#if I ever have the displeasure of running in to either of those fuckers on the street it’s on sight

[mkzmerryfriend]

If it had been my child, that man would be dead

[troglobite]

dlskfjalsdf

was struck by Thoughts earlier today. or last night. i legitimately don't remember bc the fucking sounds that woke us up and then i had therapy and then ???? the day happened idfk.

anyway i felt compelled to look up some friends i used to have as a kid.

i found some of them

some of them have difficult to find names or i've misremembered their name and mixed it up w someone else i knew or something

but one of them i'm like. Legitimately Worried About. in a way.

she should be just a couple years younger than me, maybe 26 or 27.

the last trace of her on the internet is from her senior year of high school in 2014 in a swimming competition.

there's literally just nothing after that. and her name is specific as fuck.

she just doesn't exist ANYWHERE. she had ONE PAGE of search results.

now normally i'd be like "fuck yeah congrats on being untraceable in this day and age!"

the problem though is--

well

tw for child abuse and abusive households

her parents were violently abusive and horrible, disgusting, reprehensible people.

i found her dad online. he runs a photography business for children. like he takes senior photos and sports photos.

fucking disgusting monster. can't help but beat his OWN children, including at their own birthday party sleepovers in front of their friends, but yeah i'll happily trust him with OTHER peoples' children.

anyway.

so her parents were/are fucking MONSTERS, the kind of people upon whom i wish terrible things so that they might leave their childrens' lives.

i was legitimately prepared to find an obituary for her, tbh.

but there's nothing

there's more about her younger brother, though, who also went into swimming.

so it seems like their parents forbade them from having any social media. and either they have none, or they have none with their names attached.

she is almost 30 and is still hiding from her parents.

the other thing i find kind of disturbing is that there's no reference to his own family or children on his fucking websites. there's ONE picture of his son.

but his youngest daughter is missing, and the one, the oldest, who was my friend is also missing.

nothing past 2014.

and it's disturbing.

and i'm sort of wishing i hadn't looked her up. bc it's fucked up and those two fuckers were the most violent abhorrent people i ever had the displeasure of meeting.

our other mutual friend (we were briefly a group of 3) is studying medicine to become a doctor elsewhere in the country.

other ppl i knew from that time are still in the area and are parents now. they all seem to be doing okay.

but this one friend. it's just kind of unsettling. and wherever she is i hope she's okay and she was able to escape her demonic parents.

[norcumii]

for the ask meme: Rex/Obi or pairing/characters of choice - Werewolf/vampire AU / Sick/injured / Stranded Due to Inclement Weather / Huddling for warmth

For this trope mashup meme.

This was CLEARLY influenced by seananmcguire's Newsflesh series, which was the last zombie related media I interacted with, and I regret NOTHING.

(Meanwhile, much worldbuilding was done by Dogmatix, who I was foolish enough to let near the plunnies again ^_^)

*****

The problem with zombies, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but muse, was that they stopped thinking. Oh, there was some low-level intelligence left in there, but it was mostly focused on consuming the living. Not tactics, for the most part, not unless the bastards were very fresh or in large enough groups, but that also meant that when some brilliant asshole declared “oh, the zombies wouldn’t/couldn’t ever do that,” no one consulted the zombies.

Thus, an early morning patrol in an area that “never saw more than one or two zombies” turned into a clusterfuck retreat. Though ‘patrol’ was rather a gross overstatement for just the two of them taking an idle walk because some days, Rex was too jittery for sleep and too damn self-sacrificing to admit that he missed early morning runs.

There was always enough fog coming in from the river that they should have been fine.

There also shouldn’t have been an entire pack of at least a dozen, dozen and a half zombies in the area. Where the fuckers had even come from was an unpleasant mystery.

“Rex?” Obi-Wan murmured into the man’s ear. “Are you with me?” he asked as if he couldn’t make out the glacially slow beat of his heart.

Rex groaned, head lolling to nestle further in the crook of Obi-Wan’s neck. He mumbled something that was probably a curse, which left Obi-Wan in the unenviable position of having to close his eyes and take his own steadying breath. Yes, on the one hand he did have an unfairly attractive boyfriend draped across his lap, straddling his hips and feeling like he was several seconds away from some serious necking.

On the other, they were also treed a good thirty feet above a pack of damned zombies, which had already tried seriously munching on Rex, and ‘necking’ could have serious consequences when one of them was an actual vampire.

Speaking of. Obi-Wan shifted in the cautious little jig in an attempt to nudge Rex more to the left. If he could just free up his arm enough, then he could move around while not tossing them off the tree stand or dislodging the thick emergency poncho that was the only thing keeping Rex from turning into a charred crisp. It was not sized for two, but there hadn’t been time to be more careful and drape it over just Rex instead of just plonking it down over the two of them.

“If you refuse to leave base again without your entire damned armor because of this, I’m going to be very put out,” Obi-Wan informed him, getting another incoherent unhappy noise. The armor was good at keeping the soldiers bite free – not that they needed to worry about the zombification business, but it still hurt them and fed the damn undead. It was also effective at keeping the soldiers touch starved and isolated in ways Obi-Wan had difficulty standing.

Another careful shift, and he could just barely dig out one of the small, squishy packs he kept in his jacket for emergencies.

Since his luck was shit, as soon as he pulled it free, the bastard caught on a loose thread, and with his claws he didn’t dare grab too hard for it, and down it tumbled. One of the zombies lunged, snapping at it, and blood exploded all across the remains of the bastard’s face.

Not being too intelligent, the rest of the pack turned on it immediately. Obi-Wan tried to tune out the disgusting carnage, being much more careful on his second attempt. He didn’t have many packets to spare. This one, he managed to juggle up in front of Rex’s face, jostling it a little. “Here. Drink,” he ordered, hoping that would be sufficient. He hated trying to insert the little sippy straws – Anakin had loved juice pouches back as a child, and they’d had similar fiendish straws. Anakin had learned how to insert the little bastards without a problem, but he always asked Obi-Wan to do it for him – because Obi-Wan had never quite managed to master the process, and Anakin was a damned brat.

Bad enough when it was juice.

One way or another, Rex was conscious enough to shift and bite down on the plastic packet. It was always a wonder to watch the soldiers’ regenerative powers at work. As the level of mostly artificial plasma lowered, color drained back into Rex’s face, the nasty burns along truly unfair cheekbones fading as muscle and skin reknit. He could smell the distressing blood-and-raw-meat stench fading, and only then did he start to relax.

When things had started to go to hell around the globe, the powers that be had huddled together around their failing infrastructure and went looking for fantastical solutions to unnatural problems. Obi-Wan could only imagine the levels of exhaustion and terror that had led someone to the conclusion that vampires might be immune to the infections that spread the zombie virus. The sheer potential of that going horribly wrong was at least one movie franchise long, if not several, yet somehow they’d dedicated enough science to make artificial vampires. Oh, technically it wasn’t vampirism, but ‘drank blood, super fast and strong, sunburn to death within minutes, resting vitals dropping down far enough to pass as dead’ was close enough for everyone but petty bureaucrats and pedantic assholes.

Even at the time, Obi-Wan had cynically noted how that meant both a short leash, and a strong vested interest in keeping as many people from going zombie as possible. He’d also noted the infuriating demographics of those who were selected for and survived the process of becoming vampires.

He tried not to think on that much nowadays, because the heightened blood pressure and carnage bothered Rex.

The packet slurped dry in a way that always raised Obi-Wan’s hackles, then Rex blinked up at him a few times in confusion. “You’re fuzzy,” Rex accused.

“That’s called a beard, dear,” Obi-Wan drawled in his most obnoxious tone, pretending he didn’t also have fur sprouting most places, nor the partial muzzle of a transformation enough to give him speed and jumping ability enough to get to one of the safe perches they’d set up weeks ago.

The Powers That Be might have created vampires, but they had also somehow missed the small but stubborn population of entirely naturally occurring werewolves (and affiliated were-creatures) around the world. Some, like Obi-Wan and his pack, were doing their damndest to both keep a low profile and help the poor bastards trying to protect the last of humanity.

Some, like Obi-Wan, might have become unwisely open to certain non-lycanthropes due to unfortunate feelings – not that Obi-Wan was ever about to complain about that.

Either his sarcastic tone or the guttural noises of thwarted zombies sank in, because Rex stiffened and glared down. “Fuck!” he hissed, thighs clenching in a way that Obi-Wan both very much did and very much did not appreciate. His eyes damn well crossed at the wiggle that followed – he could only guess that Rex was going for a weapon that he didn’t have.

“Stop that!” he snarled, letting the wolf out a little more. He needed the muscle and mass to keep Rex in place, longer paws digging into the tree trunk for a slightly more secure hold that was notgroping his idiot boyfriend.

His idiot boyfriend leveled a flat, unimpressed look at him. “Really?” Rex grumped. His eyes flicked down, then back up. “Right now?”

“So sorry, but some of us don’t need to ingest extra blood to get it up, and under less fraught circumstances this might be my idea of a good time.” He tried for a drawl, but it was much more strained than he meant. Oh well, it wasn’t like Rex didn’t know he could be ridiculous. And it really wasn’t intentional.

“Less fraught meaning less zombies?”

“And less daylight.” Obi-Wan didn’t mean for his tone to turn sharp, either, but it did even as he very carefully wrapped his arms tighter around Rex. He made certain not to disturb the poncho, but he, at least, wanted the reassurance. He still wasn’t over the terror of having to go mostly wolf to grab Rex from the pack he was trying to slow down, nor the horror of slinging him over a shoulder to go pelting through the trees. Madcap desperation to find a tree stand before a foggy dawn was not his idea of fun. “Your life is worth a hell of a lot more than an inconvenient hard on.”

Rex huffed a laugh, leaning in to rest his cheek against Obi-Wan’s. “Stop being charming.”

“I’m afraid that’s going to happen approximately never. So sorry.”

For a moment, it was just them – two idiots cuddled together, healthy and alive on a genuinely beautiful, bright Spring morning.

