#on-site used car inspection

[blog-carinspectors]

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[venerablemonk27]

I've done a lot of birding the past couple months and not a lot of posting, so I'm going back to our Tucson, AZ trip from April. I hadn't been to the Western US since picking up birding or wildlife photography, so I knew I was going to pick up a ton of lifers. One of our target species for the trip was also my fifth Owl species ever: the Burrowing Owl.

[ID: A Burrowing Owl stands on a mound of dirt. They are facing left and looking toward the camera. The sun is low in the sky off to the right, which illuminates the right side of the Owl's face and their back, while casting the rest in shadow. They have striking yellow eyes and a furrowed brow that gives them the appearance of a permanent scowl. Their oval-shaped head transitions naturally into a slender cylindrical body covered in mottled tan and white feathers. About half the bird's height is body and folded wings, with two naked grey legs planted on the ground. End ID]

This was the morning we had picked for me to do some solo birding, so I drove out to a spot west of Tucson where eBird indicated that Burrowing Owls were likely to appear. It was just after sunrise when I found the road cutting between farm fields where the Owls were reported. I drove slowly down the side of the road in my rented Dodge Charger, stopping occasionally to inspect a suspicious clump of dirt with my binoculars. I had not seen any sign of the Owls when a Land Rover pulled up behind me. A group of three folks in their 60s with binoculars piled out of car, clearly more birders here to do exactly what I was doing.

[ID: A Burrowing Owl stands on a mound of dirt, facing the camera. The sun is still low in the sky, but now the bird's face and chest are more brightly lit, showing the transition in feather colors from tan to mottled tan to white as they progress downward from collar to belly.]

They introduced themselves as coming from the UK, and had been visiting Arizona for several weeks in search of all the unique birds the state could offer. The driver was particularly puzzled about the location of the Owls, saying he was "absolutely foxed" that this place with no real habitat could host Burrowing Owls. I showed him the recent sightings on eBird and explained that it was possible the birds just hadn't emerged from their burrows yet.

After another 15 minutes of searching the fields, I offered to lead them to an alternate site nearby. We got in our cars and slowly drove back the way we had come. Just as we were approaching the end of the road, I spotted a small tan creature standing right on the edge of the irrigation ditch along the near side of the field. A Burrowing Owl! I swung the Charger around and flagged down my companions, who had also spotted the Owl.

[ID: A pair of Burrowing Owls stand on a mound of dirt. The one in the foreground looks decidedly sleepier and plumper than the one in the background (seen in previous images). Both Owls are similar in coloration, but the one in the foreground has an aluminum leg band for identifying them. End ID]

We got out to take a look and grab some photos from long distance, then slowly crept forward with my Charger as a rolling blind. There turned out to be four Owls spread out along the irrigation ditch, likely close to their burrows which were out of sight. They were surprisingly unbothered by the cars rolling up to them, probably because they see trucks and farm vehicles driving past all day every day. Once we were directly across the irrigation ditch from the closest pair, I climbed into the passenger seat to take some better photosm. Mostly the Owls just stood on their tiny hill and looked around. Though I did witness one of the pair above fly down to pounce on a grasshopper, then return to feed it to their partner.

[ID: A pair of Burrowing Owls stand on a mound of dirt. This photo was taken midday, with the sun directly overhead. At least one of these individuals is different from those above, as they have two leg bands instead of one. It's also apparent in the photo that the Owls are standing at the edge of a farm field from the row of green plants out of focus in the background. End ID]

I had such a great view of the Burrowing Owls that I had to bring my family back to see them on our last day in Tucson. Because we were heading out of town in the middle of the day, I was confident we'd find them right away and avoid testing the patience of my kid. It turns out I didn't have to worry. Not only were the Owls right where I left them, but the kid had fallen asleep on the drive, so we had to wake him up to see them! And seeing as I already had the camera within easy reach, I had to take a few more photos.

[ID: A Burrowing Owl stands on a mound of dirt. This one is looking alert in the midday sun, standing and scanning the area around the edge of the farm field. End ID]

On a trip full of exciting views, long hikes, and thousands of photos, it was nice to finish the trip quietly sitting in the car just a few yards away from such a compelling bird. And it always feels good to track down a lifer and share that experience with others!

[starlightshadowsworld]

Bsd x poppy playtime.

Playtime Co's on site orphanage is the orphanage Atsushi grew up in.

Atsushi was bullied by the kids, hated by the adults but the toys adored him.

Mommy Long Legs would ruffle his hair when he did a good job and swing him from game to game. Huggy Wuggy always gave Atsushi a big hug when he was scared or upset.

The toys were the only ones who cared about Atsushi. The whole world had abandoned him but they had not.

Dogday tried to bandage his wounds but his hands couldn't tie the bandage. While Mommy Long Legs yelled at the staff for letting him get hurt.

Atsushi tried to tell her not to bother, he knew they hurt her too. But she wouldn't hear any of it.

The Headmaster taught at the school.

He had adopted Atsushi, as part of Playtime Co's adopting initiative. And yet he didn't like Atsushi at all. Whenever he could, Atsushi tried to avoid him but he couldn't.

He was the proof to the rest of the staff that this whole operation was a success.

It was a lie.

But Atsushi had to act the part or he'd be punished.

Miss Stella always watched him closely when they were at the games station. Atsushi noticed that kids that left with her disappeared.

They were adopted. Or at least that's what they were told.

It was a lie.

It was all a lie.

Atsushi didn't know until Miss Stella took him aside one day. He doesn't remember what happened that day.... Or the next... Or the next...

The pain made it all blurr together. Atsushi does remember Dogday, the sad smile on his face and how he'd hold his hand before they'd take him away.

He knew about his ability, because the scientists loved and hated it. The red smoke wouldn't tire him out but make him see things no one else could.

Atsushi was the only child who ever got to see Catnaps true form. He wasn't sure if that was good or not, but at least he left Atsushi alone.

They couldn't get Atsushi into a toy.

His ability healed him before they could. So they used him a lab rat instead. Use him to test things out before trying it on other kids.

Atsushi almost died several times in the process. But as always he survived.

Even when he wished he didn't.

The hour of joy will haunt Atsushi for the rest of his life.

Thanks to the tigers hearing, Atsushi heard everything. Every scream, every cry, every laugh.

He felt sick.

It was a nightmare that went on and on and on. He hid with the corpses and was lucky none of the toys inspected the pile.

The alarms were blaring.

Speakers yelling instructions but none of it mattered. The anger was practically tangible.

Atsushi only crawled out when Dogday saw him, arms up showing he wasn't going to harm him. Atsushi sobbed into his arms and his friend held him close.

There wasn't any food left.

Atsushi didn't complain when Dogday handed him the remains. They both ate in silence, pretending it was something else and not those they knew.

No one else was left.

The toys were never the same again.

Mommy Long Legs would never smile at him. Huggy Wuggy would never give him a warm hug.

They were something else now.

It hurt to see. But Atsushi supposed the Headmaster was right, everyone turned on him eventually.

And yet Dogday never did. Atsushi didn't ask about the smiling critters, he already knew it wasn't good.

The day Atsushi escaped was the day Catnap found them. Dogday picked up Atsushi and ran like he'd never ran before.

Dogday placed Atsushi on the cable car out of Playcare and told him to run and never look back. The door slammed shut behind him before Atsushi could figure out what was going on.

Somehow he escaped to the surface. He walked and he walked as the tiger guided him. Until he saw a man in the river.

Which brings him to now.

Sat with everyone else in the Agency in the Presidents office. A cup of tea Naomi put infront of him that he hasn't touched.

"Atsushi, you said you had a place you wanted us to investigate?" Asks Dazai, sitting at his right with an encouraging smile on his face.

He could tell Atsushi was nervous, everyone could.

"I mean we don't have too. I just... I just got a letter 2 days ago on my desk. And it's from the place I grew up." That got everyone's attention.

They all had heard bits and pieces of Atsushi's past. None of it was particularly comforting. And they couldn't pretend that they weren't curious.

"From the Orphanage?" Asks Dazai, wanting to be sure. "Yes and no, see it wasn't just an orphanage." Says Atsushi, he looks down. "I... I haven't been completely honest with you guys."

Dazai ruffles his hair.

"We're not mad, we've all got skeletons in our closet. Can we see the letter?" Atsushi nods, taking it out of his pocket and handing it to Ranpo.

Since he was making grabby hands at him. And wasn't that something, Ranpo was interested in this case.

Dazai pouts and bounces over to look over Ranpo's shoulder.

Both of them frown at the sight of it. Dazai looks at Atsushi who nods, letting him read it out loud.

"Everyone thinks the factory's empty. That all the staff have dissappeared. We're still here, little tiger. Find the flower."

It was written in red and orange crayon with a poppy flower drawn on. If it wasn't suspicious already the doodle of a bleeding pawprint definitely didn't help.

Atsushi tries not to think about what that meant.

"It shouldn't be possible... There's no one left, no one who could've written it at least." He says, he doesn't notice he's shaking until Kyouka holds her hand.

"I'm just glad you didn't decide pull a Dazai and run off on your own without telling anyone." Says Kunikida, Dazai gasps in mock offence holding a hand to his chest. "Kunikida! You wound me!"

Atsushi ducks his head sheepishly. "I mean he's not wrong, Dazai." Dazai sighs, dramatically wiping a nonexistent tear. Before lighting up and smiling "yeah I'm glad you told us because this feels like a trap."

Atsushi nods.

"It does which is why I don't think we should go. I know what's behind those doors. I know what they're capable of, what they'll do."

He takes a deep breath "but if there's anyone left and they're asking for my help, I can't just leave them again."

Atsushi thinks of Kissy waving him when no one else was looking. Poppy telling him stories and Dogday holding him when the red smoke made him cry.

"Not again. It... It makes you think you're going insane. Like every part of you is burning and you don't know why. You're not supposed to leave. If anyone's left, they won't be the same."

He definitely wasn't.

He doesn't notice he's crying until Kyouka pulls him into a hug. "It's not your fault" she says, firmly.

He shakes his head.

"It's not your fault. Your friends won't blame you." Says Ranpo, somehow always knowing more. Atsushi looks at him, wiping his tears.

"I for one am glad you got out. And I'm sure they are too. You know what this place is capable of, but you also know what we're capable off." Says Ranpo, putting the letter down.

"I can't promise things won't go wrong. I can't tell you what will happen behind those doors. But if you want to go investigate, you have the entire Agency standing behind you."

Atsushi knows without even looking at them that everyone is in agreement.

He feels lighter.

"Than I will go. But I should probably explain all of this." Says Atsushi, untangling himself from Kyouka's arms but holding her hand.

"This is going to sound crazy."

Dazai laughs "oh Atsushi, don't you know? Crazy is our middle name." Atsushi snorts, smiling sadly.

"This might be crazy even for us." He takes a deep breath. "It all began with a man named Elliot Ludwig."

[tomtenadia]

Detours to You - 20

Hello all,

Here I am with another chapter. This is a bit angsty but I swear it's the only one. There is a big disaster that I hope it make sense. Since I finished ALB I am not used anymore to write these epic scenes with big disasters. So yeah, I hope it makes sense.

Enjoy.

MASTERLIST

Rowan jumped in the car and started driving to the destination, sirens and blue lights blazing.

He heard the address over the radio and his heart sank. It was a factory fire. A place that he had been inspecting on a regular basis recently because on his first visit he had spotted so many health and safety infractions that it was a miracle the place was still open. He had pushed for changes and improvements but there had been so many red tapes from the big bosses that it was frustrating. All his connections had not been enough to help prevent what he had labelled in his reports as a disaster waiting to happen. And now, while rushing to that site he had a feeling that the worst case scenario had happened and that once again money and politics had placed the lives of his firefighters in danger.

Instead of spending time with his girls, Rowan was driving towards a five alarm fire.

*

 As the address grew closer, black plumes began to appear at the horizon and his heart sank. His mind started making possible plans. The smoke was very dark which meant a volatile fire. He pressed on the gas and pushed to the extreme the privileges that the sirens gave him in an emergency.

The location in question was a textile factory where the tanks containing highly flammable liquids were kept at the right storing temperature by a generator. In all his inspections Rowan had noticed signs of old age in the tanks and the generator had three system failures in a short time span. Rowan just tried to guess which one had failed.

He arrived at the site and quickly wore his bunker gear and walked to Lorcan who was acting as Incident Commander for a report.

“Chief.

“Lor, what is the situation?”

The dark-haired captain looked at the fire in front of him “we are evacuating the workers. The generator is failing and one of the tanks with treating chemicals has a leak that started a fire in a section with stored acrylic clothes. They caught fire and as you can imagine it spread quickly. We are working on containing it.”

Rowan looked at the inferno in front of him and rage surged in him.

“Triage is ready, mass casualty plan has been activated and we have four stations on duty.” Lorcan added to finish his report.

Rowan nodded “That is perfect, Lorcan. I take it from here, now.”

Lorcan nodded and ran to grab his gear and joined his team inside.

He took over the scene and started directing the rescue and gathered more information every time more firefighters came out. There were still workers trapped near the centre of the plant, the core that was likely minutes away from breaking down. If the generator failed, the tank would stop working properly and from there the whole site would just blow up.

“Chief to all units, what is the situation near the generator?”

Static was his answer.

“Chief to captain Salvaterre, do we have the fire contained near the generator?”

“One of the storage tanks is leaking heavily, we will need hazmat.”

“Copy that, asking dispatch now.”

“Chief,” Ilias voice came through the radio “We have found a group of four workers, taking them out now.”

“Copy that Ilias, paramedics are ready.”

Not long after he saw two firefighters take out a group of wounded workers. The paramedics ran to them and carried the victims to triage to be assessed. 

Lorcan ran out of the building with a firefighter that had to be rescued after he got separated from his buddy.

“Lor, what happened?”

The man ripped his mask from his face and took a deep breath of air “It’s impossible to get to the centre. We can’t get any deeper. The smoke is very thick and dark.”

“Hazmat is on another call.”

Lorcan swore.

Rowan looked up and watched the smoke change “Lor, you take back command, I am going in.”

“Fuck no, Rowan.”

Rowan started to wear his SCBA “I have visited this factory more times in the past few months than any other industrial site. I know where everything is and I know how to get safely to the generator and where the failsafe panel is.”

“Rowan, that place is a time bomb.”

“I am aware, but there are four of my men inside and probably more workers. I am not going to another firefighter’s funeral, Lorcan.”

Rowan finished getting ready and ran inside “Keep the water going Lorcan, and tell hazmat to get their arses here ASAP.”

Lorcan shouted orders to the four teams “Let’s attack this fire and kill it,” he ordered another team inside to attack the centre of the factory and keep the generator cool to allow Rowan some time.

*

Rowan made his way inside the building and all he saw was thick smoke, but with the help of some burnt landmarks he found his way around. Progress was slow and time was a luxury he did not have. The fire around him was still raging and he only had his memory to guide him through the inferno. Deeper in the venue he heard a PASS alarm and his heart sank. One of his men was down and he rushed towards the sound.

“Chief, Lorcan, I have a firefighter down on the south east quadrant near the central room.”

“Copy that, Chief I am sending in rescue.”

Rowan waited for the two firefighters and then continued on his mission. He was so close but the smoke started changing badly and he knew that he was close to the epicentre. What made things worse was the very distinctive smell of electrical fire “Lor, keep water away from the centre of the structure. Electrical fire.”

