#there was slight corrosion but nothing too bad

[jamboreeartsupplies]

Golden Hour Photoshoot with The Boy!!!

[i-hug-exploder-shanks]

Hai! I saw u might be taking requests for characters, and I was wondering if you might do something for Shaxx? Maybe a Solar female or gender neutral titan and maybe something that’s fluffy? Maybe our guardian got hurt and needs a bit of down time, and who better than with our Crucible?

My character is a solar Titan and I too love and adore Shaxx! Thank you for the prompt! I wrote this like a reader insert using 'you' for the character. Also a bit of Saint and Osiris tossed in. I have some other Shaxx things I'll be posting soon too! Please enjoy!

"IF YOU KEEP DYING ITS BECAUSE YOU HAVEN'T THROWN ENOUGH GRENADES!" Shaxx's booming voice filled the courtyard of the tower startling a few new lights, causing one of them to fall off an edge they had been peering over curiously. 

Saint snorted. Warlock behavor. A titan would have thrown themselves off the tower with purpose. The slight grin it brought him faded as he approached the crucible handler's domain though. He wished he had a better reason for being there. 

"Lord Shaxx you are scaring the new lights again. That one fell off the tower in fear of your mighty voice." He stated, gesturing back at the resurrected Guardian who eeped in embarrassment and hid behind their buddy. 

"Death is a learning opportunity for a Guardian! Hopefully they learn which side of the railing they prefer to stay on." Shaxx laughed unapologetically.

"What brings you to me today Saint? Did you want in on some of the crucible bets being run? Or are you intrested in a bout yourself?" He asked cheerfully. Saint shook his head. 

"Ah nothing quite so fun today unfortunately. The Guardian is unwell. She was helping Osiris with some research and it has led to her being infected with some sort of flu her ghost can't heal. Osiris says she should heal from it naturally but she is quite miserable in the mean time." He admitted.

"The Guardian? No wonder she hadn't come to see me. No matter. After this match is finished I'll go find her. Thank you for the news." He said clapping Saint on the shoulder avoiding the spiked pauldron. 

"Of course. This also will allow me to convince Osiris to get some rest and not feel so guilty. It is not solely for your benefit." He chuckled but headed back feeling pleased he was correct in his assumptions over the relationship between Crucible handler and the Guardian. 

"IF YOU HAVE A ROCKER LAUNCHER THEN YOU SHOULD USE IT! ARE YOU AFRAID OF YOUR OWN POWER GUARDIAN?" 

A booming shout followed him and he grinned. He'd have much to tease the guardian about later once she was feeling better. 

Curled up on the couch and wrapped in a blanket with a box of tissues on one side and a fire extinguisher on the other the Guardian sniffled pathetically. You had been helping Osiris study some new variant of thrall when the thing had, as usual, exploded into goop all over you. It was disgusting and smelled bad and was slightly corrosive- of course. The hive were always smelly and gross and slightly corrosive. You really needed to stop taking missions dealing with them. 

But that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was that some of it got in your mouth. Just the thought made you want to purge herself with solar fire from the inside out.

Turns out, some sort of weird alien bacteria was there and so by the time you got cleaned up and swore to be like your partner and never take your helmet off again the symptoms had set in.

Fever, check. Runny and stuffy nose at the same time somehow? Check. Sneezing flames out your nose like some sort of solar fueled dragon? Apparently also check. 

Osiris had thankfully not been standing in front of you when you found that last one out. The last thing you wanted was to have to explain to Saint that you accidentally murdered his husband via sneezing too hard. A sad Saint-14 made everyone sad.

Osiris insisted that with a few more samples of the hive goop that had made you sick he could process it into an antibody your ghost could scan then use to fix you. But that meant waiting for your fireteam to go collect the goop required without getting sick themselves. It was taking some time to find the right hive thralls too. 

Letting out a pitiful whine you sniffled hard and took a sip of the water that had been left by your cacoon of misery. Then you heard the door open and looked up in hope that Osiris had returned with news and a cure. 

"Guardian? My love? Saint stopped by and told me you weren't feeling well." Shaxx announced and you made a noise of shame and tried to hide away in yoyr blanket cacoon. 

"Ah, I see you have decided to become one of those Eliksni hatchlings you adore so much and swaddle yourself." He said teasingly and it was the only warning you got before he was scooping you and all the blankets up into his arms with a strength that made you melt. 

"I would make sure she's facing the opposite direction if she sounds like she's going to sneeze. She already almost lit Osiris on fire." Your betrayer of a ghost warned him and you stuck an arm out to flip the bot off making Shaxx laugh. 

You were distracted by how you could feel his laugh rumble through his chest being pressed so close against it.

"Don't worry Guardian. It wouldn't be my first death to your mighty flames. Here, I brought soup for you. I thought it might help you feel a little better." He murmured and you thiught he was going to set you in the seat but instead he sat down at the table and tucked you into his lap. 

Blushing you poked your head out. "Ah there's my beauty. I was worried this nee illness had turned you into a pile of blankets." He teased as he pulled the bowl of soup closer to you so you could reach it. 

You swatted his arm with a look but your stomach rumbled at the promise of substance and you eagerly reached out for a spoonful. It was warm and savory and felt good on your abused throat. 

"Do you like it? I was worried I might have added too much pepper." He admitted and you looked up at him surprised. Pointing at the food then at him, you widened your eyes trying to ask if he really made it. 

He chuckled. "I did, though I admit I followed a recipe I got from Saladin ages ago. So I was briefly concerned I might have been making you a pot of wolf food." He said rubbing your back through the blanket as you sighed at him fondly but returned to enjoying the soup. 

By the time the bowl was empty you were warm and starting to doze as Shaxx recounted the stars of the day's crucible matches, the soft rumble of his voice and the repetitive motion on your back soothing. 

When you woke again, you found yourself in bed, tucked against Shaxx's chest feeling a little better. 

"Good news! Osiris got enough samples. I can heal you now!" Your Ghost cheered and opened up to bathe you in a ray of light. You could feel your sinuses clear and your throat heal as well as a headache you hadn't even realized tou had fade away. You smiled thankfully at your ghost but tucked yourself back against your partner to nap a little longer.

[holdmecloser-gandydancer]

1 (“Why…why did you just take off your shirt?") with Magnus and whoever :O??? thank u <3 -ise

from this prompt list! Still accepting!

Barry tosses the toolbox to the ground with a little more force than entirely necessary. He casts a glance up at the darkening sky and shakes his head. At least it’s just a normal storm. He can handle a normal storm.

Fat raindrops slowly start to pelt the deck of the ship, making the metal ping with every impact. He glares at the dented panel door on Davenport’s steering column. Slight correction: he can handle a normal storm when he isn’t trying to fix the steering drag for a five-ton spacecraft. He throws on the embarrassingly wide-brimmed hat Lup stole from Taako for him to use. (“Come on, Bear, you don’t wanna get rain in your eyes.” “Also don’t want to wear this.” “But you’ll look so cute!”). Barry’s not proud to admit that that was enough to convince him. And okay, it is a good idea, he realizes in this minute. After rifling through the toolbox for a moment, Barry retrieves some screwdrivers and gets to work.

-

Barry groans in frustration at the wiring in front of him. He’s been working at the steering column for the better part of two hours and he’s still no closer to stopping the drift. Technically speaking, it’s nothing that’s going to cause a catastrophe for the team. Not yet, anyway. But Barry’s of the attitude that it’s best to fix problems as they arise. When the problems have solutions, that is. He’s convinced that the Starblaster is simply going to pull to the left until the end of time. But give him some credit, he’s a scientist, not an engineer. Strictly speaking, he’s not qualified for this.

“Barry?”

He snaps his head up and finds himself face to face with Magnus. “Uh, hey.”

“Why’re you wearing Taako’s hat?” Magnus raises an eyebrow and Barry immediately becomes self-conscious; he’s certain he looks ridiculous in this moment.

“You know, I think the context I’d have to give would make the answer not even worth hearing, at this point,” It’s not raining anymore, he realizes. He sets Taako’s hat beside the toolbox.

Magnus nods. He knows sometimes it’s best to just take Barry’s word on things like this. He recalls a few cycles ago when Barry went on an hour-long sidebar to explain that the dryer was on the fritz. “So. Whatcha doing?”

“Trying to fix the steering column? See, the Institute didn’t exactly build this thing for finesse flight. A-and that would have been fine for a two-month science mission. But it’s less good when Davenport’s gotta keep doing the fancy flying to keep us from being consumed by an evil dark cloud every year or so. It’s not too bad now but there is a concern that this could be a compounding issue? Trouble is that I just can’t seem to get it to work right,” Barry gives the exterior of the steering column a half-hearted kick.

Magnus crouches down next to the exposed wiring and squints. “What’ve you tried so far?”

“Uh, I cleaned off the connections, there was some corrosion to deal with. They all work, they’re just not working the right way.” Barry regards Magnus with some confusion. Nothing against the guy, but he hardly seems the type to understand how to fix the single most impressive piece of engineering Barry’s ever seen.

“Mmhmm. Well, it’s probably an issue with some of the ball joints up in there, maybe even the steering linkage itself.” Magnus says, pushing some wires to the side and peering inside the column. After a moment, he stands and motions for Barry to follow him. Barry obliges, scrambling to bring the toolbox. Magnus leads Barry down into the Starblaster, down past the living spaces, deep into the bowels of the ship until they reach a room full of machinery and spare parts.

He looks at Magnus blankly. “How did you—”

Magnus shrugs. “Sometimes things start clanking down here in the middle of the night and I’ve gotten really good at figuring out how to make them stop. Also, since none of the shit down here’s engine bits, I don’t feel too bad about poking down around here to get parts to fix the dryer.” He glances around the large room brimming with mechanical parts, some looking shiny and sleek, others looking to be grimy and older than the ship itself.

Barry steps forward and picks up a small cluster of gears. “I gotta say, Magnus, I feel bad for not giving you mo—” His face twists in confusion for a moment. “Why…Magnus. Why’d you just take off your shirt?”

Magnus quickly folds the shirt he was wearing not even ten seconds ago and drops it on the floor. “I gotta get in that back corner, that’s actually where a ton of the serviceable parts of the ship are at. Not the smartest way to construct the damn thing, I’ll say that.”

“Uh huh. And the shirt?”

“Oh! Yeah uh, I fixed the dryer but the washer is…it’s broken and I don’t want to try to handwash grease out of my shirt,” Magnus says, giving a sheepish grin. Barry sets the gears down and taps his fingertips together, resisting the immediate urge to wipe his hand off on some article of clothing.

“Now wait a minute, if you’re suddenly mister vehicle proficiency, why have I been putting my head through a wall every time something on this damn ship broke?”

“Because Cap said you’re like, some kind of mechanical whiz and that I ‘am a menace to anything requiring a steady hand.’” Magnus shrugs as he begins his pilgrimage to the back of the room.

Barry scoffs. “I lied!”

Magnus snorts and turns back to look at Barry. “You what?”

“I’m a great scientist but I don’t know shit about engineering! And I barely know anything about magic! Lup and Taako have been helping me out since they’re like, both supremely trained or whatever.” Barry follows Magnus from a distance, hoping to skirt any grime and dirt that may try to cling to his clothes.

“Nah, dude, the story they gave Dav about their tutor when they were kids? Big old lie, it turns out.”

“What.”

Magnus nods. “Yup. All self-taught. So, if they can be that good at magic with no instruction, you can get that good at fixing shit with a little help from yours truly!”

“You really think so?”

“Barry, I know so. I learned a ton of basic shit from my ma, since all our stuff was always on the fritz. Not exactly the same kind of stuff we see here but the way I figure, there’s only so many ways to build a machine. Now, let’s get this taken care of so you can take a crack at the washer.”

[aminiatureworld]

A Sea of Fragments V

Word Count: 2,635

Warnings: Swearing

Author’s Note: I don’t know how I went so long without updating! Honestly I really enjoyed writing this chapter. Things are starting to get dramatic, and I’m upping the ante a little bit. As a treat.

Scaramouche exited the dining tent as quickly as possible, storming off towards his tent with urgency. He hated eating around other people; the noise, the insipid conversation, the amount of imbeciles trying desperately to get in his good graces. It was agony, and the sooner he got away from it the better. Besides, he had something vastly more important to do this evening.

Entering his tent Scaramouche took some odd sense of pride from the fact he had beaten you to it. Sitting down in his chair he sighed, propping his head up with his hand and allowing his thoughts to drift for a moment. He had to admit that he was incredibly curious as to what he was going to witness today. He had already gotten a glimpse of your ability during your first meeting, but between the tense atmosphere and the barbed conversation he hadn’t been able to really focus on what exactly you were doing. Your terrible physical state at the time certainly hadn’t helped, as you had looked as if you were going to faint any moment. Scaramouche was glad there would be no fear of that this time.

What must it be like to look into the future? Scaramouche had to admit that he envied your ability slightly. Though you had seemed less than enthusiastic about it, Scaramouche couldn’t believe that you truly begrudged the ability to see into the future. If you did then you were surely a greater fool than he was already aware of. Even with your revelation that it was hardly an exact science as to which future would happen, even the slight ability to see what might come to pass would be an incredible asset to the Tsaritsa and her goal.

Besides, Scaramouche couldn’t truly bring himself to believe that your bedraggled state had been solely due to seeing into the future. How much energy could be expended by sitting into a chair and closing one’s eyes? In a world of war and battle and death the idea that something so still could be so taxing was absolutely ridiculous. No, there was no reason for him to worry, or for him not to begrudge you something that was so obvious a blessing from the Seven.

“Scaramouche?”

Your voiced pierced through the air, pulling the Harbinger slowly out of his thoughts. He hadn’t realized how engrossed he had been in his own musings, and the sudden pull back to reality cause irritation to once more surface within him. He quickly managed to push it down however, the reflexive annoyance replaced with an anticipation that couldn’t be completely hidden. Gesturing for you to sit in the chair across from him Scaramouche sat up straighter.

“Is there anything that must be done before we begin?” The Harbinger wasn’t used to such pleasantries, but this time he figured it was probably worth asking. Seeing you shake your head he nodded curtly. “Good. Then shall we begin?”

“If you insist,” you mumbled, voice lacking it usual sharpness. The nervous feeling that you emitted the first time he saw you in the forest appeared to have returned from out of thin air, and you shifted in your seat awkwardly.

“Is something wrong?”

“No! No, just, I just need to relax.”

“Take all the time you need.”

You shot him a look with very little behind it. Breathing in deeply you closed your eyes, letting your head tilt backwards slightly. Sitting back in his chair, just realizing that he’d been leaning forward this whole time, Scaramouche watched as your breath began to slow and you appeared to drift into some sort of trance.

 Closing your eyes you willed your mind to emptiness. From the moment you had entered the Harbinger’s tent once more you’d been seized with anxiety. You never wanted to be in this position again, divining for others, taxing yourself over and over for goals and wishes not your own. Not to mention the identity of your current employer; Scaramouche’s Harbinger status aside relaxing in front of this man seemed nigh on impossible. Letting your eyes flit this way and that you didn’t even bother to try and look him in the face. Not when what you were about to do loomed over you.

Looking into the future was bad enough, doing it in front of Scaramouche was even worse. You tended to lose control of yourself while looking into the future. Falling out of furniture, mumbling things randomly, all those things were possible. And though the people in your village had gotten used to your half-trances you were sure that Scaramouche wouldn’t quite appreciate you accidentally faceplanting into the table or sliding onto the ground the way the people you had grown up in proximity to would.

Letting yourself sigh once more you allowed your conscious to fade, shoving aside all those problems to deal with it later. The present would always exist, but for now you had to cast your eyes upon the possible futures. The world darkened around you, turning into a sea of stars which fell down, down, down. Letting yourself tumble around you finally saw fragments begin to form in front of your eyes. Stretching out your hands you reached for the one that seemed to shine the clearest, reached for the best outcome that you could find. Always start with the clearest ones first, for the muddier the fragment, the worse the suffering, the more energy must be expended. It was information that had been extracted after years of trial and error, and now you let it guide you as you sought out what you needed to know.

