#gas yourself up 2021

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

The Invisible String Theory

PAIRING: König x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: You didn't expect the man who gave you his coat to be the same one to bust down the door where you and the other women slept - sniper hood scaring everyone within an inch of their life. You didn't expect him to become so important to you, either. (Based on König's in-game backstory).

WORDCOUNT: 9.2k

WARNINGS: Human trafficking, mentions of unwanted touching, trauma, blood, gore, guns, bullets, protective!König, soft!König, nightmares, mentions of bullying, etc.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

'DATE: 25, NOVEMBER, 2021

LOCATION: BERLIN, GERMANY

TIME OF EVENT: 0230

MISSION REPORT: PENDING….'

You don’t remember much from the day that could be called out of the ordinary. Ever since you’d been moved here with the other girls, everything was predictable down to the time the men would come over, to the point where the screams had to be muffled by pillows. 

Never in your life did you think you’d be part of the nearly fifty million people stuck in this situation, and neither did you think you’d be the one in one hundred who got out. But before you can think about November twenty-fifth and those pale gray eyes, you have to go back to the beginning. To Al-Qatala. 

You hadn’t been with this cell initially—you’d been moved around and bartered off more times than you could count; the initial founder of your predicament was long gone at this point. North and South America, Europe, Africa, Asia, and Oceania…you’d been practically everywhere and on every continent barring the obvious last. In Europe, you couldn’t name the countries, but you knew this for a fact: you’d never been to Germany before. 

They had you with five other women in a large SUV in the beginning, this international ring of human traffickers. You had watched from the window, face blank and eyes unblinking, at the men who met near the docks. They had brought you in through Hamburg, first—not only the largest seaport in Germany but the third largest in Europe; you think you read that on a flier at some point. One of those flimsy ones that you find in gas stations with bright lettering to attract the tourists with their interesting facts. 

You wished you were only a tourist. 

You’d watched the men shake hands, and that was when you knew your fate, as well as that of the five other women, was sealed. You were going to all be here for a long time. 

This Al-Qatala cell was ruthless, but you supposed with being around terrorists, ruthlessness was better than being executed. 

For days you’d be exploited with the false promises of moments of freedom, breaks, food, and water. For some of the women it was drugs or money, but when your stomach was empty and your eyes blurring from lack of sleep, even addictions seemed to pale for brief hours. But above it all was the threat of death at every corner. These men would kill you. 

It was only a matter of time unless you could give them what they wanted. 

You yourself had developed a system, and it was probably the only reason you were still alive. Pick one of the handlers, gain his favor, and pray that he treats you specially while you keep up the act of a mindless, weak, woman. 

Ivon was the man’s name this time around. Born and raised here in Berlin before the clutches of his fanatical ideations brought him to Al-Qatala. You hated him.

Hated his touch—hated his scent and how he talked; every bit of him was corrupted like a black dog at a crossroads, always leading people down the wrong path. Your only saving grace was that he was stupid. The other girls called you Cat—said you managed to nuzzle up to someone and soon after got them to give you what you wanted. Everything you wanted except freedom, that was.

You didn’t deny that Ivon did give you privileges, but that was the point. About a week into your stay in Berlin, he allowed you to go into public with him. Arm-candy.

A doll. 

The townhouse you’d been stuck in had disappeared into a spec behind the rearview mirror, the chilled air from outside making you shiver at the lack of heat and the thin shawl you’d been thrown. No jacket. 

The care of your health only extended to how well you were able to work—at the moment you were relatively healthy despite the bulge of bruises and constantly shell-shocked look behind your eyes.

But the trip—the trip. You supposed that was when it had fully started, and you didn’t even realize it before you saw those gray eyes again. 

“Come,” Ivon orders, holding tightly to your arm and dragging you along from the corner shop without making a scene. Your hands loosely brush the wrack of clothes, fabric soft under your fingertips as it sways. 

Fixing your shawl, you try to burrow your neck into it, gaining what little heat is available to you. It was cold out—you were shivering. People send looks, eyes tight as they shift up and down your form, but no one ever says anything. To be this bold, this cell had to have been at this for a long, long time. The realization didn’t make you feel any better. 

That was when you first saw him. 

You were standing outside a coffee shop, quivering like a newly hatched butterfly, Ivon making a call only a few feet away with fast motions of his arms. It was hard not to make a run for it right then and there; hard not to take those few seconds of open air and dash away—start screaming and yelling until the authorities came. 

It would save yourself, but what about the others? They wouldn’t be so fortunate, you’d be sentencing them to death. None of this was simple—it needed to be thought out. Two games of chess being played at the same time.

The irony of it was that König had been off-duty that day. It had been a shot in the dark. 

“Are you alright?” A thick Austrian accent makes you flinch as it appears beside your right ear, grating.

Your eyes snap to the side, moving one foot back as you blink wildly up at the blue-gray orbs that would become a staple. You liked to call it as everyone else did—the invisible string theory. A theory that stated that the universe connected people who were destined to meet one day. Through thick or thin waters, it was inevitable. He was inevitable. 

“Yes,” you say quickly, holding your hands tightly around you. The man ahead of you was tall, almost startlingly so, with muscles more bulky than a boulder and his buzz-cut head open to the chilled breeze. He wore a surgical mask over his lower visage, his hoodie under the thick material of a canvas jacket. “Yes,” you say again, hearing Ivon’s voice behind you still on the phone. “I’m fine, thank you.”

Gray eyes furrow slightly, gaze darting over your head. 

“Are you…sure, Ma’am?” 

“Thank you for your concern,” you fake laugh, eyes pained, backing up farther. That invisible string snaps into place, pulling tight at only those few simple words. 

His stature made you slightly nervous—large, intimidating; those hands could do quite the damage if given the chance. Your eyes had hit and bounced off the identity discs at his chest with little thought, too preoccupied to notice the fact that he was in the Service.

König’s eyes had narrowed softly, dark brows minutely moving in.

Ivon hangs up his phone. 

“Can I help you?” He asks, coming up and sliding a hand around your waist. The man had stared at him for a long minute, and you had felt Ivon tense slowly at the unblinking eye contact. 

This stranger had commented in German a long string of frim words, hands going to his jacket and grabbing at the arms—he slips out of it while still uttering. 

Before you can react, the large coat swallows you whole and you snatch at the heat that’s still inside instinctually, now only realizing how much you were shivering. Your body sags into the weight of the fabric, the scent of sweat and coffee. 

You don’t even pay attention to the growing tones, shocked. People look over to the two fast words being tossed.

Yet it could only last so long. 

Ivon’s hand latches onto the side of your arm, beginning to drag you back and away from this kind stranger like a lap dog while throwing curses behind him. Gray eyes meet yours as old shoes skid and stumble. 

König had taken a firm step towards you that day, his body tense and his hands clenched at his side—ready to do anything on a moment's notice should you ask for it. But all you do is stare, jaw loose, and the given coat still on your shoulders. You just couldn’t understand why he would do that. 

The stranger gets swallowed by the crowd, and just like that, he’s gone. 

That was all it had been; a moment—a few mere seconds in the large plot that was this almost impossible tale. You were glad it had been him, or else the events of the future could have been very different. 

Of course, they hadn’t let you keep the jacket, but the memory was enough to warm you for days even as old pains faded and new ones took their place. 

But those gray eyes would help you in the future, like a guardian; a protector in your dreams as you watched the snow fall from the sliver of outside light in your room with the others. Your mattress was on the floor like the rest, thin blankets and clouds of cold breath wafting up from sleeping forms. 

This was the time it happened, and you’d just woken up to find the curtains shifting as one of the women near it moved in her sleep. Shadows slip past, the light interrupted as it shifts over your tired face with broken fractures. 

You were always kept on the ground floor. 

'CLEARANCE: APPROVED 

TRANSLATING MISSION REPORT ‘RED FREEDOM’…

STAND BY…

Operation Red Freedom took place on November twenty-fifth, 2021, at approximately 0230 in the neighborhood of [REDACTED], at the residence of [REDACTED], Berlin, Germany. A squad of ten highly trained [REDACTED] personnel covertly entered the residence in two teams of five. Fireteam One advanced from the back entrance while Fireteam Two entered the residence from the balcony at the top floor, accessed via ladder.

Squad Leader [REDACTED], part of Fireteam One, set foot in the residence of [REDACTED] at approximately 0238 and began sweeping the ground floor as Fireteam Two cleared three of twelve known individuals belonging to the terrorist organization, Al-Qatala, on the top floor….'

You shift and shiver, your body trying to warm itself as the world blurs at the sides of your vision. Fingers twitch as your hand goes to wrap your waist, curled into the fetal position, creaking emanates from above you. Blinking softly, you frown and take a quivering breath, head nuzzling the thin mattress. 

“Cold,” you say, the following low exhale of air out of your lips only making it all worse as everything seems to drop another degree. The darkness didn’t help either, only that one line of light trying desperately to fill the room like a bucket descending into a dry well. 

You’re only clothed in the dirty and tattered remains of a large shirt, your legs feeling like they don’t hold any blood in them as they quiver without your knowledge—shaking the blanket above you. A few of the girls had said it would be okay to share, but everyone was afraid of the lock on the door clicking open and the men coming back in and seeing them. In the end, you could only look after yourself.

A thump makes you startle, drooping eyes snapping back open as you gasp. 

Head shifting, you blink rapidly upward to the ceiling, confused as to whether that had been a part of a failing mind or if you’d really just heard a muffled bump upstairs. Brows furrowing, you lightly sit up, hands still around yourself and legs limply outward; spine hunched. 

Your fingers had lost feeling, just as your nose had gone numb, but moving helped a little. Your hands dig into your flesh and your ears twitch at every creak in the wood—every pass of silent feet that suddenly becomes all the clearer as the sheen of fatigue slowly leaves your brain. 

Walking? Small pains move along your body like needles, poking and prodding, but you ignore them as easily as you do the vile hands that had touched you. Survival had forced you into a constant state of self-preservation—pain couldn’t bother you, because if you stopped, you wouldn’t get back going again. 

Your head tilts so you can side-eye the door to the room, sleeping forms all around shifting, singular groaning of tired lungs. But there’s something inside of you that stiffens like a prey animal, and you don’t know why. Inside of your sockets, your eyes hone in, bones stiff and your chest stilling as the grain becomes the most interesting thing to you beyond breathing. 

There was someone….out there. 

Watching, the sides of your vision shadow over to focus harder, your muscles tight. Your mind goes to the thumps from upstairs, the moving feet that sounded far more careful and deliberate than the ones your jailors took care to walk with. 

Inside your ribs, your heart patters a bit faster, adrenal glands sending a certain flight or flight through the few veins you hold that aren’t chilled over.

Something was happening. Something wasn’t right.

Only when you move to shake the shoulder of one of the women sleeping beside you does it happen. 

A yell. 

A scream. 

The girls in the room all startle awake, sounds of concern and shock entering the air that you mirror; faces snapping to the ceiling and the door. The townhouse erupts into gunfire and the sound of slamming wood—a warzone that only is separated from all of you by the thin material of the four walls.

You feel yourself being grabbed and held in fear in the dark, as your open face holds the expression of a rabbit in an open field, looking along the long, hidden grass. 

The sounds persist, loud German shouts going up over the house and echoing with heated fever. This continues for minutes, added in with the sound of doors breaking off hinges, bouncing off the ground, and shaking the foundation so hard that you can feel it reverberate. The women go silent. Stone-still. 

But the gunfire—so much gunfire. The constant pop of assault weapons and a pound of multiple booted feet. 

What was going on? You can't make sense of it, so you only freeze and listen; trying to understand the longer the fight goes on, heart hammering; mouth slack-jawed. And then it’s like it never happened.

Silence. 

You share quick looks with the others, all gripping one another and heads angled to the door. The heavy feet start back up again, coming closer. Your mind slashes to the window across the room, but it’s hard to think beyond the sudden body that shakes the door that leads directly to you all—the women scream, some standing up and racing to the glass with the same idea as you. 

'…Squad Leader [REDACTED], and both Fireteams successfully eliminated all targets inside of the [REDACTED] residence, leaving the room occupied by known hostages last to prevent casualties and/or the usage of bargaining chips. Squad Leader [REDACTED] made contact with hostages at approximately 0244 after the final sweep of the townhouse had been completed and all personnel accounted for.

Local authorities had been contacted by neighbors due to noise but were dismissed.' 

The door busts off its hinges and the room devolves into panicked yells and hurled bits of mattress material. Loud pleas and curses stuck like gums to teeth as they were forced out in fear and bone-crushing terror. You remember pushing back into the wall, many others doing the same, as a beast of a man enters the room with his face covered with a loose fabric hood of some sort. 

Large—brutish. Like a demon walking with the color of black printed over his entire body; gear hangs from a combat vest, hands holding an assault rifle as a sidearm is strapped to his bulging thigh. Forearms the side of your head stays near his chest, and in order to not hit his head on the doorframe, the individual has to bend slightly. Over that hood, the lenses and head-gear of a night-vision rig sit heavily before it’s moved back with a firm hand that is nearly double the size of yours.

A monster.

Your entire being is tight with quivering tension, eyes blinking away tears at the smell of blood that rolls in from the hallway. The women at the window duck down, hands to their heads as if expecting a bullet to carve its way between their skulls. 

“Cat,” one of the ladies behind you mutters, voice quivering. You shush her on bitten lips and move her farther behind you. 

“Don’t speak,” you mutter. “Don’t move.”

You don’t know what you expect, but nothing about this is correct. 

The man raises his hands, the rifle slapping his chest as it hangs from a strap. He speaks in German, and the heavy and fast noise of it makes your already addled head spin. No one answers beyond the slide of their own feet over the hardwood floors.

“Ich heiße König,” his head swivels from one to another, “Sprichst du Deutsch? Irgendjemand?”

You stare blankly, panting. 

After a moment, and a slow step forward from the stranger, he speaks again, though this time, it’s in English. 

“My name is König.” His voice is familiar to you, and you blink in confusion quickly, hidden near the back of the shaking bodies. “I am with the German Military, yes? We have conducted a raid on this residence.” 

Military? Raid? 

“...I am not here to hurt you.” He nears one of the women, beginning to bend down slowly. She squeaks, balking back—making him tense and halt. It didn't matter what he said, König was the epitome of a man who was intimidating on body alone; the gear wasn’t helping. Neither was the hood. 

A soldier appears in the doorway, calling out to him in his native language as you flinch at the noise. 

König calls back calmly, trying to keep an air of gentle strength around him.

The second soldier comes inside, dressed similarly despite the lack of fabric over his visage which instantly puts many at ease again. He clears his throat as König steps back, gargantuan hands coming up to rest at his vest collar as his legs shift. He seems a bit put off at the fearful stares from everyone, rolling his shoulders for a moment as he turns his head to look out of the doorway. 

Your eyes don’t move from him, though. A nagging feeling in the back of your skull. 

“We have to leave this place,” the second soldier tells you all, kneeling and resting a hand over his knee. “We’ll get you medical attention. Food. Water. There’s no need to suffer here any longer, hm? We can see to it that all of you will get the best care that can be provided.” A pause. “We can get you back home.” 

That certainly got the attention that was needed. 

Meek questions started falling out, then louder ones before pandemonium was roused in that tiny room pushed to the very back of the townhouse. Home. It was a word that had almost lost all meaning but was still that constant shining light in the back of everyone’s mind. 

Home.

Did you even have one of those left? 

As the rest of your fellows all got to their feet, taking you with them, you had to think over that fact as the soldier guided them gently out of the room to join the others waiting—trying to answer their questions and get them away from the gore before they saw it. 

You stayed behind, feet shifting over the floor and your lips thin. As the silence settles in, you hold yourself a bit tighter and glance at the mattress all mashed together and stained—those thin blankets as you shiver. 

“Are you alright?” Your head snaps over. 

You’d forgotten about König.

He still stands there, still and with his hands at his collar; he clears his throat softly, speaking up from his low utterance. “Please…do not be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid,” you say tinily, your voice cracking in the lie. 

You can’t see his eyes—not with the shadow from his hood or his head rig, but you can see the way his skull lightly tilts to the side, trying to see you better in the low light. 

“That is good,” he answers, not convinced. “I’m glad. I did not wish to scare anyone.” He moves back and motions with a hand to the door from where they hang. “Please. It is best not to linger, yes?”  

“Do I…” you hesitate, shivering. “Do I know you from somewhere?” 

König’s face isn’t visible, but you can still sense the feeling of confusion leaking out of him. The man takes a small step closer, and you gaze up at him until his eyes are visible. 

Blue-gray. 

You stare, mouth parting in shock.

König blinks twice, quickly making a noise in the back of his throat at the sight of your eyes gazing into his—the same woman outside of the coffee shop from days ago.

That little invisible string pulls you closer, small millimeter by small millimeter. 

“You?” You both say it at the same time, laced with surprise and shock. 

It’s a long moment of gazing into each other, a battered body and another more strong than an ox. All fear of the man dissipates. 

“You gave me your jacket,” you whisper, still torn up about it. 

König’s hood shifts as he glances back to the door, German speech over the radio strapped to his chest which he takes in and processes in the back of his skull. But he always looks back at you, eyes crinkled with concern and perhaps even a bit of misplaced guilt. 

A protective knife sides into his side.

“Come.” The man reaches out a hand, hovering it over your arm. You stare at the gloved limb for a moment before softly moving towards it with your breath caught in your throat, hesitant. König’s fingers delicately slide over the flesh, not closing around it until he feels your muscles loosen. “...Let’s get you warmer, Schatz, yes?” 

You blink.

“It’s cold here,” you mutter, letting him guide you along, his gray orbs always keeping you in the side of his vision. 

“Yes,” he agrees, nodding. “Very cold. Have you been to Germany during the winter before?”

Your head slightly shakes, bare feet padding along next to the pair of great boots—you lean closer unconsciously to the promise of warmth. König guides you away from the seeping blood on the floor and protects your eyes from the view of the bodies across the room with his own as a guard dog would. 

“No.” He notices your leaning and brings you nearer to him, letting you use him as a brace. The man knows the effects of shock, and you wear it as plainly as any other. “I’ve never been here before.” 

König hums and his free hand goes up to press into the radio, muttering in his native tongue. He releases the connection and asks as he blinks at you, “Do you require any immediate medical attention?” 

Again, you shake your head. 

“Where are the others?” You sink further into him, being guided to the front door, open to the soft snowfall and a chilled wind as your shoulder hunch. 

“Just outside,” König glances at the bodies across the room—the ones he’d riddled with bullets that still twitch even as the minutes draw longer. Gray eyes going from one to another, the house is heavy with the weight of dead men. Twelve in total and all getting colder just like the temperature outside. König didn’t feel bad about it, and when he’d finally busted open that door to find you and the women, he was satisfied with the blood on his hands. If hell were to be his home, he would walk there with a golden-fanged smile. 

But now wasn’t the time for that. 

“I will bring you to them,” the soldier speaks, snow blowing in from the entrance. “Slowly, now, Schatz, watch the steps. Allow me to help.”

You stop at the doorway, bringing a hand to your mouth to cover a haggard cough as König makes his way down the first concrete step ahead of you—large armored vehicles had pulled up from a ways away. The women huddle around one another, the rest of the soldiers sticking by them and opening the doors to the vehicles as the night gets only more cold and stormy.  

Gray eyes flicker for a moment down to your lack of proper protection, fingers twitching and tapping at his thigh as König remembers your expression the day he’d first met you. 

“Do you want me to carry you?” He says slowly, cautious in his approach. The man wasn’t stupid—he wouldn’t touch you unless you explicitly stated it was alright for him to do so. “I will be gentle, I promise. I do not wish for your feet to freeze, I...” He pauses as you blink, staring into his soul. “I…will not touch you if you do not tell me to do it. You have my word.” 