He did not wait for his friend’s reply and with his axe he just smashed his way through the door and found four of his men and then two workers on the floor. The PASS alarms haunting his dreams. He grabbed the two workers and dragged them outside in a safe location, alerted Lorcan and then he stormed back inside and took out two of his men at a time. They had a pulse, faint but they were okay. He kept dragging the people as far as possible until he was exhausted. Rowan radioed his teams to rescue a few more people and then got ready for the last mission. 

The generator had a failsafe switch that he hoped was still working and not being destroyed by the fire. He knew he had minutes to stop the plant from blowing up and flatten the building. He stood, gathering all the strength he had left, looked at the oxygen meter on his wrist and realised he had less than ten minutes of air left. It was enough, he kept telling himself. Enough to do his job and hopefully make it out alive. He wanted to get back to Maya and finish celebrating her birthday. He wanted to have a moment alone with Aelin and finally tell her that he was in love with her. That he was tired of pushing his feelings aside and overthink it. She was the love of his life and if he made it out alive he was going to tell her.

With a mighty roar he burst inside the plant room and crawled to the bottom where the smoke and the toxic air was less thick. The air was thick with electricity and one of the panel was clearly shorted. Slowly he elbowed his way to the centre and found the core computer that was barely working. Blindly he found his way to where he knew the failsafe panel was. Or was meant to be. He froze when he realised that it was not there anymore. The computer that would allow him to safely shut down all the tanks was gone. 

“Lorcan, Chief,” he coughed “Mission has failed. Push back, the building is lost.”

Slowly he made his way back, his oxygen was starting to run low and Rowan went through all of his old training routines to keep oxygen consumption low. 

He was dragging his sorry arse out of that hellish place when he saw all the signs. He tried to run, his body screaming for oxygen, his legs failing him. And when he noticed the fire pattern change he threw himself on the ground as a series of flashovers spread through the building.

Aelin and Maya’s laughter the last images in his mind before the darkness engulfed him. 

*

Lorcan hated that he was outside. Rowan should be there and he should be inside, that was his job. But Rowan knew the place inside out. He had been conducting regular inspection and Lorcan knew that place was a ticking bomb, Rowan had told him the fights he had been having to change things but it looked that no one listened to him.

Pushing aside his rage he listened to the teams for what was happening. More workers kept being found alive and he counted that as a success. Rowan’s voice came through the radio alerting him that he had found the firefighter that had gone missing after he lost track of his partner. 

“Come on, Rowan…” 

The fire started to change and Lorcan called for more water to be pumped on the building, the water cannons moving to concentrate on where the tanks were. 

Hazmat was still busy and he needed the team there immediately. He called dispatch for another update and he got the same answer. Time was ticking and he was growing worried. Surely Rowan’s oxygen was about to run out soon. Why the fuck he was not out yet?

The radio became alive once more and Rowan’s voice came through alerting him that he had more survivors. He sent Fenrys, Brullo and two more firefighters in to recover the people Rowan had saved.

Long minutes passed and silence stretched. He called Rowan but no answer came through.

“Lor, it has been too long. We need to get in to get Rowan.” Fenrys walked to him and shouted “He is inside that inferno on his own. That’s not how we do things.”

“Rowan, come through.”

More silence.

And then his strained voice finally reached him “Lorcan, Chief,” he coughed “Mission has failed. Push back, the building is lost.”

Lorcan’s heart sank at the words.

“Push back everyone. Move the perimeter back.” His voice thick with panic for his friend.

His men got into action and started to retreat to safety and then the explosion hit. Lorcan waited for the flashovers to die down and then grabbed his gear “Ilias, you have command, I need to save the Chief.” He shouted like a desperate man.

“Fen, Brullo and Ansel, with me.”

The three firefighters exchanged their bottles and grabbed a jump bag and a stretcher from the paramedics.

From the outside, Ilias restarted the water attack to allow them further progress inside.

Lorcan had an idea of where to go because had listened to Rowan when had talked abut the building but had never been inside. He followed his instincts and walked towards the centre of the structure until in the distance he heard the unmistakable sound of the PASS alarm. One of the sounds he hated the most, especially when it meant his best friend was in peril.

“Rowan,” screamed Fenrys at spotting Rowan’s body on the floor.

“Slowly, Fen.”

The young man walked quickly among the debris, pushing aside beams and part of structures “Fen, be careful.”

He did not listen and Brullo and Lorcan followed with Ansel in tow. When they finally arrived Rowan’s body was sprawled on the ground “Ilias, we got the Chief, we are assessing him just now.”

“Copy, I have paramedics on standby.”

Ansel crouched to his side, removed his broken mask and started assessing him “he is breathing but it’s very shallow.” The woman placed an oxygen mask on his face to help him breath better. The mask was cracked and he likely had inhaled toxic fumes. She checked his sats and she had her answers when the number turned out to be too low.

Brullo opened the jump bag. All firefighters had some sort of first aid training, but Brullo and Ansel were also certified paramedics so Lorcan let them work.

Fenrys helped them remove his bunker jacket and that’s when he saw a piece of metal sticking out of his left flank. 

“Don’t pull it,” said Brullo “The spike just now it’s preventing him to bleed to death.”

Lorcan helped remove some of the debris covering his body “Possible fractures in the lower body,”

Ansel inspected his side and saw some burnt marks along his right arms down his chest “Second degree burn on his right side.”

“Is he stable enough for transport?” Asked Lorcan.

Ansel passed the stretch-board they had carried and with Brullo’s help they slid it under Rowan’s back.

“Yes, we are good to go. Alert the paramedics we have him and we are coming out. We need immediate transport to the hospital.”

Once outside, Lorcan stared at his team carry Rowan to the paramedics, watched them gave him initial treatment and then load him on the ambulance and disappear at the horizon.

He took command back from Ilias and guided the team until the fire was extinguished. Hazmat eventually arrived and took over the scene and Lorcan sent his teams inside for overhaul.

The sun had started to set once the scene was clear. Lorcan ordered engine back to quarters but he took the truck to a side mission.

The vehicle slithered through the traffic of Orynth and he prepared how he could tell Aelin about what happened. It was Maya’s birthday and he was about to destroy that day.

*

Aelin, Lys, Aedion, Elide and her parents had remained at the bookshop to continue the celebrations. Maya was sitting on her plastic table with her uncle and grampa and they were all reading some stories.

Aelin was about to start cleaning up when she saw a big fire truck park in front of the shop.

Her book tumbled off her hands when Lorcan stepped in, blackened by smoke and a dark stare.

Aelin’s hand shook and she felt sick.

Elide stepped at her side and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Aelin,” he paused “I need you to come to the hospital with me.”

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[tuliptiger]

Hello again! House/life update.

I am in a much better place mentally but really rather the same financially. I am currently laid off for a month seasonally since I'm still not a permanent employee. I have something in the works I'm hoping plays out so that I have a permanent position and worst case scenario I go back to work May 6th as a temp for 6 more months. I have side jobs and unemployment lined up in the mean time.

Anyway though! On to the house. Disappointing news but honest news in terms of the first contractor we hired. We still haven't gotten money back from him.

Recap: my mom and I fired him because he lied to us, charged tools on our account we up front said not to do, built a shoddy excuse of a foundation and frame for my house that we eventually had to pay our current contractor to demolish because it was so bad. It was for all definitions a different house the original contractor built. He used the wrong framing type for the blueprint and didn't even use framing nails to the city code. He wasn't even on site for 90% of the build and seemingly subcontracted it out which we didn't know.

In addition my mom is...not the best person to work with and makes a lot of mistakes. She's not a critical thinker on a lot of things. I made the mistake of asking her to help me buy land and build a house in the pursuit of escaping my generational poverty. I made the second mistake of asking her to take on individual responsibilities and not step in when the red flags started coming up.

I left her in charge of getting the money back from the OG contractor since she had all contact with him and she was originally the one who found him. That went as well as anyone could guess and she's, in summary, procrastinated doing any proper paperwork for attorneys or the contract board. I keep pushing her and she always says she'll get to it this day or that day or hits a dead end and then it goes nowhere.

This would not be a big issue but we're talking more than $20,000 he did in damages and $1,000 he directly stole from us like straight up $1,000 we handed him to do work he never did. The donations everyone has been sending in slowly are very much appreciated and remind me to keep fighting for this.

At this point I just want to get the house done so I can be done with the contractors and done with my mother. I don't want to be in this situation anymore and it's been dragged out for 3 years now. I've added pictures of where the house is at now and most of it having been done in January and February.

As the electric was finished and passed inspection I'm waiting in the HVAC and plumbing as the last things professionals must do before I can finish the house. I've started putting in flooring and the wood stove was just delivered so things are still moving.

The donations haven't covered anything large from the build but it has covered smaller things (I've used it for nails, locks for the doors, etc.) and given me strength to continue. Motivation from strangers, acquaintances and friends to not just walk away and to keep my head in the right space. I've emotionally and mentally been in a better place since I initially made the gofundme which has helped.

Anyway I've been meaning to make this for awhile and I'm sorry for the delay. I've been working my full time job before I was laid off, my side gigs, working on the house, still living out of my car and trying to work with my mother. I appreciate everyone who's been invested in this, shared it and donated. More updates will come in the future and thank you all again.

[liz-allyn]

heat of the moment, pt 6 - carpe diem (finale) [tasm!peter x reader x groundhog day au]

summary: everything ends, eventually.  angst; fluff; humor; final destination vibes; and yes this is in tribute to my favorite episode of television ever written - “mystery spot”

words: 11.6k

warnings: death. a lot of it. repeatedly. in this chapter: tw description of death by car accident, fire, drowning, asphyxiation, self h*rm, mass casualty event.

a/n - don't you hate it when stories just dump a ton of exposition in the last chapter? haha fuck

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6.

The sun had long set as you crouched down stealthily on a roof overlooking an industrial complex next to the Holland Tunnel. It was near the entrance on the New York side of the Hudson River, far from the dumpster you sought out. 

After leaving Claire, you had met Peter across town and inspected the burned-out site tediously. There wasn’t much left behind, save for a few singed sheets of paper nearby. Shipping invoices for an address on the other side of Manhattan. 

Alarms went off in your head at the perplexity of someone dumping their trash all the way over here. You were determined to follow this lead, and quickly. 

Working against time, you were now in pursuit. You gazed out over the street below as you studied the tall, rectangular, art deco-style, brick structure. The exteriors looked repainted and somewhat modernized, part of ongoing renovations to the Holland Tunnel, you figured. Now at the heart of the tallest building, a 50-foot-wide clock face doubled the size of ‘Big Ben,’ with golden dials that added to the aesthetic.

The clock face leered maliciously at you, like a hungry dragon perched on a tower. Like the hands would come alive, and spring out sharp teeth that gobbled you up.

What a way to go.

The face stares down at you, knowingly, like a proverbial ‘Eye of Sauron,’ meeting you at the edge of Mordor. The minute hand lurches past 10:50 to 10:51, reminding you of its quicksilver nature.

You’d never made it past 10:30 PM before. 

You’re deep behind enemy lines. 

Wearing the Spider suit, Peter swung to your position, his feet landing on the roof as gently as a cat’s. He crouched down to your level, lifting his mask from his sweaty face.

“Okay, so something is definitely off with that building,” Peter whispered. “It’s using a ton of power. Way more than any New York City building should.” He noted your distant look and silence, hypnotized by the ominous feeling the clock gave you. He eyed you suspiciously, “Exactly what are we looking for here?”

You pursed your lips, observing the slow crawl of vehicle traffic clogging itself into the tunnel. You could see the lights of a construction crew near the tunnel entrance. You smelled the heavy fumes of semi trucks trickling in between passenger vehicles. You felt the wind chilling the back of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Something bad,” you replied grimly.

Peter stared at you incredulously, brow furrowed, waiting for further explanation. The humor was beginning to evaporate from his mood, a heavy tension settling in between you. No further explanation followed.

“Okay,” he declared, more firmly now. “We’re done here.”

That caught your attention. He reached for you and you flinched back. “No, wait, we can’t leave!”

“Honestly, this has gone on far enough,” Peter replied with a serious tone, his mocha eyes filled with concern. “You start talking about time loops at breakfast and then you throw muffins at me and ghost me for hours, you won’t answer any of my questions, you can’t just lay shit out like that and not explain yourself—”

“We have to get inside that building.”

“Why?!” he snapped, temper flaring. You knew his frustration was branching from his anxiety, and you had to find a way to diffuse it.

“Something inside that building is affecting your abilities!” you whispered harshly. You were also losing control. “Why don’t you want to find out what it is?”

A deep crease formed in his brow, stubbornness feeding indignation. “Tell me why. Why can’t we just go home right now? Tell me the truth!”

You pulled your eyes away, dropping them to the ground. “We can’t go home, Peter,” you firmly stated, and it sounds like you’re admonishing a child.

“Tell me why right now, or I throw you over my shoulder—”

“Because I never make it back home alive!” you blurted out.

He blinks at you. Eyes narrow. Observes you. Brow furrows. Head tilts. Pupils go wide. Face pales. Heart rate increases. 

“What do yo—” the words trickle off, shrinking away as they leave his mouth. With them, they take the air from his lungs. His shoulders tense. “What does that— what are you talkin’ about? What’re you sayin’?” On reflex, he grasps at your arms. His face searches yours, betrayed.

You reach out for him, gripping his shoulders. It begins to ground him, but doesn’t release the building pressure. You steady yourself. Meet him in his own time.

“Peter, listen,” you softly cooed, “it’s okay. Everything is going to be okay.” 

He exhaled a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding. His eyes looked like he was torn between the urge to argue, and the need to hold you. 

He swallowed hard, his fingers finding yours, gripping your hands like he used to hold his stuffed animals. “I don’t under—”

“What I’m about to say is going to freak you out, but we need to be on the same page about this,” you slowly explained. “Every day for the last... I don’t know how many... several-thousand Tuesdays... I wake up. And it’s Tuesday. And then, somehow, it ends with me dying. And then I wake up—and it’s Tuesday again.”

He stares. Eyes glazing black.

“Stay with me, Pete,” you pleaded, your hands cupping his cheeks. “I think whatever is causing this to happen is connected to something in that building.”

“No,” Peter said. Darkness enveloped his voice. “You’re not gonna die. Don’t say that.” He shook his head. An unsettling firmness crept into his tone.

“I have this feeling,” you explained, “that it’s all connected. The time loop. Your abilities not working right. The dying—”

“You’re not gonna die,” he asserted, with even more resolve.

You pursed your lips, falling silent. For a moment, you let yourself drown in the dark pools of his gaze. They’re like thick, dark storm clouds. Heavy blackness crackling with bolts of lightning. You read his face carefully, choosing your words delicately.

“I believe you,” you answered, finally. It was the truth. He studied your reaction too, and tension released from his shoulders slightly. “But we have to get into that building.”

He nodded once, swallowing back his anxiety, then took you by the shoulders. “But you’re not going in there. You’re staying put.”

You rolled your eyes. “Peter, we don’t have time for this!”

He shook his head, jaw firmly set. “I’m not doing this again.” He wasn't talking about last Tuesday.

“I am not Gwen,” your voice bellowed.

He went silent at her name, still dumbstruck by shame and grief. It was like you slapped him. He dropped his eyes to his feet, sorrow building steadily.

You softened your expression and your tone. “You aren’t the ‘you’ from then, either.”

