#look I barely know game coding I’ve done other simple stuff

[dreamerlynx]

i need to stop clicking on these videos expecting anything else but hhhhhh the comments in videos about mojang’s updates / The Dreaded Mob Vote make me so annoyed every time !!! every time I hope there is more understanding even if disappointment and every time … no

[vegalocity]

The Arrangement, Fluff 42 while Red is working on moving out?

Prompt meme  42. “For (her/him/them), (I’ll do) anything.”

I went with the moment of because i was listening to the Shrek 2 soundtrack and got really excited during ‘Ever Fallen In Love’

--

He had to be fast. He couldn't afford to pause for anything. But if he used his teleportation every magical being within a half a kilometer would be able to sense it with his nerves as frayed as they were. This had to be on foot if he wanted to do this without confrontation.

He had two bags on either shoulder, one full of the essentials, the other with his clothes and hygiene products and things. Of the Bull Clones an approximate twenty of them wished to remain with him and he had their AI's saved in separate hard drives in his bag, ready for new bodies once the ones they'd been recently using were destroyed to cover his escape. The last message he made on his home setup played in the back of his mind, repeating the words he'd spoken and hoping they sounded right.

“Start Recording....Hello Mother. Hello Father. I'm half sure you're going to destroy everything I left behind in retribution for my departure, but if you did decide to try and keep my files for whatever use you may be able to glean from them—doubtful, I've been working on a purging bug that should get rid of 90% of my old blueprints and research into any artifacts of power—Then consider this my farewell.”

The security system was shorting out, all the traps and precautions he'd spent decades setting up were going out in flames, making a clear exit through the Bull Clone's passageways just big enough for one fire demon to slip his way through. His parents likely distracted with a large majority of what kept them comfortable in their underground lair all acting up and going on the fritz at once. And if that was all resolved with a resounding 'break every piece of tech around them' then the handful of favors he'd called in would come in handy and he had a small yet aggravating set of demons ready to cause some distractions (and leave before they were actually in any danger, they weren't there to fight after all) until Red Son was long gone.

“Surely this must have come as a shock, to think that your ever loyal son would decide he'd rather run away and join Team Good Guy. Well... I suppose that makes sense, granted the five hundred years of pointedly ignoring I've been basically singlehandedly keeping this family afloat one might forget that I might be capable of making my own decisions, but I digress.”

One more turn, slide past the charging station he'd put up here, hope beyond hope when he undid the secret exit into the streets that there'd be no one waiting for him. He had one clone shell, AI gone running on simple manual commands, set up to explode right as he left to cover the exit as he left so he couldn't be tracked as easily.

Sure enough the charging station and the secret exit beside it were only guarded by one robot. The one he'd set up there. He punched in the exit code and the secret door slid open. He glanced at the panel again and shrugged, might as well. He lit up his fist into a flame and punched the panel, it cracked beneath his knuckles. The street was right before him. He nodded at the clone. “Self Destruct, access code 'Clean Getaway'”  The Clone beeped once and he had three seconds to clear it.

-Or not.

The explosion just barely grazed him, and it wouldn't have hurt at all if it were just the flame of the explosion, but with the explosion came the shrapnel, and with a stinging sensation and the warm feeling of blood creeping down his hand, Red Son realized he'd been nicked with some stray metal.

He had a garage nearby with a stealth truck—just as tricked out as his more iconic truck, just designed to blend into the city traffic easily—and he had to get there before he was in the clear.

“See, the truth of the matter is, I've been doing a lot of thinking about my life and what I want out of it lately, I'd thought that all I desired was the three of us together again. If our family was complete then everything would slot into place, but it didn't. And I realized I'd spent half of a millennia chasing after ideals and blurry memories. And I came to the conclusion that... I don't really know much about myself outside of the context of the family. But I used to know, And as it turned out, it was when I wasn't trying to plunge the world into darkness, so I figured I could probably do that again, see if it sticks this time.”

He heard a roar behind him, and his blood turned to ice. He didn't care if it would alert his parents to his presence nearby as his equipment went to shit around them, he teleported, a flash of fire zipping through familiar roads and ending in the hidden garage, The wind was howling outside amplifying his father's rage, but his parents didn't know which garage was the one he kept his personal vehicles in.

It was just the injury making his hands shake as he slid into his stealth truck he was sure—the purple one with red flames painted on the hood and sides, but to the outside observer simply a normal truck owned by a normal person who simply liked flames and purple—and quickly shed his more distinctive clothes and pulling a nondescript coat from the camping bag in which he'd shoved as much of his clothes as he could fit. Quick as he could he bundled his hair into a hat and replaced his trademark sunglasses with a big pair that covered most of his face—both of which he already had in this truck for this exact purpose.

He started the car and drove out as calmly as he could possibly make it look.

“So take this as my formal declaration: I'm moving out. Now, You're still my parents of course, so I'll avoid confrontations if I can, but I'm not playing this game anymore. I'm not being manipulated or tricked or forced into this. This is my decision. About time I made one for myself, right?”

Though after the explosions of rage went off, the city was not laid waste to, and the people in this area were used to threatening noises anyway so nobody seemed to care.

He'd probably change back into his normal clothes once he could ensure he'd driven in enough circles around the city he would be virtually untraceable and could made the trip to Xiaotian's home.

Xiaotian...

Only hours away now.

Four months, five days. And not a single one of those days went by without thinking about him. Without reminding himself why he was doing this, reminding himself why it was worth it. To have a future with Xiaotian. To be able to be with him without constantly looking over their shoulders for prying eyes. To have that smile, that laugh, that stupid sense of humor and that dumb thing he does when he's working on a picture where he scrunches all of his face up at once and twitches his nose like a rabbit.

“You're my parents, and I still love you. And I hope, by the end of this you'll understand why I had to do what I have done. If not, then at least you can understand this: doing anything for the person you love has turned out to be a genetic trait. And for him, I'll do anything.”

Five hours of driving around aimlessly. He grabbed a snack and saw one of the bull clones whom decided to stay loyal to his parents from the corner of his eye

Four. He saw the delivery cart dart through an intersection and leaned forward to try and grab a glance, unfortunately it was already gone by the time he could.

Three. He could sense his mother laying out a searching enchantment and rolled up his window, the protection charm on the truck keeping him from prying eyes.

Two. The sun had set and twilight blanketed the sky

One. He changed back into his normal clothes and fixed his hair as best as he could. His wound had mostly stopped bleeding, but that would likely change if jostled. He wanted to make a nice first image after four months, but he couldn't look anything better than driving around for almost six hours would do to a person. Though he wouldn't care if Xiaotian looked a little more rugged than usual, so he consoled himself with the idea that he would have a similar mindset and simply be happy that the waiting was over.

And now, a future.

“I’ll see you soon, but I doubt it will be on good terms. Goodbye for now. End Recording.”

--

Send me stuff! 

[thepetulantpen]

(More danganronpa stuff! I meant to post this like two weeks ago, but school’s been rough. Another Kazuichi/Hajime fic based on something that’s been in my ideas folder for ages: Kazuichi makes Komaeda’s hand, post dr2. Enjoy!)

“I’m only doing this for you.”

Kazuichi glares, hoping it’ll make him look more serious, but Hajime only looks relieved. It hurts to know Hajime had been expecting him to say no, but he can’t blame him, given the circumstances. 

“I can’t thank you enough.”

“You’ll owe me one.” This seems to have no effect, so Kazuichi adds, “I’m serious! I should be compensated for going anywhere near that creep.”

Hajime fidgets, hand coming up to fuss with hair that’s no longer there. It’s cut even shorter than it was in the simulation; apparently, he was a little hasty in getting rid of Izuru’s style. It was one of the first things he did when they woke up- Kazuichi remembers watching him, and seeing a bit of himself in the impulsivity.

These days, Hajime looks like he’s always towing the line, wanting to be supportive but afraid to be too defensive. Kazuichi knows he's starting to feel like something of a stranger, seeing their simulated friendships as inferior to the history the rest of them share. Not to mention the guilt at his role in… everything, but that's not exactly exclusive to Hajime.

His expression wavers, before Hajime visibly settles on, “He’s not so bad.”

It’s somehow both an understatement and overstatement- Nagito just is, a person difficult to quantify. Beyond crazy, that is. 

Memory is unreliable nowadays, a jumbled mess of school friends, fellow supervillains, and bits of code on a computer simulated island. The lines feel blurred, relief at seeing his close friends alive bleeding into horror at what they’ve done. Their killing game, too, feels fresh. He can’t help but see Nagito’s body when he closes his eyes, or feel the flash of heat from the bomb. The anger, and the sadness, is irrational- which only makes it harder to process.

Kazuichi doesn’t comment on any of that, distracting himself by turning to his work table. It’s newly set up by the Foundation, not quite lived in yet. Not as messy as he likes it.

“I’ll need some measurements, but I can get started.” He grimaces at the thought, having not even considered it when he agreed to this. “You’ll get that, right?”

Hajime smiles, almost laughs at Kazuichi’s expression, but nods. “Yeah, I got it.”

The thought of Hajime holding Nagito’s hand, carefully measuring, crosses his mind and he has to shake his head to clear it. It’s a stupid thing to be jealous of- Nagito is missing a damn hand. Of all the gruesome truths they’ve uncovered, of course there’s one that’ll give Nagito and Hajime an opportunity to hold hands.

Hajime is still hovering in the doorway, something obviously on his mind aside from Nagito. Normally, this is Kazuichi’s place to prompt him, get him to spill whatever it is. As competent as Hajime likes to pretend he is- freaky Izuru powers or otherwise- he’s always been better at getting other people to talk. 

It’s different now- they’ve got a lot on their plates, more than some repressed childhood trauma that’s appropriate to share on a beach. He’s drawing up schematics for his friend’s hand, and he’s not sure he can handle anything heavy on top of that.  

He turns to Hajime, anyway. If something’s bothering him, it’s better if they can both share that weight. “What’s up? You in the market for more shoddy prosthetics?”

“I don’t think you could make anything shoddy if you tried.” He says it offhandedly, without thinking. The confidence in his voice is enough to make Kazuichi pause, but he’s spared having to react as Hajime continues, “Thank you, really. You’re… a good friend, Kazuichi.” 

The unwitting rejection stings, but he raises his hand for a fist bump. “Of course, man. Whatever you need, alright?”

Hajime nods, a mirthless smirk on his face. It’s stretched too thin, like him. Kazuichi doesn’t know if he’s seen him sit down in the last week- always between righting one wrong and another. Chasing down the shadows of a person he never chose to be.

“Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

It’s disproportionately serious, betraying Hajime’s exhaustion. Kazuichi gestures, silently, for him to sit in one of the extra chairs, an excuse and invitation to rest until someone comes to find him. He takes it, grateful, and scoots it to sit right beside Kazuichi.

Their shoulders brush and Hajime doesn’t flinch away.

Kazuichi tries to keep his eyes on the parts, tries not move too much as Hajime leans against him. He tries not to let it mean anything when Hajime starts reaching for tools before he can, passing him exactly what he needs. Certainly doesn’t think about what it means when Hajime starts to doze off- and focuses muttering his response, never mind that Hajime stopped talking an hour ago.

“Without my brilliance? I guess you’d be collectively short of one hand.”

…

A hand, compared to everything else he’s made, is not a complicated ask. It barely takes a week, and that’s only because he tries to make it perfect. He must spend hours in testing, fine-tuning movement and searching for flaws long after he knows there aren’t any.

Not because he cares or anything- only so he doesn’t have to deal with it again if it breaks. 

The procedure to attach it is surprisingly simple; Mikan takes care of it, leaving Kazuichi to wait outside the room. Hajime’s supposed to be here, too, but he’s late- called away for a Foundation summons, which manages to be less appealing than what Kazuichi is doing now.

When it’s done, Mikan leaves, scurrying out with her head ducked down. She doesn’t address Kazuichi, which isn’t particularly abnormal. They’re all dealing with... this in different ways. 

Inside, Nagito is sitting in a chair, watching, nearly transfixed, as the hand responds to him, twisting and flexing. Kazuichi is tempted to just leave now- skip this interaction that he’s been dreading for days- but he doesn’t. Weirdo or not, Nagito doesn’t deserve to be walked out on.

He settles in the chair beside Nagito, gesturing to the hand. “I’ve got to show you how to take care of it. Maintenance, or whatever.”

“Ah,” Nagito smiles- a normal smile, by his standards, “I’m honored.”

Good to see coming out of the simulation didn’t fuck him up too much- this is about par for the course. Kazuichi just nods and gets to work, glancing up to make sure Nagito understands what he’s saying, more or less. Nagito still apologizes too much, which becomes an obstacle every time Kazuichi has to correct him. It turns explaining the mechanics of the hand, which parts need adjusting and which need regular replacements, into a grueling process.

He really is an air-head, when you get right down to it. Past all of the hope stuff, past all of the luck, he’s a regular guy. He’s not even so painfully insecure, in his best moments. 

It’s almost easy to see why Hajime likes him so much. 

At times like this, it feels like it did in school, simple friendships with no despair-laced strings attached. Hajime not being a part of that equation is a strange inconsistency. The thought that he never properly met Hajime- just Hajime, not Izuru or a computer’s impression of him- makes his head hurt.

“It’s good to see you and Hajime are still getting along,” Nagito says, apropos of nothing, “You spent a lot of time together, on the island. I know he enjoys your company.”

He sounds oddly deliberate, not like the steady stream of nonsense that Kazuichi tends to filter out. It cuts through the haze of his half-concentration on the conversation. “Huh? Yeah, I mean, of course.”

Nagito stares at him, dull grey eyes unyielding, before he smiles, again. “This hand was a favor for Hajime, wasn’t it? I’m sure he appreciated that.”

He sounds almost nagging this time, like he’s trying to get at something in particular, but it’s the words that catch Kazuichi’s attention. Kazuichi looks up sharply from where he’d been checking the spare parts, now labeled and boxed up.

 “It wasn’t just for Hajime, you know.” Kazuichi rubs the back of his neck, trying not to cringe. “I wouldn’t leave you without a hand.”

“I wasn’t doubting your goodwill.” He waves his hand- the real one- dismissively. “Truly, I look up to you. Your devotion to Hajime-”

“It’s not that,” Kazuichi talks quickly, as Nagito’s face starts to fall, “We’re friends. After everything we’ve been through- you think I wouldn’t help?”

Kazuichi bites his lip, half to keep himself from saying anything else. He’s not a perfect conversationalist, but he never imagined he’d outpace Nagito in making a conversation awkward. He shouldn’t have stuck around. Nagito could’ve figured out how to adjust the grip himself, couldn’t he? 

“Oh,” Nagito pauses, genuinely surprised, and stops short of whatever else he was going to say, “in that case, I’m lucky to have such incredible friends.”

The word sounds strange coming from Nagito- too hesitant, like he’s only trying it out. It’s not the first time they’ve called each other friends, but it’s the first time after the world ended; which, even for Nagito, makes a significant difference.

“We’re all here for you. For each other.”

Kazuichi winces, but it has the desired effect of making Nagito smile. Though it doesn’t look like he entirely believes Kazuichi, the expression a little forced, he figures it’s the best they can hope for. 

“Right,” Kazuichi stands, abruptly, and makes for the door, “I’d better get going.”

“Wait, Kazuichi-“

He yanks it open before Nagito can finish and finds, standing in the doorway with his hand half-raised to knock, Hajime. He’s got a knowing look on his face, barely concealing a smile.

“Making friends?”

Kazuichi scowls, trying to look as threatening as he can- which is to say, not very. “Not a word.”

Hajime brushes it off easily, switching places with Kazuichi to sit with Nagito. He relaxes when he does, tension disappearing from his shoulders as Nagito waves to him with his new hand, metal creaking softly.

“Sorry I was late. Makoto is finalizing some of the details and- it doesn’t matter. How are you feeling?”

“I’m great.” Nagito looks like he means it, lighting up at the sight of Hajime. “Kazuichi’s been great company. I see why you like him so much.”

Kazuichi steps back, getting the impression he’s no longer a part of this conversation. He keeps his head down and pretends not to notice as Hajime laughs at something Nagito says- too quiet to hear from the doorway. Hajime looks up as he leaves, but Kazuichi only gives a brief wave, leaving them to their own devices.

It feels vaguely like being left behind, even if he’s the one walking out.

…

It’s a few days later, on the beach, when he dares see either of them again. 

He refuses to admit that he’s avoiding anyone- he only happens to not run into them. It just so happens that he spends the majority of his days locked in his lab, with a Do Not Disturb sign up, listening to the sound of disappointed footsteps approaching, pausing, and leaving. 

And, just once, the click of Nagito’s heeled shoes and an extended moment of hesitation- the shadow remaining at his door for a minute, at least- before it, too, leaves. 

It’s not jealously. It’s just... weird, being around people he calls friend. Even after all this time, he feels like he can’t quite get it right. 

Especially with Hajime. For multiple reasons. 

He’s here now, despite that, because if he doesn’t leave the lab, he thinks Hajime might send in rescue parties after him. It should be embarrassing that he’s partially hidden behind a palm tree, creepily watching Hajime and Nagito from a distance, but it’s not the weirdest thing he’s done, even excluding his time corrupted by despair- hell, even excluding all of their time in the killing game.

Kazuichi smiles softly as he watches them, Hajime’s grin bright and Nagito looking less miserable than usual. The shadows they all carry dissipate in the steady sunlight, the rock of waves suspending them in a limbo on this island, far from where the rest of the world can reach them. 

Nagito says something Kazuichi doesn’t catch that makes Hajime frown, and he waves his hand- the new, metal one- in Hajime’s face, clearly teasing. “I know you do.”

“Nagito,” Hajime is laughing as he tries to catch Nagito’s hand, “Nagito, come on.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m an expert, but,” Nagito lowers his voice, so Kazuichi has to take a few steps closer to hear him, “subtlety isn’t one of your many talents.”

Hajime opens his mouth, like he’s going to argue, just as Kazuichi steps forward, intentionally scuffing his shoe against a rock- feeling, for the first time, guilty for eavesdropping. At his footsteps, Hajime whips around, something suspiciously like a blush on his face. 

Hajime glares at Nagito, who pays him no mind in favor of greeting Kazuichi, cheerfully, with, “What great luck. Hajime was just looking for you.”

The beanie, a few minutes ago, had felt silly while on the beach, under the constant sun. Now, he’s grateful to have something to fidget with. He pulls it lower, as if that’ll hide him.

“You always know where to find me.”

Hajime raises his eyebrows, glancing once at Nagito- who, judging from his shrug, isn’t much help. “I wasn’t sure you wanted visitors.”

“I never mind seeing you.” It’s as if flashing neon signs reading AWKWARD blind him for a moment as he backpedals, “Uh, whenever you want to hang out, man. Never too busy for you.”

“We should,” Hajime interrupts, before Kazuichi can spiral deeper. “Hang out, I mean. Just me and you. If you have time.”

Kazuichi looks over to Nagito- or, the empty spot where Nagito was. There’s a footprint in the sand and, in the distance, he spots the flash of a coat as Nagito trips over rocks on his way to beat a hasty retreat. It’s hard to tell whether Nagito has been taking lessons from Peko, or if Kazuichi’s skills in observation are worse than he thought. He’s not sure whether he wants to thank him or curse him for leaving them- maybe he’ll decide based on how much a disaster this ends up being.

Hajime is watching him expectantly, not as surprised by Nagito’s escape act. 

“Not a lot going on right now. Besides, you know, the apocalypse.”  It’s hard not to be nervous, even if Kazuichi can’t pinpoint exactly why. He can feel a tangent coming on, forces himself to stop before he says something he’ll regret. “I’ve got nothing but time.”

Hajime shuffles a step closer and looks down, not meeting Kazuichi’s eyes. “I’ve missed you. I know that’s stupid, since we’re both on the same island, but-“

“I know what you mean,” he says, quietly, cutting him a break, “I think.” He hopes he knows what he means- hopes it means what it means to him.

Hajime looks up, mismatched eyes studying him. It’s not as disconcerting as he imagined it might be.

After a moment, Hajime glances away again, breaking eye contact. “Do you want to go now? There’s food in the kitchen. It’s nothing glamorous, but,” he shakes his head, smile a little sheepish, “I guess I’m not very good at this, even now.”

He’s clearly doing something right, but if Kazuichi could figure that out, he would have a lot easier time responding. He’d probably even say something more eloquent than, “Sounds great! Lead the way?”

It doesn’t make a difference. Hajime looks delighted, like Kazuichi had said anything else. It’s a warm feeling, to see Hajime smile even when he’s barely done anything to deserve it.

Hesitating just a step, Hajime turns back to Kazuichi and holds his hand out, offering an unsure smile and no words to the silent gesture. Kazuichi takes it before he can change his mind and lets himself be pulled along, nothing on his mind but this moment, the sun, the waves and Hajime.

They can make something new here- hands and hope and a life no longer broken into half-remembered pieces. It’s a new start, after the world and their lives have been burned away a few times over. A second or third chance. Best to stop counting, at this point.

It’s only fitting that they begin again on a beach. This time, he’ll be aiming a little higher than “soul friends”.

[punkscowardschampions]

Edie & Liam

aleeunayzhun: anyone else think the ‘monster’ addition was totally unnecessary and has taken away from what was a mildly intriguing ARG concept beforehand?

aleeunayzhun: 🙄 back on the trail for a new rabbithole to fall down

level26: Yeah, axed it for me

aleeunayzhun: the paranormal route can be alright if it’s done right but usually it ain’t and then it’s a cop-out, PM definitely didn’t think where they were going with this

aleeunayzhun: the ones that rely on the real world but twist it are always scarier to me, no one ever has the balls to stick with it, to not throw in some bullshit ghost jumpscares to get the idiots with

level26: creepypasta is where it ends up with barely no exceptions

aleeunayzhun: mhmm

aleeunayzhun: and no one has shanked their mate over anything on there in time

level26: got a few I’ll volunteer if the next 🐇 is more of this or promo again

aleeunayzhun: If one more shitty band thinks throwing out some binary or morse code makes them any less shit, I’ll join you

level26: dednah tfel neve t'nia ylbaborp yeht

aleeunayzhun: imij erew yeht hsiw yeht

level26: 👅💔🍆💔🎸💔

aleeunayzhun: 💔 they reckon hot groupies hang about on reddit

level26: trolls are their groupies, they can only be fuelled by edgy r/hate 🤘

aleeunayzhun: awh, r/hate is only a degree away from r/love after-all

level26: just like that, a plotline that’d be less crap than [whatever this ARG we’re slagging off is called]

aleeunayzhun: not gonna start my annoying beg promo in here quite yet but how hard was that, really

level26: us both being spam bots is still a better twist than the monster did it

aleeunayzhun: Привет, дорогая, хочешь увидеть мои сексуальные фотки? Hажмите ссылку СЕЙЧАС! [‘Hello dear, do you want to see my sexy pictures? Click the link NOW!’ And a link to god knows what lmao]

level26: NO soundcloud rapper link?! 💀 what an r/cockblock

aleeunayzhun: how’d you guess 😏

level26: my paranormal powers kicked in, clicking that link must’ve leveled me up

aleeunayzhun: advert for communism? 🤔🤫

level26: find me and my sick beats on r/motherrussia

aleeunayzhun: MK Ultra is definitely taken by about 1000 other shit DJs

aleeunayzhun: and is the poorly executed plot of several other ARGs I’ve also given up on

level26: KM Extra is my personal fave shit DJ, really doing something

aleeunayzhun: the fact I genuinely know who that is 😷😷

level26: I noclipped into his set at [somewhere she would have heard of even if she’s not been] talk about an eldritch location

aleeunayzhun: you must’ve felt like the only player in a crowd of NPCs 🧟‍♀️🧠💀🧟‍♂

level26: close enough to the review I would’ve left

aleeunayzhun: I’ll leave it

aleeunayzhun: I know the coordinates

level26: I’ll 👀 out for it

level26: you on moscow standard time or one of the other 10?

aleeunayzhun: I’m the Russian spy, I hack you, comrade

level26: ❤️ tôi cũng cam kết với chính nghĩa cộng sản ❤️ [with some link to the Communist Party of Vietnam because we’re saying we’re as committed to communism]

aleeunayzhun: [links to the Communist Party of Ireland to be like obvs we have both worked out we’re actually from here

level26: cracked the code, like, full props to KM Extra

aleeunayzhun: Only in Dubo would that shit fly

level26: they’d eat his head off outside the pale, yeah, galway’d be having none of it

aleeunayzhun: what they got but a bunch of rocks though

level26: easy pick for the murder weapon

aleeunayzhun: you’d never get far enough in the guinness factory to drown someone in a vat 💔

level26: could do if you got a job as manager and closed for essential maintenance

aleeunayzhun: 💡

aleeunayzhun: won’t do no harm to the taste

level26: iron boost if he’s bleeding heavily when he goes in

aleeunayzhun: delicious and nutritious

level26: ARG coming soon from guinness

aleeunayzhun: bastards better give credit

level26: they can have it, we’re not short of ideas

aleeunayzhun: and you ain’t heard nothing yet

aleeunayzhun: not making it that easy for the wannabe PMs with none of their own

aleeunayzhun: 🔐the real ones

level26: fair play, given enough freebies out in this thread

aleeunayzhun: 🤐

aleeunayzhun: [later on though definitely some way to contact her privately but in a way that you’ve got to work it out of course]

level26: [at least then we can switch to y’all’s names ‘cause I can’t think of a username for the life of me lol]

Edie: [You can add it later and change it, it’s fine lol]

Liam: 🔓

Edie: 1 🔑 for 1 💎

Edie: Suitably impressed

Liam: if I knew anywhere that loaded a 💎 into the gun I’d be off but what’s impressive about a swollen and green ear

Edie: Impressive, no; but good footage for the game? Absolutely

Liam: I’d do it here to have time to mess about with all the lighting and angles

Edie: you’re 🎥

Edie: not enough have actual artistic merit so fair play

Liam: but thinking about it, recording the conveyor belt of a trainee stabbing holes in screaming babies ears all day could have some merit to it, maybe I should get myself up

Edie: you can buy anything and everything from bezos

Edie: live your dreams

Liam: putting my dreams on tape would be worse than the monster reveal

Liam: cheapest jumpscares and effects

Edie: not to mention outing yourself to the whole thread, not just me

Liam: how many teachers would crawl out the woodwork if there was a mass reveal

Edie: to offer you the school’s stellar mental health services

Edie: the one nurse phoning it in

Liam: find my dad lurking on the thread too, that’d be a trip

Edie: unexpectedly wholesome

Edie: I’ll start hiding caches where my dad hides his stashes

Edie: unintentional rhyme

Liam: bars 🎼

Edie: @ KM Extra

Liam: Fachtna to his ma who thinks he’s a saint

Edie: Oof

Edie: ARG concept no. ? the horror of the Irish language

Liam: my ma would be 😱 if I went and hugged her for not doing me that wrong

Edie: not the audience we aim to 😱 really

Liam: too easy

Edie: almost as easy as your name to spell and say

Edie: you even from here 👽

Liam: wouldn’t take enough working out to set you as a test, records are basically lying about

Edie: nothing relating to school is a challenge

Liam: just getting that nurse to give a shit

Edie: if she reckons she’s 👀 it all…

Liam: front row of our intended audience

Edie: splash zone

Liam: she’s never off her phone, spy like you won’t have no problem hacking it

Edie: her nudes = actual monstrosity

Liam: dunno what Mr Doyle sees in her

Edie: yeah, he’s such a looker himself, like

Liam: his wife used to be pretty fit

Edie: don’t matter when she explains how and why people cheat

Edie: psychobabble gets ‘em off every time

Liam: if they taught psychology nobody’d be off each other or learning anything then

Edie: sounds like any other standard schoolday

Liam: that's what they’re getting up to in your class, is it

Edie: as cliche as the monster, yeah

Liam: 🔥🏫

Edie: hear hear

Edie: got to make the endless fire drills worth it one day

Liam: can’t miss me standing in line or not

Edie: then I won’t

Liam: next false alarm I pull

Edie: + 💎

Liam: + 👀

Liam: dont have to hate every cliche

Edie: not the good ones

Edie: all about how you use or misuse them

Liam: can you overuse eye contact

Edie: I can

Liam: I can make a kubrick stare work however many takes you wanna do

Edie: you don’t think I’m a one-take 🌟

Liam: I’ve not shot you

Edie: 🤯🔫

Liam: I’m not a one-take 📷📹

Edie: is that a brag for not suffering from premature ejaculation?

