt the same way a long, fat worm looked when its glistening, slimy skin was covered in fine soil. 

It felt the same way sulfur smelled as it rose up from a geyser in clouds of heavy, near-palpable fog. 

It felt the same way a infant sounded as it screamed while its umbilical cord was being cut. 

Penn knew he wasn’t bleeding, knew nothing was actually pouring out of him.

That didn’t make things any better.

His mind was bleeding. Ulcers were growing on his thoughts. 

He couldn’t know what the oily feeling was so ruthlessly taking from him, but he knew without knowing that it was something important. Something that he could survive without. . .but that kind of absence would make survival pointless. 

Pointless. . .pointless, pointless, pointless, pointless, pointless, pointless, pointless, Penn’s mind chanted as the monster’s multitude of eyes all stopped moving in their sockets, pupils dilating one after the other. 

All staring at him and Illinois. 

The monster stiffened, a surprised, excited gasp rushing into the air. 

“Wêll, wêll, wêll!” With a chorus of awful pops and cracks, the monster turned his neck to gaze down, down, down, his  primary eyes shining with the same predatory slyness of a snake that had just cornered a mouse. . .or two.

“ÄñÐ hêrê Ì †hðµgh† §ðmê†hïñg wå§ ð££!”

“Oh, something’s extremely off right now,” Illinois replied. It would’ve been a totally badass gesture on his part. . .except for the fact that his typically deep, rich, velvetine voice had tapered down into a shivering squeak. 

“ñðw, Ððñ'† gê† mê wrðñg, †hï§ ï§ †hê ß꧆ †hïñg †ð håþþêñ †ð mê ïñ ÄGȧ. ßµ† £ðr å mïñµ†ê, ï† jµ§† rêåll¥ £êl† lïkê §ðmê†hïñg wå§ m裏ïñg, ¥'kñðw?” The monster explained thoughtfully, seeming much more amused than unfazed. “Äñ êvêñ† lïkê †hï§ jµ§† ï§ñ'† ¢ðmþlê†ê. . .” 

He dipped his head, lowering himself to the ground, limbs tensing and back arching. Just like a cat getting ready to pounce. 

“. . .wï†h𵆠å ñï¢ê llê rål §å¢rï£ï¢ê!”

The monster’s mouth gaped open, the abyssal skin around his jaws shuddering as he cackled. Three long, sinuous tendrils stretched out between its fangs. One of them was a blur as it cracked like a whip, seemingly of its own accord, sending droplets of ichor to splatter against the walls and floor and immediately sizzle through stone.

Penn didn’t know how—or even why—he managed to move. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the abomination, couldn’t think through the haze of dread and terror. He was beyond steadying himself, but he still moved.

Paint-coated clay greeted his palm like a friend he’d known even longer than Illinois. 

In one swift, fluid, subconscious movement, he raised the Chimera Pipe to his face. 

The strange, warbling, howling music poured into the air.

As it did, as Penn put more force behind his breath, the monster froze. 

The monster’s skin stopped writhing. Those three tongues reeled back into his mouth, vanishing within the rows upon rows upon rows of teeth. 

As Penn stared, still playing, still expecting to die. . .somehow, he caught a glimpse of a shape in the monster’s form. Smack-dab in the spot where his neck met his chest. That shape trembled in a very unpleasant way, just like those full-body-twitches people got while they slept.

And then the monster started SCREAMING. 

It was a hideous concoction of shock and pain and fury. Like nothing Penn had ever heard before and desperately hoped to never hear again. 

Yet, by some miracle, it didn’t drown out the music. 

Penn’s lungs felt like they were on fire. His teeth were vibrating. Tears cascaded out of his eyes, streaming down his face, a lucky few managing to slide onto the Chimera Pipe. 

But he kept playing it.

Even as his vision blurred, even as he felt Illinois grab him by the shoulders and start dragging him away, he kept playing it. 

All the while, the monster kept shrieking as the music drilled into whatever awful mess his ears were. 

Penn just kept on playing. . .until. . .until. . .UNTIL. . .

___

“Ì'll å§k ågåïñ: hðw êx墆l¥,” the monster seethed, “ÐïÐ ¥ðµ gê† ¥ðµr grïm¥ llê håñЧ ðñ †hê§ê. . .†hïñg§?” He jabbed an accusatory talon first in the Chimera Pipe’s direction, then pivoted it toward the Warden, spitting out the last word like it was a rotten oyster. 

He’d gone back and forth between leering at the trapped archeology buffs and snarling at the Chimera Pipe multiple times now. Because it seemed that one of the very few things he couldn’t do was get too close to it, let alone try to touch it. He’d already hovered one of his hand-like appendages over it, only to snatch it away and hiss a few seconds later, as though the clay instrument had an invisible cloud of poison around it. 

“And I’ll tell you as many times as I have to: it’s none of your fucking business!” Illinois retorted. “Besides, you’re one to talk. Our hands aren’t grimy, and they’re not little, either.”

In spite of his horror, Penn couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow in Illinois’ direction. The monster’s palms seemed to be as wide as the jeep’s tires (for now, at least).

A strange growl rose from the monster’s throat, sort of like a honey badger that just pulled what was left of its tail out of a malfunctioning garbage disposal. It signaled the very odd way of how the creature’s anger issues combined with the fact that hell would have to freeze over before said creature even thought about giving a damn.

The growl transitioned into an equally grating chuckle as the monster lightly shook his head. “¥ðµr §þê¢ïê§ ðñl¥ hå§ å £êw †hïñg§ gðïñg £ðr ï†. ÄñÐ Ì gµê§§ mðxïê ï§ ðñê 𣠆hêm.”

The monster obviously couldn’t relate to humans (or anything that had been born on Earth, for that matter). There was no doubt that he saw things differently, considering how his too-many eyes rolled and shook and popped and melted and dilated and constricted and. . .

Therefore, Penn had no idea how the monster saw things like moxie.

Moxie felt more distant than the setting sun, than the slowly-dying light that was clawing against the ground. 

As much of an adrenaline junkie as Illinois was, as stubborn as he was to sass a warping mound of flesh made of nightmares, it was easy to tell that he was terrified. Anyone with a single, solitary iota of sanity would be terrified.

Penn couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so helpless. As he stared through the windshield, the monster had most of his attention, of course. . .but the Chimera Pipe was quite a strong contender, what with how it was now lying on the ground just a few feet away from the jeep. 

How had he possibly dropped it? 

It shouldn’t have mattered how fast he and Illinois had been running, how violently he’d been shaking. He should’ve had the death-grip to end all goddamn death-grips on that thing. 

If he hadn’t dropped it, then he could’ve kept on playing it. 

If he could keep on playing it, then maybe that would’ve forced the monster to leave him and Illinois alone. Penn was sure that the monster would keep coming back to prowl around them, taunting or threatening or making sarcastic attempts at cajoling, but at least the pipe’s music would’ve forced him to keep just a little more distance than this. 

But that wasn’t going to happen, because he’d dropped it like only a disposable movie character could. Now, staying in this car, watching the monster’s body spasm and twist, listening to his vile smalltalk was the only option he and Illinois had. 

Oh sure, Illinois had taken the Warden’s string from around his neck, opting instead to tie it to the rearview mirror and let the totem slowly spin to and fro. 

While Penn now understood how the creepy little thing truly did have some protective mojo to it, whatever supernatural vibes that wafted off of it only kept the monster from pressing his horrific face right up against the windows.

Because life could just never be bothered to be that easy or fair.

“What the hell are you?” Penn finally blurted. “What was that stuff in the chamber? How long were you down there?” 

