#pretty sure I'm using the right number because you refuse to keep track of them

[monstermoviedean]

thank god it's clock out time i was about to fucking lose it

[binniesoob]

The Name Chapter: Freefall Concepts Analysis

let's analyze the concept pictures and trailers for the new upcoming TXT album! there are a lot of details hidden everywhere 👀

looks like my predictions were mostly right btw 🤭 if you haven't yet, i suggest you read them here before reading this post because they are strictly connected!

— REALITY VERSION

We didn't get an obvious autumn setting, but we did get colder rainy weather:

TXT just fell down to earth, to the harsh reality of things, they don't have nowhere to run away to anymore.

The vibes are very reminiscent of the Mess concept for Minisode 2, after all, TXT's feelings are the same: in Mess they just lost their first romantic love, their other/new Neverland.

Mess was also connected to the You version of Freeze, through props as well (the teddy bear, the flowers, the helmet, etc.), and Reality is now connected to You as well, because of the rain and umbrellas it looks like a darker sad version of it.

Just a quick recap...

1) YOU in Freeze = TXT found their first romantic love (aka Moa, very y/n fanfic of them ik ik) and invite them on a date.

2) MESS in Tuesday's Child = Moa doesn't show up to the date because it's actually tootiming all five of them 🤡 (see Lo$er=Lo♡er mv and Good Boy Gone Bad Japanese version mv). TXT are now about to go back to their childhood Neverland to mend their broken hearts and refuse the pain that comes with growing up.

3) REALITY in Freefall = TXT are heartbroken again, this time because they had to leave Neverland too and there's no way of escaping growing pains... 😔

(i swear i'm gonna complete the storyline summary with Minisode 2 by the end of the year 🧍‍♀️)

This version is also FILLED! TO! THE! BRIM! with hints through words and phrases written everywhere, on walls, signs, clothes...

If you zoom in the pictures you should be able to read them, i'm gonna list all those i found and collected and what i think they stand for:

• "step to earth" = TXT are back to earth/reality

• "tel: 03042019" and "fax 08222019" = the numbers contain the dates of TXT debut and moa day: TXT should talk their feelings out with eachother and connect with Moa again (are we going to see TXT coming in contact again with Moa in the music video? 👀 are we gonna get love songs again in this album?)

• “find my feet” = TXT need to let go of escapistic fantasies and come back down to earth. the meaning of this phrase also is "to start becoming comfortable in a new situation"

• “parachute” = it probably references something that represents a "saviour" for TXT during their harsh return to reality, it could be Moa and the Star 🤔

• “loadstar” = the STAR they need to light up again rembering their promise song and singing it together, also pretty sure the it's the title track name or part of it 😧 looks like they weren't fooling us in the end with the signs on the beach pic from Temptation-Farewell 🤡👍

• “dive” also written as "•Di♡E!•" in the black&white running-in-the-rain group pic = could be a track name, perhaps referencing Lo$er=Lo♡er 😮!!

• “rags rags rags” = could be the remains of TXT's inner selves after not having Neverland/Magic Island anymore 🤔

• "lost of found " = TXT lost themselves at Neverland and when they forgot their true names as children, but are now going to find themselves again once they remember them.

• " Running Instead of crying" = TXT shouldn't cry mourning Neverland (but focus on what's ahead of them instead and run towards it ?)

• "kicking tomorrow kicking" = they need to hold on, accept that tomorrow is coming, keep going and keep fighting

• "stand tall, walk tall, stand still" = they should be proud and confident of who they are but ? stay the same ? 🤔

• "one dream" = TXT's motto, they need to remember what they are really fighting for and what's truly their goal

• "in dreams begin responsibility" = if TXT dream to turn the world into a brighter place again, where people believe in their dreams, through awakening the Star, they have to take responsibility for it.

This should be all but if you notice i missed something feel free to point it out <3

Now let's focus on the store behind TXT in the group pictures! Credits to @/txtbook on twitter because i included what they wrote as well.

The shop is called LOADSTAR and it's in the building 304... remember the train also called 304 that previously showed TXT memories and predictions? The shop offers repairings for VCRs 👀

@/txtbook:

(at the shop) they repair the DVD that contains memories and we have the theme of memories & "remembering the name" in txt concept + since the building number is 304 it's great connection to their "start line" aka magic island but now in reality!

Loadstar is a guiding star used in navigation and MOA are always referenced as Stars + morse code was used for txt debut album TDC: STAR & questioning films words (true names?) — (me: yes, their true names👍)

The LoadSTAR shop that also sells music instruments & radio can fix their "melancholy DVD" & give back memories about their start line, dream & magic, music, song of a star 😭

And guess what Beomgyu holds in the CLARITY version? 👀 a video camera

but first let's analyze...

— MELANCHOLY VERSION

On a recent Weverse Live Soobin, Taehyun and Hueningkai opened up about their trainee days, in what conditions they rehearsed in the old basement of the old BigHit building (in 2014-16 -ish if i'm correct) here's a extract:

🐰 when we were in the basement practice room, there was a time when the ventilator wasn’t working…the ventilator was broken, the air conditioner was broken, there as water leaking onto the floor, there was mushroom growing on the floor 🐧 the mushrooms were really… 🐰 and since we’d have dance lessons in that situation for like 8-9 hours, the mirror was barely visible 🐧 because of the humidity 🐰 the mirror would get all fogged up because of the humidity making things barely visible 🐰 so we’d practice and… 🐿️ we used to wipe it down with newspaper 🐰 oh right! we’d all wipe it away with newspaper 🐰 and then we’d open the window for ventilation but leaving the window open in the middle of winter…opening the window when you’re already sweating makes you feel super cold 🐰 so we’d be shivering while trying to get some ventilation in the room 🐰 at that time, i kinda really hated the company, i hated our teachers… 🐰 but when else would we be able to experience something like that? 😅

source

This concept seems reminiscing of that. They were a group of boys working hard for their dream of debuting and making music, holding on despite the hard reality and injustices they had to face everyday.

This concept also features a wolf dog !

we already saw one in Frost mv

Yeonjun's real name is "promise" and the hint for it is "the one who shall not eat dogs"

5:53 is the hour between ‘dog and wolf’ from the French expression "l'heure entre chien et loup", it's the time when you can't distinguish a friend from a foe: it might reference how TXT will have to fight eachother and themselves in the rest of The Name Chapter

— CLARITY VERSION

This concept reminds of TXT abandoning Neverland in the The Name Chapter Concept Trailer. TXT used to travel to Neverland at Blue Hour (the sunset), but they don't go this time: when night comes they are still on earth.

honestly, the first thing that came to my mind when i saw these pictures was the last line from from Dante's Inferno: "E quindi uscimmo a riveder le stelle", translated "and thence we came forth to see the stars again". After all, Neverland has been hell for TXT, a nightmare dressed as a daydream, and now that they have a clear mind, freed from the temptations, they can see the reality of things again and the real stars, amongst which there's their Star!

If these pictures seem familiar there's a reason...

they are actually a replica of The Dream Chapter: Eternity, Starboard Version.

TXT are in the same exact order: in Can You See Me mv (title track of TDC: Eternity) we saw Beomgyu and Taehyun fighting, and on The Name Chapter Concept Trailer we saw that Beomgyu and Taehyun are the last ones to fight eachother. In addition everyone but Beomgyu is facing to the right: Beomgyu is the last one left after they fight eachother in the concept trailer.

Taehyun stands opposite to Beomgyu and is not holding hands with him = they fight, but let's remember as well what we said about him experiencing the fall back to reality differently from the other members in the Temptation analysis and Freefall predictions. That is further confirmed by the fact that in the solo pictures for this version everyone is out in the open, while Taehyun is the only one inside a window. The same as Taehyun's boat being the only one flipped around in the Farewell concept.

They also are on a rooftop 👀 like in 0x1lovesong Japanese Version mv, and on the mini posters for this version looks like they are either falling or on the ground after the fall 👇

... but it also could be something else, judging by the colors that remind of the Nightmare concept in Temptation... we'll see 👀

edit: forgot to add that Kai has odd eyes like a certain someone...

Kai is not the cat but has been the most tempted beside Yeonjun by the devil/peter pan/cat because he doesn't want to leave childhood most of all members. We saw him hesitant to leave Neverland at the end of Sugar Rush Ride, and we know his evil doppelgänger (see Frost mv) is going to fight Kai himself and the members (see TNC concept trailer) inside a labyrinth he built (see TNC concept trailer and Run Away mv when Kai draws blue and yellow - like the cat eyes - intertwined circles around the school), he probably was tempted to take over by the devil/cat, that's why the odd eyes.

Also didn't notice that the glass dome that we had in TDC: Eternity, Starboard Version pictures has been shattered by TXT literally - there are glass pieces and metal bars on the ground at their feet in the Clarity pictures - and metaphorically!

TXT broke the barrier that locked them in eternal dream. (@/0X1ZEROBASEONE on twitter/X)

Remember how TXT were surrounded by glass pieces at the end of 0x1lovesong Japanese Version mv too? 👀 It's all coming together.

This is all i have for now! If i need to add more details i'm gonna either edit the post or use a reblog. Thank you for reading <3 see you in the next TXT LORE O'CLOCK 👋 :)

[weaponreskinsintf2]

have always seemed like a strange case to me

On one hand if you like how a weapon works but hate how it looks it's nice to have another option to choose from. But on the other hand, reskins usually look like they would function differently from their counterpart. And I've always thought it would be neat if cool looking weapons like the maul had more of an identity than "Its the Homewrecker but for rich people" So I took a large number of weapon reskins currently available in the game and gave them their own set of stats ranging from "Slightly modified sidegrade to the original" to "Completely new weapon idea that's not balanced at all but a ton of fun."

For this video at least I'm only going to be modifying weapons that are relatively cheap and easily obtainable so it can keep the pay 2 win to a minimum. Basically if its under a key in [backpack.tf](https://backpack.tf/) (tm) or it's directly craftable then its gonna be fair game. I'm also not going to be touching the Original, either of the pyroland weapons, or the Holy Mackerel since even though they're technically reskins, they have enough unique functions that make them notably different from their counterparts. All right lets go.

The Three-Rune blade is a really cool looking weapon that just doesn't do it for me. Like sure if you hit somebody with a sword in real life they're probably gonna bleed. But if you made a sword that's so poorly weighted that you're guaranteed to hit yourself if you miss your target then you'd probably be better off not even forging the sword in the first place and just hurling chunks of iron at people. So hear me out, we've already got Demoknight but we don't have Scoutknight. I've always thought it would be really cool if the Three-rune made scout functioned kinda like Demoknight. You have a lot more health, better damage and range, and a slight movement speed buff in exchange for scout taking his medieval roleplay very seriously and refusing to use any non-medieval weapons. Scoutknight would effectively be a sidegrade to Demoknight by trading off health and shield resistances for better movement and secondary utility. I'm actually surprised we don't have a second melee subclass in TF2 already with how much time went into Demoknight. And the Three-rune seems like the most obvious weapon change to make to make that a reality.

The Holy Mackerel is notably different enough from stock because the killfeed tracking hits function. However, the Unarmed Combat does basically the same thing as the Holy Mackerel so it does count as a reskin. The Unarmed Combat's basically a meme weapon so I'm not too concerned about making it competitively viable or anything, but I do wanna make it fulfill its role as a funny weapon by giving it funny stats. Since you're slapping people around, why not give it a knockback effect. The knockback wouldn't be much, but you'd be able to get kills with this pretty well just by juggling people around. It would be kinda annoying to fight against but the idea of slapping people off a cliff is funny to me, so I personally like the changes regardless of how effective they may be.

The Nostromo Napalmer is technically not a reskin from stock because if you have the entire item set equipped you do more damage against scouts who are wearing the entire alien set, but only like 5 people have ever gotten use out of that specific stat so I'm willing to make an exception. Most of the flamethrowers right now reward you for being as close to your target as possible. So I thought it would be interesting to make a flamethrower that's the opposite, where it has increased flame distance but reverse falloff so you have to keep your target at the maximum possible distance to get the most damage. The increased flame speed would also give the flames more range since their calculation is based on time in the air instead of distance, so essentially its not as much of an ambush tool as much as it is a spacing tool. I have no idea how good or bad this would end up being because its such an "out there" concept, but I think this would be more of a high skill ceiling flamethrower to add to the game, and it would also work well in the Nostromo due to how the original version works in Alien.

The Postal Pummeler has such a random design for an Axtinguisher reskin. Like sure, a mailbox as a melee is cool and all, but why make it a reskin to the Axtinguisher of all things. So if not an Axtinguisher reskin, what would a mailbox do? Mail has to travel to reach its destination and a lot of mail travels by air and yeah this is a pyro market gardener. There's not much explanation with this one, the only thing in note is that I added a deploy speed bonus to both negate the jetpack's long holster animation and to give you more time to hit targets with the detonator's smaller jumps. Other than that, I feel like pyro could use a market gardener and these are stats that would be a lot of fun in TF2. And it would make it doubly function by making the mailbox theme make more sense.

The Maul is another really cool looking weapon that ends up being boring because of its stats. Because of how futuristic this thing looks, I'd expect it to do something more high-tech than just being a building smasher. So what if we inverted the homewrecker's damage against enemy buildings to provide buffs to friendly buildings instead? What I'm thinking for the Maul is that you'd be able to whack friendly buildings to make them operate a little bit faster. That means sentries would fire faster, dispensers would regenrate ammo and heal faster, and teleporters would take a little bit less time to recharge. This is of course a significant buff to Engineers, so just to make it a bit harder to keep buildings overclocked, the firing speed penalty would probably be necessary. Pybro's currently a great niche that's limited to a single weapon type, and since teamwork based playstyles should be widely encouraged in a game called "Team Fortress 2", getting pyros more option to help out friendly engineers would be a super great addition.

The Bootlegger and the Wee Bootie's are 2 weapons that only exist because of their item sets. But even though the Wee Bootie's are consistent with its set, the Bootlegger doesn't really make sense in its context because its set doesn't really work well with any of the shields. So, what if we made it work with Stickyjumping? The new bootleg would effectively be a combination between the Manntreads and the Gunboats, but the Demoman instead of the Soldier. I don't think this really needs that much explanation since there are already similar weapons in the game that you can use as an example if you would wanna imagine how these would work, but having the bootlegger be demoman gunboats would both make a lot of sense and appease a lot of community members, so I think that's a good route to take with them.

So then what would the Scottish Handshake be since its part of the same set as the Bootlegger? Yeah, its the demoman market gardener, pretty much copy and pasted from soldier. There are way too many reasons why this makes sense and I'm not the first nor last to come up with this idea, but I will get it out there that I thought about this change years ago before it became popuralized, so yay for being a hipster I guess.Overall making this set focus more on stickyjumping would give demo the proper counterpart to soldier's airborne armament set, which I think the game could certainly use.