Liam: do you need that reassurance

Edie: I don’t know

Liam: I’ll think about other unsexy shit if your eyes start getting to me too much

Edie: Ha, yeah right

Edie: just don’t think about the 🔥

Liam: 🚒 buzzkill

Edie: 🚓 cockblock

Liam: 🚑 scene stealers

Edie: 🛸 out of here

Liam: before you can get stuck there as a 👻

Edie: Purgatory is preferable to that place forever

Liam: stay alive and it’s simple to get out of 🏫

Edie: I’ll leave my bag behind

Edie: 1st rule and only, really

Liam: don’t really need a pile of textbooks

Edie: I doubt that’s what you carry

Edie: I know I don’t

Liam: I can get more of what I do and I bet you could too

Edie: Bars

Liam: 😏

Edie: You’ve promo’d him a lot if you ain’t him

Edie: KM, like

Edie: bit sus

Liam: you said you know who he is, you know I ain’t

Liam: maybe I love him or some gay shit

Edie: none of his tracks sound like love songs

Liam: guess he don’t love me back

Edie: Oh honey

Edie: lock him in when you set the fire

Liam: he can keep spitting out those fuck yous til the end

Edie: dedication ✊

Liam: and +++ for morale

Edie: what a lad

Liam: love triangle is a cliche too far, take a deep breath or something

Edie: bit possessive

Liam: directors are dicks

Edie: and the heartbroken

Liam: yeah, couldn’t be kind to you if I wanted

Edie: I’ll survive

Edie: you’ve given me the heads up, I’ll give you the 👀

Liam: respect killing me with your 👀 and taking him for yourself

Edie: who could blame me

Liam: my ma as I’m dead, like

Edie: true

Edie: i’ll avoid her at the tescos

Liam: 🛒 dash

Edie: got a selection of my own

Edie: [picture because the random crap you would have in the barns lmao]

Liam: [a picture of one he stole at some point that’s on fire or been blown up or whatever]

Edie: 👏

Edie: what else can we 💥

Liam: got any barns you don’t use

Liam: or 🚜 stuff

Edie: loads

Edie: if you’re lucky, I’ll leave another 🔑

Liam: got another ear to put a 💎 in, luck’s gonna run out beyond it

Edie: sounds like some gay shit, you should

Liam: 👌

Liam: [pics when we’ve done this because of course we have, casually raiding either your mother or sister’s jewellery stashes here like]

Edie: Oh

Edie: actually looks kinda sick

Edie: you’re welcome then

Liam: I’ll send the footage when I’ve edited it

Edie: I look forward to it

Edie: I can’t give you any clues

Liam: what makes you think I need em

Edie: [idk how to differentiate but clearly the clue to where you live needs to be much harder to find and then decode lmao]

Liam: [awkward when he blatantly already knows where you live]

Edie: [do not even need to do the work, whoops]

Liam: [convincingly pretend you are though please]

Edie: [thank god he’s not a murderer even if he is a stalker, just giving out this info willynilly]

Liam: [not your stalker, it’s FINE]

Edie: [oh dear oh dear]

Edie: I’ll know when you work it out

Liam: yeah, I’ll show up 📷📹🌾

Liam: or send a 📦💣 if you wanna take things slow

Edie: you decide

Edie: I’ll shake all the packages extra hard

Liam: cancel the real 🐇 I thought about

Edie: animal cruelty is lamer than bed wetting

Liam: never even tipped a 🐄

Edie: they’ll appreciate it

Edie: anyway, if you did, punishment is letting them kick you in the face so you lose in the end

Liam: head injury’s a win if I get caught for the 🔥🏫 or being seen staring in your window

Edie: 😍🤤 just serial killer things

Liam: pretend I didn’t say KM’s gonna be my 1st victim

Edie: I’ll never feel special otherwise

Liam: you don’t feel special knowing I cracked your code

Edie: if anything, it makes you look smart and me not smart enough

Liam: you’re smart enough that I wanted to

Edie: I’m not going to ruin it with a cliche jumpscare now

Liam: me either, you’re smart enough too to see me coming

Edie: and you’re tall, so I hear

Liam: dunno where from, my dad’s not

Edie: he’s definitely your dad?

Edie: I may as well accuse your ma because I’m already avoiding her for the whole killing you thing

Liam: don't act like it which probably means he is

Edie: ha, real talk

Edie: I think you might be taller than mine

Edie: he’s 6’2

Liam: ha, I am

Edie: you’re the tallest person in school, possibly town

Edie: definite 👽

Liam: taking their time parking the ufo and picking me up, typical dad

Edie: did they forget ET or leave him here on purpose

Edie: he was fucking annoying

Liam: if I looked that much like a ballsack I’d understand

Edie: 😂

Edie: least you’d get to get fucked up with baby Drew Barrymore

Liam: baileys on cereal does taste sick, always down for that

Edie: yum

Edie: what do your fingers look like

Liam: [a video of his hands from lots of angles like hello]

Edie: hot

Edie: you can call me Elliot

Liam: or just call you instead of home

Edie: 😎 so smooth

Liam: what’s my ma gonna say, get back, talking to you is smarter

Edie: I’ve got time to set up the voice distorter so you’re not disappointed by the lack of crEEEEeeeEPpPPpyyyyYy vibes

Liam: and I’ll have loads of time to hear how you sound without it when I stake your house out

Edie: I’ll be sure to be loud

Edie: and not chat total inane shit with my family

Liam: you got your own room

Edie: technically not

Edie: but there are other rooms and places to crash in, when I wanna be alone

Liam: there’s my excuse to zoom in creeEEPpILY close 👀 when you’re not

Edie: very awkward and even ruder if you confused me for my sister

Edie: no one’s done that for ages

Liam: how were they ever doing it

Edie: we’re both the white ones, they just didn’t know which was which

Liam: can’t be a hard code to crack, not gonna be confusing you for anyone

Edie: good

Edie: it was pretty annoying

Edie: and I’m already your second victim as it is

Liam: partner in crime, or groupie to mine if you’re not getting actively involved, but still standing at the end

Edie: hope you’re writing some of these down

Edie: ‘cos I’m not gonna be your groupie

Edie: got my own scores to settle, own havoc to wreak

Liam: don’t need to write down I don’t want you to die, I’ll remember

Edie: it rhymed though

Edie: I’ll steal your lines then

Liam: write as many songs about me as you want, be your groupie til I get 🛸✌️

Edie: [send your music links because you ain’t]

Edie: give me a sec to do yours but pretend any of these are about you

Liam: this is you

Liam: serious

Edie: yeah

Edie: if I was gonna lie I’d have done that a few steps ago

Liam: I’m gonna lie they’re all about me

Edie: that’s what serious meant

Liam: it meant I’m impressed and you’re downplaying how smart you are

Edie: you can be my hypeman and overplay it

Liam: [does by uploading this edited ear piercing escapade with whatever song of hers we like and fits the vibe playing in it, giving her credit because we’re not a heathen and also putting on his stories that he’s listening to these tracks and hyping them how you can]

Edie: [so 😍 over this but trying to be chill somehow and somewhat even though we’re extra af anyway]

Edie: maybe I do wanna be your groupie

Edie: what do you want from me

Edie: like, I owe you and I want to give you something too, ‘cos

Edie: talking to you IS interesting

Edie: and not just because I could be talking to my ma or someone else really boring instead just ‘cos you are

Liam: [for real though her views would definitely go up cos the vibe is he knows loads of people through his sister but also through his weird vids and the raves and stuff he goes to now too so]

Liam: all I want’s to keep talking to you, for as long as you’re into it

Liam: people don’t unless we’re off our faces, like

Edie: my notifications are popping off rn

Edie: I know what you mean though, everyone’s too scared to say or do anything when they don’t have something to blame it on, like being stupid or weird or whatever the fuck actually matters

Edie: more than being bored and alone

Liam: dunno what they’re more scared of, what they wanna ask or how I’m gonna answer, least I know what the topic’ll be

Liam: every convo I have is a loop

Edie: all anyone ever cares about and knows is the headlines

Edie: as if there aren’t countless hours minutes seconds before and after the big events they all 👀 and 👂

Liam: work out sweet for you as a headliner

Edie: Getting them to talk about what I’m doing instead of whatever my parents and the rest of the fucking fam did or do is the goal

Liam: with me hyping you up, no bother, keep knocking out hits and I’ll promo em with no trace of binary or morse code

Edie: and you make films

Edie: I wasn’t sure if you were pissing about at first

Edie: every other person in that thread is an aspiring filmmaker so

Liam: did put me off for a while

Edie: Yours aren’t going to be bad Blair Witch ripoffs though

Edie: I can say that much without seeing

Edie: even the stuff you’ve sent today is dope

Liam: do you wanna see

Edie: yes

Liam: [link her cos I doubt all the weird shit is just there chilling on your insta or whatever]

Edie: [just casually watching all of this nbd]

Liam: siht ekil kool annog weiver ruoy

Liam: или, может быть, это

Edie: hoặc tôi có thể làm như thế này [‘or I could do it like this’]

Edie: si ffuts ruoy kniht i looc woh edih annaw tnod i tub

Liam: ba mhó an spraoi é a cheilt agus a lorg go pearsanta [hide and seek would be more fun in person]

Edie: If you’ve worked out where I live like you say

Edie: be fair and count to 100

Liam: you reckon you made it that easy do you

Liam: be cool if you added some 00s to that and gave me a fair chance

Edie: no, you could still be anyone

Liam: someone to be scared of, yeah I probably am

Edie: Do you want me to be scared of you

Liam: nah

Edie: Good because I’m not and I never promised I was a 🌟 so

Liam: 🤩 with or without promises

Edie: How have I never spoke to you before

Edie: so weird

Liam: I wouldn’t have known what to say to a girl like you

Edie: You seem like you’re coping fine to me

Liam: from behind a keyboard I can cope with anything

Edie: You’re not afraid of me either

Liam: not yet

Edie: What do you think I’m like?

Liam: smart, creative, nice to talk to and look at

Edie: then you’ve got nothing to be afraid of

Liam: I’ve got nothing, that’s bang on

Edie: I’m not trying to take anything from you

Edie: but I could throw those compliments back to you x 10000

Liam: you don’t like possessive, I ain’t gonna tell you what to do

Edie: I didn’t say that

Edie: you could claim better than a soundcloud DJ though

Liam: been waiting to hear that compliment specifically

Edie: 😏

Edie: You look like you’d be a fuckboy

Edie: that’s what I thought

Edie: you’re that good-looking

Liam: if I was the game’d be making you think I wasn’t, which is kinda where we are

Edie: True

Edie: so I’m that dumb or you’re that good, what are we going for?

Liam: you’re smart enough to play dumb, I don’t think I can aim for god tier puppet mastery of anyone’s emotions

Edie: I can see the appeal of that

Edie: closing you eyes to thing you don’t wanna see, to see the things you do

Edie: but mine are wide open

Liam: I ain’t mad, there’d be no appeal to yours being closed, unless you drop bars in your sleep too

Edie: you’re gonna find which window is mine and find out, yeah

Liam: wake you up before you name drop KM as it’s MY thing

Edie: that’s your man, I can respect it

Liam: exclusivity is a + for you then, I’m taking notes

Edie: I don’t really know

Edie: everyone’s lame

Liam: I’ve been there, yeah

Edie: I can’t fake enthusiasm for the sake of it

Liam: it’s a shite idea, doable or not

Edie: I don’t intend to

Edie: 🤞

Liam: can’t think why you’d have to

Edie: I won’t make you promise

Liam: what’ll you make me do

Edie: I want you to show

Edie: and be real and not just go ghost after this

Edie: but I don’t know if you will and I know you might

Liam: be a short afterlife, we don’t get american summers

Edie: we both got the capabilities, but I can promise not to stalk you if you like

Edie: if you want to stick to usernames and anonymity

Liam: not working out where you are to prove I can and a face in the window haunting wouldn’t even impress any dads lurking on the thread

Edie: Alright but I’d be more inclined to keep a secret if you asked opposed to all the dads

Liam: I wouldn’t wanna keep anything we do secret

Edie: Yeah?

Liam: if this is a scam I’m falling for everyone’ll see why and if it’s not I’m gonna document everything

Edie: I won’t ask for your credit card details even once

Edie: This is… different

Edie: isn’t it

Liam: you can have my ma’s, you’re avoiding her and the big tescos

Liam: I don’t know what this is, I wasn’t expecting you at the end of any of those links

Edie: It IS the least she could do

Edie: If I had a guess, you weren’t it

Edie: Even though you mentioned Dubo, it isn’t that small of a town

Liam: ha, how livid you’d be if I was another american coming here for the culture

Edie: not close enough to st patrick’s that I was worried

Liam: how did you feel

Edie: I thought no way it was you at first

Edie: and then I couldn’t believe it was you

Edie: and then that I should’ve known you sooner

Edie: what about you?

Liam: I still can’t believe it’s you, I would’ve tried to chat to you sooner if I knew this is how it’d go

Edie: I’m glad we are now

Edie: and I’ve not fucked it up

Liam: if the small world’s not fucked it up, you won’t

Edie: like you said, be shit if you were in America

Liam: be crap if you were anyone else from school, like you said

Edie: If it was anyone else from school

Edie: this convo would be well over by now

Liam: it’s the longest I’ve had for years

Edie: It’s all so surface level, right

Edie: fuck that

Edie: I wanna know more about you, I don’t care if I shouldn’t just say that

Liam: what do you wanna know

Edie: Hmm

Edie: Do I only get the one question?

Edie: Because I’ll think more carefully if so

Liam: nah, there’s no limit on it

Edie: Cool

Edie: so how was your day, and what were you doing just before you went on the forum?

Liam: [send her a video of some rave or whatever you were at because it’s summer bitches]

Liam: + 3-4 hours sleeping

Edie: Lucky

Edie: where’d you sleep and where’s the weirdest place you’ve got + 3-4 hours sleep before?

Liam: [send her some of the blooper-esque stuff you cut out to make it look more fun than it is, cos we know you’re usually bored]

Liam: home, I can’t 💤 in random xD places but I could call your dad short and maybe have him in a fight

Edie: that’s hot

Edie: he could’ve been there and you coulda tested that theory

Edie: but I wanna be there when you do

Liam: you’d have a shite view from the stage with lights blinding you, can’t let on how talented you are while we’re there

Edie: 😶

Edie: he’s not old so it’s not on a par with animal abuse lameness

Liam: and if I get carried away you can stop me

Edie: can I

Edie: + skill points

Liam: 🎶 works on monsters

Edie: have to find a way to get you home before the 💤 hits

Edie: so cute 🥺

Liam: mine or yours

Edie: 😳

Edie: I’ll protect you while you sleep, see if you can at mine

Liam: I can’t if you’re 👀

Edie: that might be a problem

Liam: how long can you not blink for

Edie: [send a vid of an attempt]

Liam: can I keep this

Edie: ‘course

Edie: use it if you can

Liam: when you write a song about me it’ll need a vid

Edie: I’ve started

Edie: I think by the time you find me, it’ll be done

Liam: people who don’t know you are gonna think I edited your eyes that colour

Edie: hashtag they’re real 😏

Liam: the girl who said she had an operation as a kid’s the real you

Edie: 😂

Edie: they were going rouge and I’ve repressed those memories

Liam: what were you doing before you logged on

Edie: not at a rave, sadly

Edie: I was masterminding a sabotage though, trying to anyway

Liam: don’t leave it there giving me no details

Edie: it isn’t even bad ARG plot worthy

Edie: but my sister has her gross boyfriend over and I need to ruin their fun, obviously, because they are unbearable

Edie: easiest way to do that is make them babysit the twins because there’s nothing fun about 9 year olds

Edie: so I convinced ma to go out on a date, but I still need to get my brother out the way and he’s a massive nerd who never goes anywhere so I’m stumped

Liam: we could have fun with it, gotta be a route to go down that’s not just ripping off the shining again

Liam: a nerd how, he’s on mastermind and his subject is _

Edie: 🪓 is just a prop, honest

Edie: bones, not in a cool way

Edie: History, all that old shit

Liam: [obviously find some kind of obscure af exhibit or book signing or something that he’d potentially be interested in and send her the deets because sleuthing is what you do boy]

Edie: OMG but genuinely

Edie: you are too good at this, I’ll have to keep you around

Liam: stashed with the 🪓

Edie: if you fit

Edie: He’ll actually go to this, for sure

Edie: 🐓🚫

Liam: keep what you figure’s useful and chop off the rest 🧩🧟

Edie: 😋

Edie: what an offer

Edie: and I do need to keep busy so I can’t be asked to step in

Edie: not that I’d say yes

Liam: busy like with a 🧭

Edie: go on

Liam: [god knows what scavenger hunt he’s sending you on gal that he apparently just has ready at the drop of a hat but here we are]

Edie: [live your best nerd lives]

Liam: [really hope these clues aren’t something he was gonna torment your sister with, because no thank you]

Edie: [lmao i hope it wouldn’t translate so easy ‘cos imagine]

Liam: [it definitely wouldn’t but a hardcore blag happening here regardless, I like to think you were actually coming up with this for her while you were pretending to work out her address that you already know]

Edie: [that’s a solid shout ‘cos yeah that is a thing lol]

Edie: [definitely sending you the demo of this song at the end as a prize because we’re beyond 😍 now]

Liam: [likewise even though he’s trying to downplay how 😍 he is to himself rn because it’s so weird that she’s Rio’s sister and that he actually also likes her in her own right so we’re fully !?]

Liam: [nevertheless trying to think of something creepy but cool he could send to her house so she knows he knows where it is and that we think this demo is amazing obviously, maybe it’s lots of other people’s shit musical endeavours like KM that we’ve set on fire and otherwise destroyed in creative ways like you’ve slayed the competition gal since cds and tapes are back baby idk]

Edie: [I wonder if I can find something like that to post hmm to pinterest I go]

Liam: [love the visual of you just sneakily dropping off a massive box of melted plastic without anyone seeing you]

Edie: [you’re clearly good lmao, I was thinking we could do a convo with Billie between this and the next one though]

Liam: [good idea boo, I’m up for that]

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Stark Spangled Banner One Shot: You Can’t Kid a Kiddo

Intro: It’s April Fools’ Day…and Tony is out to play. Avengers, beware!

Warnings: Bad language, very mild smut...no one gets naked.

Pairings: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark 

A/N:This is written for @wkemeup​ ‘s  4K Writing Challenge. My prompt was dialogue- “I take zero responsibility for this…”

This takes place in the Stark Spangled Banner timeline in April 2015 just before the events of AOU. Steve and my OFC (Katie Stark- Tony’s sister) have been together for 2 years ish and are engaged at this point as well. There’s also another Easter Egg in here for me to set up another One Shot I’m working on...

You don’t have to have read SSB to understand or enjoy this but feel free to check them out if you so wish. Stark Spangled Banner, and the prequel Stark Spangled Man can both be found here on my Masterlist.

Please re-blog and send me comments/thoughts. That’s my jam!

Steve’s hands were hot on Katie’s hips, gently gripping her bare skin just above her underwear, the top she was wearing riding up slightly. Her bare thighs were straddling his as he gripped her neck, pulling her down for a searing kiss, grinding up against her, the TV programme was long forgotten.

“You know…” he said, pulling back slightly to look at her, one of his hands tangling in the hem of the plaid button down she’d stolen from him to sleep in, as usual “Captain America doesn’t approve of theft.” “Captain America is an ass hole.” she grinned back “Stevie is my favourite.”

He gave a chuckle and leaned back against the sofa cushions, looking at her for a second “How did I get so lucky?” he asked, reaching up to tuck her long hair behind her ears. She smiled at him, her cheeks slightly flushed.

“What’s brought this on?” she asked, her hands sliding up his chest, resting on his shoulders, fingers gently playing with the collar of his polo shirt.

“Nothing.” he said, “Just seeing you before, today, with that reporter, just reminded me about how fierce...” he pressed a kiss to her lips “and loyal…” another kiss “and downright sexy you are when you’re angry…”

“He was a dick.” she mumbled, against his lips, her eyes narrowing slightly as she pulled back to look at him, his fingers gently tracing the outside of her thighs “I mean, it’s not like we haven’t already launched the publicity campaign already…”

“Well it’s big news.” he smiled up at her.

“Of course it will, it’s Harlan Thrombey…” she shrugged “His books are huge!”

“Did you ever get to the bottom of why he’s reached out to SIP to run the next one when he has his own publishing company?” “Oh something to do with his Son annoying him and needing to be taught not to take things for granted.” Katie shrugged “I can ask him that in October when we meet him to go over the final edit and discuss the covers and stuff… but that’s by the by. That ass-hat reporter should have been at the press launch like everyone else, not trying to accost us when we went out for lunch. And what the fuck has whether we’ve set a wedding date got to do with it anyway? Nosey bastard.”

Steve chuckled at her rant and looked at her, his eyes shining. “We haven’t set one though.”

“Yeah well, we’ve kinda had a bit going on.” she said, “Maybe once all this business with the sceptre is sorted we can think about it.” Steve sighed “I know, it’s taking a little longer than we hoped.”

“Well it’s only the end of March.” she shrugged “I’ve always wanted a summer wedding so it’s not…”

She trailed off and Steve saw her eyes widen and her mouth dropped open as she looked at him. “Oh shit…”

“Kitten, what is it?” he frowned.

“It’s the 31st March…” she looked at him, swallowing. Steve felt the colour draining from his face "Crap." The reason for their horror was simple. Because, forget Christmas or Thanksgiving, April Fools’ Day was Tony Stark's favourite time of year, as his long suffering sister could testify. When she was a kid, Tony had done the usual stuff. Flour in her talc, washing up liquid in her shampoo, paper shapes of bugs (never spiders though, he wasn't that cruel) in lampshades so when she turned the lights on she'd think she had a huge cockroach in there, that type of stuff. But, as she matured so did the pranks. At one time whilst she had been at the tower for a meeting JARVIS sent her an alert that someone had slashed her tyres in the carpark. She had sprinted outside to see photos of Slash from Guns and Roses struck to the side of her tyres. Another year Tony had hacked her StarkPhone and Laptop and changed the language to Chinese. Of course she couldn't read fucking Chinese to change it back. When she found an agent in SHIELD who did and he reversed it for her, within 30 seconds it had flicked over to Russian. And when she fixed that it became Swedish and so on and so on... Steve had also been the butt of a few pranks since he had known Tony. In 2013 he had fallen for the old toothpaste Oreo trick when a box had arrived for him allegedly from the cookie company themselves after Steve had been papped eating a packet. That had nearly made him sick. And then last year there had been the none stop phone calls asking for Franklin. Every time it was someone different and Steve was getting more and more frustrated as to who exactly Franklin was and why people thought he was on his number. Then, as he and Katie had been on the sofa making out, he'd gotten one last call…

"Leave it..." she said, her hands in his face turning her back to look at him. He kissed her again, hands sliding up the side of her torso, grinding his crotch down onto hers making her purr with delight as her hands strayed to the buckle of his belt, soft fingers gently skimming his abs as she made to undo it, his tongue tangling ferociously with hers as he gave a soft moan of pleasure... But his phone was going again. Katie sighed as he dropped his head to her chest, mumbling a curse. "Unless that’s a Code Red, you can tell whoever it is to fuck off." she said with a frustrated growl, her head flopping back against the cushion as he reached over and answered it, still led over her. "Rogers..." he said sharply. It was another unknown number, but not an unknown voice. "Hi this is Frankin!" Tony greeted him Steve let out a growl of frustration as he realised he had been had. "Have there been..." pause as the inventor laughed "I'm sorry, have there been any calls for me?" "Tony I swear to god!" he spat through gritted teeth as the inventor cackled and hung up. "Your brother is a dick." he looked down at Katie, shaking his head. "Well yeah, I know that…" Katie looked up at her boyfriend "What did he just do?" "Those calls I’ve been getting all day. Asking for Franklin?" He looked at her and she nodded "it was him."

She paused and then let out a laugh “Ok, to be fair, that’s a pretty good one…” “I hate him.” he mumbled, dropping his head back to her chest.

She chuckled again, and ran her fingers through his hair. “Hey, Stevie…wanna get him back?" “How?” Steve queried, propping himself up on his elbows, looking at her.. “Call him...” she grinned, leaning up and nipping at his jaw line softly as he closed his eyes “Leave the phone on the table...” she bucked up under him, wriggling her hips, his trousers feeling uncomfortably tight  again “and let him listen to us make out”

Steve hadn’t done that, because, well frankly the thought of anyone listening to them wasn’t a great turn on in his books so Tony had gone another year of getting away with it.

Simply put, Tony was king of the pranks, and this year he had the entire team at the tower to torment. 

“We should warn the others…” Steve looked at her, and with a sigh she nodded. She untangled herself from him and straightened the legs on her denim shorts.

“JARVIS?” she asked.

“Yes Miss Stark…” “Where are the rest of the team?”

“Agent Romanoff and Agent Barton are in the Common Room.” he spoke “Thor is in his quarters as is Mr Stark and Dr Banner is in the Lab…”

“I’ll text Nat, Clint and Banner.” she said, nodding “Can you go see Thor…he doesn’t have a phone and I’m not asking JARVIS to do it in case Tony catches on…” Steve nodded “Yeah, I’ll pop down and see him now.” Giving her a quick kiss he straightened his pants slightly and headed towards the hidden elevator, selecting the right floor. Thor and Clint shared one of the highest floors in the tower, both preferring to be higher up, closer to the roof but it was still below their’s. Exiting the elevator, he turned left and knocked on the door.

“Captain?” Thor answered and stepped back. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” “It’s not strictly pleasure I’m afraid Thor…” Steve sighed “I’m hear with a warning.” “A warning?” he frowned.

“Yeah, you got five minutes? It’s gonna take some explanation.”

***** Tony was giggling to himself as he put the final touches to the last of his pranks, before closing the door to the Lab and heading back to his floor. None of the team were up yet, it was ridiculously early, but the early bird catches the worm and all that. Fuck Killian and his second mouse bullshit. He had been toying with setting it all up the previous evening but he didn’t trust Kiddo and Spangles not to do some kind of recon mission before they went to bed. 

“What have you been doing?” Pepper mumbled to him as he walked back into their dark bedroom.

“Nothing…” he said, with a grin, leaning down to give her a peck.

“Bullshit.” Pepper mumbled against his lips. “It’s April Fools Day…” “Is it?” he said, innocently and she rolled her eyes “JARVIS?”

“Yes Sir?”

“Hey buddy, I need you to set up an alert for me for today. If anyone goes into my office, or the garage, or anywhere in the tower messing with my equipment I wanna know about it.”

“Of course Sir.”

Tony grinned as he headed into the bathroom for a shower. “Game on, Avengers...” 

Prank 1.

Steve was the first victim. He and Katie were making their way, cautiously, down to the large meeting room where they were all due to congregate to look over the plans of an abandoned British prison they suspected of being a Hydra base. They made sure to check round each corner before they walked round it, checking up high, low, everywhere.

But there was no avoiding this prank.

Steve pressed his palm to the Biometric Pad on the meeting room door and the pair of them gave a loud yell and a jump as their ears were assaulted by a sudden chorus.

“Who's strong and brave here to save the American Way? Who vows to fight like a man for what's right, night and day?”

“Oh for fucks sake…” Steve groaned as he pulled open the door, the song echoing through the PA system.

“Who will campaign door to door for America? Carry the flag shore to shore for America? From Hoboken to Spokane? The Star Spangled Man with a plan!”

Clint and Natasha were stood, poised at the table, both wearing identical looks of astonishment on their faces. They turned to Katie and Steve as they walked into the room, the song still playing.

“We can't ignore there's a threat and a war we must win! Who'll hang a noose on the goose-stepping goons from Berlin?”

“I’m assuming this means Cap is the first of us to fall victim to Stark?” Clint asked, his lips quirking into a smile.

“Who will indeed lead the call for America? Who'll rise or fall, give his all, for America?”

“Please tell me it isn’t going to go through a full rendition…” Steve sighed, dropping into a chair.

“Who's here to prove that we can? The Star Spangled Man with a plan!”

Silence. The 4 of them waited with bated breath, but thankfully it had stopped.

“Just the first two verses…” Katie said, sitting next to him. “Suppose we should be grateful.” “Kiddo, you’re as much of a sneak as Tony…” Clint looked at her, as Thor walked into the room. “How come you’ve never managed to get him back?”

“He’s too smart.” she sighed, “I’ve tried and tried before. It doesn’t help that he has JARVIS either, watch this…JARVIS?”

“Yes Miss Stark?”

“Has my brother got an alert going for you to warn him if we try and prank him?” “I couldn’t possibly comment Miss Stark, on whether or not your brother has an alert set up to warn him if you attempt to tamper with any of his equipment…”

Normally she would chuckle at the AIs tone but she was too frustrated with her brother and the seeming lack of loopholes in any of his instructions she could exploit. She leaned back in her chair and gave a huff “See?”

“I could just shock him with some lightning?” Thor suggested

“Think that’s a little harsh.” Steve sighed. 

“See if you still think that by the end of the day when every time you open a door that song starts.” Natasha looked at him.

“What, you think…” Steve looked at her and then gave a groan. “It’s not just gonna be the one door is it?”

_____

Tony, watching the events unfold on the display in the safety of his office cackled. “Of course it isn’t just one door…” _______

Prank 2.

Bruce was sincerely hoping that whatever inevitable prank Tony was going to pull on him that the Billionaire had been sensible enough not to shock him so far that the Hulk erupted. Bruce had a pretty good hold on him, so he wasn’t too worried but still, you never know.

He made it to his lab in one piece, opened the door and stopped dead.

In front of him on the floor, for about 2 metres square were cups of water. And they were positioned hat close together that there was no space for him to step over in any direction without them spilling all over the floor. Which meant he couldn’t get into the room. Had it been anyone else, they would probably have simply kicked them over, but not Bruce. He was always paranoid about the liquid seeping through the floors and down onto the machinery which looked after the Iron Legion. 

So if he was going to get into the lab, he was going to have to move them one cup at a time. 

“Damned you Tony!” he said with a loud, exasperated sigh “JARVIS? I need a bucket…”

_______

Tony, watching the events unfold on the display in the safety of his office cackled. “Good luck finding one Brucey…”

_______

Prank 3.

“I don’t think there’s much else to go on…” Steve sighed as the rest of the team finished looking over the plans “We need to get out there and do a recon really.“

“We prepping for another mission then, Cap?” Clint looked at him. Steve took a deep breath and nodded.

“I don’t think we have an alternative.” 