You continue to stand there for a moment, face unreadable before your head slowly turns to the vehicles in the street. 

The neighborhood was so normal it still caused you to wonder how no one had spoken up and seen something. Rows of connected houses now with their lights on—faces peeking from the windows like little children on Christmas morning; trying to get glimpses of Santa and the man’s reindeer. 

Finally, your gaze moves back to the hooded visage of König, able to see it better under the moonlight and the glare of falling snowflakes—a few of those frozen pieces sitting in the folds of the fabric.

“The hood scared them,” you utter about the others. König stiffens a bit, blinking at you but not looking away. “They’re used to people trying to hide their faces, but yours…with how large you are…”

“I understand.” König doesn't tear away his eyes. “...Did I scare you, Schatz?”

You don’t know why, but for what seems like the first time in years, the question makes you giggle. The beast of a man goes still with his feet on the ground, usually jittery and moving body captivated by the sound as it echoes over the night’s air—the puff of your breath as it moves around his hood; rustling it like leaves on a tree. 

Eyes widening only a sliver more, König’s breath is in his throat.

It was like listening to a bird’s song.

“Maybe only a little,” you whisper to him. “But it’s okay. I’m scared of most things.” 

He licks his lips, but you’re unable to see the slight quirk of them afterward. 

“Then I will make it up to you, yes?” He holds out a hand. “Let me? The car is warm and your friends are waiting for you. My men say they ask about your health.”

You softly nod, the shadow of the house trying to drag you back into it—its blackened arms reaching and latching onto old scars. When your hand connects with König's, the man takes his time putting one foot back to a step and scooping you up from behind your knees. With a tiny grunt, you settle at his chest, calming your heartbeat with the fact that you know he won’t hurt you. 

“I’ve got you,” he says. 

In his arms, your bare legs hang in the air, hand wrapping his neck, and with a slightly nervous look to you as your body hovers. König watches for a moment, hesitating before he begins walking to the same vehicle the other woman had been moved into out of the snowfall. 

“Can you tell me your name,” he asks to distract you from his hold, to get you more comfortable with him as his boots crunch through the packed powder on the ground—making sure to watch his step so as to not jostle you. 

“Everyone calls me Cat.” Gray eyes blink your way, visible skin painted black. König’s head tilts. You can’t help but find it endearing.

“Katze?” He hums, and you can imagine his lips moving slightly upwards from the innocent tone of his voice as if taken by the strange moniker. “That is…interesting.” 

You huff tinily, shivering again as your body moves to curl a little more. 

The soldier quickly reassures you. “Nearly there.” 

The vehicle is in front of you, and a nearby man opens the door for König as he carries you over. Nodding in thanks, the large individual eases you into one of the seats as the blast of warm air makes you sag—the other woman in there mulls closer, grabbing onto you and laughing through tears. 

Looking back at them, you smile and feel yourself get a bit teary-eyed as everything starts to slowly come into focus. 

Glancing outward, you stare at the snow that hits the dark hood of König, sticking and hanging off until the tiny white dots melt from the heat of his body. With his legs shifting he moves back a step and nods to you, eyes moving to stare at the ground for a moment. 

“We will take you to base. From there you will all be given dorms and fresh apparel to—”

“Thank you, König,” you interrupted him. He stares, lips parted with the half-tones of cut-off speech. “And please extend my thanks to your men as well.” 

“...Of course, Katze.” König stands straighter, always twitching fingers moving to the car door as engines start with a grinding roar. He nods again, the loose fabric swaying as the lenses of his rig stay firm at the movement. “There is no need to thank us. Relax. Sleep, if you wish to do it. The ride will be long.” The man’s gray eyes linger for a moment on your own, studying the bumps and small marks on your face. His hand tightens over the door as your gaze is stuck with his own; warmth blooming in his chest. He was glad he had found you. 

König slips out a soft, “There are blankets under the seats,” before he closes the door with a firm thump of metal. 

You can’t help but smile. 

'…Hostages were taken back to [REDACTED] and received minor medical attention on site. Housed in [REDACTED] and were admitted for needed treatments/medications - all details/names listed in File 3 Section 6 for future reference. DNA was placed into databases. 

Next of kin were informed of their family members’ position and/or state of being via phone call to the corresponding government official that then traveled through the appropriate channels once identified.'

You sit as a nurse hands you heating pads for your hands, which you take with a small thanks and clenched tightly, sucking every ounce of warmth from them to stop the shaking. Your body was heavy with the weight of new clothes and heated blankets, the room utterly normal in a way you’d not known for years. A corner table with books and a chess board—a connected bathroom stocked with amenities you may need; even a rug on the tile floor. You don’t know why that was shocking to you, but even the simplest thing was awe-inspiring. Your eyes had even slipped over a tiny nightlight near the door. 

It nearly made you cry. 

Your nurse moves back a bit, smiling down at you kindly. 

“Is there anything else you might need, Dear?” Her accent is prominent, though not as much as König’s had been. She waits for your answer diligently as the pitcher of water and a similar glass sit on your nightstand. 

“No,” you say, shaking your head. Your socked feet rub together like a grasshopper. “I think that’s all.” Your eyelids blink. “But…” you stop.

“What is it?” The lady asks gently, hands slack at her sides.

“The man—König,” you pause. “Is he here?” 

Blinking at you, the nurse tilts her head to the side in curiosity. “Not currently, no. At least, not in this specific building. He and his men are being debriefed across base. They will be there for a long while.” At your blank look, her brows slightly move up in accommodating comfort. “Would…you like me to tell him something for you?” 

Playing with the heating pads in your hands, your face gains a slightly embarrassed sheen. You liked the thought of being near König, truthfully. No one had made you feel safe like he did—him and his selfless action of a large coat given with no intention of getting anything in return. 

“Just,” you breathe softly. “Just that I’m sorry for losing his coat, and that I hope it wasn’t expensive.”

The nurse stares, very much confused but not about to question you. Her feet shift over the floor, and a light nod is sent your way. 

“Of course. I’ll tell him.” She motions to the bed with a hand and explains that whenever you wished to sleep, you were free to use the bed—and the TV was open to you as well, though you might not be able to understand the local stations. With that, she exited the room. 

Left alone, your head moves around the room slowly, taking it all in once more as the small bandages under your clothes pull at your flesh. The tears start slipping down your cheeks with no warning. 

Wrist coming up to your eyes, the limb presses in tightly, water staining the flesh as it dribbles down, and your lip quivers like a worm below it. You don’t know why you’re crying now and not when König had gotten you out of that townhouse. Why now, when there wasn’t anything prompting you to do so? 

But something was prompting you—the knowledge that you would never be going back to anyone who would mistreat you again. You had your own room. Good food. All the water that your stomach could drink down. A nightlight that pushes back the darkness even if you’re so used to living in it. 

Through your soft sniffles, chuckles move out, filling the space with a warm echo. You pull the blankets closer to you and collapse backward onto the mattress, smiling widely at the ceiling. 

That little invisible string dances as your heart pulls at it. 

—

König’s leg lightly jumps from under his table, signing off his name at the bottom of a report before he stands and rubs a hand over the top of his un-hooded head. He grabs the paper and slips it into a manila folder, hands pale with deep scars running the length of them like fissures in the earth. Deftly taking the item, he walks out of his office and begins moving down the length of the building, fingers tapping over the yellowish material with a small connection of flesh and thick envelope. 

Tap-tap, tappity-tap. 

His fingers were always fidgeting—moving, tensing, twitching. It was one of the reasons they never let him become a recon sniper; the more obvious being the blatant size of his body. Both of which had been the cause of much teasing throughout his childhood. 

But König’s mind was on something other than the report in his hands, and it was starting to become a very strong distraction. You. The women. Al-Qatala. 

He was angry he hadn’t acted outside of that coffee shop—angry he hadn't noticed the signs right in front of him even if he had been powerless to stop it then. The soldier’s jaw clenched, the strong muscles of his jaw roving. 

“Verdammt,” he hisses under his breath, glaring at the tile. “Should have done something.”

König gets to his commanding officer’s office and knocks, only staying long enough to hand him the folder with his finished report and leave once more. His mind wouldn’t stay silent tonight. There’s no doubt that he won’t be able to sleep unless he reassures himself that you and the others are okay. 

The man’s head shifts back to the email he had gotten from your assigned nurse, whom he’d taken it upon himself to know the name of when he carried you into the base’s hospital—Eva. 

‘...She says she wants to apologize for losing your coat…”

König’s heart had twisted at that—that was what you were concerned about? He had to tell you that it was alright, or else he would never know peace. Perhaps even ask how you’ve been treated so far, just to make sure that everything was comfortable for you. 

The man’s eyelids move slightly downward in thought, a pull at his heart to walk outside. He passes a few other soldiers in the hallway, nodding to them with a tiny greeting but unwilling to stop and talk. In only fatigues, König exits the main doors quickly, lightly moving into a jog as his body shivers at the sudden chill touching his arms under the black compression shirt. Under him the snow has grown deeper, the large lights illuminating the almost greenish reflections of the winter landscape of open roads and large buildings. 

Curfew was long past—this had to be quick. 

Just a check-in, König tells himself as he nears the hospital, his breath puffing in the air. Then I can wipe my hands of it. 

He slows as he nears the doors, huffing a breath as he pushes on the barrier, opening it with a squawk of hinges and metal. Entering, the front desk staff looked up at him in surprise, muttering his name in question.

“Katze?” He responds, pushing a hand over his head and feeling the melting snowflakes. His cheeks are a light shade of exposure-red, and inquisitive eyes shift over the two individuals slowly. “What room?”

The pair share a glance and tell him in the same breath. Room ten. 

It’s no sooner after that König finds himself there, hand hovering over the handle as the hallway clock ticks beside his right ear. His gray eyes blink at the door, feet shuffling from under him before he clears his throat under his breath, glancing away for a second in hesitation. 

Was this appropriate?

König didn’t have an answer, but the pull in his chest was tight and firm—he just needed to see you. A glimpse, nothing more. He raises his fist and raps his knuckles over the wood delicately, three tiny knocks that hit his ears like bullets from a gun; the bullets he’s put into pathetic Al-Qatala bodies and watched burst like sacks of fluid. 

He waits, hands going to grasp at his shirt collar, pushing out a low breath to calm himself. 

After a long moment, his foot taps the floor, blinking. Again he knocks—a bit louder. 

“She is sleeping, you evolutionsbremse,” he utters, accent low and grating. “Leave her alone.” But even if you are, his nerves peek their head over the brimstone wall of his brain. 

With his fingers caressing the handle, slowly moved to clutch it fully, swallowing the metal in his grip. König takes a deep breath into his lungs, letting it fill them up. Again, he tells himself, just a check-in. 

He twists the doorknob and sets his forearm on the wood, pushing the barrier open. 

König moves so that his body makes no noise, even with how large it is as he angles the side of his head through the opening. He finds a large mound of blankets atop the bed—stacked and layered so heavily that he has to blink in surprise at how you can breathe under them; because you were under them. 

Gray eyes make out the small sliver of skin peaking out from the side of the bed—fingers—and the top of your forehead near the pillows formed around your skull. Unconsciously, a soft smile works its way over König’s lips until he finds himself chuckling.

“Niedlich,” he mutters, scars over his face shifting as he speaks. 

Sighing lowly, König pulls back his head, beginning to close the door once more.

“König…?” Your tiny voice makes him halt like he had in the townhouse. 

Eyes wide and lips parted at being caught, the door remains open, only a sliver visible to your vision as your furrowed brows are stuck at the barrier. A red sheen moves across the soldier’s face in a slow sweep of embarrassment that goes bone deep.

With a lick of his lips, König re-opens the door slightly.

“I did not mean to wake you, Katze.” He finds your eyes and nods to you. “I apologize. Go back to sleep—you must be tired.” 

 “Wait,” you utter, moving your head fully out from under the blankets. König pauses, eyes staring as his other hand comes up to itch at the back of his neck. 

“What is it,” the man asks, opening the door fully and moving inside. “Do you need anything?” 

The question had hit you in your thin slumber, interrupted only partially by the opening of your door to the familiar pull of gray eyes and a strong build. A buzz-cut head. You take a slow breath to wake yourself up more, watching him from your bed. “...Did you know that I would be in that house?”

König tilts his head at the question, sighing slightly and glancing at the clock inside of the room on your nightstand. He frowns. 

“No,” he explains gently, coming closer. “No, I did not. I do not get told such things—only where to shoot and where not to.” The man tries a small smile, kneeling on one leg down by the bed and staring into your sleepy eyes. “But I am glad I found you again, yes? You had me worried.”

“You were worried?” You can’t quite grasp it.

“Ja,” he nods. “Your eyes—they have stuck with me, Schatz, you understand?” 

Your eyebrows pull up your face, blinking in shock. 

“...Yours, too,” you confess. König’s heart flutters, listening until your lips have fallen still. “They’re very nice, König.”

He goes sheepish, lips flicking up into a smile and his eyes daring away for a moment. “You can thank my mother for them, then.” He chuckles. “I have stolen the family's eyes, I was told.”

You chuckle with him, hand coming to rub at your cheek. A silence falls between the two of you.

“I don’t sleep well,” you tell him in the relative darkness, light from the hallway and your night light illuminating the dips and bone structure of his face. “I was awake when you opened the door.” 

He nods after a moment. “Ja.” A pause. “I don’t either…Nightmares?” 

You watch him before nodding tinily. 

“Ah,” he mutters. “They are not pleasant, I’m sorry that they have been plaguing you. Do you…” König wonders if he should leave—this was far more than he had anticipated. “Do you wish for me to stay?” 

 Why had he said that?

The string between the two of you tightens evermore, gaining another thread just as it would for the years to come until it became as unbreakable as steel.

“I don’t want to be a nuisance,” you begin but are quickly interrupted with a shake of a square head and a huff of a sharp nose.

“You are not. Do not call yourself such.” His accent deepens with emotion, eyes narrowing as the dark brows on his face pull in. “If you want me to stay, I will stay. Wake you if you become shaky, yes? Keep the bad dreams at bay.”

“But what about you?” Your voice moves around the room as König stands and goes to the table in the back, shifting one of the chairs so that it’s angled your way. You shift so you can watch him sit back, grunting as his legs move out in front of him, opening so he can be more comfortable. He needed a bigger chair, but he wasn’t going to complain about it. 

“I’m not tired, Schatz.” A lie. His muscles are heavy, and he longs for his bed in the barracks. He pushes out, “Please, go back to sleep. I’ll watch over you.”

You stare for a long while, studying him and how he fidgets in his seat of choice. A small laugh meets the man’s ears as he crosses his arms over his chest. König pauses, blinking over in confusion. His lips move upwards slowly. 

“What are you laughing at, then, hm?” 

“You look like you’re about to break it,” you mutter, head nuzzling the pillow under you as fatigue claws its way under your skin. 

König huffs, fingers twitching over the meat of his biceps as he slouches. He nods jokingly. “Perhaps,” he shrugs, the window behind him letting a slight tinge of cold air in from outside. “It would not be the first, I’m afraid, though it would be quite the embarrassment to do it in front of you, Katze.” He smirks. “But I’ll say, hitting my head on door frames hurts more than letting my arsch kiss the ground.” 

You laugh under your heap, your body jerking to the movement of your lungs. 

“I bet,” you say, fingers grasping one of your blankets and pulling it closer. “It’s a funny image.”

“You can laugh all you want,” König jokes, eyes soft as they gaze at you. “It does not bother me.” 

Your sweet sounds of amusement waft out from under the crack in the door, where a small group of curious nurses mull and listen with glances to one another. A doctor moves past the hallway where they stand, and all scatter on quick feet. 

'…Signed,

[REDACTED]

SUBMITTED: 0517, 25, November 2021

END OF MISSION REPORT ‘RED FREEDOM’

RETURNING TO SELECTION MENU…

STAND BY…'

It’s only after most of the other women leave—sent home to awaiting families or loved ones—that you know your time is coming to a close here in Berlin, Germany. While you’re excited to put this behind you, you can’t help but feel a bit…lost. 

There’s something that keeps you here, on this base, until you’re the last out of all of them, waiting. And then you’re given the green light to go—go home—and suddenly you have a backpack full of necessities and you’re closing the door to your room with the little nightlight’s plastic body pushing against your spine. Yet, you stand in the hallway for a long minute, fingers interlocked. 

You take a long, deep, breath. 

Over the weeks of recovery, König had been a constant companion when he wasn’t needed. He had eased you back into a comfortable state, letting you somewhat lose the black-and-white view you had gained of the world. But there was only so much he could do, even if his soft eyes were still stuck in your dreams—the good ones, of course. 

You needed to go home, and, today, the C-17 was whirring on the tarmac, waiting for you to be transported to a military base far from here where you would be processed and, ultimately, let go. 

Let go. It was jarring to think about, all of that freedom. What would you do with it? Right now, you don’t have the faintest clue. It was the best feeling you can remember having.

Smiling, you take one last look at the room behind you and walk on. 

At the entrance, you say a heartfelt ‘thank you’ to the nurses and doctors in broken German, shaking their hands as Eva kisses your forehead and whispers how happy she is to have had you here for such little time—you know what she means and you chuckle with her at the double-edged sword. 

König waits by the door, holding it open with…you blink at the item in his hands as well as his sudden appearance. Canvas fabric. A coat.

The coat. 

“I had to have it processed,” he says, smiling as you gape at him. “Very long process. It was found in the closet in the townhouse.” 

“Then why are you handing it to me,” you ask, tilting your head and walking closer. 

“I gave it to you, did I not?” The man hums, head tilting as he motions with it again. “It’s a good coat, Katze. Winters get cold.” Gray eyes crinkle gently. “I would hate for you to shiver, wherever it is that you end up, yes?”

You shake your head, cheeks hot. But your hands don’t hesitate to grasp the item, König’s hold on it remains fast, though, and you blink at him as you both keep it gently clasped like it’s worth its weight in gold. 

König stares at you, the door still kept open behind him. He opens and closes his mouth for a moment as you tilt your head. 

“Keep it safe for me,” is what he ends with, but his expression tells you he’s not talking about the coat. 

It makes your arms tingle—your heart skips a beat. 

“I’ll be sure it never gets lost,” you smile warmly, eyes malleable as the make of their color glints. There is a connection to this man that transcends words, and it is tied to you just as heavily as it is to him; unexplainable, incomprehensible, non-describable. 

Enigmatic. 

König’s reverential face is soft with care. 

“Good,” he mutters, unable to look away. “Very good.”

Clearing his throat, his grays dart to the floor, shifting his feet to move backward. He pushes open the door wider for you, and you hold your backpack in one hand as you shift past him and slip into his coat. 

It was exactly how you remembered it, and you sank into the fabric with a thankful sigh and a fluttering of your lashes. You shift the bag back over your shoulders, letting the straps fall into the bulk of the extra material. 

The snow wasn’t falling today, and the ground was shoveled of any white powder too. On the air, you can hear the whir of the C-17. 

König comes up beside you, a hand hovering over the small of your back as he guides you along. For the most part, the walk to the tarmac is silent with the weight of the future. You had no phone. No socials. You didn’t even know if you wanted any, to be honest. Your mind had convinced you that a good bout of soul-searching was exactly what you needed. And you had to do that alone. 

Your lips are thin as your legs take you closer to the plane, König’s scent stuck into the stitches of the coat and covered your senses. 

At the ramp, he stops as your feet take you onto the metal. Closing your eyes for a moment, you turn and lock gazes with him—gray hiding away what other, more human, emotions to be found. It was a slate of carefully crafted acceptance, and your own followed soon after. 

It had to be this. The string wouldn’t break, no, but it had to be stretched to such a point to come back stronger.

