#so decided to remove em but yeah 14 of them which is 14 times being injected

[nocturnal-birb]

Imagine being given anesthesia 14 times on your fingers

..yeah it was an experience so to say

[solynaceawrites]

Promise Me Forever [2]

Fandom: Devil May Cry Characters: Dante, Lirael Thorne (OC) Tags: Slow Burn, Romance, Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe, First Time, Friends to Lovers Chapters: 2/14 co-written by @lickitysplitfic​ Summary: An old, long-forgotten promise between gods comes back to haunt Dante when it deposits an unfamiliar woman on his door. Claiming to be the descendant of Ler, she says that they’re meant to fulfill the oath made by Sparda centuries ago, and all he can do is watch as she turns his life upside down. Yet when her parents come knocking, demanding the oath be fulfilled, he’s forced to choose: return to the bachelor ways he loved so much, or give in to the emotions brewing between him.

Welcome to part two of Promise Me Forever! I missed the upload date yesterday (damn you for being so fun, Spyro . . .), so I hope you’ll pardon my being late. As always, we hope you enjoy, and please don’t hesitate to let us know if you do, whether through comments, kudos, or sending us a private message!

»»————-　⚜　————-««

The sun is down and the streetlights are on when Dante walks into the Devil May Cry, nearly colliding with Lir who is just on the other side of the door. "Stop doing that!" he shouts, reaching out on reflex to grab her elbow to keep her from falling.

"You're back!" she cries, looking up at him in surprise.

"Yeah," he sighs. He frowns at her flushed face and the trash bag in her hand. "What are you doing?"

"Cleaning." She heaves the trash bag up, almost as big as she is, and pushes it at him. "Take this out, would you?"

Dante holds up his hands. "Woah, wait, what are you doing? Didn't I tell you not to touch my stuff?"

Lir glares at him, giving him a look that would be intimidating if she wasn't a head shorter than him. "I'm not touching your stuff," she snaps. "I'm cleaning your mess. Did you know you even had towels?"

He frowns and looks around. The lights are on, and the shop looks . . . different. The floors are sparkling, the piles of containers and papers on his desk are gone, the boots and clothing items in piles have been removed, and there is a scent of clean in the air. "You what?"

"I cleaned. The kitchen and the office and that thing you called a bathroom." Lir holds up the trash bag again. "Now take this outside."

Momentarily at a loss for words—a rarity for him, to be certain—he takes it from her and turns around, carting it easily to the cans in front of the building. Not only is each one full of things he's been neglecting to throw away, but it's all been sorted, as well, the recycling tucked neatly into its respective bins, glass separated from paper, which has been separated from plastic. Not sure what to make of it, Dante drops the new addition into the least full can and heads back into the shop.

He finds Lir sitting on the floor, her knees tucked beneath her as she works on scrubbing the baseboards, and he pauses to take her in. She's cute, hell, she's gorgeous, but she's also young. There's now way she's any older than twenty, maybe twenty-five if he's being generous, and he scratches the stubble on his cheek with a sigh as she leans over, her skirt clinging to her backside. I was trained in the arts of pleasure.

Pleasure. Right.

"There a reason you did all of this?" Dante asks. She looks at him, and he's struck, like he was the first time he saw her, by the bright amber of her eyes, not unlike the whiskey sitting in polished bottles on the shelves. "Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful. Just seems like you could have found something else to do."

Lir huffs, not quite a laugh, as she wipes her forearm on her brow. "Do what? I wasn't cooking in that kitchen. No way I was using that bathroom." Dante rolls his eyes as she gestures towards the steps. "I didn't get much done upstairs yet, but I did put all the bedding in the washing machine. Should be done soon."

"I have a washing machine?" She frowns at him until she realizes he is kidding, and Dante smirks when she makes a face.

"Very funny." She drops her sponge into a bucket, standing and stretching her back. "Are you hungry?"

"Uh, I guess?" Dante shrugs and stashes his guitar case, pausing to rub his fingers along the polished wood of his desk. "I was going to order a pizza."

Lir laughs behind him. "You can't eat that junk. Come on, I've made you something."

Curious, Dante follows her into the kitchen, his mouth dropping open when he enters. It is sparkling, the counters and floors and sink shining, the table washed, the stove cleaned of its stains. There is an amazing smell coming from the oven, and it is almost enough to distract him from watching as Lir bends over to open the oven door. He tilts his head to admire her backside as she reaches in, quickly straightening when she places something on the top and turns around. "Sit down," she smiles sweetly.

He complies, but watches her carefully. "It's not poison, is it?" he asks.

"No," Lir laughs.

He watches in surprise as she moves around, pulling a knife from one drawer, a spatula from another, a plate from a cabinet overhead. "I have oven mitts?" Dante says in surprise, and Lir chuckles as she places a plate in front of him.

"There you are," she says, her voice sweet. Dante looks at her in shock, then back down at the plate, where a huge piece of lasagna sits, steaming hot and covered in perfectly golden layers of cheese. "Much better than a yucky old pizza, isn't it?"

He swallows, his mouth suddenly watering as his stomach growls, still too astonished to argue her pizza comments. Lir hands him silverware and moves to get her own plate. She returns to the table and sits across from him, a smaller piece on her own plate, and she gestures to him as she lays a napkin on her lap. "Go on," she laughs. "Try it."

She doesn't have to tell him twice. Trying to have some semblance of table manners, he uses the knife to cut a bite-sized portion of the lasagna and plops it in his mouth, uncaring of how it singes his tongue. It tastes absolutely divine, the sauce rich, the cheese melted to a cream, the meat cooked to perfection, the noodles firm, and he quickly swallows the first bite and dives in for another. Across from him, Lir smiles as she starts on her own, and he watches her take dainty, measured bites.

"Gotta tell you," Dante says, taking a swig of the beer she'd placed at his elbow, "you're a better cook than I gave you credit for."

She perks up at that, and it almost hurts him how much such a simple bit of praise from him means to her. "I'm glad you're enjoying it," she replies, the faint lilt to her voice soft and sweet. "I wasn't entirely certain what to make for you, but I thought that this was similar enough to pizza that you might find it to your tastes."

He stuffs another huge forkful in his mouth, nodding as he swallows. "It's great. Really." Lir smiles and ducks her face, taking her own much smaller bite.

She sighs as she chews, reaching for a glass of water as he eats. "I'm surprised I had all the ingredients," he remarks. "I had no idea I had lasagna noodles!"

"Oh, I made them," she says as she blows on another bite.

Dante nearly chokes. "You made lasagna noodles? From scratch?"

Lir shrugs. "It's just some flour and eggs." She meets his gaze, chuckling behind her hand. "What, is it hard?"

His surprise turns to suspicion again. "Where did you learn to do all this?"

"I told you, I was raised and trained to marry the son of Sparda." Dante winces, hearing it said out loud again making him feel ridiculous. "Besides, every adult on the planet knows how to cook and clean," she says quickly. "Except you, perhaps."

He considers that, and her. It's hard to picture her as either a thief or an assassin; she's damn near tiny, especially next to him, and she'd been upfront about knowing magic, which wouldn't be the smartest move to make if she meant him harm. And her hands are smooth, free of calluses or any other sign that she's ever held a weapon. "Never had time to learn, I guess," he replies.

Dante watches the gears churning behind her eyes. Another mark against her in terms of being sent to fight him: her face is an open book, her emotions displayed without any attempt to conceal them. "I see," she says. "Well, I can make other meals for you, if you wish. And if you tell me what sort of things you don't like, I can avoid using them as ingredients."

"Olives."

"Olives?"

"Hate 'em." He takes another drink of beer. "Pizza place I usually order from knows I don't like 'em, so they'll put 'em on whatever I ask for if I owe 'em money. Which is more often than not."

"I see." She stands and takes her empty plate to the sink. "Anything else?"

"I like strawberries," he offers.

Lir smiles over at him. "So do I."

The sweetness makes him almost uncomfortable, and he finishes his meal in silence as he watches her. Lir seems very much at home in his kitchen, washing the plate and utensils, finding some tinfoil to cover the leftovers before sliding the pan into the refrigerator, then running some water and soap in the sink to wipe down the stove. He doesn't ever remember anyone acting like this—even his adoptive mother never was so domestic, as they were on the move all the time—and he can't really remember much about Eva than a few specific memories. And the women in his life now, Lady and Trish specifically, wouldn't clean his kitchen for a million dollars. He makes a mental note to ask Nero if Kyrie is like this, betting she might be.

It's . . . nice, he decides.

"All done?" she asks, moving to take his plate.

"I'll do it," Dante insists, standing and sliding around her to take the plate to the sink. Quickly he washes it up and deposits it into the dish rack as Lir wipes the table behind him.

When he is done, she is gone, and he finds her in the laundry room off the side of the kitchen, pulling sheets out of the dryer. "Need any help?" he asks from the doorway.

"It's alright." She gives him one of those smiles again, like she's happy just to be around him, and he doesn't know what to make of it. "Why don't you take a shower? There are fresh towels in the bathroom, and I found some shampoos tucked under the vanity."

Lir's expression is bright, but there is something that sits uneasy, so he decides on a little experiment. Leaning one arm up on the doorway, he grins and says, "Want to join me?"

The shock on her face is almost worth it, as is the red that stains her cheeks. "I, uh . . . we aren't married yet," she stammers.

"Did they not teach you how to shower in your pleasure class?" he teases.

She shoots him a look, and he sees a bit of the fire from earlier. "No," she answers sharply. "I was taught how to behave properly."

Dante snorts. Lir tries to step around him, but he does not budge, giving her a sultry look. "You're here to please me, right? Isn't that what you said?"

"Yes, but—"

"You made me dinner. Cleaned my place. I'd love to take you upstairs," he says, low and teasing.

Lir looks almost startled. "Are you being serious?" she hisses.

Dante shrugs. "I mean, like you said, we're not married, and yet you're doing all the other stuff."

"I thought if I showed you—" 

She cuts herself off, and Dante raises his brows. "Go ahead," he taunts her. "Finish your thought."

Her shoulders slump. "I thought if I showed you that I could do those things, you'd want to keep me. And I . . . The cooking lessons weren't exactly pleasant, but I enjoyed making that for you."

"I see. Thought you could get one over on me, hm?" Lir's eyes go wide as she shakes her head, but Dante pushes, "Thought if you cooked me something, swept up a bit, swing your ass in my direction that I'd just fall head over heels for you?"

Her jaw tenses, and any guilt he feels for the accusation is canceled by the satisfaction of seeing it hit its mark. "That's it, hm? Thought your pretty smile and some homemade cooking would do the trick? Well guess what, honey. This son of Sparda is smarter than he looks. And I still don't trust you."

"I just wanted to show you that I could be useful," she argues. He cocks a patronizing brow, smiling thinly as he waits for whatever justification she's going to come up with. "I thought if you . . . if you saw that I could help you somehow it would make up for . . . whatever it is about my appearance that you don't like."

Okay, that . . . felt weird. Bad weird, like a punch in his gut that left a puddle of slime in its wake. "It's, uh . . . not your looks, sweetheart," he says. "I just don't like strangers. Strangers are usually trouble."

Lir bows her head. "Women, too," he says. "Not a fan."

There is a pause, and then he watches her brows twitch, then rise almost to her hairline before she looks up at him with a gasp. "Oh! Oh! Is that . . . oh my goodness, I never even considered that!"

She covers her laugh with a hand as Dante frowns. "What?"

"You prefer men. Is that it?" Lir grins at him brightly as she nods. "No wonder you don't want to marry me! It all makes sense now!"

"What? What?" How did this happen, he wonders, watching her eyes light up with mirth. He had wanted to catch her off guard, to figure out what she's actually after, if it's something as simple as whatever promise his father made or more nefarious, and now he's left gaping at her, struggling for words again. "No. No! That's not . . . Where the hell did you come up with that?"

His surprise makes him sound angry, and Dante watches as the laughter on her face dies as quickly as it came, that odd sensation of doing something wrong back in his chest. "You said you aren't a fan of women," Lir says hesitantly.

"The only two I know are hunters," he replies, "and neither of them ever visit me with good news."

"Oh."

He scrambles for something. "Cindy is nice." The words are awful and, he realizes belatedly, the wrong thing to say when she takes a step back. "She's a gal who works at the ice cream counter. But she's pretty ignorant of the stuff I do."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. And Patty. You'll see her around here eventually, not a week goes by without that girl showing up here wanting something."

Her eyes are like saucers and Dante realizes how all this sounds. "Just friends!" he cries, putting up his hands. "But I'm not gay. Not that there's anything wrong with that. But I like ladies. And ladies like me. Just . . . not those ladies."

Lir frowns. "You don't like them or they don't like you?"

"They're . . ." What should he say? Calling Lady and Trish his friends feels too intimate; they all get along, sure, but they don't visit socially, Trish is often gone for months at a time working her own jobs, and Lady only really shows up to give him a job or collect money. "Business partners," he mumbles.

"All of them?"

"Nah. Well, Patty will tell you she is, but what she means is she likes to show up and redecorate my office and bug me about whatever soap opera she's watching." Dante scratches the back of his head. "Look, it's like this: I don't have a clue about this promise my old man is supposed to have made. I don't know you and, quite frankly, you don't know me. And . . ." His mind flickers dimly back to his mother. "Well, having a spouse in my line work is just asking for trouble. It's got nothing to do with your looks or you bein' useful. It's just not a good idea."

"Oh." Lir's eyes fall, as if thinking, and Dante rubs the back of his neck. "I guess I never thought of it like that. I had assumed you would know, it never occurred to me you wouldn't." She breathes a deep sigh and then shrugs. "I'll stay the night, if that's okay. Then tomorrow I'll figure out what to do."

"Yeah, yeah of course." He stands aside as she carries the linens out of the laundry room, trailing after her as she heads for the steps. "Let me get those," Dante insists, grabbing the pile she can barely see over as she climbs up the first one.

"I can do it fine," Lir protests, but he easily scoops them away. She bristles a bit but finally turns and heads upstairs, and Dante follows, trying hard not to stare at her backside and failing miserably.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

Dante doesn't sleep well that night. He rarely does, but he finds himself straining to hear through the walls, wondering what his guest is doing to occupy herself, feeling something akin to guilt every time the hurt look on her face when she said she only wanted to be useful flashes in his thoughts. Those people couldn't have sent him a bitch, could they? Someone he could tear apart without remorse, someone with a body that didn't make his mouth water every time he caught a tease of it beneath their clothes?

Because that's the crux of it. Maybe Lir is untrustworthy, maybe she's lying to him, but he damn near likes her. She's clever, and pretty, and a good cook, and lord only knows how long it's been since his shop looked so clean. He covers his face with his hands, groaning. Would it really be so bad to keep her around?

Yes, because if she got killed, he'd never forgive himself.

Dawn comes with no rest in sight for him. He listens to Lir moving around next door before she heads downstairs, and he stares at the ceiling until the scents of coffee and bacon draw him out of his bed. Shrugging into a pair of sweatpants and deciding to forego a shirt, he follows her, and finds her in the kitchen, humming a little tune as she plates a mountain of scrambled eggs.

A wave of nostalgia washes over him—which is weird, because this is the first morning he's woken up to a woman in his shop, let alone one making him breakfast. The dress she wore yesterday has been traded in for a pair of jeans and a plain white t-shirt, and Dante swallows, admiring how good she looks in normal clothes. There is something that tugs at his heart, too, the smell of the eggs reminding him of his childhood, the little hum making him embarrassed by how much he actually likes it.

"Good morning!" she says brightly, turning and carrying plates to the table. "Did you sleep well?"

He walks to the coffee machine and pours himself a cup of black. "Are you a morning person?" he asks, trying to sound gruff.

"Have to be where I come from." Dante frowns as he blows on the mug, carrying the sugar bowl to the table before settling on a chair. He wonders what exactly that means as she finishes plating the bacon and popping toast from the toaster, then takes the seat across from him.

"How about you?" he asks.

"Hm?" Lir glances up as she begins buttering a slice of toast.

"You sleep okay?"

She smiles to herself as he helps himself to food. "Yes and no. I was tired from the cleaning but sleeping in a city is . . . different. Odd to have so many lights and noises outside my window."

"It's quiet where you live?" He watches her closely, looking for any signs of deception.

But there are none. She tilts her head, taking a bite of her toast and chewing it thoughtfully, and he's struck by the utterly ridiculous urge to tuck the strands of hair at her cheek behind her ear. "I suppose. My home is . . . was on the coast, near the mountains. So there were noises, like rain and the ocean and wildlife, but the city is much louder, more . . . chaotic?"

"Was."

"Hm?"

"You said," he muses, "that your home was on the coast."

Her smile falters. "Well, yes. I told you yesterday that I cannot return there. When I was sent here, it was permanent. Even if you had . . . if we had been married, I wouldn't have been allowed back. Because we're not, I couldn't go home, even if I wanted to. So, was."

"They just chucked you out like that?" he asks.

Lir stiffens for a moment, but then her smile returns as she stands. "Want more coffee?" she asks, breezing back towards the sink and turning on the water to rinse the pan on the stove.

"No, I—"

"After I clean up here I'll head out," she says over him, her voice tight but still dripping in sweetness. "I have a bit of money, so I'll stay at a hotel so I won't be in your hair. I can start looking for a job or something this afternoon."

He rubs his face harshly, cursing under his breath. It's not her fault that she's here, and he doubts she knows anything about surviving outside of whatever compound raised her to be a broodmare for him. "Look," he says, sharper than he intends, "just stay here until Lady calls. Then we'll figure out what to do."

She hesitates before turning off the water. "That's very kind of you."

"Yeah. Well." Not sure what to say, he drains his mug, and Lir is right there with the coffee pot to refill it. He watches her move around the kitchen before going back to his meal, munching thoughtfully. "Won't be all bad, I guess," he says to himself.

After breakfast, Dante starts to wonder. Usually he's not up this early, and the rest of the morning stretches on without much to do. Typically he'd spend the first hour or so of his day in the bathroom, then scavenge around for leftovers before settling in for his afternoon nap. But Lir wanders the shop, hands behind her back as she examines each of his weapons on the wall, making him feel uncomfortable as he sits at his desk and watches her.

She pauses in front of a set of twin scimitars, leaning in to peer curiously at the heads etched into the pommels. "Where do these things come from?" she asks, not turning around, and he frowns.

"Devils," he answers. Lir goes very still, making him laugh. "Relax, they're harmless now. Sometimes, when there's a particularly strong demon, they'll lend me their strength as a weapon I can use. Those two," he stands and makes his way over to her, placing his hand against the small of her back, "are Agni and Rudra. I got them decades ago. Handy guys, if a bit chatty sometimes."

"Is that what you were doing last night?" she asks, leaning in closer to look at the swords. "Fighting devils?"

"No, I, uh . . ." Embarrassed, he clears his throat. "I went to see someone."

"Well, we know it wasn't a girl," one of the swords says, and Lir jumps in surprise, backing up into him.

"Unless he was paying!" the other laughs.

Lir spins on him, her mouth dropped open. "They talked!"

"I told you." To the twins, he mutters, "Zip it."

"But we have a guest!" Agni cries.

"Yes, a guest," Rudra agrees. "We must entertain her."

"How should we do that?"

"Well, we could—"

"I said zip it!" Dante barks. Thankfully they fall silent, though there's an air of reproach, and he returns his attention to Lir. "Like I said, they get chatty. You okay?"

She laughs as she nods. "Yes. It was just a surprise."

Dante snorts, but then he realizes his hand is still on her back and quickly snatches it away. "You can, uh, put the TV on if you want. Or use the computer? Patty set one up a while ago, over there," he says, nodding to where the couch and coffee table are, making a little sitting area. 

Lir nods. "Okay. I don't want to bother you while you're working though."

There is a round of laughter from the two swords on the wall, and Dante growls until they stop abruptly. "No trouble at all," he says through his teeth.

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh S4 Ep 14 Pt1: Rex and Weevils Ultimate Betrayal No One Gave a Damn About

Just finished watching the Superbowl, which I never ever do, and it was VERY confusing and I thought I remembered this sport but I did not. I don’t know what’s happening. I do not understand how Kansas City got that field goal on San Fransisco when their feet never touched the goal line. So, I’m just gonna...change gears completely and wrap up this long post about a VERY complicated anime that came out before some of y’all were born, instead. Today I just really wanted to feel lost.

Last episode, Yugi (the main character of the show, the one this show is named after) hella died, and Rex and Weevil decided to leave the party very, very quickly.

You’d think that the one event (Yugi’s dead) would have to do with the other event (getting the hellllll away), considering how rude and judgy Yami is, but they actually left for cards. They accidentally did a very wise decision in order to do something incredibly stupid and cancel out any wisdom they showed in pedaling as fast as they could possibly pedal away from the reincarnated ghost who just very suddenly achieved full control of a human body.

They accidentally pedaled away from every Mummy movie super villain and somehow ended up with a much more worse villain.

Like I say that this whole season is about Yugi’s crazy commute, but Rex and Weevil’s commute has just been so much more. They are just clinging to whatever vehicle is near them in order to find these legendary cards sitting somewhere in American Soil. They are so ambivalent to all the very real world terrible problems around them because they’re PRETTY SURE they’re gonna get rich. It’s like the Gold Rush but with helicopters.

Also the 49ers never rode tandem bikes, but you know they would’ve if they could’ve.

And for some, weird reason, Rafeal decides not to pick them up under his arms and toss them directly onto an unsuspecting Joey Wheeler like he just did with Yugi. Rafael and Alister decided...nah...I’ll keep these strange small manchildren.

It seems really off brand for Rafael and Alister but maybe they just got too tired to deal with it right now.

Speaking of tired--this horse.

I mean I’ll do the math eventually--not this post but maybe the next one I just did a lot of math trying to remember why the hell it’s 6 points for a goal in football--but this horse that we estimated would take over 20 days to ride to Death Valley just rode all the way back in the same day. Congratulations horse, the strongest force in all of Yugioh, (second to Yugi’s neck, holding that 70 lb necklace at all hours of the day.)

The girls seem to think that everything is OK initially, mostly because Yugi doesn’t really lose games that often, since the list of ways to beat Yugi in a card game up until now didn’t include “trick Yami into murdering the hell out of Yugi Muto.” Crazy that that actually worked, but Yami isn’t that bright.

PS please admire how chubby this horse appears in this scene.

OK I’m glad we all acknowledged the elephant in the room that was a horse last shot.

Also...maybe he didn’t hug her back because she just shoved a very sharp pyramid necklace straight into his small intestines?

(more under the cut)

I’ll spare you Transatlantacism this time.

Tea is concerned but more surprised than straight up angry. An anger which is more honed by Rebecca because Yami just killed her only friend (other than this horse) and possibly her only future husband that would ever put up with her (other than this horse.)

Like it seems kind of rude in the show out of context that everyone took a moment to lay a big dump on Yami Muto, but can you imagine if you straight up killed your twin (by accident but only by like 75% accident, lets be real) and this was your only punishment?

Like getting punched out is just how Yami treats himself every single day, so I don’t think Joey made too much of a difference in the situation. But you know, it’s Yugioh, so getting punched does is somehow the correct answer.

It was very lucky for Yami that Tea was too busy trying to console Rebecca to punch Yami before Joey got to him first because hot damn that would have sent him straight back to Death Valley.

And then I think this next exchange between Duke and Tristan was somewhat lost in translation. Please admire the censorship here. Safe for kids now.

I say this like a joke but have you seen Equinox? I live in the Bay, so trust me. Equinox is absolutely reviving the Great Leviathan. No doubt in my mind.

Anyway, Rafael and Alister hear Rex and Weevil’s plea to join the evil task force and they’re like...

...yeah, I guess you can apply, why not? No need to interview your or anything before we harass Darts with you.

Like Rafael and Alister were completely bonkers children that were driven to insanity by very extreme circumstances, and then there’s Rex and Weevil. They’re just...kind of middling at cards and that’s it.

But sure, yeah, I’m sure they’ll fit right into the completely maniacal card corporate atmosphere here at DartsCorp. I’m sure Rex and Weevil will jump out of a plane on a motorcycle and then do stunts all the way towards Atlantis Island.

Sure.

(course, now that I think of it, they did introduce themselves to Alister and Rafael by accidentally doing a stunt over a canyon onto a helicopter so...maybe they accidentally think Rex and Weevil are cool?)

Which, in hindsight, makes Mai make a hell of a lot more sense because y’all, they should be SO distracted right now, and shouldn’t let anyone in here who isn’t insane or insanely good at cards. But instead they’re like...I guess you have a duel disk, you’ll work. It’s not like there’s a line of people at the door.

Anyway, because the show has to acknowledge that there might be new viewers, they do their best to try and explain this very lengthy Yugi mechanic as if we’ve never heard it before and honestly, it just sounded like everyone was very frustrated.

