#mens personal item travel bag

[rustictowndufflebag]

The Ultimate Guide to Choosing the Perfect Duffle Bag

When it comes to travel and daily life, having the right gear can make all the difference. One essential piece of equipment that many people overlook is the duffle bag. Whether you're planning a weekend getaway, hitting the gym, or need a versatile bag for everyday use, a duffle bag is a must-have. In this comprehensive guide, we will walk you through everything you need to know about duffle bags, from choosing the right size and material to the best brands available. Let's dive in and discover the world of duffle bags!

Why Duffle Bags?

Versatility and Convenience

Duffle bags are renowned for their versatility and convenience. Unlike traditional suitcases, they are soft-sided and can easily adapt to various storage spaces. This makes them perfect for stowing in overhead compartments on airplanes or squeezing into the trunk of your car. Additionally, duffle bags often come with both hand straps and shoulder straps, providing you with multiple carrying options.

Spaciousness

One of the most significant advantages of duffle bags is their spaciousness. These bags are designed to maximize interior volume, allowing you to pack a significant amount of clothing and essentials. Whether you're going on a weekend trip or need a bag for your sports gear, a duffle bag can accommodate your belongings comfortably.

Durability

Durability is a crucial factor when selecting a duffle bag. After all, you want your bag to withstand the rigors of travel and daily use. Duffle bags are typically constructed from robust materials like nylon, canvas, or leather, ensuring they can handle wear and tear. Some even come with reinforced stitching and water-resistant coatings for added protection.

Choosing the Right Size

Small Duffle Bags

Small duffle bags are perfect for short trips or as gym bags. They offer enough space for a change of clothes, toiletries, and a few personal items. These compact bags are easy to carry and ideal for those who prefer to travel light.

Medium Duffle Bags

Medium-sized duffle bags strike a balance between portability and capacity. They are suitable for weekend getaways or when you need to pack more than just the essentials. You can typically fit enough clothing and accessories for a few days in these bags.

Large Duffle Bags

If you're embarking on an extended trip or need to carry a substantial amount of gear, large duffle bags are the way to go. They provide ample space for clothing, shoes, and other essentials. Large duffle bags are also a popular choice for athletes hauling sports equipment.

Material Matters

Nylon Duffle Bags

Nylon duffle bags are lightweight and highly resistant to abrasion and tearing. They are an excellent choice for those who prioritize durability and want a bag that can handle rough handling during travel.

Canvas Duffle Bags

Canvas duffle bags have a classic look and are known for their sturdiness. They can withstand heavy use and still look stylish. Many people prefer canvas for its timeless appeal and reliability.

Leather Duffle Bags

For a touch of luxury, leather duffle bags are the way to go. They exude sophistication and elegance while offering durability. Leather bags often age beautifully, developing a unique patina over time.

Top Duffle Bag Brands

1. Nike

Nike is a renowned name in the sports and fitness industry, and their duffle bags reflect their commitment to quality. With various sizes and styles available, Nike duffle bags cater to athletes and travelers alike.

2. The North Face

The North Face is synonymous with outdoor adventure, and their duffle bags are no exception. Known for their ruggedness and functionality, The North Face duffle bags are perfect for outdoor enthusiasts.

3. Herschel Supply Co.

Herschel Supply Co. is a brand known for its stylish and functional bags. Their duffle bags combine modern design with practical features, making them suitable for both travel and daily use.

Packing Tips

When using a duffle bag, it's essential to pack efficiently to maximize space and minimize wrinkles. Here are some tips to help you make the most of your duffle bag:

Roll Your Clothes: Rolling your clothes instead of folding them can save space and reduce wrinkles.

Use Packing Cubes: Packing cubes help keep your belongings organized and make it easier to find items in your duffle bag.

Place Heavy Items at the Bottom: To prevent your bag from becoming top-heavy, place heavier items at the bottom.

Utilize Pockets and Compartments: Take advantage of any internal and external pockets your duffle bag may have for smaller items and accessories.

Conclusion

In conclusion, a Rustic town duffle bag is an indispensable travel companion and a versatile addition to your everyday life. Choosing the right size and material is crucial to ensure your duffle bag meets your specific needs. Remember to consider factors like durability, style, and brand reputation when making your selection.

If you're looking for the perfect duffle bag to suit your lifestyle, explore the offerings from top brands like Nike, The North Face, and Herschel Supply Co. By following our packing tips, you can make the most of your duffle bag's spacious interior.

Investing in a high-quality duffle bag will not only make your travels more convenient but also add a touch of style to your adventures. So, whether you're jet-setting across the globe or heading to the gym, make sure you have the perfect duffle bag by your side.

[grandpeachpersona]

It's A Man's World

Chapter 2 (Show them what you got)

Flash-Forward after graduation 

I wake up to my alarm going off I groan and reach up and turn my alarm. Today is the day. Show them what you got. 

I sit up and stretch with the bright Ohio sun in my eyes I look at my phone it reads 7 am on the dot combine and starts at 11 am I’m up just in time to get a shower, breakfast, and maybe a slight workout. 

As the clock struck 9 a.m., I pulled up to the stadium, its imposing structure alive with the energy of anticipation. The driver, Kyle, a friendly face with a warm smile, opened the door for me. “Thank you,” I said, taking my gear bag from him, the weight of it both familiar and comforting. “No problem. Good luck!” he replied, his eyes sparkling with encouragement.

I nodded and returned the smile, feeling a mix of gratitude and excitement, before I turned to face the entrance. The morning air was crisp, and the atmosphere buzzed with activity as I walked toward security. “Hi, what’s your name?” one of the guards asked, his tone professional yet welcoming. “Hi, I’m Sierra Riley,” I answered confidently. Another guard, standing nearby, gestured for me to follow him through the security check. He nodded and said, “Welcome. Follow me.” I adhered to his instructions, the sound of camera flashes popping around me, but I tried to block them out and stayed focused on my path.

Growing up as an only child, I had always been introverted, preferring the company of books and the solace of my own thoughts to the spotlight. The roar of the crowd and the relentless gaze of cameras still made me uneasy.

The guard led me down a narrow hallway adorned with vibrant posters of past champions, their faces captured in moments of glory. He stopped in front of a door, opening it wide to reveal my private locker room. “Here we are. This is your private locker room for the next couple of days,” he said. I stepped inside, my eyes widening in disbelief at the plush surroundings. “Wow, all this for little ol' me?” I exclaimed, my voice filled with wonder. He chuckled softly, clearly amused at my amazement. “Enjoy,” he said before closing the door behind him.

You may be wondering why I have access to such a private space. The simple answer is: I’m a woman. This was a rare treat, especially considering the countless uncomfortable experiences I’d endured in men’s locker rooms—chaotic, often awkward environments that lacked privacy and comfort.

I placed my bag on the sleek wooden bench and began to unpack, the faint smell of fresh paint and polish inviting me in. As I scanned the locker room, my gaze fell on a hanging item in the closet area. Curiosity pulled me closer, and as I approached, my heart raced. There, proudly displayed, was a black and white jersey with my number, 32, emblazoned on the back alongside my last name. Tears of joy welled up in my eyes as I stared at the jersey, a symbol of my journey and hard work.

“Granny, we did it,” I whispered to the empty room, feeling her presence with me in that moment of triumph.

Suddenly I heard a knock at my door “Hi Sierra I’m Jake we spoke over the phone can I come in” the voice on the other side of the door said.

‘Yeah come on” I answer back making my way over to the bench and sit down.

The door swings open, and in strides Jake Thompson—he's even taller than I expected from TV. “Nice to finally meet you in person. I've heard nothing but great things about you,” he says, extending his hand. I shake it firmly and reply with a confident smile, “Good things, I hope?”

“Oh, absolutely! How was your travel?” he asks. I nod, responding with certainty, “No complaints at all.”

“Excellent! Welcome to the MLB Combine. Over the next four days, we’ll be evaluating your skills and abilities. On the last day, all participants will showcase their talents in a game, and from there we’ll decide if you’re eligible to be drafted,” he explains, his tone upbeat.

I absorb the information and nod. “Sounds fantastic,” I say with conviction. He nods back, adding, “You're the first woman we've had in the Combine, and you’re the only one here. Believe me, those guys out there won't hold back—they're all here for the same opportunity. You need to prove to them why you belong. Make your name heard.”

I nod with a confident grin. “Absolutely, sir!”

“Great! Now get changed; I want you on the field in 15 minutes. I’m eager to see your fielding skills,” he instructs as he steps out the door.

I exhale a breath I didn’t even know I was holding. Alright, time to gear up and show them what I’ve got.

As walk out from the dugout I heard the little whispers or gasps in shock as I walked out onto the field Great American Ball Park home to the Cincinnati Reds. Fresh pair of Nike cleats on my feet, sports shades on my eyes, and glove on my left hand right hand ready to throw. 

As I walk out onto the field I see a lot of familiar faces and new faces. 

“Riley!” 

I heard my name shouted I looked over to see who it was I jogged over to home plate and saw it was Jake. “Alright, where going to see how you are in shortstop going to run a couple of drills and go from there” I nod my head and jog out to my position on the field. 

“Veen! Where going to work on hitting position your going to hit to Short and run the play out” Jake told the Rookie who approached home plate who nodded his head then looked at me and his eyes widened slightly. 

I give a slight tip of my baseball cap, which has the MLB logo centered on it. He nods his head back as he prepares to bat. A pitcher steps out from the other dugout and takes his place on the mound. I glance to my left and spot the first baseman.

Lock in time.

The pitcher winds up and throws a fastball.

Veen hits the ball hard toward me. I quickly sprint to it, scoop it up in my glove, and throw it to first base before Veen even gets close to touching it.

I look at the first baseman, who looks like he just saw a ghost. “Damn, you need a pad in that glove, Smith,” Jake calls from the dugout stairs. “Nah, I’m good,” Smith replies with a chuckle.

I shrug my shoulders and lift my hands. “Homeboy was fast; I had to turn up the heat a bit.”

Smith just shakes his head with a smile and throws the ball back to the pitcher.

Yeah, these next few days are going to be fun.

Over the next couple of days, I continued to show my skills by hitting balls more than 400ft, my base running and how I'm able to steal them, fielding, and how I'm able the dive for a ground ball and make double plays. Overall, it's been fun. But now here we are at game day.

With fans plus it's going to be on the MLB network. But not only that all the big people in the head offices are going to be here too. To say my nerves are at an all-time high is an understatement.

But luckily my Best friend Mia is going to be there which eases my nerves a little even though we haven't seen each other in a couple of years since she moved down here for an internship opportunity. Home girl getting her coin and I respect that. 

As I walk into the stadium once again I hear the camera flashes but I'm to but I'm to locked to Beyoncé’s DIVA blasting in my headphones notice. 

I walk into my locker room and see a gift box sitting on the bench. I put my gym bag in my locker and I really get a good look a the box. 

Weird I slowly reached over and opened the box and saw a Nike box inside with a note on top of it.

“So, you thought you could come to town without giving me a heads-up?" I rolled my eyes, already recognizing the playful tone in the note. It was classic Ja’marr. "I thought we were closer than that, but that’s cool. I see how it is." I could almost picture him smirking as I read his words. "But it's fine. I'll accept your apology in the form of a win with those cleats I bought you and a round of drinks when you get drafted." Typical Ja’marr, always finding a way to tease me.

“But for real, sis, I’m proud of you. Go out there and kill it! Show them that they don’t stand a chance against you. I'll be watching, and so will the rest of the Bengals.” I could feel the love and encouragement in his message, even through the banter.

“What?!” I exclaimed, my voice rising in disbelief. My heart raced at the thought of so many eyes on me.

“Good luck! Remember, no pressure.” 

Your big brother, Ja’marr.

Well, thanks a lot, bro. Yeah, no pressure at all. As if I didn't have enough on my plate, now I had an entire NFL team tuning in to see how I perform. 

Help.

Me.

God.

I reached into the box and grasped the sleek Nike shoe box, pulling the top off with curiosity and excitement. “Ha!” I laughed incredulously. This dude knows how to make an impression.

The left cleat was designed with vibrant LSU colors, a tribute to my college and all the hard work I’d put in there. The right cleat, however, was emblazoned in striking Bengals colors, a nod to his NFL team. I couldn’t help but smile; it was a perfect mix of my identity and the new journey I was about to embark on. When I finally see him, it's going to be on and popping.

