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desiraypark · 4 years

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When the Sun Sleeps in Canto Bight [5]

Previous Entire Work CHAPTER PLAYERS

The Knights of Ren: Ushar, Cardo, Trudgen, Ap’lek, Vicrul aka “Vic”, and Kuruk) Kylo Ren, Leader of the Knights of Ren Ruby Girard, The Beautiful Singer CHAPTER CONTENT N*FW -| Sexual content; mention of sex work; alcohol; language; back-story Additional Notes: Galactic Standard Calendar | 1920s Stockings, Tights, Nylons, Socks History by Vintage Dancer (scroll down to see how women of color (particularly Black women) wore their stockings) Word Count: 2,721

“I don’t get it. You fuck ‘em good, you give ‘em money and nice clothes—put ‘em up in a nice place, and they still aren’t satisfied. If I was a broad, I would be a-fuckin’ okay,” Ushar said, leaning back in a chair and smoking a cigarette. “She wants the ring, man. She wants the ring,” Cardo said. He was cleaning his gun. “Well, I’ve got a damn wife! Shit!” Ushar proclaimed. The Knights of Ren—all but Kylo, Vic, and Kuruk—were sitting in office of The Garden Lounge—their flagship establishment for over thirty years. It was a placed that lived up to its name: beautiful plant décor in the lounge; sky blue walls and plush brown carpeting—girls dressed in just enough to not be obscene, but just a little to remind you of “nature”, if you will. Vic was out front entertaining guests and Kuruk was manning the office. Trudgen was leaning against the teak-wood desk, downing a glass of whiskey, while Ap’lek was stretched out across the chaise. Finally, Kylo came in.

“Evening, fellas,” Kylo said. “Evening,” they responded. “Where’s Vic?” Kylo asked as he sat behind his desk. “Minglin’,” Ap’lek answered. “Do you have your fuckin’ shoes on my couch?” Kylo asked. Ap’lek sat up and planted his feet on the floor. “Sorry, Boss.” “What’s goin’ on with the wife?” Kylo asked Ushar. He shook his head. “Wife’s fine. It’s the other one that’s bein’ a fuckin’ brat,” he responded. “Why don’t you get rid of her?” Kylo asked, organizing things that didn’t need organizing on his desk. “Pussy’s too good, man.” The Knights chuckled. “Can somebody get—” Kylo started. At that moment, Vic walked through the door and left it open. Kuruk stood outside but stayed close enough to the office to hear what was going on. Vic sat beside Ushar, and Trudgen sat beside Ap’lek on the sofa. Kylo looked up at Kuruk and waved him in. “Come on in, Kuruk. Nobody’s gonna barge in here,” he said. Kuruk nodded, closed the door, and leaned against the wall beside it. “What’s goin’ on, fellas? Ap’lek, anything you wanna discuss?” Kylo asked. “Nope.” “I hear the Kesyk gang’s got a hold of some new toys. Automatic. Fast,” Cardo chimed in. “What makes ‘em special?” Kylo asked. “Faster. More precise. Lightweight,” Cardo answered. “Interesting. Look into it. How’s tricks?” “Steady,” Ushar answered. “The johns are startin’ to get a little bold, though. One of ‘em got a little rough with Hela and she cut him.” “Why can’t these bastards shoot their fuckin’ nut and leave?” Kylo asked. “How’s Hela?” “You know her. She’s cool but she said she’ll do it again,” Ushar answered. “As she fuckin’ should.

“Yeah, but--you think that would drive men away?” Ushar asked. “These fuckin’ johns would step over alligators to get some ass. And they know we’ve got the best fuckin’ girls and guys in Canto Bight. If they act like they have some sense, they ain’t gotta worry about nobody pullin’ no fuckin’ blades on ‘em.”

Ushar shrugged in reluctant agreement, and Vic smiled to himself.

The booze?” Kylo asked.

“Booze is flowin’. Hearin’ more complaints from South Side, though,” Vic answered. “They still waterin’ the shit down?” Kylo asked. “No. This time they’re puttin’ in too much,” Vic answered.

“People goin’ in for a couple of drinks and walkin’ out eatin’ the fuckin’ concrete,” Trudgen chimed in. He polished off his whiskey. “Fuckin’ idiots. I guess the only thing we can do is give them a fuckin’ recipe book or somethin’,” Kylo said. “Anything else goin’ on?” “Nope/No, boss,” the Knights said in unison. Vic cleared his throat. “There is one thing. Ren’s cousin reached out to me,” he said. “Sheev? That fuckin’ weirdo. What does he want?” “He was very vague. Said he wanted to discuss business and his “retirement”. Said to swing by the Death Star anytime. I was thinking Primeday? Around 2?” Vic suggested. “No can do. Got plans on Primeday. Centaxday. Afternoon.” Vic nodded. **********************

PRIMEDAY

Kylo had spent the afternoon before dreaming up the perfect Primeday dinner. Everything usually closed or closed early on Primeday, so he had to think fast. Once he got an idea, he made his list and headed out to the markets—the butcher for lamb chops; the produce vendor for potatoes, mushrooms, lemons, and carrots. He’d even snatched a bottle of wine from the Garden Lounge’s inventory, and bought a chocolate cake from the bakery. Ruby agreed to be picked up at three.

When Kylo pulled up at about 2:55, Ruby stood outside her building wearing another pink dress, blue baby doll heels, white stockings, and holding a white clutch in her hand. Thick curls peeped out of her white cloche hat. As she walked to the car, he climbed out and lifted his hands. “What the fuck are you doing?” he asked. Ruby froze. “What?” “You’re supposed to wait for me to come to your fuckin’ door,” he said. Ruby shook her head and kept walking, and he walked toward her. She looked him over—his tall figure dressed from head to toe in black: black trousers, black shirt, black vest, black oxfords. “I just thought it would be more convenient for me to wait outside for you,” she fibbed. Truth was, she didn’t want Crystal sizing him up and asking him questions. Kylo took her hand and led her to the car.

Kylo had called Ruby’s building a dump. His building was nice, but so lifeless and empty. No art on the walls; no flowers. His own apartment was similar. Clean. Very clean and neat. But no art. No colorful accents to catch your eye. He had a gramophone but owned no records. At least he had a radio. After he’d poured her a glass of wine in his tiny kitchen, she’d taken it upon herself to go into the living room and turn it on. Then, she got a better look at the place—no pictures. Just a burgundy couch that appeared to never have been sat on and a dining table with only two chairs in the corner. “You gonna leave me in here by myself, Babydoll?” Kylo called from the kitchen. Ruby smiled and walked back into the kitchen. Kylo had taken off his vest and rolled up his sleeves. He was standing over his stove, putting potatoes into a pot of water. Then, he went into the icebox and pulled out a thick piece of brown paper—stuffed with something. Ruby leaned against the counter and watched him work, trying to bite down a smile. “Tell me about yourself,” he requested. Ruby took a sip of her wine. “You first.” She saw his chest rise and fall, trapping a chuckle. “What do you wanna know?” Ruby thought back to the things Crystal told her. Where to start? Why did he call himself Kylo Ren if he was a Solo? An Organa? She chose to point at the most intriguing target. “Did you try to kill your father?” she asked. Kylo dropped pieces of meat into a bowl he’d filled with water. “I didn’t try to kill him. We got into a fight. He was winning. I pulled a knife on him to scare him off.” Ruby’s jaw dropped. “Oh…” Kylo didn’t continue. “May I ask what the fight was about?” Kylo sighed. He grabbed a bottle of vinegar from his cupboard and poured some into the bowl.

“I’d been out with some friends. Fuckin’ around. Stayed the night with some br--some girl--and didn’t come home until the next morning. I was 18. Thought I was a man. My dad wouldn’t let me inside. Told me I was falling to the Dark Side...that I needed to repent and start coming to sanctuary with him, yada-yada-yada. I told him to shove his sanctuary up his ass and we just started brawlin’ in front of the neighbors.” “So, you’ve always been a little smart mouth,” Ruby joked. Kylo laughed. “Not always. I was just tired of people telling me what to do.” Ruby put her wine glass on the counter, grabbed the edge, then lifted herself to sit high. Then, she yanked off her hat and fluffed her hair. “What did your mom have to say about all of this?” she asked. “She did what she usually did. Defended me in front of him. Because she hates him just as much as I do. But told me how much of a disappoint I was to her behind closed doors.” Ruby’s watched Kylo move about in silence--moving the meat around in the bowl. Everything was making sense. The typical tale—poor little rich boy, rebellious and angry. He glanced at her, then avoided her sympathetic stare--placing his eyes on the pot of boiling potatoes instead.

“I’m sorry you went through that,” she said. He shrugged and washed his hands.

"Eh. I’m over it. It was a long time ago,” he said. He dried his hands on a towel, then poured himself a glass of wine. “Your turn,” he said as he poured.

“What do you want to know?” Ruby asked, echoing him. “Tell me about your parents.” He rested his hip against the counter and took a sip.

“I think…my mom is essentially your dad,” she said with chuckle. “Everything is dark-sided to her. Singing about anything unrelated to the gods. The radio. Picture shows. Lipstick. She didn’t have to put me out. As soon as I turned 18, I was outta there.” Kylo listened to Ruby speak, but found himself getting lost in her--her hands that moved with every word she said; brown legs that lifted by the knee when the edge of the counter started cutting off her circulation. Even when she talked, there seemed to be a melody in her voice. She spoke highly of her father—apparently he was a laid-back and funny man—and she justified her mother’s puritan ways by admission of her being protective and caring. “So, mom wouldn’t think too highly of me, huh?” Kylo asked. “Oh, she’d probably melt into a puddle, she’d be so incensed,” Ruby said with a laugh. She guzzled the remainder of her wine. Ruby’s laugh made him smile. He tapped his fingers against his wine glass. “What does Ruby think about me?” he asked. A stillness fell over her. She stared at Kylo’s face—dark eyes boring into her; long waves draped over the side of his face as the result of a side part. Her eyes fell onto the stitches on his cheek, then back at his irises. “I think you’re impulsive and hot-headed,” she said. Kylo rolled his eyes and smirked. “…and passionate. Maybe even loyal...in search of something…” Potatoes began to knock against each other in the pot. Kylo stared into Ruby’s eyes, then at her painted lips. They parted just a centimeter, as though tired of being pressed together. Tired of not being touched. Kylo leaned in close and stopped. Ruby traveled the rest of the space and pressed her lips to his. He moved to stand directly in front of her and held the nape of her neck, pulling her closer as she rested her hands on his waist. He stopped kissing her but didn’t pull his face away. “You want me to stop?” he asked breathlessly. His heart was pounding and he silently prayed that she said “no”. “No,” she said. Kylo pressed his lips back against hers and ran his hand up her thigh. She held the back of his neck and deepened their kiss—pushing her tongue into his mouth. He let her tongue in, and the hand that was on her neck, moved up to grab a handful of her curls. Ruby moaned into his mouth and opened her knees. The feeling of Ruby’s knees moving against him made Kylo stiffen. His hand moved further up her thigh, and in between them. He slipped two fingers past the seat of her panties and rubbed them against her outer lips. Then, he rubbed his way to her warm core and pushed them inside. Ruby pulled her face away and rested her head against the cupboard. Her eyes were wide. “Your fingers are big,” she said with shock in her voice. Kylo smiled and kept fingering. He pushed her left knee open some more, then watched her face crinkle. She closed her eyes and bit down on her lip—allowing ecstasy to overtake her. Then, he stopped fingering her and bent at his waist. Just as he did so, the water on the stove began to boil harder. He jumped up—annoyed at the stove for doing its job—turned the burner off, yanked Ruby’s panties down, and put them in his pants pocket. Then, he pushed back the skirt of Ruby’s dress. She tilted to the left to lift the right hem, then tilted to the right to lift the left—revealing the hooked garters that pressed into her fleshy thighs and held her nylons up. She let the bottom of her dress bunch at her waist.

Kylo stared at her vulva—everything. The lips; the slit leaking from its top and probably down to her core with arousal; the brown rosebud that was fighting to be seen. Ruby pressed her palms against the counter and opened her legs more. Kylo smirked. “Anxious?” he asked. “Yes. I am,” she answered—breath loud, hot, and sure. Kylo bent at the waist and turned his body to the side. He dipped his head between Ruby’s inner thighs, and without hesitation, rapidly flicked his pointed tongue against her clit. Ruby cried out and grabbed a handful of his hair, moaning as he lapped her up. He didn’t abandon an inch of her—tongue venturing around, over, and inside of her—causing her to grind against his face. With a mouth full of pussy, he stared up at her, ego steadily growing with every squirm, every twitch of her brow and every bite of her lip. When he stuck his fingers back inside, she tightened her grip against his scalp and finally looked down at him. The sight of him looking up at her with darkened eyes made her own eyes close again, but he put space between his lips and her flesh. “Look at me when you come,” he said. A chill went down Ruby’s spine and she looked down into Kylo’s eyes. He inserted a third finger and massaged her walls as he sucked and ravaged her clit. Suddenly, he felt her contracting over his fingers. Her jaw dropped and a strained sound left her throat. Then, she let out an endless high-pitched moan and tried to pull away from his lips—but Kylo didn’t stop until his tongue absorbed the very last drop of her sweet cum. She fell backward and rested her head on the cupboard again—loud breaths filling the quiet of the kitchen. Barely giving her a minute, Kylo peeled her off the counter and tossed her over his shoulder—making her squeal as if she were on an amusement ride. He carried her to his bedroom and dropped her onto his bed. He pulled off her shoes, then pulled at the buttons of his vest. Ruby sat up, pulled her dress over her head, unclasped her bra, and tugged at the hook on her right garter. “Keep those on,” he said. He stared at her thighs and licked his lips.

