#indeterminate sentence

[thoughtlessarse]

In 2006, Martin Myers got in a scrape over a cigarette. He asked a young man if he had a spare fag. The man declined to give him one. Myers came from a well-known Traveller family. The man, Myers says, made a derogatory comment about Travellers, so Myers gave up the niceties. He threatened to punch him if he didn’t hand him a cigarette. The young man ran away. He then went to the police in Luton and told them what had happened. The police were familiar with Myers. He had previous convictions for dangerous driving, assault, theft and burglary. Myers was arrested, charged and convicted of attempted street robbery. On 8 March 2006, he was given a tariff – the minimum time he could serve – of 19 months and 27 days. Myers, 42, has now served 18 years in jail for the attempted robbery of that cigarette. He was given an indeterminate sentence, known as imprisonment for public protection (IPP). This meant that while he could be released after 19 months and 27 days, he could also be jailed for up to 99 years. IPP was first used as a sentence in England and Wales in 2005, having been introduced by Labour in 2003 to detain in prison people who posed a significant risk of causing harm to the public. It was a controversial sentence. Critics said that jailing people for what they could do, rather than what they had done, contradicted the basic principle of justice: that people are innocent until proven guilty. In September 2012, the European court of human rights ruled that detaining individuals serving IPPs beyond their tariff indefinitely “was arbitrary and therefore unlawful” if reasonable access to rehabilitation was not provided. On 3 December 2012, IPP was abolished. But while the sentence could no longer be handed out by judges, it wasn’t abolished for those already serving it. Last week, David Blunkett, who introduced the sentence as home secretary, told me: “What has happened with this sentence is the biggest regret I have in terms of the outcome of all the many things that I was involved in the eight years I was in government.” Today, more than 11 years after IPPs were banned and 16 years after his tariff ended, Myers is one of almost 3,000 people imprisoned in England and Wales still serving an indeterminate sentence – with no release date in sight.

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Labour saw Clinton did much the same thing in the US and said, “We're having that.” And like Clinton they now regret the introduction of such measures.

I've no doubt discrimination against travellers played a large part in the whole affair, from the man threatened right up to the judge who passed sentence.

[landfilloftrash]

shoutout to my girl eno’s nightmare bc. Hi! What and/or Who the fuck was that ! its gonna haunt her and i for awhile !

[discipleofthemis]

SALVADOR S. ABUNADO and ZENAIDA BIÑAS ABUNADO, Petitioners, vs. PEOPLE OF THE PHILIPPINES, Respondent

G.R. No. 159218             March 30, 2004

Civil law; Family Code; Bigamy

ISSUE: Has the petitioner been adequately informed about the nature and grounds of the accusation against him, specifically regarding his alleged contracting of a subsequent marriage while his first marriage was still valid? answers are rulings of the Supreme Court) after the facts)

FACTS: On September 18, 1967, Salvador married Narcisa Arceño in Manila. In 1988, Narcisa went to Japan to work but returned in 1992 after discovering Salvador's affair and his departure from their home. She later found Salvador cohabiting with Fe Corazon Plato in Quezon City and learned that he had contracted a second marriage with Zenaida Biñas on January 10, 1989.

Salvador admitted to marrying Zenaida in 1955 and having four children with her before their separation in 1966. However, there was no evidence of their 1955 marriage, so they remarried in 1989 to meet military commission requirements for their son.

On January 19, 1995, Salvador filed for annulment against Narcisa, and on May 18, 1995, Narcisa filed a bigamy case against Salvador and Zenaida. On May 18, 2001, Salvador was convicted of bigamy and sentenced to imprisonment. Zenaida, on the other hand, was acquitted due to insufficient evidence. The Court of Appeals affirmed the trial court's decision with a modification in the penalty. Considering Salvador's age of 76 and applying the Indeterminate Sentence Law, he was sentenced to an indeterminate prison term ranging from two years, four months, and one day to six years and one day.

The petitioner is presenting a petition for review, claiming that the Information in his case was flawed. He argues that the Information incorrectly stated the year the bigamous marriage was contracted, stating 1995 instead of the actual year, 1989.

According to the petitioner, being properly informed of the nature and cause of the accusation against him is his right. The content of the Information should include all the acts and omissions that constitute the offense, as this determines the true nature of the crime charged. The title or designation of the offense in the Information's caption is not as important as the facts alleged within it. The Information should include all the necessary facts and circumstances in accordance with the definition and essential elements of the specific crimes involved.

ANSWER (SUPREME COURT RULING): YES!

The petitioner argues three main points in his case. Firstly, he claims that there was a typographical error in the Information, which stated the wrong year for the bigamous marriage. However, the court finds this argument untenable, as the correct year was clearly indicated elsewhere in the document and the error was obvious.

Secondly, the petitioner asserts that the consent of his first wife absolves him of criminal liability. However, the court agrees with the lower court's ruling that there was no clear and convincing evidence to support the claim of condonation. Furthermore, the pardon by the offended party does not extinguish the criminal action, as bigamy is considered a public offense.

Thirdly, the petitioner argues that his petition for the annulment/declaration of nullity of his marriage should have suspended the proceedings in the bigamy case. However, the court states that a prejudicial question can only suspend a criminal case if it involves facts that determine the guilt or innocence of the accused. In this case, the subsequent declaration of nullity of the first marriage was irrelevant, as the crime of bigamy had already been committed before that declaration.

Lastly, the petitioner claims that the imposed penalty was improper. The court explains that for the offense of bigamy, the penalty of prision mayor is prescribed. Under the Indeterminate Sentence Law, the court has the discretion to determine the minimum penalty within the range of the penalty next lower, while the maximum penalty is based on the prescribed penalty for the offense.

Considering that the petitioner is over 70 years old, which is a mitigating circumstance, the court affirms that the penalty imposed by the Court of Appeals is proper.

In conclusion, the Court of Appeals' decision finding the petitioner guilty of bigamy and imposing an indeterminate penalty of two (2) years, four (4) months and one (1) day of prision correccional as a minimum, to six (6) years and one (1) day of prision mayor as a maximum, is affirmed.

[forlix]

"better, now."

words・749 / pairing・hyunjin x gn!stylist!reader / includes・fluff, established relationship, alcohol consumption / note・an extremely self-indulgent kinda emo take on hyunjin @ vfw. takes place in the crying lightning universe.

Hyunjin is gone.

He stopped walking and started floating about five drinks ago, bode farewell to coherent sentences and his eyesight not too long after. Simply kept plucking flutes of champagne off trays carried around by kindred waiters and let himself bask in the glorious evening.

When his stylist shows up in front of him, he mistakes them for the moon.

Gentle hands push strands of sweaty hair out of his eyes, then move to cup his cheeks fondly, protectively, as if imprinting final touches into a snow angel. He watches your lips form his name from mere centimeters away, but the sound of it seems to travel underwater.

“Hyunjin,” you repeat, more audibly this time, a lick of crisp night air cutting through the afterparty’s steamy throng.

He proceeds to melt into you in ways he cannot currently control, sliding a hand over the one you have on the side of his face, fingertips dipping in the slots between yours. Bringing you close enough to him that your chest moulds right against his. Grinning at you with a sickening sweetness that he can taste on his own mouth.

“Hi,” he replies.

“You okay? How are you?” You inquire. “Do you need anything?”

“Hi,” he says again, because he can’t really think of anything else, and that seems to be answer enough.

Before he knows it, he’s walking somewhere, guided only by the arm that he has slung over your shoulders and your silhouette, just barely discernible in the dim venue, which he would follow to the ends of the earth.

An indeterminate amount of time later, he’s standing in the doorway of an unoccupied lounge. The tables of polished mahogany and gold foil have become graveyards of empty wine glasses, but the couch in the middle of the room has been left pristine.

Only after he sits down does the lightheadedness hit, and it hits hard, hard enough to shut his eyes and furrow his brow. His brain swings around the inside of his skull like a pendulum.

There is a delicate brush of your finger against his chin, your quiet request for him to lift it up, and then something hard and cold comes to rest on his lower lip. Water surrounds his tonsils and slips down his throat. A few stray rivulets escape down the side of his neck, then disappear into the napkin that you have pressed upon the skin.

By the time he’s downed the whole glass, he can feel his wits beginning to return—with them, the rest of his senses. His eyes crack open again.

“Hot,” he whispers. “It’s hot.”