Game. Time.

They just finished introductions for the red team, and now it’s time to shine the spotlight on us, the blue team. The atmosphere is electric, filled with the excited chatter of fans and the smell of fresh grass.

“And now, for the blue team, hitting first in the lineup, we have the third baseman, number 17, Matthew Veen!” The announcer’s voice booms through the stadium, and I can feel the energy ripple through the crowd.

“Hitting second in the lineup, the right fielder, number 22, Alex Jefferson!” The cheers grow louder as Alex jogs out, ready to make an impact.

“Hitting third in the lineup, the second baseman, number 18, Matt Chambers!” Matt flashes a confident smile and gives a wave to the crowd, clearly relishing the moment.

“Hitting fourth in today’s lineup, the shortstop, number 32, Sierra Riley!” My heart races as I step forward, hearing both cheers and a few boos from the stands. I confidently jog onto the field, my mind focused, determined to block out any negativity and embrace support.

As I approach my teammates, who are lined up along the right foul line, I can see their eager expressions. I give each one a high-five, feeling the camaraderie and excitement building. “Let’s go, baby!” I shout, ready to give it my all in the game ahead. The sound of the crowd swells around us, fueling my adrenaline as we prepare to take the field.

Suddenly I hear LSU chants and look behind me to see my old softball teammates, my old skip Jim Smith, and my best friend Mia. I wave over to where they're sitting and turn my focus back to the rest of the lineup. 

Reiterating the words in my head Show them what you got.

After the national anthem and pregame interviews. It's time to take the field. 

1st inning wasn't a bad one quick one everyone went on 3 pitches or a Flyout. 

2nd inning 4,5,6 were due up. Which means I lead off. 

I grab my bat, feeling its familiar weight in my hands, and step out onto the field as the powerful notes of James Brown's "It's a Man's World" resonate through the speakers, filling the air with energy and anticipation.

“It’s a man’s world, but it would be nothing without a woman or a girl.”

You’re damn straight, James. I can feel the strength in those words as I take my position.

I adjust my stance in the batter's box, ensuring my feet are planted firmly and that I'm not leaning too far forward or backward. As the final notes of the song fade away, I lock eyes with the pitcher. He’s got a determined look on his face, and in that moment, I can sense the intensity of the competition. I hold his gaze, letting him know I'm ready.

He nods to the catcher, signaling the forthcoming pitch, and raises his arm, winding up with deliberate precision. The anticipation in the crowd builds as he releases the ball.

I track its trajectory and realize it’s headed straight down the middle of the plate. Without hesitation, I swing my bat with all my might. There’s an exhilarating moment of contact as the crack of the bat echoes around the stadium, followed by a collective gasp and oohs of excitement from the crowd. 

When I finally open my eyes, I see the ball soaring high into the sky, arcing beautifully toward the outfield. The cheers of the crowd swell as I watch it sail over the fence, secure in its path toward the stands. 

Home run.

I toss my bat aside in triumph and begin my exhilarating journey around the bases, soaking in the electric atmosphere as my home run song, "Pressure" by Ari Lennox, bursts back to life through the speakers, amplifying the thrill of the moment.

The first pitch was a fastball right down the heart of the plate—perfectly placed. The scoreboard lights up: Score 1-0. With adrenaline coursing through my veins, I can't help but think, oh, this is going to be fun…

Chapter 3..My House

A/N: I just realized that in the first chapter, I said 2020 MLB Combine I meant to say 2021 MLB Combine 🤦🏿‍♀️ I was half asleep when I wrote that chapter so please forgive me and my sleepy writing.

[cacti-are-like-flamingos]

Enter Sandman

Gojo Satoru x Reader x Geto Suguru

The Cursed Trio | Lover is a Day

**poor Gojo. what did he do to deserve this hehe

**so sorry for the tardiness, I had a hyperfixation on CoD men and physically couldn't continue until it went away 💀

...

Gojo couldn't pinpoint exactly when he sensed the change, but it was undeniably there. It wasn't a glaring transformation; instead, it manifested subtly through the way you and Suguru interacted. He had always recognized that the two of you were cut from the same cloth, born of the same feather - you could use any analogy, but the essence remained the same.

Even without the benefit of his Six Eyes, Gojo couldn't overlook how close you and Suguru had become. Initially, he didn't mind it, or at least he convinced himself as much. He attempted to brush off the feeling as best as he could, but he couldn't help but notice how you slightly tensed under his touch yet effortlessly melted into Suguru's warmth. He observed it in the way Suguru openly expressed his emotions to you, and how you reciprocated, all while Gojo remained in the dark.

The ironic part is, he couldn't harbor resentment over it. Especially not when both of you made sincere efforts to include him in every aspect.

Whenever you ventured around with Kento and Haibara, you'd return with an assortment of captivating trinkets, gifting them all to Gojo. Each one somehow reminding you of him. Your manner of bestowing these gifts had a certain nonchalance to it, as if the act was more of a hassle. Yet, Gojo could easily discern the genuine satisfaction that flickered in your eyes each time he accepted your offerings with a smile.

(Side Note: His room, once relatively bare within the mansion, had now transformed into an overabundance of these seemingly insignificant items you had collected during your travels. Few were privy to this fact, but he had explicitly instructed the servants not to disturb these items, opting to personally tend to their cleaning whenever the dust settled. However, based on how frequently he handled them, barely a speck of dust managed to find its way onto them.)

Each morning, on his way to Jujutsu High, Suguru would purchase konbini delicacies for Gojo. The bag would be packed with an assortment of ready-to-eat foods, including an egg salad sandwich, three garlic and mayonnaise-laden pork sausage onigiris, a variety of puddings, and a couple of those sparkling water drinks that Gojo was obsessed with.

(Side Note: Suguru, naturally, would purchase some food for you as well. However, just to ruffle your feathers, he'd opt for items you'd never laid your taste buds on before. Since your arrival in Japan, you'd ventured into trying a variety of new cuisines and managed to identify some go-to favorites that you indulged in regularly. Yet, this man had a peculiar penchant for introducing you to peculiar flavors that either awakened your palate or left you traumatized by their taste.)

(Add-On: Not to imply he didn't also buy your beloved comfort foods. Those were discreetly stashed away in his backpack. Given how often he pulled this trick, you usually had to wrestle his backpack off his shoulders just to access your treats. And then, Gojo would swoop in and grab them before you, playfully holding them above your head, taunting and teasing you.)

Either way, Gojo couldn't shake the feeling that something transpired between you and Suguru last week. The exact timing eluded him, but what he does know is that both of you were absent from school for two consecutive days before eventually resurfacing. There were no messages in either group chat, no responses to Gojo's texts—just an absolute wall of silence.

When the duo finally returned, it was almost as if nothing had occurred. They deftly evaded every inquiry with well-practiced nonchalance, much to Gojo's exasperation. And then came the shift in Suguru's and his behavior towards you. Well, if being honest, it wasn't entirely novel. Suguru had always displayed a protective streak when it came to you. Think back to the time Gojo accidentally hurt you during a footsie game beneath the table. If looks could kill, Gojo would've been six feet under by now.

Nevertheless, his protective instincts towards you had become subtly more pronounced. He hovered closely, always a step behind, though it might be attributed to your joint missions together. It appeared the higher-ups had taken pity on you, transitioning you from solo missions to partnered ones.

Throughout the week, the two of you had been dispatched on various missions. Occasionally, when Gojo completed his assignments early (he had been partnered with Kento, and their compatibility was less than stellar; Haibara had been granted a day off due to a mild illness), he would swing by to check in on you and Suguru. And he had to confess, watching the two of you collaborate to vanquish curses was truly a remarkable sight.

So, with your cursed chains, you've got this knack for putting curses in a tight spot, just enough time for Suguru to work his magic and send them packing. But, you know, you two aren't into keeping things simple. Nope, you like to go all out and make curses' lives a little more interesting.

Picture this: you set up traps that are like a spider's web, and the curses are the unlucky bugs that end up stuck right in the middle. The real brilliance? Suguru's the maestro who guides these curses right into your web of chains. It's like teamwork made in heaven.

What Suguru truly values about working with you is your unique ability to alter the core of curses. Your chains aren't limited to subduing; they possess the exceptional capability to absorb and transform. Through this absorption, you wield the power to modify various aspects of curses, turning their own energy against them and granting Suguru an edge in his exorcism efforts

When Suguru takes in curses, he's devouring the darkest fragments of humanity. So, when you saw him extend his hand toward a writhing mass of malevolence, you couldn't help but offer to share the load.

He hesitated, his doubt hanging in the air like a fading whisper. It was almost as if he feared believing in your words, as if hope itself was a fragile thing. Yet, in that unspoken trust you both held, he conceded. So he stood there, silently watching your graceful dance of spiritual chains, invisible to all but the likes of Gojo.

When it was time, you handed it back to him, and he consumed it, slowly, cautiously. It was like witnessing a smile returning to his eyes, a spark reigniting in the depths of his being. The taste was...nothingness. And the pain, the relentless ache he usually carried, dissipated dramatically.

You'll forever hold onto that memory, of his dark green aura lightening, his eyes turning toward you with a glimmer of hope and something deeper, something you dared not name.

Nevertheless, the shift in dynamics among the three of you left Gojo with a bittersweet taste, like the remnants of a fading dream.

He had nurtured a hope, delicate as the petals of a cherry blossom, that the fortress guarding your heart had begun to crumble, revealing the vulnerability he had longed to see mirrored in your eyes.

Yet, like elusive stardust slipping through his fingers, something veiled him from fully breaching the walls surrounding your soul. He wondered in the quiet hours of the night if it was an oversight, a missed note in the melody of your intricate life story.

Memories of that September night hung in the air, suspended like the phases of the moon, each one a query without a response. How had you ventured into the labyrinthine embrace of the Jujutsu world?

It was Ieiri who found herself in the unusual role of comforter—or at least, her unique brand of comfort. If you could even call it that. She had a knack for subtly peppering him with teasing and sly remarks, cleverly diverting his attention from the shift in dynamics. It was her way of dealing with the situation, her way of saying, "I've got your back, even if it means poking fun at you."

Amidst this unspoken tension, their gazes occasionally flicked to catch the fleeting frowns that played on Gojo's lips whenever he observed the interactions between you and Suguru. It was as though they were all tiptoeing around the elephant in the room, leaving Ieiri as the bold soul who chose humor as her weapon of choice in navigating the uncharted waters of this evolving relationship.

(Side Note: Although Kento wasn't particularly fond of Gojo and his often infuriating antics, he couldn't stand to see his...well, let's just call him a "companion," frown. So, from time to time, when Kento was aware that Gojo was in the vicinity, he'd pick up something sweet. He knew Gojo had a soft spot for these treats, so he'd casually toss one in Gojo's direction. Most of the time, it would collide with Gojo's Infinite Void, but occasionally, on those rare moments, the confections would find their way to the back of his head.)

Ieiri had never been one for beating around the bush. So, when the two of you found yourselves once more beneath the weathered embrace of the wooden bridge on campus, stars winking overhead and smoke spiraling around you, she confronted you. Her approach was careful and cautious, an acknowledgment of the gravity that hung in the air.

"Something happened with Suguru, didn't it?" Ieiri inquired, her gaze fixed on the water trickling through her black socks. The nonchalant action struck a dissonant chord within you.

You squinted your eyes, considering briefly the path of feigned ignorance. However, the weight of truth beckoned, and you decided that the burden of falsehood was far too heavy.

With a casual shrug, you admitted, "You could say that."

As she exhaled another plume of smoke, the brunette posed another question, shrouded in the gentle cloak of uncertainty, "And what about me?"

At this, you hesitated, the lines of your brow etched with genuine perplexity.

"I don't follow."

In response to your words, the young teen let out an irritated click of her tongue, a spark of fading fire in her golden-brown eyes. She frowned at her own reflection rippling in the water.

"Of course, you don't."

For a time, the quietude settled between you, punctuated only by the celestial dance of stars above. From your vantage point, nestled beneath the bridge's embrace, you had a perfect view of their shimmering freedom, despite the barrier before you.

They twinkled with a grace foreign to your own world.

"Gojo's sulking."

"I know."

"So, you're ignoring it?"

"...Yeah."

"You're unbelievable, you know that?"