“Thank—”

“Don’t,” he says, not blinking, looking up at you. 

You smile. “What do you want me to say, then?” 

“You don’t have to say anything to me.” You hadn't known it then, but the both of you had truly thought that this would be the last of your meetings. It produced a pulse in both of your hearts that would never be told aloud. “....Live well,” König utters. “Heal, Mein Schatz.” 

The soldier wasn't one to give his chances to hope. 

Your eyes follow as he backs up, moving away as you stare. In his head, König pleads with you to stop and give him a reprieve from the hypnosis of your gaze, the addictive movement of your head as it tilts to the side. 

Live well. 

You send him a smile, a delicate thing, and then you back up a step and turn, disappearing into the darkness. 

The string follows, and it continues to do so even as your hands slip into your pockets hours later, bumping into the small form of a black flip phone. The note hidden inside of it. 

 ‘For whenever you find what you’re looking for.’

'REQUEST FOR ADMINISTRATIVE DISCHARGE

REQUESTED BY: [REDACTED]

ENTERED: DECEMBER 15, 2021

TIME: 1422

OPEN FILE?...

REQUEST CANCELED….

RETURNING TO FILE SELECT MENU…

FILE SELECTED….

TRANSLATING…

STAND BY…

REQUEST OF HONORABLE ADMINISTRATIVE DISCHARGE OF [REDACTED] APPROVED ON JANUARY 2, 2022

OPEN FILE?...

REQUEST CANCELED…

SYSTEM SHUTTING DOWN'

You sit in a coffee shop in Berlin, Germany, by the window. It wasn’t just any coffee shop, but you try not to think about all of that. It was all in the past—three years, now. You like to think you’d learned something in that time.

“Danke schön,” you say to the woman who brings you your drink, nodding kindly. You take a small sip, humming and winking at her teasingly. “Perfekt.” 

She chuckles, wiping her hands on her apron. “Möchten Sie noch etwas anderes dazu?”

“Nein, nein,” you shake your head, waving a hand that soft bumps the flip phone on the table. “Danke.” 

The lady walks away, and you take another sip of the hot beverage, never put off by the heat. 

It was winter again, and your eyes followed the flakes as they fell from a cloudy sky, finding the beauty in it easily as you sat inside. The scarf around your neck is loose—your gifted coat open. You smile to yourself and hum, watching people walk past outside, thinking about their lives and how they live them. 

A large form travels out from a shop across the street, a plastic bag in his loose grip. He was not small, no, this man was a beast of height and strength alike. The loping, canid-like, walk was accented by the twitch of his fingers over his quarry. 

Your wide eyes stay stuck to him for a long moment as he moves to the crosswalk, people shifting out of his way as he ignores them. Familiarity strikes like lighting—a buzz down your spine that leaves you straightening.

After a long moment, a breathless laugh sneaks out of you.

There were just some things that people were never meant to understand.

Your hand places your cup back on the table, picking up the old flip phone and pushing it open. Your thumb runs the keypad, moving to the only contact that had ever been entered into the device. 

Pressing, you move it to your ear as you watch with a soft expression, heart pattering. 

Across the way, the man tenses, hand patting his leg before the other hand moves inside his pocket and shifts the item out. People walk away, moving to the other side of the crosswalk as he stares at the contact. 

A minute passes, and all the while you hold your breath.

He presses and moves the phone to his ear, staying as still as stone. As still as a man afraid his hood might scare a group of terrified women. 

His voice graces your ear.

“...Katze?” You beam, trapped in the warmth of the coat around your shoulders.

“How do you feel about coffee, König?” 

Blue-gray eyes had never been more beautiful than when they snapped up to meet yours.

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[blondeboyfriend]

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 (𝟏𝟖+)

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈

[ PAIRING ] Eren Yeager x f!reader x Zeke Yeager [ AUTHOR'S NOTE ] This is what Zeke's house looks like. Enjoy the fantasyyyyyyy. (This is from 2021!) [ SYNOPSIS ] You and your best friend, Eren, decide to spend a week on the coast with his half-brother, Zeke. Shit gets weird. This is pure pwp. [ WORD COUNT ] 6k [ CONTENT ] Modern AU, dubcon, jerking off, rough sex, oral sex, facefucking, throatfucking, nipple play, groping, exhibitionism, voyeurism, fingering, finger sucking, degradation (slut), spit play, hair pulling, praise kink, creampie, pussy slapping, impact play (spanking), petnames (baby, dude lol), threesome (duh), spitroasting, a facial.

You ached for Eren. You desperately wanted him to touch you, to feel you. To take you in his arms and fuck you into oblivion. You imagined him saying he owned you, that you were his. You thought about his rough hands and the places he could put them. Your brain lingered on the sensation of his rugged fingers in your mouth.

But you put these things out of your mind. As much as you wanted Eren you told yourself he was off limits. Why live out the cliché of childhood best friends falling for each other? It crossed your mind to ask him out before you went your separate ways after high school, but you decided not to risk it. Eren was too important.

College kept you two separate for a couple years. You stayed in contact, little texts here and there. The distance did you wonders. For the most part you were able to rid yourself of your lust for Eren. It was when summer arrived that things got complicated. It was the first one you had spent together since you graduated high school and Eren had the genius idea to stay at his weird half-brother’s house in Big Sur.

“It’ll be fun,” Eren whined.

You and Eren were sitting on a bench at a local park watching American coots paddle around in a pond. You mostly agreed to humor his request because he’d foot the bill for coffee. He alternated between talking the place up and absolutely roasting it.

“We can hike. Oh, and there’s this whiskey bar in Carmel we can go to before we get to Bixby Bridge. I know Zeke has cable so we can watch TV and he said there is a convenience store in the fucking village he lives in.”

You sighed and went to respond only for him to cut you off.

“But get this, he said a 12-pack of beer costs a shit ton because all them rich fucks can charge whatever they want. Yeah, he’s into drinking wine now. Did you know these ‘towns’ along the highway are barely towns? Do you know how expensive gas is around there?”

“Oh my god, chill. I can barely follow your thought process.”

Eren ignored you again.

“Oh! But they’ll probably sell those weird, cheesy magnets your mom likes. You know the ones I’m talking about.”

You knew exactly the ones he was talking about. Kitschy magnets with the names of places written in ugly fonts on them were something your mother had an affinity for.

“I’m in. I guess,” you said, resigning yourself to a strange summer.

“Oh, dope,” he said right before stealing a sip of your coffee.

Zeke lived right on the coast, a nice change from the city you languished in. On the drive there you dreamt of harmless fun. You’d flirt with Eren. You’d probably have an awkward kiss or two outside the convenience store. You’d sip port wine and hang out with a bunch of geriatrics in the hot springs. A dream you were ready to indulge in.

But rather than harmless fun you spent your first night drunk off your ass with Eren and Zeke, frolicking on the coastline after dark like a bunch of idiots. You noticed how Zeke’s eyes would linger on your body, taking in every inch. You tried your best to ignore him, but he made no attempt to hide his leering. He needed you to know he was looking whether you wanted him to or not.

“Can I help you?” you slurred.

“Can I help YOU?” he asked mockingly.

You scoffed and attempted to find Eren amongst the redwoods. You needed him as a buffer between you and Zeke. You called out Eren’s name but got no response.

“Maybe he died,” Zeke said, his tone almost cheerful. He was already making his way back to the house.

“Don’t say shit like that. What if he is dead? The cliffs are not stable. We shouldn’t be walking along them anyway.”

Zeke strolled back over to you.

“Aw, are you scared?”

He slung an arm around your waist, pulling you to his side. He reeked of the overpriced tequila you’d been drinking.

“Don’t worry. Eren’s strong.”

“Strength doesn’t really help when you’re tumbling off a cliff,” you said, the worried tone in your voice increasing with every word.

“Hush. You look cold.”

Zeke used his free hand to tweak your nipple. You smacked it away even though part of you enjoyed the attention.

He leaned in closer to you and whispered in your ear, “He’ll find his way back. Who knows when we’ll get any alone time again?”

Zeke started to grope you. Shoving him away had some semblance of appeal, but you didn’t. You let out a small moan as shoved his hand up your shirt and pinched your nipple between his nimble fingers once more. Your breath hitched as he moved behind you and started to grind up against your ass. His cock was hard as a rock.

“I almost died! Okay, not exactly. I did trip over 80 ice plants, but it’s fine.”

Eren stumbled out from the trees, bottle of tequila in hand. Zeke quickly dropped his hands and stepped back from you.

“The fuck you guys doin’?” Eren asked, squinting his eyes as if that would help him ascertain the situation.

“Nothing, your friend here wanted to head back without you.”

“Dude!” Eren yelled, utterly aghast at Zeke’s comment.

“What? I—No!” You struggled to find the words, you were still plagued with lust. “Zeke wanted to leave you!”

“Rude. My own brother… Can’t believe this shit.”

Eren took a swig from the bottle and glared at you both.

“Can’t trust family!” He gestured at Zeke with the bottle.

“Can’t… I… I can trust you. I didn’t think so at first. I kinda thought you were like being a bitch which sucked because you’re like my best fucking friend and like…Oh, fuck. I gotta sit the fuck down.”

Eren softened his gaze and wandered over to you. He rested his head on your shoulder. You cautiously rubbed his back. His shirt was sticky with sweat and it clung to his body.

Needless to say Eren did not sit the fuck down as he so crudely put.

“Rub it,” Eren loudly whispered.

You patted Eren’s back gently while Zeke cackled and started to head back.

“You know…” Eren trailed off, losing his thought mid-sentence.

He nuzzled his face into your neck and nipped at it. His lips were unbelievably soft. He wrapped his arms around you and proceeded to grab your ass. You fidgeted uncomfortably, desperately trying to ignore your throbbing clit.

“You… know what?” he mumbled. “I think we should go fucking eat some food.”

Eren let you go and wandered back towards the trail leading to Zeke’s place.

“If I don’t eat like macaroni and cheese I’ll end up doing something you’ll, fuck, I’ll regret.” He tossed his hands up in the air. “I mean, we’d both regret it. Equal opportunity regret, dude.”

“So, you’re really not his girlfriend?” Zeke asked over dinner, which was definitely not macaroni and cheese.

Zeke took to teasing you mercilessly much to Eren’s annoyance. Zeke thought of himself as being incredibly clever when he was actually incredibly obnoxious.

Eren answered for you. “No. Just friends. I’ve known her since I was fucking five. How many times do I gotta tell you?” Eren stabbed at a rogue green bean on his plate. You’d never seen him so angry at a vegetable.

“Sounds like a textbook romance to me.”

Eren proceeded to fling the bean at Zeke. However he totally missed; the bean hit the wall with a little, quiet thud.

“Why?” Zeke asked.

“I don’t need a reason.”

You sat in silence during their bickering. There was no point in getting involved.

“What do you have to say about this?” Zeke asked, glancing over at you, eyes narrowed.

Something in his tone made your skin warm. He lit a cigarette. Eren mentioned he had a nasty habit of doing so at the dinner table.

“Me and Eren? Please. I’ve seen him naked. Not. Im. Pressive.”

Eren sat at the table mouth agape.

“We were 15! And the only reason you saw my shit was because you pantsed me in PE. Also, I was flaccid! Flaaaaaciiiiiiiiiid.”

“Oof, guess I got all the big dick genes then,” Zeke said.

“Big dick genes? Big dick genes!?” Eren pointed his fork menacingly at him. “Who’d you get them from? Our dad? Did you inherit our dad’s enormous dick, huh? Big dick dad genes!?”

You stood up, needing to escape their nonsense. As you walked away you could still hear them arguing about dicks.

“Why are you talking about our dad’s dick? Shut up.”

“Never! I will never shut up!”

“Get out.”

“You get the fuck out!”

“Eren, I live here!”

You stepped inside the bathroom and sighed. You stared in the mirror questioning your decision to come. You leaned against the sink and played with your phone. Once you thought they were done bickering, you walked into the room without announcing yourself, startling Eren and Zeke.

“Oh, hi!” Eren cheeks were flushed.

“Welcome back. You missed absolutely nothing,” Zeke said.

You took your seat at the table. Both of the men averted their gaze from you. It was only vaguely awkward.

“So, what’s the plan for the rest of the night?” you asked.

“Bed. We’re going to fucking bed, okay?”

“I’m not really tired,” you admitted.

“Never mind! Ugh. Bye!”

Eren stood up abruptly and stumbled into his room, slamming the door. Zeke sighed.

“He’ll be fine,” he said.

“I know. He tends to get emotional when he’s drunk and sleepy… and didn’t eat mac and cheese.”

“I’m an adult. I don’t eat that.”

You stared at him in complete disbelief.

“You must be so miserable if you ascribe age to certain foods.”

Zeke lit another cigarette, taking a rather large drag. His grey eyes were fixed on you.

“You’re not wrong,” he said, smirking.

“I never am.”

Zeke swiftly kicked you underneath the table. You winced as pain radiated up your leg.

“Cockiness isn’t very attractive.”

“You’re not very attractive,” you said, not realizing you put yourself on blast until it was too late.

“I find that hard to believe.” He stood up and walked into the kitchen, grabbing two shot glasses and that cursed bottle of tequila Eren had been carrying around. “You clearly have a thing for me.”

“What? No I don’t. You wish.” The words flew out of your mouth too quickly, it was clear you were lying through your teeth.

You were incredibly attracted to Zeke. Something about him made you feral and desperate to be fucked. He resumed his seat across from you. You watched as he poured two shots and nudged one towards you.

“I do wish. It’s too bad you don’t.”

You both knocked back a shot.

“You’re gross,” you said, wiping tequila residue from your lip.

“You don’t even realize how gross I can be.”

There was something almost sinister about his tone. It made your hands clammy.

Zeke continued. “I can show you, of course. I’m not averse to that.”

Zeke stood up and walked over to the couch. He fell backwards on it, sighing happily as he thudded onto it. You followed him and sat on the opposite end, keeping your distance from him. You weren’t sure what he was capable of. He might as well have been a rabid animal.

“Don’t be scared. I’m not even going to touch you. You just sit right there and be your precious self.”

“Uh, okay.”

He fiddled with his belt and pulled down his jeans revealing quite the erection. Your eyes widened; you couldn’t believe how ballsy he was. He stroked himself through his boxers, groaning ever so slightly. You couldn’t help but stare as he pulled out his cock and started to jerk off. Nothing could have pulled your attention away from him. He watched you, eyes half-lidded, clearly enjoying your gaze. Zeke let out an audible moan which made you look away, face hot with embarrassment. There was something heavenly about the way he sounded and you were ashamed you were so taken by it.

“Look at me,” Zeke demanded.

You met his gaze; his eyes were dark with ardor. He continued to pump his cock which had grown pink at the tip. You stared as pearls of precum dribbled down it. You were breathing heavily, trying to ignore how wet you were getting. Zeke relished in you falling apart at the seams.

“Do you realize how badly I want to cover your face with my cum?”

“No,” you said transfixed by Zeke jerking off.

“S—so bad,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’d make you knock on Eren’s door so he could see too.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

You nodded.

“Say it. I w—want to hear you say it.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“I would like that a lot.”

“Fuck,” Zeke said, blushing. He angled his cock upward and came on his shirt. “Well, got that out of my system.”

Zeke sprung up off the couch and patted you on the head.

“You should go to bed. Get some rest.”

Eren knocked on your bedroom door early the next morning. It wasn’t a particularly gentle knock so you assumed something bad happened. You got up out of bed, not bothering to put on your robe. Your body was on full display under your thin, cotton nightgown.

“What? What’s going on?”

The urgency in your voice confused him.

“Nothing? I wanted to see you.”

“You see me all the time.”

He looked you up and down. The nightgown you wore did little to preserve your modesty. Luckily you didn’t really give two shits.

“Not like this. Never like this.”

He bit his lip, clearly trying to look flirtatious. You couldn’t help but laugh. Eren was so embarrassing sometimes. He reached out and brushed the strap of your nightgown down.

“Is that your attempt at undressing me?”

“It was, but now I kinda like the idea of you keeping it on. It’s hot. You almost look innocent.”

Eren looked like garbage. His hair was thrown up in a messy bun and his eyes were bloodshot. He absolutely reeked of alcohol.

“I’m assuming you didn’t sleep,” you surmised.

He yawned, stepping inside your room. He quickly shut the door behind him.

“Is it obvious?”

“I hate to break it to you, but yes. You look like you got released from the drunk tank too early. Are you gonna be able to hike today?”

“Yes, of course. But can I please get in bed with you? I promise I won’t try anything.”

You didn’t believe him, but you agreed to it anyway. You both crawled into bed; Eren snuggled up behind you.

“How does your hair smell nice?”

“I showered before I got in bed, dingus.”

“Rude.”

“Shush. Go to sleep.”

You shut your eyes and tried to ignore the fact that a very shirtless Eren was spooning you. You breathed deeply, centering yourself. You thought of Eren and you as dumb kids, hoping it would strip you of your need to grind up on him. You thought of every time he ate shit on his bike, that one time you caught him picking his nose in third grade, and that other time he called you mom.

You snickered at the last one.

“The fuck you laughing about?”

You continued to laugh. “Nothing, I just—Remember that time you called me mom because I told you not to jump off a roof?”

“I hadn’t in forever. Many thanks for reminding me.”

His hand trailed from your shoulder to your waist. He took a deep whiff of your hair.

“I know I said I wasn’t gonna try anything, but I’m having a hard time not popping a boner right now.”

“Oh.”

“Does that interest you at all?”

“If I say yes you won’t tell you brother, right?”

“Why does that matter?”

“It doesn’t, I guess.”

Eren started to massage your clit, his fingers rubbing it in a circular motion. He pushed his fingers inside you, and slowly pulled them out.

“Open your mouth.”

Your lips parted as Eren put his fingers in your mouth, you sucked them clean. You pressed yourself up against him, grinding against his stiff cock. He stifled a moan as Zeke pounded on the door.

“I made coffee if you’re interested, which I know you are.”

“Cool! Thanks!” you said freeing yourself from Eren’s grip.

You sat at the edge of the bed and tried to make yourself presentable. Eren sighed.

“I’m surprised he didn’t barge in.”

Eren got off the bed and handed you your robe.

“Is that something he would do?” you asked, pulling it on.

Eren shrugged even though he definitely had an inkling as to why Zeke would do such a thing. It occurred to you to press him for more details, but you wanted today to be normal. You wanted a normal hike to Pfeiffer Falls, one that would end with you all sitting on the ground eating granola bars, complaining about the lack of bathrooms.

That night you all opted to have a quieter evening watching television mindlessly. You were sitting on the couch, wedged between Eren and Zeke. A bottle of port that Eren bought earlier that day sat half empty on the table.

You were all rather exhausted from the hike. Eren rested his head on your shoulder, his hair still wet from his shower. He was shirtless, as per usual, and wearing light grey sweatpants that left little to the imagination. It was almost like he was actively trying to seduce you. Zeke however seemingly took a more casual approach, though just as obnoxious. He wore a simple, fitted white t-shirt and pajama pants that looked like they were made from the floral wallpaper of a dentist’s office in 1996. You opted once more for a nightgown.

“More wine?” Zeke asked, grabbing the bottle off the table and filling his glass to the brim.

“Ugh, no,” Eren responded.

“And the lady?”

“She says no too.” Eren punctuated his sentence with a pout.

“As much as I hate Eren speaking for me, I have to agree. I’m good for now.”

“Suit yourselves,” Zeke said, taking a sip from his glass.

You tried to focus on the TV. You hoped the calming voice of David Attenborough and clumsy penguins would distract you. Zeke glanced over at you with a slight smile on his face. His rested his hand on your thigh, giving it little squeeze. His hand trailed up, stopping once he was near your vulva. Eren quickly looked over and gasped.