The Nessie's Nine Iron makes no sense because it completely ignores its source material. In the obscure indie game called "Golf", you don't use golf clubs as swords, even though it would probably make the sport much more entertaining to watch. Golf clubs are used to hit a ball to make it go flying into the air. So the Nessie's Nine Iron should be able to hit players to make them go flying in the air. Basically I'm changing this from an Eyelander that can collect heads to a knockback based sword that also has a sandman projectile built in. Demoknight option that has a launchable projectile would make for a very unique playstyle, since even though you're sacrificing a big chunk of your damage, the projectile range and ability to control what direction players are launched in would make this weapon pair incredibly well with hazard heavy maps. This one is definitely "out there" as far as the stats go and I'm not sure how effective it would even end up being, but it would be a lot of fun to use if nothing else.

The Fishcake is a heavy lunchbox that for whatever reason is way more obscure than it really deserves to be, like I'm pretty sure I had a thousand hours in TF2 before I even realized that this existed. So to aid weapons that have become victims of obscurity, we should give this poor fish a reason to be used. My thought with the fishcake is that instead of granting heavy max health to make further fights go better, it should instead grant him a passive health regeneration over the course of 30 seconds, which will also accomplish something similar. 100 health instantly and 8 health per second makes this heal a total of 340 hp, but it does give it back to you slowly meaning that you also have some passive regen during your next combat. I can see this being pretty strong depending on how we tweak the numbers, but I mean cmon, its an obscure reskin of an already bad item, it deserves to have a spot in the line light for at least a little bit.

Next up is the Apoco-fists which are way too cool looking to just be a reskin of the stock fists. The cosmetic gib on kill stat's a pretty good base for a lot of interesting weapon ideas but I think explosions are probably the most fun way to take that. My thought with this one is that everytime you hit someone, you create an explosion similar to how the caber works. However, instead of just getting the first hit being a super powerful explosion, you would create many explosions on every hit that would do about 30 damage or so and some knockback to both the heavy and whoever he's hitting. This would coincidentally also give the heavy the ability to punch walls to climb them, which probably wouldn't do a ton for ya, but vertical mobility on the heavy is always a welcome edition and I can definitely see this opening up a few new strategies at least.

The AWPer Hand is a scam. This is supposed to be the AWP but ported to TF2 so why in the world can't I 1-shot people by hitting them in the chest? Well, I guess that would cause balance issues so we'll just make it accurate in the next best way. I think the most interesting stat we can port over from the real AWP would be the double scoping mechanic that a lot of CSGO's rifles have. Of course, we would also have to port over the mechanic that scoping with it makes you slow as hell, but I feel like that would be a worthy trade off. This would make the AWP a better rifle for holding longer angles, but double zooming can also hurt you sometimes because it makes it take longer to unscope, so I don't think it would completely surpass the sniper rifle in terms of utility.

The Fortified Compound is another weapon that's a huge missed opportunity. Like you're telling me that Valve had a chance to add another sniper bow with different stats, but they chose to just make it a reskin? No no no no no, we're fixing this today. Since compound bows are known for how much power they can put behind arrows, I was trying think of ways to make this thing feel like a heavy hitter without directly increasing the damage. I think the best that I could come up with is making this a bow version of the Machina that takes a little bit longer to fully charge. After all, compound bow strings take a ton of force to draw and sniper's not the strongest guy out there, so it makes sense that the arrow would take longer to be pulled back all the way. The added projectile speed might be a little bit overkill but again I wanted to make the Compound feel like there's force some behind it. So let me know what you think of these stats in particular, I'm kinda curious to see how you'd think this would turn out.

The Sharp Dresser is another weapon that commits the biggest sends a reskin can. It looks way too cool for a reskin and it doesn't respect its source material at all. Then again, what do you even do in Assassin's Creed? I mean you like jump off rooftops to assassinate people? Yeah why not. The goal with this one was to emulate the Assassin's Creed falling assassination mechanic that may or may not even be a real thing. These stats might seem a little bit gimmicky but I wanted to make the stats for the Sharp Dresser something that would make it easier to trick stab but harder to chain stab. Would these stats actually be useful at all the on spy? I have no idea, but this weapon seems like it would be a lot of fun to use so I'll keep it.

The Wanga Prick is in the exact same position as the Fish Cake. It's a reskin of a bad weapon that doesn't really have any reason to exist in the first place. So I might as well do something more unique with it. I was going to make up something about how I thought of these stats based on traditional acupuncture or voodoo rituals or some other bs but I literally just saw the skull on the weapon and thought this would be funny. This one um, could be completely broken or completely useless depending on how much teamwork your team has. There's no big idea behind this I just saw the skull on the weapon and wanted to include the "Mark for death" mechanic somehow and figured "You know what, being able to apply it to groups of enemies would actually give spy a sort of supportive role." I mean it's not even that much more powerful than the Jarate since spy has to take huge risks to actually get a backstab, but it still might be a little bit ridiculous if you can use it correctly.

And finally we end our weapon reskin chain with the Quackenbirdt, which is something I thought about for a long while and decided that my sole inspiration for all of the changes was that the Quackenbirdt has a duck on it and ducks are pretty fast (kind of). Spy doesn't really have any mobility-based watches that he can directly control. I mean the closest thing to that would be like the dead ringer which only provides a three second speed boost each time you feign. My thought with the Quackenbirdt was to give spy an option that would allow him to be fast but as a trade-off would make him a bit more of a glass cannon than normal. I could definitely see these changes causing the Quackenbirdt to dominate the cloak watch slot, so I think we could definitely increase the HP penalty or decrease the speed penalty and get about the same result.

So those are all the weapon reskins that don't cost your left kidney to actually buy. Like I mentioned, I love most of the reskins that are currently in TF2 from a design perspective. It's just a shame that most of them never get used because they're more expensive versions of already mediocre weapons. If you have any feedback or ideas for the changes that I mentioned in this video, I would love to see them in the comments. I really do like reading through the critiques of my that people comment, even if I don't respond every single one. Oh and also, I do have ideas for the very expensive weapons, I just figured that most people would complain about them being Pay-2-win if I decided to change them (and also I didn't want to have to spend 100 dollars on the background footage.) So I decided not to touch them in this video. If you really do wanna see them, I would definitely be down for finishing the reskin list, just comment below and I'll kinda take a tally.

If you liked this video, make sure to Like it; if you hated this video, make sure to click Dislike twice so you really get the point across to me; and most importantly, have a good one.

[itsbenedict]

I just finished hosting a 15-person game of Mafia for some friends. One tradition we have for these games is that every death is accompanied by some themed narration, so for my game I opted to spice it up with some art on top. Had to draw it real quick since I didn't know for sure who was going to die next until it happened.

The game's theme was "JoJo's Bizarre Adventure", with the hidden subtheme that all the roles (stands) were named after They Might Be Giants (@tmbgareok) songs! A list of their powers, links to songs, and a recap of the game under the cut.

01) Mogis - 「Flo Wheeler」

02) TD260 - 「Working Undercover For The Man」

03) JGH27 - 「Good To Be Alive」

04) Raya - 「Stone Cold Coup D'Etat」

05) KK / Sahrimnir - 「Thinking Machine」

06) Spontaneous Combustion - 「The Statue Got Me High」

07) Leviwulf - 「Push Back The Hands」

08) DarkFalco - 「I Am Alone」

09) Deli064 - 「Doctor Worm」

10) Fedaykin - 「Letterbox」

11) Surge - 「I Am Alone」

12) Wikxen - 「Put Your Hand Inside The Puppet Head」

13) Minby - 「Where Your Eyes Don't Go」

14) Bel - 「(She Was A) Hotel Detective」

15) SnakeInABox - 「By The Time You Get This」

Bold roles were Jotunheim (Mafia), normal roles were Johnsburg (Town), and italicized roles were third parties. (Jotunheim is the realm of giants from Norse mythology! The mafia were, in fact, giants! And the town's job was to figure out who might be giants! And the two sides were Jo and Jo! JOKES!)

「Flo Wheeler」 was a town role with a power that was pretty dangerous to the user- if anyone happened to be watching or tracking when a kill took place at night, Mogis would look like they'd visited the target that night in addition to whoever actually did. It could potentially be used to catch a mafioso in a lie, but otherwise it was more of an obstacle for the town to overcome- a miller-type role.

♪ You can't do the time, therefore you didn't do the crime ♪

「Working Undercover For The Man」 was a third-party role working for the Speedwagon Foundation to perform a threat assessment. TD could win with the town, but could win and leave early if he could guess all the names or powers of every other stand in the game. He could scan a name every night, to help that along.

♪ Planning midnight raids / On our unsuspecting fans / While the roadies rig / The video surveillance van ♪

「Good To Be Alive」 was a spin on the usual town doctor role- normally, a doctor can target a player and prevent their death if they would die that night. But... JGH couldn't actually prevent deaths- just fake it. The dead would become ghosts, who couldn't vote and couldn't be killed but were still allowed to talk as if they were alive.

♪ Hello leg / such a shaky leg / Just barely more than decoration ♪

「Stone Cold Coup D'Etat」 was a third party with an unusual win condition. They had to recruit a certain number of people to a private side-chat- and then make sure all those people got killed. Plus, she could redirect anything that happened to her at night to her recruits. If the recruits figured out what she was doing and got rid of her, they'd get a boost to their power.

♪ The bark now commands the trees / The queen is overruled by the bees ♪

「Thinking Machine」 was a town role with a mysterious purpose that didn't seem to make much sense at first. Sah would get, every morning, a strange series of numbers and letters of uncertain origin. It was information, somehow, but how to use it?

♪ Tape has brightening arm connect (Wait, that didn't make sense.) / Self-paint lever itching does! (That made even less sense!) ♪

「The Statue Got Me High」 was a mafia power. As the song describes, the victim is enthralled by the monolith and forced to obey its commands, until their eventual death. That is, Spont could recruit a player to the mafia, but they'd die one night later- and if he wasn't careful, he could die and his recruit would flip back.

♪ And now it is your turn (your turn to hear the stone and then your turn to burn) / The stone, it calls to you (you can't refuse to do the things it tells you to) ♪

「Push Back The Hands」 was a passive ability that caused anything that would happen to Levi- a nightkill, an execution, some other power- to be delayed by one day, giving him some time to react. He'd be told who it was that targeted him, so going after him as mafia was risky.

♪ Screeching tires but never a collision / Endless day without a sunset provision ♪

「I Am Alone」 was a weird one. See, DarkFalco, who was mafia, didn't have a stand as such. She was the stand- and she was the stand of Surge, who was town. They were linked together in everything, meaning the mafia had to work to keep Surge alive on top of their own people. She could send messages to Surge at night to mess with him, though.

♪ Before you fire I should inform you / One of us is a double ♪

「Doctor Worm」 had no real special abilities. His ability was to be pretty good at playing the drums, a power that had absolutely no relevance in a game of Mafia.

♪ I'm not a real doctor, but I am a real worm I am an actual worm ♪

「Letterbox」 was a mafia ability that let Fedaykin pick another player, and offer that player a chance to deliver a private message to one other player of their choice. He could see the "secret" communications, though, and once per game he could edit the message before delivering it.

♪ I'll never know what you'll find when you open up your letter box tomorrow ♪

「Put Your Hand Inside The Puppet Head」 is a classically mafia ability, but in the hands of a town player: the ability to force another player to vote for another. Normally the manipulated person isn't allowed to say what happened, but there was no such restriction here- confusion's no good for the town.

♪ Memo to myself: do the dumb things i gotta do: Touch the puppet head ♪

「Where Your Eyes Don't Go」 let Minby pick someone else to watch him at night. If anyone visited him to target him with an ability, the person he designated would be told the names of those people. A nasty trap for the mafia, as long as Minby doesn't pick a mafioso to share the information with.

♪ Where your eyes don't go, a part of you is hovering / It's a nightmare that you'll never be discovering / You're free to come and go / Or talk like Kurtis Blow / But there's a pair of eyes in back of your head ♪

「(She Was A) Hotel Detective」 was a very powerful town role- Bel was the cop, and could scan another player's alignment at night, plus track or watch them. Except... not directly. She couldn't scan players- she could scan hotel rooms, and if other players didn't check into the hotel at night or give up their room numbers, her information was useless.

Here are the room numbers, in order: Levi (1) Snake (2) JGH (3) TD (4) Spont (5) Sah (6) Deli (7) Fed (8) Minby (9) Falco/Surge (10) Raya (11) Wikxen (12) Mogis (13).

(Oh, and Thinking Machine's codes were actually encoded versions of her results, and Sah would get a weaker version of her power if she ever died.)

♪ She's got her ear to the walls / And she's tappin' the calls / If you've got a secret, boy / Forget about it! ♪

「By The Time You Get This」 imbued its wielder with the incredible powers of... an estate lawyer! Which meant Snake could leave a will behind when he died, naming another player and casting a vote on them from beyond the grave the next day.

♪ By the time you get this note / We'll no longer be alive / But our skulls are smiling still / At the thought of things to come ♪

So! Here's how it all shook out.

Day 1: The first day is always kind of a tossup, since no one has any information yet, and everyone's just trying to verbally stir the pot. Levi soft-claims his role right out the gate, warning town not to try targeting him or else. Mogis is executed, casting a vote on himself to save the town the trouble of dealing with Flo Wheeler.

Night 1: Spont uses the statue to recruit Wikxen, at the same time that Wikxen forces Snake to vote for Levi. So, now the usually-scum power in the hands of town is in the hands of scum for real. Bel scans room 3, and learns that its occupant is innocent. Raya recruits DarkFalco, and accidentally recruits Surge alongside her, to her surprise. JGH tries protecting Levi, to test if his claim was a bluff.

Day 2: Levi tries to push JGH on the basis of having targeted him last night, but everyone agrees to wait and see if Levi actually dies first. Votes circle around Wikxen and Raya for suspicious-seeming defensiveness on Day 1, and ultimately, when it seems like Wikxen's about to be executed, a small group of players flip their votes at the last minute and vote Raya out while she's asleep and can't defend herself. Rude! She was poised to win the game for herself and the town, since she'd convinced Falco that the mafia would benefit somehow if they were all recruited.

Night 2: The mafia kills Minby- and Minby opts to tell have Fed watch him, wasting his power. Lucky for town, though, Bel happens to scan room 8, confirming Fed is mafia since he volunteered his room number. Wikxen's coat contains a furnace where there used to be a guy.

Day 3: Wikxen forced Snake to vote for J, making him look bad- but Sah begins sharing his bizarre results from Thinking Machine, and Bel confirms that they're a log of her detective power. Then she points out that Fed is mafia, and the town falls in line behind the accusation with Sah to confirm.

Night 3: Spont uses the statue to recruit Bel, to keep any more problematic scans from ruining them. Bel, before being recruited, scans room 10, though- and now the town knows there's something funky with Falco and Surge, because Sah gets the results and knows what they mean. Due to their mismatched alignments, though, the encoded version is still misleading, so there's wiggle room. TD scans Spont and learns his role name.

Day 4: Spont concocts a daring scheme. He has Bel lie and claim to have received an incriminating result on him- so that Bel will be caught in said lie when Sah produces his own results. The plan is to frame Bel, who's a dead girl walking anyway, and clear Spont's name going forward. But the town talks themselves into explaining away the contradiction- even when TD reveals Spont's stand name, and Spont denies it outright and claims 「Combustible Head」, a fake vigilante (town nightkiller) role instead, the town explains away that, too. After a few more people claim, TD260 has completed his mission- his correct guess wins him the game and he leaves. Spont cleverly excuses himself by claiming that TD lied about his role to get him to claim his "real" one. Afterwards, the town ends up executing Deli064 instead, for some reason- poor Doctor Worm!