"So, you keep telling me."

Another stretch of silence enveloped you both before you posed a question of your own.

"How exactly... did you find out about the deal?"

Ieiri reached for another stick from the box, drawing closer to you, seeking your assistance in lighting it.

"Overheard it from the Zenin's when Yaga took me over for something."

What?

The atmosphere thickened with tension, a sensation that didn't sit well with the young Shoko. Shifting uncomfortably where she sat, her brunette locks framing her face, she observed you through the rippling reflection in the water.

"Why were you near the Zenin household?" The chill in your voice unsettled her, but she could discern the restraint in your tone, an effort to temper the sharpness.

She offered a nonchalant shrug, attempting to downplay the unease that had settled over the conversation.

"They asked if I could help with a cursed technique gone awry. They didn't divulge many details."

Here we go, mind your words. Ieiri thought.

"What specifically, though?" Ieiri had always placed her trust in you, even after uncovering the layers of your past. Yet, in moments like these, your intensity still sent shivers down her spine, a blend of composure and wrath.

"I...don't know. It's hard to put into words. I mean, I never really saw it clearly — I think it was a person, though. But...it's all so confusing."

In that very moment, it was as if the harmonious symphony of nature — the crickets, the birds, even the whispering wind — had been swallowed by an eerie silence. Even the water, for the briefest of moments, seemed to take on a murky, uncertain hue.

"How come?" Your voice came slowly.

She clicked her tongue, eyes squinting at the ripples, "I swear... it was half-human, half-curse."

Ieiri's revelation hung in the air, a half-human, half-curse entity — a concept so enigmatic it seemed to defy the laws of their world. She had ventured into uncharted territory, and you couldn't resist exhaling a relieved sigh much to her surprise.

"And here, I thought you were going to say something else. Not gonna lie, feels like you're being a bit paranoid, no?"

Perhaps it was the way you suddenly regained your composure that cast doubt upon her words. Your eyes returned to their usual nonchalant demeanor, accompanied by that ever-charming lazy smile she adored so much.

Taking the cigarette from Ieiri's mouth, to her surprise, you allowed the burning end to dance playfully between your fingers, leaving them adorned with soot and a hint of injury.

"I don't think that's possible, Ieiri," you chimed in a sing-song manner. "Though, I must admit, it would be quite the intriguing twist if it were true — as fucked up as that may sound."

It was Ieiri who had to intervene, flicking the burning stick from your fingers, unwilling to witness further harm.

A soft chuckle escaped your lips at her gesture, and your hand reached out for hers. Her skin was smooth, unmarred, in stark contrast to your own. With your thumb, you traced gentle circles upon the back of her hand.

Ieiri found herself almost melting under your touch. It was a rarity, your tactile contact. You allowed a few into your personal sphere — Nanami, Suguru, and Satoru — but even then, physical closeness was a privilege extended sparingly. Ieiri nodded, finding solace in your warmth.

She unveils the box, and with your assistance, a slender stick finds its way into your fingers. You delicately place it upon Ieiri's awaiting lips, a small smile gracing your features as you ignite the tip. Your eyes remain locked onto her warm, brown gaze.

An addiction.

She leans into you, her head resting gently upon your shoulder. Together, you both peer down at the tranquil stream below, while your gaze finds solace in the expanse of the night sky above.

Kindred spirits.

The closest of confidants.

For she is your dearest friend, and you are hers, right?

Right?

Still, a question lingered in the recesses of her thoughts.

Despite the burning desire to give voice to her question, she'd rather keep the peace.

Perhaps, in that moment, it was her silent acquiescence that marked her eventual undoing.

...

(A/N): Nothing in the Jujutsu world is healthy, so don't expect healthy relationships and friendships. Toxicity all the way 😁

Nah, as soon as I saw Idalia heading up to Florida I said nope. Canceled everything. Luckily, I got my concert tickets fully refunded so now I'm a few dollars richer than before. However, for all of my Florida fans, hope you're safe!

Is Ieiri in love with you? That's a good question that I'm willing to explore. (I was in a mood lol)

This is the beginnings of Suguru's and your's unhealthy co-dependency. And I'm not sorry whatsoever.

What Gojo didn't quite grasp was that it wasn't a matter of trust. Instead, it was a deep-seated, almost inexplicable shame that held him back from touching the very edges of your soul.

Your eyes often gravitate towards the night sky, quietly marveling at the stars' freedom, your expression almost content but tinged with a hint of bitterness. It's a testament to your ability to conceal your true feelings.

Conversely, Ieiri's gaze tends to be drawn downward, fixating on the flowing waters below with a solemn demeanor. Witnessing the relentless flow of time as each ripple becomes a reminder of moments slipping away. It's the cruel paradox of her life, forever tied to the present while yearning for the elusive permanence of the past.

The irony lies in their contrasting perspectives, for while you yearn for the freedom of the stars, you remain tethered to your earthly burdens. And Ieiri, who gazes into the depths of time, is paradoxically trapped in the present, unable to escape the relentless flow of existence.

Irony: The act of looking up at the sky has always been viewed as a hopeful action.

Irony: Sitting by a river, holding hands, is an intimate act. Almost romantic. (This is one-sided.)

Some people use pain as a way to ground themselves back in reality. Such as snapping a plastic band on their wrist, pinching themselves, and what-not. But burning yourself is a dangerous and unhealthy method. I only use this is to show your more unhinged side.

The only reason 'Satoru' is used in this episode is because it was written in Ieiri's POV. You have yet to say it yourself.

You are not against gaslighting your friends in order to get what you want. You're not a good person just as you aren't a bad person. You're just a slave to circumstance.

You also know that Ieiri is a fan of physical touch so you use it against her. Confusing her with incredibly intimate actions to distract her.

Just as I was finishing this up, I realized I hadn't turned in an essay that was due the 30th and everyday it's not submitted is 20 points less. Please manifest with me 🥹

Guilt, imprisonment, and something else are your current running theme.

Originally:

I had absolutely no idea what did episode was going to be about.

Initially, this episode was intended to bear the title 'Cirice.' The plan was for it to be chock-full of lore, unveiling some significant, long-held secrets. However, during a call with my bestie, I experienced a breakthrough and made a radical decision to overhaul it entirely. Some of you might have witnessed the chaos I caused with the TCT Masterlist and the TCT Timeline - that was actually me attempting to find the most suitable pacing for everything.

Initially, Suguru was meant to dodge your attempts to retrieve your snacks and dangle them above your head. However, I wanted to incorporate a more trio-based interaction into this scenario.

Ieiri was initially meant for a brief appearance, but fate had other plans.

"...his eyes turning toward you with a glimmer of hope and something deeper, something you dared not name..." The emotion you dared not name is adoration.

"...left Gojo with a bittersweet taste, like the remnants of a fading dream." Is a direct reference to Gojo waking up from his dream. His dream is the Hidden Inventory Arc.

"And what about me?" This is Ieiri's way of asking you if you've not is how your actions impact her personally. When you respond, "I don't follow." You are lying. You do know, you're just ignoring it.

"An addiction..." This line concealed not just her nicotine craving but also her yearning for your undivided attention.

"For she is your dearest friend, and you are hers, right?" It is a direct reference to how Suguru and Gojo are Ieiri's best friends yet she isn't their's.

"...Despite the burning desire to give voice to her question, she'd rather keep the peace..." I'm a firm believer that had Ieiri taken a bit of initiative in creating a more intimate connection with the boys, they might've considered her a best friend. At the very least, a close one.

"...Perhaps, in that moment, it was her silent acquiescence that marked her eventual undoing..." Foreshadowing.

Cursed technique gone wrong? Half-human, half-curse? The fuck?

Also, how the fuck do you know the ZENIN CLAN? Like yeah, you play the game but even then, what exactly is this so-called game?

The question you should be asking yourself, as a reader, is simple --- on which side are you? Are you on the winning side with Gojo and Ieiri? Or are you on the losing side with Suguru, Haibara, and Kento?

And what did you mean by 'Deal'? It's like the second or third time we hear this.

Oh, Halloween's coming!

Drop a comment!

Feel free to donate me a 🦩

Hope you enjoyed!

[icarusredwings]

Remember. It's not illegal to be Trans.......YET.

Trans youth are one of the most subject homelessness around this time of year, including trans veterans who were abandoned by their country after serving.

Talk to your local politicians.

Sign petitions.

Spread cited and scientifically correct information only from trusted sources.

If you have extra food give it to those in need instead of the garbage.

Invite a trusted SAFE unhoused person to sleep in your garage or couch these holidays.

Please do not out any of your friends, family or even strangers without their permission.

If you have a trans family member or friend please check up on their mental health.

Please protect our past, present, and future trans youth.

"To protect the kids" Please remember that ebery trans person was once a kid themselves.

Do not be shocked if your trans family members/ friends suddenly don't want to speak to you anymore if you vote to harm them.

These are scary and unknown times for us all, be kind, be careful, you are loved.

Donate to your local homeless shelter!!!

Here's a quick list of things to donate to those in need esspecially if they are unhoused for the winter:

Non perishables

Can opener

New and gently used men and women’s clothing

Brand new in package underwear, bras and socks

Blankets

Sleeping bags

Tents

Backpacks, drawstring bags and reusable grocery bags

Travel bags and luggage

Bikes, bike locks and brand new helmets

Winter coats

Waterproof gloves, scarves and brand new winter hats

Brand new hygiene items

New hairbrushes, hair ties and combs

Feminine hygiene products

Flashlights

Umbrellas and rain ponchos

Sunscreen and bug spray

Reusable water bottles

Things to donate to your local animal shelter because they're homeless and in need, too (as someone whos worked rescue for a decade)

Canned or soft dog or cat food

Hard bag of dog or cat food (reminder that some places won't take open bags, give it away on facebook or to a friend, DO NOT trash it unless you have too)

Larger bath towels and beach towels are great. Please no face cloths or hand towels. (Dogs eat/ shred them)

Large blankets & unstuffed bedding.

Large crates, collars, leashes, or any other dog/cat related items in good useable condition.

Pet medication that you no longer need (not expired)

ASK!!! Ask your local shelter what they need!!!

We love durable toys like kongs and nylabones, as well as medium/large interactive toys, it makes the dogs stays in the chain link cells much more enjoyable :)

If you're feeling fancy? FOSTER! A home for a week is better then nothing.

[breekento]

Have you ever gone into possible hobbies that Nanami has vs Higuruma? I'm disappointed we never got to see his likes and hobbies 😭😭😭

Welcome back to another HiguNana analysis by Bree!

Unfortunately we don’t ever get to know very much about the personal interests and hobbies of Higuruma and Nanami throughout the show. They already have very little screen time and what we do see is usually pertaining only to the world of sorcery. But something that Higuruma and Nanami nation have decided is that both of these hunky men are wealthy and wealthy men have hobbies.

Like usual, these are my personal head-cannons please don’t be mad at me.

Hobbies that HiguNana have in common:

They are men of style and class, both wearing luxury suits and splurging on nice cars and watches. They adore shopping with you. They’ve worked hard in their careers to be able to afford their lifestyle and they both have the love language of gift giving. Those two things combined equals shopping trips for the two of you. They love dressing you up, watching you spin around for them. They can put their money where their mouth is. When you can’t decide which dress to buy for their work party, they say, “Just get both, darling. You can use one for a date night and one for the party.”

In a similar vein, they love traveling. And they love bringing you along. Even if it’s just a weekend getaway somewhere you’ve never been, they will book a last-minute trip and pack your bags for you. They already know your essentials and favorite outfits so you can expect your bag to be packed as soon as you get home.

Nanami’s hobbies:

Starting off with the most obvious, something we do know about Nanami is his love for reading. Before his death, he mentioned all of the books he never got around to reading. I like to think he has a home library and a wide range of taste in books from historical non-fiction to fiction fantasy books. In the mornings, he brews a cup of black coffee and sits outside, reading whatever current novel he is on before getting dressed and ready for work.

Something that we don’t have any clues for but is something that I can see fitting his character very well is a love for baking and cooking. He seems like the type of man to insist on cooking for holidays like Valentine’s Day, Christmas, and Thanksgiving. His love for pastries only signifies that he at some point has dabble in baking. Plus, he would look just adorable in an apron.

