#shadows: *mention having a cookout*

[cod-dump]

Shadow 28: Commander! A few of us are having a barbeque, wanna join?

Graves, immediately running put of his office: I hope you boys prepared ‘cause Imma eat the whole damn pig!

Nik & Price: *were literally in the middle of seducing Graves*

Nik: … he’s never ran like that from me before…

Price: Guess he loves a good barbeque

Nik, quietly: He ran

[ssahotstuff]

I hope you're having a great day/evening/night! Here's a bit of a head cannon, (with pictures!) for when Hotch has his black GF and meets her family (and stuff). This is a lot lmao, thanks for taking the time to read this 😅I'm sending this to all the black Hotch gworls to get y'all's opinions, I'm curious lol 

So, these kids? Your niece and nephew, twins, you call them double trouble because your sibling is always sending them for the tea. Aaron fell (easily) into the trap and now they're asking him a million questions. He takes them all in stride of course, because no one is coming to save him. 

Now this is your nephew from your older sibling, y'all all met up at the pumpkin patch and Hotch is trying to listen to the audio tour of the farm, but like the twins, he has taken to Hotch and won't leave him alone, but Hotch is happy to oblige him.

Of course we know who this is, but Aaron didn't know that she was your Auntie. (She's your youngest Aunt that kind of slipped in there later, so she's more of an older cousin). Of course he'd heard about her work, but you never mentioned her in that context, until she started working for the BAU. For her, it was like meeting Aaron all over again, she can be kind of forgetful, but he made sure she knew that he was "that white boy" from the cookout. She realizes almost immediately because she roasted him for reneging in spades, but she never put "SSA Aaron Hotchner" as the guy head over heels in love with her niece. It was like two different people.

The influence of being with you is bleeding into his wardrobe and poses, need I say more? (😂)

He asked Quavo for the picture, what more can I say? (I feel like he knows Fight Night word for word, bar for bar.) 

Thoughts, changes, add ons?

JESUS I LOVE THIS SO MUCH THESE PICTURES OF HIM MADE MY DAY

I have a HUGE family (23 brothers and sisters and probably 60 cousins, along with so many nieces and nephews that it isn’t funny) so imagining bringing him to meet all of them at a family reunion would be WILD. The kids have so many questions; why is he wearing a suit for starters? They take turns wearing his sunglasses and they even ask to wear his badge, proudly showing it off as they run around the yard and play 🥹

Aaron is so good at spades and your uncles immediately make him a part of their circle. He sits at the table with them while they keep an eye on the kids playing, drinking bitter scotch and playing spades while you work in the kitchen with your grams and your aunts and older cousins; he’s already a part of the family traditions and they accept him so easily it makes you so happy that they all get along

You and your Aunt Tara basically share a brain. You were her shadow growing up, wanting to be just like her even though you took your own path. You have no clue she and Aaron know each other but she makes sure he knows you’re her favorite niece and he better not hurt you! She’s so protective but she knows Aaron will always take care of you and keep you safe 🥰

The pumpkin patch 😩💕 the boy in the photo reminds me of my nephew Davien, they both have the same smile it made me miss him so much 😭 by the end of the day, he’s riding on Aaron’s shoulders, calling him Uncle Aaron 🥹🥹 he spoils him ALL DAY LONG, buying him souvenirs and snacks any time he bats his eyelashes, which turns Aaron into MUSH! You start making visits a regular occurrence because he’s always asking about Aaron and when he can see him again 💕

It’s no secret that Aaron has good taste but you start buying him clothes just because and soon he adopts your style; you have matching timberland boots and so many matching pairs of sneakers that it isn’t funny(however the first time you surprise him with a pair of Nikes, he almost loses his mind and the price, so he starts ordering you matching pairs so you’re not paying for them) even the people at work are noticing his new change of style, complimenting his colorful polos and the shoes that match. Derek would be like 🤔 the first time he saw him in a pair of exclusive sneakers, maybe some that are retro and cool as hell and super expensive because he didn’t realize Aaron was the type to dress in anything other than a suit and leather shoes.

The picture of him and Quavo made me smile so big. He LOVES Migos, but especially Fight Night. You both sing them so loud in the car, making up your own ad libs, and to no one’s surprise, he has incredible rhythm(because dancing) and you love that you can vibe together on long drives! His playlist is so similar to yours now that you can barely tell them apart.

Also! Back to family gatherings! My family has me cook the majority of the food for every function because I can throw DOWN in the kitchen, but so can Aaron, and when your Grams finds out he made the collared greens this year, she’s hesitant at first but after one bite she’s like “honey you gotta keep him around, he put hot sauce in the greens” and you’re like 🤭 because you taught him the trick but you don’t say anything because it gets him so many more points with your family that you let him take credit 🥰

Also Aaron excusing himself from the card table to help y’all clean up in the kitchen 😘 your auntie talks about what a gentleman he is, how glad she is to see a man helping as he loads the dishwasher, but he’s only doing it because he’s barely seen you all day and he wants to be close to you 😩

I absolutely loved this. Aaron getting to know the family literally gives me butterflies

[luke-o-lophus]

Predicaments (Part 1)

Marc Spector x neighbour! f! Reader

Summary: Set before the events of the show, the series explores Marc in relationships under different, more domestic settings. What would Marc be like in a world where he and Layla didn't work out? A world where he meets his neighbour, and keeps meeting her again and again.

TW: very brief mention of blood. LOTS of fluff.

Marc's current predicament would be something out of the opening scene of a movie. The ones that go You might be wondering how I got here. Marc was seated in a room that wasn't his, the body of a lady draped over his form. A very much alive, sleeping lady. Her head resting on the couch and a leg stretched over his thighs. Her arm had snaked around his form sometime during sleep.

As is always the case in such movies, this too began several months back. Soon after he'd moved into this apartment, he'd met her on the elevator one night. It turned out, she lived two flats down the same corridor, and she offered a polite nod as she unlocked her door.

Wherever it was that she worked, she often seemed to work late. Twice or thrice a week for nearly a month, Marc would cross paths with her. Sometimes at eight o' clock when he's returning from his evening run, sometimes at two in the morning when he's just fulfilled Khonshu's latest demands. Polite nods turned to polite smiles, then chuckles of empathy when her yawn set him off past midnight one day. Marc found himself reciprocating in kind: "just act normal, don't be suspicious".

Then one day, that happened. The shadows under his eyes must have been too prominent, or maybe he looked dirty? She quirked her brow at the look on his face, a nod of thanks for holding the elevator for her. A second later she was pulling out a bar of chocolate and holding it out towards him. Marc blinked, glancing owlishly between the shiny packet and her face. Her face looked open, innocent enough. Nothing about her had set off the alarms yet. She obviously took his hesitation for something else because she pulled out an identical bar from her tote and assured him she had one for herself too. Marc had no choice but to accept, then deftly unwrap it. The elevator dinged as it reached the fourth floor, and he mumbled a small thanks. She nodded vehemently, pointing to her lips to say she didn't want to talk with her mouth full. Somehow, that set off Marc's smile to something more genuine. Her eyes seemed to linger on his face moments longer than usual, then she swallowed and waved good night.

Marc carried two chocolates on him for ten days until he chanced upon her again. He waited till the elevator reached their floor, then offered it to her. She didn't disappear into her flat this time, but lingered in the corridor, striking up a conversation. She told him her name, where she worked. He told her he worked in 'the security business'. She nodded in understanding and didn't probe further. Less than a week later, she had chocolates on her again, a different brand this time.

A month trudged by, and Marc found himself in her flat for the first time. Apparently the suit didn't protect his clothes underneath from the rain. By the time he made his way back home, he was visibly shivering. She took one look up and down his form and declared she was making tea. She didn't want to force him into spending time with her, but she did want to help. Marc glanced doubtfully between his door and hers, and she suppiled a short,"I will brew some for myself anyway." Marc found himself nodding and assuring he'd change into dry clothes and come over. He brought two chocolate bars, the shiny wrappers dotted with stains of dried raindrops.

Tea turned into tea and cookies. First store bought, then her homemade. Marc insisted on doing the dishes when she offered him a plate of a new recipe she'd been trying. She refused to let him do it, saying he should instead come over for a joint cookout if he'd be into that. Marc spent one quiet Saturday afternoon chopping a whole garden of vegetables. He had been skeptic if he were to be honest, he couldn't think of how such a medley of flavours would even work. But it did. Marc nearly gasped in surprise at the first bite, earning a warm chuckle from her. "Told ya!", she said smugly. "I know what I am doing." They set another date a week in the future. How could he say no to casual, no-strings-attached, warm home cooked food?

But they met before that set date. Precisely, earlier today. She wasn't in the elevator, so it was odd for him to find her in the corridor. Usually, the lift takes long enough for one to get into their flat before the next trip reaches. Her turning at his cautious call explained things immediately. Well, a little. She looked sheepish, but her smile was strained. A faint trickle of blood ran from her right knee, and she was favouring her left leg. She saw his gaze zeroing in on that, and quickly supplied,"I fell, there was a pothole"

"Your ankle is sprained", Marc notes the swelling. "You got elastic bandages?" She shakes her head, cowering uncharacteristically under his scrutiny. That's how Marc finds himself in her flat again, his small first-aid pouch in hand. He cleans her scrape with military efficiency, then gets her to prop her leg over his thighs. He's careful with the bandage, fingers weaving around her foot deftly to tighten the fabric just right. She still looks pale and pained when he's pinned the ends, so he lets his fingers wander a bit. Working out the soreness in the flat of her foot, the pull in her calf from the awkward stretch of the fall. He sees her melt, her profuse words of gratitude dissolving into garbles of relief. Marc's lips twitch into a smile, letting the silence hang. Almost too soon, she is fast asleep. Minutes later, her arm gently throws itself across his torso. And Marc finds himself in the incredible predicament. Does he wake her up, or does he let her sleep and stay awake instead?

In the end, Marc chooses neither. Her room is warm and her hold is cozy. Marc shifts slowly and carefully until her head comes to rest against his shoulder, and shuts his own eyes.

[beardedmrbean]

Ah the rumors are true (and these gaming companies coordinate)

https://x.com/xbox/status/1785308276063633588?s=46

I already figured out given last year Xbox revealed Star Wars outlaws and next day we had a gameplay reveal at the Ubi forward

Remember that leak AC red menu I sent? Well that was taken down to copyright, but I think that was a Xbox not a Ubi move.

Because the leak show the build being April third and most press conference game builds are usually a few months old as they are the most stable

So I heard original red would have it reveal in May 31st…hmmm if that still true

May 31st- a press event where we get a pre render cgi trailer, proper Yasuke and Naoe reveal, details, in game screenshots. And title reveal

June 9th- Xbox will have a gameplay demo showing off the capabilities of Xbox (and if Xbox bribed them enough. Ac red will be the first day one ac game on gamepass as the last three ac rpgs on it)

June 10th- a story trailer and “bts” video where they show how yes finally we are going to Japan and their ideas and inspirations for it

With probably the nice explanation why Yasuke was chose for the second playable character

Because people want red to be reveal at Ubisoft forward…but people need to digested Yasuke at first

Like my theory craft on how to use Yasuke in a what if continuation is interesting…but modern writers are not exactly smart.

Also there a fundamental difference between my black teen dad Jrpg idea vs writers who have critical theory plaguing their minds

Not to mention they think having more non whites will bring black people into fantasy games.

When the last time they went to the cookout? The vast majority of casual players only enjoy playing Cod, GTA, tekken and other fighting games, and the occasional license hero game

Okay okay fornite

Like here my pitch

Hey casual black gamers (who barely desire to play Normie games. WHAT I still deal with it) you remember Afro samurai? Well here a game where you play as the weapon bearer Yasuke in this game Assassin Creed Shadows (that is what some people saying the game is going called) where you help a secret ancient order unify Japan. And there more it’s a RPG where you can spend over 100 hours into and explore the beautiful recreation of feudal Japan!

Warning your dumbass might become a pseudo historian and desire more knowledge

(Or you might be interested in more ac games. Hmm here an Egypt one! Now might give you more! HEHEHEHE)

And noting bad wait- okay probably will be 70 dollars…..oh great a season and battle pass!….wdym online only?!

Ubi you now got 5-6 months to reform red market system (most ac game comes out on October or November) because you seen how your own game skulls and bones and SS kills JL flopped

Ugh why I had to be born during the hard times of gaming?

Maybe in May I get more leaks

Also college educated students, people do like organic diversity.

But white people don’t like the demonization of themselves from people who make more money they do in their lifetimes

Seriously what the fuck is the culture in California and New York where it socially acceptable to treat white people like fictional characters

June 10th- a story trailer and “bts” video where they show how yes finally we are going to Japan and their ideas and inspirations for it With probably the nice explanation why Yasuke was chose for the second playable character.

This all was the official timeline then, nice of them to post it, probably gonna be a few more leaks tho

Like my theory craft on how to use Yasuke in a what if continuation is interesting…but modern writers are not exactly smart. Also there a fundamental difference between my black teen dad Jrpg idea vs writers who have critical theory plaguing their minds Not to mention they think having more non whites will bring black people into fantasy games.

They need to stop with all the tokesism crap, even a MC can be a token if it's all just stereotypical nonsense. Then again certain parts of the audience that's all they want.

Gay guys need to be flaming, lesbians are lipstick or mega dyke, Latinos are gardners, and black people are thugs or you're doing it wrong.

If Yasuke breaks into a Undercover Brother type monolouge at some point I would laugh and cry.

When the last time they went to the cookout? The vast majority of casual players only enjoy playing Cod, GTA, tekken and other fighting games, and the occasional license hero game.

Oh I miss the cookouts, had a few friends that would invite me to different ones, damn fine food. Sometimes I acted extra white just to be funny too.

Prev and Warning your dumbass might become a pseudo historian and desire more knowledge (Or you might be interested in more ac games. Hmm here an Egypt one! Now might give you more! HEHEHEHE)

I like it, I also like tricking people into learning, makes things fun and interesting.

And noting bad wait- okay probably will be 70 dollars…..oh great a season and battle pass!….wdym online only?!

Grrrrrr

Ugh why I had to be born during the hard times of gaming? Maybe in May I get more leaks Also college educated students, people do like organic diversity.

There really was a golden age for it, late late 90's till the 10's when things all started to go online, get really good complete games and y you could hit up gameFAQ's if you needed help with something (used to have to know someone who knew or call the Nintendo Power hotline at $1.99 a min if you were stuck.

Think most college educated people like that too, it's just the loud ones that are the issue.

Seriously what the fuck is the culture in California and New York where it socially acceptable to treat white people like fictional characters

Speaking as a Californian let me say, fuck those guys doing that.

this is more like it

[magistralucis]

Moonquake [Snippet]

(Jesus Christ has it been over a year since I last posted any snippet of anything I’m working on??? 😩 Since I’m slowly getting back into my writing, have one from a pet project I began last year. I watched a lot of Tarkovsky last summer and it broke my brain, and what better cure for that than magical realism?