One of the monster’s primary eyes slid around on his face and drilled into Penn’s brown, watery orbs. He was unable to look away as that eye twitched—no, squirmed in its socket. Little lumps appeared under the sclera, bulging and stretching until a bunch of spindly shapes burst through. 

. . .Arms. Nine tiny arms that thrashed the air as the monster’s quivering pinprick pupil spun in the center of them. Not just clawing aimlessly; they were trying to reach for Penn, every single one of them. 

Penn clasped a hand over his mouth to keep something much more solid than his ragged breath from spilling through his lips. 

The monster chuckled again. “Wêll, †hå† l姆 qµê§†ïðñ ï§ †hê êå§ï꧆: †ÖÖ ÐÄMñ LÖñG. §ïñ¢ê ßê£ðrê ¥ðµr åñ¢ê§†ðr§ wêrê êvêñ rð¢kïñg ïñ †hêïr ¢råÐlê§.” The monster then cupped his chin with one of his many maladjusted hands, casually drumming another set of crooked digits on the jeep’s hood. “ÄñÐ Ì'm håþþ¥ †ð åñ§wêr †hê ð†hêr§. . .ï£ ¥ðµ ¢ðmê 𵆠hêrê.”

The nausea was stubborn, but Penn still managed to furrow his brow and roll his eyes. “Right, right. Why wouldn’t we have a meet n’ greet with the same thing that just tried to kill us?”

“ßê¢åµ§ê ¥ðµ ÖWÈ mê!” The monster snapped, a metallic screech mixing into his tone as he dragged his claws along. 

Illinois blinked incredulously. “How do you figure that?”

The monster resumed pacing around the jeep—well, slithering was probably a better term, since he didn’t seem to move any muscles or make any sort of effort. And yet he moved with fluid, frightening speed.

“¥ðµ †wð £rêêÐ mê. W̆HÖÚ† £ïñÐïñg å wå¥ †ð ¢ðññꢆ ¥ðµr§êlvê§ †ð mê, Ì mïgh† åÐÐ.”

The jeep as a whole suddenly dipped, leaving Penn to presume that the monster was now leaning on the top. He thanked his lucky stars that the sunroof’s fabric panel was closed against the glass.

“. . .Technically, that damn boulder freed you,” Illinois argued. 

“¥êåh, wêll, ¥ðµ ßrðµgh† †hê ßðµlÐêr hêrê ïñ †hê £ïr§† þlå¢ê!” The monster sputtered. “Ì£ ¥ðµ †hïñk ¥ðµ ¢åñ jµ§† wålk åwå¥ £rðm whå† håþþêñêÐ êårlïêr, †hêñ Ì'vê gð† §ðmê ñï¢ê ßêå¢h-§ïÐê þrðþêr†¥ ïñ †hê †hðµ§åñÐ-È¥êÐ †ï¢k Qµêêñ'§ þð¢kê† Ðïmêñ§ïðñ †ð §êll ¥ðµ.”

“Ha! Four-and-a-half vengeance curses have been put on my head, and I managed to get through all of them!” Illinois craned his neck to aim a smug smirk at the monster. “If dodging consequences was a sport, I’d be in the Hall of Fame.” 

The monster groaned, a huge forked tongue flicking in and out of his maw like a party favor. He began to mutter under his breath in a very much non-English language, closing each and every one of his eyes for almost a full minute. The way they all eventually snapped open again would’ve given anyone with trypophobia a stroke.

“†hå†'§ whå† ¥ðµ †hïñk rïgh† ñðw. Ì'vê ålrêåÐ¥ gð††êñ å gððÐ rêåÐ ðñ ¥ðµr §ðµl, åñÐ… 墆µåll¥, ñêvêr mïñÐ. Ì wðµlÐñ'† wåñ† †ð §þðïl åñ¥†hïñg.” The monster hummed with malicious delight. He then sighed, drumming whip-thin tendrils against the back window. “Lððk, ï§ ï† †hê §þïÐêr'§ £åµl† whêñ å ßµñ¢h 𣠣lïê§ gê† §†µ¢k ïñ  wêß? ñð. Må¥ßê †hê £lïê§ wï§h ï† wå§, ßµ† Ðêêþ Ððwñ †hê¥ kñðw †hå† †hê¥ gð† †hêm§êlvê§ †råþþêÐ.”

“Wow. It’s almost like the spider spun that web in the first place,” Penn muttered. 

“Èx墆l¥! ßê¢åµ§ê †hå†'§ †hê §þïÐêr'§ rïgh†. †hå†'§ jµ§† hðw §þïÐêr§ lïvê.” The monster peeked over that spot where the roof met the top of the windshield. “§ð, hðw ï§ ï† åñ¥ Ðêrêñ† ï£ Ì †åkê ¥ðµ?”

“If we had any way of actually knowing that you were somewhere in Chuck’s Hole, then we never would’ve gone poking around in it!” Illinois contended, raising his arms in a frustrated lame gesture.

And now it was the monster’s turn to blink. It took much longer than it probably should have “. . .Ì'm jµ§† gðññå ïgñðrê †hê £å¢† †hå† å hµmåñ ï§ ¢ållïñg m¥ þrï§ðñ ‘Çhµ¢k’§ Hðlê.’”

Penn froze again for three, maybe five seconds, before doing something he hadn’t thought was possible right now: he sputtered a laugh. It was a very small and very short-lived laugh, yes, but it still seemed to echo through the jeep’s interior. 

A name like Chuck’s Hole just had some weird magic to it. 

It was funny even when spoken by a gruesome Stephen-King-wet-dream-come-to-life whose voice sounded like broken glass that just so happened to be dripping with blood. 

Illinois swallowed a lump in his throat, glancing at Penn and offering a tiny, grateful smile. 

Hell, even the monster seemed to be biting back a grin at such a title; or, the extra mouth that had just opened up somewhere on his stomach-region was doing that, at least. The monster’s primary mouth continued to snarl, his front row of teeth actively lengthening and curving upward like tusks.

His weight disappeared from the jeep’s roof. Subsequent thumps and slight bounces were elicited from the undercarriage as he crawled beneath it, making Penn think of a shark lurking just below a fishing boat. 

“Öh ¢’mðñ, Ìllïñðï§. §ðmêðñê wï†h ¥ðµr ïñ§†ïñ¢†§, ¥ðµr êxþêrïêñ¢ê, ñð† ålrêåÐ¥ kñðwïñg †hå† §ðmê†hïñg lïkê mê wå§ wåï†ïñg £ðr ¥ðµ Ððwñ †hêrê?” The monster surged back up and stood right next to the driver-side door. He shrunk to the size of a normal man, but his eyes and mouth were still far too large as he peered at Illinois through the window. 

He nodded toward the mouth of the cavern and giggled, a chittering noise similar to an engine that was melting from the inside out. “¥ðµ ¢åñ'† §êrïðµ§l¥ êxþꢆ µ§ †ð ßêlïêvê †hå†.”

Rotating his head at a 270 degree angle, the monster leaned closer, just enough so that the discolored steam of his breath fogged up the glass. The horribly strange sweetness that could only ever waft off of rotting flesh seeped into the car. 

“ñð, ¥ðµ håÐ å £êêlïñg åß𵆠mê. †hå†'§ wh¥ ¥ðµ wåñ†êÐ ¥ðµr £rïêñÐ hêrê †ð ¢ðmê ålðñg, ï§ñ'† ï†? †ð gïvê hïm å §†ðr¥ †hå† wðµlР墆µåll¥ ßê ïmþrꧧïvê †ð †êll? †ð §hðw hïm å rêål ¢hållêñgê? †ð †ê§† hïm åñÐ þrðvê †hå† hê §†ïll ¢åñ'† håñÐlê å§ mµ¢h å§ ¥ðµ ¢åñ?”