The sharp, smooth line of his jaw quivered for just a moment, and you brushed your fingers along the freckles there. His lashes fluttered closed at the gesture. 

“I know that you’re afraid of what you’ll lose,” you whispered, featherlike. Like telling a secret. “I know you think it’ll break you. But I’ve seen the best and the worst of you, Peter Parker.” 

He looked up at you, and the utter endearment on your face was enough to take his breath away. It brought tears to his eyes. 

“I believe in you,” you stated. As certain as the sky is blue. “Every day. Forever. Even if you don’t believe in yourself. So please. Believe in me.”

Peter grimaced, fear piercing his chest. He pushed it down. He nodded. “Always.”

You held his gaze lovingly. Despite your predicament, you strangely wished you could freeze the moment.

“Okay,” you smirked, eyes bright. “Let’s do this. Remember, there’s no fate but what we make, right?”

You moved to stand, but he reached out and grabbed you. “Wait.” You glanced back at him, catching the puzzled look on his face. “When did you see Terminator?”

You quirked a brow, teasingly mysterious in your reply. “I’m a sci-fi nerd, now. What about it?”

11:14 PM

After careful effort, and more minutes than you wanted to lose, you made it inside to find your suspicions were correct. 

You were standing inside of a control room next to two knocked out, webbed-up security guards. You closely studied a vast array of CCTV monitors above you. Your boyfriend was hunched over a screen, listening intently to the conversations of plant workers—some of which he’d recognized as former science division employees of Oscorp. You recognized some of them too, from Alchemax. And Horizon Labs. And Roxxon.

“Okay,” you asked, glancing warily at the time. “Do we have any idea why these guys are all in this building? Was there a mad scientist convention or something?”

“Is it weird that I’m low-key, kinda offended that I didn’t even get an invite?” Peter grumbled, shaking his masked head bitterly. “Am I weird for thinking that? Is that bad?”

You gave him an incredulous glare. “I’m sure it’s in your spam folder.”

“It’s fine,” Peter flatly declared. It wasn’t fine. 

He uncrossed his arms to lean his weight on his palms, staring at one of the screens intently. “Here,” he noted, calling your attention to a computer screen visible on the security camera. “These are plans. They’re building something. We need to find out what.”

11:22 PM

Deeper inside the facility, you hid behind the door of a windowless office. Your palms were clammy, and sweat poured out of you. It wasn’t just the tension. It was the heat. A massive source of energy, Peter had explained, from some part of the building.

A bespectacled, bird-like, middle-aged man wearing a lab coat entered the office. You slammed the door behind him. Startled, he turned around and spotted you, a mix of confusion and growing alarm. He opened his mouth to yell just as two red gloves reached down around his head and clamped his jaw shut. 

You looked up at Spider-Man, dropping from his hiding place on the ceiling, as he muffled the screams of the captive. The scientist flailed uselessly in Peter’s arms, overcome with panic. You shuddered as you noted Spider-Man’s grip was little a rougher than normal.

“Spidey,” you soft admonished. He looked up at you and spotted the timid anxiety in your eyes. He took the hint.

Peter turned the captive scientist around and sat him down in his own desk chair. With a couple of webs he was bound to the fake leather padding. 

The man gaped up through wire-rimmed glasses at Spider-Man’s towering frame, his eyes wide with terror. Without being prompted, you reached into the pockets of the lab coat, snatching his ID badge off its lanyard. You pocketed several keys, metal and magnetic. You flipped through his wallet for clues.

Spider-Man kicked his leg up on the seat of the captive’s chair, leaning on his own thigh crassly. “Hey, buddy!” the vigilante greeted with a bright, cheery smile as you searched him. 

You glanced at the name on the scientist’s ID badge. “Joseph,” you supplied.

“Hey, Joe!” Spider-Man corrected. Despite the chipper tone, the muscles in his neck were pulled taught. He looked like a dog about to snap. “Whatcha buildin’ under here?”

Your boyfriend released the scientist’s mouth. His wild eyes darted anxiously between the two of you. ‘Joe’ attempted to calm himself down, stuttering as he sought out what’s left of his courage.

“Do you have any idea where you are?” he spat ferociously. “You two are screwed! You’re not getting outta here. You’re in way over your heads! I’m not telling you anything! You can’t make me talk—”

A web slapped over Joe’s mouth, gagging him. You shot your boyfriend an impatient glare. “We don’t have time for this,” you warned him.

Spider-Man kept his attention on his captive, shrugging his shoulders. “You heard the lady,” he said, almost apologetically. Peter dropped his foot from the chair and sidled up to the man, gripping his hair and yanking his head back. You flinched as you watched him brandish a blade and swipe at the webbing across the man’s mouth with cobra-like quickness. He sliced an opening in the gag, allowing his captive to breathe.

“Since we’re a little short on time, we’re gonna cut to the chase, yeah?” he explained, his pleasant-sounding demeanor coming short of masking the malice in his tone. “I’m Spider-Man. You’re a bad guy. And you caught me on a really weird day. So instead of hanging you by your ankles off the edge of a high-rise, or tossing you off the Statue of Liberty, or webbing you up over Fifth Avenue in nothin’ but your tighty-whities, I’m gonna fast-forward.” 

The vigilante tilted his head down until he was directly in front of Joe’s face, lowering his voice to a serpent’s hiss. “You’re going to tell me what you’re building here, or I’ll end you. Simple as that.”

You flicked your eyes to Spider-Man, shifting your weight between your feet. You squeezed your eyes closed, pushing images of Peter’s rage from your anxious thoughts. 

“Keep in mind, I can hear your heart beat,” your boyfriend sneered, looming over his captive. “I can tell what it sounds like if you’re lying. I can hear my own heart, too. Wanna know what it sounds like right now?”  

The scientist stared back blankly as beads of sweat trickled down his forehead, eyes as wide as saucers. 

Spider-Man tilted his head, lowering the opaque lenses of his mask closer. “Murder.”

The single word hung in the air like the toll of a bell, or the echoing crack of thunder. Thick black toxic smoke that threatened to choke them. Your stomach twisted, recognizing that his teasing savagery was more than simple posturing. You’d seen him like this before. You had experience in keeping an eye on the pressure gauge.

You glanced at the clock on Joe’s desk. 

11:24 PM

“Please,” you blurted out, unsure to whom you were speaking. Maybe to anyone who would listen.

“Here it is,” Spider-Man declared. “The one and only time I’m gonna ask. What supervillain’s new gadget are you building here?”

The quivering man stared at him, dumbstruck, slowly turning so white he’d eventually camouflage into the walls. “You-you got this all wrong...” he stuttered.

“How so?” Spider-Man didn’t miss a beat. “Details, Joe.”

“...Claire?”

Your surprised tone snapped both men's attention back to you. You stood at the scientist’s desk, eyes fixed on a photo frame. You picked it up, gazing down at the faces in shock.

Joe’s demeanor changed instantly. Any sense of bravado he had evaporated. “That’s my daughter’s name,” he gulped, pulse thumping in his throat. “How-how do you know my daughter’s name?”

You stared down at the photo of your beautiful Grim Reaper, flanked by a woman you had come to recognize as her mother and the man currently webbed to a chair. The photo was taken on a bright sunny day, Yankee Stadium in the background. Claire looked much younger than she did now, as did both of her parents. Not just younger—brighter. More hopeful. More alive. 

Your mouth hung open as you glanced up at the captive. “Joseph Rivers? You’re Claire’s father?”

Dr. Rivers looked up at Spider-Man, his face going pale. “Please,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “She doesn’t ha-have anything to-to do with this mess. Leave her out of this. I beg you.”

Peter met your eyes, and although you couldn’t see his face, you knew he was confused. You didn’t tell him about Claire today, or any of the times she’d tried to kill herself.

Your gaze dropped down to Dr. Rivers. “Do you have any idea what your daughter’s been doing today?”

He looked perplexed. “I... I—” 

“Do you know she tried to commit suicide?” you snapped, marching up to his chair. He flinched at the information, a lightning bolt shooting to his heart. You crossed your arms, glaring down at him indignantly. “And where were you?” 

You know it’s judgmental. You know it’s unfair. But this was Claire. And Tuesday had given you enough insight into her life to feel like defensive, after everything.

“I—” Rivers was still opening and closing his mouth like a fish. “I don’t... They don’t let us have our phones—I mean, I-I knew she had troubles before...” His throat tightened, chest constricting, “Is-is she okay?” He looked heartbroken. Terrified. You saw Peter’s shoulders slump, head turning away.

You watched Rivers through narrowed lids, but you couldn’t deny the agony in his question. The fear in his face. “For now,” you answered. “Because I saved her. But she needs real help.” You leveled your gaze. “And so do we, Mr. Rivers.”

Rivers looked back up at Spider-Man, still observing the side of his mask. The masked vigilante was unable to meet his gaze. He looked over at you again, reading your resolve. His eyes dropped to the photo frame in your hands, his chin clenching. Eyes also filled with shame.

“It’s a weapon,” Rivers declared. “They tell us it’s not, but I’m not stupid. We all know what it is.”

“What kind of weapon?” Peter asked, facing him again.

“You ever heard of Havana Sickness?” Rivers asked him. “Well, that was version one.” 

Your eyes ping-ponged between the two scientists. “Can somebody translate?”

Peter explained, his gaze fixed on Rivers, as he provided you context. “Few years ago a group of diplomats started getting sick in Havana. Nausea, dizziness, ringing in the ears—all the way up to sudden, unexplained pain and trouble with cognition. Nobody ever found out what caused it. Some people think it was all in their heads, others think it was some kind of staged attack.”

“A directed energy weapon,” Rivers revealed, his voice grave. “And now it’s been perfected. This one is far more advanced than anything that’s ever been built. Electromagnetic waves charged by plasma. Its power is unprecedented.”

“Sounds rad,” Peter snipped flatly. “Probably worth a pretty penny to the highest bidder. Speaking of which. Whose bankrolling this, Joey? Is it Fisk? Is it the Osbournes?”

Rivers let out a bitter laugh. “You’re joking, right?” He stared at you incredulously. “You think you’re dealing with some greasy, mob boss? Some corporate shenanigans?” 

You and Peter glanced at each other. 

“Look around you, kids!” Rivers spat. “We’re in a secret underground base underneath the Hudson River, for godssake. This whole operation is run by Uncle Sam. It’s the fucking C.I.A., you dimwits.”

You stared at him, stunned and silent. 

Peter threw his arms in the air in exasperation. “I don’t believe it! Seriously?” He spun in a circle, hands landing on his head, then faced Rivers again, jabbing his finger in his face.

“Okay. Number one. Rude," he said, clipped. Just because I wasn’t invited to your little World of Warcraft campaign doesn’t make me an idiot, got that?” Your shot a withering look at the back of your boyfriend’s head.

“Second:” he continued, with a disgusted tone. “Billions of dollars and almost all of the greatest minds in the world and the G-Men are using this—for what—a new toy? What, did Santa not bring you guys enough guns for Christmas?!”

Rivers argued, “Technology like this would make nuclear war obsolete! It could stop any intercontinental ballistic missile—safely—miles above the Earth’s atmosphere.”

“Could also burst the eardrums of some unruly protestors,” Peter criticized with disdain. He crossed his arms, glaring down at the scientist suspiciously. “Destabilize a few unfriendly governments?”

“Burn the tiny hairs off a spider?” You asked, finally interrupting the quarrelling men. Rivers and Peter gave you a look.

You sighed, “This is exciting and all, but I can’t reiterate how much time for this shit I don’t have!” You glared at Rivers impatiently. “Congratulations, Doc. The weapon you’re building also tears a hole in the space-time continuum. Well done. Now would you please just tell us where it is, so we can pull the plug?”

The older man glanced back and forth between you. “You… can’t…?”

“It was a figure of speech, man,” Peter snapped at him. “She doesn’t actually think there’s a power cord—”

“No, what I mean is it’s already been built,” Dr. Rivers explained. “You’re too late. It’s on a truck leaving now.”

11:41 PM

This is the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. You’re certain of it. 

And it may very well be the last thing you ever do. 

You watch helplessly as the box truck carrying the Weapon of the Future is driven into the tunnel. Your boyfriend (who left you behind to stay put) is attached to the top of it, in an attempt to steal it. 

You think on that again. 

Your boyfriend, Spider-Man, is going to steal one of the most advanced weapons the world has ever known, from the C.I.A.

This is only the second stupidest thing he’s ever done. The top spot was recently awarded when he webbed you to Rivers’ desk and left you behind. For your safety. 

As if you didn’t have your own pocket knife on you, to free yourself from the webbing.

You had run outside just to see the unmarked white truck entering the tunnel. There was no way of catching up to it on foot.

So. Here you are, contemplating the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. 

You see a stationary police cruiser, brake lights on, engine running. Waiting in line to enter the tunnel. You recognize the single occupant in the front seat. 

“Y’know, Cage,” you declare as you saunter up to the open drivers’ side window, “you really gotta stop working doubles.” The rookie officer flinched at the sound of your voice, turning towards you in utter confusion. “Just because your wife threw you out doesn’t mean you don’t need sleep.”

He gazed at you, jaw falling open, white as a ghost. 

You reached forward and gripped the back of his head, slamming his nose into his own steering wheel. 

He hissed in pain as you opened the drivers’ side door and reached down towards his belt. You unclipped his service arm pistol, pointing it at him. Like you’d done it 1,000 times before. 

Officer Cage froze in horror, staring up at the barrel of his own gun, stunned at your speed and dexterity. Doing that never failed to give you a rush. 

“Out,” you ordered.

Hands raised, he pulled himself out of his seat and stood awkwardly next to his car. You hopped in the drivers’ seat and flipped the switch to turn on the emergency lights. 

Like you’d done it 1,000 times before. 

Perplexed, Officer Cage watched you incredulously, as you leaned out of the window and tossed his weapon back at him. 

The second it landed in his hands, he’d accidentally pulled the trigger. But no bullet was fired.

“I emptied it,” you explained. 

He looked at you like you were a witch. 

“Maybe spend some more time on the range first?” you offered gently, shifting the car into gear. “And maybe in some therapy, too?” You stepped on the gas pedal, leaving him in the dust. 

You swerved, driving around the heavy congestion of vehicles, entering the tunnel. Sirens wailing.

11:43 PM

Peter held on tightly to the roof of the cargo hold as the truck drove around the traffic, allowed by the tunnel construction crew to pass. He honestly started to wonder if the tunnel was really under construction at all, or if it was all some elaborate hoax.

Maybe you were right, he thought. Maybe everything is connected and therefore nothing is nothing and we’re all pawns living in some sort of simulated plan.

“God, I really need to touch some grass,” he groaned through gritted teeth, as he ducked his head beneath the overhanging signs of the tunnel. 

11:44 PM

You saw the truck ahead of you. You toggled the police car’s sirens, switching it to a piercer effect. 

The short bursting yelps must have caught the driver’s attention, because you saw brake lights flash. Then, they turned off as the truck sped up. Your stomach sank.

“No, no...” 

You could see the lanky limbs of your boyfriend flail as he struggled to get a better grip on the roof of the vehicle. You sighed, biting your lip with trepidation. The device wasn’t even on and already he was becoming less sticky. The truck dashed on, weaving around vehicles, disappearing from sight. You stepped on the gas and tried to catch up.

What you could not see, what Peter could not see, and—tragically— what the truck driver could not see, was the debris in the road. 