It’s not finished, I work on it tiny bits at a time. It’s a Tillchard. It reflects many real-life events and dynamics, but at the same time, it is so out-of-chronology I’m not sure this matters at all. Also Till might be a bird and Richard a moon wizard. It’s complicated. Have a peek.)

--------------------------------------------------------

"There's a barn burning tonight, down where old man Stefan lives." Till says one cloudy afternoon, and Richard looks up, his hair brushing shadows about his neck. Beneath it an earring glitters. Two mugs of coffee steam quietly on the counter. "You know the field opposite the cemetery gates, the house up that path. They asked if we'd come."

"A barn burning." Richard repeats. Till's gaze is as faraway as his voice. After a moment he stands up, then ties up his hair as he joins Till by the back door. "How's that, then?"

Till shrugs. "It's old. Mouldering. Besides, he's got a bigger one now." Their eyes fall upon the little shed further up the yard: Till's new workshop, humble but lovingly made, their most recent project together. Richard put up the walls, Till put on the roof, and the former had seemed more alive for their labours than he had in a long time. "He must've figured it wasn't worth paying to get it dismantled. And you know you want to keep an eye on anything that burns - maybe have a cookout, too, while everyone's around."

"I do." Then Richard is silent for a long time, thinking. He considers for so long he outlasts the heat of his coffee - as well as Nele's brief visit, bounding into the kitchen and demanding hugs, her hair ribbons coming all loose. It takes some teamwork (and pinky-promises for snacks) for the two men to retie them, after which she runs off again, and by then Richard has made up his mind. "Did you tell him we were coming?"

He hasn't gone out much recently. Till's gaze sparks a little, a revival of hope. "I wanted to leave it to your judgement."

Richard sniffs the air. Sweeter than the usual, and much heavier; it will rain in the night, but no later, when most of the barn will have smouldered down. In the deep snow it's hard to get a fire going at all, whereas in the bone-dry seasons, even a sole stray flame could be a disaster - yes, today's the right time, it'll be a good time. "Then let's all go together. Should we bring anything special, or are meat and drinks fine?"

"Funny you mention that." The spark has becoming a roaring fire, and Till smiles brightly, leaning in to take the other's hand. "Coming from the old man himself, our price of admission is one of your famous cakes... or a six-pack. Whichever's quickest, he said."

"A bag of quark is pretty quick; give me one, two hours."

And so they all go together - including Nele, since the days are still long and light and there will be other children there. Half the village has turned up. People are happy to see them, and especially delighted to see Richard; they all knew he had come back, but not exactly how or why, and the majority haven't even seen him in a long time. Richard takes it well. Till stays close to him all evening, and is glad for the shy happiness in his eyes, fragments of the old Sven he thought he'd lost for good.

Over dessert they finally light up the barn. It goes up in flames politely as only loved worn things do, since it was a damned good barn while it lasted. In the backdrop the village continues to feast: sweetmeats are laid out at table, old man Stefan herds his chickens away, and Nele sits happily over Richard's Käsekuchen and a large glass of milk. A griddle sizzles here, a cheer breaks out there. Above the smoke the night sky glowers vividly, casting a warm glow against friendly faces.

Many of them will not have cause to meet again that year. Gatherings such as these are uncommon these days, and with the recent reunification, they only threaten to grow rarer. With a quiet sigh Richard leans against the fence, contemplating the upturned order of things, when the promised rain comes at last. It falls in a slow mist initially - no different to the smoke above the barn - but then the thick drops come, and it's the tail end of the burning anyway, which wraps the festivities up somewhat. Some make their exit altogether, shouting goodbyes over waved bottles as they leave the gate, and some withdraw indoors with all the drinks and the cooking-things. Soon there is no one left but a select few, smokers mostly, and Till looking for Richard looking for a purpose.

"Scholle? Scholle, shall we go?"

Richard stands before the fence separating barn from field. Gazes. Past the lens of rain the flames lick in strange directions. Twenty-eight steps lie between himself and the fire, twenty-eight days since his revelation, a full moon since his life was inverted in the Schweriner See.

"... Scholle?"

He concentrates, and for the second time ever, he receives a response.

[downtoearthmarkets]

The long Labor Day holiday weekend is widely considered to be the unofficial end of summer by many Americans. By early September there are already subtle seasonal changes afoot – an ochre tinge to the sun’s rays, a shortening of days and lengthening of shadows, and a slight autumnal chill hanging in the morning air. Not to mention that Labor Day weekend signals the start of a new school year for many kids, parents, teachers and staff. So why not usher summer out in style with one last “cookout” hurrah? Here are a few ideas to help you make it a 2022 Labor Day commemoration for the books. Appetizer: Salsa Fresca A big bowl of fresh, homemade salsa makes a great opening act for any gathering or celebration. There is a tomato bounty available at your local farmers market right now, with tomatoes of all kinds remaining at their peak ripeness for the next several weeks – perfect for using in salsa fresca. The consistency of salsa you desire will largely be determined by the type of tomatoes you use in your recipe. For a thicker, less watery salsa, strain any juicy tomatoes before adding them to the mix. Of course, feel free to scale the amount of onion, cilantro and jalapeno you include to curate for different taste preferences. For something a little different, try making a salsa verde using tomatillos -- small, green husk-covered tomatoes that are native to Mexico and easy to find at farmstalls in September. Main Course: Shish Kebabs Instead of flipping the same old burgers and dogs on the grill, elevate your typical Labor Day cookout routine with a shish kebab bonanza! The term shish kebab has an interesting etymological origin as it is an anglicization of the Turkish words ‘şiş’, signifying sword or skewer, and ‘kebap’ meaning ‘roasted meat dish’. A traditional shish kebab is made from skewered and grilled cubes of lamb. However, kebabs offer a wonderful outlet through which to express your creative bbq’ing skills, so there really is no limit to what ingredient combos you can put together. Try alternating cubes of marinated chicken, shrimp, beef or lamb with a variety of summer vegetables including squash, red and yellow bell pepper, tomato, mushroom and onion. Here are a few other pro tips when it comes to skewer grilling:

Use wooden skewers instead of metal to avoid over-cooking the meat.

Soak wooden skewers in water for at least one hour before using them.

Use double skewers to gain better control when turning kebabs over the grill.

Keep some space between the pieces of meat to help them cook more evenly.

Paint the kebabs with the extra marinade as they cook to add more flavor.

Dessert: Grilled Peaches Don’t extinguish those charcoals just yet! Keep the flames a-lickin’, as grilled peaches make for a delicious, healthy and easy-to-prep dessert. Try to select ripe peaches at the market or ripen them on the kitchen counter before grilling. If possible, choose “freestone” peaches whose pits are easier to remove than the “clingstone” variety. If you’re having difficulty removing the pits, cut the peaches across their middle and twist to separate the two halves. Liberally brush the inside of the peaches with a mix of melted butter, brown sugar or honey, and cinnamon (or any other warm spices such as ginger, nutmeg and cardamom), and grill until tender. You can opt to top the finished product with a scoop of vanilla ice cream or dollop of whipped cream before serving! Nectarines, plums and apricots can also be prepared in the same way. Beverage: Inventive Cocktails Move beyond beer and pick up a few bottles of locally produced spirits, fresh produce, condiments and herbs at the farmers market to let your inner mixologist burst forth this Labor Day weekend. Adding attractive garnish to any mixed drink, whether it be alcoholic or not, will always make it taste better simply because it looks more inviting, while adding a soupçon of nutritional value to your beverage of choice. Muddle a handful of fresh mint into your mojito, plop a skewer of stuffed olives, dill pickle spear and crunchy stick of celery into your Bloody Mary, add a sprig of thyme to your whisky sour, or peel some slices of cool cucumber into your gin & tonic. Have fun with it and don’t forget to take pics of your cocktail creations to share. Cheers to you all while wishing you a delicious, relaxing and safe Labor Day weekend!

[aspenforest732]

Bello Licentiae Chapter 20: Curiosities

Summary:

tw: trauma, ptsd, flashback, gang mentions, court proceedings, child abuse mentions, torture, psychological abuse A little fanart at the end 'text' JSL Text thoughts

The next day, Mad Banquet set out for Curio, a shop nestled in the midst of cafés and boutiques that comprised the historic district of Musutafu. Inside hung a variety of artworks and handmade knickknacks, and deeper in the shop lay crystals, stones, and a variety of paraphernalia for Christianity, Shinto, Buddhism, and what Akira assumed was Pagan. Out back, a small group of people dressed in autumnal colors stood around a cookout and drank what almost looked like honey.

"Excellent, you've arrived," Fumikage made his way over as Dark Shadow emerged to say hi to the group. He led them to where covered dishes spread across one of the tables and a few of the older ladies sat.

"Ah, are these your friends? Pleasure to meet you," an elderly woman wearing a flowing dress with drooping sleeves smiled at them. "My name's Den Ban, she/her. I lead our little group for celebrations. If you have any questions, please feel free to ask me or any of our members."

The group bowed in respect, and Fumikage introduced them to the other members of the community. Most seemed to follow different paths, although one of his moms also practiced death work. Some followed non-pagan religions in addition to their path, and others worked with deities from a few cultures. Overall, it was a pretty casual affair centered around celebrating the turning of the year, community, and the harvest. They were invited back for the group's Samhain ritual that was scheduled for October 30th so people could still go to costume parties.

"It still hasn't disappeared?" Yamada asked as the pair paused for water.

Akira tapped their crutch twice and rested both against one of the tables on the tea room's patio. The only changes they'd picked up on so far with Midoriya was that the clones took more energy to maintain the further away they were and didn't last as long. Eri had a doctor's appointment, so Yamada volunteered to be their escort off campus.

Since there wasn't much Akira could do to respond without text messages, Yamada shared stories of mostly the rooftop squad in his days at U.A. Akira snorted at the idea of Aizawa thinking he was terrible with kids, and it was fascinating to hear how Oboro was before All for One. After Akira warped their clone again, the pair walked for a few minutes past the tea shop when they felt it drop. They immediately stopped and sent a quick text to Midoriya with their coordinates including elevation.

"While we're out, do you need anything in town?" Yamada asked, eyes sparkling.

' What did you have in mind? ' Akira huffed, knowing that look.

Yamada grinned and launched into how winter was fast approaching, they didn't let the couple get them much last time, and blankets would be good. Akira sighed in exasperation, knowing from the past few months with the couple he mostly just wanted to spend time with them. Akira froze as he mentioned their upcoming birthday, memories crashing into them at the reminder. Yamada stopped a moment later, turning to them in concern.

"Mori, are you okay?" Yamada asked softly, crouching in front and a little to the side.

Akira's breath caught before they shook the memory back. Come on, you know him. After a steadying breath, they signed, ' I don't celebrate my birthday. Please don't bring it up. '

"Okay, little listener," Yamada said with a hesitant smile. "Would you like me to tell anyone else so they know to avoid it?"

After a moment's hesitation, they nodded. ' Sleepy Cat. ' Akira still went with Yamada to the small shopping center servicing this outer section of Musutafu. He did talk them into some admittedly practical long johns and grabbed a pair of fuzzy cat socks they looked at a little too long. It still felt weird that Yamada and Aizawa didn't want anything in return, but they were gradually warming up to the idea.

On Tuesday, Mad Banquet made sure Shoto knew they were available after his testimony, and Akira promised to check in after their patrol. Dabi's testimony was slated for the last slot on Thursday, although the recording should be enough. Fragments left of the gangs under Shie Hassaiki were still a concern in Esuha, comprising most of the blue-collar crimes.

Akira settled in front of the tv in the common area as the news switched to live at the courthouse. The defense had moved to dismiss Dabi's evidence and testimony if he didn't come in person to prove his identity, so the media was of course trying to get a picture of the elusive Toya. With Aizawa escorting him, he managed to avoid showing his face until they were almost at the door and an especially bold vulture got just the right angle.

Akira sighed as a plate smashed and the small talk stopped. They turned to the rest of their classmates in various states of shock and signed while Koji translated, ' I'm sure you have questions. One at a time. '

"Dabi is Toya?" Midoriya asked almost to himself. "That makes so much sense..." he started muttering up a storm.

' Yes, although his preferred name is Dabi, ' Akira clarified.

"You've been living with a villain?" Kirishima asked, hardening and unhardening in spots reflexively.

' On a technicality, yes, he's an informant. '

"Wait, did you know about this?" Mina turned to Mad Banquet and Katsuki in confusion and hurt.

' I only told them what I needed to based on their own observations and unfortunate circumstances, ' Akira quickly corrected. The others didn't deserve the suspicion they brought on themself.

"Were you ever going to tell us? Does Aizawa know?" Sato asked, anger and uncertainty seeping through.

Akira shifted slightly away and thought about it for a moment. ' No, I wasn't going to tell you unless I had to. Yes, Eraser knows. '

Yaoyorozu frowned, looking over Akira like seeing them for the first time. "Why were you living with a villain when you're an Inoue?"

Don't react. Don't react. Keep them safe . Akira carefully kept their expression neutral as anger boiled up at the name. ' I haven't been an Inoue in years. '

"Were they like Endeavor, ribbit?" Tsu asked.

' No. Any more questions about Wildfire or can I go? ' Akira stiffly signed. No one seemed convinced, but only Ida started to say something. Midoriya quickly jostled his arm, stopping him with a look. Akira retreated to their room, only stopping briefly and grabbing a blanket before heading back to the elevator to the roof. They shot off a text to Aizawa as they opened the door. Akira pulled the blanket tighter around their shoulders against the biting wind.

The cold helped keep them in the present, although after a couple hours, they had to stiffly get to their feet and head back inside as their chronic pain flared. A pigeon glided back down to Koji's balcony, making a small smile slip onto Akira's face. It turned into a full grin as they saw the news and sent congrats to Shoto and Dabi. Messages flooded in from Blue Fang members, checking in on the brothers and Akira with how close to home the trial hit.

' Gentler, ' Akira demonstrated rubbing along Eri's scars again while Yamada interpreted. ' You should be able to feel the movement of your fingers on your skin but not uncomfortably so. '

Eri frowned, trying again before realization crossed her face. "Like this?"

Akira nodded with a sad smile, ' Exactly! ' They helped her with a few more grounding techniques they'd found helpful during derealization episodes before their deconstruction scars faded. The burning tearing she felt was different from the burning vibrations Akira experienced, but they suspected that was just the different ways deconstruction-construction quirks manifested.

Akira, Togata and Hitoshi played with Eri for a bit longer before she was off to nap time. Togata frowned thoughtfully once she was out of earshot and mused, "The others affected by Overhaul didn't have lingering pain, and from what Sir has explained, that seems to be the norm."

' Oh it is, ' Akira clarified as Hitoshi glanced at them. ' The first thing you learn before you can use your quirk on people is how to construct with little to no pain. With their experience, it's absolutely intentional to leave the victim with pain around the scar. '

"Hey, Mori?" Midoriya shuffled over, fidgeting and glancing over his shoulder as the rest of class filtered out.

