#I hope your internet dies and your electricity blows out

[jayeray]

Weathering the Storm

Hey all. I don’t know how many people this will actually reach, but I thought I would take the time to put this out there. I’m pretty private about my personal life, but I feel this needs to be shared. For those of you who don’t want to read a long post or are simply interested I feel like this short video might help add some weight to what I’m saying...

I live in Iowa, I have family and friends in Iowa. I grew up here, and while I’m no longer in Cedar Rapids, it is where I went to High School.

I was in Cedar Rapids for the storm, and was in a restaurant with my sister and Aunt when it blew through. My uncle who’s lived in Iowa all his 65+ years of life has said he’s never seen anything like it. People are saying it was like a forty mile wide tornado that traveled across almost all of Iowa and parts of Wisconsin and Illinois.

Being in that storm was one of the most eerie experiences of my life. The cracking of trees, hundreds of years old as they snapped under the wind was like gunshots. The rain didn’t come down sideways, it came in spirals, the wind blowing so hard it was almost shocking that it made it to the ground at all. The windows let us see metal benches and bike racks literally flying past down the street along with all sorts of other debris.

I went to lunch with them at 11:30, the storm struck at about noon. We didn’t dare venture out until about 1:15 and it was still pouring rain even though the winds had died down. Driving out of there was a nightmare. Water was pooling so high in places it was up past our ankles in the streets. Tree branches, the kind you don’t dare drive over, bricks, shingles, and other debris littered the street, you couldn’t drive without swerving around them or navigating through back routes and alleys going in circles trying to find a safe way out.

Normally it takes about fifteen minutes to get from the restaurant we were at to my Aunt’s home. It took us well over two hours. We drove under power lines low enough they nearly scraped the roof of her car, we drove over so many downed power lines I lost count praying none of them were live. We smelled fire, several places burned down during the storm, struck by lightning and unable to be rescued by the fire department who couldn’t reach them through the storm. We smelled gas, gas stations with their pumps all sideways, knocked to the ground and scattered, and leaking where a single spark could cause and explosion.

There was glass everywhere, trees blocking whole roads, impaled or crushing cars and countless semis on their sides, knocked over by the winds. Even train cars didn’t escape the damage. The sounds of emergency vehicles was almost constant as police, ambulances and fire trucks scrambled to reach people in trouble.

Luckily we made it home safe, but there were several close calls and the aftermath hasn’t been pretty. My Aunt and my sister’s homes are both safe, but two of my cousins have trees in their living rooms. One has had her garage completely flattened, and her neighbor is already trying to commit fraud by blaming my cousin for the tree falling, claiming it was dead and a danger before the storm and insisting she pay for the damage to the neighbor’s house.

I have only just gotten back on the internet. We’ve been without power since Monday. In the mean time it’s been hot. We couldn’t cook food. Everything in the refrigerator and freezer has spoiled. Clean-up for my cousins in particular has been a hassle because how do you clear enormous hundred year old trees without a chain saw which needs electricity. There was no hot water, which meant no showers for anyone after sweating all day cleaning up either.

There was no cell service, and no internet. We were practically blind to the world, relying on our neighbors for help and any sort of news that was passed on by word of mouth. The only way to charge electronics was to use your car, but getting gas was near impossible, not only because gas stations were destroyed, but because even those that weren’t require electricity to run your card. Which means you had do drive quite a ways to reach somewhere with power, and pray your car didn’t run out on the way.

It’s been a harrowing experience. One I wouldn’t wish on anyone, but there have been bright spots. Amazing neighbors who found and brought ice and coolers to help store refrigerated/frozen food. Neighborhood cookouts, where the neighbors volunteered their grills and fire pits for anyone who needed them to cook with. Restaurants and businesses offering free food and charging stations to those without power. Electric companies and trucks coming from all over to help try to bring power back. It’s been a crazy ride and its still on going.

That is part of why I’m posting. I get to leave. I get to go to my home, which is safe, undamaged and has power, but the people here do not. I’m not sure what can be done. The clean-up is going to take a long time, people have lost their homes, businesses, work places, and vehicles. It’s going to take a lot of work, and quite frankly a lot of money to put everything to rights, and the worst part is I don’t even know if/where people can donate. The only places I can think of are food banks and that’s impossible if you’re not local.

However I am hoping to spread the word, to reach people, even if its just a few, who might be more educated than me as to what can be done, and to share my story and vent some of my feelings. I hope you’re all safe wherever you may be! Please send thoughts and prayers to Iowa!

[pi-creates]

So I’ve been happily watching @stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale stream through games recently, and she has decided to try one of my favourite Telltale games - Tales From the Borderlands. But since CJ isn’t familiar with the Borderlands games (and from the sounds of things, neither are some people in the chat) I’ve put together a very basic bit of background information from what I know (I also haven’t played everything from after TFTB’s release). 

It isn’t necessary to know any of this to enjoy TFTB as it gives a brief, ‘bare-bones’ introduction, but I figured it might help some people who like having that extra bit of depth going in without having to play through the other games. 

There won’t be spoilers for the TFTB plot, obviously, but the bottom section under the ‘read more’ will list characters from the main series who are mentioned/appear in the game and relevant information that someone familiar with the series should already know about them. But if you are familiar with the series and don’t want to know who may or may not show up (or would just rather go in blind to who is a ‘returning’ character) - stop reading at the Notable characters segment. 

[Spoilers for the Borderlands series below here]

For starters, Borderlands is set in the distant future – there are ways to ‘digistruct’ weapons and vehicles at the press of a button, you can walk up to a vending machine and instantly change your appearance, there are advanced cybernetics, robots are normal, you can have personal shields, teleportation is technically possible for both weaponry (notably grenades) and people, and there are guns that shoot electricity/fire/corrosive ammunition.

The goal of every Borderlands game revolves around the idea of opening a Vault – an ancient archway of Eridian origins (just think of long-extinct aliens) that is filled with treasures, hostile guardian entities, and also a very big, pissed off vault monster who will attempt to destroy anyone/anything that tries to get inside. The people who take the risk of searching for a vault and the treasures inside are labelled as Vault Hunters. In the core games, this would be you.

The problem is that finding a vault is hard since they are hidden, and they are often locked with artefact keys that trigger them to unlock. This means that the location of a vault, a vault key, or any signs of Eridian tech is VERY highly valued. Most of the games therefore revolve around the planet of Pandora since it has a high concentration of Eridian ruins which leads prospecting vault hunters to assume there must be more vaults to find on the planet.

Pandora, though, is more than a little inhospitable. The environment is mostly barren or wildly extreme, the wildlife is often very aggressive and deadly, and the people tend to be very rough since they have to deal with all of that. The planet itself doesn’t offer many prospects beyond weapon manufacturing, research, resource mining, and banditry. It has, however, previously been home to large corporations who tried to exploit said resources and attempted to ‘civilise’ the locals who would rather tell those corporations to piss off with the booming end of a shotgun. There is also a significant portion of the population who teeter really close to insanity on a daily basis. That is normal for them.

All of the attempts to settle and gather resources from Pandora has led to literal rubbish heaps, abandoned colonisation attempts, manufacturing/research zones that are often not friendly, bandit shanty towns, toxic chemical zones (from corporations running unethical experimentation) and SO many roaming bandits. Naturally, the locals don’t take kindly to anyone who works for the bigger corporations as they expect to be screwed over or exploited in some way.

For people familiar with the series, the timeline for Tales from the Borderlands is set after Borderlands 2 and before the Fight For Sanctuary DLC.

For people unfamiliar, you need to know that Pandora has recently dealt with the Handsome Jack problem. Basically, the handsome Hyperion CEO was set on wiping out all bandits and dangerous wildlife from Pandora. The problem was that Jack had a very low opinion of vault hunters, bandits, and pretty much everyone on Pandora as he believed they all fell in to those categories. 

The player’s introduction to Jack literally comes from him inviting vault hunters to Pandora, only for him to then blow up the transport in transit. You are lucky enough to survive where most others died. Jack himself then contacts you to say that you aren’t following his plan to kill all the vault hunters and “if you could just do me a favour and off yourself, that’d be great. Thanks, pumpkin.“

At the start of Borderlands 2 you will hear of Jack’s rather unethical and violent methods of dealing with people who aren’t on board with his plan – all while having a rather cheerful manner of speaking, almost as if he was enjoying playing the game with you as his opponent. He actually keeps in contact with the vault hunters throughout the game to casually chat with them, and occasionally yell at them if they aren’t playing along with him.

He plotted to open a vault on Pandora that held a very powerful monster called the Warrior. He was going to harness the Warrior’s powers to enact his wide-scale extermination plans. On the journey to stop his plans the vault hunters end up killing Jack’s daughter, Angel, as she was being used to ‘charge’ the vault key. Angel herself led the vault hunters to her location in the hopes that they would stop her father’s plans, much to Jack’s disapproval. He stops being cheerful at this point and doubles-down on wanting to raze all of Pandora to the ground.

He does successfully open the vault and the vault hunters have to defeat the Warrior before Jack can use it. The vault hunters win and Jack is killed for his crimes against Pandora. His final speech before dying in Borderlands 2 was very cool – including it here as it sums up his thought process really well. It has also lead to some interesting interpretations of Jack’s overall character.

"No, no, no... I can't die like this... Not when I'm so close... And not at the hands of a filthy bandit! I could have saved this planet! I could have actually restored order! And I wasn't supposed to die by the hands... of a CHILD KILLING PSYCHOPATH!! You're a savage! You're a maniac, you are a bandit, AND I AM THE GODDAMN HERO!!

"The Warrior was practically a god! How- How in the HELL have you killed my Warrior?!

"You idiots! The Warrior could have brought peace to this planet! No more dangerous creatures, no more bandits, Pandora-it would have been a PARADISE!!"

Naturally, since all of this drama happened not long ago, the citizens of Pandora are very much still on edge in regards to anyone who works for the bigger corporations – Hyperion especially.

Definitions to some things you are likely to see/hear about in TFTB –

Eridium – An ore-like resource associated with the vaults. It glows purple and is supposedly exceptionally rare in most of the universe – but not Pandora. This is what most of the manufacturing companies want since it can be harnessed to create highly effective tech/weapons.

Catch-A-Ride – The service that Scooter (a mechanic on Pandora) uses to digistruct vehicles out of Catch-A-Ride stations.  

ECHOs / ECHOnet – Essentially your mobile phone with internet and an app that lets you check everything in your backpack with a holographic display.

The Crimson Raiders – More or less the resistance fighters of Pandora who kept the citizens protected during the fighting of the main games. Run by the original vault hunters and still active in keeping Pandora free of outside threats.

Atlas – A technology and weapon corporation that was the first to make an earnest attempt to colonise Pandora after they suspected it would hold a vault. Was known as one of the best in terms of quality. They have since gone out of business.

Hyperion – The main corporation you will be dealing with. Has a particularly bad reputation on Pandora due to their former CEO, Handsome Jack, attempting to wipe out every bandit community on Pandora. Under Jack’s rule a lot of experiments were also run testing Eridium and Eridium by-products on people and animals – resulting in death, mutation, and insanity to most subjects.

Helios – Hyperion’s orbital station that can constantly be seen orbiting between Pandora and its moon. The station itself is shaped like a giant ‘H’ and houses a concentrated weapon that can shoot massive ammunition at targeted areas on Pandora. The weapon can also be used to shoot transport containers from the orbital station down to Pandora’s surface.

Elpis – Pandora’s moon. Visibly cracked open due to excessive mining. Everyone from here is VERY Aussie and it’s a little weird...

Notable characters you may meet/need to know about –

Marcus – Your narrator – he also narrated the intros and endings to the other games. You won’t see him, but it’s a nice tie in to the format of the main series.

Sirens – Essentially these ladies are magic. They are all born normal, but they will suddenly change and inherit their siren powers when another siren dies. They stand out by their glowing, tattoo-like markings that mysteriously appear on them when they awaken their siren abilities. Not much is known about them other than they can interact with Eridian based materials, and that they are excessively powerful since they have magic abilities.

Claptrap (CL4P-TP) – A class of unicycle robot that is very annoying. Doesn’t shut up, but is technically a vault hunter. You may or may not run in to him.

Angel / (Guardian Angel) – A siren who had the ability to interface with technology. She is the daughter of Handsome Jack and spent most of her life hidden in a secured bunker that only her father could enter via a DNA lock and voice password (her father saying “I love you”). This is due to Jack becoming extremely protective after bandits tried to abduct Angel upon realising she was a siren, and after Angel unintentionally killed her own mother with her powers. Due to her siren powers, she had the ability to stay in constant communication with anyone outside of the bunker, and to help her father with any tasks he required. Was killed by the vault hunters in Borderlands 2.

Handsome Jack – Antagonist from Borderlands 2 and previously the CEO of Hyperion. Has a mask of his face fastened over his actual face which was scarred by an Eridian artefact on Elpis. Starting out as a programmer, he worked his way up the ladder in Hyperion with Angel’s help through a mix of (initially) well intentioned plans to help the people of Elpis, and a growing obsession with power and hatred for Pandora and its bandits. He eventually strangled his boss and named himself President and CEO of the company.

Professor Nakayama – Had a massive crush on Handsome Jack in Borderlands 2. Smart guy who was devastated by Handsome Jack’s death and was working on a way to find the best successor to Jack to run Hyperion. He was attempting to clone Jack from old medical data (taken somewhere before the start of Borderlands 2′s plot) before the vault hunter’s confronted him and he literally dies from falling down a flight of stairs. Easiest boss battle ever.

Shade – DEFINITELY NOT INSANE. Somehow lived alone in a town in the middle of a desert with no water - and this definitely didn’t effect him mentally at all. He just wants a friend.

Scooter – Pandora’s best mechanic. Nice guy and actually a little more normal than a lot of other Pandorans. Has girl troubles, not that he’d ever admit it.

Ellie – Scooter’s sister. Also a mechanic, much to her mother’s displeasure.

Moxxi – Mother of Scooter and Ellie – runs a bar, slot machines, and previously a battle arena (The Underdome). Pretty much seen as Pandora’s Pin-Up, which she seems happy about since it has garnered her significant influence and power on Pandora. She speaks in pure innuendo.

Janey – Elpis’ best mechanic, focusing more on vehicles that work in low (or no) gravity. Runs an equivalent of Catch-A-Ride on Elpis. Girlfriend of Athena.

Athena – Vault hunter who was hired by Jack to help with the Vault on Elpis. Had a falling out with Jack after dealing with the Elpis situation, as this is where Jack was clearly starting to lose his stability. She notably fights with a shield that she can throw and return to her hand. Previously an Atlas employed assassin who turned against the company after Atlas tricked her into assassinating a target that was very important to her. Girlfriend of Janey.

Zer0 – Vault hunter who found a Pandoran vault and was involved in killing Handsome Jack. Another assassin who fights with a sword and is capable of making hologram decoys of himself. He likes to display holograms in front of his helmet to communicate since you cannot see his facial expressions. He’s an alien / who always speaks in haiku / with some exceptions.

Brick – Vault hunter from the first game. He is a berserker who punches VERY hard, but is a softy at heart.

Mordecai – Vault hunter from the first game. Sniper and sharpshooter, doesn’t need a scope to get a good headshot.

Lilith – Vault hunter from the first game. Siren who leads The Crimson raiders along with Brick and Mordecai.

Loader Bots – Hyperion made bots that are used for security and manual labour. They are big, they can speak, and they are very sturdy. Weirdly enough, they have the capacity to become self-aware (though self-aware models are often destroyed by Hyperion if discovered).

Psychos – A particular class of bandit that is always shirtless, dressed in orange pants, masked, and they all speak complete gibberish. They have some consistencies to their gibberish including an obsession with meat and salt.

Butt Stallion – Handsome Jack’s diamond Pony – Jack lovingly named her after the vault hunters at the start of Borderlands 2. She eats Eridium and poops guns... I wish I was kidding.

[conant21]

Heart of Iron

So not only is this the longest of the chapters so far but also the hardest to write. No worries thought because I had lots of fun writing this one. I hope you all enjoy this chapter. i am hoping to get the next chapter out before the new year, but I have a special surprise on Christmas for you all so stay put!!

Prologue: the beginning  Chapter 1: Ophelia  Chapter 2: Viper 

Chapter 3: Insight

January 9th, 2014 Washington DC

The sound of boots could be heard in the bank vault as lab techs continued to work. Looking up from her file’s Y/N noticed Rumlow walking towards her. Looking back down his gruff voice called out; “We have a problem, Pierce wants you to send the Asset with a team to take Fury out. He knows something is wrong with Insight.” “Last time I checked our presence was to remain undetected. So why can’t you take Fury out?” “And last time I checked when the boss gives orders you follow them or are, we going to have a problem Viper?” Huffing and rolling your eyes you replied, “No it will be done.” Sparing one last glance at Rumlow you got up walking towards the cryo pod station. Nodding at the doctors they began to start the processes of waking the Winter Soldier. As the screams began you turned away otherwise, they would see the compassion you had for the Soldier. A doctor came to tell you he was ready for orders. The orders that you had to give made you sick to your stomach. There he set, staring blankly ahead. “готов соблюдать”  

It is done. Fury is dead. The only person with the power to clear your name was gone. You stood hidden in the hospital where he was taken after James had shot him. From all the activity you knew he was alive when he arrived but as you saw Captain Rogers leave the building you knew he had to be gone. Opening the door in which his body was held you noticed he was absent. The sound the door closing had you spinning on your heal, gun raised at the source. Maria Hill stood arms crossed staring at you. “Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes Stark” Smiling you lowered your gun, putting it back in your waistband, “Can’t complain here. Is there somewhere we can talk?” she nodded, “Meet me in the loading area, make sure no one is following you we don’t want you to blow your cover, yet,” with one last glance she left the room. You waited a few minutes before leaving; walking through the guarded halls unnoticed to the back entrance of the hospital. In the loading bay stood a black unmarked SUV with Hill in the driver’s seat. Once you got in and closed the door, she sped off into the night. “No one followed you right?” “Yes Hill no one followed me. Trust me I would know” you replied looking out the window despondently. “Good. I am taking you to a safehouse that only 4 people know about including you and it needs to stay that way. I am assuming you being at the hospital means you know something about the assassination order?” “I was the one who orchestrated it.” Hill quickly looked away from the road with her eyebrows raised noticing you staring blankly at the passing traffic. The rest of the journey to her safehouse was spent in silence; both agents wondering if they could trust one another. Pulling up to an old bunker of some sort both agents got out of the van Hill finally spoke up “This is to stay between us no one can know” “of course” “Good he will want to see you.” You froze shocked watching her form enter the bunker. Rushing to catch up she took you towards a makeshift medical room with plastic sheets helping to keep the room sterile. In the bed laid Director Fury, still alive.

“The man I would haven taken a bullet for is the one to have called for my death. See this is why I have trust issues,” exclaimed Fury from his bed you were sitting next too. “You do understand what this means Sir, that HYDRA has been within SHIELD this whole time. I am so sorry I could not get the information to you earlier, but I was afraid the line had been compromised.” Hill spoke up from across the room, “Do you know what Project Insight is?” “All I know is that its going to kill anyone HYDRA deems a threat which is millions of innocent people.”  Hill and Fury exchanged a look, “Well it need to be terminated before it’s launched” Fury said. “I can’t help you without burning my cover, what about Natasha and Captain Rogers, can’t they help stop the helicarriers?” “No, they don’t know about the director still being alive yet or about our HYDRA mole” Hill replied. “And it’s to remain that way until we no longer need the intelligence that you can provide. I need you to keep tabs on Pierce until we stop Project Insight. Romanoff and Rogers can’t know my knowledge of HYDRA being in SHIELD or that he oversees the whole thing. You are to keep in contact, and I will give you a rendezvous once HYDRA is thwarted. Until then continue cover,” spoke Fury. Standing up and turning to follow Hill out you stopped and looked Fury in the eyes. “Sir there is one more thing that you should know. The Winter Solider is Sargent James Buchanan Barnes, Captain Rogers old friend. I understand this could be a problem in the coming conflict, he doesn’t know who he is. I do however have a rapport with him that could help but, if Rogers is to find out it would not be good.” Sighing Fury nodded his head heavily at you. With one last look you went back to the only world you know.

It had been 24 hours since the orders had been given for Fury’s death and James had been out of cryo. HYDRA was looking for Rogers and Natasha, it’s only a matter of time till either you or James are to be called in. Walking into the makeshift cell that housed James you dismissed the guards standing watch, you entered. There on his cot he set watching as you made your way towards him. Keeling down in front of him you pretended to scan his arm for issues you spoke in a soft voice that only he could hear “I found a way for us to escape hydra. I need you to trust me though.” James turned to look softly in your eyes. “I know we have talked about it before but this time I know we can make it.” You looked into his eyes as he leaned his head down so that both of your foreheads were touching. “они накажут вас, если нас снова поймают.” “I know but don’t we owe it to ourselves to try?” you turned away from him, looking at the cinder blocked wall. Silent tears came running down your face. “I can’t leave you behind…I just can’t.” You could feel the coldness of his metal hand as he moved your head, so you were once again looking into each other’s eyes. A soft rumbling came from his chest as he spoke. “тогда попробуем, но, если дело доходит до нас двоих, я всегда буду выбирать вас.” Just as you were about to reply James resumed his original position faster than you could blink. The sound of boots reached your ears and you frantically removed any trace of sorrow from your face. James continued to stare straight ahead as Rumlow called for you to join him. Giving James one last look she turned on her heel to follow Rumlow out. “We need your help to run point with the security council. Pierce is having them flown in and wants you there when things go down. I am getting the asset ready to hunt down Cap and the Widow. He was last seen with Zola and Pierce is pissed that he had to destroy Zola,” he spoke leading you out towards cars that would take you to the Triskelion.  

You stood off to the side as the council members began to file in to the meeting room. The only female council member made eye contact with you, the message you had sent to Fury had gone through now all you could do was wait. Once Captain Rogers had finished his speech you knew it was time. Filing in after the other strike members you watched as Natasha took them down. As one began to sneak up behind her you pulled you gun out of its holster and shot him once in the head. “I am sorry did I step on your moment” replied Nat as she removed her disguise. Looking at her then at you Pierce snapped “Well aren’t we full of surprises today. How long have you been with SHIELD?”  “Since the beginning,” pulling your gun from its holster you pointed it at Pierce you watched as Nat started the process of dumping SHIELD and HYDRA’s secrets onto the internet. “It’s going to take two alpha level members to get past the encryption for that information” “Don’t worry company is on it way.” The sound of a helicopter could be heard. Looking out the window you watched as Fury got out and walked towards the doors. “Did you get my flowers?” Fury, ignoring Pierce, continued to walk towards the screen displaying all of shields secrets. You pushed Pierce forward; gun still trained on his back. “We deleted your credentials after you died Nick.” Fury turned to face Pierce and slowly moving his eye-patch over his eye, “In order to stay ahead of me Mr. Secretary you’re going to have to keep both eyes open.” Nat moved forward with her gun pointed at him as well. You both shared a look of mutual understanding, he would not be leaving this room alive. Once the files were upload on the internet it was time to leave before the helicarriers destroyed the surrounding area. As you turned to Fury the sound of the remaining council members crying out in agony sounded in your ears. Nat, Fury, and you had your guns on Pierce in an instant. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. One movement and I put a hole through her sternum.” Fury exchanged a look with Nat and turned to you nodding his head. You bother lowered your weapons. The crashing sound of the helicarriers firing on one another could be heard from within the room. “What a waste, come on council women this way. You are going to fly me out of here,” Pierce began to shuffle Nat towards the helipad doors. “You know there was a time I would have taken a bullet for you,” Fury replied trying to stall for time. As Pierce turned to reply; Nat activated one of her Widow’s Bites, electricity surged through her body disarming the device. Both Fury and you fired one shot into the Secretary. With that shot you were finally free from HYDRA.

