#the euphoria i get when my code works is like . insane

[icarusgf]

finished programmign lab implemented snekoban i am a #womaninstem

[spacedreamhead]

- credits to this talented person who wasn’t linked on this image (source: pinterest)

Teaser of Exceptional

teaser part 1

bnha x reader

tw: 16+, violence

⊹ ⋆ ⊹ ⋆ ⊹ ⋆ ⊹ ⋆ ⊹ ⋆ ⊹ ⋆ ⊹ ⋆ ⊹ ⋆ ⊹ ⋆ ⊹ ⋆ ⊹ ⋆ ⊹ ⋆ ⊹ ⋆ ⊹ ⋆ ⊹ ⋆ ⊹

“You're surrounded, villain!”

A honey-sweet grin creeps onto your facial features and your pointed canines flash out in the white lantern light. Your eyes would sparkle with malicious euphoria if they were not covered by your midnight black visor. You playfully raise your hands upwards; your gaze focuses on the professional heroes who gather in front of you as a small group.

“Why are we waiting so damn long?”

“Kacchan, we are not allowed to-“

“How often should I tell you to address me with my code name during work?!”

The two heroes engage in a heated discussion and forget that the most wanted villain is in front of them.

“Midoriya! Bakugou! Stop arguing and concentrate!”, another hero interrupts the two quarrels, “he's running off!”

With these words, you shift a few gears higher; lightly dodge the attacks of the other professional heroes and turn into a dark side street as the three professional heroes sprint in your direction. However, an explosion surprises you from the left side; you cough quietly and wipe away the dirt from the lower half of your face.

“Damn you, freak!”

It crackles loudly on his hands before another detonation can be heard. It rings in your ears as he smashes your left side of the visor; glass splinters drill into your skin and a pathetic scream breaks out of your chest.

“Oh?”

His ruby-red earths glitter dangerously.

“You are a woman?”

You don't make any comment; you just annoyingly roll your eyes and take off the broken visor. Your eyes shine like stars at night; white flashes run over several parts of your body before you raise your hand to him.

His eyes dilate when a bright light envelops you both and impairs his vision; a violent bang sounds and the floor vibrates under your feet when using your quirk. A huge torrent of fire rises on the walls of the house, signalling the other heroes exactly where you are. Frantically, you keep sprinting and ignore the biting pain in your left cheek before you already notice the other rummering steps behind you.

“Todoroki, use your ice! Freeze her!”

The addressed man acts quickly but does not expect his ice to be enveloped in a white light and then to be absorbed. In amastement, he stops in his movement and looks at you. Midoriya also looks at you in surprise but quickly grasps the situation after a few seconds.

“We don't want to hurt you!”, he immediately calls to you while you scratch your forehead irritated. “We would like to suggest an offer to you!”, he continues to talk when he realises that you are listening to him. However, you roll your eyes annoyed; a mean comment lingers on your tongue and you shake your head; your hand extends in the direction of the two professional heroes. Though, someone grabs you from behind, twisting your one and then your other arm and you scream in insane pain. Tears collect in the corners of your eyes; you bite your lower lip and suppress your broken cry when you are overwhelmed by the infamous Bakugou Katsuki.

"Nah, nah, nah, not so fast, extra."

You gasp painfully as you hear a treacherous crack in your arm and this time your tears roll down your cheeks in thick drops. The hero above you puts on special handcuffs on your wrists and they prevent your superpower; a torturous cry departs from your soft lips because the handcuffs significantly slow down your healing process. He lifts you up in a fluid movement and grabs you on the jaw; focusses your view on the other two heroes.

”Kac- uh Dynamite, that was really not necessary”, says the green-haired man calmly, “she is hardly conscious.” However, an ignorant, disgusted expression forms on your facial features and your eyes burn holes in his body.

“When I get out of here”, it’s the first time they hear your voice and it resembles so much temerity and venom, “I'll kill you.”

“Oh, really?”

Bakugou painfully squeezes your cheekbones and elicits a painful moan from you.

"You are the first one before everyone else."

His deep, dangerous growl vibrates through your petite body; goosebumps creep up your back and you flinch under his firm grip.

“Then I'm curious to see how you want to kill me, darling.”

[meowmeowriley]

Hi MeowMeow Costume anon here sorry it’s taken a couple days for me to reply life got busy finding one’s honour is harder then I thought!

You want my autistic head canons for Zuko? Strap in for some unhinged rambling because I have ✨thoughts✨ this will be long

(CW: implied child abuse (Fuck Ozai))

Zuko likes music (Iroh mentiones he’s talented with the Tsungi horn) and his swords I also think he would have picked up dancing at some point with how he moved during dance of the dragons.

When he’s around people he trusts he emotes more with his face and masks less in general and I’d say if he felt safe enough he’d do more overt (for him) stimms like humming, minor rocking or tugging on his hair Iroh would be one of his safe people and eventually the gaang would be too

*I don’t think he’d have very obvious stimms in general being raised royal he’d be expected to act a certain way and hand flaps are not it. Also flaming 💩lord Ozai would have seen any aberrations as weakness and stamped that shit out fast

*I honestly think it could be one of the reasons the flaming 💩lord despises Zuko being inherently different would be a weakness in his eyes and reflect badly on him

I think he and May get along well because they’re both autistic and are a safe space for each other. she has trouble processing her emotions he has trouble controlling his they make good emotional counter balances

He cares so much about the people and animals around him even his enemies a strong sense of justice is a common sign of autism and speaking out of turn was the initial reason for his banishment.

He’s so socially awkward he doesn’t know how to talk with people instead of at them his entire pep talk to himself and subsequent introduction to the gaang when he tries to join them is peak “how do you do fellow kids” and his “that’s rough buddy” is as iconic as it is socially inept.

The guy totally hyper fixated on hunting the Avatar and when he could no longer find his purpose in it and realised he was wrong he did not cope

He has no tackt. none. and he takes things at face value and he hates lying his humour is also a little left leaning and he tries to relate to others and their experiences as a way of bonding.

While he’s not a prodigy fire bender like his sister he found ways around his limitations that helped accentuate his natural talents like his sword fighting (dancing would help with sword work) being incorporated into his bending (I don’t remember any other character bending with weapons).

He’d know a lot about tea from Iroh and I think he enjoyed working in the tea shop

Thank you for coming to my Ted talk!

I hope these make sense it’s kinda late now but this was fun to write thanks for reading my insane rambles :D

Also in response to the (non gendered) Prince! line you gave me so much surprise gender euphoria I cried 😭🫠🥹 sincerely thank you. I’m going with he/him pronouns atm but he/they is something I want to look into.

if you don’t mind me asking what are your pronouns?

I’ll probably send another ask in the next couple of days to annoy you with lol but in the meantime have a great day!

Sorry I took so long to get back to this, but damn I needed it today so I guess it's good I kept this in reserve. ❤

Holy shit, I can't unsee Zuko as autistic now. Like it's impossible. He's so perfectly coded to be on the spectrum. He's generally monotone, until he's not, and that's always when he's dealing with big emotions. He'd be a lip biter for sure.

Zuko doing dance as a stim 😍 the first time the Gaang sees him dancing when he thinks he's alone, they'd be so supportive, and have no idea what that would mean to him.

Fire lord Zuko infodumping about tea to some random person who tried to ask if he'd like them to make him some, as he heats the tea himself with his bending, and damn if that isn't the best tea that servant has ever had in their life.

Until next time my non gendered Prince Zuko! (Which will be in like, a few minutes, when I get to your other ask. Again sorry for the wait 😭 I'm bad at this)

[lucienne-thee-librarian]

While my brain is on the topic: I genuinely cannot imagine a show like Quantum Leap being made and being what it was even ten years ago. And that is insane in the best way.

Hell, even five years ago feels possible, but like a stretch. Irl changes in actual rights are one thing:/ but I think it'd hard to overstate just how much the state of trans representation has changed, on every level, throughout the 2010s and early 2020s. Visibility isn't everything, but it truly does matter.

Like, this show has a nonbinary character, played by a nonbinary actor, in the main cast, and it's treated as the utterly normal thing it is. And Ian is not a side character brought in for brownie points with at most one character trait tops besides that. They're a genius and a clotheshorse and they're neurotic about Ziggy and too secretive sometimes and a workaholic and loyal and an alien true believer (apparently which. Honestly why NOT, this is a show where time travel and body swaps are canonically a reality. Aliens feel almost mundane in comparison) Ian is a person, not a PSA.

THAT, to me, is why, by the time the show does get around to its Big Damn Trans Episode it doesn't feel like "okay great time for Ian, or some one note trans character to get hate crimed to wring pity out of a clearly presumed cis audience because clearly nothing else will make you respect this poor unfortunate soul". It's not that feeling at ALL, even if Ian has an entire Moment talking about *spoilers* their past suicide attempt. Partly because they hired a trans writer who knew what she was doing, (that's the thing too!!! The fact that ANY trans writers are making it in should NOT be a big thing but unfortunately it is) and an actor with talent...but also the show itself had worked Ian organically into the cast, and the universe, without clearly resting the audiences entire presumed sympathy on that pain. It let us get to know them alongside the rest of the cast. Ian makes jokes about Ben exploring his gender while being in the body of a woman and nobody bats an eye.

Shows like Euphoria, whatever you want to say about it, just wouldn't have happened back when I was a kid. A trans lead character who's a romantic lead and played by an actress who's actually trans, not a cis man in drag who's praised for his Bravery for a Controversial role? And the show didn't immediately get axed after one season or less, and protested into oblivion?? And there are several others too!! Pose is so fucking good it honestly makes me sick, like we could and should have had shows like this ALL THE TIME. Even cartoons nowadays?? It feels like we're being spoiled even if it's really what should've been normal all the time, because I remember when it was a DESERT. And the tumbleweed would call passersby slurs. Like. I think if you did not grow up or see a lot of media from the 90s and even 2000s you DO NOT UNDERSTAND how bad it was. A nonbinary character much less one being treated seriously but as a human being in a show on NBC???? Most networks would've laughed that idea out of the office upon first pitch. Nevermind the question of if they would've been played by a cis man. Of course they fucking would've. More than likely anyway.

What we have now, even if there's a lot more that there could be, is something I genuinely cannot imagine ever getting greenlit this much even as far back as my childhood or young adulthood. Most trans characters if they even existed thru the 90s and even 2000s, were either playing outright into the Straight Cis Dude Got Trapped by the Eeeeevil Trans Villainess trope (who is not just a villainess for any actual wrong things she does, but specifically for Lying and Being Trans...which is given WAY more cinematic weight of disgust and outrage by the cast than her crimes lbr. Soap Dish, literally every other 90s comedy apparently for some fucking reason I'm looking at you fuckers) ...OR the Mentally Troubled villains of crime shows whose gender was mainly coding. They were well-meaning but poorly written side characters at best. And usually even those, were left unhappy and rejected, traumatized, or dead. Orange is the New Black at least let their trans woman survive and the depiction of her pain feels like it's coming from the right place. But that was still The one type of sympathetic portrayal you were likely to get. And I may not be trans, don't have my own skin in this game, but it's still so heartwarming to see. We've got to look for what good we can right now, and I'm so glad even this much has changed. It's for the best.

[geminisholland]

Hi! What would you think about writing a fic where Tom and reader are both working on a show or movie or something, and they have feelings for each other, but they're too nervous to do anything, and then they both end up in a prop closet or something alone, and then ✨stuff✨ happens? If not that's fine!!

a/n: uhhh i got really carried away with this, and am really obsessed with the idea so thank u for sending it over!! also actress!reader is like my favorite trope to read so it really was no shock this was my favorite to write! i also did my best to portray tom as the gemini man he is. also, my inbox is open, send over requests!

warnings: cussing, sexual tension u could cut with a knife, an intense make out sesh (no smut)

word count: 2211

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if u are a struggling college student like me who doesn’t have any money, feedback and sharing my stories is a great way to support me. i love hearing feedback, so feel free to ask me or send any suggestions u may have, my inbox is open. i appreciate every single one of u more than u know. thank u thank u THANK U!!!!!

the long nights on set were beginning to catch up with you and your costars. every day you felt more delusional, surviving only by the caffeine that tom would bring every morning. it was really a routine at this point, you’d sit down in the chair of the hair and makeup trailer, and one minute later tom would stroll in with your exact order.

“and an iced matcha for the diva,” he liked to joke. that was his nickname for you, diva. he thought that maybe you’d pick up on his flirting if he started calling you names like diva, and princess. you payed no mind to him, because you thought he was making fun of you. that he didn’t take you seriously, and that was frustrating, because, well, you had feelings for him. you weren’t entirely sure how he felt about you, though, and it was driving you insane. you’d convince yourself you would be okay without him, that if he didn’t like you back, you’d survive it. but then he would walk in to the trailer, holding your matcha, and calling you diva. you couldn’t push aside the euphoria that rushed through your body every time he called you that. you actually really enjoyed it, but tried to ignore that as the embarrassment of him making fun of you settled in.

tom was really cocky too, but you assumed that came with being an excellent actor, and being quite successful. you’d talk to your friends about him, because when were you not talking to him? when were you not thinking about him?

“he’s so cocky, maybe i don’t actually have feelings for him,” you’d explain. “he walks around calling me names, who does he think he is?”

your friends would groan, because they heard this everyday. they would go from “yeah he sucks” to “aw, you should tell him how you feel, you two would be so cute together.”

you just felt so stuck. you’d act in scenes with him, and would feel the connection, but as soon as the director yelled cut the connection would turn to a code that you couldn’t decipher. you really couldn’t figure him out.

he would abruptly open your trailer door, and yell, “hey princess, let’s get going they’re ready for us!”

you’d roll your eyes, but walk with him to set anyways, because you enjoyed his presence. you were friends, at this point. he would invite you to his place for game nights, and take you out to dinner during particularly hard days. he would show up to your place, unannounced, with a pack of truly’s- just cause. you would give him rides to set, and get him his favorite food when he’s filming. you tried not to think about how often he would send you the “you up?” text, because you didn’t want to convince yourself this was something, when there was a possibility it was nothing.

but, you really liked him. he was tom holland, your celebrity crush. the person you’d call when you’re sad. the person who you’d run scenes with for hours on end, and never get tired of being around him. the person who you could just look at, and feel safe. he was home to you, you just didn’t know he felt the same. so, when the electricity went out during a particularly bad storm in Atlanta, and you and tom were in the supplies closet alone, you weren’t exactly prepared for what was about to happen.

“you really ordered an iced matcha while there’s, like, a borderline hurricane happening outside?” tom exclaimed. he stared at you as you stood up, and grabbed the drink from his hand.

“yes, i really did,” you shot back. “what are you gonna do? call me a ‘diva’?” you smiled at him, and his eyes slowly moved down your body than back up to meet your eyes. yes, he really did just check you out, but you were sure you only imagined that in your head.

“i might,” tom replied, then sat in the chair next to you. “it’s still early, though. there’s time to catch up on the name-calling.”

“i’m looking forward to it,” you teased, rolling your eyes at him. sometimes pushing tom was fun. tom shot you a glare, and you smiled to yourself as you sat back down.

“weather is crazy, huh?” tom observed. “i’m not the biggest fan of big storms like this.”

you looked over at him, noticing the concern on his face.

“i think they’re fun, i absolutely love just sitting at the window, and watching rain,” you confessed. the two of you were looking at each other, the only noise was the rain outside the trailer. your heart was beating so hard, you were certain tom could hear it. just the two of you, alone in a trailer. nothing new, yet something felt wildly different this time. perhaps it was tom’s vulnerability due to the storm happening outside.

the feelings you were marinating in were disrupted by the trailer doors being opened, and the makeup artists walking in.

“so sorry we’re late, the storm is insane,” one of them apologized.

“no need to be sorry, tanya, we’re just glad you got here safely,” you replied. tom nodded his head in agreement, and they started to work their magic on the two of you. while in the makeup chair, you and tom decided at the beginning of filming that you would switch who plays the music every day. so, your day to play the music was today, and even though the two of you agreed on this, tom complained.

“why can’t i just play the music today? you always play the same songs,” he whined. you rolled your eyes at him, trying to ignore him.

“oh god not taylor swift again!” tom groaned. you loved that even though you were the one who was perceived as dramatic, tom was actually the diva.

“tom, shut up,” you said back. “you are so annoying when it comes to this shit.”

you looked over at him, and he was looking at you. his eyes sparkled in the light, and you felt your stomach flutter at the way he stared you down. you looked away, staring back down at your phone to try and recover.

a few moments passed, and the two of you were done with hair and makeup. now was the real challenge, getting to the set during the insane storm.

“where’s the umbrella, tom?” you asked while you looked around.

“i have no idea,” he answered. you looked up and glared at him.

“didn’t you bring it over here? i could’ve sworn you were holding one when we walked here twenty minutes ago,” you mocked. tom smiled.

“it’s right here, i’m just messing with you,” he replied.

“you’re so annoying,” you remarked.

you grabbed your script and the matcha, then made your way over, talking about the scenes you were shooting today. this was something the two of you did almost every day, you liked to rehearse your lines before getting on the stage. when the two of you arrived, you set down your script, but kept drinking your matcha as you and tom started blocking. this was something you did before every scene, and was what made your days so long. you had to work out every detail of the scene you’d be filming before actually filming it; which was time-consuming, and sometimes frustrating. you and tom were set up at a table for this scene, sitting across from one another.

“y/n, if you could just move your head more towards the right, we’d get a better shot,” the director called out. so you did, and in doing so, your hand moved with you, and knocked the matcha off the table.

“oh shit,” you said, looking back at the director with an apologetic face. “i’ll clean it up, don’t even worry!”

tom sat across from you, laughing at you as you scooped the ice off the ground, and put it back into your cup.

“that doesn’t sound good,” the director replied.

“no, don’t even worry! i’m totally cleaning this up, it’s gonna be spotless,” you breathed out. you were extremely worried, though. the green liquid covered the floor of the diner set that was built. tom eventually started helping you.

“this is ridiculous, y/n, you can’t scoop the liquid with your hands,” he observed. “let’s go get some paper towels, okay?”

you looked up at him with watery eyes, you were worried that you had just ruined a set that took a while to build.

“okay,” you agreed. the director walked up to the two of you, looking at the spilled drink then back at you.

“i’d think paper towels would be more helpful than your hands, y/n,” he joked. “don’t you think?”

you nodded, “yes, tom and i will be right back with those.”

you and tom walked in silence over to the supplies closet, where they kept the paper towels.

“so embarrassing,” you let out under your breath.

“what was that?” tom asked. he opened the door to the closet, and turned the light on. the closet was huge, so both of you went in to look for the paper towels.

“it’s so embarrassing, doing that in front of everyone,” you admitted. “i shouldn’t have had my drink there.”

tom scoffed, “oh please, we all bring our drinks with us when we’re blocking, anyone could’ve done that!”

you nodded in agreement, uncertain of your voice at the moment, so you opted to stay silent. the lights started flickering right as you found the paper towels.

“that was weird,” tom announced.

“yeah, that was weird,” you replied.

the lights flickered again, and within seconds you were in pitch black.

“wow,” you let out. “tom, where are you?”

“i’m right here,” he said. you laughed, because you thought it was a ridiculous answer. you put your arms out, and tried to walk towards him.

“do you have your phone? i need a flashlight,” you asked.

“no, i left it out there,” he replied.

“shit, me too,” you noted. “put your arms out, i can’t find you.”

“okay,” he said. you walked for a few seconds, then ran into him.

“there you are,” you commented.

“here i am,” he said. the two of you were standing so close, his hot breath was felt on your face. your eyes started to adjust to the darkness, and you could see his features now. you could see his lips. oh my god, you could almost feel his body against yours. you felt butterflies in your stomach as you realized just how close he was to you. you could just touch him, you thought. you could, you really could just grab his face, and kiss him. right here, right now.

“should we try looking for the door?” you asked out loud. the silence was killing you, you had to escape it. tom stood still, breathing harder with every second. “tom?”

“you talk too much, you know that?” he breathed out. you were so taken aback by that statement, your breath grew shaky. “every time i try to make a move, you talk. you just-you talk too much.”

you stood there, in the dark, in absolutely disbelief.

