#signal bike: starter

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Cleantech has an enshittification problem

On July 14, I'm giving the closing keynote for the fifteenth HACKERS ON PLANET EARTH, in QUEENS, NY. Happy Bastille Day! On July 20, I'm appearing in CHICAGO at Exile in Bookville.

EVs won't save the planet. Ultimately, the material bill for billions of individual vehicles and the unavoidable geometry of more cars-more traffic-more roads-greater distances-more cars dictate that the future of our cities and planet requires public transit – lots of it.

But no matter how much public transit we install, there's always going to be some personal vehicles on the road, and not just bikes, ebikes and scooters. Between deliveries, accessibility, and stubbornly low-density regions, there's going to be a lot of cars, vans and trucks on the road for the foreseeable future, and these should be electric.

Beyond that irreducible minimum of personal vehicles, there's the fact that individuals can't install their own public transit system; in places that lack the political will or means to create working transit, EVs are a way for people to significantly reduce their personal emissions.

In policy circles, EV adoption is treated as a logistical and financial issue, so governments have focused on making EVs affordable and increasing the density of charging stations. As an EV owner, I can affirm that affordability and logistics were important concerns when we were shopping for a car.

But there's a third EV problem that is almost entirely off policy radar: enshittification.

An EV is a rolling computer in a fancy case with a squishy person inside of it. While this can sound scary, there are lots of cool implications for this. For example, your EV could download your local power company's tariff schedule and preferentially charge itself when the rates are lowest; they could also coordinate with the utility to reduce charging when loads are peaking. You can start them with your phone. Your repair technician can run extensive remote diagnostics on them and help you solve many problems from the road. New features can be delivered over the air.

That's just for starters, but there's so much more in the future. After all, the signal virtue of a digital computer is its flexibility. The only computer we know how to make is the Turing complete, universal, Von Neumann machine, which can run every valid program. If a feature is computationally tractable – from automated parallel parking to advanced collision prevention – it can run on a car.

The problem is that this digital flexibility presents a moral hazard to EV manufacturers. EVs are designed to make any kind of unauthorized, owner-selected modification into an IP rights violation ("IP" in this case is "any law that lets me control the conduct of my customers or competitors"):

https://locusmag.com/2020/09/cory-doctorow-ip/

EVs are also designed so that the manufacturer can unilaterally exert control over them or alter their operation. EVs – even more than conventional vehicles – are designed to be remotely killswitched in order to help manufacturers and dealers pressure people into paying their car notes on time:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/24/rent-to-pwn/#kitt-is-a-demon

Manufacturers can reach into your car and change how much of your battery you can access:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/28/edison-not-tesla/#demon-haunted-world

They can lock your car and have it send its location to a repo man, then greet him by blinking its lights, honking its horn, and pulling out of its parking space:

https://tiremeetsroad.com/2021/03/18/tesla-allegedly-remotely-unlocks-model-3-owners-car-uses-smart-summon-to-help-repo-agent/

And of course, they can detect when you've asked independent mechanic to service your car and then punish you by degrading its functionality:

https://www.repairerdrivennews.com/2024/06/26/two-of-eight-claims-in-tesla-anti-trust-lawsuit-will-move-forward/

This is "twiddling" – unilaterally and irreversibly altering the functionality of a product or service, secure in the knowledge that IP law will prevent anyone from twiddling back by restoring the gadget to a preferred configuration:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/19/twiddler/

The thing is, for an EV, twiddling is the best case scenario. As bad as it is for the company that made your EV to change how it works whenever they feel like picking your pocket, that's infinitely preferable to the manufacturer going bankrupt and bricking your car.

That's what just happened to owners of Fisker EVs, cars that cost $40-70k. Cars are long-term purchases. An EV should last 12-20 years, or even longer if you pay to swap the battery pack. Fisker was founded in 2016 and shipped its first Ocean SUV in 2023. The company is now bankrupt:

https://insideevs.com/news/723669/fisker-inc-bankruptcy-chapter-11-official/

Fisker called its vehicles "software-based cars" and they weren't kidding. Without continuous software updates and server access, those Fisker Ocean SUVs are turning into bricks. What's more, the company designed the car from the ground up to make any kind of independent service and support into a felony, by wrapping the whole thing in overlapping layers of IP. That means that no one can step in with a module that jailbreaks the Fisker and drops in an alternative firmware that will keep the fleet rolling.

This is the third EV risk – not just finance, not just charger infrastructure, but the possibility that any whizzy, cool new EV company will go bust and brick your $70k cleantech investment, irreversibly transforming your car into 5,500 lb worth of e-waste.

This confers a huge advantage onto the big automakers like VW, Kia, Ford, etc. Tesla gets a pass, too, because it achieved critical mass before people started to wise up to the risk of twiddling and bricking. If you're making a serious investment in a product you expect to use for 20 years, are you really gonna buy it from a two-year old startup with six months' capital in the bank?

The incumbency advantage here means that the big automakers won't have any reason to sink a lot of money into R&D, because they won't have to worry about hungry startups with cool new ideas eating their lunches. They can maintain the cozy cartel that has seen cars stagnate for decades, with the majority of "innovation" taking the form of shitty, extractive and ill-starred ideas like touchscreen controls and an accelerator pedal that you have to rent by the month:

https://www.theverge.com/2022/11/23/23474969/mercedes-car-subscription-faster-acceleration-feature-price

Put that way, it's clear that this isn't an EV problem, it's a cleantech problem. Cleantech has all the problems of EVs: it requires a large capital expenditure, it will be "smart," and it is expected to last for decades. That's rooftop solar, heat-pumps, smart thermostat sensor arrays, and home storage batteries.

And just as with EVs, policymakers have focused on infrastructure and affordability without paying any attention to the enshittification risks. Your rooftop solar will likely be controlled via a Solaredge box – a terrible technology that stops working if it can't reach the internet for a protracted period (that's right, your home solar stops working if the grid fails!).

I found this out the hard way during the covid lockdowns, when Solaredge terminated its 3G cellular contract and notified me that I would have to replace the modem in my system or it would stop working. This was at the height of the supply-chain crisis and there was a long waiting list for any replacement modems, with wifi cards (that used your home internet rather than a cellular connection) completely sold out for most of a year.

There are good reasons to connect rooftop solar arrays to the internet – it's not just so that Solaredge can enshittify my service. Solar arrays that coordinate with the grid can make it much easier and safer to manage a grid that was designed for centralized power production and is being retrofitted for distributed generation, one roof at a time.

But when the imperatives of extraction and efficiency go to war, extraction always wins. After all, the Solaredge system is already in place and solar installers are largely ignorant of, and indifferent to, the reasons that a homeowner might want to directly control and monitor their system via local controls that don't roundtrip through the cloud.

Somewhere in the hindbrain of any prospective solar purchaser is the experience with bricked and enshittified "smart" gadgets, and the knowledge that anything they buy from a cool startup with lots of great ideas for improving production, monitoring, and/or costs poses the risk of having your 20 year investment bricked after just a few years – and, thanks to the extractive imperative, no one will be able to step in and restore your ex-solar array to good working order.

I make the majority of my living from books, which means that my pay is very "lumpy" – I get large sums when I publish a book and very little in between. For many years, I've used these payments to make big purchases, rather than financing them over long periods where I can't predict my income. We've used my book payments to put in solar, then an induction stove, then a battery. We used one to buy out the lease on our EV. And just a month ago, we used the money from my upcoming Enshittification book to put in a heat pump (with enough left over to pay for a pair of long-overdue cataract surgeries, scheduled for the fall).

When we started shopping for heat pumps, it was clear that this was a very exciting sector. First of all, heat pumps are kind of magic, so efficient and effective it's almost surreal. But beyond the basic tech – which has been around since the late 1940s – there is a vast ferment of cool digital features coming from exciting and innovative startups.

By nature, I'm the kid of person who likes these digital features. I started out as a computer programmer, and while I haven't written production code since the previous millennium, I've been in and around the tech industry for my whole adult life. But when it came time to buy a heat-pump – an investment that I expected to last for 20 years or more – there was no way I was going to buy one of these cool new digitally enhanced pumps, no matter how much the reviewers loved them. Sure, they'd work well, but it's precisely because I'm so knowledgeable about high tech that I could see that they would fail very, very badly.

You may think EVs are bullshit, and they are – though there will always be room for some personal vehicles, and it's better for people in transit deserts to drive EVs than gas-guzzlers. You may think rooftop solar is a dead-end and be all-in on utility scale solar (I think we need both, especially given the grid-disrupting extreme climate events on our horizon). But there's still a wide range of cleantech – induction tops, heat pumps, smart thermostats – that are capital intensive, have a long duty cycle, and have good reasons to be digitized and networked.

Take home storage batteries: your utility can push its rate card to your battery every time they change their prices, and your battery can use that information to decide when to let your house tap into the grid, and when to switch over to powering your home with the solar you've stored up during the day. This is a very old and proven pattern in tech: the old Fidonet BBS network used a version of this, with each BBS timing its calls to other nodes to coincide with the cheapest long-distance rates, so that messages for distant systems could be passed on:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/FidoNet

Cleantech is a very dynamic sector, even if its triumphs are largely unheralded. There's a quiet revolution underway in generation, storage and transmission of renewable power, and a complimentary revolution in power-consumption in vehicles and homes:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/12/s-curve/#anything-that-cant-go-on-forever-eventually-stops

But cleantech is too important to leave to the incumbents, who are addicted to enshittification and planned obsolescence. These giant, financialized firms lack the discipline and culture to make products that have the features – and cost savings – to make them appealing to the very wide range of buyers who must transition as soon as possible, for the sake of the very planet.

It's not enough for our policymakers to focus on financing and infrastructure barriers to cleantech adoption. We also need a policy-level response to enshittification.

Ideally, every cleantech device would be designed so that it was impossible to enshittify – which would also make it impossible to brick:

Based on free software (best), or with source code escrowed with a trustee who must release the code if the company enters administration (distant second-best);

All patents in a royalty-free patent-pool (best); or in a trust that will release them into a royalty-free pool if the company enters administration (distant second-best);

No parts-pairing or other DRM permitted (best); or with parts-pairing utilities available to all parties on a reasonable and non-discriminatory basis (distant second-best);

All diagnostic and error codes in the public domain, with all codes in the clear within the device (best); or with decoding utilities available on demand to all comers on a reasonable and non-discriminatory basis (distant second-best).

There's an obvious business objection to this: it will reduce investment in innovative cleantech because investors will perceive these restrictions as limits on the expected profits of their portfolio companies. It's true: these measures are designed to prevent rent-extraction and other enshittificatory practices by cleantech companies, and to the extent that investors are counting on enshittification rents, this might prevent them from investing.

But that has to be balanced against the way that a general prohibition on enshittificatory practices will inspire consumer confidence in innovative and novel cleantech products, because buyers will know that their investments will be protected over the whole expected lifespan of the product, even if the startup goes bust (nearly every startup goes bust). These measures mean that a company with a cool product will have a much larger customer-base to sell to. Those additional sales more than offset the loss of expected revenue from cheating and screwing your customers by twiddling them to death.

There's also an obvious legal objection to this: creating these policies will require a huge amount of action from Congress and the executive branch, a whole whack of new rules and laws to make them happen, and each will attract court-challenges.

That's also true, though it shouldn't stop us from trying to get legal reforms. As a matter of public policy, it's terrible and fucked up that companies can enshittify the things we buy and leave us with no remedy.

However, we don't have to wait for legal reform to make this work. We can take a shortcut with procurement – the things governments buy with public money. The feds, the states and localities buy a lot of cleantech: for public facilities, for public housing, for public use. Prudent public policy dictates that governments should refuse to buy any tech unless it is designed to be enshittification-resistant.

This is an old and honorable tradition in policymaking. Lincoln insisted that the rifles he bought for the Union Army come with interoperable tooling and ammo, for obvious reasons. No one wants to be the Commander in Chief who shows up on the battlefield and says, "Sorry, boys, war's postponed, our sole supplier decided to stop making ammunition."

By creating a market for enshittification-proof cleantech, governments can ensure that the public always has the option of buying an EV that can't be bricked even if the maker goes bust, a heat-pump whose digital features can be replaced or maintained by a third party of your choosing, a solar controller that coordinates with the grid in ways that serve their owners – not the manufacturers' shareholders.

We're going to have to change a lot to survive the coming years. Sure, there's a lot of scary ways that things can go wrong, but there's plenty about our world that should change, and plenty of ways those changes could be for the better. It's not enough for policymakers to focus on ensuring that we can afford to buy whatever badly thought-through, extractive tech the biggest companies want to foist on us – we also need a focus on making cleantech fit for purpose, truly smart, reliable and resilient.