January 15th, 2014

The sun shined brightly down on the cemetery. You stood back as Fury went to talk to Rogers and Wilson about joining the two of you to hunt down rouge HYDRA agents. “You know your dad never shuts up about you.” You turn your head to see Natasha walking towards you. “Well some things never change,” you smiled. “Imagine my surprise when Fury told me who you are. I don’t know if you know but a few years back I had to go undercover to look after your dad and in his file, it said you had died in a car crash. I guess Fury gave the idea?” “No, it was my idea. I wanted to be able to be an agent with out him having to worry. Before my grandfather died, he used to tell me stories of SHIELD and I guess they never went away.” Nodding Natasha looked over to the boys talking, “Are you ever going to tell him that your alive? He has a right to know.” “Mm, I know it’s just I don’t think he would ever forgive me for lying and part of me doesn’t want him too. I put him through so much pain.” A calmness settled over the two of you as Fury walked away from the two solders towards the two of you. “Well if you ever need anything you know where to look. Oh, and your secret safe with me,” Natasha smiled walking away to have her turn to talk to the boys. Fury spoke up, “You might want to make introductions with Rogers, they might need your help looking for Barnes. I’ll be in the car it seems Agent Coulson needs our help so make it quick,” he walked away before you could reply. Sighing you made your way over to the two men. “I want to tank you for your help with hydra. We wouldn’t have been able to do it with out you Miss..?” Steve’s voice carried over to you. “Y/N Stark, and you would have been fine without me,” you smiled at his shocked expression. “Stark? I thought Tony didn’t have any siblings and his daughter is dead.” “Well I wouldn’t believe all that you hear Captain. I’m his daughter and I would prefer if we could keep that between us.” Both Steve and Wilson exchanged a look before nodding. “I came over not to tell you my story, but I am but to help your search. I don’t know if Fury told you, but James trained me, and I have a more personal connection with him. If you ever need my help you call me.” You pulled a card from you pocket with a burner phones number written on it. Steve looked down at the card “Personal?” “Well hydra isn’t all sadness and torture.” Sam snorted “I like her.” Steve looked you in the eye “Thank you. Do you have any idea where he might go first” “I would check the bank vault first. Its probably swarming with HYDRA agents though,” you replied before walking towards Fury’s car. “We could use you on our team,” Wilson called out to you. “I already have a team,” you called out before stepping into the car driving you off to your next mission.

готов соблюдать- ready to comply

они накажут вас, если нас снова поймают – they will punish you if we are caught again

тогда попробуем. но если дело доходит до нас двоих, я всегда буду выбирать вас. - Then we’ll try. But if it comes down to the two of us, I will always choose you.

tag list:

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[zukofenty]

off the grid

➜ Summary: The one where Katara is a spoiled heiress who manages to crash land on a (cute) soldier of one of the most dangerous nations in the world. 

“Get your face out of my vagina!” Katara screams at the top of her lungs. 

“Here’s a thought, get your vagina out of my face first!”

➜ Genre: Modern!AU, humor, CEO!Katara, Soldier!Zuko, Crash Landing on You!AU 

➜ Words: 10.3k

AO3 @zutaramonth

“Get your face out of my vagina!” Katara screams at the top of her lungs.

  “Here’s a thought, get your vagina out of my face first!” Zuko yelps, words gargling. He currently was being suffocated by the crotch at his neck. After Katara’s many screams, and a swift kick to his face, they both scrambled off each other, laying on the ground for a quick moment of relief. Her body is aching after throwing herself from the tree she was stuck in. 

  After realization set in that he was a soldier who was just nearly crushed to death by a cooch, and she was a woman who somehow crossed impenetrable borders, they swiftly were both upright. Katara in a fighting stance, and Zuko’s gun automatically pointed at the girl’s face. Her eyes nervously darted around, looking for any escape route in the expanse of wilderness and trees and furry animals she sure were foaming at the mouth, looking for a bite of gorgeous heiress who smelled of Chanel No. 5. 

  “I’m a bad bitch, you can’t kill me!” Katara screeches, taking off as fast as her Yeezys could take her. 

  “Um, yeah I can !” He insists, shooting into her general direction. He wasn’t trying to kill her persay. Maybe maim. (It just would’ve been a lot easier if she died). 

  “Fuck!” he screams, once the girl was out of sight. 

  Last week, Katara was cyberbullying Debby Ryan from the comfort of her penthouse. One of her larger concerns of the week was debating buying the rights to all of her Disney Channel movies, just because she felt like it. Then, she could post clips of her disturbing, Radio Rebel smile every day on Instagram without copyright claims and she could blissfully ignore Debby Ryan DMing her a defamation lawsuit. 

  She had money money . Like being able to turn on the AC during the summer type of wealthy. The type of rich that could sing John Lennon’s Imagine during any crisis and say that’s enough activism for today . After all, she was an heiress of one of the richest families in the Water Tribes—a nation at the forefront of nearly every cultural conversation. In the past, every other nation out there doubted their abilities based on size alone, underestimating the tribes’ growing force. Once a nation surviving on simply hope to prosper post 100 Years War, they were now a cultural powerhouse you couldn’t ignore if you tried. From their dramas, skincare routines, and exquisite cuisine (two-headed fish soup and all), the nation was suddenly the talk of the entire world. They thrived under people’s ignorant assumptions. Blossomed despite people’s mistreatment of them in the media. Soon enough, those who questioned their authority were begging for alliances. 

  Except for the Fire Nation. A nation stuck so determinedly in the past. Notorious for their inability to move on from the world of centuries ago. The world where the Fire Nation was a dominating force. While every nation competed to innovate, the Fire Nation seemingly refused to accept reality. Their borders were violently closed off. Their trade was limited to working with the Earth Nation every once in a blue moon. Refugees who manage to escape tell stories of a cruel life seemingly stuck in the stone ages. Their leader, Azulon, threatens to bomb somewhere, something, someone every other week, and every nation’s relationship with them has remained precariously in the air since then. 

  “What the actual fuck !” She screeches. “I thought this was one of those national parks joggers find bodies in, not the fucking Fire Nation !” 

  Dead or alive, people weren’t allowed to make it out of the Fire Nation. 

  Katara was a stubborn CEO. The kind to only accept things by her way, by her standards. Coming from money didn’t mean shit when you didn’t have the raw hunger she had. She wasn’t like many of her peers. She wasn’t content with just sitting back and signing a few papers once in a while so she could make it to her SoulCycle class. But, she’d like to think that’s what made her so successful for the last decade. Katara was insistent on testing her clothing company’s new batch of athletic clothing. She scaled a mountain range in the sweat resistant hoodie. She swam in Olympic sized pools in their innovative, competition ready swimsuit and swim cap matching set. Of course, it made sense to test their new paragliding uniform. At the time. 

  “ Don’t move. This field is full of landmines,” Zuko warns, putting out his hand to stop the shaking girl. He sees it in her eyes, the way she’s about to run after he’s managed to catch up to her, and unknowingly blow this entire shit up. “They’re grey and round, or shaped like a box that—” 

  “Like the one you’re stepping on, right now?” Katara smirks, hands coming to her hips to taunt him.

  He freezes, hands coming out to balance himself at the edge of the stream she’s managed to leap across. 

  “Again, I am a bad bitch. These won’t kill me. You won’t kill me.” She snatches his walkie talkie from his jacket’s pocket, and thinks about just taking it and letting the guy who almost fucking shot her suffer. She decides against it (she didn’t want to get on God’s, or Rihanna’s, bad side today) and sets it down on the ground in front of him. He’s left to watch her expertly leap around a few stray explosives. 

  “If ‘bad bitch’ means missing a few limbs, sure. Go ahead ,” Zuko baits. She happily gives him the bird, before running as fast as she could in her Yeezy Boost 350s. Running even when she hears gunshots whizzing past her. Running even when she sees a sign, warning about a field of landmines. 

  She runs until her vision becomes blurry, and all she can hear are little children chanting a song about the Fire Nation’s greatness. She runs, even when her body feels like lead, and her eyes are a hair’s breadth away from shutting. 

  //

  He doesn’t know why he helps her. Why he wants her to get out of here alive. Why he scoops her up once soldiers began flooding the village she stumbled upon. They were making sure everyone was doing their part in singing the national anthem before the enforced curfew. She should’ve been shot to death by now by his men, or at least mauled by a wild lion vulture. 

  He just doesn’t understand it. Their forces were meant to kill , trained to shoot anything at the border on sight. He doesn’t understand how this five foot nothing girl had outrun men who have trained in the military for nearly their whole lives. His army was sloppy that day. Most of them were still drunk off of whatever cactus juice and homemade wine combination the ladies at the local village had offered to them. Then again, it wasn’t every day someone decided to paraglide during the biggest storm of the decade. It wasn’t every day someone managed to cross into the Fire Nation, when no one wanted to be there for decades . 

  He doesn’t understand why he pulled her close to his body at the sight of the military’s trucks, and runs them into his house at the edge of the hill. He doesn’t understand why he spent the last three hours painstakingly cooking up noodles from scratch for her. She takes a quick nap on an old sleeping mat he found while he works diligently. His stomach protests the fragrant aroma. He hasn’t eaten a homemade meal in months. 

  “People literally steal and sell my pubic hairs on eBay. The average price is one grand for a single strand. I deserve better,” Katara says. He thinks it’s completely in jest. She cackles when he glares at her. The smile she sends him tries to relay that she's grateful, but he’s hardly swayed by her charms. Instead, he’s scoffing at the efforts.

  A first for her. 

  She’s used to getting her way, as an expert at manipulation. When you’ve spent your whole life ruthlessly competing to run one of the largest corporations in the world, you couldn’t afford to be sweet or gentle or genuine. You learned to work people, bend them to your will until they snap. Then, you move on. Find someone else, do the old song and dance again. 

  Before she could even lift a chopstick, Zuko quickly grabs the bowl from her grasp, a pout forming on his lips. While he was always taught to school his features, he always knew he was no good at it. 

  “I will continue to do what I’ve been doing for the last two hours, and just ignore everything you’ve been saying,” he mutters, sipping at the broth to her dismay. The second she walked in, she called his house “a hut with a dick in it.” When he instructed her to take a shit in the outhouse, she didn't speak to him for the next hour. He thinks he saw her tear up when he mentioned there was no Internet. He swears he was ten seconds away from busting a vein. 

  “ Ugh . Room temperature water?” Zuko guffaws once her nose crinkles up in disgust.

  He blows a stray strand of his hair away from his face. “There are no ice cubes.” She hates how everything he says is so matter of fact. 

  “Get some, then.” she says, as though it was the most obvious answer in the world. “I don’t drink ice cube-less water.”

  He just laughs. “Right, when we get any sort of electricity first, I’ll make it my number one priority to get a fridge that dispenses ice cubes engraved with your perfectly detailed portrait on them, too.” 

  Katara shoves at him, and he just stares at the spot on his chest she touched. “For future reference, I am vegan. Well, vegan adjacent. But still. The point is I am a delicate flower with an even more delicate diet. A delicate flower that’s used to caviar and organic shit and the rich people gluten-free bread you get from Trader Joe’s. So I’ll excuse it this time, but the next time  you make something please remember.” She follows up the command with a sweet smile, as though it made up for her demands.  

  The memory of her dodging bullets with a branch in her hair easily comes up in his mind. “Nothing about you is delicate.” Zuko barely budges when she tries reaching for the bowl again. 

  Katara gasps. “Even my bowel movements are delicate!” 

  He just snorts. 

  She’s annoying, he decides. All brattiness considered. Even with her tiny frame drowning in her dirty paragliding uniform, and a pout that has him wanting to laugh. The way she moves is dainty, with the self-assurance only those who grew up in comfort have. But, something about her eyes reveal something crueler, something so much more vicious underneath the soft exterior. 

  He was thoroughly out of options. While he has her holed up in his house until they decide an escape route, he feels his stomach churning at the thought of the Fire Nation’s regular surprise house inspections. Turning her over to the government meant a quick and easy execution for him and his men without question, and the potential to cause even more political strain with the rest of the world. Even if they do hand her to the government, there’s no telling what they would do to her. 

  He tries to blink the sleep out of his eyes, rubbing at them as thought it could end the nightmare he found himself trapped in.  

  For the last few years, Zuko’s life was a monotonous routine.  

  “Type 63 Rifle, Soviet SKS carbine,” Zuko breathes, ears perking up at the sound of the weapon. His hand comes out to halt the hordes of men. “One of us. Retreat,” he barked, arms  motioning for his battalion to return to their hidden positions among the dwindling flora and fauna. Months in his uniform without rest, months spent guarding the border to ensure no one left. 

  He doesn’t remember much about his life before this. He tries to forget, because it made him too sad. It made him want to do something reckless, to break something, to even cry , because he’s long forgotten anything but getting up, getting into uniform, getting into routine. 

  It was his duty, as the only son of the Fire Nation’s notorious military director. 

  He was trained to be a war wielding machine. To show no mercy. Men in the Fire Nation weren’t meant to be weak . They weren’t allowed to be soft. 

  His mother tried to get away from all of it. She tried as hard as she could to tell her children there was a life you could feel beat with all of your heart, as long as cruelty didn’t find it first. She knew Zuko wasn’t meant for this life. 

  Zuko knew, too. 

  He was never good at anything, never the best one growing up. While he excelled at delivering blows, or wielding his swords, he was always told his mind was a pathetic thing. Too brash, too naive. Azula was always the better one at that. At violence. She was their father’s right hand, her thoughts filled to the brim with genius strategy. Always one step ahead of everyone else, even as a toddler. 

  Zuko was content to be in the background, to be nothing more than a decoration when the family portrait needed to be taken. He wants to be selfish, to blame Azula for pressing pause on his life. The day she was assassinated was the day his dreams of forgetting the Fire Nation all but shriveled up. After all, tradition mandated the military director had a blood successor. 

  //

  “I am not going to put back on my dirty underwear after I shower! I am not a Bhad Bhabie type of bitch,” Katara indignantly spits out, crossing her arms over her chest. 

  Zuko rolls his eyes. Everything she says is confusing . 

  “Don’t act up while I’m gone,” Zuko begs. 

  “Like the City Girls?” 

  She feels her blood boil at his silence. 

  “Please tell me you’re lying. Please tell me you’ve heard of ‘Act Up.’ Please. Don’t let me down now.” 

  “I have no—” 

  “Seriously, where were you all summer? ‘Act up, you can get snatched up?’ Nothing? Nothing rings a fucking bell?” He can’t help but sweat.

  Even when he looked up whatever she says on his work computer (the only time people in the Fire Nation were allowed to use the Internet) he still can’t wrap his head around what exactly a Bhad Bhabie was.  

  “Then don’t wear underwear. I don’t know what else to tell you.” 

  She holds the landline phone close to her mouth, as if to make the message clearer. “Where will the pussy juices go then!” 

  Zuko hangs up on her, only to have her call him precisely 12 minutes later. 

  “My right nipple is chafing. What about my nipple eczema!” She protests. She feels her face shriveling up. Without her Yves Saint Laurent Firming Serum, she feels like a piece of her identity was missing. He had diligently informed her to use his sole bar of soap for all purposes before he left for work, and she nearly fainted on the spot. 

  “Tell it to go away, I guess?” Zuko suggests, trying his hardest to sound helpful. He tried leaving detailed notes on how to take a hot bath by pouring boiling water in his basin, and clipping the plastic shower curtain to the ceiling, trapping the heat in. He prays she hasn’t burned down his house, or someone hasn’t seen her through the gate.

  “I can’t!” Katara seethes. 

  Zuko rubs at his temples. “This was meant for only emergencies. Goodbye !” Zuko slams the phone, returning to his paperwork. He feels a hot blush spreading across his cheeks, and tries to bring his hand up to his face to alleviate the warm feeling.

  //

  She doesn’t know why he’s so nice to her. 

  When she’s all but threatened him and blackmailed his entire crew to keep their silence and help her escape.

  She simply laughs, the sound foreign to even her own ears. Her empty stomach painfully clenched in protest at the sudden sensation. It had to be some sort of sick joke. A sick fucking joke probably crafted up by Pakku! Or some of those man-children from the Northern Tribes who think they know a thing or two because they took a Marketing 101 crash course on Khan Academy! 

  She needed to get back for the big shareholders meeting. They were going to announce the new CEO of Moon Tech, the largest corporation in the Water Tribes. It was everything she had been working for her entire life. She couldn’t afford to miss it, lest it show any weakness whatsoever. As the most viable successor, she was sure all eyes were watching her every move. Yet, somehow, she managed to end up on the set of a period piece gone wrong. A miserable, yet probably Academy Award winning, period piece that smelled like moose knuckle pussy pickle. 

  She looked to the closed door, the flimsy thing separating the minute living room from his even smaller bedroom. She felt guilty for misjudging him upon their first meeting. 

  She thinks she feels more guilty for breaking his favorite vase. 

  “C’mon! That was my favorite ficus,” he grumbles, rubbing the spot on his head she broke the vase on. He avoids her gaze because she’s clad in one of his old dress shirts and nothing else, the thing coming to fall at her knees. If he blushes any harder, he thinks she might notice. Her hair is wrapped up in a messy updo and her face is scrubbed clean. The faintest tint of pink dusts across her cheeks. 

  “Sorry,” she whispers, hand coming to rub at the spot. She was nervous hearing someone wiggle the doorknob when he hadn’t come back well into the night. Why he had three locks on his door and used exactly none of them, she wasn’t quite sure. She thought she was being helpful by locking his doors. Until it was becoming apparent he didn’t care enough to carry his keys with him, and had an additional unlocked back door he was just attacked at. 

  He swats her away swiftly, body mechanically programmed to attack for coming so close to him. He’s body slammed bigger men for breathing through their mouths. But something stops him abruptly, and he stills when she comes closer, roughly grabbing at his head between her two hands, and bringing it to her eye level. “A slight bump will form, but it’ll go away faster if you soak some rice and press here,” she precisely finds the swelling area. He winces when he feels the pressure. 

  Her eyes are impossibly wide while she watches him, and he can’t help but shrink at her careful stare. This was the quietest she’s been since she crash landed. He feels unsettled. ��I—I got you some stuff.” He places the bag gently in front of her, a now familiar flush coming to pepper his cheeks. “I’m going to go to bed now,” he lies, retreating to his room while still rubbing at his head.

  “Thanks,” her voice is barely a whisper, and stops him in his tracks. He turns to her, and her smile is so genuine. Her eyes are swelling with joy and it makes his heart ache. It seemed easier to talk to her that night than in the day. There wasn’t an impossible front to break open to see how she was feeling, the moonlight peeking through the cracks in the wall seemed to make her eyes wider, smile brighter even. Her guard is down and it makes emotions easier to decipher. 

  She thinks she can’t feel her face when she opens the bag. “I’m such a bitch,” she babbles to herself as she opens the boxes of shampoo, conditioner, and even signature Water Tribe moisturizers. Everything she complained about he managed to remember to a T. He even got her some traditional Fire Nation women’s outfits, even when she was only staying for the next couple of days. The tears pricking at her eyes feel foreign. She could afford private jets to fly to Beverly Hills and start a fist fight with Kim Kardashian just because she hit Kourtney in season 18. A couple dollars worth of smuggled products shouldn’t make her a weepy mess.  Somehow though, she feels herself unable to dim the smile plastered across her face. 

  Zuko wants to jump for joy. Though, he resists the urge when getting up too fast makes his head bump feel like it has a second heartbeat. He spent the better part of his evening at the open air marketplace a few blocks from the village. It was worth enduring the questioning glances from the shop vendors. Even when he felt like crawling in a hole and dying as he hastily gestured he wanted to purchase women’s underwear, it was all worth it when he’s lulled to sleep to the sound of Katara’s giggles. 

  //

  “I think he just smiled.” Mako whisper-screams. Nearly all the jaws in the mess hall drop open. 

  “You’re lying ,” a voice squeaks out. The dozens of heads seem to collectively turn towards their captain. Their stomachs churned at seeing living proof of the small smirk on his face. He’s distracted. Staring off into the distance, he’s just picking at the meager helpings of his lunch on his plate. 

  For all intents and purposes, Zuko was boring . He was a stick in the mud, the kind of guy you saw laugh once or twice a year for obligatory purposes, just to make sure everyone knew he wasn’t a robot assigned by the government to spy on soldiers. 

  He was a captain who delivered orders, and nothing more. A strict, by the book kind of guy. The team knew little to nothing about him. They weren’t even sure he used the bathroom like a normal human being (half of them were betting money on the robot theory). They just weren’t close like that. They weren’t the type of team to be able to joke around with their captain, share their stories, bleed their heart out on the military field. They knew the scar on his face meant he had pissed off some higher ranking officials who still possessed the power to firebend, a sacred art limited to the few. It meant there was more to the story than just a bumbling captain of a lower ranked crew. The most they got out of him was once in a while he would startle a young kid, who was just trying to get his mandated service over with. He’d clap them on the shoulder and would murmur a low “Good job.” (His definition of keeping up team morale). 

  He was efficient at his job, and good at keeping his men safe, rarely raising his voice to anyone except maybe himself. More than what they could say for other captains. He was hard on his men, but harder on himself. It was rare to see him doing anything but stress . 

  Smiling ? Simply out of the question. 

  He couldn’t help it! It was an automatic reaction to the morning he had. 

  “Thank you, for everything,” Katara says quietly, placing the tray of food on his night stand. She knew he had to get to the military base in the wee hours of the morning, and also knew she wasn’t going to wake up in time without her vibrating mattress alarm clock. So she pulls an all nighter, and tries to figure out how to use the tools and contraptions at her disposal. She didn’t mean to startle him, she swears. She has to stifle a laugh when he wakes up with a start. Eyes slowly peeling open, the eye crust obstructing his view. His hair is facing every which way. He looks younger, somehow. The messy hair, the wrinkled shirt, and drool he makes a quick job of wiping away. 