You move your hands to his shoulders. Moments later, his jacket is a leather mass over the back of the couch, and he feels his dizziness subside, his oxygen return. 

“Better?”

With the music so far away, he hears the concern in your tone with crystalline clarity. He leans over to press his lips to the underside of your jaw, conveying a silent message: better, now.

He didn’t have plans to spend the night backstage, but the premise seems riveting where he comes to lie. His head nestled in the plush of your lap, the rest of him stretched across the sofa, your hand carding through his hair with the soporific lull of a mellow tide.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles suddenly, and you look down at him, confused.

“For?”

“Getting so drunk.”

If your hand is the tide, your laugh is the sand, warm and ubiquitous and all-consuming. “You had a good time, yeah?”

A good time. What an understatement for the maelstrom of feeling still raging on within him, the happiness and disbelief and pride and gratitude to himself, to you. To us.

“The best,” he answers.

“That’s all that matters, then,” you hum, your thumb dusting over his hairline. “You deserve to celebrate.”

He’s still too drunk to really think, but he doesn’t have to think when it comes to you—just knows in the very wellsprings of his soul all the love you’ve woven into the thing you’re about to say, by the infinitesimal softening of your eyes alone.

“You deserve everything, baby.”

He lifts your wrist to his lips, presses a kiss to your pulse. Above him, your features blur, then come back into focus. His answer is so soft that he almost can’t hear it over the warble of his heartbeat and the descent of his tears.

“I’ve got it right here.”

🔖 (send an ask to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe・@seungminsapuppy・@vivisoni・@moon0fthenight・@sweetpickledjins・@svintsandghosts・@nhyunn ・@ur-boyfiend・@liknws・@hotgorloikawa・@randomwimp・@automaticpersonabatpaper・@aceofvernons・@linos-kitten・@newhope8・@weedforthoughtz

© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · liked this work? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡

[tozettastone]

Maddie & Hidan fic, NOT the one I was meant to be working on. Takes place about five years after they first meet in Deadbeat.

I do not have any idea if this is "canon" to Maddie's story! I just thought it was fun to write when I couldn't sleep yesterday.

Notes: Hidan POV, contains dismemberment. Maybe I'll stick it on AO3 later?

----

Hidan had no idea how long he'd been stuck here.

He was buried alone in the dark, in pieces.

It was cold underground. The chucks of rock beneath which he was buried were heavy and the dirt that trickled between them was so close he had to spit it out.

His wounds hurt at first, which was a good thing, because Hidan was very practiced at focusing on pain to the exclusion of all else. His devotions demanded it. So at first he was in insistent, nagging agony, and he prayed about it. When his voice wore out he prayed in his head. And then when it recovered again, he prayed aloud some more.

At first he could count time by his prayers, too. But then soon he began to second guess them: had he really counted ten cycles of prayer, or only nine, or five, or three hundred?

It was so cold. The earth sapped the heat from his broken limbs.

How long could it possibly take Kakuzu to finish his fight and come dig him up?

Time dilated into eternity.

And then the places where Hidan's body was dismembered began to go numb. There was no more pain, just a wretched, drowning exhaustion that dragged him under like a riptide.

He slept. He woke up cold. He prayed. He slept again.

He slept a lot.

When he woke, a little more of him was numb each time. The nerves were dead. Without fuel to burn in its holy fire, even Hidan's immortal body was flagging.

When he couldn't feel his body at all and he thought he was actually going mad, something moved overhead.

His eyes rolled up in his decapitated head, as though he could see through the rocks and tiny air pockets and loose sandy dirt to discover what was going on up there.

It might just be a deer. He was rubbish at sensing chakra signatures. For the past six years, that had been Kakuzu's job.

It wasn't a deer, though: the movements remained, muddling around above, and then they became dogged and determined. Eventually light began to leak on through the rocks.

Freedom arrived with the methodical sound of a shovel, stabbing away at the dirt until it hit rock.

Scrabbling hands heaved the rocks out, one by one. Light poured down upon him at last, and he squeezed his eyes shut tightly against the blistering radiance of the sun.

It was like a physical thing on his skin, dazzling down through the forest leaves, even though he'd thought there was no more feeling left.

"Fuck, Kakuzu, it took you long enough," Hidan croaked.

"Sorry," said a voice that was definitely not Kakuzu's. It was breathless and trembling and hard to place. A girl? "I couldn't sense — I didn't realise — lord, I thought there was more t— never mind that." The voice finished mine of these sentences. "Oh my god, you're in so many pieces. Christ, is that what gangrene looks like? Hidan, oh my god, what do I do?"

He squinted. "Maddie?"

"That's me."

"Maddie?"

"Yeah. Last rock, hangon." She pulled off a chunk of stone with some effort. Hidan didn't feel the change in pressure.

It wasn't like she was the last person he could imagine offering him help. But she did live across the other side of the country. And Fire Country was big.

"Where's Kakuzu?"

"I don't know," she said, high and aggrieved. "I have to find him next."

"Okay, okay, shit, don't start crying. We'll find him."

"I'm not crying," she hissed, sounding an awful lot like someone who was crying. "What do I do? Fuck, the deer are, like — I don't know what they're doing but I don't like their chakra."

Oh, the deer. Yeah.

"Just get me out of here."

"Like... in a... bag?"

"Yeah?"

"Fuck. Um. Okay," said Maddie, and then she disappeared for an indeterminate amount of time, during which Hidan may or may not have lost consciousness, and came back with a sack.

She just started loading pieces of him in. Her face was crinkled around the eyes and tense in the jaw. The older she got, the less baby fat cushioned her face and the more she looked like Kakuzu.

"This is foul. Hidan, what if I miss a piece?"

Given the number of pieces he'd been buried in, she was virtually guaranteed to miss something. "It'll grow back. Just pick up the main bits and go."

Maddie took him at his word and commenced cramming dirty, dismembered, diseased body parts into her sack.

Hidan's head went into the sack last. One of his blackened fingers nearly took his eye out on the way. "Ouch. Dammit, be careful. That hurts!"

She adjusted his head. Her fingers were so warm on his scalp they nearly burned.

The sense of her chakra, which he'd barely noticed in his present state, dissolved into practically nothing. The forest was saturated with various signatures already, and she was very good at hiding.

He felt Maddie begin to jog, although he couldn't hear her footsteps. She was incompetent in combat, still, and chickenshit to boot, so if they got caught it would definitely be back into the pit for him — with company, probably — but she was cat-footed and quick and very, very sneaky.

The daylight came through the sack in pinpricks, leaking between the warp and weft of the rough fabric. When they left the forest, the glow of the sun intensified. Maddie's chakra gave the tiniest little flicker and then her gait changed to an all-out dash. Her feet thumped the ground and the sack jostled alongside her, rocking against her moving body with each stride.

He would have liked to have said something, but he was woozy and quiet, just a cold jumble of filthy parts thumping along in her bag.

Maddie was warm through the sack.

Hidan felt better. He would not have said he felt good, exactly; he still felt fucking terrible. But the spiralling madness of his long burial had dissipated, dispelled by that first ray of sunlight.

The murky exhaustion remained, and he soon went under again.

"I think we're in the clear," said Maddie, some time later.

It was cold again, and dark enough outside that no light made itself known in the sack. The coldness seemed to leech all the warmth he'd finally got back straight out of him.

"At least, I sure hope we're in the clear," she mumbled.

"Where are we?" Hidan wondered.

"Um, not far from the coast. I bought a farm. Two farms. On Wave? Gato really ended up devastating the local economy for a while there. It was cheap. I only rented one of them out so far."

"Right," said Hidan. She'd wanted to do that, hadn't she? For some reason?

"I haven't been to this one. I don't know if it's even arable. But hey, land is land, right?" she rambled nervously. "We're nearly at the — haha, at the Great Naruto Bridge." This name seemed particularly funny to her, so she laughed for a second, breathlessly, like a broken hinge. Then she said: "I don't want them to search my bags, and technically the bridge gate is shut anyway, so we're just going to water walk underneath, okay?"

"Sure," said Hidan easily. He didn't have a say, anyway.

"Right," mumbled Maddie.

The ocean stank. Maddie's chakra disappeared again as she tiptoed onto the water.

Hidan fell asleep once more.

The next time he woke, it was because something was stabbing him.

"Ow," he hissed.

The sack was gone. He was on the floor of a bathroom, which was floored in red tiles that crawled halfway up the walls where they turned into whitewashed wood. A chipped, claw-footed tub rose high above his head where it rested on the floor behind him.

