#we simply approach the systems of the world from another angle

[hunter-djura]

Hard agree.

Additionally, as someone with ADHD - I'm aware of how time affects relationships. It's no mystery that people change over time and so too must your relationships.

It's not front of mind, but I doubt that most people think of their less contacted friends in such a systematized way either.

Speaking of; Friendship 'mechanics' is quite telling.

[raisindave]

[Chapter 46] Seeing the World Through Ballistic-Tinted Glasses

The Beef Ravioli Meal Ready-to-Eat™ was definitely the weakest flavour; gummy pasta and freeze-dried meat had a unique ability to taste like fish despite its assumed absence. No matter how much imaginary fish there was in this beige packet of nutrients, it tasted like ambrosia, personally gifted into your open palms in a basket of grape leaves by the Olympians above. It was fitting, too, when the long sheets you'd wrapped around yourself made you look like an elegant goddess in a flowing toga. You'd even managed to subdue a Nemean lion, writhing and buckling under his restraints, a gift-wrapped offering. You felt like Heracles himself. Nothing could be as satisfying and filling as this. Well, maybe that's not strictly true, considering your company. You simply couldn't scarf the food down fast enough. Like a light switch, your appetite had clicked into your system again, discarding all courtesy and restraint. 

"Could you at least zip me up?" Ghost barked in that deep, commanding tone, attempting to dazzle you into action as if he had any dominion in this bunker.

"Hmm," You took another bite, humming into the provided plastic spoon as you spoke. "I'll circle back to you on that one."

"You've had your fun Cricket. Let me go, we have no idea when someone will pull us out of this shithole."

"How will we know it's one of us?" You posited, mulling over the thought as you processed another mouthful of food. 

"They'll use a countersign."

"What's the countersign?" 

"That's classified."

Your eyes involuntarily rolled. Asking him to not be an asshole is one thing, but asking him to be nice is another. You'd already survived drilling deeply buried sympathy from him, so it's probably not worth digging for additional kindness. One step at a time. After you're done with him, he'll be a gentle and soft-spoken sweetheart like Bob Ross or Mr. Rogers. The prospect made you nearly choke on your spoon. 

"And I thought we were getting somewhere with those manners of yours," You pouted, glancing back at him as you finished your last morsel of food from the glossy packet. "Plus, I'm enjoying the view." 

Satisfied with your meal, a different hunger had yet to be fully addressed. Noticing your approach, he heaved against his restraints again, watching the whites of his eyes as he scowled up at you coldly. Even with that supposed reluctance and furrowed glare, his stiff anatomy betrayed his stoicism. You practically fell to your knees, planting them on the brisk concrete beside his waist. Wasting no time, your cool fingers angled his cock back into the correct trajectory that would let you slide yourself over it. Despite enjoying it a short while ago, the size still made you gasp, no matter how slick you'd become. His hips lifted to greet you, and you afforded him that rare glimmer of agency only because it felt so good. Slowly but eagerly, you worked yourself to rise and fall over him, lavishing in his ability to reach an itch you'd never felt scratched by any other partner. He shouldn't get that much credit though, you're doing all the heavy lifting. 

"You did this to yourself, you know," you sighed, smiling coyly as his eyes lifted to meet yours. "I'm sure Laswell would understand if she saw you like this."

He was visibly repulsed by your words. Repulsed by the mention of his boss, he was horrified at the implication. It pleased you. Unfortunately, you shared a boss, so mentioning her name would go best left unsaid. This entire encounter was like a game of cat and mouse. No, that's not entirely correct. It's more like cat and cat. Cat and cat who's finally finding karma catch up to him. 

A flash of silver caught your hazy eyes in the red din encompassing you both, catching a glimpse of his dog tag in the breathy scuffle. Taking advantage of a rare opportunity of pliability with this man, your fingers were already fishing beneath the collar of his jacket. For the brief second your fingers got to slide below his jacket, his skin was scorching to the touch. He wrenched his head away, to no effect. Silvery hot metal, warmed by his heaving chest, was clinking under your curious fingertips. They were made differently from your own, circular rather than your country's rectangular models. O-POS blood type, Lt. RILEY S., SAS, and a lengthy service number were what you could make out in the dim crimson lighting. All known information, though it still felt like a rare sight- like a white hart or a stripeless zebra. Glancing back up, he was glaring at you cautiously. 

With renewed fervour, your pace quickened as fragrant hair spilled over his face. Hooked and lopped around your thumb, you dragged the steel pearls to the back of his neck, forcing the chain to catch just below his Adam's apple. His breath faintly weakened under your grip as you wrought his own jewellery around the collum of his pale throat. It made your insides coil as you churned them with his anatomy, forcing your heaving breath to thunder from your chest. Satisfaction was quickly approaching, and you knew he could tell. 

"Come for me," he commanded, sucking in air through his locked teeth. 

"I don't recognize your authority, lieutenant," you sighed sweetly, letting your mouth hang open as you kicked your head back. 

You were simply enjoying the ride. Finding peace and satisfaction in riding at your own pace, straining your thighs to find that ideal tempo that makes your insides tighten. It made your grip on his metal collar tighten too, digging it into his biting flesh. For the first while, you weren't even sure if the act elicited any form of reaction, but now that you'd put nearly your entire body weight into the act, his breath finally hitched under the strain. Watching his eyelids flutter as he watched your every movement is what aimed to send you over the edge, feeling your thighs ache under the exertion. Burning muscles are irrelevant, and your body takes over your consciousness. Pants and sighs slipped past your lips, lowering your gaze to see his half-lidded stare at your open mouth. Ripping heat tore into your core, and your head swayed back as the climax crashed through you. You identified the low whine that had inadvertently surged through your throat and your brutal grip on his dog tags. 

Satisfied and warm, your rocking pace ceased entirely, relenting your vice on his jewellery. With one last pleased exhale, drinking in the tingling warmth, you lifted yourself off his lap. Staggering but easing into your exhausted thighs, you trod over to the aluminum table across the room, cloaking yourself in the discarded sheets once again. More than anything, your other hunger still lingered, and you pawed through the shallow trunk to identify another MRE flavour to savour. You'd settled on Chicken Minestrone™, a personal favourite, though it's like choosing your favourite way to be punched in the face. 

"Aren't you going to come finish me off?"

"You already had your fun. You haven't earned another," you raised your eyebrows to match his scathing glare while you pried open the glossy paper packaging. 

"You're cruel," his low voice croaked, surrendering to slump back down on the floor. 

"I try," you sing into the spoon. 

He should really consider this meal break as more of a mercy, counting himself lucky that your nerves had left you starved of food for the past few days. It's giving him an undeserved break from your brutalizing. To say it's enjoyable to take potshots at him is an understatement. It's justice, really. He's enjoyed his time when he could jibe and chide you in every other setting, but for probably the first time in his life, he's now subjected to the consequences of his unnecessary meanness. It's got to sting for him to feel this way, almost as much as it stings to be on the other side of his needlessly cold rebukes. Maybe this will teach him a lesson, maybe it won't. Either way, relieving this explosive tension that's been building for months is satisfying. 

"I thought you SAS folks were supposed to have expert control over your body," you sighed, knowing your words will cut deep. 

"Fuck off,"

"I was honestly expecting you to put up more of a fight," you veiled your face in a visage of despondency.

He left his turn to silence, forcing you to enjoy another bite of mediocre Chicken Minestrone™ without another grumble from your patron. 

"Believe me, I know just as well as you- these urges build up over time," you lamented sweetly into another mouthful of lukewarm powdery pasta. "I mean, we have the same lifestyle, you know."

He raises his head to glare at you, eyes squinting slightly in disapproval, scoffing at your words. 

"-For the most part." you corrected, pouting in simulated uncertainty. 

The cutting scowl persisted, cold and knowing. 

"-kind of."

The harshness softens into his standard brooding glare. Returning to problem-solve himself out of his bindings, you recognized him identifying the weak points in the cuffs. No, you're not done with him just yet. 

"You're telling me you boys don't ever do it with each other?" You cooed in feigned ignorance, masking your prodding with concern. 

He looked back at you from his strategizing to stare at you in utter confusion and disgust. Even with the mask over his face, you saw his eyebrows furrow intensely, offended by your proposition. You sighed in satisfaction, recognizing an excellent opportunity for cruel and unusual sadism. 

"No."

"Never? Not once?" You curred, cocking your head to the side in concern. 

"Never," he spat coldly. 

"Not even a little tug from Soapy under the table when Big Daddy Price isn't looking?"

"No, and don't call him that."

"What, Soapy? Or Big Daddy Price?"

"Just shut the fuck up."

"Ohh~ she's bashful," your mouth tightened into a cheeky smile. 

He'd turned to ignore you, arching his back to gather a better view of his vice in an attempt to relive the plastic shackles. The red lighting was coming to dim slowly, approaching the tail end of its expected shelf-life. It was threatening to bask this entire bunker into cruel darkness, though it also brought a few new options of indulgence to the table.

"I don't believe that. When you're surrounded by a group of strapping, fit young lads I'm sure you must want to cop-a-feel in the changing rooms. When your blood's up after a tough raid, you've got to find release somehow… It's only natural, lieutenant," you posited, crossing your leg over the other in the thin metal chair. 

He continued to ignore your prodding, unfortunately signalling that he'd refuse any further divulgences into this topic. Still, a certain curiosity nagged at you. This was another opportunity to pry lingering questions from him, especially when he was particularly compliant. Plus, you can't just let him continue trying to rid himself of your bonds. 

"Well, when's the last time you had sex at all?" You posited, resting your elbow on the table in thought.

"I don't fucking remember, I don't care."

"You must really enjoy your fist then," you smiled, knowing full well how much he delighted in the feeling of his own glove only minutes ago. The flicker of recognition in his eyes said that he caught your connotation.

"I can't remember," He sighed, dejected and bored. 

"That's what they all say. You're a man. I know damn well you remember."

"Are you calling me a liar?" That bitterness returned, eerily lighthearted and unnervingly chilling. 

"Categorically," a new smile pulled at your lips, and when you raised your vision, he was staring at you with that dark glower again. 

"Fuckin' hell, you're so insufferable," he chuckled lowly. 

Ironic. 

That prompted you to stand, pushing the screeching metal chair across the rough concrete. Sore muscles around your hips made their protests known, and you fumbled slightly. It's like the feeling you get in your bones after a particularly severe workout, only it's condensed into a stagnant ache just below your belly button. He noticed, scoffing at you. Funny, is it?

That tape you spied in his kit a while ago looked mighty tempting right now, and his mouth could use a bit of extra covering. Bending to snatch it, another ache made itself known, and you identified his eyes, scanning you skeptically. A popping button freed the smooth dark roll from the side of his kit, rolling the velvety smooth tape between your fingers. These guys are equipped with a whole hardware store on every mission, so it's no wonder why they're always so grim. Your footsteps slapped on the cool concrete as you paced, twirling the roll around your pointer finger. He tracked you like an eagle watching salmon in a stream. You'd gathered the red glowstick in your fingers as well from where it had been left beside the mattress, it was notably warm to the touch. However, that heat was quickly dissipating. That's of no matter, though. You shared with him one last glance in his direction before you popped the glowstick into the trunk of MREs, extinguishing the light in the room as you clicked the jingling clasp shut. 

Now basked in utter darkness, you followed memorized footsteps to return to his company. You knew he'd hear your treads as well, and the darkness is surely making his mind spin as to what brutal punishment you'd have in store for him next. 

Hiking your knee up, you planted your foot on his chest, pushing him down to lay flat, despite some resistance. You felt the gruff zipper and slick nylon of his jacket beneath you, pushing him down and staring at the darkness where you imagined his grim and spiteful glare to be. It conjured memories of when you spied him doing single-arm pushups in the SAS academy in London. The heat you felt in your chest, watching those heaving muscles effortlessly lift and lower his massive chiselled form. And here he is now. He's under your foot, literally, at your beck and call. Your personal sex toy, who moonlights as a SAS super soldier. 

You knew he'd recognize the scrunching sound of unravelling tape as it reverberated through the concrete echo chamber. He sighed when you dropped yourself down onto his lap again, where he was already noticeably eager for your approach as you connected with his groin. Setting the readied tape aside, you shuffled yourself to rest tighter on his lap, feeling your way up his torso. Fingertips settled on the base of his mask, loose fabric draping around his throat. He jerked his head away from your touch, but you refused to relent. After all, you knew full well he knew the safe word. He came up with the damn thing. 

Lifting the fabric piece of his mask to rest across the bridge of his nose, you fumbled in the darkness to trace down his jaw. You felt stubble prickling across his chin and jaw, probably a consequence of spending so much time away from the base. Fingertips continued to serve as your eyes, feeling brief pauses in stubble that made way for glossy skin, definitely scar tissue. His lips were parted slightly, slick but cracking from a lack of moisture, likely a result of spending days on end with a mask over your mouth. He'd kicked his head back sharply, concluding your exploration. Doesn't he know he's not in control? Resuming your initial mission, you took the silky tape back into your hands, unwinding a length and snipping it with your teeth. The first strip of tape around his mouth was met with some resistance, but the second helped solidify its hold. A third, for good measure, and he was left to groan and mumble the obscenities he was likely spewing at you. Enough talking for you, Ghostie. 

It made your heart rate elevate and breath deepen; a shift in posture let you feel his rigidity below your heat. You imagined those puppy eyes, so sweet, deep brown and gleaming. However, when he quickly realized that voicing his opinions wouldn't work, he changed gears to unveil a new method to find what he sought. That's when he did something you weren't expecting. Renewed fury spurred him to wrench at his plastic shackles, and you could do naught but listen on in horror as the mechanical bull bucked below you. He had been sliding the zip tie binds against the gruff metal of the cast-iron bed frame, degrading its composition. It was only seconds after your foggy mind could articulate what he was doing before he'd used one last tactful yank, and he was free. 

Tinkering plastic shoots over the concrete floor, and icy dread pangs in your throat- as does his fist as those bare, calloused fingers clutch your trachea. It felt like the basketball had been tossed into the air to kick off the start of a match, and for a moment, time stood still.

<< Prev Chapter           Next Chapter>> ALSO, for the record, I have absolutely no problem with Ghost/Soap ships. I think that ship is super fun, and there's a lot of super beautiful art on this site about that ship. I just personally interpreted their relationship as more brotherly when I played the games. However, you’re also welcome to interpret his overly hostile response however you want lol.

Master List

[louisgamingblog]

Resident Evil 4 Remastered is a masterful crossover of action and horror

Picture this you're in the middle of nowhere, deep within a desolate countryside town somewhere in Spain. Eerie whispers in a foreign language echo through narrow alleys, he screeching sirens of crows, lurking from the trees, the unsettling creaks of decaying houses. Then out of nowhere a chainsaw building maniac bursts onto the scene, thirsty for blood. This is the world of Resident Evil 4 in a nutshell. A game that effortlessly straddles between heart pounding action and spine chilling horror.

So what makes this newer and updated version of the 2004 original classic such a masterful crossover of action and horror. Lets dive into the demented and twisted corridors of the game and unlock its secret formular makes it such a heart pounding and thrilling experience.

To begin with, perhaps Resident Evil 4's most effective feature is that is absolutely nails the delicate art of pacing. Its like Capcom are master chefs with 30 years in the business and they can perfectly craft a gourmet of suspense. The game very slowly reels you in giving you a confident sense of security as the first chapter begins. It builds up its ominous atmosphere gradually, letting the tension simmer for a little while before it reaches a boil. In the beginning you're navigating the dark and eerie outskirts of the quiet village. You hear unsettling noises, but you can not see anything, you wonder what horrors are lurking in the shadows. Then just as you begin to put your guard down, The intensity cranks up to the max, and you are hit with relentless waves of enemies and adrenaline pumping encounters. There is a roller-coaster of emotion and feelings that keep you hooked and alert from start to finish.

Moving onto the mechanics of the game, its combat system is another ace that it has up its sleeve. Resident Evil 4 does not just throw hordes of enemies at you and says good luck, it picks it specific moments where it'll hand you a diverse arsenal of weaponry and strategies that you can you use to your advantage for various scenarios. Some weapons and tactics suiting certain situations over others. The satisfying kick of a shotgun, the deadly precision of a well aimed headshot and the nerve wrecking decision to either fight your enemies in a wild show of gun and glory, take a conservative approach and pick them off one at a time from distance, or flee and run away all together, there are so many angles a player can approach the gameplay with each and all having benefits and detriments. Its a ballet of violence and survival. This balance in empowering the player while maintaining a constant undercurrent reminder of vulnerability and mortality is where the game hits the nail on the head. Despite the protagonist Leon Kennedy being a combat trained, strong and athletic special agent, we are made very much aware that he is not an indestructible superhero. In the situation you find yourself with him, he is a survivor, and every encounter is a potential dance with danger and death.

The iconic enemies in Resident Evil 4 play a crucial role in it's success. From the chainsaw wielding maniacs to the horrifying and grotesque Regenerators, each enemy is a nightmare in its own right, and require different approaches and weaponry to take them down effectively. Where as the chainsaw man simply requires him to be pumped with as much lead as quick as possible, the regenerator rewards you for having precise accuracy, by hitting the individual parasites scattered within different parts of their bodies. These enemies aren't just nuisance obstacles they are physical manifestations of fear and the game revels in keeping you constantly on edge. The dread of not knowing what abomination lurks around the corner is a constant companion, making every advancing step a courageous leap into the ominous unknown.

Gameplay and pacing aside, there has to be some serious acknowledgment to Resident Evil 4's atmospheric level design. The environments are not just backdrops, they are characters within the horror narrative. Whether you're navigating the eerily quiet settlements of the village, the decrepit medieval castle, a haunted island or an abandoned military factory, each location has it's own flavour of terror and threats that await the player. The tight and claustrophobic corridors amplify the feeling of being stalked and hunted, like you're going to be forced into a dead end, meanwhile open spaces give a sense of vulnerability like you're going to be ambushed by a large count of enemies. The world design feels like a haunted house and you're exploring its darkest corner with trepidation.

What truly sets Resident Evil 4 apart from other games within it's genre. giving it it's title of not only one of the best survival horror games ever, but also one of the best video games ever made, is its commitment to reinventing the survival horror genre. It does not rely solely on the jump scares and grotesque visuals. It creates an extremely immersive experience that seeps write into your soul. The chilling soundtrack, the subtle yet eerie ambient sounds and the very minimalist approach to storytelling, creates a perfect storm of horror. It's not just about what meets the eye first hand, its also about what you hear and what you feel. Every creak, every distance snarl, becomes a part of the narrative, building a truly unforgettable haunting atmosphere.

In conclusion, Resident Evil 4 Remastered is a masterclass and a perfect dovetail between the elements of action and horror. It takes all the best parts of the survival horror genre and infuses them with shots of adrenaline to create a concoction of a heart pounding gameplay experience with spinechilling atmosphere. Its more than a game ; its a journey into the darkest corridors of fear, where any bit of progression forward is a victory against the unknown.

[healthsynergynow]

Health Synergy Now: Unlocking the Secrets to Optimal Well-being

In today's fast-paced world, where health challenges seem to come from every direction, the concept of "Health Synergy Now" offers a transformative approach to wellness. It is not simply about addressing one aspect of health but understanding how various factors work together to create a balanced, vibrant life. By exploring the synergy between physical, mental, emotional, and even social aspects of health, we can create an ecosystem that promotes well-being in its truest sense.

This article will delve into what "Health Synergy Now" truly means, the benefits of achieving synergy in your health, and how you can implement actionable strategies to reach and maintain peak health.

What is Health Synergy?

At its core, health synergy refers to the harmonious interaction of different systems and components of well-being. This idea is grounded in the belief that every part of our health is interconnected, meaning when one area thrives, it can lift other areas as well. For example, physical health is deeply tied to mental wellness, and emotional balance can significantly impact both.

When we talk about "Health Synergy Now," we're discussing the importance of addressing health holistically and immediately, taking proactive steps to integrate different elements of wellness so that they complement one another. It's about moving away from siloed approaches to healthcare (where one area of health is treated in isolation) and embracing a more comprehensive, interconnected strategy that fosters balance and sustainability.