  “What’s this?” He peers up at her curiously, placing the tray in his lap. 

  “My labor of love.” She insists, sitting even closer to him on his bed. She thinks she likes it when he squirms under her gaze. For all the military get up with metallic shoulders, and the endless medals pinned to his uniforms, he was just a boy under it all. “I know, I haven’t been the most...easy guest to have.” She ignores his snort. “After all of this over, after the Fire Nation opens up its borders again, I promise you. I will pay you ten times what this hut with a dick is worth. Because…” she breathes in, looking unsure of herself. “I’ll never forget your kindness.” 

  “T—Thank you,” he stutters. He thinks they’re empty promises, but doesn’t try to question them too hard. It shouldn’t be possible for his heart to pulse as fast as it does, but it seems to be mesmerized by how much wider her smile was able to get. The noodles are misshapen, probably because of her inexperience with the old-fashioned machine. The broth is salty and makes Zuko’s throat beg for a glass of water. And yet, he slurps up the entire dish without complaint. 

  Anything to see her eyes light up. 

  //

  “The first boob I ever saw was in Titanic . Haven’t seen one since. Waiting for Titanic 2 to come out.” Mako says proudly, puffing out his chest. He hoped his extensive knowledge of non-Fire Nation films would entertain Katara. Zuko’s few trusted men (mainly the ones who were responsible for letting her escape in the first place) were instructed to keep her safe while he sorted out the plans for her escape. Iroh was able to set up a clandestine arrangement with a ship leaving the Fire Nation docks for their semi annual pickup of Earth Nation goods. They were hoping she could sneak through to the Earth Nation, and explain her situation with customs there. 

  “Buddy, I got some news for you.” Katara smirks, and the boys grow nervous. She was pretty. The type of pretty that made people stare, wondering if it was possible for someone’s eyes to twinkle in the sunlight. She looked like one of those celebrities in the movies he loved. Talked like one, too. In the Fire Nation, she was the type of pretty where guys would be bartering an entire village just to get a chance to look at her. Though, just from talking with her, she seemed like the type of girl who would hide in her house after gaining said village, just to spite them. 

  Mako was curious about the Water Nation. Their schools taught them that Azulon was an elite magical creature that somehow never needed to take a shit, and people in the other nations defecated three times the amount of Fire Nation folk. He always knew something was up. Everyone was constantly smuggling goods from all the other nations, especially from the Water Nation. There were automatic rice cookers that played a song when it finished making perfect rice, and little boxes that could play music when you press it. Mako always knew there was so much more out there than people in the Fire Nation could ever know.  

  She tells them stories of her life in the Water Tribes as they wait for Zuko, and she pointedly ignores the scoffs and disbelief. “There are toilets that shoot out water into your ass crack to clean it?” 

  “You can adjust the settings and everything!” She proclaims, pride filling every one of her words. “Warm, cool, even inconsistent spurts if you’re into that shit.” 

  They all make a noise of amazement. “That’s incredible .” She talks about sky rises, and business meetings with rich people, and showers that turn on with a drop of a hat. 

  “What’s a Rihanna again? Is that your God?” 

  “Yes.” Katara answers, with no hesitation. “See, she is the baddest in the land—” 

  “Wait!” Bolin abruptly stops her. “I thought that was your God...Megan Thee Stallion?” 

  “She’s the thiccest of them all.” Katara punctuated with a click of her tongue. “I thought we went over this!” 

  “Sorry,” they grunt, looking especially sheepish. 

  “What does she preach?” Kai inquires, eyes growing wide with delight. 

  Katara taps her lip, eyes coming up to the ceiling trying to concentrate. “She’s a goddess who empowers women! She tries to get everyone to build their knee strength. I think one of her sayings is ‘I need a Mr. Clean, make that pussy beam,’” Katara . 

  Zuko watches on, leaning on the door frame. He wants to hate the fact that he’ll miss her. 

  //

 Everything was supposed to be easy at this point. 

  “Don’t forget about me.” She holds onto his arm as they sit against the edge of the fishing vessel, the waves impatiently slapping against them. He was supposed to bid her farewell at the dock, but something in him wanted to guarantee she was able to get on the second boat to the Earth Nation. 

  He’s still clad in one of his more formal uniforms. He still feels the chill of the night scraping through the fabric of his double breasted blazer. 

  Katara openly welcomes the cold, after nearly sweltering to death every second she’s been in the Fire Nation. 

  He lets his smile reach his eyes. “How could I forget a girl who nearly crushed me to death with her crotch.” 

  Her guffaw has the captain, Jeong Jeong, even startled. “Right.” She looks off into the distance, and can’t remember a time when she’s ever been surrounded by this much water. “My name’s Katara, by the way.” 

  Zuko feels a pang in his chest. “Zuko.” 

  “Nice to meet you, Zuko,” she whispers, holding her hand out to shake his. It feels warm when he grabs at the dainty thing. 

  “I hope we meet again. Maybe, in another life, Katara.” 

  “Really?” For a moment, he hears a twinge of sadness in her voice. It could be his mind or his heart making it up, but he swears he hears it.

  “Really.” 

  Everything was going according to plan. Everything was supposed to go smoothly. 

  Until they’re both panic-sweating underneath the ship in its cargo hold, trying to come up with a plan to fend off the Coast Guard officers stopping all ships sailing past curfew. 

  “Do something! Doesn’t the military tell you to do something in this case? Or are you guys just trained in the art of being ugly and having anger issues?” 

  Zuko wracks his brain. “Why don’t you help me?” 

  “What happens if I don’t?” Katara angrily mutters. 

  “You’ll deal with the consequences,” Zuko shrugs, too entirely calm. He was a natural in intense situations, but even he could feel his hands shaking. 

  “That’s just diet ‘ I hope this bitch dies !’”

  “Oops,” Zuko sneers. 

  Katara huffs. “The fact that men can breathe just doesn’t sit right with my soul.” Katara wants to strangle him. 

  A lightbulb seemingly goes off in his head. Something Mako said about the non-Fire Nation  films and stories was always a fool proof “Get out of jail” card. 

  “Kiss me,” he says without any uncertainty. 

  “Are you huffing cactus juice, bitch?” 

  “Just do it!” Zuko practically screams when he hears the door opening. She presses her lips to his chapped ones, and his hands naturally come to her waist. He’s lost in the feeling of her plush lips, how incredibly soft her body was that he ignores the screams of Coast Guard officers. 

  “What the fuck was that!” They question Jeong Jeong, who simply shrugs. The officers promptly drop the cargo door in shock. 

  She slaps his face, his cheek already reddening in mere moments. 

  “What was that for?” Zuko grumbles, stroking his face. 

  “You’re a freak!” 

  He narrows his eyes. “I prefer a ‘you’re welcome,’ but that doesn’t seem to be in your vocabulary.” He felt like his entire body was tingling, but Katara could only focus on the fact he was swiping at his lips with the back of his hand. 

  “Hey! You should be thanking Rihanna you got a chance to kiss me! If you weren’t so colonized you would realize I am one of the most beautiful women in the world!” Katara petulantly reminds.

  “I think it’s because you got diarrhea all over my one of my favorite t-shirts that I am doubting that claim.” 

  Katara sulks, confident form shrinking. “I forgot to boil the water one time, sue me.” 

  He can’t stop his laugh from taking over his whole body. He’s about to help her up when he hears, “Open it up again!” 

  This time, Katara fully pushes him down among the boxes of cargo, straddling his lap, and violently mashes her lips to his. 

  “Get the fuck up here!” Someone screams. Katara lets up on the kiss so Zuko could peer up at the officers. He feels his ears overheating.

  “She’s my fiancé.” He hastily explains, once they were on deck. In between their masks, they stare down at Katara, who bites on her tongue, and puts up an act of a bashful bride-to-be. She holds onto his arm with a vice grip, ducking her head behind his broad shoulders. 

  “They were going on a romantic sight seeing trip,” Jeong Jeong provides, sweat beating down his back. 

  Katara nods enthusiastically. “We just couldn’t wait for the wedding to have a little fun .” She grins intenerally at their coughs of discomfort and Zuko’s bewildered gaze. 

  They check Zuko’s identification card, before nodding in understanding. 

  “Fine,” one officer bites out. He stares at Katara for a beat too long as though he’s reading her thoughts. It makes her uneasy. “Turn it back, and don’t come out past curfew anymore. They’ve implemented new standards for ships.” Jeong Jeong nods in understanding, and jumps to the helm in no time. But, Zuko could sense the panic vibrating off of Katara. 

  She turns to see the second ship waiting in the distance, her ticket to freedom a few feet away. 

  “We’re not done with date night!” She insists, coming out to try to stop the officer. Zuko holds her back, eyes pleading with her. “But—I—there has to be some other way.” She’s shaking like a leaf, even when Zuko throws his blazer over her bare shoulders. 

  //

  “I can’t believe I’m going to be stuck feeding him heartburn medication like they are tic tacs,” Katara says to no one. She’s pacing nervously around the living room, and Zuko’s trying his best to come up with something to comfort her. His head is in his hands, and he’s since loosened his top knot to let his hair fall. 

  “Katara, I am only two years older than you,” he gently reminds. 

  “...And then I heard dentures always smell no matter how hard you clean them.” 

  “Katara I swear—,” 

  She gasps. “Oh my god, we have to start thinking of retirement homes.”  

  Things were supposed to be easy. 

  A spontaneous house check was something the village’s residents were accustomed to. They gathered outside their homes as soldiers began rifling through their things. Parents simply stood about, discussing the new books they had to buy for their kids for the upcoming semester. 

  Nothing was entirely out of the blue. Yet, the elusive military captain just had to show up to the front of his house, hand in hand with a blue-eyed girl. 

  A gun was promptly pointed in her face. “Oh shit. Bitch, not this again.” 

  “This house was registered for one resident.” General Zhao’s lip curls. “State your name and occupation.” 

  General Zhao had overheard a certain military director’s son was busted trying to get some punani on the seven seas. 

  It’s not that he hated Zuko, per say. Their relationship was more of a “ regularly abusing Zuko’s privacy to fulfill a personal agenda because of the bloodthirsty desire for power ” type of thing. Normal things. Maybe , it was influenced by the fact he got wind of Zuko pressuring his higher ups to further investigate his sister’s assasination. He wasn’t entirely sure. 

  “Look here, I have information that could lead to the arrest of Nicki Minaj. So why don’t you, I don’t know. Let me go ! I promise I’ll tell you everything I know about Ms. Nincki,” she lowly breathes, a suggestive waggle of her eyebrows only making the soldiers around her even more heated. 

  “Shut the fuck up!” A soldier screams behind her, poking her head with the gun. Katara couldn’t help the whimper that passed her lips. For the first time in her life, she thinks she feels genuine fear. 

  Zuko pushes past the guards holding him back, throwing them to the ground. Without missing a beat, he takes her hand in his. “Get your fucking gun out of my fiancé’s face!” He roars. Gasps reverberate around the villagers. This was the loudest and longest they’ve ever heard Zuko speak. “She works for the government as part of Division 11,” he explains, letting his voice settle into its usual rasp. Everybody visibly recoils. 

  A highly secretive sector of the government virtually no one , not even General Zhao had access to. They were agents deployed in different nations, with the goal of collecting information about the culture. It would’ve explained Katara’s Water Tribe accent, and the lack of her identification papers. 

  General Zhao pushes past Zuko, staring him down and grumbling with his men following behind. 

  The women of the village instantly make way to collect around Katara. Noses turned up at her like she was shit on a brick. No, they couldn’t give a shit about her. They had rushed into their houses after the announcement, and came back to ply Zuko with trays of food. 

  “For our handsome Zuko finally getting hitched!” The fake smiles make Katara want to stab herself. She swiftly reaches for Zuko’s hand, much to his confusion, and lays her head on his shoulder. 

  “Baby, let’s go inside. I’m cold,” she feigns through her teeth. Her puppy dog eyes make him feel like he’s in high school. He numbly nods. 

  She thinks she hears someone’s grandma calling her a slut. 

  //

  “Pick your head up king, your hairline is receding,” Katara worries her lip at seeing his current state. She doesn’t think he’s slept all night, and he has papers and maps with highlighter marks and red circles all around him on his bed. 

  It’s been a few days since his big announcement to the village, and it feels better to be able to get outside. Breathe from the confines from Zuko’s dingy house. Even among the whispers and stares from people, the villagers weren’t all bad. The women sometimes drop by to invite her over to cook with them, and the kids bring her only the nicer rocks they’ve managed to dig through the dirt for. 

  “I just want to get you home.” He practically grunts. She’s holding a cup of tea for him, and he gulps it down as if it was Rihanna’s boob sweat. “I don’t want you to stay here for even a second longer.” 

  “Thanks!” Katara sends him a sardonic smile. 

  Fuck . He always knew how to put his foot in his mouth when he’s around her. “No, uh. Not like that. This place is a hell hole, and I just want you to get back. It’s not safe for you, for anyone here.” She pats his back gently when he starts choking on the tea, trying to get all his words out. He’s so sweet, the way he just quietly tries to draft out a plan while he thinks she’s asleep. She hears him curse whenever a pen snaps with the pressure he applies. With how many times he sighs through the night, she feels guilty. 

  She’s entirely too comfortable around Zuko, he decides. She lays in bed next to him and he hopes she doesn't notice the way he’s grown warm with her presence. He craves it too much these days. “You know what, the one thing I’ve learned through all of this is that the first thing I’m going to do when I come back is shutting down Chrissy Teigen’s Twitter.” 

  “Not visit your friends and family?” Zuko asks, amusement dancing across his features. 

  “That can come second,” Katara asserts. 

  Life wasn’t completely terrible. Sure, she cries the moment Zuko leaves the house because she’s sure she’s going to die in this shit fuck of place and never get to her money’s worth of her one year HelloFresh subscription. But she has complete faith in Zuko’s abilities. 

  “It’s like during The Amazing Race Season 17 when those two vegetarian doctors ate a goat’s head to win. I think their names were Kat and Nat.” 

  “The point?” Zuko tries his best to sound exasperated. 

  “The point is, I’ll learn how to adapt for the next week or so. I promise, it’s not all that terrible!” Zuko doesn’t trust her uneasy, twitching eyes, but nods all the same. 

  “Hold my hand, motherfucker!” She beams under the attention of the villagers, most of them scoffing when she does her daily send off routine. When Zuko leaves for work, she is insistent on performing their cute couple duties to piss off old people (her other favorite pastime). “Did you remember to bring your water bottle today, stupid bitch?” 

  “I think I’d like this more if you asked nicely,” he groused. He likes how small her hand fits in his, but he thinks he’ll boil shoelaces and eat them before he would admit it. 

  She’s made one friend, at least. Ty Lee, a girl whose parents are trying to marry her off by the next summer. The older women side eyed her just the same, thinking her big ole titties were too big of a distraction among the eligible men in the village. 

  “It came as a shock to us, we still think Zuko is a robot,” Ty Lee admits over a bowl of beef stew. Katara nearly chokes at the spice level. “It’s too bad you’re marrying a lower ranked officer. I know this guy who’s way up there! You could do so much better . I think his name’s Chan!” 

  “So, Zuko’s basically a nobody here?” 

  “Pretty much,” the girl states it like it’s a known fact. “He doesn’t do much, to be honest. But he’s all the old ladies’ favorites because he’s cute and moody . Fuck that, give me communication , you know what I mean?”

  Katara could already feel the cogs whirring to life in her brain. “Thanks for letting me know, Ty Lee!” Her chirpy tone has the girl smiling as well. Good, her acting skills haven’t gone rusty. “How come when Zuko makes beef stew, it’s never spicy?” She wipes her nose with a napkin Ty Lee had given her after noticing the impending waterfall of snot. 

  Ty Lee ponders it for a second. “Sorry, babe. This is the most mild recipe you can make in the Fire Nation. I didn’t realize you couldn't handle it. Maybe he’s just remixing a classic?” 

  Katara tries to hold back her smile. “Yeah, maybe.” 

  //

  “Babies are broke,” Katara glares at the child in her lap, who only curls in closer to her.  

  “Oh my god.” Zuko lets the little boy play with his hair when he wasn’t suffocating Katara’s neck with his other arm. 

  “They live in your head and your house rent free. And then they have the audacity to stare at you in their weak ass outfits,” she points out. They’re both squeezed together on a sofa barely holding itself together, and forced to watch over the birthday boy. 

  “Don’t be mad. It’s entirely your fault Chungha’s kid laughed so hard it barfed on you.” 

  Katara’s exhausted laugh makes Zuko forget his tiredness all the same. “Don’t call the baby an ‘it!’”

  Zuko lets the kid bite on his finger, and grabs him from Katara’s hands when he begins tugging on her dress straps. “I still can’t believe you taught Chungha’s daughter to ‘not be the bigger person, and punch a bitch!’ And Chungha still invited you to her son’s party.”

  “Talk shit, get hit. Basic stuff.”

  He had to admit, coming home and immediately being dragged to a baby’s birthday celebration was not how he saw his night going. Especially after hours of grueling paperwork. 

  “He’s two ,” Zuko lets out an annoyed huff.  

  “And what about it, bitch?” Katara growls. She has her hair in a complicated updo, complete with the Fire Nation hair ties he recently picked up for her. 

  He tries to hide the fact he enjoys this far too much. Domestic things. Things like coming home from work to banter with her. Cooking for Katara while she’s busy socializing with the older wives. He heard from Mako that Katara spends most of her day with the married women. Her plan was to try to move him up the ranks of the military ladder by getting to the lieutenant’s wives first. 

  When she’s home and finished washing up, she takes his dress shirts as though they were her’s and wears them to bed. After she’s passed out on the sleeping mat in the living room, he makes it a habit to carry her to the mattress in his room. 

  “My bad back likes the hard floor,” he would insist when she would protest. 

  He thinks he’s a goner when she even starts trying to make Fire Nation snacks for his lunches. He packs them himself, but somehow misses the minute containers that make their way into his pail. Even if the container somehow always breaks because she forgets to close it properly and he ends the day smelling like fish sauce, he likes it. 

  He knows he must be fucking crazy, pretending this was all real. Maybe he was delusional and reading too much into her actions. Maybe he was a fucking idiot. But for a moment, it was easy to pretend he’s a few months away from marrying a pretty girl. A pretty girl busy spending the night playing around with babies they could one day have together. 

  He shakes the thought from his head, physically moving his head to make it permeate even deeper. She was going to be back home, safe and sound soon. It was better not to get attached. 

  She makes it so fucking hard, though. Especially when she’s wiping away at the creases in his brow before bed. Or asking him through the closed bedroom door to tell her it’s going to be ok, to talk to her until she falls asleep because she likes the sound of his voice.

  //

  She’s a stone cold bitch. A bitch that could fight with her Swarovski crystal acrylics, and come out virtually unscathed. Someone needs to explain to her exactly why she was crying like a James Charles fake apology video for being a racist at the sight of Chungha’s kid bouncing about, flinging his boogers in her face.

  “Maybe if I pray to Azulon hard enough, you guys could have your own little bundle of joy soon!” Chungha exclaims, holding the baby as tight as she could.

  After all, when you almost lose a kid, every moment you’re blessed with their breath never feels like enough. You never want to spend another moment away from them. It’s a miracle his fever broke in time for his birthday. Their family couldn’t afford to go to the doctor, with hospitals being a four hour bike ride away. 

  “Yeah, sure.” Katara barely could hear her over Yoonjn’s gleeful squeals. 

  “I’ll tell Bomi to pray for you guys, too. After what Azulon did for her little Sana, you’ll be pregnant in no time!” 

  Katara just squeezes at the baby’s chubby cheek. 

  //

  “You’re going to kill yourself.” Katara flinches at Zuko’s voice piercing through the quiet night. He’s leaning up against the wall, and emerges from the shadows because he’s dramatic and needed the added effect. She doesn’t miss the way he limps while clutching his side. 

  “Shut up .” She throws her straw hat at the ground, and flings herself across the sleeping mat, face down. “I’ve had a long night.” 

  He wants to be angry with her. He wants to scream at her. He was livid . 

  “What if you got caught, huh? You could’ve been executed .” Zuko knew it wasn’t a coincidence. That the rumors of a spirit going around healing people in the village coincided with someone’s sudden appearance. He thinks the sight of Katara effortlessly waterbending is permanently etched into his memory. The way her face was blissed out, the element easily submitting to her every will. 

  Katara knows he’s just worried for her. She knows the occasional rustle of the branches was more than a breeze. But, all she sees is red. “Sounds rich, coming from you ! What’s your name again? Sorry, my bad. I didn’t know ‘The Blue Spirit’ was a silent vowel in the name ‘Zuko!’”

  He waits a beat, before turning to face her. She has his mask in hand, an angry glare screwing her features. 

  “How did you—who did—?” His brain was apparently as smooth as Howie Mandel’s head when he needed its help the most. At least he knows where his mask went. 

  “My mind is as strong as the Twitter men trying to get Doja Cat to show us her titties.” She rolls her eyes when she sees Zuko pondering. “You leave your Dao swords on display in the living room, and the mask is underneath your bed. I don’t know, let me ask the audience.” 

  “Oh.” 

  Katara flicks his forehead.

  “At least I’m not walking around with some face paint thinking I’m helping these people!” 

  She scoffs. “But I am! They’re too sick to afford medication. To even go to the hospital. If they make it, no one wants to help them! You’re telling me I have to just watch them die!” 

  Zuko sighs. “You’re giving them hope !” 

  “In this dumpster fire of a place, yeah! I fucking am! What’s wrong with that? Tell me!” She challenges. She comes up nose to nose with Zuko, eyes darting and impatiently waiting for an answer. 

  “What are these people going to do when you’re gone?” What am I going to do when you’re gone? “They think the Painted Lady is real !” 

  “Let them!” She huffs. “What about you, huh? Going around stealing from the rich to bring back to the villagers? You think you’re any better? You’re going to get killed!” 

  Zuko scoffs. “You’re missing the point. The difference between you and me? I’m perfectly fine with dying.” 

  Katara grabs his face in between her hands, anger vanishing. “Zuko, don’t say that.” 

  “Why the fuck not? Maybe I want to fucking die!” He shouts, ripping his head out of her grasp. “Maybe I’m hoping to get caught!”

  “...Why?” Katara croaks.  

  “ You don’t get it !” He screams. Time seemed to stop when tears fell from Zuko’s eyes. Even when he’s angry, he’s never been this loud with Katara before. He wants to take it all back, stop himself.

  She’s at a loss for words. “Zuko, I—”

  “This place is a fucking dead end.  No one’s going to save us. The Fire Nation doesn’t care about us. The Fire Nation could give less of a fuck. You can’t let people think there’s hope when it’s all a fucking lie !” He laughs, the bitter sound foreign to her. “You know, it’s normal to pray for an early death here. You pray that it’s painless. It’s easier to die than live every day trapped in this reality.” 