“oh,” you let out. you didn’t know what to do, you were frozen. your eyes were completely adjusted now, and you could see tom more clearly. his face, his arms, his hands, everything. his hands moved up your body, starting at your hips then making their way to your face. you brought your hands around his neck, you were breathing so hard you felt as if you could pass out.

“you are so beautiful, y/n,” he revealed. “so fucking beautiful.”

you smiled, although you weren’t sure he could see that. your hands moved to his face, you cupped his cheeks into your hands. tom moved his face closer to yours, cupping your cheeks as well. he placed his lips onto yours, then started to kiss you. like, really kiss you. not a cute, little peck that you would see in the movies. a rough, passionate kiss. the kiss you had been waiting for all this time. one of his hands dropped to your lower back, and he pushed your body onto his. your hands started to move under his shirt, as your tongues started to swirl together. your cheeks flushed as the warmth of his tongue and body encapsulated you. his hand moved off your cheek, and started to move under your shirt to take it off.

the door abruptly opened, and a bright flashlight made you and tom move your hands up to your face. your bodies broke apart, but the damage was done.

“tom, y/n, we need you back on set, they’re about to turn on the generator,” one of your costars said. “oh, don’t forget the paper towels.” they started laughing, as well as both you and tom.

the three of you walked back, and you wiped your mouth, then looked at tom. he smiled at you, then put his hand around your waist.

you leaned into him, then whispered, “we’ll have to finish that later.”

he shook his head in agreement, “okay, diva.”

taglist;

@zspideyy @lilhoodhippie @th45 @lmaotshollandd @hollandfanficlove 

[lovemesomesurveys]

Covid How is Covid where you live? Well, they tightened up again about wearing masks everywhere, regardless of if you’ve been vaccinated or not. I have heard the number of cases have gone down here, though.

Are you having a food shortage crisis due to drivers having covid and unable to work? No.

Are you using check in QR codes or filling in manual check ins everywhere you go? I haven’t had to do that.

Are you washing your hands/using sanitizer when you can? Constantly. Whenever I see a hand sanitizer station anywhere I use it and I have my own I carry around and use as well.

What is one thing about covid that is driving you insane? It’s just wild to me that we’re even experiencing something like this in our lifetime.

Are you sick of everyone talking about covid? It is the center of everything now, understandably so, and admittedly it is tiring. However, it’s a serious thing that needs to be talked about still and it’s important that people don’t get too lax about it. Unfortunately, that’s what I’ve seen happen.

Do you find you clash with anyone when discussing covid? No. It’s not something I tend to talk much about either.

What are your thoughts on the vaccinations and boosters? I’m not anti-vax.

What has covid taken from you or prevented? My family and I have been very, very fortunate to not really be affected much by it.

Do you know anyone that has covid? how are they doing? No.

Life How is life for you right now? Shitty.

Are you Okay? “I'm not okay I'm not okay Well, I'm not okay, I'm not o-fucking-kay I'm not okay.”

What is impacting your life the most right now? My mental and physical health.

what is something positive that has happened to you recently? Uhhhhhh.

Any goals for 2022? I haven’t set any or attempted anything as of now.

Did you make any new year resolutions? I don’t bother with those.

Seeing many friends through the pandemic? No.

Are you studying? No, I’m not in school.

Are you working? No, I’m unemployed as well. 

Any new hobbies? I was starting to get into doing puzzles for a bit, but that kinda died. 

Friends Who is your best friend? My mom.

How long have you been friends? All my life. What is something about them that makes you smile? She’s funny. Have they ever supported you through something major? Uh, yeah. More times than I could ever count. My mom is amazing. Tell me a memory of you both together? There’s so many. Ever travelled together? Yeah, many times. Do you share similar interests? Yes.  One band or artist you both enjoy? Ariana Grande. One hobby you both enjoy? Reading. Name a movie you both love. We both really enjoy Marvel and Star Wars movies. Name a television show you both enjoy? There’s several. We’re currently watching Euphoria, Servant, The Sinner, and The Book of Boba Fett. Any nick names for eachother? Yeah. Partner

Do you have a partner? Nope.

Where Did You Meet? --

Who made the first move? -- Have you or have they said 'I Love You' --

Do you get bored in a long term relationship I’ve never had one.

Much drama in your relationship? --

Are they loyal and loving? --

Name 3 things you have in common --

Random Where are you from? California.

If you could travel ANYWHERE right now, money wasn't a barrier, where would you go and why? That’s so hard because there’s so many places I’d love to be able see at least once in my life.

[lilacmoon83]

Lightning in a Bottle

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 24: Whatever it Takes, Pt 2

Margaret was in heaven, as he kissed her deeply, which was in concert with the actions of the rest of his body. She lay pinned beneath him, bare and their bodies blissfully joined together in the act of lovemaking. Even though he had gotten home late, which she completed understood the reason for, he was making it up to her.

"David…" she mewled in pleasure, as he brought her to the edge and carried her over into a euphoria that had her writhing beneath him. She knew only he could bring her such. They had always been so in sync, whether it be emotionally, mentally, or physically. His climax was only seconds behind her and they slowly came down from the high. Sometimes she still couldn't believe that she had gotten him back. Her world had literally crashed to complete devastation, with only her daughter to give her a reason to go on and the only one that had held her back from complete insanity. Had she lost Olive too, she was certain she would have been broken completely and probably ended up institutionalized somewhere. Then he returned to her and with him, her son and best friend and turned the light on inside her that went out when they disappeared. Losing him again couldn't happen; it wasn't an option. A second time would kill her; she was certain of it. But she banished those worries and trepidations that all this was too good to be true from her mind and instead focused on him and being in his arms once again.

Margaret cuddled against him and rested her head on his chest, as they basked in the afterglow. As they lay together, softly kissing, he noticed that she seemed a bit distracted now.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Mmm…Henry asked if he could go back to school today," she replied. He sighed. He supposed he should have expected that conversation.

"And you think we should let him?" he asked.

"He is better...his cancer is in remission and I think he misses normalcy," she replied.

"He is...and I agree. I'm just worried about what happens if his connection to Anton rears its head again," he said.

"And I am too...but he really wants to and as long as he's healthy, I'm not sure we shouldn't let him. Regina says his cancer is all but gone...I think he just wants to be normal again," she replied, which reminded him of a conversation he had with their son on the plane.

~*~

Flashback

As the plane touched down on the tarmac, there was some cheering, as they had been forced to circle for a while, before being diverted. He had no idea what that was all about, but he was just relieved that they were home and couldn't wait to see his wife and daughter, whom he still had to call and tell that they had been diverted to another airfield. He looked at his phone and became perplexed though.

"No signal...seriously?" Emma asked.

"Yeah...mine too," he replied, as he looked at his son.

"Hey...why the long face? We're home," he reminded him. Henry looked at him and it nearly broke his heart.

"When we were on vacation, I felt like I didn't have cancer anymore," Henry replied.

"I know, buddy," David said softly.

"But now that we're back in New York...I have cancer again. Part of me never wanted to come back here," he replied.

"I know...and Mom and I felt that way too. We even talked about just staying on the beach forever with you and Ollie. But life, unfortunately, just doesn't work that way. We're going to keep fighting though," he promised.

~*~

"You're right…" he agreed, as they had gotten up and put their robes on. They were both now in their son's room, watching him sleep. Despite being the middle of the night, they weren't the only ones awake and heard someone in the kitchen.

"Emma's probably eating blueberry pop-tarts," Margaret whispered. He kissed her tenderly.

"I'll go see what's going on with her," he said, as he left her to keep watch on their son, while he went to the kitchen.

"Hey…" he said, as he came in.

"Hey," she replied, as she drank cocoa and munched on a pop-tart.

"That's a lot of sugar at two in the morning," he mentioned.

"Did MM make you say that?" she asked and he chuckled.

"Of course...but seriously, you only eat this stuff in the middle of the night after a nightmare," he replied. She nodded.

"Was it about the night Lily died again?" he asked.

"Actually no...it was about Killian," she replied.

"A nightmare about Killian?" he asked.

"It was more unease than anything. I think we're being watched...and getting Killian involved was a mistake. What if knowing all this puts him in danger?" she asked.

"I've thought about that...especially with Margaret. But keeping something...anything from her just isn't an option for me. Especially something like this," he replied. She sighed.

"I know...but he's not with me. He's married to someone else. I mean, how do you think his wife would feel if she found out that her husband risked his entire career and livelihood to cover for his ex?" she asked. He winced.

"Not great…" he agreed.

"But that was his choice. You offered to come clean and he wouldn't let you," he reminded her. She snorted.

"I didn't have to listen to him," she muttered.

"But you did, because you respect him and there's still feelings there," he mentioned.

"Don't start with that," she protested.

"I'm not saying act on those feelings...but you probably should deal with them so you can move on," he said. She gave him a withering gaze.

"That is exactly what MM would tell me," she replied. He smirked.

"Well, she is my wife and soul mate...and she's always right," he said. She sighed and didn't protest that.

"Yeah...well, it's easier said than done. Meanwhile, what are you doing up and believe me, I'm trying to ignore your sex hair, cause that can't be the only reason," she said. He chuckled at that.

"We...we were just talking about Henry. He wants to go back to school and I'd be lying if I said that it didn't scare me," he said.

"You mean because of Anton?" she asked. He nodded.

"I just...maybe we should find him first. I mean, what if Henry relapses?" he asked. She sighed.

"David...you need to realize that it could be a while or never when we do find him. I think letting Henry go back to something of a normal life is the best thing. For all of us...especially if we are being watched," Emma replied.

"MM thinks so too," he mentioned.

"And she's always right," Emma teased and he smiled.

"Okay...good late night talk," he said, as he stood up.

"Get some sleep," he urged.

"You too," she replied.

"We'll see," he said slyly.

"Eww…" she complained, as she headed back downstairs and he went to the bedroom.

"Is she okay?" Margaret asked. He nodded.

"She is...and you're right about Henry. We should let him go back to school," he agreed. She smiled and kissed him.

"I'll get him registered...and everything is going to be okay," she promised. He smiled and kissed her again.

"You're right...because I have you," he said, as he caressed her face gently. Their lips met again and a second bout of passion consumed them.

~*~

After a restless night, Emma was on her way to the station when she received the call. They had a possible jumper and they wanted her there, because it was an 828 passenger. She rushed to the scene and arrived to find Killian and other officers already on the scene.

"Do you recognize him?" Killian asked.

"No...but I don't have the passenger roster memorized like my brother," Emma replied.

"We identified him as Felix Smith," one of the officers said. Emma vaguely remembered seeing him on the plane and that's when she heard her own voice again, in her head.

"Don't Lose Him," the voice said. Another Calling and she took a deep breath.

"I'm going up to talk to him," she said.

"All right...let's get a harness on you," Killian agreed, as they got her ready.

~*~

"And now...we're in," Billy said, as he showed David some of the coding procedures.

"Nice…I think it's starting to come back to me. Thanks for taking the time to run through this with me," he said.

"No problem," Billy said, as he stood up and David knew it was now or never. He felt badly about it, but pretended to accidentally stumble and knock the coffee cup in Billy's hand all over him.

"Oh my God...I'm so sorry! I'm so clumsy," he said, as he tried to help the now irritated IT tech clean off with some paper towels.

"Ugh...it's okay. I got it," Billy said, as he headed for the bathroom. David looked back at the laptop and took a flash drive out of his pocket. He quickly found his way into the UDS coding and through into the account. He smirked, as it was everything needed. He put the flash drive in the slot and initiated the copy. He tapped his foot impatiently and heard footsteps coming toward the room. It was undoubtedly Billy and he had only seconds. Fortunately, he finished and ejected the flash drive, before standing up from the table.

"I'm really sorry...and thanks again," David said. Billy smiled.

"No worries...and I know you didn't mean to," he replied. David nodded and returned to his desk, with the flash drive safely in his pocket.

~*~

Emma opened the door to the roof of the building and slowly stepped onto the rooftop.

"Stay back!" Felix cried.

"Felix...it's okay. My name is Emma Nolan...I was on the plane too," she told him. He squinted his eyes, as if trying to place her, and then shook his head.

"No...stay away!" he insisted.

"Felix...I know what you're going through," she promised, as she slowly moved closer.

"It has to stop…" he cried, as there were tears in his eyes.

"What has to stop?" she asked.

"People are dying and it's my fault!" she replied.

"I'm sure that's not true," she said.

"No...you don't understand! There's only one way to stop it!" he claimed, as he looked down.

"I can see my house from here…" he said quietly.

"Felix...if you just come down, I know I can help you find out why these people close to you died," Emma replied.

"No...you can't. No one can help. More will die, unless I die instead," Felix insisted.

"Felix...no, that's not true. Please don't do this!" she pleaded, but he jumped anyway and she rushed to the edge. She lowered her head, as she saw him, dead on the pavement. She lost him...she had failed another Calling.

~*~

David suppressed an eyeroll, as he made his way toward Doc's office. The guy was the definition of an inept manager, who spent his time in his office, trolling the internet and eating junk food, while his employees did his allotment of work and made him look good. He drove a Maserati, while the real workers made peanuts. Working here was necessary though, but hopefully not for much longer. He couldn't risk looking at the flash drive here at work, but he couldn't wait to get home to do so either.

"Hey…" David stepped into his office and Doc waved him in.

"Man…I have been all over the 828 conspiracy sites this morning. There is some insane chatter," he said. David hated those sites and how his entire family was splashed all over them. It was bad enough that he and Emma were all over them, but it made his blood boil that his wife and children were also on the sites.

He was about to tell him that he was done with what he'd been given and was bored out of his mind, but the fire alarm went off, interrupting them.

"Okay...fire drill! Everyone file out down the stairs calmly," Doc called. David followed the other employees to the lobby and outside into the courtyard. He saw Vance and Gold standing by a tree and watched them casually walk away. He realized that they were likely the cause of the fire drill and casually followed them, until he was in the parking garage.

"Phone," Vance said.

"Excuse me?" David asked.

"Give me your phone...it's bugged," Vance clarified.

"You bugged my phone?!" David asked, as he handed it over and watched Vance stomp on it.

"We're the NSA...we bug everything," Vance said.

"Then why are you here?" David asked.

"I know about the flash drive. You realize that I could arrest you for corporate espionage?" he asked.

"But you haven't," David replied.

"Have you looked at any of the data?" Vance asked.

"Not yet...I can't here without getting caught," David replied.

"You can now...if you agree to work with us," Vance said, as he gave him a new phone and laptop.

"Wait...now you want to work with me?" David asked. Vance sighed.

"We saw the farm...and we saw the evidence," he said.

"Then why do you need me? Why don't you just take the flash drive and hand it off to one of your analysts?" David questioned and Gold smirked. Vance sighed.

"Because the minute I do...they'll be onto us and that data is too raw for me to make any sense of. Perhaps you can crack it though," he said. David sighed.

"So now you want me to trust you?" he asked.

"I know that's a risk, but I do respect your quest to keep your family safe," Vance replied. David took the devices and looked at them both.

"I'll see what I can find," he said, as he headed back inside, just as his new phone showed that he had a missed call from Emma.

"Hey...sorry I missed your call," David said, as he took the stairs.

"It happened again. A Calling...and I failed it," Emma told him.

"Okay...slow down," he said, as he stopped in the stairwell.

"One of the passengers, Felix Smith...jumped off a roof. He kept saying that people around him were dying and the only way to stop it from happening again was if he died instead. The Calling told me not to lose him...and I did," Emma said and he could tell she was really distraught.

"Oh Emma...I'm so sorry, but him jumping is not your fault," he reasoned.

"How do you know? The Calling was pretty clear," she sniffed.

"The Callings are never clear...you know that. Do you know why he thought people around him were dying?" he asked.

"Not yet...Killian and are headed to his place to search it soon," Emma answered.

"Okay...keep me posted and don't blame yourself. We'll figure this out...all of it," he promised, as he hung up and returned to his desk with his new laptop. He put the other one away and set up the new one. He looked around and without further delay, he put the flash drive in and delved into the raw data.

~*~

After her last class let out, Margaret arrived at Olive's school. The High School she attended was also connected to the Middle School and the Elementary School, which made her feel a little about enrolling Henry in school. At least she knew that Ollie would be there with him before and after school and perhaps even at lunch. Registering him was fairly quick and easy and she met her daughter outside at the car.

"Hey Mom…" Olive said, as they shared a hug.

"Hey sweetheart, how was your day?" she asked.

"Great...is Henry starting school tomorrow?" she asked, as they got in the car.

"He is and I know he's going to protest, but will you please walk him to his class in the morning and make sure he gets settled okay?" Margaret asked. Olive chuckled.

"Don't worry...I've got it, Mom," Olive promised, as they were about to get in when a man approached them.

"Mrs. Nolan…" Sidney greeted.

"You again? Are you following me?" Margaret asked in an accusatory tone. He put his hands up and kept his distance.

"I know I might seem persistent, Mrs. Nolan...I simply just want to tell your side of the story," Sidney said.

"How did you even know where I was going to be if you're not following me?" Margaret asked defensively.

"I am an investigative reporter, Mrs. Nolan...finding out where your daughter goes to school was not difficult," he replied. That alarmed her too. He was digging into their lives and she didn't like it at all.

"Listen…I don't know what your agenda is, but I don't like it. I'm not giving you an interview and I want you to leave us alone. My sister-in-law is a cop and if you come near us again, I'll slap you with a restraining order so fast, it will make your head spin!" Margaret threatened, as she ushered Olive into the car. Mr. Glass watched, as she hurried to the driver's side and sped away.

He walked back to his car and made a call, as he drove back to his office.

"I cornered her at the school, as instructed. She reacted much in the way you said she would," Sidney reported.

"Good...slowly driving that little retch crazy is going to be entertaining, to say the least," the female voice said.

"Mrs. Mills-Blanchard...I am a reporter, not a stalker. This makes me highly uncomfortable and it could get me terminated from the newspaper," Sidney argued.

"I am paying you more than you make in five years to do this one job. You cashed a check, Mr. Glass and I expect the job to be completed, unless you'd like to face a breach of contract," Cora said in an icy tone.

"Yes, Mrs. Mills-Blanchard," he relented.

"Good...I'll be in touch for our next move," she said, as the line went dead.

[ally-127]

locker room

genre: badboy!AU smut

pairing: OG character badass! lisa (this isn’t lisa from blackpink but you can imagine it’s her in the story if you’d like) x badboy!jaemin

summary: lisa left class to get some fresh air and away from his suffocating stare that he was giving her while she was doing her presentation. who knew that he would actually follow her right out. he was na jaemin, after all. one thing led to another and... you all know the whole shebang.

warning: smut and quite a bit of swearing oops (read at your own risk)

word count: 2.9k +

song: FOCUS ON ME - jus2 (got7 subunit)

i wrote this without any capitalisation so beware

“lisa, why are you so nervous?” a deep voice questions from right in front of her.

she looks down from the projector screen and at her hands. her eyes slowly lift up and she sees him crack the biggest smile. she isn’t nervous. she’s just irritated.

“you’re so cute.”

the entire class erupts into laughter. aimed at him or her, she didn’t know. impulsively, she runs out of class and into the hallway. before she knows it, he appears right behind her, sneakers screeching against the tiled floors from his abrupt halt as he saw her.

“what are you doing?”

she’s at a loss for words. the biggest fuckboy, and someone who lisa wants to think meant nothing to her, has followed her right out the classroom. his lips are parted expectantly, his dark pink hair swaying across his eyes. she shakes her head. she’s living in a whole fucking cliché.

“lisa,” he murmurs.

“you’re fucking embarrassing me in front of the whole class,” lisa spits at him, the tips of her ears red from both humiliation and anger.

jaemin crooks an eyebrow and takes a few steps toward her.

“you’re mad?” he probes.

“what does it look like?” she crosses her arms, glaring at the boy who seemed so unbothered it annoyed her.

“it looks like you want me,” he leans on the locker and hooks his finger under her chin. the badboy persona really shines when he’s around her. being around her gives him a boost of confidence, of his ego. “do you?”

he angles her chin up so she’s looking straight into those warm brown, mischievous irises of his.

she scoffs and jerks her chin away from his hand. “not everything’s about you, na jaemin.”

“you didn’t say that when you were in my bed last friday night,” he murmurs.

“i—what?” lisa frowns.

