#and all i keep getting are Corpse Flowers as a result the ones that smell like corpses instead of hiding corpse smell

[throwaway-yandere]

anon’s got nothing to worry about: it’s actually sussy ayaka’s cat form triggering the allergies so if she finally caves or sussy ayato gets rid of her then his human imposter form shouldn’t be triggering nothing, yes?

Yep yep :DD! When Ayato's in human form it shouldn't be triggering! I haven't gotten much information on how nekomatas/bakenekos' shapeshifting works since they seem to be varied. I've read that bakenekos take the form of their masters... And I twisted that by giving the interpretation that these yokais have to eat their masters to gain their skin. (Imagine venti, but cannibal venti i guess–)

For this fic, it's mostly ayaka who causes the allergic reactions. Since ayato takes care of her, her allergens often rub off his clothes. She couldn't transform into a human (yet.) So yeah, Ayato could either get rid of her (he may be a yandere, but I don't think he would ever dream about killing his sister) or forc– persuade her to eat human meat.

Tbh, the fic was supposed to be the both of them as peaceful bakenekos but I went "why not eat humans too? Let's have ayato eat his rivals." lmao. I had Ayato as a nekomata and Ayaka as a bakeneko because based off yokai.com:

"Nekomata are found in cities and villages and are born in the same way as other bakeneko. However, only the oldest, largest cats with the longest tails—and thus the most intelligence—become this powerful variety."

Tl;dr: Ayato went "I REJECT MY YOKAI IDENTITY, (Y/N)!!!" and it's mostly ayaka who's causing the allergic reactions since she's still a cat

[kelliealtogether]

I'm deep in the Bloom feels 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 🌱 🪴 Do you have any more info about them in this AU?

Hi anon,

You're in luck! This is the AU I think about every night when I'm trying to fall asleep, so there. is. a. lot. Pull up a chair, because this is gonna get long.

At the end of Grow, it's decided Ronan's moving to DC, but full-time cohabitation in a one-bedroom condo is an adjustment. There are many arguments over not replacing empty toothpaste, dwindling space because of Adam's habit of rescuing half-dead plants people left out with their trash, and the fair and equitable splitting of bills. But there's nothing Adam likes more than waking up every morning with his arm trapped and numb beneath Ronan because Ronan slept on it all night.

On Adam's fortieth birthday, they go out to dinner with Gansey and Blue, and on the drive home (Adam's driving the BMW, the only present he'd accept from Ronan) when they're stopped at a red light, Ronan takes Adam's hand, turns it over, and puts a ring in Adam's palm. Adam puts it on and keeps driving when the light turns green. They have a small little thing at the Barns a few weeks later.

They do move to a house, because you can't really raise a kid in a one-bedroom condo and Ronan kind of hates the landlord where he's renting space for his woodshop, so he wants a basement/garage where he can work. Finding a house is a whole thing (because have you seen house prices recently?), and Adam goes into "finance spirals" (as Ronan calls them) while he's doing everyday tasks, which result in the kitchen sink overflowing while he's washing dishes and burnt scrambled eggs while he's making Saturday morning breakfast. Ronan just turns the sink off/turns the stove off, takes Adam's face in his hands, and says, "We will be fine," until Adam believes it. They eventually find something in their price range in Northwest DC, because Ronan's mantra throughout their house hunt was, "I am not moving to Maryland."

When they turn their attention to acquiring a child, Adam's already prepared with legal contacts, paperwork on what his benefits from work cover, and details on every different type of adoption. The latter goes out the window when Ronan says, "I want them to be a Lynch." They find a surrogate and an egg donor, and, after nine months of Adam and Ronan being equally both excited and terrified, Maeve Parrish-Lynch arrives with a Lynch's blue eyes and curls, except her hair is brilliantly and shockingly orange. Ronan holds her first and cries, and Adam takes a lot of photos he'll never share with anyone.

Then there's a lot of them being girl dads as Maeve grows up, and Adam being an awkward (at first) and adoring parent, the exact opposite of what he feared he'd be. They go to story time at the library. They hunt for caterpillars on walks around the neighborhood and sometimes make homes for them in old tupperware so Maeve can see the caterpillar make a chrysalis, then they go out in their tiny yard and let the butterfly go once it emerges. They build paper mache volcanoes and make them explode with red food coloring, baking soda, and vinegar. (They do a lot of messy arts and crafts and Adam and Ronan probably have more fun than Maeve.) They get a cat (named Chainsaw, of course) when Maeve asks for one, and she and Chainsaw become thick as thieves. And (this is the first scene that came to be outside the bounds of the fics in the series) they take Maeve to see a blooming corpse flower at the USBG conservatory, and when Adam picks her up to take a whiff of it, she pinches her nose and says, "Ew, daddy," then she looks at Ronan and says, "Smell that."

That's probably far, far more than you were looking for, anon, but this AU lives rent free in my head all day, every day. I love it so much.

[flydotnet]

Bad Things Happen Bingo! The event where you send me requests according to this marvelous card!

(Red cross is the completed prompt, character headshots are prompts I’ve already filled. I don’t have any request left, so feel free to send in suggestions for this card!).

But I will be fine. I must be.

Unofficial Gay Fates has made me super partial to both Scarlet and ships with Scarlet. I'm a Ryoma/Scarlet girly too, but also, the Scarlet-Xander support chain was too good for me not to get into the trenches and write something for it too. I may've read the official Scarlet/Chevois lore doc a little too many times compared to how faithful to UGF my Scarlet ended up being? Oh well. You never get anywhere if you never try! I don't like how Revelation handled... well, most things, and the thing with Valla is stoopid as it's written there, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy playing with a zombie country of sort. There's a kind of horror to it and I had to set a mood y'know?the number of times I had "Deessu. Kurimuzon." in my head while writing this fic is obscenely high.

-----

Bride of Crimson

Summary: Guilt will come later - for now, Scarlet needs to escort a prince to safety.

Fandom: Fire Emblem Fates (Revelation route) Ship: Pre-S-Support Scarlet/Xander

Wordcount: words

Event hosted by @badthingshappenbingo

AO3 version.

------

Vallites don’t bleed.

That’s because they don’t have a soul anymore, Scarlet has been told. They’re corpses haunted by the mindless desire to do something. Ryo has compared them to a lizard’s tail once cut from its body, trembling as if alive yet dead all the same; and she didn’t really question it. If Ryo believed Corrin, then she had no reason to suspect anything either: Ryo knew what he was doing, then why would she go against him? As far as she was concerned, nothing had contradicted what his sister had said.

 Vallites don’t bleed, which makes it oh so much more noticeable when it’s her comrades who do. It smears on the fluorescent grass of Valla and it smells like iron – not the sort that results from weapons clashing against each other, but that which has kept her on alert for so long, back in Cheve. It looks out of place right when she thought she had finally gotten used to bloodshed.

Scarlet has been through worse, though. It takes a special kind of guts to rise against a kingdom so much bigger than your country, whose nobles seem so adamant to hurt people they can’t see while they laze around and live in luxury (and someone may’ve helped with her perception of that, but one man can’t change an entire life experience of conclusions), but it’s this special kind that’s now allowing her to cut through ghosts that play pretend with everyone’s emotions and distress alike.

 A strong, belting voice screams from behind her, prompting her to briefly turn around.

“Scarlet, look out!”

She barely has the time to crouch before a sword dark as the night pierces through a Faceless’ chest. If the voice wasn’t a giveaway, then the weapon alone would be a dead seller for the ages.

“Xander?!”

He walks his horse to her, Siegfried still in hand. (A beautiful weapon, if sinister… and plain. Unfortunately, her offer to spruce it up has already been turned down).

“Are you hurt?”

“No, no I’m not, in no small part thanks to ya.” She shines him a smile.

“Very well,” he replies with stiff shoulders and a smirk just as uncomfortable to look at. “Where’s your wyvern?”

“Errrh… Vaida got injured earlier, so I’m lettin’ her a nice rest back at camp! Can’t let my ride get worse under my watch!”

“I see. I trust you can handle yourself on your own, right?”

“Of course! Dun take me for a fragile lil’ flower, Dandy-Lion!”

He blushes like a tulip at the remark, “p-please keep this silly nickname off the—”

Xander stops dead in his tracks, eyes opening wide.

“Dan…”

“Get down!”

 A hand axe cuts through the air, flirting so close to her pauldron that it tears it off from her, taking it in its course.

 Once the initial shock passes, she clutches her own axe to her and swings it at the culprit – some Vallite soldier with empty sockets for eyes, in a vague human shape, glaring at her with an expression just as soulless. Yep, no sympathy to be found here.

She slashes it in a single blow and doesn’t bother with delicacy, almost cutting the creature in two clean halves, looking around just enough to tell Ryo and his little brother have taken care of their left flank and Corrin and company the right one. The battle’s almost over, so she gets back up, straps her axe back onto her. She’ll polish it once they have downtime again.

 With an excited step, Scarlet turns around again.

“Good job spotting that, Dandy…”

A black horse is staring back at her with a nervous breath.

“…Lion…?”

It happens to have no rider.

 Urgency hurries through Scarlet’s every fibre, until she finally thinks about checking the ground. When she does, her jaw almost drops, but she clenches her teeth and runs to a crumpled body on the ground. Ignoring every feature, she puts her hand in front of the person’s nose and two fingers on their neck – air, a pulse, a groan of pain.

Good, he’s still alive (she doesn’t quite know what she’d have done if he hadn’t been). Now, for how long, she doesn’t know, and she doesn’t wish to find out. Time to bring him to safety and have someone who knows their way around with a staff do their magic.

 As delicately as she can, she picks Xander up in her arms as if carrying a bride. The irony isn’t lost on her, as removed as it is from the situation: she renounced to getting wed when she picked up a banner and threw her life into fighting for her land, yet there she is, carrying him like she’d have expected to be, when she was a little girl and she was allowed to dream.

Oh, but that was so long ago, she doesn’t know what she’s thinking about it. It’s not like she’d have looked as limp as Xander is right now, breathing almost impossible to see with how small the movement of his chest is. His skin is pale, the rings under his eyes darker than Siegfried, his limbs limp and fingers loose. In ways, she’s carrying a shadow, in others, a statue. In either case, her fingers feel like they could break something.

 Drops dripple down her shoes as she walks. The colour of her armour makes it hard to tell what it is, but the smell of iron never mistakes her. Xander’s would make it just as difficult, but whatever slashed him pierced through what was where, leaving skin and muscle naked for all to see and blood – a river of it, in fact, trailing behind them, and she wishes she could run.

The battlefield seems bigger than it was before and how does she regret not having Vaida by her side right about now. Xander’s horse can’t help them now, not with the sort of injury he has. For all she knows, it’d just make the blood loss happen faster – and gods, he’s already pale as is. Come to think of it, maybe his pallor never reminded her of the sheltered life she imagined the Nohr royals to have…

 A feeble voice calls her back to the sound of her footsteps crunching dying grass.

“Scar…”

“Keep your strength to yourself… Dandy-Lion.”

To her surprise, she sees him smile – one as delicate as his breath. It’s good enough, she thinks.

“I’m not too heavy, am I…?”

On second thought…

“You’re lighter than I expected, honestly.” She snickers. “Heh, if I had been told the High Prince of Nohr would worry about that on his deathbed, I wouldn’t have believed it, yet here we are!”

She hopes that, if he can focus on something else…

“I can’t be too worried if it’s you, can I…?”

Her face burns.

“What’s that s’pposed to mean?!” She snorts and chuckles. “Don’t make me laugh like that, there may still be enemies ‘round!”

Huh, his smile is loopy…

“Your presence… is reassuring…”

…and his cough isn’t getting better.

“What the…”

There is a thin trail of blood going down his lips and chin. Oh no.

“Scarlet, you’re…”

The good thing to do would be to make him spare his energy, but… despite it all, his voice…

“Shut up, I’m bringing you to a healer! You can tell me all ’bout it later!”

 She quickens her pace, despite the soreness in her legs and the way carrying someone tugs at her arms. Her pains are a minor thing compared to the man bleeding to death drop by drop in her embrace; and yes, she can’t call it anything else. Not when he calls her presence reassuring, not when she sees the way he makes her feel.

She clutches him closer to her, letting rust dripple down her breastplate, uncaring for any sort of aesthetic. Of course, this is a battlefield, and there’ll never be enough gemstones to make death and blood beautiful… but this is different, Scarlet finds. Everything around her is crimson, now, from the air she breathes to the skin she feels under soaked cloth.

If she could, she’d leave a peck on the forehead of a man who’s absolutely making it out of here.

 The rest of the road back to camp is long and silent. Xander’s breathing is a fragile thing, or so it feels, and he doesn’t rouse back to wakefulness. She regrets telling him to shut it, now, but if it’s so he can get some rest… then so be it.

She wonders what the scar she’s left him looks like – half out of pride, half out of shame… and a little bit of general curiosity. It’s impossible for her to tell what part of his silhouette is armour and what isn’t, sometimes, and she blames it on being starstruck.

…oh, she never even thought of Ryoma like that.

 The camp is now in view, with its white smoke and warm banners.

“Hey, Dandy-Lion…”

“Hmm…?”

“Is there someone you’re coming back to once this war’s over?”

He spits out some blood on the side. It’d have disgusted many, she supposes, but she appreciates the eternal reminder that, for all of his royal-ness, Dandy-Lion’s still a mortal at the end of the day. Makes him more approachable, more… lovable? (Oh gods).

“You mean… as a spouse…?”

“Yeah. So?”

“No… I cannot see myself take a wife… and neglect her as my father has…”

“You’re not your dad, ya big doofus. Pretty sure we’ve gone over that already.”

She isn’t quite sure what she expected he’d reply.

“Has someone… ever told you your honesty was refreshing…?”

She chuckles. For all of his princely ways, he isn’t above being embarrassingly adorable.

“Yes, you, that other time.”

“And you…?”

“Yeah?”

“Is someone… waiting for you back in Cheve…?”

She chuckles. Had the man she’s carrying in her arms the High Prince of Nohr, she’d have seen a reciprocal response there.

“Not in that way, no.”

“I see…”

His head lulls against her breastplate.

“You’ll be okay, Dandy-Lion. Just ya wait.”

“Oh, I know, Scarlet, I know…”

 She quickens her pace one last time, heart jumping up and down.

Xander lifts his head, painfully slowly, grunting under his breath. Aww…

“The camp’s not far. You’ll be fine.” It’s a little hard to believe when you see him bleeding, white like a sheet and eyes foggy, but if she isn’t here to believe in his recovery, then who will? “Sorry, by the way. If I hadn’t lost focus…”

“Peace, Scarlet… An injury is better than a death…”

“That’s true…”

“Isn’t it funny?”

“What would be?”

“That this is the second time you’re carrying me to safety…”

“Does the first time count, when it was just fixing my own mistake?”

He coughs when he chuckles with her, but he’s still with her.

“I’d say so…”

“Then guess it counts!”

 She steps into camp and, as gently as she can, gives her charge to a worried Camilla of Nohr, who, not unlike her, can carry Xander without grunting (gods, what little firecracker said really holds water). The horse, who she abandoned without meaning to, follows Camilla inside the camp, as diligently as it behaved when it was mounted.

Speaking of mounts, she’s missed Vaida very much. Maybe she can pay a visit to Dandy-Lion later, once she’s had a good conversation with her trusted wyvern about what to do when you seem to have a thing for the crown prince of the kingdom you’ve spent most of your life fighting against… oh, and once Dandy-Lion isn’t covered in crimson anymore. It’s not because beauty is never truly tarnished that she doesn’t want to see him soaked in his own blood.

She should start with cleaning her armour and weapons, actually… Blood doesn’t suit them either.

 It suits nobody, really.

[gusu-emilu]

sometimes I forget (3/3)

chapter three: I only want to be a relief

Ship: Jiang Cheng / Wen Ning

Summary: Wen Ning and Jiang Cheng travel to Dafan Mountain to find the cure to Lan Wangji’s fever. Their animosity results in a very strained partnership, which only becomes more complicated when Jiang Cheng develops the fever too. But along the way, they address the scars that haunt them and find something new in each other.

<< Ch. 1 | < Ch. 2 | Bonus | Art

Post-Canon, Rated T - read on AO3 or on Tumblr below

“You have to take it.” Wondering if he should even give two doses of medicine, Wen Ning placed a hand on Jiang Cheng’s forehead to feel his temperature.

A look of raw pleasure appeared on Jiang Cheng’s face.

Wen Ning jerked his hand away.

Wen Ning stood still for a few moments, unblinking. The memorial in front of him loomed a bit larger, while Jiang Cheng’s hand in his own seemed to shrink.

You’re a good person, too, he wanted to say back. Maybe because he believed it. Maybe because it would simplify his thoughts if he could label this man as good or bad, instead of searching for a name with actual meaning. Or maybe just because it would be cruel to answer with silence.

But in the end, silence was all he returned.

Jiang Cheng’s hand shrank a little more.

He thought of how Jiang Cheng had been furious seeing Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji visit the shrine of Jiang Fengmian and Madam Yu in Lotus Pier, had lashed out at them. Jiang Cheng’s anger had been unjustified, built on a lie, but now Wen Ning could understand it.

If Jiang Cheng really was a good person, that was a thought Wen Ning could grapple with on his own.

It meant something else to say it out loud in these burial grounds, in front of the memorial of his family.

And what about himself? How could Wen Ning accept these words from Jiang Cheng after leaving Jin Ling an orphan, and failing to save Wei Wuxian from his own self-destruction? What position were they in to call each other good or bad, or anything at all?

“Doesn’t matter,” Wen Ning found himself saying, after such a long time that they should’ve forgotten what they were talking about. At some point their hands had separated.

“No,” Jiang Cheng said, his voice trailing off. “It doesn’t.”

* * *

They sat in the goddess’s cave, waiting for nightfall. The sun had lowered in the sky, but it would be many hours until they could harvest the Ever-Frozen Flower’s nectar.

Jiang Cheng had been surprisingly quiet. He was leaning against the stone wall and toying with Zidian with weak fingers, struggling to make a spark, curling his lips every time he failed. While he sulked in between attempts, his eyes rested softly on the medicine Wen Ning was preparing.

Too quiet.

He must’ve run out of things to criticize, Wen Ning thought.

But he couldn’t deny that the space between them felt different. Since summoning the goddess, Jiang Cheng’s combativeness had faded, and a solemnity had slipped between his feverish tremors.

Was the flu affecting his emotions, or had his behavior changed for another reason?

“Jiang Wanyin,” Wen Ning said as he handed over the medicine, as well as a small basin of water and a wet cloth for Jiang Cheng to cool himself with.

Water dribbled down from the cloth as Jiang Cheng massaged it into his forehead. “What?”

“Who told you where to find the cure?”

The cloth paused, covering one side of his face. “The goddess.” He rubbed the cloth on his neck, a little harder than before. “Who else?”

“That’s not what it seemed like.”

“Well, it was.” He swallowed the medicine, then shuddered at whatever foulness it must’ve tasted like.

Quiet but stern, Wen Ning said, “We’re working on this together, you know.”

Jiang Cheng met his eyes, then looked away and dunked the cloth in the basin of water. “I know.”

Wen Ning still felt like he was hiding something, but decided to drop it. If it were important, it would come up again. Several miraculous hours had passed since their shouting match, and Wen Ning wasn’t eager to provoke another one.

Besides, Jiang Cheng of all people should’ve known the dangers of keeping secrets.

Now that the last dose of medicine was gone, Wen Ning stood. “I’ll go to the village at the bottom of the mountain and buy some more. It won’t be as good as my clan’s, but it’ll still help.”

“Don’t bother,” Jiang Cheng said. “I’ll last.”

“We’ll be here for a while. There’s no cold spring to stifle the fever like Lan Wangji has at the Cloud Recesses. You need medicine.”

“I said, don’t bother.”

“I won’t be long.” Wen Ning headed toward the mouth of the cave.

“Didn’t you hear me?”

“What’s wrong?” Wen Ning turned around, irritated. “Why don’t you want to feel better?”

Jiang Cheng scowled. He tried to sit up taller, like he needed a better angle to yell at Wen Ning, but he just sank back into a slump. “Maybe I don’t think you should leave!”

Suddenly he looked small. His violet clan leader robes, the silver snake of Zidian, the sweat dripping down his brow, the pink flush in his cheeks. It all seemed to swallow him.

For the first time, Wen Ning realized that Jiang Cheng might have been scared. He was used to wielding power and prowess. Now he could barely hold himself upright. He couldn’t even make Zidian crackle.

If the cure didn’t work, in two sunsets time Lan Wangji—the spouse of another of his siblings—would die. And so would Jiang Cheng. Or, if he was fortunate, he’d lose his cultivation abilities, for the second time in his life.

He wants me to keep him company.

Now that Wen Ning knew, he wasn’t surprised. He just hadn’t expected Jiang Cheng to reveal it.

Something about the knowledge was…ironic.

Invigorating, even, if he ignored the possibility that the cure might fail.

“I’m going to get more medicine,” Wen Ning said.

“Stop doing things for me.”

“Whether I leave or not, isn’t that doing something for you either way?” Wen Ning smiled slightly. He wasn’t sure why, but this whole situation was starting to amuse him. Maybe they had been in this cave for too long.

“After that, I won’t leave Jiang-zongzhu all by himself again.”

“You—” Jiang Cheng’s eyes widened. He looked as embarrassed as Wen Ning had expected, and it sent a rush of satisfaction through him.

“Fine,” Jiang Cheng spat. “At least go to a bigger town than that backwater village, and buy better medicine.”

“I’ll go wherever I want.”

“Tch. Good.” Jiang Cheng crossed his arms, but it must’ve taken too much effort to hold them there, because he let them fall limp at his sides again. He flushed redder. “Please, take your time,” he said sarcastically.

“I will.”

Whatever strange exchange was happening right now, Wen Ning was enjoying it. He needed something to distract him from the grief he felt at the memorial, from the growing feeling of uncertainty about whether they’d find the ice-flower once night fell.

Watching Jiang Cheng try to hold together his crumbling dignity was an unexpected solution.

“Well? Are you going or not?”

Wen Ning nodded. “I’m going.” He strolled toward the mouth of the cave, an unusual spring in his step. “I’m just taking my time.”

* * *

On his way back from buying medicine, he searched through the western forest of Dafan Mountain to find the Ever-Frozen Flower. As he expected, there were only common weeds and wildflowers. Perhaps the ice flower was not visible until the coldest point of the night when it bloomed.

He hoped the flower would really be there.

Finally, night blanketed the mountain, and the goddess’s cave grew dark with somber shades of blue. Wen Ning and Jiang Cheng sat next to each other with their backs against the stone wall. Jiang Cheng was about to light a talisman.

“You d-don’t need to,” Wen Ning said. “You should sleep. I’m fine without light.”

The commonplace medicine from the village was not as effective as what Wen Ning had found on the mountain. This medicine was able to alleviate Jiang Cheng’s headache and soreness, but not the heat burning through his body.

Jiang Cheng had removed his outer robe to cool off. It hadn’t helped. At this rate, his hot breath was going to make the cave float into the sky like a paper lantern.

With a drowsy nod, Jiang Cheng fumbled with the talisman and tucked it back in his robes with shaking hands. His eyelids were heavy, but he didn’t look any closer to deciding to go to sleep.

“You really should rest. You were awake all day and the night before.”

After a long silence, Jiang Cheng adjusted his sweat-drenched robes and spoke, his voice weak and dry. “Do you sleep?”

“I’ll k-keep watch.”

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes. “Can you sleep?”

Wen Ning paused, surprised by the question. Outside of the slightly invasive remarks of the juniors, it had been a long time since anyone showed interest in what his life was like as a fierce corpse. Everyone was too uncomfortable with his existence to be curious about the details.

“I can,” Wen Ning said. “I don’t need to, though.”

Jiang Cheng shifted his posture. “…Is it any different?”

“Y-Yes, a little.” Wen Ning folded his hands in his lab, gently fiddling with his fingers. “I don’t dream anymore, and I don’t feel any different when I wake up.”

Jiang Cheng looked displeased by this answer. Or maybe he always looked like that. Wen Ning tried to smile and said, “You get used to it.”

Jiang Cheng scoffed. “Right. The way one gets used to anything.”

Despite how sharp his tone was, there was something fragile in his voice. Wen Ning wasn’t sure if they were talking about sleep anymore.

There was no reason for Wen Ning to keep talking, but there was also no reason to stop, so he continued. “At least there are other sensations for me to feel. I can eat and breathe, although I can’t taste or smell. But I can still see and hear the same as I used to.”

As he spoke, Jiang Cheng seemed to deflate next to him. He couldn’t tell if Jiang Cheng’s body was just relaxing or collapsing in on itself. He must’ve really needed sleep. Maybe if Wen Ning talked for long enough, he would drift off.

“Really, all I need is to see, hear, and move. Then I can spend time with people. I can see A-Yuan, and Wei Wuxian, and…” He almost said Jin Ling. That would’ve been a mistake.

The breathing beside him steadied. A sound of slumbering.

Guessing that Jiang Cheng was no longer listening, Wen Ning let his words flow without thinking. “I miss my sense of touch, though. I’d like to feel something softer when I pet Hanguang-Jun’s rabbits.” He sighed. “I used to like so many things. Folding clothes, rolling pebbles in my hands. Feeling the sun at full strength.”

He smiled an empty smile to himself. “I miss the feel of people. Sometimes A-Yuan hugs me. I know what it’s supposed to feel like, and it doesn’t feel like that.” He traced the palm of his hand with a finger. “It doesn’t feel like what it should to A-Yuan, either.”

His mind wandered to Wei Wuxian. Being resurrected in Mo Xuanyu’s body came with its own set of problems for Wei Wuxian, but at least he looked and felt alive to everyone around him. Was alive.

His voice darkened. “I’m sure it’s much better for Wei Wuxian to hug A-Yuan.”

“A-Yuan,” Jiang Cheng echoed.

Wen Ning flinched. Jiang Cheng really was listening.

But if he was honest, that was what he had wanted, wasn’t it?

Jiang Cheng worked his mouth for a few moments. “Lan Sizhui is the only thing left of your clan that you…need.” It sounded like a question.

Where did that come from? With a perplexed tilt of his head, Wen Ning said, “W-W-Well, yes, I think so.”

“Then I…I shouldn’t have said that.” Jiang Cheng’s voice was murky, his eyes downcast.

“Said what?”

There was no reply.

Sifting through his memories of the day, Wen Ning recalled standing the street of the village, the air filled with dust and Jiang Cheng’s scornful words. What kind of descendant doesn’t guard the relics of his own clan?

It had stung. It still stung. Wen Ning could defeat any opponent in battle, but he couldn’t save his clan. Couldn’t even recover their belongings from the village.

He didn’t want to, he realized.

The surname Wen had died with his clan, and he had no intention of restoring it.

That made him feel guiltier.

And what of Wen Qing? What was left of her? No one spoke her name anymore, not even to praise her skills as a doctor. There was no record of her talents and discoveries, for they were all wasted on Wen Ruohan, purposely forgotten by the world. And her breakthrough as the first surgeon to transfer a golden core—well, no one wanted to remember that, either.

They had no legacy. The only people still here to pray that the Dafan Wen found an afterlife were Wen Ning, A-Yuan, and Wei Wuxian. And maybe Lan Wangji.

Although, after visiting the memorial today…

Jiang Cheng would never earn a spot on that list. But the idea of him trying didn’t seem so bad.

Back in the dry yellow streets of Dafan village. A-Yuan is my clan now, Wen Ning had said. It had made Jiang Cheng fall silent, eaten up his disdain, forced him to retreat.

Jiang Cheng also knew what it was like to have nothing left but a child.

It was a pity that he did.

“Go to sleep,” Wen Ning murmured.

Jiang Cheng grunted and closed his eyes. This time he really did fall asleep.

* * *

When Jiang Cheng awakened, he began ripping off his clothes.

“Jiang Wanyin? What’s happening?”

He threw his inner robes to the ground and frantically tugged at his trousers. “I’m burning.” He choked on the words.

Wen Ning jumped up and carried over a basin of water. “Here, you should dri—”

Jiang Cheng dumped the water all over his body, then lost his grip on the basin and poured the rest at Wen Ning’s feet. He finished removing his trousers and sprawled out on the cave floor on his stomach, completely naked, using the wet rock to cool himself.

“I’m s-s-sorry,” Wen Ning said, trying not to look at Jiang Cheng’s bare body. “I prepared the medicine, but I didn’t want to wake you up to give it to you.”

Jiang Cheng flipped onto his back. His eyes were shut tight, and his skin glistened with sweat and the water he had spilled on himself. He spread his limbs farther apart, practically melting into the cave floor.

Wen Ning grabbed a vial of medicine. He knelt down alongside Jiang Cheng, fumbling with the vial’s lid. “Here, I’ll give you another dose now.”

Jiang Cheng opened his eyes, his gaze unfocused. “Tastes bad.” He sounded drunk.

“You have to take it.” Wondering if he should even give two doses of medicine, Wen Ning placed a hand on Jiang Cheng’s forehead to feel his temperature.

A look of raw pleasure appeared on Jiang Cheng’s face.

Wen Ning jerked his hand away.

The expression vanished. Something in Jiang Cheng’s hazy consciousness seemed to recognize that he’d behaved inappropriately, and his eyes darted away.

Wen Ning rested a hand on his forehead again. The look returned. Jiang Cheng’s shoulders relaxed, and his lips parted, a near-silent moan escaping from them.

Warmth.

Without telling himself to do so, Wen Ning slid his hand down to cradle the side of Jiang Cheng’s face. Jiang Cheng closed his eyes and turned into Wen Ning’s palm, until his lips were pressed against the edge of Wen Ning’s hand. He stared at Wen Ning through the corners of narrow eyes rich with pleasure.

Wen Ning almost melted.

No one had welcomed his touch so ardently before. Never like this.

He was a corpse. Even A-Yuan avoided his cold hands.

But Jiang Cheng was hungry for them.

And Jiang Cheng felt hot. So hot that even Wen Ning could enjoy the warmth with his muted senses.

Somehow, the fever did not make Jiang Cheng look sick. It gave him a strange, tortured beauty.

Wen Ning tore his hand away. “Y-You need to take medicine.” He reached for the vial.

“Doesn’t help,” Jiang Cheng groaned. He grabbed at Wen Ning’s hand, but missed.

Wen Ning paused. Slowly, he lowered his arm and let Jiang Cheng take his wrist, heat rushing up his arm all the way to his shoulder. Without breaking eye contact, Jiang Cheng guided Wen Ning’s hand to place it on his collarbone. Jiang Cheng’s chest swelled up and down with deep breaths.

“You’re so cold.” His words were slurred.

“D-Do you…like—”

“It feels good.”

Wen Ning felt dizzy. He pulled his hand away, and Jiang Cheng reached after him with weak arms that he could barely lift. Wen Ning stumbled backward, his head spinning.

“Come back,” Jiang Cheng moaned.

This shouldn’t be happening, this shouldn’t be happening, this shouldn’t be—

“If you drink water and take the medicine,” Wen Ning said, his voice quivering, “I’ll…I’ll…touch you more.”

No! What are you thinking?

Jiang Cheng stretched out an arm limply on the floor toward Wen Ning. He opened his palm. “Okay.”

Wen Ning grabbed the water basin and hurried outside, more to escape Jiang Cheng’s greedy stare than to refill the basin.

When he reached the stream, he dropped onto his hands and knees. Dug his fingers into the mud of the stream’s bank, struggled to steady his swaying body.

After a while, he recovered some composure. He rinsed his hands, then submerged the basin and pulled it up. Looked at his reflection in the sloshing pool.

Empty eyes. Dead grey skin. Black veins.

If he looked hard enough, he could also see the heavy chains that for years had bound his neck and shoulders.

When Jiang Wanyin gets his senses back, he won’t remember you said that. He won’t ask you to touch him again.

Wen Ning should’ve felt relieved.

He didn’t.

At some point he must’ve stood up and then he was back in the cave, helping Jiang Cheng drink water and take the correct dose of medicine. After Jiang Cheng finished the medicine, he lay motionless on his back for a long time. Then he furrowed his brow and stared at the cave ceiling, blinking, as if he were waking up and processing his surroundings for the first time.

Wen Ning waited for a sharp remark. A jab in Jiang Cheng’s tone that would push him and his wayward thoughts back to where they belonged.

Instead:

“Well?”

His voice was clear. Sober.

“Well what?” Wen Ning asked. Had to ask, because it wasn’t possible that Jiang Cheng was waiting for what Wen Ning thought he was.

Jiang Cheng seemed to regret speaking as soon as Wen Ning asked. His gaze darted away. His body tensed.

“…Do you…”

“Nothing,” Jiang Cheng snapped.

Something ravenous surged through Wen Ning’s body. His fists clenched, and he was brimming with agitation, an urge to move, to do anything but kneel here in stillness.

How dare Jiang Cheng dangle this temptation in front of his nose, only to swipe it away and flee with it? He had heard Wen Ning talking before about how he missed the touch of other people.

He knew. He must’ve known what this would to do Wen Ning.

How dare he?

“You still want me to—”

“I don’t!” Jiang Cheng finally looked at Wen Ning, and his face was all angles and panicked fury. He winced, as if shouting had worsened his headache.

Wen Ning pressed his hands onto his knees, gripping them, squeezing them. “Don’t yell at me,” he said quietly.

Jiang Cheng’s lips twinged as if he were about to retort. Then he bit it back and turned to look at the ceiling again.

Everything was silent, except for the roaring in Wen Ning’s ears as he fought to hold himself still.

You’re a corpse. You can’t touch him. You don’t even like him.

Jiang Cheng mumbled something he couldn’t hear.

“What?” There was more urgency in Wen Ning’s voice than he wanted.

Jiang Cheng turned his face away completely. “…Maybe.”

Something leaped in Wen Ning’s chest.

His mind screamed at him not to start, not to go somewhere he was forbidden, but his hand was already pressed firmly into Jiang Cheng’s shoulder.

A heavy exhale escaped Jiang Cheng once Wen Ning touched him. His face tilted a few degrees toward Wen Ning, and now Wen Ning could see the flush across his cheeks, a deep red visible even in the darkness of the cave.

“Is that all?” Jiang Cheng’s voice had all its usual spite, but none if its certainty. “Are—are you scared or something?”

Wen Ning grabbed Jiang Cheng’s jaw and jerked his face toward him. Jiang Cheng’s eyes widened. His breath quivered.

“I think you’re the one who’s scared.”

Jiang Cheng swallowed. “Wen Qionglin.” He almost whimpered the name, his eyes wide and fragile like paper moons.

Suddenly Wen Ning was overcome with an urge to hear his birth name like that.

“Wen Ning.” He slowly released Jiang Cheng’s chin and placed the hand on his shoulder.