Support me this summer on the Clarion Write-A-Thon and help raise money for the Clarion Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers' Workshop!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/26/unplanned-obsolescence/#better-micetraps

Image: 臺灣古寫真上色 (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Raid_on_Kagi_City_1945.jpg

Grendelkhan (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Ground_mounted_solar_panels.gk.jpg

CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en

[dead-girl-tells-stories]

The people of Gotham both fear and revere The Signal. As they do the rest of the Batfam but for Signal it's a bit different.

For starters, he's the only daytime hero. The other Bats usually only come out at night when the city is quieter. And while it's far from asleep, they prioritize stopping the numerous crimes that occur in the shadows. Civilian interactions far and few. Most pictures of them online seemed more like cryptid sightings than heroes soaring through Gotham skies.

The Signal on the other hand was the people's Bat. They got to see him soar through the sky, or ride his bike in all his golden glory. He gave autographs, took photos, and joined them on their daily commutes. He was a regular at mom-and-pop shops, made sure the troubled kids made it to school, and checked in on the sick and elderly. And while he did work with them when necessary, he mostly liked to fuck with the police, like a true Gothamite would.

All in all, he was the sweet sunshine that Gotham needed. He was far more human than the others. Not that he was human, oh heck no! NONE of the bats were human! But it felt that way. Until you were reminded that he was INDEED a Bat.

The way he merged and appeared out of the shadows despite his bright yellow suit, and moved without a sound. He knew about people and things before they happened. And had an intelligence that was absolutely terrifying when thought about. And the way he took care of crimes?

The Signal is cold, borderline brutal, and efficient (with commentary that leaves you agape and a chill down your spine) when dealing with criminals. It was always jarring to witness the sudden change from Gotham's sunshine boy to stone-cold Bat, and back again. It almost gave you whiplash to realize that this was the vigilante that you were talking to about your puppies a few moments ago. And it really instilled the Fear™ that that bats were known for.

The other Bats were terrifying, shadowy demons that moved through the night. Stopping crime in the darkness. Gotham knew and appreciated this. But the Signal? He was the bright light at the end of the tunnel and the warmth of the brilliant sun. But he was also...

'Gotham's Darkest Angel'

[shomatoriashi]

10/22/24; 08:23pm

shouma toriashi x fem.reader

notes/warnings: reader and shouma are both 20 years old; there is alcohol consumption.

when shouma invited you over to his place, to say you were a mess of nerves would be an understatement.

you had began dating the ever so reserved and stoic shouma for 6 months now, and how you managed to capture his attention was still quite the mystery to you.

for starters, you both attended the same university and shared some classes together. each time you saw shouma, you would often sit beside him because of how… safe he made you feel. as you focused on jotting down your notes, the lingering scent of cigarette smoke that wafted off of his clothes was oddly comforting to you.

never once had you spoken a word to each other, yet one afternoon (after a particularly boring lecture) you heard a deep voice call out your name. looking back, your eyes went wide upon seeing the way shouma casually approached you. he asks if you’d like to grab a bite to eat with him, which you politely accepted his offer.

shouma ends up taking you to a nice sushi restaurant, where you ordered a side of your favorite rolls along with a filling bento boxed lunch. the entirety of the meal was spent in solace, simply enjoying how delicious the food was. by the end of it all, shouma simply stood up to take care of the bulk in its entirety, stopping you the moment you took your wallet out of your purse.

“i’ve got it, wait right here.”

warmth was felt settled on your cheeks, and you watch him with a bit of a dazed expression on your face. soon enough, shouma returns to you, never once leaving your side until you were safely back at your apartment.

deep down, you thought that would be the last of your interaction with him-

however, shouma ends up proving you wrong.

those offers to eat out with him were seen as dates in his eyes, but it was so difficult to discern because of how nonchalant he’s been the entire time. and the fact that he wasn’t so vocal about his feelings-

well, that made it even more difficult to read him.

in fact, you wanted so desperately to ensure that you weren’t getting mixed signals from him that you flat out asked him if he considered you as being his girlfriend one late evening.

you were both studying at your university’s library, with an unlit cigarette loosely hanging from shouma’s lips. he closes his textbook while returning the cigarette within its box, shoving them both aside when he stands up to be closer to you.

you were currently settled on the carpeted floor, with your notes and textbooks surrounding you. you look up at him, wondering just what he was thinking when he lets out a yawn before kneeling before you. adjusting his body, shouma manages to settle his head against your lap while allowing the entire length of his legs to spread out.

your hands were raised awkwardly in response before deciding to settle themselves into his silken locks of hair. a pleased hum was heard coming from him, with him opening one eye before telling you, “of course you’re my girlfriend. we’ve been dating this entire time, dummy.”

needless to say, you didn’t question the validity of your relationship with him after that night.

but now… it seemed like you were taking it almost to the next level. it was finally the weekend, and shouma had invited you to spend the night at his place. he told you not to worry about anything else, just to pack the essentials that would ease with your comfort at staying the night with him.

so with a single backpack filled with your essentials, you wait outside of your apartment for shouma to come and pick you up. your text to him was sent a mere five minutes ago, yet you were shocked to hear him coming through the hallways before reaching you.

a tiny smile graces his handsome features while he gives you a helmet, taking your hand while leading you toward his motorbike. your heart continues to pound with anticipation, with you getting on the back of his bike while donning the helmet.

as he drives out of the parking lot, shouma quickly gains speed, weaving through the streets of tokyo with an astonishing expertise. you cling to him, feeling your abdomen performing somersaults at what was to come.

in what felt like mere seconds, shouma parks his bike within a parking garage before taking your hand. he grabs a hold of your backpack and helmet, carrying them for you with little complaint as he lead you toward his apartment. with his front door settled a mere inches before you, you allow your boyfriend to unlock the door and open it, letting you step in first.

your heart wouldn’t stop its fast pace, with shouma turning on the lights to his apartment. he tells you to make yourself comfortable on the couch, and you try not to let your anxieties show. once shouma places your belongings in his bedroom, a sudden knock at the door nearly makes you jump out of your skin.

recognizing how jittery you were acting, shouma places a hand on your shoulder, “relax, i just ordered some fried chicken to be delivered here.”

feeling flustered, you give him a nod and shaky words of affirmation, silently berating yourself for acting so weird right now. blood was felt rushing through your ears when shouma accepts the delivery before returning back to you. he settles the order of freshly fried chicken in front of you, “go ahead and eat, i’ll grab some nice cold beers we can both enjoy.”

your ears perked up at the mention of beer. perhaps… having a bit of alcohol in your system will calm your nerves and help you relax around shouma?

once your boyfriend places the case of beer on the table, your hands automatically grab at one of the cans, popping it open before drinking all of it in one go. shouma’s eyebrow was seen lifted up in response, but he just takes a piece of fried chicken and starts eating it.

yet when you began opening a new can of beer-

and then another (downing three cans within the span of fifteen minutes)-

shouma became filled with concern for you.

“oi, that’s enough.” shouma takes the case of beer away from you, seeing your expression become even more dazed. you began to hiccup profusely, all while giggling. as shouma steadies you by wrapping his arms around your waist, your laughter became even louder and more uproarious.

“hehehe oh my god, shooooo….!” he lets out a grunt of your name, struggling to keep you steady while in his embrace.

“this isn’t like you… have you eaten anything yet?” shouma asks with his eyebrows becoming even more furrowed.

cue another snort, “nope. i was too nervous t’eat.”

shouma hums in response, managing to carry you inside of his bedroom before carefully laying you down against his mattress. once you were settled, he had every intention of getting you a tall glass of water-

only to be stopped when you wrapped your hands around his wrist, successfully causing him to land back in bed with you. “hey-“

you began to pout now, clinging to him as if you didn’t want to let him go. “no, don’t leave me sho.”

a defeated sigh escapes from his parted lips, with shouma pinching at the bridge of his nose in response. “what’s gotten into you? you’re acting strange.”

“it’s because… i don’t want to disappoint you.” his eyes widen when he sees the tears running down your cheeks and the way you began to sniffle. he shakes his head and uses the pads of his thumb to wipe away your tears.

“how could you ever disappoint me?”

your tears seem to cascade down your face now, with shouma using the sleeve of his hoodie to wipe them away, “b-because you’re experienced with… with physical intimacy and stuff… but i’ve never d-done anything like that before… and y-you invited me over made me really anxious and t-that’s why i drank so much, y-you know for liquid courage- a-and i just-!”

shouma then shuts down your ramblings by giving you a searing kiss against your lips, silencing you immediately. despite the saltiness of your lingering tears, you manage to kiss him back, basking in how gently he treated you. he ends up pulling you closer to him, with his hands delving into your hair while deepening the kiss.

once he was certain that your tears had dried did he finally pull away from you. keeping his gaze on you, shouma presses a lingering kiss against your forehead, “silly girl… i invited you over to my place because i feel so comfortable around you. you’re quiet, but kind hearted, and the way you hold no ill will towards my family… i want you to be here with me… and i’ll only initiate such acts when you allow it. every part of our relationship is on your terms because-“

shouma cuts himself short, letting out a huff as he decided to remain quiet just then. he lays back in bed and pulls you toward him, with your body flushed against him, making your heart begin to race as you replayed his words over and over again in your mind.

shouma was never one to be good with words-

but what he did say and reveal was more than enough for you.

you smile, still feeling the alcohol running pleasantly through your system while you cuddled even closer to him. short bursts of giggles escapes from you, “i’m still really drunk… and m’afraid i might not remember what you said.”

shouma lets out a scoff before tightening his arms around you, “then i’ll just have to remind you when morning comes.”

you could feel your grin become wider, and those three precious words were felt bubbling within your throat. however, you held off on speaking it, choosing instead to convey it in a different manner.

with your head resting against his chest, you allow your fingertips to travel toward his bicep, giving it deliberate taps.

one tap.

four taps.

three taps.

i love you.

satisfied with your actions, you let out a pleased hum before closing your eyes-

only to feel shouma lift his arms away from you. his hand was felt drawing comfortable circles around your back before giving it a series of deliberate taps as well-

one tap-

four taps-

three taps-

three taps.

i love you, too.

end notes: eeee don’t mind me. after finally hearing shouma’s voice in the anime, i’m happy to say that im a shouma girlie (⺣◡⺣)♡

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[theuniversitychallengereview]

Like Riding A Horse Into Battle

This is the story of how I became a knight (for approximately fifteen seconds).

My journey back from a lovely weekend in Oxford visiting a friend (saw some geese, drank some beer, watched a National League football match) necessitated two changes and went via London (via Didcot Parkway) because Sunday train timetables don't make any sense.

I got into Paddington and cycled through to Euston with the commentary of the Man Utd - Liverpool FA Cup match in my ears. So far so smooth.

Not for long. Chockablock at the Euston concourse. A crowd to fill twenty trains packed underneath the schedule screens, staring at page after page of delayeds. Signal failures between two places you've never heard of meaning every single route in and out of the station was in disarray.

Denied entry to the first train which left, I joined another thronging queue. We could see our train on the platform but no one was allowed through for about half an hour.

Twenty minutes into this interminable limbo, an Avanti staffer told us we could also queue in the adjacent concourse (both of which had access to the platform in question, but one of which had been empty). Ever the instruction follower, I moved over into the new zone, but when they opened the gates they only opened the ones for the old zone, prompting guttural groans from a number of men who felt that they (specifically) had been duped into joining the new queue for malicious reasons.

We did get through, eventually. But only after those from the original zone had been allowed to stampede like suitcase-laden wildebeest for about thirty seconds were we permitted to join the charge ourselves.

Spotting my bike, a staffer-cum-commanding officer yelled at me and said I was needed at the front. Or rather, he said I needed to be quick if I wanted to get to the furthest carriage before the train filled up and my bike wouldn't get on. But what I heard was that I was needed at the front.

Swinging a leg, I mounted my steed and did as my General had asked of me, absolutely nailing it past everyone else on the platform like I was riding a horse into battle.

Time stopped and I was King of Euston.

Pulverising these poor pedestrians with the prodigious power of my pedals.

They, lumbering, sluggish, lugging their cumbersome luggage. I, flowing, free, zipping transcendentally past them. So many people in such slow motion.

Time restarted, I dismounted.

A normal human being once more. But a normal human being with early access to the unreserved seats. The battle was over.

Sign up for The University Challenge Review

A few weeks ago I wrote about the fact I will never get the chance to be an elite athlete. This might be as close as I will ever get.