Maybe this is just me self-inserting myself but as an avid plant mother Nanami has the type of personality to be a loving plant father. He’s patient and gentle and would take the utmost care of a garden or home jungle. He could use his own fresh vegetables in his cooking!

Now, this might tie in to the shopping hobby but we all know Nanami is a man of funky ties. I could see him collecting fun ties. Shopping for other items and coming across a new pattern he has never seen before, he can’t help himself. He has a drawer only for his ties and picks them out for every occasion.

Nanami is a white collar man and who do all white collar man love? Golf. Nanami is a man of golf. It only makes sense that he would have a section of his closet dedicated to his golf attire. Many times, business deals and business meetings are done over a game of golf.

Higuruma’s hobbies:

Higuruma was much more difficult to identify some hobbies but after some deliberation, I think I’ve found a handful that I would coin. Maybe I will even write them into future Higuruma fanfics.

The first one would be poker. You can’t tell me you can’t imagine Higuruma, cigarette in mouth and whiskey on the table playing poker with a group of other lawyers in his firm. After a long and stressful day of being professional, they undo their ties and relax over a game of poker. They have enough money to make the stakes higher by adding bets and money on the line.

To me, Higuruma strikes me as a music type of guy. More specifically, old music. He has a collection of vinyls that he will pull out and show guests and more importantly, you. Weekend mornings, he heads down to the local record store and thumbs through the new albums they have in stock. He has a well up-kept vintage record player, only the finest machine to play his collection.

I honestly can’t remember if it was ever made evident in the manga that Higuruma smoked or if we all just collectively gave him that head cannon but Higuruma is a smoker. Not only a smoker but he collects cigars. Rarely does he smoke his fine cigars, only pulling them out for special occasions such as weddings or other important events.

Similarly, Higuruma is a bar hopper. Not in the same sense as a twenty-something college kid but as an established lawyer with a wealth behind him. He finds new and fun bars with good live music to sit and have a few drinks at. His favorite thing is bringing you along. He gets to hear about your day, listen to the smooth local band behind you and have a nice drink. It’s an excuse to see you dressed up in your shopping spree outfit.

[unmotivatedwrit3r]

One in Eleven Million

damian wayne x reader x jon kent  - ch.1

(A/N): The plot of this is mostly based off of a trip I took a little over a year ago, though there are liberties taken further on. And my memory is kinda sucky so take any airport lingo with a grain of salt. Also, thanks to @glorified-red for helping me outline this while I was heading to the same place this year and also for being my beta reader. 

This is fully written and has been for two months so hopefully I'll post a chapter a week or so? I am also posting this from hawaii so here's hoping a) I get new fic material and b) i've converted the time zone correctly and this posts late EST. 

If you saw this posted yesterday, no you didn’t. Posting across time zones is hard

wc: ~2300

warnings: plane travel; anxiety

~

Your phone buzzed in your pocket as you stepped off the tram. Above your head, the sign read Terminal B in large letters. The people ahead as you stepped onto the escalator were a couple with matching, brightly colored, floral-patterned carry-ons. 

The notification was a text from the airline. You skimmed it as you walked towards your gate, weaving in and out of internal airport traffic. We're ready to board your flight to Gotham (GHM) at Gate B6 and look forward to seeing you soon! The text was right below the one telling you about yet another delay. A quick check of the time declared that making any detours would cut your arrival at the gate a little close. 

“Worth the risk,” you decided for yourself. “Let's go.” 

The escalator opened into the middle of your terminal, a dozen gates from your destination. Even though the airport you were in was spread out massively, you weren’t too worried. Your boarding group wouldn’t even get on the plane for probably another ten minutes, so you ducked into the nearest restroom before crossing to your gate. 

The time in red on your boarding pass caught your eye. 70 minutes late, it read. Any other day, a delay would have been an inconvenience. This time, the buffer actually ended up being beneficial. You needed it when trying to catch a connecting flight—the second of two on your way home—after one already delayed. Your eye caught on a pretzel stand further down the terminal. You could almost taste the pretzels; it had been a while since breakfast. The usual delicious smells were covered by the perpetual airport scent of stale air and commercial cleaner. If you wanted to get close, you’d have to cross the foot traffic. The voice over the loudspeaker curtailed that hope quickly by announcing your boarding group. You sighed. Next time. 

The boarding line was long and you silently thanked yourself for checking a larger suitcase as your primary luggage. Your only current accompaniment was your airline declared “personal item.” There was no way there would be spots for any hypothetical carry-on by the time you got on board. As if to agree with you, the airline employees over the speakers nudged passengers once again to check their carry-ons. 

Like always, it took longer than it rationally should have for people to display their boarding passes and continue into the enclosed boarding bridge. Your chest squeezed as your seat flashed on the screen. The only seat available and in your budget had been a “B”: a middle seat in the back of the plane. Middle seats were the worst, especially when traveling alone. Too often you’d found yourself next to men (and even women, sometimes) that made you extremely uncomfortable.

You scanned the numbers above the seats as the line in front of you blundered along. Someone’s carry-on bag almost smacked you in the face before the line cleared enough for you to be able to see your row. Your heart sank just a little bit when you spotted the two heads in the A and C seats. No hope for an empty seat on this flight, then. 

When you stepped closer, you could see two men—young adults and not older men, you realized, thank goodness—conversing with each other, both tilted into the middle seat. You hoped, privately, that they didn’t know each other well, if only so they wouldn’t be talking right through you the entire flight. 

“Excuse me,” you said, stopping in front of the row, “I have the middle seat.” 

The boys sat back. The one in the window seat had olive skin and dark wavy hair cropped close on the side, dripping down across his forehead and over his eyes. The other, with lighter skin and fluffy dark hair, stood to let you in. You had to take half a step back to let him out. He was tall. And pretty. Nope, Shut Up, brain. You pushed the thought into the back of your mind; he could be the most homophobic person you’ve ever met, how would you know? 

“Sorry about that, go ahead.” 

“Thanks.” You smiled at the boy before sliding clumsily into the row and landing heavily in the middle seat. You shoved your bag under the seat in front of you and sat up stiffly, shoulders pulled into yourself. The seatbelt dug uncomfortably into your thigh. Silently , you shifted, sliding on the smooth airplane seat, to free it. A few minutes passed in awkward silence as the rest of the passengers boarded. Your headphones were down in the bag you’d just squished under the seat. Was it really worth it to grab them now? Yes, you decided, leaning down to maneuver them out of your bag. The fluffy haired boy spoke across the seats. 

“Damian, I can’t get the app downloaded.” 

You sat back up slowly, chest constricting again. They did know each other. 

The boy in the window seat—Damian apparently—looked up from where his head had been bowed over a book. You couldn’t really make out the words scribbled in the margins, but both the text and the handwritten notes looked like something in the Arabic language family. He put his arm out and the other boy reached across you to place his phone into the outstretched hand. 

“You need to turn on your cellular data for the app store. There’s no internet here.” His voice was low in pitch and quiet. The kind people listened to. Window Seat Boy (it felt weird calling him Damian even if you knew his name) easily unlocked the phone—a red-cased, beat up iPhone—and started rifling through settings. 

The other boy turned his attention to you and you gave an awkward smile. 

“I kinda just realized that it’s probably really annoying to be in the middle of us so did you want to switch with me? Like so every time we talk to each other you’re not in the middle?” 

Your eyebrows raised in surprise. The offer was unexpected, but he looked genuine. You didn’t want to wait for him to potentially change his mind. 

“Yeah, um, that would be good—if you’re okay with that?” 

“Oh yeah I don’t care. I don’t fly like this often enough to have a seat preference. But sitting in the middle of two strangers would probably not be it.” 

Your response huff of involuntary laughter surprised you. He seemed sweet. Your guard dropped a little bit as he stood up in the now empty aisle to let you out. You pulled your bag out from under the seat in front of you and dropped both it and your jacket on the now vacated seat before sliding out and standing up yourself. 

“After you.” You gestured to the empty seat. He shot you a grin before maneuvering more awkwardly than you thought possible into the middle seat. 

“These are so cramped. How do people fly like this?” he muttered, then accepted his phone back from Window Seat Boy. You felt a smile tug at your lips, shoving your backpack under the seat as you sat back down.

“It’s the lack of legroom that gets me. There’s barely enough space for my bag, much less my feet.” 

Now, Middle Seat Boy turned to look at you. His eyes—shining from behind black rectangular frames—were a startling crystal blue. A smile spread across his face and you felt your chest squeeze for a different reason this time. You didn’t even have it in you to reprimand your brain; it really was a pretty smile. 

“Yeah I don’t get it. How is this supposed to be comfortable?” 

“It’s not supposed to be comfortable,” you said, “it’s supposed to make the airlines money.” 

There was a soft huff from Window Seat Boy and Middle Seat Boy’s grin widened. He extended his hand, elbow pressed awkwardly against his torso, before seemingly deciding against it and putting it back down. 

“I’m Jon. And this is Damian.” He gestured to the boy next to him, whose face was once again buried in his book. Damian—now using his name felt less like an intrusion and more like decent politeness—gave a brief nod as he was introduced. 

You stuck your hand out and Jon let out a small laugh as he took it. 

You appreciated that he repeated your name back to you when you gave it to him. Most people just barreled on with their misunderstood pronunciations. 

“Are you heading home?” Jon looked actually interested in your answer. 

You debated for a moment before deciding to be honest. There were over a million people living in Gotham.  

“Yeah, heading back. This is my connecting flight to get home. How about you guys?” 

Jon glanced back at Damian before answering. Damian stayed invested in his book. “He’s from Gotham and I’m going back with him so technically, yeah.” 

“Work trip? Or a personal one?” 

Jon opened his mouth then closed it without saying anything. “Kinda work yeah. We missed our,” he paused as if searching for a word, “original flight so now we’re here.” 

You nodded your head understandingly. 

“Oh that sucks. Hope you weren’t delayed too long.” 

Jon hesitated, wincing as he stretched out his left arm. 

“We weren’t, technically. Was hoping not to have to fly like this, though.” 

You shrugged. 

“This is my usual airline so I don’t have much to say about that.” 

Jon found that funnier than you expected, but you felt a smile crawl across your face as he laughed. The crackle of the intercom interrupted whatever he was about to say. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your pilot speaking. Thank you all for your patience this afternoon. As you know, weather delays kept the plane from arriving here on time and we are happy to finally have you on board. My apologies for the delay in takeoff. There’s been a slight mechanical issue, but we should get it all straightened out in the next twenty minutes so just sit tight. Thank you for your cooperation” 

You sighed heavily, eyes rolling.

“Of course there is.” 

Jon’s worried expression snapped to you. 

“What?” 

Your eyebrows scrunched down in confusion. 

“'What' what?” 

“You said 'of course there is'. Of course there’s what?”

You felt your shoulders relax. 

“Oh, another delay. Almost every plane I take on my own has some sort of delay. Like my last flight was an hour and fifteen minutes behind. And now this one. I just want to go home, you know? I’m exhausted.” 

Jon slumped in his chair. 

“Yeah, me too.” 

He looked exhausted, you realized, eyes decorated with underbags and body slouched into his seat. He was also wearing two sweaters, even though the plane was more warm than chilly. 

“Are you okay?” 

Jon shrugged, smiling. 

“I haven’t uh—I haven’t gotten enough sun recently but yeah.” 

You let out a small huh of understanding and looked out the window open across the aisle from you. It was dark out despite the fact that the sun hadn’t quite set. He wasn’t native to Gotham, you remembered. Cloudy days are the default there, but you knew a couple people who could never make it in Gotham just for that reason. 

It felt weird to put in your headphones and tune out the boy next to you now. Usually, you wouldn’t have thought twice, but you liked him and didn’t want to block him out. Instead, you tucked the headphones back in and pulled a craft project out of your bag, continuing the row of stitches you were on when you put it down at your first gate early in the morning. 

After a moment, you looked up to see Jon watching you. 

“Whatcha making?” He asked, eyes tracing the pattern of your project. You paused, hands stilling mid-stitch.

“Nothing specific really. Just something to pass the time. It’s a pattern I found online a little while back. I kinda enjoy the time on planes and the like that force me to not watch something. Even though technically there’s in-flight entertainment, there’s not too much I enjoy so I’d rather read or something, you know?” You completed the stitch, eyes flicking back to Jon as you tugged it tight. Jon’s head tilted to the side. You had to stop yourself from smiling at the movement. It was cute, a little bit like a puppy. 