“Wow!”

“What? Come on, Eren. Can’t I have some fun while you guys are here?”

“This isn’t what we agreed on,” Eren said.

You pivoted towards Eren, face growing hotter by the second.

“What… did you agree on?”

“Nothing,” they said in unison.

Zeke squeezed your thigh again, you turned towards him.

“You’re into it, huh? You seemed pretty turned on watching me jerk off last night.”

“You what?!”

“Eren, relax. She liked it. Isn’t that right?”

Zeke placed his hand on your cheek and kissed you deeply but it was over before you knew it. Eren was seething.

“Come here,” Eren seethed.

Eren grabbed your face and shoved his tongue down your throat. There was a level of desperation to his kiss, like he was trying to prove something, show you how devoted he was. His tongue glided against yours and he tangled his fingers in your hair. He took your hand and placed it on his hard cock. You massaged to tip causing Eren to moan ever so slightly.

“F—fuck,” he choked out.

“Alright! Well, you two have fun,” Zeke teased.

He got up and walked out into the yard, lighting up a cigarette.

You pulled down Eren’s sweatpants and started to stroke his cock. He had his green eyes fixed on you while he panted.

“Want a blowjob?” you asked playfully.

“Please,” he begged.

You leaned over and licked the tip of his cock. You glanced up at him and he looked like he was in a daze, suspended in utter disbelief.

“S—so good, baby.”

Baby. You never dreamed he’d call you something other than dude. You breathed through your nose and gradually swallowed more and more of his cock, pausing once you got the entirety of it in your mouth. You looked up at him, eyes watering.

“I’ve been waiting so long for this,” he cooed.

Eren pushed your head further down on his throbbing erection. You let him facefuck you as a deluge of drool exited your mouth. You choked, causing Eren to pull you off his cock by your hair.

“You okay?” he asked, eyes still plagued with lust.

You went to answer but noticed Zeke was standing outside, watching you two through the window. He was laughing his ass off, clearly he had seen everything. Eren looked over at him and rolled his eyes.

“We can just ignore him,” he muttered.

You resumed sucking Eren’s cock. His hips bucked against your face, each thrust filling your mouth with more of his cum. He moaned loudly, not making any attempt to quiet himself. You happily swallowed every drop you milked from his cock. Once you finished you looked up at Eren, praying for praise. He smiled.

“I’m in awe of you and your skill.”

He stroked your face and gave you a small peck on the lips.

“Are you guys decent?” Zeke asked, opening the door a crack.

Eren sat there with his semi-hard dick hanging out.

“Yeah,” he responded.

You pulled Eren’s sweatpants up. Zeke strolled over and took his seat next to you.

He put his arm around your shoulder and whispered in your ear, “Great form by the way, even if you nearly choked.”

Eren sat in silence, blushing like crazy. He fidgeted a little. Zeke leaned forward to look at Eren.

“You really should be gentler with her.”

“I know!”

Zeke turned his attention back to you.

“So do you want to fuck or?”

You didn’t expect him to be so forward. You looked at Eren, not sure how to answer.

“I don’t care, do what you want,” he said, getting off the couch and retreating to his room.

Zeke lifted you onto his lap. He pulled your nightgown over your head, revealing your breasts. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him. He cradled your face in his hands while your tongue collided with his. His mouth tasted like tobacco and wine. He pulled his cock out of his pants and rubbed up against your clothed clit. You pushed your underwear to the side and slid Zeke’s cock inside you.

“That’s a good girl,” he said, as he started to thrust.

“F—f—feels so good.”

He slowly plunged his cock inside you, his gaze fixed on you, taking in every wince and gasp you let out. You held onto him, relishing in him stretching you out. His cock felt divine as it throbbed within you.

“Do you mind if I pick up the pace a little?” he asked with a velvety tone.

You nodded and Zeke immediately started to fuck you like the world was ending. He pounded his cock into your cunt with no mercy. You cried out as he slammed against your cervix, the pain shooting up through your core. Your breathing labored as he continued to thrust harder and harder. You dug your nails into his shoulders, and moaned his name. Your orgasm inched closer and closer.

“Call for Eren to come out here.”

“What?! No,” you said, bobbing up and down on Zeke’s cock.

“Do it. Or I won’t let you come.”

“But,” you whined.

“Be a good girl and I’ll reward you.”

You sighed as Zeke immobilized you on his cock. You squirmed around, hoping to pleasure yourself. It was a thankless task. You resigned yourself to what was going to happen.

“Hey, Eren,” you shouted.

Zeke started to fuck you again. Eren cracked open his door and peeked his head out.

“Yeah? Oh, you guys are still going at it.”

Just as he went to shut the door, Zeke called out to him.

“Come spit in her mouth. You know, as punishment for being a slut or something. I don’t know, I didn’t really think about it,” he said, bottoming out in you.

Your eyes widened. Eren strolled out of his room with a blanket wrapped around him. Zeke pulled on your hair, cranking your neck back. You stared up at the ceiling until Eren came into view. He stood over you, gazing down at your breasts.

“Hi,” you said awkwardly. Zeke’s cock was still pulsating inside you.

“Open wide,” Eren said, as he carefully spit in your mouth.

Lucky for you it didn’t taste like much, maybe a tad sweet if anything. Zeke let go of your hair as Eren wandered back off to his room. This time he didn’t shut the door all the way.

“You’re so obedient,” Zeke said as he resumed fucking you.

He kissed your neck, beard tickling your skin, as you were overcome with pleasure. You tried to stifle your moans but it was no use. Your orgasm radiated throughout your body. Volume control was no longer an option. You wondered what Eren was doing right now. Was he listening? Was he into it? Or was he just going along with it, all the while harboring some deep seated resentment towards you and Zeke?

Zeke finished inside you with little fanfare. He lifted you off his cock and got up off the couch.

“Are… you going to bed?” you asked, wondering if he’d invite you to sleep next to him. You looked around for your nightgown.

“Probably, why?”

“I wanted to—”

“Go cuddle with Eren. He’ll be crabby if you don’t.”

Zeke walked away, shutting his bedroom door. You stood there, cold and naked, unable to find your clothes.

“Hey.”

You turned around and it was Eren. He came towards you and wrapped you up in the blanket that he was previously bundled up in.

“Sorry for spitting in your mouth,” he said sheepishly.

“It’s… okay.”

“Did you like it?”

“I—I did.”

Eren cleared his throat.

“I, uh, did too. It involving, you know, Zeke was… something.”

“Are you, like, okay with all this?”

He scratched the back of his head.

“I think so. I mean, I don’t hate it. It’s… weird. But I… I mean, look at you. I can see why he is,” Eren struggled to find the right words, “into you.”

You smiled at his nervousness.

“You can see why? Are you into me?

“You just swallowed my jizz. Of course I’m at least kinda into you.”

He gave you a noogie, harkening back to the days when you were rambunctious kids. He led you to his room and you collapsed on the bed with him. He sprawled out almost immediately; he went full starfish. His brown locks laid around him on his pillow like a halo. You cuddled up next to his side and he wrapped an arm around you. You held your head to his chest; his skin was warm. It was welcoming, it felt like home. You craved familiarity after something so strange had occurred. You drifted off listening to the waves crashing against the cliffs.

It was a lazy morning the next day. Eren was draped over the couch like pashmina. You were planted next to him, with Zeke on the floor between your legs. A Chemex sat on the coffee table, brewing at a snail’s pace.

“Why don’t you just get a normal coffee pot?” Eren asked, his hand pressed to his forehead giving the question a certain dramatic flair.

“Come on, look at it.” Zeke gestured towards it. “Don Draper had one.”

“Who the hell is Don Draper?”

“Main character from Mad Men,” you answered.

Eren rolled his eyes. “Ew. My mom watched that show.”

“Your mom has good taste,” you said, playfully grabbing Eren’s foot.

“No, she doesn’t. Look who she’s married to,” Zeke quipped.

Eren perked up and glared at him.

“Don’t talk about my mom.”

“What are you going to do if I—ow!” You flicked the back of Zeke’s head.

“It’s too early for this,” you chided.

The brothers sighed and ceased their nonsense. You noticed the coffee was done and poured it into the three mugs on the table. Eren and Zeke groaned in unison as they reached for them, as if they were in excruciating pain from such a minor movement.

“Have we decided what we wanna do today?” Eren asked, cautiously sipping his coffee.

“We could take a boat to McWay Falls,” you suggested.

“I hate boats, dude.”

“We could fuck,” Zeke chimed in.

You and Eren nearly choked on your coffee.

“You,” Zeke gestured towards you. “We could fuck you. I didn’t think I needed to specify that. Didn’t realize you were a couple of degenerates that think I would fuck my brother.”

“How, uh, does that sound?” Eren asked, nudging you with his foot.

Your cunt was throbbing at the mere thought; it was hard to think straight, to articulate something coherent. You would have been lying if you tried to say it hadn’t crossed your mind. You were curious as to what it’d be like to have both of them worshiping your body, their hands roaming all over you.

“I—I could be down for that.”

Zeke turned around and started to pull down your pajama shorts, wasting no time. He peeled off your underwear, soaked with your juices.

“It doesn’t take much to get you going, does it?” Zeke asked with a devilish grin on his face.

He kissed the inside of your thighs. His beard tickled your skin; you couldn’t help but tremble. You ran your fingers through his hair as dragged his tongue along your cunt, prodding its entrance. You tossed your head back and moaned. Eren crawled over to you. He pulled off his shirt, revealing his chiseled abs. He held your face in his rough hands and started to make out with you. You happily welcomed his tongue, rolling it against his. He shoved his hand under your shirt, groping you.

Zeke sucked on your clit; you could hear him faintly moaning as he did so. You savored the indecent noises he made as he lapped at your wet cunt.

“Are you having fun?” Eren asked, stroking your cheek.

“Y—yes,” you said, trying to maintain composure.

“Good,” he replied, lifting up your shirt and tossing it to the side.

Eren started to suck on your breast, tracing his tongue around your pert nipple. You moaned loudly, resigning yourself to the debauchery taking place. Zeke nibbled on your labia; you instinctively shut your legs, pressing his face between your thighs. He groaned and pushed your legs apart, his rough hands gripping you hard enough to bruise.

“Didn’t like that, huh?” He asked, adjusting his glasses.

“It was su—surprising. I w—wasn’t expecting it.”

You looked over at Eren and noticed a wet spot growing on the crotch of his sweatpants. He kept sucking on your nipple, his eyes closed in ecstasy.

“You might as well fuck him.”

“Huh?”

“Eren. I mean, look at him. Could he be more pathetic?”

“Go fuck yourself,” Eren said, his breath balmy against your breast.

“I’d rather be fucking her.”

“If anyone gets to fuck her it’s me; you already had your turn.”

Zeke rubbed your clit with his thumb.

“Are you jealous? I wouldn’t blame you if you were. You should have seen her, she was practically trembling on my dick. Weren’t you?”

A muted “mhm” was all you could manage. Eren furrowed his brow and grabbed your wrist.

“Can I?”

“Please,” you said, starry-eyed.

“Get on your hands and knees, now.”

You glared at him. Eren’s authoritative tone gave way to one you were more familiar with.

“Get on your hands and knees now, please?”

 Zeke let go of you and you did as you were told. You snickered as Eren positioned himself behind you. He slapped his cock against your cunt. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, drunk on the stinging pain it left behind. Zeke patted your head as he slowly stroked his cock. His breath hitched as he palmed his tip, his hips gently bucking against his hand. He stared down at you, eyes half-lidded. You met his gaze, his eyes full of desire. He took his cock and brushed the tip against your lips leaving them glossy with precum. You went to open your mouth, anticipating his cock, but he pulled it away just as it was in your reach.

“Don’t tease her,” Eren growled.

“Fine.”

You opened your mouth only for it to remain empty.

“This… this is kind of weird, isn’t it?” Zeke mused.

Eren slid this cock into your cunt with total ease. He grunted as you tightened around him.

“It’s not that weird. She’s in between us, it’s fine. Just like you’ve been saying.”

“Uh.”

“I know but I didn’t really think hard enough about it,” Zeke said, tacking on a nervous laugh.

“Uh?!” You said with more urgency.

“What?” Zeke asked, his tone bristling with annoyance.

“Was this your plan the whole time?”

“Not the whole time,” Eren panicked. “It was that night at dinner. We—we talked about it as a joke.”

“Are you backing out, Eren?”

“No, if anything you are. I’m already inside her,” Eren sniped.

Eren thrusted furiously. His cock slammed against your cervix as he drove himself deeper and deeper inside you. You looked up at Zeke and grabbed his cock. You thumbed the tip.

“You know you wanna fuck my mouth, Zeke,” you teased.

“What makes you so sure?”

“I—fuck! Eren!”

Eren smacked your ass, the shock reverberating through your body. Zeke laughed and slid his cock into your mouth. He held onto your head as he thrust in and out.

“You’re too good at this,” Zeke moaned.

“It’s kinda surprising, baby,” Eren said.

Eren dug his nails into your hips as he thrusted away, his balls clapping against your taint. His cock pulsed inside you as he grunted. Zeke continued fucking your throat. Both of their cocks were thicker than you were used to taking. You moaned as your body was in the throes of an orgasm. You would have collapsed had they not been holding you up.

“I’m close. Like really close,” Eren said through his teeth.

“Pull out, I have an idea.”

Eren and Zeke removed their cocks from you.

“Knees,” Zeke commanded.

You got on your knees and opened your mouth. You weren’t stupid; you knew where they were going with this. They started jerking off. You gazed up at them, totally fucked out. Eren came first and his cum landed perfectly on your tongue. It dripped down your chest as you sloppily swallowed it.

“Sh—shit,” Zeke sputtered as he painted you white with his load. Your cheek was dappled with his cum.

“Did it get in your eye?” he asked, voice tinged with concern.

“No, I would be screaming and calling the fire department if you did that.”

Eren grabbed his sweatpants off the floor and gingerly cleaned you up.

“I’d say let’s all shower but that’s a little much even for me,” Zeke said, getting off the couch. “You two have fun, don’t get too crazy.”

Eren lifted you off the couch and bridal carried you to his room.

“I can’t believe we did that,” you said, tucking a lock of his hair behind his ear.

He beamed down at you. “Me neither. You’re, uh, down to again, right?”

You laughed. “I mean, we’re here for a week. What else are we gonna do? Hike every day? Pick sand out of our asses?”

[reasonsforhope]

"In Washington D.C., a sophisticated sewage treatment plant is turning the capital’s waste into a form of capital: living capital that is fertilizing the gardens of farms of the Mid-Atlantic region and saving vast quantities of resources.

Described by the workers’ there as a “resource recovery plant,” D.C. Water run a biogas plant and high-quality fertilizer production in the course of their dirty duty to ensure the city’s waste finds a safe endpoint.

The nation’s capital is exceptional at producing waste from the toilet bowls of the 2.2 million people who live, work, and commute through the city and its suburbs.

Reporting by Lina Zeldovich reveals that rather than trucking it all to a landfill, D.C. Water extract an awful lot of value from the capital crap, by looking at it as a resource to send through the world’s largest advanced wastewater treatment plant, which uses a “thermal hydrolysis process” in which it is sterilized, broken down, and shipped off for processing into “Bloom,” a nitrogen-rich, slow-release fertilizer product. 

The other “Black Gold”

At their facility in southwest Washington, huge aeration tanks percolate the poo of everyone from tourists to the President. After it’s all fed into enormous pressure cookers where, under the gravity of six earth atmospheres and 300°F, the vast black sludge is rendered harmless.

Next this “Black Gold,” as Zeldovich described it, is pumped into massive bacterial-rich tanks where microbes breakdown large molecules like fats, proteins, and carbs into smaller components, shrinking the overall tonnage of sewage to 450 tons per day down from 1,100 at the start of the process.

This mass-micro-munching also produces methane, which when fed into an onsite turbine, generates a whopping 10 megawatts of green energy which can power 8,000 nearby homes. [Note: Natural gas (which is mostly methane) is definitely greener than coal and oil, but it still causes a significant amount of emissions and greenhouse gases.] The 450 tons of remaining waste from the D.C. feces are sent into another room where conveyor belts ring out excess fluid before feeding it through large rollers which squash it into small congregate chunks.

D.C. Water sends this to another company called Homestead Gardens for drying, aging, and packaging before it’s sold as Bloom.

“I grow everything with it, squashes, tomatoes, eggplants,” Bill Brower, one of the plant’s engineers, tells Zeldovich. “Everything grows great and tastes great,” he adds.

“And I’m not the only one who thinks so. We’ve heard from a lot of people that they’ve got the best response they’ve ever seen from the plants. Particularly with leafy greens because that nitrogen boost does well with leafy plants. And the plants seem to have fewer diseases and fewer pests around—probably because Bloom helps build healthy soils.”

While farms around the country are facing nutrient depletion in soils from over-farming, turning to synthetic fertilizers to make up the difference, introducing more such thermal hydrolysis plants could truly revolutionize the way humans look at their feces—as a way of restoring the country’s soils rather than polluting them. As Mike Rowe would say, it only takes a person who’s willing to get their hands dirty."

-via Good News Network, November 23, 2021

Note: You can buy this fertilizer yourself here!

[fantabulisticity]

If you can drive or afford a car, you may not understand what it’s like to rely on walking, rolling, transit and asking for rides. But for nearly a third of people living in the United States – people with disabilities, young people, seniors and people who can’t afford cars or gas – this is our every day.  We created the Week Without Driving challenge so that those who have the option to drive can learn firsthand about the barriers and challenges that nondrivers face and work with nondrivers to create more accessible communities for all.  How Does The Challenge Work? Every Trip Counts You can get around however you want, but the challenge is not to drive yourself in any car. This applies to all your activities — not just your work commute. If you normally transport other family members or friends, it applies to those trips too.  Asking or Paying for Rides You can ask someone else to drive you, but make a note of how much you “owe” this person in their time, and if you felt obligated to support them in other ways (ie, doing all the dishes). You can ride hail or taxis if they exist where you need to go, but again, think about how the cost could impact your decision to take this trip if this was regularly your only option.  Who Has Choices, What Are Your Choices? This isn’t a disability simulation or a test of how easily you can find alternatives. We know that it is far easier to give up your keys if you can afford to live in a walkable area well served by transit, or can outsource your driving and other transport and delivery needs to other people. It’s Okay to Drive – But Reflect What That Means for Nondrivers Having to drive during the challenge does not signify failure. Sometimes the best reflection comes when someone participating in the challenge has to drive. The point is to consider how someone without that option would have coped, and what choices they might have made. IMPACT “This week was a reminder that mobility is a human right. And it’s also a reminder that so many people in our region are excluded from this right, simply because driving for them is not an option.” — Girmay Zahilay, King County Councilmember, Washington State Where Did The Challenge Come from? The #WeekWithoutDriving challenge was launched in 2021 by Anna Zivarts at Disability Rights Washington. After two successful years, in 2023 in partnership with America Walks we took the Week Without Driving national. More than 142 organizations across 41 states and the District of Columbia joined the challenge in 2023 and we’re already organizing so the 2024 challenge will be even bigger!

And here is a survey by the Sierra Club to say how you'd like your local transportation options improved!

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: JLCederblom

Published: Apr 30, 2024

One of the most basic errors you would expect to be caught in peer-reviewed academic literature is plain data errors. They require no real expertise to catch and tend to be trivial to fix. It’s simply part of regular proof reading that any serious article of any sort should undergo.

So why are papers on transition regret rife with ridiculous errors, such as inventing thousands of people out of thin air? And why do those errors occur in the first place?

Let’s have a look at the latest in a long line of peer-reviewed garbage: “A Systematic Review of Patient Regret After Surgery- A Common Phenomenon in Many Specialties but Rare Within Gender-Affirmation Surgery” by Thornton et al.