But on to eight people who have already experienced this, competing as they have done at the sharp end of student quizzing all series.

This is the last of the ten quarter-final matches, and sees Trinity take on Birkbeck.

Each have won and lost one of their previous matches at this stage, and its too close to call. If you want to watch the episode before reading the rest of the post you can do so here.

The winner will join UCL, Imperial and Manchester in the last four. If Birkbeck win there will be three London Unis in the semis for what would surely be the first time ever. Let's see if they can do it; here's your first starter for ten.

Jaksina attempts a bit of humour in his intro, saying 'I should be doing a masters in genetics, but instead I'm here', and while I'm not going to slate him too much, I think he should probably stick to the genetics once the tournament is over.

They manage none of the bonuses, and Bannerjee gets Trinity off the mark with Hero on the next starter. Caldera and Mesa gave them two of the three bonuses on geographical terms in Spanish, before Bannerjee gave them the lead with Einstein.

It's McMillan vs Bannerjee on the buzzer so far, and the Birkbeck man picks up his third of the evening with the picture starter, an extract from Sir Gawain and The Green Knight (who had a horse, which was also green, but not a bike). Demonstrating solid knowledge of medieval poetry, they take a hat-trick on the bonuses. The Chronos Quartet gave McMillan a fourth starter, and Strasbourg a fifth (with a neg from Bannerjee in between continuing their control of proceedings).

This must have given Henderson a taste for glory, because she was back at it with a rapid buzz of John Donne on the very next starter, breaking the duopoly. Another hat-trick on the bonuses tied the game.

Chadha continued the bright new post-McJee age with nucleation to grab the lead back for Birkbeck, but it didn't last long, with a superb Jaksina answer of Paraguay equalising for Trinity, and a Henderson bassoon nodding them ahead. The Cambridge side have really hit their stride now, and take a third consecutive 3/3 on the bonuses to take their biggest lead of the game.

Having hibernated for a few minutes, McMillan returns with Edith Cavell on the picture starter. Mixing up Marlene Dietrich and Greta Garbo leaves them 15 points adrift, but Kang takes charge with beryllium to put Trinity back in control.

He then pulls a magnificent educated guess of Cairo Station from the clue 'Egyptian transport terminus' on their first bonus. This kind of answer is absolute quizzing gold, based on nothing but word association, and Trinity are delighted by it.

An early buzz of Vienna by McMillan is wrong, and when Kang picks it up with Prague you sense that this is the end of the road for Birkbeck. It was the correct tactic to buzz in early, but these things don't always go your way, and his rueful shake of the head tells us he knows it's over too.

Rajan slates Kang for missing a bonus on a South Korean city, but it doesn't matter. Their place in the semis is already assured. Birkbeck 100 - 165 Trinity

A tight match up until the final few minutes, in which Trinity pulled away. A valiant performance from Birkbeck, especially McMillan, but they weren't quite good enough on the day.

The semi-final lineup is now complete, with my predictions coming 75% true.

Trinity

Manchester

UCL

Imperial

The first matchup is Imperial/Trinity followed by UCL/Manchester. I can't wait, see you there.

[kawuli]

when I was doing my great lakes bike trip last year, a woman and her husband from the next campsite over came to say hi (a bike with a trailer is a great conversation starter) and she told me, a bit sheepishly, that they were trying to visit every lighthouse in Michigan in their retirement. She seemed surprised I thought that was cool, and did that thing middle aged women do when you've signaled that it's OK for them to act enthusiastic about something "weird."

I don't remember the lighthouse facts I learned, beyond "holy shit Michigan has a lot of lighthouses", but it was fun to hear her talk about her Thing.

Lighthouses of the Great Lakes.

by researchremora

[universalzones]

There was never anything that could be considered a normal day in the Restoration. Something was always going on, either with Eggman, external or even internal shenanigans. This time, it was external shenanigans. All of a sudden, outside the Restoration HQ was a giant tank. It wasn't Eggman in design, or noticeably of any design seen before.

And not long after it appeared, some heads began poking out...children, coming out of the tank. Young dogs and cats.

"Huh...where is this now?" A young dog boy with a cap on his head muses aloud.

"Dunno. But it sure as heck ain't Gasco." A young cat boy in a suit replies.

"No need for such thanks. I'm simply doing my job is all. I'm happy to fix anything that needs to be fixed." Belle just finished repairing a hover bike, putting up her tools and getting ready to walk off. That was until a tank appeared out of nowhere just crushing all her work and nearly scaring the bolts out of her.

"Gear and starters, what's going on now?" Belle asked aloud as people were now scrambling to get their Wispon's with Wisps flying into them for this possible threat. The tinkerer thought it best to just get back into base, though then noticed some kids poke their head out, and quite a few of them. Followed by the puppet seeing a lot of people pointing weapons at the tank. She swiftly scrambled to climb the tank.

"Don't fire! There's kids in there! I repeat, don't fire!" Belle shouted as she waved her arms rather for anyone out of range to signal them not to fire either. Most of the soldiers who heard Belle seemed confused, though saw the kids as well, quickly aiming down with other's following suit.

[palmbleeder]

status. closed starter – @eclvpses

location. out by the studiaur.

notes. forty five years later... here we are! [oprah vc] lets celebrate that.

            “Montana, a dashing face sorely missed tonight. We meet again.” A tad deranged sounding? Bordering on milady territory? Maybe, so – Linus wouldn’t notice, or care to anymore. Far too elated which translates ungraciously to bricked up. Something happens to him when Monty calls. Well, texts but he hears their typed words as of lately; beckoning at him, his siren in the night, from under the jagged edges of a cliff so steep and perilous, so alluring – Which would be the studio tonight. Could’ve been Ambiance’s but they no where to be delightfully seen. Not even after the deluge of texts sent and caught in bubbling turmoil over throughout the entire night already forgotten in favor of the singular, unrelated reply received from Monty (Real pathetic stuff sent, at that. Highlights start at: ‘we’re playing 4 talon at ambiance tonite :~)’, ‘if you’re perchance feeling like catching a vibe :~)’, ‘and offering condolences ofc but yknow :~)’ + pin of the location, just in case they didn’t know where it was and two-maybe three selfies of himself in the green room with Gabe in the blurred peripheral; all big grins and unflattering angles’) His current stance doesn’t help, either – A pose near Viv, his darling bike, pathetically achieved after several tries. Deliciously self-conscious for them; hand on his hip as it popped but then too [signal drop] seemingly, settled into leaning on it but not before dropping it once, fuck. Even the placement of his bandana when it started on his wrist; not sexy enough, to then his neck but that’s more skin covered and what if they wanted to bite him? Jean-muffled cock jumps at the thought…. it is and lastly now shoved halfway into the tight pocket on his ass) Already feels the need to present. Feet-kickingly so, at times. A sensation most strange in the way it comforts; truly an old, delusional friend making return. “Apparently, we’re missing out on a gloryhole at May’s. Is that something of your interest? I could ride us back. We could grab something for the road. A feast before our feast. What do you say?”

[fixtionvixen]

The engine roars as it speeds down the country road, bike quivering beneath you and your grip tightening around him as he hits the gas to take you another mile. You can feel the energy coming off him in waves, equal parts exhilaration and calmness that only the winding of the roads on a sunny day can bring you. It brings a dopey smile to your face, knowing his is glowing just as much underneath his helmet.

You both finished work late, him at a construction company and you at a medical office. Neither of you content where you're at but never able to find the right time to fulfill your dreams. Late night conversations and apartment balcony talks over what you both want out of life and the risks you want to take, just put off til the next paycheck, til the next holiday, til next winter, over and over again. But today... today it changes.

You tap his shoulder to signal him the way to go, the small town up ahead coming into view and in it the piece of the puzzle you think is missing. You've taken a few tours through the empty rooms, the realtor appeasing your questions then your best friends questions as you dragged them through to get their thoughts. It all feels good, the universe signaling you that it's time for that next step. And if you don't jump now, when will you?

Heading into the center of town, he pulls into a parking spot, assuming the lit up bar with patio lights is where you're going for the evening. Grabbing his hand, you pull him in the opposite direction, ignoring his questions and his playful tugs to turn back the way you came. You stop near a bakery, him frowning at the dark interior before you bring him to the storefront next to it, the small porch on the front making it look like a house nestled between businesses. Smiling, you reach into the mailbox for the key the realtor left you, looking back to see his eyebrow raise and excitement at your energy lighting up his eyes. Opening the door, you stand to the side, bowing courteously for him to enter first.

He walks in, hands tucked into his pockets, curiously taking it in but asking no questions, drawing his own conclusions as to why you're here. You stand nervously inside the door, knowing this is the right place, but still unsure of the response you'll get from him. He strolls through the space, dipping into the back hallway and through the kitchenette and office, running a calloused finger across the dusty desk near the entryway, feeling your eyes on him the entire time.

He turns once he reaches the middle of the room and asks for the rundown, waiting for you to implode with the ideas you've been harboring for years. Immediately obliging him, you jump up to sit on top of the desk as the mental pictures rush to your brain, coloring the dusty floors and yellowed walls with colors and life like it's never seen, and you begin to lay out your designs for what will become your bookstore.

Starting with the porch, you create a nook for what a customer would want to experience in their own home, bringing their attention to the store and sparking their own imagination. Depending on the season, the scene changes with each passing month. But for starters, a blanket over a porch swing, a tray with a glass of wine or a cup of tea and candlelight flickering at all times of the day. A pile of books sits nearby, one for gardening sitting open on the swing and a planter full of messy herbs sits on the front stoop, looking haphazard as if the reader was looking for advice on how to garden. Gloves and a small trowel sit on the tray with the drink and a smudge of dirt sits along the side of the glass. The bell on the door jingles, drawing you inside to find more delights.

A jewel tone green makes it way up the walls, looking almost velvet to the touch, meeting dark wood crown molding and a ceiling a shade darker, highlighting the gold astrological layout etched into the ceiling. Lush carpets in whites and grays are thrown about, making it look cozy without looking chaotic. The desk feels old, making the computer system atop it seem out of place. Hanging from it is a selection of windchimes, each handmade and crafted so no owner has the exact same. A small chalk sign stands in one corner, listing that weeks recommended reads sitting on top of the suggested books. A small section of discounted books sits to the right with a smattering of candles made by a friend along with some spell jars tucked in between the stacks.

Looking to the left, the store opens up into the bookstore section. Dark wood book shelves are lined up, each filled with a different category and items that correspond with that category. Love spells and red candles sit among the romance section while focus jars and energy incense sit alongside the science fiction category. Succulents drape across the gardening and food section and a small tray offers a coupon to head next door for a discounted scone with any book purchase. Home and self improvement books stand to each side of a brick fireplace filled with white candles of varying sizes. A chair the color of mustard is positioned off to one side with a smattering of floor cushions stacked next to it, with a spinning book shelf at the right height to place a drink if one wanted but tall enough to hold children's books so those who are dragged in by their parents can grab a cushion and a book and veg in the room while the parents have a break to shop for themselves.

At the back of the store, behind the desk, is a door that sits between two cutouts in the wall. One that looks into a kitchenette, the white covered in a sea of vines, greenery hanging from the ceiling as if the room has a doorway to a secret garden. From the cutout, customers can see a scene set up as if someone just finished coffee and the paper, forgoing both for the latest thriller that is still open, a napkin sitting in the crease to keep the place in the book. Through the other cutout, the room shimmers with reflective lights and gauzy curtained windows. The dark green makes it way halfway across the room, the other half the same white and vines as the kitchen, filled with gold and copper accents to bring in an aged office look complete with a bourbon bar cart. A loveseat matching the chair in the main room sits alongside one wall, facing the antique desk where you'll spend many a night doing the business end of things and panicking but enjoying every single second. Both sections off limits to customers but still makes them wonder what delights each room holds. A bathroom tucked away along the back corner is wall to wall antique postcards, making sure the customers are never drawn to the same one twice. Every corner more fun and dramatic than the last, each more memorable than the one before.

You blink quickly, bringing yourself back into the present, watching as your dreams fade into the walls and floors and you're returned to the real world. Your man stands between your thighs, one hand rubbing along the outside of your leg and the other braced against the desk, head turned to stare into the darkened space you just filled with your thoughts. He turns, meeting your eyes and borderline blinding you with his smile, joy at your find making him excited for what your future may bring for you. Smiling back at him, you loop your arms around his neck and seal your fate with a stolen kiss, one that you both know will not end with just one. Behind you both, through the glass windows, fireflies twinkle in the twilight, encasing your world in magic for just a little longer.

