#poor sun got exposed to the internet

[kandidandi]

[vminizzle]

Reflection

pairing : husband!jungkook x f.reader

genre : SMUT, fluff

warnings : marking, praising, pet names, they’re in love huh, penetration, unprotected sex, love making, mirror sex, creampie

words count : 1.7k

A/N : hello lovely people, well husband!jungkook is such a thing gosh, I had to write this. ngl, I got turned on while writing this. The idea was prob better in my head? !POOR ENGLISH! anyways, I hope you guys will like it. Have a nice day everyone. -sunny

FEEDBACKS ARE VERY WELCOMED

M RATED

“here we are!” Jungkook exclaimed happily as he opened the big doors.

You both entered the beautiful villa you booked for the week-end. Jungkook walked beside you, holding his suitcase in one hand, his other hand on your lower back as you walked further through the villa.

You looked around you, admiring the decorations adorning the living room’s tables and walls. It looked so expensive. You had a good view of the pool situated in the garden from the sliding glazed door. The water seemed so clear as the bright sun reflected into it. The water was probably warm, comfortable to swim. Flowers, transats were arranged on the beige tiled floor around the pool. It was just so beautiful. Dream house perhaps?

“what about a midnight bath later, huh?” your husband said teasingly making you roll your eyes.

You walked towards the stairs and went upstairs, Jungkook helping you with your suitcase carrying it for you.

As you opened the bedroom’s doors you were welcomed by the type of large well-decorated and modern bedroom you only see on the internet or in rich people’s in movies. Your eyes sparkled as you approched the floor to ceiling windows, looking outside you could have a great view of the big backyard.

You turned to Jungkook, this one already looking at you smiling softly. You smiled widely as you walked back to him to hug him tightly. “thank you!”

He pecked your forehead gently “everything for my wife."

You smiled before sitting on the edge of the bed.

“You know you look really good in that black shirt.” you smirked as he approached you.

“and y’know you look so so good in that dress.” he smirked before separating your crossed legs so he can stand in-between them.

“you’d look even better without it.” he caressed your warm cheeks softly before kneeling down in front of you, letting his hands rest on your exposed thighs.

You looked down at him, the way he stared straight into your eyes made you avert his gaze.

“look at me love.” he ordered with a gentle voice.

You shook your head, too shy to face him.

Jungkook chuckled before grabbing your chin gently turning your head but you closed your eyes before making eye contact.

This time, he laughed making you smiled “open your eyes pretty please don’t be shy."

You opened your eyes “happy?” you mumbled a little pout making its appearance on your lips.

Jungkook placed his hand on your hip as he lowered his head a bit to place a little kiss on your thigh making you shiver at the sudden contact. His lips looked so soft against your skin.

You bit your bottom lip as he started kissing higher pushing your dress up slowly. He hummed satisfied against your skin as you tangled your fingers into his soft hair.

“Jungkook.” you whispered making him lift his head to look at you “kiss me."

“gladly.”

You lowered your body enough to be face to face with him. You put your hand on his cheek before connecting your lips together. His lips were definitively the softest thing on earth. You moaned softly into the kiss as he sucked on your bottom lips gently. He got up not breaking the kiss, making you back up on the bed, laying you down gently before hovering over you.

“you look so pretty like that under me.” he licked his lip admiring your flustered face, placing one of his hand on your waist but he noticed how distracted you were, something else grabbed your attention.

Jungkook tilted his head on the side curiously before finally looking up to the ceiling. There it was..

The infamous mirror ceiling. just. above. the. bed.

“damn.” he whistled rolling on his back next to you.

"that’s a pretty big mirror.” he said before smirking.

You knew he had something not-so-holy in mind, you cursed internally ready to hear what he had to say.

“you know mirrors are so cool.” he started making you sigh.

“and also really useful in many ways. You know what can be cool right now?” he pursed his lips.

You played with your fingers nervously, humming so he could continue.

He turned on his side, placing one hand on your belly before talking again.

“how about I make love to you while you watch us huh? see how pretty you look when you’re under me as I pleasure you. Would you love that, my love?” he whispered into your ear before nibbling on your earlobe making goosebumps raised on your skin, your body heating up at his words making you close your legs as you felt this familiar sensation down there.

Your lips parted, no words ready to escaped from your mouth. Just the thought made your heartbeats picked up the pace, picturing the scene in your head made you feel dizzy. Jungkook smirked at your current state, knowing the effect his words had on you.

“close your mouth, you’re literally drooling honey.” he laughed.

You rolled your eyes. “don’t say non-sense.”

“I guess it’s a yes?” he asked to be sure you were consented. You nodded shyly making him smile at how cute you were.

He sat up on the bed pulling you up with him, his hands finding their places on your sides “can I?” he gestured pulling on the hem of you dress.

“yes.” you answered lifting your arms up so he could easily pull it off of you.

He threw the clothe on the floor, his eyes now wandered on your lace-covered body “so beautiful.” He bit his bottom lip, his pants getting uncomfortably tight as his fingertips were sliding slowly over the lacy bra. You wearing lingerie being one of his weakness and biggest turn on.

You timidly reached up to unbutton his shirt, popping a button one by one slowly.

You got rid of his shirt discarding it on the floor as you kept your eyes on his well built body "you staring“ Jungkook said teasingly.

You closed your eyes embarrassed, not wanting to look at him anymore.

He came closer, you could felt his presence, he was so close. He finally kissed you, his lips envelopping yours into a loving kiss. You placed your arms around his neck pulling him closer to you.

Your husband gently pushed you on your back as he hovered above you, his strong arms on each sides of your head "i love you.” he whispered looking down at you with so much love.

"i love you Jungkook” you caressed his cheek.

He lowered himself, burying his face into the crook of your neck as he started leaving little wet kisses making you turned your head to the side giving him more access. His tattooed hand started cascading down your body, caressing your side as he reached your panties pulling it down your legs.

Making out while undressing each other, you suddenly thought about what he said earlier, making you glance at mirror above you. Your bare bodies coming into your vision making you gulp.

You moaned softly as you felt him pressing against you.

“Jungkook” you whined as he teased your entrance with the tip of his cock.

He kissed you as you pulled him on you, his chest against yours. He placed one your leg over his waist, ruting foward against your core making you moan loudly “stop teasing!”

He rubbed his erection between your glistening lips. “you ready baby?”

You nodded eagerly. He entered you slowly making sure to not hurt you. You threw your head back in the pillows gripping on his shoulders as he bottomed out.

“don’t forget what i told you baby. Look up and watch.” he licked your jawline before sucking softly on the skin leaving loving marks.

You rolled your eyes as the pleasure started consuming you. You tried to look up, the view makimg you clench around him.

“f-fuck baby! do you like what you see? huh? you like the way I take you?” he groaned into your neck.

His grip on your thigh tightened as he adjusted it higher on his hip the new position helping him hit deeper. “you feel so good princess.”

Your nails started forming little crescents on his back as you held him close. The way his back muscles flexed everytime he moved made you weak. 

You arched your back off the bed as he hit deeper “Ah Jungkook! I’m so close!” you cried out.

Jungkook suddenly rolled on his back placing you on top of him “ride me my love."

He looked up at you as he placed his arm behind him to support his head and one hand resting on top of your thigh.

You planted your hands on his chest to keep your balance as you started moving. “fuck yea that’s it! keep going baby!” he moaned deeply.

He looked up at the ceiling smirking, the reflection of you on top of him making him growled “you look so hot like that."

You whimpered as he gripped your hips making you move faster.

“I’m so fucking close!” he bit his bottom lip the flesh turning white as you picked up the pace, your climax getting closer and closer.

His fingernails were digging into your sides as he helped you moving. “I’m coming!” you moaned loudly making Jungkook groaned as you kept on clenching around him pushing him over the edge of his own orgasm.

He came inside you, his warm cum filling you up to the brim, your name sweetly passing by his lips as he closed his eyes shut enjoying your warmth around him.

You let your body collapsed on top of him, burying your head into his neck as you left a soft kiss on the sweaty skin. He caressed your sides before capturing you in a hug “you were so good my love”.

He pulled out as you roll next to him letting one of your leg rest on his thin waist. He laid his hand there, stroking the smooth skin “look at how hot you are” he pointed up to the mirror.

You whined embarrassed, hiding your face onto his sweaty chest. Jungkook’s eyes stayed on your bodies, admiring how you completed each other. He was staring at your figure lovingly.

After a few minutes, he whispered an" i love you“ and kissed your forehead gently realizing that you fell asleep into his arms.

—

A/N : guys, i think it’s definitely one of my fav writings. I mean, I feel like it’s not that bad!! And gosh, I have feelings for Jungkook. I need to marry him! ahah.. thanks for reading ~

[stoneworldsimp]

cry, cry again

senku x reader

warnings: swearing

“you remind me of this one song from the modern world.”

senku hummed in response, putting his arm around you as you both sat up against the large tree. you leaned closer to his chest. the sun was disappearing from the sky, the last moments of sharp light hitting your eyes. if you peered higher, you saw the stars peek out.

“ever since our first kiss, i just hear that song when i’m with you. like your own theme song.”

he snickered,”sounds like something you’d think about.” senku looked down and kissed your forehead. “what was the song?”

“you probably won’t know it, but it’s a song that’s from the late 60’s..1960’s i mean. have you ever heard of the mamas and the papas?”

“i haven’t.”

“okay, so.. the first couple of lyrics remind me of you. especially on warm nights and clear skies like right now. it goes, uhm, ‘stars shining bright above you; night breezes seem to whisper, i love you; birds singin’ in the sycamore tree; dream a little dream of me...’ whenever we’re alone like this...i just think about that part a lot.”

senku didn’t reply; he softly squeezed your arm. oh god, he hated that didn’t he..

awkward silence ensued for what felt like forever.

it was a pretty vulnerable moment, even for you; you missed home, you missed your old life so much you felt like you were trapped in your own mental slideshow of the past. you didn’t like to share your thoughts most of the time, even with senku, because what good would it do to talk about a life that didn’t exist anymore?

but sharing music, god, you missed sharing music the modern way. the normal way. you sang songs you remembered to yourself, but it only filled a tiny piece of the hole in your heart; it didn’t even do any song justice, anyway. it was so easy to put in a cd, to find an album on the internet to share back then. it was awful how something so impactful was so easily wiped out.

in a poor attempt to save what you thought was a failed conversation, you laughed nervously and said,”was it bad? sorry you had to hear me sing. if i—“

“don’t apologize,” he said. you reached for his outer hand; he met you halfway, slotting his fingers through yours. he sat up slightly, wordlessly asking you to face him. “it was nice. cringy.. but nice after i thought about it—“

you pushed him to the side in disbelief, laughing while you exclaimed,”how dare you call my verbal love and affection cringy! i’ll whoop your ass!”

senku rolled on the ground away from you. you caught up and laughed even harder when you heard his voice reach a few octaves higher than the normal pitch as he yelled,”no, no- OKAY, it was lovely and sweet, i promise!”

“thank you,” you sang. once your laughter had died down, you crawled over to him and sat down. he scooted his head to lay on your lap, the rest of his body laying out on the ground in front of you.

the sun had disappeared and a cool breeze passed through. cold fingertips brushed through senku’s hair, and felt warmth when they reached the back of his neck.

“i know it was a little silly, but i am glad you liked it. at least for the most part. sometimes, i feel like i just sink in my own memories. i think about songs that remind me of certain moments and people, and it makes me think of what they used to mean to me before we all turned to stone, and then i think about my entire life before turning to stone.. it’s been getting harder to climb out of all of it, if that makes sense.”

“how come you haven’t talked about it before? it could help you feel better,” senku replied.

“i don’t know,” your fingers slowed to a stop,“i feel like you’d say..” i don’t know, that i shouldn’t dwell on the past? i should focus on everything happening right now, it wouldn’t make sense to sit and sulk about things that can’t be changed? even with the creation of instruments, it would take eternities upon eternities to get the evolution of music at the level of where it used to be, before the stone age?

you hesitated to continue. though the natural light was dimming, senku’s eyes on yours were crystal clear. you looked away before muttering,”i don’t know.”

senku reached up and took your hand in his. he gently kissed the top of it before holding it against his cheek. he closed his eyes and kissed your thumb seconds later. “i’m sorry if you felt like you couldn’t open up to me. i understand how you feel. i myself am a little.. hesitant, to even think about the past, because i feel like it’ll consume me, too. we’ve got a whole kingdom of science to build, and i’m not a huge fan of getting distracted.” senku opened his eyes again; he took your other hand and placed it on the other side of his face. “maybe it’d feel good to expose ourselves and reminisce like this. but let’s do it privately, so nobody else can butt in.” he sighed as he sandwiched your hands between his own and his cheeks in an effort to warm them.

forcing away a skeptical look, you asked,“you’d listen to all the albums i wanna talk about? all the artists and musicians from every era, even when i sing them to you?”

he smiled. “i’ll listen to you if you listen to me.”

you bent down, giving him a kiss on his cheek and then lips. the two of you talked and talked, and soon you felt the beams of sunlight hit your eyes again.

you’re right, senku; it feels really good to let it out.

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Chizuru Town (Part 1)

In the game you wake up on the beach in Chizuru with NO IDEA how you got there.

I have a little fun with it. Enjoy!

“MC!”

The children’s voices were happy and oddly squeaky. They draw you out of unconsciousness. Your body feels a bit cold, and you shiver. 

“MC!” They keep calling you. You’re lying face up but their hands are pressed against your back. They keep pushing you from below.

You take a breath and feel the cold shock of water up your nose. The choking sensation makes you want to bolt upright but something is holding you up on the surface of the water. You catch a glimpse of silver grey, rubbery skin. A thin slit in that skin opens and sprays a mist with a sharp whoosh. The children’s voices are replaced by the squealing and whistling of dolphins.

Dolphins! Their sharp pointed fins are cutting through the water. You can see their bright eyes turn to look up at you. The way their mouths curve in their snouts gives them a smile. But they were powerful, insistent creatures. The moment you tried to swim on your own, they pushed you out of the water again.

The salt water in your mouth, the frigid breeze against your sun warmed skin told you this wasn’t a dream. You’d heard stories of dolphins rescuing people before, but you’d never actually thought you’d get to experience being carried on these muscular bodies. 

There were more surrounding you. Their sparkling backs broke the surface, no doubt watching. One eventually peeled off and another replaced them and you realized they were taking turns carrying you along. The sun was about halfway across the sky now and you could see the sparkling white sand of a small beach. The beach was only a few yards wide before it hit the seawall. You could climb up the seawall by what looked like stairs that led to a main street.

You gather your arms about yourself. What little clothing had survived the ghost tooth dragon vipers was torn away by the water and water-born debris. You were completely naked. You already were in the country illegally. You couldn’t imagine what would happen if you just showed up completely exposed like this. But how would you get any clothing?

The dolphins didn’t care about this at all. They pressed forward. If they knew anything about humans, it was that humans belonged on land and, for whatever reason, they had made it their mission to get you to the land as soon as possible. They pushed you with their snouts so hard you thought you might bruise and swam so quickly, you formed a wake in the water. You were already weak from fatigue and dehydration. There was no way you could fight them.

So you are pushed like a buoy towards the shore. When the water got too shallow the dolphins were forced to turn back or risk beaching themselves. Still, they swam a close distance away. Your body was shaking at a steady constant rate and the warm sand was irresistible. You lay down and sigh.

After a bit of rest, you pick a shadier spot against the wall, out of the sun and hopefully out of the prying eyes of people walking by. The dolphins follow you, spy hopping and watching. This was all so surreal.

You were supposed to be dead.

Again.

When you were younger, you read a book about a world where there was almost no difference between heaven, hell, and the living world. People died and woke up again to a place they found familiar and only vaguely strange. The book was deliberately unsettling, meant to blur the line between reality and dreams. The protagonist wasn’t sure if he was still alive, in heaven, or in hell, and the reader was not to know either until the end.

You’re feeling this way now. You thought you had died in the Arctic ocean, only to be thrown into a chaotic dragonslaying academy. Now you thought you died, only to wake up to a school of dolphins after nearly getting eaten by a dragon.

How are you alive after all that has happened? Maybe you weren’t alive. Maybe this was hell and you were suffering multiple deaths. The dolphins chattered brightly ahead of you, but now their sounds seemed more like they were mocking you, naked, on the sand alone, alive again with no friends.

There was no sign of Lu Mingfei, Chu Zihang or Caesar Gattuso. Were they saved by dolphins too? Or left to drown and be eaten? Was God only with you and not with them? Your mind starts to form an idea. You can test out this theory. Worst case scenario was that you died for real and you’d long since gotten over that fear.

You stand up and brush the sand off your bare bottom. You would take your time to rest and hide out until night fell and then use the dark to your advantage. 

Fatigue made you sleep longer than you wanted. Darkness has truly fallen when you wake up, stiff and achy. A greyish mat of sand has stuck to your whole body. You look back towards the ocean, but the dolphins are gone. You waddle out on wobbly legs and wash the sand away. After so much time in the water, the feel of it on your skin was suddenly abhorrent and you would be happy if you never spent another day in the ocean as long as you lived.

The theory that you’re actually dead and none of this was real was again challenged by how hard it was to make it up the stairs. You were so exhausted, starving and dehydrated that you swayed. You’d give anything for a bowl of hot ramen, served up fresh with a bit of egg floating on top.

You heard a voice cry out. A young couple was out for a stroll and had spotted you. You must look like a monster, hair long and matted and no clothes at all. Sure enough, they back away moaning with trembling voices before turning to run off, screaming something you can’t understand. Further up towards the street, you see bright lights. The smell of vendors cooking street food makes your stomach rumble. You couldn’t be out in the open, but maybe if you got close enough, you could dumpster dive and find some clothes. You sneak behind the back of the nearest building, a stucco box with a small front yard. The young man of the couple returns with a few other people. He’s speaking breathlessly, pointing towards the ocean. Poor guy. No doubt he thought he’d seen some ghost girl come from the ocean. This is probably something that would traumatize him for life.

You hear a small noise next to you. A little black cat is pawing at you. You could barely see it in the shadows. It didn’t care that you weren’t wearing clothes. Its fur was soft and warm and its purrs were comforting. You run your hand over its head and ears and it crawls into your lap. You would have liked to own a cat someday. You always liked them. They were funny and cute and very affectionate like this one. When you raise your eyes, your heart leaps. There are clothes hanging on a clothesline from a house not too far away!

You scramble quickly towards it, careful not to step on anything that might make noise. You check every gap to make sure that no one can see you. Then as soon as you reach the clothing, you carefully yank it off the line. It was just one of the local school uniforms. The white button down top was a bit small, but the wine-colored skirt fits you just fine around the waist. You were only a bit older than Renata when she died so this was probably the outfit of a highschool student.

Your eyes fall on the back door of the house. That’s right, Japanese don’t wear shoes in the house. These shoes were laid out neatly on the rack. You glance around and carefully approach, snatching what you hope will fit you. They’re just the right size, much to your shock. This surprise is enough to send a jolt of happiness through you. Now clothed, you return to the cat and pick it up in your arms and walk out on the street. The first thing you saw was a sign that said, Chizuru.

Before arriving in Japan, Norma, the school AI had told you about a place called Chizuru being a safe haven and to find an Internet Cafe there if you ever got into trouble. The hairs rose on the back of your arms. How could this be possible that dolphins not only save your life, but take you directly to the place that you needed to be? You sang the song that said ‘God is with you’ but it was supposed to be a metaphor right? 

You approach a man on the street who looks at you with a stunned expression. “I… excuse…”

Before you can ask anything, he shakes his head again and again and flees from you. “Wait! I need…”

You try again, this time of one of the vendors, an old craggy-faced man who stares at you with a black expression until you give up.

Burned, you just decide to wander around until you see something that looks like an internet cafe. It wouldn’t be in a neighborhood. More likely closer to the city center, on a main street. You head that way, away from the beach and the houses. The city center seems much quieter than you would expect it to be. You stop.

A group of people are standing on the street, five men in black leather jackets displaying flaming Oni masks. One had a wild looking tall mohawk dyed red. His black jeans reached down to black leather boots studded with silver spikes. It was as if the black dragon that tried to eat you had turned human and walked on land.

He turned his head and spotted you. It was too late to hide. His eyes ran up and down the length of you and he grinned, and made a slow whistling noise. You may have been raised in an orphanage but you weren’t that naive to not know what that smile meant. You’d seen it before on some of the staff who liked to take advantage of the older girls there. 

So you didn’t need to know the vulgar words coming out of their mouth.  You set the kitten down on a nearby trash can and pat it on the head, quietly telling it to stay in Russian. The cat obliged, and started to clean its paws.

In the orphanage, you were taught hand to hand basics until you were strong enough to actually use it in a fight. The trainings were very light against each other and you weren’t allowed to cause injury, but there was no gender splitting. You were only hybrids. Whether you were male or female, it didn’t matter so long as you had dragonblood in your veins.

Because of your background, you didn’t show the same innocent fear that these men may have been accustomed to from someone your age, in that clothing. You stared them straight in the eyes, your arms at your side, not moving forward or back. This nonchalant attitude made them stand there in brief bewilderment. The one with the mohawk was clearly the bolder of the five and he shouted something at you that you don’t understand. You just shake your head.

“I need to find the Internet Café…” You make a gesture with your hands to pantomime typing at a computer. They started to laugh, elbowing each other and nodding. You sigh. You’re so tired and it showed on your face.

Your lack of Japanese and your weary expression was an invitation to attack and they approached you now.

In the orphanage, no one would approach you like this in such a joking manner. Especially not on the training grounds. The Mohawk’s hands were relaxed. He was confident. He wasn’t watching your hands ball into fists as tight as stones and he wasn’t watching the sudden shift in your feet as you moved into a sturdy stance. He reached out with his hand to your elbow. So he was unable to block or dodge your fist that struck him like lightning.

He didn’t just feel pain or stagger back. The man felt flat to his side, straight to the pavement, and he didn’t get up. The eyes of his four friends followed him down with a stunned feeling. You knew that feeling. Like they suddenly found themselves in a fantasy world where a high school girl in a school uniform could knock out a gangster with a single hit? 

Maybe this was a fantasy world and you were a fantasy high schooler. After all, you were carrying a cat!

They all turned to you in unison and you attacked the next one, levering back on one leg and slamming him with a kick to the solar plexus. He staggered back, wheezing, curling in on himself, once or twice.. 

The next one now had the wherewithal to produce a switchblade. He swung it wildly at where your heart should have been, but the blouse was a bit open where it was too tight and he caught a glimpse of the fact that you’re not wearing anything underneath. Your hand caught his wrist and you pulled hard, driving your knee directly into his crotch.

His grip on the knife released as he slowly sank to the ground and you swiped it easily. You give it a toss and catch it by the handle. Now the smile is on your face and there’s no pleasure in it as you stare down the final two gangsters.

One gives up and turns to run, arms pinwheeling comically as his oni mask jacket flapped in the breeze created by his own flight.

The last one was backing away, stumbling over his feet, crawling back upright. And when he does get up, you see something in his hand, shiny and black.

