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#it comes with this weird feeling of vertigo. like i turn my head and my thoughts are spinning too fast. they keep going despite my standing
opens-up-4-nobody · 1 year
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#sometimes i feel like my brain is disintegrating in my head. coming apart like a lump of paper in a pool of water#it comes with this weird feeling of vertigo. like i turn my head and my thoughts are spinning too fast. they keep going despite my standing#still. its also a but when you start drinking something and when u stop your thoughts r hazy and ur breathing is heavy#maybe thats not a universal experience. sometimes when i stop i realize ive slipped half out of my body#and now im stumbling from day to day trying desperately to remember all the things im supposed to be managing#but there are these big holes in my brain. like im missing chunks of grey matter. the bits that would let me stop and start things#i dunno. when im taking measurements i have this image of myself on my knees holding the fragrance pieces of my life together as they#crumble thru my fingers and my insides shrivle away from the walls that contain them. i go hollow like a gord#and ppl say oh ur so passionate abt what u do. and i go brittle bc it doesnt feel like passion it feels like the symptom of an illness#i dont care. im just trying to burn the hours away. make time vanish. and for what? what am i building toward? i have an answer that i give#interviewers but i dunno i never thought id make it this far. but here we r. unhappy and lacking in purpose. its just that this last year#was so weird bc about a year ago i burned out so hard that i never recovered and it just got worse and worse. i feel now that ive stopped#the bleeding at least but the bitterness is still there. still infecting my words and curving my spine around the injury#and in theory i understand the path to healing but its hard when im just so. i dont even kno. angry? im not mad but the word feels right#but i dunno what id be angry about. maybe im just sick of empty tasks and not caring. i used to have passion and enthusiasm now i just feel#fragile and hurt. bracing for pain. and that makes me so sad. i wish i could go out into the woods and wander. just breathe#but no. instead ill start another day identical to 100 others and hope to keep my head above the surface bc im sick of swallowing sea water#anyway. itll b fine. hopefully this week i can commit to a program. hopefully. another program halfway across the country. this time#vertically. landing me still 2 time zones from home. but hopefully there i can breathe a little. maybe. hopefully. well see#unrelated
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ceriseheaven · 1 year
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joseph quinn x fem!reader
you were bit dizzy when you got back home from work, you set on living room to rest, joseph came in few minutes ago, he found you in living room, sleeping, you just waken up, he asked that are you sick, you responded. he carrie’s to you in bedroom to take some rest. *fluff*
(thanks and have a good day)
i need him
warnings: descriptions of passing out but other than that it's all fluff fluff fluff
~
home sweet home. it was true what they said, there's no place like home. the only place you can let your guard fall after a long exhausting day.
you can't put your finger on what it was about today that wore you out like this exactly. maybe it was the endless traffic, maybe it was your boss constantly bitching in your ear about mistakes made by your coworkers that you needed to fix, maybe it was how your shoes were a little too tight on your feet, maybe it was the shitty coffee you had in the morning on an empty stomach or the fact that you haven't had the time to eat anything else since. whatever the reason might've been, when you came home you were drained. all you wanted was to throw your shoes away, eat an actual meal, take a relaxing shower and fall asleep in the cozy bed you share with your lover.
but you didn't do any of that.
the moment you walked into the safety of your four walls, you felt the lightheadedness kicking in. your vision became blurry as your heart begun beating faster, you could hear it pulsing everywhere. thudding in your ear, your neck, your temple, your wrists, every pulse point was beating too hard for your own good. every artery in your body felt like it's been shrunk too small for it to handle the flows of blood your heart is pumping and your veins weren't bringing enough oxygen back to your heart, making your pressure drop.
you managed to successfully make it to the living room where you slumped and laid down on the couch with your legs elevated on the armrest. you put your hand on your heart, trying to get it to calm down a little bit. your entire body felt too light as your eyelids started getting too heavy to keep open so you shut them and gave up into the vertigo taking over your senses.
the next time you opened your eyes, you were still just as spent as the time before but now the wooziness and heart palpitation were mild. your blood pressure still incredibly low, you can tell by how your head is spinning and there's white spots in your vision but you're not about to pass out again, hopefully.
once you decide to take a second to rest, curling up into a ball, you hear the sound of a car's engine being turned off in the driveway, signaling that joe's back home but he comes home at 6, you got home at 4 so that means you were passed out for two hours, you think and confusion begins taking space in your brain because it didn't feel like two hours, it felt like you just blinked.
the sound of the door being opened and joe's footsteps walking in your shared home halts the thoughts from flooding into your brain any further.
he doesn't see your shoes in the doorway which is weird because you always leave them there when you take them off, he knows that too well because he always picks them up and puts them away. he doesn't think much of it but then you don't come to the door to fling yourself in his arms like you usually do and that's when worries begins filling up his chest. "baby?" he calls for you while taking his shoes off. "in here babe" you say loud enough for him to hear and he sighs when he does, relieved that you're home and safe but that feeling dissolves once he walks into the living room and sees the state you're in.
"what the hell happened here?" he rushed into your side and examines you, shoes still on and goosebumps on your skin. you lift your head up and give him a weak smile. "no kiss hello first?" you try to break his concern but it doesn't work as it seems it's painted on his face to remain. "hi my love" he leans forward and pecks your lips, softly, moving some hair off your face to get a clearer view and his worry only grows when he sees how pale you look. "what happened? did you black out or something?"
"i think so but i can't really remember, my blood pressure got too low probably" you tell him and grab onto his arm to get up but he lays you back down and lift your legs on his shoulder. "you've eaten anything today?" his hands grab your ankles to take your incredibly painful shoes off leaving you almost groaning at the feeling of your toes being free as you wiggle them around a bit. "i got too caught up in work and forgot." you start fiddling with your fingers to avoid his stare but you can still sense it burning on your face then you hear him sigh. "alright.. stay here." he puts your legs on the armrest again and disappears into the kitchen.
the sound of the fridge opening then closing and the clicking of silverware takes over the house then you hear the microwave peeping. you decide to rest your eyes a little bit but before you know it, the cushions sink in, indicating your boyfriend is back. "come on, we need to get some food in your belly before you pass out again." he grabs your arms and pull you into a sitting position then hands you a fork of leftover lasagna but withholds it once he notices your shaky hands approaching it. "no open up"
"joe i can eat by myself" you try to reach for the fork again but he holds it further and nods no. "i wanna do it, just sit back and let me feed you okay love?" he plants a soft kiss on your cheek and you give in, doing like he asked.
the dinner went by in comfortable silence. every time you tried to start a conversation, joe shoved another forkful of food in your mouth, telling you "we have all the time in the world to talk, first finish your food" then he fed you the entirety of the plate before handing you a glass of your favorite juice to wash the food down with. "how are you feeling babe?" he wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into him.
you nuzzle your head in his neck, the beard there scratching your face but you've missed him too much to care. "so much better, thank you" you tell him, kissing his jaw as his other arm sneaks under your legs, pulling you into his lap. "it was weird not having you run to the door when i came in" he snorts out, his hand grabbing your arm and wrapping it around his shoulder. "aww i'm sorry honey i'll make sure not to pass out before you get home next time" you coo sarcastically before he gets up, carrying you in the process, bridal style.
"joseph no!" you squeal out only to have him mock your tone sardonically. "joseph no!" that earns him a light smack to the chest which he chuckles at. "put me down" you whine loudly in his ear and kick your feet but he hoists you up higher, making you squeal again. "stop kicking like a baby i'm trying to be a good boyfriend and take care of you and stuff" his words melt your heart and draw a smile on your face so you hold his and give him a big kiss on the cheek, one that's a little too sloppy and he scrunches his nose at it. "thanks thank you so very much" he utters out and you give him a sweet innocent toothy grin. "you're so very welcome"
he walks you into your shared bedroom and the sight of the made up bed, soft pillows and warm duvet alone relaxes your tensed muscles, you've been waiting to lay in bed since you got up and left it. once he walks to your side and attempts to lower you down, sudden your grip on his shoulders tighten. "no no no no you know how i feel about being in bed in my outside clothes and makeup" you warn and he looks at you perplexed at first but then nods in understanding, he looks over the rest of the bed then back at you. "well i don't mind it so how about you take my side until you're rested enough for shower?" looking at his side of the bed, you consider the offer for a second. you don't want to get his side all dirty but he said that he doesn't care so maybe you should take his word for it, besides you're too tired and just want to lay down on your cozy mattress so you're definitely taking his word for it.
"fine your side it is" you tell him and he circles the bed until he's standing at the other side but he keeps holding you firm in his arms. "actually, i think i could use some rest too" he says and sits on the bed with his back against the headboard and you on his lap then he lowers his body until he's laying down and you're completely over him. forget the cozy mattress, this is way better and warmer and more cuddly.
he wraps his arms around you, embracing you tightly and you do the same. your heart finally found the normal rhythm it's been chasing and aching for all evening. "do you wanna tell me about your day?" he asks, his hand running up and down your back under your shirt gently and occasionally stopping on your shoulders to give them a quick massage.
images of your day float through your brain like a highlight reel of your worst moments but with each touch of his and each second your breath syncs up with the man below you, the images become more blurry and more distant. almost like your vision when your blood pressure dropped but in a good way, like they're vanishing away and won't exist again. "it was just a bad day, not really worth talking about anymore."
he hums in response, respecting your boundaries and your choice to want to forget about the day that passed. "screw it then, it's over now. you've managed to push through and get to the end of it, that's all what matters." he tells you and lays a kiss on your temple then whisper. "i'm so proud of you, my love"
people don't really understand how much words matter and if they do, then they definitely underestimate them because what he said to you was simple, really simple but it still made gave you a sugar rush and fuzzy haze in your head. hearing the right thing from the right person at the right time does that and when all words fail, you decide to tell him what will always be true. "i love you."
"i love you too darling" he gives your forehead another kiss and continues rubbing your back, his other hand now buried in your hair, massaging your scalp and temples from any potential stress still lingering there.
you remain like that for a while, just resting in bed, on him before he gets up to run you both a bath. filling it up with warm water and adding lavender and rosemary oils then he lights up your favorite scented candles and puts on soft music from your favorite band. he carries you to the bathroom and helps you get undressed then strips down himself, putting your clothes away in the laundry basket.
the bath was exactly the calming agent you needed and joseph being there with you definitely helped, especially since he washed your hair and cleaned you up allowing you to just sit there and relax while his hands delicately roam your body.
you left the bathtub once the water started getting too cool for your liking. he helped you dry up and put your lotion on for you then you got dressed and made it to bed, your side of the bed. the feeling of the soft velvety comforter against your now lax figure felt heavenly and the feeling of the warm body wrapped around you from behind was holy. if you could suffocate from too much solace, you'd be dead by now.
maybe today wasn't as bad as it seemed after all and if it was, then at least it ended like this.
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shibaraki · 2 years
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A crooked pinkie finger twitches as you try to move, accompanied by the tell-tale sound bite of a character dying from above, flecks of dust crumbling briefly from the outer case of Tomura’s console. You huff when he tenses around your shoulders to keep you held in the crook of his arm, feeling his disdained grumbling against your crown where you remain pressed to his front. Limbs entangled, cramped together as if there is no other space on the large bed.
You murmur his name in complaint, tilting your head back to meet his gaze, pulsing red and curtained by stray hair. The bun must’ve come loose. “Tomura, baby. You gotta let me walk around a little. My legs are full of static”.
Chin ducking into the material of his hoodie, his eyes narrow. “Fine,” he says, slacking his grip just enough that you can slip away while keeping both hands either side of his switch. “Just hurry up. You’re my lucky charm and I need to beat this final boss”.
“Pretty sure I just heard your player die,” you tease, scooting to the edge of the mattress where feet finally meet carpet and glancing back to flash him a smile. The space is dim, light leaking steadily through the bowed gaps in his blinds just enough for you to see how his face contorts.
“Because you were leaving,” his voice rasps harshly into a choleric hiss. Again, you hear the mocking tune of his player being defeated, and the right stick cracks. “See?”
You laugh, interrupted by the slight buckling of your knees as you stand. Your legs are still somewhat numb, and you feel your body subconsciously startle at the lack of sensation with each step. Blood slowly returns to your toes and prickles up your ankles to your calves. From one end of the room to the other, you grimace through it.
“I don’t know how you can sit at the computer all day without moving,” you whine, bending to massage your thumb along your thigh, “it's like I've aged a decade”.
The buttons continue to click rapidly. He ignores you in favour of sounding out his combination moves — “Down back, forward , three KB... forward, forward three...” — and in your next step towards the bedframe you put a spin onto your heel, a hum vibrating between your lips to form a familiar tune. Edges blur together as you are momentarily awash with vertigo, stumbling to avoid the corner of his desk where it meets your hip.
“What’re you doing?” he mutters, watching you in his periphery with eyes flickering back and forth across his screen.
“Dancing,” you coordinate yourself better, arms extended to curl awkwardly toward your stomach as you turn once more to increase the velocity of your spin. It dampens some of your restlessness; it feels good to seek normalcy and indulge in a little silliness — something you thought Tomura should do more often.
“You look like you’re rag dolling,” he snorts. The quiet synth music pouring from the switch speakers abruptly stops as he pauses his game, dropping the console onto his sternum to reach for you. “If you’re done being weird come back to bed. Now”. 
His expression wanes, shifting with his emotions no matter how much he tries to remain stoic. Faux authority, then agitated, then beseeching. You understood the power at his fingertips, knew the harm he was capable of, but still you never feared him. You were weird for that too, he’d said. Like a captive animal with no instincts, helpless without even knowing it. 
You take the hand he offers to you, threading fingers into the spaces between his knuckles. His pinkie remains hooked, kept away from your precious skin regardless of his mastered control. Tomura took no chances when it came to you.
His demeanour softens at how seamlessly you touch him, only to twist in bewilderment as you begin to pull him toward yourself. Hesitant curiosity guides him to the edge of the bed, where you then encourage him to stand in your embrace.
Tomura goes without resistance, reflexively sinking into your warmth until you’re close enough to kiss away the slant in his mouth. He follows your backwards walk into the centre of the room and you fashion his arms around your waist, then smoothing your hands over the curve of his shoulders to rest them on his chest.
“Why’re you…” you feel his body stiffen once you attempt to sway him, rooting himself to the floor at the realisation. His fingers twitch irritably by the base of your spine. “I’m not doing this,” he protests.
“Please?” 
He casts a glance toward his game, abandoned between the sheets. “This is a waste of my time. You’re distracting me and I’m gonna forget my combos”.
“For me?” he tips his head back to avoid pleading eyes and the pout in your lips. You lean to feather light kisses against his pulse point, scarred and scratched pink. The refusal was all for the sake of maintaining his fraying dignity, to retain the lie that he was capable of saying no to you. That, and pure embarrassment. 
Tomura didn’t like to be bad at things. 
“There isn’t even any music,” he says, jaw shifting as he grits his teeth. Still, he doesn’t move away from you. Nosing gently at his jugular, you feel him shiver against your exhale, breath cooling over the small wet pecks left across his throat. 
“We don’t need any,” you tell him, “just wanna be close to you like this”. 