You were standing in a deadly quiet room. Paper doors surrounded you, the moonlight filtering through them casting long shadows, making it look like you were trapped in an odd sort of prison. If so, it was a very cozy prison. All the hallmarks of domesticity were there; pillows thrown this way and that, books shoved into various nooks and crannies on a small shelf, a table which housed various small clay figures. There was a hallway to the right of you, and from it you could hear the faint sound of snoring. Taking a few steps forward you studied the small shelves hammered into the wall, trying to look for something that seemed to house a great deal of elemental energy. Letting your elemental sight guide you, you slowly turned around.

At the other end of the room was a small table. Upon it was a small red cushion, and upon the cushion was a mirror. The circular glass was surrounded by an emerald frame, dotted with small gems and cracked in certain spots. Though it might have appeared like an ordinary enough family heirloom you could tell that it was infused with power, a power so great it seemed to be leeching the rest of the energy around it, a black hole, warping the fragment around it. Taking a step back, afraid of it even in this imagined future, you felt the energy become even stronger, even more corrosive. Blinking slowly your eyes finally removed themselves from the scene.

Looking around at the other fragments around you, you tried for the next clear fragment. In it you found yourself wandering the streets of the village, right near the inn where you had been hiding out until recently. Although nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary initially you were soon pulled towards the rooftops. You could see a Fatui recruit, though which one you were hardly sure. Clad in black their face was a sharp contrast to the night around them, pale and twisted into a frown.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit. What am I going to tell Lord Scaramouche? Where is it? Where is the damn thing?!” Sighing the Fatui member climbed back down from the roof, something not very difficult as the building was a rather squat one. Running into the night you saw him look back once. The village was as silent as ever.

You pulled yourself back into the liminal space around you. Looking around at the various fragments scattered about you felt yourself frowning. How many there were! It would take ages to find such specific information as where the mirror was located. Letting yourself drift you closed your eyes. You would just have to pick one at random. Reaching out your hand you felt the cool shard of a fragment against your fingertips. Opening your eyes you let out a strangled sort of noise, faced with one of the darkest shards floating around you.

What you were transported too was absolute chaos, chaos and a crushing weight pressing upon you. You weren’t supposed to be seeing this, you really were supposed to be seeing this. Stumbling around you tried to focus on one thing. The noise, that was the best thing at the moment. Ignoring the flames that licked at the houses and ground around you, the fleeing people and the choking smoke, you tried to pick up on any piece of information.

“Did you manage to get it before it went up into flames?”

“Fuck, no I didn’t! Did you see that house? No one would fucking survive something like that!”

“I’m not sure if we’re going to even survive.”

“Fuck, no this isn’t how I wanted it to end. I didn’t even get a promotion.”

“You three! Stop dawdling and get out of here! We’ve already caused enough trouble.”

“The village is a goner anyways.”

“Glad it’s not, fuck, glad it’s not mine.”

The voices faded into the cacophony, quickly replaced with more unpleasant sounds.

“Mama!”

“Did you see my husband?”

“No, I have to get back in there!”

“Your books are a fucking goner.”

“Come on sweetie, you have to move. I know, it really hurts, doesn’t it? Come on sweetie, we’ll get something to make it better, but you have to move.”

Voices piled on top of one another, roaring and mixing together. Opening your eyes you stared as people rushed all around you, some covered in soot, others nursing horrific burns. The noise was louder still, the weight crushing the air out of your lungs. Clapping your hands over your ears you felt your mind start to go blank with panic. You needed to get out of here. You needed to remember how to get out of here.

A muffled sound seemed to reach above you. Looking up into the burning sky you reached towards it, almost as if you might tear through the papery-thin night back to safety. Taking a deep breath you tried to open your eyes, to go back into the space that you usually occupied. But the weight was so large, the distortion so strong, you found yourself trapped, as if in a nightmare. The sound called out again and you continued to reach towards it.

Please. Please.

“…”

 Scaramouche watched as you seemed to collapse in on yourself, tumbling out of your chair and onto the floor, barely missing the table in front of you. Your breathing was ragged, irregular, and you seemed to be trying to say something. Panic gripped the Harbinger, blood rushing to his ears. Pushing himself out of him own chair he knelt down next to you.

“Hey, hey!”

Shaking your shoulders he went to pinch your arm. You skin seemed to be cold to the point of heat, and you made no move of recognition as his nails dug into your arm. Shaking his head Scaramouche tried calling out one more time.

“Wake up. Can you hear me? Wake up!” Shaking your shoulders once more he tried to suppress the panic that seemed to be driving him, though his thoughts were in such disarray he couldn’t be entirely sure whether or not it was working. A myriad of things leapt through his mind; his plan was going to fail, the effort took in tracking you down appeared to be worthless, were you really going to die? Surely you wouldn’t. He needed you for his plans. Besides, the idea of you dying seemed somewhat terrifying, lying in stark contrast to all the other people that Scaramouche had used and thrown away. The idea of your death seemed much more visceral, much more real.

“Hey. Look at me. I told you that you never even look at me. Open your eyes and look at me. Weren’t you supposed to be blessed by the gods? You can’t even look at me.”

Scoffing Scaramouche glanced towards the tent. He was going to have to call a healer at this rate.

The sudden feeling of someone grabbing his wrist caused the Harbinger to hiss. Looking back towards you he found his eyes met with yours. You seemed to be half wild with, something. Scaramouche couldn’t tell what lay behind the look in your eyes, but it surely seemed something close to panic. Breathing heavily you let out a whisper.

“It’s going to tear you apart.”

“What are you talking about?” Scaramouche felt anger rush through him as the situation seemed to crash into him. “Is that normal? What in Teyvat happened.”

“The mirror, the thing, it’s not normal. It… it warps everything around it. I, I can’t go back again. I can’t look again, I can’t find it again. It’s too heavy; it’ll tear everything apart.”

“You’re not making any sense! Tell me, is this mirror what we’re looking for? Where is it?”

But you said nothing, instead letting your grip tighten on Scaramouche’s wrist as you stared at him. The intensity of your gaze seemed to throw cold water on the Harbinger for a moment, and he quieted down. Everything had gone unexpectedly, what was he supposed to do now? A part of him simply wanted to haul you up and push you out of his tent, towards the healers or towards your own tent he didn’t care. Another part of him however wanted to ask you if you were alright, wanted to know what had frightened you so much, wanted to know why now suddenly you were staring into his eyes, almost as if you were trying to divine his thoughts. The more you looked into the future the odder you became, and the more Scaramouche found himself unable to understand you.

“Do, do you need a healer.”

“No. Just, let me breathe, just let me breathe for a moment.”

You closed your eyes, placing one of your arms on top of your forehead. The grip on Scaramouche’s wrist lessened and you let your arm slump to the group, fingers curled slightly against your palm.

Scaramouche wasn’t sure what caused him to do such a thing, whether it was fear of you having another episode or something else. Yet before he was entirely aware of what he was doing he placed palm on top of yours, allowing it to rest there for a moment. Your hand felt warm against his, still slightly clammy from what had just passed. He couldn’t necessarily call it comfortable, but he nevertheless didn’t draw away.

Staring down at you the Harbinger wondered once more what you had seen. More than that he thought about your expression when you woke up. Expression panicked, eyes wide, gaze full of fear and urgency and something else. It seemed to be the first time you had stared him right in the face without hesitancy. Were your expressions always so intense when you looked someone directly into their eyes? It was uncomfortable, but it always also something else, intriguing, or something like that.

He wondered if you would look at him directly again. He wondered if your words were truly worth heeding. And once more he once more wondered why he, a Harbinger, would kneel in the dirt and trampled grass to make sure you woke up.

[kurokoros]

appetence (part 1) | bakugou katsuki

Rated: M

Words: 4.8K

Pairing: katsuki bakugou x fem!reader

Summary: Appetence: longing or desire. A mission to track down a villain leaves you and Bakugou in a rather… compromising situation. It’s going to be a long twenty-four hours.

AN: I have zero explanations for this one either. I just felt like writing a smutty fic with Bakugou and the reader locked in a building for twenty four hours. Queue the kinky smut. Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist for future chapters! I’ll try to update once a week, but it depends on how long the chapters get! I’m aiming for 4-5 chapters, but again, we’ll see!

Warnings: smut, language, aphrodisiacs, marathon!sex (future chapters)

XXX

As a Pro Hero, you’re no stranger to potentially hazardous situations. Tracking an A rank criminal isn’t exactly a new experience. In fact, most of these missions go exactly the same way. Mind-numbingly boring stakeouts that can last for hours until you can verify the presence of your target. A sixty second window between verifying the presence of said target and all hell breaking loose. And, of course, the part where all hell breaks loose because no one can understand the concept of a stealth mission. Stakeouts you can handle, for the most part. While boring, at least you aren’t actively being punched, stabbed, or shot at, so you consider it a minor win most of the time. The conversation is never great, but you can deal with that. And, really, you can’t complain about having a six feet wall of solid muscle to back you up.

But why the hell did you have to get stuck with Ground Zero?

You cast a glance at the other Pro out of the corner of your eye, your mouth twisting into a frown when you see his agitated expression. He looks halfway to blowing a gasket already, and you’ve hardly been here for an hour. At this rate, the two of you aren’t going to last until the target slips up.

It’s not that you dislike Bakugou. That’s not it at all. Frankly, you usually enjoy working with the brash, temperamental man. He’s a good Hero: smart, strong, capable. He always watches your back when you need him to—and you can’t deny that he’s some pretty great eye-candy, considering your situation. But he’s also incredibly impatient. And watching him pace around like a caged animal isn’t exactly helping your own irritation at being stuck in a cramped, ram-shackled building, in the rain, waiting to catch a glimpse of a villain that might not even be here.

It’s going to be a very long night.

“Would you sit down?” you snap at him, tearing your eyes from the compound you’re supposed to be staking out once again. He shoots you an irritated look, and you sigh, shifting in your seat. “Please? You’re making me claustrophobic.” It’s like he’s trying to make you antsy. Usually, stakeouts aren’t this bad, but something about the shitty location and the shitty weather--and the fact that he’s close enough for you to feel the heat rolling off him--have you a little on edge.

Something in Bakugou’s eyes shifts, his glare losing it’s bite, but then he snorts. Shuffling back to where you’re sitting near the small window of the hideout, he does as you ask, though he doesn’t look happy about it. Whatever. You’re just glad he doesn’t seem to be in an arguing mood right now. 

“This is fucking stupid,” he grumbles under his breath. You probably wouldn’t have heard him if there wasn’t exactly two inches of space between you. His shoulder brushes against yours as he crosses his arms, firm muscle flexing beneath his costume.

You ignore your little flicker of disappointment over the fact that he’s wearing his winter costume.

Figuring he’s complaining about the waiting, you say, “Regardless, we can’t just go charging in there, Ground Zero.” This time, you keep your gaze locked on the building Cobra is supposed to be in, watching for any signs of movement at all. Nothing. Either Cobra’s being especially careful--something he’s never been before--or you were given faulty Intel. “We don’t even know if Cobra is inside,” you remind your partner. “Dammit, if Omen sent us on a bust mission…” You trail off with a heavy sigh.

Bakugou follows your gaze to the building, regarding it carefully. It’s not particularly large or heavily fortified, but that’s the point. It’s the perfect place for a group of villains to hide and lay low for a while. His jaw clenches and he turns back to you. “What do we know about him?”

You sigh, shooting him another look. “Did you seriously not do any briefing at all?” You shake your head. “Why they put you on this mission instead of Deku is beyond me.” Before he can start bickering, you continue. “Cobra’s quirk allows him to secrete and manipulate toxic fluids created from his body. Gasses too, according to a few sources.”

It’s not too different from Bakugou’s quirk, if you think about it, but you’d take the explosive sweat over toxins rivaling that of a Box Jellyfish any day.

He scoffs. “That all?”

“Reportedly, these toxins can be corrosive enough to burn straight through human tissue and bone in a matter of minutes.” Bakugou doesn’t look the slightest bit impressed by the new information, and you fight the urge to roll your eyes. “If he manages a direct hit on either of us, we’ll have an hour tops to get help before the damage is irreversible. And we don’t have backup,” you remind him.

“Whatever,” he grumbles. Despite his blasé reaction, you’ve known him long enough to recognize the slight furrow of his brow. Clearly, he’s about as enthused as you are about dealing with Cobra. “Any idea how to take him down?”

Pursing your lips, you turn back to the building across the street, scanning the windows for any kind of movement as you contemplate your response. “We’ll have to be careful,” you tell him. He snorts at the obvious advice. “Cobra is fast, and we only have one shot at this. He tends to go underground for long periods of time after a spree like this week.” Two bank robberies and a successful museum heist. He’s getting bolder, smarter--running with a crew now. You need to take him out now or things are only going to continue to escalate. “If we time it right, we should be able to incapacitate him fairly easily if we stick together. He has a strong quirk, but he’s not much of a fighter.”

Bakugou hums in thought, his brows furrowing as he surveys the building as well. “Got a plan, babe?” he asks. There’s a fire in his eyes that wasn’t there just a moment ago, and you can tell he’s just itching for a fight. Clearly, you should have told him about the corrosive, flesh-dissolving poison earlier. 

Bakugou catches your gaze and smirks in a way that does dangerous things to your heart. And then--fuck--he actually licks his lips and a large part of your brain short-circuits for about half a second before you catch yourself. Shit, you need to confirm the target and get some sleep. Obviously, you aren’t thinking straight.

You swallow thickly, mouth a little dry. “Apparently, he’s a talker,” you say, opting not to comment on the pet-name. “If we time it right, I can keep him distracted long enough for you to blast his ass from behind.”

His expression goes from pleased to petulant in a second. “You wanna play bait?” he grinds out from between his teeth. The question comes out akin to a low growl, and you quirk a brow at his apprehension, bristling. A quip burns on your tongue, but any thought of snapping at him for doubting you disappears as soon as you glance at him. There’s a slight grimace on his face, like he’s uncomfortable with the thought of you playing distraction for an occasionally homicidal art thief with a quirk that can eat through flesh like paper. As soon as he realizes you’re watching him, Bakugou’s lips curl back in a sneering grin. “Sure you can handle that?”

“One of us has to,” you say, deciding to ignore whatever just happened. You can worry about that later. You glance at him again, grinning. “And I’m faster.” He still doesn’t look very reassured, so you try a different tactic. “Though, like I said, that’s only if he’s here.”

Of course, that’s when a small explosion goes off in the building across from you.

Bakugou swears under his breath, lunging to his feet. “That proof enough for ya, sweetheart?” he asks, straightening his gauntlets. He flexes his fingers before curling his hands into fists. His roguish grin is back.

“Dammit,” you hiss, scrambling up as well. The explosion might not be big, but it is noticeable. Criminals don’t draw attention to themselves like this unless they don’t plan on sticking around much longer. “Let’s go.”

You practically throw yourself out the window, Bakugou right on your heels as the two of you fall two stories to the ground. Hitting the ground, you roll to your feet. The impact jostles you, but it’s not the biggest fall you’ve had before, and Bakugou’s firm hand on your lower back urges you forward silently.

The two of you run silently across the street, smoke from the explosion offering you cover, so thick you almost can’t see. “Stay close and stick to the plan,” you call towards Bakugou, not waiting for a response as you dash towards the entrance on the side of the building, close to where the explosion came from. If you can cut Cobra off as he’s trying to run, you might be able to end this fight before it really starts. 

Things go wrong the moment you step into the building. 