This piece self-identifies as a systematic review, which it simply isn’t, but that’s rather technical (and, dare I say, academic) compared to the grievous errors in the paper, and will require some back-and-forth with the journal. Going over all of that in detail will take time and isn’t that interesting — although if the paper does get corrected or retracted, it’ll likely be due to such procedural issues rather than overarching problems.

While many individuals report satisfaction and improved measures of mental health after undergoing gender affirming surgery, there is a small but vocal minority who experience regret after their procedures.⁴ De-transitioning, also known as continued gender transition, has been exhaustively covered in the mainstream and conservative media and is an emerging area of study in gender affirming care.

The paper also has a rather noticeable disdain for the subject matter and a clear agenda with the goal of minimizing transition regret as a niche, “exhaustively covered” issue, championed by a “small” but unnecessarily “vocal” group.

Let’s have a look at the sources the paper cites for the rate of regret.

* * *

First up: Wiepjes et al., 2018.

A study performed in Amsterdam retrospectively examined 6,793 patients who attended a gender identity clinic in Amsterdam from 1972 to 2015 and found 0.6% and 0.3% of transwomen and transmen reported experiencing regret after gender affirming surgery, respectively. The authors noted that reasons for regret could be divided into three categories. True regret was defined as regretting having GAS. Social regret involved losing touch with loved ones or being fired from a job because of GAS. Lastly, some participants reported feeling non-binary and no longer feeling satisfied with their surgical result. Average time to experiencing regret was 130 months (more than 10 years) post-operatively.³⁰

This is simply erroneous. The authors make the claim that Wiepjes et al., 2018, measured reports of “experiencing regret after gender affirming surgery”. This is false, as the study first required hormonal detransition, the cessation of cross-sex hormone treatment and going back on your natal sex hormones, at the same clinic. Every time the authors describe this as only measuring “experienced regret” they are not being truthful.

In addition, the number who were investigated for this rather specific definition of regret was not 6,793 but 2,627. I’m not sure what the exact purpose of putting the number of people who visited the clinic, including those who never transitioned whatsoever, is but it certainly inflates the number.

You might ask yourself how it’s possible that the authors read Wiepjes et al., 2018, but did not manage to understand what was investigated, nor how many people were looked at. The most likely answer, to me at least, is that none of the authors, peer reviewers, or editors, actually read the paper.

* * *

Next up: Bustos et al., 2021. If you need a primer on this, I’ve written about it before.

In 2021, a systematic review and meta-analysis was completed which assessed 27 studies, including a total of 7,928 transgender individuals. One third of the included individuals underwent transmasculine procedures, while the remaining two thirds underwent transfeminine procedures. Of the 7,928 individuals included in the analysis, 1.0% expressed regret. The most common reason for post-operative regret was “difficulty/dissatisfaction in life with the new gender role.” Another common reason was failure of surgery to achieve their aesthetic surgical goals. The authors hypothesized that the rate of regret established by this metanalysis was lower than a previously established rate from 1993 due to increased rigor in the selection process before gender affirming surgery.

Bustos et al., 2021, pulls together all the greatest hits of gender pseudoscience: erroneous data, fraudulent methods, zero peer-review, irresponsibility (or perhaps hostility) from the journal, and more. It’s a paper where the factual error count is in the triple digits to this day.

However, after wrangling the arms of the journal editors a bit, they put out a partial correction (where they actually introduced some new errors as well as fixed a handful). The lowest possible bar you could hold the authors against in this 2024 paper is that they used that 2022 “correction.”

Of course they didn’t.

An inability to even copy and paste numbers is what we’re dealing with here. From the entire chain, authors through editors. It ties into the previous paper as well—if Thornton et al. had read Wiepjes et al., 2018, they would be entirely equipped to see through Bustos et al., which makes the exact same nonsensical mistakes they did.

I would provide an exact number instead of 7,928 here, but it’s not actually possible to do that because one of the included papers reports contradictory numbers, which Bustos et al. didn’t mention or, more likely, even notice. Another provides an estimate rather than exact figures. They also included papers which did not investigate a regret rate in the review, which is just bizarre.

Either way, out of the claimed 7,928 people, at least 3,400 were not investigated for regret in any way. As previously mentioned another 2,627 had a requirement that you had to hormonally detransition in order to count as regretful. Another didn’t measure regret at all, simply legal sex marker reversals. If you go through the papers and add up the number of people who were explicitly asked about regrets (in any way) you get around 1,300. With unknown loss to follow-up, often very short follow-up, and no uniformity to the way they were asked.

Which apparently to Thornton et al., the peer-reviewers, and the journal editors, is enough to conclusively state that we know the rate of transition regret.

* * *

Next up is Narayan et al., 2021, which was a combined survey and systematic review. See if you can spot the sleight of hand.

Another study surveyed all surgeons registered for the 2016 World Professional Association for Transgender Health and the 2017 US Professional Association for Transgender Health. Most respondents practiced in the United States and had surgically treated at least 100 transgender or gender-nonconforming patients. Of the 30% of surgeons that completed the survey, 61% respondents had treated at least one patient who experienced regret or requested reversal of a procedure. Overall, the calculated rate of regret after gender affirming surgery was 0.2%-0.3%. Of the 62 patients that respondents reported had sought reversal surgery, reasons for reversal included surgical complications, continued evolution of their gender identity, rejection or alienation from social support, and difficulty in romantic relationships.⁵

An anonymous survey of WPATH or USPATH conference attendants with 70 percent non-respondents (fairly catastrophic given the population), asking them to estimate the number of patients they’ve surgically transitioned (somewhere between 18,125 and 27,325) and how many patients they’ve “encountered” (meaning what?) who “regretted their gender transition” (open for a wide range of interpretations) is not a very serious approach.

The paper sometimes treats “regret,” “reversal request,” and “detransition” as the same thing, sometimes not. The authors (both Narayan et al. and Thornton et al.) seem very confused about what the respondents were actually talking about. Usually, when you’re confused, the right thing to do is to slow down and work it out. Not to take the decision to treat 62 patients seeking surgical reversal as “the regret rate”—which is absurd, and reveals the authors’ intellectual, or rather emotional, bias towards presenting as low a number as possible.

* * *

Next up is Bruce et al., 2023.

Recently, research from the University of Michigan demonstrated low levels of regret after gender-affirming mastectomy in a cross-sectional study. On average, respondents underwent surgery 3.6 years before the survey. The median Decision Regret Scale score was 0.0. Further, of the 139 respondents, zero requested reversal procedures.³²

The respondents certainly reported low decision regret. Of course, 3.6 year mean follow-up is less than most studies put the average time to regret at, and a 40 percent non-response rate is… an issue. It’s also exclusively following mastectomy, and that this often provides (at least) short term relief from breast-related distress seem highly plausible.

If Thornton et al. was a systematic review rather than a literature review with a (very poor) systematic search, these issues would be explored and Bruce et al. would take its rightful place as low quality evidence for potential short term benefits. Presenting it as evidence of a low regret rate, however, is ridiculous.

On a side note, Bruce et al. also cites erroneous data from Bustos et al., this time regarding follow-up times rather than sample sizes. It truly is the gift that keeps giving in terms of academic misinformation.

* * *

The final thing referenced is the 2022 USTS Early Insight report.

In February 2024, the 2022 US Transgender Survey Early Insight report was published, providing data from 92,329 binary and nonbinary transgender people. This report noted that 97% of respondents who had undergone gender-affirming surgery reported that they were “a lot more satisfied” or “a little more satisfied” with their lives.³³

This was an anonymous online survey recruiting participants via advocacy groups, and described as “a survey for trans people, by trans people.”

When Thornton et al. describe it as “92,329 binary and nonbinary transgender people” they actually get that wrong as well, as the report describes it as “38% nonbinary, 35% transgender women, 25% transgender men, and 2% crossdressers.” This may seem like nitpicking, but it actually describes the inconsistencies of the worldview that Thornton et al. champion.

Other than poking fun at them, there isn’t much more to say here. The Early Insight report doesn’t discuss regret, which is why they didn’t claim it did. Which would make it odd that they put it under the heading “Regret After Gender-Affirming Surgery” if you’re operating under the assumption that Thornton et al. are writing an academic paper, but that’s clearly not the intention.

* * *

Human writing has many purposes. The most obvious is communication, to convey thoughts and ideas to others. But we also do it for fun, or to assist ourselves, to organize our thoughts, all sorts of ways. Academic papers of this sort, however, are supposed to have a single purpose: to inform others.

When people write falsehoods, figuring out why they do so is interesting. It tells us something about them. For example, when Thornton et al. repeat erroneous data about papers, it tells us that they didn’t care. Despite using emotive language about regret, it tells us that they don’t care enough about the reality of regret to even read a six page paper (a very low bar), but they were happy to write a paper about it.

So why did they write this paper, despite not caring about the topic?

Research on regret after gender-affirming surgery poses unique challenges, as patients may fear that their regret could be weaponized against the transgender community. Those who seek to limit access to GAS often use regret as a key element in their arguments and in proposed legislation.

The aim of Thornton et al. appears to be to muddy the waters and push their own narrative, as the errors are not random but rather all go in the same direction. They are concerned with the consequences of regret, not regret itself. They simply aimed to distract people, and to breathe some new life into old misinformation, and they accomplished that.

There’s a steady stream of blatant garbage flowing through journals in this field. It’s not the replication crisis of science at large, or publication bias, and it’s not about large scale matters out of control—although structural vulnerabilities in the publishing process of journals is of course an issue.

In the end it comes down to emotionally driven choices by the individuals involved allowing falsehoods to be printed. The paper is a thinly veiled ideological document masquerading as science, but whether it highlights the complicity or just the illiteracy of the peer-reviewers and editors is yet to be determined.

*This article was originally published on JLCederblom’s blog on Medium.

==

They don't care about protecting people, they only care about protecting the cult. The point is to portray the cult as infallible, that the dogma and the doctrine is never wrong, it's only the members following the doctrine and dogma that are wrong. They don't have enough faith. They were never a true Scotsman. All the usual stuff.

[spookitapes]

-double trouble.

summary | levi's ackerman has been acting weird. everyone can notice the difference in him, even connie the gas station clerk near levi's house was in shock from the smile gracing the usually grim ackerman's face. 30 minutes later he heads out for a smoke break and spots the town's dealer bending the pastor's daughter over his all black 2021 camaro zl1, all while the sheriff's son and connie's co-worker– eren jaeger, stands on the other side of the hood harshly fucking his fist with a lit blunt going in the other. 

pairing | plug!levi x pastor's daughter!black!fem!reader x gas station clerk!sheriff's son!eren ft. gas station clerk!connie 

warnings/cw | smut, angst, fluff, switch reader (first time topping), switch levi, dom eren, mfm poly relationship, mxm, fxm, drug usage (weed), double penetration, anal, dirty talk, fingering, nipple sucking, doggy style, riding big dick, secret relationship, cockwarming, recording sex, fucking in public, getting caught/voyeurism/exhibitionism, humiliation, praise, degradation, minor blood kink, face slapping (once or twice), oral(m receiving), jealous!eren, jealous!levi, bratty!reader

wordcount | 5.8k 

not proofread, sorry for any mistakes !!

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────────

"what flavor you want, baby?" levi asks as he puts the car in park in front of the familiar mini-mart. 

"mmm surprise me! i heard they came out with a few new limited edition flavors in the white owls, but you know i will never complain if you get a game, love. just get whatever sounds good," you lean over and kiss him quickly before he gets out to purchase the rillos and grab eren from his shift. 

you've all been so reckless lately, but it's been sooo worth it. levi and eren hate having to keep the relationship a secret, but you remind them constantly of the hostility between all of your families. even in your twenties, your father forbids you from being seen with either of the men. he tries to beat it in your head that you have a reputation to uphold, that you can't allow yourself to be seen with 'criminal junkies' like levi or a 'piece of shit dropout' like eren. that you can't get caught up in that lifestyle…and you've always followed the rules– until you were old enough to sneak around and not get caught. it all started with you hitting up levi for a 3.5, wanting to try smoking after finally moving into your own place– far, far away from your parent's prying eyes…which is why they definitely didn't know about your roommate or more importantly, your choice in a roommate– eren. 

after searching for months and months around town for an affordable house for rent, you find a place that reaches all your requirements, with the exception you'd have to share the house with someone else. but you kind of liked the idea of a roomie, especially after walking in and being graced with the sight of eren jaeger half-naked and dripping wet in your brand-new living room. your eyes bulging out of your head as you try to commit the image to memory foreveeer.

of course your thirsty ass don't even notice him smirking at you checking him out, basking under your gaze and letting you get your spank bank material before he got an idea. his hands start to slide down to the towel hanging around his waist, your eyes following them but redirecting to the water droplets rolling down his lower stomach and past his vline until your eyes got even wider– turning your body around and letting apologies fly past your lips. your horny lil gremlin on the inside was cussing you out for turning around before getting a glimpse of the gorgeous man's cock, especially when he was the one stripping like that for free…you subconsciously start biting your lip, thinking of how the imprint was rather..large..like that thang was heavy and long— and oh my god why are you thinking of eren's most likely pretty dick ?! you don't even get to keep debating with yourself before you feel a presence behind you, pulling you back into his frame as he closes the door. you don't dare move, just relish in the feeling of his dick pressing up against your ass. oh yeah, he's big. 

eren just chuckles to himself, turning you around before speaking,

"your room is the one by the patio doors, across from the fridge, angel."

"don't call me that, jaeger," you scoff. quickly backing yourself out of his personal space. 

"i remember you liking it before or what? correct me if im wrong, angel, go right ahead."

you just roll your eyes and give him a little huff before storming off to find your room. he knows what that name means between you two. how he use to call you that back in school, well before he dropped out. before he ran away and had the whole town looking for him and that's including you. he left you without a word, without a trace if he was alive. the weeks of heartache turned into months of grieving, but you weren't grieving his life: you were grieving your relationship, your time spent on him, and the time you'll never get to waste on him. the walls you let down, and the bricks you'd have to pick back up to rebuild that barrier around your heart. 

eren was your first love. the first boy to ever really– see you. he's your first kiss and the first person to make you get butterflies in your tummy. the first boy to call you beautiful and stay up all night on the phone just to hear your voice. you wanted to believe you had a strong wall rebuilt when he finally came back, but you didn't. not when you saw his long hair and tattoos– you just find him more attractive, but the sad angry look adorning his face made the hardened shell around your heart start to crack..and it starts chipping away a little more every time you see him around town. you want to see his beautiful smile again, even if was from a distance, but you still knew better than to be the first one to reconcile..so you two haven't talked since the whole ordeal went down, just the glances exchanged in passing from time to time. who are you kidding it's not glancing, you two be staring at each other from across the street like no one's business. 

when you're finally in the comfort of your room, finding it rather quickly, you start unpacking trying to destress…but that doesn't work. your nerves are shot and you're mad at yourself for letting eren get you that flustered like you're a teenager again. it's infuriating and making your brain hurt, so what do you decide on? levi. 

only problem is, you don't have a car..and levi very famously is not mobile this late. you're not taking another taxi at this time of night, so you suck up your pride in favor of mind-numbing bliss and go to ask eren for a ride. your palms start sweating as you twist the doorknob, and you slowly inch toward the living room where you left your ex. you spot him and freeze, but he quickly notices you and pauses the tv.

"what's up with you, y/n? thought you were gonna go pout in your room?" 

"god, you're such an ass, eren..but i'll bite back my insults for now because, uh..i actually need to ask you a favor."

"go head and ask then."

"can you please take me to levi's place? i'll smoke you out and buy us milkshakes after?" 

eren can't help but give in to the hopeful look in your eyes, pleading for him to take you. so he sighs and runs a hand through his semi-dried locks before standing up and stretching. 

"go get your fucking shoes on and hurry up then," he pushes you by the head as he walks by, making you stumble back a little. 

you flip him off behind his back while the smile on your face grows, yeah he's still whipped…and let's just say you two ended up smoking with levi, which turned into getting cross-faded, and that led to you three learning a lot about each other and each other's bodies oop. 

now it's six months later and you're officially all dating..after a lot of confusion and fucking and hiding feelings and more fucking..and ever since that first night, when they took your virginity, you've been dickmatized. every chance you get you're sucking or fucking one or both of them. hell, you even blew levi on the way to the mini-mart, swallowing his cum at the red light beside the gas station while rob zombie blasts through his speakers. he still hasn't told you about the lil drop of him that rests just on the corner of your mouth, in his mind, it'll be a nice little 'just got off of work snack' for eren. 

the ding of the automatic doors opening and closing alerts you, and just as you start getting impatient you see your men walking toward the car. you can't hide your excitement as you hop into the backseat to attack eren with kisses as soon as his door closes. his giggles fill the space as the engine roars to life and he tells levi to just pull around back. he's had a rough day and he just needs to smoke real quick and then they'll head home. so levi complies, stopping right out of view of the security camera where eren instructs him. 

"baby come sit with us, pleeassseee. know you like sitting up there, but wanna be close to you," your bottom lip juts out as your eyes get that look in them. 

"fine, but don't act like a bratty fucking slut. wait till we get back home or i'll drag you inside and fuck you right over the counter so connie can watch you cry for my cock and ruin that precious reputation along with that makeup of yours, understand?" 

"better listen to him sweetpea, sounds serious," eren chimes in as he finishes breaking the rillo open, dumping the guts out. "can i see the weed, babe?"

levi hands eren the bag before stepping out of the car, walking around to get on the other side of you in the backseat. you throw your legs across vi's lap, snuggling into eren's side while he rolls the blunt. 

"lev and i missed you soooo much," you release a big sigh you didn't realize you were holding in. "know it was only a 10-hour shift but i don't care..missed you so so much."

eren looks at you, wrapped up in his side all cozy and looking at him with those needy little eyes. he knows you missed him because he missed you and levi ten times more. he never hated going to his shifts more than when he finally had a reason to stay at home all day. 

"missed you guys, too. so so much, sweetpea. thought of you all day and even watched that pretty video levi sent me earlier of him edging you on break. you ever get to cum today, baby doll?"

"n-no." you barely whimper it out, and the duo in the car barely catch it.

"cause she was being a fucking bratty whore. you want me to tell him don't you? want me to tell him the nasty shit you do to get a rise out of me when he's not there? huh, sweetpea?" there's a special venom that attaches to the pet name when it spits out of levi's lips. 

the tears start to fill your eyes, you know now that he's brought it up eren's gonna find out. you can get away with a lot more when it comes to levi, not that he doesn't punish you..but you know better than to act up like that around eren. know better than to act like that without him there, too, but sometimes your pussy thinks waaaaay before your brain. 

"p-please don't lev! wh-why'd you even have to bring that up- what the fuck did you do?" eren's booming voice cuts you off. the now lit blunt going between his lips as he awaits a response from you..but you can't say anything, not when it comes to this. levi knows that, that's why he speaks up just as you let your tears fall; all while never breaking eye contact with ren. 

"locked herself in the bedroom and used the wand while screaming out connie's name. begging for him and saying how we can't fuck her like he can– not even close. when i got in she didn't even stop, just stared me in the eyes as she slide her fingers in our cunt. like she fucking owns it." he starts growling out his words near the end. eren cocks an eyebrow at you, taking one last puff before passing it to you. 

"so here's what's gonna happen, doll. you're gonna hit on that till you feel good, then your gonna suck this cock, kay? after you suck me dry imma have lev fuck you over the hood while daddy watches. after he cums in your greedy lil pussy i'm gonna make you take us both in this backseat. we're not going home till all your holes have been filled, baby."

you can't help the wet patch that grows in your panties, nodding your head while taking a drag, but next thing you know you're coughing. scrambling to catch your breath as eren's hand lands on your cheek, fingers moving down to lightly grip your neck.