“Ok, well, if we get everything ready we can go at first light tomorrow.” Natasha suggested “I’ll get onto the British Authorities, let them know we’re planning on coming.” “Get Hill onto it” Katie suggested “She’ll go through the UN.”

With that an alert sounded on her phone and she looked down at it. “I gotta go take a conference call but I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Steve nodded to her as she stood up and left the room. She made it to her office, safely and swung the door open, pausing just to make sure nothing fell from the door frame. She darted through, took a look round and everything seemed to be in order.

Suspecting Tony of most likely sabotaging her computer or screen, she sat down on her chair and a loud horn sounded causing her to scream and involuntarily he entire body jumped, and her chair toppled backwards. She went with it, arms and legs flailing and she hit the floor with a crash.

After taking a moment to sort herself out she stood up, and looked at the bottom of her chair. There was an Airhorn strapped to the main leg which mean as soon as she had sat down, it would push the handle causing it to sound.

“I know you’re watching this you fucker!” she yelled, spinning round to the CCTV camera and flicking it off “I hate you!”

_____ Tony, watching the events unfold on the display in the safety of his office cackled. “Nice fall Kiddo…”

_______

Prank 4.

Given that there was nothing else to do, Natasha decided to head to the gym, as she did every Tuesday morning, to practice Pilates. It was a routine she tried not to break as it helped her keep supple and relax. Katie sometimes joined her, and surprisingly so did Steve. He said it helped keep his mind clear. 

She knew that the routine made her an easy target for one of Stark’s pranks, but she was damned if he was going to catch her out. She was one of the world’s best spies, no way was he going to get her with some stupid, childish trick.

She entered the room and glanced up and around, checking the corners, you name it. Satisfied that no one was going to jump out at her, and even if they did, she’d floor them- more fool you, Stark, she leaned up against the bench and stretched her legs out.

“Who's strong and brave here to save the American Way? Who vows to fight like a man for what's right, night and day?”

She spun to see Steve shaking his head as he made his way into the room in his gym gear

“You joining me or hitting the bag?” she asked as they both tried to ignore the song as it continued ringing from the speakers.

“Joining you if that’s ok?” he said, “I went for a run this morning so…” “Sure.” she nodded, and as the song finally stopped they made their way to the store cupboards, picking out their mats. Natasha picked her favoured one, and lay it down on the floor.

As soon as she stepped on it there was a loud popping noise, like a gun going off, and she jumped backwards, dropping to the floor by instinct. 

“Nat…” Steve said, a smile tugging at his lips “It’s ok, it’s not a gun.” Angrily she stood up, stalked over to the mat and pulled it up off the floor. She examined it a little before she gave a snort.

“Bastard!” she exclaimed, slipping her hand into a small, almost invisible hole on the underside. She pulled out a tiny little firecracker, the type that kids used to throw on the floor in front of someone to make a loud bag. “He’s filled my mat with these!” 

______

Tony, watching the events unfold on the display in the safety of his office cackled. “Even Super Spies get fooled, Romanoff…”

_______

Prank 5 and 6.

Later that day the team met in the common room for lunch. Steve already had a headache from that damned song following him every time he opened a door, Katie was sporting quite a sore elbow after falling harshly on the floor, Bruce was pissed as it had taken him a good hour to get rid of the cups of water, and Natasha was seething at the fact she’d been caught out too.

“I don’t know how you’ve put up with it for your entire life.” Clint said to Katie as he opened the fridge, pulling out a can of his favoured Dr Pepper. He grabbed a glass and a few ice cubes, the way he always like his soda and walked over to where they were all sat on the sofas with various lunch items on the coffee table. He poured the soda into the glass and set it on the table.

“Yeah well, you better be careful.” Katie said “You too Thor, there’s no way he hasn’t set one up for you both.” “I am mighty Little Stark.” Thor grinned, nursing a plate of his favoured chocolate and sugar covered strawberries he had snaffled from a tray in the fridge “it will take more than…” “SHIT!” Clint exclaimed, and with a loud yell they all jumped back as the soda in his glass was exploding over the top with such veracity it was showering them all in the sticky drink. As Steve and Natasha headed to grab some paper towels, Katie marched over to the freezer and yanked out the ice dispenser tray.

“He’s put fucking Mentos in the ice cubes!” she said with a shake of her head. “Jesus Christ…” “You gotta hand it to him.” Bruce sighed, wiping his glasses off on his shirt 

“I’d like to hand it to him.” she mumbled, “with my fist closed.” Thor gave a chuckle and popped a strawberry in his mouth, before he gave a grimace, gagged and spat it back out onto the plate.

“That’s…” he stood up, nearly pushing Steve over in his attempt to get to the sink. 

Katie watched him as he grabbed a glass of water and filled it from the tap. 

“What...” Natasha looked at Bruce who was examining a piece of the fruit, holding it in front of his nose.

“Salt…” Thor mumbled as he rinsed his mouth out “It isn’t sugar, its salt. He put salt on my Chocolate Sugar Fruit!”

_____

Tony, watching the events unfold on the display in the safety of his office cackled. “Ice Ice baby... not so mighty after all Thunder God.”

_______

*******

“We have to get him back…” Natasha grumbled as they all sat in Katie and Steve’s apartment, having retreated to the relative safety as their living quarters were the one place there was no CCTV, and Katie had the authority to banish JARVIS from earwigging. (Tony had learnt that lesson one day after hearing something he really didn’t want to hear…)

“Believe me I’ve tried.” Katie sighed “And you heard J before, anyone tampers with his equipment and…” She stopped dead. That was it. That was the loophole. With a smirk she looked round the assembled faces. Steve arched an eyebrow at her, he knew that look very well.

“What you thinking?” he asked and she grinned at them all.

“Ok, listen up.” she said, leaning forward. “I have an idea...”

They listened attentively, Clint and Natasha sharing a grin as she outlined her plan whilst Thor slapped his thigh with glee. Steve leaned back in his chair and looked at Banner who was also smiling ear to ear.

“That might just work.” The Doctor said “It’s a pretty good loophole, and we have the stuff in the lab so…” “I’ll need a distraction.” Katie said, “something that’s gonna draw Tony out of his office for long enough for me to do it but…” “That’s easy.” Thor said, “I’m sure I can cause a good deal of noise in the Training Facility, break a few things with my hammer…”

“Fry something.” Steve said, looking round “If you do that then JARVIS won’t be able to fix it remotely, Tony’s gonna have to get his hands dirty.”

“You all know what you’re doing?” Katie grinned as everyone nodded. “Ok, Avengers, let’s do this…“

Operation Payback.

Tony heard the bang seconds before JARVIS spoke

“Mr Stark…”

“What the hell was that?”

“There’s been an incident in the Training Suite.”

“Course there has…” Tony rolled his eyes in exasperation at how stupid they thought he was. He wasn’t falling for a distraction like that. “Where is everyone?” “Miss Stark, Agent Romanoff and Agent Barton are in the shooting range.” Jarvis informed them. Doctor Banner was in his lab, although it appears he is now making his way down to the Training Facility to find out what’s going on. Captain Rogers is already there as is Thor.”

“What’s the incident?”

“It appears Thor has struck the speakers and the access pad with a bolt of lightning.” JARVIS replied “I’m currently assessing the damage but as a result he is locked in. And he isn’t happy.” Tony gave an exasperated groan and pushed his chair from his desk. “Suppose I best go see if I can help…remember what I said, anyone comes in here and tampers with my equipment…” “Of course, Sir…”

When Tony arrived Thor was kicking the door to the training facility, waving his hammer irately.

“Thor!” Steve was stood by the glass, attempting to calm him down. “Don’t buddy, we’ll get you out of there…” “I can get myself out…” Thor blazed, raising his hand and Tony blanched at the fact Thor was threatening to send his hammer straight through the wall. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for the walls and glass to get damaged but they’d only just had it replaced after Steve and Thor had been practicing using Steve’s shield and Mjolnir to cause an outwards blasting shockwave. 

“What’s going on?” Tony asked, and Steve spun to him shooting him a glare.

“I’ll tell you what’s going on…” Thor roared “That infernal song…”

His hammer crackled ominously again and Tony looked back to Steve.

“He was fed up of hearing Star Spangled Man With A Plan ringing out every goddamned time I opened a door.” Steve folded his arms “So he lost his temper. And I can’t say I blame him.” “We’ve talked about this.” Tony looked at Thor “You need to use your words buddy…” “Words, I’ll give you more than words, Stark!” Thor roared “Now get me out of here!”

“JARVIS?” Tony asked, looking at the pad on the door. “Damage report?”

“The Circuit is completely fried Sir.” JARVIS said “I cannot access or override, you will need to do it manually.”

“Great…” Tony mumbled “Let me just go get my tools from the lab.” Mumbling to himself he set off down the corridor and once he was gone, Thor grinned and tossed his hammer in the air as he gave Steve and Banner the thumbs up before he caught it expertly again in his right hand.

“Good job!” Steve nodded with a smile as he pulled his phone out and dialled Katie quickly. “You’re up.” 

****

It took Tony roughly 30 minutes to replace the wires and unlock the door. Thor stormed out, pushed him harshly in the chest before he left down the corridor.

“Guess they don’t have April Fools’ day on Asgard.” Tony mumbled, rubbing at the front of his shirt.

“To be honest Tony, it’s pretty annoying.” Bruce sighed “Can you at least turn it off now, I mean its almost 2 in the afternoon.” “Yeah I suppose…” Tony sighed, before he grinned “it was a pretty good one though, right.” “Hilarious.” Steve deadpanned, his hands falling to his belt buckle. Tony flashed him a grin and a shrug before he gathered up his tools and made his way back down the corridor.

“JAR?”

“Yes Sir.”

“Turn off Prank Spangles will you, before anyone else breaks more of my tower.”

“Right away Sir.” “And I’m assuming from the lack of contact no one’s been in my office tampering with my equipment?” “That’s correct sir.” “Today has been a good day.” Tony grinned to himself.

Once he was back in his office he sat down at his chair, and went through his emails quickly. He absentmindedly scratched at his beard, which felt a little dry to be honest. But he hadn’t oiled it since that morning. Reaching into his drawer he grabbed the small bottle, tipped a good amount onto his hand and spread it across the expertly groomed whiskers before he continued with his work. It took him a few hours but he cleared his inbox and then decided it was time to face the music. Heading down to the common room he found the rest of the team lounging in front of the TV. They were watching Kitchen Nightmares. 

“S’up Kids?” he asked and none of them looked at him. “Ok, alright, I know…sorry if I pranked you but if I buy takeout will that make you forgive me?”

No answer.

“Oh come on!” Tony said, crossing the room, sinking into a spare arm chair. “I’ll get Thai…"

The team exchanged glances before Bruce gave a sigh. He was always the one to cave first, the mild mannered Scientist found it hard to stay outwardly angry, which was ironic when anyone thought about it.

“To be fair, that trick with the water was pretty clever.” he shrugged.

“Yeah, and I suppose the salt strawberries were a little amusing.” Thor said, looking at Katie.

She shrugged, her feet resting in Steve’s lap as he was gently running his fingers up and down her calf.

“Oh come on Kiddo…”  Tony sighed, flopping onto an arm chair.  

“Payback’s a bitch…and so are you.”  she said simply, still not looking at him.

“You’ve never managed to get me back yet.” Tony snorted.

At that point he noticed that Natasha and Clint exchanging smirks. 

“What?”

“Nothing.” Clint said, shaking his head.

“I like your beard” Thor said, grinning “I have always admired how you keep it so neat and groomed. Maybe I should trim mine the same way.” Tony frowned. “Oh is this the part where you pin me down and shave it?” he rolled his eyes “You know I can call my suit to me in like 5 seconds flat.” “We know.” Steve said simply, looking at him. Tony’s frown deepened. The way the Captain’s blue eyes were shining with mirth made him uncomfortable.

He looked round as 6 pairs of eyes were all completely focussed on him now before Katie cracked up laughing.

“I’m sorry, I can’t…I can’t hold…” her laughter grew more and more as she threw her head back against the arm of the sofa “You look ridiculous…” Tony frowned and without a word stood up from the chair and made his way to the bar to glance in the mirrored surface between the shelves.

Oh. Holy. Jesus.

His goatee. His beautiful goatee...was blonde.

He spun round and the rest of the guys in the room cracked up laughing. Steve had his head thrown back, right hand clutching at his chest as Katie wiped tears from her face whilst Natasha doubled over on her seat. Besides her Clint slapped his thigh, his chuckles loud.

“What…how…” Tony spluttered, looking again at his reflection, before he glared back at the group.

“Slipped a little peroxide in your beard oil…” Katie managed to stutter between laughs, Thor’s loud rumbles continued, punctuated every now and then by a snort from Banner.

“JARVIS!” Tony roared “I told you to tell me if anyone went into my office, or the garage, or anywhere in the tower messing with my stuff…” "I take zero responsibility for this...sir” The AI responded “And I believe your instruction was to alert you if anyone entered your office or the garage or anywhere in the tower and messed with your equipment. Technically Miss Stark didn't touch your equipment, only your Male grooming product. I believe they exploited a loophole.” That made the group laugh even harder as Tony went bright red, spluttering obscenities at JARVIS. Eventually he calmed down and sighed, before he glanced at his sister.

“You know I’m almost proud…” he said, shaking his head. “Almost…”

Katie gave him a wink in response. “You know what they say…you can’t kid a kidder, or in this case Kiddo…”

Tony gave a groan which turned into a resigned chuckle. He could always dye it back...

Yes, April Fools’ day was still Tony Stark’s favourite time of year.

@the-omni-princess​  @momobaby227​ @geekofmanythings16​ @angelofhell-666​ @thewackywriter​ @marvelfansworld​​  @cobalt-gear​  @asgardlover75​ @jennmurawski13​​​  @jtargaryen18​​ @saiyanprincessswanie​​  @navispalace​​ @patzammit​​  @joannaliceevans-fanficblog​​  @icanfeelastormbrewing​​ @djeniiscorner​​  @ayamenimthiriel​​  @coldmuffinbanditshoe​​  @disneylovingal​​ @madzmilllz​  @sgtjaamesbaarnes​

[sabraeal]

Rarely Pure & Never Simple, Chapter 5

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Obiyuki Week, Day 5 Wrath | Patience

By May, Shirayuki has been at Clarines High -- that’s what they call it, no matter whose name is above the entrance, for reasons no one has been able to explain to her -- for eight months, and she’d be hard-pressed to name a single thing Tanbarun Academy could hold over it, except, well...

The backpack ban.

(”It’s not that hard to get around,” Kihal tells her, picking at the pastrami in her sub.

“You can just get a messenger bag,” Obi adds around the remains of his Mayflower. Why someone would want stuffing in a sandwich, Shirayuki will never quite know, but from how baggy his band tees are, he could probably use the calories. “You know, the rind is what has all the flavor.”

“I don’t want the flavor, I want prosciutto, but some people don’t know there’s more than one deli meat with a ‘p.’“

Obi shrugs a shoulder, unapologetic. “We don’t have fancy sliced ham where I come from. If you want pork you have to stab the pig yourself.”

“Oh please.” Kihal’s eyelashes flutter as she rolls her eyes, and it strikes her -- Kihal is flirting. With Obi. “As if you’ve ever seen a pig.”

“I’ve seen them on the side of a can,” he says, all smiles, and Kihal sighs, not even noticing how he’s -- he’s not joking. Shirayuki can’t say she knows Obi much more than she knows anyone here, but --

But she knows what it’s like when you don’t want to talk about hard stuff. Real stuff. Not when everyone around you asks about what you did for your Sweet Sixteen, still.

“See?” Kihal jerks a thumb at him. “If this idiot can figure it out, you can too.”

Shirayuki glances between them, first at Kihal’s flat look and then Obi’s bemused one. “But messenger bags are so bad for your spine!”)

English book? Check. A Tale of Two Cities? Check. Her English notebook, with the three-ring binder definitely, for real closed and not about to spill out onto the floor? Check. Pencil case, with all her writing utensils, including the highlighters? Check.

Shirayuki hefts her haul up, arms quivering, and lets out a satisfied sigh. Sure, Obi may call this doubling down on a bad idea, but life’s too long for scoliosis --

“Ms Leon?” A tall shadow falls across her desk, and even if she weren’t still in his classroom, Shirayuki would know it was Mr Haruka from sternness alone. “Stay after class, if you would.”

She jolts upright, a good eight of her fifteen smooth-glide, fine-tipped journal pens -- all different colors, because who can properly color-code with only black, blue and red, for goodness’ sake -- spill right out on the floor. Ah, she forgot to do the Closed Pencil Case check.

“Y-yes, sir!” She looks him right in the eyes, but they give away nothing, and all she can think is -- plagiarism. She somehow forgot that she read something on the internet, put it in her last essay, and now she’s going to get expelled, barely a month before she graduates --

“Ms Leon.” His mouth curls, just the smallest bit, right at one corner. “Please breathe. And do pick up your writing implements.”

“Oh, yes, um.” She hurries to put the pens back in their case, taking surreptitious glances at his Oxfords. “Sorry, that’s -- important. Breathing, I mean.”

She can’t see his face but she could swear -- swear -- he laughs. Just under his breath, the lightest chuckle. “Over this way, if you please.”

She looks up, following his arm until she realizes -- his desk. He’s pointing at his desk. And the small chair to one side of it. “Oh.”

“Shirayuki.” Her eyes jump to him, and -- oh, yes. Mr Haruka is definitely laughing at her. “You’re not in trouble. I promise.”

“Oh, right.” She lets out a giggle that is awkward, too high-pitched to be anything but pure nerves. “Of course not. Why would I be in trouble? I mean--”

“Just sit, Shirayuki.” He takes the chair behind his desk, shaking his head. “We have a lot to talk about.”

“Valedictorian?” she squeaks. “You’re telling me I’m valedictorian?”

“No! No.” Mr Haruka waves his hands gently, neck swiveling toward the door, as if that might make her words softer, as if he could stop the sound from leaving the room. “We don’t...do those things here. Because of the children.”

His tone makes it very clear that he is not so worried about the children as the administration is.

“Metrics like that might hurt more the fragile eg-- feelings of our students.” His mouth pulls into a grimace. “So we no longer...rank our high achievers. Instead, we invite the top one percent of our senior class to submit a speech. Which is what I’m doing right now. Inviting you to submit one.”

She stares. “But...I only started at Clarines this year. No one could possibly--”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Ms Leon.” His hands fold neatly on top of his desk calendar, which is all she can look at, because she knows -- she knows if she looks at him when he says what he’s going to say next -- “Your experience is just as valuable and important as anyone’s here, and if you -- my god, are you crying?”

“No,” she sniffs, but hot tracks already burn down her cheeks. He thrusts out a fistful of tissues from the box on his desk, staring at the wall like if he doesn’t look, it can’t possibly be happening. “Maybe.”

“Just...clean yourself up,” he tells her, stern, but when she glances up, he’s blushing. “As I was saying, your grades put you at the top of the class, and even if you’ve only been here a year, clearly you’ve made your mark.”

“Thank you,” she manages, little more than a squeak. “But I still think--”

“And unlike your other classmates, you’re literate,” Haruka tells the wall, as if she’s hardly there. “And you’re a good thinker. Your essays are concise and show more original thought than most any I’ve seen in twenty years of teaching. Besides --” his eyes dart back to her, mouth twitching at the corner -- “the kids say that if you’re the Honor Society Advisor’s favorite student, you’re a shoe-in to be picked.”

She blinks. “But, sir. You’re the advisor for the Honor Society.”

His mouth quivers. “Yes, Shirayuki, I am.”

“But...” Her jaw snicks shut. “Oh. Oh.”

“They’re due at the end of next week,” he tells her. “But you can drop it off on my desk as early as Monday. That is, if you’d like--”

“Yes. I mean, I will.” She jumps up, chair screeching across the tile. “Monday.”

He settles back in his chair, concern flitting across his features. “You know, you can’t take your time--”

“Don’t worry,” she tells him with a smile. “I’ll have it perfect.”

She’s halfway home when she feels the buzz in her pocket, and guilt nearly drags her under when her notification screen light’s up with Obi’s smiling portrait.

(”Did you crop this?” Obi’s grin is too wide for safety, and far too close.

“Y-yes!” His breath is hot on her neck, but she is going to finish this essay if it kills her. Which it might, if he keeps on looking at her like -- like that. “I can’t just --” words abandon her -- “have that show up, when my grandparents are around.”

His grin only turns more wicked. “Really? I think Nanna might appreciate--”

“Well, you could certainly ask her, since she got a real eyeful the last time you were over.” Shirayuki had expected a revision of the six-inch rule for her door, but instead Nanna had only smiled and told her, some things can just stay between us girls.

His eyes pulse wide. “It’s just my chest, kid. Not like I sent you a dick --”

“Please,” she squeal, covering her face. “Don’t.”)

Hey babe, it reads, and her stomach flips, just the smallest bit. Just wanted 2 remind u that i was hanging with Zen n every1 tonight.

Her mental calendar clicks into place, and she realizes -- Friday. It’s Friday. He has his usual pick-up game with friends, and she spends the night studying. Unless she goes with him, but even though things are fine between her and Zen -- good, even -- she doesn’t need to rub all this in his face. Especially when he’s hoping for a good time with his friends.

And if tonight’s Friday...

That’s fine. I have something I need to do this weekend. See you on Monday!

Instead of studying -- which she should do, really; finals are coming up in another week -- she spends the night googling things like best graduation speeches, and best HIGH SCHOOL graduation speeches, and best high school graduation speeches by new students not funny. After her nine or tenth compilation video she cuts herself off.

Three days to write a speech. It has to be short, but not too short; sweet, but not saccharine; and funny. Which she can’t do, so she’ll just settle for poignant instead.

With a few short taps, her phone is silenced. No interruptions. Just a weekend with her and a word processor, hoping something like wisdom comes out.

She can do this.

“Shirayuki?”

She startles, and it’s only Nanna’s hand that keeps her from face-planting right into the carpet. She’d fallen asleep, right here at the desk, and --

The speech.

Her neck swivels so fast it makes a painful crack, but there it is, on the screen --

“Oh my gosh,” she breathes. “It’s gibberish.”

“You were on the keyboard, dear,” Nanna sighs, leaning over her. She clicks the cursor and drags all the way up the screen, scrolling past almost three pages of nonsense to --

“Oh, oh!” She grips the edge of the desk. “It’s all there. It’s done!”

“Good girl.” Nanna pats her head, giving her a good scritch at the crown, like she always does. “But Obi’s on the horn.”

“The--?” She blinks, looking up at the cordless cradled against her cardigan. “He called the house?”

“He called the house,” Nanna agrees, very slow, like she’s afraid the implication might miss her. “And he sounds like he’s in a state.”

“Why wouldn’t he just call--?” Shes click her phone on, and the face of it proudly proclaims Obi: 12 missed calls, followed by a run of cut-off text messages. “Oh no.”

She holds her hand out, and Nanna drops the receiver into it. “Obi? Is something -- is something wrong?“

He lets out a laugh but it sounds -- ragged. “I don’t know, is there?”

She blinks. “Should I know?”

“Shirayuki.” His voice is tight, tense. “You haven’t talked to me since Thursday.”

“What? But I--?” She clamps down hard as she looks at their texts.

That’s fine. I have something I need to do this weekend. See you on Monday! still sits above her keyboard, unsent. Above it is, well --

hey is everything okay? kid is something up? you arent picking up your phone. please call me are you angry at me?

She blinks at that one. What could she possibly --

Oh no. Thursday.

(The applause is still rolling from the Daily Double, but Shirayuki can barely remember what the answer is, let alone the question when Obi’s touching her like this, his skirt up around her hips and his fingers deep inside her.

“It better not be College Jeopardy,” Lata calls out from the foyer, door closing behind him, but it’s too late, far too late to do more than stare as he walks into the room, face screwed up in annoyance. “I refuse to watch another night that makes the New York Times crossword look like a Gordian--”

Obi’s back is to him, so it’s Shirayuki that sees his gaze fall on it, then on the shirt discarded on the coffee table and the panties on the carpet, little banana splits smiling up at the plaster ceiling, and at last on the GWU shirt on the latest contestant before he turns on his heel and walks right of the room.)

please call me. we can work this out i promise i can do better

“Oh my gosh, Obi,” she breathes. There’s more but she -- she can’t look at that. Not right now. “I’m so sorry. I thought I had -- my text didn’t send!”

The silence from his end is deafening. “Your what?”

“I’ve been working on a project all weekend,” she admits, voice shaking. “And I silenced my phone so I could, you know, avoid distractions. I just -- I thought I pressed send, but I didn’t, and I’m -- I’m so sorry!”

There’s a pause, and then he must have put his phone down because she can hear him roaring with laughter, just...muted.

“Kid, kid,” he breathes, louder this time, brighter. “You are...something else.”

She’s glad he can’t see her, because he’d definitely call this painful red cute. “I...I guess.”

“Well?” She can almost see his eyebrows raising. “Did you finish?”

“Oh! Yes!” She spins, clicking at the doc. “I’m -- I’m just printing it out now.”

“So...” His voice slides straight into that easy purr, the one that makes her thighs clench just thinking about it. “...You don’t need to avoid distractions anymore?”

Even with all -- that, she still nearly says, I guess not, as if she hasn’t picked up his subtle hints, but her brain catches up quicker than her mouth. She snaps her teeth over the words, giving herself a breath to think.

“Finals are next week,” she says carefully, watching the door. She can’t see Nanna, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t lurking in the hall, waiting to catch her. “You need to study, don’t you?”

His grin is practically audible. “Come over here. Lyrias’s finals are this week, so Lata left early.”

She presses her thighs together, and -- three days. It’s been three days.

“I’ll be over in a bit,” she tells him, all in a rush. “Make sure you come up with a study plan.”

“Oh, trust me,” he rumbles. “I know exactly what I’m going to do.”

“All right, my worst subject is gonna be English, because I forcibly forgot Catcher in the Rye, and now I gotta relearn it,” Obi tells her, and -- and he whips out a piece of paper, written in no less than five colors, and drops it in her lap. “But after that is chem. I don’t know shit about how orbitals work.”

“Oh!” She stares down, squinting at the chicken scratch that is just barely more legible than usual. Never has she been less excited by color-coding. “You actually...you actually made a plan.”

“These are the last set of finals I’m ever going to take in high school,” he tells her, teeth flashing behind his lips. “Hopefully. So I gotta -- gotta make it good right?”

I thought you wanted to make out, sits right on the tip of her tongue, but she looks at him, grinning at her so hard it crinkles his eyes, finally excited and she --

“Right.” She takes out her own, and props them side-by-side on his night table, edges curling in on one another. “Let’s get to work then.”

There’s a flaw in her plan.

Her palms sweat around the folder she holds in them, fingers sticking with an awkward squich as she taps them on the plastic. She had plans for today. Big plans. Plans that involved a mirror and a red pen, but now --

“Obi.”

He looks up from his notes, bubbly p-bonds blooming across the page, and her breath catches right in her chest. It’s soft yet -- yet hungry, molten and knowing, and it’s exactly how he looks right before he kisses her.

Shirayuki can ignore that though. She has -- business.

“Mm?” he hums, and that -- that’s trouble right there, the way he leans in smelling all nice --

Focus! Focus. That’s what she needs to do. “I need you to help me with something.”

This isn’t a good idea, not when this is the first time they’ve had time to be alone, just the two of them, in days, but -- it’s important.

His mouth curls, and oh, maybe she needs to be a little clearer about what she means by help --

“Well, kid?” he rumbles, leaning his chin on his hand. “I’m all ears.”

There isn’t enough air in this room.

That -- that’s the problem here. It’s got to be almost eighty out there, and sure, Lata’s house has central air, but Obi’s just...covered up a vent. That’s why she’s sweating, gasping for each breath like she’s run uphill; that’s why she’s so light-headed she could faint, not --

“Oh, god,” Shirayuki moans, clutching at his back, skin slick beneath her fingertips. “Please...”

-- Not anything to do with what he’s doing between her legs. Oh no, all this quivering just -- just because they need to open a window.

“What was that?” Obi rumbles, grinning against her neck. He lifts her hips, just a little, so that her ass tilts up on his knees, and then he slides his fingers deeper, just where she wants them --

“Holy--”

“I can’t hear you,” he says, too innocent, nipping right at the curve of her jaw. His hand stills, just short of where she needs him. “Maybe you don’t like--?”

Her fingers band around his wrist, showing him just what she’d like. Still he doesn’t do the -- the thing; touching her like this is all fine and good, but sometimes he does this...fluttery thing inside, and she --

“Did you want this?” he asks, half-breathless, and his fingers move. Stars bloom in her vision, bright against the black of her eyelids, and --

Well, she doesn’t have any complaints about it, that’s for sure.

“Stop teasing.” she pants, hips raising to chase his hand. “Just--”

Oh, it’s -- it’s very hard to keep any sort of thoughts in his head while he’s -- he’s doing things.

“Teasing?” It’s an inquisitive rumble right above her heart, eyebrows lifting in the worst impression of surprise she’s ever seen. “I can’t do what you want if you don’t tell me what you need...”

“You’re doing just -- haaah -- fine on your own,” she assures him, back arching off the bed.

“I need encouragement.”

She lifts her head, and the look he gives her is, well -- trouble. “I’m not going to -- to --”

“Scream?” he offers, curling his fingers in a way that makes that seem like a more probably eventuality than it did a minute ago. “I don’t see why not.”

Her face is already flushed from -- from things, but she feels it go darker, chest practically burning up. “What if -- if -- Lata--”

She can’t even finish the thought. She knows far too well what would happen. It will be nothing short of a miracle if she ever manages to look him in the eye again.