Night 4: The evidence vanishes from Bel's charred and smoking chair- because JGH tries to protect her at the same time the mafia are killing him! Bel is a ghost now, and the town never finds out her alignment.

Day 5: Bel not dying poses a problem for the mafia, because Spont was supposed to prove his own innocence by pretending to kill her! The mafia tries to misdirect by having Bel lie again, claiming to scan room 10 when she actually scanned room 6, Sah. Ultimately, though, the town is able to coordinate behind killing Surge and Falco, which- because they're linked- is a compromise option that both parties are happy with (when perhaps they shouldn't be).

Night 5: Since Bel is technically dead, Spont recruits again, grabbing Sah and removing the threat of scans entirely. If he'd recruited Snake instead, they'd have won on the spot, since only his will-vote prevented them from winning instantly due to outnumbering the town. We move on to a somewhat redundant...

Day 6: It's now down to five players- Spont, Sah, and Bel vs Levi and Snake. The mafia technically outnumber the town, but Bel's vote doesn't count, and Sah's going to burn the next night- so the town can still win by forcing a tie and then using Snake's By The Time You Get This power to place a vote on Spont. But that's if they can figure it out and get on the same page, and... they don't. There's no way there could be three mafia still alive, so the mafia are able to sow total confusion and ultimately get the town all voting for Bel... who's a ghost, and can't vote or be executed, which the town doesn't know because JGH died before he could fully explain. The execution defaults to Snake, and the mafia win the game.

[emma-what-son]

(Echee post) Emma Watson has stalkers and a bodyguard

Posted on March 23 2014

From dailymail.co.uk March 2014, "Harry Potter star Emma Watson has hired a former NYPD officer as  a bodyguard to protect her from obsessed stalkers. The actress – thought to be worth £23  million – is believed to be paying the female officer £90,000 a year after a number of incidents of threatening behaviour towards her. The latest came as Emma, 23, right, was working on her new movie Noah, when an over-zealous ‘fan’ duped studio security staff and got on to the set. Emma, was left screaming, believing she was in danger, and filming had to stop. The British actress, who played Hermione Granger in the Potter films, is now constantly shadowed by blonde former New York Police Department officer Denise Morrone. A source said: ‘The  one person Emma is never without is Denise. 'Emma has had problems with stalkers in the past and, because of her wealth, there is always the threat of kidnap. 'She pays for her bodyguard out of her own pocket and Denise accompanies her everywhere, even when Emma is out for dinner. Denise is always there, making sure she is safe.’ Another source said: ‘Denise is on high alert for one particular stalker who tracked Emma down on the set of her latest film. ‘She is very discreet and very good at her job. She is always there looking after Emma, but you wouldn’t know. ‘She makes sure Emma has plenty of space and freedom. If they are at dinner, Denise is part of the gathering, but is always on duty.’ The new arrangement marks a departure for Emma, who has seemed determined to try to live a low-key, normal private life unencumbered by a security detail. Post-Potter she went to Brown University in Rhode Island, New England, and Worcester College, Oxford, to study for a degree. When she has appeared in public she has had no visible entourage. A spokesman for Miss Watson, who has homes in  London and New York, declined to comment." ^That's what the dailymail says but here below is what Emma said at the time.

From fansshare.com October 2012, "There was a lot of fuss made recently about the fact that a man who has been stalking Emma Watson managed to get onto her set before being chased off into the woods. It was claimed that Emma was terrified by the incident and feared for her safety.  However, it appears that the claims were not true, as Emma has spoken out about the “incident” stating that nothing of the sort happened. Emma felt that she needed to let everybody know what’s what and hoped to clear up any confusion about the stalker situation. Watson took to her official Twitter account to say, “Ok. Few things to clear up. I was not terrified by a stalker in the woods. And he was not fought off by martial arts experts.#whowrotethisstory”. I don't get this DM article because Emma has had this bodyguard for ten years. I think this might be a great big dose of media sensationalism or maybe a planted story so everyone will go, "Aww poor Emma" because she has said some really dumb things lately. I've seen photos of Denise (the older blonde lady we always see her with) with Emma as far back as 2005 Here they are outside the Regis and Kelly show (USA) in 2005 and to the right currently in 2014

^She still looks 15 doesn't she? I've seen one or two candids of Denise with Emma at Brown. I've read an article from a Brown website (thank anonymous for tipping me off) where they were talking about her bodyguards on campus that followed her around. Here's Emma, some guy and Denise at Brown in the fall of 2010 (I can't find the others)

Here she is talking about stalkers in her GQ interview from last year From gq-magazine.co.uk May 2013, "Did you have stalkers? 'Yes. I do have people who show up from time to time in different parts of the world. I've never really known how to respond; I've never really known if I should be afraid or not. This is how I put it into perspective: thousands of women all over the world have to deal with feeling afraid when they walk home from the Tube, on their way to work, when they go out for a drink. Feeling not safe isn't something that is singular to me or my experience as a woman, and I don't think any of these people mean me any harm. They just tend to be people caught up, who don't really realise what they are doing, and I think it is very important that I don't allow it to isolate me further, to be another reason why I shouldn't go out and meet people or walk down the street. Weird guys sometimes take it too far, and that is it. I just keep a friend with me. I don't have a full-time security guard or anything like that. Even at university I went everywhere completely alone, which looking back was probably a pretty ambitious thing that I tried to do there, but somehow I got away with it. There were times when I did feel stressed and anxious and could probably have done with a bit more support. At the same time I would rather make my own mistakes and learn what I need. I think it is so easy when you get famous to just disengage from having a life and that can make some things really dangerous.'" Remember she told rookie magazine she used to lie about walking to places but had a car waiting for her? She was trying to make it seem she has this normal life. I reckon this could be another little white lie about not having a full-time guard because we've seen Denise with her for years. She's the woman that pushes people away and pulls her from signing autographs and even refuses people. How about other instances like Glastonbury where that big muscular man tailed her everywhere. At airports when Denise is not there she has men which looks to be bodyguards to me. When she went to the Box Night Club she had a bodyguard. They're rare shots because most candids are just of Emma and Denise or Emma and a friend or boyfriend. You really think Emma travels alone? For example

Last photo from 2011: Check this out and seethe altercation You rarely catch her bodyguards photographed other than Denise who looks more than just a bodyguard. I think she's more like a bodyguard/assistant. I bet they are always around but you wouldn't know it. I'd go as far as saying they probably follow her from a distance to make it seem like she's really by herself. Here's something she said in 2009 and it was really stupid From wonderwall.msn.com July 2009 (interview with Dan, Rupert and Emma. she started brown in Sept 09) In this film, Ron has sort of a stalker girlfriend. Has it ever gotten strange where you're dating people who are more interested in dating Harry, Ron or Hermione rather than yourselves? Emma Watson: "I'm dating my stalker, actually." It's dumb to even give a stalker the time or day in a magazine discussing them. It will probably embolden them by fueling whatever twisted fantasies they have in their head. If it were me I would not even mention it. In 2010 she said this From digitalspy.com November 2010, "Emma Watson has revealed that she and her Harry Potter co-stars Daniel Radcliffe and Rupert Grint used to hide from their security guards. The actress admitted that she "hates" having bodyguards and prefers to deal with the attention she receives on her own. Watson explained: "I hate having bodyguards and when we were younger, Dan, Rupert and I used to try to hide from the people trying to keep an eye on us." The 20-year-old went on to say that she now feels comfortable traveling on public transport by herself. She added: "Now it's like, 'Really, I'm fine'. I take the train and the bus and, if I don't dress up too much, I'm usually fine. Occasionally people stop me but I'd rather deal with that than not go out at all. That'd be really tragic." In her most recent interview for Elle she said this From snitchseeker.com March 2014, “So while Radcliffe reportedly rarely leaves his house without a bodyguard, Watson memorably began her college career by moving into the freshman dorm-the very definition of exposed. She lopped off her hair, appeared in a student production of Chekhov. There were moment, she says, when she thought, “I don’t know if I can do this. Or if this is sensible anymore.” But she held firm, turning down high-profile work that would interfere with her studies. “I just don’t want a life where I can’t have a life, “she says. “And so I’ve been just unbelievably stubborn about it.” ^Peculiar and then this article comes out about her hired bodyguard. Could it have been Radcliffe's people saying, "Hey, wait a minute" and then ratted Emma out? That last quote, the newer one, is of course a total contradiction from what she said about Brown before. I don't know it's that's the truth or this is some rouse to plant the idea she was heckled out of college life. I don't know but one thing is for sure I don't believe most of what comes out of this girls mouth. I'm like those towns people that had it with the games of the little boy that cried wolf. As for the stalking it's the only thing I'll give her sympathy for. I think it would suck. If it's an over zealous stan or a weirdo I don't think it's cool. If you like or even dislike her there are still lines you should never cross and that includes invading her space. She's just one fake ass actress that lives in her own head that plays make believe and makes millions off it. Then of course she complains about it and manipulates the media and her fan base to cover up "the real Emma Watson". She's a prettily weaved illusion designed to trick you. There is no such thing as the perfect person and just because she is pretty it does not make her perfect girlfriend material. Stans and weirdos please understand this.

[existing-on-cloral]

Brooklyn's Night Terrors

A Steve Rogers X Reader Fanfiction

The pretty scientist working to eradicate a vigilante villain catches the eye of the former Captain America. He jumps back into the time machine, becoming young again in order to live out a new life with his best friends, and perhaps her.

Paradise has a price, however.

The tracked vigilante kidnaps Sam Wilson and leaves the shield for Steve to take up one last time. Reluctantly, Steve takes on the mantle of Captain America once more as he teams up with his old pal Bucky Barnes and the beautiful and deadly smart scientist.

"Lust can cloud the mind, but love makes it clear as day."

Chapter Three: Hero's Duty

Steve takes up the shield again. His scientist isn't impressed. Nevertheless, he instructs her to pick up his backup soldier.

The room he had been escorted to was tiny, with only a couch and a coffee table. Steve assumed it was some sort of break room for employees. He definitely needed a break after hearing the news on Sam.

"Mr. Rogers?"

Steve jumped, spinning around to see you standing in the door way. "Oh, hello," he said. "What can I do for you?"

You held out the package you had been carrying. "Agent Carter asked me to bring these to you." Your eyes shone in the lights of the room, giving off an almost magical feel to them. When Steve stepped closer, however, he saw that your eyes were brimming over with tears.

"What's the matter?" he asked, digging around in his pocket for a handkerchief.

At this, you dropped the package and burst into tears, hiding your face in your hands. Steve stopped his search immediately and tilted your chin up. "Don't hide your face," he whispered. "Tell me what's wrong."

You sniffed, dropping your hands to your sides. "It's just... Sam and I went out for coffee and we stayed out all afternoon. When we were... when we decided to leave, Sam... Sam offered to take me back to the compound." You looked Steve dead in the eye, stepping closer to him. "Then she appeared."

Steve tugged you over to the couch and sat, pulling you next to him. He put his arm around your shoulders and, finally finding his handkerchief, wiped away your tears. "Who appeared?"

"The Blue Reaper," you choked out, clutching at Steve's hand like it was a lifeline. "She was after me, I know it. She shot at me but Sam took the dart instead." You sobbed into the handkerchief. "Typical. The first guy Sharon sets me up with that I actually might like, and he gets kidnapped."

Steve's heart dropped into his stomach. "Oh, I'm so sorry," he managed, even though his throat was constricting and he feared that he may never be able to show his face to Sam again. You liked Sam.

You liked Sam.

Still, Sam was his best friend, and he couldn't just let him stay kidnapped for the purpose of keeping you close. "I promise," he started, then remembered how easily he had broken a promise to a woman before. But he couldn't turn back now. "I promise that I will do my best to get Sam back."

You threw your arms around him and your cries quieted. "I believe you," you whispered.

Steve relaxed, stroking your hair. "Oh, I almost forgot. What's in the package?"

You laughed. Steve loved your laugh. "Open it," you said, retrieving it from the floor and handing it to him.

"It's not gonna jump at me or anything, right?" he joked, taking it and tearing off the brown paper. He pulled open the flaps of the box and froze. Inside was his old uniform, not the one from the 40s, but the one he'd been wearing when he went into the past.

"If you're gonna wield the shield again, you need a proper suit." You patted the box's side, smiling down at it fondly. "You probably don't remember this, but before S.H.I.E.D. collapsed, Tony asked me to help him design some upgrades for the team. I added the magnets to your suit, as well as Natasha's."

Steve pulled the suit out of the box. "Well, if I'm gonna find Sam, I gotta get to it. New York is a big place." A thought began to form. "Maybe I'll need some help."

You crossed your arms, staring him down. "I appreciate your promise... and your bravery and loyalty towards your friends... but don't you think you deserve a break? Give Bucky the shield, and he can work on the red in his ledger."

He gave you a look. "Sam's my friend, and I chose him to take the shield. If I have to use it to get him back, I'm perfectly fine with taking it up one last time." You still weren't convinced. "Besides, Bucky's done so much for me. It would be wrong to ask him to fight again when he's just gotten an opportunity for a break."

"So then, who's your backup?" You fingered the fabric of the suit, refusing to meet his eye.

"Well, I was hoping you'd come with to look for clues, DNA samples and the like." Your head snapped up and you stared at him, eyes wide. "It'll be okay. I'll protect you."

You shook your head. "It's a good idea, and I'd be happy to, but I meant, like, people with super stuff who can actually fight." You stared down at yourself, wishing you were a little stronger so you could at least use a gun or something.

"Don't worry." Steve gave you a smile. Not a Captain America smile, a Steve smile. Your heart warmed immediately. Steve patted you on the shoulder. "I'll give you an address, you go pick him up. Can you do that for me?"

Could you do that for Steve? Um, yes you could.

"Any way I can help," you promised. "Just know, I'm worried. You deserve a lifetime of rest since you spent a lifetime fighting for the world."

Steve sighed and stood, fingers moving to the buttons on his shirt. "I know. I also know my friend's in danger." He undid the top button and slowly worked his way down.

"What... What are you doing?" you blurted. Steve turned, realizing what he was doing.

"I was going to put the suit back on," he said, shirt hanging open, revealing more of his chest than you ever thought you'd see. Captain America indeed...

"Oh." You turned your head away. "I'll just... I'll just go." You stood, scrambling for the door.

"Wait," Steve said. He tore off some of the brown paper and pulled a pen out of his shirt pocket. (So he was one of those men.) "Here." He scribbled an address on the sheet and handed it to you. "Go pick him up, and call me when you've got him and he's safe."

You took the sheet, but your brow furrowed. "I don't have your phone number."

Steve nodded to the paper. You looked it over, and noted that he'd scribbled his number at the bottom. "Thank you."

Before he could actually take his shirt off, you left, slamming the door behind you. Everything that had just happened hit as you hurried to pick up one of the company cars. Steve had a. Partially undressed in front of you and b. Given you his phone number. You shook the feeling of excitement off, reminding yourself that it wasn't fair to Sam.