The Importance of a Synergistic Approach

A synergistic approach to health recognizes that no single solution can solve every problem. For example, improving your diet alone may not be enough to relieve stress if your mental health is being neglected. Likewise, exercise, while essential, may not lead to optimum results if you are not sleeping well. The beauty of health synergy is that it allows you to tackle health issues from multiple angles simultaneously, amplifying the benefits.

Health synergy also helps us understand that prevention is as important as treatment. By focusing on the integration of health-promoting behaviors—such as good nutrition, regular physical activity, emotional self-care, and fostering positive relationships—you reduce the risk of chronic diseases while enhancing overall quality of life.

How to Achieve Health Synergy Now

1. Nutrition: The Foundation of Physical and Mental Wellness

Nutrition is arguably the cornerstone of health. The food you eat provides the building blocks for everything, from your immune system to your mental clarity. Achieving synergy through nutrition means incorporating a balanced diet rich in whole foods that nourish the body and mind.

Balance Macronutrients: Consuming the right ratio of carbohydrates, proteins, and fats helps support everything from muscle function to brain performance.

Micronutrient Diversity: Ensuring you're getting a variety of vitamins and minerals (such as vitamin D, magnesium, and omega-3 fatty acids) can enhance cognitive function and immune health.

Mind-Gut Connection: Recent studies highlight how gut health is intimately connected to mental health. A healthy gut microbiome can improve mood, decrease anxiety, and even support cognitive function.

Actionable Tip: Start by incorporating more whole, unprocessed foods into your diet, particularly vegetables, fruits, and lean proteins. Avoid refined sugars and highly processed foods, which can disrupt this synergy by causing inflammation and oxidative stress.

2. Exercise: The Catalyst for Physical and Emotional Synergy

Exercise is an integral part of health synergy. Regular physical activity benefits not just the body but also the mind. It's well-documented that exercise helps improve mood, reduces stress, and enhances sleep quality—all of which have far-reaching effects on other aspects of health.

Cardiovascular Health: Activities like running, swimming, or even brisk walking help improve heart health and circulation, reducing the risk of chronic illnesses like hypertension and diabetes.

Mental Clarity: Physical exercise increases the flow of blood to the brain, boosting cognitive function, focus, and memory. Regular exercise has also been linked to the prevention of mental decline as we age.

Stress Reduction: Exercise releases endorphins, chemicals in the brain that act as natural painkillers and mood elevators. These hormones reduce stress and anxiety, contributing to emotional stability.

Actionable Tip: Aim for at least 30 minutes of moderate physical activity most days of the week. Mix up your routine with a combination of cardiovascular exercises, strength training, and flexibility workouts (like yoga) to promote full-body synergy.

3. Sleep: The Unsung Hero of Health Synergy

Quality sleep is often overlooked, but it's crucial for both physical and mental health. Sleep deprivation can impair cognitive function, lower immune defense, and even affect emotional stability. Conversely, restorative sleep has profound effects on how we feel, think, and function daily.

Physical Recovery: During deep sleep, your body goes into repair mode, healing muscles, consolidating memory, and releasing hormones that regulate growth and appetite.

Cognitive Health: Adequate sleep improves attention, problem-solving abilities, and memory. It also helps clear toxins from the brain, potentially reducing the risk of neurodegenerative diseases.

Emotional Balance: Sleep influences emotional regulation, reducing irritability and improving our ability to cope with stress.

Actionable Tip: To promote better sleep, establish a regular sleep schedule, avoid caffeine and electronic screens before bed, and create a calming bedtime routine to wind down from the day.

4. Emotional Health: The Glue That Holds Synergy Together

Emotional health is a critical component of overall well-being, yet it’s often overshadowed by physical health. Emotional stress, if left unchecked, can disrupt everything from your sleep to your immune system. Achieving emotional balance is key to fostering health synergy.

Mindfulness Practices: Techniques like meditation, deep breathing exercises, and journaling can help center your emotions, reducing stress and promoting relaxation.

Positive Relationships: Social connections are vital for emotional health. Engaging in meaningful relationships with friends, family, or a community can provide emotional support and reduce feelings of isolation.

Emotional Intelligence: Developing emotional intelligence allows you to navigate complex emotions more effectively, improving both your personal and professional life.

Actionable Tip: Incorporate daily mindfulness exercises such as 5-10 minutes of meditation or journaling. Make time to connect with loved ones regularly, whether through phone calls, face-to-face meetings, or virtual chats.

5. Mental Health: The Driver of Long-Term Wellness

Mental health is a critical pillar of health synergy and cannot be ignored. It has a direct influence on physical health, emotional well-being, and even relationships. Poor mental health can lead to a cascade of negative outcomes, including chronic stress, weakened immunity, and poor life satisfaction.

Cognitive Behavioral Strategies: Techniques such as Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) help reframe negative thinking patterns, improve emotional regulation, and promote a positive outlook on life.

Mental Resilience: Building resilience helps individuals better manage life's challenges, minimizing the impact of stress and enhancing long-term mental health.

Continuous Learning: Engaging in intellectually stimulating activities—such as reading, solving puzzles, or learning new skills—helps maintain brain health and promotes cognitive longevity.

Actionable Tip: Prioritize your mental health by making time for self-care. Whether it’s therapy, mindfulness practices, or simple hobbies, find what works for you and make it a consistent part of your routine.

6. Social Health: The Often-Neglected Component of Synergy

While much of the focus in health conversations revolves around physical and mental well-being, social health is an equally important factor. Humans are inherently social creatures, and strong social bonds have been shown to improve everything from emotional resilience to longevity.

Community Engagement: Being part of a supportive community—whether it’s through work, a hobby group, or volunteering—can provide emotional support and a sense of purpose.

Relationship Building: Developing strong, positive relationships helps reduce stress, increases happiness, and promotes long-term mental health.

Work-Life Balance: Finding harmony between work obligations and personal life is essential for maintaining social health. Overworking can strain relationships, while making time for meaningful connections enhances well-being.

Actionable Tip: Take steps to foster social connections, whether through making new friends, nurturing existing relationships, or participating in community events. Social connections often lead to improved mental and emotional health, amplifying overall health synergy.

The Science Behind Health Synergy

Several studies support the idea that a holistic approach to health is far more effective than tackling issues in isolation. For instance, research has shown that individuals who maintain balanced nutrition, regular exercise, adequate sleep, and strong social connections live longer and experience fewer chronic diseases than those who do not. Additionally, integrating mental health care into routine wellness practices significantly improves outcomes for those dealing with anxiety, depression, and other mental health conditions.

This scientific backing makes it clear that health synergy is not just a trendy buzzword but a vital strategy for promoting well-being in a comprehensive, sustainable way.

Final Thoughts: Why Health Synergy Now Matters

"Health Synergy Now" emphasizes the urgency of implementing a synergistic approach to well-being. In a world where stress, poor diet, sedentary lifestyles, and social isolation are increasingly common, taking immediate steps to improve your overall health is more critical than ever. By understanding that physical, mental, emotional, and social health are all interconnected, you can take a proactive approach to nurturing every aspect of your well-being.

This holistic, integrated approach is the key to unlocking the secrets of long-term wellness. Whether it’s through balanced nutrition, consistent exercise, quality sleep, emotional self-care, or meaningful social interactions, fostering health synergy ensures that each part of your health enhances the others—creating a balanced, harmonious life.

Actionable Tip: Start by assessing your current health habits and identify areas where you can make improvements. Then, implement small changes consistently. The path to health synergy doesn't require drastic overnight transformations; rather, it’s about making ongoing, thoughtful adjustments that eventually lead to a better, more synergistic life.

[itsnothingofinterest]

Can we discuss the recent uptick in dismissal of the League’s sociological issues and goals? Because I am lately seeing a lot of talk about how the League aren’t “Social Justice Warriors”, and that their societal angles are getting dropped for good in favour of their individual traumas; which is weird when society is the root cause of their traumas and, in turn, their villainous activity.

It’s not even that these readers are wrong in their assessment of them or anything; it’s not like the League are trying to change minds here, and it would be very polite indeed to call their activity “direct action”. It’s just the complete dismissal of their ambitions and the genuine good that could come from them that has to be weighed against the damage they do. Especially when the claim gets added in that the League doesn’t even actually care about this stuff anyway; that’s how they expect it’ll get dropped so easily.

Toga wants to change the world into one where she doesn’t need to fear for her life because of the way she was born. This is purely selfishly motivated, and that others like her may benefit from this change is incidental to her. But because it’s selfishly motivated in her own survival; we know Toga cares about this very much and won’t just drop it. And those people like her will benefit regardless, and will be less likely to become villains like her if she gets her way; which is why it shouldn’t just be dropped.

And pretty much all of the League are like that. Like, I’ve seen it said all all the League are doing is “pointless destruction” but that’s simply not true. Whether it be hero accountability, oppressive use of force, quirk prejudiced, general corruption in the industry, or all of the above + the promotion of the bystander effect; the League all have something they’re fighting for that's getting dismissed here. And while this is incidental to them, they’re also fighting for a reduction in future crime & villainy too.

But back to the societal issues being the root causes of all their villainy: You can’t just drop that and hope to properly resolve the story [1]. Someone’s gotta be the social justice warrior to get the mess that started all this fixed, and if it’s not the League, then who’s it gonna be? You might be tempted to say the kids; but it won’t be the kids with that attitude, ‘cause they don’t care.

Like, I think these readers are expecting that all this societal stuff (y’know, all the hard parts) will just get solved off screen by the kids in an epilogue; like we’ll get a text box saying Uraraka or Shinsou opened a program to end prejudice against villainous quirks. But...they just don’t care. Shoto, the student who has thought the most about his past hardships, has never thought once that there could be other heroes abusing their families like Endeavor, and the only thing he’s ever felt the need to do about Endeavor is not grow up to be like Endeavor. Compare to Dabi who, for all his self-destructive tendencies and selfish motives, exposed his father’s abuse and told society to think more critically.

The students simply lack the incentive or interest to handle the League’s problems. Leave this to them and I’m afraid they will quarter-ass it in a way that does nothing to prevent another Himiko, another Tenko, another Dabi from forming another League. Nor the 3rd League after that. Or even a 4th. Fact is; the villains are the only ones who do care, that’s exactly why guys like me keep pushing for them to pursue societal change.

Now, Class 1A could grow to care. They’re good kids after all, I’m sure most would love to help if only they knew too and knew how. The problem comes in that they would need to learn of these issues from people who care, but as mentioned, the only ones who already care & they can learn to care from are the League. And that necessitates approaching them from their systemic angles, not not dropping them in favour of their individual angles. If Deku approaches Tomura just as an abuse victims of Kotaro & AFO, if Shoto just approaches Dabi as a Todoroki family problem with daddy issues, if Ochako just approaches Toga as...the blood thing I guess[2]; they will not spontaneously learn to care about these things after the fact. So again, you can’t just drop these plots.

But maybe I’m being to harsh. Maybe all this, these expectations that they be the ones to fix hero society, are unfair to put on the kids to begin with.

Yes they don’t want to change anything, but it’s not their job too. They aren’t social justice warriors either, they’re cops. None of their arcs are about change either; for each one of them it’s always about the kind of hero they want to be. Shoto wants to be a hero to put people at east, Uraraka want to be a hero to save heroes, Deku wants to be All Might++. And each culminates in one individual they each want to save to prove they are that hero. None of their stories are about changing society the way the League’s are, so it could be that their role simply isn’t changing things so much as it is keeping casualties among civilians & villains alike to a minimum in the process.

But that being us back to our original question: who’s role is it to change things then? Well again, the only ones trying right now are the League; and it’s been shown that being sufficiently opposed to the status quo is one way to end up a villain anyway. And if it is the villains who are meant to promote this change; well you see why I’m rooting for them to stay villains and pursue this change until they bring it about, as opposed to hoping for the quickest & easiest route to redemption & a happy ending for them specifically. Someone’s gotta make the change happen. And if it’s not the League, they’re still the only ones who can get the ball rolling anyway.

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

[1] well you can, but we typically refer to that as an unsatisfying ending.

[2] Toga’s real problem is her thinking the heroes want her dead, but I don’t know how you’d fix that without addressing society’s treatment of villains and villainous quirks, despite that being exactly what people are expecting. What, is Ochako just supposed to speak for the whole legal system and say she won’t die?

[consumeconstantly]

Those Who Are Kind

1| 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 (you are here) | next

Summary: Siblings are the last thing on Marinette’s mind as she begins her frantic search for Tikki. Really, she can’t even consider them siblings, not yet. But they’re along for the ride, whether she wants them to be or not.

Duke doesn’t know what to make of the current situation.

He’s always known that the Waynes are crazy, insane, even, but he loves them all the same, in the begrudging, cautious way he cannot shake. (This approach has served him well over the years, allowing him to avoid multiple schemes that Tim or Jason typically start up to rile up Damian. From there, everything is guaranteed to snowball. The only time things get really bad is when Cass gets involved.) To him, it’s always been a bit uncanny how similar all the brothers looked, despite the fact that none of them shared blood. All of them had the same sharp jaw, piercing blue eyes, chiselled cheekbones and defined bodies. Only Tim and Damian differed slightly, with Tim having a dancer’s figure instead of that of a body builder or demolitions expert, and Damian having green eyes instead of blue. It’s also disconcerting that everybody the Waynes are more intimately involved with have some sort of alter ego. He often joked with other members of the Justice League that heroism ran in Bruce’s blood.

With the new addition of Marinette to their family, he has to say that he’s been proven right.

A girl who had absolutely nothing to do with the Waynes in any capacity other than the fact that she and Bruce share blood becoming a hero. The leader of a team. Fighting supervillains at the age of thirteen.

He’s very, very glad that he was not adopted by or shared blood with Bruce. He doesn’t think he could have handled being a superhero at age thirteen. He can barely handle being Signal now some days, and he’s an adult. The amount of responsibility on Marinette’s shoulders is difficult to understand. To be the sole wielder of magic that can revert an entire city back to its original state. To bring people back from the dead. 

Dick is strangely quiet. A car is driving them from a pit stop near a zeta tube to Marinette’s hospital. 

Hands down, Dick is the most sane male of the Wayne family, not including Alfred. But there are times when Duke sees the weight that he carries. All the times that he refuses to talk about the burdens that he bears. Moving forward with a smile when he’s in pain. When he gets in a mood like this, he’s hard to read. But given the circumstances, it’s fairly clear exactly what’s bothering him. 

“He’s known about her this entire time,” Dick says, tinted windows allowing Duke a glance at his expression, carefully devoid of any telling emotions. “Nineteen years. He kept her a secret.”

“It’s Bruce.” The man is known for keeping secrets. 

“Yeah, but Marinette is family. She should have been, at least. And now…”

Now she’s all alone when she should be surrounded by people that love her, praising her for her victory, for how she shouldered so much responsibility at such a young age. But by bringing her to a hospital in America, she’s been cut off from her team, and any support system she should have had is gone. 

“You and her,” Duke says, looking for a way to comfort him. “You’ll get along. You’re similar, after all.” After they brought Gabriel and Lila to the a top security prison and sent Emilie to a hospital that couldn’t figure out what was wrong with her, they got two files from Tim. One detailing Ladybug and all of her exploits. The second, detailing Marinette’s life. 

Duke has watched the videos. Has watched how Ladybug leads by example, comes up with the plan and begins the execution. How she shoulders more battles than she should. 

He’s seen Marinette pull people together with a smile on her face, even while she’s running on empty after a strenuous akuma attack. 

Dick and Marinette are alike. 

“We’re too much alike,” Dick says. “I suspected for a long time that Bruce had another kid that he wasn’t telling us about, but I thought that if he was keeping her away from us, then maybe she’d have a shot at leading a good life. A normal life. Not the one she got. Sabine’s— Bruce’s biological daughter shouldn’t be somebody like me. She deserves better.”

Duke is acutely aware that Dick’s parents were also murdered, but whatever relation he had with Sabine is something he’s never been willing to talk about. There are pictures in his apartment of a petite Asian woman with a soft smile standing next to him, but whenever asked about her, Dick never gives a straight answer. 

“Nobody has the ability to change the past.” Duke claps a hand on his friend’s shoulder. He sags imperceptibly under the weight. 

Well— actually, it’s not out of the realm of possibilities, given the fact that magic, aliens, and metahumans all coexisted, supplemented by the fact that multiple members of Marinette’s team do have the ability to travel back in time, but that’s another matter entirely. There’s not a lot of information on the Miraculous, and all of their knowledge is coming from Wonder Woman, Aquaman, and Zatara, and even the three of them don’t know everything. 

“But you have the chance to do good by her. Be a good older brother, like I know you are.”

A thin smile appears on Dick’s face. “She’s going to need more than just one good influence on her life. And Damian is better, but you saw how he looked at her when Bruce brought her through the Zeta tubes. Tim’s not going to react well either, and Jason is a wild card. She’s not going to get the support she needs if she stays with us.”

Duke crosses his arms, knees brushing up against the back of the car seat. “The only person whose actions you’re responsible for are your own. Don’t worry about them. If they don’t like her, they’ll just avoid her.”

That’s certainly not true— all of the members of the Wayne family are notorious for going hard after all of the things they don’t like. But... it’s comforting to hear. Sometimes temporary and known lies are much nicer than harsh realities.

#

She’s gone.

All of her belongings are missing, the IV needle is hanging from the stand, the window open, and Marinette is missing from her bed.

At least she left a note?

Be back soon — Marinette

“Great,” Duke mutters under his breath. “Another incredibly vague, cryptic Wayne.”

Dick’s face turns to ash. “Her legs. Her head. She can’t go out so soon. Hold on, maybe Barbara can pull up some footage.”

“On the bright side, there’s no blood,” Duke says. 

“That’s not a bright side.”

“It is,” Duke argues. “She fell in the worst places possible, right on top of that broken glass casket. If she’s not bleeding that clearly means she didn’t pull her stitches on her mad escape out.”

When Ladybug fell, they’re not exactly sure what happened, because the screen showed Ladybug collapsing almost gracefully. When they arrived on the scene, she flickered between Ladybug and Marinette as her earrings beeped. Her legs were slashed from falling on the glass with a seemingly unnatural force— simply falling would not have garnered cuts that large— and her head was twisted at an odd angle, debris bloodied beneath her.

Somehow, the Miraculous Cure seemed to be working backwards. Not from the epicenter out, but rather from the edge of the damage, in. It worked slowly, every mile taking minutes instead of mere seconds. It hadn’t happened before in any of the battles.

It was useful in apprehending Hawkmoth and Pavona, who were still knocked out. But Marinette, even after the Miraculous Cure washed over her, didn’t get healed. Her injuries didn’t revert. There was still a gash on her stomach from Hawkmoth’s cane, still muscles exposed on the back of her legs and blood on her neck. When she was first brought in, the doctors feared that she may be permanently incapacitated. 

Good at keeping to her word at least. She came swinging through the window with worry on her face and grief in her eyes. 

“I need to go back to Paris,” she says. 

Dick will undoubtedly say no. He’s a very protective person, and Marinette is the center of his current efforts. 

But she doesn’t look injured. He eyes her stance. She’s standing with no effort, walks with no limp. No hospital dress, no blood on her neck, no bruises in all of the places he was expecting them to be. Marinette does not look like she just faced a world ending threat less than twenty four hours ago. She certainly doesn’t look like she’s permanently lost the use of her legs. There’s the familiar Wayne Brand Stubbornness in her eyes— no way she’s not Bruce’s kid— that tells him that she’s going to get to Paris one way or another, and that they’re either lucky they were even notified in the first place or that she wants to use a resource that they have that she does not have access to. It’s fairly obvious what that resource is, considering that Paris is nine hours away by any normal plane and it sounds like she wants to get there in minutes, and not hours. Duke also knows that if they don’t take what she’s offering now, she’ll use an alternative method that definitely won’t be as nice or clear cut. 

He jumps in before Dick can say anything. “We’ll take you as long as we go with you every step of the way.”

Oh, he’s going to get in so much trouble for doing this. Dick is looking at him with his Disapproving Dad glare, and he can imagine Bruce going into brooding silence when he hears that Duke allowed this to happen. 