“Lata is hours away,” he tells her, lifting his head so that honeyed gaze can bear down into hers, “and you’ll be living in a dorm room soon. So you should take advantage--” he grins as she gasps, his fingers touching her just where he needs him -- “of the fact.”

She means to argue the point, really she does, but he wraps and arm around her waist, lifting her upright into his lap, and -- well, she gives him exactly what he wants.

“Hnn-aah.” Knees jellied, thighs quivering still, Shirayuki tips back with a sigh, Obi’s mattress catching her better than she can her breath.

“Well.” His fingers shimmer with -- with her as he raises them, giving them a thoughtful glance. It’s all for show; she knows before he even moves that he’ll wrap his lips around them, sucking off her taste as if he can’t get enough.

It doesn’t stop her helpless whine when they disappear into his mouth, long lashes fluttering against his cheek. It’s not fair that he looks so good doing -- doing that. “Obi!”

“I liked it.”

For a long minute, she stares, halfway to saying, I know you did, but --

“Oh!” She laughs, shaking her head on his pillow. It smells like him, fresh and earthy. “The speech! Were you even listening?”

“Of course.” He looks almost affronted that she doubts it. “I obviously found it inspiring.”

He settles beside her, his front pressed to her side, and his -- his dick pokes her hip, as if it’s proving his point. Which, all right, it kind of is, but -- but that’s beside the point.

“I should have known better.” She rolls up onto her side, letting it dig into her belly, and she just catches the slight flutter of his eyelashes, the hitch in his breath. “It’s been three days. Expecting you to focus was a big ask.”

“I did focus.” His hips squirm, rubbing up against hers. Her panties are -- well, somewhere, and his fly is open for comfort and she -- she’s a little distracted. By his grin, that was the plan. “I’m still very focused.”

“I get it, I get it,” she laughs, leaning into his chest, closing the space between them with a kiss. It’s quick, affection rather than desire, but every kiss with Obi turns into something that lingers, that leaves her a little breathless when she pulls away. “But really, did you--?”

“I loved it, kid, really.” He leans his forehead against hers, rubbing noses with a grin. “I wasn’t just thinking about whether you had tights on or not.”

She lets her silence do the talking on that one. Mostly because if she said anything, it would come out less like, I appreciate your attraction, but I am more than just what’s between my legs, and more like, I plan what I wear depending on whether or not I think we’ll have time to fool around.

Shirayuki bites back a sigh. I would be nice if all her feminist ideology didn’t crumble the second he looked at her.

His smile softens, fingers reaching out to tuck some errant flyaways behind her ear. “You did great, kid. They’ll love it.”

She leans into his touch, just the littlest bit, and maybe --

Maybe the reason she doesn’t feel like she has to aggressively remind him to respect her is because he already does.

“I especially liked that part about me.”

She’s already flushed, but her cheeks scale up to a five-alarm fire. “It wasn’t about you! It was about--”

“I know, I know, everyone you met here.” He smooths a hand over the top of her head, fingers trailing down to tangle at her nape and draw her close. Lips brush right between her brows, smoothing away the crinkle there. “Don’t worry, kid, I know I’m not the only important person in your life.”

Obi’s right, of course -- it’s not like she just emerged fully-formed from the ether at the beginning of senior year, just to be the girl he liked. She has her grandparents, and the few friends she’s kept from her old school, Zen and Kiki and Mistuhide, Kihal, Ryuu and Higata and the rest of the mathletes --

Wow, that’s a lot more people than she even thought.

But even still, there’s something in the way he says it, not even sad or resigned but -- but so certain he’s not anywhere at the top of the list and fine with it, that makes her blurt out, “Well, I mean, it is mostly about you.”

The flat of his teeth presses against her skin, and she doesn’t need to look at him to know how immensely pleased she’s made him, not when his -- his dick twitches, catching the underside of her belly.

“Do you need to--” even after all this time, she still doesn’t know quite how to ask -- “handle that?”

His eyebrows dip in confusion, and she wriggles her hips, not subtle in the least.

A laugh huffs out of him, his forehead slipping from hers to bury itself in the crook of her neck. She feels him shaking against her, but it takes her a good long minute to realize it’s a -- a shake. A no.

“No. Well--” she feels his lips curl against her skin, which is just doing nothing for her concentration right now -- “eventually. But it can wait.”

She opens her mouth to protest -- it’s not fair that she makes him wait on top of everything else -- but he just says, “I like being with you like this. You know, after.”

A breath catches tight in her chest. She does know; there’s something nice about him being close as she comes down, as the tingle fades from her body and leaves a bone-deep relaxation behind. Sometimes, when she lays there, trying to catch herself against his shoulder, she thinks about how nice it might be for there to be nothing between them, for their touches to be skin-to-skin and for him to be breathless too --

He lifts her arm up and lets it drop, boneless, to the bed. “You get all floppy. It’s really fucking cute.”

He mouth pulls thin, giving him the most forbidding glare she can dredge up, the most scolding she can do in silence --

And he pulls back, taking it in with a smile that is just -- fond. Content. His palm cups the back of her head, and he draws her close, tucking her head under his chin. He’s so close, so silent, that she can hear his heart beat in his chest, hear the breath fill and empty his lungs.

He’s too good to her.

Her fingers curl against his chest, skin still slick beneath them, and she has to take a moment to calm herself, to think, because it’s just -- a lot. So much.

She’s never dated anyone before, not even at her old school, but she knows that this is different. Zen never made her chest feel tight like this, like she’s too small in a single body, like even skin is too much of a barrier between them. That sometimes, if she tried hard enough, she wouldn’t even need to speak to have him know what she was thinking.

It’s intense. More than she thought, and if he were any other boy --

Well, if he were any other boy, he would already be in the bathroom, finishing himself off. If he were any other boy, he would have told her she needs to stop being so shy about dicks if she likes rubbing up against them so much.

But he doesn’t. It doesn’t even seem to bother him, which just -- it has to be fake.

Not that she’s complaining. It’s only --

Sure, it’s just about sex now. But she can’t help but wonder about if something was wrong -- really wrong -- whether he’d tell her or just -- do this, until he couldn’t stand it anymore. She’s good at reading him now, but what about when they don’t see each other every day, when she can’t just look at him to tell if there’s a problem--?

“How are we going to make this work?” she asks his throat, pulse racing against her lips.

He jerks against her like she’s yanked his strings. “What do you mean?”

“When I’m at Lyrias and you’re here.” She pushes back, just in time to see the fear in his eyes fade to concern, fade to certainty. “What if it’s not enough? What if--?”

“I’m going to visit.” He cards his fingers through her hair, the blunt edges of his nails scraping down her scalp in a way that’s nearly as soothing as his voice. “Remember? Once every two weeks, and I’ll stay the whole weekend, if your roommate doesn’t mind. And we can skype as much as you want. And I promise I’ll text you as obnoxiously as I do now.”

“So every two minutes?” she teases, leaning her forehead against his lips.

She can feel his smile against her hairline. “Mm, no. Too long. How about every minute?”

“Obi--”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” He squeezes her close. “Every five.”

Her hands are trapped against his chest, but she’s not above giving a good pinch. Even still, he just laughs, batting her hands away.

“I’m serious, Obi! We see each other every day, and then we just..won’t.” She squirms, tucking herself more firmly under his chin. It’s hard enough to say this out loud, never mind look at him while she’s doing it. “What if...what if...”

What if you get bored of me? She would never insult him by saying it, by implying that between them, he would somehow be the weak link, but -- it’s all she can think about. Hours away, only seeing her every two weeks, and who knows what time she’ll have outside of her course work to give him, and what time he’ll have with school and a job to give her --

Obi’s hand smooths down her back, broad and warm, and she just -- breathes.

“Shirayuki,” he says, her name rumbling fondly under her ear. “Haven’t I told you? You’re the only one who does it for me.”

She means to laugh, but it gasps out like wounded honk. “You can’t just keep saying that.”

“Why not?” For once, he sounds almost frustrated. “It’s true.”

It’s the earnestness that hurts. He’s so sure, and yet -- yet --

She wiggles her hips against his, feeling only the sharp jut of his pelvis. “It doesn’t feel like I’m doing it for you.”

Obi stares at her for a long moment, and then a laugh huffs out of him, his cheeks pink over bronze.

“Well, not right now.” His fingers drag against her scalp, burying themselves in the hair at her nape. “We’re having a serious conversation, I need all that blood. But give me a few minutes...”

The invitation is implicit, and she want to take it -- she means to take it, but --

She shakes her head. “One day you’ll meet a girl who isn’t afraid of penises, and then--”

“I’ve met plenty of girl who were very enthusiastic about penises.” His eyes meet hers as their foreheads touch. “And I still only want you.”

She lets out a sigh, closing her eyes. It would be nice to be able to believe that. “Be serious.”

“About you? Always.” For a breath he just lays there, head pressed against hers, but it doesn’t last. He shifts, pulling back, tilting her chin up so that their eyes meet. “Listen, I get that you haven’t done this whole long distance thing before. I haven’t either. I mean, fuck, kid, I haven’t really done this whole dating thing at all. I’m sure I’ll fuck up somewhere, but it won’t be by thinking the grass is greener on the other side, believe me.”

Her palms press flat against his chest, his heart racing beneath the, “Obi, I didn’t mean to--”

“But if you’re worried about us not being to do other stuff--” he waggles his eyebrows, making crystal clear just what sort of other stuff he’s talking about -- “we can always do skype sex.”

She stares, wondering if she’s having a stroke. “We can what?”

“You know.” His lips twitch. “When you skype each other, and then you watch each other get off.”

“I...” She blinks. “At the same time?”

“I’m mean, I’m a little fuzzy on the details here, but yeah.” His hand smooths down her spine, resting heavy just above her butt. It takes superhuman effort not to squirm back, not to press into it. “That’s typically how these things go.”

“And that...” She licks her lips, but her mouth is already dry. “That would work for you?”

He stiffens under her hands, eyes pulsing wide. “What, seeing you touch yourself? Getting all wet for me?” His hand urges her closer, and she can feel him hard against her thigh. “Watch you get all flushed because you’re hot for me? Think about how it could be me getting you that way, how I’d touch you to make you come?”

To her complete humiliation, she whimpers.

“Yeah,” he breathes, gazes fixed her hers. “I think that would work for me just fine.”

“O-oh,” she squeak, face burning. “Oh.”

His lips curl as he looks at her, as he leans close and rumbles, “Wouldn’t that work for you? Watching me touch myself, knowing I’m hard because you look so incredible when you come?”

Her nails scrape against his chest, earning her a hiss that is -- is not helping with the thinking, here.

That -- that might be okay. Seeings a penis not in person, but through a screen. Not that it’s really helped with google, but -- if it was Obi’s, if it was because she --

“Yes.” He twitches hard against her, and she ducks her head, flushed. “I mean, yes, but ...”

“But..?” he hums, too amused.

“I just...” I only there was a way to say these things without actually having to say them, like Obi does. Some innuendo that could make the problem clear without being so -- so obvious. “I’m not very good at, um, being alone. Like that.”

“Oh, really?” The hardness is impossible to ignore now. “Well, we have an entire summer, kid. Plenty of time for practice sets.”

“What, like summer school for m-m---” she grits her teeth--- “touching myself?”

“Why not?” His grin stretched across her temple. “You seem like the sort of girl who likes to get hot for teacher---”

Duchess Prettymane ends that particular vein of conversation.

“What have we said about you being nicer to your friends?” he says, catching Tiny Frog before he can join the pile surrounding Obi’s head. “If that doesn’t float on the motion of your ocean, I could always just get you a...graduation gift.”

For a long moment, she’s only confused; after all, she’s already looked in to getting him one, and it’s not like she was expecting one from him, but it wasn’t out of the realm of --

She catches his grin, the heat in his eye. Oh. Oh. Graduation gift. The kind she would not be opening in front of Grandad and Nanna.

“Obi!”

“What?” His grin is far too attractive, this close. “It would be very thoughtful. I would think very, very hard about what kind you might like--”

“Kind?” she yelps. “I thought there were, you know, just...sizes.”

“Oh, kid.” He bends close, lips brushing over hers. “Can’t start you off with some big dragon dick. Gotta work you up to it.” His hand skims over her hip, leaving a searing trail where each finger touches, lifting her leg to wrap around his waist. “I was thinking of one of those little egg ones, the king that just sit here--”

She whines at his touch, hips bucking against his as two of his fingers brush just over her clit. She came only a few minutes ago, but she’s wet again, hands clutching at his biceps as he moves those fingers just so --

“That,” she gasps, nails digging into his skin. “That might be okay.”

His jaw drops, eyes blowing wide, and --

Well, she loses a few minutes.

“All right,” he huffs, rolling away from her, fingers still slick. “This is definitely becoming a…ah….pressing issue.”

Her heart squeeze in her chest, but when she looks at him, he only gestures to where – where he is hard against his boxers, to a point that looks nearly painful.

“Oh!” She sits up. “Right.”

He gives her a weak smile. “If you would excuse me…”

He brushes past her getting off the bed, and for a moment she nearly stops him, nearly tells him to stay and pull off those jeans, to let her see him for once –

But she just presses her lips together and calls out, “Have fun?”

Obi tosses her a mischievous grin over his shoulder. “Oh, don’t worry, Kid. I plan to.”

[madscientistjournal]

Fiction: The Titan Through the Dust

An essay by Claire Gainsborough, as provided by Joachim Heijndermans Art by Leigh Legler

You’ve seen it. Everyone’s seen it. Kids know of it from their school books. It’s been on TV, in movies, and in every history book published in the years after the incident of Singapore City. Hell, even if you’ve never seen the actual shot, you’ll know it from the ripoffs and the parodies and the references by college kids trying to be artsy in their projects. Cultural osmosis, I think they call it. It’s a hell of a thing, to have your work be absorbed by the current zeitgeist and spat back out, like a cheesy meme passed around on Twitter, to the point that everyone around the world will instantly recognize your photo on sight, even if they have never heard your name.

And I gotta say, with the passage of time, I don’t know how I even feel about the shot anymore. For one thing, it’s been nearly twenty years since I aimed that camera, pressed my index finger down, and made a piece of history in a split second of time. So yeah, that part’s cool. But you’ll be hard pressed to find anyone familiar with any of my other work. Last year I had a book collection of my travel photography published in conjunction with Nat Geo. Sales were so-so. Biggest complaint? That shot wasn’t in it. That’s all that people want anymore. Kagemura, on the most devastating day of my life.

Is this what Eisenstaed felt like when he shot that photo of the VJ day in New York? I doubt it, because even if that kiss was forced and all that, it still had some sense of beauty to it. A joy was captured in that scene. My shot? It’s beautiful in its own terrifying way. But I just see the carnage. Carnage in blood, rubble, and dust. Absolute carnage.

~

This morning I got an offer to do the photography at a wedding. It’s a famous couple. You know them, I guarantee it, but I signed an NDA before I even met with them, so I can’t say much about it other than that the money is blasphemously great. Had I accumulated any, I could have paid back my college loan debts three times over. It’s insane. And do you know what they called me when they rang me up? Claire? Of course not. I was “that Kagemura lady.” They wanted that style for their reception. As in, that exact style. Happiest day of their life, but shot in a sepia tone and with the sun partially blocked. I said yes, obviously, as the KSF needs the cash more than I do. My best guess is they just didn’t realize people actually died when I took it.

I’m tired of talking about the shot in public, to be honest. Because that’s all that people discuss when the topic of my work comes up. The technique. The type of lens I used. The other dumb crap. And it’s so … what’s the word I’m looking for? Dull. Yeah, that’s it. It’s dull. It’s technical jargon and people standing around printouts of it with glasses of champagne in hand, each of them trying to find something new and profound to say about the photo. In the end, it’s just words. Words about a picture I took in the spur of the moment as I was half-suffocated by ash and grime.

Nobody ever asks what it was like, being there when it all came down. I think that’s why they’re all drawn to the photo. It’s a way to get close, but not too close to the actual awfulness of it all. The Disneyland version of it, where they can see the horrible monster without having to think about what it can do and what it did.

I want to talk about that day. What it was like. This is what happened on that day when I shot The Titan Through the Dust. My opus, I suppose.

~

Do people take gap years anymore? Or is that just a rich people thing these days? I swear, every time I talk to a student who either has never heard of a gap year, or worse, mentions they couldn’t afford it because they have student loans to pay back, it just reminds me again and again how I was born with a silver spoon up my ass. I love my mom and my dads, who really did their best to pool everything two orthodontists and a lawyer could scrape together to get their ditzy daughter through college pain-free, but boy howdy did they shield me from the realities of the world. Might be why it hit me as hard as it did when the earth literally opened up that day.

Anyway, I’m off topic. Back to the event.

I’d just graduated with my BA in programming and game design. Yeah, that’s right. Claire Gainsborough, the one whose book your mom has on the coffee table and who shot that photo you owned the poster of, wanted to make a career for herself in video game production. The art critics either tactfully neglect to mention that whenever they praise my photo work, or somehow bring up the supposed influence that “Banjo-Kazooie” on the N64 had on my choice of angle and lighting. I don’t know if any of that is true, as I only played it for about a week and a half during a retro-game bender in college, but whatever. To wrap it up, I graduated the course and had my fill of screens and code and engines after four years, so I chose to take a year to travel. I wanted to see the world and snap some pictures along the way to fill up a scrapbook or a blog or something. I never expected to go down in the history books as the next Joe Rosenthal, which only happened after my photo began circulating around the net and Nadaria, my agent, hooked me in and began to tour my shot, helping me realize I had a knack for a good photo. Lucky me, falling into a career like that.

I’ve often thought about going back into video games, make a simple platformer or an RPG with cute cartoon animals who save the world. But I just can’t seem to muster the drive to sit down and do it. I mean, making video games? After what I witnessed and lived through? It seems so quaint … no, childish even. How do I imagine the fantastical anymore? How can I create the illusion of power, when I’ve seen what real, actual raw ball-busting power looks like in the flesh? Now that I know what it feels like as it walks past you, too large to notice something as insignificant as me? What the air around it tastes like as it marches onward? How can anything compare? Well, I guess only Team Ico got close, and maybe those “God of War” guys, but still–

Wait, wasn’t I talking about gap years? Sorry. I got way off topic.

~

So, my gap year. The idea was that I’d backpack through Asia. Had a whole route planned out. I’d start in Jakarta and see all the Indonesian islands one by one (which I did in three weeks’ time). Then it would be on to Singapore, then Malacca, Kuala Lumpur, Krabi in Thailand, and so on up the peninsula and into the continent. My final stop would be in Wakkanai, the most northern spot on Hokkaido, Japan. It was going to be the experience of a lifetime. Just traveling, seeing the sights, taking selfies, and going out at night with whomever I met along the way. Food. Sun. Shots out of someone’s belly button. And maybe there’d be things that would go horribly wrong, and I would have had to wash dishes for a week to get my ticket out of there. Something I would vlog about and then do a book and the whole shebang. Then, twenty years down the line, they’d make a movie about it with someone who doesn’t look a thing like me, but is willing to look less pretty on screen for when the awards season rolls around. That’s where I was with my mind at the time. Just laughs, experiences and the idea of fame coming from my Asian trek.

I didn’t get that far, barely a quarter way of the journey. As you might guess, my third day in Singapore was the March the 23rd. The first Kagemura Ascendance. Day Zero.

What I did those first two days in Singapore is a haze for me now. I doubt anyone really remembers what they did on half their vacations down the line. But I’ll tell you this: everyone who was there can recall that day with near 100% accuracy. I guarantee it. What they had for lunch. Who they talked to. What clothes they put on that morning. All of it. Trust me on this one.

As for me? I was in the midst of an iced coffee and a croissant with an omelet and chives, which I’d told myself would be the only familiar food I’d eat that day (part of the whole “experience the local cuisine” thing I was going for). It was 10:32 AM on the dot, and breakfast was coming to a close in the dining area. I had my nose in my tablet … like, nose in the book, but I guess it doesn’t go in a tablet. Is there a phrase for that? Dang. I’m rambling. Sorry. I always ramble when that day comes up. It’s … it’s difficult to talk about this. But anyway, I was planning out my day, when my glass trembled. And when I say trembled, I mean it was flung right off my table.

That’s when it started.

~

It’s funny, but the camera I used that day? A hand me down. The most famous modern photographer, and I didn’t even go out and get my own equipment. It was one of my dad’s, my biological one, who had bought it for a summer trip he and my step-mom were going to take down to Tijuana. Then he won an even better one at a sweepstakes thing with the Shoprite around the block, so he gave me the Canon for my trip.

It’s never taken more than thirty photos, and twenty-eight of them are pics from the plane, the hotel, and the pool that was on the roof. The other two are from after the attack. The camera itself now sits on my mantle, still dirty and containing its original memory card. A conversation piece, really. I use better stuff for work.

I don’t know why I keep it. I’ve had to fish it out of the trash over six times, thrown out during my darker mood episodes that are common to people with survivor’s guilt (according to my therapist). Two other times, Carla, the lady who comes in every Tuesday to clean, pulled it out. She just put it back and never said a word about it. She looks out for me. Bless her heart. I should really be nicer to her. Like, to her face, instead of anonymously paying her daughter’s college tuition as I have been.

But yeah, the camera. It sometimes drives me batty. It sits there, reminding me of what I’d done. What I could have done. There are still days I desperately want to get rid of it. But then I would blind the last eye that saw them.

~

It was so sudden. There wasn’t any build up to it at all. A calm, serene morning the one moment, and then the earth broke open like a fresh baguette ripped in two. A horrible noise blasted past us, a sound wave of broken steel and ten billion nails against ten billion chalkboards, that threw us from our feet. Before anyone could react, the glass in all the windows shattered, broken by the pitch of the sound. That was the first roar, but I didn’t find that out until later.

I wasn’t hurt, but I could hear the people in the streets scream as the shards came down on them. While everyone else in the dining area ran for the nearest exit and the stairs, I leaped under my table, which might have been what saved me from what came after. Not a conscious choice. Just a habit I picked up from my time dealing with the L.A. quakes.

Now, for a while, I didn’t have a clue what was going on outside. There weren’t any tremors after the initial quake, but from the sounds, I knew it had to be bad. I just stayed where I was, in case someone came to get me. No one did. In fact, the first sign that things were weird was the sudden collective silence. There were some loud astonished gasps and some incoherent yelling, but it didn’t sound like anyone was in a panic.

Then came the second roar. And with that, hell was unleashed on the city.

There are reports of what happened in the initial strike as it emerged. I’ve read them all, but they don’t mean anything to me. Just a list of factoids and hypotheses about its tunneling ability and how long it laid dormant underneath Singapore, a sleeping giant upon which we just built a city. What I could gather from them was that, just by coming up from its resting place, it took out three of the adjacent buildings in an instant. After that, it stumbled about for a bit. While it wasn’t like it was immediately attacked, something must have set it off in a real bad way, because what it did next is what hit the building I was in.

But back to the massive tremor that knocked everything over. At the time, I thought it was an earthquake, which is why I leaped under the table. That theory went out the window the second a purple beam of pure heat ripped across the city skyline and shredded through buildings. The Summer Palms hotel I was in lost its top eight floors in one swoop. If anyone screamed, I didn’t hear it on account of my eardrums shattering (still have the tinnitus as a souvenir).

I think I may have hidden under that table for a good ten to fifteen minutes before I crawled out. Dust was already coming down like snow in December, but I could feel the rays of the sun hitting me. The roof was gone. Not broken. Not damaged. Gone. Rendered to dust.

As I look back now, I’m surprised as all hell that I didn’t panic. Somehow I kept myself level, waited for a couple of minutes after the heat blast took out the top floors, then just grabbed my backpack and ran for the exit, nearly tripping over people that just lay there in the path. Were they dead or unconscious? I haven’t the foggiest, as I was too busy trying not to get trampled by the others who made their way down. But I remember cursing myself for going out to breakfast in flip-flops that day, since they made my escape three times harder. I tripped and fell down a flight of stairs, bruising my knee and scraping my arms. It hurt, but I forgot about the pain when another beam blasted overhead. I saw its purple light ripping through a cloud of dust, but the sound from within was that of steel melting, foundation crumbling, and screams silenced in an instant. I didn’t think about it, or at least I tried not to. I just ran down the stairs with one thought on my mind: escape. Run like hell and try to make it out on the street. Maybe there would be somewhere I could hide. Find an ambulance or a cop I could hitch a ride with. Be anywhere but a demolished building that could topple down any moment.

Then the stairs collapsed right out from under me.

~

Hours had passed when I finally woke back up, though I didn’t find out about that until later. When I came to, there was nothing but darkness around me. Engulfed in panic, I shrieked and flailed my arms wildly in an attempt to break free, thinking I’d been trapped. Technically, I was, but it wasn’t rubble I was stuck under. Three men, two women, and a potted plant had tumbled on top of me and shielded me from the debris. There were other people, who all laid there as limp ragdolls, with not a single sign of life among them. I remember I started sobbing, even though no tears were coming out of my eyes. For a bit, I stumbled in the semi-darkness to try and find a way out by touch, which I did eventually. Bad news? It was blocked with rubble. No way out but either wait for help or dig. I seriously considered just waiting it out. Help would come soon, and I wasn’t in a bad place. Then the earth shook again. So I dug.

Like a frightened mole, I burrowed my way through the dirt with ferocious speed till my fingers bled. I credit my adrenaline for giving my 125 pound frame the strength I needed to get out of there, even as I hacked up my lungs in the process. It wasn’t until that first beam of light hit my face that my heart finally stopped trying to leap out from my chest.

Wasting no time for comfort, I dug out a hole large enough for me to fit through. I pushed my bag out and followed suit, writhing like a worm after a rainstorm. I stumbled and fell twice, scraping my knees again, but I’d done it. I’d made it outside on the street, although I still couldn’t breathe for shit, with the massive dust cloud seeping right into my nostrils and lungs. My eyes narrowed in an attempt to keep the dust out of them. None of it mattered. I was deaf, dumb, and blind, stumbling through a cloud of dirt. Every exhale was a cough. I could feel the blood in my lungs and tear ducts. I knew with absolute certainty I was going to die. But I still kept going.

It was then that I remembered the bottle of water in my backpack. I scrambled for it blindly, overjoyed to find it unbroken. With some sloppy haste, I pooled some of it into my hand and splashed it in my face. A reprieve. Water had never felt that good on my skin. And with that, I got my sight back.

Then I wished I hadn’t.

~

There’re these two paintings by Goya. They get brought up and compared a lot in the art books that have my photo in them. Pose and lighting and all that. I do see it. And yet (and I’m going to be completely honest here), I’d never seen them before I took that picture. But I see their point when the comparison is brought up again and again between The Colossus and my photo. Goya couldn’t have known what it would be like, to see a massive behemoth waltz across through mist and smoke. But he nearly got it. Out of all the paintings, he came the closest. Because he got the dust right.

The dust. That’s all I could see that day. The dust. After the first few buildings collapsed, the dust shot out over every inch of the city. It became a cloud. No, not a cloud. More of a ghost. A specter. A second monster, a mollusk of granite and ash and human remains that fell down on the city like a sheet of pain and tears. The bride of the beast, a herald to its approach and a silent mourner, standing vigil in the wake of its terrible walk. I remember the dust more than Kagemura itself. The creature was just a flash that passed by, shone its giant eyes down at the little people screaming for their lives below, then stomped off.

There’s a second Goya painting. Saturn devouring his Son. This giant titan, the most ghastly dude you can ever imagine, is ramming this little kid into his gaping maw, all on account of a prophecy that proclaimed his children would bring his downfall. He eats a child to preserve his own future.

Goddammit, Goya. Get the hell out of my head.

~

Dust. Nothing but a giant cloud of dust as far as the eye could see. I felt like I’d walked into a grey-brown fog, and the city that had been there a few hours earlier was now a “Silent Hill” level, but a lot hotter. With the towel from my backpack, I made a mask to cover my nose and face, while I blocked my eyes with my hands, peering through my fingers. For some reason, I also took out my camera, the Canon, and just held onto it. I’m not sure why. Maybe as my last testament? Was I that certain of my death?

Now, I had no idea what to do next. Where was I walking to? To safety. Where was that? I didn’t have a clue. There were faint sirens that came from every direction. Muffled screams beyond the dust clouds. And me in the middle of it all.

I picked a direction on pure instinct and just booked toward it. Me, missing one flip-flop and with half a bottle of water, a towel, and a camera, shuffled in the direction to what I’d assumed was away from the danger. My foot got cut up on the rocks and debris, but I managed by some miracle to avoid any glass shards. Here and there I’d see what I thought were bodies, but to keep myself from completely losing it, I tried to block them out.

Then I heard it again, even with my fuzzy hearing and blood-soaked ears. The sound that had announced its attack and shattered all the glass. The sound of hell. The roar. I turned around, trying to see where it was coming from, which seemed like from all directions at once. Destruction in surround sound. Each breath was a hurricane. The beat of its heart was an earthquake. While I couldn’t see it through all the dust and debris, I knew it was close. Hell, I didn’t even know what “it” was at the time. The sounds were just unexplained noises. I still thought it was some kind of a bomb at the time. That’s what I assumed the source of the heat was. I tried to rationalize it all. Terrorists. A war. Or an accident. Gas pipes. All these rational explanations for all that horror. Something to just make a little sense of it all.

And then I saw it. For real this time, as it stepped right over me. I couldn’t comprehend what I was looking at. But in that moment, like a reflex, I aimed the camera and pressed the button.

