#Tagging them because their tags are to small to be populated by me being nuts.

[yearnin-cryptid]

10 and 11 for the ask game!!

Yesssss thank you Starr!!! :D Throwing the Diss Pair polycule for this one because, as my friend said, I'm gay!

“The Carpal Tunnel of Love” - If you two go on dates, what’s the worst date you’ve ever gone on? What went wrong? Did you find a way to maybe salvage or fix it? Is it something funny you can look back on or is it something you never speak of again? If you don’t really do dates, what would be the theoretical worst date scenario for both of you? Ohhh Lord, listen; some date between those three are great. Some are weird but still fun. And then there are the ones where they come home and just change, shower, or whatever and go to bed. Worst date; Warabi took Myst with them to a rave and it was going great until they got separated and found Myst anxiously bawling because they lost track of Warabi and got over stimulated by everyone being near them. Ikkan and Warabi once came home from a date both covered in mud while Myst was just drawing on the couch. Niehter of them said anything, just headed to the showers and when Ikkan went to bed, Warabi came out with an ice pack on his head. Myst decides against asking. As for with Ikkan and Myst, they had a turfbattle date once where they weren't looking at what where they were aiming and completely knocked each other out. It's a little romantic to be passed out on the turf war ink with you partner though. They really had to scrub off that ink after that match.

“Bang the Doldrums” - Is there any characterization/headcanon of your f/o that you absolutely can’t stand? Or is there just anything that bothers you about how people might perceive them? It’s okay, it’s time to be a hater. OHH okay so here is the thing! I think in general there is just a very unsure interpretation of them because we have, what? Two articles one either of them? Not even that, Warabi has a paragraph and some change while Ikkan has a small page. So really everyone has a different idea for them. I will say that someone wrote a fic where Warabi was an incel and that definitely has my ire. Like???? Warabi?? WARABI??? Okay sure whatever. My friend also said they thought Ikkan looked like a incel so I can't win I guess lol.

Infinity on High Self Ship Asks

[black-mesa-slut-voice]

THE ERRANTEL

[ More info below the cut! ]

Due to popular demand, I finally made a ref sheet for the species my Swap Benrey’s belongs to- the Errantel. 

Their name, originally, had no human translation, since they are not from Earth. Benrey himself describes it as loosely translating to “Unkillable hobo”, though Tommy thought it was too long, and seemed... rude, almost. So, with the help of his friend Forzen, they came up with the term Errantel; a combination of the words for “immortal wanderer” in french. 

Biologically, Errentel are very interesting species, as they’ve earned their reputation for being “unkillable”. They’re essentially the equivalent of giant, interdimensional tardigrades. They can withstand nearly all conditions- the vacuum of space, temperatures hot enough to usually make things combust, and temperatures nearing true zero. This grants them safety when they manage to worm their way through dimensions and travel to different planets that might be otherwise inhabitable. 

Not only that, but they are also proficient at rudimentary “shapeshifting”- they can compress and expand the mass of their form, ranging from very very small to extremely large; rivaling skyscrapers. Their average size is normally a healthy in between- the size of a two-story house (the size that Benrey took during the final battle). 

They can also shift the amount of limbs, mouths, eyes, and other features they possess, with some restrictions mentioned above. This allows Benrey to take an arguably very humanlike form to better fit in with his coworkers.  Their diet is extremely varied. Their near unkillable state and rapid healing is because of their physiology. In short- their body is made of completely different things than ours, so they need a wide range of nutrients and minerals to stay healthy and unkillable. This is what causes the most competition amongst them- sometimes even eating other Errantels for the specific nutrients in their bodies. 

Socially, they’re sapient; generally human-level intelligence, sometimes slightly above (mostly due to their outstanding lifespans). How they are seen, however, varies wildly between dimensions, planets, species and societies. In some places, they’re considered normal people. They could, arguably, wander into a space McDonald’s and get a job, and be treated as a normal person. In other places, they’re considered wild beasts, to be avoided or even hunted for sport. 

Amongst their own species, they’re pretty extreme. Honestly, because of their extreme lifespans and nearly unkillable status, the only thing keeping their population in check is... well, their own species, and the fact that they’re so widespread. 

When an Errantel meets another (or honestly, any species they see as ‘equals’), they see them as competition. Rivals, in a sense. One of the few things that can truly threaten them. And so, their main goal is to remove that competition by any means necessary. This can go one of three ways:

Put enough distance between them that they don’t have to compete. This is pretty easily done, considering they can worm through dimensions and travel through the void of space to reach entirely new planets.

Kill each other. Errantels are, unfortunately, highly cannibalistic. The can and will eat other Errantels if they see them as threats, or even as weaker. Some of them will even eat their eggs and young in times of duress or if they simply don’t want to have any at the moment. 

Become partners. And I don’t put that lightly- Errantel ‘partnerships’ are almost complete codependency; putting their full trust, safety, heart and soul into each other. They’ll trust each other with their lives, share their food, young- and even other partners. It’s not unusual to have a group of 2-5 Errantels all in a polyamorous partnership. This eliminates the competition and threat of death through a much more friendly way.

So, a meeting between two Errantels usually starts as a long winded display at a distance, dancing around each other and judging whether or not they’re going to partner up, fight, or flee. There are no half-measures among them- you will almost never see two Errantel hanging out together for fun. Though, of course, in a social situation, most of them can behave long enough to share a space in a formal environment (think about having to go to a meeting with your ex. Sure, you don’t like it and there’s tension, but you put up with it for formalities). 

When communicating, Errantels use a communication system composed of a high-dense light, sound, and color they can expel from their mouth, which can help communicate emotions both visually and sensually (”Sweet voice”). My guide for Sweet Voice is the same one I use for the Errantels.  They’re very intelligent, however, and commonly learn other languages as well. 

When it comes to reproducing, Errantel can go two ways. They can reproduce both sexually and asexually! All Errantels have both bits, so any Errantell can reproduce with another. When done sexually, it’s pretty much only ever with those they’ve partnered with- there’s very little ‘infidelity’ amongst partnerships, or even one night stands for single Errantels. The children produced are just like humans in where they can have features of both parents, though other mutations are pretty common. 

When done asexually, it is something they can choose to do if they want a child but either don’t have any partners, or their partner can’t reproduce for some reason. Young produced this way are usually very similar to the parent- if not identical- but not always! Due to variations in DNA and self-alteration of sexual cells, as well as mutations, asexually produced young are usually slightly-off versions of the parent. Joshua, for example, was created this way- he’s almost identical to Benrey in every way except for a slightly different skin tone, and different colored eyes. 

Also, because they don’t differ at all between what’s in their pants and travel so many dimensions, Errantel have little care for gender or how they’re perceived. Most will go by whatever neutral pronouns a language has, or will simply use any pronoun- though of course, some do enjoy being gendered and are free to do so. 

Errantels also lay eggs. They’re usually in batches of 1-3; any larger and you risk the parents eating the extras to save resources. They’re usually the size of chicken eggs, and Errantel will often shift down smaller during this to hide away and go unnoticed. 

A freshly hatched Errantel simply looks like a very small adult- except for the fact that their ‘fur’ is white instead of black, and they’re usually much more covered in it. As they become juveniles, their white fur quickly starts molting away into the signature black color. 

Once their fur is molted into being fully black, they’re technically able to survive on their own. However, good parents often keep them around much longer than this, until they’ve reached full and true maturity. Once they’re old enough, they usually voluntarily leave to go find their own territories and partnerships!

 Errantels can continue to breed throughout their whole lifetimes, and so their territory will often be surrounded by the territories of their children- and so each child reared often has farther and farther to travel to reach an uninhabited space. This can be quite dangerous, but most make it. And thus,  the whole cycle starts again!

FAQ

So this is what your Benrey is? Sort of. Mainly just my Swap AU Benrey and Joshua- my other Benreys are all completely different, really.

What the fuck is your Swap AU? It’s my Roleswap AU for HLVRAI. Benrey is the scientist and Gordon is the guard, etc etc. You can find out more about it here, and this is the tag I have for it on my tumblr!

Can I make an OC of this species? Fuck yeah! Go nuts, dude! The only thing I ask of you is that 1) You give credit if anyone asks what they are, and 2) send them to me! I’d love to see them! 

If I do make an OC/Use this species, does it have to be HLVRAI? Nope. Because they travel dimensions, they can arguably appear in any media- if you want you can use them for anything. Original universes, other fandoms, other AUs of any sort, etc etc! Same rules apply as above- credit, and I’d like to see them!

Can they be albino/melanistic/piebald? I’m gonna say yes because it’s cool as hell. Love that shit.

My question isn’t answered here! Help??? I have an ask box and you are 100% welcome to use it! I’d love to talk more about these guys and anything I didn’t cover.

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS | CHAPTER 5

Rating: Explicit.

‼️TW: Reader is EIGHTEEN! Recreational drug use, smoking and alcohol consumption, deeply internalised self-loathing, very questionable moral standards. Daddy kink taken half-seriously. BDSM themes in later chapters - explicit content will come with it's own TWs. FIRST PERSON POV.

Summary: You're Peter's classmate, a child of rich and famous but uncaring parents. Getting paired up for a lengthy project with the boy was an interesting turn of events and you don't know whether to feel blessed or cursed when you develop, seemingly, a perfectly normal, harmless crush on Tony Stark. Fueled by feelings of inadequacy and boredom, your life spirals out of control - and you're lucky your newfound friends are there to pick up the pieces even if you cannot find it in yourself to believe these amazing human (and not so human) beings voluntarily give you more than a fleeting glance and an offhanded thought. And they brought cake!

A/N: Revenge is sweet but a well-timed dick joke is sweeter. xoxo gossip girl. Please supervise one Bucky Barnes on the internet. Questionable music taste. Detention is the price we pay for justice. Bruce Banner is too precious for this world, too pure.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings @vozit​ @littlegasps​ @pilloclock​ @shereadsinquiet​ @downeyreads​ @hermione-grangers-wife​ @individualistfem​

Beta read by the lovely and patient @miscmarvelwritings ! 🎶🎵I love you biiitch ain't ever gonna stop loving you biiitch 🎵🎶

"Initiate phase one," I added a growly undertone to my whisper, holding my phone inconspicuously, as if I was making a simple phone call. There was no answer but I didn't expect one: I was testing the voice recorder app that I had downloaded for the sole purpose of documenting and relaying the inevitable fall of one Flash Thompson. 

Making my way through the crowd of students during the busiest time of the day, I made the most intrigued and outraged facial expression I possibly could. Spying my targets, I leaned against a nearby wall, putting a hand over my mouth in fake outrage, keeping my eyes wide and trained on the opposite wall. Just as I had predicted, the two sophomore girls started giving me side-eye by minute two of my staring and finally approached me as I contemplated the wall for whole five minutes.

"I'm sorry, are you okay?" The brunette asked, her blonde friend hanging a step back.

"Yeah, totally," I mumbled. "I'm, like, shook beyond imagination, but nothing, like, bad."

The girls traded a curious look, seemingly coming to some sort of conclusion. The greedy gleam in their eyes had me internally cheering. "What happened?" The blonde one asked, coming closer.

"I'm not sure if I should tell that to anyone," I stammered, watching them bodily move forward. "Well, okay, I can't keep quiet. But you must never, ever speak of it or I'll get expelled or something," I said nervously. They both nodded so rapidly it reminded me of Funko Pop figurines. "You know the senior guy, Flash? Brown hair, kinda hot?" Again, they both nodded, conspicuously grinning. "I think I just saw him in the closed girls bathroom on the third floor with, like, some brunette from Ms. Johnson's History class," They both gasped. Predictable. "But that's not the worst! They were like, y'know," I made an obscene gesture with my hand and they instantly covered their own mouths with their palms in shock. "And the chick was like 'is it in yet?' and he was like 'yah' and I just closed the door and ran, oh my god I hope they didn't hear me," I squealed at the end, playing the part of a mortified teenager.

All three of us giggled uncomfortably for a moment. The blonde girl stared at me suspiciously. "And what were you doing there?"

I faked a nervous stammer, looking around briefly and showing them my lighter for a moment. They both gasped and nodded in recognition. "Don't tell anybody or my mom is going to have kittens," I pleaded. Both of them nodded solemnly, noticing their own group of friends approach. I used the brief moment to get lost in the river of pupils and by the time they turned around to introduce me, I was already at the opposite part of the hallway.

For the time being, everything seemed peaceful. There were a few giggles and side-eyes directed towards Flash Thompson but nothing out of the ordinary. He was disliked by most of the student population even if nobody dared to admit it outright. I took care to walk around without my earbuds for the day and pulled out my phone to record the most interesting conversations around me whenever I caught the tell tale signs of a gossip mill beginning to run its course around the school.

"Oh my god, I heard about this girl that was caught fucking Flash in the girls bathroom and she literally said 'is it in yet', can you imagine the shock, jeez!"

"Some chick literally just rejected Flash because his dick was too small."

"Rebecca from AP chemistry told me someone saw Flash's micropenis. Poor guy!"

"I wonder if his girlfriend dumped him because he can't do shit, I mean, he doesn't look like the type to eat the kitty."

Those were just the highlights of the Friday afternoon. Come the weekend and the news of Flash's unfortunate condition will make the rounds through every single group chat that the school has and by the time Monday rolls around, nobody will have a clue who started the rumour in the first place. I had to carefully select the girls who were to distribute the rumour and I was happy with the outcome: Marissa and Layla with their squad of chatty, bored rich girls were the perfect choice. I thought they would jump at any opportunity to cause drama and I was right.

It was sufficient to say I was bristling with pride as I cut and compiled the audio track from today's school day before sending it to the group chat.

Clint, Peter and Natasha appeared online as soon as the message delivered and I was delighted at their response. Romanoff's kind words, specifically, made me all warm and mushy inside. I didn't resist the feeling, basked in it even as I did a happy dance around my room. Peter's nonsensical string of emojis was another point of laughter for me. 

It wasn't exactly the smartest way to go about killing Thompson's reputation... Alas, simplicity is the way to success when it comes to large crowds of teenagers. That tiny little vindictive part of me was very much looking forward to the weekend and the results of the inevitable distortion of the rumour I had started. Who knew, maybe by Monday Flash Thompson would not only have a micropenis but horns and hooves as well.

Near bedtime, I had all the avengers send me their regards and thumbs up. I answered the flurry of texts as quickly as I could but there was no point in keeping up with ten or so people constantly streaming their questions, opinions and comments. 

I settled on a single easiest response: pulling my dad's old uni sweatshirt over my tiny lacy pajamas to preserve some modesty, I settled in front of my mirror, turning on my Bluetooth speaker to play "Boss Ass Bitch". In true gen-z fashion, I put on my best resting witch face and solemnly lip-synced to the song's eponymous chorus. My eyeliner was sharp enough to cut paper and my prismatic highlighter glittered enigmatically in the cold light of my blue lava lamp.

The response was, once again, delightful and I genuinely belly-laughed at the adults' attempts to meme after Peter. His blushy face emoji started a whole nother conversation that I didn't participate in but watched from the sidelines with glee, snorting every time his friends and mentors gently teased him about the very obvious crush he harboured on me. 

Seeing Peter starting to go absolutely nuts, I interjected with an offer (more like a dare) of a lip sync battle. He jumped on the bandwagon, immediately going offline to undoubtedly film an epic video of what I thought would be dorky-dancing to some hipster song. I was pleasantly surprised when it turned out to be a pre-recorded tik tok video of him and Ned fighting with lightsabers while mouthing the words to Fergalicious that played over the Imperial March.

Weirdos. I still followed him on the app, though, it was pretty funny.

Bucky interjected with a very well executed rendition of "Bring Me to Life": he was wearing his full Winter Soldier get-up, complete with an AK-47, dramatically serenading Steve who looked seventeen shades of done with his partner's antics. Wanda's following twenty second voice message consisted of nothing but pure hysterical laughter, summing up everyone's reaction to the video. Bucky was going to go viral one of these days...

Obviously, I had good competition and nobody else seemed to want to participate so I rearranged my surroundings a little bit and stood up at my full height and swapped the old sweatshirt for a cute crop-top hoodie. My thigh-highs were on display and with my make-up, I looked like a proper internet e-girl. I leaned against the mirror as I mouthed along to the song with my best interpretation of the famous Lucifer smirk, seasoned with a tiny bit of angelic innocence: "Doctor, doctor, give me the news, I got a bad case of loving you..."

Needless to say, I won the competition. Eventually Wanda joined in, looking menacing and ominous with her dark clothes and Natasha's red hair flashing somewhere in the background; even Tony did a round (AC/DC as his soundtrack of course) with one of his Iron Man suits but nothing beat my stunt and the reaction that it caused.

I had accidentally called out Bruce with the choice of my song and his teammates gave both of us a lot of cheeky comments about it. We relented and flirted with each other a bit as the conversation flowed into more mundane discussion; I said my good nights somewhere between Tony's bitching about the hobbies of my generation and my nightly skincare routine. The little green heart that I'd become accustomed to over the past few weeks greeted me just as I was about to lock my phone.

Bruce was really too precious for this world. My crush on him was different than the one on Tony, it mellowed out in comparison. I wanted him to hold me, to stroke my hair, to call me his darling and wrap me up in one of those dorky button-ups that he insisted on wearing in spite of Tony's unwanted, however very valid, fashion advice.

For all that's worth, the scientist probably knew or at least suspected and had the good grace to play along just enough to satisfy my deep need for attention... Without crossing any actual lines. It was frustrating, it was disappointing but I had virtually nothing to complain about. Besides, I didn't want to lose the quirky friendship that we had. Banner was, probably, the least judgemental person I knew and I wasn't about to trade that for an awkwardly stolen kiss.

Monday and Tuesday passed in a flurry of giggling and snorting every time Flash walked by. His girlfriend broke up with him, very publicly, accusing him of cheating and he didn't even deny it - just insulted her and stormed off, leaving even his friends looking lost and clueless. I started dragging Peter and his two pet nerds along with me just about everywhere I went in case Thompson decided to do something stupid again. If judging only by the looks he was throwing our little company, he was on his way to figuring out who began nibbling at his reputation.

The week was coming to an end and the rumour began dying off, slowly. That just didn't sit with me, I wanted the fucker gone. Due to the obvious time constraints, I approached MJ regarding Peter - after a brief argument, we came to an agreement regarding Peter's safety should I need to leave him alone in the hallways or at lunch. 

I needed to do this alone so if I got caught, I won't drag them down with me. Granted, I would probably get something like a suspension and the school will attempt to call my mother (she never picks up) but that's about it. That's where her reputation comes in handy-people consciously avoid dealing with her, she can be that unbearable.

But first, I needed to get a teacher that's on my side. After carefully considering the candidates, I settled on my Social Studies professor - he taught the college-level classes and was overall a very chill, nice dude. And he disliked bullies with a flaming passion. So it didn't take me long to work him into a righteous fury - just a quick chat over a cup of tea in his homeroom and a few pictures of Peter's bruised face, complete with my own pleading puppy eyes. We agreed Mr Davies would "accidentally" leave the teacher's lounge unlocked during third period and I would sneak in. The plan wasn't foolproof but if it worked, not only Flash, but also his whole misogynistic, bigoted family would go down.