Then a terrible gurgling noise broke the moment, and Rex glanced down at the pack still mingling around the tree, groaning their displeasure at not remembering how to climb. “Was that a zombie?” he asked, as if he damn well didn’t know the truth.

“Shapeshifting burns calories,” Obi-Wan reminded him primly. “As does marathon sprints lugging around idiots like potato sacks.”

“That explains the bruises on my stomach,” he muttered, shifting about to rummage in one of Obi-Wan’s pockets. “Jerky?”

“Please.” All in all, now that matters were calmer, Obi-Wan almost hoped that a rescue would take its sweet time. This was almost nice – all things considered.

~end

[cutelittleluckysoul]

Manners

A/N: Alright I haven’t written something in years so I hope this isn’t complete shit. Feedback would be much apprechiated but I won’t force you to like my stuff. 

Words: 2722

Pairing: Obi Wan x Reader

Warnings: SMUT, Master kink?, dominant Obi Wan, spanking, hair pulling, I think that is it. Also reader is not a Padawan anymore!

________________________________________________________________

This is just great, you thought to yourself. This was your first solo mission and you have been fucking captured. It was supposed to be an easy mission but somehow this wasn’t the case at all. And now here you were, behind some bars, waiting. You could already hear the voice of your Master. “I knew you weren’t ready yet. But you had to be stubborn and blah blah blah.” 

Master Kenobi always babied you in some way. He didn’t really believe in you.You didn’t know him any different but it just was getting on your last nerve. It wasn’t helping that he looked so damn handsome while scolding you either and you couldn’t do a damn thing about it. How you wished to sometimes whip that damn smirk off of his face. It frustrated you to no end. And more nights than you liked to admit, he was in your head helping you get off. You would never admit that of course, especially not to said Jedi. Maker knows what would happen if he knew. The embarrassment and humiliation would be unbearable and you are sure that you would have to move to a different galaxy. 

Before you could get into your head any further you were startled by a commotion. As you looked outside your cell you saw your guard laying on the ground dead. In front of him was no one other than Obi Wan himself, looking rather displeased as he ran a hand through is soft hair. Or at least you think it was soft. Not that you knew for certain but you always imagined it to be. Oh what you would give to run your fingers through his luscious hair and mess it up.

Shaking your head to get a clear mind you looked at Obi Wan rather sheepish. Said Jedi opened your cell and you finally could get out and stand up to your full height again. Stretching your hurting limbs you thanked him but assured him that you had everything under control and that this was part of your plan. He smirked “I am sure it was Young One. Now if you don’t have any other great plans I would advise you to follow me.” With that he turned around and made his way back to the ship with which he came to your rescue. 

Inside you finally noticed that you were alone with him. He didn’t bring any back up. Of course he didn’t. Master Obi Wan “I am so good I don’t need help’ Kenobi. You rolled your eyes at this, sitting down in the co-pilot seat and you two flew back to Coruscant. The whole flight he didn’t say another word to you, which irritated you even more. 

Landing on Coruscant you were quick to leave the ship, heading straight for your room, not even noticing Obi Wan was following you the whole time. In the comforting space of your room you let out a frustrated huff. “Stupid Obi Wan. Thinking everyone needs his help and that he is the saviour in every damn life situation. Would have been just fine without him. Who needs him anyway?” You were pacing. “I am quite certain that you needed me, Young One. In more way than one.” Stopping in your tracks, you slowly turned around. There he stood leaning against the wall, arms crossed. Somewhere along the way from the ship to your room he lost his cloak. Noticing this you couldn’t help but eye him up. Oh what you would give to take off his clothes. I bet he looks even more beautiful without all those clothes. Would he be ripped? No that wouldn’t fit him but I am sure he is muscular. Would he have a hairy chest? Would he have scars? I would love to kiss every inch of his skin. Your mind was running wild and you bit your lip in concentration. 

You were so caught up in your head you didn’t noticed Obi Wan stepping forward until he was just a few inches away from you. Snapping out of your thoughts, that have turned very dirty now. You looked up into his crystal blue eyes, that looked darker than usual. “You should watch your mouth little one, or I might have to punish you for disrespecting your Master like this.” His voice sounded strained almost husky. His looked told you to dare him and speak up again. See what happens. And you did. Of course you did “Well if said Master would just have a little bit of faith and wasn’t treating me like I am a Youngling, I wouldn’t have to. Maybe if he would pull the stick out of his arse I would have asked him for help in the first place too.” His nose flared and something flashed behind his eyes. Oh you were in for it now

Stepping even more forward his nose almost touching yours. “You need to learn some manners.” He almost growled. “Maybe you aren’t a great of a teacher as you think.”, you whispered. That seemed to be the last straw and his lips were on yours in seconds. It was all teeth and tongue and to be honest you were quite surprised with the intensity of the kiss. Trying to keep up, you pressed yourself against him, your hands tangling in his hair. It really is as soft as it looks. His hands grasping your hips almost bruisingly, making you whimper. He pulled away smirking. The fucker didn’t seem to be fazed at all, whereas you were already a panting mess. “Take off your clothes”, he all but commanded. You were standing there dumbfounded. Did he really just as me to get undressed? This must be a dream. A wonderful, perfect dream. Apparently you weren’t fast enough and Obi Wan snarled in displeasure. 

Letting out a squeak, Obi Wan had spanked you rather harshly. You couldn’t deny that it made you incredibly wet. “Now, little one.” Oh how you loved the tone of his voice. You were biting your lip you started to get undressed. Obi Wan watched your every move but you couldn’t read his face. He looked completely neutral. His eyes were betraying him though.They showed complete hunger. Standing in front of him, now fully exposed, your nipples hard from the chilly temperature. It felt like an eternity when Obi Wan finally started to move. His hands felt rough yet so soft against your soft flesh. He travelled up over your tummy to your breast. He pinched your hard perks rather harshly making you whimper in the process. This seemed to please him because he did this a few times. Pinching and pulling. Moaning and whimpering you were growing wetter by the second. When he put his mouth on one of the your breath stopped for a short moment. His beard felt so rough against your tender flesh while his mouth and tongue felt so warm in contrast. Maker he is really good at this. How many people got to witness this already before you? He was leaving love bites on your breast and you were enjoying every second of it. One of his hand travelled down and dipped between your folds, collecting your wetness. He brushed against your clit and you moaned, your legs trembling. No other person has ever touched you and you were feeling pleasure beyond anything you have ever felt while doing it yourself. You knew you were  already addicted to his touch. But his feather light touches were torture and you needed more. You wanted everything at ones. His mouth, his fingers, his cock. 

“Obi Wan…”, you moaned and tugged at his hair. He lifted his face and looked at you. “That is not how you address me, little one”. Another harsh slap landed on your ass and you cried out at the stinging sensation. “Master Kenobi”, you whimpered. “That is better. Now tell me my sweet girl what is it that you want?”, he groaned into your ear, tugging at the lope. How can I possibly tell you all the things I want, no, need you to do to me? “Well if you don’t speak up I guess you don’t want anything. I will go then”, with that he turned around and walked to your door. Quickly you grasped his arm. “Don’t leave…please…”, you tugged him back to you. He looked down at you grinning. “Then tell me what you want”. Contemplation what you wanted you looked at him. “I want you. All of you, your fingers, your mouth, your cock. Please Master Kenobi”, trying your best seducing look you bit your lip afterwards. He smirked. “Now that is quite greedy, little one, don’t you think? And that after you were so disrespectful towards your Master. Do you really think you deserve all that?” You were shaking your head “No Master. I don’t. Of course you can decide what I need. But please Master give me something”.

He looked you up and down, “Kneel.” You blinked but knelt down anyway. Looking up at him he grinned again. He seemed to always do this. “Now isn’t it better when you listen to me, my sweets? Now show me what that pretty and disrespectful little mouth of yours can do and I will consider giving you something in return.” He unfastened his pants and got his cock out. It was thick and veiny and you weren’t quite sure if you could fit all of him into your mouth. But you were determined to try. Spitting into your hand you slowly started to pump his length. Giving a small peck on the tip in the process. Obi Wan gave a content humm, encouraging you to go on. You placed the flat of your tongue against the point where his dick ended and his balls began to slowly start licking a bold stripe straight to the top. You repeated this motion a couple of times and than sank your mouth over the tip sucking lightly. Bobbing your head slowly you started to take more and more of him into your mouth. Obi Wan moaned in pleasure and you never heard anything more beautiful. You engraved the sound into your memory.

He tangled his hands into your hair and  you moaned around his dick. Having the half of him now in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down you stroked the remaining part. You were growing even more wet as he started to thrust forward, making you gag in the process. He continued to do so, holding you still by the hair, tears sprung to your eyes. You looked up at him and saw that he was watching you intendly. He groaned at the look of you down at your knees, tears in your eyes and spit on your chin. You were truly a sight to behold. 

After some more moment he pulled you away from him by your hair. Drawing in a big gulp of air you looked up at him confused. “You deserve a treat after behaving so well now.” He pulled you up and placed you onto the bed. The slickness between your legs was rather embarrassing but you didn’t care at all and he seemed to care at all. He even seemed to enjoy it. Obi Wan flipped you over onto your stomach, pulling your ass up by your hips. He landed a few more hard slaps against your ass, Making you moan in the process. You were turned on beyond belief, and you were sure no one else would be able to make you this wet ever again. 

He kneaded the red flesh between his big hands. With one more hard slap he sank himself in you, making both of you moan out in ecstasy. He was stretching you out so well, and even though it hurts slightly you were far too gone to care. Obi Wan gave you a moment before he pulled out almost completely just to push back into you even harder. You grabbed the bed sheet between your fingers, moaning with every pleasurable thrust he gave you. You couldn’t even form a single coherent thought. Your mind was so clouded with pleasure and Obi Wan. All you got out were moans of his name and how good it felt. 