Visibly, you see him swallow. Your affectionate touches assuage the tension in his muscles enough that he begins to yield, and you smile through the hesitant rock of his weight between each foot as you move. 
You guide him and he takes to it like a lamb, no witness aside from the sun peeking through his crooked blinds. In your mind four simple chords play in a universal melody that puppets your rhythm; he mimics it cautiously, bottom lip caught between teeth.
Completely intertwined, the two of you slowly begin to turn as your bodies sway in tandem. There isn’t an elaborate routine or set of steps to adhere to, and you continue like this in harmonious silence, wrapping you in a blanket of comfort. Chest to chest, eight fingers curled into the back of your shirt with pinkies lifted, he stares at you in an anxious bid for approval.
“Thank you Tomura,” you murmur, hearing your own contentment bleeding into the words, “for always indulging me. You picked it up quicker than I thought”.
The tentative oscillation of your bodies hardly needed to be measured by skill but he corrects his slouch all the same, standing impossibly taller with you in his arms. Betrayed by the proud inflection in his voice he replies, “Like it’s hard”.
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tgrailwar-zero · 3 months
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Can we conjure a nice fashionable Accessory to wear for the Party?
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You focused incredibly hard, and managed to give yourself a nice hat.
Now you look like the life of the party.
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KUKULKAN: "Huh? Did I say something weird?" MUSASHI: "Hehe. I don't think so! 'Nice body', absolutely!"
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KUKULKAN: "I want first dance!"
Like a rocket taking off, you were suddenly scooped up into the air and spun around, KUKULKAN giggling happily as she pulled you around in the air, caught in a zero-gravity waltz.
Though once you were high enough, her smile faded. She began, rather abruptly, as if this had been something lingering in her mind for a while. Despite you dubious tangibility, you could feel her grip tighten a bit.
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KUKULKAN: "Gods are supposed to be cold and discerning, right?"
She asked, suddenly.
"They're supposed to do what needs to be done, no matter what happens or who gets hurt. But now, now I'm starting to have doubts. Gods are supposed to be powerful, and skillful… but all I'm really good at is beating things up, how can I be a wise god like that?"
It seemed like KUKULKAN saw herself as a 'fledging god', compared to others. It was a bit odd, the name 'Kukulkan' was that of an old god from an ancient civilization, and one that became conflated with the idea of wisdom and creation. And yet, when she spoke about herself, it seemed more as if she was simply borrowing the title.
She spun you in the air a bit, before catching you, resuming her statement with a complicated expression.
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KUKULKAN: "I meant what I said. I don't feel any love from the Solar Cell itself… but the people who live here, the people who work so hard to live, just like the people of Earth. Despite there being a part of myself deep down telling me to just let Draco wreak havoc, that it would just make it easier… my heart was glad that we helped them. I wonder if it felt good for you too, even if we didn't learn what we needed to?"
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Her voice got quieter, turning into a low, uncertain whisper.
KUKULKAN: "My 'Origin'… or my 'heart'… love, or destruction… how do you choose when both seem like the right answer? Which is which, when looking at this place? It's all so... much. And if I can't decide... what right did I have to make you choose...?"
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KUKULKAN: "Sorry, Masters. You summoned an unreasonable goddess who hasn't figured out her feelings yet. I thought I was certain, but now I'm not. Maybe I'll be uncertain forever, I don't know… my 'god level' isn't high enough for a task like this."
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KUKULKAN: "So, until I can trust my feelings, this 'Kukulkan', this Foreigner, this 'Invader from another world'… is going to put her trust in you, okay? Sorry for unloading like this, I know that this is your celebration-- and you earned it! I… I just had a lot on my mind."
She put you down, a slight feeling of dizziness and vertigo swiftly fading as MUSASHI and CONSTANTINE rejoined you.
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CONSTANTINE: "What were you two chatting about up there?" KUKULKAN: "Aha, nothing! I was just being a bit of a motormouth, yes?"
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MUSASHI: "From how she was whispering, it seemed like a confession? Come on, spill it!" KUKULKAN: "Well... I guess that isn't totally off the mark. It was a 'confession' of sorts, yes! But I got embarrassed and put them down before they could respond." MUSASHI: "No way, really?!"
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CONSTANTINE: "I have to agree. I'd figure a situation like this would be too stuffy for her." MUSASHI: "Maybe she's here on business?"
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You could see her blanch a bit, though she waved it off.
MUSASHI: "Not... particularlyyy... but if you need me to, that's fineee..." CONSTANTINE: "Miss Musashi, you seem a bit pale. Do you need me to get you anything?" MUSASHI: "Sheesh, such a gentleman..."
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KUKULKAN: "This is a rare chance, isn't it? Go off, have fun! Show off your body! We'll keep ourselves busy!"
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pudgecuddles · 4 months
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Proof Of Concept: Mad Science
[It's been a really weird week so what better way to cope than to check in on your magnum opus again? lol]
Namjoon Breast Growth & WG, Jin Route:
Synopsis thus far: Namjoon works for Jin’s company where he was accidentally exposed to a chemical that, unbeknownst to Namjoon, causes breast growth and weight gain. He decides to call Jin for help only for his boss to take him deeper into the facility…
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The elevator opened up to a mostly empty, blue walled hallway. Too dizzy to turn his head left or right, all Namjoon could immediately see was a handful of unlabeled metal doors. Interestingly, there were no door handles or visible card scanners to be found. Still helping Namjoon stay upright, Dr. Kim promptly walked them both to the closest door. As the doctor drew near, Namjoon heard a cheerful beep and the door slid open. Proximity sensors? “Here we go, Namjoon-ssi.” Dr. Kim led him to an actually very comfortable, if not pretty large, hospital cot. It was soft and smelt freshly washed. Namjoon flopped backwards in relief. Even with his eyes closed, his head was spinning. “Oh man… Thank you Dr. Kim.” Namjoon sighed. “A minute longer and I think I would have puked.” “It's the least I can do.” Dr. Kim’s voice came from the other side of the bed-like cot. “We want to make sure you’re comfortable during your stay here.” “Oh! You don’t need to worry about that.” Namjoon quickly assures. “I swear, I’ll be out of your hair and back to work as soon as my symptoms improve. I wouldn’t want to trouble you for longer than necessary.” “Hmm,” Dr. Kim didn’t pause in whatever he was fiddling with outside of Namjoon’s vision, “And how are you feeling right now, Namjoon-ssi?” The older man asked, brushing off what his new patient had just said. “Umm…” Namjoon took a second to give himself a small check up, “I’m really dizzy; vertigo, nausea, fever possibly? I’m pretty sweaty and uh- a bit bloated.” Glancing down at his middle, Namjoon saw an puffy bump where a flat stomach should've been. Dr. Kim looked over at that. “Yes, that all lines up. It’s been around 20 minutes after the exposure, are you sure you don’t feel anything else? Just nauseous?” “I really do-” A loud gurgle from Namjoon’s stomach cuts him off. “Oh! Oh god, I am so hungry.” A sudden rush of hunger overtakes Namjoon. “Good, good. That’s typical.” Dr. Kim smiles, reaching down to palpate Namjoon’s belly. His fingers pressed and prodded against the surprisingly soft flesh of his new tummy. “Yes. It seems to be coming long nicely.” Dr. Kim commented, giving Namjoon’s now plush belly a condescending pat, watching it barely wobble. “I-I’m sorry, Dr. Kim, but I don’t understand…” Namjoon whispered. “What’s happening to me?” “Let’s get an IV in you.” Dr. Kim ignored him. “The hunger indicates that your body is asking for nutrients.” “An IV? Can’t I just eat something?” Okay, so he wasn’t going to be getting much information out of the director. Namjoon understood that their client’s serums were supposed to be the private equivalent of state secrets. Of course he wouldn’t be allowed to know what they did… That was what’s happening, right? Dr. Kim began prepping an IV line, pulling out a bag of clear liquid. “Nil per os. Nothing by mouth, young man. Solid food could choke you if you ate too fast. We can’t compromise the process.” Process... Namjoon gulped, half out of nerves, half to swallow down the saliva produced from thinking about food.
“Y-you said no solid food, right? So, something like a protein shake or- or mashed potatoes would be okay then?” Dr. Kim paused, a thoughtful look forming on his face. “I can try it.” He assented, starting to put away the IV. “I’ll have to hook you up with a feeding tube, though. You wont be able to talk.” Any panic Namjoon felt at the thought of being muted for who knows how long they’ll have him hooked up, was washed away by another painful wave of hunger. “Ngh! I don’t care, Doctor! I just need it in me! Please I’m so hungry!” An intense, but unreadable expression appeared on Dr. Kim’s face. “Again.” Namjoon whined, “What?” “Ask me again.” “I’m hungry, Doctor. P-please give me the tube…” Namjoon teared up. The pain was getting worse. Dr. Kim harshly pinched a perky, hardened nipple, eliciting a cut off moan. “You will refer to me as, Sir. Understand?” Namjoon could taste bile in the back of his throat, but he was desperate at this point. “Sir! Please, I need the tube! I’m starving!” Dr. Kim chuckled mockingly, “Starving? With all of this hanging off of you?” He slapped Namjoon’s plush tummy. “Sure, I’ll play along. Here, open wide and don’t choke. We’ll try this without anesthesia first. I don’t want to add another variable to the experiment.” Namjoon’s mouth opened wide, eager to be filled up. The tube slid down impossibly easy, as if Namjoon’s gag reflex had been turned off for the day. The vague feeling of the rubber hitting his stomach was uncomfortable, but the younger man didn’t choke. Dr. Kim moved over to the other side of the actually quite large room. What Namjoon had originally thought was an exit turned out to be double doors to a large walk in refrigerator. Bags of clear fluid, blood, and plasma hung in organized rows. Dr. Kim ignored those however, instead reaching into a plastic bin. The doctor shuffled back over, a massive vacuum sealed bag of beigeish paste craddled in both arms. The thing was huge; four, maybe five liters of the stuff sloshed thickly with every step. Plopping it down on a metal table with a huff, Dr. Kim shook out his arms. “Oh, I have got to get a cart with wheels.” Namjoon absently tongued the bottom of the cold, smooth tube. Dr. Kim pulled the bag closer to the large, metal machine stood behind Namjoon’s bed, out of sight. After what sounded like metal creaking and plastic tearing, Namjoon felt the tube vibrate lightly. Sadly, he couldn’t taste the paste being pumped into him, but Namjoon could definitely feel it settling in his stomach. Finally, Namjoon moaned, eyes rolling into the back of his head. Feels so good... Dr. Kim smiled as Namjoon’s belly began to bloat outwards, the younger man’s eyes barely open. “Enjoying yourself there, Joon-ah?” The nickname sounded belittling coming out of the doctor’s mouth. Namjoon just hummed, suckling needlessly at the rubber between his plump lips.
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It’s been a while since I’ve worked on this interactive story, and I’m not even sure if anyone would be interested in it at this point ^_^;
I still desperately want to finish it some day, hopefully before BTS finishes their military service… It’s just hard to find kinky motivation when you’re incapable of feeling arousal in any sense of the word.
Let me know if anyone would even still be interested in reading this!
It will contain 4 routes, 15 branches and 30 endings with a hopeful update for a 5th route featuring JK in the future. I would honestly consider this my most intensive project to date.
Happy to get out this little preview at least!
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egipci · 5 months
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re: your flash-fic 'tutorial' (lol), I'm curious: what was "the sentence" that sparked your last few fics? (your choice)
do they normally survive until the final draft?
hello dear friend <3 so I would say a lot of the time "the sentence" ends up being the first or last sentence of a story, but sometimes it goes somewhere in the middle, especially in a longer piece, in which case I'm kinda stuck until I find another sentence to go first. A lot of the time for a flash I need both the first and the last sentence before I even start writing, so I have a general sense of the sound of the story. And I really try to make sure it survives, but it doesn't always happen, in which case it lives somewhere in my drafts until I write a new story for it (if I actually remember, but the good ones tend to stick around!)
So like, for "Vertigo," I'd already had the first sentence playing around in my mind for a long time, and I actually lifted it from a Mary POV fic I was working on (that sentence is sort of a madlib of a first sentence I really like from a Kathryn Davis short story-- which is a great way to come up with "sentences"). And then a final sentence came to me, which according to my gdoc history is
"But then you turned your head up to the sky, so I looked up, and it was huge and black, super-infinite."
I really really wanted the last word to be "super-infinite." I was very much in a John Donne mood (cf. fleas and mysterious bitey things in this story and in "Chorus"). I played around with all variations of "the sky was black and it was super-infinite," and "it was black and super-infinite," and "it was huge and black and super-infinite," "black, super-infinite" etc. for probably way too long. There was a weird discordant thing going on where I didn't necessarily want to write this story in first person, but that last line demanded it. And then by the time I'd finished the bulk of the story that line had to go, in part because of logical/practical concerns, e.g. how are they looking at each other if they sky is black? but also because it didn't sound right. First-person can very easily veer on excessively sentimental, and a fic context is doubly perilous because we know how the characters talk (not that 1st person fic has to sound like a monologue off the show or anything, but you know). And so it was cut, but having it as scaffolding was really helpful for me to figure out that I wanted that stargazing moment and the feeling of smallness that comes with that, which (hopefully) is more subtly translated in "to feel us so small again..."
For "Chorus" the "sentence" was also the first sentence, which had been floating around in a j/d draft since like, May 2022. It was initially "we hung from the rafters" (which now that I think about it could have worked, "We hang from the rafters and we watch," but I guess I liked the rhythm of those first four sentences more: "We watch from the rafters. It’s dusk. He’s in love. We send him home."
For "Miles Ahead" the sentence was that opening fragment and the last line as a unit. "What I was trying to tell you---" came first and I played around with it for a while until I got "is I’ll take you anywhere," and then all the stuff in the middle (the interruption/flashback) came in after. Needless to say, many many hours were spent agonizing over "I'll take you anywhere" vs. "I'd take you anywhere," but I liked the tense-trickery of the first one more.
For this (older) flash, the sentence was the (incredibly baroque lol) final phrase that had been on my mind for a while -- "quiet for little Sammy sleeping, then vigil for little Sammy gone"-- and the whole story is basically written to get to it.
In "Dubuque" (which started off as a flash) the sentence was the first sentence: "In the space of three hours that no-good son of a bitch Lee Webb had Dean swaying on his feet," but the reason the story ended up going further was this bit in the middle: "fingertips over strong muscle loving him and loving the weight of him. Loving his danger. His masculinity," which felt excessive to throw in in a flash.
But like, sometimes the sentence is not a sentence and just more of a story structure I want to play with. This story from earlier this year stalled for a couple of days after I nailed the opening until I remembered Jamaica Kincaid's "Girl," so that inspired the structure there. This birthday story has no stand-out "sentence," I just liked the rhythm of "Dad said and Dean said and Sam said," etc. (Though just now I'm noticing the sentence is basically the whole story!)
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mothask · 1 year
Text
Update
I’m going on a hiatus and I’m not sure for how long but I expect to be back during the end of January and the start of February.
That’s the short of it but if you’d like to understand what’s been up with me then please read ahead but if not, I hope you all have a wonderful new year.
Right before Christmas I think last Wednesday after drawing the right side of my brain and body went fuzzy, I thought I was about to have a stroke but turns out right after that I managed to somehow get vertigo.