As I was leaving, Mr Davies looked up at me with a bright smile: "Give them Hell, alright?" And I suddenly noticed he was, in fact, very attractive. The smile brought out the fine wrinkles around his mouth, the crow's feet around his eyes - he smiled a lot. Silver strands mixed in with the wooden brown of his hair.

I let my eyes slide over him briefly before baring my teeth in return. "I owe you one," I don't know what possessed me to say that. My mouth really had a mind of its own sometimes. The room suddenly became hot.

"Sure," He replied, totally oblivious.

On Friday, I made myself a small nest in the empty classroom opposite the teacher's lounge and sat waiting for the signal from Mr Davies - he'd tap on the door once and I'd quietly go inside the teacher's lounge, retrieve Thompson's file and make my way back to the empty classroom to grab my backpack and carry the file to my locker for further examination. 

The first part went successfully and I managed to snag Thompson's file. It was heavy and hefty, all the evidence of his rowdiness compiled into one flimsy plastic folder. There were A LOT of pink slips and I rejoiced internally: at least there was a paper trail of his exploits. The principal didn't do anything about it which was... If not against the rules then at least frowned upon; the plan was to take copies and anonymously submit them to the school board prompting at least an investigation into the blatant disregard for Flash's immoral and illegal behaviour.

On my way back I stumbled upon the principal herself which got me not only a stern talking to, but a whole detention for skipping class. Whatever, I was too elated from potentially ruining the life of a dumb fuck who ruined my friend's face.

Surprise came in the face of Mr Davies, who, having heard the commotion in the hallway, stepped out of his class and saw me being lectured by the principal. 

"I'll take her for the detention," I heard the familiar voice behind me. The principal nodded solemnly and I had no choice but to sigh in resignation. "Three thirty, be here," He nodded to me, walking back, looking way too smug for his own good. So I wasn't the only one excited about the successful completion of stage two of my nefarious plan. Cue evil laughter.

[sourcherrybomb]

SoKai Week 2020 - Day 2 - For ____ Eyes Only

Synopsis: During the time period Kairi was within Sora’s heart, she kept a handy mental diary of all the places and people she encountered. Let’s take a peek at it, shall we?

Sneak Peek: I’ve been in Sora’s heart for a little bit as of now. It’s a nice kind of… warm, if that makes sense. Like a perfect sunny day on the Islands. Knowing what kind of person Sora is, it’s unsurprising.

Tags: Light Romance, Adventure, Comedy, All Ages, F/M

Prompt for the Day: First Meeting / Unseen Adventures

Words: 3.5k

Fanart By: @softpinkbee​

Entry 1: Welcome to Sora’s Heart. Population: 1 (I think)

Sooo… This is a thing that’s happening. All because of a stupid, literal world ending storm.

Oh wait, aren’t I supposed to start with “Dear Diary”? Not like I’m physically writing in a journal since I don’t have a body anymore… Ugh, Sora and Riku would probably poke fun at me if they found out that I kept one. Well sorry that I like to be sentimental and have a way of remembering and planning our future adventures, lazy bums.

I’m getting ahead of myself, aren’t I? I’ll do this once to get it over with.

Hello there (mental) diary, my name is Kairi! I’m 14 years old and I lived on the Destiny Islands before I somehow ended up in Sora’s (my BFF and lazy bum #1) heart. That little mishap took place right after I met this weird old guy in brown robes in our Secret Place. I don’t know where Riku (my other BFF and lazy bum #2) ended up, but somehow Sora got sucked into a black hole that sent him… Or is it us? To another world called Traverse Town.

I mean the boys and I always planned to travel to other worlds, just not like this. We were supposed to travel by raft, I was supposed to have a body, and it was going to be all three of us… Okay maybe I asked Sora if he wanted to go alone with me, only to end up chickening out at the last moment, but this current situation is not what I had in mind!

Apparently these monsters called the Heartless destroyed our world, sending us to Traverse Town. I feel bad. 

Sora was lost and alone. I knew because I felt it in his heart.

Luckily, Sora has met a lot of new people since arriving. There were these two girls, Aerith and Yuffie, that I would have loved to talk and meet with. Selphie definitely would have loved to meet Aerith, she was so pretty! Besides them, Sora also met this edgy guy named Leon (who kicked his butt) and a cranky old mechanic named Cid. More importantly, Sora met this talking duck and dog named Donald and Goofy. They’re pretty entertaining, so I hope they can keep Sora company since I can’t speak to him and we lost Riku.

I’ve been in Sora’s heart for a little bit as of now. It’s a nice kind of… warm, if that makes sense. Like a perfect sunny day on the Islands. Knowing what kind of person Sora is, it's unsurprising.

I just can’t shake off the feeling that there’s something… no, someone else in here.

Entry 2: Topsy? Turvy? Definitely Crazy.

Is it possible to have an out-of-body experience and a fever dream at the same time? Because that’s what Wonderland feels like.

Geez, where do I even start with this one? I guess with the talking rabbit entering the talking doorknob? Granted that rabbit was kind of cute, if not panicky. I could get used to that. Sora shrinking and entering a place full of playing card soldiers and a cat with a decapitated head (I think? He reattached it) are things that are going to take a bit to get used to.

Gosh, that feels like the understatement of the century.

I knew other worlds would be different than the islands. It’s just that going from a quiet city to a place where gravity is bonkers and playing cards can kill a person makes a girl really question what’s out there.

I wish I could take pictures so people would believe my words. Luckily this cricket named Jiminy has a journal where he keeps track of Sora’s journey. He stays safe inside Sora’s hood, so it’s sort of like we’re neighbors and journal buddies! I’d love to give him my point of view on things once I get my body back.

Oh one other thing before I forget, there was this one girl named Alice. I don’t know why, but she was giving off this really familiar aura. I couldn’t help but feel oddly drawn to her.

I feel like this won’t be the first time we come into contact with her.

Entry 3: Anyone else hear horns?

Like seriously, Sora and I both hear horns coming from this world, but neither of us have any idea as to where they’re coming from. This (extremely small) world is the Olympus Coliseum.

Sora, Donald, and Goofy got thrown into some challenges and ended up fighting waves of Heartless. Really makes me think about how I should have tried sword fighting with Sora and Riku. Sure, I’ve picked up some things by just watching them, but I think actually practicing with them would have helped me in the long run. I mean, I totally could have fought off that weird guy in the brown robes.

Ugh, just thinking about him gives me bad vibes. 

Going back to the challenges, Sora totally got his butt handed to him by this guy, Cloud. It was way worse than the loss Sora took against Leon, I don’t think Cloud was holding back. 

I’m thankful he didn’t finish Sora off. Partly because he’s my best friend, but also because if Sora bites the dust, then I’m also gone. It was rough seeing Sora lose again, but watching him take out a giant three-headed dog right after certainly was a sight. Although I swear I heard Hercules whisper to his little red friend, Phil, next to him that he weakened the monster. 

Maybe. But since it felt like I was fighting alongside him, I’m not ready to count Sora out just yet. He’s grown so much stronger day after day.

Entry 4: Note to Self, Never Let Sora Drive

You know, if the three of us did leave on that raft as planned, I always had a feeling that Sora might fight with Riku over where to take us. Sora’s never been one for his directional skills, that was always more Riku’s forte. Because of this, I always mentally prepared myself for the event where Sora would get us super lost.

WHAT I DIDN’T MENTALLY PREPARE MYSELF WAS FOR SORA TO CAUSE A GIANT SPACESHIP TO CRASH BECAUSE HE ARGUED WITH A TALKING DUCK!!!

That’s not even where it ends! This Deep Jungle is nuts! There’s a leopard that’ll attack you like every five steps, there was a giant Heartless that turned invisible, and Sora even got a gun fired at it! Granted that last one was because of some hunter jerk with a stupid mustache, but if he’s from this world, he’s part of the problem.

The only saving grace was the fact that there are giant tree trunks that act like slides and as many vines to swing on as I wanted to. Tarzan has got to give me some tips when I have the chance to meet him, it was like he was flying through the trees! I’d honestly enjoy the chance to talk to Jane myself as well. She seems so smart and would have so much to talk about. I think she’d make pleasant conversation. That being said, when she showed Sora a picture of a castle in the slideshow, I couldn’t shake this sense of… familiarity. Like I had seen it or something like it before. But where…?

Even though this world and I got off on the wrong foot, once I get my body back, I’m definitely making Sora bring me here so I can do all that!

Although I still have no idea how that’s gonna happen.

Entry 5: I don’t know why, but this place feels oddly familiar

Today may have just been one of the best days I’ve had since I’ve been living in Hotel Sora’s Heart, over here!

For starters, dogs. Sooooo many dogs! Leon told Sora about all of these Dalmatian puppies that got scattered across the various worlds. They’ve been taking the time to rescue all 101 of them, and they’re absolutely adorable! Ahhhhhh, I can only imagine playing with everyone one of them.

Secondly, I’m finding Traverse Town a lot more comforting than I originally did. Something about the tall building walls makes me feel nostalgic. I never was from the Islands to begin with, but where I originally came from is a mystery to me. I don’t think it was Traverse Town, but maybe it was another city. I’m sure that in travelling to other worlds, I might be able to remember more!

Today I even got to talk to Sora a little bit, albeit by accident, when he and his friends wandered into this old tower. I looked around and said to myself that it reminds me of the Secret Place, all dark and surrounded by stone. I never expected Sora to hear or see me! I had so much more to say, but when this wizard guy showed up, Sora couldn’t hear me anymore.

But that’s not even the best news: Right after, Sora ended up running into Riku! He’s safe! It was brief, Riku ended up disappearing moments after, but now we know he’s out there and can protect himself. Sora was even able to protect Riku from one of the Heartless!

Never thought I’d see that day where the roles were switched. It suits Sora.

Entry 6: I hate sand.

I may find not having a body to be a major inconvenience, but for once I’m quite pleased at the fact considering Agrabah, the world Sora and his friends just left, was full of sand.

At its worst, sand was rough, coarse, and irritating. It already got into my clothes back on the Islands, but around here I’d imagine it gets everywhere.

That being said, this world has got to be one of the most adventurous we’ve been to so far! Desert temples filled with treasure, magical genies, all in a faraway kingdom? It’s like all the games Sora, Riku, and I used to play when we were younger. If only Riku joined with Sora back in Traverse Town, he would have loved this!

One odd thing though, we ran into another woman, Princess Jasmine, who gave me the same vibes as Alice! Turns out she’s more than just a regular old princess, but one with special powers. I wonder what it could all mean...

Entry 7: Did you know that the stomach would eat itself without the mucus lining its walls? 

Back on the Islands when Sora, Riku, and I made plans to leave on the raft, we always wondered what kind of animals we’d see. The one that would always pop into our minds was a whale since they might be big enough to swallow us whole.

We always laughed it off and went back to working or playing, so actually getting swallowed whole by one feels very ironic. It’s a lot grosser than I thought it would be. Smells like fish everywhere you go, so I really hope Sora, Donald, and Goofy take some showers once they leave.

This whale named Monstro even swallowed this old man and his son, Gepetto and Pinnochio. The latter is somehow a walking, talking puppet!

But what’s even crazier is that out of all the worlds, Riku shows up here, only to kidnap Pinnochio! And not just that, I think he knows where my body is. Geez, Riku was being a real jerk about it, though. Said that Sora was fooling around and not helping, when I know for a fact that he’s doing more that Riku has! I mean, I’m in the guy’s heart, that’s gotta count for something!

I wish I could tell Riku that all this time, Sora has been protecting me. I know I give him a hard time every now and then, but out of all the people in the world, I’m really glad I ended up in his heart.

Entry 8: Rival Redhead Acquired

I know that my last entries make me seem like a jealous person, but mental diary, trust me when I say that I’m not usually one to be envious of others.

Until now.

Being in Sora’s heart, I sort of get a feel for his emotions. By all means, even without being inside him, Sora is pretty much an open book to begin with. It’s just that in being directly connected to his heart, I can feel almost every emotion he has. That includes the mess of emotions he felt when he came into contact with this mermaid named Ariel.

Yup, a mermaid. Atlantica is full of them.

It’s a pretty cool world! There are sunken pirate ships, an underwater kingdom, even a giant sea witch that Sora defeated! But nope, the thing that makes Sora’s heart flutter is another red head when he already has one right here! Ughhh, I’m really glad this diary isn’t physical, I might die if Sora or Riku ever found out I think stuff like this.

Still, Ariel isn’t a bad person so it’s not that I dislike her. She also loves adventure and wants to see other worlds. Moving past my jealousy, I think I’d love to be friends with her some day. Ariel and I are similar, but I think I at least have something over her.

Sometimes when Sora talks about me, he gets this squeezing feeling in his heart. Now I’m not gonna let Sora or Riku tease me over my feelings, I’m sure gonna tease Sora about his once I get my body back.

Entry 9: A lot more tricks than treats!

Halloween has always been one of my favorite holidays. I enjoy going around to houses and getting candy, but I enjoy scaring Sora even more so. I mean, I definitely did that outside of Halloween, it’s just that the holiday made it feel special.

Needless to say, Sora finding a world exclusively dedicated to it is probably one of the best things I’ve ever found out! When Sora, Donald, and Goofy arrived, they even got special outfits to blend in! With Sora being a vampire, I could see Riku being a werewolf, but when it comes to me, I can’t choose between being a witch or a scarecrow.

There are even monsters! There was a talking skeleton who was surprisingly nice, a mad doctor, and a giant living sack of bugs! (It was super gross when he was defeated.) Sora got a bit squirmy when he died, so I really wish I was there to double down and make Sora sora yell out loud!

I definitely want to go to Halloween Town when all of this is said and done.

Entry 10: I miss candy…

So Halloween Town was fun for the thrills and chills, but felt severely lacking in candy. I may be a disembodied heart without a body, but my heart aches for something sweet! Which is why the 100 Acre Wood was torture for me.

Pooh Bear and I would get along. He loves honey, I love candy, it’s like we’re two peas in a pod. I too would probably get myself stuck inside a tree if I was desperate enough for a sweet snack. 

Pooh’s other animal friends are all so cuddly and adorable! Out of the cutest, I’d have trouble choosing between Piglet or Roo. Tigger reminds me of the stuffed animals I keep in my room. Part of me really wants to hold onto him and see if he can bounce around with me on it, like a pogo stick! When it comes to Eeyore, in all honesty I kind of just want to give him a hug...

Honestly this place is a nice change of pace. No Heartless to be found, it’s always a clear and sunny day out. When it’s night time there aren’t any clouds so you can see all the stars in the sky. I remember all the stories that Sora used to tell me about the constellations instead of learning how to find his way with them. That was more Riku’s job.

I’m glad to know that what I’m feeling when I look up at the sky, Sora is feeling the same. Take your time and relax, you’ve earned it.

Entry 11: It’s a bird! It’s a plane! No, it’s Sora, Donald, and Goofy!

Forget swinging through trees, forget playing with countless puppies, and forget scaring Sora, when I get my body back, I’m making Sora take me to Neverland so I can fly up high in the skies!

Wait no Kairi, focus, there are more pressing things at matter. Mainly, Riku has become a full on jerk, has sided with the Heartless, and is dragging my lifeless body around with him! I mean, my eyes were open, but my body was basically a ragdoll without me in it. I mean on the brightside, Sora was absolutely brimming with joy when he realized my body was safe.

That may or may not have made me feel an indescribable amount of joy and embarrassment, mind you.

I mentioned having an out of body experience in Wonderland, but having a literal one felt even weirder. When Sora got close enough it was possible for me to twitch my hand a little, sort of like I was reconnecting with my body. Sucks that it ended up being dragged away, I was this close to getting it back. What sucks even more is that Riku ended up fleeing to this Hollow Bastion place with it.

Still it wasn’t all bad. Body or not, I was still able to fly around with Sora. He doubted that I’d believe him if he told me.

I don’t think he’d believe me if I told him what I’ve been up to in his heart.

Entry 12: Riku…

I’m back in my body. I wish it was as simple as Sora making contact with it, but things took a turn for the worse this time around.

I need to start from the beginning.

Right before we reached Hollow Bastion, Sora was able to connect with me. He awoke a memory of mine that I’d long forgotten since I came to the island: my favorite story that my grandmother would always tell me. Remembering it gave me this warm feeling, one that intensified when we arrived at Hollow Bastion. 

Only to have that feeling crushed when Riku took the Keyblade from Sora.

I’m glad Sora was able to get it back and knock some sense into Riku, but for a moment Sora really felt at his lowest. Sora was able to become his old self again, but deep in his heart was so much hurt at the fact that he lost Riku to the darkness. Not just any darkness, but from this man named Ansem. He was the one who revealed I was inside Sora’s  heart. Sora was able to beat the possessed Riku, but in the end he made a sacrifice I don’t think I could ever pay him back for.

Losing Sora in my arms made me feel even more useless than I did while I was inside his heart. Interestingly enough, when my heart left Sora’s body, I felt another leave as well. It wasn’t like Sora’s heart, but certainly had similar vibes to it.

Regardless, somehow I was able to bring him back from being a Heartless, but the feeling of losing him in my arms like that is something I don’t want to experience again.

We ended up leaving Hollow Bastion shortly after that. When Sora and I were alone, I was finally able to tell Sora that I was with him the entire time. I had so much I wanted to tell him, but there wasn’t enough time in the world. Not to mention all the unfinished business we had back at Hollow Bastion. I wanted to come with Sora, but he was right. It is dangerous, and as much as I didn’t want to admit it, I didn’t really have any ways to protect myself...

I gave Sora my lucky charm. Wherever he goes, I’ll be there with him.

At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.

Entry 13: For Our Eyes Only

Hi there diary, this might be the last time I update this formerly mental journal. 

Sora’s gone off on another adventure to save Riku. He saved all of the worlds, but wasn’t able to save his best friend. If I was in Sora’s shoes, which I might as well have been, I would have done the same thing for either of them. As for me, I’m back on the islands safe and sound. Part of me wanted to jump across the darkness and into Sora’s arms once more. But after fighting for so long to keep me safe, I think the best I can do for Sora is to let this one wish come true.

I know he’ll come back for me. After all, he still needs to give me back my lucky charm. And when he does, I’ll make sure to give him this handwritten diary to help him understand just exactly what I went through on this adventure. No…

Our adventure.

---

When I started this fic, I was honestly thinking about dropping it and starting from scratch with a new idea. Quite frankly, I’m glad I decided to keep at it. I’m pretty proud of the result and feel that I’ve made a somewhat creative little oneshot!

Once again, thank you to the Sokai: Destined Oath Discord server for introducing me to SoKai Week 2020! Special thanks to the server member Gee for acting as my Beta Reader.

Thanks for Reading!

[cinebration]

The Hyena (Ulysses Klaue x Reader) [Part 1]

Premise: You bring the notorious Ulysses Klaue a proposition on behalf of the CIA—and your own ambitions.

This fic takes place between Age of Ultron and Black Panther. Let me know if y’all want to be tagged and if y’all want more!

Part 1 | Part 2

Tagged: @illbegoinhome​​

Warnings: language

Gif Source: schreiberpablo

You were quiet. You hadn’t learned that in training, although it reinforced it. You simply understood at a young age that sitting still and remaining silent made you invisible to all but the most attentive. It afforded you one advantage other recruits from your graduating class years ago would have killed for: intel.