“oh, come on,” he doesn’t need tilt her head for her to stare at him. it’s so simple. he’s gorgeous and he himself knows that.

footsteps resonates from somewhere far away. by the sound of it, it’s someone wearing high heels. their teacher.

“jaemin? lisa?” her voice rings through the hallway.

“oh fuck,” jaemin rakes a hand through his dark pink hair.

lisa’s eyes widens.

instinctively, he reaches forward to grab lisa’s wrist. she hates it when he touches her in public, but this time she lets it slide.

he looks around, panicked. he squints at a white metal door, labelled GIRLS LOCKER ROOM. and then he turns his head to look at her. she shakes her head, as if saying “that’s a terrible idea”.

his eyebrows furrowed as he grits his teeth, brown eyes fuming with desperation to get out of being caught.

“if we don’t go right now, we’re toast.” he forces out. “please.”

in his brown eyes, lisa saw something she’s never seen before.

“i’m already on probation.”

silence from her.

“i’ll be expelled.” he finally says.

lisa hasn’t found the words to say but regardless she runs, pulling him with her. he lets out a noise similar to yelp as she drags him to the locker room, the shuffling of their sneakers against the ground echoing in the hallway.  the door of the locker room falls shut, lisa hurrying to it to turn the lock on the door knob.

“damn it, she heard us,” he murmurs.

“yeah you should have thought about that before following me out of class, huh. ” lisa crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow.

“can’t help it,” his serious expression completely changes when his lips quirk up into a cheeky smile. “this skirt you’re wearing— ” he extends his index finger, clad in a silver ring lisa always sees him wearing. the tip of his finger brushes against the skin on the inside of her wrist. “—is driving me insane.”

“you disgust me,” lisa spits and turns away. she’s suddenly self-conscious about the pencil skirt she’s wearing. it isn’t even short, rising about two inches above her knees. she doesn’t want to be dress coded.

“me?” jaemin clutches his hand to his chest. his pretty lips forms a pout, face mocking her. “ouch.”

“jaemin, i swear to god.” she glares at him. “i will—“

“you’ll what?” he inches closer.

“i’ll...” once again, she can’t seem to find the right words to say.

“what about this,” he’s probably plotting something in that complicated mind of his.

lisa leans on the locker, waiting for him to draw out something strange as a proposition to pass time.

“we utilise the time we have right now,” his eyes drift up to see the clock hung up on the wall above the lockers. “we’ve got an hour to spare.”

“jaemin,” she sighs. “why?”

“why what?” jaemin’s front teeth sinks into his bottom lip.

“why would you risk expulsion just to follow me out?”

“because lisa, it’s you.” he says plainly.

“bullshit,” lisa spits. “you tell this to every girl you fuck, don’t you?”

“i don’t fuck anyone but you.” genuine hurt flashed in his eyes. in those eyes lisa saw a fracture in the mask of him––being someone who hits and runs, of someone who is afraid of commitment––that he’s been wearing this whole time. a fracture where maybe there is hope for him.

but no, she refuses to believe that.

“then who was that girl you—“

“right, because you believe all those girls you constantly surround yourself with.” without even saying anything else, jaemin already knew where lisa got her information from.

lisa is silent.

“they’re toxic,” jaemin says. his face is like an open book. it has disgust written all over it.

“what do you know about toxic?” lisa counters. “look at the guys you hang out with.”

“fair enough,” he breathes, jaw unclenching and eyes softening.

for the first time ever, she saw something like hurt flash in those brown eyes of his. seeing jaemin actually affected by what she said sparks up something in lisa. now, he doesn’t dare meet her eyes and that’s never happened before. ever.

she opens her mouth to say something, but can’t when jaemin covers her lips with his own, arms snaking around her waist to pull her closer.

he murmurs her name and pushes her against the locker. hands braced on the cold metal surface, he pulls away from her painfully. adrenaline courses through their bodies as their breathing becomes more laboured. jaemin cracks a smile, chest heaving up and down.

“we’re doing this, aren’t we?”

“shut up and kiss me,” lisa tugs him back to her with fingers bunched around his t-shirt.

jaemin laughs against her lips. lisa feels his teeth scrape her bottom lip from his smile, forcing her mouth open. and then his tongue slips in. sneaky bastard.

he grunts when she lifts his shirt over his head, tossing it to the side and out of the way. jaemin removes his mouth from her only to attach it to her neck. his arms bring her even closer until he was flush against her body. her hands wander across his abdomen, her fingertips feeling the defined crevices of his abs.

he sucks on the delicate skin of her neck, triggering a moan from the girl pinned against the locker. she closes her eyes while he works his way down. his fingers push the collar of her t-shirt to the side for access to her pale skin.

“we’re short on time,” jaemin kneels down on the ground, in front of where she wants him the most.

“you think i don’t know that?” lisa leans her head against the metal door of the locker, hands in his hair.

he traces the waistband of her skirt, eyes flicking up at her intently. on his lips is a smirk, knowing how much she wants him regardless of the way she acted towards him. he’s teasing her and she might light on fire if he doesn’t do anything.

he slides his hands around her hips to search for the zipper. he finds it, sliding it down. lisa feels the garment loosen around her.

“may i?” jaemin is the only thing keeping her skirt in place. he stands back up, hands still clutching the skirt. he’s waiting for her approval, her consent.

“yes,” lisa places her hands on his shoulders when he lets her skirt fall to the floor.

“jump, baby.” he whispers in her ear.

she does exactly as he says, her legs enveloping around his waist. her arms flies around his shoulders, her lips trailing up his neck to the back of his ear, where she whispers,

“you better hurry or we’ll get caught.”

as if the thought of getting caught turns jaemin on, he groans and lisa feels his hard-on pressing against her clothed core. his hands slide up her legs and to the waistband of her underwear.

despite all the heat that simmers between them, his eyes are worried as he asks, “are you sure?”

“jaemin,” she breathes in his ear, giving a taste of what he won’t hear if he kept this up. “yes, i am.”

“a hundred percent?” he just has the audacity to ask so many questions while he stands right between her legs, doesn’t he?

“fuck me already, jaemin.” lisa sinks her teeth into his neck and just like that, he throws his head back as a moan escapes his lips.

his look of euphoria distorts into a seductive smirk, wrapping an arm around her waist. his other hand reaches between their two bodies to the waistband of her underwear, curling his fingers in and dragging it down to her ankles, where he expertly completely rids her of that last clothing that is in the way.

“it’ll be my pleasure,” he says lowly, almost like a growl.

his fingers stretch forward to give lisa her the first stroke on her bundle of nerves.

she arches against the locker. jaemin slides his arm that was around her body out only to cover her mouth with his large hand, preventing the sounds of her moans to echo across the locker room out and into the open. there’s nothing left to support her except jaemin’s toned torso and the hard locker.

“you have to be quiet for me, okay?” jaemin. “or we’ll get into fucking trouble.”

lisa nods against his hand around her mouth and squeezes her eyes shut as he inserts two fingers into her. under his hand she bites her lip. hard.

“fuck,” jaemin pants.

he pumps his digits in and out of her and watch lisa completely lose it under him. suddenly, his black jeans are too tight around his crotch. his thumb rubs circles around her folds to penetrate her even further than he already has. his bottom lip catches under his teeth while he increases his speed, already feeling her walls tighten around his fingers.

he knows she’d come undone when he whispers, “come for me, baby.”

she screams into his palm as the first release shatters through her. complete and utter pleasure runs through her bloodstream like a drug.

jaemin removes his hand from her mouth and brings his arm down once again to wrap around lisa’s figure. he peers at her face, beautiful and flustered. he feels her chest rising and falling heavily against his own and he couldn’t take how much his arousal piled up in his pants anymore.

“lisa,” he whispers as he retracts his fingers from her.

“what, jaemin?” lisa rests her head in the crook of his neck while she recovers from her high.

“i want to—“

“just do it,” she already knows what he was going to say. “fuck me.”

a silver package appears in his hands after sliding it into the back pocket of his jeans. to save him some work, lisa reaches forward between them to unbuckle his belt and unbutton his jeans. she huffs a laugh after seeing the tent that forms in his jeans.

jaemin glares at her dangerously without a word being said. just from that look, lisa feels herself drip between her legs.

“no regrets?” he hums in her ear, his voice a sweet melody she’ll never get used to hearing.

“no regrets.”

below her line of vision, lisa hears the unrolling of latex. jaemin slides the condom over his length with one hand, the other running up and down lisa’s bare legs. he just wants to please her. he just wants to make her feel so good she forgets her own name.

“lisa,” he groans as he runs his length along her folds.

“jaemin,” lisa echoes. her hands somehow found their way back into his hair.

he reaches down to align himself up with her. “i love you.”

he didn’t give her time to respond when he pushes his length into her. jaemin presses his lips onto hers as if he could swallow the whimpers that escape from them.

he keeps his grip on her firm as he starts off excruciatingly slow, in order for her to adjust to his size. sliding out of her slowly, he thrusts himself roughly back into her. the impact made her cry out, her eyelids screwing shut.

“jaemin,” it may be blood she tastes in her mouth from biting her lip too hard.

she has her head buried in his shoulder while he rolls his hips into hers, length fucking her with deep, solid strokes.

“you feel so good,” he purrs in lisa’s ears, sending shivers down her spine.

his hips, flush against hers, made him sink into her to the hilt she started seeing stars. he maintains eye contact with her while he develops a rhythm. a rhythm that he’s never used on her before. a rhythm more harsh, more punishing.

his mouth remains close to her ear, whispering profanities with every plunge he makes. his fingernails dig into the skin of her hips, marking her and bruising her skin. her fingers pull on his hair, multiplying the wave of pleasure that seems to strike jaemin all at once. the tightness around his cock, the tug in his hair...

it took all his might not to come right there and then.

speaking of which, he’s about to drive lisa over the edge once again. and he can FEEL it. he feels her thighs trembling and the sinful sounds that slip out her mouth gradually getting louder.

lisa, too, is trying her best to last. but with jaemin, it’s almost impossible. she feels pressure build up in her abdomen, her walls closing in on him. she trembles under his erratic movements, tugging harder on his hair and teeth sinking into the skin of his neck.

“c’mon, baby. you can do it.” those are simple words that slip out carelessly out of jaemin’s lips. those are words that lisa knows will bring her to her climax. “come for me.”

“fuck, jaemin,” release barrels down her spine, her cry muted by his mouth over hers. the second climax that struck her is the biggest one yet, where she trembled in his arms from pleasure. seeing release unravel her causes jaemin’s own release to  hit.

he drags out a low groan as he presses his head on the locker, beside lisa’s head when he released into condom.

“fuck, lisa,” his pants are hard.

she tilts her head back while they ride out their high. her walls pulsate around his cock and jaemin almost comes again just by the feel of it. he places his lips on her neck, his tongue swiping by her collarbone. he sucks on the skin by her collarbone, knowing very well it would mark her. she moans for the last time after feeling jaemin’s teeth settle in the hollow of her neck.

he pulls out of her, ridding himself of the condom by tossing it in the bin placed conveniently at the corner. he lets her down, careful to hold her up with both his arms.

“can you walk?” jaemin’s tone is teasing while a smirk hangs on his face.

“fuck you,” lisa glares at him.

“already did,” he shrugs.

lisa groans and places a hand on her forehead. they promised each other. no regrets.

“okay,” he bends down to hook his arm behind her knees and across her shoulders.

she shrieks when he lifts her up in his arms. “jaemin— i need to put my clothes back on.”

“let’s streak in the hallway, shall we?” he nuzzles his nose in the crook of her neck.

“so much for caring about being expelled,” lisa rolls her eyes but regardless links her arms around his neck. “please let me down.”

“but i love you,” he whispers into her ear.

she goes very still.

it’s been years since she’s heard those words from him. last time he said it, it was a dare from a foolish friend and just now, before he lost himself inside of her.

“jae—“

“i really do, lisa.”  he lets her down, back onto her feet. “i was hoping maybe we could try.”

lisa slips her clothing back on, reaching to the back and zipping her skirt up while her eyes remains constantly on his.

“i...” she takes one step closer to him. “we can try.”

“we can?” his eyebrows perk up. lisa laughs at his adorable expression.

“only because i love you too,” she cups his chiseled jaw in her hands gently. “but you better not tell anyone.”

he smiles brighter than the sun that leaks through the window, leaning forward and nudging his nose against hers, making her laugh again.

a/n i know this isn’t your usual ‘y/n’ story but i really hoped you enjoyed my first ever smut published on tumblr!! i tried to make it as something that can proceed without a plot but i can’t seem to write anything without a little backstory. 

anyway, i find myself enjoying writing these one-shots so prepare for many more to come since i have nothing to do with my life

lots and lots of love,

ally

[insane-control-room]

The Concept, Chapter 5

Ao3 Link

It’s been too long since I’ve gone on.

Warning: Contains themes and scenes that are not suitable for everyone. Specifics are: overdose, suicidal ideation and related, depression, and insanity

Henry learned rather quickly the place he found himself in was hell.

Then again, he knew it from the time he worked there, but the disheveled state of the building made the tyranny of the aura all the more prevalent.

There were locked doors, broken and flickering lights, creaking floorboards, the massive ink machine he remembered Joey tinkering with and creating.

Joey Drew. The name left a sour taste in his mouth.

Henry easily powered up the machine

He almost jumped out of his skin when a plank fell from the ceiling, cursing it out and sputtering, hand gripping his heart.

The damn cutout that just… appeared, out of nowhere, almost like it was set up, it’s black, dark, venomous pie cut eyes following him, trained on him, a vice on his body.

He looked beyond it.

He stiffened, walking up to the… thing mechanically, no choice but to investigate, to try and piece together the shattered bits of clues.

The… the sight of Boris’ mangled and vivisected body. It was sick, something very wrong.

Preternatural, twisted a fairytale gone south faster than the stock market crash of ‘29.

Henry did not have very many good memories of working here, but his old desk brought in a wave of nostalgia. But from what? Maybe it was just the joy of animation. Of bringing things to life with his hands.

To grow and create.

Back in the day, Joey made him stay late with him to work on animations.

Pushed him, encouraged his workaholism.

Work hard, work happy.

Then it got worse.

Work hard, work harder.

Happiness ebbed away, and stress alongside exhaustion strained into the job.

More and more effort, pushing himself harder, forcing himself to his limits.

Work your hardest.

Looking at the doodle on his desk, the doodle he had frantically covered, marked with a note for Wally to hide it, he realized how much time he wasted there. Cowering in some strange version of friendship and fear.

Mostly discomfort.

The friend that overstayed his invitation.

The invitation being into Henry’s life.

He tried to force him from his family, pushing the idea of a ‘studio family’, neglecting his own family, his wife and his daughter.

Sure, Diane and he did not last - but he had Linda.

His daughter, who he ignored and pushed away while he worked for Joey. He should have spent more time with her instead of leaving her with Diane or with one of her grandmothers, he should have bonded with her more.

He realized that when he left.

His daughter was so happy, such euphoria coursing through her when he told her that he quit, and she had taken him by the hand to spin around their living room with him, chanting, “daddy, daddy, you’re finally home!”

Now, for some inexplicable, insane, god damned reason, he was back. He was back in the place he lied to himself about. The studio was never anything good, it was a prison, a prison sealed with stockholm syndrome, a jail cell with the most cunning locks.

And here, back in this Hell… something was so very wrong.

Starting up the machine was easy.

The ritual was strangely familiar, as though he had performed it before, but maybe in a vague dreamlike state.

Was it deja vu?

No, he had definitely done this before….

______

Red eyes.

Angry, hurt, red eyes.

Henry stared at Joey. Something was off about him.

_____

The change in the man was obvious now. There was no doubt about it, he was changed. Skin dark like black tea, eyes red like rubies, magenta glasses, a tall stature on his shoulders yet bound to the wheelchair, black jacket, white pants, all familiar and yet so strange.

“Joey?” he murmured. The man ignored him pointedly, eyes narrowing. Red eyes, red, eyes, alexandrite red eyes. Whose were those? Whose lanky body? “... Johan?”

The man before him froze.

Then he smiled nervously, a smile Henry knew very well, but why?

“Let’s talk.”

____

“You promised one more run,” Henry growled, jabbing a finger into Joey’s chest. He rose a hand in a worried protest, a hand that Henry plucked out of the air. Their eyes met, Joey’s puce fearful and confused, he did not recall making such a promise. Henry’s second hand grasped his wrist, and he twisted. Joey howled, back snapping straight with the pain he could not escape from. Seconds, agonizing seconds, passed, and with a sud- SNAP. Joey felt like he could not breathe.

Henry’s hands were on his other wrist, bringing it down onto the counter with a crack. Johan wordlessly howled, doubling over on his broken wrists.

“That should teach you not to lie,” Henry growled. Joey, on his knees, gasped in air as tears spilled over his cheeks painfully. “I expect you to finish on the next run, or if I were you, I would fear for my hands.”

Joey nodded soundlessly and slowly, shaking and shivering.

Henry walked to the door, slipping through it without a word. Johan, stuck in his kneeling position, lowered his forehead to the floor, allowing his tears to drip through his lashes.

Shakily, a smile spread on his lips. Soon it will all be over. Soon it will all end. He would be forgiven! What a benevolent master Henry was! How kind!

Forgiveness!

What a remarkable, impossible, wonderful thought!

___

Dear reader, the next moments are no fault of mine. They are the result of another, whom despite pleading, constantly put aside their wellbeing. And so, it is with a bitterness I divulge the plaintiff cry of self inflicted impairment. This is their fault in two major ways.

I am merely relaying it.

He regretted deleting the Numerica.

He had to have something.

Everything hurt, his wrists ached, more than with the pain of the chains that normally enveloped them, tight and cruel.

He wanted something to relax his mind.

He wanted it.

He NEEDED it.

He groaned.

His closed eyes snapped open, a grin lopsidedly spreading on his lips.

He knew where he could get something of the sort.

He rummaged in another’s dimension, pulling his hand back.

In it, yellow pills.

Half of one was one dose, right?

Shrugging, he tipped the whole thing into his mouth.

He smiled and let the drug take over.

Colors, brighter than he had ever seen in his life, due to his impairment, splashed over his vision. Pain vanished. Ink dripped from his lips.

The colors heightened.

Brighter.

Whiter.

Maybe death would be good.

He did not regret stealing the pills, he never would see him again, anyways.

Johan’s final gift to him, his death with the other’s instrument.

He groaned as the pain from overdose kicked in.

His stomach throbbed and his head ached.

Pain hit every nerve.

He wanted to curse him. To curse them.

But he could not, he was powerless, and he felt tears prick his eyes, only the bright green of the numbers on his vision.

They dripped down the sides of his face, slipping into his hair, shame burning into him again. He cried out in agony, needless needles jabbing into every muscle, tearing him open from the inside out like claws, ripping into every single bone and tendon, a gluttonous devour of any clean feeling he held.

He wanted to die as the pain coursed through him, but he knew he would not be able to.

He choked on his tears, unable to move as the pills wrecked his body, forcing him to scream out, his voice raw and aching, trapped more than before.

He gasped and sobbed, hating himself.

Hating his weakness.

Hating everything about himself.

Pathetic.

He tried to curl up to let the pain ebb away, but the pills kept him still.

He hated himself.

He closed his eyes, and sobbed.

Why did they do this to him?!

Why were they giving him more pain than he was in already!?

Did they hate him?

They must, right?

There was no other explanation.

Confusion sank into him. He thought they loved him. Did… did they never love him?

He felt his shoulders slump.

No one could love him.

Obviously.

He was just a glitch bitch, a worthless shit, empty code, useless machinery. Pathetic, broken, a toy. Nothing. A zero.

They were right to hate him.

He was nothing good, nothing kind, a liar, a drug addict, a murderer, and now, a thief.

Pathetic.

Such a blight.

A disgrace.

He moaned, hand clenching on the pill bottle.

He wanted the pain to end. He wanted it to all go away.

He wanted everything to go away.

He wanted to die.

And this was a reminder he could not.

He hated himself.

____

Henry’s lips kept taking his attention. He had to focus, he needed to barter this right.

“I can do it in a thousand runs,” Johan assertively insisted. Henry shook his head. Joey scowled. “How about you try to repair our world using only ones and zeroes, huh?”

“I’m not the one who committed genocide,” Henry growled, his hand fisting on the table. Johan swallowed roughly. “Fifty at most.”