 Due to a lot that’s been happening recently and the fact that I am a very giving person apparently, I’m going through a major burnout at the moment as well as trying to rest off the pains I get in my head when I lie down. 
What sucks the most is that I can’t bend my head down at a certain position for too long before I get dizzy again or god forbid another passing out scare, so I haven’t been able to draw.
I’ve been on the train to burnout for a while now and I hate that it came right during the holidays but in a weird sense I’m glad I got it now rather than when I go back to school at the end of january. 
I don’t know when I’ll start drawing again or continuing with the ask. I feel like I haven’t made it a long way but with the past shadow banning and the discouraging feeling that I feel like I’m going nowhere with my art and in my current life I guess this kind of thing was bound to happen at some point. 
The truth is since this last summer I had to start completely from scratch and if I hadn’t I’d be at 400 followers and that hurts.
But I’m mad because there’s so much more I wanted to tell and draw and sitting in bed without being able to draw is driving me insane.
But for the time being I wanted to let you all know what’s been up, this has been an issue of mine for a long time and it finally caught up to me. It’s insane that I look over the master list *In of which I haven’t updated* To see the sheer amount of content I’ve managed to pump out in the year that I’ve been making this au. I’ve made over 145 post and that was just an estimate I counted in august.
 Yet with things like the recent curse arc, and just my art in general it seems I’ve dropped the ball which is mainly due to college and other factors but being the person that I am I feel disappointed in myself.
As of this last year I’ve had more than 2 scares with my health and I race to pump as much out as I can and to move up in my life as quickly as I can before it’s all over.
But I guess you can only do that for so long until your body says enough.
So thank you all for keeping up with me, and I promise once things get back to normal and I actually know what I got ill with I’m sure I’ll be back to things. 
I hope you all have a happy new year I can’t wait to see what comes next but for now I’m going to sleep.
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the-fluffiest-trainer · 3 months
Note
Pelipper mail! A nightmare.
You are laying in bed, in your cottage in Ponyville. You feel rested, but the sun has not yet been raised. Is it late? It doesn't matter, your animals still need you regardless, so you get out of bed and go downstairs. Through the window you see the horizon brighten, and then the sun stumbles up, drunkenly, zigzagging across the sky in leaps and jerks, eventually coming to rest near where it would be expected for the day.
You tend to the family of mice in your walls, check up on the bird with one wing in a sling, make Angel his elaborate breakfast, and then step outside and head towards town. Twilight will know what that was.
You hear the beating of wings overhead and look up, expecting Rainbow Dash flying down for a visit. Instead, a purple streak zips through the sky too fast to comprehend, smashing through a small tree and then disappearing around the corner of a house. You follow, and see Twilight trot out of the alleyway, her mane disheveled. You ask her what's going on, and she says nothing unusual, she didn't see what you saw. That wasn't her, she can't possibly fly that fast. Maybe Princess Celestia has a hangover, she jokes, but her smile is fake.
Twilight offers to pick up the fallen treetop. Just to carry it a dozen steps and drop it at the edge of the woods, with unicorn telekinesis. Pinkish magic wraps around the trunk, and it instantly, violently combusts. Fragments and embers spray out in the direction of the forest, but disappear into nothing but ash before even reaching the ground. You ask Twilight what went wrong, and she says nothing. She just decided to clean up more thoroughly, that's all.
She's hiding something from you. The Twilight standing next to you is wrong somehow, and she won't acknowledge it. She trots off with a word about running her morning errands, and you hurry to follow, but cannot think of the words you want to say. She barely even looks at you. What is she so worried about? Why does she keep glancing out toward Canterlot as if to make sure it's still there?
You trip, and everything goes black as your head spins with sudden vertigo. When you open your eyes, you are floating in the air inside a bubble, looking out at a barren landscape of pure devastation. You turn your head, and just for an instant you see something -- an orb of rainbow fire, suspended between two horns -- and then everything is black again, and spinning, and the wind rushes past in all directions as you tumble blindly into the unknown.
Oh... oh Celestia, I...
It's just a dream. It has to be, but... it felt so real, more like remembering than dreaming. But--
Oh, hello there! You're an interesting looking bird. Sorry if I disturbed you, I just -- oh. I guess they didn't want to stick around. Goodbye, then.
I need to catch up to Twilight, and her new research group in this world. She's researching Fallers, she'll know what's going on and how to help.
...No, brain, it's fine. There's nothing wrong with Twilight, she's my friend and she's fallen into the same weird world that I have. She's my friend. I trust her. Just because I had a dream about her acting weird, that doesn't mean anything is wrong. I'm just... nervous, I guess.
That's all. Just nervous because there are new people to meet. But they're Twilight's friends, so I'm sure we'll get along just fine. Deep breaths, Fluttershy. I can do this.
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envihellbender · 1 year
Note
TMA au: Hux is a long suffering archivist, Ben is a researcher who throws himself into danger willingly and with reckless abandon
Fandom: Star Wars, The Magnus Archives AU
Characters: Ben Solo, Hux (Kylux), Mary Keay
Content: Horror, supernatural
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[There is a click indicating a tape recorder turning on and a slight whirring sound.]
Hux: This is the statement of Benjamin Organa-Solo, researcher of the Magnus Institute. Recording by the Head Archivist of the Magnus institute- [There is a pause and a clearing of his throat.] Armitage Hux. Statement begins.
Ben: I don’t know why you insist on saying your birth name when you hate it so much.
Hux: This is an official record, Ben. Now, tell me what happened.
Ben: Is all this necessary? Can’t we wait until we get back to the Archive tomorrow?
Hux: We have to do it now, Ben. Whilst it’s fresh in our minds. Plus, I want to know what possessed to you run head long into danger like- [Hux takes a deep breath before pausing for a moment.] Just… Humour me. Tell me what happened. Please.
Ben: Fine. I guess you did help me clean and sew me back up. Okay, so, this morning… I. [Ben takes a deep breath and swallows.] This morning. I told you about that bookshop on the way to the Archive, right? It’s always got this weird vibe, it’s always empty, and it’s only open for like three hours in the morning. I know you said to leave it alone, wait to see if there’s any reason to investigate but… [Ben sighs.] Look, something was up and I didn’t want to wait for someone to come in hurt or worse to do something about it.
Hux: And now you’re lucky your not dead.
Ben: Do you normally interrupt people when they’re giving a statement?
Hux: I- no-
Ben: Plus you’re being really judgemental right now.
Hux: You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m just worried, please continue.
Ben: Anyway, I was on my way to work this morning and I had a look in the window. Now, the weird thing about this place is the books they have on display. They never have any words on the covers, no pictures, nothing. They’re just all bound in old leather. Like- well- you know…
Hux: A Leitner.
Ben: Bingo. And this time it… Do you remember that statement, I don’t remember which. You know me I’m shit with numbers and names. But it was the one of the Mary Keay ones. And the guy, there was the images in the book with the cliffs and the tower? Well, in the window, in the usual display one of the books was open. It was on a display thing propped open, with the wood carvings that guy described. The cliffs. The tower. It was all there. And I felt the same feeling of vertigo. I thought I was gonna throw up as I stood on the pavement staring at that book- [Ben sighed and clicked his tongue.] Hux. You’re doing it again.
Hux: What?
Ben: You’re being judgemental.
Hux: I didn’t say anything!
Ben: You didn’t have to.
Hux: I just wish you came to me first.
Ben: Look, can I finish the story?
Hux: I’m sorry. Continue.
Ben: So, anyway, I had to go in. I know, I know, you think going in alone was stupid but… Look, I know about your whole deal with Juergen Leitner and I didn’t want- ugh. I just didn’t want to worry you. [Hux gave a badly disguised snort of derision, trying to pass it off as a cough.] This place. It’s called Quay Books. That’s weird, right? Quay. Keay. You know? Anyway. So I walk in, and it’s only open 8.30am to 11.30am. It was nearly 10, if I waited until my lunch break or went to the archive to- I just think I’d have missed my chance.
Hux: That might not have been a bad thing.
Ben: You’re not normally this chatty during statements.
Hux: I apologise. Continue.
Ben: I went in, and as soon as I did I could feel the dust in the back of my throat. It smelt damp and like no one had been in there for a long time. There was a counter and a till that was covered in a thick layer of grime and filth. There was no one there and it didn’t look like there had been for a while which is weird because… Like, every time I passed in the morning, the sign said open, on my way home it said closed. So, someone was moving the sign. Anyway, I took advantage of the fact it was empty and went to the window display. When I tried to take the open book however, the pages had changed. Fuck- [It goes quiet for a moment.]
Hux: Ben? Are you okay?
Ben: I feel… dizzy. Like I’m going to be sick. I- I’m fine. Anyway, I went to- I closed it. I definitely saw the cliffs and the tower before I did. But. The cover was blank. Which was weird, because I was sure the one from the statement had a name. The first page definitely had the familiar ‘From the Library of Jurgen Leitner’ stamp though, so that confirmed what I already knew about this place. So, I flicked right through and… It was. Look, instead of the cliffs and tower there were waves and a ship. And I felt like… Like my feet were unstable and the wooden floor had become the deck of a boat. And that was when- that was when there was a voice. From behind me. It just came out like a hiss. It was a woman. And she just said put it down. I protectively wrapped my right arm around it and I have no idea why. I don’t- I’m glad I don’t have it but in that moment I would have fucking jumped off a cliff if it meant I didn’t have to let it go. That’s normal for a Leitner, right?
Hux: From what I know, yes.
Ben: Anyway, this woman, I guess she looked like Mary Keay. I don’t know. She was a skeletal old woman with a shaved head and words on her scalp in what could have been Sanskrit. That was how that guy described Mary Keay, right? Except… I don’t know. It could’ve been anyone. I think she was a lot taller than her, you know? Anyway, I went to question her. Well, not even question her. I hadn’t got that far. I was just about to speak and she let out this screech. It was this high pitched, howling noise that sent a chill through my body like you get from hearing nails on a chalkboard. She pounced on me. Her long sharp nails scratching at my neck, cutting me open and pushing beneath my skin. I panicked. And- and I threw the book away across the room. I guess it was on instinct. I don’t know. She chased after it on all fours like a cat. And I ran out of there. I know I shouldn’t have. And I know I should have come to work. And I know I should have called and not just ran home. But… I … Panicked. So, that’s it. Statement ends, I guess.
Hux: I’m glad you did. Who knows what could’ve happened if you’d have fought her. Well, this is… a relief.
Ben: What? How? I didn’t get the book or any information.
Hux: You survived. You got away only needing a few stitches. And I’m happy you’re okay.
Ben: I can take you there. Or. Not you but. I can show you and…
Hux: I don’t think that’s possible.
Ben: What do you mean?
Hux: The… the shop you’re describing. It’s not there.
Ben: What? What do you mean?
Hux: This is the place you mentioned the other day, right? You said it was between the Oxfam shop and the coffee place?
Ben: Yeah. That’s it.
Hux: There’s nothing there.
Ben: You… No you must be thinking of-
Hux: There’s a sign saying “Quay Books”. But it’s empty. It has been every time I’ve gone past.
Ben: Well. That’s… Thats fucking weird. Jesus. So you don’t believe me then?
Hux: I didn’t say that. Maybe you should work from home for a while until we get to the bottom of this. Maybe we both should. I could even work out some security.
Ben: Wait, so you do believe me?
Hux: Of course I do. And. I don’t take any chances when it comes to a Leitner. End of recording.
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soda-boots · 6 months
Text
Moths surround me, thought they'd drown me
This is a slightly concerning and definitely incomplete recount of yesterday (the 20th).
So post Passages, I have breakfast yada yada yada. Meet this girl named Antonia (we have breakfast and then dinner together actually with her friends Jessie and Islay). I go on the stand for xpression for a few hours and then go on the cinema crawl with the other committee. Meet some interesting people on there actually (most notably Lachlan). However before that I go to Rituals to see where Mo works and end up buying a 37 quid umbrella. Its a gorgeous umbrella and it better hold up. I rush back to my flat for my meeting with Jason and I think it goes quite well. I have dinner after and come back to my flat. I finally have the fantastic idea to go to the club... alone. I've never done it before and it's something I've always wanted to give a go. It's not like Jack and Haleemah are turning up at the club anytime soon and no one has ever invited me to join their group before (as far as I recall). I do try my best to be adventurous and this just me exercising that. I promenade to the shop to buy 2 bottles of cider and a can of pimm's. Downing one bottle and the can, while listening to Songs for You, I'm trying to hype myself up for this event.
I try inviting Lachlan to the club, but he can't make it (fair enough). Good even, this is a private event for me. The night starts to blur a little from here (but I can still remember pretty much all of it). I speak to Ellis about coffee or something and how coffee/alcohol makes me sleepy. An hour and a half before vaults opens to help the timeline. This is 7:27pm now.I talk about violet from Charlie and the chocolate factory I think at around 8
Going through messages to recount events is so funny lol. I listen to 'dem boy paigon' to hype myself up' and I believe I leave my flat say 8:40 pm -ish. I'm baskily power walking through these streets, no headphones on (I considered not even bringing my phone to stay fully immersed but I disregarded that whole ideology).
I walk by a bunch of people also going to town. These group of friends all walking and laughing together. At the time, I was so unphased by the juxtaposition of me alone and them in a bevy. It didn't matter, I was determined to have fun. {here begins ramblings from my notes app about how I'm feeling, what I'm hearing and seeing and comments from me}
‘We’re walking at gay speed “
This was so funny and initiated the whole idea
I wonder if it’s actually this cold or the alcohol has warmed up my body in some way 
It didn't feel as cold at first, but then again I was definitely tipsy, if not flat out drunk at this point. I felt quite warm in my chest actually
Speed feels a bit weird. I’m kind of dizzy, like in an odd state of vertigo . I should have worn my glasses because I why is verything a little bit more blurry 
I actually forgot that I felt like this. Time seemed to be moving very quickly at first. Like I was just racing through the streets. Everything had a slight blur filter on it and I was a bit dizzy. It was a strange feeling to be concurrently aware and so distinctly detached in this way.
I walk down the street towards the vaults and why do I start to sing 'mystery of love in my head'
Bounded by the time I cried ! I built your walls around me . White noise what an awful sound. Fluttering by rouge rivers. Feel my feet upon your the ground . Shall I find no other. oh woe is me 
For context, I'm struggling to type accurately (I know I'm sobering up when I can do it better again later in the night)
The walk felt like nothing 
It did feel strangely quick.
It’s closed (the vaults) . That’s so sad (one that it is closed and two that I got here while it was closed ) 
Of course in my eagerness, I get to the club while it's closed and now what do I do ? Go to another club (I'm determined !!!)
I just met Edward and his mum from film soc. I wonder how the interaction was from their end.
I stumbled back when I stop to speak to them. Edward is so nice and his mum seemed lovely. As I mentioned I wonder how that interaction was from their end. His mum had a strange but friendly expression on her face (she goes back to Belgium today).
Moving on, I see Rhys at some point (and I think it was around here. I also see Mo at some time while I’m on the cobbled streets near vaults but that’s earlier than this I think ). I trudge to Zinc and it's closed for a social !