A six-inch steel ratchet that had fallen off of one of the construction trucks.

For any speeding vehicle, running over it would’ve resulted in a missing hubcap and a bent rim.

For a 26-foot box truck weighing 15 tons, traveling at 67 miles per hour through a crowded construction zone, the result was catastrophic. 

You watched, wide-eyed, as the truck jolted in front of you. 

It was simple math. 

Peter was knocked loose as the vehicle swerved like a serpentine from left to right, side-swiping vehicles on both sides. 

Every variable locked firmly in place.

Spider-Man was thrown into the hood of a stalled vehicle. You screamed as you watched his body crush the windshield. You slammed on the brakes. 

The unchanging constant. The outcome was inevitable.

Everything else that followed was like a choreographed dance.

A symphony written by fate. Every note falling into place, crescendoing to a deafening disaster.

The truck swerves. Pitches. Thrown off balance.

Road construction workers turn and shout. 

Another truck is stopped in the path. The cargo filled with flammable gasses.

There’s a collision.

A spark. A bright light.

A shockwave.

11:47 PM

Outside the tunnel, Officer Cage pauses from his frantic shouts into his radio. He turns and sees a bright light shooting out of the entrance. The shockwave that follows jolts cars, bursts glass, sets off alarms, and moves the Earth beneath his feet. 

The clockface of the Holland Tunnel ventilation tower is jarred, the hands jerking loose. The arms drop.

The time now says it’s 1:21. But it's wrong. Everything about this is so wrong.

There is no time left.

Cage turns pale as the tunnel entrance crumbles like a sandcastle, sealing all the vehicles inside. 

Another burst of light erupts. This one from the middle of the river.

11:47 PM

You’re gripping the steering wheel, and then you’re upside down, slamming into the roof. You taste blood and glass and metal.

Everything is white. You reach up to shield your eyes, but you can’t.

The light is blinding, shooting through your flesh like an x-ray. You can see right through your hands, observing every bone, vein, and capillary. 

Then.

Darkness.

“It was the HEAT of the MOMENT...”

No.

“...Tellin’ me.  what.  my. HEART meant...”

No, no, no, I need more time!

“...The HEEEAT of the MOMENT…

Showed in your EYEEEES…”

Your eyes pop open as you are viciously ripped away from the darkness. They burn instantly from the smoke.

Your senses are assaulted by the smell of blood and gasoline and salt water. Screams and sirens invade your ears.

“It was the HEAT of the MOMENT...”

Your bleary eyes struggle to adjust to the shadows, dark shapes taking form. You see an orange flickering glow. Punctuated with flashes of red and blue. Flames. Voices call out. Echoing. Steady horn blasts. Car alarms shrieking. The shrill cacophony of dozens of personal safety alarms—PASS devices, as Tuesday had taught you—magnify as they bounce off the concrete. 

There’s a roaring sound, too. Like a train passing. 

A sheet of crushed glass blocks your view. It looks like ice and snow, like you could reach out and wipe it off the windshield. 

You remember that you’re in the police car. 

You’re on your chest. You know your ribs are broken. You’re used to the pain.

“Tellin’ me.  what.  my. HEART meant...”

Peter. You have to find Peter.

“The HEEEAT of the MOMENT…

Showed in your EYEEEES…”

You hate this fucking song.

You push yourself up, crawling over the inverted dashboard, pulling yourself along with bloody fingers. You kick the shattered windshield out, feeling the sharp heat of crushed glass cutting into your leg. It’s no matter. If you have air left in your lungs, you have to find Peter.

When you crawl out, you’re drenched in freezing water. Your feet slosh in it as it crawls up your ankles. You take a shaky breath, and immediately sputter. Your ribs are definitely broken. And the air burns your lungs when you breathe.

You look up, trying to get your bearings. Look around. 

This is the worst, you think. This is the absolute worst. 

But no one will ever have to take your word for it, you realize. 

History will be more telling.

Around you, it’s pandemonium. 

The lights in the tunnel have gone out, save for headlamps and flashing lights of work vehicles. The red and blue police lights from your overturned cruiser are among them. And there’s fire, all around you, at both ends of the tunnel. Pockets of blackness in between the bonfires. 

It reminds you of war. Of war movies depicting the aftermath of the Blitz. Of grainy film footage of napalm swallowing a landscape, like somebody took the Sun and poured it out on a jungle.

The smell is awful and it makes you want to gag. Burnt rubber. Burnt hair. 

Dozens of cars and trucks, some of them crumpled like empty soda cans, all of them burning thick pillars of black smoke. The smoke looms across the tunnel ceiling. You can’t even see the ceiling tiles. Above you, there’s a boiling sky of black clouds. 

You hear the chorus of shouts. Shrill shrieks reverberating off the cement and tile. It sounds like people are being tortured. Like giant Grizzly bears must be ripping people apart. Disembodied voices screech for help, for God, for missing loved ones. You think you can hear an infant crying. Selfishly, you just want them to be quiet.

In the distance, the deep rumbling roar continues, like standing next to a jet engine. You also hear the echo of a synthesized keyboard riff, the wailing of an electric guitar. Asia rings out over the tinny squawk of car speakers from a battered minivan nearby. 

Because of course it fucking would be.

Massive chunks of concrete and twisted steel litter the broken asphalt. The whole roadway is flooded. A steady icy current claws at your calves, threatening to push you off balance. 

Immediately, you hear shrieks at your left, louder than the ones in the distance. You spot the figure of a man who has just woken up from the blast. 

Awful timing on his part. 

He’s engulfed in flames, burning alive. His lower half is pinned beneath an SUV. He looks like the squirming wick of a candle. The screams tear at your soul. You yank your eyes away. Your first instinct is to look for a rock to put him out of his misery. He’d thank you for it. 

Another sound jars you, the crumbling collapse of a wall nearby. You hear several sharp pops. You struggle to see through the dark. Melted bodies clad in safety orange glow clothing are right beside you. The water crests over them.

You look up towards the popping noises. Ceiling tiles, you realize. Water shoots into the tunnel under the immense pressure.

You squint beyond the dark, your eyes stinging from the acid clouds. Through the smoke and shadow you can see a wall. It’s moving. Your heart nearly seizes as you connect it to the roaring sound. 

It’s the sound of the Hudson River, pouring into the tunnel, waves crashing into the new underground cavern.

“Peter!” you shriek. Eyes darting around, remembering that you saw him fall. You turn around towards the opposite end of the tunnel. There’s nothing but rock and ash and burning metal behind you. And more screams, echoing in the dark. 

The tunnel must have collapsed, you realize. You wonder how many cars were buried beneath the rubble. Could be hundreds.

Your heart slams in your chest. You wonder if Peter is buried among them.

“Peter?” you scream, more panicked. 

Your voice cracks, and you know you’re not hoarse yet. You know it’s the carbon monoxide, the formaldehyde, the cyanide—the fatal cocktail of poison billowing around you. You can taste it in the air. You have minutes maybe.

It’s getting harder to see. You don’t want the darkness. The hellish chorus bouncing off of the cave of the tunnel. You’re struggling to hear his voice. You don’t want the quiet. 

You hear your name. Like a ray of sunshine.

You hear it again. Your boyfriend’s voice rings out.

“Peter!” you call out to him. 

In the shadows, a lanky figure stumbles out. You can barely make out the red-and-blue of his suit. His mask is off, he clutches the remnants of it in his bloody fist. It looks like he’s been dragged underneath a vehicle. The space shuttle, maybe.

He limps, his suit filthy and torn. A mix of sweat, blood, and soot coat his face and hair. 

But you can see his eyes. Black holes ripping galaxies apart. You feel a rush of relief as you wade through the water towards him.

“Peter!” you sob, unaware of when you started crying.

He spots you, and he might as well have dropped to his knees with tearful praise. “Thank god,” he gasps. He darts to you, sloshing through the water with his limp. As soon as he reaches you, he grabs ahold of you like he’s never going to let you go. You don’t want him to. 

His hands expand around the sides of your face like blinders, blocking out horrors that he didn’t want you to see. “You’re bleeding,” he exclaims, studying you carefully.

Blood streaks down the right of your face from a gash at your hairline. It’s not as bad as it looks, but now you’re aware of the pain. You don’t mind it too much. You’re mystified by his freckles. Your thumbs idly come up to wipe away the mud on them, wiping away some of his tears as well.

“Bug, look at me, are you okay?” Peter pleads. He’s still searching your face, unaware of how bad the damage is. 

The terror in his throat snaps you from your daze. You nod, salty tears stinging your wounds, as you bury your face in his chest. Your voice shakes. “I thought you were gone—”

He pulls you upright, his hands planted on the sides of your head as he steadies you. “I’m here,” Peter declares. It’s a promise. “I’m gonna get you outta here, alright?”

Your eyes widen, remembering the futility of your situation. You glance around, sparing another look to the chaos around you. 

Peter lets go of your cheeks to grip one of your coat sleeves. With a yank, he rips the fabric of the arm at the seam, clean from the shoulder. You watch in a haze, as he rolls the torn sleeve off of your arm, dipping it in the water below.

“Put this to your mouth!” he instructs, handing you the wet fabric. He has to shout over the roar of the water. “It’ll help with the smoke. We’re downwind right now. We gotta get below the flames.”

You know that’s a gross oversimplification of your current predicament. And you want to protest, because what about his lungs? But you follow his orders.

You glance from left to right, as does he. It’s pitch blackness away from the fire and water. You’re pinned between rock and river.

He holds your hand, tight enough to hurt. The shouting has begun to diminish now, which brings you no relief. You realize you can’t hear the baby anymore. You can't stop crying. You wonder what Peter must be feeling, and hope that his senses are still dampened. 

“C’mon,” he pulls you closer to the water side. That way leads further underground, but you understand the physics of it. Smoke rises, and the tunnel is acting like a chimney. Choosing to instinctively go back the way you came, to try to dig through the mass of rubble closer to the exit, would mean death by asphyxiation in less than two minutes.

You sludge through the frigid water. It’s waist-deep now, swirling around you. The further you descend the higher it gets. Peter grips you tight. It’s the only thing that keeps you from losing your mind. 

“Please help! Somebody help!”

You freeze in your steps and need your whole weight to keep Peter from pulling you along. You search frantically, recognizing that voice.

“Please, somebody help! I’m stuck!”

You see a crumpled taxi tossed on its side, teetering dangerously on a pile of rubble. Water bubbles up around the cab. Chewed fingernails with chipped polish reach out through a small gap, waving frantically. 

“Claire,” you breathe, stunned. You watch with wide eyes as the woman you saved earlier that Tuesday flails, trapped in the crushed taxi. The steel cages her in. Black water steadily creeps up around her. “Claire!”

“Help, please, I can’t move! I can’t—!” You hear coughing, gargling. 

“Peter, she’s stuck!” You point, and look up at him. The look on his face breaks your heart. He’s overwhelmed. He’s terrified. He looks at you, looks at the cab. He’s being torn apart inside. You’re asking him for too much. 

You pull away, “C’mon, help me!” Reluctantly, he moves with you, releasing your hand. He moves faster than you through the water, standing taller in the depths.

You reach the taxi as Claire’s screams become more panicked. The car is beneath boulders of concrete. You attempt to climb up on the cab. 

“Stay back!” Peter tells you. “This whole thing’s unstable!” The water is swarming, rising. Boiling, frigid, black death threatening to swallow the cab up. 

“Please, please, please,” Claire is babbling. You can barely see her bloodied face between the bars of her cage. “I-I can’t move my legs, please… I can’t—”

Peter works quickly above you to clear the rubble. “Hey, it’s me!” You tell her, your voice bright and placating. “Remember me? It’s okay. We’re here. Spider-Man’s here and we’re gonna get you out—“

Claire’s voice is weak, she’s barely able to speak between giant gasps of air. “Please, don’t—donwanna die… don’t wanna die, please I don’t want—”

You grip her hand tightly in yours. Tears sting your eyes. “Peter!”

“I’m goin’ I’m goin’!” He’s using his whole body to lift and loosen the rubble from the taxi.

The ground beneath you quakes. A rumble. Suddenly, you drop. You fall backwards to the water as the mound that the taxi is teetering on collapses. The taxi drops beneath the waterline. 

A web snatches your shoulder, keeping you above water, though the vacuum of air caused by the displacement threatens to drag you under. Peter plucks you from the water, suspending you by the web. 

“Be right back,” he huffs, like it’s nothing. He dives back in after the submerged taxi. 

You watch him disappear into the blackness, and can’t help but feel overwhelming horror at being left alone. It makes you feel ashamed. After the longest few seconds of your life, he reemerges. A body with sopping corn silk hair flops over his shoulder. 

He climbs back up to you and you drop from the web onto the hood of a floating car. The space between you and the ceiling is dramatically lower. You’re barely able to see him through the smoke. He hoists Claire up and lays her on the floating car, and you crawl towards her, putting your face to hers.

Her eyes are wide. Still. You have to be inches from her face to be able to see her terror-stricken look. 

“She’s gone,” Peter tells you, his heart breaking a little more as he says it.

You’re leaning over her dead body, seeing her bluish face for the 10,000th time. And you’re shrieking her name. Sobs wracking your body. The whole tunnel vibrates with your howls.

And that song. The notes melting away. The chorus drowns as its pulled under the river.

“C’mon, we gotta go!” Peter pleads. He grabs you by the arm. It’s not a request. He’s getting you out of there. Somehow. “We gotta climb—”

A horrible groan roars above you. You look up to see a piece of the ceiling moving downwards. It’s hurtling towards you, like a giant asteroid. Your extinction is imminent.

Peter pushes you out of the way.

You plunge back into the water, and it feels like a thousand needles pricking your skin. You open your eyes, which was a mistake, because you’re nearly blinded by the chemicals and salt water. You kick for your life. Your shoes feel like bricks, but you kick until you break the surface.

You gasp and choke and sputter. “Peter!” You gag and cough. “Peter!”

You open your eyes and you're still in Hell. Only blurrier. Darker. So quiet. No more babies. No more anyone.

You hear your name again. His voice chirps out. You look up and see the devil in question. The sight of him reels you in like a gravitational pull. You crawl over broken glass and rock and metal until you’re beside him.

Despite being half dead, your heart flutters at the sight of him—a glowing freckled face. Sparkling amber eyes. Messy crown of brunette hair, sopping wet with saltwater, motor oil, and blood.

He looks at you from the side, deliriously dazed and huffing with exhaustion.

Once he sees your face, he grins wide. Soft. Reminds you of the bright warmth of your bedsheets.

“Sunflower…” he breaths. He sounds dreamy. He sounds exhausted. His smile dims. “You’re bleeding...”

“I’m okay,” you sputter and cough, trembling from the cold and adrenaline. You're higher up now, near the ceiling of the tunnel. You can feel the water creeping up your back. Your eyes scan his face, attempting to see his freckles through the building smoke. You wrap your hands around his face just to know he’s there. “I’m okay, I’m okay... We have to get out of here, baby—Are you okay?”

“I’m good,” he nods, but he isn’t moving fast enough. He looks so tired. “Need— n-need explos...ves.” He shutters, the cold piercing him. “C-cop car. Look—look in the trunk. Needa... explosion. Flash grenade. R-road flares...” He grimaces sharply. You can’t take your eyes off the softness of his lips. “Ch-check f-for pressurized can-canister—”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying—”

“Need to create an explosion... at the ho-hole, wh-where the water... C-create a vacuum—”

“There’s nothing, Peter, there’s no cop car, it’s underwater—”

“You need to go,” he states, and you fall silent. You stare at his lips. Blood tints them. You shake your head. Pull at his arms.