The smoke is thick and noxious. The smell burns your nose and chokes your throat; your eyes water, stinging, your mask doing little to protect you. Something about it doesn’t feel right, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, goosebumps prickling across your bare arms and legs. The smoke and the smell are disorienting, and you know immediately that you need to get rid of it, but neither of your quirks are practical for this. Bakugou’s would only spread it around. Shit, this isn’t good at all.

Movement to your left draws your attention. Your gaze snaps to the hazy outline of a person racing past you and disappearing around a corner. Bakugou. Swearing under your breath, you take off after him. Of course he would ignore the plan--as vague and half-assed as it was--and run headlong into things like this. You should have expected as much coming from Ground Zero. Hopefully you can catch him before he runs into Cobra.

Careful not to make a sound, you race after him, throwing yourself around the same corner he did. The hallway is empty already, but you can hear faint footsteps coming from the other end. The smoke isn’t as thick here either. You round the corner at the other end of the hallway in time to catch a fleeting glimpse of Bakugou turning another corner. Huffing, you give chase again, picking up the pace now that you can see again.

It’s like a game of cat and mouse. Each time you think you’ve caught up, he manages to stay just out of your reach, much to your frustration. You don’t know what the hell he’s playing at, but when you catch him you’re going to throttle him. Damn stubborn bastard.

You round another corner.

A hand lashes out, purple gas bubbling against a calloused palm.

The reflexes you’ve gained from being a Pro are the only thing that saves you from having your face melted away. “Shit,” you hiss, throwing yourself back against the nearest wall as the blast blows past you. Some of that purple gas brushes the tips of your hair, dangerously close to your nose, and you watch the strands dissolve in front of you.

“Ooh, you’re fast,” the man in front of you compliments. His grin is wide, revealing dangerously sharp canines. He stares at you from behind spiky hair, impressed. “Not many people are able to dodge a point blank hit like that.” His head cocks to one side, his expression smug. “The commission really sent in the pros this time, huh? I’m so flattered.” The toxin he secretes with his quirk liquefies and drips down his fingers. The ground smokes where the droplets land.

“Cobra,” you respond, voice even. Shit. It definitely wasn’t Bakugou earlier. Cobra must have noticed you were there, somehow, and used the smoke to get you separated. Fuck, you’re going to kill Omen later. Tensing, you keep your eyes on Cobra as the man takes a step towards you, relaxed despite his escape being compromised.

Maybe this is what he was waiting for.

You clench your jaw, back straightening as you edge away from the wall--you can’t let him pin you down.

His smile widens. “I see my reputation precedes me.” He looks particularly pleased with himself at your recognition, violet eyes darkening as he looks you over. His fingers flex, purple smoke billowing around his palms. He doesn’t strike at you though, not yet.

If you can keep him distracted for a little longer, maybe Bakugou will be able to find you. You can still make this work. You can fend him off for that long. “How did you know we were here?” you ask, wetting your lips.

If he finds the conversation suspicious, he certainly doesn’t act like it. “Just a hunch,” he tells you, shrugging. “Things were a little too quiet. I figured the commission had to be sending someone.” The corner of his mouth quirks upwards. “Didn’t think it would be you and Ground Zero though. They must be getting desperate, huh?” His drawling tone makes your jaw clench in irritation. When you take too long to respond, Cobra sighs, his mouth curving down in a disappointed sneer. “Well, as much as I’d love to stay and chat, I really don’t feel like going to jail today. So why don’t you make this easy for me and step aside?”

Your hand curls into a fist that doesn’t go unnoticed by the villain in front of you. Channeling your quirk into your feet, you prepare yourself for his next strike.

“No?” Any lingering friendliness disappears in an instant at your silent refusal. “All right, sweetheart, we’ll do things your way.” He throws his arm forward, poisonous gas hurtling towards you.

You’re already moving, springing from your spot as pale blue electricity crackles around you. The impact of your feet against the opposite wall sends a shock-wave through your legs, and you whirl around, keeping your eyes on your target. There’s a hole in the wall where you were just standing, and a jolt of fear strikes you between your ribs.

The next blast comes just as suddenly as the first, and you dive out of the way again. It sets up another game of cat and mouse, but this time you’re the one running, and there’s nowhere for you to hide. You don’t know the building like he does, and Cobra is proving to be nearly as fast as you are, throwing poison gas at you just as quickly as you can dodge it.

He doesn’t let you get close enough to strike at him, and you silently curse your quirk for being ill-suited for long range combat. You’d need to land a direct hit, and in these cramped hallways you can’t surprise him from behind.

Where the hell is Bakugou?

Poison nearly scorches your arm, and you hiss as it burns your skin despite not touching you directly. With your jaw clenched, you throw yourself against the wall to your right. In the split second before he can aim his quirk at you, you change your angle and lunge for him. Cobra’s eyes widen in surprise. Caught off guard, he doesn’t have the time to deflect the electrically charged fist aimed towards his head.

Cobra smirks.

Panic wells in your chest, and you pull your fist back just as Cobra dissolves in front of you. Your knuckles brush against the cloud of violet dust before it disappears. Fire races through your veins.

“Too slow,” a teasing voice calls from behind you. You whirl around on your heel, prepared to strike again, but Cobra is faster. As soon as you catch a glimpse of him, his hand lashes out. Coral colored dust explodes in front of your face, blinding you. The powder sticks to your skin and chokes you, rushing down your nose and throat until you feel like you can’t breathe.

It knocks the breath out of you, throwing off your balance, and suddenly you’re falling to your knees and coughing. Panic swells in your chest, but you’re quick to shove it down. It’ll only make the poison spread faster. You can already feel it burning through your veins, an uncomfortable heat tingling from your fingertips to your abdomen. 

As if he can hear your thoughts, Cobra smirks, all teeth. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, it’s not poison,” he coos, crouching down in front of you. “I couldn’t do that to a face this pretty.” He grasps your chin between his fingers, tilting your head so that you’re forced to look at him. The desire to lash out rushes through you, but your limbs are heavy and you still can’t breathe. Cobra wets his lips. “Though, you might wish I did.”

A hiss escapes through your teeth as you double over, the heat intensifying. “What the hell did you--” You cut off abruptly, crying out as a full-body shiver wracks your frame.

“Such a strong reaction already,” he muses, squeezing your chin a little tighter. “You’d be a fun one to play with. Damn shame I can’t stay to watch the results.” There must be a puzzled expression on your face, because Cobra leans in a little closer, lips hovering an inch away from yours. “I’ll let you in on a little secret, sweetheart. I like to mix a little pleasure with my pain.”

It clicks. “An aphrodisiac,” you gasp. 

He taps your cheek with one finger, and the feather-like touch makes your breath hitch. “Smart girl. Poison works fast, but sometimes it’s fun to watch people squirm a little--until they’re just begging to get fucked.” Cobra’s head cocks to the side. “Bet you can feel it now, right? Heard it’s a bit like liquid fire. And let me tell ya, that itch isn’t just gonna go away by itself.” He chuckles. “I’d give you a hand, but I don’t think your partner would like that very much.”

Cobra releases your chin and lunges to his feet, swinging his arm just in time to send a fistful of that pink powder directly into Bakugou’s face.

“Ground Zero!” you cry out, voice shrill.

A small explosion bursts in front of Bakugou, dissipating most of Cobra’s quirk before it can hit him. He winces as the dust burns his throat.

“Perfect timing,” Cobra murmurs, throwing himself backwards as Bakugou drives his fist into the ground in front of you. 

The floor explodes. You throw your arms up to cover your face, and when you lower them again, Bakugou is standing in front of you, one arm thrown out defensively as he glares at Cobra, sneering. His shoulders are tense beneath his jacket, and in your dazed state you can’t help but appreciate how broad they are.

“Stay the fuck away from her!” Bakugou growls, his fingers sparking. You can feel the tension rolling from him, the hallway sweltering with the heat from his quirk and the drug burning through your veins.

Cobra glances between the two of you, a slow smirk overtaking him. “As you wish,” he says, taking a step back. “You two have fun.” And then he turns around and runs.

Instead of giving chase, Bakugou whirls around and drops to his knees in front of you. His gloved hands cradle your jaw carefully, and you whimper as he touches you. Heat bursts across your skin. Fuck, he needs to stop touching you. “Ground Zero,” you gasp, “you have to--”

“Shut up,” he snaps at you, tilting your chin to the side. His ruby eyes look over you carefully. “That bastard hurt you?” he demands, jaw clenched. The pad of his thumb brushes against your bottom lip.

“I’m fine,” you hiss through your teeth. “He said it wasn’t poison.” Fuck, fuck, fuck. He’s so close that you can smell the caramel scent of his quirk. It curls around you, making you press your thighs together tightly. You shiver as he moves your head to the side again, and you bite the inside of your cheek to stop another soft noise from slipping from your mouth.

Bakugou’s eyes narrow. “And you think he was telling the truth?”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “Yes. Now you need to go after him, I’ll be fine.”

He continues to stare at you, then makes a displeased sound in the back of his throat. “You better be right fucking here when I get back,” he snaps, lurching to his feet and taking off after Cobra.

XXX

Outside of the building, a hooded figure glances up as Cobra comes strolling out of the building, his arms crossed behind his head lazily. “You took too long, Cobra,” he says, voice eerily blank. Blue eyes narrow behind his hood, glowing in the darkness. 

“What can I say?” Cobra grins, winking at his partner. “Good things take time, Diamondback.”

Diamondback's gaze slides to the building curiously. “Did you finish them off?”

Cobra’s smile widens. “Not quite,” he says, waving off the other man’s concern, “but they won’t be following us anytime soon.” 

“You sure about that, bastard?” someone snarls behind them. 

Both men look up, Cobra glancing over his shoulder to see Ground Zero racing towards them, small explosions lighting up the darkness. Cobra’s expression sours, his smile waning. “Seal the exits,” he demands. 

Diamondback is quick to comply. Clear fluid springs from his hands and snakes across the ground to the open doorway. The substance covers the door and hardens just before Ground Zero can reach it, and the Hero slams into the shield feet first. Bakugou grunts at the impact, the glass like structure holding firm beneath his weight. His eyes narrow on the men on the other side, a feral grin spreading across his face as his feet slide back to the floor. “Think that’ll stop me?” he taunts, pressing his palm to the clear wall between them. An explosion rips from his palm, bright light and smoke clouding the room.

When the smoke clears, Bakugou’s eyes widen. 

There isn’t a scratch on the shield.

“Nice try,” Cobra commends him. “Unfortunately, even your power won’t be enough to get you out of there. Diamondback’s shield is stronger than any other substance on this planet.” He steps towards the building and raps his knuckles against the glassy surface. “And I wouldn’t try blasting your way through the walls either. Enhanced, quirk resistant steel walls, and such. All you’re going to do is make that pretty friend of yours inhale more smoke.” When Bakugou bares his teeth, Cobra laughs. “Really, you should be thanking me,” he tells the Hero. “Enjoy the next twenty four hours!” Still laughing, he walks backward, offering Bakugou a salute as Diamondback starts to follow.

Bakugou throws his fist against the surface. “Dammit!”

XXX

Honestly, you didn’t think tonight could get much worse, but seeing Bakugou stomp back into the hallway with Cobra nowhere in sight proved you very wrong.

“Shit,” you groan, head lolling back against the wall as Bakugou inspects your injured knuckles. They don’t hurt much anymore, just sting in a slow, irritating way, but he insisted on looking them over as he explained what happened with Cobra. “Diamondback wasn’t supposed to be here. We aren’t going to be able to bust through.”

Bakugou’s eyes rise to meet yours. “So what the fuck are we supposed to do?”

“Well, the good news is that Diamondback’s shields can only maintain their solidified form for a maximum of twenty four hours. After that, they’ll return to a liquid state and disappear.” He nods in understanding, finally releasing you in favor of helping you to your feet. His hand is hot against your waist, and you swallow down a pleased sound as his touch lingers. Cobra must not have gotten a good shot on him. Or maybe the aphrodisiac isn’t as strong because he’s so much bigger than you are. You quiver at the thought. “Until then, I guess we just… make ourselves at home.” You shrug, glancing around the empty hallway. “They were camped out here for a while, so there should be some place to sleep.”

Sleep would be good. The heat that consumed you before has only spread in the short time Bakugou was gone, and with him so close the feeling has only doubled in intensity. It spreads like water beneath your suit, which suddenly feels almost too tight.

Bakugou nods, but doesn’t say anything as he helps you back to the main room where you came in. The silence would be comfortable, if you couldn’t feel the way your face flushes, your nipples stiff beneath your bra and suit. Each step makes you wince as the fabric scraps across your skin.

“You good?” he asks as you drop down on the couch situated in the main room. A quick glance around the room tells you that your suspicions were correct. There is indeed a bedroom. Singular. Fuck, Cobra was right, you definitely would have preferred flesh melting poison over the steady pulse of heat growing between your legs.

There’s no way you’re going to be able to sleep in the same bed as Bakugou tonight--not without doing something you might regret. Already, the urge to reach down and touch yourself is almost unbearable, and it’s hardly been more than twenty minutes since Cobra hit you with his quirk. You can’t imagine that having Bakugou’s tall, muscular frame pressed up against your back would do you any good. Especially when it would be so easy for him to pin you down and rip off your--

“I’m fine,” you lie, struggling to keep your breathing even. If you sound breathier than usual, he doesn’t notice. “You should get some rest. Aren’t you usually asleep by now?” you try teasing him, grinning. Your thighs rub together subtly, arousal pooling low in your belly as you reach into the secret pocket in your thigh-high boots.

He doesn’t take the bait. “What about you?” he asks, crossing his arms skeptically. His eyes rake down your body slowly, and you feel it like a physical touch.

Your mouth is painfully dry.. “I’m going to stay out here for a while,” you tell him, holding up your phone with a hand that trembles just the slightest. “Someone has to report back to Deku and Red Riot and let them know that Cobra got away. And that Diamondback is with him.” You can see the argument in his eyes before he even opens his mouth, and you hurry to continue. “I can’t sleep in strange places anyway.” You really fucking hope your smile is reassuring and not something closer to a needy wince.

Bakugou stares for a little longer before shrugging. “Your loss,” he says, tossing off his gauntlets and gloves. They land on the other end of the couch. Your fingers dig into your palms as you look at them. “See ya in the mornin’, sweetheart.” Your head snaps up just in time for you to see him strip off his shirt and toss it onto the couch as well. The dark fabric peels from his sweat-slicked skin, and your pussy clenches as you get an eyeful of lean muscle and a soft trail of blond hair that disappears beneath his low slung pants. “Fuck, it’s hot in here,” he grumbles, shaking his head as he strolls toward the bedroom.

The door shuts behind him with a loud click.

Phone forgotten on the table, you aren’t sure how long you sit there in silence before your hand moves down between your thighs without your permission, pressing against the seam of your suit. The fabric is thin, and you have to swallow down a moan as your fingers brush over your clit. The light touch has your legs quivering, and your free hand clamps over your mouth. Fuck, you shouldn’t do this.

Your eyes close, exhaling slowly, and tip your head back against the couch cushions. This is enough. You’re definitely not going to start thinking about the man in the bedroom less than a dozen feet away from you. You will not slip the crotch of your suit to the side, letting your fingers drag through the slick already dripping from your slit.

A shudder rips through you as your hips buck against your hand, two of your fingers slipping inside of you easily.

Cobra’s voice echoes in your head. That itch isn’t just gonna go away by itself.

Fuck, it’s going to be a long twenty-four hours.

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

The Guardian and Saviour (Favored Ones, Part 21.)

Series description: Many things were surely fucked up in the year 2038, but no-one ever told anyone how all of it went down. What happened before a group of people left for Seattle to handle personal matters? Why did one girl refuse to leave all of it be? And why there were so many dead in the end?

Quote for the chapter: “Kill or be killed? What a way to live and to die.” - Shawn James

Part summary: Seattle was just starting to show its true colors to you - the things you were going through were just the begging. It was all going to be worse when you found out that Seattle is in a middle of a war. 