I went to zinc and they were having a Taylor Swift Soc event. They’re playing all to well (10 minute version) that’s so cute . I think it’s Taylor Swift society . I don’t think it’s Taylor society because they started playing paint the town red by Doja cat 
I'm out of it at this point. The see-sawing between whether it is Taylor swift society or not. I was a bit upset that I couldn't go to Zinc (but I just walked towards fever) because they were playing music I liked. I love how looking back I kept asking the bouncers, how I could buy a ticket and they so nicely and attentively answered me. I must have so clearly looked clueless. I couldn't get into fever too till about 10 and I just left .
Timeline update - 9:27
I tell Ellis I might go home. He suggests I go to a pub, and so I do
Don’t dwell on your feelings too much if not you will cry !
I'm quite emotional it seems.
Have you ever had a krispy kreme? Was it crispy (context - I saw a Krispy Kreme van ) 
I'm walking back to vaults here and I can't find it again, but notice bar named Pixy's. I read the board and walk by some guy who acknowledges me and I walk past. I get a bit lost and then walk back to Pixy's. I go in and the guy from earlier kind of jogs and he's the bartender. How hipster of him lol. I have no idea what I want and say that to him. He asks what I don't like, I say lemon because I don't really know (in actuality, I do enjoy lemon flavoured things). He makes this drink with watermelon and thyme vodka, lime cordial and apple Frobisher, and it tastes so good ! He says if I don't like it I don't have to pay for it (ok sales man). I did pay for it. I probably would have lied and said I liked it regardless of how I actually felt. He put in all that effort to try and impress me (ehhh did he?)
I went to a bar called Pixy’s and I got this thing made with watermelon and thyme vodka and then like cordial and a apple and something Frobisher 
I sit and have my drink and every move I make has so much more weight to it.
Every movement feels exaggerated . Like with each sway, the strength grows more and more 
I’m definitely less coherent than I think I am 
Oh I’ve tried vodka now ( kind of)
There's a group of ladies having a great time in front of me. Once again the juxtaposition of them in their gaggle (but oddly I don't think about that at the time). I actually look back now thinking oh I actually had a fun time. I leave Pixy's and pass a bar called 'The Mermaid'. Just like with Pixy's I circle back to it very soon after and go in. I hoped I didn't fall down the stairs down into it. I go in and the art is very 'art nouveau' and the decor so heavily influenced by Art Deco. It was a shame there wasn't any have music playing. The walls were dark green. There were some geometric features within it.
I go to the bar and the man hands me their menu. Scanning it I notice a negroni and other things I recognise some other drinks. However, I loved the names of their mock tails more so I order one.
I went to a bar called the mermaid and ordered the rejuvenation. It has tomato and pineapple juice . Such a weird tasting drink. So tangy. The taste of tomato is highly present. Very acidic 
While he makes my drink, drink I have a chat with the bartenders. They ask why I'm out and I'm like I've never been to a club and none of my friends have really been interested so I'm doing it myself. The lady bartender seemed quite proud of me. the guy making the drink mentions it's a weird one unless you like tomato juice. I get my drink and sit in the corner and sip on my strange drink. It tasted nice as far as I can recall. I sit down and I'm texting people, Max (I see his new haircut) and Ellis (who is baking a bread). I might have texted Haleemah too. I hear a cuckoo clock ...
The cuckoo clockification of my mind 
There’s a really large plant here at the mermaid. I’m texting haleemah, max and Ellis. I texted Louise earlier 
The bartender compliments my jumper when I leave. The irony of me going to a bars named pixy and mermaid when I do a fantasy creature show isn't lost on me. I finally get into the vaults and of course I am one of two people there. Addendum: I text Louise before I leave my flat, while I'm pre-ing and when I first get to the vaults and it's closed
Help why did the dj at vaults start playing started at the bottom at vaults . The dj started playing burna boy 
Did I really offer the money back to the vaults workers after they forgot lol. The other guy in here (Andy) introduced himself 
I’m trying so hard to manufacture this fun night and I’m failing a bit miserably. The workers are in beanies and that’s really cute. I feel very uncomfortable when Andy comes around me 
They weren't wearing beanies, it was bucket hats. Andy is rather odd. He is quite tall and imposing and dwarves me, it doesn't help how close he keeps coming towards me. He seems to be having a lovely time on his own though. In a way maybe I should be more like him and let go. He's also here alone (like I am) but I would hope I don't come off that odd (now I have the implicit fear that I do). I leave and go off to the cathedral.
I’m at Exeter cathedral now. Why do I rely on religion so luck for some form of wholeness ?
It's that catholic school and religious family conditioning. I listen to 'goldwing' by Billie Eilish and walk around the cathedral; Examining the sculptures on the facade. I recite the Lord's Prayer and a Hail Mary (which I had to look up because I never formally learned it). I read the quotes/etchings on the floor around the cathedral and in a weird way they bring me comfort.
"Oh God give me of thy fullness
Thy surrounding and
thy peace"
It's attributed to traditional Celtic. I also view the monuments around and try to open some doors. It's 11 now. I know this because the church bells ring ( I never knew we had a church bells and it rang !)
I never knew Exeter had a church bell. That’s adorable and quite gothic.
Oh wow not Francis not noticing me . Uhh my god 
Francis is my old flatmate for context. I basically had to chase him to talk to him. I also noticed Jack B from the radio
Why does everyone wear such dark clothing at night. 
Contrasting my bright yellow jumper
Such a long queue at fever. It’s actually a bit cute how long it is 
I think it’s quite cute how long it is, it might be time to call it a night. I’m so over this whole thing 
I love how u still hold the vindication against America. In actually I did try and I did not enjoy. I did not like the whole night thing: I’m not saying I won’t reattempt but for a while. The club may just not be for me .
Of course I heard an American accent and got war flashbacks.
I leave fever and go back to vaults (for clarification this is the second time I will be inside ) and got to go right in since I got branded (stamped) with a pass.
Oh there are more people at the vaults now. 
Andy just keeps saying the most random things to me. “ I ain’t fucking racist “ the bartender even asked if I was ok . Andy if you need to start your sentence that way you’ve already missed it  He seems a bit nice.  I might be  sobering up because  I’m sobering up and feel more coherent (also I’m typing a lot better)  .
Why do I struggle so hard to villainise people? The bartender gestures towards me asking if I'm alright (nice of him I guess). I leave Vaults again. I leave vaults to join the queue at fever under the thought process that the line there will be more lively than this dead club.
People are so nice and caring here. Someone asked me if I was alright .
This occurs on the street for clarification.
I join the queue for fever and eventually end up talking to the people infront of me. They tell me I look 19/20. I literally turned 18 3 months ago. Can I just go a night without being ferociously humbled ??? Can I ? They were lovely however. Even offering to pay for my entry since I had no cash. I left soon after that
In a weird way it was contemplative. I’ve reached the point where I’m detaching my feelings and externalising them. I truly abhor  drunken patter.
I want to listen to seether by veruca salt .
Can’t fight the seether. I can see her till I’m foaming at the mouth.
For the final time I am back at vaults and it's finally lively.
I left fever and now I’m back the vaults . There a lot more people here and I still feel a bit more out of place: maybe it’s the music . The heart palpitation induced by this bass is simultaneously awful and glorious . They literally recognised me at the door. A guy literally said I was the second customer . I’m a bit sick from that lol . This haze / smoke smells so odd 
I know every song this dj is playing. He’s so cheesy . 
There was a weird amount of older people there and it was a bit odd. Not be ageist or anything (my ageism is showing). I tell a guy happy birthday because he's wearing a party hat and dance a little with this group of first years
And I actually began to enjoy myself it felt nice and fun . I kept locking eyes with people which was slightly disconcerting by oh well. The haze started to pick on and the lights flashed more aggressively and with party in the USA blaring in the back I finally left for home at 1:30-sh my first time clubbing was not bad at all. While I wish it was smoother. beggars can’t choose.
BBQ SOCIETY !!!
I hear someone scream that from firehouse while I walk back home. I love how it is still lively.
I think u try so hard to be interesting and fun and worthy of affection. A lot of the time I don’t notice but I think I might just be too insecure to truly be my own person in a way that I’m happy with. Sure I get glimpses of that every now and again but ok the whole I don’t think I'm that confident enough to to truly exude it . To actually go out and be
The come down lol. I think I'm saying here that I try to do all these things to make myself feel interesting and fun so I can come across that way to other people. I have the fear that I'm just so uninteresting.
Met Chris , Connor and will at the bottom of block d. They were so nice and fun. I'm going to go off to bed
We had a little conversation and my night ended like that.Chris, Connor and Will (and one more other person actually but he went of earlier ) are guys that live in the first floor of my building that I met when I got home. They seemed like fun, nice guys. Chris had a rather sad speech about him justifying racism he had received when he was younger (he’s from Singapore). I don’t think racism should ever be rationalised. For context, it was a child being racist to him (so he definitely picked that up around) which is so disheartening. Even thinking about it now (about 12 hours later makes me feel ill) .
I will fix any grammar errors later but that's it really
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robingurlscorner · 1 year
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Batman With Twins - Vertigo
Note: This story contains an OC that I made when I was 10/11. Her name is Girl Wonder/Sarah Grayson. She's Dick's twin sister.
Universe: The Batman (wb)
He wasn't usually one to feel motion sickness, living in a circus and being an acrobat one really didn't have time for that. But now he was feeling it - badly. He wavered on the bat rope as he tried to climb up with his mentor, the world started to turn.
Behind him Batman noticed and quickly eased the teen off the side of the building onto one of the balconies. "Chum, are you ok?" He lifted the boy's chin to look at his eyes, the two blue eyes were unfocased. "What's wrong?"
"..D-Dizzy. ..F-Feel sick." Came the dazed response.
"Batman…" The other twin's voice came in on the communicator.
He quickly picked it up, "Go on Sarah, what's wrong?"
"…s-something weird is going on up here…everyone is…i-is…I feel sick…" He heard her cough and throw up. Batman blinked looking down at the male twin, as he did his vision started to blur. What was going on?
Batman shook his head as he tried to regain composure. "Come on, Robin, stand up, lean on me."
"S-Sarah, is she…?" He sagged reaching out to hang onto Batman's side, legs shaking. Batman held the teen up right before he eased him onto his back.
"Your sister is experiencing the same thing you are…I'm starting to feel it too, which means it's not because she's ill. Something is going on here." He shoots out the batrope again. "Close your eyes, chum. We're going up."
*~*
Sarah tried to pick herself up off the floor, she had to. "S-Stay calm everyone…" Her legs felt like lead as she got up right teetering.
The door to the penthouse opened and a strange man walked out with an eye piece over one of his eyes. "My my, I have only met one other person who could stand up against my vertigo, you are a strong one."
She held out her baterang, her body shaking. Her stomach was doing flips she felt sick. "S-Stay away from them. W-What do you want?"
"I've met your male counterpart before, the Boy Wonder isn't it? Let me guess, you are Girl Wonder?" He asked politely as he got closer she moaned putting a hand to her mouth. "Don't feel embarrassed dear, this is normal. You've done so well to stay up so long."
"I won't l-let you get a-away with a-anything." She threw her baterang and it richoceted off one of the windows clattering to the ground more than a few feet away from him.
"W-Who are you…?"
"I am Count Vertigo. Pleased to make your aquaintance." He said tipping his head slightly.
Sarah fell to her knees wrapping her arms around her stomach, tears starting to prick her eyes. She tried to pull out another baterang but could barely hold onto it.
"She's incompacited, go on and steal the jewels." He commanded. "She won't do a thing to us."
A batterang shot past him tearing a hole in one of the sacks that was carrying the jewerly. "Hey what the?"
The shadow of a bat appeared as he climbed up onto the terrace of the penthouse. "Count Vertigo, what are you doing in Gotham City?"
"I think a better question is why aren't you on the ground withering in pain?"
"Ear plugs, that level out the inner ear." He said easing Robin down next to his sister. He then stood back up to his full height glaring angerily. This glare was usually reservered for when the twins had been hurt. "This is between you and I, leave the kids alone."
"You surprise me, Batman, for someone so cold, you have such a warm heart for those two."
Batman glanced down watching as Robin moved closer hugging his sister, a pair of earplugs in his hands. He turned back around to face Count Vertigo, "I will ask you again, why are you in Gotham City?"
"I decided to take a vacation? What do you care?"
"You are stealing citizen's items, breaking and entering, on top of causing mass cases of Vertigo in Children, of course I care."
"S-Sarah are you ok?" Robin asked as he helped his sister sit up. She nodded silently not having the voice to talk quite yet, still feeling sick. "Easy, it'll be ok. Batman will take care of him. Here," He brushed her hair from her ears and gently pushed an ear plug in each one.
"W-What about you?" She finally asked, her voice shaking.
"He gave me some already."
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ahoonterisahoonter · 2 years
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Short story part 2 -- TW Depictions of suicide
One night, Jaime is standing on the deck late at night, their heaviest coat wrapped tight around them. Erato, shivering desperately, comes to stand next to them. They look over at him but say nothing. They had grown to a point of mutual understanding, and although they weren’t exactly friends, a bond was forming. This had turned into a nightly ritual, staring out into the cosmos. Staring up long enough, Jaime would always start to feel vertigo, as if gravity would suddenly reverse and dump them into an endless sea of stars. In a way, Lab Zeta felt the same, a yawning abyss waiting to consume them.
“What have you been listening to today?” They asked Erato.
 He smiled and showed her the iPod he always carried. The album cover was red with a blue border, and the names printed on it. It was either T/N/A/F by Simple Forms, or the other way around. Jaime didn’t know a lot of the indie bands Erato listened to, but so far they liked his taste in music. They would need to add that to their playlist when they could.
“We’re almost there, you know? I overheard some of the crew talking, we should be close to land tomorrow or the day after. As soon as we’re close, they’ll probably fly us immediately to the Lab. How you feeling ‘bout that?”
“I’m leavin’ on a jet plane, don’t know when I’ll be back again.”
“Yeah, I don’t know if we’re ever gonna be back. No part of this feels right. With as much as they’ve told us, there are still so many unknowns. I don’t even know if Amy is alive, let alone how to find her and get her out of the there. You know, I haven’t asked you who you’re going in there to save.”
“I’ve dreamt that a time like this would come fulfil my life. Who could of known the one who’d bring me here would be my lovely wife?”
“You’re married? Dang, I keep underestimating you.”
He shrugs. He’s clearly used to being thought of as slow or weird or dumb, so he’s built up a thick skin. Still, they know what it feels like to have people impose their own ideas onto you, and they refuse to participate. They make a mental note to alter how they think about Erato.
“Song boy, Bluey, great to see you two out here,” Sam calls out to them.
Jaime rolls their eyes. They were really hoping that Eric’s names wouldn’t stick, but it looks like they’re winning. Sam isn’t half as quiet or contemplative as Erato, but she’s still good company to have around. Her litany of references serves to distract Jaime from the despair that grips their legs like quicksand. She helps keep them from drowning.
“You’re not usually up this late, or out in the cold,” Jaime remarks.
Sam shivers. “Yeah, because it sucks out here. I was thinking about doing the Titanic thing, but it is way too cold, even during the day.”
“Then what brings you out here?”