A gun. You hadn’t seen one in a while and you stopped. You couldn’t do anything about this. He just needed to pull the trigger and you were gone. But this was a world where you couldn’t die… right?

A man in a white shirt and black slacks leaped out from behind a car and a bright metal arc gave off sparks as it neatly cut the gun in half. Chu Zihang’s sword then rested its edge on the man’s throat

The man stared at his severed gun in silence a moment before he noticed the blade.

“Senpai!” You joyfully run forward and wrap your arms around Zihang.

Zihang looks bewildered, unsure of what to do. His free hand hovers over your shoulder… head… and then he settles on patting you on the back.

The man at his mercy is trembling in terror at the discovery that this warrior girl in a school uniform somehow has a ‘Senpai’ at all. His companions are already staggering away, one of them limping and bowlegged as he flees. 

Chu Zihang raised his hand and rubbed his thumb and fingers together in the universal sign for ‘money’. You stick his tongue out at him.

The man was quick to oblige, tossing him his wallet.  Chu Zihang lowered his sword. After examining the contents, he picked out a few bills and handed the man his wallet back but he was already running away.

“Were you just going to let him shoot you?” He asked.

You opened your mouth. “Yes… but!” You raise a finger to halt objections. “I knew something would happen to keep me from dying!”

Chu Zihang shook his head slowly. “Where’s Lu Mingfei and Caesar?”

Your expression sobers. “I don’t know. I was looking for the Internet Cafe…”

He walks over to a vending machine and puts in the money to buy you something to eat. You return to where the cat is resting on the trash can. “What a good kitty!” You whisper, ,gathering it up in your arms.

“You shouldn’t keep that.” The Machine is pouring out noodles with soup broth base. Your stomach rumbles and the cat meows.

“Is there something for Kitty?” You ask.

Chu Zihang sighs again. The man gave the whole wallet, after all. Chu Zihang orders some dried squid for the cat.

In a few moments both you and Kitty are sitting against the building. You’re so hungry that you scald your mouth on the soup, but you don't care. Chu Zihang is silent, still standing guard and watching. With your hunger sated, you look up at him. “You’re the team lead right?”

“Only if I find out Caesar is dead.”

“You think he’s alive? Do you want me to call you boss?”

“No.”

“Okay boss.”

You look up at him and he’s scowling at you, not in the mood for your jokes, or your kitten. “How did you survive?”

“You’re not going to believe this. A pod of dolphins brought me all the way here.”

Much to your surprise he believes you. “That’s true. The dolphins here are very friendly to the locals. In fact there was a story I read about that...”

There was a sudden cacophony of roaring engines. Chu Zihang grabs you and together you duck behind the parked cars. Motorcycles, dozens of them, are all roaring off in one direction, their lights streaming towards a single destination. Among them were vans filled with people with automatic weapons. Right after that, all the lights go out in Chizuru. From the tallest building, to the smallest house, even the lights illuminating the advertisements go dark. 

Chu Zihang sighed deep in his chest. “I have a bad feeling Caesar is that way.”

[sidehugsnsideblogs]

FCSU #47 The Trial

AN: I'm sorry if the trial part sounds inaccurate, I have no idea how trials work, I haven't been part of one since my parent's custody battle like 28 years ago.

Penny was working on a late night project when she heard a knock on the door. She opened it to find Becca Dawn standing there in her townie clothes. "You're here" she cried, "come in, is there anything I can get you?" Becca opened her mouth to say she just wanted to lie down but as the stepped inside her vision tunneled and she collapsed. Penny turned round and tried to catch her but she fell forward the hit the ground.

"What is going on?" Penny asked as Becca Dawn regained consciousness. She confided to her sister that she might be pregnant and listed her symptoms, her stomach often felt like it was full of lava, and occasionally she vomited small amounts of blood. She was confused because her cycle hadn't even had a chance to be late. "That doesn't really sound like morning sickness to me. I'm making you a doctor's appointment for tomorrow. We're getting to the bottom of this."

Becca Dawn's first visit to a real doctor was daunting but went well overall. He ordered bloodwork and didn't make her take off her clothes like Royce said townie doctors did. "Well you aren't pregnant." He said coming back into the room with the results. He asked her questions about her diet and lifestyle. Becca Dawn tried to be honest without giving away that she was a child bride. He eventually came to the conclusion that she was suffering from an ulcer induced by stress and poor nutrition. He prescribed some medication to coat her stomach lining so she could heal. Penny cooked her healthy meals to ease her stomach. With time and a proper diet, Becca began to recover.

Though her physical trauma healed she still bore psychic scars from her life in a cult. Penny tried to take her younger sister shopping for a new wardrobe several times but she kept retreating into the comfort of her prairie dresses. She did allow her sister to give her a haircut though. Penny did her best to support Becca Dawn, her own experience with deprogramming had been muddied by substance abuse and she had no intention of exposing her baby sister to the dark side of mainstream society.

Becca Dawn wanted to adjust slowly, starting by reading banned books, going on the internet and watching television. Penny even went back to her natural hair colour in solidarity with her sister. Penny wondered if she would have a better time adjusting if she made some friends so she introduced Becca Dawn to Yuki Behr, Candy's little sister. They got on well which brought Penny some hope.

Meanwhile, Royce's trial began and progressed quickly. The prosecution was doing their best to keep him from being released. They knew he'd disappear the second he had the chance. He spoke to Rachel as often as allowed and urged her to invite the faithful to attend his trial; as long as they were adults, of course. He wanted his people to witness a miracle: not only would he be found not guilty but Lord would change the jury's hearts and they would see fit to strike down the law making polygamy illegal. Even Rachel had trouble buying into this claim but she put on her best face as she spun the story for the elders.

Greyson Caliente presented his case, he was supported by decades worth of paperwork and witnesses showing that the FCSU owned businesses dodged taxes, denied wages to employees and forced minors to work long hours in the hot sun with no water. Royce, representing himself, argued that the employees "donated" their time and money back into the church and produced several affidavits from FCSU men to support this. He claimed that churches are exempt from paying taxes, including businesses owned by the church.

The jury went into deliberations. Only taking one day to think about it. When they returned for the final verdict Royce, Elden and many of their sons and brothers were sitting on the edge of their seats, waiting for the Prophet's predictions to come true. This is the moment of vindication. This verdict would change everything. Everyone watched the jury file back into the courtroom. "We the jury find the defendant, Royce Leroy Culton guilty on the charge of tax evasion." They also found him guilty of wage theft and profiting off child labour. The FCSU men in the audience broke down in tears wailing "Uncle Royce!" This wasn't supposed to happen.

Royce was sentenced to five years in prison and the Fundamental Church of Spiritual Unity must pay 3 million dollars in back taxes. Royce was led away back to prison and this followers slunk out of the courthouse back to their trucks. Isaac sat in the back row, trembling from head to toe. He was tearing down his family's empire brick by brick. He drove home plagued by guilt. Teresa greeted him at the door, she could read his face like a book. They betrayed you, not vice versa. What you're doing is making life better for the low ranking members. Remember how much control they exerted. That's what you're fighting." He hugged her and felt so incredibly grateful for his wife and soul mate.

Royce paced furiously around his cell. Clearly there were infiltrators in his flock, damaging his peoples' faith. He begged the Lord to show him the faces of his enemies so he could remove them. He awoke the next morning with a group of ten men he felt were the greatest threats to his power. And two women he just didn't like. He came up with some additional rules for the faithful; further restrictions on food (no meat, no spices, no added sugar) mandatory prayer sessions to set him free three times daily, no physical contact between male and female siblings (apart from girls caring for their baby and toddler brothers) He packaged up the letter, along with the list and sent it to Rachel. Then he sat back in his cell to stew.

[rudysrings]

Twin Pogues of the OBX - 6

A/N: Shortest part yet, but I promise more is coming tomorrow and I just couldn’t bring myself to figure out a good stopping place other than here :)

Warnings: underage drinking, cursing...I think that’s it for this one? 

Word Count: 2.2k

Masterlist

The next morning, you guys took out the HMS Pogue, before realizing the only way you could figure out the location of the wreck and with it, the gold, was to get access to the internet and plug in the coordinates.

Of course, with the power out on the Cut, there was no way you could get online from home. JJ worked as a busboy at one of the fancy hotels on the kook side, and offered to let you guys in.

As always, the familiar warmth of the sun felt nice on your skin. Somehow, after the events of yesterday, it felt like forever since you guys had just hung out on the boat—tanning, swimming, drinking.

You felt uncomfortable today, uninterested in your usual bikinis and shorts. Instead, you borrowed one of your brother’s long-sleeved shirts, usually saved for the winter, and pulled on some faded, worn skinny jeans over your bikini bottoms.

Of course, Kiara noticed, giving your ass a friendly slap as she asked, “What’s with the fit today?”

You threw an arm over her shoulder, hers circling your waist as you walked towards the van. “I just wasn’t feelin’ it today.”

“You’re gonna get real hot, real fast. It’s breaking 100 today.”

“I’ve got my suit under. If worse comes to worse, I’ll just strip down to that.”

“Suit yourself.”

It was rare that you felt insecure. You weren’t ashamed of your physical appearance, no. It might’ve been the realization that your dad had intentionally abandoned you that had shaken you so much. You were feeling vulnerable already and being exposed all day would be a physical manifestation of your fear.

You were quieter than normal, but the pogues didn’t question it, noticing the opposite in John B. It was as if last night had given your brother purpose, something concrete he could actually put his mind to, rather than wonder for days on end.

Once inside, you guys had found out it was about 900ft down, almost off the deep end, but reachable. Though not totally legal, the pogues hatched a plan to ‘borrow’ the drone from the salvage yard that JJ’s dad used to work for.

You asked if you could sit this one out, and, taking one look at your defeated figure, no one disagreed. “I’m going to go and try and write for a bit today, alright?”

You had been a part of a band with a few kids from school, scoring gigs here and there to scrape in whatever money you could. It allowed you a living while doing something you loved at the same time. You were thankful for it, and for Kiara’s dad, who made sure you knew that the band was always welcome to play at the Wreck and earn something for the time they performed. Part of it had to do with the fact that the band always improved business, people staying longer for dessert just to hear you play one more set, but part of it was that he just liked you. Though you were just as crazy, if not crazier than the other pogues, it was easy to see that you had an idea for your future and that’s all that Mr. Carrera ever wanted for his daughter. Though the band had broken up before the summer, with both the drummer and the lead guitarist having graduated high school and moved out of the outer banks for college, you still wrote from time to time. It was your own sort of therapy, the cathartic ritual of trying to reach somewhere within your mind to actually create something. 

Kiara grinned. “Yeah! You should definitely come down to the wreck later tonight; it’s karaoke night!”

You assured her you wouldn’t miss it for the world.

John B gave you a pat on the back as you exited the van. They dropped you off at the Chateau and drove off, JJ shooting finger guns at you and making you smile.

You spent the day at the Chateau, working through your songs and nursing a rare bottle of old wine you had managed to hide from the others underneath your bathroom cabinet. 

You contemplated the last few days, not just about how unloved you felt by your parents, but also the growing thing between you and a certain blonde haired boy. 

You smiled as you strummed the guitar that your brother had given you for your thirteenth birthday as you remembered when you and JJ had first met. 

The third grade was hard enough without a twin brother that radiated energy, leaving you looking like the evil twin who lived in the shadows and collected the limbs of barbies in different containers. Which you did, but you didn’t expect to be so ostracized for it. 

You were alone that day at recess, walking across the black top with your arms hugging yourself. Your dad had done a poor job of helping you with your hair, leaving it a stringy mess across your back. 

Suddenly, your face met the ground and you groaned, turning your head to see a halo of gold behind you. You blinked quickly, pushing yourself up to see a blonde boy with crooked teeth apologizing profusely. 

“Dude! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, this guy—”

You noticed something in his hand. A Gameboy?

Behind him, a pudgy boy with a sweater vest and khaki shorts was quickly approaching and you soon understood what was going on. So this blonde little boy was a thief?

On instinct, you grabbed the gameboy from the blonde boy and shoved it in your backpack as his attacker came running up. 

He shoved the blonde boy to the ground and shouted. “Where is it? You took it, you thief!”

Furious at the violent treatment of the blonde, even though he had stolen, you threw yourself at the bully, your nails scratching him. 

In the end, all of you got in trouble, but when you walked to the bus that day, you gave the blonde boy the game boy and invited him to your place, where you had your own. He gave you a wicked smile, before giving you a big hug and a sloppy kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, pretty. I’m JJ.”

You didn’t know why, but you had always been protective of the boy, without a single good reason. He had always hidden his best qualities, but maybe some part of you recognized a part of yourself in him instantly. A kindred spirit of sorts. A hotheaded mess that was awful at suppressing his emotions but didn’t know how to deal with them any other way. A boy that would do anything for his friends. You didn’t know it at the time, but you found a mirrored version of yourself in that nine year old boy, and you brought him home with you. 

At sunset, you gave up on your songwriting. You had made little progress anyways, instead heading to the Wreck as you promised Kiara. 

When you walked in, the pogues were already shoving their faces happily after a long day. Kiara gave you a huge smile and beckoned you in to hear what had gone down. 

You gave JJ a kiss on the cheek for no reason at all, and he blushed, quipping, “Hey, wifey!”

You pulled your brother and Pope in for a big hug, feeling nostalgic after your lingering thoughts of childhood memories today. 

Before the pogues could comment on your drastically improved mood and sudden need for affection, you suggested that you all get started on karaoke before downing a beer, getting all of them excited.

You danced with Pope John B’s awful, fast-paced rapping of fifty-cent, but that was the point of karaoke, you guessed. 

Pope twirled you, before grabbing your hands and pulling you towards him, shaking his head in a silly fashion. You threw your head back and laughed, catching JJ smiling at the sight from his seat. 

You continued dancing with Pope as Kiara kept vibing on her own a few feet away. She finally had enough of John B’s voice and stole the microphone from him, replacing his screeching with her gorgeous velvet tones as she began singing her go to — Come and Get Your Love. You watched as JJ finally stood up, striding over shyly, with his hands shoved deep in his pockets, raising his eyebrows at you in question. You let John B whisk Pope away as you pulled JJ to you by his forearms. 

You turned around, letting him cage you from behind as you swayed within the comfort of his arms. John B and Pope were waltzing beside you, making you chuckle. 

JJ sang softly to some of the lyrics, so low that you barely heard, only catching some when he bent close to your ears. “What’s the matter with your mind...And you’re mine, and you look so divine...If you want some, take some.” You tried to keep down the goosebumps, but of course, you failed, the fluttering of emotions you always tried to bury making its way up your throat. Or was that the alcohol?

He dropped his head to your shoulder, smiling as his hair brushed your collarbone. “You smell nice.” 

You furrowed your eyebrows and turned in his arms. “I haven’t even showered today!” 

JJ shrugged. “You always smell nice.”

The beer made you giggle, “Do I? Are you getting soft on me, Maybank? You dance and sniff girls’ hair now?”

JJ scoffed, before saying. “Soft? Me? Get outta here, Trouble.” He added smoothly, “And it’s only your hair I sniff.”

You wrinkled your nose. “That’s a little stalkerish, don’t you think? Should I be concerned? C’mon Bear, you’ve gotta live up to your rep.”

JJ shook his head, pulling you back towards him so that you were chest to chest, forced to wrap your arms around him to keep your balance. “Fuck that, just dance with me for fuck’s sake.”

You felt Kiara’s eyes on you, smiling as she moved on to another song. 

Eventually, you got tired and let Kiara pull you away from the guys for a breath of fresh air. 

You walked across the beach, arms crossed over your abdomen. Kiara kept looking at you with that teasing smile and you finally had enough. “What?”

Kiara shook her head. “Nothing, just, you know it’s kind of obvious? You’re so thick headed sometimes, but you clearly –”

“Have feelings for JJ?” You finished for her. She looked at you in surprise as you turned back to the waves. “I’m not so thick-headed. I know what I feel. I’m not stupid.”

She nudged your side, giggling. “Well, he’s really feeling you, too. Like all the butterflies and shit, I swear.” Kiara gave you jazz hands, emphasizing the jittery feeling of a crush.

You smiled. “Yeah, I know.” You knew JJ liked you. You knew it in the way he was always looking out for you, no matter what was going on or what he was doing, his focus was involuntarily always on you. Even your own twin brother didn’t pay that much attention to you. There had always been a tension in the air between you two, a sort of understanding of mutual attraction. It weighed heavy, not just in the air, but on your shoulders, on your heart. Because you knew that you couldn’t let anything come of it. 

Kiara stopped, holding your elbow to keep you from walking any further. She looked confused. “Then why don’t you do anything about it? The rule’s bullshit, anyways.”

You took a deep breath, looking at your friend with heavy guilt as you tried to put into words why you knew that it was a bad idea. “Because we’re so similar. Neither of us have our heads screwed on right. We’d eventually destroy each other. And the worst part is...After the chaos, I wouldn’t have my best friend to help me pick up the pieces.” You shrugged. “I figure if there’s one time in my life I’m going to think before I act, it’s with this. Because this is one of the most important things in my life and I know there wouldn’t be any coming back from that.”

Kiara opened and closed her mouth multiple times, before finally asking, “But what if it works out? What if you create something beautiful?”

You laughed in denial, your throat tight. “It wouldn’t, Kie. It kills me to say it, but I know myself. I can’t be what he needs. I can’t bank on what ifs, anyways.”

Kiara pulled you towards her, wrapping you in a warm embrace. She looked behind you at the guys, who, from the looks of things, were beginning to get suspicious of you guys.

You and Kiara began walking back. Right before the two of you were within earshot of the rest of the pogues, Kiara took your hand and said to you, with complete surety, “For the record, Y/N, I think you guys are being idiots. You were lucky enough to find something real and you’re throwing it away. Because what? Because you’re scared? I just—I just don’t get it.” She scoffed, shaking her head as walking back inside, leaving you back at square one, wondering if you were being foolish and cowardly.

Masterlist

Tag List (If there is a strike through your user it’s bc I couldn’t tag you bc tumblr is wack sometimes...)

@hurricane-abigail @omigodyall​ @timotaychalabae​ @kaelyn-lobrutto24​@caswinchester2000​ @meghanisdeadinside​ @harrysbbby​ @official-maddibrown @xdelicates@maybebanks@yourwonderbelle @treestarrrrrrrr @loco-latte@sspidermanss@theradvibes @eviction-notice-no666@screamingnewsies @the-fandom-life-forever @dolanfivsosxox@vibin-n-thrivin @em-aesthe  @the-real-jort @riverdaleserpent04@free-pool-trash @mileven-reddie @drewswannabegirl@queen1054 @eternalharry@alwayshopelesss @superqalifragilistik@smileyxdolans@fangirling-all-day @dianaillusion@catonthesideoftheroad @darling-im-not-okay-i-promise​ @thelovelydreamer17 @http-cherries​ @pit-zuh​ @kisssmefree​ @starryblueeyesandstarryblueskies​ @outerbankstings​ @oliviadrake1​

I’m also kind of new to tagging and rlly bad at it so if something is wrong, I’m sorry and pls let me know and I’ll try my best to fix it!

I also lost my updated tag list i’m so dumb so let me know if I told you i would tag you and i didn’t oop

Stay safe and stay healthy!

[broccoliboix5peepeeman]

Hi💛 I've suddenly found your blog and I'm in love with its adorableness. I hope you're okay with me sending a prompt. I just need more fluff with Todoroki siblings: Shoto being too lazy on the weekend at his siblings' house and refusing to get up, so they try to get him out the bed to start a new day (Natsuo never stops teasing him about his relationship with Izuku)

Gahhh thank you so much - that really warms my heart! Yessss, I love this prompt so much! :O I think after all the drama recently, these poor kids deserve a break! Hope you enjoy 💛

Shoto looked around him, taking in his surroundings. He was in class. Present Mic Sensei had his back to him, writing the lyrics to some corny English song on the blackboard, while Kaminari sung them out loud with surprising accuracy.

'We're no strangers to love~'

Shoto turned to look at Momo, ready to ask her just what the hell was happening, but instead of his friend, he found a giant teddy bear with long black hair in her place. Shoto’s eyes widened with shock when the bear turned to meet his gaze, nodding to him before focusing back on the lesson.

Okay then… He thought to himself and tried another tactic.

He suddenly stood up from his seat and wandered over to Izuku’s desk, because apparently that was allowed. Even if it did matter though, their teacher didn’t seem to notice, too busy engaging in a dance competition with Ashido, while Kaminari continued to sing. Somehow, Jirou had managed to procure a keyboard and was playing a familiar tune that Shoto couldn’t quite recognise.

Ignoring the odd display, he approached his boyfriend’s desk to find him muttering to himself. Shoto welcomed the small semblance of normalcy.

‘Izuku.’ He began. ‘What’s going on-?’

He stopped abruptly when Izuku turned to face him. Instead of rosy cheeks adorned in freckles and wide emerald eyes, Shoto came face-to-face with a full head of broccoli. He took a moment to fully comprehend what was going on.

Breathe, Shoto. It’s okay. Your boyfriend is a broccoli. It’s fine. It’s going to be alright.

Shoto bent down to inspect the vegetable love of his life. ‘Izuku! Izuku, are you okay? What happened? Was it a quirk? Can you breathe?’

A large hole suddenly opened from where Shoto assumed Izuku’s mouth was. He held his breath with anticipation.

‘According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way that a bee should be able to fly.’

Shoto blinked dumbly.

‘What the fuck-’

‘Wake uuuuuuup!’

Shoto shot up out of bed, breathing heavily as he adjusted to the light of his room. The curtains had been opened, allowing the morning sun to flood in. He winced at the brightness before he noticed Natsuo, stood next to the window with a knowing smirk plastered to his face. Shoto grumbled something unintelligible and collapsed back onto his futon, pulling at the covers to hide his face.

He heard an amused snort. ‘Wakey wakey, Shotouto!’

‘Fuck off.’ Shoto retorted, face buried in his pillow. ‘It’s Sunday.’

‘Now now, that’s no way to talk to your oniisan.’ Natsuo tutted playfully as footsteps approached. Shoto remained silent, hoping his brother would take the hint and piss off, but no such luck. ‘Neechan told me to wake you up nicely, but I see now that you have forced my hand.’

Before Shoto could ask what he even meant by that, suddenly a huge weight collapsed on top of him and Shoto let out a noise he didn’t know he was capable of making. He flailed around under the covers, trying and failing to kick his brother off of him but to no avail.

‘Natsuo, get the fuck off me!’ He got up on all fours, carrying Natsuo on his back, before he rolled onto his side and the two of them went flying.

‘Yaaaaaghhhhh!’

Shoto landed on the tatami floors, his bed sheets wrapped around him and Natsuo’s leg draped over his head. Scrunching up his face in distaste, he shoved the prickly leg away with his right hand and smirked sadistically when his brother yelped in response. If Natsuo’s leg now had a patch of frost coating it, then that was his secret.

‘Neechan!’ Shoto yelled out, voice feigning innocence. ‘Natsuo-nii is being mean to me!’

‘He’s lying!’ Natsuo quickly shot back, picking Shoto up and lifting him above his head before he could even react. Shoto blamed his slow reflexes on his tiredness.