"nah lemme hear you say it, bitch."

"i-i'm sorry! i'm sorry, wasn't thinking daddy! promise i'll behave..i'll be a good girl for you both, promise!" your thighs are clenching as he kisses your lips and releases your neck before bringing the blunt back to your lips.

"now go back to work so you can get to sucking my cock."

the weed levi gets is always good, but this shit is goooood! within a few deep inhales your mind is fuzzy, vision a little slowed as you pass it to levi and get eren's dick out while turning fully towards him. ass in the air facing levi as your front goes down to eye level with eren's cock. god he really does have a pretty dick, long and veiny with a prince albert piercing to compliment it. the sight always makes your mouth water, immediately giving him kitten licks on his tip and sucking up his precum. 

"don't you dare fucking tease me. now do it right before i fuck your throat, whore." with that, he shoves your head down to take more of his dick. you get the memo and apologize with a mouth full of cock before putting that work in. deepthroating him while keeping eye contact, playing with his balls. the groans leaving him are fueling you, making you bob your head faster, twirling your tongue around his shaft. you're interrupted by a moan when you feel levi scrunching your skirt up to your stomach from behind you, fingers playing with your soaked panties. you pull off eren's dick as the fingers push your panties aside and into your pussy. the pitiful sounds breaking into a scream when levi lets the blunt's cherry rest against your ass for a second.

"keep sucking and don't come back up unless it's to kiss lev with my cum in your fucking mouth, you understand me, y/n?" the look in his eyes is enough to convince you alone, so you say "yes sir 'm sorry!" before diving back down to gag on his cock like it's a sport. slurping on his balls until he's about to cum and then your favorite– using your tongue to play with his piercing until he's whimpering, and when he does finally cum you make sure not to swallow it all. coming up and reaching for levi, kissing him so hard and right in front of ren as he watches you push his cum into your boyfriend's mouth. levi's moaning and pulling you closer to bully his tongue into your mouth, making sure he gets every last drop from you..even sucking on your tongue before pulling away. 

"get the fuck out, can't take it anymore needa fuck you- can we, babe? please– gotta let me fuck her," levi starts whining. 

"go head darlin," eren's laughing under his breath at the needy tone of lev's voice, "bend her over and give her that pounding she's been craving."

with the permission, you're being pulled from the car, ass out and all with your skirt still up around your tummy. the cold night air nipping at your exposed skin, but the car's still warm as levi bends you over it, heating you up a little before he's ripping the drenched cloth from between your legs off your body. he lowers his body on top of yours, gripping your hair and forcing your head back to look at him. 

"you know i'll buy you as many pairs as your heart desires, so be a good girl don't give me no shit for these ones." letting out a huff before you open your mouth to scold him, you're interrupted by your own balled up torn panties being shoved down your throat as he slams your front back down onto the car. "you know for someone who spends so much time swallowing dick, you really do talk too much."

you're about to start throwing your hands back behind you, land a slap to the man who just humiliated you to the point your slick's running down your thighs..but that's when you hear eren's door open and close. counting the steps he takes before he's in your vision, right in front of you on the other side of the hood you're currently bent over. he looks so good, dick still hard and standing up out of his black jeans and boxers. the chain with you and levi's initials engraved near the clasp dangles from his neck, levi sporting a twinning bracelet adorning you and eren's initials, and that leaves you with an anklet that has tiny dangling letters– e & l, to match. you don't get to admire him long before levi's slapping your ass, positioning you to arch your back a little more before he slides into your pussy. he's going so slow, making you feel every inch of his heavenly thick dick. while eren's is a little longer, levi's cock is so wide it always ends the same way: your legs shaking with him between your legs.

"don't even think of fucking cumming without permission," his mouth is against your ear, biting at the lobe as he starts slamming his hips into your ass at a fast pace. the ambient sounds of the city are being drowned out by the slapping of skin and the noises leaving your mouths. you look back up at eren to find him fisting his cock while he keeps smoking, the hazy look taking over his eyes as he smiles at you. he reaches forward, taking the panties from your mouth to stuff them in his back pocket. 

"f-fuck sir, keep fucking me, please don't stop– pleasedontfuckingstooop!" your minds going numb, already starting to get cock drunk off the abuse your cunt's taking. the pitch of your voice is getting higher with each mindless babble you let slip from your lips. "im so wet sir, a-all for you! it-it's all over my t-thighs baby, FUUCKK!" 

"yeah i know you love this dick, baby, but don't worry i love this pussy even more. you think i don't know my pussy's weeping?" he's cruelly laughing at you as his thrusts get harder, "baby it's all over you? i'm fucking covered in it, this fucking dick is dripping in you. don't gotta tell me, love– i know, i know you're just a slutty little thing who needs her small brains fucked out her head, yeah?"

you're nodding along with him, agreeing as you rock your hips back to meet his. you're so caught up in the pleasure that you don't notice the sound of the back door of the mini-mart opening, connie stepping out for his smoke break. since it's pretty late and slowing down, he knows it's about time for the store's dead zone of no customers. now he's stuck in place, taking it all in as your moans float through the night to awaken his cock. his eyes meet with eren's, as the tattooed man takes one last drag from the roach before throwing it down and stomping it out on the asphalt. he doesn't alert you, and lets you keep acting like a slut while he makes eye contact with his boyfriend, who was already fucking into you harder under connie's gaze. like they're talking telepathically, the shared looks turn into smirks spreading on each other of your boyfriends' faces that read the same. 

"looks like you got yourself an audience, doll." 

your body gets stiff as your hips stutter to a stop. your mind racing on who it could be. you should be appalled. should be scrambling to cover your body and hiding your face so you aren't recognizable, but you don't. you should be sobbing over the reputation you've been taught to protect so hard, but you don't...and you definitely don't miss the way you tighten up at the thought of someone watching you…levi doesn't miss it either, and he sure as hell isn't letting you get away with it. 

"oh- naughty fucking s-slut! yeah she likes being watched, ren..can feel this slutty pussy squeezing me ever since you told her." levi's letting out uncontrollable sounds now, lost in your tight little pussy. he's pulling one of your legs up onto the hood, giving connie a clear view of your pussy getting dogged. it's getting too much for him, slipping his hand down his pants to relieve some of the pressure of his swollen dick against the confines. 

"nah, i want you to look at him. fucking looking at him, y/n!" eren's fucking his fist at the same intense pace that levi's slamming into you, the anger burning in his irises growing as he thinks of your words spoken about springer when he wasn't around. "look at your lil boyfriend while you get your guts rearranged."

you crane your neck back, trying to get a view of the person watching you get your back blown and you're met with none other than your ex-classmate and old youth group leader– connie springer. your eyes go wide at the sight, his hand down his pants while his chest heaves up and down looking at you in such a vulnerable state. you get so hot under his gaze, at the thought of him getting off to seeing you like this– all pliant and slutty for your daddies. you can't help it when you cum on command as your eyes lock for the first time, legs shaking and screams ripping from your lungs into the dark night as you disobey the very man who allowed you this pleasure. you keep squirming around even after levi stops his thrusts, frozen in place, in shock that you're actually cumming without asking first. the dumbfounded look is mirrored when he glances up to see his boyfriend's expression as his hips come to a stop in his own fist. 

you're so delirious, so drunk on the euphoria of levi's dick in your guts that you don't even notice the tension rising. just start throwing your ass back against your man, nails digging into his arms caging you down. but before you know it he's pulling out and turning you around, eyes on fire from you going against his orders. 

"w-wait daddy 'm s-sorry! im so so- AHHH VI, S-STOP!" your pleas are cut off by the cries you let out, body jolting from the harsh smacks landing on your pussy. quick and right after each other, not giving you any time to breathe. you just keep crying, trying to squirm away from his hits, but also trying to grind into his hand. it's a battle of pain and pleasure that's making your pussy leak more than you ever thought possible.

"get her ass in the car, i'm recruiting a cameraman first," eren walks to the other side of the car while tucking his dick back in his pants and squishing your cheeks together. he sucks on his teeth while watching the tears flow down your face before kissing you on the lips and letting go, slapping you just enough to have your eyes rolling into the back of your head. levi's beckoning you into the vehicle as ren makes his way towards connie.

"ayo springer," eren walks up as connie starts to light his cigarette, "i got a proposition for you…"

you're busy getting your clothes stripped off while levi tugs you onto his lap, his hands going back to tear your grey crop top off so he can get his lips on your beautiful brown nipples. he loves sucking on his baby's buds; wants to secretly get you pregnant soooo bad, to see you get all round and your tits fill up, wants to massage and suck the milk out of them when you're sore and need relief. you're grinding against levi's thigh now that your skirt's off your body, grinding hard. that familiar coil tightening in your tummy again. the only thing left on your body being the chains wrapped around your waist, eren's personal fave accessory of yours.

"g-gonna cum v-vi! can i cum, daddy? pleasplease lemme 'm sorry for cumming earlier— couldn't help it! you're t-too big..too fucking big daddy.…fuuuccckkk 'm gonna cummm!" right as you're about to reach your high, the doors open and levi stops your hips with a death grip from his hands. 

you're too far gone at this point, not even caring that connie's now seeing you fully naked and an absolute mess all over levi's lap. It's quite the sight: your cream all over his pants from your lil humping sesh and the prettiest tears in your eyes as you keep struggling in his grip. eren runs his hands over your body in levi's hold as you start whining out for them to touch you, subconsciously playing with the chains around your center.

"don't miss the angle because you're too busy beating your dick to my girl, springer!" eren threatens as he hands him his phone open to the camera, "and don't forget the flash like a fucking idiot!"

the blinding light of eren's flash flickers on before the count down for the video starts. you feel your pussy throbbing at the idea of connie recording you getting put in place…in the back of the mini-mart no less. it spurs you further as your hands head for lev's still-undone pants.

"gon' get your wish, baby. now suck on lev's cock while i prep this pretty lil hole to take me," he's manhandling you into the position he wants before you can even think of moving yourself. you find yourself ass up again tonight, thrusting back towards eren to grind on his reclothed dick. 

"mmph-daddy pl-pleath! wov when you mmm– fuck my a-ass!" you try to get out around levi's thick tip that's slowly disappearing into your mouth already. 

"fuuck– you're so  fucking nasty, huh baby? wanna put on a show for springer and the camera like a dirty little slut, don' you?" he's landing slaps to your ass that have you moaning around your other boyfriend's dick. sending him to thrust up into your mouth as whimpers fly past his trembling lips-

"o-ooooh fuuuuckk, mmm gonna cum down your fuck throat. gon' paint that shit– and better not waste a single drop, m'kay baby? fuuucckkk fuckfuckfuck!" he starts getting teary-eyed when you start playing with his balls. sinking into subspace as you milk his cock— while staring right into connie's eyes. "r-rennn baby can icanicanidaddypleeaasse!" the tears are falling now, levi's eyes starting to cross as he teters on the edge.

"come here– kiss me and you can cum baby. can cum all down her throat if you lemme feel your lips, haven't got a kiss from you since this morning,"

 levi doesn't miss the pout in his boyfriend's voice as he immediately shoots forward and pulls eren into a messy, nasty kiss. the movement making you take even more of his cock down your throat, your choking sounds music to your lovers' ears as they swat spit over your body. eren takes this time to break away to bring two of his fingers up for levi to suck and choke on. fucking his throat with his fingers as he cums down yours with beautiful muffled sounds of pleasure floating from around ren's fingers. you cockwarm levi down your throat as eren pushes one finger into your ass, whines coming from your mouth and overstimulating levi, but it fuels eren. fuels him to fuck your ass a little harder with his finger so you make those perfect lil noises round vi's dick and get him to keep crying those pretty tears of pleasure he loves so much. 

your fucking yourself back onto his fingers when he slips a second one in, trying to beg him to just fuck you already with your actions. brain too fuzzy and throat too full to express yourself with words. you feel lev's dick start to get hard again in your mouth, slowly bobbing your head to get him fully erect again. levi's digging his fingernails into his palms so hard it's leaving behind crescent imprints, but eren's breaking point is seeing him bite his lip so hard it draws blood. he's pulling his fingers from your ass before leaning down to spit the hole and manhandling you to get off lev's dick. a popping sound filling the space of the car as your mouth leaves his cock, and your back hits his chest before he's giving you an order—

"now ride his fucking dick till i decide you deserve mine, too." he ends his sentence with a harsh slap to your ass, making you jump a little as a moan escapes you. 

"yes sir," it's whispered as you climb onto levi's lap, reaching to put his tip at your entrance.

"now ride him like a real slut. he's all subby for you, love. don't you wanna make sir feel good? wanna take care of him?"

that sparks something inside you. seeing your boyfriend's cloudy eyes, more tears brimming behind the red cheeks and quivering hands dangling in the air because he doesn't know where to put them. 

"it's okay, sir. you can touch me– gimmie you hands, baby. touch me ju-just like that, sir!" you bring your hands to guide his to your chest, letting him take over after he starts groping your breasts. "yeah keep touching me, don't stop, vi-gon' ride you now!"

you sink your hips down, taking him balls deep till his pubes brush against your clit making you pick up your pace. you keep taking him all the way out before slamming all the way back down, wanting to see levi break– but from you this time. never took control and they're giving you an opportunity to.. especially on camera so you could play it back when you're missing your boys. 

"yeah baby, just lemme fuck myself for you! gon fuck this dick till your cumming in me and filling me up, sir~"

the sounds leaving levi's mouth are straight out of a porno— and you're getting the most of the power trip. taking his hands and holding them to the roof as you get on your tip toes to really start riding your man. leaning forward to lick the blood dripping down his chin, tracing its path with your tongue, and sucking his bottom lip one into your mouth while alternating between dropping down and swirling your hips..till you fly a little too close to the sun. you see him on the edge, hips starting to rut up to meet you as his sounds get higher and higher like yours before you nut. you're spelling your name on his dick when levi's legs start shaking at the last letter, so without a second thought, you're pulling up off him. before you can react you're being pulled back down onto his lap. dick bullying up into you as he starts jackhammering into you from underneath. the way he's hitting you so deep has you howling and wrapping your arms around his shoulders, digging your head in his neck as your screams fill up his ear. 

"nah fuc-fucking look at me, bitch! think you gon' edge me? think you're ready for that, sweetpea?" when you don't look at him he's growling and letting one of his hands tangle into your hair as he yanks you back to look at him. you've never seen him so mad, eyes set hard and glaring at you. "you ever try that shit again and i won't let you cum for a week– no a month! make you watch me and daddy fuck every day while you're tied up. gonna play with your princess parts till you're crying from your eyes and this little pussy, but won't let you have any cock or let you cum. you want that, y/n?"

"n-noo! c-can't do that s-sir! can't do it! w-won't survive without y-your dicks– will die if you don't fuck me, if you don't gimme that fucking dick, baby!" you're crying your own tears now, pussy leaking while you fuck down to meet his hips. "won't ever d-do it ever again, baby! nevereverrrr siirrr– fuckkkk right there- right fuckinthereeee!" you start slurring your words, pussy getting ready to burst all on his dick. 

both men are chuckling at you, watching as you release your juices all over lev. the sounds leaving you have connie getting his dick back out, making sure not to fuck up the visual of what he's filming in the process. eren's heart just bout thumps out his chest when you grind down on levi slowly, looking back at him with that lost look twinkling in your eyes.

"c-can you fuck my ass now, daddy? ha-have i earned it yet?" 

he just groans before pulling you back toward him a little, changing the angle of levi's cock in you as he puts his lips on yours. he moves closer behind you, sliding a hand down to play with your clit as he positions his dick at your puckering hole. he doesn't make you wait long as he inches himself in, gasping with you as he feels levi's cock rubbing up against his between the thin layer of skin separating them. his pace starts slow, but as you start bouncing harder on levi, the harsher he gets in return. you're so– full. can't even talk, just let out animalistic noises as you all fall into a rhythm. your eyes find their way back to connie's as the sound of his wet fist keeps fucking his cock despite the multiple loads leaking around the base of his dick and all over himself. this time it's connie that's cumming from the eye contact, as you watch him pull another heavy load from his red and irritated cock. 

it doesn't take long before you're all three close to cumming, always getting your nut faster when you fuck like this. it's like your bodies are puzzle pieces that match up, connecting and fitting perfectly. it makes you feel better than the drugs ever could, being this close with your lovers. the light-headed feeling starts taking over your brain as your begs to cum start pouring out shortly after. 

"hold on baby," eren's placing a kiss to your hairline before he's making levi look into his eyes. "y-you close, lev, huh baby? you gettin close pretty boy?" 

"uh-huhhh daddy, gonna breed this pretty lil slut, but not till you tell me to!" 

"can we all try and cum together? gon let you get your nut, don't worry loves. just wan' do it together, okay? now fucking cum! cum one more time for me so we can go home and do this all fucking over again!"

the words bubbling up in your throat don't make it out as the electric feeling of your pussy getting ready to orgasm bubbles up, again. your toes curl as the thursts stop inside you and the feeling of hot cum battering up your insides floods your senses. the feeling making you cream all over them, screaming into the night as your back arches into eren's back, your tit going into levi's mouth once again. you all lay there for a second after the camera's turned off, the only thing being heard are the pants of all four of you filling up the camaro. 

"tell anyone about this and i'll fucking kill you, springer," eren huffs out while regaining his breath and taking his phone back from his grasp. 

"yeah keep your damn mouth shut or you're dead, baldy." levi chimes in, sending him a glare while petting your back trying to calm you down from the pounding you just endured. 

"now get the fuck out," eren demands, a smirk returning to his face. "by my count you got about 15 angry customers waiting on you inside, playboy."

-

this is only my second work so feedback is greatly welcomed and appreciated !! < 333

[pr0mpts]

🦌 — lyric prompts from "inbred" (2021), by ethel cain. adjust as necessary.

michelle pfeiffer

i love the way it feels to miss you.

i tell all my friends everything you do.

it's no good.

who am i without you?

home's not home unless you're there.

i'll never be ready, but i don't care.

do you think of me too?

i hate to let you go.

maybe we could be together in another life.

i gotta pack my bags.

i won't even miss you tomorrow.

crush

he denies it.

his daddy's on death row.

he hasn't tried coke.

he's always had a problem saying no.

can you read my mind?

i've been watching you.

you look so cool

good men die too.

i'd rather be with you.

i owe you a black eye and two kisses.

tell me when you wanna come and get 'em.

i only want him if he says it first to me.

something's been feeling weird lately.

there's just something about you, baby.

god's country

the road is longer than it is hard.

could you be someone else if someone else is what i need?

i shouldn't ask that of you.

when you're old, you'll understand.

it was a highway to nowhere.

cold car with no gas, and we chose it.

our kids will grow up with half as much.

you've tasted love.

it tasted sweet.

you drank the blood and bit the meat.

you hold it.

you let it go.

i learned a lesson.

i need to pray hard.

don't sink in me.

unpunishable

call me what you want.

party's over, go the fuck home.

the darker the fruit, the sweeter.

he's mean, i'm meaner.

you're right, in a way.

how so, babe?

i'm too good for you.

it makes me need it even more.

it's still never enough.

i'm unpunishable.

i'm his favorite.

show me where it hurts.

we don't even know where we are.

i don't even know who you are.

inbred

he's so good to me and nobody else.

you should watch yourself.

she can't leave the bed.

something smells rotten.

it's starting to spread.

i'm bad, he's worse.

we're already dead.

all the fucking lights are out.

you can't win 'em all.

who knows how much longer i'll lay on the floor?

touch me 'til i vomit.

i'm not scared of god.

i'm scared he was gone all along.

who will take the fall?

who of us is stronger?

you were wrong.

i love him to death.

you can fuck yourself.

you get off on innocence.

he hates the way you look at me.

you're already dead.

two-headed mother

i create you.

you know she hates you.

i've loved before.

i'll kill again.

you're just the worst of all my men.

i love you.

i'll love 'til i'm sore.

i don't love you.

i don't love you no more.

crying during sex

i lied when i said i didn't want you.

you'll forget the way we were supposed to be.

two drowning coals won't ever light.

you'll bite the hand that needs you.

right now, i need you.

i don't know what happened.

i was young and sweet.

time drags on.

i hate him for the time he's gone.

i've been here for weeks.

i've been here for years.

i've been here too long.

i forgot what stop means.

if i'm crying, it's because i'm in love.

i could love you if i tried.

i'm trying.

earnhardt

love is a nightmare.

i could be good but it wouldn't matter.

there's no silver line on a fucking disaster.

i hope that you're happy.

i'm spending my nights reliving it.

i've been scared of the dark for all of my life.

i'm always afraid but never to die.

you think you're someone else.

you need easy.

you want weak.

i bleed easy.

where were you?

age of delilah

it hurts to grow up.

life's never been without blood.

i'm no good at goodbyes.

can you just tell me which way i'm driving?

i'm going.

i'm ready.

you've been gone for quite a while.

not everything feels like something else.

have i done enough for salvation?

you'll die if you leave it up to god.

michelle pfeiffer (solo version)

i see you.

i feel you.

i know you.

i would never tell you the truth.

you don't know the things i've seen.

hand it back over to me.

you missed the heart.

you just hit all the meat.

the bite back's twice as mean.