Like for reals what is he wearing?

Why are there so few normal ass suits in Yugioh? Why is KAIBA the only person who knows what colors belong on a fitted suit? (And he just wears white, which isn’t a color and is always very safe but youknow it still boggles my mind that the power suit people are so into very friendly soft pastels from Gozaburo, to Pegasus, to Noah, to Darts.)

I would wear this suit to Easter Sunday. Darts just wears it every day.

And so then we get a little insight into what it takes to become an Orichalcos card champion.

While before, Darts just kinda poked Mai in the forehead and she was instantly imbued with Aqua Green Evilness, he decided to do a weird test on Rex and Weevil. Just to make sure they realllllly wanted to be here.

As if they didn’t stow away in a 18 hour flight stuffed into a handbag, hold in their piss for said 18 hours, then get shipped by accident to the Tenderloin, where they were mugged twice, and then get shoved into the trunk of Duke’s car, and then took a broken tandem bike to the hottest desert in America, where they then rode said bike off of a cliff in order to hang onto a flying helicopter.

Like I think this test was unnecessary, I think they want to be here.

But youknow, I think Darts just wanted to torture em for kicks.

And then Rex and Weevil have to grab two of these Oricalchos stones that were farting special effects and were very, very opposed to being owned by Rex and Weevil. But they managed to do it.

And uh congrats--their betrayal has begun!

And I don’t think anyone else on this show even recognized that they freakin left. Like they just kinda disappeared in Death Valley and then Duke was like “eh. They’ll find their way home.”

Kind of incredible that Joey and friends left these two stranded in Death Valley, That alone should have killed Rex and Weevil and like...Wow. Wow is Joey and co such a freakin asshole.

So don’t leave people stranded in Death Valley, they will join a card cult and freakin kill you. If the insane heat doesn’t kill them first.

And then because...I don’t know...I don’t know why, after sending his best and brightest fighters, Darts decided to downgrade and do this:

(based on a true story where a friend of mine worked as an intern in the city, and because they couldn’t pay him a living wage, he lived in a closet at said startup for nearly 2 years. Start-up culture is pretty real, folks, it’s PRETTY REAL. But, on the bright side, at least they had a shower in-house.)

So, I’m gonna go remove my contacts and try to forget how much queso I ate at that Superbowl party.

It was a lot of queso.

and if you just got here, this is a handy link to read these from the start.

PS anyone else pull the Yugioh fest in PAD? Because I have played this game...a lot over the course of 5 years and saved up over 300 free stones for several months in anticipation for this collab and then I pulled Kuriboh about 15 times. Most of you have no idea what that means, but for some of you out there, your heart just broke for me 15 times. (I did get 2 Yugis so I’m fine, but damn it) Then, bro saved up his stones and pulled Seto Kaiba, Marik, and Bakura all in a row. Freakin gotcha games, man. Freakin gotcha games.

[masterweaverx]

Yatsuhashi Daichi is the big friendly giant of team CFVY, and the last member to be Dungeoned up for Dragoning by me. Let’s get to it!

On the combat side, Yatsu is pretty simple--he’s big, he’s got a big sword, so he’ll want to swing that big sword for big damage. Also he has a habit of being a human shield and protecting people, so giving him a way to do that is kinda key. The big issue is his semblence--the ability to temporarily and/or permanently wipe out memories, which he can use to make people stumble a bit in combat or... for other purposes. That’s going to be tricky to simulate, but not impossible.

Jumping right into the point array we’re putting 15 points in strength because have you seen the man? Then 14 points in Intelligence, most of the spells we want are on the Wizard list and honestly I don’t think Yatsu’s an idiot anyway. Constitution’s next with 13 points, crucial for HP and spell concentration, followed by Wisdom with 12 point because the man does try to listen to the world around him. Charisma is 10, which is fine, and that leaves Dexterity at 8 since, well, Yatsuhashi can’t really be all that sneaky can he?

Speaking of not being sneaky, Yatsuhashi is big enough that I’m going to say his race is a Goliath. They’re technically still Medium characters, but they get +2 to Strength and +1 to Constitution, as well as proficiency in Athletics and a Powerful Build so they count as one size larger for purposes of encumbrance. Goliaths also get the feature Mountain Born, giving them acclimation to high altitudes and cold weather--isn’t Mistral built into a mountain? And Stone’s Endurance lets them shrug off 1d12 plus their con modifier of damage as a reaction once per rest, which means Yatsu’s got a bit more than aura keeping him safe.

For background we’re going to go with Acolyte, mostly because Yatsuhashi seems to have a deep respect for the world around him that comes with some religious orders. Also he meditates. This gives him proficiency in Insight and Religion, in case he encounters any groups that talk about gods, an extra couple of languages, and the Shelter of the Faithful feature, which lets him get a party discount on healing at certain temples (or hospitals, flavor is everything!).

Since Yatsu’s focused a lot of his life on that big sword of his, we’ll be picking up ten levels of Fighter first. Fighters get proficiency in all weapons, all armors, Strength saving throws, Constitution saving throws, and two skills--I’d pick Animal Handling and Intimidation. First level fighters get to pick a fighting style--Great Weapon Fighting makes the most out of that big sword--and gain Second Wind, letting them regain 1d10+their fighter level HP as a bonus action once per rest. Standard tenth-level fighters also get an Action Surge (take one extra action on a turn once per rest), Extra Attack (do two attacks with a single attack action) and Indomitable (reroll a failed saving throw once per long rest).

Fighters also pick a marital archetype at their third level and I figured Cavalier works pretty well with Yatsu’s protective fighting style. Thing is, there are three different versions of Cavalier on the website I’m using as reference, so I’m going with the one from the Revise Class Options unearthed Arcana. Yatsuhashi still gets a bonus proficiency (I picked Persuasion) and Born To The Saddle (which gives Yatsu the ability to slip on and off a mount easily and stay on without too much trouble). But he also gets Combat Superiority, and at level ten that means he has a total of 5 d10 Superiority Dice he can spend on four maneuvers, which regenerate on a Rest. The Ferocious Charger feature also lets us enhance the Trip Attack maneuver, spending two dice on it to give the target disadvantage on their saving throw.

Control Mount: When Yatsu makes a Wisdom (Animal Handling) check to influence a creature that he or an ally is riding, he can expend one superiority die, roll it, and add the number rolled to the check. he can do this before or after rolling the d20, but before applying the results of the check.

Precision Attack: When Yatsu makes a weapon attack against a creature, he can expend one superiority die, roll it, and add it to the attack roll. He can use this ability before or after rolling the d20, but before any of the effects of the attack are applied.

Trip Attack: When Yatsu hits a creature with a weapon attack, he can expend one superiority die to attempt to knock the target down. Roll the die, and add it to the attack's damage roll. If the target is Large or smaller, it must also succeed on a Strength saving throw (DC 8 + Yatsu’s proficiency bonus + Yatsu’s Strength modifier) or be knocked prone.

Warding Maneuver: If Yatsu or a creature within 5 feet of him is hit by an attack, he can expend one superiority die as a reaction if he’s wielding a weapon or a shield. Roll the die, and add the number rolled to the target's AC against that attack. If the attack still hits, the target has resistance against the attack's damage.

After ten levels in Fighter come ten levels in Wizard, which mostly give us spells and an Arcane Tradition. That said, we do get Arcane Recovery, which lets us regain a number of spell slots with a total value equal to half our Wizard level per day. At ten levels, that means we can get a second level and third level slot back, or a fifth level slot back, or five first level slots back...

With ten levels of Wizard and Fighter, we get ten Ability Score Improvements total. I’d burn one for the Resilient feat, which gives us +1 intelligence and proficiency in Intelligence saving throws and leaves us eight points to spread among the abilities. Eight points is just enough to bump Yatsu’s Strength and Intelligence up to their maximum of twenty, so now he’s super strong and super smart.

For the Arcane Tradition of choice, I decided to settle on Onomancy, which gives a lot of small abilities that let Yatsuhashi screw with people’s heads while he’s casting spells. He gets the ability to Extract the Name of one creature in sight, which charms them till the end of his next turn, and he can use this ability an amount of times equal to his intelligence modifier per long rest. It also lets him learn the true name of the target, which his Fateful Naming feature uses to cast Bane or Bless on them without expending a spell slot (a number of times per long rest equal to his Intelligence Modifier). And of course he gets proficiency with Calligrapher’s Supplies, which is clearly very important.

Onomancers also get the Resonant Utterance feature, which lets them modify a non-cantrip spell they cast by adding the true name of a target and one Resonant to a wizard spell they cast. They can do this a number of times equal to half their wizard level per long rest, and at ten levels they know four Resonants. And these are the Resonants I picked for Yatsuhashi:

Devastation: If the spell requires the named creature to make a saving throw, that creature has disadvantage on the first save it makes against the spell.

Dissolution: The first time the named creature takes damage from the spell, that creature takes an extra 2d8 force damage. The extra force damage increases by 1d8 when Yatsu reaches 10th level (3d8) in this class.

Nullification: If the named target is affected by any other spells, Yatsu knows what those spells are, and he can attempt to end one of his choice by succeeding on an Intelligence check with a DC equal to 10 + the level of the chosen spell.

Puppetry: The first time the named creature takes damage from the spell, Yatsu can knock the creature prone or move it up to 10 feet, either directly toward him or away from him.

Obviously this is all great for screwing with the enemy, but it relies on Yatsuhashi casting spells. And as a tenth-level wizard with 20 Intelligence, Yatsuhashi knows five cantrips and 24 spells (even if he only has five prepared). Technically he always has Bane and Bless prepared because of his Fateful Naming feature, but for the rest of the spells he can cast on a whim, I went with a lot of ‘screw with ‘em’ spells.

Cantrips:

Booming Blade (Wizard)

Gust (Wizard)

Mind Silver (Wizard)

Thunderclap (Wizard)

True Strike (Wizard) (Concentration)

L1 (Four Slots)

Bane (Fateful Naming) (Concentration) [Prepared Without Cost]

Bless (Fateful Naming) (Concentration) [Prepared Without Cost]

Cause Fear (Wizard) (Concentration) [Prepared]

Charm Person (Wizard) [Prepared]

Ray of Sickness (Wizard) [Prepared]

L2 (Three Slots)

Crown of Madness (Wizard) (Concentration) [Prepared]

Detect Thoughts (Wizard) [Prepared]

Hold Person (Wizard) (Concentration) [Prepared]

Knock (Wizard) [Prepared]

Mental Barrier (Wizard) [Prepared]

Mind Spike (Wizard) [Prepared]

Thought Shield (Wizard) [Prepared]

Ray of Enfeeblement (Wizard) [Prepared]

L3 (Three Slots)

Bestow Curse (Wizard) (Concentration) [Prepared]

Counterspell (Wizard) [Prepared]

Remove Curse (Wizard) [Prepared]

L4 (Three Slots)

Ego Whip (Wizard) (Concentration) [Prepared]

L5 (Two Slots)

Modify Memory (Wizard) (Concentration) [Prepared]

This isn’t all the spells Yatsuhashi can know--he can theoretically know 9 more Wizard spells up to 5th level--but it does seem a decent spread to have prepared for, you know, temporarily wiping the last twelve seconds from somebody’s mind so he has an advantage on hitting them with his sword.

So yeah, there’s my take on Yatsuhashi.

[choicesatnight]

Lie to me

Title: Lie to me

Pairing: James Ashton x Vivian (MC)

Rating: NSFW n stuff…

Word count: 2,480 words

My disclaimer: This character is owned by PB, I just enjoy some elaboration. I really love James Ashton and I love Choices fanfics, especially nasty ass stuff but there isn’t much featuring my original bae, James Ashton from The Freshman series

So, I decided to put my amateur ass talent to work and write with James being the *star of the story*

A/N: * is a separator due to scene change, use of Daddy. My pc is broken. This is my first time posting from my phone (a full story). Don't judge me too harshly lol.

[[MORE]]

"Make a right into the lot at the next light"

"Viv, is this the ONLY place that had formula?"

"The kind we give to Logan, yes. You know your parents will give him any formula but that ain't gonna work"

0he makes a right into the lot and cruises while looking for a place to park.

"Okay, why does he need to have this one?"

He passes a few empty spots while mumbling "can't park there" under his breath.

"Babe. Pay attention to our baby's diet. This formula is the next best to breast milk which I'm not producing so he needs it and why don't you just park!?"

"We need to park in the shade or else the leather upholstery will burn us."

"But do you have to park in the next continent?"

"Your body will thank me when we return to the car and it's cool "

"But will my legs thank you for the marathon I gotta run to get to the entrance of the store?"

He parks in front of another store.

"Right in front of the store and in the shade. Perfect."

"This is not the store, sweetie. It's one store over"

"Oh. Well, the walk isn't bad Mrs. Ashton, I'll carry you." Before she can protest, he swoops her up carrying her bridal style "When we get our honeymoon, this will lead to the bed."

"IF you can resist me that long." She leans to kiss him and he sets her down once they've made it into the store.

She grabs a cart, "Okay. Aisle 14."

"Do we need anything else?"

"Well, you ate all the mandarin oranges so why don't you go grab some while I get Logan's formula? Meet me at check out seven."

"Okay." James walks off to produce while Vivian goes to aisle 14. She claims every bit of Logan's formula before heading to the checkout where James is already standing.

"Damn baby, did you clean out the supply?" James jokes when seeing all the cans of formula in the cart.

"Actually, yes. Are we going to your parents or the real estate thing first?"

"We're going to see a house. Then we'll drop the formula to my parents.'

"Okay. There were only 30 cans of formula, so I got em all "

"Your total is 812.00"

"Anything for my son" as he hands the cashier his card. He pays and they walk back to the car.

**

"This place is so nice James."

"You like it?"

"Oh my gosh, babe. It's perfect. It's so spacious.”

"Good. I already bought it. I just needed you to look at it."

"This is our house!? I love you so much. How'd you know I would like it?"

"I love you too and I know my wife."

She looks around, "Where’s the agent?"

"She doesn't need to be here." He dangles a key from his hand, "I have a key."

"Is that so?" She removes her jacket, placing it along with her purse on a table as she walks toward him.

"You know your wife, huh? What does your wife want now?"

"She wants the kind of kiss she can only get from her husband." He doesn't have to pull her too much closer before his lips meet hers turning into a deeper kiss.

"Okay. That was a good kiss. What else does your wife want?"

He picks her up, "She wants to be carried to this table. She wants less talk and more action." He climbs on top of her on the table and leans to kiss her stomach up as he removes her dress.

"Your wife likes this..."

"Told you, I know my wife." He loosens the hinges of her bra and throws it over before he uses his tongue to awaken her nipple. Circling the areola until it stiffens then licking it up and down over and over while rubbing the other nipple.

"That feels so good, babe" she moans as he closes his mouth to suck her nipple getting her to moan louder. She attempts to get his pants off but his tongue feels so good on her nipple, she lacks the strength and focus it takes to unbutton them. Realizing what she's trying to do, he undoes his pants when switching nipples. This time he nibbles gently, letting her feel his teeth softly. Teasing her nipple, leaving her begging to be bitten.

"Daddy, please. No teasing." He starts to lick her nipple while reaching to remove her panties. Vivian never fails to wear a dress, making it easier for him to reach her core. He sticks a finger in her while continuing to lick her nipple.

"What do you want Daddy to do?" He removes his finger from her pussy to put it in his mouth "Taste you?" He knows exactly what she wants him to do but she loses her thought when he does that. "Anything, babe, anything. " he only smiles and returns to her nipple. He may have confused her but he still knows she wants her nipple bitten. Once he bites down, she screams calling out to him "DADDY" and she instinctively arches her back, smashing her tit to smother his face. He takes that moment to smash her breasts together as her back settles down to the table, he puts both nipples in his mouth at once. Sucking on them intensely,

"Babe." She only wants to moan. He has to know how amazing this feels, though she speaks up. "Babe, I'm gonna cum just from this." He's pleased to hear this and bites dollwn on both nipples as she moans his name. Already had removed her panties, James gets off the table pulling her to the edge and pushing her legs up. On his knees in front of the table, he licks her lips. "Mmmm you're definitely ready for me." He licks again, tongue touching her clit. "Your pussy is so wet for Daddy." He inserts a finger while maneuvering his tongue all over pussy "So perfect." He licks her up and down, before kissing her slit inserting a little more tongue each time. He stands up completely bottomless. "Another part of me misses the warmth of being inside of you." His dick is hard, pointed exactly where it needs to be and he wastes no more time pushing himself into her.

"Feels like home. This is the pussy I need."

"Daddy it's yours. Forever. Just fuck me."

He starts thrusting and she starts moaning.

"Yes! Yes! This is the dick I need James don't stop!" It's the first time they've had intercourse since they've been apart and James wants her permanently smiling.

He slows down his stroke, thrusting at a medium speed allowing her to feel every entrance and exit.

"Daddy, I'm gonna cum"

He starts thrusting faster

"Me too. Whose pussy is this?"

"Daddy it's yours."

He thrust with more powerful momentum as if his pelvis is smacking against hers.

"I don't believe you. Tell me again."

"DADDY THIS PUSSY IS YOURS" she screams and while still inside her, he leans to kiss her lips.

"That was worth the wait babe."

"We still have a honeymoon to have. Imagine sex then." He backs out of her and helps her off the table

"I needed your pussy. Damn you're amazing."

"You never had sex with Comfort?"

It's the only time Vivian has ever called Comfort by name

"Baby don't talk about that girl. Let's get dressed so we can get to my parents."

"Okay..."

**

Ppp

"This is a lot of formula." Mrs. Ashton looks at the cans as James stacks them in the cabinet.

"I know it looks like a lot but it's all he's eating right now. This brand is hard to come by so we purchased every can available. "

"Okay. I understand. Are you two ready for trial tomorrow?"

"I think so. Its the day of defense so it should go pretty smoothly." After spending time with Vivian and Logan, Mr. Ashton enters the kitchen

"Vivian says you bought a house?"

"Yes. Three bedrooms in Lakewood. "

"What happened to the home in Palos Verdes?"

James still hasn't told his parents that he and Vivian ever broke up and he has no intention on doing so.

"Someone else got to it before us."

"Really? Wasn't that house somewhere around a million dollars?" His father doesn't believe him.

"Darling, if James says it wasn't available then it wasn't available. " his mother speaks up.

"Thanks, mom. Excuse me while I go see my son and wife. "

James walks into Logan's room where Vivian sits in a rocking chair holding him.

"Is he awake?"

"Just for his dad", she hands him to James.

James lowers his voice to a near whisper

"Hey, little buddy." He cradles Logan, lightly bouncing while holding him. "This is your dad. I just wanted to say Goodnight okay? I love you " he places Logan in the bassinet and looks to Vivian.

"We gotta go, baby. We need to get to sleep."

"Oh yeah...the trial." She takes a deep sigh "alright " they tell James parents goodbye and leave

**

THE PEOPLE V. BLACK MAMBA DAY 3

THE DEFENSE

The second hour of court

...

"Your honor I'd like to call our professional veterinarian to the stand. Dr. Moya Aven"

Dr. Aven walks to the stand and after being sworn in, takes a seat.

"Dr. Aven, how does someone get in possession of Black Mamba venom"?"

"Oh, you most certainly have to work in the field."

"What field are you referring to?"

"Various. You could be a veterinarian such as myself or even Ummm what do they call it? A snake milker or something "

"A veterinarian or a snake milker?"

"Yes"

"Is there any other way to obtain the venom"

"Sure if you're brave enough to fly to Africa and collect the venom directly from the snake."

"Are there any back Mambas here?"

"In our county? Oh, no. Not even in our state. You know what, not even in our country!"

"Dr. Aven, do you recognize Mrs. Ashton as a client or otherwise?"

"No"

"No further questions your honor"

Michael returns to his table beside Vivian when the judge speaks up

"Does the prosecution wish to question the witness?"

"Yes, your honor" the prosecutor stands in front of the doctor.

"Dr. Aven, do you have Black mamba venom at your practice?"

"Given the liberty of the case, should I answer this question, your honor?"

"Yes, you may proceed to answer " the judge informs her.

"Technically yes. The venom of the snake is always a part of the anti-venom. I have anti-venom. "

"Do you have pure venom?"

"No."

"Thank you, Dr. Aven. No further questions. "

Michael steps forward again.

"Your honor I call my final witness to the stand, Vivian Ashton." The people of the court murmur causing the judge to hit his gavel "Order in the court. " Vivian is sworn in.

"Mrs. Ashton, did you poison Reyna Mercado?"

"No"

"But she was poisoned the day you took her out?"

"Yes. The barista on staff that day was fired for using non-coffee ingredients but he hasn't been investigated at all."

"Did you witness her death?"

"Yes, and I stayed with her until she was officially pronounced. "

"How long until the police questioned you?"

"The next day"

"What happened?"

"They found an atomizer in my purse. They called it an empty vial of poison and deemed me guilty. My husband paid my bail."

"Okay. Do you have any pets?"

"No."

"Have you ever had a pet?"

"No"

"Thank you, Mrs. Ashton, no further questions though I'm sure prosecution has some questions.

"Prosecution?" the judge looks in their direction.

"Yes. Yes. Mrs. Ashton. I understand your mention of the barista. But why is Reyna the only one who died?"

"Objection your honor. The defendant would have to be a medical professional to answer that question.

"Objection sustained. Next question. "

"Mrs. Ashton, why were you always seen in the area when your husband was at the cafe with someone else?"

"We were living separately at the time though not far from one another. We still lived in the same neighborhood. It was merely a coincidence. "

"And your behavior toward Ms. Greene?"

James' fists clench and brows furrow, hoping Vivian will not respond sarcastically as she usually does about Comfort.

"I have no excuse for it. I don't know her well enough to have an opinion about her.

"Okay Mrs. Ashton, no further questions."

"Okay. Let's get to closing arguments.

Michael stands forward addressing the jury,

"People of the jury, the death of Reyna Mercado was tragic and is a great loss, the proper way to ease her loved ones and avenge her murder is to convict the right person. The fact is that Reyna was poisoned with black mamba venom. A deadly snake that isn't even available in the U.S. why would Mrs. Ashton, a mother, wife and new homeowner risk her life in flying to Africa to get this venom? She wouldn't. Use your common sense. Please do not convict. Defense rests." Michael takes his seat and the court remains silent as the prosecutor calls attention to himself,

"Jury. All you have to do is use your logic. The defendant has no alibi. She watched the girl die because she's the one who killed her. She mentioned the barista who got fired but she didn't mention that no one else died. Only Reyna. As I stated before, Ms. Mercado was good friends with Mr. Ashton and she wrongfully assumed she had a friend in Mrs. Ashton. Please don't let her death be in vain by convicting Vivian Ashton of murder Prosecution rest."

"Great. Two solid arguments. I'll give the jury time to deliberate and we can get outta here.”

10 minutes later

“We have a verdict.”)

The judge looks pleasantly surprised "That quick!? Okay. Let's hear it."

The foreman stands.

"In the case of the people versus the black mamba, We the jury find the defendant Vivian Ashton not guilty on all counts."

The court is the noisiest it's been the whole trial. The judge bangs his gavel to call order in the court.

"Mrs. Ashton, go home and raise that baby with your husband. Be a family and don't end up back in court. Court is adjourned"

Michael goes to shake the hand of the prosecutor, but the prosecutor rushes out. Comfort yells, "The jury got it wrong. You're married to a murderer. " and leaves without waiting for a response. "Michael! You did it! And babe! I'm free!"

"Of course we did it. I'm good at my job." Michael confidently boasts as James wraps his arms around her "I never understood why you were so worried. You're innocent."

“SO innocent!” Vivian smiles as she grabs James hand.

Teeny Tiny Tag List:

@zigortega4life

@littlecrookedheart

[ua-miruko]

.gc:

@ua-harmony​ 8:54 AM

{ harmony is online }

I'm not the only one who recieved a message right?

@ua-mirio​ 9:04 AM

[Mirio is online]

....No. Me too.

They purposely left out the rescue.

The public will go ..mad.

@ua-chargebolt​ 9:32 AM

[Kaminari is online]

I mean, everyone's out and.... more or less OK so... they'll figure everyone was rescued, right?

@ua-kamakiri​ 10:08 AM

Yeah, but that’s not enough for the masses.

The masses aren’t satisfied by much.

Kaminari 10:11 AM

As if getting to relive super freaky Friday wasn't enough...

@ua-shinso​ 10:11 AM

[Shinso is Online]

I think the biggest issue is that this happened in one of the top schools for hero’s, and that it was almost flawless.

So now the public is on edge.

kama 10:15 AM

Yeah, a school that’s regarded as the best should’ve secure. If UA can get attacked, anywhere can.