Marinette’s lips pinch together, but she nods. “Where’s the nearest zeta tube?”

#

Barbara gets Dick’s text and sighs in frustration.

She’s already got her hands full with watching Tim, who’s spiralling trying to find information about the Miraculous, muttering under his breath in the way he does when he gets a particularly hard case to crack. He’s gone through six cups of coffee in the last hour, and he kicked off his research with a combination of 5 Hour Energy, Monster, three packets of sugar, and 10 caffeine shots. Soon, she’ll have to start limiting his caffeine intake, but right now it’s clear that any attempt to get him to stop his research now will fail spectacularly. At least she’s not in charge of Damian and Jason. Wherever they are, they’re definitely on the move and not happy.

She never thought she'd be able to say she’s happy about being paralyzed from the waist down, but she certainly doesn’t want to be chasing after one of the two hellions. Cass definitely has her hands full and whoever’s watching Jason— wait, is anybody even watching Jason? Typically Roy gets stuck with Jason-sitting duty, but he’s been out for a while. 

Barbara groans. Jason is probably on his own, wreaking havoc.

Great.

She’ll deal with that later, even though she has no doubt she’ll regret that decision, but if Marinette is gone from her room, Dick needs the footage, and somebody needs to find where she is. The nurse put in her latest report that her legs were almost healed and that she didn’t show any signs of a concussion, but Marinette was in bad shape when she got admitted to the hospital. Even though Barbara doubts that there was any misdiagnosis, given that Bruce sprung for a VIP room in one of the pricier hospitals, in a world where magic and aliens are present, who knows what’s true or not.

“Tibet!” Tim jumps up from his hunched over position for the first time in hours. “I’m going to Tibet, the closest zeta tubes are three hours by car away, but I can get somebody to loan Wayne Industries a helicopter while I’m over there.”

“Sit down, Tim.” Barbara takes her glasses off and pinches the bridge of her nose. Why can’t Bruce rein in his children? Why is she the one stuck babysitting? “Marinette left her hospital room.”

That certainly gets Tim to put the brakes on his movements towards the zeta tube in the bat cave. 

“What?”

“I said, she left her hospital room. Just sit down while I send the information over. It’s not going to do you any good to rush into things anyways.”

A quick review of the surrounding CCTV shows that Marinette didn’t travel far, just around the hospital. She’s looking for something, calling out for it, too. Barbara grabs that file and slows it down so she can read her lips. “Dickie? Do she and Dick know each other already?”

A quick text back to Dick reveals that Marinette has already returned to the room and—

Oh, hell. 

“Well,” Barbara pushes her laptop away from her, letting Tim watch the files she’s pulled up. “It looks like we’re taking a family trip to Paris.”

#

Somehow, Marinette almost manages to lose all four of them within the first four minutes of roaming around Paris.

Luckily, their family has an almost absurd amount of luck between all of them (not all of it good) and the person Barbara was half sure she could only find in prison, beating up Hawkmoth and Pavona, runs into Marinette on the streets and herds her back to them.

“Lose something?” Jason asks, arm slung around Marinette’s shoulder, the smaller, younger girl looking rather upset at having her plans thrown off.

“I told them that they could follow me,” Marinette argues without much real bite. It’s not my fault if they can’t keep up, is the clear meaning of her statement.

Again, Barbara is very impressed that the barely nineteen year old somehow managed to shake off vigilantes with decades of experience with ease. But it is, at least, partially due to her disability. Every time she goes out in her wheelchair, her heart aches a little, especially as the civilians she passes eye her with pity. Barbara doesn’t want pity. Doesn’t need pity. She shouldn’t feel anything when people look at her like she can’t keep up, because she can keep up.

Most of the time, anyways.

It doesn’t matter how she uses her tech skills to modify her wheelchair and deck it out with all the equipment she could ever need, or that she can easily get up to speeds rivalling sports cars for short periods of time before the power runs out. When she’s stuck in her wheelchair, she loses the maneuverability she had when she wasn’t paralyzed.

She couldn’t follow Marinette through the alleyways because she was stuck. Barbara was the one who noticed her escape first. If only she were more capable, she could have—

But it’s okay now. Jason ran into her. Marinette is back with them. 

“I need to search for something, and none of you can help.” She’s not intentionally being rude when she says it, and if anything, sounds apologetic. Barbara sees the similarities between Marinette and Bruce. It makes a lot of sense that the two of them are father and daughter, when the two of them are so insistent on keeping major issues to themselves. Marinette twists herself out from underneath Jason’s arm, clutching her purse. Her head doesn’t move, but her eyes are wild. 

“We can help,” soothes Duke, ever the voice of reason. “You know who we are.”

“And I’m guessing you’ve all either deduced who I am or have been told my identity,” counters Marinette. “Which means you should know why I can’t have you helping me.”

Barbara and Duke exchange pointed glances. 

“That’s not really clear to us, actually,” says Barbara. Marinette isn’t moving, but the way her shoulders tense makes her believe that the younger girl is ready to run at the drop of a hat. 

A small group of people from the parade on the streets tumbles into the alleyway they’re resting in. They smell like cheap booze and sweat. 

“What are all of you doing in this alley?” one says, after he finished vomiting up his last (very colorful) meal. “You should be out there partying with the rest of us! Celebrating Ladybug and her team.”

“Fuck Hawkmoth and Pavona,” says another solemnly, with neon face paint and pigtails with glitter string intertwined. “Their defeat should be celebrated by even the darkest souls.”

Jason, easily amused by their antics, looks very willing to join them. “Yeah Marinette, we should be celebrating Ladybug not—”

As one, everybody looks at the place where Marinette was, just moments ago. The alley is decidedly empty of a small asian girl with blue eyes and pigtails.

“Fuck,” Jason curses.

“Fuck is right,” Duke agrees, placing a hand over his temple. 

#

Marinette manages to disappear for three hours.

Three full hours.

“She’s good,” Tim says, typing into the holographic computer embedded into his sleeve. 

Paris’ CCTVs are painfully easy to hack into, though he suspects that the lack of attention to them may have to do with the fact that everybody in the city is celebrating. Policemen, politicians, artists, students, scientists—  people from all walks of life are in the streets today, screaming and shouting and being free for the first time in years.

He spies more than just a few dozen people bawling their eyes out within a few minutes. But that’s not surprising, considering how long Parisians have had to suppress their emotions for. 

Dick and Barbara are still in the midst of profiling Marinette, trying to determine the most likely places where she’d stop by, either as Ladybug or herself. All of Ladybug’s usual haunts are decidedly devoid of the young heroine, though Tim does manage to catch a good amount of footage of the other young heroes like Carapace and Rena Rouge, who are most definitely in a relationship based on their makeout session on top of the eiffel tower (one of the first places Tim checked), Viperion, who seems to be the only one from Ladybug’s team to be seeking out the crowd which seems rather atypical considering that the hero never frequented interviews or was spotted on news coverage all that frequently,  and Chat Noir and Queen Bee who Jason insisted were in a relationship as well, though the rest of them believed they were only embracing each other out of comfort— Chat Noir looks like he’s been crying for hours, and Queen Bee looks like she’s barely holding it together.

Ryuko has not shown up on camera once today. Neither has Ladybug.

The second place Tim checks is the bakery. She is not there either, though another girl is. It doesn’t seem like the girl has any ill intent, but Duke is more than happy to pull up past files to see if she’s been there before, if she has any reason to be there, and who exactly she is. 

Just as Barbara and Dick are debating the chances that Marinette would be at Le Grande Paris, she walks past one of the cameras focused on Tom & Sabine’s Boulangerie. Tim has the system rigged up so that any facial matches for Marinette automatically alerts the room. He hadn’t been able to replicate that with Ladybug’s face for some bizarre reason which is why he, Barbara, Dick, and Jason are manually combing through the areas where Dick and Barbar think she may be (magic is why, but Tim has always believed that technology can be used against and with most forms of magic) so it’s lucky that she enters as Marinette. 

“Kagami Tsurugi,” Duke says triumphantly. “She visited often when Tom and Sabine were still alive. Potential candidate to represent France or Japan for Sabre in the next Olympics. Definitely friends with Marinette.”

“Thank God,” sighs Dick. “Now let’s get over there.”

It’s truly, truly unfortunate that they set up shop quite a distance away from the bakery.

They take too long to arrive.

#

Perhaps it was a mistake, telling Kagami first.

No, not just perhaps. It was a mistake. A bad one.

But Kagami was pushing so hard, and Marinette was so tired and so alone without Tikki at her side, without the knowledge that her parents would be waiting for her. Kagami pushed and pushed and pushed about why the house felt so empty, why there was dust on the floor, why the bakery was closed for so long, and where were Tom and Sabine? Why weren’t they there for the team yesterday, when the battle was won, when they knew how important it was to be there for Adrien who had just lost all three of his parental figures? 

The moment the words fall from Marinette's lips, she knows she shouldn’t have revealed it at that moment, because Kagami draws in on herself, lips turning downwards, hands curling into fists. 

Kagami has come a long way from the girl she was in lycèe. The thrill of victory is still something she enjoys, but not something she needs to feel secure in her place in the world. She has trouble expressing her emotions, but when it comes down to it, she communicates everything necessary to understand why. 

With the news of Tom and Sabine’s death, she withdraws into herself, shifts back into that thirteen year old Marinette first met. Logic  and rationale thrown to the wind in favor of cold anger. 

It’s no secret that Ryuko, Ladybug, and Viperion are the main strategists of their team. Viperion, out of his duty of using Second Chance and his ability to keep a level head in the face of constant death. Ladybug out of necessity as her position as team leader and the power of Lucky Charm. Theoretically, the two of them should have been enough. But over the years, Kagami became Marinette's favored confidante; though Ladybug trusts all of her team to keep a tight hold on any information she gives them, Kagami is one of the few who is able to pick apart a given situation and transform the monsters they face into manageable pieces. 

Today, it is Kagami who has broken to pieces. Very angry, razor sharp shards that seek to hurt.

“You lie to the media, tell them a pretty tale of how they died due to a break in. Why do you avoid pinning their deaths on Lila as you should? To absolve a quality woman from guilt?”

Marinette can’t look Kagami in the eyes.

Her parents deserved a peaceful death. To pass on in old age, hand in hand. Not looking on as a family member died, in fear of what would happen next for their daughter. 

“The police know. The judges know,” Marinette protests weakly, but without much eight behind her words.

Kagami just scoffs. “Tom and Sabine were kind people. To not tell the media what truly happened— that’s preventing Lila from getting the full force of what’s coming to her. What happens if she gets out of prison one day? Without any real deaths to her name, she could just flee to another country to escape it all. And when another person loses their life because of her…” 

She doesn’t need to finish her sentence. If somebody else gets injured in any way, shape or form at the hands of Lila Rossi, it’s Marinette’s fault. Marinette gets what Kagami is trying to say. She thinks the same thing, after all.

“My parents would not want their death publicized in that manner.” It’s the truth, but it’s said so weakly that the words come off as little more than a weak defense, and Kagami takes the words and twists their truth.

“You know little of your parents, considering that you’re their daughter.” Kagami stands stock still, not a single extra muscle moving. “Perhaps if you spent more time with them as Marinette instead of unsuccessfully gallivanting around as Ladybug, you’d have realized that Tom and Sabine admire truth above all else, even if it is painful.”

Kagami does not ask a single question about where Marinette was last night, or how Marinette felt over the loss of her parents or when she saw all those she held dear lying still on the ground after Hawkmoth and Pavona’s final attacks. She just purses her lips and sweeps out the door.

And then she’s gone, and Marinette is alone once more. 

#

The bakery is bone-achingly quiet.

Every step Marinette takes creates such a disturbance in the peace that moving hurts. 

But she can’t stay here. She can’t stay here. She does not deserve to stay here. Kagami is right. Marinette was a bad daughter. She could have prevented their death, could have given them justice sooner, could have— 

And Marinette can’t breathe. She tries to, she tries so hard to, but she chokes.

She kneels down on the floor— Kagami is right again, the place is dusty, because Marinette couldn’t bring herself to use the living room and kitchen without her parents, could barely bring herself to sleep in her bedroom because she knew that her parents were not sleeping soundly in the bed below hers— and scrabbles at her throat, vision coming in and out.

Her legs burn. She knows that during the final battle, her legs were cut towards the end of it, and they should be healed, she should be okay now, she’s better than this, she’s— 

Somebody gathers her in their arms. They smell slightly of Lotus flowers, just like Maman, and cradle her ever so gently.

Marinette’s eyes open— black hair, greyish eyes filled with understanding and love and— 

She can breathe again.

She falls asleep.

#

“Cass?” Dick’s eyes widen at her unexpected appearance at Marinette’s home.

“I thought you were on Damian guard duty,” Barbara says, fixating on the red around Marinette’s eyes and the barely dried tear tracks on her face.

“Where’s that Kagami girl?” Jason scuffs his shoes on the hardware floor, silently marking the footprints on the floor and getting a general idea of what occurred before they were able to get here based on Marinette’s current state and the other girl’s absence. “I want to have some words with her.”

Cass inclines her head sharply, eye sparking with anger. Jason’s fists rise unconsciously— Cass rarely gets angry, and whenever she gets angry at a specific person, that means they’ve done something very, very wrong— ready to hunt down Kagami. Marinette sniffles and shifts in Cass’ one armed embrace, to which Cass places a finger over her lip and shakes her head, a universal sign to be quiet.

 Jason scowls but settles down.

They’re quiet as they wait for Marinette to wake.

@biodad-bruce-month

Maribat tag list(to be added onto this pls send me an ask/dm): @our-precipreciousss @my-dear-friend-anxiety

Who Are You (and what will you become) tag list (to be added here just comment): @anjuschiffer @theunquiet-dead @certainmuffinbagelcalzone @cresentmo0n @allulily @myazael @zalladane @rebecarojas07 @keepingupwiththemalfoys  @frieddonutsweets @all-mights-asscheeks @thornalchemist23 @trippingovermyfeet @jiso-lee @redscarlet95 @ira-sairain @screechingflapbiscuitpeach @ramos123 @cutechip @theunquiet-dead @sleep-deprived-aroace @enternalempires @lilkymilky @woe-is-me0 @officiallydarkgeek @miyla-lokidottir @queencommonsense @demonicbusiness @iamablinkmarvelarmy 

@emark7 (i will have the edited version of these on ao3 eventually but i think the link to ch 1 on this one works)

where i ended this doesn’t feel very good but ehhhhhhhhhh my writing process is summary then word vomit that barely correlates which means nothing makes sense unless i edit but looking back at my work makes me cringe so at a crossroads yayyy

also can you guys tell which prompts ive written these for because i’m curious

[seventeenlovesthree]

Digimon Adventure subtext analysis: The family angle (Part I)

When talking about the Dark Master’s Arc of Digimon Adventure, which is considered the darkest, most mature arc, it is often brought up how parts hint at possible Yamato/Sora/Takeru family foreshadowing in terms of how all three of them interact with each other. This deserves an elaborate post of its own.

Interestingly enough, there is also a parallel hinting at another family trio - and while there is obviously no canon confirmation on this, it’s still fun to look at the implications here. It may not even be fully read as “family” angle, but simply as character bonding, but I still noticed a certain familiarity in the way Taichi, Hikari and Koushirou were set up in these episodes. (Part II, Part III)

After returning to the Digital World, we see several changes of mood and motivation in different characters - from Mimi’s desire not to fight and see beloved Digimon die anymore to Yamato’s journey to finding his true self and his personal meaning of friendship. Taichi’s arc mainly revolves around him worrying about Hikari - and about the way it leads to very self destructive tendencies. Hikari’s role is less that of having an arc and more being a foil for his behaviour, although she does have vital moments. After reconciling with his parents and somewhat coming to terms with himself, Koushirou doesn’t have an arc of his own here besides the usual “figuring things out and driving the plot forward”. However, there is one line in particular that sets up a whole new purpose for him:

“At this rate, our feelings of unity will scatter. I have to do something.”

Even if the translation may not be 100% accurate here, it’s still meaningful, because his main role in this arc is being Taichi’s (or generally the Yagami siblings’) support system. Or rather - attempting to be one, because Taichi doesn’t always let him. However, his motivations are clearly communicated in this line. Which is an interesting development in general and mirrors Sora’s efforts in keeping the mood up throughout the entirety of Adventure. It’s not typical for him to be emotionally supportive on purpose - and some of his actions probably weren’t even intended to raise the mood, but simply to progress further, but in the following episode, he manages to cheer Taichi up by telling him that WarGreymon’s attack might be the key to defeat MetalSeadramon AND he also makes sure to give Hikari a meaningful role in helping them escape. That may have been the first instance of him actively approaching Hikari by himself and it’s rather obvious that Hikari is very pleased to be able to help. Which is a role Koushirou used to struggle with himself, questioning his own usefulness to the others (and easily got reassured by Taichi asking him to figure out the card riddle to open the gate to the real world). It’s kind and endearing and thus he already successfully did something to raise the mood.

In later scenes it’s noticable that he’s portrayed as the most observant of Hikari’s odd behaviour among the Chosen Children - as curiosity strikes again without killing the cat this time. He pays attention to what she does and says - and also uses that in favour of encouraging Taichi again. The last scene shows them contemplating whether or not they should all enter Pinocchimon’s house together - Taichi is already showing symptoms of his “I’m gonna do this alone” behaviour here, intending to go on his own, but Takeru opposes this. Hikari agrees with Takeru, but Taichi still hesitates - which immediately leads to Koushirou raising his hand AND voice to explain why he agrees with Taichi’s sister (specifically her, not Takeru): He doesn’t want them to be scared. It’s a very simple line, but it still means a lot when you think about how contemplative Taichi was before, hesitating and making his choices wisely, still thinking about “what Yamato would do”, since Yamato told him how reckless he was before. And whether intended or not, Koushirou affirms Hikari while also encouraging Taichi by acting like this. 

At this point, Koushirou doesn’t even know yet what it is that bothers Taichi the most about everything. But he will know eventually - and he’ll be the only one, which I will analyze in a second post. 

It’s just generally fascinating how the character, who went through his own kind of identity crisis in terms of belonging and was eventually reassured to be perfectly fine and loved the way he is by his parents, suddenly becomes such a vital part in reassuring other characters like this. Sora and Yamato could have been likely choices instead - Sora, because she generally cares about Taichi and Yamato, because they share the sibling angle. However, Yamato is going through his own turmoil at this point, questioning his own ability of being needed and a good big brother - and Taichi never even remotely hinted towards him that they went through a similar kind of self doubt. Sora is set up to keep up the positivity for as long as possible until she eventually breaks herself. Thus, Koushirou is chosen to be the link that builds up interest and care towards Hikari while also being the person Taichi opens up to the most (to be continued).

[thirty-five-owls]

Does this make sense or does it sound stupid

I see a lot of fans talk about Matt Murdock as a lawyer, a vigilante, a devout Catholic, but I think another really interesting angle is Matt Murdock as a sociologist and I can't believe I haven't been able to find anything on it.

I don't even know where to begin with this conversation because first of all I haven't read all the DD comics and second I'm not a sociologist and I have barely stepped into the doors of sociology. So I feel like I don't understand what I'm talking about. But if anyone has been exposed to the fundamental philosophy and theories behind sociology, which is an umbrella term that encompasses criminology, law, and justice, then I think suddenly you can empathize a lot with Daredevil's worldview.

It's not just about the acts of upholding justice in a court of law as an law practitioner, which certainly has its own charm and appeal, and I'm sure enthusiasts have talked and dissected this aspect of DD in depth, but the precursor to learning about the justice system is learning theories of sociology.

It's like the first time you realize you're beginning to understand the way this world has been functioning around you, how the structures were built by people long ago, and how the logic behind the structure came into being, and along with that, the flaws of its construction and how these flaws are now impacting, systematically and institutionally, every individual life at the same time.