Maddie was hunched over him, her long ragged hair trailing onto his jaw. She cringed as she drew a dark thread of her own weird chakra through his neck.

Above them both, a bare electric bulb hummed. Moths gathered around it, flickering shadows against the the yellow light.

"Sorry," Maddie whispered. She finished her line of stitches. From a glance, she'd haphazardly stitched most of his torso together already.

"What're you doing?"

"Rinsing your pieces off in the tub and sewing you back together, I guess. I don't know. What else?"

What else indeed? "Forget the rest for now. I need food."

She let the thread of her chakra fall. "Okay," she said. "What kind?"

Anyone else would have pointed out that he didn't have enough organs to digest anything. But every time Hidan met Maddie, she just got... kind of weirder. She was grim, she was romantic, she was suspicious. She was ambitious. She was pragmatic. She was strangely sentimental.

How had such a strange girl grown up like her? Nobody had raised her this way. She must be like a reed, needing nothing but the black waters of her fetid swamp.

In this case, he was glad for her weirdness.

"Meat." Something that was someone. An individual with conspecifics. He'd eat a human, if he could. "Something that suffered."

She hesitated. "Fish?"

Close enough. "Fine, fish."

What she had was some kind of white fish, the kind fishermen caught all up and down the coast. She washed her hands and fed him flakes of pale flesh from her fingertips, catching them on his chapped lips occasionally. She also brought him water, which she alloted him in cruel sips only, waiting long minutes between.

He was full in about six bites, which he knew to be absurd because he couldn't even feel his stomach, let alone the sensation of fullness.

"I'm going back to sleep," he slurred, then. "Keep sewing."

"Okay," she said again.

"'M cold," he whined, half-conscious. It was night still and he was naked in pieces on the chilly tiles. And it had been cold underground.

"Sorry."

"Ugh," he managed, and then he was out like a light again.

He woke up twice more, numb but steadily more complete. Maddie hand-fed him each time in little flaky white chunks. He was numb and cold each time, and his body might have been sewn back together, but it answered none of his commands. It wasn't even shitting right.

Hidan had only just began to contemplate a life where this was the new normal, where he didn't heal properly and he just laid there numb and cold and waiting on Maddie to fucking hand feed him like a recalcitrant kitten, when this situation changed.

He woke up at noon on the fifth day, in a truly staggering amount of pain. He cursed loudly. Then he discovered he could move his fingers. Just a twitch.

Thank fuck.

Jashin was not a god of mercies, but he was a god of pain. So Hidan embraced the stabbing agony in each of his limbs and gave thanks.

---

On day seven, Maddie announced herself by dumping his naked, unresisting body into the bath tub. The water was warm, and after so long being so cold — in the darkness of the pit, and then on the tiles for days — it felt searing.

"Fuck!" he yelped, jerking his limbs in uncoordinated distress, because the first wash of heat felt like lava. "Maddie!"

"You complain about the cold in your sleep," she said, but she stuck her hand in the water, frowning, like she was really afraid she could boil him alive by accident. "It's not that hot."

She went back to what she was doing, which seemed to be sweeping up all the detritus of their emergency repairs from the tiles and into a dustpan to prepare for mopping.

Hidan begged to differ, and he opened his mouth to do just that, but then the sensation of warmth finally registered. He shivered from head to toe and made a pornographic moan of relief. "Oh, fuck."

Maddie looked at him as though he was doing this specifically to try her patience. She had completely inherited Kakuzu's unimpressed face. He wondered if she knew.

"Wait, where's Kakuzu?"

She paused in her sweeping for just a moment. "Dead." The rhythmic sound of the brush continued.

"Dead? No shit?"

"So is Sasori, and Deidara, and Kisame, and Itachi by now I guess —"

"Yeah, I don't care about that. What the hell happened to Kakuzu?"

"I'm not ...completely sure. I think they got all his hearts, basically."

...Hidan did have a distant memory of stabbing himself and realising that he had not performed his ritual on the Leaf chuunin he'd been aiming for. Huh.

"I went back and got his body," she added uncertainly. "I guess it would be a bad idea to leave it lying around but..."

"Have you tried just cramming a new heart into it?" Hidan wondered.

"... Do you think that would work?"

"I dunno. No? Maybe?" It felt so good to be warm, even though his whole body was prickling viciously in the heat. His fingers flexed almost like normal. "There's no proof it wouldn't work?"

Maddie put her dustpan and brush down in favour of staring at him, thoughtfully patting her own belly. "I hadn't thought of it. I'll... try? I'll just... cram a heart into his body. Sure. Why not." She paused. "Do you want to come out of the bath first?"

Hidan yawned. "No. I'm going to live here."

"Okay. Try not to drown."

"Ha," he said, deadpan. "You're hilarious."

[thescarletnargacuga]

Art: @iamespecter

CHAPTER ONE

The Amazing Digital Raceway is a Mario Kart-style racing AU filled with mystery, drama and romance! Featured ships being Showtime (Pomni x Caine) and Gangle x Zooble! (Other ships are possible but indeterminate)

WARNING: none

"Welcome, to the Amazing Digital Raceway!" A crowd of thousands were on their feet clapping and cheering in the stands around the starting line. Five racers stood next to their karts as the booming voice from above announced his welcome. "My name is Caine! I'm your trackside host and it's a beautiful day for a race! Isn't that right, Bubble?"

Caine removed his hat with a flourish and a bubble with a shark's smile emerged. "That's right, Caine! I can't wait to see what kind of race you have set up for today!"

"Then let's not waste any time and get right to announcing today's racers!" Holding his cane like a microphone, Caine flew over the crowd to the track. "Up front, is Gangle! Our winner of yesterday's race! Let's hope she can hold that title!" Gangle waved shyly to the adoring crowd, her happy mask giving the crowd her best 'happy to be there' smile.

"Next, Zooble! Master utilizer of shortcuts! I haven't been able to hide one from them to date!" Caine laughed as he flew past Zooble, who just leaned nonchalantly against their kart while waiting for Caine to finish his spiel.

"Then there's Kinger! A veteran racer who knows his way around every corner, tunnel and cliff! It's hard to trick this guy!" Kinger was face down in his kart looking at the mechanics before being startled by Caine's presence and slamming the hood shut. He spun around as if he suddenly realized where he was.

"Next is the darling doll crowd favorite, Ragatha!" Caine tipped his hat to her and he floated by. She enthusiastically waved to the crowd. "She's struggled this season, but let's hope the track is on her side this time!"

"Not if I have anything to do with it." Chuckled the last racer. Ragatha kept waving but glared at him.

"And we have Jax, another crowd favorite, whose drifting skills go unmatched! Despite the fact that he hasn't won a race all season." Caine said the last sentence under his breath. Jax chuckled and sat sideways in his kart's seat, amused by Caine's huffiness about his lack of proper participation.

"And last, but not least, we have Kaufmo! ....Kaufmo?"

Kaufmo was not next to his bright yellow clown themed kart. In fact, he was nowhere to be seen, but the crowd cheered on as if he were there. Caine covered the top of his cane-mircophone and leaned in to Bubble. "Where's Kaufmo?"

"I dunno, boss. Want me to look for him?"

"Yes, and be quick about it. The race is starting! We need our full roster!" Caine nearly hissed between his teeth in desperation. Bubble drifted away.

The other racers all looked to the lone kart at the end of the line. Ragatha frowned and looked at Kinger and Zooble, silently asking them if they'd seen Kaufmo. Both shrugged and shook their heads. None of them had seen Kaufmo that morning, which was strange. Usually he was the first one out of bed and trying to amp everyone up for the race, trying his best to make their lives there bearable.

"BOSS! I FOUND A CLOWN!" Bubble's shout got all of their attention.

"Wha- what? Who are you- where am I??" A short humanoid woman in a blue, red and yellow tracksuit and jester hat suddenly stood not far from where Kaufmo would've been.

"EXCELLENT!" Caine exclaimed. He swooped down to her and got a good look. "Hmm, you're not Kaufmo, but you'll do. We need a sixth racer."

"A what? What is this??" The newcomer looked around in panic. She was surrounded in saturated colors and lights and sounds, it was overwhelming. She manically stared down the line of racers in front of her, their expressions ranged from apathy to pity. They knew what she was going through, however, she was the first to show up right at the start of a race. "Who are you people!?"