Shinso 10:16 AM

Exactly.

@ua-todoroki​ 10:24 AM

[Todoroki is online]

Bastards sure aren't taking any breaks from trying to ruin our lives. What the hell was that? Are we getting caught up between some sort of fucked up villain feud?

Mirio 10:25 AM

Everyone stay calm!

This is exactly what they want.

To install fear and anger....

We need to think our next step through.

Shinso 10:27 AM

Mirio is right, we can’t let this get to us. If they seem to be jealous about it then that means they might plan an attack of their own. And we need to be ready.

Todoroki 10:32 AM

Sure, I'm just pointing out that this doesn't seem like it's about us at all.

Kaminari 10:34 AM

Either way... worked didn't it?

What are we even supposed to do about it?

Apart from just... keep doing what we're doing

Todoroki 10:35 AM

We can't do anything except wait.

Shinso 10:37 AM

And hope that whatever they throw at us, we can beat.

Kaminari 10:37 AM

Comforting.

Todoroki 10:38 AM

I'm sure the heroes are trying to figure out how to go about it right now, too.

I wish they wouldn't leave us completely in the dark, but again, what the hell can we do

Shinso 10:39 AM

They probably don’t want to worry us, or have us try to get involved with their plans.

Kaminari 10:40 AM

We're going to worry either way... surely they know that..

I wanna know what the hell's going on

Shinso 10:40 AM

That’s true. Nothing we can do about that...

Kaminari 10:42 AM

So what are we suppposed to do in the meantime, have a slumber party or something?

Todoroki 10:42 AM

We should be trusted with at least some of it. We're training to be heroes, for fucks sake.

Kaminari 10:42 AM

^

Shinso 10:44 AM

Well until they trust us with anything we just have to continue with our classes. We can’t force the pros to tell us anything, they’ll just brush us off. Training or not, we’re still only teenagers.

Kaminari 10:45 AM

... some of whom almost died last time

I get what you're saying, Shin, but

"only" teenagers just seems...

H

Shinso 10:46 AM

I agree we should be trusted more. But there isn’t a damn thing we can do right now and there’s no sense in getting worked up over it.

Todoroki 10:47 AM

Only teenagers at the most attacked hero school in the world, apparently.

Shinso 10:48 AM

...

[Shinso is Offline]

BUNNY HERO Miruko!! 10:48 AM

[BUNNY HERO Miruko!! is online]

SUP midgets

Kaminari 10:49 AM

Hi, Miruko-san

Any news?

BUNNY HERO Miruko!! 10:50 AM

yeah, everything's goin to shit. what kinda news are ya lookin for, hun?

Todoroki 10:52 AM

What the plan is.

Kaminari 10:53 AM

Anything. What the best thing for us students to do... other than wait around for an encore

BUNNY HERO Miruko!! 10:54 AM

oh. yeah. ya see, shit takes more than like five seconds to crap out so excuse us if it's takin a while to reeeeeeeel this fuckery in

Todoroki 10:55 AM

Can you update us if there is anything planned.

Kaminari 10:56 AM

Do we at least know if our families are going to be safe?

BUNNY HERO Miruko!! 10:57 AM

planned? for yall or what? i'm not a teacher haha y'think i'm just sittin around with your staff as they cry about this bullshit

Mirio 10:57 AM

Guys, guys, please

BUNNY HERO Miruko!! 10:57 AM

no?

what do you think this is, really?

Mirio 10:57 AM

I ah...I can talk to the teachers. I'm always in touch with them, there's no need to bombard Miruko.

BUNNY HERO Miruko!! 10:57 AM

no we can't guarentee shit, no we don't know if your families are safe, no we don't know if you're safe, no we don't know if WE're safe

if you want me to lie to you and say that, oh yeah we know everything, you're talkin to the wrong hero

Kaminari 10:58 AM

So what, another hero would lie?

Mirio 10:58 AM

Oh Jesus that's...worse than anything you could have said.

....and the silence is the sound of our hopes shattering.

BUNNY HERO Miruko!! 10:59 AM

let them shatter, then. and then when you're done wallowing about 'em, build 'em back up and go back to doing what you're meant to be doing

Mirio 10:59 AM

Miruko!

Kaminari!

Agh....

BUNNY HERO Miruko!! 11:00 AM

hm.

Kaminari 11:00 AM

What? Were we supposed to just not react? cmon, senpai

Mirio 11:00 AM

STAY FUCKING CALM.

Dont you guys realize what you're doing?!

BUNNY HERO Miruko!! 11:01 AM

yer the one fucking cussin at us.

Todoroki 11:01 AM

You sound more stressed than anyone else.

Kaminari 11:01 AM

Panicking?

Mirio 11:03 AM

YEAH BECAUSE TRY EXPLAINING TO A LITTLE GIRL WHOS BEEN KIDNAPPED AND TORTURED THAT A MAN WITH HANDS FOR A FACE ISN'T GOING TO STEAL HER AWAY.

Ahem.

I'm just saying. If we give in to chaos it makes their job easier.

We may not know all the answers.

The pros might not either.

But we have to resist the chaos and the urge to panic, okay.

BUNNY HERO Miruko!! 11:04 AM

mhm. y'see.

i don't gotta do that though cuz i'm too busy trying to explain to a bunch of tortured teenagers that shit sucks and i expect yall to deal with it regardless. so stop speakin over me.

like, i am trying to tell yall what answers we do and dont have over here

honestly, if yall wanna panic over it, just fuckin sign out and go cry about it in your rooms

so why don't you go on and do that, kid.

Mirio 11:07 AM

....sorry ma'am. Won't happen again.

[Mirio is idle]

BUNNY HERO Miruko!! 11:08 AM

awesome.

now where were we

Kaminari 11:08 AM

Signing out to panic?

Todoroki 11:08 AM

Wow. Okay.

BUNNY HERO Miruko!! 11:09 AM

if that's what you all wanna do, go for it lmfao

Todoroki 11:09 AM

Is there anything the heroes know that we don't?

BUNNY HERO Miruko!! 11:10 AM

depends. i don't actually know what you all know or don't know. like i said, not a teacher, not part of your staff, don't know what they've actually kept from you or not.

Todoroki 11:10 AM

All we have is the video.

Kaminari 11:12 AM

And the Dread.

BUNNY HERO Miruko!! 11:12 AM

being dramatic ain't gonna help in an info briefing, kid, but thanks.

Kaminari 11:14 AM

Well, we haven't even gotten any new info, so... briefing?

BUNNY HERO Miruko!! 11:15 AM

yeah, the thing i was about to do before you started getting all theatrical on me. which i'd appreciate if you'd cut out cuz it's distracting

Kaminari 11:17 AM

Well, I'm sorry for that. 

It's just... a little hard trying not to panic with such a clear memory of the last thing that happened.

BUNNY HERO Miruko!! 11:18 AM

of course. and i understand that

which is why i'm sayin there's no shame in checkin out for a bit

god knows some of the pros are right about now, HA.

anyway.

it depends on what part of the video you wanna know about first. the UA footage was clearly altered but it was taken specifically from UA's survaillace systems. meanwhile that nasty bit with hawks was obviously presented in such a way to try and make everyone panic about even the pros being attacked, which ain't happenin.

the actual hawks is fine. wasn't him that was in the video.

Todoroki 11:21 AM

Then.. who was it?

@ua-vladking 11:23 AM

[VK is online]

....What in hells name is the meaning of this.

BUNNY HERO Miruko!! 11:24 AM

pff. oh no the police.

VK 11:24 AM

What the fuck are you doing woman?

Telling these children this?

BUNNY HERO Miruko!! 11:24 AM

i'm telling them what they need to hear because none of you lot are doin it?

Todoroki 11:24 AM

Were you going to just not tell us anything?

VK 11:27 AM

Listen 1A squirt, what we are telling you guys is for us to decide. And we aren't taking any action until all of us have discussed the subject.

So calm your fire, Endeavor junior.

As for YOU, Usagyiyama.

[BUNNY HERO Miruko!! Has been removed]

[VK is offline.]

Todoroki 11:28 AM

Oh my fucking god.

[braindamageforbeginners]

A Few Words on Clinical Trials...

14 months, two weeks post-dx

It’s come to my attention that there are people following me on social media hoping I’ll figure out how to survive a deadly disease. Gods bless ‘em; that’s now obviously my core function (well, in addition to figuring out how to get a career and/or life that can survive a brain that not infrequently shudders to a halt and explodes)(which reminds me, I got the car fixed, which is a sort of victory unto itself). So, here’s the deal; full disclosure.

A helluva lot of luck is involved. At every step. First of all, I had my first tumor (probably unrelated, but it’s still extremely suspicious) at age 17, which was successfully and completely surgically removed. However, the longest I’ve gone between MRIs is 12 months, so I was tagged and tracked at such an early point that they detected Tumor #2 (astrocytoma grade II) and removed it as soon as possible (ASAP in this case being a 10-month delay while Obamacare protections and funding came into effect so that I could get insurance)(yes, people do die of treatable diseases in America). And, since astrocytoma tends to come back angry (as it already did), I was closely monitored for the two inter-tumor years between Tumor #2 and #3 (I once calculated I’ve had almost 40 MRIs in my life)(there might be a correlation between that).

Secondly, I was able to get into a clinical trial - and stay in one. I’ve written about that previously, but a major takeaway is that you can always refuse treatment or leave a clinical trial, but if you formally leave or are removed, you never, ever get to come back. Also, due to the specificity of cancer treatments, there are loads and loads of qualifying or disqualifying factors for who is and isn’t eligible for a trial - Again, these are usually for patient safety (if you think otherwise, I’d challenge you to inject a known toxic substance into your system and see what happens). I do know, from working at a biotech company, that, even though the costs of running these trials doesn’t justify the $300K that Pfizer plans on charging for treatments, they aren’t cheap, and, if I were a cynical man, I’d try to jam-pack my experimental drug trial with as many people as possible who looked like they’d survive on standard-of-care (SOC is legally required in addition to all experimental treatments). To that end, I’m also lucky  - again, in a very weird, funky way.

There are three different forms of the IDH gene in gliomas; I don’t have the best one, nor do I have the worst one. However, “second best” is miles better than the worst one. I also have a methylated MGMT gene, which is important - the unmethylated version is resistant to radiation treatment, which is bad. I also have an ATRX mutation, which is relatively rare, but confers a high five-year survival rate (in this case “high” is 30-50%, which is considered failing in most places).

And I’m young (less than 40) and relatively healthy, which is another good predictor - whether it’s because that means I’m more likely to survive the nastiest napalm baths available and ask for more (and that makes oncologists considerably less ginger about starting you off with the nastiest stuff imaginable), or whether there’s some intrinsic anti-cancer aspect of youth, I honestly don’t know. Same goes with tolerating treatment well - I don’t know if that’s a correlation/causation issue, but again, anything that makes your oncologists feel safer about ordering more/harsher treatment is probably going to add to your life expectancy (if the chemo and radiation doesn’t kill you first). I honestly don’t know if I’d’ve been written off if I was morbidly obese and had heart problems.

So far in my grand design to survive the unsurvivable and pass that on, I realize I’m not coming up with superb results that can be easily replicated. Youth and mutations are random chance, getting into a trial is a matter of being in the right place at the right time (as so much else in life)(although you can do research through clinicaltrials.gov to see if there’s anything you might qualify for).

The advice I can give is this; and it’s worked for me, so far (feel free to change, ignore, or discard it as applicable to your situation):

1. Early detection is key. Familiarize yourself with the most common risk factors and symptoms of brain tumors, and floor it to a neurologist when you have them.

2. Get the very best quality of care, and be prepared to travel. This one is huge. For some reason, lots of people are eager to have their hometown hero perform on them, and the results are usually horrific. When you have brain cancer, the difference between “the very best” and “well qualified” is measured in corpses.

3. Don’t take “No” for an answer. I realise we all need to get better at consent issues, but the word “inoperable” needs to be removed from the medical lexicon immediately. Someone recently accused me of giving false hope when I linked to Anderson MD’s list of GBM myths that “inoperable” is usually code for a facility that doesn’t have the expertise, competence, or technical facilities needed to successfully operate on it. In other words, someone out there will have the ability to do something for you, likely surgically if you move fast enough. Yeah, that might be false hope, but you know what false hope beats the shit out of? Completely hopeless. Real grown-ups are surprisingly fragile and tend to go to pieces at the smallest things. In the past year, I’ve seen my parents throw temper tantrums over arguments they’ve had with my siblings, or an ant infestation. If that’s your mindset, then, yeah, you’re going to be paralyzed and lose that window of opportunity to beat this thing. As I wrote previously, you’re going to go into complete, paralytic shock the first 48-96 hours after you get a diagnosis. Enjoy it, because you don’t ever get to panic, ever again. Same thing with “inoperable,” if you want to accept that and  die, that’s your decision. Survival - of any sort - is not for the faint of heart, and you will  have to drag yourself across that finish line (or have your friends help you). Again, passing on some wisdom from Original Research Coordinator, the first 6-10 weeks post-diagnosis are the deciding factor for glioblastoma. If someone refuses to treat you, ask for a referral.

4. Stick through the entire treatment regimen. I’ve written previously that there are a lot of things you can do to make yourself more comfortable and healthy during chemo and radiation (that would be where the “complementary medicine” comes in). Again, you can quit treatment at any point, but you can’t always continue it  And, as I know, once post-surgical options get removed, they never come back.

5. Complementary, not alternative medicine. There is no cure “they” don’t want you to know about, there is no secret cancer survivor meeting where we all toast each other on finding the fountain of health - you’re thinking of Skull and Bones. Having said that, I get it - cancer treatments of any sort are a shit sandwich and you’re going to have to just get over it and take a big bite. It’s seductive to think there’s a less painful, disruptive, and dangerous path. Don’t believe it for a minute - you’ve gotten a raw deal, and you have to get over it. Having said that, exercise, diet, and lots of CDB (and THC)(don’t smoke it, though) probably made the difference for me completing the full 12 cycles of chemo. I never for a minute thought they would cure of me of anything, but they might allow you to survive the cure.

6. Follow your doctor’s recommendations and orders. Americans are the only people in the world who will happily accept a mechanics’ bill for five grand without doing any research or shopping around; but will argue with a trained professional about an obscure aspect of treatment or research. Back in the third or fourth cycle, at Mom’s recommendation, I asked Head Warlock in Charge (HWIC) about hyperbaric oxygen chambers (they’re good for radiation recovery). He nixed it (Mad Scientist also said she wouldn’t recommend it), and, at the next MRI, I was rewarded with a new glowing dot. In this case, that turned out to be further radiation scarring, but what if that bet had gone the other way? And, in defense of HWIC, he did mention in the most recent consult that he’d be willing to sign off on the hyperbaric chamber in a few months, if there wasn’t any further growth and my radiation scaring wasn’t improving (for those of you who’ve seen me recently, the scarring is only visible from the inside of my skull).

[fallout4holmes]

Journal 14

The Personal Journal of Mr. S. Holmes Diamond City, The Commonwealth, 2288

It was slightly disorienting to wake up on a mattress near the the Railroad’s back door. My body protested as I stood and looked for my companions. Hancock was talking with Deacon, the small crowd of agents around them wearing smiles of disbelief. Deacon was animatedly finishing a story involving two Coursers, a stick of gum, and a super mutant suicider. Hancock reclined in his chair, inhaled a small puff of jet, and said, “If any of that were true, I’d be damn impressed. But let me ask you, brother… you ever meet a comic book hero?”

I’m certain Deacon knew exactly what Hancock was referring to, but he played along and the tale was begun. I decided to let them have their fun and glanced around for Valentine. I saw him talking to Dr. Carrington. I took a step toward them, and was stopped by Desdemona.

“I can't say I'm thrilled with having the Mayor of Goodneighbor here.”

She didn't seem upset, and in fact she was possibly amused. “He's been letting your agents operate in his town for years,” I said.

“I’m not concerned he's going to go running to the Brotherhood with our location,” she said, “he's just… unpredictable.”

“He's perfectly predictable. Good guys get helped, bad guys get hurt. That is more or less a direct quote.”

She chuckled, and turned the conversation to business. Apparently, there is a loosely affiliated group of raiders that has been causing trouble for the Railroad, a particularly sadistic lot calling themselves the L&L Gang who take great delight in finding and executing synths. Desdemona claimed the Railroad had lost more synths to them over the years than even the Coursers. They had a lead on one of the gang’s top figures, a man by the name of Lucky Tatum. He was hiding out in Back Street Apparel. As I’d be headed in that direction to return to Diamond City, she wanted me to deal with him. I agreed.

Valentine approached, “What's the plan?”

“How does eliminating a few members of a synth hunting gang suit you, Mr. Valentine?”

“Synth hunting, hm? I'd be lying if I said that didn't hold a certain appeal.”

“Deacon will join us,” I stated, but Desdemona answered as if it had been a question.

“He wants to help. How'd you guess?”

“I never guess,” I said with a wry grin.

She was unimpressed, but it doesn't matter. I approached the two men still engaged in verbal one-upmanship. “Mayor Hancock. Deacon, Valentine, and I are going to deal with synth hunting raiders, will you be joining us before you return to Goodneighbor?”

Hancock smiled sinisterly. “Sounds like my kind of trouble.”

“He's coming?” Deacon asked. “You uh, sure that's safe?”

“Safe?” Hancock laughed as he stood, “where the hell’s the fun in that?”

As we walked, I asked Deacon what the status was of the Courser he'd gone after. He said it was taken care of, but that I got to fight the next one.

“Courser, huh?” Hancock said from his position in front. “That must have been a hell of a - oh, shit!” he turned the corner, and immediately backed up, his shotgun at the ready, “If you got any explosives, now would be a real good time to use ‘em!”

The deathclaw’s roar echoed over the shotgun blast as it came around the building. “Don’t let it get close!” Deacon called out, “Pop a Stealth Boy if you got one!” and he promptly did.

Hancock swore, colorfully, followed with, “We’re in a goddamn alley, and he says ‘don’t let it get close.’”

Deacon managed to flank the beast, as Hancock, Valentine, and I continued our assault while moving as quickly backwards as we could until we cleared the alley and could gain some distance. Being attacked from all directions confused it enough for us to put it down with relative ease. As easy as killing a ten foot reptile of sheer muscle and rage ever is.

Once it was dead, Hancock sighed. “Could use some jet after that.”

Deacon limped over to us, wincing. “Another deathclaw down, another of my nine lives burned. Yay.”

“Are you alright?” I asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just a bruised rib. Ribs. Ribcage. Ow. Got hit by the damn tail.”

“Walking away from a fight with a Deathclaw is no small feat,” Valentine mused. “Nicely done, everyone.”

Hancock nudged the deathclaw’s head with the toe of his boot. “So what do you think it would take to train these things to just eat super mutants?”

“Well, first we’d have to find a baby and name it Fluffy,” Deacon quipped.

Hancock laughed, “Anyone up for deathclaw steaks? Nothing like eating a meal made from something that tried to eat you.”

“That’s like, every meal,” Deacon said as we moved forward. “I mean, except the vegetarian ones. Unless there are mutant man-eating plants out there. Attack of the killer tatos.”

“Brahmin don’t try to eat you.”

“Not yet.” Deacon spared a last glance at the deathclaw. He shuddered. “Man, I do not like those things.”

“Yeah, give me the chills, too,” Hancock admitted.

Valentine and I followed as Hancock and Deacon continued bonding over their shared terror and continued hypothesizing on the existence of various other life forms that could kill them yet would taste good.

“Holmes,” said Valentine, “you got a weird taste in friends.”

“Said the man at the top of the list,” I smirked.

“Doesn’t make it any less true,” he said.

After the deathclaw, Lucky Tatum and his crew of bigoted sadists didn’t stand a chance. It was a massacre. All four of us present hadn’t been necessary, but I knew why Deacon had wanted to be there. He didn’t say anything, and the sunglasses continue to make reading his thoughts difficult, but when it was all over he said, “No comparison to Deathclaws.”

“Yet just as necessary to deal with,” I said. “The circumstances are slightly different, besides.”

He looked at me, inscrutable for a moment, before smiling. “No giant tails to dodge, for one thing. I gotta see the doc when I get back to HQ. Ugh, won’t that be fun.”

“Found some ammo in here!” Hancock shouted from a far room.

Valentine spoke quietly as Deacon joined the Mayor, “If I ask what that was about, am I going to get a straight answer?”

“Deacon trusted me with details about his life, which to be perfectly honest I don’t know are true or not. My instinct leans towards truth.”

When it became clear that was all I was going to say on the matter, he said, “You could have just said ‘no, Nick, man’s got a right to his secrets.’”

I grinned. I don’t know for sure if Deacon was thinking of the creature or the gang from his life story when he said Deathclaws, but I thought the acknowledgement should be there, should he choose to take it. Perhaps the gang never existed, perhaps Deacon was never married, perhaps, perhaps… and yet. The possibility of its truth is enough to respect his wishes that it never be known. He went through the trouble of erasing the recording of it. That might count for something toward its validity.

Deacon said he would let Desdemona know the good news as we left the area. We said our goodbyes, and the three of us turned toward Diamond City. Hancock seemed to be enjoying our company, and avoiding his mayoral duties. As we passed the guards patrolling outside the Diamond City entrance, he grew silent and stern, exuding deadly confidence as each guard watched him pass.

“Would you like to come in?” I asked.

He frowned. “You know ghouls ain’t welcome.”

“That wasn’t what I asked.”

He chuckled, and said, “Nah. I appreciate the gesture, but we’d be makin’ Nicky here an accomplice or some such bullshit, and he gets enough crap as it is. I’ll sneak in on my own sometime. I’m countin’ on you to keep my removal dignified when I do.”

He left, and we went inside the city. “How’re you feeling?” Valentine asked.

“Fine. Why do you ask?”

“You were in rough shape before. Just checking on you.”

“I’m fine, Valentine, truly. We’re home, what is there to be worried about?”

He laughed softly, “Alright. Can’t blame an old synth for being worried. I’d hate to lose a partner to something so mundane as poor health.”

We checked in at the Agency before he told me to go home and spend some time with my son. I didn’t argue. I was glad to see Shaun, and together we worked on a few experiments in the workshop. Now it’s late, he lies asleep upstairs, and I sit at my desk in the living room. Codsworth is continuing his evening routine. Everything is as it should be. I stored the pack of mentats I found on a raider in the desk drawer. It’s tempting to take one, but this time I’ll concede to Valentine’s concerns, and get some rest.

[verdigrisprowl]

May 14 Dancitron Movie Night - Star Trek V: The Final Frontier

Prowl was warned ahead of time by Soundwave that there was going to be constant organic shadowplay in this movie. And after the fight against Unicron was immediately followed by a wave of movie nights with mind control, bugs crawling into heads, forced gestalt minds, needles in heads... Prowl decided he didn’t feel up to more makeshift exposure therapy tonight.

So he didn’t show up.