‘Put me down, dickhead!’ He tried to punch at his brother’s arms but the angle made it extremely difficult. Cackling maniacally, Natsuo spun them around in circles. ‘Stoooop!!!’

‘Who’s this Izuku you were talking about in your sleep, Shotouto?’ He asked instead, causing Shoto to still; he stared up at the ceiling with wide eyes and felt his cheeks burn.

‘None of your business.’ He bit back, but that just proved to further fuel his brother’s curiosity.

‘I dunno, seemed pretty serious to me.’ Shoto could practically hear the grin in Natsuo’s voice, before he abruptly stopped spinning them around. His brother let out a delighted gasp that Shoto did not like in the slightest. ‘Wait a minute, Izuku… You were dreaming about that Midoriya-kun you brought around a few weeks ago?!’

Shoto said nothing, not trusting his voice.

Natsuo chortled. ‘Oh my god, you were! Oh, Neechan is going to love this-’

His brother’s words were cut off the moment Shoto grabbed onto his forearm, sending a wave of ice down Natsuo’s body until he was fully encased, with only his eyes and nose exposed. Shoto turned his head and looked down at his brother, fully enjoying the irritated noises he was making.

‘Oh, I’m sorry, Natsuo-nii. Did you say something? I can’t quite hear you.’

His brother let out a muffled yell, scowling at him. However, it didn’t last long. Before the situation could escalate further, the door to Shoto’s room suddenly slid open and Fuyumi entered, hands on her hips and a look of resignation on her face.

‘Oh, Natsuo’s being mean to you, eh?’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘Really seems like it.’

‘Neechan-’

‘Don’t want to hear it. De-ice your Niichan or no soba for you.’

‘Soba?’

One word, one simple word and Shoto leaped off of his brother and pressed his left hand to his icy chest, promptly melting him. When he was liberated, Natsuo shivered violently and shoved him back.

‘Someone’s sensitive this morning.’ He grumbled, shaking his damp hair in Shoto’s general direction. However, before he could get drenched, Shoto quickly jumped out of its trajectory and bolted for the kitchen, leaving Natsuo and Fuyumi to stare at each other, bewildered.

He ran down the hallway when he suddenly heard Fuyumi speak. He stopped in his tracks and turned his head.

‘Come on Natsuo, pay up.’

‘Fuyumiiiii!’

‘Come on, you sabotaged yourself there.’ His sister retorted. ‘Of course, he likes Midoriya-kun. I called it. Now give me my 4000 Yen!’

Heat pooled to Shoto’s face, turning him bright red. Unable to control it, his left side suddenly burst into flames, destroying his pajamas and singing the walls.

‘I am a poor university student, Neechan! This is robbery- Wait...’ Natsuo suddenly sniffed the air. ‘Do I smell smoke?’

Fuck.

❄🔥❄

Shoto sat on the sofa, scrolling through his phone. He was curious about his dream from before. However, after initially searching “What happens if your boyfriend turns into a vegetable” and finding several dark humour posts that he didn’t quite understand, he quickly decided to stick to the simple questions.

He was just familiarising himself with the song Present Mic Sensei had been teaching them in his dream, while simultaneously learning an entire branch of internet culture in the process, when Natsuo bounced into the room and draped himself over Shoto on the sofa. His brother rested his chin on his shoulder and squished his cheek against Shoto’s own scarred one.

‘Watcha googling?’ He mumbled, trying to look at his phone screen.

In that moment, Shoto stilled. He allowed a small grin to grace his face as he turned to look at his brother knowingly. Natsuo stepped back hesitantly, removing himself from Shoto and off of the sofa, worried. Maintaining eye contact with his brother, Shoto turned his screen to reveal his search results.

The lyrics to Never Gonna Give You Up shone across Natsuo’s face and his grey eyes widened with shock. Shoto’s grin broadened when his brother gasped dramatically and clutched at his chest before promptly falling to the ground.

‘Noooooooo!’ He sobbed, curling in on himself. ‘How could you, Sho?!’

Shoto rose from where he was seated and stood over his brother, victorious.

‘That’s for placing a bet on my love life.’

‘What is going on here?!’ Fuyumi ran into the room, out of breath. ‘I leave you two for five minutes and- Wait, Natsuo, why are you on the floor?’

In that moment, both Shoto and Natsuo looked up at their sister with uncanny synchrony. However, while Shoto flashed Fuyumi a cool smile, his brother looked significantly more distressed.

‘I can no longer go on, Neechan!’ He sobbed. ‘I have been rickrolled by my baby brother! I have brought dishonour to my family!’ He raised a fist and shook it at the ceiling. ‘Damn you, old man! You were right all along!’

‘Shoto, what did you do to him?!’ Fuyumi exclaimed, rounding on Shoto. ‘He just called father right. What happened?’

‘He literally said it.’ Shoto shrugged, weaving around his sister to exit the room so he could brag about his recent accomplishments to Izuku over the phone. After a moment of consideration though, he peeked his head back into the room. ‘Also, Natsuo-nii, remember to pay up. Izuku is a really good kisser, after all.’

The cry of anguish his brother emitted, along with Fuyumi’s joyful cackling echoed down the hallway.

Shoto allowed himself a small smile.

[hypnoticwinter]

Down the Rabbit Hole part 1

It's five in the afternoon just outside of Corpus Christi and I and my poor old Elantra with the broken AC are stuck in a traffic jam because some dickhead decided he wanted to cut across five lanes of traffic and got mangled by a semi truck. And then the jam’s compounded by all of the damn lookie-looes slowing down to a crawl as they squirm through the two lanes still open, the metaphorical arteries of the gigantic beast that is the United States highway system, trying to get a good look at something gory on the way home.

I'm slowly melting into my seat, barely able to keep my eyes open. I keep glancing over at the water bottle I'd set snugly into the passenger seat, my cupholders being full with spare change and old receipts and little mini bottles of hand sanitizer, but just the way the sun's reflecting off of it makes me sick thinking about how warm the water would be by now.

I'm a few cars back from the wreck now. A police officer, looking sweaty and tired, steps out into the road, stopping traffic to let a couple of paramedics cross. A loud radio ad is playing in the car next to me and I look over. The guy in it looks about as done with this as I feel. I smile to myself, go back to watching the wreck.

The paramedics have stopped now and are talking to the policeman in the middle of the road. He looks annoyed, gestures at the cars ahead of him. One of the paramedics shakes his head and points back towards one of the cars.

The radio ad ends and the throbbing beat of Billy Joel's "We Didn't Start the Fire" comes on and I find myself singing along under my breath without even thinking about it.

Harry Truman, Doris Day, Red China, Johnnie Ray

South Pacific, Walter Winchell, Joe DiMaggio...

Another paramedic joins the group in the middle of the highway and then they hustle over to the wreck. The police officer gestures and we move fractionally forwards, then stop again. The asshole in the giant pickup truck ahead of me has decided to stop and watch them peel the door off the crushed sedan like the scab off a fresh cut. I can see something pink and fleshy and hurt-looking inside, where the driver's seat ought to have been, and I look away quickly.

We didn't start the fire

It was always burning since the world's been turning...

I end up meeting the eyes of the guy in the car next to me. He's bobbing his head along to Billy Joel and gives me a somewhat sheepish, embarrassed look. He's balding, looks about forty. A tired, haggard, sweaty face. I roll my eyes and smile at him and he smiles back. Someone behind me honks and I twist backwards and give him the finger, really slam it at him against the dirty rear window. We're rolling forwards so slowly that it's absurd to even honk, just people blowing off steam. I suppose on some level it's equally absurd to give him the finger for it, but whatever.

Lebanon, Charles de Gaulle, California baseball

ARPANET, Free Tibet, what's in Mystery Flesh Pit?

Buddy Holly, Ben Hur, space monkey, Mafia

Hula hoops, Castro, Edsel is a no-go...

Wait. What?

Now that we're past the wreck the highway widens out. More lanes open and the guy next to me merges over to the left. Billy Joel's voice disappears into engine noises and honks and the sound of the wind whipping past my open windows, but I still keep thinking about the lyrics I had just mouthed along to.

What the hell is a Mystery Flesh Pit?

I glance over at the phone sitting in its holster on the dash but something about the way the car I’d just past had crunched in on itself like a discarded candy wrapper makes me think better of it. I shift a lane or two to the right, get in line for my exit, and then I'm off the freeway. I make every light on the way to my apartment, all four of them, and it's just enough time that I forget about the line in the song. I jump into the shower and let the cold water run over me for fifteen minutes, which turns into thirty, which turns into forty-five, which turns into an hour.

When I get out I'm shivering but the warm Texas air blowing through my open window wraps me up like a warm hug, and I shrug into a flannel shirt, leave it unbuttoned. I put my cigarette out, leave it crumpled in the ashtray, stifle my coughs. I’m still not used to smoking this much. I eye the half-empty pack laying on the table but I let it alone.

The letter I received yesterday is on the kitchen table where I'd dropped it. The envelope is still on the floor somewhere. I think about going back and reading it again, or going and finding the envelope and throwing it away, but I don't want to. There wouldn’t be a point.

My phone buzzes; I see the name of the contact and let it ring. I don’t want to talk to him.

Outside, down in the courtyard, an old man is taking his dog for a walk. There is a vast darkened array of clouds closing in from the east and it already smells like rain, the wind is carrying it. I might take a walk too, later tonight.

I go back to the dresser and take my shirt off, slip a bra on, and then put the shirt back on. I almost light another cigarette, then I stop myself.

What the hell is Mystery Flesh Pit?

I had almost forgotten. Almost, but not quite. Billy Joel got stuck in my head and while I'd been puttering I'd hummed along until I got to that verse.

I shake my head and go get my laptop, type it into google half-expecting to find a porn site. A few travelogue type posts, a Wikipedia page...I click on that one and get hit with a redirect. Permian Basin Superorganism Containment Area? ("Mystery Flesh Pit" redirects here. For the defunct U.S. National Park, see...)

I read the page, and then I stop. The growing sense of unease I felt while I devoured the Wikipedia article is now almost too much for me to handle.

This can't possibly be real. This has to be a prank or something, some kind of internet joke gone out of control. I click on the link to the National Park and see pictures, too many and too high quality to be faked. It's like something out of a Michael Crichton novel but it's real. It has to be.

The Permian Basin Superorganism (Immanis Collosseus), I read, is a subterranean organism unique to modern biology, being the sole occupant of the Phylum Immanemqa. The organism was discovered by a pilot well drilling crew in 1973; later efforts were made to expose more of the organism through drilling and surface mining explosives. The Permian Basin Superorganism is notable for its immense size, being the largest living animal on the planet, its equally immense age, and for the degree and sophistication of human exploitation concerning the animal, culminating in the opening of a National Park largely within the creature’s body, allowing visitors to descend within the Permian Basin Superorganism and…

I read about gullets and bones and digestion, about an ancient animal of some kind living baked into the stone and earth outside of Gumption, Texas. I read about the sheer enormity of it, I read about how a mining company turned it into a tourist attraction, splitting its throat wide open with metal retaining walls and letting people ride an elevator a thousand feet down into its insides. I read about ballast, some kind of secretion exuded by the creature that acts as a kind of panacea, healing afflictions untouchable by conventional medicine. They made great baths out of the glands that produced it, let people bathe in its diluted aphrodisiac waters. I read, finally, about the 2007 disaster that closed the park, when a pump failed to activate and drowned the thing, making it wake up – god, wake up? – and swallow almost seven hundred people, making it spew caustic vomit so high into the air that there are still pockets of it being found here and there nearly a hundred miles away, burning into the ground and poisoning water tables. And the way they managed to get it to go back to sleep is classified by the US Government. Did they nuke it? Christ, Gumption is only...okay, well, it's about five hundred miles away, so I guess I'm a little less concerned, but, god, this happened in the same state as me and this is only the first time I'm hearing about it. July Fourth, 2007...

I realize after a moment, with a strange little knot in my stomach, that actually, I did hear about it. I wasn't in the state in 2007. It was four years ago, I'd just gotten out of school and I was still in Oklahoma, but I remember my parents telling me about an earthquake at midnight that they'd felt, that woke them up, knocked a couple of things over. I had never known...

I feel a little like I've just woken up and gone to the bathroom and looked outside and all of a sudden the sky is a bright green, and everybody I ask about it just looks at me really strangely and says that it's always been green.

I google my way all over the internet, looking at photos people have taken decades ago on their family trips, hosted on filesharing sites or on ancient GeoCities-era pages. I see smiling families, people in hiking gear, people swimming inside biological hot springs, people digging pitons into great sheer walls of flesh, not minding the blood that gushes out. I see a shaky video someone's taken of their television, of CNN back on the Fourth of July, 2007, I see a vast bloody pit, carved into the great flat nothing of central Texas.

I feel like my head is spinning. I get up, get away from the computer, grab another cigarette and smoke it slowly, standing on the balcony, looking out over the sprawling cityscape in the general direction of Gumption, Texas, or at least where I think it should be. If north is that way, then…

Alright. It's real. There's enough evidence, photographs, videos, spread across so many different web sites that it would be impossible to fake. I look up an old rating list of National Parks, making sure that it's from around 2004 or so, and find Mystery Flesh Pit near the bottom. The tiny two-sentence blurb describes it as "strange," "horrifying," and "easily skippable," so I guess that could also explain why I had never heard of it.

And, of course, the ballast. Some kind of miracle liquid. I read on Wikipedia that they’d tried to synthesize it after July 4th, after the supplies had been cut off, but no matter how molecularly perfect they could make the compound it was so much drossy bathwater, without the power to cure even a hangnail. It has to come straight from the source for it to be any good - who knows why.

There is a slow, anxious curl unwinding in my stomach, and for a moment, I fear the results it may lead me to.

I look at the map I'd opened in another tab again; Gumption, Texas; a tiny little county named after a tiny little town, or so I've heard. Now that I’m thinking about it, I vaguely remember passing through Gumption once, very briefly, during a family road trip back when I was six, but I don't remember much more than that. The only reason I even recognize the name of the town is because at the time I thought it was a funny name and I kept saying it to myself after I'd asked my mom what the word on the sign meant when we drove into town. Welcome to Gumption. Did it have more, perhaps? “Home of the Mystery Flesh Pit?” I don't remember visiting the Mystery Flesh Pit National Park, that's for sure. I think that would have stuck with little six-year-old me.

I eye the scale on the map, use my fingers to estimate the distance from Corpus Christi to Gumption.

It'd be a solid day of driving, seven or eight hours on the road, not counting breaks for food, sleep, restroom. I grimace at the computer screen, then zoom the map out. Lubbock, though...I could take a plane to Lubbock. That'd be, what, like two hours? Maybe? And then rent a car, drive down to Gumption...

I swallow, then laugh at myself. Why bother? I think. Why bother driving down to look at some fences and security guards? It's closed off, the Wikipedia page said, nobody in or out, just some scientists and a sedative plant. The fun stopped when it woke up, back in ‘07.

Flights are cheap. Ninety-nine dollars, ninety-five dollars. I start to type in the address to check my bank balance, then stop, fold the computer closed. I want a cigarette.

On my way out to the window my foot brushes against the envelope I'd left discarded on the floor and again I think of picking it up and putting it away, and again I leave it there. It doesn't really matter.

It'd be a horrible waste of money, probably. And I doubt I'd find anything really meaningful. Even if, you know, I use the excuse of going and looking around so I could write a story on it or something, I don't know if Jim, my editor, would really care that much. From what it seems, Mystery Flesh Pit is ancient history.

I take another look at the sheet of paper sitting on the table, curled over on itself like a dead spider. Fuck it, I think, then repeat myself out loud. I stub out the cigarette and go retrieve my cell phone, look up the phone number for American Airlines out of Corpus Christi airport. Fifteen minutes on hold later I am the proud owner of one business class ticket to Lubbock, Texas, leaving in four hours out of gate nine. I hang up the call and say "fuck it" aloud again because it makes me feel a little better, and then I go pack.

The plane ride is okay. Security was a bear and a half but it always is. I realized from the pleasant-unnerving swooping sensation in my stomach when we took off that it had been long enough since the last time I'd been on a plane that I had forgotten what it feels like. I was lucky to grab a window seat next to a little kid and his father; they didn't bother me as much as I'd expected. Once he turned to me to show me something on the handheld video game he was playing but his father quickly intercepted him and apologized to me; I was a little put out, honestly, I would have wanted to look at it. I'd forgotten to stick a book in my carry-on so I had been stuck staring out the window, and about a half hour in the plane had angled in such a way that the setting sun was glaring me right in the face and daring me to enjoy the scenery, so I did the most sensible thing I could and closed the shutter and tried to fall asleep. I think I managed to do so about fifteen minutes before we landed, which lead to me letting out a rather embarrassing yelp when the landing jolted me awake. The kid and his dad looked at me and I blushed, mentally kicking myself for blushing, but I smiled at them and shrugged and said that I'd fallen asleep and we had a laugh about it.

Lubbock is alright, I guess, if you don’t look at it too closely or stay too long. I rent a car at the airport and drive into town, and consider driving to Gumption that night, but I decide after some deliberation that it'll be better to do a little reconnaissance here first, if I really am going to make a story out of this. Am I? I've been treating that as my excuse so far and yeah, I brought my voice recorder and my camcorder and my DSLR and plenty of memory cards and extra batteries...but I guess I hadn't really taken it seriously.

The city's very alive at night, more so, it seems to me, than Corpus Christi, but I also don't get out very much back home, so maybe my perception is skewed. Everywhere I look there are clubs and shows and bars and things, and then, as I pass into the seedier areas, huddled groups of people spotted here and there. I imagine they’re eying me as I drive past and I tamp down the little curl of fear rising in my stomach.

I find a Motel 6 and then I try to find a Waffle House, but seemingly there aren’t any in Lubbock. I settle for someplace called The Pancake House, and then in a couple of hours I feel better, and then a couple of hours after that I finally manage to fall asleep.

I wake up having slept like the dead. I think about going someplace for breakfast but think better of it after I sit up too quickly and my stomach gives an uneasy lurch in protest. I get dressed leisurely – it is my weekend, after all. For a moment I even manage to fantasize that I'll be able to catch a flight home in time to make it to work on Monday but then I laugh at myself, which I seem to be doing quite a lot of lately.

Barely a hundred miles away, Mystery Flesh Pit is waiting for me. I don't know what I'll find there – personally, I feel rather certain it'll be a hell of a let-down – but it feels nice to have a purpose for once, to feel as though my life is being put to some kind of use other than to see how many cigarettes I can smoke in a single day and still retain some dignity.

It's nice to not have to think.

I take a breath and throw some clothes on and get started on the hard part.

 * * *

 The guy mopping the floor at the bus stop:

"Excuse me, sir? Do you know anything about the Mystery Flesh Pit Disaster of 2007?"

"The what?"

 Businessman on the street, approached while tying his shoes:

"Excuse me, sir? I'm doing some research on the Mystery Flesh Pit disast –"

"I'm sorry, lady, I don't have any money."

 Lady at the counter of the pharmacy:

"Excuse me, ma'am? I'm trying to find out some information on the Mystery Flesh Pit, do you have a moment to talk about it?"

"Sure, honey, but I'm afraid I don't know that much about it. That was back in, what, 2003? 2004?"

"2007, actually. Did you ever happen to visit while the park was still operating?"

 "It was a park? I just remember something about some sort of tunnel collapse."

"Right. Thanks for your time."

 Guy at the 7-11, asked while filling up the tank on my car next to him:

"Hey, dude, you know anything about the Mystery Flesh Pit?"

"Went there once when I was a kid. Pretty cool. Why?"

"I'm a reporter, doing a story on it. You remember the disaster that closed it down?"

"It's closed now? That's lame. What happened?"

"Thing woke up and ate everybody."

"For real?"

"Yeah. I've been asking around, like nobody's heard about it. Kind of surprising."

He taps his finger to his chin. "You know," he says thoughtfully, "it has been like five years since then."

"Four years."

"Even so. People don't have any kind of attention span any more."

His pump clicks off and so does our conversation.

 Yeah, alright, maybe it isn't a very representative group, but it seems like nobody cares. Is that reasonable? Well...seven hundred plus people died, most in pretty gruesome ways, according to Wikipedia. Then there were the, god, the thousand or ten-thousand-plus people affected by the vomit and ejecta scattered hundreds of miles away. I’m not sure. You'd expect that apathy from the rest of the nation, maybe, I don't know why somebody in Arkansas or Kentucky or Illinois or wherever would give a fuck if they didn't personally know somebody who was affected, but here? Just a hundred miles from the place or so?

Maybe they did a really good job of cleaning up the cities, maybe it's only the little towns and places where the legacy of it has really clung on. I know there has to be a story, somebody who was there, somebody who saw it. That jerky camcorder video of CNN is a start, but something real, something visceral, in the words of a survivor...

That was the one thing I didn’t find much of. No memoirs, no autobiographies, just a few mentions here and there but nothing like a back-to-front story of what that night was like. That is what I’m really after.

I put my cigarette out in one of those trashcan-cum-ashtrays that dot the corners of every city I've ever been to, Lubbock no exception. I get in the rental car and again forget that it has crank windows instead of buttons. "To the library, and step on it," I giggle to myself as I pull out into traffic. I feel a little lightheaded and I remember that I never bothered to eat anything.

Perusal of the newspaper archives at the Mahon Public Library downtown confirmed what I'd already assumed – that there was no big government coverup, there was no conspiracy of that sort. The disaster at the Mystery Flesh Pit was capital-letter Very Big News for about a month, back in 2007, at least in the area. The stories towards the end of the month cast a little light on why it didn't last, though – it wasn't ongoing, it was just sort of a one-and-done thing. Yeah, finding the caustic vomit everywhere kicked up another stink a week or so later but the Powers That Be seemed to get that under control fairly quickly, at least in more populated areas. After that there were grumblings about disclosure and fault and blame and all that, and quite a few articles about Anodyne Mining or whoever going bankrupt but by the end of the month, aside from a few overly sentimental memorial pieces dedicated to delicately sidestepping the exact causes of death of the people they were memorializing, the news had moved on.

A librarian pokes around the corner with a cart and smiles at me; I smile back at her. She's young, pretty, long skirt, dark eyes. I scoot forward so she can pass behind me. I read on for a while, the faint swish of her skirt and the slim sliding sound of books going back into shelves registering dimly and pleasantly in the back of my mind. I put the paper down and stretch a little, and then I notice she's glancing over at me. I smile at her again.

"Doing some research?" she asks, and I nod.

"Yes," I say. "I'm a reporter for a paper in Corpus Christi and I'm doing a story on the Mystery Flesh Pit. Have you heard of it?"

As soon as the words pass my lips there's something dark and guarded lurking in her eyes that makes me perk my ears up. She waits a couple of seconds before she answers, clearly thinking of what to say, of how much to tell me. I mention, after a moment, that I'm surprised that so few people here in Lubbock seem to really remember it or care about it, and she nods, leans up against her cart.