In my opinion, no other subject you learn will quite achieve the same effect as sociology. It talks about such a large, omnipotent scale that is so deeply flawed in so many ways, these titans of social machinery sludging gargantuan bodies across the land that is filled with ordinary struggling people, and you learn about the policy makers' biases, limitations of their time, structures that are implemented during a period filled with ignorance and hate and people doing their best, and now the society is up and running and it's too late to revamp it without completely wiping the board clean and starting over and now we have such a huge fucking mess on our hands.

What do you do with this information? What do you do when you start to learn about the systemic injustices that created criminals? And what about the lives that the criminals destroyed? Who are we going to blame? The fact that it didn't just happen to this one individual, but it is happening currently to millions of ordinary people, people from our past, in our present, and stretching into the future, these systemic failures and institutional biases that are so massive in scale that you feel powerless and helpless against them?

And then you suddenly understand why he had to become a vigilante, he does it because he's a sociologist and he sees the bigger picture behind every individual criminal. They need to be held responsible for their crimes, but the society has failed them. This must be a thought that crosses every sociologists' mind: if I could help them I would. It's about upholding the accountability of someone who broke the law and hurt another living being while at the same time understanding that their lives were manipulated to fail by a deeply flawed societal structure, and the key is to balance the understanding of the causation and the delivery of justice. And as someone who studies the society by trade, his faith lies with the system, sociologists have to believe (but maybe I'm wrong) that the fundamental structure of the system works, it will work if we fix the human factors that introduced flaws into it.

It's like the way good scientists and medical doctors approach the world, by doing as much help as they can while minimizing as much damage as possible; sociologists are scientists too. DD simply had to become a vigilante, because he had the ability to do so, he had faith in the system and he understood profoundly its structural flaws. He witnesses the crimes as they happen, every night he listens to the city in pain, to a sociologist it elicits more than just anger or empathy after witnessing a random act of injustice, it's a deep sadness and tiredness that you get after learning about the root cause of suffering, after understanding exactly why things are the way they are, which is a mess, and now you know just exactly how impossible it would be to undertake the task of social change.

So then, he hears an individual in crisis outside his window, it would almost be unethical if he didn't act on it. (And then the guilt and the repentance that came afterwards are a result of his devout Catholicism which is like a whole different thing) But I really think every good sociologist would become the Daredevil if they had the ability to do so. Because if you were made to understand how different factions and levels of our society are fitted together to systematically create crimes, then you would understand exactly why it's so crucial for the Daredevil to give people second chances. It would almost be unethical if he didn't do so.

[misterewrites]

Cheers from Newton Haven ( Mirror’s Edge)

Hey everyone E here with a surprising amount original works. haha so you can blame my good friend @hains-mae for this because she enabled me. So long story short I love writing. I love creating ideas, story plots, characters all that jazz. Often there's a lot of leftovers that i put away in word document just so I have stuff to work with or ideas i can use later. Most of the time I might write something just to get it out of my system but it usually just ends up gathering dust in my computer.

I've been getting more into modern urban fantasy stories and watching the unsleeping city which is a modern dnd show (highly recommend it. first season's free on youtube over at the dimension 20 channel) and naturally I wanted to write some so here we go.

I don't know how often I'll be writing this because this accidentally became my side project whenever I need a break from the underground but who knows might turn into another big layered project.

so basic summary is there are a group of friends, associates, reluctant allies, organizations and frenemies who work together to keep the peace of the supernatural world in check and to ensure it remains secret to everyone else while living their lives as best as they can. Today's chapter includes Finnrick Drift a private investigator wizard and his best friend Casey Remington, cleric of the hearth

that's it for me. have a great week! stay safe, take care of each other. wear your mask, wash your hands, get the vaccine if you can and I'll see you soon!

and if you wanna an easier place to read and leave me some good old comments or reviews you find the chapter right here https://archiveofourown.org/works/30599756/chapters/75486005

Not gonna lie i promised I’d try to promote myself more and it’s weird. it feels so weird. haha 

It was a busy Friday afternoon in Midtown. People in designer named suits and dresses bustled across the sidewalks in all directions, too caught up in last minute phone calls or sudden late night work orders to notice anything else. The buildings that scraped the bottom of the sky were clean with a fresh coat of paint and maintenance, a testimony to the wealth and power that was found here.

So naturally Casey felt as out of place as fish out of water in his purple baseball jersey and black shorts just standing outside some fancy restaurants doors with his friend.

“Finny” Casey started awkwardly, his sea green eyes darting back and forth awkwardly “Any reason we’re out here being creepy? I got a Neighborhood Watch meeting at like 6.”

Finnrick or Finny as Casey referred to him, was no better dress than he was for the environment. A long black trench coat that was more stitching than fabric, a matching frayed faded fedora sitting comfortably on his head. He wore a nice collared dark red shirt tucked in a black vest but even that felt cheap and tacky compared to the thousands of dollars worth of clothing that passed them on the street every second. At least his black dress pants were dark enough to hide the patch up jobs and naturally the only kept squeaky clean were his loafers.

Finnrick sucked on the thin white stick for a moment before speaking up “I’m debating if it’s worth the trouble. I didn’t realize you had a meeting tonight.”

“Well we always meet up on the fifth. You know talking about treaties, clean up jobs, if any undead hordes have been spotted. My birthday cake.”

“Ah shit” Finnrick rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, his dark brown eyes apologetic “It’s your birthday? Did you want to go? I think I can handle it alone.”

Casey lifted the hat off Finnrick’s head and playfully ruffled his already messy black hair “You getting old Finny. My birthday is the tenth.”

Finnrick waved off his assault “I’m six months younger than you.”

“But” Casey gestured to the smattering of sliver streaks in Finn’s hair “You look older.”

“At least I don’t look like I’m 15. Dude you need a haircut. Everyone here thinks you’re a hippie.”

“A good looking hippie.” Casey gave a dramatic shake, his wavy dark brown hair flowing in the breeze.

The pair burst out laughing, doubling over trying to catch their breath as the business suits eyed them distastefully.

“Alright, let’s get this over with.” Finnrick made his way over, smiles and charm as they approached the doorman.

“Your cigarette sir.” The doorman spoke dully.

Finnrick pulled out the now finished lollipop “Don’t smoke but done anyway.”

The doorman gestured to the nearby trashcan but Finnrick opt to tuck it away in coat pocket. Disgusted but professional, the doorman gave strained smile as he allowed them entry into the building.

Casey nudged Finnrick curiously “Wizards? Warlocks? God not druids.”

“Probably. This is guy doesn’t have an ounce of magic in him but I wouldn’t doubt he’s got some casters on the payroll. Try not to leave anything behind.”

“I’m a freaking walking carpet here!”

“That” Finnrick grinned playfully “Is why you need haircut.”

Casey gave a fake snarl “Shut up and call the elevator.”

Finnrick whistled, amused by the near silence of the opening doors “Such fance. Barely a sound.”

“So what’s the plan?”

Finnrick scratched the little bush of hair he had on his chin thoughtfully “Ask some questions. Probably get no answers. Be threatened more than likely.

Casey cracked the tension in his neck “Think it’s gonna get ugly?”

“Depends on how many witnesses.”

The two made their way to the seventh floor, the elevator smoothly slowing to a stop before the doors opened with a ding. Two burly men in suits were waiting, flanked on either side as they gestured to an empty restaurant dining room.

“The boss will like to speak to you.”

Finnrick and Casey shared a look.

“Sure!” Finnrick beamed cheerfully, patting both the brutes arms as he passed “I was hoping to talk to him anyway.”

The men growled in annoyance but did nothing as Casey and Finnrick made their way to the center talk, unsurprised to find two glasses of wine waiting for them.

“After you” Finnrick joked, pulling out Casey’s chair for him.

Casey gave a mocking smile “Such a gentleman.”

“Only one I bet” Finnrick whispered before taking his seat.

Casey could hear the low hissing of whatever spells were on their chairs being dispelled.

Yep there was going to be trouble.

Casey eyed the room carefully in search for options: The room itself was pretty dark, dark reddish walls with dim lights to set the mood. Most of the tables had been left alone for whatever event this room was scheduled for later with the chairs stacked in the corner. A few feet to their left was the bar, unmanned but well stocked and a window to the outside nearby.

“Well, well, well!” A voice called out from some shadowy part of the room “Who do I have the pleasure of meeting this fine Friday afternoon?”

Finnrick rose to his feet, politely motioning to himself and Casey “My name is Fredrick and this is my friend Charles.”

The man’s hazel eyes shone with suspicion “No last names?”

“Of course” Finnrick grin “But there’s no need for friends, right? We are friends Robert?”

Robert paused, a barely contained rage shimmering just under the surface. His slicked back graying hair and tailored perfect dark blue suit were signs of a precise, irrational control. This was a man that was never told what to do and considered himself above everyone and anyone.

“Of course.” He answered a moment too late. He was not happy. “Of course. What are polite manners among friends?”

“Thanks Bobby!” Finnrick gave a friendly wink before retaking his seat.

Robert fumed but followed Finnrick’s example as a trio of secret service wannabes took their spots across the room: Inhumanly beautiful men with dark suits and shades. Something was off about them but Casey couldn’t put his finger on it.

“What do I owe the pleasure Freddy?” Robert sneered, hoping to see how Finnrick a taste of his own medicine.

“Well Bobby.” Finnrick went on, purposely ignoring the older man’s jab “As you know you have been stealing countless money from your employees.”

Robert chuckled darkly “I am afraid wherever you have been getting this claim is very misinformed. I am a simple, honest businessman.”

Finnrick nodded in agreement “Of course. Of course. That’s how you can say that with a straight face. Honest businessman of mundane practices.”

Casey felt his hair on his arm stand on end as the atmosphere in the room tensed. The brutes growled unhappily, the trio of bodyguards shifted uneasily and Robert’s eyes shone with understanding.

“I see.” He spoke simply “You’re from the other side.”

“Naturally.” Finnrick confirmed “No need to peer around the bush, is there?”

“No need at all. It is refreshing for such transparency. You don’t get that often in the world of business.”

“I doubt you give much either Mister Walker.”

“Enough games. What are you doing here? Some kind of union rep for magical freaks? Blackmailing me?”

Finnrick sat up with pride “Private investigator. Building a case against you actually.”

Robert carefully studied both men before him, trying to piece together their plan, their angle.

“Either.” He spoke after a few moments “You have all you need or more than likely you have nothing and you are simply here to smoke me out, hoping I will give you something to use against me.”

Casey felt Finnrick’s hand move underneath the table and a rush of chilly air brushed his leg.

Casey gave a quick nod to let Finn know he understood.

Finnrick cleared his throat “You’re aware of the works of Tolkien Mister Walker?”

Robert was caught off guard “What?”

“Elves.” Finnrick answered with a calming voice “Elves are the most famous of his characters that aren’t humans of course but there’s more: Elves, dwarves...”

“Hob…” Robert began but Finnrick cut him off.

“That’s a legal matter but yes. Wonderfully fantastic creatures.”

Robert narrowed his eyes “And?”

Finnrick leaned in close, smile mocking and cold “I hate when people take advantage of them.”

Robert was a cold, calculating heartless man who was used to being the smartest one in the room. The one who rigged the playing field in his favor, held every ace in his hand and led his prey exactly where he wanted them to be. He played with people before he destroyed their hope. He was the apex predator in the world of business.

It was satisfying to see that swagger and pride drain out of his face.

The businessman went for the button hidden underneath his side of the table, no doubt the switch to trigger the holding spells on Casey and Finnrick’s chairs. Of course Finnrick had dispelled them first chance he got and since the only other caster in the room was Casey, no one else noticed.

Robert’s face was the second most beautiful thing Casey had ever seen (first being Jaime but there was no need to tell her that). The panic, the fear, the utter confusion. Just poetic justice at its finest.

Finnrick shot to his feet with a surprising speed given his unremarkable build. He muttered the words of power, a magical incantation as his hand made the proper gestures to complete the spell.

The shades squad went for their weapons but Finnrick had gotten the drop on all of them. He pulled his hand back, a burning flame sitting peacefully in his palm. He pitched the flame forward, lobbing directly at the closet goon. The inhumanly beautiful man rose his arms to defend himself in time. The flame, mostly pressurized air, splashed over him harmlessly as the force of the attack shoved him back into the wall.

Casey followed Finn’s example. He stood as well (not as quick as his friend), a soft gentle light glowing from his hands. He glanced at the two remaining shades and aimed directly for them. A bolt of pure light burst forth from his palms. One goon got a chest full of holy energy and skidded backwards but the other was ready. He leapt to the side and narrowly avoided the attack as he slid out of sight.

The brutes charged towards the pair, murder in their eyes. Finnrick barely spared them a look as he snapped his finger. The two flames sigils he had imprinted om them when he grabbed their arms ignited, twin fires eating at their sleeves and sending them into a panic.

“What’s the plan?” Casey shouted, sending more holy bolts towards the shades.

“Up and over the counter.” Finnrick answered, tossing another fireball.

Casey quickly made his way closer, prepping to leap over the bar when Finnrick crashed into him, a strange whistling sound piercing his ears one moment then silent the next.

“Over buddy over!” Finnrick repeated, grabbing Casey by the collar and heaving him ontop of the counter. Casey flailed for a moment before glancing backwards. Finnrick was right behind him, hand outstretched as a blue translucent field of protective magic hung before the two while the shades opened fire with crossbows, the jet black bolts barely visible in the dimness of the room. They bounced harmlessly off the barrier but Casey could see the cracks starting to form.

Casey hopped over the bar gracelessly, struggling for a moment before clearing the jump. Finnrick tucked himself backwards, allowing himself to roll over the counter top and land on the other side with a thud.

“Remember when elves were honorable?” Casey huffed, quickly scanning the various bottles.

Finnrick scoffed “They were never honorable. They just acted better than everyone.”

“Remember when we were kids?”

“Vaguely. Pass the absinthe. I want to really make this hurt.”

“Blue bottle? These are all in German and Russian.”

“Green liquid. Come on Case I taught you better.”

“Right. I miss when the cartoons used to tell us the mafia was honorable.”

“Criminals these days.” Finnrick shook his head disappointingly “Just don’t make them like they used to. It’s all corporate shit.”

Casey began picking other bottles at random, wrapping them tightly with the tape he brought “It’s disillusioning I tell you. How right is he?”

Finnrick smashed a pane of glass. He took the jagged edge and slowly inched it over the counter, catching sight of the trio of shades for a moment before a crossbow bolt shattered the glass.

He flexed his hand, trying to relax his muscles. They were elves alright. They might be dressed in suits and ears hidden by some sort of glamour illusion magic but old habits died hard. Elves habits never died given their long lives. The trio had fallen into a close knit triangle formation: one fires, one reloads with the last taking aim.

“He had this whole operation locked tight. No one was talking. Either bribed them or made an example of them. Broken bones or horns. I had enough evidence to implicate him but bringing him to trial in the mundy court was going to be pointless.”

Casey moved the bottles back and forth to ensure they wouldn’t come loose midair “So what are we doing here?”

“Given his limited knowledge and the numerous magical violations I counted in this building alone, I figured he’s not registered with the Council.”

Casey’s eyes lit up in understanding “Gotcha. How long we got?”

Finnrick shook his hand back and forth “I’d say 10 minutes knowing the Council. Magic in an unregistered area requires a subtler approach for them. “

Casey snorted “Fake beards and stilts for the gnomes you mean? Robert will be gone by then.”

Finnrick’s face scrunched in concentration “He’s still here. Cowering under the table. He’s not used to dangerous wizards up in his face. Let’s scare him put huh?”

Casey spared his friend a glance “Big shot?”

Finnrick nodded in agreement “Aim high Case.”

And with a synchronicity only achieved through years of friendship, the two stood up at once. Casey threw the makeshift bomb high into the air as Finnrick formed the magical shield once more. Arrow after arrow bounced harmlessly off its surface as the bottles sailed through the air. Finnrick focused directly in the center of the payload. The shield dropped but the elves had broken formation and were all reloading at once. Finnrick pinched his thumb and finger together, murmuring under his breath. A small spark of flame fluttered wildly on his finger. He flicked it as quickly as he could towards the bottles. The spark spun and twisted as it floated towards the payload. The spark expanded, growing in size, and intensity, rapidly without warning. The air warmed as the spark exploded, smashing the bottles and engulfing the alcohol within. Flaming liquid, glass and hot air shot out in every direction. The elves were blasted off their feet and crashed against the far wall with sickening series of crunches. The floor above now had a massive hole in it and the brutes sprawled across the floor. Robert himself was thrown onto the ground, ash and soot covering his face as he struggled to breath.

He tried to call for someone but his ears were ringing and everyone was down for the count. He tried to search for the trouble makers but the smoke that filled the room was too thick.

The elevator dinged open once more and three pale suits came scuttling out. They clung to the walls on all fours, unnatural and repulsive. Their blood red eyes shone in the dimly light room, their fangs barred and ready for blood.

“Vampires!” Casey rubbed his eyes tiredly “This fucker has vampires. Loose by the way.”

“Right?” Finnrick shook his head “There are just so many regulations being violated right now.”

The vampires did not care. They dropped to the floor, gliding effortlessly midst the smoke and flame.

Casey took a step closer to the encroaching undead. He outstretched one hand towards them while the other clasped his necklace tightly. The vampires tilted their head quizzically at the symbol that adored the chain: It was a house of all things, a simple shape of rectangles and triangles no different than what a child would draw.

The vampires chuckled, their eyes bright with hunger.

Of course in their bloodlust they had forgotten something important: It was not the symbol but the faith behind it that was their bane.

Casey held the symbol as high as he could. The vampire shrunk away from him as his eyes blazed with holy energy, the symbol of home glowing with a harsh light. The vampires barred their fangs as a symphony of noises overwhelmed their senses: the soft hum of an air conditioner, footsteps thundering about, the chill of winter, the heat of summer, the overlapping sounds of cars and buses as the roar of crowds boomed in their ears. The city, the hearth of so many people, filled this room for a moment.

The vampires drew back, white smoking curling off their charring flaky skins. They ducked back into the elevator, hiding in whatever corner they could manage until the doors shut with a satisfying ding.

“Come on” Finnrick gestured to the window “I don’t want to be written up for unauthorized magic in an unregistered area.”

Casey and Finnrick scampered to the window. Casey’s face turned a sickly green when he realized how high up they were.

“Ugh I don’t feel good.” his stomach churned queasily.

Finnrick broke the window with his elbow, the fresh smoggy air of the city bringing some color back into Casey’s cheeks “I know buddy but it’s only eight floors up.”

“I hate you so much right now.”

“Okay cool jump now!”

Robert regained enough sense to see the troublemakers leap out the window without hesitation. He struggled to his feet when flickers of something began to form. Before he knew what was going on, the previously empty room was now filled with various creatures: Elves, dwarves, a gnome on silts had appeared out of thin air. They weren’t dress in any ancient medieval garb but rather dark blue jackets, jeans and combat boots with the initials M.R.R.D stitched on their clothing. They were no different than any one on the street aside their more unique physical features.

“M.R.R.D!” the gnome cried out, brandishing a strange clockwork pistol “Everyone freeze! We sensed a magical disturbance and a violation of the Arcane Veil!”

Robert rose to his full height “I am Robert Walker and I…”

The gnome opened fire and Robert could feel exhaustion overtake him. Sleepiness began to ebb at his resolve and before he could mutter another word, he closed his eyes. A dreamless sleep until he woke up in a council prison cell a few hours later.

-----

Casey didn’t scream as he fell through the air. He was too busy trying to keep his lunch in his stomach.

Finnrick waited a moment to make sure everything was in place and with a wave of his hand, the two began to fall much slower. They landed on their feet as if they had taken a step off the sidewalk instead of several stories up.

Casey began hyperventilating, trying his best to get his stomach settled. Finnrick began fanning his face when a man walked up to him.

Casey and Finnrick said nothing, waiting for the Arcana Veil to fill in any blanks they were missing. They could’ve told this man anything but they found from experience that it was just easier to roll with whatever the magical blanket that separated the mundane world from the magical decided.

The man peered at them, his gaze unsure and confused.

“Hey, you guys okay?” he asked helpfully.

Casey and Finnrick remained silent.