For the very first time all day, the energy drained from Illinois’ features. 

His mouth dropped, opening and closing with no words coming out. His eyes bulged from their sockets, contorted by his brow as a dark, slick, awful form of guilt welled inside them. 

He forcefully bowed his head, now trying to keep his focus on the steering wheel and only the steering wheel.

He’d shown fear before, but this was different. 

This was despair. 

 “NO!”

The monster’s head snapped up, now gazing through the jeep, past Illinois, who didn’t dare budge an inch.

Penn dug his nails into the armrest, feeling beads of sweat materialize on his forehead. He’d surprised himself before, but never quite like this. 

“ÐïÐ Ì hêår ¥ðµ rïgh†?” Some of the monster’s eyes narrowed in time with how his smile sharpened. “ÇðµlÐ ¥ðµ rêþêå† †hå† £ðr mê?”

“I said NO!” Penn echoed, his heart beating with the speed of a phantom hummingbird. “Illinois didn’t drag me into anything! We made the mutual decision to come here!”

Penn’s throat was raw from all the acidic bile he’d been keeping down, his jaw ached as though he’d just sprinted in a marathon. 

“He doesn’t think any less of me just because my work is different from his! He’s never tried to test me before, and that’s not what he was doing today! He’s one of my best friends! We work on projects like this because we respect each other! You’re wrong!”

In his peripheral vision, he watched as Illinois kept his head down, quiet as a statue. Aside from the way his hands trembled, it truly seemed like he would never move again.

“. . .Mê? Wrðñg?” Amusement crept into the monster’s rolling eyes. He seemed to tsk-tsk at Penn’s statement, unwinding the sound into a mess of clicks and hisses. “ ñ È V È R . ”

Penn blinked, and the monster was suddenly looming right outside the passenger door. Now staring at him through the quickly-fogging glass. 

It was all Penn could do to not shrink back as the monster bared his teeth. “Wh¥ §hðµlÐ ¥ðµ þµ† ðñ åïr§, ¢ðñ§ïÐêrïñg whå† ¥ðµr ¢ðµ§ïñ§ årê Ððïñg?”

Penn's shoulders slumped out of raw, blind confusion. “. . .W-wha—?”

The monster smirked like the leader of a high school gossip-mill. “Öñê 𣠥ðµr ¢ðµ§ïñ§ W̧Hȧ hê håÐ †êê†h lïkê mïñê. Hê jµ§† LÖVȧ ßï†ïñg ïñ†ð †hê þïñk §†rꆢh 𣠣lê§h! Hê måkê§ hï§ lïvïñg §lïÐïñg kñïvê§ ålðñg §kïñ åñÐ §¢råþïñg †hêm ågåïñ§† ßðñê§. W冢hïñg lï£ê Ðråïñ 𵆠ð£ ê¥ê§ åñÐ †hrð冧 åñÐ £êêlïñg ï† rµ§h ðvêr hï§ håñЧ, åll wårm åñÐ rêÐ.”

As the monster spoke, the grin on his face kept growing. . .and growing. . .and growing. His lips just didn’t stop peeling back, didn’t stop stretching. A grotesque amount of new teeth had to materialize to fill his expression.

In less than a minute, the monster’s entire face was a maw, his eyes having been overtaken by the layers upon layers of enamel and sinew.

“. . .Öh, ÐïÐñ'† ¥ðµ kñðw †hå†, þêññ? ÐïÐñ'† ¥ðµ kñðw †hå† ðñê 𣠥ðµr ¢ðµ§ïñ§ ï§ å ßµ†¢hêr? ÐÌÐñ'† ¥ÖÚ?!” The monster then threw his head back and laughed, revealing multiple sets of malformed jaws nestled inside his hellish smile.

The oily haze tugged at Penn’s guts yet again. It hurt in the same, surreal way as before. . .but not quite as much. This time, while he was definitely losing something he still couldn’t identify, it came out in more of an unsteady trickle than a firm, ruthless pace. 

It was similar to a nightmare. It almost felt real, but it just couldn’t fully exist. Not while there was a physical shield between prey and predator.

Sooner or later, the monster’s laughing fit died down to mere giggles. That wasn’t much of an improvement, since the giggles in question felt like drops of boiling water to the ears, but at least it wasn’t as loud. 

“Jµ§† §ðmê†hïñg †ð ¢hêw ðñ,” the monster mentioned. “Må¥ßê µ§ê lïñê§ lïkê †hå† ï£ ¥ðµ §êê hïm; Ì †hïñk hê'Ð åþþrê¢ïå†ê ï†.”

Penn knew he should’ve passed out by now. He should’ve crumpled onto the glove compartment and accidentally set off the airbags (thankfully, Illinois wasn’t in the proper headspace to get angry at something like that) and stayed that way until he was forcefully woken up at a hospital. 

But he was still awake, so his subconscious decided that he might as well keep on surprising himself. 

“Sure,” he replied, voice hollow and quiet. “I’ll take advice from something that can’t even break a single damn window.” 

Those layers of teeth pulled away from the monster’s face, letting his eyes reappear just in time to give Penn a vicious, appraising look that reached into him and made his pancreas break into a cold sweat. 

The monster clicked one of his tongues again. “Mðxïê.”

Then, with a terrible cr-i-i-i-ck, the monster’s head turned away, taking his focus off of Penn and directing toward the space behind the jeep. A shudder ran through his contorting body; his eyes all widened as he rolled his shoulders.

Heart in his throat, Penn’s eyes ventured to the rearview mirror. The reflection was still and silent; nothing but rocky sand that made up the ground, complimented by the dry shrubs and cacti growning here and there. More rock spires stood patiently, looking like simple smudges in the air due to the distance, just barely visible in the moonlight. 

Penn felt his stomach drop for what had to be the sixty-ninth time today.

THE MOONLIGHT. . .

The sun had set. Everything was dark now. 

“Äh, †hå†'§ mµ¢h ßꆆêr. ßrïgh†ñꧧ åñÐ hêå† måkê§ mê h,” the monster announced, his twisted voice forcibly snagging Penn’s focus and shoving it in the right direction.

The monster slid back from the jeep, still in full-view of its occupants from the windshield. He remained the size of a human, with a shape that was almost convincing. 

Almost was the key word here, since most humans didn’t tend to have an assortment of eye-and-mouth-covered tentacles where a pair of legs should’ve been. 

“Gµê§§ ï†'§ ¥ðµr lµ¢k¥ Ðå¥, ßð¥§!” The monster chirped, sarcasm mixed with a fair bit of unholy venom dripping from his maw. “Ì mïgh† †ê¢hñï¢åll¥ håvê åll †hê †ïmê ïñ †hê wðrlÐ, ßµ† Ì'vê ålrêåÐ¥ w姆êÐ êñðµgh ð£ ï† hêrê.”

He swayed from side-to-side like a flower caught in a gentle breeze. A third eye opened up in the center of his forehead, pitch-black with a shaking, shining white pupil. It squinted at Penn in a mocking-yet-thoughtful way. 

A distinct pinching sensation bloomed under the skin of Penn’s face, followed by a faint dripping noise in the back of his head.

The monster snickered as the third eye sunk back into whatever special kind of hell was lurking inside him. “§ðmê §å¥ ¥ðµ'rê ñêvêr ålðñê ïñ †hê Ðårk. ÄñÐ å§ †rµê å§ †hå† ï§. . .†hê Ðårk ï§ñ'† whå† ¥ðµ ñêêÐ †ð wðrr¥ åßðµ†. ¥ðµ kñðw wh¥?”