"It was a big deal for a while," she says, gesturing to the stack of papers next to me, "but after that I guess it just wasn't exciting any more. The only people who really remember it are out in all the small towns where it really affected them. Here, in Lubbock, they just had vans working overtime to clean everything up and then it was easy to forget about. Every now and then I hear about them finding another pile of that vomit somewhere just...festering away out there in the desert."

"Were you there?"

"No," she says, "but my brother was."

"I'm sorry," I tell her. I want to reach out and touch her or something but I don't know if she'd appreciate it, so instead I keep my sympathy subdued. "Is he - ?"

"No, no," she says quickly, "he's alright. He was a park ranger there, he just…happened to be working that night. He, ah...it really fucked him up for a while," she says finally, giving me a grimace. "We haven't talked in a long time."

"I'm sorry," I say again. "That must have been hard, for both of you."

"Yeah," she says, cutting her glance downwards. "He always said some strange things about the disaster, real Alex Jones type stuff. But he just couldn't, you know, move on at all. We got in a big fight about it and, well, that was that."

I wonder what to say for a moment before I cross my legs, set the newspapers aside. "You must have gone there, then, while it was still operating."

"Yes, plenty of times."

"What was it like?"

She laughs softly. "God, that's such a...like, where do I even begin, you know? Have you been to many other National Parks?"

"A few," I tell her. "Not as many as I'd have liked. Crater Lake, Devil's Tower, Badlands, Petrified Forest..."

She laughs. "Real Midwest girl, aren't you?"

"Hey, Crater Lake is in Oregon, that's not the Midwest."

"I wasn't knocking it. Um. Well, it wasn't like any other park you've ever been to, I can guarantee that. It was like, you drive up to it and you park and you walk up these stairs to get to the main observatory building, and you get in there and you look down and there's just...skin. In a hole in the ground. It was extremely disconcerting. From that distance it didn't look real, it looked like it was plasticine or something, like it was a model. And there was something...I don't know, kind of lewd about it?"

"Lewd?"

"Yeah. The way they were spreading it open with these giant metal, like, flanges or whatever, and how it was all raw and pink around the opening...Freud would have had a field day with it. Made you feel like you were watching a gynecological exam."

"I still kind of can't believe they found this thing and thought opening a theme park was the best thing to do with it."

"It was the 70s, I guess." she shrugs. "Place is old, you know. Anyway, once you actually got down into it, it was...it was an experience. You rode this giant elevator down and they had a massive visitor center something like 1200 feet down inside the thing's throat, and you could look out the windows and see all this flesh outside. It was honestly like something out of a movie, it was so surreal. I went there a bunch of times with my brother cause he got an employee discount and I could get in for five dollars and I saw at least ten people have panic attacks and hyperventilate."

I think about my next question for a moment. "Would you say overall that it was, you know, a negative thing? Like, the park on the whole."

"No, absolutely not."

"Why's that?"

She licks her lips. "I think that it's really easy to forget how small we are. We've done all these great things, we've built civilizations, we've put people on the moon, we're exploring the bottom of the ocean, I think humanity in general likes to think that we have everything figured out." She shrugs. "The Mystery Flesh Pit is a really good reminder that we know basically nothing. I mean, they were studying it but they knew practically nothing about it, not how big it was, not whether there were more creatures like it elsewhere in the world, not where it came from, not even if it was awake or if it could move or what the thing looked like as a whole. I think what they ended up doing with it was stupid as hell, but as far as the experience of actually going down inside of it and walking around on a trail and, I don't know, watching macrobacteria roll past outside the fence or seeing something really weird moving around down there and seeing the park ranger guiding you not know what it is either, that's an experience I genuinely wish everybody got to have. It'll change your life."

"How did it change yours?"

She laughs. "Besides, you know, everything with the disaster and my brother and all that shit? Just going down there really made me realize who I was."

"How, exactly?"

She shakes her head. "Like I said, I figured out just how small I was and how – I don't know, how insignificant we really are. These days whenever I get worried or bothered or I stress out over something I think about standing there in the elevator looking up through the glass ceiling and watching the light get smaller and dimmer, like I was falling into a bottomless pit, and I find peace."

"Seems like an odd way to find peace."

"Different strokes, right? Anyway. I really ought to put these books away. Was there anything else you wanted to know?"

I think about it for a moment, then shrug. "I'm planning on heading down to Gumption tomorrow, aside from the pit itself is there anything else I ought to check out?"

She lets out a low whistle. "I think you're going to be very disappointed. They don't let anybody go to the Pit any more, it's all sealed off, has been for years. And Gumption, well...that town has seen better days. I'll give you a tip, though, even though maybe I shouldn't. Look for my brother there, I know he still lives in town. I can't give you his number or his address, unfortunately, because I don't have them any more, but I know for a fact that he works at the only gas station in town, a 7/11, so ask around there and you'll be able to find him. His name's Peter; I'd tell you to tell him I sent you but I kind of get the feeling that might not get you very far."

I thank her for the tip and set the newspapers aside. If I head out tonight I might be able to get some good shots of the fence around Mystery Flesh Pit. I think of it, of the sunset, then discard the thought. Forget it. I'll need a whole day to really dig into it, I think. And more's the better. I have plenty of batteries, I have plenty of storage. Easy girl, there's no rush. Assuming they let me just walk up and start filming, but if I really hype myself up I can half-believe I could talk my way into at least getting some shots of the fence, at the very least.

"Oh, and one last thing."

I blink, look back up at her. She has a faint smile on her face, probably from watching me zone out, that fades quickly. "Don't stay in Gumption too long."

 * * *

 The drive down to Gumption is dusty and hot and boring. I get about halfway before I realize I'm not driving my poor old Hyundai, I'm driving a rental car, and that it has a functional air conditioner, and then I feel very silly, for though the wind certainly felt nice on the whole I would have much rather just rolled the windows up and sat in the cool air. I see a grand total of four other cars, all coming from Gumption, on the two-hour drive. It's mostly a straight shot but my phone tells me to take a county road that turns into just a dirt track towards the end that, after a little meandering, plops me out onto a back street of Gumption, Texas.

The research I'd done suggests that at one point Gumption had been a bustling little town, fuelled by the Pit’s tourist draw, and initially its size would indicate that it still is. But as I drove slowly through the empty streets, the general air of disrepair and decay became more and more apparent. I see a couple abandoned houses, and not the foreclosed sort with realtor's signs out front, but straight-up shattered-glass, boarded-windows, holes-in-the-roofs abandoned. The ones that weren't just looked sad, like no one was taking care of them properly. The cars parked on the street are all at least five or six years old, as best as I can tell. I see only two people out and about while I'm driving around at 15 miles an hour, getting some video footage, cruising down the middle of the road, eyes flicking between the empty street ahead and the screen on my camera. One, a youngish-looking black guy, keeps his head down and doesn't look at me, and the other, an old man in a wifebeater mowing his lawn, stares at me all the way down the street, until I turn the corner and pull onto the main road.

There's the 7/11. I'm tempted to head to it right away but I refrain, look for a diner or something, but the ones around look about as welcoming as the rest of the place. There's a McDonald's but it's so small it doesn't even have a drive-through, which is something I'd never seen before. There's a drug store and a liquor store and one of those tiny little storefront churches, something something Starry Wisdom. I think about going to McDonald's but instead I pull a u-turn and head back to the gas station. The clerk, a haggard-looking woman, doesn't look up from her magazine when I walk in. I wander to the back and grab a Coke out of the fridge unit. The credit-card reader is broken so I have to dig around in my wallet and find some bills. The entire exchange continues without any speech at all until I work up my nerve and lick my lips and ask her if there's a hotel around here somewhere.

She looks at me for a few moments and then jerks her head towards the road. Her voice sounds like a frog croaking. "There's a motel down the road a ways. When you pull out take a left and turn at Third street."

"Thanks."

"No problem."

"By the way."

"Yeah?"

"Can you tell me when Peter works?"

I had to think for a moment to remember his name. I have it written down in a notebook but it's out in the car. Her eyes flash a little more lively. "Who's asking?"

I think of what to say for a moment before I shrug. "A friend."

For a moment I think she's going to tell me to fuck off, but something in my face must have convinced her. "He's off today. Come in tomorrow at eight or nine at night, he'll be here. He works graveyard most days."

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

I walk out the door and the heat hits me like a thrown punch. I blow a breath out and lean up against the rough cinderblock edge of the gas station building and drink my Coke.

It's four in the afternoon and it'll take me maybe half an hour to drive down to the Mystery Flesh Pit. It'll be cooler, too, in the evening, and if this town is any indication I doubt there'll be much of a line. I wonder where the people who work there live; maybe they have a dormitory there or something. Clearly they don't live here. Maybe there's some little patch of suburbs somewhere, behind those hills over there, perhaps, where all the people are, but it's four in the afternoon and I've seen a grand total of three other cars driving around, so maybe not.

The guy at the motel gives me a nicer greeting than the lady at the 7-11 did, although not by much; at least I get a few dirty molars of a smile out of him as he hands me the key to my room. I had to wake him up from his nap at the front desk in order to get the room to begin with, and though I tried to do so as gently as I could he still started and almost fell out of his chair.

"Here for the Pit?" he asks as I'm about to leave, and I turn back, glance at him.

"Yeah," I say after a moment. "Just going to see what's there now."

"You're heading over now?"

"Yes."

"Huh," he grunts after a moment. "Most of you folks don't do that 'till dark."

I frown. "Us folks?"

"You know, you..." his eyes roam over my face and his mouth drops open very slightly. "Oh," he says heavily. "Never mind."

"What?"

"Nothing, ma'am. Now if you'll excuse me –"

"Wait, hang on –"

"You have a good day now, ma'am."

He disappears into the back room and I stand there, glaring at the door as it swings shut, key still looped around my finger. I have half a mind to vault the desk and head back there and demand to know what the hell he was talking about, but I take a deep breath and let it out. What could he have meant? Maybe he thinks I work over at the Flesh Pit or something, although that wouldn't explain why they only head over after dark...that doesn't make sense. Tourists, maybe? But that doesn't make sense either.

I chew on my lip for a little while and then shake my head, push the door open and let the heat swallow me up again. There's no sense brooding on it; the only thing to do is to move forward.

 * * *

 The drive down to Mystery Flesh Pit is, if it were possible, even hotter and more boring than the drive down to Gumption. The heat is pounding on the window and begging me to let it in so I turn up the AC, trying to drown it out, but it's no use. No matter where I put my arm the sun is pouring down on me, and if I leave it still for more than a moment I get that unpleasant prickling sensation that tells me I'm starting to burn already. I've already got a pretty terrible driver's tan from the ride down but this is just overkill.

No cars pass me on the long road that my phone assures me is the way to the Permian Basin Superorganism Containment Corporation. It's only wide enough for one so if someone did come by someone's going off the road. Hopefully not me, as this rental Toyota is not built for that sort of thing. It's already been complaining at me creakily and jostling me around. I'll have to get it a car wash or something when I get back to Lubbock, whenever that ends up being. I didn't read over the rental contract very closely but I'm pretty sure if I bring it back this dusty there's some kind of fee.

You can see the outline of the plant, growing larger up ahead. It looks unassuming, exactly like any other indecipherable cluster of industrial buildings you'd see along the side of the highway, all greyish-white, tubes and pipes and tanks and corrugation, warning signs and fences and barbed wire, power lines and scaffolding and light poles, all clustering out of the ground like mushrooms after a cold rain. The guard in the gatehouse is watching me as I pull up, but I turn off the road, turning the car around so I'll be ready to go whenever I need to, well away from the road so anyone trying to get in or out can get by without any trouble.

The sign on the fence broadly proclaims that this is the site of the Permian Basin Recovery and Superorganism Containment Corporation, and says that the administration building is to the right, along with the barracks, infirmary, commissary, and so on.

I get out, shut the car door, take my camcorder with me. I keep it on but held low, taking a shot of my feet. I wander up to the gatehouse and the guard steps out, hand on the butt of his pistol, resting loose but confident. He has an MP helmet on and I wonder whether the National Guard is in charge of security or something, and then I wonder if I'm about to get got for trespassing. Surely there'd be more of a commotion if I was, right?

The guard has a sharp face but disconcertingly watery eyes. "Hi," I tell him.

"This area's off-limits to civilians, ma'am," he tells me.

"I'm not trying to get in," I assure him. "I'm a journalist, I just want to take some photos. Is that okay?"

He relaxes a little, points up and down the fence. "Right now," he says, "you're on public land. You go over that fence, you're trespassing on Federal land. Understand?"

"Yessir," I grunt, reflexively. Some old habits never die.

"You can take photos of whatever you like except for people inside the fence, understand? Before you leave I will check your camera."

"Yessir."

"Any questions?"

"Can I take a photo of you?"

"Am I inside the fence?"

"No."

"Then yes, you can."

I bring my DSLR up, snap a picture of him. He gives me a cheesy grin. I look at the display and then back up at him. "You blinked."

"Better take another."

I do so. "You know," I say to him, "this is a much more civil interaction than I expected it to be."

He pauses, halfway back to the guardhouse, to shrug at me. "You're just lucky that the government doesn't also own the land around the park. On most military bases it's like that, you know, they own a hundred-foot radius out from the fence, but here it's different."

"Cause it used to be a National Park?"

"I believe so."

"Do I have to stay in your sight or anything?"

He shakes his head. "No, there are cameras. Just make sure you don't touch the fence, it's electric."

I look at the sign on the fence again; I'd sort of skimmed over it before but a few more things catch my eye this time, especially the bright red one proclaiming that it's charged to 10,000 volts. I whistle. "Y'all really don't want people getting in, huh?"

"It's dangerous."

"So I've heard. Want to do an interview?"

"Can't do that, ma'am. What paper are you with?"

"Corpus Christi Star-Tribune."

He raises his eyebrows. "You're a long way from home. What brings you down to Gumption County?"

I briefly explain what got me interested in the Mystery Flesh Pit and he nods. "Lot of people seem to have forgotten about this place. It's for the best, I'd say."

"Care to elaborate?"

"No, ma'am," he says, but not unkindly. "I can't talk to reporters."

"Come on," I wheedle. "Who'd know?"

"We're on camera," he repeats.

"Fair enough," I shrug.

He gets back in the guardhouse and I run a hand through my hair and turn my attention to the fence. I take a shot of the gates, of the fence, of the signs on the fence, of the great bulging buildings visible through the fence. I get a nice one of the fence extending along into the horizon, a great metal wall bisecting the flat, hot plain of West Texas earth, extending into infinity, it seems, a shimmer of heat distortion bubbling off of it down in the distance. I get another good one of the sun dipping downwards behind the plant, swallowed by it, casting shadows across my face, long spidery ones that scrape the ground. Then, once I'm at about fifty-percent capacity on my memory card, I put the camera away and sit there on the trunk of the car, kicking my heels idly against the gravelly ground, taking it all in. I read the sign again and I call out to the guard. After a moment he comes out of the gatehouse again.

"What is it?" he asks.

"What's that sign mean?" I ask him, pointing to it. He turns, looks at it.

"I don't think it's very ambiguous," he tells me, and I roll my eyes.

"No, I'm serious. What the hell does it mean? 'Over 500 people die each year attempting to commune with the Organism?' What does that - ?"

"Ma'am, I really can't talk about it."

I look at him carefully but he seems serious, and the sign, well...it's a sign on an electric fence on federal property, so surely it's serious as well. I turn my camera back on and snap a photo of it, then I realize that there's a bit of background noise, coming slowly closer. It's the rumbling of an engine.

There, down the road, is an unmarked white Econoline van. It flashes its brights at me and I step out of the road, let it pass by, while the guard at the gate straightens his uniform. It pulls up to the gate and the guard leans in. He and the driver have a brief conversation before the guard steps back and reaches into the booth to open the gate. The gate opens but the driver of the van sticks his head out, looks back at me. He has a jowly, bristly face, about two five-o'clock shadows away from a beard, and a large bald spot.

"And you, what are you doing here?" he calls, and I get up, a little surprised to be addressed so abruptly. The guard comes out in a hurry, shaking his head.

"Sir," he starts, but the guy in the van isn't having any of it.

"Shut up for a second," he says. "Lady, what're you doing out here?"

"I'm –"

"Sir, you really shouldn't –"

"Look, lady," he says, gesturing me closer. "Things don't have to go this way. There've been a lot of advances with medical technology that can really help you out with those urges. There's –"

"Urges?" I ask. I get a prickly feeling all up and down my spine, like I'm hearing something I ought not to.

"Sir," the guard says, urgently now, "she's a reporter."

The man's mouth snaps shut so quickly he might as well have been a cartoon character. He flushes an angry red and glares at the guard as though he wants to say something but he just ducks his head back through the window of the car and drives through the gate, which closes after him. I shake my head.

"I suppose," I say after a moment, "that you aren't going to tell me what he meant?"

"Not a chance."

"Well," I say, getting up and stretching, "it's been fun."

"You have a good night now."

"Am I going to get a visit from the Men in Black at my hotel room later?"

"I wouldn't worry about that."

"Riiiight." I waggle my eyebrows at him. "That's exactly what they'd want me to think."

He laughs. "Good luck," he tells me.

"I get the feeling I'll need it."

"You’ll be fine," he says after a moment, but I do not feel reassured.

 * * *

 I drive back to Gumption with the setting sun blazing in my rearview mirror. It slips out of view entirely and coats the sky in dusky purples that quickly fade to black, and then it's the figurative middle of the night. One-handed I manage to wriggle a cigarette out of the pack on the seat next to me and transfer it to my mouth and then feel around for my lighter, and then I groan and pull over. The guy at the rental desk at the airport had seen the pack of cigarettes in my hand while I was filling out the paperwork and told me very strictly that I had better not smoke in the car and I, of course, had managed to forget completely. It's a good thing I remembered before I lit up.

The night is cold but not unbearably so. I spend a long time there, leaning against the trunk of my car, cigarette in my hand but forgotten momentarily, staring up at the sky. There's so little light pollution out here that I can see what feels like all of the stars, practically, great scattered dustings of them sweeping across the whole of the night sky like someone had tossed them there. There's the Big Dipper, there's Orion, there's the Little Dipper... I think that bright one is Mars, maybe, it looks a little reddish. And that cluster there must be the Pleiades.

I take a breath and blow it out and realize exactly how tired I am. It's somewhere lurking in the back of my skull, right behind my eyes, coiled around my neck. If I closed my eyes I'd probably be able to fall asleep out here, right on the hood of the car.

I crack my neck and wince. The moon's bright and full tonight, at least, so I can still see the barren terrain all around me.

I consider the cigarette for a moment before I throw it to the ground and crush it out. I don't normally litter, really, I swear, but the exhaustion creeping over me is making me not care.

There's a long drainage ditch along the side of the road here, terminating in one of those white-concrete tunnels disappearing into the dirt, its mouth wide enough to swallow me whole if I felt like going down there. I stifle a yawn, kick a rock down into the ditch, and traipse around the side of the car, get in and start it up. From where I parked it, the headlights angle downward enough to reveal a sliced-pie cut of the inside of the tunnel and there, inside it, I see for only the briefest second a pale, wide-eyed face staring at me, along with a dark-jacketed body and a hand, curled there on the floor of the tunnel like a spider before, in a flash, the man retreats into the darkness deeper in the tunnel and is gone.

I can feel my heart beating out of my chest and I realize my mouth has dropped open. Real animal fear has seized me and my rational mind cannot jerk back the reins. I put the car into gear, fumbling first and sticking it in neutral, and then push the pedal all the way to the floor and roar off into the dark.

I was very lucky that there was no one trying to get to Mystery Flesh Pit that night, for I probably would have flipped the car trying to go around them. The closer I get to Gumption, the slower I drive, until finally I manage to get myself to stop the car just outside of town. I pull over again and get out, curling my lip at my shaking hands, and light up another cigarette.

It was just a homeless guy, hiding in a drainage ditch. I probably spooked the fuck out of him, pulling up right there on top of him and hanging out. He must be wondering what the fuck I was doing out there. Probably scared him more than he scared me.

Why did I wig out so bad anyway? I like to think I've got a pretty good nerve. Well, stress is a good excuse, I guess. Or perhaps it's because he was simply hiding down there, unknown, unnoticed, the whole time I was sitting there on the hood of the car, completely oblivious. He could have rushed out and attacked me, if he'd had the guts to, and I wouldn't have been able to do anything about it.

I take another drag at the cigarette and glare up at the stars again. Ursa Major, Orion, Pleiades. Sometimes, when it's quiet like this, I allow myself to think about what the coming year, or possibly years, if I'm lucky, will be like.

Whatever.

I crush the cigarette out and drive back into town, head back to my motel room. I feel better once I've showered and put on some shorts. I get into bed and pull the covers up, and even though they're the scratchy, weird-feeling covers used in seemingly every cheap motel in America, regardless of location, I drift off to sleep easily enough.

Continue with Part 2

Back to Table of Contents

[phantomphangphucker]

Ectober Day 16: Trip - The Green Sun Project Chap.9: Zone Bound Like A Ghostly Basset Hound

Danny needs to get a little more connected with his Zone.

The next thing Danny does is look around. Actually going into the Zone wasn’t really something people did. Considering the very air and literally all surfaces were pure ectoplasm, it wasn’t exactly safe for human travel.

Glancing around, not surprised at all the green just everywhere. ‘Huh, very green’, patting his chest, ‘thanks a shit ton for that save by the way. We should, uh, not stay in one place though. And this place is super not human safe, so if my body starts doing not fun stuff, you need to get me outta here’.

Getting a loud whine, ‘deadly?’ and soft accepting hum in response.

Danny nods his head and starts looking around for a landmass. Keeping the invisibility up and floating slowly once he spots one. ‘For a normal human, yeah. But if my idea that you can make me able to handle ectoplasm is right, then I should be totally fine. The Zone, here, is pure ectoplasm. Not as strong as what’s in ghosts or what you’re made outta, but still’. Swallowing and whispering, “normally any humans who come here wear full-body anti-ecto hazmat suits. Like what my parents’ wear all the time”, lifting up and glancing at a bare-skinned hand, “I should really be in a ton of pain right now. Like what I got from your green tendrils. Well, little less immediate than that”. His Core giving a worried whine; Danny just pats his chest comfortingly.

It doesn’t take long to make it to the little island, Danny poking the ground cautiously with his shoe before shrugging and landing on it. ‘If my folks ever find out about this, they’re gonna make me burn my clothing. What with how insanely contaminated they are by now’. Earning some bubbling from his Core.

It also doesn’t take much wandering to figure out that the island is not only small but most likely uninhabited. Meaning probably safe to crash on for a bit. Also noticing in this time, that his body feels kinda good, which is weird. It was kinda like he was getting a very faint full body massage with nice oils or something. Feeling it even on and in his bones, muscles, and Core. Though he’s not surprised by the constant slight tingle of sensing all the ectoplasmic energy around. Vaguely noting how it was stronger near things that logically had more ectoplasm.

Sighing and sitting to lean against a tree, decidedly one that felt lower in ectoplasm, grumbling a little, “Sam and Tuck are probably worried by now”, and flipping out his phone. Groaning at it, “no bars or internet, figures”. ‘Any clue what’s up with my body feeling nice? Is it just cause this place is technically part of you?’.