Find the backup, call Steve in a business-like manner, and save Sam. Easy enough.

You drove into the heart of New York City, passing through different neighborhoods as your GPS beeped out directions. It began to turn you further and further into strange neighborhoods, ones for people that had been displaced by "The Blip" as the news was calling it. You stopped outside of an apartment building and headed in, making sure to double lock the car. Paranoia was a part of being an agent and a scientist, but locking the car until it beeped was, to you, common sense.

The building had no security, no front desk, just a list of people that lived there. You found the name you were looking for and headed to the second floor. The actual apartment took a little longer to find, but you had experiences with apartment buildings, having lived in one yourself after college. Finally, you were knocking on the door of what you hoped was the correct apartment.

A woman opened the door, propping it open with her hip as she leaned against it. "Can I help you?" she asked.

You pulled out your badge from S.P.E.C.I.A.L. and introduced yourself. "I'm looking for your nephew."

She sighed, pushing her hair out of her eyes. Her face twisted in concentration, but she finally turned back and called out, "Peter? There's someone here to see you."

Behind the living room, a door opened and a young man stepped out. He carefully closed the door behind him, but not before you saw the legendary Spider-Man suit laying on his bed. He came over to the door, clearly in no hurry. "Hi," he said, voice timid. "I'm Peter."

You extended your hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Peter." You said your name in return, and he shook your hand.

"Are you going to arrest me?" he asked. For a second, you thought he was joking, but then you saw the fear in your eyes. He reminded you of yourself when you were his age. Scared to leave your house for fear of failing.

"No, Peter, I'm here to help." You held out your badge once again. "A friend of mine is in trouble, and... Well, let's just say Captain America wanted some backup."

Peter's eyes widened. "Can I go?" he asked his aunt, tone changing from scared to excited, just like that.

She sighed, ruffled her nephew's hair, and said, "Go get your suit. And be careful."

He ran to his room, throwing the door open and stuffing his suit into a backpack. Within seconds, he was back at the door. "I'm ready."

You thanked his aunt and led Peter to the car, opening the shotgun door for him. Once you got in the car, you locked the doors and started the engine. "I'm sorry for what happened in London," you said. "For what it's worth, I don't think you're a bad guy."

"That means a lot," Peter said, reaching for his seat belt. "I really appreciate it."

Then you remembered your promise to Steve and picked up your phone, inputting his phone number quickly and then hitting the call button. Realizing you didn't want to kill Peter because you weren't paying attention to the road, you put the phone on speaker. He picked up just as you were pulling out of your parking spot. "Hey, Steve," you greeted him.

Steve immediately asked, "Did you get him?"

"That's Steve Rogers!" Peter interrupted. "I thought he was old and that Mr. Wilson was the new-"

You cut Peter off quickly. "Yeah, I got him. He's excited to be back in the game." Glancing at Peter, you watching him bounce in his seat, clearly eager to talk to Steve again.

Steve laughed. "I can tell. Get him back to the compound and we'll get started searching." His tone warmed. "Be careful."

"I will," you promised. "Bye, Steve." He told you goodbye, and Peter hit the end call button for you.

"So he's back? Is he Captain America again?" Peter fired off questions one after the other, not giving you any time to answer. "Are you guys dating?" He stopped. "Sorry, that was probably really personal. It's just nice to be trusted for once."

You smiled. Peter was the most enthusiastic superhero you'd ever encountered. And he was nice, too. "Um, he's back to normal, but he's just Cap for a while, until we get Sam back. Sam's been kidnapped," you added, the fact that you hadn't even told Peter what was going on hitting you. "And, um, no, Steve and I are not dating."

Peter giggled. "Okay," he sang, turning to the radio. "Can I play some music?"

"Have at it," you said. Peter immediately pressed the on button. A beautiful melody played through the speakers.

"I want some rock," he muttered, messing with the tuning dial. "Where-" he stopped on a news station that was releasing the "newest information on the whereabouts of Mr. Peter Parker, accused of being the murderous vigilante Spider-Man". Immediately, he shut off the radio and slumped back in his seat. "They get closer every day," he mumbled.

Your heart swelled with sympathy for the young man. He had been through so much already and he wasn't even (technically) eighteen.

"Well, we'll just have to move you for a little while, then," you said, turning your head to smile at Peter. He smiled back, but then his eyes widened and his shorter hairs actually stuck up.

"Watch out!" he called, pointing to the road. You turned and almost screamed. Standing in the middle of the road was a soldier with a mask on, but his bleach-blond gave him away. Even worse was the symbol painted on the leather harness crossing his chest. It was a skull surrounded by snake heads.

"Hydra," you choked, just before Quicksilver shot out your tires and you skidded to a stop. Quickly, you pulled out your phone and, slamming on the gas even though that would screw over the wheels even more, you called Steve.

"Steve!" you screamed when he picked up. "Steve, I'm pulling out of Queens, a soldier just shot out my tires but I have to keep driving."

You could hear the clink of the shield as he ran. "I'm on my way! Tracking your car. Who was the soldier, do you know?" Smoke began to leak out of your engine and you coughed, doing your best not to inhale it, but Steve needed to know.

"Our fears have been confirmed," you panted, gesturing for Peter to put on his mask and get ready to fight if need be. "The Blue Reaper figured out the time machine and-" you broke down into coughs as your body fought the smoke filling the cabin, "-she's wasting no time. She brought back Quicksilver. Even worse, I was right."

"What do you mean?"

Taking a second to steady the car, even though it was about to crash, you finally got out. "The Blue Reaper works for Hydra."

In the split second before the car hit the building up ahead, Peter grabbed your waist, punched through the car ceiling, and swung you up to the top of the nearest safe building.

Down below you, the car burst into flames, but Quicksilver hadn't noticed Peter's rapid ascent. He ran up to the car, stopping before the flames could touch him. After a moment, long enough for you to open the sound magnification tech on your phone, he turned and said, "Targets are both dead. I'll go after Rogers next."

Your heart stopped.

Steve.

With trembling fingers, you send the audio to both Steve and Director Fury.

"What are we going to do?" Peter asked, fear apparent in his eyes even behind the mask.

You squinted into the street, watching Quicksilver disappear at top speeds. Though you had never had the personal pleasure of meeting the Sokovian speedster, you did know his sister, and you were one of the only people unafraid to approach her after his death.

"Call Wanda. We need to get through to him and sway him to our side if possible. And we need to stop the Blue Reaper from bringing... back... anyone else..."

With these brave words, the smoke you'd inhaled overtook your adrenaline and you passed out.

[whumpiary]

I'm not sure were the bergan estate timeline was? like what happened there? I don't understand how cass came to be there or what he was doing and his propose there? I'm just a dumbass child so can u explain a bit??

Oh no no! You are not a dumbass child! I’m just a horrible little goblin man who drip feeds her readers story points and hoards the rest instead of just writing them out like a normal writer! It makes sense that you’re confused.

My writing is just… A Mess. The timeline post is just to give y'all SOME kind of hope of understanding everything that’s all mixed in my brain because there is SO much and I have No idea how to write it.

All the stuff that happens during the Bergen Estate timeline is set before the Facility, and before Cass meets Josiah (or Lou or Tucker, etc etc). It’s Cassius backstory that I got way too invested in.

It’s also like… Kind of dependent on world building stuff that is still kind of gelatinous in my brain but I’ve started sharing more of it the more solid I get on it all. I struggle to write actual world-building and #lore into my drabbles and tbh since deciding a lot of the Bergen Estate details I’ve been in a Huge publishing rut

BUT IM ALWAYS A SLUT FOR AN INFO DUMP SO STRAP THE FUck IN

Bergen Estate is owned by Christopher Bergen, a billionaire mogul who’s best known for his extensive philanthropy and charity work, and Cassius’ first major whumper. It’s essentially just a big ass fucking mansion on a huge slap of land where Christopher lives. The estate is extensively staffed, and also houses a number of at-risk young people who are a part of Christopher’s charity outreach and rehabilitation program. 

The outreach of the program is massive. Christopher only houses 38 charges at Bergen Estate, but there are thousands of people throughout the country in one of his group homes and boarding schools.

The young people who go through the program are colloquially known as Bergen Boys, although that’s a term the foundation itself tries to formally keep distance from (privately,,,,,, Christopher quite likes the term). The program has the reputation of boy scouts meets finishing school, and, formally, it’s not unlike that. It’s a really thorough rehabilitation program that really genuinely facilitates juvenile delinquents, hard to home foster kids, and other at risk youths and then offers them counselling, education, and support to make them employable, functional, constructive members of society. 

The program also takes incarcerated youth under wing by taking full legal responsibility for their actions through an indenture arrangement. All of the graduates leave the program by the age of 25 and are known for being exceedingly polite, well educated, and multi skilled. Most leave multilingual and with a bachelor’s degree in their ~delegated~ chosen field. 

The thing is. 

That’s all the public really knows.

Christopher Bergen is charismatic and charming and very Open™ about the program and his estate. He regularly talks about it in interviews, and there are some relatively well known ex-Bergen Boys who also talk about the program favourably. But nobody actually knows what goes on there. They just know Bad Young People go in and Well Adjusted Adults come out. Nobody really thinks about it beyond that. Nobody really thinks about the ones that go missing, or that quietly and seamlessly end up back in the judicial system, or that just… seem to stay under 25 for a really really long time. 

Those staying at Bergen Estate are believed by the public to be individuals of particularly high risk or dangerous behaviours, who need additional support for success back in the real world. Kids on trial for murder, those exhibiting of particularly dangerous repeated behaviours, that sort of thing. The truth of it is these are just the people that Christopher has taken a particular specific liking to or interest in. 

In this ‘verse, a number of people ( the “evolutionarily advanced”) have telepathy-adjacent powers that they can use to varying levels of success. Often, the kids that end up at Bergen Estate just so happen to have these abilities, or at least seem to develop them after a few months. It’s not a hard-and-fast rule that those at the estate will have powers, it just seems to be a high correlation. 

Christopher is a combo of pretty common whumper tropes. He’s a collector. He likes pretty things. He likes unusual things. And he likes to be loved. The Bergen Foundation and the good reputation it gives means he can have those things on a large scale. But Bergen Estate means he can have them intimately. Christopher gets what he wants. But he’s a good person and he’ll go about getting them in the right way. Eye for an eye for an eye for an eye if he has to.

As for Cass.

Cass wasn’t particularly special, compared to any of the other charges at Christopher’s estate. He did something wrong, then he did something right, then he caught the attention of Christopher.

Surprising approximately no one, Cass had a rough upbringing. He was in and out of juvie from quite a young age, and soon enough had captured the attention of Bergen Foundation staff. He was bright enough, charming when he wanted to be, and the perfect candidate for a success story down the track.

Unfortunately for them, they pretty quickly realised he wouldn’t be a success story. Unfortunately for Cass, Christopher had already taken an interest in the boy in his program who could seemingly get whatever he wanted from whoever he wanted but still hadn’t run away.

At 16 he received a personal visit from Christopher, who gave him an offer he couldn’t refuse and legal proceedings immediately went underway to transfer Cassius’ sentence to the Estate. The rest, as they say, is trauma.

As for his purpose there…occasionally Christopher used Cass the way Tucker does, to sway business deals and woo clients and friends in whatever way Christopher wanted, but frankly Christopher doesn’t need a whole lot of help with business. So mostly, he was just there to give Christopher whatever he wanted. Because Christopher decided he liked him. Simple as that.

[punkscowardschampions]