Ruby moved her hand and fell back. She watched Kylo get completely naked. She barely got a good look at him before he was on top of her, planting kisses against her neck. He grabbed her right leg and pressed it back so that her knee was over her chest. Shortly after, she felt something warm and stiff rubbing against the outside of her core—it pressed into her, and the pressure sent a wave throughout her entire body. “Fuck…” they whimpered at the same time. Then, they chuckled. Kylo kissed her lips and inhaled her moans as he pushed more inches into her. He caught her grabbing the blanket in his peripheral, and slowly penetrated her until he couldn’t go any further. “You okay?” he asked. “Yes,” she strained to answer.

He grabbed her left hand and placed it over the meatiest part of his waist. Then, he dragged out of her, and drove back in. He held on to her right thigh, the leg still pushed back, and dipped in and out of her—fast enough to please, but slow enough for the both of them to feel their lover’s every twitch and pulse, and grip and stroke.

#when the sun sleeps in canto bight #chapter 6 coming thursday

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blue20152019-blog · 5 years

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Destini Ellison

Nightheart: His name is straight-forward. He was born during the deep hours (the ‘heart’) of a Mid-summer night.

Rin [pronounced Rynn]: Nightheart’s mother, BMYR adviser, combatant medic and surgeon. Once native to Apex Haven.

Ikem [Ike-come]: Nightheart’s father. BMYR co-founder and rebel fighter.

Arrow: BMYR’S leader. Infamously known as ‘Black Shepherd’ by their enemy, the B.C.I facility.

Dr. Kirasato: B.C. I’s Co-founder and Assistant director, Rin’s biological father, Nightheart’s grandfather. The latest enemy of Apex Haven; Once a minority native/resident of Apex Haven. Now a ‘Green-eyed Judas’ of the Apex Haven Novel Sequel.

Dr. Auveir [pronounced Ah-vair]: B.C.I double agent. Minority native to Apex Haven, Combatant Medic, scientist, and Leader of the Downfall Taskforce team sent from Apex Haven.

Doctor’s Tsubari and Julia: Friends to Auveir. Minority natives of Apex Haven.

Apex Haven- Prequel to [my] BMYR novel. A post-industrial & post-colonized, horticultural and hunter-gatherer hidden middle-earth/lost world consisting of (were)wolf-shifting 1st nation brown and Eurasian people and minority white foreigners…who surprisingly retain holdovers of modern health care instruments and knowledge.

Biological Bestowment: Nightheart. Pt. 1

In an orange flickering examination room, 8-year-old Nightheart wiggled desperately under the table’s restraints. While lying on the Supine position (backside down) with arm abduction, (table head part made with rotating arm rest and wrist straps) the leather straps were left with some wiggle space due to his grandfather’s hasty response to the orange-flickering room lights. The wrist, ankle, and waist belt made a soft, heavy, rubbing sound as the boy’s bare feet hit the grey-titled floor. *Thud* There was no ear-splitting alarm sound, just the peculiar flashes of hazard lights.

The emergency lights basked the room in an incandescent orange checkered flash. From the cracked room door, he saw little spotlights spin around like a spiral. Confused but very grateful for the doctor’s sudden absence, Nightheart quickly slipped on the foamy lab slippers, peep cautiously from the door’s crack opening, and bolted out into the empty corridor.

Metal rolling carts, storage closets, cabinets and drawers lined the glassy white walls as Nightheart’s paced-crept down toward the hallway’s opening. A rounded- spacing with 3 doors meet Nightheart’s eyes. The left door across was opened. Nightheart stiffened his posture then hunched down noticing the B.C.I staff congregating in it. Nightheart tightens his pale-stricken lips when he caught side-view of the cruel doctor amongst the black vested figures. The men hounded the surveillance room—watching with silent dread as their men were being slaughtered and pushed back by some BMYR rebels. The way the room was, had the adults facing about-face behind the jumbo tv screens. With a big breath, Nightheart proceeded to hug the wall and tip-toe towards the right closed door. Right as Nightheart reached the knob, he heard his mom’s distant radio voice from the surveillance room. Although a few yards from the room, he detected her muffled belligerent yelling. A flash of pained longing twisted his hurt-puppy dog eyes. Mommy’s really angry.

He never ever heard his mom sound like that. Wailing like an enraged banshee. While uncomfortable hearing this, he was slightly grateful to know help was rolling in. Unknowingly quiet viciously at that. When he turned the knob, a small ID scanner came from the wall panel.

“Um,” he whispered softly. Nightheart never seen an ID grid panel before, its outline glowed with square outlines and across the black plaster was finger print outliner. Cluelessly, he poked at the scree with his index finger. Orange brimmed across the square outline and ‘try again’ text appeared.

*BOOM*

The shock waves from an explosive medium rumbled beneath the boy’s feet. The previous orange lights above flashed red and an army of voices whirled around the surveillance room.

“Was that a grenade?!” “More like dynamite or a RD-Keg bomb!”

“Where did they get those things from?!”

“DAMN THOSE PUNKS! Guys, take some flash drive copies before using the exits!” Kirasato commanded. A frantic train on men pushed eachother through the doors and made their way towards the back of the lab’s spacious south-wing to various hidden exist. Nightheart hunched over to make him smaller while eying the frantic clads of white trying to find a way slip along with them without being grabbed at. When he thought there was opening, he paced forward as close as he could to the line before noticing a pair of black-panted legs turned toward him. Kirasato caught his grandson standing a few feet from him and tried moving forward to reached down to secure him, however, the herd of scientist pushed past him unceremoniously and indifferent to the child near them. Seizing the moment, Nightheart ran between the men, maneuvering left and right through the pillars of legs so he wouldn’t get pushed down or grabbed at.

“Get back here!” Dr. Kirasato commanded, glaring blindly ahead of him.

The man couldn’t reach him due to the wave of fellow scientist pacing by in hurried fashion to secret back-way exists. Now separated by a moving wall of lab-coats, tecs, and black-vested men, Nightheart stepped away backwards ignored; remembering the stores his parents told him about their presence. He wished his grandfather, no, that cruel madman, would flee with the other human cockroaches. Thankful to the adult’s indifference, the boy darted back to the room he was in. He hated the idea of going back there, but the room was divided up into compartments. A potential of comb hiding spots for him to duck and dive for. One of the divided areas was barren. No medical instruments anywhere. It was spare office-type room with a mini foyer.

An odd paneled floor rested in the middle towards the back wall. To Nightheart, it looked like a metallic door thatch or crawlspace doorway.

The sliding metallic sheets clicked under the boy’s feet. The thin line in the middle of the square title pulled apart. Black bangs flared up as the boy lost ground. The small fingers scrapped at the edge of the cookie-cutter floor. Nightheart’s Heterochromia eyes---the right hazelnut brown and left cool grey---mirrored his grandfather’s alarmed eyes. Before the light above vanished, Kirasato attempted to seize the boy’s hand or shirt collar, but the arm was a palm-length shy. Tumbling down the grey rocky concrete left the boy’s soft frame scrapped up in scratches and cuts, then the 5feet drop came to a cold, heavy end.

All was still in the underground lab. The furious commotion from the [1] B.C.I’S [1] Facility’s surface level had gone mute, the air stiller than the artificial ambiance that murmured from some hidden area. The only organic noise was the soft beating of 8-year-old’s Nightheart’s heart against the floor. The wooden floor boards and shingles---once part of Dr. Kirasato's passage to his hidden lab bunker--- lay broken and sprawled around the stunned child. Nightheart was on his stomach. His legs tucked, one arm stretched out under him, the other bent towards his chest. His t-shirt and khaki cargo shorts ripped and scuffed up from the rough, slide-in fall. His body stamped with scratches, cuts and skimmed knees and palms. Strands of his sable-black hair fell into his eyelids, tickling him awake. [2] Proprioception told him his limbs were intact and unbroken. He pushed himself up, then sat back on his legs. He couldn't hear his mom, Rin, nor his dad, Ikem, [I-come] and the other [3] BMYR teammates fight against the guards. He looked up from where he landed. A gray void stared down at him. Splintered planks from the void’s outline looked like angular fish teeth. How far did I fall? LED bulbs fixed into the steel-blue concrete ceiling were like mini spotlights in an overall shadow foyer-type opening.

The floor, a glassy blue plaster, was smooth and cold under his bare legs. While the boy was getting his surroundings in, the heavy *tap tap* of footsteps—heeled black boots---came towards him. Nightheart’s heart fluttered like butterfly wings as the silhouetted outline drew closer. Quiet. Predatory. Unbothered.

That doesn't look like dad or Arrow. He lifted himself up on wobbly knees. A sharp sensation spiraled in his right knee. Ouch! A ring of blood welled around the fleshy site.

“Mr. Auvier?” Nightheart’s voice peeped.

“Not the best of slides. Or falls. But don’t worry grandpa is here.” Dr. Kirasato cooed at the 8-year-old. Nightheart’s pupils dilated into pinpricks. Nightheart wanted nothing to do with the white-coated monster. Without hesitation, he turned to dart away from the man---the figure of unprovoked cruelty---whom had caused him physical and emotional distress since last year.

A year and a half prior, Nightheart was forced to go with his grandfather. He never knew he had a grandfather until that wretched day. His mother had never mentioned him for good reason. A BCI affiliation link, a lowman, from the [2]Pedestal Grounds leaked info to the [3]Skyline Plats. This led the doctor and B.C.I Trackers to intercept the escort task of delivering Nightheart to one BMYR safe zone post.

The escort was supposed to be a countermeasure against the recent swarm of BCI lowmen sweeping through Nalidago’s [Pronounced either Nal-lee-daw-go or Naw-lee-dah-go] Northwestern region. The BMYR Townhome base is situated in Nalidago’s Southwestern woodsy hill region. Nightheart had been worried when nobody came to the overnight hut; which was in route to the safe zone post. He had left the camouflage shack with his plushy jet-black stallion in his arms to search for the rebels; whom were swiftly neutralized and displaced with Kirasato’s involvement. The boy’s sheltered life and puppy-innocence led him to leave with the infamous BCI Co-director of the Bio black market organization. The name dropping of his mother erased all doubt he had. The easy talk. The smiles. The kindness. He had thought at the time he would be in good hands. Little did he know his backpack possessions his mother packed for him would be his centered, obsessive support in a week of hell. The “check-ups”, the nerve-wrecking body fluid extractions, and dubious vitamin supplements. All a vicious factor in a taboo ploy of tampering with a mysterious, dormant, matrilineal “lore” gene passed on from Apex Haven. The week in the facility had been a surreal slow burn, as spent his free-time curled into a fetal position either hiccupping or hyperventilating himself with his plush stallion to weary sleep during those bleak nights. After his 1st miraculous rescue—with his mother finding him first no less--used her herbal, medical and Medical Chi treatment plan to get her baby boy to recover from spontaneous intervals of intense fevers, muscle constrictions, and unbalanced stomach PH levels. The child didn't get far. In a minute the bastard scientist held him by the helm of his shirt collar.

“LET GO!” The boy flailed about like a mouse under cat claws. Why didn’t he leave with the others!? The boy thought. Dr. Kirasato ignored his demand, taking a moment to yawn and look the boy over.

“Does anything hurt?” Kirasato questioned. Nightheart was too preoccupied trying to free himself from the man’s grip. There was nothing to say to this cruel madman. Nightheart twisted around and managed to elbow the man’s thigh. The impact was weak and rolled off the doctor like a bouncy ball. Dr. Kirasato rolled his eyes indifferent. With the man's grip still on the child’s shirt collar, Kirasato sat on the floor with Nightheart’s back towards his torso and pinned him to floor with one knee over the child’s right side. Essentially, he was firmly, not roughly, half-kneeing on the panicked boy’s left side. To an outsider, this would look like unprofessional and criminal, child abuse almost. Almost. But not. As a former combatant medic, once trained in aggressive martial arts and defensive martial arts, manhandling and grabbling people for neutralization, restraining fussy or aggressive patients or emotionally unstable allies and friends during territorial or eco-political battles was an engrained holdover of his do-go active days as a Apex Haven Combat medic and homestay doctor.

He frowned with displeasure when he noticed Nightheart’s swollen right knee as the boy swung his legs back and forth.

“MOMMY!”

“Enough!” Kirasato snarled, catching the boy’s flustered attention. “Nightheart your parents are down here.”

“I’ll find them! You won’t keep me here you cold-madman!” Nightheart proclaimed, wiggling around his left side. Dr. Kirasato smirked for a moment at his grandson festiveness, then faltered.

To induce a clean 7LifeLine bestow he had to injury free. Tears rose on the horizon of his Heterochromatic eyes.

“GET OFF ME! MOMMY! SOMEONE! HELP ME!” Kirasato rolled his eyes.

The man had no shred of sympathy left. No moral agency. All he had was a logical, calculated mind and a goal to complete. The lab bunker would give some time to complete his goal and contain the brunt of any explosive-type device from penetrating this area. Kirasato was well aware Nightheart looked upon him like a monster. A living boogeyman to fear and hate at all cost. The scientist pressed down on the swollen, red tissue. This caused electrical twinges to race up and down Nightheart’s leg. A brown shard poked out of his bleeding hole like a wooden tapeworm.