‘Only change absorbing ectoplasm’

‘Heh, must be on a pretty massive level then. Still weird’. Leaning his head back against the bark and closing his eyes. Guess he shouldn’t be surprised that his body liked absorbing ectoplasm, probably feeding his Core in a way. Yawning a little. ‘Hey, I think I’m gonna sleep for a bit. Make sure to wake me and feel free to yank me around if a ghost approaches us, okay?’. Grinning to himself over the soft hum.  

-

Danny’s not even slightly surprised to get awoken very suddenly. He somehow doubts those ghosts would just give up. Would make his life easier though.

‘COMING. Eye child’

‘Alright. Okay. Not good’. Turning to fly off he’s also not surprised to nearly crash right into the scythe-wielding ghost that just appeared out of nowhere; who also looks to have a stick now, with something that looks like a ‘CW’ and a tiny clock on it. Not even getting a chance to back off as his body just freezes in the air.

“I’m afraid the Observants believe you a threat to the Realms, Daniel. And the future seen hardly disagrees”. A mirror shaped something forming next to the ghost and flashing through scenes of destruction.

‘I- what?- that won’t?’. His Core just making some strange warbling static thing that he can’t make sense of. The ghost doesn’t hesitate or explain further before ramming the scythe through his back, it feels like all his veins are immediately on fire and he can both see and feel green electricity arching over his skin. Watching his Core get physically shoved out of his chest, blue and white tendrils tense and clearly trying to hold on to him before fizzing and snapping off.

A verifiable horde of Observants appears, one moving to slide the Core off the top on the scythe and cup it, while Danny collapses onto the small island; wheezing and a pool of blood forming around his chest from the hole speared through it. ‘Ah shit... this is so.. not how I saw this coming’. Sure he never expected to live very long but graduating would have been nice. Though he can appreciate the comedic value of being offed by a scythe of all things. Wielded by a ghost. That’s got to count for some kind of jokester prestige. Right? And hey, he will probably be the first human to actually die here. Oh he’s so totally going to wind up a ghost.  

Man, Sam and Tuck are going to be pissed.

-

The scythe-wielding ghost quirks an eyebrow and gives an almost inaudible pleased hum while the Observants back off as the Zone Core immediately starts vibrating wildly, making horribly unpleasant static and growling sounds; as if an entire pack of hellhounds were nipping at their heels over the backdrop of a static tv screen turned well past a-hundred. All of them covering their ears and hunching over, the Observants pupils widening when the Zone Core discharges massive amounts of green electricity in every direction.

“WHAT!”, none getting to say more than that as they all start getting speared and shocked, causing massive amounts of damage. The scythe-wielding ghost the only one successfully avoiding it, though the ectoplasmic air everywhere is becoming charged itself and is something utterly unavoidable.

“Well, this changes things”. They poof and appear looming over Danny, who’s still alive enough to glance at them, “it seems you are quite the unusual one. You’ve taken a path with less than one percent possibility of happening. The Observants, they believe only they, beings inherently incapable of biases, can control the Core without becoming a danger to the Realms. Without becoming power-hungry. The logical would find that quite a narrow-minded view to hold. Would it not be preferred to have one who cares? One who protects, guides, and teaches. Over ones who only watch?”, the ghost grins as some rocks get blown apart by a zap of lightning, “I think we may be of use to each other. To answer some of your questions, I, am ClockWork”, and poofs away, reappearing by the Zone Core; while Danny’s barely consciously widens his eyes. ‘A myth...’. Then passes out, his chest falling and not rising back up.

Many of the Observants glance at each other as the fabric of the Zone begins to shake. Glancing and seeming to squint at ClockWork’s sudden movement. One speaking up, “what are you doing. You’ve fulfilled your duties, now leave”, their voice sounding full of power and command.

“I’m afraid that is not what this one wants”, and raises their scythe over their head, the blade pointed away from the Zone Core.

“ClockWork!-”, the Observants get cut off by loud static drowning everything out and ClockWork slamming the side of the scythe on the Zone Core, sending It shooting down back towards Danny. It immediately ceasing the lightning and static, exploding with tendrils that squirm over the entire island trilling loudly all the while. ClockWork floating to be between them and the horde of Observants, a slight smirk across their face.

The Observants look from the Zone Core to ClockWork, one holding up a finger, “this is your fault now. What happens, you are responsible for it. And you will take the fall for it”.

“Yes. And you will merely observe. Nothing more. As you were meant to. Pariah is gone, and you are hardly replacements”.

“You plan to-”, the Observant not getting to finish as chunks of the island seemingly get pelted at them. Effectively forcing them to flee; unable to tolerate any more damage. As while they were something of a force to be reckoned with as a group, individually they were far less durable than ones like ClockWork.

-

Danny hacks and coughs, jerking to curl up in on himself and feeling like his ribs were being squeezed by a very aggressive anaconda. Groaning over the other feeling like lead was attempting to move through his veins. There’s no way he could even lift up his arm right now and he’s got no clue what the vaguely squirming blanket thing over him is. Blinking, he can barely even attempt at actually thinking words. Mostly it was just ‘ow’ and ‘ah’ and ‘fuck’.

Sucking in a breath as that almost gnawing emptiness in his chest gets practically slammed with weight and fullness and energy and power. It’s so much that he almost passes out again from it.

“You need to calm down, you’re overwhelming the poor boy”. Danny blinks over the vaguely familiar voice, though he can’t even begin to place it at the moment. But the squirming does slow down a little and the pressure in him feels less all-consuming. Wheezing a bit and actually managing to push himself up with his one arm after a bit, blinking at the purple cloaked smirking ghost before cringing and glancing to his chest. ‘Right. Core. Little...Star?’.

Flinching a little at the very loud, ‘HOME HOME HOME HOME HOME’ that’s so intense it’s almost gibberish to him.

The cloaked ghost hums, “the Zone Core has never been exposed properly to the Zone. As such It seems quite inexperienced in how to manage so much raw energy without the body of a mortal to filter it. And It expelled a very large amount of Its latent energy attacking us”, the ghost grins, “now I could take you two somewhere to expel the raw It doesn’t yet know to handle and gather ecto-energy that is more... suitable for your living body”.

Danny wheezes a little, muscles spasming, and feeling the vibration of invisibility coming and going; pretty sure neither him nor his Core is really in control of that. “So... you’re, not going, to off, me?”. The ghost -ClockWork, right? And wasn’t that a mind fuck they were supposed to be some kind of ghost god myth- nods before changing to look like a toddler and floating close to his face, “far be it for me to deny the Zone Core Its cores desires. To see It doing as It was, It would have depleted Itself for the one It cares for. Risk everything for the one It calls home. And I find it unlikely that you would do any differently. So, do you not deserve a chance?”.

Danny just blinks, this was probably the most positive interaction with a ghost he could imagine. A bunch of ghosts just had a spat over him. Oddly, he wonders what his parents would say. How they would try to explain this. Regardless he nods gently, fighting against the stiff tautness in his neck. The now adult ghost picking him up and practically cradling him. ‘No one is ever going to believe this. Ever. Ever. Literally the only ghost I could run into more extreme than this is freaking Pariah or a ViralHelm. But... I’d be super super dead’.

‘No. Never. STAY’

‘Little guy, I have zero intention of being around either of them. Or dying honestly. Ow’.

ClockWork chuckles very faintly, Danny decides against asking. The fact that every inch of him still feels like hot garbage only encourages that. Though he can’t help but whisper in awe, “woah”, when he sees where they’re going. A massive flowering plain covered in flowers of all different kinds and shapes, with glows that somehow shimmered, a red aroma wafting off the place and smelling like sweet succulent heaven. Him sniffing and leaning forward out of ClockWork’s arms, though wincing a bit at his Core vibrating and seemingly trying to pull him forward. Everything around It felt so raw. It honestly probably was raw. ‘Please stop pulling. You’re hurting me’

‘Want. HUNGRY’

‘I know. But I feel, like you’re gonna pull, yourself out of me’. That seemed to be enough to get the little guy to calm down some. Probably really heavily against the idea of being separated at the moment. Though to be fair, he was too. He still leans forward a bit more though, pointedly ignoring the tendrils hanging out over his skin; at least it didn’t hurt. He’s just going to assume they weren’t sinking in because of the full of raw ecto thing. Did his Core just not know how to process the Zones energy yet? Or was it because of him?

He mentally cuts himself off as ClockWork sets him down on the ground, kneeling and hands moving practically not of their own accord and jerky to cup one of the little flowers. ClockWork speaking as he shoves the flower in his mouth, it exploding like a fruit gusher and making him outright moan from the sweet thick white chocolate flavour and texture. “This is the Defted Plains. The epicentre of the Zone, if any place is the true point of origin for the Zone Core it is here, and the ectoplasm here is ultimately what the purified Zone core ectoplasm was pulled from to make the Zone Core”. Danny’s barely paying any attention as he rips up more of the flowers, stuffing them into his mouth more than a little eagerly. Though noting the tendrils around him are lifted off him a bit and stabbing into the ground; more flowers growing, uncurling, and popping open around them. And the pulsing going on in his chest is more than a little weird.

Side-eyeing ClockWork as they shift to a child and move to sit on his shoulder, obviously uncaring about him practically tearing up the ground and flowers like a starved animal, “while this may be replenishing the Zone Core, it is doing little for your own healing. The Zone Core will have to do that for you Itself. And I’m afraid there are certain complications that Maddie and Jack failed to grasp”, Danny can feel the back of that scythe pressing up against his back, “that a Core needs to be connected to provide support”, then pushing him at the ground; him immediately slipping through the ground like it was butter.

Danny can’t see anything other than himself and he appears to be glowing, and the tendrils, he can’t so much as twitch a finger but watching the tendrils shoot off him and seem to connect to something somewhere and becoming taut sticking out of him from his chest. ‘Alright. Okay, somethings going on here and I have no idea what. But... are you okay?’, feeling like all of his insides are squishing themselves or something, ‘oh Zone I’m hungry’, he’d really like to be able to swallow or anything right now, ‘this is your hunger I’m feeling right?’.

‘Some much-everything-is. Home fine. Here happy-mine’. Danny’s skin twitching violently is the closest he can get to shuddering from the harsh vibrations and nuzzling; hearing deep humming bordering on a purr that sounds like it’s coming from everywhere.

Danny doesn’t even get a chance to try responding to that, he’s pretty sure his Core is having a fair few issues ‘thinking’, as he feels like a video game cartridge that just got clicked into place and eyes mentally widening at the blackness being overtaken by being able to just see everything seemingly expanding out from him. He can see the edges of the Zone like he’s there but also not? It makes zero sense, but whatever that’s just his life, existence, whatever, now.

Then nearly vomiting from everything just seemingly snapping back inside him and rolling over on the little flowering plain area. The Defted Plains ClockWork called it? Grinning slightly more than a little aware of the thick heavy wetness in his limbs again. He’d gotten used to it but still, blinking at still being able to see, like, everything but it was like colourful static spiky wavy energy and was really in the background to what he’s actually seeing around him. ‘Mind trip holy shit. A druggie would be jealous of this, damn. At least I can tell what’s actually in front of me’ closing his eyes, he could still see the static energy stuff behind his eyelids, ‘fuck. This is a lot’. Sighing a little at the soft apologetic sounding whine. ‘It’s fine it’s fine. Just gotta give me a bit to deal’, swallowing, ‘so this is you huh? All of you? The Zone?’

‘Mine. Yes. Part of. Home more mine. Part home too’.

‘Alright cool. Guess the Zone’s part of me more than just having its Core. I can just feel the existential crisis coming’. That gets him some bubbling laughter, which makes him smile even if he still feels tired and so doesn’t want to get up.

Danny twitches a jerk at the sound of ClockWork’s voice startling him, “I would encourage you to head home. Before any curious ghosts come to check you out. You, or more so the Zone Core, is quite a big deal after all”.

Danny sighs and slowly pushes himself up, that action alone making him feel exhausted, “ghosts coming after me is going to be common bullshit for me now, isn’t it? And do I seriously seem like I’ve got the energy to be going anywhere?”, oh he can feel the sarcasm dripping off that.

ClockWork smirks, “that would be telling, wouldn’t it”, floating closer and jabbing his chest with their staff, “you may find yourself tired but the Zone Core hardly is, Daniel. Or should I call you Phantom?”, grinning, “no I think I won’t”.

Danny actually chuckles over that, he thinks he kinda likes this ghost. Looking down to his chest, “well? Feel like doing the portal shit again? You’re gonna have to puppet me around though, ‘cause my muscles feel like rubber”. He thinks ClockWork grins a little at that but when he looks they’re gone. His Core does bubble and crackle a little though, even if there’s a slight whine. Obviously little guy felt bad for all this, which yeah, he fucking died for a while there he’s pretty sure. Regardless he doesn’t fall over when his arms jerk out and the taut threads stabbing his bones feeling starts up, a portal swirling open; his body seemingly flinging itself through it. Landing on the sidewalk in front of his house, just outside of the shield around FentonWorks. Which he absolutely groans over. It’s also dark out. Which, fuck him, everyone was probably freaking out about his sudden MIA status.

Hence why he’s totally unsurprised when his parents and friends all run out to him. ‘Ah they probably thought my parents did some experiment thing on me or that I maybe got abducted by the G.I.W.. Nice to know they’d come running to my defence without hesitation’. His Core softly humming a happy agreement.

[in-a-cave-with]

do you have any fics to recc that arent stevetony? you have the beeeest taste ilu

apparently all my comics fic bookmarks are stevetony but also all my non comic marvel fic bookmarks AREN’T stevetony so that’s just. kind of weird. also a lot of these are irondad . also i added some fics that aren’t in my bookmarks which mean this post is going to be gigantic

for good by Madelinedear"Sorry, May, we can't all be best friends with a celebrity.”May opens her mouth to retort reflexively, the words 'we aren’t even friends' on the tip of her tongue before she closes her mouth. Because they are friends, now. They’re way past that point.Oh my god, she thinks somewhat hysterically. Tony Stark is my best friend.(or; Tony Stark, May Parker, and the road to something like friendship)rec note: this is THE marvel fic. THE fic i tell you,,,.

chocolate chip cookies (alternate words for i love you) by hopeless_hopeBeing a superhero, Tony has come to expect a lot of things. He can’t really afford to be surprised by too much; being flexible is just part of the job. Aliens attacking New York? Sure. People threatening to attack his home? Not uncommon. A teenage spider-kid baking cookies in his kitchen at almost three in the morning? Completely unexpected.rec note: PETER MAKING COOKIES NEVER MADE ME CRY SO HARD

the spider-man conspiracy by tempestaurora WHO IS SPIDER-MAN?The screen showed Peter Parker, sixteen years old and determined to prove the identity of Spider-Man over the course of the three-part documentary he was making, unknowing that it would become viral within days of the first part being released. Behind the camera, way off screen, was Harley Keener, Tony Stark’s other prodigy child, grinning like crazy as Peter started the documentary. Only a few people knew what was to come, and those few people were about to have a great few weeks.“My name is Peter Parker, and with the help of my friends, Ned Leeds, Harley Keener, and my Aunt, May Parker, who provided me with a lot of red yarn for this project, we’re going to uncover the identity of Spider-Man.”rec note: THIS FIC IS SO FUNNY!!!! I LOVE HARLEY IN FICS

5 Times Peter Made Tony Laugh Out Loud by grilledcheesing... and one time he did not.Post Spider-Man: Homecoming — Tony is just trying his damn hardest to keep this reckless kid from Queens safe, but it's hard when Peter is, occasionally, ridiculous as all hell.rec note: sof.....last chapter don’t interact....

if you love something, let it go by theprimrosepathBy now, the Avengers are well-acquainted with grief. But grief is a companion that rarely travels alone, particularly not around a prince.Really, grief is the least of Thor's problems.rec note: THOR MY POOR SON BOY SUN BOY :(((((((........

The Art of Publicity by xmypandabearAfter everything with the Accords, Tony Stark's reputation is in the toilet. Fortunately, he's got Spider-Man to make it better.(AKA Five times Peter and Tony's relationship made the internet implode a little)rec note: THIS FIC IS SO GOOD

We've Made It This Far, Kid by EmAndFandemsTony's just trying to protect the kid from SHIELD. Why does everything have to be so hard?Meanwhile, Peter's biggest problem is buying movie tickets, until he gets a harsh awakening.rec note: this fic is so good!!!!!! it feeds me in every way i want (also this was from the irondad big bang and i did art for it heyyyyy)

of nukes and goats by doingthewritethingsAs Tony find out, it’s hard to say no to teenagers who burst through a window into your lab and tell you they have made a grave mistake. (“We?” says Shuri. “There’s no ‘we’ in this mess, Pete.”)or, the one where Peter Parker buys a farm animal on a whim, and it almost leads to intergalactic doom.rec note: hey remember all the shuri & peter parker content we all made after infinity war? good times good times

We Drown Together by GalaxyThreads"...Sir?" Peter repeats, cautiously. The man licks his dry, split lips and then parts them, ragged breath escaping followed by a pleading whisper: "Help him."Odin arrives too late to save Thor and Loki from the plummet into the Void at the end of Thor 1, and both are captured and claimed by the hand of Thanos. Four years later, Peter Parker comes across two half-dead men wandering the streets of New York.rec note: this is such an interesting au!!! also, please give the brodinsons a hug.

Exclusive by copperbadgeHeroes In Manhattan: From Captain America's Hidden Talents To The Truth About The Hulk, We Debunk The Myths And Expose The Daily Lives Of The Avengers.rec note: ah yes, a classic! 

Stars, Hide Your Fires by YellowDistressStarks didn't create beautiful things.They created weapons that destroyed beautiful things. That was the way it had always been.But when the four-year-old's wide eyes blinked at him, Tony was struck with the sudden realization that maybe that had been a lie.rec note: this fic is part of a rlly long series that basically entails tony adopting peter after learning he’s his dad. i don’t really read a lot of bio dad aus (me reading irondad: it’s about the found family) but this is super good! it makes me feel a LOT 

buried alive by twoifT'Challa, king of the living, king of the dead, king of the in-between.The body is heavy. T'Challa's own trembles. He may not be able to support much more. He has been through so much already. Bast be with me, he curses. I have already borne so much today.But still, he carries Killmonger once more.rec note: SCREAMS i love t’challa so much

home training by theformeroneT'Chaka takes Erik back to Wakanda.Erik is a problem child.rec note: THIS IS SOOOOO GOOD!!!

Small Gods by LullabyKnell"Larger than life.They say that a lot, in the interviews and social media posts, when they talk about meeting Tony Stark. (Who’s ‘they’? Well, everybody, of course.) Shorter than they’d expected him to be, in person, but with a presence that makes him seem like... more.More than a regular celebrity, more than a man, more than a person - something big, something brilliant, something that’s already left a blazing mark on history."rec note: on god i am such a slut for tony character studies in fics

Remembering September by sunbean72As Tony confronts his past demons using BARF, Peter’s enhanced senses allow him to experience the world differently from others. When BARF malfunctions and someone needs to rescue Tony, Peter might be the only one who can save him.rec note: now that ffh came out this fic becomes uncanon but it’s canon in my heart

Stray by MemoryDragonJim Rhodes went out to get some studying done at the library. He ended up with a best friend.rec note: *clutches heart* OH

He's My... Intern? by losingmymindtonightA kid from Queens was all it took to melt the ice around Tony Stark's frozen heart.--A series of oneshots that delve into the relationship between Tony Stark and Peter Parker as their lives begin to merge.rec note: hhhhng. HHHHNG. HHHHHHH

Then How Do YOU Explain Peter? by Asphodelia“I DID NOT HAVE SEX WITH A SPIDER, THOR.”rec note: this fic made me laugh really really hard. also i’m 90% sure thor’s just trolling all of them

In Your Corner by asterismsFive adults who try to be the reasonable authority figure Peter needs in his life post-homecoming and one who was there all along.rec note: UGH i have many feelings....about spidered man.....

the one where Tony breaks Captain America by singingwithoutwordsTony and Rhodey have been in a committed relationship since Tony was sixteen. This is apparently news to Steve(and also the rest of the team).rec note: why is there not more rhodeytony fic. this is a crime.

Hypothetically, I'm a Role Model by madastheseaFor lack of better options, Tony asks Clint a question about kids.rec note: yes i know mcu clint is a rat. i still adore this fic because i can tastefully ignore his canon characterization

The A-Team Challenge by Isnt_it_pretty_to_think_soTony Stark just wants to keep Peter Parker on the down low. Heaven forbid Spiderman do something stupid, like go viral.OR: Peter Parker accidently patents the superhero equivalent of the ice bucket challenge.rec note: THE only cacw fixit ever

Small Town by ifitwasribaldIn the aftermath of Extremis and the Mandarin and Killian, a town keeps Tony's secret.rec note: honestly i just. really really like tony and his potato gun son

Pretend We're In Love (The Heartache Still Hurts) by InsaneJuliannRhodey's dad is dying, and what he's always wanted is for Rhodey to be happily married. Tony and Rhodey were best friends, and haven't spoken in years. But after a chance meeting at the airport, and a desperate, insane idea on Rhodey's part, they end up pretending to be engaged.But how much of it is really pretend?rec note: rhodeytony in this fic are like. ahaha what if we fake-kissed....but we’re still secretly pining for one another...

Time Past by flute25After the events of Dark World, Loki has deposited Odin at the Shady Acres retirement community.And that - should be that.But the pull of family (not his family) is strong, and Loki soon finds himself a regular visitor at the decrepit institution.After all, Odin is enchanted, and what harm can there be in finally telling the old man what is on his mind without any repercussions?What harm, indeed?rec note: lokiiiiiiiii :((((((((

An Eggscellent Adventure by flute25Loki teaches Thor about a new Midgardian cooking method as the two sons of Asgard settle into their new home at Stark Tower.Post-Infinity War/A4. Thanos is dead, everyone else is alive, and the sun is shining on us again.rec note: LOKIIIIIIIII!!!!!!!!!