[queenofbaws]

hi :) 🌩️

🌩️ Share something funny/cracky from your WIP.

well hi yourself!!! ;)c i think i got a little something dumb lying around here somewhere...hehehe

“Uncle Jack?” “Mhm.” “What makes you so sure no one's gonna stop and ask to help? If we’re just standin’ out here, I mean?” “Well Bobby,” he said, throwing open the hatchback with a grunt, “that’d be because we’re a scary bunch, the five of us. Goddamn terrifying, as a matter of fact.” Bobby’s eyes flicked between the bunch of them, finishing on his own open hands. “Huh? How? We’re not scary.” “That’s cuz you’re not thinkin’ about it the right way,” Jack explained, and while he might not’ve been Chris’s favorite person on Earth, he did have to admit he appreciated how patient he always was with Bobby and the kids—none of his usual smartassery snaking through his rationale. “Nighttime, so anyone pulling up on us has headlights on to cut through the dark. What’re they gonna see in those lights as they drive up?” “Uh...a truck?” “After that.” “Us?” “Mmm. Five goons too solid to knock over with a pail of water, the lot of ‘em just skulkin’ around in the woods.” “Goons?” Travis sneered. “That’s what got you, huh?” Leaning over, he nudged him with the point of his elbow. “See, for me it was the pail of water thing. Where would you even get a pail full of water at this time of night, Jack? You tell me that.” None of the rest of them laughed at that, not even to snicker. Not even Caleb! Jerks. “I’m gonna need you to imagine you don’t know any of us from Adam for a tick now, Bobby. Never seen us a day in your life. You roll up on us, we probably don’t look all that warm and cuddly, huh? Fact, I’d go a step further—a stranger’d more like as not spot us and hit the gas while actively shitting their pants.” “Jesus Christ, Jack.” “Couldn’t blame them for it, either,” he just kept going, ignoring Travis completely. “Not with three of us looking like serial killers and the other two looking like out-and-out sex perverts.” There was a beat of silence as they absorbed that. Then, almost predictably, Bobby spoke up again. “Wait, which of us is which?” “Y’know what? Why don’t you boys go ahead and sort that one out on your own, hmm?” Chris rolled his eyes so hard he literally made himself motion sick. “For the last time, Jack, it’s 2021, a man should be allowed to wear shorts without getting accused of being a pervert! There’s nothing deviant about showing your knees! It gets hot out here, and—” “Welp,” Jack grunted, setting the traps down onto the asphalt. “There you go. The Boy Scout went and claimed that sex pervert role for himself. Now you just got one more to puzzle out. Take your time.”

[rjzimmerman]

In his Substack blog, Bill McKibben summarizes this article authored by Brian Deese (one my long-term friends) published in The Atlantic. Brian was President Biden's Director of theNational Economic Council and was a key drafter of the Inflation Reduction Act:

Total investment in clean energy was more than 70 percent higher in 2023 than in 2021, and now represents a larger share of U.S. domestic investment than oil and gas. Clean-energy manufacturing is off the charts. Money is disproportionately flowing into promising technologies that have yet to reach mass adoption, such as hydrogen, advanced geothermal, and carbon removal. And, thanks to a provision that allows companies to buy and sell the tax credits they generate, the law is creating an entirely new market for small developers.

But for all of this progress to deliver, it needs to translate into clean energy that Americans can actually use. In 2023, we added 32 gigawatts of clean electricity to the U.S. grid in the form of new solar, battery storage, wind, and nuclear. It was a record—but it was still only about two-thirds of what’s necessary to stay on track with the IRA’s goal of reducing emissions by 40 percent by 2030.

Brian adds:

The topic of utility reform operates in what the climate writer David Roberts has described as a “force field of tedium.” I can say from experience that starting a cocktail-party conversation about public-utility-commission elections is a good way to find yourself standing alone. But if you care about averting the most apocalyptic consequences of climate change, you need to care about utilities.

A century ago, utilities were granted regional monopolies to sell electricity subject to a basic bargain. They could earn a profit by charging consumers for investments in building new power plants and transmission lines; in exchange, they’d commit to providing reliable electricity to all, and submit to regulation to make sure they followed through.

This model made sense for much of the 20th century, when generating electricity required building big, expensive fossil-fuel-powered steam turbines, and utilities needed to be assured of a healthy return on such heavy up-front investments. But it is at least a generation out of date. Over the past several decades, technology has opened up new ways of meeting consumers’ electricity demand. The 20th-century utility model doesn’t encourage this innovation. Instead, it defaults toward simply building more fossil-fuel-burning plants. As a result, consumers get a less reliable product at higher prices, and decarbonization takes a back seat.

[yuzukahibiscus]

ZUKA LIVE (MINAMI MAITO)

(Hey this is Hibiscus! This is a scheduled post but happy Shonichi for Minami Maito’s dinner show “ONE AND ONLY”! I’ve pre-translated this 2-page feature from Takarazuka GRAPH March Issue in 2021. Hope all is well for Maiti and other performers today!)

— Stars respond to readers’ questions and requests!

Q: Please tell us your routine before you go on stage! Usually when I want to focus, I’d eat my favourite lamb congee! (~From Summer is Lamb Congee)

A: I see~ What would I be doing…2 hours before the performance I’d have entered the dressing room, done some warm up and my makeup…it’s usually set with this rundown, but depending on my conditions and feelings on that day, the specific routine would change. If there was a way that would make my performance better, I won’t however decide it on that “this was it!”

Q: If you were an athlete competing in the Tokyo Olympics, what sports event would you join? (~From Maiti’s Eyelashes)

A: You’re my eyelash!? (LOL) Then I’d hope you’d be a longer and thicker eyelash type (LOL) What event would I do…if it’s gymanstics, maybe something closer back to the gymnastics that I’d do. I want people to be surprised [with the event that I participated] that it suits me, and finds it amazing I can achieve that kind of balance! I’d like to do those that involve the “mattress”, but my back is hard so I think if I were to do a back flip, I’d probably break my bones (LOL).

Q: I can always receive Minami-san’s cheerful energy. So my question is, have you eaten something that would make you feel good? Also is there something you’d see as a treat to yourself? I want to know what keeps Minami-san so hyped up. I will keep on supporting the cool and wonderful Maiti♡ (~ From Hikaru Mama 🐣)

A: Thank you! Hm, I just realised this but I don’t think I’d get hyped up from eating…But in rest days and before the long holidays, when I’m having grilled meat, Korean dish, pasta and could eat food with garlic without worrying about it, the feeling of “Oh, I’m taking a rest” really becomes so real to me and that would be a treat [for myself].

Q: Was there the funniest thing that happened recently? (~From Aachan)

A: During the Special Live “Aqua Bella!!”, I sang a song in “Senhor CRUZEIRO!”. During “Senhor” when I sang this song, I’d go down to the audience so there was no choreography for this song, this time I thought since it’s just myself so I was teaching everyone around me how to do the Samba step. When I tried dancing and singing this out during my self-rehearsals, I added unnecessarily excessive vibrato to my singing (LOL) and everyone was erupting in laughter.

Q: Could you do a pair of sexy pose and cute pose that fans would feel happy about, please? I’d like to see the gap! (~From Norino)

A: How should I do the cute pose…Tadaa~

Q: Do you have a quote or motto in your heart that you would encourage yourself to cheer up when you faced some setbacks? (~From Yuri)

A: This is really difficult because I have plentiful quotes (in mind). Rather than a motto, I’d say that I have to believe myself even more in this time. If I thought “I can’t do this”, then I really wouldn’t be able to do it, and I’d be overwhelmed by that absence of confidence. Frustrations are the next thing to conquer, but honestly if you’re feeling down for a long time, you really can’t finish one good thing out of it, so the next thing should be trusting in yourself, and thinking of how to make things work in the time to come.

Q: In the Senshuuraku (last day) performance of “Haikara-san ga Tooru” you said to Tamaki, “You’re in love with me, right” did you think over that line when you said it? Also, did you think of saying this line before Senshuuraku? (~From Girl S who couldn’t forget that line)

A: After the marriage scene where (Shoui saves Benio from the fire), the order of the cast members saying the lines are all ad-libs. We really didn’t think about it beforehand but I was thinking if there was anything I could say during the Senshuuraku, so I asked Kurisu (Oto) who played Tamaki if she thought of anything, but she didn’t and we were quickly entering into Act II (LOL). I wanted to allow the audience to enjoy the two’s relationship, how Tamaki is somehow trying to pursue (Onijima) but not in a “clingy” kind of way…I kept thinking about it, and then it clicked my mind when it was my turn to go out!

Q:  I’d like to know about your awareness when dancing with the musumeyaku, or the enjoyment you felt when dancing in pairs! (~ From Erina)

A: It’s really~ fun because when I dance in pairs (with my partner), I’m dancing while feeling their gaze and also their breathing and the nuance of the dance itself! And beyond anything else, musumeyaku-san are cute! We’d constantly have the awareness to dance well in order to let our partners look well, so when if it’s about the timing to lead the dance, I’d think about how to lead my partner well and practice many times with them, so when I can fully demonstrate it, the dance won’t feel too heavy and it feels great!

Q: In the Takarazuka 1st photobook, Seo [Yuria]-san praised you saying, “Before the summer she was still skinny, then after the summer she became a Muscle Man”. It’s around 1 month for the summer…? How did you gain muscles in this short time? I know this is done by accumulative effort, but could you please tell us? I’m looking forward to know! (~From Dry Eye)

A: I’m sooooooo embarrassed [about that comment], but I’m probably just chubby (LOL). In those strict Yokasei days, in order not to fall asleep I thought “I must eat”. Anyway, the outcome of all those calorie intake [from eating] is having firm muscles in May already that are “buff! buff! buff! buff!” and thus coming to the condition where I was having muscles all over my body. Seo was probably busy that she didn’t realise it before, so when she has free time and finally realised it, she said that [in my photobook] (LOL).

[mint-mumbles]

I’m evolving…

Here’s my Spotify Wrapped if anyone is interested (I’m not adding pictures other than the conclusion, I’ll just write it out in text):

I listened to 21 genres

1. Rock

2. Vocaloid

3. pov: indie

4. Pop

5. Pixel

My song taste is most similar to Savannah, Florida, USA (because Spotify said how they like MCR, Will Wood, and IDKHBTFM)

I played 769 songs this year

My top songs were:

1. Vampires Will Never Hurt You by My Chemical Romance (played 35 times)

2. Absinthe by I DON’T KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME

3. Freak on a Leash by Korn

4. Dead! by My Chemical Romance

5. The End. by My Chemical Romance

I listened to Spotify music for 9,272 minutes (6 days) with the highest day coming out to 363 minutes (6.05 hours) and was in the top 33% of listeners worldwide

I listened to 397 artists this year

My top artist was Muse (as you saw up top, I’m keeping up the trend) and was a top 1% fan who spent 1,401 minutes (23.35 hours) listening to them with the song I listened to the most by them being Futurism (2001)

My other top artists were:

2. MCR

3. Korn

4. Pierce the Veil

5. Ghost

I now conclude this by letting you know that I’m going to Spotify’s HQ and finding the person who didn’t pay their overworked employees who created this… “design” (I just wanna talk…)

Top 100 incoming, so brace yourself! Turn back before it’s too late!

1. Vampires Will Never Hurt You (by MCR)

2. Absinthe (by I DON’T KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME)

3. Freak on a Leash (by Korn)

4. Dead! (by MCR)

5. The End. (by MCR)

6. System of a Down (by SOAD)

7. Young Girl A (by Siinamota)

8. Futurism (by Muse)

9. Demolition Lovers (by MCR)

10. Rolling Girl (by wowaka)

11. Moonchild (by Fields of the Nephilim)

12. Sunburn (by Muse)

13. You Know What They Do to Guys Like Us (by MCR)

14. Duality (by Slipknot)

15. Death of an Executioner (by Pierce the Veil)

16. Pretty Rave Girl (by S3RL)

17. Freakin’ Freak (by Dot Dot Curve)

18. 2econd 2ight 2eer (that was fun, goodbye.) (by Will Wood)

19. King for a Day (by Pierce the Veil)

20. This Ain’t a Scene, It’s an Arms Race (by FOB)

21. Dragula (by Rob Zombie)

22. The Second Law: Unsustainable (by Muse)

23. I Can’t Decide (by Scissor Sisters)

24. Venom (by Kairikibear)

25. As the World Caves In (by Matt Maltese)

26. Muscle Museum (by Muse)

27. The Only Hope for Me is You (by MCR)

28. Ga (ft. Hatsune Miku) (by Utsu-P)

29. girl’s a liar (by witted)

30. Neutron Star Collision (Love Is Forever) (by Muse)

31. I / Me / Myself (by Will Wood)

32. It’s Not a Fashion Statement, It’s a Deathwish (by MCR)

33. Got the Life (by Korn)

34. Screenager (2001) (by Muse)

35. People Are Strange (The Doors)

36. The Foundations of Decay (by MCR)

37. Redesign Your Logo (Bonus Track) (by Lemon Demon)

38. Creep (by Radiohead)

39. You Know My Name (by Chris Cornell)

40. This is How I Disappear (by MCR)

41. Ruler of Everything (by Tally Hall)

42. Eighth Wonder (by Lemon Demon)

43. Virtual Insanity - Remastered (by Jamiroquai)

44. Planetary (GO!) (by MCR)

45. Lost One’s Weeping (by Neru)

46. Newly Edgy Idols (by Mitchie M)

47. Take Me to Church (by Hozier)

48. Hang ‘Em High (by MCR)

49. Hurt (by NIN)

50. Starman - 2012 Remaster (by David Bowie)

51. Escape (by Muse)

52. Give ‘Em Hell, Kid (by MCR)

53. Dead Bodies Everywhere (by Korn)

54. Because You’re Here (by PinocchioP)

55. Setting Yourself Up For Sarcasm (by Get Started)

56. BUG (by Kairikibear)

57. Twist (by Korn)

58. Mama (by MCR)

59. Witch Image (by Ghost)

60. DARLING DANCE (by Kairikibear)

61. Freely Tomorrow (by Mitchie M)

62. Sleep (by MCR)

63. Press Play Walk Away (by S3RL & SynthWulf)

64. Hysteria (by Muse)

65. Babooshka - 2018 Remaster (by Kate Bush)

66. Party Poison (by MCR)

67. Law-Evading Rock (by Neru)

68. Meltdown (by iroha(sasaki))

69. Du hast (by Rammstein)

70. Micro Cuts - XX Anniversary RemiXX (2021) (by Muse)

71. Acid (by Ghost Town)

72. Hurt (by Johnny Cash)

73. Living Dead Girl (by Rob Zombie)

74. White Rabbit (by Jefferson Airplane)

75. Bad Romance (by Lady Gaga, covered by Artist Vs Poet)

76. KING (by Kanaria)

77. ‘Cause I’m a Liar (Kokichi Oma Fan Song) (by Mcki Robyns-P)

78. Showtime Ruler (by Karasuyasabou, covered by Kino Hina, Machico, Hirose Daisuke, and Toki Shunichi)

79. Little Kandi Raver 2012 (by S3RL)

80. Poi Poi Poi Popoi Poi Popi (by Ayaman Japan)

81. Thank You for the Venom (by MCR)

82. Points of Authority (by Linkin Park)

83. Love Me, Love Me, Love Me (by Kikuo)

84. Death city (by 6arelyhuman, syris)

85. GouZinZanGoku (by DEVILOOF)

86. Hurt (Quiet) (by NIN)

87. Dead Star (by Muse)

88. Blind (by Korn)

89. Absolution (by Ghost)

90. Savior (by Rise Against)

91. Unintended (by Muse)

92. My R (by WADATAKEAKI KurageP)

93. Caramelldanse (by Caramell)

94. I’m Not Okay (I Promise) (by MCR)

95. Endlessly (by Muse)

96. Johnny Johnny (by Danny Gonzalez)

97. Cirice (by Ghost)

98. I Never Told You What I Do For a Living (by MCR)

99. Momento Mori: the most important thing in the world (by Will Wood)

100. I’m Sorry, I’m Sorry (by Kikuo)

[risingwiththeheatabove]

A Little Honey - Background

Pairing: Josh X Reader

Series list

Warnings for series: 18+, Alcoholism, toxic parents, domestic abuse, drug use, alcohol use, explicit sexual content, NSFW, smut, unprotected sex, fingering, oral, blood kink, praise kink, daddy kink, and probably so much more that I am forgetting

Word count 1.9 K

July 2021

It is a hot and humid July day in Nashville, though you have never been one to mind the heat. Summer days were your favorite for sitting out on your balcony with a good book and a cold drink. Todays drink of choice was a lavender lemonade mock tail. Condensation collected on the glass the second you stepped outside. Finding a shaded spot to move your chair, you settled in with your new book. You had a few hours before your shift started that afternoon at the bar.

You have been a bartending ever since you could remember. Your dad owned a bar growing up and he often relied on you to cover shifts. Completely illegal but it was such a small town and most of the patrons were unbothered by your age. Many praised you for working so young. Though you never really had a choice in the matter. Your dad was a bad alcoholic and you knew upsetting him was dangerous. He eventually lost the bar when you went to college. He blamed you for its closing. At times you felt guilty for letting him down. But as you got older and your relationship with him grew apart. You realized how toxic he was. Leaving you with nothing but childhood trauma and daddy issues.

When your parents split you went with your dad and your younger sister went with your mom. You can still picture your mom packing up the old ford truck. She took whatever she could fit. Which meant only one of her children. Your sister was 4 years old and you were 8. Your mom knew you could take care of yourself. But your sister was still to young. Or at least that is what she told you before sitting your sister in the truck and driving down the dirt driveway. She flew down it so fast a dust cloud was tossed in the air losing all visibility of the truck. That was the last time you saw your mom.

For years your parents kept you and your sister from being able to communicate. You both tried to find ways to build a relationship with one another. Following each other on social media or finding Chatrooms and forums to try and talk when you could. Eventually your mother disconnected the internet to prevent your sister from connecting with you. Until one day when you were in college you received a phone call in the middle of the night from an unknown number.

October 2015

“Hello?” You grumbled half awake.

“Y/N???” A young voice on the other end cried.