“Ow! What’re you doing?!” The boy’s soft, puppy features bristled with indignation. Kirasato ignored him focusing on the callous-protrusion. Prodding the surrounding tissue made the bloody site pulsate in glassy waves. A stream of blood rolled down his knee and onto Kirasato’s lap. The child felt the blood tickle his flesh and saw it drip off. Anger swelled in Nightheart.

“STOP HURTING ME YOU STUPID MADMAN!” Nightheart’s right eye glaring into rectangular lenses. The white glare from the ceiling lights lenses from the man's glasses swayed into a different color. The scientist’s mossy green eyes became bioluminescent, activated by his irises enzymes as a thick, vaporous energy-wave materialized into existence from off his hands. Every skin cell on his hand opened, secreting a cool steam. His fingertips wafted like self-fueling, endothermic-kinetic heat wave. The energy steam's interior comprised of little stringy electric neurons webbing through the wave.

There’s some pus outside the patella with a lodged wooden splinter. It looks about 3 inches…the kid didn't even realize, its situated across the intramuscular nerve. Kirasato thought of the proper medicine to use, which triggered his spit enzymes to secrete an antibiotic ointment. The saliva watery and clear as it seeped down his chin. Nightheart stared in baffled disgust. A slight gape parted his mouth.

He’s slobbering on himself!? Nightheart thought visibly puzzled. The scientist raised an index finger to let the spit roll down it. The specialized spit rolled down like droplets off a car window.

This can’t be real!

Kirasato eyed the boy and Nightheart could tell he wanted to say something, but as he dawdled out a few seconds, as the orange code lights flashed again.

“Your face is raw with questions, fear, disgust. See this brown stub?” He tapped the tip of it making the boy wince.

A splinter? It shouldn't hurt this much its skinny and flat. Why does it hurt so much?

“Keep still if you want this painless.”

“Don’t mess with it!” Snapped Nightheart, balling his tiny fist.

“You prefer I cut off your leg?” Kirasato taunted. Nightheart’s hot anger flushed. His eyes widen with alarm.

“If I don’t take this out, your leg will become gangrenous, I’ll chop it off if that’s what you prefer.”

Nightheart stared in alarm. He wouldn't. He thought. As if to answer the boy’s unspoken question, Kirasato added.

“I would. I’m sure your poor mother would be horrified if you had to live with a stump for the rest of your life.” A snake-ish smile on the man’s still glowing eyes. Nightheart went into a 1,000-yard stare. This indirect cue got Kirasato to start. He cut the boy’s olive-beige skin, above the swollen site, and a few centimeters back from the tip. He achieved this by using his index finger-claw as a razor. Hot tears rose forth and hung out the corner of the boy’s eyes. He gritted his teeth and pressed his head into the floor. Nightheart needed comfort. He needed his mom. But strange enough, Nightheart was still. He lapsed into a near-despondent state. He thought that if he could go back to that happy place when he under distress, his mom would be by his side like she had been before. With the flesh split open a few centimeters from the protruding tip, the scientist dug his claw in, using it as a flat hook. The spit on his finger acted as antibiotic and killed off any germs from the splint. When the spit touched the tissue, it foamed up like peroxide. Shifting the splinter up like a lever, the scientist pulled it out with care. Under the white bulb’s light, the wood looked like a bloody sewing needle. Kirasato threw it away from them and poked his finger-claw in the former splinter’s site. It stung like hell for a moment then went numb. Watching the puss drain satisfied Kirasato, but grossed-out Nightheart. The scientist watched it ooze out and dry before putting a band-aid over the frail scar tissue. His lifted his weight off the boy’s torso. Nightheart took notice and raised his head.

“Was that so bad?” A fake, reassuring smile momentarily masked his face.

“YES! You stuck your spit-soaked finger needle in my knee!” Kirasato chuckled amused. Nightheart’s eyebrow raised. What is wrong this man?? “Not funny! I thought you were gonna take out my knee bone!” He pouted flexing his bandaged knee. Kirasato stood up, freeing his hold on Nightheart. Just that second of freedom was enough to get Nightheart’s blood churning again. The kid rolled left and jumped to his feet. As soon as his weight was on his legs Kirasato had his hand on his shirt collar again.

“Lively little scamp huh?” Kirasato said. Nightheart whirled around and pounded and scratched his fist on Kirasato’s forearm. It didn't hurt. Again, his blows rolled off like bouncy balls. But Nightheart was trying desperately to make the man loosen his grip. With one full sweep, Kirasato held Nightheart from under his armpits, then proceeded carrying him left into his private operation theater. At the start of this moment, all surface drama and fear from earlier dissipated like a fragrance in a sauna room. Nightheart’s heart tap danced on eggshells as the funk of dread hit like a tornado touching down. His body shivered violently. His memory of Kirasato's transgressions so vivid his palms became clammy with dew drops. His ability to protest gone mute in his throat, preventing any kind of audible words.

Inside the room rested a locked gurney with a sterilized, fitted sheet and mattress. A silver instrument cart was at the foot of the bed, and a cabinet hanging on the wall to the right of the gurney. The harsh light of the table's fixture added fuel Nightheart’s raging blood pressure. Nightheart fearfully tucked his legs back under his thighs. Dr. Kirasato briskly recounted all the procedural items needed. Moving the boy to his right arm, holding him like a suitcase, Kirasato turned on the oxygen tank.

NO NO NO NO NO! With newfound adrenalin, Nightheart thrashed his weight around in hysteria. Kicking his legs wildly before the bastard scientist could pin him to the cold white bed.

“Stop.” The doctor commanded while readjusting his hold on him.

“YOU STOP!” Don’t make me sick again! His Heterochromia eyes wide with tears.

“I’m not making you ‘sick’—again---I’m giving you a gift.” Nightheart didn’t hear his reasons. He did NOT forget what uncomfortable procedures that would have happen earlier if not for the lab alarm system telling him that help was on the way. Kirasato straighten his posture, letting Nightheart tire himself out. The man’s white-sleeved arms shake, he cursed under his breath for having to the restraints behind. The approaching, surreal procedure required no-obstructions to his torso, but at least he could tie down is ankles and IV arm. The adrenalin surge shifted into aggression.

On instinct Nightheart managed to chump down hard on Kirasato’s forearm. This stunt caught the man off-guard and flinched. He weakened his underarm hold just enough to let Nightheart awkwardly fall from his side. His feet hit the floor, and to hell with his protesting knee pain, he bolted out the rotating double doors and into the weird foyer-like area he was in before. Recovered from the bite, Kirasato ran after his grandson. Praising his good fortune for being a good runner, Nightheart easily put some feet behind his irritated grandfather. Nightheart was moving so fast that the surroundings’ storage items and other lab miscellaneous objects were a blur. In and out his figure bathed in the rapid succession of the white light flickering orange in their morass code. Kirasato had closed in minutes later, ready to grab the boy’s shirt collar again. But this is what Nightheart wanted, at the last moment and made sharp, rabbit-like turn to the right. Kirasato unceremoniously buckled and staggered his legs.

“What!?” Genuine surprise in his voice. The scientist clumsily crashed into some empty metal carts and stacks of various boxing materials. That delicate chance led Nightheart to flee into a less-lit area of the underground lab.

The floor went from cold, glassy blue to a titled white floor as he entered a dark corridor of the one office-lab wing. This section of the lab wasn't in use as dust and cobwebs collected on shelves and sharp corners of the floor. There was a room filled with storage cabinets situated in a ‘L’ shape. situated between a tall filing cabinet and metal table. Nightheart crawled though and scuttled into the cold, bumpy, maw until he bonked his forehead against its abrupt end. He turned around and flattened himself against the cabinet's back wall. He panted like a tired puppy. The length was no more than 2 feet long and just big enough for him to turn and scrunch his limbs to his chest. Nightheart wiped tears away from his fear-stricken face and whined softly to himself.

Why did this happen again? Why does he like hurting me? I never did anything to him!” Nightheart’s whines turned into stifled sobs Why aren't they here yet? What’s taking so long? Did they get captured by the Bleach-coats too? Did…. they kill my family…. Oh god don’t tell me I’m alone now. At the possibility of this idea, more tears salted his young face, his wavy-sable-black hair hung over his creased eyebrows. He cried for a few minutes in the oppressive title-patterned area. Then a gut feeling stirred within his despairing resignation. It was a warm and springy feeling that rose up his chest like smoke fire. It was inexplicable to Nightheart, but he realized that what he thought was false. Someone will find this place and rescue him. This momentary comfort dashed away when he heard the same footsteps near.

Kirasato sniffed at his bite mark. Nightheart managed to tear through the doubled sleeved arm and red indents stared back at him. He admitted to himself that it smarted a little and wasn't expecting that kind of response from adorable, puppy-like Nightheart. Kirasato stopped and looked around. It was achingly still around him and somewhere off into the front opening, orange lights flickered off and on again. He then heard sniffles coming from the old cabinet counters and smirked. He had a feeling the boy would try to hide himself in floor cabinets. The counters above them were ‘L’ shaped rows and the white cabinets coated with dust and darkness. *Tap tap* Kirasato’s footsteps came to the middle of the room. He had to flush him out carefully. Otherwise the boy could slip away into the little storage room and hide himself under junk or behind discarded packing boxes.

I’m scared, I’m scared, I’m scared Nightheart buried his chin into his arm. Kirasato titled his head attentively, as if he could pinpoint an aura of dread from one of the sliding cabinets. His eyes creepy orbs of mossy-mist. He turned to lean against the smooth counter-top. The man face’s looked reflective but had nothing intimate to reminisce over. What Kirasato barter for, in exchange for global scientific fame of introducing---exploiting---the enigmatic, Apex Haven Canis lupus CRISPR bloodright, had ironically became an underground operation for a scientific dystopian dynasty. Ever since Kirasato disbanded from Apex Haven, breaching the continent’s foundation laws and personal ethics, he unwittingly trashed any chances for him to return to his former life. This applies both physically and mentally. When he breached the secret entrance for the second and final time, with kidnapped Haven youths and the Impers descendants, (‘em-pure’, short for Imperialist), the physiological deterioration of “Estranged Amnesia” was activated in his brain’s hippocampus. Within a month his both Semantic & retrospective memory gone through a white-slate re-wiring

“Grandson I’m very sorry for hurting you. I know you don’t care why I upset you, but I don’t like hurting you for fun because I’m a cruel madman.” His tone soft and dry. “You have every right to hate me, fear me, for what I've done to you. Your mom has the right to hate me with all the hellfire and try killing me with espionage attacks. But there are things she doesn't know, things that aren't the whole truth neither me nor her. My curiosity led me to replicate this surreal phenomenon and I want nothing more than to give this gift to you, little one. But I need one last “check-up” done then I’ll let you go…” The under lab was quiet. Tension wavering off the two souls in a stale mate. Nightheart had his fist clenched in effort to quail his terror. “I promise it won’t hurt, quite the opposite actually,” he added with a soft tone scrapping his finger-claws against the cabinet doors. Nightheart stilled his breath. Nightheart’s ears hone-in to the soft scraping sound coming from his left. Pupils dilated. Kirasato opened one cabinet. The one that was close to the door threshold.

“It’ll be scary but fruitful, I know it will. The gift works in theory as well as in clinical application. The gift is indefinite and you’ll love it when you get older.” He opened the second cabinet and third. Nightheart was in the 5th sliding cabinet out of 10 total and he heard the doors close and open. His palms sweating his pulse throbbed again. “Nightheart, mommy is just on the top floor. I know where she’s at, but she’ll never find you down here. You don’t want her to stress, do you? The longer we stay down here the sadder she gets. You don’t like seeing your mommy crying right, you hate when she cries right?” Kirasato hit a nerve. An intimate one.

Nightheart flashback to that day, last year, when his mother barged in the pathetic excuse for a nursery room. Rounded eyes of agony meet his dull and weary ones. He’d never seen such an expression on her strong and warm persona. So much heartache and regret blurred into one physical mess. The warmth from her chest and the fiery pulse in her neck was the 1st stimulant he recognized on that day of salvation. He weakly nuzzled his face into her embrace to let her know he was conscious and waited for her. The pangs---impulses of desperation and yearning crept itself to his fear-hate mindset. One last test to end off pain, right? A dry whimper rolled off his throat. Kirasato picked up on the slight noise and centered both hands on the 5th cabinet.

“Come Nightheart.” The door to his cabinet started to swing open. Nightheart braced himself. He bucked his legs forward and jabbed Kirasato’s fingers in the process. “Yow!”

Kirasato recoiled and Nightheart bolted out. His feet thrummed heavily against the title floor as he rounded the corridor. Kirasato’s anger bubbled up and in a mad sprint he snatched Nightheart’s up with his finger-claws. The tips of his claws pierced the boy’s flesh. He yelped out which made Kirasato realize what he was doing. The man didn't say sorry, instead he gingerly brushed the little red spots away and took a heavy, disappointed sigh and hoisted the poor boy up.

In moments they were back in the room. Nightheart was hyperventilating. Screwing his eye tight to blind himself from an unknown cruelty. His distress blatant but ignored by Kirasato as he was thrown unto the gurney and had his limbs fasten to the 4-point restraints. Kirasato shook off his loose lab coat, then removed his white shirt. Surgical pen marks were retained by non-smear covering wrap he ripped from his torso.

Yes, each sharpie outline mimicked the outline of his internal organs like a fleshy complete puzzle board. Kirasato’s focus was in the moment, the rehearsed steps and equations he memorized hundreds of time prior. The IV line was ready, a full mixed bag of hydrating fluids and general pain-receptor inhibitors. On the metal cart placed at the foot of the bed was a (euthanization) syringe and its vial contents (liquid propofol), a scalpel, a white timer, and defibrillators with defib gel lined up in a neat row.