When people forgot you were there, they spoke freely.

You were all ears.

In the shithole bar, you sat in a corner, pretending to nurse a piss-poor beer. The bar, exclusively populated by scum, rumbled with the combined conversations of its patrons. The cacophony of deep-belly laughs and fuck-punctuated sentences assaulted your ears. You wanted to run from the place, disgusted by the sticky tables and mucky floors and the fucking heat. It was too fucking humid in the place. Your clothes stuck to you, the non-frizzed parts of your hair plastered to your skull and neck.

Two days hanging around in this dive. You were past the end of your patience.

“The crazy fucker is losing his shit,” one of the South Africans at the bar groused. “He’s tearing through everything to get more vibranium.”

You shifted your attention, fixing it on the speaker. Rail-thin, he sucked down a beer without coming up for air. A Glock stuck out from the holster on his hip.

“He should get it where he fucking found it,” his companion muttered.  “Maybe he’ll die in the process.”

You waved down the bartender, who all but scurried to your table, eager to please the only female patron of his bar in…forever. “Refill that man’s drink,” you said, handing him enough cash with a generous tip added. “On me.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Leaning back in your seat, you waited. The bartender plunked down a sweaty glass of beer I front of him, gesture in your direction.

The man glanced over. Suspicion lined his face. Rising, he strode over to you but remained standing.

You pulled a small wad of cash out of your pocket, just enough for him to see. “I’m looking for your boss.”

“I’m my own boss,” he snapped.

You made a show of looking him over. Shaking your head, you looked away. “Nevermind. I thought you were someone important.”

He glanced for the money you had secreted back into your pocket. “You gonna pay me?”

“That money’s for someone who can connect me to Klaue, but you said you don’t work for him, so no dice.”

“I can get you in touch.”

“I want a meet. Here.” You stared him directly in the eyes.

“Pay me and I will.”

Sighing heavily, you shook your head. “After you deliver.”

The man swore, shaking with anger, and stormed from the bar. The attention you had attracted by the interaction held for a moment. You let your gaze fall back to the table, remaining as unaffected as possible by the hard, suspicious gazes of twenty men burning your skin.

You waited an hour. The moment your watch showed sixty minutes had passed, you decided the man wasn’t going to show. You stood to leave.

Loud music pulsed outside the bar, drawing near. It cut out suddenly as a car engine died.

You sat back down, carefully reassuming your bored disinterest.

Ulysses Klaue barreled through the door, followed by two of his men and the skinny one you had talked to. You pulled out the cash immediately and tossed it in the man’s direction. Snatching it up greedily, he hastened from the room.

Klaue fixed his blue-gray eyes on you. The intensity of his gaze swept away your reason for the space between seconds. He was a force of nature, filling up the room despite only being 5’8”.

He barked a laugh. “When Lewis said it was a woman, I thought he was lying.”

To your surprise, his eyes didn’t rake down your body, instead fixed on your face. Beneath the boisterous, unstable exterior, he was lucidly astute. Your research had stated that, but looking into his eyes confirmed it.

“Are you the man in charge?” he asked, humor in his voice.

“Very much so,” you answered dryly. “But I do work for an organization.”

“What’s that?”

“The CIA.”

The whole bar went silent. Klaue licked his lips, eyebrows arching.

The operation was yours, though Agent Everett Ross had taken a vested interest. When you had told him you were going to lay out all your cards on the table at first contact, he had clocked you as nuts.

“Pretty bold claim coming from such a little lady,” Klaue growled. “You have to be telling the truth to say that here.”

You gestured at the chair across from you. Klaue glanced at it but didn’t sit.

“I know you’re a talker,” you said, feeling the silence stretch too long.

“I don’t deal with the CIA directly.”

“Adaptation is part of survival, Mr. Klaue.”

“Mister?” He chuckled. “How about this? You tell me something I don’t know, and I’ll hear you out.”

You paused. The arms dealer had several connections across just as many intelligence bureaus. You weren’t that high-ranking of an agent. Using him was your ticket to a promotion, but you weren’t going to tell him that.

Looking at his mischievous expression, you gambled. “Female hyenas have pseudo penises.”

Silence.

Klaue burst into wheezing laughter. Breathing an internal sigh of relief, you waited. Tears blurred his eyes by the time he regained his composure.

You kicked out the chair across from you. Klaue’s lips peeled back from his teeth in a feral smile, eyes glimmering. Spinning it around, he settled into the chair, his forearm propped along the back of it. Your eyes dropped for a moment to the scorpion tattoo riding the muscles of his arm.

“Chat me up, then,” he said.

Schooling yourself to keep from betraying your nervous excitement. “I want to make a deal.”

“Better make it worth my while.”

“How would you like to be bigger than Victor Bout?”

The name arrested his attention. His smile widened, gold teeth flashing, but the humor was missing. “The Merchant of Death?”

“I can position you as the most notorious illegal arms dealer in the world.”

Klaue leaned forward, scrutinizing your face. You maintained eye contact, forced yourself to. The man’s gaze burned through you.

“In exchange,” you continued carefully, “you will provide information about, and sometimes actions against, Walter Dietrich.”

His smile fell, his face suddenly stony. Leaping from his chair, he shouted, “Everybody out!”

The men in the bar immediately vacated, chugging down their drinks as they left. Klaue’s two men stayed behind.

“I said out!”

They scurried away.

Turning back to you, Klaue stared down at you, his hand twitching near the Beretta strapped to his powerful thigh. “Are you asking to get yourself killed?”

Walter Dietrich was the most powerful man in the arms dealing game since Tony Stark had turned his attention to other ventures. Practically untouchable, the Austrian frequented high-class circles, glad-handing politicians and the elite alike. Going after him was career suicide—followed by real death.

Which is why you hadn’t told Ross that bit of the plan.

“Dietrich is a piece on the board that needs to be removed,” you explained, your voice level. “Once I remove him, our partnership would cease. You’ll be free to take his position.”

“You’re absolutely fucking mad,” he growled.

You shrugged.

Barking out a laugh, he dragged the chair over to your side, plopped down so his face was mere inches from yours. Hot breath rolled over your sweaty face.

“Why should I do this?” His voice practically rumbled in your chest this close. “I have more money than I know what to do with.”

“Yeah, but you don’t want to retire. Besides,” you said, taking another gamble, “Dietrich could never touch you because of the vibranium. Now that that’s gone…”

His gaze sharpened, the muscle in his square jaw twitching hard enough to be visible beneath his beard. Fear spiked through you.

“Tell me more about hyenas.”

The man could give you whiplash with the bouncing nature of his thoughts. You grasped for trivia. “The only other thing I know is that the female hyenas are dominant over the males.”

“Really?”

“Seems to me they’re the ones with the real balls,” you muttered. His eyes bored into yours, amusement and something dangerous swirling in them.

You stood, his proximity and palpable body heat suddenly too much. “You have twelve hours to give me your decision. I take off after that.”

You strode around him, his gaze following you to the door.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

Pausing, you turned and flashed a razor-sharp smile. “You can call me…Agent Hyena.”

You could feel his feral grin through the door.

[just-another-busy-fangirl-writes]

April 5, 2019

Feel free to tag me in ANY fics you post, and see previous weeks’ fic recs HERE

SMUT

Cupid Can Shove His Arrow Right Up His... by @bamby0304    Valentine’s day sucks when you’ve got no one to send you flowers or serenade you with sweet song. You’re in a mood, stomping around the overcrowded bunker, not caring if you kill the buzz of the couples around you. Luckily for them, however, Sam is quick to distract you.

The Fun Side of Grave Desecration by @crispychrissy    Digging up bones is no fun. Until you and Dean have some time to kill.

The Professional by @kittenofdoomage    You’re a trained assassin who pursued hunting after you left the military. On a hunt, you encounter the Winchesters and that’s when things get interesting…

10 Minutes by @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid    You and Jared have 10 minutes until Sam and Ruby have to be back on set.

FLUFF

Worth a Shot by @babypieandwhiskey    Reader gets injured during a hunt, Dean fixes her up, feelings get involved. (pre-smut)

Thunder Thighs by @cherry3point14    You’re visiting your friend Jody when two flannel-clad brutes come storming in the door, both bleeding and needing help. You help the shorter one with stitches to his thigh. When Jody and Sam walk in to check on you guys, they were not expecting to find you like that! (on the verge of smut, but not there yet)

Inked Up by @evansrogerskitten    Dean most definitely, not at all, really doesn’t, have a crush.

Hey, New Guy by @fictionalabyss    Dean got a summer job as a lifeguard.  It doesn’t go as planned.

An Unexpected Epiphany by @hannahindie    Sam and Dean spend some time with the Jody and Donna at Jody’s house.

SERIES

End of the World by @a-winchester-fairytale  In 2009, Dean, Sam, and you agree to go your separate ways in order to protect each other, and the fate of the planet.  Now it is 2014 and the world has changed forever thanks to the Croatoan virus infecting most of the population.  Those left behind are forced to fight for survival, desperate to hold onto the hope that all is not lost.

Love is a Broken Balloon in the Park by lily rose (on AO3)  Watching Dean get fucked is a full-time obsession for Sam.

Curiosity by MsImpala67 (on AO3)    Jensen runs the brewery that supplies Jared's bar. That's as far as their relationship goes, since Jared's oblivious to Jensen's perfection and Jensen is straight. But when Jensen confides in Jared that he may not actually be straight, Jared eagerly volunteers to help him figure it out. Everything about their arrangement is great- great sex, no responsibilities, no worries. But how long can that last? And how long can they enjoy sleeping together before someone develops feelings?

When The Lights Go Out by @purpleskiesandcherrypies    She met Dean before all of this started. Before they had to fight for their lives or end up dead. Before Sam said yes to Lucifer.

One Small Step by @sandymg (on AO3)   Jared has had a secret crush for months. But it’s not like publishing genius and gay activist Jensen Ackles is going to notice the tall, weird guy pushing the mail cart. So when Jared’s best friend and Jensen’s assistant, Sandy, tells him that Jensen is getting married in one month to a fellow activist – something about being the first gay couple to get married in the state – Jared knows some things just aren’t meant to be. And now Sandy is insisting that Jared help her plan the wedding. She thinks it’s a good idea. Jared thinks she’s nuts. Because the only thing this could lead to is heartbreak. Right?

[thecloserkin]

book review: Mira Grant, Feed (2010)

Genre: Sci-Fi

Is it the main pairing: Yes

Is it canon: No

Is it explicit: No

Is it endgame: Yes

Is it shippable: Hell to the yes

Bottom line: Creepily Codependent Siblings Survive the Zombie Apocalypse! They are adopted but the way they refer to each other as “my brother” and “my sister” when they could have used given names instead? I am here for it. While tight plotting is not one of this book’s strengths, you should slog through the infodumps to the ending which packs one hydrogen bomb of an emotional wallop.

This is the first book in the “Newsflash” trilogy about a pair of journalists, Georgia and Shaun Mason, who begin by blogging out of their parents’ basement and end by uncovering a vast governmental conspiracy subtended by various alphabet-soup agencies. The zombie apocalypse itself happened 23 years ago, and it happened the way these things invariably happen: Scientists try to cure cancer/the common cold, unleash freak virus on humanity, cue end of the world as we know it. Georgia and Shaun are the paradigmic products of this remade world: They, like many children born in and around the chaos of the outbreak, were orphans. On their adoption papers their birthdays are given as the same day—an arbitrary made-up date, but it makes them twins even if George is def a few months older. She acts older too, acting as the business brains of their fledgling journalistic operation while Shaun’s job is to “poke dead things with sticks” and look good while doing it. There is a performative aspect to Shaun’s mugging for the camera and flirting with anything in a skirt. He’s doing it because outrageous behavior garners them more hits, obviously, but he’s also doing it for George who gets a kick out of watching him charm the pants off people. She is bemused but not remotely threatened. George is all-business all the time, emotionally guarded and wary of physical contact, and one time when someone tried to hug her Shaun smoothly stepped up to intercept the hug to spare her the discomfort of enduring it. I SCREAMED. Note that George doesn’t mind being touched if it’s Shaun doing it:

I shuddered. Shaun caught the gesture and put a hand at the small of my back, steadying me. I flashed him a smile.

Shaun put a hand on my knee, steadying me, and I covered it with my own.

These small moments of tenderness punctuate an endearingly banterful sibling rapport. This is them reacting to the news of their big break—they’ve been tapped to cover the presidential campaign of an idealistic Wyoming senator:

Shaun was sure we’d get it. I was sure we wouldn’t. Now, staring at the monitor, Shaun said, “George?” “Yeah?” “You owe me twenty bucks.”

This is George shooing Shaun out of her room so she can change her clothes:

I pointed to the door. “Get out. There’s about to be nudity, and you’ll just complicate things.” “Finally, adult content! Should I turn the webcams on?”

This is big sister Georgia mocking Shaun for his youthful indiscretions:

”Remember how pissed you got when we had to do all that reading about the Rising back in sixth grade? I thought you were going to get us both expelled.”

In conclusion I love them sfm they are perfect.

As an aside, the people tagging this book “horror” on Goodreads have either not read the book (which is legit, TBR piles are a thing) or don’t understand what horror is? It’s like they saw the word “zombies” and just auto-completed the genre. What defines horror is not blood, gore, or violence but the fear and loss of agency engendered by that violence. That’s why so many horror film protagonists are women, who experience loss of agency in large and small ways on a daily basis and must learn to survive in the face of it; it’s cathartic to watch them take back control. The point of this digression is that THIS IS NOT A HORROR NOVEL. It’s not about that kind of fear!!! This is a political thriller so buckle in kids we’re going for a ride.

Twenty-three years ago during the outbreak, Georgia and Shaun’s parents lost their eight-year-old biological son. He was bitten by the neighbors’ dog. This was before it was widely understood that the virus could jump between mammalian species, and that anything surpassing the 40 pound threshold was susceptible to its effects. The dog weighed over 40 pounds. The Masons, who were award-winning reporters in their own right, dealt with their grief by channeling their emotional resources into chasing the news ratings. They continued to be phenomenally successful journalists as well as shitty parents to Shaun and Georgia, whom they seem to have adopted entirely for publicity purposes. The narrative invites us to draw the comparison between George and Shaun, who have chosen to pursue this career out of a thirst for THE TRUTH, and their parents who have less lofty motivations. Not to put too fine a point on it but their parents are mercenary motherfuckers. These kids survived their childhood by building an emotional bunker that they never learned to climb out of. This line from the very first chapter is so telling because they’re out in the field and Shaun is being chased by a zombie right?:

I screamed, images of my inevitable future as an only child filling my mind.

When Shaun’s in mortal peril, Georgia doesn’t think of him as “the center of my universe”— which he is—she thinks of the void that would result in the loss of her brother. That’s how they fit together, that’s what they are to each other, and all the other stuff is layered on top of the shared trauma of their childhood. Ffs they even have a ritual for administering each other’s blood tests—you know that thing at wedding toasts where the bride and groom loop their arms together and tip the champagne flute into the other’s mouth? Like that:

Moving with synchronicity born of long practice, we broke the biohazard seals and popped the plastic lids off our testing units

So the protocol for taking blood tests, which everyone has to do all day long to prove they’re not infected, is to come into the foyer/antechamber/vestibule one at a time and once you test clean you proceed into the building while the next person cycles into the chamber. That way, if anyone is found to be infected, they can be isolated. Georgia and Shaun have never once complied with this rule:

Our next-door-neighbor used to call Child Protective Services every six months because our folks wouldn’t stop us from coming in together. But what’s the point of life if you can’t take risks now and then, like coming into the damn house with your brother?

Implying that if one of them ever got bitten by a zombie the other one would rather spend the rest of their short life trapped in a garage with the shambling corpse of their sibling than die in their sleep at a ripe old age. Talk about ride or die.

I said before that this presidential campaign, this is their big break as much as it is the candidate’s. Up till now George and Shaun have been blogging under the umbrella of news aggregation entities (sort of like how BuzzFeed and HuffPost and Medium are populated by user-generated content that isn’t necessarily making the content creator an appreciable pile of money), but now they’ve finally landed the story that will let them strike out on their own. One of the sharpest things about this book is how it depicts journalism as a job, and a tough one to do right. Nashville does the same thing for the music industry, and as over-the-top as that show is, it shows you the nuts and bolts of success in a profession where practitioners are supposedly driven by “passion” alone. Here the distribution of labor is skewed pretty heavily towards George:

I get the administrative junk that Shaun’s too much of a jerk and Buffy’s too much of a flake to deal with.

Buffy is their business partner and some kind of auteur hacker + tech whiz. Shaun is the public face of their media brand. But make no mistake, George is the heart and soul and brains of this operation. You see her business acumen in drive-by observations like “Replacing that much equipment would kill our operating budget for months,” or when she talks about i n s u r a n c e. And George talks about insurance a lot. She mentions how a certain camera covered in zombie body fluids is an insurance write-off, how being present in designated high-risk zones during certain times of day can triple your insurance premium, how a certain treatment for her chronic vision condition isn’t covered by health insurance. I … just wanna point out that the human race has survived a flippin’ zombie apocalypse, but the United States remains wedded to private for-profit health insurance where who and what are “covered” remains a game of Russian roulette?!! Whoever said it was “easier to imagine the end of the world than the end of capitalism” was onto something. This society is functioning cohesively enough that elections are a thing (thus, nation-states are still a thing). If you want to tell me our fragmented, inefficient, fee-for service model of paying for medical care that routinely bankrupts & kills our citizens has weathered the end of civlization and emerged intact from its ashes, you better look me dead in the eye and bring receipts.

What’s really impressive about Georgia is she’ll rattle off exactly what kind of activities (those forbidden by her journalistic licensing) will invalidate her life insurance if she’s stupid enough to get killed while doing them. From which I surmise that she and Shaun are both covered by pretty hefty policies of which they are each other’s sole beneficiary. Which makes sense, they’re in a dangerous line of work, but I feel like it’s a poor investment since whoever was left behind would be doing their damnedest to climb into the grave next to their sibling lol.

Another little requirement of the household insurance—since we leave safe zones all the time in order to do our jobs, we have to be able to prove we’ve been properly sterilized, and that means logged computer verification of our sterilizations.

George is talking about the AI that is apparently located in her showerhead that douses her with a bleach & antiseptic compound when she comes back from being in the field?? That sounds painful but what concerns me is the breathtaking scope of the Internet of Things’ penetration into her life. The AI is in the bathroom. It knows exactly where she’s been bc ofc her GPS location can be tracked via her phone, and it’s merrily sending packets of information off to …. somewhere, where it will doubtless be aggregated with all the data collected about George from other sources, and combed for patterns to predict future behavior. That’s how surveillance capitalism works. if this sounds chillingly familiar it’s because it’s already happening, it’s what the tech giants are already doing—gobbling up as much data about as many people in as many contexts as possible—and leveraging that data for profit. Privacy is a joke. George is not unaware of this, but what choice does she have? It’s either install the damn AI in her showerhead or get her parents’ homeowners’ insurance policy cancelled for being too “high risk.”