Confused you pulled your phone away from your face to check the time

12:51 am

“Who is this? Why the fuck are you calling me at midnight? Rachel this better not be you trying to prank me. You know I have a fucking exam tomorrow.” You had been up studying all night and finally just got to sleep.

“Y/N I am so sorry! But I have no one else to call. It’s me Y/N, it’s Nora.”

You were at a loss for words. Your eyes glazed over and your jaw was limp.

“I need your help! Mom just fucking left me at a truck stop with a disposable phone and the only number in it is your’s!” She was crying as she spoke.

You knew your mom was evil but this was a new low. You stumbled out of bed turning on the light and trying to steady your mind. You ran your hand through your hair nervously.

“Where are you?” You said as you slid on pants, trying to locate your shoes.

“I think I am in Illinois, somewhere outside of St. Louis. She stopped to get gas and I went to go pee. When I came back out to where the car was parked all of my stuff was laying in the empty parking space with this phone.” She quickly stated. She was clearly panicking.

“Fuck, well I am in Manhattan, Kansas so it is going to be at least 6 hours before I can get to you. Can you find somewhere safe to stay until then?” You ran out of your dorm with keys in hand. This was not ideal, and there is no way you would make it to class tomorrow. You didn’t even have somewhere for her to stay since guests were not allowed in the dorms.

“I am so sorry Y/N! I do not want to fuck up your life too!” She was in a full blown panic attack at this point. Her words trembling with fear.

“I need you to take deep breaths with me. Can you do that?” You knew you had to calm her down to be able to find her.

You hear her crying slow down.

“In. Out. In. Out.” You repeat while you take loud synchronized breaths.

She begins to match your breathing.

“I will be in St. Louis is 6 hours and I will call you once I am there. I do not know how long the battery will last on that phone so only call me if its an emergency. Try to find somewhere safe and figure out where you are. Look for road signs, land marks, anything at all. You got it?”

“Y-Yes. I can try. I am so scared.” You hear her begin to cry.

“Hey, I know you are, but right now we have to get you safe.”

“Thank you Y/N.”

“Nora you are my sister, I would never leave you alone. I love you and I will call in a few hours.” You hang up the phone as you get on the road.

Ever since that night Nora has lived with you. You moved out of the dorms and got an apartment together that week. You dropped out of school sophomore year of collage so you could support the two of you. You were 20 and Nora was only 16. You had to go to court and become her legal guardian which was easier than it should have been since neither of your parents wanted her. You began bartending again at a few local bars to make ends meet. You had a hard few years until you met Chris.

You meet Chris through a friend. He seemed harmless at first. All you really knew about him at the beginning was that his family had cattle and money. You agreed to a blind date with him that went surprisingly well. Chris was tall and muscular. He had dark hair and blue eyes. He never grew his facial hair out but you always loved him with a stubble. He was not your typical type but you quickly fell in love despite that. The first year was fun and easy. But that all changed when you moved in together. Nora was 19 when Chris asked you to move in with him. You told him that you didn’t feel like you were ready to leave Nora. After weeks of arguing about it he finally agreed that the three of you could live together. Chris purchased a house with some land for you to all move into. He used his family money and agreed to keep cattle on the land to pay it back. You were still bartending, now at a local dive in your little country town in Nebraska. Chris hated the attention you would receive at the bar, but he never minded the free drinks. He often told you to change before your shifts because he deemed your outfit too revealing. About six months after you had moved in you noticed Chris had started drinking more than normal. You tried to discuss this with him but he told you to mind your own business. Nora could tell you were upset so she would try to get you out of the house when he was particularly intoxicated. All of the money you were making was going towards her schooling. She wanted to be a social worker to help kids who had similarly shitty childhoods. Two years into your relationship with Chris he became violent. It started with an unwelcome grab here and there. Quickly escalating to much more dangerous situations. You had been left broken and bloodied too many times to count. Each time trying to hide it from Nora, but she knew.

December 2020

“Fuck this Y/N!” Nora screamed busting into your room. Her short Blonde hair flying behind her as she ran to you.

You were in the bathroom trying to clean up your bloody nose and tear soaked skin. You jumped as she came through the door. All you could do was fall to the floor, ashamed of your sister seeing you this way. You were always the strong one. You had to keep it together for the both of you.

“Nora I am fine. Please just go before he comes back. I do not want you to get hurt!” You screamed at her through your tears.

“Stand up right fucking now! We are leaving! Pack whatever you can and I will meet you in the car in 10 minutes!” Nora grabbed your hands standing you up as she spoke. Her green eyes piercing into you. You could see the hurt she felt seeing you like this.

“Where will we go? We have nothing? No one! No one gives a shit about us Nora!” Still screaming at her.

She pulled you into a hug, crying into her you softened. Your head resting into her tall frame, just about at her shoulder.

“We have each other. And we always will. I fucking promise you. You saved me all those years ago. Let me save you!” She cried as she held you tighter.

That night you packed up a few bags of clothes and cosmetics and you drove to Nashville with a few thousand dollars and a beat up ford truck.

Nora and you had a rough start, renting rooms for weeks at a time. Working at multiple bars and clubs. Nora worked as a server and you a bartender, as always. It took you a few months to get an apartment but you finally did in April of 2021. you both worked your asses off for months until July came around and you finally began to feel settled. Nora was able to get a serving position at a fancy restaurant downtown which allowed her to have a more consistent schedule and even enjoy some free time. For the first time you didn’t have to support the two of you. This allowed you to resign from the shitty clubs and dive bars you had been working. You found a great bar in east Nashville that practically hired you on the spot after seeing your resume.

Life had become peaceful for Nora and yourself. You cherished your evenings together when you were not working. Spending time listening to music, cooking and catching up. You would often have coffee dates and go for walks at local parks. Camping was your favorite thing to do together when you could escape to nature for a few days. You would pack up the truck with your tent and various supplies and drive to one of Tennessee many state parks. You would hike and cook over the fire together. Often sharing too much wine and the perfect amount of laughter. Life was finally no longer a game of survival.

[mr-entj]

Hi Mr. ENTJ! Long time follower here :) I’m an INFJ woman who currently works in tech. I wanted to ask for your advice on how to handle burnout and your advice on my situation.

I’ve realized that the tech layoffs and also being a contractor in this environment have all led me to become extremely burnt out. Im still relatively new to my career, but I feel like I’ve pushed myself so hard these past few years because I hoped it would lead me to becoming an FTE. When I first got hired, I was told I would most likely get converted and that it was almost a guarantee. However, things have changed due to the macroeconomic environment, and I feel bamboozled and betrayed. Ive lost enjoyment in my day to day life, and I feel that I’m pushing myself so hard and repressing my feelings because of my fear of the alternative: feeling helpless and being jobless

I have enough savings for a year, and a part of me wants to just quit my job to travel, rest, and rejuvenate. The logical part of my brain says I should stay in my job for the financial and career stability. However, the emotional part of my brain is realizing that this is not sustainable for me. Thank you, and I hope you, INTJ, and Kobe are doing well.

Hey there, thanks for supporting the blog.

To start, you have a right to be pissed off because contractor to FTE conversions are often dangled in front of contractors to keep them motivated even when the company knows it's an unlikely outcome. It doesn't financially make sense most of the time to convert contractors to FTEs because it increases costs (benefits, taxes, severance, PTO, etc.), it decreases staffing flexibility (ease of layoffs, ease of swapping out resources, etc.), and it increases effort (performance management).

With that said, not getting converted isn't the end of the world, it's just a minor setback due to economic circumstances. Tech isn't crashing (i.e. it's not failing-- it's still making an obscene amount of money), it's just correcting for overhiring in 2021 and once the situation stabilizes you'll be in a much better position with the experience you've accumulated than someone who has no tech experience. You also still have a job, a paycheck, and financial security which is more than many people in this world can say.

Consider also a third option: use the skills, experience, and network you currently have to apply to many new jobs. Start with less desirable companies first as practice interviewing, then work your way up to more desirable companies once you've had enough practice. Target only full-time roles. This resource post I wrote a few years ago and the following tags have more: #job hunting and #career. Once you secure an offer, push the start date out and a vacation in between.

I don't know your exact financial situation so I can't advise if quitting your job without anything new lined up is a wise choice, but it's something that I'd never do. Keep in mind that hiring bias exists and that unemployed people have a tougher time finding a job than employed people whether it's due to voluntarily quitting, being laid off, raising a baby, or another reasons. It may be difficult to return to the workforce after your sabbatical especially if you don't have many years of experience and an extensive network to help you.

In the short term, I'd try the third outcome first and see what offers come your way. Ease up at work (without dropping any balls) and focus on your wellbeing. The worst they can do is fire you and you're already applying externally with a year's worth of savings as a cushion.

In the long term, hold companies to their promises and advocate harder for yourself. If they promise a conversion or a promotion or whatever, then demand a timeline and get it in writing. If not, leave situations when they no longer benefit you before they become so intolerable that you burn out. Burnout is like an empty gas tank in a car. There are many warning signs long before that happens-- heed them and course correct.

[tenebrare]

Deus Ex- Sarif's attack dog (revisited) + Post about how and why this revisit came to be aka some self-reflect (warning: long, ... OMG too long)

During Inktober2022, when I was forced to (as its part of the challenge) post daily, in some point I took a look of my 2022 postings in general. I found that I have taken my blogs title "Sketchbook and doodles" too literal. Almost all my works posted were... are... 1-2 day quick scribbles and clearly unfinished. Except 3. 2 of which were done in 2021 and still fit the 1-2 day filling and one work which I had done while recovering serious health related issue and was forced to focus only on recovery and I kept working on a singular piece the time without thinking about completing the piece itself (as my goal was just to fill the time I was awake and give my brain something else than health to think about) nor being stressed by war, bills, work. And out of those 3 remaining works that last is only one I wouldn’t know how to change, when I open its original file now. Also the other remotely almost passable as closer to complete works were done before war and illness. Why I have rushed like this – where was I hurrying to? Did I believe I improve better if I do more? Yet my best fan-work of 2022 is one I did, when I was physically so weak I was barely able to hold any objects like my pen (even eating and holding a spoon exhausted me to the point I slept hours afterwards), but just invested more time on doing something. Inktober was like a sum of the same – out of the 31 works I did, the best one in my opinion is the one I failed at original day and did bit by bit on other remaining days. Where am I running to? I should sit the f*** down. 2022 is trying to tell me something and I should listen. It 1st broke my graphics card few days in. Started a war close enough month after. Got me ill and almost killed me next month after that and then heatwaved me to heat-sickness soon as I started to do some recovery few months down. Canceled all my long planned events and activities for august and changed what-and-how in September. Only thing it did not cancel was me seeing my favorite band in July (in fact ‘universe’ in particular delayed the gig to be in 2022 from 2020). Maybe by November I should take the darn hint? … I finally sat down after Inktober. Meditated a few days, sitting back against almost ice cold-radiator in a 12C room (the machinery in basement shut itself off again and it was 12C outside as well). So I went back and took one the unfinished works and gave myself no time limits - „It is done, when it is done.” I told myself - “I am not running anywhere, no one gave me deadline. I do this because I love doing stuff like this. Do it like you just hired yourself and want your moneys worth. And above all – have fun. I must have fun again, like when I was 2 and scribbled believing I am greatest painter in the world and for my family I was.” Uh, and the widget in the basement started working after I had found calm in self as well worked on this piece a few days and is stable 21C now. If I’d believe in paranormal, I’d say this house is alive and is catching up my moods. But thanks, house, for the widget being back online. The gas company found no fault in the widget and its systems. Not in spring, when it stopped working 1st time after being just installed, nor this falls … Well… in this region we believe that old houses have their own spirits and personalities after all. Here’s “Sarif’s Attack Dog” as I wanted it to be 8 months ago. Just spent 5 times more time on it. Viewer, who wants, does find flaws in it and could argue about ‘its done, when its done’ part, but it is not about if someone else can do it better, likes it or does not like it or any other 100 problems, but its about how I wanted it to look-like in given moment and gave myself time to do it. Maybe it should be my 2023 years resolution? “Sit the f-down and take my sweet time on all things I do – including fan-art?” Provided 2023 doesn’t try to kill me again, like 2022 did… tehehe? PS! That lone fully completed 2022 fan-art of mine was Francis Pritchard hacking Adams computer in Prague

[randadrives]

An overview: Moab pt. 1

In 2021, I had no idea where Moab was or why it was considered special. By the beginning of 2023, I had my sights set on finding out. And I really do mean finding out, because I did minimal research! At the end of May that year, I was hooking up my tow trailer, packing my dogs in the truck, and headed west to drive about 1900 miles by myself to a campground in hopes the seasonal job offer I had lined up would work out. The tales of that road trip I’ll save to write for another day, as right now I want to focus on the magnificent experience of Southeast Utah. I heard many people over the years talk shit on Utah, tell me to avoid it, tell me there is nothing there but desert and Mormons. All it took was one different person telling me “I always end up going back to Moab because it feels like home” (shoutout to a wonderful person I met in high school). My advice to fellow travelers, or aspiring travelers, now is: don’t take travel advice from people who have never been anywhere. No offence to vacationers, because everyone travels and finds joy in their own ways, but if someone from western PA tells me not to go to a place like Utah when their yearly vacation is to Myrtle Beach or Florida, I would take their advice with a grain of salt. It might be good advice for them, but that doesn’t make it good advice for you! Discovering for myself what the place had to offer was important to me, and I went with the mindset that if I wasn’t having a good time, I could leave without fulfilling the seasonal commitment. I’m not normally the type to give something up so easily, but that thought was imperative to convincing myself to go try this. If you don’t like it, allow yourself to change your mind.

On my trek, seeing the “Welcome to Utah” sign was magical. There was a gradual change in landscape my last hundred miles or so through Colorado before the border. All the sudden I really was driving through the desert, with vast views on both sides. The sky appeared so open, and I couldn’t wait to see what the stars looked like at night. At the junction of I-70 and Highway 191 is a gas station called Jackass Joe’s, or Papa Joe’s according to Google Maps. This is about 35 minutes from downtown Moab, and I suggest stopping. It’s florescent green, covered in aliens and UFO’s, and they sell many convenient items but are known for their beef jerky and freeze-dried candies. It’s a fun place to take photos and look around to get your eyes off the road for a few minutes. Once on Highway 191, things really start to get interesting. The scenery changes from isolate desert to mountain ranges in the distance, and massive, red rock formations. I thought I had never seen anything more beautiful in my life (this phrase has crossed my mind several times, in several places all over the world, and each time I believe it wholeheartedly, and that’s how you remain happy with life). I looked up that night that these were the La Sal Mountain range of the Manti-La Sal National Forest, and I would spend a lot of time there later. At 13,000 ft, it is Utah’s second highest mountain range. The red rocks started getting closer and more densely occupying the space right after passing the airport (which you will surely miss if you’re not looking for it extremely hard) and the Moab Giants, a museum that will catch your eye with a life-size model of a tyrannosaurus rex outside. On the left hand side, you’ll pass Arches National Park and may not even know it, and then the entrance to Lions Park and a road called 128 next to the Colorado River, which is a must see for anyone who drives through this area. On the right of that is an equally enchanting Potash Rd, which goes up the opposite direction along the river. Then very suddenly, depending on the time of year, you’re in the hustle and bustle of a small town teeming with tourists from all over the world. On both sides there are fast food restaurants that you just don’t expect to see after the sheer magnitude of the rocks you just passed. There are ATV rental businesses, hotels, campgrounds, bicycle stores, and everything you can imagine a small town might need on top of that for their year-round residents. My favorite part was the lack of a Walmart (even Moab can’t escape the grip of Dollar General, though). I passed sign after sign advertising river tours, Jeep tours, base jumping, and things I didn’t even consider would be there. It can be overwhelming the first time! The coolest part for me was with the amount of traffic to look at, all of the overlanding vehicles you notice. The Jeeps with the full set up, the old-school VW vans, the expensive Sprinter vans, the truck campers, the RV’s and tow trailers, the giant Class A’s, the school buses! Bicycles and motorcycles mounted on everything, kayaks and canoes, extra gas cans everywhere, stickers and patches galore. I was thinking how surrounded I was by people who were very intentionally living their lives, and I knew coming here was a decision I would not regret. Downtown, I passed several cute little stores and bakeries I knew I’d be checking out soon. I’m a sucker for a handmade, local souvenir, and I love coffee shops. Exiting the main drag and continuing down 191, the stores and businesses lessen and you can see the full view of the Moab Rim, the cliffs along the west side of the town. These are beautiful when the sun hits them. And just ahead you can see the La Sal mountains in their full glory. I arrived at the campground, Moab Rim Camppark, and let the exploring begin.

[kp777]

By Jon Queally

Common Dreams

Jan 05, 2024

“The American people deserve a fair and impartial review of Trump v. Anderson, free from any conflicts of interest."

A progressive advocacy group was among those immediately calling for Justice Clarence Thomas to recuse himself after the U.S. Supreme Court announced Friday that it would hear arguments in the Colorado case seeking to bar former President Donald Trump from appearing on the state's 2024 presidential ballot due to his role in fomenting the January 6, 2021 insurrection.

Thomas is not one of the court's three Trump-appointed justices but has been repeatedly called to recuse himself in cases involving the events of January 6 due to the active role his wife, right-wing activist Ginni Thomas, played in the effort to stop the official certification of the 2020 election results.

"The American people deserve a fair and impartial review of Trump v. Anderson, free from any conflicts of interest," said Christina Harvey, Stand Up America's executive director, in a Friday statement referencing the name of the Colorado case.

"Justice Thomas' continued refusal to recuse himself from this case and others related to the efforts to overthrow the 2020 election—efforts his wife participated in and pressured state officials to support—raises questions about the integrity of the judicial process and the influence of political bias," Harvey said.

"As trust in the Supreme Court reaches new lows," she added, "decisions like these only reinforce Americans' belief that Supreme Court justices are politicians in robes. To begin to restore public confidence in our nation's highest court, Thomas must recuse himself."

The Colorado Supreme Court ruled last month that Trump should not be on the state's primary ballot because the 14th Amendment bars anyone who took an oath to the U.S. Constitution and then "engaged in insurrection or rebellion" from holding office. As NBC Newsreports, "Among the novel legal questions presented by the case are whether the language applies to candidates for president and who gets to decide whether someone engaged in an insurrection."

U.S. Rep. Jamie Raskin (D-Md.), a constitutional scholar and the lead Trump impeachment manager after the 2021 insurrection, called for Thomas' recusal during a televised interview on CNN Sunday.

A letter on Thursday signed by eight other House Democrats—led by Rep. Hank Johnson (D-Ga.)—also called on Thomas to recuse.

The letter addressed to Thomas says the justice must recuse "because your impartiality is reasonably questioned by substantial numbers of fair-minded members of the public, who believe your wife Virginia ('Ginni') Thomas' substantial involvement in the events leading up to the January 6 insurrection, and the financial incentive it presents for your household if President Trump is reelected, are disqualifying."

After making the detailed case for recusal, the letter from the lawmakers concludes:

Fewer than half of all Americans trust the Supreme Court, and that number will fall even lower if you rule in this case. A justice should not sit in judgment of his own wife's behavior, nor in judgment of his wife's professional and financial fortunes. Yet that is exactly what you would be doing should you refuse to recuse in this case. To protect the court's integrity and the legitimacy of its decision in this monumental case, you must recuse yourself.

In addition to the case in Colorado, Trump also this week appealed a decision by Maine Secretary of State Shenna Bellows, who determined that Trump's actions leading up to the January 6 assault on the U.S. Capitol make him ineligible for the ballot in that state.

That case could be impacted by what the Supreme Court decides in the Colorado case, but it could also run through the federal court system on its own path. The brief from the court released Friday said the Colorado arguments will be held on February 8.