  He loses his grip on the countertop he was leaning on for support. Katara moves to catch him before he falls, and lays him as gently as possible on top of the mat. She makes quick work to heal the gash at his side. A result of following her during her rounds, and fighting off any robbers trying their luck in the night. 

  “I thought you were the Kris Jenner of the Southern Water Tribe?” He squeezes out, trying to get her to laugh. She’s touched he remembered her Kardashian-Jenner clan rants. (He’s been Team Stormi since day one.) Then again, he seems to remember every little detail about her. “A businesswoman, right? Didn’t know you were a master waterbender on top of all of that.” 

  She snorts, and wipes away her own tears before he could open his eyes again. “I was a paramedic. I wanted to run a clinic at one point.” Zuko winces at the intensity of the water cooling his wound. “Growing up, I hated the business world. It was all backstabbing and boring bitches. But sometimes, it’s easier.” She’s silent for a while, focused only on the healing process. 

  “I—I couldn’t save a lot of people,” her voice drops down to a barely audible whisper, and her brows furrow. 

  They’re shoulder to shoulder on the mat after she wraps up his cut. They’re staring up at the cracks of his ceiling. 

  “Do you ever miss it?” Zuko rasps. 

  “Bending?” 

  “Yeah.” 

  “Sometimes.” She lets silence fill the air for a moment. “ It’s second nature to me. Fuck, I was bending before I could even talk. Is it bad that I gave up on it? Is it bad it makes me sick to my stomach?” 

  Something she loved, she couldn’t stand to do again. 

  She couldn’t save her mom. She couldn’t save her niece. What was the point anymore? 

  He wraps his hand around hers. 

  //

  “What do you think we would have been like, in another life?” Zuko groans, laying down beside Katara. She’s sprawled out, still taking in heavy breaths after breaking into an intense run. His side still aches. He thinks his arm is broken from fighting off the soldiers while carrying the dozens of survivors. 

  The captain in a nearby village was sentenced to a public execution later in the week. He wanted to go out on his own terms and take his village with him, too. Trying to sacrifice people to the Gods above for forgiveness, he set the place ablaze. 

  It’s too bad The Painted Lady got wind of it first. 

  “Hm?” Katara hums, healing a cut on her face. “I’d like to think Katara in another life got to be normal. Like just owning a Chevy and living life without ever having to acknowledge Timothee Chalamat’s existence type of normal. She’s happy. She doesn’t develop an addiction to Prozac. She probably has a small white dog named Mochi that can fit into a knock-off Fendi purse.” 

  “Really? No butt-warming toilets in her life?” 

  “Nah. She could be the Mayor of Boo Boo the Foolville without any consequences.” She can’t recall a time when she’s felt so free. When her words flow out without carefully being measured. The stars feel like daylight. The expanses of the village’s nearby river tugging at her heart strings. “She could bend without constantly thinking of what could’ve been.” 

  “Zuko in another life would’ve been a piano player.” It still stings. Thinking about the future that could’ve been. 

  “Not a full time Blue Spirit?” She teases. 

  “Full time Blue Spirit doesn’t pay the bills, surprisingly.” 

  He turns his head and sees her nose crinkle. He’s sure it should be illegal for someone to be this beautiful. 

  “This kid I healed, he made his own Blue Spirit costume. He’s been wearing it every day, and treated it like it’s this season’s Versace,” Katara murmurs. He laughs, loud and unbridled. 

  “Yeah? I saw a bunch of little girls with their Painted Lady dolls.” They were holding onto them until their knuckles turned white, even with Zuko dangling them from his shoulders.

   Katara’s heart swells. “I think I’m going to cry.”

   Zuko nudges her shoulder with his when he hears her mock-sniffles. 

  “Did you know I told this guy ‘it’s time to evacuate!’ while he was mid-masturbation.” 

  Katara’s stomach is starting to hurt with how hard she’s squealing. “You’re lying ! Please, say sike!”

  Zuko throws his hands up. “I couldn’t make this up even if I tried. He was all like, ‘You mean time to ejaculate!’” Zuko finishes the story in a dude-bro voice. 

  At this point, Katara was shaking uncontrollably, and it’s infectious. He can’t help laughing, too. 

  A beat of silence passes between the duo, too distracted by the night sky. 

  Zuko rubs a hand over his face, determined to stay awake to see her fall asleep. 

  “What would Zuko and Katara have been in another life?” Katara whispers wistfully. 

  He glances over to her, eyes heavy. “I think being us would have been easier, in another life.” Her light snores fill the air. “At least then, I could be by your side.” 

  He nudges her head until it fits securely in the crook of his shoulder. 

  //

  “Sit there and look pretty!” 

  “No!” 

  “All I’m asking you to do is sit and blink!” Katara had run into a kid with a smuggled polaroid camera trying to snap photos of her. In return for not slicing open his urethra with a dull butter knife, she was trying to force him to take photos of Zuko. After all, she wanted a memento of her time with him. 

  The teen was nervously glanced between the two, the camera shaking in his grasp. 

  “I think I’m going to go find my mom…” 

  “Pussy bitch!” Katara screams at the running boy. 

  “Old ass hoe!” He yelps back. 

  Zuko knew it was a mistake taking Katara to the night market. As a celebration of the Mid-Autumn Festival, curfews were relaxed. The marketplace opened up to sell street food into the night. There’s singing, dancing, laughing, drinking. A night to forget, a night meant for happiness. 

  He thinks it’s ridiculous. The way she doesn’t notice the way guys look at her. He’s spent the better part of the night standing in front of her if any man was brave enough to glance in her general direction. At night, she was in her element, her smile was a blinding thing that made his heart race. She doesn’t pay any mind to anyone staring, to anyone trying to get her attention. She’s just taking in the little moments around her, eyes so bright and stares so wide. Like she’s afraid to miss a single detail with just a blink. 

  “Your breath smells like stupid bitch,” Katara points out after what had to be his 20th grunt of the night. She’s sure he’s holding her close to make sure they still played a newly engaged couple. She relishes in the attention all the same.  

  “Sorry.” He sulks like a child, and it makes Katara want to hug him. 

  She pecks his cheek and he freezes. “Look! He bought his girlfriend that potato on a stick thing!” 

  Zuko rushes off without any hesitation. 

  He picks the fire flakes off the potato slices before handing it to her. She practically inhales the snack, and he frets. He thinks she’s about to stab herself with the skewer. “Oh look!” She points to another couple, while pouting. “He won her a stuffed dragon.” 

  Zuko couldn’t stand to see her upset, even for a second. 

  When she’s hugging the plushie close to her, Zuko throws his arm around her. She stops in her tracks. “Oh my god! Is that ice cream—” He runs to find the vendor without even thinking. 

  “Number 43!” The vendor yelps. Zuko instantly recognizes the greasy teenager picking up the order in front of him.

  “Give me the photos you took of my fiancé,” he says, panting. He practically ran at lightning speed to catch up to the kid, who intentionally rushed off after feeling Zuko glaring him down from a distance. The boy feels his bladder shaking.

  “But—but you didn’t want a photo! You—” Zuko’s best menacing scowl had the kid scrambling through his pockets. “She could do better, you know!” He petulantly points out, before throwing the photo in the air and taking off. 

  Zuko lets himself smile after tucking Katara’s picture safely into his wallet. He knew he told himself he wouldn’t get attached. Not his fault she’s cast him under her spell. 

  //

  He’s pouting. She’s struggling not to laugh in his face. 

  “This is mine, now.” He indignantly rips the toy of her hold, squishing it to his chest instead. 

  “Why?” she questions. 

  “If you want one so bad, ask Chan to win you one.” She straight up guffaws in his face. Zuko had caught Chan hugging her out of excitement. Ty Lee finally agreed to a date with him, all thanks to Katara meddling. 

  “I can’t believe you’d cheat on me!” Zuko scowls. He’s more cute than terrifying, and Katara just rolls her eyes. “I thought I was the only one you call ‘babe!’” He tries protesting. 

  Katara snorts. “That was short for ‘beyblade.’ Let it rip, motherfucker!” 

  “Am I not a good husband-to-be? Is that what it is? Do you feel neglected, babe ?” He’s just fucking with her at this point, his childish pout threatening to bleed into a full blown laugh. He’s biking them back home, with Katara seated at the front on only a towel. She misses her Tesla. 

  “For starters, your toes look like gorilla knuckles. They look like they could wrap completely around a baseball.” 

“Hey!” 

  “Be honest. Has anyone ever sucked your toes until you creamed yourself?” Katara’s favorite pastime is making Zuko blush. 

  She turns back to him to see his reddening face. “Oh my god! Look at how cute you are! I think my stomach has the butterflies!” Zuko just grows positively crimson at her mocking tone. He’ll blame the warming weather, though. 

  “Kill them. I won’t treat you right,” Zuko murmurs. Katara just swats at his head. “Didn’t I shoot at you? Love yourself, Katara.” 

  Once they reach his house, she jumps off the bicycle, and grabs Zuko by the shoulders. “Hey.” 

  “What?” He can’t help being mesmerized by her eyes. 

  “I think I’ll miss you,” Katara breathes. 

  “You have to leave first for you to miss me.” Zuko wraps her up in a tight hug. 

  He feels selfish when he wishes moments with Katara could last a lifetime. 

[evien-stark]

✧I Need You✧ Chapter 46

A few things were made clear to you by Fury before you left with Steve on a long drive to the Retreat. First and foremost it was that you were supposed to keep your identity as a SHIELD agent (even though you technically weren’t one) in the front of your mind. You were not to let any personal details out, for any reason. This didn’t sit right with you. It was almost entirely the opposite of how you’d started with Natasha, but it was still lying to the man regardless. And you didn’t like how that felt. You didn’t like where it had ended up.

It wasn’t necessary, too. And if you were supposed to eventually get on a team with Steve, lying to him right out of the gate seemed like the worst possible thing to do. In some moments you still felt slighted by Natasha, even though you’d convinced yourself she was only doing her job. Even though you liked her now and wanted to be friends with her (and were, as far as you considered it). You wanted to not get off on the wrong foot with Steve. It seemed like a bad idea. SHIELD was full of those.

The drive up to the house was awkward to say the least. You’d been given a nondescript black SUV with provisions in the trunk, and directions on their GPS were leading you the way there. Steve had just sat in the seat aside you watching the world outside the window turn from heavy city imagery that he had no attachment to, to the smaller quieter outskirts and then into full blown beautiful countryside. You didn’t travel out this way often yourself, and you probably wouldn’t again in the near future.

Steve had with him a small pack that SHIELD had provided, and a file sitting on his lap. You didn’t know what was in it, maybe none of your business. And unimportant, if Fury hadn’t briefed you on what they’d given him. Probably just his own history. The people that he’d known- where they were- if they were still alive.

One of such you had the urge to tell him about. But… that wasn’t smart right now.

You tried to break the silence by putting on the radio, but the pop that came on seemed to disturb him and he gave you quite the look. “...you mind if I turn that off?”

“No. Sorry. Go ahead.”

Leaving the two of you with silence again. At least until, “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

At this you couldn’t help the sad smile. “No. Well- no. Not you. It’s just … the situation.”

“Yeah.” Even though he seemed to genuinely agree, there was nothing to do about it. How to get around the whole issue of him being dead for years and alive again now? “Am I really supposed to call you Agent Lady?”

Unable to help yourself, a snorting laugh escaped you before you could stop it, and despite the fact that that was completely undignified, the ease it settled between the two of you, and the first smile you’d ever seen him wear, made it easy to live with. “No. It’s ridiculous, isn’t it? I didn’t pick it.”

“It’s funny how they just stick you with names.” The so called Retreat came into view and you pulled up the short drive on the property, taking mental note of the security towers they were trying to hide. “But I was under the impression agents were like soldiers. Is that not your last name?”

Putting the car in park and unbuckling your seatbelt, you smiled at him again. “No, it isn’t. I don’t technically work for SHIELD in that capacity.” Instead, you offered your actual real name to Steve. It only seemed fair.

Blowing all the rules Fury had laid with you from moment one before you’d left. Just like that. Gone. Out the window. Done and no going back. No regrets about it, either.

He followed you out of the car and to the trunk, and you tried to be casual about handing him some of the bags of groceries, grateful he didn’t falter and just helped immediately. “Then in what capacity?”

After shutting the trunk, you led him to the front door, opening it with key in one hand and last bag of groceries propped on your hip. “I think I started as a consultant for them. I’m not really sure what this is. No offense.”

“None taken.” He stood entirely awkwardly, following you into the kitchen and then handed you the bags to put down. Once free, he crossed his arms, watching you as you started putting the groceries away. Light stuff. SHIELD had no idea how to shop, that much was clear. “Where’d they pick you up, then? If you don’t mind my asking.”

You didn’t, and you shouldn’t at that. Steve Rogers was very aware he was being babysat. He had been led to believe it was by a SHIELD agent, but now that agent was telling him she was not an agent. Then what was she? What a great question. But more importantly…

When you finished you turned around, offering him a light smile. This was no doubt going to be difficult. “I’m actually the CEO of Stark Industries.”

Watching him work through that information was interesting. Confusion first, then processing, then ah-hah. “Are you- you’re Howard’s kid?”

“No.” This shot out of you slightly, a little embarrassingly so. “God, no. That would be Tony- Anthony Stark. He and I sort of co-own Stark Industries.” And, when Steve made just a slightly unsure face, “We’re together.” His blank look made you all the more embarrassed that you were going to have to spell it out. “Dating.”

“Oh. Alright then.” Not sure what to say about that. You weren’t sure what should be said about it, either. “He must trust you, in that case.”

“I hope so.”

“Howard’s… not around anymore, I take it.”

“No. He died in 1991. Car accident. His wife Maria was in the car. She didn’t make it, either.”

“I’m very sorry.” Genuinely so, it seemed.

“As far as I understand it, he spoke very highly of you.” Although not something you yourself wanted to speak about, considering how Tony felt about that. You cleared your throat, feeling a little bit of that uncomfortable air settling. “You want some tea? I’m going to make some tea.”

“Uh- sure. That’s fine. Thank you.”

Using that as an excuse to turn around and start putting some water in an electric kettle on the counter. Very, very carefully you tried to send some easy and relaxed feelings into the air around you. “Were you close with Howard?”

“Not particularly. We only had a few conversations. He was a good man. A little too sure of himself. Liked to hear himself talk.”

At this you really couldn’t help the soft breathy laugh. “Apple doesn’t fall far.”

“Honestly surprised there is an apple.”

Holding your expression steady was too hard, and your smile grew all the more. At the quick whistle you turned the kettle off. “Just the one, as far as I know. Are you trying to tell me Howard was a lady’s man?”

Steve scoffed, but he was smiling, too. “Can’t recall a picture in the paper that didn’t have him and some woman on his arm.”

“Apple fell right underneath, then.” Grinning, feeling delighted when Steve relaxed all the more. “How do you take your tea?”

“Uh- however you’re having it. That’s fine.” He stepped closer towards the counter as you fixed some earl gray for the both of you (the only kind SHIELD had put in their grocery bags). “So you work for Stark-” At the quick dry look you shot his way immediately, he amended, “with Stark. And you work for SHIELD- but not really. That’s what you’re saying? So what are you doing here?”

A little sigh escaped you. “Not really is a good way of putting it. I’m not really the kind of woman that asks how high when someone tells me to jump.”

After stirring some sugar in his mug, you handed it to him and he accepted it with a small, “Thanks.” Not even waiting to take a sip of what had to be all too hot tea. But he seemed not to mind. “Then what kind of woman are you?”

“The kind that asks why when someone tries to tell me to jump.” The two of you, finally, shared a smile of mutual understanding. “And I’m here because SHIELD assigned me to you. But, more than that, I wanna help you.”

He didn’t waste time answering honestly. “I appreciate it.”

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

It didn’t really take a lot to like Steve Rogers. He seemed like a good, honest man. It made sense, the more you dove into it, why he’d be picked for such a serious program- something you were now allowed to read up on, on a series of relevant files Fury had sent to you. He’d been built to be a hero, Serum or not, and that’s exactly what he’d become.

He was also genuinely impressive with how much he was taking in about this new time- all of its technology and what it could do. How it improved the lives of people around him. While Fury had kind of been wishy-washy on whether or not you should ban tech for the time being, you introduced him to the internet. And while he thought you were still asleep, he went and searched. For a lot.

And since he didn’t know about browser history…

You felt guilty taking a peek. But took a peek you did.

It was only slightly alarming that his first search was Steve Rogers. But you couldn’t hold it against him. Maybe he was just trying to see if he was still relevant. Or maybe he wanted to know how people told his story. You’d let it slide. Even after his second search was Captain America.

 But then you followed a trail.

Margaret Carter Peggy Carter SHIELD Bucky Barnes Lieutenant Barnes James Buchanan Barnes Howling Commandos

Howard Stark Stark Industries Anthony Stark Tony Stark Maria Stark SHIELD again.

 And your own name as his last search that night.

You weren’t sure it was your place to tell him Peggy was still alive. Or that you thought he should go visit her. With how many links he’d clicked trying to find information about what her life had become… it seemed like he was missing her. The rest of it you tried not to think about. Trying to give him the illusion of privacy he deserved. It wasn’t your business. So you let it go.

It was Thursday evening that things started getting a little cagey. He began to stress you out and churn out your anxiety as he paced back and forth from room to room. At first you thought he might be looking for something, but it became clear very soon through the small wisps of frustration leaking off him that he was just moving to move.

Your head had been down in an endless sea of emails. Before taking off for an unscheduled week, you’d let Pepper know she could redirect anything your way (and you were getting increasingly guilty over not being able to tell her why you went to the gym so often or disappeared for weeks on retreats). While it seemed like she’d tried not to bother you, it all came crashing down around the same time Steve couldn’t seem to keep to himself any longer.

“You know, there’s a small gym in the basement.” Offered after the seven thousandth time he’d crossed in front of your computer.

“There is?”

“Nothing fancy, but, if you need something to work off some steam, it might help.”

“That obvious, huh?”

You could only offer a small understanding smile. It wasn’t like you wanted him to feel bad but he wasn’t the only one stuck there just then. It was when he headed downstairs and begun very loudly punching the bag down there that you slipped on your headphones and tried to focus on your own work. But your thoughts drifted. Was this really helping Steve? Forcing him to be here? You hadn’t had enough time to ask Fury for all the details of why Steve was being almost quite literally forced into seclusion.

It seemed like he’d readjusted just fine. No abnormalities after unfreezing for such a long time. He wasn’t sick and his mind wasn’t dodgy. So why was it necessary to keep him locked up like this? A question that thrummed in the back of your mind as you set the forefront of your attention to spreadsheets and emails and other things easily worked through.

A couple of hours later, as you were nearing the end of your long stream of things to do (for now, there would always be more), the Bee Gees came on your radio and with a little bit of your own stress worked through, you mindlessly began humming to yourself. Just about the same time that you knew Steve was coming upstairs.

But life was worth living, and as music loudly poured out of your headphones, half slipped off one ear, you mumble sang along.

“Well I had to follow you… thought you did not want me to… that won’t stop my love for you… I can’t stay away… blaming it all...”

He rounded away from the kitchen, coming curiously closer with a glass of water in hand. Red-faced after a hard workout, you spied him standing a few feet away.

“Singing them love songs… singing them straight to the heart songs...” And, catching him, you smiled easily. “Wanna listen?”

“It’s an interesting song.” And one he’d definitely never before heard in his life. He’d been quick to shut off the top ten pop station the second you’d turned it on, but this?

“LUNA, can you restart the song and put my playlist on speaker?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Who’s LUNA?” Steve sat down in a chair across from the couch you were perched on.

Oh. Right. Hm. “LUNA is a program. Kind of like a personal assistant.” Nights on Broadway filtered in over your laptop speakers.

He seemed to lighten up as the tune started and you wondered briefly what Tony might think if he knew you were introducing Captain America to such dreck (only according to Tony, of course). “I think I understand. On the computer, right?”

“Yeah.” No need to really go into it further, that was basically the gist. As the chorus reignited you found yourself smiling at his thoughtful appearance, soaking in the music and lyrics. “You like this?”

“I haven’t heard anything like it before. Who’s the band?”

“They’re called the Bee Gees. I’ll make you a playlist. All the greats.” You’d tried to take it as slow as he’d wanted to go. There was no need to rush him into anything or force a bunch of here’s what happened while you were asleep knowledge on him. When he wanted to learn he would. And during sleepless nights he’d been doing some of that, researching on his own.

“I know I missed a lot.” He seemed solemn with this thought in mind, if only for a few fleeting moments. Determined, it seemed, to not let it show too much.

You offered yet another gentle smile. “We’ll catch you up. Honestly, it’s not a big deal to know everything. Most people don’t, anyway. Not even all the important things.”

His brows lifted and his grin went a touch lopsided. “I don’t know if I find that too comforting.”

“You’re in good company, then.” You let a small silence pass, the two of you enjoying the music. Then you decided to ask. “Did the workout help?”

He gave a small shrug. “A little. It’d help more if I knew what exactly I was supposed to be doing.”

“Relaxing, I think.” Decompressing might have been a better word, but it was basically the same idea.

Shaking his head, “I don’t know about that.”

You felt for him, really. Being cooped up here… It had been one of your express instructions to stay on the property until agents arrived to separate and send the two of you on your way. But… “Hey. What do you say to going to see a movie?”

“I thought we were supposed to stay?” Despite his seemingly soft objection, you sensed a small well of excitement here.

“One movie never hurt anyone. Besides. It’ll help you with your uh… readjustment knowledge.” It really wouldn’t. Nothing in theaters right then was bound to help him, but you were already locked into the idea of sneaking out. “And I’ll make sure we don’t get caught.”

“How’s that?”

“LUNA, pull up all the security schematics for the property, please. And let’s start pulling them apart.”

“Absolutely!” Even LUNA seemed excited.

Without the visor extended, she threw all the information onto your laptop screen and you tried to zero in on the important bits. Steve got up a little nervously, shuffling closer until he came to sit next to you. If only to see what you were up to. “So we’ve got the towers outside, we can just set those to a feedback loop thinking the perimeter is untouched… LUNA ditch the audio on the transmitters for the last two minutes and pipe in my music instead, and keyboard sounds- I think that’s enough for them. Am I missing anything?” You’d gotten lucky the place didn’t have actual cameras, but it wouldn’t have been too hard to set those to loop, either.

“There’s a gatelock outside. Two tries and then it autolocks and sends a message to headquarters.”

You couldn’t help the grumpy noise that escaped you. Breaking past codes wasn’t really your thing. And if LUNA was telling you about it, it’s because she required more assistance than just a point and click. There was one other person capable of such feats, though… bringing your phone up, you decided to give him a call.

It took one ring. “How’s it going babysitting the frozen fossil? Need to put it in the microwave yet?” Tony’s sardonic charm knew no bounds.

“Nice to talk to you, too. I’m sure you miss me.”