“In-flight entertainment?” 

“Like movies and TV shows, whatever the airline puts on it. You didn’t know that?” Jon shook his head. “How often do you fly?” Jon’s eyes widened. For a moment you thought you’d offended him. “I’m not judging you or anything I just—”

“No! No, you didn’t. I don’t…take airplanes much.” 

“Ok well there’s a whole selection of movies on the app, if you have that. This plane has some TV channels,” you said, gesturing to his TV. It was streaming a basketball game, same as most of the others around you. You’d turned yours off before continuing on your project. A quick glance at Damian’s revealed that his was also turned off. “But there’s a better selection of stuff on the app and then you can connect your bluetooth or whatever headphones to your phone and watch with those.” You pulled your phone from your pocket, opening the app and navigating to the entertainment section. 

“See?” You hit the button for the ‘view all’ list and turned the phone to Jon. “You can’t do anything with it unless you’re on the plane but since we are, here it is.” 

Jon pulled out his phone and navigated to the same page you were on, then started scrolling down. 

“This one’s okay but I feel like I’ve seen it a thousand times.” He tilted the phone towards you, display open to a movie from a few months ago. 

“Oh, I meant to see that movie but never got to. Do you recommend it?” 

Jon returned to the main page and shrugged. 

“I think you can do better.” 

You smiled, stuffing your project back into your bag in favor of scrolling through the movie list yourself. 

“Let’s see what they’ve got.”

[slutty-transformation-stories]

The Trip

"You're going to love it, I promise," Rachel said, her voice bubbling with excitement over the phone. She was packing her bag, her eyes darting from her open suitcase to the list of items she had meticulously typed out on her laptop.

"Yeah, I'm sure I will," Tom replied, trying to match her enthusiasm. Rachel had won a weekend trip to London in an online trivia contest. It was a chance for her to explore the city she had read so much about in her favorite books and a well-deserved break from her rigorous college schedule. Rachel was the quintessential nerd, her glasses perpetually perched on her nose as she devoured knowledge like it was going out of style.

The weekend came and went with no word from Rachel. At first, Tom wasn't too concerned; she was probably just busy with the sights. But as Sunday evening rolled around and she still hadn't checked in, a knot began to form in his stomach. He tried calling her, but the line went straight to voicemail. He sent text after text, but they remained unread.

Tom waited anxiously for Rachel's flight to land, checking the airline's flight status every few minutes. When the plane was delayed, he felt a flicker of hope that maybe she was just stuck in the airport, caught up in the chaos of travel. But when the flight finally arrived and Rachel wasn't on it, panic began to set in. He called her family, her friends, anyone who might know where she was. No one had heard from her.

The days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months. Rachel's disappearance was a complete mystery. The London police did their best, but without any leads, the case grew cold. Tom couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible had happened. Rachel was too responsible to just vanish without a trace. He couldn't bear the thought of her being hurt or scared, out there alone in a foreign city.

On the one-year anniversary of Rachel's disappearance, Tom's phone buzzed with a text message. The sender was Rachel's number, but the message was unlike anything he could have expected. "Hi baby, I missed you but I'm happy here now. I get so much dick so don't send anyone else to get me." His heart raced as he clicked on the attached photo. The girl in the picture looked like Rachel, but she was unrecognizable. Her black hair was now blonde, her skin tan, and her eyes no longer needed the glasses that had once been a part of her identity. Her face was plump with fillers, and her body had been transformed. She was smiling, surrounded by a group of tough-looking men with tattoos and gold chains. The words in the text were a slap in the face, a taunt from a world he didn't understand.

The Rachel he knew would never say something like that. The Rachel he knew was sweet, kind, and innocent. The Rachel in the photo looked like a completely different person. Tom felt a mix of anger, sadness, and fear. He had to find out what had happened to her. This wasn't just about her being missing anymore; it was about saving her from whatever hell she was living in.

He called the number immediately, but it was disconnected. The only thing left was the photo, a haunting reminder of what Rachel had become.

Thank you for all the support. I will say this is my own twist on a caption I believe I saw a long time ago. I'm not sure where it was from.

[blacktofade]

Fic: with you in my head

Ethoslab/Geminitay, NC-17, ~5.5k

Gem and Etho meet up in person, under the stipulation that Gem wears a blindfold the whole time.

--

Gem leans against the door as she shuts it behind herself, heartbeat faster than it reasonably should be.

She stays there for a long minute, keeping her breathing slow and even as she takes in the room around her.

There's nothing special about it — it's an average hotel room. It's on the smaller side, but the bed looks like a king and there's a large window with the curtains drawn. On her left, there's a door that leads to the bathroom and when she glances through, she finds the mirror is fogged like someone recently showered.

She feels drawn to it, the sign of life, stepping inside out of sheer curiosity.

On the counter by the sink, there's a travel bag, open with items spilling out — a razor, a can of shaving foam, a toothbrush that's still wet, like it was used within the last hour.

There's also a crumpled towel that has no hope of drying, and her hand hovers over it, half tempted to pick it up and see if it smells even more like the woody scent of men's body wash that the room is filled with.

Instead, she glances up at the mirror. Around eye-level, in uneven capital letters, it says HI GEM.

[Read more]

[kyokimidori]

Dratomione

Prompt: A hardware store clerk helps a person they are pretty sure is assembling a murder kit

Hermione stared down at the items in front of her. She had seen many strange purchases since she had started this job, but this was ridiculous. She tried not to look at the man making said purchases, though he was watching her with a heavy gaze, making her shiver.

Quietly she scanned each item, the tone of the scanner going off each time.

Rope. Beep. Duct Tape. Beep. Shovel. Beep. Gloves. Beep. Saw. Beep.

Her hands trembled as she scanned the last item, industrial size garbage bags.

That was it. She was almost positive the handsome man infront of her was putting together a murder kit.

What should she do? Should she call the police? The manager? Should se run for help?

She jumped when she heard him clear his throat, repeating the question she had obviously missed.

“What is my total miss?”

“Oh, yes, sorry” she mumbled looking at the total and telling him. He nodded before paying with cash.

Definitely a murder kit.

She was about to press the panic button beneath her drawer when her boyfriend walked through the door. His eyes immediately landed on her before they travelled to the tall dark haired man in front of her.

“Tom!” Draco called, shocking Hermione.

Why the hell did her boyfriend know this potential murder suspect? Her hand dropped from the panic button.

“Draco, you know this customer?” she asked. Draco turned sheepish, rubbing the back of his head as if embarrassed.

“Well yeah... “

Hermione waited for an explanation. She was not getting any. She looked between the two men, seeing the one named Tom smirk.

“Look, you have about sixty seconds to tell me why you know a man who is obviously putting together a kit to murder someone, before i call the cops” she said.

There was a long beat of silence before both men started to laugh.

She looked at them, dumbfounded. “What is so bloody funny?” she demanded.

Draco shook his head “Tom isn't murdering anyone ‘Mione. He’s preparing for tonight. It was supposed to be a surprise, but of course he chose the one store you worked at.” he smirked “Tom and I were going to participate in the fantasy you told me about a few months ago... The one where you are abducted by two men and…”

Hermione flushed, looking around, grateful no one else was in ear shot “I know what fantasy you are talking about” she squealed cutting off the rest of his words.

She was surprised to hear that her boyfriend actually wanted to participate in something like that. He was not a sharing kind of guy. Even more surprising was the fact that he was willing to do so with such an attractive man. She nearly believed him, except for three items.

“If what you are saying is true, then explain the shovel, garbage bags, and saw”

“Yard work” Tom replied easily “I recently inherited my father's manor and there is a lot of work to be done. There is an old tree I have to trim, several bushes that need to be dug up, and lots of debris.”

Hermione frowned only managing to form one word “Oh”

Draco frowned at her “You still want to right?”

“Y-Yes” she said flushing “I just thought--”

“That I was a murderer” Tom finished her sentence, something unrecognizable flashing in his dark eyes “It was an honest mistake. I enjoyed watching you shake” he smirked at her “I look forward to watching you tremble in other ways soon”

Hermione turned redder, barely mutter a goodbye to the man before he left, telling Draco he would see them tonight.

Draco stayed behind, pulling her into a hug and telling her they could cancel. Hermione refused, after all, there was something about the way Tom talked to her that made her feel like his promise was a challenge.

Hermione wasn’t one to back down, potential danger or not. After all, it wouldn't be thrilling if there wasn't a bit of danger.

[the-clay-quarters]

Okay this took me three days bcus I spent Way too long thinking about it but! here's my guys in @t6fs' template!

The only bit of this that was left blank for non character reasons is the dreams- I avoid all the dream cards in game to avoid nightmares, so I don't really know the vibes oops. Oh, and the key items are distinctive things they carry regularly, excluding things they'd own at home. Otherwise, detail bits under the cut! I ended up with a lot of notes and wanted to ramble, it's really fuckin long <3

Silverstein

"His" pet is Pembroke's Half-Wild Mandrake (from bag a legend). They both agree that it is still hers, it's just hard to take care of in the middle of the city so it lives out with him. Otherwise, he keeps no pets.

Apathetic but also opinionated: On most things, he's very apathetic, simply agreeing with other people's decisions. On the other hand, though, he is strongly revolutionary and aiming for a lot of change... Not that he'd tell you that, not that you should know.

Dreams: It's canon that clay men can't dream :( No rights

Habitat: He likes being out and about, he spends most of his day out in the streets. He does a lot of "low skill" but high strength work, like moving services or construction.

Both hot/cold and coffee/tea are Neither for clay man reasons: Very high and cold temperatures cause him issues in different, equally annoying ways, and he can't eat/taste either, so no preference on food or drink.

Items: The gloves are clay stained, actually, and primarily on the inside. He started collecting first city coins for heart's desire and just has a habit of keeping some on him now. Horse head amulet... fear of death and uncertainty about the particulars of clay men :)

Flower, white rose: Did you know all the funky coloured roses (ie blue or rainbow) are made by dying white ones? :)c

Animal, saint bernard: Big but fairly gentle and lazy, would be a guard dog if asked but is mostly content to just sit

Element, rock slide: Change! Upheaval! Rocks :3

Pembroke:

The pet is her hunting dog, lovely lil thing <3 She doesn't keep many pets as she's a very busy person (and wouldn't want to put that on her poor housekeeper) but a good dog is always useful.

Rude-polite range is because she defaults to, and is usually, quite polite but often is also overcome with the need to be an absolute lil shit. Duality of man <3

Lodgings: Rooms above an ex-bookshop, now her tailoring shop!

Enemies: See: habit of being a chaotic lil shit. Apparently people don't like it when you think their party is too boring and try to spice it up smh

Items: A wedding ring with no match. A pocket watch to keep a tight schedule. A weapon of some sort, picked from a diverse collection. A travel sewing kit for rogue buttons and popped stitches. A hat pin, back up weapon :)

Flower, green dahlia: .......This one's mostly a pun off of Delia ngl

Animal, borzoi: Fancy and elegant looking, but still a hunting dog. Pretty but vicious~

Vincent:

The pet listed is a frost-moth but they have so. many. bugs. The phosphorescent scarabs are also pets. They have spiders. They keep any and every type of bug to either study or have as a pet. Please never visit their flat if you don't like bugs.

Gender: Bureaucratic misunderstanding. They filled out various forms wrong when they were first travelling to the neath, rolled with the neutral pronouns, realised they like it more than they probably should, and simply refused to think about that at all

Logic-emotion range is them trying to lead with logic but also having high anxiety

Lawful-chaotic and apathetic-opinionated are also anxiety, honestly. Though, for the latter, they are just quiet about their more out-there opinions, especially in the realm of politics. It's a culture thing kinda sorta, if I get into that here it'll add like 3 paragraphs at least.

Cultural identity: Catalan! Very proud of that! But won't default to that and will usually say they're Spanish. I can't get into that for the exact same reasons as the last point oops

Allies: This guy ☝ is depressed and isolating themself

Remember vs forget: When you're this far from home, your culture comes just from your own memories that you can't afford to lose. But also fuck wouldn't it be nice to simply forget the things causing you anxiety.