His eyes glazed over for a moment, a strange shimmering sheen within his pupils telling the duo that the veil was in effect.

“You guys are oddly dressed for window washers.” the man chuckled.

Finnrick glanced back to find a ghostly image of an electrically operated scaffold behind them, water buckets and squeegees included.

They shared a look.

“Would you believe it’s national window washer day?” Casey filled in.

Finnrick added “Yeah, they let us wear whatever want today. It’s only one day out of the year anyway and most of the time we work by ourselves so no harm done.”

the man nodded like that was the most reasonable thing he had ever heard “Right sorry. I’ll just be on my way.”

Finnick and Casey ducked out of the alleyway behind him, heads low and nonchalant as the human M.R.R.D members began to shut down the restaurant from the outside.

“Well that sucked.”

“Just a little. Here let’s go some dinner on me.”

“Damn straight on you Finny. Brutes, elves, vampires?”

“Oh my.”

“Now I’m ordering extra bread for that.”

[americasass81]

Make Her Mine - Chapter Nine (End)

Warnings:- 18+, Dark theme, Smut, Dubious Consent, Non-Consensual Sex, Oral (female receiving), Swearing, Mention of Real People, Violence, Implied Character Death, Implied Breeding.  Do not read if any of these warnings are upsetting.  Feedback is welcomed.

This contains adult themes and by proceeding you are acknowledging that you are over 18 and are consenting to the content below the cut.

A/N:- So here we are at the end (finally🤣).  It’s been a really fun and interesting experience writing this series and I hope that all those who read it enjoyed it as much as I did writing it.  Thanks so much for joining me on this journey.

Word Count:- 2,903

Situating himself back between your legs, you feared passing out once again as Tony's mouth connected with your left ankle and began the slow, sensual trek towards your aching pussy.  Kissing, licking, biting and generally reintroducing your intimate area with every part of his lower face, including his goatee, you were quickly reminded just how much control this man possessed when your hips began writhing beneath him and wetness pooled in your panties, yet he simply switched legs and began again.  Cursing and whimpering beneath his highly skillful mouth, you now knew what sexual frustration felt like and knowing you couldn't take any more you reached out, and grabbing Tony by his hair yanked, hard.  "Stark, I vaguely recall a conversation where you promised I'd want for nothing.  Well right now all I want is to fucking come," and while he moved forwards to capture your lips with his, his hand reached out as his considerable strength pulled your panties from you.  Wanting to cry out at the sting this action left behind, you couldn't find it in you to care as you felt his shaft move slowly along your wet folds as his chin came to rest in the valley between your breasts.

"Darling, I'm offended that you think I'd leave you wanting," he said kissing your right mound, "waiting, possibly," he continued, now moving to your left mound, "but we both know I always deliver in the end," and you both groaned as you felt his considerable tip breach your flower.  Waiting patiently for the feeling of fullness to envelop you, you instead screamed out all the frustration of the past week, as Tony rested his considerable weight on your lower body and did nothing.

Now plastering sloppy wet kisses all over your tits while you tried everything to get his lower regions moving, you knew now you should have taken one of your cars and left your life behind when the iron avenger removed himself from your body and smirked down at you.  Holding you back with one hand as your fists came flying at him, your sex deprived brain would never figure out how he managed to use his other hand to free you of your last article of clothing.  As it was, snaking his mouth around your left nipple and biting gently was the only thing that brought you back to reality and knocked the fight out of you.  Moaning in ecstasy as he then soothed the skin before doing the same to the right, you now just hoped that his promise to deliver would soon be fulfilled.  Smiling down on you as the fight left you, Tony kissed you once more before heading back south.  "Ready to fall apart for me Y/N?" and when all you could do was mumble "yes" over and over and over again, he knew you were finally ready.

Finally placing his mouth over your intimate area, you dropped your body on the pillows as his tongue began to explore your sopping, aching folds.  Allowing his tongue to get reacquainted with your clit, he shoved a finger into your waiting heat and was disappointed when nothing happened.  Suspecting that a single digit would never again satisfy you, he proceeded to add another and this time was rewarded with a slight jerk from your hips.  Moving them steadily in and out as his mouth sent shockwaves radiating through your clit, you surprised him yet again when a third finger was added to your warm pussy.  Now giving voice to the pleasure thrumming throughout your entire system, Tony's curiosity got the better of him and pulling his mouth from your folds, proceeded to add a fourth finger while his thumb came to rest against your clit.

At last moaning out his name as your stretched hole easily accommodated his palm, Tony worked over your walls until the gasp that left your body informed him he had found your g-spot.  "Ah, there it is darling.  Just what I was looking for," and from there it was only a matter of time before he had you begging for release.  "Come on darling, come apart on my fingers like the good girl I know you can be." Tony coaxed, as your body no longer fought the hold he had over it and you cried out as you let go while your cum gushed out around his digits.  Falling forward to rest his exhausted body against your chest, Tony continued to work you through your orgasm and pepper your skin with soft kisses as his praises echoed in your ears.

Gazing down on you, his soaked hand left your pussy and approached your mouth at the same time his gracious plenty buried himself within you with one powerful thrust.  Moaning weakly with some fingers in your mouth, as was all they would allow, you continued to lick your arousal from his hand as his cock began the slow, steady pace of moving your body towards the edge once again.  Finally freeing his hand so his fingers and mouth could once again toy with your tits, his slow, powerful thrusts had your body crying out for something more.

"Oh fuck Tony, more please.  I need more.  Give me more." you begged between pants and as his gleaming eyes met yours, the smirk gracing his features, told you that a good hard fucking was not on the menu today.  Turning you over onto your stomach and raising your hips, this new angle allowed him to sink deeper into your welcoming heat, but his pace remained stubbornly tender as his lips began dotting your shoulders with equally soft kisses.  Feeling your resolve and hatred for him growing weaker and weaker the more his lips and shaft worked their magic, you thought the whimpers he pushed from you would somehow force him to take pity on you.  As it was, he continued with the task at hand until your walls began to tighten around him, at which point he pulled out, lay down on his back and placed your trembling body over his soaking rod.

"Ride me darling.  Take everything you need." he said as he pulled you down onto him while his hips thrust forward.  "I want to see your face as you give yourself to me."

Afraid that your decision now would negate some of Tony's culpability regarding all his previous actions, your body stalled momentarily as you tried to think if you really could go through with this.  Watching one of the most powerful men in the world, gazing up at you with lust and some other unknown look in his eyes, however your mind lost the battle with your body as your hips began to move against him while your hands used his chest to ground you.  Remembering back to the last time you had him in this position, your sex addled brain now only cared about what you could get out of him, and so throwing caution to the wind, you removed his hands from your hips and proceeded to bounce yourself faster and harder on his cock, until your walls firmly clenched around him, his cum shot out all over pussy and your orgasm flowed through you to the point where Tony's groin was completely soaked.

Finally spent and completely satisfied, you fell forward onto his heaving chest while his arms encircled your trembling body.  Kissing you tenderly while your breathing returned to normal, you snuggled deeper into his chest, until a deep chuckle broke through the sex haze currently pulling you off towards sleepy town.  "Don't fall asleep on me just yet Y/N, we gotta clean you up." he stated before lifting both of you from the bed and walking you into the shower.

Impressed by his strength, the whining protests escaping your mouth told him that despite your sleepy expression you still wanted more, but thankfully his will proved stronger.  Washing both of you quickly and thoroughly before you had a chance to get all frisky again, Tony then dried you gently before helping you back to bed where a soft mattress and warm body dragged you down to a sleep that made you feel like you were floating away.

                    *************

Waking utterly refreshed the next morning and starting up where you left off, now that you and Tony had reached an understanding, things began to change in ways you didn't expect.  Allowing you access to the kitchen since he knew how much you loved to cook, Tony never once suspected the treachery you were still secretly harboring.  Getting to have more frequent phone conversations with Sabrina was also an added perk, but the unseen progress made elsewhere in the coming week and a half was the real icing on the cake.

Having slowly let his guard down and become more open with you, back in New York, Steve had managed to use some Wakandan technology procured by Bucky to finally use their conversations and Sabrina's with you to accurately pinpoint your location.  Discussing now the monumental task of actually separating you from the powerful avenger, a casual conversation with the other Avengers about a missing Stark employee that no one had actually reported missing confirmed Steve's suspicions that the New York mob was now his only source of backup.

Having finally settled on a plan, Steve knew that ordinary humans, no matter how tough however, would need something more powerful to stand against Earth's Mightiest Heroes.  Heading back to the compound, Steve cautiously cleaned out his rooms and then walking away from the life he knew, simply because it was as always the right thing to do, made a call to Wakanda for some advanced weaponry to help even things up.  Then driving off to the cabin he now shared with Bucky, who was currently visiting Shuri for work on his new arm, all he had to do now was hope you hung on long enough for them to draw Tony away from you.

                    *************

Back at the crypt things had settled into a comfortable routine of meals, movies, watching Tony work in the lab and fucking like rabbits whenever and wherever the mood hit.  Fearing the consequences, your calls to Sabrina kept you focused on keeping Tony off guard however, and not two weeks after this whole ordeal had started came the unexpected opportunity you had all been hoping and praying for.

Having at last been left alone thanks to Iron-Man's skills being needed somewhere you couldn't remember Tony mentioning, you smiled triumphantly that the latest little development had finally allowed you a modicum of control in Tony's absence.  Making your way throughout the house, a voice in the back of your mind told you to get some shit together and you were thankful you listened when not fifteen minutes later, a loud explosion told you that someone or something had breached the crypt's defences.

Wondering why V.I.R.G.I.L. had failed to respond or even warn you of a possible attack, you wished now more than ever that you had your weapons or the suit Tony promised you, when a certain and familiar star-spangled Avenger appeared before you.  Standing frozen in place until he explained that Sabrina had sent him, you quickly trusted your gut and grabbing your bag followed him back to the main entrance.  Looking at the mess he had made of the place, you stopped suddenly as your eyes latched onto the door leading to Tony's lab.

Turning around when you were no longer behind him, Steve followed your feet as they led you towards the room that held your go-bag.  Reaching out to grab your arm, Steve urged you to get moving but you told him you weren't leaving without what was yours.  Leading him towards the place you now knew the safe to be hidden, he used his shield and considerable strength to quickly work it open and allow you access to your prize.  Seizing the bag and now following the Captain from the place that recently held you captive, you instinctively looked towards the sky half expecting a red and gold suit to drop on this location.

Hearing Steve hollar at you to get a move on, you threw your bags into the waiting car and quickly joined Captain America as he sped through the forest, leading you away from the nightmare you had known.  Driving quickly while trying not to draw any undue attention, Steve couldn't help gazing over at you from time to time as you apprehensively waited for the nanoparticles to shock your system once more.  Not knowing that an undisclosed issue had caused this feature to be permanently disabled, you didn't breathe properly until Steve pulled off the main road and headed towards what looked like an unused car park.

Pulling into what actually turned out to be an old abandoned building site somewhere off the beaten track, you pulled out the burner phone Steve handed you and called Sebastian who told you to stay put while he and his soldiers came to get you both.  Finally having some time to let the events of the past hour sink in, Steve quickly placed his arms around your shoulders as you bent over and emptied the contents of your stomach onto the ground.  Thanking him as your system settled down and he led you back to the passenger seat, you prayed the mob would reach you before your fallen angel figured out what had happened.

                   *************

Waking up some time later in the same location, the darkening sky was the least of your worries.  On a partially built rooftop with weapons you could only assume came from Steve, Scarlett and Jeremy did their best to provide aerial cover to Sebastian, Brie, Anthony and Chris while Steve worked tirelessly to bring down as many of his former teammates as possible.  Wanting so badly to fight alongside them, but feeling another wave of nausea hit you as you were about to move, you couldn't hide the shriek that left your throat as Steve launched a badly shattered Vision across the front of the car.

Witnessing firsthand the brutality that both sides were capable of, you wondered why they were willing to go to such lengths over someone like you, but this thought was quickly forgotten as a red blast flashed by your window towards Sebastian only to be intercepted by Chris.  Falling to the ground as Cap unleashed his shield and Sebastian's forces let loose a hail of gunfire, you once more wondered where it all would end when an unseen blast shook the ground and caused everyone to drop to their knees.

Sitting in Steve's car watching the dust settle all around you, a cold panic filled you as Iron-Man, in all his glory, dropped out of the sky like some avenging angel.  Watching as you realized you alone had the power to stop this and what it would ultimately cost you, you looked out the window as Tony prepared to fire on Jeremy and Scarlett's locations before your eyes fell on Sebastian.  Knowing that everything he had told you was true and that your friends had run out of time, you exited the car and quickly went to stand before your iron captor.  "TONY ENOUGH, PLEASE!" you shouted, as you held out your hands.  "You win.  I know now my place is by your side, so let my friends go and take me home."

Looking at you while still keeping his weapons trained on the two mob soldiers, Sebastian and Steve took advantage of the lull in battle to come stand beside you.  "Y/N, think about what you're doing." Steve warned, placing a hand on your shoulder.

"I am Steve.  Look what's happened because of me." you stated, looking around the old property at the two worlds that held you in their grasp.  "Jeremy and Scarlett have god only knows what type of weapon trained on them, Brie and Rhodes need a hospital.  I don't know if anyone can help The Vision and Chris.  And let's be honest, you, Anthony and Sebastian don't stand a chance against Tony, Bruce and Wanda."

Nodding solemnly as he stared between you and the mob boss before glancing around the makeshift battlefield, this time it was Sebastian who broke the silence.  "Y/N, I promised Sabrina I'd bring you home.  Don't make me break my promise."

Raising your hand to wipe the blood from the gash above his left eye, you nodded at Tony to let him know you had accepted your fate before answering your best friend's husband.  "He can find me anywhere, Sebastian.  Look at the carnage already created without him even firing a weapon.  He won't hurt me, at least no more than I can handle, and hopefully when things settle down we can bury the hatchet and put this animosity behind us."

Wrapping your arms around both of their necks, you kissed Sebastian's cheek and then walked towards Iron-Man.  As he placed his arm around your waist and pulled you flush against his side, you held onto him before calling out to Sebastian.  "Tell Sabrina I love her and we'll see her soon."  With that you placed your arms around Tony's neck and launching both of you into the sky, he left the teams to clean up as he flew towards home with his family wrapped securely in his arms.

Tagging:- @nsfwsebbie @hoseokchild @gotnofucks @ironlady1993 @floatingdaisy7 @taintedgenre @buttercandy16 @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay , sorry if I missed anyone.

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Genji Heavy Industries (Part 5) Hell

In this part of the plot of the game and Novel several things are happening at once. The scene I felt was most relevant to our MC is the scene I picked. 

This scene is not in the game. Please enjoy.

Chu Zihang coughed low in his throat next to Caesar and that man’s killer’s aura subsided. You could finally breathe again. You weren’t upset with Chisei Gen and you had nothing against him. You barely knew him at all. Caesar Gattuso just had a bad habit of getting emotionally invested in every single person he came across and that’s why you were here, disguised as Hydra Executive Bureau members, helping Hydra move -- while at the same time, being surrounded by armed guards who would shoot you full of holes and ask questions of your corpse.

Chisei Gen was here with Masamune Tachibana and were talking in Japanese while observing the moving process. You keep your eyes low, maintaining that careful methodical pace that would make sure that you all got on the elevator with the fiftieth box so you could leave to escort that shipment and escape.. 

Caesar successfully got on the elevator and the operator yelled “HAI”. As the elevator descended, you caught the sharp flash of Caesar’s blue eyes, as though, with that look, he could slash the man’s throat.

Next was Chu Zihang. It would take ten more minutes of work for him to get on the elevator and Mingfei was getting a bit distracted. He was interested in what Chisei and Tachibana were talking about, being the only one who spoke Japanese. While reconnaissance could be handy, the survival of the team was more important. If you survived, you could come back. So you approach him where he is dawdling and lightly nudge him with your elbow..

Chu Zihang successfully boards the elevator. He gives you a two fingered salute as he descends down the shaft and disappears.

You’re next.

Working steadily, you pass by Lu Mingfei. “I want to say I’m sorry.” You murmur in a low voice. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you… and tried to hit you. That was wrong.”

Mingfei looks at you with a confused expression. “No… I messed up. I almost ruined everything.”

“I’ll explain later…”

“HEY YOU!”

 Both of your heads look in the direction of the voice. A man in a dark windbreaker was gazing directly at you! Your heart stills. He’s saying something in Japanese but you can’t understand.

“He’s telling you to put the box down and follow him. He has another assignment for you.” Mingfei is looking at you with a face full of tragedy. “Little Sister…” He whispers. “Please don’t die.”

You smile at him and take his hand and give it a squeeze. “It’s okay.”  You whisper and turn away to follow the man in the black windbreaker. You give a sharp bow in front of him. He presses a button on the elevator that you came in on, and it opens. He hands you a small brown paper bag and gestures that you should get in the elevator alone.

Your mind is racing. Caesar and Zihang were already gone and there was no way to get in touch with them. They would just wait for you expecting you to come down the elevator. Lu Mingfei would have to tell them what happened. Knowing Caesar, he wouldn’t leave the place without you and would probably search the building and continue to risk his life and everyone else’s lives! You had to find another way to get to them.

You turn around to face out of the elevator and don’t let your emotions show. Lu Mingfei is trying to work, but he’s pale, terrified and alone. You smile calmly at him as the door of the elevator closes.

From the moment the elevator door closed, the screen showing the floor you were on suddenly went out. The lights and the music in the elevator shut off. All the floor buttons were disabled, and the word "HELL" lit up in red above the door. 

Your heart rate jumps and you try to press the door open button but it’s too late! You’re already descending, and fast!

You try every button but nothing works! Finally, you look up through the ceiling. Just as you’re thinking about escaping through the top, the elevator slows, and the lights come back on.

The lights reflect off the bronze doors like a mirror. Behind your reflection is the fuzzy reflection of a human shaped shadow. You reach for your pistol extremely fast, but a strong grip takes hold of both your wrists.

With a mighty twist, the person in the reflection turns you around, shoves you against the elevator doors and presses his lips to yours in a passionate kiss!

Your muscles jump and you try to escape, but his scent fills your nose. You recognize his hair. You go from resisting him, to embracing him and pulling him closer.

Z. 

How did he get here? Where did he come from? You want to ask, but he doesn’t allow you to speak. He kisses you as your knees buckle and your back slides down to the elevator floor. When he finally lets you go, he smiles, watching you tremble filled with a strange tingling you don't understand. There is a satisfied glint in his golden eyes. “Good. I wanted to make sure I got to you before those other idiots did.”

You catch your breath for a moment. He was dressed smartly in a suit and patent leather shoes over his bare feet. A black serrated army knife was on his belt. He rested one hand over his bent knee, crouching in front of you. As always, that clever smile that hid an inside joke was on his delicate features. He really did look quite a bit like Lu Mingfei. But you decide Z is much more handsome. But you were alone when you got into the elevator. How did he get here?

“How do I know you're really here and this isn't a dream?” You ask.

His eyebrows raise. “Is this the type of dream you would have of me? You’ve grown up…”

You huff with amusement. “I’m serious. Lu Mingfei has proof of his guardian angel. I want one, too.”

His eyes travel the length of you and his smile fades. “I’m no guardian angel. But if it's proof you want...” He leans forward on his hands and nuzzles your neck tenderly. But then at that moment he bites down hard and you cry out in pain.

 When you touch where he bit you, your hands come back with a small streak of blood on them. Z licks his lips slightly. Your heart beats faster and you feel a bit dizzy. You’re drawn to him far more than any of the ‘idiots’ on your dating game show. “Z… I think I love you…”

He wrinkles his nose. “That’s because you don’t know any better. I’m always curious. How does a human know what exactly ‘love’ is? You could throw yourself body and soul at them and they reject you. Or you can bite them and they call it love. It’s silly.”

The elevator continues to descend and you don’t know how to answer him. “I just want to be with you.”

“Then just say that.”

“Where are we going?”

He smiles again, showing his teeth. “Hell.”

You roll your eyes. “I know, stupid. I mean in this elevator.”