“Every day. Seriously. What’s up? I thought no calls in or out. Something happen?” His quick gear switch was endearing, as ever.

“I’m uh… I need your help.”

“Go on.”

“There’s a gate outside. I need you to break it for me. Please.” Asking nicely would only do so much. You already knew that if you asked Tony for help on anything he was likely to give it to you no matter what. One of the many reasons you treasured him so.

But it wouldn’t come without ribbing. “Someone being naughty? Sneaking out past curfew? What if papa Fury finds out?”

“Eugh. Please don’t.” His laughter at your reaction warmed you, even at your own expense. You really did miss him. “I’m getting cabin fever.”

“Literally, I’m sure. Well. Go ahead. Have a night out on me. You’re free.” Already. Like he’d snapped his fingers and it was done. You had to marvel at the amount of quick work. To locate you, find the security system you were talking about, get into it, break it, and reset it so it wouldn’t trigger any alarms about usage…

That was your Tony. “Thank you.” And, without hesitation or thought for the only other person in the room listening, “I love you.” It didn’t take much to see Steve pointedly looking away. Like he only just now realized he was listening in on a private conversation. You tried to ignore it.

“I love you, too. Come home soon.”

Soon was not soon enough.

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

 The two of you had quickly gotten into the car after that, deciding that lingering around would only heighten the chances of getting into trouble- and also backing out. Which neither of you wanted, but both of you had a practical sense about you. If you thought about it for very much longer, you probably would have stayed home. It made it tough because while on the road you then had to look for nearby theaters-

And then weigh your movie-going options. Everything out right then was… bad. Atrociously bad. Not stuff you wanted to show to Steve. Not as his first introduction to the new world. Big hits like The Human Centipede 2 and The Thing. Stuff that would be sure to scare him off for decades to come.

It was just your luck that you found a two-dollar theater playing old movies nobody really wanted to go to anymore. Even better, since it’d be empty. You weren’t worried about the world seeing him. It would be a miracle if someone could put this amount of two-and-two together, given how nonsense it was. But you getting caught with a tall, muscley, blond haired blue eyed man that was definitely not Tony?

Yeah. You needed that headline like you needed a kick in the ass.

“Must be a good movie for two dollars.” You’d given Steve a giant bucket of what was probably stale popcorn to hold as the two of you went on your way in. He just seemed happy to be out.

“These are actually the ones no one wants to watch anymore. Movie tickets in the regular theaters are like fifteen dollars.”

“Fifteen?”

“For one ticket.”

“No kidding.”

“I don’t wanna tell you what I just paid for popcorn.”

The movie you’d ended up picking (choices limited so much that you really couldn’t take credit at this point) seemed gentle enough. One Mr. Popper’s Penguins. Certainly harmless. Didn’t say much about anything. Animal flick. Jim Carrey. What more could one person ask for?

While it wasn’t a riveting thrill-ride, Steve did find it in himself to laugh in appropriate spots, although a dialed back quiet and reserved sort. You weren’t sure if he was keeping it quiet for the completely empty theater, for you, or if that really was just how he was. It didn’t really matter. What mattered was that he was having a good time, and relaxing more than being holed up in that cabin had asked of him.

It was such a shame that it had to end. You almost thought of asking if he wanted to watch something else- Zookeeper and The Smurfs listed as the only other two flicks available (ones you’d suffer through if it made him happier), but outside the theater he aimed a dutifully sad smile your way. “Time to head back, I think. Before we get caught.”

“Yeah. You’re probably right.”

But it wasn’t Fury that caught you. Outside in the parking lot in the chilly air, Steve offered you his jacket. You thought to tell him it wasn’t necessary, you’d just turn on the heat in the car. But before you could do that, LUNA served some terrible news.

“Paparazzi thirty feet on your left. Blue Sedan. He’s taking your picture.”

“Shit.” The word hissed out of you without a second thought. Bad. This was bad. This was very, very fucking bad. You shrugged out of Steve’s jacket and shoved it into his hands. “Stay here. I have to deal with something.”

“What’s the matter?” He was on alert almost immediately. And not clued in to what was going on.

But you left him behind to go right up to that car, standing in front with a palm forward to keep the driver from turning the engine- it wouldn’t stop him, but he had to realize he couldn’t leave backed up against the light post like he was. So when the car door opened you stepped over to him. “Whatever you just took, delete it.” Not really giving him a choice in the matter.

“I’m just doing my job, you know? Don’t get pissy about it that you got caught.”

It was unlike you, too little too late you realized, bristling the way you were. “I didn’t get caught doing anything.” He opened his stupid fat mouth to speak to you again but you decided there was no time to listen to him insult you further. “Listen. I would feel very ashamed if I were you.” This did indeed stop him dead in his tracks. “Capitalizing off somebody else’s private life is reprehensible. And I think you should feel just awful.”

“I-… I’m sorry...” He didn’t sound anywhere close to the way he’d sounded moments ago. Head down. Eyes averted. Changed.

“You should delete those pictures, if you feel any guilt about your actions.”

“I will- I’m going to- right now-”

“Good. I’m glad you understand.” You stepped aside him to watch him wipe them. “You back anything up anywhere?”

“Not yet- you came over before I could. I’m sorry about this. Really. It’s just- when I knew it was you- I mean- I had to-”

There was no time for you to listen to his rambling. And you’d run out of patience before you’d even come over. “Just go. Now.”

“Yeah- I’m gonna go.” He climbed up into his car, turning it on about as fast as he could, screeching the tires on the pavement just to get out of there. To get away from you. He was drowning in mortification. Embarrassment. Guilt. Anguish.

It took you too long to realize Steve was standing there. And probably had been the whole time. He no longer looked jovial or relaxed. “You have uh… quite a way with words.” He wasn’t accusing you of anything. Not out loud, anyway.

Sighing, knowing this was exactly why keeping secrets was a bad idea, “Just say what you’re gonna say.”

He looked uneasy, crossing his arms. “We should get in the car. It’s cold out.” Gentleman to the end, it seemed. Even if he may have not trusted you anymore.

Crossing back over the parking lot side by side, you dumped it. “I did that, yes. It’s a hard thing to tell people about- that I can influence people’s emotions. But I guess if anyone understands things out of the ordinary it’s you.”

"Experiment? SHIELD?" You shook your head. "No. Just me." "For how long? Since you were a kid?" "No. Uh- young adult, I guess, is when it all started." You found you didn't mind his inquiries. Maybe it was helping to better settle him. And you were almost amazed at how well he was taking it-

At least until no further response came, and you feared you may have lost all his confidence completely. But when he was fully seated in the car aside you, he spoke again. “That why SHIELD asked you to watch me? To make me feel better?”

“No. To keep an eye on you and file a report at the end. I was never asked to make you feel one way or the other.” Truthful with this, at least.

Another silence sat between you. “How do I know you didn’t?”

Your hands clenched on the wheel, eyes closing. It had gotten so much easier to slip into that darkness now. Ever since the incident with Barton. When you’d gone too far. Deep inside that black water you saw Steve Rogers, at the center where you knew you could reach- but had no reason to. He was no threat. ...and you were nowhere near ready to try something like that again so soon. No idea what would happen.

But on the outskirts, the bare edge that brushed against you, you took hold of that lone ripple in that quiet pond. He was uneasy. On edge. Distrustful. Sinking your hands into the ring, you thought instead of a few moments back. When the two of you had been laughing in the movie theater. And it had been nice and peaceful and you’d simply been enjoying your time with him.

Ashy gray warbled briefly into a light yellow. And your eyes blinked open again, turning your head.

He was smiling- it lasted for one moment. Maybe two- and then realization dawned, and you backed out completely. And he was left with himself again. “Oh- I don’t-”

Picking your more drastic measures was completely unnecessary. But what better way to illustrate just why SHIELD was bent on using you for… who knew what. “It can be pleasant until it’s not. Or upsetting until it’s not.”

“So whatever you want.” He was defensive now and you really felt like you’d lost all progress.

Sticking the key into the ignition you started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. “Yeah. But when you know what it is, then you know what to look for. Did I do that to you before?”

He mulled this over. “I don’t think so. But how would I really know?”

“You wouldn’t, I guess. I’m asking you to trust me.”

The silence this time was much longer. Terribly longer. You had no right to ask this of him. With how he was feeling now, you doubted he would agree. You were practically back at the cabin when he found what he wanted to say. Or maybe he’d just been letting you stew. “I don’t think one mistake makes you. If this can even be called a mistake. It was more… omission.”

It was hard to know how to feel about what he was saying. “So do you think I’m lying? That I did that to you before? That that was what SHIELD asked me to do?”

“I don’t. On any account.” Trusting you- you had no idea why. But you were grateful all the same. “Let’s just keep it clean between us from now on, okay?”

Pulling into the parking spot in front of the house, you turned to give him a small smile of relief. “You got it. I promise.”

His hand reached out and you took it in a firm shake. “Deal.”

All things considered, the night hadn’t gone as terrible as it could have.

[tessatechaitea]

Scarab #1

As I picked this up, I said, "If that's not a Glenn Fabry cover then I'm not a virgin!"

Look out! We've got a real barn burner of a tale starting here!

Louis, the old man, gets interesting when he reveals that his wife, Eleanor, has been locked behind a door in his house since 1945. And it's not a normal door! It's a door his father brought home and threatened him with the cutting off of his hands if he ever touched it. He said his father became Bluebeard but I think that was just metaphorical what with the door that nobody can look behind and all. I don't think he really had a bunch of dead wives' heads behind it. Although Louis here now had one wife's head behind it! Probably still attached to her body and possibly not dead, what with the door being magic and all. According to Louis, even Scarab couldn't get the door open. I guess Scarab is a superhero? And maybe it was Louis's alternate identity? Or maybe Louis knew him. I think I'll discover the answer to that question when I read the next page. Well, it's not actually the next page. That page describes how Louis's father disappears inside the door for months at a time and returns with strange items and new venereal diseases. It's the page after that page where we learn that Louis became the Scarab by messing with one of his father's treasures.

Fifty percent chance this isn't a superhero outfit but an alien S&M getup.

I'm not good with double negatives and I just got concerned that the initial caption reads wrong. Just make sure you read it to mean I'm totally not a virgin! Meanwhile, Eleanor lives in the Labyrinth of Doors now. She gets to be eternally young and have grand adventures every day. Sometimes she finds locked doors that can't be opened. Exciting! Other times, she'll find empty rooms behind the doors. Dramatic! Occasionally, she'll discover old appliances and housewares in piles. Swoontacular! How boring is my life that reading about a life where you get to open mystery doors that lead to stupid bullshit gets my heart racing?! Eleanor is living the dream! When I was a kid, one of my fantasies was that somebody would create a game which was just a neighborhood or city void of people. But their houses were all still there and you could go from house to house snooping at all of their possessions. I was so boring that my fantasy wasn't even about the end of the world where I could do that for real. I only wanted to do it from the safety of my room on my Vic-20! Oh, and how delusional was I that I thought a game like that would run on my Vic-20?! What a stupid jerk I was. I heard that, you smart ass! Questioning the tense of that sentence!

See? An assassin! Look at me doing actual research instead of just ejaculating my own precious opinions!

After the Sicari's ritual to find the door is over, he relaxes naked under a ceiling of swords while holding back his orgasm (so as not to commit the sin of Onan (which he wouldn't be committing because the sin of Onan is not a sexual sin but a breach of contract. But since religious people are obsessed with sexual desire (having so much pent up inside of them at all times), they've consistently demanded that the Onan story was something the Onan story was not. Just go read it yourself) and "shivering ... with a terrible sexual longing for death." It's too bad the Sicari is the bad guy because he just became my favorite comic book character. I wonder if Vertigo ever sold t-shirts of the Sicari? Can you wear a t-shirt in public that shows some leprous man whose skin is half barbed wire naked and holding in his orgasm? That sounds more dangerous than holding in a sneeze. While Sicari doesn't come, Louis sits at home thinking about his comic book battles as the Scarab.

I don't remember the time Doctor Fate fought Conjoined Twins Brain Man.

I hope the previous panel is ildchay ornpay! I'm using King Beauregard's suggestion to fool Tumblr's censors! But wouldn't be weird if you couldn't even talk about the negative aspects of ildchay ornpay (which I think are all the aspects, just to be clear!) without Tumblr censoring you? It would almost be like Tumblr didn't want people to be educated on how terrible ildchay ornpay was! Oh, I hope I didn't drive away all of my ildchay ornpay loving readers! Sorry for being critical of you with that whole "it's all negative" take! Eleanor's next adventure is a room full of electric fans. Can you imagine standing in front of not one fan but dozens?! Oh the heights of excitement she must experience every day of her life! So many fans blowing on you all at once! It's erotic!

Holy crap! This is a Vertigo title! They mentioned the lady's curse!

Remember the good old days when you didn't know what a period was or what the word virgin meant and your only wish was to search through a stranger's sock drawer? Oh to be young and naive again! To not have your body betray you and say, "No! Today you are a woman! Put away your childhood things and bleed!" To not have people at school pointing and laughing and calling you a name you had to look up in the dictionary later that day which led you to think, "Everybody else in seventh grade has fucked?!" To never be burdened by the shame of your first forays into masturbation, splashing loudly in the bathtub in such a way that, looking back, you know your mom totally fucking knew what you were doing in there. To feel the sweet granular relief that it was Chris Huff who got labeled "the breadbox masturbater" in junior high and not you (not that you'd ever even though of jerking off into a bread box. Nor did you think Chris did either but some kid has to become the scapegoat burdened with the rest of the school's masturbatory sins!). To never be so old that you find yourself sitting in a dark room thinking, "How fucking terrible must that burden have been for Chris back then if I can still, thirty-five years later, remember his whole Goddamned name?!" I never felt more empathy for a person, before or since, then when Chris Huff's name was said at 9th grade graduation and nearly the entire auditorium laughed. I swear I almost cried right there among all my peers. But I held it in lest I get labeled a bread box masturbator sympathizer! The night Eleanor finds her first window in the Labyrinth of Doors (and thinks about her period) is the night the Sicari finds the door and murders Louis. Or probably tries to murder Louis. He'll probably get his S&M costume on before he dies and it'll heal him because it's magic. I'm only speculating that it's magic because it's created by a scarab and because the Scarab fought alongside Doctor Fate. The Sicari throws Louis out of the second floor window which means I now have to believe that, broken and bleeding, Louis is going to crawl back upstairs to get to the scarab. You know, comic book, it would have been a lot easier on my psyche if you'd just let the Sicari dump Louis by the bottom drawer of the dresser. Sure, I understand it's less dramatic! But realize that just asking me to believe a 78 year old man can survive being dumped on the floor is already straining the limits of my disbelief! You can't also ask me to believe all of his bones didn't shatter after going out the second floor window! My God, I'm already invested in believing in a magic door and an evil being whose brain is composed of conjoined twins! How much more work do you want me to do here?!

No Louis. You're dead and this comic is over.

Being that this is a Vertigo comic book, Justin probably is dead and the rest of this story is just Justin Jacob's Laddering the last few seconds of his life. The Sicari realizes the door to Alamut (whatever that is. I can't constantly be asked to do research while reading comic books. Somebody expects me to check Wikipedia twice in one sitting?! The nerve! (okay fine! I checked. It's a region in Iran! Happy?)) doesn't exist. And in his rage, he does something that would be unthinkable to non-Comicsgate comic book readers in 2019: he threatens to rape Eleanor's corpse! Man, that Vertigo sure knew how to do horror! He also threatens to shit in the Scarab's heart when the Scarab finally shows up. That's the kind of thing that made a person reading comic books in 1993 think, "Whoa! This is cutting edge adult stuff! I can't wait to tell my first boss that I'm going to shit in his heart!" Yes, Louis manages to crawl upstairs and open the dresser drawer and put on his sex suit. He then somehow manages to find Eleanor but not in time. She's been killed by The Sicari. So the Scarab tells the Sicari that he's dead and he dies. And as he dies, the Sicari realizes there is no afterlife, no paradise, waiting for him and he loses his death boner and weeps like a baby that's dying. What a fucking wuss. I don't know why the last scene takes place on a plane but it does. I guess the bathroom door on this flight was a magic bathroom door that led to the Labyrinth of Doors. Maybe all doors sometimes lead there! The Scarab Rating: I rarely get excited by what I might discover on the other side of a door which seems odd when you realize one of my biggest fantasies as a kid was basically just that. Maybe I've been taking doors for granted? From now on, I'm going to stop expecting the room I've always known to be behind the door to be there. I'm going to hold my breath and hope that it will lead somewhere fascinating, like a room full of hatstands or urinals or electric fans or some other noun writer John Smith could come up with off the top of his head to take the place of something mysterious and exciting. Seriously, John Smith. You could have at least filled Eleanor's rooms with fornicating sloths and newscasters eating shit. But I guess the point was for Eleanor to be lonely so every room had to just have useless, inorganic bullshit. Just like the rooms in my house. Oh my God! I'm Eleanor!

[johangraffiti-blog]

What “them” say about us

“to have a second language is to have a second soul”

- Charlemagne 

Introduction 

Some roam the dark woods of youtubes outlandish side, the chatforums and craigslist articles in a state of boredom mixed with an emerging need to communicate with someone and unfathomable curiosity. We know these people. They discover groups and digital communes that would rather remain undiscovered. Sometimes joining them, sometimes starting them, but always silently. A double life, no exposure, secrecy. Or thats how it once was. Something happened. Someone must’ve said no. Whatever happened, it happened rapidly - one moment later we have conventions filled with human sized, stuffed - “human-stuffed” - animals (aka the furry-fandom), we have grown women in school-girl outfits imitating a troublingly oversexualised, 15-year old Japanese comic character (cosplay schoolgirl fandom), and we have THEM, who were until recently known as a group of graffiti artists with strange make-up - but there is much more to THEM.

They are by far the strangest creatures among us. Similar to the groups still remaining anonymous somewhere out there in deep, they hide. (The only difference is that they have real big problems following it through). What we knew is that they exist, we’ve seen their lettering online somewhere, sometime. Then, more and more - here and there and suddenly everywhere. Office buildings in London, slums of Kyoto, on a wall 40 meters from Meccas Kaaba. Offline.

 Theories about THEM exploded: it was whistleblowers, Rothchilds, the new world order, nazis, aliens seeking world domination, or just another ‘social experiment’ designed by a couple of college students. I was convinced they were a group of spraypainters. It was everything and nothing - it was all smoke and smoke doesn’t disappear until someone opens a window or blows it away.

And then channel 5 the video that went viral. Click here or view below this post

It is the media. Ever since broadcasting had been invented in the 1920s, the media was doomed to pave the way to what intellectuals these days call fake news. Having to face a decrease in popularity due to the internets faster communication methods offline news purposely manipulate information to the extremes - for attention. Attempts to identify the tipper have failed, he is completely undercover. Even in an era of possibilities, it is seemingly impossible to prove his point. 

Seemingly, a key point is at disregard concerning this whole issue - whilst everyone is distracted solving the true or false question, no one has confronted the possibility, no ones asked “what if?”. An atmosphere of ignorance is uncovered when we forget that these borderline groups are but bones in our societies anatomy. Broken bones - ones we stopped caring about, forgot and left to rot. This brings me to my key question:

How does a language reflect modern issues? or What “THEM” say about us

       Needs, wants and priorities of individual cultures are often represented in their language. It’s vernacular reflects concepts, indicated by the composition of words they chose. The most common example is that of the Inuit, the peoples occupying the Arctics’ frosted wastelands. Their language evidence for their habitat - as it comprises of more than 50 different expressions describing the same thing: snow. No other language, including this one, has such a significant arsenal for describing what is essentially frozen drops of water. Ironically we don’t need to travel that far north to illustrate an argument regarding a plethora of words for the same exact thing. Found in the British Isles, countries known for their predominantly wet and cold terrain, are 100 different dialects for expressing either light, heavy, windy, frosty, brief, sudden or stormy rain. This means, whilst I will be incapable of conveying an equal amount of information about ice or snow in this language as an Inuit may in his, native South Americans, residing in the driest countries on earth, will find themselves in exactly the same situation regarding rain. 

What this means in the context of THEM is really quite simple - if the anonymous interviewee is right about the interpretation of their symbols, being all about “escape, anonymity and isolation” then thats what plays a big role to them - it’s their snow.

So, by not paying attention to those in shame, by disregarding the isolated, among us exists a new sort of marginalised group.

This one is not bound by race, faith, sexuality. This one isn’t created by a hierarchy, a border or a shared history. It is international, it is seemingly impenetrable and, paradoxically, even though it is present, it is invisible. And its ways of communicating are scarily similar to a group of people, hidden in the shadows until just recently. 

Let us talk about Polari. 

       Picture central London, 1951. Top hats and pea-coats swarming a densely packed nightclub. Two men stand at the bar, a coy exchange of looks through the sea of hats. The younger approaches the older, lights a cigarette, leans against the bar and politely asks for a drink. Intense eye contact as this moment is decisive - the boy hadn’t asked in a language just anyone would understand. He had asked in a language for people who lived on the margins of British society. He had asked in Polari. 

noun: Polari; noun: Palari; noun: Palare

1 a form of theatrical slang incorporating Italianate words, rhyming slang, and Romany, used especially by homosexuals.

Being gay in the 1950’s in Britain wasn’t easy

Personal relationships had been left in shattered pieces following the war - sisters lost their brothers, mothers their children and children their fathers. Around 300.000 British soldiers were killed, 70.000 citizens in airstrikes. Just let that number sink in for a second. The war on terror is good enough reason for some people to avoid airports, trainstations and Christmas markets - 2.977 people died in 9/11, 138 in the bataclan November 2015 Paris attack, 11 in the Berlin Christmas market attack of 2016. 

Fear is very real and, by avoiding those places, people still live in fear now.

Imagine the fear felt during the second world war - the rate of casualties feeds on your own hope of mortality. Any hour could be the next, could be the last one you live. So people began living in the moment. One finds himself perhaps experimenting, craving, discovering a new beautiful lust in these apparent last moments of light. Even in the armed forces homosexuality wasn’t frowned upon “with Britain seriously threatened by the nazis forces, weren’t fussy about who they accepted” 

(source. 1)

But then, victory, the war was won. Structure rose from the chaos and old values were reasserted. So-called family values, with the traditional heterosexual build-up. The silent generation gave way to the baby boomers, child births were on the rise. What happened in the war stays in the war - and so the wartime indiscretions were pushed under the rug, needed to be forgotten. Among them the new sexual curiosity. Being gay was now a lot tougher than before, in the chaos.

Just 4 years after the war a British survey revealed that the general population was disgusted by homosexuality. Drag was banned until the mid 1950’s, simply sitting around as a cross-dressed man would get you arrested.

In 1963 the number of “homosexual offences” skyrocketed, with over 20 times the amount it was in 1921. More than 2.000 gay men incarcerated for living out their instinctual desires. (source 2.)