Your whole body shakes. Your eyes are hard. “We don’t have time, Pete. We have to get out—c’mon, we have to go—”

Your icy fingers grip at the warmth beneath his chest. They tug at him frantically. You mean to pull him up with just your thumbs if you have to.

“Bug,” he blinks at you. Tears fill in his eyes. 

Your hands are warm. Burning hot. You look down. And that’s when you see the spear lodged in his side. A half-inch wide black, twisted piece of rebar piercing his chest. Your mouth falls open at the sight. It’s needled through his ribcage, piercing the back, slicing through his lung in a way that you can physically feel. Phantom pain from past experience. 

Peter Parker’s blood coats your palms. You can’t handle this pain. It’s too much.

You look down at him, head shaking furiously. He silently mouths your name, a hopeless apology. You don’t even know what he’s apologizing for.

“You ha-have to...go,” he chokes out. There’s more blood spilling from his lips. It’s harder for him to breathe. The water creeps up your shoulders, and threatens to drown you both. He’s going to drown before you, you realize, in his own blood.

“Pl-Please,” he says, voice breaking, “please ge-get out of here. Pl-please g-go.”

You shake your head. You grip his hands like holding onto the edge of a cliff. You hold tight, as if that could keep him with you. As if it could bring you more time.

“Ba-baby, please go... Please just go... Please, pro-promise me... you’ll get out of here...”

He’s fading, you realize, and you want to scream into the void. You want to headbutt the rebar and lodge it through your eye socket. Your chest heaves. You squeeze his hands tightly.

You nod your head. Realize that he doesn’t know what you know. He hasn’t seen what you’ve seen. There’s no way out of the tunnel. There’s no saving you. Either of you.

You nod. And he relaxes. “Just go... without me,” he pleads. His hard to hear him over the roar. You nod silently, tears roll down your face. 

“Mmm—m'sorry... so-so sorry—”

You’re still nodding as he fights to keep his eyes open. You pledge with your gaze. You promise him that you’ll survive. You lie. 

The light is gone. In his eyes, and in the tunnel. His grip loosens in your hold. The water crawls up your chin, and your head hits hard rock. You don’t want to let go. You don’t want to look away.

The water takes him, but you’re still holding onto his hands.

“It should’ve been me,” you cry. To yourself. Alone. In the dark. Underwater. It's the last thing you get to say.

You’re fighting to keep your eyes open, to see through the murky depth. You want to remember every freckle on his face, even as they’re drenched in tears. Darkness settles in anyway.

It’s hard to see how beautiful he is in the dark. 

Your lungs burn. There’s nowhere to go.

It should’ve been you. Not Peter. 

Every cell in your body screams at you, telling you it should’ve been you. You open your mouth to scream back. A heart-wrenching yowl. Water fills your mouth and your lungs.

You want to wake up. You want to go home. You want to go back. You want anything but this. 

Why aren't you waking up?

Elsewhere, above the Hudson.

A clock turns.

11:59...

TUESDAY, 7:00am

Your eyes popped open as you were viciously ripped away from the darkness. Music invaded your ears, your senses assaulted by a toe-tapping tune.

“It was the HEAT of the MOMENT

Tellin’ me.  what.  my. HEART meant

The HEEEAT of the MOMENT…

Showed in your EYEEEES…”

You opened your mouth wide and let the air fill your lungs. You can still feel the heat. You can smell the water. You gaze up at the stark white of your ceiling as giant tears flood your vision.

Tuesday.

Tuesday again.

You laid there. Shook with an odd mix of horror and relief. It was like waking from the most vivid nightmare of your life. Visions and sounds latched onto you like leeches. You cried silently like a child, cradled by your soft pillows and bedding. The only thing that keeps you from screaming out hysterically is the grounding feeling that comes with faith. Unquestionable. Undeniable.

You will die today.

It’s gospel. Inevitable. You’re supposed to die today. Not just you, you know now, through divine revelation. So many others. 

Regardless of how you meet your fate, nothing will prevent that horrific weapon from leaving that facility. The truck will drive into the tunnel. It will hit that debris. It will crash. And everyone in the tunnel will die.

Including Peter.

That is how the day ends, should you be alive to see it. That’s how his life ends. 

“Mornin’, Sunflower!” a pleasant voice rang out from your en suite bathroom. A moment later, Peter Parker’s head poked around the corner. His expression serenely naive of your gory last moments. 

Your heart shattered at the sight of him—a glowing freckled face, his sparkling amber eyes, a beautifully mischievous smile, and a messy crown of brunette hair. 

The memory of his dead face sliced through you. 

You looked away, grimacing. Sat up in bed, tears welling in your eyes.

You know what’s going to happen and you know what you have to do. No matter how painful. 

Today is the last day of the end of your life. 

“Babe?” he questioned, appraising you with a fading smile. He sensed your distress. He could smell your tears. “What’s the matter? You okay?” 

You stared at the blankets for a long while, your weight leaning back on the heels of your palms. You remained still, contemplative. The silence goes on longer than he is comfortable with.

You turned your face toward him, eyes sorrowful. 

“I’m breaking up with you, Peter.” 

It was quiet at the top of the Empire State Building. That’s why it was his favorite spot. Hair slicked with sweat, cheeks damp with salty streams of tears. Tragically, only sort of drunk. Peter’s mask was discarded beside him, next to an empty 3-liter bottle of McCormack’s. 

He took a swig from an identical bottle, nearly empty as well. Sourness set heavily on his tongue and it made him even more bitter. He couldn’t even afford the good stuff.

Fucking loser.

He swallowed down the acid water with disdain and self-contempt.

In his other hand, he toyed with the velvet box he kept hidden in his bedside drawer. Today, of all days. 

He was past the shock. Past the denial. Past bargaining. Somewhere between anger and depression. Actually, he was a mix of all of the emotions. 

You’d killed him. Crushed him. Murdered him in less than 100 words. A shot straight to the heart, without batting an eye. You were the deadliest assassin he’d ever known. You were savage, the cruelest villain he’d ever faced. 

You were his everything. He was the problem. 

That’s what you’d told him, swinging the axe down and cutting your ties. He was always gone. He was always late. He was always Peter Parker. 

Peter Parker would always be Spider-Man. 

And that was the nail in the coffin. That was reason enough. The killing blow.

As stunned as he was, he was almost… relieved. He knew this day would come. He knew you were too good for him, too good to be true, and this was a natural progression of that.

He always knew would lose you. He was grateful that at least he wasn’t standing over your grave this time. 

He didn’t know how long he’d been crying. He wasn’t sure what time it was. Time was meaningless.

The buzz of his phone was the first thing that broke him from his pity party. He flinched as he frantically dug for the advice.

Shamefully, he prayed that you were calling him to tell him you changed your mind. Or your conversation this morning was part of an elaborate hoax. The world’s greatest ‘punking.’ Ashton Kutcher springs out of nowhere. He’d happily laugh it off. He’d chuckle like a fool and rush home to scoop you up in his arms. Sick burns and all.

Fingers fumbling, he accepted the call and slapped the phone to the side of his face.

The whimper of his voice was pathetic. Truly. “Bug?” 

Fucking loser.

“Peter?” A middle-aged woman’s voice shattered his hopes.

Confused, he pulled the phone away to look at the screen: KIM MANNERS.

Fuck. Your mom had his number. He knew it was a risk, reaching out behind your back. She’d been calling him all week, adding steadily to the pressure of his upcoming proposal. No wonder she drove you crazy. She’s probably wanting details about when he was going to pop the question. 

Fuckkkk.

“Peter? Are you there?”

He put the phone back to his ear, and briefly considered throwing his phone off of the Empire State Building. 

With a flayed voice, he replied, “Hi, Mrs. Manners.”

“Peter? Where are you? What’s going on?” She sounded like a parrot. A parody of a typical New England voice. “What happened?”

Fuck fuck fuck fuckidity—

“Sorry, Mrs. Manners, I-I was gonna call—”

“Peter,” your mother interrupted with a sultry tone. If he wasn’t such an idiot he’d recognize the cougar purr of her voice, “you know I told you to call me Kim.” 

He squeezed his eyes shut, his head pounding. Not just from the alcohol. “Ugh, yeah—” He tried not to make it sound like a gag reflex, but it crept out anyway. “Yeasshh, I, uh, sorry, I gotta little tied up—”

Ew! Gross, noo, fuckfuckfuck.

“Now’s not a good—”

“Is my daughter with you?” 

FAHHHHHK… She doesn’t know? Of course she wouldn't. She's not subscribed to the 'Watch Peter Parker Get Fucked Again This Week' Newslet—

Ahh! No! Gross! Ew! “Uhm… no, I—”

“Do you know where she is? She’s not answering her phone.” 

“I… I-I don’t think she wants to talk right now—”

“I think something weird is going on,” Kim blurted, still oblivious to the fact that Peter had spent the last few hours sobbing on roofs of several New York landmarks.

The concern in her voice pricked the skin on the back of his neck. He stiffened, his spinal column locking in place. Peter shook his head confusedly, “I’m… I’m not sure what you—”

“Peter, listen to me, I know my daughter. I think something is wrong.”

Peter felt faint all of a sudden. “Waddya mean? What’re ya—what’re you sayin’?”

“I think she’s in trouble,” she explained. “She left me a weird message. She can be so moody sometimes. She gets that from her father. I can sense these things, y’know. I’ve always told people I have a sixth sense about this stuff. You know, my grandmother said she could—”

His heart is pounding, threatening to break through his chest. “Wait, wait, wait, what do you mean ‘trouble?’ What message? What did she say exactly?”

Silence on the other end of the line. Peter felt like he was going to vomit.

“She said that she loved me, and she was sorry,” Kim finally said, with an exasperated tone. Equal parts embarrassment and concern. “And that she forgave me.” She said the last part with a growing sense of dread. 

“And she called me ‘Mom.’”

Peter’s mouth hung open, every cell in his body alerting him. Something was wrong. He pulled the phone away from his ear, glancing down. 

He also had a voicemail. From you.

This was the stupidest thing you’d ever done. But damn was it thrilling. You should’ve been a car thief in another life. 

“Hey, Peter,” your voicemail recorded a few minutes ago said, “I realize it’s probably hard to listen to this message, but it’s important that I say this, so I need you to listen...”

You’d hotwired the box truck carrying the weapon and detoured away from the tunnel. You stepped on the gas pedal, increasing speed steadily. 

Fifteen minutes before, you’d found Dr. Rivers. You told him urgently that his daughter was going to hurt herself, and that you would tell him when and where she could be found, and that information you were going to give freely, because it was the right thing to do. That despite his past absence, his daughter needed him more than ever. They both deserved a second chance. 

Everyone did. And that’s why you needed him to tell you how to destroy the weapon safely.

And he did. 

“I’m sorry that this is how things need to end. It’s not what either of us had planned, but life is like that. This isn’t your fault. You really need to know that. In fact, I have to thank you.” 

Now you were running. Driving a hot wired truck carrying one of the most powerful weapons ever created, stolen from the C.I.A. You pushed the gas pedal all the way to the floor. 

“You’ve taught me the meaning of life, how fragile and precious it is. How important. I want you to know that what you do matters. Even when it feels like it doesn’t.”

You glanced in the rear view mirror, seeing a flurry of red and blue light behind you. Sirens wailing. You smirk. You wonder if Officer Cage is among them.

You switched on the radio.

“It was the HEAT of the MOMENT…”

Your smile widens. You fucking love this song.

“You have no idea how many lives you touch. Including mine.” 

The pier is ahead of you. At the end of it, your watery grave. You were pleased as pie, knowing that at least you were taking this bitch down with you. 

You sang along, “Showed in your eyeeeeeeeeeeees—”

The pedal is on the floor. The truck launches off the end of the pier. Curves in an arch. Collides with the water. The windshield crumples in front of you as the frigid water pours in, surrounding you, submerging the truck, sinking the weapon. 

You feel so alive. Your heart is pounding. Your body is sizzling with energy, even as you’re dragged into the water. 

“Did you know that you have the prettiest fucking smile? I can wake up to that smile 10,000 times, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I’m so grateful for every second of it. Even the painful parts.” 

It’s getting dark. It was beautiful today. And now, darkness. Rising steadily. Coming up to cradle you in its arms as you sink further below. This is how it ends. You’re certain.

You look up out the window, enjoying the rays of sunlight poking down from the surface as they get further away. Your chest is burning, like a flaming sword through your heart. Lungs aching. Ribs threatening to implode. The pressure is unbearable. But you don’t mind. You’re used to the pain. 

It’s worth it. Just to say goodbye to the rays of sunlight. To thank them for keeping you warm. For rainbows. Sunsets. Sunflowers and pineapples. For lighting the eyes of the man you love, casting them in a golden hue. 

“Live your life. Be better than you were yesterday. And don’t be too hard on yourself, because you can be better tomorrow. Do good things.” 

Speak of the devil. A figure torpedos through the surf, descending lower. You see him in the murky haze of the water, the familiar red and blue catching your eye. 

Peter’s eyes widen as he recognizes you in the passenger seat. His mask is off. You smile at him. You wave, as water shoves itself down your throat. 

“And don’t worry about me. I think everything is gonna work out.” 

It’s time to go home, you think. Safe and warm. Where your ancestors await you. You’ll see Nana Manners there. You’ll see your old cats there. Your grandparents. Your parents. Maybe you’ll finally get to meet Gwen. Meet Uncle Ben.

Peter will be there too, one day. You’re certain.

“One way or another... I’ll see you later.”

Peter swims up to the window. He’s scared, but he needn’t be. You can still move your arms, even though they’ve gone heavy. You place your hand on the glass.

“Goodbye, for now. I love you. Forever.”

There’s a message written on your palm. You hope he can read it. Hope he sees it. Takes it to heart. Holds it there. Believes in it as you believed in each other. Forever.

Three simple words.

'SEIZE THE DAY'

The light fades from your eyes. 

This is how it ends.

Or so you’d thought.

Round, mellow notes fill the air. Clean, thick strings, weaving together. Vibrating with warmth. Delicately rising, like steam from a hot spring.

Over the hum of a vintage, six-string, acoustic guitar, peppered with banjo plucks, and the crisp ring of a distant electric hardbody, the gentle crooning of John Denver filled your ears.

“He was born in the summer of his 27th year

Coming home to a place he'd never been before

He left yesterday behind him, 

You might say he was born again

You might say he found a key for every door...”

Your eyelids creaked open, as dim lights swam in your vision. Your eyelashes fluttered. The ceiling foreign. The room cast in shadow. A machine steadily beeps, off-tempo from the music. Your eyelids are heavy. 

Why?

“...When he first came to the mountains his life was far away

On the road and hanging by a song...”

You drew back the curtains of your gaze again, going crosseyed for a moment as they attempted to adjust to the light. You focused on a single, blurry shape, willing it to be still and come into focus. 

You squinted, your head aching. Your chest felt sore. Like you’d worn a vise as a bra. Or spent a day as a shake-weight in a gym for giants.

Your vision sharpened. It’s Peter’s eyes—doe-like, dreamy, warm, and so, so tired—that pulls you from your slumber.