Items: Big round glasses to counter their shortsightedness. Bugs. Anti spider goggles that aren't prescription, both because they were originally lent and because they don't usually need to see very far with them on. Catholic rosary, worn under their shirt. Bugs. Surface currency, specifically Spanish pesetas, sent from their parents. Bugs. Bugs. More bugs.

Flower, forget me nots: Blue, anxiety coded, pretty <3

Animal, mantis: Awkward looking, vibes <3 Also, specifically hierodula papua bcus it's blue!

[the-chosen-fanfiction]

Mother Mary | The Joys And Fears Of Motherhood | Platonic [Male Reader]

Dialogue prompt: "You did a good job with Him."

When Mary is uncertain whether she has been a good mother to her Son, you reassure her of her worth.

Requested by J Bart

The Mount of Olives is one of Mary’s favourite spots to retreat to nowadays. Although not present herself at the time of her Son’s ascension, she finds solace in standing here, gazing up at the sky with the knowledge that He will return one day, and that she is favoured by God Himself. The burden of being the mother of the Son of God was — and still is, in some way — heavy. Mary never truly understood the true meaning of Jesus’ ministry, the full picture of what had to happen, until the moment was there that He gave the Spirit and the days afterwards. Now that He has returned to heaven to sit at His Father’s right hand, she misses Him like a mother would miss her child under any other circumstance. Son of God or not, He had still been her boy, the One she birthed and raised, and somewhere deep down inside her heart, He would always be that, regardless of divinity.

Jesus had instructed John to take in Mary as if she were his own mother, and the son of Thunder hadn’t hesitated to take on his Master’s command. Whereas John the Beloved had become her son to look after her, she liked spending time with the rest of His followers, too, you included. “Will you walk with me?” she had asked you this morning on the threshold of your home. You hadn’t hesitated to join her on one of her routine walks to the place she liked to visit so much.

You’re carrying a bag containing lunch and water skins, not wanting to encumber Mary with the heavy items as you walk up the mount where Jesus had been taken into heaven. She’s walking next to you with that particular kind smile she usually wears. Even for a woman who suffered so much through the afflictions of her son, knowing she would lose Him one day, she remains strong and positive in the face of hardship. From your mother, you had learnt that parenthood was difficult in and of itself, so you’d reckon that being the mother of the Messiah would be even heavier to digest. 

Everything about this woman is admirable. You’d only be so lucky to have an ounce of her resilience. From what you have learnt over the past years of travelling at Jesus’ side, you know that these words are better to be said out loud to the person in question. Perhaps you’ll find a good moment to tell her.

The two of you veer off the beaten path and find the field where the Disciples had told you Jesus had ascended into heaven. Neither you nor Mary had borne witness to this event, but knowing that this was the place where it had happened brings some solace into your heart. Not that it would ultimately matter, for no place on Earth is as holy as the Son of Man Himself and the last thing you want is for the soil He stood on to become an idol in and of itself, but still you find peace in knowing His promise of return. Be it in a few months, years, perhaps even centuries. Another valuable lesson you have taken away is that God’s definition of ‘soon’ is not only variable, but also very different from what mortal men may consider ‘soon’. 

The sun is at its highest point and shines down on you with a ferocity that has you squint against the bright blue sky. Mary narrows her gaze a bit as she looks up, folding her hands on her back as she deeply inhales. “Thank you for coming with me, son.” she muses. 

“Of course.” you reply, “I like spending time with you. Makes me feel like I still have an eema in some way, even though John is like your son, now.” Mary gives you a gentle look as you mention your late mother. 

“Ah, I’d be happy to fill that role in some way, if only in listening to you.” 

“Just your presence and kind words are enough, really.” you admit. 

“Well, I’m glad to. And in a way, I feel a little like the mother of all of you.” 

Lightly chuckling, you reach into your bag to offer her a drink of water. She accepts it and takes a long swig from the waterskin. Something flashes inside her gaze, her eyes turning to the clouds, a bittersweet smile tugging at her lips as she takes another thoughtful sip.

She hands it back to you. 

“You must miss Him a lot.” 

Mary hums. “You have no idea.” There is a certain edge in her voice you’ve rarely heard on her. You put an arm around her, giving her a side-hug, which she reciprocates fondly.

“Some days are easier than others.” Mother Mary remains positive. “And there is no other woman who can say she gave birth to the Son of God.” 

“Changed His nappies, too.” 

Mary laughs at that a bit. “Son of God, yet fully human.” 

“Fully human indeed. I recall the stories you used to tell us around the fire. I’ve never seen Nathanael so horrified.” 

She laughs and rests a hand on her cheek as she sighs, turning her gaze to the sky again, almost as if she is expecting for her Son to come back for a few minutes just for her. “I know that I am greatly blessed.”

“You are. And I think I can speak for all of us when I say that we greatly admire you.”

Mary lets out a high pitched hum and gives you a gentle smile. “Hm. That’s very sweet of you to say, (Y/n). But you’re giving me too much credit. It is Jesus Who deserves all the praise.”

You sigh at her humble nature.

“Don’t be hard on yourself.” 

A brief silence. The soft look falls from her features and makes place for a frown instead as she stares at the grass below for a moment. “Sometimes… I just feel like I could have done better.” Mother Mary confesses, “I know I’m not perfect, no one is except Jesus Himself, but… Well, being His mother has added so much extra weight to my task.”

“I have yet to meet a mother who is perfect.” you say. “I know many mothers. I knew the eema of Peter and Andrew. She wasn’t perfect. And Salome, do you think she’s perfect? No, not even closely. My own eema, may she rest in peace, was full of flaws, too. Did I love her any less because of it? Of course not. Do James and John hold it against their mother that she sometimes runs her mouth? They love her just as much. Peter and Andrew only talk positively about their late eema.” 

Mary listens to your words, her uncertainty melting away. “You did a good job with Him. You brought Him up well. You have taken care of Him through it all, remained patient with Him, taught Him how to traverse life like the rest of us. And in the end — although this is not the end — He is right where He should be. He has done what He had been sent to do in the first place, done the will of the Father.” 

She mulls over your words for a moment, weighing their worth whilst digesting their truth. You were correct; Every choice she has ever made in her life regarding her Son has led to this very reality. And along the way, she has made it easier for Him. Mary remained a source of motherly comfort wherever she could, and maybe, just maybe, the thought of her has helped him reach Him the cross, too. After all, Jesus died and rose not for those who don’t know Him, but also to those closest to Him — even His own mother was in need of salvation after all, as she had sung in her joyous melody upon visiting her late aunt Elizabeth. 

Both of you cast your gazes upwards towards the skies as one being, where you knew Jesus had ascended into heaven to be with the Father, to return at a moment and time no one knew. It could be ten years, a hundred, a thousand. You have learnt during your time with Jesus, the meaning of soon can be different depending on the context as well as on the person in question uttering the term — patient or impatient, human or divine — and keeping that in mind you are well aware that in this lifetime, you might not see Him anymore, but beyond that. And what is this moment, this very life, compared to eternity itself?

Mary lets out a shivering sigh, a solemn edge to the sound. “I miss Him.” 

“I’m sure He misses you, too. Mary, you’ve been the best eema you could have been. You have completed an honourable task and I’m certain you will be elevated about it for ages to come. God sees your heart, knows your thoughts, your struggles. And He knows you did well. You did all you could, and you’ve done so splendidly.” 

A cloud drifts in front of the sun, casting a shadow over the two of you. It brings forth a cooler breeze. “I brought date cakes.” Mary says, referring to the paper-wrapped package she had given to you earlier to put inside the bag. “They’re likely melting away.” 

“Oh, they’ve got honey in them?” 

She nods and smiles, causing your stomach to involuntarily rumble. “You don’t need to tell me twice. Let’s sit for a while.” 

The sugary date cakes stick to your fingers as Mary hands you one. You thank her, saying a quick prayer over it before you dig in. The treat melts on your tongue and you hum. “These were one of Jesus’ favourite foods when He was a child.” Mary tells you, causing your interest to pique. 

“Really?” 

“Mh-mm. I was very surprised when He first tried them and immediately asked for more, seeing that He had a very strong dislike towards raisins.” 

“Raisins? Really? How come I’ve never known this? We had— Jesus sometimes ate raisins while on the road.” You snort a laugh. “I’m very confused right now.” 

Mary laughs and licks some honey from her lips before swallowing her bite of food. “Hm… I know that Jesus didn’t complain about any food while travelling. He knew it was scarce and if He had to eat it, of course He would do so without whimpering about it. But whenever I gave Him the choice between cakes with or without raisins, He always chose the latter. I won’t say that Jesus refused to eat them, I’m just trying to say that… He had preferences.” 

“As we all do.” you muse at the lighthearted story about Mary’s experiences with raising the Son of God. “Fully divine, yet fully human.” 

“Before He rose again, yes.” Mary sighs, smiling as she finishes the rest of her sweet treat. You take another bite of yours and observe the older woman as she rinses the stickiness from her hands with a bit of water. “Now, He has returned to His Father in full glory.” 

The clouds leave the sun alone again, drifting away to allow warm rays to cast over your faces. Mary closes her eyes, basking in it.

“I can’t wait to see Him again.” you confess suddenly. “And until then, we will praise Him. And spread the Word of God, as He commanded us to do. To go to the ends of the Earth to make it known.” 

Mary lets out a pleasant sound before turning to you again. “I wish I could still do more, but these old bones…” 

You give a small shake of your head, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“You have done enough. You have been working so hard for more than thirty years. I think it’s high time that you’ve earned your rest. Just be a witness of Him however you can. The students, all the believers, we will answer to our own calling. Take it easy, okay? You feel things as much as any other mother does, grief and wistfulness, and there is nothing wrong with that. Allow yourself time, and the rest will sort itself out, as long as we focus on Him.” 

You gesture at the sky, a movement that Mary follows with her eyes before she looks at you again. 

“You have wise words in you, (Y/n). I am certain that God will use you for His glory.”

A soft smile tugs at your lips. “I’m sure of it, too. Now, I was wondering…” Her eyes widen a bit as you lean closer to her, your smile turning into a grin. “Do you have any more of these lovely date cakes?” 

Mary laughs lightly and pats your shoulder, reaching for the package again. “Of course. You boys are always so hungry for seconds.” 

Gratefully, you dig into a second piece of cake as she fondly watches you enjoy the sweet treat. Mary knew she had to bring enough of it. It is a part of her motherly instinct that she will never quite lose, no matter how much time passes. 

[backpackemporium]

Price: 253.45$

Pockets: Three pockets One large main compartment, in the shape of a half-sphere. One tablet sleeve. One internal pocket for smaller items.

Material: 100% genuine cowhide full-grain top-layer leather, Handmade.

Size: 12.6"H, 12.6"L, 5.9"W. ~8.6 Liters

Colors: Red, Dark Brown, Black

Details: ● Personalization available: Add a monogram for an additional 10$ ● Interesting shape, reminiscent of an armadillo or pillbug. ● Unpadded straps, but due to the small capacity this is unlikely to cause many problems. ● Closes with a traditional buckle, not magnetized. ● The unpadded sleeve for a tablet should fit tablets under ten inches easily, exact dimensions are unknown. ● Marketed by the seller as unique, but this isn't exactly true. A handful of other sellers on Etsy also make this design.

[komotionlessqueenmm]

Hail To The End Of The World~

(1-?)

Short story # 18

✨Fandom(s) - The Expendables (Movies) & The Walking Dead (Series)

💍Pairing - Gunnar Jensen X Reader

🕯Summary - While traveling with Gunnar in search of the rest of your team, you cross paths with a survivor group, who upon seeing your equipment practically beg you to stay and help them.

⚠️Warning(s) - None really. Except for an age gap between you and Gunnar if that's something that should be warned? And like zombies dying but that's to be expected.

📝Note(s) - This just kinda popped into my head the other day, so here we are. So firstly Tool is your dad in this story, and your described as having a bunch of tattoos, and quite a few scars, including some facial scars. Other than that I don't think I go much into detail about anything else to do with you, other than a troubled past. (But that comes with the territory.) oh and you can draw now, like really well because I thought of something cute like 3/4th of the way through this. Plus you're Tools kid, so it's fitting.

🗝Key information - Text in orange parentheses (EXAMPLE) is the translation google gave me for the quotes written in Swedish.

🌬Year posted - 2023

📖Reading Time - Roughly 23 minutes.