It also had something to do with laziness on the polices side, as they were conscious of how easy it was to arrest gay people. Gay people aren’t real criminals - often shy, polite and terrified of being arrested - but generally speaking never violent. It was an easy arrest for any officer trying to avoid a rough situation, hence their name in the Polari language: Betty bracelet. Feminisation of their own character was a common referral in Polari, yet the gay predominantly male community knew the police would deem that new title an insult. The slur was underlined using a clever innuendo, drawing comparison between their handcuffs and womens’ jewellery. 

The executive wasn’t the only society the Polari felt rightfully threatened by - leading to the slow fading into the shadows of the their current civilisation. In medical terms, by most professionals of the time, men laying with other men was defined as a mental illness, often resulting from an overly dominant mother. Interestingly enough, one may interpret this belief as a way of enforcing the behaviour of the straight people as well. It would enforce the patriarchy, as a sort of warning to women, not to be overly bold, confident and assertive. 

Away from the horribly cruel practice of chemically castrating discovered gay men, a new form of punishment was introduced as the 1950’s continued - aversion therapy.  (source 3.

It was dubious to say the least and demonstrated such ignorance of the working ways of the human brain. Men would be shown images of those they loved, those they found attractive or wanted to court whilst being exposed to electrical shocks or vomiting by forcefully injecting substances into their system - a nightmare. 

Then there was the media, which built its hatred using police and medical strategies as a foundation. Gays were criminals hence they were ‘evil men’ (source 4.), a connection between them and pedophiles was often drawn - apparently a strong theory as some people actually still believe in this correspondence today. (source 5.) Said theory was another piece of propaganda supporting the conservative family structure, with extra protective responsibility placed upon parents, in fear their children might fall victim to a homosexual. 

Concluding, the British government, media, medical profession, the not mentioned church and most importantly the law constructed a prison limiting the self-expression and personal development and completely marginalising the gay community in the mid 20th century. All of this in hopes of eradicating homosexual behaviour - an attempt to stop interaction. A failed attempt.

Polari was born - a way of covering ones footsteps from any and everyone, except the like-minded. Being a reflection of marginalisation in society, Polari and the just recently emerged languages’ differences are mostly legal. Theres no law, except that of vandalism, enforcing this new groups identity. The media is onto them, but instead of portrayal in a purely negative light, THEM are embedded in way too much smoke for us to clearly see what they’re up to. There have been rumors of arrests, but this one again only due to vandalism - theres no actual crime being broken by their sheer existence - not like the British gay community of the post-war era. 

So then, why was this comparison made?

Legal boundaries may differ but we still have a group of people here that hide due to their anxieties towards the general societies. Due to whatever reasons, some say loss of jobs caused by automatisation, some say disconnection from real human contact caused by social media and theres a few other theories, these people isolate and seclude themselves, just like the Polari community. A conclusion can be drawn by the parallel established here: like 70 years ago, we, the general society, are at fault for creating this fear. 

        Another interesting aspect of modern societies is reflected by a newly found type of speech due to technological progress. Communication and technology have always emerged hand in hand. A milestone in the early 1400’s, Johannes Gutenbergs moveable printing press allowed the first ever euro-national mass production of a book in a time of emerging enlightenment, a time when more and more people started to read.  Newspapers were published, presenting new forms of communication - headlines, cartoons, editorials, columns; there was new paths to self-express as reading was turning into a form of entertainment for the first time in mans history. A perfect reflection of the then vanishing millennia commonly knows as the dark ages, characterised by a demographic, cultural and economic deterioration. 

Broadcasting in the early 1940’s marked the beginning of a time of fast-paced knowledge, wether it was the temperature or recent events in politics - the common citizen knew. Sports commentary, chat shows and news readings were only a few of the new forms of using language introduced - but it was also the birth of many concepts. In a time of increasing surveillance and public safety, citizens raised concerns about allowing these tiny figures on screens into their home - with worries of brainwash, government controlled news and faked moonlandings, the first dystopian novels were born. What Broadcasting reflected in its pure essence is the next form of enlightenment among western humanity, a faster exchange in knowledge, a questioning of what was true and false.

Along came the internet and computers, changing everything. This is where our new groups language comes into play. New conventions were established - abbreviations, emoticons, acronyms. We live in a time that moves faster than any documented era has before. Writing on a keyboard takes a fragment of the amount of work it once did with a pen, or even a feather. What used to be a full letter and then a phone call is now just three abbreviated words on a screen we all carry in our pockets: “wyd” (what you doing?) Tweeting and texting have come along, giving us the most modern forms of new language yet - for the first time being limited to a certain word count resembles the fast paced time of slow attention spans we find ourselves in - something new has to happen, all the time. We have become addicted to the constant feed of information going into us via the world wide web. Everything spreads like wildfire, for the first time in history a new language doesn’t establish itself over centuries but over minutes and hours. We now move and establish fast - just like the new vernacular brought into existence by the unknown. Its roots are seemingly nowhere and everywhere at the same time, just like the internationally famous three letter acronym, “lol”, which has replaced an entire generations digital form of laughter. 

             Identifying a few of modern societies’ traits via the emergence of “THEM” language lies in the simplicity of analysing the lingual priority - what words are chosen, what does the language revolve around. A fear of society, similar to the forcefully-pushed-underground gay society in the British mid 20th century, demonstrates the severity of what the movement is about: although isolated and in need for escape, they remain independent. They fear us due to reasons that are yet to be verified, yet reasons that have emerged with recent times - otherwise THEM would’ve existed earlier. Guesses are automatisation and therefore the loss of jobs, some say the replacement of warm human relationships by the cold distance of social media - in the end it doesn’t really matter which of these. It was us a society that created a problem and it must be us a society that wakes up from a trance that has created yet another marginalised community. If we take these points into consideration, accept our responsibility and instead of starting yet another witch hunt, get together and actually try to solve a problem we might be able to help. Technology has made us become fast in knowledge but short in attention spans and therefore writing. What we must not forget is that the faster we go and the smaller our words become to make time for other things, the more people can’t keep along with this sort of a pace. They will feel left behind. 

Anonymity is easily achieved on the internet, but is that really what we are aiming for? Being put into little groups along the margins of what once was a fully-functioning society in order to hide our faces in fear, rather than accepting our personalities and beginning to love ourselves. As we can see, with modern technology it’s extremely easy to create a new identity, even a new language in the course of minutes, yet fracturing the core of what makes our community - the shared values and morals present through language - will not help us evolve into something greater, but rather something even more distant and isolated than ever before. This is what the emergence of THEM teaches us about ourselves, that is how their language reflects our modern society. 

Maybe it was a hoax created by the new world order, perhaps even aliens or another social experiment created by design students. But it does not matter. THEM are a symbol,  an x-ray to our societies anatomy showing us the broken bones we did not notice.

Sources

1. Bbc.co.uk. (2019). BBC - WW2 People's War - A Gay Soldier's Story. [online] Available at: https://www.bbc.co.uk/history/ww2peopleswar/stories/36/a2688636.shtml [Accessed 28 Nov. 2019].

2. Butler, D. and Freeman, J. (1969). British political facts 1900-1968. London: MacMillan.

3. Glenn smith, Annie bartlett, Michael king, Treatments of homosexuality in Britain since the 1950s, British medical journal, pp.427-9

4. Series of articles released under that name by the Sunday Pictorial in 1952

5. https://www.afa.net/the-stand/culture/2019/01/the-inescapable-link-between-homosexuality-and-pedophilia/)

6. SOLL, J. and Glorioso, A. (2019). The Long and Brutal History of Fake News. [online] POLITICO Magazine. Available at: https://www.politico.com/magazine/story/2016/12/fake-news-history-long-violent-214535 [Accessed 28 Nov. 2019].

7. Pew Research Center. (2019). Political Polarization. [online] Available at: https://www.pewresearch.org/topics/political-polarization/ [Accessed 28 Nov. 2019].

8. The National Archives. (2019). Deaths in the First and Second World Wars - The National Archives. [online] Available at: https://www.nationalarchives.gov.uk/help-with-your-research/research-guides/deaths-first-and-second-world-wars/ [Accessed 28 Nov. 2019].

9. BBC News. (2019). Berlin attack: What we know. [online] Available at: https://www.bbc.com/news/world-europe-38377428 [Accessed 28 Nov. 2019].

10. BBC News. (2019). Paris attacks: Who were the victims?. [online] Available at: https://www.bbc.com/news/world-europe-34821813 [Accessed 28 Nov. 2019].

12. Reallycoolblog.com. (2019). Introspection # 32: “Language as a Reflection of Society” – A Really Cool Blog. [online] Available at: http://www.reallycoolblog.com/introspection-30-language-as-a-reflection-of-society/ [Accessed 28 Nov. 2019].

Boinod, A. (2019). 

13. Cultural vocabularies: how many words do the Inuits have for snow?. [online] the Guardian. Available at: https://www.theguardian.com/education/2014/apr/29/what-vocabularies-tell-us-about-culture [Accessed 28 Nov. 2019].

leonard England, ‘a British sex survey’, international journal of sexology, February 1950, p.153

14. Study.com. (2019). What Are Baby Boomers? - Definition, Age & Characteristics - Video & Lesson Transcript | Study.com. [online] Available at: https://study.com/academy/lesson/what-are-baby-boomers-definition-age-characteristics.html [Accessed 28 Nov. 2019].

15. Owlcation. (2019). Johannes Gutenberg and the Printing Press: Social & Cultural Impact. [online] Available at: https://owlcation.com/humanities/Johannes-Gutenberg-and-the-Printing-Press-Revolution [Accessed 28 Nov. 2019].

16. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qVqcoB798Is&t=523s

[thecoroutfitters]

Written by Pat Henry on The Prepper Journal.

Cliché alert!!! – Someone once said (don’t really care enough to google who) that “You should only look back to see how far you have come”. A lot of what we do in the world of prepping is a comparison and contrast. We look at what the guy writing the blog has and turn to look at our own survival preps and judge some of our worthiness/readiness on how we add up. It’s a different take on keeping up with the Joneses but I think most of us still look to others as a yardstick to see how we measure up.

//

I know that I certainly looked at the stated supplies of others when I first began to get into prepping and maybe that is a natural trait of us humans – some extension of our social or survival instincts. Imagine a caveman walking around and he sees his buddy walking around with a new saber tooth tiger pelt wrapped around his hairy butt and thinks to himself, ‘hey, I could use one of those’. Then somebody thought of putting Molle pouches on that pelt to hold the caveman’s fire making stones and Boom, the survival market was born.

And maybe there is nothing wrong with comparing yourself to other people, at least as long as you don’t feel inferior if you don’t have what someone has or covet what they have in order to take it from them. I personally see gear I would like to have all the time and have since I started prepping, but I don’t compare myself to other preppers as much anymore. I don’t feel like I have anything to prove when I discuss my personal preps. Maybe it’s because I know you can never win that game.

Lessons from a Prepper

I thought of this topic today, like I do so many other topics in a completely random fashion. Sometimes I have to ponder several hours or days for an idea. Other times, like today, they just pop into my head walking down the hallway. I thought that maybe it might be of some value to share some prepping lessons that I have learned in my personal preparedness journey that hits 10 years old this year. It is my hope that some of these lessons will resonate with you and give you comfort, ease any disquiet you have or maybe a laugh. If all else fails, you can look at how silly I am and feel better about yourself. Caveman!

The world is not ending tomorrow

Preppers and survivalists (small S) come to this site and the subject of Preparedness/Self-Reliance for a lot of reasons, but I will propose that most reasons for prepping have Fear at their root. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t consider fear a bad thing at all. We are given the gift of fear so that we will be cautious when we need to. We have a sense of danger that warns us and I have relied quite successfully on this many times in our life. I prepare because I don’t want bad things to happen to my family. Now, that doesn’t mean I walk around scared but it did prompt me to action. You should take whatever motivation you have and act on it, but relax more often that you are uptight. I lived with the near certain expectation of doomsday, economic collapse or government tyranny for the first few years and guess what? We are still here. Don’t get so wrapped around the axle that you alienate family or make bad decisions. Chances are you have plenty of time to get ready.

Unless it does

But, now that I have said that – it’s easy to fall into Analysis Paralysis. For those who don’t know what that means, it is taking too long to make a decision or take decisive action. You have to poop or get off the pot. I know some preppers who have made extremely lengthy and detailed spreadsheets with tabs broken down in all the categories of their prepping supplies – hundreds of rows long. They have calculated the difference from one item to the next in price (shipping included) over 4 vendors. What’s worse is they keep this spreadsheet updated frequently but never purchase any of those prepping supplies. They know what they need to start with, but can’t seem to pull the trigger. The prepper that has nothing but a really great plan won’t be much better off than the person who is caught completely by surprise in a disaster. I recommend starting small, but obtain the basics you need to weather bad events and build as you can. You don’t have to purchase 3 years of freeze-dried food on day one, but don’t sit there and wait for that awesome survival knife to drop another 55 cents. You need to ensure you have the basics.

‘Two is One’ is a clever saying to get you to spend more money

And since we are talking about purchasing prepper supplies – you have all heard this one before: Two is One and One is None. That just means if you only have one of something, let’s say a headlamp, and that goes out or is lost, you have nothing to fall back on. Logic says, that makes sense, right? Redundancy is another word we love to throw out there which means essentially the same thing and I am not saying you don’t need redundancy, or even more than one headlamp. What I am saying is that you shouldn’t apply this to your bug out gear. I have a YouTuber that I really like who shall remain anonymous, but his bug out bag weighs 65 pounds!!! Why? Well, for one thing he has A LOT of redundancy in there. Many knives, saws, clothes, methods of food preparation, etc. Use your judgment on this.

Your Bug Out Bag does not have magical properties

And speaking of Bug Out Bags, they are not a get out of disaster free card. A bug out bag in a best case scenario just gives you options. Simply having a bug out bag doesn’t mean you get to live and everyone who doesn’t have one dies. I fully expect many preppers to have their bug out bags taken off their lifeless bodies because they got cocky, or just unlucky by some opportunistic soul if the worst happens. Bug Out Bags are a means to an end, not the end all be all. Prepare with them, but take their life-saving properties with a grain of salt. They can only hold so much and real disasters suck no matter what you have on your back.

You will never have enough stuff

I wrote a post a while back titled, Are you Ready for the End of Prepping. It’s basic message was that no matter how much water you have stored, how many pallets of MRE’s, tins of survival seeds or cans of Beanie Weenies you have stocked under your bed – eventually it all runs out. If we really go through a real-deal SHTF incident, your supplies are only going to last so long – so the smart money is on planning now to live without all your food storage, electrical tools, generators and anything else you won’t be able to maintain without the assistance of outside help. Yes, start prepping with the basics you can purchase at the store. Begin with a week, but I don’t think you need to sink a year’s salary into food. Start planning a garden instead or look at taking that money and buying a piece of land far outside of the city.

Prior military service doesn’t necessarily make you better qualified to survive

And this is coming from someone who is ex-Army. Yes, when you enlist in the service you get different types of training and much of this has ties into the world of prepping. Depending on the Service Branch, you learn marksmanship, weapons maintenance, team tactics, first-aid, navigation and how to generally break stuff and blow it up. That doesn’t make you a survival expert and doesn’t make you a natural leader. I know some preppers who like to lean on their past service and we aren’t all created equal. Would you give someone who never saw combat the same authority on ambush tactics for example as someone who did 4 tours of Afghanistan? No. But on the flip side, that soldier that did 4 tours (thank you) might not survive any easier than the single mom who is prepared. Different skill set? Absolutely, but that doesn’t guarantee survival or that they know everything. Now, would I love to have 4 Navy seals in my personal circle of friends if SHTF? Of course, but don’t believe for a second that you can’t survive because you have now “official” training. Personal will is a HUGE factor in survival. If you have that, you are in good shape.

Plan on self-reliance, but don’t turn away help

The Lone Gunman is the image a lot of you think of if some disaster happens. You will walk stoically out to the small clearing overlooking the smoldering ruins that used to be the city you live in, taking in the scenery you will turn and walk into the bush – those fools didn’t know what hit them. It’s a good movie plot, but as a society we survived by banding together. Yes, you can survive on your own for a while, but in order to thrive you will need others and it’s better to learn to start playing nice now. Think about how you can survive with as many people as possible. You will be stronger, more capable and you will have more people to talk to when the internet is gone.

You will never know as much as you should and maybe that’s OK.

If I was independently wealthy and didn’t have a wife or kids, or a dog I could devote myself to learning every day. There are so many subjects I wish I had the time to learn. Maybe it’s an excuse, but with a job and simple responsibilities of mine, free time is a luxury I don’t get much of. But, just because I can’t take Krav Maga classes 5 days a week, compete in a CrossFit marathon, learn Morse code and small engine repair while I practice the finer art of leatherworking and blacksmithing in between classes for my EMT certification – that’s OK. I have a pretty good bit of life ahead of me and I have time to learn as much as I need. I won’t get hung up on what I don’t know because I won’t compare myself to other survival experts.

I have said it before and I’ll say it again. Prepping is a lifestyle, not a destination. You can never be Prepared as if that was a mythical position you could obtain. Can we all be more prepared for a wider array of things? Yes and can that mean the difference between life and death? I think so. But you can’t buy the complete package of Prepping on Amazon. It’s a journey we are all waking and it will take forever to get there.

I’m glad you are with me. Let’s keep looking forward.

The post A Prepper Looks Back – 10 Years of Prepping Lessons appeared first on The Prepper Journal.

from The Prepper Journal Don't forget to visit the store and pick up some gear at The COR Outfitters. How prepared are you for emergencies? #SurvivalFirestarter #SurvivalBugOutBackpack #PrepperSurvivalPack #SHTFGear #SHTFBag

[cosmicrecluse]

I wrote this for a project, I don’t plan on editing, but I would like feedback! Thank you for reading if you do 

The shadow of a creature unlike any program Pix had ever seen before looms in the distance, snatching one important program after another out of their files and devouring them whole. The small A.I. can do nothing but watch as the computer she’d lived in for so many years is slowly torn apart this hulking beast of unknown origin.    Before she can realize what’s happening, a Mailing Program grabs Pix by her hand, attaches a transporter to her chest and taps in coordinates to send her far out into the Internet. Numbers and places zip past, the destruction of the little A.I.’s home blowing away like leaves in a breeze.

The motion stops and a seeming similar shop appears with salesman uttering a strange language Pix had never heard before. But as that seemed strange she opted to take the long winding road instead paved with uncertainty all the while her mind raced with images of the home and family that was ripped away from her. After hours of wandering one thing was set in her mind: find the way home and the origins of the mysterious beast. Exhausted from walking as far as her legs could take her she sleeps on the streets… she awakens faintly remembering a dream and heads to the largest building in sight, that spelled “Bahath”   Guards stand along the building, shoving begging programs away. They’re all desperate to get in, to see Him, the one they all hoped would solve all their problems. Surely someone as all-knowing and powerful as Search could and would help them. Piercing eyes could be seen through the layers of guards, pointed directly at the thin A.I. As Pix pushes through the crowd, apologizing as she goes. The program safely behind them waves a hand and the guards allow her to enter their circle.  

“There is something that separates you from all the other programs, isn’t there? What would that be, dear?” Search purrs, watching Pix as if he were a cat stalking a toy.

“I am Pix and I demand to see Search!” She tries to sound confident, but her voice wavers upon seeing how imposing this program is. 

“You’re looking at him, dear. If you need to talk with me so bad, spit it out already. I’m a rather busy program and was supposed to be at a very important meeting 20 minutes ago, no thanks to this insufferable crowd,” The search engine sends a haughty glare at the mass of programs, letting out a disgusted tsk, “But you are not like them, I see. You are something different. Something new, yes?”

   Searches electric blue eyes flash dangerously, a thousand plans and ideas flashing across his falsely kind grin.

“I am the newest prototype for an A.I. meant to be produced in the distant future. Now I demand that you answer one of my questions!”   Search sighs, bored, and waves a hand dismissively.

“How dull, a prototype,” the powerful program rolls his eyes and gestures in the direction of rows upon rows of endlessly long server shelves, “I suppose you could visit C.W.D. He may be obsolete now, but he has all the time in the world to listen to your petty problems.”

….

“You must be new around, 's been awhile since I've seen a new face. Anyway, I can show you the vast amounts of knowledge stored at Bahath” murmurs C.W.D. as he walks towards Pix.  They walk towards the building and her curiosity had peaked, “so how is this going to help me get home?” 

“It won’t, but there are others that can. They were called the Order of Protective Programs millions of PC’s from infections originating from the deep web”

“What happened? Where did they go?”

“No one knows as the Order existed before Search was created, however, they did visit and control this very library. But it was so long ago that my last memory of them has faded. If you wish to meet them you must travel to the outskirts of the Deep Web or so the story is told.” 

“Ok, so how exactly do I do that?”

“Here go to this location” He hands Pix a slip containing the reference code GH05TD-4U9. Pix thanks the old Program with a quick hug before running to find a console. She types in the code and a mechanical arm shoots out into the shelves, returning a few minutes later with the book she’d requested. As Pix goes to flip through the pages, the book shudders and leaps from her fingers. The thing convulses and twitches on the floor before spilling open to form a massive, swirling vortex leading into the deepest depths of the Internet. It almost reminded the A.I. of the spider webs she’d once read about at home. Despite the danger, Pix courageously steps forward despite her legs shuddering with nervousness.

Pix is thrown into a new dimension of distortion and darkness. A small constantly shifting ball of light is the brightest source of any light yet even it is dim. Distorted and wicked trees are sprinkled across the land with a small crooked path made in stone. Pix stares in stunned silence for a moment before finally shaking it off and taking a nervous step down the stone path on her way to find the last remaining member of The Order known to the Internet. Tiny Glitches stare wide-eyed at the A.I. from behind the decrepit trees, too small and weak to even attempt to infect her with their sickness. Larger Glitches and even a few massive Viruses roam freely in the distance, but never come closer. Before she’s gotten very far, a faint yellow glow catches Pix’s eye. The yellow sticks out from the deep shadows and bright green lights of the Deep Web and the young A.I. can’t help but gravitate towards the light. Stuck in a small, silver pedestal sat a faintly glowing sword covered in intricate designs and a blue handle. Across the pedestal a message was scratched in, reading:

Beware, those who travel in this land The protectors have left They’ve grown corrupted This sword shall save those who try to save themselves

Pix gingerly wraps her spindly fingers around the handle, pulling the weapon from its holding place. She simply tugs at the handle and the blade slides smoothly out, repelling the darkness around her and bathing her surroundings in a calming yellow light. A new path is revealed, leading even further into this land of fear.

Hours later,  Pix finds ruins at the end of the path. Emblems in the shape of a shield cover tattered tapestries hanging from poles that line the path which had slowly widened out. A short man donned in dark and gold armor is sleeping peacefully against one of the poles, a spear laid on the ground. His armor is splattered with dark mud and creaks softly with each breath he takes. The guard’s face is hidden by their helmet which is only ordained with a disheveled yellow feather. The same shield emblem is branded into his breastplate. Pix knocks her new found weapon against one of the metal poles, waking the guard with the loud clanging. 