[scottatkinson]

Bicycle Race

“Don’t forget your helmets guys!” My mom hollers.

We bolt out the door onto the rough pebbly sidewalk. 

“Dibs first.” I go, knowing that there is probably a better chance of winning the lottery. 

“Ya right. Hold this.” My brother Eric hands me the old stopwatch our uncle gave us.

“35 seconds, that’s the record. Today’s the day. I can feel it.” He boasts confidently.

“I thought yesterday was the day and what about before that?” I respond.

“Whatever, idiot. Just watch and learn. Count me down.”

“Three… two… one … GO!” I click the green starter button.

Eric pushes off with his left leg and hurls himself atop the mini Santa Cruz bike with flames painted on the frame. His hands reefing on the handlebars and butt fully off the seat as he picks up speed. He busts up the hill narrowly avoiding an elderly couple in their bathing suits. They hold their hands up and mutter in anger as Eric bolts off up toward the main road. He turns right onto the road and for a second he disappears behind the trees. I catch flashes as he appears between the trees and then disappears again. A hard right turn back onto the sidewalk now challenges Eric to brake while turning hard, causing his back tire to skid out. He overdoes it a tad and has to use his foot as a brake to straighten himself out. He winds his way downhill picking up speed as he reaches the homestretch. He crosses in front of me as the timer hits 36 seconds.

I let out a chuckle as he looks over his shoulder to try and read my expression.

“36.” I laugh again.

“No chance! You stopped when my front tire crossed you right?”

“What difference would that even make? That’s probably a milliseconds difference.” I respond

“I just don’t get it I’ve hit 36 like 5 times now. Whatever, still better than you.”

“We’ll see.” 

Eric unstraps his helmet and hands it to me.

“No helmet, it slows me down,” I tell him.

“I’m not helping you if you hurt yourself.” He warns.

I hop on the bike. My heartbeat picks up and my vision narrows. 

“On your marks… .get set… GO!”

I take off just before the go signal. My feet move violently in circles. 

“CHEATER!” He yells.

I continue up and around the same old track I’ve done hundreds of times. Pumping my legs and gripping the handlebars as if my life depended on it. As I turn into the difficult turn I cut it close as my bare right calf rubs up against the concrete barrier. I hold my path. A beam of bright lights hits my face as I begin to whip my back tire around the turn. A loud honk blares at me. I perfectly accelerate out of the sharp turn with my sights on the finish. With Eric in sight, I empty the tank and cross the end line. I come to a streaking stop and quickly turn my head in anticipation. 

Eric pauses. “ It doesn’t count you started early.”

“Did I beat it?” 

“It doesn’t matter… it doesn’t count.” He mutters and walks inside, slamming the door behind him.

I check the stopwatch: 35.59.

First piece of media : A GIF of a scene from “Stepbrothers.” One of my favourite movies and a good representation of the theme of these short stories. “Brotherly Love” sums it up well.

Second piece : “Bicycle Race”, by Queen. I thought it was a fitting soundtrack for this story.

Third piece : A very similar bike to the one that me and my brother had. Imagine poorly painted flames added on to the frame. https://mbaction.com/santa-cruz-launches-custom-hightower-fire-relief/

[vquacki]

A once married man

A once married man  

Characters: Imaushi Wakasa, 

Warning ⚠︎︎ : Mature content, cussing, violence, dilf, age gap, MINORS DNI

Note : hi everyone! You all might be a little disappointed in this since it probably isn't what you expected and I made yall wait like a week for this ): This is just a little starter for me if I do make this a series / make a part two! but I hope you enjoy anyways! 

Pt.2 ☞ ♡

He was married, one kid. 

It's a complete mystery how you fell in love with this man. He was a 34 year old dad while you were a 20 year old broke college student, struggling to pay off your debt. 

It wasn't a pleasant relationship, he said. but here you were, waiting for your date and his kid to meet you at the food stands stationed outside a tourist attraction hot spot. You tapped your feet against the floor as you gripped the strap to your handbag. 

You were informed a few minutes prior that the mom of Wakasa’s son would be coming to pick their kid up. Your boyfriend adding information that made your feet wiggle against the sole of your shoes.

You recalled the whole conversation. 

“We were already on the way here when his mom wanted to come pick him up so I just told her to meet me here.” you could hear him sigh on the other line. 

 “Sorry if she's a pain in the ass. She tends to be a little too much, Overbearing even though we aren't together anymore” you heard his kid mumble about not wanting to go to his moms house only for his father to silently hush him. 

“No it's okay, Waka! I understand his mom wants to spend time with him” You said cheeringly, but underneath that reassuring smile you were nervous. 

You didn't know what his ex wife would think of you, no- you didn't know how she would react to you always around their kid whenever you would sleep over at his fathers apartment.

Your name being hollered across the street snapped you out of your trance, looking over to see your boyfriend. Shinichiro, his kid named after one of his old best friends, waving at you as he sat in his dad's arms. 

Waiting until the street signaled red, the duo made their way over to you. 

The child's smile grew as Wakasa placed him down. Letting the kids feet touch against the sement, waddling his way over to you. Hugging your legs, the weight almost causing you to tip over, before a hand grasped at your forearm. Pulling you forward to meet the chest of your striped haired boyfriend. 

“Careful,” Wakasa uttered, a small smile present on his lips. 

“Hi waka” 

You beamed, wrapping one hand around the males waist, squishing the child in between both of your legs. Getting lost in the man's beautiful lazy eyes as you just stared at each other. 

A drawn out whine could be heard from below along with little hands tugging at your shirt, demanding for your attention. 

“Hi shin! How are you?” you asked, bending down onto one knee to match the little boy's height. 

“I'm really good! My dad just bought me a toy motorcycle!” Shinichiro’s eyes shined as he held the toy up to your face. Showing you the detailed replica of the old Shinichiro's bike. 

“Aww that's so cool!” your mouth forming a shape of a ‘O’ as you admired the gift.

“Okay Shin, let's go get some ice cream before your mom comes to get you” Wakasa interrupted as he looked around, searching for an ice cream parlor. 

“But I don't want to go to moms..” Shinichiro mumbled.

“Can I just spend the day with you and Y/N?” Shinichiro pouted, his eyes pleading against his fathers orbs.

“No Shinichiro, you were already supposed to be back yesterday. And you know how your mom gets when you overstay” Wakasa answered as he patted his son's hair, sympathy and sadness washed over his face.

“Believe me Shin, I want to spend more time with you as well” Wakasa consoled. 

You remember little snippets of Wakasa telling you about his ex wife, her and Wakasa fought for custody for Shinichiro once the two divorced. Wakasa ended up only allowed to spend weekends with his son, and that was the judge being generous, due to his past reputation with the black dragons. 

Way before the divorce, once he heard he was expected to be a father he quit his dangerous ways, marrying the girl. Wanting his child to experience having a mother and father figure. 

But it could only last for so long, the couple argued over every little thing. Not even leaving space for quality family time. 

“Wakasa! Shinichiro!” 

Your head spun around when you heard a feminine voice calling your boyfriend's and his childs name. 

“Hi mom!” Shinichiro waved, his frown flipping over to a fake smile. 

“Hi baby!” her smile dropped as soon as she saw you. Her face twisting around in grotesque. 

“Who’s she? Another one of your whores stringing along?” she smirked, her son's saddened face staring down at the floor. It was like she had done this before. 

The boy looked like he had experienced this far too many times to comprehend.

“The hell is wrong with you?” Wakasa kept his composure, slinging his arm around your waist. Pulling you to his side. 

She looked at the two of you repulsively,

 “kinda looks like it? You playing around with minors now? Oh how low you've become” her shit eating grin eating away at your resolve. 

Wakasa rolled his eyes before mumbling, “none of your business” under his breath. He peered back down at his son. Slightly bending at the knees to meet his boys gaze.

“Okay kiddo, daddy will see you next weekend” Wakasa waved, earning a scoff from the mother before she dragged Shinichiro away by the hand. Mumbling incoherent insults at the two of you.

He sighed, rubbing his temple in annoyance as soon as they went out of sight. 

“I'm sorry” he turned to you, an apologetic frown on his face. 

“It's okay” you reassured him, you excitedly hooked your arm with his, secretly happy the two of you would have alone time together.

“But Waka..” a playful pout appearing on your face as soon as he looked down at you. 

“You're not just messing with me cause you're bored right?” you sulked, half of you was joking while the other was searching for a genuine answer. 

Your mind was boggled, you didn’t know whether to question him further on the matter. Were there many woman before you?

You couldn’t help but feel a little insecure at her words.

“Am I a string along?” his eyes widened, his face bewildered. Questioning why you even asked that question before his mind wandered to his ex wife's comments. 

“No baby, you're the only one,” he answered, regaining his composure. Leaning in to peck your forehead, for extra assurance.

You grinned hearing his answer.

“Good! Now lets go get some ice cream! All this is making me hungry!” You yelled, your arm pulling Wakasa behind you as you walked over to the ice cream place a few feet away from you. 

“Anything for my girl” Wakasa beamed. 

END NOTE : Okay, as I said before this was just my jumpstart since I might make this a series. Or atleast make a part two! Let me know what yall think i should do! >.<

[queenmuzz]

A Seed of Truth

A Fluffy Vergil x Reader One Shot

Life went on as usual in the peaceful island city of Fortuna.  Lord Sparda ruled with a benevolent hand over the people with his wife, Lady Eva, nurturing the arts and culture of the populace.  They were the perfect couple, each combining their strengths and abilities, to lead the island into a golden age.

And then there were their sons, the twins Vergil and Dante.  While the Lord and Lady were quite too busy to make regular appearances to the common folk, the Princes were not that restrained.  Prince Dante was regularly seen chatting at the market, buying up lots of strawberries, while slipping the kids little chocolates and candies when he thought their parents weren’t looking, before racing off on his custom built bike.

Prince Vergil, on the other hand, was a bit more reserved.  You’d seen him at your place of work, the library, deep in a book, or in the Fortuna Gardens, admiring the flowers, giving off an aura  that he didn’t want to be disturbed.  But when someone mustered up the courage to talk to him, he was kind and courteous, especially when the subject turned to his interests, such as literature, or gardening.  He was a man of few words, unlike his brother, but he never minced words, always preferring to speak the truth over flattering speech.

What both men had in common though, was they were both devilishly handsome.  With their father’s bone white hair, and their mother’s elegant facial features, the two men could look good in anything, whether it was formal outfits, as well their casual clothes (Usually a red leather motorcycle jacket for Dante, and a dark blue turtleneck for Vergil).  And with both of them single and available, there was a large part of the city gossiping on who they might choose to settle down with.

So it happened you were in the market with your friend, Sarah, one beautiful spring day when you heard the sound of trumpets, and the clanging of the City Herald’s bell, signaling an announcement.  The crowds began to converge to the centre of the piazzo.  Ripples of excitement fluttered rapidly as everyone realized that the herald was not alone.  There, standing behind the man were the twin Princes, both in their formal royal attire. Dante beamed like the cat that caught the canary, while Vergil...looked more like the canary that had been caught.  You almost felt bad at how uncomfortable he looked, surrounded by so many people, but if he was here despite how much he disliked crowds, this meant whatever was about to be announced was very important.

“HEAR YE! HEAR YE!” the herald announced, clanging his bell one last time, and the crowd was silenced.  Satisfied that he would not be interrupted, the herald continued.

“A ROYAL ANNOUNCEMENT!  PRINCE VERGIL HAS DECIDED IT IS TIME FOR HIM TO MARRY!” A gasp came from the crowd, then cheers, which Vergil did his best to ignore.  The herald rang his bell again.

“HE HAS DECIDED TO CHOOSE A LADY FROM AMONG THE YOUNG WOMEN OF THIS FAIR CITY!”  Another sharp gasp, but everyone was so flabbergasted, the herald didn’t have to settle them down.  “IN ORDER TO HELP HIM DECIDE, ANY YOUNG LADY WISHING TO PROVE HERSELF IS TO TAKE A TEST!”  Two servants carried a sheet covered wicker basket, placing it in front of the herald, and then they carefully removed the linen  “IN THIS BASKET, ARE SEEDS OF THE WHITE  CHRYTHANSEUM  FLOWER!  ALL…” the herald attempted to form a word that didn’t sound so awkward, but failed, “APPLICANTS ARE INSTRUCTED TO TAKE AND PLANT ONE PINCH OF SEEDS.  WHEN THE FALL MARKET FAIR ARRIVES, ALL LADIES ARE TO BRING THEIR PLANTS TO BE JUDGED, AND PRINCE VERGIL WILL PICK THE ONE WHO HAS GROWN THE MOST BEAUTIFUL ONE!  A WOMAN WHO CAN GROW SOMETHING EXTRAORDINARY, WILL PROVE THAT SHE HAS THE QUALITIES THE PRINCE LOOKS FOR!”