Curiosity piqued, Akira signed for Mad Banquet to go ahead to the changing room. He'd been full of nervous energy the whole day, and they couldn't see what set him off. ' Can I help you with something? '

"You've been hanging out with Aoyama for a bit, right?" Akira slowly nodded. "Does he ever... just give you cheese? Like out of nowhere?"

Akira laughed and nodded, grateful it wasn't anything serious for once. ' Yeah, I think it's his way of trying to make friends? Sparkles really likes cheese, and I think it's like Blank sharing their space. '

Midoriya sagged in relief and chuckled, "Oh thank kami. I was so confused and then he left cheese on my balcony last night, and...sorry, I'm rambling again. Thanks."

In Heroics, Akira focused on reaction time and doing different things with different hierarchy levels of clones. Progress felt slow compared to what most other students were already capable of, and Akira kept having to remind themself that they started much later than the others.

"We're going to have a school festival," Aizawa announced. As he went on to explain the importance of the event for business, gen ed, and support course students, and Akira bit back a chuckle as he "fell asleep." It seemed most of the class still hadn't caught on that he never let his guard down that much in the classroom.

Everyone had drastically different ideas, making Akira increasingly confused about what the festival was even supposed to involve. A quick search on the forums mostly turned up results for the other courses' presentations. By the end of homeroom, the list of options was a conflicting mess, and Aizawa threatened the class with a public lecture if they didn't figure it out by the next day.

As they were getting ready for patrol with Kirishima and Taishiro, Akira checked the class group chat and looked up at Kirishima confused. ' Was a concert one of the options? '

"Huh?" Kirishima finished attaching one of his shoulder cogs. After checking the chat, he laughed, "I don't think so? But it does sound pretty manly. Mina was showing off her dance moves earlier, and Jiro practically had a music store in her room."

"That sounds like fun, kiddos!" Taishiro beamed as he waited for them to finish getting ready. "It's too bad the festival's closed to the public this year; I'd love to see you in person."

' We can probably get it recorded if you want, ' Akira offered. Nezu had eyes everywhere.

"That would be great!" Taishiro grinned and swept Kirishima into a hug, offering an arm for Akira as well.

After a brief hesitation, they thought fuck it and stepped into the embrace. Surprised at the warmth, Akira relaxed further into his leg, grounding themself in the softness of the fabric and the smell of warm lavender to remind themself who they were with. All too soon, Kirishima pulled away, and Akira followed suit.

Mortis cringed back as people kept wishing them a happy birthday, forcing a pleasant smile on their face as they took the sweets and extra servings thrust upon them. Thankfully, Fat Gum caught on when their façade presumably cracked enough after the first several gifts and started intercepting the well-meaning civilians. Red Riot grew increasingly confused at their discomfort but tried to keep himself between them and the crowds. The occasional graffiti and murals they were able to ignore before now loomed over them, reds turning to blood and odd angles turning into ears and eyes.

About halfway through patrol, Mortis slipped into an alley to get away from the pressure while Fat Gum and Red Riot talked with a store owner. Leaning against the wall, they took a few steadying breaths while tuning the city out for precious moments.

A door slammed open as they heard club music pour out from where there had been no indication of such a place. Mortis went on high alert as they looked around and saw a drunk person stumble out, bottle in hand. Curious, they moved at the edge of his senses, counting on his lack of awareness to check through the door and see a dive bar through the open doorway. Before the door could swing back closed, Mortis sent a quick text to Fat Gum with their location and a pop-up or hidden club.

Slipping inside, Mortis winced at the pulsing bass and mass of people on the dance floor and the various patrons they wove through. They recognized a few from wanted posters of varying severity and others from the gangs Fat Gum worked with. No one had noticed them so far due to their height, but Mortis knew they couldn't rely on that for long.

The point was proven as they recognized an underground hero at the same time as she spotted them, her eyes widening for a moment before she signed ' Follow. '

Mortis cautiously followed Jinx to a quieter area, steering clear of her quirk's radius. ' Sorry if I'm intruding on something, I wasn't aware this place existed. '

' You're the big man's new intern, right? ' Jinx asked, respecting the distance and keeping an eye out towards the patrons. ' He's probably worried about you. This place has signal blockers. '

Mortis winced but nodded as they realized this was more than just a club. ' Does he know about this? '

Jinx chuckled humorlessly and tensed. Her eyes tracked one of the patrons Mortis had clocked earlier as he headed towards one of the private rooms. ' No, tell him Jinx sent you off and he can explain what this is. I have work. '

Mortis inclined their head and quickly signed before she stepped away, ' I'm aware. Thanks for your time. ' They slipped back through the crowds, narrowly avoiding the gaze of one of the bartenders before slipping back out. Their phone immediately started buzzing and dinging constantly as they quickly turned the sound off, grateful the alley was empty at the moment. They quickly activated their coms and said, "I'm back and safe. Same location."

"What the hell happened?" Fat Gum immediately replied, concern dripping from his voice.

Mortis exited the alley as they heard him approach and replied, ' Info Hub. Jinx sent me off. '

Understanding and fond exasperation passed over Fat Gum's face as Mortis deactivated their transmission of coms. Red Riot looked between them confused and started to ask a question when Fat Gum said, "I'll explain later, Red Riot. Of course you would stumble into one when Jinx is involved."

Mortis chuckled at the irony and turned to Red Riot. ' Jinx is an underground hero who has a constant aura of bad luck around her. She's learned to work with it, but it has given her a bit of a reputation. '

Eventually, they returned to the agency, and Taishiro walked Akira through the paperwork of unintentional interference with an information hub while explaining what they were to Kirishima. They were excellent tools for intel gathering and underground heroes due to being filled with underworld denizens. Info Hubs were viewed as safe spaces for anyone with information or money as long as they didn't bring twilights and limelights into the space and didn't make active moves against members in the hub. Information gained from the hub could be used outside at the risk of the individual. The hubs always had signal blockers to enforce the isolation and were usually nigh impossible to get into without a connection or leak.

Since Jinx was an underground hero, the best way to contact her was through one of her many dead drop locations spread throughout her territory and a little beyond. As Akira's mentor, Taishiro would be making the drop, but Akira did agree to give their number in case any complications arose from their presence.

Back at the dorms, there was a sign-up sheet on the wall with various roles and instructions for the work study students to write their name next to whatever role they felt comfortable with doing or learning. After a moment, Akira wrote their name under Keys, Dancer, and Interpreter while Kirishima added himself under Singer and Special Effects.

Before they fell asleep, a message came through from Dabi. "Doctor wants Hand Job to prove himself. We'll be off grid for a while."

Notes:

I work with Loki, Artemis, Apollo, an St Cyprian. Curio is inspired by a shop I found while exploring my neighborhood back when I first moved here. The grounding Akira shows Eri how to do is actually how I end particularly stubborn voluntary hyperphantasia episodes. Sometimes works on involuntary, but depends on the source. The timeline on the villain arc is really weird so figured I'd just go ahead and start it Is the art comment too weird? I couldn't figure out a better spot to put it and didn't want it to just suddenly be a thing in Libertias aut Mortis.

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[halogalopaghost]

The Eyes

Do not copy this story to other sites or posts. References may be used with proper citation to this post. This story is my intellectual property and I will not tolerate copying or plagiarism of any form.

I have lived with the eyes in the dark for as long as I can remember.

I first saw them during a family fourth of July cookout, with sparklers and little fountains and firecrackers after sunset. They hung beneath the trees where my parents’ lawn met the cool, dark woods. I should have been scared, like any other child would have been, but all I remember is how transfixed I was by the glowing gaze.

The sparkler in my hand burnt out as I stared at them. It wasn't until my mother put a new one in my hand that I looked away. She patted me on the head and turned back to the party. I turned back to the eyes.

They hadn’t moved. They still floated there in the darkness, not too far from the ground. I took a careful step closer. They didn’t move. I blinked, and they blinked too, long and slow.

Someone called me away, and that’s all I remember. I was four years old.

My father loves telling the story of my ‘imaginary friend’. He remembers watching me, five years old, pressing my cheek to the cold windowpane to wish the eyes goodnight. They watched through my bedroom window from the other side of the gravel driveway. He didn’t see the eyes, but I sure did. He tried to explain them away as a reflection on the window, or animal eyes in the darkness. He tried to explain it as a lot of things, but I never bought it. The gaze wasn’t human or animal or anything else--it was something unique, and mine.

He always stops the story there, as if I stopped seeing them. What he does not tell my husband, my children, my nieces and nephews, is that they never stopped watching me. He doesn’t include the shrink they took me to when I was seven and wouldn’t stop talking about them. He doesn’t tell the children about my insistence that the eyes were real, and feeling, and watching, even though I was the only one that could see them. He doesn’t mention the priest they called out to bless the house and grounds.

He doesn't say that when I was nine years old, my mother took me to my room, paddled me with a wooden spoon, and told me never to speak of them again. He doesn’t say, because he doesn’t know, that eyes came closer to my window that night.

The night before I left for college, I opened the window and pulled a chair to it. The warm, late summer air poured in with the ambient chirps of insects. The eyes hovered in the low branches of a tree near the edge of the lawn, a spot they seemed to like. I folded my arms on the windowsill and spoke to them for the first time in ten years.

“I’m leaving for a while,” I said. I didn’t dare shout, still worried that my parents would somehow hear and punish me. “I’ll visit for Thanksgiving and Christmas, so I guess I’ll see you then.”

There wasn’t a blink for a long while. Either they couldn’t hear me, or they couldn’t understand. I sat with them for a while anyway.

Nineteen years old, headed for an Ivy League college, I still wasn’t sure what to make of them. Were they a hallucination? Something more complicated? Maybe it was only a coincidence after all, and it had been an owl or something all those years.

For a while, I was able to leave that lonely part of my life behind me. I went to college and stayed busy with classes, new friends, and plenty of underaged partying. This time, I really did forget about the eyes.

A couple months into my first semester, I stayed at the library until after dark—much longer than I usually would. Of course, a boy was involved. I had convinced him to study with me, and we chatted the hours away like nothing. I was walking on clouds as I left the library, expecting him to walk me back to my dorm building. But when he waved goodbye at the door and walked the opposite direction, my spirits fell. The autumn night felt even colder.

A breeze rustled the crunchy leaves in the dark, raising goosebumps on my flesh. I didn't want to be alone out there any longer than I had to—I made a beeline for the dorm. I walked the path around the expansive lawn, lit only around the perimeter. Leaves rustled again. I looked out into the yawning darkness of the field, barely able to see the lights on the other side, and walked faster.

I muttered a passing greeting to my roommate, Dana, as I quickly opened and shut the door. Dana grunted a hello back. She sat with her back to me at the desk, pouring over a textbook and hand-made flash cards. A single-bulb lamp lit the room by itself, casting long shadows across our bookshelves and narrow beds.

I tossed my backpack onto my bed and made straight for the open curtains. We lived on the ground floor, and passing students would stare into our room like an exhibit at the zoo if the curtains weren’t closed tight.

With my hands gripping the curtains, I froze. Out in the vast, devouring darkness of the lawn, past the sidewalk and the trees, two eyes stared right into the window. I couldn’t look away from them, afraid that if I moved my eyes even a millimeter, they would disappear. They looked into my soul, and I stared back.

I hissed my roommate’s name, telling her to come look.

She stood beside me at the window. “See what?”

“The eyes.”

Dana was quiet for a moment.

The eyes blinked.

“Oh,” she scoffed, “okay, I get it. You had me going there for a second, but it’s way too close to Halloween for me to fall for that!” She laughed it off and went back to her desk.

I stayed frozen at the window, waiting for the eyes to move or blink or something, but they kept staring. They looked just like my eyes—the eyes back home. But how could that be? I was several state lines away from home, nearly two months into the semester! How in the world could they have followed me?

I felt outside of myself, like in some kind of dream where you try to run and find your feet won't move. I don't know how long I stood there before my hands moved of their own accord and pulled the curtains shut forcefully.

They were just animal eyes in the darkness. A deer had wandered into the lawn for a midnight snack, and that was all. Just like Dad said.

After that night, I saw them everywhere. They watched through the window at night, they watched me walk home after dark, they watched when I went to parties and made out behind the science department. I just had to ignore them as much as possible. Nobody else ever saw them, and I couldn't risk my social reputation by asking someone directly. But for the first time in my life, I wondered why I was being watched. The gaze that once soothed and transfixed became something that put me on edge. I hated to walk alone after dark with them watching me, silent and unseen as they crept through the shadows to keep pace. I wished they would go away.

One night just before Christmas break, I was drunk and homesick. I ran from my dorm out into the snow, barefoot, all the way out to the edge of the lawn that they watched from. “What do you want?” I yelled. “I’m here, you son of a bitch! If you want to kill me, I’m right here! What are you waiting for?”

Dana and her boyfriend, also drunk, wrestled me back inside.

“What are you shouting at?” she demanded.

“The eyes! They’re out there, on the lawn. Don’t you see them?”

She walked to the window, and stared out for a while. Without saying anything else, she locked the window with her fumbling, drunk fingers, and pulled the curtains tight. “Go to sleep,” she said. “You’re drunk.”

It wasn’t just college. They always found me, those piercing eyes in the dark. Sometimes it took a few weeks to catch up, maybe even months; but wherever I went, the eyes followed.

After graduating, I moved to a different state for a job, and they watched me from the alley across the street from my new apartment. I saw them in the hedge below my third-floor apartment when I moved back to my hometown. They stared from the parking lot of the Vegas hotel where I spent my honeymoon, far from any lights.

My first Christmas as a married woman, my husband and I tossed a coin and spent the week at my parent’s house. The eyes must have known that place well, because they showed up on the edge of the woods the very same night we arrived. Unprompted, Dad told my husband his version of the story. Later that night as we laid in bed in my childhood room, my husband asked if I had ever seen them again.

“You know, as an adult.”

I looked out the window. There was snow falling gently in the perfect picture of a white Christmas and the eyes, though hard to distinguish from the fat snowflakes, were still there. Staring.

They blinked lazily, and I said, “No.”

For as much as I had avoided being close to them, I never really feared the eyes until I had my first child. I sat in the dark of her nursery just days after her birth, watching the eyes outside the window of my own home in the woods. I held her to my chest, rocking in the chair, and held their gaze as I whispered.

“Go away. Don’t touch her, don’t you even think about touching her. Haven’t you watched me long enough? What do you want?”

My husband caught me doing it before she was even a month old. He thought I had postpartum depression, and maybe I did, but that didn’t change the fact that they stared into her nursery as much as they stared into our bedroom. But I went to the appointments he made for me, I took their medications, and I kept a watchful eye on the wood line.

It became clear quickly enough that they wanted nothing to do with my kids. Still, I wouldn’t let them outside after dark without an adult. I closed all the blinds in the house at sunset, like clockwork. I wasn’t sure if they’d be able to see the eyes like me, but I knew their father would react like mine had and I wasn’t going to let them go through that.

My husband and I became distant, always arguing over the children’s restrictions. He treated me like I was breakable, like I would explode if he pressed too hard. To me, that was more maddening than if he’d been angry and loud. I think he knew somewhere deep down that I was still seeing the eyes. I felt the madness of my childhood slowly repeating itself.