Sick Kids

gotspoons: [A chatroom/forum situation for teens with invisible illnesses/disabilities, a resource that is recommended when you can't go to IRL groups for your health/they aren't in your area etc] gotspoons: Ticked one whole thing off my to-do list today, feeling like a champ 💪 also feeling like a 2-hour long nap, who here relates? 🥱 tigerbalm: 🖐 took my nap earlier & yet 😴💤 brainpain: 💕🛏 brainpain: long lasting relationship with my memory foam mattress gotspoons: There is NO limit on the number of naps necessary to make it through the day tigerbalm: or the number of abandoned to-do lists, what was your 1 thing? gotspoons: 🚿 looks like breakfast will have to wait tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: @brainpain I have so many memory foam pillows in every room of my house I'm basically a shareholder 🙌 brainpain: @tooexhaustedtolivevicariously same but I've got my fave, I call him Edgar tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: 👏🙏 thank you for your service, Edgar tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: must name mine, only named the chariot 🦼 Charlton gotspoons: [ihatemyguts has entered the chat] gotspoons: A newbie, welcome! tigerbalm: 👋 tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: love the username, what ails ya? tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: because this is the only place it's acceptable to ask 'what's WRONG with you?' but not the only place you encounter it, right brainpain: but you don't have to answer cos it's also somewhere where you're encouraged to 'express yourself' translation: be an arsehole if you want brainpain: if you don't go hardcore enough to get blocked brainpain: @fibrofog LMAO tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: the normies get to be rude as their default, and it is NOT encouraged to hit people with your cane, let me tell you ihatemyguts: Hi, everyone ihatemyguts: I'll do my best not to be an arsehole, even if my problem only lie directly above said orifice, which makes it a struggle not to be at times ihatemyguts: UC, first flare totally fucked over the family holiday 😬 sorry to that hotel toilet and my long-suffering parents and brother brainpain: newbie got jokes AND comedy timing ihatemyguts: 🚽 humour isn't all I have, I swear, though my life now does revolve entirely around the porcelain throne so it's no surprise I'm anally expulsive, thanks to Freud for that read tigerbalm: Freud's the perv, am I right? ihatemyguts: Totally ihatemyguts: and a big believer in the cocaine cure-all, which my Doctor just wasn't going for, shame tigerbalm: sounds like my sleazy uncle in every way tigerbalm: why does everybody get one? gotspoons: 😂 This chat is worth keeping my eyes open for gotspoons: every family is a play, and we're destined to be the 'sick kid' part gotspoons: other players react accordingly, from the 'can't look at you without crying' to the 'thinks you're making it up for some reason' brainpain: I vote we all go off script like @fibrofog 🤬🚨👿❗️ ihatemyguts: I guess I'm lucky in the sense that if anyone doubts the legitimacy of my illness, I can offer to show them the contents of my stomach/toilet bowl ihatemyguts: that shuts them up relatively fast, not had to go full 🐒 and throw it at anyone yet ihatemyguts: though I'm intrigued by the infamous @fibrofog, who are they, where, and why the infamy? Fill a girl in brainpain: the myth, the legend brainpain: so angry cos I turned 'em down for a romantic rendezvous ihatemyguts: No way! ihatemyguts: I'm glad that napping isn't the only action the memory foam is getting ihatemyguts: we're just like any other teens, right guys? 💁 tigerbalm: @brainpain you know the rules, fedora pics or it didn't happen! tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: you know what they say about disabled chicks, grateful 😉 tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: #dontkillmeladies #iamnotasleazyuncle tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: don't think Mr. Fog was even a legit 🥄 tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: total predator tigerbalm: if it was my uncle I'm SO sorry 😂 tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: family who piggyback are THE worst tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: no, MY disability doesn't make YOU automatically WOKE for not drowning me in the tub or throwing me off the nearest high place I can access ihatemyguts: Honestly, I've never felt as simultaneously popular and unpopular in my life ihatemyguts: people 💬 a big acceptance game on the socials ihatemyguts: but no one wants to actually hang with the girl who can't eat shit and will spend half her time in the 🚽 gotspoons: Everyone's supportive until your disability gets in the way of THEIR perfect life even slightly gotspoons: imagine if they were one of us 👽 brainpain: speak for yourselves, my slurred speech makes me a hit with all my hard partying peers brainpain: get weird without a 🍹 ihatemyguts: hey man, don't let us drag you down 😎 ihatemyguts: if @fibrofog was feeling you, you're WAY too cool for this chat right now brainpain: never have, never will, baby 😉 brainpain: [inandout has entered the chat] gotspoons: OH MY GOD, that's a whole different story...my parents = you need to socialize more, live life! my parents = I don't know if this group is good for you, we think you're being encouraged to display and give in to even more problems gotspoons: thanks guys, you're literally making me more disabled with your disabledness 😂 tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: It is a cult, well-known fact, leave your productiveness to society at the door and let's all lie here and feel sorry for ourselves, doesn't that sound like fun, kids? 😈 tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: and 👋 sup, inandout, not seen you in a while tigerbalm: my parents act like y'all are catching too! Would you like to cage me like a legit 🐅 or? inandout: baited breath inandout: out living that life like @gotspoons parents want tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: It'll be the Olympics next tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: 🥇 Hero status with the normies, inspirational, dude inandout: if it'll make adults I've never met proud of me ihatemyguts: I can't believe I've not checked if I'm disabled enough for the paras, oh my God ihatemyguts: are there enough of us for a basketball team? brainpain: if ONLY my former lover were here brainpain: he's gotta be so tall ihatemyguts: Pining for @fibrofog is productive, yeah? ihatemyguts: can pine from my throne just fine brainpain: hands off newbie! I will throw mine brainpain: LOL imagine gotspoons: This group has always had a bias towards too many girls gotspoons: it's almost as if even disabled boys don't wanna talk about their feelings gotspoons: what say you @tooexhaustedtolivevicariously and @inandout? 🤔🤴🤴 inandout: I'd bring friends but you know us CF kids aren't allowed to congregate inandout: and what could I possibly have in common with someone who doesn't share my disease ihatemyguts: So, what is the deal with that, are some of us catching? ihatemyguts: 🐅 parents might have legit concerns inandout: cross infectious but only if you've got what's got me inandout: none of you do so you'll need another reason to turn down hanging out in person tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: my fedora is in the wash? inandout: Fibro could easily say it's my jewishness brainpain: but it's your hunkiness, babe 💪😉 inandout: I'd whistle back at you, Lauren but.... inandout: let's just say you leave me breathless tigerbalm: No names, Zach tigerbalm: it's like a rule ihatemyguts: uh-oh ihatemyguts: if you had a name, Tiger, in theory, like ihatemyguts: 🧐 tigerbalm: Robyn ihatemyguts: Pretty, you others may as well just come out with it now ihatemyguts: even if I'm a massive perv with mad hacking and tracking skills, I pinky promise I won't be able to find you from your given name alone brainpain: give us yours, newbie ihatemyguts: I will, but you'll think I'm giving you a fake one ihatemyguts: it's the gift and curse bestowed upon me at birth, along with potentially dodgy genetics brainpain: your life is 💩 brainpain: but still ihatemyguts: Zelda ihatemyguts: a reference I'm sure you won't get, 'cos you're so 😎 brainpain: I game, the stream was fibros fave hunting ground brainpain: no 💩 tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: Turns out being a nerd is way easy from the relative (barely but beats death, yeah?) comfort of the memory foam tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: and Rich 👍 only in name, destitute until my next pittance comes in tigerbalm: she's not supposed to 🎮 -headaches -dizziness -light & sound sensitivity but she's a REBEL brainpain: 👌 MOM maybe I'd love a seizure, what do you know? ihatemyguts: I respect it ihatemyguts: gonna be fondly reminiscing over all those dirty, evil trigger foods when they're resecting my bowel 🖕🚔 brainpain: I had a life before I had a TBI, no offense to 👶 Zach inandout: none taken gotspoons: You're all being bad and I cannot support it 🤐😜 gotspoons: and I'm Rosie, I will just 😴 out on you all the time and yes, it's a fantastic excuse for when you don't wanna respond ihatemyguts: I'll commit all of those to memory in a normal, non-creepy manner ihatemyguts: but whilst I'm allowed to be a n00b, what do you all do for school? brainpain: I was nearly done before 🤯 which got me my pity pass ihatemyguts: pity with a point, at least, alright tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: I'm waiting to start uni, absolutely no thanks to my school and their totally ableist refusal to make reasonable adjustments for accessibility tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: but fedora or not, I can be a real arsehole, a loud, persistent one at that tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: take my applause now brainpain: 😍 brainpain: take my 💘 tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: as long as it's not heavy, m'lady brainpain: you could 💔 brainpain: hold the pieces tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: 🧠 just isn't poetic enough brainpain: you know me gotspoons: you guys are so cute 🥰 and your broken brain is beautiful, Lauren gotspoons: me though, I'm barely struggling through school still, so many sick days, so much catching up to do 🥱 just thinking about it and therein lies the problem tigerbalm: my parents are trying to get online classes set up but my headteacher is like a million years old inandout: is he a demon? inandout: that was some scary fiction brainpain: or was it? brainpain: cue up those sound effects tigerbalm: if we're gonna talk about hypnosis, I'm out ihatemyguts: that was some serious creepy uncle vibes ihatemyguts: why did he need that level of control ihatemyguts: 🐘 in the room tigerbalm: I have a hippie cousin too, alternative therapy talk is so triggering ihatemyguts: I need a memoir re. your family sitch immediately 😂 ihatemyguts: you get the food purists coming @ me as if I just eat the right thing I'd be 'cured' tigerbalm: I'm working on a screenplay but I've never written a script before, I did find an online class for that easily though ihatemyguts: that's actually 😎 ihatemyguts: soz, Lauren brainpain: she's our lil busy 🐝 brainpain: step your game up, Zachary brainpain: supposed to be you, bro inandout: let Robbie have it, she has more sick days to fill up ihatemyguts: always have your 🥇 inandout: I can pin it on like a star when I got to school with the masses inandout: let them know I'm not what normal looks like ihatemyguts: only the others like you need to have the scoop on that though ihatemyguts: really fucks with the segregation in a big way inandout: “I feel like someone breathed new air into my lungs. I am not Abnegation. I am not Dauntless. I am Divergent.” ihatemyguts: Tattoo idea inandout: if I make it to 18, I'll do it ihatemyguts: how long you given yourself there? inandout: I turned 14 in may, the party was a full blown rager inandout: 🏥🎂 ihatemyguts: you like ruining events too? ihatemyguts: what a coincidence, don't just do family holidays inandout: if I can't blow up 🎈 nobody can ihatemyguts: 🥳 smug bastard inandout: I find that party blower offensive inandout: Rosie! That's a strike for the new girl ihatemyguts: Come to me when it's as culturally iconic as 💩 ihatemyguts: my next (first) tattoo right there inandout: how long are you waiting for that masterpiece? ihatemyguts: was 14 in March ihatemyguts: if we both make it, it's a date inandout: cool inandout: way I'm going that'll be my first one brainpain: now I feel like a pervy OLD uncle brainpain: thank you 👶s ihatemyguts: Lemme guess? ihatemyguts: I'm thinking 19 brainpain: spooky brainpain: I'm an Aquarius if anyone cares ihatemyguts: our 🌟s aligning might be too close to alternative for comfort tigerbalm: I'm a cancer, which is awkward tigerbalm: not my diagnosis ihatemyguts: at least it's memorable ihatemyguts: literally tacked on at the end, who's remembering 🎣 tigerbalm: I hope my 16th will be, for the right reasons tigerbalm: I've still got 5 months left to plan ihatemyguts: 🤞🤞🤞 tigerbalm: I'll add your name, the others know they're all invited ihatemyguts: that's so nice ihatemyguts: considering this introduction has given away nothing if not I am a terrible guest brainpain: another chat about online safety, Robyn, REALLY? 😏 brainpain: did my failed romance teach you nothing? ihatemyguts: if that isn't a challenge to send a photo and make you feel really weird ihatemyguts: why are we anon anyway, to stop us uprising? ihatemyguts: metaphorically if not literally, no offense xoxo brainpain: f it brainpain: I need you all to sign up to my stream to pay my bills anyways brainpain: [a selfie] ihatemyguts: @fibrofog, I get it brainpain: don't flock to tell me how sexy I am, that'd make it weird brainpain: plus, I know tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: I picked an awkward time to check back in tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: Rosie falls asleep and anarchy reigns? tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: I'm proud brainpain: 💔 YOU haven't showered me with compliments, but hey tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: if I made it that easy you'd never be 💘 brainpain: 😩 tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: to save any of the rest of you following such a hard act tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: [pic] tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: it's old but still a rough estimation of what I look like on a good day brainpain: 😍 brainpain: You're up, girl Z ihatemyguts: if you're all good looking though, I'm so mad ihatemyguts: [a selfie] ihatemyguts: 💩 inandout: I'm not good looking, I'll go next inandout: besides, Robbie would never bow to peer pressure and Rosie is out for the count inandout: [a selfie] tigerbalm: I am 🙀 tigerbalm: but everyone else has tigerbalm: [the shyest selfie of all time] ihatemyguts: 😻😻😻 ihatemyguts: seriously ihatemyguts: representation done us dirty on so many levels now ihatemyguts: when we're not invisible, why we not so gorgeous tigerbalm: there should be a blushing 😸 tigerbalm: that's the representation I need ihatemyguts: Call me out all you need but I was convinced this whole thing would be a lot more tragic than it has been inandout: tragic Tuesdays are a thing brainpain: no they are f-ing not brainpain: Zachary, just cos the new girl's in your age bracket + shares your 1st initial brainpain: she is not corruptible to you inandout: check us on our date, Lauren inandout: but watch your profanity brainpain: watch me give you a DIY lung transplant gotspoons: Excuse me gotspoons: what is going on here brainpain: nothing babe, it's all a dream gotspoons: 😖 gotspoons: if it was, none of you would be here gotspoons: sorry to say brainpain: we love you too brainpain: hit us with that sleepy selfie gotspoons: You know we aren't meant to give out personal info in the public forum gotspoons: if you choose to privately, that's okay though gotspoons: also I don't look any better for my shower now 🥴🤫 brainpain: you're a hottie gotspoons: 😘 gotspoons: well, my blog IS going to be featured on [insert disability awareness news moment] next month, so it isn't as if you couldn't find 🖼 if you really wanted gotspoons: [photo] tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: Congrats, Ro tigerbalm: a genuine 👏👏👏 tigerbalm: I love your blog gotspoons: Ty, ty 🙇 gotspoons: it's the same as my username, if you wanna check it out, newbie 😄 brainpain: but have you been on the news for being the victim of a violent crime? 😏 just me LOL inandout: Lauren's trading on her fame again inandout: let Rosie have her moment ihatemyguts: pass along all relevant info and I'll 🤓 right up brainpain: @inandout 🍒😃💩👅 brainpain: enjoy the profanity, bro inandout: today's highlight tigerbalm: Zelda could take offence at that, Zach tigerbalm: I think it was nice to meet her ihatemyguts: Not at all ihatemyguts: though it's cultural appropriation to use that emoji without my permission, I'll let it slide 😉 ihatemyguts: nice meeting you all too tigerbalm: I really am gonna have to tell you about my family now ihatemyguts: All I wanted, tbh tigerbalm: everyone else knows this but my parents are white Americans & they adopted me and my brothers who are Native and African American respectively tigerbalm: & you saw me, the Korean girl so ihatemyguts: Ohh tigerbalm: it sounds like a show that should air on ABC family, right? tigerbalm: hella awkward ihatemyguts: I'm brainstorming (p. sure we're not meant to say that, soz) titles rn ihatemyguts: inappropriate question alert, verbal smackdowns appreciated if needed ihatemyguts: did they adopt you knowing you were disabled or is that a new development? tigerbalm: I was gonna call it building bridges but we can't really say that the USA has wronged Korea like the other nations tigerbalm: though they did adopt me knowing so maybe it still works 😄 ihatemyguts: it's got legs tigerbalm: 🦿 ihatemyguts: Ugh, must dash ihatemyguts: 🩸💉s tigerbalm: best of luck ihatemyguts: 💕 total pro by now 💪 brainpain: if I don't 👀 you on my stream I'll 🔎 you here in the forums inandout: a threatening goodbye inandout: can't compete tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: 👋 Hope to see you back here, Zelda tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: though you wouldn't be the first person to 👻 after dropping in, so no pressure, @Lauren gotspoons: but actually, we're always here, some of us more than others, but you'll always find someone to chat to about the things you can't with non-spoonies ihatemyguts: ✌

[bubblesthemonsterartist]

hello my Obikiki brethren♥ i just want Kiki to flirt back ONCE to completely floor Obi and possibly ruin his whole day lmao "I was not expecting that and now I'm terrified of Miss Kiki."

Theworld is dark. Muffled. And cold.

Shiftinghis weight onto the ball of his left foot, Obi flexes his palms, slowly exhalesto calm his own racing heart, and listens.

“Mymoney is on you, Lady Seiran!”

“Puthim in the ground!”

Plantingone hand on his hip and raising the other palm down, Obi tilts his head down tocheck his nails. As if he could see them through the thrice folded fabriccovering his eyes. The crowd guffaws, some of them throwing taunts, otherspleased, depending on how they lay their bets.

Theodds are against him. After witnessing the test of Makiri’s blade to hers the day prior, confidence in him spilledfrom the spectators like the coin from their purse.

“Sendhim into early retirement!”

Obibites down on his grin. One of these days, they’ll learn. 

Ormaybe a few of them already have. 

It starts out slow. First by one, then bytwo, then by ten. Heavy boots land hard against the packed earth and gravel, thecrushing of rocks louder than all their voices raised together.

Cheats,the whole lot of them. 

“Ibelieve in you, Sir Obi!” 

“Goeasy on her!” 

Sweatprickles along the press of fabric, the taste of kicked up dirt landing on histongue. Of all the things to say; of all the encouragements to yell. He thought at least Hiro liked him.

Butunder the din, he hears the shift. She’s small. Compact. Graceful and deadly.Light on her feet and- 

Obi’sgrin grows predatory under his cowl. “Sloppy.”

Herhubris gets the better of her – always too eager to prove others wrong, too eager toshow she’s not less – and sheapproaches from behind, moving in a weaving pattern to throw him off. She just barely manages to do more than brush the strap dangling from his jacket beforehe’s on her. Torso twisting, his hand wraps around the thick leather of her wristguard, one of his boots slotting themselves between hers, and with just aslight pop of the hip-

Theelation of the crowd circling them reaches a new height, mixing with cries of despair. He would feel sorry for them, but-

ButObi lets go of her wrist, pulls the blindfold from his eyes.

-thelook of surprise on Miss Kiki’s face, eyes wide and unblinking as she stares up at him,is most certainly worth their suffering.