“That seems rather...shallow,” Sarah muttered as already, every young eligible woman pushed aside the crowds to make a beeline to the basket, “but who am I to judge?  Besides…” she grinned, “he’s pretty good looking.” “Yes, Prince Vergil is rather handsome,” you admitted.  

Sarah did a double-take, “Nah, I meant prince Dante, I wouldn’t mind if he bent me over his motorcycle and-”

“They’re twins! They’re virtually identical!”

“In looks, yeah...but personality, they’re night and day… and I prefer the day.” She looked at you expectedly, “Well, what are you waiting for?  Go get in line!” “I couldn’t…” you protested.

“Oh come on...it’ll be fiiine, you’re a pretty good gardener, I’ve seen the plants you keep in your rooftop garden, you’ll grow the best fricken’ chryth-  chrythan…”

“Chrysthanthemums,” you clarified…”You can call them ‘mums’, that’s what a lot of people do. And…” you stared at the ever growing line of women.  “Well, I suppose, worst case scenario, I’ll have a pretty flower for the autumn season”, and so, you went to the end of the line, ready to get your chance to spend your life with the handsome, aloof, but intelligent prince.  As you took your place, you heard Sarah murmur, “I hope Prince Dante has a motorcycle race as a contest….”

Eventually, you got to the front of the line, and were given a pinch of seeds.  You tried to keep your eyes averted from the two princes, as you wrapped them in a handkerchief, but you couldn’t help but glance up, to see the younger prince, still beaming, while his older brother stood stiffly, his brows furrowed, his arms crossed.

“This is a terrible idea, brother.”  You heard Vergil mutter.

“Nah, this,” Dante spread his arm out, “this is the perfect way to find the lady of your dreams.” “None of these women seem to possess the qualities I desire…” “Well, leave your pessimism until the fall...you can beat my ass if you don’t find what you’re looking for.”

*******

You got home, and quickly brought out a shallow glazed blue pot out from your shed. It would be the perfect starter pot for it to sprout, before you could transplant into a flower pot proper.  And then, you carefully poured a layer of sandy soil, before gently unwrapping the handkerchief and sprinkling the seeds onto the moist dirt.  There was something...off about the seeds...like they were too clean, but you paid it no mind.  These were most likely from the Fortuna Castle Gardens, so they were top quality, so even if you didn’t pay attention to the plant, you would most likely grow better than the average flower.  But you weren’t just going to neglect this chance of a lifetime.  

Measuring out precise amounts of fertilizer, and a bit of water, not too much, not too little, you were going to put your life and soul into this plant.  So much so, that the Prince would feel your love and care radiating out of each and every petal.

******* Ten days passed, with you constantly making sure that the soil wasn’t too moist, to discourage mildew, and keeping it under a fluorescent light, and yet no bright green sprouts poked out.  That was alright, the flower had a variable growing period, you had a nearly two week span for it to begin to sprout.  Every Morning, you had a routine.  You’d wake up, and while your breakfast toast browned, you’d check on the pot, giving it a sprinkle of water, and when needed, a dusting of fertilizer, before setting it back up to face the light.  And each night, you’d give it a final check, occasionally singing it a lullaby.  Yes, it was silly, but you couldn’t help but do everything to help it grow

But nearly a month later, still nothing.  You bit your knuckle as you paced your rooftop garden, the pot now being placed in the sunshine during the day, some netting to protect it from birds and rodents, trying to figure out why there hadn’t been any sprouts.  Perhaps the breed was a slow growing one, saving up energy for a robust bloom in the fall.  Yes, that would be the reason.  But, to ease your mind, you decided to check out with some of your acquaintances that had participated in the competition.  Nothing too intrusive, not spying, just to see how everything was going for them.

Your downstairs neighbor, a young woman who worked at the corner cafe, smiled when you asked how progress was going.  “It’s going wonderful!” she exclaimed, and quickly showed off her pot.  To your dismay, the healthy shoots spiked out two inches out of the soil, a good week and half of growth. “Yours must be twice this size!” your neighbor gushed, “you’re such a good person with all types of plants!  Do you mind showing me?” “I uh..” you scrambled to find an excuse, “I don’t want to disturb the growing plants more than necessary at this stage,” which was true, if your plant had a chance of growing healthy at this point, it couldn’t be put under any stress.

“Ah, understandable...well,” she looked back at her plant like a loving mother looking proudly at her baby, “May the best gardener win!” 

The door shut in your face, as you glumly went up the stairs to your apartment…

Yes, may the best gardener win…

*********

Summer came with a flash of heat, and even though your flowers hadn’t even so much peeked out of the soil, you continually did your routine of watering, fertilizing, and caring for the apparently lifeless pot.  You still had hope...you HAD to keep up hope.  One of those seeds had to be viable, just waiting to burst out like one of those prank snakes in a can….but nothing.

It didn’t help that everywhere you went, from your work at the library, to the market, all you could hear was women bragging about how healthy, how large, and how vibrant their budding plants were.  In fact, some of the ladies would go in public, either carrying their plants to show them off, with glossy green leaves, or if they were upper class, have a servant follow behind them, lugging the pot around, like a governess watching over their child.

Unfortunately, a new law had to be passed, after a half dozen women got into a full out brawl in the piazza, each fighting for the right to having the ��best’ chrysanthemum, to ban the carrying of plants in the marketplace, except for the purposes of sale.  Thankfully, the only casualties of the savage fight was several pots and their unfortunate occupants….and the hopes and dreams of their owners.

And yet, seeing all these plants, hearing the boasts about how well they grew, just depressed you.  You had worked so, so hard… and nothing.  How could you show up with a pot of dirt, while surrounded by such wonderful specimens?  You might as well drop out of the contest, and save yourself the humiliation.

Two weeks before the Fall market fair was set to begin, Sarah came over to your house.  You hadn’t let anyone in, ashamed at your failure, terrified you’d be laughed out of town for not being able to raise a plant as hardy and simple to grow as a Chrysanthemum.  But...Sarah was different, she didn’t have a stake in the whole contest.

“How’s the Chryth- I mean the Mum growing business?” She innocently asked, unaware of your summer of troubles “it’s gotta be, like six feet tall, with your skills.  Prince Vergil’s gonna be knocked out of his royal pants when he sees yours, eh?”

It was time to break the truth, both to your friend… and yourself.  “I’m… I’m not going to the fair.”

It took Sarah a moment, while she blinked, once, twice...three times.  

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’RE NOT GOING?!”

You led her up to the rooftop, the sun of a late afternoon warming the nape of your neck, to show her the shallow blue pot, without a hint of green. “Nothing grew...I did everything I was supposed to, I watered, I fertilized, I made sure it wasn’t too cold or too hot...and still...nothing”  Even now, you tried to make sure the tears that dribbled down your cheeks didn’t splash into the soil, salt water would be bad for the seeds.  “I can’t go...can’t show everyone what a failure I was.  Everyone else will have beautiful flowers, and all I’ll have...is this.”

Sarah rubbed your shoulder in support, but her voice was firm.  “You should still bring it.  I know you, I know you put a heart and soul into raising those seeds, I can feel it.  Bring it to the fair, and if Prince Vergil can’t sense about how much love you shoved into every seed, then fuck him, he ain’t worth your time.”  She wiped your tears with a tissue, helping you calm down.  Perhaps she had a point. You had done everything you could, you couldn’t be blamed for neglect.  “Honestly, your mum is personally my favourite all this year.”

Perplexed, you looked at your friend.

“Everyone is growing these damn things. I think I’m gonna puke if I get another whiff of a mum.   Yours smells the nicest.”

At least, Sarah’s sense of humour lightened your spirits, if only a little.

*******

Sarah wasn’t wrong.  The overpowering smell of hundreds of white blooms blotted over the traditional scents of the autumn fair, such as apple pie or roast pork.  And instead of the the mooing and baaing of prizewinning cows and sheep, all you could hear were the titterings and gossip of the young women of the city, each bragging about how hard they worked to grow their flowers, how much love and care they’d placed into each glossy leaf, on how it was a certainty that they’d catch the Prince’s eye.

You tried to stay as inconspicuous as possible, and mostly you succeeded, as everyone was more focused on their own plant, or giving out disapproving looks at their nearby rival’s.  But every so often, a lady would look down confused at your pot, before giving a small pitying smile.  You could even tell your otherwise perfectly nice downstairs neighbor was secretly relieved that she didn’t have any competition from you.

The only one who paid attention to you, without judgement, was Sarah, who gave you an encouraging smile.

“After this, let’s go to the bar and get so plastered you forget this entire summer, my treat!” she chirped, and you couldn’t help but smile.  In truth, you really wanted to wipe this whole debacle out of your memory for the rest of your life.  Just a few more minutes to go….

The sound of the herald’s bell silenced the crowd, and all the contestants stood up a bit straighter, some checking both their dresses and plants one last time, ready to present their best.  Even you couldn’t help doing the same.

“HEAR YE! HEAR YE!”  The stiff man called out, ringing his bell one last time.  “THE JUDGMENT WILL NOW BEGIN,”  a group of finely dressed people, apparently the judges, stood up, but the Herald continued, “WITH BOTH PRINCE DANTE AND PRINCE VERGIL AS THE FINAL ARBITRATORS.”  Everyone, including yourself, did a collective gulp as the familiar colours of Crimson and Azure appeared on the platform.  Both men were dressed to perfection, their gold tasseled lapels shining in the fall sunlight, their black pants perfectly pressed.  But their looks on their faces seemed cold...almost upset.  Even the usually jovial smile on the younger twin was gone, replaced by a worried frown.  But that was nothing in comparison with Vergil’s face.  He looked...disgusted.  Surrounded by some of the most gorgeous flowers you had ever seen, and he yet, seemed to be repulsed by them all as his eyes scanned the crowd.  If these plants weren’t up to his high standards, your pot didn’t have a chance.

“I told you this was a terrible idea…” you heard him mutter, presumably to his brother, “Not a single woman has what I am looking for...the dishonesty of it all. When we get home, I don’t care how much mother protests, you will regret ever suggestin-” he stopped.  His eyes were fixed at one point, and everyone followed his line of sight…

that led to you and your little barren pot. 

Without warning, Prince Vergil quickly stepped down the wooden stairs, his footsteps steady but his frantic pace betraying something more.  Even now, as he approached, you thought that maybe he was looking at the lady beside you, a smaller than average plant, but one with many, many healthy white blooms.  That MUST be who he was interested in.  His face wasn’t as upset as before, but you couldn’t tell what his exact feelings were.  But as he got closer, now a few paces away, his eyes never left you, and you couldn’t help it, you averted your eyes, partially out of deference, partially out of fear.  Was he offended that you had dared bring this failure to be judged?  Your heart pounded so loud, you could barely make out the sound of his footsteps stopping before you, the only reason you could tell he was there, was his shiny black leather shoes halting in front of you.

“Your name?” he demanded, but not as harshly as you had feared.  You gave it out, your voice trembling.

“And this…” his long, elegant fingers grazed against the edge of the blue glaze, “is your attempt at growing a White Chrysanthemum?”  Strange, you’d expected him to be dismissive, but there was a sense of earnestness in the questition. You nodded, trying to get the words out.  “Y-yes, My Lord.  I did...I did everything I could...I watered, I fertilized, I gave the seeds all the sunlight it could ever need, but…” You couldn’t keep back the sob that burst from your throat, and tears dribbled down your cheeks.  You were so ashamed at your failure.

Unexpectedly, you felt warm fingers on your chin, gently lifting your face up, to finally look up at him.  You’d never been so close to the Prince before, and he was even more handsome up close.  And that hard expression that once there, was gone, replaced by something that confused you.  It looked like...admiration?  But for what?

“You were the only one, out of everyone here,” he spoke softly, for your ears alone, “who didn’t hide behind lies...you did all you could, and didn’t hide your supposed ‘failure.’” The way he emphasised that last word puzzled you and you gave him a quizzical look.  He smiled softly and pulled out a silk blue handkerchief to wipe your tears away.  