~

A few weeks ago, in an interview with Time for the tenth anniversary of the Singapore attack, I told them that I’d only seen Kagemura the one time, back when I snapped the picture. That’s actually not true, and I should apologize for my lie. I’d actually seen it twice. The second time was about seven years after Singapore, during the three-year hiatus when they couldn’t locate the creature anywhere, during my trip to Switzerland. Yeah, you’ve seen the story. You know where this is going.

I was in the midst of climbing to the top of a mountain whose name I can’t remember, because who cares what mountains are called anymore when actual titans now walked the earth? I climbed it because I hated skiing and I wanted to get away from the world and the aura of sorrow and fear it had wrapped itself in since the monster began to walk across the landscape. Stupid me.

I saw it in the early morning, lit up by the early sun’s rays as it breached the dew that descended from the Alps with its massive frame. It was actually more bizarre to see it there. A giant crab/dinosaur/eel that keeps going in and out of the Chinese sea wasn’t that out of place in that area, if you know what I mean. But in Switzerland, among the green hills glistening with dewdrops and the sturdy pine trees that formed a carpet of bark and needles, it was as if Heidi suddenly got a weird last chapter. It was more alien than ever out there. Especially since it didn’t do anything.

There was no fire that day. There were no screams. It wasn’t even loud. A complete one-eighty from that day in Singapore. It just lurched forward and slowly made its way past the hills and mountains, cloaked in the haze that was the mists of Switzerland. Wrapped in a cloak of morning dew and fog, rather than fire and dust, it looked beautiful this time around, as it rested itself against the mountainside. Had I brought my camera, I would have gotten my second Pulitzer. Yeah, I sound like a cocky bitch, but I’ve got the royalty checks and the big gold coin on my shelf next to my Pikachu change jug, so I’d like to think I have the cred to back that statement up.

Now, how do you react to something like that? I was on vacation in Switzerland for God’s sakes, with uncomfortable hiking boots and two walking sticks in hand. I expected it all to just be pine trees and purple cows from those chocolate wrappers. Nothing weird, and certainly not it. But there it was, among the Alps without a care in the world.

For years, I’d imagined how I would react if I ever ran into Kagemura again. I thought I’d scream insults. That’d I’d raise hell as jet fighters bombed the shit out of it. Or that I’d at least flip it off, should it happen to look my way. But no. I did nothing. I just watched it for a while as it stumbled slowly around, pushing clouds aside by merely exhaling. After about ten minutes or so, it moved out of sight into the fog. I could hear its steps, as the tremors became gentler and gentler. Just like that, it went away. Then I went back to the hotel, listened to the other guests freak out about the giant prints across the landscape, had my tea, got a book from the book-swap shelf, and called it a day. Stayed there until they evacuated us all.

I’ve never told anyone else that story. Lucky you.

~

It stopped for a moment, as a thunderous rumble emitted from its throat (think a lion growl, but a billion of them at once), then tilted its head back to let out a deafening roar. And me? I took aim, clicked, and took the photo that defined that day and the rest of my life.

Seeing it that first time, my mind went blank. The words “what” and “the fuck” and “is that?”. A giant lizard-like thing waltzed right over me. One wrong step, and I’d have been jelly on the pavement. But as soon as it passed me, I could barely make it out anymore through the dust. The only part I got a good look at was its long, almost chameleon-like tail, which ripped through the buildings like a whip as it twisted. All I could make out was its silhouette, partially illuminated by the purple glow from its eyes. I’m not going to lie: it was beautiful. For a moment, I completely forgot how terrible everything was. There was just me and it, a skinny girl in shorts with a camera, and a creature unlike any the world had ever seen. It stopped for a moment, as a thunderous rumble emitted from its throat (think a lion growl, but a billion of them at once), then tilted its head back to let out a deafening roar. And me? I took aim, clicked, and took the photo that defined that day and the rest of my life. Like I said before: a split-second that neither I nor anyone else will ever forget.

You know what question I get asked the most? Whether I took any other shots of Kagemura later. Do they seriously think I went and ran after it? Do I look like Jimmy Olsen? It was thirty stories high, and that was back before it was full grown! No way did I risk my life like that.

But there was a second picture I took on that “fateful” day (as they call it in the history books). It was right after Kagemura made its way through the main street, right through those four buildings. And it was the only one I took with the intent for people to see it. No one did. Or if they did, no one cared. Everyone was in such awe of the best picture taken in the history of humanity, they neglected the picture I took of humanity.

It was a girl. She must have been around fifteen or sixteen, though she looked decades older. Her skin had been turned a smeared dark grey, with soot and ash clinging to her body. Her mouth was agape, gasping for air as strands of spittle clung to her chin. Then, without warning, a deep, bone-chilling wail escaped her. I stood there, frozen and coated in the same grey goop that rained from the sky, unsure if I should approach her gently or just grab her and try to find shelter. It was then I noticed she held something in her arms. At first, I thought it was a doll. But what teenager carries around a doll, especially in a disaster zone.

When it clicked for me, I nearly puked on my feet. I stood there, dry heaving bile and what little I had in my stomach out on the street, while this young girl wept for the charred body in her arms. When I regained my composure, I … I just stood there. I watched the woman cry with wild abandon. I could have approached her. I could have helped her. Shared my water or taken her by the hand and tried to find help with her in tow. But what did I do?

I raised the camera and snapped a photo. The second I took that day. And no, I have no idea why I took it, instead of anything else I could have done. But it was something real. Something human in a sea of unknown horror. And I approached it like the tourist I was.

A part of me likes to think I was going to help her and the child in her arms. Or do anything. Anything! And maybe I would have, if Kagemura hadn’t turned around.

A squadron of jets dived toward it. Missiles flew. More fire. The creature roared, snarling at the little men in the little metal birds. Like flies, they nimbly dodged its claws as they unloaded volley after volley right into it, so for a moment, I thought they might actually hurt it. But another purple light dashed through the dust, ripping those jets to shreds. It was then I saw that those beams came from its mouth. Its mouth! Do you have any idea how insane that looked at the time?

I turned to the woman, holding the body. She must have been about my age. The girl in her arms couldn’t have been more than ten. She screamed as Kagemura turned around and made its return down the street. As in right toward us. I looked at her, my legs frozen in place. She reached out at me. Then the second step hit the earth, which nearly knocked me off my feet. That’s when I snapped to. That’s when I did what I did.

I wish I knew their names.

~

I don’t have any copies of Dust in my home out for display. I don’t want that to be the centerpiece around which I’ve build my life. All the stuff I have for that one, the books and posters and trophies and accolades, are packed into storage boxes up in the attic. The only thing of that day I have out are these two photos on my nightstand. A photo of a young woman, cradling her little sister’s body, while the shadow of a woman falls on them. The second is a selfie of me, with ash caked into my hair and a stream of tears leaking down my cheeks. I took it after I made it to a rescue center to let my mom know I was okay. I’m alone in it.

I survived on my own. I’d ran for what felt like hours, alone. I dodged boulders of cinderblock and concrete and rebar, alone. I was even showered with empty bullet shell casings from a helicopter strike, all alone.

I could’ve taken her by the hand. I could have stayed with her. But I didn’t. No, I ran. And I became famous and rich for a photo that the smallest drone can take way better nowadays (which they have, as you can see on the Kagemura Tracker Stream). Yeah, good call Claire. Awesome choice.

My shrink tells me not to blame myself. But did she ever see Kagemura in the flesh? No. All of my exes, who just couldn’t deal with the moods and the night terrors, told me I couldn’t have done anything to help her, which is clearly bullshit meant to make me feel better. My agent always sends me clips of Robin Williams in Good Will Hunting (“It’s not your fault”) whenever I send him drunken e-mails at three in the morning about how awful I am for surviving, which in all honesty make me feel so much worse.

No matter what I do. No matter how much money I give away or pump into the Kagemura Survivor Fund or places it’s stomped through I visit to drum up aid, her face never goes away. Who was that in her arms? Did she love that child? Was it hers? A sibling? Or just a kid she tried to save, because that’s the kind of person I imagine her to be.

And if you’ll excuse me, I can’t breathe right now.

~

There are nights, the ones where I can’t sleep, that I just stare at my phone at the KTS. I see its face in full hi-def. Cracked, green-purple skin. Mad, almost insane eyes that look like those of a crazed crocodile, with rows of teeth like an angler fish. I still can’t believe this is the same thing I saw in that dust cloud. There’s no beauty to it. Just rage and pain, lashing out at the world as it marches wherever the winds take it. I’d say I know what that’s like, minus the lashing out and the laser breath. Sometimes I envy that part.

I hate Kagemura. I absolutely hate it. It has become everything that my life revolves around, whether I let it or not. But it’s also the only one who was there in that street. Would it remember me? No, that’s insane. I dunno; I’m rambling. Sorry.

I want to like myself. I did at one point. But now it’s gone. And I tell myself the Titan on the other side of the dust is to blame. But no. It was the cowardly twenty-two-year old who ran. No one forced her. She did that.

Now, when Kagemura shows up on screen, all I see anymore is a reflection, staring right back at me.

Claire Gainsborough, B.A., is a graduate of the School of Greater Design in Pasadena, CA. During her gap year, she survived the Day Zero event of the first Kagemura Ascendance in Singapore. After her trials, she became the most renowned photographer of our modern age, among the highlights being her works “The Titan Through the Dust,” “The Royal Wedding of the Prince and his Husband,” and the “Tezuka in Blue” series.

She currently lives in Colorado and can be contacted through her agent in New York.

Joachim Heijndermans writes, draws, and paints nearly every waking hour. Originally from the Netherlands, he’s been all over the world, boring people by spouting random trivia. His work has been featured in a number of publications, such as Ahoy Comics, Asymmetry Fiction, Gathering Storm Magazine, Hinnom Magazine, and The Gallery of Curiosities, and he’s currently in the midst of completing his first children’s book. You can check out his other work at www.joachimheijndermans.com, or follow him on Twitter: @jheijndermans.

Leigh’s professional title is “illustrator,” but that’s just a nice word for “monster-maker,” in this case. More information about them can be found at http://leighlegler.carbonmade.com/.

“The Titan Through the Dust” is © 2019 Joachim Heijndermans Art accompanying story is © 2019 Leigh Legler

Fiction: The Titan Through the Dust was originally published on Mad Scientist Journal

[rpgmgames]

April’s Featured Game: Folkloria

DEVELOPER(S): folkloriarpg ENGINE: RPGMaker MV GENRE: Adventure, RPG SUMMARY: Folkloria is a lighthearthed turn-based RPG set on a floating island inhabited by mythological creatures. You play as Weaver, a young and unassuming griffin determined to rescue his family from the clutches of Dr. Zeralidius, a shady businessperson from the world below the clouds who plans to modernize the peaceful island.

Our Interview With The Dev Team Below The Cut!

Introduce yourself! *Oi! I'm Domino, a wannabe artist. I've been drawing all my life, a passion I inherited from my father, but only recently I decided to publish my work online. Through the years I have tinkered with basically all iterations of RPG Maker, making silly short games with my friends before attempting to develop something full-fledged.

What is your project about? What inspired you to create your game initially? *Domino: Folkloria is a very simple, cartoony turn-based RPG which spices things up with timed hits, counters and a variety of partners. The game takes place on a floating island inhabited by anthropomorphized mythological creatures. The protagonist of the story is Weaver, a child griffin determined to rescue his family from the clutches of Dr. Zeralidius, a shady businessperson from the civilized world who wants to forcefully modernize the island. Along the way he will meet new allies like Lauper, a thousand-year old phoenix who needs his help to drive Zeralidius out of the island, and Akinai, a kitsune merchant who will supply them with the best items she has to offer. I still haven't shown all the party members, but among them are a buff minotaur lady, a shy but frightening wendigo and a sculptor gorgon. 

What inspired me to make a game was the indie scene in general. I have always dreamt of being a game developer since I was a kid, and when indie games first started becoming really popular I thought to myself "Hey, I could probably do that!". The folklore theme of the game was decided completely at random. When I first created the character of Weaver with my friends years ago, we wanted to make a traditional 2D platformer. We came up with a griffin character since being part lion and part bird he could fly, run fast and use its claws to attack. That decision alone basically shaped up the rest of the setting, and I started populating the game's world with different mythological creatures.

How long have you been working on your project? *Domino:  The game in its actual state was started at the end of 2015, but the basic setting and characters (specifically Weaver, the protagonist and Zeralidius, the villain) were conceived as far back as 2012. I didn't pay much attention to it during the following years since I was working on another unrelated project with some friends, but after things fell out with them I decided to revisit the concept and flesh it out.

Did any other games or media influence aspects of your project? *Domino: Of course! If it wasn't obvious enough, the game is heavily influenced by Nintendo RPGs, especially the Paper Mario series. I always loved the simplistic approach towards the RPG formula those games have, and I also adore turn based combat with timed button presses. I think it keeps the player engaged. Graphically, Mother 3 was a big inspiration. The art style of that game just resonates so well with me, with that colorful palette and the black outlines that make the sprites stand out so much.

Have you come across any challenges during development? How have you overcome or worked around them? *Domino: The biggest challenge was overcoming the limitations of the engine itself. I chose RPG Maker because it's very easy to pick up, as I'm mainly an artist and I don't know anything about coding. But as time passed, I noticed that even when using countless scripts I couldn't achieve the battle system I had in mind for my game, which required timed button presses and numerous character animations. So one day I decided to try making the battle system from scratch, using only common events and script calls, and it worked smoothly. In the end it felt extremely satisfying to see something like that work as intended, and by experimenting with script calls and variables I at least learned something about coding.

Have any aspects of your project changed over time? How does your current project differ from your initial concept? *Domino: Like I said before, the game was initially conceived as a 2D platformer. Then, when I picked up the project again years later, I envisioned it as a bare-bones boss rush RPG with Weaver as the sole playable character. As I started adding more features like partners and equipment, I felt those would be wasted in a boss-only game and I finally decided to include random enemies. Since then the game hasn't changed much, but to this day I always find myself revisiting minor stuff like the design of some NPCs (and I should seriously stop doing that!).

What was your team like at the beginning? How did people join the team? If you don’t have a team, do you wish you had one or do you prefer working alone? *Domino: I prefer to work alone, as I am very picky about how characters and gameplay aspects are handled, but I still enjoy receiving feedback. I have a very close friend who doesn't actively work on the game, but always tell me what I'm doing right or wrong, and I find his help invaluable. So far I'm doing well one-man-armying the project, I will have to find a composer sooner or later though, since making music is the only thing I can't realistically do by myself.

What is the best part of developing the game? *Domino: Animating the character sprites and seeing them interact in battles is incredibly satisfying to me. Being an artist at heart I'd say spriting in general is my favorite aspect of game development. Another thing I absolutely adore is worldbuilding, researching the mythical beasts from all around the world and trying to incorporate them in the game by giving them my own spin.

Do you find yourself playing other RPG Maker games to see what you can do with the engine, or do you prefer to do your own thing? *Domino: I haven't played many RPG Maker games, but I did enjoy LISA the Painful and OneShot immensely. I was impressed by how far these two games in particular pushed the RPG Maker engine to its limit.

Which character in your game do you relate to the most and why? (Alternatively: Who is your favorite character and why?) *Domino: Self-inserting isn't something I like to do in games, so this is a hard question for me, but I think I can relate with Weaver, he mostly keeps to himself but he's always willing to help his friends and family.

Looking back now, is there anything that regret/wish you had done differently? *Domino: Yes, I regret not having started working on this project earlier and wasting too much time during the planning phase.

Once you finish your project, do you plan to explore the game’s universe and characters further in subsequent projects, or leave it as-is? *Domino: Absolutely! I would definitely love to expand the game's lore further through comics and other side projects.

What do you look most forward to upon/after release? *Domino: The sense of accomplishment of having completed and released a game! But deep down, the thing I'd love the most is having fans of my work and seeing my characters drawn by other artists.

Is there something you’re afraid of concerning the development or the release of your game? *Domino: The whole marketing part scares me. I really don't know how to promote my game, so getting it noticed is going to be pretty tough for me.

Do you have any advice for upcoming devs? *Domino: Oh man I am bad at this. I'd say... when starting, keep the scope of your game small. Make something that you, as a player, would enjoy playing. Don't try to follow trends and, most importantly, value every bit of constructive criticism, but remember that you can't always please everyone!

Question from last month’s featured dev @plueschkatzeart: How do you keep yourself motivated?  *Domino: Sharing my progress on the blog for everyone to see is what keeps me motivated. Since I set myself the goal of posting at least once a week I've become more productive than ever. Of course, the positive response I receive from my followers also help. Another thing that encourages me to keep working on my game is seeing other developers succeed; that gives me hope and drives me to do my best!

We mods would like to thank Domino for agreeing to our interview! We believe that featuring the developer and their creative process is just as important as featuring the final product. Hopefully this Q&A segment has been an entertaining and insightful experience for everyone involved!

Remember to check out Folkloria if you haven’t already! See you next month! 

- Mods Gold & Platinum

[awesome-power-cat]

Doki Doki Literature Club: Character files Decoded.

(Possible Spoilers) CLICK AT YOUR OWN RISK.

     My sister Lilly and I, decoded everthing below after I noticed that the text within Yuri's ".chr" file resembled (that of) Base64. We then searched and decoded the other character files.

DISCLAIMER: I have yet to fully complete the game, therefore I haven’t fully read the following data (text) to it’s fullest. (That’s why I’m unsure if it contains spoilers)

Monika’s “.chr” file Decoded:

After opening Monika's ".chr" file, I noticed it looked like an image file. So I renamed the file extension to ".png" and got the image below.

     The image resembles a ring of fire with some form of QR code in the middle, however this was not a QR code. I cropped out the ring of fire so I was left with the code in the middle. After examining the code I tried a few ideas we had, and they all failed. I then thought what if this is binary, the white pixels represent ones, while the black pixels represent zeros instead of typing each zero and one out by myself, I programmed a simple java program that would scan the pixels left to right, and output the corresponding value (Zero or One ), based on the pixel color (Black or White). The end result is a binary code. We used an online tool to decode the binary and the result was a bunch of letters and numbers. These "letters and numbers" looked like Base64 so, we used another online tool to converter those "letters and numbers" to text. That's how we got the message below.

"Can you hear me? ...Who are you? I can't...I can't see you. But I know you're there. Yeah...you can definitely hear me. You've been watching for a while now, right? I guess I should...introduce myself, or something. Um...my name is...actually, that's stupid. You obviously already know my name. Sorry. Anyway...I'm guessing if you were able to put a stop to this, you would have done it by now. I mean, I know you're not, like...evil, or anything...because you've already helped me so much. I should really thank you for that. For everything you've done. You're really like a friend to me. So...thank you. So much. I think...more than anything else...I really don't want it to all be for nothing. ... Everyone else is dead. Maybe you already know that. I'm sure you do, actually. But...it doesn't have to be that way, right? Well...there's a lot of stuff I don't understand. I don't know if it's even possible for me to understand it. But I know that this isn't my only story. I can see that now. Really clearly. And I think everyone else has had the same kind of experience. Some kind of deja vu. It's the Third Eye, right? Anyway...I could be totally wrong about this. But I really think you might be able to do something. I think you might be able to go back...or however you want to put it... ...To go back and tell them what's going to happen. If they know ahead of time, then they should be able to avoid it. They should...if they remember their time with me in the other worlds...they should remember what I tell them. Yeah. I really think this might be possible. But it's up to you. I'm sorry for always being...you know... ... Never mind. I know that's wrong. This is my story. It's time to be a fucking hero. Both of us. 2018"

Yuri’s “.chr” file Decoded:

Upon opening Yuri's ".chr" file. I instantly noticed text that looked like Base64. I used an online tool to convert the Base64 text to the message below.

Warning: The following text is... uh.. intense. You've been warned!

"If you found this note in a small wooden box with a heart on it, then *congratulations!* You are probably the first person to read this. I didn’t really plan on sharing this with anybody, but for some reason I think it’s exciting that somebody out there, a complete stranger, will come across this note and read my story. Someone I will never meet, sharing such a personal bond with me. I’m fascinated that either one of us could die - even as soon as tomorrow - with the other being completely clueless to the fact. To you, my entire life is within this note, and so I will live for as long as your memory can carry me. Writing this, I’m wondering if that makes you feel fascinated or violated. It’s so exciting. I’m sorry if my story is a bit disorganized, but I’d like to get it down while it’s still fresh on my mind. First, I’ll tell you a little bit about myself. I’m a first-year college girl and have led, by most standards, a pretty unspectacular life up to this point. I grew up in an upper-middle class school district with decent teachers. I did track in middle school and some of high school, and I’ve had two boyfriends. Now, I’m studying for a career in occupational therapy, because I feel the field is undervalued and provides tremendous help to people. I’m giving you this background because there’s this strange misconception that if you want to kill someone then you’re either sick in the head or you have anger management issues. But, it’s very apparent that I don’t fall into either of those categories. It’s true that most murder cases are in a domestic setting where someone loses control of their anger or something. But the thing is that those people kill under provocation, whether by a singular outburst or by a slow-burning series of misfortunes. Those people kill because in that brief moment, they want a specific someone, for a specific reason, to be hurt or killed. What I’m talking about is wanting to kill someone for no specific reason, maybe just to see what it’s like. Do you ever get that? I wouldn’t know how others feel, because it’s not something I ever talked about. But I’ve been curious about what it’s like to kill someone ever since I was a child. Not killing anyone in particular, just a random person. It’s always just fascinated me that if I put my mind to it, I can approach anyone, and in five minutes they would be completely gone from this Earth. But I’ve never done so for a couple of reasons. First of all, for most of my life it was logistically impossible for me to do it without getting caught. I only got my driver’s license a couple years ago, and even then, the preparations would take too much time, definitely stirring suspicion. It was only once I started college that I realized this was no longer an obstacle. Another reason is that I was afraid of causing harm to too many people. You might laugh reading that, at how hypocritical it sounds. But, let me explain: Why should I feel bad about killing someone if they’re too dead to care? Who would I be feeling bad for? Contrarily, it’s the grief of the living that I’d rather not be responsible for. Because of this, I knew it would take a good deal of research before finding a suitable person to kill, and I’ve never had the means to do so - again, until I started college. And now, having just experienced it, I’d say it was pretty satisfying in the end. Something I would try again? Probably not, since my curiosity has already been satisfied. It really wouldn’t be the same a second time. But anyway, if by any chance you’re also curious to kill someone, then you’re welcome to take notes. :) *** I started a hobby of people-watching soon after I entered college. People-watching is interesting to me because it’s taking one of the infinite extras in your life and turning them into a main character - without them knowing, of course. It’s so easy to forget that every single one of the hundreds of strangers you pass every day has a life story as deep and complex as your own. One thing I noticed about people-watching, and wanting to kill someone, is that you are in more constant awareness of this. When I find a person to observe, their story slowly becomes more clear to me over time, gaps being filled - it really is amazing. I usually went to grocery stores on weekends and looked around in people’s shopping carts. If I saw something that interested me, I decided to observe the person for a little bit. Of course, since my goal was to find someone to kill, I ruled out anyone who had children or a partner with them. Wedding rings were another tell-tale sign. So maybe once a weekend, I would find someone who fit my criteria, at which point I would follow them home and note their address. From there, it became incredibly easy to investigate a little bit more; most people have normal work hours, meaning I could spend afternoons going through their mail or looking around in their house. I repeated this with several people (and had one close call), but for varying reasons I didn’t really feel satisfied enough with them to kill any of them. I started getting a bit impatient and thought that I might just settle for killing the man named Devon, even though I didn’t really want to kill someone wealthy. But then, I came across someone new - someone who just, felt perfect. The feeling only strengthened as I investigated her further, and I knew that she would be the one for me to kill. A young-looking woman I met at the grocery store, as per usual. She was doing some light shopping with a basket. Her hair was wavy and dark brown, sitting inelegantly on her slumped shoulders and surrounding her tired-looking face. Her bare fingers told me she might be single, but beyond that, my gut was almost certain of it. This woman just seemed so…plain, really. I guess I felt a greater acuity for the personal lives of strangers ever since I started my people-watching. But the way she carried herself, I just got the feeling that if she suddenly died, nobody would be around to miss her. Of course, I still wanted to investigate her a bit. I followed my usual routine of checking out her place during her work hours. I learned immediately from her mail that her name is Linda Watson. Linda lived in a quiet apartment complex, her mailbox easily accessible right outside her door. Instead of quickly shuffling through it, I decided I could take her mail back to my dorm and return it before she was finished with work (she only lived about 15 minutes from me). I did some research and learned how to open and reseal the envelopes without damaging them, which took some technique along with a hair dryer, rubbing alcohol, and Q-tips. This made it easy for me to learn a little more about her. Linda was a 33-year-old woman who worked for a small accounting firm - I’d rather not name the place outright. Her birthday was December 11th which, coincidentally, was approaching in a couple weeks. I also managed to find a bank statement that gave me a nice look into how she’s been spending her past month. It was at this point I realized that my assessment of Linda Watson as an extremely plain woman was pretty spot-on, because there was absolutely nothing interesting on the list. A trip to Old Navy, a bunch of Starbucks, something about $40 from Amazon - no restaurants, no movies, nothing that would really imply she was spending any time socializing. That aside, I also found a cooking magazine, so I guess she was into cooking. Apartments are harder to break into than suburban homes, because there are fewer doors and windows. Every time I got Linda’s mail, I would check the front door and the windows in the back, but they were always locked. This was a bit frustrating because I was really interested in getting into her house. So, I came up with a sort of plan that I thought would be fun, even if it didn’t work. Last Saturday, I visited Linda Watson’s apartment complex as I would on weekdays. The difference is that this time, I wanted her to be home. I thought it would be interesting to have a conversation with her. If I got lucky, I could take advantage of the situation to discreetly unlock a window from the inside. So, I walked up to her door wearing nothing warmer than a light sweatshirt, and knocked. The adrenaline rush was crazy. I was afraid I might screw something up. The door opened, and in front of me stood Linda Watson, exactly as I remembered her from the grocery store. It was at that moment, making eye contact for the first time, that I realized I was running the risk of beginning to care about this person. As selfish as it is, I couldn’t kill a person I cared about, even if it’s a 33-year-old woman standing in a doorway with a slightly perplexed look on her face, giving me a reserved “Hello.” Arms crossed from the cold, I shyly returned Linda’s greeting. I explained that I was walking my dog near the woodsy area behind the back of her apartment, and that he had gotten away. I had been looking for my dog for an hour and was wondering if Linda may have seen him roaming about. Of course, Linda sympathetically apologized for the situation and that she couldn’t be of use to me, but that she would keep an eye out. I wore a defeated expression in response, apologizing in return for troubling her. It somehow went exactly as I had hoped - Linda invited me inside to warm up a bit with some coffee. I outwardly hesitated before accepting her offer, although on the inside I wanted to jump through the door and hug her for cooperating so well. And that’s how Linda Watson ended up with a 19-year-old girl next to her on the couch - who knows if it was just a nice gesture or if she really has no better way to spend her Saturdays than talking to some kid she just met (who happens to be interested in killing her). Linda soon learned that my name is Maria (it’s not) and that I attend the nearby community college (I don’t). I was a little bit nervous that she would ask me too many questions because I didn’t have many answers prepared. I was able to steer the conversation toward her, and she was pretty happy to talk. I asked what she does, and she told me that she works for the accounting firm I already knew about, communicating with outside clients and keeping records. I told her I was pretty nervous about growing up. She told me to enjoy college and to make lots of friends because there’s less opportunity once you start working. When I asked if she was married or anything, she laughed. Of course I knew she wasn’t married, but I wanted to hear more about her love life. She said that she doesn’t currently have a boyfriend (I guess she’s at least had boyfriends, but who knows how long ago). When I asked her about kids, she said she doesn’t want them until she gets a better job. On top of that, she told me that her family has a history of some genetic diseases such as arthritis and depression, which she is afraid to give to her kids. It’s funny that she mentioned that because when I asked to use her bathroom, I noticed a tube of prescription pills on the sink. It was labelled duloxetine, which I looked up later and discovered that it is in fact an antidepressant. I had a joking thought that maybe by killing her I’d be doing her a favor, but quickly decided I was a terrible person for coming up with that. The rest of the visit was pretty dull. We talked about food and some other mundane stuff before I eventually made an excuse to leave. I didn’t get the chance to unlock a window or anything like that, but I didn’t really feel the need to go through her apartment anymore. As early as the drive back to my dorm, I was already thinking about how I would best like to kill Linda Watson. The choice was between effectiveness and fun. I decided to go with fun, because it would be way more satisfying to kind of dissect her as I killed her, rather than just getting it done and calling it a day. Fast-forward one week to December 13th - today, actually. Linda Watson turned 34 two days ago. I made a fun little wager with myself where if Linda was spending her birthday weekend alone, I would pay her a visit and kill her. If she was out or had company, I would stop by next week or something instead. So this morning, I drove over to Lowe’s and bought an axe. Again, I expect you’re laughing, but that’s also kind of the point. An axe is so kind of cliche and a “movies” thing that I actually thought it would be the most fun. Swinging it at someone and everything, it’s a really entertaining image. They actually had a bunch of different axes, so I picked one that had a good weight but was still light enough for me to swing quickly. The drive after getting the axe was when the adrenaline really picked up. All that kept going through my mind on the way over was “Wow, I’m really doing this.” Not in a bad way, just like a surprised this is real life sort of thing. I also got this strange rush of recollections of the time I spent with Linda. It was like my life was flashing before my eyes, except it was just the rather mundane hour I spent with Linda - like snippets of our conversations, the sound of her laugh, her facial expressions and stuff. I also wondered to myself what the crazy serial killers would be feeling at a time like this - schizophrenic delusions? Sexual buildup? I have no idea, but what I felt was kind of like ridiculously alert and numb in the senses at the same time, however that’s possible. Before getting out of the car, I had the sense to stuff the axe into my backpack to look a little less ridiculous walking across the parking lot. The handle was sticking out, but that didn’t really matter. At that point my heart was pounding so hard I could feel my throat throbbing. I tried controlling my breath, but it’s really hard to not breathe fast when your heart is pounding like that. I reached Linda Watson’s door and quietly put my ear to it after setting down my backpack. I heard a voice that wasn’t hers - company? No, it was just the TV, mixed with her occasional tapping footsteps behind the door. I actually kept my ear there for a really freaking long time, because I wanted to make absolutely sure nobody was over. Probably 10 minutes of that and a lot of reassuring myself convinced me. I quietly opened my backpack zipper and held the axe in my hands. My fiercely shaking hands. What the hell was this kind of reaction that my body was making? I told my body to shut up, that it’s no big deal, but of course it wouldn’t listen. It was actually bizarre how much my hands were shaking. It must be the adrenaline buildup. I rolled my eyes at myself and got my hand to rest on the doorknob. If it’s locked, I’ll knock, it’ll be basically the same. I took a deep breath and forced my muscles into action. I swiftly turned the doorknob. Not locked. In one movement, I opened up the door and slipped inside. Linda Watson, just a few steps away into the kitchen. I see - she was in the middle of cooking. She immediately jumped and turned around, startled. I expected that. Quickly, I let go of the doorknob and adjusted the axe into both hands. In the following split second, I realized that she would probably start to make a lot of noise. Looking back, I’m an idiot for not considering that. Just as Linda’s mouth opened to speak - maybe even started speaking - I forcefully swung my axe into the side of her head. But, my axe was facing backwards. I hit her with the blunt end of the blade. I actually did this on purpose, because in that split second I somehow decided that it would be the way to keep her noise to a minimum. It actually worked. I felt barely any resistance in the swing as I collided with her head, knocking it clean aside. Linda’s half-formed syllable came out as a kind of weird grunt - a noisy exhalation is probably the best I could describe it. That happened at the same time as her head smacked into the cabinet from the force, and she fell backwards without any ability to keep her balance. I didn’t hesitate at all to keep swinging at her while she was half lying down on the ground, this time my axe facing the right way. I didn’t really know where to swing, so I kind of just started hacking at her collarbone area and chest. It didn’t feel like the axe was going too deep, but there was a nice “thunk” sort of sound every time the axe embedded into her. I even felt the soft sinking sensation ripple into my hands, like the axe was a kind of physical extension of my sense of touch. On a whim, I swung once at her throat, but most of the swing actually missed and I hit the floor by accident, causing a loud, dull whack to resonate through the apartment. I didn’t have time to think about it. I swung again with better aim and got a more centered hit, feeling the bone or cartilage or whatever is in there, so I must have split it open. Right after that, I decided to swing at her face, and I got this diagonal cut along her nose and mouth, which felt pretty good so I did it once more. I finally briefly stopped to survey the damage. Linda was bleeding ridiculously. The blood was kind of coming out in waves, in sync with her beating heart, probably. It was pooling all around her and riding along the cracks between the tiles. Her light blue shirt was all torn up and stained dark, kind of mixed with a fleshy mess around her chest. It was all just glistening red. Her face wasn’t much better, covered in dripping red at this point, and her lip was kind of hanging off, revealing red-stained teeth in a really weird way, like a zombie or something. Linda wasn’t dead, though. Her limbs were kind of weakly, aimlessly trying to move while she was stuck on her back. More than anything, she reminded me of a bug that you crush but it still pitifully moves its legs around before it dies completely. That’s basically what she was doing. But I didn’t know how long it would take for her to die, or what kind of condition she was in. I ended up grabbing a big knife that was on the counter that she was using to cut up meat. Trying to step around the blood, I reached down and carved into the upper half of her neck, trying to sort of saw it from the left side to the right. It was a little awkward because the area was so soft and squished around the knife as I was cutting. But the sensation was completely different from the axe. It actually felt like I was cutting a tough piece of raw meat (which I guess technically, I was). The blood started pouring out, and I hoped that I severed the most major arteries in there. It must have worked, because after a moment Linda’s limb movements kind of just had the strength drained from them, soon resting still on the floor. I took a few seconds to catch my breath. No time to stick around and think about the experience. I shook the knife blade through a dirty pan in the sink to clean off the blood, then threw the knife into my backpack. I did the same with the axe. I also took her laptop that was sitting on the counter. It had some recipe open for veal and mushrooms. I didn’t really take the laptop to use it, since I have a perfectly good one myself that I got for college. I just wanted to look through it for fun. I finally went outside and closed the door behind me. I got some blood on my sweater and jeans. But funnily enough, I actually anticipated that so I wore dark colors. The drive back to my dorm was just a constant replaying of the experience in my head. I guess that’s still kind of happening even now, actually. But it felt pretty nice. Linda Watson is dead. I kind of let the weight of that sink in. The sensation of having completely removed a human life from existence. It’s crazy. I don’t know how else to describe it. Anyway, I threw the axe and knife into a dumpster on campus, which I think is picked up every Monday, so they’ll be gone by then. My roommate goes home on the weekends, so I have the dorm to myself today. It gave me the chance to go through Linda’s website history. I was right in thinking that’s where her deepest secrets would lie. There was actually a lot of dirty stuff, like the names of websites for porn videos and stories and things like that. Same with her searches. A lot of the websites were boring, like cooking websites and recipes, and game websites like Bejeweled and stuff. I eventually got to the “one week ago” section of her history, and it gave me a chill. There were a whole bunch of searches like “methods of suicide”, “how to tie a noose”, “dangerous household chemicals”, “carbon monoxide poisoning” - like a lot of them. She was probably ready to write a book on suicide after all the research she did. So I guess Linda was contemplating suicide. I wonder if it was influenced by her depression. The irony is actually striking. Maybe Linda was going to die anyway. Or maybe she couldn’t find the courage to do it. If that were the case, I almost literally gave her a birthday present by killing her. That’s actually really comical in a messed-up way, and it leaves a weird taste in my mouth. The part I don’t get is that I didn’t see any of those searches up until the “one week ago” section, nothing more recent than that. I ended up throwing the laptop in the dumpster with the other stuff. It’s been a few hours since then, so I’ve had some time to calmly think about everything. Like I said, it was pretty satisfying and I’m glad I finally got around to it. I feel like I can finally cross it off my bucket list, or like I’m tying loose ends with myself. This is probably the first and last time I’ll write the name Linda Watson - it’s back to living a normal college life, except I might do some people-watching every now and then because it’s definitely fun and interesting. But I’ll always wonder how many people there are like me. I’m sure there has to be a lot, because there is just nothing strange about it to me, being curious about killing someone. Sadly, it’s something that people can’t exactly just talk about, so I guess I’ll never know. I’m sure that anyone would just lie about it even if you asked them. But you can’t help but wonder if that person in the grocery store, who stares at you as you pass by, might be considering what it would be like to kill you. If I could, I would tell them all about it, so they could decide for themselves. But who knows, maybe I got lucky, and that person is you. I actually really, really hope so. ~♥"