A/N: So... I didn’t know we’re going to spend so much time in Seattle, but at this moment, it seems to last at least eight chapters before we even get to Abby? I mean, that’s a lot. But I want to stay true to the cannon... At least partially.

Warnings: Gore, blood, murder, infected, guns, shooting... Bros... This is going to be gross... And it will be worse than this. 

Word count: 5.6 K

Tagging:   @nemodoren @xxgoldenhour @missdictatorme​​ @peakymarvels​​ @davnwillcome​ @pickleriiick​ @jodiereedus22​ @gladiosamicitias​ @tamkashi​ @eternallyvenus​ @avengerssstuff​ @fangirl-inthe-us​ @avery-miller​ @mikah-writes​ @mad-hatter-98​ @sadiaafrin99​ @flavorishy

Series master list: H E R E

Joel Miller’s playlist for the bonfire occasions: H E R E

Youtube playlists: JACKSON DAYS | SEATTLE DAYS

Seattle, day first - afternoon:

Waking up while your head is dizzy and your body is covered in sticky, warm liquid always feels strange - especially when you can't recall what happened earlier. Naturally, the more you stressed when you realized you're between someone's legs and their palm is covering your mouth. The first instinct was to drag to hand down immediately, so you started to wiggle and jerked around to free yourself because you felt endangered. Soon, you realized you knew material of the jacket you've been tugging on. Joel's thighs tightened around your waist to hold you in place as the man looked behind to corner to see if your awakening attracted some attention.

But soon, it was apparent that the people who Joel heard outside, didn't know about you. So finally, he put his arm down, letting you go. But you didn't move away from him - your eyes got frozen on your jacket covered in the blood. Slowly, you looked around to see the dead animal. It was your fucking horse you've been riding for the last few years you lived in Jackson. Sure, Sadie wasn't your property, but Cat never gave you a different horse than your girl. When you rode out of Jackson, you rode out on Sadie's back. And now, it was dead.

You saw what happened. She ran into a shop window and cut her throat open. But you couldn't recall what had caused it. Slowly, you wanted to stand up, but your stomach turned upside down and you almost fell back on your ass. The man reached out for you and caught your elbow. He put his hands around your face to see what you've been looking like - if you're seemingly alright at least. And you were. But as you slowly gathered consciousness, you noticed a big piece of glass in his upper left arm.

"Are you okay, baby girl?" - The man furrowed at you, smoothing a sweet spot under your eye. - "Do you see me twice, your head spinnin', does somethin' on your body hurt real bad?" - He whispered. Jesus, that guy could be so sweet when he wanted to. And he usually did got sweet around you.

"Just... A slight headache, but I'm fine, I think. What about you? Any other wounds other than this thingy sticking out of your arm?" - You asked back, still trying to remember what even happened back there - there was something that had to happen for Sadie to just run into the glass, right? She didn't panic on her own.

"No, the road blowin' up didn't do a number on me, I swear." - Joel looked at you. Oh, damn, that was what happened. The road under Ellie and Dina blew up - and because you and Joel rode quite back behind them, you were fine. More or less. With a furrow, you walked to the horse saddles and went through it. Your feet were sticking to the floor because of the blood - and Sadie's body was still warm. You couldn't be out for a long time.

"What are you doin'?" - Joel asked and you pointed at his upper arm. - "'s nothin', I swear. We take care of it once we find Dina and Ellie. They took 'em." - The man wanted to stop you just when you took out one of his fresher shirts. His jacket was more or less fine, when you ignored the tear in the sleeve, so that didn't need to be changed. But it was drenched in blood too. No way in fucking hell he would be going after the girls in that state. Your man maybe had the right balls to do so, but he wasn't going anywhere with blood flowing out of his arm.

"You sit your ass down. We'll take care of it and then we head out to search for them. Who took them?" - You asked and waited until he takes the jacket off. For a while, Joel was staring at you with a furrow, but then he sighed and sat down, taking off the jacket so you'd have full access to the wound. It didn't seem to be too drastic or deep, but that didn't mean it was a nice sight. You hoped that Joel would be able to lift his gun at least.

"WLF, I suppose, but I just know it were some strangers." - The man sighed, watching as you just ripper the torn apart sleeve off the shirt to get a good look at his arm. Gently, you pulled the glass out, focusing on being the gentlest you could, but a few grunts left Joel anyway. When that was done, you cleaned it up and waited for the blood flow to stop. There was no time to waste, so you only provided him with quick, yet precise stitches and covered the wound in a few bandages, making sure it's at least cleaned up properly. - "You heard where they're taking them?" - You asked and gave him the other shirt to change into, pulling a few of his and your pieces of underwear and t-shirts out of the bag in case you'd tear some apart or something.

"Yea, some building a mile from here. We should be there quickly. Do you still have the map on you, girl?" - Joel asked back as he buttoned up the shirt. You nodded, pulling it out of a small pocket in your backpack, opening it up. You were both watching it for a moment before Joel pointed in the direction of the downtown - "'kay, so we should be here. And they put them... Here." - He mouthed, looking down on you. You nodded with a furrow, counting the streets.

"How do you know where they took them specifically?" - A whisper left you as you arched your eyebrows, licking your lips. Quickly, you made a small X on the map to remember where Joel pointed. You both put together some basic supplies like ammo, food, and first aid kits for the case of an emergency. - "They weren't exactly quiet 'bout what they were about to do. These people are... Gatherin' supplies to attack some spot near Seattle. Don't know who they are attackin', but that's it. And they put them in one of the hoardin' centers to be sure girls won't try to escape." - The man explained to you. That... Made sense, you guessed. So, this was your first official encounter with the WLFs, huh? They just blow up the road under your asses. You probably weren't even meant to blow up, they prepared the place for someone else - but they took what they could get.

"We're lucky they didn't notice us. We could've been in limbo for hours before they came to check the spot... They probably just noticed Dina and Ellie." - Joel told you again and you had to say that it would make sense. Hunters usually didn't check around their booby traps - the went straight just for the big prize. Sadie rode off the road when Joel lost control over her - she could've run quite far before riding into the glass. - "And 'bout what happened earlier..." - Joel whispered when he put the jacket on, following you outside the building.

"Not now, Joel." - A tired whimper left your lips as you tried to shake the dizziness out of you. Your perception of the reality around was still a bit shaken, but it was slowly getting better and better. But the man didn't seem to want to drop the topic at the moment.

"I want you to know that I will guard you the whole time. At any cost. And even though I'm not an ideal man, I love you." - The man poured his heart out just to meet a wall of a cold stare and emotionless expression. When you said you're not in the mood for this sort of heart to heart talk, you meant it. And Joel had to respect your boundaries. The sight of destruction showed you exactly where the bomb had blown up - and Shimmer was laying there, lifeless as well. Someone had to take everything out of the saddlebags in a hurry. There was no sing of Dina or Ellie ever being there other than two silhouettes of woman bodies printed into the stiffened horse blood.

"Nothing other than Shimmer here." - You told Joel when you inspected the area around the body, hoping Joel knew where you two were going. Every second could cost the girls their lives. There was a while of silence when you walked through Seattle's downtown, trying to find the way to the street. Not even for a second, you let your guard down. Every leaf scratching the road, every drop hitting the ground or just the sounds of corrosion and ruined buildings filling your head. It didn't take too long before you walked to a dead end. - "Fuck..." - You groaned, taking the map out of your backpack to take a look at it. - "The street is right behind it. We need to get through somehow, or walk around the barricade, which can add up hours." - A sigh left you as you noticed that Joel had already left your side. His head was moving as he searched for any possible way - and being the survivor he was, he found what he was searching for. His finger pointed at a hole in the wall which was pretty high up.

"You'll go in and unlock the door for me, okay, doll?" - The man asked you, leaning his back into the wall behind him. Gently, he slapped his thigh and prepared you a small parry space out of his palms. This probably wasn't a good idea, but, what else were you supposed to do? There was no way in hell you'd walk around the city to look for a different way to get to the WLF place. But the house could have some infected inside who would kill you in an instant. The true question was - what other options you had? None. That was the answer. None.

So you nodded, lifting your foot to Joel's palms, catching his shoulders in the process, waiting to be lifted. With that, you caught the old man looking at you. - "What?" - "Just... Open the door for me. No scavaging, if you'd see infected, we'll finish them off together, yea?" - Joel asked which had you nodding against your will. And so, he straightened up, helping you climb through the hole. Yeah, sure, you were caught off guard and surprised with what you've found out about Joel, but... The care he was giving you was making you sure he cares about you a lot.

With a muffled sigh, you slipped into the building, falling straight on your knees because your balance fucked up for a second there. You've stayed silent for a moment to hear if anything has noticed the noises you made, but the house seemed to be silent - until you've heard the silent voices coming from the other building standing to your right hand. - "That was a fucking loud bang, Emily. I'll go to look at what it was." - A man told a woman before you heard first footsteps coming your way. For a second, you panicked, until you saw a big cabinet pushed to cover the door - you could take cover there before the man leaves the building alone. You'd swear that you hadn't breathed so loud ever before. Forcefully, you pushed a hand on your lips to calm down a bit, trembling as a dog kicked into its stomach.

The heavy footsteps were getting closer and closer and you'd swear that you couldn't hear anything but your heartbeat and the blood rushing through your veins. Dina was right - the adrenaline rush was intensive. If Joel wouldn't be waiting behind the door, you most likely would search for your gun or just try to stab him with your knife do defend yourself. But you just pressed your back into the wall more, straightening along the side of the cabinet. Your only luck was that the man didn't go to the back of the room - his flashlight illuminated the floor just a few inches in front of your boots and you tried to hold your breath.

"It's clear here. Let's get done with the crates!" - The man yelled at Emily and the sounds of footsteps started to recede into the silence of the house. When you were sure that he's far away enough, you leaned your shoulder into the door, pushing the cabinet away. Your ears heard it so loudly and clearly - every small sound the wooden floors made, every creek of the cabinet, each of your inhales. But the man or the woman didn't hear you, which made you breathe out when you turned the lock and opened the door for Joel. The man looked visibly agitated, yet as soon as he saw that you're okay with his very own eyes, he let out a long breath. He nodded at you, smoothing your cheek with his palm.

"Can you stop for a second?" - Joel asked you when you made your way throughout most of the ruined and corroded buildings, having a clear sight of the WLFs outside. At least a portion of them. - "If you want another heart-to-heart, I swear to motherfucking God," - "Do you know how to take someone out silently?" - The man whispered back at you, have you completely lost in what he was saying for a minute. When you weren't answering, Joel kneeled, pushing you down as well. - "Listen. It's not as complicated as it seems do be, but if you fuck up any small thing, they know about us, rite? We need to do this simply." - The man slowly pulled your knife out of the holster on your leg, showing you how to grab it.

"Your free hand goes for their mouth. Cover their lips and push your elbow into their shoulder to hold them in one place. Sure, they will be tryin' to wiggle out, but you need to try to get them on the ground, you with me?" - Joel asked, looking you in the eyes. Slowly, you nodded, watching his palms toying around with the knife. - "First, you catch the knife like this," - The man told you and put your fingers around the handle, making sure you're holding it tight. - "And to push it in, lean your palm into the top. Just like when you hammer nails." - His palm moved, showing you what he meant by that. The instructions were too much for you to remember. Of course, Joel noticed the panic in your eyes.

"Listen." - His palms held both your shoulders, his head leaned into your forehead. - "You know most of this. Clickers don't stand a chance against you - but these people have a system and safe words, so you can't let them make any sound. You'll know what to do once you get into it. Stay behind me - see those two?" - Joel pointed with his fingers to show you two WLFs on your right. - "I have the right one, you have the one on the left, 'kay?" - The man asked and gave you the knife back, taking out his knife. He didn't give you a clue when he started to crouch forward, so you followed his lead.

The woman who was showing her back was a human being. But previous experience showed you that she wouldn't waste a second before aiming straight for your head. These maniacs had Ellie and Dina cuffed somewhere inside the building - and they even blew up a motherfucking road. They were something like Clickers. It was you, or them. Survival of the fittest... Of sorts.

So when Joel jumped for the guy's neck, you went to grab Emily as well and tried to do as he instructed you to. You put your palm over the woman's lips so only muffled curses and sounds coming out of her filled the surroundings for a moment. She was struggling a lot, almost pushing you to the ground - and in the passion of the moment, you grunted and pushed the knife inside the side of her neck. It was weirdly stiff when it went in, and again, you've listened to Joel's advice, hammering the blade deeper in. The body was still twitching when you felt the first drops of blood on your fingers. Soon, as you took the knife out, drops changed into gallons of the liquid. And dear Lord, did you want to throw up at the moment. The liquid was hot and sticky on your skin.

To stay quiet, you slowly lowered down with the weakening body, laying it down on the asphalt. Quickly, you wiped the blade into on your thighs, looking at Joel. His expression was unreadable as he nodded at you. You followed his lead through the ruins of an old office complex - you both tried to stay as quiet as possible, motioning in the direction of any WLF with your eyes or your head.

The man tried to take out as many as he could to protect your consciousness and to stop the incoming remorses - but you took out a few more guys who almost detected you. And soon enough, you heard gunshots - and Ellie's voice screaming some loud curse words. A relaxed sigh came out of you. The girls were alive, so none of it came in vain. Any time you got the courage to kill one of the WLFs, you repeated that you're doing it for them and that it's you or them. As soon as Joel was sure that your way will cross Ellie's, he got in his feet and loaded his revolver. Still following his lead, you pushed the knife back, taking the bow off your back. - "Stay back. Hide if you want." - Joel whispered, putting his hand on the doorknob. Yet your daring grin as your finger stretched the bow chord.

"Move forward. We have people to save here." - You whispered and tugged one arrow out of the quiver, getting it ready. This reminded Joel of Maria and of the day when Baldwin happened - just like then, there were two lives on the line. And you weren't giving up on them. Joel led you through another maze of office rooms until you had a girl on your gunpoint. You almost let the arrow go - but in the last moment, you realized you were looking at Ellie. And when that information clicked inside your brain, your eyes teared up as you walked to her and hugged her.

"Jesus fucking Christ." - Ellie mumbled to your hair, checking your face briefly. Your cheek was bruised - which happened when Sadie rode into the glass, but you seemed to be more or less okay. Quickly, you both hid under a wall. - "What's that on your hands?" - Ellie mumbled and leaned out to check on the situation, seeing Joel and Dina already regrouped in the corridor. There was a long silence, but as she looked at you, she saw the numb expression you had on your face. Which told her not to ask more questions.

The escape from the building was hasty, you barely got a moment to take a breath. But when you did, and there was no possibility WLF could follow you, Joel barricaded the door and you fell flat on your knees and tried to puke. But nothing came out of your lips. Ellie was mumbling about some letter she found in some boy's pocket, but Dina wasn't listening to her. She kneeled, helping you back on your feet. - "Breathe for me, come on. In and out. In and out. Just like that, baby, yeah. You did well." - The girl caught your cheeks to her palms, smiling at you. - "If there wasn't for you and Joel, Ellie and I would have died." - She mumbled, kissing your forehead. Ellie followed Dina and kneeled next to you, smoothing your upper arm. - "She's right. You saved our asses. Both of you." - Joel was standing a bit away from you, watching the whole situation. He'd expect that you'd freak out after killing the woman, but you got into it pretty fast.

What was strange was that now you weren't that bothered. The remorse wasn't as deep as it was before, which was almost scaring you more than killing someone. Was your consciousness getting numb to taking someone else's life? That was too fast. No. Maybe it was the rest of the adrenaline flowing through your veins, making your hands shake and stomach contract. But... It wasn't as bad as before.