Not bothering with numbing cream or a cold swab, the doctor gingerly inserted the IV into Nightheart’s right arm bend and adjusted the bag’s liquid contents. The prick was sharp and cold in his vein but executed flawlessly by his versed grandfather. Nightheart’s face was crinkled like balled up paper. Kirasato plucked the single syringe and filled it with the vial’s contents. He held the syringe up and peered down at Nightheart whose face braced with defeated fear. With his right hand, Kirasato palmed the right side of Nightheart’s head, turning his head left, exposing his soft, goose-bump riddled neck. Specifically, the right external jugular vein. Nightheart gasps reeked in dread, sniffles ratting the cold and calculated atmosphere. The child waited for the soul-sucking pain. The misery. The nauseous effects of the medicine to make his stomach lurch and flop about like a fish on land. Strange enough, none of what he anticipated came to fruition. The sensation on the neck site glazed over like frostbite. It had light-weighted, hypotension sensation which iced over his entire body in a rippling fashion. To the child’s relief it was the opposite, then the relief turned into regret for believing for a second his bastard grandfather’s words. Indescribable numbness and drowsiness kayaked throughout each major systems of his body until it penetrated his circulatory system. Dr. Kirasato had placed the expelled syringe in the edge of the gurney.

What is this feeling? What is it? I hear the ocean waves singing me to sleep. It… It feels like I’m being carried by sea waves. Like that…like that brave baby jellyfish in my picture book mom read to me. Slowly, with lead curtains closing in on him, Nightheart turned his head straight to look at the ceiling. With bleary vision and anchored-weighted eyelids, he thought about his nursery room’s ceiling. His playroom was dotted with glow in the dark stars, wall banners of mosaic blankets, a glass moonroof, and all 4 walls painted with abstract shapes and spirals of color. Nightheart thought about his time frolicking through the townhouses’ inclined fields throughout the seasons; kicking up daffodils in spring, chasing and catching orange and neon green fireflies during summer evenings and picking pastel flowers from flower bushes to give to his mom or put into ponds like lily pads. He thought about the nights he had cream popsicles or honey biscuits for dessert as a reward for eating his veggies. He thought about the times his mom reading him stories to put him to sleep, held him close when he had a bad dream or when thundery nights spooked him. The boy wanted to think happy thoughts until the end, however the underlining moment of this reality made his heart ache under the loneliness of death, the absence of his mother and father, and the drowning weight of the euthanasia effects. Kirasato loomed over him, keen attention in his mossy- green gaze. Kirasato had his Medical Chi-glowing hand over the boy’s chest. Apex Haveners of the medical type, with this manifested biological power, could detect the speed, rhythm and electric current of a patient heart. (Basically, an organic Cardiac Monitor) The steady beat gradually became fainter. Erratic. slower as he entered a cardiac crash. Kirasato rolled up his t-shirt to rest over the span of the boy’s collar bones. His thoughts were the pillars that stood strong even against his shutting down body. Kirasato reached to the foot of the bed for the little white timer. He placed it to his left and had his index finger on the red start button.

Next, he grabbed the scalpel and encased it with his Chi as well. Young, stress-filled Heterochromatic eyes diluted into blank euphoria---the right, a bright brown hazelnut iris, dulled, and the left grey irises tuned into a pale storm. Nightheart’s mouth hung slightly ajar. In an instant Kirasato pushed the ‘start’ button on the timer. He had it pre-set to 5 minutes and the numbers counted down. Simultaneously as he pushed the button with one hand the other that held the scalpel plunged into his ink-marked chest. Kirasato made a 4 in incision over his Superior Vena Cava. It was a double-vision-y like an agonizing sensation as the downward flow immediately caused the doctor’s bright blood well up and flow down his upper chest region. However, due to his self-healing somatic cells and hypercreative pain-blocking receptors on overdrive from directly absorbing his Medical-Chi, Kirasato didn’t pass out or experience any of brunt of symptoms that come with major blood lose. Blood did flow from his lips like someone indulging on fresh, gooey honey. The red and foggy-green scalpel was then plunged into Nightheart’s Superior Vena Cava also. Bright red blood pooled up and spilt onto the table and across his neck like syrup. Dr. Kirasato used his Minds’ Eye to monitor the internal procession.

1 minute 20 seconds…..No response to exterior stimuli. Clinical death in process.

1 minute 45 seconds…Oxygen withheld from the brain has ceased it reserve circulation.

2 minutes 14 seconds……Pigment flushed from the boy’s face, leaving a post-mortem appearance.

2minutes 22 seconds…..Half of the Medical Chi absorption and circulation is complete. Sign of involuntary electrical impulses are visibly.

2 minutes 48 seconds….lungs and heart functions are being electrically recharge with chemical and hormonal activity. Receiving oxygen stimulant.

3 minutes…Vital organs are taking their time to chemically ingest the Medical Chi. The brain has oxygen again.

3 minutes 15 seconds. The chest compressors are used twice. Eye reflexes have returned but are slow and uncoordinated. The pale blue light that glimmered from his emotionless pupils, mouth, ears, and nostrils retreat inside. His mouth is twitching as his healthy skin color came back. Self-sustaining respiration is dominant and automatic over his organs, albeit slow and deep soundless breaths coaxes the body out of clinical death. With that done, Kirasato pressed ‘stop’ on the timer. He kneeled over the side of the bed. His self-inflicted cut to his chest was healing on the cellular level, but the blood clotting had turned the single red gush into a steady and drying iron flow.

There was a slit, a puncture slash mark in Nightheart’s chest as it started self-healing from the inside out, pushing out exposed blood, damaged tissue and skin and became covered with a fragile, red scarring tissue. Although sealed the bizarre, biological anomaly will be sensitive to rigorous movement.

BANG!

A bullet with a 4-inch nail encased in its shell struck Kirasato in his right collar bone. He staggers back, utterly surprised. Speechless and visibly vulnerable. A quaternary group of young adults--- Nightheart’s mother in the lead harboring a belligerent and blood-thirsty scowl, greets her off-guarded, uncollected father---and angry voices stampede into the room as just as Nightheart’s eyes glisten with life. The boy couldn’t hear what the BMYR rebels nor what his mother were shouting. Let alone see what was going on even when Rin loomed over his limp frame.

“NIGHT, MOMMY’S HERE! YOU’RE SAFE SWEETIE.” What Nightheart saw as a blurry visage with fuzzy green eyes burn its pained-stricken holes though his foggy focus. His vision hadn’t stabilized yet. Rin’s fern-green eyes were glistening saucers as he hurriedly undid the limb restraints and slid off the IV line. Rin’s words were submerged in water to Nightheart’s understanding as he remained despondent. With a rehearsed eye, she realized spotted the problem and immediately started CPR. Nightheart’s body and gurney shook in urgency under her firm compressions. But, blind to her desperation, and unknown to her knowledge, she was hurting him with this extra respiration boost.

“C’mon baby boy, C’mon baby boy I’m right here! Sweetie, Mommy’s right here! Tell me what he did to you?” Her voice demanding but acheful at once. Her fern-green irises glowed with Medical Chi and she critically studied his chest cavity with her hyper-specialized eyes. Rin noticed the fragile scar tissue but had to apply force over it because it was the quickest way, medically speaking, to his heart. Nightheart felt the wound become hot and the blood on his skin become thin. He wanted to say to ‘I’m okay mommy! You’re hurting me.” His dull pupils bore into hers, yet his mother’s detailed-orientated eye was just as blinding as his foggy vision. But his body was in an odd sensation off numbness and paralysis.

Dr. Auveir, an ally to the BMYR and double-spy of the B.C.I, subdued Kirasato the moment Arrow’s bullet had stunned and disorientated the green-eyed judas of Apex Haven. The two combat medics scuffled for a moment before Kirasato succumbed to his already weaken state despite his chest wound now healed over in scar tissue. Arrow, the BMYR leader and Ikem, Nightheart’s father, joined in on the short-lived beat down. Arrow stopped but Ikem’s vengeance had just peaked. Ikem was savoring the high blows to the bastard’s skull and shoulder blades and back as Auvier had wrestled him to the floor a few seconds earlier and bound his hands behind his back, belly-down.

“Rin he’s alive! Stop CPR.” Dr. Auvier’s hand on her shoulder. Nightheart recognized the good doctor’s voice and whined with joy internally. Mr. Auvier, you’re here…is my dad with you?

“No! He’s not breathing steadily!” She snapped blinking away tear drops. Auvier tried coaxing her backwards with both hands on her shoulders.

“Rin stop! Lis-“

“He has stress-induced asthma (S.I.A) also!” She barked clinging her palms to her son’s pale chest under her. Dr. Auvier grasped her biceps and pulled her further from the table.

“Let go!” She angrily began twisting herself away.

“Why are you stopping her!?” Ikem demanded pacing over to Dr. Auvier and grabbing his shoulder with a tight grip. Behind the three rescuers, Arrow’s notorious ‘feral glare’ perked up with accusation at their ‘ally’s’ weird stunt whilst aiming his hand-held gun at Kirasato’s right temple.

“Stop already! You’ll hurt him! Leave your child be!” He pleaded desperately.

“Nightheart has been given the 7lifeline condition, he WILL be fine I swear!” Auvier had turned her around to calm her and meet her wild, pain-stricken eyes. Nightheart’s mother was about to horse-kick the man’s knees inward but he anticipated something like this and stretched his legs away. Dr. Auvier then quickly notice something to get Rin to calm herself. “Rin! Look, look…” He urged calmly Auvier used one hand to emit his Medical Chi and touched Nightheart’s forehead. It was risky to do so because Rin, like her leader Arrow, hadn’t fully accepted Dr. Auvier or his team into their lives, for all the good doctor knows, she could’ve used a pressure point attack or strike at him like she did those BCI guards on the top level of the facility; but, it was worth it.

As if answered by God or some high power, Nightheart’s chest took big, smooth gulps of air before starting his coughing fits to ventilate his dry, parched throat. The child's pupil’s reflected pearls of pale blue light which dissipated from visibly view and settled within Nightheart’s Central neurological system. Auvier did a quick peripheral finger test and Nightheart followed the finger with late/delayed but coordinated glances. Witnessing his deliberate responsiveness, Rin placed a hand on her son’s right cheek.

“Don’t heal him, okay?” Auvier commanded softly. His Amber-brown eyes gentle behind the clear-eyed lenses of his Biopunk Grey Wolf mask. “I promise nothing will go wrong.” He patted her back to soothe her.

Rin moved slow as she lifted her son up from the gurney, cradling him in her blood-stained arms from the earlier lab infiltration fight. She slumped to the floor crisscrossed and placed him on her lap. She rested her chin over his soft but disheveled, wavy black hair and closed her eyes. She felt the strength of his neck pulse with one, soft hand as she counted the beats silently. Nightheart couldn’t image all the mental anguish his mom was going through.

Oh my boy, my sweetheart, you’re safe now….I’m so sorry baby boy, it’s my fault…The mash of relief and sorrow was as palatable as it was pungent being in the midst of his mom’s embrace.

It’s okay mommy. I’m here, I see you, but can’t move. Nightheart tried talking but his vocal apparatus wasn’t ready for an emotional spill out of pain and terror relived and untold. The boy just began blinking his eyes to re-stabilize his visual senses and coordination……

Now that it was silent in the room, long enough for the feverish tension to simmer, Dr. Auvier turned back to Kirasato---a bitter sight for vengeful eyes--- had look of good grief and silent satisfaction at his biggest, elusive experiment—on his kin--- successful.

“Kirasato…,” Auvier tone low and heavy before rising. “What. The. ACTUAL HELL where you thinking?! Auvier’s hands trembled under his heavy fist. The knuckle bones highlighted by the room’s white light. Auvier loomed over him. Posture tight and stern expression practically glowing from his slanted eyes.

“It was the greatest gift I could give. I wish my dear daughter---!”

Ikem’s arms tighten again and he appropriately gave a downward hit over Kirasato’s skull. Making the scientist bash his chin and bite his tongue.

“You have NO right to call her your DAUGHTER!” Ikem snarled with wide-eyed rage.

Rin heard her wretched father but didn’t respond. The young woman was still visibly distressed and confused at the man’s response.

Dr. Auvier threw his head up and pursed his lips in an ‘o’ shape. A loud, short, whistle that reverberated from under his mask and traveled out the examination room. The way his head was cocked up and titled with his Biopunk Japanese Ookami (wolf) mask made him look like a metallic howling wolf. Tsubari and Julia, friends of Dr. Auvier, found their location minutes later, followed by BMYR teammates Ayame and Tawn.

“Do it.” Dr. Auvier commanded to Tsubari. Dr. Auvier signaled for Arrow to get away from Kirasato. The BMYR Leader went to kneel by Rin’s side sympathetically.

Tsubari pulled out a sedative and stuck Kirasato in his Outer Jugular Vein. Kirasato flinched at the roughness before succumbing to the sedative. Then Tsubari and Julia hoisted him and took him dragged him away while Dr. Auvier focused back on Rin.

“Rin, may I look at him? Please?” His soft stare bore into her irises. She straightens her posture, revealing an unresponsive Nightheart. But mentally, the boy was alert. His dull gaze strained to focus on the good doctor’s face. He was looking slightly much better than the minutes before. Yet he was still under a partial, paralyzing dextral function movement, much liked Locked-In syndrome. Auvier raised his back and closed his eyes. Then with one breath, spoke fluently.