Natsuki's ".chr" file Decoded:

We haven't figured this one out yet, but we have a few ideas. Note the image is seamless horizontally.

When we opened Natsuki's ".chr" file we again noticed it looked like an image file. We simply renamed the file extension to ".png" or ".jfif" to get the image below.

     The above may have already been documented/decoded. I would like to note that not all of the character files were encoded with Base64.

Thank you for reading, even though it may have already been done.

[fmpyear2projectwithfin]

Character Movement and Camera (Try 2)

One of the main problems i had with the first try of this code was just how stupidly complicated it was, i didn’t understand the issue cause i couldn’t even understand my own code, everytime i looked at it i was just blank so here i tried to simplified, so here i used the bare minimum to get it working which allows me to update it anytime i need to add anything or change anything without having to dive into an endless pit of code, this way also makes it really simple to add new mechanics since its not gonna contradict with anything. first i use the movement axis inputs i had and made two movement inputs making right go -1 on the y to make it move right and due to the axis input going left will make it go on the 1 on y without having to code anymore input, while on the input forward i have it on 1 on the x so it goes UP on the z and Down on the z when pressing S i did it this way cause of the top down perspective we are doing if this was a 3D game or Side Scroller i wouldn’t be doing it this way since going forward you don’t want to be going in the sky of those games. Now that all the controls have Be made we are going to experiment with camera controls, the idea i had was having the camera be a bit more forward so the player is at the bottom of the screen not at the center but im not sure if we are going to keep it, i just wanted to do some experimenting to see how it would look like, I also wanted this sort of look cause i didn’t want players to easily see the enemies when they are walking or chasing, i wanted the player to also rely on the sound cues and other indicators that enemies are around or that they are being chased, and i think one way of doing this is to have a camera that moves depending on what direction you are facing or going so if going left or right the camera is gonna shift more that way or and if going up or down its gonna face another way. I’ve done this with a pretty simple Code function, first we use a > and < to determine what direction the player is going, this will allow us to pick if the player is moving up or down, left or right, this information will allow the code to know what to do next, for example if the direction is greater then 1 it will play the timeline but if its not it will play the timeline in reverse, this is a really simple and quick way of doing such a camera movement system and i really like it, i believe a lot of stuff can be done with such a foundation and just adds a more chaotic and unnatural feel to everything, giving the game the correct tone we want. To end it we just plug it into a lerp vector which gets information on the timeline and tells the code that it needs to move on that axis from the information in the timeline, we then use a relativesetlocation to actually move the camera into position. The end result is actually a basic top down movement system and pretty good camera changing but i will have to work on this a bit more to get this right but for now this is all we really need

[ethanalter]

'The X-Files' postmortem: 'Plus One' director Kevin Hooks talks bringing sexy back to the show

David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson in ‘The X-Files’ (Photo: Shane Harvey/Fox)

Warning: This post contains spoilers for the “Plus One” episode of The X-Files.

Phew — is it hot in here or is it just us? This week’s Chris Carter-penned X-Files installment, “Plus One,” was one of the steamiest in the show’s history… even though Fox Mulder and Dana Scully (David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson) didn’t do anything more on camera than cuddle. In the midst of an investigation into a strange case of murderous doppelgängers, the paranormal investigators provide an overdue update on their complicated romantic status by sharing an intimate night together in their hotel room. Initially occupying separate beds, an emotionally troubled Scully approaches Mulder with a request: “Can you hold me?”

Once in bed, the duo — who, let’s not forget, have a child together (or do they?) — engage in some sweetly emotional pillow talk about taking care of each other in their old age and the unlikely chances of spawning another rugrat. As Scully turns to face Mulder with a smile on her face, the camera pans subtly away to the left. When we cut back to the room later on, there’s obvious evidence that they’ve gotten hot and heavy beneath the sheets, from his rumpled tank top to her bare shoulders. It’s quite possibly the closest that The X-Files has gotten to a sex scene in 11 seasons — or, at least, close enough to make us want to rechristen the series as The Sexy Files.

“The Sexy Files! That’s pretty funny,” says the hour’s director, Kevin Hooks, with a good-natured chuckle. A former child actor turned veteran director — his past episodic credits include everything from St. Elsewhere and China Beach to Prison Break and Lost — Hooks says he was excited to learn that his first X-Files episode would be such a momentous one for the main characters. “That scene is obviously huge, and when I read the script I was really excited about it. It’s something that X-Files fans have been looking forward to for some time.”

Hooks filled us in on how he brought the sexy back to The X-Files and how he accomplished the difficult task of making a simple game of Hangman seem like the scariest thing ever.

Yahoo Entertainment: David and Gillian obviously have a long history together that they drew on for the more intimate moments in this episode. How did you see your role as the first-time director coming into that relationship? Kevin Hooks: The biggest challenge in doing a show that has the long history that The X-Files has is to gain the trust of the cast, as well as the crew. That’s something that I really tried to invest a lot of thought and energy into, knowing we were going to get to a place of intimacy that hadn’t been explored on the show in a while. Because David and Gillian are so close and so invested in these characters, they brought a lot to it that I couldn’t even have anticipated. They did a lot of work with Chris in terms of how to handle the passage of time and the ages of the characters. I just wanted to impress upon them the trust that I felt in them and that hopefully it would be reciprocated, which I think it was. I wanted to say my piece and get out of the way, because what they brought was going to be rich, and I wanted to make sure they felt comfortable enough to offer that.

The pillow talk sequence is the centerpiece of the episode, and you allow it to unfold in a very relaxed, almost languid way. It’s increasingly rare to see that kind of pacing on network television. How long did the scene take to shoot? We shot most of the hotel material in one or two days. What was paramount for me was to make sure that the scene played as honestly and earnestly as it possibly could. I didn’t want to rush the actors through takes; it was important to let that scene breathe, and I felt it worked well. In an episode that really does have a [fast] pace to it, that scene needed to breathe to be authentic.

As intimate as it is, we never do see Mulder and Scully kiss. Were there versions of the scene where things got more physical? Everybody was in agreement that we didn’t want to sell any body language that would indicate where it was going. The reveal was in the time cut when Mulder gets up to go to the bathroom, and you see bare shoulders. That’s when you realize that something has changed — that they’ve probably gone to another level, to use a euphemism. [Laughs] So we took great care with the body language to ensure that we didn’t ruin that reveal for the audience.

It’s not unlike the way Hollywood films functioned during the Production Code days — you had to hint at things rather than be explicit. Well, that’s the irony of the structure of that sequence, because we were restricted from what we could show for different reasons. We did it to serve the story as opposed to being dictated to by Standards and Practices.

Some lines in that sequence — like Mulder’s comment about Scully having plenty of “scoot in her boot” — sound improvised. Did the actors have leeway to play around that way? As much as Chris wanted to make sure that we got the scripted dialogue, he also trusts David and Gillian to try different things. I don’t remember if “scoot in your boot” was scripted or if it was David, but there’s some improv in there that works really well. When you’ve lived with characters for as long as they have, it becomes instinctive and just adds to the spontaneity of it all.

Anderson and Karin Konoval in ‘The X-Files’ (Photo: Shane Harvey/Fox)

Let’s talk about the other major hurdle you faced in the episode: making a game of Hangman seem frightening, not goofy. How did you approach those particular scenes visually? [Laughs] I knew there were going to be a ton of inserts, but I wanted to make sure that we didn’t rely entirely on them. I always think that camera movement creates drama, so I tried to get some push-ins and camera movements around that material. We also talked a little bit about jump-cutting in the editing patterns. Karin Konoval plays multiple characters in the episode, and one thing we talked a lot about was what grade of lead we’d use in the pencils. I wanted to feel the texture of what was being written on those pages, and Karin decided that she was going to make one of her characters left-handed and the other one right-handed. It was a wonderful idea that worked well with what the whole Hangman game was supposed to be in the episode.

I’ve always liked the conceit of doppelgängers as boogeymen. Did you enjoy playing around with that notion behind the camera? Chris and I talked a lot about designing shots that put characters in the same frame, whether it’s the young man in the car in the beginning of the episode or the fight Mulder has with his doppelgänger. We really wanted to give the audience visuals that felt a little bit more original and a little bit more fun than some of the other stuff where he had to rely on cuts. Putting both characters in the same frame was a wonderful exercise in the doppelgänger of it all.

The last shot of the episode — where Scully opens the adjoining door to their hotel rooms and finds Mulder waiting — is very playfully intimate as well. You can imagine where the scene goes next, even though we don’t see it. It’s very true. This sort of goes to what I was saying about relationships that exist well beyond a director coming in to do one episode in Season 11. There’s a foundation there that they’ve been working from and building on for years, and I just wanted to help bring it out. It was a lot of fun; watching them work together was amazing.

Were you a Mulder and Scully ‘shipper back in the day during the show’s original run? Working as a director and producer in television, you don’t get a chance to watch a lot of the shows being done. And that was before binge-watching! So I can’t say that I was avid a fan as many, but I certainly followed the show and aspired to be part of it. When I first talked to Chris Carter about doing [this episode], I told him that wherever I worked previously in the business, it was almost like “Six Degrees of X-Files.” I always met someone who had worked on the show, and thought they had worked with me on it! [Laughs] Finally, I was able to actually do the show and share the mystique of The X-Files.

The X-Files airs Wednesdays at 8 p.m. on Fox.

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[rhenal]

Hello again

Wow, it’s been a year now since i last posted anything here. I’m still alive, if anyone is still here at all to care. Um. Last post I did was about the status of my mental health, so I guess a follow-up would be prudent, no?

So now it’s official. I have both Aspergers and ADHD. I thought it was just ADD, but no. The hyperactivity aspect is something I very much have. It’s just that it doesn’t manifest physically - it simply manifests mentally in that my mind is always everywhere at once - that my train of thought manifests more like a puppy on its first snow day than like an actual train.

I’ve been on antidepressants for 13 months now, but I’ve only really felt any real effect from them for the last month and a half as I finally got to change med type. The first type barely helped and gave me nightmares two nights out of three, but those things were small and irrelevant enough for me to it really bring it up until now. Because for all that time, I have been searching for and adjusting to ADHD meds as well, and you only want to sort through one set of side-effects at a time. Turns out I’m really sensitive to side effects, so finding the right type and dosage took a long time, and I’m not certain that the one I’m on now is the best choice still. 

I’m still on full-time sick leave for burnout, since February 14th last year. Currently it will last until the end of August, then we’ll reevaluate from there. Hopefully I can start studying again by that point, if only at 50%.

Turns out, it takes a really long time to recover from a bout of burnout that has had five entire years of buildup. 

So what am I doing now? Mostly just being useless. Restless but without the energy to do anything about it. I barely eat these days, and my sleep cycle is just completely nonexistent. See, in large part due to aforementioned double-whammy of Aspergers and ADHD, my capacity for self discipline is basically nil. With me being on sick leave, I have nothing that forces me to get up and do stuff. There is no reason other than my own health to get up in the morning.

Add to that the fact that both my current antidepressants and my ADHD meds lower my appetite. I do not get hungry anymore. I just get tremors in the late afternoon when I’ve forgotten to eat all day. I can go entire days where I am never ever hungry, and when I finally manage to make something to eat and force myself to just eat it dammit, I can barely get half the meal down.

My doctor has actually advised me to eat small snacks through the entire day to make up for it. You know, the thing that you’re usually heavily discouraged from doing? :’)

In conclusion, my daily life is kinda shit. I’m doing what I can to get better at it all, even going to group therapy every week, but it feels like a Sisyphean effort. 

I’m too burnt out to study or work, but without study or work, I can’t really recover properly. It’s one real bastard of a catch 22.

I’d move back home, but that’s not really an option. Not now that the family’s got a much smaller apartment. I’d have to live on the couch, in a living room with no possible way of real privacy. And I’m an introvert. I am really fortunate to have a family as loving and supportive as I do, and I love them dearly - but I NEED my space. When I went there over the winter holidays, just those two and a half weeks I was there was enough to suck me completely dry of energy. 

If anyone has any advice, I’d love to hear them. Because I need them desperately.

So well. That’s where I am now. 

[garbling thought-vomit about social issues and the failings of tumblr as a community below. Probably best ignored.]

So, why’d I disappear from Tumblr? Should be obvious. The state of my mental health is bad enough without having to deal with the constant anxiety of dealing with this social network. The nonexistence of nuance and the total intolerance of anything even remotely problematic. And the idea that if you like anything that has any problematic aspects in it at all, that means YOU are problematic and are to be ashamed.

It’s actually a really hostile environment for creatives. 

The pressure to be perfect and totally 100% inclusive at all times with not a nanometer’s space for human error or honest mistakes, the attitude that ‘if you’re not perfect 100% of the time always you are EVIL AND BAD AND SHALL BE SHUNNED FOREVERMORE’. 

The attitude a lot of Tumblr seem to have that the only things you are ever allowed to write or otherwise portray are essentially self-portraits because if you haven’t personally experienced it you should never ever write it ever. Kinda makes it impossible to even try to do properly inclusive work for fear of getting even a single minute detail wrong. It’s actually really really fucking hostile and I hate hate hate it. Like, I keep seeing creators of all kinds - writers, artists, cartoonists, animators and game devs alike try their very hardest to make something as inclusive and culturally diverse as they can, only to be rewarded with heaps upon heaps of abuse from Tumblr users just because they weren’t 100% perfect in every single aspect, or that their efforts were seen as ‘virtue signaling’ and are only doing it to make themselves look good and that is false and sin and to be PUNISHED.

It’s like the reward for trying your best to make something that everyone can enjoy without feeling left out is only hate and vitriol. 

(All the while creators who do not care about inclusivity at all get perhaps but a mere fraction of this abuse, I might add. It’s pretty fucking insane when you think about it.)

It’s suffocating.

And it’s total fucking bullshit.

People make mistakes. 

People change. 

And people can absolutely grow from those mistakes and be better. 

But Tumblr as a community keeps fostering this attitude that if you have ever said or done anything even remotely wrong on any level, regardless of the context or how long ago it was or how much better you have grown to be since then, once an uninformed or unthinking statement - accidental or not - always a racist. Or homophobe. Or transphobe. Or ableist. Or any kind of -ist or -phobe imaginable.

I’ve been very fortunate to not really have had to endure any witch-hunt personally, but I saw them happen all the time. And it just. Well. I got really fucking tired of it, and it further worsened my mental health by quite a lot. I just cared too much that I couldn’t stop ranting about it in my head. Sometimes for days.

So I left.

Why am I back? Honestly, I have no idea. I guess I still have a lot of thoughts about things and I’ve been really isolated this last year, so I just need a place where I can put them.

I intend to go on a bit of a purge of the blogs I follow and start with a zero-tolerance policy for witch-hunting bullcrap and other drama. 

See, I have a pretty simple, straightforward moral code. It’s often difficult to follow, due to the human brain working as it does with it’s shitty, garbage, garbage ‘us vs them’ mentality, but it is something I intend do always strive for.

No one should ever be judged for that which they can not control

Ever. That includes the entire spectrum of skintones, every single possible gender identity, sexuality, romantical affiliation, neuropsychiatric status - normal or otherwise, physical condition, place of birth, state of family or culture they grew up in. Or anything else I can think of.

No one picks the toolbox they’re born with. All that should ever matter to anyone is what they build with it.

Fuck jokes about skin colour - ANY skin colour - it’s tacky and only serves to further strengthen the idea that they somehow make people fundamentally different, and that idea can get set on fire and shot into the sea. 

Yes, there are absolutely issues with the culture surrounding differences in levels of melatonin. White people like myself carry a lot of privilege in the west, and darker skinned people of all kinds absolutely do face a lot of unjust treatment in the world. No matter what country in the world you are in, that place’s “default” - how I detest that unfortunate consequence of the human brain functioning as it does - will always carry a strong privilege compared to those who do not fit that default.  But it’s all cultural. There’s nothing inherent in looking any certain way that dictates a person’t being. It’s all the norms and values of the culture they were raised in - and cultures change. It’s slow. It’s difficult. But it is absolutely a worthwhile struggle, is it not?

And, maybe a reasonable path to changing a culture to be more inclusive is to maybe not constantly call attention to such differences? Because that only strengthens the idea that the trait pointed out is ‘other’ - not part of the ‘normal’. 

And we want to widen the definition of normal to include all of us. Right? That’s pretty much this entire community’s mission statement, isn’t it?

I’m thinking that simply acting like a trait is normal, that it’s not something that’s even worth calling attention to, does a lot to normalise that trait. To help it be included within the definition of normal. 

Maybe I’m wrong. But I don’t think I am.

And then there’s the whole thing with white guilt/cultural shame or pride or any somesuch. I have thoughts. Probably pretty controversial thoughts. So I’m preparing myself for pitchforks.

Feeling shame or guilt over whatever hand you drew in the grand lottery of genetical happenstance is just really fucking stupid. That much should be thoroughly established by now. But the thing is, so is feeling pride, for the same reason. You did fuck all to affect what you got. The deeds of your ancestors have nothing whatsoever to do with you. 

You don’t get to choose your toolbox. You can only choose what to do with it.

It feels kind of weird to condemn cultural pride as a concept like this, but I do. I really honestly do. Because it’s dumb. Incredibly hard to drop, absolutely - most of us are fed with it since birth, after all - but it’s still dumb. I mean, what on earth did anyone do to earn the culture they grew up in? Nothing. Because it’s entirely out of your hands.

Treasure your culture, absolutely! Revel in it. Learn all you want and can and strive to carry it forth to the next generation, and to teach anyone who wishes to listen. Absolutely do! Take pride in your accomplishments. Take pride in what you do to carry your culture forth into the future. Take pride in what you help others accomplish. Take pride in what you do to raise public awareness of the reality of your culture. Or your sexuality. Or gender identity. Or any other aspect of your being that is being woefully misrepresented somewhere.  But don’t take pride in simply being what you are. 

Because that’s just part of the completely random toolbox you got at birth - a toolbox you could not have possibly chosen any part of.

Taking pride OR feeling shame over things that you had no hand in is something you have no right or reason to do.

Never judge anyone - not even yourself - by what they have. Judge only by what they DO with what they have.

These thoughts have all been spawned by my time on tumblr. It’s a community that wants to be progressive and inclusive, but is much too often anything but. It’s all complaining, all vitriol, all salt, all echo chambers fostering this kind of thinking. Very little, if any, actual attempts at working towards real improvement.

I remember seeing a comic that circulated some time ago. About equality vs equity. There were these three kids standing by a fence, trying to watch a game of some sport or another taking place at the other side. They were all different height. 

In the equality picture, all three kids got a box to stand on, of equal size.

In the equity picture, they got a different amount of boxes, making it so all of them could see over the fence.

But there was a third picture. One rarely included. 

This picture adressed the fence itself. It swapped the wooden fence to a wire fence. One that all three kinds could see the game through, without any need of boxes.

That’s the kind of world I’d much rather live in. One where the barrier itself is adressed. Where there is no need for boxes to stand on. 

Yet all anyone can really, truly do, is do as Michael Jackson said, and start with the man in the mirror.

We can complain. We can decry. We can wallow. But it’s all for naught if we don’t then step up and act on it.

I'm sick and tired of the ceaseless complaining without action and the oppressive feeling of helplessness fostered here. I want to actually DO something to help the world be better. And if I’m not in a position where I can help personally, I can at least reach out to those in a position to do so.

This is why I donate to charity whenever I can afford it, despite my miniscule budget of a university student on sick leave with a lot of medical fees.

This is why I endeavor to always smile to strangers, be they the retail worker at the checkout, a simple passerby or the cold beggar on the street.

This is why I am always eager to share what I know with people who may need it, be it pointers about mental health or simply how to patch up a torn pair of pants.

All minuscule, inconsequential acts in the grand scheme of things. But it’s something. It’s my small straw, pulled to the anthill. Makes me feel just a little tiny bit less helpless about all the terrible things in the world.

Because even if it’s something small, it’s better than doing nothing. Far better than simply complaining and wallowing about a problem without ever following it up with action.

I don’t even know what I’m on about anymore. I should probably stop writing. Get something to eat. Go to sleep. Bye for now, then.

[awkwardnessandbaseball]

CS Countdown to Christmas

Look at me, making moves! Two in one day!

Dec 20: Christmas Wish

AKA: If Adam and Eddy can make up their own rules about adoption and the system, then so can I!

AO3

“I wish that I didn’t have to be alone on Christmas,” Emma shut her eyes tightly, wishing on the shooting star that had passed by her bedroom window. After a moment, she opened them, taking a deep breath.

Emma Swan was what her social worker called precocious. She knew that was code for “difficult”. She was smart for her age – ten and three-quarters – and it often got her into trouble with her foster families and the people who ran the group homes she stayed in.

She was never in one place for long.

But no matter what, whether she was with a family or in a group home with what felt like thousands of other little girls, she always found herself alone on Christmas. No gifts, no stocking, no chocolate chip cookies. And Emma wanted, just this once, to spend this Christmas with another person who maybe cared about her a little tiny bit.

It didn’t bode well for her wish that a foster family had just sent her back a week ago, and now there were only three days left until that fateful holiday. Emma had barely even unpacked her things, in hopes that she’d be somewhere warm with a family who sang cheesy Christmas carols and had traditions that she could be a part of. She knew, really, that three days wasn’t enough time, but she wished and wished and wished anyway.

She fell asleep early that night, clutching her blanket for good luck, and still wishing on shooting stars she couldn’t see.

She woke up in the middle of the night to find the girls in her room going through her bags.

“Hey! That’s mine!”

She didn’t have much – mostly just hand-me-down clothes from former foster siblings, and a few things she’d kept over the years. She’d made it a habit to take something that reminded her of every town she called home, even for only a moment – a keychain here, a bottle opener there. She didn’t do anything with them, but she liked to remember all the places she’d been. Because whenever things got tough, she could look at her collection and see how much she’d already been through.

She was beginning to see why they called her precocious.

“What do you need a magnet for? You don’t have a fridge,” a particularly nasty girl named Fiona sneered as she picked up a magnet with Boston written in bright orange letters.

“It’s a keepsake,” Emma whispered.

“You don’t get to keep things here.” Fiona wrinkled her nose. “Sleep tight, Emma.” She sauntered off, her friends following close behind.