"You good now?" - Ellie asked when you sat on your ass, waiting before you nodded with an exhale. Quickly, you stretched the back of your next before letting Dina pulling you up on your knees. - "'kay. You still have that map with you?" - The girl asked and pulled out the letter again, showing you a picture of some random girl. Dina chuckled upon seeing that photograph, whistling nastily. - "What? She's hot." - The girl grinned and showed you a photo with her name. Some Leah or who the fuck that was.

"She's with them." - Ellie mumbled from reading the letter and looking at the map. At that, Dina looked at the photograph once more. - "Well, fuck her too then." - Ellie gave the photo back to Ellie as you watched the girls talking about the map and the letter. Slowly, you licked your lips and walked to Joel, smoothing his shoulder, checking on him. Only that alone made him smile at you, kissing the top of your head as he pulled you closer.

"The TV station. It's here, behind the tall buildings. Does anyone see tall buildings?" - Ellie turned her head back at you. To look around, you both turned your heads from the collapsed wall, but Dina was already pointing back to the downtown. The redhead snickered, nodding at that. And so, you were set on your way once again. You were walking through Seattle at a fairly fast pace - there were for of you, so you could overcome barriers easily. With meeting some infected and one small group of WLFs, it took you two hours before you saw the horse. Some bodies were shot - the blood was fresh and it was mostly the infected laying around. You walked straight to the dead horse, closing your eyes when your fingers graced over the burnt in mark on the animal's thigh - this was Tommy's horse. And the saddlebacks were empty.

Yet when you woke up from the small trance again, Dina was puking on your right hand, having Ellie smoothing her back. - "This isn't too old, so we better stay sharp. Maybe Tommy isn't that far off and maybe we'll meet him inside the TV station." - You looked at the others. Because there was no reason to stop, you continued forward - and the TV station was closer and closer. Oh boy, the road to the building was filled with booby-trapped explosive - one wrong step and you all would end up in pieces. But Joel and Ellie gladly took out the bombs for you, since they had some experience with it already from someone that they called Bill.

In the end, you were all climbing inside the building. First, it seemed that it's just empty... Until you noticed the small puddles of blood on the ground and drops of it on the walls. Ellie noticed too and both figured out the same conclusion - someone was there recently. Which was confirmed when you walked to the former TV news studio. Your breath hitched when you watched the scenery. Four people were hanged on cables coming out of the big camera machines. Each of them had their belly sliced, so there was another big puddle of blood under them. - "Did... Did Tommy did this?" - Dina mumbled, watching the dead people. - "No." - Joel mumbled, and just when Ellie was about to ask why is he so sure, he pointed on some form of a ritual symbol drawn from the WLFs' blood.

"This doesn't look like Tommy's work." - Joel assured all of you, still looking at the hanging bodies. This was bestial, brutal almost. Ellie came closer to the scenery, looking at it. - "They said they have some... Kind of a problem here in Seattle." - She told you and Joel when you left the place, searching for where to go next. - "Listen, I didn't hear all of it and I certainly didn't know what these fuckers are talking about, but there's someone called the scars. I've seen a drawing back there, so I tried to draw it." - She said, getting her notebook out for Joel and you. It was some old, black-haired woman inside white flowers, doing some religious mumbo jumbo. - "I have a feeling this is her people's doing." - Ellie put the notebook down and you all got silent again.

As you made your way through the building, there was a lot of fucking stuff on your mind. So, there wasn't only the WLFs in Seattle. There was another group that you didn't encounter yet - some religious motherfuckers, as it seemed. Dear Lord, were these shooting on sight as well? You hoped that at least with these people, you might have a chance to talk it out somehow. That would be just perfect. What you'd stubbled into? It seemed that the WLFs are at war with someone. Which sucked shit in your opinion.

And dear Lord, you found Leah in the next five minutes. She was laying there in a huge puddle of blood, her body was pierced with arrows. Which somehow managed to look even more savage than the ones Joel taught you how to make. - "Jesus, the universe wanted this girl dead, huh?" - Dina mumbled upon watching the dead body while Ellie went straight for the bag. - "Is this the girl who..." - Dina looked at you as you kneeled beside Leah as well. Quickly, you shook your head, watching her. Someone wanted her dead and it was plausible that it could be the religious sect who hanged the people on the lower floor. It was a more probable solution.

"Look at this. Y/N... Can you come here?" - Ellie asked upon finding of ten Polaroid photographs in Leah's bag. There were the people who managed to escape them. And these photos were taken near Jackson. Each of them. Dina looked on the photo as well, stopping Ellie at one particular one of a short-haired woman who was sitting there in a tight winter west, sending the camera a big smile. She was the one who asked you if you're doing okay.

"This one. Jesse, Diego, and I met her just a moment before we found you down there. She wasn't armed and she looked so scared that before any of us rose our guns, she managed to get away." - Dina told you the small backstory. - "If she wasn't with the people who had done... That to you and Tommy, she'd be quite nice." - The black-haired girl assumed, looking the woman's face. Her name was Melanie. Melanie.

For a moment, Ellie went through the other photos. And when you saw their fucking faces fairly close to each other. Both of them were smiling, looking straight into the camera. Ellie was the first to realize who you've been looking on. The corners of your lips started to twitch as your brain searched for any word that would come to mind.

"Owen and Abby." - She whispered when she leaned in to inspect the picture over your shoulder. Gently, her fingers took away the photo, looking at these two fuckers smiling into the camera. She already felt her breath hitching as anger started to cover her consciousness. - "We hunt them down like fucking animals. I promise." - The girl whispered just when you heard sounds coming from the lower floors. The WLFs had arrived after the massacre done by the cultists.

Joel wanted you to stay back for the sake of your mental situation - but you weren't planning on staying back. Seeing Abby smiling, being happy just hours before she massacred you was offending you. It had woken up hatred inside of you.

Each life you took brought up a different set of feelings. You weren't as shaken as you were the day you've met the hunters in the woods with Joel. Sure, you still weren't feeling the greatest about taking someone else's life - but these people were affiliated with Abby. All you were going for was leaving a message for the woman. You were after her and you weren't slowing down. Each of them met her at some point, they had joked around, greeted each other, or ate their food together.

The anger woke up the animalistic side you didn't know you had inside of you - with every stab to the neck, you desired to hear them scream, beg for their lives just to feel the satisfaction growing inside of you. Thank God the more rational side didn't leave you, telling you to cover their mouths properly. And in the end, when the building finally got quiet, you were just standing there and looked at the path of the dead bodies you left behind. This was all Abby's doing. She got inside your head, making you thirst for revenge. The thirst wasn't even that strong until you saw her fucking face again. With a sigh, you massaged your face, taking in a deep breath without realizing that you're smudging the blood all over your cheeks and forehead.

"Are you good, baby girl?" - Joel asked you, making you look at him. Tiredly, you nodded, cleaning the knife on your trousers again. - "We need to leave. Let's go." - The man told all of you, already making his way out of the place.

You hadn't been tired as much ever in your life. Seattle was taking its hold on you - the whole day, ever since you arrived, you hadn't stopped to take at least a shallow breath. Your muscles hurt for a fair amount of time and the more you were walking, the more you were feeling the horse incident taking a hold on you. Again, your stomach was clenching and your head was aching. But you met another group on your way and crossing the former subway track was a living nightmare since it all concentrated there - Jesus, you'd swear you'd never seen so many enemies in one place.

"'kay, we have spores ahead, so keep your masks on." - Joel turned to everyone and in the next minute, each of you adjusted the masks on your faces. Yet this time, Ellie took the role of the group leader on her shoulders again, leading you through the old subway wagons. It was probably for the better there was four of you. Dina was puking a lot, you were feeling as if you'd pass out any minute, Joel had fucked up upper arm and Ellie was just fucking tired. But even if you were all done in a sense, you could still help each other to overcome the barriers. The day way settling down, so you needed that you had to find some safe place where you could rest. As you looked around on the empty wagons, suddenly, one of them collapsed under Ellie.

"I'm coming!" - Dina screamed and ran after he immediately as she saw the some infected ran to her girlfriend laying on her back. Joel first checked on you and then, he helped you down from the steep, wet metal. Dina fired a few rounds, but when you climbed down, she was looking at Ellie in shock. And you saw Joel's eyes widen as well. Soon, you realized why.

Ellie's mask was broken. She was breathing in spores that were everywhere around you. But, weirdly, she wasn't coughing. The words that were said? You couldn't catch one because you were just staring at Ellie taking off her mask - and the sounds of incoming infected were making you unfocused as well. - "I'm immune. I'm immune. Fuck." - Ellie muttered out, holding Dina's palms as you changed the magazine inside your gun and Joel did the same with his revolver rounds.

"Kiddos, y'all need to talk about this later. Can y'all run?" - Joel asked, shooting the first infected on sight to their leg. Each of you nodded, both the girls taking out their guns as well. - "Then run!" - The man yelled at each of you, which turned some switch inside of you again. You still were tired and your thigh muscles were on fire as you ran on escalators and stairs with Dina right behind you, but you couldn't bring yourself to stop. It felt like a miracle when you saw the exit. There was a horde of Runners and Clickers tight behind your fucking ass, you couldn't stop to take at least a short breath. The sounds were getting closer and closer as your body crashed into the security gateway. Just after you ran through it, you fell on the ground and crawled away so the others could come through it as well. All you did was that you put your head down on the ice-cold wet tiles of the subway station floor, closing your eyes.

So, to recapitulate the whole day... Your horses were blown up, you lost and found Ellie and Dina, you killed at least twenty people, found out Ellie was immune and were almost killed by the horde of the infected. Well, when it thrives, it doesn't slow down, does it?

[evolutionsvoid]

The sudden and inexplicable appearance of some alien entity was worrisome, but with all the other issues the earth was dealing with, it seemed inevitable. How a massive creature such as this one just happened to pop up in the middle of the country left many baffled, but since it was already stomping around, the higher ups decided that question wasn't top priority at the moment. Though it didn't seem to be targeting cities and military bases like many would expect for an alien invader, it quickly became apparent that this being was a huge problem. It showed no malice or anger towards humanity, hardly even raising a fuss when some idiots put a few tank shells into its hide. On its own, it didn't seem so bad, but unfortunately it brought something worse to the table than sharp claws and fire breath. It didn't take long for the creature to earn a name: Manic Burn. Though the passive bumbling giant doesn't seem deserving of such a title, it takes just one look at its victims to understand the destruction it can bring. The real danger that comes from Manic Burn is the vapor that is expelled from its body. This orange mist is pumped from the endless amount of holes and organic piping that cover its form, churning the stuff out at a rapid and constant rate. It creates so much of this substance that Manic Burn is always surrounded by a thick shroud of it, so much so that people have only been able to see its full body on extremely windy days. Unfortunately such days are the most dangerous to nearby organisms, because the wind spreads its vapors far and wide. Even on a calm day, its ceaseless expulsions can coat the landscape for miles around, requiring mass evacuations for any town in its vicinity. Such locations cannot be returned to until Manic Burn is out of the area for several days, as the residue left by the mist persists for days afterwards. Those exposed to its clouds of vapor will find it quite wet and sticky, the air practically clinging to your skin and clothes. Within seconds of exposure, one's whole body will be coated in the vapor's reside and that is when its effects kick in. The residue will undergo a chemical reaction with organic tissue, turning it into a caustic substance. The amount of catalyst and certain chemicals within the victim's body will affect the strength of the reaction. In normal conditions, the human body hardly creates enough of the currently unknown chemicals to create a strong reaction, greatly weakening the corrosive strength of the vapor. In this case, the vapor will give the victim something that is like a bad case of sun burn. The top layer of skin will be reddened and fried, but such injury will fade away as the dead skin sloughs off and the body heals. Unfortunately, it was soon found out that things like "normal conditions" and "calm and collected" were things that were not present outside a laboratory, and that is when the vapor revealed its true power. Though the residue does not react strongly to the body of a peaceful, calm human, it has a very different effect to those in a different state. When the human body is in an energized and stressed state, it seems to create much more of this certain chemical that the residue reacts to. Essentially, those who panic or are in fight-or flight mode will cause a severe reaction with the vapor and turn it from an irritating inconvenience to a horrific biological weapon. When juiced with these reactants and catalysts, the caustic strength of the residue spikes tremendously and it will begin to burn through the flesh. This effect is like napalm mixed with a chemical burn, as the surrounding vapor clings to the victim and continues to react. The sudden pain and panic that comes from watching your own flesh bubble and burn causes your body to create more of this reactant, further fueling this chemical fire. Once one delves into panic mode while exposed to this mist, there is little hope in stopping the inevitable escalation and death. A victim can go from perfectly fine to a melting skeleton in the matter of minutes, as all it takes is one strong instance of fear or excitement to catalyze the reaction. This is quite the problem for folk caught in the cloud of this massive beast, as it isn't exactly easy to remain calm in such a situation. 

To make matters worse, further studies show that the residue of this vapor contains trace amounts of pheromones that are released by Manic Burn. While it is unknown what these pheromones mean to the massive entity, they are capable of having a slight effect on the other organisms exposed to it. It seems the chemicals within it can imitate the effects of an alarm pheromone, tricking the brain and body. Exposure to this pheromone can cause victims to experience unease and anxiety, which is dangerous given the nature of the vapor. This slight stressor may be enough to push a victim into a scared state, which will trigger the caustic reaction. This makes the mist even more dangerous, as one cannot rely on their own mental strength to protect them. No matter how composed you may be, your body may be tricked by the pheromone and cause you to make a single, but fatal, mistake. It is highly recommended that those in designated risk zones should obtain gas masks, full body protection as well as sedatives. Those downwind of Manic Burn or in contact with the vapor should immediately take these sedatives and hunker down somewhere. Do not attempt to run or escape. Find a safe place and stay there. Do the best you can to avoid contact with the vapor and try to remain calm. If you or someone you know is not capable of doing this, then it is recommended that you obtain a tranquilizer and use it when exposed. All emergency response teams will be equipped with high powered sedatives and tranquilizers in hopes of preventing these reactions. Once the vapor is gone, one should find soap and water to wash off the residue. Take showers, not bathes, and be sure to scrub every inch of your body. While these precautions and steps are not foolproof, they can increase your chances of survival and hopefully save a few lives. The current plan is to destroy Manic Burn, but this has been found to be quite difficult. The entity seems to linger in zones that possess several cities and towns, creating the worry of collateral damage. With no current way to bait or lead the creature to some barren countryside, the fight has to be brought to it. However, previous attempts to wound or kill the beast has resulted in massive plumes of vapor being released. Injury to the body parts that emit this mist causes it to lose control of its output and release it in a powerful surge. This doesn't seem to hurt the creature in any significant way, but it does dump a large portion of deadly vapor into the air and possibly into the atmosphere. High reaching plumes may cause this vapor to spread over an even larger area, hitting populations that were believed to be safely out of range. It doesn't take long for Manic Burn to recover from these wounds, as its regenerative abilities are quite powerful. Holes are sealed up and limbs are regrown rapidly, making it a wonder of how much damage needs to be done before it truly dies. The other issue is that Manic Burn has remained quite passive during its time wandering the landscape. Attacks have pained it, but not too much. One has to wonder what will happen if the military chooses to up its game and unleash a full on assault. What will the beast do when faced with this threat? If it is capable of causing such misery and death while doing nothing, what will happen when it gets mad?     ------------------------------------------- Another entry for kaijune and another non-violent kaiju that somehow still ruins everything. Also I am pretty sure those aren't the lyrics.

[chemicalmagecraft]

The Gamer Hero, Deku Chapter 8

A/N: Sorry if I got this out late or something, but I realized that I kept worrying about getting at least some writing out per day and that was actually causing me a bit of stress, so now I've decided to try not to worry about it and hope everything works out fine.

xoxoxo

I trembled with anticipation as I looked at the school from outside the gates. "Can you believe it, Kacchan?" I asked. "We're going to Yuuei! And we're in the same class!"

"Fuck yeah we are!" Kacchan pumped his fist in the air. "Fucking Yuuei!"