So when my four year old son drew the blinds last night, pointed out the window and said what’s that—I knew something had to be done.

This morning I left the kids with a babysitter and went straight to the library. I gathered up every book they had on the supernatural, paranormal, or just plain weird. I read about things that made me shudder, and things that made me scoff. The chupacabra, Bigfoot, hauntings, aliens. I say the word ‘cryptid’ under my breath, and find it in a dictionary.

At the end of all my skimming and studying, I find that the books invariably have one of two conclusions: either the entity is very real and very dangerous, or the individual giving the accounts are unreliable, maybe even insane. Am I insane?

I walk to the library counter and pay for a half-hour of computer time with the spare change at the bottom of my handbag. I read as much about schizophrenia as I can stomach before switching tactics.

Websites about ghosts

Eyes in the woods

Floating eyes

Am I haunted?

Ghosts following people to different homes

Friendly ghost websites

People driven insane by ghosts

The computer screen closes out suddenly, and I startle at my own reflection in the screen. It’s run out of time while I wasn't paying attention.

I rub my tired eyes and turn away from the computer. As my eye catches the clock, my heart drops out of my chest. It’s past six! My husband must be worried. I consider calling him from the library’s phone, or maybe trying to find a pay phone outside, but I really want to get home before it gets too much later. I’m always afraid to make the dash from my car to the house after dark, worried that the eyes will appear and I’ll have to face their owner.

I drive home without answers, more frustrated than before. The kids are going to be hungry when I get home. What am I going to tell them? What am I going to tell my husband?

On the winding country road near home, my headlights catch something on the side of the road. Something tall, thin, and bright white. I hit the breaks and swerve toward the center of the road.

Not a second after I’ve stopped, three huge does come flying out of the wood line where my car would have been. I was speeding, going maybe fifty five miles an hour on this dark back road. I would have hit those deer, and it might have killed me.

I have to remind myself to breathe, then peel my hands away from the steering wheel. In all the years I’ve been driving this road, I’ve never seen anything like that thing on the side of the road. It couldn’t have been an animal, but it definitely wasn't a tree either. Was it a person? I take a deep breath and turn around to look.

My blood runs cold at the sight of the thing behind me. All I see are two long, impossibly thin legs. My heart twists and speeds up in my chest, urging me to run, go, get away! I should drive away. I should throw the car into reverse and snap those thin bones. It would give me time to get away, if not kill it. And I want to, I want to get away so badly, but my body doesn't respond. I can't move.

A long hand enters my view, lit red by the tail lights, as it leaaaaans over. The face slowly comes into view, sideways and upside down. I see the eyes first—my eyes, the eyes that have watched me so long. I’m lightheaded. Those eyes have just saved my life. If I had hit those deer, I certainly would have died, and my family wouldn’t have known until they came looking.

And it all clicks into place.

This thing has been protecting me! All my childhood, I wanted it to watch me. I never feared it because the watching wasn’t sinister, it was protective. Walking home alone on campus, honeymooning in Vegas, living out in these wild woods, how many times had it saved me and I didn't know?

My hand trembles as I reach for the door. It takes all of the willpower in my body to consciously put my foot on the pavement and stand. My knees feel like gelatin. I turn my body slowly to face it, and nearly scream when I see it, now standing at the rear bumper of my car. It’s standing up straight again—all I can see the outline of its ribs. It has...so many ribs. Hundreds. White skin stretches over the rib ends that jut out like knives, pockmarked with red bug bites and browned spots. The face is—oh God no, I can’t look up, I can’t look at the face. The face is horrible and hollow and inhuman. But the eyes, the eyes are all the intelligent, slow, warmth that I’ve watched for years, and watched me in return.

“Th-thank you.” My mouth is so dry.

It takes a step forward, lifting one long, terrible foot clear over the car to do so. I whimper as it kneels in front of me. I can smell it, green and wet like moss on a riverbank, musty like bones in a basement. What is it? What is this thing? It kneels on both knees in front of me. I stare at its chest because I cannot look at the face. My heart is in my throat and I’m going to faint, I know it. It’s saved my life, I’ve thanked it, what more does it want?

No, I'm safe. I am safe and I have been safe because this guardian has been watching me. Maybe this is just what angels look like. In the Bible, angels appear to man and say do not be afraid. They wouldn't say such a thing unless they knew themselves fearful to be beheld, so this must be my angel.

Yes, I am safe.

Its bones creak like branches in a winter wind. It’s waiting for something—some sign of respect? I breathe deep to muster the courage, and lift my head to meet its gaze.

The eyes are stretching. Oh, they are consuming, they’re huge and warm and so inviting. It lifts a hand to my face, gently brushing my cheek with long, cold fingers. My eyes flutter shut. For a moment I feel faint, like it’s all finally gone to my head and I'm sure to black out. A finger touches my chest right above my heart and lingers there. A cold chill cuts through my body. The weight on my chest disappears...and returns in a blow.

My back hits the open car door and I clutch at my chest, full-bodied fear now coursing through me. What does it want, what does it want? The car’s beeping turns into a shrill roar in my ears and I can't hear it moving—I don't now where it is. WHERE IS IT?

My eyes open to its gaping mouth. It has opened its mouth and it’s opened to the size of my head. The thing’s earthy smell is gone. The thoughts of holy angels and protection and comfort are gone. This is death, this is rot, this has been waiting hundreds of years for my soul and the time has come. I don’t know how, but I know it has followed me through lifetimes and watched for its opportunity. Not to protect, but attack.

I open my own mouth and scream. I scream until my lungs are empty, and then there is nothing but the crickets and the soft fluttering of wind through the trees. The creature doesn't move, jaw hanging open still. Each yellowed tooth is as long as my finger. This thing is starving. I have starved it with my trust. A dry roar peels from its throat. It sounds like burnt grass crunching beneath feet and crops giving way to sand and brown and death and dry rot. The eyes are no longer warm. They are as pale white as the body, and delighting in my terror. I am transfixed once more, unable to move or rationalize thought as I stare into this horrible face. All I can do is whimper and tremble and pray.

The bones rub dryly together as it lifts its arm and brings a long, terrible hand toward my face. The last thing I see is two white fingers coming toward my eyes in the dark.

[eleanor-writes-stuff]

keep calm and let HR handle it [III/VI]

Rey managed to go a full year without ever directly interacting with her new CEO, but now it seems like he’s dropping by her office every single week.

(Because what else is a love-struck fool to do when he falls for his head of HR other than find reasons to visit her department?)

OR: five times Ben gets summoned down to HR, and one time Rey gets called into the CEO’s office, based on this prompt from @optimisticsprinkles​: “Rey as the director of HR at [office] and Kylo/Ben starts finding reasons to be sent down to HR”.

We’re officially halfway done with this modern AU colleagues to friends to lovers! In today’s update:  Ben leaves a board meeting armed with the perfect excuse to go visit Rey. (Fun fact: Leia and Amilyn sit on the board, and they have enough eyes and ears in the building to get all the latest gossip...)

Chapter 2 Also available on AO3. And hey, maybe check out my Twitter and Ko-fi?

To: rey_niima@organafoundation.com From: ben_solo@organafoundation.com Subject: Employee engagement efforts

Hi Rey,

I just met with the board this morning, and one of the things they want us to work on is our employee engagement. I’m guessing yours is the relevant department for me to go to on this. Would it be okay for me to drop by your office sometime today to get the discussion started? I’m free any time after lunch.

Best regards, Ben Solo, Chief Executive Officer, The Organa Foundation.

 To: ben_solo@organafoundation.com From: rey_niima@organafoundation.com Subject: Re: Employee engagement efforts

Hey Ben,

Sure! I’ve actually been looking into that too, so I’ve got some ideas I’d love to bounce off you. I’m free at 3PM, see you then!

Warm regards, Rey Niima, Head of Human Resources, The Organa Foundation.

 A shadow falls upon her office two minutes before 3PM, and Rey looks up to find the increasingly familiar sight of Ben Solo hovering in her doorway.

“Hey,” he says, and Rey blinks at the realization that she’s happy to hear his voice again, even if it is a tiny bit hesitant as he takes in the sight of her surrounded by folders and print-outs. “Is this a good time?”

“Oh, right,” Rey mutters as she looks at the somewhat-organized mess she’s made. “Come on in, I’ll just-“ She makes quick work of putting everything together into a single stack on the corner of her desk while Ben closes the door behind him and settles into his spot opposite her.

Rey looks up from her task and greets him with a grin that feels just the slightest bit too big on her face. “Hi.”

It’s hard to be self-conscious when Ben returns the gesture with a huge smile of his own, though. “Hi.”

She’s not sure how long they would’ve remained frozen like that, just smiling at each other in silence, if Rose hadn’t startled them with a barely muffled shriek of laughter from beyond the door. But she does, and the whole thing does a rather good job of snapping them both out of their unexpected little moment.

“So,” Rey says as Ben clears his throat and sits up a little straighter. “Employee engagement. Any ideas?”

Ben shrugs even as he gives her a sheepish little smile. “I was kinda hoping you’d have some, actually. Or maybe you could walk me through what my mom and Amilyn used to do?”

It’s a bit of a surprise, hearing Ben address her predecessor so familiarly when she’d remained Ms. Holdo to nearly everyone in the foundation up until the day she retired, but a hazy memory of Amilyn mentioning her godson in passing once quickly pushes its way to the forefront of Rey’s mind.

“Oh, sure! Amilyn implemented a lot of ideas over the years, she liked to call them ‘bonding opportunities’, but I think my personal favorite was probably how Leia and Han used to invite everyone over for…”

Rey trails off at Ben’s sharp inhale, and it takes every single bit of willpower she has not to clap a hand over her mouth in horror at her thoughtlessness. It’d taken most of them months, nearly a year, before their grief had run its course, before they could smile at fond memories rather than mourn lost moments. Even she still struggles to remain unaffected by Han’s memory sometimes – so why, why hadn’t she considered how his son might feel before so casually invoking him?

It’s not easy, forcing herself to look at Ben, but when she does she’s surprised to find a tiny smile on his lips and a faraway look in his eyes. “The cookouts,” he murmurs. “I remember those – Mom basically jumped at any opportunity to have everyone over, and Da- Dad always grumbled that she only liked it because he was the one who had to do all the cooking.”

Her heart cries out at his little stumble, at the reminder that this is the son who gave up everything about his former life the night his dad died and ended a ten-year cold war between him and his family just so he could rush home and be by his mom’s side. Somehow, that part always gets left out in the many retellings of Ben Solo’s troubled past.

“She- they kept up the tradition for that long?” Ben asks her, looking pleasantly surprised. “There must’ve been at least a hundred people crammed into the yard by then–” He laughs at the thought.

“Give or take,” Rey confirms with a shrug. “It was crowded, for sure, but… but that was my favorite part, I think. It felt… cozy? Like how I imagine the holidays must be for people who get to spend it with their family, grandparents and cousins and distant relatives all crammed into a tiny house filled with food and laughter and…”

Now it’s Ben’s turn to look at her with eyes that see too much – aided, no doubt, by the poorly concealed longing in her voice.

“Anyway,” Rey cuts herself off with a shrug. “That’s certainly an idea, but like you said: there are at least a hundred of us now, and I don’t suppose you happen to have a huge yard perfect for dinner parties just lying around?”

Ben shakes his head. “No yard, I’m afraid. And my tiny balcony is a tight fit even for me, so…”

She finds herself oddly charmed by the image of Ben Solo, multi-fucking-millionaire (according to Poe) and the oldest of old money, think wrinkled ballsack old (also courtesy of Poe), living in a humble little apartment with a tiny little balcony just like hers, but that’s not exactly relevant right now.

“Right,” Rey says instead. “I figured that might be the case, so I was also toying with the idea of staff lunches, maybe? We could make use of the open space downstairs, or one of the bigger conference rooms on the 36th floor, and set out a bunch of food to encourage everyone to drop by for lunch and just… mingle,” she finishes weakly, faltering under Ben’s attentive gaze – or scrutiny, more likely. It’d seemed like a good idea in her mind, but now–

A thick silence descends upon them as Ben considers the idea, and then… and then he tilts his head to the side with a smile. “That could work. Everyone loves food, right?”

Rey nods a little too enthusiastically, buoyed by relief. “Exactly! And this would have a way higher engagement rate than any after-work or weekend activities, since everyone’s already here anyway.”

“Good thinking,” Ben says with a nod, and Rey pretends the warmth that begins to spread within her is simply a reaction to earning praise from her boss. “Okay, we’ll definitely look into this. What else do you have?”

And for the first time since their initial encounter, Rey thinks she might understand Ben’s confusion over their effect on each other. Because all it takes is one approving smile, one supportive look, and suddenly she finds the courage to tell him about every possibility she’s ever entertained, from serious ideas about replacing the cookout with an annual picnic to ridiculous suggestions like a hot dog eating contest.

The thing is, Ben laughs at the more ridiculous ones. And the important thing is, Ben has a beautiful laugh – it seems to escape him despite himself, but he treats it like a welcome surprise each and every time it happens, and his smile grows wider and his eyes grow warmer and Rey ran out of ridiculous things to suggest about four ideas ago but like hell is she going to stop making this man laugh.

Not by choice, anyway. But at 4PM, Kaydel promptly knocks on her door to remind her that she has another meeting in half an hour.

“Thanks, Kay!” Rey calls out at her closed door, and looks back at Ben to find his smile slowly fading. A faint little grin remains, but the rest of him is composed now, every bit the professional CEO he’s supposed to be. The sight of him back to his usual self, slowly but surely closing himself off, reminds her of one last thing that needs to be done.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize how much of your time I was taking up–” he says as he begins to rise, and Rey reaches out to wrap her fingers around his wrist before she’s even consciously aware of making the decision to stop him.

“Ben, wait!”

He does, falling completely still as he stares at their hands.

Rey quickly lets go. “Um, I, I have one last idea.” Ben nods wordlessly for her to go on and so she does, making a mess of the little speech she must’ve rehearsed a dozen times in her mind over lunch. “So a few of us have this long-running Friday happy hour thing – it’s nothing big or fancy, we just go over to Maz’s to celebrate the end of the week. But I was thinking it might be fun if more people start showing up… especially the ones who have a standing invitation.”

“Oh,” Ben says. “I had no idea about that. Sounds like fun, though,” he offers with a smile.

“Wait, what?”

Surely Poe must’ve invited him at some point, right? And she knows for a fact he and Leia talk about how he’s settling in on a regular basis – why wouldn’t she have mentioned the long-standing tradition she regularly participated in? “But I thought… I don’t know why, I just assumed you knew you’re always invited–”

Realization is slow to dawn in his eyes. “I’m– you guys actually want– wait, so that’s what you meant when you mentioned standing invitations?”

Rey bites back the impulse to cringe; she sounds so… obvious and pushy and maybe even a little desperate when he puts it like that. But… “Yes. So um, consider this your proper, formal invitation to drop by and join us on Fridays, whenever you feel like it.”

Friends invite friends to come join them and their other friends for drinks, right? Especially when they can sense just how lonely said friend is.