ItsyBitsySpyers *Soundwave quickly finishes nibbling his piece of the gummi dancing chestburster's tail and slams his visor down. Time for movie night - and a seat.* Specs ((bless)) Smokescreen This message has been removed. This message has been removed. ItsyBitsySpyers ((i'm gonna start at 8:25 so if y'all want snacks or whatever, get them)) Prowl *arrives* Specs ((awright)) ItsyBitsySpyers *Soundwave pings Prowl hello.*

[[Good evening.]] Prowl *pings back*

Hello, Soundwave. Specs *here comes a dragon! she looks exhausted, but she's brought the energon goodies as always.* Hello, Soundwave! ItsyBitsySpyers *She's to be greeted with cushions, bugs - this time, Buzzsaw tried to fancy them up a bit by cutting off bits of random plants as a garnish, based on what he saw on Earth cooking shows - and Soundwave's feelers helping her move the goodies to the counter.* Specs *bless this Soundwave. what a friend.* Oh! Thank you, Soundwave, Buzzsaw. Thank you! *she doesn't even get a full dragonloaf this time, it's more like a dragonbaguette* ItsyBitsySpyers ((*does the skeletor NYEH and laughs into her hands*)) [[Quite welcome. Still experiencing the aligned planets...?]] *She looks as tired as him.* Specs No, thankfully. Concursion only lasts a week. A bonded triad got lost out in one of the less-inhabited areas. Part of my job, as it were, is to make sure search parties passing through my area get fed and rested, so it was a busy week. At least they were found before they starved. ItsyBitsySpyers [[Do you require search assistance?]] ((wb)) Smokescreen Tonight's a Star War trek night, right sounds? //asbncv thanks ItsyBitsySpyers [[It is.]] ItsyBitsySpyers ((well, looks like a quiet night tonight. we're gonna get rolling)) Specs *the dragon blinks. she wasn't expecting to hear THAT!* Not this time, but... *pauses to lick her paw and smooth out the fur around her face* But if your offer stands for the next time, it would be appreciated. Smokescreen /He's going to go ahead and take his usual spot! He brought a few snacks to share- or just eat, himself/ ItsyBitsySpyers *Ah. Preserving her dignity, felinoid style? Or just dirty?*

[[He can allow it to stand.]] ((SHIT WAIT i forgot warnings uh where' smy file)) ((WARNINGS: Often nonconsensual invasive telepathy, passing ableist comment, Bones being species-ist, "nudity", flashing lights, birthing scene, shaky camera, monotheistic focus. Not to mention that the movie is just plain BAD. Badly written, badly filmed, badly edited. Hands down the worst of all six original Trek films. I'm so sorry for making you all sit through it.)) Specs *Yes.* You have my thanks, Soundwave. *she is really grateful! just also very tired and not making the words go.* ItsyBitsySpyers *Soundwave sends Prowl the name of the film and where to find the audio description file* *He still hasn't figured out what her alternate did.* Prowl *notices something off about the energy signatures in the room* My alternate isn't here tonight? ItsyBitsySpyers [[No. Not yet.]] *And that's probably for the best.* Omicron *Ice Queen pokes her head in, late, looking around* Me ((can we assume he was warned ahead of time? since that would be the reason for him not to show.)) ItsyBitsySpyers ((we can)) Smokescreen ... Huh, he isn't? I didn't look that way yet. Me ((o7)) ItsyBitsySpyers [[He's not. Police work doesn't always obey the hours we set for ourselves.]] Smokescreen Yeah- yeah, that's fair. Still, sucks to have to work when he usually gets to relax, right? But I guess every Cybertron's been pretty busy! ItsyBitsySpyers [[Naturally. And... yes. Yes, some of them have.]] Omicron ...? *the big predacon carefully sits in the bakc.... sneaks a lick on smokey as she passes* ItsyBitsySpyers *Without so much as fidgeting, let alone turning to look:* [[Greetings.]] Prowl Ah, all right then. Thank you for the audio description, Soundwave. *frowns* Smokescreen I don't know if mine's busier, or if I'm just taking on way too much work. Omicron hello Specs *the smol fluff chirps at the sound of Icy Claws, but doesn't get up- she's TIRED.* Omicron ....? *looks for the chirper? where is the fluffy?* Me ((i appreciate that they feel the need to specify "Yosemite National Park, Planet Earth." It implies that the audience might not necessarily know what planet Yosemite is on. Good immersion there.)) Specs *the fluffy is on all these nice cushions Soundwave has brought out for her. she is a cozy fluff.* Omicron *Ice Queen eyes the spot, debating if there's room to rest her head by the tiny friend* ItsyBitsySpyers [[Perhaps you could tell him what you have been up to, and then he would know whether you're doing too much.]] *Soundwave tilts his head to one side.* [[...Should he not have provided that?]] *Why is she frowning?* ((and agreed on the immersion point)) Specs ((bones is perfect)) *the fluffy dragon can move, or be moved, if Icy needs. she's just tired.* Omicron ((he is, human ratchet but not--PFFFFFTTT)) ItsyBitsySpyers ((when we get to the campfire scene remind me to tell you all a thing)) Specs ((Are they actually playing pool in a wet pool table)) ItsyBitsySpyers ((they are)) Omicron *watch big dragon steath herself over to rest her big head by fluffy dragon. broken horn makes it easier to sit by the cushions* Prowl Hm? Oh, no, no, you should have. That is... I appreciate that you did, but the Captain has been sharing his visual feeds with me. I'd been enjoying the opportunity. ItsyBitsySpyers [[Oh. Do... Should he provide one?]] *Pause.* [["Captain"?]] Smokescreen ... What exactly WAS that noise and how'd they make it Prowl The belch? Smokescreen Yeah, that I heard 'em before, but how exactly are they made? Prowl Are you able to? I didn't think to ask. Specs *the dragon gives Icy a sleepy lick on the horn. there. it is clean.* ItsyBitsySpyers [[...You ARE in HIS home.]] Omicron gas, not unlike how we, some predacons can produce fireballs Prowl A Klingon explained it to me as gas coming up from the tank, er, stomach. Smokescreen Gas? ... Wait, do their stomachs just make gas somehow? Like- is it some kinda weird food conversion thing? Prowl Yes, your home. Which is precisely why I didn't ask. To my knowledge, Soundwave, you don't trust me. ItsyBitsySpyers [[He doesn't.]] *Blunt, isn't he?* [[But you are a guest. And he is a host.]] Prowl I don't know that much about Klingon anatomy. ItsyBitsySpyers *Ping. She can have a feed from one of the overhead cameras... which he'll be removing from access to any greater part of the network, and later, completely digging out.* Prowl *appreciates the honesty* *pings a thank you* Me ((those dorks)) Specs ((DORKS)) Smokescreen These are advanced beans Prowl ((yesss best scene ItsyBitsySpyers [[Ah. The musical fruit. He has heard of this plant as an instrument.]] Smokescreen I wanna go camping like this ... wait this plant's an instrument? Also wait... Wait sounds I have a vegetable band to show you later ItsyBitsySpyers [[Apparently. Dried, they can be put in a hollow object and shaken.]] Prowl A simple but effective instrument. Smokescreen That sounds pretty fun- humans are pretty creative! Me ((wow way to make it dark kirk)) Omicron ((on phone, Icy's dosing <.<) ItsyBitsySpyers (( ;n; )) ((kk) Smokescreen Oh! I figured out energon marshmallows recently- they're not bad! But you can't toast 'em ItsyBitsySpyers ((SO FUN FACT in the novelization they expand on this "marsh melon" mistake of spock's and bones jokingly goes on and on about how his family member had a whole farm of marsh melons)) Me ((omg)) Specs ((HAHAHAHA)) Smokescreen ((pfpfff ItsyBitsySpyers [[He should say not. How many explosions did you go through to figure that out?]] Prowl Marsh melons. Smokescreen None! I'm not that dumb. ... Maybe once. ItsyBitsySpyers *Tiny trembling.* Smokescreen Life is but a dream sounds kinda poetic! Prowl *huffs in amusement at Spock* ItsyBitsySpyers [[...Is the satellite screaming.]] Prowl ...I think it did. ItsyBitsySpyers [[Life is more often a nightmare, if you ask him.]] Prowl Indeed. ItsyBitsySpyers *At least as of late.* Smokescreen ... Really Sounds? Are you okay? ItsyBitsySpyers [[Oh, yes. Quite fine, thank you. Merely thinking about the war.]] *Lies, lies, everywhere lies.* Smokescreen ... Is it about the Unicron thing? Blaster -wanders in, looking a bit tired- ItsyBitsySpyers [[The destruction of the Hall of Records.]] Smokescreen Oh. Oh yeah- I can agree with you on that. Blaster -sits in empty seat, and waves at Soundwave- ItsyBitsySpyers *Soundwave bobs his helm.* [[Good evening.]] [[Now is not the time for such jokes, doctor.]] Blaster Hello,...what did I miss? ItsyBitsySpyers [[A revolutionary Vulcan has seized control of a small outpost, captured three ambassadors, and demanded a Federation starship for unknown reasons.]] Smokescreen ... Maybe if it helps, Sounds, there were a lot of things we recovered from the Hall of Records in my universe. Maybe there's a few other things that survived in yours? ItsyBitsySpyers [[Hm?]] *Oh, right. His fib.* [[Yes. We've been recovering some... ancient files.]] Blaster Oh. Okay. -understands only half of what was said- Smokescreen Really? What kinda stuff? Did you find the covenant or something? Or maybe something else? I guess I shouldn't be surprised that that stuff upset you, too. ItsyBitsySpyers [[He hasn't found the covenant. You need not fly into a panic about whether or not he's worthy of possessing it.]] *Yet.* Smokescreen ... Why would I be panicked about that? You probably are worthy of it. ItsyBitsySpyers [[...Pardon. He must reset his audio receptors.]] *Because he didn't just hear that.* [[Say again?]] Smokescreen I mean, using the past to make the future better? I bet you'd do that, and I bet you'd try to record everything going on in there- you have a lot of data you could add that isn't in there, too. I would figure that'd be the kind of thing Alpha Trion would want. You'd probably never let it go if you got a hold of it, right? Specs ((HAH)) ItsyBitsySpyers *Amused huff at the screen.* Prowl Clever. ((this talk of the covenant reminds me, you owe me on our thread, smokey, didn't he bring the covenant to show prowl? Smokescreen //AAAA yeah lemme find that thread asdxc Prowl ((it was right before the unicron plot took off, no worries <3 ItsyBitsySpyers [[...He wouldn't want to, no. But if - er. Certain parties, demanded he let it go, he would - consider the circumstances. Otherwise, no. He would guard it like little else.]] *Basically if Primus strode up to him and said "burn it" he would have a crisis but probably obey. Otherwise? Nah.* Smokescreen And you're a strong bot, you'd be able to protect it pretty well! I'm pretty sure if Alpha Trion talked to you, like, at all, he would've put you in his will. You think you'll ever find your covenant? ItsyBitsySpyers [[...Why are you flattering him. What is it you need.]] Smokescreen ... I mean, I'm glad you kept Unicron from destroying my home, but that's honestly how I feel. ItsyBitsySpyers *Now outright staring at Smokescreen instead of the movie screen.* [[He does not understand.]] Prowl *would be staring herself if she could, this seems... strange* Smokescreen ... What's so hard to understand, exactly? You probably know practically everything about Cybertron where the Covenant cuts off. You'd be a great fit for writing down modern Cybertronian history, I bet. ItsyBitsySpyers *Something's wrong. This isn't Smokescreen. Or he's somehow lapsed into recharge mid-movie and this is an exhaustion dream. They had a whole argument about how he wasn't worthy. And Smokescreen's been hiding his copy from him for months. None of this is right.* Smokescreen ((wait they did ItsyBitsySpyers ((some while back iirc)) Smokescreen ((i remember sounds and primus but ItsyBitsySpyers ((smokescreen started it i think)) Smokescreen ((adsxvcbn he would ItsyBitsySpyers [[...He does know a great deal.]] *But not as much as some relics sitting here listening to the movies.* [[But he doubts that alone makes him worthy. If it did, he would have it.]] [[Or know where to look. And he does not.]] Smokescreen I mean, just 'cause you find it doesn't mean you're worthy, and vice versa. Is there any rubble in Iacon? Maybe it's hidden around there. ItsyBitsySpyers *If a sharp buzz could be a nasty laugh...* [[Iacon is still MOSTLY rubble.]] Smokescreen Well! There's lots of places where it could be, then. And I'll bet it'll pop up when it's needed most. That's how it works most of the time. ItsyBitsySpyers [[Then, as he said, it isn't time, as it hasn't popped up.]] Smokescreen Has anyone been around the area recently? It's not gonna pop up if no one goes there. ItsyBitsySpyers [[He often goes to the Hall of Records to inspect their new findings and recoveries.]] [[...They ARE in the brig.]] Smokescreen Huh. Maybe you pissed off Alpha Trion or something. He wasn't big on Megatron, maybe he thought you were in league with him and would alway be. Prowl It's likely unneeded at this point. We are managing quite well without the need for relics. ItsyBitsySpyers *(Barely) refrains from asking why she's still there, then.* Prowl *rude* Smokescreen ... Fair enough. But with the covenant and Sounds, he could teach an AWESOME history course. ItsyBitsySpyers [[He'll teach nothing. He's dead.]] Smokescreen I'm talking about you Prowl *huffs* Blaster -has probably fallen asleep where he's sitting- Prowl Why Soundwave? Smokescreen ... /He's putting a small cube of energon on top of Blaster./ Blaster -no movement- Smokescreen 'Cause he's old and was awake for most of the war- and has a pretty good memory! Specs *the dragon, too, is out like a light.* Prowl He is not the only Cybertronian alive during the war. Smokescreen ... /Putting another cube on blaster./ Omicron *Icy stirs, yawning wide* ItsyBitsySpyers ((there are some great editing errors here. watch the deck number progression in a little bit)) Blaster -still hasn't moved- Smokescreen But- Sounds, do you have a lot of the war recorded? Omicron ((I see a blaster, hiii!)) ItsyBitsySpyers [[He does.]] Smokescreen Exactly! Blaster ((hiiiii Prowl As do I. Smokescreen ... Do you wanna teach history, Prowl? Shocky *Shockwave enters, somewhat distracted looking and quickly takes a seat* Prowl Not at the moment. Smokescreen !! /Waving at Shockwave!/ Omicron ((and hi to others! don't mind icy sprawled on the ground. the predacon can be a good couch at least)) ItsyBitsySpyers *Soundwave bobs his head at Shockwave* Smokescreen Well- I figure Soundwave might be more interested. Shocky *He nods back in acknowledgement, giving a slight wave to Smokescreen back* Omicron *The predacon humms, head resting inner optics covers over.* Prowl Do you want to be a teacher, Soundwave? ItsyBitsySpyers [[He has some interest in educating others.]] *Not necessarily as a teacher, but...* Specs *the dragon makes a sleepy purr-chirp, getting Real Long and resting her tail on Icy* Shocky ((I won't be here for long, just saying hi really)) ItsyBitsySpyers ((the pop-in is appreciated!)) Smokescreen Yeah! I bet Sounds would be pretty awesome at teaching other bots. He's helped me with math before. Prowl Has he? Smokescreen Yeah! He sent me a bunch of documents, since I kinda missed out because of... You know. The war and stuff. Omicron *has a fluffy tail on her muzzle, happy predacon* Prowl But what about before the war? Surely you were educated during the Golden Age. Smokescreen I really didn't get that much math education. And my processor, uh- it kinda has trouble with this one part of math in particular. Prowl What part? ItsyBitsySpyers *This seems so familiar. It's a very, VERY good thing "the Captain" isn't here, yes. Yes, indeed.* Smokescreen ... Do we gotta talk about it out loud like this? Prowl Not at all. Smokescreen @Prowl: ::I can't do decimals or percentages or slag like that at all- I can't process 'em without having to write it out.:: Shocky *he has just now zoned in to the conversation* Nothing to be concerned over. Mathematics has been an age long struggle to many Smokescreen But I want to be able to get it! It's- wait are they showing THAT Prowl @Smokescreen: [[Ah. And Soundwave helped?]] ItsyBitsySpyers *Alarmed.* [[Is the spawn injured? It bleeds.]] Shocky A normal thing for organic emergence. Specs *sleepily* Blood keeps the babies alive, in eggs. There's always a little extra afterwards. Smokescreen @Prowl: ::Yeah! He gave me some documents so I could figure out how to do it manually. I still can't do it like- like how some other Cybertronians do, but I can do it, and that's a big step.:: ... Eggs? Shocky I do not believe they are formed in eggs Smokescreen Wait do humans lay eggs ItsyBitsySpyers *Not quite believing it, but if anyone knows, it's an organic - and a scientist who's probably pulled uncountable numbers of them apart* Shocky humans emerge live, or so extensive amount of evidence points towards Omicron eggs? Specs Dragons lay eggs. I dunno if humans do. Smokescreen Okay- but why do some organics lay eggs? Do vulcans lay eggs? Shocky apparently not Prowl There were no eggs in the flashback. Omicron I lay eggs? *puzzled waking up* Specs *the other dragon has fallen back asleep* Prowl I thought you were a Predacon? Shocky Such carelessness for their crew... But the pursuit of knowledge is admirable Omicron I am, but I can produce what are 'eggs' with the sparklings, hatchlings inside *Icy slowly stretches from the nap. curling her tail and flexing claws, might nudge some chairs sorry* Blaster -annnnnd wakes up to this- What just- -down go the cubes when he moves- ........... Prowl *startles at the clatter of the cubes falling* Smokescreen ... PFPffff ItsyBitsySpyers *Soundwave has a long, long vent. He had hoped that mess wouldn't happen. He wanted to go right to berth afterward, not mop...* Shocky *sharply looks at the source of the noise* Blaster ....how did those get there? Smokescreen I don't know! That's just what happens sometimes ItsyBitsySpyers *He wonders what it's like for other species, not knowing where their gods are located, if they actually exist.* Omicron *looks over, loosing the fluffy tail and curls her neck around to peer at mess?* Blaster I want to argue with that, but I'm just waking up. Smokescreen You need any help getting that cleaned up? Shocky I will extend my help to clean also. Prowl How can all organics have one god between them? They're not that alike are they? ItsyBitsySpyers [[They are not.]] Blaster I...think I might ItsyBitsySpyers [[He appreciates the cleaning work.]] Prowl *oh good, Prowl was going to volunteer Smokescreen clean it up, glad he volunteered himself* Smokescreen Well, yeah. I'd feel kinda bad leaving you to do it. Plus, it's free energon! ItsyBitsySpyers *...He still can't go recharge while they're there, but at least he won't have to put in the effort.* [[...Do NOT lick his floor.]] Smokescreen ... Oh. ItsyBitsySpyers [[If you are in need of refueling, there are PLENTY of refreshments atop the bar.]] Smokescreen Well, yeah, but someone else will drink that energon for sure. Prowl Don't lick the floor. Smokescreen There aren't that many bots brave enough to lick freshly spilled energon! And I'm just the type! Blaster Smokescreen No. Shocky ((I gotta go since i'm using phone data, but for this instance let us say shockwave stayed to help clean and make sure smokescreen didn't lick the floor)) Blaster ((kaaaay ItsyBitsySpyers ((gotcha! thank you for coming for what you could!)) Smokescreen ((pfff see you later! Blaster ((see you later! Smokescreen ... Where do you keep your towels, Sounds? Shocky ((Bye <3 )) Prowl Smokescreen, that's disgusting. You don't know what's on that floor. ItsyBitsySpyers [[Just behind the bar.]] Smokescreen Energon's on that floor. Prowl Besides the energon. *unimpressed frown* Blaster Smokescreen don't lick the floor ItsyBitsySpyers [[Ravage dragged a rusting titanium moose across that spot not six hours ago.]] [[Do you really want to lick it.]] Smokescreen ... Blaster ...oh...uh...can I get a towel too? Prowl Eugh. Smokescreen /He's just going ahead and getting the towels, and is starting to soak up the energon./ Blaster I have a feeling it got on Blaster too)) Omicron *shifts and her turn to screach, movies to bonk Smokey, and curl her tail around him to pull away from mess?* ItsyBitsySpyers [[Oh, don't "eugh". He was retrieving it for the hospital. They wanted to make sure it doesn't have plague of some sort.]] Prowl *don't tell Prowl you thought it had a plague, she will freak out, even if the floor was cleaned* ItsyBitsySpyers *Snaps back to the screen. Hold on. They found something?* Blaster !!!! Omicron ...???????? Prowl ...so there was someone there after all. Smokescreen /He's starting to put the towels on Blaster, as well!/ Blaster Uh...hi Smokey Smokescreen Hey Blaster! ItsyBitsySpyers [[A very good question.]] Prowl Why would their god--yes, thank you, Kirk. Omicron .......does that stink of something Bad Blaster Thanks for the towels? Prowl Yes you do. Omicron ...?! ItsyBitsySpyers *Suddenly uneasy shifting. Just an itty bitty bit.* Prowl It is a perfectly valid question. ItsyBitsySpyers *...HEY you know what needs doing? Putting away the snacks early.* Me ((i mean. not knowing who kirk is and shooting lasers around doesn't prove he ISN'T a god. he might not fit a given theology but that doesn't make him not a god.)) ItsyBitsySpyers *He'll just stand and do that.* Omicron *growls at screen, trying to not to lash tail in current spot* Me ((sometimes gods are not omniscient and are dicks. they're valid too.)) Prowl This is not a being that should be freed from his prison. ItsyBitsySpyers ((this is basically a remnant of the fact that originally shatner wanted a story where they thought they found god but found the devil - there was a LOT of executive meddling with this movie)) ((tbh this isn't the first god they've met anyway. they met apollo once)) [[No. He should be destroyed.]] Prowl ((i'm honestly ok with it being just a very powerful horrible being and not literally the christian devil Omicron ((*nods*) Blaster .......wow, okay, no Me ((oh i certainly wouldn't want it to be literally the christian devil. or literally any other human-made theological entity.)) ItsyBitsySpyers ((i am too, i'm just reciting fact)) Me ((i'm just saying. rude of them to assume it's not a god just because it doesn't have the same traits THEY expect out of a god.)) ItsyBitsySpyers ((this being got written more about in a novel later and i find that content far more interesting)) Omicron *looks over at blaster again, chirps a question, does he need help cleaning up?* Blaster -grabs a towel and starts cleaning himself off, ignoring the screen now- Prowl ((ah yes, true, after all, loki is just an ice wizard that fucked a horse Me ((HE SURE DID FUCK A HORSE.)) ItsyBitsySpyers [[All of this and now they are under attack.]] *It's like being interrupted by his alternate, the universe curse his existence.* [[It still lives?]] Prowl Not for long. ItsyBitsySpyers [[Good.]] [[They must leave. Now.]] Omicron pfffttt though yes, they should leave before that parasite reforms ......? ItsyBitsySpyers ((ARE YOU SERIOUS)) [[Pardon. It is occasionally difficult to maintain a signal this far from Earth.]] Blaster -only now glances over at the dragon- Yes? Omicron *glances over* need help? Blaster ...I don't think so? Did I miss any? Smokescreen /Once one towel is soaked, he's picking it up, and is wringing it over his mouth to try to get a bit of the floor energon./ Omicron (( I love this part) *Icy tries to smack that towl away!* *with tail!* ItsyBitsySpyers ((time marker: 10:30)) Smokescreen Hey- come on! Blaster Smokescreen! Tarantulas (( *applause, and a wave goodbye, sorry i wasn't here ic, heh* ItsyBitsySpyers ((np! take care <3)) Tarantulas (( <3 Smokescreen //<3 ItsyBitsySpyers *Anyway, here's Wonderwall.* Omicron No sparkling! Smokescreen I'm not a sparkling, come on Omicron (have a good night!) Prowl Smokescreen, that's disgusting. ItsyBitsySpyers *Soundwave is glad the business with hunting the god is over.*

[[Even the twins have better manners.]] Smokescreen waitwaitwait sounds can you put up wndrwll Omicron Yes you are, *Icy gets up and starts to twist around, lifting wings and tail up so not to knock someone one way to smokescreen* ItsyBitsySpyers [[He can.]] *But you know what he's doing? Not that.* Smokescreen I'm as old as Soundwave! And there's nothing wrong with trying not to waste energon. Omicron *snorts at that, still coming over* Prowl You're much older than that. Soundwave is only 25 million give or take, yes? *tilts her helm toward him* Smokescreen ... I'm like, 21 million. I think Prowl ... Blaster -he;s keeping the towels used on himself in his servo- When it's probably got things in it from the floor, yes there is Smokescreen ... I don't really know, I was in stasis for a while. I've eaten organic stuff, I'll be fine. Prowl ...are the differences between universe so extreme that you and my Smokescreen are completely different ages? Smokescreen Wait- is your version of me way older? Prowl He's my age, yes. Smokescreen ... And how old are you? Omicron ((Icy really wants to grab smokey and bring him outside to groom him you know, or move him away from mess)) Blaster You've eaten organic stuff. ItsyBitsySpyers [[You don't want to know that.]] Smokescreen Only once or twice! Blaster And how did that turn out for you? Smokescreen Not great! But I'm still here. Blaster I'm younger than you and I know better Prowl *huffs* Smokescreen ... And a loooong time ago, I had a run-in with Unicron and that was REALLY not fun. Omicron *predacon looom over Smokey* Smokescreen It was a dare. And it was still worth it. ..... /He's starting to pick up the soaking towels and back away./ Where should I put these, Sounds? ItsyBitsySpyers [[There is a bin for wet material near where the cleaning supplies were.]] Blaster -will take his towels over there as well- Smokescreen /Smokescreen's going over and dropping the wet rags, before grabbing a few more cleaning supplies to clean the floor!/ Blaster A dare to eat organic things? Smokescreen /He's trying to avoid getting groomed by a predacon again./ Smokescreen ... Yeah? Blaster You do know you don't have to do everything people dare you to do, right? Smokescreen I know I don't HAVE to, but I need them to think I can do anything. Prowl *Prowl isn't sure she wants to say her age lest someone freak out again like the last time. That was really uncomfortable* Blaster No. You don't. Smokescreen ((oh yeahhhh i need to ask my boss to buy this game for our stuff aszcxvb Omicron *Icy is not far from Smokey, at least she's not stalking* If you have a propper conversion tank you can eat organic things ItsyBitsySpyers ((I NEED THIS GAME SO BAD)) Smokescreen //IT LOOKS LIKE FUN! Blaster ((it does! Smokescreen I don't want bots thinking less of me 'cause I won't do a dare or something Blaster If they do then they're not the type of bot you need the rewspect of *respect Prowl *still using the visual feed, going to focus on this video* Smokescreen but I need the respect of every- anyway, it doesn't matter, 'cause I haven't done it in a while. Prowl You don't. Blaster You don't need the respect of everyone It won't happen Smokescreen ... I at least want bots to like me Prowl They won't. ItsyBitsySpyers [[Bots will think poorly of you no matter what you do. He should know.]] Blaster You can try your hardest to please everyone, and you'll only end up tired in the end Omicron It doesn't matter what you do, you can't impress everyone. You can kill yourself trying. Its best to focus on those you care about Smokescreen I mean, I know you will, Sounds, but I want other bots to like me, at least. Prowl And if someone said the only way they would like you would be if you harmed others? ItsyBitsySpyers [[He MEANS he is very, very familiar with being disliked. It does not decide what he does.]] Smokescreen ... But no one would say that Omicron or to take from things those that need? Smokescreen ... I mean, I can't do that. Prowl Megatron would say that. Blaster Daring you to eat things that shouldn't be put in your tanks counts You are hurting yourself doing that Smokescreen ... Well, I'd want to make sure those bots are okay. I don't want to hurt other bots. Prowl Harming yourself is still harming someone, Smokescreen. Omicron Prowl is right *still not far, waiting* Prowl Would you ask other people to do the things you do so you'll like them? Smokescreen What? No way. They're themselves, I'm me. I'd probably like them either way Blaster Smokey. I have a question. You might recognize it. Prowl *scowls* Blaster How long are you going to keep putting out more than you make back? Prowl So hurting yourself is fine but hurting others is not? Smokescreen Relationships aren't some kinda transaction- I'll give as much as I can if it means other bots'll be fine ... I mean, when you put it that way, it sounds bad. ItsyBitsySpyers *What madness. Of COURSE they're a transaction. It works perfectly well for him.* Blaster I'll talk to you later. I have to go home now Omicron Smokescreen, how about this. When you really need to help someone Smokey, and you Can Not, because you've hurt yourself too much to help them. What happens then? Blaster Good night Prowl *of course they are* Smokescreen Night, Blaster! It was nice seeing you! Prowl I can't do this. Good night, Soundwave. ItsyBitsySpyers [[Goodnight, Blaster. Prowl.]] *He doesn't blame them.* Omicron *Icy nods to prowl, and moves to try and grab Smokescreen with jaws, kidnapping time? please?* Smokescreen I should probably go, too. Night, Sounds. Thanks for the movie! Sorry about trying to lick the floor and stuff! Prowl Smokescreen... *she reaches out and pats him on one shoulder before getting up and leaving* Smokescreen /Aaaand he's grabbed!/ Wait- wait, come on, what's that about? ItsyBitsySpyers *Soundwave just sort of waves a hand goodbye at Smokescreen. He doesn't have the ability to argue about that tonight. It's just a goodbye instead.* Omicron *grings around the smaller bot, lifting him up, waves a wing at soundwave good night* V'Mm vaking vis. *fully intenting to sick her insectons workers on smokey to get the mech cleaned up* ItsyBitsySpyers *Nods.* [[Thank you.]] Omicron (XD thank you for the movie) ItsyBitsySpyers ((you're welcome)) Smokescreen You know you can't just take me away like that, right? /Still, he's not even fighting it right now. He's had worse!/ Omicron (want to move to tumblr smoke mun?) Smokescreen //Thank you very much! Also yeah that'd be good

[lupienne]

Comic Negan Fic Recs!