Ragatha approached with her hands out reassuringly. "Easy, new stuff. It'll be al-"

"Get this headset off of me!" The newbie tried taking off her hat but it may as well have been her hair, it wouldn't budge.

Ragatha winced as she watched the new girl pull at every part of her own face. "Please, don't do that. You'll hurt yourself."

"Nah, let her tear herself apart. It'll be funny." Jax watched from his lounged position in his cart.

"What the [&@#$] is going on!? ..huh?" A loud BOING sound drowned out the newbie's swear.

"Now, now, my dear. We can't have any of that foul language on the track. The Amazing Digital Raceway is to be enjoyed by all ages, no matter how much road rage you experience." Caine chuckled to himself.

The newbie then proceeded to go through every swear she knew. Even ones she didn't personally think could be swears. Weird sound effects covering up each and every one of them. "...oh my god." She whispered to herself in disbelief.

Caine tugged at his collar awkwardly and addressed the crowd. "It seems we have a NEW racer, folks! Everybody put your hands together to welcome-..." He looked at her expectantly.

"Uh...uh- UHHH! MY NAME! WHY DON'T I REMEMBER MY NAME?!?" She grabbed her head in even more panic.

Caine patted her on the back. "It's alright, nobody can remember their name when they enter the Digital Raceway. Your name can be whatever you want! Care to spin the roulette?" Caine didn't get a reply so he snapped his fingers and gestured to the giant screen over the crowd. He'd been eager to try this out anyway, he'd been working hard at improving the name randomizer since last time took nearly fifty tries just to get a legible, human-approved name.

Letters spun like a slot machine, stopping one after the other. P-O-M-N-I, that doesn't seem too bad. Caine looked at the shaken and confused newbie. "What do you think of Pomni?"

"What? Uh, yeah, sure, whatever..." Pomni held herself in an attempt to ground her mind. This couldn't actually be happening. It was a dream. Had to be. It was too weird not to be.

Strange beeping and whirring sounds came from a device on Caine's wrist. "Gadzooks! We're running behind! We need to get this race underway! Racers! To your karts!" Everyone except Pomni got in their karts. Caine snapped his fingers and Kaufmo's banana yellow clown kart turned into a sleek, red and white kart with a top hat symbol on the front. "Since it's your first race, you can use my kart. Now, get in! The race is about to begin!"

Pomni reluctantly got behind the wheel. "But I don't know how to- I don't know what I'm doing!"

"Not to worry! I'll pilot you through your first lap! You'll get it in no time at all!" Caine flew high up and away as she shouted more questions that he didn't have time to answer. It was time to race. "Ladies and Gentlemen, NPCs of all ages! Today's race is through the Lair of the Gloink Queen!" He gestured to the screen and a preview of the upcoming track played. It was dark and rocky, covered in glowing underground crystals. The track curved and weaved through the caverns, silvery translucent boxes with question marks dotted the landscape. The crowd 'ooed' and 'awwed'. "Today's objective is to defeat the Queen by making the high jump over her nest and hitting the mid air target. But watch out! Her minions lurk in every corner! If they hit your kart, they'll steal your items! Remember, the only thing more important than coming in first is completing the objective! Racers, you have three laps to achieve your goal! Now! START! YOUR! ENGINES!!"

Caine's kart roared to life without Pomni touching anything. The others revved theirs in response. Bubble hovered over the front of the line with a traffic light hanging from their mouth. Pomni's heart hammered as the final countdown began.

The first light lit yellow.

The second light lit yellow.

The third light lit yellow.

Then all three light turned green.

The screeching of tires drowned out Pomni's screams as all six karts took off. After the first turn from the starting line, the track dove down underground, plunging them into darkness.

"Pomni, my dear, good to hear you're already having a good time! Haha! Now, If you can spare your screams of excitement for a moment, I'll tell you how things work around here." Caine's voice came over the kart's radio. She wasn't sure how she could hear him over the engine and the rushing of wind, but that didn't matter at the moment. She had a death grip on the steering wheel that moved on its own as it drifted through the sharp curves effortlessly. "On the track, you'll see some floating surprise boxes. Go ahead and drive through one." The kart maneuvered itself to a box and Pomni shut her eyes out of reflex. The box exploded into confetti and a small indicator light lit up on the dash. "Congratulations! You successfully collected an item! The items from the boxes are completely random! Even I don't know what you'll get each time you hit one! Anyway, these items can range from boosters to weapons to traps that can assist you in the race if used strategically. Click the flashing button to see what you got!"

Pomni opened her eyes and could barely get her hand to let go of the wheel. She hit the light and a party popper appeared in her hand.

"Lucky you! You got a popper! Those can be dropped on the track as explosive surprises for those behind you! Unfortunately, it's not too much use being in dead last. Let's change that! There's a speed booster up ahead! Flashing orange and red, can't miss it!"

"Woah! Wait, what!? Faster!? But-AAAAAAAA!" The kart accelerated into a flashing lane of red and orange. What already felt like top speed was suddenly mach speed. She quickly caught up with and flew past Zooble, who just watched her go by.

"WOOHOO! There's nothing like the rush of a good boost!" Caine's overly excited voice came through the radio again. "Now that you're in front of someone, drop the popper on the track."

Pomni's shaking hand refused to let go of the popper.

"....any time now..." Caine said, a little worried.

Pomni struggled to get it together.

"Uh... I wouldn't hang on to that popper too long, if I were you. Please, drop it on the track."

Pomni was nearly hyperventilating. This was all too much. So much was happening at once.

"Pomni! Drop the popper before it-" BANG!

The popper exploded, causing the kart to spin out of control. She hit the side wall and the kart came to a dead stop. Amazingly, she and the kart were unharmed. She felt dizzy and saw literal stars spinning over her head.

"Pomni! Are you alright? I didn't think you would hold on to it that long or I would have told you sooner that some items work against you if you don't use them quick enough! And don't worry about the crash, it happens to the best of us. No need to be embarrassed. Let's get you rolling again!"

"No! Please, wait-!"

The kart quickly gained speed and rejoined the race just in time for Zooble to catch up. Zooble looked at Pomni, sighed and shook their head. This was no way to introduce a new comer. Only Caine would be so focused on the race that he wouldn't realize just how scared Pomni was. She seemed so panicked she may abstract same day. Now that would be sad.

"Hey! New-blood!" Zooble called out, their kart even with Pomni's.

Pomni looked over. Tears welled in her eyes.

"Nothing out here can actually hurt you. Just finish the race. You'll be fine."

"Help me! Please!" Pomni begged.

"I am. Just relax. Don't worry about winning or the stupid objective." Zooble's monotone delivery was actually convincing in the moment. Like all of this really wasn't something to worry about. Pomni slowed her breathing a little and wiped her face. She gave Zooble a thank you nod which they returned.

"STUPID!?" Caine's shouting over the radio almost gave Pomni a heart attack. "This may not be my best work but it was work nonetheless, Zooble! Don't you have any respect for the creative process!?"

"Not yours." Zooble retorted.

"Well, I never! Come on, Pomni, let's get away from this party pooper." Caine's kart angrily accelerated away, leaving Zooble in the digital dust.

Each curve and swerve of the track took them deeper down until the tunnel opened into a vast cavern. The cavern wall was lined with glowing crystals all the way to the top Where they could see the track winding up the nest around the Queen to the jump over her head where a slowly rotating target hovered.

"There it is! It doesn't look like any of the others have got it yet! You could win your very first race! Go get it!" Caine encouraged enthusiastically. "Ooo! Another box!"

This one gave her a cupcake.

"Go ahead! Eat it! This item will also give you a boost, and don't worry, it doesn't explode."

"Interloper!" The long, slug-like body of the Gloink Queen emerged from the shadows. She raised her tail and spat Gloink minions on the track in front of Pomni. There were too many in the way to avoid, even with Caine's assistance. The kart smacked into no fewer than three Gloinks, one which absconded with Pomni's cupcake. Without it, Pomni just held on for dear life as the kart lunched into the air. Because of the Gloinks, the kart barely had enough momentum to make it to the other side, let alone go high enough to be anywhere near the target. The kart came down on the sloped track on the other side and started winding out of the cavern.

"That dastardly Queen! Don't worry, Pomni! We'll get her on the next lap! I know I said I would just help you with the first, but I must admit, I'm having a little too much fun! It's been awhile since I've been involved in a race myself, and, if I may say so, you're a fantastic addition to the Raceway! You've only crashed once! Many can't get past the first turn their first time!" His laughter echoed out the tunnel as they surfaced to cross the finish line and complete the first lap.