“Ladies and Gentleman!”  Dante strode up to front of the platform, temporarily ripping everyone’s attention from you and the Prince.  He had a grin that looked like he had been keeping it in for weeks, or even months. “I’d like to make a VERY IMPORTANT announcement.”  He took a breath, obviously savouring the moment.  “You see, when we gave out those seeds...well, before we brought them out...we boiled them, the entire batch.  Therefore…” he trailed off allowing the quicker members assembled to place the pieces together. “None of the seeds should be growing anything, you might as well used them for bug spray”  

Panicked gasps came from the women, each rapidly looking at each other, and then down at the pots they held.  A sound of shattering clay as several pots smashed from being dropped by some of the shocked ladies, who quickly ran for the exit of the fair, the crowds parting away for them.

Dante yanked the bell out of the Herald’s hand, and rang it, signalling everyone to settle down.  “See, what my dear brother wanted in a woman wasn’t a good gardener, although there’s nothing wrong with that.  Verg’s pretty handy at growing stuff…” his grin softened to genuine pride, “No, what he wanted was a woman who could be truthful to him, not try to flatter him with lies to soothe his pride and ego… And trust me, his ego is as big as it is....”

Vergil swung his head over to his younger brother, scowling momentarily, cutting the speech off.  But, slowly, he turned back to you, his fingers stroking the rapidly dry tear tracks on your cheeks.  “I..know this… whole turn of events is rather sudden and unexpected...but...will,” he struggled with the words, the first time you had ever seen him this nervous, “will you take me?”

Your eyes watered up with tears, but not out of grief, but of happiness.  You smiled, and nodded, not trusting your voice to say anything.  He almost seemed surprised at your assent, standing stock still  momentarily, before his smile blossomed fully as he took your hand and led you through the quickly parting crowds, as a large amount of cheers erupted in congratulations, celebrating Fortuna’s newest Princess.  

You felt a brush against your shoulder, and heard the voice of Sarah’s at your ear.  “I knew you could do it!” She was barely audible above the crowd, “Now...would Your Royal Highness mind putting a good word for me with Prince Dante?...”

Tagging    mandyvc  (won’t let me tag you for some reason)

[extra-pounds]

Best Form Of Exercise You Should Start to Burn Fat Faster

It burns calories and has been linked to a variety of additional advantages, including a better mood and healthier bones.

Many chronic diseases, such as diabetes and heart disease, are also reduced.

Here are some of the best form of exercises you could start now to burn fat faster;

1. Walking

Walking is one of the most effective weight-loss workouts. It’s a simple and practical approach for novices to begin exercising without feeling overwhelmed or having to invest in expensive equipment.

As you get more fit, you can gradually increase the length or frequency of your walks. Try walking during your lunch break or using the stairs at work to get additional steps.

2. Running

Before you leave the house, all you need is a pair of sneakers. If you want to lose weight, though, a casual light-jog style of running isn’t the way to go. Instead, find a hill to sprint up or increase the treadmill’s gradient.

Because it involves smaller muscle engagement and higher energy expenditure, running up hills compels you to work your glutes and legs, two of your body’s largest muscle groups, especially harder.

As previously said, the more energy you expend, the brighter the calorie-burning fire becomes.

3. Cycling

Cycling is a popular exercise that can help you lose weight and improve your fitness. Cycling is beneficial to people of all fitness levels, from novices to elite athletes.

It’s also a non-weight-bearing, low-impact workout, so your joints won’t be overworked.

Although cycling is generally done outside, many gyms and fitness facilities have stationary bikes that allow you to pedal indoors.

4. Yoga

Yoga is a popular form of exercise and stress relief. While it isn’t typically viewed as a weight-loss activity, it does burn a lot of calories and has a lot of other health benefits that can help you lose weight.

Yoga can help you reject bad foods, regulate overeating, and better understand your body’s hunger signals, in addition to burning calories.

Yoga can be practiced anyplace. This can be done from the convenience of your own home, as there are numerous guided instructions available online.

5. Weight Training

For those trying to lose weight and improve their fitness, weight training is a popular option. Lifting weights, for starters, can help you reduce fat while also increasing muscle mass, which is great for your metabolism.

Muscle mass burns more calories than fat, thus having more muscle burns more calories every day, even while you’re asleep. Muscle mass does not compensate for a lack of nourishment in weight loss, but it can assist.

Keep in mind that whether you utilize lesser or higher weights is entirely up to you, but all weight categories require a different method to successfully grow muscle. Lighter weights necessitate more reps and sets, while bigger weights necessitate fewer reps and sets.

6. Swimming

Swimming is a great method to get in shape and reduce weight. The amount of calories you burn appears to be influenced by how you swim.

A 70-kg person can burn up to 298 calories in 30 minutes by doing backstroke, 372 calories by doing breaststroke, 409 calories by doing butterfly, and 372 calories by treading water.

Swimming also has the benefit of being low-impact, which makes exercise gentler on your joints. This makes it an excellent choice for anyone suffering from injuries or joint pain.

7. Boxing

Boxing is really just another form of interval training. Beginners often make the mistake of relying solely on their arm strength to punch, but the majority of your power will come from your core, and you’ll activate muscles that are generally overlooked in other workouts.

This type of training is best done in a group setting. It’s also critical for novices to learn good form from an instructor who can help you maintain a high level of intensity.

However, if you want to improve your talents at home, look for beginner-friendly videos on the internet.

8. Cardio

Cardio is often the first workout that people perform when they wish to reduce weight. While cardio is fantastic for raising your heart rate and burning calories, it isn’t the most effective weight-loss activity.

Cardio is vital for weight loss, but you need also include some muscle-building workouts to maximize your effects. Cardio is a crucial aspect of any fitness plan, and you should incorporate it, along with strength training, in your weekly routine.

Conclusion

You can lose weight through a variety of exercises.

Walking, running, biking, weight training, and aerobics are some of the wonderful ways to burn calories.

However, it is important that you choose an exercise that you enjoy. Your chances of moving forward and getting long-term results.

[fonulyn]

I've had this idea for a prompt and.. I honestly think you'd do a great job at it cause I love your works. It's kinda silly but got potential. It's for the Leon/Piers/Chris ot3, where two of em are dating and, while sexting, one accidentally switches to the group chat, and sends their message/picture there!

okay this is not 100% what you said but amskdjfnkjn I kept thinking about this ask all day at work today so here’s a little something :’D 

--

Chris really fucking hated meetings. Especially inter-organizational ones, as there were so many things to nitpick on and so many ways to screw up the carefully formulated contracts. Mostly he just sat back and listened to the lawyers hash it out, waiting for them to finally be done so he could go home. 

It was a small consolation that Leon hated these things equally much, at least, and they were both stuck here. Leon seemed to be actually paying attention, most of the time, even if he managed to catch Chris’ eyes at least twice just to subtly roll his eyes. 

So when Chris’ phone vibrated in his pocket it was a welcome distraction, and immediately he fished it out and thumbed it open. It was a message from Piers, with a picture attached, and inwardly Chris groaned. It was 100% going to be a picture of a new jeep or a motorbike, as ever since they got new funding for vehicles Piers had kept sending Chris pictures of whatever new deathtrap he was adamant they needed to get. 

Yet it was bound to be better than the meeting, even if it was the twentieth photo of what looked almost identical cars. So Chris clicked the message open.

Promptly, he almost swallowed his tongue. 

Lightning fast Chris blacked the screen of his phone, glancing around to make sure no one else saw the photo. His heart was beating madly, and once he was positive that no one was paying him any attention he carefully opened the message again underneath the table’s edge, to make sure no one would see. 

It wasn’t a picture of a bike or a car. It was a picture of Piers. And while technically he wasn’t entirely naked in it, he also wasn’t wearing enough to leave anything up for imagination. Underneath the image, in a separate message, were the words “is it gonna take long? might start without you”.

Logically Chris knew that Piers had just texted the wrong number. This was obviously meant for Leon, who Piers had actually been dating for several months up until now, and Piers had... he was... Chris didn’t even want to think about what Piers had been doing to be distracted enough to send such x-rated pictures to the wrong damn number.

No, that was a lie. Chris wanted to think about nothing else. But it wasn’t right to fantasize about someone when they’d just made a mistake, plain and simple.

For a second Chris considered just forwarding the picture and the message to Leon, but he ditched the idea as soon as it had popped into his mind. Maybe he could just pretend like nothing had even happened? He could pretend he’d seen nothing. Surely they could just sweep this under a rug, no problem. 

Only Chris had been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed everyone else filing out of the room, not before Leon was next to him, leaning his bum against the edge of the table to half sit on it. “Something wrong?” he asked, a touch amused as he looked at Chris. “You checked out somewhere like fifteen minutes ago. I don’t think you heard a word.”

“I...“ Chris grimaced. Of course Leon had noticed. Leon noticed everything. Again he went through a quick internal debate on whether to say anything or not, but then just sighed. “Here.“ He unlocked his phone again, opened the messages, and turned the screen towards Leon. 

Leon’s eyes shot wide open and he stared for a good five seconds. Chris was already getting a little antsy that he’d be offended or annoyed, but then Leon simply burst out laughing. “Okay that’s... a Freudian slip if I ever saw one.”

At that, Chris frowned. “What?”

“That he accidentally sent it to you?“ Leon looked at him as if he was being a bit slow on the uptake. As if that was an explanation at all. The only thing it did was make Chris even more confused. 

“I seriously don’t know what you’re even trying to tell me,“ Chris said. Only then he realized he was still holding up the phone and he quickly lowered it, locking the screen. 

"He really hasn’t even hinted at anything?” Leon asked, but when Chris grunted at him as response he held up his hands in surrender and laughed. “Okay okay. So. We’ve been thinking about trying something... more experimental, for us. And we’ve been wondering if you might be interested.“ He looked at Chris, and when he realized he needed to spell it out literally he added. “Would you care to join us? In bed. ...for starters.“

It sounded like a wet dream come true, but Chris didn’t say that out loud. Instead he blurted out a confused, “Me? Why me?”

Leon scoffed. “Have you recently looked in a mirror? Plus c’mon. You’re a great guy and we both like you, so. What’s the downside? Unless you’re secretly seeing someone?”

“No, no,” Chris hurried to deny. “I’m. I’d.“ He paused, staring at Leon for a moment. He thought about the picture on his phone, thought about all the things he’d wanted to do to both Leon and Piers, and how now the door was being held open for him. “I’m in,” he finished helplessly. 

Immediately Leon grinned. “Awesome.” He pushed himself off the desk, nodding towards the door. “We’re taking your car.” He barely waited for Chris to catch up with him, as he headed down the corridor. As he walked he pulled out his own phone, his voice a little too cheerful as the call was picked up. “Hey babe,” he greeted, immediately followed by, “should I be jealous that you’re basically sending dick pics to Chris?”

Even a few steps behind Leon, Chris could hear Piers’ shocked “I sent what to whom!?” through the line. 

Leon laughed. “Relax. I’m bringing him home with me.” There was a pause, Piers saying something that made Leon laugh again, low and pleased. “Yeah, I think he’d probably like that.” He glanced at Chris and winked, even though he was still addressing Piers as he went on. “Maybe you can send him another picture? Cool. See you soon.”

Leon had barely pocketed his phone when Chris’ phone already chimed, signaling another message. 

Chris almost dropped his phone in his haste to open that picture. 

[topsytervy]

“You could join the mob.”

Blurb: Before Rafe joined the mob, you told him to find his own family

Word Count: 3,675

Warnings: Canon Rafe for most of it (ew i know), mentions of drugs, mentions of murder, swearing, like one sexual innuendo if you can call it that, proofread but poorly, i think thats it.