“Nightheart has been bestowed an Apex Haven condition. It’s called the7 Lifelines condition. In our land it’s both a supernatural and biological phenomenon that can be quite literary bestowed, given, through two ways. ‘Natural’ inductions or by Scientific induction. The Scientific induction involves euthanization.” He gestured to where the used syringe was along with the defibrillator paddles. “For the condition to work through this method, he had to be humanely killed and brought back by the 7LL carrier’s Medical, or Life Chi that is emitted and produced on the somatic (*organ and skin cells not involved with gamete formation or production*) cellular level. Since the procedure was done properly, your son now has ‘short-term’, or in scientific terminology Biological immortality.” (*Biological Immortality is a real bio-phenomena*) Dr. Auvier finished.

END OF PART ONE

[1] B.C.I--Stands for BioClinical Innovations. The name of the underworld Black-market Bio facility. The organization has pharmaceutical façade in the industrial society called Skyline Platforms.

2 Proprioception-Perception or awareness of the position and movement of the body.

3 BMYR- Group of ex-B.C.I test subjects, who engage in cat and mouse guerrilla warfare against the organization that abducted them from their home Apex Haven 10 years ago.

[2] Pedestal Grounds/Lands: The naturalistic outskirts of the Skyrise plats. They are like elaborate and extensive Underpasses to the Skyline Plats in the BMYR Universe. Composed of countryside’s, wildlife reserves, botanic gardens, clinics, Ports, Market Town-plazas, Flea markets, and ghost-towns. Some of the Pedestal Grounds are used as sanctioned off industrial waste dumping grounds, landfills, Ghost-towns and junkyards. The rest is huge spatial areas where true wildlands, flora, fauna, and air quality remain high and cleaner than the man-made urban nature constricts inside the Skyline Platforms. The ivy-vines, grape vines, thorns and saplings that wrap around the enormous pillars give the bases.

[3] Skyline Platforms (Plats): High-tech cities built upon expansive, steel, concrete and fiber glass foundation platforms above the common ground, renamed the Pedestal Grounds. Think of them as elaborate highway overpassing networks composed of residential, recreational, and sectioned cities. High-class services from top star to mediocre services. Metropolis city lines and suburban neighborhoods are compacted inside circular or rectangular zone. Designed in Architectural, giant stained-glass domes.

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nebula-starlight · 6 years

Text

Virus (Part 4 - Asylum)

Her eyes glowed bright green in the mirror’s reflection, despite her best efforts to will them back to the soft topaz they were supposed to be. Work was coming up and she couldn’t afford to call in sick again. She’d lose her job if she did that once more and she needed the money. Rent wasn’t cheap near the clinic after all.

The low gurgle of her stomach drew Narssia from her thoughts and she grimaced, lifting a shaky paw to her chest. Was it indigestion? She hadn’t exactly eaten anything this morning... having felt a bit off. Oh no.

She threw herself over the washbasin, heaving until her entire body ached. Well that settled the debate about work. There was no way she’d go in now. Letting a few strands of saliva drip from her jaws as she panted, a low glitchy chuckle echoed in her ears for a brief moment before vanishing.

Waiting a few more minutes to see if the feeling passed, she sighed and left the bathroom, using the tip of her tail to flip the switch that emptied the filled basin. She’d fill it back up with water later but not now, not with her head spinning. Why had she gotten sick? It made no sense... There was nothing she’d done that would have prompted such a reaction.

Retreating to her den, she picked a chair and curled up in it, staring blankly into the unused fireplace beside her. The feeling would pass, she was sure. If not...

Well she knew what do to.

Bright lights shone briefly in one of her eyes as Narssia slowly returned to consciousness, hearing the distorted, warbled sounds of far-away voices. When had she drifted off? Not that it mattered too much now when she just wanted to sleep. Why wouldn’t they leave her alone?

“She’s coming around. Give her room.”

She knew that voice, the one that broke through with an almost crystal clear quality. Chills ran along her back, terror flooding through her system as the long buried memories rammed into her waking consciousness. No, no, no! Why was it him?! That drake was the last individual she wanted to see now. She ran away from him. She... She’d fought hard to free herself from his web of lies.

But still those feelings remained... How hard claws smacked against her snout, tearing open skin as the pain only made her want to curl up in a ball and disappear. He always screamed at her, demanding she toughen up. The world wouldn’t accept a weak little shadow-breather even though she was trying her best to be brave.

Stop crying! Those black scales you’ve got only give others the impression there’s a cold, heartless monster underneath. You want that, don’t you? To feel strong... powerful even.

She trembled, straining herself to move, to run, to do anything! Still her wings remained limp behind her back and her limbs stayed shackled to the bed for protection. Not this Hell again. Anything but this. They couldn’t see the scars... The past attempts to get rid of that thing growing inside. But she couldn’t move and the routine nightmarish memories she struggled with were bad enough but to relive it...

No, she couldn’t go through that again. There had to be a way out before she started to spiral down into the darkness of her mind. She just had to think...

You’ll be cured in no time, my dear. All those silly little fears will be nothing more than wisps of fleeting thoughts. Soon there will only be the two of us. Together.

“Unusually high... brain activity, Doc. Should we... drug...?”

Her eyes flew open, panic clouding over any and all vision as the whitewash walls of the hospital sent her heart racing in her chest. No exams! She thrashed against the chains holding her down, screaming until her voice broke in repressed anger and fear. No proper drakes trying to fix her. She wasn’t broken! There was nothing... wrong with her.

It was all in her head. It had to be! No one deserved to see her like this. She wasn’t worth anyone’s time. Even the drake had finally spat those words in her face before she...

Oh Ancients! Don’t make her confess it. It was all an accident. He- He pushed her too far. No, no, no... her tail wasn’t covered in blood as the sounds of several pairs of clawed feet thundered up stairs outside his apartment. The noise of the brief struggle had been heard despite her best intent to silence him without a peep.

She confronted him. Marched right up and ripped out his heart, blood splattering over the expensive carpet of his flat as her tailtip dipped into the oozing crimson fluid dripping down his chest and then curled around his neck. Fixing one dark iris on him with a frustrated hiss, she snapped his neck at the same time she crushed the organ in her paw, relishing the satisfying squish it gave before she threw the ruined smear across the room to smack against the locked wooden door.

So many promises... He promised to treat her, cure her even. When that failed he said he loved her and wanted to toughen her up. Well he certainly did that... although likely not how he expected. Now that monster had left yet another mark on her soul, one she tried again and again to purge.

Poison hadn’t worked. Alcohol hadn’t worked - although it gave her an awful hangover the next day though. Every glance she dared to take at her scarred, swelling underbelly filled her with such self-loathing as the months passed. Oh she knew exactly why she’d gotten sick and why her energy was all but gone, there was nothing she wanted more than to rip it right out of her body. Who cared if she tried a dozen other ways to be rid of that hellspawn growing in her lower abdomen!

“Let me go!” She screeched, trying once more to move as flickers of tiny little green lights darted by the corners of her vision. “I’m not crazy, I swear. Don’t send me back there. Don’t... do that...”

Her jerky attempts at escape slowed before stopping, head rolling slightly to one side as a heavy sigh came from her left. A single, slightly stained claw brushed against the bottom of her jaw gently to check her pulse as the weary blue eyes of the doctor glanced over at the young male sitting down in the far corner of the room awaiting news. He was lucky someone had found her so quickly this time around judging by her extensive chart. Now she wasn’t out yet but they at least had her stabilized. Last thing anyone wanted was a half-crazy healer out on a vengeful warpath...

“Ease there girlie, you may not think so but we won’t hurt ya... Pretty lucky that you have attentive co-workers.” He looked up, spotting movement outside the small individual room in the clinic’s psych wing before continuing softly to the one who brought her in. “Poor ‘ness has had emotional problems for a long while. Last I spoke with her previous doctor they thought she was on the right medicine to even her out. Hmm, I wonder what caused a flare up this bad?”

The sound of the hospital room door opening seemed to take the doctor’s attention away for a moment. Stepping inside, the aged silver dragoness politely bowed before starting forward as the young orange drake excused himself and left to allow the two experts some time alone.

“The team I sent to her location of residence after she arrived found a note on her bed that was addressed by a Geer Stormbringer. Should we try to get in touch with him? Maybe he knows what set her off?”

The lead doctor hummed softly in thought as he lightly stroked the side of her snout to encourage her to fade on off to sleep. “That would be the best course of action right now, Silvia. We’ll keep her under for a bit until things can be sorted out.”

The night air was cool when she woke, blinking sleep from her eyes as she yawned. How long had she been out? Running her tongue along her teeth, she thought it was odd they felt moist as though she’d eaten something recently. Moving a forepaw, she felt the squish of something soft and slowly glanced down, finding her paw covered in blood. Beside her lay a half-eaten carcass, the shape draconian in nature. No...

She shuddered, the soft crackle of static buzzing in the background as she pushed herself back onto her hind legs, frantically trying to get her limbs under her so to run. Where was she? It wasn’t home if the wooded area was any indication. Was she losing her mind? Sure the thought had crossed her mind in the past to seek revenge but she wasn’t a violent creature. Drawing blood just wasn’t in her nature... at least she thought so.

Getting to her feet, she shakily stood, curious about the corpse as she crept closer. It was difficult to tell but she thought its scales were purple and its eyes... No, no, no, why?!

Those wide open gray eyes were ones she knew, expression fixed in a terrified scream. Geer’s past letters to her had mentioned a lovely little female healer by the name of Melvise if she was right... No, there was no connection linking the two, was there? How would she have even known what the dragoness looked like?

‘Someone’s not real fond of the monster they are, huh? Figures you good-for-nothings are all hypocrites. Hiding behind that perfect little facade...’

The soft chuckle of laughter caught her attention immediately, recognizing the voice somehow even though she was certain she’d never heard it before. Still she stood, glancing uneasily at the corpse before shying away from it.

“Who are you?”

‘Honestly, the static didn’t give it away? Sheesh, with how messed up your mind is it makes me look like a damn saint...’ The humor dropped from the mysterious voice, a chill running through the air as Narssia pressed her wings closer to her body. ‘Turns out I need to make my appearance known before I can fully possess you. Sucks for you then ‘cause I’m not the most... No, you know what? I’ll just show you what I mean.’

Her eyes went wide, fear crawling up along her spine as she shuffled backwards from the dead dragon. “Um, do I have a choice here? Cause I’d rather not.”

‘How cute. You think you have a say here... Such a pity I need you alive then. I was really looking forward to killing someone today.’

The ground suddenly went dark, eerie green lines of code appearing all around her and glowing as Narssia panicked and tried to fly away. All she managed to do was unfurl her wings before shadowy tendrils wrapped around her legs to pin her in place.

An amused chuckle was all she earned for her efforts. ‘Yeah, good try there but not real successful.’

The most awful sound split the air, reminding the healer of a screaming group of hatchlings as she saw the creature drop to the floor right in front of her. It was primarily skeletal, with a large gash further distorting its neck as the wyvern-like look had no wing structure other than the main permanent bone and thin claws that acted like her own foretalons. Two empty eye sockets blazed with bright green light and a large almost jewel-like gem sat in the top of its chest.

She hadn’t studied about the past ancestors of dragonkind for many years but was she looking at a fallen, a Shadowling some preferred to call them even? The appearance would fit what little she remembered...

‘You know what I am. Consider me impressed, for once,’ the glitch purred, voice humming with the soft crackle of static underneath. ‘My goal however is a bit more complex...’

“What... What happened to your body? I thought most fallen lost their forms but you....” Shock loosened her tongue, making her spit out whatever came to mind. Shaking her head to try and reign herself back in, Naris met the intense gaze of the spirit for a brief moment before shuddering in fear and looking away.

‘Repulsive, I know. Blame the one hanging with that drake you like. It’s not something I enjoy talking about.’ The creature crawled closer, using its wing-claws to move forward as Narssia was finally able to retreat, immediately backing away in fear. ‘And don’t deny your feelings for Geer. I’ve been in your head long enough to realize that much. Intriguing to think he could pull you free from all those chains wrapped tightly around your mind. Some shadow-breather indeed...’

The dragoness shuddered again, memories surfacing to remind her of all the reasons why being with Geer wouldn’t work. He didn’t deserve to deal with her brokenness on top of his own issues. Yes she was aware of his disability but found herself in awe at his dedication to his job. If only she was that brave...

‘Come now, you broke the dude’s neck and crushed his heart. Pretty impressive if you ask me.’

“I didn’t,” she hissed back, lifting a paw to her chest as her steps slowed. “I never meant to hurt anyone. What do you want with me anyway? Besides my body I imagine.”

The glitch snorted, eyes rolling in their empty sockets. ‘Body and mind, dearie. Can’t have one without the other - otherwise you’d be dead right now.’

“And if I refuse to let you in?”

‘Oh you know exactly what’ll happen. Those pretty little terrors trapped up in that head of yours want to play and who would I be if I didn’t push things along a bit.’ One skeletal wing rose, pointing directly at Narssia’s skull as the fallen snickered. ‘Choice is yours, missy.’

Well that wasn’t what she expected to hear. Actually no, she somehow knew that would be the response. Her uninvited guest didn’t seem like it played fair anyway.

With a sigh she stopped in her tracks, tail swishing around her hind legs. “Do you have a name?”