“Alrightdown there?” he grins, eyes already gritty from the dust.

Herface regains its elasticity, and she glares. “Sorry,” she coughs, pushing herself up to standing and brushing her pants off. He manages to bite his tongue long enough to curb the offer to help with her backside. “I can’t hear what you saidthrough that that rag on your face.” 

“Now,now,” Obi tsks, grinning behind his cowl. “You’re just mad you didn’t think you need one.” 

Around them, spectators turning on their heels, kicking up dirt as they head back to their own training. Obi squints through it after them, watching them go with an internal sigh. There were some things he started this position with thinking he wouldn’t have to teach; not leaving unnecessary tracks was one of them. But yet again, here they were proving him wrong. He was going to have to talk to Jirou about-

He almost doesn’t hear it. He certainly doesn’t see it. But his body moves, back arching, neck straining, feet squaring to stabilize his truck. 

It’s a surprise to both of them to find her fist caught in the palm of his hand. Right in front of his eyes.

Obi almost laughs. He definitely chokes. “Miss Kiki,” he manages, impressed, clenching his fingers down down when she moves to pull back. “The solution to being sloppy isn’t to get sloppier.”

She doesn’t listen. Which, considering who she had to train with in Wistal, shouldn’t exactly be a surprise. Withher hand in his, she goes for his ribs with the side of her other palm next. Sucking his stomach in, he jumps back, grunting when she manages to land a hit hard enough to knock his hand loose.

Fist yanked free, she takes a few steps back. A little thrill runs through him when she rolls her shoulders back, squaring back up. It’s a side of her that rarely sees, only coming out to play when Sir and Master and Miss are not within sight: chin lifted, clothes skewed, and hair a mess. Her wounded pride sparks in her eyes… And it is this that always makes him wonder, makes him think-  

Were she even one inch less the daughter of Seiran she tries so hard to be, just how easy might it been for her to lay down with the rogue he once was.

He shouldn’t think these things. Sir would have his head, refusal of her proposal or no. And Hisame, well, he really doesn’t care what the Vice Captain thinks.

“Is there something funny?” she asks, fists still raised like she expects him to pull a dirty trick as well.

He shakes his head. Pulls his cowl down when a single finger to offer her a grin and a wink. “I was just thinking how pretty you look on your back.”

Iflooks were a knife, he’d be bleeding out in the dirt. “You lookbetter on yours.”

“Isthat an offer?” Obi purrs, swaggering a little closer. He’s playing a dangerous game, he knows. But he just can’t help it. Not when she makes it so easy. “Ask me nicely. Maybe I’ll offer myself up.”

Her stance doesn’t loosen, but her eyes drop, scanning him from top to bottom with a slow appraisal. When they meet his again, the quirk of the eyebrow, the touch of a smirk are the last things he’s expecting. It throws him off. Enough that she drops her defense and gets in close. Close enough that when something soft presses against his arm, he looks down only to snap his eyes north again. 

Kiki is watching him, her look no less dangerous than the first but for an entirely different reason. The only blood that remains in his brain is there only to remind him of her breasts pressed up against him. The rest is making its way down to his cock, and he-

Ah, it has been too long. He must be making things up.

“If you’re so inclined, I’d be happy to prove it,” she says, close enough to his jaw that the hairs stand up on his arms. “Tonight. Here. No audience.”

Obi’s breath hitches, staring at that slow curl of pink lips, feeling the way her body presses to his arm with every inhalation, and he’s definitely, definitely imaging things.

“Obi!Kiki!” Miss’s voice breaks the moment, and guilt mixes with arousal at the sight of her at the edge of the training yard, a bag of pastries held victorious above her head. “I got there early enough to get the chocolate ones!”

“Wonderful, Miss!” he calls back, stepping away. Trying to forget that once familiar warmth of a woman against him. His skin aches in its absence, screaming at how it was only just starting to remember. “Miss Kiki made me work up an appetite!”

~~ ~

“Ow, ow, ow, owww….”

“Stop moving,” Miss scolds, prodding his bruise. “It’s only going to take longer the more you do.”

“But Misssssss,” he whines, squirming away from her cool fingers. “Can’t we just leave it this time?”

“No.”

Obi grits his teeth, staring hopelessly at the ceiling. Normally, this was the best part of his trainings. Whenever one of his men landed a lucky blow, it was their tradition for them to drag him to the pharmacy, fretting and fearful that they might have done something irreparable to his body. Or perhaps incur the wrath of Miss. He’s never told them that they needn’t worry about either possibility. If he hadn’t managed to do the first then it was impossible, and the second- Well, he never failed to draw Miss’s fire to him and him alone.

“What were you and Kiki doing anyway?” she asks, her hands leaving his skin for a moment. To his utter mortification, he makes a soft sound of loss, but she thankfully doesn’t seem to hear it.

“Just!” His explanation breaks out into a gasp, back arching when she lays something cold against the bruising. Her fingers lingers as she spreads the salve that smells like lemongrass and her. “Just sparring.”

“Mm,” Miss nods, her cheeks a little flushed. “Kiki keeps promising to teach me self defense, but I don’t know…”

Ah, that is not an image he needs in his brain. Not ever, but especially not today. Not with a single catch of flint to stone, Miss Kiki had lit him up so easily. He would’ve preferred going to his room to alieve the issue before going to the pharmacy, but Miss Kiki had grinned around her pastry, tongue picking crumbs from her lips, and casually informed Miss that she may have cracked a rib.

“Do you think she’ll be gentle with me?” Miss asks, eyes a little glazed as she presses a poultice to his side. “If I take her up on it, I mean.”

Obi can’t stop himself. He groans, turning away and hiding his face in his hands.

“Obi?” she starts, keeping her hand on his ribs to hold the herb pack in place. “I’m sorry! Did that hurt?”

“I’m fine,” he manages, face muffled in the scratchy bedding. “But I’m sure Miss Kiki would take very good care of you.”

Praise to all the gods he doesn’t believe in, because he doesn’t think to look back at her. For when she speaks again, he doesn’t think he’d be able to stand knowing what she looks like when she sounds like that. 

“I think I would like that,” she admits softly. Shyly. Then suddenly, sighing. “Do you know she has a special lotion sent from home? It’s something her mother had created so she doesn’t get callouses from her sword. Her hands are so soft…”

He’s going to die. This is his punishment. For any number of things. Maybe not murder but certainly for loving his Masters love. 

“Is that so?” he chokes. “I’ll have to ask her for some.”

“Oh, Obi!” Miss chirps. “Just get me the recipe and I’ll make it for you.”

~~ ~

Heforgets. Or that’s what he tells himself. But with the fire burning beneath his skin that has kept him half hard all day, part of him is… hopeful. To be wanted - just once - like he used to be. Evenif it simply because Miss Kiki wants to take the aggression out on him that she can no longer takeout on Sir.

So when he finds himself back at the training grounds at dusk, he tells himself that he’s just checking. Just making sure that the reports the night shift have been leaving are false. (Pick up your shit! Caro’s scrawl screamed, pinned up against his door the last three mornings in a row.)

The reports were, unfortunately, accurate.

Obi sighs, surveying the staffs and practice swords laying haphazardly on the ground. The unswept practice ring. The sweat towels piled unceremoniously in a dusty corner. And he adds yet another item to his men’s curriculum.

Grumbling to himself, Obi picks up the three bow staffs closest to him, intent on putting them back in their place when the distinct sound of a blade being whetted sings not five feet away. 

His knives are already in his hands by the time wood clatters to the ground.

Miss Kiki doesn’t look up, through. Legs spread and sword laying between them, her eyes follow the length of it, the movement of her hands as she slides them slowly. Casually. Obscenely. Up. And down. And up. And down again.

“Obi,”she finally says, and his mouth clicks shut. Under torchlight, the cut of her cheekbones are sharp as the blade she treats… so well. “I’ve been waiting.”

“Uhm.” He’s really so eloquent today.

“Allthis time you professed how you are trying to be a gentleman.” Her lips curl in a slow grin,hand drifting in a slow caress down the hilt of her blade. Sweat beads athis hairline when the tips of her fingers pause against the dark leather, nails briefly biting into it. “But I knowhow you really are.”

Herthumb sweeps over the base and he swallows. Hard. 

Kiki’s hands are really soft, Miss had said. He should’ve asked how soft.

“Remember,Obi.” She watches him from under her lashes. “You shouldn’t keep a lady waiting.”

Obican’t fly fast enough.

————–

She’sthe first one in the office.

Shirayukistumbles into the pharmacy, rubbing the sleep from her crusty eyes. Last night was cold. Too cold to sleep, especially after her burner gutted out sometime in the early hours of the morning. Doubly so when she crept to Obi’s room, trying to steal some of his warmth, only to find his bed empty and cold.

She hadn’t wanted to come in early for once - all of her projects were relying on others at this point - but at least it is warm here. The burners have been running all night, climate control being worth the expense to funding, and Shirayuki shovels another handful of coal on top of the dwindling fires. A blast of heat rewards her diligence and some of the ice under her skin melts. 

Where was Obi last night? she wonders, pulling the curtains open to let stark winter light fill the room. Every time she’s needed him, he’s always been there. Save for when he left to go help Zen, but she had been expecting the silence then. The cold. The uncertainty of not knowing where he was or if he was okay.

But maybe- maybe he was just fine. Maybe he was with that girl. The one she caught him with when Zen was here. He said he wasn’t interested, she knows, but- 

But people change their minds all the time. And she’s never seen him with anyone else. She knows how easy it is to feel lonely. To wish for- for someone’s hand to hold. For someone’s heart under your ear-

Shaking her swirling thoughts into an attempt at stillness, she ties off the curtains and moves on.

It’snot her business what he does in his free time. She wouldn’tmake him the Mitsuhide to her Zen. Not that Zen forced Mitsuhide’s hand, of course. But shewants Obi to have a life independent of hers. It would be nice to see him happy. To be married, even. Maybe even- even kids.

Really. She swears that is what she wants.

Pain registers, sharp, and Shirayuki yelps.Bringing her fingers to her lips, she glares down at the flame innocently flickering up at her from the workstation. Pulling the abused skin from her mouth, she gives them a quick appraisal. They’re red where the fire licked her, but nothing too bad.

Still, it would be best to- to get away from more delicate instruments. And treat her own injury before Obi noticed - as he most certainly would. If she left it untreated, the fretting would be endless. Just countless reminders about how aware of her surroundings she needs to be. How careful. What would Master say if I didn’t take care of you?

She needs to stop thinking about this. About him.

The doors to the supply closet swing open easy, and she takes only a single step in before, in the shadows, the light catches on two golden eyespeering at her from low in the dark.

Shirayuki screams, feet leaving the ground. Twisting in the air, she grasps for something to grab hold to, fails, and unsurprisingly her landing doesn’t stick. The moment her ankle turns, she twists, falling towards what is likely going to be a really bad spraign when an arm bands around her middle, jerking her up mid fall, another hand covering her mouth.

Shirayuki’s eyes widen.

“Shh!” Obi’s eyes are as wide as hers, dragging her back into the closet and closing it behind them.

“Obi!”Shirayuki says, muffled against his palm. She jerks her head back and tries again, “Obi, what are you doing in here?”

He gestures frantically for her to lower her voice, and in the light seeping through the cracks in the door, she can see the way his hair is mussed, face flushed, and clothes crumpled.

Shirayuki’s face burns at the thought thathe might have- might have brought someone here. That she might have caught him. The fact that she sees no one means little.

“Obi,”she tries again, touching his arm. Beneath her fingers, every single muscle bunches up and she draws back, stung. “Were you hereall night?”

“MissKiki.” His eyes are wide, panicked when he looks back to her. “I don’t know- I think she might wantto kill me.”

Shirayuki blinks. Then stares. Slowly, the lines connect the dots and her worry dissolves into memory like a wisp ofsmoke. “Are you drunk?”

“No!”

“Stoned?”

“No!”

Those answers were far too guilty. Far too fast. But- she sniffs- he doesn’t smell of liquor. Or the horriblesmelling herbs that are far too popular in the northern territories. But thenagain, she’s taught him all the ways to cover it and he is in the storage closet.

“Thenwhy weren’t you in your room last night?”

Hisface grimaces from guilt and she prepares herself for the excuses. For the explanation that it was all Kiki’s idea. Or Makiri’s. Or his men’s. “Was it cold?” he asks instead.

“Iwas fine,” she lies through her teeth. “Just worried.”

He winces, voice dropping low. “I’m sorry, Miss.”

Guilt churns in her own belly and she- she’s really being far too unfair. “You know,” she begins, quiet. Uncertain of how she’s going to say this, but certain that she might die from saying it. “I’m not stopping you from-from having fun. You can always bring someone back to your rooms if- if that’s what you want.I don’t mind.”

He stares at her as if she’s grown another head. “I-” He laughs, high pitched, mouth offering nothing more than that.

“I mean,” Shirayuki rushes. “I don’t want you to think that you have to find a storage closet if you wanted to- to- uhm-”

“No!” Obi barks, far louder than she ever was. He’s shaking his head emphatically in the negative. “I was here all night! Alone!”

Her face must show just how much she doesn’t believe him, because she is suddenly subjected to a fountain of words. Words that make less and less sense the more he talks and Shirayuki can feel the sigh rising up in her before she squashes it down.

“Obi,”she interrupts, right when he’s starting up on some yarn about how Kiki appeared in the shadows like some lustful succubus. “I know you don’t lie often, but you really do need to try harder than this.”

His jaw drops. “Miss!”

“I’ve got work to do,” she says, shaking her head and walking back into the pharmacy. “Whatever bet you loss, just pay her and be done with it!”

“ButMiss!”

The door shuts in his face.

[musicalmelody001]

So, like, back on that crutches thing nobody cared about...

It's been a while. It's the end of the 4th week, and those estimated 2-3 weeks to heal were a LIE. My foot still hurts pretty much on the same level as it did on the third day- a fuck ton better than the first, but still an issue walking. Granted, I only used the crutches for 6 days before I got tired of using my entire lunch break walking TO the bathroom. So, like. Still hurts. Except, oh yeah. Some fun stuff. Someone hit my car the second week, and I walked without my crutches to the nearest store (two city major intersections) in heavy-ass rain to get some ducttape to put back together the pieces of my bumper that I had JUST replaced out-of-pocket. I wasn't gonna buy a new fucking bumper less than a month after getting this one. Fuck that. Then, THIS WEEK. This week started off with a bang if that bang is a gun that shoots you in the face with bullets that explode into fireworks that spell "Fuck You".

Monday, I woke up super late and instead of arriving 30min early as I prefer, I showed up 6 minutes late. Which is TECHNICALLY a fireable offense. Later, my co-worker asked me to drive her to her friend's house after work. Her car was out of comission and would otherwise walk home - 13ish miles. So I drove her to the opposite edge of the city, the long way around because of course the gps is messing up. I finally get her to her friend's house, and turn on the gps to head home. It's about 40 minutes since we left work, but GPS says 22min to home with light traffic. Sounds good. Wanna eat some ice cream. Monday was expected to be -and WAS- the worst/bussiest/most aggrivating day of the quarter, possibly TWO quarters. All the fucking stars alligned for the day from hell for the whole department for eight solid hours.