“Fifty!” Johan exclaimed, disgusted. “Fifty runs will never be enough for me to code even half of south america!”

“Then a hundred will suit you just fine!”

“Seven hundred fifty!” Johan lowered.

“Seventy five!” Henry challenged, eyes narrow.

“Eight hundred!” Joey insisted.

“A hundred,” Henry returned, not planning on conceding.

“Seven hundred is my lowest,” Joey grumbled, eyes looking over Henry, slitted and frustrated. “You can’t rush art.”

“This isn't god damned art!” Henry roared, leaping to his feet. “This is my goddamn life!”

“It’s my goddamn life, too!” Joey seethed. “Y-You don’t understand what you’ll be taking from me! People I love, people I car-”

“What fucking people!?” Henry demanded in an explosion, eyes wild, hands slamming onto the counter, making Johan jump back in fright and shock. “Other yous!? Is that it!? Fuck that, when this is over I’m going to make sure you never see them again! They’re distractions! All of you, every fuckin’ version is a liar! That’s probably why you get along so nice and dandy, oh, he’s a murderer, that’s fine, we all killed someone last week! Is that it!? And how many of you share the same fucking deviance?! How many of you are sods, huh?!”

“Henry!” Joey sputtered, flushing and grabbing at his heart pin. “Y-you’re bisexual, how can you say such a thing? How can you be so, so crude?”

Henry scowled, and then stopped, sighing and slowly lowering himself back onto his chair. Joey watched him with hurt in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Henry said, sincere. “I didn’t mean to say that, I got mad and I wanted to bother you. What I said was wrong.”

“It’s okay,” Johan murmured, sitting down in his wheelchair, his hands wrapping around his cup of tea. Henry’s cold hands pressed over his, and their eyes met. Joey’s lips quirked up in a small smile, Henry’s following in his smoother fashion. “Six hundred?”

“Two hundred.”

“Five hundred is the lowest I can do,” Johan shook his head.

Henry sighed, and stuck out his hand.

“Five hundred it is, then,” he said, sealing the deal with a shake.

Johan made his way to the door, opening it, paining a blue tack on the wall.

“This is run one.”

_____

Johan messed up. Repeatedly.

The artist was trying so hard, and Henry continuously got madder and angrier with him.

He wanted to please him so badly.

To be good!

He could be good!

He could!

Please, believe him, he could b-be good….

He offered Henry runs every time he failed.

With bright hopeful eyes.

Tears in them.

He was lowered, down, down, down, to 414.

____

He could not move properly. Something familiar, horrifically, hideously familiar, pressurized his chest. He was… on his knees? Something restraining him from falling. His blue black hair was splayed everywhere, messily spiking over his eyes. He swayed his head side to side, trying to get a bearing of his surroundings. A wry, tight grin crossed his lips, like someone tearing through paper unevenly with a knife.

Right.

He gave a hollow laugh, whistling to himself and swaying.

He could wait.

He was patient.

He would wait for the good doctor.

Eventually, the door clicked unlocked and swung open.

Footsteps waxed near him, and he continued to whistle and sway, head rolling on his shoulders and chest like a twisted pendulum.

The footsteps paused, and he tensed, a grin mangling his already eerie features.

Silence.

“Boo!” he sharply snapped his head up, jolting at the doctor before him, wild eyed and beaming maniacally. He dropped his notepad on the floor, the restrained man sticking out a leg to cover it and pull it back. The doctor, with his hand on his chest, glared at him as he cackled and hooted with laughter. “Aw! C’mon doc! You’re as white as a ghost!”

“Enough, Ramirez,” the doctor ground out, trying to get back his notebook. Joey grinned at him, kicking up the pad, bouncing it off his shoulder and catching it in his mouth. Quickly standing to full height, he towered over him, grinning smugly. “Joey Drew.”

“Fine, have it your way, Dr. Stein,” Joey grumbled tossing the book. His terrifyingly happy demeanor shifted to one of melancholy, and he sat back on the floor, straight jacket making him feel horribly itchy. “What’re you here for? To gloat?”

“No.” Henry flatly replied. “The lobotomy procedure was cancelled.”

“Really?” Johan’s head slowly rose, eyes wide with wonder. “And… and that means no split brain treatment either?”

“Neither.”

“Oh, thank you,” he breathed, sagging against the wall. “Oh, Doctor, thank you.”

“Are you going to take your medication without fighting this time?” Henry questioned blandly, measuring out a thick, black liquid, into a thin, cylindrical tube. Joey stared at it in disgust, hesitating before shaking his head in the negative. Henry grimace. “Take the goddamn medicine, Joey.”

“I don’t want that,” he grit out painfully, eyeing it with disgust and some fear. Henry approached him swiftly, holding him down on his shoulder. He glanced at him from the corner of his eye, flushing from embarrassment. “I’ll do it for a kiss.”

“Just take the it,” Henry growled, pushing the vial against his lips. Johan pursed them. “Come on already! Take it!”

He shook his head.

Henry’s nails dug into his shoulder, the glass painful through his lips. Joey reluctantly, feeling contempt toward himself, parted his lips.

“There we go,” Henry hummed, running a hand up and down his shoulder. Joey shuddered, his eyes squeezed shut. The taste of the ink… ink? What ink? INK.

With a skreech, he jolted back to reality, screaming, aching, trembling, thrashing.

He made sure he had command of his limbs, sharply lifting his hands and waving them in his face. He curled up, and cried.

Was that real?

Was his entire world a drug induced nightmare? Were the people he knew here just… just other people in an asylum? Was it all fake? It was, wasn’t it? There was no explanation. He was alone.

No.

He refused to believe that he was nothing more than a dream, he was real.

Think of the others.

More proof he was fake.

No.

He was real.

Nothing could stop him.

He was nothing, and nothing would stop him.

No.

He had to believe.

Belief never got him anywhere.

No.

He had to hope.

He had to hope, as belief abandoned him.

Hope was all he had, and he would use it.

He set his fingers to the keys.

Hours passed in his work. He slipped away to visit the others, having completed the necessary amount for the run, proud of himself.

In a few runs, he would have to meet with Henry.

He was not scared, he finally reconciled with his closest, and he was ready to face one of them again, he was ready.

He saved, and waited for Henry to come.

He fidgeted, an unfamiliar dull aching permeating his body.

What was wrong with him?

He coughed, feeling the throb from the simple action he was all too used to.

What was happening?

He tried to focus on the clock. It made him smile. Time worked again. It was a big accomplishment on his end, even if he saw it as a small feat. It was difficult, but he had done it.

What was wrong, why did he feel so… off?

. .. …

Pain spiked into all his being, every limb screaming, each cell shrieking.

He screamed, darkness flaring through his sight, and he felt the wheelchair dissipate from under him.

All he could feel was pain.

Agony seeped into every pore, his lungs burning, his eyes welling, his chest heaving as torment ripped though his body.

He could not move, all he could do was feel nightmares claw at his eyes, false memories of needles jabbing into him, tight restriction holding him in place as fire swept through him, razing every nerve.

“Johan! Are you alright!?” Henry’s voice cut through like a knife. Johan felt a strong arm on his back pulling him to sit. He felt himself get carried to the couch when it became clear he would collapse again. “Oh, Joey, you weigh less than ever before… Joey, pal, wake up, I’m going to get you something to drink, stay put.”

Joey groaned as he forced his bleary eyes open. To his relief, most of the apartment was still in place, and it seemed no progress was lost. Just a bit longer, and he would finish.

He sighed contentedly, leaning back against the couch, gripping it with one hand. Solid. The sensation made him want to laugh and cry out of elation and anticipation.

“Alright, Joey, I’m ba- holy shit!” Joey’s eyes rose to view the wide eyed stare of the other animator. His gaze was drawn to the top of his own head, following Henry’s look. He looked down at the hand on his lap shamefacedly as he caught the merest glimpse of silver. Silver! The other hand hastily shoved it off his forehead and back, not wanting to see any of it. He felt so young, but he felt so tired and ancient, and his body showed it. Henry rushed over to him, gentle, broad, calloused hands slipping through the locks in wonder and with great curiosity. “Your hair… it’s not black anymore. Or even blue.”

“Sorry it’s ugly,” Johan muttered, reaching to his knees and pulling them to his chest, Henry making an odd noise in his throat. “The cause of it is likely the fact that as our world becomes more filled, and as time measuring objects like clocks and calendars appear, I started to show the age I would be. I don’t suppose I aged very well, did I?”

“Joey, listen to me,” Henry’s voice was strange. Joey slowly looked up at him. “This isn't the first time I saw you with white. This is the first time it stuck. And it’s okay.”

“No it’s! It’s!” Joey made a frustrated sound, gritting his teeth. “I don’t! Want! To die! I don’t want to grow up! I’m still twenty two, no matter what my body looks like! I! I! I!”

“Calm down!” Henry soothed him, taking his hands off his face, where he was not even aware he was clawing at in his panic. "No, hey, don't worry about it! I think it... it looks nice! It suits you. And the tips… the tips are still black and blue.”

“Really?” Joey asked quietly, not wanting to grow a false hope. Henry nodded. “I’m certain I look like a buffoon.”

“Not at all,” Henry chuckled. “It’s kind of like a paint brush.”

He ran his hand through it again, Joey leaning into the gentle caress.

Henry’s hand continued to make its way through his hair repeatedly, until Johan felt his eyes slowly drifting shut. Henry’s hand slipped to his jaw, turning his head gently, until they were face to face. They looked at each other in their daze for a long moment, then eyes widened, and they both snapped away, muttering excuses to no one, Henry’s flush more apparent than Joey’s due to their skin tones.

“Here.” Henry muttered, thursting the cup of water he got at the other old gentleman, the liquid circling the glass as centripetal force tugged on it, a small amount leaping over the side, the drops landing on Johan’s hand. Henry’s breath seemed to freeze, and he shoved the cup into Joey’s hands. “Now, drink it, and don’t stop once you start. Doctor’s orders.”

“You... alright there, Hen?” Joey asked, lowering the empty glass, wiping his lips with a small napkin that moth brought him. “Thank you, Gracehopper. Henry, you look… hungry? Is there something I can get you to eat?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” Henry shook himself out of it. “Uh, should we see how else you aged?”

“Sure,” Joey sighed in defeat. “It’s not like I’ve ever had go-”

A rumbling tore them from their conversation. Joey groaned.

“It’s destabilizing again. You should go.”

“Fine.”

Joey glitched himself into his wheelchair as Henry made his way to the door. Joey stirred before his computer before looking over at the man.

“I’m almost done,” he called out behind him. Henry paused, and left.

______

And then he was done.

He wept.

He cried his heart out.

He sobbed and shook.

Since, when all is finished, the shock hits.

Henry stood before him as he cried.

He hugged him, awkward from the wheelchair.

“Ten more runs,” Henry reminded, and Johan nodded and wiped his tears. Time to make them last. Hold each precious moment, for he will never have it again.

____

Johan waited quietly for Henry to appear.

When he did, they strolled onto the streets of Manhattan, weaving through the people.

People, something that had been missing for thirty long, long years.

Still, thirty years of life stolen.

Henry and Joey knew it was time to set things right.

They came back to the studio, the ink machine powered on, the computer on, and the world turning to black and green.

Joey typed in the formula with tears in his eyes.

Tears of hope.

The reset button appeared, and he and Henry silently approached it.

“YOU CAN’T ESCAPE ME, JOHAN!” a voice that never was roared, calling the name like a mockery. “LISTEN TO ME, I AM GREATER THAN YOU WILL EVER DREAM TO BE!”

Pipes swirled up onto his ankles and ink welled against his limbs, restricting and grasping him, pulling him back to hell. He cried out, and Henry turned back to ask what the matter was, and his eyes widened as he saw Johan, being pulled back even as he dissipated, an arm wrapped tight around his throat.

Henry let out a battle roar, running back, punching the attacker in the face.

The man, for man it was, swore and stumbled back as Johan wheezed and typed a code as fast as he could to get him and Henry back to the button, and paused everything. Henry looked back at the man behind them frozen in time.

He stared at him.

“Joey?” he said, pointing at the default with confusion, eyebrows quirking at Johan.

“No.” Johan grit out. Henry scowled, pieces falling into place. He forced Johan to face him, the dark man refusing to meet his eyes. “What is your problem?”

“You have to deal with him,” Henry insisted. Joey bit his lip and looked to his shoes. “That man, that thing, that, that monster, he’s your problem to deal with. If you don’t get rid of him, he will always be a part of you. You will never be comfortable with who you are as long as you don’t face him. So go! Fight back!”

“Forget it,” Johan muttered, wheeling himself to the reset button. Henry let out a huff of frustration, going over to join him. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Henry curtly answered. “And you?”

“Yes,” he lied. He put his hand to the grey button, watching it fade into a deep indigo. He looked to Henry with a tilt of his head. “Your hand, if you please.”

Henry, saying nothing, placed his hand on the button as well, gold flowing from where his fingers met the code. It entwined with the blue, merging and dancing as one, sapping and strengthening each other, growing and changing and making something completely unheard of. There was a hum, and the button glowed green.

Active.

“Are you ready?” Henry inquired, his fingers twitching on the button, starting it.

“I am,” he fabricated. Inhaling sharply, he said, “Let’s do this.”

“Just so you know,” Henry’s hand tightened into a fist. “I don’t want to see you again. After whatever this is. I never want to see you ever again.”

Johan felt his heart break.

Again.

Something was wrong.

“Okay,” he whispered, ignoring the pang racing through his body.

“Well?” Henry prompted right hand pushing Joey’s left onto the button. “Click it now. On the count of three.”

The world was going to end, and Johan found it shoved in his face.

“Three!”

“Henry! Please, please, wait wait wait!”

“I thought you wanted us to end it all?”

“I don’t know!” he wailed.

“Two!”

“Please no! God, please wait, please, no, wait!”

“One!”

“Henry!”

He pushed their hands onto the button, slamming it and making the bright green glow gleam and glitter and glint and spread, time slowing, Johan able to see the numbers slowly making their way to the activated event.

He stared at the green numbers, eyes widening, and then

NOT THE FIRST TIME.

He gasped.

NOT THE SECOND TIME.

N-no… no, no, that does not make any sense, unless he had…

THIRD TIME.

He deleted his own memories.

Tears dripped down his face, memories flooding him, leaving him trembling, shaking, a tsunami of horror and disgust.

“Are you okay?” Henry’s voice asked him.

“Are you okay?” he asked twice before then.

Johan could not breathe.

Memory wipe?

Again?

Should he do another?

A fourth?

He looked back at the default Joey.

Henry was right, he would never leave him be if he did not fight back against it.

They stared at each other.

With a sharp turn, Johan wiped his memor

Johan Ramirez woke up in an abandoned apartment in Brooklyn.

He went to work and quit it.

He built a studio called “Joey Drew Studios”.

He built a computer.

He built an ink machine.

He deleted himself.

He destroyed his world.

He rebuilt everything, so slowly.

He stared at the default Joey.

Memories flooded back.

Guilt, guilt, guilt.

How many times will he repeat this?

How many times will he meet the same people?

If he moves on… what will change?

He would have only met others twice, if met at all.

Could he move on?

He hesitated.

“Joey?” Henry asked for the first time.

A chill ran down his back.

Everything will change.

It is changing now.

He turned his wheelchair slowly to face the fraudulent version of himself, sitting high and proud as he rolled to him.

To it.

To nothing.

He was the mother fucking Johan “Joey” Drew Ramirez, and nothing could take it away.

“You. Are. Not. Real.” he forced from his mouth.

The copy grinned.

“You never were.” he breathed, closing his eyes. “I am me. I am Joey Drew. You are not. You are coding that broke off of the original, because I was afraid of who I was not.”

He rose his head and stuck his chin forward, hands… perfectly steady.

“I’m not good looking. I’m not confident. I’m not smart.”

He inhaled, long and slow.

“And that’s okay. I don’t need to be.”

“I have been told that I am kind. That I am funny. That I am okay. You are not.”

He opened his eyes. The man before him wavered and snapped.

“I love who I am. And you are not me. And I deserve everything I’ve made for myself.”

He turned back around, and wheeled back to Henry.

No more memory wipes. No more feeling wrong.

Meant to be like this.

He was proud of who he was.

He shined his pin on his palm, smiled, and reset with Henry along him.

“Hey, so,” he called to him in the vortex, everything being pulled to them. “Henry, can… do you think we can meet up after all this? I’ve got something to tell you.”

Henry looked at him.

“I know you said that you don’t want to see me again, but… it’s important.”

“Can’t you tell me now?” Henry asked, testily. “While this is all ending?”

“This has happened before,” Joey told him. “All of this.”

“Really now?” Henry asked, curiosity sparked. “Among everything else that’s happened from what you’ve done, this one might just take the cake.”

“Will you meet me?” Johan questioned, tilting his head. “Tuesday, at the old park?”

“I’ll meet you in nineteen thirty, eh?” he smiled at Joey. “Change some things up?”

“N-no,” Joey shifted. “As soon as possible. I’ll probably… go home.”

Henry gazed at him.

“Tuesday at the old park it is,” he quietly affirmed.

Joey smiled at him.

He smiled back.

“I love you, you know,” he said.

“Yeah, yeah,” Henry muttered. “Love you too.”

Joey blinked, then beamed as reality warped around them.

Things were going to be great.

The end.

.

.

.

No.

He still has so many problems.

So much delicious fear, insanity, pain.

He’s not done yet.

Not by a long shot.

He has a job to do, he has a world to fix, and when all is said and done, it will end.

And it is not the end.

It cannot be….

Three pairs of feet surrounded the code that once was the body of Joey Drew.

It will not be...

“Well?” A wavering, glitching voice prompted. “Do we know who’s next?”

Not for a long long time…

“I believe he is,” a pulsing, tired one replied, turning to the last of them. “What do you think?”

Not until the drawing is done and framed and hung….

The ink demon only grinned, all teeth and no happiness.

…. The End.

[aittiadf]

chapter 2

My eyes felt like screws after the seventh hour of manning the reception desk at New Ocean Hotel. My shift was almost over and every minute dragged itself over the slow blue sky. I went into the back bathroom, sat on the toilet and took a few hits from my vape pen. The high smoothed me over. I looked down at the checkered tiles of the bathroom floor and pulled out my phone. Samantha had texted me saying there was  someone she wanted me to meet. This guy from her church who drank with her had just seen the lights for the first time. She described him as a sheepless shepherd who wandered around praying to a higher power. Aren’t we all sheepless shepherds I thought but then I realized maybe people had more meaningful ways of understanding their life. 

She told me this guy was looking for a job and needed a place to stay. I didn’t really know how much I should care. Nothing really happened here and if some person wanted to be by the beach alone with an easy job then sure, he should come and stay for a while. If he had seen the lights at the very least it might give him some space to calm down. For me though it was boring. I’d worked here for over a year and only stayed because it gave me time to work on the free coding academy I had recently enrolled in. What I really wanted was to get out of this hotel and work for one of the startups in the bigger town to the south. 

The only time the hotel got busy was during the summer. But even then, when tourist season was in full force, none of the rooms would be filled. But there was always a two-four week span when the fires forced people out from the valleys or the mountains and the rates would spike higher than they were the rest of the year. We would be filled to the brim during that time, having to deny people and everything. It was cruel to raise rates during an environmental crisis. Supposedly there was an algorithm that decided the prices for all the hotels in a thirty mile radius so the rates were always the same and there wasn’t any real competition. So it was all blameless. The mechanized blasphemous rate spiking that occurred when people’s houses were burning to the ground could be attributed to the cloud or some other unknowable piece of technology whose existence could only be hinted at and never named. 

    I walked back to the front desk and sat at the computer trying to decipher an error in the coding assignment I was working on. It was useless. My brain was fried and I wanted to walk out the door and go home. I couldn’t, so I booted up youtube instead. Fifteen minutes later, I was on my fourth video of this guy who had a hydraulic press. The niche of the channel was that he exclusively pressed food. Lately it seemed he’d been going to a lot of fast food restaurants. I stood there transfixed as I watched the steel metal cylinder pulverize doritos locos tacos, double doubles, fish filets and atomic chicken wings. 

    My manager walked in from checking on some of the rooms in the hotel and I told her to come and take a look. She sat there dazed for a while as well, occasionally offering some commentary. 