He’s so pretty, you thought, and your lip stung from the grin that stretched your face. He sat in a chair at your bedside, dressed in wrinkled clothes that were a little too worn to be clean.

You blinked a few times and really took in the sight of him. 

Dark circles colored heavy bags under his eyes. He’s even more pale than usual, you noted. His skin looked dry, like all of the moisture had been squeezed from his body. Through his bleary eyes, you assumed, observing how bloodshot they were. 

Peter was worse for wear. 

But he was so damn pretty. 

Your heart ached at the sight of him. And seeing your eyes illuminate had a similar effect on his. Despite looking utterly exhausted, like he’d been awake for a few millenia, his cheeks pinched up and he could no longer hide his teeth behind his lips.

He smirked at you, then glowed as he drank you in.

Despite this, there was a melancholy in his red-rimmed eyes.

You gazed around at your surroundings. A darkened hospital room. You were in a hospital bed. 

You remembered where you’d been and realized you weren’t where you were—the jarring discrepancy confusing and overwhelming you. 

“Hey, hey, hey, shh, you’re okay,” Peter whispered, leaning forward out of the chair. Instinctively, he reached up and brushed a lock of hair from your face. He shifted his body closer to you, scooting in the chair, like he was magnetically charged to gravitate to you. 

“You’re okay,” he cooed. “You’re in the hospital. You’re safe. You’re... you’re gonna be okay.”

You were dead, you recall. 

You were sinking, lungs filled with water, brain shutting down.

You glanced over to see an outdated clock radio plugged in on a table nearby, this one with a 30-pin dock meant for a first-generation iPod. You gaze at the retro white device, recognizing the music.

“...But the string’s already broken and he doesn’t really care

It keeps changing fast and it don't last for long...”

You blinked. Your jaw hung open. Tears pricked your eyes. 

“This song,” you breathed, and probably sounded crazy. You felt giddy. You felt like laughing and crying and screaming at the top of your lungs. “It’s... it’s not Asia...”

“Uhm, no,” Peter replied. He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s John Denver. Sorry. It’s lame. I, uh, I didn’t get a chance to make a playlist, or anything—”

He swallowed hard, his shoulders tense. He looked away from you—to the wall, to the floor, to the space on the pillow next to your head. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. It looked painful, like a rock is lodged in there.

“Wha-what day is it?” you stuttered, gazing up at him. You’re still trying to decide if you’re dreaming. If this is Heaven.

Peter’s brow quirks suspiciously. “Wednesday,” he replied, and you take pity on the exhaustion in his voice. “You’ve been out for almost 20 hours—”

You laughed. “It’s Wednesday?”

He stared at you, his concern growing. “Y-yeah...?”

You giggled uselessly, relishing in the sensation of hot tears streaking your cheeks. “It’s Wednesday!” Your chuckling grew louder, until your throat trips and you cough. Your lungs feel like paper mache.

“Easy, take it easy,” Peter softly admonished you, as he brushed his hands over your face possessively. He didn’t take them off this time. You don’t want him to. “You need to rest,” he replied. “You... got banged up... pretty bad...”

You gazed at the redness of his eyes, and realized what must have happened. You’re stricken with guilt. “I’m so sorry, Peter,” you muttered, but you couldn’t stop smiling.

He shook head, refusing to make eye contact. “S’okay. You’re okay.”

“No, no—”

“You’re alive,” he bit off, a little more firm than he needed to be. “You’re going to be okay. That’s all that matters.” 

His thumbs rubbed circles into your jaw. You sensed that he was at war with himself, debating between pulling away from you and stapling himself to you. His fingers gripped you with a compulsive anxiety. A phobia that he would be forced to let you go, and this time, lose you forever.

“I’m so sorry I hurt you.” You looked up at him like you were staring through pearly gates. Like you could see souls being formed with the stars. “I didn’t mean it, didn’t mean any of it—”

“It doesn’t matter,” he repeated, but the tears welling in his eyes told you the opposite. “None of that matters,” he stammered, still unable to look at you. 

He felt so far away. You needed him closer. You needed to be wrapped around him, smothering him like a koala. 

You giggled and pulled at his arms, squirming in the hospital bed. The movement made you wince. You felt your pulse in your head. 

“Just relax,” he fretted, pinning your shoulders down gently. The weight of his palms felt divine. “You gotta rest, Bug. Doctor’s orders.”

He pinched his face, like he’d bit his tongue. That caught your attention. You stared up at him, noting the discomfort he was failing to hide from you. He hadn’t looked at you yet.

“Bug, listen. There’s—” He winced again. “You were out a while. The-the doctors, they ran some tests, and... um, they... Somethin’ came up on the MRI.”

You study the brown of his eyes. It reminds you of whiskey. Of chocolate. Of mahogany. 

He struggled to speak, failing to keep his voice calm. “They, um... They s-said there was, uh, a-a shadow of some kind. On your brain.”

You curved your eyebrow as you focused on his mouth. Simultaneously listening to the words on his lips, and watching how his lower lip quivered. You wanted to kiss it. To steady it with your own. Your fingers ached to pull him in.

You must have been squirming again, because before you knew it, Peter grasped your hands up in his, holding them tightly to his chest. He hovered over you, practically whispering in your ear.

“You were already under,” he quickly explained, the rest of the words tumbling out at once. “The-they did a biopsy. Just a little cut, and-and they said they were going to send the tissue off for a-a lab test. And... and when it comes back, we’ll know more about it, but... but the doctor said, he said it was good, whatever it is. Good that we caught it early. He said—” 

Peter’s voice broke, and then his eyes met yours. They welled up with tears. He looked deeply shaken, pulled taut. Like his limbs were made of matchsticks and he would crumble or go up in flames at any moment. 

He looked so afraid. 

He looks as scared as you should be. Your brain moves like molasses to catch up with the fact that it nearly caused your ultimate demise. 

Your mind spun with what-ifs and destiny and alternate universes and higher purpose and you have to stay focused on the chocolate of his eyes because that’s the only thing that mattered to you. 

Peter swallowed hard, digging out his voice. “They said that you coulda had an aneurysm any day now. Like, you’re there one minute and just... you’d be gone.”

You gazed up at him, spotting the tremor in his chin again. He bit down, to keep it steady. You wanted to pepper his chin in kisses for the next 100 years, or 100 minutes, or 100 seconds. Whatever you could get.

“I, uhm,” he struggled to continue. “I don’t know what I woulda done if... you... if you’d...”

He doesn’t finish the sentence. He can’t, you realized. 

“Pete,” you softly replied. 

He looked up at you, and he’s so beautiful, it hurts. 

You gazed lovingly at him and showered him with adoration. Looking at you is too much for him. 

His brow creased with sorrow as he buried his face in your joined hands. Shoulders shaking. You felt him sob into your skin, tears soaking your hospital gown. 

“It’s okay,” Peter said with a sniffle, for both of you. He pulled himself upright. He was trying so hard to stay strong. “S’gonna be okay. You’re going to be okay. I-I promise, whatever happens. I’m not gonna leave your side. We face it together. I don’t care if I’m not with you, or we’re not together anymore. It’s—-this isn’t about me. I’m there for you. ‘Til the end, okay? I swear to you. It’s going to be okay.”

You watch him like you’re watching a sunrise. Like a rainbow is forming behind him. Sunlight piercing heavy rain clouds. You’re in exactly the right place. Exactly the right moment.

Time is meaningless. Time is priceless. Time is everything.

You cried happy tears. “I know.” 

If he asked you to marry him right now, you’d say yes in a heartbeat. 

You couldn’t help yourself—you ran your fingers through his hair. Across his chin. You wanted to map every freckle with your fingertips. Draw invisible lines in his skin. “I know it will, baby, I know. I believe you.”

His expression softened at your smile. He let himself get lost in it. Letting waves of hope crash over him and pull him along with the tide. His lips curved gently, and he returned it. The muscles in his body relaxed slightly.

“We’re gonna be okay,” you promise him, with no real way of knowing.

No way of predicting the future. 

And yet, no doubt. 

“Because today is Wednesday,” you explain, heart floating in your chest, swelling with gratitude. “And we have today.”

The End.

A/N: Thank you for riding with me for this story. I hope that it brings you peace and healing and happiness.

Take care of yourselves!

Did you like this story? Please share your thoughts with me via comment, ask, or reblog! Thank you for reading, and thank you for supporting fandom and fandom writers!

[chevvy-yates]

*Ding Dong* Guten Tag, Boro mein Name. Haben sie vielleicht ein paar Minuten Zeit, um über ihre Blorbos zu reden?

One for everyone, but just answer those you like, no pressure!

Vijay: 43 // Jaysen: 49 // Ryder: 2 // Thyjs: 41 // Hizumi: 32 // Falco: 20 

:D

43. Do they prefer day or night?

Vijay prefers day as he feels he gets more private stuff done even though he's not an early bird (wakes up mostly around 1pm). Nighttime for him means mostly work — merc work. There are day work exceptions tho. You can say he's comfortable with both but still he would always prefer daytime over night time.

49. What's their favorite store to be in? Least favorite?

Jay's favorite store to be in is practically any store that sells awesome cars. He will be inspecting every car and even think about what could be the best way to steal one of them. His least favorite store is anything that sells healthy products.

2. A sound they find irritating

The sound deers are making. They are such cute and even majestic creatures and then they do this.

41. What kind of exercise do they most enjoy/need?

Thyjs needs his daily dosage of Militech soldier training. When he gets up first he does is go jogging. Also trains with a box sack to practise his dodging but that isn't enough for an Ex-Militech and KCT soldaat! So either he goes alone or with Ryder or even Arki and does some assault course he and the boys built up in an empty industrial site to stay fit. Often they train together and exercise so they stay skilled and fit for merc work. Thyjs though is the one who trains most and each day.

32. What is their ideal work environment in terms of light, sounds, other people, etc.?

Hizumi's ideal work environment is definitely not down in the streets. They prefer to work and operate from roofs and other higher points so they can overlook everything. It's mainly because they don't feel safe on the ground in Night City. Rooftops give them some shelter so whenever Hizumi works on something (also counts for training) they do it on a rooftop. Light is not really needed and sounds are less noisy on the roof as well. They are not in need of other people but they do enjoy when e.g. Ryder joins them for sword fight practise as both use blades (Ry is only mantis tho, while Hizumi wields katana/tanto).

20. A song that instantly transports them back to a certain memory.

That would be this song:

Falco is, like Ryder, a Techno(ise) connoisseur and he went to his first techno(ise) party in his teens already (unlike Ryder) and this song is one of the first one that sucked him into this world for real. It made him start wanting to create his own music and in general he's got lots of good memories of partying in Cologne to this song. Even today it's on his playlist as the last played song before he goes off the stage.

[charles-leclerc-official]

did u see the mclaren illegal fuel pump rumour? im so mad about their car actually being fast that im seriously following it despite knowing it probably is false

the damage this sport has done to my self respect is enormous

I saw it, one account posted a claim that Mclaren was having their fuel pump inspected by the FIA due to performance suspicions.

THERE IS NO SOURCE FOR THIS.

The FIA have made no request, the account who claimed this is just some account. Their evidence was a quote from Charles post Imola that they deleted. There is no source on this being a thing that is happening at all. They literally made it up.

And you can tell because they tried to tie what Charles said about the power unit usage after Imola qualifying to the fuel pump, and this is a misunderstanding of what Charles was saying and also the way the fuel pump can affect the speed and performance of the car. So not only was the person incorrect they do not know what they are talking about as far as the actual construction of an F1 car goes.

Again, this is false, there is no source.

If there is anything there we will see this come out from official sources in the coming weeks. But I do not think that we will.

They based their claim off of this one post quali interview Charles gave.

"We lost everything in the straights, and they are doing something weird with the energy, engine-wise, Mclaren and Red Bull. “We will look into that. Once we fix that, we’ve got a real shot of going back onto the top step of the podium." - Charles post Imola qualifying

Ferrari have confirmed that they were having power unit setting issues and there was a further problem with Charles PU at Imola, that is the explanation. We know the reason for what Charles was talking about here now. Like there was an explanation we got it, case closed.

And furthermore, it was Red Bull and Mclaren. So to claim that it's just Mclaren who had a part advantage of some sort and use this quote as evidence is stupid because Charles pointed to both Red Bull and Mcalren as being higher in power.

So this claim falls apart on all fronts: 1. No source 2. Bad car anatomy 3. Bad understanding of what a driver said 4. Cherry picking an interview

I knew someone would ask this because it's making the rounds.

I understand as Ferrari fans we do not trust Mclaren, but I need real proof. If there is any it will come to light eventually, but this claim is incorrect even at face value, digging deeper it falls apart entirely.

When it comes to twitter remember the site now monetarily incentivizes people to create posts that will get clicks and attention, and they will lie to do that.

Also I know I reply to twitter rumors with pretty harsh language, I am not mad at anyone for asking a question, asking when you see rumors is good. I am harsh because I want to be very clear on the issues of twitter rumors and hopefully shut down discourse quickly before it spreads further.

[mariacallous]

When bizarre and misleading answers to search queries generated by Google’s new AI Overview feature went viral on social media last week, the company issued statements that generally downplayed the notion the technology had problems. Late Thursday, the company’s head of search, Liz Reid, admitted that the flubs had highlighted areas that needed improvement, writing, “We wanted to explain what happened and the steps we’ve taken.” Reid’s post directly referenced two of the most viral, and wildly incorrect, AI Overview results. One saw Google's algorithms endorse eating rocks because doing so “can be good for you,” and the other suggested using nontoxic glue to thicken pizza sauce.

Rock eating is not a topic many people were ever writing or asking questions about online, so there aren't many sources for a search engine to draw on. According to Reid, the AI tool found an article from The Onion, a satirical website, that had been reposted by a software company, and it misinterpreted the information as factual.

As for Google telling its users to put glue on pizza, Reid effectively attributed the error to a sense of humor failure. “We saw AI Overviews that featured sarcastic or troll-y content from discussion forums,” she wrote. “Forums are often a great source of authentic, first-hand information, but in some cases can lead to less-than-helpful advice, like using glue to get cheese to stick to pizza.”

It’s probably best not to make any kind of AI-generated dinner menu without carefully reading it through first.

Reid also suggested that judging the quality of Google’s new take on search based on viral screenshots would be unfair. She claimed the company did extensive testing before its launch and that the company’s data shows people value AI Overviews, including by indicating that people are more likely to stay on a page discovered that way.

Why the embarassing failures? Reid characterized the mistakes that won attention as the result of an internet-wide audit that wasn’t always well intended. “There’s nothing quite like having millions of people using the feature with many novel searches. We’ve also seen nonsensical new searches, seemingly aimed at producing erroneous results.” Google claims some widely distributed screenshots of AI Overviews gone wrong were fake, which seems to be true based on WIRED’s own testing. For example, a user on X posted a screenshot that appeared to be an AI Overview responding to the question “Can a cockroach live in your penis?” with an enthusiastic confirmation from the search engine that this is normal. The post has been viewed over 5 million times. Upon further inspection, though, the format of the screenshot doesn’t align with how AI Overviews are actually presented to users. WIRED was not able to recreate anything close to that result.

And it's not just users on social media who were tricked by misleading screenshots of fake AI Overviews. The New York Times issued a correction to its reporting about the feature and clarified that AI Overviews never suggested users should jump off the Golden Gate Bridge if they are experiencing depression—that was just a dark meme on social media. “Others have implied that we returned dangerous results for topics like leaving dogs in cars, smoking while pregnant, and depression,” Reid wrote Thursday. “Those AI Overviews never appeared.”