Grotesque stretching noises ripped through the quiet as his skin split on several different areas of his body, like seams bursting on a raggedy doll.

“ßê¢åµ§ê †hê êx墆 §åmê †hïñg gðê§ £ðr ¥ÖÚR MÌñÐ.”

Without warning, the monster’s form began to unravel. 

His writhing, warping flesh almost seemed paper-thin. Strips of it tore themselves away in various sizes, first lapping at the air around him, and then curling through it. 

“ñð m円êr whêrê ¥ðµ gð, whå† ¥ðµ §êê ðr Ðð, hðw ¥ðµ †hïñk åñÐ Ðrêåm åñÐ lïvê. . .”

They all formed a shadowy a halo around him, moved with the same impossible sychronized grace as a school of fish. The process was a blur, moving too quickly and too slowly.

“†hêrê'll ålw奧 ßê ð†hêr †hïñg§ wåï†ïñg £ðr ¥ðµ ïñ †hêrê. ÄLWÄ¥§.”

The strips of skin began to dissolve into nothingness, the same way wisps of steam would vanish as soon as they climbed high enough. All at once, the only seemingly solid parts left were the monster’s primary eyes, as well as his jagged, glinting teeth. Those features hung in the air, glowing and staring and grinning like some psychotic bastardization of the Cheshire Cat. 

“Wêll, †hå†'§ åßðµ† ï† £ðr ñðw. Ì'll £ïñÐ ¥ðµ ågåïñ §ðmêÐå¥!”

The eyes flickered, melting in place. The teeth gnashed, abandoning their structured rows in favor of gliding around in a tight, sharp circle. 

“  Ì ' l l   £ ï ñ Ð   ¥ ð µ   å g å å å å å ï ï ï ñ  ! ”

And then. . .they were gone. 

Just like that.

As if nothing had even been there in the first place.

Penn stared at the empty space for what felt like an hour. Then a strong, salty, metallic taste dribbled into his mouth and broke the spell. The organic stench clung to the back of his throat, feeling dry and moist at the same time. He shook his head in revulsion.

Thanks to the lack of light, his reflection in the car window was just an inch away from not being visible at all. The amount of blood seeping from his nose changed that rather quickly. His hands moved in a mechanical manner, fishing napkins and tissues from the glovebox to wad up and press against his face.

Illinois was still holding his head low, shivering, knuckles white around the steering wheel.

Not-so-distant memories of the chamber came flooding in, and before Penn knew it, his free hand was wrapping around the Warden, tugging it away from the rearview mirror and pushing it up to Illinois’ temple. 

A shudder ran through the adventurer’s shoulders before they visibly loosened up. His grip slackened. But his jaw was still clenched, and his eyes were still glued to his lap.

So, Penn did the next best thing: he gripped the ends of the Warden’s string and rotated his fist, making the totem spin in a circle. A breathy whistle began to cut through the silence.

Once the creepy little doll was a blur, Penn grabbed Illinois’ hat and flung it to the backseat. He then flicked his wrist, causing it to crash against the top of Illinois’ head.

The ensuing thunk! was promptly drowned out as Illinois all but trebucheted himself against the window. “—aaaAAAUUGH GETOUTGETOUTGETOUT!”

“Hey! Heyheyhey! Illinois! Illinois, calm down!” Penn cried, grabbing his companion’s arm. 

Illinois’ movements slowed, and eventually stopped, though his chest heaved in and out with unnecessary force. He gazed at Penn with wide, bloodshot eyes. 

Penn quietly reached under his seat and produced one of many spare water bottles. The plastic was sweaty, the ice inside having melted long ago, but still cold to the touch. He offered it to Illinois, who shakily took it and started chugging. 

“Not too fast, you’ll make yourself sick,” Penn half-heartedly coached as he shoved the tissues into a trash bag by his shoes. His nose should’ve taken longer to stop bleeding.

Illinois’ voice was a sopping-wet wheeze as he finally put the bottle down, having emptied half of its contents. “. . .Feel like that’s the least of our worries.” 

“Don’t remind me.” 

Penn set the Warden down on the dashboard, sliding it across to its owner. 

Illinois didn’t hesitate to grab it and hold it close to his chest like a little boy who’d just found a beloved stuffed animal he’d lost a couple weeks ago. He closed his eyes, gently tapping his fingers against the doll’s head in a quick, specific rhythm. This carried on for a moment, and some of the tension drained away from his features. His breathing slowed into a little sigh. 

His eyes snapped back open and automatically began squinting at Penn. 

The paleontologist raised his hands in a confused, defensive gesture. 

“Where’s the pipe?” Illinois murmured. 

Penn pursed his lips as he nodded at the windshield. The Chimera Pipe was, indeed, still out there, laying on the ground in a way that made it seem to be staring at the sky.

Illinois nodded, clicking his tongue. “Go get it.” 

Penn flinched, eyes darting over to the mouth of the cave. To the palpable-looking darkness that waited further inside. . .

“He’s gone, Penn,” Illinois reassured, though his face twisted at such a gruesomely obvious mention. “If he was still here, we’d both feel it. Trust me.”

It took another awkward minute for Penn to reach over and grab the door’s handle. He sucked in a deep breath through his teeth and sprinted out, nearly tripping into a slide on the dusty gravel.

Then the car door was slamming shut and he was back in his seat, this time with the beastly ocarina resting on his lap. It grinned up at him, its bruise-colored paint shining in the dim light. 

Penn was so caught up in staring at its little eye-holes that he didn’t hear the jingle of keys or the engine finally starting to rumble. (He barely even noticed the string of profanities on Illinois’ part.)

For the next five minutes or so, the only thing to register was the rumbling of tires beneath his feet. 

Finally, Penn forced himself to break the silence. “. . .So, we’re going back to the hotel?”

Illinois nodded, not taking his eyes off of the road. “And once we get there, we’re packing up and heading home.”

Under normal circumstances, that type of last-minute nonsense would’ve left Penn all sorts of aggravated. But these circumstances were nowhere near normal. Even with how late it was, how Penn was feeling a type of fatigue that should only come after you had all but a pint of blood sucked out by a swarm of mosquitos, Penn knew he wouldn’t be able to get any sleep tonight. Not for the next couple nights, really.

“We’ll have to call a company before we leave, though,” Illinois sighed. “To get Chuck’s Hole sealed off, I mean. No-one else can go down there. It might have other. . .things waiting.”

A small, vague hum was the only response Penn could come up with. That was what confirmed how the rest of the night wasn’t exactly going to be pleasant; the title wasn’t even enough to make him or his friend laugh like before.

Illinois seemed to glance at him, to catch the state of his features, to maybe even read his mind for a second or two. “Things’ll turn up, Penn. I can guess how you’re feeling right now, but that’s just because it’s your first time dealing with something like this. We’ll both bounce back, I swear.”

Penn turned the Chimera Pipe in his hands, drumming his fingers on its clay teeth. “Be honest: does the whole ‘happens to the best of us’ schtick really apply right now?”

“Yeah, it does,” Illinois said in a matter-of-fact tone. “I’ve had worse experiences.” 

Penn rolled his eyes, bracing his elbow near the window to rest his cheek against his palm. “Oh, let me guess: sometime before you even met me, you wound up accidentally releasing a surreal-horror-manifest just like the one who was looking at us like someone wheeled out a birthday cake?”

Illinois’ face went blank for several seconds, making a clear effort to stay focused on driving rather than stare at his companion with unfathomable dark eyes. 