🙈Rating - SFW/NSFW

◈Pt. 1 | ◈Pt. 2 |

"Come on." Gunnar muttered quietly to his partner, (Y/n). Who was swift if advancing as he had instructed her, her rifle snug in her arms felt so natural, like a another part of her. "Knives only." He reminded her, despite not actually needing to, as they crept up on a small cluster of five walkers. They dispatched their targets without a hitch, and continued on their way, slowly carving their way through Atlanta. "Five minutes." (Y/n) tossed over her shoulder to Gunnar, before she slipped into the old tech store, Gadgets 9000. Stupid name for a store, but that didn't matter. Gunnar scanned the surrounding area once more before following the younger woman inside. She'd killed the one walker that was inside, and was scowering the shelves and floor for the items she needed. "Bingo." She muttered and quickly shrugged off her bag, tossing the necessary items into the bag, along with a few simple items that would be good backups. "Times up." Gunnar called as he neared her, tapping her shoulder with two fingers to signal that she needed to be on guard again. Wordlessly she finished up and slung her bag back onto her back, readying herself for a potential fight as she picked up her rifle.

"Through the back." Gunnar instructed, on the off chance someone might have followed them, and would be waiting to ambush them out front. (Y/n) nodded her head and took the lead, per the usual. Once outside and they'd started to make their way down the alleyway, (Y/n) spared a quick glance back to Gunnar. "Where to now?" She questioned quietly, knowing they couldn't go back to their old camp, which was now overrun by a hord. "West." Was all he said as he pointed the barrel of his rifle in the direction. (Y/n) nodded in understanding and kept moving, now to the west, realizing quickly that it would be the quickest way out of the city. The realization making her smirk a little, as impressed as always with Gunnars tactical observations. Wordlessly Gunnar tapped two fingers against her shoulder once more, having taken notice of another set of footsteps approaching them, precise steps of a living person. (Y/n) instantly dropped to one knee in front of him, bringing her rifle up and aiming at where he pointed to the source of the sound. Gunnar also quickly trained his rifle, taking a sturdy stance behind (Y/n) and waiting.

Two men then rounded the corner, both of them freezing at the sight of the rifles pointed at them. "Woah h-hold on." The shorter of the two instantly holds his hands up in surrender, even with the bat still in his hands. "Don't shoot." The second guy also held his hands up in surrender, a crowbar in his hand. "Who are you?" (Y/n) asked, her voice stern and stoic. "I-I'm Glenn t-this is T-dog." The shorter male explained. "You never saw us." Gunnar stated tapping at (Y/n)'s shoulder to signal their retreat. "W-wait!" Glenn called out a little louder than he intended, jumping when the pair quickly spun on their heel, guns trained on him again. "W-we have a group." He started, looking increasingly nervous about having guns pointed at him, which was fair. "We could use your help." T-dog cut in, having realized like Glenn that these two strangers were far more equipped for this new world they all found themselves in. (Y/n) and Gunnar shared a look. "I could focus on fixing the transmitter more with a group of people looking out for the geeks." (Y/n) stated casually. "Yeah." Gunnar nodded his head, the thought having occurred to him as well. "Let's go." He stated as he looked to the others, who both nodded then turned to lead them back to their camp by the quarry.

----

Initially when Glenn and T-dog showed up with next to no medical supplies, Shane was beyond annoyed, at least until his eyes cast to the newcomers. Now he was annoyed for another reason. "Deputy Shane Walsh." He introduced himself as he approached the two, the rest of the group crowding behind him to observe the new faces. "(Y/n)." She introduced herself before nodding her head back towards her partner. "That's Gunnar." She wouldn't offer their last names, what was the point in last names anymore anyways? Shane took in the sight of their gear. "You guys military?" He asked what everyone else was thinking. "Something like that." Gunnar stated without offering an explanation. "We just need somewhere to lay low for a little while, then we'll be out of your hair." (Y/n) explained as she propped the butt of her rifle against her hip. "We can offer a hand with setting up some defenses." She added, as she looked around observing that they had no defenses. Shane internally bristled at her words, hating that he hadn't thought of setting any defenses up in the first place. "Alright." Shane agreed with a nod of his head, stalking off to sulk about being shown up by the newcomers.

The rest of the group was quick to welcome the pair, well aside from the degenerates in the crowd, and the pair was quickly bombarded with questions. When (Y/n) realized they had originally sent Glenn and T-dog out to get medical supplies, she offered a helping hand to look at the minor injuries a few of them had sustained while doing odd jobs. "Thank you (Y/n)." Andrea smiled warmly, as (Y/n) finished tending to the burn Andrea had sustained to her hand. "You're welcome." (Y/n) smiled back, though it didn't reach her eyes like it had Andreas. "Who..." She started as (Y/n) was packing up the little supplies she hadn't used. "Who exactly are you guys?" Andrea asked in a soft tone, clearly nervous about asking that question. "Ghosts." Was all (Y/n) offered before walking off to assist Gunnar with a quick perimeter check. "Their gonna get themselves killed." Gunnar stated as they slipped into the woods. "Probably." (Y/n) agreed with a shrug. "This world isn't what their used to, not even that deputy." She added, her words making Gunnar chuckle. "He doesn't like us." The Sweed pointed out. "I have a feeling he doesn't like many people." She snickered softly.

"You met the rednecks yet?" Gunnar asked as they continued their task. "Can't say I have." (Y/n) shook her head, recalling that she'd seen them, but she hadn't met them. "Avoid the older one, he's trouble." He stated casually, and (Y/n) simply nodded in agreement, trusting her partners judgment. Once they'd finished their patrol they made it back to the camp, going over some ideas of defense plans with a few of the group members, the few who seemed competent enough to offer input. "Honestly your best bet out here would be to just set up noise makers." (Y/n) concluded, knowing it would take far to long to set up proper defenses in such a large place. "Noise makers?" Dale wondered aloud, pulling an almost inaudible sigh from Gunnar, but (Y/n) had heard, she always heard. "Yeah just some tripwires attached to something that'll make a bunch of noise, so if a walker as you all call them trips over the wire, you'll all be alerted to the noise. They're easy to make, and convenient." (Y/n) explained, and the older man nodded his head in understanding. "Right. Sorry." Dale chuckled softly. "Don't apologize, questions are good." The younger woman waved him off before casting her gaze to Glenn.

"I assume you all have a designed place you take your trash?" She asked him, and he quickly nodded his head in agreement. "Good. We need to gather all the cans and bottles we can, and we'll need fishing line, a lot of line." Dale quickly perked up at that. "I've got a bunch of extra fishing line in the rv." He stated. "Perfect." She nodded before turning to follow Glenn, only to stop when Gunnar placed a hand on her shoulder. "You go deal with the lines, I'll deal with the trash." He instructed, making (Y/n) smile softly. "If you say so." She mused before following Dale. As Gunnar and Glenn rummaged through the garbage pile Glenn couldn't help but glance at the larger man from the corner of his eye, unsure of how to feel about the brooding behemoth of a man. "So (Y/n)." Glenn tried striking up small talk, and Gunnar simply grunted in acknowledgement. "Is she... Single?" Glenn asked. "No." Gunnar deadpanned. "Oh." Glenn swallowed nervously, understandably intimidated by the older man. "You guys?..." Glenn wondered aloud before he could stop himself, mentally scolding himself as soon as he did. "Yep." Gunnar hadn't even spared the young man a glance, which Glenn was admittedly grateful for, he was already anxious enough.

"S-she uh... She mentioned something about a transmitter?" Glenn tried changing the subject. "Doesn't concern you." Gunnar quickly shot him down, and Glenn took that as a sign to just stop talking. Gathering what they could into a few boxes, Gunnar lugged the majority of it back, while Glenn carried what he could. "Perfect timing as always." (Y/n) mused at Gunnar when he placed the boxes by her feet. When he straightened his back he allowed (Y/n) to tug him down to her height by his vest, smirking when she planted a quick peck to the side of his mouth. But before she could pull away, he quickly pulled her back, kissing her properly, his large hands splayed out on her lower back. (Y/n) chuckled softly as she pulled away from the kiss, staying close enough that when she spoke their lips brushed. "Someone askin' 'bout me?" She wondered with a playful glimmer in her eyes. "Just making sure they all know what's mine." The large Sweet murmured back before pecking her lips once more and straightening back up. A ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips when he noticed just about everyone was staring at them.

"You're impossible." (Y/n) mused before snatching up the first box, setting to work on making the noise makers part of the trap. "Probably." Gunnar shrugged casually before moving to assist her. By the time they'd finished that, and properly set up a perimeter with the noise makers, the sun hung low in the sky. "I'm gonna go down to the quarry and clean up a little bit." (Y/n) informed Gunnar, patting his shoulder affectionately before walking off. "Hey." He called to her before she could get to far, smirking when she turned to him without argument. "Yeah?" She tilted her head a little. "Just in case." He stated before tossing her his knife, still in its sheath she caught it with ease. "Careful." He added. "Always." (Y/n) mused before walking off, tucking the knife into her back pocket, after popping the safety strap in case she needed to grab it quickly. Satisfied Gunnar turned his attention back to her rifle, having offered to clean it for her a short while ago. Lori, Andrea, Amy, Carol and the kids tagging along with (Y/n) as she made her way down to the quarry.

----

"So you and Gunnar huh?" Carol asked with a smile as the group of women huddled knee deep in the water, cleaning up a bit as best they could while the kids played on the bank. "Yeah." (Y/n) mirrored her smile. "How long?" Lori asked kindly. "Since long before this all started." (Y/n) shrugged a little. "Maybe five years, give or take." She thought about it for a moment, shrugging again with a small chuckle. "How did that happen?" Amy asked, the others all perking up at that question. "Oh well I've known Gunnar for, hell half my life. He and my father worked together, well he worked for my father on occasion. Eventually my dad got me in the same line of work, and when the team noticed how much I mellowed Gunnar out they'd team us up all the time. My father pushed us to get together, and well eventually we took his suggestion, and we've been inseparable since." (Y/n) smiled fondly. "The first time I realized I loved him, he'd saved my life for the first time, he nearly..." She cut herself off realizing she was about to reveal more than she intended. "He what?" Amy pried, completely enraptured by her story.

"Doesn't matter now, that was a long time ago." (Y/n) shook her head with a small smile, going back to the task at hand. Amy was about to pry further until Andrea nudged her side, her younger sister taking the hint she bit her tongue. "It's sweet." Carol mused aloud, the others all nodding in agreement. "You have an awful lot of tattoos (Y/n)." Lori stated casually, her eyes raking over the ink covering a good deal of the skin (Y/n) was now showing, after having striped down to a tank top and her underwear earlier. "Oh yeah my father was also a tattoo artist, he'd been tattooing me since I was sixteen." (Y/n) smiled fondly as she looked to her arms. "Sixteen!?" Andrea gasped in surprise. "Yeah... Um well something had happened when I was sixteen... I was left with a whole bunch of scars because of it." (Y/n) licked her lip, lightly tracing the scar that ran over her lips. "My father felt guilty... Because... Well because in a way it was his fault. And he saw how insecure I had become because of the scars, so he offered to start tattooing over them, to make them beautiful, to make me beautiful. And well... I took him up on that offer." (Y/n) shrugged a little, the others feeling rather saddened by her story.

"They are beautiful." Lori smiled, despite never really being one for tattoos, or really understanding why anyone would want any until now. "Thank you." (Y/n) hummed with a small smile. The group quickly turning to the bank at the sound of approaching footsteps. "Hello ladies." Merle smirked as he waved his fingers at them, an anxious atmosphere washing over the group aside from (Y/n), who simply observed him. "Get out of here." Andrea hissed at him, the kids running into the water to be shielded by their mothers. "Well that's not very nice." Merle mocked with a small frown. "I suggest you listen to her." (Y/n) moved to place herself between the women and Merle, who shamelessly looked her up and down like she were on display for him. "Or what sweetheart?" He wondered tauntingly. "Or I'll crush your fucking windpipe you creep." (Y/n) hissed, her threat making him chuckle darkly. "Oh you're feisty." Merle grinned. "I ain't playin'." She stepped onto the bank, Merle hadn't noticed the sound of rapid footsteps.