He chuckles, a little birdlike.”Ke-ke-ke…” and again you delight in making him laugh. He sighs and settles next to you. You’d dropped your brown paper bag and he handed it to you again. “Here. It’s food. Eat it. You’re going to need it.”

Inside, is an apple and a small sandwich labeled “egg sando”. It was good and suddenly you feel your hunger roaring like a beast. As you devour the food, he reaches up and gently runs his fingers over your hair, much like you did to the little black kitten in Chizuru.

At the bottom of Genji Heavy Industries, deeper than the Iron Dome Shrine, in absolute darkness, a deep red "ならく" is lit up, which is an elevator light. 

The word "ならく" is an exotic word derived from the Buddhist scriptures. Naraka is the deepest part of hell, the infinite fall of the void. The evil spirits in Naraka can never return to the human world, but experience an eternal fall into a bottomless pit.

The elevator door opened. You and Z, two black shadows, walked into the darkness where no one could see. Except for the faint sound of the ventilation fan turning, there is only dead silence here. 

The wall ahead suddenly lit up. The giant wall seven or eight meters high emitted an eerie blue light. A closer look will reveal that it is actually a huge water storage tank. The wall is a glass made of hundreds of pieces of glass of about one square meter, between the glass is a narrow metal frame. Above the water storage tank, a several meters in diameter turbine and filter is installed. The volume of this storage tank is comparable to the giant fish tank in an oceanarium built to house manta rays and whale sharks. The general water supply pipeline simply can not provide enough water, so it takes water from the sewer. Sewage filtered into this storage tank, and then pumped away with the turbine when the water was changed, re-entering the Iron Dome Temple system. 

The two of you lie on the ground under the glass wall, the blue light illuminating your faces. Z’s posture is reclining upright on his elbow, like those Greek boys carved in alabaster in the Parthenon, from a certain side he looks rather feminine, but from your angle he looks handsome like a young god. You’re lying on your back, looking up at him, staring into those golden eyes.

“Someone once said that the aquarium is one of the top places to go on a date.” He said, stroking your hair.

“Is that what this is? Odd timing…” You murmur.

“Well, you are a very busy woman and many men are looking at you now. Caesar Gattuso jumped in the rain from the top floor of the dorm into a moving convertible to stake his claim. Am I supposed to wait until the mission is over for me to make my move?” 

He was right. For as much as the Takamagahara Star-Heart contest glorified looks, money, and pure carnal instincts, what pulled you to Z was the sense that he would stand over you and snarl like a lion. Once he had you, no one would be able to take you away.

“It’s just a show, Z. Are you being jealous?”

“I’m communicating… that’s what this is.” He pressed one finger to your forehead in an odd gesture. “Anyway, the date's over, we have work to do.”

You sit up. 

“Use your Soul Skills. We are at the deepest roots of the Heavy Industry Building down here. I need you to cause an earthquake for me. Go for Magnitude 7 or 8.’

You’re silent for a moment. LIke any high level skill, it required considerable amount of practice and skill to wield without causing enormous amounts of unnecessary damage and death. Chu Zihang’s Royal Flame could be wielded like him, in various ways, like pottery in his hands, but he could only control it so much. Without injuring himself and others.

S-Level Skills like yours not only could cause excessive levels of death and destruction, but also came with sequelae, side-effects to the user. In order to create a Magnitude 7 or 8 you would not escape these side effects. But you would do your best to minimize them.

You place your hands on the ground and focus, slowly working your spiritual energe through the floor, through the meter thick slab and down into the bedrock formed by millions of years of heat and pressure. As it goes, so does your mind. The ground becomes like a skin, and you can feel the rubble of the subway, and the rush of the fierce waters in the Iron Dome in a steady vibration. A golden color lights up your dark eyes like a the headlight of a motorcycle in a tunnel that eventually fills the space until its entirely glowing yellow. 

Z  peeled off a piece of gum and stuffed it into his mouth, facing this empty water storage bin. He was not anxious at all. The sound of rushing water came from the depths of the water storage bin. Some kind of large aquatic animal swam at high speed, leaving a series of swirls with its long tail. The boy fished out a laser pointer from his sleeve, and after opening it, a red laser dot appeared on the glass wall, which cat owners often use to amuse kittens. The boy slowly moved the laser pointer. The light drifted, and gradually attracted the attention of the aquatic animal. It swam closer and closer. There was not one, but a group of large fish. The big fish put their heads against the glass wall, staring at the red dot. 

Their faces were so pale, they looked like floating corpses that had been floating in the sea for dozens of days. 

The group of fish with human faces peered through the glass at the human world, some expressionless, others with mouths turned upward, seemingly smiling. 

They are not all the same. Most have long tails and scaly armor, some look like sphinxes with animal paws or have uncanny organs attached to them. Some have huge sharp claws and knife-like bony fins, and, when they breathe, the cracks at the base of their necks open up to reveal deep red, gill-like structures. 

The boy turned his wrist slightly. The sphinxes twisted their bodies delicately, chasing the dots of light and swimming fast, like a group of obedient pets. The entire tank stirred and a dark golden skeleton came up from the bottom of the tank. The shape of the skeleton was between human, fish and flying birds. It was obviously the same kind of sphinxes. It seemed that these sphinxes do not mind eating their own kind when they are very hungry, and the dark golden skeleton is covered with teeth marks, as if cut out with a logging axe. 

Z turned off the laser pointer and approached the glass wall. The sphinxes that had lost their chase scattered. 

The size of the tank is almost equivalent to a small underground lake in the rock formation. The filtered groundwater is still clear, but once the sphinx swims far away, it is no longer visible. Only a smaller one was left, swimming in the waters near the glass wall, still seemingly trying to find the mysterious spot of light. The boy pressed his palm against the glass wall, which was half a meter thick from the reflection of the glass, and was made of huge glass tiles. 

Your Soul Skill has reached depth. Earthquakes were typically created when two broken slabs of continental plates floated on currents of magma, collided, and pressed together until the pressure was too great and then they slipped. There were many such faults in Japan. The skill was to find the one that would create the right amount of slip in the right location, and at the right depth.

Forcing an earthquake was like forcing open a stuck door. You leaned into it, gradually increasing the pressure against it to force it to move. If the door was inclined to move anyway, it wouldn’t take much force and the slip wouldn’t be too great and the earthquake would be small. But to create a great earthquake was to reach the limits of your control. Only a well stuck plate could create something like that. You had to force great pressures on the plate and, when it finally moved, it was like a door swinging open uncontrollably. It would be easy to turn a 7.0 earthquake into an 8.5 earthquake by accident.

You could jostle Genji Heavy Industries… or you could destroy all of Tokyo, depending on results you could not predict. In order to best guess how to apply pressure you had to increase the spiritual roots in the ground to make sure you had maximum sensitivity. And therein lie the danger to you. It was like burying your mind into the ground, your brain. If you poured enough of your thoughts into the earth, then you couldn’t be aware of your surroundings. You might lose track of how much brainpower you have dedicated to the task and little by little, the ground would suck your mind dry of thoughts and Caesar would find you in the depths of Genji Heavy Industries, completely braindead.

The sphinx pressed its face against the glass wall to observe the boy's palm, and then its appearance became clearer and clearer. It is actually a female with long dark hair, a deathly pale but beautiful face, with faint traces of minimally invasive plastic surgery between the eyes and eyebrows. 

"You were beautiful," Z said softly, "when you were still alive." 

Pretty only in that face, the sphinx was deformed from the neck down, the lower half of its body fused into a python-like tail, the remnants of its feet vaguely visible. 

In the mythology of the world, this image of the sphinx repeatedly appears, from the ancestor of mankind, Fuxi Nuwa, to the Three Emperors, and  Five emperors of the Taihao. Emperor, "Zhuangzi" was seen by the Duke of Qi Huan in purple clothes wearing a vermilion crown shaped like a half man and half snake. In the "Shanhaijing" there are multiple mentions of a  "human face with a snake body and red, straight eyes.” The god of Zhong Shan, ZhiYin, the so-called "Naga" in Sanskrit, the so-called "Medusa" in Greek mythology, and even the group of snakes whose names have been lost in the Mayan pantheon ...... 

They are between gods and demons, symbolizing seduction and ultimate mystery. Mythologists still find it difficult to explain why such monsters appear so consistently in various myths. If they could take a look at this "beautiful" monster, they would understand that their ancestors had indeed witnessed similar things crawling, swimming or lunging in front of them. They were so hideous that they could never be a species that God would make, but only a joke played by the Devil on man. This impression was like a lightning bolt that exploded in the minds of the first people, and they passed it on from generation to generation as a myth. 

Z lit up the laser pointer, the point of light appeared in the heart of the forehead of the sphinx, like a bright vermilion mole. The sphinx's ghastly white face was suddenly lit up. If you didn't look at the ghastly lower half of the body, it could be described as charming. It stretched out its deformed claws to grab the red light in the glass wall, although its claws are hard, but only in the super-hard glass scratching out a toothsome sound. However, it couldn’t grasp the red dot! Suddenly, became furious, and issued an inaudible roar at the young man. Its huge mouth opened to reveal sharp teeth as dense as thorns. This is when you can clearly see it's horrible mouth structure. On each side of its delicate cherry lips is a barely discernible slit extending to the ear. When it opened its mouth as if the entire cranium opened! 

"You're getting ugly like this." Z said.

The sphinx's hiss lasted only a few seconds. The giant claws coming from behind dragged it back to the middle of the tank. 

Z extinguished his laser pointer and watched the killing in silence as a dozen sphinxes surrounded and killed the smaller of their kind. They bite down on their prey’s body parts, swinging their long tails wildly, using tremendous twisting force to tear the prey apart. The prey and predator together formed a strange fleshy flower, a demon flower with snake-like petals, each one twisting and swaying as red blood smoke rose to the water's surface. 

"How ugly, this world." Z said faintly, his face devoid of sorrow or joy. 

You finally make your choice and your eyes glow in the dark. You open your mouth and let out a loud moan, as though you were giving birth and push! You push harder and harder and your cries grow louder and louder!

A soft popping sound ran through the entire glass wall from top to bottom, the metal frame supporting them twisting and distorting rapidly. The feeding sphinxes also noticed the change in the glass wall and swam over, leaving their bloody food behind, as if the prisoners had heard the iron prison door slam and would have looked in the direction of the door in unison. Glass wall is shaking. First, a huge glass tile fell where water pressure topped out against the metal frame, then more glass tiles fell off. Each is a square meter square and half a meter thick. Pushed by the force of several tons of pressure,  water sprayed out through the gaps more than ten meters away.

Z produced a white silk handkerchief from his coat pocket and dabbed the sweat forming on your forehead with gentle touches, like a husband comforting his birthing wife. “You should protect yourself.” He says softly.

You grit your teeth and nod. A thick wave of soil and rock smashes through the meter thick slab and rolls over you both to form a barrier.

 A few seconds later this transparent wall completely collapsed and tens of thousands of tons of water broke through the dam, carrying an unknown number of sphinxes with it.

[fatehbaz]

Weird, eerie, uncanny ecology

--------------------------

Horror fictions are very much about ambiance, place, surroundings and environment. Sometimes this engagement with place, as in the work of China Mieville, involves the invention of new and weird topographies, while for other writers, the places described are known regions and even seemingly familiar locales. [...] It was the New England landscape, with its “vast and gloomy forests in whose perpetual twilight all terrors might well lurk” that gave birth to Edgar Allen Poe and Nathaniel Hawthorne (and surely also to Lovecraft [...]). Jeff VanderMeer openly admits the importance of the Quinta da Regaleira in Sintra, Portugal as well as the Saint Mark’s wildlife refuge in Florida as sources of inspiration. [...] The most strikingly original aspect of the best weird fiction’s expression of place is the ways in which it deforms or veers [...] our ordinary [...] ways of talking about the environment. [...] Strangely enough, though, [some] ecologically engaged critics have barely cast an eye towards this kind of writing. [...] This overlooks the functioning of explorations of place in horror. [...] Our world [is] weird, our reality horrifying. Living in the Anthropocene implies [...] that we are aware that the world has dimensions that exceed the grasp of our senses, [...] there are dimensions or depths to the real. [...] The genius of horror and the supernatural [...] is the acknowledgement of a gap between the real [existing autonomously outside of humans] and the Natural [translated and systematized by human sciences, cultural institutions]. [...]

If ecology is the study of organisms and their relations to their   environments -- relations between objects and the other objects composing places around them -- then being a realist ecologist is being sensitized to  that which not only is visible but which is also withdrawn or wholly other; that which is reality but also ungraspable within some naturalist accounts of the ambient world. [...] Re-encountering familiar scenes after having read horror is to see these scenes with heightened senses, with an awareness of straining for sight beyond sight. Thus the weird hardly leads us away from the places in which we dwell. On the contrary, it brings us back to them with x-ray attentiveness and extraordinary humility.

Brad Tabas. “Dark Places: Ecology, Place, and the Metaphysics of Horror Fiction.” Miranda. 2015.

--------------------

When would-be settlers arrive in a so-called new world land, they are disconcerted by the strangeness of what they find: impenetrable swamp-forests and unintelligible biodiversity [...]. In order to forge a future in such a land, settlers need to be able to master this space by seeing it as another kind of potential place -- “relational, rectangularised, beholden to agriculture” [...]. The transformative work of settlement involves reshaping the threatening, chaotic, destabilising and alien elements so that the place can be re-born as home: familiar, safe, controlled and controllable.[...] For this reason, settlers must also proceed by adopting an oblique angle of vision which enables them to see -- in their mind‘s eye -- their permanently situated homeland-to-be. [...] As the ecosphere in a settler place undergoes radical transformation [...] existing cultural landscapes become submerged under roads, buildings, farmlands, towns, cities and reserves [...].

In order to make their new homes in existing Indigenous homelands, settler populations induce ecological crisis by altering the environment, seeking to reproduce European geometries and ways of life. Settlers set about felling forests, draining swamps, diverting waterways and converting wetland plains to make way for pastureland and urbanisation; they divide the land into alienable parcels comprising differentated zones and categories [...] and they implace vast numbers of new plant and animal species, unleashing feral ecologies in the process. The organisms selected for introduction in so-called new world palces are those deemed “familiar,” “useful,” “missing,” and “missed” (McDowall) and they are intended to replace the “monstrous” creature that already populate these places [...]. Despite efforts to elongate or stretch it to fit over the place, short settler history is undone by longer Indigenous histories, revealing the doubleness or splitness of the place [...]. Anamorphosis, then, is profoundly a perspectival mode of settlement, and it accentuates the discontinuity, defamiliarisation and decomposition associated with founding a so-called new world place. It signals doubt and disturbance and it is not controllable as a trick of the artist’s trade or as a fashionable perversion or contrived effect or matter of cunning or virtuosity. Rather, it is a distortion that is experienced in intermittent and profoundly vertiginous ways by settler culture. For settler populations, the horror of settlement is to be returned to a state of freefall, with the solid ground of the settler endeavour shearing away or appearing to disappear.

In such moments, the settler nation emerges as a fantasy or absurdity or spectral “non-place”; cataclysm is revealed as a permanent half-state; settlement becomes disintegration.

Anna Boswell. “Anamorphic Ecology, or the Return of the Possum.” Transformations. 2018.

----------------------

It disturbs the very idea of what it means to be local, to be accustomed to and understand one’s environment. [...] The multifarious texture of home, or locality, is itself an abstraction. Morton writes that ‘The wet stuff falling on my head in Northern California in early 2011, could have been an effect of the tsunami churning up La Nina in the Pacific’, and heavy rain ‘simply a local manifestation of some vast entity that I’m unable directly to see’ (2010: 52). This vastly interconnected way of reading the environment intensifies dark ecology’s bid to render landscape and resources as systemic, complex, and in-process, as well as variously connected to human being. It also problematizes views of the environment that make it originary (how one might mischaracterise national parklands as ‘raw  nature’ for example, when in fact it has been changing and settling for many thousands of years), pristine (when in fact it includes much that is dirty and violent), or separate (when we are already breathing it, when it exists as much in our gut microbiome as it does in the protected Grand Canyon) [...]. No longer capable of the ‘man-in-space’ postmodernism of the 1980s, we are aware of ourselves now as deeply enmeshed in the processes we consume[...], resulting art forms attempt to approach flattening ontologies: local with universal, humans with objects, quark with mountain.

Danielle Barrios-O’Neill and Michael Collins. “At Home with the Weird.” Revenant. 2018.

-----------------------

For Fisher, the eerie is something altogether more abstract and strange than that of the weird in the way the eerie concerns itself with the presence or absence of something, and such places (or non-places) are often where there is an absence of humanity, or where there is something or some agency at work that is just beyond our realm of understanding: “The eerie concerns the most fundamental metaphysical questions one could pose, questions to do with existence and non-existence.” As such, the eerie “is constituted by a failure of absence or by a failure of presence. The sensation of the eerie occurs either when there is something present where there should be nothing, or is there nothing present when there should be something.” [...] On a material level, the eerie is often not located in the humanistic confines and locales of the family and home. Often, it is located in marginal spaces, in landscapes, sites, and structures where there is either a distinct lack of human presence, or there was once a human activity which has since disappeared. Various ruins, such as [...] ancient sites [...], to more modern locations such as abandoned buildings and houses underline several aspects to the eerie, as the failure of presence that is the absence of humanity almost certainly leads to various forms of speculation as to the source of said absence. [...] More importantly, Fisher asserts that the eerie turns on the issues of agency in the way that:

It is about the forces that govern our lives and the world […] In the case of the failure of absence, the question concerns the existence of agency as such. Is there a deliberative agent here at all? Are we being watched by an entity that has not yet revealed itself? In the case of the failure of presence, the question concerns the particular nature of the agent at work. We know that Stonehenge has been erected, so the questions of whether there was an agent behind its construction or not does not arise; what we have to reckon with are the traces of a departed agent  whose purposes are unknown. [...]

Non-places refer to capitalist and technological sites [...] that, while having a human presence through that of work or transit, are a-historical, non-relational and lack any definitive connections with their locale. Augé sites non-places as spaces of   transit or temporary waiting and congregation -- shopping malls, business parks and corporation “campuses”, motorways, roundabouts, carparks, and hotels – all places that give a semblance of seamless connectivity and ease of movement. From an architectural and organizational viewpoint however, non-places are considered sterile and affectless, exuding an overriding sameness [...]. Through their overriding spatial conformity, and the mechanical nature they invoke in the individual towards consumerism and social control, non-places invoke forms of eerie alienation upon the body in that they allow the individual to psychologically disconnect, to drift in an aesthetically impoverished landscape and the seeming absence of presence.

Bob Cluness. "I am an other and I always was…" On the Weird and Eerie in Contemporary and Digital Cultures. University of Iceland MA Thesis. 2019.

---------------------

Unlike the sublime, with its axiomatic relationship with nature and its place in a history of “the outdoors,” the uncanny is more readily associated with anti-natural concerns - degrees of deadness; animated corpses, ghosts, and artificial beings; dolls, automatons, and doubles. [...] Modern shopping malls that replicate identical layouts [...] right down to the pearly patina of the laminex on the bench-tops. The placelessness of trading zones is particularly insidious because of the recurrent [...] acts of consumption such spaces are styled to bring about. Generica: a neologism adapted to describe the urbanity of middle America, structure by the uniform architecture and visual parroting of Wal/Marts, Apple/bees, Best/Buys, Starb/ucks, and Borders. [...]. This doubling of place not only arouses the unnerving suspicions -- “I’ve been here  before,” and “am I here, or am I in fact elsewhere?” – but additionally reaffirms the underlying unnaturalness of all place-based experience. The local is eerie on account of it being familiar. In other words, it is precisely because the local is “homely” that it is capable of being shot-through with the “unhomely.” The uncanny exists because there is an environment. [...] As multinational corporations seek to comfort and disarm through their “commonplace” design, they also run the risk that such places become indirectly disturbing in their duplication. Things are ambiguous where there is too much multivalent, ambient information coming in from all angles.

Human-animal-machine. Everywhere-anywhere-nowhere. Alive-dead-simulant. Evolve-devolve-mutate.