“I can’t sleep. It’s rising.”
There’s no need to ask her what she’s talking about.
“Sometimes,” she continues, “I can hear the voice, even when I’m awake. Every time it’s Luke’s voice, or partially, and it always says the same thing. ‘Join us and fight.’ What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Who am I joining, and what am I fighting? I don’t think we need to wait to get to Zeta to go insane. I think I’m already off to an early start.”
“Goin’ off the rails on a crazy train,” Erato whispers to the night.
Jaime can’t move past something Sam said. “I’m sorry, what does the voice, Luke or not or whatever, say to you in your dreams?”
Sam looks disturbed at Jaime’s sudden interest, but repeats, “’join us and fight’ is all they say, over and over again. Why do you ask, I thought we were all having the same dream?”
Jaime shakes their head. “Apparently not. Other than the fact that we’re hearing different voices, which makes sense, I’m getting a different message. ‘All this could be yours.’”
Sam’s eyes grow wide. “So, these aren’t just terrifying visions, someone is actually trying to communicate with us? Song boy, what do they say to you?”
Without looking at them, Erato quietly recites, “sing it from the heart.”
“Well, that’s fucking ominous,” Eric enters the conversation through chattering teeth. “It’s one thing dealing with whatever nightmare thing is coming after us but knowing that it’s also an early 2000s emo is so much worse.”
With a roll of their eyes, Jaime shoots back, “can I presume that in your dreams the message is ‘go fuck yourself’?”
“I get plenty of that in my waking life.” A shiver passes through Eric that has nothing to do with the cold. His voice becomes serious as he says, “she, it, tells me to ‘embrace the truth’, whatever the fuck that means.”
“Ooh,” Sam shouts in excitement, causing everyone to jump. “What if we all have, like, roles or something? Like, I’m a knight, and Song Boy is a herald, and Jaime is our ki—, uh qu—, monarch.”
“Ah, and where does that leave Eric ‘embrace the truth’ Ramirez?”
“Maybe a scholar, or something, I’m not sure, it’s just a theory.”
“Honey, if you knew me you would know I’m the farthest thing from a scholar.”
Jaime cuts in before their banter can run wild. “Sam, you seem pretty excited about this theory. What do you think it means?”
“Well, it’s just like, there’s something trying to talk to us, right? And it clearly wants us to listen to us, which is why it’s using the voices of our loved ones, but it can’t get it quite right, y’know melting our organs and stuff. So maybe, I’m thinking, like, it’s tryna recruit us for something. What if it’s building an army to try and conquer the world? Ooh, or maybe it’s trapped and needs us to fulfil our roles to bring it back to the mortal plane? Or—”
“I get your point,” Jaime says, with as much patience as they can muster. “You really think this thing is trying to recruit us? And would any of you, well—”
Jaime doesn’t finish their sentence, but everyone understands. It’s something they had each privately considered many times since this journey began. When the time comes, if the time comes, where that invitation is extended to them in real life, would they take it? Should they?
As they silently ponder, Topper and Debra appear on deck. Debra is wrapped in at least three blankets, but Topper has nothing to protect himself from the cold, other than a fierce grimace.
“Good to see I’m not the only insomniac on this ride,” he says in greeting. He walks to the railing, next to Jaime and peers over the edge of the boat. “Sometimes I think I’d rather be thrown in this water to freeze to death, so I don’t have to face the blood sea again.”
“Don’t tempt me,” Eric says, “I’ve wanted to push you overboard since we got on here.”
“I’m not too worried that a twig like you would actually be able to throw me overboard. Guaranteed that’s not affected my sleep one iota.”
“You’re right. Also, I could never throw you over, or I wouldn’t get to look at your fantastic bod anymore.”
Topper laughs, deep and hearty. “It’s nice to be appreciated. Feel free to soak in as much as your eyes can handle.”
Sam, practically bursting with excitement, interjects, “we were just talking about our dreams. The, y’know, obviously, haha, you just brought it up, anyway, what does it say to you?”
Debra scowls, but Topper doesn’t seem bothered. “’Bring them.’ I’m guessing from the way you asked that question that you’re not hearing the same thing.”
She shakes her head enthusiastically. “Debra, what about you?”
Still scowling, she responds, “It says, ‘Just stop fighting.’ Don’t ask me what that means, I have no fucking clue.”
“I bet you’re used to saying that,” Eric quips. Debra shoots him a withering glare, causing him to put up his hands in surrender. “Sorry, sorry, I know that wasn’t my best work.”
Topper starts, “what does the voice tell—” before a loud horn echoes over the deck, followed by a flood of lights searing away the darkness. After their eyes adjust to sudden brilliance, the group sees that a large section of the deck has been cleared except a small cargo plane.
“Glad to see most of you are already up,” Agent’s voice booms through speakers scattered around the boat. “Everyone collect your gear; we’ll be leaving within the hour. Report to the plane when you’re ready.”
The phrase ‘collect your gear’ is somewhat facetious, as none of the team had been allowed to bring much more than the clothes on their backs and some small trinkets. Everything else they’d be taking with them is already on the plane. Still, they recognize that Agent is giving them a chance to steel themselves before they fly into the icy darkness. Without talking, the group returns to their quarters and picks up the few possessions they have. Then, again in silence, they return to the plane, where Agent is waiting.
“Good morning, team,” he greets them cheerfully.
“Did we really have to do this at 3 in the fucking morning?” Eric moans.
“As a matter of fact, yes. We’re tracking a storm heading this way, and if we don’t leave soon, we’ll have to wait for it to pass before we can fly in. Every second counts, so we can’t delay.”
“Awesome. Dodging a blizzard to get into murder lab, and the sun isn’t even up yet.”
“You’d better get used to that,” Agent announces. “It’s winter down here, and we’re far enough South that the sun is only visible for about four hours each day. Not that that’ll matter much, as you’ll be entirely underground for the duration of this mission. Now, as soon as Rachel arrives, we’ll get underway.”
As if on cue, Rachel, disheveled and clearly still bleary from interrupted sleep stumbles up the stairs.
“Ah, there she is. Now, it’s a bit of a long flight, so we should depart quickly. Although, if you do have any last questions for me, ask them now, as we won’t get another chance before the mission starts.”
“I just want to double check one last time that this is actually fucking real,” Eric asks.
“Yes, I can assure you this is real. Please, try to take it seriously. Anything else?”
Jaime raises their hand. “Can you level with us here, Agent? If you had to place bets, what are the odds we make it out of there?”
He frowns and considers the question. “At this point, you’re our best, and last, option. I’d give you higher odds than the last teams, but I’d still say less than 10%. If I were a bettin’ man.”
“Thanks for the candor.”
The group falls silent and cast their eyes to the deck or the stars, contemplating the ramifications of what Agent just said. In all likelihood, they are going to board that plane just to fly straight to their deaths, like a fly into the mouth of a ravenous predator. Still, they had come too far, and there wasn’t a chance any of them were going to back out now.
“One last question,” Jaime adds. “Please tell us your real name.”
Agent pauses, as if internally debating the question, then curtly replies, “Francois. Now, let’s get moving. Lab Zeta awaits.”
True to Francois’ word, although the flight takes several hours, there is no ability to asks questions, discussion what’s coming, or even communicate beyond simple hand gestures. The noise in the plane is deafening, and, as protection, they are each wearing noise-dampening earmuffs. This leads to the paradoxical effect of near-perfect silence, despite the violent vibrations reminding them constantly of the freezing air beating against their small craft.
Jaime hates the silence. They always have. As brutal as the world could be to them, and it was plenty brutal, that was no match to the torment they could inflict upon themselves when left to their own devices. For most of their life, this meant surrounding themselves with at least two types of media at all times, just to drown out the oppressive silence. If they were being honest with themselves, and they tried to never be, the worst thing that came during silence was hope. Sometimes, when they disconnected from everything, they began to feel good about themselves, began to think that things would improve for them. Things never did, and that glimmer of hope made the inevitable pain inflicted on them infinitely worse. So, it was better to avoid silence at all costs.
That isn’t an option here, as taking off the earmuffs would lead to splitting headaches and possibly to permanent ear damage. So, there they sit, dreading the things that this oddly calm and chaotic space will invite in, drawing furiously in an attempt to hold those things at bay. It doesn’t work, it never does, and so, as a beautiful and terrifying kaleidoscope of body horror take shapes on the page in front of them, they begin to drift back to drift back through time. A montage of the litany of vile and cruel insults hurled at them floats in a grotesque parade behind their eyelids. As always, like Santa closing out Thanksgiving, comes the slap.
That day, years in the making, with bouts of self-loathing and bursts of strength, support and detraction from those who could guess, was when they finally decided to tell their parents the truth. They had run through every possible reaction, steeled themselves against any rejection or hatred they could receive, or so they thought. With their parents sitting on a fading couch opposite them, they finally spoke the words that had weighted their heart for as long as they could remember. Even as they stumbled over the words, which seemed to clumsily tumble from their mouth, the pain eased, if just a fraction. If they were going to suffer regardless, they would do it living who they truly were. Their parents were silent as they spoke, waiting for them to awkwardly trail off with a “so, yeah,” before responding.
Dad was the first to speak. He was never great with emotions, and even without a thick beard covering half his face, it would be hard to tell what he was thinking or feeling. “Oh sweetie, we love you no matter—”
Before he could finish, Mom cut him off. “Why are you doing this? Have we really been such bad parents that you would debase yourself like this just to spite us?”
Both Jaime and Dad tried to protest, but she silenced them both with a gesture. She had always dominated the house like that. “I don’t want to hear your excuses, or your pathetic lies. This isn’t the daughter I raised. The daughter I raised would never be some debauched, genderless whore. You are a woman, you will date and marry a man, and that is final.”
“I’m not your servant, I’m your child, mom—”
“And that is precisely why you will listen to me. You’re confused, and frankly acting like a dumb bitch. Your father and I want to help you become a well-adjusted adult, but if you insist on trying to act like you’re not a woman, then we have no choice but to step in and put you back on the right path.”
“Honey, I think—” Dad started, but was waved away.
“Apologize, young lady, and I’ll forget you ever did this to us.”
“I didn’t do anything to you,” Jaime spat back. “This is who I am. And if you really think you have so much control over me, then it must be your fault.”
With her lips drawn to a tight line, Mom crossed the room in two strides and slapped Jaime, hard. The hit echoed around the small living room, which had become as quiet as the grave. With as hard as the hit had been, Jaime didn’t feel anything. Anything except the shame that burned their whole body. Shame, and a newfound hatred for this woman who had apparently never loved them, the true them, and had only loved some fictional version of them she’d invented in her mind. Without another word, Jaime sprinted for their room.
Later, they heard Dad and Mom yelling at each other, him defending them and her attacking them. After the fight, Dad came in and gave a truly stirring speech about his support and love. It meant a lot to know that they had him on their side, but it wasn’t enough to erase that slap. They didn’t think anything would be able to erase the pain of that memory. And here they were, nearly half a decade later, still hearing the echoes of it as clear as if they had just been hit. Tears threaten their eyes, but they managed to hold them back. They had a lot of practice holding back tears.
Erato passes them a paper. Through their blurry eyes, it takes them a second to recognize what they’re looking at, but as it finally comes into focus they recognize it as sheet music. The staffs are drawn so neatly that it looks more like it was printed than hand drawn on a shaky airplane. The notes are largely foreign to Jaime, who doesn’t know much about reading music beyond ‘FACE’ and ‘Every Good Boy Deserves Fudge’, but Erato also wrote in the lyrics. The song is familiar to Jaime, if a little rusty in the back of their memory. It’s an old Rise Against song called September’s Children, which they remember having something to do with a string of LGBT suicides, all within a month. They look over at Erato, raising an eyebrow in question. Erato, of course, can’t respond, but mimes flipping the paper over.
When they do, Jaime sees on the back is more of the song, but with the last line circled. It reads, ‘Proud I stand, of who I am, I plan to go on living.’ Looking back at Erato, they catch his sad, but empathetic smile. He clenches his fist and shakes in slightly, as if to say, ‘you’ve got this.’
Jaime can longer hold back the tears.
The final descent is by far the rockiest part of the flights, with lurches of several feet in every direction. This is met with several different reactions: Francois, Topper, and Erato seem stoic and unbothered; Rach and Debra turn white as ghosts; Eric and Sam put their hands and cheer, noiselessly, like they’re on a roller coaster; and Jaime is somewhere between the last two groups. Despite the tumultuous descent, the actual landing is fairly smooth. As the plane powers down and the persistent thrumming ceases an eerie calm settles. It belies the fact that not two hundred feet from where they are sitting is the entrance to a labyrinthine network of tunnels home to at least sixty brutal murder victims, and most likely more. Pulling their earmuffs off let’s the outside noises flood back into the group’s ears. Metal creaks as the engines cool, wind whips around the plane’s exterior, a howl that is surely indicative of the predicted storm’s approach, and the shallow breaths of the people fill the small, cold chamber.
Francois stands. “Ladies and gentlemen, et al.,” he adds, looking at Jaime, “the time has come. I’ll help you unload your equipment, then I’ll see you off. We won’t be able to return until the storm dies down, at least a few hours. After that, we’ll come pick you up as soon as you have the tags of everyone on the list. Until then, I’m afraid you’re on your own. There should be enough here to sustain you for a week, and you can last even longer if you can reach the lab’s stores. However, I recommend you don’t take your time. Find them as soon as you can and call us. Good luck.”
Eric, sitting behind him, flips Francois off, but says nothing. The others are similarly mute. Between the howling winds and cold seeping into the now inert plane, the reality of their situation is beginning to sink in. This is actually happening. It isn’t some fever dream. The moment passes, and everyone gets to their feet, grabs their designated crates, and steps out into the pitch-black snowstorm.
Lights on the vehicle’s exterior do little to break cut the darkness but serve more to create an eerie feeling of descending into a deep ocean. The group quickly traverses the distance between their landing and the lab’s entrance. When they arrive, Francois, Eric, Topper, and Sam peel back the heavy metal door. It’s entirely clear of snow, despite being surrounded by drifts, an intentional design choice by the engineers, who used the door as an additional heat sink for the lab’s computers.
No light emanates from the staircase ahead of them, and the lights behind them don’t reach this far. For a moment, they stare into the abyss, each no doubt imagining some horrors awaiting them at the bottom. The illusion is instantly shattered by Francois, who activates the flashlight mounted to an assault rifle and hands it to Topper. For the first time since any of them met him, Francois shows a genuine emotion: pity.
“Down you go,” he shouts to be heard over the storm. “I’ll close it behind you. It won’t lock, but I recommend you don’t try to make a run for it. There’s nothing for miles in any direction. Hypothermia is not a fun way to go.”
“One madhouse to another, huh?” Topper shouts back, before descending.
The others follow suit, with their cases in tow. Rachel is the final one to enter the doorway, followed by a firm thud as the door swings shut. They freeze at the sound, which seems closer to the knell of funeral bells than to simple door closing. In all likelihood, they were just sealed into their tomb. There’s nothing for it now but to push forward, down the stairs and into the intersection of the three hallways.
“I’m gonna say what we’re all thinking,” Eric breaks the silence. “Why is it so motherfucking cold in here? Isn’t there supposed to be heating or something?”