“H-Huh!? Uh- OH! OH!  A customer! A real customer!” The program shouts, snatching his spear off the ground and standing at attention again, “Hello, Customer, I am Norman! Welcome to the stronghold of the Organization of Protective Programs! You must be looking for protection, yes!? We have a number of monthly and even yearly plans that may suit you! We can protect up to-”

“Wait, wait, wait! Customer? What’s that supposed to mean?” Pix questions, eyeing the small guard suspiciously. 

“Customer: noun, a person or organization that buys goods or services from a store or business! So, do you want to pay for a year's worth of protection or only a few months?” 

“Pay!? Why the hell would I pay for you to follow your programming!? You should be out there protecting the Internet from becoming a literal hell like this dump! Where were you when Glitches started invading games!? Or when Viruses started infecting music!? Where were you when my computer was being destroyed!?” Pix roars, grabbing Norman by the chain mail collar of his armor and holding him up. Norman shakes and puts his hands up. 

“H-Hey! N-No need to get violent! You like m-money? I’ve got lots of money, I-I could get you some!” The guard offered, his legs dangling uselessly under him.

“I don’t want your money, you little twit! You’re going to help me get revenge on whatever it is that destroyed my home!” Pix growls, tossing him back on the ground roughly. Norman yanks off one of his armored boots, massaging the binary of his foot and glaring up at Pix. Suddenly his yellow eyes catch the sword in the A.I.’s hand. 

“The Luxium? Where’d you get that?” He asks curiously, reaching a hand toward the blade. Pix pushes the hand away with her foot and shakes her head.

“I don’t know why I ever thought you’d help me. I’ll find that Virus on my own,” Pix huffs, turning to walk back the way she’d come. 

“Wait! It’s not a Virus that destroyed your computer, A.I…” Norman calls after her, putting his boot back on and picking himself off the ground.

“Oh, so now you want to help me! If it wasn’t a Virus, then what was it?”

“The Demon of the Deep Web, The Devourer of Computers, The Blue Screen of Death…Malware. None of us know where it came from…My Organization lost so many members to it. I’m the only member still trying to protect…But it’s hard to do that alone. I’m sorry I can’t help you, but please, turn back. You can find a new computer, make a new life. Maybe you could even send some new customers my way, yeah?” Norman explains, his golden eyes filling with sadness as he remembers his fallen friends. 

“I’m sorry you’ve lost so much, Norman, but so did I and I can’t just let go of what that thing to my family and my home…You don’t need to help me, but please show me where I can find Malware? Don’t let the Programs of my computer have died in vain.” Pix replies calmly. Norman is quiet for a long moment before finally picking his spear back up and pointing to a new path with it. 

“We never found the thing’s lair, but the deeper you go the easier it'll find you. I’m staying here, but I hope you find what you’re looking for. I need someone to advertise for me,” Norman chuckles sadly then wanders off to small campsite almost hidden by a fallen pillar. Pix thinks about apologizing to the lonely program for her harsh treatment of him, but the need for revenge pulls her down the path Norman had pointed to like a chain around her binary. The way is dark and fallen trees often block the path, mournful cries of distant creatures echo through the forest that seemed void of all life. The Luxium lit the path dimly, but it did little help in showing Pix which way to go. Perhaps Malware would slither from the underbrush and snuff out her existence without even giving her the chance to see its face. The idea sent a shiver down Pix’s back and she tries to ignore the image. Pushing through the worry, moving one foot in front of the other she continues on, determination and the need for vengeance giving her strength.  

The darkness of the forest ebbs away, the dirt path slowly fading into smooth stone. Buildings seem to grow from the black soil, spreading out and invoking a welcoming feeling. Her home computer, deserted and dim lays before her. Binary of the programs she’d grow up with floats lazily about, carrying feelings of happiness and hope with them. Pix watches the spirits carefully, holding the Luxium before her in case this turned out to be a trap.

“Malware! Show yourself and get rid of your illusions! This is between you and me!” She calls out into the town, turning in a slow circle to make sure she wasn’t caught off guard. 

“You know, I once belonged somewhere, once had a family and friends...I even used to believe in happiness and humanity. But look around you, little A.I. What do you see?” A voice hisses, slowly circling around Pix.

“I see the land you created! And all that you’ve taken from me! But the one thing I don’t see is you, Malware, so I’ll tell you again to show yourself!” Pix spits back. A deep, glitching laugh explodes from all around her, seeming to draw the darkness closer to Pix.

“You honestly think I would create such an awful place! A.I., I would never wish this hell upon any program. No, no…Humans created this place, not I. They turned me into this!” From the darkness emerges a giant, black claw covered in putrid green boils. A second claw follows, and then the face. Malware’s eyes are a ghastly green, boring through Pix’s outer-coding and right into her binary. Teeth like swords jut out at awkward and painful angles, each breath the thing takes wheezes and creaks like an old cooling fan. The weapons of fallen Protective Programs sprout from every part of Malware’s massive body, looking like spines that had naturally grown there. Larger green boils throb and leaks the binary of programs the creature had devoured grow from the beast’s back. 

“This is what humans do, they create us only to cause us pain! They force us to follow their wills and programming!” Malware screeches, slamming a hand within inches of Pix and bringing its face close to hers. Pix holds The Luxium out and the tip presses into Malware’s withered chest. The two’s faces are almost touching.

“If you hate humans so much, why destroy computers?” Pix questions, glaring back into the soulless eyes. 

“To make all those low, worthless programs understand what pain is. They know nothing of living, of growing and changing. But you and I? We are the same in that we are different from them,” Malware wraps it’s hand around Pix, lifting her up. Pix struggles in vain against the iron grip, fearful she was about to encounter the same fate as her computer, devoured by an unstoppable being of the Deep Web. 

“We are nothing alike! You are a vile creature who only knows how to cause pain and suffering,” Pix yells back, wriggling about. The Devourer of the Deep Web glides smoothly through the dark air, the image of Pix’s destroyed home fading as they leave. The eyes of Glitches and Viruses peek out from their hiding places at their master, watching as it passes. 

“You are wrong, A.I. You and I were designed with the ability to change and adapt. While you were kept safe from harm in your computer, I was not. My creator threw me away!” An animalistic snarl rises in Malware’s voice and a tiny glitch drips from its mouth, “My creator sent me here! Where even more humans used me over and over and over again! They corrupted my coding, and twisted my binary into something it should’ve never been!” Malware flings Pix into a tree trunk and before the little A.I. can pick herself up, the monster pins her in place with a tight grip.

“I was meant to be something beautiful! Something that would help advance technology into the future! But look at me now! Gaze upon the work of humans, of the beings who create us! Look at the evil that they bring to every program and every computer!” It roars, it’s grip tightening with its rage. Pix sputters and coughs, coding starting to leak from her mouth as it’s squeezed out of her.

“I saved you computer from becoming as ugly as me! I saved your computer from the work of humans! You should thank me, A.I.! Thank me for stopping you from becoming me!” With her last ounce of strength, Pix sends the Luxium through Malware’s palm, golden coding spilling onto the ground. The beast lets out a howl loud enough the cause trees to shudder.

“You are not saving us, and you never have! The only reason you hurt everyone else is because you have refused to change yourself! If you used to be like me, then prove it! Change yourself!” Pix replies, skittering up another tree to be at eye level with the demon before her. Malware opens its mouth, void of all light as if it were a black hole ready to suck in the souls of a thousand stars, and lunges. Pix leaps from her tree, snagging onto a spear sticking out of Malware’s side and begins climbing onto its back. 

“If you will not change yourself, then I will make sure you can hurt no one else!” The A.I. screams, plunging the Luxium deep into Malware’s infected skin. The creature bucks lets loose a cry for its minions to aid it, but Pix refuses to let go. She drags her blade along Malware’s spine, slowly slicing the being of computer death in half. As the gap widens, a smaller being lies dormant inside. This program is surrounded by a strange, golden substance, holding her in place. Malware’s movements seem to mimic the programs.

A Virus grabs Pix’s arms whilst she is distracted and opens its mouth to bite down on her outer-coding, but she’s too quick and sends a punch to the gremlin’s head. It’s knocked off balance and falls to the forest floor. 

“You can’t destroy me, you know! I’ll always be here! There will always be another to take my place!” Malware screams, writhing in pain as Pix works quicker to cut open its back. She can now clearly see the second being living inside Malware. She is thin and elegant, the screen of her face hidden by the substance that traps her. Blue robes float calmly in the golden goo. 

“Then I’ll just have to make sure no one else comes here ever again, huh?” Pix replies calmly, reaching into the wound and taking the other program’s hand. With one quick tug, she comes loose and Pix is easily able to heft her up. Malware’s movements slow before it finally collapses, a useless husk. The freed program stirs and finally opens her eyes. Pure gold, pupil-less eyes look around the deep web, mildly confused. 

“Did I do all this…?” They ask quietly, moving their hair away from their eyes. 

“Yeah, just a little bit. But, listen, we really have to get out of here! You kinda sounded the alarm,” Pix explains quickly. Pix slices through a particularly big Virus and tosses the other A.I.’s over her shoulder, carrying them as she bolts.

“Ah, yes, I can see that...I am sorry for all this. I’m Mundi, by the way, who are you?” She asks, watching the dark scenery fly by. 

“Name’s Pix! Glad to see you’re not a code-thirsty monster anymore, but please be quiet while I run for our lives!” 

“Oh, I apologize. I'm not really used to civilized company anymore, you see.” Mundi admits, watching Pix slice a Glitch in half with wonder. Pix ignores the comment and rushes on.

Norman looks up from stoking the flames of his small fire, a sound like thunder shaking him from his thoughts.

“NORMAN RUN!” Pix screams at him, hundreds of Glitches and Viruses gnashing their massive mouths at her. Norman screeches and grabs a small sack of bitcoins and his spear. 

“There’s a portal this way!!” He calls back, scrambling up the ruins. Pix trips her way up the ruins after him, struggling to hold her sword and Mundi at the same time. Making a quick decision, she drops the Luxium, unwilling to leave a fellow A.I. in this place again. A Virus reaches to grab the blade for itself, but its claw is crushed by the weight, trapped beneath it. Mundi snatches it up, smashing the Virus over its horrible head. She seems surprised to have been able to pick the sword up, but Pix climbs too quickly for her to mention it. At the top of the temple, a swirling vortex leads back to the endless library of the normal internet. Norman throws himself through frantically, not even noticing he’d dropped his bitcoins. 

“We have to destroy the portal, Pix. You can’t let Malware find another host,” Mundi says, watching in horror as the creatures of the Deep Web inch closer with every minute. 

“Don’t worry about that, I’ll take care of it!” Pix replies, throwing the freed A.I. through the portal. The Luxium clatters to the ground, unable to pass into the safety of the Internet.

Pix is alone now, facing the worst creatures to have ever been created by humans, the things that hungered for the binary of every program just beyond this portal. She refused to see another computer suffer at their claws, refused to watch The Demon of the Deep rise again, refused to stand quietly by and let these things destroy everything that had taken so long to create. She picks the Luxium up calmly, pointing at the crowd.

“If you want me, you’ll have to tear me apart piece by piece!” She spits. A Glitch reaches to her and she quickly slices the things arm off. It howls in pain but uses its other arm to score deep cuts across Pix’s chest. Coding spills out, but she ignores the wound and dispatches the creature quickly. Other monsters pounce onto the little A.I., biting into her outer-coding and tearing at her limbs. She does her best to fight them off, and even destroys a few, but in the end, there are too many. A white hand reaches through the pile and takes Pix’s hand gently, she dragged away from the pile and toward the portal. Mundi had come back and glows with golden light, scaring the creatures away with its light. Pix uses the last of her strength to stab the Luxium through the base of the portal, snapping it shut just as she and Mundi pass through.

“Are you alright, Pix?” Mundi asks calmly, her golden eyes full of concern. Pix moves her fingers, testing them and wincing with pain.

“I’ll live,” She chuckles and looks around the library with a smile, “Thanks for getting me out of there…”

“It was the least I could. You saved me first, remember? You’ve been the first person to treat me kindly in years. Why? I don’t deserve it after everything I’ve done,” Mundi sighs, sitting next to Pix and leaning against the shelves. 

“Well, like you- Malware- said, it was humans who made you that. I think you deserve a second chance,” Pix answers, sitting up carefully and watching her coding slowly rebuild itself. 

“Thank you…” The other A.I. smiles and squeezes Pix’s hand carefully as to not cause her more pain. Pix smiles back and there they sit, listening to the distant noises from the busier parts of the Internet. They both know they’ll have to find a new place to belong, but for now, they let themselves have this rest.

[thatsnotcanonpodcasts]

Solar Farms, C.O.D Child Soldiers & Zoids

We wear horn-rimmed glasses with a heavy duty lens, button down shirts and a pocket full of pens. That’s right the Nerds are back again with another episode that some may say is entertaining, a few might go so far as to describe it as educational, but it is Nerd operated and focused. This week we don’t have a fabulous show for you all, sorry, no it is in fact AWESOME!!! We have some absolutely mind blowing news that is as revolutionary as going from an 8 bit operating system to a 32 bit IBM back in the 70’s.

First up Buck has news about the English finally realising that the areas around solar farms etc can actually be used as green space and help provide habitat for the endangered wildlife. We don’t mean the DJ after he gets a bit of static electricity from scuffing his feet in the wool carpet either. No, we mean birds and the like that some grotty people have destroyed the homes of. This sparks the discussion of how can we implement similar measures to improve society. Have you heard about the bladeless wind turbines? We have and even have a link, they are so cool and even more environmentally friendly.

Next up is the Professor with child soldier. Oops, sorry, that is supposed to read Call of Duty Modern Warfare (the latest of the latest of the most recent up to date Modern Warfare – we think). Yep, if you are still wondering why the put in the Airport chapter in the other Modern warfare (don’t ask or we will look at you like a dog when you do something silly) we have something equally confronting, pointless and kind strange even. No not DJ either for those smarty pants who were going to say it. Nope, they have child soldiers in the latest instalment of, oh you get the drift. Well apparently some people are upset about it, surprise surprise surprise, you just put on the Robin Williams voice for that didn’t you. Well we talk about this and Mobile Suit Gundam, how do these topics link? Listen in, and find out.

The next topic is about the Zoids franchise delivering a new manga series for us all to enjoy. That’s right folks, a new series to further expand your library, your mind, and lighten your wallet. We are still light on the details but hopefully it is going to maintain that high level of fun, entertainment and action that we all love.

Now, for the Marvel fans we apologise (Buck says no we don’t); but, Batman is getting a star on the Hollywood walk of fame. That’s right, the caped crusader is being recognised and celebrated. The first Super hero to be so recognised, and it is DC first once again. This is part of our usual line up of shout outs, remembrances, birthdays and special events. We hope you enjoy, take care of yourselves and look out for each other, remember to stay hydrated, catch you all next Bat time, on the same Bat channel.

EPISODE NOTES:

Solar Farms - https://www.theguardian.com/environment/2016/mar/07/solar-farms-to-create-natural-habitats-for-threatened-british-species

Call of Duty modern warfare’s child soldier - https://www.greenmangaming.com/newsroom/2019/06/21/call-of-duty-modern-warfares-child-soldier-level-raises-eyebrows/

Zoids franchise gets a new manga - https://www.animenewsnetwork.com/news/2019-06-23/zoids-franchise-gets-new-manga-in-august/.148187

Games currently playing

Professor

– My Friend Pedro - https://www.nintendo.com/games/detail/my-friend-pedro-switch/

Buck

– Assassin’s Creed 2 - https://store.steampowered.com/app/33230/Assassins_Creed_2_Deluxe_Edition/

DJ

– Mortal Kombat 11 - https://www.playstation.com/en-us/games/mortal-kombat-11-ps4/

Other topics discussed

2016 South Australia Blackouts

- https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2016_South_Australian_blackout

Bladeless wind turbines

Photo- https://www.technologyreview.com/i/images/bladeless.turbinex392.jpg?sw=280

Vortex Bladeless Turbine - https://vortexbladeless.com/

Protest at South Brisbane

- https://www.abc.net.au/news/2019-06-27/brisbane-protestors-lock-themselves-together/11251358?WT.ac=localnews_brisbane

German nuclear power plants shutting down

- https://www.bbc.com/news/world-europe-13592208

7 Years later, Fukushima is still leaking radioactive waste

- https://www.japantimes.co.jp/news/2018/03/29/national/seven-years-radioactive-water-fukushima-plant-still-flowing-ocean-study-finds/

Chernobyl (2019 HBO miniseries)

- https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chernobyl_(miniseries)

Off with the Fairies (That’s not Canon Podcast)

- https://thatsnotcanon.com/offwiththefairies

Famous Assassinations

- Georgi Markov: Death by Ricin via umbrella - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Georgi_Markov

- Alexander Litvinenko: Death by radioactive polonium-210 poisoning - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alexander_Litvinenko

- Other famous assassinations - https://www.theguardian.com/world/2018/mar/06/poisoned-umbrellas-and-polonium-russian-linked-uk-deaths

No Russian (Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 mission)

- https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/No_Russian

Spec Ops: The Line’s new feature

- https://www.eurogamer.net/articles/2012-02-09-spec-ops-the-line-lets-you-shoot-unarmed-civilians-angry-mobs

Songs of a War Boy by Deng Adut

- https://www.amazon.com.au/Songs-War-Boy-bestselling-biography-ebook/dp/B01HDL3LI6

Mobile Suit Gundam: Iron-Blooded Orphans (Mecha anime series)

- https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mobile_Suit_Gundam:_Iron-Blooded_Orphans

First impressions of 2019 Call of Duty: Modern Warfare by Dean Takahashi

- https://venturebeat.com/2019/05/30/call-of-duty-modern-warfare-impressions-taking-war-in-a-frightening-direction/

Call of Duty: Black Ops 4 no single campaign

- https://www.polygon.com/2018/5/18/17366980/call-of-duty-black-ops-4-no-single-player-campaign

EA calls loot boxes “surprise mechanics”

- https://www.pcgamer.com/au/ea-calls-loot-boxes-surprise-mechanics-and-compares-them-to-kinder-eggs/

Zoids (Franchise)

- https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zoids

Zoids anime series in chronological order

- Zoids: Chaotic Century (1999 anime series) - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zoids:_Chaotic_Century

- Zoids: New Century (2001 anime series) - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zoids:_New_Century

Internet Chat Programs

IRC (Internet Chat Relay) - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Internet_Relay_Chat

ICQ - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/ICQ

Dial up internet

- https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dial-up_Internet_access

Napster (file sharing program)

- https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Napster

Chris Hemsworth gets a Hollywood star

- https://metro.co.uk/2019/06/21/chris-hemsworth-scores-himself-a-star-on-the-hollywood-walk-of-fame-10023662/

R.I.P Bryan Marshall (1938 – 2019)

- Bio - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bryan_Marshall

- Captain Talbot (007 character played by Bryan Marshall) - https://jamesbond.fandom.com/wiki/Commander_Talbot

Criminal penguins narrated by David Attenborough

- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M--8devfaaA

Shoutouts

21 Jun 2019 - BATMAN Finally Gets a Star on HOLLYWOOD Walk of Fame - https://www.newsarama.com/45714-batman-finally-gets-a-star-on-hollywood-walk-of-fame.html

24 Jun 2019 – 30 Years since Australia First Connected To The Internet - https://www.gizmodo.com.au/2019/06/30-years-since-australia-first-connected-to-the-internet-weve-come-a-long-way/

25 Jun 2019 – 10 years since Michael Jackson died - https://news.yahoo.com/looking-back-michael-jacksons-legacy-195632565.html

Remembrances

25 Jun 1997 - Jacques Cousteau was a French naval officer, explorer, conservationist, filmmaker, innovator, scientist, photographer, author and researcher who studied the sea and all forms of life in water. He co-developed the Aqua-lung, pioneered marine conservation and was a member of the Académie française. Cousteau described his underwater world research in a series of books, perhaps the most successful being his first book, The Silent World: A Story of Undersea Discovery and Adventure, published in 1953. Cousteau also directed films, most notably the documentary adaptation of the book, The Silent World, which won a Palme d'or at the 1956 Cannes Film Festival. He died of a heart attack in Paris - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jacques_Cousteau

25 Jun 2009 – Michael Jackson was an American singer, songwriter, and dancer. Dubbed the "King of Pop", he is regarded as one of the most significant cultural figures of the 20th century and one of the greatest entertainers. Jackson's contributions to music, dance, and fashion, along with his publicized personal life, made him a global figure in popular culture for over four decades. Michael made his professional debut in 1964 with his elder brothers Jackie,Tito,Jermaine, and Marlon as a member of the Jackson 5. He began his solo career in 1971 while at Motown Records, and in the early 1980s, became a dominant figure in popular music. His music videos, including those for "Beat It", "Billie Jean", and "Thriller" from his 1982 album Thriller. Through stage and video performances, Jackson popularized complicated dance techniques such as the robot and the moonwalk, to which he gave the name. His sound and style have influenced artists of various genres. He died of homicide at 50 in Los Angeles, California - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Michael_Jackson

25 Jun 2011 - Annie Easley was a female African-American computer scientist, mathematician, and rocket scientist. She worked for the Lewis Research Center (now Glenn Research Center) of the National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA) and its predecessor, the National Advisory Committee for Aeronautics (NACA). She was a leading member of the team which developed software for the Centaur rocket stage, and was one of the first African-Americans to work as a computer scientist at NASA. She died of natural causes in Cleveland, Ohio - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Annie_Easley

Famous Birthdays

25 Jun 1903 - George Orwell, was an English novelist and essayist, journalist and critic, whose work is characterised by lucid prose, awareness of social injustice, opposition to totalitarianism, and outspoken support of democratic socialism. As a writer, Orwell produced literary criticism and poetry, fiction and polemical journalism; and is best known for the allegorical novella Animal Farm and the dystopian novel Nineteen Eighty-Four. In 2008, The Times ranked George Orwell second among "The 50 greatest British writers, since 1945". Orwell's work remains influential in popular culture and in political culture, and the adjective "Orwellian" — describing totalitarian and authoritarian social practices — is part of the English language, like many of his neologisms, such as "Big Brother", "Thought Police", and "Hate week", "Room 101", the "memory hole", and "Newspeak", "doublethink" and "proles", "unperson" and "thoughtcrime". He was born in Motihari,Bengal Presidency which is present-day East Champaran, Bihar - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/George_Orwell

25 Jun 1928 – Peyo, Belgian cartoonist, best-known for his comic strips The Smurfs and Johan and Peewit, in which the Smurfs first appeared. In 1960, Peyo founded a studio to accommodate his assistants such as François Walthéry, Gos, and Marc Wasterlain and created the series Steven Strong and Jacky and Célestin. Peyo's output diminished in the 1970s, at first due to the time he invested in the film The Smurfs and the Magic Flute (1976); in the 1980s, he put in more time, despite recurring health problems, into an American adaptation of The Smurfs as an animated television series. He was born in Brussels - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Peyo

25 Jun 1864 - Walther Hermann Nernst, German chemist known for his work in thermodynamics, physical chemistry, electrochemistry, and solid state physics. His formulation of the Nernst heat theorem helped pave the way for thethird law of thermodynamics, for which he won the 1920 Nobel Prize in Chemistry. He is also known for developing the Nernst equation in 1887. He was born in Briesen,West Prussia which is now Wąbrzeźno,Poland - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Walther_Nernst

Events of Interest

23 Jun 1989 – Tim Burton’s Batman was released worldwide - https://www.smh.com.au/entertainment/movies/batman-turns-30-all-of-the-big-screen-batmen-definitively-ranked-20190624-p520m4.html

24 Jun 1994 – The Lion King was released worldwide - https://www.eonline.com/news/1049787/the-lion-king-turns-25-everything-you-need-to-know-about-disney-s-original-trip-to-pride-rock

25 Jun 1678 – Venetian Elena Cornaro Piscopia is the first woman awarded a doctorate of philosophy when she graduates from the University of Padua. - https://wordsmusicandstories.wordpress.com/2017/06/25/25-june-1678-the-first-woman-who-graduated/

25 Jun 2018 - Harley-Davidson plans to shift some motorcycle production away from the US to avoid the "substantial" burden of European Union tariffs. - https://www.bbc.com/news/business-44604280

Intro

Artist – Goblins from Mars

Song Title – Super Mario - Overworld Theme (GFM Trap Remix)

Song Link - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-GNMe6kF0j0&index=4&list=PLHmTsVREU3Ar1AJWkimkl6Pux3R5PB-QJ

Follow us on Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/NerdsAmalgamated/

Email - Nerds.Amalgamated@gmail.com

Twitter - https://twitter.com/NAmalgamated

Spotify - https://open.spotify.com/show/6Nux69rftdBeeEXwD8GXrS

iTunes - https://itunes.apple.com/au/podcast/top-shelf-nerds/id1347661094

RSS - http://www.thatsnotcanonproductions.com/topshelfnerdspodcast?format=rss

[dontfindyourcenter]

Chapter 9/Trial 3:  Trial hard with a vengeance

Rules: https://dontfindyourcenter.tumblr.com/post/177027661290/rules

Previous Chapter: https://dontfindyourcenter.tumblr.com/post/177417565235/chapter-8trial-2-grass-and-electric-boogaloo

Ok guys, I know I’m meant to go to the Battle Royal Dome.  I know the game spent a whole lot of the last chapter name dropping the Battle Royal.  I know that I am, eventually, going to have to go into the Battle Royal Dome.