Pomni finally realized she really had no choice in the matter. Panicking and screaming wasn't helping, so she focused her energy on to what was right in front of her. She was gaining on another racer. A tall figure in a purple and white kart. Pomni took a breath, adjusted her grip on the steering wheel and floored the accelerator. The kart lurched forward with power one only thinks a kart can achieve. Gold flames flew out the tail pipes and she passed Kinger like he was standing still.

Kinger gave her a friendly wave as she flew by.

"WOAH, MAMA!! That's more like it!" Caine exclaimed.

Pomni crossed the line with the leaderboard saying she was in fourth place. She rocketed back down into the caves and started making ground on the next racer.

Gangle only saw Pomni after she dropped a bar of soap. "I'm sorry!" She gasped. "Look out!"

Pomni swerved just in time to avoid the soap, only barely missing the wall because of Caine. "What was that!?"

"Other item!" Caine answered. "Get the next box! Let's see if we can return the favor!"

Pomni pressed the glowing button and opened her hand unsure of what would happen. A fountain pen appeared. She looked at it with confusion.

"Perfect!" Exclaimed Caine. "Throw it!"

Without hesitation, having learned her lesson from the popper, Pomni threw the pen and it flew like a javelin at Gangle. The pen swerved around Gangles' head and she only had time to make the smallest squeaks of surprise before the pen inked all over her face.

"My eyes! I can't see!" She moved too far the right and hit the divider in a fork in the track. Her kart crashed and Pomni kept left, going back down to the main chamber of the Gloink Queen.

"Excellent work, Pomni!" Praised Caine. "You're a natural!"

Pomni half smiled, half grimaced. She still wasn't sure what to make of any of this. She was just doing her best to tread water after being thrown into the deep end. An explosion ahead kept Pomni's head in the race. She heard shouting and cackling and a mixture of strange sound effects that we're certainly the censors of a few choice words.

"Be careful. That was a purple seashell." Caine voice sounding strangely serious.

"A what?"

"A purple seashell. It's one of the most powerful items in the game. It flies directly to the person in first place and blows them up, heavily delaying them and often drastically changing the game. There are three different types of seashells; white, orange and purple. Only the purple ones fly. The white ones just sort of frisbee around and hit anything in around them, including you, so use them wisely. And the orange ones target the person immediately in front of you."

Pomni wasn't taking any of this in. Seashells, pens, soap, party poppers, cupcakes?? What??

"LOOK OUT!" Caine's warning got Pomni to swerve away from a Gloink. "Focus, Pomni! We're almost at the jump!"

Ragatha would have tried for the target first but Jax beat her to it thanks to his shell. "You'll have to try harder than that, Rag-head!" He accelerated into the jump and passed just right of the target. He didn't touch it but puts his hand out like he could just to taunt Ragatha.

Ragatha was going too slow and had to bypass the jump entirely. She roared with frustration and slammed her accelerator to try and catch up with him.

"This is your chance! GO GO GO!" Caine was full on cheering for her to win at this point.

Pomni got around the Gloinks much easier this time and accelerated into the jump like a pro. She reached....but she was too short. She flew just under the target and away from the Gloinks.

"You'll have to use a boost to get the target, Pomni! And don't worry, I am making a note right now to lower the target next time I use this track. That won't happen again just because someone's arms are too short. You're still doing great!"

One the way back up, Pomni caught up close with Ragatha who was still fuming. Ragatha went through a box and a red pepper appeared in her hand. Pomni watched her down it in one bite. Her sky blue tracksuit turned red and her hair caught fire. Pomni could swear flames were shooting from Ragatha's eyes as well, but that could have been a hallucination.

"Oh, this outa be good." Caine subtly moved his kart further away from Ragatha.

"Wh-what's happening to her?"

"Chili pepper! Does exactly what you think it'll do."

Not a beat later, Ragatha took a deep breath and sent a stream of red hot flames from her mouth to the kart ahead. The flames hit Jax hard and make him spin out. Pomni and Ragatha pass him and Ragatha's fire fades. She turns her head to look at Pomni and gives a wave and a smile. Pomni nervously waved back. They cross the finish line tying for first. Bubble had a sign that read "3/3 laps."

"This is it, Pomni! It's do or die! The final lap! It all comes down to this!!" Caine's voice increased in pitch with each sentence. He was nearly indistinguishable from a squeaky toy by the end.

Ragatha smiled reassuringly at Pomni. "Don't listen to him. It's not that serious. Just enjoy the ride and go around one more time. Win or lose, we're all having fun."

Pomni gave a small smile back. Then something flew between her and Ragatha. A white shell.

"[§%&#]" Ragatha swore under her breath. She looked back and saw the glare of absolute malice in Jax's eyes. "I'll handle him. See you at the winner's circle!" She brake checked Jax, causing him to swerve away from Pomni.

Pomni accelerated away, more shouts and explosions fading. It was oddly quiet in the tunnel to the Lair. Just her and kart. The engine pushed to it's limit, the tires screaming on each tight turn, the chime of the item button after going through a box. All the chaos. All the madness that was suddenly her life. It all felt so simple now.

Race.

The pistons were her heart beat. The wind was her breath. The world around her blurred as she burst into the nest cavern. She held out her hand. A cupcake.

She ate it. Candle and all.

She hit the ramp at maximum speed. She flew so high and fast, she didn't even register she hit the target. She couldn't hear Caine over the adrenaline. The kart raced so far ahead of everyone else, she was waiting a whole twenty seconds at the finish line for anyone else to show up.

Caine congratulated her in person. Shaking her hand so vigorously, her whole body shook with it. Confetti rained down from the sky. The crowd of faceless and nameless NPCs was on its feet. The other racers stood with her and waved at the crowd.

Pomni couldn't remember her name. She couldn't remember how she got here. But one feeling was familiar to her. Victory. Turns out it tastes just as sweet in the digital world....and it was addicting.

~~~

Behind the finish line was the garage. Inside the garage were private quarters for the racers. Inside one of these rooms was Kaufmo, or rather, what was left of him. A black disjointed mass of eyes and limbs splayed out on the floor. The cheering outside sent it into a flying rage, crashing against the wall, trying to force its way out.

The voices. The noise. The ceaseless, endless noise. Make it stop!

MAKE IT STOP!

M̷̤̙̦̼͇̩̖͍͔̒̈́͗̍͊͂̔A̴̦͗Ḳ̵̰͙̮̻̂͂̓̐̉̓́̈͒̈́̚͠Ȩ̵̈́͛̏̿͑ ̵̢̣͎̲̭̲͔̖̱̔̔̈́̀̐̃̚͘͠Ĩ̴̧̨͉͇̟͙̌Ţ̴͈̞͉͕̭͓̰͔̏̋̈́̈͐̈́͆̔ͅ ̶̻̰̪̠͙͓͗̌̓̏̈́̈́̀S̴̛̠̻͙̼̫̼̱͚͛̈́̔̊́̊͑̿̊̀Ţ̵̖̳̻͙̲̮̺̹͈͈̯́͝ͅO̷̠̖̤͈̚̚ͅP̶̧̨̼̣̤͇̮̣͔̻̹̩͒̏̌̔͗̇̄̒̓́̚

~~~

Ch2

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

“Warning to Youths Who Roam Streets at Night,” Ottawa Citizen. February 8, 1933. Page 1. ---- Two Sent to Reformatory For Breaking Into Store. ==== "With young men roaming the streets at all hours of the night and frequenting questionable resorts, the result is almost inevitable," said Magistrate Strike in police court to two young men who appeared before him for sentence on a charge of shopbreaking. "Apparently you have been subject to no control or discipline and were allowed to get into bad company." 

Edmund Horler, 26 years, of 140 Arlington avenue, who was on parole for a sentence on a previous conviction, drew 18 months definite and an indeterminate period of not more than two years less one day thereafter in the Ontario reformatory. Gilbert Faulkner, 18 years, 389 Gladstone avenue, on account of its being his first offence, was sentenced to eight months definite and an indeterminate period of not more than one year. The two broke into R. E. Powell's grocery store, 290 Elgin street.

[cutestkilla]

Happy Sunday! Thanks for the tags today @monbons, @run-for-chamo-miles, @orange-peony and @nausikaaa.

(And @thewholelemon and @rimeswithpurple on Wednesday.) I love all of your creations!