Obi Wan grabbed your hair again and pulled you against his chest. Ramming even faster and harder into you, you dug your nails into his arm that snaked around your middle. His hand pressed flat against your lover stomach and you are certain he could feel himself there. He moaned deeply into your ear “You feel so good, little one. So tight around me. Maker you were made for me hm? Now you will think twice before you disrespect me again won’t you?” He bit into your neck and you mewled. “Answer me!” he growled. “Yes! Oh Yes Master I will! Ah!” He had angled himself differently and was hitting a spot deep within you that made you see stars. Screaming out in pleasure your legs began to shake. “Right there Master! Right there! Please don’t stop please, please, please!” Your please were becoming even more desperate as you neared the edge. You were so damn close. “I can feel you clenching around me my sweet thing. Tell me are you close?” He pulled at your earlobe with his teeth. All you could do was nod but this didn’t seem to satisfy him because he stopped and pulled out of you. You whined and almost cried because you were almost there. 

He flipped you around and spread your legs, pushing himself back into you. You cried out as he rammed himself into you at a relentless pace. Your back arching of the bed you were fastly approaching the end again. You just needed a little more. “Master, please, I am so close I need more”. You didn’t know if he understood you because your words were slurred. You got your answer as one of his hands sneaked between your bodies and started to rub your clit. A silent scream left your lips as you finally tripped over the edge, your legs starting to shape and your nails raiking down his back. He moaned and snapped hard into you. Slowly pulling out of you and jerking himself of hard and fast he came all over your lower stomach.

You were panting in exhaustion trying to comprehend what just happened but were still too blissed out to form a coherent thought. You looked at Obi Wan in a dazed. His hair was all disheveled and he was still wearing his clothes. You started to feel embarrassed and tried to shield yourself but Obi Wan held you back. “Now now, my sweet thing don’t get shy on me now.” You never heard that much affection in his voice. He stood up and went to your fresher. Soon he emerged with a wet washcloths and started to clean you up. You winced lightly as he started to clean between your legs but he made sure to be as careful as he could. Afterwards you got up on wobbly legs to go into the refresher yourself. After using the toilet you looked yourself in the mirror. You hair was a mess, there were hickey littering your chest and there was a very dark one on the junction between your neck and shoulder. On your hips were bruising hand prints and your ass was red. You grinned to yourself. What lovely souvenirs. This was the best sex I could ever possibly have. After a few minutes you came out again with a towel around you to have at least some modesty. After all he was still fully dressed. You were quite surprised to see that Obi Wan was still sitting on your bed. You thought he would have left by now. He smiled warmly at you and you sat down beside him. “I hope I haven’t hurt you?” “No quite the contrary Master, this was one of the best experiences I ever had.”

He smirked, “Good. And I hope you have learned your lesson.”

Smirking back yourself you replied, “I don’t know Master, I might need a refresher of said manners from time to time. You know how stubborn I can get.”

[lake-arrius-caverns]

Prologue - pt 1

content warnings strong language (including the c word)

so i lied im posting it today

here it is, the first part of the prologue and roughly the point where things started to go to shit for the twins 👌 a short one but next part will be posted Sunday!

featuring lots of background characters and bad language (these kids have no decency)

read under the cut or on AO3, cheers 👍

:: First :: || << Previous << || >> Next >> || :: Masterpost ::

— — — — — — — — — — 

“Does anyone believe in prophecy? Or destiny?”

Silence overtook the makeshift camp following the question, directed at nobody in particular. For a few seconds none of the group spoke, the only sound being the merry crackling of the fire sitting on the shoreline of the Imperial City Waterfront. All eyes were now on the ginger Breton, Merrick, whose expression was rather blank as he stared at the fire, lost in deep thought. Absently he petted the head of a large black and grey dog that sat beside him, her tail wagging lazily with contentment. 

“What brought that on?” asked a Dunmer, Nari, her brow raised inquisitively. 

Merrick finally looked up, catching Nari’s eye and shrugging. “Don’t know. Just... something I read-“

“Oh, look out. Merrick’s been reading again!” Fahjoth, another Dunmer, teased as he ran his fingers through his choppy black hair, eliciting a round of laughter from the gathered crowd. Their number was modest tonight - most appeared to be off doing their own thing, if they weren’t currently incarcerated. 

“Wonder which book he nicked this time?” Cassius, a fair-haired Imperial and the de-facto group leader, smirked at Merrick. Despite his young age, he was a talented strategist and thus far the group had thrived under his competent tactics.

Merrick’s freckled cheeks flushed bright pink and he opened his mouth to argue, before settling on a pout instead as he drew a black leatherbound book out from his satchel.

“It’s The Book of the Dragonborn,” he explained, opening the book and thumbing absently through the pages. “It details the contents of an Elder Scroll-“

“The fuck is an Elder Scroll?” 

“-and the prophecy written in it,” Merrick continued, smiling slightly as his dog buried her nose in his hand. “It’s really interesting. But I’m not sure what to think about the concept of predeterminism and all that.” 

“Merrick, mate...” Cassius said. “No offence, but I don’t think anyone here knows what the fuck you’re talking about.” 

Before Merrick could respond, a rustling from the bushes nearby caught everyone’s attention and instantly put everyone on edge - but the group heaved a collective sigh of relief when a third Dunmer, bearing a striking similarity to Fahjoth, emerged in the shadows, hauling a rather large sack along with them. 

“Ey, there she is!” Fahjoth exclaimed cheerfully, “What’ve you-“ 

As quickly as the previous tension left, it doubled back, more palpable than ever. Now illuminated by the glow of the fire, her grave countenance eased into wary relief as she approached, yet did not leave entirely. 

“And she’s alone,” Cassius remarked, suspicion evident in word and gaze. 

“We lost Shorbjorn,” Ribyna said dully, dropping onto the grass besides Fahjoth and resting her head on her hand. Fahjoth’s face fell in mirrored grief, and he immediately offered his twin a bottle of brandy. Ribyna accepted the drink without a second glance and began to drink without hesitation.  

“Ribyna?” Cassius prompted after a few seconds of deafening silence. “What the fuck happened?”

Ribyna’s expression was stony as she eventually responded. “We were seen. Bad timing. The fucker called for the city guard and about 10 of them all came running. That cunt of a captain, Rusant. He was there.” 

A murmur of displeasure rippled throughout the gathering. An altercation with the newly-appointed captain of the city guard, Leonius Rusant, did not bode well for anyone unlucky enough to be involved. “And?” Cassius frowned. “What then? You’re both fast, what was the problem?” 

“Shorbjorn tripped. That’s what the problem was,” Ribyna answered. “They were on him like flies on shit in seconds. He yelled for me to keep running, so I did...”

Once again a somber silence fell over the group, before Abik, a Redguard, spoke up in a low, gravelly tone. 

“It’s alright. It’s only petty theft- he’ll get one, maybe two years at the most-” he began, cautious, but Ribyna only cut him off with a dry scoff devoid of humor. 

“Nah. Shorbjorn decided to fight back. Decked the Captain right in the face. Busted his nose. I heard Rusant - ’I’ll see you hung for that!’”

Once again, a heavy quiet settled over the once cheerful camp, everyone’s faces now reflecting sorrow or anger or a combination of the two. Eventually, the silence was broken by a small Argonian. 

“And you just ran?!” Taneen-Mil spat indignantly at Ribyna, who instantly tensed her shoulders and glared back at him. “You could’ve helped him!”

“And got myself arrested as well?!” Ribyna snapped back. “Yeah, that would’ve been fucking helpful! You would’ve had a shitload of fun starving for a week without any food!” 

“Guys,” Abik interrupted before the confrontation could escalate any further, scratching his beard with exasperation. “Quiet. Taneen, Ribyna wouldn’t have stood a chance. She did right by running away.”

Taneen couldn’t argue, and so he simply settled into a huffing silence. A few moments later though, he stood up. “I’m going to bed,” he announced bitterly. “See you tomorrow.” 

Not long after he departed, the other group members also stood up and bid their various farewells. Before leaving, one of them, a dark-haired Imperial named Vykstrus, stared grimly at Merrick. 

“This is why the whole prophecy, destiny, whatever thing is bullshit. You reckon Shorbjorn was destined to die like this?”

“Leave it, Vyk,” the Bosmer Aerlewen murmured. “Come on.” 

A younger Bosmer, Siriel, cast a melancholy look back towards the group, before they too slunk away and disappeared into the shadows after the others. Eventually, all that remained was Cassius, Fahjoth, Abik, Merrick and Ribyna, the latter of which was still seething judging by the sour look on her face. Merrick gently wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“You don’t blame yourself, do you?” he asked, looking mournful himself. Ribyna didn’t respond for a few moments, but eventually she heaved a despondent sigh.

“I do wonder if... if there was something I could’ve done,” she admitted. Abik was quick to reassure her. 

“Course not. You were outnumbered five to one, kid,” he pointed out. “That’s the way of life for us out here. Either you’re fast and agile enough to escape, or you get caught. Simple as that.“

Ribyna still looked troubled, so Fahjoth pulled her into a rough, one-armed hug. “We’re just glad you made it back safe,” he told her. “What would I have done without my little nuisance, eh?”

Ribyna managed a small grin at that, playfully pushing Fahjoth away. Cassius, despite still looking disappointed, nodded in agreement. “They’re right. It’s better to lose one of us than to lose two.” Eventually he stood up, looking down at Fahjoth curiously. “I’m off. You coming?”

Fahjoth shook his head. “I think I’ll stay here tonight.” He shot a subtle glance towards his twin and back, and Cassius nodded in understanding. 

“Yeah, don’t worry. See you tomorrow then.” He leaned down briefly to give Fahjoth a kiss, before turning and pacing quietly away into the darkness. 

Abik stood with his hands in his pockets, staring thoughtfully up at the stars. “Someone‘s gonna.. take care of Rusant before long, you mark my words,” he said. “Maybe the Gray Fox will step in, if we’re lucky. All I know is.. things can’t keep on like this.” After stretching with a roll of his shoulders, he turned his gaze down to Merrick. “You ready, Merrick?”