I want to circle back to George’s chronic medical condition for a sec. She’s got a disability—what’s a called a “reservoir condition” where the virus takes up residence in a body organ, in her case the retina—meaning essentially that she has zombie vision; she can see ridiculously well in low light situations but direct sunlight will blind her. She has to wear shades even indoors and is literally incapable of crying since her tear ducts are inoperative. So there’s a testy situation where a federal agent tries to get her to take off her sunglasses so he can verify her identity with a retinal scan right? And because they’re standing outside this is obviously a recipe for permanent blindness, quite aside from the fact you wouldn’t be able to get a valid scan anyway due to the virus over-dilating George pupils. But instead of checking George’s files, where her disability & its effects are prominently listed, this grunt insists on making her remove her glasses because Procedure. It’s a pretty tense moment. Shaun goes ballistic. He doesn’t physically threaten the dude, or insult his mom or anything. No, Shaun understands that he needs to make this pencil-pusher more afraid of the consequences of taking George’s glasses than of Not Following Procedure. And it works. YEET.

On the campaign trail the Senator’s aides arrange for sex-segregated hotel rooms but Shaun and George are having none of it:

On the few occasions when I’ve tried sleeping without Shaun in the next room, well, let’s just say that I can go a long way on a six-pack of Coke.

The ostensible reason the sleeping arrangements need to be reshuffled is, Buffy can’t sleep without a nightlight and George’s eyes can’t tolerate a nightlight. Clearly the real reason is George and Shaun are c l i n g y and codependent as FUCK. One night after a zombie attack and the long grueling hours of cleanup/decontamination that followed it, they actually climb into the same bed—I guess this room only had a double instead of two singles?? The scene the next morning, the two of them having predictably overslept:

“Fuck a duck, Buffy, what are you trying to do, blind her?” … Shaun, clad only in his boxer shorts, staring at an unrepentant Buffy.

So Shaun’s beef with Buffy is not that she barged in on them while they were asleep & half-naked but that she opened the curtains, thereby triggering a painful migraine for George’s sensitive eyes. Buffy explains she didn’t shake them awake because they both sleep armed, lmao. George’s disability and Shaun’s practiced ability to help her maneuver around it (like a trusty prosthetic, he’s an extension of herself) serves to highlight how in this partnership they are one unit and they know each other inside out. This is them after their close shave with the dunce who tried to take George’s glasses:

“Fuck you, too,” I muttered as Shaun got his arm around me and hoisted me away from the barn. “You kiss our mother with that mouth?” “Our mother and you both, dickhead. Give me my sunglasses.”

And this is George waking up in their hotel room, eyes squeezed shut against the glare of multiple computer screens:

He touched my hand with the tips of his fingers before he pressed my sunglasses against my palm.

This is absurdly, spine-tinglingly intimate. First he touches her hand with the tip of his fingers, the most fleeting of touches to let her know it’s him, and then he presses the glasses into her palm to restore her agency so she can, you know, open her eyes. And that earlier scene with him guiding her by the elbow in broad daylight!!! I’M NOT CRYING YOU’RE CRYING

Sometimes I can hardly believe that George and Shaun are twenty-three years old. When I was twenty-three I … was not adulting half so well as these kids. But then, giving their barbarous upbringing, that’s not surprising; my parents loved and nurtured me. When I look at George and Shaun and the successful business they’ve built and the professional relationships they’ve cultivated and their expertise and their bravery I just feel this proud parental glow you know?

I want to say a word about Senator Ryman before we move onto spoiler territory. There’s a big controversy initially about whether the Senator is “genuine” or not (spoiler alert: he is). But what does that even mean, genuine? He’s a good egg, sure, but what are his policies, none of which are explored in depth except his support for horse farms??? I’m not kidding. In a world where any animal weighing over 40 pounds is a zombie outbreak waiting to happen, it’s a controversial position to say people should be able to keep pets in residential zones. Here is how George describes our Candidate:

He’s like a big, friendly Boy Scout who just woke up one day and decided to become the President of the United States of America.

I see two major problems with this: One, they say “Personnel is Policy” so who the hell is he planning to appoint to key Cabinet positions and can he trust them to pursue rather than undermine his objectives (and does he even have a deep enough bench of people to draw on)? Two, the Boy Scouts of America are not exactly, er, unproblematic, and while it’s safe to say our faves are always problematic, I think “Boy Scout” is shorthand here for “no skeletons in his closet,” which again puts the focus squarely on his personal qualities rather than what policies he espouses. It’s great that he hasn’t cheated on his wife or his taxes. But morality and ethics are not the same thing:

Morals are how you treat people you know. Ethics are how you treat people you don’t know. Your morality is what makes you a good spouse/friend … Your ethics are what makes you a good politician … Morality dictates that you take care of your family, friends and even acquaintances first … For a large society—a society where you can’t know everyone—to work, ethics must come before morality, or ethics and morality must have a great deal of overlap. By acting morally, you must be able to act ethically.

I think we can all agree that this does not describe how our society is currently constituted, and it doesn’t describe George and Shaun’s America either. So this narrow fixation on whether individual candidates are “genuine” or corrupt imo kinda misses the point. George says:

I haven’t even been able to find proof that his campaign received funding from the tobacco companies, and everyone’s campaign receives funding from the tobacco companies.

I don’t want to undersell how important it is the guy is not taking tobacco money. But is he also eschewing Wall Street money, Big Pharma money, defense contractor money? How could George possibly have time to investigate all this dark money if she is supposed to be covering the actual campaign? Seems like it would be a lot easier to reform the campaign finance laws than to vet every single single candidate’s funding sources.

I think one reason the Senator is long on identity & personal charisma and short on policy is that he’s up against an opponent whose base of support is millenarian-fundamentalist “the Rapture is here, we’re all going to hell”:

it was either Ryman’s brand of “we should all get along while we’re here,” or Tate’s hellfire and damnation.

If that is the main faultline in society, I guess half the voters don’t really wanna hear how a given politician is planning to make a material difference in their lives, since they’ve already got eyes on the prize aka the next life.

So there you have it. George and Shaun are scrappy independent muckrakers digging for the truth. Time and again their allegiance to that holy grail overrides their concern for trivial aims like idk personal safety. There’s a vast, shady conspiracy afoot, and as our heroes get closer to it they start getting shot at. They lose comrades. None of this deters them because they are after THE TRUTH. Oh wait there is in fact one thing George values more than the truth:

”You’re more interested in your brother than figuring out the truth?” “Shaun’s the only thing that concerns me more than the truth does.”

And later:

The sight of him was enough to make my heart beat faster and my throat get tight. I knew he was wearing Kevlar underneath his clothes, but Kevlar wouldn’t protect him from a headshot.

Her first concern is always, always, for him.

SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS

George gets infected. That’s the denouement. George is infected and Shaun has to shoot her before she turns all the way. Every single person who makes it to this scene is just bawling by the end of it:

His lips brushed the top of my head as he bent forward and pressed them to my hair. I wanted to yell at him to get away from me, but I didn’t. The barrel of the gun remained a cool, constant pressure on the back of my neck. When I turned, when I stopped being me, he would end it. He loved me enough to end it. Has any girl ever been luckier than I am?

The reassuring pressure of the gun on the base of her neck??? Has there been a more romantic moment in cinematic history??? I THINK NOT. Shaun is a crack shot—he’s the kind of guy who caresses his guns, names them after pretty women, causes his sister to grouse about digging through a suitcaseful of his weaponry to find her clothes—and yet here he is using his gun to kill the woman he loves most in the world.

It was supposed to be Shaun. They both took it as a given that Shaun would be the one to die first. Now he has to find a reason to continue living other than the obvious (vengeance). Stay tuned for the next installment, narrated by Shaun!

[forestwater87]

Underrated Characters Appreciation Weeks I’m too lazy to set up....

...but I’m proud of myself for having created. So if y’all wanna adopt any of these, you can go wild (please tag me though! I wanna see them!). Otherwise, shower me with praise.

(They’re very writing-heavy and often just a list of questions, so if you borrow anything feel free to tweak as suits your inspiration; the questions/suggestions are really just to get people thinking!)

I’m gonna put them below the cut so it doesn’t get too long, but you have to look forward to:

Jasper Appreciation Week

Cameron Campbell Appreciation Week

Gwen Appreciation Week

Bonquisha Appreciation Week

Dirty Kevin Appreciation Week

QM Appreciation Week

Other Secondary Characters Appreciation Week

Elevated Extras Appreciation Week

Nerris Appreciation Week

Space Kid Appreciation Week

Ered Appreciation Week

Harrison Appreciation Week

Dolph Appreciation Week

Nikki Appreciation Week

Preston Appreciation Week

Nurf Appreciation Week

Flower Scouts Appreciation Week

Woodscouts Appreciation Week

Jasper Appreciation Week

Who doesn’t love this good good ghost boy?

Day 1: 90s Kid -- Depict Jasper doing something radical.

Day 2: Jasper’s Camp -- Show off Jasper’s time as Camp Campbell’s golden boy.

Day 3: David -- It’s the only character he has a real canon relationship with . . .

Day 4: Life After Death -- What does he do with himself on that there island all day?

Day 5: All Grown Up -- We’ve all thought about it.

Day 6: Best Friend to Campers -- Pick a non-David character and develop his relationship with them.

Day 7: Spookily Ever After -- How does Jasper’s story end? On Spooky Island forever? Leaving this realm? Becoming the camp’s new mascot? Or was he somehow alive the whole time? Let your imagination go wild!

Cameron Campbell Appreciation Week

He’s sleazy. He’s morally bankrupt. He’s everyone’s favorite non-blonde-twink villain!

Day 1: Shady Business Dealings -- What’s Campbell up to when he’s not at camp? What does he want with Camp Campbell? Was that Nazi gold in his vault? Something’s fishy here, and I’m curious what everyone thinks is going on.

Day 2: Mysterious Past -- How on earth does someone like Campbell happen, anyway? This could be stuff about his childhood, how he got into . . . whatever illegal nonsense he’s up to, how he met QM, even how he got away with not getting in trouble for what happened to Jasper.

Day 3: Spooky Island -- Seriously, what on earth was going on in that house? Focus on the coolest/creepiest thing in there and go nuts.

Day 4: Fears & Other Random Headcanons -- Basically your Free Space day.

Day 5: Boss Man -- Focusing specifically on his relationships with the counselors.

Day 6: (Relation)Ships -- Yeah, yeah, gotta have it somewhere. This one is pretty open to interpretation, and should be considered platonic or not. Just depict the most interesting/fun relationship you think Campbell has. Is that cold black heart even capable of affection, anyway? (If you think he’s a foxy grandpa, go wild today.)

Day 7: What Happens Next? -- Is he gonna ever leave that cave? Team up with Daniel? Gone for good? What’s up ahead for the most notorious criminal who’s ever run a summer camp?

Gwen Appreciation Week

I mean, come on. You knew I was gonna do it.

Day 1: Background -- There are a lot of interesting headcanons about Gwen’s backstory, cultural heritage, etc. City girl or country bumpkin, Latina or African-American or rich or poor or college dropout or whatever, pick what you think is the most interesting headcanon for Gwen (something that’s related to her time before the show, that is) and go nuts.

Day 2: Favorite Camper -- Pick one of the kiddos and have them bond with their grumpiest caregiver.

Day 3: All Dolled Up -- She’s always in that counselor uniform. What does she look like outside of camp?

Day 4: Ships -- Obviously.

Day 5: That Tragic Plot Twist -- If you have an idea what makes Gwen such a grumpy disaster of panic and unemployment -- or just want to have fun making things unnecessarily dark for such a lighthearted cartoon which I know you do; I’ve read the fanfiction -- it’s time to unleash the angst.

Day 6: Anywhere Else -- AUs! AUs in all directions! Gwen doesn’t want to be at camp, so let’s plop her into another world where she might be happier . . . or might not be.

Day 7: A Campbell Camper? Whether you think Gwen was one of the kids who grew up at Camp Campbell or not, I think we’d all agree it’d be fun to imagine.

Bonquisha Appreciation Week

Because she deserves it and will probably kill you if you don’t appreciate her enough. 

Day 1: Those Wild Shirts -- Draw her in another fantastic outfit, or speculate where her amazing fashion sense (and vanity plates) came from. She has a filthy mouth and a whole lotta confidence, and the first day of this week is to celebrate that!

Day 2: Home Sweet Trailer -- Put her in her house on 69 Dirt Rd. and think about what kinds of things a girl like Bon would call home.

Day 3: Dog -- She has one. Tell us about it!

Day 4: Work/Hometown HCs -- What does someone even do in a town that small? Whether you think she’s a waitress alongside that cute pink-haired gal, or if she lives out of town and drove up to see David, ponder a little bit of what Bonquisha does in or around Sleepy Peak and show it to us.

Day 5: Bonvid -- How did that relationship with David crash and burn so hard, anyway? And what does it look like after that episode?

Day 6: Other Relationships -- Bonquisha vs. Tabii, or Gwenquisha, or bffs with Dirty Kevin, or any sort of connection you’d like to expand upon or forge between Bon-Bon and another character in the show. Hell, draw her and Jacob if you think that’s cute; it’s canon, after all.

Day 7: Muscles to Die For -- She’s big and beautiful and could absolutely murder everyone. Let’s just spend out last day appreciating how very much of a badass Bonquisha is.

Dirty Kevin Appreciation Week

The very goodest alternative Den Mother there ever was.

Day 1: Probably a Real Brat -- What was he like as a kid or teenager?

Day 2: Drugs & More Drugs -- Show us Kevin hard at work or tell us how he got into this crazy business.

Day 3: That Red Hoodie -- It’s kind of his trademark, and this is a day to appreciate it.

Day 4: From Sleepy Peak to Mexico -- Take your favorite part from Kevin’s debut appearance and do something fun with it.

Day 5: Den Mommy -- We’ve all thought about Dirty Kevin as a Flower Scout mother, and if you haven’t, you’re lying.

Day 6: Cleaned Up -- Get him a nice facial grooming and some good clothes, and you could have a handsome gentleman right there. What on earth would that look like? 

Day 7:  Not Such a Lone Wolf -- Whether you have an OTP or just love the idea of Kevin being friends with certain characters, show us who you think he has a soft spot for.

QM Appreciation Week

Listen, we’re all a little afraid of him, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve the spotlight for a bit. Even if we know he’ll probably do unspeakable things in and to that spotlight.

Day 1: God or Just Crazy? Whether it’s his apparent inability to age or how he can magically find little woodland paradises in the middle of the camp, there’s a lot of weird going on there. Celebrate the man who may or may not be a murderer and may or may not actually be a literal deity and all his strange, often supernatural weirdness.

Day 2: Hook -- Hey, how’d he lose that hand?

Day 3: Man vs. Squirrels -- He has a blood feud with many woodland creatures.

Day 4: QM Store -- There’s a lot of wacky stuff in there. What did you like best, or what do you think was hidden in the corners that we didn’t get to see?

Day 5: Bonding -- QM’s been there for a long (long long long) time, and he’s clearly known Campbell and David at least for years. Pick a character and explore what their relationship with the Quartermaster might be like.

Day 6: Tontine -- So what on earth was going on there?

Day 7: Camp Specter -- Regardless of how you approached Day 1, the fact remains that for whatever reason, the Quartermaster is at Camp Campbell for good. You can speculate why he’s there or just show us him hard at work doing . . . whatever he does, but today I just wanna see our beloved QM lurking around the camp!

Other Secondary Characters Appreciation Week

To all those characters who hang out in the background, making the campers’ shenanigans more fun.

Day 1: Daniel -- I don’t consider him in any way under-appreciated, but he’s a pretty spectacular way to kick off Season 2, and also this week.

Day 2: Platypus -- Mother of six five four three two one lunch and terror of the camp.

Day 3: Cute Waitress -- Y’all sure do love her. Show your love!

Day 4: Jermy Fartz -- Oh yeah. I went there.

Day 5: Darla & Gregg -- How can anyone who isn’t David be that excited about camping? Were they totally secretly dating? Where are they now, and how did they get there?

Day 6: The Denizens of Sleepy Peak -- Whether your heart belongs to Lester, Fred, the old geezers, or any of the others populating the nearby town, it’s time to show them some love.

Day 7: Parents -- How else would we end this week but with some family bonding?

Elevated Extras Appreciation Week

They’re not as memorable as the secondary characters. They don’t even have lines. But they’re ours and we love them.

Day 1: Former Campbell Campers -- we see in the picture on David’s bulletin board that there were a lot of kids who used to come to the camp. Show or tell us about your favorite!

Day 2: Camp Counselor of the Year Judges -- What was up with those guys? Were they even human?

Day 3: Other Camps -- Lake Lilac is home to Teen Church Camp, Pirate Camp, and who knows how many others? Let’s enjoy them!

Day 4: Larry -- Poor, poor undeserving Larry. RIP, my fuzzy man.

Day 5: Scotty -- Visual comedy camp? Seriously?

Day 6: Chucky -- What happened to him anyway?

Day 7: Your choice! Think I forgot the most important one? Time to correct that mistake! (Listen, if you’re mad I didn’t include Jen, consider this the Jen space.)

Nerris Appreciation Week

Devoted to the real(?) magic kid.

Day 1: The Cute -- Artists, draw how cute she is! Writers, maybe think about how the nickname came about! Or do something completely different! I don’t care!

Day 2: Magic War -- Explore her relationship with Harrison.

Day 3: Elf-kin -- What does that even look like? What does it mean?

Day 4: Bonding with Mere Mortals -- The camp is full of people and animals. Pick one and play with their relationship with Nerris.

Day 5: Dice -- What do they look like? How did she get them?

Day 6: Fandom -- A girl that excited about fantasy has to be quite the fan of a lot of things. Show us her interacting with her favorite stuff.

Day 7: Her Party -- Her relationship with her slightly-clueless mother and extremely-geeky dad.

Space Kid Appreciation Week

The most obvious appreciation week in the entire world.

Day 1: Astronaut -- Whether you want to show him all grown up or as a little kid, give us a glimpse of what Neil the real-life spaceman would be like.

Day 2: Aliens -- Another type of spaceman.

Day 3: Fishbowl -- A day to just appreciate his adorable, impractical costume.

Day 4: Punching Bag -- He’s been pushed around and disregarded by Max, Nurf, Max, the counselors, various animals, and Max. This is a day dedicated to his unfortunate luck and indomitable good spirit.

Day 5: Sick -- After that trip he took across the lake to the moon, and barely surviving the flu zombies, Space Kid could probably use some patching up.

Day 6: Science Guys -- The two Neils, bonding.

Day 7: SPACE!!! -- Give us Space Kid interacting with his favorite hobby ever.

Ered Appreciation Week

A very very cool week.

Day 1: Skater -- Even on the camp’s awful cardboard halfpipe, Ered’s still a budding Tony Hawk.

Day 2: Dye -- Dedicated to her awesome -- dare we say cool? -- hair.

Day 3: Camp Kool Kidz -- Celebrate her short-lived tenure as the head of Camp Campbell.

Day 4: Extreme -- What other extreme sports does she like to get up to?

Day 5: Queen Bee -- Her relationship with one or more of the other campers.

Day 6: Wipeout -- She gets injured a lot, doesn’t she?

Day 7: Cool Gay FBI Dads -- They’re the most wholesome family that regularly gets into gunfights.

Harrison Appreciation Week

Devoted to the . . . real(?) magic kid? (Didn’t we already do this?)