Alright, guys! It’s high time I start posting this again! As of last update (July ‘17 I believe?) there have been some fics that appear to have been deleted :(, so I removed those. But never fear, there are new additions.

At the beginning of every month, I’m going to repost this. New additions will be in italics (and most likely at the bottom).

Here’s a little list of Comic Negan (or at least comic-leaning) fanfiction! These are all great authors and entertaining fics. If you’re looking for that good ole original Negan fiction(with each author’s personal twist, of course)… check these out. And if you like them, give ‘em a warm fuzzy feeling with a like, favorite, kudos, reblog,shout-out or comment!  (List after the cut)

In no particular order:

Stigmatic by 217. Follow Negan’s POV as he leads the Saviors in what starts off as comic canon, before venturing into wonderfully AU territory. Also featuring 217’s most excellent OCs; she is truly a master at crafting real, well-rounded and interesting characters. She also has such a talent for writing Negan true to the comics and yet making her own unique version of his character as well. The plotline of this story is always moving forward as the Saviors travel through the highs and lows of life in the apocalypse. On ff.net On A03

217 has also done some AU series within the Stigmatic verse:

Phlegmatic: which is an AU take on Alice and Negan if they had met before the ZA. On ff.net On A03

Haematic which is another pre-ZA AU take where Negan struggles to raise his and the late Lucille’s daughter, Lulu (and her pet lobster, Crusty!), all by his lonesome. On ff.net On A03

Fics by Harleyquinzel. She has quite a few Negan fics, most of which are nice bite-sized reads and quite enjoyable. Here’s three of my favorites.

His Favorite Girl Smut involving Negan and his favorite girl… why, who else but Lucille the Vampire bat?

Making Like A funny and sexy Negan/Rick fic.

One Night Stand Negan and Olivia smut. Hell yeah.

And here is her complete TWD list

A Wolf at the Door by Misterkingdom: A very well-written fic where Negan makes sure Rick knows who the King Dick Motherfucker is around here.

Beautiful Tragedy by 217: Yet another gem by this master writer of ole Negan. However, RM (aka ‘Rude Motherfucker’) the OC of this story, doesn’t see Negan in the most flattering light. One of Negan’s (aka ‘Dumpy’s) wives, she uses his perks to support her ongoing drug addiction, that is, until Negan takes note…and he doesn’t approve. The dialogue in this story is absolutely a riot, as RM’s mouth and thoughts are every bit as vulgar and outrageous as Negan’s! On ff.net On A03

217 also has quite a few shorter fare for those that balk at lengthier stories (but trust me, they are worth every word!) My personal favorites are The Cleansing which is a pitch-back affair, Negan’s Number What? (a birthday present to me a few years ago, and the hottest Negan/Sherry smut EVER!), and Non-NEGotiable which is a Stigmatic smut where Negan loses a bet and his ass to Alice. On ff.net On A03

The Life of Negan & Lucille by TeamCarlisle: Based off the ‘Here’s Negan’ backstory, it’s Negan and Lucille’s pre-apocalypse days before it all fell apart. Sweet and yet heartbreaking, it’s a treat to see Negan in his pre-Savior days. But get your tissues out for this one!

Recollection by 217: Another goodie by 217, this is based off the ‘Here’s Negan’ backstory and contains part of his life with Lucille. On ff.net On A03

Embracing the Apocalypse by Embracetheapocalypsewithme (SomewhatSlightyDazed) Sanctuary and the Saviors has gained a new member, Rebecca, who struggles to find a foothold in this new society, but soon has captured the attention of Negan. He himself has been newly reinstated as the Savior’s leader and is also on unsure ground, unlike his previous bout of leadership. The two share a similar sense of humor and a need for a new start, but nothing is ever easy in the post-apocalyptic world.

This is yet another story that captures the charm, awkwardness and humor of Comic Negan, and features a very funny OC as well. Very much worth a read!

SomewhatSlightyDazed also has several shorts (mostly smutty, but a few aren’t.) They’re great for a quickie. A quick read, that is. ;) My personal favorites are: Post-Apocalyptic Driving School, Guys Like Him (Olivia and Negan, always a treat!), and Double-Dare (Smutty threesome with Negan and his wives. Yum!)

Through the Valley by Dusty Cookie Another merry jaunt into Sanctuary and the lives of the Saviors. Several Saviors, while out on a run, spot a female apparently living all on her lonesome and think she might be a good asset for Sanctuary. Now Negan just has to convince her she has a place there, and our story begins. :)

Dusty writes an absolutely fantastic Negan and her OCs are also well-written and interesting. Her dialogue and overall writing style is also so entertaining, witty, and just a pleasure to read. Try Chapter 1, and you’ll be hooked! On ff.net on A03

Dusty also has several short fics that are all equally great… but watch out for that catty Miss Fiona in The Hand that Feeds!

Tender Prey by bigcatsandkatanas I’m very bad and haven’t reviewed this one yet. I haven’t read a lot of them, so maybe it’s a bit pre-mature to say, but I think this is my favorite Regan fic. We have a bit more of a humble and lonely Negan due to his incarceration by good ole Prick Grimes, and it makes for one smutty tale I adore. Negan is written really great in this and despite being mostly smut, it’s also got some nice character moments for Negan. I really like it.

Gifts by redheadedwhat A nice little Negan/OC smut for your reading pleasure. Some humorous bits and of course, some very lovely smut.

Hurt by opheliadawnwalker3 Perhaps leaning more towards TV Negan, this is still a really good (and heart-wrenching) short about Negan and Lucille and her very bad news.

Satellite Days by Kinkozan After the Whisperer War, Negan has been living in an old outpost from the Savior days, and he finds himself in the company of Toni, another survivor who isn’t quite welcome around her old communities anymore either. They must try to survive in their new environment, as well as survive each other.

Backspin by Kinkozan Negan’s wife Charli’s plans of giving him a much-deserved spanking and trying to assert herself in the relationship might come back to bite her in the ass. Smut and angst.

Lupienne’s Negan fanfictions. Here’s my additions to the Comic Negan bookcase. I have a long WIP involving Negan and the boring domestic affairs of his wives, as well as a few shorter reads that are mostly of the smut variety. On A03 On ff.net (I don’t have them all on there, but if you prefer reading on this site…)

Enigmatic by 217: Based off Here’s Negan 15, where Negan receives a nasty wound from a fellow survivor. Upon going to clean out his wound, Negan meets an OC who is all too eager to give him some ‘healing.’ On ff.net On AO3

Love(d) by Dusty Cookie A pre-ZA short with Negan and Lucille. Dusty doesn’t just tug at your heartstrings, she rips them right out of your body.

WIP by Metal Butter Metal Butter mentioned a prisoner Negan fic they were writing, and upon my request, posted a snippet of it! It’s not complete, but it’s awesome just as it is. I love the way Negan is written as he narrates from his prison cell. Also contains shades of Regan. Yum!

In the Twilight Kingdom by Embracetheapocalypsewithme (SomewhatSlightlyDazed) Filled with grief over his recently deceased Lucille, Negan struggles to live and find a reason for doing so in the dangerous new world of the apocalypse.

Decomposition by 217: “Do you know what decomposition is? Answer the goddamn question.” A dark short of Negan’s thoughts as Lucille claims another life.

Bedtime Stories by Embracetheapocalypsewithme (SomewhatSlightyDazed): What happens when Negan finds out some of the Sanctuary women have been writing porn about him?

Wounds to Mend by Lupienne: A short based off events in Here’s Negan 14. Sherry tends to an injured Negan’s wound (with a little sexual healing involved.)

Last Chance Revival by 217. This fic follows an AU, non-ZA Negan as he tends bar in a rough part of town, where the highlight of his night is watching quirky OC’s Murphy’s ass leave the bar in her tight leopard print spandex. On ff.net On AO3

Heart in a Blender by Bigcatsandkatanas. A Negan/Rick fic set in a non-apocalyptic AU verse. Negan, lonely and despondent after his divorce with Lucille, decides to take a chance and use a dating app. When he accidentally matches with Rick Grimes, it’s the start of an awkward friendship (and maybe more?) Bigcatsandkatanas writes an excellent Negan, from his personality to his dialogue.

I Bless the Rains Down at Sanctuary by Redheadedwhat. Negan’s wife Tallulah discovers the hilarity of a drunken Negan. And an important question is pondered…just what did happen to the band members of Toto after the apocalypse?

Exhaust by Spliced-up Angel. An AU take on All out War. What if Negan hadn’t lost that last battle? Told from Carl’s POV, the young Grimes struggles to adapt to Negan’s rule over Alexandria. Since the story is all from Carl, Negan isn’t painted in the most flattering light. His dialogue is hilarious and poor Carl finds himself in a few embarrassing situations due to Negan’s lack of shame.

The tumblr Masterlist for Dusty-cookie. Suitable for liking, rec’ing and reblogging!

Dixon Dallas by 217. An AU smut involving Negan as a porn star :D

Sometimes You Just Need A… by Lupienne. My latest fic. It’s a fluffy short with platonic Negan/Rick.

Priorities by Dusty Cookie. A fluffy short, perfect for snuggling up with on a cold winter day!

Happy Fucking Birthday by Dusty Cookie. Negan gives the present of smut to his favorite birthday girl.

Careful What You Wish For by Dusty Cookie. More glorious smut! I only wish for more!

The tumblr Masterlist for Embracetheapocalypsewithme. Great for reblogging and giving this writer more exposure. Do it! 

An Enemy of the Crows by redheadedwhat. A chance encounter with a crow will change Negan’s life forever. :)

Don’t Look Back by Lupienne. Lucille’s last hours as she lays dying from her illness.

Cursed Land by Embracetheapocalypsewithme (SomewhatSlightlyDazed on AO3). This tale begins with a map with a blacked-out section Negan refuses to speak about… a fic to read with all the lights on!

The Love You Take by Embracetheapocalypsewithme (SomewhatSlightlyDazed on AO3). A lonely, exiled Negan investigates mysterious music he keeps hearing at night…

Yes, Mistress by Embracetheapocalypsewithme (SomewhatSlightlyDazed on AO3). Negan gets some new jewelry for Sherry to wear. She isn’t exactly enthused about it…but Negan can be pretty convincing ;) Glorious smut!

I’ll Always Be With You by Maggie Monster. Lucille has passed on, yet she has never left Negan’s side.

Alright! That’s it for this update! There’s some really good fics here, if I do say so myself. We need some more Comic Negan writers in the game though! Come on, people! ;) (And by all means, if you have a comic Negan fic, or know of one…be sure to let me know.)

For now, enjoy the fics and don’t be shy about commenting if you like any of them! Writers appreciate it so much.

And if you’d like, please reblog this post to give these authors some more exposure. :) See you in February!

[metaphysicalfrauds-blog]

Little Lu ~ Chaos In Pandoras Box ~ scam artist and bully.

She is what people call a conjurer which is complete bullshit as I have fallen for this scam way to many times to count its the supposed art of attaching any spirit or being you want mythical beasts whatever you can think of which sounds to good to be true because it is to a piece of jewelery or to yourself using your body as an attachment piece which is called direct binding. I will admit I am who she is targeting on her tumblr Bianca Michelle Barnes but alot of which she is saying is mostly twisted since It started because I was having trouble with a past seller named carmen marie laughlin and curtis keisler from magical menagerie another conjuring service and I was stupid and had fallen for again and bought a custom conjure from foxx hollow - meta foxx who is good friends with Lu one thing I want to say is that every conjurer is affilated and close knit even if they hate each other and if you piss just one conjurer off or do something wrong unintentionally they have a group on facebook where they talk shit about you once again what a lovely community the metaphysical is anyway It started with me getting a reading for a supposed vampire and the first one wae all like he loves you he is all romantic etc etc and then the second was he hates yoi he wants you to die and awful things I would rather not say. I got upset understandable as I had also attached this supposed imaginary vampire to myself got him removed and then went to paypal to get a refund for the reading which had been done and then curtis lost the plot in his words because he was concerned about his money. I tried to ring them in america to apologise but then they said they would never work with me because I was to much trouble then meta fox went to carmen and curtis after I said I had difficulty and decided she wouldn't have anything to do with me and said some mean things to me and then this other friend of hers black lotus Britt Em who is a bitch btw unfriended me on facebook but she has no place in this story anyway then meta fox went to Lu who I never had anything to do with I sent her a few messages talking about conjuring and her listings but I never impersonated her and I am not this awful toxic schemey person she is saying I am. I wanted to write my actual true story down as tumblr won't remove her posy and she has millions of these spiritual people reblogging which is just stupid and I am aware this is stooping down to her level but I am sick of being demonised because or this silly make believe metaphysical community and I also have no idea what she is talking about when she says I have been in this community since 2012 I was like not even 13 and I started this whole silly metaphysical journey due to my mental health and living situation. So yeah please do not fall into her trap or buy any of her items I mean if you want to by all means go ahead but its not going to do much for you and its expensive. and it is completely unfair for her to have said all those nasty things about me especially about being a mentally unstable individual who wants to impersonate and hurt everyone and get people involved in my toxic schemes. I never did any of that and I had also been being impersonated aswell and there have been so many problems with sellers attacking each other and clients unhappy that its stupid to blame everything onto me.

of her friend all connurers are close knit and if you do something they have a group in which they talk badly about you I was like 14 or 13 years old wh and its just stupid that theu sell to anyoen with a credit card I have been vulnerable etc etc dont fall for it

nasty things hing of which she said

[allonsysilvertongue]

Chasing Hope

Summary: “If I ask you to name all the things you love, how long will it take for you to name yourself?” A story on finding hope, forgiveness and love in a world they never imagined they would survive. Post-MJ. Previously

14. Deserter

"I promise I shall never give up, and that I’ll die yelling and laughing."

— Jack Kerouac 

Haymitch glared at their guest until his line of sight was blocked by Effie's head. She stood in front of him, her palm warm against his folded arms.

"Let her explain," Effie advised, trying to soften the palpable tension in the room.

"What's there to explain? She left the kid with Annie," Haymitch grumbled loud enough that Johanna scowled.

"I need space, okay?" she raised her voice and Effie sighed, moving away to let them talk it out. Peeta reached out to steer her next to him and Katniss, and safely away from them. "You've no idea what it's like being in the same house with a baby."

"He's not still a baby, right?" Katniss frowned. "Finn's - what? - 8, maybe 9 months old?"

“You left Annie alone with the kid,” Haymitch cut in.

Johanna let out a breath and sank onto the chair.

"I did," she rubbed her face angrily and for a wild moment thinking that she was crying, Haymitch's heart lurched.

The last time he had seen her cry was a year after she won when she stormed Twelve's Penthouse and attacked Finnick for never telling her about the prostitution of victors until it was too late for her and her family.

"What do you want to hear? That I'm fucking sorry?" Johanna glared at him.

"There is no need for that kind of language," Effie interjected, taking a step forward once more. "If Katniss had not spotted her sitting by the fountain... Johanna regrets her action, surely you can see it?"

"She should be, she deserted them," Haymitch continued glaring.

Johanna scoffed. "Guess I learnt it from you when you deserted the three of us in the Capitol. Remember that?"

Effie gasped, her hand shot to grip Haymitch's. Peeta's fingers twitched and in a second, he began to tap them against the side of his thigh in a rhythmic gesture. Katniss stared hard; surprised that Johanna would bring that up.

The house plunged into an uncomfortable silence. His stomach roiled and he began to breathe heavily. The weight of Effie’s hand around his wrist was suddenly unwelcomed and he wanted to shake it away but she was just trying to calm him.

He wasn’t … angry. If anything, the guilt became more profound. He had been trying to move on with his life and while he always knew that it would be something he would carry with him throughout his life, he wasn’t expecting to be confronted with it today of all days.

“Johanna…” Effie called her softly, as if she was approaching a wounded animal but that quickly fell on deaf ears.

Johanna’s gaze was fixed on Haymitch when she said, “you made a promise to Finnick, too.”

Haymitch made a noise under his breath and dropped on the chair, running his hand tiredly down his face. It was a timely reminder because he had promised Finnick before he left with the squad to the Capitol. That boy was his as much as Katniss and Peeta is his, same as Johanna.

He couldn’t be there in Four and in Twelve at any given time but he could have done more. When he remembered, he would call them, at times twice a month or once every week but it was always to ask after Annie and the kid. Johanna was head-strong and resolute the way Katniss could be, but like Katniss, she could also break. He should have paid her some attention, he could have asked her how she was doing even if like him, she wouldn’t have given away much.

He could have visited them, more than just that one time when Finn was born. He had promised Finnick he would take care of his family and he wasn’t doing a good job of it, leaving the responsibilities squarely on Johanna’s shoulders.

“I should have done more,” he muttered.

Effie looked stricken. “I could have done something as well. I could have visited and lend a hand.”

“You could have,” Johanna shrugged and exhaled. “I feel like shit coming here, alright? Haymitch needs to keep an eye on his precious bird,” she shot Katniss a look which Katniss returned with a disdainful scowl, “and he couldn’t drag you all the way to Four without permission. I mean, I get it but – “

She stood up abruptly only to perch herself on the window sill.

“I want to live and have fun,” she glowered at her boots, unable to look them in the eye. “I can’t even go to the bar and bring a guy home because Annie doesn’t want strangers in the house and if I’m gone the night, she worries her head off thinking I won’t be coming back like Finnick didn’t. Stupid man, he had to go and get himself killed, and now I’m saddled with his widow and his kid – it makes me angry because I can’t live my fucking life but it’s fucking wrong to think that way cause the guy’s dead and if he had a choice he’d rather be here so I shouldn’t be complaining. Annie’s family and so is the kid, right? And I don’t have many of those – family and friends. So yeah,” she shrugged again, glaring at each of them in turn as if daring them to call her out for actually sharing how she felt, “I feel fucking rotten and it makes me look like the bad guy.”

Haymitch exchanged a look with Effie, expecting her to have something comforting or useful to stay but she seemed as helpless as he was. It was Katniss who surprised them.

“I don’t think it’s wrong to think that way or feel that way,” she said. Katniss hesitated for a brief moment, until Peeta gave an encouraging nod before she went on to share. “I know what it’s like to step in and be the one to hold everything together. My dad died in the mines and my mum was worse off than Annie. I had Prim,” she swallowed, not looking at Johanna, “to take care off. Just like you have Finn… Sometimes I feel like it’s a burden I shouldn’t carry but that doesn’t last very long.”

Johanna crossed her arms in front of her, watching Katniss curiously.

“Did you run off like I did when it gets too much?” Johanna smirked.

“In a way…” Katniss answered. “I ran off to the woods with Gale to hunt for a few hours. Maybe that’s what you need, too. You have to find your woods.”

Johanna huffed, staring out of the window.

“I’m going to call her. She must be losing her head,” she muttered, walking in the direction of the phone.

Haymitch lingered at the sitting room in his own house. Peeta and Katniss left to check on their other three guests back at Peeta’s house.

“Johanna needs a break. That is all,” Effie said. “I have been so caught up in my own healing that – “

“Don’t,” Haymitch growled a warning. “It ain’t on you.”

“They are our responsibility as well. It is not just Katniss and Peeta next door. But… Johanna and Annie are not staying around here and we just forgot. That’s the truth, isn’t it? We forgot that they might need our help, too.”

“Since when did we decide to adopt all these kids?” Haymitch snorted.

“All these kids and a grandchild,” Effie teased.

Haymitch wrinkled his nose but he was quick to say, “So you’re a grandma. I’ll be sure to let Finn call you that when he’s older.”

“You are the worst,” Effie teased. “I should visit them.”

“We should visit Four,” Haymitch corrected, “and we should make a practice of it. Thoughts?”

Effie smiled. “I think that is marvellous.”

There was no discussion on when that would be but Haymitch assumed that once Johanna is ready to leave, Effie would follow. He would just have to ensure that the project here in Twelve would be in capable hands while he was gone and he would have to inform the city that he would be leaving Katniss unattended for a while. With more than a year after her trial and the progress she was making, Haymitch was hoping for some leniency on that front. Katniss no longer require constant supervision after all.

While Johanna was here, it seemed that she fully enjoyed her time without the responsibility of caring after a toddler. She had dragged Effie together with Cressida and a wholly reluctant Katniss for a night out. Haymitch remained awake, sitting by the porch as he waited for their return and when the clock went past midnight with no sign of either of them, he was tempted to search for them himself.

He saw their silhouette an hour later. Katniss was supporting an inebriated Johanna while Effie guided a tipsy Cressida by the crook of her elbow down the path of Victor’s Village.

Haymitch did not think they would be foolish enough to repeat this scene again but it happened the night after. Effie went to keep an eye on Johanna more than anything else and despite her reluctance, Katniss went out of loyalty to the woman who was filling Finnick’s shoes.

“No more getting drunk,” Haymitch scowled as he stood by the doorway of the guest bedroom while Effie removed Johanna’s shoes. “You too, sweetheart.”

“I am not drunk, thank you very much,” Effie retorted.

“Can’t you think of something else to do with Jo other than the bar?”

She tossed him a look, a very amused one. “I never thought I’d see the day when a request to stop frequenting a bar would ever come from you.”