Ben’s still smiling, but– “I don’t know, Rey,” he says slowly. “Won’t it be awkward, having the boss around?”

The words slip past her lips before she can even register them, let alone stop them. “I don’t know, I rather like having the boss around.”

There’s no hint of teasing in her voice, not even the slightest bit of flirtation – only the truth blurted out without thought, laid bare in all its sincerity and honesty.

But maybe that’s exactly why Ben’s smile grows wider and why his eyes light up and why he says–

“Well then, I guess I’ll see you on Friday.”

And sure enough, Friday evening finds Ben Solo sandwiched between her and Poe, his safe zone while everyone else slowly warms up to his presence.

Their arms and legs brush together all evening, and Ben keeps leaning in to whisper into her ear rather than yelling at her to be heard over the din, and all in all Rey thinks it’s her most successful employee engagement attempt to date.

. . .

Fun fact #1: I have literally no idea what it’s like running or even working in HR.

Fun fact #2: Writing is apparently not muscle memory, because I still don’t know what I’m doing. I keep waiting for it to come back to me, but... looks like we’re winging this one, friends!

I hope you’re enjoying it anyway. As always, thank you for reading and please don’t hesitate to like/reblog/comment!

[neverwatchedonepiece]

638-639: "A Deadly Blow! The Astonishing King Punch!" and "The Fighting Fish Strike! Across the Deadly Iron Bridge!"

Franky offers to wipe Sol’s internet history.

I knew there was something up with that toy.

Never thought he’d be part of the Resistance, though. (May the force be with you, Sol.)

Once Block B’s Battle Royale concluded (more on that later), the action cut to Franky and Sol the Toy. Sol was suspicious and alarmed by Franky’s willingness to ask any random person he met about destroying a top secret local weapons factory. But Franky was unmoved. He needed intel. He followed Sol out into the stairwell.

At first, it seemed Sol wouldn’t talk. Franky threatened to leave and find someone else. “I said I need to beat up a Donquixote Family member and find out how to destroy the Smile factory!”

But Sol’s caginess stemmed from the fact that he was already involved in a similar plot! (Very cool.) “You keep talking about this radical plan, but why do you want to do such a thing? It seems like you know things ordinary people don’t. What is your true purpose?”

Franky kept his mouth shut. He’s streetwise enough to know not to let any old random in on the Strawheart Alliance’s Yonkou Stompin Plan.

But he was also smart enough to spot a potential ally. “Then you too!” he said. “Where is the factory? Tell me right now and I’ll destroy it.”

Sol refused. He was not against destroying the factory but first, “we want to save the workers.” The use of ‘we’ was a definite giveaway. Sol is not acting alone. He mentioned Rebecca earlier. Maybe she’s part of the Resistance too? I am also suspicious about this Ricky character. He also hates Doflamingo. I have a funny feeling he might be connected to Kyros too (maybe he is Kyros). After all, no one remembers seeing him fight, he just disappeared and it was only twenty years ago this happened.

Another issue Sol raised was that the fall of the factory could lead to the downfall of Dressrosa itself. (Hence Franky shouting about the factory in public not being a good idea.) Okay, I thought. That makes sense. It’d trash the local economy and bring upon the island the wrath of Kaidou. But in that case, why would Sol want that to happen? Well, maybe not *want* it to happen. It’s more like, why would Sol rather have Kaidou wreck the place rather than let the status quo run its course?

I felt like Sol almost gave it away when he said to Franky, “If you have the nerve and are determined to go against Doflamingo, I’m going to tell you everything about this tragic kingdom of Dressrosa!”

Yes, please! Please do tell us all about the tragic kingdom of Dressrosa!

But I was blueballed. The credits rolled and the plot hasn’t circled back to Sol and Franky.

I’ll make a mad prediction while I wait. I’m thinking all these invisible fairies hanging about might be the original inhabitants of Dressrosa and the Donquixote Family have enslaved them or are forcing them to work in the factory for practically nothing. 

And the Winner Is...?

Meanwhile, in the Colosseum, Block B’s battle was about to conclude.

The twists and turns here were great. I guessed Bartolomeo would emerge the victor (laws of shounen: the fighter who is totally relaxed and barely lifts a finger always ends up winning (this only applies to battles that aren’t vital to the plot)). But how the fight played out was really entertaining and I never imagined it ending that way.

The mystery of Bartolomeo’s Devil Fruit power was kept until the very end of the fight. Even Bellamy’s speed and power couldn’t break Bartolomeo’s strange, deflective powers. At first I thought it was a rebound power. This was only because Bartolomeo seemed surprised by one of Bellamy’s attacks (like the power seemed to happen automatically - not controlled by Bartolomeo). Now I know Bartolomeo must have had his fingers crossed while Bellamy was attacking. The only thing that planted a seed of doubt? Bellamy did manage to grab Bartolomeo. How had that worked?

The scene of multiple betrayals was fun. Dagama urged the fodder fighters to regroup, muster their strength and focus attacks on Blue Gilly - only for Dagama to cut them down when their backs were turned and reveal he had really teamed up with Blue Gilly all along! That was a fun twist in itself. Then, when Gilly double-crossed Dagama.... ooooh, the intrigue! The fact the fodders were probably coerced into fighting because Dagama had poisoned them only upped the scumbag stakes.

I love that Dagama had the cheek to complain Blue Gilly double-crossed him. It’s like Gilly said, “Can’t believe people would trust a dubious guy like him in the first place!”

While everyone was double-crossing each other, Elizabello shadow-boxed and sweat-dropped. A bunch of chuckling, vengeful thugs surrounded him. Gilly decided to gloat. Called him a “helpless king without a court” who couldn’t do anything without Dagama.

When Liz ceased so shadow box... that should have been everyone’s clue to take him out. Instead, the other idiots in the ring let Liz power up. The guy stood there red-faced, yelling and popping veins like he was locked in the bathroom suffering through a difficult poop.

Even the audience knew something was wrong before they did. A group of worried randoms figured out their section of the Colosseum would be wrecked if they didn’t scarper.

By the time Gilly and the other fighters noticed something was seriously wrong, Gilly’s attempt to take Liz out was too late. KABOOM! Liz threw the King Punch. It was pretty spectacular. A golden-tinged impact that would have done Caesar proud. It took out almost everyone. Bellamy, Gilly, everyone who had been knocked out, was blown away into the moat.

Only a single-person remained in the ring.

IT WAS ME, DIO BARTOLOMEO!

Yes, it was Bartolomeo! And the trick he had been using to job the entire fight was revealed by Liz’s King Punch. 

Bellamy was right: Bartolomeo was a Devil Fruit user. He has eaten the Barrier Barrier Fruit, which enables him to protect himself from (any?) attacks if he crosses his fingers. He also unwittingly used his powers to save a large section of the Colosseum and the crowd who would have been obliterated by the blast. Not sure if he’d like that. But a win was a win, right?

Interestingly, Bartolomeo also has a reason for fighting. After he told the audience to go to hell, he declared he would win the Mera Mera Fruit and dedicate it to “That Person.”

As yet, I have absolutely no clue who it could be. 

But Bartolomeo’s reaction to finding out Strawhat Luffy was in the mix was intriguing. Was that fear I saw on his face? I’m trying to remember if I’ve ever seen Bartolomeo before but am drawing a complete blank. The weirdest thing was that there was no confrontation between Luffy and Bartolomeo. Looking forward to seeing what is up with this guy later on.

Luffy cheering on Bellamy was a good twist too. Actually, it’s not really a twist. When it comes to most people Luffy doesn’t care much about the past (Teach and Akainu are probably on the shit list for good). If he can forgive you, then all is forgotten. Of course, Bellamy felt embarrassed being cheered on by the old enemy who gave him a pasting. Doubly so, since he has failed again and Luffy has become so much stronger (able to use Conqueror’s haki - like Doflamingo, I guess).

Now the focus is on Block C. The competitors here seem a bit fodderish, with the exception of Don Chinjao. We have Sai, Boo, Brutal Bull (lmao), Hajrudin a Giant pirate mercenary from Elbaf, some fighting champ called Ideo, the Funk Brothers (lmao) and some guy called Jean the Bandit. Rebecca should clean up here. Then, when Block D comes around, it’ll be Luffy vs Cabbage.

Unpopular Opinion Time

I am beginning to like Caesar.

There must be something wrong with me.

Oda, I can’t believe you’ve done this. It is entirely your fault.

The action cut from Bartolomeo’s horrified Luffy realisation to the Caesar Handover Team out on the bridge.

My prediction that it would take them ages to cross the bridge was shot down in glorious flames. Thanks to Caesar, it didn’t even take them half an episode! Thank you, Oda.

It turned out the solid-looking iron bridge praised by Usopp was not especially robust. I think Caesar jinxed it, though. He was the one who said, “We’ll be fine if the fish don’t strike.”

Then a bubbling rumble in the depths announced itself. I lol’d heartily when a Vast Horned Abomination slammed itself into the barrier and stared at them with a grin stretched across its face and a look of murder in its mad, red eyes that said, “There will not be a second smash.” (I liked their design, by the way. The fighting fish look awesome.)

As Law wanted to reserve most of his strength for the return journey, he left Robin and Usopp to smack down the fighting fish (literally in Robin’s case). They were doing a fine job, but when Law asked Usopp to uncuff Caesar so he could fight...

Holy moly, Caesar is actually pretty strong. I keep forgetting, since he acts like such a highly-strung goofball diva a lot of the time, but damn... those Gastille beams fried those fish like it was cookout season!

Still, there were a lot of fish. And the bridge had collapsed in the middle. With nowhere to run, Law almost used Room, but the offending fish was speared, netted and dragged away along the other half of the bridge by freaked out, invisible people. (Interesting.)

Once Caesar was convinced to fly them all over the broken bridge (Caesar is basically Law’s bitch now his heart’s in a box. He is hilariously bitter about it,) they discovered the netted fish drag marks led straight to Green Bit.

It’s a strange place, is Green Bit. It is supposedly deserted and is therefore overgrown, wild, full of animal life. Ships lie wrecked all round the coast. A single, huge rose towers over everything else (hence the name Dressrosa?) Usopp should be fine here. He’s used to hostile wilderness terrain. Unless the invisible fairy people attack them. Then all bets are off.

KNEW IT.

I totally knew Sanji was being played.

Still, I’m glad the dumb charade has finally run its course. At least it only lasted for a couple of minutes each episode. I was getting tired of Sanji dropping all his Strawhat responsibilities for a random.

Got to admit, though, the brief skirmish with the thugs in the warehouse was cool. Sanji was so fast, the guy never knew what hit him. Sanji is always so stylish when he fights.

And look at what it’s got him into. Cuffed and likely hauled off to who-knows-what fate. Sanji’s reaction to Violet was interesting. It was almost like he recognised her face. (Either that or realisation hit that he was being played the entire time.) Whatever the case, this plot line has just become ten times more interesting and I’m looking forward to seeing where it leads.

If I can make another mad prediction? Violet is a member of CP0. Absolutely no basis for this other than she looks pretty dead behind the eyes, is kinda scary and her working with CP0 would tie them into the main plot nicely.

“Excuse me, do you have a moment to talk about our lord and saviour, Donquixote Doflamingo?”

[thorsstorms]

Abroad Pt. 3

(Chris Hemsworth x Reader)

Summary: Being the Hemsworth Kids’ Nanny, you were vowed to keep it strictly professional for their sake, but do the stolen glances go unnoticed between you both?

Word count: 4k

A/N: After reading, leave me a little comment down below about what you would do if you ever had the chance to watch IW with a Chris!

Masterlist

He ended up sleeping in longer than normal, the flight from the day before wore him out. He woke up to find you and India were gone, but both boys were still sound asleep. He checked the time on his phone, 8:03 AM. He slowly brushed the boys off him so they could remain sleeping before he tiptoed his way out of the room. The sound of music playing in the kitchen was drawing closer. He turned slowly and saw you and Indy making breakfast dancing silly around the kitchen. He quickly snapped a short video of you both and sent it to his brother to show his wife, seeing as it was her song you both were jamming to.

Liam: nice, good taste of music!

Liam: Shes pretty too

Chris: I know

“Papa!” India yelled when she saw him standing there looking at his phone. You didn’t dare turn around, your face was probably tomato red and the thought that he caught you two being silly.

After breakfast, you worked with the kids for a few hours while Chris went to go meet with his trainer. The usual week day morning routine took place, quite calmly. When the boys were both asleep upstairs and Indy was occupied with a book, you walked back down to the kitchen to finish cleaning up the breakfast mess. The playlist on again as you started to pick up little toys and shoes that the kids had left around the house.

“Jamming to Miley again?” His voice startled you, not hearing the garage door because of the music. The teasing in his voice didn’t go unnoticed. He started to set his belongings down on the counter.

“Actually, you just so happened to catch me twice in a row. I have a lot of music!” You said matter of factly, turning around to him. You were starting to get good at not staring for too long, and not allowing his presence to catch you off guard. “Plus I don't know if you know this but I’ve been ‘jamming’ to Miley since I was like… 12,” you said adding air quotes. His eyes lit up like he was surprised, but decided to not say anything more. You returned to gathering toys and taking them up to the playroom.

Before Chris walked into his room, presumably to shower, you told him you and India were going to the grocery store and that the boys were asleep upstairs. Your mind wandered to his room, what it looked like. You had never seen it, as it was skipped over on your little tour he gave you when you first got here. But you always watched him disappear into it, your eyes following him till he was no longer in sight.

Chris had stayed home for about two and half weeks so far. After they finished filming the new MIB movie he was home very often. You both fell into little routines revolving around the kids, stolen glance included. Most of the time you both would do your own thing, India even came with you to see Bri in Gold Coast for lunch one afternoon.

She started to become your little companion, a little shadow. You surprised her father one night when she wanted to play in your makeup, doing it for you with a beautiful pink shimmer slapped across your eyelids and a dark purple lipstick to match. With identical makeup looks, you both snuck up behind him on the couch. Although he expressed how great it looked to her, you could see the wide eyed ‘why is my 6 year old wearing makeup’ look sent your way. You just shrugged and smirked, how could you say no to her?

This week was one of those weeks where Elsa was spending time with the kids at her place. She was in town for a few days and was spending every minute with them. When they left you almost felt sad, but quickly reminded yourself that you are kid free.

Bri came down on Saturday and spent the day with you in the sun and in the water. Chris was meeting his friends for a cookout a couple houses down, so you and Bri had the afternoon alone. You gave her a quick little tour of your loft space and then you both booked it down to the water. She was not shy on asking you a million questions about him.

“Other than the fact that I want to climb him like a tree 24/7, he is seriously just like a normal dad. He’s a good cook. He’s very involved so we end up doing a lot together,” you sat back in the chair, closing your eyes, enjoying the feeling of the sun on your skin.

“So… have you done it yet?” she said nonchalantly next to you.

“Done what yet?” you grumbled knowing exactly what she was getting at.

“You know, climbed him like a tree,” she said mocking you.