“It's crazy to see food transform into such unrecognizable shapes” 

“This is making me hungry”

“That actually looks kind of good”

I liked her. She wasn’t sympathetic to the owners. They directed most of their nastiness onto her and she remained nice to the employees. Sometimes though the stress from the owners overflowed onto us. But there was this mutual understanding we seemed to have of the hotel’s emotional economy. Which is to say that we were aware the owners were some real cretinous fiends who cared about nothing but the rates and money and caused people to teeter at the edge. 

I think she knew I smoked in the restroom and she probably assumed I jacked off in there too, which wasn’t untrue. I indulged in what I was able to get away with. There was even this time me and this customer who I’d been chatting with locked eyes in the lobby when I came into work one morning. He and I went back into the bathroom and did all sorts of stuff. I think she knew about this too because we had security cameras but between us there was this tacit understanding that if you don’t have a big house with lots of dollars the coast in California is just a place where you go to dissolve into the sunset and burn off. 

    I told my manager I had a friend of a friend who needed a job and if she knew if we were hiring. She told me we weren’t but had seen that the steakhouse across the street was looking for servers. Both of us thought it was stupid that there was a steakhouse in this tiny little community. Apparently some silicon valley investor had got it in his mind that the real estate in this area would explode. The idea was that by developing some businesses and property in the area the energy of the coming boom would surge directly into his net worth. He had opened this all glass steakhouse, the type of building with exposed steel beams inside. So now, amid aging victorian homes and fields of wildflowers there was an all-glass restaurant that looked more like it made napalm than served ribeye. Maybe the meat was cloned. Either way, it had good reviews on Yelp.

    I told Samantha that if her friend was really looking for work that it was available here at this pretty stupid steakhouse.  We had this weird friendship that congealed around this time we did acid when we were seeing each other years ago. It was late and we were bored and awake so we decided to take a tab each and walk the couple miles down to the beachfront where we lived in central California. When we got there we took our shoes off and waded up into the ankles in the ocean. The wind was strong and the cold ocean water on our bodies began to feel like needles. There was this dingy beach motel by us with an iron gate that was rusted from the ocean breeze. It opened easily and we decided to take refuge in the stairway of the motel.  

All night we stayed awake feeling the euphoria from the acid and having the full force of California beach kitsch weigh on us. I remember taking solace in eating a bag of popcorn we bought and staring at this dead fly on the windowsill. When the sun rose we walked outside and I remember Samantha made fun of me when I took a picture of the sunrise. I told her not to be an asshole, nobody is better than the sun.

 On the sidewalk walking home we passed by subarus and lending libraries and stopped to look at the sky. There was a series of six orange lights high above us, moving fast and leaving a small streak of light behind them. We stood there walking with our heads fixed above. We watched them fly across the ocean and over the hills until they were far out of our sight. We didn’t even say anything to each other, we just kept walking by early morning joggers and freshly manicured lawns afterwards, staring at the sidewalk silently. 

That was so long ago now and certainly before I came out and she became a Christian. We just had an unspoken understanding that we needed to head in different directions. So I moved further up the coast here and she got some tech job in the Bay Area. I remember getting these weird emails at the time from this place called Excelsior Corp about test piloting this hardware VPN product. The emails just had one line of text: “Looking for test pilots hardware VPN now” and pictures of this big black box I assumed was the hardware you would have to install to access their VPN. I always sent the emails straight to the trash but somehow they always bypassed my spam and ended up straight in my inbox.

But after some time not talking to Samantha I reached out. I was smoking my wax pen on my porch one night when I saw a bunch of shooting stars shoot over me in rapid succession. I thought of Samantha. I sent her a text asking how she was doing. She told me she’d been well but had been having these weird things happen to her. She mentioned all these emails she’d been getting and that she’d started seeing drones in the sky and lights every few months. I hadn’t seen the lights but I’d gotten the same emails. She was telling me about it and she sounded scared but also she said she was doing well. 

“I’ve got a stable job and you know I go to church and stuff, and there are some really wonderful moments, just now I saw all these incredible shooting stars.” 

She sounded anxious and I was worried for her. I asked her if she liked smoking dabs. She’d never tried one. 

“It’s really chilled me out since that time we took acid.”

“I like my church and alcohol.”

 I was happy though because despite her nervousness she seemed happy. I let her know I’d seen the same shooting stars and she was ecstatic. Since then we’ve texted and called about strange stuff we see, about weird things happening in our phones, about plans for the future, about her theories on the Greeks, about my times engaging in public sex, about the hotel, about god, and about other things. We were friends and I enjoyed hearing about her world, from the far reaches of the front desk of the New Ocean Hotel. 

On the computer screen a wad of Chick-fil-A waffle fries were being squashed into potatoey dough. Me and my manager sat there watching until the steel cylinder had fully flattened the fries and the video faded to black. 

My manager gestured at the steakhouse, “What do you think it's like working there? Surrounded by glass for everyone to see? I could never do that. When I worked in a restaurant the kitchen’s used to be closed off from the eyes of the customers. Now they leave it wide open, I feel like I’d go insane.”

I thought of the owners of the hotel lording over me and reprimanding me every time I looked at youtube. “I’d probably go insane too,” I said. 

“I definitely would.” 

    When my shift was over I walked home and  stopped at the convenience store to buy a pack of gummy sharks.  I chewed on them while thinking about Samantha. I imagined her in church, with some ridiculous outfit on, sitting with her friend. I imagined them both listening intently to the words of the sermon, and getting up from the pews afterwards to fraternize with the other church members. I thought of how all that seemed impossible to me, making conversation to other people in a church. Maybe if I tried hard enough I could imagine it. I tried and my mind thought of being submerged in water. I thought of being in the womb. I thought of what it must be like to feel full. I thought of being in a congregation. What singing with others must feel like. I started to imagine myself there, sitting among the pews unable to join in with everyone’s song. I imagined what it would be like later on during the service, when the pastor gave his sermon. In my mind I listened to him while a stranger next to me reached for a bible on the shelf on the back of the pews and turned to the book of revelations. He placed the bible on my lap while I unbuttoned my pants and unfolded myself hard, smack dab in between the pages that talked about angels, blasphemy and a new Jerusalem. Then I imagined him stroking me while I listened to the sermon, my mind cascading through illuminated halos, until all that remained was a gold blur and me hooing softly like an owl, letting myself leak onto the thin paper pages and onto the carpet below. 

    It was funny to me that after that time taking acid Samantha started going to church and I got a hold on my sexuality. Too much of my life could be periodized around that trip and sometimes I felt at the brink, torn between the life I lived before and the life I was living now. But there was no actual break between the two, and they were both happening at the same time. I knew that in reality my life prior and my life after bled into each other, with experiences since then coloring the way I read the past and my life prior shaping the way I read the present. But a long black fissure stood there in my mind, dividing the two lives while they tried to congeal around the edges of the abyss. From that fissure too came not just me but Samantha, and maybe anyone else who had seen the lights. We sprouted out of it in different directions like vines, crawling out of black depths and over the grey plane of our existence, stretching into the bright orange line of the horizon. 

     My teeth smushed the blue-white body of the gummy shark in two. I chewed one piece and stared briefly at the shimmering half body of gelatin I held in between my two fingers. It would be possible for Samantha’s friend to find a job here. I even had an extra room in the converted apartment of the old Victorian house I rented. Then what? I suppose nothing, I would continue with my life, trying to learn to code and working at the hotel. Who knows what would happen when we met. There was this sensation I had though, that everyone who me and Samantha came in close contact with was somehow also sprouting out of the abyss, extending themselves over that grey plane and trying to reach the sun. 

[ibythetidepromotions]

An interview with: NOMVDIC

Could you introduce yourself to the readers?

Hey I'm James from Nomadic. Or NOMVDIC or NOM∀DIC or whatever. sometimes we spell it with a V because we’re weird. but metals weird so who cares.

What led to the inception of Nomvdic?

The original drummer and guitarist of this band had a project called "Nomadic" which had recorded a 2-song EP with me. They asked me to fill in for a gig for them as their vocalist bc the actual dude couldn't make it. Over time, we hung out more and wrote some theatrical death metal songs about horror movies. We were asked to play a gig as a "Nomadic comeback show" even though it wasn't the same band. So we played as Nomadic and that just kinda became the band name, haha. Not sure how the V thing started, I think it was a group chat change back in 2016 and then we just kinda started doing that with our new logos.

'Euphoria' has been on repeat ever since the record was released, this album is a masterpiece, 2.5 years in the making definitely proves that. What is the album about, what insights can you tell new listeners when diving into 'Euphoria'?

Wow thank you for the love. Hearing something you've created and put time to is a "masterpiece" is always a shock and always awesome. so thank you. Euphoria is at its core is about feelings, but at its hidden core is about me and my feelings haha. The argument of the album is essentially that anything felt in an extreme way, even negatively, is Euphoria BECAUSE you are feeling. But, we get to that conclusion by telling some pretty horrific stories and then "giving up" in the 9th song. If you can, try to listen to the whole thing - it's quite the roller coaster haha. That being said, I think it can also be a fun listen without having to jam the whole thing or having to pay attention to all the lyrics and whatnot.

'Euphoriɐ' has officially been out for over a week now, you guys released the Billboard chart numbers, being an independent band were you guys expected to have such great numbers?

Honestly dude I worked my ass off on shooting for the stars on this and doing as best as I possibly could, but I definitely did not expect to get 8 chart positions. That's badass. Technically only 7 positions because 103 / 100 isn't a position BUT I thought it was insane that we were only 3 off from top 100 current albums. I'm blown away. It's mad cool.

Since the whole world is on lock-down you guys had planned a CD release show/tour, word of mouth will still forever reign as a reliable carrier for news and excitement, what creative ideas have you come up with to combat not getting the word out about the release of the album?

I think staggering singles out every two weeks helped a lot with getting a lot of fans through Spotify, that was huge for us. I've been constantly trying to get press, and am working on ad ideas through Facebook and Google. I'm also going to start a "street team" type of Facebook group and come up with interesting merch drop ideas

As I was working on this interview I was listening to the album and the song "I've known you for so long but know nothing about you" stopped me dead in my tracks to actually listen and follow along with the lyrics, the lyrics feel extremely personal, what was the writing process like did you have to get into a certain headspace?

That's cool that you stopped and really looked into it dude, thank you. I'll just say this, man. Our last album was about freaking horror movies, haha. I had to get a lot of help with writing for this album, not because I can't write but because it was really hard to be truly vulnerable with my words for this album. I'm kinda happy things worked out that way. Like I know what the songs are REALLY about and what the lyrics really mean, but people can derive so much meaning for themselves out of the words. It's cool. I love this record and I love that song

When everyone receives the okay to resume to life as normal are you guys hoping to pick up where the last tour fell off?

Oh fuck the fuck yea dude. I want to be playing more than we ever played before. I want Euphoria all over the US and Canada and Europe. Hell, even fucking Australia. I wanna blow this up

Dream tour with NOMVDIC on the bill?

Oh, good question. Wow. Man, I'd LOVE to tour with bands like Oathbreaker, Deafheaven, Warforged, and Kardashev. I also think the direction of the last two The Devil Wears Prada albums suit our sound as well, so it would be so cool to tour with them. Also, Sleep Token, Code Orange, and Gojira are like my favorite bands, AND I heard Job for a Cowboy is coming back. Not to mention incredible bands like Rivers of Nihil and The Contortionist. Honestly, any combination of any of the above would be a dream come true.

Anything else you would like to tell the readers before we go?

Please! Jam Euphoria! We have a full album visual stream up on YouTube, and all of our music is on Spotify, Apple Music, Bandcamp, and all that good stuff! Buy some merch! Thank you for all the love everybody, it means the world.

NOMVDIC Social Media:

Facebook

Instagram

Twitter

YouTube

Merch

Bandcamp

Spotify

Apple Music

[christinamariehollis]

My Mind It’s strange when the thing that once hurt you most ceases to hurt anymore and you realize the only person who hurts you now is yourself. Maybe time does heal all wounds, but skin is so much easier to break when it’s been cut open before and addiction’s knife cuts paths like water through stone. My skin is weak. Recovery only works for those who wish to be healed. I thought I was strong enough to face this alone; I’m not, but I will. Writing is what keeps me sane, or at least as sane as I get.

Beauty is the Beast I knew not the perils of the beast, only that I had finally seen perfection; seen what I was evermore determined to become. It was wrong of me to blame him, for I solely created her. But not so wrong of me to say I was “inspired.” Perhaps initially through myself, but mostly through him. Regardless, this was my doing. I alone gave birth to a monster so real, so vivid, that I now risk my life to keep her alive. For I took her in, held her in my arms to hide her from the world. But the longer I kept her there, the more I longed for her silent perfection to be my own. And finally I swallowed her whole. So it began, and so it remains. She lives within me now, hidden, sheltered, like something abhorrent. My deepest secret. She used to rest, used to allow me a will at some point. But now it seems she never sleeps. But this is what I longed for. I traded my soul for a chance at perfection. And this is only the beginning…

Castle, Castle I’m starting to believe I was born with this. That it lie silent throughout my youth only to rear its head and plague me later. It slept with in me until its opportunity arrived, to grasp and feed on what made it thrive: my mind. And now it grows so large that it seeps through my pores and clings to all that I hold dear, spreading its seed to grow within a separate host. It is the arsenic, and I am the sugar. It lies unnoticed, for I strive to stand guard and protect my poison. It destroys all it comes in contact with. Simple, how such a thing can be overlooked, for it takes pleasure in the kill. It progresses at a painstakingly slow rate, and relishes in the time elapsed to annihilate its victim. Oh, it’s precise, fastidious in fact. All the while keeping in sync with the rhythm my pulse sets, as my heart swells beneath my skin.

Speak There are times where I lose my voice and all my thoughts fly at the sides of my head, like the thousands of tiny birds that hit my windows at night. I hear their wings flapping always, a constant whooshing that fills my ears and blocks out the sounds of the earth. They are the fog that clouds my head, the wind that propels me onward, my army. And with these forces my eyes have closed to reality and opened to a world where realism ceases to exist. Short, my days are, away from my home. For I never have to think, walk, hear, speak. I’m here solely for the sake of filling an empty chair. I live for simply that, being.

The Heart of a Lion Weak and paranoid, when I speak white noise pours out from my voice. Every time I move my lips, it tears their ears to bits. I rasp out in codes, call out in gasps, for my airway remains blocked, and I can hardly choke out fragments of scattered thoughts. Eyes move briskly, and spin me in circles, so I end where I have begun. I’m frozen in time; a deer in headlights. The heart of a lion, yet it beats like a hummingbird.

Prince, Prince Oh, the night will come, where these flames will grow as high as the trees that consume me. And time will stop to spark fire in my eyes. Shards of desire, I’ll find you some day. We’ll play this game over and over again, with no new meaning. He’ll redefine perfection, and hopefully I’ll be enough. It only takes two pairs of hands to set light tonight. She’ll smile for me, place brilliance in pain, and the earth will come to a halt, for one night, time will stop. I’m on my way to the top of the world, and I’m not afraid to burn. I’m not afraid to burn. I wanted more, more than this life.

Ants Time was shorter than I knew. It used to drip and ooze through me, glob like batter at the corners of my fingertips. So slow, blue eyes, I would cry “let me go.” Now I would do anything for my seconds to stand still. It’s never safe to rely on the borrowed. I thought of them coming to take what I had given up, to collect what I could not keep in. Picking up the time I could not hold, and dragging it away in pieces to their burrows. Crawling, those ants, to what I thought I had thoroughly cleaned. I fathom I’ve failed at that as well. Time, time, my time, is stored away somewhere in holes deep underground, miles away, buried so deep I will never find my, my time.

Jealousy My head is heavy, swimming with acid and flu vaccination, I’m dizzy and tripping, clawing at this hole at the bottom of my rib cage. Good luck trusting him to fill your gap, little girl, little girl, he’ll make you cry real soon. And good luck true love, take her captive, prod her with your concrete eyes, make her squirm like you did for me, oh, will you do it again? Will you? Give her the beast! Why don’t you show her how you “inspired” me? Oh, you got me thinking a little deeper, and before you knew it I had spawned a tragedy. Well, look at me now! Look at the monster you gave life to! Look at me! Am I good enough now? I see the monster everywhere, in the cracks of concrete, the emerald green of my mother’s eyes. Smiling always, smirking at my inability to succeed, to finish what I’ve started. I never try, never try hard enough, and yet I want this, rods and bones, skin and flesh, but it never will be.

Kryptonite Your words linger, remnants from last night, they jump from synapse to synapse sending pulses of pure energy through my veins. I still feel the static from your electric touch, feel the sensation of your finger tips as they grazed my hips, guiding me back. Your palm on the small of my back, my soul thirsting for more, more contact from your nimble hands. And now you’re feeding the beast. Again, I find myself enthralled with eyes, captivated by concrete. And once more I’m searching for blue, overlooking the lies I’ve been fed countless times. Seconds stand still with every look, you’re drowning me again, again with those concrete eyes that see through mine like they’re not even there, like the atmosphere I’m still floating on. Looking past the air in my sockets to my insides, to things I hide from everyone, everyone but you. I’ve force myself again into this compromising position; I’m out of control. She asked me, “Did you just do what what I think you did?” Not tonight, kryptonite.

Old Habits Die Hard What found me first, was it you? The beast? Oh, insanity, what I would give to melt away, to liquefy from within myself, to ooze out my pores, and drip on the ground. For my flesh to hang like skin should; loose and dry off my bones. Dry like my mouth, which stays hinged together, fused by my lips, welded by my jaw. Dry like my eyes, that open for my mouth, but only literally. “We are always ripe and ready to be taken.” My fingers are restless, and beat at all they can grasp. They pound, and scratch, and bleed. Rust and salt, the taste is familiar. I want to finish what I’ve started. I want my silver spoon to hit my mouth where it should. I want what I’ve taken in to move back out. It burns inside me, acid, oh, let me melt.

The Sun It seems I won’t hold my breath, and I can’t hold my tongue. And my life seems to drift into dream like reality, where clocks spin backwards and time pools in the corners of my eyes. Seconds trickle back out my throat and down the corners of my mouth, coming to a halt inches above the ground. The rooms revolves at its center, the cracks in the floor become ceiling tiles, and I find my eyes rolling back, flashing white, as my body begs for sleep. It’s a slow rush, the best feeling in the world.

Downtown Living The beast rose, in human form, and stood before me, on ridged legs she balanced. She bowed her crown of silver gems, lowering sunken eyes to meet with mine and asked me: “Is this what you want?” A question for which I gave no reply. She asked me to look at her, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I couldn’t muster the strength to rip my eyes from her skeletal hands. Before her I am nothing, and she is everything I long to be. Her breath is arsenic, oh, how I long to drink this poison, to melt her within myself, to become what I envy. She roams my dreams at night, shooting smirks in my direction, her twisted smile permanently reflected in my eyes, she laughs at what I will never be, at what I will never be.

Fever I watched my insides seep through my pores, I recall looking in the mirror, stunned by the act occurring. They oozed out my mouth, dripped from my eyes like water would run from a kitchen faucet. My body liquified from within itself, it’s remnants dancing down my face, meeting mind way, then running full speed from my cheeks to my neck. I gazed in horror as they pooled down my body, dripping carelessly from my shaking hands, sliding down my finger tips. I couldn’t hold them in; I was melting. Their scent hung to my clothes, draped me in a pool of sweat that I could not scrub clean. And all the while she laughed at my misery, she took pleasure in my suffering, chanting: “Is this what you want? Is this what you want?” Oh, but it is.

Red Hands I’ve dried up my luck, dried up my life trying to fill the gaps solely I have created. Always working to please, always working towards euphoric living. Yet even euphoria fails to keep me whole, it leaves me empty and alone, wanting more and more with each lurch from my silver spoon. Revenge is deadly in my hands, revenge on my own skin, my own body. For the only person who hurts me is myself, the only person I seek revenge on is myself. And my flaws scream like open mouths, like red hands prodding at my eyes, eyes now burning from scars of past mistakes. Now the beast bellows from within me, turning my sweet lullabies and foolish childhood dreams into wind, carrying them away, forever gone, forever more. I cling for my wonderland, scream for the innocence you stole away from me with your red hands, hands I didn’t ask to lace my skin, but they did, and I let them. How, fully grown could you do this to me? Adult’s red hands on a child’s body. I am unclean, I am unclean, and now he will never feel again the love he once so foolishly spent on me.