Fortunately for him, Penn took on staring for the both of them, now worried. “Illinois?”

Illinois sighed again, lightly shaking his head. “. . .I wouldn’t say that guy was exactly like the one we just saw. For one thing, he was on the other side of a door at the end of a hall—”

“You’re kidding.”

Illinois didn’t answer. 

“Please tell me you’re kidding,” Penn repeated, voice completely and utterly deadpan. “Please. You have so much to live for.” 

“You’re right, I do.” Illinois snorted, seemingly in spite of  himself. “That’s why I take the Warden with me everywhere. That’s why I string it up on the door before I go to bed. So I don’t have to hear any knocking or demands or bribes or. . .” He trailed off, hands slowly but surely starting to shake on the steering wheel again. 

One of Penn's sore eyes twitched. He didn’t want to close them; closing them would only conjure images of writhing flesh, of too many eyes where there shouldn’t be eyes, of too many teeth where there shouldn’t be teeth. 

Still, he had to. He had to close them and knead at him forehead in a strange effort to keep his braincells intact.  “. . .Oh my God, Illi. . .”

The jeep shuddered as Illinois drove, the sandy road a bit loose under its tires. 

The blurry figures of cacti stood almost at attention as the duo passed them by; a tiny owl poked its head out of a hole in the base of one, its huge, curious eyes shining in the dark. If you concentrated, you could just make out the howls of coyotes somewhere off in the distance. 

Illinois spoke up again, a hefty dose of hesitation having been injected into his voice. “What did he mean about your cousins?”

A spark of cold energy rattled through Penn’s ribs and plummeted into his stomach. “I didn’t think you actually heard that.”

“Well, I did. What did he mean when he said. . .those things?” Illinois coughed.

“I. . .” Penn stayed quiet for a moment before sighing again, this time with an air that was more anxious than tired. “I have absolutely no idea. I haven’t seen or heard from either of them since we were kids.”

Illinois considered this. The thoughtfulness in his eyes wasn’t a hopeful type. “You really don’t know?”

Penn shook his head. “No, I don’t.”

Illinois cringed, carefully sending a concerned look his companion’s way. “If that’s the case, then you need to find out sometime.” 

Penn didn’t know how to reply to that. 

So, he settled on gazing at the sky through the window, nervously taking in the moon’s silvery glow, trying to ignore what felt like sharp teeth wrapped around his lungs.

@sammys-magical-au @insane4fandoms @im-a-weird0 @b-is-in-the-closet

[bloodmoon24]

Was messing around the incorrect quotes generator cuz I was mostly inspired by ur partner with xer chazmint quotes and I wanted to fuck around with them - anyway, here's sum w/ staticradio, mixedtime and, introducing, chazmint to the mix :)

Melissa: Hey, what have you two been doing? Kitty: we were helping Papermint with his wedding vows and we were kicked out of their house for making it inappropriate. Travis: How is “Nice ass, Chaz” inappropriate?

Vox: Guys, I’ve been meaning to tell you… Alastor and I are dating. Alastor, Velvette, Rosie, and Charlie: gasp Vox: Al, why are you surprised?!

Bezel: Hey, I was wondering, have any of you guys ever seen Chaz's bedroom? Vox : No, he refuse to let any of us visit. You know what that means. Trazuil, nodding: Dungeon. Bezel, nodding: Rich. Alastor, nodding: Homeless. Feedback, nodding: Secretly in the mafia. Vox: What? No, I meant he's messy. What the hell is wrong with all of you?

Chaz: You know, when Bezel comes over, Trazuil can get a little… Vox : Psycho? Papermint: Scary? Alastor: Drunk? Chaz: All three.

Trazuil: Look, last night was a mistake. Bezel : A sexy mistake. Trazuil: No, just a regular mistake.

Vox : Dom or sub? Alastor: I guess Domino's, since I don't go to Subway that much. Don't see why you'd put them in the same category though.

Alastor: Hey, I’m getting in the shower. Wanna help me out? Vox : …Have you never taken a shower before?

Bezel : You look good in that hoodie. Trazuil: You know where else I'd look good? Bezel , zero hesitation: My bed. Trazuil, at the same time: By your side- wait, what?

Trazuil: look Bezel , I'm not slut shaming you but… Trazuil: Actually yeah, I'm TOTALLY slut shaming you.

Alastor: Vox , what do you call people you go out with but don’t try to sleep with? Vox : …People?

Vox: Is it still visible? Where Alastor slapped me? Bezel : Your face looks like a don't walk signal. Chaz: Your face looks like a photo negative for the hamburger helper box. Trazuil: A palm reader could tell Alastor's future by looking at your face. Feedback: The phrase 'talk to the hand cause the face ain't listening' doesn't work for you, because the hand is your face. Vox: …A simple 'yes' would've sufficed.

Papermint: Chaz kissed me! Bezel : Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God! Papermint: It was unbelievable! Bezel : Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God! Vox: Okay, we wanna hear everything. Bezel, get the wine and unplug the phone. Papermint, does this end well or do we need tissues? Papermint: Oh, it ended very well. Bezel : Do not start without me! Do not start without me! Vox: Okay, alright, let’s hear about the kiss. Was it a soft brush against your lips or was it like a, you know, “I gotta have you now” kind of thing? Papermint: Well, at first it was really intense, you know? And then, oh God, and then we just sort of sunk into it. Vox: Ohh… So, okay, was he holding you? Or was his hands on your back? Papermint: First he started out on my waist and then they slid up and then they were in my hair. Bezel and Vox: Ohhh. meanwhile Chaz eating pizza in the apartment: And, uh, and then I kissed him. Alastor: Tongue? Chaz: Yeah. Travis: Cool.

Chaz: Are you an F5 key? Because that ass is refreshing. Papermint: Are you a software update? because not right now.

Papermint: I don't need to go to bed. I'm not tired, I'll be fine. Chaz: But, darling, I'll be so lonely without you. Come curl up in my arms so I can feel whole again. Papermint: O-oh. Well. Are you trying to seduce me into healthy sleeping patterns?? Chaz: Is it working?

I am very proud of myself 4 doing this >:D

-📼 anon

Hahahahah!! I love these! I even recognized some of these!

[oliviabutsmart]

Physics Friday #8: E = mc^2; the most famous equation in history

Well I didn't really have anything else that I could write up in an hour, so I might as well use the topic idea I had already announced as a proper idea.

Preamble: The Equation Itself

Education level: High School (Y9/10)

Topic: Relativity, Particle Physics (Physics)

E = mc² - what does it mean? Well of course you may have heard the phrase "Energy is equivalent or can be converted into mass" but like ... how exactly?

People who've done a bit of reading into this know that this equation also isn't the full picture. Because this equation describes only the resting energy of an object i.e. the energy of something that is not moving at all.

This equation actually has the capacity to encapsulate the TOTAL energy of something, not just the "mass energy" of the particle.

We also need to ask what we mean by energy or mass. That's what we'll cover first.

What is Energy?

Energy, just like a lot of things, gets very abstract. Energy is here, energy is there, energy is everywhere!

This vapid and confusing description of energy often gets taken advantage of by those people, y'know the quacks and the sort.

Energy is actually a much more grounded thing that we can understand.

Work - The Electron Gets a Job

Energy is founded in the concept of work. Work comes in many forms, but is usually introduced under the definition of mechanical work:

The capacity to move an object with mass a particular distance; Work = Force × Distance

With this, work is rather simple, it's just about the ability to move heavy objects around.

What we do next is we need a definition of energy. We can almost intrinsically link work to energy using mechanical kinetic energy:

Mechanical kinetic energy is the capacity to do work and is created by an application of work.