Rebecca Giggs. “The Rise of the Edge.” Draft. 2010.

---------------------

[johannstutt413]

(requested by anonymous)

Istina basically lived in the Doctor’s office when the other members of the USSGG weren’t around; it wasn’t because she didn’t have anywhere else to go - she had more accesses than the rest of her club, actually - but because RI’s best library was behind their desk, and because the Doctor didn’t have any problems with sharing reading material, it meant she essentially had the keys to the kingdom as far as she was concerned. There was just ooooone problem with the arrangement: every day, someone came into the office while they were on break, and it was Istina’s job to either a) redirect them to where they could actually get their problem solved, or b) take a message to relay to the Doctor when they got back. At least, that was how it was supposed to work.

Then, one day, an enemy of the state arrived during one of the Doctor’s breaks, and suddenly the world turned upside down.

“Hey, Doct-” An orange-haired Feline with an LGD badge opened the door to the office with a fast-disappearing smile. “Ah, he’s not here, is he?”

“No, they’re not. Can I take a message for them?” The Ursus replied, pointedly using the correct pronoun.

The intruder shrugged. “I can wait for them. Are you his assistant?”

“The Doctor completes their work more than sufficiently without the services of one.” She attempted to go back to her book, but could feel a pair of cat’s eyes on her still, so she closed the book (not before sliding her bookmark on her page) and sighed. “You’re certain I can’t simply take a message and have them contact you later?”

“Are you kidding? I barely get any breaks on a good day with all the training I have to organize. This is a perfect chance for me to relax. You on break, too?”

This woman was going to be the death of her; the adviser needed more ammunition. “My duties are to simply continue my self-directed education according to the parameters set by the Doctor and, on occasion, perform missions for Rhodes Island tailored to my particular set of skills. I don’t need to go ‘on break;’ rather, I go ‘on duty’ when asked and otherwise remain here, expanding my horizons.”

“Ah, so you’re a student, then? Ch’en went to school before she joined the force.” A moment of silence, but clearly the Feline wasn’t done yet as she stretched her arms behind her with a loud yawn. “Ahhh. *lip smack*...I’m gonna run and grab something to snack on. Can I get you anything.”

“Fina- I’m sorry?”

Swire chuckled. “Snacks. Want anything?”

“I...” Well, this was new territory; no one ever actually stayed long enough to hold a conversation with her nowadays (the Doctor was busy), and now this one was offering to bring her food as well? Marx would be so proud. “I’ll go with you; without a menu, I won’t be able to give you a precise request. Where are we going?”

“I was just going to run to the coffee shop next door. Do you drink coffee, by any chance?” She cocked her head, a visual representation of the new angle she’d found to approach from.

Istina shook her head. “Altering my mental faculties with unnecessary chemicals is...an alarming concept.”

“That makes sense. I need ‘em to stay awake for my shift, but they’ve got some decaf blends that are pretty good.” Another analyzing glance as she held the door open for the Ursus. “You like ice cream?”

“Who doesn’t?” No, seriously, who didn’t? Monsters, all of them. Enemies of the state for sure.

The Feline chuckled. “You’d be surprised. They’ve got these milkshakes they make with the syrups they use for some coffee orders, but no caffeine whatsoever.”

“Hmm...None at all?” She received a nod in response. “Alright, that sounds interesting.”

“Great! Have any money with you?”

Istina gave her a look. “Are you asking so I can pay for my drink?”

“Indirectly, I guess.” Swire shrugged. “I was just curious if communists carry cash or not.”

“I’m not a communist. Communism, for all its merits, is a flawed system at its core. No, I’m an adherent of something far more beneficent with actual potential.” Her eyes lit up at the thought.

The money-cat simply continued walking. “Well, best of luck with your plans for world domination. Want anything to eat while we’re here?”

“...I’ll look at the menu.” Apparently this one wasn’t much for philosophy. Pity; if she’d been a diehard capitalist like the advisor had expected, they might’ve had an interesting discussion. “You work with the LGD?”

“I did, but now I’m full-time for Rhodes Island. After everything that happened with Ch’en and Chernobog and all that, I realized I wanted to make more of a differe- are you okay?”

She was visibly shivering, so probably not. “N-nothing, it’s nothing.”

“Nothing doesn’t make a person shake like that.” Swire stopped, a few feet outside the coffee shop, and stood in front of her. “I won’t tell anyone what you tell me, but if we’re gonna be friends, I need to know what eggshells to dance around, you know?”

“Right...not here. Somewhere more private. Back in the Doctor’s office.”

The Feline nodded. “Whatever works for you.”

“Thank you.” Oh, she could almost smell the air from that night again. “Um...I have a rather strange request to make.”

“Strange? What, you want me to hold your hand or something?” It was just the first thing that came to mind.

The Ursus looked at her as if she was the lifeline to her drowning mind. “Would you? It’s so cold out here...”

“If that’s what you need.” Strangely conflicted - for what reason, she couldn’t exactly pinpoint - Swire took her hand and led her back to the Doctor’s office. “You’re cold, you said?”

“Y-yes.” Her teeth were audibly and visibly chattering as they passed through the threshold of the office. It was that night again, on the balcony with Vika-

-and then it wasn’t, because she didn’t remember sitting down, or having a Feline hugging her as if both their lives depended on it. “It’s alright, it’s alright. We’re here, at Rhodes Island, far away from that place and that time. I don’t think I’ve caught your name yet.”

“Anna,” Anna murmured, still where the money-cat, pressed to her, could hear. “And you are?”

“...Beatrix,” she muttered back equally as softly. How long had it been since she used her full name in this building, again?

Istina smiled. “Thank you, Bea. I think I was about to have a full panic attack there.”

“Heaven forbid it get any worse than that.” Swire didn’t immediately let go, though. “While we’re here, like this, do you feel comfortable talking more?”

“I...I don’t know.”

The Feline simply stroked her hair. “I’ll turn on some music, then. Thanks, by the way.”

“Thanks?” The Ursus shook her head. “I believe I should be thanking you for calming me down, and for wanting to buy me a snack, and...for wanting to listen, even if I didn’t think I wanted to be listened to right now.”

“Well, that’s all true, but I’m still gonna thank you for trusting me so quickly.”

Huh. That had all happened rather fast, the advisor had to admit to herself, but honestly? Did it matter? Right now, she was thinking about how nice it’d be to be able to sit in a rocking chair, cozy in the arms of a money-cat with a book in hand...

[f-o-r-g-e-t-m-e-n-0-t]

Axel was not okay.

Sure, he wore the skin of a man keeping it together. They’d ask “how are you doing?” and he’d say he’s “doing just fine” when in reality he was a man held together by duct tape and chewing gum and a rediscovered smoking habit.

623 days.

Six hundred and twenty three days.

Axel kept count.

His friends told him he looked well, lately. That he stood a little taller. That he looked grounded. They purposefully didn’t look at the gold band still on his finger. They didn’t ask about his work.

Axel had quit the Institute. He was being rash, he was having a breakdown, he’d regret it once the world settled around him. That’s what they all told him. It was such a great honor to work there, according to everyone else. Axel had thought that way too, once upon a time.

Six hundred and twenty three days ago.

Axel didn’t trust the Institute anymore. The name tasted like bile on his tongue, it’s pristine halls were glorified prisons. Eyes watched him, he was sure. They wouldn’t tell him anything. He had a right to know and they wouldn’t tell him anything! They just filled him with empty platitudes about how sorry they were for his loss...

His loss.

How patronizing.

Everyone ignored it. People went missing all the time now, each a mini tragedy that was chalked up to natural reasons and forgotten by the world at large.

Deja vu was a daily occurrence for everyone. No one talked about it. Nor did they talk about the things only seen from the corner of your eye, or how you would be so sure some everyday object was... different. Exactly the same, yet not. Replaced, somehow, by a perfect replica that could fool the eye, but you knew. You always knew. But you didn’t mention it.

People ignored the way the sky would sometimes shift and bend, like cellophane pulled and twisted by greedy hands. Axel wondered when it would break – he was sure it eventually would – and what would come pouring into their world that had previously been kept just behind the blue.

623 days.

Everything was wrong. Wrong wrong wrong.

An no one mentioned it. Pretended not to see. The same way they pretended not to see the way Axel still kept two pairs of shoes by the door. Two coffee mugs on the kitchen counter. Two toothbrushes in the bathroom.

A wedding ring on his left hand.

Six hundred and twenty three days. That’s how long he’d been alone. That’s when his world had fallen apart.

That’s when-

“Hey, Axel.” A heavy hand clapped down on his shoulder, pulling Axel from his thoughts.

Axel blinked rapidly and pulled his eyes away from his computer screen. “Morning, boss.”

Barret was a mountain of a man. Tall, imposing, and built like a brick house. He could easily snap Axel’s skinny body in half, if Barret weren’t, in reality, such a softie. The man had taken Axel into when he needed it most. Practically grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and hauled his drunken ass in to the little group he’d formed.

“Heard ya used to work for the Institute. We could use a brain like yours. Now, don’t lookit’ me that way, I – we – understand. We know what you’re goin’ through, kid. It’s hard. You ain’t obligated to do anything, but at the very least, come see what we’re about.”

Axel had done just that, and accepted his position on the spot.

Their team was small. Underground and secretive in their work. They didn’t even have a name, just a common goal.

Axel found he fit in with the band of misfits. They were all like him, eyes opened to the world around him, and disillusioned to its lies.

He was grateful to the team. After departing the Institute, he’d spent his time alone, isolated, running himself thin. When he wasn’t working, he was drinking into oblivion. When he wasn’t drinking into oblivion, he was working. He often had more cigarette smoke in his system than food.

The team gave him some stability. A sense that he belonged. That he wasn’t alone. That he wasn’t crazy. He couldn’t say he was terribly close with any of them — though some were certainly more friendly than others — but their presence was grounding and reassuring all the same.

And they were all looking for something. Someone.

Yuna’s boyfriend had gone missing two years prior. Lightning’s sister just a little longer than that. Prompto was looking for his best friend – a senator’s son, shockingly enough. Balthier was looking for his ‘partner in crime’, though Axel suspected there was more to the relationship than the man let on.

Barret probably had it the hardest. His young daughter had been missing for four years. It had been the driving force behind him starting up his little venture in the first place.

And Axel? Well...

“I’m sending you, Lightning, and Prompto out to the Western Wilds today,” Barret said. “Big energy flux out there.

With a nod and no questions asked, Axel grabbed his things and prepared to depart.

The Western Wilds had been beautiful once. Rolling green hills interspersed with the occasional grove of lush green trees. Blue skies that stretched on for miles. It had been left largely uncultivated, and instead acted as a nature preserve and wildlife park. There’d been a time when Axel, like many others, enjoyed weekend getaways there to camp or hike and simply ‘be one with nature.’

Now, it felt broken. Damaged. Strange rifts had opened up there, distorting the once beautiful and safe landscape. People couldn’t ignore the rifts as much as they did everything else, so they opted to abandon the place altogether. Retreat to the cities and their illusion of safety. Axel supposed be couldn’t blame them, there. Even much of the wildlife had fled.

It had become a routine place for the team to investigate because of the strange rifts. Surely it held answers for them. Surely it was connected to everything else so broken and wrong with their reality.

It’s distorted landscape was familiar enough, but as Axel and his companions hiked out onto the rolling fields, it felt... different. The air felt sharp, and something hummed in Axel’s veins.

Next to him, even the usually chatty Prompto had fallen quiet, camera gripped tightly in his hands, a thumb playing nervously with a dial. Lightning was never chatty, but there was a sharpness in her gaze. A tenseness in her shoulders. Something was different today.

It didn’t take them long to find their target, the cause of the energy flux. Cresting over a hill, the team spotted it immediately.

What had once been a small grove of trees, mercifully untouched by the schisms, was now a rats’ nest of distortions. Axel could hardly focus his eyes on the place. It was a smeared painting of what had once been trees. Leaves vibrated to the point of blurring, or seemed to flicker in and out of existence entirely. The very air around it warped and bent, like heat rising off asphalt. A strange black substance, so dark it absorbed light, oozed from bark like poisoned sap.

It was unlike any distortion they’d seen before.

Next to him, in a hushed voice, Prompto asked, “What on Earth is that?”

No one answered him. They had no answer to give.

Slowly, cautiously, they carried their equipment down the hill and approached the rift-torn-grove. The air buzzed as they picked their way between trees, closer and closer to the source of the distortion.

They knew it when they saw it, as it was unlike anything Axel had seen before. The very space seemed cracked, like a broken mirror, and reality sat disjointed and askew. A deep void in the center of the breakage, swirling black, and Axel felt the very blood in his veins pulled towards it.

The rifts of the Western Wilds often distorted and broke the landscape. None had such a... hole in them.

They stopped a few feet away, not daring to move any closer, and unloaded their equipment.

Every member on the team had their own theory to the distortions. A rift in time, from the future or the past. A tie to another reality altogether. Even a sentient being, or collection of beings caught in space time. No one theory prevailed above the others, but neither had any been ruled out.

Attempting communication with them or whatever was on the other side was one of their key goals, and since Axel had been working on doing just that before joining the team, he was in charge of continuing that work.

His equipment worked to record any transmission received from the rifts, where Axel would take them back to the lab to decipher what – if anything — they relayed.

He also sent his own messages out to the rifts, hoping something — someone — might pick it up.

His messages were wide and varied. Greetings in numerous languages. Speeches, Morse code, music. One song in particular was his favorite. It had been their song. Axel hoped that maybe it would reach, well...

It was one of multiple messages he’d use today. His teammates had their work as well. Prompto snapped photos and recorded video of the odd new rift, documenting it from every angle he could safely reach. Lightning surveyed the surrounding area, made notes of the trees, the plants, the soil, the wildlife – or lack thereof.

Axel’s first transmission went out, the sound oddly muffled and muted in the warped air around them. If Axel didn’t know better — and maybe he didn’t — he could have sworn the very sound and frequency was pulled into the void itself. He sent it out a second time, but his machines recorded no response.

A second, a third, a fourth, and a fifth all went out the same way, and all were greeted with silence from the other side. Axel couldn’t say he was surprised. Disappointed maybe, but this had long since become routine. He’d become used to the lack of a breakthrough.

He was nothing on his own. A bitter thought really, one that burned like bile. Smart? Capable? Hard working? Yes. But brilliant? No. Brilliant had been... brilliant was when they were together. Two minds working as one, filling in for and lifting up the other. Brilliant was-

With a sigh, Axel prepped the last message to be sent off to the void. His song — their song. The soft melody drifted up and out, bittersweet these days but no less lovely to Axel’s ears. He had almost let himself drift away with the music, when a loud ringing echoed through the grove. A sharp ping, like a glass being struck, so clear and loud compared to all other muted and warped sound.

All three members of the group stopped and, after a moment’s pause Lightning and Prompto rejoined Axel’s side. He could practically feel the questions on their tongues, but neither spoke, as all three simply waited with baited breath.

As they hoped, there was another loud ring. It came from the void and Axel’s equipment at once, as though the two were linked and communicating somehow. His heart stuttered in his chest at the revelation. Something had made contact! Something had made contact!

The next ring that came stretched into a long note, and Axel realized it was in tune with the music. A little warbly and distorted, but sure enough, there was a second song playing along with his own.

Axel didn’t have time to process that thought before the music began to get louder, and louder. Shrill and ringing it sliced through the crackling air, and sent the three team members to their knees. They covered their ears as the whole world vibrated around them, like a struck tuning fork. Cracks in the sky and the air splintered out, slicing reality like so much broken glass. Just when Axel thought they couldn’t take much more, it stopped.

The air went quiet and still.

Looking up, Axel saw the void had changed. The hole, the rift, had gotten wider. The dark expanse beyond it now seeped out, rolling like fog and dripping like oil. Where once the world had bent and pulled in towards toward the rift, now whatever was on the other side seemed to bulge and push back out.

The three held their breath as they watched, as silent and still as the air around them.

Movement. A shape, dark and cloaked in shadows, or rather, dripping with them. Inky black and moving oddly as it emerged from the void. It took a moment for Axel realize there was solid form at all beneath the darkness.

It shambled, staggered, then righted itself, moving like something injured or exhausted beyond reason. Perhaps both. All the while, the black substance sloughed off it like so much rotten skin. As more fell, the shape beneath was revealed.

They were human, or at least, human-esque.

Another stagger, and an arm raised to wipe away more of the inky black substance. It fell away with ease, leaving the person beneath it clean where Axel would have assumed them stained in black.

Each bit that fell away revealed more of the person beneath. Tanned skin, muscular arms. A tattered top, and dark, worn-in boots. Blond hair.

Axel tried to swallow the odd lump that had formed in his throat as his own heart threatened to beat out of his chest. He was standing, equipment dropped and forgotten on the grassy earth. Next to him, his team members called his name, but they sounded so far away. So unimportant. All Axel could focus on was the figure before him.

623 days.

Another step, and the man faltered, exhaustion finally taking its toll. He fell, one leg giving way, then two, before he slumped to the ground entirely.

Axel was running before he knew it, the frantic calls of Lightning and Prompto far, far behind him. He skidded to the ground next to the fallen, unconscious man.

With shaking hands and held breath, Axel brushed blond hair aside to behold the familiar face. Tanned skin. Freckles. Hidden eyes that Axel knew to be blue. A wedding ring on one finger.

Six hundred and twenty three days since he’d gone missing, disappeared like so many others. Six hundred and twenty three days that Axel had waited, and hoped, and searched, and now...

Axel’s husband was home.

Roxas was home.

[ohwereusingourmadeupnames]

It’s This Jealousy 

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Mature (M) Notes: I got tagged in this post right here by @starkerscoop and couldn’t pass up the opportunity to get my hands on it. It got a little smutty at the end - hope you don’t mind! (& @send-me-your-hcs asked for a tag, too!)  Warnings: masturbation  Summary: 

It's this jealousy Oh, and I just can't believe In this jealousy This jealousy for you

At the ripe age of 49, Tony never imagined he’d be best friends with an 18-year-old. After all the mess with Steve and Bucky, things were a little strained between Rhodey and Tony. It wasn’t anything personal, there were just lots of things between them now, the leg braces he worked constantly to improve not even close to the only thing. With Peter, Tony could simply be. Their shared history wasn’t filled with anything other than a little tension and some misplaced control on Tony’s part.

The more Tony started to see Peter as the intelligent person he was and not the kid he always made him out to be, the more he wanted to have the younger man around. There was something in the way he tilted his head to ask questions and babbled incessantly that Tony just felt drawn to. Try as he might, there was no escaping the magnetic pull that drew him more towards Peter every single day.

It wasn’t subtle, either – the way they just seemed to fit. Peter moved into Avenger’s tower after graduating; the transition from part time to full time was and easy one, he fit right in with everyone – especially Tony. It didn’t take long for the two of them to break off and head for the lab together or be found in the living room pressed together from shoulder to hip talking quietly amongst themselves.

If someone was looking for Tony, they always pointed him in Peter’s direction. There weren’t many times throughout the day that they weren’t together. Tony appreciated Peter’s brain – he thought from all angles and wasn’t afraid to be wrong. There were many times when Peter taught Tony something new or made him go back and look at things from a totally different perspective.

Just the other day, Tony sat with his head in his hands, the nanotech and its housing unit he’d been trying to manipulate for the last hour sitting uselessly on the desk. A soft touch on his shoulder had him looking up, a smile overtaking his face for the first time all day. “Hey, kid,” Tony said in greeting, his hand coming up to hold Peter’s to his shoulder for a moment. “Training go well?”

He’d been trying to update his suit, so he stepped out of the group training for the day. The transition from the mechanism on his chest to the full suit was still too slow – he needed at least another second off of the total time. The headache didn’t seem worth it at that point, though – he should have worked the frustrations out. His head ached and he wanted to pull the freshly showered Peter Parker closer to him more than usual.

When Tony let go of Peter’s hand, he was surprised to find that Peter didn’t move his hand from its place on his shoulder. In fact, the fingers there dug in, the tips moving up and down the line of muscle. He tried not to move – the last thing he wanted to do was scare the kid away; the touch felt amazing. It was almost enough to make the collection of useless tech below him not matter. Almost.