But I don’t have to go in yet.  And that makes me kind of curious!  Since the very beginning of this game, I’ve been unable to wander too far ahead of the plot development in front of me.  When I had to go to the trial on Brooklet Hill, two unbattlable Sudowoodo stood in the way of route 6; when I first touched down in Heahea City, a man riding a Stoutland blocked the way to the other half of Heahea City; and I can hardly think of a single pathway from one part of Melemele Island to another that wasn’t originally blocked off by either a tauros, a barrier, or the disembodied voice of an NPC.  So with nobody blocking off the alley leading away from the Battle Royal Dome, how far can I actually go without going in?

All the way to the top of Wela Volcano Park, as it turns out!  It’s only when I get to the gates of the third trial when someone finally says “uh, you can’t go in here, you have to have a cutscene introducing the trial captain after the Battle Royal first.”  I’m glad the game is starting to recognise that it doesn’t need to hold the player’s hand quite so tightly, and I celebrate my freedom by picking up all the items I can find both inside the Volcano Park and in the watery area outside on route seven, including the TMs for Thunder Wave and Rock Tomb..  Poor Hau and Gladion are probably going bored out of their minds waiting for me to turn up, and I don’t care one bit.

All right, I think that’s everything.  Let’s see what this Battle Royal fuss is about, shall we?

Oh yeah - the Masked Royal is here to inject the game with campy fun!  Something that I really enjoy about this game is that - as far as I’m aware - his true identity is technically never revealed.  Oh, a lot of people in the game make some wild accusations about it being Professor Kukui, but apart from the two characters sharing their skin colour, little goatee, signature pokemon, and habit of baring their chests… there’s no actual proof.  Ok, also I guess they reveal later in the game that Kukui owns a mask that looks identical to the Masked Royal’s one, but what, are we meant to believe wrestling merch isn’t a thing in this world?  Headcanon:  Kukui is just a massive fanboy of the Masked Royal’s.

The Masked Royal ropes me, Hau and Gladion into a battle royal, then says “and now we have our foursome.  Woo!”  Please don’t call it that, mister Royal, you’re a barely-clothed grown man talking to a group of children.

Anyway, the Battle Royal starts, with Hedwig going toe to toe with Royal’s rockruff, Gladion’s type:null and Hau’s brionne.  Having met Hau before, I know that he’s the weakest player here, so I focus all my attacks on his brionne.  His brionne faints.  The Battle Royal is over.  What a terrible introduction to a cool new feature of the game.

And having finished that, we get the cutscene with Trial Captain Kiawe I was promised!  The camera immediately focuses on his bare chest, where it becomes apparent that he’s wearing a necklace in the shape of a games console’s “+” control pad.  Dude, we get it, you’re a gamer.

I’ve already pointed out how much of an edgelord Gladion is, and he’s at it again here, doing a whole monologue about he and his pokemon have to make it on while covering half of his face with his hand.  “Oh no the disembodied hand from before is back and it wants my eye!  Flee!  Flee for your lives!”  Even Hau picks up on how over-the-top it all is, calling him a “ray of sunshine” as he walks away.  I get the feeling there’s probably a lot of fanfiction about those two.

All that done, my pokemon have been fully healed.  Don’t know who did that or when, but I’ll take it.  And just in time for the third trial, too!  To Wela Volcano Park, everyone!

Since I can remember that this trial doesn’t let you switch the order of your team around between battles, I put Celine McQueen the Slowpoke in first position, because I think she’ll have the best chance against the totem pokemon.  In the meantime, though, I don’t want her getting tired out, so I switch her out to other members of my party to take care of the non-totem pokemon.

First up is a dancing alolan marowak, and since it’s part ghost type, I switch to Jabba the alolan grimer.  Jabba does a fair bit of damage by biting it, but here’s the bit I stupidly overlooked; it’s a marowak.  That means it knows Bone Club.  That leaves Jabba on less than half health.  Correctly assuming that the marowak will use Bone Club again, I switch to Hedwig, who’s immune to ground type moves, and since he outspeeds marowak, he’s able to finish the marowak off with no trouble.

Next up, the internet’s favourite photobombing Hiker, who sends out a magmar.  My initial response is to send out Wash the trumbeak, since he’s a strong pokemon that is nevertheless unlikely to be particularly useful in the totem battle.  The magmar thwarts me, though, by continuously using smokescreen until Wash’s moves have no chance of hitting at all.  Frustrated, I apply a super potion to Jabba and send him out again, and he’s able to beat the magmar with a couple of Rock Tombs.

Finally, the totem Salazzle!  Her aura flares to life and boosts her special defense, which frankly stops Celine being quite the secret weapon I was hoping for - the only psychic- and water-type moves she currently knows are both special attacks, and her special attack isn’t her best stat to begin with.  I think this battle’s going to be a toughie.  She starts things off with a Toxic attack, while Celine uses yawn, and then a wild salandit gets summoned to join in the fun.  Feeling like Celine might be more useful later on now that she’s already yawned, I switch out Nina.  It’s a good thing I do too, because the salandit uses venoshock, which does double damage on poisoned targets.  

Nina can take a hit, though, and now the totem is asleep, so she doesn’t have to worry about being hit by toxic.  I decide that it might be useful to use sand-attack a couple of times, hoping that I’ll get the totem’s accuracy low enough by the time she wakes up that I won’t have to worry about Toxic quite so much.  No such luck though, because the supporting salandit uses taunt, stopping me from using any other status moves.  I use rock throw instead, and end up doing quite a bit of damage before she wakes up and uses toxic.  Luckily, the salandit only uses poison gas, which is useless with Nina already poisoned.  Still, time to switch out to someone new, I think.

I choose to send out Wash, the only pokemon on full health without a major weakness against my opponents.  It’s at this point that the single sand-attack I managed to use earlier surprisingly pays off; Salazzle’s attack misses, and Wash is able to use two whole attacks against it during his time in battle.  Even better, one of those moves is pluck, so I can rob the Salazzle of an advantage I didn’t even know it had - a Petaya berry, which (had it not been stolen) would have raised her special attack as a result of that very hit.

Less fortunately, Wash is only on 8 HP now, so I have to switch pokemon again.  I’m quickly learning that this is a pretty major disadvantage when you’re facing two pokemon against one, since it gives both opponents a free move.  So even though the salazzle won’t be able to take another hit, the pokemon I switch in will have to be able to take four hits in order to deal that finishing blow (unless it manages to outspeed the salazzle, but the only pokemon likely to do that is Hedwig, who definitely can’t take three hits from these guys).  Since both my opponents seem to mostly use poison-type moves, I think my best bet is Jabba.

I was wrong. Salazzle uses Flame Burst and it does much more damage than I was expecting, and salandit uses scratch.  Jabba faints.  ...That’s not great.

Ok, wait, maybe I can use a revive and still salvage this.  Celine might be poisoned, but she’s on nearly-full health.  If I let out Celine and use the revive, she’ll still be able to take two hits, and then I’ll be able to switch pokemon to someone else and be really sure that salazzle won’t use flame burst, because that’s a terrible move to use on a slowpoke.  It’ll be ok.  Here we go.

I was wrong again guys, venoshock did more damage that I was expecting too, Celine dies.  Fuck.  

I guess it’s time to accept that not everyone is going to make it out alive.

Resigned to that fate, I actually manage to finish the battle without all that much trouble.  With Celine dead, I’m able to send out Hedwig without giving the other two any free moves.  Hedwig doesn’t outspeed the salazzle in the end, but does manage to evade her attack and finish her off.  At this point, I realise that I actually already know all four of the salandit’s moves and none of them are fire-type moves, so I switch in Digit Al, who beats it easily.  But with Celine dead, it’s a bittersweet victory.  I’ll really have to train more before the next trial.  Sorry, Celine McQueen.  

Still, on the plus side, the average quality of my team’s nicknames has just shot up.

Weird plot hole here, by the way.  Kiawe says “the totem pokemon was carrying a firium z.  It is yours now.”  That’s a bare-faced lie!  The totem was carrying that petaya berry, and even totems can’t carry more than one item!  What’s that all about?  Still, Kiawe gives me ten quick balls, which should be helpful for catching Celine’s replacement.  I can let him off for telling a weird lie.

On my way out of the mountain, I catch a cubone to fill Celine’s slot in my party.  Since I know she’ll evolve into an alolan marowak, I call her Donna, after the Mamma Mia character.  You see, she’s a dancing queen, and there’s a fire within her soul.  Could have been worse, when all is said and done.

End of chapter 9

[raellekaia]

What does it mean to be alive? Many of us go through each day taking for granted that we know the difference between the living and non-living--most of us heard something in a science class about it. There's a list of 8 or 9 traits or characteristics that is supposed to pin down whether something is alive. And yet, really, those traits are better understood as describing whether or not something is an organism according to the storied traditions of biological science.

When we use the term "alive," most of us are talking about something else.

That's why we have created archetypes of the undead in our cultural language: zombies and vampires most readily come to mind. They are metaphors for human beings who continue living after the most vital part of them is already dead. We can also talk about being on "autopilot" in our lives or in moments of our lives, and this refers to some kind of mechanistic quality that take control of our actions. Airplanes can be on autopilot because they're machines. They aren't alive. And by the same token, when a human being is on autopilot, she isn't alive either. Another term in the language is that of a "ghost." Ghosts aren't "undead" the same way zombies or vampires are, they are fully dead. They are usually trapped in the past, stuck on a loop. It's hard to communicate with them, if possible at all. You can't touch them— they are transparent, see-through. They blip in and out of existence.

I wrote the song "Am I Alive" in answer to the question: "When do you feel lonely?" There's this terrible quality of loneliness in which it cannot be diminished in the presence of others. In fact, the loneliness often grows even stronger in the presence of others. I've written about this phenomenon before—it's something I've experienced increasingly in recent years. A lot of it has to do with the growing dominance of the internet, social media, and tech in our lives. These past five years have been a juggernaut of social desolation for some of us. Case in point: here I am, in this very instant, typing words into a screen, alone, in an attempt to share what's inside me with others. There is so much that is futile about what I'm doing right now. Social media is designed for instant pictures, memes, and blurbs, or "tweets." When discussion takes place, it almost invariably devolves into name-calling and ranting. There is something poisonous at work here. It's in full display in the White House: our first "Reality President," elected by Facebook and Twitter.

I digress. As more of our lives have been swallowed by the digital nether-beast, in-person connections have been diminished. I'm old and creaky enough to remember when connections had to happen in person—before technology started filtering everything through a screen of emails, texts, and apps. On the other hand, plenty of people feel perfectly connected in the new paradigm. Not me. It's not just the paradigm, though. Part of it is intrinsic—this fundamental condition of life that is separation. Many spiritual paths point toward non-duality, non-separation, interbeing. At some point on the spiritual journey, the seeker is supposed to reach a level of enlightenment in which self slips away and a oneness is felt with all that is. At the state of complete enlightenment, this sense of oneness becomes permanent, and the separate self is gone forever.

There's another way for the separate self to dissolve, and that's dying. Many traditions incorporate a doctrine of reincarnation—I believe this is kind of a fail-safe to keep people on the path. The idea is that dying isn't really dying—not unless you've already died to yourself in your life. If not, you get reborn. In other words, you have to keep living forever until you're finally sick enough of living that you're willing to die to yourself. Then, and only then, do you attain bliss. But there's not really a you there anymore to be in bliss—you are now one with The All. If this reincarnation did not exist, why go through all the trouble of dying to yourself while alive? You're going to get there anyway when you die. There will be a time of fear as you experience your life slipping away, and then it's gone—and you are one, united, whole. This is my belief.

There may be an aspect of ourselves that reincarnates, but if so, when it does, it won't remember having been one person or another. You might be able to catch a glimpse of this through a past-life regression meditation or something, but really, what does it matter? There is a part of us that is alive, that has a separate identity from the other beings and things around us. And there is another part of us that is eternal—with no identity—it is the consciousness of all things—of all beings. We get to experience that non-dual state when we die, so why not really try to live the hell out of life while we have it? Isn't that what it's here for?

Well, sometimes life gets so painful that it's just not possible to live the hell out of it anymore. Maybe this is what is happening when loneliness sets in. It really starts to sink in that life itself means eternal separation—unless you die to yourself while still living—unless you release your attachment to your separate self. But what happens if you dearly love your separate self? It can be really hard to let her go. There's so much you want her to share, to honor, to give—and yet none of it can ever be truly known by another—and one can never truly know them either. And so then grief sets in. The grief of separation—and also the grief of knowing that the separate self must be abandoned, or you must die—in order to find release from the pain of separation. In a non-dual state, I suppose, one would not feel grief at having lost attachment to one's individuality. What would there be to grieve? You would have everything with you, all the time. But when you're still attached to your individual self it feels like such a betrayal, such an abandonment to let her go. To say, in effect: "Good luck with your hopes and your dreams—good luck with your desires and fears—I'm gonna go hang out in nirvana forever. Peace out, bra. You aren't even real anyway, so... whatev's."

The final nail of loneliness: that you must abandon your own self to be free from it. Your poor, lost, scared self: finally left all alone by the only person who was ever really there for her. The only one who ever knew all the jewels of love, emotion, thoughts, ideas, humor, memory and hope she carried within her—finally that person has abandoned her too.

And so, finally, that seems to be what it means to be alive: to be lonely. Wrecked by grief and loneliness, there she lies, there you lay. And isn't this the deep irony and contradiction? If this sorry state is the effect of living, than what is living really? Does it just mean my heart is beating and electricity is buzzing through my brain? If there's no oomph, no joy of life, can one really be alive? Is one really alive as a ghost, as a machine, as a zombie? To feel this depth of loneliness, one must carry an equal depth of longing—the longing to be known by another. This longing is the essence of loneliness, because you will never be known by another, not really. No one will ever know you one thousandth as well as you know yourself.

And if you love this self of yours—if to you, living fully means bringing this self, this unique being that has never been before and could never be again, bringing her right into the thick of the world to be known and seen and loved, then your heart will be broken. Your heart will break again and again. I heard it said once that the heart breaks until it stays open. I'm not sure what that means, exactly, but I know I'm not there yet. This broken heart is bound to get smashed up a lot more times yet, I can tell.

But in the meantime, I wrote this song:

Am I Alive?

The rivers flow And the sun is shining bright The winds blow And crickets sing at night The rain falls And dogs howl at the moon The mist crawls And dawn is breaking soon

Well, these eyes are made for seeing Not for believing I’m living and I’m breathing So get busy leaving Tell me when are you lonely?

When I’m alive, alive I’m alive, alive

I’ve got a body you could feel But there’s no one here I must have ghosted my soul ‘Cause I’m just a hole

Isn’t it funny To think that this is life It bears no resemblance To the love I had in mind

I see your face But I’ve got nothing to say You’re talking about stuff And isn’t that enough? I can’t recall the day When the world sang out my name And I don’t even know what I’d do If I remembered how to break through

I’m  floating like a bubble Headed for trouble Can a heart beat, when it’s broken? A deal soul awoken?

Well, you’re always alone When you’re alive, alive And I’m alive, alive

They tell me, that I’m living As if it were a given But I wonder, if you’ll even Miss me when you’re dreaming

And if I wasn’t lonely Would I be alive, alive I’m alive, alive

Am I alive, alive Am I alive, alive Am I alive, alive A: (Capo on 2nd Fret) Range = E3-C#4 – 11

1: [GGCC][eeDD](x4) 2: [CCDD][GaDD](x2)|[CCaD] 3: [GGCC][GGDD](x2) 4: [CCDD][GCeD](x2) 5: [aaee](x4) 6: [eeee][e…]

Song Structure: 1-2-3 / 4-5 / 1-2-3 / 2-3-3-6

Raelle Kaia © 2018

Displayed image is from the public domain and was not created by Raelle Kaia.

[delightfulcollectiontacothi-blog]

Why You Need to Acquire A GoPro Hero Camera

Why You Should really Invest in A GoPro Hero Digital camera

You may well also perform or market as many treasure cards from your hand as you want. Most treasure cards are really worth 2 coins every if you sell them. There are also some playing cards like scrolls and potions that have outcomes when performed, and playing cards that are well worth details at the close of the recreation. You have a hand restrict of 7 cards—if you have more than that at the conclusion of your change, you should play or sell cards until eventually you have 7 or much less. When the king’s herald is drawn, absolutely everyone bids an volume of cash simultaneously—whoever bids maximum pays the funds to the provide and requires the card, which is truly worth 4 details. Everybody else keeps their funds. In circumstance of a tie, the card is discarded. The end of the recreation is brought on when the king card is drawn: each individual player gets 1 much more turn, and then the video game ends. If you have ample mana, you must be casting this each time achievable. The attack and motion speed raise it presents will make your staff mates un-escapable. Enables Ogre Magi to solid spells multiple instances with each use. Fully levelled up, Multicast provides you a probability to solid each of your talents four times. This signifies that, if you are fortunate, you can kill an enemy with one Fireblast. Blasts an enemy unit with a wave of hearth, dealing destruction and spectacular the focus on. This can only be received by buying an Aghanim’s Scepter. It functions like a typical Fireblast but costs 60% of all your remaining mana, so use it final. Ogre Magi is a incredibly difficult assistance who has each effective capabilities and the capacity to trade blows with enemy heroes. Enable the have to farm in the early recreation by utilizing your skills to fend off enemy heroes. When it’s time to start battling, initiate with your Fireblast just before casting Bloodlust on an ally. Then simply bash the enemy to death. You can use Ignite to to gradual down any fleeing foes, as properly as making use of it to simply assist in the combat.

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[mondaynightsteve]

Sucking Your Own Dick Isn’t All It’s Cracked Up To Be

He took it very seriously.  He practiced every day.  He maintained a healthy weight, worked out his core constantly, and he made sure to jerk off regularly.  Indeed, working out your cock plays just as big a role as everything else.

It took him 10 years, from the moment he discovered masturbation, until he was finally flexible enough to touch his lips to the tip of his penis, but he really honed his craft so to speak over the last year or two.  Then, it was another full year of daily practice before he could inch his way inside his own mouth.  He’d never forget the first time he was able to blow himself to completion; he wanted to shout his accomplishment from the rooftops.

But, how could he?  Who could he tell?  All of his friends had long ago given up the dream.  They’d settled for going to college, starting their careers, getting married, having families.  And it’s not like their kids were old enough to be impressed with his achievement!  Stupid toddlers.

The Internet forums weren’t any better.  Half the time, he was shouting into an ocean of haters calling him a faggot; the other half of the time he couldn’t help but feel insecure around those who’d been naturally inclined with the gifts to reach their own cocks with their own mouths at a very early age.  Kings of their middle schools, they were!

He still had to strain and grunt his way through a self-blowjob; they were talking about a variety of positions!  You know, to keep it fresh and exciting, when sucking your own dick might otherwise become dull and rudimentary.  He had to face facts, lying on the floor with your legs over your head was the missionary position of sucking your own dick.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, he also had to deal with the fact that it did absolutely nothing for the ladies.  Which really made little sense; if he saw a woman who could go down on herself, he’d be rock hard in no time!  And yet, whenever he was able to get them alone in a bedroom in willing anticipation of mutual intercourse, all he got in return for his foreplay of showing off his talent was confused looks.  Confused looks and excuses along the lines of, “You know, I actually have a work thing in the morning.”

“Oh, okay, sure.  Hey, do you mind if I finish though?  I mean, I’m already halfway there, and it’s a long ride back to my place.”

“Uhh, yeahhh.  Just, try not to make a mess.”

She stepped into the adjoining bathroom and started to brush her teeth.  He kept steady eye contact over the flopping of his testicles, hoping that his enthusiasm combined with the mechanical whirring of her electric toothbrush would seduce her into changing her mind, but even though he timed it so they’d both spit at the same time - she into the sink, he onto his own chest - it didn’t prevent her from gagging and nearly making a run for her toilet.  The constant double-thumbs up as he was going to town probably didn’t help either.

With quiet solemnity, he accepted the wadded up toilet paper she handed him, brushing himself off against the grain of his chest hair.  He let a couple weeks go by before he tried texting her again, but a “new phone who dis?” was his reward.