Merrick slowly nodded, watching Ribyna with concern. “Yeah...” He slowly got to his feet and rubbed Ribyna’s shoulder sympathetically. “Try not to worry, Ribyna. It wasn’t your fault, ok?” 

Ribyna looked up at Merrick, touching his hand with her own and managing a small smile of gratitude. “Yeah... cheers, mate. See you tomorrow.”

“Bye. Come, Pip.” Merrick headed off in Abik’s wake with his dog trotting along beside him, occasionally glancing over his shoulder to throw a smile or a wave at the twins. Ribyna watched him go, then turned to Fahjoth.

“You didn’t have to stay with me, y’know,” she pointed out. “I’m fine.”

Fahjoth chuckled dryly. “It’s fine. I wanted to. I can get some anytime.”

Ribyna wrinkled her nose in distaste and chortled. “Too much information, bro. Gods, you’re a humble bastard, aren’t you?”

“You know it.” Fahjoth grinned, but then his face fell into a worried frown. “You had a close call tonight, y’know. You’ll have to be more careful in future.”

“Really? I was thinking of going in with a blindfold on next time.”

“I’m serious,” Fahjoth sighed. “We’ve been lucky so far, but more and more of us are getting nicked by the day. Sorak, Pif and now Shorbjorn...” He lapsed into silence, staring into the flames for a few moments. “Right, come on then. Let’s get some sleep ourselves.” 

Fahjoth stood up and tossed a nearby bucket of water on the woodpile, extinguishing the fire and plunging them into darkness. Once their eyes became used to the gloom, the Waterfront was bathed in the cool silver glow of the waning moons above. “Let’s hope those bastard rats haven’t chewed through our shit again.” 

Ribyna nodded mutely, hauling herself to her feet and trudging after her twin brother towards shelter. Despite her friends’ reassurances, there was a heavy weight in her gut that just wouldn’t shift, the night’s events replaying over and over in her mind until eventually she would find sleep.

[eryiss]

ok ok ok "Bite me" and "If you insist" bUt it's before freed and laxus actually got together so it's more awkward funny "haha what if he actually did it.... unless"

Prompts: ‘Bite Me’ & ‘If you Insist’  Prompt List here

Pairing: Fraxus

Raiting: Explicit N S F W

Read it Elsewhere: AO3, Fanfiction

“Bite Me”

"Bite me."

"Well, if you insist."

The words left Laxus' mouth before he could stop himself. He and Freed looked at each other, sitting either side of a camp fire. They were returning from a mission together and, rather than taking the train home, Freed had suggested that they walk home and camp overnight, as they had the supplies. Laxus had agreed – anything to avoid a long train ride – and now the two were sitting in the grass as evening turned to night. Laxus had been mocking Freed for a less than dignified fight which ended up with hi, face first in some pretty wet mud, which had prompted the entire conversation.

And, as the reality of what Laxus had said hit him, he blushed bright red. Why had he said that? Fuck.

Laxus had always been close to Freed, and was unashamed to admit he found the man sexy. But he had never acted on the occasional impulses he felt towards the man. An occasional wank to the thought of the man naked beneath him – or above him, more recently – was enough to keep his needs at bay.

And yet he had just essentially flirted with the man. Freed was looking back at him, an eyebrow crooked and his face illuminated by the open flames. Fuck this was awkward.

"Sorry," Laxus muttered. "Ignore-"

"I do," Freed interrupted, smirking a little now.

"What?" Laxus frowned.

"I do insist," Freed's smirk got wider, and he shifted slightly. He was purposefully presenting more of his neck to Laxus now. "So I'd hurry up if I were you."

Fuck. That was hot. Really fucking hot.

Laxus moved without thinking, moving towards Freed and planting his lips against Freed's neck. He bit and nibbled at the pale skin, almost not believing that this was happening. It felt unreal, and when Freed let out a slightly shuddering moan as Laxus' light abuse on his neck, an aroused shiver rushed through Laxus. That sound was so much hotter than Laxus had imagined.

He wasn't going to question why it was happening, instead he was going to make the best of it. He ran a hand over Freed's clothed torso, feeling the strong muscle that made up his captain's body. Many nights these abs had been in Laxus' thoughts, and to touch them sent blood straight to his dick.

Shit this was so good.

As he felt Freed's hands running over his body, Laxus felt a small moan overtake him. Freed was as into this as Laxus was, and that was enough to push Laxus further.

He reached to the bottom of Freed's shirt and slowly ran his hands under it. The feeling of his calloused hands against Freed's bare stomach was better than he could have possibly imagined. God, Freed was so fucking sexy, and to see him in such a state of disarray while moaning was fucking beautiful. Laxus took a moment to enjoy the sight before him, grinning at Freed before he started attacking Freed's neck with his teeth again.

His hands slid further up Freed's body, unbuttoning Freed's shirt as he did so. Freed was doing the same to him, tugging the blonde's shirt over his head and placing it beside him. The chill of the cold air sent a shiver down his body, but he ignored it.

"God you're hot," Laxus whispered harshly into Freed's ear. He was running his hand down Freed's stomach again, relishing in the washboard stomach below him. "You always look so fucking sexy. Drives me crazy."

"Hypocrite," Freed panted, eyes widening as he looked up. "You know how tight those leather pants are, right? And that damn purple shirt you insist on wearing, it hugs your body so well. You're a natural tease."

Fuck, Freed thought he was hot? It made Laxus' dick quiver.

"You think I'm a tease," Laxus continued, now straddling Freed as they explores each other's bodies. "That fucking swimsuit you wear, you know how revealing that is? Drives he crazy every damn time I see you in it."

"Why do you think I wear it?" Freed smirked, and Laxus looked at him. The fucker!

Without speaking, Laxus pushed Freed down against the grass below him. His shirt and hair spread out below him, and Laxus watched with slightly dilated eyes. Freed was below him, his shirt open exposing his incredibly body, looking up at him with a grin both seductive and enchanting. How this situation had come to be Laxus wasn't sure, but fuck he was glad it was happening. This was the hardest he had ever been.

He leant down and started to kiss Freed again, hands roaming around his chest. When Freed gasped, Laxus saw his chance to get revenge for the years of Freed's apparent teasing in that damn swimsuit. If this happened again; Laxus would rip the damn thing off him and take him where he stood.

His hand slid down Freed's abs before hovering over Freed's bulging crotch. He smirked into the kiss and began to grope the man.

"Fuck. Ahh," Freed let out a slight quivering moan as Laxus began to palm at his dick through his trousers.

There was no shame seen in his actions, openly mauling and clawing at Freed's straining dick like an animal on heat. He had spent many a night thinking of a situation like this, and he would be damned if he was going to waste it. These groans and whines that left Freed's mouth were music to Laxus' ears, and he was determined to make as many of them as he could.

He carelessly fought against Freed's fly, eventually opening it and reaching inside his tight boxers. He started to pump the man's thick cock, which spasmed in his hand and made the rune knight moan into their kiss. Laxus was growing addicted to those groans.

After tugging and playing with Freed's member, getting as many delicious moans as he could, Laxus pulled Freed's dick out from his boxers, admiring the beauty of the quivering thing.

The things Laxus wanted to do to it…

He began to pump it slowly, moving his lips away from Freed's mouth to his neck again. The rune knight groaned loudly into the nights sky, unabashed and overwhelmed by the pleasure of Laxus' hands. His eyes were closed as he writhed against the grass, and Laxus watched his lover as lust took over him. It was a fucking incredibly sight to see him like this, and Laxus loved it.

When he felt Freed come closer to orgasm, Laxus quickly removed his hand, and the other man let out a small groan of displeasure. Laxus was quick to remove his own dick from his pants, making sure both his and Freed's cocks slid against each other.

He started to gyrate his hips, rubbing their dicks together in a teasing motion.

"Fucks sake," Freed almost whimpered.

"That's for the fucking speedo," Laxus whispered huskily into Freed's ear before biting at his neck again.

Before Freed could say anything else, Laxus grabbed both their dicks in his hand and started to pump them. The feeling of Freed's dick being jerked alongside his own was intense, made infinitely better by the feeling of his body against Freed's. God Freed was so hot, Laxus didn't know how he managed to keep his hands off him for so long.

Freed was something of a mess now, and Laxus loved seeing it. His clothes were dishevelled, his cock straining as it was pumped, his neck plastered with hickeys and marks, and his face contorted by restrained pleasure.

To be the man responsible for making Freed like this felt incredible.

Laxus was on him again a moment later, relishing every part of his lover. His body, his moans, his dick, his need. It was all so overwhelming, and Laxus wanted to make Freed feel as good as he did. He kneaded the man's torso again, before bringing his lips down to his chest and playing with his nipples with his teeth; all while still stroking both of their dicks together.

He knew he was getting close to cumming; who could have any endurance in a situation like this. And Freed would be close too, and Laxus wanted to make sure this was as good as it could be.

As the feeling of orgasm flooded him, rocking him to the core, he went to kiss Freed again. It was intense and sloppy and needy and hungry, and Laxus started to shake as his dick got closer and closer to the edge. He knew this was going to be explosive, and it was already fucking incredible to feel like this. And it was only going to get better.

And then he came.

It felt like fireworks had been lit throughout him, as if lightning had replaced his blood and was coursing through his veins. This was so much better than all the times he had touched himself to Freed, so much more powerful. It was burning fire inside him, and it was completely incredible.

As he came over the both of them, his teeth clamped down on Freed's lip in a full bite, to which Freed let out a quivering moan. He buckled his hips into Laxus' still pumping hand, and soon hot cum was shooting from his dick as well, and his eyes were open wide as his own orgasm flooded his sensed and drove him to madness. Laxus watched in a silent, horny awe as Freed spent his dick in front of him, came on him. It was beautiful.

Laxus continued to pump and tug at their dicks until seemingly every drop of cum left their balls, and they were left a sweating, half naked mess. They looked at each other in silence, noses close to touching.

The blonde's dick was still half hard at the sight of Freed under him. It was fucking hot.