“I’m gonna go back to Finn and Annie,” Johanna slurred and belched, much to Effie’s horror. “I won’t – I’m not giving up on ‘em. I like them and Annie’s my friend. Like you,” she patted Effie’s cheek.

“She’s fucking gone,” Haymitch chuckled.

“And Finn’s so cute,” Johanna declared, something he was sure she would never be caught dead admitting out loud. “Wha’cha think, Trinket? He’s the cutest baby.”

“Yes, he is,” Effie indulged. “Go to sleep now.”

Effie reached over to turn on the bedside lamp, something she often did even when she slept in his bed. There was something about complete darkness that made her anxious, and he assumed, Johanna as well.

“Hey,” Johanna grabbed her wrist and tugged hard, causing Effie to lurch forward with her face inches away from the young woman.

Haymitch took a step just in case in her drunken haze Johanna might mistake Effie for someone else or mistook her for a threat.

“Trinket,” she mumbled and Haymitch relaxed a little. “Remember what I said to you in that cell?”

Effie exhaled shakily, the reminder of prison was never something pleasant or a topic she willingly talked about.

“What did you say to me? There were plenty…”

"If I die …,” Johanna paused to burp but Haymitch doubted it was that that made Effie grimace. It was likely the mention of her hypothetical death. “If I die… I want to die yelling and laughing, instead of crying like a fucking baby."

"Yes, I remember."

"I think that's how I'm gonna live my life from now," Johanna vowed. “I’ll make sure every day is gonna be kickass and I’m gonna teach Finn everything ‘cause it’s my job now. Finnick would want me to.”

“That’s good, Johanna,” Effie nodded, brushing her hair back. “Always forward, yes? We live our lives now.”

She nodded and turned on her sides, clutching the bolster close to her chest.

“Goodnight,” Effie said to the now sleeping woman.

In the Godfather’s novel, Peter Clemenza says, “May we live our lives, so that when we die we are smiling & while everyone else is crying like a fucking baby.”

A/N: The mention of Johanna crying in the Penthouse/attacking Finnick was in reference to Chap 19 of Between Lives, if you wanna check that out. S o you know the drill, reviews are cotton candy and leaving me one will make my day. Tell me what you make of Johanna being in Twelve. Poor Jo, she had too much on a plate, being somewhat of an adoptive mother to Finn.

[ezra-blue]

You’ve Got Something - 44

For @baronvonriktenstein‘s Messy!AU

44: Heroes

It’s not so hard to do the right thing.

TRUST ARC - PART 14

Word Count: ~4400

44: Heroes

The big window was dark with black clouds when Gat pushed the door open, and the apartment was dark but for a single lamp on beside the sofa. Hazel was seated on the edge of the cushion, his elbows on the coffee table, gazing at several sharply-creased pieces of paper – likely letters. Gat silently shut the door behind him and crossed the room to sit beside him, a hand's distance between their hips, his palms on his knees.

Hazel didn't even look at him. His lips were sealed tight, his gaze didn't even flinch from his wide-eyed stare at the correspondence on the table. Gat didn't have to ask if he was angry. He knew.

He waited.

Hazel didn't say anything for a few minutes. Finally, abruptly, unprompted, he spoke: “I tried to pay the bills.” Hazel picked up one of the letters. “Electricity was due. Cable, too. Lucky for me, rent ain't up for another week, but I tried to get that with the money I had left.” Gat nodded, and Hazel finally looked to him, tears in his eyes. “You got 'em all.”

Gat nodded again. Hazel slapped his thigh. “That wasn't our arrangement! Y'said y'd work and pay half!” A few fat tears rolled down Hazel's cheeks, and Gat winced his eyes shut. His drawl was more pronounced, so Gat knew he was wrought up; he hadn't expected Hazel to get this emotional, though maybe he shouldn't have been surprised.

“My work is enough to cover all of it.”

“You're workin' three jobs!” Hazel snatched up a few of the letters, which Gat recognized as pay stubs. “Y'hadn't been home in weeks, so I started openin' your damn mail so I could forward ya the important stuff wherever the hell y'were, and what do I find but three different pay stubs!”

“I've been home.” Gat hung his head. “You've been out. I've been busy.”

“Y'ain't called or texted or nothin'!” Hazel smacked the sofa. “But of course you ain't! You work your own stupid ass like a God-damned mule, like you don't need to eat or sleep or even just have five minutes for your own damn self, how the hell would you make time for little ol' me?!”

“Hazel, I did it for you.”

“I know ya did, ya idjit!” Hazel hit his thigh this time, and Gat couldn't look at him. “Every damn one I called, they told me! The water bill, 'your partner covered it for ya,' electricity, 'Mr. Hawk made the payment for ya,' the damn landlady said you came by personally to make sure it got paid early! She told me you said you wanted to take care of that for me!” Hazel was shaking a little and swatting at Gat's arm for punctuation. It didn't hurt, though Gat was reasonably certain Hazel was trying to hurt him, just a little. “And you couldn't just – just -- come home and talk to me!” He stopped hitting him, facing him and glaring at him, demanding Gat's honesty. “You knew, didn't'tcha? About Professor Nii? You knew he was stringing me along?”

Gat shook his head. “I didn't know. I suspected.” Hazel grabbed his knee and squeezed, and Gat couldn't tell if he was grabbing for purchase or still trying to hurt him. “His methods... that he would hold that over you, and then say he's doing it for a good reason... It seemed untrustworthy.”

“Why didn't'cha say that?!” Hazel slapped his leg this time. Gat caught his wrist and held it firmly.

“You don't like to be told you're wrong.” This caught Hazel up short. His breath hitched like he was being choked, and Gat released his arm to rub his hand down his back. “I wanted you to be right. But I prepared in the event he was wrong, to make sure your safety net was never taken out from under you.”

“That's...!” Hazel hiccuped. “Y'did all that... overworkin' yourself, sneakin' around and payin' my bills without tellin' me, just to preserve my stupid pride?” Gat didn't answer. He didn't have to. Hazel broke down sobbing, scraping at his eyes with his hands, and Gat let him sob openly for a moment, then rubbed up and down Hazel's back again. Hazel tried to shove his arm off, but Gat didn't let him push him.

“It's just us. You don't have to be proud for me.” Gat gathered Hazel into his arms, pulling him from the sofa and against him, and held him to his chest, and Hazel gave in and crumpled into his shoulder, weeping.

Hazel cried onto his shoulder for a few minutes, and Gat held him there patiently, keeping his back straight and letting his tears fall onto Gat's shirt. When he'd calmed, Gat eased him back and looked into his face. “You should know that the information you gave to that Professor... he used it to break his ex up with his new flame, and to destroy his brother's confidence.”

Hazel swallowed hard, but shook his head. “I ain't surprised, considerin' how he played me.” He bowed his head, eyelashes still wet with tears fanned across his cheeks as he thought. “I gotta put things right, or try to. I got an idea.” He lifted his head, still collecting himself, but some of his pride was giving his face form again, putting determination in his expression. “Will ya stand with me this time instead of behind me?”

Gat smiled and slid his hand into Hazel's. “Always.”

Sanzo could feel the first few drops of rain touching on his knees and shoulders. He tipped his gaze up for a moment, then back down to the cigarette in his hands. Rainy days always made him feel less like a human than usual, less like interacting, less like doing anything, but he still felt sick and miserable from the night before, so he wasn't sure how much lower he could go. Being at work was better than sitting at home under his fathers' heavy stares and muted sighs, but it wasn't like there was anything for him to do. Hassan had already taken care of the inventory, and the books didn't need reconciled yet. He didn't trust himself to talk to customers -- even he knew he was too far gone for that -- so all he could do was sit out behind the back door and chain-smoke. Hakkai hadn't come in (still shaking it off, he supposed), and the other bakers were all leaving him alone.

All but one, anyway.

Abruptly, the back door flew open and Hassan poked his head out. "You're still here, Mister Sanzo?" He whistled and stepped out, hands tucked in his pockets. "You can go home, you got PTO and all."

"I wouldn't do anything at home, either." Sanzo blew a smoke cloud and watched it dissipate in the heavy air. "I'm not paying myself for this. I'm just here because I want to be."

Hassan put his hands on his hips. "You just don't wanna be anywhere else, huh?" He clicked his tongue. "Man, Sharak was right. You and Mr. Cho are kind of hopeless."

Sanzo smashed his cigarette on the wall. "Get bent. I don't know why everyone else is so bent out of shape about the shit I decide to do in my life, anyway."

"Mostly 'cause we care about you." Hassan, unimpressed, shrugged. "Sharak does, I know that. The girls and guys in the shop do. It's pretty plain for anyone to see you're a lot more miserable than usual."

"I reiterate my previous 'get bent.'" Sanzo lit a fresh cigarette. "I'm fine." Hassan raised an eyebrow as Sanzo dispassionately dragged on the smoke. “Things happen, things change. There's nothing you can do but get over it.”

“Things don't just happen, y'know.” Hassan crossed his arms. “You can do stuff to try and change, or stop it.”

“It's not important. You're Buddhist, aren't you?” He sneered. “Muichimotsu. Hold nothing. Isn't that right?”

Hassan raised an eyebrow. “I'm not Buddhist, Sharak is. But that's not how she explained that to me. That's for stuff like possessions. It's why monks wear clothes assembled from scraps, because they don't make or buy things, they just accept discarded things.” He set his hands on his hips. “So, yeah, grabbing after possessions makes you unhappy and keeps you from reaching Nirvana, but you didn't own that kid. You couldn't own him if you tried.”

Discarded things. The words tasted like copper on the back of his tongue as Sanzo rolled them around in his mouth. Still, he sniffed and retorted, "I don't see the difference. Worldly possessions. People. Nothing I can keep."

"Ugh." Hassan shook his head. "I hate to say it, boss, but, I liked you better when he was around. Have fun sulking." He dipped back into the kitchen and let the door fall shut behind him, and Sanzo heaved a sigh and started to fish for another cigarette.

"Sure you did. Everyone did." His pack was empty, and his hand already felt cold. The spattering drops began to fall faster, and Sanzo briefly considered going inside as the rain began to dampen his hair. It was probably better than sitting out in the wet and catching a cold. There might not be anyone to fuss over him or bring him chicken soup (at least, edible chicken soup) if he did. Just as he got to his feet, he heard a rattle in the alley.

This time, when he spun around, there was a shadow waiting at the other end. Sanzo rolled his shoulders back and braced himself, as the other came closer and Sanzo recognized Nataku. The slight man studied Sanzo for a moment, resignation plain in his languid gaze, before removing his reading glasses and putting them in his back pocket. "Kouryuu Sanzo." Sanzo felt his given name sting at the hairs on the back of his neck, like the words had been said by some booming, unimaginable presence rather than a scrawny-looking college student. "Do you remember what I told you?"

Sanzo, despite his instincts nipping at his neck and arms telling him to turn tail and run, now, sneered and grounded his heels on the concrete. "You're going to pull this, are you? Whatever I had with Goku is none of your business. Screw off."

Nataku merely blinked Sanzo's ire off. "I'm afraid I have to contradict you. Where Goku is involved, it is my business. I promised him I'd take care of him. And I warned you." He inhaled, then cracked the knuckles on his right hand into his left palm, repeating with gravel in his voice: "I warned you."

Nataku exhaled, his shoulders sinking. Sanzo blinked. When he opened his eyes, Nataku was there. Fist clenched for a bullet strike. Too close! He didn't twist back in time, and Nataku's fist grazed his nose, not enough to break it but enough to make it bleed. Sanzo ducked as Nataku swung at him again, staggering back with blood streaming down his face. Nataku's expression hadn't shifted.

As if he was bored doling out vengeance.

Bored as he struck at Sanzo from the left. Sanzo dodged, tripping over a crate but catching himself. The bakery door swung open, someone gasped an 'oh, shit!' and yanked the door shut.

Bored as he swung an uppercut. Sanzo stumbled another step back, hearing the street closer, the noise of passing cars and the rain pattering the asphalt and his pulse thudding in his ear.

This was nothing to him. It was as if Nataku weren't throwing his life away by committing a premeditated felony.

Nataku made to sweep Sanzo's legs, but Sanzo half-jumped over it and let Nataku's kick hit the inside of his ankle, then stomped on his foot to trip him up. Nataku was unfazed, stepping in to knee Sanzo in the jaw. Sanzo barely dodged, stumbling back but grounding himself, lifting his fists like a boxer as he strained to catch his breath. Nataku was unfazed, steady, as he advanced again.

"You could try to defend your actions," he murmured over the soft scuff of his footsteps. Sanzo unconsciously shook his head. Nataku shrugged, and swept into a roundhouse kick towards Sanzo's gut. Sanzo bent back at the waist, staggering again.

Why had had gone for ice skating lessons instead of karate?! Fuck, it would have been pointless now. Even if Sanzo could remember some of the self-defense moves he'd picked up in college, he didn't want to hurt Goku's friend. Besides, Nataku was good.

Nataku recovered fast, and as he lunged for Sanzo again with spear strikes that Sanzo could only dodge, moving backwards in jerks and starts, Sanzo realized that self-defense wouldn't help. Nataku had some sort of combat training. His college courses were in charts and figures. He'd brought graph paper to a gun fight he'd never wanted.

Moreover: "I don't want to fight you." Sanzo tried to smear the blood from his lips. “I have no reason to fight you. My employees have probably already called the police–”

“You hurt him, so I'll hurt you.” Nataku tipped his head from side to side, flexing his neck. “I won't let you get away with it. You won't even make an excuse.” Sanzo found himself backed against the trash cans, and the fence that separated the alley from the road. He was cornered, and as the back of his leg hit the metal can with a clank, he knew it. “I'll ask again: do you have any reason for doing what you did?” Sanzo braced himself, raising his arms in what would be a futile effort to protect his face, but Nataku just cracked his knuckles again. “Make an excuse.”

Sanzo hung his head, feeling Nataku looming over him. “I'm not making excuses. I had a reason. I'm not good for him. He'd just get hurt if he stayed.” He pressed his back to the wall, trying to think of any good way out of this, still unable to just admit, I'll get hurt if I keep him. “I hurt him now so he wouldn't get hurt later.”

Nataku, actually showing an emotion now, scowled. “I see. You're a coward.” He raised his fist, but just as Sanzo braced himself for the strike, there was a commotion at the other end of the alleyway:

“STOP!!” Goku pushed past Nataku and threw his arms wide between them. “STOP!” He set his feet wide, making himself as big as he could. Sanzo gaped at the sight of him: he was heaving for air, soaked from running in the rain, but sweat beaded on his forehead – he'd run the entire way here. He sucked in a breath, and repeated, “Stop, dammit, I didn't want you to do this!”

Nataku put his hands down at the sight of Goku, but his shoulders were still tense, ready to finish what he'd started the moment Goku was out of the way. “Please step aside. He deserves this and worse and you know it. He hurt you.”

“No, damn it, even I know that's not how that works!” Goku didn't budge, but his chest was still heaving, and Sanzo remembered that he kept his chest bound. He was probably having trouble breathing. Sanzo felt an inescapable need to help him, but his knees were shaking and he couldn't move. Goku sucked in a breath again, forcing the words, “Look, when you get in a relationship, you take the risk that they're gonna hurt you. Hurting is part of living, okay? Pain is how you know you're alive! Just like happiness and sadness and anger, it's part of being alive! So he's not the one who hurt me, I am!” He licked his lips, and Sanzo hung his head.

“Goku.”

“But I don't mind, y'know?” Goku turned to look back over his shoulder, and smiled. “Hope I'm not botherin' you.”

“Goku,” Sanzo repeated, unable to summon another word under the roar of his racing heart, but Goku, luckily, always had something to say.

“You don't have to love me, or even like me. I was alright before we met. I'm gonna be alright. I'm gonna learn, and keep living.” He turned back around to Nataku, but Sanzo couldn't stop himself. He reached out and grabbed Goku, forcing him to turn around.

“Do not learn from me. I'm not a good teacher.”

That wound Nataku up: “Keep your hands off of him!” He lunged, but Goku held a hand out and Nataku instantly stayed.

“No, it's okay.” Goku shook his head. “Even if you didn't mean to teach me, it was a lesson for me. You were the first person I fell in love with, but I knew I could get hurt if I did. Next time, I'll know when someone doesn't care about me before it goes too far. I'm tryin' to tell ya I'm fine, Sanzo.”

Sanzo felt those words like a bullet to the chest. “No. No. Stop talking like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you're going to comport the rest of your life around a bad lesson from a fucked up old man.” Sanzo pounded a fist to his chest. “I...” His hand trembled, and he grabbed both of Goku's shoulders to keep himself upright, no longer caring that his weakness was on display. “I got scared.”

Goku blinked, surprised. “S-Sanzo?”

He'd broken enough that the rest of it spilled out, and he had no chance of stopping it: “If you loved me, then it would hurt so much more when I did fuck it up, or when someone else stuck their nose in and fucked it up for us.”

“Sanzo...” Goku shook his head, then reached up and wiped the blood off of his lips with his hand. “Jeez, he got ya. I'm sorry.”

“Don't.” Sanzo winced, because even that kind touch abraded him. Being this close to Goku was a physical ache.

“Sorry.” Goku wiped his hand off on his own shirt, but rested the clean one on his shoulder. “But, I want you to know you have nothing to be scared of. I don't think you were gonna mess things up, and I think the two of us can be strong enough against anything else that comes for us. And I'd never hurt you!”

Nataku, who'd listened quietly for the last thirty seconds with his arms crossed, raised a hand and volunteered: “I might.”

Goku squeaked indignantly and whipped back around. “Nobody asked you! Not helping!” He pivoted back around. “Sanzo, I wouldn't have hurt you. I know you've been hurt before, but I'm not like that. I don't want anything out of you, except maybe a little time and attention.” He clenched a fist over his heart and squeezed Sanzo's shoulder, then laid his hand on his chest. “I'm just a dumb kid who fell in love with you. If you don't love me back, that's okay. But I still love you, and I'm gonna have to keep loving you for a while 'cause you're in my heart now.” He rubbed his thumb down Sanzo's cheek. “I won't hold on if you don't wanna give that love back. I'll let it go and be alright, like I said.” He hesitated, still searching Sanzo's face and eyes as if they might speak when he didn't or couldn't. “But if maybe you were lying when you said you didn't care 'cause of how scared you were--”

Sanzo couldn't let him finish that. He couldn't stand holding back anymore.

He yanked Goku close to him and folded his arms around him – not too tight, but so, so close. Goku stiffened with surprise, but didn't wriggle or twist. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Sanzo's waist. He opened his mouth, hesitated, then dared: “I love you.” Sanzo's grip tightened a little, and he put his face in the crook of Goku's neck and shoulder. “I really do. You don't have to say it back if you're not ready yet, but I love you, Sanzo.”

Sanzo held Goku as tight as he dared, his jaw clenched tight to keep his mouth from shaking. The rain poured down over the both of them, but it didn't matter when they were together like this. He could admit to himself, at least, that he was still scared of what they faced, a future he couldn't predict, but when Goku was here and warm against him and protecting him instead of the other way around, it didn't matter. He nuzzled the soft spot at the base of his neck, mouthing words he wasn't sure he'd ever dare to say aloud, and it all felt so bright.

Finally, he whispered, “I can't make any promises. I can only try to take care of you.”

Goku patted his back. “I'll take care of you, too. We can both help each other.”

Nataku, who'd stood back and watched, finally muttered a, 'gross,' and relaxed out of his fighting stance. "You could thank him for saving you."

Sanzo snorted, then stood back to look Goku in the eyes. "My hero," he said flatly, and slicked a damp spike of hair from his face. Goku grinned; he knew Sanzo meant it, at least a little.

"We should get you inside and get the blood off your face."

"It's superficial." Sanzo could feel it crusting up, and damn breathing was going to suck for a few days, but he pushed his septum back into place and pressed a hand to Goku's back and muttered, "I want to get you home. You shouldn't be doing sprints wearing that tight thing on your chest. We need to get it off of you, and get Nataku out of here before the cops come and I have to explain why I'm not pressing charges."

Goku rolled his eyes. "Sanzo, I've been a dude for way longer than you've known me, I know how to do it. I don't do anything that gets my heart rate up in the binder. I got other options." He snapped the strap on his shoulder, indicating what was under his shirt. Sanzo raised an eyebrow, and Goku pinked. "I missed the bus, and I had to save you somehow!"

Sanzo laughed under his breath, then kissed Goku on the cheek. "I'm glad you came."

Nataku cleared his throat and crossed his arms. "He still ran three miles in the rain."

"Come in and dry off. I'll get you something warm to drink and take you home." Sanzo looped his arm around Goku's shoulder and went to guide him in.

Maybe that would have been the end of it.

Except when they entered the bakery through the back door, Houmei was pushing her way into the kitchen. "Mr. Hassan! I--" She saw Sanzo, then Goku and Nataku, and gasped. "Oh, Mr. Sanzo! And -- ahh, you're here too!" Sanzo, smeared the blood from under his nose with a dishrag, then passed a dry one to Goku.

"What happened?"

"There's a man here to see you, he said it's important!" She worriedly looked between Sanzo, Goku, and Nataku, just as Hassan came out from the walk-in. He jumped a foot when he laid eyes on Nataku.

"Jesus, the guy beats you up and you invite him in?!" He jerked back in horror, as Nataku examined Hassan mildly.

"I didn't have a reason to beat him up anymore."

"Mr. Sanzo," Houmei interrupted, "Will you please talk to this guy?"

"Whatever." Sanzo toweled his hair quickly and put the bloodied rag in the wastebasket. He motioned to Nataku. "Stay here. Hassan, if you called the cops on him, I'll deal with them too. Goku, with me. You have to tell Pippi you're not single."

Goku glanced to Nataku, shrugged, and followed. "The pretty girl with the pigtails? Why do I need to tell her that?"

"Never mind." Sanzo pushed the door open, and found a young man he didn't recognize and the over-sized, muscle-bound mechanic from Goku's shop waiting. He frowned and rested his hands on his hips, hoping it made up for the blood he could still smell under his nose. "Gat, isn't it?”

Gat nodded, but Goku's face flashed with recognition. “Oh, you're Hazel!”

“Y'remember me.” Hazel's smile was thin and watery, unsteady. He looked like he might not even be standing upright if Gat's hand weren't on his shoulder. “I need to talk to the both of you. You need to...” He struggled, then cleared his throat. “I need to explain.”

Sanzo crossed his arms, glancing between Gat and Hazel; Gat stoic and calm, but Hazel fidgeting, twisting and wringing his hands. “Who are you?”

“Nobody to you, Mr. Sanzo.” Sanzo felt an edge of irritation – the little shit already knew his name. Hazel forced himself to look Sanzo in the eye. “But I'm a student of Professor Nii Jianyi, your brother. He... he asked me to keep an eye on you. I've been watchin' you, at his behest--”

Sanzo nearly vaulted the counter, but Goku grabbed the back of his shirt as if he could see into Sanzo's head and asked, “Why?”

“He told me he was worried, but it's become more than clear that he was just using the information I gave him to hurt you.” Hazel put his hand over his heart. “And it's become even more clear that I owe you – and him – a sincere apology. So, I'm--”

Sanzo snapped a hand over and hooked Hazel's collar in his fingers. “No you don't. You are not getting off that easy.” He leaned over, nose to nose with Hazel. “You and your bodyguard here, get in my office, now. I want to hear everything you know.”

Hazel swallowed twice, even as Sanzo let go of him, but nodded stiffly. “If that's what you want.” Sanzo pivoted for the office waved broadly for Hazel to follow, and Gat caught Goku's eye.

“He wants to fix this.”

Goku shook his head. “If he means what he says, then he's done a lot more damage than he knows. Saying he's sorry won't fix what he did.” He thought for a moment of Hakkai and Gojyo, and crossed his fingers that they could fix things for themselves.

If he and Sanzo could, then they had a chance, didn't they?

[comebeforegod]

I Have Walked on the Path to Purification

by Gangqiang, United States

In 2007, due to the pressure of life, I came to Singapore to carve out a career by myself. As the temperature was very high all year round in Singapore, every day I was streaming with sweat while working, which was a real torture. Also, being a stranger without family or friends, I felt my life awfully dull and boring.

One day in August, on my way back from work, I received a gospel leaflet on which was written, “But the God of all grace, who has called us to his eternal glory by Christ Jesus, after that you have suffered a while, make you perfect, establish, strengthen, settle you” (1 Peter 5:10). These words warmed my heart. Then a brother led me to a church, and the brothers and sisters there brought me a savory food warmly. The warmth of home and tasty food that I had not enjoyed for over half a year since I left home immediately moved me to tears. At that time, I, a lonely and drifting man, felt myself like a human and as if I had been back home. From then on, the church became the place that I must go to every Sunday.