"I don't believe you." He got in her face, still grinning. "Can't say I didn't warn you." (Y/n) hummed before suddenly headbutting him. Merle cried out in pain as he fell to the ground, clutching his bleeding nose. "Merle!" Daryl called out, him and half the guys all rushing down the hill, Gunnar included. "Fucking bitch!" Merle hissed as Daryl pulled him to his feet. "I'll fucking kill you!" He yelled as he fought his younger brother to let him go. "You can try." She taunted defiantly, feeling even more confident with Gunnar at her side. "You stupid bitch." Merle hissed, having broken from Daryl's hold, only for Shane to snatch him by his coller. "Fucking let go of me!" He shouted. "You need to cool it." Shane shoved him back. "She broke my nose!" Merle hollered. "You're lucky that's all she did." Shane shot back, fully aware she could have done far worse. "Let it go." Daryl muttered to his brother, who shoved him away before storming off. "You all okay?" Shane asked, looking to Lori. "Yeah." She nodded her head, and most of crowd that had formed retreated.

"Vill du att jag ska döda honom?" (Do you want me to kill him?) Gunnar asked in his native language, making (Y/n) grin softly. "Nej." (No.) She shook her head, kissing his cheek before walking off to get properly dressed. "Thank you (Y/n)." Lori embraced her after they'd all gotten properly dressed. "Of course." (Y/n) patted her back, and smiled softly as they broke away. "He's going to have it out for you now, you know?" Andrea pointed out as (Y/n) moved to walk beside Gunnar. "Doesn't matter, I've dealt with far worse." She shrugged before leaning into Gunnars side, while he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "He has no idea who he's dealing with." Gunnar mused aloud, his words only making the others that much more curious about the pair. Once back at the camp, Gunnar led (Y/n) to the main fire, sitting down first then pulling her down to his lap. "Eat." He instructed as he passed her the MRE he'd prepared for her earlier, chili and macaroni. "What about you?" She questioned, taking note that he hadn't made two like he normally would.

"Just eat." He instructed before kissing the side of her head, more interested in taking care of her than himself at the moment. "Är de borta?" (Are they gone?) She wondered softly, knowing he wouldn't want the others to know what they were talking about, even though she doubted any of them spoke Swedish. "Nej." (No.) He rest his chin on the top of her head, his hands encasing her waist. "Okej." (Okay.) She accepted his answer, knowing better than most just how odd Gunnar can act at times, especially when he feels the need to protect her. So she did as he instructed, and ate the food, though only about half of it. "Here." She offered it to Gunnar, who glared down at her softly. "You need to eat as well big guy." (Y/n) pointed out, turning around in his lap as she stuck the spoon down into the bag. "Open." She instructed as she held the spoon out for him, he rolled his eyes playfully but complied anyways. Biting down hard enough to keep hold of the spoon when she tried to pull it back.

"Don't be like that." (Y/n) scolded playfully, giving the spoon another small tug, and smiling when it came lose. "Atta boy." She hummed softly, a giggle escaping her when Gunnar snatched the bag from her hands. Turning back around in his lap, (Y/n) reached for her bag, which lay beside Gunnars. She retrieved her precious leather bound journal, and charcoal pencil, then flipped to an empty page. "What are you up to?" Gunnar wondered as he watched her from over her shoulder. "The usual." She mused as she began drawing the sight before her. The warm fire, surrounded by some of the folks of this little survivor group. Lori, Carl, Shane, Andrea and Amy, Carol and Sophia, T-dog, Glenn, and Dale. They seemed happy in the moment, and (Y/n) wanted to commit this moment to memory. Who knows how long they'll stick around, or how long these people will survive. But tonight the world feels normal, calm and safe, and she didn't want to forget that feeling.

←Previously | Next→

*I had thought about writing this one with Joel Miller, but ended up deciding that he's getting enough attention, and my baby Gunnar needed some so I went with him instead. (^_^) And it's admittedly playing out better that way anyhow.

[warnersister]

Chapter 12 - A hanging in the Spring of '63

The Highwayman Series | Chapter 11 | Chapter 13

You run down the stairs, ignoring every creasing and creaking step on the way, hurrying into the kitchen to open the cabinet and grab a single shot round from the casing. You load the gun and tug it along with you as you drag yourself back out the front door. Penny had already got the horses from the field and was feeding them with fresh hay out front, while Maverick was too-ing and fro-ing up and down the stairs with the men’s luggage. they carried little for men who travelled a lot, but they were honorary cowboys, so were more conscientious about their horse's wellbeing rather than their own.

you collected a small bag of belongings, you were thankful for your stubbornness to own little and stretch it to be a lot; as the majority of your personal items fit into the small luggage carrier that comfily sat on lightning's side without him kicking up a fuss about the excess weight. Penny attached that to your horse too, but you hadn't the time to thank her - instead setting off in a sprint in the opposite direction where the large crowd was anxiously stood in silence, prepared for the first hanging in decades.

"Today we see the righteous deaths of four highwaymen who stepped foot into the wrong goddamn town!" Sheriff Simpson announced, gaining a cheer from a few members of the crowd who were simply grateful to see their ages Sheriff still as determined as ever to fulfil his role and duty in this town. He stopped to cough into his precious rag, trying to absentmindedly ignore the blood collecting on it.

"These bandits have no reason to terrorise this town!" He said "That boy saved you Sheriff" Doctor Bates pointed out, scowling as the man as he held his sobbing wife close to his chest. "That he did, and i am grateful for my life - however i have ingested a foreign drug into my system: an illegal one!" He barks back "They shall be hung for their crimes against this country. They shall be hung for their crimes against California. They shall be hung for their crimes against Texas. They shall be hung for their crimes against Miramar. And he will be hung for his crimes against myself and my daughter." He spits "with no jury, Beau?" Mayor Kazansky asks from the crowd, but the sheriff can only go pale and avert his gaze from the all-knowing wise man. "The reverend has blessed you, may God forgive y'all in hell-"

"Let 'em down, daddy" A voice said calmly from amongst the crowd. the large group split in two, as if Moses repeating his parting of the Red Sea and there you stood; shot gun in hand, aiming it right at your father who stood next to the four men whom the rest of humanity deemed innocent. Beau swallowed harshly "put the gun down girl, and go home" he instructs "no." he raises his brows "no?" "no." you repeat, voice void of emotion. "Y' dont even know how to use tha' thing" he laughs, and you switch your aim; firing one of the two rounds loaded at a bucket behind him, hitting it dead centre and being more or less unaffected by the recoil. "there are a lot of things i can do that y' dont know daddy. tha' ya wont know." you say, re-zeroing your weapon on his wrinkled forehead. "you still think im the twelve year old who cried with her momma, who milked the cows, who cried into your shoulder. i am a twenty three year old engaged woman with a hell of a lot of life experience. momma's gone, daddy. its time to let me go too." you say and Beau doesnt know how to reply, he doesnt want too; because he knows that you're right.

there is a moment of stillness, where no one moves and no one does anything. "dont think i will not shoot ya" you threaten, tightening your grip "dont y'love me, girl? this if for y'own good." he splutters out and you laugh "no, this is for your own good. why'd it have to be Maverick who told me why Jake left five years ago, huh?" you ask and the others in the crowd look at the two of you in question "that the only reason he did not stay to be hung was 'cause you'dve made me kick the bucket!" people gasp "so untie the goddamn nooses and let these men down.” you instruct "loose your daughter and your life, see if i care" you grunt and Beau clears his throat, mumbling something.

"what was that sir?" the executioner asked "i said let the fuckers down. now" he repeat quietly but with a bit more intent. the four men are released from their death sentences and they all walk away from the showing ground and over to you, all standing behind you as the rest of the town seemed to follow. "c'mon gorgeous" Jake whispered and pulled gently on your shoulder when your stance didnt seem to waver. you hesitated, but lowered the gun, dropping it at your feet, turning to see Mav and Penny giving you the nod.

you take a deep breath and step back, turning from the man you thought you'd love until death "goodbye, daddy" you say, and a path between the people is made to allow you to all head towards your horses, saddling on and beginning to take the road westwards: not looking back.

Chapter 11 | Chapter 13

[im-gonna-draw]

Name: Opal

Affiliation: Courtless

Alignment: Lawful Neutral

Key Personality Traits: clever, dependable, world-savvy, witty, prideful

Likes: traveling, selling merchandise, finding people to match witts with, being right, making other people look stupid, men’s clothing, Oleander

Dislikes: tricking customers, breaking/someone breaking deals, her family history, Opulence and her side of the family, romance, letting her guard down

Bio: Opulence’s estranged cousin. More specifically, she’s a descendent from the Brother in the fable “Leaves of Plenty”, who was outwitted and humiliated by the Younger Brother. Her side of the family had always lived in Opulence’s side’s shadow, often mocked for having lost their wealth to the other. Opal ultimately decided to take their story in a new direction by becoming a traveling merchant, exploring the realm far and wide with her Stall-in-a-Bag. She opens her stall wherever she sees fit and sells very rare items from her travels.

While she’s keen on overselling her merch to others, she’s adamant about making an honest sale without any trickery involved. Whether this is due to her family history or trying to distance herself from Opulence’s reputation is unknown.

Because she travels so often (and perhaps her fear of someone deceiving her and forcing her to repeat her family’s shameful history), Opal makes it a point to not form any attachments. Further, she finds romance to be a curse that makes the strongest of magical creatures act like fools (she would be considered asexual/aromantic by today’s terms). Despite all this, she can’t help but enjoy Oleander’s company, who easily matches her dry humor. They also bond over their unique taste in fashion, as Opal chooses to dress like a man as dresses make her feel too “vulnerable”.

Quotes:

• “So….you were just pretending to want to marry my cousin? …..Snrk….I laughed, sorry, that’s terrible but I did.”

• “Jack, heard you took Opulence’s home from her. You get a discount on your next purchase.”

• “Behold: A tooth or claw from a real dragon! ….Does it really matter which one it is? Did you hear me say dragon?”

• “I once watched a Siren drag a sailor to his death. I guess I could’ve saved him, but he tried to rob me once so I didn’t……Oh wait, or was that his brother? Oh dear…”

• “I’m only in this village for two days. It’s too late, you’ve seen the book! Now if you don’t buy it, you’ll always wonder ‘what if’!”

• “You pissed me off. Now I’m only here for one day.”

• “Aw, are you trying to flirt with me to get out of our deal? That’s so cute! (Beat) I hate cute.”

• “Tell you what, Oleander. Find me a good summer outfit that’ll fit my style and this tea set is all yours.”

• “Counteroffer.” (Catchphrase)

• “I won’t go back on my word. I’m not my wretched cousin.”

• “Ah, I do love the drama of a good auction.”

@leafkingofbirds

[remembertheplunge]

My one year on the street

From the book “100 Years” by Joshua Prager:

BIRTH:   “Birth was the death of him.” Samuel Beckett, A Piece go Monologue

My margin note to above:

March 15, 2018

Re: Birth was the death of him” I wrote “Me!”

The Thunderstorms raged at my birth.

There was a double rainbow over 24 hour Fitness Gym parking lot last evening. I cried a bit-----

The heavens blessed my one year on the street.

(DJ’s first night in the house was 3/15/2017)

End of entry

Notes:  1/24/2024

When I was born at 7:05pm Monday June 20, 1955, a thunder storm was raging outside per my parents (confirmed by a Google search)

 Between mid March and late October 2017, I had on about 10 separate occasions different homeless men stay with me in my house. They would stay in the guest room for anywhere between one night and a few weeks. I also filled up bags with food, socks, tooth brushes and other assorted street survival items and pass them out in my travels. I did this in at least 12 cities. This is what I was referring in my margin note above when I referred to “my year on the street”.

I met some of the homeless men in the parking lot area of 24 Hour Fitness (now Valley Gym) off Ben Holt Ave in Stockton California.  That’s why the double rain bow had such an impact on me there.

I had some harrowing , wondrous adventures during the year on the street which I intend to detail in future blogs. It was one of the best years of my life. My homed  friends said that I was going to be murdered. My clients in Jail loved my work with the homeless.

I found it to be a healing time. I was never physical injured , but I did lose lap tops, cars (taken on joy rides and returned) my wallet, an I phone. It was worth it.

I came up with the phrase “You gotta get taken to get taken to." I saw things and went places no other homed person would go.  (BY homed, I mean people that have a secure place to live and a stable income) The loss of the things was a small price to pay for the insights I gained from street life encounters.