Tony Stark is the New Tokyo by CiderSkyTony Stark has a complicated relationship with moths.rec note: this is a pretty old fic but also. MOTHS FLYING AROUND THE ARC REACTOR

This Tiny Bird by battybatzgirlYou can never be too sure of what teenagers do on dates these days. Good thing Tony is excellent at being stealthy.(He's NOT overprotective. He's not.)rec note: ahhhhhhhhh

The Adventures of Captain Crowbar and Spider-Man by ciaconnaaPeter gasps. “It's like you're psychic. A super-powered brain. You sure you aren’t an Avenger, too?”“No. And the answer to the next question, 'Is Spider-Man an Avenger?' is also, no.”“I’m an honorary Avenger, Em. It’s a big deal.”“Stark comes up with fancier ways to say lackey every single day.”or;When Michelle gets mugged and hit over the head with a crowbar, she's gifted with a concussion. It's not a fun time. Luckily, she has Spider-Man's number.rec note: this starts out as spideychelle but is part of a series that’s a mcu/brooklyn nine nine crossover which makes me so happy

the sky collapsed but the stars remain by ciaconnaaOn the day of the Snap, Harley Keener watches his mother turn to dust.With a duty to look after his younger sister, the two of them abandon the wilting town of Rose Hill in search of Tony Stark. Because if Harley helped him before, he can damn well help him again. Tony's a mechanic. He fixes things.To put it simply, they have to fix this.rec note: oh, my feelings,

...two birdbrained heroes and a spider in a stark tree by ciaconnaaThis year, the first Christmas after Thanos, the Avengers decide to do gifts by simply doing a Secret Santa for their Christmas party. And it's just Peter's luck that he drew Mr. Stark's name.rec note: THIS IS THE POST ENDGAME FIC THAT I SHOULD’VE GOTTEN. GODDAMN YOU R*SSOS FOR K WORDING TONY ISTG

potato guns and repulsers by gossamernotesHarley Keener was four when his dad left.Five when Tony Stark became Iron Man.And ten when said superhero broke into his garage and demanded a sandwich.Life, after that, was never the same.[The story wherein Harley Keener thinks over his life and watches where it goes after he meets the one and only, Tony Stark. It doesn't really go the way he planned.]rec note: this makes me so soft

Restless Night by Fernandidilly_yoSometimes even heroes can't sleep, but that's alright because there is always someone else awake and nearby.Or: Five times Tony couldn't sleep and the one time he did.rec note: you may notice a pattern of “not a lot of these fics are angsty! wow!” this one kind of is

Silence is Golden by GloriousBlackoutPeter doesn't say a word during his first six months with the Ravagers. Yondu learns to adapt to having a silent shadow following him around.rec note: DAD YONDU AND SMOL QUILL

Watch Our Souls Fade Away by GloriousBlackoutNebula and Tony struggle to come to terms with everything they've lost as they make the journey back to Earth.rec note: this fic was written before endgame but I SWEAR. THE WAY NEBULA AND TONY ARE WRITTEN BY THIS WRITER I CRY

All You Distrust, All You Save by GloriousBlackoutNebula could be forgiven for hoping things couldn't get much worse than being stranded in space with a man she barely knows and little chance of rescue. Unfortunately, the universe has a habit of proving her wrong.Missing scenes from Nebula and Tony's difficult journey back to Earth.rec note: please i am fragile,

All That's to Come by GloriousBlackoutIn the aftermath of Tony's funeral, Nebula tries to comprehend her feelings of loss and ends up meeting a little girl who's grown up hearing stories about her.rec note: I’M NOT OKAY. I’M NOT FUCKING OKAY

Lazarus, come forth by iron_spiderTony's mind is a chaotic mess but he remembers the moment—remembers his death, remembers the red hot pain and Peter screaming, Rhodey rushing to his side. How he knew he’d never see Pepper again—but they’d fixed it. They’d fixed the world, erased the lost time, set things right—and the kid was back. The kid was crying, the kid hated him for doing what he did, but he was back. He was alive.rec note: this isn’t an endgame fixit but....i also read this around 10 times after endgame because. yeah. also here comes the iron_spider spam

dear mr. fantasy by iron_spiderTony worries his brain is misfiring, transporting him across time and space in one final insane journey. He swallows hard, and he hears those garbled voices again. He can’t make out words, or tone, or who the hell is talking, but somebody definitely is, and it sounds strangely like they’re underwater. Or he is. He grits his teeth and turns around, and before he can even begin to trudge over towards Peter’s room, he’s stopped in his tracks. By a door. In the middle. Of the living room. Straight up and down like a monolith, just beside the glass coffee table. Tony chews on his lower lip and stares at it. “Well that’s new,” he says, still rooted to the spot.rec note: listen i swear i’m not going to just rec every single iron_spider longfic *does exactly that*

the rattle of their hearts by iron_spiderTony deals with the aftermath of Infinity War. He needs to get things back to normal. And Peter is an essential part of normal.rec note: this is one of the first marvel fics i read and i started reading it while it was being updated and i was SHAKING in ANTICIPATION and i SCREAMED several times i just. h,,,hhh.. this is an infinity war fixit but it’s miles better than endgame

Stark's Home for Wayward Animals by iron_spiderTony narrows his eyes and turns the corner. Peter is splayed out on the third stair, in his Spiderman suit sans the mask, soaked to the bone. His hair is plastered to his forehead, he’s shivering, and he’s holding a gray cat clutched to his chest.Tony stares at him. Both Peter and the cat are looking at him, wide-eyed, and then the cat meows again, breaking the silence.“What’s happening right now?” Tony asks.rec note: CAT CAT CAT CAT CAT CAT CAT CAT CAT

ever in your favor by iron_spiderHe remembers what day it is, and his heart beats like a drum at someone’s execution. But he tries to put on a mask, make it all seem normal. It’s everything but, despite the fact that he’s been dealing with reaping day since he was born, between himself, Ben and May. That fear that one of them could be taken away. Sent to surefire slaughter. But now Ben is gone, taken despite never having his name drawn from a bowl, and May’s finally safe. Now Peter’s name is in there alone. The last Parker sitting on the chopping block. He doesn’t know how to be. He doesn’t know what normal is, when the Hunger Games are looming on the horizon.rec note: ghhghfjkgf this fic is so top notch...it gave me so many feelings....it GAVE ME CAROL&TONY RIGHTS?? FROM AN MCU FIC???? LITERALLY THE DREAM ??

5 times Peter is stuck with Tony by iron_spider(...and one time he’s stuck alone.)“I wonder if Pepper’s reported me missing yet,” Tony says, with an exaggerated sigh. “I wonder if this is some kind of scheme to kidnap me or something.”“I think the ride’s just broken,” Peter says.“Today of all goddamn days,” Tony says, exasperation clear in his voice and in his eyes. “Ruining our trip—”“It’s not ruined,” Peter says. “Look, we’re hanging out."“Real quality time,” Tony huffs. “Us, a few other trapped members of the general public, and a handful of animatronic pirates. Drunk pirates. Repeating themselves.”rec note: this fic is a RIDE. i laugh in one chapter and then my feelings get vibe checked in the next.

what if there is no tomorrow? by iron_spider"We're in a time loop. I'm Bill Murray. I remember everything, you guys don't, we're...we are trapped. We're trapped, buddy. I've done this over and over. And over. And over and over and over. I don't know how to fix it. So I'm...giving up. I make snow angels now. And that's it."rec note: this fic made me like justin hammer. it’s done the fucking impossible.

[ofravensandgenesis]

The Investment of an Antagonist - Part One

Entry 04. [Trigger warning content: post contains discussion of Far Cry 5 details including cannibalism, graphic violence, brainwashing, torture, child abuse mention, neglect, mentioned fatalistic/suicidal character pov, dark backstories, etc. Spoilers naturally. Part 01 of 03.] [Link to part two here.] [Link to part three here.] I was cooking dinner and had the sudden EUREKA moment of trying to figure out what exactly I want with regards to an antagonist for an original fic setting. Originally I was going to have a general state of conflict between two nations/city-states/etc on a larger, more impersonal scale, but that didn’t do anything to really interest me in that level of conflict. So I was thinking on why Far Cry 5′s villains and the conflict interests me so, and the eureka moment was realizing that they as villains have a personal stake in all this, and go about it in ways that are reflective of their stories. Specifically for the Seeds, it has me realizing it’s more interesting to me when the villain is acting due to personal motivations of an emotional nature and/or relating to their belief system, and in ways that compliment those internal motivations that can build out into or off of their backstories and other areas of the tale.

Like, it’s more than just a universally formulaic method of brainwashing for all of the people they kidnap during the Reaping (and before it, since it’s a cult and that means there’s a process of indoctrination, ie brainwashing.) All of the Heralds have their specific manner of doing so, and said methods are tailored to the particulars of each Herald’s backstory as is revealed to us.

— Jacob —

Jacob starves the Deputy and other “recruits,” exposes them to the elements, doesn’t give them enough water, keeps them near hungry and dangerous animals (pre-Judge wolves and Judges it seems.) He then gives them a bowl of raw meat that one can read as implied to be human flesh, particularly if Pratt’s anecdote about going hunting in what ends up being not-a-dream from online sources is taken into consideration, as mentioned in a previous writing-about-writing post. Link here to the audio, (credit and thanks to hopecountyradio,) transcription below: “I had a dream once that Jacob took me on a hunt. We shot some deer and he asked me to skin 'em. As I was cuttin’ ‘em open they changed. It wasn’t deer. I...I don’t think it was a dream.”

Obviously one can make some assumptions of Whitetail Militia imagery being used here, particularly given that one of the slides on the projector screens during the Trials includes a picture of Eli with antlers iirc (that may be only during the later trials or the last one, I am uncertain.) Ties right into the whole “the weak must be culled,” and “you are meat,” slogans Jacob’s got all over the place. The “only you” slogans and graffiti could also serve to foster the loneliness and isolation aspect of making the choice “to make the sacrifice” ie, the symbolic choice of killing Miller, or his surrogate equivalent in the case of everyone else that Jacob puts through his trials. I haven’t seen a lot regarding Miller’s ties to Jacob from in-game content but I could have missed something easily. The wiki labels Miller as Jacob’s friend, though I wish we had more detail on that. Most certainly, Miller was a member of Jacob’s unit, which based off of some reading and browsing on the internet, should still be a pretty close tie whether or not they were friends. The following speculation is based on my own interpretations of the matter and I have no history of serving in the Armed Forces, so if I’m mistaken or such feel free to drop me a line to let me know. Continuing: even if they theoretically hated each other’s guts, they were still a part of the unit, a part of the Army. That means they and their other brothers-in-arms lived together and fought together. They ate as a group, slept as a group, watched each others’ backs while on watch or during a firefight, fought along side each other, and did their best to keep each other alive while fulfilling the mission objective, working together as individuals brought together in a cohesive unit that also was a part of the whole. They all knew they had each others’ backs and that the others did the same for them in turn. Shifting between life-or-death situations and more peaceful times, it creates a bond and social structure that is very unlike most common, modern civilian social structures. There certainly at least seems to be a bit of culture shock in the US between the two environs, and Jacob seems to have experienced that, based on what we hear of his backstory in The Book of Joseph of having little to no support once back in civilian life (ie: deeply traumatized and staying in veteran hospitals until he ran out of money and ended up in homeless shelters) after being discharged from the Army. In the Armed Forces it’s about the group, rather than the individual. Imagine having that, knowing that, after being through all that Jacob has potentially been through. To have brothers in arms if not by blood by his side who he protects, who also protect him against the hostility of the world they’re fighting against. This is not to ding Joseph or John as characters by the way, all three of them were children at that point and shouldn’t have had to deal with any of that. Jacob loses what ties of family he holds dear with his blood brothers once he’s put into Juvie, perhaps makes friends there but is likely on his own once he’s out again, with very poor prospects given his history, and then he enlists. He’s alone and without support before he joins the military, and then suddenly he’s in an environment where there IS a form of support, and it’s predictable and structured down to the last bootlace (note: that’s a very broad statement and does not include variance and personal experiences, nor possible issues with potential power abuse or other flaws that might arise in such group structures.) Imagine Jacob being in the Army long enough to get used to that, to enjoy that aspect of it all, to share the camaraderie of bitching about the heat of the sun, sand in their socks, and getting yet another package of their least favorite MRE while trying to wheedle a trade with someone else for something better. Imagine him doing that with Miller, knowing how the other man likes the sugar cookie desserts in one MRE package and hates how the chocolate bars melt from the desert heat in another. Knowing what each others’ tells and bluffs are from playing poker on their down time while on a tour. Swapping stories about home...and noticing who doesn’t want to talk about the life they had before enlisting. Talking about the things they miss, the people they miss. Knowing who snores, who’s a light sleeper, all those things you learn when you’re in close proximity to a person for perhaps up to two years or so depending on deployment length. It could also be they’ve been deployed together more than once, as Jacob certainly went out on multiple tours per The Book of Joseph once again. Imagine Jacob knowing all of that and more about Miller. Then, day after day after day of being lost in the desert, with starvation eating away at their rationality, that hollow pain in their guts as their bodies start burning through their own cells and reserves to try to stay alive, running out of water and having to take chances with any drinking source they can find in the environment and having to expend precious energy to try or die early from dehydration, probably not sleeping well from the hunger, exhaustion, stress, possible enemy presence, dangerous wildlife... The brain starts shutting down real quick once we don’t have the resources it needs to run optimally. Some faster than others, but in Jacob and Miller’s case, their ordeal is definitely long enough to put them into that mindset of feeling that primal fear of a slow death by famine, weakness, scarcity. The psychological toll would have been heavy without a doubt, and that might’ve been compounded by experiences in Jacob’s childhood if his parents were not dutiful in buying food more regularly, which easily could be the case. Old Mad Seed needs more whiskey this month to fuel his raging, drunken fits of spewing biblical verses in a tyrannical fashion? There goes the money for the last few days of food. Easily could be how Jacob got into stealing candy (and likely also food in that case) for himself and his brothers. So Jacob would have a good idea of some of what’s coming down the pipe in that case. He knows how long the trip is, can reckon how fast the two can travel. Maybe he starts out hopeful in a grim way to start... ...but over time as things get more and more desperate (and it could be a familiar desperation he’s felt before as a kid going hungry, only worse,) “And I looked at Miller and I could tell we were as good as dead. And I accepted that. And in that acceptance...came clarity.” That clarity could very well be that Jacob decided that morality was futile if it meant you didn’t survive, which could very well be a very world-breaking revelation for him, since he is mentioned in his backstory to have had a praiseworthy sense of honor among other things. Certainly is potentially spirit breaking to go from being the older brother, the brother-in-arms who relied on and was relied on, who was trusted, to being a betrayer of that trust. A Judas, one could say, as he calls Pratt in his video after Pratt has helped the Deputy escape. And what does Jacob make the Deputy become, in relation to Eli? Eli, the man the Deputy was rescued by, was aided by, has been working alongside this entire time. Eli, who trusts and relies on the Deputy. Eli, who it could be said betrayed Jacob’s friendship with him by choosing not to hand over the Whitetail Militia and join Eden’s Gate (from Jacob’s perspective, based on his final fight dialogue.) “Hey. Only you could have gotten this close. Only you could have earned his trust. It was always only ever you. Good work. You did it. You passed your test. You made your sacrifice. But now...you’re alone. And you’re weak. And we know what happens to the weak.” That might seem contradictory at first, since in theory making the sacrifice should make one “strong” by Jacob’s line of reasoning, one might think. But the Deputy is a “traitor” now—to the Whitetail Militia by brainwashing (temporarily as we the audience know, pending Jacob’s death,) and to Jacob by choice, if one takes the following lines from Jacob into consideration: “You’ve forgotten your purpose, Deputy. You were on the path of the Chosen but now you’ve strayed. Fear did this to you, but don’t worry, I can help with that. I can remove your fear and give you strength. It’s not too late. Come back to me. Remember your purpose.” ”Deputy, know that I still have hope for you, but if you continue to support Eli and his merry band of cowards, that hope will cease to exist. Your judgement is cloudy because your mind is weak, but I have confidence you’ll make the right choice in the end. If not—you’ll all pay in blood.” Link to the audio for the above two lines here (credit and appreciation to hopecountyradio once more.) As with the other Seeds, Jacob starts out trying to persuade the Deputy to “see the light” and join the Project, but as with all of them, as the resistance meter rises and we draw closer to the final confrontation with him, he and the others abandon that idea in favor of trying to end the Deputy instead. So in this possible interpretation, it could be that Jacob views both the Deputy and Eli as traitors both. However...the two situations while both likely quite weighty with the Deputy being “the chosen one” to kick off the Collapse (or a herald of the Collapse if one wants to be cute with wording,) and Eli being an ex-good-friend or perhaps even ex-best-friend of Jacob’s, are potentially vastly different in emotional weight to Jacob. The Deputy is all tied up with this Collapse business, and while Jacob isn’t sure if Joseph talks to God, he does support him, what with being a Herald in the cult and all that. It involves the fate of the family, and in particular, Jacob’s family—his brothers and sister. Eli, however, Jacob has known for a while, likely years, back during the construction of the bunkers which Eli helped with, possibly and likely before then. I personally lean towards interpreting that as they struck up the beginning of a friendship, and Jacob hired Eli and his crew to help with the construction of the cult’s bunkers. Where they had their falling out is less clear as far as I’m aware. It could be it was during or after construction that Eli got a bad feeling about all of this Eden’s Gate business, or perhaps even as late as the beginning of the Reaping if that’s when Jacob gave Eli the “chance” to hand over his Whitetail Militia members, as mentioned in his final boss battle red-bliss section. That could’ve been the breaking point for Jacob and Eli, and if Jacob was expecting Eli to side with him due to friendship and perhaps some shared beliefs...perhaps Jacob took that...poorly. And by poorly I mean went full out on revenge of having Eli killed by betrayal of someone he’d chosen to trust—someone that Jacob had already gotten his hooks into. Someone Eli needed, in this fight against Jacob. Someone like the Deputy. The Deputy, who’s been put through starvation, exposure, and ingrained through conditioning and likely a liberal use of Bliss to facilitate said conditioning, to hunt. To train. To kill. To sacrifice. “You take away a man’s basic needs, and he will revert to his primordial instinct in just ten days.” [Chuckles.] “Ah, that’s a difficult thing to understand unless you’ve lived it...” This is what Jacob is putting the “recruits” and the Deputy through—his revelation. His experience. His choice. In the end as Jacob succumbs to his injuries, he is weak, he is dying, and he knows it, looking at the Deputy in his final scene. This time, he is the one who is sacrificed, by the Deputy, and in Jacob’s eyes by Joseph, to either try to end the chaos spread across the county, or to break a seal respectively. Jacob’s death is a means to an end—as Miller’s was. And Jacob “accepts that,” as he puts it. Does he accept it because now he’s betrayed the trust and faith of potentially two people he might’ve been close to? Miller, and then Eli? Is Jacob conditioning the Deputy during that red-bliss sequence of his boss fight to kill Jacob, based on how there are bliss-hallucinations of Jacob to shoot while destroying the beacons? There’s the generic Whitetail fighter, Judges, and Jacob himself scattered across the landscape before ending that sequence as far as I’m aware. Both Jacob and the Whitetail fighter present could be interpreted in this line of thinking as echoing the supposed betrayal of both sides and being “alone” against the world in a nightmarish fashion while Jacob potentially tries to break the Deputy through talking and said nightmare. The way Jacob talks though...is he strictly speaking to us, or is the Deputy actually a mirror as it were, with the things Jacob says being applicable to himself? “Don’t you find it ironic that everyone you try to help ends up worse off? Eli...Pratt...Tragedy just follows you. If you really wanted to keep people safe, be a hero...you’d just off yourself. Safer for everyone that way.” Is Jacob REALLY talking to us, or to himself through a medium? Through a glass darkly, as it were. He “tried” to “help” Eli and Pratt, in his twisted fashion, by trying to get Eli previously to join the Project and to make Pratt strong enough via brainwashing to also join the Project, which in Jacob’s perspective if he’s following his and Joseph’s dogma, is the only way to survive the Collapse. But Jacob has failed, repeatedly, to protect the people he held dear—his family. His friends. He’s become the threat they need protecting from. He has irrevocably perhaps proven to himself that under the right circumstances? He’s willing to betray people he holds dear for his own survival. Would he betray his family? That is the question, isn’t it. Perhaps Jacob fears finding out. Maybe he fears, that under the right circumstances, he would. Maybe that’s why he goes so willingly to be Joseph’s sacrifice, in part. Maybe having orchestrated Eli’s death, the death of yet one more person whom he was once friends with, yet one more person Jacob himself has betrayed, maybe Jacob doesn’t want to continue either. Maybe that’s the last straw, the nail in the coffin of underlying beliefs that Jacob is inherently not someone who can be fully trusted. Maybe he genuinely thought Eli would join him if given the chance. Maybe Jacob was still hollow and brittle as hell from the first time he’d killed a friend, when he killed Miller. All the Seeds bear the weight of their pasts heavily, and Jacob’s no exception. Jacob survived the first time, barely. He survived the second time, but not by long. He starts talking about his potential death at the Deputy’s hands quite early on during the red-bliss segment. Neither John nor Faith nor Joseph to my knowledge do so. Maybe he was waiting for the Deputy to be strong enough to finish what no one else could. Maybe that was what he wanted. “There’s no “win” for you here. It all ends bloody. For everyone. You die now, or you die later. It’s up to you. But either way? You won’t die a hero.” Perhaps that line from Jacob also is one of the things he fears most—dying without purpose. Dying being not a hero, a person who’s done good for others, but rather the opposite. Ironically so, given that he and his family are all in the torture and brainwashing business, but Jacob in particular gave up on being a good person a long time ago, I think, even by the cult’s standards. [Link to part two here.] [Link to part three here.]

[all-hail-the-witcher]

You guys are friendship goals how do you make internet friends saph

okay story time this is the progression of mine and @papesdontsellthemselves friendship (complete with pictures)

so once upon a time (actually it was november of last year) i was a Sad high school senior drowning my sorrows in my tumblr account as newsies royalty while i stressed over my college applications and auditions. most of my pastimes included 1. writing shitty fics 2. reading good fics and 3. listening to bad music from 2012. and i happened to stumble upon some newsies pics as one does by Someone called @papesdontsellthemselves or, as was listed in the bio “Mikey” 

nevertheless i binge read all of them at approximately 2am on a school night and probably fell asleep in ap euro the next morning. i very much liked his fics. they were slappy. and i started to stalk his account, as any normal person would.

and once or twice or several times, as any person who runs out of ideas does, he asked for prompt requests. and me, being a sad fangirl of this poor bois account, decided to send him some. (he still has one that he never answered) and he wrote a few of them. this one was my favorite go read it (i think i inspired this one) 

and then one day i opened my tumblr acc and THIS was waiting for me:

and i think i was like KJHSJHASLHJGDSLKH WH

then you know some time went by as time does and we sort of awkwardly coexisted. i actually was within like 10 minutes of him for a college audition before we knew each other that was pretty wild.

and then

the fateful day

i was sitting in ap stats, bored out of my mind, and decided to ignore the lesson on z scores or whatever it was cause what the fuck else are you supposed to do in ap stats and go on tumblr (seriously do not take ap stats its terrible, its an acid trip, i barely passed that class) and i had a message waiting for me from the one and only @papesdontsellthemselves that said something like:

“lol sorry to bother you chief but how to you put your tag lists on your pics so they dont take forever ooo sorry!!” 

and i was like ssksksksjskskjsk why is tumblr royalty @papesdontsellthemselves talking to me, a lowly peasant, and i may have freaked out for a hot sec but then i responded something like 

“i have it in a google doc and then hit the down arrow and the return key really fast lol”

(only recently he revealed to me that he didnt actually give a shit about my tag list (r00d) and that he just wanted an excuse to talk to me and That was what he came up with and he screamed after he sent the message cause he was so scared. also he was in theater with his weird shoeless teacher not paying attention. we’re good students i promise.)  

and then we got to Talking and we just didnt Stop talking? like i told him about jeff, my shitty english teacher and he told me about his theater teacher who made them do 9/11 shakespeare and we bonded and then we sent each other pictures of our dogs: 

mikeys dog, leela (aka leeks Big Chonk) ^^

my dog, lacey ^^

and we also went through The Awkward Stage

but then

a miracle happened

twas christmas eve, about like idk 3pm and the two of us were Awkwardly Conversing as awkward internet friends do and i was getting changed for christmas eve dinner (cause my family Extra and you have to be Fancy or face the Wrath of the Elders) and I'm digging through my closet looking for something Presentable when discover The Pencil Skirt. 

it twas a rather unsuspecting article, green wool with faint plaid stripes, and hand-me-down from some aunt, and i decided to put it on because i had limited fancy clothes and didnt wanna do a repeat from a previous year. so i added my One White Button Down Shirt and some black dance tights and called it a day. 

so then me, being me, was messaging mikey and said (keep in mind were still practically strangers and had been barely talking for a week):

“wow i actually look kinda hot right now like maybe someone would bang me. like, I'm not into that, but I look good enough that someone might consider it.”

yes

me, an asexual, said that to a total stranger on the internet.

what were you Thinking saph.

truly, i have no idea.

but for some reason, instead of being scared away (like a normal sane person should be) mikey laughed and we began calling each other daddy. i dont know okay, it was a wild experience. I'm not sure if it actually happened.

so, my skirt became The Daddy Skirt, a tragic symbol of our strange friendship, and the two of us exited the Awkward Stage.

truly it was an exciting time:

and then we gave each other nicknames. the sappy kind not the cursed kind. mikey was bean cause he was a coffee bean and cocoa bean addict. and i was originally shrub and then bear and finally peanut. im not sure why. he isn't either.

boi also Literally guessed my real name. like straight up. and i was like “o word.” it was trippy. 