“Wen Ning,” Jiang Cheng repeated, like he was tasting the words.

Jiang Cheng’s shoulders were hot. His entire body was hot. Wen Ning rubbed his hands across him in small circles at first, then gradually into long sweeps along his entire torso, down to his hips and out to his biceps, massaging gently, letting the heat trickle into his skin. Jiang Cheng’s eyelids were closed, but Wen Ning could still see the pleasure behind them.

The rest happened in a blur. Fingers at the ties of his robes—were they his hands? Jiang Cheng’s? both?—and then the layers dropped and they didn’t matter anymore, and Wen Ning was lying on top of Jiang Cheng and there were fingers dug in his sides and his face was buried in Jiang Cheng’s neck, and he was so very warm.

Since his death, Wen Ning had started spending a lot of time sitting in the sunshine. He’d bake himself in sunbeams, trying to absorb them like some sleepy cold-blooded monster, imagining that he felt as warm as he did under that same sun during his childhood.

Of course, he never felt that warm.

Sometimes he wished that he could throw a rope around the sun and tug it to the ground so it could sit next to him. So it’s heat would be right beside him and he could touch it. Then the sun would feel the way it used to.

And if the sun felt the way it used to, then, surely, the rest of his life would be back to the way it was. His sense of smell, his heartbeat, Granny, A-Jie—everything. The way it was before the war.

Before the Sunshot Campaign.

Sunshot. How aptly named.

If the war had never happened, could he and Jiang Cheng have been like this in another time?

Wen Ning nuzzled his face deeper into Jiang Cheng’s neck. Jiang Cheng was not as warm as the sun, but he was a person, and that felt even more impossible.

As a fierce corpse, it was just as hard for Wen Ning to touch a person with his bare skin as it was to shoot down the sun.

Especially to touch a person like this.

He lifted his face toward Jiang Cheng’s ear. “Jiang Wanyin?”

“Mn?”

“Do you…like this?”

Jiang Cheng’s body stiffened. He was quiet for a long time.

“…Do you?” he finally said.

Do I?

Wen Ning thought about it. He liked how comfortable he felt.

But this was only happening because Jiang Cheng wanted to cool himself down. If Jiang Cheng hadn’t been burning from the Four-Sunsets Flu, he would’ve had no reason to touch Wen Ning.

He would’ve had no reason to be in the same place as Wen Ning.

Something sank inside him as he realized this was going to end eventually. They would go back to resenting each other, and it would never happen again.

“I think I hate it,” Wen Ning said.

Jiang Cheng shifted his jaw. “I hate it too.”

He buried his face back in Jiang Cheng’s neck. “You don’t hate it enough.”

He pressed his lips into something soft and hot, pulled at it with a kiss, running his teeth over skin. Jiang Cheng sucked in a breath.

He dug this way at Jiang Cheng’s neck, then his shoulders, then his chest, desperately hunting for a spot that would make Jiang Cheng reject him with disgust and shove him to the ground like the carcass he was.

“Wen Ning—” Had he finally done it? “Wen Ning—stop—”

He looked up at Jiang Cheng, who was watching him and frowning.

He waited for the insult.

Jiang Cheng tried to push him to the side. His arms barely had any strength, so Wen Ning just followed the push and rolled himself off Jiang Cheng’s body.

For the first time, the cave floor felt cold.

“We—”

Jiang Cheng pulled his upper body on top of Wen Ning before Wen Ning could say anything. He froze in shock.

Jiang Cheng lowered his lips to Wen Ning’s neck and planted a timid kiss on his skin. He tried to run his hands along Wen Ning’s chest and kiss him again, but he soon fell limp and motionless.

Maybe he was exhausted.

More likely, he hadn’t meant any of this, and regretted starting.

Wen Ning reached up and rested his hands on Jiang Cheng’s arms, gently squeezing him. “You don’t need to do anything.”

“I’m…tired…”

“Then rest.” Wen Ning lifted Jiang Cheng off his body and laid him on the cave floor.

Jiang Cheng struggled feebly. Once his back met the dark rock again, he scoffed. “You didn’t let me finish talking.” The familiar glint of derision was back in his eyes.

“Then what were you going to say?”

He looked away. His voice became wobbly. “I’m tired of…of not…doing anything.” He drew in a breath. “Receiving, and not…” He trailed off.

There was more meaning in those words than could fit in the air between them.

Wen Ning’s gut plummeted.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Jiang Cheng blinked at him.

There were words he had never said, but had thought about saying for a long time, and they all came tumbling out.

“We never asked if you wanted it. It’s just, Wei Wuxian was begging us. He was so determined to do it, and I saw how much he c-c-cared about you. He said it was the most important thing to you, so I—I helped him convince my sister—"

“I don’t want to hear this,” Jiang Cheng snapped. He sat up. “I get it. You’re not like me.”

They glared at each other, hostile static between their eyes.

“You did everything you were supposed to for Wei Wuxian, didn’t you?” He wrinkled his nose and coughed out a scornful laugh. “His perfect, loyal little servant—”

Wen Ning shoved Jiang Cheng down, climbed on top of him and pinned his arms to the ground.

A nerve had snapped inside him. Resentful energy clawed up his throat.

“I am not Wei Wuxian’s servant.”

A wave of catharsis crashed through Wen Ning. Rushed out of his body with those words.

“Is that all you think I am? Wei Wuxian’s Ghost General?”

Jiang Cheng stopped struggling and fell limp, gaping up at him.

Wen Ning didn’t know what he looked like right now, but he might’ve been snarling.

“If all I am is the Ghost General,” he leaned down to Jiang Cheng’s face, “I could treat you very differently right now.”

Fear flashed through Jiang Cheng’s eyes.

Good. Be scared of me. Everyone is scared of me.

He pressed harder into Jiang Cheng’s wrists like he wanted to drive them through the stone floor. Satisfaction swelled inside him at the sight of the Jiang Clan Leader so frightened, so helpless.

Jiang Cheng’s lips quivered. “Then do it.”

Wen Ning kissed him on the mouth. Hard.

Whatever he had expected it to feel like, he hadn’t expected to feel it so fully, and he hadn’t expected to be kissed back.

Soon their bodies were in a tangle, and Wen Ning had wandered elsewhere, his hands tracing lower on Jiang Cheng’s body.

Jiang Cheng flinched, as if he knew what Wen Ning intended to do. “Stop, Wen Ning,” Jiang Cheng moaned. “Stop, I—I can’t—I don’t want that—”

Wen Ning pulled away.

What do you mean, he wanted to ask. But regret and shame had caught up to him as soon as Jiang Cheng spoke.

He had nothing that a living person would want. It was already a miracle that he and Jiang Cheng had even touched each other. What right did he have to ask for more?

“Okay,” Wen Ning said softly, and settled himself on the floor a short distance away.

Jiang Cheng looked uncomfortable.

Suddenly Wen Ning wanted to sink into the ground and hide.

Don’t you know what you are?

All Jiang Cheng had wanted was to cool himself off, and Wen Ning had taken it as an invitation to be…to be with him like a real person.

He’d never get an invitation like that.

He wasn’t a person. He was a weapon. A tool. He had pushed beyond his utility to Jiang Cheng, and now it was over.

“Are you just going to sit there?” Jiang Cheng said.

“S-Sorry.” Wen Ning stood and walked over to his robes to cover himself. And after that, who knows where he’d go. It wouldn’t be somewhere in this cave.

“What’re you doing?” Jiang Cheng spat out the words, but his voice was hoarse and unsure. “I’m not done with you.”

Wen Ning glared at him. “You never started anything to be done with.”

Jiang Cheng’s face fell. His mouth opened and closed a few times. “I…”

This was all a mistake.

“I don’t think that,” Jiang Cheng murmured.

Wen Ning ignored him and began to sling on his robes.

“I don’t think that!”

“Think what?”

Jiang Cheng collapsed his upper body back onto the cave floor and stared at the ceiling. “How the hell am I supposed to just think you’re the Ghost General?” He clenched his fists. “Do you know how hard I try to do that?”

Wen Ning mindlessly crumpled the robes in his hands.

“Both of you are horrible. You. Wei Wuxian.”

The robes were back on the ground, and Wen Ning was standing over Jiang Cheng.

He scowled and looked away. “You should’ve stayed away from me and Jin Ling if you wanted me to hate you.”

Wen Ning was sitting next to him.

“Did you forget I’m sick right now?” Jiang Cheng swallowed. His voice softened. “I didn’t want to…that…I only…”

Wen Ning lay on his side next to Jiang Cheng, and loathed himself for being there, feeling exposed, desperate. Stupid.

“Just start over.”

Wen Ning forgot which of them moved first, but then again it didn’t really matter—none of this would matter once it was over—and they lay on their sides facing each other, arms around each other, chests gently pressed together, legs slightly intertwined. Warmth embraced Wen Ning once more.

After a while, Jiang Cheng dozed off.

He had asked this at least twice before, but Jiang Cheng would not hear him, so Wen Ning asked again, “Do you like this?”

Jiang Cheng made a low sound that could’ve been a yes or a no. Perhaps it was both. “Warmer now,” he said, half-asleep, his words slurred.

Of course.

Wen Ning had hugged Jiang Cheng so long that his body had absorbed the heat, and now he even radiated warmth of his own. His usefulness was truly used up.

“Sorry.” He moved to sit up. “I’ll let you sleep now.”

Jiang Cheng wrapped his arms tighter around him, which didn’t do much given how weak and drowsy he was, but Wen Ning felt it so strongly that if he had breath left, it would’ve been squeezed out of him.

“Where are you going?” It sounded like a plea.

With trembling hands, Wen Ning easily peeled Jiang Cheng’s arms off him and pulled away again. “I can’t cool you off anymore.” He stood and slowly turned to walk toward the pile of his robes.

“Why does everyone keep leaving?”

Wen Ning froze.

Something had broken in Jiang Cheng’s voice.

His eyes were closed, his cheeks pink and damp. His expression had fallen as if dropped off a cliff and cracked open raw on the ground.

Wen Ning weaved himself back in between the spaces of Jiang Cheng’s body. Put one hand on the back of Jiang Cheng’s head and tucked it below his chin. Pressed his face into soft hair.

“Don’t leave,” Jiang Cheng murmured into Wen Ning’s neck. Maybe he was talking to someone in a dream. Maybe to Wen Ning. Maybe to everyone at once.

“I won’t.”

This time, they both fell asleep.

* * *

In the earliest, coldest hours of dawn, Wen Ning went alone to the west side of Dafan Mountain and found the Ever-Frozen Flower at the center of the forest, glowing like enchanted ice in a patch of blue-tinted weeds. He dripped its nectar into a tiny glass vial and left, not bothering to stay and watch the bloom shrivel up once the air grew warmer.

He wondered when was the last time someone touched that flower.

It would’ve been one of his ancestors. Even with all the knowledge that had been lost, small fragments of his family’s work remained to help Wen Ning.

Perhaps the Dafan Wen weren’t quite dead yet.

He gave a drop of nectar to Jiang Cheng. Once he was strong enough to fly on his sword, they journeyed back to the Cloud Recesses.

They said not one word to each other.

The juniors celebrated their return, welcoming them with cheers and waves, ushering them to the cold springs where Wen Ning let Wei Wuxian feed the drop of nectar to Lan Wangji, and soon Lan Wangji was cured.

No one knew that Jiang Cheng had caught the Four-Sunsets Flu. They didn’t need to.

Next they stood at the gate of the Cloud Recesses, Wen Ning and Wei Wuxian on one side, Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling on the other.

“Thank you,” Wei Wuxian said. He was beaming. “I really can’t thank you enough.”

Wen Ning and Jiang Cheng only nodded. They still didn’t speak, because if they said something to Wei Wuxian, it might have been mistaken as saying something to each other.

Jiang Cheng turned to Jin Ling. “Let’s go,” he said in a low voice.

“Bye, Wei-shishu. Wen-qianbei,” Jin Ling said with a shy wave before following his uncle.

Wei Wuxian smiled, patted Wen Ning on the shoulder, and headed up the stone path back to the Cloud Recesses.

Wen Ning stood motionless, watching Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling walk away.

After a while, his mind wandered. He wasn’t sure what he had been thinking about, but when he came back to the present, Jiang Cheng was standing in front of him.

“J-Jiang Wanyin—”

He scowled. “I hope I don’t see you again.” Then the lines in his face softened, and he looked down. A tint of redness colored his cheeks. “But next time I do…call me Jiang Cheng.”

He turned around abruptly and marched away, his figure all flowing violet robes and angry movements. He pointed down the path and barked something at Jin Ling, then walked even faster.

Wen Ning laughed quietly to himself. “See you next time, Jiang Cheng.”

* * *

Two weeks later, Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji, and A-Yuan received invitations for a visit to Lotus Pier.

And so did Wen Ning.

That was a surprise.

“The mighty Sandu Shengshou must be feeling especially generous,” Wei Wuxian said with a chuckle as he examined Wen Ning’s invitation.

“I guess so,” Wen Ning said.

Wei Wuxian’s expression turned more serious. “Do you want to go?”

Wen Ning smiled. “I do.”

And so he went to Lotus Pier, by invitation.

The Jiang Clan was holding a martial ceremony and a small festival. It was nothing that outsiders would normally attend, but then again, Wei Wuxian wasn’t exactly an outsider, so maybe the rest of them weren’t either.

After a round of greetings, Wen Ning slinked away for somewhere to be alone.

When he had traveled with A-Yuan to Dafan Mountain to construct the memorial, they had taken plenty of detours, and stumbled into enough festivals for Wen Ning to learn that it was best to keep his distance from crowds.

He found a small pond with cattails, lotus flowers, and a short bridge passing over it. He stood on the bridge and leaned on the railing, watching the dragonflies flittering over the pond, admiring the bustling activities and vibrant colors of the festival a short distance away, listening to music and joyful voices.

Once in a while, A-Yuan would run over to him and show him something. A drum-rattle with a butterfly painted on its small canvas, a spicy kebab that he described the taste of, a red tassel that looked like the one Granny had made so long ago. Wen Ning let A-Yuan buy the tassel for him.

Dusk fell over Lotus Pier, and soon warm lanterns glowed everywhere.

A set of footsteps beside him. He turned. “Jiang Cheng.”

Jiang Cheng nodded. He stood at the edge of the bridge, studying Wen Ning and then scanning the festival. He seemed to have something to say, but his mouth didn’t open.

“Thank you for the invitation.”

“Don’t think too much of it,” Jiang Cheng said irritably. He turned away. “I…have something to give you.”

Surprised, Wen Ning raised his eyebrows and followed Jiang Cheng through a carved panel door into one of the palaces of Lotus Pier, through winding hallways, around corners, until they arrived at another set of doors.

Jiang Cheng opened them. They stepped into a velvety, dimly lit room. It was Jiang Cheng’s living quarters.

Wen Ning waited in the center of the room, unsure of what to do with himself, while Jiang Cheng stepped over to a shelf and pulled something out.

He lifted Wen Ning’s arm and dropped a small tan pouch into his palm.

It was a spirit-trapping pouch. Wen Ning stared at it for a few moments. “What’s this?”

Jiang Cheng kneaded his lips together and looked away. “From Dafan Mountain.”

“Th-The goddess?” In the cave on Dafan Mountain, Jiang Cheng had ordered Wen Ning to leave after he summoned the goddess, and pulled out this pouch. Had he captured the goddess’s spirit to take back to Lotus Pier? Why would he do something like that?

“No, not her.” Jiang Cheng said slowly. He looked guiltier with each word. “I let her go after she talked to me.”

“Then who is it?”

“…You.”

Wen Ning froze.

He let his mouth fall open.

“Wh-What do you mean, me, how is it—”

“It’s a soul fragment.”

The piece of his soul the Goddess Statue had stolen when he was a child.

How can this be?

Suddenly he wanted to throw the pouch across the room, to get it as far away from it as possible.

“How?”

“I didn’t believe it when it happened,” Jiang Cheng said. “I didn’t want to tell you if it wasn’t true, so I…” His shoulders tightened. “So I took it back to Lotus Pier to confirm, and, well, it’s definitely you.”

Wen Ning didn’t know what to say.

“If you want,” Jiang Cheng paused, clenching and unclenching his fists like he was fighting with himself. “If you want, Wei Wuxian can probably do something with it. Put it back in you or something. Make things feel a little better for you.”

“I don’t want it,” Wen Ning said darkly.

He should’ve felt grateful. He had always wished that his soul was complete, that his cultivation abilities were what they should’ve been. Recovering his missing soul fragment would help his spirit be whole. It would help him fight the resentful energy inside him, grant him peace.

But Wen Ning did not feel grateful.

Does he think I need this? That I need to be fixed?

If he was supposed to put this soul fragment back in himself—to make himself more human, he guessed—then what was he supposed to do about his body? What was the point when there was no fixing the rest of him?

This soul fragment didn’t belong to him anymore, just like his living body didn’t belong to him anymore.

He had hoped that Jiang Cheng meant what he said that night, that he didn’t just think of Wen Ning as the Ghost General, didn’t just think of him as a corpse.

That sometimes he forgot, and then Wen Ning could’ve forgotten too.

He’d been wrong.

He handed the pouch back.

“That’s fine, then,” Jiang Cheng said calmly as he took the pouch. “Didn’t think you’d want it anyway.”

“Huh?”

“You seem fine without it.” He shrugged. “But it would be better to ask.”

Whatever had dragged Wen Ning down before, its pressure lifted, and Wen Ning’s spirits rose.

He doesn’t think I need it.

Their eyes met, and a bridge passed through the space between them.

It made sense that he’d say this. Jiang Cheng had something inside him that no one had asked if he wanted.

That was partly Wen Ning’s fault.

His insides churned with a question. “Jiang Cheng?”

“What?”

“On Dafan Mountain, if you hadn’t been so tired, would we have…” He took a step back. He folded his hands and stared at the floor. “Would we have done more?”

The silence gnawed at Wen Ning’s ears. He felt his heart sink lower and lower as he waited.

“No.”

“…Oh.”

Wen Ning turned for the door. “I’ll take my leave, Jiang-zongzhu.”

“It’s not because of that.”

Wen Ning stood in the doorway, resting a hand on the door frame and gazing down the hall, trying not to let himself quiver.

“It’s not because of you.” He heard Jiang Cheng step closer. “I’m just…I’m…” Anger barbed his voice. “I’m not the right man. Barely even a man. I can’t give you anything.”

“What do you mean?” Wen Ning said quietly.

Jiang Cheng’s voice became even quieter than Wen Ning’s. “Why do you think the Jiang Clan doesn’t have an heir?”

“Because every woman has blacklisted you.”

“You!—” He took a moment to steady his breath and lower his voice. “And what do you think is the reason for that? Bad-tempered, loud, hostile—I know what they all say—and on top of that, I…I don’t…desire. Not like that. Not for everything I should.” He sounded like he wanted to hit himself. “A pathetic husband I’d make.”

Wen Ning finally turned back to the room. Jiang Cheng looked away immediately, his jaw and fists clenched, his face red.

“That’s not pathetic.”

Then Wen Ning’s chest knotted with guilt. He felt like he had dirtied a home that wasn’t his. “Did you…desire any of it? That night?”

Jiang Cheng swallowed. His voice cracked. “I did like some of it.”

Maybe it was different for Wen Ning, banished from human touch for years, but he couldn’t imagine how someone would find this a problem. If that was the farthest Wen Ning went for the rest of eternity, he still would’ve been beyond happy.

“Then only doing those things is enough.”

“Enough for whom?”

Wen Ning stood still for a few moments, feeling like he was balancing on a tightrope.

Enough for me.

Except.

The ghosts of the past had built a wall between them, shattering the bridge to nowhere.

They had spent a long time without acknowledging it, but they still hadn’t fully forgiven each other, and it might've been a while until they did. The existence of the other was as much a source of pain as it had the potential to be a source of joy.

Maybe they could be friends one day. But to become something more, to do that again…

It just wasn’t time.

Jiang Cheng’s eyes darkened, as if he knew it too.

“It’ll be enough for whomever you choose,” Wen Ning said. “Maybe…” He didn’t finish.

He left. Tried not to feel anything, wished that his emotions were as dulled as his sense of taste and touch.

“Wen Ning.” Jiang Cheng had followed him into the hallway.

He stopped and turned halfway around.

“…Thank you.”

Wen Ning gave a half-hearted smile. “Please don’t thank me, and don’t tell me you’re sorry, either.”

Jiang Cheng opened his mouth. Closed it.

He nodded and disappeared back into his room.

* * *

That night, Wen Ning left Lotus Pier by himself. He’d meet the others back at the Cloud Recesses.

Sometime.

For now, he just wanted to wander underneath the moon.

Hours later, he found himself back on Dafan Mountain, in front of his family’s memorial. He bowed, then knelt on the ground, stroking the dirt, wondering if he could write a message in it and have it reach his family.

He thought of how he stood here in the sun with Jiang Cheng, holding his hand.

Squeezing Jiang Cheng’s hand like Wen Qing used to squeeze his.

His throat caught.

Why does it have to be him?

He scraped the ground and let dirt wedge under his fingernails. Then he placed his hands on the memorial stone, pressed his face on it. It still didn’t feel like anything.

He tried humming a song from his childhood, but it didn’t vibrate in his chest like it used to.

A gentle pat on his head.

He put his face in his dirt-stained hands and sobbed waterless tears.

If only one person were alive to forget Wen Ning was dead, he wished it could’ve been his sister instead.

* * *

Two days later, Wen Ning received another letter.

The soul fragment has been put to rest.

You are always welcome in Lotus Pier.

Jiang Cheng.

It made him smile.

He carried the note in his robes from then on. Some days it felt like nothing, some days it felt like a deadweight, and some days it felt like a good luck charm he could use when he was ready.

But it always made him feel a little more alive.

* * *

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this chapter, you can be a supportive sibling like Jiang Yanli by liking, reblogging, and visiting me on AO3.

Happy ending bonus scene >

[kirk-spock-in-the-impala]

Follow You Down (3 of 13)

CHAPTER 3: ESKEL 

  ON AO3 HERE

CW: Geralt’s headspace; hunting and field dressing of venison; subdrop

Story Summary: 

Geralt was never supposed to survive the Trials. A submissive witcher was an abomination, an insult to the order of the world. He must never let anyone know his nature, must never accept a gentle touch or a kind word. It's too risky, too dangerous. He might slip up, and that would mean the end of everything.

But Jaskier refuses to keep to the script. After the boisterous (alluring), overly invasive (affectionate), and stupidly persistent (brave) Dominant walks into his life with bread in his pants, Geralt starts to think that maybe her could break this endless cycle of deprivation and pain. If only he could figure out how to deserve it.

CHAPTER 3: ESKEL

Approx 8,100 words under the cut

It took Geralt two weeks to fully heal from the cave in.  He was functional on the third day after his injury, but only in the sense that he could press through the pain and function at the risk of worsening his injury. Jaskier had insisted Geralt refrain from hunting until he was completely healed despite his protests of functionality. The only way Jaskier had gotten Geralt to agree was by reminding him that if, due to his injury, he couldn’t perform at full capacity, Jaskier, Roach, or Potato might get hurt as a result. Taking a break to protect himself was unnecessary, but Geralt wouldn’t risk the safety of his travel companions.

 And so, for two weeks Jaskier had played in inns from Brugge to Dorian, gathering crowds and coin in every nameless village along the way.  Geralt had heard of a harpy problem on the sea cliffs outside Gors Velen, so they were heading in that direction, traveling slowly so as not to tire the horses needlessly while Geralt healed.  If the harpy contract didn’t pan out, they could always head to Novigrad; there was never a shortage of contracts in a city that large.

 Today, Geralt and Jaskier had pitched camp about half a day’s ride from Gors Velen.  Geralt, finally healed and free from restriction, went off to hunt fresh game for their dinner while Jaskier set up camp and settled the horses.  He hadn’t said as much, but his joy at being free to roam again was writ large in his eagerness to hunt, to provide for Jaskier properly again.  

Geralt tracked a herd of deer through the woodlands just outside the border of Brokilon, careful to never stray within its bounds lest a volley of arrows from the dryad guards within end his life. The woodland buzzed with the sounds of mid-summer, cicadas chirping in the trees, rabbits bounding through the underbrush, and birds frantically hunting to feed their growing chicks. Geralt breathed deeply, enjoying the scents of warm grass, rich dirt, and blooming wild flowers.

 He carefully followed the trail of the deer herd, walking soundlessly over the forest floor and keeping well downwind.  He was patient, willing to take on a longer hunt for the greater reward venison would provide, pleased the long days afforded him the extra time.

 As the shadows lengthened in the deepening afternoon, Geralt caught up to the herd where it rested alongside a small, bubbling brook.  Geralt crouched in the shade of a large oak tree, unmoving, taking in the scene.  The herd leader stood watch, nose raised into the wind, nostrils flaring to catch any possible scent.  The does grazed around him, tails idly flicking flies away from their rumps.  The fawns cavorted with each other, tumbling head over heels in the long grass as they chased each other about.  Geralt scanned the herd for the most appropriate target, selecting an older doe with a cut down her leg.  She was unlikely to survive the season with a wound like that.  At least an arrow would be a quick death.

 Geralt raised his crossbow, already loaded, and took careful aim.  Vesemir had always taught him that he should only shoot when he was certain his arrow would strike true, ending the target’s life without pain.  It would not do to cause needless suffering.  Taking a deep breath and letting it out, steadying his aim as his lungs emptied and his arm stilled, Geralt loosed the arrow.  It struck true.  

 The rest of the herd scattered at the sound of the shot, bounding off into the woods.   Geralt rose, hooking the crossbow back onto his sword belt, and headed out in the clearing. When he reached the deer, he retrieved his arrow and flipped the carcass on its back to field dress it.  Spreading the doe’s hind legs with his, he cut a long incision up her belly before carefully removing her organs and flipping the carcass back over to drain the blood.  Out in the open like this, it was safer to dress the deer well away from their campsite to avoid attracting corpse eaters or scavengers.  

 As the doe drained, Geralt dug a deep, narrow hole in which to bury the deer’s organs and viscera so they wouldn’t attract necrophages or wolves that might harm passing travelers.  Finally satisfied with the field dressing, Geralt bound the doe’s legs together, one binding for each pair, front and back, and lifted the carcass up onto his shoulders for the trek back to camp.  

 He smiled to himself as he thought of Jaskier’s pleased reaction to the bounty.  With a haul this good, they would eat well for at least a couple weeks.  They had plenty of salt to cure the meat and could smoke it dry overnight to preserve it as jerky for the road ahead.  The deer hide should even fetch a decent price at the market in Gors Velen.  

 Geralt knew he wasn’t the best travel companion – or even a passable one most days – but he did his best to compensate for his many failings by keeping Jaskier safe and well fed on the road.  After two weeks of uselessness, of burdening Jaskier with his care, the least he could do was replenish their meat stores and ensure Jaskier didn’t go hungry.

 ----------------

 It was dusk by the time Geralt returned to camp with the doe.  Jaskier had already prepared a fire and a smoking rack in anticipation of Geralt’s success and he was delighted at the prospect of a good venison stew and the opportunity to replenish their stores with fresh jerky.  

 As Jaskier prepared the stew pot, Geralt skinned the deer and prepared the best cuts for the stew, dumping the chunks into the pot with the root vegetables and herbs Jaskier had already prepared.  While the stew cooked, Geralt cut the remaining venison into thin, even strips, handing each to Jaskier to salt and lay out on the smoking rack to dry.  

 The smell was mouthwatering and Geralt’s stomach rumbled in anticipation.  Jaskier chuckled at the sound, casting Geralt a fond look over the fire as they worked. Geralt’s appetite was formidable when he allowed himself to eat his fill.  Jaskier planned on encouraging him to do just that while they had such abundance.

 Suddenly, the wind shifted and Geralt caught a new scent in the air.  He froze, bloody hand raised partway toward clasping his sword hilt, head tilted to the side as he listened hard and scented the air.  Jaskier stopped his work, watching Geralt with concern.

 “Geralt?”  He asked quietly, “what is it?”

 Geralt’s eyes narrowed in concentration, focusing completely on the new scent and sounds.  “Someone’s coming.”  He said.

 As the person grew closer, their scent became clear and Geralt abruptly relaxed, face breaking out in an unrestrained grin as he leapt to his feet.  

 “It’s Eskel!”  He exclaimed, shooting Jaskier a delighted grin before bounding off into the woods.  

 Geralt tore through the underbrush making no attempt to hide his approach.  It wouldn’t do to surprise another witcher, though he had no doubt Eskel had already caught wind of them.  Within moments, Geralt caught sight of Eskel and jogged up to him, Eskel welcoming him with a strong embrace.  

 “Geralt!  What a pleasant surprise.”  Eskel said, grinning down at Geralt.  Eskel had a few inches on Geralt in all directions, bulky where Geralt was lean. His dark hair was cut short and a thick, ropy scar cut across his handsome face from his right ear to the corner of his mouth.  His tattoo was exposed below the elbow under his rolled-up sleeves, thick Dominant mark on full display within the intricate design.  He was leading a black mare laden with his packs, a calm look in her intelligent eyes.

 “Eskel, it’s good to see you.”  Geralt said happily, nudging his head under Eskel’s chin, greeting him as a brother.  “You look well.  What are you doing this far north?”  Eskel usually stayed in the Southern Kingdoms outside of winter, so it was unusual to run into his brother this far into the Northern Kingdoms’ realm.

 Eskel ruffled Geralt’s hair affectionately before wrapping an arm around his shoulders as they started walking back toward the camp.  “I received word of a valuable contract for a harpy nest in Gors Velen from one of my recent contractors.  I was already near the coast, albeit much farther South, so I decided to take a detour from my usual haunts and get a break from the summer heat.”  He gave Geralt a rough, playful squeeze before releasing him.  “And you, Geralt?  What brings you here?”

 “Same contract, it seems.” Geralt frowned, looking down and away before continuing.  “I was slow hunting a kikimora swarm and got caught in a cave in. Took me two fucking weeks to recover. Jaskier wouldn’t let me hunt so he had to support us.”  Geralt’s shoulders tensed, anticipating Eskel’s reaction.  He knew he fucked up and he wouldn’t hide it from Eskel.

 Eskel stopped, gently grabbing Geralt’s shoulder and turning Geralt to face him.  He ran his hands up and down Geralt’s arms, scrutinizing him for injury.  “And are you well now?”

 Geralt nodded, still looking down.

 “I’m glad you’re all right, those swarms can be vicious.” Eskel dropped his head and bumped his forehead against Geralt’s.  “I bet you killed them with extreme prejudice.”

 A small smile forced its way onto Geralt’s face. It was hard to hold onto his self-flagellation in the face of Eskel’s good nature.  He always had been the steadiest and kindest of all of them. “Aye, crushed them all under a ton of rocks.”

 Eskel barked a laugh, releasing Geralt so they could continue walking, knocking his shoulder into Geralt’s and shoving him slightly off the path.  “They’re dead and you’re not, that’s all that matters.”

 They walked in comfortable silence until they reached the camp, Jaskier jumping to his feet when they appeared, smiling brightly.  He turned to Eskel, holding out his hand in open greeting.  “I’m Jaskier. You must be Eskel.  I’ve never seen Geralt so happy to see someone!”  

 Eskel took his hand, shaking it firmly.  “Well met, Jaskier.  I heard a lot about you over the winter.”

 “Did you now?”  Jaskier asked, eyeing Geralt, a pleased grin on his face.  Geralt looked pointedly away, admitting nothing.

 Jaskier grinned at him as he stepped back, gesturing to the pot and the stew bubbling over the fire.  “Please, join us.  Dinner is almost ready.”  

 Geralt took the reins from Eskel’s hand, waving him off to go sit down while he cared for the black mare, tying her to the line with Roach and Potato before removing her tack and dropping Eskel’s pack next to his.

 Jaskier tasted the stew and declared it done, pulling over the bowls he’d laid out earlier for their meal.  “Geralt, please grab another bowl while you’re there.” Geralt opened the right pack and pulled out their extra bowl and spoon, wordlessly handing them to Jaskier.

 Jaskier’s nose wrinkled as he caught sight of the deer blood still staining Geralt’s hands.  “Go wash that off before you eat.” Jaskier directed, raising an eyebrow when Geralt started to protest.  Geralt huffed but complied, heading off to the nearby stream to clean his hands before his meal.  

 Eskel watched the scene with a bemused smile, glad to see his first impression of Jaskier matched the stories Geralt had told over the winter at Kaer Morhen.  Eskel had never agreed with Vesemir’s approach to Geralt’s submissive nature, finding it cruel to deny him relief for so long, but he didn’t have a good alternative to suggest that wouldn’t put Geralt at risk given that there were too few witchers for a pair of them to travel together.  Witchers were feared and reviled enough as it was without giving potential attackers the idea to use a Dominant’s Voice to subdue a submissive witcher alone on the Path.  The outcome of such an attack would be horrifying, if not deadly.  But if Geralt had found himself a Dominant he could trust, and Jaskier certainly seemed a good man on first blush, Eskel would rest easier.

 “It seems you have me at a disadvantage.”  Jaskier said as he handed Eskel a full bowl of stew. “Geralt hasn’t told me anything about you beyond that you are a fellow witcher.”

 Eskel took the stew with a nod of thanks, glad to have a hot meal he didn’t have to hunt and cook himself.  “I’m not surprised, he’s not exactly the most forthcoming.”

 Jaskier chuckled, shaking his head fondly.  “For sure he isn’t.  So, tell me about yourself.  I would like to know more if you’re willing to share.”

 Eskel sat back with his stew, speaking in between bites of the soft, fresh meat and tender vegetables.  “Geralt and I were in the same training group at Kaer Morhen. We’re probably of an age, or close to it, though neither of us knows for sure how old we are exactly.”

 Jaskier gave a sympathetic frown at that, but didn’t question it, knowing most witchers were Child Surprises.  “We, along with Lambert, were among the few to survive the selection and the Trials.  Geralt and I learned everything together, even if I did have to save his ass more often than not when we ran the training courses together around the Keep.”  He said that last bit with a teasing grin on his face, hearing Geralt approach, pitching his voice to be sure Geralt caught every word.

 “You saved me?”  Geralt asked incredulously as he rejoined their circle around the fire, “have you lost your memory in your old age?”  Geralt took the bowl Jaskier handed him, sitting down across the fire from Eskel, next to Jaskier.  Jaskier just sat back and grinned, eating his dinner as he watched them bicker, delighted to see this more open side to his favorite witcher.

 “Well, maybe we saved each other.”  Eskel conceded, impish grin making his amber eyes dance with mirth.

 Geralt huffed indignantly, rolling his eyes, but turned his focus to his meal rather than continuing, embarrassed to be to the focus of the conversation.  “Tell me about the contract,” he said in an attempt to change the subject.

 Eskel followed his lead.  “It’s a harpy nest on the sea coast outside Gors Velen.  I heard there are over thirty individuals in the nest and that they’ve caused well over a dozen deaths among passing travelers and sailors.”

 Geralt frowned.  “Unusual to see thirty in a nest.”

 “Aye, I could use your help with this, if you’re willing.”

 Geralt looked up in surprise.  “You want to share the contract?”

 Eskel nodded.  “Thirty harpies on the sea cliffs doesn’t make for good odds and I’d rather not add myself to their list of victims.”  

 Geralt considered the offer for a moment before accepting.  “Makes sense. Your magic will be helpful too.  I fucking hate the ones that fly.”  

 Eskel chucked his spoon at him, his bowl empty, laughing as it bonked Geralt on the head.  “Yeah, you never were good at catching.”

 Geralt looked murderous, moving to place his bowl down and leap over the fire at Eskel, but Jaskier stopped him with a hand on his knee.  “Eat your dinner first, then you can fight with your brother.”  Geralt growled, but subsided, picking his bowl back up and finishing his meal, sulking.  Eskel watched in amazement at how easily Geralt listened to Jaskier.  He was certain now that Jaskier was Geralt’s Dominant.

 When Jaskier looked away, he chucked the spoon back at Eskel.  “I saw that.” Jaskier said, a note of warning in his tone.  “Don’t waste food by letting it get cold. Eat.”

 Geralt pulled a face, but settled, using Eskel’s thrown spoon to finish his serving and half of another before gathering the dishes and the pot and heading back to the stream to clean them while Jaskier banking the fire under the smoking rack for the night.  As Jaskier worked, Eskel retrieved his bedroll, setting it up beside Geralt’s and removing his armor, piling it next to his pack.  

 When Eskel was certain Geralt was out of earshot, he spoke to Jaskier.  “Thank you for taking care of him.”

 Jaskier looked up from the fire, startled. “Whatever do you mean?”

 “He looks happier than I’ve ever seen him since he started on his Path.  You’re good for him.  And I heard you kept him from hunting until he healed from his injuries, something I’ve never managed to do.”  Eskel bowed his head to Jaskier.  “You have my gratitude for your care of my brother.”

 Jaskier flushed from the praise, uncertain how to respond to Eskel’s open display of emotion.  “It is my pleasure to care for him.  He’s very dear to me.”  He finally said.  He looked up at Eskel, smile slightly pained.  “I only wish he’d let me do more.”

 Eskel knew that feeling well.  “Geralt has had to rely on himself all his life and he’s had to constantly hide himself from those who would hurt him.  Given who and what he is, that’s most of the world, unfortunately. It’s hard for him to accept help, it always has been.”  Eskel cocked his head, hearing Geralt approach.  “But I think you’re just the person to get through to him.  He deserves to be happy.”  

 “He does.”  Jaskier agreed, “and I’ll do whatever I can to make him so.”

 Eskel shushed him with a gesture, indicating Geralt had come back within earshot.  He knew Geralt would not thank them for talking about him behind his back, no matter how well meant their words.

 Geralt looked between the two of them suspiciously when he arrived back at the camp.  Scowling, but without evidence to make any accusations, he repacked the pot and dishes, removed his boots, and settled on his bedroll.  He glared at Eskel when he saw how he’d placed his bedroll between Geralt and the woods, protecting him by keeping him in the center of their camp with Jaskier on the other side of the campfire and Eskel at his back.  But he didn’t protest or move his bedroll, not wanting to draw attention to what Eskel had done and make Jaskier suspicious as to his motivations.  For all that he was glad to see Eskel again before winter, putting him in contact with Jaskier greatly increased the risk that Jaskier would discover his secret.

 With the chores done, the three men settled in for the night, soothed to sleep by the good food and the soft, ambient noise of the summer forest.

  -------------------------

  Two days after their reunion, Geralt and Eskel lay on a cliff edge overlooking the harpy nest off to their south, well downwind of the strategizing witchers.  Geralt had let Eskel pick up the contract – even on the rare occasion witchers worked together, they did not share that information with the Alderman and risk inviting doubt as to their abilities – while he settled the horses into the stables at the local inn.  Jaskier procured them two rooms, as the innkeeper did not allow more than two adults per room, and left it up to Geralt to decide with whom he would bunk for the night. Jaskier had made it clear either choice was perfectly fine with him.

 Jaskier was safely back at the inn having been sternly dissuaded by both witchers from following them on this hunt.  The risk that a harpy from the massive nest would catch sight of him and carry him off was far too high.  With such a large hoard expected, Geralt and Eskel would be hard-pressed to protect themselves, let alone Jaskier.  Mollified by Eskel’s promise to tell him about the hunt afterwards and spare no detail, Jaskier stayed behind, planning to spend the day and night entertaining the locals at the tavern below the inn.

 The harpy nest was almost two hours from Gors Velen on foot.  Neither Geralt nor Eskel was willing to risk their mount to the harpies’ appetite, so Roach and Eskel’s black mare, Ember, were safely back at the inn’s stable with Potato, the old gelding delighted to be in the company of two fine mares.  

 Upon reaching the coast, Geralt and Eskel had stayed well upwind of the nest, choosing a vantage point for surveillance before plotting their attack.  From their location, they could see the large cliffside cavern that was serving as the harpy’s nest.  It overlooked a natural harbor, giving the harpies plenty of prey from the marine animals and unwitting sailors who came to rest in the harbor’s protected waters. To further boost their yields, the main trading route between Nilfgaard and Novigrad ran along the coast, giving the harpy nest an ample supply of travelers on whom to prey.  According to the Alderman, the harpy nest had appeared two months ago and only grown from there.  The high contract price was funded by both Novigrad and Gors Velen in the interest of a quick resolution.

 “Seems the best angle is to approach from upwind and draw the nest away from the coast.”  Geralt said, pointing out a shallow depression along the coastline. “If we can get them down in there, we shouldn’t have too much trouble.”

 “Agreed.  And once we clear out the flyers, we can toss a couple bombs down into the cavern to draw out any stragglers before we climb down there to destroy the nest itself.” Eskel said, adding a selection of bombs from his pack to the pouch tied to his belt.

 Geralt did the same with his selection before loading his crossbow quiver and looping that onto his belt as well, priming the crossbow with a bolt and laying it gently on the grass as he downed two potions from his pack to bolster his abilities – Thunderbolt for attack power and Swallow for vitality.  

 Ready, he turned to Eskel.  “Your Signs are stronger, so if I draw them out to the depression, can you knock them down with Aard?  I’ll concentrate on taking them out once they’re grounded.”

 Eskel nodded, giving his armor buckles a final check and swallowing his own potions – Petri's Philter to increase the power of his Signs and Tawny Owl to increase his stamina and allow him to cast more Signs for longer.  Eskel was the most magically powerful of all the witchers and Geralt the most skilled with the blade, so it made sense to plan their attack to play to their strengths.

 “Ready?”  Eskel asked.

 “Ready.”  

 They slunk down the coastline, keeping low and out of sight in the scrub brush, careful to mind the play of the wind.  If it shifted, they would need to attack quickly to maintain the element of surprise.

 Fortunately for them, the wind cooperated and they were able to reach the harpies’ nest undetected.  While Eskel hid in the brush surrounding the small depression, Geralt darted between cover until he reached the harpy sentry situated on the far edge of the depression, facing out toward the ocean.  Silently, he slit her throat, letting her body drop soundlessly to the sea grass below.  He crept closer to the cliff’s edge, coming within sight of the second sentry posted on the cliffside itself.  He drew his crossbow, embedding the loaded bolt into the harpy’s eye before she could make a sound, killing her instantly.  Her body dropped hard into the mouth of the cave below, startling the nest and drawing the swarm out to investigate.

 After shooting the second sentry, Geralt had immediately retreated back to the planned battleground, positioning himself in the center of the depression.  He loaded another bolt in his crossbow, taking down the first harpy to come in range. Her sisters screamed, dive bombing him from all directions.  He managed to shoot only one more before they descending on him.  He switched to his silver sword, dropping the crossbow, the hybrid oil he’d rubbed into it lending him extra power against the harpies.

 When most of the swarm was within the depression, Eskel burst out of the scrub brush, casting a powerful Aard sign that blew the harpies out of the air.  His control was such that he was able to cast the Sign just above Geralt’s head, close enough that he felt the wind from the air displaced by the powerful blow without being affected by it.  Harpies fell along around Geralt, stunned by the blast from Aard.  Geralt quickly jumped into action, fitting his silver blade through the ribs of each fallen harpy and piercing her heart, Eskel doing the same behind him.

 There were too many for them to dispatch before the stun wore off, and the surviving harpies, still at least fifteen, rose quickly back into the air, screaming and brandishing their long talons and sharp wings as they dove down around the two witchers.  

 Eskel and Geralt stood back to back, rotating as one so Eskel could knock the harpies down and Geralt could end their lives with a swift killing blow.  They moved as if dancing, certain of the other’s steps without needing to look, a deadly whirl of magic and sharp silver.

 Finally, the assault ceased.  Eskel dropped his hands and Geralt let the point of his blade brush the ground.  Both panted from exertion, lungs bellowing.  As they caught their breath, keeping a wary eye on their surroundings, they crept toward the cliff’s edge, cautiously peering over the side toward the cave below.  Harpies were crafty beasts and it was not beyond them to plot an ambush for their executioners.

 Seeing nothing, Geralt stood back, sword ready, as Eskel lay on his stomach and tossed a series of bombs down into the cave mouth. As they exploded, outraged shrieks echoed from below as seven more harpies burst through the smoke and slammed into Geralt, bypassing the prostrate Eskel.  They surrounded him on all sides, too low for Eskel to safely blast off with Aard and too close for Geralt to have time to cast any Signs of his own.  

 Eskel saw Geralt’s silver blade flash as a harpy’s body dropped back, blood spurting from her slashed neck.  He leapt into the fray, his own sword taking the head off one harpy and the wing off another as he reached Geralt’s side, positioning them back to back again.  From there, Eskel could safely cast Aard to throw the remaining four harpies out of the air, Geralt dealing a killing blow to each as Eskel watched for more, dispatching the one harpy who had fallen at his feet.  

 A slash from a talon cut across Geralt’s upper left arm, slowly dripping blood.  Eskel gestured at it.  “Serious?”

 Geralt glanced down, grimacing at the injury caused by his carelessness.  “No, just a scratch.”

 Eskel nodded, trusting Geralt to let him know if his fighting abilities were impaired.  Geralt may be dismissive of his own needs, but he wouldn’t put Eskel at risk by hiding any impediment to his usual prowess.

 Together, they crept again toward the cliff edge and repeated the bomb tactic.  This time, no harpies appeared.  They waited again, listening hard.  Silence.

 One by one, starting with Eskel, they climbed down the cliff edge, dropping in the mouth of the cave.  Each downed a Cat for visibility in the dark, the toxicity making their matched eyes go completely black.  Eyesight boosted, they slowly worked their way through the cave, swords at the ready.   They found the nest at the back of the relatively shallow cave system, human bones thick on the floor and blood splattered on the walls, but, thankfully, no more harpies.  They dispatched the nest with a pair of grapeshot bombs and cast Igni to destroy it completely.  It would do no good to clear out the occupants while leaving a perfect home ready to attract the next nest of harpies.  

 With a last check around the cave, they climbed back up to the top of the cliff and set about harvesting the corpses, collecting valuable alchemy ingredients and taking the tongue of each harpy as a trophy to prove the hunt complete.  By the time they were done, they counted forty-seven harpies.  

 “I’ve never seen so many in one nest.”  Eskel commented as they walked back to gather their packs from their surveillance post.  “We’ll have to update the beastiary at Kaer Morhen and tell Vesemir about this over the winter.  We don’t want Lambert or any of the other witchers surprised by the size of a nest.”

 Eskel reached out and ruffled Geralt’s hair as they walked.  “Without you here too, I doubt I would have survived this.  Thank you.”

 Geralt looked up at him from under Eskel’s hand before shoving it off.  “You would’ve been fine.  You’re practically a mage with all that power.”  Geralt tried to ignore the throbbing in his left arm.  He was the one who got careless and let a harpy cut him. Jaskier would fuss now when they returned, focusing on him when he should be free to play and enjoy the company of other softer, better submissives who deserved his careful attentions for the evening.

 Eskel elbowed him, shoving him over to the left. “I know you, Geralt.  I can practically hear you berating yourself for that cut.”  Geralt looked away but didn’t respond.  “The only reason I was able to cast so effectively was because you drew them off. It’s my fault you got swarmed and that harpy had a chance to slash you – I should have been better prepared to cast them down when they came over the cliff edge.”

 Geralt looked up at that, protesting immediately. “But you had to lean over the cliff to throw the bombs, you couldn’t have gotten up any faster.”

 “And you were ready for them so you can’t be blamed for one harpy in seven getting in a lucky hit when you were swarmed.  I’m only glad you weren’t seriously hurt.” Eskel said, drawing Geralt close with an arm around his shoulders, careful not to brush the long scrape.

 Geralt huffed, but let it drop as they reached the spot where they’d left their packs, knowing Eskel would never see his failure clearly.  He was far too fond of Geralt for that, for reasons Geralt would never understand. As they started the long walk back to Gors Velen, trophies in hand, Geralt could only hope that Jaskier would be too distracted – by the crowd, by a pretty submissive, or by Eskel’s company – to notice Geralt’s wound.

  --------------------

  Geralt’s wish was granted.  By the time they returned to Gors Velen and Eskel traded the trophies for the contract price with the unusually grateful Alderman, Jaskier had finished his performance and had left word with the innkeeper for them that he had already retired to bed.  The innkeeper implied he’d retired alone, but Geralt doubted it.  Jaskier was a rare type of Dominant and he attracted favorable, well-deserved attention wherever he went.  Geralt pushed down the pang of jealously that thought caused.  He should be grateful for Jaskier’s company.  He would never, could never, have the right to even hope for more.

 Using his unwillingness to wake Jaskier this late as a cover for his real reasons – not wanting to cause Jaskier undue upset over his injury or risk seeing another submissive in his bed – Geralt followed Eskel back to his room, grateful he’d thought ahead to leave his packs in there for after the hunt.

 When they reached the small room, they saw Jaskier must have arranged for a bath for them before he retired.  A small, wooden tub sat before the fire, half-filled with cool water, with a large cauldron over the fire full of hot water waiting to be used. Between the two of them, they easily lifted the cauldron and filled the bath completely.  Eskel cast a controlled Igni to add a little more heat, satisfied when the water was just shy of scalding.

 Geralt gestured for Eskel to take the first bath and Eskel didn’t argue, stripping off his armor and settling back into the steaming water.  Geralt tossed the wash cloth at his head from behind before carefully placing the wash basin with the soap fragment next to the tub.  Soap was too precious to risk wasting.

 Eskel, unlike Geralt, didn’t enjoy long soaks, so he quickly scrubbed himself down while Geralt removed and cleaned his own armor. Finished, he dried off and left the bath to Geralt before turning his attention to cleaning and oiling his gear.

 Geralt stripped, dropping his dirty clothes with Eskel’s beside the tub to wash later, sinking into the steaming water with a satisfied groan, closing his eyes and letting his head rest on the back edge of the tub.

 “Hedonist.”  Eskel teased, grinning over at Geralt.

 Geralt made an obscene gesture at him without opening his eyes, comfortable letting his guard down under the watchful protection of his brother.  Eskel wouldn’t let anything happen to him while he bathed.  Not that Jaskier would either, but Jaskier was unpredictable in other ways.  He might decide to try helping Geralt with his hair or offer to scrub his back, things Geralt wanted almost as strongly as he rejected those offers.  Eskel knew better than to offer things Geralt shouldn’t have.

 Eventually, the water cooled and Geralt finished his bath, cleaning himself thoroughly to remove the characteristic stink of harpy, paying careful attention to the slash down his left arm.  It wasn’t deep and would heal well on its own as long as made sure to clean it properly.  

 Finished, he stepped out of the bath, dried off, and dropped his and Eskel’s dirty clothes in the bath, scrubbing at any stubborn stains before leaving them to soak.

 He redressed in his spare outfit, pulling on only the loose pants and linen shirt for now, finger combing his long hair before leaving it to air dry.  Once he was dressed, he removed the laundry from the bath and started to wring out the clothes, Eskel joining him to help.  They hung the wet clothes on the line by the fire, kindly provided by the innkeeper.  It was a familiar routine for them, sharing baths and chores in a small room by the fire, much like their housing at Kaer Morhen.  While the Keep had a laundry for the larger items, each trainee was expected to wash, mend, and maintain his own clothing and armor.  As Eskel and Geralt had been roommates, they frequently shared these chores, with Geralt taking on the mending and Eskel the bulk of the washing, as was their preference.

 Tasks complete, Eskel grabbed a small book from his pack, a precious resource for one who loved to read as much as he, and settled on the edge of the bed to read by the candlelight.  Geralt went to check on Jaskier and, hearing nothing but his soft breathing through the door, returned to Eskel’s room for the night.  Jaskier was safe and Geralt would not disturb his rest.

 Exhaustion pulled at Geralt, both from the fight and from the strain of nearly six months without a drop.  Soothed by his brother’s easy, familiar presence, Geralt let some of his usual control slip, allowing a soft expression to come to his face, limbs loose and gait relaxed.  Seeing Eskel sitting on the side of the bed in that familiar reading pose, Geralt joined him as he had many times in their youth, sinking to his knees beside his brother and resting his head on Eskel’s thigh.  Warmth immediately flooded him as the first tendrils of subspace cossetted him, easing the ache of long deprivation.

 Eskel placed a gentle hand on his head, seeing the vaguely unfocused look in Geralt’s eyes.  “You shouldn’t do that here, Geralt.”  He said softly, looking down on his brother with only kindness in his amber gaze.

 Geralt felt as if a bucket of ice water had been thrown over him.  Pulled roughly from his relaxed drift, his heartrate skyrocketed as a cold weight settled in his chest.  He shoved himself back and away from Eskel, sprawling on the floor and staring up at him, stricken.  He should have controlled himself better.  He shouldn’t have put Eskel in the position to need to remind him of his place.  Shame washed over him and his vision blackened at the edges from the rapid drop.

 Eskel looked startled by the violent reaction, immediately reaching out to Geralt to soothe him, but Geralt flinched away. “Easy, Geralt.” He said, attempting to calm him. “I’ll get Jaskier for you and all will be well.”

 Geralt looked up at him in anguished confusion. Why the fuck would he get Jaskier? If Jaskier saw him like this, he might suspect the truth and then Geralt could never travel with him again. Geralt shook his head vehemently, incapable of speech, reaching out to stop Eskel.

 Eskel turned back from the door and crouched in front of Geralt, lowering his head to force Geralt to meet his eyes.  “You don’t want me to get Jaskier?”  He asked in disbelief.  He couldn’t understand why Geralt wouldn’t want his Dominant to help him.

 Geralt shook his head, panic joining the shame and making his breathing come in short, quick pants, his pupils blown.

 “All right, I won’t get him.”  Eskel reassured, horrified with himself for having forced Geralt into such a violent subdrop.  He had the sinking feeling he had read Geralt and Jaskier’s relationship all wrong and hurt Geralt as a result.

 Eskel added a hint of his Dominant Voice into his speech in an attempt to help Geralt get his breathing back under control by speaking directly to his subconscious.  “Match my breathing now, Geralt.  In and out, nice and easy.”

 Geralt responded to Eskel’s familiar Voice through his panic and the cold haze caused by the subdrop, doing his best to match Eskel’s breathing.  Eskel slowly, carefully reached out and took Geralt’s hand, holding it onto his chest to help Geralt feel the even rhythm of his breath, praising him for each deeper breath he took.  After what felt like an age, Geralt’s breathing steadied, matching Eskel’s example.

 With his breathing under control again, Eskel encouraged Geralt to move from the floor to the bed, positioning them so they sat side by side, backs resting against the wall, Geralt’s head cushioned on Eskel’s shoulder.  They had spent many nights together like that as children while they recovered from the brutal abuses heaped upon their young bodies in the Trials.  The familiar pose comforted them both.

 When Eskel felt Geralt stop shaking and slump fully onto his shoulder, exhausted by the drop, he spoke.  “Jaskier isn’t your Dom, is he?”

 Geralt shook his head, speech still beyond him.  He knew he should move, that he shouldn’t lean on Eskel like this, but he couldn’t find the strength.  The cold feeling in his chest made his bones ache from the shame of his weakness, at how he’d given in to his base instincts at the first opportunity, forcing Eskel to take care of him instead of waiting for his scheduled drop like he knew he should.

 Eskel closed his eyes, internally berating himself for making assumptions.  “Forgive me, Geralt.  I shouldn’t have assumed.  I should have trusted you to know what you need and asked you about Jaskier before correcting you without cause.”

 Geralt forced himself to speak, sitting up and moving away from Eskel’s warm hold, unwilling to let him blame himself for Geralt’s failings.

 “No, I shouldn’t have done that.  Vesemir taught me better.”

 Eskel’s expression was pained.  “I’m not sure Vesemir is right.  If there’s a trustworthy Dom who can help you during the year, there’s no reason you should have to suffer like this.”

 Geralt shook his head, turning away from Eskel and his words.

 Eskel persisted.  “From what I’ve seen of him and how much he cares for you, I’m sure Jaskier can be trusted with this.  I can’t imagine he would betray you.”  Eskel said gently.

 “It’s not that.”  Geralt said to the wall.

 “Then what is it?”

 “It’s not his duty to take care of me.”  Geralt said flatly.

 Eskel frowned.  “But what if he wants to?”

 Geralt curled in on himself, misery pouring off him in waves.  “I can’t do that to him.  He would feel obliged to take care of me if he knew, but he deserves better.  He deserves a real submissive who’s soft and gentle and everything I’m not.  A house on a hill with a family, a dog, servants, the whole deal.  Not walking the Path with me.”

 Eskel’s heart ached for his brother.  He had seen how the trainers’ actions, how Vesemir’s scheduled drops, had changed Geralt over the past decades.  He’d been a bright, happy child, even throughout their training.  But the strain of nearly a century of deprivation and the brutal, clinical drops Vesemir imposed on him to save his sanity had hardened him, convinced him that there was little more to life than pain and duty.  That meeting his biological needs was a burden imposed upon Vesemir because no one else would deign to help him.  Eskel suspected there was little, if any, aftercare provided in those sessions, leaving Geralt to suffer through a harsh subdrop alone each time. Eskel knew Vesemir did it out of care for Geralt in his own way, that he was calling on practices he’d learned as a young Dominant nearly four hundred years ago, but all the good intentions in the world didn’t spare Geralt the consequences.

 “You should tell him.  Let Jaskier make his own decision about what he wants from his life.” Eskel said finally, knowing it was futile to try and convince Geralt of his own worth.  Or that Vesemir might have been wrong when he decided how Geralt’s submissive side should be handled.

 “No!”  Geralt said sharply, turning a harsh glare on Eskel.  “And don’t you dare tell him either.”  

 Eskel held up his hands, appeasing.  “I wouldn’t do that without your permission and you know it.” Eskel grinned, trying to lighten the mood.  “After all, I still haven’t told Vesemir it was you who put the blackberry juice in his hair oil that one time.”

 Geralt snorted a laugh in spite of himself at the memory of Vesemir’s purple striped hair.  It had taken weeks for the color to fade.  His expression relaxed and he leaned back against Eskel’s shoulder.

 “I’m glad we ran into you, Eskel.”  Geralt said, changing the subject.  “Where will you go next?”

 Eskel followed Geralt’s lead, sitting back and crossing his ankles, enjoying the warmth of his brother at his side. “Probably back south again. There’s plenty of work with all the unrest down in Nilfgaard.  What about you?”

 “Novigrad for now.  Unless I hear of another contract along the way.”

 “And then you’ll work your way back north?”  

 Geralt hummed in agreement.

 “I’ll work my way back east and then start to head north by mid-autumn.  I don’t want to get caught out by a blizzard on the way back to Kaer Morhen like I did last year.” Eskel said, grimacing at the memory.

 Geralt elbowed him, grinning.  “Yeah, you came in looking like a drowned rat.”

 “Oh, shut up.” Eskel said, shoving him lightly away. “Like it’s never happened to you before.”

 They grinned at each other before relaxing again, enjoying the easy, fraternal companionship as they sat side by side, staring into the fire.  Eskel finally broke the silence.  “Best we get some rest before morning.”  He said, moving to lie flat and pulling the blankets up over himself.  Geralt mirrored him, settling down on the other side of the modestly-sized bed.  Eskel extinguished the flame in the candle before casting a controlled Igni to stabilize the banked fire for the night.

 “Show off.”  Geralt muttered.

 “You know it.”  Eskel teased back.

 They lay quietly together until they drifted off to sleep, curled toward each other under the warm blankets just as they had done when they were children.

 -----------------------------

 The next morning, after Eskel gave Jaskier all the details of their hunt over breakfast, they parted company, Jaskier and Geralt heading north toward Novigrad and Eskel heading back south toward Nilfgaard. They stood at the crossroads outside town, each man holding his own horse.

 Geralt and Eskel embraced, pounding each other on the back, Geralt briefly pushing his head up under Eskel’s chin in a brotherly farewell.

 “Think about telling him.  I think you’ll be surprised by how well it goes.”  Eskel whispered in Geralt’s ear before they broke apart. Geralt frowned at him, shaking his head, glad Jaskier couldn’t see his face.

 “Don’t get dead out there.” Geralt said to Eskel. “Walk your Path with honor.”  

 Eskel nodded.  “May your Path be smooth and may your sword strike true.” Eskel said, completing the traditional parting words.

 Eskel turned to Jaskier, pulling him into a rough embrace as well.  Jaskier was surprised at the open affection – he was used to Geralt’s far greater reserve – but he returned the embrace easily.  Eskel was a cheerful, kind soul and Jaskier had come to like him in their short time together.  Hopefully, they would see each other again one day.

 “Take care of this idiot.”  Eskel said, stepping back toward his horse.  

 Jaskier laughed at seeing Geralt roll his eyes. “I’ll try my best!”

 Eskel locked eyes with Jaskier for a moment, the sudden seriousness of his gaze belying his light tone.  Jaskier briefly bowed his head, message received.  He would do his best to care for Geralt in his brother’s place.

 Jaskier sensed there was more going on here than he knew, but he wasn’t sure what yet.  He had his suspicions given Eskel’s protectiveness over Geralt and the fact that Eskel’s tattoo proudly showed off his Dominant’s stripe whereas Geralt’s intricate pattern covered his whole arm, wholly obscuring his mark.  He had seen how Geralt briefly nuzzled under Eskel’s chin too, though he drew no attention to it at the time.  It was common gesture of greeting or farewell among family members, but typically done between submissives and Dominants, with only the rare neutral extending a Dominant relative that same affectionate courtesy. Jaskier didn’t know enough about witcher customs to know if that held true for them, and he certainly wasn’t going to ask Geralt, but he filed the observation away in his mind to analyze when future, contextualizing evidence presented itself.

 With a final wave, Eskel turned south, mounting his black mare and directing her down the main road.  Jaskier and Geralt mounted as well, Potato and Roach happily walking side by side north toward Novigrad.  

 “I hope we run into him again.”  Jaskier said after a moment, looking back at Eskel’s retreating figure.

 “Hm, not likely.  He usually stays in the Southern Kingdoms until he needs to head north for the winter.”

 “Do you each have your own region to patrol?”  Jaskier asked curiously.

 “In a sense.  We each chose the regions we prefer.  With so few of us left, it made sense to break the Continent up and spread our services.”  Geralt answered.

 Jaskier was pleased at the open response and decided to see if he could encourage Geralt to share a bit more while his good mood lasted. “Who patrols each region?”

 Geralt glanced over at him, assessing.  Jaskier kept his gaze open and curious. Satisfied Jaskier’s question was simply as it appeared, he answered. “I stay more toward the western part of the Northern Kingdoms.  Eskel patrols the Southern Kingdoms, as I said, and Vesemir does as well, though he tends to go only in response to a particular contract rather than as a general patrol given his age.  Lambert patrols the eastern side of the Northern Kingdoms.”

 “What’s Lambert like?” Jaskier asked, having caught the oddly painful weight given to Vesemir’s name in Geralt’s response and deciding not to poke at a potential sore spot.

 “He’s an asshole. Arrogant, loud, never shuts up.” Geralt’s tone took on a teasing edge. “You’d probably get along.”

 Jaskier gasped in mock offense.  “You take that back!”

 Geralt grinned at him before spurring Roach into a gallop.  “Make me!” He shouted back.  

 Jaskier urged Potato to follow, knowing the older gelding would never catch the fleet-footed mare, the two horses’ hooves pounding into the dirt as they raced northward to Novigrad.

@thesunshinemanman

@humbae

[ofravensandgenesis]

For Joseph and Jacob: “Remember when we were little?”

A/N: Characters/Verse-Setting: Joseph, Jacob, and surprise! John. That Extra Bitchtm decided to arrive fifteen minutes late with Starbucks, only instead of Starbucks he showed up with what’s likely a ground-to-order specially-sourced artisanal coffee from a reputable microbrewery. It’s vague enough to be a general verse setting, but I do set it in A Cold And Broken Hallelujah given the character builds used for the Seed lads here. Just no mention of the psychic shenanigans.Summary: Joseph tries to talk to Jacob, the morning after he and John had found their eldest brother in a homeless shelter. “Remember when we were little?” with Joseph and Jacob as a prompt from Chyrstis! :D Thank you for the prompt Chyrstis!! :D ♥Content includes: Mild religious content here and there, background implication of child abuse, possible implications of plausibly deniable murder in passing, dark backstory allusions, pretentious coffee, etc.Ao3 link here, to avoid tumblr disaster formatting on mobile.————————————

“Jacob?”Joseph kept his voice quiet and soft, and his footfalls even softer, approaching slowly so as not to startle his older brother. His older brother, once lost, now found.Still lost, deep inside himself.Or perhaps the shrapnel and burn wounds had ripped him open enough for his soul to fly away, leaving only the empty shell that sat on the edge of the bed before him.No. No, it had to be Jacob. It had to be. Jacob was still in there, wasn’t he? He had to be.Jacob didn’t move. Joseph couldn’t see much of his face from behind the curtain of grungy ginger hair, grown overlong as if to hide the man’s identity from the world—or to hide the world from Jacob.Joseph could see enough, though. Could still see how vacant and hollow his eyes were. Jacob had always been so fiery, so alive, so obstinate and insistent that the world look him in the eye and acknowledge that he was alive, that he was real, that he mattered, that he would be heard. That what he stood for mattered.He’d been like a hero from the old stories to Joseph at times when they were young, standing seven feet tall with shoulders squared and a fearless abandon while staring down monsters ten times his size.Jacob had fought, for Joseph and John both, and for so much more—Jacob had fought for his ideals that this—abuse and blood and pain and drunken rages of holy scripture spewed forth like a judge passing sentencing upon the condemned—wasn’t the way the world should be.It hurt to remember how brave and bold Jacob had been once upon a time, to hold that cherished memory up against the silent figure sat hunched and huddled so listlessly before him, shrouded in a dirty parka like a pauper’s corpse wrapped in burlap before being thrown into a hole in the ground to be buried and forgotten.Forgotten by the world, and worst of all—forgotten by Jacob himself.The way he’d looked at Joseph and John last night, when they’d found him in that shelter…it’d looked like Jacob didn’t believe they were really real.

Dead eyes staring out of a living man’s soul.

Jacob‘s expression hadn’t changed at all, even as the minutes passed when he’d woken from the nightmare that had him calling out Joseph and John’s names, among a restless murmured litany of others’ that came and went like the coming and going of ocean tides.He’d sounded so lost, like he was hoping that someone would find him—but the way Jacob’s voice had cracked on the ends of the names in desperate and forlorn despair made it sound like there was no one there.

Joseph had thought that upon waking there’d be a few moments of disbelief, of doubt and skepticism, but that there would be the beginnings of what would eventually be joy at the three brothers’ reunion.But there had been nothing.No light of recognition, no consideration, no reaction. Just…nothing.John at least had reacted, even if he didn’t really accept Joseph yet, still didn’t trust, still harbored that tempest of emotion that only showed in those lightning strike moments and flashes of emotion that crossed his face and in his eyes so rarely still.

Another long minute passed, and still nothing was said.Joseph breathed out a sigh through his nose, trying to keep the sound under wraps, lest it cause Jacob to withdraw even further, if that were possible. Sitting down on the foot of the bed, he considered what he might say that he had not already said to Jacob in the hours of the night before, leading their brother out from the homeless shelter—a place full of ghosts and broken dreams where so many were sent to let their spirits wither and die in the dark. Poor souls. Poor souls like Jacob, thrown away after his years of service to a government that held no love nor care for a child of their homeland.”…do you remember when we were little?” Joseph asked, reaching for perhaps a happy memory that might help Jacob thaw out from beneath the layer of unfeeling snow he’d buried himself alive underneath, down in the depths of his soul. “That time after I’d failed that math test back in elementary school, and you came and found me sitting by the old bill board lot fence?”He waited, but as expected, there was no response. Joseph was certain Jacob was listening, though, deep down, somewhere in there.Joseph remembered it. He wondered if Jacob did—the other boys in class had jeered at him, played keep away while laughing and hurling sing-song taunts at him for having scored a D- on it…even though some of the other boys had done as bad or worse. The result of having a teacher who was only there for a meager paycheck, and not to actually teach, without love or care for the craft.That didn’t mean anything to the other boys, though. No…it was just a flimsy excuse to bully and persecute, even if they were all in the same decrepit boat built out of rotting driftwood. It didn’t matter if it would’ve been better if they’d all banded together to work towards a better future, instead of turning on one another in bestial glee at the shedding of invisible blood—how easy it was for people to dismiss tears, because they ran colorless instead of a dark, crimson red. One wouldn’t die quickly from their soul bleeding out through their eyes, no, but a slow death was so often the crueler option, and despair could kill a man, could drive him to do wicked, wicked things, like he had in his grief.

The teacher had issued an anemic order for the other boys to settle down: neither teaching nor correcting, not protecting nor guiding. The man had only done so because the noise was bothering him at that point. Joseph had gone out at the ringing bell with all the rest, herded out of the school hallways with the other children like droves of cattle being put out to pasture. Anger, shame and hurt had left his cheeks and neck seared red at the time, not from the burning sun but from the pain of being ostracized by his peers. Children could be so cruel to each other, he knew both then and now, but now he knew that it was an unfortunate trait of human nature that even as adults, cruelty was inherent as a part of their humanity. Part of their sin.

He’d turned away from the path leading home, hadn’t wanted to go home to whatever everyday horribleness awaited him there—so often he was indifferent unto weariness about the state of their home. That day hadn’t been one of them. He’d kept walking over the rough, cracked sidewalks, the sun so bright, so bright that the colors of everything bleached out in the white and blue light that flooded down from the heavens overhead. Everything was faded out like a worn poster left out upon the wall, one overlapping another in a sea of many.Joseph remembered how he’d taken refuge in the shadow of one of the bill boards that stood like old trees in the lot, proclaiming the empty signage space to be FOR RENT. He’d sat down with his back against the chain link fence, old backpack beside him, arms crossed upon his knees, head resting upon his forearms, tired and breathing in the dry air full of the smell of dusty earth and the scraggly, tenacious weeds, all wild mustard flowers and foxtail grass.Jacob would be looking for him, probably, Joseph could remember thinking. Joseph hadn’t wanted to wait though. Hadn’t wanted to talk. Jacob would find out, Joseph had reasoned, followed inevitably by Jacob having “words” with the other boys, and then it was just…it was just too much.He didn’t know how long he’d sat there, just breathing in the smell of abandonment and crumbling poverty, slowly being overtaken by nature once more with the slow, dogged persistence of repeating cycles season after season, year after year. Would it ever change? the cycle of school, the cycle of home, day in, day out. Would they escape, when they were older? Would they escape if the survived?Joseph remember how much he’d just wanted…wanted it all to stop. Change. Pause. Anything but repeating all of this, again and again and again and again. He didn’t want this cycle of hurt and numbness to be his entire life. He wanted it to be better. For himself and for Jacob too. Not…this. He was so tired sometimes, but they had to hold on. Had to wait until they were old enough, old enough to be free. But then what?He’d heard footsteps crunching on dirt then, and had tilted his head enough to peek out from over the crook of his elbow to see Jacob, all long limbs in thrift-store-picked clothing and a stolen flannel, with a frown of concern upon his face. Joseph had tucked his head back into the criss-cross of his arms and knees, not wanting to face his older brother. He’d tried to study, and he’d thought maybe he’d done enough, tension eating at him the whole morning like a busy trail of ants crawling up and down a garbage can.But he hadn’t. He didn’t want to disappoint Jacob, even though the rational part of his brain even then had known Jacob wouldn’t be.The footsteps had stopped a foot or so to his side, but Joseph still hadn’t looked up. Hadn’t looked up even at the sound of another backpack thumping softly into the dirt a little farther away and the scritching and rustling of Jacob settling down beside him, the chain link fence swaying slightly as the older boy had rested his weight against it.He hadn’t said anything, for a while. Had probably guessed why Joseph had been so upset. Looking back, Joseph’s heart ached a bit, to think of how much his brother had done for him, and then later John too, when their youngest brother had been born. Jacob had always given so much, to them and then to their country…only to be reduced to nothing, bled out and bled dry.Joseph remembered how Jacob had eventually tilted his head to look at him sidelong to ask, You want a Baby Ruth bar?That, had managed to get young Joseph after a moment’s pause to lift his head just enough to turn it and give his older brother a bemused squint. You don’t have a Baby Ruth bar…do you?No. But I can get one. The smile Jacob had worn then had been wolfish, eyes twinkling with knife-sharp mischief.They’d both known what that entailed.He wasn’t sure if Jacob had ever known how much that little moment of emotional support had meant to Joseph on that day. Joseph hadn’t had the words or the understanding to express it, then and perhaps even now.But it’d meant a lot to him, then and even still now. It was only fair that Joseph tried to return the favor, one of many countless moments where Jacob had stepped in to pick him up when Joseph had faltered. Now it was time for Joseph to try to do the same. ”Do you want a Baby Ruth bar?” He asked, knowing Jacob was listening, if still unresponsive.The seconds ticked by, silent and heavy, and Joseph found himself having to remember to breathe as he sat, hoping, waiting.Then— “You don’t have a Baby Ruth bar, do you.” Those words were rusted and worn, the timbre of Jacob’s voice older and marked with so many miles than Joseph had last heard it clearly, weighed with the trials of the years since he had last heard Jacob speak, speak truly and meaningfully, not in the nightmare-riddled mumbles from last night.He was there. His brother. Jacob.Joseph smiled truly then. “No, but I can go get one.”Jacob turned his head just enough to look at Joseph from the corner of his eye, the curtain of hair shifting just enough to show a faint shift of the corners of his mouth—not quite a smile, the effort too anemic and threadbare to be one, like the muscles in Jacob’s face had forgotten how after years of disuse.Then that first sign of life sputtered out as Jacob’s expression became shuttered once more and he faded back into the dark inside of himself, eyes sliding away to stare through the wall into nothing once again.The smile slid off of Joseph’s face and he was left wondering if this was progress or just the illusion of it. But he had to be patient, had to give Jacob time—Then the door swung open abruptly, and John stood there scowling at the two of them through a pair of blue polarized aviators, his vest, dress shirt, and slacks pressed crisp and fresh as if he was headed to the office, holding a plastic bag in one hand, a coffee tray in the other.“Good, you’re both up and in one place.” He said, sailing into the room with all the self-assurance of the elite and powerful gathered around him like a cloak. “I brought us all breakfast, seeing as neither of you appear to be inclined towards eating out right now.”“John—” Joseph started, frowning a bit, concerned that such…abruptness would just make Jacob retreat further into his shell, but John just continued as if he hadn’t heard Joseph interject at all.“I wasn’t sure what you two wanted, so I took a guess and got what looked good. Joseph, I got you oatmeal with fruit, I know you like that, at least.” There was an almost-judgemental glance at that, because John had noticed Joseph didn’t always eat breakfast. Almost-judgemental, with the threat of turning Definitely-Judgemental if Joseph did skip breakfast, Joseph knew at this point. “There’s also omelets, bacon, hash, french toast, pancakes, sausage, and some fruit salad.”“John that’s too much,” Joseph said, but John just continued ignoring him, pulling out the aforementioned plastic container of still-warm oatmeal to hold it and a spoon resting across the top of the lid out for Joseph to take.“So.” John continued brusquely, turning to look at Jacob with a very deliberate movement, shoulders rolling just enough to make it seem like he was squaring up—and Jacob’s gaze actually flicked up to meet John’s, a faint, contemplative frown verging on a scowl upon his face. That John had gotten any response at all rendered Joseph silent by surprise. “Are you going to help eat the veritable mountain of bacon I brought, Jacob, or are we going to have to have words about wasting food?”John was needling him. John was needling their older brother. Their older brother who was a soldier, undeniably with PTSD, and who had a fiery temper at the best of times.Joseph opened his mouth with the intent to chastise John for being so brash…but then closed it at the sound of a huff from beside him. He turned to look at Jacob.Jacob was smiling, not much more than his earlier attempt, but it was a smile.“Mouthy bastard, aren’t you, John.”“Damn straight I am, I had to walk up here with both hands full, sipping my morning coffee wasn’t an option!” John complained, plucking the coffee cup with the name John written across it in black sharpie to give it a sip, followed by a most exaggerated and satisfied “ah” afterwards. “Not as good as my preferred sourcing, but it will do. Now eat before it all gets any colder.”Jacob actually had an unimpressed look on his face then. “We have a microwave you know. Perhaps you’ve heard of it, or is it because it’s not gold plated that it doesn’t count?”“Microwaving food is for heathens, Jacob. Eat fresh or fuck off.”“Fuck you, microwaves are a legitimate way to cook certain foods and to reheat them, and I don’t recall you objecting to me microwaving your food as a rugrat.”“Brothers,” Joseph started, raising his free hand, the oatmeal container still held in the other, concerned that they were going to start quarreling and this too new fragile peace and connection would come crashing down with screams and yelling and angry words—but again John cut him off.“Shush,” John said, pointing an imperious finger at Joseph. “And start on your oatmeal already. It’ll turn to concrete if you let it get cold. I got this.”Turning his attention back to Jacob, John continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted, “That was then. This is now. I know better and so should you. And if you don’t, allow me to introduce to you the wonders of civilized living…after a shower and a haircut,” John paused, giving Jacob’s disheveled appearance a once over before clearly reaching a disagreeable conclusion, as evidenced by how he made a show of giving a very divisive sniff.“I think you’ve mixed up the word “civilized” with “spoiled,” you pampered brat,” Jacob said, the wryness of his voice taking just a little bit of the edge off, like sparring practice with combat steel—still sharp enough to draw blood, but wielded without the intent to kill.“That’s privileged to you, Jacob, and don’t go thinking that means I’m soft,” John said with a winsome smile that was just a bit too toothy to avoid being threatening as he handed over a container of food with a flourish to his eldest, newfound brother, “people who make that mistake are lucky if they live to regret it, and they do regret it so very profoundly then.”Joseph, who had at last pulled off the top of his food container, frowned as he mixed up the fruit and nuts into his oatmeal, along with a hefty drizzle of maple syrup. He didn’t care for this method at all…but he couldn’t deny the efficacy of it, nor that John was getting results. And...that they were enjoying this bickering with one another, if the competitive gleam in John’s eyes was anything to go by, and the fact that Jacob was actually warming up to all this and actually looking more alive.…it actually made him a touch envious.Still, he was glad that they were all there, at least, even if they were still at odds. Still strangers in many ways…but brothers too.The feeling of anxiousness and disapproval eased in his chest as he listened to John and Jacob banter back and forth over breakfast, testing each other’s mettle and exchanging barbs. It wasn’t what he’d envisioned for their family reunion…but it was something. Something promising. And that, at the very least, was something they all needed, and wanted. They could live with that. Live with that, and thrive, as God had promised him. They could do this. They could do this, together.

[sirjustice461-blog]

car wheel digital compass direction

Yesterday that white man walking with Dogs in Arafat furniture shop at lolwe made like more than 100 missiles and grenade launchers as guns within a tinkle of an eye dude as the raw material was readily available as sample of lolwe households were told to hide/keep their 1 week garbage 4 that work where many where give like 1 of the above to hide in their houses as some went to barren lands around and hid them underground as bury them as much as in the compounds 4 detectives not to unearth the same dude

Far from the above truths other Ugandans around as much as many tourists have made the same above here in East Africa and at agreed time/hour hurl the same on banks and police stations as much as those on vans on the road to create a next volatile state and steal money from such all country banks. As in a war can kill all people who can be corpse and all the army men, Govt can not manage people or overwhelm people who have known how to make machinery as above, with time they will kill all army men like with nucleus bomb, card-boards written with words inserted in garbage and the below inserted as water lilies or coconut stick broom and boom ya bomb bro, unless every1 goes to his land and dialogue given chance is when turmoil can stop dude.

Talk to the devil as in making machines in boom process to give you the map of all planets as with life as well, bearing from earth cities and distance dude. How can the white man know such distances when he has not reached such places dude, daytime lie bro, devil works bro.

Straight city paths as compared to curved town path as of Africa makes you dull and mundane in bed reason why many prefer Africa as not most developed cities as it improves their sex life, much greater sexual appetite and satisfaction than straight roads of most cities as planned cities.

When u place carrot, sausages made out of carrot or catapult Y shaped stick in garbage makes even saucer jets as synonymous with Russian made 1 as u can google both in the boom process.

Angel Gabriel signaling angels about judging facts to take Back to Mr. Hindu was hurled down as in revelation and Peter the rock resumed/took his position as in the links below dude

https://biblehub.com/revelation/12-9.htm

https://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=judgement+of+jesus+in+heaven

When u place maize cob in Garbage like 4 the whole estate and place the above makes even E-air-plane both in the boom process as in the link below dude

https://www.bing.com/images/search?q=electric+passenger+airplane+images&qpvt=electric+passanger+airplane+images&form=IGRE&first=1&scenario=ImageBasicHover&cw=1117&ch=639

Made in Uganda car and plane in the links below

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c_wjymu4dW4

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=23NCVy04iV0

https://www.wired.com/2013/08/electric-airplane-for-sale/

India airplane link as well get a glimpse of what’s in other links below

https://www.bbc.com/news/world-asia-india-41813389            

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uCyymbjzmmc

https://www.wired.com/2007/10/nigerian-studen/https://www.wired.com/2007/10/nigerian-studen/            

https://www.facebook.com/242155683315911/photos/diy-home-made-electric-scooter/242190723312407/              

https://www.amazon.com/slp/electric-remote-control-planes/xzov6h3ve7v85rm  

https://autojosh.com/checkout-our-made-in-nigeria-keke-napep-photos/

https://www.icao.int/environmental-protection/Documents/EnvironmentalReports/2019/ENVReport2019_pg124-130.pdf                  

https://www.autoreportng.com/2019/11/see-amazing-electric-keke-napep-thats.html

https://www.pinterest.com/pin/322851867010892568/

Uganda can be the African richest nation as the best attract you car or gadgets then grab ya mind then suddenly makes u leave the gadget and search 4 the owner is made out of Jack-fruit as Mfenesi in the boom process, not dull or bright but not even cool, falling less of than being cool dude and world nations where such are grown as they can import such, when mixed with rye gives not all that bright machine and that’s its utility, what a perfect combination as synonymous with mercedez cars and u can mix jack-fruit of equal percentage with any fruit, hay, used tires, bottles or chaff used to make gadgets in the boom process. Click the links below 4 more. Jack-fruit as well can be made much in the boom process but her gadgets not the same as of grown 1

https://www.worldatlas.com/articles/world-leaders-in-jackfruit-production.html

https://edis.ifas.ufl.edu/pdffiles/MG/MG37000.pdf

https://smartfarmerkenya.com/4754-2/

https://www.ajfand.net/Volume19/No2/Balamaze17290.pdf

Its 2 fold, u belittle 1 yet he has refused ya gay maneuvers which are well known and nothing pegged on me is bad as guilt whatsoever, if at all i could have died a sibling u could not have learnt automation as Kenya and the rest of poor world could be like in the 80′s dude. Now u talk kinda, pointing 1 but afraid as ya dubious deal faulted meaning i have worn my part as the war. Even if u say i got no money or was crying, the fact remains what u wanted as with jew/Egyptian long dead dude, no immigration of the Negros into ya nation as it more poor than rich than u thought dude. Better that way bro, and on ya side u stop wanting my food even wanting to ambush me on the roads. Selling artificial oil, gas, foods and exhuming caskets long gone even opening shops 4 petty theft and even illicit money online that u use to get those women u want. They fear as they can be attacked with other nations the belittled and at the same time have gotten leverage of making gadget so confident of the future not to get into the hard life they lived 20years back. They wanna get to 1 country yet those in their sphere they mistreat as above, so them also to take heed in other peoples nation. Scratch my back i scratch yours lets u r annihilated to be animals not human beings dude

Wanting all free from me but not even a single from them and that can not happen and they have gotten it dude. Kenya will never be rich than even SA and u got it dude and it hurts cause have waiting 4 along time. Charles Darwin theories hoax as Judgement and Hell found along Chicago Ave Minneapolis, MN. Me i have rewritten books as dismissed many laws many have studied in books without rest, waking up at night to master them as lies and u have submitted to the same and so fellows who is great, me or u? With ya u only abuse me in circles which do not gain international accreditation b4 u realize that am above ya to plan my ambush or claim that am of ya tribe yet we got DNA dude. U can be all killed and Nyanza and luo dialect remains with me to dispose it bro. Whats the hoot dude, even after ya death and having received formalin injection if u repent when people hear or record to post on YouTube, Fb or any social media fraternity 4 people to retrieve and hear u find ya way to heaven, so Mr Hindu we know clearly the remedy to what u r championing dude, so better stop. If u say the truck with belt water pump that harbor Ae technology is just made while other knows about it when it started operation then what u have been saying on people as seeing in ya eye are all lies pegged on the above case, so stop dude and accept triumph Mr Hindu, stop wanting my food again yet previously u belittled me, meaning u r insane to get by as the gimmick maybe dude. People also transfigure to images of others to implicate ya dude. Koth/seed mar chwa/okwaju treats aids dude, Nyamau fresh mouth herb can be made much as the leaves or roots as well as stem in the boom process by placing coconut African broom stick, pineapple, carrot, pumpkin, water lilies, charcoal water, orange fruit outer peel or sweet potato both in the boom process and with any food to be made much artificially dude. No worry in Africa dude when the above learnt as much as temperate lands in winter when oil finishes but we got away to replace Africa solar as E-car dude  

Built in Uganda airline by KEBI in the link below as well as E-Norwegian airplane

http://bazzukulubabuganda.com/enyonyi_ezibuuka_eza_uganda_airlines.html

https://www.theguardian.com/world/2018/jan/18/norway-aims-for-all-short-haul-flights-to-be-100-electric-by-2040

Am the Victor dude, Now u cant just talk with mouth wide open even if i die dude and that’s it homey. Shut that previously smelling mouth which my relentless efforts made much fresh 4 people to draw close to ya and wife not to divorce ya dude. Kebi saved ya ass big time dude

With making like Manhattan Island on water, u can use the armored glass as its much strong and rot not dude, where such is made out of Garbage, placed on it cut flower sample then hurl cold water and boom ya size u want armored glass as the devil can give you every road and street as much as cultivate lawns and sky scrapper if u draw all such not making later after the island is formed. The Kora brown translucence stone is the hardest and can be used to make our roads and buildings more than the normal 1, when sample of such place in garbage or cut diagonal such photos as in the link below placed then u spit saliva in the boom process and ya kora stone formed.

https://www.gettyimages.com/photos/stone-object?mediatype=photography&phrase=stone%20object&sort=mostpopular

https://www.google.com/search?source=univ&tbm=isch&q=images+of+gravel&client=ms-google-coop&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjhyvrthpDrAhWmDmMBHaQvCWUQsAR6BAgKEAE&biw=1280&bih=891

https://www.google.com/search?client=ms-google-coop&q=images+of+mango+seed

Take city garbage like collected 4 a week and mix with much water, then insert pieces of lemon into it, then spit saliva and in the boom process makes ya gravel, u can mix with sewer water 4 black dark ones which if u place in the boom process solutions as dough, hay, cereals or fruits makes any electrical gadget as home appliances, office furniture and appliances or cars when placed in the boom process as we place water lilies, orange outer peel, charcoal, coconut African broom etc. Even grains of fruits as lemons, oranges, mango, paw paw makes electronic when the above gravel piece placed while When u place dry mango seed, cassava pieces, avocado seed, cut ripe banana, jack-fruit yellow inside and maize in solutions that makes jets or sugar makes such in the boom process dude.

Chamama made gadgets grows wide ya face and makes u pimply but chamama made paints in the boom process are 1 of the coolest, so buy like a car made out of ripe mango, remove the paint and applies chamama made paint as explained above while cars made out of jackfruit if u draw close to them u see, kinda, tiny gray dots as tints and its known that way where people loving such hate the reverse as of chamama that draws u to it not as of rye that does the exact reverse. Most Jackfruit made gadget lovers love not smooth things as paints as many Arab women git such wide, non perforated type of skin, but of jackfruit which is like skin of people with tiny holes as sweet pores or goose pimply skinned people out of awe or 1 pumping cold moments to ya, hard to explain but at least gotten it dude. With paw paw made gadgets, people see u as loving ya self and self alone and even with paints. So dude, explore ya option b4 u come up with the car u drive to maintain respect and if wrong choice, remove paint as above and apply another as above. AS in the song link below

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LL__exAp76A

With pumpkin made like car is 4 the young who wants to be big or wanting other people 4 love who are aged than them, if u drive such cars, such women pity u as can consider ya and most preferably good with tiny or small car but not suv as the reverse is of jack-fruit made 1 dude. Got to know this, don’t just claim u r up to kids, thinking it will get always with u and no-where can overtake ya, don’t just be bongo lala, just there, wanting good as women always wants from men dude. Don’t get into women without nothing 4 society to have pity on ya.

When though as above ya plans cant be blocked or known as with Britain, will always be like that, as u want not people to tell ya and u want to control them as is only u who knows how to behave not them, when it goes bad with u, get to my position when u were above me not vice versa wanting from me to the of being like a kid, dude beware it will be the scene of this series movie where the black woman who was frustrated aiming the gun at his boss who knows how to see/look previously when his dubious ways had not been known as in the link below but UK people now don’t fear their cities being overtaken as they can expand Landon by building another Manhattan city island or residential land on its Atlantic coast as explained above. Put smile in ya face as the problem will solve it self as Landon is said to be crowded dude

https://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=the+old+guard+series+scenes

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4ScfkduNTbo

Luo people like bibo, have u acknowledged am above u in thinking— hamano, hehe, have u dude, that way dude. I wanna hear the phrase ““we acknowledge u r above us dude“ again and again, Hamano and thats respect, where am snoring u dont come along and dude the same, got me dude, Hamano, Without me u could be still living in shanties and ya life could not have changed as now, True or false, that way dude, en hamamo, saying looking downward as a woman being seduced dude and that’s how it ought to be fro beginning.

$50 toy drone Kebi demolished as he bought just to find how it works and tells you. Men if u know shit stop cashing into 1 life, u can cash into his life yet get to hell as him gets to heaven as being in hell is only 1 week and rather hell so u r erased out the book of life. Decision yours dude. Just standing in hell no sweet thing as Kekvin out of curse, better kill every1 with siren gas so every1 gets to judgement 4 the world to start again, rather than this way which will never end as we got other planets as well. Other planet maps, white burnt wood fumes mixed with much water then raw mango pies placed in the boom process then the devil explain to ya in details whereabouts of other planets as distance from earth, its radius and continents in it. Jivu/wivu as Jealousy dude

Click the link below 4 more dude, of wanna bees/kich/nyuki, beatitudes with Christ bro

https://whitepeopletwitter.tumblr.com/post/626023511695212544

Car wheel digital compass direction as in the link below to aid new road users to reduce traffic accidents as it shows ya when wheel is not in straight position to take it back or bends demarcated as with how much to turn the wheel to negotiate such bends or corners

https://www.alibaba.com/product-detail/2018-digital-led-battery-table-clock_60022095009.html

Counterfeit products, make a bar code software on phones to detect the same when no company placed automated vending machine.

They now champion less kids not as earlier as to increase a/c no that can withdraw cash from 2goinvoice which name has been changed and not told many people as it can be like its predecessor dude.

Nyagot NAIROBI commuter buses belongs to Kebi adopted mother, as many have known now cropping the town as Arabs and whites wanting it easy from him yet he is very categorical in his stand that’s not his biological mother but happy are we as DNA has been done. White people stop that shit, take it to another some1 bro. Don’t turn back like the Russians are doing continue being rude as always and sponsoring hooliganism do not relent girl. Told them how motor bike spare parts made as much as vehicle, managed to make the same sell and be rich dude

Even chamama leaves and succulent seed part makes 1 of the best paints and cars that neither draws people away from it or to it but just there, not deemed kiddish or youth or too much grown but just there dude.

If getting out was my way out, getting out i will get out, no 1 whom am more than can bar me and get me straight getting out i will get out even u Mr Hindu, Kikuyu or Russian if u don’t shoot me, getting out i will dude, u cant stop me bro. U can prolong ya ejaculation but not my getting out bro wanting to reap where u did not saw youngling.

Portacabin housed in the links below made by Garbage inserted inside water lilies or dry cassava/white sweet potato pieces or all named in sirjustice390 tumblr a/c in the boom process. Make such 4 ya citizen and place in credit dude to eliminate always up-to ya house syndrome to judge ya dude, or cut the photo diagonally even 4 inside rooms with same measuring scale, making the foundation and placing garbage on dug ditches and boom ya house and 4 container u just place in open air and save the ass of ya tribe dude big time

http://zigmacabin.com/index.php?route=product/product&product_id=85

https://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.harwalshelters.com%2Fproducts%2FewExternalFiles%2FPortacabin%2520office.png&imgrefurl=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.harwalshelters.com%2Fproducts%2Fporta-cabins.html&tbnid=4OYsNB7sHkzNcM&vet=10CHwQMyiiAWoXChMI-J_jpt-L6wIVAAAAAB0AAAAAEAk..i&docid=ANAHWBwy-vrgQM&w=1356&h=630&q=cameroon%20made%20portacabin%20houses%20images&client=firefox-b-d&ved=0CHwQMyiiAWoXChMI-J_jpt-L6wIVAAAAAB0AAAAAEAk

https://www.ridaportablecabins.com/portable-cabin.html

https://dir.exporthub.com/supplier/prefabricated-houses-structures.html

https://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http%3A%2F%2Fzigmacabin.com%2Fimage%2Fcache%2Fcatalog%2Fproduct%2Fportable-cabin%2Fportable-office-cabin2-900x600.jpg&imgrefurl=http%3A%2F%2Fzigmacabin.com%2Findex.php%3Froute%3Dproduct%2Fproduct%26product_id%3D45&tbnid=CCAUiUZTtBnv4M&vet=10CK8BEDMougFqFwoTCPif46bfi-sCFQAAAAAdAAAAABAJ..i&docid=sVNOsWLSpK04nM&w=900&h=600&q=cameroon%20made%20portacabin%20houses%20images&client=firefox-b-d&ved=0CK8BEDMougFqFwoTCPif46bfi-sCFQAAAAAdAAAAABAJ

https://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=https%3A%2F%2Fs.alicdn.com%2F%40sc01%2Fkf%2FHTB1pNCQQVXXXXb2XFXXq6xXFXXXI.jpg&imgrefurl=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.alibaba.com%2Fcountrysearch%2FCN%2Fportable-cabins-for-sale.html&tbnid=DhYyCJ7SbGXPqM&vet=10CFsQMyiSAWoXChMI-J_jpt-L6wIVAAAAAB0AAAAAEAk..i&docid=ioRgx3xF3r9JuM&w=1000&h=1000&itg=1&q=cameroon%20made%20portacabin%20houses%20images&client=firefox-b-d&ved=0CFsQMyiSAWoXChMI-J_jpt-L6wIVAAAAAB0AAAAAEAk

https://www.alibaba.com/countrysearch/CN/house-construction.html

https://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=https%3A%2F%2Fs.alicdn.com%2F%40sc01%2Fkf%2FH4d6a605168574975a2a16f157a5855bbh.jpg_300x300.jpg&imgrefurl=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.alibaba.com%2Fcountrysearch%2FCN%2Fhouse-construction.html&tbnid=zN4NXc7czBDCTM&vet=10CAQQxiAoAmoXChMI-J_jpt-L6wIVAAAAAB0AAAAAEAc..i&docid=LiuIos6XQcko1M&w=300&h=300&itg=1&q=cameroon%20made%20portacabin%20houses%20images&client=firefox-b-d&ved=0CAQQxiAoAmoXChMI-J_jpt-L6wIVAAAAAB0AAAAAEAc

https://www.google.com/search?q=cameroon+made+portacabin+houses+images&tbm=isch&ved=2ahUKEwj4hvqS34vrAhUKhhoKHTRMDCkQ2-cCegQIABAA&oq=cameroon+made+portacabin+houses+images&gs_lcp=CgNpbWcQA1D3cFjMkgFg8ZsBaABwAHgAgAHFA4gBsxSSAQkwLjUuNC4xLjGYAQCgAQGqAQtnd3Mtd2l6LWltZ8ABAQ&sclient=img&ei=rawuX7j8LoqMarSYscgC&bih=654&biw=1024&client=firefox-b-d

https://www.google.com/search?source=univ&tbm=isch&q=sa+made+portacabin+houses+images&client=firefox-b-d&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwigiPXt44vrAhWGERQKHS9ECV4QsAR6BAgKEAE&biw=1024&bih=654

[sirjustice460-blog]

it even calls 4 machiete

Yesterday that white man walking with Dogs in Arafat furniture shop at lolwe made like more than 100 missiles and grenade launchers as guns within a tinkle of an eye dude as the raw material was readily available as sample of lolwe households were told to hide/keep their 1 week garbage 4 that work where many where give like 1 of the above to hide in their houses as some went to barren lands around and hid them underground as bury them as much as in the compounds 4 detectives not to unearth the same dude

Far from the above truths other Ugandans around as much as many tourists have made the same above here in East Africa and at agreed time/hour hurl the same on banks and police stations as much as those on vans on the road to create a next volatile state and steal money from such all country banks. As in a war can kill all people who can be corpse and all the army men, Govt can not manage people or overwhelm people who have known how to make machinery as above, with time they will kill all army men like with nucleus bomb, card-boards written with words inserted in garbage and the below inserted as water lilies or coconut stick broom and boom ya bomb bro, unless every1 goes to his land and dialogue given chance is when turmoil can stop dude.

Talk to the devil as in making machines in boom process to give you the map of all planets as with life as well, bearing from earth cities and distance dude. How can the white man know such distances when he has not reached such places dude, daytime lie bro, devil works bro.

Straight city paths as compared to curved town path as of Africa makes you dull and mundane in bed reason why many prefer Africa as not most developed cities as it improves their sex life, much greater sexual appetite and satisfaction than straight roads of most cities as planned cities.

When u place carrot, sausages made out of carrot or catapult Y shaped stick in garbage makes even saucer jets as synonymous with Russian made 1 as u can google both in the boom process.

Angel Gabriel signaling angels about judging facts to take Back to Mr. Hindu was hurled down as in revelation and Peter the rock resumed/took his position as in the links below dude

https://biblehub.com/revelation/12-9.htm

https://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=judgement+of+jesus+in+heaven

When u place maize cob in Garbage like 4 the whole estate and place the above makes even E-air-plane both in the boom process as in the link below dude

https://www.bing.com/images/search?q=electric+passenger+airplane+images&qpvt=electric+passanger+airplane+images&form=IGRE&first=1&scenario=ImageBasicHover&cw=1117&ch=639

Made in Uganda car and plane in the links below

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c_wjymu4dW4

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=23NCVy04iV0

https://www.wired.com/2013/08/electric-airplane-for-sale/

India airplane link as well get a glimpse of what’s in other links below

https://www.bbc.com/news/world-asia-india-41813389            

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uCyymbjzmmc

https://www.wired.com/2007/10/nigerian-studen/https://www.wired.com/2007/10/nigerian-studen/            

https://www.facebook.com/242155683315911/photos/diy-home-made-electric-scooter/242190723312407/              

https://www.amazon.com/slp/electric-remote-control-planes/xzov6h3ve7v85rm  

https://autojosh.com/checkout-our-made-in-nigeria-keke-napep-photos/

https://www.icao.int/environmental-protection/Documents/EnvironmentalReports/2019/ENVReport2019_pg124-130.pdf                  

https://www.autoreportng.com/2019/11/see-amazing-electric-keke-napep-thats.html

https://www.pinterest.com/pin/322851867010892568/

Uganda can be the African richest nation as the best attract you car or gadgets then grab ya mind then suddenly makes u leave the gadget and search 4 the owner is made out of Jack-fruit as Mfenesi in the boom process, not dull or bright but not even cool, falling less of than being cool dude and world nations where such are grown as they can import such, when mixed with rye gives not all that bright machine and that’s its utility, what a perfect combination as synonymous with mercedez cars and u can mix jack-fruit of equal percentage with any fruit, hay, used tires, bottles or chaff used to make gadgets in the boom process. Click the links below 4 more. Jack-fruit as well can be made much in the boom process but her gadgets not the same as of grown 1

https://www.worldatlas.com/articles/world-leaders-in-jackfruit-production.html

https://edis.ifas.ufl.edu/pdffiles/MG/MG37000.pdf

https://smartfarmerkenya.com/4754-2/

https://www.ajfand.net/Volume19/No2/Balamaze17290.pdf

Its 2 fold, u belittle 1 yet he has refused ya gay maneuvers which are well known and nothing pegged on me is bad as guilt whatsoever, if at all i could have died a sibling u could not have learnt automation as Kenya and the rest of poor world could be like in the 80′s dude. Now u talk kinda, pointing 1 but afraid as ya dubious deal faulted meaning i have worn my part as the war. Even if u say i got no money or was crying, the fact remains what u wanted as with jew/Egyptian long dead dude, no immigration of the Negros into ya nation as it more poor than rich than u thought dude. Better that way bro, and on ya side u stop wanting my food even wanting to ambush me on the roads. Selling artificial oil, gas, foods and exhuming caskets long gone even opening shops 4 petty theft and even illicit money online that u use to get those women u want. They fear as they can be attacked with other nations the belittled and at the same time have gotten leverage of making gadget so confident of the future not to get into the hard life they lived 20years back. They wanna get to 1 country yet those in their sphere they mistreat as above, so them also to take heed in other peoples nation. Scratch my back i scratch yours lets u r annihilated to be animals not human beings dude

Wanting all free from me but not even a single from them and that can not happen and they have gotten it dude. Kenya will never be rich than even SA and u got it dude and it hurts cause have waiting 4 along time. Charles Darwin theories hoax as Judgement and Hell found along Chicago Ave Minneapolis, MN. Me i have rewritten books as dismissed many laws many have studied in books without rest, waking up at night to master them as lies and u have submitted to the same and so fellows who is great, me or u? With ya u only abuse me in circles which do not gain international accreditation b4 u realize that am above ya to plan my ambush or claim that am of ya tribe yet we got DNA dude. U can be all killed and Nyanza and luo dialect remains with me to dispose it bro. Whats the hoot dude, even after ya death and having received formalin injection if u repent when people hear or record to post on YouTube, Fb or any social media fraternity 4 people to retrieve and hear u find ya way to heaven, so Mr Hindu we know clearly the remedy to what u r championing dude, so better stop. If u say the truck with belt water pump that harbor Ae technology is just made while other knows about it when it started operation then what u have been saying on people as seeing in ya eye are all lies pegged on the above case, so stop dude and accept triumph Mr Hindu, stop wanting my food again yet previously u belittled me, meaning u r insane to get by as the gimmick maybe dude. People also transfigure to images of others to implicate ya dude. Koth/seed mar chwa/okwaju treats aids dude, Nyamau fresh mouth herb can be made much as the leaves or roots as well as stem in the boom process by placing coconut African broom stick, pineapple, carrot, pumpkin, water lilies, charcoal water, orange fruit outer peel or sweet potato both in the boom process and with any food to be made much artificially dude. No worry in Africa dude when the above learnt as much as temperate lands in winter when oil finishes but we got away to replace Africa solar as E-car dude  

Built in Uganda airline by KEBI in the link below as well as E-Norwegian airplane

http://bazzukulubabuganda.com/enyonyi_ezibuuka_eza_uganda_airlines.html

https://www.theguardian.com/world/2018/jan/18/norway-aims-for-all-short-haul-flights-to-be-100-electric-by-2040

Am the Victor dude, Now u cant just talk with mouth wide open even if i die dude and that’s it homey. Shut that previously smelling mouth which my relentless efforts made much fresh 4 people to draw close to ya and wife not to divorce ya dude. Kebi saved ya ass big time dude

With making like Manhattan Island on water, u can use the armored glass as its much strong and rot not dude, where such is made out of Garbage, placed on it cut flower sample then hurl cold water and boom ya size u want armored glass as the devil can give you every road and street as much as cultivate lawns and sky scrapper if u draw all such not making later after the island is formed. The Kora brown translucence stone is the hardest and can be used to make our roads and buildings more than the normal 1, when sample of such place in garbage or cut diagonal such photos as in the link below placed then u spit saliva in the boom process and ya kora stone formed.

https://www.gettyimages.com/photos/stone-object?mediatype=photography&phrase=stone%20object&sort=mostpopular

https://www.google.com/search?source=univ&tbm=isch&q=images+of+gravel&client=ms-google-coop&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjhyvrthpDrAhWmDmMBHaQvCWUQsAR6BAgKEAE&biw=1280&bih=891

https://www.google.com/search?client=ms-google-coop&q=images+of+mango+seed

Take city garbage like collected 4 a week and mix with much water, then insert pieces of lemon into it, then spit saliva and in the boom process makes ya gravel, u can mix with sewer water 4 black dark ones which if u place in the boom process solutions as dough, hay, cereals or fruits makes any electrical gadget as home appliances, office furniture and appliances or cars when placed in the boom process as we place water lilies, orange outer peel, charcoal, coconut African broom etc. Even grains of fruits as lemons, oranges, mango, paw paw makes electronic when the above gravel piece placed while When u place dry mango seed, cassava pieces, avocado seed, cut ripe banana, jack-fruit yellow inside and maize in solutions that makes jets or sugar makes such in the boom process dude.

Chamama made gadgets grows wide ya face and makes u pimply but chamama made paints in the boom process are 1 of the coolest, so buy like a car made out of ripe mango, remove the paint and applies chamama made paint as explained above while cars made out of jackfruit if u draw close to them u see, kinda, tiny gray dots as tints and its known that way where people loving such hate the reverse as of chamama that draws u to it not as of rye that does the exact reverse. Most Jackfruit made gadget lovers love not smooth things as paints as many Arab women git such wide, non perforated type of skin, but of jackfruit which is like skin of people with tiny holes as sweet pores or goose pimply skinned people out of awe or 1 pumping cold moments to ya, hard to explain but at least gotten it dude. With paw paw made gadgets, people see u as loving ya self and self alone and even with paints. So dude, explore ya option b4 u come up with the car u drive to maintain respect and if wrong choice, remove paint as above and apply another as above. AS in the song link below

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LL__exAp76A

With pumpkin made like car is 4 the young who wants to be big or wanting other people 4 love who are aged than them, if u drive such cars, such women pity u as can consider ya and most preferably good with tiny or small car but not suv as the reverse is of jack-fruit made 1 dude. Got to know this, don't just claim u r up to kids, thinking it will get always with u and no-where can overtake ya, don't just be bongo lala, just there, wanting good as women always wants from men dude. Don’t get into women without nothing 4 society to have pity on ya.

When though as above ya plans cant be blocked or known as with Britain, will always be like that, as u want not people to tell ya and u want to control them as is only u who knows how to behave not them, when it goes bad with u, get to my position when u were above me not vice versa wanting from me to the of being like a kid, dude beware it will be the scene of this series movie where the black woman who was frustrated aiming the gun at his boss who knows how to see/look previously when his dubious ways had not been known as in the link below but UK people now don't fear their cities being overtaken as they can expand Landon by building another Manhattan city island or residential land on its Atlantic coast as explained above. Put smile in ya face as the problem will solve it self as Landon is said to be crowded dude

https://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=the+old+guard+series+scenes

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4ScfkduNTbo

Luo people like bibo, have u acknowledged am above u in thinking--- hamano, hehe, have u dude, that way dude. I wanna hear the phrase ““we acknowledge u r above us dude“ again and again, Hamano and thats respect, where am snoring u dont come along and dude the same, got me dude, Hamano, Without me u could be still living in shanties and ya life could not have changed as now, True or false, that way dude, en hamamo, saying looking downward as a woman being seduced dude and that's how it ought to be fro beginning.

$50 toy drone Kebi demolished as he bought just to find how it works and tells you. Men if u know shit stop cashing into 1 life, u can cash into his life yet get to hell as him gets to heaven as being in hell is only 1 week and rather hell so u r erased out the book of life. Decision yours dude. Just standing in hell no sweet thing as Kekvin out of curse, better kill every1 with siren gas so every1 gets to judgement 4 the world to start again, rather than this way which will never end as we got other planets as well. Other planet maps, white burnt wood fumes mixed with much water then raw mango pies placed in the boom process then the devil explain to ya in details whereabouts of other planets as distance from earth, its radius and continents in it. Jivu/wivu as Jealousy dude

Click the link below 4 more dude, of wanna bees/kich/nyuki, beatitudes with Christ bro

https://whitepeopletwitter.tumblr.com/post/626023511695212544

Counterfeit products, make a bar code software on phones to detect the same when no company placed automated vending machine.

They now champion less kids not as earlier as to increase a/c no that can withdraw cash from 2goinvoice which name has been changed and not told many people as it can be like its predecessor dude.

Nyagot NAIROBI commuter buses belongs to Kebi adopted mother, as many have known now cropping the town as Arabs and whites wanting it easy from him yet he is very categorical in his stand that’s not his biological mother but happy are we as DNA has been done. White people stop that shit, take it to another some1 bro. Don’t turn back like the Russians are doing continue being rude as always and sponsoring hooliganism do not relent girl. Told them how motor bike spare parts made as much as vehicle, managed to make the same sell and be rich dude

Even chamama leaves and succulent seed part makes 1 of the best paints and cars that neither draws people away from it or to it but just there, not deemed kiddish or youth or too much grown but just there dude.

If getting out was my way out, getting out i will get out, no 1 whom am more than can bar me and get me straight getting out i will get out even u Mr Hindu, Kikuyu or Russian if u don’t shoot me, getting out i will dude, u cant stop me bro. U can prolong ya ejaculation but not my getting out bro wanting to reap where u did not saw youngling.

Portacabin housed in the links below made by Garbage inserted inside water lilies or dry cassava/white sweet potato pieces or all named in sirjustice390 tumblr a/c in the boom process. Make such 4 ya citizen and place in credit dude to eliminate always up-to ya house syndrome to judge ya dude, or cut the photo diagonally even 4 inside rooms with same measuring scale, making the foundation and placing garbage on dug ditches and boom ya house and 4 container u just place in open air and save the ass of ya tribe dude big time

http://zigmacabin.com/index.php?route=product/product&product_id=85

https://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.harwalshelters.com%2Fproducts%2FewExternalFiles%2FPortacabin%2520office.png&imgrefurl=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.harwalshelters.com%2Fproducts%2Fporta-cabins.html&tbnid=4OYsNB7sHkzNcM&vet=10CHwQMyiiAWoXChMI-J_jpt-L6wIVAAAAAB0AAAAAEAk..i&docid=ANAHWBwy-vrgQM&w=1356&h=630&q=cameroon%20made%20portacabin%20houses%20images&client=firefox-b-d&ved=0CHwQMyiiAWoXChMI-J_jpt-L6wIVAAAAAB0AAAAAEAk

https://www.ridaportablecabins.com/portable-cabin.html

https://dir.exporthub.com/supplier/prefabricated-houses-structures.html

https://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http%3A%2F%2Fzigmacabin.com%2Fimage%2Fcache%2Fcatalog%2Fproduct%2Fportable-cabin%2Fportable-office-cabin2-900x600.jpg&imgrefurl=http%3A%2F%2Fzigmacabin.com%2Findex.php%3Froute%3Dproduct%2Fproduct%26product_id%3D45&tbnid=CCAUiUZTtBnv4M&vet=10CK8BEDMougFqFwoTCPif46bfi-sCFQAAAAAdAAAAABAJ..i&docid=sVNOsWLSpK04nM&w=900&h=600&q=cameroon%20made%20portacabin%20houses%20images&client=firefox-b-d&ved=0CK8BEDMougFqFwoTCPif46bfi-sCFQAAAAAdAAAAABAJ

https://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=https%3A%2F%2Fs.alicdn.com%2F%40sc01%2Fkf%2FHTB1pNCQQVXXXXb2XFXXq6xXFXXXI.jpg&imgrefurl=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.alibaba.com%2Fcountrysearch%2FCN%2Fportable-cabins-for-sale.html&tbnid=DhYyCJ7SbGXPqM&vet=10CFsQMyiSAWoXChMI-J_jpt-L6wIVAAAAAB0AAAAAEAk..i&docid=ioRgx3xF3r9JuM&w=1000&h=1000&itg=1&q=cameroon%20made%20portacabin%20houses%20images&client=firefox-b-d&ved=0CFsQMyiSAWoXChMI-J_jpt-L6wIVAAAAAB0AAAAAEAk

https://www.alibaba.com/countrysearch/CN/house-construction.html

https://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=https%3A%2F%2Fs.alicdn.com%2F%40sc01%2Fkf%2FH4d6a605168574975a2a16f157a5855bbh.jpg_300x300.jpg&imgrefurl=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.alibaba.com%2Fcountrysearch%2FCN%2Fhouse-construction.html&tbnid=zN4NXc7czBDCTM&vet=10CAQQxiAoAmoXChMI-J_jpt-L6wIVAAAAAB0AAAAAEAc..i&docid=LiuIos6XQcko1M&w=300&h=300&itg=1&q=cameroon%20made%20portacabin%20houses%20images&client=firefox-b-d&ved=0CAQQxiAoAmoXChMI-J_jpt-L6wIVAAAAAB0AAAAAEAc

https://www.google.com/search?q=cameroon+made+portacabin+houses+images&tbm=isch&ved=2ahUKEwj4hvqS34vrAhUKhhoKHTRMDCkQ2-cCegQIABAA&oq=cameroon+made+portacabin+houses+images&gs_lcp=CgNpbWcQA1D3cFjMkgFg8ZsBaABwAHgAgAHFA4gBsxSSAQkwLjUuNC4xLjGYAQCgAQGqAQtnd3Mtd2l6LWltZ8ABAQ&sclient=img&ei=rawuX7j8LoqMarSYscgC&bih=654&biw=1024&client=firefox-b-d

https://www.google.com/search?source=univ&tbm=isch&q=sa+made+portacabin+houses+images&client=firefox-b-d&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwigiPXt44vrAhWGERQKHS9ECV4QsAR6BAgKEAE&biw=1024&bih=654

[sirjustice459-blog]

Ya decision like with Jesus &  Judgement Angel

Yesterday that white man walking with Dogs in Arafat furniture shop at lolwe made like more than 100 missiles and grenade launchers as guns within a tinkle of an eye dude as the raw material was readily available as sample of lolwe households were told to hide/keep their 1 week garbage 4 that work where many where give like 1 of the above to hide in their houses as some went to barren lands around and hid them underground as bury them as much as in the compounds 4 detectives not to unearth the same dude

Far from the above truths other Ugandans around as much as many tourists have made the same above here in East Africa and at agreed time/hour hurl the same on banks and police stations as much as those on vans on the road to create a next volatile state and steal money from such all country banks. As in a war can kill all people who can be corpse and all the army men, Govt can not manage people or overwhelm people who have known how to make machinery as above, with time they will kill all army men like with nucleus bomb, card-boards written with words inserted in garbage and the below inserted as water lilies or coconut stick broom and boom ya bomb bro, unless every1 goes to his land and dialogue given chance is when turmoil can stop dude.

Talk to the devil as in making machines in boom process to give you the map of all planets as with life as well, bearing from earth cities and distance dude. How can the white man know such distances when he has not reached such places dude, daytime lie bro, devil works bro.

Straight city paths as compared to curved town path as of Africa makes you dull and mundane in bed reason why many prefer Africa as not most developed cities as it improves their sex life, much greater sexual appetite and satisfaction than straight roads of most cities as planned cities.

When u place carrot, sausages made out of carrot or catapult Y shaped stick in garbage makes even saucer jets as synonymous with Russian made 1 as u can google both in the boom process.

Angel Gabriel signaling angels about judging facts to take Back to Mr. Hindu was hurled down as in revelation and Peter the rock resumed/took his position as in the links below dude

https://biblehub.com/revelation/12-9.htm

https://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=judgement+of+jesus+in+heaven

When u place maize cob in Garbage like 4 the whole estate and place the above makes even E-air-plane both in the boom process as in the link below dude

https://www.bing.com/images/search?q=electric+passenger+airplane+images&qpvt=electric+passanger+airplane+images&form=IGRE&first=1&scenario=ImageBasicHover&cw=1117&ch=639

Made in Uganda car and plane in the links below

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c_wjymu4dW4

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=23NCVy04iV0

https://www.wired.com/2013/08/electric-airplane-for-sale/

India airplane link as well get a glimpse of what’s in other links below

https://www.bbc.com/news/world-asia-india-41813389            

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uCyymbjzmmc

https://www.wired.com/2007/10/nigerian-studen/https://www.wired.com/2007/10/nigerian-studen/            

https://www.facebook.com/242155683315911/photos/diy-home-made-electric-scooter/242190723312407/              

https://www.amazon.com/slp/electric-remote-control-planes/xzov6h3ve7v85rm  

https://autojosh.com/checkout-our-made-in-nigeria-keke-napep-photos/

https://www.icao.int/environmental-protection/Documents/EnvironmentalReports/2019/ENVReport2019_pg124-130.pdf                  

https://www.autoreportng.com/2019/11/see-amazing-electric-keke-napep-thats.html

https://www.pinterest.com/pin/322851867010892568/

Uganda can be the African richest nation as the best attract you car or gadgets then grab ya mind then suddenly makes u leave the gadget and search 4 the owner is made out of Jack-fruit as Mfenesi in the boom process, not dull or bright but not even cool, falling less of than being cool dude and world nations where such are grown as they can import such, when mixed with rye gives not all that bright machine and that’s its utility, what a perfect combination as synonymous with mercedez cars and u can mix jack-fruit of equal percentage with any fruit, hay, used tires, bottles or chaff used to make gadgets in the boom process. Click the links below 4 more. Jack-fruit as well can be made much in the boom process but her gadgets not the same as of grown 1

https://www.worldatlas.com/articles/world-leaders-in-jackfruit-production.html

https://edis.ifas.ufl.edu/pdffiles/MG/MG37000.pdf

https://smartfarmerkenya.com/4754-2/

https://www.ajfand.net/Volume19/No2/Balamaze17290.pdf

Its 2 fold, u belittle 1 yet he has refused ya gay maneuvers which are well known and nothing pegged on me is bad as guilt whatsoever, if at all i could have died a sibling u could not have learnt automation as Kenya and the rest of poor world could be like in the 80′s dude. Now u talk kinda, pointing 1 but afraid as ya dubious deal faulted meaning i have worn my part as the war. Even if u say i got no money or was crying, the fact remains what u wanted as with jew/Egyptian long dead dude, no immigration of the Negros into ya nation as it more poor than rich than u thought dude. Better that way bro, and on ya side u stop wanting my food even wanting to ambush me on the roads. Selling artificial oil, gas, foods and exhuming caskets long gone even opening shops 4 petty theft and even illicit money online that u use to get those women u want. They fear as they can be attacked with other nations the belittled and at the same time have gotten leverage of making gadget so confident of the future not to get into the hard life they lived 20years back. They wanna get to 1 country yet those in their sphere they mistreat as above, so them also to take heed in other peoples nation. Scratch my back i scratch yours lets u r annihilated to be animals not human beings dude

Wanting all free from me but not even a single from them and that can not happen and they have gotten it dude. Kenya will never be rich than even SA and u got it dude and it hurts cause have waiting 4 along time. Charles Darwin theories hoax as Judgement and Hell found along Chicago Ave Minneapolis, MN. Me i have rewritten books as dismissed many laws many have studied in books without rest, waking up at night to master them as lies and u have submitted to the same and so fellows who is great, me or u? With ya u only abuse me in circles which do not gain international accreditation b4 u realize that am above ya to plan my ambush or claim that am of ya tribe yet we got DNA dude. U can be all killed and Nyanza and luo dialect remains with me to dispose it bro. Whats the hoot dude, even after ya death and having received formalin injection if u repent when people hear or record to post on YouTube, Fb or any social media fraternity 4 people to retrieve and hear u find ya way to heaven, so Mr Hindu we know clearly the remedy to what u r championing dude, so better stop. If u say the truck with belt water pump that harbor Ae technology is just made while other knows about it when it started operation then what u have been saying on people as seeing in ya eye are all lies pegged on the above case, so stop dude and accept triumph Mr Hindu, stop wanting my food again yet previously u belittled me, meaning u r insane to get by as the gimmick maybe dude. People also transfigure to images of others to implicate ya dude. Koth/seed mar chwa/okwaju treats aids dude, Nyamau fresh mouth herb can be made much as the leaves or roots as well as stem in the boom process by placing coconut African broom stick, pineapple, carrot, pumpkin, water lilies, charcoal water, orange fruit outer peel or sweet potato both in the boom process and with any food to be made much artificially dude. No worry in Africa dude when the above learnt as much as temperate lands in winter when oil finishes but we got away to replace Africa solar as E-car dude  

Built in Uganda airline by KEBI in the link below as well as E-Norwegian airplane

http://bazzukulubabuganda.com/enyonyi_ezibuuka_eza_uganda_airlines.html

https://www.theguardian.com/world/2018/jan/18/norway-aims-for-all-short-haul-flights-to-be-100-electric-by-2040

Am the Victor dude, Now u cant just talk with mouth wide open even if i die dude and that’s it homey. Shut that previously smelling mouth which my relentless efforts made much fresh 4 people to draw close to ya and wife not to divorce ya dude. Kebi saved ya ass big time dude

With making like Manhattan Island on water, u can use the armored glass as its much strong and rot not dude, where such is made out of Garbage, placed on it cut flower sample then hurl cold water and boom ya size u want armored glass as the devil can give you every road and street as much as cultivate lawns and sky scrapper if u draw all such not making later after the island is formed. The Kora brown translucence stone is the hardest and can be used to make our roads and buildings more than the normal 1, when sample of such place in garbage or cut diagonal such photos as in the link below placed then u spit saliva in the boom process and ya kora stone formed.

https://www.gettyimages.com/photos/stone-object?mediatype=photography&phrase=stone%20object&sort=mostpopular

https://www.google.com/search?source=univ&tbm=isch&q=images+of+gravel&client=ms-google-coop&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjhyvrthpDrAhWmDmMBHaQvCWUQsAR6BAgKEAE&biw=1280&bih=891

https://www.google.com/search?client=ms-google-coop&q=images+of+mango+seed

Take city garbage like collected 4 a week and mix with much water, then insert pieces of lemon into it, then spit saliva and in the boom process makes ya gravel, u can mix with sewer water 4 black dark ones which if u place in the boom process solutions as dough, hay, cereals or fruits makes any electrical gadget as home appliances, office furniture and appliances or cars when placed in the boom process as we place water lilies, orange outer peel, charcoal, coconut African broom etc. Even grains of fruits as lemons, oranges, mango, paw paw makes electronic when the above gravel piece placed while When u place dry mango seed, cassava pieces, avocado seed, cut ripe banana, jack-fruit yellow inside and maize in solutions that makes jets or sugar makes such in the boom process dude.

Chamama made gadgets grows wide ya face and makes u pimply but chamama made paints in the boom process are 1 of the coolest, so buy like a car made out of ripe mango, remove the paint and applies chamama made paint as explained above while cars made out of jackfruit if u draw close to them u see, kinda, tiny gray dots as tints and its known that way where people loving such hate the reverse as of chamama that draws u to it not as of rye that does the exact reverse. Most Jackfruit made gadget lovers love not smooth things as paints as many Arab women git such wide, non perforated type of skin, but of jackfruit which is like skin of people with tiny holes as sweet pores or goose pimply skinned people out of awe or 1 pumping cold moments to ya, hard to explain but at least gotten it dude. With paw paw made gadgets, people see u as loving ya self and self alone and even with paints. So dude, explore ya option b4 u come up with the car u drive to maintain respect and if wrong choice, remove paint as above and apply another as above. AS in the song link below

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LL__exAp76A

With pumpkin made like car is 4 the young who wants to be big or wanting other people 4 love who are aged than them, if u drive such cars, such women pity u as can consider ya and most preferably good with tiny or small car but not suv as the reverse is of jack-fruit made 1 dude. Got to know this, don't just claim u r up to kids, thinking it will get always with u and no-where can overtake ya, don't just be bongo lala, just there, wanting good as women always wants from men dude. Don’t get into women without nothing 4 society to have pity on ya.

When though as above ya plans cant be blocked or known as with Britain, will always be like that, as u want not people to tell ya and u want to control them as is only u who knows how to behave not them, when it goes bad with u, get to my position when u were above me not vice versa wanting from me to the of being like a kid, dude beware it will be the scene of this series movie where the black woman who was frustrated aiming the gun at his boss who knows how to see/look previously when his dubious ways had not been known as in the link below but UK people now don't fear their cities being overtaken as they can expand Landon by building another Manhattan city island or residential land on its Atlantic coast as explained above. Put smile in ya face as the problem will solve it self as Landon is said to be crowded dude

https://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=the+old+guard+series+scenes

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4ScfkduNTbo

Luo people like bibo, have u acknowledged am above u in thinking--- hamano, hehe, have u dude, that way dude. I wanna hear the phrase ““we acknowledge u r above us dude“ again and again, Hamano and thats respect, where am snoring u dont come along and dude the same, got me dude, Hamano, Without me u could be still living in shanties and ya life could not have changed as now, True or false, that way dude, en hamamo, saying looking downward as a woman being seduced dude and that's how it ought to be fro beginning.

$50 toy drone Kebi demolished as he bought just to find how it works and tells you. Men if u know shit stop cashing into 1 life, u can cash into his life yet get to hell as him gets to heaven as being in hell is only 1 week and rather hell so u r erased out the book of life. Decision yours dude. Just standing in hell no sweet thing as Kekvin out of curse, better kill every1 with siren gas so every1 gets to judgement 4 the world to start again, rather than this way which will never end as we got other planets as well. Other planet maps, white burnt wood fumes mixed with much water then raw mango pies placed in the boom process then the devil explain to ya in details whereabouts of other planets as distance from earth, its radius and continents in it. Jivu/wivu as Jealousy dude 

Counterfeit products, make a bar code software on phones to detect the same when no company placed automated vending machine.

They now champion less kids not as earlier as to increase a/c no that can withdraw cash from 2goinvoice which name has been changed and not told many people as it can be like its predecessor dude.

Nyagot NAIROBI commuter buses belongs to Kebi adopted mother, as many have known now cropping the town as Arabs and whites wanting it easy from him yet he is very categorical in his stand that’s not his biological mother but happy are we as DNA has been done. White people stop that shit, take it to another some1 bro. Don’t turn back like the Russians are doing continue being rude as always and sponsoring hooliganism do not relent girl. Told them how motor bike spare parts made as much as vehicle, managed to make the same sell and be rich dude

Even chamama leaves and succulent seed part makes 1 of the best paints and cars that neither draws people away from it or to it but just there, not deemed kiddish or youth or too much grown but just there dude.

If getting out was my way out, getting out i will get out, no 1 whom am more than can bar me and get me straight getting out i will get out even u Mr Hindu, Kikuyu or Russian if u don’t shoot me, getting out i will dude, u cant stop me bro. U can prolong ya ejaculation but not my getting out bro wanting to reap where u did not saw youngling.

Portacabin housed in the links below made by Garbage inserted inside water lilies or dry cassava/white sweet potato pieces or all named in sirjustice390 tumblr a/c in the boom process. Make such 4 ya citizen and place in credit dude to eliminate always up-to ya house syndrome to judge ya dude, or cut the photo diagonally even 4 inside rooms with same measuring scale, making the foundation and placing garbage on dug ditches and boom ya house and 4 container u just place in open air and save the ass of ya tribe dude big time

http://zigmacabin.com/index.php?route=product/product&product_id=85

https://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.harwalshelters.com%2Fproducts%2FewExternalFiles%2FPortacabin%2520office.png&imgrefurl=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.harwalshelters.com%2Fproducts%2Fporta-cabins.html&tbnid=4OYsNB7sHkzNcM&vet=10CHwQMyiiAWoXChMI-J_jpt-L6wIVAAAAAB0AAAAAEAk..i&docid=ANAHWBwy-vrgQM&w=1356&h=630&q=cameroon%20made%20portacabin%20houses%20images&client=firefox-b-d&ved=0CHwQMyiiAWoXChMI-J_jpt-L6wIVAAAAAB0AAAAAEAk

https://www.ridaportablecabins.com/portable-cabin.html

https://dir.exporthub.com/supplier/prefabricated-houses-structures.html

https://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http%3A%2F%2Fzigmacabin.com%2Fimage%2Fcache%2Fcatalog%2Fproduct%2Fportable-cabin%2Fportable-office-cabin2-900x600.jpg&imgrefurl=http%3A%2F%2Fzigmacabin.com%2Findex.php%3Froute%3Dproduct%2Fproduct%26product_id%3D45&tbnid=CCAUiUZTtBnv4M&vet=10CK8BEDMougFqFwoTCPif46bfi-sCFQAAAAAdAAAAABAJ..i&docid=sVNOsWLSpK04nM&w=900&h=600&q=cameroon%20made%20portacabin%20houses%20images&client=firefox-b-d&ved=0CK8BEDMougFqFwoTCPif46bfi-sCFQAAAAAdAAAAABAJ

https://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=https%3A%2F%2Fs.alicdn.com%2F%40sc01%2Fkf%2FHTB1pNCQQVXXXXb2XFXXq6xXFXXXI.jpg&imgrefurl=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.alibaba.com%2Fcountrysearch%2FCN%2Fportable-cabins-for-sale.html&tbnid=DhYyCJ7SbGXPqM&vet=10CFsQMyiSAWoXChMI-J_jpt-L6wIVAAAAAB0AAAAAEAk..i&docid=ioRgx3xF3r9JuM&w=1000&h=1000&itg=1&q=cameroon%20made%20portacabin%20houses%20images&client=firefox-b-d&ved=0CFsQMyiSAWoXChMI-J_jpt-L6wIVAAAAAB0AAAAAEAk

https://www.alibaba.com/countrysearch/CN/house-construction.html

https://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=https%3A%2F%2Fs.alicdn.com%2F%40sc01%2Fkf%2FH4d6a605168574975a2a16f157a5855bbh.jpg_300x300.jpg&imgrefurl=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.alibaba.com%2Fcountrysearch%2FCN%2Fhouse-construction.html&tbnid=zN4NXc7czBDCTM&vet=10CAQQxiAoAmoXChMI-J_jpt-L6wIVAAAAAB0AAAAAEAc..i&docid=LiuIos6XQcko1M&w=300&h=300&itg=1&q=cameroon%20made%20portacabin%20houses%20images&client=firefox-b-d&ved=0CAQQxiAoAmoXChMI-J_jpt-L6wIVAAAAAB0AAAAAEAc

https://www.google.com/search?q=cameroon+made+portacabin+houses+images&tbm=isch&ved=2ahUKEwj4hvqS34vrAhUKhhoKHTRMDCkQ2-cCegQIABAA&oq=cameroon+made+portacabin+houses+images&gs_lcp=CgNpbWcQA1D3cFjMkgFg8ZsBaABwAHgAgAHFA4gBsxSSAQkwLjUuNC4xLjGYAQCgAQGqAQtnd3Mtd2l6LWltZ8ABAQ&sclient=img&ei=rawuX7j8LoqMarSYscgC&bih=654&biw=1024&client=firefox-b-d

https://www.google.com/search?source=univ&tbm=isch&q=sa+made+portacabin+houses+images&client=firefox-b-d&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwigiPXt44vrAhWGERQKHS9ECV4QsAR6BAgKEAE&biw=1024&bih=654

[sirjustice458-blog]

All in all process of all time dude

Yesterday that white man walking with Dogs in Arafat furniture shop at lolwe made like more than 100 missiles and grenade launchers as guns within a tinkle of an eye dude as the raw material was readily available as sample of lolwe households were told to hide/keep their 1 week garbage 4 that work where many where give like 1 of the above to hide in their houses as some went to barren lands around and hid them underground as bury them as much as in the compounds 4 detectives not to unearth the same dude

Far from the above truths other Ugandans around as much as many tourists have made the same above here in East Africa and at agreed time/hour hurl the same on banks and police stations as much as those on vans on the road to create a next volatile state and steal money from such all country banks. As in a war can kill all people who can be corpse and all the army men, Govt can not manage people or overwhelm people who have known how to make machinery as above, with time they will kill all army men like with nucleus bomb, card-boards written with words inserted in garbage and the below inserted as water lilies or coconut stick broom and boom ya bomb bro, unless every1 goes to his land and dialogue given chance is when turmoil can stop dude.

Talk to the devil as in making machines in boom process to give you the map of all planets as with life as well, bearing from earth cities and distance dude. How can the white man know such distances when he has not reached such places dude, daytime lie bro, devil works bro.

Straight city paths as compared to curved town path as of Africa makes you dull and mundane in bed reason why many prefer Africa as not most developed cities as it improves their sex life, much greater sexual appetite and satisfaction than straight roads of most cities as planned cities.

When u place carrot, sausages made out of carrot or catapult Y shaped stick in garbage makes even saucer jets as synonymous with Russian made 1 as u can google both in the boom process.

Angel Gabriel signaling angels about judging facts to take Back to Mr. Hindu was hurled down as in revelation and Peter the rock resumed/took his position as in the links below dude

https://biblehub.com/revelation/12-9.htm

https://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=judgement+of+jesus+in+heaven

When u place maize cob in Garbage like 4 the whole estate and place the above makes even E-air-plane both in the boom process as in the link below dude

https://www.bing.com/images/search?q=electric+passenger+airplane+images&qpvt=electric+passanger+airplane+images&form=IGRE&first=1&scenario=ImageBasicHover&cw=1117&ch=639

Made in Uganda car and plane in the links below

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c_wjymu4dW4

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=23NCVy04iV0

https://www.wired.com/2013/08/electric-airplane-for-sale/

India airplane link as well get a glimpse of what’s in other links below

https://www.bbc.com/news/world-asia-india-41813389            

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uCyymbjzmmc

https://www.wired.com/2007/10/nigerian-studen/https://www.wired.com/2007/10/nigerian-studen/            

https://www.facebook.com/242155683315911/photos/diy-home-made-electric-scooter/242190723312407/              

https://www.amazon.com/slp/electric-remote-control-planes/xzov6h3ve7v85rm  

https://autojosh.com/checkout-our-made-in-nigeria-keke-napep-photos/

https://www.icao.int/environmental-protection/Documents/EnvironmentalReports/2019/ENVReport2019_pg124-130.pdf                  

https://www.autoreportng.com/2019/11/see-amazing-electric-keke-napep-thats.html

https://www.pinterest.com/pin/322851867010892568/

Uganda can be the African richest nation as the best attract you car or gadgets then grab ya mind then suddenly makes u leave the gadget and search 4 the owner is made out of Jack-fruit as Mfenesi in the boom process, not dull or bright but not even cool, falling less of than being cool dude and world nations where such are grown as they can import such, when mixed with rye gives not all that bright machine and that’s its utility, what a perfect combination as synonymous with mercedez cars and u can mix jack-fruit of equal percentage with any fruit, hay, used tires, bottles or chaff used to make gadgets in the boom process. Click the links below 4 more. Jack-fruit as well can be made much in the boom process but her gadgets not the same as of grown 1

https://www.worldatlas.com/articles/world-leaders-in-jackfruit-production.html

https://edis.ifas.ufl.edu/pdffiles/MG/MG37000.pdf

https://smartfarmerkenya.com/4754-2/

https://www.ajfand.net/Volume19/No2/Balamaze17290.pdf

Its 2 fold, u belittle 1 yet he has refused ya gay maneuvers which are well known and nothing pegged on me is bad as guilt whatsoever, if at all i could have died a sibling u could not have learnt automation as Kenya and the rest of poor world could be like in the 80′s dude. Now u talk kinda, pointing 1 but afraid as ya dubious deal faulted meaning i have worn my part as the war. Even if u say i got no money or was crying, the fact remains what u wanted as with jew/Egyptian long dead dude, no immigration of the Negros into ya nation as it more poor than rich than u thought dude. Better that way bro, and on ya side u stop wanting my food even wanting to ambush me on the roads. Selling artificial oil, gas, foods and exhuming caskets long gone even opening shops 4 petty theft and even illicit money online that u use to get those women u want. They fear as they can be attacked with other nations the belittled and at the same time have gotten leverage of making gadget so confident of the future not to get into the hard life they lived 20years back. They wanna get to 1 country yet those in their sphere they mistreat as above, so them also to take heed in other peoples nation. Scratch my back i scratch yours lets u r annihilated to be animals not human beings dude

Wanting all free from me but not even a single from them and that can not happen and they have gotten it dude. Kenya will never be rich than even SA and u got it dude and it hurts cause have waiting 4 along time. Charles Darwin theories hoax as Judgement and Hell found along Chicago Ave Minneapolis, MN. Me i have rewritten books as dismissed many laws many have studied in books without rest, waking up at night to master them as lies and u have submitted to the same and so fellows who is great, me or u? With ya u only abuse me in circles which do not gain international accreditation b4 u realize that am above ya to plan my ambush or claim that am of ya tribe yet we got DNA dude. U can be all killed and Nyanza and luo dialect remains with me to dispose it bro. Whats the hoot dude, even after ya death and having received formalin injection if u repent when people hear or record to post on YouTube, Fb or any social media fraternity 4 people to retrieve and hear u find ya way to heaven, so Mr Hindu we know clearly the remedy to what u r championing dude, so better stop. If u say the truck with belt water pump that harbor Ae technology is just made while other knows about it when it started operation then what u have been saying on people as seeing in ya eye are all lies pegged on the above case, so stop dude and accept triumph Mr Hindu, stop wanting my food again yet previously u belittled me, meaning u r insane to get by as the gimmick maybe dude. People also transfigure to images of others to implicate ya dude. Koth/seed mar chwa/okwaju treats aids dude, Nyamau fresh mouth herb can be made much as the leaves or roots as well as stem in the boom process by placing coconut African broom stick, pineapple, carrot, pumpkin, water lilies, charcoal water, orange fruit outer peel or sweet potato both in the boom process and with any food to be made much artificially dude. No worry in Africa dude when the above learnt as much as temperate lands in winter when oil finishes but we got away to replace Africa solar as E-car dude  

Built in Uganda airline by KEBI in the link below as well as E-Norwegian airplane

http://bazzukulubabuganda.com/enyonyi_ezibuuka_eza_uganda_airlines.html

https://www.theguardian.com/world/2018/jan/18/norway-aims-for-all-short-haul-flights-to-be-100-electric-by-2040

Am the Victor dude, Now u cant just talk with mouth wide open even if i die dude and that’s it homey. Shut that previously smelling mouth which my relentless efforts made much fresh 4 people to draw close to ya and wife not to divorce ya dude. Kebi saved ya ass big time dude

With making like Manhattan Island on water, u can use the armored glass as its much strong and rot not dude, where such is made out of Garbage, placed on it cut flower sample then hurl cold water and boom ya size u want armored glass as the devil can give you every road and street as much as cultivate lawns and sky scrapper if u draw all such not making later after the island is formed. The Kora brown translucence stone is the hardest and can be used to make our roads and buildings more than the normal 1, when sample of such place in garbage or cut diagonal such photos as in the link below placed then u spit saliva in the boom process and ya kora stone formed.

https://www.gettyimages.com/photos/stone-object?mediatype=photography&phrase=stone%20object&sort=mostpopular

https://www.google.com/search?source=univ&tbm=isch&q=images+of+gravel&client=ms-google-coop&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjhyvrthpDrAhWmDmMBHaQvCWUQsAR6BAgKEAE&biw=1280&bih=891

https://www.google.com/search?client=ms-google-coop&q=images+of+mango+seed

Take city garbage like collected 4 a week and mix with much water, then insert pieces of lemon into it, then spit saliva and in the boom process makes ya gravel, u can mix with sewer water 4 black dark ones which if u place in the boom process solutions as dough, hay, cereals or fruits makes any electrical gadget as home appliances, office furniture and appliances or cars when placed in the boom process as we place water lilies, orange outer peel, charcoal, coconut African broom etc. Even grains of fruits as lemons, oranges, mango, paw paw makes electronic when the above gravel piece placed while When u place dry mango seed, cassava pieces, avocado seed, cut ripe banana, jack-fruit yellow inside and maize in solutions that makes jets or sugar makes such in the boom process dude.

Chamama made gadgets grows wide ya face and makes u pimply but chamama made paints in the boom process are 1 of the coolest, so buy like a car made out of ripe mango, remove the paint and applies chamama made paint as explained above while cars made out of jackfruit if u draw close to them u see, kinda, tiny gray dots as tints and its known that way where people loving such hate the reverse as of chamama that draws u to it not as of rye that does the exact reverse. Most Jackfruit made gadget lovers love not smooth things as paints as many Arab women git such wide, non perforated type of skin, but of jackfruit which is like skin of people with tiny holes as sweet pores or goose pimply skinned people out of awe or 1 pumping cold moments to ya, hard to explain but at least gotten it dude. With paw paw made gadgets, people see u as loving ya self and self alone and even with paints. So dude, explore ya option b4 u come up with the car u drive to maintain respect and if wrong choice, remove paint as above and apply another as above. AS in the song link below

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LL__exAp76A

With pumpkin made like car is 4 the young who wants to be big or wanting other people 4 love who are aged than them, if u drive such cars, such women pity u as can consider ya and most preferably good with tiny or small car but not suv as the reverse is of jack-fruit made 1 dude. Got to know this, don't just claim u r up to kids, thinking it will get always with u and no-where can overtake ya, don't just be bongo lala, just there, wanting good as women always wants from men dude. Don’t get into women without nothing 4 society to have pity on ya.

When though as above ya plans cant be blocked or known as with Britain, will always be like that, as u want not people to tell ya and u want to control them as is only u who knows how to behave not them, when it goes bad with u, get to my position when u were above me not vice versa wanting from me to the of being like a kid, dude beware it will be the scene of this series movie where the black woman who was frustrated aiming the gun at his boss who knows how to see/look previously when his dubious ways had not been known as in the link below but UK people now don't fear their cities being overtaken as they can expand Landon by building another Manhattan city island or residential land on its Atlantic coast as explained above. Put smile in ya face as the problem will solve it self as Landon is said to be crowded dude

https://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=the+old+guard+series+scenes

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4ScfkduNTbo

Luo people like bibo, have u acknowledged am above u in thinking--- hamano, hehe, have u dude, that way dude. I wanna hear the phrase ““we acknowledge u r above us dude“ again and again, Hamano and thats respect, where am snoring u dont come along and dude the same, got me dude, Hamano, Without me u could be still living in shanties and ya life could not have changed as now, True or false, that way dude, en hamamo, saying looking downward as a woman being seduced dude and that's how it ought to be fro beginning.

Counterfeit products, make a bar code software on phones to detect the same when no company placed automated vending machine.

They now champion less kids not as earlier as to increase a/c no that can withdraw cash from 2goinvoice which name has been changed and not told many people as it can be like its predecessor dude.

Nyagot NAIROBI commuter buses belongs to Kebi adopted mother, as many have known now cropping the town as Arabs and whites wanting it easy from him yet he is very categorical in his stand that’s not his biological mother but happy are we as DNA has been done. White people stop that shit, take it to another some1 bro. Don’t turn back like the Russians are doing continue being rude as always and sponsoring hooliganism do not relent girl. Told them how motor bike spare parts made as much as vehicle, managed to make the same sell and be rich dude

Even chamama leaves and succulent seed part makes 1 of the best paints and cars that neither draws people away from it or to it but just there, not deemed kiddish or youth or too much grown but just there dude.

If getting out was my way out, getting out i will get out, no 1 whom am more than can bar me and get me straight getting out i will get out even u Mr Hindu, Kikuyu or Russian if u don’t shoot me, getting out i will dude, u cant stop me bro. U can prolong ya ejaculation but not my getting out bro wanting to reap where u did not saw youngling.

Portacabin housed in the links below made by Garbage inserted inside water lilies or dry cassava/white sweet potato pieces or all named in sirjustice390 tumblr a/c in the boom process. Make such 4 ya citizen and place in credit dude to eliminate always up-to ya house syndrome to judge ya dude, or cut the photo diagonally even 4 inside rooms with same measuring scale, making the foundation and placing garbage on dug ditches and boom ya house and 4 container u just place in open air and save the ass of ya tribe dude big time

http://zigmacabin.com/index.php?route=product/product&product_id=85

https://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.harwalshelters.com%2Fproducts%2FewExternalFiles%2FPortacabin%2520office.png&imgrefurl=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.harwalshelters.com%2Fproducts%2Fporta-cabins.html&tbnid=4OYsNB7sHkzNcM&vet=10CHwQMyiiAWoXChMI-J_jpt-L6wIVAAAAAB0AAAAAEAk..i&docid=ANAHWBwy-vrgQM&w=1356&h=630&q=cameroon%20made%20portacabin%20houses%20images&client=firefox-b-d&ved=0CHwQMyiiAWoXChMI-J_jpt-L6wIVAAAAAB0AAAAAEAk

https://www.ridaportablecabins.com/portable-cabin.html

https://dir.exporthub.com/supplier/prefabricated-houses-structures.html

https://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http%3A%2F%2Fzigmacabin.com%2Fimage%2Fcache%2Fcatalog%2Fproduct%2Fportable-cabin%2Fportable-office-cabin2-900x600.jpg&imgrefurl=http%3A%2F%2Fzigmacabin.com%2Findex.php%3Froute%3Dproduct%2Fproduct%26product_id%3D45&tbnid=CCAUiUZTtBnv4M&vet=10CK8BEDMougFqFwoTCPif46bfi-sCFQAAAAAdAAAAABAJ..i&docid=sVNOsWLSpK04nM&w=900&h=600&q=cameroon%20made%20portacabin%20houses%20images&client=firefox-b-d&ved=0CK8BEDMougFqFwoTCPif46bfi-sCFQAAAAAdAAAAABAJ

https://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=https%3A%2F%2Fs.alicdn.com%2F%40sc01%2Fkf%2FHTB1pNCQQVXXXXb2XFXXq6xXFXXXI.jpg&imgrefurl=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.alibaba.com%2Fcountrysearch%2FCN%2Fportable-cabins-for-sale.html&tbnid=DhYyCJ7SbGXPqM&vet=10CFsQMyiSAWoXChMI-J_jpt-L6wIVAAAAAB0AAAAAEAk..i&docid=ioRgx3xF3r9JuM&w=1000&h=1000&itg=1&q=cameroon%20made%20portacabin%20houses%20images&client=firefox-b-d&ved=0CFsQMyiSAWoXChMI-J_jpt-L6wIVAAAAAB0AAAAAEAk

https://www.alibaba.com/countrysearch/CN/house-construction.html

https://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=https%3A%2F%2Fs.alicdn.com%2F%40sc01%2Fkf%2FH4d6a605168574975a2a16f157a5855bbh.jpg_300x300.jpg&imgrefurl=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.alibaba.com%2Fcountrysearch%2FCN%2Fhouse-construction.html&tbnid=zN4NXc7czBDCTM&vet=10CAQQxiAoAmoXChMI-J_jpt-L6wIVAAAAAB0AAAAAEAc..i&docid=LiuIos6XQcko1M&w=300&h=300&itg=1&q=cameroon%20made%20portacabin%20houses%20images&client=firefox-b-d&ved=0CAQQxiAoAmoXChMI-J_jpt-L6wIVAAAAAB0AAAAAEAc

https://www.google.com/search?q=cameroon+made+portacabin+houses+images&tbm=isch&ved=2ahUKEwj4hvqS34vrAhUKhhoKHTRMDCkQ2-cCegQIABAA&oq=cameroon+made+portacabin+houses+images&gs_lcp=CgNpbWcQA1D3cFjMkgFg8ZsBaABwAHgAgAHFA4gBsxSSAQkwLjUuNC4xLjGYAQCgAQGqAQtnd3Mtd2l6LWltZ8ABAQ&sclient=img&ei=rawuX7j8LoqMarSYscgC&bih=654&biw=1024&client=firefox-b-d

https://www.google.com/search?source=univ&tbm=isch&q=sa+made+portacabin+houses+images&client=firefox-b-d&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwigiPXt44vrAhWGERQKHS9ECV4QsAR6BAgKEAE&biw=1024&bih=654

[junk-and-clutter]

Akatsuki Deidara x Katara / Mon. May 25. 2020

x Katara x Katara ached for sleep to come tonight but, as usual of late moving to the HIdden Leaf Village, her mulling mind prevented it.  There is a cause for the clutter that has risen in these late hours.  In too short for time, hour after restless hour, she’s battling matters in her vulnerable state.  Being a few hours before sunrise && craved sleep so badly, but it has betrayed her once again.  At this point, any sleep is an impossible prayer.  Lying hollowly under familiar sheets, staring at an unfamiliar ceiling, inhaling scents, && sounds that hover.  She couldn’t lie here any longer, everything her past / old life will seep through her mind && into her heart.  && she wasn’t ready for that.  Replacing the threat of remembering by DOING.  Tussling the tangled sheets loose being as quiet as a mouse getting dressed fully armed.  Pausing a moment to look && listen for movement.  Confident she sneaked out through her bedroom window on the 2nd floor.  Weary body loathing her mind’s resolve to escape her thoughts in the only way she’s found that worked ――― r u n n i n g.  Not being able to spend another second bottled up in her thoughts, fretting over the unknown she could not predict ――― alter ――― or what role to play.  The atmosphere is calm but swathed in the stench of Village.  

Nostrils flare with each inhalation tracking the only scent she knew.  Running easily through the moonlit streets hunting for a natural water source catching onto the aroma  but all she ended up finding was water towers attached to facilities, backed up water gutters she took the time to unclog quietly && rain barrels.  Paralyzing pulses radiate through each disappointment.  She used to feel the WATER / w a v e s like a part of the tidal rhythm in her own body but coming here fringed creating an invisible barrier.  Lifelessly sinking to some pit / quicksand bottom that was impossible to escape.  Dumping the contents out of the rain barrel staring at the sludge water staining the ground in mild disgust && anger.  Not staying in one place for too long the sound of splashing water was easy to hear by the trained ear.  Searching for something that felt non existent.  Scaling the tallest wall easily accomplishing the climb safely slinking on top of the roof.  She slumped down so exhausted, bone-shaken with washed out frustration, && sharp breathless expression trying to catch her breath back.  Deflated blue eyes staring out seeing the wide contours of Konohagakure  ――― Village Hidden in the Leaves && inhabitants soaking it all in.

Atasuki Deidara

--- Deidara! That was his name, wasn't it? If he his memories served him, it was. But it sounded like it was shouted through water; distorted and barely made out syllables. He had died, hadn't he? Of course he had. b o o m; art. Art killed him. The finest displays one could ever hope to see, to dream. And yet, why did he feel as though he still lived, still felt the subtle cool grass between fingers. Unless-- Wait. Grass? He could feel the chill of their blades, rough like a cat's tongue. Maybe wherever he had ended up had grass. Maybe there were flowers; an endless field of fragrant flowers. He hoped that the peace he found would last forever. He did what he had felt was necessary, right? There wasn't much more in it than wanting to express himself in his art. That's the goal of every artist-- Were those birds? He could hear birds. Their alluring, soft calls just as soothing as the sounds of the wind brushing neatly through the tree

s; faint rustling that stimulated his brain in a positive manner. Perhaps he had found where it was they'd all ended up at in the end. Would he see them? See any of them? It was at this moment, sensations started to return to his extremities; cool ground, a bit damp.. hey, wait, was it raining? How long had that been going on? Can it rain after death? Pinpricks of cool water splash across his features, dampening his clothes and hair. It was at this moment that his eyes snapped open. There was no waiting sun to blind him, no waiting glow of some ethereal caregiver. No, it was just.. trees? and more trees. Wh-- Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion, like he was stuck in a vat of molasses and glue, unable to really move much more than a bit at a time. Truly an odd feeling, so leaden and rooted to the spot. It didn't dawn on him, until a deep breath had been taken, that his lungs burned with the lack of air up until that moment - pinpricks of acute pain

and discomfort began to flood the entirety of his form. Sensations spread across the entirety of his form, filling him with such intense anxiety that he shot straight upward, sitting up with a wild look in his gaze. Where the hell was he?! Confusion, anxiety, anger -- it was all too much for him. Throwing himself over on to his hands and knees, colorless bile-filled vomitus rose out of his mouth and splashed onto the ground. Blargh! You don't throw up in the afterlife, right? Staring at the puddle a moment before his eyes rolled up into his head, forcing him to fall back over, on to his back, once more. This wasn't supposed to be how it was, right? He didn't know what was going on anymore and there was little in his head or around him to properly convey the information he needed. Everything swam behind a thin layer of unshed tears as he felt another welling within the depths of his stomach, violently wrenching himself over again to let it go. Trembling from th

e efforts, he finally could start pulling himself away from the mess made and attempt to find his legs and arms. Those still worked, right? His patchwork arms and body were on display, with little in the way of modesty. Finding a tree, he forced himself upward, weakly, and draped himself on lower level situated branches. How long was he out for? A long time? Some time? Forever? His eyes were sunken in, skin taut over emaciated form. He didn't look good, but he wasn't subjected to the assault that would surely diminish his self-esteem and self-worth. At this point, the rain had picked up its war upon the earth and all exposed, including himself. Before he knew it, his hair was plastered about his wet and exposed skin. He looked paler as a result too; almost callow and withdrawn. Like a corpse.. It was hard to assess the level of damage properly right now. However, he knew that he wasn't quite himself anymore, there were pieces missing and mysteries unanswered.

x Katara x Deflated blue eyes staring out seeing the wide contours of Konohagakure  ―――  Village Hidden in the Leaves && inhabitants soaking it all in for a couple of hours.  Until she could smell the scent of a new source of tainted water.  Resulting  in a potent stench that was easily detected from long distances.  But it passed the comforts && safety of the Village. . . within the ancient forest that loomed && towered.  She’d get in a lot of trouble if she got lost. . . but the feeling of curiosity && tension within herself battled.  Bracing herself doing something stupid.  Very stupid.  Like a moth to a flame she wandered towards the lining trees.  Gazing straight in front, between the old giant trees && what's lurking within.  Curiosity was stronger than fear of the forest.  Jogging into the old woods all alone && prepared to face unspeakable terrors. Adrenaline began filtering through her veins tracking the vile aroma within the sea of trees taking higher ground jumping from branch to branch weaved between trees, with a gentle mist-drizzled coating the air.  Where she should feel excitement it was dread pooling deep in her stomach as she’d lose the vile water scent if she didn’t hurry.  Finding the source!  Only she tightened her jaw && shook her head.  She tracked. . . threw up. .  that's new but gross.  So gross.  Didn’t think that was even possible.  

Keeping that alllll to herself.  Since that’s not something to brag about.  Squinting at the silhouette figure laying on the forest ground.  She shot them a curious, almost sad look, plunging her hands into her leg holster pulling a vial out twisting the top as there was a sound of taking something out.  Like a puppet losing its strings she collapsed onto her knees upon the forest floor above their head tilting her head gazing down at an unknown face. Not like that was very new, she was always staring at too many faces but none she knew.  But not sure if she was staring at someone DEAD or a l i v e as much as she couldn’t tell if they were a BOY or g i r l.  Though she had noticed that their hair was longer than she thought, && damp, darker blond, as water film reflected the glowing sheen of a lovely glittering hue.  | Stop looking at them |, she thought, && closing her eyes, the way little kids do thinking it’s going to make herself invisible.  But unfortunately when she peaked a second later, they were still there.  Parting her lips to suck in some air to prepare herself, she choked ungracefully instead. . .Coughing into her sleeve, nervous. Not very sure what to do if its . . . well dead?   Now the moment of truth were they DEAD or a l i v e she cracked an CINNAMON b a r k over there nose searching for an reaction out of them

Atasuki Deidara

Deidara was about as useful as a wet, plastic bag hanging on a tree branch. In the wake of his .. resurrection? Revival? Rewakening? -- He just didn't know how to process his surroundings. It was hard to look passed the film of disbelief and mild horror. As far has he had come to know, he was dead. The rain was soaking everything around it, making him soppy and wet as a result. His hair seemed to weigh so much as he stared through it, blankly. Some of the rain had slowly crept itself down across his features and into his eyes, which forced a blink out of him. But otherwise, he just couldn't be assed to move. To be honest, the intense pins and needles sensation was starting to ebb, allowing him to actually feel that he still had all of his limbs. At first, he had thought his arm gone, but there it was. He slowly started to move when he noticed movement, then heard a cough. Brows knit. He wasn't the

only one here? Ugh. And they'd see him like this? A barely dressed pancake, struggling to move his soppy wet form. How embarrassing. Then again, did he really care? Deidara was still staring out of a 'break' in his long, leaden blonde - someone was there, but he couldn't make out details or anything in particular. They were approaching. Despite the intense numbness, he stiffened up in reaction. He didn't think he could actually react quick enough to cause harm, but he wasn't going to simply go down again without a fight. As soon as she got close, he made an inhuman sound of alarm and jerked away from her. It wasn't long before he was dragging himself backward, his brain slow to process what might be benign in nature. The Missing-Nin simply couldn't let someone so close without good cause! But, the suddenness and the anxiety of it all only served to cause him more discomfort; his head shaken furiously. Still, h

e couldn't speak. If he could, he'd drink the water form the sky at this point. Who the fuck was this? His processing speeds weren't up to snuff unfortunately. But, he was trying to place her, still trying to maintain a fair bit of distance, even if he had to actively drag his ass everytime she attempted to close the gap. It should be noted that he looked a bit beaten up, a bit charred, and without his iconic cloak. In fact he was just in his fishnets, simple over shirt and beaten-to-shit pants; none of which were in good condition. Both of his arms showed signs of stitching and a portion of his right arm looked to be .. different altogether. His back was eventually flush against a tree trunk and, after some serious effort on his part, he spoke; "Stay.. away." Harsh, hoarse and almost lost in the hushed murmur of the rain that started to gain momentum, further washing the world of its latest sins.

x Katara x To Katara’s racing pulse hearing an inhuman sound of alarm coming out of them was beautiful to the ears.  Blood hammered in her ears.  Relief filled Katara knowing they were alive, but once they were beyond the illusion, doubts rose.  She worried leaving her nervous && added to the strain. Who was this person, though?  && how did they get here looking so beaten up && charred?   Not knowing their name,  their story.  Nor what they’ve done, nor what they’ve been through by the options they had to choose from.  Not judging his story by the chapter she’s walked in on.  Even as a bystander, the one-sided exchange was painful.  Gaze trailing their actions holding her breath watching them drag themselves backward, head shaken furiously.  Only releasing her breath when they were eventually flushed against a tree trunk.  Shutting her eyes && clenching her hands tightly until her knuckles turned white with half moons imprinted into calloused palms, resisting the urge to approach them  ――― help them ――― she had to try, doing anything was better than doing nothing.  But how do you help someone who won’t let her get near them.  The conversation died for now && the only sound was there breathing && the rain.  Welcoming the pelting rain upon herself, trickling down against her, shivering in delight.  But this delightful && joyous reunion was tainted.  The silence between them left her in what she had been avoiding && running from all along.  What's kept her up night after night.  

P a i n.  Pain in every muscle.  Pain && rage in every crease of her heart.  Her heart skipping a beat while it ached wishing the pain in her chest would quiet down.  Thoughts swallowed her.  Her thoughts like her heart felt something much like a dying departed breath.  Feeling the cold shock following the observance settle into her bones. These thoughts felt like pieces of a chain.  Hooked && linked together, growing into a long chain that started to present like truth. How many fragments can a heart be broken into before it turned to a dust that could never be mended?   She knew she wanted to continue this way of life && join in the ranks.  Hand reaching for the headband feeling the outline miserably hidden underneath her clothes writhing in guilt because she didn’t want to trade it for another but she’s utterly powerless in the struggle.  She didn’t want to face the chunnin selection exams to see her friends && team she was forced to leave behind && who’s replaced her.  The burning image of her old sensei on the other side while she stood beside another.  For all that she's lost && to the future that she’ll have to endure.  Taking the first step to that f u t u r e by helping the person across from her.  Clenching her eyes shut.  Her mind raced through the possibilities as she tried to approach a different angle.  She tried to fill the silence with conversation.  “You display yourself like you’re not ready to descend ―― deep into the arms of what will destroy you if we stay like this. . .  So . . let me help you.  Let me at least try.  What do you have to lose?”  

[dxlansfxck]

Saints & Sins [G.D] Part 08

Even days later, Y/N still couldn’t decide between Grayson and Luke, she even tried to avoid both of them. She saw Luke during their classes but didn’t respond to his longing glances. Grayson’s and her room kept quiet until midnight, when Grayson decided to come home to sleep. Both were trying to catch her attention with loving gestures, she got flowers from Luke and each morning a lovely joint from Grayson.

She knew she couldn’t avoid her decision much longer – neither to hurt her lovers nor hurt herself. It strained her nerves to stand between two fronts. Sure, she liked Luke, he was nice and thoughtful, always listened to her problems and distracted her from Grayson, but he was kind of boring. Grayson on the other hand was the spirit that burnt her insides. She loved him and she knew that, but he was a dangerous person. But what was it she was looking for? Harmony and a daily routine or rather the charm of danger? Something that kept her alive but didn’t excite her or something that gave her life sense, but could end it decades earlier?

She saw Grayson and Luke wherever she went, everyone in the smoker’s corner looked like Gray, her gym class was full of boys like Luke, wearing tight shirts that show off their biceps. But neither were really them. And Y/N was still lonely like she was before. But this time, she didn’t enjoy it at all.

___

Days came and went by. Days where she wanted to be hold, wanted affection but didn’t want to cheat on either of them. When she wanted to cuddle Luke, she would want to kiss Grayson. When she wanted to kiss Luke, she would want to make out with Grayson. When she wanted to make out with Luke, she wanted Grayson to fuck her.

She compared her possibilities with them, a future would be easier with Luke, she could finish college and move in with him, marry him and have his children. She wouldn’t have this opportunity with Grayson, she didn’t even know if he’d be still alive after college. They wouldn’t be able to afford a house if they’d keep taking drugs. Of course, she thought about making Grayson to take part in a drug withdrawal. Cold Turkey. No medicine, just pure pain. He could do that for her. For their future. He promised her. He loved her. Luke wouldn’t take any risk for her, his life was perfect. He didn’t need anything to hold on to survive. Grayson did in fact need her. She was his anchor, his lifesaver. He needed her. And Y/N decided against Luke, for Grayson, for their future, for their love.

 Luke,

I can’t talk to you face to face, that’s why I’m writing this letter for which you’re maybe going to hate me. But I’m promising you, I won’t let you suffer. I know, you might be right. I might regret my decision, but I had to make it. I think we both knew it from the beginning. All three of us knew. I’m sorry. It’s breaking my heart to tell you that I chose Gray. Can I even call it a decision if both ways break my heart?

Luke, I’ve never had so much fun before, you made the last weeks such a pleasure for me. I think you brought up feelings I’ve never felt. Maybe even love. But nevertheless, Grayson needs me. I know you’ll find someone else quickly, you’re such an amazing person. Your future girl won’t destroy you like I would, you’ll have the perfect future together which I may not even have. You’ll be happy, Luke.

Don’t cry after me, don’t be sad, you’ve earned someone better. Don’t think I didn’t love you, somewhere deep inside me is a spot just for you. But it’s too small to change anything.

Do something with your life. For me. For yourself.

Y/N

 Y/N didn’t hand Luke the letter herself. She was way too scared of him changing her mind. But after she knew he received it, he never talked to her again. She waited on top of her bed, drawing and listening to music until the door opened. She got quite anxious while Grayson walked into the room and let himself fall into his own bed, not giving her any attention. “Hey.” Y/N didn’t know what else to say, but he didn’t mind to answer anyways. “How are you? Don’t you wanna come back to our classes?” Damn, what kind of bullshit was she actually talking about? “Okay, mom.” Stubborn and dismissive like always. “Call me mom once again and I won’t be able to hold myself back, baby”, she tried to loosen up the mood, but he didn’t even laugh. “Okay, sorry”, then he stood up and walked out of the room, leaving Y/N alone and she was close to giving him up.

­­­­­____

One night, Grayson came back quite early and didn’t seem to be as high as he used to be. Without hesitating, Y/N tried to take her chance, slipping under his blanket and hugged his body. “I chose you, you know that, right?“ He didn’t look at her, but didn’t remove her arms either. “Grayson, I told Luke that I love you. I want to be there for you, want to be your anchor.” Grayson just snorts.

“Can you just shut up, Y/L/N? I’m so tired of your crying. I know you chose me, but you did because you felt guilty. Do you understand that I don’t need your help? God, just go to Luke and live the life you want, I don’t even have a future, I’m letting myself live for another year then I’m gonna die anyways”, she was about to say something, but he just shakes his head, “Just let it be, angel. I’m fine, really.”

Their door opened and Y/N automatically skids, turning her head to the new arrival in their doorframe. She thought it was Luke, but she couldn’t remember that face at all. “Y/N, that’s Jaidon, but everyone calls him Jai. Hey, Babe”, he stands up and walks over to Jai, kissing him in front of her. She was either going to cry or to vomit, but smiled for them. “I’m glad you found someone and completed our relationship. Good luck you two”, she claps Grayson’s shoulder before heading out, leaving the campus and walking straight into some corner of the city she came to every single day a few weeks ago. She bought some of the pills she used to take and swallows a few of them on her way home. Her eyes were already closing as she comes back into her room, so she just lets herself fall under her blankets without even taking her pants off. She didn’t care about them. But what she actually did care about were those noises coming from Grayson’s bed. She turns her head once again, just to see Grayson and Jai. Jai on top of him, his tattooed arms next to Gray’s head, a thin layer of sweat on both of their foreheads. “Fuck, Gray”, Jai moans. Grayson didn’t respond, his mouth hung open and his eyes were closed. They didn’t even realize they weren’t alone anymore. Y/N on the other hand decided not to disturb them, swallowing two more pills before dozing off in a deep sleep.

­­­___

“Fuck, babe, keep on going”, muscular arms were wrapped around Y/N’s tiny waist while she moves her hips I a steady rhythm. Deep growls and moans leave the mouth under hers, sweat dripping from her forehead on his chest while his nails were dragging lines across her body. Soon enough she collapsed on top of him while gasping for air. She laid her head on his muscular chest, long fingers were brushing through her hair. Soon enough she was under the shower to wash off the typical sex smell, just to head back to class, to sit next to Grayson, to ignore him and to keep on flirting with his affairs twin. She really gave up on Grayson, was living her own life and shares her bed with Shawn. He was currently winking in Y/Ns direction while biting his lip to hide a smile. Laughing, Y/N shakes her head and flips him off, making Grayson groan in annoyance. “Jealous?”, she smiles. “Dream on, I’ve got the hotter twin.”

 Even though they weren’t really a couple, Shawn and Y/N spent most of their free time together. She couldn’t help it, once he opened his mouth she was lost in his accent. Shawn and Jai were from Canada, their mom sent them to this college because they hat a similar past to Grayson’s. Even if she wasn’t spending time with him, she was ongoing high. Shawn had the best connections to get the best drugs in here, Dope, Weed and even Shore. Y/N was happy with trips and weed, but Gray didn’t seem to mind Jai’s stash of opiates. He changed, resembles a corpse more and more each day. Pale, skinny and no expression left in his eyes. She was somehow regretting breaking up with Luke for him, because the only thing she had left for Grayson was hate.

Back in her room she saw Grayson and Jai with a rolled banknote in their hands and blood dripping noses. She just snorts while sitting down at her desk to learn, trying to get done with everything as fast as possible to get out of this hell, to move away from the person that destroyed her. Away from Grayson Dolan.

___

“C’mon, don’t act that dumb! It’s just maths, how can you not understand anything from that? I even understand that stoned!” Jai shakes his head while fanning the math book in front of her face. Shawn sits next to him and rolls his eyes. “Not everyone can be a math pro like you, brother. Be patient with my girl or I’m telling mom that you’re on H again”, Shawn smiles at his twin whose face got directly softer. “Sorry, Shawny. Okay, again. What haven’t you understood so far, Y/N? Do you know how to get to the scalar product?” Y/N nods while thinking about this awkward situation. Jai was trying to help her with her math problem, while his twin was sitting next to them, sometimes stealing a kiss from her. Shawn made her ask Jai to tutor her, just to spend more time with him and to get to know him better. Even though she’d prefer Shawn teaching her, Jai wasn’t too bad. If he wouldn’t be with Gray, she could maybe even like him.

­­____

"Good luck, Y/N. It’s gonna be the last exam, after that we’re getting wasted!”

4 ½ hours later they were sitting at the lakeside, beer in their hands and smiles on their faces. “Fuck, we made it”, Shawn laughed while taking a deep sip. “Not yet, babe. Exams, yes. Results, no. But for now, that’s it, you’re right”, he kissed her cheek while emptying his bottle. “Thank you too, Jai. I thought I had to hate you ‘cause of Gray, but you really helped me. If I didn’t have Shawn, I’d maybe hook up with you”, Y/N laughed while checking him out. Jai smirks. “Don’t worry about Grayson, he doesn’t give a fuck about relationships. We’re just fucking, but I wouldn’t want to love him.” She raises her eyebrow, almost feeling like she had to defend Grayson. But right in that moment, he was weaving in their direction and letting himself fall next to Jai which rolls his eyes and smirks at me before pressing his lips onto Grayson’s.

[trade-baby-blues]

In Sickness

Pairing: Spock x reader

Word Count: so many (2680 to be exact)

Warning: Death, dying, serious health conditions, pretty gross health conditions, I think one swear

A/N: Requested by an anon!: “Spock x female reader where they are secretly married...but the team finds out when she gets injured on a mission...” Idk if you can tell but I have watched a TON of grey’s anatomy recently which might be why I spent so much time researching the medical stuff lol. This has absolutely NOT been edited because it’s 3:30 AM and it’s my birthday so I’m going to bed. I will (maybe) edit it later. 

Cold was not a word you would have used to describe Spock. The other crew members gossipped about how emotionless he was, but you knew better. You knew where to look. In soft touches in the hallway, meals sent to your lab when you forgot to leave for lunch. No, Spock wasn’t cold. He was the one spot of warmth on the whole damn ship.

When he asked you to marry him, you were over the moon. Literally. The ship had made an emergency stop at Derna after an influenza outbreak. Half the ship was bed-ridden, and you were working yourself to the bone trying to find a cure. Spock found you unconscious at your desk from a fever you’d neglected to mention to anyone, and, after a long, stern lecture he’d asked if you would be his wife. 

That was almost two years ago now and it had been the best two years of your life. You didn't even mind keeping it to yourself, because it made everything feel more special - and he more than made up for it when you spent nights together. There wasn't a doubt in your mind that Spock would move heaven and earth for you if you asked, and you knew he would be completely undone if anything happened to you.

That’s what made you hesitate on the shuttle down to the planet’s surface. You absentmindedly played with the ring hanging around your neck as the emergency transport descended to the next unknown planet. Well, not completely unknown. You knew one thing about the planet: the flora was poisonous to humans, which is why you were zipping up your decontamination suit and pulling your mobile lab down the ship’s loading dock. It whirred to life behind you as soon as you were clear, receding back into the ship as it prepared for take off.

This was your choice. You reminded yourself sternly. You told Jim not to beam them up. Not to send anyone down with you. The fewer people exposed the better. You rolled your shoulders and neck, easing some of the tension you could feel building there, and started walking toward the emergency triage station that was already set up.

There was a small boulder that had been outfitted as a desk for you to work on. Samples from the plant that caused all the trouble were already laid out. Your eyes scanned them quickly, looking for anything that signaled danger. There were no thorns, no pollen, no sap - even the colors were subdued. You lifted a flower to smell, expecting a nauseating rotting meat smell like some other carnivorous plants, but even the scent was beautiful.

“He’s arresting,” an ensign called. She was hunched over a man on the ground, another ensign. Matyas. He worked with the chemists. It was his first away mission.

Someone grabbed your elbow roughly. “Are you just going to stand there or are you going to help him?”

“I’m - I’m not a doctor. I’m a microbiologist I don’t-”

“Damn it I can’t find a pulse.” A doctor had joined the ensign and taken over. Going against warnings to avoid touching Matyas, the doctor was alternating compressions and mouth to mouth while an assistant dug through a bag for a hypo. The needle clicked and everyone held their breath but Matyas didn’t move. It almost felt like your heart was picking up the slack for him with the way it was pounding in your chest.

The doctor sighed. “Time of death, 15:02 Federation Standard Time.” The nurse immediately waved a tricorder over the doctor, scanning for any signs of infection.

You made your way over to Matyas, sample collection kit in hand. While the nurse checked the doctor, you checked the ensign for any obvious signs of disease. Despite only being sick for an hour at most, his face had lost all color and his eyes were dark. Even with gloves on, you could feel how brittle his hair had become. You cut off a few strands and dropped them in a sample bag. Next came the blood draw. You expected it to be the easiest part, but the blood came out much thicker than it should have, almost gelatinous. As if he’d been dead for hours and his blood had started clotting. You chanced a look at the doctor, whose worry was written across his face.

“Can I borrow your tricorder for a sec,” you asked. You accepted it gratefully from the nurse and ran it over Matyas. Each result seemed more concerning than the last: “Skin rash, cardiomegaly, ambient temperature, early signs of rigor mortis.”

The doctor grabbed the tricorder from your hands. “That’s not possible.” He scanned the corpse again, yielding the same results. “We scanned him twenty minutes ago and there was no evidence of cardiomegaly. The only symptoms were a rash, fever, and minor heart palpitations and now….”

“And now the scans show he should’ve been dead for hours, not minutes,” you finished. You wanted to comfort the doctor, who seemed to be getting more anxious by the second, but there was nothing you could say when he was sitting in front of the corpse of a man who might have just infected him. You couldn’t say how long the symptoms would take to start showing, because it was impossibly to know when Matyas was infected. You didn’t even know what caused it. It could be the flower or it could be something in the grass or the trees or even in the air. The only piece of good news you could give came from Bones calling to say the quarantine rooms had been set up.

You went straight to work when you were back on the ship, running the blood through every test you could think of and examining every inch of the plant under microscope. It was harder doing it by yourself, but you insisted your team stay away in case there was something poisonous in the plant. Of course, you hadn’t told Spock you were working alone or that you weren’t working in a decontamination suit, but what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. It was quicker without the burden of the suit anyway.

Bones kept you updated on the status of all the patients. Neither the doctor nor the ensign were starting to show signs but Commander Oni, a member of the security team of all people, was complaining about abdominal pain and facial swelling and the leader of the expedition, Lieutenant Mavek, had a severe fever. They were both being monitored closely.

You focused your attention back to your work. Sure they were stable now, but Matyas was stable when you were first called and not 30 minutes later he was dead. You just hoped half an hour was enough time for you to make some kind of headway with a cure.

Every minute that passed was torture. Ten minutes in and you had nothing. You were starting to sweat. From nerves, you told yourself. Not from disease. Fifteen minutes passed and Bones called to tell you Oni had blood in his lower intestine now, and his liver seemed to be shutting down. Twenty minutes. Mavek fell unconscious, heart beating erratically. Thirty minutes. His heart stopped. He was put on bypass. Forty minutes. Oni was experiencing multiple organ failure. 50 minutes. Dead.

You threw everything off your desk in anger. Nothing was adding up. The blood had been poisoned but there was nothing poisonous from the plant. The people in direct contact with Matyas were fine but the people who were nowhere near him are dead and dying and you had no more time to come up with a solution to save Mavek.

You scratched subconsciously at an itch on your arm until you realized your fingertips felt wet. When you looked down all you saw was blood. You could still make out the edges of what looked like the same rash Matyas had among the blood and skin that was hanging off your arm. It appeared necrotic, a symptom none of the others had presented. You poked at it lightly in horror, half expecting your entire arm to fall off, but you felt nothing. Aside from the skin falling off of your arm you felt fine.

Then there was a flash of heat so intense you had to sit down. Your vision was white and it felt like your temperature jumped from 98 to 103 with no warning. Waves of nausea hit you as you reached for the comm but you ended up knocking it to the floor in a daze. You fell to your knees to get it, trying desperately to call in a 911 to Bones. Your throat tightened as your heart sped up. You didn’t know what was anxiety and what was a symptom.

The tile flooring felt much cooler against your knees and arms and your nausea lifted briefly. You reached for the Comm and froze. There. Sitting on top of it. What looked like an insect. You forced yourself to concentrate on it, ignoring the white creeping into the edges of your vision. You fumbled for a sample jar, knocking several over before you managed to grab one large enough for the bug and the Comm.

The insect seemed to sense it’s freedom was being threatened, because it jumped from its perch on the Comm and started running towards the door. You threw yourself at it, clapping the cup down full force against the ground. It scuttled frantically around the cup, stabbing what looked like a small stinger against its plastic prison. You slipped the lid underneath and sealed the cup before making your way back to the desk. You grabbed your Comm on the way, dialing Bones as you picked up a pair of scissors.

“Please tell me you’ve got something.” You could tell he was tired.

You stabbed a small hole in the top of the jar for air. “Insect sting. Best guess is it’s essentially Chagas disease but sped up by a few years. Oh, and symptoms also include some kind of dermal necrosis.”

“None of the patients have exhibited signs of necrosis. There’s rashes but not…” You heard Bones curse.

“Yeah. If you could send a gurney my way it’d be much appreciated, doc. I’ll try to meet you halfway.” You hung up before Bones could say anything. There was only one voice you wanted to hear right now and it wasn’t his.

“Ashalik,” Spock said, “I thought you would be too busy to call.”

“Yes, but I found the cause of the illness,” you said, leaning against a wall to catch your breath. Your chest felt tight. “I’m heading to MedBay now to give the results to Dr. McCoy.”

“Are you all right? You sound a little breathless.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Always am around you.” You slid down the wall, energy draining from you quickly. You could almost picture Spock sitting in the Captain’s chair while Jim dealt with the emergency in MedBay. His eyebrow quirking up, cheeks tinged green. You hummed softly at the thought. “Tell me you love me.”

“You know I do. Tal-kam, is there something wrong? Are you-”

“No, I want to hear you say it, Spock. It always sounds better when you say it.” You could hear a slur in your voice and you knew Spock would hear it too. There were a few seconds of silence before he spoke.

“I ayasha du.” Spock said something else, but you weren’t quite sure what. Your eyes had slipped shut by now and the only thing you could hear was a soft ringing in your ears. You felt yourself tipping over but couldn’t do anything to stop it, doomed to lie there until the medics found you unconscious, smile still playing around the corners of your mouth.

You woke up to a stinging pain in your arm and a scratching in your throat. You coughed lightly around a tube and it felt like your entire chest was on fire. You tried to ignore it, breath around it, but it felt like you were choking until you heard your door open and a nurse ran to your bedside to take it out. You smiled weakly at her as she moved to adjust your feeding tube.

“Gave us quite the scare,” she said with a smile. “Though I suppose not as much as you gave him.” She nodded to your left and you tilted your head as far as you could to see Spock curled up in a chair asleep. “Hasn’t left your side in days. Not since he and Dr. McCoy worked out a treatment.” You smiled.

Your gaze seemed to rouse him, because he began to stir. He was on his feet the second he saw your eyes on him. He clasped your hand in his and pressed a kiss to your temple before leaning his forehead against yours. He said nothing, but you didn’t need him to. You understood.

Of course, Bones didn’t understand the intimacy of the moment and barged in with a tricorder and a hypo. Most of the symptoms were gone, but the arrhythmia seemed permanent so far just as it had with Mavek. It would require some more testing and medication but would be manageable.

“Until we’re sure it’s arrhythmia and not an extension of the symptoms, I don’t want doing anything strenuous. You can go back to work as long as you stay in a wheelchair that someone else pushes. Outside that, we’ll run a few cardiac stress tests in the lab, but you shouldn’t do any running or fighting or basically anything that would raise your heart rate.” He said the last few words pointedly towards Spock.

“I’m not sure why you’re addressing me, Doctor. I have no control over what-”

“He’s talking about banging,” Jim said, all smiles. He was leaning against the doorway like he’d just won the lottery. “No more early nights or late mornings or quickies down in the lab. That is, where you went all those times, right?”

The tips of Spock’s ears turned soft green. “I’m sure I don’t know-”

“How long have you guys been married,” Jim turned his questioning to you. “I mean, come on. I didn’t even know you guys were together and now lover boy over here is pining at your bedside and you have a ring around your neck. What’s it been? A few months?”

“Give or take a couple years,” you said, still smiling.

Jim stepped into the room fully, smacking Bones on the arm as he passed. “A couple years? Did you know, Bones?”

“None of my damn business,” Bones grumbled, smacking Jim back.

“Well then,” Jim said, rubbing his arm lightly, “I say it’s high time to celebrate then.”

“You deserve congratulations for discovering a new species of insect, especially one so deadly,” Spock said. “The discovery will save countless lives if future voyages are ever attempted.”

Jim threw an arm around Spock’s shoulders. “Is he always this boring? Because I definitely meant I’m throwing you guys a bachelor and bachelorette party.”

You laughed, but, with your throat still raw from the breathing tube, it came out more like a croak which lead to a cough which lead to Bones shuffling everyone but Spock out of the room. He pulled his chair closer to your bedside again and dropped his face in his hands. It looked like he’d aged a decade in the past week.

“I’m sorry I scared you, ashayam.” You ran your fingers through Spock’s hair. His shoulders shook softly but he made no noise and you wanted so badly to hold him. “Come here.” You tugged gently on his hands until he looked at you. You scooted to the edge of the bed, and Spock took the hint, crawling onto the biobed with you until you were just a tangle of limbs and tubes and tears.

“I ashaya du, k’diwa,” you said, still stroking Spock’s hair as he laid against your chest. “In sickness and in health.”

Tags:�� @outside-the-government @martinawalker @thevalesofanduin @goingknowherewastaken @thefanficfaerie @mysteriously-lost-forever @feelmyroarrrr @yukki-art  @pabegay1 @bolontiku  @brooke-taylor0323 @anotherotter

[gusu-emilu]

sometimes I forget (2/3)

chapter two: grieve what I happen to grieve

Ship: Jiang Cheng / Wen Ning

Summary: Wen Ning and Jiang Cheng travel to Dafan Mountain to find the cure to Lan Wangji’s fever. Their animosity results in a very strained partnership, which only becomes more complicated when Jiang Cheng develops the fever too. But along the way, they address the scars that haunt them and find something new in each other.

< Ch. 1 | Ch. 3 > | Art

Post-Canon, Rated T - read on AO3 or on Tumblr below

Wen Ning stood up. “I-I’d like to visit the memorial I made with A-Yuan. I’ll be back soon.”

Jiang Cheng grunted with indifference.

Wen Ning headed out, but he had only taken a few steps when he heard, “Wen Qionglin.”

He turned back to Jiang Cheng, who had now opened his eyes.

“I’ll come with you.”

“Take care of yourself,” Wen Ning said. “That’s what you should do.”

They fell silent for a few moments, staring at each other.

Reluctantly, Jiang Cheng reached out to receive Sandu. “Fine. I won’t fly.” He turned abruptly and strode down the forest path.

Walking the rest of the way did not cost too much time. The village on Dafan Mountain was closer than they realized.

At first, Jiang Cheng’s only noticeable symptoms of the Four-Sunsets Flu were a slight temperature and haggard breathing. But by the time they reached the foot of the mountain, Jiang Cheng’s skin was slick with sweat, his hands shook, his knees gave out.

They still had a tall summit to climb. Jiang Cheng was not strong enough for it.

Knowing Jiang Cheng would be too stubborn to agree to wait behind, Wen Ning said, “Let me carry you.”

Jiang Cheng pressed his sword into the dirt like a cane, his limbs wobbling. Beads of sweat appeared at his temples. “I’d sooner die than let you carry me twice in one night.”

This did not offend Wen Ning. Nothing much out of people’s mouths did anymore. Yet, he realized, his usual desensitization was not why this time, he didn’t mind the harsh words.

It was because behind all the spite, there was humor in Jiang Cheng’s voice. Dark and bitter, but still humor.

Wen Ning did not know what to do with that.

“It’s morning now,” he found himself saying. “So it doesn’t count.”

Jiang Cheng scoffed and started up the mountain trail. He struggled after just a few steps, his legs uncooperative, his brow knitted.

Wen Ning watched from below, waiting for him to give up.

He was soon forced to a stop. Jiang Cheng clutched the mountain terrace on the side of the trail and hunched over, his breath unsteady. He shot a glare down at Wen Ning that looked like he wanted to hurl rocks at him.

“Will you agree?” Wen Ning said as he easily scaled the slope.

“Just get it over with.”

Instead of carrying Jiang Cheng bridal style like before, this time Wen Ning carried him on his back. A piggyback ride did not have the chance of eye contact. Less awkward.

But this was an even more vivid reminder of the night he rescued Jiang Cheng from Lotus Pier. This was exactly how Wen Ning had carried him.

The pressure of Jiang Cheng’s weight was different—partly because Jiang Cheng was much older now, partly because everything felt different as a fierce corpse—but the sensation was still too similar to be comfortable.

They reached the summit.

Hazy orange-blue light of the morning’s earliest hours crept through the sky and cloaked the village. The Dafan Wen residence was a phantom of its former self, abandoned and decaying. Raiders had scrounged through it multiple times over the years.

Despite the village’s decline, Wen Ning knew these paths of caked yellow earth all too well. It was still the same home he had spent his childhood in.

How fitting, that at the beginning of Wei Wuxian’s second life, he and Wen Ning had reunited at this village. The place where everything had started for Wen Ning. The place where part of his soul was snatched by the Goddess Statue, leaving him spiritually distorted and unable to fully cultivate, and enabling Wen Ruohan to use him as collateral against his sister.

The place where years later he destroyed that same Goddess Statue at Wei Wuxian’s command. Felt the rust of catharsis at defeating his childhood monster.

The place where Wen Chao had turned Wen Ning’s entire family into puppets just to ambush Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji. Where the remnants of his clan were taken captive by the Jins, marched to Qiongqi Path for forced labor.

And now the village was dead.

Wen Ning had thought that constructing a memorial here with A-Yuan would finally grant him peace about his family.

It was foolish to have thought that. Nothing ever ends so easily.

“Are you going to put me down?” Jiang Cheng said.

Jiang Cheng had been purposely sagging his weight for the last half minute, Wen Ning realized.

“Sorry.” Wen Ning released him.

Jiang Cheng held his forehead in his hand and swayed back and forth.

“Can you stand?”

“Of course,” Jiang Cheng snapped, despite how he leaned onto the wall of a house and then sank to the ground. His face flushed pink.

“W-W-Wait here.” Wen Ning hurried down the dusty road of the village.

“Where are you going? Wen Qionglin!”

As Wen Ning turned the corner, he stumbled a bit at the sound of his courtesy name.

Jiang Cheng had not called him ‘Ghost General.’

It felt strange. But not unpleasant.

Wen Ning rummaged through the village for any trace of herb satchels or bottles of tonic that might have been left behind. The Dafan Wen Clan’s medicine worked better and faster than any other. He could find something to get Jiang Cheng back on his feet before they hunted for the final cure to the Four-Sunsets Flu.

But it was a slim chance that anything would be left. Thieves had stripped the buildings bare. They had even stolen the tattered red curtains that used to hang over the doorways.

Wen Ning regretted not going through the village when he visited with A-Yuan, to recover what few items remained. Instead, he had avoided the village and only gone to his clan’s burial grounds.

Somehow, it had been easier to visit the graves. Those were supposed to be lifeless. His home was not.

He sped up his search. He did not want to spend any more time in these empty houses.

In one of the elders’ huts, he found a secret stash of medicine in the wall. He hugged it all into his arms, hoping that he wouldn’t break anything, and ran back outside to where Jiang Cheng lay limp against a wall. He was farther down the street than where Wen Ning had left him. He must have tried to follow Wen Ning and not gotten far before falling back down.

Wen Ning squatted down and dumped the medical supplies in front of Jiang Cheng. A jumble of bottles, vials, and jars rolled in the dry yellow dirt.

“What is all that?” Even when collapsed from fever and exhaustion, Jiang Cheng still managed to channel enough sass into his voice for a man and a half. He wrinkled his nose. “It smells awful.”

Wen Ning had no sense of smell as a fierce corpse, so this was new information. Although it didn’t especially matter to him if Jiang Cheng disliked the scent.

Rearranging the bottles, Wen Ning said, “I might be able to give you some temporary treatment.”

“What’s the point when the cure is here? Don’t waste our time.” Jiang Cheng eyed the bottles suspiciously as Wen Ning lifted them one by one to decipher the faded labels. “How do you know those aren’t rotten? You’re going to poison me.”

“They keep for a long time.” When Jiang Cheng scowled more, Wen Ning said, “It might take a while to find the cure. So I’d like Jiang Wanyin to have some strength back before we start searching.”

“What does it matter to you?”

Wen Ning looked up from the bottles. “You shouldn’t come on this journey and then make me do all the work.”

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes. “Fine, then. Whatever it takes for me to not be your patient any longer.”

He was surprisingly cooperative as Wen Ning held out wrinkled old herbs and a vial of bitter fluid. He took the medicine without a complaint, other than a few coughs and a disgusted grimace.

Several minutes later, some of the redness left his cheeks, and he was able to stand. “You better not have poisoned me,” he muttered as he brushed dust off his robes. “Where do we find the cure?”

“The remedy hasn’t been needed for centuries. All I remember from my family’s story is something about an ice-blue flower that blooms on this mountain at night. But I’ve never seen it.”

“That’s it?” Jiang Cheng yelled. Having regained his strength, his voice had also regained its volume. “We came all the way here and that’s all you have to go on?”

You could’ve asked before deciding if it was worth it to come, Wen Ning thought. But what he said was, “We have to check if any ancient texts were left behind. They might have the answers.”

“Shouldn’t you already know if there are records left? Didn’t you come here with that Lan boy?” he said, as if he didn’t know Lan Sizhui’s name. “What kind of descendant doesn’t guard the relics of his clan?”

Wen Ning winced at this. Jiang Cheng had an unmatched skill of firing shots of criticism posed as questions. But masked or not, his words cut just as sharp.

Back then, Jiang Cheng had lost everything. He had rebuilt Yunmeng from the ground up. Fought for the Jiang Clan, clawing its way back to power, leaving his people in want of nothing but an heir.

What had Wen Ning done for his clan but let it die?

Was the pain of their loss not equal? After Jiang Cheng’s parents were murdered and his city was burnt to cinders, he still had the strength to create something from the ashes. Was Wen Ning too weak to even lay eyes on the ashes that remained of his own clan?

Jiang Cheng cleared his throat. The sound brought Wen Ning back to the present.

No, he decided. Their situations had not been equal.

Wen Ning did not have the foothold that Jiang Cheng had. For years he was chained up by the Jins, tormented and experimented on. Stripped of his consciousness by nails shoved in his head. Even if he had the freedom to try to rebuild, there had been no foundation left. His clan had been wiped out.

Why would he want to create something from ashes as dead as he was, when there was life elsewhere?

“A-Yuan,” he found himself saying.

He did not look at Jiang Cheng, but he felt the man’s gaze boring into him.

“A-Yuan is my clan now. And A-Yuan has been granted a new life with the Lans.”

He did not dare voice it, but to himself, he said, Wei Wuxian is one of mine as well.

When he turned to Jiang Cheng, the man was staring at the ground, his eyes frail and downcast. “I…”

His fingers shifted in his clenched fists, as if he were channeling whatever he had to say into his hands—perhaps into Zidian—instead of the air. Then he set his jaw and marched down the narrow street, leaving Wen Ning behind.

* * *

They scavenged through the village until noon, searching for ancient Wen texts. They stopped every hour for Wen Ning to prepare another dose of medicine for Jiang Cheng. The treatment kept him upright, but each dose was less effective as his condition worsened.

They did not have much time. Two sunsets, and the fever would reach its peak.

They overturned the few pieces of furniture left in the buildings and gouged every crack in the walls. All they found were a few keepsakes—a necklace, a burlap sack, a compass—that Wen Ning set aside so he would not have to imagine the faces of the people they had once belonged to.

Nothing remained of the Dafan Wen Clan’s medical literature.

Now Wen Ning and Jiang Cheng stood in the dusty street, baking under the hot sun, feeling as hopeless and bleak as the ghost town. Jiang Cheng’s face was bright red. His hands were trembling slightly. The midday heat was not helping his fever.

Panting, he retreated into the shade of one of the houses. “I thought Wei Wuxian said we would find the cure here.” It was meant to sound accusatory, but most of the bite had been sapped out of his voice.

“We will,” said Wen Ning. “The ice flower grows somewhere hidden on this mountain. I just don’t know where it is or how to use it.”

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes. He shook his head disapprovingly for a few moments. Then, “What about the cave?”

“The Goddess Statue’s shrine?”

He nodded.

“I think it will be empty. But we can try.” Wen Ning started on the path to the cave. He looked back when Jiang Cheng didn’t follow.

Jiang Cheng still leaned against the wall, avoiding eye contact.

“…Do you need me to carry you?”

Jiang Cheng did not answer, so Wen Ning took it as a yes. He heaved Jiang Cheng onto his back and headed for the cave.

It was strange to see the shrine with no Goddess Statue. As much as Wen Ning hated the goddess that stole part of his soul and killed his father, he wished that she still loomed over the cave floor, frozen in her haunted dance. At least that would be something on Dafan Mountain that wasn’t gone.

Wen Ning let Jiang Cheng rest against one of the rock formations beside the shrine as he searched the cave. There were a few offerings remaining from when the villagers at the foot of Dafan Mountain used to worship the goddess, but those had long since rotted away.

Having found nothing useful, Wen Ning wandered aimlessly around the cave, more to have something to do than to continue searching. He trailed a hand along the wall and wished that the stone beneath his hand felt real like it used to. It used to send a chill along his arm, giving him goosebumps. Now his body was just as cold as the stone, and he felt nothing.

If I don’t find the cure, will Lan Wangji and Jiang Wanyin die?

He tried not to think about it, but fear was eating away at him. He could not be responsible for more deaths. Especially not two people that Wei Wuxian loved.

But what hope was there?

A-Jie…I need your help…

If only Wen Qing had survived instead. She had always been smarter than Wen Ning, more perceptive than him. She would have known how to find the cure.

After a few more pointless circles around the cave, Wen Ning returned to Jiang Cheng.

“I don’t know what to do,” Wen Ning said.

Jiang Cheng looked up, his eyelids heavy. “You will.”

Wen Ning sat down front of Jiang Cheng, feeling hopeless.

And angry.

Resentful energy swirled inside him. He knew that it wasn’t his fault that he couldn’t find the cure, and neither was it Jiang Cheng’s, but for some reason he wanted to hit both of them.

“I wish I knew what to do.”

“Do you want to get us killed?” Jiang Cheng yelled.

Wen Ning flinched backward. “W-W-What’s wrong?”

“You can’t make wishes here! That goddess has stolen the souls of people who made wishes in her presence!”

Wen Ning looked at the empty space behind the goddess’s former shrine.  “But her statue is destroyed. She isn’t here anymore.”

Jiang Cheng narrowed his eyes. “I don’t trust that. Her spirit could still be around.”

Her spirit…

Something clicked in Wen Ning’s mind. “What if she can still be summoned?”

“Even worse, then. That goddess is a nuisance.”

“We should summon her.”

Jiang Cheng looked at Wen Ning like he was crazy. “For what?”

But before Wen Ning could answer, Jiang Cheng had already turned his attention to the shrine. His brow softened. “You’re right…if her spirit is still here, she might be able to help us find the cure.”

Wen Ning scooted closer to Jiang Cheng. “Can you summon her?”

“Can I summon her? Your clan lived here. You should do it.”

“I…” Wen Ning stared at the ground. “I can’t. I’m not alive.”

“Oh.” Jiang Cheng frowned. There was regret in his voice. He dug his fingers into the stone wall as he tried to push himself up to stand. “Sometimes I forget.”

Wen Ning meant to go forward and help him, but instead he sat frozen in place, repeating Jiang Cheng’s words in his mind.

Sometimes I forget.

As hard as Wen Ning searched for sarcasm or disdain or malice, there was none. He had said it simply, sincerely.

With his cold, stiff body, and his empty eyes, and his skin streaked with black veins, who could forget that the Ghost General was not alive?

“A little help?” Jiang Cheng said.

“S-S-Sorry!” Wen Ning hurried to support Jiang Cheng as they approached the altar, his mind still spinning.

Jiang Cheng sank to his knees and pulled a stick of incense from a qiankun pouch in his robes. “Leave me be.” Once Wen Ning backed away, Jiang Cheng lit the flame as an offering and closed his eyes.

Wen Ning imagined the rich, musky fragrance of the incense that he could no longer smell.

Another reminder that he was, indeed, not alive.

And yet…

Sometimes I forget.

He stepped closer to Jiang Cheng.

The incense smoke snaked through the air in front of Jiang Cheng. His face, usually dour and strong-lined, was calm and soft as he fell into the trance to summon the goddess.

Everyone knew that Wen Ning was not alive.

The juniors, as much as they enjoyed his company, were careful to avoid his cold hands and the resentful energy that bound his body together. Once they had grown comfortable enough with him, they even started making playful jokes about his un-dead condition. The banter helped Wen Ning feel better about life as a fierce corpse. But it also continued to remind him that he was different now, and he could not change it.

Lan Wangji did not seem to mind his presence, but Wen Ning always felt like he was intruding on the Cloud Recesses, even though it was his new home.

Perhaps a few of his family members had accepted him as the same A-Ning they one knew, but they were all gone now.

And Wei Wuxian…

Although Wei Wuxian had done all he could to make Wen Ning feel human again, and asserted his humanity to anyone who questioned it, he had also transformed Wen Ning into his weapon. Into the Ghost General.

Wen Ning would have killed for Wei Wuxian. It had been his choice. And with one note of Chenqing, Wen Ning would kill again, if his friend needed him to.

But would that still be his choice?

Who could be controlled this way other than a fierce corpse?

So then how could Jiang Cheng, the man who had raged against anyone who dared speak the name of the Ghost General, who hated Wen Ning for making his nephew an orphan, who refused to let Wen Ning set foot in Lotus Pier—how could he so casually ‘forget’ what Wen Ning was?

Suddenly, Jiang Cheng gasped and jerked awake. His eyes were wide. Disbelieving.

“J-Jiang Wanyin?”

Jiang Cheng seemed to struggle for words. He turned his head toward Wen Ning. He almost looked like he felt guilty about something.

“Go outside.”

“What…what happened?”

“Go.”

Wen Ning obeyed and hurried out of the cave. He looked over his shoulder at Jiang Cheng and saw him remove a small tan pouch from his robes.

What is he doing?

Wen Ning decided that it was best to respect Jiang Cheng’s demand for privacy. Anything to get them closer to the cure.

He found a comfortable place to sit and played with a handful of pebbles as he waited, rolling them through his fingers, wondering if the sensation felt a bit more defined than usual.

Several minutes later, there was a scuffing sound. He glanced up, expecting to see a standing figure, but had to redirect his eyes downward to where Jiang Cheng was crawling on the ground at the mouth of the cave.

Wen Ning jumped up. He helped Jiang Cheng to his feet, holding him upright. “Did you summon the goddess?”

A peculiar expression appeared on Jiang Cheng’s face. He shifted his jaw in discomfort, his dark eyes darting away. “I summoned something.”

“What was it? Does it know how to find the cure?”

“The Ever-Frozen Flower grows in the center of the western forest. Its nectar is the cure. It only blooms for a few moments at the coldest point of the night, and we need to harvest its nectar while its open.”

“Great! That’s it, then!”

Jiang Cheng nodded. He looked a bit happier than before, but still troubled by something.

Wen Ning noted that Jiang Cheng did not tell him what he had summoned.

Well, that was less important. They would have hours to wait until night when the blossom opened, so Wen Ning had time to ask again later.

This evening would be the second-to-last sunset before the fever fully consumed its victims. They had found a lead just in time.

“There’s hope,” Wen Ning said. “Thank you, Jiang Wanyin.”

Jiang Cheng scoffed. “It was your idea.”

“But I wouldn’t have been able to do it. I’m…it’s good that you came.”

Jiang Cheng leaned away, which didn’t get him very far as Wen Ning’s arm was wrapped around his torso. “Er. Right. Let’s get out of the sun.”

His fever had already gotten hotter. He radiated heat so strongly that even Wen Ning felt it as he held the man’s shaking body.

It had been a long time since Wen Ning had this much physical contact with someone. Especially someone so…warm.

“R-Right.” Wen Ning guided him back into the shadows of the cave.

Wen Ning prepared another dose of medicine, taking his time now that there was no rush to rummage through the village or find clues. They had their answer. They just needed to get the timing perfect to harvest the Ever-Frozen Flower’s nectar. Wen Ning felt lighter now, relieved that a cure was in sight.

“Here.” He held out the medicine to Jiang Cheng, who was all but melting from the fever by now.

He swallowed it immediately. “Thank you.”

Wen Ning shifted his weight as he kneeled in front of Jiang Cheng. Something felt off.

Since when did we start thanking each other for things?

“There’s only one dose left,” Wen Ning said. “There wasn’t much to begin with. I can get more medicine later.”

Jiang Cheng looked better already. “At least this sunset isn’t the last one. We have a full night to get the cure.” He rested the back of his head on the cave wall and closed his eyes. “Let’s hope whoever named this Four-Sunsets Flu didn’t get excited and overcount.”

Suddenly Wen Ning was laughing.

Jiang Cheng peeked at Wen Ning with half-open eyes. The corners of his mouth turned up. “You should know better than to laugh at a dead man.”

“You aren’t dead.”

“I sure feel like it.” His shoulders relaxed as he leaned into the wall more.

“…Jiang Wanyin?”

“What?”

Wen Ning stood up. “I-I’d like to visit the memorial I made with A-Yuan. I’ll be back soon.”

Jiang Cheng grunted with indifference.

Wen Ning headed out, but he had only taken a few steps when he heard, “Wen Qionglin.”

He turned back to Jiang Cheng, who had now opened his eyes.

“I’ll come with you.”

Wen Ning could only stare at him in disbelief.

He wants to visit my clan’s burial grounds? Is the flu affecting his mind too?

Then he realized that Jiang Cheng was staring at him, and he should have responded by now. “Oh—Oh, you should rest. It’s hot outside.”

“If you’d prefer to go alone, that’s fine.”

Wen Ning gently clasped his hands together. “No…that’s not what I meant.”

After a few moments, Jiang Cheng raised an arm, indicating for Wen Ning to help him up.

What a strange sight. The Jiang Clan Leader reduced to a feverish puddle, waiting to be picked up by a dead person he despised, to go visit more dead people. Wen Ning could’ve burst into laughter again.

* * *

With Wen Ning’s arm strapped around Jiang Cheng’s torso, they bowed in front of the memorial together, slightly out of sync.

The memorial that Wen Ning and A-Yuan had built was not too large. It was a carved stone that sat to the side of the older memorials in the Dafan Wen burial grounds. Simple and rudimentary, but crafted with care. Wen Ning could not imagine it any other way. Their branch of the Wen Clan had not been one for ostentation.

The bodies of Wen Ning’s family were not here. He did not even know if the Jin Clan had given them a proper burial. It filled him with rage to think about it.

The most he could do for his family’s spirits was to act like they were here. To hope that after he and A-Yuan honored them with the memorial, they had found their way home.

“A-Jie, it’s me. I hope you’ve been well.” Wen Ning’s throat felt dry. “A-Yuan has been growing up. He’s very happy with the Lans. You’d be proud of him.”

He pulled from his robes a small canister of dried fruit that he had packed before leaving for the journey, and placed the jar on the ground. “A-Jie, I b-b-brought apricots for you.” They had always been her favorite.

Suddenly Wen Ning felt heavy. The air was heavy, the sunlight was heavy.

Guilt struck him. He should have brought some of Uncle’s favorite liquor, and some rice cakes for Granny, and—

I miss you.

He should have been with them.

But now, how could he die?

What a cruel trick of fate. He was a walking reminder of what had become of the Dafan Wen, left behind to carry on their bloodline with no blood.

As he stood before the memorial, he felt phantom touches from years ago.

A hand in his.

He remembered lying in bed, just before falling asleep. Wen Qing held his hand. She made the bed tilt a little when she sat on the end of it, creating a tiny slope for Wen Ning to lean closer to her.

She loved music, but she was terrible at singing, so if Wen Ning wasn’t too sleepy he’d hum a song for her. It made soothing vibrations in his chest. Humming always felt the best when it was for his sister.

After he finished the song and began drifting off to sleep, Wen Qing squeezed his hand every so often, letting him know she was still there.

Then he remembered sitting on Granny’s lap. Feeling the subtle rocking of her body as she weaved red thread into a tassel she gave to Wen Ning. It was a charm for luck and protection. Wen Ning carried it with him everywhere.

He lost it three years later while exploring a forest. Granny had not been mad. She just weaved him another. By then, Wen Ning had grown too big to sit on her lap, so he sat at her feet instead to watch her weave, feeling warmth on his back from the small fire crackling behind him.

He didn’t know where that tassel from Granny was now.

He remembered Wen Qing’s hand on his forehead. Those gentle pats that she always gave him. Sometimes soft, sometimes chiding, but always loving. How she had to stand up on tip-toes to reach him once he got too tall.

A flash in his mind. He was overwhelmed with pain of the labor camp at Qiongqi Path. Blisters on his hands from chipping away the carvings of the Wen Clan to replace them with murals of the Jin Clan.

Hypocrites.

Broken bones in his legs when he didn’t obey. Agony that had only been bearable because he shared it with his family.

And then—a wooden spear through his chest. Ghosts that tore at him. Darkness and freezing cold.

Crinkly papers stuck all over him, and hard rock under his back. Wei Wuxian and Wen Qing’s breath on his neck as they pleaded for him to come back, and how desperately he wished he could.

The day he did wake up, nothing felt the same. Not even his family embracing him in celebration, or Wen Qing hugging him tighter than she ever had before.

But he had felt her tears of joy—warm droplets on his dead skin—and that made him feel a little more alive.

He wished that he could cry now. That he had tears to drop into the dirt below the memorial, and maybe his tears would make Wen Qing a little more alive.

A hand in his.

The day he and Wen Qing stood before Jinlintai, Wen Ning had given his sister’s hand one last squeeze.

Why couldn’t he squeeze his sister’s hand again, and let her know that even now, he was still here?

A-Jie, please come to your next life soon. I will search until I find you.

Jiang Cheng was trembling as Wen Ning held him.

He hadn't been shaking so much before. Had the hot sun made the fever worse?

“Why did she choose Wei Wuxian?” Jiang Cheng said. His voice was quiet.

All Wen Ning could manage was a confused grunt in response.

“She gave her life for him.”

The shaking stopped.

“I should’ve been the one to do that!”

Wen Ning did not know how to react. Who would have expected that at his own family’s memorial, it would not be he who cried out, but the man who let them die? Jiang Cheng had feelings for Wen Qing once, he suspected, but he never would have thought they ran this deep.

“Wei Wuxian had already given up so much to let us live in peace a little longer,” Wen Ning said quietly. “It was the least we could do in return.”

Jiang Cheng gave him a perplexed look, as if Wen Ning had said something offensive and out of place. Then his expression melted into unease and he quickly turned away, like he was afraid of Wen Ning discovering something in his eyes.

Then Wen Ning understood. He had been talking about Jiang Yanli.

Both of them were mourning their older sisters.

Wen Ning decided that it would be kinder to pretend he didn’t know Jiang Cheng’s true thoughts. “She did like you,” he said.

Jiang Cheng shifted, but didn’t respond.

“Although she wished that you stood up for us. We all did. But in a way, we understood. No one’s position was easy back then.”

Stillness. Only the numb feeling of Jiang Cheng in his arms.

“You had your clan to worry about. And there was…” Wen Ning trailed off. There had been Jiang Yanli for Jiang Cheng to worry about, but it was better not to say that.

Jiang Yanli had gotten married while the Wens lived at the Burial Mounds. She had visited them, given Wen Ning soup he couldn’t taste, but he appreciated that soup more than most meals he had when he was still alive.

When Jiang Yanli visited, she had even let him see her bridal dress.

And I killed her husband.

Her own death was just as terrible. It hadn’t been at Wen Ning’s hand, but it might as well have been, linked as his sins were with Wei Wuxian’s.

Jiang Yanli would not have died if Wen Ning had been able to control himself at Qiongqi Path.

And neither would have Wen Qing.

A-Jie...

A thought that Wen Ning had been pushing down rose to the surface of his mind.

Was Wei Wuxian’s life more important than Wen Qing’s?

She had warned Wen Ning to stay away from Wei Wuxian. Yet he had chased after the boy over and over, first only doing small things like stealing Wen Qing's medicine to give to him, but eventually bringing Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng, and Jiang Yanli to Yiling as fugitives, when his sister had never asked to save them.

At the Burial Mounds, Wen Ning had tried to convince her not to turn herself in to the Jins. She hadn't listened.

But it was Wen Ning who owed the most to Wei Wuxian. Wen Qing had made enough sacrifices.

It should have been Wen Ning who went to Jinlintai. Only Wen Ning.

I should’ve protected her.

Would things have really been different had Jiang Cheng protected the Wens? Would Wen Qing still be alive?

His mind drifted back to the memorial in front of him, to Jiang Cheng, who now felt a little more solid in his arms.

“It’s okay,” Wen Ning said. “Caring about my family too late is better than never.”

“Don’t act like it’s worth anything now,” Jiang Cheng said bitterly. “You shouldn’t be so quick with empty words like that.”

“I didn’t mean that I forgive you. I don’t.”

Jiang Cheng shrugged and looked away from the memorial.

Wen Ning stared at the jar of dried apricots on the ground. It was such an inadequate offering for his sister, but he knew she would be happy with them anyway. She had never asked as much of Wen Ning as she should have. “There are others who will forgive you no matter what.”

Jiang Cheng began trembling again. Perhaps he was still thinking about his family.

Or maybe this time, it was Wen Ning who was trembling. Their movements were starting to blend together the longer they stood in front of the memorial.

They were not friends. Even by a stretch, they could barely be called allies. But if they were together right now, then they should be together, shouldn’t they?

Wen Ning took Jiang Cheng’s hand and squeezed it.

Jiang Cheng glanced down at their interlaced hands.

Wen Ning was not meant to touch the living. Not even A-Yuan accepted his touch without a shiver. Yet this felt natural, like it was the only thing meant to happen right now.

“I miss my sister too,” Wen Ning said, deciding to stop pretending that he didn’t know Jiang Cheng was thinking about Jiang Yanli.

“Your sister…your sister was a good person,” Jiang Cheng said.

“So was yours.”

The sound of Jiang Cheng’s breath became uneven, then slowly steadied. “...So are you.”

* * *

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this chapter, you can be a supportive sibling like Jiang Yanli by liking, reblogging, and visiting me on AO3.

Ch. 3 >

[tutti-writes]

Let’s Play a Game of Ghost or Hallucination

You’re dead.

           You’re gone. You’ve kicked the bucket. You saw the light. You are no longer alive. Alive and you are now mutually exclusive entities. You have run out of time. You are six feet under. You gave up the ghost. You went out for a pack of smokes and ended up in the gutter. You pulled the trigger and it worked. You are dead. You are a once was. You are a has been. You are fucking goddamned wasted.

           You’re dead.

There’s a lot of living people do without ever being alive.

           FUCK! Another wasted hour on a deadbeat score. I sit up and crouch over the steel bench, warming the goosebumps popping on my arms with the rub of my hands. I cannot say I am particularly surprised. I pushed the embalming fluid through Mortimer Saperstein’s blotchy purple shoulder almost four days ago. The effects of the fluid wear off by day two; day three if the person really fucking believed in something. No, Mortimer was a goddamned Catholic. You can’t get a day three out of shoulder tapping and breadcrumbs, let alone a day four.

           A huff and a sigh expel from my lips causing a white puff to form as I shove the frozen Mr. Saperstein back into the freezer once more. My dry cracked fingers squeeze my temple as I turn around to scan the area for who could quell this ache. Fuck, I needed a fix and I needed it bad.

           I take a spin around the room, opening and closing the metal bins in search of some morsel not gone stale of fridge aftertaste and rotting innards….

Now for the ever-popular Morgue Styles of the Stiff and Lifeless, featuring Hedy Lincoln, Rose DeMastris, and Leeroy Ginkin. Hedy was an art teacher from Pekin whose rollover time in the peace movement of the sixties earned her a fine for doping it up in the oncology bathroom just before she croaked.  Rose studied English Literature in Chicago until a wealthy proctologist persuaded her into mastering the domestic life. She died surrounded by family, without a book in sight. Lastly, poor Leeroy. Leeroy led his life fighting the good fight. From becoming a respected black soldier in WWII to being beaten by police at a peaceful protest. What a hero! He froze to death alone in a back alley, homeless.

           Goddammit! Fuck! Shit! Damn! Hell! Fuck on a stick on a brick none of these yesterday’s headlines will work. Hedy and Rose will get their time in the casket spotlight tomorrow morning, a week after their arrival. I’m not going to risk fucking up my work for a less than ten percent chance of a high, no matter how devout Rose was.  It’s been two weeks since Leeroy came to join us and we still can’t find his family. Three weeks since the subzero temperatures petrified Leeroy’s feeble shivering body causing his organs to shut down one by one until not even a last breath was left.

           BAM! The sound of my slamming Leeroy’s slot shot through the room.  I glance up at my metallic reflection in the locker. Dark brown twists matted and rested in waves of a tangled nest of unwashed, unbrushed hair. A complexion paler than beach sand barely reflected against the white walls behind. White walls are my tiny body’s camouflage. The most prominent feature beyond the dip in the bridge of the nose was the dark smudging circles encasing the startling light green eyes. Part of the bruise looking came from unwashed eyeliner, the other half from four nights without sleep.

           This is what you did with your life. You took the heaping piles of money your fucking Romeo and Juliet parents left you and bought a fucking funeral home. Not a pony, not a car, not  a goddamned Italian Villa….but a hearse and a mortuary.

BEEBOOPBEEBOOOP…..

           The sound of my cell phone breaks me from my moment of pity. I dig the rectangular device from the black hole of a pocket in my charcoal colored smock and swipe over the scratches on the screen several times before it allows an answer.

           It’s Cadence.

           “Yeah?” I ask.

           “Got one for you. Coming in around back in five minutes,” she says and immediately hangs up.  

           The tension releases from my shoulders and I race up the stairs to tell my apprentice to get ready for a new arrival.

           “C’mon Marley! We got an un-live one!” I yell reaching the top of the stairs. Marley’s obnoxiously large suede shoes appear in the kitchen entryway a second before the rest of his towering gangly self catches up. His tan skin appears darker in the shadowed entryway as he stands peeling a banana, shoving it whole into his mouth before speaking.

           “Y’know, I did not find that funny the first time you said it. I still don’t.” he manages to clearly say amidst the mushy chomps and hint of a British accent, the result of his living in London for twelve of his childhood years. He came to live with his aunt after his parents died in an accident. Maybe that is why I took him on as my first apprentice; some orphan bond or orphan hood or something. We both have dead parents, just his did not involve matching revolvers.

           “Look, I don’t have time to argue if Brits even have a sense of humor. Cadance has a new client for us to meet. Should be arriving any minute. So please, swallow your banana in your unusually large throat and make yourself useful.” I say, emphasizing the double entendre of his throat size until a red flush grazes over his modelesque cheek bones. I swear, if death did not fuck people up, he’d be in Hollywood.

           Marley rolls his iridescent mahogany eyes and shrugs his squared shoulders as the buzzer rings. His robin’s egg blue polo ripples catching the whites of the overhead light as he makes his way past the four tables adorned with fake flower arrangements. I stare down at the just flung grey patterned carpet to avoid the wind of the doors Marley just flung open. I chose grey to mask any stains, and carpet to muffle sounds of feet and falling. People are so unaware of how many of their loved ones tipped over like wine bottles being carried in.

           “Ms. Hugh, I believe we are going to need your help. This fellow is rather large.” Marley says.

           “Will you fucking not call me….” I begin.

           “Darcy.” He grins as a child in knowledge of their own mischief.

           We roll in our new resident, who Cadence calls Jason Malone. I ask how he bit the dust and she explains he literally bit it on a back road on his motorcycle. Not necessarily the smoke and glory most riders aim for, but I guess it is better than my last rough rider who died of dysentery in a men’s stall in Jersey. Cadence and I tuck Jason Malone in on top the of the cool metal frame of the morgue car before she departs. She waves through the thin window of as it shuts with a thud. Cadence hates how clinical the morgue smells so she always leaves quickly, but frosted guts and Lysol is the odor of home to me.

           “48. Wife. Children. Bloody hell grandchildren. Geesh, what a mess.” Marley exclaims flipping through the police and coroner reports, breathing deep heaving sighs. He keeps his empathy as a family crest, or as the only family he has left I’m not sure which. The iridescence in his eyes flicker to a dark, almost reaper black, as he turns to put down the file and pick up the disinfectant.

           “Marley, it’s late. Why don’t you call it a night? I got it.” I say, giving him an out to escape.

           “I’d rather stay and learn…” He begins.

           The grit of getting past the tinge of loneliness lingering on every syllable he spoke and getting to my oasis outweighed any faculty of loyalty to his teaching. “This is going to be a solo job, tonight. Got it?” It is past six in the evening. The family shouldn’t call for arrangements until tomorrow. Marley can compose himself tonight and deal with them tomorrow.

           “Yeah, yeah, yeah. If I’m to learn anything you’ve got to let me help sometime…” He said, drifting off in defeat as he saw my shrug of an care when the door drew shut.

           I begin the process and make Mr. Malone a sparkling gem, certified clean by scientists and moms everywhere. The needle goes into the artery of his right shoulder next to his chivalrous and patriotic tattoo of an eagle emerging from the American flag with U.S.S. Navy written underneath. The deep crimson and purplish hued blood drains and pours from the body like nectar in a sieve. When all the life juice finally drips from his veins I fill him back up with the fluid that makes people look like people and not rotting masticated meat from Thanksgiving dinner. I finish through the veins and replicate the procedure through the abdomen. And there lay Jason Malone, safe and soundless.

           Washing up I barely kept my fingers from twinging in anticipation. The lock clanked as I chained the door and dimmed the lights to where everything was barely detectable. Grabbing a syringe from the cabinet next to the washing station, I held it to get a reflection and smiled openly at the prize before extracting some of the embalming fluid from Jason’s tattooed shoulder.

           What do you believe? What is your life after death? Do you stay in your memories and relive your childhood and children? Do you anal fuck twelve virgins because you deserve it? Do you reach heaven’s gate? Do you stay here on earth reliving your homerun over and over? Do you find the cure to cancer? Do you sit with Buddha? Allah? God?

           This is what I find out. What you believe is what I get off on.

I sit back in my frigid chair and use my teeth and my right arm to wrap the tourniquet around and tie to reveal my vein. The needle pierces the already circular red marking and I breathe in relief.

           They ask:

How does she know what music my grandma likes?

           Why does she know the names of unknown corpses?

           Why does she seem so familiar to my brother/mother/aunt/sister?

           I’m not a fucking psychic. I’m not a fucking medium. I’m fucking high.

           I’m tripping balls on grannies’ memories. I’m getting fucked up on grandpa’s Jesus juice. I’m walking next to fucking John Lennon on a bed of clouds with your acid dipping uncle. I am watching your priest blow David Bowie dressed in feathers and glitter.  

           This is my stage and I must perform. In front of the bereaved I am the goddamned ringmaster and I light up the show. But here? Behind the curtain, I am the hallucinogenic spectator with popcorn and a beer. You die, I get fried.

           The rooms clinical atmosphere begins to shape shift as I hear the chain stretch and I jolt up with a start. The cart in front of me crashes and the needle spins into unknown places.

           “What the fuck!” I shout, looking heinously at the idiot who dared to disturb me.

           “Sorry Ms- I mean Darcy. But…the Malones just arrived.” He stammers.

           “Who?” I manage to say amidst the fluttering orbs of light around me.

           Marley points to the corpse on the slab. “Mr. Malones family is here to see about him.”

           The hallucinations pour from a liquid state to a solid and I freeze, staring wide-eyed back at Marley’s casual overcoat. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. An infinite amount of fucks for this situation. I am at the tipping point of nonsense and about to enter the green fields of Jason Malone’s eternal happiness when my own eternal damnation personified in Marley’s earnest voice slashes the whole illusion to pieces. I’m running in strides back to the reality line…

           “Darcy? Darcy? DARCY!” Marley’s voice turns to an almost hysteria as the clanks of him tying to barge through the door snap me to the present. “Darcy open the damn door!”

           “Alright, alright. Jesus, Marley, who knew you even had a pair of anything.” I assure him of my state of being in my own quip nature as I pull the chain out of it’s lock. Marley treads back a couple steps and looks me up and down, studying.

           “Are you alr-“He begins to ask.

           “I’m fine.” I bat back quickly.

           “But your eyes, they’re dark and your pupils are…”

           “And Oh My, grandma, what big teeth you have!” I reprimand sarcastically, cutting him to a place that makes him wince back in hurt.

           “Well, you look like shit and you smell ghastly.” Marley manages to say with a singe. I am actually impressed by his tone, but not enough to show it.

           “What I am is considerably irritated. I’ll use the back way and shower quickly, change, and be back in ten. Just stall, okay?” I state, and Marley begrudgingly offers a nod of adherence. I know he wants to ask more but there isn’t the time. He couldn’t have seen everything, but he saw enough to warrant an inquiry.  Thank the godless I installed the chain on the door.

Once Marley sways his dancers’ hips around and disappears to the upstairs I return to my state of frenzy as before he called my name. The door sweeps my hair behind me as I fling it as fast as it can open, searching the floor with eyes for any sign of the needle. Five fucking years of painstakingly careful execution of hiding my high ended at my own foil. Good job, Darcy, your common failure of crash and burn now comes to your favorite hobby.

On this episode of: Dude, Where’s My Needle? I hit the floor on hands and knees and scour the place to find my evidence. The jagged edges of my fingernails extend out in marks along a black tar highway. Wind brushes through my arms and around my waist as I stare forward to the dreamy fuchsia, orange, and burning yellow sunset horizon….

           Shit. I shake myself and the horizon fades black into the marble flooring. With a push, I jump from the floor and look at the standard doctor’s office plastic clock. Three minutes I lost on Mr. Malones highway ride. There’s no fucking time to find the damn needle.

A shine gleams off Jason Malone’s nose as I shut off the light. My fingers flip the switch back on and I walk in inches towards the corpse. There, atop the corpse like a birthday cake for a funeral, the needle stands up. The tip of the needle stuck directly in Jason’s wide bridged nose. I poke the top of the injector and it waves back and forth like a metronome. It’s real, I’m sure of it I think, as I grab it and fling it into the wastebasket before heading upstairs to my quarters.

I don’t stop to turn on the light and illuminate the catastrophe that I call my upstairs apartment. Trudge through, shower, move the fuck right along. No amount of makeup will ever cover the hollowness incased in a shell of a tiny little pale whiny bitch such as myself. Suck it up, fucker, you’ve got business to do. You do your best work while being barely alive.

           The echo of grinding my teeth ricochets in my brain as I stomp down the stairs. Fucking high cock blockers, this family, coming in here unannounced after hours. The dead may not keep hours, but I sure as hell do. I curse Jason Malone’s nightshade blue motorcycle and  put on my “condolences” face as I enter.

           Action! Time for the scene. Sweet docile funeral director enters stage left with a woeful demeanor and a basket full of tissues. She assures them their dearly departed is in the best of care while handing the grieved a napkin to wipe their fresh and relieved tears away. The director keeps decorum and shows the best salesman review of how to usher the dead a final farewell…

           “It’s about damn time you get here!” croaks a raspy male voice.

           Marley chimes in ahead of me, “Ms. Hugh, this is the Malone family. Everyone, this is Ms. Hugh, our director here at…”

           Each of the family members give me their names. Old lady grey-fro is first to tell me she is the poor Jason Malone’s mother, Blanche. To the left of her sits her leather clad biker gang appearing eldest daughter, Marie, who despite her appearance talks in a delicate voice. Next to Marie, pen and paper ready for notes and blonde hair disguising her face, a girl who says her name is Roe. Across the table Jason’s older daughter Mona attends to two children while her husband Brent introduces them. Seated to my right in a barely audible voice a petite woman tells me she is Jason’s wife, Diana.

           “Okay,” I say, “Now that I know at least your names, I think we can begin to talk about the arrangements if you are ready.” The quiet of reluctancy puts everyone to a silent moment. It’s the type of silence I hear nearly every day. The silence that screams, “No we’re not fucking ready!” No one is every fucking ready, especially not this crowd.

           An overpowering scent of musk chokes me as Grandma Blanche leans over passed any personal space and plants her bosom on my shoulders, adjusting her silver spectacles to look. “You see,” Blanch points… “right there…I want that one and….”

           “Jason….JASON….are you even listening to me? Bet you can’t hear a damn word I’m saying on that motorbike of yours. You love that motorcycle than you do your own mother! You hear me! I’m done!”

           I’m blinded by bright lights and the honking of a large vehicle……AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.

SMACK!

           “Mom doesn’t want that package, Grandma, she wants this one.” The voice said dragging me back to reality with a jolt. It was Mona’s manicured finger with I am sure some polish titled, “Slutty Pink” or “Tit Juice” or some other obnoxious name for fucking pink contrived by the bored and corporate. Tit juice nails Mona’s colored her thin lips in with almost the same color lipstick and rouge for her cheeks. She talked like a reject eighties popstar from New Jersey with hair to match.

           Blanch places a hand to her heart as if she’s a thespian of a great Shakespearean work in the deep south., “But, I am…”

           Mona cocks her head and points her index like a trigger, “I don’t care who the hell you think you are, but that’s my dad and over there is his motherfucking wife, so if you don’t just back off…”

           “I AM HIS MOTHER!!!!!” Blanche exploded, throwing both her hands in the air like this expression should render awe and applause from the audience instead of eye rolls.  “Fine, fine, FINE! I can see I’m not wanted here. None of my kids care about me. My grandkids don’t care about me. I’m leaving!” Blanche’s hair ignites in a grey fire as she leaves the room, but I know that’s just the hallucinogens…I think. Marie and Diana chase after her, but no one shouts, “FIRE” so it’s just me tripping balls. I can deal with their fucking crazy, I just have to keep my fucking unreal crazy separated from their crazy. Sometimes reality is more batshit than tripping balls on highway to heaven.

           “Now, mom, no one wants you to go anywhere. We want you here. But we..” I hear Marie tell her mother in as calming a tone as possible.

           “I don’t think my poor heart can take any more, Marie! No one knows how hard it is to be me right now. I’m his mother!” Blanche says in sobs that put the Academy to shame. The award of the night, however, did not fall to her, but to Mona. She leapt up, leaving behind a mist of hairspray and face powder behind her and shuffled out the door.

           “Oh, hell the fuck no!” she exclaimed as she walked out, her black dress flowing behind her like a cape in heroic flight to the villain. I don’t think I’d have a better vision stoned in the basement. Super Tit Juice rushed towards her grandmother followed by her sister and husband who ran passed me to hold her back. I went to the entrance to calm down the commotion when I felt a tug on the back of my skirt.

           I turn around to see a girl no more than five looking up at me. Her features were barely grown but enough to know she’d always have dainty features. She looked down and tugged at the hem of her floral dress before she asked, “Aren’t you the funeral lady?”

           “Yes, yes I am.” I say sweetly.

           “Where does he go now?” she asks genuinely. Her bangs tread around her eyeline giving the impression her eyes are twice the size than their normal state as the sea blues begin to flood with burgeoning tears. Fuck, I had to come up with something. Luckily, my extracurriculars make this occupational hazard easy.

           I bend my knees to reach her level and place her hand into mine. “You see, there is a bright green field and a never-ending stretch of highway, and he never has to get off his motorcycle. The skies are always clear and never rainy. And every evening has the most beautiful sunset where he can ride and never get weary.”

           “Are you sure?” she questions, pursing her thin lips together.

           I smile almost completely sincerely, the top of my overbite protruding over my lower lip, “You know what? I had a lot of those same questions when I lost my parents at a young age. It is one of those questions if you focus on too much, you’ll miss every real thing right in front of you searching for the afterlife. But I can assure you almost one hundred percent, he is where he believes is the happiest place for him.” The happiness shining on her face suggests she understands as much as a five-year-old can. The girl giggles and skips down the hallway.

           My head throbs as I turn back around to the screaming match between Blanche and Mona. Here we are ladies and gentlemen for another round of Family Smackdown! Here in the first corner sporting her turn of the century musk de old person and fanny pack, It’s Our Fair Lady Grey-Fro with the dramatics to keep you sighing and the pacemaker to keep her going, going, going.

In the adjacent corner, wearing her patent ant Pepto-Bismol colored and decades old everything, is Super Tit Juice! When she’s not busy fighting for family justice, she can be seen at the local dollar mart getting a fresh manicure for those cat scratches!

One-Two-Three- Let’s go! First strike comes from Grey fro with a swift, “I’m your grandmother you won’t treat like that!” But Super Tit Juice recoils quickly with a, “You’ve never been there for us!” Grey fro takes a few paces back to recover but then comes from behind with a “I’m not going to be around forever, you know! “Super TitJuice is no fool and grabs Greyfro by the head and body slams her with a, “It’s not about you right now! It’s about our dad and he’s dead!” One-Two-Three-Four-Five-Six-Seven-Eight-Nine-Ten. Victory!

“If you all are finished, we can adjourn back in the room. Otherwise, the police can escort you out.” I say, causing everyone to file in silently to the conference room.

Once seated, I begin, “Everyone here is very passionate, and that can be a good and bad thing. Sometimes it allows us to show those who have passed how much we love them. Sometimes it makes us say things we regret…And sometimes you can’t take back what you say before it’s too late,” I pause on my words and Blanche settles a little lower in her seat and looks away, “But what we can do now is sit here and decide together what Jason would have wanted. Jesus Christ, this little girl here acted with more common sense than any-“  the looks of bewilderment on everyone’s faces stopped me in my moment of rally.

           “Uh, Darce..” Marley interjects quizzically.

           “What” I asked.

           “What girl are you talking about?”

           “His granddaughter.”

           “Darcy, Mr. Malone only has grandsons.”

           Fuck.

[thelostcatpodcast]

THE LOST CAT PODCAST TRANSCRIPTS: S01 Ep03: The Hole Of The Leviathan

SEASON 1: EPISODE 3: THE HOLE OF THE LEVIATHAN

Episode released 28th  July 2014

http://thelostcat.libsyn.com/episode-3-the-hole-of-the-leviathan

The other day, while looking for my cat, I visited another plane of existence, I witnessed reality from a position of nowhere, and lost the colour in my left eye. How this happened was: The Hole Of The Leviathan has a pet rescue centre.

THE LOST CAT PODACAST, BY A P CLARKE, EPISODE 3: THE HOLE OF THE LEVIATHAN

People say if you press your belly button hard enough you turn inside out. People say, everything happens for a reason. People say, if you want a thing hard enough, you can make it happen.

People say the silliest of things, often with the most sincerest of tones.

Take my friend, who I had met down the pub for a drink, and to let him fix my radio. He enjoys drinking, and showing me how he knows how everything works. I enjoy drinking.

He always says ‘I’m certain’ at the end of his statements. I think he thinks it will make what he says more true.

For example:  “oh yeah, Your cat’ll definitely be at the Leviathan.,” he was saying with his fingers stuck in my radio. “I’m certain.”

“OK,” I replied.

“It’s obvious,” he concluded.

Don’t get me wrong, I love him, but I mean really. The more certain people sound, well, the more silly they sound. I think they think the talking will keep the darkness away. But if they would just stop talking for a moment they could hear the darkness already within them.

It is singing.

And if you visit the hole of the leviathans, half way up the high street, the darkness will sing in tune with the low moan emanating from the hole, pulsing in time with the tentacles rising up 100ft from it into the air.

I don’t know, Perhaps I am just in a bad mood. He is fixing my radio, after all.

Now the reason he was certain was: the low moan affects all the dogs and cats in the area. Possibly rabbits too: I am not an expert. Late at night they will sing along with it, lying with their heads upside down. A quiet, ululating whine that spiders shrink from.

It is a recognised phenomena that, if let off their leashes, pets will walk in concentric, predictable rings around the Hole Of The Leviathan. Locals simply let their dogs walk themselves as go and they have a coffee in the shop that opened next to the hole specifically to cater to them. The closer to the hole the animals get, the more docile they become.  Indeed you can see cats and birds lounging next to each other, all the way up the slowly pulsing tentacles that tower above the high street.

So you can see why it would be a natural fit for a pet rescue centre.

It is situated just under the right tentacle of the Leviathan. It takes all kinds of pets, and I had been assured they were very good at picking up strays. They have pop up markets every Wednesday. Squatters in the adjacent buildings put on gigs and other community events beneath the squamous shadow. For a large part of the community, The Hole Of The Leviathans is a very welcoming place, and a cultural centre for the local area.

The dark cloud thins above the Hole and sometimes the day breaks through. On good days the tentacles are bathed in sunlight. Really, it is lovely. You can navigate by them.

And anyway, what is a ‘low moan’? It sounds better than cars at any rate. If mixed with a steady harmonic of around 600hz, the result is quite relaxing to the human nervous system.  

People use it to go to sleep to.

Some have even ascribed aphrodisiac qualities to the low moan. But that’s musicians for you.

Here, have a listen. I will remove the background music and turn up the gain so you can hear it.

<low, slowly rising noise that sounds like an intergalactic storm crying into the void. Or something. Anyway, it gets really loud>

They say, if you listen long enough, you can hear someone calling for help.

I can’t say I have ever heard it. But what do I know?

My friend says that they are the sounds of lost souls, trapped there for ever. He says That once the void has you, it never let’s go.

“Really,” I say.

Because, honestly, I feel bad for the Leviathan. No one knew why it just stays where it is, stuck halfway out of the ground, never advancing, never retreating, and with cats lounging around on its tentacles. Does it know that its main effect on the world is to help children sleep at night? Poor thing.

Quite suddenly he loudly exclaimed “There!” and held up my old radio. “This is fixed. This will now pick up the low moan. Go on! Try it!”

So I tuned in the old analog radio to the low end of the am dial, and listened

<the slowly rising noise returns but, this time, as it reaches full volume, you can hear the distant but distinct noise of ‘meiows’>

“Oh my word. My cat. I am sure it is my cat. My cat is down there with the tentacles. He always did like fish.”

“Told you.”

“I have to go and get him. I have to go to the Hole Of The Leviathan!”

“Excellent. But not before you buy me another drink. Its your round,” he said.

I said, “Are you sure?”

But yeah, I went to the bar, and he went to the jukebox and we had another glass of wine.

<music plays: Slaughterhouse, written by A P Clarke. Performed by A P Clarke and W Walker Allen>

What else are you doing? You smoked your cigarette.

Come on there’s nothing on the tv.

The Slaughterhouse is open, every Friday night,

There’s a party you can go with me.

And from the blood on the floor, the gristle on the saw

the piles of glasses, teeth and car keys,

And the scratches on the door tell us those that came before

Went down, down, down to the Slaughterhouse.

Let’s get killed.

There’s tinsel on the handles, and flowers on the grates

The boys will follow girls wherever they go.

And the blades will make the rhythm, screams will make the tune

When the first cut comes that’s the start of the show.

There is petrol in the air, and the smell of burning hair

When the angel’s dress goes up she does a striptease.

And at night the only lights on anywhere in the town

are down, down, down at the Slaughterhouse.

Have ourselves a time.

Your bedroom smells like newspapers, your linen smells like smoke

and the cities are all empty but for people.

And you can hear the road from anywhere, the tiny clacking sound

machinery to keep a corpse alive.

See how much you’ve grown, have you ever seen your bones?

Don’t worry every part of you is used.

And when all that’s left is shoes, someone else will sing the blues

Down, down down at the Slaughterhouse

And have ourselves a time.

So the next day I borrowed marigold gloves from the kitchen, and travelled to The Hole Of The Leviathan. The tentacles swayed to their own gentle breeze above the houses.

I walked through the circle of dogs, careful not to interrupt their dazed ritual.

A fortunate side-effect of the immense size of the leviathan was that the gargantuan scales acted very much like a ladder. careful not to have my fingers squashed by the tectonic movements of the scales, I placed my hands in the joins and started my descent.

The flesh between the scales was soft and goo oozed around me. It was why I had worn marigolds. It was a tentacle after all, and one should expect this. To my human nose it smelt, of all things, like stale lavender.

Down in the hole, the light disappeared, the moan turned to a loud hum. All the sounds of the street went silent, the darkness within me sang in the hollow of my chest and I felt suddenly and entirely alone.

Then a voice sounded out loud in the centre of my head.

YOUR WORLD IS A HOLLOW SHELL WE WILL CRACK LIKE AN EGG. YOU ARE DUST IN WIND.

I don’t know why, but at this moment I said this: “You are speaking English.” It just occurred to me.

DO YOU SPEAK ANY OTHER LANGUAGE?

And, well, that was fair enough. I said, “I am sorry.”

YOUR WORLD SHALL BE DESTROYED IN THE GLORIOUS PAIN OF OUR BIRTH

I felt the urge to continue: “How do you speak?”

THAT REALLY ISN’T IMPORTANT.

“See, I mostly picture a squid.”

YOUR WORLD IS RUIN. PALTRY.  CRAVEN.

That was also fair enough. I said: “I can’t say that I disagree.”

DO YOU NOT KNOW TO WHOM YOU SPEAK?

“Well not really, no.”

WHY ARE YOU HERE?

“I am looking for my cat.”

YOU CAME HERE TO LOOK FOR A CAT?

“I like him.”

ENOUGH! I WILL SHOW YOU THE CHAOS BENEATH YOUR THIN SANITY!

The tentacle coiled around me. It tried in my ear, it slipped around my nose. It wrapped around my body, and then it found my belly button and slid its dripping end in.

And I turned inside out.

It did not hurt. And when I opened what I thought were my eyes, I saw the world from a position of nowhere.

I said: “woah.”

It was quite a thing.

DO YOU SEE? DO YOU SEE NOW? DO YOU SEE THE FUTILITY OF YOUR EXISTENCE?

“I’m sorry, no.”

I mean it was quite a thing.  But what use was it to me? I am someone. I am somewhere. What is the use in knowing something from nowhere? No wonder the world seemed so empty to this poor creature.

I was suddenly filled with a desire to help it.

TIME IS THE MEANS THE UNIVERSE HAS TO UNDERSTAND ITSELF. TIME IS MEASURED BY CHANGE IN STATES. CHANGE IN STATES USES ENERGY. ENERGY, IN BEING USED, IS GONE. BY THE UNIVERSE KNOWING ITSELF DOES IT MANUFACTURE ITS OWN DESTRUCTION. LIFE IS LOSS.

I don’t know. It just sounded so negative. I said: “life is defined by trying.”

YOU WILL EXHAUST YOUR ENERGY.

What else is it for?

SO WHAT ARE YOU USING YOURS FOR?

I am trying to find my cat.

YOU ARE… YOU ARE SERIOUSLY TRYING TO FIND YOU CAT?

Yes.

I… I DO NOT UNDERSTAND.

And it was in this that I finally knew why the leviathan stayed in its hole, neither retreating nor advancing, and staying in its limbo, half way up the high street. It was, simply, confused. It could not understand why cats would climb up it, nor why humans would open cafes near it. It could not understand why I would climb down into the darkness of its hole just to find my pet. It had lost its certainty. It simply did not know what to do.

HELP ME. HELP ME, it said.

It said: I AM…CONFUSED.

“I know. The world is a strange place, especially for those who seek order from it.”

YOU DO NOT FEAR ME.

I want to help you.

I… DO NOT KNOW WHAT TO DO.

“We all have to figure that out, I guess.”

WHAT ARE *YOU* TRYING TO DO?

“I am trying to find my cat.”

And there was silence for a long, long time. And then:

I… I WILL FIND YOUR CAT.

“… really?” I replied.

YES… YES… I WILL FIND YOUR CAT FOR YOU.

This felt like progress. I said “You can do this?”

YES. I CAN DO THIS.

This felt *good*.

And then it said: I CAN FIND YOUR CAT. I AM CERTAIN.

And I sighed. I must admit, I felt sad at this point, for I knew I truly could not help the Leviathan. Trapped forever in its confusion, and believing certainty was its map for escape.

“Its OK,” I said. “You do not need to.”

I MUST AND I WILL.

And then a great rumbling began beneath me, as if impossible masses were moving against each other.

IT IS BEGUN the Leviathan intoned, with something like smugness in its voice.

I did not have the heart to tell it people were using his emanations as a sex aid.

BEGONE. I MUST PREPARE MY ULTIMATE VICTORY, AND YOUR INEVITABLE DOOM.

“OK,” I said.

And he pushed me back into myself and I was here once again, holding on to a tentacle with the goldening sky only a few yards above me.

“Truly,” I said, down into the hole. “I wish you well.”

But the Leviathan, busy about its business, I guess, did not reply. But of my cat, there was no sign. I checked myself, and I seemed fine. I even still had my marigolds on.

So I rose from The Hole Of The Leviathan as the sun was just starting to set, and a band was just starting to play. It was a nice evening, all things considered, and I called up my friend to share a beer or two. They asked what happened.

I said “I went down the hole.”

He said “you’re an idiot.”

He sounded certain.

I don’t know. Maybe he was right?

He looked at me then, and asked if I was OK. He held up a candle to my face and then he saw it.  All the colour was gone from my left eye. There was the white and the dark spot at the centre, but nothing in-between.

As we were leaving, we noticed: all the dogs were now walking the opposite way around the hole.

I got home just before dark, and returned to my quiet, clean, empty room and felt sad that I could not help the Leviathan in its confusion. It would have to figure it out in its own time. But while it was doing that, I needed to sleep, so I tuned the radio down to its low moan, turned off the lights and went to bed.

<the low, rising moan returns but, this time, just as it reaches its full volume, one can clearly hear a familiar booming voice say “HELP ME. HELP ME”>

THIS HAS BEEN AN EPISODE OF THE LOST CAT PODCAST, WRITTEN AND PERFORMED BY A P CLARKE. COPYRIGHT 2014.

THANK YOU FOR LISTENING.

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