Yet Reid’s post also makes clear that not all was right with the original form of Google’s big new search upgrade. The company made “more than a dozen technical improvements” to AI Overviews, she wrote.

Only four are described: better detection of “nonsensical queries” not worthy of an AI Overview; making the feature rely less heavily on user-generated content from sites like Reddit; offering AI Overviews less often in situations users haven’t found them helpful; and strengthening the guardrails that disable AI summaries on important topics such as health.

There was no mention in Reid’s blog post of significantly rolling back the AI summaries. Google says it will continue to monitor feedback from users and adjust the features as needed.

[blog-carinspectors]

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[calling4glaives]

Guard Post: The West Gate

Aside from a deep dive on Nyx himself to match the ones we did for the other glaives for Legends, this spring we’re going to focus on the locations where Nyx does guard duty, to give a better idea of where he spends his time.

The first of these is the West Gate, where Nyx is assigned as punishment after the opening battle. Though Drautos doesn’t name the location after the battle, he does when he pulls Nyx from gate duty just after he assigns Crowe her mission - “And, Nyx: you're off the West Gate. You've been reassigned to the castle guard. That is all.”

(Interestingly, the West Gate is also where Ardyn approaches from, according to the guard who interrupts Drautos’s report on the Diamond Weapon. This and a sign seen above the highways are the only references to it by name.)

[The pictures for this post were captured by the lovely @starjunco unless otherwise stated.]

The gate itself is rather ornate, especially for its size. The massive wall appears to be made from either limestone or concrete, and is kept meticulously clean, especially compared to the more blocky concrete building in front of it, which might be some sort of customs or processing office. Or possibly the local Gate Guards/Crownsguard station.

The wall itself appears to have buildings inside of it. The massive windows appear to be open - possibly for air circulation - but show a blank wall behind them, so some of this space could be mere ornamentation. The lower bank of windows, at least, seems to genuinely be in use, which makes sense. As massive as the city is, it must have horrible overcrowding issues, and efficient use of space is economical and logical.

Nyx and Petra (and another pair of guards) are guarding the exit through the Wall [NB: Lucis drives on the right], though both sides are seeing oddly little use. This is after Ardyn has come but before the treaty has been announced, but this lack of traffic does seem odd. [Perhaps it was done to save the animation budget and was then made a plot point, but it still is a bit odd]. There appear to be only three lanes on either side (plus an ungated exit to what might be a parking garage in the wall), so read into that what you will about normal traffic patterns.

The metallic tollbooth/inspection area has flimsy barriers and no real guard booths, but matches the structure overhead very nicely. The yellow, red, and white crash barriers seem the most modern, but it is interesting to wonder how long this structure - and also the cars it seems designed for - has been in Insomnia. The fact that this passage is so high up on the wall raises further questions about how the Wall itself has changed over the years.

Here’s where the real questions start. By this view, it looks like the Citadel is very close. Probably 5 km close even with elevation, which is far too close to even be the flat sides of the outer wall of Insomnia.

This might indicate that this isn’t the outer wall, but the wall to the Citadel district itself. There are several signs that indicate there is a Citadel Wall as well as the main one. If Nyx’s neighborhood underneath the massive bridges is 5km from the Citadel, as the signs at his train stop indicate, an inner wall near the bridges could maybe be as close as this view implies.

[Insomnia Concept art by Paul Chadeisson, from his site.]

A 5km central district gives Insomnia in general a radius of about 40 km, which while not the massive continent-spanning impossibility seen on maps of the whole continent, does fit with the size of cities like Tokyo, which was likely the main inspiration for the city.

But things can never be that logical, especially when it comes to Square and maps in this game specifically. 

Because, this appears to also be the gate Luna comes in through - the buildings seem to match, and Petra is even stationed there. This could be why Luna's car was able to drive this far - she was driven through the outer regions of Insomnia before Nyx took over - but the signs and route Drautos drives Nyx to get here implies it is the outer Wall. This could just be saving animation money again (or Insomnia standardizing crossings), but Petra's presence seems to count against it. Then again, the man does seem to show up everywhere and be rather highly ranked, and if Luna's arrival was anticipated...

The shots from this scene also show a little of the buildings in the Wall that flank this checkpoint, wherever it is. There are trees and elevators, and seem like they probably see heavy usage.

What do you think they are - shopping, defensive positions, office buildings for Insomnia’s sprawling bureaucracy, bypasses for the less defensible straight tunnel in the center, something else? And how do you solve the Perspective Problem?

We hope this helps you in your brainstorming and creative endeavors, especially for Nyx Week (a mere seven weeks away)! Let us know what you think and anything we might have missed, otherwise we'll see you weekly for the polls and in two weeks or so for the next deep dive.

[bitchyfoxymama]

Survive - HoTD Zombie Apocalypse AU - HoTD x F!Reader PT 3

Warnings: characters death, slapping, talks of suicide, implied smut(got lazy didn't wanna write it lmao), crying

We drive as fast as our cars can take us, Jace driving as me and Nyra hold Luke in the back. Nyra’s tears fall free as I try to bite mine back.

“Come on baby, you're fine, you’ll be fine. Jacerys pull the car over!” She yells causing him to abruptly stop, almost causing our caravan to crash.

Luke’s eyes are shut, sweat is covering his face and he is moaning in pain. He doesn’t have much time.

“Come on aunt Nyra, let’s get him on to something comfy. Rhena and Baela grab the pillow and blankets, set them on the ground ok,” I say while picking up Luke in my arms, trying to be gentle.

I lay him gently down on the blanket, his head is propped on the pillow. Jace and Nyra are silently talking with him.

I walk away so I can throw up. I was supposed to protect them, why did I turn my back? Why didn’t I make sure it was clear? All these different thoughts flow through my head as I empty my stomach. A hand runs down my back and a water bottle is put in my peripheral vision. I take a sip rinsing my mouth and spitting the remnants of bile from my mouth.

“Oh Aemond, why didn’t I—I could have stopped this, Luke is over there dying because of me!” I turn my face into his chest as I let the tears fall.

“If this is anyone’s fault it’s my own, I told aunt Nyra that I would look out for him” he says running his palm down my head. It’s comforting.

We walk back towards Luke to say our final goodbyes. I kiss his sweaty forehead and whisper how much I love him and that I vow to never let anyone else die from a simple mistake.

He passed in Nyras arms, she moved the pillow so her lap could hold his head. Her screams haunt as the tears fall from her eyes as she cries out.

“My sweet boy,” she leans her forehead against his whispering words only the seven know.

I walk over to her and embrace her, “Aunt Nyra we have—we have to shoot him so he doesn’t come back as one of them, if you or Jace-”

She slaps me across the face, startling everyone, “This is all your fault, you were supposed to be watching him!” She tries to lunge at me once more but is pulled back by Jace. He gives me a sympathetic look.

Aemond pulls me up to inspect my cheek, “She doesn’t mean it, she’s just in shock, she—she will be better when we bury Luke I hope, and when we get to the cabin,”

“Aemond, it’s probably better if you do it, I can’t bring myself too” Jace says, swallowing thickly as he comes over to us, his mother now being consoled by the other children and Alicent in the back of Jaces SUV.

Aemond uses a spare blanket and covers Luke before he pulls the trigger, I turn my head away unable to face the act. I silently walk back to my car and pull out the shovel I had in case of emergencies. As I pass Aemond, he reaches a hand out to grab my forearm.

"Y/n let me help, you shouldn't do this alone," his eyes pleading.

"I have to do this alone, when i finish go grab everyone and we can have a funeral for him." I say eyes looking down, i gear him sign and release my arm. I walk a few meters away from our caravan and begin digging Luke's grave site. I dig 4 feet down before struggling to get my foot out of the hole.

I walk back to the group, laying down my shovel. I see Rhaenyra and she's calmed down a bit, she lifts her head when she sees me. Her lower lip quivers, she exits Jace's SUV and wraps me in her arms.

"I'm so sorry my sweet girl, you didn't deserve the words I said to you," she cries into my shoulder, "I'm sorry"

I wrap my own arms tightly around her form, "Aunt Nyra I forgive you, but could you ever forgive me for not protecting him?"

"Oh sweetling, there was nothing either of us could have done. You have been here since the beginning, you have protected my children, Alicent's children. You are our rock. I am grateful for you,"

I want to let the tears fall once again but I hold them in. For Nyra, for Luke.

"Come Nyra let us bury him," I sadly smile as I walk towards Luke's body. I gently pick him up just as I had when he was bit, I carry him towards the burial site.

We have the funeral. Giving the Velaryon family a chance to say their goodbyes followed by the Targaryens. Cregan and I stand at the back, near the willow tree. Once everyone had gone back I approached his grave and sat down, not caring about the dew ridden morning.

"Luke, my sweet Luke. I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you. I promised you I'd protect you and that we would make it out of this hellscape. I'm so sorry. I vow I won't let anyone else die, not on my watch. You were such a sweet child, always wanting to help me out when I'd babysit you and the other littles. I will always miss you but you will forever be in my heart. Forever." I let the tears finally fall free from my eyes, I looked over at the group. They were all comforting everyone, I walked over and got into the driver seat of my car.

"Are you alright?" Aemond asks as he sits into the passenger seat, his hand lays on my knee rubbing soothing circles.

"Y—yeah, um we need to head out, it's not safe." I say turning the key in the ignition. I pull the walkie up, "we need to head out, no one else dies today or ever, i swear of it. We have about 12 more hours of drive, if we do it right we can make it to the cabin by 7 pm tonight."

"OK let's head out." Jace says from his car.

"Got it," Cregan says from Aemonds car as well.

We make the trek, passing by abandoned cars, bodies laid out on the highway. We see messages for missing loved ones about where to find each other. I can only pray to the seven that Cregan and I's families are still ok up at the cabin.

There have been 3 shift changes as well as one refueling. Aegon took over for Jace, Heleana for Cregan and Aemond for myself, since then we have made it to just the outskirts of winterfell.

It looks the same as kings landing. Bodies, zombies and blood everywhere. I want to throw up.

"We need to keep going, we can't restock here. We aren't too far from Grandpa's cabin now," Cregan says over the walkie.

"Yes," I say as I feel Aemonds hand reach out for my thigh once more, "I just want my dad to be ok," I say more to myself than to Aemond 'I can't lose anyone else' I also wanna add but the words die in my throat.

I keep my eyes front, soon enough we pull into the cabin's front gate. I hurriedly get out of the car and over to the unlocked gate, hand on my gun. I wait till all the cars have made it past before I close the gate once more and reenter my car.

"It's just up this path," I point, Aemond proceeds to pull up to the cabin.

"Oh my gods," the words slip out of my mouth before my brain can make any sense of the abandoned cabin. I'm already out of the car, I hear feet running behind me I can only assume it's Cregan.

"Dad?! Aunt Gilliane?! Someone?!" I rush through the front door of the cabin only to be met with the sight of my father and Cregan's mother both dead on the floor.

"Mom!" Cregans voice breaks.

"No, no, no, no, no!" I crumble to the floor fists pounding into the floor. A scream I don't recognize as mine escapes my throat as Cregan walks back outside. The tears fall each soaking the wood flooring as I ball my fist staring at the bodies of two people I cared for deeply. They were supposed to be fine! They should have been fine!

I feel arms wrap around me, I try to fight against whoever it is. I can't leave them! They pick me up and carry me outside the front door.

"No! I can't leave them, they can't be alone!"

Aemond holds my face in his hands as he quietly tells me to breathe, "Come on Y/n take a deep breathe in, you're gonna pass out if you don't breathe,"

"Shh, Y/n/n, you're safe," Aegon whispers into my ear. It was him who grabbed me. Aemond must have sent him.

"M—my dad and Aunt Gilliane, th-there gone," I blubber as tears and snot fall down my face.

I look to my left and see cregan on the ground being comforted by Heleana and Alicent. I can feel my racing heart in my ears, it's all too much. Too much. I release a shuddering breath, I can faintly hear Aegon and Aemond saying my name before everything goes dark.

I awake in a bed, my head hurts and everything is fuzzy. I turn my head when I hear the bedroom door open.

"Oh Y/n," he rushes in, pulling me into his chest. Soon the memories come back to me and the tears return. I cry into his shoulder, my hands run up his back and grab fistfuls of his shirt as he kisses my head. I feel safe here in his arms.

“My dad, what happened? Where did you move him too?” I pull out of his shoulder, my voice is weak and fragile.

“We moved him and your aunt out to the, we’ve buried them alongside your mother, and Cregan’s father and sister. It looked like a biter got them, it seems like they both wanted to go out on their own terms,”

“Where’s Cregan? I have to see him, he—oh god,” I cover my mouth with my hand.

“He’s fine, Heleana is looking after him as we speak, just as I am with you,” he says as he pulls out a bottle of water and a granola bar from the bag he brought in, “here you need to eat.”

I gently take said food from him, only now realizing how hungry I actually am and the fact that my headache wasn’t just from sobbing but from hunger as well, “how long was I out for?” I sip the water.

“About three hours, while you were out we found a breach in the property fences, however we’ve secured it, we’ve also seen some wild life,” Aemond speaks as a true leader, you smile at him. Slowly leaning in, you kiss him gently.

“Woah, what was that for?” A dopey smile appears on his handsome face.

“For being here, protecting me, taking charge. Everything honestly. Without you I think I may have offed myself the moment I saw my dad.” I say while reaching for his hand.

“Well it’s because I love you,” he says while placing his hands on my cheeks and pulling me back into a kiss that makes my head spin. I lean back down and pull him on top.

“I love you Aemond, so much” I say as I feel him press against me, “Take me away for a little while, to a place only we know.” I pull my shirt over my head, tossing it to the side just as Aemond does the same.

A few hours later we both lay bare in my room, I draw shapes into chest as he runs his fingers through my hair.

“We can survive this, we’ll be safe here. We can rebuild and reinforce the gates and make them higher. We have food, water, guns. This will be a safe haven for us.” I say as I look up at Aemond.

“Yes, that sounds like a wonderful plan. But for now, it’s been an eventful evening, so sleep. Aegon and Jace are taking the first watch. I’ll take the next so when you wake I may not be in bed with you.” He says as he kisses my forehead.

“I love you,” I say snuggling closer to him and listening to the sound of his heart beat as it pulls me into a deep slumber.

“I love you more, my sweetling” he says into my hair.

A/n: wow only 1 part left!! This was such a fun series to make! I hope you all enjoy this one!!

Tag list: @anaisbambia @valeskafics @wanderingcl0ud @dothrckis

[philiproy1]

What Are the Benefits of Choosing Maven Mechanics Lehi for Auto Repair in Lehi, Utah?

When your vehicle requires maintenance or repair, selecting a reliable auto repair shop is crucial to ensuring your car's longevity and performance. For residents in Lehi, Utah, Maven Mechanics Lehi has emerged as a leading provider of top-quality auto repair services. In this blog post, we will explore the numerous benefits of choosing Maven Mechanics Lehi for your auto repair needs and highlight why they are the best choice for "auto repair in Lehi, Utah."