So this week, I posted updates on two different fics. (A first for me, and probably something that will never ever happen again 😂.) It often seems to end up that I'm too busy when I actually am working on the WIP to share it, so instead, have an indeterminate number of sentences from each of those updates. Under the cut for length (and spoilers and minor smuttiness too, I guess).

First, from Ch 2 of Into Her Arms (a birthday gift for @ivelovedhimthroughworse written by @bookish-bogwitch and I):

He raises his head and looks at the reams of streamers and bunches of balloons hung from every bookcase in sight. “Very beautiful,” he says seriously. Then he points. “Aubergine, emerald and crimson.” Natasha smiles proudly. “That's right darling, just like you asked for.” Basil tilts his tiny head to the side, squinting at one of the nearby balloons. “But is that—” He screws up his mouth like he just sucked on a lemon. “Why did you use tape, mummy?” It certainly wouldn't have been Natasha's first choice to spend the past hour and a half climbing up and down and then back up a ladder. She might prefer to be dealing with matters of far greater import, such as the care and cultivation of every single young mind in the World of Mages, but today is too special to leave in the hands of the staff. Today, she’s celebrating her precious boy’s third birthday, and no matter how busy she is with curriculum updates and budget allocations and dealing with the unfortunate results of a careless fourth year putting magic into the phrase “The bomb dot com”, Natasha is determined to give every aspect of this party a mother’s touch.

And from Chapter 7 of Hiding Out in the Open, my gift to @artsyunderstudy:

There’s a new potential charging the air. Like the possibility of sex is somehow bending spacetime, like the lube I left out on the milkcrate next to his bed is a gravity well, dragging his hand down, lower and lower on my stomach with every circle it traces. His knuckles brush through the hair below my navel, and I hold my breath. I hold it as he skims across the waistband of my pants. I hold it when touches me through the thin fabric, as the backs of his fingers graze across my cock, until I can't anymore and it comes out unbidden, as a small raw sound, into his mouth. He hums and keeps going, making smaller and smaller circles and I can’t—I don’t know if I can— “Simon,” I say, without meaning to say anything at all, and he groans. One of his wings wraps around me, crushes me against him, and I can feel how hard he is against my hip. He kisses me hard, pulling my lower lip between his teeth, and I groan too.

TAGS!

@hushed-chorus @shrekgogurt @whatevertheweather @emeryhall @facewithoutheart

@you-remind-me-of-the-babe @aristocratic-otter @fatalfangirl @whogaveyoupermission @skeedelvee

@raenestee @ileadacharmedlife @onepintobean @martsonmars @brilla-brilla-estrellita

@moodandmist @captain-aralias @j-nipper-95 @iamamythologicalcreature @roomwithanopenfire

@angelsfalling16 @best--dress @chen-chen-chen-again-chen @ic3-que3n

@larkral @letraspal @messofthejess @mooncello

@nightimedreamersworld @palimpsessed @prettygoododds @noblecorgi

@stitchyqueer @technetiumai @that-disabled-princess @theearlgreymage @urban-sith

@valeffelees @youarenevertooold @cosmicalart @alexalexinii

@forabeatofadrum @supercutedinosaurs @theimpossibledemon @blackberrysummerblog

[scottishcommune]

In 2015, Nicol killed himself in prison. He was 37. It was only then that Mooney discovered he had been right all along. Nicol had a four-year tariff (the minimum amount of time he could serve in jail) and an indeterminate sentence, known as imprisonment for public protection. IPP is also called a 99-year sentence because people serving one can, technically, be jailed for 99 years. When they are released, it is on a 99-year licence, which means they can be recalled to prison at any time in their life for even minor breaches, such as being late for a probation appointment (although the Parole Board will consider whether to terminate the licence 10 years after first release)...

[indelicateink]

maybe this question can only be answered by s3, but

something i’m kinda struggling with is: after daniel’s reveal of armand’s duplicity, louis seems to absolve lestat of claudia’s death. the crux of it all seemed to be that armand was the one to help orchestrate louis’s death, and lestat stepped in at the last second and manipulated the audience to sentence him to ‘banishment’ (so it turns out he was ‘only’ locked in a nightmare box for a long indeterminate amt of time, but that’s another post)

at some point louis’s anger shifted from claudia’s death to culpability for louis’s attempted murder?

because given s2, i’m under the impression that whatever his motives, lestat does bear some responsibility for claudia’s death. she would have died whether he testified or not, but he chose to be a party to it (to save louis).

did flipping through the script with armand’s stage directions help louis see enough ‘lestat—do this, lestat—do that’ to give him the impression lestat was a pawn? i guess that was enough to get him over the hump of lestat participating in claudia’s murder? and/or was sleeping with the enemy for 77 years such a blow to louis that anything in comparison was small beans?

lol, i’m a fan of loustat and all the parties involved (and i know they’re all our beloved monstrous monsters), i’m not against any of them; i’m just struggling with louis’s thought process on this one. maybe i’m missing something? is he taking claudia’s death off lestat’s ledger, or has it just stopped mattering by the 2020s?

[lizhly-writes]

hi there, welcome to wip <date indeterminate>. today, i'm addressing July 3rd, and the 7 asks/replies i got that day, all for the file [ REDACTED ]. now to be honest, i repeatedly lost track of how many sentences i wrote/edited in this file, but i'm almost certain i've hit at least 21 at this point, so i'm calling that done.

anyway.

@eriquin @post-and-out @adhdavinci @zyrafowe-sny @gnomer-denois @aparticularbandit @auburnlaughter have a bunch of sentences i wrote in a different file

.

A-Hua had had an imaginary friend for as long as he could remember. 'As long as he could remember' felt like a very short time; it, in fact, was a very short time, since A-Hua was only three years old. Three seemed to be an awfully small number. Often, he found himself thinking this number should be much bigger. Twenty-something? Thirty-something? Maybe even bigger than that? But his friend always told him not to worry about it, so he didn't.

His friend's name was System, and it was a cheerful voice in his head, paired with glowy floating rectangles that made funny noises when he poked at them. System always had jobs for him to do, and A-Hua was always happy to do them. They weren't always fun, but they were different, and anyway, there were lots of pretty pictures and colors once he finished them.

System said that once A-Hua got bigger, it would give him bigger jobs, which was a little scary if he thought about it for too long. "Will they be fun?" A-Hua asked.

[ Of course! User 01 can rest assured that the larger the task, the larger the reward! ]

System said A-Hua was going to play an important role in the fate of the world. He was going to be the An Ding Peak Lord one day and he was going to be a very important person and boss over an entire mountain of people and none of this sounded good for some reason? It sounded weirdly dangerous and bad, even though it should sound really cool and awesome?

System told A-Hua not to worry about it. System knew everything, and System told A-Hua that everything was going to be fine, so everything should be fine?

System was a fucking liar.

System didn't know shit, because if it did, System would have known that it was going to get its ass kicked out of Shang Houhua's head.

[veliseraptor]

ok ok inspired by the recent success of the three sentence meme going to try my regular pre-flight 150 words meme. aka send me a number from the list of fics below and I will write 150 words in that fic

1. Pete sat down on the floor. Porsche, hovering, gave him a worried look. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Pete said, then adjusted, “sitting.” 

“I can see that,” Porsche said. “Are you okay?”

Pete laughed. “No,” he said. He didn’t know when he was going to be okay again.

“Um,” Porsche said. After a couple seconds he sat down on the floor with Pete and put an awkward hand on his shoulder. “Do you, uh, want to talk about it?”

“No,” Pete said again. He didn’t know what he would even say, if there was anything to say. He was so tired and it felt like any minute now Vegas was going to die again, and he was just waiting for it to happen. (reduce, reuse, recycle)

2. “Can I ask you something?” Xiao Xingchen asked. Xue Yang glanced in his direction, fingers pausing on his keyboard.

“Sure,” he said. “Sounds ominous. Hit me.”

“It’s nothing bad,” Xiao Xingchen said. “I was just wondering if you remember what you said when we first met.” Xue Yang had said no before, in the hospital, but it’d clearly been a lie then. He was hoping maybe the answer would be different now. Xue Yang made some kind of face, but it was hard to read. 

That, Xiao Xingchen thought absently, was one of the things he was going to miss most: the ability to see Xue Yang’s face and read his expressions. Not just because he liked looking at him, but because it was going to get even harder to tell what he was thinking. (Redux)

3. Which brought him here, in a room with a dirty, scruffy boy of indeterminate age (a skinny fifteen, maybe), his hands tied behind his back and an expression of casual unconcern on his face. Unconcern, except for the dangerous glint in his eyes that Jin Guangyao was going to be careful not to forget.