“Bri,” you said as a warning, not wanting this conversation to go any farther. You scolded her once again like you had done repeatedly in the past, that you were there for the kids not him, and it would be inappropriate. She never failed to mention that you were both single and living under the same roof. “I have to think logically about this stuff, it’s too good of a job to ruin.”

“Holy shit, is that him?” Your eyes finally opened from under your sunglasses to see three guys surfing not too far down the beach from you. You watched them for a minute, the current bringing them slowly closer towards you.

“Yes,” you mumbled, finally looking away. The internal fight you have to have with yourself on a daily basis was so tiring that you had to force yourself to look away. Bri on the other hand did not exactly cover her ogling when he started walking to shore towards you both.

“Bri check yourself,” you mumbled to her. She quickly looked away and tried to act casual by picking up her beer between the chairs.

“Ladies!” He said walking up to you both, dropping his board in the sand.

“Having fun out there?” You said casually, not opening your eyes under your glasses. You were laying back once again and refused to look up and see what you might call ‘the end of all logic.’ You would, you knew if you opened your eyes to look at him you would probably jump on him.

“Aww yea, the wake is just perfect, you should check it out yourself,” he tried again to insinuate that you try to surf. He had tried to let you learn one day and you shot him down quickly.

“Oh no, I’m fine thanks,” you said quickly, shifting in your seat. You could feel his eyes on you, as you gripped the arms of the chair.

“Come one (y/n), it’s not bad,” he urged on. You felt a couple of drops of water hit your legs and you could feel he was standing closer to you.

“Chris, honestly….. No,” that was the best you could come up with as to reasons why you should not learn to surf. That’s when you felt your sun get blocked. Ok, eyes are opening. You squint your eyes open and saw him reach for your hands before grabbing and pulling your grasp from the chair.

“Chris I’m serious!” You yelled back at him, though it wasn’t very convincing, fighting his hands away from you. His goofy smile was bright on his face, ignoring your pleas. Bri sat quietly and watched with amusement as he eventually had you on your feet and over his shoulder in a split second and was already walking towards the water. Maybe it was the few beers you had, or the few too many that he had as well, but you both were enjoying this way too much. Even though you struggled against his grip, your goose bumps magnified 100% when you could feel his hands grasp on to your thighs, and the feeling of your hands holding on to his waist, scared you were going to fall. Through all the “Chris put me down”s and all the “the water feels great”s, you didn’t notice he was already almost waist deep before he dropped you in the water.

It wasn’t the cold water that startled you, it was the fact that you just stepped on something hard as soon as your feet hit the ground. As quick as they went down, they jumped back up.

“Fuck! I stepped on something!” You screamed and grabbed on to his arms to keep from going back down. He threw his head back and a loud laugh pulled from him as you tried your best to stay up, throwing your arm around his shoulder, searching the water below for whatever it was.

“Stop laughing!” You yelled at him, still looking around for whatever it was frantically.

“It…. It was my foot!” He barely spit out between laughs. His face going red. You watched his face contort into never ending laughter. Your heart thumping out of your chest when you realized that you were in fact, climbing him like a tree. You quickly pulled you arm off his shoulder and slowly touched the ground with your toes, making sure you didn’t feel anything in the sand. Your face was matching his color by the time you realized how silly it was.

“God, seriously,” you grumbled to yourself, pushing him away so you could walk to the shore. You heard his steps splashing and his laughs starting to die out as he followed you in. Now it was going to be impossible to stop staring at him. You made it to Bri quickly, immediately dismissing her stares and whatever comment was about to spill out. He followed up behind you still catching his breath from laughing. Of course Bri has to ask what’s so funny like she didn’t just see it. Chris couldn’t even tell her without laughing. You started to get annoyed at how funny he thought this was. You didn’t even want to go into the water in the first place, secondly it wasn’t exactly appropriate, not for you to have enjoyed it that much.

“Ok, yea while y’all laugh it out, I’m going to shower,” you were not in the mood to be around them right now. You were annoyed at yourself for the most part. You have tried so hard to stay cool around him like he doesn’t affect you but he blows the border completely. At least the kids were not there. The kids.

You sat down on the patio, not exactly wanting to go inside yet because you were still soaking wet. You watched as Chris sat down in the chair you were occupying. His head turning to Bri, listening to what she was saying. You groaned at the thought of her blabbering off to him about god knows what. You watched them for a little bit, them both talking back and forth, and once Chris turning his head back to see you sitting on the patio, though you quickly looked away and pretended to be occupied with your phone. What, were you a child? You felt so silly, like playing a game at this point: avoid eye contact at all costs. You looked up, deciding that that was stupid and saw him standing from the chair and grabbing your towel. Your phone buzzed in your hands.

Bri: RUN.

You didn’t know what it meant but you weren’t questioning it. You quickly stood up and booked it inside. You were already up to your room and starting the shower as soon as you heard the back door shut. Ok, so forget trying to act like an adult.

Bri was sitting on the couch with her phone in her hand when you got out of the shower. You ignored her and got changed into some yoga pants and a loose t shirt.

“So,” you called from your room, picking up some clothing. “What did you say to him?” You asked her, walking in front of her so she couldn’t lie to your face.

“Honestly it’s not even that bad-”

“What. Did you say?” you asked again.

“I told him that I hadn’t seen you this happy in a long time,” she replied, looking you dead in the eye. “I told him that you looked happy being here with him,” you groaned and plopped down next to her. “What? I told you it wasn’t that bad!” She defended herself.

“Well did you word it like that?!” you whined knowing she was telling the truth.

“(y/n) seriously, stop being so dramatic,” she sat back on the couch returning to her phone.

“Bri. Seriously. I can’t get involved with him,” you told her for the last time. You stood up walking away to grab a water from the mini fridge.

“And why the fuck not?” She started to raise her voice. “You can’t give me one reason!”

“The fact that he’s my boss is reason enough!” You snapped back at her. Her phone went off again on the table. “And who the fuck keeps texting you!” You said looking down at her phone. Confusion and then understanding quickly flooded your emotions. It’s a joke, right? Your eyes slowly lift from her screen to look at her in front of you.

“Tell him I said hi,” you spoke lowly. If death was a stare, this would be it. She just gave you a blank stare, not even trying to deny it. “You should go.”

“Really?” she asked, as if checking to see if you were serious.

“Really,” Your eyes followed her as she grabbed her things from the table and made her way to the stairs. “You can text me when your done fucking around with him, feel free to tell him the same,” ok, that was mean. You followed her down the steps, wanting to make sure she leaves, not sticking around to say shit to Chris.

“How about you call him and not hang up on him for seconds so he can actually talk to you!” She opened the door at the bottom and you watched her take a step out into the hallway.

“I told you years ago Bri! Anyone BUT him!” You yelled back at her as she opened the garage door. Your voice was cracking when emotions started to rise. you hated fighting with her but you hated her involvement with your brother even more.

“At least I’m honest with myself,” she said calmly as she walked away from you. You shut the door in front of you and turned on your heels to go back up stairs. Chris was standing there in the walkway to the kitchen, staring at you as you turned around. He watched you awkwardly as you reached your door. Small tears started to rise up behind your eyes, you always hated confrontation, you were never able to handle it well.

“Are you ok?” He asked quietly. Although the answer was known to him, felt compelled to ask anyway. You mumbled a ‘yea’ and ignored him as you started walking back up the stairs. He silently followed you up, but you didn’t say anything, though you should have. You walked straight to the wine cooler and pulled out a small bottle of fireball, setting it on the counter, staring at it. He came to stand next to you, resting his hands on the counter. He started to pull two shot glasses from the cabinet, but you just grabbed the bottle and took a quick gulp of it before setting it back down.

“Who needs shot glasses,” you mumbled walking away from the counter towards the couch. Chris followed you silently, grabbing the bottle and pulling a blanket from the linen closet, setting it on the couch between you both. He reached for the tv remote and kicked up his feet and unfolded the blanket, laying it across his legs. You watched him like he was out of his mind. He pulled up netflix and started to scroll through.

“What are you doing?” You asked quietly, still watching him, but he never acknowledged that you were staring.

“Just picking a movie,” he mumbled, unscrewing the lid of the fireball as his eyes scanned the tv screen. You settled back into the couch as he clicked through your recents.

“You don’t have to-”

“Ahh look, a great movie!” He cut you off. You looked at the screen and saw Ragnarok pulled up.

“Ok, no. I’m not nearly drunk enough to watch this with you,” you told him quickly. He just smirked and clicked out of it. You grabbed to bottle from his hands and took another drink, your face twisting in disgust as the strong cinnamon taste lingered.

“You know what, lets watch Infinity War,” you said, knowing you’ve got too many questions to ask. With a couple more swigs of fireball you knew you could handle the movie with him. 

“Really?” He was so surprised, but clicked on it anyway.

“Yea why not, Cap looks so good with the beard,” you added calmly. You pulled his blanket over your legs, nestling into the couch. You smirked when you felt his head snap in your direction.

“Great, now I’m not nearly drunk enough to watch this with you,” he mocked you, pulling the bottle from your hands, starting the movie.

“So,” you whispered as Thanos came on screen. “Is Loki really dead?” You questioned seriously. He just rolled his eyes and faced back to the screen. Both of you turned away from the screen cringing when Thor started yelling in pain. Chris, out of embarrassment. You, out of... yea, embarrassment. You passed the bottle to each other again.

When the Guardians music started to play you wiggled in your seat, a smile growing on your face. You were too excited to sit still. Every 5 seconds you would turn back to Chris’s face to see if he was reacting in any sort of way, knowing he was about to be on screen. You tried to hold in your giggles as you stared back and forth to him and the screen. As soon as Thor slammed into the wind shield and the racoon started yelling about wipers, your laughter wasn’t able to be held in any longer. It bubbled out of your mouth uncontrollably when Chris gave you the side eye. The whiskey just hit you hard. You watched the screen as Gamora was yelled at by Peter, your mouth was having trouble staying closed. Chris watched you from the side, as the lights from the tv illuminated your face. He was so content to sit here and watch you react to the movie like it was your first time seeing it all over again.

“You gotta do it,” he watched as you turned to him when Thor jumped off the table. “Do it do it do it,” you chanted to him, sitting up on your knees shaking his shoulder with both hands, but watching the tv as Thor turned around and saw the Guardians. You watched him as he mumbled the ‘Who the hell are you guys’ and you were about to fall off the couch. That’s it, no more whiskey.

Chris never took his eyes off you, even when you turned back to the screen. His heart was so full watching you. He would say it to you every day for the rest of your life if it meant hearing you laugh like that, if it meant seeing your bright smile overwhelm your features, if it meant seeing you happy with no care in the world. Or maybe it was just the alcohol.

“Oooooo shit!” You yelled as Captain America came on screen, catching the weapon that was thrown at him after the train cleared. When his face came into the light you let out another holler. “Damn,” you mumbled to yourself, not being able to control your mouth anymore. While Chris sat next to you, looking annoyed as all get out.

Farther into the movie you got quieter, snuggling deeper into the blanket. Your head was spinning every time you tried to change positions. Some point into it, you were pressed against him, though you were almost ignoring him completely because the movie seemed more interesting to your drunk self.

Chris on the other hand was having trouble even looking at the screen. He was enjoying admiring you so close while you weren’t looking. His hand was rested over your shoulder, snaking under the blanket, his hand feeling the soft skin of your arm. He watched your profile. The way your eyes widened when something was happening and you couldn’t look away. They way the flickered across the screen with interest. The small smiles you would get when a joke was made. He eventually watched your eyes fill with tears as soon and Bucky fell. Your eyebrows were furrowed as you finally turned to him while some others where fading in the forgotten screen in front of him.

“What?” He grumbled quietly, concerned about the frown in your face.

“You know what,” you looked away from him as Peter was slipping out. “Your aim sucks,” you said with a straight face. He couldn’t bring himself to laugh, but he just squeezed over your shoulders pulling you impossibly closer. You mindlessly shuffled on to your side, your shoulder falling in between you both. Your head rested against his chest as your attention on the movie was fading away. Suddenly you were hyper aware of your surroundings.

You could feel his heart beating against you, and him thumb tracing lazy circles on your arm. You could feels his eyes that never left their gaze. You stayed there, not wanting to move, or not wanting to look at him, feeling him was enough.

“(Y/n),” he whispered as your eyes remained on the scrolling credits. His hand stopped moving against your skin.

“Hmm,” you acknowledged him, but you were afraid to move. Your alcohol ridden brain was over thinking moving from his grasp. All you had to do was sit up, but it wasn’t what your heart was feeling. His free hand lifted to your head, brushing the hair that falls into your face out of the way. You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes.

Chris wasn’t about holding out any longer. The need to taste your lips on his was overwhelming his senses. Against all better judgment he pressed his lips to yours. It was light, and fresh. He was quick to pull away brushing his thumb over your cheek bone, hesitating if this was a good idea or not. It wasn’t, but that was not what had your mind reeling. You quickly pressed yourself to him, eager to taste the cinnamon on his lips. Your hand grabbed at his wrist, holding him in place. With a swift intake of breath, his lips molded with yours perfectly. Everything around you disappeared but the intensity that you both put into each other. His arm around your back pulled you tight against him, his fingertips pressing into you. He dipped his tongue in, expertly drawing  the best pleasures from inside you. Your body lit up, a fluttering shock ran up your spine that turned you almost numb against his touch.

His touch that should not be on you. His touch that you vowed to yourself, you were going to avoid. You hurriedly pushed off of him with wide eyes. You sat up straight on the couch, your hands gripping the cushion to keep you steady from the head rush. “We can’t,” you mumbled to yourself more than him. He heard you, and knew it, but he didn’t want to. He wanted you to give in to yourself and let him hold you and let him kiss you. He knew that you could feel what that kiss did for you both. He sat up straight and ran a hand over his face, sighing.

“I want food,”- “I’m hungry,” you both mumbled at the same time, looking around the room aimlessly like you didn’t know what to do next. You tried to stand up, but about fell forward on to the coffee table before he grabbed your arm. You together carefully walked down the stairs, holding the railing.

“There’s nothing good,” he said to himself, looking to the fridge that was filled with vegetables, and everything that took an effort to cook. He grabbed a cold water bottle and checked the freezer.

You retreated to the dining table and sat down. “There’s pizza rolls in there.”

“You feed my kids that shit,” he questioned over his shoulder. You hummed in reply, not having much energy left to speak, much less keep your head off the table.