1. Expert Technicians with Extensive Experience

One of the primary benefits of choosing Maven Mechanics Lehi is their team of expert technicians. Each mechanic has extensive experience and training in automotive repair. Their deep understanding of various vehicle makes and models ensures that they can diagnose and fix any issue efficiently and accurately. This expertise is especially important in providing top-notch auto repair in Lehi, Utah, where residents expect high-quality service.

2. Comprehensive Range of Services

Maven Mechanics Lehi offers a wide range of auto repair services to meet all your vehicle's needs. From routine maintenance like oil changes and tire rotations to more complex repairs such as engine diagnostics and transmission services, they have you covered. Their comprehensive service offerings make them a one-stop shop for all things related to auto repair in Lehi, Utah.

3. State-of-the-Art Diagnostic Equipment

Modern vehicles are equipped with advanced technology that requires specialized diagnostic tools. Maven Mechanics Lehi invests in state-of-the-art diagnostic equipment to accurately identify issues and perform precise repairs. This commitment to using the latest technology ensures that your vehicle receives the best care possible.

4. Mobile Auto Mechanic Services

For those times when you can't bring your vehicle to the shop, Maven Mechanics Lehi offers convenient mobile auto mechanic services. This service is particularly beneficial for busy individuals or those with non-operational vehicles. With their mobile auto mechanic near me service, you can have a qualified technician come to your location and perform necessary repairs or maintenance on-site.

5. Specialized Brake Repair and Service

Brake maintenance is crucial for your safety on the road. Maven Mechanics Lehi specializes in brake repair and service, offering thorough inspections, repairs, and replacements to ensure your braking system is in optimal condition. Their brake repair near me service ensures that you can get quick and reliable brake repairs when you need them most.

6. High-Quality Parts and Materials

Using high-quality parts and materials is essential for the durability and performance of your vehicle. Maven Mechanics Lehi is committed to using only the best parts for all repairs and replacements. This dedication to quality ensures that your vehicle will run smoothly and efficiently after every service.

7. Exceptional Customer Service

At Maven Mechanics Lehi, customer satisfaction is a top priority. Their friendly and professional staff are dedicated to providing exceptional customer service. From the moment you walk in the door or call for mobile services, you will be treated with respect and care. They take the time to explain repairs and maintenance needs in detail, ensuring you understand every aspect of the service provided.

8. Transparent Pricing and Honest Estimates

Unexpected car repairs can be stressful, especially when it comes to cost. Maven Mechanics Lehi offers transparent pricing and honest estimates, so you know exactly what to expect. They provide detailed breakdowns of all charges and ensure there are no hidden fees. This transparency helps build trust and confidence in their services.

9. Convenient Location and Hours

Convenience is a significant factor when choosing an auto repair shop. Maven Mechanics Lehi's strategic location in Lehi, Utah, makes it easy for local residents to access their services. Additionally, they offer flexible hours to accommodate busy schedules, ensuring you can get the repairs you need when it's most convenient for you.

10. Preventative Maintenance Plans

Regular maintenance is key to preventing costly repairs down the road. Maven Mechanics Lehi offers preventative maintenance plans tailored to your vehicle's specific needs. These plans include regular check-ups, fluid changes, tire rotations, and more, helping to keep your car in peak condition and avoid unexpected breakdowns.

11. Environmental Responsibility

Maven Mechanics Lehi is committed to environmentally responsible practices. They ensure that all waste materials, such as oil, batteries, and tires, are disposed of properly and recycled when possible. By choosing Maven Mechanics Lehi, you are supporting a company that cares about the environment and implements sustainable practices.

12. Strong Community Reputation

A company’s reputation speaks volumes about the quality of its services. Maven Mechanics Lehi has built a strong reputation within the Lehi community for their exceptional auto repair services. Positive reviews and testimonials from satisfied customers highlight their commitment to excellence and customer satisfaction.

13. Licensed and Insured

For your peace of mind, Maven Mechanics Lehi is fully licensed and insured. This certification ensures that they adhere to all local regulations and industry standards. Knowing that you are working with a licensed and insured company provides an added layer of confidence in their services.

14. Continuous Training and Education

The automotive industry is constantly evolving, with new technologies and repair techniques emerging regularly. Maven Mechanics Lehi invests in continuous training and education for their technicians. This commitment to staying updated with the latest advancements ensures that they can provide the best possible service for your vehicle.

15. Emergency Repair Services

Car troubles can happen at the most inconvenient times. Maven Mechanics Lehi offers emergency repair services to address urgent issues promptly. Their team is ready to respond quickly and efficiently, ensuring that you can get back on the road as soon as possible.

16. Customized Solutions for Unique Needs

Every vehicle and driver have unique needs. Maven Mechanics Lehi provides customized solutions tailored to your specific requirements. Whether you have a classic car that needs special care or a modern vehicle with advanced features, they can provide the right services to meet your needs.

17. Educational Resources for Car Owners

Maven Mechanics Lehi believes in empowering car owners with knowledge. They offer educational resources and tips on their website and in-person to help you understand your vehicle better. This information can help you make informed decisions about maintenance and repairs, ultimately extending the life of your car.

18. Commitment to Excellence

Excellence is a core value at Maven Mechanics Lehi. They strive to exceed customer expectations with every service, ensuring that you are completely satisfied with the results. Their commitment to excellence sets them apart as a leading provider of auto repair in Lehi, Utah.

19. Flexible Payment Options

Understanding that auto repairs can be a significant expense, Maven Mechanics Lehi offers flexible payment options. This flexibility allows you to manage the cost of repairs in a way that fits your budget, ensuring you can get the necessary services without financial strain.

20. Advanced Repair Techniques

Using advanced repair techniques is essential for ensuring the longevity and performance of your vehicle. Maven Mechanics Lehi stays at the forefront of the industry by incorporating the latest repair methods and technologies. This approach ensures that your vehicle receives the best possible care.

Conclusion

Choosing Maven Mechanics Lehi for your auto repair needs offers numerous benefits, from expert technicians and comprehensive services to high-quality parts and exceptional customer service. Their commitment to transparency, convenience, and excellence makes them the ideal choice for auto repair in Lehi, Utah.

For reliable and professional auto repair services, contact Maven Mechanics Lehi at 801-210-9233. Let them help you keep your vehicle in top condition with their expert care and comprehensive service offerings.

Maven Mechanics Lehi is dedicated to providing top-notch service for all your automotive needs. When you choose Maven Mechanics Lehi, you’re choosing a company that will provide the “auto repair in Lehi, Utah” service with professionalism and expertise.

[landofzero-archive]

Absolute - To Abhor the Impure World 11

(Location: Michigan Townscape)

Jun: Haaah~…… The world is way too confusing.

NEGI: “It’s relatively common in this country. Absolute is the flashier one, but there are others where people hit each other with cars, and I heard that there are a lot of abandoned cars once the competition’s over.”

Hiyori: What would possess people to do that?

NEGI: “It’s insane. But that’s what makes it so interesting, you see.

Art can only be born from madness, I guess.”

Hiyori: Madness, huuh. We don’t have enough of that, do we?

Jun: It’s true that we always perform perfectly according to Ibara’s carefully thought out plans.

And that’s why unexpected things rarely happen.

But with Ibara, I’d like to see him break out of his shell and spread his wings, rather than staying stuck in his own expectations.

Hiyori: Ibara, even though he gets angry when we act unexpectedly and selfishly.

Jun: Ahaha. If he found out we’re walking around outside like this, he’d probably get angry.

Hiyori: Probably. I hate Ibara’s lectures since he just drones on and on and on, so let’s get this all settled before he finds out.

NEGI-chan. You said there might be clues at this Absolute venue—

NEGI: “I don’t have any proof though. The performers in Absolute essentially work individually, unlike ES with its unit system.”

Hiyori: The super idols that have already become obsolete in Japan are still mainstream, huh.

NEGI: “Yes. The same goes for Shaka, who, officially, is working as an individual.

But in reality, many staff members work together to create the stage— including a large number of backup dancers and a special effects team.”

Hiyori: It’s the same way in Japan. Behind the sparkling, shining sun, there’s a large number of staff supporting us.

NEGI: “Yes. And talented people are in high demand everywhere, and some of them work with Shaka while also helping other performers.

But then, Shaka disappeared. But not all of the people involved with him disappeared with him.

There’s a chance that one of them may know where Shaka is.

It’s a classic trope in mystery novels, it’s not that easy to erase a human being from existence.

There must be an accomplice who is guiding him or acting as a diversion in order to mislead the investigation.”

Hiyori: So the idea is to figure out Shaka-san’s whereabouts from that perspective.

However, since we don’t know who is involved in this incident, it seems like it’s going to be a pain to go around asking questions.

NEGI: “That’s true. But I know quite a bit about Shaka’s friendships, so I have a good idea of who it may be.

From here on out, I’m going to contact each of these people and ask them about it.

It’s straightforward work and disheartening, but I can’t think of anything else I can do right now.”

Jun: The fortress-like place where Shaka-san was being protected is on high alert.

It had an atmosphere that I couldn’t even get close to~. On-site verification isn’t possible, either.

Hiyori: I don’t think we would be able to find any clues even if we inspected the scene, no matter if we were detectives or not.

We just have to try our best and do everything we can.

I don’t really like that kind of uncouth stuff.

It can’t be helped, though. It’s for Nagisa-kun’s sake.

Jun: Well, we still don’t know whether Nagi-senpai has something to do with Shaka-san’s disappearance, y’know~. He could be back at the hotel by now.

He was just taking a morning walk, or something. Like he usually does, in his carefree way.

Hiyori: Yeah. It would’ve been nice if it had been a “we didn’t know that and had just been wandering every which way of our own accord” kind of disappointing punchline.

However, until we reach the truth, we can’t be optimistic.

Jun: Gotcha. At worst, Nagi-senpai’s life is at risk.

NEGI: “I agree. Let’s do our best. And for that reason, I need your cooperation.”

Jun: But we’ve said it a bunch of times already, we’re not detectives or anything, y’know~? Can we even be of any use?

NEGI: “But you guys are performing in Absolute, right? If you didn’t have that position, we wouldn’t be able to enter the staff’s tent village.

See, it would be a problem if fans could come in without permission and come in contact with the performers and staff.

This city is usually unsafe, so these kinds of security measures have been put in place.”

Hiyori: I see. So we’re like key cards necessary to enter areas that are normally off-limits to outsiders.

NEGI: “Something like that. Of course, to you there’s basically only foreigners here, so they don’t understand Japanese—

I’ll be the one to interrogate any shady people.”

Hiyori: I can also speak English to some extent since it’s necessary for socializing.

Jun: …… I don’t think I’ll be too useful in that area, so I’ll keep an eye on our surroundings, okay~?

NEGI: “Alright. Then, just like that—

I’ll get to the dirty work. I can’t stand having the biggest idols in ES do something like that♪”

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[markusium]

The Darkness Archives

hey everbody! this is my first posts on this site and ive decided to create a small story of about 10 tapes, hope you like it, if theres any questions or some reccomendations i am welcome to asnwer

Welcome to MARS OS ENTER TAPE … LOAD TAPE 01? No > Yes LOADING…

TAPE 01 X.XX.2046

0800 HOURS: A local police station in Sweden near the city of XXXXXX received reports of a shootout in a cabin 34KM away. As no other police stations were active or near, a small group of three police cars and 6 police officers went to inspect the cabin.

0845 HOURS: The police arrived at the crime scene. No signs of a shootout were spotted, and the cabin appeared to have been long since abandoned. They decided to search the area for anything suspicious.

0913 HOURS: They found a foot trail leading into the forest. Following it for some time, they reached a point where the sky rapidly darkened, and communication was cut off. Suspecting it was just the forest, they pressed on.

0940 HOURS: A member wandered off, and before the officers noticed, he was gone. Assuming he had returned to the cars (as he was the newest and a coward), they continued. The sky now seemed like midnight, with complete darkness.

12:40 HOURS: NOTE: The recordings were lost from 9:40 until 12:40. The officers were running back in a hurry; only three remained, with one leaving and two dead. They ran, and the sky began to lighten, but before they returned, they encountered it—a creature resembling a wolf but larger and completely black, a darkness never seen before. Without its natural camouflage (the darkness), the officers fired. It seemed to resist, but after approximately 67 shots, it fell. One of the three police officers was critically injured and would not have survived if not for the help of the cowardly police officer who returned (NOTE: he used to work at the hospital). They returned to one single car and drove off.

1310 HOURS: Communication was restored, and the station attempted to gather news, but received no response. Realizing that the car had taken a wrong turn, the station dispatched a helicopter to locate them.

1450 HOURS: After the helicopter commenced its search, it discovered tire marks and a damaged car deep within the forest. Upon landing and summoning medics, they examined the police officers. Shockingly, two of the officers had no eyes, just voids where their eyes should have been, with their noses and mouths also missing. The third officer, who had been critically injured, miraculously survived. The two officers without eyes had recordings on them, providing crucial information obtained during their ordeal.

END OF TAPE 01

LOADING TAPE...

[viceroy-transporter]

Winning Bid to Your Driveway: Auto Auction Car Shipping

Auto Auction: What to do and how to get your car shipped from after winning an action bid.

Auto auctions are exciting events where you can find great deals on a wide range of vehicles, from everyday sedans to luxury cars and rare classics. Once you've successfully bid on your dream car, the next step is getting your vehicle safely shipped from the auction site to your home. At Viceroy Auto Transport, we specialize in making this process seamless and stress-free for our customers.

Here's what you need to know:

Secure Your Vehicle:

Before the auction, it's crucial to research the vehicles you're interested in and set a budget for bidding. Once you've won the auction, promptly notify the auction house of your purchase and arrange for payment and vehicle release. Ensure you have all necessary paperwork, including the vehicle title and bill of sale, to expedite the pickup process.

Choose a Reliable Transport Partner:

Selecting the right auto transport company is key to ensuring your vehicle arrives safely and on time. Viceroy Auto Transport offers dependable shipping services tailored to your needs, whether you require open auto transport or enclosed auto transport, domestic or international shipping, or expedited delivery options.

Request a Quote:

Contact Viceroy Auto Transport to request a quote for shipping your vehicle from the auction site to your home. Provide details such as the vehicle make and model, pickup and delivery locations, and any special requirements you may have. Our team will provide you with a competitive quote and personalized shipping plan.

Schedule Pickup:

Once you've accepted the quote and finalized the shipping arrangements, our logistics experts will work with you to schedule the pickup of your vehicle from the auction site. We'll coordinate with the auction house to ensure a smooth and efficient pickup process, minimizing any delays or complications.

Receive Your Vehicle:

When your vehicle arrives at its destination, our professional drivers will carefully unload it and perform a thorough inspection to ensure it's in the same condition as when it was picked up. You'll have the opportunity to inspect the vehicle yourself and sign off on the delivery before our team departs once payment is completed.

Enjoy Your New Ride:

With Viceroy Auto Transport, getting your vehicle from the auction to your home is hassle-free, allowing you to focus on enjoying your new ride. Whether you've purchased a classic car for restoration, a luxury vehicle for daily driving, or a unique find for your collection, we'll ensure it reaches you safely and securely.

At Viceroy Auto Transport, we understand the excitement of purchasing a vehicle at auction and the importance of reliable shipping services to bring your new purchase home. With our expertise and dedication to customer satisfaction, we're here to make the process simple and straightforward, so you can start enjoying your new ride with peace of mind.

Contact us today to learn more about our auto transport services and how we can help you get your vehicle from the auction to your doorstep.