“I didn’t say to restrain him,” he said to the disciples who’d brought him back. He hadn’t, to be precise, told them to bring him at all, but there was no point in saying so now.

“He tried to attack me,” said one of them. 

“After you got in my face,” the boy said. “You deserved it.” (jgy teaches xy to read)

4. Oh, no, Pete thought again, but with a little more despair this time.

“Take Pete,” Khun Kinn said.

Vegas’s gaze swept to Pete, flicked slowly over him from head to toe. “Isn’t he one of Tankhun’s?” he said. “He won’t be thrilled that you’re loaning out his bodyguard to me.”

“That’s not your problem.”

“Considering Tankhun,” Vegas said, “it actually might end up being my problem.” (the devil drives)

5. That slight hitch. A correction. The muscles between Fenris’s shoulders tensed and he thought abruptly, disjointedly, of a red-haired woman sitting at a table in the Hanged Man, the sudden realization…

“Anders,” he said. The mage barely glanced at him, seeming distracted.

“That big thing in the sky is scarier,” said the young girl. She, unlike her father, was looking at Fenris. “I heard it’s full of demons that’re trying to come out. What’re those lines on your skin, mister?” 

“They’re tattoos,” Fenris said. His limbs felt heavy. He glanced toward his sword, three paces away. “Meant to imitate Dalish vallaslin.” He hadn’t meant to say that. Something was wrong. “Anders,” he said again.

Anders was looking at his hands and frowning. “Bloody hell,” he said. “Where did you find magebane?” (the best all lack conviction)

6. Malkar meant it when he’d said he was going to demand a lot of me. He said if I wanted to be a hocus - wizard - nobody could know where I came from. “Do you think the Mirador will welcome a whore from Pharoahlight?” he asked me. “No one must ever know where you came from. They’d throw you out on the streets. Now tell me about the Curia again, and for god’s sake, mind your vowels.” 

And when I didn’t do well enough, fast enough, there were always consequences.

“This is how you learn, Felix,” Malkar said while I was shaking on hands and knees at his feet. He bent down and took my chin and tilted my head back so I was looking up at him, but he was gentle about it now. “It is for your own good.” (Pygmalion)

7. “Why are you so eager,” Song Lan asked. Xue Yang laughed, his smile turning sharper, a little less pleased.

“Why wouldn’t I be? A chance to help these poor people. Wouldn’t miss it.” Song Lan waited silently, and Xue Yang’s eyes cut away. “I’m curious, Song-daozhang,” he said. “Is there something wrong with that? Walking around with you and your judgmental glare gets boring. Give me a problem to chew on, a mystery to figure out, something.” (Walking Far From Home)

8. “Tell me...tell me how we met,” Xiao Xingchen said.

A brief pause that made Xiao Xingchen’s stomach swoop with sudden unease. “What,” his friend said lightly, “did you forget that, too?” 

“I’m…” Xiao Xingchen wasn’t sure if he should apologize or not. He tried to remember, even if thinking made his head hurt, searching through his jumbled thoughts. Something about the smell of blood? A fragment of thought: at least I might be able to fix this.  “You were hurt,” he said, half a question.

“Uh huh,” his friend said. “That’s good.”

“And I found you,” Xiao Xingchen said, a little more confidently. “Helped you.” (xiao xingchen + concussion)

[changedmyminditsnicehere]

Trying to kick myself into actually writing one of my WIPs, any WIP at all and I think I managed to summarise my approach to writing Dream in three sentences:

Dream was Endless. He did not normally apologise. He also did not normally spend an indeterminate amount of time clutching his only friend while sobbing and trying not to get metaphysical snot on their jumpers.

[corn-fanfiction]

SAVIOUR COMPLEX (Mark Hoffman x F!Reader) (Pt. 15)

(Part 14) (Part 16)

Rating: M

AN: IM SO SORRRYYYYYYY when I tell you life has been busy I mean BUSY. But here's part 15!!! Please forgive me!!! Please!!!!!!!!

Warnings: canon-typical violence

After everything, after all this time, the surmounting self help and therapy and books and house plants and hobbies and keeping yourself happy and distant, the first and only thing you can think,

What did I do?

What did I do what did I do what did I do?

What could you possibly have done to deserve this? Waking up on a concrete floor that's covered in dark stains of questionable origin, though you have some sickening inkling. The low lighting, distant hum of electricity, metallic tang to the air…you know exactly where you are, even if you don't know why.

You know even before the voice crackles to life over a speaker above you.

“Hello y/n. I'd like to play a game.”

Despite your premonition you still choke on a sob. You didn't even have enough time between awakening and the reveal to have false hope. That this is a mistake.

“This is no traditional game, however.”

Dramatically, a blinding spotlight switches on. It reveals cell bars surrounding you, next to you, and then you hear the groan of Mark waking up, iron bars between you.

“You've taken Mark Hoffman as your lover despite the mounting evidence that he is a killer…”

Mark stirs, finds your eyes.

“...And he is.”

No. No no no no no no

But even Mark's eyes speak the truth.

“He killed Ted, and many before him, and he will continue to do so, unless you stop him.”

You can barely hear the continued directions. Distantly, you're aware of the question of who is plotting this show if Mark is the Jigsaw killer, but all you can focus on is the hollow point of betrayal that's widening in your chest as each second ticks torturously by. And with each tick, Mark isn't denying any of it.

“However, my goal is twofold. If you survive your test, you will be able to bring Mark Hoffman to justice. You will let the world know what he has done.”

So what are you guilty of? Love? Being fooled yet again? Were you willfully ignorant? No, that couldn't be it. You knew what you knew and nothing pointed to-

But it did. At the end of it all, you know what a coin toss looks like. You had a 50/50 shot. You just chose wrong.

Still, is that a death sentence?”

“If you do not survive your test…Mark Hoffman will have one more thing to hate himself for, and he will be exposed.”

And Mark does look like he hates himself in this moment. But not as much as the hole in your chest is filling with hate for him.

“The only difference is your survival.”

He could be getting framed. It could be a massively complicated and constructed lie to set him up for failure, prison, death.

Then deny it. Please. Before I hate you beyond repair.

His silence is earth shattering.

“Here is your task….

You will have three minutes once your cell door unlocks. In the room with you is a phone. It is simple enough. Make a call. Turn Mark in. Free yourself of this misfortune you continue to find yourself in.

But.

You will have to survive Mark Hoffman.”

Your head turns and, similar to that night after you saw someone outside your bedroom window- presumably whomever is speaking to you now- you realize with a terror instead of comfort Mark's build. Despite his injury, which seems to have been somewhat repaired, he can easily take you.

Why have you so suddenly accepted your task? So easily accepted Mark's guilt and, by association, yours as well?

Because it does make sense. And unfortunately, yet again, you're reminded of the one rule you seem to consistently forget throughout your life.

People lie.

“If you do not make the call by the end of the timer, a lethal gas will deploy, killing you both. Live or die. Make your choice.”

The cell door clicks and for an indeterminate moment of time, you and Mark stare at each other, both of you crouched to the ground. The air hums with the vibrations of tension, almost animalistic. You don't know for certain what he'll do, but you know what you'll do. And so does he.

You don't bother to look at the door before you bolt to it. It flies open and your legs carry you fast towards a table where the phone sits. You're smaller and uninjured so you're faster than he is. The sound of him cursing and bounding towards you sends your heart into a vice panic. He'll break you if he gets you. You'll die here. It's been him all along. He won't spare you if it doesn't mean escape.

Your hand extends to the phone but you're knocked to the ground just out of reach. He's barrelled into you with his good shoulder. You brace for further impact but none comes. Mark stands over you. Behind his shoulder, a timer ticks down in bright red numbers.

“You want us both to die?” You wheeze, still trying to recover the air that was knocked from you. “You don't want to kill me. And prison doesn't have to mean death for you, either. Not with them,” you point towards the darkness of the ceiling, referring to your captor.

Mark huffs and shakes his head. “I can't let you make that call.”

You push yourself to stand. A minute gone.

“There's no other option. Mark. Please. Let's set this right.”

“I didn't kill these people, and I'm not going to jail for it. They'll kill me.”

“And then we will both die! I don't care what you say. I'm ending this.”