"This is our first step as heroes!" I exclaimed. "Wait, wouldn't our first step as heroes been-"

"First step as heroes, fuck yeah!" Kacchan agreed.

"It's so manly!" a male voice I'd never heard before said. I looked over to see a boy with spiky red hair and a wide, shark-toothed grin and a girl with pink hair and skin, horns, and very... distinctive eyes, both in school uniforms.

"Are you guys starting the hero course today too?" the pink girl asked. Is it rude to refer to her as 'the pink girl?' I looked up at their titles so I wouldn't have to call them by nicknames.

We Will Rock You

LV 26

Kirishima Eijiro

Alien Blood

LV 24

Ashido Mina

"Yeah," I said with a smile. "We're going to be in class 1-A. What about you guys?"

"Us too!" Kirishima said. "Let's walk to our homeroom together!"

As we walked to our homeroom class at Yuuei oh my gosh oh my gosh, Ashido said, "Hey, what are your guys' names? I'm Ashido Mina by the way!"

"Kirishima Eijiro!" Kirishima added.

"My name is Midoriya Izuku," I answered. "It's nice to meet you."

"You're looking at the future number one hero, Bakugou Katsuki!" Kacchan boasted. "And I guess Deku here will manage to make number one for a few years before I make my triumphant return," he added.

I gasped. "Kacchan, that's one of the nicest things you've ever said to me!"

"Hey, I just told you my name's Ashido Mina, not Bakugou Katsuki!" Ashido interjected with a laugh. When Kacchan looked at her with a confused expression. "Just kidding! So what about your Quirks? If you don't mind me asking, anyway. Mine's Acid! I can make this corrosive stuff from my skin that doesn't burn my skin, plus it makes my skin pink for some reason."

"Maybe the altered pigment is a side effect of whatever makes you resistant to your acid?" I theorized. Ashido gave me a carefree shrug.

"Mine is Hardening!" Kirishima offered, pointing to himself. "I can turn my skin all hard and kinda rocky at will, and yes, I've heard all of the jokes."

"Explosion," Kacchan said with a grin. "I sweat what's basically nitroglycerin from my palms and can ignite it at will. I'm also resistant to impacts and fire, which is how I haven't gone deaf or blown my fucking arms off yet."

"So manly!" Kirishima cheered. "I haven't even seen it in action and I can already tell it's super cool-looking, unlike mine!"

"I'm sure yours is perfectly fine, Kirishima," I assured him.

He chuckled a bit. "Sure, but it's not as flashy as some other Quirks."

"Yeah, well my Quirk doesn't even hold a candle to the potential bulshittery that is Deku's, but that doesn't mean mine sucks," Kacchan roughly interjected.

"What is your Quirk anyway, Midoriya?" Ashido asked.

I chuckled and rubbed the back of my head. "I-it's a little hard to explain..."

"It's called The Gamer and it lets him do RPG stuff, like upgrading his stats and leveling up," Kacchan explained.

"Yeah, that's about it," I said. "I can also get various skills and then level them up and I have an inventory that I can put things in and take them out later."

"Which is pretty bullshit, how it works," Kacchan added. "He can shove fucking anything in there, even if he can't even carry it."

"That's awesome!" Ashido said.

I smiled. "Thanks!" I stopped in front of the massive door for class 1-A

"Why's it so big?" Kirishima asked.

"It's probably just in case there's someone with a Mutant Quirk that makes them really big," I explained. I opened the door to see that only about half the class was there. I was glad that Kacchan insisted we come early, because I felt like I would've been almost late otherwise. Instead, only about half the class was there and Kacchan and I just calmly walked over to some empty desks and took our seats. The first thing that Kacchan did after sitting down was to immediately put his feet up on the desk, which made me sigh. "Our new teacher might not be as okay with you doing that as our last teacher, Kacchan."

He just glared at me. "And you mumble a lot, Deku. Ya sure the teach'll like that?"

"Fair enough," I mumbled and pulled out my Skill Grimoir to wait for the teacher.

"You!" A familiar voice yelled after a while. I looked up from my book to see that one uptight guy from the exams, Iida. "Don't put your feet on the desk! It is disrespectful!" I sighed.

"Well how 'bout you shut the fuck up, teacher's pet," Kacchan growled. There it was...

I shut my book. "Kacchan, please don't get in a fight on the first day. Iida, please don't rile Kacchan up, he doesn't like it when people order him around like that."

"Well he should get used to being ordered around, because this is a school and the teacher will have to order you around." I slumped my head. That did not sound like it'd go over well.

Kacchan glared at Iida. "Deku wasn't talking about teachers, dipshit. I hate it when I feel like people who don't have any reason to boss me around are looking down on me and shit, asshat."

Iida blinked, then bowed at a ninety-degree angle. "I apologize for my insensitivity, though I... would prefer that you do not use words like that in a school environment."

Kacchan sighed and put his feet on the ground in a calm manner that I was not at all expecting. "Don't be an as- a jerk about asking and we won't have an issue, alright? And for what it's worth, I'm sorry 'bout getting that angry so soon." He looked away and started blushing slightly. "I've started to notice that my anger issues are really bad and not at all what a hero should act like, so I'm trying to get better with that."

Iida smiled widely at that. "I accept your apology. It is very admirable that you accept your flaws and are working to better yourself! I am sure that you will make a fine hero when we graduate!"

Kacchan chuckled and gave him a grin. "You're actually pretty alright, man."

As Iida got to his seat, I heard the door open and a familiar voice said, "Oh, hey, Midoriya!" I looked over to see Uraraka waving at me. "We're in the same class! What a coincidence, huh?"

"O-oh, hey, Uraraka!" I waved back. "I hope that we'll get to be friends over the course of our education!"

"If being friends is all you want to do here then you should leave now," a voice said from the doorway. I just barely managed to see a bit of what looked like a yellow sleeping bag from the doorway. The person inside the sleeping bag got up and discarded his bag before saying, "It took you five seconds to quiet down." The man with dark hair and clothes walked into the room and glowered at all of us as Uraraka got to a seat. "My name is Aizawa Shōta," he said, then took a sip from some sort of juice pouch. "I'll be your homeroom teacher for the next three years, assuming you stay in Yuuei."

"That name sounds familiar..." I muttered to myself. It was obvious from the facts that I couldn't see his level and title and his being a teacher at Yuuei that he was a pro hero, but I couldn't remember who he was.

"Your gym uniforms are in my desk," he told us. "Put them on and come outside."

xoxoxo

"You guys are going to run a Quirk assessment exam," he told us when we all went outside.

"But what about orientation?" Uraraka asked.

Aizawa-sensei shook his head. "Teachers in the hero course have a lot more leeway than traditional schools. None of you have ever used your Quirks in physical exams because of stupid laws that were put in place. Here, however, you have no restrictions." He tossed a ball to Kacchan. "Bakugou, you were the top scorer in the entrance exam. What was your best score with the softball throw?"

"I forget exactly, but I think it was like sixty-seven meters. That about right, Deku?"

"Sixty-seven point nine," I corrected.

"Use your Quirk," Aizawa-sensei told him. Kacchan grinned and went to the circle. "You can do anything you want, just stay in the circle." Kacchan threw the ball as hard as possible with what looked like a shaped charge explosion. The ball shot off like a rocket and landed far enough away that I was willing to bet Kacchan had broken a kilometer. Though when Aizawa-sensei turned his phone to us, I saw that Kacchan was just barely short.

"That was awesome!" someone said, with everyone joining in the cheer.

"Do you think this is a game?" our teacher asked harshly. "This is serious. Every single one of you are here to be pro heroes. If any of you are here for fun, you won't be soon. At the end of this physical exam, whoever has the lowest score will be expelled."

I'm proud to say that, for the first time, the whole class united together all to scream "WHAT!?"

"You can't expel someone on the first day!" Uraraka said.

"I can and I will," Aizawa-sensei scowled. "Don't like it? Don't be last. Pro heroes have to be ready for natural disasters and other horrible occurrences, so this should be nothing. First is the fifty meter dash. Asui and Iida go first." Iida naturally got a good score on account of his speed-boosting Quirk which, now that I had a good look at it, appeared to be engines inside his calves, which reminded me of the Turbo Hero, Ingenium. Considering his last name, was he a relative? The other girl, Asui, was able to get a decent score with her Quirk, which if I knew my Mutant Quirk naming conventions right, was probably called either Frog or Toad. If the slight glisten on her skin that I saw with my Hawkeye-boosted sight was any indication, it was probably Frog.

The rest of our classmates' runs were just as interesting. While some of them just couldn't or didn't use their Quirks for the dash, like the one girl whose Quirk seemed to be that she was permanently invisible, most of our classmates used their Quirks in really creative ways. For example, Uraraka made her clothes lighter and that one hot French boy from the entrance exam (Aoyama, I think his title said) used his laser-based Quirk for propulsion. 

Somehow. 

Soon enough, it was Kacchan's and my turn to run. Kacchan and I grinned at each other as we activated our Elemental Auras and I used a Speed Up. While I only ran, the buffs I had combined with my nearly sixty DEX meant that that gave me an S-rank score. Of course, Kacchan scored less than a second ahead of me thanks to his combination of Fire Aura and what looked like fire jets coming from the palms of his hands, as opposed to continuous explosions. I'd seen him trying to do that before, but it seemed like that was the first time he actually managed it.

After that, we had the grip strength test. I didn't get the best score, but I didn't get the worst either, so it wasn't a total loss. In the next test, the standing long jump, I managed to combine Air Aura with another air magic skill I'd made called Glide to get one of the higher distances. With the repeated side steps, I managed to another point of DEX mid-test, bringing me up to sixty. It wasn't much help, but I'd like to think it was what let me get the second-highest score, behind the short, grape-haired boy, Mineta.

I Like Big Butts and I Cannot Lie

LV 16

Mineta Minoru

He used his... sticky, yet bouncy hair ball Quirk... to bounce himself fast enough to get a ridiculously high score. I was impressed by his creativity, though that was immediately brought down by how much of a creep he was being toward the girls in our class... I do agree that almost everyone in our class was unfairly attractive, but he really shouldn't have been making those comments about the girls...

In the ball throw, I was amazed more by the fact that Aizawa-sensei's scoring app had an infinity symbol programmed into it than the fact that Uraraka managed to get it. Without gravity, the force she threw it with was certainly enough to get it into space, or, as the invisible girl, Hagakure, put it, "yeeted that ball into the sun!"

Achtung, Baby!

LV 20

Hagakure Tōru

I still wasn't sure how she could see if the light passed through her eyes... I asked her, but she wasn't any help at all.

Where was I? Oh, right, the ball toss. Eventually, it was my turn to throw the ball. I looked down at it, then looked across the ball toss field. I hadn't used One For All at all so far in the exam, but I decided I should probably use it at least once and I didn't see myself having any other opportunities to use it, at least not usefully. Air Aura and Speed Up alone would be enough for the distance run and the other ones... I doubted I could think of any way to actually use All Might's Quirk, or even my own powers for that matter, in them. 

The earth-colored glow of Earth Aura engulfed my body, concentrated on my arm more than the rest of my body, and I carefully drew out the power of All For One so that it didn't affect any more of my body than necessary. Apparently I'd managed to bring the amount of One For All I used down to ninety-five percent, which actually really helped. I cocked back my arm as the glow of One For All mixed with my Earth Aura, and infused air mana into the ball in an attempt to make it fly farther. "LIMIT BREAK!" I shouted, then threw the ball as hard as I could. "BALL TOSS!" A blast of displaced air unbalanced me for a moment as the ball shot through the air like a cannon ball. I winced at the pain and saw that my HP took a bit of a hit, but was encouraged by the amazed reactions of my classmates. It was hard to believe that I was practically Quirkless a year ago... I shoved down the pain and turned my Healing Hands on myself as Aizawa showed us my score.

"Are you okay, Midoriya?" Aizawa-sensei asked me. "It's hard to believe that you can use such a powerful... 'attack' without any sort of backlash." He then looked down at my hands. "Also your hand is glowing."

"O-oh, ah, that... that just means I'm totally fine!" I lied.

Kacchan scoffed and I felt some minor impending doom. "Deku's lying, that's his healing spell."

Aizawa-sensei gave me an odd glare, then his eyes started to glow red, which I could only assume was his Quirk. It appeared as if the gravity around his head was somehow disrupted and I got a system message warning me that All For One was disabled. "Oh, you're Eraser Head, the Erasure Hero," I finally realized when I saw his trademark goggles. "I always thought your Quirk was really interesting." I then noticed that my mana was still working fine and only All For One was disabled, which was interesting.

"Just testing," he said, then blinked to deactivate his Quirk. "Report to the nurse's office when we're done here, Midoriya."

I gulped, then shook my head. "N-no, I can still go, my Quirk makes me really durable and Healing Hands takes care of the rest."

"It's because of your healing abilities that I want you to report to the nurse's office," he clarified. "Assuming you can use it on others, at least. Yuuei offers a special program for people with any kind of healing power that could eventually lead to you becoming a licensed Quirk healer, and I want you to talk to Recovery Girl about it, even if you end up not taking it."

"Right," I said.

"Hey, how'd your 'healing spell' thing stay on if Aizawa-sensei's Quirk disables other Quirks?" Kirishima asked.

I gulped. "A-ah, uhh, well, you see..." I didn't know if Aizawa-sensei knew about my magic or not, and if he did, whether or not he was okay with me telling the rest of the class... I looked at Aizawa-sensei for any sort of confirmation and he nodded. "I think it's that his Quirk only stops the Quirk Factor from working properly, so it didn't affect my Healing Hands, which is more of a spell..."

"What?"

"You can tell them more," Aizawa-sensei told me.

"Literal magic," Kacchan offered. "Deku here somehow managed to bumble his way into discovering actual, literal magic using his Quirk without realizing it, then I figured it out from his constant muttering, and now some government officials or something know about it. Don't worry, you guys won't get dragged off by some shady suits just for knowing, but they'd prefer it if how to use it doesn't get into the general public just yet. We are allowed to teach you guys, though." He looked at a classmate of ours with a raven head, Tokoyami, who looked like he was trembling with excitement. "Are you vibrating, Bird Face?"

Hello Darkness, My Old Friend

LV 22

Tokoyami Fumikage

"No," he somehow calmly denied, despite still vibrating. "How might one such as I learn to harness such power as that?"

Kacchan shrugged. "I don't know how you in particular would do it, but I figured out how to take the energy that I feel when I use my Quirk and use it for other shit. That stuff's called mana, and you use it to do magic. Don't know how you guys with Mutant Quirks work, so good luck with that. It's possible to make mana a particular element by concentrating on it, but I don't know if you can do that without an 'affinity' for it."

"I was planning on having them tell you that later, but it came up, so now you know. You're welcome to try using it for the last tests, but I doubt you'll figure it out," Aizawa-sensei said.

True to Aizawa-sensei's words, the rest of the exams were mostly uneventful, though Tokoyami and Hagakure managed to do something with dark and light magic in the long-distance run, which I thought was strange because I couldn't make any light or dark elemental affinity with Nature Affinity. Maybe they're just more esoteric or something. At the end of the physical exams, Aizawa-sensei pulled up a holoscreen with what appeared to be our rankings on it. "I ranked you from best to worst, not going to go over the rankings." Mineta screamed when he saw his name at the bottom, causing Aizawa to sigh. "Relax, Mineta. I was lying about expelling the lowest scorer. I'm not even allowed to do that anymore."

"Anymore?" about half the class asked.

"And even if I could and was going to, your performance in the repeated side steps combined with your... below-average height... making it more difficult for you to do some of the exams would have made me reconsider."

"It was to make sure we did our best, right?" a tall, black-haired girl who I definitely saw pulling something out of her body said.