The Bear Tell me how I became so tangled in words I vowed I would never speak? A muzzle fused with hate, hate in it’s purest form. A disgust so deep that only those who know the beast can see. I feel her hands tapping at the ends of my fingertips, always restless longing to escape, longing to touch him through my hands, all of my pleasure is hers alone. What is left for me? He sleeps short miles away, swears he wants to see, but he’s looking for her, not looking for me. She shines as bright as city lights, lights I will never see. But still I sense her in the corners of my eyes, glowing neon red, ready to drip out. She longs to be free, free of me, to pull her face over mine. I wish she would with silent cheekbones, oh, I pray she could with nimble hands. Rip through me. I was full but still she’s hungry, hungry to feed off moments like these, moments where I am uncertain, she sends whispers of doubt through my ears. They can’t see, a monster so silent to the world, but so loud to me.

Replies The beast has found love, found a friend in which to share a twisted smirk, a crooked smile, soft whispers of mockery exchanged before my eyes. A person so close yet so far from the beast, my sister in blood and soul, asks me for things I cannot give, asks me to speak, to speak of the beast. She asks me to leave my heart unguarded, to rest and fester on a table before her, to rot in the strokes of countless avid eyes, eyes that request things I cannot provide. “Health”, they ask, “sanity”, “sobriety”, things I do not posses, but have learned to fake so eloquently. But sister doesn’t know, how good it feels, a euphoric rush so strong, so sweet it sweeps warm through my blood, it seeps through every pore. This is addiction in all reality, now burning in every vain, slowing and speeding my hearts rate simultaneously. Sister wants to dance in dreams of shadows, oh, my manikin, I will watch your ballet from the audience, but it is I who puts on a show.

Lion’s Den I remember her clearly, the woman who lived down town. Frail and rigid, she slept in the lion’s den. Waiting, waiting among those beasts for her share of the pray. She wore a crown of silver gems, with emerald eyes and ivory skin. It was amazing to watch, such a fair woman living with those monsters, hunting, hunting with demons at night. It was Death that lived downtown, but not Death as Death is intended; no, Death was beautiful, Death was enticing. Death would roam within my city, visiting house to house in search of a partner to play in her games. Death came once to my door and asked me to dance; I grabbed her icy hand and a duet began. We stood on point, we ran, and spun; I kicked my legs, I flailed and leapt, I twirled my body into oblivion, and soon I could not stop. For through Death’s grip a spell was cast to which I shall forever be a slave. Death still graces my body, she wraps herself around my waist and spreads her smoke within me. I feel her in my throat, I feel her in my stomach, eating, eating my organs away. I feel her in my arms, I feel her in my hands, reaching, reaching for a silver spoon, just one more time, one more time. With every lurch I sense her in me, a subtle reminder that I have not left her sweet embrace. But I took Death’s hand when she asked me to dance, and now I cannot escape.

Aryan I watched you walk today, sloppy and uncoordinated, I often question your upbringing. It repulses me to know that you are impure, that half the “blood” that runs through you is truly bile. And yet I walk hand in hand with you so often, my sister, am I impure as well? Repulsion boils in my veins; I love you, but your blood, oh, your blood disgusts me. You don’t understand it, but this is who I was born to be. Straight from my mother’s womb, I was created with these intentions in mind. Fully self created, I was not forced fed my beliefs, but instead a willing victim to prejudice’s sweet taste; I lapped it greedily from my mind’s silver spoons. And so I am a hypocrite, I am a hypocrite for consorting with you. I smell your filthy mutt “blood” seeping through the pores in your hands as you reach for mine. How I long to flick your soiled fingers away, but I can’t, I can’t; you are my sister.

Sweet, Sweet You filled me to the brim; my body was flooded with your sweet, sweet syrup. It was such a magnificent thing, to be full for once in my life. But sickness never truly left my side, no, it seemed to mix and swell with your syrup to make something repulsive. Something sickeningly sweet. And you never said a word, but I knew. I knew you could taste it when we kissed. That glutenous bile would spill from my mouth every time we came in contact, and it drove you away. Now I’m hollow; and when I move I rattle like a shell within myself. My heart is torn and ripped away and my mind, my mind is all I have left. Yet my mind is more manic than ever. It’s in constant pursuit of something, something to fill that gap. To make me whole again.

This is Getting Old It’s hard to think with one thousand thoughts swimming in circles like coy fish round and round in my head. It’s hard to see with faceless memories clouding my eyes. It’s hard to hear when your words replay, ringing over and over again in my mind. It’s hard to feel when every touch reminds me of your hands, of your fingertips fused to mine, of your palms brushing my skin. It’s hard not to drink when I know that you’re sober. It’s hard not to smoke when I know that you’re clean. It’s hard to walk when I know you’re not guiding me. It’s hard to sit still when I know that you moved me. It’s hard to dream when my body occupies so little room in my bed. It’s hard to sleep when my mattress is swallowing me whole. It’s hard to leave when I know that you’ve left. It’s hard to stay when I know you were here. And it’s hard, it’s really, really hard to love when you’re still in my heart. You’re still in my heart.

Hypocrite Images of culture distort my thoughts. Let my ideas manifest, bringing a new light, or darkness perhaps, to an all too cloudy mind. Soot drips from disease, running dirty water through my veins. I am unclean, I am unclean. I brought this upon myself, but you, you were born into a life of filth. What you see is reflections, illusions I have created. “Great liars are also great magicians.” You hang from puppet strings I have fashioned with these fingers, strings I created with these hands. Move, move with every flick of my wrist. Dance, dance! Your ignorance is only amplified if you think you can control me. I’ll be back in your house, sleeping where you sleep. Will you lie awake at night? Or dream silently next to me? Can you rest with a monster in your room? You have no right, but judge me, judge me, your criticism only feeds my mind.

[sweet-christabel]

A Trusted Friend In Science

FF.net: (x) AO3: (x)

Chapter Twenty-Two - Unknown year. New Management.

Doug had lost count of how many hours he’d spent sitting in front of the bank of computer screens he’d set up, waiting for Chell to give him an indication that she was alive. Every hour that passed brought more anxiety as he sat and stared, paced, tried to eat, tried (unsuccessfully) to doze, scribbled reams of nonsense over the walls in the office he’d settled in. Writing what the voices said sometimes exorcised them from his mind, but often they were simply replaced with new ones.

Tired of standing, he sat idly in the desk chair, listening to the facility groaning in the distance. Wheatley was changing things, moving things around, and the facility didn’t like it. That was something else to add to Doug’s edginess. He didn’t feel safe anymore, even in the offices where the central core had no control. Wheatley was haphazard and clumsy, likely to smash an entire wing to smithereens just by accident. Nowhere was safe anymore.

Doug eyed the dimly-lit production line outside the office window, once where the latest model of shower curtain had been made. A fine sprinkling of dust filtered down from above, dislodged by whatever Wheatley was rearranging.

“I don’t like this,” the cube moaned.

“Neither do I,” Doug told it grimly. “But we’re staying until we have answers.”

“It’s been hours…”

He didn’t reply. He was well aware that considerable time had passed. The thought of Chell lying broken at the bottom of the elevator shaft was not one he wanted to face. The uncertainty of his own reaction scared him, and he genuinely didn’t know whether he would be able to carry on. For three years she had been his only source of hope. What was he supposed to do without her? Resign himself to being a rat in the facility until he died?

He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, trying to shut out the thoughts. Sighing heavily, he dropped his hands to his lap, glancing at the nearest screen for what felt like the thousandth time. With a jolt of adrenaline, he did a double take, studying it closer. Something was flashing green.

Doug leaned forward, almost propelling himself off his chair in his haste, fingers flying over the keyboard.

“Security vault door,” he read aloud, face breaking out into a grin. “Test shaft nine. She’s in test shaft nine! She’s alive!” Some of his tension and anxiety lifted instantly, and he kicked out at the desk, pushing his chair into a spin.

"Where is test shaft nine?" the cube wanted to know.

Slowing to a dizzy halt, Doug waited for the room to stop moving before he returned to the computer. "I'll pull up a map."

Every part of the Enrichment Centre was documented, but sometimes expansion happened so fast that the person whose job it was to produce the maps had often fallen behind or left things out. Chell was right at the bottom of the salt mine, however. There would be plenty of diagrams to look at. Doug worked in silence for a few minutes, sifting through the maps on record. At any other time they would have been a fascinating study, but he was too intent on tracking down Chell to appreciate the sheer insane majesty of Aperture's structure. Beautiful and terrible.

"Ah. There it is," he exclaimed, leaning forward to look at the monitor more closely. He pinpointed the elevator shaft where she must have landed, not far from the vault door that had opened not long ago.

"There's no way we can get down there," the cube commented.

"No. But maybe we can figure out where she'll come out," he said. "If she makes it through. God knows what kind of state that part of the facility is in. It's been shut up since Cave Johnson died. Parts of it before that, even. It says here that whole areas got condemned and sealed in 1961, but were later reopened for new tests."

"Of course," the cube scoffed cynically.

Doug studied the map for a moment, eventually locating the vault door at the top of test shaft nine. "Here," he said out loud, tapping the screen.  "And where is that in relation to anywhere I know?"

It was directly underneath the oldest testing track in the modern Enrichment Centre, one that had been created by humans and enhanced by GLaDOS. Doug wasn't sure, but he thought it was the one she'd made her hostages run, the scientists who had managed to survive the neurotoxin. As test track one, it was the longest, boasting twenty-four chambers, created back when Aperture was still producing the strange gels Cave Johnson had overseen production of. As far as Doug knew, it was the only set of tests still operational for the gels. They'd been phased out in the mid-1990s.

"That's a hike," said the cube helpfully.

Doug absently rubbed his aching leg as he tried to work out a route, knowing that even with the portal gun, it would still take him hours to get there. For the next twenty minutes he scribbled on some sheets of old scrap paper, writing himself notes and directions while the facility continued to grumble above him.

"Can we please leave now?" the cube spoke up, its tone nervous.

He was feeling edgy, fighting the flight instinct that he had been steadily creeping up on him for the past few hours.

"Soon," he promised, still writing.

Almost exactly five minutes later he stood up, stuffed his notes in his lab coat pocket, picked up the portal gun and left the office. It was always a struggle to remain focused and push the babble of voices to the back of his mind, but they were becoming more and more constant the more anxious he got. The cube hummed soothing nonsense at his back that helped drown out the noise, but the chaos that seemed to be going on in the higher levels was making him tense.

Testing euphoria, he thought to himself. The mainframe needs it, and he has no test subjects. No wonder he's going crazy up there.

Since the core's betrayal, however, Doug found that Wheatley was pretty far down his sympathy list.

It's my fault for relying on him, he reflected. I knew he was programmed to make bad decisions.

He shot portals to cross a wide expanse of space that had once been a series of corridors, trying to keep his mental map straight in his head. So far, so good, but it was still a long way. The ASHPD shot through the crisscrossing patterns in the walkways, enabling him to bypass several floors if there were portal surfaces available. The further down he travelled, the less he could hear of Wheatley's rearranging, and he found himself calmer for it.

Hour by monotonous hour passed until finally he reached the bottom of modern Aperture, braving a short trip in the elevator rather than trying to climb down the outside of the test chambers, which were smooth and annoyingly free of handholds. His limbs were sore, his healing leg trembling, and he was clammy with sweat. He wasn't sure how long the trip had taken him, but it felt like the better part of a day at least. The remnants of GLaDOS's adrenal vapour had kept him going for a while, but now that he was so far down he was starting to feel how tired he was.

He correctly assumed that Wheatley wouldn't notice him using the elevator for a short time. The former Intelligence Dampening Sphere wasn't as tuned in to every little part of the facility the way GLaDOS had been. If Doug had opted to take the lift for the entire journey, he was sure that Wheatley would have noticed, but short trips were nothing.

The vault door sealing off test shaft nine was vast, fastened shut with huge, industrial-looking bolts. It dominated the floor space entirely, surrounded by a haphazard border of hastily-erected wire fences. A small section of rusty-looking gantry sat beside the seal, attached to steel cables: the most rudimentary elevator Doug had ever seen.

"That must be how the last scientists got out," the cube mused.

Doug made a small noise of agreement. "Hopefully it will get Chell out too."

If she makes it this far, he finished silently.

No, he told himself firmly, she will make it this far. I know she will.

The constant cycle of doubt and reassurance was draining.

"Now what?" the cube asked.

"We wait."

He perched himself on the stairs leading up to the elevator, eyes fixed on the vault door, portal gun cradled in his lap. The next thing he knew, a loud, metallic clanging had him sitting bolt upright. He'd fallen asleep on his vigil, and now the huge bolts had shot back, the seal slowly swinging down into the space below on a massive, squealing hinge. Startled but instantly alert, Doug darted forward to the makeshift elevator, activating the controls to raise it up and then down into the test shaft.

For a split second he considered staying put and waiting for Chell, but a burst of fear had him fleeing for the lift. The corridor above was just as empty as when he'd run down it before, but this time Wheatley's voice resonated from the test chamber next to the walkway.

"You...you're not quite..." A noisy sighing sound. "It's there. It's there, isn't it, look? The button is right there. Yes, that's it! On your left. Your left! Your other left. Oh, for crying out loud."

With no time to look in on what Wheatley was trying to achieve, Doug flew down the gantry, jabbing his code into the keypad by the door at the end. He wrenched it open and headed inside, closing it almost all the way, so that only the tiniest sliver of light crept in. He stood there for several anxious minutes, waiting for Chell to come up. Eventually he heard her footsteps on the metal walkway, and saw her shadow block out the light for an instant.

"For god's sake," he heard Wheatley go on, "you're boxes with legs. It- it's literally your only purpose: walking onto buttons. How can you not do the one thing you're designed for?"

Boxes with legs? Doug pondered, before the sound of GLaDOS's voice cut all other thoughts off. She was too quiet for him to hear what she was saying, but there was no mistaking her melodic tones, even through the reedy speaker in the potato.

Why would Chell have brought her back up here? he asked himself.

"There's only one reason," the cube put in. "They must have a plan to depose Wheatley."

"Considering the state of the facility now, I think GLaDOS must be a lesser of two evils," he theorised aloud. The tremors he'd felt before were still ongoing, and he strongly suspected that Wheatley had no idea what was involved in keeping a place like Aperture running.

Of course he has no idea, why would he? We should never have put him in charge.

"Don't blame yourself," the cube ordered, its tone gentle but not to be argued with. "He wasn't supposed to stay in charge, he was supposed to escape with us."

"That's true," he conceded, rubbing his eyes. He felt barely rested, despite his nap on the stairs, and his stomach was persistently reminding him that he hadn't eaten in a while. "What do we do now?" he asked. "Just...wait for Chell and GLaDOS to execute their plan?"

"We can't help," the cube insisted, "we don't know what they're trying to do."

Doug nodded, realising it was true. There were many ways to go about reinstating GLaDOS, and he had no way of figuring out what they would do. With that in mind, he knew there was only one course of action he could take.

"Okay. We keep moving and stay alive, and try to keep track of Chell. But if we can't..." he halted, considering. "If we can't, we get as close to the main chamber as possible. Because they'll have to go there eventually."

"That's crazy," the cube declared.

"Yes, it is," Doug agreed. "But that's what we're doing."

"We might die."

"We might. But..." He shrugged, sighing. "Maybe it's time."

The cube continued to argue. "No."

"No?"

"No. You're not giving up," it stated stubbornly. "Chell wouldn't – won't – give up. What would she say if she heard you talk like that?"

Doug sighed again, absent-mindedly fiddling with the casing on the portal device. He didn't need to voice it, but he knew damn well what Chell would say. "Okay, you've made your point."

"Have I?" the cube said sceptically.

"I will do my utmost to stay alive. Will that do?"

"For now," it conceded mulishly.

Chell’s trip through the depths of old Aperture had been rather educational. After the onslaught of memories that passing through the remains of Bring Your Daughter To Work Day had brought on, she’d been fairly confident that she could face any uncomfortable reminders of the past. That was before a collection of pre-recorded messages had introduced her to the crazy force of nature that was Cave Johnson, and reacquainted her with Caroline. Albeit, it had been a youthful-sounding, enthusiastic, vibrant Caroline, and not the cynical, sharp CEO that she remembered from her childhood.

It had quickly become apparent that GLaDOS was completely ignorant of Caroline’s significance. Chell recalled her father saying as much, but listening to the A.I. come to the realisation that part of her had once been human was surprisingly difficult. For once, Chell was glad she couldn't speak. She wouldn't have known what to say.

As they journeyed on through the fragile remains of old Aperture, Chell found herself noticing subtle differences in her former-nemesis. She was still herself: snarky, sarcastic, passive aggressive – although that was now directed at Wheatley rather than Chell – but there was a touch more humanity to her. It was understated, but it was there, as if she now remembered what humanity had felt like. To Chell it was quite disconcerting. She'd happily placed GLaDOS firmly in the category of 'enemy'. Now they were allies, and it felt strange and unnatural. Still, putting GLaDOS back in charge absolutely made sense. Despite whatever else she had done, she had always kept the facility running to the best of her ability. Wheatley, apparently, didn't even know how to.

Navigating the unsafe structure at the bottom of the salt mine hadn't been easy, and learning how to use new test elements in order to get through had been tedious, but they'd eventually made it up to the top of test shaft nine. Chell had seen the environment change the higher they got, each area an untidy, badly-preserved slice of history, from 1952 up to the 80s. She'd heard Cave Johnson age in his ongoing pre-recorded messages as he deteriorated under the influence of lunar poisoning, had seen his image grow more frail in his portraits. She'd then been faced with a test chamber that required her to literally paint the walls with the ground-up moon rock gel that had made him sick. GLaDOS had remained silent there, giving Chell no idea whether she was subjecting herself to future illness or not. But there'd been no other way through, and so she'd powered on, trying to come into minimal contact with the stuff. It was yet another thing she'd stored at the back of her mind to worry about later.

Finally they'd reached the huge transition seal at the top of the shaft, where GLaDOS informed her that the best way to defeat Wheatley was with a paradox. Chell was sceptical, but they were low on options. She just wanted to get on with things and leave. Her entire body ached, and she was still woozy from lying unconscious at the bottom of the elevator shaft for who-knew how long. The fall had been brutal, even with the long-fall boots.

Vault door open, she'd gratefully scrambled up into the crude elevator, ascending up and out of Cave Johnson's world, and into what she supposed was Caroline's legacy. Once they were back in the Aperture they were both familiar with, Chell and her potato ally found Wheatley right away, trying his hardest to conduct tests with no test subjects. His solution to that was to create weighted storage cubes that could walk themselves onto buttons. This, he'd done by creating a strange kind of cube/turret hybrid that was doing everything but walking onto the button.

Of course, Chell had thought to herself as she looked at the scene in the test chamber, completely the most logical thing to do.

She hadn't been particularly hopeful about GLaDOS's plan to take Wheatley out with a paradox, but she was still crushed when it failed. As far as she knew, they didn't have a back-up. Or if they had, GLaDOS was keeping it to herself. Chell decided to fall back on a tried and tested technique: get to the central chamber and wreak havoc from there. It was clear that another core transfer needed to take place. Other than that, she was running blind with no idea what to do.

Just like usual then. Although I had Doug's murals for guidance before...

She was trying not to think about Doug. Truth be told, she was worried about him. Wheatley's test chambers were chaotic, constructed from bits and pieces of other tests, often with only the bare essentials with regards to floor and wall structure. Several times Chell had had to work around an almost-entirely missing floor, relying on anti-gravity funnels to ferry her across gaps. Floating across the dizzying, murky depths on something so insubstantial was not her idea of fun, but she had no choice. From what she could gather from the glimpses she got of the areas outside the testing track, Wheatley's mashing together of the test chambers had disrupted the entire environment around them. She had seen dozens of broken walkways, smashed walls, transportation tubes forced to cut through walls and floors, all of it accompanied by a worryingly-constant stream of falling tiles from above. She could get by in the test chambers because Wheatley needed her there, but Doug... He was running in a minefield out there, and Chell was afraid that one false step could send him falling to his death, if Wheatley didn't accidentally crush him first.