You go to the phone, entirely convinced he won't stop you. But right when your hand grips the receiver, Mark has his arm around your neck in a chokehold. Instinct screams at you to free both your hands to counter but you have the good sense to consider the phone in your hand a weapon. Your free hand shoots up to scratch his face, pull his hair, distract him as you pick up the base to the phone and bash it against the side of his head. He releases you, stumbles back.

You push yourself forward. Try to move away as best as you can and punch in 9-1-1 at the same time.

“911, what's the location of your emergency?”

“I don't know, I-”

Pulled again. Forced to the ground and the headset flies from your hand. And suddenly, in a way that is wholly surprising to you despite it all, Mark is straddling your chest. The phone cord is stretched taut in his hands.

“There has to be another way out of here. I don't wanna hurt you.”

He sounds like he means it, but you can't take that chance.

“You already have,” you whisper.

“Whoever put us in here killed Ted, don't you get that? Probably Jigsaw accomplices, like Amanda Young. They'd have to be twisted enough to do this to us.”

Any fight you're giving begins to settle as you digest his words, their logic wedging its way into your brain. The possibility of him being framed seeps back into your mind.

“I didn't kill Ted. I promise.”

He's seeing you work through this in your mind. But something about that sentiment sticks.

“Mark-”

“I don't know how to prove it to you-”

“Mark. Are you a murderer?”

“No, I didn't kill any of those people.”

He's working his jaw. He's growing impatient.

“Will you let me up, please? The cops have likely traced the call by now. The only thing we can do is wait.”

He hesitates but eventually shifts so you can stand. The phone still lays discarded on the floor but you doubt it matters anymore.

“I didn't kill-”

“Any of those people. I know.”

You've made it abundantly clear.

Maybe Mark didn't kill Ted. Maybe it wasn't him in these recent murders. But there has to be a reason Gibson and Perez believe he's capable of the past Jigsaw killings.

The possibility now, the mere likelihood puts you on edge. It doesn't really matter since the police will be here soon. But you keep your distance.

You hear the sirens. Mark is staring holes into your head. You inhale, exhale. He's still in his bloodied clothes, gripping his injured side, hair in his face, breathing ragged.

From here, he certainly looks like a killer.

[peachesofteal]

with all these asks im resigning myself more and more to the bittersweet ending of them not getting back together but it being for the benefit of them all 😭

they obviously love eachother so much but for several chapters there’s this idea that’s been floating in the back of my head haunting me lol. idk when it’s mentioned, but you said in an ask that ‘simon’s job when he’s home is just darling’ in that he shoulders taking care of her. which is so lovely and when she isn’t doing well it seems necessary, BUT i feel like its cruel long term. he almost sets her up to fail (not on purpose) bc he gives her all of the support and attention he can and then he goes basically no contact for an indeterminate amount of time in a very dangerous environment where he can’t guarantee he’ll ever come home, and when she falters without the crutch, he gets home and has to do so much legwork just for her to get back to “baseline”. and this repeats over and over and she never gets the opportunity to really take control of her own health and wellness.

i can’t see it working longterm if one or both of the boys stays on fieldwork, but i feel like simon talking to price was about getting to him to switch to deskwork but the Hand of Author God makes me feel like him switching wouldn’t have worked if bringing it up for the first time made everything so fucked up like this lmao. like, for this whole blowup to happen because she never let him finish his sentence to say “i’m switching off fieldwork” seems like too much of a consequence for it to be the ONLY problem with the plan

him being on deskwork fixes the on-off support with darling, but he’d probably be miserable and then johnny would be alone in the field without his support. and the 141 would be definitely kneecapped if half their team transitioned to deskwork, and i feel like there’s too much camaraderie for them to leave Price and Gaz high and dry like that

i think it’ll end up happy but not in the way that erases all of the issues that have been building. which sucks. but is very empowering to darling, to potentially see her get out of the cycle of hurt that honestly hurts MORE since it comes from such pure intentions. she loves her boys and they love her but it’s so hard on them all :’)))) maybe a few years down the line when she’s more solid and self-sufficient she could withstand the downsides of their job better, and maybe by then they’d be semi retired from age or injury anyways, but idk. then it starts to become simple math HAHAHA

id love for u to prove me entirely wrong and be like no actually the power of love fixes it all, they all get happy and pseudo married or whatever and no one is sad ever again but i feel like you’re not gonna do that lmfao

anyways hugs and kisses for this story its eating me alive HAHAHA

All I will say is happy endings are ✨ subjective ✨ but don’t resign yourself to anything, just wait and see 🖤

[dubs-is-a-slime-girl]

What is a dubs?

Dubs is a slime girl!

Dubs uses it/she pronouns, and often refers to itself by name. It prefers to not capitalize its name, although it's capitalized at the start of sentences for readability.

This blog is meant to contain stories about dubs. These stories will sometimes be kinky or even horny, because she is definitely both of those things.

Check below the cut for details about dubs and her physiology!

Appearance

Dubs is usually about 4’10” standing up. Its entire body is made of red-pink slime, colored like cherry soda. It has short, messy hair, or at least the shape of hair, which is slightly darker than the rest of its body.

In its most common shape, it has a chubby build with a pear-shaped figure. However, it can change shape at will, with some effort, and can spread its mass any way it wants. Some of dubs’ other preferred shapes are a puddle, a stereotypical round slime, or even a freeform writhing mass of blobs and appendages. It prefers a humanoid shape, and often enjoys tinkering with its proportions by adding or removing slime; sometimes it sinks into a puddle halfway, leaving everything from the waist up. Other times, it becomes a head that slides along the floor or sits in someone's lap.

Texture

Dubs has a default texture similar to jelly, which leaves a sticky film on anything it touches. However, it can fairly easily change this texture by hardening or softening its “skin”, a sort of membrane that covers its entire body. At its firmest level, dubs has a skin that feels like that of a typical human, albeit extremely smooth. This is the texture it typically prefers to be around other people. However, with this texture it often needs to wear socks or shoes in order to keep from slipping on most flat surfaces. It can relax its firmness a bit and will start to become very floppy and soft, akin to a water balloon. Dubs will still move itself normally this way, but can easily be squished around by others. As it lowers its firmness still, it starts to drip small pieces of itself involuntarily and becomes very sticky.

Slime Mass and Hydration

Dubs’ actual mass is indeterminate; it takes in moisture to add to its mass, and shrinks over time due to evaporation. This evaporation happens more slowly when its skin is firm, but even at its most human-like level, it will still lose about 4L of moisture every 24 hours. Compared to the average human density of 60% water, dubs is approximately 95% water, so the moisture lost will directly and visibly shrink its total mass. In other words, without any replenishment, dubs will lose at least 10 lbs per day, more if it spends time in a more viscous form.

Dubs can easily replenish moisture by either drinking it directly or by touching it with any other part of its mass. Removing moisture intentionally is more difficult, but possible. With focus, it can force some of its mass to become completely liquid, to the point that it falls off and is no longer part of its body. It will often do this to make itself lighter or more compact.

Dubs enjoys playing by increasing and decreasing its mass intentionally. Naturally, the bathtub is an easy place to do this, with both a faucet and a large drain available. It loves to draw a bath and hop on, gradually absorbing the entire tub’s contents, then later on draining it back into the tub.

Other times, it enjoys carefully draining off most of its moisture until it’s only a fraction of its usual size, as small as only a foot tall in humanoid form. It will often put itself into small containers this way, or glide around on the floor like a red transparent curling stone.

Dubs’ slime mass is nontoxic to humans and animals alike, if not particularly nutritious, and supposedly tastes faintly of artificial cherry flavor.

Sensory

Dubs has no dedicated sensory organs, instead filtering sensory input through its entire body mass. It has eyes but doesn't need to see through them specifically, although in many situations it finds it easiest to limit its visual input to its eyes. It's able to see, hear, touch, and taste with any surface. It can also smell to some extent, but has trouble distinguishing this from “taste” since the smell is essentially a taste in the air.

As with its eyes, dubs finds it enriching to simulate the different sensations that normal humans feel in different parts of their bodies by tweaking the level of sensory input and often the firmness of its skin; for example, a more sensitive part of the body might have thinner skin and more nerve endings in a human, so it can achieve a similar effect by focusing its sense of touch there while making it less firm.

As a slime girl, it has no actual bodily organs, including reproductive organs or other erogenous zones. However, dubs has become very adept at creating reasonable facsimiles of “important” parts which work “good enough” for dubs.