Topper snorts. “Look around you, numb nuts. The power’s off. That means no heat.”
Jaime feels a tap on their shoulder and spins in terror, only to find a slightly sheepish Erato. He points up the stairs and mutters, “it’s gettin’ hot in here.”
Jaime pauses to consider his words, then turns to the others once it finally clicks. “There’s power somewhere. The computer banks must be running if the door is melted.” Behind them, Erato nods.
“You should be grateful it’s so cold down here,” Rachel speaks up. “If it were warmer then this whole place would reek. Trust me, you don’t want to be trapped in an enclosed space with rotting corpses.”
“Right, I almost forgot about all the dead people,” Debra says wryly. “Thanks for that lovely reminder.”
“Well, if the power is on somewhere, maybe this will work.” Sam throws several of the switches on the wall, to no effect.
Topper points his light to the ceiling. “I don’t think power is the problem.”
They all look up to see the long fluorescent lights shattered.
“Okay, so someone went nuts and smashed all the lights. That’s…cool.” Eric’s voice is thin.
Jaime, now with a gun and lit flashlight of their own points to the floor. “Whoever did it had the presence of mind to sweep up the fallen shards.”
“Were the lights shattered in the videos?” Rachel asks.
Topper shakes his head. “I wasn’t paying attention. I just assumed the power was out, and that’s why it was dark. Shattered lights make way less sense.”
Eric shrugs, regaining some of his confidence. “Whatever. If the demon who lives here likes it dark, that’s his business. We should get moving.”
“Agreed,” Topper nods. “Our first step should be to find a safe room to store our equipment. Then we can start our search.”
“Okay, so are we gonna split up like every stupid group of teenagers in a horror movie, or what?” Sam pipes up.
“We’d cover more ground,” Debra offers.
Topper shakes his head. Without explicitly discussing it, he had seemed to step naturally into the role of leader. Perhaps it was his military background making him somewhat more of an expert in dangerous situations, or maybe it was the confidence he exuded, but they were all looking to him. “While we could definitely search faster, we’d be putting ourselves in way too much danger. No, we’re sticking together. At every point, we have at least two people facing forward, two facing back, and someone facing any intersecting rooms or hallways. Priority number one is to make sure nothing can sneak up on us. Now, everyone arm yourselves and let’s get moving. I know we got an early start today, but I want to search as much as we can today.”
“Aye aye, captain.” Eric mock saluted but complied with the instructions.
It wasn’t long before they found a suitable room to be their repository. They took the first hallway to their right, where the man dubbed ‘forkupine’ had laid face down in a pool of blood, untouched by any of the previous expeditions. Only, when they arrived at the point where he should be, there was just a puddle of frozen blood. After dropping off their equipment, that became mystery number one.
“This is a good sign,” Topper says over the murmurs of the others. “We know that he was still here at the end of the last expedition. That means someone is alive in here, or at least was recently enough to have moved the body after them.”
“Someone, or something,” Sam whispers breathlessly.
“Why would you say?” Debra practically hisses.
“Sorry, it’s just something dramatic I’ve always wanted to say. Plus, we don’t know what drove everyone down here to kill each other. So, there’s definitely a something, even if it wasn’t the one that moved forkupine.”
“Dammit, that was a human being, with an actual name. You can’t keep calling him that,” Debra shot back angrily.
“Look, if he didn’t want a funny nickname, he shouldn’t have died in such a funny way,” Eric steps in to defend Sam.
“Whoever he was, and whoever, or whatever, did this, is all beside the point at the moment. The important thing is that we aren’t alone down here, and we need to find the others ASAP.” Topper sharply eyes the others, daring them to continue the previous conversation. When he sees that they’ve all let it go, he says, “alright, good. Let’s get moving. Debra and I can take rearguard. Jaime and Rachel lead us. The rest of you check our corners.”
“What makes you think either of them have any clue where the fuck they’re going?” Debra protests.
“None of us know where we’re going,” he counters. “We can’t know where the survivors would be hiding, so any of us are as good a choice to lead as any other. As long as we all remember where we’ve been, we can find our way back. Any other complaints.”
Debra grumbles but says nothing. The group enters formation, according to Topper’s directions, and begin to slowly inch down the hallway. Doors are set a regular intervals, and they pause at each so Sam, Eric, and Erato can search them. It’s a quick process, as the rooms are small enough to be fully scanned in a single glance. Still, they take their time to search for anything that might lead them to where the survivors might be. There’s nothing useful. The rooms here, apparently offices, are in nearly pristine condition. Whatever went down here, it didn’t touch this section of the lab. As that fact becomes increasingly obvious, the group slowly grows more comfortable, enough to break the silence.
“I never asked you, Bluey, but what landed you in McCreepy’s?” Eric whispers.
“Oh, you know, I was having trouble sleeping, so I took a sleep aid,” they respond at a similar volume.
“That landed you in the hospital?” Rachel asks, incredulously.
“Well, I may have taken a bit more than the recommended dosage.”
“How many?” Rachel asks, concerned.
“About half a bottle.”
Rachel gasps quietly, while Eric just shakes his head. “Yeah, that’s a rookie mistake. If you were serious, you should have gone for the whole bottle. It takes a few swallows, but you can’t beat results.”
“Is that so? Well, considering you’re still here, I’d say you know fuck all about the right way to do it.”
Eric tsks. “I wasn’t really tryna take myself out. It was a slow spiral, call for help type of thing. If I wanted to go, I could do it first try, easy.”
“You’d think so,” Sam jumps in, a little louder than the others, “but most first suicide attempts fail. The vast majority of suicides come from people with previous attempts. I thought jumping off a bridge was surefire, but apparently the human body really doesn’t want to die. Unlike the human brain, which is a self-destructive little fucker.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Debra asks, horrified.
“What isn’t?” Eric laughs. “None of us would be here if we weren’t at least a little fucked up.”
“You can’t just talk about suicide like that. It’s a serious topic.”
Jaime scoffs. “I’m sorry you grew up in an era when you could say the n-word but not talk about mental health, but we’re from a different time.”
“What you’re doing is not talking about mental health, what you’re doing is making a bunch of sick fucking jokes,” she hisses through her teeth.
“I mean, I do have some pretty sick jokes about fucking, if you want to switch topics,” Eric counters.
Topper clears his throat. “Can we please pay attention? We have no idea what is down here with us, and I’ll be damned if I let it sneak up on us because you can’t stop needling Debra.”
Leaning back to whisper to Eric in an even lower tone, Jaime asks, “was needling Debra one of those fucking jokes you were talking about?”
Eric can’t help but laugh, although he contains it to a short burst.
“Are you seriously trying to bring everything in this place to come attack us?” Debra shoots at him.
“Oh right, the evil entity that literally invited us here certainly wasn’t aware of our presence before I just laughed.”
“To the left, to the left, everything you own on a box to the left?” Erato says out of nowhere.
They all freeze. Trying to puzzle out what he could have meant by that. Sam is the one that puts it together when she looks in the room into which he’s staring.
“This is where we left all our equipment,” she says in confusion. “How did we get back here?”
“That’s not possible,” Topper says to no one in particular. “We haven’t turned. We’ve been going in a straight line the whole time.”
“Maybe the corridor curves?” Rachel asks, hysteria creeping into her voice.
Topper runs his hand along the concrete walls for a few moments before shaking his head. “If they do curve, they definitely don’t curve quickly enough for us to have made a complete circle with how long we’ve been walking. Besides, we would have had to pass the stairs at some point if it actually were a circle.”
“Maybe we could try walking backwards and see where it takes us?” Jaime suggests.
Topper frowns but nods. “That may be our best bet. Keep your eyes peeled for anything familiar.” The statement seems ridiculous considering the endless gray expanse of concrete around them whose only feature is the lack of any distinctive features.
“How is that gonna help?” Rachel’s voice sounds like she’s about to fly into a full panic. Her breathing is rapid and shallow.
“Rachel, are you okay?” Jaime asks in concern to the woman who is now doubled over and hyperventilating.
“What the fuck is happening? What awful place is this?” Tears are streaming down her face.
“It’s just a twisty corridor,” Jaime tries to reassure her. “It’s weird, but it’s nothing to freak out about.”
Rachel drops to her knees. “They’re all dead, and we’re all dead.” Her voice has gone from panicked to eerily calm, like she’d just been drugged.
“What’s going on up there?” Topper asks over his shoulder, still refusing to leave any direction unwatched.
“She’s just struggling with the situation. It’s hard for all of us, just let her—” Jaime stops, a nagging feeling at the back of their skull. They look around at the others and sees little more than worry on their faces. None of them seem to be too bothered by this new development. Why would Rachel be the only one? Come to think of it, why was she the only one that was able to sleep well every night on the ship? And her reaction to their conversation earlier: she’d seemed shocked to learn that Jaime had tried to kill themself. They begin delicately, “Rachel, what color is the sea?”
The phrase seems to break Rachel out of her reverie. She wipes her tears and turns to Jaime. “Red, like blood.”
“Bluey, I don’t see what this has to do—” Eric begins, but Jaime waves at him to be silent. It stings slightly that the gesture is a mannerism they’d picked up from their mom, but there isn’t time for that now.
“And what message does the voice repeat?”
“What?” Rachel asks, confused. That response is enough to convince Jaime, but they need to be sure.
“In the dream, when the thing speaks to us, what does it say?”
Clearly blustering, Rachel responds, “it, uh, it says ‘stay away from here.’” Her voice wavers with uncertainty.
“Oh, fuck me,” Sam groans, entirely too loudly.
“I’m seriously lost back here,” Topper calls forward.
“Rachel has been lying to us,” Jaime says in a flat tone. They aren’t sure if they feel anger, pity, surprise, or nothing. They’ve never been good with understanding their emotions.
“What?” Rachel gasps, clearly somewhere between scared and feigning indignance.
“Sam? Care to explain?”
Eagerly, Sam elaborates. “The voice is inviting us. It’s bringing us here for a purpose. You hesitated when they asked you what it said because you clearly didn’t know that was part of the dream at all. And then, when they asked you again, you tried to come up with something plausible, but it was the exact opposite of our dreams. None of us has been chased away. You’re a lying bitch.”
Finally realizing that her ruse is up, Sam becomes angry. “So, what if I’m not fucking insane, like the rest of you? That should be a good thing, to have one person down here who isn’t a lunatic.”
“Normally, I’d agree with you,” Sam responds. “But, in this case, it’s the opposite of what we want. Each of us was invited here, which means that to some degree or other we’re not going to be in as much danger as those who weren’t. Like you.”
“How did you know about the sea?” Jaime asks. “That was the first question Agent asked each of us, and if you hadn’t answered correctly, you wouldn’t be here.”
“Her damn brother,” Debra spits out. “He was the dreamer, and you thought you were sparing him by taking his place.”
Rachel’s tone changes from angry to pitiable. “You don’t know my brother like I do. He couldn’t be sent here. I had to protect him. When I heard about his dreams, and that someone had come to talk to him, I followed up with Agent. I know the nurses there, so they were able to get me in contact.”
“You weren’t even in a facility?” Eric asks, incredulous.
“Why should that matt—” before she can finish the sentence, Rachel clutches the sides of her head and screams.
“What the fuck is happening back there?” Topper asks, clearly assuming that something in the hallway is causing this sudden breakdown.
“Poor Rachel is reaping what she sowed,” Eric responds.
Jaime drops down next to Rachel and gently rubs her back, trying to comfort her. It works surprisingly well, as Rachel stops screaming and drops her hands from her temples. A split second later, it becomes apparent that it wasn’t Jaime’s comforting touch that brought about the change. Something had become visible to Rachel that was out of sight for the others. She whispers a word in an unknown language, then jumps to her feet and runs into the dark hallway.
“Rachel, stop!” Jaime calls after her.
“Dammit!” Topper shouts at the back. “Eric, take her spot. We need to follow her and stop her but keep to the formation.”
Everyone moves swiftly, and off they go to chase after there teammate. Her steps echo loudly down the concrete tunnel, although each comes with diminished strength. Clearly, without a whole group in formation to slow her down, Rachel is sprinting headlong into unknown territory. Her flashlight, and attached weapon, sit idly at the spot from which she ran, meaning that there is nothing but darkness ahead of her. Too soon for the steps have to become completely inaudible, they stop suddenly. With renewed urgency, Jaime and Eric push the pace, threatening to break apart the formation, much to the chagrin of Topper.
The combined light beams of Jaime and Eric pick out a shape on the floor ahead. As they draw nearer, it comes into detail, although it takes a moment for their brains to combine those disparate details into a cohesive picture.
Rachel is laying flat on her back, blank eyes staring up at the plain ceiling. Each of her forearms are slashed open with three cuts on each arm. Blood is still slowly leaking out of the wounds, but the copious amount beneath her makes it clear that it’s too late. Above her head, written in the blood is the word ‘Intruder.’ Additionally, Rachel’s coat, jacket, and shirt had been ripped open to reveal her bare chest, into which had been etched a complex glyph. From the relative bloodlessness of the wounds, this shape must have been engraved in her flesh posthumously. The horror from the tableau is matched only by the horror of the questions it raises. Who or what did this? And how had it managed to do all of this so quickly? Should she have really been able to bleed out so quickly? They’d only just seen her, no more than a minute before they came across the body.
“Can I be the first to say, fuck everything that is happening here.” Eric can’t help but say.
Silently, Erato points at the glyph in her chest. He clearly can’t find the lyrics for this particular moment, but there is something about the symbol that he desperately needs them all to notice. At his insistence, Jaime stares directly at the wound, which to this point that had been doing their best not to examine. As they stare, light begins to emanate from the cuts, until the horrible wound is a bright constellation, burning itself into their mind. There’s a message there, a message that, try as they might, Jaime can’t uncover. But the longer they stare, the brighter the symbol glows, and more the hallway around them melts away. Soon, they become aware of the fact that they are being pulled into the wound, which has now opened into a gaping hole. Instead of viscera, the peeled back flesh reveals a realm of blindingly brilliant light, although the original glyph shines brighter yet.
Eventually, their vision goes completely white, except for the glyph that still manages to shine brightly even against the shining while light surrounding them. Their mind goes blank, and they shift out of the conscious world.
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ladycomeinbed · 2 years
Text
frenzy week of that ridiculously wintery march of 2022
Nerden başlasam bilmiyorum.
I feel like I have so much going on in my mind and in my heart that it has me freezing. It feels like I’m feeling too much and nothing at the same time. This I think is the first time in my life that I’m strongly defending my fronts. It’s crazy how we learn to walk away when the mind is collapsing.
The last month got me with some insomnia at first. This was a week after I met J. He had just asked me to go on a date on the day that I decided to walk away from the misery. When one is not truthful enough, one cannot expect to get any love. Their love turns into a question, their likes, reactions, words turn into a question. I hear romance all the time that I don’t understand the reality of. He thought I was just that type of a person -- not so much into romance, kinda shyly bothered by a small amount of romance, not so verbal with their feelings. That is not me. I was that person with him though, since I just never knew what to say with him. This was crystal clear when I tried to tell him my feelings about this relationship back in January, which ended up in the emergency room with an irrelevant vertigo crisis. I was able to get a clear mind later though. A couple of months into yet another round of long distance. At some point, the mind collapses. That’s what happened. I had no control over my thoughts for a couple of nights and I said -- This will stop. If I manage to get my strength going, know that the endless rounds of manipulation and convincing attempts are to come, but get the strength goin, no bother. This took a ride from Manhattan to Brooklyn, doesn’t even matter what song I was playing on the way. That’s what it takes for the mind to collapse, and get clarity. And I did it. I will not talk about the tragedy that people with no hope will resort to various helpless, pitiful actions to get what they want. So, the conversation was pitiful to say the least. 