Day 1: Harry’s Son -- His outfit is pure Vegas showman, his VA and accent seem to suggest Israeli descent, and he may or may not be a literal wizard. His parents are terrified of him, but his mom says he’ll grow into his looks. Give some backstory to this lovable kid and his love of illusions.

Day 2: Actual, Real, Terrifying Magic -- This kid isn’t messing around. From summoning fireballs to making both objects and living things appear and disappear, he has some serious supernatural chops.

Day 3: Apprenticeship -- He and Nikki’s relationship consists of equal parts mutual admiration and mayhem. What do the two of them get up to behind the scenes?

Day 4: Brother -- Time for theories (and angst, of course angst) about how and why he “made his brother disappear.” 

Day 5: Any Resemblance to Bill Cipher is Pure Coincidence -- . . . probably. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t fun to imagine that crossover!

Day 6: Frenemies -- Harrison has a habit of getting on people’s nerves. Pick at least one character and develop their relationship with the magic kid.

Day 7: Hufflepuff Pride -- Jordan Cwierz confirmed it! This last day is about celebrating all things yellow and black and (mostly) well-intentioned.

Dolph Appreciation Week

I know, he’s controversial. But he’s a kid with a passion for art and no understanding of history, and he could use some love as well.

Day 1: Painting -- Exactly what it says on the tin. While he is clearly skilled at lots of different types of art, this is the one he seems to like the most.

Day 2: Where’s the Yellow? He is the only one who doesn’t wear anything camp-themed. Give us a glimpse of what might’ve happened to that signature yellow clothing.

Day 3: Stage Manager -- Multiple times throughout the series Dolph is shown as Preston’s right-hand man by helping him design sets and acting in his plays; Preston even returns the favor by posing for a painting. Today is dedicated to the strange relationship of the theatre and art kids.

Day 4: Camp Counselor of the Year! Incredibly, Dolph appears to be quite the competent leader for his age, and his one day of running the camp went smoothly for the most part. Maybe he has the makings of a great counselor after all.

Day 5: The Elephant in the Room -- We all knew it was coming. Whether you find the Hitler jokes hilarious or offensive, everyone has an opinion about this particular character choice. Now’s the time to speculate what happens when he gets older, or completely retcon this aspect of his personality, or do whatever you’d like to with his . . . peculiarities.

Day 6: Father Issues -- According to the show’s wiki, “his father is an American lieutenant, who raised him on a German army base where he supposedly gained a love of art and soccer like many Europeans, much to his father's dismay.” Oof, that’s a lot to unpack. Time for backstory!

Day 7: Not Such a Bad Kid -- Despite his . . . controversial elements, Dolph as a character seems fairly sweet and oblivious, and is loved by a significant portion of the fanbase for these qualities. A free day of sorts, this is about accentuating the positive and appreciating the awkward, artistic weirdo underneath the jokes.

Nikki Appreciation Week

I was really close to not including this, because I don’t consider her an underrated character exactly, but Neil has a week and, let’s be honest, it’d be fun.

Day 1: Rough n’ Tumble -- Nikki isn’t afraid of fighting, and she’s no stranger to getting dirty or even hurt. Show the wild child doing something fun, reckless, and probably not very smart.

Day 2: Raised by Wolves -- Imagine an AU where she actually was as much a literal daughter of the forest as she wants to be.

Day 3: Just a Tiny Bit Traditional -- Despite being such a tomboy, there’s a part of Nikki that is deeply romantic and even maternal. Whether through a version of her that’s a bit older or a quiet moment at the camp, show us a little bit more of her gentle side.

Day 4: BFFs, Potential Step Siblings, Sidekicks -- A day to appreciate Neil and Nikki’s relationship, whatever you see that as.

Day 5: Flower Scout Nikki -- What was her time across the lake like?

Day 6: Parent Troubles -- She and her mom have a difficult relationship, and her dad doesn’t seem to be around that much. Show us Nikki and one or more of her guardians, and what that relationship might be like.

Day 7: Holidays! Her first and greatest love is Christmas, but there’s probably not a holiday she wouldn’t throw herself into. Give her a chance to celebrate any holiday you want!

Preston Appreciation Week

Get ready for some high-octane theatrics!

Day 1: A Flair for the Dramatic -- I don’t care what you do with this one, just give it lots of DRAMA!

Day 2: Speak Up -- Preston and his grandmother are really close, but his parents seem to be AWOL. Every Appreciation Week needs a backstory- and/or family-centric day, and that’s what this is.

Day 3: Cosplay -- What’s Preston’s favorite play? Let’s have him dress up like a character in that show.

Day 4: Stage Presence -- Give the boy a spotlight and an audience!

Day 5: The Bard -- He seems to love writing and directing even more than performing. Show him creating the next Hamilton (or more likely, Hamilton’s weird sequel involving pirates and aliens).

Day 6: Theater Nerd -- Either as a high school AU or just some time in the future, image Preston fully engrossed in that drama club life.

Day 7: Tribe -- Every weirdo has their group of friends. Either through OCs or other characters in Camp Camp, give or describe the people that make up the group in which he belongs.

Nurf Appreciation Week

Gaylord Nurfington, much like Shrek, is like an onion: smelly, surprisingly layered, and will probably make you cry.

Day 1: Big N Tough -- He’s built like a brick shithouse and mean as a bear, and that’s part of why we love him. Celebrate the fact that this guy can (and probably will) kick anyone’s ass.

Day 2: Theater Kid? -- We’ve seen Nurf involved in Preston’s productions more than once. Have some fun with his apparent interest in the performing arts.

Day 3: His Mother’s Boy -- Mother and son time!

Day 4: Surprising Depths -- Show Nurf doing something no one would ever have thought he would enjoy and/or be good at.

Day 5: A Thoughtful Bully . . . -- As the self-proclaimed most self-actualized character in the show, Nurf has proven to be remarkably cognizant of his own issues and respectful of others’. Give him a positive-ish interaction with another character.

Day 6: . . . Is Still a Bully -- But let’s be real: Nurf can be a total jerk. Let the kid be mean today!

Day 7: Knives -- Where the hell is he getting all of those, anyway? Regardless, show Nurf with his favorite toys.

Flower Scouts Appreciation Week

They’ll kill you with a smile and fantastic hair, then they’ll use their drug contacts to bury the bodies.

Day 1: Grace & Class -- No one is prettier and daintier than these angels -- and nobody knows it better than them.

Day 2: Nicer than Disneyland -- Whether you’d like to focus on their shady cookie dealings, the washed-up Miss Priss, or even invent your own Scout, give yourself a chance to explore a part of the Flower Scouts that hasn’t been given much screentime yet.

Day 3: Sasha -- A day dedicated to the quintessential Queen Bee. Manipulative, clever, and pretty damn selfish, Sasha is undoubtedly the leader of the Scouts, and you better respect it.

Day 4: Erin -- If your heart hasn’t been captured by this heterochromatic science nerd, this day is not for you. But for the rest of us, grab your pumpkin spice and head off to Fraaaaance to celebrate her!

Day 5: Tabii -- What she lacks in common sense she makes up for with being absolutely terrifying. Tabii-with-two-eyes-with-one-eye is an emotional rollercoaster, and she deserves a little bit of love today.

Day 6: Not-So Delicate Girls -- From drug empires to vats of acid, the Flower Scouts have proven that they can kick a whole lot of ass. Show off how tough these girly-girls can really be!

Day 7: Garden Mother Kevin -- Come on. You knew it was coming.

Woodscouts Appreciation Week

They might be the cartoon answer to what would happen if Stormtroopers were body-swapped with Boy Scouts, but that’s part of their charm.

Day 1: A Shadowy Organization -- No girls are allowed, they don’t appear to have a troop leader, their camp is impenetrable, there seem to be maybe 5 Scouts at most . . . Pick something cool about this creepy camp and play around with it.

Day 2: Bitter Rivalries -- Between risky bets against Camp Campbell and popcorn/cookie sales against the Flower Scouts, it seems like the WS have a problem with basically everyone. Depict one or more interaction between them and their most bitter enemies.

Day 3: A New Recruit -- How on earth does Jermy fit into the Woodscouts’ routine? How has he not accidentally (or not-so accidentally) been incapacitated yet?

Day 4: Fearless Leader -- He’s slimy in more ways than one, but he keeps Troop #818 together and has even managed to snag a few recruits. That alone is worth a day of appreciation.

Day 5: Strong & Silent -- For someone who doesn’t talk much, Petrol has a lot of good advice and personality. Let’s celebrate his bromance with Snake, his willingness to be sacrificed for the WS, or even just his stubborn refusal to try leg day even once.

Day 6: Call him Snake -- Prince Zuko Billy might not be the most dignified character on the show, but he’s certainly the most honorable and is deadly with a candy cane.

Day 7: Like Family -- I just want to see some Woodscouts bonding, with each other or a character of your choice.

[caffeineivore]

For RaeRae

This is for @antivanonmytongue as the start of a cheer-up-emo project, as it were. 

Title: Bourbon

Author: Thalia

Rating: PG/PG13

'Ship: R/J for RaeRae!

Notes: This is dedicated to our RaeRae because we love her and she is going through hell. Stay strong, lovey! There may or may not be a homage to living in a bar...

As for the fic itself, it does not belong to any ficverse I have. Also, there is a town called Brave, Pennsylvania. However, there is probably not a bar called Hope's Landing in said town. I don't know, have never been there XD!

Thanks much to @antivanruffles for the help with plotting and stuff!!

*-*

It's a slow Sunday on a windy autumn day at Hope's Landing, and so when she walks into the place, looking a bit lost and forlorn underneath the bravado of a stubborn chin and a cherry-red designer trench coat and perfectly applied makeup, she stands out like a flame in the darkness. A dive bar in the tiny town of Brave, Pennsylvania, is definitely not the natural milieu for a young woman such as her, and Jesse Wilson pauses in between polishing a stack of rocks glasses and stares, just for a minute.

She walks in slowly, taking in the scratched and faded green baize of the pool tables in the back, the jukebox in the corner, the dark wood of the bar scarred and grooved from countless glasses rolling towards countless hands. Hair the glossy black of fresh ink spills down her back straight as rain. Manicured red nails clutch a buttery oversized leather handbag with a white-knuckled grip. The black stiletto heels she wears click on the worn floorboards, the sound over-loud in the bar's quiet. She selects a stool at the very far end of the bar and perches on it, and Jesse makes his way over with a faintly curious smile.

“What can I get for you?”

At a closer distance, her eyes are fabulous, a dark blue-violet like a twilight sky. “Maker's Mark, neat.”

He asks for ID, and she pulls out a New York license. The address is uptown Manhattan. “Raeanne Haley. Nice to meet you. My name is Jesse Wilson.”

Her hand is small and delicate and warm, almost swallowed by his, but she nods in thanks when he places the drink in front of her.

“You're far from home.”

“It's about a three hour drive,” she replies, and there's a veiled hint of escape written all over her features. Jesse, to whom Hope's Landing has been home for almost as long as he can remember, is good at getting a read on people, but Raeanne Haley is a very complex book open only a crack and written in very small letters that can't be deciphered at a glance. He's patient, though, and leaves her to her bourbon and thoughts.

The door to the bar opens to reveal a familiar diminutive figure. Earl Flynn is spry for his eighty-plus years, and moves to the bar only after he makes the rounds with all the regulars. He'd once upon a time fought alongside Jesse's grandfather in World War II, part of the same squadron, and he still wears his tags even now, over an ancient Steelers shirt. He accepts a beer from Jesse with a gracious smile and sidles over to the mysterious Raeanne Haley.

“What's a nice girl like you doing at a dump like this, then?” The question would have been rude on a lot of levels coming from anyone else than Earl, but the girl Raeanne does not seem offended, and returns his smile with a tentative one of her own.

“Resting, for the moment.”

“Well, this place on a Sunday surely is restful,” Earl tells her, even as he lifts his beer in a toast. “Now, it's almost too quiet. Not like a Friday or Saturday night, though. But our Jesse can deal with the riff-raff, so don't you worry.”

Raeanne nods and slowly sips her whiskey, and Earl keeps up a steady stream of conversation about the football game playing on the television screen, the prospect of taking his grandkids trick-or-treating on Halloween, coming up later that month, and how long the fine weather would last before it would take a turn for the worse.

“... And we should have some music in here, shouldn't we?” Earl stands and makes his way to the jukebox. “None of these crotchety fellas know how to entertain a lady. Not used to having one hereabouts.” With a wink which must have been rakish once upon a time and still full of charm, he grins at Raeanne, then feeds coins into the machine. Even as low guitar notes come on, Earl calls out for Jesse quite a bit louder than the music.

“Jesse, why don't you have a dance floor in here? Maybe we can get some more customers that way. Especially pretty ladies like her. What do you think?”

The song that Earl selected is 'Lady in Red' by Chris DeBurgh, and the old man couldn't have been more obvious if he tried. Jesse glances at Raeanne Haley in her red trench coat, and smiles wryly. “I don't think that pretty ladies like places such as these, for the most part.”

“Well, you could always change her mind. Come on, come on,” Earl is not to be deterred once he is dedicated to a set path, and apparently his mind is made up. “There's nobody here to bother you. Walter and Frank and Barry don't need anything, and neither do I. You should dance with the girl.”

Jesse glances at Raeanne, who has set down her half-finished whiskey, and even as she stands, he comes out from behind the bar. “He's harmless,” he finds himself telling her, even as she lays her hand in his, impulsiveness warring with what seems to be innate aloofness on her beautiful face. “You don’t have to. But I hope you don't mind.”

She doesn’t seem to, and when he puts his other hand on her waist and pulls her in just a little bit closer, the top of her head reaches his lips. He only has to bend his head a little bit to whisper so that no one else can hear them.

“What brings you here to Brave, Pennsylvania?”

“Oh, just… stopping for a bit,” she answers softly. Her lips curve up in a tremulous smile as those amethyst eyes meet his blue ones. “I’m on an impromptu road trip. My best friend from college lives out in LA. I could just fly, of course, but I hate both LaGuardia and JFK, and… this way I can take my time.” Maybe the whiskey has relaxed her a little, or maybe it was Earl’s somewhat one-sided conversation. “I paid a cabbie a good amount of cash to just drive… drive until I told him to stop. And here I am.”

“You told him to stop here?” Earl, the sly bastard, has another slow song playing even as the first one draws to a close. But Raeanne doesn’t seem to mind, or notice. She’s soft in his arms and smells faintly like expensive perfume.

“I liked the name. Hope’s Landing.” She ducks her head and her hair brushes his jaw. “That sounds silly, doesn’t it?”

“This was my grandfather’s bar, back in the day,” Jesse tells her to the background music of Elvis crooning ‘Love Me Tender’. “Hope was his mother’s name. He named it after her because she was not really a showy type of woman. Homey, I guess. Sort of like he wanted this place to be.” Jesse smiles wryly as their eyes meet. “This is definitely not a showy type of bar, I’ll say that much. Nothing like New York City.”

“New York is overrated,” Raeanne huffs out a breath. “I’m escaping, if we’re being completely honest. Mina’s okay with putting me up indefinitely in LA; I’ll probably have my stuff shipped there soon. I just needed a change.”

Jesse wonders for a second if Mina in LA is Mina Averill, the rising supermodel and actress, then dismisses the notion as preposterous. “Well, you are well and truly not in New York City any more, Dorothy,” he says gently. “I’m not quite sure what the exact population of this town is, but I’m also quite sure that the population of Manhattan itself is greater.”

“Yeah, and when everyone you know is either a lawyer or a politician or a Wall Street exec or some horrible combination of the three…” Raeanne wrinkles her nose, then shakes her head as Elvis finishes and Sinatra takes his place. “I usually stick to wine. I’m not this chatty as a rule.”

“Maybe you just needed to talk,” Jesse says, and then pulls back enough to look her in the eye. “But if you don’t want to drink on an empty stomach, I could probably make you a sandwich or something.”

“Yes, you go do that, Jesse,” Earl chimes in, as though sensing that the dancing has come to a close, and winks again at Raeanne. “Our Jesse is a good boy. His grandfather and I were friends since we were young. Charlie might have passed five years ago, God rest his soul, but he made sure that our Jesse was raised right.”

Jesse leaves the old man to extol his virtues and takes the stairs in the back of the bar up to the apartment on the second floor. Hope’s Landing doesn’t boast a kitchen or serve food beyond beer nuts and pretzels, but he lives right above it, and while turkey and swiss on rye is probably not typical fare for one such as Raeanne Haley, he returns with the sandwich shortly.

“Thank you.” She accepts it, seeming to know that it’s the exception rather than the rule, and gives him a real smile before tucking in. She’s dainty in that ladylike way while eating, but doesn’t seem to care about crumbs or the fact that she’s only got beverage napkins to wipe her mouth and hands.

The night draws on; more regulars mosey on in, including a pair of ancient, tattooed bikers who offer to teach Raeanne how to play pool. She declines, graciously, but seems to have relaxed as the time draws on. In any case, she watches the game with interest, and when the shorter, skinnier biker wins, claps politely amidst the raucous cheers of the rest of them. She’s still there, unaccountably, her whiskey long-gone and her plate empty, when the clock strikes midnight and the lights come on.

“We close early on Sundays,” Jesse tells her as he finishes cashing out. Under the bright lights, she’s even lovelier, with pale skin and flawless cheekbones. She pays for her drink with a black American Express and signs the slip with flowing, finishing-school script. He doesn’t charge her for the sandwich, but even after the last stragglers make their way towards the door, she remains seated, and he cocks his head to the side. “Do you… do you have a place to stay for the night?”

She shrugs, pulls out a cell phone. “I could Uber it to the closest hotel, I guess. I’m sorry. I was having fun.”

And all of the sudden he feels like he’s on the precipice of something-- something a lot bigger and more important than small talk with a pretty stranger on a random Sunday night. He swallows the surge of nerves and clears his throat. “Well, and please don’t take this in a creepy way, but… you could crash here if you want. I live upstairs. There’s a spare room.”

She stares at him for a moment without speaking, so he hurries on. “You don’t have to, of course. I’m not sure if Uber is available out here, to be honest with you. But if you’d like, I could probably also give you a ride somewhere if you have a place in mind.”

And then she smiles. “You sure I could just crash upstairs? You barely know me.”

“Yeah, and you barely know me. But… yeah, I’m sure. I don’t mind. I just have one question.”

“Mm-hmm?”

“Do you like cats?”

*~*

Jesse’s apartment is accessible through the back of the bar, up a flight of stairs, and it is a tidy, open-plan space with two bedrooms, one of which seems to be used as an office with a futon. A small-ish tabby cat darts out from under the coffee table and heads straight for Raeanne’s legs, winding circles around her ankles and staring up with wide, green-and-gold eyes.

“That’s Jim Beam, or JB for short,” Jesse tells Raeanne with a chuckle even as she stoops down to pet the cat. “He’s usually not this friendly. I found him a few months ago as a kitten, hiding out the rain under an empty Jim Beam carton out by the dumpster, hence his name.” Jim Beam apparently finds Raeanne to his liking, because in very short order, he is butting his head against her hand and purring. Raeanne takes a seat on the sofa and the cat hops into her lap, curling up in a ball and blinking slowly in an attitude of contentment, and Jesse grins at her. “He likes you. Anyway, do you need anything? Water? A tour? A t-shirt to sleep in? All of the above?”