The blurb sucks. The title sucks. I truly didn’t know what to call this so you’re just going to have to read it to even get the context. This was also edited and posted after I took 2 advil PMs because we didn’t have regular advil and my wisdom teeth are starting to come in which means I am in pain and can hardly think straight. So, enjoy :)

~~~~~~~

You were a pogue through and through, there was no doubt about it. However, you didn’t agree with the whole kooks vs. pogues thing. Your philosophy was to be nice to everyone because, for starters, it was a good thing to do and the other reason was that you never know what someone is going through. 

And because of your philosophy, you were nice to everyone. 

“God, it must be nice.” Pope sighed, head resting in his hand as he looked out the window of the little cafe the two of you were sitting in and over the sea of kooks that seemed to be out and about today.

“What?” You asked, looking at the boy next to you.

“They don’t have to worry about scrambling for a full-ride scholarship. Hell, I bet they barely have to worry about getting a scholarship period.” He told you, glancing your way.

You slung an arm around your best friend and gave him a squeeze, hoping that would help ease his worries. You knew how much that merit scholarship meant to him, and now it was probably gone.

The chime that signaled the door opening sounded through the little cafe and you both turned to look at the door. Rafe Cameron came sauntering in, looking burned out. 

You immediately looked back to Pope, who had cast his gaze down and clenched his jaw. Ever since Sarah and John B disappeared, the Pogues have been more on edge around him. Pope usually avoided his gaze or glared right at him, it depended on the day, Kie was always glaring at him and even managed to get her dad to ban him from The Wreck, and you always had to keep JJ from walking up to him and beating his ass, whether it be holding his arm or physically sitting on the blond.

Or pulling out the saddest face you could, that’s what usually kept him from running up to Rafe Cameron and beating him bloody.

Rafe looked in your direction and you shot him a small smile, him sending you one back before continuing towards the counter.

“How you can still be nice to that psychopath after what he did is beyond me,” Pope spoke, pulling your gaze away from the oldest Cameron.

You shrugged before looking at your watch.

“Oh, shit. I gotta dash. I made plans with Wheezie to take her to the mainland today. I’ll see you later, Pope.” You said, giving him a quick peck on the cheek as you stood up.

“Text me when you get home!” He called after you.

You responded with a thumbs-up as you walked out of the cafe.

Within twenty minutes, you were at Tanneyhill, ditching your bike on their front lawn even though Rose might have a fit about it. You knocked on the door and Wheezie answered, smiling when she saw you.

You started hanging out with the girl once Shoupe had said that they hadn’t found John B and Sarah. Wheezie had lost a sister, and you had lost a friend, so you felt that you should check in on her the next day. Ever since then, you’ve been making time at least twice a week to hang out with her.

She may have been a snitch, but she was 13 and deserved to have someone in her corner.

“Hey, Wheezie.” You greeted, a smile forming on your lips.

“Hey, Y/N. Change of plans. I have to stay home and babysit Rafe while mom and dad are gone.”

“He’s 19. I’m pretty sure he can take care of himself.” You told her. 

.

“They’re scared he’s going to throw a party or do something stupid like that. I mean, it’s Rafe.” She rolled her eyes, stepping aside to let me in. 

“Fair point. We can stay here and watch a show or play mariokart or something.” You suggested.

“I’m down for any of those.”

Wheezie went to close the door, but a hand stopped it, pushing it back open. Rafe waltzed in and past his sister, not even paying her a glance before heading up to his room.

“He’s been like that ever since that day. All he does is go into his room and stay there.” You looked at Wheezie, who had a sad look plastered on her face.

You bumped her with your hip and smiled. “Come on. Let’s see what you got at Mario Party.” 

*****

Two games of Mario Party later, you were finally on your way home. 

“How about we go to the mainland on Saturday?” Wheezie suggested as you walked towards her bedroom door.

“Sounds great. Maybe I can convince JJ to come with us and we can force him to try on a bunch of suits.” You winked at her before walking out of her room, closing the door after you left.

You were about to walk down the stairs before you stopped and turned back around, walking down the hall towards Rafe’s room. You knocked twice before entering, not really giving a damn about what he was doing.

His head shot towards his door and you walked over to him, noticing the bong in his hands. 

“Excuse you?” He raised an eyebrow.

“You know, you’re a pretty shit brother. I know siblings don’t get along and shit like that but usually, deep down, they have those moments where they care about their siblings and want to be there for them. Instead of being there for Wheezie and comforting her and shit, your in here, smoking weed. I get you didn’t like Sarah, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be acting like anything bad has happened. Wheezie needs her brother right now, whether or not you think she does. Hell, whether or not she thinks she does. You two need each other. Stop getting high for once and be there for her.” You ranted.

Rafe put his bong down on the nightstand and stood up, pointing at you. 

“Don’t you ever, ever, tell me what I need and need not do.” 

“Well, someone needs to tell you and give you a wake-up call or you’ll end up burning all your bridges.” You shot back before turning on your heel and walking out.

You walked out of the house and grabbed your bike, hopping on and beginning your journey home, feeling satisfied with what you said. 

When you got back to The Cut and dumped your bike on your front lawn, you texted Pope that you made it back home in one piece. He responded with a paragraph of why you shouldn’t be biking at night and you responded with an eye roll emoji and a yes dad.

You stepped into your empty house and walked into your room, changing into pajamas before climbing into bed, sleep taking over once your head hit your pillow.

****

It was 1 am and Rafe couldn’t sleep. Your brief speech kept replaying in his head and it was getting annoying. He half hoped that his high would make it stop, but it didn’t. He groaned, kicking off his blankets and grabbing his keys. He needed something stronger than weed to get you and that rant out of his head.

He refused to believe everything you said, yet there was one part of his brain that knew you were telling him the truth. 

He showed up to Barry’s about half an hour later, money in hand, walking past the people lying about. And it was three lines later when he asked Barry where you lived.

Barry shot him a look. “Why do you want to know, country club?”

Barry was suspicious and unaware of what Rafe’s intentions were with you. If Rafe asked where JJ lived, he would’ve told the boy no problem, but this was you we were talking about. You often dropped off desserts at Barry’s place and asked him if he needed any food since there were leftovers in the fridge. You’ve been doing that since you were 10 and Barry practically thought of you as a sister because of your kindness towards him, despite him being a drug-dealing asshole who hated your friends.

“I just need to talk to her.”

Barry raised an eyebrow, waiting for some more information, but it never came.

“Just need to talk, huh? Since when are you a talker and not a fighter? How do I know you’re not going to wrap your hand around her neck until she stops breathing?” Barry asked.

“Are you gonna give me her address or not?” Rafe huffed.

“I’m not. Safe travels home.” Barry’s gaze was steady and Rafe shook his head, heading towards the door. 

When he got outside, he found someone conscious and asked where you lived, this time getting an answer. He thanked him with a 20 and got on his bike, heading towards your house.

*****

A knock at the door startled you awake. You groaned, staying in your bed, hoping that whoever it was would just go away. But the knocking continued and you slowly got up, grabbing your phone and the old baseball bat your dad had in the hall closet. Just in case, ya know.

You unlocked the front door and swung it open, lifting the bat as you did.

“Whoa there, slugger. I just wanna talk.” Rafe held his hands up, a smirk on his face.

“How did you find out where I lived?” You asked, keeping the fear out of your voice.

“I have my sources.” 

“I’ll text Pope and he and his dad will be here in 15 minutes tops.” You threatened.

“Oh wow. I’m shaking.” He deadpanned, pushing past you and entering your home.

“Cute place. It’s homey.” He commented.

“I’m telling you, Rafe, you need to go.” You told him.

“Oh my god. Do you ever shut up?”    

“Last time. Get the hell out of my house.” 

“Oh, tacos. Looks good.” 

“That’s it. I’m calling Pope.”

You went to unlock your phone, but Rafe walked over and grabbed your wrist, attempting to pry the phone out of your hands.

“Let go of me!” You shouted.

Rafe wrestled your phone out of your hands before pocketing it and pulling out your kitchen chair, shoving you into it.

“Sit right there. We’re going to have a civil conversation like adults.” He told you.

You tightened your grip on the bat, thinking about how if you hit him hard enough, you could definitely give him a concussion and have a good head.

“All we’re gonna do, Y/N, is talk. You don’t need a weapon.” He told you, noticing your grip on the bat.

“How do I know you don’t have one?” You asked.

“What? You wanna frisk me?” He widened his stance and spread out his arms.

You looked into his eyes and noticed the redness in them. You sighed and stood up, grabbing Rafe’s arm and sitting him down where you were sitting a second ago.

“Want a taco?” You sighed.

“Please.”

*****

That night, you saw a different side of Rafe. The side of a caring brother who was hurt by the fact that you called him a shit brother. He genuinely wanted to be there for Wheezie, he just didn’t know how to. He was detached from his family and he was constantly trying to appease his father; he didn’t see the point in comforting Wheezie. After all, she had Rose and Ward. 

And you.

For the following weeks, whenever you went over to Tanneyhill, Wheezie always had something positive to say about Rafe. One day, she told you how he took her over to the mainland for a weekend. 

Rafe was doing good. He ran into you at a kegger one night and quickly told you how he hadn’t touched coke since that night he showed up at your house. You shot him a smile and an “I’m so proud of you,” before Kiara pulled you away from the boy. 

And then one night, about a month and a half later,  after JJ had left and your mom went to work, there was a knock at your door. You quickly rinsed the last dish of any soap and put it in the drying rack, grabbing a hand towel to dry your hands.

You opened the door and saw a red-eyed Rafe, a look of shame on his face.

“Rafe,” You said, taking in his appearance.

“I didn’t know where else to go, Y/N,” Rafe whispered, running a hand through his already messed up hair. 

“Rafe. What happened?” You asked, grabbing his arm and pulling him inside.

You threw the hand towel onto the table as Rafe sat down on the couch.

“I fucked up. I was doing so well and I fucked up.” He mumbled, tears falling down his cheeks.

“Okay. Okay. Why don’t you break down what happened for me?” You crouched down so you could look into his eyes.

“Dad...dad sent me to go get a new tv stand for the living room and so I did.” He started.

“But…” you prodded, nodding for him to continue.

“Dad flipped shit cause I picked up the wrong one even though he didn’t tell me to get a specific one. He started going off on how I fuck up the smallest things and how he wishes…” Rafe trailed off, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes.

“What, Rafe?”  you placed a hand on his knee.

Rafe looked at you, sadness in his eyes. “How he wishes it was me on that boat instead of Sarah.”

Your mouth parted slightly and you immediately stood up, wrapping your arms around him. That was the stupidest thing to get mad at your child about and that was the most hurtful thing you could say to your child. 

Rafe’s arms found his way around you as he cried into your shoulder. He wasn’t used to this comfort and affection but he wished he was.

“I was doing so good and then that happened. I did the first thing I could think of which was go to Barry’s.” He croaked.

“It’s okay,” you reassured him, “it’s going to be tough getting sober. I’m proud of you for going as long as you did before relapsing.”

“Can I stay here tonight?” Rafe asked.

You nodded. “Of course.” 

You heated some leftover soup up for him and handed it to him before heading back into the kitchen to prepare some hot cocoa.

“Thank you.” You heard him say.

“No problem.” You responded as you grabbed two mugs and placed them on the counter.

It was quiet while you made the hot cocoa, trying to think of how to bring up the fact of him getting away from his dad permanently.

Rafe took off his shoes and put his now empty bowl onto the coffee table before putting his feet up onto the couch. You handed him his mug, and he gave a weak smile as he took it. You sat down next to him and took a drink of your cocoa before deciding to just dive right in.

“You could just cut them out of your life. You know, Rose and Ward.” You mumbled.

“It’s not that easy.” He responded.

“I know it’s not but I’m just saying, you could find a group of people who feel like your family.” You suggested turning your body towards him.

Rafe raised an eyebrow, not understanding what you were talking about.

“Like, take me and The Pogues for example. None of us are related, yet we’re like siblings.” You thought about Pope’s crush on Kie and made a little face. “Maybe not siblings since siblings don’t mack on each other, but you know what I mean. We’re like a family.”

“And where do you reckon I’ll find some people who are like family to me?” He asked, genuinely curious as to what you were going to say.

“Well, you’ve got Kelce, Topper, and...Barry?” You glanced at Rafe, you grimaced as you said the last name.

Rafe shot you a look and you sighed. “Or you could say fuck it and join the mob.” You laughed.

Rafe chuckled a little bit. “I guess I could.”

*****

*5 Years later*

“You mean to tell me,” Rafe began, “that you had one job, one god damn job that a child could do, and you fucked it up?”

“Rafe, I don’t think a child could kill someone,” Zeke said and Rafe shot him a look.

“Depends on the child,” Rafe responded before turning his attention back to the problem at hand. “Well, you better find this witness and make sure his mouth stays shut. I don’t care if you kill him or send him to Timbuktu, make sure he doesn’t squeal or you’ll be the one squealing.” 

The guy nodded before scurrying off.

 Rafe looked between some of the guys before sighing. “Well, go on. You just heard me say he botched a job. Go make sure he doesn’t fuck up this one.”

They nodded before following after the guy.

"Zeke, can you-"

"Already on it," Zeke said as he stood up and walked out the door.

Rafe rubbed his forehead with his hand. "Why do I always get the incompetent ones?" He asked himself. 

"I don't know but that incompetent one guarding the door almost got scalding hot cocoa dumped on him cause he asked if I was your booty call and then when I told him we were dating he laughed in my face." Rafe looked up, seeing you standing there with two to-go cups of cocoa in your hands.

Rafe screwed his eyes shut. "That would be Dennis." He sighed.

"Well, Dennis is lucky that Zeke walked out and told him I was good to go in or I would've made sure that face of his had second degree burns considering the temperature of these beverages." You told him as you walked over to your boyfriend.

He tugged you onto his lap gently before he took his cup. "Fired up today are we?" He asked.

"Do you ever sit there and wonder how the hell misogynistic assholes got hired by schools or any business?" You looked at Rafe.

"I can’t say I do because I don’t have to deal with that." He answered honestly. 

"Lucky bastard." You muttered, blowing on your drink.

"Who was being mean to you today babydoll?" 

"I don’t even wanna talk about it. I'll just get heated again." You stated, taking a small sip.

Rafe smiled and kissed the top of your head.

"Don't get jealous Y/N, but this little situation right here reminds of something." Rafe said.

"Oh? And who might this something be?" You asked.

Rafe bit his lip. "I don't know if I wanna rehash it fully." 

"Were they that bad?" 

"No. But I was." He breathed out as he took a sip of his own cocoa.

"Rafe...you're an actual mob boss right now in your life. You have hitmen and a bunch of other illegal shit probably that I don’t know about." You shot him a look.

"Yeah but back then I was, dare I say, worse."

If you were being honest, you preferred this Rafe over the Rafe who was 19 and on your doorstep after doing lines when his sister and her boyfriend were missing. 

You played with his hair and hummed.

"I know you don’t like talking about it but maybe you should." You whispered.

Rafe smiled lightly. "You remind me of a girl who took care of me once or twice." 

You bit back a smile. "When you say took care of you, are you talking sexually or not?" 

"Oh my god. And you say I have a dirty mind. No. Not sexually. She was 16 at the time. I don't mess with that. That shits not cool." Rafe told you.

You laughed a little and waited for him to continue.

"I...I had a relapse with coke after a dumb fight with Ward and...I showed up at her place. She was there for me and served me spaghetti and hot cocoa. Suggested I find people who are like family to me. I didn't really see her after that. If it wasn't for her, I don't think I'd be here." He reminisced. 

"Okay first of all," you started, "it wasn't spaghetti. It was soup. Second of all, I was joking about the whole 'join the mob' thing." You told him.

Rafe looked at you long and hard before widening his eyes.

"Holy shit. It was you." He mumbled. 

You nodded your head.

"Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?" He practically yelled.

"I wanted to see how long it would take. It’s been two years since you moved next door to me and about eight months since we started dating. I’m genuinely surprised it took you this long. I haven’t changed that much and I thought that the name would at least ring something in that brain of yours. You really blocked out what happened when you were nineteen, huh?" You informed him.

"Uh yeah. I killed a cop and had an addiction. Kind of don't wanna remember that." Rafe stated.

"Now you don’t do coke and you have guys to kill people for you." You said as you booped his nose.

"Damn right." He grinned, bringing his lips to yours. 

You smiled against his lips before pulling away after a minute.

"I'm quite happy you didn’t try to make a relationship blossom between us back then." You declared, thinking about how easy it would've been for him to try and take advantage of the situation and your hospitality. 

"You were a minor. I was old enough to vote. 3 year age difference between us now isn’t a big deal cause we're both adults. Back then though? No way was I going to try anything. If you were 18 at the time, I might’ve. But not with you being 16. That just…it leaves a bad taste in my mouth." Rafe grimaced at the thought.

"What a gentleman." 

"No. Just common sense."