‘I did. Once. But you don’t deserve to know it.’ The spirit growled, body dissolving away into a glitchy black and green mist before it swirled around Narssia predatorily. ‘Neither did he for that matter. All talk of serving for the greater good and everything left ‘em with what? A stained core that started to crack long before he... No, I won’t say it.’

“You don’t have to say it. He slit your throat, right?” Narssia felt the mist glide over her back without giving a response, teasingly swirling over her horns in a manner that made her decidedly uneasy.

‘Why should I tell you anything about myself? Here I was denied my chance at having a family but you...‘ Invisible claws stroked her snout, digging into her skin as the glitch’s words turned bitter and malicious. ‘You are far too happy to destroy yourself, trying everything to purge the last reminders of that vile doctor from your body. Speaking of which, did you enjoy my little gift? It wasn’t difficult to fish up the memories of how he sounded. How each touch left your pretty little body aflame. Deny it all you want... but you envied him, didn’t you?’

Despite herself Narssia had leaned in towards the contact, too drained to properly realize what was going on. She craved touch but yet, held herself back so often out of fear she’d get hurt again. Was that why she’d fallen so quickly for him? Every nice compliment had soothed the burns scarring her fragile heart until she gave in and let him “help” her. It hadn’t been to her benefit at all...

“Go ahead,” she muttered, closing her eyes as the glitch slid over her shoulders. “Torture me all you want. I’m not important to anyone.”

‘Ooh, abandonment issues as well. How did I get so lucky?’ The soft chuckle filled the air as Narssia stood there in silence, awaiting the next horrible bout of night terrors that would surely come her way. ‘Fret not, my dear. Soon no one will be able to break you ever again. All you need to do is say three simple words and I’ll take the pain away.’

“Just let me drown in guilt...”

The green sparks within the mist crackled, shock prompting the next words from the glitch. ‘Come now... Don’t you want release? I can give you that and still keep those precious ones alive.’

Dark irises slowly slid open, half hidden by her eyelids. “Not what I want...” Her head lifted slightly, fixing one topaz eye on the pixelated cloud before she started forward with increasingly confident steps. There was a certain raspiness present in her voice, kept low but firm. “I decide when to fall apart on my own terms, Glitch. Pester me all you want. Break open every scarring memory if you desire and see where it gets you! I’m flawed, I know that, but I don’t need a constant reminder of the darkness that lies buried within.”

She glared at the spectre as they came nearly snout to energy cloud, her eyes filled with tears of her own self-hatred. “Never will you ever reduce me to a state where I beg for your kind of release. That isn’t freedom, it’s enslavement and I refuse to be a slave again. Now get out of my head before I make you.”

‘You really shouldn’t have said that... I would have been merciful otherwise but now, you’ll only have yourself to blame when you come crawling to me in defeat.’

The dark hiss she received as the glitch vanished in a burst of green sparks made Naris feel better about her decision, only to then wonder what hell would await her because of it. Had she just sentenced herself to torture unlike any she’d known before? The Shadowling had seemed almost frustrated that she would reject the new life that was growing inside of her but maybe she could use that to her advantage somehow...

She had to hold on! Maybe something would break her free before she succumbed to the darkness it offered. No matter what she couldn’t let that monster get the better of her.

Shadows swirled around her feet, the looming outline of the dead- no, corrupted wyvern trailing behind her as she started to walk, static softly crackling through the air in reminder of who’s domain she was really in. Just survive, Narssia repeated to herself with each shaky step she took. That’s all she could afford to do now...

#virus #virus/corrupt #tw: gore #tw:self harm #tw: blood

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anxiety-trademark · 3 years

Text

The week in review:

Raw 11/02 NXT 11/04 NXT UK 11/05 Smackdown 11/06

Raw:

Alexa just says, “he could be here,” then starts laughing. She’s like a walking red flag.

Love the difference in ‘play’ and ‘pain’, and I love how she’ll wave with either one depending on her intentions. Interesting to note that she’s left-handed, so every time she uses her right for ‘play’ it is absolutely a conscious decision.

Great editing to have Alexa disappear.

Randy’s got a hard life rn lmao.

Mandy and Dana’s gear looks fantastic.

Wow Lana is hella ballsy coming out there during their tag match.

Mandy Rose trying to use Octopus stretch? What an interesting world we live in.

I understand that Dana and Mandy might want the tag titles, I’m just not sure it’s wise to be fighting your future teammates ahead of SvS :/

Dana and Mandy do good team work, I just wish they’d work on the timing for their synchronized cartwheel + kick combo.

Pretty suplex, Shayna. Shayna’s probably the nicest most harmless bull you’ve ever seen. I become more and more of a fan every week.

Damn Mandy plays perfect defense but Shayna kicked out. Good teamwork though.

So Lana’s a face now because Nia and Shayna are assholes who have been tormenting her for like 7ish weeks? Do I have that right?

Oh sad, Lana accidentally screwed Dana and Mandy out of winning the titles. Ahhhh this is why Lana has no friends.

Lmfaooo. “What cuz [Lana’s] a little butthurt that I put her through a table?” “You put Lana through six tabl--” “I TOLD you NOT to say her name in my presence.” pffftt bye.

Weak finish to that promo. Hella rude to threaten to end someone’s career though, Nia. Hella rude.

I love Alexa’s enthusiasm when she’s the Firefly Funhouse version of herself.

Bro what the fuck. Christ these always have so much to digest.

I don’t... I don’t know what exactly her trick is... was that blood? Are we going for blood? That didn’t look like blood. It looked like melted fucking organs or something (or melted down candy/licorice/gelatin but let’s not get meta and ruin the fun)

I love the contacts. That’s an interesting look that I wish she’d carry on in her present day matches once she transforms into her evil, alternate self. Also noted that he used his ‘heal’ hand to turn her into the blood spitting, warped version... and I think it was the same last time, right? Was it his ‘heal’ hand last time? What does that mean in his eyes??

These are such a mindfuck ever since she joined his Funhouse. That’s not a complaint.

Why are they having Nia fight in 2 matches tonight? Why couldn’t they push this off a week?

First off, I really don’t like Lacey and Peyton together, and I’m actually quite fond of Lacey. She’s not the best worker, but she’s a fantastic entertainer, and that deserves much more respect than a random tag team with Peyton Royce.

Second, LOL at Shayna immediately clearing off the announce table. This is gonna be tragic and unfair. If I’m Lana, why the hell would I accept this match? Ego? WHAT EGO DOES LANA HAVE lol. This should be pointless in her eyes.

Lana your bravery isn’t gonna get you shit. Is Asuka gonna come out? Cuz that’s the only way you survive this.

Normally you won’t hear me cry about no selling like the dumbass iwc, but Lana did a pretty fucking high worked kick and should’ve nailed Nia in the side of the head/neck. Why wasn’t there a reaction to that? Lame. That should’ve stunned Nia at the very least. Made her flinch? Anything??

LMAO Nia just called her a pathetic piece of crap. Rolling.

Nia breaks up the pinfall attempt on Lana herself x2. Fantastic heel work. Don’t see that enough.

Peep the red marks on Lana’s back. Sad.

Fuck man, table number 7. That’s... that’s sad. Pretty bummed that NOBODY will come help her. 7 fucking times, whew.

Having a lot of the women appear multiple times tonight. Looking at how the Raw women’s division is being booked, I gotta say, SD is kinda over-bloated.

Oh cool I can actually see Alexa’s white tattoo on her shoulder blade in this lighting.

Nikki I’d advise you to not speak ill of the fiend. Also lesbireal, you iced her out the second you didn’t win the title against Bayley all those months ago.

Fucking LOVE those contacts why weren’t they a permanent part of her look as this version???

Highlight: Firefly Funhouse

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NXT:

Ahh I love Dakota and Raquel’s matching colors.

Tbf, Dakota is a stepping stone, she just SHOULDN’T be cuz she’s way too good for that.

Dakota is so fucking scrawny. I really hope she isn’t just deemed a jobber on the MR. She needs to keep that speed up or bulk up a little.

lolol you know what Ember, you fucked around and ate a ringpost. Serves you right.

Nice armbar, Dakota. Now sit up and lock in the dis-arm-her (she won’t)

Dakota’s leading this match, peeped that call.

Ember’s suicide dive is so vicious. Like a missile straight up impaling her opponent.

LOL Dakota dodged the second. Again serves you right, the double suicide dive is Seth’s move.

Damn Dakota fucking NAILED her with that kick upside the head. You seeing stars Ember? Cuz you should be seeing stars. That was NOT a thigh slapper, that had an audible pop.

Yeahhh Dakota is absolutely the face in this match and you cannot tell me different. Ember’s arrogance is infuriating. Girl legit failed on the MR and she comes down there with an ego (in kf) tf outta here.

Love how people in nxt are constantly trying to use the Bank Statement but it NEVER looks as good as Sasha’s. Take a hint.

Love how Dakota utilizes these arm bars, that’s so random to me, has she always used submissions? Probably.

Why are we showing Ember dramatically hulk up like I care?

“This is Ember’s law” WHAT IS EMBER’S LAW FFS

HAHA atta girl Dakota, atta girl. That’s the homie, good for you. Fuck Ember’s law.

Shotzi PLEASE I could actually like you if you didn’t make me want to punch my 27″ monitor every time you fucking howled.

Also why you’d ever choose to face Toni over Rhea is beyond me but whatever.

This is not a whole new Toni Storm. You’re the friggin same. Ember has changed more than you and she didn’t even have a heel turn.

And why is the term ‘stepping stone’ being shoved down my throat this week?

Interesting that Io has chosen to tie things up with Rhea, but that’s to be expected. See now, if I was wwe, I would’ve called up Rhea immediately after this title match took place, but I already know that doesn’t happen.

Odd that they never show footage of Charlotte when they play back clips of In Your House. Triple h really that salty that she beat Rhea? Fuck man, Rhea needed that loss. Did her good.

Io: “I’m not afraid of Nightmare” I liked that.

“2020 has been complete trash,” what a babyface line by Rhea tbh.

Rhea idk when you’ll get to hold the gold again, but it’s not gonna be anytime soon. Your best hope is that you’ll win the Royal Rumble. Your second best hope is that they’ll move you to Raw and at some point in 2021, you can potentially make the Raw women’s championship meaningful again... what with it being devalued to hell since Becky left. Your realistic hope says maybe you can hold it by the time SummerSlam 2022 rolls around.

oof Shotzi’s big mad lmao. At least we skipped her lengthy entrance and that stupid howl.

Ohhhh nooooo Shotzi botched a vault like 20 seconds in. Oh man that wasn’t even just ugly, she fucking wiped out. Yikes. Yikes. Go back to the pc hun, practice that a couple dozen times more, cuz that’s the type of shit that’s gonna keep you down in nxt.

“you gotta wonder where [Shotzi’s] mind is” sure... sure...

Oh the tank’s a nod to her cousin in the military, interesting.

That cannonball was way too high anyway, Shotzi. You were never gonna make impact with that.

Holy shit Shotzi looks sloppy as fuck tonight. Usually it’s her ring work that I compliment, but good lord. Out here looking like the low card.

“Shotzi Blackheart just has not been herself so far in this one,” no this is practically a carry.

Yikes these restholds. Awful match. Do a Storm Zero and call it a night.

Christ and Shotzi fumbles on Toni’s Northern Lights Suplex. Mk.

“This match has certainly lived up to the hype” wow then y’all have LOW expectations.

No she didn’t get all of the ddt, and she could’ve ended her damn career with a dumb move like that for some throwaway tv match. Holy shit she’s such an extreme indie performer.

WOW so we sit through this long ass dreadful fuck up of a match, do a potential career ending move, then the ref just... stops counting cuz ???? and Candice pops up on screen just to get Shotzi’s attention. Hello? WHAT IS THIS TRAINWRECK. Negative 8 points to Shotzi and Candice (just because I don’t like Candice) and plus 3 to Toni for having to deal with this bullshit on her second match in nxt.

Dumb. Toni should’ve been counted out, and she should’ve been allowed to hit Shotzi with a finisher. Dumb.

lmao fuck that tank. I don’t even like Candice, either. gg. Plus 2 points.

I thought Toni was a heel? Lame. Negative 2 points for continuity.

If Xia says the letters from her family are personal, then they’re personal. Leave her the fuck alone, tmz.

Xia vs Raquel?? Lol good luck man.

Highlight: Dakota vs Ember

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NXT UK:

Ah a squash match for Jinny, mk.

This girl looks ridiculous.

Nice impact on the Irish Whip into the corner.

Lol no selling Jinny’s stomps, ooookay.

Jinny has this aggressive wrestling style, but I feel like Bayley could toss her around lmao.

Someone give me a dollar every time Jinny calls her ‘stupid’ so I can buy a new car.

Kay so this James girl is hella athletic, that’s nice.

Rolling lightning kick? That’s your finish?? A recklessly blind heel kick while somersaulting??? Alllright, anyway.

lol plz, you’re no queen.

Ah yes a match I have ZERO interest in: Piper vs Jinny. Give KLR a squash match, I’m bored.

SPEAKING OF MY UK QUEEN

Jeeze look at KLR’s arms. Whew.

She’s so much more entertaining than the rest of the division, holy hell.

LOL KLR. Look at her sell that fear. What a fucking performer, goodbye. All the points to KLR.

Piper, KLR’s hair is way too fucking gorgeous for you to be pulling her around by it. The blatant disrespect. And you dare touch her title? Rude. RUDE.

Highlight: KLR existing

---

Smackdown:

Great video package but I have to highlight the way Sasha just sat there against the ropes staring at Bayley for what, 2 minutes? Before even acknowledging she had won the title. That was fantastic.