Pure Imagination

LV 25

Yaoyorozu Momo

"Sure, let's go with that," Aizawa-sensei said in a way that made me feel like that was an afterthought. "Pick up a syllabus in the classroom. And I want to see you two, Midoriya and Bakugou. Just wanna get a good idea of what you can do."

xoxoxo

Kacchan and I walked out of the building when we were done. Aizawa-sensei just wanted us to write down what we could generally do that wasn't on our Quirk files, then asked me to teach him Hawkeye to see if it did anything with his Quirk. "We just finished our first day as students of Yuuei," I said. Ping. "Huh?"

"What's up, Deku?" Kacchan asked.

"I just got a title for surviving the first day of Yuuei," I explained, then checked it out. "Yuuei Student. It gives me ten percent extra HP and MP. Looks useful."

"Damn. Guess that means we're officially Yuuei students, eh Deku?"

"Hello, Bakugou and Midoriya," Iida said as he walked up to us. "I must admit I was quite surprised with your revelations, though I suppose I understand the reason why this hasn't been made public knowledge quit yet."

"Actually, it's not technically a secret, it's just that it's being researched more before any information about it becomes officially published," I told him. "So don't worry too much if you tell someone. In fact, I'm pretty sure the press conference is going to be sometime this month."

"It's so cool, though!" Uraraka said as she ran up. "I'm actually hoping that gravity's an element, because that would be awesome. Guess I'm gonna be meditating tonight!"

"Good luck!" I said. "I think there might be more complex elements than the ones I can use, so gravity might be possible. It'd probably be really cool to have gravity magic, plus there are a lot of possible uses for it."

We chatted for a while before parting ways. I even managed to teach Iida and Uraraka a few basic spells before they left.

xoxoxo

I decided to upgrade my mental stats after school. I really wanted to know what happened if I got either WIS or INT to one hundred. Not to mention, Meditation was almost to level one hundred, which felt like it was important. My skill with Meditation was up to a point where I could do it while walking and maintaining Elemental Aura and skills like it, though I still zoned out while doing it so it wasn't practical to use. 

I still paced around in my room while meditating in the hope that that would slowly level up one of my physical stats. Plus, whenever I banged my toes on something it didn't hurt because of my Physical Endurance and contributed to leveling it. Eventually, I heard a ping and felt myself realize a new thing about my Meditation, an aspect of the energy flow I hadn't considered before.

A skill has been created through special action! The skill 'Enlightenment' has been created through Meditation reaching MAX level!

I grinned. Just like with Summon Basic Elemental and Summon Lesser Elemental, it looked like at least some of my skills could be upgraded if I maxed them out, though it seemed like anything aside from Summon Elemental would work more along the lines of giving me a new skill than upgrading an existing skill.

Enlightenment (Passive) LV1 EXP 0.00%

The goal of many great minds is to gain the power of enlightenment. This skill represents the nascent power of enlightenment, granting abilities beyonf one's wildest dreams.

Allows STR, VIT, DEX, and INT to be trained as with WIS by Meditation.

Grants more uses at higher skill level.

Unlike with Summon Basic Elemental, which leveled up rather fast even at higher levels, this skill felt like more than just a step up. Sure, it was just an upgrade to Meditation at the moment, which was literally what Summon Lesser Elemental was, but it literally stated that it'd grant me more abilities at a higher level. I tested it out to see how it works and noted that I could only train one attribute at a time, which I would have been disappointed with if not for the fact that it was still a ludicrous ability.

All in all, I felt pretty optimistic about my budding career as a hero.

xoxoxo

A/N: Don't know if you've noticed this yet, but I've decided by now to have any titles that don't have some basis in canon (i.e. hero titles) to be references to something. By the way, I have two things I'd appreciate input on:

1) If you've ever even looked in the general direction of my other fanfic, you might have reason to suspect that I don't think too highly of Mineta. If you do indeed think that, you'd be correct. Therefore, I have decided to write him out unless someone can convince me not to.

2) The reason why I have yet to give Midoriya a fire elemental is, simply put, I can't think of a fire-type Pokémon that I'd like to give him. So I'm outsourcing. Could you guys please do that for me?

And none of you can tell me that Aizawa's Quirk doesn't mess with gravity because that's definitely how he uses his capture tool (and by the way the reason why The Gamer was still working despite Aizawa using Erasure is that it's a Mutant Quirk).

[cinamons-fucking-art]

Chapter 7: Calm Before the Storm

096 had found it unimaginable they would escape from the Foundations hands, let alone with a partner in tow, and yet here they were...

Countless nights sent running in the forest, Lawrence in tow on their back, the breeze and scenery keeping them going. Daytime was spent in the Pocket Dimension, hiding from the ever watchful eyes of the Foundation and allowing them to rest before continuing. The pleasant warmth of the dimension compared to the cool night air of the over world just wanted to make 096 keep running, but they know Lawrence would not want that, and for that they opted to rest when he wanted to rest.

They lost track of time as the days passed. It may have been weeks, maybe months, since their escape, but after all that time of running, the two of them had made it to their destination.

The Himalayas, home of 096.

When they set foot in the mountains, a sense of relief came over 096, finally returning to the place they called home, the blistering cold feeling refreshing on their skin and the feeling of snow on their limbs bringing back memories of their time in the mountains before being taken away by the Foundation. The mountain scenery and the happy feelings rushing over them had stopped them from realizing that Lawrence had gotten off their back and began speaking.

"Oi, Lanky, yah mind... lookin here for a sec?"

096 looked over about ready to complain about the nickname before realizing why Lawrence had gotten their attention.

The man was freezing; He was freezing quite literally. The black substance that coated his skin had began to freeze in the areas where it was lightest, and areas where it was dripping had frozen, forming small icicles made from the secretion across his body. Inspecting their own body, the areas where the liquid had been pooling had frozen over and came off with ease, taking some flesh with it.

"Oh... Larry, I’m... you're freezing." 096 then wrapped their body around 106, trying to warm them.

"Guess this man cant ta-ake the cold as well as he he was once able to." He chuckled slightly before leaning into 096, relishing what little warmth the being could offer. They sat like this for a few minutes, the only reason they didn't enter the pocket dimension simply being 106 didn’t have the energy to open it. The two of them sat with their thoughts, enjoying the company of one another, until a realization dawned upon 096.

Without warning, 096 scooped up their companion in their arms and began running. 106 didn't even have time to react before the wind hit their body as 096 began their run. All he could do was sit in their arms and let them take them where he wanted.

096 quickly approached one of the many mountains in the range, and began to speed up. They could hear 106s protests but only sped up, until...

The snow broke away as 096 ran through the large mass of snow, the only thing bothering them being how much it had built up over time. It took only a couple of seconds before the snow gave way to the inside of the mountain. 096 stopped, and marveled that perhaps their favorite spot in the entirety of the Himalayas remained theirs until now.

The area was illuminated by white and blue crystals, which pulsed to life with the movement of the two entities. Large crater-like structures made was for water, warmed by the Earth, while smaller, hotter pools of water made way for warm steam to fill the room. Some of 106s frozen parts already began to thaw with the steam as he eyes the array of warm water pools that lay before him.

096 set him down and began walking to the largest pool, situated in the center of the room. "This place... has been my own little secret for many years. Just a small spot to warm up and soak if I wanted. Nothing special... just a small natural sauna only I've know about until now!" With that 096 stepped into the pool and sat, the water going up to their chest.

"Come on in, Lawrence, this should warm you." 096 looked at him as he stood awe struck by the sight.

"I... don’t need to be ruining your place with my..." He gestured towards the corrosive substance that had recently dripped off of him and began eating away at a small rock it has landed on.

"Don’t worry... there are dozens of other pools in here I can use it I don’t want to sit in your rot. We can just... make this your pool.

"Its the biggest one here though... are you sure?"

"Its fine... I don’t really come here often anyways, and plus the water should dilute your secretions for quite a while."

106 hesitated before he finally stepped into the pool. The water around him turned dark as he submerged himself, the water goin’ up to his shoulders before he sat next to 096. A sigh of relief escaped 106 as the warmth of the pool seeped into his skin and to his cold bones. 096 smiled at this, seeing the relief wash over 106s face.

"I don’t remember the last time I had a warm soak this fucken’ nice. Probably before the Foundation got their nasty hands on me in the, what was it, 80s maybe?"

096 chuckled before wrapping his arm along 106s shoulder. "That just means I've had to wait longer for this moment than you have."

"Wait... how long have you been contained?"

"Its... been a long time. I remember one of the officers who was there during my capture mentioning it being a Thursday... and the 1960s was brought up in there somewhere, but I cant remember if I was contained during or after the 60s... and I don’t know if I ever will unless I can get my hands on those original documents."

106 gave a small nod. "I have one other question about you..."

"Go ahead, Lawrence." 096 leaned in closer to 106.

"What would’ve happened to you if... died?"

096s ears went down, and they looked away from 106. "I’m not sure, I don’t remember much about my past beyond maybe a couple of years from the before the Foundation got me. My best guess is that I’d just be reborn in some way, or maybe I would truly be dead... I cant say for sure.”

“Mmmhh...” 106 looked down at the water for a second, before looking up at 096. “Just know that... whatever form you take next when you ‘die’ just know Ill still love you. Unless you take the form of the person who ‘kills’ you next and act like an asshole, in which case Ill probably just cry in a corner or somethin’... not sure... might beat the shit outta yah with a baseball bat if the persons bad enough.”

096 blushed, pulling 106 closer. “I appreciate the gestures... though I wouldn't be surprised if 035 beat you to the bat before dancing a little before beating me to death and making out with 049.” 096 let out a slight chuckle at their joke, while 106 burst out in laughter.

“Jesus Christ I never knew you where so fucken’ funny dude.”

“Maybe its because I haven't been able to talk for, what, sixty years maybe? So many thoughts I’ve had can finally express... I know there’s one thing I've never needed a voice to express though.” With that a kiss landed on the top of 106s head, causing him to submerge himself a little further in the pool, blushing. 096 also lowered himself, allowing himself to continue comfortably cuddling in the warm pool of now dark grey water.

“You’re sure this is where they where last seen, Commander?”

“For the last time, Harley, yes, I am sure. Now shut up before one of them hears us.”

Commander Sam had found it beyond their realms of belief why two beings with such an unpleasant past had been out of containment for nearly six months, always spotted together before running off or slipping into the Pocket Dimension. Months of tracking, footprint following, and eye-witness reports had let her and Harley to the Himalayas. It didn't surprise the Commander at all, really, 096 probably considered the place home, and not being able to be home for so long could hurt anything, even the most heartless of beings.

They began lumbering on again, their foundation-made extreme-cold gear keeping them warm while hauling large bags on their backs carrying the essentials like food, water, and spare changes of clothing. The only personal belongings Sam brought were a scarf she was using to cover her face, Harley had herself a pair of hand-knitted gloves and a beanie.

The mountains were clear of snowfall, and it didn't take long for the two to find some footprints and frozen chunks of black liquid littering the area they were in. Harley tried picking some of it up, but quickly dropped it as its acidity burned away some of her glove, leaving her fingers exposed.

"Lets hope you have spares, hon, because you aren’t getting mine."

Harley sighed before she began digging through the large bag she had set in the snow, looking for her spares. Sam began tracking the footprints, following them. If they were gonna find the two entities, now would be the perfect time.

"Commander, I-"

"Will you be quiet, Cadet?! I don’t need one of the subjects knowing we're here."

"No its just... your following the wrong tracks, and I think I know where they are!"

The Commander looked down and, sure enough, the corrosive substance 106 produced was gone, and the tracks were simply of a barefooted man far too small to be 096s tracks.

"Welp, since I’m a dumb ass, show me where you think they lead too."

Harley began leading her Commander to the location, and it only took a few minutes of walking before they reached a large pile of snow, evidently tampered with. While the hole that was evidently there had since been collapsed, a singe footprint matching 096s had been buried halfway, showing the massive heel of the creature.

"Huh... good job, Cadet. You happen to have a shovel?"

"You know it!"

And with that they began to dig, Sam with her hands and Harley with a decent sized shovel. It took them two hours of straight dogging before the collapsed into a rather large opening, unilluminated. Harley flashed a flashlight into the area, revealing pools of water and crystal structures littering the area.

"You wanna us to go in ourselves or do you want to call backup first, commander?"

"Call backup, we might finally have 'em"

"Okay... nearest facility is is Kathmandu, correct?"

"Yes ma'am. When they get back to you get them give us an ETA."

With that Harley began speaking into her radio, giving their coordinates before signalling they believed the found the two missing subjects, requesting the necessary items needed for recontainment. Minutes passed before Harley gave a response.

"ETA is about 15 minutes, Commander."

"What will they be bringing, Cadet?"

"Two D-Class subjects, one to bag 096 and the other for the Femur Breaker. Backup will be about ten MTF units coming in with helicopters, being piloted by two of those ten men. The helicopters will have hanging containment units, 1.5 meters squared, with one of them containing the Femur Breaker. In case things get out of hand with them, they're also gonna be bringing the experimental Micro H.I.D for 106 and the strongest non-lethal tranquilizers they have at the base for 096. Anything else you need, Commander?"

"Patience... that’s all I need, Harley. Thank you, Harley.”

The two began readying their own firearms outside the freshly dug tunnel. All they had were small pistols and rifles low on ammo, and it wasn't long before they were standing in the snow, waiting for the sound of helicopters to approach. Sam watched the shy while Harley kept toying with her pistol, trying her best to make sure everything worked. The only thing that brought her out of it was the sound of her commanders voice.

“Hey, Harley?”

“Yes, Commander?”

“Promise me you wont end up Osprey, Rodger, and Woodrow. I need to lose you, too.”

Harley stared at Sam for a second before the names clicked in her mind. “I can’t keep that promise, but Ill try my best, Commander. Can you promise the same to me?”

“Can’t guaranteed that either, Harley, and in case I do end up not making out of this... thank you for finding that camera. It’s somewhat nice to know those three went out for a good cause.”

Harley could only give a small sound of approval before the helicopters began descending on them, the sound washing out any potential for further conversation. Out of the copters came eight men, the other two staying to keep the copters airborne.

It wasn't long before Sam was giving out orders, telling the men where to line up and giving the free D-Class the proper materials he needed to find the targets, if they where there.

“D-9606, listen to me carefully. Keep the radio on at all times, find the target, and when you do, put the bag over their head and get out of there. Depending on what we hear, we will give further instruction. Got it?”

“Fine... what does this thing look like?”

“Tall, white, skinny, long arms. If you see something in there that looks human, don’t bag that, we’ll focus on that one. Remember, tall, white, skinny, and long arms. Do you copy?”

“I understand...”

“Good, get in there.”

With that the D-Class descended into the tunnel, their breathing being heard through their radio. Snow was heard being knocked down, and the flashlight was clicked on.

“Its... warm, in here an- YO, WHAT THE FU-”

“What do you see, D-9606?”

“Nothin, there’s crystals... they’ve lit up the whole room. Hot pools of water. All of them appear normal... but... eugh. One of thems pitch black ewwOH GOD.”

Sams eyes widened at this. “What do you see?” She didn’t need the confirmation to know what he saw, the screams already rising from the cave.

“Remain calm, and remember, bag it and leave. Do it!”

“I-I cant, its got its hand on its face and-and I don’t wanna be touchin’ it!”

“Just fucking throw the bag on it, its too stupid to yank it off, just throw the bag on it and RUN!”

Shuffling was hear on the radio before the sound of them running was apparent, and soon after they were out of the tunnel, visibly shaking and crying. They took a second to catch their breath and control their emotions before they spoke.

“What... now?”

“Stay here. My squad and I are gonna keep watch on the copters.”

Suddenly, the figure she had been waiting to see came barreling out of the tunnel, with the bag still on its head, thank god. Sam covered her face as the warm blood of the D-Class shot onto her, with the sounds of tearing flesh and breaking bone accompanying it. It took everything she had to not vomit by the sounds. When it was done, she wearily uncovered her eyes to the pale figure sitting by her, with various extremities and gore strew around it.