~~~~~~~

taglist: @prejudic3 @void-sadie @drewswannabegirl @oleariaux @outerbanx96 @popcrone818 @diverrdown @teenagekook @acvross-the-universe @poguemackin

[lcbotomy]

starter for @crimefightr​

That glorious glowing bat-symbol tore through the clouds, the smog of Gotham creating the perfect canvas to cast its rays. The only known way to contact The Batman. Seems like it was the tried and true method that had worked for what felt like decades. This particular night however, would prove to be anything but status-quo. There was no commissioner waiting for Bruce when he arrived, no hard-boiled detective to explain that Joker had blown up another hospital. This was something else...something extraterrestrial. The massive hovering space-bike was a dead giveaway. Lobo was in town, and he had used the bat-signal.

“Howdy-doody, Bat-fink! Betcha missed yer ol’ pal Lobo, eh? Hope ya don’t mind, figger’d this would be easier than tryin ta track ya.” Flame was brought to the tip of his cigar, making the tip glow as it was lit. “Also, I never got yer number, which makes it a real pain n’ the taint. Yer harder ta contact than aliens, trust me I’d know.” Lobo would waltz over to the brooding hero, standing taller. Didn’t look like Batman was intimidated.

“On ta brass-fraggin’-tax then. Much as it pains me ta say this, I need yer help.”

[bewaretheidesofmarchyall]

Soulmate Shenanigans Four: A New Shenanigan

I think you know what’s happening. If not, parts one, two, and three are here.

Basically, there were prompts for Soulmate AUs meant to be done in September. And now I’m doing them.

Midway through October.

Woo!

Prompt #4

There is a trail of color only you can see that marks out where your soulmate has been. 

Warnings for death mentions (less than normal, but still....it’s there)

World Building

Color trails had been around for all of human history.

Gods were invented to explain them, and maybe some of them even existed once.

The truth is, no one knows how they were created or for what purpose, some choosing to blame it on pheromones and some on divine will. 

This is despite all the scientific advancements color trails caused.

After all, Julius Caesar and Cleopatra knew they weren’t meant to be, so they never even tried. Therefore, Caesar never burned the Library Of Alexandria, which changed the course of human history forever.

Now, technology is on the up and up, and things are even more of a cyberpunk dystopia!

The Havens

No matter what happens over the course of human history, people are going to want to take solace in something. Corporations were able to isolate the basic things people seek and create Havens (special centers for the things).

To find Havens, there’s the cyberpunk dystopia version of a wooden signpost that points in different directions. The arms read:

This Way To Feel Safe

This Way To Feel Lucky

This Way To Feel Self-Righteous

This Way To Feel Content

This Way To Feel Beautiful

This Way To Feel Euphoric

This Way To Feel Nothing

Whoever controls a Haven controls the people, not the government. Everyone’s pretty aware of this, including the government, which spends most of their time in the Havens anyway.

Each of the main Havens is trying to become the only one, but it’s really a stalemate, since different people want different things. Their goal is to stop that pesky habit.

Characters

Virgil: Virgil really should be the famous hacker. After all, he’s pretty tech-smart, socially reclusive, and kind of scary.

Sadly, he’s too practical to be the famous hacker. If he was a hacker, he’d just hack stuff instead of leaving an honest-to-god calling card, which will eventually get any hacker caught.

No, Virgil’s just a petty thief in the sky.

He and Janus were trying to buy their way into a Haven, but they’ve gotten more and more expensive as the years have gone by, hence the thievery. Janus runs the scams on the ground while Virgil uses all manners of hovering to scale the buildings no one expects to be scaled.

That was the plan, until Jan went missing.

Virgil assumed that his friend abandoned him as soon as he got enough money for one person, so now he intends to find Janus in whichever Haven he ran off to and give him a piece of his mind.

But now he really needs money. Luckily, he knows where to find it.

He knows for a fact that his soulmate is, in fact, the famous hacker, and he has one hell of a bounty on his head.

Roman: In his defense, he didn’t know he was going to get famous. But he was loving it.

Roman started out coding games with his brother. They had a whole plan for the stories they’d create and tell to the world.

Remus went missing around when Janus did.

Now, Roman’s going to hack into every single Haven until he finds the one that took his brother. 

He’s pulled off a few stunts in the past, leaving his calling card (a diadem) every time, but they were just practice events. His next idea is hacking into the Lucky Haven’s system, but things get a little complicated.

The Actual Plot

Virgil noticed the glowing red trail at the first hacking site, but he assumed it was just a coincidence. But when the ground glowed red at the next five sites as well, he realized he’d struck gold.

All he had to do was follow the trail and turn in his soulmate, and he’d be able to find his friend.

He saw the red glow on the top of the skyscraper across from the Lucky Haven, and hovered to where his soulmate was. 

Meanwhile, Roman was furiously crashing through firewalls when he saw a guy hover up to the roof. He was going to run when he saw that his footsteps stained the roof violet.

He’d found his soulmate!!

Virgil had expected a lot of things. He expected a fight, he expected a chase scene. He definitely didn’t expect the 6th most wanted hacker to greet him like he’d known him for ages and flirt.

And, to be honest, he didn’t expect him to be this cute.

Roman was convinced that, if someone was his soulmate, their motives had to be pure. So, he’s treating this entire situation like a first date while Virgil tries awkwardly to mention the fact that he was trying to turn him in for a bounty, which is an interesting conversation starter.

Over the course of the conversation, Virgil finds out that Remus disappeared around the same time as Janus, as well as what exactly Roman’s been doing with that keyboard. He puts a few things together, and realizes that there’s a chance that they’re in the same place.

Virgil decides that he’ll help Roman, for now.

Unfortunately for him, that’s when he accidentally mentions the whole “turning him in for a bounty” thing, and Roman bolts.

It’s hard to run from someone who can see your footsteps, but not impossible. If you take an elevator, it’s impossible to tell what floor you get off on, and if you steal a bike, you’re home free.

Roman bikes as far away as he can, while Virgil curses at himself.

Where Have Janus And Remus Been This Whole Time?

Experimenting on people against their will is illegal. No one, especially a respected corporation, would ever do such a thing!

The Havens merely have an Anti-Non-Involuntary Focus Group, which is perfectly legal.

It’s like a normal focus group, but the participant’s leave times are postponed indefinitely.

Janus and Remus quickly became close friends because they’d been put in a room together once in the hopes that at least one of them would kill the other. No such luck. The two of them went on to do Crimes together, because if they weren’t going to be released from the focus group they’d make the focus group wish they were gone.

Back To The Actual Plot

Virgil searched for Roman, trying to find a way to say “hey, I was totally going to turn you in, but I changed my mind” that would actually convince him. So far, it didn’t work at all, but he kept trying.

Meanwhile, Roman planned to hack into the Self-Righteous Haven. He found yet another skyscraper, checking far and wide for violet glows. He pretended that he wasn’t thinking about Virgil, but...he was clearly thinking about Virgil.

He managed to bring down a significant portion of the Self-Righteous computer system and leave his diadem calling card, but here’s the thing about the Haven of the Self-Righteous:

They’re always on the lookout for someone to hate, and they carry plenty of weapons to get rid of them when they find them.

Roman found himself cornered on that roof, surrounded by sharp smiles and even sharper blades. He managed to fend some off, but eight against one is too tall of an order, even for a guy who knows how to use a sword.

At the last second, he heard Virgil call out to him. He was hovering along the edge of the building, and held out his arm.

Roman took it, and had the most terrifying few minutes of his life on the way down, clinging to Virgil like a young koala and screaming.

After they got their bearings and went on the run together for a little while, Virgil explained his plan.

Now that he had a feeling that Janus hadn’t left on purpose, he reexamined that day in a different light. Roman said that Remus had disappeared in a certain area, and that was around where Jan was at the time.

In fact, that block was a hotbed for mysterious disappearances. So, Virgil was going to get kidnapped!

Roman greeted this suggestion with a calm, “What the actual fuck, Virgil”

Virgil said that he was going to find Janus and Remus, then send up a signal. When the signal went off, Roman would hack into the doors and release him from...wherever.

It takes some convincing, as they’d been on the run together for weeks and gotten kind of attached, but the plan went into motion.

Virgil went and got himself kidnapped, but the plan went south fast when he was brought through physical, metal, non-electronic doors.

Non-hackable doors.

He was screwed.

Virgil found Remus first, because Remus is extremely hard to miss (can’t miss someone who’s literally lighting people’s feet aflame at random), and then got a wholesome reunion with Janus.

PRISON ANTI-NON-INVOLUNTARY FOCUS GROUP BREAK

The three of them and Roman find a clever way to escape the focus group. What is the clever way? Ask the me who actually writes the fic, not the me who’s writing this instead of doing homework she really needs to do.

The four of them later team up to weaken each and every Haven, travelling through a regular Dante’s Inferno that gets to call itself paradise because of good marketing.

They travel to those that get simulated safety, and luck, and self-righteousness, and contentness, and beauty, and euphoria, and emptiness

Of course, rebellions never rely on one or four people. There are a thousand small acts, thousands of straws pouring upon the camel’s back. But it cannot be denied that a hacker and a petty thief, alongside a scam artist and an agent of chaos, left a mark on the world, besides the glowing ones only they could see.

And when the two finally got around to a kiss, they could see their own reflection softly glow for weeks.

Now I need to do my homework