As much as he wanted to stay like this forever, Laxus climbed off Freed and allowed him to sit up. They didn't make an effort to look less dishevelled or put any more clothes on; both of their stomachs were too covered in cum for that anyway. They didn't even bother to put their dicks away, there could be nothing hidden or to be embarrassed about between them after that. They just sat next to each other.

"Well," Freed said, panting slightly with a fragile voice. "I think it's fair to say that our friendship is… somewhat affected by this."

"For the better, or for the worse?" Laxus asked.

"If we plan on doing more of what we just did," Freed mused, before grinning. "Then definitely for the better."

"You can bet your ass we're doing more of this," Laxus confirmed, feeling almost giddy. He looked to Freed, meeting his eyes with a grin. "So, you like biting, huh?"

"That a problem?" Freed challenged.

"Oh fuck no," Laxus smirked, and he was on Freed a moment later.

[ramblinganthropologist]

Inktober Day 18 - Bottle

Summary: Acting is hard enough, especially when there’s fight scenes involved. Briala was ready for that punch to the gut, but not for what came after. Events from the night before bring on a whole new headache. Man, this is why she hates method actors.

---

There was nothing like band practice after filming to remind you just how fucking exhausted you were. Everything hurt, and that was putting it mildly. Even the parts she didn't have hurt. How the hell did she get a phantom ache in a limb she never had?

“You ok over there, Bri?”

Briala turned, muscles twinging. The bassist from her band, a short dwarven woman, had left just as she did. She managed a smile, but even that hurt.

“Just... worn out. We're doing a lot of action shit on set lately.”

Why did Avery Hawke have to be so goddamn active anyway? Briala spent half her time in costume climbing onto her costar like she was some kin of shoulder gremlin. When she wasn't doing that, she was running around in prop armor that probably weighed as much as the real shit, going through telegraphed fights and getting her ass kicked. To say she was tired... tired wasn't even the right word for it. She was fucking wiped.

“Don't break your vocal chords, we need you ready for Sunday.” The dwarf patted her on the back. “Get some rest. You look like shit.”

“Gee, thanks!” Briala stuck out her tongue as her band mate disappeared into the night. “Asshole.”

Sighing, she kept walking. It was a short distance to where she lived, and it wasn't like people knew her on sight yet anyway. There were plenty of elves with brown hair and blue eyes anyway – maybe they didn't have as much metal in their face as she did, but it took the heat off. It wasn't like she was a certain seven foot tall Antivan who couldn't avoid people if his life depended on it. For that, she was glad to be short; it was probably the only time in her life she was.

She was also thirsty. Practice had taken it out of her. However, much to Briala's displeasure when she made a grab for her water bottle, the condensation caused it to slip out of her hands. She swore as it smacked hard into her foot and rolled away.

“Oh come on, do I seriously gotta run some more?”

Groaning, the elf broke out into a slow jog to catch her water bottle as it rolled away thanks to the slight hill she had been standing on. At one point, it rolled out of her sight. However, the great thing about being elven  was being able to see in the dark. There it was, half hidden by a trash can it had bumped up against.

Sighing in relief, she reached down to grab it. “Now I'm even thirstier.”

Off went the lid, and into her mouth it went. However as  the first mouthful went down, Briala's eyes widened and she spat it out onto the ground. Rust and salt filled her mouth and made her want to throw up. But she didn't. She swallowed, and man did her stomach not like that. At least once it tried to get it up, but she kept it down.

Spitters were quitters.

“Gross... those fuckers must've messed with my bottle when I was in the bathroom.” Scowling, she unscrewed the lid and dumped it into the nearby sewer. “I'm gonna get them for sure the next time I see them. Now I've got this damn taste in my mouth and I'm still thirsty.”

Pouting a little, Briala returned to her path of heading for home where there would be plenty of not fucked with water for her to drink. After that, it would be another night of sleeping like she was dead, then filming in the morning. Lather, rinse, repeat.

---

B: Yo, whoever fucked with my bottle last night is a real asshole.

Nobody had answered her text in the group chat before Briala had to put away her phone. Into the hidden pocket of her prop armor it went. Hopefully when she got her ass beat, it wouldn't get knocked around. She really didn't want to have to redo this scene because modern technology reared its ugly head on the streets of Kirkwall during a street brawl.

“Don't kick me in the kidney this time, ok?” Malcolm was also in armor and waiting for her to climb on up. Briala didn't quite have Avery's legendary technique worked out, but she did well enough. Up she went, and soon she was sitting on her costar's shoulders. In a few seconds, she would be launching straight into the fake fight and then it would be go time.

“Don't have your kidney where my foot is.” Briala grimaced as she held her stomach as a passing pain made her wonder if her appendix was about to go nuclear. It left her soon enough, but she made a note to check it out later. “Anyway, get ready. It's almost go time.”

It was a long way to the ground from Malcolm's massive shoulders. Add in the fact she'd be jumping off... and well it wasn't as if she was afraid of heights, but damn if Avery Hawke hadn't been an extra little bitch. They had told her when she signed on it be pretty active, but this was just ridiculous. Plus, what with her stomach and all, she could already feel the urge to throw up returning. Hopefully it wouldn't be on her costar – he wouldn't like that. Plus, retake and all that.

As she said – really wanted to do this in one shot. There was only so many times she could launch herself off a full grown man in one day.

The director called action from off set, and then there they were in the middle of Kirkwall's Lowtown, circa 9:31 Dragon. Just as it was written on the script, the gang advanced. Behind them was a tied up elf – Hawke's cousin. From where Briala was sitting, they looked quite realistic. Then again, from where she was sitting she could also see where the Velcro was.

It was a toss up sometimes.

“Didn't think you two would actually show up.” Head bozo, actually a pretty chill guy, pointed his finger at them. “Alright, now drop the 20 sovereigns and back away. Nobody has to get hurt today.”

Up on Malcolm's shoulders, Briala smirked and leaned hard on her Ferelden roots. “Oh, I think you gave up that option when you tied Eth up. Now, if anyone doesn't want to go see the healer, I'd advise you to leave now.”

They didn't, of course. Instead, one of them took a choreographed step forward. Then came the sword, fake, swinging straight at Malcolm's midsection. He blocked with his staff, and that was her cue. In the blink of an eye, Briala stood, made a grab for her prop sword, and in one jump launched off her costar's shoulders just as he pulled his staff back.

The prop swords met – sound effects would be added later – and the grunt she had been tasked to land on fell back as promised. He cushioned her fall, but there was still a mild ache in her ankles. Still, off she went, shield now on her arm and ready to go.

“Have it your way then!”

The fight was now on – team Hawke vs team assholes. Every time Briala's sword was hit, she felt the vibrations all the way through the arm she had. Instead of wearing her out like it normally did, she felt even more ready to go. She leaned into the weird adrenaline rush – might as well. The next part hurt. It was written on script she got punched in the gut by an opportunistic gang member. No cushioning made it much better.

The dull thump to her gut dropped her to her knee. She wasn't seeing stars, though. Something was bubbling up in her stomach like she was about to throw up. It wasn't vomit, though – her entire body felt hot, almost as if it was boiling in her prop armor. The overhead lights weren't doing this as she managed to rocket up, both feeling and not feeling the sensation of pain at the same time.

Kick that guy's ass.

That was what her instincts said – choreography evaporated from her mind. Instead she just launched forward with more speed that she had ever felt in her life. Her prop sword might have been fake, but it still probably hurt when she smacked down with all her weight.

“Cut!”

Briala didn't stop, not until Malcolm grabbed her moments later. The guy on the floor had a bloody nose, a black eye, and looked absolutely terrified. He wasn't the only one – she was struggling hard, instinct screaming kick that guy's ass.

It wasn't until she saw her own reflection in Malcolm's fake armor that she realized something was wrong. Her pupils were dilated and a red tinge had taken over her eyes. When had her incisors been that sharp either?

Her costar carried her off stage past stunned crew and cast. He eventually plopped her down far away from the fight, keeping close should she try to bolt for it. Briala just sunk down against the wall, energy spent. Whatever had gone on was over now. The pain was back too.

“Oww...”

Malcolm shook his head as he sat down so they could have an actual eye to eye conversation. Otherwise, she would have been looking at his belly button. He gave her the once over, lingering on her face. His eyebrows knit together, but he said nothing.

Briala rubbed her sore gut to lessen the pain. “He got me good.”

“You got him better. He's lucky you didn't break something.” Malcolm was still looking at her. “Did you drink anything weird?”

Huh.

The smaller actor's mind felt like soup right then. Higher reason was kind of out of the picture. However, she heard the words 'drink' and 'weird' which were enough. The image of the night before struck her almost as hard as the fist.

The bottle.

Working out words was a little easier with time. “My water bottle tasted weird last night after it got away from me. I had to dump it out before I went home.”

“What did it taste like?”

The answer came not from words but a dull realization. Sometime during the fight, Briala's teeth had bit down hard on the inside of her cheek. It wasn't a bad bite, but it was hurt enough to bleed. It was that same salty, rust-tinged flavor she had experienced the night before, and it was enough to make her head snap up.

Red eyes, sharp teeth... shit.

“Shit. I think someone gave me blood.”

Malcolm nodded, no doubt coming to the same realization. “Dragon blood, to be exact. Didn't think you could still get that today, but your little power play out there says otherwise.”

Briala's stomach rolled, and it wasn't from the punch. She wasn't a mage like Malcolm, but she knew enough about her character's life to put the pieces together. Part of why she had to be such a crazy asshole in a fight was that Avery Hawke was a reaver. While she didn't understand how it worked, something about drinking dragon's blood and being in pain triggered the rush of strength and adrenaline that made the champion's fights so dramatic.

Now she understood those passage in Avery's diary about the sudden surge that had pushed her forward in her most deadly fights. If she was right... she swallowed past the lump in her throat at the thought. Well, it wasn't good.

“Guess I'm gonna need a trip to the healer after this, huh?”