In December, I received baptism and formally walked on the way of confession and repentance. One time in the church, I heard a pastor read the verses of Matthew 18:21-22, “Then came Peter to him, and said, Lord, how oft shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? till seven times? Jesus said to him, I say not to you, Until seven times: but, Until seventy times seven.” After hearing that, I thought: Why did the Lord Jesus have so great tolerance and patience? If people really can do what the Lord Jesus said—forgiving others seventy times seven, there will be love and warmth among men. So much was I touched by these words that I made up my mind to practice the Lord’s teachings.

During the two or three years after believing in the Lord, I was active in attending the gathering and listening to the preaching. Later, my boss put me in charge of a construction site, and I put my heart into it. Gradually, I didn’t go to the gathering often.

Later, I was introduced to Mr. Li, an owner, by a friend, and we jointly registered a construction company. Joyful, I decided to throw myself into my career. At that time, I had totally immersed myself in making money, and no longer went to the church. In order to do a good job on the project and win others’ praise for my ability, I was very strict with the employees, and showed no more love and tolerance to them. Instead, I often rebuked the workers, and the group leaders were frequently scolded into crying by me. The workers were all afraid to see me and avoided me. Even my good friends became cold toward me, no longer willing to speak their mind to me. I felt greatly distressed. The Lord Jesus taught us to forgive others until seventy times seven, but I failed to do it even once. I knew I had not done well and wanted to change myself, but I had no way. Every time when I felt depressed, I could only pray to the Lord. Only then did I felt somewhat relieved.

In August 2015, my company shut down because of mismanagement. So I had to stay at home. During that time, I was so depressed that I indulged myself in drinking and playing cards all day. When my wife tried to persuade me not to drink, I would shout abuse at her, “The money is earned by me; I can spend it any way I like….” So fiercely did I scold her each time that my daughter was frightened into silence, just standing aside and watching us nervously. Every time after I hurt my families I regretted very much, but I still could not control myself the next time. At that time, I had entirely lost the decency of a Christian, and lived and acted like an unbeliever.

Thereafter, I came back to the church. I kept praying to the Lord, “Oh Lord! I have done many things that I don’t want to do, and often live in the situation of committing sins and then regretting. I hate myself, but I can’t control myself. Even though I pray to confess my sins in the evening, I will sin again in the day once encountering some matters. Today, everyone keeps away from me and alienates me. Oh Lord, please help me. What should I do to break free from sin?”

On the New Year’s day of 2016, I set foot on the land of the United States, continuing to struggle for my career in New York. Soon after, I came to a church to listen to sermons, where I made the acquaintance of Sister Qinglian.

One day, Sister Qinglian phoned me and said, “I’ve got some good news for you!” I asked, “What’s that?” She answered, “A preacher came to our neighborhood. Would you like to listen to his preaching?” I said, “Yeah! Where?” She told me to go to her home at the appointed time.

At the time of the appointment, I came to Sister Qinglian’s house, and Sister Zhao was there as well. I saw the TV playing a passage of words, “And so I say that man’s sense has lost its original function, and that man’s conscience, too, has lost its original function. … Man’s disposition should be changed starting from the knowledge of his substance and through changes in his thinking, nature, and mental outlook—through fundamental changes. Only in this way will true changes be achieved in the disposition of man. Man’s corrupt disposition stems from his being poisoned and trampled upon by Satan, from the egregious harm that Satan has inflicted upon his thinking, morality, insight, and sense. It is precisely because these fundamental things of man have been corrupted by Satan, and are utterly unlike how God originally created them, that man opposes God and does not understand the truth. Thus, changes in man’s disposition should begin with changes in his thinking, insight and sense that will change his knowledge of God and his knowledge of the truth” (“To Have an Unchanged Disposition Is to Be in Enmity to God”). Seeing these words, I was quite touched: Am I not like what these words say? I have always looked down on others, rebuking this person and scolding that one, without morality or the decency of the saints. However, I could not change myself, and even fasting and praying didn’t work. Now these words have touched my heart deeply, but I have never seen them anywhere else, nor have I ever listened to any priest talking about them before. I felt strange: These words are so wonderful; who wrote them?

Sister Zhao told me they were the words of God, expressed by the returned Lord Jesus. “Has the Lord Jesus come back?!” I could hardly believe my ears when I heard this news. I was quite excited. Among the believers in the Lord, who is not looking forward to the Lord’s return? Now when I suddenly heard the news, I was somewhat at a loss what to do. “Has the Lord really come back?” I asked the sisters to tell me about that quickly.

Sister Zhao said, “The Lord Jesus has already come back indeed. The incarnate Almighty God is the returned Lord Jesus. He has expressed words to do the work of judgment beginning with the house of God. For the Lord Jesus only completed the work of redemption, redeeming us from sin and forgiving our sin so that we were condemned no more by the law, but our sinful nature was not cast away. We all know that although the Lord has forgiven our sins, we are still living in sin and cannot get rid of it even though we want to. This is because, after being corrupted by Satan, man’s disposition has become the same as Satan’s; the satanic corrupt dispositions such as arrogance, conceit, craftiness, selfishness, maliciousness, and so on have been deeply rooted within man; therefore people intrigue against each other, scramble for fame and fortune, are unable to get along with each other, and what’s more have been resistant to God. The Bible says, ‘… holiness, without which no man shall see the Lord’ (Hebrews 12:14). This shows us that man cannot see the Lord without being purified. In order to be saved from sin thoroughly, we need God’s further work of removing man’s sinful nature; otherwise we cannot be purified. Let’s read God’s word.” Sister Zhao opened the book of God’s word and began to read, “Though man has been redeemed and forgiven of his sins, it is only considered as God not remembering the transgressions of man and not treating man in accordance with man’s transgressions. However, when man lives in the flesh and he has not been set free from sin, he can only continue to sin, endlessly revealing the corrupt satanic disposition. This is the life that man leads, an endless cycle of sin and forgiveness. The majority of men sin in the day only to confess in the evening. As such, even if the sin offering is forever effective for man, it would not be able to save man from sin. Only half the work of salvation has been completed, for man still has corrupt disposition” (“The Mystery of the Incarnation (4)”).

“Though Jesus did much work among man, He only completed the redemption of all mankind and became man’s sin offering, and did not rid man of all his corrupt disposition. Fully saving man from the influence of Satan not only required Jesus to take on the sins of man as the sin offering, but also required God to do greater work to completely rid man of his disposition, which has been corrupted by Satan” (“Preface”).

“The sins of man were forgiven because of the work of God’s crucifixion, but man continued to live in the old, corrupt satanic disposition. As such, man must be completely saved from the corrupt satanic disposition so that the sinful nature of man is completely cast away and never again develops, thus allowing the disposition of man to be changed. This requires man to understand the path of growth in life, the way of life, and the way to change his disposition. It also needs man to act in accordance with this path so that the disposition of man can gradually be changed and he can live under the shining of the light, and that he can do all things in accord with the will of God, cast away the corrupt satanic disposition, and break free from Satan’s influence of darkness, thereby emerging fully from sin. Only then will man receive complete salvation” (“The Mystery of the Incarnation (4)”).

Then Sister Zhao fellowshiped, “From God’s words, we know that only when man understands the way of life and the way to change his disposition from the truths expressed by the second incarnate God, and acts in accordance with God’s demands, can his sinful nature be completely cast away and can he be saved. Thus we can see that the work of redemption and the work of removing sins are two different stages of work. In the work of redemption, the Lord Jesus merely took on man’s sins and spared man from the punishment which man should have received. This doesn’t mean that man no longer has sins, much less does it mean that man doesn’t sin anymore and is completely purified. In the work of removing sins, the root of man’s sin will be removed, so that man will sin no more and be purified. Only then can we win God’s approval and get into the kingdom of heaven and receive God’s promise.”

After listening to the words of God and Sister Zhao’s fellowship, I felt they fully accorded with the reality of the situation. During the past years, because of my arrogance and haughtiness, in my company, the workers were afraid of me and stayed away from me, and at home, my family feared me. I felt very distressed about that and even hated myself, but I was unable to change myself. Hearing the sister’s fellowship about the Lord Jesus’ return to do the work of expressing the truths and purifying man so that man can be changed, I felt very fortunate to meet the return of the Lord. That day before I left, Sister Zhao gave me a book entitled “Believe in God for Being Saved.” She said that she had used to live in sin and be unable to get rid of it like me, but later, she found the way to practice after she read that book. Happily, I received the book and was resolved to believe in Almighty God seriously.

After I accepted the work of Almighty God in the last days, I gradually understood the truths about God’s three stages of work and the mystery of His incarnation. When I first read the words with which God judged the satanic nature of man, I was very upset. But later I came to understand that I could only know my corruptions through the revelation of God’s severe words. If I did not know my corrupt disposition, how could I be changed? Later I read these words of God, “In the last days, Christ uses a variety of truths to teach man, reveal the essence of man, and dissect his words and deeds. These words comprise various truths, such as man’s duty, how man should obey God, how man should be loyal to God, how man ought to live out the normal humanity, as well as the wisdom and disposition of God, and so on. These words are all focused on the essence of man and his corrupt disposition. In particular, those words that reveal how man spurns God are spoken in regard to how man is an embodiment of Satan and an enemy force against God. When God does the work of judgment, He does not simply make clear the nature of man with just a few words, but carries out revelation, dealing, and pruning over the long term. Such manner of revelation, dealing, and pruning cannot be substituted with ordinary words but with the truth that man does not possess at all. Only such manner of work is deemed judgment; only through such judgment can man be persuaded, be thoroughly convinced into submission to God, and gain true knowledge of God” (“Christ Does the Work of Judgment With the Truth”).

From God’s words, I knew that God uses the truths that man does not possess at all to reveal man’s sins, dissect man’s deeds and words, and carry out long-term revelation, dealing and pruning on man, and that only through such judgment can man be persuaded and be thoroughly convinced into submission. And I also realized: Only by experiencing such judgment personally can I truly feel that God’s work in the last days is to accomplish all with His words. And only if God exposes me with His words, and deals with and prunes me and exposes my satanic nature through the people, matters, and things around me, allowing me to clearly see my ugliness, will I be able to hate myself and achieve a change.

Once in a gathering, when I was sharing my experiences, I repeatedly said such words, “I think” or “I think it should be like this.” A brother pointed out to me that it was arrogant and conceited of me to say so. In the past, if someone criticized me like this, I would certainly reason with him and retort upon him. But I chose to be silent this time, and didn’t argue or justify myself, because I thought of these words in Fellowship and Preaching About Life Entry, “Don’t say ‘I think,’ ‘I feel,’ or something like that anymore. What man thinks is not the truth. Anyone who says these is arrogant and conceited and what he expresses is his satanic disposition.” I thought that the brother’s criticism was right, and that I had no reason to argue. I was utterly convinced and chose to obey, for what man thinks can’t substitute for the truth and it all comes from Satan. Those who always put the word “I” first when speaking are those who don’t have any place for God in their heart and don’t honor God as great.

Later, I read a passage of words in Fellowship and Preaching About Life Entry: “If a person is arrogant, he must have some capital. Look at those who are of good caliber or have some gifts or talents. They believe that they are better than others, so they reveal a very arrogant disposition, having no regard for anyone. This is normal, since they are capable and of ability. If a man really knows himself, feeling himself worthless, will he still be arrogant? He will feel he has nothing that is worth being arrogant about and that he has no capital for being so, and he will not be arrogant anymore. Is this not the case? Someone always thinks that he is better than anyone else, and he can see through anything. What happens one day? He fails in humiliation and suffers great setbacks. Will he still be arrogant? He will feel that he cannot raise his head and dare not see others. Therefore, those with an arrogant disposition will have their arrogant disposition resolved naturally after they have failed several times, been humiliated several times, and received significant dealing and pruning several times. This is what everyone has to go through. After having experienced the judgment and chastisement of God, His dealing and pruning, the discipline of the Holy Spirit, and some failures and setbacks, he will be much more submissive and less arrogant or self-right, and he will seek and ask for others’ advice even on the things he thinks he can see through just in case he is wrong. This is all the result of God’s judgment and chastisement. Therefore, no matter how arrogant or self-right you are, don’t be afraid or worry about it. Just experience the judgment and chastisement of God, accept more pruning and dealing, and especially accept more disciplines of the Holy Spirit, and you will change gradually. No one can help you in this matter, and you have to receive the work of the Holy Spirit by praying to God and seeking the truth yourself. When the Holy Spirit works in you, all the problems will be solved.”

This fellowship was really clear and thorough, through which I realized that it was my arrogant satanic disposition that caused me to stand up high and chide others at home and at the construction site. I had thought that I was capable and could earn money, so I flaunted my seniority and showed respect to no one. I thought that no one was better than me, and I always held myself aloft. After accepting God’s work in the last days, thanks to reading many words of God’s judgment and fellowshiping with my brothers and sisters in the meetings, I had just got some knowledge about my arrogant disposition. Besides, from the fellowship above I also found the way of practice, that is, accepting my brothers’ and sisters’ pruning and dealing, allowing them to point out my problems, and then reflecting on myself according to God’s words and being able to truly hate myself, and ultimately not doing things by my satanic disposition but instead acting according to God’s words. After experiencing being pruned and dealt with and reflecting on myself many times, I would surely have some changes in my arrogant disposition.

As I read more and more of God’s words and constantly live the church life, I become more and more aware that it is really good to accept God’s work in the last days. My brothers and sisters are very warm and sincere toward each other. Everyone is simple and open and communicates his or her own experiences freely. When they express corrupt disposition, they can reflect on themselves according to God’s words. I truly see that Almighty God’s words can change and purify man.

I believe that everyone who truly believes in the Lord is yearning for the return of the Lord Jesus. I will preach God’s kingdom gospel in the last days to my friends and more people. I hope that they can follow the footsteps of the returned Lord like me and see God’s salvation for mankind.

[thelastspeecher]

Stan Pines, Farmhand - Chapter 12: We’re Expecting a Package or Two

Chapter 1   Chapter 2   Chapter 3   Chapter 4   Chapter 5   Chapter 6 Chapter 7   Chapter 8   Chapter 9   Chapter 10   Chapter 11   Chapter 12 Chapter 13   Chapter 14   Chapter 15   Chapter 16   AO3

Most of y’all know that this week was really shitty for me (pretty sure the last 72 hours or so have been one constant panic attack, and I’m in physical pain basically all the time), so I gave up on being coy and decided that I needed happiness and fluff in my life.  So.  Here ya go.  The next chapter of “Stan Pines, Farmhand”, a day early.  In it, Stan and Angie have an important conversation while Stan is shirtless, they con everyone for nine months, and hopefully, you’ll be surprised.  Enjoy~

October 31, 1978

               “Angie, could ya help me out?  I’m havin’ some issues puttin’ on this fuckin’ pirate costume,” Stan said, walking into the bedroom he shared with Angie, one arm in his shirt and the other one out.  Angie was sitting on the bed, still in the clothes she’d worn during her research hike that day.  “Uh, Angie? I thought we were goin’ to that Halloween party the lumberjacks are throwin’.”

               “I, uh, I ain’t in the mood,” Angie said softly.  Stan struggled for a few moments before completely removing his shirt and tossing it to the side.  He sat down next to her.

               “Babe, what’s wrong?”

               “Y’know how we planned on not havin’ kids fer a while?”  Dread began to gnaw at Stan’s stomach.

               “Yes…”

               “We, uh, we might to have to move up those plans a bit,” she squeaked. Stan stared at her.  

               “Are- are you-”  Angie buried her head in her hands.

               “I’m pregnant,” she whispered.  

               “Oh.  Oh, fuck,” Stan said in an equally soft tone.  “We- we ain’t prepared.”  Angie shook her head.

               “No.  We ain’t.” She took a deep breath.  “This- this’ll throw a bit of a wrench in our plans.”

               “Okay, okay,” Stan said, running a hand through his hair.  “First off, are ya sure you’re pregnant?”

               “Well, I ain’t gone to the doctor, but given my fam’ly history, I highly doubt it’s a false positive, darlin’.”

               “Yeah.  The McGucket fertility.  Shoulda listened to Lute when he warned me.”  Angie chuckled drily.  “But, uh, at least we’ve got some money saved.  And I’ve got a steady job finally.  Bein’ a lumberjack pays pretty well.”  He looked at Angie.  “An’ Ford keeps askin’ ya to help with his research; you’ve got cash from when you’ve done that, right?”  She nodded. “So, the money might not be an issue.” Angie leaned against him.  

               “Even if it is, my folks’ll back us up,” she said softly.  “An’ they’ve still got a lot of old baby stuff from when us kids were young.”  She smiled absentmindedly.  “I kind of like the idea of our kid usin’ the same crib I used.”  Stan felt something warm inside his chest.

               “Yeah.”

               “An’ it ain’t like Fidds, I don’t have to put my research on hold right away,” Angie continued.  “Pregnant people can go on hikes.  ‘Fore their feet swell, at least.”

               “Is that a thing that happens?” Stan asked.  Angie laughed.

               “Maybe we should get ya a book.  Or have Ma give ya a conversation ‘bout what pregnancy entails.  That’d scare ya.”

               “Geez.”  The two of them were silent for a moment.  Stan put an arm around Angie’s shoulders.  

               “Are- are we goin’ to do this?” Angie said at long last.  Stan nodded hesitantly.

               “I think so.”  He looked at her.  “Angie, we’re havin’ a kid.”  She beamed.

               “We’re havin’ a kid!”

               “We’re- we’re gonna be parents.”

               “We’re goin’ to be parents!”  She embraced him tightly.  He hugged her in return, but let go quickly.  

               “Shit, should- should I not squeeze ya or-”  Angie laughed.  “So I can, then.”  She took one of his hands and placed it on her flat stomach.  

               “Stanley, yer son or daughter’s in there. Right now.  Growin’.”  The warm feeling Stan had felt earlier spread from his chest to his extremities.  “I think I’m goin’ to have to skip the party tonight,” Angie said.  “I don’t feel much up to it, what with findin’ out I’m pregnant an’ all.”

               “Fuck the party,” Stan said vehemently.  He smiled at her.  “We’re gonna have a baby.”

----- 

January 8, 1979

               The doorbell rang.  Angie covered the receiver of the phone.

               “Stan, could ya get that, please?  I’m talkin’ to Ma,” she said.  Stan continued to squint at the crib assembly instructions.  

               “Still?”

               “She’s excited ‘bout her youngest havin’ a baby.”

               “I guess she would be.  My mom talked my ear off, too.”  The doorbell rang again.  “I’m comin’!” Stan stood up and walked to the front door, abandoning the half-built crib in the living room.  He opened the door.  “Hey, nerds.”

               “Hello to you too, Stanley,” Ford said shortly.  Fiddleford shifted Tate from being held in one arm to his other one.

               “Angie called earlier, sayin’ y’all had somethin’ to tell us?”

               “Come on in!” Angie shouted from the living room.  Stan stood to the side and let Ford and Fiddleford file in past him. Ford got to the living room first.

               “Wh- normally you two keep this place fairly clean,” Ford said, eyeing the crib parts scattered across the room.  

               “I tried not followin’ the instructions, and then I built…I don’t even know what it was, so I had to tear it apart,” Stan explained.  “I may or may not have thrown some things.”

               “He did throw things,” Angie said to Ford, while she was still on the phone. “Uh-huh.  Yes, Ma, I know.  ‘Bout three months, I told ya already.”

               “She’s talkin’ to Ma, huh?” Fiddleford asked.  He set down Tate, who promptly crawled over to the building instructions and picked it up.  “No, honey-bun!” Fiddleford said quickly, taking the piece of paper from him.  He frowned.  “Crib instructions?  Why would ya be buildin’ a crib?”  He looked up at Stan, his eyes wide.  “Are ya-” Stan nodded.

               “We’re due late June.”

               “Oh!”  Fiddleford embraced Stan tightly.  “Congratulations, brother!”  Ford gave Stan a pat on the back.

               “Yes, Stan.  Congratulations.  Congratulations to the both of you.”

               “Thanks!” Angie said cheerfully.  She turned her attention back to her phone conversation.  “No, Ma, I- Ma, I don’t need yer old maternity clothes.  I’m gettin’ my own.  ‘Cause fashions change, that’s why!”

               “Yeah, thanks, we’re uh-”  Stan cut off his thought.  “Tate, no!” He picked his nephew up and pulled the screwdriver out of the toddler’s hand.  Tate sniffled.  “Don’t cry, kid,” Stan said desperately.  

               “Here,” Ford said, taking Tate from Stan.  Fiddleford put his hands on his hips as he surveyed the partially assembled crib.

               “Why didn’t ya wait fer us to get here ‘fore ya started?  I can help ya out.  I am an engineer, after all.”

               “No thanks.  I want somethin’ for my kid to sleep in, not a killer robot,” Stan said.  

               “Stan?” Angie said.

               “Yeah?”

               “Lute wants to talk to ya,” she said, walking over and handing him the phone. Fiddleford took the moment to hug her.

               “My baby sister’s havin’ a baby!”

               “Fidds, don’t squeeze so tight,” Angie squeaked.  Fiddleford let her go.

               “Sorry.”  He looked her up and down.  “Yer showin’!”  Angie placed her hands on her stomach, which already had a slight bump to it.

               “A bit.”

               “How far along are ya?”

               “A lil over three months.”  

               “That’s a bit early to be showin’.”

               “Yeah, it threw us fer a loop, too. I s’pose it’s ‘cause I was mostly skin ‘n bones ‘fore.  It’s why we decided to tell y’all now.  We were plannin’ on waitin’ a bit longer, to avoid the phone calls and questions and advice and whatnot.  But Ma already basically figured it out at Christmas, an’ then I started puttin’ on some weight up front, so we had to move up our schedule a bit.”  She grinned crookedly.  “This kid’s already causin’ us trouble.”  Fiddleford smiled at her.

               “Goldarn, with you and Stan as its parents, why, that kid’ll be a handful.”

               “We can’t all have quiet, well-behaved children,” Angie replied. Fiddleford chuckled and tucked a stray strand of hair behind one of her ears.

               “You would know, bein’ that you were one of ‘em what weren’t.”

               “So, Stan, you ‘n my baby sister are havin’ a kid, huh?” Lute said, drawing Stan’s attention to the phone call.

               “Yeah.”

               “Due date’s when?”

               “June 20.”

               “Wow, that’s so soon!” Lute said in mock surprise.  Stan sighed.

               “Just say it and get it over with.”  Lute sniggered.

               “Told ya so.”  

----- 

February 19, 1979

               “Okay, give me a second to find the baby,” the ultrasound technician said, running the weird device over Angie’s slightly extended stomach.  Angie watched the ultrasound with baited breath, her face pale and drawn.  Stan squeezed her hand.

               “How ya doin’?” he asked her.  

               “What if somethin’s wrong?” she whispered.  

               “It won’t be.”

               “Stan, ya have no clue how many things can go wrong durin’ a pregnancy,” she said snippily, her nerves getting the best of her.

               “Bein’ a biologist is really comin’ back to bite ya in the ass, huh?” Stan said.  Angie nodded hesitantly.  

               “It’s so easy fer one thing to not work right and then-”

               “Do ya know what Lute keeps sayin’ to me?” Stan interrupted, stopping her stream of anxiety before she could start to panic.  Angie turned her head to face him.

               “No.  What?”

               “He keeps sayin’ that the kid’ll be a redhead.”  

               “Well, it does run in my fam’ly.  Auntie Banjey and Violynn have both got that pretty red hair.”

               “No, not from you.  From me.” Angie frowned, perplexed. “Remember when I accidentally got my hair turned red fer six months?”

               “That happened years ago!  Why’s he bringin’ it up?”

               “Somethin’ ‘bout seein’ me as a redhead bein’ one of the best days of his life.”  Stan sighed. “He’s never gonna let me live it down.”

               “He wouldn’t be a proper brother if he did.”

               “He’s gonna use that as a bedtime story for our kid, I just know it.” Angie chuckled, her earlier anxiety about the baby’s health forgotten.

               “And…there it is,” the technician said, pointing at the screen. Angie squeezed Stan’s hand.

               “Thank you,” she whispered.  He squeezed back and leaned forward, squinting slightly at the screen.

               Maybe Angie’s right.  Maybe I should get my eyes checked out again. Might need stronger lenses than what I’ve got.

               “The baby is that white blob?” Angie asked.

               Oh.  Maybe it’s not my glasses.

               “Shaped sort of like a bean, yes.  There’s its head, and its torso and- oh!”  

               “What?” Angie asked worriedly.  Stan squeezed her hand again.

               “There’s another one!” the technician said excitedly, pointing to a similarly shaped blob on the screen.

               “There’s two?” Angie asked breathlessly.