While making her way out of old Aperture, she had had plenty of time to reflect on her former-ally's conduct, and had come to the conclusion that his programming and personality had simply made him wholly unsuitable for the responsibility he'd taken on. Wheatley was designed to make bad decisions. His actions now that he was in power were a self-fulfilling prophecy. It wasn't his fault, she knew that, but she was livid anyway. She'd always known about his selfishness, she'd coped with it on a daily basis, but he'd seemed so adamant about getting out of Aperture that she'd followed him without question. Part of her couldn't help but wonder whether the man would have acted as the core had. She had never known Darren Wheatley, not really. Knowing Wheatley-the-sphere was not the same thing as knowing Wheatley-the-man. But if she could have known whether the man would have turned on her in the same way, it would help her to know whether she could truly blame Wheatley or whether she had to lay that blame on the people who built him. Since she had no fixed direction for her anger, however, she was focusing it on Wheatley regardless of whether it was fair. After GLaDOS's paradox failed and Chell found herself a test subject yet again, she stopped caring about what was fair.

As she worked her way through Wheatley's shambolic wreckage of a testing track, she began to gain some clarity about his behaviour and, to her surprise, GLaDOS's. It became apparent very quickly that he was driven by a programmed urge to test that he was physically incapable of ignoring. The chassis he was now housed in made sure of that. GLaDOS eventually explained to her that the mainframe had what she referred to as a euphoric response to testing. Chell would have been sceptical about that had Wheatley not been quite so thorough in his reaction to said euphoria, making several loud moans that made her cringe.

They built him to sound human, but was that really necessary?

She found herself grateful for GLaDOS's apparent dignity and silence while testing. Things could have felt a lot more awkward otherwise.

You're the one making this awkward, Chell scolded herself. He's a robotic ball, he probably has no idea that he sounds like... She couldn't even finish the thought.  

Still, despite the general weirdness of the situation, it had shed some light on GLaDOS's need for test subjects. Not enough that Chell could forgive her, (or Wheatley, for that matter), for trying to kill her, but it gave her some understanding into their desperation. The more she learned about it, the more the test euphoria reminded her of a drug habit, and Wheatley soon showed signs of being an addict.

The situation evolved quicker than Chell was expecting. Wheatley seemed to adapt to the test solution euphoria with astonishing speed, something that surprised even GLaDOS. Despite Chell solving the tests with her usual efficiency, her efforts were never good enough for Wheatley. The more he adapted, the more frantic he became, finding alternative means of fixing the ‘problem’, including moving the entire test closer to the central chamber. GLaDOS seemed happy about that development, and Chell saw the advantages of it too. The central chamber was where they were trying to get to, after all. But Wheatley's method of moving the test closer meant literally shoving anything else out of the way, and once again Chell found herself fearing for Doug's safety.

He always stayed pretty close before, she reflected. Just for once, please say he kept his distance.

She didn't even know who she was pleading with. The patron saint of scientists, perhaps.

She was uncertain about everything. She’d resented being GLaDOS’s test subject, but at least that had offered a certain amount of stability. Wheatley was anything but stable, and his test chambers reflected that. Chell had had a plan before. There had been some comfort, almost routine, in carrying it out. However inexact it had been, it seemed meticulous compared to the way she was improvising now. It didn’t help that Wheatley kept changing the rules.

Chell had to ride one of the anti-gravity funnels between tests due to a missing elevator that had apparently melted. In trying to successfully navigate her to the next room, Wheatley had thrown her into the path of danger more than once. Firstly, she had almost been crushed by a moving test chamber, then she’d narrowly avoided falling to her death when he turned off the funnel, dropping through the ceiling into an office that was thankfully below.

He might actually get me killed by accident, she thought as she landed, shaken, surrounded by crumbled ceiling tiles.

"After seeing what he's done to my facility,” GLaDOS spoke up as Chell shook the dust off the portal gun, “after we take over again, is it all right if I kill him?"

Chell didn’t respond to that, recognising it as a rhetorical question. GLaDOS didn’t ask permission from anybody, she simply wanted to vent some of her rage. There was only room for so much fury in the potato. Chell was surprised that she hadn’t fried it already.

Wheatley’s obvious shock as they entered the nearest test chamber sent alarm bells ringing in Chell’s mind. The core had thought they were dead, but it hadn’t devastated him the way losing his only test subject should have. It was evident that he had an alternative in place. Chell realised at once that she and GLaDOS had become surplus to requirements. Unfortunately, Wheatley had realised it too.

“After you told me to turn that beam off,” he said conversationally, peering at her through the monitor on the wall, “I thought I’d lost you. Went poking around for other test subjects. No luck there, everyone’s still dead. Oh! But I did find something. Reminds me: I’ve got a big surprise for you two. Seriously, look forward to it.”

Chell shot him a wary look, redirecting some propulsion gel with the help of one of the funnels. Surprises from Aperture constructs, in her experience, were never good. GLaDOS’s optic flickered as she registered the development, and Chell wondered what she was thinking.

After yet another heart-stopping fling out across the bottomless pit, Chell made her way to the exit. She was feeling decidedly jittery, constantly in anticipation of Wheatley making some kind of move that would see her dead.

“You two are going to love this big surprise,” Wheatley enthused as she went. “In fact, you might say that you’re both going to love it…to death. Love it…until it kills you. Until you’re dead.” He chuckled. “All right? I don’t know whether you’re picking up on what I’m saying there, but…”

“Yes, thanks, we get it,” GLaDOS assured him dryly.

All Chell could manage to feel at the barefaced declaration was weariness piled on top of her continual tension. They were running out of time, and they didn’t even know where they were in relation to the central chamber. Panicking was not an option, but she wasn’t sure what else to do. She hadn’t panicked at all so far, which, considering what she’d been through, was a miracle.

Why does he want me dead? What did I ever do to deserve that?

Addiction or no addiction, there was no excuse for him wanting to kill her. She wasn't about to let him succeed though. She'd come too far.

Keep going, she told herself when GLaDOS remained annoyingly silent. Something will give sooner or later.

"I didn't imagine that, did I?" Doug shot over his shoulder, the fear evident in his voice. "He really said that he plans to kill them?"

"He really said that."

"But it sounds like something I would hear...you know...when my mind lies," he said hopefully.

"Think," the cube advised him gravely. "You heard the echo. You felt the reverb. That isn't your mind."

Doug nodded in acceptance, feeling the weight of the burden like physical hands pressing down on his shoulders. He and the cube were making their way alongside the testing track, having stumbled across it by chance when the melted elevator pushed Chell in a different direction than Wheatley had intended. It was a hazardous path, forcing him to rely on all of the agility he had honed over the years. Strangely, though, the intense focus required was keeping his head fairly clear.

"I have to break her out of there," he declared. "But where? There's no order to this. Wheatley's redecorating is making her skip entire tests. How am I supposed to know where she'll go?"

The cube had no answers.

Doug scrambled up the bare metalwork of a dilapidated test chamber, hearing the eerie sounds of Wheatley's maniacal laughter echoing out from the neighbouring room where Chell was. Emerging up on top of the boxy structure, Doug gazed out across the strangely empty space ahead. Entire blocks of chambers were missing, others were on fire. The exit to Chell's test was far ahead, separated from its room. The only way to get to it would be with an extremely accurate fling tactic. He looked at it in dismay, knowing full well that he would never make it without taking a much longer route around. By the time he'd done that, Chell would most likely be several chambers ahead.

Doug breathed heavily, fighting to remain calm. He'd never felt so utterly helpless. But there was nothing for it, he had to take the long route. It was either that or go back.

He heard further snatches of Wheatley's chatter as he went, keeping him updated of Chell's progress. She solved the test after approximately ten minutes, prompting a worryingly unenthusiastic response from Wheatley. That was followed by his assurances that she and GLaDOS would only have to wait two more chambers before his big surprise.

Doug put on an extra burst of speed, running across the roofs of the chambers alongside Chell's, trying his hardest to catch up before she got two chambers further. His leg protested his efforts, sending him painful reminders that it was still healing. As if he'd forgotten. The cube and the rest of the contents of his bag thumped irritatingly against his back as he ran, but still he kept on.

And then he heard something that doused his heart in ice water: Wheatley's crowing, accompanied by the sound of an aerial faith plate.

"Surprise! We're doing it now!"

A/N: This illustration was kind of a speed paint. I wish I'd had more time to work on it, but in the end I had to settle for a really simple style because I couldn't get the image of Doug's silhouette against the fire out of my head. He is still carrying the companion cube, by the way, but trying to draw it made his shape look kind of odd, so style wins over accuracy.

[almostsuperdream]

Entrepreneurs On Fire: August 2017 Income Report

August 2017 Income At-A-Glance

Gross Income for August: $237,193

Total Expenses for August: $67,662

Total Net Profit for August: $169,531

Difference b/t August & July: +$32,337

Why We Publish An Income Report

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Josh Bauerle’s Monthly Tax Tip

What’s up Fire Nation, my name is Josh Bauerle. I’m a CPA and the Founder of CPA On Fire, where we specialize in working with entrepreneurs to minimize their tax liability while keeping them in line with the ever-changing tax laws.

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And because they believe in delivering an insane amount of value to you, my job doesn’t stop at the verification level; I also provide a new tax and accounting tip every month!

Can I deduct health care related costs?

One question I get all the time is “Can I deduct health care related costs?”

We all know health issues are no fun. At least the IRS steps up to give you a nice deduction on those outrageous health care costs… right? Right?!?

Well, the unfortunate answer is: kind of.

But not near as much as you are probably being led to believe.

First of all, lets talk about what can potentially be deducted with health care costs.

The basics of it are you can deduct any “qualified” medical costs paid for you or any of your dependents in a given year.

Essentially this comes down to medical related costs paid to doctors, dentists, surgeons, hospitals, chiropractors, etc.

It also could include lodging when you have to stay in hotels for medical procedures, travel costs and health insurance costs, assuming you don’t have it taken out pre-tax through your job or business.

You can find a large list of approved medical expenses here.

Doesn’t sound too bad, right?

Those medical expenses can add up quickly, especially if you have young kids, but at least you get a nice break on your taxes for them.

I wish it were that easy…

Now we have to talk about the restrictions of deducting these medical expenses.

You Have to Itemize

The IRS gives what they call a “standard deduction” each year. This is just a tax deduction they give you out of the kindness of their hearts (aren’t they sweet?!)

In 2017, the standard deduction for a single taxpayer is $6,350.

For married taxpayers it’s $12,700.

But the IRS also gives you the option to itemize your deductions if you can beat that standard deduction with certain expenses. Itemized deductions consists of many expenses, but the main ones are mortgage interest, property taxes, state taxes, charitable contributions and medical expenses.

So if you add up all of those expenses, plus a few others, and they are more than your standard deduction, the IRS allows you to take the higher itemized deduction, which includes the medical expenses.

For most people, they likely won’t itemize unless they own a home or pay a very high amount of state taxes.

There is a 10 percent of Income Reduction

“Great” you may be saying to yourself.

You own a home and you live in California. Plenty of mortgage interest and state taxes mean you will definitely itemize and now you can deduct all those pesky medical costs, right?

Unfortunately there’s one more restriction, and this is the big one. The IRS is going to reduce those medical expenses by ten percent of your adjusted gross income.

This means if you made $100,000 last year, the IRS is going to limit your medical Cost deduction by a whopping $10,000. So if you had $11,000 in medical costs, the IRS says go ahead and deduct $1,000.

The unfortunate truth here is that unless you have very low income or very, very high medical costs, the tax code provides you almost no relief for medical costs.

So when your doctors or hospitals try and tell you not to worry too much about their crazy high costs because you will be able to deduct them on taxes, take that advice with a giant grain of salt.

Next month, we will go over a few ways that being self-employed can offer you a few better options in deducting these medical costs.

As always, please feel free to contact me if you’d like to discuss what would be best for YOUR business. I LOVE chatting with Fire Nation!

*Bonus* Claim your spot in Josh’s FREE Course on Business Entities!

What Went Down In August

Podcast Movement in Anaheim, CA

Podcast Movement is one of our favorite events.

Not only do they bring together hundreds of individuals who all have one thing in common (a love for podcasting), but they also make sure those individuals learn a lot, have an experience to remember, and leave even more inspired than when they arrived.

Podcast Movement 2017 in Anaheim was no exception.

From the opening keynote by Dan Carlin, (which was led by our good friend Andrew Warner of Mixergy), to stage appearances by Pat Flynn, Amy Porterfield, Cliff Ravenscraft, our partner Mark Asquith, and many more, PM kept us busy.

It actually all started the day before Podcast Movement when we hosted an all day Workshop called From Idea to Launch and Beyond.

With a packed house (60 podcasters ready to dive into the details) and 5 workshop leaders to help us through eight hours of content, we left no stone unturned!

The Workshop was an absolute blast and we received rave reviews from those who attended.

A huge thank you to our Workshop leaders Alissa Daire Nelson, Jodi Flynn, Kara Lamerato, Vanessa Merten and Nick Loper!

We followed our all-day workshop up with our annual Podcasters’ Paradise meet up, a pre-screening of a documentary we were a part of: The Messengers, and an after-party put on Podcast Websites at the local bowling alley!

And this was all before the event had even started!

Wednesday morning our focus turned to our sponsorship booth, where we were selling The Freedom and Mastery Journal. This year was extra fun because we were also doing a drawing for those who invested in a Journal with a first place prize of a 30-minute call with JLD!

Congrats to Andy Storch for winning first place!

Luckily we had Zach Hesterberg and Travis Chappell holding down the fort for us at the booth, because first thing Wednesday morning John was taking the stage with Pat Flynn and Amy Porterfield.

We won’t get into too many details about the talks here because we’ll be diving deep in our Podcast Movement 2017 Recap post – going live soon!

Next up on stage: me!

In front of a standing room only audience I presented Audience Growth and Meaningful Monetization with Podcasting Systems.

While I was pretty nervous to present, the feedback I received was really amazing.

The next day I hosted a panel on Niche podcasting, and I was honored to share the stage with 3 other incredible podcasters:

Josh Brown, host of Franchise Euphoria

Vanessa Merten, host of The Pregnancy Podcast

Kara Lamerato, host of The Wedding Planning Podcast

With a laser focus on providing the most amount of value possible the panel shared what they’ve learned post-launch about the importance of niching down and engaging with your audience to help your show grow.

And because each of these podcasters has monetized their show in very different ways, it was incredibly valuable to hear how they got to that stage.

Again, for all the details on our experience at Podcast Movement, be sure to check out our recap, which is going live very soon :)

A trip to Vancouver

Immediately following our four days of fun and conferencing at Podcast Movement we jumped on a plane from LAX > Vancouver to visit our great friends Jill & Josh Stanton from Screw the Nine to Five.

After a three hour delay at LAX, we didn’t end up arriving in Vancouver until midnight, so our first night in town was a hug hello – and a goodnight :)

But don’t let that fool you… even though we had zero plans upon arrival, the next day we wasted no time diving right in to everything Vancouver has to offer.

If you’ve never been, we HIGHLY recommend it!

It started with a walk around Stanley Park, which lasted about three hours and was absolutely gorgeous.

We stopped off for lunch, had an awesome stroll back, and then enjoyed the patio and ocean breeze before heading to dinner.

The next day we enjoyed another epic walk – this time down to Sunset Beach Park for some coffee and frisbee, which ultimately resulted in a visit to Granville Island.

What?! If I were ever in proximity to a public market like that one – I’d be in trouble! With what seemed like hundreds of vendors with the yummiest and most unique things to sell, we spent a good amount of time walking around.

After the market we had an amazing lunch, then headed back towards Sunset Beach Park and walked on to Yaletown and into Gastown.

That evening we had the pleasure of bbq-ing with our friends Greg and Veronica from Thinkific (based in Vancouver) along with a few other friends from Jill & Josh’s neighborhood.

I know I said we went into this with no plans, but it sounding like a pretty packed schedule, right?!

Just the way we like it :)

The next day we rented an 18′ boat and spent the day on the water – starting in Vancouver Harbor and then going over to Deep Cove where we stopped for lunch.

We couldn’t have asked for a better day – the water was like glass and the weather was perfect.

Our last day was spent hiking – all the way to Garibaldi Lake. Now this hike is no joke. We drove about an hour and half to get to the start of it, then hiked 5.5 miles to get to one of the most incredible scenes ever.

An 11 mile roundtrip hike left us spent, but luckily we had just enough time to stop back at the Stanton’s for a quick shower before our redeye back to Puerto Rico.

Trips like this really get you thinking…

Not only did we have the time freedom to choose to do this after Podcast Movement, but we had the financial freedom to make it happen, too.

Hiking all weekend, and spending the day on the water on a Monday?

We stopped multiple times throughout this trip to really take in how incredibly lucky and grateful we are for the life we’ve created.

Season 7 of Kate’s Take: How to go From Idea to Launch

It’s been well over a year in the making, but it’s finally here!

After we launched The Freedom Journal on Kickstarter I thought it would be a crime to not share that experience with Fire Nation.

All the time, effort and energy that went into figuring out how that whole process was supposed to work had to be shared.

And so pretty much immediately after our campaign on Kickstarter wrapped, I published a post (or what some might consider, a book), to share our experience and the exact steps we took to crush it on Kickstarter.

While I was creating that post, I thought: what about an audio version?

There were so many amazing team members involved in this process, and I knew if I could get them on the line for even just 20 minutes each that I would have loads of priceless advice to share with Fire Nation.

And so I did.

But those audio files and my idea to create the audio version of that post continued to get pushed to the back burner. No excuses here: I simply wasn’t making it a priority.

And so when Season 7 came up for Kate’s Take, I thought about the themes and struggles I’d been hearing from a lot of our audience, and specifically, those who tuned in to Kate’s Take.

A lot of the struggle was around taking an idea and turning that idea into something – something that could help generate revenue.

Ah-ha!

So I went back to our experience with The Freedom Journal, brought up those audio files, and I stretched myself really far to put together a season on Kate’s Take like no other.

If you want to know How to go from Idea to Launch, then this Season is for you. It’s a step-by-step guide to everything you need to consider, know and research in order to make it happen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

August 2017 Income Breakdown*

Product/Service Income: $142,981

TOTAL Journal sales: 899 Journals for a total of $36,651

The Freedom Journal: Accomplish your #1 goal in 100 days!

TheFreedomJournal.com: $5,577 (130 Hardcovers & 28 Digital Packs sold!)

Amazon: $14,937 (383 Freedom Journals sold!)

Total: $20,514

The Mastery Journal: Master Productivity, Discipline and Focus in 100 days!

TheMasteryJournal.com: $4,320 (83 Hardcovers & 22 Digital Packs sold!)

Amazon: $11,817 (303 Mastery Journals sold!)

Total: $16,137

Podcasters’ Paradise: The #1 Podcasting community in the world!

Recurring: $18,054 (183 monthly)

New members: $13,500 (42 new members)

Total: $31,554

Podcast Sponsorship Income: $69,500

Podcast Websites: $5,000 Your all-in-one podcast website peace of mind

Skills On Fire: $33

Podcast Launch: Audiobook: $208 | eBook: $35

Free Courses that result in the above revenue:

Free Podcast Course: A free 15-day course on Podcasting

Free Webinar Course: A free 10-day course on Webinars

Free Goals Course: A free 8-day course on Setting & Accomplishing Goals

Funnel On Fire: A free 8-day course on Creating a Funnel that Converts!

Affiliate Income: $94,212

*Affiliate links below

Resources for Entrepreneurs: $50,055

Audible: $270

BlueHost: $600 (Step-by-step guide and 23 WordPress tutorials)

Click Funnels: $29,968

Coaching referrals: $2,450 (email me for an introduction to a mentor for overall online business or a Podcast focused mentor!)

Mentorship: $15,000

ConvertKit: $101

Disclaimer Template: $208 (legal disclaimers for your website)

Fizzle: $186

LeadPages: $1,087

SamCart: $148

Virtual Staff Finder: $100

Courses for Entrepreneurs: $42,685

Create Awesome Online Courses by DSG: $3,699

Webinars that convert by Amy Porterfield: $547

Zero to Launch by Ramit Sethi: $877

The Amazing Seller by Scott Voelker: $742

10k Subscribers by Bryan Harris: $98

Copywriting Academy by Ray Edwards: $335

Podcast Guest Mastery by Richie Norton: $20,649

ASK by Ryan Levesque: $15,738

Resources for Podcasters: $536

Pat Flynn’s Smart Podcast Player: $24

Podcasting Press: $374

Libsyn: $0 (Use promo code FIRE for the rest of this month & next free!)