Anywhoo, heading onto the only highway for miles -because we're inthe middle of nowhere and there's just green everywhere outside of that one main street a mile back that had a neighborhood and like three businesses, and about a mile or so down the road I notice a bunch of heat in the cabin. Coming from the air vents. And a slight smoke smell. While the ac/heater was completely off. I take the upcoming exit, and pull over in a church parkinglot that suddely shows up amongst the freaking endless trees. Turm off the car. Get outside. Pop the hood. A WALL of heat blasts me, and I feel it as I hover my hand over the engine. Okay, no big deal, I'll let it cool. But, I'm out of gas. Might have trouble getting home.

Remembering the oil leak from last month, I check the dipstick. Looks dry, might be out of oil too. I pull out my phone to google the nearest gas station. It just barely see the words "3.4 miles", then my phone fucking shuts off on me, and it's useless now. Close the hood, lock the car. I walk over to the church. Lights off, doors locked. Parking lot empty. I walk around the side and see a few cars. I walk to another door. Locked. Dark inside. But there's an intercom on the side. I assume the people there must be employees working on something durring the week, like at the church I used to go to as a kid. I push the button and offer a hesitant "Hello?" No response. Great. I turn around and take a few steps away from the door, try to get my phone to turn back on. Not responding. After a minute or two I hear a click behind me. A big, burly dark-skinned dude (for reference for my comparison, my family are all around 6ft and a nice medium tan, except me, 5'3" and whiter than printing paper) has the (completely clear glass) door open the tiniest little crack and just looks at me, "Can I help you?"

"My car broke down, is there a gas station near here?" I ask. He gestures down the road blocked by trees, "That way," and closes the door.

I stare out to the road for a bit. That was... So... Not what I was expecting. Or that helpful, really. So I head back to my car, grab the 1gal gas tank in my trunk, and inspect my windows after noticing the broken glass on the ground. Not from my car, but it still does not instill confidence. I pull out the pepper spray from my purse and have it casually resting in my hand, locked, the loop around my wrist. I take my flashlight from my glove box and put it in my purse, just in case. It's hot now, but I drape my cardigan across my sounder, and start heading down the road.

And down, and down. Down a steep hill, my ankle starts screaming as I loose sight of the church between the trees, and I keep going. I pass the higjeay, go underneath it and keep walking in the same direction. And keep walking. Pass a pair of 2ft wooden crosses sticking out of the grass on the side of the road, with fresh flowers, and a small child's toy next to one of them. I feel a sudden chill. I keep walking. Further, I cross a road and keep going, no cars, no buildings, but also no trees now. Just grass. I keep going. The hill gets steeper, I see what MIGHT be the corner of a gas station on the horison, on the second peak ahead. I l

Keep walking, and the hill reaches small flat section before sloping back up. More grass, but now more trees. I see the edge of a biking trail in the distance to my right. Assuming that means a freaking TOWN, I keep going. Up more. Some dilapidated houses that may or may not still be in residence. An empty box of diapers in the middle of the road, that I carefully approach, looking both ways down the empty road, and check for animals before moving it to the side and off the road, placing it by a cinderblock nearby so it doesn't blow back into the road and cause an accident, hopefully. I keep walking. I reach some train tracks and stand there for three minutes, completely confused as to WHAT THE FUCK these road markings are supposed to mean.

The sun is setting and I can see the maybe-gas station not too far away, so I take a picture and keep walking. My ankle REALLY hurts. I finally make it to the gas station, the sun is lower, and I go inside. I pre-pay for a gallon of gas, and an item on the recipt I did not get. I ask and am told it is a fee for using a card, I don't believe him but don't care anymore. I want to go home. I'm told a pump. The pump does not dispense gas. I try again. No response. The screen says "see cashieer inside to pay". I head inside. I say it doesn't work. Clerk says it does. I confirm the number, and go back outside. I try it again. No dice. I hit the button a bit harder, pull the lever. Nothing. I roll my eyes again. Go back inside. Am told that I am not doing it right, that I need to press the button first. Go back outside, try three more times. Go back inside. Ignored. Go back outside, paranoid now that cars are starting to arrive that maybe it will suddenly work, and someone else will get the gas. I try again. Nope. I see someone walk up from behind me in my peripheral, and I think they try to ask me for change, but I ended up screaming frustratedly at the same exact time so they leave awkwardly.

I try AGAIN. Nope. No gas. Not flowing. I go back inside. The clerk is glaring like he never wants to see me again. I say it doesn't work. He says I already got the gas. "Bull shit! It hasn't done a fucking thing!" He goes outside with me to the pump, yelling at me, hits the side of the pump, and it starts working. What the fuck. Who gives a fuck, I'm so done. I get my gallon of overpriced gas, and start to walk away as I realize I forgot the oil. I'm not going back inside. I see a small convience-like store a block or two down. Walk to it. Am asked multiple times for change and/or cash. Repeately advise that I do not have any.

I get inside, and honest the food they're selling is probably SO sketchy but I'm starved. I skipped breakfast AND lunch, so at the moment it smells so good. I just want to get home and eat. But I only have a few dollars in my account, except for the money for my car payment that I'm expecting to go through any day now. I find some oil, more than I wanted to spend, and head back to the car. It's mega dark now. No stars. Just dark. There's a few street lights here by the stores, so I continue. Reply a few more times that I do not have cash to give.

I make it to the sidewalk where majority of my journey resided, and continue down the street. I put on my cardigan. Now I'm going uphill, and my ankle is asking how I want to die, because it's screaming. I don't know how long it's been. But it's dark and it's SURELY not 6pm amymore. When I reach the intersection back in the place with no trees, a car I had seen doing past me earlier had turned around, and pulled over. No cross-traffic. Sitting at a stop sign in my path. Inside the extra-long sleves of my cardigan, I palm my pepper-spray, and leave my thumb resting lightly on the safety lock. I stop about six or seven feet away from the stop-sign, hesitating. The passenger window rolls down a bit, but I can't see who's inside. "You need a ride?"

I hope that the person is well-meaning, and decline, saying I'm almost to my car. He asks if I'm sure, and after two more refusals he drives off. I continue.

A bit further, another car comes. They're heading the same way, but on the empty road they slow down, rolling down a window to shot accross the three uninhabited lanes, and ask if I need a ride. I decline once again, wishing that I didn't have to walk anymore but also paranoid once the sun sets, and continue walking. A bit later they slow down again, suggesting I get inside. I say I'm fine. I walk further to see they'd driven foreward then turned around, this time having opened the side door. I avoid eye-contact and walk a bit faster. I don't see them again. I pass the crosses and feel a shiver down my spine as my eyes tear up. I hurriedly walk away and the feeling passes.

I reach the highway and my eyesight is blurring. I'm exhausted and my balance is off, repeatedly stopping to steady myself to keep from falling onto the grass or into the road. I reach the last peak, and the lights stop. I'm walking on the sidewalk on the left side of the road now, and grab my flashlight, illuminating the way in front of me mostly to be visible to oncoming traffic as I cross an unmarked intersection.

Finally. In the distance. The church. The parking lot. My car that I left unattended for hours, most likely. I approach, checking again for broken windows and find none. The wind is strong and almost knocking me over. I unlock the car and put my things inside, sans the pepper spray, flashlight, and gas. Closing the door, pop my gas flap and begin the slow process of figuring out how the fuck to put the gas in my car with five pieces of plastic that combine to make a nozzle, and no instructions. Eventually the can is empty, and I put it back in the trunk. Now the oil. Grab the oil from inside, loop the pepper spray around my wrist, and turn on the flashlight to pop the hood. There's STILL residual heat coming from the engine. I put the hood all the way up and open the screw-top thing for the oil. No funnel, just gotta pour carefully. Empty the whole quart, hope it's enough to get home safe. Sudden gust of wind, the hood falls on me. Pissed off, I open it back up and curse, putting the screw-top thing back in place. Close the empty bottle of oil and throw it in the cab. I'm so done. Get back in my car. Almost out of gas. Drive down to the shitty gas station and get more gas, after an unpleasant encounter with the clerk. Hope that three gallons is enough to get home because now I'm, like, a dollar short for that car payment. Vaugely hoping that it'll wait until midnight when I get paid. Get back on the highway, phone plugged in and gps open. A few miles down, the cab is hot again. Ac/heat still off. Obviously it wasn't just the oil. I crack the windows to get rid of the heat and smoke smell. Stop at an autozone, they're about to close. I get some engine coolant that my car says it's out of. REALLY short for that car payment now. Sit outside as the nice autozone worker looks at my car and shows me where to put the coolant, and instructs me to wait AT LEAST an hour and a half after turning off the car before adding it. Tells me that it might not be what is causing the heat and smoke smell, though, just help with the overheating engine. I sit on the curb looking at my car with the hood up as the nice autozone people (who know me -and my car year make & model- by sight when I walk in the store these days. Honestly, after the sixth trip in Febuary, I got a rewards card because why the fuck not) close up for the night around me. One on them comes up to me and asks if I'm waiting to add the coolant. I honestly reply that I'm just debating drinking the coolant instead. I feel bad when he looks a bit upset. He's always so nice. I get up, decide I might as well go home and add the coolant in the morning. Head home following the gps. Drive for fifteen minutes before I notice I'm passing the SAME AUTOZONE and heading the opposite direction this time. Am pissed and woreed about gas. Finally get home, leave my shit in the car, and head inside. Check my phone. It's fucking 11. I'm so fucking done. My ankle fucking hurts. My car's still fucked up and I'm still broke. I check my bank account and see the car payment hasn't gone through yet. Hopefully it'll wait until tomorrow when I get paid. Force myself to eat a few bites of food becore going to bed.

In the morning I wake up early. Check my account, and sometime between when I got home and when I got paid, my car payment bounced. $25 return fee. Fml. Almost get into a wreck. Car's still blowing hot air with a hint of smoke. I'm late for work somehow. Life sucks. I tell my coworker I don't want to drive her there again. She gets pissed. My ankle throbs. This is my week.

So, like. Hope this was entertaining? Idk. Half wanted to vent, half wanting to see if anyone else knows WHAT THE FUCK those street markings are supposed to mean. They're too uniform to not be deliberate!

[judeonthemove]

Livin' La Vida Locomotive

I'm not sure why I expected Ecuador to be a bit less developed than Peru, but I did and it isn't. The niceness of Baños wasn't an anomaly, which has been handy considering we'd discussed treating this month as more of a holiday. For our wedding anniversary we treated each other to some time apart and I went off to investigate the eponymous thermal baths of Baños. I jest of course, but the longest we've been out of each other's sight in nine months was just under four hours when I climbed Sydney Harbour Bridge. This is not natural by anyone's standards.

For those of you who've had the pleasure of visiting the Thermae Spa in Bath, you need to clear your mind of that image. Baños baths are an altogether more basic proposition of four outdoor pools: one clear and cold, and three murky ones at the Goldiloocks temperatures of tepid, hot and cauldron. The hot water comes courtesy of the nearby volcano Tungurahua, while the cold water arrives direct from the waterfall above. $3 gets you an entry ticket and compulsory natty pink swim hat, but no instructions. I stared cluelessly at the watery chaos for a minute, a symphony of concrete cancer and trip hazards, before throwing my things in a crate and finding what seemed to be the right place to leave them. I also stared at the hole on the lower level, empty save for a woman with a broom. One of the pools was closed, but which one? Getting to work with the remaining three I soon rejected the tepid pool as it was essentially children soup. I'd been looking forward to the challenge of the cauldron, but of course it was that one that was closed. That left me with cold and hot, so I concentrated on maximising the difference. In addition to the cold pool were a set of cascade showers fed from a pipe inserted into the waterfall. Most of the locals were avoiding the cold water completely, or tricking each other into standing under it and laughing at the screams. As the only gringo woman in the place I was pretty conspicuous as the person who actually seemed to enjoy the freezing inundation. After a couple of hours I was fully pruned up and couldn't justify waiting another two hours for the super hot pool to fill. I squelched back in the drizzle to make myself presentable.

We had a look at the museum attached to the cathedral, which featured a great display of pre-Colombian pieces, some unbrilliant art, the extensive wardrobe of the local Virgen figurine, and a hilariously creepy room full of taxidermy, religious art, toy vehicles and typewriters. I never need to see the stations of the cross juxtaposed with poorly stuffed pumas ever again. In keeping with the Alpine flavour of the area, we went for dinner at a Swiss restaurant, where I promptly mixed up stroganoff and goulash and ordered the wrong dinner. What a numpty.

Another emerging feature of Ecuador has been the predictable and efficient bus system. Everything's clearly marked and they leave on time. Most of the long distance buses, regardless of the operator, cost about $1-1.5 per hour so you can have a reasonable guess as to when you're going to arrive. With Ecuador being a compact gem of a country, there weren't going to be any arduous legs. Two or three hours up the road was Riobamba. We were due to stay a couple of nights in order to play on the restored train line. What our guidebook failed to mention was that since it was published, they've changed the schedules and the daily train now runs from a town two hours further away. Whoops. We had no trouble entertaining ourselves in Riobamba and had a well timed visit to the city museum and gallery, while an orchestra rehearsed below. Having not heard any orchestral music since Australia, the sound brought a grin to my face and a tear to my eye. The snowy peak of volcano Chimborazo emerged from its cloud shrouds to loom in proprietary fashion over the city. Back at our hostal, the owners' confident small daughter assailed us with an incomprehensible monologue and barrage of questions and/or instructions that we were incapable of responding to. Bored of rearranging piles of unread Gideon bibles among the pot plants and fed up with my refusal to biro in them on command, she hid our room key and hit us both on the head with a stick. Highly entertaining but nevertheless a great reminder of why we don't have kids.

Alausi is a little town with a big claim to railway fame. Halfway down the newly restored Quito to Guayaquil line, it sits above La Nariz del Diablo (The Devil's Nose). I'm very partial to an epic train journey, and what this lacked in length it certainly made up for in engineering and sheer bloody-mindedness. Around two thousand men died to create 12kms of switchback track, descending an 800m rock face. We arrived in town and were most joyful to find that the train tracks ran up the middle of the street we were staying on. A couple of hours later and we were ensconced in a classic wooden carriage, slowly making our way down a cliff. My camera chose this moment to start malfunctioning with a blank screen, leaving me pressing the button and hoping for the best. As this is basically the extent of my photographic skill anyway, it didn't make a great deal of difference to the results. At the bottom was a little station with retail opportunities and a couple of horses and llamas to be used as photo props. The horses looked very much over it, but the llamas had some spirit left and concentrated on being noncompliant. We hid from the souvenir frenzy, but I got drawn in when the traditional dance display took a turn for the interactive. James stayed safely on the side-lines, in charge of incriminating pictures. Back in Alausi we checked into our lodgings and discovered that even the glowing reviews had not prepared us for how nice a hostal it was. Brand new contemporary styling, spotlessly clean, delicious breakfast, and with a massive comfy bed. I immediately declared that I was to be transported around Ecuador in said bed from then on, and it was with some regret that we moved on after one night. Rough calculations told us we had time to get to everywhere we wanted to see, but only if we kept rolling.