“It did – the new adjustments you made to the aiming system did a world of good. I was moving so fast today,” Peter answered, his voice excited. Tony forced himself to settle on the slightest flash of a smile – Peter loved being a superhero, it was so insanely obvious. More often times than not, Tony found himself working on Peter’s suit just to see the astonishing smile on his face – the very one that was beaming back at him right now.

Tony picked up the small screwdriver he’d been using to mess with the back paneling, his face burning a little from the rush of affection that washed over him. It didn’t make sense, feeling like a schoolboy with a crush. But he couldn’t help it – Peter was so wholesome and filled with excitability and life; it was hard not to be drawn to it. “Bummed I missed it. I’ll pull the data from EDITH later – we can do a little data spec. I’ll see it in real time that way.”

He heard Peter suck in a breath, then saw the smile on his face grow wider. “That sounds like a good idea. I also brought some new ideas for the next evolution of web fluid. I’m so close to a breakthrough.” He went about taking his StarkPad and old-fashioned spiral notebook out of his backpack, excitement written all over his face.

Sitting down next to him (instead of across from him like not too long ago) Peter leaned into Tony’s space, looking over his shoulder. “I don’t think it’s this,” Peter remarked, pointing to the external structure. “The adjustments you made on the shooters was in the programming. I don’t think it’s a mass thing, either. I think it’s in the transition.” To Tony’s surprise, he opened his notebook and pointed to a couple different equations. “I ran these this morning when I saw what you were looking at yesterday.”

Peter’s cheeks were red, and his body radiated the kind of heat that shouldn’t have been natural. It made his entire right side warm, the bare skin of his forearms prickling from the contact. Letting his eyes roam over the work, Tony leaned into him – an arm wrapping around his shoulder. “This is good stuff, Pete. I think I know exactly where to go now.” He kept his arm there for a few minutes, the two of them still lightly discussing the numbers and what brought Peter down that path.

A week later, his suit was ruining faster than ever before. Every time he punched the mechanism and the nanotech did its thing, Tony felt a warm drip of pride in the middle of his core – the little bits of attraction he’d been trying to hide getting harder and harder to ignore.

Especially because Peter seemed to think that their friendship came with an all access pass – to him, to the never-ending stream of thoughts that ran through his head, hell, to Tony’s things. Many times, he’d come back from a meeting and find Peter passed out on the edge of his bed, the huge TV dialed in to some anime show he couldn’t force himself to get into. He never did anything about it – how could he? Most of his daydreams revolved around that very instance.

After a few weeks, Peter started to talk – like, really talk. He started with the story of how his parents died and the struggle it was to get used to living with May and Ben. Peter talked about the things he missed because he didn’t have parents in his life, no matter how much his aunt and uncle tried. 

The more time they spent together, the more Peter let himself be free with his words. Tony knew what type of shampoo he preferred, how many times May walked in on him naked or unclothed, and all the different fanfictions currently all the rage.

They were close – plain and simple. There were a few times when their closeness seemed like it might be something else, but neither man acted upon it. Tony didn’t want to apply undue pressure to a situation that only few people his age were interested in. He didn’t know much about Peter’s thoughts on that matter – it was the one thing they didn’t talk about.

MJ quickly became a topic that strictly stayed in the friend pile, Peter’s interest in her weaning significantly after some sort of mishap during their trip to Europe.

Tony spent most of his time holed up in his bedroom the entire week Peter was gone, his mind and body exhausted from all the work he managed to get done in the comfort of his king-sized bed. He didn’t talk to anyone, Tony keenly aware that his behavior was not appropriate for an almost 50-year-old person.

He could never admit that Peter coming back was the best day of the entire summer – the two of them quickly catching up on his use of EDITH and the different aspects of the new suit he wanted to start working on for his patrols back in the city. It seemed like nothing changed between them – but relationships or anything related weren’t brought up again.

The idea that he wasn’t approachable in that area made his jaw clench. His history didn’t lend itself to a positive image, he could admit that. There were a few years when things were so out of whack that only going from one thing to the next could satisfy him. After the cave, Tony figured the person closest to him when he got back was the answer. The try he applied to his relationship with Pepper wasn’t lacking, they were simply better off as friends.

It smarted a little – how perceptive Peter was. If the reason he didn’t approach Tony was because of his past, he couldn’t begrudge Peter one single bit. The kid was smart and understood that bad habits weren’t to be repeated. Too bad Tony’s history wasn’t anything like the way he currently felt and thought.

----

Walking into the kitchen in the common area of the tower, Tony quirked a brow at the congregation of Steve Rogers, Wanda, Bucky, and Peter – they all looked up at him when they realized he was in the room. Peter’s cheeks colored, his eyes drifting down to the hands knit together in front of him. The rest of the adults at the table were looking at him with looks of curiosity and interest – Tony almost certain he could feel Wanda picking around in his brain, or something.

“Tony!” Peter exclaimed, one of his hands moving quickly to cover his mouth. It would have been comical if Tony didn’t know the kid so well. Peter didn’t do so well with lying or bending the truth – his face and expressive eyes gave him away. Staring at him now, Tony wondered what kind of snake pit he walked into. He gave the group a swift nod but didn’t stop to join them – he didn’t need spider senses to understand the prickly sensation on the back of his neck.

He was quick to get the hell out of dodge, a water bottle in his hand – the thought of making a sandwich quickly abandoned when all of the eyes in the room followed his every movement. Settling onto the couch, Tony put a random Netflix show on and turned up the volume – his ears ringing from the overdrive of his thoughts. Whatever they were talking about, he suspected it might have something to do with him.

It didn’t stay a mystery long. Tony saw Steve approaching him from the laid-back position he let himself curl into on the couch. Queer Eye sucked him in, so he let his brain check out, his body relaxing with the rest of him. The second he saw Steve, though, he sat up – the prickly sensation returning to his skin. He felt like he might throw up all over his fancy shoes, the thought that maybe throwing up would be a little less painful than whatever Steve might have to say crossed his mind.

“So – “ Steve started, his arms folding across his chest as he settled into the empty part of the couch. “I had a surprising conversation with Peter. Or well, he asked some surprising questions. Are things okay between the two of you?” Steve’s voice sounded a little patronizing – the big brother act something Tony could never get behind. At least he was here talking to him, though – it didn’t seem right to begrudge him that.

“What are you talking about, Rogers? I don’t know what kind of questions he asked you to know what you’re referring to. The last time I saw Peter, he was smiling over a beaker of web fluid.” Tony pressed himself against the side of the couch, the softness of it aggravating. In that moment, he wanted weight – something to ground him to this weird conversation.

In another life, Tony would’ve appreciated the tilt of Steve’s head, the curious look in his eye not the worst thing to look at. He knew what it was like to take on Bucky, though – he’d never win that fight alone. Shaking his head of the thought, he focused on Steve and the words it seemed he was trying to find. “He was asking about pleasuring himself. We all assumed you two were good in that department.”

Tony sucked in a breath, his eye bulging. “Pleasuring himself – what? Steve, we’re not together.” The words felt weird coming out of his mouth, like they were trying their hardest to cling to the surface of his tongue and not be spoken; speaking them made it true. Running a hand through his hair, Tony wished that the couch would open up and swallow him whole.

The emotions that swarmed around him made it hard to pay attention to anything else Steve said – his head nodding, but his brain not really processing anything. All he could think about was the fact that Peter went to Steve Rogers of all people to ask about the most personal of matters. Tony was good enough for everything except carnality – what a joy that was to learn. Without much thought, Tony got up, not really giving two shits about the still talking Steve gaping at him from the couch.

He took refuge in the lab – the sight and smell of familiar things enough to calm him down slightly. “FRIDAY, play some classic rock, will you? KISS, maybe.” Tony said absentmindedly – music would drown out the bottomless pit of things that only made him angry. His understanding of how irrational it was to be as angry and jealous and upset about something that wasn’t even his business made it all a little worse.

A whoosh of the door opening a little while later brought Tony out of the trance that he blissfully slipped into. Not thinking was a lot better than the war of emotions that threatened to consume him. His eyes caught Peter’s, his exterior softening for a second – his presence was soothing, even now.

Remembering Steve’s mistake and the weird feeling of betrayal, Tony lowered his eyes quickly – it would take ignoring the soft look in Peter’s eye to keep firm to his resolve to be mad.

“Tony – I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” Peter approached him like one would a wounded animal, slowly and with caution. He wondered if Steve was supposed to tell Tony about Peter’s questions – if he was betraying the kid’s trust to set the record straight. His blood felt like it was boiling – the direction of his thoughts not very productive in deactivating the bomb that was ticking down, each second a little closer to explosion.

He felt himself huff out a sarcastic laugh, his emotions getting the best of him. “Well, you found me. Now what?” Tony’s voice was harder than he ever wanted to use towards Peter – the pitch of it sending a shiver of shame down his spine. The subtle change in the room wasn’t missed – so he let the feeling take hold; what did he really have to lose?

“What? Tony, I – “ Peter spluttered, words not coming despite his demand for them.

“You what? You’ve told me your entire life story, every little intimate detail, but you seek out Steve Rogers for sex advice? I don’t get you, Peter – a little piece of me is licking a wound. It kind of feels a little like betrayal.” Tony inwardly cringed, his own desperation so very evident. The dam inside of him was broken – there seemed to really be no going back. “I’m good enough for everything but this?”

Peter’s face fell, his usually bright eyes clouded over by confusion that was swiftly mixing with hurt – it pained Tony on a molecular level, seeing that gorgeous face anything but radiant with happiness. “Steve’s such an asshole,” Peter muttered, his eyes dropping to the floor. Tony wanted to pick Peter’s head up and rub his cheeks until the red hue and shine came back to his face.

“I didn’t come to you because you’re the one driving me crazy – I’ve been so on edge around you and I can’t – there hasn’t been any relief. I thought I’d ask people who are just as souped up as me about it. I thought maybe there was something wrong with me,” Peter admitted quietly, his eyes peeking up to gauge the look on Tony’s face.

Shaking his head, Tony cursed himself for not being the stonewalled person he made himself out to be. The cracks in his armor were ones he couldn’t buff out – no matter how hard he tried. Words he longed to hear sat on his skin, his body trying to decide how to process the stimulus of actually getting the thing he wanted the most.

The few steps it took to close the gap between them felt like miles – Tony couldn’t get his hands on Peter fast enough. “I’m driving you crazy?” Tony mumbled; his hands grabbing Peter’s hips. “You walk into the room and I’m completely lost. I’ve thought about bending you over every one of these tables – kissing you breathless against the damn fridge you lean into and search for food that isn’t there.”

Peter wrapped his arms around Tony’s neck, his enhanced strength pulling Tony against him before he knew what happened. There wasn’t any space left between them, their noses brushing with every hitch of breath either man took. “You’re my best friend, Pete – I haven’t wanted to fuck that up.”

Their lips touched then, both of them leaning in to close the distance. Tony’s fingers clenched, the hold on Peter’s hips tightening. The t-shirt Peter was wearing rode up a little, a bare stripe of skin available for his fingers to touch. At first brush, the body against him squirmed, Peter pulling away to let out a soft gasp. “Fuck!” Peter grunted out, his eyes clenching closed.

Tony watched Peter’s reaction, a rush of heat collecting in the boiling pit of his stomach – his cock throbbed against the zipper of his jeans. He’d thought a lot about what Peter would look like in the throes of passion – the sight was exponentially better than anything his brain could dream up. The flush on his cheeks made them seem fuller, the globe of them looking tasty enough to pull into his mouth. Glazed eyes and a hanging jaw had Tony moving – his lips desperate to be pressed against Peter’s once again.

“We should move this elsewhere,” Peter babbled against Tony’s lips, his fingers fisted in the front of Tony’s shirt. “I want to feel your skin, Tony.” His hands were uselessly tugging at the buttons, the fabric of it starting to tear with the force of his grip.

Groaning, Tony forced himself to take a couple of steps out of Peter’s grip completely. It would take too many brain cells to get to the elevator and up to the floor his rooms were on if he were still anyway attached to Peter – his hands achy to touch, to finally feel the thrum of Peter’s heartbeat pulsing in his veins.

“After you,” Tony mumbled, his chest heaving as he watched Peter walk in front of him, the articulation of his step hitched a bit from the stiffness in his pants. His steps were quick and the view from behind was nice – a good enough distraction to get him from the lab, into the elevator, and then down the hall where he grabbed Peter’s hand and pulled him along.

The slamming of the door in his bedroom was more satisfying than he figured something small like that had the right to be. Peter’s breath hitched when Tony’s eager fingers slipped under the edge of the soft t-shirt covering the long limbs he’d been thinking about for months. It got caught on Peter’s ear as Tony pulled it off, both of them laughing. “I can’t believe this is happening,” Peter admitted, pupils blown wide.

Tony grinned, the tips of his fingers trailing down the hard planes of Peter’s sides – “It’s real – I’m real,” Tony answered, his hand grabbing Peter’s and placing it over the hardness trying to escape the confines of his jeans. “That’s for you.” He let a chuckle slip, the reaction of Peter’s hand tightening on his crotch surprising him.

They made quick work of clothes after that, Tony kissing him breathless between the unbuttoning of his shirt buttons and the fumbling it took to get shoes, pants, and briefs off. Peter ended up in the middle of the bed, Tony settled between his spread legs. “Touch yourself. Steve may be enhanced, but I know what it’s like to feel good,” Tony’s voice dropped, his eyes wandering over every single inch of Peter stretched out below him.

Peter didn’t wait to do what he said, long fingers wrapping around a thick erection before Tony even finished speaking. His grip was tight, Tony taking stock in the way he slid his hand from the head to the base, and the flick of his wrist on the upstroke. Dark eyelashes flickered, the edges of them just barely moving along the edge of Peter’s cheek.  

Without saying anything, Tony let the fingers of his right-hand trail along the inside of Peter’s thighs. He kept the touch light, the skin pebbling with his caress. “The best part of what you’re doing is the build-up. It starts with the littlest itch. You grasp on and try to itch, but the pressure you’re using isn’t enough,” Tony flattened his hand, his palm running down the front of Peter’s balls. They were slightly hairy and drawn up – the sheen of sweat on Peter’s skin telling him just how much Peter seemed to be enjoying the tease.

Gripping both of Peter’s balls in his hand, Tony gave a tug and rolled them between his fingers. “So, you grip a little harder and move your hand a little faster – it’s the sweet combination of pleasure-pain, the relief of almost curing the itch and the slightest dig of your fingernails into your skin.” Tony let his left-hand wrap around his own length, the tip completely drenched in precum.

Tony slipped his hand from Peter’s balls down his perineum and in between his cheeks, his finger tracing around the tight rim of his asshole. Peter’s hand was moving quickly over himself, his eyes wide as he tried to stave off an orgasm and catch every move of Tony’s hand that he could. “You should cum, Pete. Finally scratch that itch.��� Tony’s finger pressed ever so slightly against the rim as he spoke, the tip barely slipping inside. “Cum, Pete.”

The clench of Peter’s muscles was almost enough to pull Tony over the edge with him – Peter’s hand was flying over his length, the start of his orgasm splashing against the bottom of his stomach, then pooling between the ab and pec complex up towards his chest. Tony’s name dripped from his lips, Peter’s free hand fumbling around until he grasped bare skin.

It took a couple more strokes for Tony to follow him over the edge, the sight of Peter’s cum coating his own stomach and the blissed-out expression on his face more than enough to fuel Tony’s fire for a long time to come.

Without much thought, Tony collapsed on Peter’s chest, their legs tangling. He didn’t care about the cum that smeared against his skin when he moved in to press a kiss to already swollen lips – Tony hoped to spend many days covered in Peter’s cum and sweat. Now that the dam was broken, there’d be no holding back the feelings he tried his best to keep under control.

Peter’s arms wrapped tightly around him, Tony feeling the boy’s sigh from his position against his chest. His skin was warm and slick – the softness of it a contrast that made Tony want to hunker down and be surrounded by it forever.

[queenlua]

Opinions on insect suffering and what to do about it?

...kinda complicated, actually.

on a practical/pragmatic level: i don’t care; there’s a bunch of other issues i find way more pressing and fraught and would rather invest time/thought toward those, if i’m gonna like, fight for some particular issue in the public sphere.

on a hippie-dippy-philosophical level: i think people who care about insect suffering are onto something, but approaching it from the totally wrong angle?  it’s right to be concerned about the moral status of nonhuman entities (a thing that e.g. a lot of pre-Christian religions took for granted), but taking the next step toward some sort of stewardship is... eek.

i think justin e.h. smith is too harsh but he gestures at something that i’m more in agreement with:

A particularly frustrating example of recent moral philosophical engagement with the animal question is Kyle Johannsen’s Wild Animal Ethics: The Moral and Political Problem of Wild Animal Suffering.

The author begins his work by observing that a great number of sentient biological species —the so-called r-strategists— maximise their reproductive success not by investing care and protection in their offspring, as the K-strategists do, but by having far more offspring than will survive to adulthood, leaving them to fend for themselves from the moment of birth, and relying on their large numbers to ensure that at least a few will get a chance to reproduce in turn. Johannsen notes that for the great majority of such offspring, life is short and characterised principally by suffering, and is thus probably not worth living at all. He proposes that it may therefore be our moral duty to harness science, and in particular the new technologies of gene editing, to alter the natural world around us in order to diminish the number of sentient creatures whose lives are like this.

The argument is prima facie absurd. For one thing, Johannsen is far too easily satisfied that we have a clear idea of what ought to count as suffering in nature, and of how widely the capacity to experience it extends. It is supposed to be a capacity that only “sentient” creatures have, and this capacity is supposed to be anchored in a certain neurophysiological structure. This presumption is all-too common in moral philosophy — for example, when Liz Harman argues that foetuses are no more worthy of an attribution of moral status than plants, she bases her presumption that plants are not worthy of such an attribution on what science tells us, for now, about plant physiology. Here it is worth noting that in the nineteenth century there was a general consensus that plants do not have physiology, that this is something characteristic only of animals. Today a small number of researchers are in turn prepared to say that not only do they have physiology —a point conceded long ago—, but something at least analogous to neurobiology as well. Plants do not have nerves, exactly, but they do duplicate what nervous systems do through complex systems of chemical transmission, and in the end nervous systems are themselves only complex systems of chemical transmission too. So as to the science, we’ll have to wait and see what future discoveries and conceptual shifts reveal.

But even without the science, it is worth remembering that the vast majority of Barbarian philosophers have indeed attributed something like moral status to plants, and it may be yet another consequence of the unecological removal of human beings from the natural world at the beginning of the era of civilisational philosophy that we are able to take it for granted, now, that they do not have such a status. The same goes for bacteria and viruses and all of nature: from a certain point of view, everything suffers — the old “merely” physical notion of suffering —as in the opposite of acting (Latin pati, French pâtir)— is not entirely unconnected to the moral notion. It is by no means clear, when it comes down to it, that suffering is bad, since it may well simply be baked into the sine-qua-non terms of existence, and whatever is necessary, from a certain point of view, cannot properly be considered a misfortune. In terms of theodicy, one might say that it is simply part of the bargain of having a world of variety. In more ancient theological terms, it might be said that this is the condition of the Creation of the material world itself: you could have had no suffering, but only by having nothing at all. If this is so, then I for one really do not know whether it follows that, as Sophocles wrote, “The best thing by far is not to be born.” But I do know the matter is not going to be resolved by someone who thinks the past few years of developments in the biotech field are a game-changer in this regard.

The second, related absurdity in Johannsen’s argument is that if we were to carry it out, it would of course backfire. The baby lizards born of their r-strategist mother do not die in vain. Their death is part of a fragile ecological cycle, with species at different trophic levels playing their respective roles. Johannsen does make some effort to acknowledge the difficulty involved, and not to propose any concrete actions that could have unforeseen ecological consequences. But his caveats are unconvincing. We will never be in a position of sufficient expertise to responsibly begin genetically editing all of the r-species in nature (the majority of species, that is) with reasonable certainty that our intervention will not bring about more suffering than having simply left nature alone.