Then I started fucking this new guy that I met. This has been a crazy week for so many reasons, I don’t even know how to start mapping all this random shit that happened this week. I write these things and go back to them to feel embarrassed, and this will happen again but look, it is not embarrassing to feel confused and vomit all these words. You have been in a state of confusion for far too long. Sometimes it is difficult to get a hold of life, and take the control. 
So J is kind of a dream man to me. I think he is my type, in a lot of aspects. He is calm-natured, kind, intelligent, honest, curious, handsome, and last but not least has a beautiful d*ck (hehe). He is out of a break-up so not in a good state, not a lot of emotional resources available to share and cherish. It is hilarious now looking back I did not question such a thing could potentially be a deal-breaker because first I though he had a partner so I was relieved to hear the break-up, and then my break-up was -oh dear god- so liberating and happy decision for me that I absolutely could not relate to his mind state. He is sad though which is very sad because I do like him.
Here is the thing: I have no idea what is going to happen. I say this and then say well fuck off you don’t ever have an idea what is going to happen, your life is a circle in Bushwick town of the Brooklyn city. 
I should also say that I am thinking about E a lot. He is on my mind all the time, I’m so confused by his presence too. I want to get this out of me and be done with the feeling forever. I don’t know if this is because it’s unfinished in my head, or just a weird way of dealing with the separation such that I’m fixating on the moment of merging and dreaming of it all the time. I’m dreaming of that moment I grab that beer with him. Sit down and talk. I would like to kiss him just to feel it. This is fixation. I fall for the fixators, this is clear by this point. It is a difficult one to bear, because god I did not know I had this much love for him back then. I just did not want to rebuild, why was I so tired at this age? It was so difficult to learn how to breath. 
I have no idea how the shit I’m going to survive this mess but I think this feeling is not new. So I will be fine. It is fine to let myself down and enjoy the low too, since there is no immediate way out of it. I am not to be concerned about other people’s clarity of mind, for the reason that I barely have my own. 
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I'm not sure how you would do this, but maybe like 'something isn't quite right in the water' an eerie sense of wrongness
OCTOBER PROMPTS, DAY ONE: NADINE & THE POND!
What a good prompt! This story is kind of rough, I didn't do any real editing, but I think it's a really cute rough/first draft! Maybe I'll edit it up and put it on the website in November! Also, wow ... First short story published on my actual Tumblr in a minute, everybody clap!
Finally, Nadine was alone. The other children had gone home, lured away from the playground by their parents or dinner, the snap! buzz! of the streetlights coming on. In groups, in pairs, clumped together like homing pigeons, they petered out until it was just Nadine and the swing set, the steep medal slide.
Now, Nadine could unwind herself. For hours, she’d been playing at her own private game of make believe—pretending to be like the others. It was hard work, and took more imagination than any outer space or royal fantasy. To make it believable, to make it real, she had to adjust her spine, change the set of her eyes, and hold her mouth very carefully. She drew her arms away from her side, tried to mirror the posture of the other girls. Nadine tempered her laughter, taught herself how to smile and tease, how to discern mockery from playful banter. By the end of a school day, she was scooped hollow.
The playground after curfew was a great place to replenish herself. There was no one to bother her, no one to perform for. Nadine set her mask aside, and strode over to the swings. She’d been eyeing them for a while, but apparently, it was no longer “cool” to be seen actually playing on any of the equipment. Her peers, the little sect of girls she wished to ingratiate herself with, preferred to sit at the benches and show off their flip phones. Nadine, phoneless, more interested in the company than the possessions, kept letting her gaze drift to the swings.
Now that she was alone, she got on a swing, kicked off her tennis shoes, and kicked off into the sky. What a rush! Every sensation was like bliss—the woodchips crunching against her school socks, the night air whipping up her braids, the feel of the wind against her skin. She took the swing higher, higher, and tilted back at her head. Delicious vertigo, the excitement of being up so high and the fear mingled…Nadine made no noise, no whoop of joy or laughter. She took in deep breaths, felt every nerve in her body alight.
Suddenly, a sound. Nadine dragged her feet hard against the woodchips to bring herself to a stop. It sounded like laughter, bright and high, but not so joyful. It was almost malicious, teasing. Nadine listened to it, but did not move, fear keeping her rooted to the seat of the swing. What if she wasn’t alone? What if some of the kids stayed back to see what she was doing out there? And, thought a sickened Nadine, what if they were all gathered in some shady spot, laughing at her?
Her stomach was oily, roiling. Every time she thought to get up and start home, there came another peal of laughter, higher and meaner than before. Tears stung at her eyes. A lump the size of a peach stone lodged itself in her throat. Nadine held fast to the swing’s chains to give her hands something to do, lest she start scratching herself.
After maybe ten minutes of sitting there petrified, still as a rabbit in headlights, Nadine forced herself up on wobbly, ringing legs. They (if it was a group of kids, as she thought) could laugh all they like, but it was getting cold and she needed to be home before her dad was. She didn’t like the idea of him worrying about her, and there would be no explaining that she was help up at the playground by far-off cackling.
Still, Nadine didn’t want to walk the main street. She could just imagine it, her walking alone and then those kids coming out of the shadows, taunting her, jostling her. Poor Nadine with her mask off, poor Nadine at the swings at night. With enough time and twisting, the story would turn into something ugly. Nadine, you know, that weird girl? The slow one? Well, I saw her at the playground doing some weird ritual on the swings. She looked crazy, a real—
She cut the thought off short, slipped her shoes back on, and started towards the woods. There was a path through the trees that lead right up to Nadine’s backyard. She knew it well enough by day; she couldn’t imagine night changing it all that much.
Slowly, the way lighted by the dim glow of the moon, Nadine cut through the woods. It was strange in the dark, the trees and bushes and metal fences that separated nature from the houses only black silhouettes. She inched herself along, stopping every now and then to admire the look of moonlight on a leaf, revel in the feeling of tingling moths against her forearms. She was usually adverse to weird touches, but there was something appealing about the quiet of the woods, how branches and leaves reached out to her. To hell with castles! If Nadine were the sort to indulge in princess games, she’d want her domain to be of green and dark, cool night air and the evening opera of crickets.
Halfway home, Nadine came across a pool of water. It was black and motionless, and when Nadine put her hand to it, it was strangely warm. Aware of the time but curious, Nadine found a stick and squatted by the water. She threw in leaves, twigs, some small hard things that might’ve been berries or seeds. She imagined she was a little witch brewing up potions, an alchemist making bizarre compounds. Her mind filled, swelled. For a while, there was nothing but the black water, her hand stirring.
So enraptured in her pretend was she that Nadine hardly notice when the face in the water appeared. When she did, finally, see it, she fell back onto her bottom. She panted, blinked, then inched towards the water. Yes, it was there and it was a face. It was almost her face—that was her broad nose, her mouth, her long black box braids, but there was something not quite right about the girl in the water. Something about the set of her mouth, how her eyes sparkled with a sort of barely concealed malevolence.
“Hello!” said the girl in the water.
Nadine waved her hand.
“Can’t you speak?”
Nadine shrugged.
If Nadine did not have much to say, the girl in the water had plenty. She was full of stories, and she told them to Nadine, one after the other. They all seemed to flow together at some point, so Nadine wasn’t able to separate the story about the girl with the donkey skin from the story about the mermaid whose legs turned to seafoam. It was all one thing, one massive tapestry of wolves and monsters, boys raised by monkeys and girls who traded their mother for a pretty drum.
So it went, on and on, until the girl in the water quieted and asked, “Do you want to hear another story?”
Nadine nodded enthusiastically. She sat cross-legged at the mouth of the water, skin pimpled with gooseflesh.
“It’s a really good one. It’s about a faery who gets stuck living with humans. She feels lonely and weird. Only…” The girl in the water frowned. “Only, I can’t tell it to you if you’re up there.”
“Up here?”
“It won’t sound the same if you’re not here with me. Plus, my storybook…I can’t remember the whole thing without the storybook, and I can’t really bring my book to the top. Do you see what I mean?”
Nadine didn’t. The girl had told her so many stories already, and she didn’t see how she could hold a whole treasure trove of tales in her save for one. And besides, it was late at night, even the moon lost to her. No doubt her father was home right now, thinking Nadine was in bed already. She wanted to get back to him, away from the water and the cold. Somehow, suddenly, the stories didn’t sound all that fascinating, and the girl in the water no longer intrigued her. Nadine stood to her feet and told the girl goodbye.
“Wait!” cried the girl. “Don’t you want to hear the story? Don’t you want to come under?”
“No, thank you,” said Nadine, and she continued on her way home, not-so-nice laughter and crickets nipping at her heels.
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jiminrings · 3 years
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petition for stem koo to do all the things for oc he originally said no one does (make her lunchboxes, makes her cheerful...) bc i think that’s a beautiful redemption arc
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cold senior!y/n x stem major!koo masterlist :D
jungkook's day one of his redemption agenda doesn't go that well in the end
"namjoon!!! my man. got any updates for me?"
seokjin strolls coolly on the way to his office, hair slicked back and his dress shirt definitely missing more than a few buttons
what's head admin gonna do??? dress-code him???
fire him???? PLS HE'D BE BETTER OFF!!!!
jin makes student affairs his bitch,,, not the other way around
"for the last time, i am nOt your secretary!!" namjoon stresses as he ceases his typing just to glare at him
he's the university registrar and everyone needs to go through him and at this point he's like a historical landmark from how he's made impact in less than two years
and he and seokjin graduated from the same batch!!!! they're the uncanny always pair for the subjects they shared together
it was definitely weird but functional lol cause one is uptight yet hardworking and the other's relaxed yet smart
sue them for working in the same place they swore they'd never go back to after graduation </3
"if you say-"
"some kid's been waiting for you even before i opened the office. made him sit inside but i just told him that he'd be expelled if he even tries to touch your coffee machine."
namjoon says even before jin could finish the sentence, clearly holding that in until the last minute
jin's obviously a lil annoyed because he's starting work as early as now but the way that joon laid all that out on him is a highlight for him
"thanks. knew you're a secretary for me first and a registrar second."
"no. i'm a national citizen before-"
alright alright he's not listening anymore
this bETTER be important because jin has to hold out his morning routine for whoever this kid is
"what can i possibly do for you today?" he rubs his eyes in preparation, intentionally dragging his steps because just looking at how near he is to his work computer gives him vertigo
"mr. kim!!!"
no
there is no way
there is no fATHOMABLE way that this has got to be happening to seokjin right now
"..... jungkook. what a pleasure."
he sits on his chair, voice gritted and monotone and he could just feel his eye twitching, his clenched fist under his deck now flipping off the kid in secret
it's a last-minute realization that he grasps that jungkook doesn't know you're his friend and it presents some really unique vantage points
like the time that seokjin recounted about a ridiculous student's filing for theft of his lunchboxes and he turned out to be your crush
or when he used his student affairs capabilities and pulled up resources left and right when jungkook broke your heart then seriously contemplated about messing up his academic record
or that time when he delivered a high and sleepy you to bed and then heard the entire conversation (if you could even call it that) between yoongi and this fucking nerd
"i need your help, mr. kim. you're the closest one to me i could ask!!" jungkook pleads desperately, the big doe eyes not really inducing an effect on him whatsoever lmao
"mhmm. i may not be the person for the job. counseling is right next door."
jin hums without even attempting to get jungkook to elaborate because for all he knows, his services aren't exactly open for people who hurt his friends >:(
(a guy once bumped shoulders with yoongi twice on the same day with aTTITUDE!!! and seokjin just dismissed the dude's concerns when a prof of his, who's a buddy of jin's, suddenly gave him an F)
seokjin IS student affairs
“no, no. you’re the only one who can help me!! you see, i-i just feel this brotherly connection with you and-“
“we talked once.”
god what did you used to see in this kid??
a crybaby aND an easily-attached personality to him? god it’s like jungkook’s just asking jin to pick on him
jungkook doesn’t seem to pick up how jin’s making it obvious he really doesn’t want to be of help if it has something to do with him
he likes interrupting and jin’s just the perfect match to interrupt him even earlier so now they just sound like one of those dubsmash snippets
“MR. KIM!!! how do you make lunchboxes? i don't know how.”
jeez where are his manners :O aren’t nerds like him supposed to worship the ground that admins walk on,,,
but what did pique his attention is the content of what jungkook just said
.... lunchboxes?
jin doesn’t want to give the kid benefit of the doubt because the last time he did that, you got hurt!!!!
if he has to hear hyeji’s name one more time, he’d really waste no time in stripping jungkook’s name from the honor roll
“remember that time i thought someone was stealing my lunchboxes?” he quizzes jin like it’s his job, clueless how he’s poking the bear even more with where he decides to go with this, “yeah. turns out no one was.”
was that not made clear the first time around!!!!!! he knows for a fact that a uni student would trade a classmate for a pack of gum but nO ONE would go for stealing a lunchbox
no one wakes up one day and decides that they’d steal a lunchbox. literally none
“but then this random girl claimed that it was hers a-and well i-...”
kook pauses to gauge jin’s reaction, clearly seeing now the one brow that’s raised at him
oh so if jungkook just asked him how to make a lunchbox, and he called h-word random,,,, then that would mean-
“i may have hurt the original giver of my lunchboxes at the process.”
.... that means he’s asking how to make a lunchbox for you
well that was a pleasant surprise
seokjin snorts briefly at that, dryly chuckling with his eyes widening to stress out his “non-threat” that’s pretty mUCH a threat
“wow. i might just give you a sanction for that.”
does he think jungkook’s a good person? lol he has to think about that for a month
was he wrong for hurting you that way? ultimately yes
but did he think at some point that jungkook’s completely heartless and wouldn’t try to redeem himself to his senior? no, not completely
but is he still on your team, regardless if the kid begs for mercy and you forgive him? yea a hundred percent :D yoongi and seokjin could never be brought out from your circle
"and you're doing this why?"
this is a no-brainer question for jungkook but the question still spooks him, feeling the chills at his neck that responding to seokjin is like a sTEPPING STONE when it comes to you
lmao if only he knew
"i uh, i just really wanna make this right. i messed up completely and it's pretty much unforgivable, but i atleast wanna try and give my best even if she doesn't forgive me, y'know?"
interesting
"mhmm. right, right."
???
he's still mad but he appreciates that jeon's doing the bare minimum of redeeming himself
speaking of, the poor kid looks like he's pissing himself because he may have just embarrassed himself with how long the silence stretches out
maybe,,, just maybe jin's gonna try and be a bridge this time
but like as soon as jungkook lacks for a fourth of a second, seokjin would BURN that bridge faster than a blink
"well first of all, you buy a lunchbox."