               “Yep!  Twins.” Stan’s heart stopped.

               I’m still not sure if I can take care of one kid, let alone two.  

               “No one in my family has ever had twins,” Angie said.  

               “Yeah, but it runs in my family,” Stan replied.  Angie looked at him.

               “That ain’t how it works, Stanley.”  Stan grinned at her.

               “I know.  Ya keep tellin’ me that.”  He looked back at the ultrasound.  As he stared at the picture, maybe he was imagining it, but it seemed to come into focus more.  He could see what the technician had pointed out: the head, the torso, the second fetus.  His heart started racing.

               Those are my kids.  He felt a surge of protectiveness, of connection to these white blobs on a computer screen.  My kids.  

               “You all right, Stan?” Angie asked, breaking him from his reverie.  He looked down at her.

               “Just- just thinkin’ ‘bout how much I love those kids, and they aren’t even born yet,” he said weakly.  “I’d- I’d do anything for ‘em.”  Angie’s eyes got misty.  

               “I know,” she whispered.  She looked back at the ultrasound.  “So would I.”

----- 

June 25, 1979

               “These damn kids are takin’ their sweet time to get out,” Angie said idly. She was sitting in Stan’s armchair, hands resting on her large baby bump.  Stan looked up from his Gold Chains for Young Men magazine.

               “I thought ya were nappin’.”

               “Woke up.  Yer children kept kickin’ me.”

               “Weren’t they due-”

               “Five days ago,” Angie finished for him.  She shifted slightly, attempting to find a more comfortable sitting position.  “But technically speakin’, they should’ve been here even sooner than that.  Twins ‘re usually born early.”

               “Maybe it’s fer the best,” Stan suggested.  Angie eyed him.

               “Yer not the one whose bladder is gettin’ stomped on.”

               “That’s not what I meant.”

               “Then what did ya mean, oh husband of mine who planted two children in me?” Angie snipped.  She sighed.  “Sorry, darlin’.  It’s damn near impossible to get comfortable right now, an’ I’m gettin’ pretty sick of needin’ yer help to sit up in the mornin’.”  She rubbed her eyes.  “I’m gettin’ pretty sick of bein’ tired all the time, too.”

               “That’s not gonna end after the kids are fin’ly born,” Stan said.  Angie groaned.

               “Don’t remind me.  An’ if those kids are anythin’ like either of us, they’re goin’ to be hell to raise.” She shook her head.  “Never mind, we’ll get there when we get there.  What did ya mean by me bein’ overdue bein’ a good thing?”

               “Well, we’ve got the cribs done,” Stan began.  Angie nodded.  “The nursery’s completely done.  Painted and set up.  We’ve got enough baby clothes fer a baby army.”  She cracked a half-smile.  “But we don’t have any names.”  Angie stared at him.

               “Well, kettle my corn,” she said softly.  “I completely forgot ‘bout choosin’ names!”

               “An’ we’ve gotta have two of ‘em,” Stan pointed out.  Angie nodded.  “And three pairs, since they need to match.”

               “No, they don’t.”

               “Pines fam’ly tradition.  Twins have matching names.”

               “We ain’t pullin’ a ‘Stan and Stan’ situation, Stanley,” Angie said.

               “Oh, God, no.  Y’know, the reason Ford and I basically have the same name is ‘cause my folks weren’t expectin’ twins.  So Pops just gave us the same name when there ended up bein’ two.”  He put his magazine down.  “But we know we’re havin’ twins.”  Angie drummed her fingers on her stomach idly.

               “If’n ya want matchin’ names, if it’s two girls, how ‘bout Viola and Virginia?”

               “No.”

               “What?  Why not?”

               “Viola isn’t a real name.”

               “It is!  It was Fidds’ first name!  An’ Virginia is Ma’s middle name.”

               “Nope.  Nixing it.”

               “Fine,” Angie grumbled.  She cocked her head at him.  “What did ya have in mind?”

               “Stanjamin and Stella, for a boy and girl,” Stan said immediately. Angie’s face settled into a sour expression.  “So, no, then.”

               “I like Stella.  But Stanjamin ain’t a name.”

               “Stella and Stanley, then.”

               “No.  If I can’t have Viola, you can’t have Stanley.”  Stan sighed.

               “Fair enough,” he said.  Angie closed her eyes and leaned back.  She took so long to speak that Stan initially thought she had fallen asleep again.

               “How ‘bout Emmett and Emory, fer two boys?”

               “…I like it.  It’s better than what I was thinkin’.”

               “Which was?”

               “Luke and Lex.”  Angie chuckled.  

               “Them’s nerd names, Stan.”

               “Yeah.  Emmett and Emory is better.  An’ if it’s a boy and a girl, then Emmett and…Emily?”  Angie nodded, her eyes still closed.

               “I like it.”

               “An’ fer two girls,” Stan started, “maybe Daisy could be one of ‘em.”

               “Daisy?  Like my horse?”

               “Like yer favorite flower, Gucket,” Stan retorted.  Angie smiled.  

               “Yer such a sap,” she said quietly.  She yawned.  “We can figure out the other name later.  I’m thinkin’ I might try to take a nap again.”

               “What ‘bout last names?” Stan said.  “Are we gonna give ‘em McGucket-Pines or Pines-McGucket?”  Angie opened an eye to look at him.  

               “We name one of ‘em McGucket and one Pines,” she said shortly.

               “One McGucket-Pines and the other one Pines-McGucket?”

               “No.  Just McGucket and just Pines.”  She closed her eyes and settled back.  “It ain’t fun havin’ a super long name.”

               “I dunno.  It’d be weird if they were twins but didn’t have matchin’ last names,” Stan said slowly. He looked over at his wife.  She was asleep again.  “I guess we’ll have to figure it out later.”  He walked over to her, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek and whispering in her ear.  “Stanjamin Pines.  Think about it.”

----- 

July 4, 1979

               Stan stared down at the two matching hospital cribs.  Each strange, box-like structure held an infant swaddled in a pink blanket.  He reached down and stroked the one with hair; a few wispy caramel-colored curls. Her sister, who was completely bald, began to shift noisily.  

              “Are ya ever goin’ to pick one up? Or are ya just window shoppin’?” Angie asked teasingly.  Stan looked over at her.  She was still slightly winded, but had rebounded from her long labor quickly.  

              “Gimme a sec.  I was just watchin’ ‘em sleep.”  He turned back to his newborn daughters.  “God, they’re gorgeous girls.  Just like their mom.”

              “Mm.  Gorgeous like their dad.”

              “Yer right.  We are both gorgeous.  Our daughters are gonna be inhumanly beautiful.”  Angie laughed.

              “Ford’s rubbin’ off on ya.  Yer startin’ to sound like a dork.”

              “That’s slander.”  Another minute passed as Stan continued to look at his children.  Eventually, Angie spoke.  

          ��   “Stan, would ya mind gettin’ one of ‘em? I’d like to hold my daughter.”

              “Can’t ya get her yourself?”

              “I just pushed both of ‘em outta my body, Stanley.  I barely got enough strength to sit up.”

              “Which one do ya want?”

              “Don’t care.  They’re both perfect.”  Stan handed the younger twin to Angie.  He watched his wife hold his daughter in the correct way immediately, and gaze down with intense love in her eyes.  

              Damn, she’s got me beat at this whole parenting thing and they’re less than an hour old.

              “Why don’t ya hold the other one?” Angie suggested.  “She’s got yer nose, after all.”  Stan cracked a half-smile.

              “Prob’ly looks better on her.”  

              “Come on, Stan.  Bond with yer oldest child.”  

              “Okay, okay.  I was gonna do it, even before ya started to harass me.”  He reached into the crib and picked up his other daughter.  She shifted slightly in his arms.

              “Look at that,” Angie said quietly. “Yer a natural.”

              “Yeah?” Stan asked, torn between staring at his daughter and staring at his wife.

              “Yeah.”

              “God, they’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” Stan whispered.

               “No swearin’ around yer daughters, please.”

               “Right.”  He took a seat and stared down at his oldest child.  At some point, she had woken up while he held her.  Her eyes, a rich dark brown like his, were wide open, and she was staring at him with unabashed curiosity.  He stroked her caramel-colored curls tenderly.  “How else am I gonna find good words to describe how I feel, though?” he asked quietly.

               “Aw, Stan, that’s so sweet,” Angie said.  She looked down at the child she was holding.  “This one’s got the McGucket nose.”

               “That one should be Daisy, then.”

               “Why?”

               “Daisy McGucket just has a nice feel to it.”  His daughter shifted in his arms and made a small noise.  “But this one, she’s a Pines.  Danica Pines.”  He looked up at Angie.

               “Yessir.  Daisy Leigh McGucket and Danica Viola Pines.”  She smiled at him.  There was a knock on the hospital room door.  “Come in.”  Fiddleford entered the room, closely followed by Ford.  

               “Would ya look at that lil munchkin!” Fiddleford gushed, making a beeline for Angie.  

               “Do ya want to hold her?” Angie asked.

               “Yes, please.”  Angie handed Daisy to her older brother.  Ford joined Fiddleford and stared down at his small niece.  “What’s her name?”

               “Daisy.  Daisy Leigh.”

               “A cute lil name fer a cute lil girl,” Fiddleford cooed.  Daisy waved a tiny hand.  Fiddleford’s eyes widened.  “Angie, is she a polydactyl?”

               “Yep.  Eleven adorable fingers.”

               “It makes sense.  She’s eleven minutes younger than the other one,” Stan said.  Fiddleford and Ford looked up.

               “Other one?” Ford asked.

               “Ya had twins?” Fiddleford asked Angie.  She nodded, grinning.  “Why didn’t ya tell anyone?”

               “We wanted it to be a surprise.”

               “And we wanted to mess with everyone,” Stan said.  “Angie and I couldn’t think of a better way to bring our daughters into the world than with a long con.”  Ford walked over to his twin’s side.  

               “She’s a cute kid, Stan.”

               “Thanks.  Her name’s Danica.  Danny for short.”

               “You two went with the naming convention, then?” Ford asked.  Stan nodded.  Angie looked at Fiddleford.

               “Do ya know when Ma ‘n Pa ‘ll be here?”

               “I called everyone when ya told us you were in labor.  But 1 am ain’t exactly the time most folks are up.”

               “Yeah, I was sleepin, too,” Angie said.  She shook her head.  “I much prefer my alarm clock to contractions in terms of wakin’ up methods.  Less painful.”

               “They’re goin’ to be here as soon as they can, but they prob’ly won’t show up ‘til tomorrow,” Fiddleford said.  Angie nodded, seeming disappointed.  “Aw, shucks, Angie, it’ll be fine.  At least two of yer lil daughters’ uncles are here.”

               “Yeah…”  Fiddleford put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.  

               “Lil sis, ya did good.”  He handed Daisy back to Angie and kissed her on the forehead.  “They’re beautiful, Banjey.”  Angie smiled at him.

               “Thanks, Fidds.”    

               “Can I hold Danny?” Ford asked Stan.  Stan shook his head.

               “No dice, Sixer.  She’s stayin’ with me.”

               “I’m her uncle, though.”

               “I’m her dad,” Stan said, holding Danny far away from Ford.

               “Stanley, please!” Ford said, attempting to grab his niece.  The McGuckets watched them tussle with identical bemused expressions.  

               “Stanford, I don’t know if this is the best route to take,” Fiddleford started cautiously.  Ford didn’t respond.  Now being lifted high up in the air, Danny began to squirm and giggle.  

               “Stan, let Ford hold Danny,” Angie said briskly.  “‘Fore ya drop our newborn daughter!”  With a sigh, Stan handed Danny to Ford.

“She looks like you, Stan,” Ford said. “But that might just be because of the nose.”

               “Nah, she’s too cute to look like me,” Stan said casually.  “They take more after their ma in terms of looks.  Hopefully, they’ll be smart like her, too.”  Angie beckoned Stan over and gave him a kiss.

               “It don’t matter who they take after,” she said gently.  “They’ll be wonderful either way.”

----- 

               Later, while Angie was sleeping off twelve hours of childbirth, Stan stood in front of the hospital nursery, watching his newborn daughters.  He thought of another pair of twins, born more than twenty-five years ago, one a polydactyl, one not.  And he looked at his reflection, a reflection of a man with the same square chin as Filbrick Pines.  He placed a hand on the glass.

               “I’m not gonna be like him,” Stan whispered.  “I won’t.  I’ll be there fer ya and protect ya.  I’ll be a father, not a deadbeat dad.”  He swallowed. “But if, for some reason, I don’t make it, look out fer each other.  Don’t let the world rip you apart.  Life is an awful lot easier when someone is by yer side.  Don’t follow in yer dad’s footsteps, and I won’t follow in mine.” Daisy, who had been sleeping, opened her eyes.  Stan blinked back a few tears.  “Ya hear me?” he choked out.  “You two better stick together.  Learn from my mistakes.”  He smiled weakly at his daughters.  “Who am I kiddin’?  Yer already better than me at my best.  You’ve got this in the bag, don’t ya?”  Daisy waved around tiny fists, and Danica kicked the air excitedly.  Stan’s smile grew stronger.  “That’s my girl.  Fighters, the both of ya.”

[khavvah]

To Consider...

After reading the end chapter 17 of “Beasts and Beauties”:

Chapter 2: Scratch My Back

Example 1:

"What? Nah, it's good." He bunched up the coat around his shoulders, warding her off as if she were a thief. He obviously wasn't comfortable with a stranger handling his personal belongings. 

Example 2:

"While he brought his troubles on himself, I do appreciate your attention toward him."

Those words, in that particular order, triggered a strange impulse in Guzma's brain; he twisted the heavy ring on his finger and blurted stupidly, "It's nothing weird."

She sipped at her tea, then gave him a querying look over the ceramic cup.

"Uh, y'know, it's not something weird, if that's what… You were wondering."

"I'm not certain what you mean," she said, a little cross that she didn't, "because there's nothing strange about helping a person in need."

"Y-yeah. That's what I meant."

Chapter 5

Example 1:

But he couldn't drop his meandering thoughts: his intense memory of the Nihilego's touch, Lusamine's faraway look when he spoke to her, the moans that roused him from his nightmare-fueled sleep-- Mohn, where are you, Mohn, can you hear me? All of this wrapped up into a tight, throbbing lump in his throat--all the pity that drove him to help her in the first place. She was sick, that was all. She was lonely and hurt, and he felt that he was the only person in the universe who truly understood that.

Example 2:

Guzma had never been one to lurk around Nanu's place. That was more Plumeria's gig--she liked to wander over here, hang out, exchange barbs with the old man. Guzma guessed, though he wasn't certain, that she did it to fulfill some longing for adult company. Guzma preferred to stay clear of the place, and when Nanu had the stones to wander into his turf in Po Town, he always made his disapproval clear. He let the old man stick around--they needed the money--but he distrusted the man's motives. What kind of geezer is willing to live in an abandoned police station? What kind of guy lives around little kids like that, tries to talk to them and give them sweets? A weirdo, Guzma thinks. Maybe some kinda perv.

[...]

"Ugh, what, did you watch me sleep, or something, you weirdo?"

Chapter 9

Example 1:

"Only because you're so quick to criticize him!" she implored. From across the table, she reached to take his hands, folding them into her own. "My dear, he requires a certain… Gentle touch. If only you took the time to encourage him, to praise him, to show him the slightest bit of care--" She took his two hands, then placed them together, guiding his fingers to weave into one another and clasp tightly. "I promise you, he will become putty in your hands."

Example 2:

Guzma, who stood awkwardly in the middle of his living room, stuffed his hands into his jacket and waited it out. He had known that some "fashionista" that Lusamine knew personally was coming here--the appointment had been long-standing--but he didn't expect to witness this much affection between the two. It confused and embarrassed him.

Example 3:

"What are you--!" Guzma lurched and knocked her hands away. "Woah! Hey! Hands off! My clothes are staying on, lady!"

"What is an artist without blank canvas?" she scolded. "Come now, there's is no need to be shy."

She tried again, and again he knocked her hands away. "Quit touchin' me!"

[...]

"She asked you to remove your clothes, is that right? It's perfectly standard--whatever's the matter?" She looked at him--studied him, as if trying to figure out the source of this resistance. "Do you not like your body?"

"What? Nah! It's not--" He rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. "I don't care about that."

"Then what is it?"

"I dunno--I just don't want to."

Lusamine didn't look particularly moved by this logic, so he blurted out some more, tugging at the ends of his hair as he struggled to express his thinking.

"It's just weird. Like--it's not normal, to--you know--"

Example 4:

"Ah. I see." Was that all he came for? Faba felt a headache coming on. He motioned for Guzma to face him. "...Yes, let me help."

But when he stepped forward, reaching for it, Guzma immediately had an adverse reaction; he backed away, gave him a nasty look.

Faba jumped back, like he expected to be bitten. "Or--! Er, here, hand it to me. I'll show you."

Guzma seemed to find this more tolerable. He eased, pulled the tie from his neck and gave it to him.

Example 5:

This boy. This boy.  Faba was no developmental psychologist, but everything about him smacked of arrested development, like something had caught Guzma by the throat when he was ten years old and hadn't let go since. Faba suddenly remembered that this was ostensibly a man, in his early twenties, the age at which Faba himself had graduated from university and had been already accepted into a prestigious doctoral program in Kalos. The scientist had his immaturities at that age, to be sure, but he wasn't throwing temper tantrums or slinking about begging for scraps of approval from his elders.

[...]

Child, what trauma did this to you?

Lusamine must have understood this from the beginning. After all, she was right: one tiny physical interaction, one half-hearted piece of advice, and the boy's defenses collapsed, making him clingy and needy, like a stray animal that had just received a tasty morsel from a stranger. In that moment, he could have told the boy to do cartwheels about the suite, and he might have done it, just to be praised.

It made… Faba more uncomfortable than anything. One thought floated in particular, unnerving him: a predator's dream. A person of fewer scruples than he would have a field day, taking advantage of this trapped adolescent who thumped his tail sadly and whimpered for validation.

Chapter 13

Example 1:

"But does he strike you as…" She searched for the correct word. "Disordered?"

[...]

"Early on, I made note of what I thought might be signs of repressed homosexual tendencies. But as I said. That theory died on the vine."

[...]

"He's not attracted to men, Faba, but he still has an enormous complex concerning them. He sees them as threats. But you―you're not a threat, you see."

[...]

"Don't get excited. I'm not suggesting he's raped anyone," she went on, ignoring his discomfort. She rolled her bracelet on her wrist, allowing its glimmer to guide her thinking aloud. "To the contrary―I think he has yet to live out his urges. It's strange. One would surmise that in all those years unsupervised with other adolescents, he'd find the means and opportunity. Yet he's so passive. Perhaps he's afraid of his impulses; it would probably take―well, if he were angry enough, I suppose―" 

Example 2:

Lusamine suffered for being tangible, he decided―for coming out of his abstract brain. A part of him thrilled at the flesh and bone of her, that he could touch her, and do more, too―but another part, the child in him that he never successfully suppressed, began to loathe it: its heat, its sweat, its corruption, its biology. Bodies are for breaking, for being broken; for hurting, and being hurt. And nowhere in his life, outside of restless dreams or passing fantasies, has that ever been different for him.

He knows marriage is, in its ultimate way, a carnal and corporeal thing, but it had religion to it, too. Talk of spirit and sacrament. Promises. Promises, which he knows from experience always come with secrets, and secrets―

Chapter 14

Example 1:

Guzma didn't like Aster.

It wasn't that he was… A bad person, or anything. No, Aster was nice, kind, and patient with everyone, including him. He took Faba's verbal abuse with a whimsical smile, and he always wanted to know if there was anything, anything at all, that he could do to help. That alone set Guzma on edge. Aster was too nice, and spoke too sweetly. Whenever they interacted, Aster would hum with interest and affection, asking him questions, saying things that Guzma didn't understand until the man laughed and teased him. (Aster called him a "bumpkin" once, and though Guzma didn't know what it meant at the time, his face burned at the humiliation of it). Plus, he was a lot more touchy; he would grab Guzma by the shoulder or arm, and be quick to take his hands to guide him on something, or clap him on the back. It was all very… Disconcerting.

Example 2:

"Look at 'em. They're shakin'." (He said this, even though he was shaking himself, shaking from the strain of his world falling apart around him: the humiliation of defeat, the final flight from home, the depraved betrayal from a friend that still lingered, the vomit still burning his throat―). 

Example 3:

"You aren't playing with your friends?"

Guzma looked out over the beach, seeing a group of boys splashing each other in the waves. He shook his head. "They aren't my friends."

"Oh." The officer took a second to glance around. "So are your friends around here somewhere?"

Guzma hesitated and didn't verbally answer, instead shrugging.

[...]

"Is that right? Well, my name's Daturo. Nice to meet you." The officer might have offered a handshake, but Guzma didn't accept it. The man didn't seem deterred by this. "Say, Guzma. Could you help me?"

Guzma looked up uncertainly.

"See, I'm new here. I just got transferred from Sinnoh―so I don't know the island very well yet. You live here, right? You think you could show me around?"

Guzma, perplexed, shrugged his shoulders again. "I dunno."

"Not right now," Daturo backed down. "If you're busy. Some other time, if you want. Huh―what do kids eat around here...? What are those donut things, that I've seen―?"

"Malasadas."

"Yeah, those. Tell ya what. Sometime, you can show me around, and there'll be a malasada in it for you. How's that sound, Guzma?"

[...]

But by then, Guzma didn't hear it. He probably wouldn't have stopped, even if he had. There were oppressive thoughts buzzing like angry hornets about his head―thoughts that didn't come from youth or play, but dragged him out in a riptide, pulling him farther and farther out, out to an alien place barren of life. It wasn't as if he meant to find happiness―he wasn't happy here, and he didn't expect any happiness where he was going. But if it meant… hope, or kindness, or the slightest taste of something good in life... For that… Wouldn't he give anything?

Chapter 15

Example 1:

Before anyone understood what had happened, Guzma roared for everyone to leave the room, except the one. Upon being left alone, he immediately grabbed the kid by the throat.

"You tryin' to say I like little boys?"

[...]

Guzma bellowed over the noise. "Try sayin' it again―and I'll cut your ear off! I'll cut it off and feed it to you!"

Example 2:

Gladion made an impromptu decision. "Never mind it. We'll go back to the motel."

"W-what?" Guzma glanced over his shoulder anxiously. "Uh, what's wrong with here?"

"We'll need the privacy."

"You don't think that's a little, uh―"

But Gladion ignored his floundering and got up, starting for the cafe door. When he sensed Guzma's hesitation, he turned around and prodded, "What's the matter?" He saw Guzma still glancing about worriedly. "Did someone follow you?"

"Nah! Just―" At last, Guzma pushed up from his chair and trotted behind him, trying to stay close and tugging his hood. He hissed nervously, "People are lookin' at us funny."

Reflecting on the closing scene in chapter 16:

For a long moment, Daturo sank into frantic thought. A loose plan formed in his brain, enough to make him say, "Guzma. This is what we'll do. You're gonna get in the car―"

"No―"

"You're gonna get in the car, and I'm going to get you someplace safe."

A moment of desperation cracked through Guzma's sobs. He started to stumble away, in an attempt to make a break for it.

But Daturo grabbed him by the arm again, making him fumble to his knees; he pulled him up, forcing him to stand facing him. "Hey! Stop! Listen to me! Have I ever hurt you?"

'Hurt.' Guzma thinks about fists that beat and clobber―palms that bruise―feet that kick. "No," he admitted.

"Haven't I always done what I promised?"

When Guzma hesitated, Daturo reached out and squeezed his shoulders, almost painfully. The touch made Guzma lean back―then forward―then back again, teetering on an edge of something. His sobbing started again, harsh and debilitating, causing him to convulse with gasps. Guzma gripped his aching head, crushing it between his arms it until it felt like it was about to burst open.

"Haven't I always looked out for you? Been a friend to you? That's why you called me, isn't it?"

When Daturo received no answer, he sighed and wrapped his arms about Guzma's seizing body. One arm folded across Guzma's back, just below his tense shoulder blades, pressing down firmly to suppress his shaking; with his other arm, he clutched a hand at the back of Guzma's bobbing head, pressing and nestling it just below his chin.

"Shh. Hey. Goose. Buddy. It'll be okay."

Guzma felt sick all over again―nauseated―the arms about him squeezed the spasms, swayed him gently. Cold passed over him, causing shudders, and in his diminishing strength, he lifted his hands and clawed his fingers into Daturo's uniform to keep upright. His tears moistened Daturo's shirt. The tips of his sneakers rubbed and dug into the dirt. Over the windless air, a distant siren let out a wail.

And the name origin for “Daturo:”

...Who first appears in the chapter “Devil and the Deep Blue Sea”: