#because i have reached my lifetime limit of that shit and will not tolerate it from anyone ever again

[novadreii]

Me writing a scathing, data-supported email to the president of the company I work for demanding that everyone in my office gets double the raise they were offered to keep up with the absurd CPI increases the last 2 years PLUS asking for a bonus:

[yaz-the-spaz]

dRuNk/Like I Would/Let Me/Dusk Till Dawn

[Because apparently i’m on a song-inspired fic kick lately lol but this was also mainly just an excuse to get out my headcanon for the story behind like i would and i figured why not throw in a bit of back story and a conclusion by exploring a couple of the other songs too]

[Read it on ao3 here]

Summary: “Happy birthday, I guess,” Zayn says, trying and failing to keep the bitterness out of his voice at the fact that this is his third call and Liam still hasn’t answered. At the fact that he’s with her. At a party that Zayn wasn’t invited to...

Or: A series of drabbles based on the themes of the aforementioned songs…basically my headcanons for the moments that inspired these songs (these aren’t songfics though)

Disclaimer: Before anyone gets mad at me for this i wanna make clear that this is not at all meant to make Liam off to be the bad guy even though it might come off that way at first, this is just an expression of my headcanon of how Zayn might have seen/felt about things at the time based on my interpretation of the songs and seeing as this is told from a very one-sided pov things are gonna come off skewed just like they would in real life

*Also the interlude part is not meant to be a reference to the actual song called interlude from m.o.m. it’s just a general interlude in the story, like a break to set up for the shift in the narrative while still keeping in line with the song theme by using song/music terminology

dRuNk

Zayn feels like Liam’s invaded his senses. Like all he eats, sleeps, and breathes anymore is Liam. Liam Liam Liam. He’d never known it was possible to feel so intoxicated by someone before but that’s how it feels whenever he’s in Liam’s orbit. Like he’s shifted into another plane of existence where the only thing in focus is Liam, the only thing he can smell, see, hear, taste, touch, is Liam, everything else blurring to the background like white noise.

Late summer nights stumbling into hotel rooms together, eyes red and words slurring together, hands and lips mapping out each other’s skin till they’re breathless with want and all the things they’re too afraid to say in the light of day.

Zayn feels like the summer passes in a haze and every second spent apart from Liam feels like going through withdrawal. He wants Liam to know how much he needs him, how much Zayn feels like he can’t breathe without him, but he doesn’t wanna scare Liam away. Liam has this heady kind of effect on him though, makes him want to pour out everything inside him and never stop.

But Zayn always wakes up to an empty bed because Liam never stays till the morning. Half acts like this whatever between them is just a transient thing and Zayn’s not sure how much of it is Liam convincing himself that’s how Zayn sees it or just Liam being unwilling to admit to himself that this might actually be something. Not that it really matters. Because they don’t talk about it in the light of day, the hazy memories half lost to drunken amnesia and the ones purposefully forgotten, purposefully buried to keep things from becoming too real. But when night hits and the drinks start flowing again they’re both too gone to stop. Gone on this life, gone on each other, gone on what might just be love.

 Like I Would

“Happy birthday, I guess,” Zayn says, trying and failing to keep the bitterness out of his voice at the fact that this is his third call and Liam still hasn’t answered. At the fact that he’s with her. At a party that Zayn wasn’t invited to because she’s a vindictive—Zayn stops the thought before he can finish it. He won’t call her what he’s really thinking, even if she is. He hates using that word for any woman but if there was ever a case for someone who deserved it, it would be her. The way she drags Liam around like he’s some sort of fucking prize to be won, makes him feel like shit about himself on a near-constant basis, and then flashes that sweet smile for the cameras, lapping up the attention and milking it for all she can get while Liam walks around like a ghost, forcing his way through all the photo ops of fake dates and couple’s outings. She’d hooked her claws into him from the start like a lion going for its prey and Liam—sweet, trusting Liam—had bashfully welcomed the attention like a sunflower desperately seeking the light, unaware of the insidious ulterior motives lurking behind her carefully crafted facade until she finally showed herself for what she really was.

Now that Liam knows the truth he mostly just tolerates her, but what really pisses Zayn off is that he fact he’s still choosing her. He think he needs her. In some fucked up incarnation of the storybook ending he’s likely made up for himself in his head—a wife and a white picket fence and all that other bullshit. Doesn’t want to handle what confronting the truth about whatever this is between him and Zayn might mean for him. For himself, for their careers, for their images. Zayn worries about that too. Of course he does. But he doesn’t think it’s fair to just throw away what they could be, what they could have, for the sake of all of that. Because what is love if it’s not worth a risk, even one as big as this one, for a chance at a lifetime of happiness? Liam’s clearly chosen to go the route of pretending like none of that matters though. Like none of anything that’s happened between them the last few months—hell, the last two years—matters.

So yeah Zayn’s bitter.

But if Liam wants to be selfish enough to pull a dick move like this, that’s fine. Because two can play at that game.

“Hope you’re having a good time,” he says, not even trying to hide the sarcasm in his voice this time round, even knowing how it’ll come off. Because they haven’t talked in a while—or what constitutes a while for them anyway, codependent as they’ve all become—mostly because of who Zayn knows he’s with right now. So him leaving an acid-laced voicemail like this while he’s out for a smoke is a pretty shitty thing to do, especially when the last time they talked was on such good terms.

But he also knows that he doesn’t really need to explain himself because Liam will know exactly why he’s so angry, no matter how much Liam might try to keep up the game of pretending like he doesn’t. That’s one of the things he loves about Liam, that he knows Zayn so well, knows exactly how to gauge his moods and how to respond or how not to respond, when to give him space and when to crowd him in because he’s not usually one to be very vocal about his emotions though Liam sometimes brings it out of him. But at moments like these it’s both a blessing and curse because as much as Liam brings out the good in him he’s also one of the only ones who can get Zayn riled up enough to go and do something stupid and shitty like this. No going back now though, he’s already in too deep. He might as well finish what he started and lay his bed.

“Don’t bother calling back when you get this cause I probably won’t answer. Be too busy getting smashed with Lou. Just thought I’d give the birthday boy my regards. Give Danielle a one-fingered salute for me, and enjoy your shitty birthday sex. Just remember she’ll never fuck you like I would.”

He drops the butt of his cigarette to the ground, crushes it under his boot in the same moment he pockets his phone. He knows he’ll regret it later. It was a cruel thing to say regardless and that’s on top of the fact that he and Liam haven’t even gone that far yet. But he’d come out here in a really good mood, buzzing and high on life and just wanting a moment to share it with Liam and wish him a happy birthday, only to have all his calls ignored while Liam spends the night with her. So sue him for feeling a bit vindictive and wanting to bring Liam down with him like Liam did him. He’s only human, and a pretty shitty one at that, he knows that. He’s still a thousand times better than her. But Liam’s clearly made his choice. And now Zayn’s made his.

 Interlude

Things come to a bit of a head in Vegas and the irony of the city’s tagline isn’t lost on Zayn. He’s half convinced at this point that the universe is just fucking with him for shits and giggles. And Liam’s not much better to be honest. Keeps turning those sad eyes on him like a lovesick puppy as if Zayn doesn’t have every right to be angry. He’s sick of the games. Sick of the back and forth. Sick of Liam fucking around with his heart because Liam can’t figure out—or better yet can’t admit—what he really wants.

She’ll do something shitty yet again and every time Liam comes running to him for comfort, only to go right back to her. Acts all apologetic and plays dumb like he doesn’t know what he’s doing is fucked up. But he can’t have it both ways and Zayn’s done. Or at least that’s what he tells himself. Until the moment Liam comes back to him again and then he’s right back where he started.

This time though. This time he’s truly reached his limit. And he damn well makes sure Liam knows it. Won’t speak to him, won’t look at him, won’t even acknowledge his presence, even when Liam sings right to him, and Zayn doesn’t care who notices. He’s too angry to think about anything or anyone else right now and it only goes up tenfold when, after, Liam comes to find him and has the nerve to act like he doesn’t know what he did. What he’s been doing this whole fucking time and Zayn can’t. He explodes. All the pent up rage and hurt pouring out of him at once.

Liam at least has the decency to look ashamed once everything’s out in the open. Makes all these apologies and promises and Zayn honestly doesn’t know whether to believe him after everything. But just like always when it comes to Liam, Zayn’s resolve inevitably crumbles. He’s still feeling too much that he doesn’t eve know how to process right now but Liam is so close and Zayn can’t help himself. Never could with Liam.

He’s honestly not even sure who’s actually the first to make the move. If you were to ask him later he couldn’t tell you, but it doesn’t much matter. What matters is Liam’s lips against his and the way he feels pressed skin to skin to him and the fact that he stays. For once he stays. And Zayn thinks maybe this is his way of solidifying all the promises he made. Bringing what for so long felt like a dirty little secret, something to keep hidden in hushed tones in the dark of night, into the light. Dares to hope that this thing between them might really truly finally have the chance to become something real. 

Let Me

Liam’s stayed till the morning every night together since and Zayn’s hopeful. Wants the chance to show Liam all that they can be, all that he can be for Liam if Liam will let him. Wants to show him that every second they spend together means something, that the moments they share—the conversations, the laughter, the sex, even the quiet moments spent laying together doing nothing at all—mean something. Wants to show him what real love can look like, feel like, what it means to have someone who truly cares about him. To have someone who doesn’t want him just to use him, who appreciates Liam for all that he is and would do whatever it takes to show Liam just how amazing he is until he believes it too. And Zayn thinks to himself that maybe he’ll have it, that chance.

This thing between them is still so new. Officially anyway. Vegas and iTunes and Germany still feels like only yesterday even as the weeks and months pass. But days off spent wrapped up together in the duvet and in each other, dessert for breakfast and the sun of countless nameless cities filtering in through the windows feel like the best dream he could have ever hoped to wake up to. Movie dates and balcony views and walks on the beach mixed in with stage antics and video game wars and late night dance-offs because no more are the nights relegated to secrecy and willful amnesia. Now the two of them gravitate easily to each other like planets in orbit. And Liam is still just as intoxicating as ever, but not in a way that leaves Zayn feeling heavy and hungover and regretful in the morning. More like the most pleasant and ever-constant buzz, like a fine wine instead of a too-strong cheap liquor, a feeling that Zayn thinks he’d be happy to live with for a long, long time.

And things aren’t always perfect. Zayn had still had his doubts at first, in the back of his mind—that maybe this wouldn’t last, that maybe he would do something to mess it up,  that he might show too much of himself and scare Liam away. But as the weeks turn into months and the months turn into years and the years go by those doubts fade away. Because Zayn may not know everything. But he knows now that what they have isn’t fleeting or trivial, isn’t something that can be so easily broken, no matter what anyone else might think. What they have is forever. And they’ll have the rest of their lives together to prove it.

Dusk Till Dawn

Sometimes the days get hard. Sometimes the nights are even harder. When the bed feels too big and too cold and too empty and he can’t sleep. When he’s been on his own for too long without Liam to calm him down and he snaps. Or when the stunts pile up on both ends, vile story after story that he doesn’t mean to see, hadn’t even been looking for, but does and he can’t help but get into one of his moods. Or when it feels like everything’s caving in on him at once and all the pressure gets to be too much to handle.

People see him on an off day and think he’s being aloof or rude, or misunderstand a joke that back home would’ve been no big deal and they make assumptions. They read what they read and hear what they hear and they see the way he looks and think he must see himself the same way they see him. That he must think of himself in some elevated way, like he’s above everyone else or like he’s trying too hard to be seen as different or edgy when really he’s just him. He’s just him. And all he wants is the freedom to be him in all that that entails. And the same for Liam.

Because they may be able to be more open now than they’ve ever been allowed to be before but they’re still nowhere near where want to be, where they’d hoped to be by now. It’s still like a breath of fresh air, being free of most of the madness of all the behind the scenes bullshit they’d had to put up with for so long. Being able to do more and more without having to constantly look over their shoulders or second guess themselves or worry whether they’ll be berated for just being themselves. And he knows Liam feels it too. That little pocket of relief every time they’re able to make a secret getaway or do or say something a little obvious that before would’ve been outright shut down on the spot.

But that doesn’t make the days apart any less hard. Or make it any easier to deal with the longing to touch Liam,  to feel him skin to skin or wake up to his crinkly smiling face in the morning or feel the warmth of the sun washing over them as they they make love, deep and slow and passionate. To be able to hold him when he’s upset or have Liam do the same for him.

He knows though that even in those moments when they’re an ocean apart that Liam is always with him. In the little things, like the rings and the necklaces and the bracelets and the clothes that they wear like badges of honor. But also etched into his skin in ink, as permanent as the space he fills in Zayn’s heart. Just like Zayn is for him.

[devilinclouds]

SOULMATES - INTRO

(MDZS REINCARNATION-MODERN ROLEPLAY AU)

Reincarnated Wei WuXian and Lan WangJi met again in an alternate universe as Yian and Kino, whereas the Yilling patriarch turned into a professional exorcist and the light bearer as a plain chicken. The two are bound to meet in their present lifetime. They will reunite and unlock the secrets of their past but will face the revenge of the evil spirits they've encountered from the past.

Genre: Comedy, Horror, Supernatural

Characters: Kino (present Lan WangJi), Yian (present Wei WuXian)

INTRO

Wearing a white blouse opened till half, mesh shirt underneath, along with a loose-fit trouser, Kino gave final touches by fixing his beanie, all satisfied with his clothing, he gave himself a narcissist smirk and wink in front of the mirror before leaving his place. It was finally weekend, definitely the day to mingle and to hang-out for young adults like him. And if you’re someone who’s all up for pure fun without getting in trouble, you might rather want to hook-up instead.

Flashing disco lights, loud blasting music, and the steamy atmosphere of cigarette smoke, fried food, and beer hit him in the face as soon as he stepped a foot inside the club. The music was loud enough that he could feel the beat in the pit of his stomach, urging his whole body to move along the beat, letting the crowd swallow him. Sticking his tongue out, he started waving his body against the strangers on the dance floor. 

-

Yian, on the other side, couldn’t remember the last time he properly hung out with people. A stack of mysterious cases has been piling up lately and he had no idea where to even start hunting at this point. Luckily he had his best friend, Cheng, who was like a brother to him to drag him out and to spend some time around people before he could lose his mind. 

Yian didn’t consider himself a party animal but once he arrived at a party, he didn’t know when to stop. He was enjoying a good time with his best friend and some strangers in a private lounge at a club, chugging down drinks and snacking to fill his empty stomach. He let the loud music to block his roaring thoughts and he enjoyed as the alcohol was poured recklessly. He felt his head and heart lighter with every shot. He loved it. He loved it when the alcohol hit him and made him forget about his own existence for a moment. It tasted like freedom. 

“Who’s up for the next round, my treat!” He abruptly stood up on a couch he was sitting on, climbing up on the table to get all attention. He raised his empty glass, looking at bottles of whiskey all empty, and he brought the glass to his lips, finding some drop in the emptiness. Everyone else agreed it’s time to get more alcohol and he was more than willing to get them. He could see his best friend rolling his eyes and Yian dodged as Cheng tried to pull him back down, worrying Yian might fall down.

“I’m good, mom!” He climbed back down on the ground by himself, his legs unstable, and headed to a bar to order more drinks. 

-

After sweating a bit on the dance floor, Kino found himself leaning against the bar counter to drink a bottle of beer while lazily munching on some tacos. His alcohol tolerance is not the best but he could at least drink a few bottles of beer before hitting his limit. 

“So what do you do for fun?”

He realized that he’s actually drinking with someone whom he met in the crowd. Not anyone special, just a stranger. He’s not the best talker to carry a conversation when he’s not really interested so he’s surprised that she can somehow keep up with his silence. With a shrug, he simply responded, “Dancing… Well, I easily get bored so I do anything for fun.”

He noticed the forming sly smirk on her lips as she slipped a contact card next to his beer, “We could hangout more to have fun. Just give me a call.”

“I’m not interested, sorry,” he refused without hesitations and the woman just left him quite in disbelief. It’s not that he’s reserved to refuse any human interaction. He wouldn’t be in the club to hang-out if he wouldn’t want to take chances. He ordered one more bottle of beer before heading back to the dance floor.

-

As Yian was heading to the bar counter to order more drinks, he felt that his steps were so heavy but his thirst for more alcohol was like fuel to him, bringing him through a crowd of people. He clumsily walked forward, gently shoving any human obstacle off his way. But he was taken by surprise as he accidentally bumped into a random guy, almost spilling the latter’s beer. He dodged as if he was struck by lightning and almost fell down, a weird buzzing rushing through him like a wave, taking him aback. He straightened his back, grasping his chest because his heart suddenly ached as if it was being stabbed right now. 

Am I having a random panic attack? Why does it feel like I’m gonna vomit…

He glanced at the guy, his vision too dizzy to grasp details of the stranger’s face. What the fuck was all of this, did he feel it too? It was so strong it could knock down a cow but he seems fine? He made his heavy legs move, needing to get away to grasp onto something steady. No more alcohol tonight. 

“Sorry, man!” Yian uttered eventually, stumbling a little as he decided to walk on. He couldn’t help but to turn around a few times to look at the guy, as if it could help to explain what happened a few seconds ago, bumping into a few more bodies. He sighed out in relief when he finally reached the bar and he rubbed his temples, weary. His heart was slowing down but the pain lingered, making him rub his chest that felt heavy and stuffy, making it difficult to breathe. 

“What the hell…” He murmured to himself and his drunk eyes searched in the crowd of people but he couldn’t see the guy anymore. So weird. 

-

The static electricity was so strong that it brought shock to all of Kino’s senses. He swears that it’s somewhat felt like being electrocuted. His pulses were beating too fast. Strangely, he heard deafening screeches which caused him to feel dizzy as his vision started to get a little bit blurry for a while. He stood up still in the middle of the crowd, closing his eyes and shaking his head while trying to move his arm.

Once Kino felt like he had recovered from the shock, he was again bumped by a woman with silky long hair, causing the red ribbon that she’s wearing to fall on the floor. He picked the red ribbon on the floor and for some reason, he could still feel the sparks lingering on his body again. He looked around, tiptoed even, realizing that he lost sight of the woman in the crowd. Not that any longer, he found her heading towards the women’s comfort room. For a plain red ribbon from a stranger, it’s surely not his business, but it’s as if every part of his body wanted to return the ribbon back to her.

-

Yian regained some energy to order drinks for their private lounge but that was all he could do at the moment. He leaned against the bar, too exhausted to move as it felt like his heavy eyelids will drop by themselves. At least his body was recovering from the previous shock. He looked at his hands that couldn’t stop shaking and he sighed softly. What was happening….

The waitress told Yian that she will deliver their drinks into the lounge and he felt relieved he won’t need to go all the way back with the precious alcohol in his unsteady hands. He had another mission awaiting him and that was emptying his bladder which was about to burst. He followed a path to the restrooms when he noticed, no, felt, something odd. He rubbed his eyes. He could swear he saw a woman dressed up in a black gothic dress that just went into the women’s comfort room. Too much odd shit was happening in one night and he wasn’t having it anymore. He decided to ignore his gut feeling this time and disappeared into the male’s restrooms. 

-

Kino stepped a foot inside the women’s comfort room but then he eventually halted, rubbing his temples. No, no, I’m not drunk. I’m not a pervert either. You’re just here to return the ribbon. Yeah, that’s all. He thought, trying to convince himself as he casually entered the comfort room. with a self-claimed pure conscience.

He cleared his throat as he walked towards the first cubicle which to his surprise was opened wide. The woman was facing the wall, giving him the impression that she might want to throw up. “Uh, hi? You dropped your ribbon while dancing outside. I’m just here to return it to yo-” He gulped, slowly dropping his jaw when he saw the woman pulling up her short dress, revealing her legs. He suddenly felt the heat taking over his body, blaming the amount of bottled beer he took for tonight. The woman continued to pull up her dress as if she’s teasing him, almost revealing her buttocks by bending forward.

“W-Well, uh, I’ll just leave your ribbon here-” he clears his throat, feeling his cheeks burning from seeing such erotic sight. He dragged his feet outside the restroom. However, the lights suddenly went on and off, then he felt a cold breeze lingering against his neck, which was followed by a soft whisper. He turned around and to his utmost surprise, the woman pulled him for a torrid kiss that tasted nothing but blood.

“Aahhh-” Kino pushed the woman who turned out eyeless and with a bloody mouth. He yelled at the top of his lungs, throwing himself out of the cubicle and roughly landing his buttocks on the floor. “What the f-fuck- Monster. He-Help!” He tried his best to quickly move backward, his back hitting the wall. He screamed for help but it felt like he couldn’t scream any louder. 

The black spirit suddenly rose from the ground, taking all the energy from the place which caused the light to switch on and off. 

-

Yian was about to head back when he heard very loud screaming from the other restroom. He wasn’t in a stable state to help anyone but he couldn’t just leave it unnoticed. He peeked out and realized the screaming, that sounded more like a manly scream. He hesitated but he entered anyway. To his own surprise, he spotted the female demon he could swear he has seen before. 

“Here you are”, he exclaimed, grabbing her attention. 

It struck him. The black widow! He was hunting her for months. His theory, according to all evidence he compiled so far, was that she preyed on freshly married men or on engaged males when they held parties where they were giving their farewell to freedom of bachelors. He didn’t have time to confirm his theory with the guy because she lunged forward at him, surprising him and threw him on the ground. 

Yian struggled under her, his mind still clouded with alcohol, and the female demon opened her mouth wide as if she was about to eat him. A dark liquid dripped from her mouth, dropping on his face, making him scrunch his nose. 

“Ack,” he groaned and he began to mumble something in Latin. Fuck, what were the words. He was too drunk, recollecting his memory to remember every word of the exorcising spell to make her disappear. He pushed her off him, getting up and taking steps back, strange Latin words spilling from his mouth and as he became more confident with his words, the demon began to tremble and wail, knowing she’ll be gone within seconds.

“Get the fuck out of here,” he groaned and finished the last important sentences of the spell, the demon leaving nothing behind but black smoke and a fragrance of something sweet yet spicy and alluring to human senses. 

-

What the fuck was that? Did he just witness an exorcism inside a club? Kino blinked in disbelief, his face turned extremely pale, filled with cold sweat as his heart was still pounding through his chest. 

This was the least thing he swore he would want to witness. Not here. Not tonight. Not even in his lifetime did he want to see real spirits. Call him a coward all you want despite being a brave individual who is always up to try any extreme and death defying activities but any paranormal activities is definitely a whole different story. Ever since he’s young, he always had a weak heart for spirits and ghosts. 

He stumbled while trying to get up on his knees, feeling his arms and legs shaking. He locked gazes with the man who just performed exorcism and gave him an uncanny look. Eh? Exorcist goes clubbing too? He shrugged off his thought and immediately ran away when black smoke started to appear again. This time he felt a strange energy creeping up his nape, making every root and part of his body to shiver in fear.

Seeing that a thin smoke was still following him while hearing voices whispering against his ear, he ran into the alleyway shouting like a mad man. He bumped into a lot of people in the crowd but he cared less and just continued to run for his life. If anyone was wondering if we were capable of moving faster than a speeding bullet, the answer is yes, sort of. Kino would definitely pass the criteria as he swept the street clean with his speed.

-

Yian, who was still left inside the restroom, released a long breath of relief as he leaned his back against the wall for support. This was too much, his mind felt way dizzy to cope with all of this demon thing happening. However, all this sudden shock helped him to sober up a little. He walked over to the sink to wash off the sweat of his face and as he looked up at himself in the mirror, he thought about the guy, who ran away like a chicken. He can't let him leave just like that, he must have been scared to death. He fished out the phone out of his pocket to let Cheng know he won't be coming back, that an urgent business came up and he rushed outside from the club. 

The soft breeze hit his face and he snuggled into his leather jacket. He would probably never find the guy again if he didn’t hear him screaming, he followed the sound and ran a little clumsily as his legs still felt uneasy and heavy from the alcohol intoxication. He stopped in his tracks only to look up at the sky above. 

“What the…” He noticed a dark ominous energy floating around. And what was worse, it was following the stranger! “Shit.” He uttered. He has seen so many things during his life but he has never seen so much demonic power coming together. 

Who was that lad and why he was a magnet to all of that? His survival instinct was telling him to get away because he knew it was not in his power to help but something was dragging his feet forward. He felt like one of those demons was being attracted by the latter. He sprinted a little to reach him and he stopped right behind him.

Meanwhile, Kino repeatedly tried slapping himself with force, just in case he’s only having a nightmare. But unfortunately, everything is real. Ghosts, spirits, ghouls, demons, and all those that can’t be seen by the naked eye. 

“Have I gone mad?” He stepped back, not blinking an eye as he cautiously watched how the spirits were just floating around, and with few steps backwards, he felt a cold breeze against his skin. With wide eyes while holding his breath, he turned around and saw a tall shadow behind him, it was an abrupt moment and all his reflexes made him throw a solid punch against the tall shadow.

[gwydionmisha]

Personal: Peaceable Kingdom

I am improving, but still needing a lot of rest and medication.  It helps that there is a cooler breeze off the bay so i could tolerate a slightly longer bath, though not long enough.  My plan was to get lots of sleep.  Ha!  No!  I got up to go to the bathroom and found an extra girl in my bed.  I stroked her back so she'd know that she was in fact welcome.  When I returned, she'd co-opted my head pillow.  I don't blame her, that thing is ridiculously comfortable. She had kindly left enough room for my head, so i settled in next to her and gave her a long pet.

At which point the Emperor turned up wanting HIS Pet, as i had all the filter on, but not the fan. He climbed onto my hip and spotted That Other Cat brazenly sleeping in the Imperial Bed, Imperial territory and the most important territory in the apartment, especially when I'm on it. He perched on my hip glaring at her, but we think the stroke damaged the part of her brain that does things like fear, so she just stared back at him.  He sensibly intuited that I was kicking everyone out if they started a fight on top of me, so he was grumpily accepting a pet when Livia turned up with the clear intention of claiming her pettin.  Hear head swiveled between them in alarm.  I offered her a scritch, but she decided the atmosphere was way too heavy for her to want to drape herself across my torso between them, so she settled down on the other side of her favorite body pillow.  

Then the phone rang.  Tavy lept off, because he knows that sound means I'm about to move to grab it. Elder Kitty: ha!  I win!  It was the police charity scammers.  I had to block a scammer a few days ago, which means ublocking a number.  It looks like I'm bout to get the police/fire charity scammers out of Seattle cascade for the next week or two as I block/unblock numbers.  They are relentless and call up to three times a day if they aren't blocked.  Sigh.

I settle back down, lure Tavy back on, and he decides, Fuck it, he wants the full curl up on my tummy for a long cuddle pet even if That  Other Cat is pressed up against my head.  I'd just  started petting him, when the phone rang.  Moherfucker!  Everyone left.  It was an autodialer. And i can't block the ring and run autodialers, because sometimes it's Medicare or Medicare advantage.  I drink some water and roll offer, headache blooming.

I start to drift off anyway; the phone rings.  Of curse it did.  Medicare advantage calling to inform me I hadn't used  any of my behavioral heath coverage.  Which of course I can't even if I needed it because trauma.  I'm really the fuck good at dealing which my own shit and have spent a lifetime quietly dismantling triggers and healing myself, and am honestly one of the most stable people I know.  I'm highly adaptive and good at things like coping with lockdown etc..  I am extremely disciplined about working  through trauma.  I have to be: see long history of incredibly abusive child psychology.

What I actually say is: "I'm fine.  Yes, I know the benefit exists, but I don't need it."  Which is true.  Would I rather we didn't have a monster in charge of our government who is deliberately trying to infect and kill as many people as possible?  Yes, but I am dealing with my responses to that as I need to.  At which point she tries to hard sell me, and I get it.  There is a global mental health crisis and this plan is for disabled and/or elderly people in extreme poverty, a group that is particularly vulnerable and isolated right now.  I know she meant well and bullying boomers into behavioral health could save lives.  Except I'm an Xer and not isolated and I have a particular set of psychological tools that work pretty damned well in this emergency.  Me:  "I'm fine and I'd rather save those slots for people who need help.  There's a global mental health crisis on a limited resources."  She reiterated that the benefit is there if I need it.

I am now far to awake to sleep.  This is just way to much disruption.  I reach for my book.  The phone rings.  %#$&!  It's the lung people wanting to arrange a shipment of ampules.  Which is a long conversation in itself.  This is why I can't turn off the phone when I sleep.  Medicare, Medicare advantage, doctors, dentists, the lung people, and my regular pharmacy like to call when I'm sleeping and it's way better to just answer the thing and deal with whatever it is they want than play daytime phone tag with them.

So sleep was done, despite me rather needing another 2-3 hours of it.  Oh well.  I finished the nice queer fantasy/sf anthology I'd been reading (Tangle) and petted cats all day.  Elder kitty returned to what is now her pillow.  The Imperial couple periodically cadged pets.  At one point Elder Kitty was wrapped around my head the way hector used to like, Tavy was crashed out on my hip, and Baby Girl was stretched on her favorite body pillow next to me while they all had a good nap.  Livia's idea of a really good day involves loves from her personal human, hanging out peaceably with the clowder, and bird and/or fish TV.  This may be Livia's best day ever.

At one point I heard squirrel moving around, and I had a suspicion he was worried about his cat.  Given her age and state of health....  Yeah.  And she usuall spends some of her day sleeping with him in his bed.  He saw my light and called my name.  I didn't wait for the question.  "I have her in hear.  She's fine."  I was under the sheet and he peeked in and checked, relief in his voice.  I explained she'd been there all day.  We talked a bit about her and he went off relieved.

When I came out, Tavy had pissed on the sofa and the floor in front of it, the puddle soaking two other layers.  I don't blame him, really.  He had to take out his feelings somehow and starting a fight in bed just wasn't on.

[nl37tgt]

Monkey Business (9-10-19)

People are strange.  Queue "The Doors - People Are Strange" if you wish, I encourage it, my opening statement still rings true though, people do weird stuff.

Honesty has always been the best policy.  Truth is easy, you don't have to remember what lie went where.  It's a simple life.  Yet everyone from politicians to your 8-year-old has a hard time with being honest.  Granted, humans are fallible.  Shit happens.  But to persist in a lie when caught is for fools.  The problem is that there seems to be an abundance of fools.  George Carlin warned us against underestimating idiots in large groups.  If they manage to organize, it can get quite scary.  Look at a Klan rally, there's a prime example of a large group of organized morons.

Another thing of note is a propensity for memory to serve when it's convenient to whatever the narrative needs.  The consistency of a public figure or news article of note can be checked in minutes, along with checking for accuracy.  We live in a world where information is within easy reach at all times, so the excuse that one doesn't know is a poor one.  What is quickly forgotten is that that information can be inaccurate or wholly fabricated to suit a narrative.  Confirmation bias and that pesky Dunning-Kruger effect can turn your average person into a tinfoil hat dipshit with dubious at best ideology in a matter of months.  Pulling information from the asshole of the internet to bolster your arguments leads down that particular rabbit hole.  The internet is an uncurated wild west.  Any and all have a page full of anything you can think of and well beyond.  If your bullshit detector is defective, and your level of gullibility is high, avoid the internet, please.  You're making the rest of the world that much more idiotic and the internet itself doesn't forget.

News flash fuckwit.  The earth isn't flat, vaccines don't cause autism, Elvis is dead, and your horoscope doesn't mean a damn thing.

Let's move on to another curiosity.  Look at a map.  All those borders and boundaries are imaginary.  You could cross one and not even know it if it wasn't for the sign.  You don't see borders from space.  Most of them have Olympic swimming pools of blood splashed all over them from repeated war.  Despite the depths of explanations historians and politicians dive into, the main driver of war is greed and/or some form intolerance.

Global trade is centuries old, global communication is now nearly instant, global travel has been possible for more than a century, but we still hang onto primitive borders and fight over them.  If not borders, it's ideology or something material.  Yet certain groups fear advancement towards global governance.

Some of that fear is warranted perhaps, considering the ease at which corruption and abuse of power creep into even a small country that is less opposed to dragging an asshole out of their office and beating them to death.  But we are one species underneath all the self-imposed herding into particular groups.  This tribal mentality, the gravitation towards opposing groups ranging from sports teams to whole ideologies, might just be the end of us at some point because some of you goofs get violent.  It's a primordial relic we haven't evolved past yet and I don't know if that turning point will happen in my lifetime.

Delving further into the racism and intolerance thing... what the fuck?  Any student of history, even half asleep, can probably figure out that one group of folks may have a superiority complex over another group of folks.  The results from those are plain as day in the annals of history.  As of this writing, there are over 1000 hate groups identified by the Southern Poverty Law Center in the United States.  One thousand groups of people with their head squarely and firmly inserted into their ass.

Societal tolerance needs hard limits.  Racism should be intolerable and challenged at all fronts.  The same goes for sexism and other ugly marks on the world.  To go absolute with tolerance is just foolish, that would lead to an "anything goes" scenario and chaos.  

Changing lanes here.  If you voted for someone and they gained office, do me a favor and hold them accountable for the bullshit they spew.  They don't need the hickeys from you sucking their ass and you're embarrassing yourself.  Your devotion will only be rewarded by a stray fart to the face or your head in a toilet.  You're welcome for that mental image.

Last-minute exit ramp dive before closing this mess.  Don't put up with abuse. Life is way too short to stick to something that makes you miserable and gives someone undue power over you.  Could be a spouse, partner, boss, "friend," or even a family member.  If they aren't doing you any good by being in your circle, find a way to cut them out of your life.  There isn't a valid reason for hanging around.  There are no medals or award ceremonies for time served in any sort of abusive relationship.  Cut the shit.

[sagebodisattva]

You’re Not Worth Your Weight in Waste

(Clip of biodegradable plastic bag.)

It’s about fucking time. It’s only 50 years late. Not too bad, huh? Look, this is not that complicated. There’s just simply too many of you for there not to be any mindfulness about the waste that’s incessantly being produced. Have you ever wondered about the inevitable sum of such waste? Shit, what about just the waste from China alone. Can you even fathom that daily sum of waste? You know,... it adds up. Think about that. And think about, what would be the overall grand sum of waste from 10 billion strong? Well. The answer isn’t very good news; nor has it been very good news, for quite some time. And in the spirit of man’s predisposition to only address symptoms and always ignore causes, I know what you’re thinking:

“Is there any way to spin the failure in this story to make mankind look intelligent and rewardable?”

Unfortunately, not in any good sense.

But what about:

“Mankind has become adept and extremely proficient in producing massive amounts of pollution and waste!”

Wow, isn’t that admirable?

I’m not sure why, but mankind seems to assume for a given that it’s completely acceptable that he is a creature that is inherently authorized to consume, and then leave waste, with no limits or standards as to the conduct of these actions. Well, news flash. It isn’t acceptable. Don’t assume any inherent rights. And it’s time for you to be held accountable.

Yeah, it’s that time again. You know that, every once in a while, I have to roll up my sleeves and kick your ass. But don’t feel bad about it. It’s when I STOP kicking your ass when you should start to worry. That means I’ve stopped caring. And that can’t be good. So yeah. You know I go through different phases with the motivations of the videos. Sometimes they’re educational. Sometimes they focus on unlearning. And sometimes they are just simple acts of heavy handed corrective discipline, which IS required; as, the short sighted self concerned immaturity of the mediocre masses has reached shockingly epic proportions.

So listen up, millennial man. I’m sorry, but the stupidity of your predecessors has fucked you into a corner. So know upfront: You’ve been born with a load; and there’s no “love salvation mode”. “Born”, by both definitions of the word “born”, with two different spellings. You’ve been “born”, with a load, (b-o-r-n), as in, assuming a heavy burden since the moment of birth; and “borne”, with a load, (b-o-r-n-e), as in, forcibly shouldered with a heavy burden. And while you strain and sweat under that heavy load, you can take solace in the fact that the massive weight that is now threatening to crush you under it’s sheer mass, is a result from circumstances that pre-existed you. So it’s a storm cloud with a silver lining! You bear absolutely no BLAME, for the heavy mass that now sits upon your shoulders. You only bear the WEIGHT, of the heavy mass that now sits upon your shoulders! Isn’t that encouraging?

Yeah, people didn’t think too deeply into things in the days of ole. Inventors invented things, and, sometimes, they invented really evil fucked up things completely by accident.

But hey, if an abomination can serve a function, even if profoundly evil in composition, we can still enjoy the byproduct utility and just simply ignore any negative side effects! Right?

“Sounds like a plan!”

And this irresponsible dereliction wasn’t just contained to the production of degradable waste. That might have been much more easier to deal with, and we can’t have that. We need to make our own lives 100 times more difficult, otherwise we can’t learn basic binary lessons. Right? Hence, the reality of non-biodegradable waste production raised it’s ugly head. And remember:

“A little ain’t enough.”

So, your myopic predecessors just kept on making more and more and more non-biodegradable materials, then, when confronted with the prospect of taking responsibility for finding a function for the waste, they figured, fuck it, and just started dumping it all into the ground or the sea, like shortsighted imbeciles. And now it’s your problem. And the larger question is, not so much about how to clean up all the waste, but what to do about the idiots who can’t muster up the required capacity for efficiency.

And yeah, they came up with recycling; but 90% of the recycling material doesn’t get recycled, because you morons are too lazy to do it. And what DOES get recycled, doesn’t nearly go deep enough; as, there are so many plastics that don’t make the cut, and are therefor confined to a one use disposable pollutant. I say, if it isn’t biodegradable, and you can’t recycle it, you are banned from manufacturing it. Plastic utensils, plastic straws, plastic bags... production of all that shit needs to stop right now. Since you morons can’t figure out how to produce utensils, straws and bags that can be recycled, nor know how to clean and re-use such items, you’ll just have to transport along traditional wares and be inconvenienced with having to take care of the items; rather then stuff you can just throw away. Awwwww. Poor you.

Do you know they have been finding pounds and pounds of plastic bags inside the stomachs of dead whales? That’s truly despicable. And you should be completely shamed. Stripped naked by an angry mob; relentlessly whipping you with sharp sticks and spitting on you constantly.

And yes, I have the right to assume a righteous stance and condemn you for world pollution. I’m pissed about it, and you’re not. I demand that something needs to be done about it, while you, do not. That’s why I’m exempt from guilt and blame; and hence, casting guilt and blame upon YOU, now becomes my only focus. And it also affords me the position to know what’s BEST, and to make the important decision about what ultimately needs to be prescribed.

The production of all disposable non-biodegradable material must halt immediately. Namely, plastic and styrofoam; and any other such material of similar composition. This practice must cease instantly. Under pain of your personal death, or devastation. Don’t make any more of it. And don’t throw any of it away. It will have to be maintained continually, and managed correctly. All existing non-biodegradable material must be either saved for continued re-use, or recycled for new re-use. No more dumping all this shit into the earth or sea.

In fact, all that shit is gonna have to come out of there. All that waste in all those landfills, dumps and strewn on the floor of the oceans, is gonna need to go ahead and get collected and transported to a major center, where it will ALL have to be sorted through, and appropriated properly. This is something in your future. You WILL be personally embroiled in this. And not one bit of waste will be unaccounted for. Every last speck of waste will need to be painstakingly organized and processed with a fine tooth comb.

Why? Because I declare it. I speak it into existence; and henceforth, it becomes law and creed.

You want an existential cause? Reduce waste, motherfucker. Reduce waste.

Yeah, I’m pissed. You don’t shit where you eat. You don’t disrespect the zen garden. Good students don’t pollute or vandalize their training grounds. Good students don’t light their dojos on fire; nor assume the luxury of retreat into a cocoon to indulge the senses in desire while pumping out massive amounts of waste. No... That’s gonna get straightened out real fast. That’s why it’s not gonna be all that very surprising when the spoiled piglets start to squeal in desperation, after they get yanked from the teats of their warm fuzzy delusions. And don’t expect to be caressed and gently eased out of your cozy deep slumber. You’re waking up to an ice cold shower, motherfucker.

From this day forward, you are to be very self conscious of your waste production. You’re gonna need to keep that shit down to an absolute bare minimum. It’s bad enough you piss and take shits. That’s barely tolerated. But once you start making tons and tons of waste, and then start spreading that waste all over the place, thin tolerance turns quickly into zero tolerance. Then, the question becomes:

Are you worth your weight in waste?

Good question. Let’s say you weigh 180 pounds. If we stacked up 180 pounds of your waste next to you, which is without question much much less waste then you will produce in your whole lifetime, hence, this is already giving you way more then enough leeway then you deserve; will your life be enough of a justification for your own weight in waste? Waste that will now go on to only serve as a contamination of the training grounds? In the majority of cases, I say; unfortunately, I think not.

And that’s right. You are gonna be held accountable; and must justify your volume of waste. It needs to be answered for. And adjustments need to be made by the companies that are manufacturing it. So, plastic making businesses are claiming that there aren’t many options to plastic, and that the current non-plastic alternatives available are not cost effective, nor profitable? Well, that’s too bad. Looks like you’re going out of business, motherfucker. Step aside and make room for the next generation of industry pioneers who give a damn. Maybe you should concentrate more on cleaning up the mess you made, rather then how you can continue to make a fast buck at the expense of our children’s future. And I’m all for that. These companies should all be billed HARD, for every single piece of their waste found polluting the landscape. Then you’d start to see things clean up real fast. You CAN hold corporations accountable, you know. Who would have thought, right? All you have to do, is pull their dick out of your ass, get off your hands and knees and pull up your pants.

Fuck them. They had a good long run, and now it’s time to pay the piper. Polluting the planet is an act of war. So should they really be surprised by the team of armed men dressed in black with ski masks that are now climbing through their bedroom balcony window? I can’t see how. You’ve declared war on mankind. Armed assassins sneaking in your house at night while you sleep are the least of your worries! That’s why, those that are not extremely mindful of their waste output, are better off being molecularly erased. And don’t worry; that can be done with impunity. I bet you didn’t know that, did you? It can’t technically be considered murder if you molecularly erase them. They’ll have to pass new laws to try to stop that.

Bottom line. Creatures that create massive amounts of waste, and then solve this problem by throwing a bunch of dirt over it, are not very bright creatures at all. Shit. Did you know that waste is an untouched virgin resource? Imagine the millions that could be made by the guy who finally figures out how to efficiently transform waste into cash! It’s a billion dollar industry, with no takers. No one is smart enough to do it. No one has enough innovation or creativity to problem solve this, make a fortune, and transform the world into a better place. (Yeah, “the world.” Humor me on this for the moment.) It’s too bad no one can figure this out and then drown under a tidal wave of cash. I guess no one wants that money. No one wants to lay claim to those billions. Oh well. That’s too bad.

You know what we might do instead? Start shooting the garbage out into space. That’s a fucking fantastic idea!

“Shoot the waste, deep into space.”

It’s a great idea on so many levels. Mainly because it solves the problem. But also, because it will breathe life into the outer space industry, turning our interaction with space into a daily affair. And it’s not like we can “pollute space”, right? Space is empty! It’s MEANT to contain junk in it! So why not shoot waste into it? It would be completely harmless. And even if it causes a couple of bad things to happen, so what. It’s no big deal. Think of how big the universe is! Our waste is inconsequential by comparison. Even if we somehow managed to dump 100,000 years of waste into space, all at one time, it would be but a mere drop of water in an Olympic swimming pool. No big deal at all.

But there’s yet another aspect of it to get excited about; especially for the U.F.O. buffs who can’t wait for first contact! Just think of how much more faster ETs will show up here, when they find out that we have started dumping our trash into space! You want a close encounter of the 5th kind? Never mind SETI, (the search for extraterrestrial intelligence), and beaming radio waves into space 24 hours a day, monitoring electromagnetic radiation for signs of transmissions from civilizations on other planets, awaiting a reply for 40 plus years. All we gotta do, is start dumping our garbage into space, 24 hours a day. I can’t think of a faster way to entice an alien to show up here, wanting a conversation, can you? The benefits outweigh any risk. Dive in head first!

So, in closing, you’ve been put on notice. You need to start being a lot more hyper vigilant about the waste you create, because, when you boil it, what’s the better option; to deal with you, and endure your constant avalanche of relentless waste? Or, to just simply eliminate YOU instead?

It’s a no brainer.

[multi-fandomtrashtm]

So I binged Boku no Hero Academia (SPOILERS BELOW)

So I binge watched and binge read this entire series up to date in about 4 days straight. And let me tell you; this is some good shit. 

It’s a very refreshing and welcome change of pace to a lot of other big shounen. 

To start off, the protagonist, Izuku, starts off as a average guy who wants to become a hero- typical underdog plot, it’s fine. You know what I really enjoy about him? Everything.

I like that right off the bat, he has to train like hell to even start to be able to use his powers. I like how his powers have logical limits. I like how he gets around his quirk’s double edged sword in the beginning with strategy. This is the only shounen lead I’ve seen use strategy constantly and doesn’t have a craving for fighting in some form. I like his design because he doesn’t just have black dots for eyes. I like that he isn’t crazy ripped. I like that he isn’t afraid to cry. I like that he’s both striving for the top and improving himself in just about every way, not just in power. 

The art in this series is great. Personally, I find it to be my aesthetic. I like how the women don’t have huge knockers, though this series certainly isn’t the first to not have it. 

I like how the quirks and designs are unique for each character (except one, but that’s an acceptable gag). Because of their personalities and appearances, I like all of the 1-A class. 

Except Bakugo. 

Holy shit, he was such a cunt. His irrational anger at pretty much everything and him pulling a Leeroy Jenkins was more than annoying. It really bothers me how he never, ever got payback for him bullying Deku for years. Every time he opened his mouth, I just felt so irritated because he would never chill out for even a second, it seemed like. Eventually, his dickishness did tone down a little and I could acknowledge him being smart. I’ll probably never outright like him, but I can tolerate him a lot better now. Bless Kirishima for giving this boy some much needed friendship. 

For story, I’ll just go by the arc. 

Entrance Exam Arc -  Battle Trial Arc

Kind of slow paced. The first time I watched the series, I didn’t get past this because things were just so slow. 

Anyway, just exposition, character introductions and reasons to hate Bakugo. 

Unforeseen Simulation Joint Arc

Very dramatic. I like the fights in this arc. Tomura genuinely creeped me out after I got past his weird design. And his quirk...ouch. Poor Aizawa. 

Sports Festival Arc

VERY good fights and even more characters. It was during this arc that I finally acknowledged Bakugo’s intelligence and started tolerating him. 

I respected Uraraka’s fight with him. It reminded me a lot of Sakura’s fight when she cut her hair. Both girls were seriously outclassed, but tried their damndest try to win through cleverness and strategy. Both still lost, though. I appreciated Urararaka’s endurance, attitude and strategy. I’m sure that it would’ve worked against someone else. Good try. 

Ok, Deku vs Shinso is the only instance of an asspull win thus far. What happened to make Deku break out of the brainwashing just didn’t make sense. I hoped that the author would explain it down the line with All for One, but nope. 

Todoroki’s subplot was interesting. First and foremost, his dad is a dick when it comes to being a father. Experimenting with your own kids to try and project your dream onto them? Stop. Just stop. If you can’t beat All Might with your own strength, then you’ve lost, it’s over. Also, don’t tell me that Todoroki isn’t almost an anime Zuko. Because he is.

I liked Deku giving him some spur of the moment therapy and it was nice to see Todoroki surpass his trauma, if even for a short bit. The art and animation for their fight was stunning. 

Bakugo vs Todoroki was certainly epic. I’m pretty sure that Todoroki could’ve won if he’d used both sides. But I understand him stopping at the last second. A motivational speech from Deku isn’t going to magically erase a lifetime of trauma, I’m afraid. 

Sidenote: I really like Hatsume. She reminds me of Iruma from Danganronpa V3 but less bitchy. 

Field Training Arc

Gran Torino is neat, but cliche. The badass grandpa mentor? He’s this exact trope. 

Stain and Tomura’s interaction was...okay? I guess? It was an interesting conflict in ideals. It also made me realize how much of a manchild Tomura is. 

Wasn’t expecting Iida to have a revenge arc going on. It gave character depth I just wasn’t expecting. Sad that he got stomped immediately. Didn’t expect Todoroki and Iida’s bond at all, either. It’s nice that he’s reaching out, I suppose. 

Stain’s quirk was oddly specific. Deku being un-paralyzed first because of his blood type made me want to call bullshit. But I just..can’t. We knew Deku’s blood type from his profile. We knew that Stain’s ability works with blood. It’s just crazy specific. Anyway, Stain’s death was disturbing. 

End of Term Test Arc

On some level, I knew that Deku and Bakugo would get paired up. Them being able to compromise on fighting and running was a surprise given how stubborn Bakugo is ;especially with Deku. It was nice that Deku went back for Bakugo when he literally got stomped. It’s amazing how he doesn’t hold a grudge against him. 

Wasn’t expecting Yaoyorozu to have a subplot about her lack of confidence, though I had noticed it earlier. Her and Todoroki’s teamwork was neat. I didn’t see him to be the type to give a motivational speech. 

School Trip Arc

Oh boy. When shit hit the fan in the woods, I could feel how scary that would’ve been. Here you are, in the middle of the night, in the woods, probably alone or with 1 other person, surrounded by a CLOUD OF POISON, all you can hear is explosions/screaming/silence and you know that you’re a sitting duck because you don’t know where anyone else is or how strong he enemies are. 

Deku’s fight against the guy that killed Kouta’s parents was a nice show of strength. Fukami’s raging dark shadow was a nice way to get rid of a villain. Overall, I liked it. Just 2 things: 1) Bakugo saying “Don’t come, Deku” was ominous. Nice. 2) I feel like Dabi may know Todoroki somehow. Not like “heard of”, but know him, even if Todoroki doesn’t know him. 

Hideout Raid Arc

Let me tell you; this arc was beautiful. Bless Kirishima and his friendship with Bakugo. Yes please. And the Pro Heroes charging in on the League of Villains was hype as fuck. Everything about that just made me hype in a way that I hadn’t been in months. 

The play on words with All for One blew my mind. “All for One” as in “all abilities for one person” = Stealing quirks so that belong to one person only. 

All Might vs All of One was...beautiful. His determination, the visuals of him cradling the last of his power just for this fight, everyone finding out his secret, everyone cheering him on anyway...Almost got a little emotional there. 

Deku’s mom was being logical in those last chapters. I’d be wary if my son’s school kept constantly being hunted down by just about everyone and he kept getting injured every time. But through the power of Kouta’s sweet letter and All Might begging (this was also nice), she caves. 

Hero License Exam Arc

Man, everyone in this is just interesting. Not much to say except the Shapeshifter using Uraraka’s appearance was smart, but not smart enough. 

The whole Rescue Maneuvers thing was very necessary. It’s cool if you’re strong, but if you don’t know how to actually save anyone, you’re not even a hero at that point. Case and Point- Bakugo. Sure he could see who should be prioritized, but I don’t think anyone would be comforted by the way he handles things. Also, it’s hilarious that there’s actually a job of being a Professional Victim. 

Internship Arc

Of course Bakugo wants a fight. Of course. A least he’s not doing it out of irrational anger this time. 

The big 3 are kind of hilarious. It’s Kaede, Sasuke and Vault Boy. Jokes aside, Nejire is the definition of Innocently Insensitive and Tamaki is kind of adorable. 

Nighteye is perfect. I love his dead serious attitude and love of humor. His process of hiring Deku was neat. It’s funny how they’re both huge nerds when it comes to All Might. Look at all that merch!

Eri is cute and I can already see the fandom calling her “an innocent, sweet cinnamon roll to be protected.” Overhaul is intimidating and he reminds me of Law from One Piece. With his ability he could literally annihilate you. Damn. 

Kirishima and Fat Gum’s alliance (even though Kirishima got stomped immediately) was sweet. More than that, I just like the fight itself and Rappa’s attitude. And Toga is joining the fray, well, this is going to be messy. 

 AND THAT’S ALL CHAPTER TILL NOW! 

Whew, that was a lot. 

That said, I really do like this series. It’s my new weekly read. 

[rabidwerewolfie]

WARNING: UNSAFE TERRAIN AHEAD

Ok, so....

The internet is NOT a safe space.

Discord is ESPECIALLY not a safe space.

This should not NEED to be said but it still does. The internet is like a common room. Almost anyone can use it and you may or may not agree with what goes on there, but as long as it’s not illegal, who cares!

Discord is like a series of covered picnic tables in this common area where people hang out to drink coffee, smoke, and trade pokemon cards. It’s largely made up of groups of vaguely friendly strangers who tolerate you. They may even enjoy your company in limited doses. But chances are, you’re not good friends there.

Obviously this doesn’t apply to private servers, I’m talking the mostly public ones here where everyone gathers for one or two shared interests.

So, what brings up this rant, you may ask? Well, I like the occasional browser sim. I’m in two different servers for two different animal-breeding sims, and in BOTH of those servers, there are people sharing FAR too much information about shit going on in their lives.

Now at least on one of those two servers, it’s more private, personal invite only, so we’re mostly an intimate group of friends, some who even know each other in real life, so it’s more understandable. I don’t care for it, but it’s not nearly so bad as.....

My OTHER server. Which is based around a cute lion game and ANYONE, literally ANYONE with a discord account, is welcome to come in. If you don’t play the game, chances are you’ll get bored in 5 minutes and leave, but you’re welcome to pop in anyway. The point is, we’re all basically just a big group of barely-tolerant strangers puffing on our trendy e-cigs while browsing our smart phones and exchanging office gossip about Carol and Tom.

And yet there’s several people in there over-sharing drama as if they were exchanging phone numbers at a swinger’s party. One of them can’t reach a therapist, so they decide to spill a lifetime of regret into a rants section. Another one is apparently undergoing physical and mental abuse while manufacturing all the reasons they can’t do anything about it. Several more apparently have self esteem issues that I honestly can’t be bothered to give a shit about.

And there’s so damn much compliment baiting!! “I’m so worthless.” “I call myself trash every day.” “I just want to curl up and die.” Well go fucking do it in private and stop cluttering up the server with your emotional baggage! I’m tripping over this shit just to post a stupid comment in Meme’s or a lion picture in the picture spam section.

I’ve had my own share of bullshit happen in my life. I’ve currently got my OWN problems to deal with and my own messes to sweep under the rug. The difference is, when I was growing up, I was taught that you don’t air your dirty laundry in town square. You clean that shit up and hang it up in your OWN back yard where it belongs.

That means the entire world is not your god damn dumping ground. You don’t have to bottle things up. In fact, you shouldn’t. It’s terribly unhealthy. BUT! You shouldn’t over-share either. Talk to someone you trust, talk to a professional, talk to a professional who gets paid way too much to sit and listen to you whine like a triggered tumblrite. If you’re REALLY feeling attention whorish, make a youtube account and talk about it there. At least on youtube someone has to go looking to find you.

Don’t blurt it out all over the first place you come to. Don’t burden strangers with your bullshit. I don’t want it. I have PLENTY of my own here, thanks. Just because I don’t talk about it, doesn’t mean I’m in need of yours.

If the fact that I don’t give one solitary shit about people I have no actual connection to offends you, please don’t tell me about it. That would miss the ENTIRE point of this long ass ramble.

No TL;DR. This has been a PSA.

[eightarmsnohands]

Peace In Time

Martin David Sellers sat in his car with the radio on low, but he wasn���t listening.  It was just noise beneath his thoughts.  He watched as people exited the gym in groups of two or three.  A woman would occasionally leave alone, but she wouldn’t be his type.  The solitary men were too big for Martin.  It began to get frustrating.  It had been almost two years and his urges were becoming unmanageable.  His leg began to shake and he instinctively began to pat himself for his pack of smokes.  Nothing.  He’d quit...almost two years ago.  

His mind conjured the stink of smoke, and when he looked at his hand on the steering wheel, yellow-brown rot creeped from his fingernails down to his wrist.  He looked to his ashtray yearning; a thin layer of cigarette ash, like bone dust, still clung to the black plastic.  Martin pushed out a big sigh and ran his hands down his face, trying to pull himself together.  He covered his mouth and let out a loud groan.

Refocusing his attention, he saw him.  Medium height, slightly in shape but wearing gym clothes meant for men way more muscular, heavily pomaded hair, neck tattoos…

Fucking douchebag.  He’s perfect.

Martin started his car and waited for Douchebag to get in his car and drive away.  He noted the details of the car and whispered the plate number to himself a few times as he pulled out and began to follow.  He kept the music low, and tried to sing along to appear normal but too soon did the music on the radio devolve into the warped droning in Martin’s ears, goading him to keep his eyes on Douchebag’s car.

It was less than a fifteen minute drive from the gym to his house.  Martin noted the time.  Douchebag pulled into his driveway.  Martin parked his car a few houses down and lightly jogged toward the open garage.  He unfolded the knife and barked the same words he’s barked several times before:

“Stop what you’re doing and turn around.  If you don’t comply I will cut your throat.”

Douchebag was bent over the trunk of his car, getting his gym bag.  His body went rigid.  He awkwardly “put his hands up” while still bent over.  His voice was muffled as he yelled into his trunk.

“Okay man, okay.  I’m gonna turn around.  Just don’t do anything okay?”

Martin didn’t respond.  Douchebag slowly but steadily backed out of the trunk and turned to face Martin.  Martin’s mind filled first with hatred, as he was even more of a dick when up close, then the thrill of knowing he’d picked a perfect one.

“My name is Brent, okay?  You can have my wallet, the car, whatever just don’t-”

Martin charged forward with the knife pointed low toward Brent.  Brent backed into the garage, his hands still up.

“We are going inside, Brent.  You’re going to do as I say, Brent.”

Brent sighed and whimpered as Martin shoved him through the door into the house, being sure to close the garage behind him.  The moment they were in the living room, Brent turned and started swinging wildly at Martin.  Martin shielded himself and charged forward, tackling Brent to the ground.  Martin hated doing it when they were fighting back.  He actually lost the desire to do it, but there really was no choice, no going back, once they’d cross that certain threshold.  Trespassing, assault, attempted murder.  It was all the same so may as well keep going.  But he enjoyed it the most when he was able to do it at leisure.

As the two men fought, Martin swore he heard Brent mutter, “Just fucking do it already.”

Martin was struck with an overwhelming sense of familiarity.  He stopped holding Brent down and popped up.  His hands were covered in smeared ink.  Below him, a blonde wig lay torn half off and Brent’s neck tattoo was completely smeared.   “Brent” was something Martin always dreaded in the back of his mind every time he did it.

“Larry fucking Coleman.  Larry FUCKING Coleman.  LARRY FUCKING COLEMAN!!!”  Martin screamed.  He got up off Larry.

“Hey Marty,” he huffed, out of breath.

Martin was stomping around the living room, screaming gibberish at the top of his lungs.  “I’m insane, I’m insane, I’m insane.  Of course I’m insane, I’m a fucking sociopath, but no I am honestly full on schizo fucking phrenic.”  

Larry began trying to calm Martin, because even though no murder was going to take place anymore, they still did not want to arouse suspicion.  

“Marty, calm down.  Marty.  MARTY!”  Larry reached for Martin but Martin shrugged away from his every attempt.  “HEY I DON’T FUCKIN’ LIKE IT EITHER OKAY?” Larry shouted.  

Martin stopped pacing and looked at Larry, whose breathlessness was becoming sobbing.  “I’ve been 37 for 300 years, you know how many wars that is?  Do you know how many famines and diseases that is?  Do you know how many lovers and wives and children and dead children that is?  Do you know how lonely that is?  You know, Marty, you’re the only person I’ve met that might have a concept of how lonely that is.  The first time you tried this I looked in your eyes and I saw what I see in the mirror.  Eyes that have seen more years than they can count.”

Martin stood there, unsure of what to say, or if to even say anything.  He folded his knife back up,  the bite of frustration receding, the droning beginning to quiet.  And now an impossible reality was blinking at him, waiting for his response.

“I’m sorry, Larry.  I’m sorry it doesn’t work.  I’m sorry it hasn’t worked.”

“No, I’m sorry.  Luring you out like this.  You were doing really good, weren’t you?  It’s been a few years since that couple in Tahoe, eh?  Looked like you were done.”

Martin shook his head, dumbfounded but amused.  He chuckled.  “I was.  I was.  But work’s been rough.  They’ve been promoting people that have been there for way less time than I have, and I’m always explaining shit to them.  Real dumb jock types.  You can’t escape the hierarchy...”

“Hence,” Larry began but Martin shooed him quiet.  “You always hated that type of man,” Larry snuck in.

“The husband in Tahoe was a college football star, actually, fuckin’ dick.  But I’m sure you knew that.  Man, thank god you’re not the cops.”

“Marty, if the cops had as much time on their hands as I do, there would be no unsolved crime.  There might not even be crime.”

“But I stabbed you the first time, in ‘90.  Like, a lot.”

“I know, and I’ve bled out before.  I just, I dunno, I thought as time went on I became...less immortal?  You know, like it would take me longer and longer to wake up again and eventually I’d just stay dead.  I needed to test the theory but it’s actually pretty hard to die on your own.  Like, without causing an accident that would hurt or kill someone else?  And it’s not like I could call you and say ‘Hey wanna come over and murder me?’  I don’t even have your phone number!  Plus I figure it would take the fun or pleasure or whatever out of it for you.”

Martin shrugged in admittance.  His head was swimming but he began to breathe like they told him to, and he stayed in the moment, taking tenuous grasps on the implications of what he was hearing and seeing.

“What about suicide?”

“I’m still scared of dying, Martin.  It can be painful, but I don’t need to tell you that.  The closest I’ve come is alcohol poisoning.  And jumping into traffic and stuff like that is out too.  Even if I don’t get someone killed or injured, they still have to live with whatever they see.  That’s pretty traumatic for most people, ya know?”

“Most people.  Hence…?”  Martin raised an inquisitive hand.

Larry nodded.

“So you just what, go to sleep for a while?”

“Pretty much.  Four or five hours.  Never six.  Never even a minute over five.  I’ve timed it.”

“And do you note when it’s five hours and when it’s four?”

“Yes but that’s a weird thing to fixate on.  The more violent deaths are usually the five hour cycle.  USUALLY.  But that’s what got me thinking about you.  The only thing I haven’t tried is being dismembered and having my parts separated by great distances but that’s a tall order for one person, and dangerous.  I’d rather not try it than have it fail because you got caught along the way.”

“I have my limits too, you know,” Martin stammered.  “I’m not a monster.”

“I know, Martin, I know.  I know more than you think I know.  I understand it, believe me.  But I didn’t mean you.”

“Ah.  Yeah.  It wasn’t so easy this time.  You’ll never see 40 but I’m looking down the barrel of 50 these days.  I won’t be around forever if you want to keep trying this.”

The men had been standing in the living room face to face, but Larry finally let out a sigh and sat on the couch.  He pulled off his wig and tossed it on the floor.  He smoothed back jet black hair, he rubbed unwrinkled blue eyes.  The older man, all thin blonde hair and scruff, sat beside him.

“I go through phases.  Stretches of years, decades even, when life is beautiful.  I travel, I drink, I fuck, I go places most people will never see in their lifetime.  It’s just, it’s a magnificent time and place to be.  Then sometimes I get so low and sick of people that I don’t leave or even get out of bed until I am absolutely unable to tolerate my own filth.  Better that than be out in the world.  It’s not a fair world though, and it never was.  But, again, I think you know what I mean.”

“Yeah.  But fairness is a strange thing to be fixated on, I’m told.  I don’t see it though.  An unfair world is a pointless world.”

“I’ll drink to that.  I’ll dedicate a toast to you if I ever see it.  To Martin David Sellers, and a world he could have been normal in.  A shame it came a few centuries too late.”

The two men burst out laughing, tones of humor and sad irony emanated from both for a few odd moments before they both fell silent, both fixated at the wall in front of them.

“I wasn’t gonna tell you this,” Larry began.  “But I’m not the only one.”

“Please shut up.  Are you shitting me?”

“No man, I’m not the only one I swear it.  I’ve met tons like me.  Maybe not tons, but enough, ya know?  We just keep away from each other because we’re all intolerable fucks.”

“So it’s luck of the draw then?  You don’t know until you know?”

“No...no, Martin.  It happens to everybody.  It just depends on how long you stay dead.  For me and a few other unlucky bastards it’s only a few hours.  Other people, it’s longer.  Years, decades, millenia.  The ones that can time it still remember the details of their lives but the ones that die for more than a couple years, it’s fuzzy.  Some are totally different people.  But everyone wakes up again...eventually.”

“I’m gonna fucking puke.”

“I did, when I found out.”

“What about people who stay dead for longer?  Like eons or whatever?”

“No clue.  Humanity has only been around for so long, right?  The theory is that humanity exists somewhere else way way down the line, and that’s where those folks wake up.  But all that shit makes it hard to sleep so I try not to think about it.  The hardest thing for me has been accepting that death is not permanent.  I’m stuck being me for eternity.  Four hours is not enough time to forget 300 years of bullshit.”

The two men sat alone for another long moment.  Martin spoke.

“I need a drink.”

“You want company?”

Martin turned to Larry.  “Probably not right now.”

“Yeah you got a lot to think about, probably better you chew on it alone for a bit.”

“Yeah,” Martin sighed.  “Someday though.”

“Someday.  Hey Martin, are you...gonna try again after this?”

Martin stood up and began walking toward the door.  “I don’t know.  Probably not, or maybe I will.  It doesn’t really matter does it?”

“Sure it does.  If they wake up and remember what happened, it fucks them up.  For way longer than you think it would.  That might not matter to you, but you struck me as more of a fear guy than a suffering guy.  Suffering isn’t fair, after all.”

“And what about the others, what about that unfairness?”

“Well, now you know you have time to atone.  It won’t be fun either.”

“Oh I’m counting on that.  And you, are you gonna stop trying to die?”  Martin reached in his pocket and pulled out his knife.  The handle was wooden and burnt into the wood was the phrase ‘Time the avenger.’

“No clue.  Tomorrow might be a great day or it might not.  Only one way to find out though.”

“Yeah, well.”  Martin tossed the knife to Larry.  “When I get to the bar I’ll drink to Larry, neither alive nor dead, may he find peace in time.”  The two men laughed one more time.

And Martin left.

Martin David Sellers sat in his car with the radio on low, but he wasn’t listening.  It was just noise beneath his thoughts.  He watched as people exited the gym in groups of two or three.  A woman would occasionally leave alone, but she wouldn’t be his type.  The solitary men were too big for Martin.  It began to get frustrating.  It had been almost two years and his urges were becoming unmanageable.  His leg began to shake and he instinctively began to pat himself for his pack of smokes.  Nothing.  He’d quit...almost two years ago.  

His mind conjured the stink of smoke, and when he looked at his hand on the steering wheel, yellow-brown rot creeped from his fingernails down to his wrist.  He looked to his ashtray yearning; a thin layer of cigarette ash, like bone dust, still clung to the black plastic.  Martin pushed out a big sigh and ran his hands down his face, trying to pull himself together.  He covered his mouth and let out a loud groan.

Refocusing his attention, he saw him.  Medium height, slightly in shape but wearing gym clothes meant for men way more muscular, heavily pomaded hair, neck tattoos…

Fucking douchebag.  He’s perfect.

Martin started his car and waited for Douchebag to get in his car and drive away.  He noted the details of the car and whispered the plate number to himself a few times as he pulled out and began to follow.  He kept the music low, and tried to sing along to appear normal but too soon did the music on the radio devolve into the warped droning in Martin’s ears, goading him to keep his eyes on Douchebag’s car.

It was less than a fifteen minute drive from the gym to his house.  Martin noted the time.  Douchebag pulled into his driveway.  Martin parked his car a few houses down and lightly jogged toward the open garage.  He unfolded the knife and barked the same words he’s barked several times before:

“Stop what you’re doing and turn around.  If you don’t comply I will cut your throat.”

Douchebag was bent over the trunk of his car, getting his gym bag.  His body went rigid.  He awkwardly “put his hands up” while still bent over.  His voice was muffled as he yelled into his trunk.

“Okay man, okay.  I’m gonna turn around.  Just don’t do anything okay?”

Martin didn’t respond.  Douchebag slowly but steadily backed out of the trunk and turned to face Martin.  Martin’s mind filled first with hatred, as he was even more of a dick when up close, then the thrill of knowing he’d picked a perfect one.

“My name is Brent, okay?  You can have my wallet, the car, whatever just don’t-”

Martin charged forward with the knife pointed low toward Brent.  Brent backed into the garage, his hands still up.

“We are going inside, Brent.  You’re going to do as I say, Brent.”

Brent sighed and whimpered as Martin shoved him through the door into the house, being sure to close the garage behind him.  The moment they were in the living room, Brent turned and started swinging wildly at Martin.  Martin shielded himself and charged forward, tackling Brent to the ground.  Martin hated doing it when they were fighting back.  He actually lost the desire to do it, but there really was no choice, no going back, once they’d cross that certain threshold.  Trespassing, assault, attempted murder.  It was all the same so may as well keep going.  But he enjoyed it the most when he was able to do it at leisure.

As the two men fought, Martin swore he heard Brent mutter, “Just fucking do it already.”

Martin was struck with an overwhelming sense of familiarity.  He stopped holding Brent down and popped up.  His hands were covered in smeared ink.  Below him, a blonde wig lay torn half off and Brent’s neck tattoo was completely smeared.   “Brent” was something Martin always dreaded in the back of his mind every time he did it.

“Larry fucking Coleman.  Larry FUCKING Coleman.  LARRY FUCKING COLEMAN!!!”  Martin screamed.  He got up off Larry.

“Hey Marty,” he huffed, out of breath.

Martin was stomping around the living room, screaming gibberish at the top of his lungs.  “I’m insane, I’m insane, I’m insane.  Of course I’m insane, I’m a fucking sociopath, but no I am honestly full on schizo fucking phrenic.”  

Larry began trying to calm Martin, because even though no murder was going to take place anymore, they still did not want to arouse suspicion.  

“Marty, calm down.  Marty.  MARTY!”  Larry reached for Martin but Martin shrugged away from his every attempt.  “HEY I DON’T FUCKIN’ LIKE IT EITHER OKAY?” Larry shouted.  

Martin stopped pacing and looked at Larry, whose breathlessness was becoming sobbing.  “I’ve been 37 for 300 years, you know how many wars that is?  Do you know how many famines and diseases that is?  Do you know how many lovers and wives and children and dead children that is?  Do you know how lonely that is?  You know, Marty, you’re the only person I’ve met that might have a concept of how lonely that is.  The first time you tried this I looked in your eyes and I saw what I see in the mirror.  Eyes that have seen more years than they can count.”

Martin stood there, unsure of what to say, or if to even say anything.  He folded his knife back up,  the bite of frustration receding, the droning beginning to quiet.  And now an impossible reality was blinking at him, waiting for his response.

“I’m sorry, Larry.  I’m sorry it doesn’t work.  I’m sorry it hasn’t worked.”

“No, I’m sorry.  Luring you out like this.  You were doing really good, weren’t you?  It’s been a few years since that couple in Tahoe, eh?  Looked like you were done.”

Martin shook his head, dumbfounded but amused.  He chuckled.  “I was.  I was.  But work’s been rough.  They’ve been promoting people that have been there for way less time than I have, and I’m always explaining shit to them.  Real dumb jock types.  You can’t escape the hierarchy...”

“Hence,” Larry began but Martin shooed him quiet.  “You always hated that type of man,” Larry snuck in.

“The husband in Tahoe was a college football star, actually, fuckin’ dick.  But I’m sure you knew that.  Man, thank god you’re not the cops.”

“Marty, if the cops had as much time on their hands as I do, there would be no unsolved crime.  There might not even be crime.”

“But I stabbed you the first time, in ‘90.  Like, a lot.”

“I know, and I’ve bled out before.  I just, I dunno, I thought as time went on I became...less immortal?  You know, like it would take me longer and longer to wake up again and eventually I’d just stay dead.  I needed to test the theory but it’s actually pretty hard to die on your own.  Like, without causing an accident that would hurt or kill someone else?  And it’s not like I could call you and say ‘Hey wanna come over and murder me?’  I don’t even have your phone number!  Plus I figure it would take the fun or pleasure or whatever out of it for you.”

Martin shrugged in admittance.  His head was swimming but he began to breathe like they told him to, and he stayed in the moment, taking tenuous grasps on the implications of what he was hearing and seeing.

“What about suicide?”

“I’m still scared of dying, Martin.  It can be painful, but I don’t need to tell you that.  The closest I’ve come is alcohol poisoning.  And jumping into traffic and stuff like that is out too.  Even if I don’t get someone killed or injured, they still have to live with whatever they see.  That’s pretty traumatic for most people, ya know?”

“Most people.  Hence…?”  Martin raised an inquisitive hand.

Larry nodded.

“So you just what, go to sleep for a while?”

“Pretty much.  Four or five hours.  Never six.  Never even a minute over five.  I’ve timed it.”

“And do you note when it’s five hours and when it’s four?”

“Yes but that’s a weird thing to fixate on.  The more violent deaths are usually the five hour cycle.  USUALLY.  But that’s what got me thinking about you.  The only thing I haven’t tried is being dismembered and having my parts separated by great distances but that’s a tall order for one person, and dangerous.  I’d rather not try it than have it fail because you got caught along the way.”

“I have my limits too, you know,” Martin stammered.  “I’m not a monster.”

“I know, Martin, I know.  I know more than you think I know.  I understand it, believe me.  But I didn’t mean you.”

“Ah.  Yeah.  It wasn’t so easy this time.  You’ll never see 40 but I’m looking down the barrel of 50 these days.  I won’t be around forever if you want to keep trying this.”

The men had been standing in the living room face to face, but Larry finally let out a sigh and sat on the couch.  He pulled off his wig and tossed it on the floor.  He smoothed back jet black hair, he rubbed unwrinkled blue eyes.  The older man, all thin blonde hair and scruff, sat beside him.

“I go through phases.  Stretches of years, decades even, when life is beautiful.  I travel, I drink, I fuck, I go places most people will never see in their lifetime.  It’s just, it’s a magnificent time and place to be.  Then sometimes I get so low and sick of people that I don’t leave or even get out of bed until I am absolutely unable to tolerate my own filth.  Better that than be out in the world.  It’s not a fair world though, and it never was.  But, again, I think you know what I mean.”

“Yeah.  But fairness is a strange thing to be fixated on, I’m told.  I don’t see it though.  An unfair world is a pointless world.”

“I’ll drink to that.  I’ll dedicate a toast to you if I ever see it.  To Martin David Sellers, and a world he could have been normal in.  A shame it came a few centuries too late.”

The two men burst out laughing, tones of humor and sad irony emanated from both for a few odd moments before they both fell silent, both fixated at the wall in front of them.

“I wasn’t gonna tell you this,” Larry began.  “But I’m not the only one.”

“Please shut up.  Are you shitting me?”

“No man, I’m not the only one I swear it.  I’ve met tons like me.  Maybe not tons, but enough, ya know?  We just keep away from each other because we’re all intolerable fucks.”

“So it’s luck of the draw then?  You don’t know until you know?”

“No...no, Martin.  It happens to everybody.  It just depends on how long you stay dead.  For me and a few other unlucky bastards it’s only a few hours.  Other people, it’s longer.  Years, decades, millenia.  The ones that can time it still remember the details of their lives but the ones that die for more than a couple years, it’s fuzzy.  Some are totally different people.  But everyone wakes up again...eventually.”

“I’m gonna fucking puke.”

“I did, when I found out.”

“What about people who stay dead for longer?  Like eons or whatever?”

“No clue.  Humanity has only been around for so long, right?  The theory is that humanity exists somewhere else way way down the line, and that’s where those folks wake up.  But all that shit makes it hard to sleep so I try not to think about it.  The hardest thing for me has been accepting that death is not permanent.  I’m stuck being me for eternity.  Four hours is not enough time to forget 300 years of bullshit.”

The two men sat alone for another long moment.  Martin spoke.

“I need a drink.”

“You want company?”

Martin turned to Larry.  “Probably not right now.”

“Yeah you got a lot to think about, probably better you chew on it alone for a bit.”

“Yeah,” Martin sighed.  “Someday though.”

“Someday.  Hey Martin, are you...gonna try again after this?”

Martin stood up and began walking toward the door.  “I don’t know.  Probably not, or maybe I will.  It doesn’t really matter does it?”

“Sure it does.  If they wake up and remember what happened, it fucks them up.  For way longer than you think it would.  That might not matter to you, but you struck me as more of a fear guy than a suffering guy.  Suffering isn’t fair, after all.”

“And what about the others, what about that unfairness?”

“Well, now you know you have time to atone.  It won’t be fun either.”

“Oh I’m counting on that.  And you, are you gonna stop trying to die?”  Martin reached in his pocket and pulled out his knife.  The handle was wooden and burnt into the wood was the phrase ‘Time the avenger.’

“No clue.  Tomorrow might be a great day or it might not.  Only one way to find out though.”

“Yeah, well.”  Martin tossed the knife to Larry.  “When I get to the bar I’ll drink to Larry, neither alive nor dead, may he find peace in time.”  The two men laughed one more time.

And Martin left.

Thank you for reading!  This story was inspired by the Reddit writing prompt,  “You are a murderer. You can't help but notice that you keep killing this one guy over and over and over again. Unbeknownst to you, they're an immortal, constantly checking if they can die yet by deliberately making themselves a target.”