She finds herself agreeing to ‘all of the above’, and smiles to herself when she sees the bread bag on the kitchen counter, left untied from when he’d made her that sandwich. Jesse pulls out the futon in the office, but insists that she takes his room instead, fetching fresh sheets and pillows out of a small linen closet and a plain white t-shirt out of the dresser drawer. Jim Beam follows Raeanne into every room, then hops onto the easy chair in Jesse’s bedroom, curling his tail around his feet.

“Shower’s through that door down the hall. And you can probably kick that cat out of that chair to put your stuff,” Jesse says as he efficiently changes the bed-linens. Raeanne exchanges a glance with Jim Beam, and sets her handbag on the bureau instead. She walks up to Jesse just as he finishes straightening up the sheets.

“You don’t have to do any of this for me, you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” he says with a smile. “But, I also know not to subject a lady to a futon.”

That’s not at all what she’s referring to and she’s sure he knows it, but something in his dark blue gaze causes her to acquiesce. She stands on tiptoe, and the jaw that comes in contact with her lips is warm and scratchy with stubble.

“Well, thanks. And good night.”

He lays his hand on her shoulder for a moment, nods, and quietly walks out. Raeanne quickly gets ready for bed and curls up underneath the blankets. The sheets smell like him-- plain soap and detergent, no overpriced cologne, and the pillows are soft. This was not quite what she’d planned when she left New York, but… a smile crosses her face and she stares up at the ceiling and says nothing.

Halfway through the night, Raeanne wakes up briefly to Jim Beam hopping on the bed and curling up on the pillow next to hers. She sleepily runs her fingers over the cat’s soft fur, and lets the purring lull her back to the best sleep she’s had in months.

*~*

Raeanne wakes the next morning to the smells of coffee and bacon and the sound of Ruby Tuesday by the Rolling Stones playing faintly on the radio. Jim Beam meows at her from by the bedroom door, and she follows the cat to the kitchen, padding in barefooted and still wearing the borrowed t-shirt. Jesse’s back is turned towards her as he flips a piece of bacon in the skillet, but he turns with a smile before she even says a word.

“How do you take your coffee?”

“Black,” she replies, and at his gesture, helps herself. Within a few moments, they’re seated across from each other at the cheap dinette set and eating scrambled eggs and bacon as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Jim Beam cannily positions himself at the optimal spot to beg from both of them, and Raeanne is sure that between herself and Jesse, the cat gets away with a good two slices of bacon. Raeanne eats her fill and watches Jesse from underneath her lashes. His hair shines golden in the sunlight streaming through the kitchen window, and when he smiles, he has a single dimple in his left cheek. She, on the other hand, looks vastly different wearing no makeup and his t-shirt than her norm, and yet, he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Want me to do the dishes?” She gathers her plate and mug and walks over towards the kitchen sink. Certainly it is not a task that she has ever needed to tackle. But even-- or perhaps especially-- a Manhattan socialite knows that something cannot come from nothing.

Jesse says nothing, but before she can reach for the sponge, gently takes both of her hands in his, and pulls her away. His fingers are callused and rough against her manicured ones, and he doesn’t let her go even when they’re a few feet away from the sink. She finds herself staring up at him in wonder and a little bit of consternation.

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

The smile warms his whole face, including his ocean blue eyes. “Because you need it.”

Raeanne’s next breath hitches in her throat, and she stares down at her bare feet for a moment because the kindness radiating from his whole being is warm and almost unbearable, like being a shade too close to a hearth fire. Her toenails match her fingernails exactly, and she takes a deep breath before glancing up again. “Why do you say that?”

“I just know.” A wry, slightly cheeky smile crosses his face. It’s not stubbly like last night, but he still smells like plain soap and detergent with a hint of coffee thrown in now. “You don’t owe me anything, Raeanne.”

Her name sounds smooth and low on his tongue, and when she frowns at what he says, he chuckles. “Well. I wouldn’t say no to another dance. But don’t tell Earl, or he’ll never let me hear the end of it.”

“I won’t,” she answers, and even as Queen’s ‘Someone To Love’ starts playing on the radio, she lets him draw her close. Without her heels, he sort of dwarfs her, and in this tiny, sun-lit kitchen, it’s even closer and more intimate than last night downstairs at the bar. But Raeanne lets her eyes fall closed as they sway infinitesimally to the rhythm, and her face fits perfectly into the crook of his neck. Underneath her lips, his pulse isn’t completely steady, and that gives her courage.

“Jesse?” Her voice is muffled against soft cotton and warm skin. “How long can I stay?”

The hand at her waist pulls her just a little closer, and his breath stirs tendrils of her hair. “How long do you want to stay?”

She draws back just enough to look up into his face, and lets herself wonder, only for a moment, why it seems so familiar-- why everything from the moment she’d stepped out of the cab until now seems like destiny knocking. But she still manages a quip. “Until Big Bill and Marty teach me how to shoot pool, maybe.”

“Mmm, and are you a quick study?”

She’s close enough to all but count individual eyelashes, close enough to taste that he drinks his coffee black, just like her, but leans in even closer. Suddenly, she knows that she’s not going to LA after all, though Mina would probably squeal over it later, much later, on the phone once she got through the army of assistants and minions. Raeanne smiles, and answers his question just before she lets her lips brush his as though coming home at last.

“Yeah.”

[hydrus]

Version 369

windows

zip

exe

os x

app

linux

tar.gz

source

tar.gz

I had a good week. The file maintenance system works better, and files now know their 'modified' dates.

file maintenance

The new file maintenance system now works smarter and more productively. Previously, it did rare bursts of hard work in idle time, and now it does small amounts of work all the time. You do not have to do anything--it will now keep up with its behind-the-scenes queues more quickly and quietly, hopefully without giving you any hassle. The only significant difference is file maintenance no longer occurs on shutdown. If you are not interested in any details, you can skip the following completely.

Its settings under options->maintenance and processing have changed a little--rather than the old '200 files per day' default, it now has faster '1 work unit per 2 seconds/20 seconds' for idle/normal time. These values should not tax your system or interfere with other programs or interrupt your browsing. If you have a faster or slower computer, feel free to change them. If the work does make your browsing juddery, please do turn off work in normal time, which you can do in the options or now more quickly at database->maintain->file maintenance. The 'work unit' is part of a new weighting system that lets fast jobs--like checking for file presence on the hard drive--count for less work in the throttle and process faster than bigger jobs like regenerating thumbnails.

When I added the 'go through all video files and scan for has_audio property' job some weeks ago, it added 100,000+ jobs for many users. The 200/day default was not cutting it, so this new 'lots of light work all the time' mode should get these big jobs done in reasonable time without going nuts. It also updates thumbnails in real-time, so there is the smallest chance you'll see one of the new 'has audio' icons fade into one of your thumbnails right as you look at it! The new processing also helps for another large retroactive job being added this week--figuring out file modified dates:

file modified dates

Many users have asked if the client can let you see and search by files' filesystem modified dates. This week does the first half of this. Files imported to hydrus will now know their modified date, display it in the information lines on a file's right-click menu, and let you sort thumbnails by it.

Files downloaded in hydrus will have the same modified date as their import time (this information is not preserved on websites), but any files you import from your hard drive with dates from 2003 or something should get that date.

Your existing files will not know their modified dates immediately, but a large maintenance job has been added to the file maintenance system to retroactively figure them out. This work will catch up in a few days to a few weeks, depending on the size of your collection. Modified dates are preserved through a hydrus import, so it should all work out correct. The only caveat to this is hydrus did not preserve modified date as of, I think, about four years ago. If you are a long time user, any files that were imported before then will likely have modified dates equal to their hydrus import dates.

I hope to add system:modified date next week, to work exactly like system:time imported.

the rest

You can now sort your tags lexicographically while ignoring namespace. This makes 'series:metroid' sort before 'character:samus aran' because 'metroid' < 'samus aran'.

I split up the repository download/process code components a bit this week. It doesn't make a huge difference, but now there is a 'download now' button on the review services panel that lets you get a metadata sync immediately rather than having to wait for the background daemon to do it. The split should improve some locking/delaying issues some users had, particularly with the initial sync.

The Linux build has a much newer version of OpenCV. Let me know if your images load quicker/more reliably!

The 'export files' panel has a saner button for selecting and editing the tag services that export to neighbouring .txt files. It remembers the last selection of services better than before.

full list

file maintenance:

the file maintenance manager now works continuously in the background, optionally in both idle and active time, with two different throttles, which are now always active

as usual, the default throttles are low-load (1 heavy job every 2 (idle) or 20 (normal) seconds), so as not to interfere with your browsing or other programs--feel free to speed them up as you wish

the options for file maintenance under 'maintenance and processing' are updated, and quick-pause actions are now available under database->maintain->file maintenance

the file maintenance manager no longer works on shutdown

the file maintenance manager will now only make a popup if it is started by the user--it otherwise now works silently in the background

the file maintenance manager now weights its jobs, so quick jobs will run faster and heavy jobs will space out more. exact weights, if you are interested, are now under the 'see description' button on the maintenance panel

file maintenance jobs now report to the debug file report mode

improved some misc file maintenance code, particularly with how the panel talks to the manager

media with new metadata will now refresh their thumbnails (for now, this means updating the has_audio icon)

.

modified timestamps:

the client now records file modified timestamps of all file imports!

on update, the retroactive population of this data for all existing local files will be scheduled on the file maintenance system, which has a new job type for this

the modified time now appears on a file's information lines that present on a right-click

the modified time can be sorted with the new 'file: modified time' sort

.

the rest:

added lexicographic sort by subtag (ignoring namespace) to the normal taglist sort selection

reworded the sort by lexicogrphic (grouped by namespace), to be (group unnamespaced)

the export files panel now has an explicit button to change the neighbouring .txt file tag services

on duplicate merge action options panel, 'sync archive' is no longer disabled for advanced users' 'alternates' duplicate action

split the download and process sync components of repositories a little

added a 'download now' button to repositories' review services panels, to hurry up metadata/update download when possible

the 'process now' button's enable/disable states should now be more reliable

the 'refresh account' button now disables when a repository is paused

improved stability of 'process now' button post-job updating

added a subscription option to the downloading option panel to change how many file-fails in a run will cause a sync to stop working early

re-added the truncated image loading mode to the debug->data actions menu. this has hung indefinitely with some bad files, so it not on by default

fixed an issue with copying an external local booru url with a upnp port

fixed an unrecoverable ui hang when a modal popup wants to self-terminate while a child yesno is open

if on a hydrus request the session key is invalid (due, for instance, to a recent serverside session clearing :^)), the session key cookie will now correctly be cleared clientside so a new one can be generated automatically on the next request

hydrus services can now take the access key as their credential using the 'Hydrus-Key' header. more options will come here, basically the same as the client api

network jobs waiting on a login process now continue faster once the login is complete (5s sleep cycle down to 1s)

perhaps fixed some linux problems with tag migration panel, perhaps not

caught and silenced a rare unimportant services shutdown error

updated to opencv 4.1.1 on the linux build

updated windows ffmpeg to 4.2.1

next week

Finishing up the modified date system search predicate, doing a bit of client api work, and getting into the meat of the new unified tag display system, which I briefly started this week.

[paranoidsbible]

Uncle-Daddy’s Big Book of Deception

Uncle-Daddy’s Big Book of Deception Non-profit and free for redistribution Written on September 13th | 2016 Published on September 13th | 2016 For entertainment and research purposes only

================================================= DISCLAIMER The Paranoid's Bible and its writers hold no responsibility for the acts of others. The Paranoid’s Bible is for research and entertainment purposes only. Please visit our blog for more PDFs and information: https://www.paranoidsbible.tumblr.com/ ================================================= Contents DISCLAIMER    2 Preface    4 Clone Wars    5 Dirty SEO Tactics    6 Get a Friend Involved    7 Midwestern Theory    8 Be a Good Person, Share    9 Don’t Neglect Reality    10 Afterword    11 ================================================= Preface When I shot the PB team a PM on their blog I didn’t expect my critique to become a quick gig of helping them hammer out a PDF on deception. After much consideration and a few shots of cheap tequila, I agreed to help them out. Because why not? They have a decent idea and are trying to help the pitiful users of today’s internet. So here you guys & gals go: a guide on being a deceptive bastard on the internet and preventing people from getting a good grasp on your information. ================================================= Clone Wars If you’re reading this, then I’ll assume you’ve read The Paranoid’s Bible PDF and the PDF on OPSEC. You should have a grasp on the DOs and DON’Ts of the internet. However this will break those rules just a teensy bit in order to help you create garbage data and digital noise to obscure your real identity and information.  The PB tells you that you should always use a unique username for each account and never repeat this username elsewhere, yet there is an exception to this rule: Cloning. While cloning has several names, I’m partial to the term cloning because it gets the message across—make multiple accounts across the internet using the same username but with different information concerning the basic image of its creator. When you create an account you always end up adding just a tiny bit of yourself to it. Using the ‘About Me’ or ‘Description’ or those pesky bios… you’re going to use these and differentiate each account by giving it its own persona. So while you’re following the advice of the PB team and their various guides, these cloned accounts will be vastly different. Go nuts and use your imagination but remember some simple facts. Globally, European names aren’t all that common. Look at the current global makeup of the Earth’s population. Islamic-like names of Muhammad are quite popular, as are Asian names and East Indian names. While the majority of Western sites are heavily European and Americentric, it doesn’t hurt to mix it up with a Vash or Aiko. Of course, you can then flesh it out a bit more by giving them a European or American-sounding last name and background. You want these accounts to be completely different from your own. Everything about the personas being made for these accounts are not to be related to you or your ‘main account’. You don’t want them to ever communicate with each other or touch in any way. You must keep them completely separated, which is why you’ll be making them on various forums, social media sites and chats. The more ground you cover, and the more varied the accounts are the less likely people can make a cohesive argument as why this piece of information or that data is supposed to be related to you. For example, you make an account on deviantART. They’ve a little bio app that you can adhere to your profile. So, if you made yourself a Tumblr account, then the deviantART account is to not only be different in description but also look. If you hate Undertale, then the deviantART persona loves it. You like yellow, they love blue. So on and so forth until you’ve suddenly a teenage female artist with an Asian background who moved to the U.S. and knows very little about their own Asian heritage, ergo they cling to their last name which sounds Japnese-ish. By doing this, if someone were to ever look for information to use against you or to grab your dox, they end up on a wild goose chase where they’re looking for someone who doesn’t exist. Dirty SEO Tactics There are numerous ways to pollute a search engine’s results with “dirty pages”. Their page rank might not be all that existent, however they do tend to clutter around specific search terms like a username or a piece of common information laced into profiles or bios in order to throw someone off a trail. Now, to do this you need to have clean and organic looking back links. However one good way to populate an account with seemingly organic back links is to use one of the numerous “generators” that usually end up hurting your SEO in the long run. We don’t care about the long run, though. This is a short game tactic that translates into, in the long run, a small, albeit affective little trail duster meant to help cover some of your tracks. These three links are a good start; however there exist numerous “generators” that can be used. Using these three for all of your clone accounts should help you spark a little bit of a boost in their appearance on Google and Bing. With enough accounts under a similar or the same username, you can basically pollute the search results to help cover your main account with the clone accounts. https://www.freebacklinkbuilder.net/ https://sitowebinfo.com/back/ https://www.indexkings.com/ Ensure you read the PB’s “Internet Primer” to help you reduce Ads and pop-ups when using these websites. While not intentionally malicious, numerous sites, like these, can have malicious Ads or pop-ups. ================================================= Get a Friend Involved Let’s say you’ve a friend that you really trust and they’re interested in privacy and security just like you. Here’s a suggestion: Get them involved. Have your friend help you by using one of their own persona/clone accounts to accuse one of yours of being something that currently upsets the moral majority. From there, work in some fake dox and a handful of other pieces of information. Work those bits and pieces into a believable “dox” and have your clone/persona take it a bit too personally and start acting like you’re panicked. Delete the blog after a few days of the drama, let your friend’s persona/clone do some victory posting and move on. People will believe that that information belongs to you and follow that trail instead of looking for your real information. And, if you followed the PB’s namesake you should have very little information out there. You can even be lazy and just make your own callout blog to attack your own persona/clones. In the end, though, you just want to create enough tension and static to misdirect people. ================================================= Midwestern Theory The PB team had a guide for this one however you don’t need an entire guide for what can fit in a chapter. I won’t bore you with the excessive details but some time ago when Newgrounds was the in-thing, someone got upset at people for making the claim that there were a lot of Californians online. This led to the Midwestern netizen forced meme that quickly died out. The claim of being Midwestern is actually a good ploy when covering up your tracks. The Midwestern accent (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Midwestern_accent) is easy to mimic and if you watch some Youtube videos (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-DlxCDlIfh0), you should find yourself being able to pick it up and force it when need be. Ideally you should never let anyone see your face or hear your voice, yet it does come in handy just in case. Mix the various “Midwestern quirks” with setting all your accounts’ time zones to “Central” and keeping tabs of the time (https://www.worldtimezone.com/time/wtzresult.php?CiID=32119) (Always pick a random city or state in the Midwest) and mix in some research on “College towns” (https://www.collegeraptor.com/college-rankings/best-colleges-in-the-midwest/)… you should be able to spice up your bios and descriptions with something akin to a specific college team or name dropping a college or university that you go to and study at. So when you log off or leave your account, stating something like “OMFG! It’s 12:30 am! I have to go and sleep! I have a compsci class @ 9!” Keep this up with several accounts, adding in the oddball California town or Florida town, and you’ll have created enough static to keep people scoping out the wrong area for information. Though keep in mind that a lot of plant life in the Midwest tends to spread out into non-Midwestern areas. Take a picture or two of common plants around the US that appear in the Midwest, too. Figure out what’s a common park or nature preserve in the area of your false town/city and look at the common trees or plants in the area. Take a picture of something that is in your area that is in that area, too, and tag it with #Yellowstone park or whatever is popular in that area. And suddenly… you’re a Midwestern grilling in sub-zero temperatures because you want your burger. Don’t forget to show your almost zealous obsession and support for that area’s sports teams and no one is going to suspect a thing. Maybe spice in some local news from the area and make a comment on the weather (It isn’t that hard to look up a weather report through Google) and you’re good as Gold. You’re a real Midwesterner now, bro. ================================================= Be a Good Person, Share The PB team has in their namesake PDF a guide on opting out of Google maps, among others. Take the information for getting out of Google maps (and others) and make a flyer. Print it out, take it to Kinkos or some other print shop, or go to your local library and print some copies there. Make some wheat paste (shown below) and paste them all over your town (Put paste on wall and smooth, then put your poster up and slather on paste and smooth it on it too.). Soon a whole mess of people will be blurring out their houses on the online maps, and this in turn messes with the real estate sites to the point of anyone trying to look up your information finds a mass of blurred out houses. This causes a mix of the “Streisand effect” and reasonable deniability. WHEAT PASTE HOW-TO Flour (wheat works best) Sugar 1 Cup of Water Container with a lid • Boil a cup of water. • Put 3 tablespoons of flour into a bowl • Add 10 teaspoons of cool water until it forms a runny mix • Once the water has boiled, add the runny mix to the boiling water. Stir well! • Keep stirring. The mixture will foam up while it boils, so the constant stirring is essential to keep it from bubbling over and to keep it from getting chunky. • Keep the mixture boiling for 2 minutes. • Take the boiled mix off the heat. Add 2 tablespoons or more of sugar (added strength) • Let it cool. Pour into an appropriate container for carrying with you. It will keep well for about a week. • Learn more @ https://destructables.org/destructable/wheatpaste-recipe-putting-postersbillboard-alterations • Spray with a clear sealant or hairspray to help weatherize and make the poster last longer. Police, military members, and their families can opt-out of a wealth of databases. Some take it to the extreme and have their houses blurred out. If enough people in your area begin to blur out their houses and look into other means of removing their information, you’ll soon see a bit of a trend that can affect several blocks when it comes to viewing houses on any online map. This means that you can not only safely blur out yours but it’d be near impossible to guess whose house is whose. It’s only defeated if they have an address, and that’s if it’s actually your address to begin with. Let these people rant and rave as they knock or send a malicious package to the wrong house. If anything happens, since it broke into the realm of reality, they’ll end up being arrested and charged with several crimes. Fun fact: Not many places care about doxing, especially the police. Most modern “dox” is openly available information. This is why you must work toward suppressing it through opting out of websites and databases. If someone takes it from the internet to the realm of reality, lawsuits and arrests can happen. ================================================= Don’t Neglect Reality No one’s denying the PB’s effectiveness when it comes to lessening the overall data of yours online, however until they discuss ways to limit information bleeding offline you’ll need to take a few extra precautions outside of creating noise and lessening your data. They do have a PDF on how your privacy’s invaded, yet that only covers so much. Be a little bit nihilistic and apathetic. Don’t care as much and don’t react if you are doxed or some gets a bit too close. Ignore them; work on lessening your information. In the offline realm however you should work on creating some good for yourself. This means work on cleaning up your neighborhood, keeping your property clean and being nice to your neighbors. Look into doing some volunteering and charity work. Create some good will toward yourself and lessen the general impact in case anything comes toward you and your life. By doing this you can create a large support focus toward you and what good you’ve done. People will be in disbelief and outright call the claims made against you false. Ever wonder why politicians and famous people, even the internet famous, never get much crap and have an unusually large support behind them? What they do is quite simple: Act like a good person. With bit of charity under your belt and by observing social protocols enough by simply greeting people and saying your “Please” and “Thank yous” you’ll create an air of being someone half way decent. People will see this and any accusations made against you will result in either demand for blood or death of someone who dares attack you. Now you shouldn’t encourage the bloodlust or wanting of death, however simply using your time wisely and helping your community can act as a good cover. Someone comes around and harasses you; someone who might have power will come to your aide possibly. It also doesn’t hurt to remove your information and have it replace with falsified information. Checkout https://reddit.com/r/freebies and keep an eye out for free magazine subscriptions. Fill out a few, regardless what they are, with your home address and a burner cell’s number. The name can be made up, possibly made to match the cultural and ethnic makeup of your area. Think about it. What are the most common people in your immediate area? White? Black? Hispanic? It doesn’t matter as long as you pick the majority and follow suit with their name. It’ll help further push that static to help cover your tracks. So if you’ve a large number of Hispanic families in your area, using a Hispanic sounding first and last name on your free magazine subscriptions can help you replace all your removed database records with falsified ones. Go the extra step, load up on other freebies. Anything you don’t need or want can be donated to a number of homeless shelters or shelters for women and/or children. Gives you an extra push in being a good person too! ================================================= Afterword Outside of following the PB’s advice, using a VPN, a non-propriety OS and not touching social media there’s not much else you can do. While being deceptive and sprinkling lies and half truths into your conversations and online shenanigans helps, most of us who were born in the 80s and 90s have screwed up royally and will never trulybe un-doxable or secure. Work toward anonymity and spread the PB’s information to as many people as you can. I should note however that your text and how you type can give you away too. Look into using a text editor and use Basic English spelling and grammar. Mix in some chat speak and some texting quirks and you should be able to keep the personas even more separated and unique.