This form of energy is intrinsically tied to both work and momentum. It is quite literally circularly related to work itself. Work is the capacity to change an object's kinetic energy.

The difference is that work is an act while kinetic energy is a property. They exist by their very nature.

Now, mechanical kinetic energy isn't the only type of energy. There's thermal energy, potential energy, and non-mechanical kinetic energy. these types are defined as follows:

Energy is the capacity to do work.

This may seem the same as the previous definition, but note that it is different. Not all forms of energy can be directly be the result of work. But instead there consists of a chain of several reactions and actions that eventually leads to the energy we want.

This very core definition of energy is what we say is 'everywhere'. The air itself contains thermal energy. You can pull energy out of the heat of the atmosphere - that's how things like melting or water evaporation works.

Electromagnetic radiation also contains energy, in the sense that light can interact with objects and push them i.e. doing work.

What and Why is Mass?

Mass is a bit different, primarily because we don't actually have a singular definition of mass. It changes based on the fact that it has multiple properties and sources.

Inertial Mass

This type of mass appears to be the most fundamental. It comes from the equation F = ma, or p = mv.

Inertial mass is the capacity to resist changes in momentum.

When you try to apply work to an object's 'inertia', or your momentum, its mass will make it harder to move it. You can see it in the formula. More force is required in order to accelerate an object when more mass is present.

An object with infinite mass is 'unmovable', as an infinite amount of force is always needed.

This form of mass is fundamental as it is affected by all forces.

Gravitational Mass

Gravity is one force of many, which is very strange, as both momentum and gravitational attraction are described by one component.

Gravitational Mass is the capacity to produce a gravitational field.

This type of mass acts like a charge, that causes objects to become attracted to each other.

The Discrepancy

The difficulty in aligning GR with QFT is partly because of the fact that we cannot seperate the universal concept of inertial mass with gravitational mass.

Let's say we have two electrons, and look at the first electron: The electron will be influenced by the other due to electricity:

F ~ q² (q is the charge of the electron) But this electron will also be affected by gravity: F ~ m² (m is the mass of the electron) Now let's find the acceleration of the electron: a ~ m - q²/m Now look at this equation and notice something. The electron is affected by electricity via a ratio between charge and mass, whereas gravity appears as just the mass term alone.

The discrepancy is why is gravity the only force where we can end up 'getting rid' of terms instead of having a messy division? Why is gravitational charge equal to inertial mass?

Relativistic Mass

When developing special relativity, Einstein noticed how he could combine the principles of time dilation and length contraction to prove his famous equation E = mc².

In his proof, he used inertial mass and mechanical kinetic energy to draw the equivalence. However, this picture is incomplete.

The actual equation is this: E = γmc², where γ is the lorentz factor, something intrinsically tied to the object's speed.

This gives us a notion of relativistic inertial mass, mass that both resists changes in motion but

When we end up expanding this, we get:

E² = (mc²)² + (pc)² + (terms that are too small for us to care about)

This gives us the actual energy of the particle, combining the rest mass and the momentum of the particle to get the total energy.

Still, you might not get the equivalence. And really, we have two different ways to explain this equivalence ...

The Higgs Mechanism

Now I'm not crazy enough to explain the Higgs mechanism in this post yet but what I will say is how particles get their mass.

You see, at the quantum level, particles are actually just wave excitations in the field. The notions of where a particle is or not is kind of meaningless.

And whaddya know? Waves are much easier to understand as to why they have energy, the constant movement and flow demonstrates an intrinsic energy.

Certain particle waves end up interacting with what's known as the Higgs field, a consequence of the many symmetries in QFT.

This interaction turns these particles' loose and vapid energy, into something meaningful - a mass that can be used to inertially interact with other particles.

QFT of course cannot account for gravitational mass, as QFT has no way to demonstrate gravity or warped spacetime. General Relativity works much better ... specifically because it is a theory about gravity.

General Relativity

GR, as stated, is a theory about gravity. GR treats inertial and gravitational mass the same without an issue. And in-fact really emphasises the equivalence between energy and mass.

Mass and energy determines the Stress-Energy tensor, which is a tensor focused entirely on the movement and position of energy and matter, which are treated as identical here:

Image credit: Wikipedia

Here, we don't even care what it's made of, just where it's going and how much of it is there. Because all that matters is that it curves spacetime and can be affected by this spacetime.

Conclusion

Well, while this is a short (and rather rushed) post. For some reason I got IP blocked on discord so I gotta solve that issue now. It doesn't help when you have to deal with a late-semester university schedule.

Like said, feedback and follows are welcome. I'll see you later!

[heretyc]

Outlast Characters and a variant S/O

"I don't want to go among mad people!"

"Oh, you can't help that. Most everyone's mad, here. You may have noticed...that I'm not all there myself..." - The Cheshire Cat

Synopsis: You're a variant who escaped from Murkoff amongst the chaos and the bloodshed. You're more aware of your madness than the others, and you always have a way of escaping danger.

You're essentially like the Cheshire Cat. I totally didn't get inspired after watching Disney's Alice in Wonderland or anything like that...

Again, these can be seen as platonic or romantic. All up to you.

Enjoy!

(❁)----------------------------------------------------------------------

Miles finds you amusing the moment he sees you grinning and making remarks about his missing fingers. Your outfit is stained with blood, yet none of your own, and he can tell you're a tough cookie. You intrigue him.

Waylon is freaked out. He doesn't want to be rude, as you clearly went through hell here, and the last thing you needed was to be told that you were horrifying, but you just... weird him out. Your eyes are unblinking, you hum, your grins are wide and unsettling...he's surprised you haven't shoved a knife in him, yet. He guides you out, but he's cautious.

Blake is reminded of Val, if he's being honest. You both act somewhat alike, even your outfits were somewhat alike; you're wearing a dirty uniform that obviously came from an asylum, and Val wore remains of their cassock. He'd much rather deal with a variant than a cultist, he's sure of that. You're helpful, too. Giving him hints and deciphering the Latin phrases scattered among the town of Temple Gate.

Lynn is reminded of Val, too. You were taken in hours earlier, and you found your way to Lynn after traversing through the tunnels. You looked to her pregnant stomach with a look of knowing and a chilling grin, questioning her if she knew her child was one of delusion and falseness. She was...confused as to what you meant, but you wouldn't continue. Val, however, got a little angry at you for suggesting that their lord was nothing but a simple trick of the mind. You didn't seem to care, however.

Trager is intrigued, as well. You popped up in his little section of the asylum, curious about his work, and he didn't have the ability to shoo you away or steal your tongue. He tried so hard to understand you, and yet he couldn't, to his dismay. You're a hell of a lot more interesting than the priest or his little buddy.

Jeremy is freaked the fuck out and thinks you're trying to get revenge on him. He remembers the day he submitted you, and yet here you are, looking into his eyes with wild hair, blood on your uniform, and an unsettling grin that showed off your teeth. He starts to get used to you once you help him escape from the other variants. You know he'll succumb to the Walrider, anyway. Might as well give him hope...

Eddie is fascinated. He could squash you like a bug, and this is something you tell him, but he doesn't wish to. Much like Trager, he tries to understand you. You're so silent, and whenever he's enraged, you're always...gone. He loves the grin on your face, because he has the same exact one!

Walrider and you are one and the same. You disappear at will and love to mess with the other variants. He doesn't care for you that much.

Frank Manera is...freaked out by you. The scary, cannibalistic variant wielding a saw is scared of a silent yet witty variant with a horrifying grin and a wise gaze. He doesn't even try to eat you. The last time he threatened you with a saw, you just grinned at him, your teeth and eyes the only things apparent in the dark room. He felt vulnerable.