UDemy Podcasting Course: $113

Show Notes Creation by Mallard Creative: $25

Other Resources: $936

Amazon Associates: $504

Other: $432

Total Gross Income in August: $237,193

Business Expenses: $63,922

Advertising: $10,444

Affiliate Commissions (Paradise): $1,760

Accounting: $350

Cost of goods sold: $3,810

Design & Branding: $1,980

Education: $121

Legal & Professional: $507

Marketing: $320

Meals & Entertainment: $1,479

Merchant / bank fees: $2,925

Amazon fees: $8,818

Shopify fees: $219

Stripe fees: $5

PayPal fees: $267

Office expenses: $1,287

Payroll Tax Expenses / Fees: $1,624

Paradise Refunds: $1,755

Total Launch Package fees: $875

Promotional: $59

Sponsorships: $12,750

Show notes (email Mallard Creative!): $360

The Freedom & Mastery Journal: $5,021

Travel: $11 + $1,560

Virtual Assistant Fees: $4,055

Website Fees: $1,571

Recurring, Subscription-based Expenses: $3,740

Adobe Creative Cloud: $100

Boomerang: $70 (team package)

Brandisty: $24

Authorize.net: $91

Cell Phone: $107 (Thank you, ShrinkABill!)

Google: $45

Internet: $300

eVoice: $10

FB Messenger Bots: $1,000 (1-time fee)

Infusionsoft CRM: $396

Insurance: $551

Libsyn: $229

Manychat: $64

Chatroll: $49

PureChat: $20

ScheduleOnce: $9

Skype: $3

Shopify: $235

TaxJar: $19

Workflowy: $5

WPEngine: $49

MeetEdgar: $49

Taxes & Licenses: $300

Zoom: $15

Total Expenses in August: $67,662

Payroll to John & Kate: $15,900

In our May 2014 Income Report and our June 2016 Income Report, Josh focuses on how to pay yourself as an entrepreneur. Check them out!

Wondering what we do with all of our net revenue? We share all in our April 2017 Income Report :)

Total Net Profit for August 2017: $169,531

Biggest Lesson Learned

Your life is a series of choices that YOU make; the consequences of which will tell the story of your life. ~ Franz (Pencils of Promise)

You Aren’t Superwo(man)

After our travels in August, John and I returned to Puerto Rico absolutely spent.

Podcast Movement was a lot of work. Not just while we were there running the workshop, speaking on stage, and running a sponsorship booth, but all the time leading up to it, too.

The planning, the coordinating, the double and triple checking…

Not to mention the parties and meet ups and dozens upon dozens of conversations you’re having throughout the day.

It’s all amazing, but sometimes, I don’t think we realize the toll it’s taking on our bodies.

And even though we had a very relaxing trip to Vancouver immediately following Podcast Movement, it still took nearly four days to “recover” from our travels.

It got me thinking… our bodies – and our minds – are not made to ALWAYS be on. If that were the case, we wouldn’t require sleep, or water, or food.

Our bodies and our minds are meant to rest, and in order to perform at our best consistently, we have to remember to give ourselves that time.

It’s nice to think that we’re superwo(man), but it’s also okay to admit that we’re not.

Alright Fire Nation, that’s a wrap!

Until next month, keep your FIRE burning!

~ Kate & John

Note: we report our income figures as accurately as possible, but in using reports from a combo of Infusionsoft & Xero to track our product and total income / expenses, they suggest the possibility of a 3 – 5% margin of error. 

Click here for all of EOFire’s Income Reports

This post was written by Kate Erickson, Content Creator and Implementer at EOFire. Follow Kate on Social:

The post Entrepreneurs On Fire: August 2017 Income Report appeared first on Entrepreneurs on Fire with John Lee Dumas.

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Entrepreneurs On Fire: August 2017 Income Report

August 2017 Income At-A-Glance

Gross Income for August: $237,193

Total Expenses for August: $67,662

Total Net Profit for August: $169,531

Difference b/t August & July: +$32,337

Why We Publish An Income Report

This monthly income report is created for you, Fire Nation!

By documenting the struggles we encounter and the successes we celebrate as entrepreneurs every single month, we’re able to provide you with support – and a single resource – where we share what’s working, what’s not, and what’s possible.

There’s a lot of hard work that goes into learning and growing as an entrepreneur, especially when you’re just starting out. The most important part of the equation is that you’re able to pass on what you learn to others through teaching, which is what we aim to do here.

Let’s IGNITE!

**We’ll receive a commission on the affiliate links below.

Josh Bauerle’s Monthly Tax Tip

What’s up Fire Nation, my name is Josh Bauerle. I’m a CPA and the Founder of CPA On Fire, where we specialize in working with entrepreneurs to minimize their tax liability while keeping them in line with the ever-changing tax laws.

I’ve been working with JLD & Kate at Entrepreneurs On Fire for years now, and they’ve included me in these monthly income reports with unlimited access to all their accounts so I can verify that what they report here is complete and accurate.

And because they believe in delivering an insane amount of value to you, my job doesn’t stop at the verification level; I also provide a new tax and accounting tip every month!

Can I deduct health care related costs?

One question I get all the time is “Can I deduct health care related costs?”

We all know health issues are no fun. At least the IRS steps up to give you a nice deduction on those outrageous health care costs… right? Right?!?

Well, the unfortunate answer is: kind of.

But not near as much as you are probably being led to believe.

First of all, lets talk about what can potentially be deducted with health care costs.

The basics of it are you can deduct any “qualified” medical costs paid for you or any of your dependents in a given year.

Essentially this comes down to medical related costs paid to doctors, dentists, surgeons, hospitals, chiropractors, etc.

It also could include lodging when you have to stay in hotels for medical procedures, travel costs and health insurance costs, assuming you don’t have it taken out pre-tax through your job or business.

You can find a large list of approved medical expenses here.

Doesn’t sound too bad, right?

Those medical expenses can add up quickly, especially if you have young kids, but at least you get a nice break on your taxes for them.

I wish it were that easy…

Now we have to talk about the restrictions of deducting these medical expenses.

You Have to Itemize

The IRS gives what they call a “standard deduction” each year. This is just a tax deduction they give you out of the kindness of their hearts (aren’t they sweet?!)

In 2017, the standard deduction for a single taxpayer is $6,350.

For married taxpayers it’s $12,700.

But the IRS also gives you the option to itemize your deductions if you can beat that standard deduction with certain expenses. Itemized deductions consists of many expenses, but the main ones are mortgage interest, property taxes, state taxes, charitable contributions and medical expenses.

So if you add up all of those expenses, plus a few others, and they are more than your standard deduction, the IRS allows you to take the higher itemized deduction, which includes the medical expenses.

For most people, they likely won’t itemize unless they own a home or pay a very high amount of state taxes.

There is a 10 percent of Income Reduction

“Great” you may be saying to yourself.

You own a home and you live in California. Plenty of mortgage interest and state taxes mean you will definitely itemize and now you can deduct all those pesky medical costs, right?

Unfortunately there’s one more restriction, and this is the big one. The IRS is going to reduce those medical expenses by ten percent of your adjusted gross income.

This means if you made $100,000 last year, the IRS is going to limit your medical Cost deduction by a whopping $10,000. So if you had $11,000 in medical costs, the IRS says go ahead and deduct $1,000.

The unfortunate truth here is that unless you have very low income or very, very high medical costs, the tax code provides you almost no relief for medical costs.

So when your doctors or hospitals try and tell you not to worry too much about their crazy high costs because you will be able to deduct them on taxes, take that advice with a giant grain of salt.

Next month, we will go over a few ways that being self-employed can offer you a few better options in deducting these medical costs.

As always, please feel free to contact me if you’d like to discuss what would be best for YOUR business. I LOVE chatting with Fire Nation!

*Bonus* Claim your spot in Josh’s FREE Course on Business Entities!

What Went Down In August

Podcast Movement in Anaheim, CA

Podcast Movement is one of our favorite events.

Not only do they bring together hundreds of individuals who all have one thing in common (a love for podcasting), but they also make sure those individuals learn a lot, have an experience to remember, and leave even more inspired than when they arrived.

Podcast Movement 2017 in Anaheim was no exception.

From the opening keynote by Dan Carlin, (which was led by our good friend Andrew Warner of Mixergy), to stage appearances by Pat Flynn, Amy Porterfield, Cliff Ravenscraft, our partner Mark Asquith, and many more, PM kept us busy.

It actually all started the day before Podcast Movement when we hosted an all day Workshop called From Idea to Launch and Beyond.

With a packed house (60 podcasters ready to dive into the details) and 5 workshop leaders to help us through eight hours of content, we left no stone unturned!

The Workshop was an absolute blast and we received rave reviews from those who attended.

A huge thank you to our Workshop leaders Alissa Daire Nelson, Jodi Flynn, Kara Lamerato, Vanessa Merten and Nick Loper!

We followed our all-day workshop up with our annual Podcasters’ Paradise meet up, a pre-screening of a documentary we were a part of: The Messengers, and an after-party put on Podcast Websites at the local bowling alley!

And this was all before the event had even started!

Wednesday morning our focus turned to our sponsorship booth, where we were selling The Freedom and Mastery Journal. This year was extra fun because we were also doing a drawing for those who invested in a Journal with a first place prize of a 30-minute call with JLD!

Congrats to Andy Storch for winning first place!

Luckily we had Zach Hesterberg and Travis Chappell holding down the fort for us at the booth, because first thing Wednesday morning John was taking the stage with Pat Flynn and Amy Porterfield.

We won’t get into too many details about the talks here because we’ll be diving deep in our Podcast Movement 2017 Recap post – going live soon!

Next up on stage: me!

In front of a standing room only audience I presented Audience Growth and Meaningful Monetization with Podcasting Systems.

While I was pretty nervous to present, the feedback I received was really amazing.

The next day I hosted a panel on Niche podcasting, and I was honored to share the stage with 3 other incredible podcasters:

Josh Brown, host of Franchise Euphoria

Vanessa Merten, host of The Pregnancy Podcast

Kara Lamerato, host of The Wedding Planning Podcast

With a laser focus on providing the most amount of value possible the panel shared what they’ve learned post-launch about the importance of niching down and engaging with your audience to help your show grow.

And because each of these podcasters has monetized their show in very different ways, it was incredibly valuable to hear how they got to that stage.

Again, for all the details on our experience at Podcast Movement, be sure to check out our recap, which is going live very soon :)

A trip to Vancouver

Immediately following our four days of fun and conferencing at Podcast Movement we jumped on a plane from LAX > Vancouver to visit our great friends Jill & Josh Stanton from Screw the Nine to Five.

After a three hour delay at LAX, we didn’t end up arriving in Vancouver until midnight, so our first night in town was a hug hello – and a goodnight :)

But don’t let that fool you… even though we had zero plans upon arrival, the next day we wasted no time diving right in to everything Vancouver has to offer.

If you’ve never been, we HIGHLY recommend it!

It started with a walk around Stanley Park, which lasted about three hours and was absolutely gorgeous.

We stopped off for lunch, had an awesome stroll back, and then enjoyed the patio and ocean breeze before heading to dinner.

The next day we enjoyed another epic walk – this time down to Sunset Beach Park for some coffee and frisbee, which ultimately resulted in a visit to Granville Island.

What?! If I were ever in proximity to a public market like that one – I’d be in trouble! With what seemed like hundreds of vendors with the yummiest and most unique things to sell, we spent a good amount of time walking around.

After the market we had an amazing lunch, then headed back towards Sunset Beach Park and walked on to Yaletown and into Gastown.

That evening we had the pleasure of bbq-ing with our friends Greg and Veronica from Thinkific (based in Vancouver) along with a few other friends from Jill & Josh’s neighborhood.

I know I said we went into this with no plans, but it sounding like a pretty packed schedule, right?!

Just the way we like it :)

The next day we rented an 18′ boat and spent the day on the water – starting in Vancouver Harbor and then going over to Deep Cove where we stopped for lunch.

We couldn’t have asked for a better day – the water was like glass and the weather was perfect.

Our last day was spent hiking – all the way to Garibaldi Lake. Now this hike is no joke. We drove about an hour and half to get to the start of it, then hiked 5.5 miles to get to one of the most incredible scenes ever.

An 11 mile roundtrip hike left us spent, but luckily we had just enough time to stop back at the Stanton’s for a quick shower before our redeye back to Puerto Rico.

Trips like this really get you thinking…

Not only did we have the time freedom to choose to do this after Podcast Movement, but we had the financial freedom to make it happen, too.

Hiking all weekend, and spending the day on the water on a Monday?

We stopped multiple times throughout this trip to really take in how incredibly lucky and grateful we are for the life we’ve created.

Season 7 of Kate’s Take: How to go From Idea to Launch

It’s been well over a year in the making, but it’s finally here!

After we launched The Freedom Journal on Kickstarter I thought it would be a crime to not share that experience with Fire Nation.

All the time, effort and energy that went into figuring out how that whole process was supposed to work had to be shared.

And so pretty much immediately after our campaign on Kickstarter wrapped, I published a post (or what some might consider, a book), to share our experience and the exact steps we took to crush it on Kickstarter.

While I was creating that post, I thought: what about an audio version?

There were so many amazing team members involved in this process, and I knew if I could get them on the line for even just 20 minutes each that I would have loads of priceless advice to share with Fire Nation.

And so I did.

But those audio files and my idea to create the audio version of that post continued to get pushed to the back burner. No excuses here: I simply wasn’t making it a priority.

And so when Season 7 came up for Kate’s Take, I thought about the themes and struggles I’d been hearing from a lot of our audience, and specifically, those who tuned in to Kate’s Take.

A lot of the struggle was around taking an idea and turning that idea into something – something that could help generate revenue.

Ah-ha!

So I went back to our experience with The Freedom Journal, brought up those audio files, and I stretched myself really far to put together a season on Kate’s Take like no other.

If you want to know How to go from Idea to Launch, then this Season is for you. It’s a step-by-step guide to everything you need to consider, know and research in order to make it happen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

August 2017 Income Breakdown*

Product/Service Income: $142,981

TOTAL Journal sales: 899 Journals for a total of $36,651

The Freedom Journal: Accomplish your #1 goal in 100 days!

TheFreedomJournal.com: $5,577 (130 Hardcovers & 28 Digital Packs sold!)

Amazon: $14,937 (383 Freedom Journals sold!)

Total: $20,514

The Mastery Journal: Master Productivity, Discipline and Focus in 100 days!

TheMasteryJournal.com: $4,320 (83 Hardcovers & 22 Digital Packs sold!)

Amazon: $11,817 (303 Mastery Journals sold!)

Total: $16,137

Podcasters’ Paradise: The #1 Podcasting community in the world!

Recurring: $18,054 (183 monthly)

New members: $13,500 (42 new members)

Total: $31,554

Podcast Sponsorship Income: $69,500

Podcast Websites: $5,000 Your all-in-one podcast website peace of mind

Skills On Fire: $33

Podcast Launch: Audiobook: $208 | eBook: $35

Free Courses that result in the above revenue:

Free Podcast Course: A free 15-day course on Podcasting

Free Webinar Course: A free 10-day course on Webinars

Free Goals Course: A free 8-day course on Setting & Accomplishing Goals

Funnel On Fire: A free 8-day course on Creating a Funnel that Converts!

Affiliate Income: $94,212

*Affiliate links below

Resources for Entrepreneurs: $50,055

Audible: $270

BlueHost: $600 (Step-by-step guide and 23 WordPress tutorials)

Click Funnels: $29,968

Coaching referrals: $2,450 (email me for an introduction to a mentor for overall online business or a Podcast focused mentor!)

Mentorship: $15,000

ConvertKit: $101

Disclaimer Template: $208 (legal disclaimers for your website)

Fizzle: $186

LeadPages: $1,087

SamCart: $148

Virtual Staff Finder: $100

Courses for Entrepreneurs: $42,685

Create Awesome Online Courses by DSG: $3,699

Webinars that convert by Amy Porterfield: $547

Zero to Launch by Ramit Sethi: $877

The Amazing Seller by Scott Voelker: $742

10k Subscribers by Bryan Harris: $98

Copywriting Academy by Ray Edwards: $335

Podcast Guest Mastery by Richie Norton: $20,649

ASK by Ryan Levesque: $15,738

Resources for Podcasters: $536

Pat Flynn’s Smart Podcast Player: $24

Podcasting Press: $374

Libsyn: $0 (Use promo code FIRE for the rest of this month & next free!)

UDemy Podcasting Course: $113

Show Notes Creation by Mallard Creative: $25

Other Resources: $936

Amazon Associates: $504

Other: $432

Total Gross Income in August: $237,193

Business Expenses: $63,922

Advertising: $10,444

Affiliate Commissions (Paradise): $1,760

Accounting: $350

Cost of goods sold: $3,810

Design & Branding: $1,980

Education: $121

Legal & Professional: $507

Marketing: $320

Meals & Entertainment: $1,479

Merchant / bank fees: $2,925

Amazon fees: $8,818

Shopify fees: $219

Stripe fees: $5

PayPal fees: $267

Office expenses: $1,287

Payroll Tax Expenses / Fees: $1,624

Paradise Refunds: $1,755

Total Launch Package fees: $875

Promotional: $59

Sponsorships: $12,750

Show notes (email Mallard Creative!): $360

The Freedom & Mastery Journal: $5,021

Travel: $11 + $1,560

Virtual Assistant Fees: $4,055

Website Fees: $1,571

Recurring, Subscription-based Expenses: $3,740

Adobe Creative Cloud: $100

Boomerang: $70 (team package)

Brandisty: $24

Authorize.net: $91

Cell Phone: $107 (Thank you, ShrinkABill!)

Google: $45

Internet: $300

eVoice: $10

FB Messenger Bots: $1,000 (1-time fee)

Infusionsoft CRM: $396

Insurance: $551

Libsyn: $229

Manychat: $64

Chatroll: $49

PureChat: $20

ScheduleOnce: $9

Skype: $3

Shopify: $235

TaxJar: $19

Workflowy: $5

WPEngine: $49

MeetEdgar: $49

Taxes & Licenses: $300

Zoom: $15

Total Expenses in August: $67,662

Payroll to John & Kate: $15,900

In our May 2014 Income Report and our June 2016 Income Report, Josh focuses on how to pay yourself as an entrepreneur. Check them out!

Wondering what we do with all of our net revenue? We share all in our April 2017 Income Report :)

Total Net Profit for August 2017: $169,531

Biggest Lesson Learned

Your life is a series of choices that YOU make; the consequences of which will tell the story of your life. ~ Franz (Pencils of Promise)

You Aren’t Superwo(man)

After our travels in August, John and I returned to Puerto Rico absolutely spent.

Podcast Movement was a lot of work. Not just while we were there running the workshop, speaking on stage, and running a sponsorship booth, but all the time leading up to it, too.

The planning, the coordinating, the double and triple checking…

Not to mention the parties and meet ups and dozens upon dozens of conversations you’re having throughout the day.

It’s all amazing, but sometimes, I don’t think we realize the toll it’s taking on our bodies.

And even though we had a very relaxing trip to Vancouver immediately following Podcast Movement, it still took nearly four days to “recover” from our travels.

It got me thinking… our bodies – and our minds – are not made to ALWAYS be on. If that were the case, we wouldn’t require sleep, or water, or food.

Our bodies and our minds are meant to rest, and in order to perform at our best consistently, we have to remember to give ourselves that time.

It’s nice to think that we’re superwo(man), but it’s also okay to admit that we’re not.

Alright Fire Nation, that’s a wrap!

Until next month, keep your FIRE burning!

~ Kate & John

Note: we report our income figures as accurately as possible, but in using reports from a combo of Infusionsoft & Xero to track our product and total income / expenses, they suggest the possibility of a 3 – 5% margin of error. 

Click here for all of EOFire’s Income Reports

This post was written by Kate Erickson, Content Creator and Implementer at EOFire. Follow Kate on Social:

The post Entrepreneurs On Fire: August 2017 Income Report appeared first on Entrepreneurs on Fire with John Lee Dumas.

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