[fadingfartconnoisseur]

Horse Trekking in Kyrgyzstan and Tackling the 3-Day Panorama Trek

When it comes to horse trekking in Kyrgyzstan most travellers tend to make a beeline for Song Kol. This is one of the best-known routes in the country and it’s the same route I took on my first trip to Kyrgyzstan.

Song Kol is as beautiful as can be and reaching the lakeside camp around sunset is about as postcard-perfect as it gets, but coming back to Kyrgyzstan for our second trip, Sam and I were looking to veer off the trodden trail and maybe try something new.

Luckily for us, in the past year, the tourism board has been developing a whole bunch of new trekking routes along Issyk-Kul’s south shore so we got to be one of the first travellers testing out one of the trails!

We ended up doing a 3-day horse trek along the Panorama Trail, which starts and ends in Bokonbayevo doing a big loop through the valley. Physically, it was a challenging 3 days that involved a mix of horse trekking and hiking, but it was also a rewarding 3 days where we shared meals with our host families, picnicked by alpine lakes, befriended the sweetest Kyrgyz hunting dog, came face to face with ancient petroglyphs, and saw the hard work that goes into being a shepherd in the summer pastures.

Here’s a recap of that adventure:

Day 1:

Riding to the jailoo, a crazy hail storm, and a light hike.

Our tour started at 9 in the morning when we were met by our guide who came to pick us up from our guesthouse in Bokonbayevo. He already had the horses saddled up and ready to go, so after saying goodbye to our host for a few days, we hopped on the horses and started the journey out of town.

This was a very easy day of riding with most of the terrain being relatively flat. We briefly rode through a residential area as we maneuvered our way out of town, but it wasn’t long before the landscape gave way to pink fields in bloom and mountains off in the horizon.

We rode a total of 4 hours that morning reaching camp right around lunch time, and let me tell you, we were ready for food!

Our host family had a large plot of land in the valley consisting of one modern two-story home and an older traditional stone house where they had the kitchen and ate their meals.

Feeling famished from a day of riding, we sat down at the table where we had a typical Kyrgyz food spread consisting of fried bread known as borsok, fresh-churned cream, raspberry jam, biscuits, fresh apricots, and non-stop cups of tea; the Kyrgyz are renowned for their hospitality and they’ll ensure your cup of tea is never empty!

Shortly after lunch, a hail storm unleashed above us, so we retreated to the yurt for cover. From the intensity of the thundering and lightning, I was expecting rain for the rest of the day, but the storm passed as quickly as it arrived. Within a half hour, the skies had cleared, the rain had stopped, and we just had a bit of hail left on the ground as evidence.

With the storm past us, our guide suggested an afternoon hike, so we walked up one of the hills for views of snow-capped mountains off in the distance. It was on this hike, that we also befriended the cutest Kyrgyz hunting dog who would become our companion for the rest of the trip! He was happy to tag along with us, take a detour or two when he spotted some prey, and then rejoin our trio for pets and ear scratches.

That evening we had dinner with the family. The wood-burning stove had warmed up the entire kitchen, so it was very toasty despite the low temperatures outside. We all sat down around the table, where we enjoyed heaping bowls of plov; a mixed-rice dish with carrots and beef.

Since it was already dark out but still too early to go to bed, we sat around in the kitchen watching a kok-boru match on their television. This is a popular game across Central Asia, often compared to polo, except instead of using a ball, players are trying to score with a sheep or goat’s carcass! This brought back some memories from the World Nomad Games where I first watched the game.

Day 2:

Steep inclines, an idyllic picnic, and the best views!

After a hearty breakfast of fried eggs, bread with cream and jam, and many cups of piping hot chai, it was time to say goodbye to our host family. We took lots of photos together on their smartphones (because rural living doesn’t mean you have to be disconnected!), and then it was back on the horses to continue the journey with our new dog friend in tow.

This was the hardest day of riding since it involved some steep inclines, but it was also the most beautiful day of riding bringing us ever closer to the snowy mountain peaks. The highest pass was 3,080 meters, but don’t let that scare you off; just be prepared to take it slow with lots of zig-zagging up the face of the mountain.

Also, lunch that day was about as scenic as it gets. We rode to a small alpine lake at the very top of one of the mountain passes where our guide laid out a picnic for us to share. Our meal consisted of loaves of bread, smoked cheese, sausage, juice, peanuts, dried apricots, bananas, chocolate bars, and more snacks than I can remember.

The whole experience was rather mystical because we had this thick fog rolling over us, so there were moments we were shrouded by a veil of grey, but then it would part and we’d get a glimpse of the scenery in front of us. It was one of the coolest picnic locations ever!

The afternoon trek was a bit challenging; now that we had gained all that altitude, we needed to come down the back face of the mountain. There were parts that I did on horseback, and other parts where I hopped off and hiked instead – if you’re not an experienced rider or your knees can’t handle going downhill, this is always an option.

It was a slow descent and I had to slide down on my rear on a couple of tricky sections, but in the end, we managed. I think we were all pretty thrilled to reach our camp – our guide included!

That night we stayed with a shepherding family in their summer home. It was a simple 2-room structure made of stone, mud and straw. The first room as soon as you entered the house was a dining area and kitchen; here they had a wood-burning stove, a low table, and a few mats for people to sit on. The other room was the family bedroom, which looked empty by day, but this is where they rolled the mats and blankets out at night.

I will admit that this was unlike any homestay I’ve ever done in the past and at first I felt a bit out of my comfort zone. In total, we slept 11 people to one room all lined up next to each other on the floor, but at the same time, everyone welcomed us so warmly and they were willing to share everything they had with us, that we couldn’t help but feel humbled by their generosity.

Without distractions like Wi-Fi, television, or books to pass time, we spent the afternoon watching the family herd their 700+ sheep and get them back into their corral for the night. We then had a dinner of oromo; a steamed layered dough filled with carrots, cabbage and potato, and then it was time for bed.

That night I fell asleep to the sounds of the family’s cooing baby, soft snoring, and the smell of fermented mare’s milk in the air.

Day 3:

Ancient petroglyphs, easy riding, and a farewell.

The following morning I woke up feeling refreshed by some of the best sleep of my life, but I guess fresh mountain air and some heavy blankets will do that to you.

For breakfast, we had white semolina porridge, bread with jam, and many cups of chai, and then again, it was time to say goodbye to our host family and hop on our horses.

This turned out to be a really easy day of riding, starting out with a slight downhill incline, before levelling out into flat terrain.

Halfway through the morning, we stopped off at a field that had giant boulders with petroglyphs. We were able to spot a camel, a mountain goat, and a man on horseback, who our guide claimed was Marco Polo himself. How cool is that? The petroglyphs were hiding in plain sight making history feel so palpable.

After visiting the petroglyphs, we had another picnic lunch. It was another generous spread consisting of flat bread, sausage, canned fish, biscuits, juice, nuts, raisins and more. Of course, we also fed our dear Kyrgyz hunting dog who was still with us on day 3. Our guide actually had to approach some locals to find out who owned the dog, and then leave him in someone’s yard to be picked up by his owner because otherwise, the dog would have walked with us all the way back into Bokonbayevo. It was bittersweet parting with the pup, who had earned the name Dog Friend, but he had a home and we were moving on.

After 3 days up in the mountains, it felt a bit strange arriving back in town. Even though Bokonbayevo has a population just over 10,ooo people, it still felt very busy!

Back in town, we returned to our guesthouse, picked up our luggage, and hopped in a taxi to Bel Tam, where we would spend the next 3 days doing a lakeside yurt stay, but that’s another story for another blog post.

Planning your trek from Bokonbayevo

CBT Kyrgyzstan (Community Based Tourism Kyrgyzstan) has offices across the country, including the town of Bokonbayevo. They can help arrange everything from drivers and homestays, to horse treks and day hikes. The best thing you can do is pop into their offices once you’re in town, or send them an email if you prefer to organize things in advance.We did our 3-day trek through them and had a great experience. They speak English in their offices and they can offer suggestions on routes that often aren’t even listed in your guidebook.

A few tips for trekking in Kyrgyzstan

Pack for all kinds of weather. Over the course of our 3-day trek, we had sunshine and overcast skies, hail storms and light rains. You could experience all of the above in one single day, so go for light and breathable layers that you can easily add and take off. Also, always have a rain-jacket on hand.

Protect yourself from the sun. Needless to say, the sun is a scorcher at high altitudes, so you’ll want to bring sunscreen and apply it more frequently than you normally would.

Drink lots of water. On that note, it’s also important you stay hydrated. We brought two bottles each and always finished them by mid-afternoon. Your guide will usually also be carrying extra water, but re-confirm that before you set out on your trek.

Wear the right shoes. Go for something sturdy that provides arch and ankle support. I did not pack the right shoes on this trip and regretted it. Hiking boots are ideal but at the very least a good pair of running shoes with tread.

Bring your bathroom essentials. That means toilet paper, baby wipes (no chance of a shower), and hand sanitizer.

Keep a flashlight handy. You’ll need it at night to find your way to the outhouse.

Choose what’s right for you. There are all kinds of treks in Kyrgyzstan in varying lengths and levels of difficulty. Some treks involve homestays, some yurt stays, and others camping in tents. Some treks are 2 weeks in length and others are only a half-day. Ask for information at the CBT offices so you know what you’re getting yourself into and then make an informed decision. You can find a few more tips for travel in Kyrgyzstan here.

Also, here’s a video from our 3-day horse trek so you can get a better idea of that trip:

  Have you been trekking in Kyrgyzstan? What were some of your favourite spots?

via Travel Blogs http://ift.tt/2w2QaTs

[chickensarentcheap]

Sanctuary -Chapter 46

WARNING: DARK TYLER,  MENTIONS OF BLOOD, MILD TORTURE, PROFANITY

TAGGING: @alievans007​, @thunderintheshadows​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @valkyrie-of-the-light​

It's five thirty in the morning when Tyler arrives at the storage facility, the hood of his sweater pulled over his head, sunglasses covering his eyes. Yaz said there'd been some 'activity' during the night; most likely homeless folks looking for a place to sleep, or thieves taking advantage of the night to break into some of the occupied lockers. Still, without knowing exactly who'd been poking around, it's better to take precautions; hide your face, cover the numbers on your license plate, only use your SAT phone within a kilometre of the place.  Small things that can often make the difference between life and death.

There's three insulated coolers in the back of the SUV -filled with bags of ice and bottles of water- and he leaves them for the time being; killing the engine and then gathering up the cardboard carry out tray of hot drinks and the bag of breakfast foods that sit in the passenger seat.  It's a cooler morning; a stiff breeze rolling in from the east, bringing with it the smells of rotting garbage and pollution produced by the surrounding industrial plants.  And he keeps his head down as he climbs out of the car, shutting the door with his hip and setting the alarm via remote, the soles of his boots crunching against dirt and debris as he heads through the gate and towards the front entrance. Eyes always searching; skirting left in right, constantly on the look out for anything suspicious or any sign of trouble.

Michael McMann is still restrained to the chair; hands still secured behind his back,  ankles still tethered, hood still over his head, chin tucked into his chest.

“You're early,” Yaz comments from where he sits in the far corner of the room with his laptop on his thighs.

“Couldn't sleep. He been awake at all?”

“Couple times. Totally flipping his shit. Calling you all sorts of filthy names. Were your ears ringing? Because they should have been.  And he may or may not have had an accident.”

Tyler arches an eyebrow. “What kind of accident? I don't like cleaning up piss or shit when it's kids, never mind an adult. So if you left that for me...”

“Nothing like that. He lost his balance when I took him over to the bucket to take a leak. Took a header right off the floor. Split his forehead open pretty good. Thought he was going to bleed out all over the goddamn place and I might have to call an ambulance.  But as you can see, he's still here. Breathing.”

“You make that sound like a bad thing.”

“Bad thing for him, maybe. He's going to wish he was dead when you get through with him. What'cha bring me?” Ya peers into the paper bag that Tyler sets down on the table. “Hardening of the arteries, that's what you brought me.  I like working with you much better than my sister. She's into all this healthy shit that tastes just like that. Shit.  You spoil me. If you weren't already married, I'd scoop you right up.”

“I already told you, you're not my type. You're a brunette, but you're way too tall and way too skinny. I'd break you in half.”

“Hey, if Esme can handle you, I can handle you.  I honestly don't understand how someone as small as her, can carry a baby made by you inside of that little body. Especially two at the same time? You're like a fucking giant compared to her. How do you guys manage to...you know...”

“I am not discussing my sex life with you, Yaz.  But my wife is happy and satisfied. And then some. We make things work. If we didn't, we wouldn't have four kids.”

“And one on the way,” Yaz points out.  “Another spawn of yours let loose on the world. I appreciate your hard work when it comes to populating the world, but the last thing we need is another one of you. One Tyler Rake is enough.  Now there's going to be five? This world does not stand a chance. This gonna be the last one? For the good of humanity?”

“Definitely the last one,” he says, and shrugs out of his hoodie, grimacing at the pain in his shoulder.

“Those guys fucked you up pretty good,” Yaz observes. “You alright?”

“I've had worse,” he shrugs, and removes a bottle of pills from one of the sweater pockets before tossing it on the back the chair, sitting down with a grunt.

“You look like shit.”

“I feel like shit,” Tyler admits, and twisting the top off the bottle of pills, dumps two in his mouth and swallows them down with hot coffee.  

“Not sleeping again?”

He shakes his head.

“Back on the Valium, huh? Thought you weren't going to take it anymore? Thought you didn't like the way it makes you feel.”

“Better than the way it makes me feel when I'm off it. And I told my wife I'd get back on them, so...” he shrugs. “She doesn't like who I am when I'm not taking them.”

“You have been a little...” Yaz choose his words carefully.  “...on edge.”

“I think that's more to do with this prick...” he nods at McMann. “...then not taking meds.”

“I'm not just talking about that. About this job. I'm talking in general. You haven't been yourself. You've been a  prick for the most part. Like you're ready to just tear someone apart if you think they're looking at you in the wrong way. I get the stress and the worrying about the kids and now your wife's pregnant and you got that on your plate. But for you to decide to do something like this? That isn't you, Tyler. You're the one that had to talk Esme out of getting her revenge on the kid who nearly killed you. And now you're doing this? You drugged somebody. You kidnapped him. You're going to torture him. Shit like that? That's not you.”

“I warned him. That if he fucked with my family...”

“Your family is safe. Nothing happened. You were able to stop that. I get that he needs to pay. But handing him over to the IRA should be enough, don't you think?  You shouldn't need to do this. You shouldn't want to do this.”

Tyler's eyes narrow. “I thought you were on my side. You said you'd help me.”

“And I have. Helped you. But this is getting out of hand. This is far beyond what I'm comfortable with.  Just hand him over and call it a day. Wash your hands of him and that's it. Go home, Tyler.  Go home and get your kids. Spend time with your family. Forget about this shit. If you walk away now, no extra harm has been done. Your hands are still clean. Your conscience is still clean.”

He frowns. “You've been talking to that prick Mark, haven't you.”

“I don't like the guy anymore than you do, okay? But he has a point. This is going to mess with your head. This is going to fuck you up and you're going to change, man. You're own wife and kids won't even recognize you anymore. Is that what you want? You want to loose them? Because that's what's going to happen. Whether you lose them because you go through with this and try to keep it a secret, or because you become someone else. And I know that's not what you want.”