Before she could think better of it, Emma quietly re-packed all of the things they’d thrown about in their search. She refolded clothes and tucked them gingerly away. Then she grabbed her bag and her blanket and made her way to the back door. It had a broken latch, and the older girls sometimes snuck out of it to smoke. She pushed it open gently, making sure the coast was clear, and then she was gone.

She was cold, but she made her way to the center of town, trying her best to remember the route her social worker had taken. She’d heard there was a place near the park where a lot of orphans spent their nights when the system became too much for them. She was peering down an alley, not looking where she was going, when she collided with a tall, firm body. Hard. And down she went.

“Shit, sweetheart, are you okay? Did I hurt you? I didn’t see you there.”

A man with curly brown hair and eyes like the sea was kneeling in front of her, not touching her for fear he’d hurt her.

“’M okay,” she mumbled.

“What are you doing out so late? You can’t be more than ten. Do you need me to take you home?” He sounded worried, but he didn’t even know her.

“I don’t have a home,” Emma said quickly. “And I’m ten and three-quarters.”

The man nodded in understanding, then offered her his hand to help her up.

“Well we can’t have a little girl aged ten and three-quarters running around town at midnight by herself. There must be someone we can call?”

Emma shook her head, trying not to cry – there was no one she could call, and she couldn’t go back to that horrible group home again. Not after Fiona had taken her stuff.

“I’ve got a brother around your age. I know um…,” the man looked nervous. “I know it’s not generally advisable to go home with strangers, but you really shouldn’t be out here at night. Would you like to come back to mine? I’ve got an air mattress tucked away somewhere we can inflate for you.”

Emma stared at the man for a moment, trying to detect any danger or malice, but there was none. His eyes were kind and his smile was honest. She nodded her head.

“Lovely, it’s just a block this way.”

They walked together in silence until the man turned up the pathway towards a small house on the corner. The lights were all off besides one all the way off to the right, and the man grumbled a bit when he noticed it. As soon as his keys were in the lock, the light flicked off suddenly.

“Killian, I know you’re up. No use pretending. We’ve got a visitor.”

Footsteps came towards them from down the hall.

“Liam, I already know Santa isn’t real, so there’s no—oh. Hello.” Killian appeared to be just a year or so older than Emma. He was taller, but not by much, and his blue eyes matched his brother’s.

Liam, he’d said.

“Hi,” Emma said quietly, raising her hand in greeting. “I’m um…Emma.”

“Emma, this is Killian, my brother. He’s supposed to be asleep, but apparently twelve-year-old boys are no better than ten-year-old girls when it comes to sleeping habits.”

Killian blushed a bit at his brother’s words, but his eyes still hadn’t left Emma’s.

“Who are you?” Killian finally looked at his brother. “Who is she?”

“Uh, well…” Liam was at a loss, clearly unsure how to answer.

“I’m an orphan and I ran away from my stupid foster home because the girls were stealing my stuff and then your brother found me and now I’m here,” Emma was blinking back tears – she probably looked so pathetic to these boys, who probably knew nothing of loss or sadness or loneliness.

Liam eyed Killian carefully, and Killian nodded the same way Liam had when Emma had told him she didn’t have a home.

“You’ll stay with us then,” Killian declared.

“Killian, it’s not that simple.”

“Then make it that simple, brother. We have this whole house to ourselves, with a spare room just waiting for someone to fill it.” Killian was nearly begging.

“I don’t…um…I don’t want to impose. I just…,” Emma was startled by the intensity of Killian’s voice, of how much he seemed to understand of her situation.

“You’ll at least stay through Christmas, Emma. We’ll figure everything else out after. I’m sure you’ve got a social worker who will be worried sick when the home you’re staying in finds you’ve gone missing, but we can deal with that in the morning. For now, Killian will you please find the air mattress for Emma?” Liam took charge, firm but with nothing but kindness in his voice.

“Nonsense, Liam, I’ll take the air mattress, or I’ll bunk with you for the night at least. Emma, you can take my bed.”

“You don’t have to--,”

“I insist,” Killian took Emma’s bag from her arm and led her down the hall through an open door. He flicked the light on and Emma stared open-mouthed. On every surface were ships in bottles, Lego ships, models of ships. He had maps on his walls of places real and imaginary. His room was beautiful. He noticed her staring and blushed again, apologizing for the mess.

“Don’t apologize. Your room is really cool. I’ve never…had a room of my own,” Emma stared at the ground.

“Well um, you can pretend this is your room for tonight, if you want.”

“Thanks, Killian. You and your brother are really nice. You don’t have to be so nice.”

“Sure we do. Everyone should be nice to people who deserve it,” Killian replied seriously. Emma smiled at him. “Anyway, Liam and I will be just down the hall,” he pointed at one of the doors. “If you need anything, just yell, or come knock, or whatever.”

“Thank you, Killian.”

He nodded and closed the door, leaving her alone.

Emma fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

She awoke to the smell of melting chocolate. She crept down the hall, listening to Killian and Liam talk in the kitchen.

“When mother died and father left, if I hadn’t had you, I could have ended up just like her.”

“I know that, Killian.”

“I’m just saying. We’ve got to…we’ve got to be able to help her somehow.”

“I don’t think bringing a kid home is as easy as saying ‘I want to help’, unfortunately. Much as I’d like to.”

“Can’t you at least ask?”

“I’ll get her social worker’s phone number when she wakes up, see what they want to do about it.”

“I want to help her, Liam.”

“As do I, little brother.”

Emma purposely made some noise coming around the corner, so they’d know she was coming, but they wouldn’t think she’d been there the whole time. Killian’s face brightened when he saw her.

“Good morning, Emma. Did you sleep well?”

Emma nodded.

“Your bed is really comfy. You can have it back tonight, if you want.”

“No, it’s yours for as long as you need it. I think I will blow up the air mattress tonight though,” Killian lowered his voice to a whisper, “Liam snores.”

“I do not!”

Emma laughed, wishing, not for the first time, that she had siblings to bicker with like this. Someone who would have been there through all of the tough times and supported her during the good ones.

“Do you two want chocolate chip pancakes or not?” Liam eyed them both with a stern look, but he broke out in a smile.

“Yes, please!” Killian and Emma found themselves screaming in unison.

After they ate, Emma began clearing the plates.

“Emma, what are you doing?”

“Cleaning up,” her eyes went wide. Had she done something wrong?

“No need, little love, I’ll take care of that. You go play with Killian.”

Killian led her back to his room, where he grabbed a deck of cards.

“Do you know how to play Spit?”

He spent the rest of the morning teaching her how to play all sorts of card games, and she wished she could stay there forever and learn more and more from him, but then Liam interrupted them for lunch and said they should probably call her social worker.

She recited the number she knew by heart, and Liam plugged it into his cell phone and then handed it to her while it rang.

“Hello!?” Regina sounded frantic, rushed.

“Hi, Regina.”

“Emma? Where the hell are you? I showed up at your group home this morning and you were gone, they didn’t even notice, those self-involved—”

“I’m at a house. A really nice man named Liam and his little brother Killian gave me a place to sleep last night. They’re really nice, Regina.”

Regina let out a shaky breath.

“Can I talk to the nice man, Emma?”

Emma handed the phone to Liam, and she could hear Regina yelling before the phone was even up to his ear. She couldn’t make out the words, but Liam winced enough for her to know it was bad. They’d never let her stay here now.

“Regina, is it? Look, I know how this looks, but I found Emma on the street and she was cold and terrified. I only gave her a place to sleep and some chocolate chip pancakes to eat. My brother’s around her age, they’ve been playing all morning.” He paused while Regina talked, at a much lower volume now. “Jones. Yes. Yes. No. I’m not sure. Okay.” He rattled off a street address, rolling his eyes as he did so. He hung up the phone and then looked at Emma. “She’ll be here in thirty minutes.”

“Is she taking me back? I can’t go back there, Liam, it was awful.”

“I’m going to do everything I can, Emma, but I’m not sure how much that is.”

The fun of the card games and chocolate chip pancakes wore off quickly, and they ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in silence, Emma staring at the star on top of the tiny Christmas tree in the living room, wishing once again that she could please, please, please not be alone on Christmas.

A firm knock on the door signaled Regina’s arrival. Liam welcomed her in, and Regina looked around the living room. She didn’t look entirely displeased, which was a start, at least. Liam took her on a tour of the house, saving the spare room for last. Emma followed close behind, eager to see the only room she hadn’t been shown.

It was completely bare, but still clean. The closet doors were open, full of summer clothes in a variety of sizes.

“You’d need furniture,” Regina said simply.

Liam, Killian, and Emma all looked at her in confusion. She rolled her eyes.

“If you plan to keep a little girl in this house, you’ll need a place for her to sleep. And a dresser for her clothes, since this closet is full. It’ll also need a paint job.”

“You’re letting me stay?” Emma whispered.

“There’ll be a lot of paperwork involved. But I’ve been on your case a long time, Emma, and I’ve never seen anyone look at you the way these two boys do. They obviously care for you already, much like I do.” She turned to Liam. “I did my research on you before I came here, Mr. Jones. I know you’ve been raising Killian since he was Emma’s age, and it seems that his grades and attendance have improved since you became his primary caretaker. I’m not saying it’ll be easy, but if you’d like to foster Miss Swan, I think we can make it happen.”

****

On Christmas morning, Emma woke up in Killian’s bed once more. There was no melting chocolate in the air, but she was excited anyway. Her first Christmas in a home where someone cared about her! There were voices coming from an unfamiliar direction – Killian and Liam weren’t in the kitchen, or in Liam’s room.

She crept out into the hallway and was surprised to hear noise coming, instead, from the spare room. What could they possibly be doing in there. She was about to knock when the door opened in front of her.

“Emma!” Killian looked surprised. “You weren’t supposed to wake up yet. It’s not ready.” He blushed, realizing he’d revealed something he wasn’t supposed to.

“What’s not?”

“Your room,” he whispered. He opened the door, revealing Liam on the ground, sweating, attempting to assemble a bed.

“You’ve brought her in? It’s not ready, Killian.”

“She was in the hall, about to knock. Not my fault you’re so loud.”

“This bed is ridiculous. It’s causing me far too much stress for Christmas morning. Lucky Regina was able to find something, but I do wish she’d found something with instructions in English.” He turned to Emma. “I’d hoped to have it ready when you woke up, but I suppose the surprise is ruined. Merry Christmas, little love.”

Emma didn’t care that he was sweaty and gross, or that she was still in her pajamas and hadn’t even brushed her teeth. She ran over to Liam and hugged him so hard he nearly fell over.

“Thank you,” she whispered. Killian cleared his throat behind her. She turned to find Killian still blushing, scratching behind his ear.

She ran and hugged him, too, thanking him at least a hundred times.

That night, after Liam and Killian had exchanged gifts, and they’d all help put Emma’s clothes away in her new dresser, Killian and Emma sat together in her new bed.

“I guess you get your bed back, finally.”

“The air mattress wasn’t so bad, but I’ll be glad to be surrounded by my ships again.”

“They’re very nice. I like your room.”

“Would you like one?” Killian asked her.

“One of your ships?” Emma’s mouth fell open. Killian nodded, and before she could answer, he left the room. He returned with a beautiful model of a pirate ship, Jewel of the Realm inscribed along the side in childish scrawl.

“This is the first one I built myself.” Killian placed the ship on Emma’s dresser.

“You don’t have to--,”

“I know. I want you to have it,” he smiled at her.

“Can I tell you something?”

“Of course!” He sat besides her on the bed again, eager to hear whatever secret she was about to share.

“The night I ran away, I saw a shooting star. And I wished on it that I wouldn’t be alone on Christmas. And then I left and Liam found me and now I’m here.”

Killian grinned.

“Sounds like magic to me.”

**

TEN YEARS LATER

“Emma, you do not need to bring that thing every time we visit Liam.”

“I refuse to sleep in your old room unless there’s at least one ship in it. It’s just not your room if there are no ships.” She was carrying her own bag and the ship Killian had given her on her first Christmas in the Jones household.

“There are smaller ones we can bring,” he pleaded. The pirate ship was ridiculous. It was big and it was fragile, and Liam constantly teased him for the childish writing on the side.

“But this is the one you gave me,” Emma looked up at him. “It’s the one that means the most.”

He could deny her nothing. He kissed her softly and took the ship from her hands.

“Fine. But I’m blaming you if it falls apart because we take it back and forth so much.”

“Killian, I’d never let it break. It’s the first gift you ever gave me.” Her voice had turned serious, and he knew she meant every word.

“Well, it’s far from the last.” He kissed her again as they reached the door. It opened before they could knock.

“Little brother!” Liam yelled.

“Younger,” Killian grumbled.

“Little love,” Liam kissed Emma’s cheek. She grinned and returned the kiss. “You brought the ship again?”

“Had to,” Killian rolled his eyes.

They settled in for dinner, catching up on all the things that had happened since Emma and Killian had returned for Thanksgiving a month prior. Emma glanced at the tiny Christmas tree in the living room again, wishing and hoping that Killian would be happy with the gift she’d gotten him.

They sat in their usual places in the living room, a small pile of gifts in front of each of them. Liam went first, opening a case of beer Killian had brought back from Ireland when he and Emma had visited.

Killian went next, eyeing Emma carefully when he picked up the flat gift addressed to him in her handwriting.

“What’s this, then?” he asked.

“Open it and find out.” Her heart was beating too fast, in this living room where she’d spent seven solid Christmases. The living room where she and Killian had fought when he’d left for college, where she’d confessed she had feelings for him, where he’d kissed her the first time. It seemed the right place to share any type of news.

Killian opened the packet carefully, unsure and still looking at Emma with suspicion in his eyes. The gift wrap revealed a folder, which he opened slowly.

“Emma, what is this?” He read from the top down, seeing doctors’ signatures and names of tests he didn’t recognize, until finally, he came across the answer. “You’re pregnant?” He looked up at her, and this was the moment she’d been excited for and afraid of. He could be ecstatic or angry, he could want to keep it or not. They hadn’t talked about having kids so soon, so young. He’d only just graduated college.

“Are you mad?”

“How long have you known?”

“Only a week.”

“You’ve spent a week thinking I could possibly be mad about this?” He kissed her, and they were both crying, and Liam was crying but pretending not to be. And it was a whole mess, but it was the best mess Emma Swan had ever found herself in. “You’d better open your gift from me next.”

She looked at her small pile, but everything was from Liam or had been mailed from Regina. There were no boxes signed with Killian’s name.

“Ah, right. I didn’t wrap it. It’s in the ship.” Killian gestured to where he’d put the Jewel of the Realm over on the dining table.

“You didn’t even want to bring the ship!” Emma swatted his arm.

“I knew you’d insist,” he grinned at her. “Go on, then.”

Emma stood and walked towards the table, trying to see where her gift was.

“Ah, I forgot I never told you about this.” Killian appeared beside her. He lifted the ship and pushed one of the pieces on the bottom, revealing a hidden compartment. “I used to hide my money in there, when Dad was around. Now, it’s just hiding…this.”

Emma should have been more surprised to see a ring in his hand. But of course he was proposing on Christmas, and of course it was in the home they’d grown up in together. Because he felt the same connection to the house that she did, despite the fact that they’d moved into an apartment near his college two years prior.

“Emma, I fell in love with you in this house. I think I loved you the moment Liam brought you home, even if it took me a while to realize it. I’ve wanted to ask you this question for ages, but being home for Christmas just felt like the right time. I hope I’m right. Emma, will you marry me?”

“Yes! Of course, I’ll marry you!”

And they were crying more, and Liam was hugging them, and if you’d told Emma Swan at age ten and three-quarters that she’d find a home and fall in love and end up engaged and pregnant on Christmas, she would have looked at you like you were telling her some fairy tale she didn’t dare to believe in. And yet, here she was. Loved and in love, and all on Christmas, to boot.

[suzanneshannon]

A Gentle Introduction to Using a Docker Container as a Dev Environment

Sarcasm disclaimer: This article is mostly sarcasm. I do not think that I actually speak for Dylan Thomas and I would never encourage you to foist a light theme on people who don’t want it. No matter how wrong they may be.

When Dylan Thomas penned the words, “Do not go gentle into that good night,” he was talking about death. But if he were alive today, he might be talking about Linux containers. There is no way to know for sure because he passed away in 1953, but this is the internet, so I feel extremely confident speaking authoritatively on his behalf.

My confidence comes from a complete overestimation of my skills and intelligence coupled with the fact that I recently tried to configure a Docker container as my development environment. And I found myself raging against the dying of the light as Docker rejected every single attempt I made like I was me and it was King James screaming, “NOT IN MY HOUSE!”

Pain is an excellent teacher. And because I care about you and have no other ulterior motives, I want to use that experience to give you a “gentle” introduction to using a Docker container as a development environment. But first, let’s talk about whyyyyyyyyyyy you would ever want to do that.

kbutwhytho?

Close your eyes and picture this: a grown man dressed up like a fox.

Wait. No. Wrong scenario.

Instead, picture a project that contains not just your source code, but your entire development environment and all the dependencies and runtimes your app needs. You could then give that project to anyone anywhere (like the fox guy) and they could run your project without having to make a lick of configuration changes to their own environment.

This is exactly what Docker containers do. A Dockerfile defines an entire runtime environment with a single file. All you would need is a way to develop inside of that container.

Wait for it…

VS Code and Remote – Containers

VS Code has an extension called Remote – Containers that lets you load a project inside a Docker container and connect to it with VS Code. That’s some Inception-level stuff right there. (Did he make it out?! THE TALISMAN NEVER ACTUALLY STOPS SPINNING.) It’s easier to understand if we (and by “we” I mean you) look at it in action.

Adding a container to a project

Let’s say for a moment that you are on a high-end gaming PC that you built for your kids and then decided to keep if for yourself. I mean, why exactly do they deserve a new computer again? Oh, that’s right. They don’t. They can’t even take out the trash on Sundays even though you TELL THEM EVERY WEEK.

This is a fresh Windows machine with WSL2 and Docker installed, but that’s all. Were you to try and run a Node.js project on this machine, Powershell would tell you that it has absolutely no idea what you are reffering to and maybe you mispelled something. Which, in all fairness, you do suck at spelling. Remember that time in 4ᵗʰ grade when you got knocked out of the first round of the spelling bee because you couldn’t spell “fried.” FRYED? There’s no “Y” in there!

Now this is not a huge problem — you could always skip off and install Node.js. But let’s say for a second that you can’t be bothered to do that and you’re pretty sure that skipping is not something adults do.

Instead, we can configure this project to run in a container that already has Node.js installed. Now, as I’ve already discussed, I have no idea how to use Docker. I can barely use the microwave. Fortunately, VS Code will configure your project for you — to an extent.

From the Command Palette, there is an “Add Development Container Configuration Files…” command. This command looks at your project and tries to add the proper container definition.

In this case, VS Code knows I’ve got a Node project here, so I’ll just pick Node.js 14. Yes, I am aware that 12 is LTS right now, but it’s gonna be 14 in [checks watch] one month and I’m an early adopter, as is evidenced by my interest in container technology just now in 2020.

This will add a .devcontainer folder with some assets inside. One is a Dockerfile that contains the Node.js image that we’re going to use, and the other is a devcontainer.json that has some project level configuration going on.

Now, before we touch anything and break it all (we’ll get to that, trust me), we can select “Rebuild and Reopen in Container” from the Command Palette. This will restart VS Code and set about building the container. Once it completes (which can take a while the first time if you’re not on a high-end gaming PC that your kids will never know the joys of), the project will open inside of the container. VS Code is connected to the container, and you know that because it says so in the lower left-hand corner.

Now if we open the terminal in VS Code, Powershell is conspicously absent because we are not on Windows anymore, Dorthy. We are now in a Linux container. And we can both npm install and npm start in this magical land.

This is an Express App, so it should be running on port 3000. But if you try and visit that port, it won’t load. This is because we need to map a port in the container to 3000 on our localhost. As one does.

Fortunately, there is a UI for this.

The Remote Containers extension puts a “Remote Explorer” icon in the Action Bar. Which is on the left-hand side for you, but the right-hand side for me. Because I moved it and you should too.

There are three sections here, but look at the bottom one which says “Port Forwarding,” I’m not the sandwich with the most lettuce, but I’m pretty sure that’s what we want here. You can click on the “Forward a Port” and type “3000,” Now if we try and hit the app from the browser…

Mostly things, “just worked.” But the configuration is also quite simple. Let’s look at how we can start to customize this setup by automating some of the aspects of the project itself. Project specific configuration is done in the devcontainer.json file.

Automating project configuration

First off, we can automate the port forwarding by adding a forwardPorts variable and specifying 3000 as the value. We can also automate the npm install command by specifying the postCreateCommand property. And let’s face it, we could all stand to run AT LEAST one less npm install.

{   // ...   // Use 'forwardPorts' to make a list of ports inside the container available locally.   "forwardPorts": [3000],   // Use 'postCreateCommand' to run commands after the container is created.   "postCreateCommand": "npm install",   // ... }

Additionally, we can include VS Code extensions. The VS Code that runs in the Docker container does not automatically get every extension you have installed. You have to install them in the container, or just include them like we’re doing here.

Extensions like Prettier and ESLint are perfect for this kind of scenario. We can also take this opportunity to foist a light theme on everyone because it turns out that dark themes are worse for reading and comprehension. I feel like a prophet.

// For format details, see https://aka.ms/vscode-remote/devcontainer.json or this file's README at: // https://github.com/microsoft/vscode-dev-containers/tree/v0.128.0/containers/javascript-node-14 {   // ...   // Add the IDs of extensions you want installed when the container is created.   "extensions": [     "dbaeumer.vscode-eslint",     "esbenp.prettier-vscode",     "GitHub.github-vscode-theme"   ]   // ... }

If you’re wondering where to find those extension ID’s, they come up in intellisense (Ctrl/Cmd + Shift) if you have them installed. If not, search the extension marketplace, right-click the extension and say “Copy extension ID.” Or even better, just select “Add to devcontainer.json.”

By default, the Node.js container that VS Code gives you has things like git and cURL already installed. What it doesn’t have, is “cowsay,” And we can’t have a Linux environment without cowsay. That’s in the Linux bi-laws (it’s not). I don’t make the rules. We need to customize this container to add that.

Automating environment configuration

This is where things went off the rails for me. In order to add software to a development container, you have to edit the Dockerfile. And Linux has no tolerance for your shenanigans or mistakes.

The base Docker container that you get with the container configurations in VS Code is Debian Linux. Debian Linux uses the apt-get dependency manager.

apt-get install cowsay

We can add this to the end of the Dockerfile. Whenever you install something from apt-get, run an apt-get update first. This command updates the list of packages and package repos so that you have the most current list cached. If you don’t do this, the container build will fail and tell you that it can’t find “cowsay.”

# To fully customize the contents of this image, use the following Dockerfile instead: # https://github.com/microsoft/vscode-dev-containers/tree/v0.128.0/containers/javascript-node-14/.devcontainer/Dockerfile FROM mcr.microsoft.com/vscode/devcontainers/javascript-node:0-14 # ** Install additional packages ** RUN apt-get update \   && apt-get -y install cowsay

A few things to note here…

That RUN command is a Docker thing and it creates a new “layer.” Layers are how the container knows what has changed and what in the container needs to be updated when you rebuild it. They’re kind of like cake layers except that you don’t want a lot of them because enormous cakes are awesome. Enormous containers are not. You should try and keep related logic together in the same RUN command so that you don’t create unnecessary layers.

That \ denotes a line break at the end of a line. You need it for multi-line commands. Leave it off and you will know the pain of many failed Docker builds.

The && is how you add an additional command to the RUN line. For the love of god, don’t forget that \ on the previous line.

The -y flag is important because by default, apt-get is going to prompt you to ensure you really want to install what you just tried to install. This will cause the container build to fail because there is nobody there to say Y or N. The -y flag is shorthand for “don’t bother me with your silly confirmation prompts”. Apparently everyone is supposed to know this already. I didn’t know it until about four hours ago. 

Use the command prompt to select “Rebuild Container”…

And, just like that…

It doesn’t work.

This the first lesson in what I like to call, “Linux Vertigo.” There are so many distributions of Linux and they don’t all handle things the same way. It can be difficult to figure out why things work in one place (Mac, WSL2) and don’t work in others. The reason why “cowsay” isn’t available, is that Debian puts “cowsay” in /usr/games, which is not included in the PATH environment variable.

One solution would be to add it to the PATH in the Dockerfile. Like this…

FROM mcr.microsoft.com/vscode/devcontainers/javascript-node:0-14 RUN apt-get update \   && apt-get -y install cowsay ENV PATH="/usr/games:${PATH}"

EXCELLENT. We’re solving real problems here, folks. People like cow one-liners. I bullieve I herd that somewhere.

To summarize, project configuration (forwarding ports, installing project depedencies, ect) is done in the “devcontainer.json” and enviornment configuration (installing software) is done in the “Dockerfile.” Now let’s get brave and try something a little more edgy.

Advanced configuration

Let’s say for a moment that you have a gorgeous, glammed out terminal setup that you really want to put in the container as well. I mean, just because you are developing in a container doesn’t mean that your terminal has to be boring. But you also wouldn’t want to reconfigure your pretentious zsh setup for every project that you open. Can we automate that too? Let’s find out.

Fortunately, zsh is already installed in the image that you get. The only trouble is that it’s not the default shell when the container opens. There are a lot of ways that you can make zsh the default shell in a normal Docker scenario, but none of them will work here. This is because you have no control over the way the container is built.

Instead, look again to the trusty devcontainer.json file. In it, there is a "settings" block. In fact, there is a line already there showing you that the default terminal is set to "/bin/bash". Change that to "/bin/zsh".

// Set *default* container specific settings.json values on container create. "settings": {   "terminal.integrated.shell.linux": "/bin/zsh" }

By the way, you can set ANY VS Code setting there. Like, you know, moving the sidebar to the right-hand side. There – I fixed it for you.

// Set default container specific settings.json values on container create. "settings": { "terminal.integrated.shell.linux": "/bin/zsh", "workbench.sideBar.location": "right" },

And how about those pretentious plugins that make you better than everyone else? For those you are going to need your .zshrc file. The container already has oh-my-zsh in it, and it’s in the “root” folder. You just need to make sure you set the path to ZSH at the top of the .zshrc so that it points to root. Like this…

# Path to your oh-my-zsh installation. export ZSH="/root/.oh-my-zsh" 
 # Set name of the theme to load --- if set to "random", it will # load a random theme each time oh-my-zsh is loaded, in which case, # to know which specific one was loaded, run: echo $RANDOM_THEME # See https://github.com/ohmyzsh/ohmyzsh/wiki/Themes ZSH_THEME="cloud" 
 # Which plugins would you like to load? plugins=(zsh-autosuggestions nvm git) 
 source $ZSH/oh-my-zsh.sh

Then you can copy in that sexy .zshrc file to the root folder in the Dockerfile. I put that .zshrc file in the .devcontainer folder in my project.

COPY .zshrc /root/.zshrc

And if you need to download a plugin before you install it, do that in the Dockerfile with a RUN command. Just remember to group all of these into one command since each RUN is a new layer. You are nearly a container expert now. Next step is to write a blog post about it and instruct people on the ways of Docker like you invented the thing.

RUN git clone https://github.com/zsh-users/zsh-autosuggestions ${ZSH_CUSTOM:-~/.oh-my-zsh/custom}/plugins/zsh-autosuggestions

Look at the beautiful terminal! Behold the colors! The git plugin which tells you the branch and adds a lightning emoji! Nothing says, “I know what I’m doing” like a customized terminal. I like to take mine to Starbucks and just let people see it in action and wonder if I’m a celebrity.

Go gently

Hopefully you made it to this point and thought, “Geez, this guy is seriously overreacting. This is not that hard.” If so, I have successfully saved you. You are welcome. No need to thank me. Yes, I do have an Amazon wish list.

For more information on Remote Containers, including how to do things like add a database or use Docker Compose, check out the official Remote Container docs, which provide much more clarity with 100% less neurotic commentary.

The post A Gentle Introduction to Using a Docker Container as a Dev Environment appeared first on CSS-Tricks.

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A Gentle Introduction to Using a Docker Container as a Dev Environment published first on https://deskbysnafu.tumblr.com/

[myselfinserts]

I can’t do it on command!

Life for Caelum Arner has always been hit and miss. From a young age, he knew he wouldn’t be able to live a normal life. His quirk, a pesky little nuisance his mother called Hexed, caused him to forever have moments where he became a ghost to world. 

It was a simple enough power, in concept. He could phase through things, turn invisible, the typical ghosty things. But it wasn’t like normal ghost powers. He couldn’t control when he phased. Or when he vanished. And it wasn’t as simple as turning transparent. In reality, it was more like he ended up in a parallel dimension. Or a void space. He could still see and move within their normal reality, but it was as if he existed just on the outside. Like being on one side of a window, staring into a house. 

And of course, the quirk’s namesake, was both a result of his ghost like abilities, and of the blue hexagons that slowly took over one side of his face. 

Forever marked. 

Forever cursed.

Forever alone. 

Until that fateful day.

Caelum didn’t know why he decided to leave the house that cold December morning. He’d been phasing through everything left, right, and center. He couldn’t eat, and if it weren’t for the fact he had his clothes specially made, he almost didn’t get dressed. He screamed at the top of his lungs, frustration boiling over as he stormed out of his home. But no one seemed to notice he was there. He walked right through the mail man and the paper boy, and even into oncoming traffic without even thinking. But the bus full of people didn’t even see him. 