Chris doesn't care whatsoever, and is far too focused on locating the Walrider. However, he does find the grinning variant that roams around the upper floors of the asylum a tad too...strange.

Marta is convinced God sent you as a sign to make her stop her 'righteous' activities. Your eyes shine a menacing white, and so do your teeth, and you're all she sees when roaming the dark fields of Temple Gate. She threatens you with a glare and a wave of her weapon, but by the time she's near where you were last standing, you're gone without a trace. Maybe Val sent you as a spy? Who knows.

Val fucking ADORES YOU. An escaped variant from god knows where, they think you're a blessing with your scary aura and your knowledge about their god [which you know nothing about, you just enjoy feeding them bullshit. It's kept you alive]. Your eyes are as white as theirs, and they find you mysterious. You're an enigma. The heretics love hearing you make remarks and rhyme about things. The members of the New Testament used to attempt to ambush the heretics, but after seeing you appear near every entrance with a menacing grin, they've halted all efforts.

Laird and Nick have opposing views. Laird thinks you're a demon of some sort, as no human being has such white eyes, and Nick finds you cool. He enjoys hearing you read to him, as your voice is as smooth as silk.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Ryan Burge

Published: May 15, 2023

The last forty years of politics and religion has been focused squarely on the ascendancy of the Religious Right. I must admit that I’ve probably contributed my fair share to that discourse, as well.

A motley crew of white evangelicals and traditional Catholics locked arms on some social issues, started voting in large numbers for Republican candidates, and changed American politics forever.

But I think that era of religion and politics is rapidly coming to a close. The Religious Right is no longer a primarily religious movement - it’s one about cultural conservativism and nearly blind support for the GOP with few trappings of any real religiosity behind it.

Here’s what I believe to be the emerging narrative of the next several decades: the rise of atheism and their unbelievably high level of political engagement in recent electoral politics. Let me put it plainly: atheists are the most politically active group in American politics today and the Democrats (and some Republicans) ignore them at their own peril.

The data is clear and unequivocal on this point - no one gets involved in the political process to the level of the average atheist.

The Cooperative Election Study always asks a nice little battery of questions about political engagement. It’s phrased simply as: have you done any of the following activities in the previous month? Because the CES is fielded in the height of election season, if someone was going to get politically active, they would be doing so in October or November of an election year.

The group that is most likely to contact a public official? Atheists.

The group that puts up political signs at the highest rates? Atheists.

HALF of atheists report giving to a candidate or campaign in the 2020 presidential election cycle.

And while they don’t lead the pack when it comes to attending a local political meeting, they only trail Hindus by four percentage points.

For those curious, here’s a link to the 2022 results - they are bit muddier because it’s an off-year election. But the same general consensus is there: atheists do a lot of political stuff in an average year.

To simplify this analysis, I added all six activities into a single index. In this case, a six represents the highest level of engagement, while a zero represents someone who was not involved in politics at all surrounding the 2020 election.

Same conclusion as before: atheists take part in plenty of political actions - 1.52 to be exact. The overall average in the entire sample was .91 activities. The average atheist is about 65% more politically engaged than the average American.

Of course, political activity does not merely derive from religious affiliation (or lack thereof). There are myriad factors that make one more or less inclined to participate in the democratic process. For instance, giving to a candidate or campaign requires having some disposable income. Attending a local school board meeting is difficult for someone who works a night shift.

Atheists typically score very high on a number of SES factors including education and income, so maybe this is just a product of having lots of disposable income and free time. To test that I put together a simple regression model with a number of control variables that could potentially impact political participation. The dependent variable was total number of political activities over the previous month.

The results here are clear and unambiguous - atheists are more likely to engage in political activities at every level of education compared to Protestants, Catholics or Jews. For instance, an atheist with a high school diploma reports .7 activities, that’s at least .2 higher than any other religious group.

Political engagement is clearly related to education, though. The more educated one is, the more likely they are to be politically active. But at every step of the education scale, atheists lead the way. Sometimes those gaps are incredibly large. A college educated atheist engages in 1.7 activities, it’s only 1.05 activities for a college educated evangelical.

That’s the point I want to drive home in this post - people seem to believe that evangelicals are incredibly politically active. Their pastors are preaching sermons about which candidates to vote for, their churches have voter registration drives in the lobby, they encourage their members to attend pro-life protests and lobby legislators to pass anti-trans bills. And, they absolutely do that, but not nearly at the level that atheists are involved in the political process.

Just look at the gap in political donations in every election year between 2012 and 2022. There is no year in which the donation level of white evangelicals comes even close to that of the typical atheist. In fact, in an average election year, an atheist is twice as likely to donate money to a candidate or campaign compared to a white evangelical.

Of course, there’s something unspoken that may explain this discussion: white evangelicals are way more prevalent in the United States. According to the 2022 Cooperative Election Study, about 18% of adults in the United States are white evangelicals, while just over 6% identify as atheists. So, atheists would have to punch way above their weight to have the same impact in electoral politics.

But - here’s the thing: they clearly are. Here’s what I mean:

In the 2020 Cooperative Election Study, 4.7% of the entire sample were white evangelicals who reported donating to a candidate or campaign in the previous month. In comparison, 3.1% of the sample were atheists who made political donations. That gap is probably a lot smaller than many people would have guessed.

Assuming that atheists continue to give at a rate that is twice that of white evangelicals, here’s a very likely scenario going forward: atheists inch up by two or three percentage points, while white evangelical drop by two or three points. If that happens, then the number of atheists who give to candidates will be the same as the number of white evangelicals.

Of course, this doesn’t even consider agnostics, who also give at high rates and are at least six percent of the population, too. But it also leaves other conservative religious folks out of the conversation like White Catholics and Orthodox Jews.

The point remains however: atheists are a growing force in electoral politics. The days of white evangelical dominance are fading as the nones continue to rise. This shift will fundamentally change American religion and politics. And very few people seem to be paying attention.

[ Via: https://archive.today/WG9cR ]

[tonys-fav-bitch]

Plot Twist || Reader x Moonboys

Moon Knight AU

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: In which your boss sends you to keep an eye on a possible avengers recruit. You're tasked with following him, figuring out who he is, and if he's good enough for the team. That's it. But its never that simple.

Warnings: None (I don't think?)

Part 5

YOU WERE STOOD in the basement of the museum, staring at the large wall of inventory. You groaned at the sight and set your clipboard down, taking a step towards the products. You scanned over the plushies, t-shirts, and magnets. Your gaze stopped at bags of snacks, one being packs of gummies.

"Now what do gummies have to do with ancient Egypt?" You asked aloud as you looked over the bag, flipping it to read the back.

"That's what I said." Steven's voice sounded from behind you, startling you slightly.

You spun on your heels and met the man's gaze, smiles immediately forming on both of your lips. You chuckled at his comment and put the snack back on the shelf.

"What are you doing down here?" You questioned him.

It had been two days since your little meet up, and you couldn't help but admit that you were excited to see the man again. You knew you should be following him around, see what he's up to when no one else is around, but you couldn't bring yourself to do it. But, you knew you had to do it sooner or later. Fury would be calling for any updates and you couldn't exactly tell him that he was a vegan who loved ancient Egypt and his fish named Gus.

"I need a bin of Tawerets." He mumbled and pointed at the stuffed animals behind you.

You let out a small chuckle and grabbed the bin, handing it to him. He took it from your arms and stood there for a moment, thinking of what to say.

"Would you uh, like to come over this evening? Meet Gus? Talk about. . Uh work?" He phrased it all in a question.