“Of course that's not what I want. But...”

“So get your ass on the next plane and go home.  Take your wife, go home and get your kids, and live a normal life. You deserve that. Aren't you tired of this? This bullshit? The constant travelling? The danger? The blood? The killing? Putting your ass on the line for people who don't even appreciate it? I know the money is good. But when does it become less about the money and more about keeping yourself  alive for your kids?”

“Don't do that, Yaz. Use my kids against me. That's a bitch move and you know it.”

“You're a dad, Tyler. They depend on you. They need you. Where have you been for most of their lives? Can you sit back and say that you've been around more than you've been away? That you've made the best of your time with them in the past five and a half years? Because if you can, you're a fucking liar. You've been away more than you've been with them. And I'm sorry if that's a huge kick in the nuts hearing that, but it's the truth.  They deserve better than that, man.  They deserve to have memories of you being there, not memories of their mom single handily  trying to hold everything together. Your responsibility didn't stop when you helped make them, you know.”

He sighs heavily, runs his hands over his weary face.

“I'm saying all this because you're my boy. Because I care about what happens to you. This life...being a husband...being a dad...this is the life you never thought you'd have.  You shouldn't even be here. Everything says that you never should have made it alive out of Dhaka, And you did.  You were given a second chance at life and this is what you do with it? You piss away the chance to have a good life? A relatively normal life? Why? For what? For an asshole like him!” Yaz jerks his thumb over his shoulder at McMann.

“He fucked up. And he needs to pay the price. And maybe you'd understand that if you had a family to loose.”

“You're not going to have your own family if you do this. You stand to lose everything.  Your wife, your kids. Don't do that to yourself. And most importantly don't do that to them. Don't do that to Esme. She's stuck by you through even the hardest shit. All those times she probably should have told you to fuck off and stay away. But she always gave you another chance. And this is how you repay her? By pushing her away? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Can we not talk about this? Because no matter what you say, I'm going through with this. This is what he deserves. And if I lose everything because of it...”

“You're actually willing to lose your entire life because of him? Just hand him over to the IRA and wash your hands of him. They'll punish him enough. You don't need to do it.”

“Yeah, Yaz. I do. And I get that you don't understand why and if you want to walk away...”

“I'm not letting you do this alone. Fuck that. I don't trust Mark or his two flying monkeys. But if I can't talk you out of it, maybe Nik can. She's flying in this morning. And she's pissed as hell.  She's going to come for your balls; just a heads up.”

“This has nothing to do with her. She can stay the fuck out of it. She's only sticking her nose in it because of Mark.”

“I agree he's a little weasel and she's way too good for him, but she's worried about you. We all are.”

“There's nothing to worry about. I'm fine. And I'll be fine.”

Yaz stares at him pointedly.  

“I'll be fine,” he repeats, hoping he sounds more convincing to other ears than he does to his own.

*****

It's seven am by the time McMann begins to stir. Mumbling incoherently from underneath the hood, soles of his feet scraping against the cement as he attempts to move his legs, muscles straining slightly as he tries to fight the zip ties binding his hands together.  Tyler watches him; leaning back in his own chair, hands clasped behind his head, his feet propped up on the cooler sitting on the floor in front of him. And it isn't until the other man begins to struggle in earnest that he moves; taking his feet off the cooler and popping open the lid, taking out one of the ice cold bottles of water before shutting the lid.

“Time to wake up,” he says, as he approaches McMann.  “Time to get this shit started,” he yanks the hood off the restrained man's head and tosses it into the corner.  “Hey...wake up....” he grabs a hold of McMann's chin, vigorously shaking his head from side to side. “...time to wake up, asshole. Time to reap what you sow, mate.”

McMann pulls his head back, then makes a noise in the back of his throat as gathers up saliva.

Tyler wraps his hand around the man's throat, fingers digging into the flesh. “Don't even fucking think about it. 'Cause I'll break your goddamn neck and then I'll be pissed because  you ruined all my fun. Swallow.”

McMann shakes his head.

“Swallow. Now.”

Another refusal.

“Why do you have to make this so hard on yourself? Why do you have to make me work even harder?”  he uses his teeth to uncap the bottle of water, then spits the lid across the room and moves his hand from McMann's throat to underneath his chin. Roughly forcing his head back and painfully pressing  his thumb and forefinger  into the other man's cheeks, effectively forcing his jaw open.   “You gonna swallow or are we going to do this the hard way?”

McMann stares up at him, eyes defiant.

Tyler smirks, then shoves the opening of the bottle into other man's move, pouring out the ice cold liquid as quick as possible, until it's pouring out the corners of his mouth and trickling down his cheek and McMann begins to cough and sputter; fighting helplessly against his restraints.   “Wasn't so hard was it?” Tyler tosses the empty bottle into the corner.  “Try that again and I won't go so easy on you. I will snap your windpipe, understand me?”

McMann doesn't respond.

“Understand me?” Tyler snarls, and yanks the man's head back by his hair. “Fucking answer me when I ask you a question.”

McMann nods. “I understand.”

“Good,” Tyler releases his grip on the other man's hair, then wanders over to the table where all the weapons are other tools are being held. Selecting one of the box cutters before grabbing one of the plastic chairs and placing it in front of McMann. “You and are I going to have a little chat.  About a few things.  You remember that conversation we had on the plane? About what would happen to you if I found out this was all a game? If it turned out you were playing me? You remember that, right?”

“I remember.”

“I told you that I come for you.  That if you were fucking me over, you'd regret it. So...”  he sits down in the chair, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “...here we are. Just the two of us. And that table over there...” he nods in the direction of the stash of weapons. “....see that? All those things are for you, Michael. Can you I call you Michael?” he smirks. “Of course I can. First name basis, yeah? I think we're close enough for that now, don't you?”

He nods.

“To be honest, mate, I really don't give a shit that you tried to kill me. Twice. I've had a lot of people try to kill me. One of them almost succeeded five and a half years ago. See this...”  he taps the end of the box cutter against the scar on the left side of his neck.  “...a kid did that. A fucking teenager. He managed to get me closer to death than I've ever been. How does that make you feel? Knowing you fucked up...twice...but a kid nearly managed to kill me?”

McMann remains silent.

“You don't feel much like talking, huh? That's okay. I have a lot I need to say. And I've got ways of making you talk.  So...” he pushes down on the release button on the box cutter; every snap as the blade pushes out echoing in the room. “....what I'm really upset about is that you showed up where I live. Not just where I live, but where my wife lives. Where my kids live.  Because I don't care about myself nearly as much as I care about them. You could have just cut your losses after you fucked up in Guatemala, but you didn't. You had the goddamn nerve to come to Colorado and watch me. Watch my family. You were in that ice cream shop that day. Ten feet away from daughter. Ten feet away from my sons. That was a bad move, mate. A very bad move.”

“I did what I had to do,” McMann finally speaks. “What I was paid to do.”

“Something tells me you weren't being paid to stalk my kids. Maybe me. But not my kids. Whatever told you that was a good idea? Everything that you've heard about me. Everything you obviously saw me do in Guatemala. What the hell ever told you it was a good idea to near my kids?”

“Money. It was all about the money.”

“Now normally I'd agree with you. Because I've done some questionable things to questionable people for money. Good money.  But I've never, ever gone after kids. Unless I was saving them.  So here lies the problem, mate. My kids are safe. Your people will never get to them. There's some pretty powerful people I've made friends with and they won't think about twice about killing whoever you got working with you. And your kids are still out there. Now I could say fuck it and just go home and keep letting you use your own kids.  But we both know I'd never be able to live with myself if I did that. So I'm going to make this easy on you. You tell me where your kids are, and maybe, just maybe, I won't hurt you nearly as much as I plan to.”

“I'll never tell you where they are. And you'll never find them on your own.”

“Oh you'll tell me. Eventually.  Because I've got a lot of tricks up my sleeve to get you to talk. But first things first...”  he stands up, using his foot to move the chair out of the way.  “...out of sheer curiosity, just what were you planning on doing to my kids? Because I'd like to hear it. I'd like you to tell me what you had in mind. So I can judge just how bad I make things for you.”

“Nothing. We weren't planning on doing anything to your kids. We were just going to grab them and hold onto them for a while.”

“You said nothing but that's something, innit?”  Tyler moves behind the chair McMann is restrained in, and he holds the box cutter close to the man's ear, repeatedly opening and closing the blade. “Grabbing them is something.  Michael....I don't think you want to be fucking with me right now.  You're not in the position to be fucking with anybody.  See, I know guys like you. A lot of guys like you actually. I've had to get people away from guys like you. I'm going to ask you again. I'm going to give you a chance to tell me the truth.  What were you planning on doing to my kids?”

“I wasn't planning on doing anything to them.”

“Aww mate...come on...” Tyler chuckles.  “...maybe you weren't personally planning on doing something, but the people you have working for you were. You're the one who told them what to do right? You're the one who planned it, yeah?”

McMann refuses to respond.

“I asked you a fucking question,”  Tyler snags him by the hair once more, yanking his head back with enough force to crack his neck. “You're the one who planned things?”

He swallows noisily and nods.

“What did you tell them to do to my kids?”

“I told them to kill the big one if they had to. The Indian kid.  I knew he'd fight. I knew he wouldn't let the little ones go easily. So I told them to kill him. And his girlfriend. That way we could just get your kids without any problems.”

“First of all, his name isn't 'Indian Kid'. His name is Ovi. And he's got more balls in his little finger than you have in your entire body. Second, I'm proud of you. For not pissing me off enough to take an ear off.  I'm going to ask you again. What were you planning on doing to my kids?”

“I'm not saying anything else. I'm not saying shit.  You don't have the balls to go through with this. You just want to scare me into giving you what you want.”

“Mate, do you really want to test me right now? Do you really want to see if I have balls or not? Because I'm all out of patience here. I'm all out of fucks, like my wife would say.  So...” he tightens his grip on McMann's hair, yanking his head to the side and then pressing the tip of the box cutter blade into the skin below his ear. Enough to break the surface; a trickle of blood appearing. “...I'm going to ask you on more time. What were you going to do to my kids?”

McMann refuses to answer.

Tyler presses down harder; feeling the blade dig into the man's neck, his free hand still gripping McMann's hair. Using enough force to draw even more blood, feeling it drip down the box cutter and onto his own fingers; hot, smooth, the smell tangy and pungent. And it only encourages him even more. Kicking his adrenaline up another notch. And he slowly drags the blade along McMann's next, prolonging the pain, until the other man is screaming in pain and attempting to get away. Kicking his bound feet, trying to break the ties around his wrist, struggling to get away.

“Okay! Okay!”  McMann finally relents.  “I'll tell. I'll fucking tell you.”

“Now that wasn't too bad, was it?” Tyler asks, and cleans both his fingers and the box cutter off on the front of McMann's shirt.  “You live to see another day. For now. So, tell me...” he uses his forearm to clear sweat off his brow, then walks over to the cooler and grabs a bottle of water; tearing off the cap and downing half of it before returning to his chair.  “...what did you tell them to do?”

“They were going to grab them. After they killed the big one and his girlfriend.  They were going to hold them somewhere. Like I did with my kids. Everything was going to be the same. The duct tape, the zip ties, everything.  They were going to rough them up a bit...”

“You told your people...grown men...to beat on my kids?”  The fury is instant. All consuming.  “Is that what you're telling me? That you told adults to put hands on them? The oldest is five. The youngest is ten months. And you told people to beat on them?”

McMann nods,  tears sparkling in his eyes.

“Don't cry now, mate. Tears won't work on me. They aren't going to save you. And I know those tears aren't for my kids.  You told adults...men...to beat on my kids?”

“I just told you....”

“Now we have a real problem,” Tyler leans forward in his seat, elbows on his knees. “If you'd just said you told them to grab them and hold them somewhere, I wouldn't be as mad as I am right now. I could have probably kept it together when you mentioned the duct tape and zip ties. But you actually told people to put their hands on my kids. That...well that I can't forgive....so....”  he jumps to his feet, then heads back to the weapons table. “...I don't think a box cutter is going to quite cut it this time....this calls for something a little...I don't know...worse.”

He selects the crow bar, then decides against it and puts it back. Opting for the pliers instead.

“My daughter,” he says, as he walks back towards McMann. “Well I think you know what I'm going to ask you next. Did you tell them to do anything else to my daughter? Like what happened to that Erin girl? Did you tell any of them to do something like that to my little girl?”

“No. I'd never suggest something like that. I'm a lot of things, but I'd never, ever, allow that.”

“You're lucky I believe you, Michael.  You know Erin was a message? To me? Well I'm going to send a message to your people. To your wife.”

“What kind of message? What the hell are you doing with those? What...?”

“I want them to know that I have you. And that I'm going to keep sending little pieces of you until I get what I want. So...”  Tyler once more stands behind the metal chair. “...we can either do this the easy way or the hard way. Which one do you want?”

“What's the easy way?”

“Easy way is you just sit there and open your mouth for me and I take out a few of your teeth. With these,” he waves the pliers in McMann's face, and the man immediately reacts; panic and terror surging through him, screams and profanities flying out of his mouth as he struggles against his bonds.  “Hard way, huh?”

Tyler shrugs, then wraps an arm around McMann's throat; squeezing as hard as he can; muscles bulging, veins prominent. Stronger and bigger than the other man, easily able to hold his head still with such a powerful grip, and he shoves the pliers past the other man's teeth, until he's hitting the back molars and clamping down on one, yanking it clear out of the gum.  Tightening his hold when McMann fights even harder; choking and gagging on his own blood and saliva and the gradual collapsing on his windpipe.    Sweat forming on his own brow and trickling down his temples; dripping into his eyes as he removes two more teeth before gradually releasing the pressure on McMann's throat.

“You're fucking crazy,” McMann pants; his face near purple, a mixture of sweat, saliva, and blood trickling down his chin and onto his shirt. “Insane. You're fucking insane.”

“Maybe,” Tyler says, as he pockets the teeth and cleans the pliers off on the thigh of his jeans “But you fucked with the wrong man's family. And I'm going to make you pay. A little bit at a time. So get comfy. Because you're not going anywhere for a while.”

****

He stops at a gas station and uses their restroom; washing the blood, saliva, and spit off of his arms and hands. He changes his clothes, pulling on a fresh pair of jeans, clean t-shirt, and a pair of flip flops, and discarding the others in the trash can.  Esme hadn't been awake when he'd left that morning, so there would be no need to explain why he'd left in one outfit and returned in another.  He searches the cabinet under sink; locating an extra garbage bag and stashing the hoodie into it and his boots into it. Those things he can clean later.

He's back at the hotel before nine am. Finding Tanis once more sitting in the hallway with her back against the door, this time with a large, leather bound novel resting against her thighs.  They don't exchange words; barely a glance in each other's direction as she forcefully snaps the cover of the book closed and silently gets to her feet, stomping down the hall towards her own room.

The bed is empty; sheets rumpled, covers thrown back.  The sliding door that leads out onto the balcony is open, allowing fresh air into the room, and he can see her sitting in one of the chairs. Still in the clothes she'd worn to bed, with her back towards the room and the sunlight making that red hair dye sparkle and shimmer.  He moves quietly through the room; locking the garbage bag with the boots and the hoodie in it in the closest that he'd used to store the bag of weapons and ammunition.   In the bathroom he checks every inch of his forearms and hands for even the smallest remnants of blood; scrubbing his fingers with so much force he almost reopens the slowly healing wounds on his knuckles.

As he reaches for a towel, he catches sight of his reflection in the mirror. Noticing the deep creases in his brow, the darkness in his eyes, how tight his jaw is clenched. He'd been riding on pure adrenaline and rage back at the storage facility; yet fully aware of the things he was saying and doing. And while the former has passed, the latter lingers. Running on a slow boil right under the surface. Yet he feels nothing. No shame. No disgust. No remorse. His heart and his conscience as empty as the look in his eyes.

He slips his sunglasses back on before heading outside to join her. It's sunny out; she won't question him about leaving them on and he'll be able to hide that 'look' from her.  The emptiness.  She'd notice it right away; she was always talking about how all of his emotion and a lot of communication came from the eyes. There'd be no way of hiding something like that from her. She'd known as soon as she looked at him that something was wrong. That something very, very bad had gone down.

“Hey,” he greets, as he steps out onto the balcony.

She tips her head back to smile up at him, using her hand to shield her eyes from the sun. “Hi.”

He lays a hand on her back, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her lips.

“Where did you disappear to? I heard you leave really early and you're just getting back now?”

Fuck. He had been one hundred percent certain that she'd been fast asleep.

“Mark and the guys were having some issues with McMann. He needed someone to provide a little extra muscle.”

The lie rolls easily off his tongue. A little too easily.

“I bet McMann was thrilled to see you,” Esme scoffs. “You're his favourite person, after all.”

“Yeah,” he rubs at the back of his head and drops into the chair beside her. “I didn't make him too happy, that's for sure. You're actually eating,” he nods down at the plate of food in her lap; a wide assortment of fresh fruit.

“I don't know how much of it will stay down, but I've only puked twice this morning so far, so that's a good sign.”

He nods in agreement.

“Nik called when you were out. She said she couldn't get a hold of you on your cell or on the SAT.”

“Yeah, I blocked her. On both.”

Esme arches an eyebrow. “Why?”

“She annoys the shit out of me.  This isn't even her job anymore. It was never her job in the first place. She needs to stay the fuck out of things.”

“I'm actually kind of glad she can't get a hold of you. I'm kind of tired of always worrying about her motives when it comes to you.  I highly doubt every time she calls you or texts you, she has business in mind.”

“Let it go, Esme. There's nothing between Nik and I. There hasn't been in years. Since I met you.”

“You're not the problem. It's her. Like, go and find someone else's husband to lust over and pine over. One hat doesn't four kids and one on the way.”

“Just ignore her.  She's not a threat. I've told you that a million times. I'm not going to cheat.  She can ask me a million times and the answer is always going to be the same. So stop worrying so much about her.  Maybe she'll calm down now that she's seeing Mark. Or whatever the hell you want to call it.”

“Well she can have him. Good riddance to old rubbish.”

“What did she want?”

“She just said she'd be arriving around noon. And that you and her needed to talk. She didn't sound very happy with you.  What did you do?”

Tyler shrugs. “She's probably got some other job she wants me to do...”

“Yeah,” Esme snorts. “Like her.”

“...or she's pissed this one is taking so long.”

“Would you take it? If she offered another one?”

“I'm already on a job.”

“But if she could talk you into it. Would you abandon this one and take another one on?”

“No. Because I already told you that this was my last one. There's not going to be any other jobs. This is it. This is the end of the line. I promised you it would be, and I'm not going back on that promise,” he reaches out and lays a hand on the back of her neck, softly kneading the tense muscles. “We talked about this,” he gently reminds her.  “I told you that this is the last one.”

“You've said that before. A handful of times.”

“Well, I mean it this time.  I am tired of this life.  Just as much as you are.  It's time to move on. And I want us to do that together, not apart.”

She smiles at that, and he leans sideways in his chair to press a kiss to her temple.

He reaches for her hand, lacing his fingers with hers, bringing them up to his lips and kissing the inside of her wrist.

“We're going to be okay,” he says, finally feeling optimistic.  “I promise.”