Yeah, for a blood test. Hopefully in the Digital Age they had somehow figured out a test for reaver that didn't involve an orderly being punched. Still, Briala couldn't worry about that now. There was an asshole out there with dragon's blood who apparently had a hard on for giving it to people. Was she the only one? Or was there more out there?

Man, she really didn't need to think about this now. Her head hurt enough without being victim zero of a reaver creation spree. Talk about taking method acting a step too far. Her only hope was that the effects were temporary. After all, she had only had a little bit... something like a permanent boost should take more.

At least... she hoped so. That was how it worked, right?

[mirceakitsune]

Artificial Intelligence: The baddest hoax in modern history

Over the years I've dealt with a good amount of crazy. I've seen more shit in nearly 3 decades than I imagined I could in 10 lifetimes, as far as sheer human madness is concerned. In the last few years it has rapidly gotten worse, and recently it seems to have reached new unprecedented heights.

In this episode, it's my displeasure to present to you the sentient computer... A.K.A. machine learning, A.K.A. artificial intelligence. No folks we aren't talking about a physical electronic brain... which may actually be possible one day, once scientists figure out how to reconstruct all neurons in the human brain and map them to a circuit of quantum bits. We're talking classic binary code running on your average 64 bit processor (C++ / Java / Whatever) which is supposedly capable of sentient processes... most notably recognizing the meanings and circumstances of objects in photos, up to facial recognition within complex images. Said functionality is supposedly achieved, I fucking kid you not, by training your computer like an animal or a human baby. This delusion seems to be embraced not only by ordinary people, but even programmers who are expected to know the matter at hand, and horrifyingly by government officials who believe this bullshit will give them some magical powers like in the movies. A few cases of this fairytale include, but are tragically not limited to:

Facebook supposedly recognizes who you are and automatically tags you whenever you upload a photo. Obviously this isn't because FB has money to throw at an army of moderators who stalk people in realtime to tag their shit, and because that's controversial and stupid they're hiding it behind an AI story, that would be crazy... it's the midget trapped in the body of a computer doing it!

The human-computer chimera may soon be "hired" by the airport, where it would scan the faces of travelers as they walk through the gate. Dozens of them... in a few seconds... in the same image.

British police are teaching an AI what child porn looks like. You can be sure it's not because they're looking for an excuse to play around with that material, hehe... it's just so the little man in the Windows system tray can learn how to "detect abused kids". Unfortunately for them the program is doing a bad job at singling out them kiddo butts, because it's confusing them with photos of sand dunes in the desert. But not to worry: The police is sure that the dead God is on their side, and their program will one day spot those sexy children without error! Hmmm... I wonder if mister computer man can develop a pedophilia fetish...

An old news article suggested an AI which, hold on to your horses everyone, was capable of detecting gay faces. Yep: If it sees any picture of you, it's able to tell whether you are homosexual or not.

Another AI can supposedly analyze the way you walk, determining if you have criminal intent based on how a camera sees you moving down the street. You better not be dancing back there dawg, the computer people will think you're gettin' ready to mug some homeboy!

An elaborate hoax known as Facerig has done an impressive job at convincing people that a program is capable of understanding not just your face, but your facial expressions... without even needing some super high-resolution video, just a shitty blurry webcam. Their hoaxed demos even show animated 3D characters imitating the facial expressions of someone in a camera... which I assume is either edited manually into the video, or the character is controlled in realtime by someone watching your face on camera (horrifying to think it might be without some users even knowing it).

At least a few of those articles managed to convince me that I couldn't possibly be a member of the human race, even if I look human when I see myself in the mirror (otherkin aspects aside). Nope; There's just no way I'm part of the same species as those creatures: My brain wouldn't be capable of coming up with this bullshit even as I'm dreaming at night, I must have been designed by aliens using a properly debugged brain structure! Jesus fucking Christ on a flying carpet... what in the ever loving fuck?

Now there are multiple reasons why this whole thing has become infuriating for me: One is the fact that whenever I try shedding a ray of reasoning on this trainwreck, I'm immediately attacked by virtually everyone who refuses to accept this is realm of fantasy. At the same time I worry about what is actually going on, seeing that a lot of effort and money were put into this hoax so it's obviously happening for a reason (likely a smoke screen for extreme mass surveillance plans). Further more it makes an unique mockery out of both biological life and programming alike, via the demented insinuation that a CPU is capable of emulating sentience which is a requirement for any content recognition of this degree. There was once a time when I was fascinated with the idea of AI and machine learning, and was planning to learn more about it and possibly play around with such code... today I'm disgusted to even hear about the subject, after those fuckers disfigured and diseased it too with their madness and refusal to understand basic logical limitations.

Because common sense doesn't seem to be obvious to everyone, I'm going to clarify why this is impossible, by explaining the impassible obstacles a computer would have to overcome in order to do something as unthinkably complex as facial recognition. For the proposed functionality, a mindless piece of code would have to do the following things, all on its own using only pixels of different colors from an image:

First of all it must determine what in the photo is a face, from numerous objects and complex structures that each represent all sorts of things. This is barely doable itself but okay.

Next it must work around the face being shot from any possible angle. The head may be rotated in any position relative to the camera, resulting in a radically different structure being visible in the image.

The person's face may be partly covered. Perhaps there's an obstacle between the face and the camera, like a structure or another person. Maybe they're wearing a scarf or glasses, which they weren't in other images. Maybe their hair is brushed differently and they have an emo haircut covering half of the face. Maybe they're wearing lipstick and the color of their lips is different.

People have different facial expressions in each photo. In one you may be smiling, in one you may be frowning... in one your mouth might be open, in the other it's closed. Faces are always shaped differently.

The lighting conditions are guaranteed to not be identical, both brightness and colors differ. Maybe it's day maybe it's night, maybe the environmental light is reddish maybe the atmosphere is blue, maybe different cameras that shot you used different color adjustment filters.

The average camera (even good ones) is still much more blurry than anything we see with the naked eye. Motion blur is also involved if either you or the camera are moving, if the environment is dark it gets worse. Noise is further introduced by a bit of jpeg compression, as no sane camera wrecks your drive space by saving in lossless png.

Many people still upload low resolution pictures of themselves on the internet. When your picture is 1024 x 768 and you're standing at a distance, there is nearly no usable detail to even attempt to work with on a PC.

Suppose it miraculously managed to single out a face throughout all those obstacles: It needs to measure something and use it as an identifying trait! What, how, why? The apparent distance between your eyes in pixels? How wide your mouth appears to be? How bulgy is your forehead? It doesn't even know what those things represent, not to mention anything can look like a head or eyes or a mouth!

Even if by total defiance of all logic, there was something that could be mathematically measured and the program did manage to calculate it on its own: The computer would also need to compare the data to what is probably trillions of photos in the database! Not only do people look similar so there would be millions of false positives, but doing so many pixel comparisons would require 100 times more memory and processing power than all computers on the planet combined today have!

Are you fucking kidding me? Someone is actually trying to tell me that in actual real life, a shitty piece of x64 code would be capable of doing ALL THAT? What the fuck are people smoking these days? No, really... just go take a walk in the park or meditate on the top off a cliff, then ask yourself the question: "How could I possibly be led to believe this crap"? It's 1000 times easier to board a space shuttle and go to Mars TOMORROW, compared to achieving something that gets even close to this. Even if Jesus himself was still alive and had his superpowers to heal the blind and spawn fish from a basket, even if Moses could make the waters split with his mighty staff... not even they could create something like this, even if they called God himself for reinforcements. If you open your bedroom window and leap right through it, you can be more confident that you'll fly like Peter Pan compared to this shit happening. THIS - IS - NOT - POSSIBLE!

And before people tell me "but the CIA has had facial recognition for decades": Yes they do and that's a totally different matter. Criminologists use one or two photos per suspect (frontal and side shot) which are taken in carefully controlled conditions: It's always from the same angle and distance, the suspect is told not to smile or open their mouth, the lighting is the same, etc. There are also only a few million photos of criminals in the database, rather than trillions of pictures from billions of people... if you have a 10 GHz processor you may be able to do a pixel-to-pixel comparison of one photo against all others in less than a day.

I'm sorry, but some harsh shit had needed to be said about this: Every time this pops up on EFF or other rights groups, I find myself compelled to speak out against a big fat lie seeing how everyone else refuses to. There is seriously no excuse for allowing fairytales and mass hysteria to spread all over the media, without one voice of reasoning exposing this obvious lunacy for many months! Also fuck humanity hard for ruining what could have been a beautiful domain of research if it was kept rational and serious and not turned into a distorted fantasy... especially since I'm a programmer, do not expect me to forgive this mockery, as they've put yet another cherry on the cake the way only this disgusting species is capable of doing.

[empresskira]

Our Loving Angel (ch.7)

Fanfiction | AO3 Age jumping now~!

“You take that back right now, fucker!” Ace growls as he stands in front of an upper classmen, teeth clenching tight as he glares in threat. 

They were both fifteen now, being freshmen in the spring time and the year almost over coming up in May. Sabo had a hard time once they got to the high school as teenagers were brutal with gossip and he had scarring so bluntly obvious. Not only that, but the rumors about how his parents abandoned him and got merely a slap on the wrist and told to live in another state always brought disgust in him—not even getting Stelly taken from them because they showed so much ‘love’ for the boy. It made him always hide his emotions, but deep down it bothered him that he started using his hair to grow out enough to cover the left side of his face, tilting his head to help with that. No matter what, though, Ace stood by his side in reassurance and was always there to snap at anyone looking at the blond wrong. 

“Or what, Freshie?” The guy with his two buddies standing are laughing as they had just told Sabo he was a walking freak show and other things to pull at the way he looked. Sabo was sure he would get over the name calling, but the pain of flames burning him were still very fresh in his memories no matter if it had been three years. 

“I use your face to wipe the floor with!” Ace snaps as he defends his friend with a firm stance and head held high no matter if he hadn’t fully got his growth spurt for height yet, which actually made Sabo taller than him at the moment—even though he wasn’t done growing either. 