AND THEN twas a cold february day when we decided to exchange faces. i send him a picture of me eating a christmas tree. he sent me a picture of him in his kitchen wearing sun glasses frat boy posing. truly iconic.

we also liked to look up weird things late at night and have revelations about dumb shit, as seen by these Unexplained Screenshots i have on my phone:

yes those are real screenshots

then we decided to finally talk on instagram instead of this hell site and i was exposed to mikeys finsta *shudder*

nothing much else interesting happened until: College *dun dun dunnnnnn* 

(except for that one time i had a mental breakdown at 1am and he drove home form some party to ig call me and tell me about the time his dog ended up in solitary confinement. a true g)

so for Safety Reasons, i finally gave milky my number when i got to school and we started texting and Facetiming which was a Trip.

i also sent him a Box of Cursed Content. he tried to send the box back to me in october and it still hasn't arrived. we think it may be in antarctica.

and then we tried to coordinate to meet up like three (3) separate times before We Got Lucky, the Stars Aligned, and we held hands in the back of an a&f

(we also hugged in a nordstrom in like the Fancy Clothes Section and the lady thought we were definitely dating cause we took pics of us hugging in the fuckin mirror pillar. also i almost lost my wallet but thats another story.)

and next year our wild journey will continue (hopefully) 

in conclusion i love mikey and this has been a sappy post

[weaselle]

pay no attention to this collection I just need to post it so I can find it

hit walls and floor... tall inside of my skull; if I never fall at all, clever's awfully dull - so if "push" says the door you'll be watchin' me pull - 'cause I only shop for china when I'm walkin' with bulls

Order me sit? dope, I'm askin' how high; I out right hope my notes are causin' outcry - where do I fit? miles as the cow flies - statistically shit, climbin' slopes to outlie

___________________________________________

I can juggle knives, and proselytize, and wink my eyes in flirth (or mix words like mirth and flirt, like, ask what planet Dirt is wearth) I can lift a person by their soul, or... even let them down; I can fit myself to any role: demon, prophet, clown. I can write like frightened squid, or read a book from any shelf- but a lifeguard out at sea can drown, and I can't save myself

_____________________________________________________

I want an adventurous crew, less than 100 and much more than 2; I've got an idea or four to do and believe that "to lead" isn't "ordering you" - I want be thicker than thieves: if one of us cries, everyone grieves; stacked deck for success, form small companies so that every ace dealt goes up all of our sleeves - I wish I had Boromir's horn; I stand full of arrows, small and forlorn I'd summon an army as sure as you're born and we'd rend every obstacle / mend what is torn

__________________________________________________________

yo when it's late I don't know if debate is a pro that I'm prone to or con I conflate; yawn ok great it's the dawn of new date too soon gone like a pawn in a perilous state - do I wander or wait, keep closed yonder gate or transpose these ten toes 'til exposing my fate? if not off to bed nodding off head berates and refuses to do more than snooze/obfuscate

___________________________________________________________

I don't have time enough to tell the clock to stop its ticking talk, while I'm sublimely sleepy, still ensconced in twos of shoes and socks; I'm staring off in awful need of themes that breed these searing thoughts- I breathe more air when all unfair reality congeals and clots; when sleep is claustrophobic, fear near stoic in its static stay, I ride my nightmares into mounts more suited to the dreams of day

_____________________________________________________________

time for me to be known from home to home, on the campaign trail like when Romans roam, I'mma do the damn thang, prevail and own every twist in this life-line vine I've grown

______________________________________________________________

sick like a little bit with a bad tum and sniffle it's not a badda-boom bat beating but a wiffle hit; sleep like the bleeping sheep gotta wring it outta me, sore like a freaking score that you sing without a "c".

________________________________________________________________

i got nothing to say, i'm all bluff in this play, i mean i'm here to swerve some verse it's clear i'm thumpin' away at the buttons with the letters on whenever it’s day like a cat attacks a sweater, just pretending it’s prey - I need to catch the thing I’m chasing, like, it’s gotta get caught, and so I jot it down a lot to try to capture the thought; but though the plot is often written out in dashes and sketches, i rarely cash in those checks, i need more carry than fetches, so I’m dreamin’ and dumpin’ out all the schemin’ or somethin’ and like, even if it’s meaningless these keys I’ll keep thumpin

__________________________________________________________________

with the internet i’m magic and i’m casting a spell call a song out of the air to here as clear as a bell private playlist from the A-list like i’m famous as hell making music moving quickly so I’m faster as well

_________________________________________________________________

“oh no” I shout “Where’s Trusty my phone?” I don’t know the whereabouts, must be shown- adjusted the tone of the ring to silence now trying to find it brings me to violence; really need to locate as I motivate to go today I throw the flippin’ sofa pillows hopin’ for a stowaway... but oh no way it’s gone I pray this song will make a tiny spell; a lesson less on lost forlorn and more intent on finding cell

______________________________________________________________________

pocket full of humbug, some'll argue/ some shrug but damnit my whole planet's stupid like it's on the Dumb drug will there be a U.S. war? (I mean ANOTHER on our list) maybe something civil: neo-drivel vs. power fist... maybe accidental, mental trump insulting china's boss I fear these pale tears will steer us straight into a giant loss

so many people on the earth are searching for a safe life the rich'll keep their swords but lord they'll take away our steak knife Nothing free for you and me our banking fees are never waved; an act by black or poor is "crime" for white or rich it's "misbehaved" They're pouring us an ethanol and calling it an eggnog - time to run away and trade these reindeer for a sled-dog; the season of the commie christ whose message hasn't landed yet: money only isn't evil if the people's needs are met

______________________________________________________________

no thanks on the news, yo crank up the tunes, don't bank on the crankiness taking a snooze unless I get dressed from neckless to shoes and charge the horizon more wise than confused __________________________________________________________

hear the too late beep, missing two days sleep, and the road to a dream is a two way street; so the mood stays bleak though I do make sweet this coffee with cream and the brew ain't weak

____________________________________________________________________

been a While since I styled out the verbs and tenses, went around the Gates and straight hopped the fences; penUltimately gotta be a sultan of self: master mind, rule body, find my worth-and-my-wealth; if i'm quiet too long I'll have sloth not stealth so I try to move along and get my words off the shelf.

my projects: objects I invent/books writ - that shit won't pay the rent; throw fits, I have, it don't prevent: what's real from feeling devil-sent.

so I must be clever, do each: sum total; whatever needs eating this dead-beat goat'll; ask what is the art in a pace grown sickly? cut to the part where the chase goes quickly

Now hook or crook I must prepare, to tell each truth/take every dare stand hand on hips, and one in air, you can kiss my lips, or my derrière

______________________________________________________________________

got me a hit list, swear i'ma get this done til the sun goes under the business; witness, this is crazy and witless, lazy lately: maybe the wiz kid just hid restless - put to the test his quiz is bested get to the rest it's now or not again, get that got and then kill it til the whole damn lot is a slaughter pen, sweat til the wet drip drops gettin' hotter than the metal that your kettle corn kernel keeps poppin' in; hoppin' and hippin' and readin' what's written i gotta be gettin' to the List no skippin'! slippin like fall, new leaves i'm flippin - givin' my all just to keep on grippin'; breakin' what doesn't bend wrong way through, as i make it to the end of the long To Do

_____________________________________________________________________

i post at the prompt, chew big what i've chomped; grew kid to a ghost haunting most of this pomp; listless within this to do list i'm swamped - spirit in fits, corpse slow to go romp

_____________________________________________________________________

incautious swatches of saying; watch as he washes the playing: switching the swerving and swaying into some terms of conveying wishes conditions occurred in which this envisioned un-blurred digit could get itself heard and flip politicians the bird

______________________________________________________________________

in the trace of the face off you tasted last, is the scent of the sense made fading fast, so your dreams leak sieve-like hiking past a scared nightmare crew of an all-you cast

______________________________________________________________________

got me a pallet of shall get around to, climb out of shallow kie, it's not about you; just look at the play and see where the props ain't, take out a brush but don't rush it you'll drop paint; stop sayin' you're praying for planet like damn saint but get out and do, do it, do, 'til you feel faint; yes do it, true get into some writing, what you must chew is how much off you're biting, i dust off the lightning and plug it right in, if i play hard enough then my bluff just might win, all this tin in my pocket while walking about til the hat-caving camptown will clean me all out- my ten other projects, pretend money fudge it, i'll sell all my objects and end up with budget; i'd love it if some of my ideas ran, but i'll finish the one and be one happy man

_______________________________________________________________________

each piece is news, new peace in reach; tho a few of you choose nude tweets of Preach- but the rest got best bits fittin' here, what tests my pets must sit and hear: forget that past rush last two years going mash-gas fast 'til we're clashing gears, it's clear no room for fear to be, but the info flash is a blast to me- from the crashing sea to the land locked loam, we're lashed to the new word womb to tomb; and it's all fantastic like plastic foam that'll patch like magic a tragic home, or a tech part heart in 3-d print that'll let docs talk too intelligent; it's so elegant, that an elephant could do operations like he hella went: to harvard med my head is full but the school yard's sharp like a shaving tool; i'm a raving fool, but i drink it in, article particles 'til i sink and spin, win wonder i'm under delusions grand- will i sunder illusions and understand? or is it too much fuss will i cuss and worry, will i do what's just 'mid the dust and fury all i know is i go with the flow i find, tryna rein in my brain while i fill my mind

_______________________________________________________________________

so often was the A.M. spent prayin' for mayhem, like seeing riots firing inspired me to 'amen'; i'd hate when the job sucked, my robbed luck, i'd get stuck- attempts at free society my hopes and dreams were all fucked; but lately (don't hate me) the game is less crazy- i bust twice as lustrous if bosses don't make me; So new to the bragging, i catch up from lagging and write down solutions more lucid less nagging

_______________________________________________________________________

no sleep awake i sit and wait until the mill will dim/abate some whim shall take my fancy fate is to be sleeping dreaming state my eyes won't close i'll type i 'spose i'll write a night time rhyming prose those words i've heard but rearranged their meaning seeming weird and strange i've changed but how i could not say i only know no other way yet days gone by then who was i my mind was mine but what i tried to bind untied it flies! it runs! i rue what once i 'knew'; so dumb- untruth undo what time has done i can't so chant of what's to come oh spin oh sing oh show such things oh paint me what the future brings if won't be still then say your fill i pray my brain abstain from frills and spill the beans and give me scenes of things that help divine the means which plan to make which paths to take? i sit and wait no sleep awake

______________________________________________________________________

rework this

i want things to be different, starting with me; like to find me a new mind, with new eyes to see; like to start a new life, with new ways to be; can't be hard to do right, or this dude might flee- but i like the older version, no aversion to he: the kid who up and did lots, and got up from knees; who figured bigger sub-plots, and thought it was neat; who questioned syncopation, by stepping off beat; so i'd like to start a nation, a tribe or a team; one with no reservations just, a vibe and some steam; a group think to shout out 'thou shalt know peace' and to try it they're provided with some elbow grease; what i mean is, i think it's, so nice to be me; and the thing is the scene seems a singularity; but my brain goes, down more roads, than the branches of trees; and with more crew, i might do, more glancing with ease; so for multiples of loyal, one/two/three: i might try it royal, and become true We

___________________________________________________________________

[megamangx]

Megaman christmas beat down

megaman was in doctor light house playing switch with roll protoman and megamangx “sonic is best chartactyer i can beat you easy” megaman said as he spindished around the level and protoman got annoyed and went for a drink

on the tv there was some arcologists who dug up a frozen sleeping chamber and a bit man smashed out of it and killed the arcologists “I AM BORIS JOHNSTON YOUR NEW ETERNAL PRIME MINISTER AND RULER OF THE WORLD NOW I WILL BAN CHRISTMAS PRESENTS SO ONLY RICH PEOPPLE CAN GETTING THEM NOW AND FUN FOR PEOPLE IS ANOT NOT ALLOWED NOW” he said and killed the police and took over the govment building

“what the hell?” megman sad

dotor light typed computer to find records “he was an evil tory man who runned uk in the olden days and m ade people slaves who had to die in food banks and they brainwished people to vote them forever so nobody could get them out of govnment” said light

megaman was angry and gotted his mega buster “not today we live in a better future now and i wil;l not let that blowbag take back over” he shed and teleportaled into battle

people tryed to fight but boris had revived mark zuckerberg as a robot master called networkman “make them bow to me” boris ordered

“of course i am the tech god and can do what i want nothing can stop me and the sheep will bend” network man said and used a fake news beam to beam lies into peoples brains

“i can’t fight it” said a man as his face turned red like gammon food and his hair was blad and he turned ugly and then HE WAS A BOOMER “i love boris i love boris and the earth is a cube because facebook told me so and the moon and is made of pizza i read it on the internet im have the truth knowledge the mainstem media cant infulance me haha” said the boomer and everyone was turned into boomers by the fake news attack

“this is bad” megaman said

protoman came to he;p but the boomers attacked “we can’t fight them they are hiumans and even if brainwished we have to find another way”

then boris sumoned bbc and laurna kassenburg “do not fighting boris it is extreme you must be good centrist like us and let him become dictator forever it is moderate thing you must doing!!!” she said

protoman facepalm harded “you are just a useful fool for evil governments and use fake nautral logic to trick people into supporting right wings you are just a right wing yourself but coward to say you are one” protoman pointed and she was angry and takened an uzi machinepistol out “die you fucking prick” l aura kassburg said but roll roundhouse kicked her “leave brothers alone”

boris turned on a machine as he drained the money from every family turning them even poorer and fed the money to rich people who got richer “only rich people have human rights now you will all go back to workhouses where you belong and i will CREATE THE FINAL BREXIT TO BRING THE VICTORIAN TIME BACK HAHAHASGHA” laughed boris as buildings rotted and people where made homeless

“i don’t like this” said a local man but then network man shot him with the news beam “i like this now its my own fault if i vote boris forever i can be rich one day the facebook told me so so it must be truth” said the brainwished man.

boris drained so much money he got fat and blaoted on all the money until he was so rich he was the only rich person “i need more cash” said boris

“THIS ENDS NOW!” megaman gx point and fighted but boris sent out rupert murdoch with the sun newspaper and the daily mail head to fight him but megaman gx destroy them in one hit “your lies do not work on me boris johnston i have the heart and soul of justice in me” megaman gx swore

but then a fleet of death ships rised out of the ground “AT LAST THE FINAL BREXIT IS READY” said borius as the ships started attacking citys with big laser bombs

the boomers where straving to death and had all catched the whooping cough “this is good for us brexit is all that matters i dont care if i die lets get brexit done” said the head boomer who died of the cold

boris felt like a tory god as he was mad with money and power and steven banon was there to “network man make the young serve us to we need a new army of teenager boomers” bannon said

network man then used his news beam to beam nazism into there brains “hitler was a good man and we need to kill all the not white people that way we will not die of being poor and not having cough medicines” said the young hip new age nazis

“soon i will privateize the sun and air and everything will be better that way” boris said but then things got bad

“no will be the new god i have social medica tech and can do everything and no one can stop me and people will do what my website tells them to die I AM BETTER THAN JESUS NOW” said network man as he spread fake news around the planet

“if we all kill ourselfs and let mankind die then we can bring the jobs back” said the boomers as the news beams melted there brains more

“I CAN DO ANYTHING I CAN DO ANYTHING” netowkr man bouncing around like mad

network man shot more powerful beams into young people “misery and pain is good for all of you hahahahahaha” said network man

“i dont care about health food having a future or being alive i just want to trigger people hahaha” said the nazis

darkness rised so much that MEGA HITLER ROSE FROMT HE CRACKED EARTH AND THINGS GOTTED BAD “i will merge with mega hitler now” said network man as he turned into the mega hitler core and looked like a mix of galatius and hitler

“i am so powerful and control information and money that i can make people do what i want just by thinking it this is power sxo good i do not be needing army now” laughed mega hitler

megaman fired buster shots but then megamangx got the hchaos emeralds “i’ve had it with this lOSER HE TALKS AND WANTS TO BREK SPRITS BUT THAT IS ALL HE IS JUST A MAN NOT A GOOD THEY ARE ALL JUST A MAN” said megamangx as golden wind played on his i pod and he went INTO CHAOS GOLDEN EMERALD FORM

“you are a man not a god”

mEGA HITLER WAS TERRORFYED OF THE POWERFUL TRIO OF MEGA SIBLINGS “take this EMERALD SHOT FINAL MUDA 1000000 BILLION PAGES” megaman gx shouted

then he punched mega hitler 100000000000000000000000000000 times “MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA”

then the armor cracked as mega hitler blew up and died forever as network man was exposed “no have mercy i will let you buy ads on facebook you can tell any lies you want” network man said

it just made megamangx even more angry “YOU ARE SLEEZE MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA”

network mans robot master parts hwre blown away as he turned back into the skinny mark zucerberg “owwwwwwwww” zuck cry

“MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA”

megaman gx was so angry at what the scumbag had did with his rich friends and his planet ego that he gained the power of GOLDEN EMERLAD REQIUM “MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA”

the muda where so hard that it broke time meaning mark zuckerberg could feel a singl muda 100 times and then “FINAL MUDA MUD AMUD AMUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA” megaman gx screamed opunching him so hard he broke time and blasted into the sun but due to marks broken time he fell into the sun over and over forever and would always feel the sun burning him forever as he would forever be punched into the sun

everyone was cured of the bad information andevil media bioth mainstream and stupiud online crap “i did i turn into a boomer what come over me i need to be a better person” said a middle aged man abd everyone went back to there lifes and rebuilded the city again and boris johnston and all his rich friends went to jail “you too eh?” sighed doctor wily who shared a cell with him.

megaman megaman gx protoman and roll all went to doctor lights for a big christmas party and ate good food and played the switch and had all there friends over and it was a good time “nothing is hopeless if we hold justice hard and keep the light alive” megaman gx said

“AND MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL THE FANS”

[hecohansen31]

Not Of Age: (Duncan Shepherd+Reader)

A/N: Hello there, lovelies!

How was everything?

I am a bit stressed out for various thing, but also… you know what would help a lot? FEEDBACK (please if you have a minute of your time spare it to either heart this fic, comment on it, or reblog it, only if you liked it, obviously) (+you are always welcome to tell me what went wrong, what went right, in either my messages or in my asks, I am always happy to get one so…).

Also this is all inspired to something that happened to me (no I sadly don’t know any Duncan Shepherds in real life), since I get a lot mistaked for younger than I actually am (and I know it might sound strange but it is something I am insecure about, because people don’t take you seriously).

(Plus: one of my photos of the collage is actually mine, because I am wearing the dress, I described in the fic, so you can see it better+I don’t know I love the way that dress is one me…so) (Also i censored my face, because I was without make-up+I was wearing a very obnoxious flower crown).

Plus, before this gets controversial, Duncan in this fic is not interested into Reader because she is younger and might not seem of age, but he is more attracted to her “potrayal of youth”.

As always… I talk too much so I shall leave you to appreciating the fanfiction (let me know if you want a sequel because I mgiht be working on something right now!).

SUMMARY: You don’t show your age, and this got you in so much troubles, such as the one you got into after an unexpected visit on a Saturday’s morning, in an extra meeting with Duncan Shepherd

WORDS: 2,3 K.

WARNINGS: Just Duncan being flirty, and mostly kissing (no smut), also Older! Man in a relationship with a younger girl!

She had always been the girl, who looked much younger than her true age .

Both for her terrible childish manners (not only she still had the that naivety which was only seen in children, but also a brattish character that sometimes got her in trouble, mostly in relationships) both for the fact that her appearance was juvenile and much more belonging to a teen than an actually woman, who was 25 years old, which prompted many awkward and weird situations.

Such as the typical bar patron who asked her ID after she ordered alcohol, alongside a few of her partners on internet picking her up just because she looked much younger or mumbling something as “are you legal?”, when they saw her.

And although many people thought that it was an advantage, it was something she personally found annoying, mostly when people reminded her of it as it meant she was somehow shallow and not worthy of being taken seriously.

Many of her friends had also by now a kid on the way and were already married (although some settled for the first one that came through the window and it showed), so being the only single friend, not only sucked, but meant that apparently she was less trust worthy than a pregnant woman, alongside the fact that she didn’t seem to belong at all whenever a wedding was mentioned or a baby shower, and she just stared at the wall till they all giggled together, joining her friends there.

That day she seemed young not only because she wasn’t wearing her usual heavy make-up, which helped a lot with making her feel not only more confident but also a few years older, but she was dressed in a pretty sundress she had wanted to wear to the typical brunch her friends had on the first day of summer, setting themselves in a park in order to talk a bit.

The sundress was a perfect solution for the warm weather which coated her body in the form of sweat; but also she honestly loved the way the dress fit on her body, giving her a pretty hourglass figure, with its 50’s style..

She had bought the dress something like ten years ago, it had been her first dress ever, and although it was a bit ruined by the excessive washing she still felt comforted by wearing it and it still looked pretty amazing: its organza skirt bore a flowery pattern, her favorite!

She hadn’t worn make-up, stopped by the terrible hotness of the day, choosing to hide herself from the eyes of her friends and the sun with sunglasses and a straw hat, brought back from a very old journey, but which gave her a “Heiress on Vacation” kind of look.

The last touch of the look would have been sandals, but she had to go for sneaker since her boss called her at work for an emergency reunion, ruining her entire day of the brunch.

She hadn’t had enough time to change into something more “work appropriate” so she had just to go with her sundress and sneakers, hoping nobody would notice the terrible match.