"I would love that." You replied with a kind smile, pulling your phone out of your pocket, handing it to the man. He looked at the device in confusion and then to you, who laughed.

"Give me your number so I can text you." You pointed out and his face lit up with realization.

He quickly typed on the device before handing it back. He picked his bin of plushies up and gave you a shy look.

"I will text you later, love." He told you before heading off, back up to the gift shop.

You found yourself happily twirling your pen between your fingers as you thought about seeing him again. You stomped your foot and balled your fists at your own actions. You lightly facepalmed yourself.

How could you be feeling this way already? Or at all for that matter? Damn him and that precious smile of his. You grabbed your clipboard with force and continued your inventory check, your mind bouncing back and forth between Steven's sweet face and your anger for yourself.

☽ ♞ ☾

You were sat on the small balcony that was connected to your bedroom, a glass of water in hand. Your mind was wondering through so many different things - your mission, your new found affection for Steven, missing Peter and the team, and how the hell this sweet innocent man was a dangerous superhero.

It made no sense. He didn't seem to have a mean bone in his body. How was he being looked into for the Avengers? Had the agency finally lost it and were grasping at straws? You had no idea. But you were hoping to get a glimpse of him tonight when you went to his place.

The shrill ring of your phone brought you back to reality. You glanced at the name on the screen and couldn't help but laugh.

'Steven with a V is calling'

You clicked the accept button and spoke into the phone.

"Well hello there Steven with a V."

"Hello love. Are you ready?" He inquired, a smile plastered on his face.

"Of course. I'll be over shortly. ." You trailed off as you heard the man bickering with someone. You furrowed your brows as you tried to listen.

"Are you okay?"

"Oh uh yea! Totally fine, was just yelling at Gus." He sheepishly responded. You tilted your head at his response, not believing him but you played along.

"Well tell Gus to fix his attitude, I'll be over soon!" You interjected.

"I will, but he never listens. See you soon!"

☽ ♞ ☾

You found yourself at the front door of Steven's apartment. Your heart was pounding slightly and your stomach fluttered in nervousness.

"Ridiculous." You huffed at yourself as you knocked on the door.

You could hear the familiar patter of Steven's feet approaching the door. Seconds later, the door swung open to reveal a casually dressed Steven. His hair was slightly disheveled and he had a shy smile on his lips.

"Hey you." You greeted him as he moved to the side, allowing you to enter.

You looked around in interest as you took in the surroundings. You made note of all the books he had piled up. You then made your way over to his fish tank. Gus was an adorable orange fish who was swimming happily around in his crystal clear water.

"He's much more adorable than I imagined." You told the man who was nervously watching you.

"Yea, he's quite the looker." He joked as he scratched at the back of his neck.

You grinned and continued to look around his small apartment, coming up to his bed. You raised your eyebrows at the sand that was scattered around it, along with a chain.

"Should I be worried, Steven?" You lightheartedly joked as you pointed to the iron object laying on the floor.

"Oh uh, no no. I have a sleeping disorder. If I fall asleep, I end up sleep walking. . It's not a kink, I swear. " He admitted.

"If you sleep?" You countered curiously, trying not to laugh at his last statement.

"Yea I uh, tend to. . uh not. It's easier than feeling the aftermath of my travels." He assured you.

"You're probably so tired." You frowned at him.

"Uh, massively. But I manage. But please come sit. I talked all about myself the other night. Tell me about you." He insisted as he gently took you by the hand, leading you to the couch.

You happily plopped down on the comfy furniture and turned to face Steven who was doing the same.

"There's not much to tell about me. How about you tell me about the museum?" You told him, bringing your knees close to your chest. You hated talking about yourself, and you didn't wanna have to lie to the poor guy about who you really were.

He nodded his head and began rambling off information that he thought you would need to know. You chatted back and forth, cracking jokes and revealing simple things about one another.

Hours began to pass and you two fell in comfort with each other. Steven told you about the many places he had woken up in when he had accidentally let sleep over take him. You told him about the places you'd seen due to your 'old job'.

That's how the next few weeks would go. One would visit the other, you would chat for hours, learning new things and gaining new memories. And as each visit went by, you couldn't deny that your heart seemed to flutter for the awkward disheveled man.

Fury continued to nag you for updates, to tell him what you learned, but you couldn't really give him much as you still hadn't initiated any surveillance. You simply couldn't bring yourself to do it. But you had to swallow your feelings. Do what you were sent to do. And you would, you just needed time.

☽ ♞ ☾

[autumnslance]

Fic Writer Interview

Tagged by @sheepwithspecs technically on my main but this is where fanfic goes. Do this if you wanna!

How many works do you have on AO3?

47 as of 2/6/24. There's a few things I need to get around to adding there though.

What’s your total AO3 word count?

411,290 as of 2/6/24

What are your top 5 fics by kudos

Downtime (compilation of younger Scions & other teen chars being pals in Norvrandt) Unexpected (compilation of shippy nonsense) A Constant Distant Thunder (Thancred in ARR patches post-Lahabrea) Ruminations (General Warrior of Light introspections & adventures) Rogue's Prelude (My headcanons on Thancred meeting Louisoix, Papalymo, and Yda)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I usually do! I often try to. So my comment count is almost, not quite though, doubled.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Hrm; I tend to do a lot of bittersweet endings. We'll keep it simple and say "Never Gets Easier", a fic where Edmont and Charlemend talk about their lost sons. There's no sweetness there, just men haunted by mistakes and losses.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

Maybe "When Everything Changes" which is kid fic from the POV of my WoL's older brother when she's born and his ambivalence turns to big brother joy and love.

Do you write crossovers?

Haven't yet.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not that I recall.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Occasionally. Usually pretty vanilla. It's all right, I guess.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Had an OC's backstory on our WoW RP server's fic blogging site lifted wholesale; they changed the names and class, and then…walked into our weekly guild meeting that I was leading and tried to join our guild. When confronted, the person claimed their partner had leveled the character for them and based the backstory on Skyrim (my OC's story is very specific to WoW). They tried to message me later as if we were pals who would laugh this off someday. I informed them that was not a thing and btw the site mods knew they were a plagiarist now. Also everyone knew who their alts were and a bunch of other trouble they'd caused. So far as I know, they bailed from our server after that.

I hoped they learned better and grew up quite a bit; this was well over a decade ago.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Once or twice now; so long as folks credit and link back to my originals, and share the translated link with me, it's all good!

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Roleplay and actual story collaboration both. It's a lot of fun.

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

How dare you.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

*stares at WIP folder*

Come back with a warrant.

(I won't say never, but there's a lot that probably are just noodling and scraps to feed something else later)

What are your writing strengths?

Folks seem to like my dialogue.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Impatience, and certain grammatical abuses that do nothing for length nor clarity.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Depends on the fic. Depends on the intended audience.

For dialects, mostly the concern is "don't overdo it" as it can slow things down, be really jarring at best and offensive at worst, and difficult to understand if laying it on too thick.

Other languages entirely have different guidelines though, from sprinkling in single words or short phrases, to entire passages, and whether or not you translate or leave it up to the reader. Depends on fandom, on the characters, on the story, author intentions.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Narnia, in a my little girl diary as a pre-teen. I wanted to pick up Susan's story as a grown up and bring her and family back to a magical land. Cuz I knew it could, would happen someday, even if Lewis never got to write it himself.

What’s a fandom/ship you haven��t written for yet but want to?

Final Fantasy XVI. Midst. The latter is tricky as I really don't have ideas at the moment, but really want to dig into that vibe. My writing needs to be more weird in general, really.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

How dare you, come back with a warrant!