Another fight broke out, Sabo never leaving his friend vulnerable even if he was still bothered by it all. A twinge always got to him as he easily twisted one guy’s arm and swung him into the lockers to have the face slam first. It caused the guy to stay down, letting him drop to the ground, and Ace pummeled another guy while kicking the other guy to back off and Sabo let’s his face twist in anger. It boils in him at the thought of someone hurting his friend and he easily shifts fingers to do a type of claw. Approaching the other guy that was kicked away, he grabs to his face and trips him to soon throw him onto his back down to the concrete hall floors heavily. 

“BREAK IT UP!” A teacher is hollering as Sabo quickly grabs to Ace to get him to pull away from the student he had been wailing on, the one to make the comments in the first place. The guy’s face was no doubt going to be bruised, blood coming from a split lip and he could only crumple to the ground in whimpers. 

“Don’t you ever talk about him like that again!” Ace roars out in anger and lets out a dangerous type of growl in his throat to show his displeasure of it even happening in the first place. 

“Ace, Sabo! To the Principle’s office now!” 

That wasn’t the first time they had heard those words and definitely was not the last. 

~.~.~ 

Ace is such a free spirit; Junior year becomes more spontaneous for him as girls start noticing his dreamy body after he began to go on runs through town more. Along with him is Sabo, showing to be rather well-defined and showing to be able to control his emotions better. It fools everyone, giving a smile that is fake to all the people around him except Ace, where he shows a true one that reaches his eyes. As they grow older, it shows how much they would soon enough get people flirting with them, but Sabo was harder to persuade into a date than Ace. 

Which Sabo gritted his teeth when Ace started to date and have a girl hanging onto him like he was some hanger and she was clothes. On most occasions it didn’t last long, but Sabo still had to hold his tongue at what his friend wanted to do and it was evident he placed himself by Ace’s side no matter what. A couple times he tried to appease others by giving in to date, but the girls always got irritated when he didn’t want to engage in any kind of touching with them, being bothered to the max. The farthest he gave was a hand or his arm for them to grasp onto to appease them, but anything more had him direct himself away as even the hand holding pushes his limits. 

“Excuse you?” Ace asks out in disbelief at the new fling he has going on and Sabo approaches in time to witness as Ace shoves the girl off from him. It secretly gives Sabo satisfaction of such a sight and wish he could yank the woman’s hair to get her away from his friend. “Get the fuck away from me if you are going to talk like that!” The words have Sabo pause in his tracks enough away to not disturb what was happening, maybe a little too happy as it looked like a break-up. 

“You pick him over your girlfriend?!” The girl shouts and they hardly noticed Sabo had approached as most people stare while somewhat gathering to have him blend with the crowd. They were right outside of the school and students gossip in hushed tones as they question on what could cause such a thing. 

“Of course! Sabo will always be my best friend!” Ace snaps out with a snarl and the blond realizes how this is about him, making him elated that he was important to his friend still after these years. “And like I give a fuck about if he has a different preference! If you can’t get over yourself to realize I hold someone higher than you because I have been with him since kids then you can forget it!” A hand swings out as he holds himself firm with his words and sneers at the woman. 

“Like I would want to get caught with some fag!” 

“Well honey you dated a half breed!” It was startling to everyone on the words, even to Sabo as he didn’t know that about his friend. It felt like he missed out on something and tried to remember if Ace ever hinted at it. 

“Disgusting!” The girl practically screams as she soon turns away while stalking away with a noise of being revolted. People stare on as Ace soon snarls at all the faces and soon turns to stalk away. 

Sabo had still been a part of the crowd and could see the tension on his friend, making him move. Shifting by people, he soon catches up to his friend as they rode together to school and were headed to Sabo’s car. It was quiet between them as Sabo kept his neutral expression and was trying to understand how he missed something so important. Getting to the car, they got in and began to pull out with the rest of the traffic as Ace scrunches in the seat as he contemplates over something. 

“I don’t want to go home right now.” The words leave Ace plainly and it only takes a couple roads before Sabo follows the request and heads down a dirt road where they knew of an area to park off to the side. Arriving and both getting out, they move along down the small path, not ever seeing anyone else here and Sabo was sure to stay patient for an opening. Feet moved along dirt of the bare path as they made it to the area of an opening in a field, a couple large boulders in place. It wasn’t until they got on the tallest one, sitting down, that Sabo let himself grab his friend’s hand. 

“I’m sorry if I complicate relationships.” Sabo apologizes as he hated seeing some of them fall apart because of him, but at the same time he delved in the fact that Ace still stood by him. 

“No, they don’t deserve me anyways…” Ace states out while turning his head and viewing to green eyes that show all the emotions he would give only for him. “I just can’t believe I let it slip out like I did…” 

“Slip out?” The questioning is to only have Ace clarify more on the meaning behind it. 

“The half breed thing…” Dark eyes stare to his friend and grips his hand with a strained expression pulling to his face. “That was a lie, really…” For some reason, Sabo feels his chest clench with ache at the thought his friend not being into males and he wasn’t quite sure on why. 

“Lie? As in?” The soft questioning only shows Ace a coaxing of acceptance in any way that he would be with his preferences. 

“I’m… I’m pretty sure I am gay.” Ace admits while his free hand rubs to a freckled cheek and drags dark eyes away nervously. “I’m still trying to figure everything out, but something in me is saying that I don’t cater to women like I should.” 

“You shouldn’t have that feeling,” Sabo starts as he shifts to grip his friend’s hand in reassurance. “If you like men, then you like men. If you like both, the you like both. Or if you like women, then you like women. There is no set way, society only sets those and not consider that everyone is different.” He continues as he stares to shocked eyes and made sure to show nothing but full on support. “Ace, don’t rush yourself. Dating isn’t important, especially at our age. If it helps, I don’t even know what I am, but I don’t like concerning over it. I am happy with how everything is. I have you and that’s enough.” Admitting to that all, Ace stares in surprise and let’s his fingers tighten to the hand in his. 

“Sabo,” the name leaves him as he smiles like the warming sun. “I don’t know what I would do without you.” 

“Be dating those god-awful girls.” The blunt answer comes out and makes Ace laugh hard. 

“Probably!” Ace admits while pulling on his friend to bring him closer to give a firm hug. “You are the greatest, Sabo!” The hold causes a festering in Sabo’s chest and returns the hug with a deep inhale as he thrums in bliss of the contact. For some reason, the hug felt to be on a deeper level and green eyes stare up towards the sky, letting himself enjoy the breeze as he noticed how his hands didn’t want to let go. 

“I will always be the greatest for you.” Sabo reassures, his friend gripping tightly in appreciation and soon pulls away with a grin. 

“I know,” Ace comes back with as he laughs with a large smile, eyes closing and let’s himself face up to the sky to let the sun beat down on him with warmth. Their hands find each other again and green eyes couldn’t help but stare in sudden longing at the glowing of his friend. 

Sabo felt his heart skip a beat.

[ecotone99]

[SF] Grandmother Eris. A Disco Fable.

Eris doesn't need worshippers like that limp rag of a Christ. His handwringing supplicants are a plague upon the World already. She asks for no bent knees, no pious penitents, offers no absolution, nor bids her faithful to be washed in the sacrificial gore of some scapegoat's stolen life.

​

She don't roll like Jeehobah, she doesn't need validation from a flock of frightened, sinful sheep, mumbling empty prayers under the judging eyes and false shepherding of a Priesthood of bastards, mountebanks and charlatans. If she bestows upon you, your hearts desire, it is not as some reward for unswerving faith, or dutiful worship.

Nay, it is with the casual indifference of a good natured feaster, casually tossing the remains of the meal to her Hounds. Her gifts are not something that one should strive towards, for she is nothing if not fickle and capricious towards mortals. Would Paris have been so blind in his pursuit of Helen, had he known the terrible price that would be demanded of him?

To incur the displeasure of Hera, and the abandonment of Athena, just so he could play "Hide the sausage" with a Spartan Queen, stolen from under the nose of her Atreides Husband? Had he known every King of Greece was to wage war upon his beautiful Troy, would he have run back to Ilium, abandoning his heart's desire forever, and risk the displeasure of Hermes? (Who would have to find some other chump to judge between Olympus's three biggest narcissists) Maybe, but if not Paris, the task would fall to someone else, for some stories are too powerful not to be told.

It wasn't even the first time sluttish Helen had been "stolen away" for her beauty. Oh no. But the first time, by a Hero so 'pure' he would not bespoil her virgin loins with his mighty seed. *Winks*

No, it was a good, stiff cock that girl yearned for, not the weak, dribbled seed of old man Meneleaus. Her womb demanded she till it's fecundity with the hard stiff, fucking of a young, strong Prince like pretty Paris. And Lady Eris? They fucking SNUBBED Her! Fuck those preening Olympians and their pet Kings and Heroes!

Peleus and Thetis should have as their wedding gift, to see their Olympian Gods and Goddesses for the self obsessed, spoiled bitches and thundering spineless bastards they really were. The vanity of Woman, exemplified beyond mortal comprehension, by the greedy squabbling of deific entitlement.

"For The most Beautiful" She tossed her Hesperidic Apple into the sight of the three most vain, self obsessed, spoiled bratty bitches ever cut from the flesh of a demented child devouring Titan. So greedy, they couldn't even let Thetis, though sired by Zeus himself (but don't mention that in earshot of Hera) their own half Sister, be "The most beautiful", even at her own fucking wedding feast!

Even in her glorious wrath, Eris (who loved a good game above all else) left an option for redemption. All they had to do was allow Thetis to claim the Apple as her wedding gift. Behave in a way fitting, not for Olympian Gods, but as Guests in the House of their hosts on the day of their Wedding.

Daddy Zeus, cock of the fucking block, patron of Hospitality and the bestower of a guest's right to be treated with respect, he could have put his mighty foot down, and slapped his squabbling family of bitches into line with a single word. But no. So spineless was he, so reluctant to have to go back to the Mountain with Hera's haughty disdain and icy cold psycopathic plotting of revenge, he abetted their appalling behaviour.