The hat had been gently discarded to the secretary, meanwhile she “helloed” her and her boss made her a sign to move onto her office quickly, where she plumped down on her turning chair and checked into a mirror the state of her hair, after she had walked (more like ran) to work, sweating like a pig, (to hide it, she applied a generous amount of the extra-deodorant she had in her office for emergency such as this one).

She knew nothing about what she was supposed to be expecting.

Her boss had just mumbled something about ��a very important client cancelling a meeting and asking for another on Saturday morning” when she wasn’t supposed to be working, but her boss had asked for a favor, alongside a promise of an extra on her paycheck to take the job.

“It will only last an hour maximum, I just need you to make him sign the documents and nobody is answering me…” because the offices were supposed to be closed on Saturday, and knowing this no clients were allowed in the building on Saturday…. alongside the fact that many people at 8 A.M. of Saturday were still sleeping with their phones off, meanwhile she had had to wake up, since not only she had had to get ready but the park for the brunch was two hours away from her.

“Ok… I will take it, but please… sign it as extra-work” she had mumbled, before sending her friends a message on how she would be sadly missing at least the first part of the brunch and to leave her something to eat, since she would come an hour later than she had programmed.

And maybe even more…

Because after what seemed like half an hour after the appointment had been set, she stilll saw nobody and she had even tried to ask the secretary (also extraordinarily there) if she had known something about the “mysterious man”, just to get a shake of head and a whisper on how much she hated that job (on which she agreed).

She was halfway through painting her nails, the one she had accidentally scratched on her way to the job, when she heard a knock on her door, surprising her enough that she almost painted her dress of the same teal color of her nail polish.

She mumbled a “please enter”, meanwhile she meticulously hid the nail polish’s bottle and breathed hot air on her nails to get them to dry quicker, not wanting to leave signs on the poor man’s hand.

And meanwhile she did all this, a man walked in her office, a very handsome and known man, whom she knew because of all the “Vanity Fair” ’s covers her boss had in her office, practically worshipping the self-made man, Duncan Shepherd had become after his exit from jail.

And not only did he look better in reality than on magazine cover, but he looked at her with two of the prettiest eyes she had even seen, preying on her as if she was some kind of water in a sandy desert.

She felt immediately the bush rising to her face, regretting not having taken a jacket with her, leaving her cleavage exposed since the dress had a deep “v” neck, which prompted a lot of skin to be shown and although it was pretty breathy for the summer, it didn’t mean that it was appropriate for the workplace.

Although to be stared like that by such a powerful man…

It wasn’t the “I want to make you feel like a piece of meat” stare so many frat boys gave her, but it was the “I will have you on your desk in five minutes, if you are interested”.

-Ehm… I think I have the wrong office, I was looking for Mrs (L/N)- he mumbled, thinking her to be the wrong person, but she just mumbled a shy “you are in the right place”.

-… I am Mrs (L/N), but you may call me (Y/N)- you knew it was highly unprofessional to share your name with a client, mostly somebody who was here just to sign but you tried to make it all seem a bit more relaxed, more for yourself than for him, who would look at ease even in a Nordic climate -I am sorry for my inappropriate state, this meeting was scheduled at last minute and I was on my way to a friendly brunch-.

-I am extremely sorry for the meeting at this hour and day, but I had a problem with the scheduled appointment, and I wouldn’t be back in America till a month… so…-.

-Don’t worry, Mr Shepherd, I am more than happy to make an exception for you- she didn’t mean to make it sound so flirty, mostly because she wasn’t used to try her luck with guys like him, not to talk about the fact that her childish naivety scared away boys, but this one, stayed, interested, staring at her.

-Well thank you very much, then- he mumbled, matching her flirty tone, meanwhile coming nearer, where she showed him the chair, raising up and showing a bit of her legs, which made him lower his gaze on them, and she faked not noticing although she raised a bit on her toes to show much more -… give me a pen and I will be out of your hair soon-.

He smiled brightly at her sudden goofy attempt to grab a pen, just to grasp simply air, making an awkward figure, to which he giggled, till she offered the pen, and moved the contract for their agency in his hands, meanwhile their hands bumped just a bit together, electricity shooting through her veins.

She even lowered herself a bit, the cleavage appearing more evident and he caught it with his eyes as they lowered upon the papers, meanwhile she simply dropped on her elbows and her ass shot up, which got her in a very explicit position.

He read the papers, or at least appeared to be reading those chewing the pen, before setting it down and smile at her as he caught her looking at him, nibbling her bottom lip.

-I didn’t think that you were Mrs (L/N) because you seem so much younger- he mumbled, taking time, clearly, meanwhile she settled swiftly back a bit, embarrassed by how freely she had acted with him, although he had given her clear indications he was into her and was trying his best to flirt her up.

But he was still a client till he walked outside the door.

-Oh, believe me but a lot of people think the same- she giggled, trying to breathe out her embarrassment.

-… it isn’t a bad thing- he mumbled, meanwhile looking at her and smiling at her flushed cheeks -… I wish I looked younger! People nowadays ask me if I need glasses to see-.

She laughed heartedly, meanwhile he looked at her through his lashes as if to say he was serious.

-You look amazing, Mr Shepherd- this got him to puff his chest even further almost as a proud bird, which got a genuine smile from her -… and I mean it is nice to know you can somehow age slower, but also… a lot of people tend not to take you seriously if you don’t look mature enough, plus, guys are not interested into younglings…-.

This got her a shocked look from him, which changed swiftly in an outraged look.

-… boys tend to have that kind of thoughts- he mumbled, shooting her a serious glance, that went through her entire body -…men don’t-.

And he was a man, probably ten years her senior, although she had heard he was much older than what he seemed with a pendant for a new girl on his arm each week, much younger than him, so she knew what was going on, although she was not his usual supermodel.

-Thank you, I will set my mind onto dating only men from now on- she mumbled, shyly, before tapping at the paper, to remind him what was going on, shooting him a knowing look; she couldn’t because of so many reasons, although she wanted.

-You are very welcome- he muttered, before setting a last glance on her body and swiftly signing the paper -Then is it done? -.

-It is- she replied, moving to accompany him to the door, as a way to let him even further know that she sadly couldn’t.

-Then we are not a client and a professional, right? – he asked.

And with her typical childish naivety, not fully understanding his motives she answered.

-… yes-.

And he swiftly closed the door, behind them, before pulling her against the door with a sudden roughness she found herself liking, and left her legs trembling, before diving on her lips, with his, with much more gentleness than the push against the door, a bit dipping her as they did in the movies.

He was far gentler than what he had promised her with the “door movement”, getting her wondering what would come next… a kiss or a slap…

But he was careful with her now, probably after the yelp of pain he got from having pushed her back against the hard wood, before pushing her towards another kind of “hard wood”, much more human.

And this got a moan of pleasure transferred from her mouth to his, opening herself to his tongue and a languid caress from it, before it moved back to trace, as if to know them by heart, her lips.

When he separated himself from her, much more due to the lack of air than because he wanted to, he still kept her against him.

Her sundress had risen up a bit, and now her thighs were even more exposed, meanwhile her cleavage was widened up by the rushed tries and friction of her dress against his crisp elegant shirt, rigorously back, whereas hers was beige, matching their respective personalities.

He moved his eyes from the ground to her face, just to cup it and keeping the stare till their lips were near each other and then he closed them, as she did, but nothing but dry air went through them and when she opened them he had disappeared, which left her to wonder whether or not something had happened, till she saw the signed paper and felt the little ticket hidden in the cleavage of her dress, with an address from an hotel in Italy written on it and a number on the other side.

She wondered about what it meant, why her and how he managed to slip it in her dress without knowing why…

But now apparently she had a way to find it all out.

[alitheamateur]

The Grind-Chapter 18

The next specific Wednesday session seemed to be no different than the last, other than the building progress we were making. Tia and I had slowly, and very carefully started sparring a couple of weeks earlier, and my skill was greatly improving according to her, and the rest of the team. I had even very unintentionally paid Tia back for the purple shiner she gave me during the early stages of my training, by locking a very happen stance successful arm bar, making her tap. I’m still not sure between the two of us who was more baffled at the turn of events. The instant growl of defeat from her chest quickly erased when she’d squeezed my head in her hands and smashed a hard pressed kiss to my forehead saying, she had “created a fucking monster.” 

That evening I was huddled alone in the quiet corner of the gym, left to tend to the speed bag so Tia could focus on her own training with Willow. She had booked a match with a very talked about newcomer here in town, so she needed to buckle down, and plant more of her focus on her own drills. It only made sense that I slide to the backburner, this was her career after all. I was still the desk jockey turned wannabe martial artist, after all.

 The glass, arched ceilings at the temple perfectly displayed the peach sky summer sunsets at night when I came in to work out after leaving the office, and tonight was exceptionally spellbinding. The mellow, fading clouds painted a haze amongst the hot pinks of the setting sun, tearing my focus from the current task at hand. I knelt to the floor grasping the already sweat damped towel, to dry the trickling perspiration from my weary eyes, when a distinctly gruff accent paralyzed my further movements.

 “Liv?....” the man hesitated meekly. There could’ve been 3,000 people in one room calling my name out in harmony, and that particular voice would’ve rang out to me like church bells, silencing all the rest.

 I dropped the ratty cloth from my white knuckles, my breaths hitched terrified as I rolled on my heels to face the approaching footsteps. That face, now more matured in all the best ways. Had it been that long? The very noticeable changes suited him in tremendous manner, paired with his still very exceptional fighters physique. Thick gray track shorts situated low on his hips, topped with a “Mac’s Gym” t-shirt now turned tank top courtesy of his kitchen scissors. A frayed duffle slung easily over his shoulder, and a weathered Pirates hat laid rear facing on his head. I noticed the longer hair that now winged out beneath the confines of that ball cap, and a beard had sprouted around his pretty, pink lips.

There were a few new inky additions that I couldn’t make out from the distance, but his skin was now slightly more drawn on than before. He was Webster’s pictorial definition of female arousal. I’m not sure how many seconds, or maybe even minutes passed before I was able to piece together a choppy response, but before I could speak, he did again.

“Wha-what are you doing here?”

“I uh, I’m just here with a friend. She’s in the ring there, the little brunette one.” I gestured to Tia across the room, who was too preoccupied to notice who had joined us in the room. “She’s just, um, getting me back into shape a little.” I wasn’t quite ready to explain fully to him what I was truthfully doing there. I wasn’t even convinced yet I wanted to even speak period.

 I tensely angled my head to the floor to escape his festering gazes, when I caught a horrified glimpse of the shirt over my torso. It was his. The shabby, heather gray Pitt t-shirt of his that I had never given back, now cut to graze just above my exposed, taut bellybutton. I screwed my eyes shut in ruthless mortification, knowing there was no way the cloth hadn’t stuck out to him like a very familiar sore thumb.

Of all days to choose this shirt, Liv. OF ALL DAYS.

 He began to saunter very gently closer to me, proceeding with necessary caution, his bottom lip bitten between his teeth, now hidden behind the lengthy whiskers.

“Whatever she’s got you doing, it uh, it suits you.“ He pointed out with what he had already said with his gazes.

 A ravish of red heated my cheeks. “Wait. What are you doing here?” I attempted to dodge his compliment, but was honestly confused at why the man was here, at the Temple. Mac’s was his place, why had he entered mine?

“There’s a long story behind that, actually. But Mac, he uh, he lost the gym last week. Like officially. They closed the doors, bank ceased it.” He shook his head in saddened disgust. Poor Mac. That was his sacred ground, the sweat and blood of his livelihood. “I’m tryin’ out a couple other spots close by in the city. The weight bench, and half shredded bag in my apartment ain’t gonna cut it forever.”  I noticed my back was now grazing the cool wall behind me, apparently his presence had sent my mindlessly cowering away from his heated form.

 Before I could extend my apologies for the news he’d given about Mac’s, I heard Tia’s not so satisfied interruption break the silence of the room.

 “Hey!” she jogged closer, very much aware of who I was now conversing with, “you okay, Liv?”

Although Colt wouldn’t imagine laying his hands in anger at a female to begin with, he still should’ve very much intimidated my petite, very ruthlessly protective friend. Tia however, stabbed through him with her blue daggers, not letting up.

“What the hell do you want, Ritter? Why are you here?” I had to diffuse her before the already escalating situation got completely out of hand.

“It’s fine, Tia. We’re fine. I’M fine. Colton is just here to… try the place out. His trainer recently had to sell his place, so he’s out of a spot to work out right now,” I said patting her arm.

 The two had never met, regardless of how seemingly familiar she was of Colt just from the countless stories she’d heard from me over the course of our friendship, so I figured I maybe best to formally introduce them.

“Colton, this is Tia. The friend I was telling you had me down here in the first place,” he extended a hand in a reserved extension to offer a hand shake. I could see from his tightened jaw he was far from pleased with the audacious way she had spoken at him, his temper wanting to burst and show his displeasure. However deep down, I think he  knew he’d probably indeed deserved it, assuming all the things that I had told my friend about how he’d treated me.

Tia on the other hand, the sassy girl she was, wasn’t even considering the fake smiles and forced “nice to meet you’s”.

 “And T, this is Colton. Which clearly, you already knew.” She gawked at his still waiting hand, denying it, instead lifting to cross her arms across her heavily breathing chest.

 “Want me to get rid of him, LC? I can have Cal lead him very abruptly to the door,” she snarled like an insulted animal.

 Colton shifted his puppy, questioning eyes to me, searching for an answer. The stormy irises were spinning through the wheel of every emotion. Sadness, regret, admiration, confusion, arousal, anger. And love. His eyes kept changing back to love. It seemed to be the dominating feeling calling to him as he continued to gaze.

 “No worries, Tia. He was just about to start his own work out. Right, Colton? I was just taking a little break, okay?” I explained, trying to hint to the man that I had reached my conversational limit with him for the day, and unless he wanted Tia to jump in an assault of violent fists, he should excuse himself for now. “You better get back to Willow there before she makes you pay.”

As badly as she hated it, she galloped back to the ring, pounding her gloved fists together after reinserting her mouth guard, still making sure Colt knew she had her eye on him, no matter what. My head was thumping, the overexertion of passion beating my brain to mush, leaving a growing veil of heaviness hanging over my head as I looked at him. My left hand longing to do nothing more than reach for his oversized hand, and squeeze it, reacquainting the feel of his sweltering skin to my own. But, my right hand. My right hand wanted to unleash every ounce of newly acquired physical strength on his face. Beat the handsome flesh from his bones. Attack him with the pain he caused me. I let my self-control avail and decided against either action at the moment.

“I better get back to my work out before she decides to come back,” a hesitated smile turned up. “But I guess I uh, I might see you around then?” He tapped his toes, and pursed his lips at the dismissal, but obliged, nonetheless.

“Yeah, ya’ just might, Livvy. You just might.”

  The next night was a break from the physical exertion for me. I had to fulfil my journalistic duties for The Pilot at a local fight in the city, a night away from the mats, and bags, and gloves, and sit-ups seemed long overdue. My relentless aching muscles thought so, anyway. It as a gorgeous evening to be out and about, it had been a calm, yet progressive day at the office, and I was eager to observe the fight now as an educated audience member. Before, the interest in fighting had been merely for entertainment sake, and of course a certain handsome competitor. But now, however substandard, and undeveloped, I had the eye of a fighter. The past months at Temple Fitness had opened my tunnel vision to an entirely new perspective. I found myself diving into the internet, researching basic takedown moves, and breaking down the techniques of female fighters all over the MMA circuit all for non-work related intent. I even shamefully pondered on a list of potential ring nicknames to suit me…

Tia declining my invite to tag along, left me attending stag as usual, as she needed the extra hours of training for her latest happenings.  I marched through the threshold of the main entrance, searching all directions for the small arena floor, the location being one I hadn’t yet visited. The echoing click of my heeled feet drew the attention of an event staff member who observantly took notice of my media tag, kindly ushered me in the correct direction, sending me on my way with a compliment on my nude, cross strapped stilettos. I had succumbed to the desire of exposing my bold, cobalt blue skirt and matching blazer to the world. The Pittsburgh air had been abnormally humid that week, and my skin had nearly clammed upon seconds of stepping outside the apartment, so I thought a risky, electric shade of blue was acceptable to suit the bold temperatures. The hem tickled a little higher on the thigh than I preferred, but I wanted to display the quite obvious cut of muscle down my lower extremities. A girl deserves to parade herself around on occasion, and tonight was my appointed hour. I had worked my ass of for these legs. Matter of fact, I worked my ass off for this ass, too.

I moseyed through the span of filling seats, responding to some unattended text messages from the drive over, and counted down the rows till I reached the third. I crumpled the foil of a gum wrapper reaching into my crossbody for my credit card, so I could find the closest vending machine for some water before the excitement ensued. My eyes searched downward to the bag, when a  firm, abnormally large hand clasped over my blue cloth covered shoulder.

“Well, damn. Two nights in a row, huh?”

That east coast lilt that I seemed to even hear in my dreams. My head dropped backwards in a stupid, heavy motion to face the known culprit.

NO! NO! That leather jacket. He just HAS TO BE WEARING THAT LEATHER JACKET.

He crouched beside my seat in the open aisle to lean in closer, the volume of the background music flooding the room, and his scent drifted into my area. A concoction of motorcycle exhaust fumes, woodsy hints of lingering shower gel, and a slight whiff of male perspiration resulting from the scorching night air. My suspicions of a grown out hairstyle confirmed now with the absence of a hat, and the tamed shaggy locks scattered loosely in dispersed directions, no doubt due to the helmet he’d probably just strapped to the back of his bike.

“Luck must be in your favor, Ritter.” I chided through a cheeky smile. I fought tooth and nail to bury the feeling of warmth between my legs at the very sight of him. It was imperative he didn’t catch a glimpse of weakness in me.

“Whatever’s in my favor, I’m fuckin’ grateful for it right now.” His once lowered gaze searched upward to link up with my green eyes.

Purposefully disregarding his intended romantic comments, I readily changed the subject “What are you doin’ here?”

“You seem t’ be askin’ me that a lot in the last two days, Livvy,” he said referring to my questioning at the gym on the previous evening. “But, I’m here to scope these bastards out. Never know if I may have to dance with one of ‘em in the cage. Did you change your hair, by the way?”

I wrestled internally with offering him to take the empty seat to my right, but settled with the idea he wouldn’t be permitted without a media lanyard.

 And who’s the say he even wants to sit next to you, Elliott. Get over yourself.

The repetitive twisting of my nearly dead ends over my index finger a familiar nervous habit he’d learned, led him to reservedly smile quietly as he spoke.

 “I guess you’re here for work? You and that damn little suit of yours, kid…. You look, well,” he cleared his throat,” you look amazing. I’ll just leave it at that before I get myself into too much trouble.”

He sure wasn’t trying to mask where his mind was wondering. However flattering, his suggestive remarks may have felt on one hand, I couldn’t help but grow frustratingly perturbed by his blatantly sexual tones with me.

Back the hell off, Colton. I’m not yours to flatter anymore!

 “Damn you, Colton! That’s enough, alright. God,” the radiant, cheery blue shade of my clothing likely clashed alongside my angry, gnashing teeth and wrinkled nose as I shut down his advances. “You can be on your way now, the fight is about to start.”

Colton parted his lips, hesitating to form a sentence of objection, but only muffled groans, and choppy letters were audible. I focused my attention now towards the cell in my lap, I didn’t bother seeing him off. I knew he would walk away, not wanting to upset me any farther, and the mean lines across my forehead reiterated that I wasn’t playing his game. Once the thumping, heavy steps of his work boots become more and more faint, I searched under hooded eyes. Of course. His seat wasn’t more than 50 yards across the way from me, giving him a clear shot to ogle me for the possible 5 round fight, an judging by his settled eyes on me, that’s exactly what he intended to do.

  The fighters had been so obviously mismatched. It barely reached the second round before the chosen favorite attained victory by a TKO. I combed through my falling curls and scooped up my bag, standing to weave through the exiting crowd. Next on the usual checklist: get the post-fight statement from the two competitors, and be on my way. The cheery, easy-going sense I felt upon arrival had pungently soured with aggravation. My steps seemed to be doubly echoing throughout the arena. Just as I convinced myself the roaring chatter of all the people was only playing tricks on my ears, I felt a grasping hand pull at my fingers, “Liv, hey.“ He spoke sounding winded, probably in the pursuit of locating me amongst the mass. I shook his squeezing clutches off sternly, yanking my arm free from my ex. “Liv, c’mon.. hey, hey, hey. Just gimme a second, ok? Please. Just one second,” his begging yielded a faint ounce of pity from me, so I paused my escape from him.

With arms tucked snuggly across my chest just over the palpitating heartbeats, I made sure to give him the clear impression that I was well over the line of absolutely fed up with him for the evening. My face may have read blank and cold to anyone else’s assumptions, but Colt read the emotion almost professionally. He knew his “second” was snappishly ticking away.

“Look, I’m sorry. I really am, okay? All those shitty, snide comments I was makin’, I didn’t mean to come off so damn, well, I didn’t mean to sound like such a fuckin’ douchebag, Liv.”

 You gotta do better than that, my friend, I thought to myself. “I don’t know how to break the ice here, Livvy.”

I sensed my gritting jaw relax as the tension melted away, not related to the rare elevated humidity for the city. He never was a man of eloquent speaking, or reading the ways to ease an edgy situation. He could definitely create the conflict, but solving it wasn’t his forte.

“Well, just a word of advice, Colton, staring straight into my chest and commenting about my legs sure isn’t the way to break the ice, buddy,” I advised him sneeringly.

He stared downwardly at his swaying feet in shame, openly welcoming my grave warnings. “I know, honestly. I fuckin’ know. I don’t know what I was thinkin’. But… maybe we, we could grab a drink and just talk a little? When you’re done at the post conference, I mean.” He untucked the sweaty hands from his tight jean pockets to lift his watch into view. “If it’s too late, I get it. I’m sure you have work tomorrow.”

The moment of truth. The decision far from one I took lightly, however I didn’t want to overthink too much. I didn’t want to beat it to death with  unceasing reservation and fear. It could be dangerous to my very fragile mental state. Well, fragile when it came to him, to be fair. Yet, it could also be my very agonizingly long overdue opportunity to spill out what shit storm he’d rained over my life. Now or never, you coward. “Fine, Colton. Yeah, I guess we can have a drink or somethin’. Just uh, head across the street to the left when you walk out the main entrance. I think I saw a place when I was coming in earlier. I should be there in a half hour or so.” I was determined to call the shots now, knowing he wouldn’t protest.

“You sure you don’t want me to wait up for ya’? It’s late, Liv. Prolly ain’t a good idea for you to be out walkin’ by yourself. Especially with the slobs from this crowd hangin’ out,” the chivalrous man spoke up.

“I’ll be fine. I’ve been walking alone in the city at night for the last year and a half now, Colton. I can handle it.” I retorted, reminding him purposely that he’d left me to fin for myself when he’d walked away. And I was doing just fine. I didn’t think of giving him a moment to speak again before pushing a shoulder passed his in the thick crowd of fans in the hallway, disappearing to leave him bleeding from his wounded ego.   

tags: @torialeysha @eap1935 @miidailyinspiration