What’s funny is I watched their hiac match live cuz I wasn’t sure Sasha would actually win, but I never bothered with this one, because I KNEW Sasha’s curse had been broken. I knew it’d be against Bayley that she’d retain her title for the first time.

kekekek Bayley’s so fucking obnoxious.

Beautiful opening sequences. Not often can people do that particular sequence with Sasha, I think I’ve only seen Becky do it on the MR (could be mistaken)

Nice baseball slide while pulling Bayley’s ankle off the apron. Smooth af.

Jeeesus Bayley launched Sasha into the air just for Sasha to smack the apron and crash hard on the floor. Points to everyone.

Bayley playing gassed as if she’s actually tired, when we all know this girl’s stamina is aces above the rest.

Beautiful elbow drop to Bayley as she’s hanging off the apron.

Bayley sort of no sells the backstabber and goes for a messy Bayley to belly as Sasha counters into her Bank Statement. The idea for that sequence was there, the execution was not.

Oh shit Bayley hit her with the Eddie Guerrero swerve that didn’t pan out, and then popped a backstabber on her. Lmao nice.

Sasha kicks out of a Bayley to belly and flying elbow. Guess we’re showcasing her resilience as a champion. Solid.

Bayley’s so fucking fast. I love watching her wrestle when she’s not spending all of her time on the defense, holy shit.

Lmao now Bayley has her in the Bank Statement. Nobody does it like Sasha though, and there’s why.

Great match, great match. Real treat. Le curse is finally broken.

Peeped Sasha kicked her in the face on the apron, just as Bayley did when she turned on her. Nice storytelling. I enjoyed the in ring stuff with these 2, but holy shit I’m glad this feud’s over.

Man oh man do I hate Mella’s lipstick lol. I do, however, like her as Sasha’s first opponent.

Nattie: “I shouldn’t have been put in that triple threat match,” Also Nattie: “I think we should do a triple threat match,” Is ‘crazy cat lady’ ALWAYS going to be Nattie’s gimmick?

I really hate seeing other women besides Charlotte wearing Gucci, and I know that’s fucking insane but it is what it is.

This should’ve been on the show, wtf wwe.

Do the commentators not know what’s fucking happening lol?

The speed of this is as if they were told they have 3 mins, make everyone shine.

Just watched a match where Charlotte hit a Natural Selection on Nattie while Nattie had the Sharpshooter applied to someone, and she bumped it perfectly. Why that Running Bulldog looked atrocious, I’ll never know.

Should’ve given me the video explaining why this match is happening. Did Sasha and Bayley go over time? Dumb that this was so rushed.

hahaha Nattie got fucked out of 2 svs team qualifying matches in a row. That’s hilarious.

Highlight: Bayley vs Sasha

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*Raw shined the brightest as a whole, but Bayley vs Sasha was the star segment of the week.

#wwe #issa review #feel free to ignore these #cuz who tf cares lesbihonest #today's props goes to:#bayley #sasha banks

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bpd-black · 7 years

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hey guys, so this is gonna be a long ass post, but here’s the tldr version: i love you and i hope you continue to learn about yourselves, and advocate for your mental wellbeing cause y'all are literally so beautiful and important and an integral part of our universe, the world literally wouldn’t be the same without you ✊🏾💕

SO, i just wanted to let y'all know that if you’ve ever messaged me (and this is for my black followers, btw, the rest of y'all … i don’t know why tf you’re here, but none of this is for you so ✌🏾bye, you can leave lol) please please know that i almost always read whatever’s in my inbox right away, and that i do care about your questions and what you have to say, even when i don’t answer right away or at all. you guys reaching out to me is NEVER bothersome. NEVER dumb. NEVER ridiculous. and tbh, it’s always flattering to think anyone would come to me w/ mental health concerns, considering that this blog literally started as a place for me to just vent out into the void & that i used to block anyone that followed me, lol.

(i jus didn’t want people to follow my blog ??? idk, i just felt like i had no other outlet to scream, and i was in a really bad place back then, idek, it made sense at the time. anyway, NOW this blog is a place for me to store information, affirmations and links to resources that i find informative or helpful. and i actually really love getting feedback (cough and validation cough) from you guys 💖 so pls, just know that you mean a lot to me.)

THE THING IS, though: i’m still not a professional. and when it comes to something as serious as mental health (especially in the black community) i just feel like i still have too much learning to do and too much healing to do before i’m qualified to offer any real advice. rn, all i have to say to most of y'all is ‘damn, thas unfortunate, me too’ and i really don’t want to give anyone a half assed answer like that, lol. it might take me a while to research what you wanna know, so yeah. bls be patient with me.

also i kinda wanted to introduce myself, since i don’t think i’ve ever posted an intro on this blog lol:

in summary, i’m a twenty one year old black girl, gay as hell, still living at home, still unemployed, still on leave from college, and still struggling just to shower and get out of bed every day :)) which sucks and i hate my life rn and i battle with like, intense self hatred cause a lot of my family is very disappointed in me and, quite frankly, i’m very disappointed with myself.

moving on, lol, more about my mental state: i’ve only ever been professionally diagnosed with depression and gad, though i personally believe i experience too many bpd symptoms to rule out the possibility that i am, in fact, borderline, and so i consider myself as such.

(( a small rant about that real quick: imo, and tbh, labels are just terms that researchers make up to help organize studies, keep track of patterns, and come up with plans and solutions to help large groups of people. so, basically, i am a strong advocate of NOT beating yourself up too much when it comes to finding the ‘right’ label for you and NOT attacking someone else that you don’t think ‘fits’ the description for a disorder or illness according to your research. like, yeah, fake ass neurotypicals are annoying as hell and they can all choke but ! the only person who really knows what’s going on in someone’s brain is that person themselves. and NO ONE owes you a dissertation on their mental struggles just to ‘prove’ they’re in pain. so, imo !!! it’s just a lot more important to recognize and identify what SYMPTOMS you struggle with, and the severity of said symptoms, and worry about umbrella terms later !! cause that insight will make it easier to look for help and advice and !! mental illness and personality disorders are all on a spectrum. so yeah. go easy on yourselves 💕 anyway, i struggled a lot with that concept, and for far too long, SO just wanted to get that out of the way before i continue (hope that made any sense) but i digress!!! ))

i also struggle with both intrusive and suicidal thoughts, a few minor self destructive habits, and i’m currently taking medication for my depression and anxiety. and tbh, though i still have some pretty terrible days, i will say the meds have helped a LOT. and i’m so glad, cause i’m the first in my family to openly take medication for a mental illness (stigma stigma god fucking stigma) and i was so so scared the meds would just make it worse, but they didn’t, so yeah :)

also, and this is a bit personal (but i’m willing to be a bit vulnerable with you guys, if it’ll help anyone at all) but, i planned on killing myself last year. it didn’t happen (evidently lol) but i ended up staying at the hospital for a week and then participating in a two week partial program after that. i’m currently looking for a new partial program or support group that i can join, and i’m trying to get a job and get back to school.

also, i have been seeing a therapist since my senior year of high school (which !!is a bit of a wild tale tbh, but long story short, my parents literally refused to believe mental illness was a real thing for the longest time. and it wasn’t until i told them i literally wouldn’t graduate high school if i didn’t get some help that they believed me.) my first two therapists were awful racist white women (still fuckin hate them btw) but my third therapist was a really cool white woman who actually introduced me to my current therapist who is this really amazing black woman and so far, i feel like she’s been the best fit for me. but i’ve very recently had to put my therapy sessions on pause cause i’m poor as hell and couldn’t pay for them anymore, so yeah. and, tbh, that’s really been stressing me the fuck out as of late, but what i’m trying to do is make the most of whatever other resources are available to me (helplines, textlines, self care strategies, forums, blogs, google, etc.) and i still have a social worker so idk, i should be okay 👌🏾

anyway, that was a lot of oversharing but, now you all know where i am atm ;) and i only share this with you guys cause a lot of asks i receive are about feeling like shit for not knowing what pd you have, or about being too poor to afford good health care, or not knowing how to convince your conservative ass black parents that you’re dying and need help and like !!! all of those topics are so so important to me on a very personal level !!! and i wanna help y'all so bad. but tbqh, i’m still trying to figure this shit out myself 😕 so, what i’m hoping is, just by letting you know more about my experience and being as honest as i can about it, at least one of you readin this might feel a little less lonely dealing with your pain. idk.

anyway, second to last thing: fr tho, i hope y'all know that it is both a rare, and amazing trait to be as insightful as so many of you are. even just trying to figure out ‘god, what is wrong with me’ and taking the time to do the research, is self care. it’s defiance. it’s acknowledging that a better life is possible, and it’s straight up refusing to settle for the pain you’re in now, for a life less fulfilling than what you know you deserve. i feel like the generations before us didn’t do that enough (with good reason, tbh, even today it’s still hard to know who we can trust) but it’s high time black people start healing our minds and our hearts. so power to you ✊🏾

and yeah. that’s all i wanted to say this morning. i’ve been wanting to say all that for a while, but wasn’t sure where the hell to start. i just hope that was all coherent and made sense, lol. don’t ever hesitate to message me guys. i may be an emotional wreck that takes too long to reply, but i do love you. lol.

and please please please continue to research things on your own as well, like. keep up with the latest studies, the TED talks, the blavity articles, the mental health blogs etc. etc. learn as much as you can about how to take the best care of you, even if my executively dysfunctional ass can’t help right away lol.

also !! (last thing, i promise) a quick update about this blog: i edited it a bit, namely my tagging system, to make it a bit more useful. i won’t go through all my tags here (maybe i’ll add an about page and a tag page later) but, for example, there’s my new affirmations tag (full of helpful reminders that i like to think about everyday) my positivity tag (just, yk, positive shit that makes think positive thoughts) and my black tag (whatever content i feel like pertains to just my fellow black + mentally ill peeps, cause lbr a lot of our struggles only happen at the intersection of both identities) 💕

i also have a music tag for music recommendations!! cause i like to believe music is very healing all on its own ;)

AAAAND that’s it lol 😘 stay safe out there guys !! this world is wild but, tbh, we know better than anyone what it means to make the very most out of our lives no matter what. happy black history month 🖤

#bpdblack.txt #ask #about me #blackness is ethereal #recovery #medication #self dx #hospitalization #bpd

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thehonorablejudgewhitey · 7 years

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“With Liberty and Justice for All”

(copious amounts of profanity ahead)

After the initial shock left me numb, then angry, then depressed, the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach took over and, funny enough, for a long time I was pissed off not because of what happened, but because it was allowed to happen. I wasn’t even furious with the key players anymore because they’re...well, real life versions of one dimensional characters, they did what they were supposed to do, what they would always do, what everyone knew for a fact they would do. I was mad at The People. The American People. Not at the - we’ll never really know how many - millions which were racist, misogynist, xenophobic, hateful and downright stupid enough to feel that donald was worth a genuine vote, but at the vast majority whom, between Clinton, 3rd party candidates, write -ins (and assorted silliness) didn’t vote for donald. Why was I so mad at these - mainly sane - folks? Because a majority let itself be ruled by a minority with, until recently, barely a peep in protest. Very few people took the fight as seriously as it needed to be taken and where we are today is a result of that.

Had this been a normal, fair election...it would be one thing, but it’s been clear since the start that things were far from an even remotely legitimate deal. The U.S. had bad Presidents before, it also had dumbass Presidents before, look at Bush Jr. who was as sharp as that kid in your nephew’s class who eats all the crayons; Jr., funny enough, found himself down in votes as well, but still “won”. However, and despite that - let’s call it - coincidental similarity, donald is frighteningly different from W. He’s not only ignorant and illiterate, he’s something Bush wasn’t: a vicious sociopath. donald isn’t just unbelievably stupid (and so very proud of his stupidity), he’s not just a loud clown, he is a fucking deranged monster and if you think I’m exaggerating, you haven’t researched him thoroughly enough because his track record will scare the shit out of anyone. The dude truly is criminally insane.

Now, donald supporters will argue till they’re blue in the face that non donald voters are sore losers, “libtards”, “snowflakes” and whatever else colorful little adjectives the not too bright amuse themselves with in order to have something with which to (try to) annoy others and thus, not having to confront their own stupidity. However, recently we’ve learned that not only has the corruption and treason which lead us to this situation been reliably and extensively documented, but also that American intelligence agencies had the information for months...and sat on it. The connections between donald’s minions and the shadiest shit imaginable has been established, foreign intelligence services have been frantically waving their arms in the air, begging US intelligence to, for fuck’s sake, look at their findings regarding very blatant treason...and yet, YET...here we are. Now the public knows all about it and the backlash has been until recently, pretty damn weak. Thankfully the public’s fighting morale picked up in a big way with the women's march, but it’s still a long way from effective. Plus the march was very rightfully so focused on specific topics, but what’s needed is an all out blitz of opposition and protest. For every - single - thing.

A lot contributed to donald’s - LOL - “victory”:

1) partisanship within the agencies (here’s looking at you, Comey)

2) the Russian meddling (through blackmail, money, influence, disinformation, paid trolls, and other endless etc’s)

3) vote tampering (took a shitload of lawyers and some serious bribe showers to keep that one on the low...seriously, look into it and your jaw will drop like an anvil on a road runner cartoon...but apparently, we’ll just ignore outright mathematical impossibilities and documented bribery because that’s the world we live in now)

4) voter suppression, critical in areas with large black communities because the overwhelming majority of black voters weren’t here for this fuckery - especially women, go Ladies, making us proud as always!