TL: @innerpaperexpertcloud @rosiethebaker

[icequeen-shiva]

alright, you know what

about two weeks ago maybe by now, i made a post about how i’ve recently hit 200 followers and i’d like to do a q&a again, and even with a reblog from someone more ~*popular*~ than me, and multiple reblogs once a day for a few days by myself, i didn’t get a single fucking question. not one. earlier today i posted two pictures of myself where i felt pretty (i’ve since deleted them) and nobody i actually know of liked it and i got asked by a stranger who doesn’t even follow me if i had any nsfw pictures. i don’t get asks anymore, i don’t get shit. and that tells me that, you may be following me, but you aren’t connecting with me. and i feel that. i get on tumblr and i don’t feel like i’m friends with fucking anybody. and i did that. i know i did that. 9/10 times i let my fear of rejection and embarrassing myself overcome my desire to talk to people, so i don’t do it, or i let it fizzle out and we go our own ways and we don’t become friends. 1/10 times i actually function as a human being and make a connection or at least something that sticks a little.

so here, below the cut, is a comprehensive (loosely) list of things that i like, in no particular order at all, besides tickling, because apparently both sides of this need a little help connecting on any front.

scooby-doo

beetlejuice

the addams family

the sims

the mcu

classic disney animations; my favorites are dumbo, the great mouse detective, the rescuers, sleeping beauty, and oliver and company (it’s old enough that i consider it in the classic category)

~modern disney animations too; my favorites are treasure fucking planet, coco, and... i’m a sap, beauty and the beast. rise of the guardians too even though it isn’t disney.

musicals; i can’t pick a favorite just fucking ask me, but i don’t know a lot of newer ones honestly

empire records

the greatest showman still

cats (i mean the animals but i also like the show even though it is Weird As Hell)

my cat in particular

alice in wonderland

stranger things

space jam

tsum tsums

elvira, mistress of the dark

dice

kiki’s delivery service and specifically jiji things

winnie the pooh i don’t even fucking care i LOVE HIM AND ALL OF HIS FRIENDS

silly hats

playdoh

interesting earrings

exploring libraries or big bookstores

true crime mysteries; my favorite youtuber for this is georgia marie, bless her. i also watch bella fiori and kendall rae

fictional mysteries too

i have a kind of fascination with jack the ripper and with the lizzie borden case

shipwrecks! i don’t know why but shipwrecks fascinate me! why did they go down? all the stories that went with them!

i once read a novel that was told as a series of letters, or journal entries, by people on the titanic, including the iceberg and it was THE absolute saddest book i have ever read in my life. like, obviously i knew what was coming, but i got attached to the characters, the letters made them alive and it was just like... NO. NO I DON’T WANT THEM TO DIE. I KNOW THEY’RE GOING TO BUT THEY CAN’T. and it was awful. i had to put it down and cry.

cryptozoology

the bermuda triangle theories (i’m not saying i believe sOmEtHiNg’S gOiNg On but i think some of the theories are interesting)

ghosts

the nancy drew computer games

monopoly

i still play a lot of my snes games; my go-to time killer and head-clearer honestly is kirby’s avalanche. i also play a lot of super mario rpg legend of the seven stars, super mario world, kirby’s dreamland 3, and donkey kong 2 and 3

final fantasy x in which i’m guaranteed to call almost (i can’t stress that enough) every character at some point “my child”

hyrule warriors, i know it’s not a tRuE zelda game but it’s fucking fun

same with fire emblem warriors

red dead redemption

kingdom hearts

the uncharted series

splatoon but i don’t have it wahhhhh

mind you i am not very Good at videogames, i just like to play them anyway

game grumps

ninja sex party

jacksepticeye

markiplier

monty python

crocheting

tea

harry potter

classic rock. pretty big on queen lately. i like tom petty and the heartbreakers. i like joan jett and the blackhearts.

i just... like rock. across the board. i like the offspring. i like some rage against the machine songs. acdc on the radio makes me happy. def leppard on the radio makes me happy. beartooth, starset, powerman 5000, as long as it’s got a good beat and good stuff going on behind the vocals then i’m gonna be happy. i’m way more into the guitars and the bass and everything going on instrumentally than i am vocally, honestly. the whole big guitar solo to van halen’s “you really got me” and then that bassline that comes in, that bassline is sexy. it’s so simple but i LIKE it.

anyway music as a whole gets me right in the heart and can lift me up when i am at my literal worst point

it’s hard for me to name a favorite or specific bands that i like because there’s so many and i’m not really picky about it. 

pop vinyls

good ol’ vines

buffalo wings

mac and cheese

grilled cheese

dr. pepper

i drink a l o t of dr. pepper

pretending i know how to do makeup well

history; i watch a lot of expedition unknown and mysteries at the museum, and sometimes i’ll watch a free documentary on youtube if it catches my attention. last weekend i explained the donner party to my boyfriend. just.. on a whim. because i’d just watched a thing on it and he said he didn’t really know what it was. i’m that person.

OH I SHOULD HAVE MENTIONED THIS BACK AROUND TRUE CRIME BUT I READ A BOOK ABOUT H.H. HOLMES AND HIS MURDER CASTLE AND THE CHICAGO WORLD’S FAIR. it was by erik larson, i believe. larsen? i could google this. devil in the white city. there’s been talks to make it a movie. it’s a good read though i will admit i skipped a lot of the fair parts because i was there for the murder.

i also read a book about the lusitania by the same author and i was like ohhh my goooood what. it got a little boring sometimes, i had to push myself to keep going, but i would read dead wake again.

csi: miami reruns are the greatest thing don’t @ me

dark purple and black aesthetics

just like... witchy aesthetics. those colors and black cats

if you haven’t noticed by any selfies i’ve posted, i do have my lip pierced and i love finding new lip jewelry. i have a new opal stud in and i love its look

leather jackets

combat boots; i have a galaxy print pair and a pair with classic marvel comics stuff printed on the inside and you can fold down the sides to show it. they’re my faves.

owls

drunk history

the first 5 seasons of supernatural and i still have a soft spot for the winchesters and castiel

i’m slowly making my way through watching the librarians

i’m also making my way slowly through watching the magicians

(american) football

nature walks

going to the zoo

going to the aquarium

like really take me to either of the above and i will lose my shit

road trips

savannah, georgia

the smokey mountains

last august i drove by myself from ohio to boone, north carolina for a friend’s wedding and that wedding was smack on a mountain top and it was the coolest thing i think i’ve ever done

roller coasters BUT NOT EXTREME ONES baby steps ok

log rides tho, i don’t know why, i always love the water rides

ren faires!

cosplay, even though i’m not exactly active in it myself (but i want to be; one of my offline friends is an actually-getting-kind-of-internet-famous mei from overwatch cosplayer)

cards against humanity

foosball

pool but i suck at it

speaking of pools i love swimming ... but i suck at it, i just like boppin’ along in a pool

cookouts

summer

there is nothing like being out in the middle of nowhere in summer when the evening starts to fall and the sky is dark, dark blue and there’s a sea of shimmering lightning bugs out over a field. it’s beautiful. it’s peaceful.

there’s nothing like sitting outside on a calm spring night and listening to the spring peepers (they’re frogs) either.

if you couldn’t tell, i live in the middle of nowhere. i have to find enjoyment in the little things.

campfires

dancing around said campfire, you cannot have a campfire without good music. this is when a lot of my classic rock education came to pass.

elephants

my favorite books are the abhorsen trilogy by garth nix, tied with the serpent’s shadow by mercedes lackey

i am trying to get into comic books by way of the youtube channel comicstorian. they break comic books down for you and read them aloud with the images, altered slightly to avoid copyright strikes (and that’s all made very clear, it’s not done sketchily), and it’s been really easy for someone like me who doesn’t just have a comics store close (and i would otherwise continue on as i have been, forgetting to ever look for them on the internet). i listened to injustice 1 and 2, and they covered the game. i’m actively following scooby apocalypse, and there was some teen titans stuff i went all the way through up until now. i don’t think it’s finished yet from what i remember.

i love museums

candles

i actually kind of collect tea sets

i also have a collection of sand art bottles AND IF I’M EVER AT A FESTIVAL OR A FAIR WHERE THERE IS A SAND ART STAND YOU CAN BET I AM GOING TO MAKE ONE

yugioh duels; i’m definitely just a novice and it’s just a fun pastime my friends got me into when they found their giant binders of cards again

i’m not actually that big on pokemon, i don’t know a lot of them but it’s still fun and i know some. but i did love pokemon go when my friends still played it (don’t really have time anymore, and it kept crashing way too badly on one of their phones anymore anytime they tried to join a raid and it just wasn’t fun as a group then)

i don’t have any but i like the ~look of crystals and would like to have some, not for my own aesthetic but i just... like having pretty things!

listening to the rain

how the air smells (at least where i live) after a long rain and everything is just cleansed

depression has stopped me from writing for a long time but, in my heart, writing has always been something that has touched me ever since i knew how to do it and could put my stories down on paper instead of having to just talk about them... so i’m going to include that here

root beer floats

hotdogs

hard dip ice cream (if you don’t know what hard dip means... as my boyfriend didn’t... it means ice cream that you have to use a scoop with, not soft serve)

soft serve’s good too tho don’t get me wrong

strawberry milkshakes

this isn’t even stuff that anyone would need to know on this site to befriend me at this point, nobody’s gonna message me like HEY I READ YOU LIKE STRAWBERRY MILKSHAKES ME FUCKING TOO

you’re cool if you do that lmao

so bad they’re good creature features from the 50s and 60s

the old godzilla movies

i like the moon more than the stars, but i like them too

flower crowns

bouncy balls

original skittles

this has gone on way too long, nobody is reading this, your mom’s a hoe, goodnight

no she’s not, i’m sorry, if you got this far then i hope your mom is a nice person

[captivismarchive-blog]

mystery solved || z self para

tw: guns, violence

“aight z, you got this.” he was looking at himself in the rearview mirror of his car, taking a deep breath in and nodding. “you got this. you gotta have this. you gotta know what’s going on so you can protect your family, your girl, and yourself. okay?” he paused, as if waiting for a response. but no response came. it was just him. him, a gun, in his car, deep in black spade territory in brooklyn.

pulling out his phone, he texted anita. i scheduled a lyft to pick you up and bring you to me around 7. i love you baby. see you tonight. 

thinking about seeing anita tonight, the thought crossed his mind that what he was doing could get him hurt. he promised anita that he wouldn’t go looking for answers, but here he was. this could get you killed. now he was thinking about his mom, drake, his little sister. he wondered if he was doing the right thing anymore, looking over to his glove box where he knew his gun was stashed for emergencies.

but then he remembered why he was doing this. 

when that spade came to his family cookout, z learned a few things. firstly, the spades knew where his mom and family lived. he could only assume, since he lived ten minutes away by foot and was there all the time, that the spades also knew where his apartment was. the fear of what else they might know was fueling this quest of his. what if they know about anita? where she lives? the posse forced drake in with legal fees; what if they threaten us? or drake? or hazeema? he also learned that the gang had something up their sleeve. the guy had been cocky, like he had information that the delphins didn’t. but what?

fear coursing through him, he took in a sharp breath and reached over to his glove compartment, yanking it open and grabbing the gun. he turned the safety off and put it in his hoodie, getting out of his car and beginning to walk around and look for the gangster that had called himself ‘deshawn’. he’d memorized the license plate of the suv the guy had been in so that he could find him later if he needed to, and he hoped that would help him now. 898-AB0D.

it took nearly a half hour, but finally, he saw the telltale lettering of the license plate. he’d worn black, hoping that flying gang colors would allow people trust him and give him information. an older man stood outside of the corner store, dressed normally, but with a black bandana in the window of his shop. 

“yo!” z called, walking over, “my brother, you know whose car that is?” he asked, pointing to the suv. the older man looked at him like he didn’t want to get involved. “boy, you lookin’ stupid axin’ questions like that in this neighborhood.” z licked his lips, knowing that he was going to have to be quick on his feet to get through this. “nah, you lookin’ stupid old man. you know who i am?” the man’s head cocked in confusion and z went on, hoping that this would work. “i’m a delphin. one of ulysses’ boys.” 

the man’s eyes widened and he started retreating toward his shop. “oh hell nah, ion want no smoke,” he said, opening his door and speaking, half-in and half-out. “whatever business you got wid deshawn, keep it outta my shop.” the door slammed and locked, the man flipping the sign from open to closed. z just stood there, dumbfounded. what the fuck was that?

sighing, z turned and looked around, trying to spot any clues as to what he would do next. i just want some fuckin’ answers.

as if his prayer was being answered, he suddenly saw a familiar face walking out of a small apartment across the street. “shit,” he hissed, ducking over into the alley because he didn’t want to be seen yet. okay, stay calm. go over, just talk. if he gets buck, just show the glizzy. you won’t ever have to shoot. it won’t come to that.

that’s what he had to tell himself. 

peering around the corner, he waited for deshawn to get close enough to his car, then jumped out and yanked him into the alley. he fought back immediately, pushing z forcefully back into the brick wall and pulling out a knife. z’s heart thudded roughly, memories of his last encounter with a blade nearly freezing him. but then deshawn hesitated once he saw his face. he grinned. “well well, if it ain’t lil mr. ‘we ain’t interested’ zachariaz delphin. you here to talk shop big man?”

anger flooding him, z locked his jaw and pulled out his gun. he didn’t aim it, but he wanted deshawn to know he had it. “i came here for some answers, and ‘less you wanna know what it feel like to get shot in the gut close range, i’d provide those mu’fuckin’ answers.” 

this wasn’t who z was, but he was terrified. he was tired of living life looking over his shoulder, wondering when the other shoe was gonna drop. when would the shadow posse and the black spades stop trying to recruit him when they failed to do so? when would he start being seen as more of a threat than a benefit? the idea of trying to get his life together seemed impossible with his family history hanging over his head. he needed to know what the black spades had up their sleeves so that he could take care of it and move on with his life.

deshawn was not amused. “you think i’m scared of some lil kid?” he growled, puffing his chest out as if daring z to shoot him. “you ain’t no thug, delphin. your daddy wants to make you one, but now? you trippin.”

the way that deshawn kept mentioning his dad was weird. no one had seen his father in new york city since he left his family, as far as z knew. “yo, you keep talkin’ bout my dad this, my dad that. what’s up with that? did you know him? is he still alive? what is it?”

he laughed at this. “alive?” he scoffed, taking a step closer. z’s brows furrowed, pointing the gun directly at deshawn’s head and cocking it as he took a step back. “don’t fuckin’ move.” 

deshawn grinned, sliding his knife back into his pocket and crossing his arms over his chest. “boy, yo daddy ain’t just alive. i just came outta his crib.”

the weight of what was said lingered in the air. z didn’t believe it. “you lyin’,” he shook his head. “you sayin’ he’s alive, he still in brooklyn, and he still a spade? and we just ain’t know about it in over ten years? bullshit,” he waved the gun, as if reminding him that he would shoot if he had to, “tell me the fuckin’ truth my dude, i’m losin’ my patience. you said yourself i got his temper, so start fuckin’ actin like it.”

“how did i know that yo mama’s favorite pie was pecan? who do you think ordered me to take it over? who knew what date y’all do family cook outs in summer?” the puzzle pieces were coming together and it felt like z’s entire world was going up in flames. deshawn continued, hoping that he could persuade z to do what his boss wanted him to do. “when uly left y’all, the cops was on him crazy. he go by a different name now, but everyone in the hood know who he really be. he lays low. he had the chance to betray all’a the spades if he woulda cooperated w’ twelve, so when he didn’t, he was rewarded. they gave him a new life. the condition was, he couldn’t be sloppy. no one could know.”

this was not the answer z had expected. not even an answer that had crossed his mind. he had to consciously keep his voice level, his eyes dark as he kept the gun on deshawn while he spoke. “what does he want?”