RIGHT RIGHT
:O
jungkook grabs a literal pocket notebook and jin pretends he didn't see that because WHO the hell does that!!!!
"of course... okay, proceed!! i'm taking notes," jungkook nods in understanding, jotting down the very important advice of not ordering from online because you can't smell the material through a screen
p.s. smelling containers before you buy them is a VITAL thing to do!! it already tells you about the quality at the first sniff
"are you buying one?"
"buying one for every day of the week. i'm thinking if i should get extras too-
"good idea. i recommend buying eight."
alright seokjin's mentioning some very specific colors and schemes and jungkook's not complaining!!!
MAYBE HE'S ONTO SOMETHING!!!
"what meals should i make? i don't even know what she likes!! and even if i knew what, how would i make it?"
why is his heart racing
yoongi may have taught you how to do your taxes but jin taught you how to cook food that's more than four steps!!!
he taught you how to not flinch at all when you're frying and that's the equivalent of raising you to be the woman that you are now <3
look at him and yoongi being your best friends!! teaching you about taxes and being unnerved at cooking oil and busting out a smoke ring or two <3
in fact, the lunches you've cooked for jungkook are all inspired and derived by seokjin!!!
the fact that jungkook's plan isn't bad and the way everything pieces together with his insight,,,, goosebumps luv
"....hypothetically? what i think she'd like?"
jungkook eagerly nods with stars in his eyes, fingers gripping onto his pen for dear life as he tries to channel all his listening techniques into this lecture
"get a bigger notepad."
:O
wow
"look at you!!" yoongi gushes the moment he sees you, waiting at you from the front door
you're going back to your classes again :D
you don't look as worse as you did four days ago!! you're not as sluggish and as animated too
"please don't," you snort as yoongi doesn't seem to stop looking at you like you've saved the world, giving no fight when he insists on carrying your backpack to your first class of the day
the past four days,, yeah they were undoubtedly rough
you slept as much as you could and for the moments you weren't dejected enough to be awake, you spent it surrounding yourself with seokjin and yoongi as much as possible
that's the beauty of hanging out them!!! you're not required to have a single thought lmao
except for the time when yoongi wondered aloud how eels even live and die (or if they even do???) in the first place and that sent everyone in a spiral and you didn't think of jungkook for a single seconds
you're not intimidated to go back to regular programming or with the fact that it's nOT unlikely you'd see a glimpse of jungkook in the hall and such
but that does mean that even if you're the bigger person, you're still gonna avoid him for as long as you could
speaking of!!!! you're looking for the person now that you're eager to find
"taehyung!!"
there he is :D you'd recognize that fluffy mop of permed hair anywhere
"y/n!!"
tae jumps over chairs in excitement to finally see you again after being so worried for you, engulfing you in a hug immediately
alright you see why yoongi thinks he's a golden retriever
you're clearly not a touchy-feely person but you'd let this one pass,, tae helped you (even indirectly) throughout your downtime anyways
"thank you so much for the cookies. i tried taking smaller bites just because i didn't wanna have them disappear that easy," you confess sheepishly, knowing how you had to pull the i just got my heart broken like two days ago multiple times so the two menaces would stop stealing from your stash
:D
jungkook's excited!!!! seokjin may have given him a tip that "he felt it in his gut" that you were gonna go to class today
he came a little late because he wanted to perfect the very loaded lunchbox that's in his backpack right now
oh weird
you're not in your usual chair
bUT jungkook sees a glimpse of your hair and he's certain that you're there and his heart may be beating out of his ribcage
a baby peach lunchbox with a sticker (of what seokjin said he thought you'd like) on the middle of the lid :D
pork katsudon with furikake rice aND coffee jelly pudding on the side!!! it was definitely pressure-racking to strictly adhere to jin's recipe but god does it look worth it
jungkook's only did miniature taste tests on it and he had to stop himself from devouring the lunch that he's made specifically for you
the lunchbox itself is tied neatly with a silk wrap, adding his touch of sewing your name visibly on it aND there's a scribble taped to the lid too
god jungkook really can't wait to make it up to you
sheesh that was one of THEE longest lectures you've ever felt you had
it was actually the same amount of time it's always been but maybe you've been out of practice from just staying at your dorm for days
tae's great company but he could be a little bit chatty!!! you just nod when you feel his voice go up and he apparently gets excited by that easily
.... he apparently also has a small bladder and he told you that within the whole hour of class
"hold on. i gotta pee before next period. go without me!!!' taehyung hurriedly slings his backpack to his arm, looking ridiculous in a rush
tae's sometimes unintentionally funny because you don't even share next period anyways
you're on your way to the exit when a shiny scarf catches the corner of your eye, having to squint at it because wow does it look pretty
is that-
is that your nAME???
you pick it up before you could even rationalize it, realizing then what it was wrapping when you feel the warmth on your hands
:")
"sorry i forgot my headband!!!"
taehyung stumbles back into the room, catching his breath to run back to his seat and fetch the headband he took from his hair to play with awhile ago
he looks shocked to see what's on your hands, flicking his gaze between you and the item but he doesn't think much of it
wOW that's a really shiny scarf!!!
"tae?"
"hmm yeah? what's up?"
he's about to jog back to the comfort room because he hasn't really relieved himself yet, not bearing to leave his headband in the room when anyone could snatch it up
you raise your lunchbox, a thankful gaze on your eyes that looks so close to crying which is why tae's mORE than lost now
"thanks for the lunch."
..
.....
jungkook could only helplessly watch.
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heresathreebee · 2 years
Text
Kinktober Day 19 IMPACT PLAY
Takeshi Kovacs (Elias Ryker Sleeve) X Reader
Tags: +18 | 2k words | mentions of canon typical violence, mmm I'm sure theres some kind of fetish for fucking while sick, kinda dysphoria like?? Reader had a new sleeve, unprotected sex
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AN: unedited need more Kovacs in my life
While you weren't overly fond of your last sleeve, you still hate the feeling of being stuffed in a new one. Plus you just had your face removed by some wack job merc so you have some hard feelings about that. 
You barely blinked when Louis told you about your new sleeve. 
"Look, things were not supposed to go that way," he said, "and I know I owe you a lot for  what you've done for me so far, sooo–" 
Louis gestured with open palms at you and said "tada!" as if you were supposed to know what he meant. 
He quickly realized his mistake and cleared his throat in embarrassment. "Your current sleeve– while most certainly not your birth sleeve– is actually very similar to it as a token of my sincerest apologies." 
You glanced sidelong at Louis' new associate– a stoic fellow wearing the face of a cop who once arrested you. He gave what may have been a sympathetic raised eyebrow and said the unsaid, "you can't look in a mirror yet but that is how I would describe it, sure." 
You flopped backward onto the edge of the bed and sighed. Louis probably had a picture of your birth sleeve since you've known each other for forever and you wonder why he showed it to this stranger. He's not a complete idiot– he knows this guy is dangerous, right? 
Like last envoy aka former terrorist dangerous. 
You examine your hands. They're the right color this time– pretty damn close from what you remember actually. Your hair was braided but the texture seemed familiar so far and Louis must have gotten the Envoy to pay extra to have your migraine implant installed as well. 
Who the fuck was this new guy with money like a Meth? 
"Whelp," Louis clapped his hands, "I have some research to do: can you stay and watch her while I'm gone? Thanks." 
"Not a babysitter– " but Louis was already gone. 
Silence fills the room as the two of you linger in your own little worlds. You link your fingers over your heart and ask, "so tell me the truth– is it anything like my birth sleeve?" 
Kovacs is silent for a while, but then you hear his footsteps approach before he appears above you. He turns his head left and right, examining your face before he answers. 
"Pretty damn close, yeah." 
It is so weird to see a familiar face with a different person behind it. "Gimme a mirror, would you?" 
Kovacs scratches his chin. "... look–" 
"There's a method to my madness," you offer. "Get me a mirror and… help me out a little." 
Kovacs raises an inquisitive eyebrow at you but acquiesces. He finds a handheld mirror in your bathroom and comes back to find you laid up proper in your futon bed staring at the ceiling. He sits down on an open spot beside your elbow and hands off the mirror. 
"Easy, tiger," he warns. 
You meet his eyes and take it with the reflective surface facing away from you. You touch your face– feeling over the bridge of your nose and the shape of your lips. There's so much you barely remember about your original face that the painful nausea in your gut doesn't intensify too sharply. 
Don't think Tak didn't notice your underwear laying at the end of the bed. He wonders for a second if you're just more comfortable without them, but his intuition tells him it's more deliberate than that. An invitation perhaps. 
You frown deeply, flipping the mirror to examine your collarbone. Louis dressed you in whatever he could find– you're sure he had his own sentimental reasons for picking your old sundress and heart shaped locket necklace. Maybe you were wearing it in the picture he had of you. 
You tilt the mirror a tiny bit and feel a little vertigo. It's just your chin, part of your bottom lip and your ears at this angle. All familiar things you've always had. You change the angle and loom fully at your lips and nose. You poke and prod thinking maybe your lips are a slightly different color but the bow and curve is similar enough. 
Your nose is fine, you suppose. 
Your hands are shaking as you maneuver the mirror around your eyes carefully to examine your hairline. Definitely not the same but it is cute! It's here you put the mirror down and try to take deep breaths to keep yourself from vomiting. 
"You ok?," Kovacs asks, "you can stop for now. Get some rest… try again later." 
You shake your head and it makes you dizzy. "No… No, I can do this." 
You set the mirror aside and close your eyes. There is a retractive mirror in your ceiling and you use voice command to pull it up. You know it shows you the whole bed and you've used it before but never for this specific reason. 
In order to adjust to your sleeve, you need reassurance that you are still, in fact, you. 
It's now that you take a real risk and brush your leg over Takeshi's back. "About that other thing I need you to do…" 
Takeshi's calloused hand catches your calf and lifts your leg higher until it's over his head and he pulls it down into his lap. Already in step with your thoughts and very quickly between your legs. You like eager-to-please partners. 
"Come here." 
Takeshi repositions himself so he's leaning over you on his hands and knees. You have to bury your head in the pillow briefly as you catch a glimpse of your new face in the mirror behind him. When the stabbing nausea abates, you wrap your legs around his hips and draw him closer. 
"You know you are pretty," Takeshi purrs into your ear before nipping the diamond earring stud. 
Takeshi plants a string of kisses down to your bust and sucks a clothed nipple into his mouth. You gasp and rock your hips asking him for more. You've got your eyes screwed shut hoping you won't pass out from sleeve sickness. 
The man continues his trail of kisses down to your navel as he pulls the skirt of your dress up. His tongue dips in and it's so hot it feels like fire. You readjust your legs to sit atop his shoulders and nudge him lower, biting your lip playfully. 
Takeshi sucks marks into your inner thigh, touching everywhere except where you need him the most. He's keen to take things slow it seems, which doesn't displease you but isn't quite what you need right now. 
You stare at your reflection and almost wretch. Your thighs lock around Tak's head as you roll to your side over the edge of the bed, struggling to regain control of your spasms. Tak waits patiently for you to relax again, stroking your outer thigh until you unlock your legs from around his neck. 
"Sorry, sorry." You're out of breath and panting, "keep going." 
It's his sleeve– he's wearing that fucking asshole cop's face. You know yourself– your weakness for people who are probably bad for you. The sleeve is that of a sworn enemy and the man wearing it is a stranger. 
Kovacs buries his face between your thighs and swipes his tongue over everything. You grab his hair and shove his nose into your clit, begging with your words too. 
"Please, fuck, need you inside me…" 
You almost don't let him pull away. Tak sits back on his haunches to unbutton his shirt. The whole time he watches your chest heave and he swallows as he watches you finger yourself. 
You're two fingers deep and trying to stretch when Tak takes his member out from the confines of his pants– he hears you gasp as you look at the curved and veiny thing between his legs. 
"Jesus…" 
Tak laughed. "Had a change of heart?" 
You glare at him for a moment before spreading your legs further. "Nope, I'm all yours. Don't be gentle because I won't be with you." 
Something dark flashed in his eyes. Damn, if you knew officer Ryker was packing the night he arrested you, you might have got off with a slap on the 'wrist'… 
Tak grabs your ankle and drags you down the bed. He dips his long fingers into your heat and uses it to lube his cock. There isn't much time to think before he's sliding that almost coke can thick beast into you. 
"Fuck!" You lock your ankles in the dip of his back and pray it doesn't kill you. The stretch burns and then he bottoms out inside you and lets a few curses of his own fly. It takes a moment to relax around the intrusion, he's thicker than most people you've had and you're in a new body. 
You lock eyes with yourself in the overhanging mirror. This is your new face, a lot like your old mug and it's certainly not a clone but if you saw this sleeve in the street, you would probably do a double take. 
Tak presses his nose into your cheek. "Ready?" 
You answer by squeezing his ass. A pert, round white thing that contrasts like fire and ice against the black fabric of his pants. Tak starts to rock his hips to make sure you're not in pain at first, then he repositions his legs to actually thrust inside of you. 
The first time in a new sleeve always feels like heaven– there's no high quite like it. 
"Feel good," the envoy moans in your ear, "look good, too." 
The nausea that dominated you from before is losing as you gain control of yourself. You watch the mirror as Tak pushes the neckline of your dress aside to expose a breast and kneads it with his hand. You keen, wrapping an arm around his neck and angling your hips for more friction. 
Tak keeps his thrusts short and fast, his pubic bone stimulates your clit and you think you might come just from that. Your sickness comes back with a vengeance and Tak hisses as your pussy strangles his cock. You put your hands on his chest to push him away for a second– you need space as you become suddenly feverish and a wet burp signals another close call. 
Tak sits up and tries to give you space by hovering over you on his hands. His head blocks your view of the mirror and he looks concerned. You know you need more… 
Maybe you should have warned him because he was not prepared to receive a slap to the face. You see the shock register in his features before it settles into something dark. 
"What–" 
You slapped him again and he pressed you down into the cheap mattress. Master of every body he's ever been in and trained by Quellcrest Falconer herself… you know he only allowed you to do it. 
Because he liked it. 
Tak pins your wrist down and goads you on. His other hand hooks around your thigh to let him pound a little deeper into you, breath picking up and eyes like a predator. You slap him again, this time his cheek turns pink and you can almost make out the impression of your fingers near his ear. 
Tak switches the hand he is restraining and his thrusts become rougher. He has of course freed your other hand, goading you to hit him again. You make sure his cheek matches the other in color and he groans. 
Every thrust becomes harder and harder, forcing the breath from your lungs and your moans rise higher and higher. 
"Oh fuck, Kovacs!" 
You wrap your arms around his neck and drag him down, hugging him to your chest so you can look in the mirror as you come. Your pleasure washes over your sickness and you come screaming. 
Your head is spinning, but the nausea from before is completely gone. This is your face now. You don't remember your partner coming but he's stopped thrusting and is simply resting lightly on top of you. 
Tak lifts his head with a smug look. "Feel better?" 
"I do," you cuff him over the ear and let him sit up. "Louie can fuck off with that dangerous underhanded job shit, but you are more than welcome to fuck me like that anytime you're in the area." 
Tak chuckled. "I'll keep that in mind." 
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