5) useless 3rd party voting despite the many, maaaaaaaany warnings not to engage in it because it was so DAMN clear what was gonna go down and people still did it cause stupid reasons no one cares about; how are you enjoying that skinny ass high horse now, fuckers???

6) the utterly shitty job by American news organizations who sucked donald’s lil dick dry for months in the name of ratings and which now are shocked, shocked I tell you!!! that the motherfucker turned on them...who could have possibly seen that one coming,unbelievable!!! And still, STILL they haven’t learned from it, they’re still airing donald’s mental diarrhea verbatim all - the - time, calling racist and xenophobic shit “controversial” and having lap dogs like Crack Barbie Conway talking about goddamn “alternative facts” on national television with a straight face!

7) the impotent and pathetic opposition put up by democrats, I mean seriously folks...some democrats voted in favor of donald’s cabinet members; have you learned nothing from 8 years of republican fuckery? Oppose ALL the things! If it wasn’t for Maxine Waters “fuck you AND this shit” attitude, Tim Kaine’s “I just think it’s funny how...” brand of shade and a few other good folks in there, we could just throw the whole damn party in the trash

8) republicans having been WHIPPED by donald’s cheap reality star popularity which was - sadly - more than enough to outshine the zodiac killer and whoever else they had lying around. Republicans had to drop to their knees for donald and, in exchange, they can pull off a U.S. fire sale like they’ve been aiming for for 8 years now. Make no mistake, there isn’t a terrorist organization in the world which can hold a candle to the American republican party, their business is death and destruction for profit and they excel at it

9) the “slow moving right wing coup” (Maher called it, just before the election), the almost decade long crusade of misinformation and public manipulation through garbage like fox news and breibart through puppets like hannity and kelly. donald’s fake shot at the Presidency would have been impossible without the massive groundwork that came long before he was even considered to be viable enough for this

10) the fact that a lot of folks adored donald’s catchy tune of hate and racism. trump voters didn’t vote for him despite this, they voted because his message was music to their ears. How an uncharismatic, orange, shar-pei looking motherfucker managed to establish a cult of personality would actually be impressive if it wasn’t terrifying.There’s no real “economic angst”, there was no “reaction against the status quo”, nobody wanted to drain no damn “swamp”, the “he tells it like it is” excuse is just that...everything which was used to justify donald’s popularity is utter BULLSHIT. donald got votes because a black Man was President, because women had valid sexual and reproductive health rights, because the LGBT community got basic rights recognized, because Islamophobia is a reality, because black folks were asking not to get killed for sitting and reading a book, or ringing a doorbell asking for help, or buying skittles

and of course, 11) the fact that trump made it totally cool to just go right for any pussy you fancy at any time, i.e. normalized sexual assault. If that doesn’t scream about the rampant engulfment of society in rape culture, I don’t know what does.

Yes, a lot helped donald get to where he is today, but the problem isn’t that this stuff happened, it’s that it was allowed to happen, the beginning of the shitstorm. It’s not like the asshole totally changed his tune overnight; everyone knew he was a risk and still, it was constantly underestimated. Just a few days ago the U.S. was forced to go with a 100% illegitimate President, one planted by a foreign power, under blackmail from that same power, with an estimated 1.5 billion (that’s billion with a B) dollars in debt, making him one of the brokest motherfuckers in the world (and oh boy, is he robbing the Presidency blind already...between selling access to himself and facilitating businesses abroad...), supported by the terrorist hate group formally known as kkk and every filthy, inferior white supremacist around, with a cabinet filled with incompetent, batshit insane, corrupt picks who’ll be responsible for everything from your tax dollars to nuclear weapons - fucking TERRIFYING - and who’s sole job is to burn it to the motherfucking ground and piss on the ash and oh yeah, let’s not ever stop talking about donald’s sex abuse history which includes confessed predatory behavior, strolling through teens changing rooms and rape accusations from minors to his ex wife. You really can’t expect much from a guy who once said “Is it wrong to be more sexually attracted to your own daughter than your wife?”; she was 13 at the time.

So while the rest of the world had been pulling its hair and collectively asking: “What, in the absolute name of FUCK is going on and why is it allowed to continue!?”, most people had been showing indignation...on Twitter, being extremely angry...at home. It took some pretty dark reality checks to shake folks up. The thought of 22 (now some sources say 30+) million Americans losing healthcare brought a few thousand people out, just a few thousands out of 71 million who voted for a different candidate. For months now I and many others have been begging anyone who’ll listen to go out, go beyond the fallacy of sticking solely to hashtag activism and actually act! Before the women’s march injected some much needed life into people, I was met with everything from sheer indifference to a sense of total hopelessness (useless sentiment), but the worst thing so far, the one that really angered me to the fucking core, was the sickeningly common sentence “we can’t do anything about it”. Buying into the fact that you’re powerless, failing to understand that people run the government and not the other way around is the most successful form of oppression ever deployed and let me tell you, there’s nowhere else on earth where it has been applied more successfully than in the US. Politicians running wild knowing there’s 0 accountability for their actions is what motivated the batshit insane last few weeks in which republicans have released a kind of greatest hits of nefarious fuckery which include the sentencing of millions to death or bankruptcy (or both) without health insurance, getting rid of what little oversight they have (though that was over with? Check again...), and paying the bill for donald’s dumbass wall which may be the most ridiculous, useless thing ever made...this kind of distancing between politicians an accountability is why crisis like Flint drag out for years with no resolution - or even interest for a resolution.

It really is a damn tragedy the situation has been allowed to run out of control, so now it’s time to get a handle on the lunacy. Before American women (actually, women everywhere) brought it, a few weeks back, LA and NY showed up early with marches of about 10 thousand people each, the most meaningful actions pre-post-inauguration; some folks burned a couple of trash cans in Portland (and conservatives have been crying out that “the cities are burning!!!” ever since, failing to mention, of course, that rioters are mainly paid elements to create this kind of disruption so people like donald can bitch about it later; see also Washington DC a few days ago) and that’s about it really...So what have we learned? Massive protests, shutting down streets, cities...it’s the only way to go. There needs to be a continuity to the kind of spirit which propelled the women's match. Politicians will never admit it, but they’re terrified of people in large numbers, they may despise voters but they also need them. So this “inauguration”, these disastrous first days, a ridiculous circus which would have been deemed too stupid to be featured in the cheapest of French farces can either mark the end of The American People’s chance to act or the start of a proper, comprehensive uprising. If you were waiting for the inauguration to then push for an impeachment...that won’t fly here, it’s too late for any of the regular democratic processes. Election was illegitimate, electoral college voted illegitimately...relying on this kind of stuff is dead and buried. Keep hearing folks talk about 2020, elections...bless their hearts...even if by some miracle we reach that date, do y'all really think there will ever, EVER be anything remotely close to a free election ever again? With these corrupt fucks in power? Nah, that ship has sailed. donald getting “elected” was what’s called a proof of concept and now, like a cancer, his so called administration will infect every nook and cranny of government, making it impossible to remove. Best case scenario, some key players get kicked out and there’s a chance to start repairing the damage, but the root is firmly planted and there will be massive problems for many years to come because donald and his posse got this far. Plus, external influence is and will continue to be massively powerful; Russia has republicans tightly grabbed by the balls which means all their decisions aren't really their own and that the US is now a satellite state. Cold War era communists would piss themselves in excitement like puppies if they had ever even dared to dream that such a thing could be possible. And the kicker is, the U.S. wasn’t even the main act, it was just a beta test. France and Germany are coming up next, efforts to end NATO and the EU are well on their way and in Europe, stupid people are falling for the same kind of “populism” (aka very poorly disguised racism and xenophobia and other assorted far right ideological diarrhea) that stupid people in America fell for when sprayed by golden boy himself. My faint hope is that a large enough number of Europeans will wake up in time. So far I remain disappointed. Twice now in fairly recent times Europe fucked itself up; soon it will be on its way to a third go. “Those who don’t understand history...” etc.

So here we are, 2017 and worried about world wars, nuclear wars, a Russian empire, nazis and the end of democracy. Ain't that a bitch? The real kicker tho, the part that made me so very pissed off at the reasonable, logic people out there is that the whole thing was so, so, SO very fucking avoidable...we got complacent and lost focus on how vicious the fight was and how vicious we had to be to win it. I love FLOTUS44 to no end but the motto should have been “when they go low, we get a motherfucking club and crack their head open cause they’re already in a convenient position to get bashed and we gotta take these fuckers out, pronto” - not as catchy, but it was the right attitude. To show just how soft and out of touch people have become, this week there’s been a debate about if punching a nazi is wrong. I shit you not! “If” it’s wrong...smh. And even if throwing hands isn’t your thing, all anyone ever really had to do was show up. Right at the start, show up, provide the numbers for “strength in numbers”, be a body in a crowd. Wasn’t hard, wasn’t costly, didn’t need a great deal of planning...call up a couple of friends who in turn call up 2 or 3 more and just...showing up and demanding the most basic legitimacy needed for an election, demanding that a line was drawn between free speech and hate speech, demanding that something as vile as donald and pence and bannon and kushner and flynn and every other piece of shit in the gang wasn’t allowed anywhere near a Presidential election. People knew what was at stake, people saw the democratic processes fail.

Like I said, the key players are predictable, they don’t break character; you know for a fact what they’ll do: donald will always be a sociopathic old perv and act like such; republicans will always be money hungry, moralless whores (and I use that word for the actions themselves, I mean no disrespect to hardworking, honest prostitutes who don’t deserve to be compared to something as disgusting as republicans); white supremacists will always be inferior whiny bitches; and the people who support all these aberrations will always be too fundamentally dense, too goddamn stupid to understand the seven ways till Sunday in which they’re getting fucked while cheering for the ones pounding their ass. But the people who know better, the people who’ve seen this ridiculous charade since the start for what it is and got lost in pointless shit like in house fighting (who had the best candidate cause of reasons) or simply didn’t lift a finger in any serious and meaningful way to try and stop it...they’re ones responsible for the mess being in play. It’s pretty simple: you see a toddler with a gun, you don’t wait till it shoots itself in the damn face, you take the gun away.

So where will we be a little while from now if things don’t change dramatically? Well let me put on my Carnac The Magnificent hat on (a lil something for the kids to Google, take their mind of this whole “we’re all probably gonna die horrible deaths” dealio): Our buddy Vladimir, finding out this shit actually works (whaaaaaat? Long shot win!), will try and succeed with the same model in other countries, Europe will be at war again, a short one because Russia will steamroll resistance as it takes over.NOT looking forward to that. The US will be carved like a thanksgiving turkey; first, the complete demolition of the Obama legacy because, you know, memories of a black Man in office for 8 years won’t do, gotta bulldoze that shit like, yesterday! Remind “the blacks” (as donald says) of their place, make aberrations of the LGBTs again, and fuck this environment shit cause who needs clean air and water when there’s fucking oil to drill, goddamn it!!! However, it won’t be just a gutting of government and liberties and rights, but also of territory. California will be the first to exit, also with - very indirect and covert - Russian backing, NY will follow. Texas will probably join in cause...well, it’s Texas, it’s just itching to shoot at something. The rest of the territory will be as miserable as any third world country. Sadly I won’t get the pleasure of shouting “MAGA!” and laughing my ass off in the face of every single Trump voter while they starve or die from most banal diseases in the book. A true shame. Russia will continue to fund terrorism like it does with ISIS, as well as planning/carrying out terrorist attacks whenever it suits their strategic interests (see Berlin, last Christmas), with donald being ISIS’ greatest poster child for recruitment while his buildings will make for great targets. Convenience! Oh and let’s not forget that in a pre-butchered US, Republicans will still need a war, so expect one. Republicans will also need 9/11 levels of terror, so expect a 2.0 version of that as well.

All of this of course if donald’s alarming mental decay doesn’t throw a wild card in the mix and he just decides: “fuck it, I’ll nuke everything” cause someone sent him a mean tweet. #Sad. And even if by some other wild card donald were to get impeach over prostitutes pissing on him or whatever the fuck else the shithead got recorded doing, the problem would still be the same: compromised government, completely invalid election, proven concept for aspiring global dictator, and resounding triumph of white Amerikkka’s “values”. The only way to do something which means a damn is to go out in force, quickly.

In a week marked by reporters get yelled at, at the White House, over crowd size “alternative facts”, a week in which we find donald had the inauguration pictures photoshoped to make his hands look bigger (what a fucking LOSER. That dick must really be in the micro category, I swear), a week in which the president elect goes nuts with executive orders to, out of pure spite, demolish the Obama legacy (donald is so insanely jealous of 44 that it clouds whatever shred of reason that pea brain of his can still muster) while simultaneously rambling about a blatant lie of millions of illegals voting while people in his goddamn entourage are actually guilty of voter fraud, a miserable week which saw government put a gag order on agencies divulging scientific facts, making them create “rogue” twitter accounts, an alarming week with revelations that staff and golden showers himself use all kinds of unprotected email services, the same thing which haunted Clinton forever without a shred of substance to it and that now, apparently, is totally cool, a sad week in which the megalomaniac embarrassment moved forward with orders to keep women in children stranded in war zones...is a week in which everyone should be planning exactly how seriously they want to contribute to the containment of this situation. personally, I suggest very and as soon as possible.

[This take on things is my own. Will not try to impose it nor debate it]

#the resistance #impeach trump #dump trump #illegitimate #illegitimate POTUS #PEEOTUS #ban trump #resist #resistence #Fuck Donald Trump #dumptrump #impeachtrump

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