“his family.”

“well it’s too mu’fuckin’ late for that. he shoulda thought about that shit before.” shaking his head, z took a step in, putting the gun to deshawn’s forehead for added measure, lowering his voice to an intimidating hum. “you tell anyone i was here, n’ i’mma come back here n’ weigh you down with a clip. you try to hide, i’mma find you. you try to rat, i’mma keep you quiet. feel me?” his arm lowered slowly, watching deshawn as he stood there with his hands up. 

“yeah yeah, baby delphin. run back to mama in the heights. come back when you ready to play with the big boys.”

and with that, z shoved the gun into his hoodie and headed back to his car. he knew that deshawn wouldn’t hurt him, not if his dad wanted him alive, if his dad was his boss. that means he’s even deeper in than he was before.

once he got into his car, he started shaking and breathing hard, his adrenaline finally starting to die as he put the car in drive and whipped out as fast as he could. he didn’t know where he was going, but he knew he had to get the hell out of there before he did something he would regret.

[epicman52]

Concept posters for ‘Attack of the Killer Tomatoes’

DISCLAIMER: The following posters are imaginary concepts for what I believe is an actual film currently in early production at the time of this post being published. I am NOT associated in any way with the people who are making this new killer tomato movie, and probably never will be. The contents of all 5 of these posters do not represent the decision making of the real film’s creators in any way whatsoever. I myself made these posters purely for fun, and shouldn’t be taken seriously or mistaken for real movie posters.

There was a casting call for a new killer tomatoes movie on the franchise’s official website, so I decided to make some fake movie posters for a new Attack of the Killer Tomatoes reboot. (No idea if this film will be a reboot or a continuation of their current storyline, but I made these assuming that they are making a reboot)

Fast Poster Facts;

Each poster has a different arrangement of tomatoes and it's own unique tagline (Those were fun to come up with)

I took inspiration from some of the posters for Gremlins when making these, particulary the one with the shadow. That shadow, by the way, was made to resemble that one killer tomato on the original posters for the film. 

Since I was trying to make them simplistic, all five of these posters are pretty basic. Just various realistic tomato PNGs paired together with some Blood splatter PNGs (and in some, human limb PNGs) on a basic white background.

The film’s logo was created from a photo of the real logo taken from the original film’s opening titles. I edited out the background and changed the overall color of the photo to black. That way, it stands out against the white background. The only poster to not have a black logo is the one with the sea of tomatoes, in which I made the logo white to contrast with the red tomatoes.

I chose Sony's Columbia Pictures as the company making the film solely because of Seth Rogan. As Attack of the Killer Tomatoes was originally made as a spoof of B-Movies, Seth Rogan’s involvement with both Sausage Party and This is The End made him an excellent candidate for helming a Killer Tomatoes reboot. In fact, all five posters mention both of the two previously mentioned films.

The imaginary release date for the film is Thanksgiving, which basically means that it will come out either the Wednesday before Thanksgiving or the Friday after (AKA: Black Friday). Since it’s about killer food, and also because the holiday is just around the corner, the week of Thanksgiving seemed like the perfect time frame for a killer tomato reboot to be released (though you’d think it’d be released closer to July 4th, since all those cookouts require copious amounts of ketchup).

Reguarding this Killer Tomatoes reboot, I think that the killer tomatoes themselves should look less like the ones in the 3rd and 4th installments of the franchise, and more like the ones in the original, which were just normal tomatoes. Basically, I don’t want them to have large eyes, human-like facial appearances, or wear things like eyepatches. They should, however, have large mouths lined with razor sharp teeth. Hopefully, they could look something similar to this picture that I found online;

Creepy, right? Anyways, enjoy the posters. See you in the next post!

[carahealstheworld]

15 Things That Surprised Me My First 24 Hours In Uganda

I have now been in Uganda for a day and a half. In that time I have adjusted to the time here, exchanged money, gone shopping and a host of other things. I’m seriously trying to take this bit of time to vacation but I am learning a lot about myself and life in general. Here are the things that surprised me in the first 24 hours of being here:

1. How Quickly I Got Through Immigration- I am here on a tourist visa that is approved for 30 days. I thought there would be some long drawn out process like the ones you see in TV movies and here about from immigrants to the United States. I thought I would be grilled with questions about why I was here for a month on a tourist visa, who I was going to see, where I was staying, and all the medical supplies in my suitcase. The only questions I got were Passport? Visa? Yellow Card? Then they took my picture and sent me on my way. Overall, I was through immigration in 5 minutes or less. 

2. How Quickly I Forgot About Personal Space- Personal space is an American thing. If there are 2 strangers on an elevator, they stand on opposite ends. Two strangers on a bench, sit on opposite ends. Passing someone in public? Give them as much space as possible. Here in Uganda, all of that has gone out the window. It doesn’t bother me to be shoulder to shoulder with everyone else. Even when I’m on my phone. In general, everyone else you’re standing shoulder to should with here is minding their business and not worried about what you’re doing. 

3. Everyone Is A Friend When Everyone Is A Stranger- Since I was traveling alone, I made conversation with anyone who would talk to me. Some of those people were Americans going to other countries in Africa or areas of Uganda. Some of those people were Ugandans from different areas of the country. However, everyone was friendly. Everyone here is also a hugger. I’ve been hugged by many people here including merchants and hotel staff. They are all friends. 

4. That I Need To Learn More World Languages- The very first time that someone spoke to me in a language I didn’t understand, happened here. It was a European gentleman so I believe he thought I was from Africa and spoke to me in French (a lot of African countries speak French or do their schooling in French). I know English. I know a lot of Spanish. I know some Afrikaans (and it is very similar to English). I know very little Arabic. I know pretty much no French but I should probably get a move on it if I want to continue world traveling. The second time someone spoke to me in a language I didn’t understand, it was a security guard. I believe the language was Lugandan but I have no idea. 

5. How Quickly I Lost My Was Of Luxury- Taking a warm shower is a luxury that we often take for granted. We are used to just turning the tap and have warm water. That’s not always the case here. Sometimes water has to be warmed so you have to turn on hot water 10-15 min before you shower. I was somewhere that didn’t have that option. I took a shower anyway. It turned out, I just needed to least the water run a little but. It did eventually get warm but I really didn’t care. 

6. Telemundo...In English-So I’m not really surprised that they have TV in Africa. Nor am I surprised that they have “Junk TV” or Telemundo. However, I was surprised that they have Telemundo in English here. The signs and things on the screen are still in Spanish though. 

7.  The People Of Flint, MI (and any other place in the US with lead infested pipes) Have It More Difficult Than Some Africans- I know this is a VERY strange thing to say but I am a graduate of THEE Social Justice HBCU, Philander Smith College, so I had to mention something about social justice (and issue you a call to action since I never stop serving others). I said this one particularly because I have to brush my teeth with bottled water while I am here. Have you ever brushed your teeth with bottled water? Do you know how difficult that is when you’re used to being able to turn on the tap? I want you to try it for one week. Seven full days. Brush your teeth with bottled water because we often don’t understand what we don’t experience (and if you’re really adventurous don’t use your tap at all for a week--use only bottled water for cooking, cleaning, bathing, brushing, washing clothes, washing hair, etc. Save the receipts and find out how expensive and unrealistic it is to do everyday). Once you have, I want you to contact your senators and representatives in Washington DC. Tell them about your experience and how no Americans should have to live that way. Push them to create legislation to rectify this issue. If you don’t think this works or will work, I encourage you to watch the movie “Toilet: Ek Prem Katha.” It’s in Hindi but there are subtitles in English. You’ll understand after you watch. 

8. There’s No Reason To Fear Foreign Food- When we travel different places or even visit someone’s house who comes from a different culture, we tend to have an inherent fear of unfamiliar food. The benefit of the world being connected (or maybe the benefit of being American) is that you will always find some type of familiar food. I happened to have had eggs, bacon and toast for breakfast and a fried fish burrito bowl (yes I had Mexican food in Africa) for dinner. Don’t fear it. 

9. Most Of The Houses I’ve Seen Here Are Bigger And Nicer Than Mine- I’m not saying that there are not poor people here. I’m not saying that everyone here is rich. I’m also not saying that my family is poor (We’re not rich either so don’t be asking us for money). I’m just saying there are really nice houses here that are bigger than my house in the US. 

10. The Beauty of Simplicity-Most things here are pretty simple. There are some elaborate things but for the most part its simple and beautiful. There’s simple locks. Simple doors. Simple gates with guards. Simply beautiful simplicity. 

11. Police Guns-It wasn’t surprising to me that the police here carry guns. After all, I am American, I haven’t been living under a rock and we have many issues with police use of force and firearms (This isn’t a political statement or my opinion. Look at the numbers compared to other countries of the same or larger size. The numbers tell all). What surprised me was the size of the guns. Police here carry riffles. They have guns the size of their leg at their waist. 

12. There’s Literally Security Everywhere- When my professor came inside the airport to meet me, she had to through a metal detector. That was just to walk inside the airport. She wasn’t coming through security to meet me at my gate or see me through immigration. She was just coming inside the door to walk me to the car to the hotel. It didn’t end there though. We went to the mall as well and also had to go through security. Although it didn’t happen in the first 24 hours, we also had to go through security at church and a fancy hotel we briefly visited. At church and the hotel they also checked the car we were in. 

13. My Adaptability-People have always told me that I am quite adaptable. They say it in letters of recommendation and it even showed up as one of my strengths in Strengths Finder. So why did it surprise me? Because everything became so normalized to me almost immediately. Driving on the left and passing on the right? Normal. Everyone hugging me as if they haven’t seen me in years? Normal. Majority of people looking like me? Normal. I’ve just adapted super quickly and it’s surprised me.

14. The Bugs Here Clap Back- So I will tell the entire story later but for now, I will say that there was something squirming in my room in the shadows. I had no idea if it was a small snake or a bug. It turned out to be a bug and it clapped back when I tried to get it out. It turned in to a huge ordeal. Security and the hotel manager ended up coming to help. 

Number 15 is really for Millennials. I will caution you that there is some censored language in this one because it is in a common phrase. So if you want to stop reading now, I will not be offended. If you do keep reading and later find yourself offended, DO NOT attempt to contact my parents, another elder relative, my pastor or whoever else to discuss your disdain. You. Were. Warned. 

15. I Learned Where The Phrase “Black People S**t” Came From- This one adds a little more comedy to the already comical bug incident that occurred (which I promise to recap). So we’re driving around Kampala, the capital city of Uganda. I’m taking in the sites, the people and the buildings. I’m looking at traffic and people randomly gathering and everything else I was seeing. My literal though was, “This is some black people s**t.” And I mean that in the best way possible. It’s like all the stuff that we do in America that we call “n***a rigged” or “black people s**t” is written in our DNA and has been passed down to us for centuries. I’m serious. I wish you could see my face as I type this and hear me say this. I was literally watching people gather on the side of the street to eat food and party. I promise you they were having a cookout. They have what they call bodabodas (motor bike taxis) here. Y’all know most motorcycles can have 1 driver and 1 passenger. I bet you never seen a whole family ride on one though! I have and bodas are a little smaller than motorcycles. You’d be surprised at how many people can fit on one. Like how some of y’all try to squeeze your entire lineage in the back seat of a car. And the traffic. Y’all! These bodas drive wherever! Get in where you fit in at its finest. They don’t stop for traffic signals. If there’s a space between cars for the to drive in they do. If they have to drive on a side walk they will. It’s just the blackest thing you have ever seen or heard of. Why? These are OUR people. We do black people s**t and think nothing of. 

I hope you keep reading to learn more about my adventures. 

Bug story and pictures coming soon!

Be Blessed!!!!

[fukette]

Things I Never Expected To Say Vol. 32: I Agree With Don Lemon (?)

I like to imagine that all the opinions I hold about people are stored in a single, dusty file cabinet that looks like it was bought at Office Max during a clearance sale in 1995. Each cabinet holds hundreds of alphabetically organized manilla folders whose contents contain my thoughts on a myriad of different things. Under the letter 'A", you'll find 'Adam Sandler: A Living Argument For Forced Retirement (Or, push comes to shove, euthanasia.) Under 'B' you'll most like find 'Butthair Shaving and How To Avoid The Brown Ring Of Pain.' And so on, but I've always considered the manilla folder in which I hold all opinions about Don Lemon to be as concise as it was unfavorable. Which is to say that it is essentially a simple statement reading "Glad to see a black man on air in a predominately white industry but (and this is a Nicki Minaj's ass 2 days after injections sized BUT) his unceasing side-hustle as devil's advocate combined with his Instagram thirst trap level of fame whoring had made the man as unpalatable as jerk chicken prepared in a Mormon household." I remained steadfast in my avoidance in headlines that contained his name like most people avoid debit cards that contain Russell Simmons'. And this has served me well for longer than I have the ability to recall right now because, well, I've been hitting the Fruit By The Foot and Hennessey pretty hard the last few hours. Lately, though, I've noticed....

Don Lemon will boss up on a bitch in a Facebook minute.

Gotta say, much like a Trump presidency and any combination of food from CookOut that doesn't immediately have you googling legitimate exorcists that specialize in haunted toilets, I didn't see this coming. But so far I've been absolutely tickled negro at the combative incisiveness Don Lemon has exhibited himself to have in the shadow of President Orange Julius. Incisiveness that has done much to, well, not actually do anything to diminish the unceasing campaign of low-expectation, dime-store coonery he's been waging all these years, but enough to at least get me to crane my head over to a TV with CNN on the background with an expression of wonder because I have no fucking idea what it looks like when I see this man doing his job. The latest instance of this occurred during a discussion panel of talking heads covering the used condom placed in America's can of Mountain Dew that is the Trump presidency. The bell tolled for thee when expired deli meat at a white supremacist potluck Jefferey Lord described President Donald Trump as the "Martin Luther King of health care" which, as grossly misrepresentative of MLK and outright insulting to his legacy as it is, what does that actually mean? Like in real life and shit? Was Dr. King's I Have A Dream speech in reality about lower compound percentages when factoring the cost of generic prescription drugs for a chronic illness? Was his March on Washington, in fact, a metaphor for the unnecessary amount of steps it takes to find a primary care physician? When he was beaten to within an each of his life by police and even civilians who, in that era, could be accurately described as 'mildly casual racists", was it part of a guerilla advertising campaign aimed at showing consumers what a 'beating' they took on monthly premiums?

Maybe.

Then again, definitely not.

Despite Jeffrey Lord handing the entire CNN panel a solid legal defense of "The Nigga Had It Coming," they used their intellectual acumen and words to dress this man down like Cinderella at Neiman Marcus when the credit cards get declined. I expected this from the other pundits, but not Don Lemon (See: thirstiness mentioned above and/or dime store coonery.) Either way, I'm here for it, and as glad as I am to have consensus with Don, I'll still be watching with some degree of suspicion waiting for him to turn like the tuna casserole at a strip club buffet.