He said he would mediate the issue, then immediately delegated responsibility to Hermes. Who bottled it too, and picked poor Paris, watching his goats on a hillside. Then each pretty Goddess, in order to be bitchiest bitch in the bitch pile, Apple owning Queen of the spoiled sulk, tried bribing the fucking judge. Unbelievable. Monstrous arrogance. Self obsession taken to it's ugly and catastrophic extreme, with not a thought of consequence, or twinge of conscience. Just as Eris had foreseen.

"Consequence, my pretty ,posing, shamefully behaved progeny? Oh, Grandmother Eris is going to teach you ALL about fucking consequences, you primped up over-privileged priapic bunch of superpowered toddlers! Game on, motherfuckers! (Technically, sibling fuckers, but hey, who's going to point THAT out to Zeus and Hera?)

Eris in one fell move, became Dungeon Master of the Olympian D&D Cabal. The mortal play people, that Olympus had for so long been at a loss what to do with, were going to make some fucking demands of their Gods now. They were going to have to work for their Ambrosia. Learn some diplomacy. How to make concessions, how to back the fuck up a bit, and let these Mortals have their head. Learn some fucking boundaries. Rules. Gamesmanship.

Either that, or it was War in Heaven. With canny Hades, down below, with the souls of all the dead at his command. and jealous plotting, bitter, tricked brother, Poisiedon under the waves, played for the chump again. Waiting for his chance to topple Zeus, and take his rightful turn as crowing cock, King of that dunghill Olympus. No thought for the fact the Earth would be once again under his Ocean, nope, not with him up the Mountain, guzzling barrels of Ambrosia all day long. Thus went the dreams of Posiedon.

And poor Paris, his hard on for Helen was pre-destined to shame the mighty Greeks, and grant them eventual victory over Troy, but to pauper themselves in the process. Agamemnon, proudest and most ambitious King of Mycenae, and Meneleaus, his Brother, King of Sparta, but only by dint of his marriage to (soon to be stolen away) Helen of Sparta. Most puissant Queen that mortal man had ever spawned. Original Trophy Bride, the face that launched a thousand (yet to be built) Ships. Wife of an Atreides, King of the Spartans, mightiest Warriors ever to pick up a Spear. And not really a man who would take being cuckolded by a mere Boy Prince of some far off City with good grace.

This Queen, Helen, was the glue holding the loose confederation of Greek City States together with her dowry, her beauty, and her placement at the tip of the triumverate of powers, Sparta, Athens, and Mycenae.

Casually promised to pretty boy Paris, as his reward for Judging in favour of Aphrodite. Her of the bottomless cunt. So the greedy eyed, cock hungry Daddy's girl, gets what she wants. A fucking Apple. With 'Kallisti' wrote upon it's golden skin.

"Cock-a-doodle me, prettiest of the three you two ugly bitches, bow down to me"

Wisdom was not this jiggly titted honey dripping slut's forte. Olympus's in house rutting whore, Hungry cunted Goddess of sluts, skanks, and cum guzzling slags everywhere with a libido that surpassed even Zeus himself. Her proudest party trick was a cock in each hole, one between her pouty lips, and one in each hand, then bringing them all to bone juddering climax simultaneously, to the enthusiastic applause of those living up the Topside. Proto-Bimbo-Barby slut guts. (Still would though, if you know what I mean) "Attagirl" Zeus would say, under his breath.

Because Zeus openly admiring any female that wasn't Hera, just sent Hera off into one of her squawking rages.

Slowly, the events set into motion by these blustering bragging irresponsible Olympians were coming together, mortal man's day was here, these unconsidered playthings, whose whole existence was so carefully guarded by Foresight and his brother, Hindsight , (Prometheus and Epimethius) and bought at such a price by noble Prometheus, now had the teeth that Zeus always feared.

Now do you start to see the depth of Eris's gamesmanship? See how her carefully planned vengeance would teach them ALL to behave a little bit better? Now Zeus would really have to put the family to work! Each Olympian designated a sphere of mortal influence, having now to barter their good graces to this scurrying thing, Man, for goats and prayers and promises of fealty, and should they waver in their diligence, the balance between the triumverate Sons of Cronos, Posieden, Zeus and Hades, would crumble, the Kraken would awake, and the World would be lost.

The Demigods Zeus had so carelessly spawned with any woman shaped thing his dick fancied poking, had founded the dynasties of Man's Kings, and they all looked to Olympus. They could withhold their worship, or turn away, towards other new Gods. They would even be forced to flee to Egypt and disguise themselves with Animal heads while Heracles sorted the Titan "threat" out for them. He freed Prometheus from his chains on the mountainside too, which Zeus can't have been too happy about.

And in this way, with acts of service, Man's Heroes, Heracles, Theseus, Perseus, Bellerophon, Achilles, Atreus, Orpheus, all had Zeus's blood in them, and all founded Dynastic Houses, dedicated to their patron Gods. . . Deific inter-personal politics had to be learned by Olympus. The ages of Man grew, from Archaic, Classical, Hellenistic, as Greece became more and more apart from it's Gods. The mystery cults of the Orphic Mysteries, the Oracular Pythonesses, and their attendant Priesthoods now held sway, and 'spoke' for the Gods these days. Anyway . . .

​

Eris sits back in her rocking chair, playing Donkey Kong on her old Nintendo Gameboy, while Zeus bemoans the eventual fall of Greece to Rome, and having to adopt Romanised forms in order to survive. Eris, although Grandmother of Zeus, and older than the first thought, still as quietly powerful as ever (since her Game had never depended upon people's belief) rocks slowly, her hand rolled cigarette hanging from her smiling lips, says to Zeus, most mighty of the Olympians,

"Sack up, Boy, you had your day in the fucking sun didn't you? You did deeds, great and small, noble, and base, and your name is still written in the dusty books of Epimetheus's little side project, Man, right?"

Zeus nods glumly.

"They still sacrifice to you, The Thunderer, don't they? Your bolts of lightning still get to feed you, Zeus, now and again?"

"But they strap the sacrifices into a chair of wood, Grandmother. HUMAN sacrifices! (Zeus always preferred Goats.) They begin to show the disease of Cronos, in the way they feed upon one another, their young, their Wars, all so senseless" He sighed.

"And where did they get that trait from then, eh? You! You sticking your priapic pecker into their women! You passed Cronos down to them,.. . They are just doing with the gene what they have to, NEED to!"

​

"And Zeus" said Eris . . . Zeus looked up, his mighty brow, furrowed and anxious. "Since when did you, an Olympian and a God, the Mighty Thunderer, Zeus, first of the mighty age of Gods, since when did YOU start to even give a fuck?" she said, her eyes a twinkle . . .

"Since you fucking MADE us all give a fuck, Grandmother. . . you scheming old Bitch . . .I CARE now, I feel things like . . like I suppose mortals do" Eris nodded, sagely. Waiting for her notoriously slow witted thuggish Grandson to follow his thoughts . . .

"Are we to die like mortals too? Is that what we have come to? An Ignomious death, falling in the dirt, leaving our bones to bleach under the Sun of the next fucking Sun Hero the monkeys nail up?"

"What am I, some kind of fucking agony Aunt for your morose self pity party? Get up off your flabby arse, you moody emo twat, I didn't raise me no whiny lil bastards! Well . . . I did, but you're all grown up now . . . Grown. You're a badass thunderbolt wielding son of fucking Chaos, get up and act like it. . .

You don't like your sacrifices all Human and fried? TELL them! MAKE them fucking listen. You're a GOD, for God's sake! You're still Boss of that piss poor Crew, sat up the Mountain, glugging ambrosia like it was cheap gin, shake them up some, get a rocket under their arses too, go and do some fucking Godding! I mean it, now get up, and fuck off! I'm sick of the sight of your droopy mawkish face!"

Zeus, stung by the rebukes, and as always, more than a little afraid of this flapping old crone (funny, she was beautiful, young, and vibrant not five minutes ago) gets up, and slouches towards the door. "Forgetting something?" She says. "I don't think so" says Zeus,still sulky.

"COME HERE . . . and give your old Nan a fucking KISS, you disrespectful little bastard!" She screeches at him, all crackly fire and sour piss now, incandescent with sudden rage.

Afraid, but (Quite rightly) more afraid of the consequences of disobeying her, Zeus the Mighty turns, and chastely kisses her on her wrinkly cheek . . . " That's better" she says, mollified. "You soppy cunt" she says, affectionately" . . ."I love you too Nan" he says, as hopeless as any seven year old boy around his cranky old Grandmother.

"You know what, I'm proud of you Zeus, and I love you best. Out of all my ill-considered brats, and their own, over-entitled whelps, you are the one I was always so hard on (I said "hard on" she giggled) You know why?"

"No" he said . . .

"Because YOU were always the slowest, most dim- witted of your siblings, the stupid , dumb one, the one everyone else took the piss out of. Even though you could take either of those nasty little brothers of yours on, and pull their fucking arms and legs off, if you wanted to. "Zeus the Goose, thick as a Moose" they'd say, behind your back."

"But you never did. You showed restraint, and ignored them. . . . Well, until it all came to a head at least. Hades was a nasty, cruel little swine, with no sense of fun in him, but when he teamed up with that sneaky, duplicitous cunt Posiedon, and tried to topple you once and for all, well, I wasn't having that"

"You think you outwitted Posiedon with that 'three way power sharing' bollocks all by yourself?" She said.

"I had to get in there first and dose him up with Cough syrup and Ativan so that YOU'D not be the one swimming around with the fucking fishes! Or stuck down there in Hades forever, looking after the dead. Pffft"

"Now get the fuck out of here, and don't come back until you've done whatever the fuck it is you're going to do . . . Oh, and when you do come back" . . . . She paused, all sweet old Lady now, . . . "Bring us back a bottle of Bristol Cream from Tescos' love, can you?" "Yes Nan" says Zeus, "And thanks Nan, you da best. . . ." and walks out the door.

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