The route to the city of Cuenca assailed us with more handsome scenery than is seemly, scrolling down in scale through Alpine, Scottish Highlands, and Lake District. In a clear contrast to previous countries we've visited, there don't seem to be Inca-style terraces here. No matter how steep, the fields follow the line of the hills and are separated by shrubs or trees. The result is a verdant cornucopia of produce and a very different look to the countryside. The southern city of Cuenca was elegant and cultured, and we'd hoped our hostal with integral bar-restaurant would make for a lively weekend base. The hitch in this otherwise sound plan was the profoundly intrusive noise bleeding into all the bedrooms. We were prepared for the late night music, and indeed made good use of happy hour and the tasty menu on offer. What was less manageable was the 6am pounding rock wake up call. I shambled, incredulous, into the restaurant area to find the source was actually next door. A staff member told me with a shrug that their neighbour did it every day. And he did. Clearly there was some beef going on, resulting in the hostal guests being tortured with a sleep deprivation spit roasting. On the second night we coped by playing our own loud music which worked really well and still couldn’t be heard by the other guests over the general din. There is music everywhere in Ecuador, but the ‘80's and ‘90's pop and rock fetish of the rest of South America is not such a thing here. As such I have had withdrawal symptoms from the tracks we've heard most days since May, and James kindly downloaded Alphaville’s ‘Big In Japan’ to help with my DTs. I invite you to join me in my obsessive earworm: https://youtu.be/tl6u2NASUzU. Five hour sleep window notwithstanding, Cuenca itself lived up to its Unesco hype with beautiful colonial architecture, galleries and museums. A riverside walk took us further out to the suburbs. Cuenca was clearly one of the wealthiest places we'd been in months, as suggested by the number of aesthetic dentists, gyms and plush interior design studios. Strikingly as we left, our bus drove for miles before we saw anything like the simple breeze block and wood homes we've been accustomed to seeing.

Our flying visit to Ecuador's second city, Guayaquil, was achieved thanks to a stunning bus trip up and over the Parque Nacional Cajas. Sat on the continental divide with roads winding up over 4300m the first couple of hours was textbook glaciated landscapes of u-shaped valleys and interconnected lakes. My geography teachers might have despaired at my sixth-form attendance rate, but they did instil an absolute love of this stuff. Pine trees and eucalypts gave way to a tight, spongy carpet of mosses and tough grasses as we ascended into the clouds. With ears popping, our water filter bottles leaking under the pressure strain, and the inevitable altitude cough, I tried to make a mental note to be ginger with my deodorant. Every time we do this I forget, and end up with an unfortunate looking cream explosion in my armpit the first time I dislodge the roller ball. I forgot yet again of course, because travelling turns you into an in-the-moment goldfish brain. A brief stop at the top with the mists rolling and burning off in the ravines below allowed the poor bus a bit of a breather. Heading off again, we must have passed through some magic geography portal as we were straight into lush cloud forest. A great deal of down was followed quite suddenly by dead flat as we proceeded across to the coast. Acre upon acre of cacao, banana and pineapple plantations baked in the sun.

Guayaquil itself was a thriving, sprawling port city and we had one and a half days to get acquainted. We focused our efforts on a park full of iguanas, the expansive riverside promenade, the excellent free museums and galleries, and a pretty hillside neighbourhood topped with a stripy lighthouse. Our cheap as chips flophouse next to a main road was still quieter than the aesthetically pleasing but acoustically offensive hostal we'd had in Cuenca. The modern art gallery had an extensive ethnographic section and we became mesmerised by a documentary about a group of men who sailed from Ecuador to Australia on traditional balsa wood rafts. We sat there for over an hour, prompting a security guard to come looking for their missing in action visitors. When you essentially don't have anywhere to live, there's a risk of being in constant motion. Just sitting in a quiet place, and getting immersed in something can be a real treat. Guayaquil was our gateway to the beach, so off we went again. The scenery may have been unprepossessing barren-looking sand and gravel, but it showcased the quality of the highway. Uniquely among the South American countries we've visited, across Ecuador there are subtle hints of coherent government planning and investment. From the ubiquitous rainbow branding onwards, there is a feeling of continuity despite the radically different terrains of the forest, mountains and coast. The excellent road and bridge system is one of the most obvious indicators of massive infrastructure spending, but it's also there in the schools, healthcare facilities, emergency services provision, free museums and public spaces. It seems to connect the country without homogenising. It feels lovely to visit, and I hope that translates into the experience of actually living here as Ecuador recovers from the financial troubles of the recent past.

The highway wasted no time delivering us to tiny Oloncito. Unlike most of the Pacific coast of South America, Ecuador is blessed with inviting sandy beaches so this was the first opportunity for a sea swim in four months. I say swim, but the water was really more suited to surfers, so jumping around trying not to get knocked flat by waves is probably a more apt description. Our hostal was one of those quirky labours of love, set in a tropical garden with lots of knick-knacks, hammocks, great carpentry, and inventive use of concrete. Unusually, the building we were staying in was complete, but more typically one of the others was a work in progress and another had been left with the classic concrete uprights and sprouting steel reinforcements look. Imagined but never realised upper floors are the quintessential South American building practice. We were the sole guests, which suited us just fine. Down with another cold, I took the opportunity of spending a day with nothing more pressing to do but nap. Suitably rested, we spent the next day walking on the beach, chaperoned by the resident dog Dixie. Like most of the numerous dogs in these parts, Dixie was nominally owned but free to do as he pleased. What pleased Dixie was accompanying guests wherever they went, so he'd been for lunch at a beach cabaña, showed us round Olon, and now came miles up the beach. Dixie busied himself inspecting all the corpses of huge sea birds, puffer fish, and a big turtle. Nervy orange crabs scattered as we approached, flitting into holes in the sand. We turned round as the tide reached the top of the beach, and Dixie spent the return journey accelerating wildly into the surf chasing birds. I don't spend much time with dogs and am not generally a fan, but it was a great pleasure and entertainment to be in Dixie's company. Fully in holiday mode we committed the evening to good food and sangria.

Our nine month travelling anniversary saw us reluctantly crowbarring ourselves out of Oloncito and moving a not too challenging hour up the road to Puerto Lopez. Having found our brick and bamboo hut at the northern end of the tourist town, we alighted upon a seafood restaurant for lunch. Said restaurant had a resident floofy cat and we required little persuasion (read none) to share our laps and food. I have no poker face when it comes to cats anyway, but my desperation for mog company is utterly shameless now. Puerto Lopez was well stocked with felines so there was plenty of chances for a fuss. The sea off Puerto Lopez was well stocked with whales, another fluky bit of timing on our part. The obligatory boaty day trip took us out to sea and for a visit to Isla de la Plata. We'd been given a 100% guarantee of seeing whales, which boded well, but we tried to manage our expectations. An hour off the coast and there were humpback whales everywhere. The helm did a great job of manoeuvring into good positions so we could watch these magnificent creatures sliding through the water. I'm not sure you'd ever tire of whale tail salutes. Moving on, we visited the island for a couple of hours hiking and bird watching for nesting blue-footed boobies and frigate birds. I'm not sure you'd ever tire of the amusement of hearing the word ‘boobies' repeatedly. The birds were entirely unfazed by the visitors admiring their big turquoise feet and fluffy chicks. Turtles had surrounded the boat when we arrived, and afterwards we went round to a bay for snorkelling and general coral and fish wonderment.

Much as it would have been nice to tarry by the sea, we bid our final farewell to the Pacific and embarked on a ten hour, three bus slog into the mountains. Although a long day, it all went very smoothly and we had the entertainment of passing through the marvellously named Jipijapa on the way. It was only over the last couple of hours that we gained altitude, but once the climb began it did not muck about. Sunset found us above the clouds, like a duvet of pink candy floss, before the bus picked its way across to Zumbahua in the dark. Chucked off on the highway, we zig-zagged down into the almost deserted town and found a bed for the night on the square. Finding any tea was a little tricky as the only clearly advertised restaurant wasn't serving. Next door, in what looked like someone's tiny front room were four tables and a lady serving a great value set menu. Starving, we gratefully dug into the soup, chicken and refreshing chicha morada (purple corn drink) before heading to bed. Morning revealed Zumbahua to be no more busy by day, but we found a corner cafe where another lovely indigenous lady conjured up everything she had on offer for breakfast: pastries, chicken and rice, boiled eggs, juice, tea and coffee. It was a good job she did, as it would be twelve hours before we had anything else.

Zumbahua sits on what is known as the Quilotoa Loop, a multi-day Andean hiking route. Quilotoa itself is a volcano and while we were too time strapped for the full loop, we were keen to visit there. Waddling away from breakfast we caught a lift up the road. Quilotoa village appeared to have had a very recent and very comprehensive redevelopment, resulting in something of a The Prisoner does Middle Earth vibe. There was little going on, which served to heighten the undeniable presence of the rim. Picking our way in slightly the wrong direction through a stony car park and building site, we found the main viewing area. It was, exactly as advertised yet still difficult to believe, a ruddy great volcano crater lake. So we stood there admiring it, both starting to wonder what else we were going to do with our day. Well there was a path...and maybe we could walk round the rim for a bit...and well we're at least a third of the way round now and that high bit over there looks just about manageable...

Seven hours later we were chasing the sunset back into Quilotoa, James just about still with a spring in his step, and I with legs of jelly and lead. Sometimes you really question your own sanity. Our circumnavigation had been quite a scramble round the narrow ridge, on a path primarily featuring powdered granite. Asthma plus my latest cold did me no favours whatever, and we realised part way round that this was the highest elevation yet that we’d done vigorous exercise at. The high bit reliably informed us it was 3930m, which I appreciated from my position sprawled on the ground under the sign. You certainly value your views when you've worked for them. Vast rolling mountain landscape surrounded us, striped with fields and rent with canyons. Vibrant flowers, grasses and heather-like shrubs softened the vertiginous drops on both sides. Intermittent clouds behaved themselves but painted the lake a steely emerald. Pine and the woody scent of burned stubble filled the air around the crunchy path. Given that my dodgy knees make me less mountain goat and more Professor Yaffle on slopes, it wasn't the most elegant or proficient descent. Content that we had done the volcano justice, we negotiated a lift back to Zumbahua, squished in the front seat of a pickup. Evidently, Tuesday nights in Zumbahua are even quieter than Mondays, so we had to content ourselves with a beer, then crisps and chocolate for dinner, from one of the very local local shops.

A chilly, sunny day greeted us as we exited our guesthouse the next morning. A sheep trotted across the deserted square. We eschewed the chance of fried fish for breakfast and went straight up to the highway to wait for the bus. The bus was already there so it all proved mightily efficient. A couple more hours of gorgeous mountain scenes, with occasional llama spottings and a good workout for the brakes, and we were down in Latacunga. There was no particular reason for us to visit this city near Cotapaxi volcano, but it seemed like a sensible stop on route to the north. We found somewhere to stay and were pleasantly surprised to be overlooking the main square. The rest of the day involved eating and TV, which was just what was required. Evening entertainment came courtesy of an aerobics flashmob in the square, and the sight of a group of nuns enjoying a night out at the pizzeria, sitting below a large poster of the Vatican.

We bid farewell to Latacunga and set off for Mindo, a journey involving a bus to Quito, traversing the length of the capital from southern to northern bus terminals, and then another bus. Cloud cover blocked the potential view of Cotapaxi as we sped through the self-explanatory Volcano Alley. Quito snuck up quickly, but due to it's position in a twisty valley, there was no big reveal moment. The southern bus terminal was all gleaming airport-style modernity as we transited through to one of the cross-city bendy buses. Warnings about crowding and theft risk came to naught and we made it two thirds of the way up town before being turfed off and directed to another stop on a different line. Arriving at the northern terminal we needed, we were feeling pretty smug about being in time for the one o'clock bus to Mindo. The lady selling tickets, however, was not so confident. Our transactional Spanish has developed to the point where we can ask for things, which is fine as long as those things are available and the person doesn't really have to say anything to us in response. This was not one of those times. The one o'clock wasn't going to happen, but we had no idea why. Baffled by my blank face, the woman borrowed my phrasebook and managed “the way is closed”. This wasn't particularly enlightening so I gave up and had a grumpy, helpless sit down. James successfully procured tickets for the four o'clock and we sat for three and a half hours, contemplating the meaning of her gnomic proclamation. Later, sitting in traffic so bad that the driver turned off the engine and got out of the bus, we had some idea of what she might have referred to. As we were just five hundred metres short of the equator, James posited that there had probably been a pile-up caused as all the vehicles turned the right way up for the northern hemisphere. We never did figure it out, but the road cleared, we took our latitude screenshots and the bus clambered off into the cloud forest in the failing light. It would have been a beautiful journey...on the one o'clock bus. Four hours later than expected, and after James narrowly avoided starting a barney with a nun as we tried to get off the bus, a nice cold beer was the only way to say hello to Mindo.

The morning brought hummingbirds and a large group of young Americans to our hostal. There's nothing like vocal fry grating around a hammock attic to cut through a lie-in. The hummingbirds however, were delightful, flitting and chirruping around. In the light of day, Mindo was revealed as a pretty little hippy town sitting in a bowl of forested hills. With only one road out, all other paved thoroughfares ended abruptly in trees, and were liberally decorated with snoozing dogs. We had a nice lazy day pottering around and avoiding the inevitable cloud forest rain. When choosing our accommodation we’d narrowed it down to two, both the same sort of price, and both with resident cats mentioned in the reviews (I told you it was bad), but plumped for the one with the great chill out area. The cat, a spirited little ginger, appeared when it rained and stood on my shoulders for a few minutes when I picked it up. The hostal owners didn't know what its name was or even if it had one, so we really weren't sure who had adopted who. We had vowed to be more active the next day, so set off in a cab up the mountain to the tarabita cable car. The cable car involved an open cage powered by a car engine. This led into a series of gorges full of prehistoric-looking plants, and waterfalls where you were encouraged to swim. An hour of steep forest paths later and we were at the top of a flight of waterfalls. James waited patiently as I insisted in swimming in each one on the way down. I became more soggy, dishevelled and excitable, until we ran out of waterfalls and hiked up to the cable car and back down the mountain. Needing to secure bus tickets for the next day, we went back via the high street, which involved passing the other hostal we'd considered. Surely we wouldn't happen upon Felipe, cat of Booking.com review fame. Of course we would! Felipe turned out to be a super-sociable ginger who fairly demanded a through belly rub. Mindo was full of cats, including at one of the general stores where we spied one nestled among the bananas. After a thorough shower, Saturday night proceeded in pizza and cocktails fashion.

Despite the excellent distracting cat action, we had managed to procure bus tickets, so it was off to Otavalo via the bus stations of northern Quito. Sunday traffic made this pleasingly straightforward and we were quickly through the city and heading north across the equator again. The seemingly brand new highway entered a huge, complicated valley which had been carved up and sprayed with more concrete than I've ever seen. The engineering involved was both shocking and impressive. We wound through the crumbly, cactus strewn mountains, chased by angry clouds and beat the rain to Otavalo. And here we are, in a third floor corner room with full on volcano panorama view. We've seen and done so much in Ecuador that it's exhausting just trying to remember it all. Only two weeks left now. We've gotta keep on keepin’ on!