As he walked around town, he tried to come up with a reason he left home instead of just sitting there waiting for his quirk to stop working. He supposed the rational reason would be groceries since his stores were almost empty, but he had those set up to be delivered. Perhaps it was to try and get some exercise. No. No, he already did his morning routine. Right down to the treadmill until he started falling through it. Maybe he left home to get some fresh air? No, he could just open a window if he were that desperate. 

No, there wasn’t really a reason for him to be outside today. 

If someone ever saw him and asked, he could probably say it’s because of the flurry. He rather did like the snow. Seeing his steps indented into the cold white was reassuring. 

But right now, he left not a single mark. 

I shouldn’t be out here.

And yet, he was there. Making his way through the local park as people walked right through him. With every passing civilian, the more his sense of being began to diminish. No matter how hard he focused, he couldn’t get it to cooperate today. Hexed seemed determined to keep him from the world. He’d occasionally glance behind, hoping to see some kind of indent of his footprints in the snow. 

The only steps were those of others.

Please God, he prayed. Someone. Anyone. Look at me. Talk to me. Touch me. Please. Even for just a second. Let someone see me. I’m begging you. 

He slowly approached a nearby crosswalk, his mind slowly growing blank. 

See me. 

See me. 

See me. 

“That’s an interesting quirk you have there.”

Caelum stopped in his tracks, a shiver running up his spine as he turned around, mind now at full alert. A few people still phased through him. But they also moved aside, going around the man that had on a pair of sunglasses, a white scarf, and a long, navy trench coat. His hair was green and tied back into a pony tail, and his expression seemed rather excited, if barely readable. 

“I’m sorry?” Caelum replied. 

The man smiled, stepping in closer. “I said, that’s an interesting quirk you have there.”

“Wait, you...you can see me?”

“Not exactly.” He tapped the frame of his glasses. “New heat signature glasses, stronger than current readers. Still in the testing phase. And I can’t exactly hear you. I’m reading your lips. I’ve gotten quite good at that.”

“Th-that’s fine, I just-” Caelum could barely contain himself, eyes welling with tears. “God. I didn’t expect...I mean. It’s just-”

The man stepped forward, holding out his hand to him. “I’m sorry if your grip just phases through, but I still want to be polite and offer a handshake. My name is Anton.”

Caelum hesitantly reached out, barely managing to mimic a grip, which Anton returned in kind. “My name is Caelum.”

“Like the constellation.”

“Uh...right.” Caelum chuckled a little, blushing slightly. “Mom was really into astronomy.” 

Anton nodded in understanding. “She picked a good name for you.” 

“Thank you.” He looked around, noticing some people stopping to watch and whisper. “I think I better go. People are starting to stare at you. You probably look crazy to them.”

“I can assure you, that isn’t why they’re staring,” Anton sighed. “But if you’d like, we can continue our conversation in private. I think there’s a coffee shop nearby-”

“Actually, can we go to my house?”

Anton raised an eyebrow at him. “Rather bold of you.”

Caelum started to panic. “No, I’m not- that is-” He tugged at his hair, wishing he’d kept his mouth shut. “I’d phase right through the chair. And wouldn’t be able to join you for a drink. And it’d still look like you’re talking to yourself. I don’t...I don’t want that.”

“I see.” Anton took a quick glance around. “Lead the way then. Which direction?”

“Right, um. Th-this way.” 

Caelum lead him back to his house, taking care not to walk too far ahead of Anton. As they continued their walk, more people phased through him. People, a couple of dogs. A bird flying off with a rat at one point. Not at all out of the norm for him. But he noticed that as they went, Anton seemed to keep a close eye on him. Almost as though he were observing a wild animal at the zoo. 

It was unsettling. And yet, he found himself welcoming it. 

Anton let out a soft hum as they entered the neighborhood. “A lovely spot. Nice housing.”

“Thank you. I quite like it.” They turned into the yard of the only blue house on the street, heading up to the door. “It’s unlocked so you should be able to-”

TWACK!

Caelum stumbled back, his head aching as he tried to stay on his feet. He’d intended just to phase through. Instead, his quirk chose that moment to stop working. 

Of fucking course. 

“Are you alright?!” Anton quickly rushed up, catching him and keeping him steady. “Damn, that must have hurt.”

“It’s fine! I’m used to it!” Caelum snapped, his frustration bubbling up again as he stormed inside. “This always happens. Turning the damn Hexed on and off is impossible. I can’t do it on command! It’s infuriating!” 

The door clicked closed behind him, and Caelum immediately felt a wave of guilt about what he’d just done. He hadn’t meant to shout Anton, especially after only just meeting him. He turned to apologize.

And was completely taken aback. 

Anton had taken off his glasses, revealing the most beautiful purple eyes he’d ever seen. The white crosses in place of his pupils gave a little spin while slipping off his outer layers, exposing the strong, well toned frame beneath the white button up shirt and black dress pants. 

He’s...beautiful...

“What exactly do you do for a living?” Anton asked. “Because with your quick I don’t see you being able to hold a physical job.”

“I don’t,” Caelum said, surprised by the squeak in his voice. “I do freelance coding. Mostly for indie video games and various websites. I also test firewalls and stuff. Network security. All freelance. It’s easier than an office job.”

“Is that so?”

Cealum tilted his head. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I never had someone get angry at me after first meeting, and I find it refreshing. I’d like to hire you to come work for me, if you’re interested.”

“....Eh?”

Anton didn’t even seem to notice Cealum’s shock. “You’d be paid well. And I do plan on providing you with something to help stablize your quirk. It’ll just take a bit to get it ready. I’ll have to study you for a while. And probably need to analyze your DNA. Are your clothes specially made?”

Caelum just stared at him. 

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”

“No, uh...well...” He walked over to his couch, trying to think. “It’s just that I wasn’t exactly looking for a job, and now you’re saying you’d make me something to stablize my quirk? What are you, some kind of support designer?”

“I am. Anton Perun. I’m sure you’ve heard of my work with the recent Team Plasmia?”

Cealum nearly fell over. “THAT Perun? Wait, you’re- WOAH!” He landed on the floor with a hard thud. Of course his quirk would activate the moment he went to sit down.

Kill me now. Just end me. 

Anton didn’t seem too concerned this time. He simply went over and knelt beside him, his hand lightly brushing over the hexagons on his face. “Remarkable. So this is why you call it Hexed.” His gazed softened. “It must be frustrating having to go through this all the time. Please, let me try to help you.”

Caelum sat up, surprised when he solidified again, the sensation of Anton’s hand against his skin feeling rather pleasant. Near perfection. Everything he’d been hoping and praying for over his entire life since striking out on his own. 

He just wanted to be seen. 

He just wanted to be touched. 

He just wanted to be heard.

He couldn’t help it when he began to cry. 

“Okay. Thank you, Anton.”

Caelum sat very still as Anton helped him put on the replacement watch, feeling horrible about letting the first one be completely obliterated. It’d taken them years to perfect it. He didn’t understand how it could have just shattered like that. 

It honestly didn’t matter though. Right now, Caelum was phasing through everything, and had completely vanished from normal sight. Anton had to bring out the heat readers just to be able to get the watch on him. 

“Okay, hold still,” Anton said. “Like the last time, it might sting a little upon first use. Let me know if it’s too much.”

“I’ll be fine,” Caelum muttered. “I’m sorry for ruining the tour for your friend and her students. I didn’t-”

“We already checked the security footage. It wasn’t you. It was someone else.” Anton paused briefly. “The question now is what do you want to do about it? Since you were the one that was attacked.”

Sounds like he already knows who did it. Classic Anton. Caelum let out a sigh. “I just want to finish today. Put it behind me. I’ve already embarrassed us all enough as it is.” Anton shot him a look, and somehow, even behind the glasses, Caelum could tell he wasn’t too pleased with that response. “What?”

Anton turned the dial on the watch, causing it to whir to life. “Caelum, you didn’t embarrass anyone. Not me, not Rosine, and definitely not yourself. You were intentionally targeted for harm. Stop trying to paint this like some kind of accident at a holiday party.” 

As Caelum’s body began to solidify, Anton gently reached out to caress his cheek on his hexagonal side. Caulum waited until the sting faded, and when he felt the brush of fingers against his skin he leaned into them, closing his eyes to take in the heat. He’d forgotten how cold the parallel could be. Anton was always so warm. Like the perfect afternoon at the end of May, just as the summer heat was ready to begin. Every single time he’d go home, or when Anton wouldn’t be in the office because of a conference or a job, Caelum would crave this sensation. 

I wish we could just stay like this...

“I just want to get through today,” he finally answered. “I don’t want to linger on my disappearing act anymore. I’ve had enough of it. The quieter we handle this, the better.”

Anton nodded, withdrawing his hand. “So no Heroes or police? No charges?”

“No.”

“Nothing at all?”

Caelum thought for a moment, trying to think of a solution. “...I suppose blacklisting the culprit would be enough. Just so they don’t hurt anyone else.”

“Alright. That I can do.” Anton glanced behind him, motioning for Caelum to lie down. “Get some rest. I’ll be back after taking care of the fucker.”

“Are you sure? I can still do work-”

“I’d rather you take a moment to rest. That was a sudden shock, and right now the medical wing is the safest place for you until we escort the problem out.” 

He wasn’t wrong. Caelum had almost had a heart attack seeing his watch destoryed like that. He was terrified to go anywhere near the stairs or the elevator. He wasn’t sure if he’d have phased through the floor. It’d never happened before, but the fact that it was still a possibility terrified him. 

Had he fallen, he’d have never been seen again. 

No...no I don’t want that. Anything but that...please...

“...Okay. I’ll try to rest then.” Caelum climbed into bed, setting his glasses on the table beside him and made himself as comfortable as he could. 

Anton smiled, lightly ruffling his hair. “I’ll be right back, Caelum.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

With one last gentle touch, Caelum watched him go, a sharp pain deep in his chest as he saw that strong, confident frame disappear out the wing. He curled up tightly, covering his head with the blanket as he felt his entire face burn. 

Somehow, meeting Anton Perun had been the best luck of his life. 

And the worst luck just the same.

[artificialqueens]

Mrs. Needles, Thank You (Shalaska) - Josie

AN: Hi!! I originally posted this fic on ao3, but I’ve decided to submit it here, too, as a way to get more feedback n stuff. It’s basically pure smut. It’s the first thing I’ve written in years and it was originally supposed to be a oneshot but I’ve decided to keep updating it whenever I find a new weird/dirty/crazy kink that I think would be fun to write lmao. Anyways, Sharon takes the role of a trophy wife in here and Alaska’s a lawyer, which is (kinda??) important to the fic once I start posting more chapters. I hope y’all like it because I refuse to read it.

“Sharon, I’m leaving, I love you!” Alaska called out into the bedroom where her wife was currently sitting on the bed, still half asleep. No matter how many times Alaska woke her up at six in the morning she would never get used to it. Sharon walked over to Alaska rubbing her eyes and kissed her on the lips.

“How long are you going to be at work today, Lasky?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart. Not too long, hopefully. I’m finishing up the case.” Alaska smiled, patting Sharon’s scraggly hair down. She saw the little glint in Sharon’s eye as she did it. Sharon pulled the blonde into a hug, yawning into Alaska’s neck. She could fall asleep right there. Alaska pulled back and kissed her on the forehead. “Go back to sleep baby. I love you. I’ll see you later.”

Sharon mumbled an incoherent ‘I love you too’ as Alaska left the house.

Alaska reached her work building with a yawn and a scowl, seeing her coworker’s rig outside. He always tried to hit on her, apparently not getting the face that she was a lesbian with a wife. She enjoyed the attention, though. Pulling her hair up into a loose bun as she walked into her office, she saw Russell on the other side of the room talking to their boss. He turned around quickly and smiled, and it took everything she had not to roll her eyes.

“Morning, Russ.”

“Good morning, miss. How are you?” Mrs., she corrected in her head.

“I am fine. Please leave my office.” His smile faltered for half a second before getting up and leaving, closing the door gently behind him. At that exact moment, Alaska felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. She swiftly opened and unlocked it to see a picture message from Sharon. She was in the shower. It wasn’t uncommon for Sharon to send Alaska pictures of herself at work, but so quickly and boldly was unusual for her. Alaska stared at the picture lovingly, noticing the drops of water cascading down her wife’s body, following the line that starts directly under her perky tits down to her belly button. Alaska got up and closed the blinds to her office, locking the door and sitting down in the desk chair.

She unbuttoned the button on her pants and looked back at the photo, silently thanking God for her wife. Her fingers dipped below her waistline, feeling the lacy panties she had put on that morning. Fingerpads made their way across her thighs to her clit, lightly rubbing. Her fingers felt lower, spreading the wetness that had accumulated up to her folds. A slight moan left her lips as she texted Sharon back.

You shouldn’t have done that. Bad girl. But I’ll forgive you.

She opened the photo in full screen, staring at her wife’s tits, wandering lower and lower, to her belly button, and even lower, until the picture cut off. She fantasized about what was below the black edge of the picture, about getting her wife off, telling her she was a bad girl. Her orgasm was building and she shoved a finger and then another into herself, curling them up to touch her g spot, and she let out another moan.

It’s no fun without you here., Sharon replied quickly.

You know I would be there if I could., Alaska responded, typing quickly into her phone so she could get back to the picture. She could feel the heat in the pit of her stomach building, two fingers stretching her and hitting her g spot with every thrust, all it would take was one more thrust and she would be coming, in her office no less, and she would finally be able to focus for the day and-

And then she stopped.

If you’re a good girl for the rest of the day you won’t be punished. She sent with a quick tap on her phone screen. The rest of the day was going to be hell, and she wasn’t gonna make it without seeing her wife until she gets home.

Message from Cupcake

She opened the text seeing a picture of smiling Sharon, this time with clothes on.

“We won the case, sir.” Alaska announced proudly to her boss. She had just gotten back from the court after working on a case with a foster kid. After being stressed about this case for months she was relieved to have finished it off the way she did, putting her heart into it. Her fingers reached up to unclip her loose bun from her head as she walked into the breakroom, running them through her long blonde hair to make it go flat again.

The light blue couch where Alaska usually sat during her breaks was taken, so she settled into a gray armchair in the far corner of the room and pulled out her lunch. She let Sharon pack her lunches usually. Sometimes Alaska would end up with sweet notes or fruit cut into hearts. Sharon, Alaska thought. Sharon would be happy to hear about the case. Alaska would watch how her light grey eyes sparkled as she congratulated her and gave her kisses, her wavy hair bouncing with every movement.

“Alaska,” She whipped her head up to see Russell, her coworker. He was second chair in court today, working along with her on the case. “Boss just informed me you can leave early today. You don’t have another meeting until tomorrow.” He said, nodding at her. His eyes floated down to her white blouse and blazer where she had subtle cleavage showing, but the sudden movement of Alaska’s phone coming out of her pocket made his eyes drift back up to her face quickly before smiling and walking away. She saw how his eyes stopped on her breasts for a moment.

Alaska video called Sharon three times before she answered. “Hey, baby.”

“Sorry, I was cleaning up.”

“Yourself or the house? You look nice.” Sharon smiled at her comment and blushed. Alaska’s eyes crinkled at the corner and she moved her hand to the inside of her thigh, thinking about earlier.

“Momma’s bringing you home a present today… I won the case!”

“Really? Yay! I’ll make cookies for when you get home!”

“What do you want for a present, angel?” Alaska said, winking. “You’ll have to behave though… naughty girls don’t get presents.” She saw Sharon’s eyes glaze over at the statement almost immediately.

“It’s so hard for me to not be bad when you take so long to get home…” Sharon replied quickly, playing the game her and Alaska knew so well. She was so, so hopelessly turned on just because of one comment. The blonde saw Sharon’s arm make her way down to her legs.

This was aggravating; Sharon knew she couldn’t talk like that at work, yet she still wanted to break the rules her and Alaska had set in place. She knew what she was doing, toying with Alaska like that. “Baby, don’t. You’re such a pretty little girl. I would hate to have to punish you for denying one simple rule.” Alaska pulled her own hand away from her thigh and rested it on her chin, placing her elbow on the arm of the chair. She lightly grazed her fingertips on her high cheekbones putting her pinky slightly into her mouth and Sharon whined. Alaska’s eyes narrowed and Sharon pulled her hand back up to her face.

She knew Sharon was probably so wet by now. It was probably dripping down her thighs, soaking her panties. She would have to throw those panties away.

Maybe Alaska would bring her home some new ones. Shove the other ones in her pretty baby’s mouth to get her to shut up.

Alaska was at work. She shouldn’t be thinking these things.

“Sharon.”

“Yes?” Sharon’s eyes lit up at the mention of her name after the dead silence.

“What did you pick out for today?” Oh, code words, Sharon knew this one. She slowly pulled the strap down on her dress down to her waist for Alaska to see the bright red bra she was wearing. Her tits spilled out of it at the top, and Alaska bought it too small for a reason. Her cream colored skin was so nice to stare at. It was one of the previous presents from Alaska, one from a while ago, but she took great care of it because she knew the blonde loved it. Her petite C-cup breasts barely even needed the push up from the bra, but she appreciated it anyways. After a few seconds she pushed the straps of her dress back up. “So, what’d you do today?” Alaska asked her after deciding not to torture her wife any more than she already has.

Sharon would do anything for Alaska. She was wrapped around her finger. Right now Sharon was ready to unravel with just one word from Alaska’s mouth. She wanted to melt and mold herself to be whatever Alaska wanted.

“Invited Katya over and watched movies, but she left to go to Trixie’s. I miss you.”

“I miss you too baby. I can’t wait to come home and bring you presents. But you have to promise to be a good girl while I’m gone, angel, or else no presents anytime soon. You know the rules.”

“Yes, mommy.” Alaska shivered at the nickname, and twisted strands of her hair around her fingers, gently tugging. She could feel the heat at the pit of her stomach sending small shocks down in between her legs.

“Can you do the dishes sugar? And put on your nice clothes for mommy when she comes home. That dress is far too… conservative. You want to look extra pretty, kitten.” Sharon smiled wide, Alaska gazing softly at the round edges up to her face leading to her sharp jawline and prominent cheekbones. Her plump lips her a deep, alluring red, telling Alaska she was waiting for her all day. She wanted her to beg, wanted her to have to get on her knees before Alaska even touched her.

“Lasky-”

“Mommy.” Alaska cut her off. “Babydoll, you know not to call me that.” She saw Sharon’s eyes narrow. She was losing patience. She needed release. “Don’t be naughty, doll. It’s not my fault if you break the rules.” She said, nonchalantly, clicking her fingernails together. Sharon had to be wet by now, dying for Alaska to come home and fuck her.

Russell walked back into the room with his laptop and seemingly more paperwork. “Alaska, do you have a daughter? You seem like such a good mother!” He said enthusiastically, a poor attempt at trying to flirt with her.

“Got to go, babydoll, be a good girl before Mommy gets home and I’ll bring you something.” She smiled, and Sharon smiled back, before ending the call.

Alaska stood up, putting her lunch back into the fridge to eat later, and directed her attention to Russell, who was trying extremely hard to drag his attention away from her ass.

“No, that was my wife. She’s waiting for me at home.” She smiled a grin, watching Russell’s mouth gape open.

“O-oh. Sorry. Have a good day, miss Needles.”

“Mrs. Needles, thank you.” She closed the door to the workroom with a bang. What a prick.

She headed out to her car, a nice red convertible she’d had for a couple years. There were bags in the back full of clothes and some papers she had yet to drop off.

She headed out of the parking lot of the huge brick law firm and onto the highway it was conveniently placed on, and pulled into a new little bakery that she hadn’t seen before. Apparently they specialized in cupcakes, had been on some show or whatever. The door rang as she walked in, still so turned on she could barely focus. The woman behind the register had dyed grey hair and pretty blue eyes. She smiled at Alaska when she came in, but seemed timid. Fragile, almost. She moved gracefully, too, and Alaska appreciated the gentleness of her actions.

“I’ve never been here before, I want to get something for my wife. What do you recommend?”

“Um, well, personally I like the red velvet. It’s really good. But if you’re not into that the vanilla is also amazing.” She smiled, pointing down into the glass case to point out what ones she was talking about.

“I’ll take both, thanks.” Alaska smiled at the woman and got her wallet out of her purse, pulling out ten dollars in cash. “Keep the change.” She said, walking out the door and making the commute home.

Pulling into her house was like waking up on Christmas, exciting and alluring. Sharon was so close to her- probably sitting inside reading, or watching a movie, with a glass of red wine. She’d been waiting all day for this.

Sharon watched as the door open, waiting to see Alaska’s reaction to her in the finest lingerie, a black and nude corset, black thigh highs, a thong, and garters with just a sheer robe covering her. Her thin waist and thick thighs were accentuated in the lingerie she had chosen, with her boobs practically fully on display, spilling out of the cups on the top. Alaska finally saw her and sucked in a breath, not being able to stop her hips from rolling at the sight. She’s been waiting for this all day, all fucking day, she needed her and she needed her now.

“I brought cupcakes.” Alaska said sweetly, regaining her composure.

“I was good, mommy! I promise.” Sharon said back. She smiled proudly and wiggled a little bit.

‘Good job, cupcake! I’m proud of you. Come here.” She grabbed the box with the cupcakes in them and set them on the table, watching Sharon slink her way over from where she was standing on the couch. Her hips swayed seductively, catching Alaska’s attention. Once she got close enough, Alaska twirled a finger around a lock of Sharon’s hair and tugged, making Sharon moan. “Sit down.”

“I missed you today.” Alaska said, unboxing the red velvet cupcake and placing it on a plate, and grabbing two forks. Sharon was sitting at the small dining table with her legs crossed and her fingers twirling two strands of her hair together.

“I missed you too! A lot. I made cookies, they’re in the fridge.”

“I’m more in a cake mood right now princess,” Alaska replied softly, setting the plate down onto the table in between them. Alaska picked up the fork and took a bite off the cupcake with it, holding the fork out to Sharon. Sharon stared at the fork for a second before leaving in and eating the bite off of it, pressing her lips over the fork tightly and slowly leaning back, releasing the fork from her mouth. Alaska took off her jacket and unbuttoned her shirt. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Sharon knew that. Alaska fed her another bite before standing up.

She quickly unbuttoned her pants again, pulling them down her thighs and eventually onto the floor, with her ass in Sharon’s face. “Don’t touch, kitten. You don’t want to get in trouble now.” Her wife whimpered and crossed her legs tighter, staring at the visible space between Alaska’s tits, watching how the fabric of her unbuttoned shirt grazed over her nipples. She was in nothing but the shirt and a lacy white thong now, and Sharon could see the discoloration in the panties where Alaska was so obviously turned on. Her stomach twisted as shots of heat spread down to her thighs. Alaska sat down on the table, carefully making sure that none of her breasts were visible as she fed Sharon another bite of the cake. Sharon shuddered with every movement.

“Lasky,” She said, closing her eyes. She was shaking, she needed to be touched, right now. Alaska looked her straight into her eyes and stood up.

“Take it all off. I want you naked and I want you in the bedroom. Now.” Sharon made a beeline to the bedroom, leaving Alaska to whatever she was doing.

After a few torturous minutes Alaska walked in the room. Sharon was on the bed, sitting with her calves tucked under her ass, the skin on her hips pushed out. Alaska almost moaned at the sight of it. “God,” Alaska said before coming up to Sharon and kissing her passionately, letting her tug off the shirt she had on and then putting her knees on either side of her hips. Sharon was biting at her lips every so often, and every time she did Alaska moaned. Alaska’s fingers made their way across Sharon’s waist, up and over her tits, squeezing for a brief second. Sharon stopped kissing Alaska to let out a loud moan.

“Sharon, baby,” Alaska said between breaths. “Get up, stand over there.” Alaska pointed at the area in the front of the bed. Sharon quickly got up and followed orders. The blonde followed, sitting at the edge of the bed in front of Sharon. She let Sharon’s eyes wander down her body for a few seconds before giving another order. “Give me your hands, doll.” Sharon gently placed her hands on top of Alaska’s when Alaska pulls a small piece of rope out from behind her, tying her wrists together in front of her.

“You shouldn’t have sent me that picture at work today. I’ve changed my mind about forgiving you.” Alaska said in a pitying voice, lacing her fingers through locks of Sharon’s hair, before tugging so hard Sharon yelps. “Spread your legs, put your arms out in front of you, use the bed to hold yourself up.” With that order, Alaska stood up and got behind Sharon while she used the bed for leverage. Her fingers traced the cream colored skin of Sharon’s ass, watching how pale it got the harder she pressed into it. She noticed the wetness that had gone from Sharon’s pussy to the insides of her thighs. She let her hand go in one more circle over her before lifting it up and bringing it down hard onto Sharon’s ass, leaving a red mark as Sharon jumped. She spanked her three more times before Sharon spoke up.

“Please, Alaska,” She whispered, panting.

“What was that?”

“Please.” She whimpered, trying to stay standing. Her legs had practically almost turned to jello, leaving her wobbling.

“Ok. Fine. Stand up.” Alaska said, sounding bored. Sharon stood up and walked over to Alaska, her eyes following the blonde’s curves all the way down to her ass until she felt the rope from her wrists being untied. Alaska let her go and walked over to the bed, laying down and spreading her legs. Sharon got the memo almost immediately, pulling herself onto the bed and settling her face between Alaska’s legs, kissing the inside of her thighs. Alaska gasped once Sharon finally came in contact of her clit, rubbing her tongue over it, fingers still playing lightly with the area around her folds before pushing one finger in slowly. Alaska pushed her hips up, moaning loudly. She pulled her hand away from the headboard and grabbed a handful of Sharon’s hair, tugging and pushing her head deeper into her. Alaska was a panting mess now. Sharon put another finger in, curling them upwards, feeling Alaska contract around her, becoming completely undone.

Sharon started kissing her thighs, still thrusting into Alaska. Alaska’s moans couldn’t be contained anymore and she was sure the neighbors could hear her. “Sharon, baby, I’m gonna come, please,” Alaska moaned one more time before finally convulsing around Sharon’s fingers as she fucked her through her orgasm. Alaska’s hands had never left her hair, still pulling and tugging at the wavy strands while climaxing. Soon enough Sharon felt Alaska slow down and her hands left her hair. She gave Alaska’s thighs one last kiss before leaning up and kissing her on the lips. Alaska brought her hands up to Sharon’s neck gently and put her knees in the dips of her waist, Sharon’s fingers grazing along her outer thighs.

Alaska pulled away after about a minute of just kissing and sat up with her legs dangling off the bed. Sharon followed, trailing behind her and slowly moving her hair across her back to kiss her neck. Alaska turned around, kissing her on the mouth again, leaning her back and pushing her onto the bed.

“Wait here, don’t move unless you want me to punish you, doll.” Alaska whispered into Sharon’s ear, Sharon squirmed and elicited a moan from the other girl’s words as she walked out the door.

Alaska headed straight to the secret closet in the bathroom- a small safe that sat under the sink in the cabinet. It was built into the wall for discreteness. She unlocked it quickly using her birth date and grabbed the only thing that was in there- a pair of pink painted handcuffs. She walked back into the room and made a rattling sound with the handcuffs that made Sharon giggle. “Thought you said you weren’t going to punish me, Lasky?”

“This is hardly a punishment for either of us and you know that.” She retorted. Sharon giggled again letting a devious grin take over her previous smirk. “Here, baby, give me your hands, put them around- yeah,” Alaska said motioning to the bedpost behind Sharon’s head so she could put the handcuffs on, using the bedpost as a way to keep her from moving.

“You’ve been waiting all day for this, huh, doll,” Alaska said, walking around the bed and sitting down on the corner. Sharon stayed silent. “Answer me, brat!”

“Yes,”

“Do you want me to touch you?” Sharon felt her hips roll up as the heat in her stomach and face pooled down.

“Yes.” Sharon replied, exasperated. She loved when Alaska took control like this.

“Beg for me.” Alaska moved her hands down to Sharon’s legs, playing with her skin. Pinching, pulling, biting.

“Please, Alaska, I need you to touch me so bad,” Alaska looked uninterested, still playing with Sharon’s legs, running her hands up and down the sides.

“I’ve been waiting for you to come home all day so you could fuck me, please,” This got Alaska’s attention, finally letting herself move her hands to the insides of Sharon’s thighs and spreading her legs apart.

“Keep your thighs there.” Her fingers crawled up her wife’s body and into her parted lips. “Suck.”

Sharon immediately went to work, sucking and licking at Alaska’s fingers, lathering them. When she finally pulled them out of her mouth there was a tiny strand of saliva connecting the tip of her middle finger to Sharon’s thick lower lip. Alaska went to work quick, wrapping her mouth around Sharon’s nipples, licking and sucking at them as she rubbed her clit, going from fast to slow.

Sharon started shaking, sobbing as Alaska touched her. Her moans couldn’t be silenced even when Alaska covered her mouth, letting out one more moan before coming all over Alaska’s hand, soaking the sheets underneath her.

Alaska was the first one to leave the bed. She slipped on another pair of underwear and an old t-shirt from their previous vacation. She grabbed another t-shirt for Sharon and threw it at her wife, who was still chained to the bed post trying to catch her breath. Alaska walked over and lovingly undid the handcuffs, letting Sharon sit up, before grabbing the t-shirt off her lap.

“Hands up, love.” Sharon listened to Alaska, putting her hands in the air so she could slip the loose XXL t-shirt over her. “I love you so, so much. You know that, right?”

“I love you too, Alaska.” The blonde curled into Sharon’s arms and lied her head back on her shoulder to get Sharon to lean down onto the pillow, gently spooning her.

“Goodnight.”

“G’night, Lasky.”