It perked up, and then it began tearing at its mask, with what sounded like whimpering accompanying it. The sight horrified her; It had never done this before, why now?!

“Tranq it, boys!”

With that, several shots were heard, followed by the creature having ten or so darts in it. It only took a couple of seconds before it fell, unconscious, into the snow. The bag had been torn enough were, had it not landed face first, everyone there would most likely be dead.

“Someone get another bag and get this thing into containment. Someone else, get the Breaker and mic goin’!”

It took three men to haul away 096 into the vacant chamber, and another one to position the mic and prepare the Breaker. Harley was on standby, with the Micro H.I.D ready to fire. The men on the Breaker gave the okay, and Sam gave the okay back.

The sounds the D-Class made as the machinery crushed their leg echoed through the mountains, the sound sending chills up her spine as she had her firearm ready. It was only the soft laughter that she heard behind her that got her out of this trance of having to listen to two men die in less than ten minutes.

A warm, gooey hand grabbed her by the ankle and yanked her down. She shot at it twice, with neither of her bullets hitting. Fuck, 106 had gotten brighter too?

“Fire the HID NOW, Cadet!” One of the backup crew grabbed her and began pulling her away from the grasp of 106, him also shooting a few shots. One hit its wrist, only grazing Sam as she was pulled free for its hands.

It began to emerge fully from its hole, looking over at the containment cell the Breaker was in before looking at the helicopter taking off, 096 in tow. It stared at it, ignoring the whir of the Micro H.I.D. behind it. It let the intense light of the machine hit it as they watched the helicopter fly off. It too fell unconscious, the MTF going quickly to work wrapping 106 in spare blankets to prevent its corrosion from reaching their skin.

Sam and her savior began wrapping her wound, but she could already tell that the foot would need to be amputated, the sheer amount of corrosive substance that had gotten into it having already made her untouched foot go numb. Harley was quick to her side, helping her savior carry her onto the helicopter.

The remainder of her crew looked at the landscape as the helicopter flew off, relishing the view. As Sam sat, she pulled out her radio, tuning it to the Kathmandu Foundation signal.

“Mission Update: We’ve got the bastards. Only two causalities, both being D-Class used to bring out the subjects. Oh... and a foot, it that counts as one too.”

[thesportssoundoff]

“A welterweight main event pitting a big 170-er against a 155er that actually makes sense” UFC Fight Night In London Preview

Joey

March 13th

WHEW! The UFC often is very hit or miss when it runs a show in England as evidenced by some real clunkers (the Corey Anderson vs Jimi Manuwa card) and some really damn good shows (Bisping vs Akiyama, Bisping vs Anderson) and mostly a ton of soft stuff in the middle. This journey to London is actually really deep if somewhat light on name value. Granted the idea of seeing a guy who headlined a PPV (Darren Till) vs a 10+ year veteran of the sport who happens to also be popular (Masvidal) is a solid headliner but the rest of the show is really just a bunch of damn good well put together fights. Volkan Oezdemir tries to snap a two fight losing skid vs LHW's most well rounded prospect in Dominick Reyes, Gunnar Nelson vs Leon Edwards is a FANTASTIC fight with a slight snoozer potential behind it, Nate Wood vs Teco Quinones is a fantastic bantamweight tilt and the prelims are loaded with good fights like Tom Breese vs Ian Heinisch, Dan Ige vs Danny Henry, the debut of well known prospect Mike Grundy and the return of Arnold Allen.  An early start time + a lack of superstars means you'll probably forget about this one before the weekend is through BUT I can think of worse ways to kill a Saturday morning.

Fights: 13

Debuts: Nicolae Negumereanu, Mike Grundy

Fight Changes/Injury Cancellations: 3 (Alessio Di Chirico OUT, Cezar Ferreira IN vs Tom Breese/Carlos Diego Ferreira OUT, Ian Heinisch IN vs Tom Breese/Gokhan Saki OUT, Nicolae Negumereanu IN vs Saparbek Safarov)

Headliners (fighters who have either main evented or co-main evented shows in the UFC): 6 (Darren Till, Jorge Masvidal, Gunnar Nelson, Leon Edwards, Volkan Oezdemir, Priscila Cachoeira)

Fighters On Losing Streaks in the UFC: 6 (Jorge Masvidal, John Phillips, Jack Marshmann,  Volkan Oezdemir, Marc Diakiese, Saparbek Sarafov)

Fighters On Winning Streaks in the UFC: 9 (Dan Ige, Danny Henry, Leon Edwards, Dominick Reyes, Jose Teco Quniones, Nathaniel Wood, Danny Roberts, Claudio Silva, Arnold Allen)

Main Card Record Since Jan 1st 2017 (in the UFC): 27-12

Darren Till- 4-1 Jorge Masvidal- 1-2 Gunnar Nelson- 2-1 Leon Edwards- 4-0 Volkan Oezdemir- 3-2 Dominick Reyes- 4-0 Nathaniel Wood- 2-0 Jose Quinonez- 2-0 Claudio Silva- 1-0 Danny Roberts- 3-1 Jack Marshman- 1-3 John Phillips- 0-2

Fights By Weight Class (yearly number here):

Welterweight- 3 (18) Featherweight- 3 (11) Middleweight- 2 (7) Light Heavyweight- 2 (10) Lightweight-  1 (15) Bantamweight- 1 (13) Women’s Flyweight- 1 (8)

Heavyweight- (7) Women’s Bantamweight- (2) Women’s Strawweight- (6) Flyweight- (4)

2019’s Records We Keepin Track Of:

Debuting Fighters (6-13): Nicolae Negumereanu, Mike Grundy

Short Notice Fighters (6-5): Nicolae Negumereanu, Ian Heinisch

Second Fight (18-5):  Ian Heinisch

Cage Corrosion (Fighters who have not fought within a year of the date of the fight) (5-8): Priscila Cachoeira, Jorge Masvidal, Saparbek Sarafov, Joseph Duffy, Jose Quinones

Undefeated Fighters (7-8): Nick Negumereanu, Dominick Reyes

Fighters with at least four fights in the UFC with 0 wins over competition still in the organization (4-4): Jack Marshman, Joe Duffy

Weight Class Jumpers (Fighters competing outside of the weight class of their last fight even if they’re returning BACK to their “normal weight class”) (7-5):

Twelve Precarious Ponderings

1- This main event is tricky and I'm wondering if the UFC are maybe expecting a bit too much from Darren Till. Till's 2018 was complicated; he struggled with a weight cut in a spotlight show designed to make him into a big star, beat Wonderboy in a very close fight and then made a quick-ish turnaround to fight Woodley in September, getting smelted in the process.  Till has said all of the right things, he did wind up jumping back in at welterweight (after talking about middleweight) and he's fighting a guy who you have to be REALLY special to make look bad. Masvidal is the king of the close decisions and while he's taking yet another road game fight, he's fighting a guy who is prone to lapses in activity who also is coming off his first career loss and in dominating fashion. Stylistically Till should be able to do whatever he wishes against a bloated 155er coming off a 15 month layoff but I think Masvidal is a more than live dog here. There's also a damn good chance this doesn't happen because Till whiffs on weight and comes in at like 174 and Masvidal passes.

2- So we're 100% sure that Askren vs Till is next if Darren wins, right?

3- Often times I'm reminded of an important quote in sports twitter when it comes to prospects. It has many variations but the most common prospect joke is "Learn 'em on Friday, fall in love by Saturday and ready to divorce them by Monday." MMA prospecthood is often a journey of learning, falling in love, violently falling out of love at the first sign of trouble then getting to say "I was in all along!" if it ends positively. It feels like Dom Reyes is currently somewhere between Saturday and Monday. Dominick Reyes has had rarely any trouble in his stroll through the undercurrent of 205 lbs, walking through the likes of Jared Cannonier and Jeremy Kimball before getting a big test in OSP. He pretty much dominated the fight although he couldn't leave with the finish (essentially robbed from a magnificent buzzer beater). Fans aren't judging Reyes by whether or not he can be a sizable contributor to the middle of the division, they're judging by him by whether or not he can beat Jon Jones. As such, there are some folks who think he's going to be amazing and some off the bandwagon entirely. The journey is dependent on what you seek. He gets Volkan Oezdemir in what is the next major test.

4- Why is Jack Marshman vs John Phillips on this main card? I mean I know all of these fights are on the same network and nothing matters but come on now.

5- If I told you that Claudio Silva was undefeated in the UFC spanning nearly five years now, would you even believe me?

6- Leon Edwards is one of those dudes who seems sort of stuck in no man's land at 170 lbs. He isn't a violent finisher, he's not a big talker and he's not a guy who is going to draw a ton of attention in any sort of a fixed market. As such, he's just running through a lot of guys and not getting anywhere a la Santiago Ponzinibbio minus the Ponz finishes. As such, this Nelson fight is BIG for him. Gunnar still has plenty of clout at 170 lbs and while Edwards SHOULD in theory be bigger by virtue of beating Cowboy Cerrone, that fight took place at 6 AM on Fight Pass which is pretty much like running your show on incognito mode. Gunnar is also a really odd stylistic match up for Nelson; the kind of guy he hasn't struggled with in the past but the sort of athlete he hasn't had to face in a run with dudes like Peter Sobotta and Bryan Barberena. It's a risky venture either way for two very good fighters.

7- Even though she lost in her debut, I'm not giving up on Molly McCann. She missed weight and was in her debut which are normally two tough factors to overcome. Keep an eye on her on the prelims.

8- Jose Quinones vs Nate Wood is going to be a ton of fun as Quinones is activity and accuracy over power and pacing while Wood is all pacing, incredibly active with his hands and developing even more of a ground game. This one has some spoiler-ish tendencies to it with Quinones a more than live dog in my estimation.

9- This show feels so naked without a HW fight. Like why even have a show?

10- If Saparbek Safarov can not beat a Romanian can crusher on like two weeks notice then I honestly don't know what you do with the dude.

11- Ian Heinisch vs Tom Breese is a great fight that has some snoozer potential. Heinisch cut his teeth in LFA (and the DWCTS) before upsetting Cezar Mutante in his debut and Tom Breese was a good WW prospect who has all the potential in the world at 185 lbs. Keep a real close eye on this one.

12- Are we going to FINALLY find out the elusive 5th main card fight for UFC 236?

[jackfromthegrave]

♡: Accidentally falling asleep together

@rhysinpieces▐ █ NONSEXUAL ACTS OF INTIMACY // ACCEPTING

♡ ACCIDENTALLY FALLING ASLEEP TOGETHER

It’s late and Scooter’s garage doesn’t even hum with Janey’s welding tools. Everyone is either asleep or sulking in the eerie silence so unbecoming of Hollow Point’s rustic bustle. Rhys is one of the latter, sitting in an unoccupied corner of the garage. The group’s still on edge with frayed nerves and over-the-shoulder stares these days. It’ll only get worse once they make it to Helios to extract their prize. Vallory’s prize.

Jack’s been strangely quiet through most of this. Probably because so many unwanted eyes have been following their every move to make sure no one bolts. He himself isn’t too worried, since the queenpin’s goals happen to align so well with his own, but his host’s hundreds of concerns make it difficult to settle. It’s a goddamn barrage of “what ifs” and “I think i’m gonna be sicks” the closer they get to launch. So when it’s just Rhys in that lonely corner on the floor, skimming through ECHOnet news sites to keep his thoughts occupied, Jack finally sees an opportunity to chat.

“‘Sup, cupcake. You gonna sleep anytime soon or just keep reading about some stupid hippie peace prize winner or whatever? Those things are rigged, by the way.” He flickers into view to stand in front of him with arms crossed. As usual, Rhys jolts in surprise and gives him a scowl. From this angle, Jack can definitely see the dark circles under mis-matched eyes. 

“W-Would you not?” hisses the salary man. “I’ve got way too much going on in my head right now to even think about dealing with more.”“Yeah, noticed that. It’s driving me frickin’ crazy.”“Oh, it’s driving you crazy? Well, I–” Rhys’ snapped reply fades on his breath as easily as it had sparked into life and he sighs, shoulders slumping, as he tries again. “Er, sorry. Sorry, it’s just… a lot. Right now.”

Jack’s head cocks when he doesn’t expect the guy to deflate so promptly. Then again, he can see the numbers on his vitals and man is he tired.  The exhaustion’s getting to him, slowing even his wit, which isn’t great when they’ll be scavenging around Old Haven soon with two guns poised on Rhys’ back. And then there’s the entirety of the plan once they get to Helios – to the beacon and to Jack’s only sliver of a chance outside this long, lanky body. Rhys needs to be on top of his game and anxiety-induced insomnia is not going to help with that.

In a shimmer of blue light, Jack’s hologram vanishes and re-appears beside Rhys like he’s leaning back against the wall along with him. It doesn’t startle him this time, either. There’s even a noticeable sense of relief Jack can sense in the data of his breathing. If sitting close to him helps, then whatever. They can play pretend like they so often have whenever Jack sits or lounges in a way so close to imitating real life. No clipping, no floating, no blinking around the room so fast it plunges Rhys into a wave of nausea. He’s just… sitting there. Like it really is just the two of them in this dingy garage that smells like gasoline and taco meat.

“Listen, pal, and– and I don’t say this to just anyone – especially you – but, uh… You got this.”“Huh?”

Rhys’ voice sounds a little far-off; weighed down by the exhaustion taking its toll.

“What I’m saying is you don’t gotta worry so much. Like yeah, the rocket could explode or the guards’ll shoot ya dead no questions asked as soon as you set foot on Helios. Hell, even nabbing Wallethead’s face might getcha killed!”“Okay, not really helping–”“My point is, Rhys, that sure, of course those things could happen. But they won’t because you got me, remember? Handsome frickin’ Jack?”

This is met with silence, but it’s a different silence. A warmer one without so much of the buzzing vibes of stress radiating off the guy like something corrosive. Jack even thinks he sees his lips twitch at the corner with the start of a drowsy smile. His own presence lags a little heavier for some reason; like the slowing activity in Rhys’ brain is starting to persuade his own stressed program into agreement with it. 

“I’m gonna get you up to Helios. Gonna get us up there. Even if it all goes to hell.”He has to, after all. Whatever it takes, he has to get Rhys up to his H-shaped kindgom floating aimless in the stars. Has to drag himself back into something that can return the weight of scepter and crown to the head and hand that misses it so.

“O-oh,” is all Rhys mumbles out. Followed sluggishly by, “I guess you’re right.”“I’m always right,” Jack reminds him. That coaxes out a soft chuckle.

Rhys tilts his face just enough so he can give him a proper glance in spite of very sore eyes. He’s definitely smiling by now; something slight and sleepy and softer than usual. And though Jack has often teased him for staring too much, he catches himself smiling back. The kid’s kinda cute when he’s half asleep and putting all his faith in the right place.

Seems like all it took were the right words because as soon as those eyes fall closed and his head lolls back against the wall, Rhys is out like a light. His slim body even turns slightly, like he’s trying to curl up closer to the space where Jack’s image still sits. The hologram’s eyes roll, but with a certain fondness. At least he too can finally find some peace in the skull that’s been nothing but a storm of static noise since everything kicked off. Originally, he’d planned to use the time to sort further through more memory files for anything that might come in handy, but that slowing sensation from earlier is all the heavier at this point. He can feel his data stilling its shifting and mining, dragged to a stop by this weird warmth bleeding through Rhys’ rested consciousness.

It’s… nice, actually. Feels good and comfortable and so easy to lean into. His hologram blinks gone when he can’t find it in himself to project the image further and he nestles instead in a cozy nook in the cybernetics that offer the only sanctuary he has. He doesn’t know where this comes from, doesn’t know why it feels so relaxing to fall into the slow sway of Rhys’ breathing and heart-rate. For a moment, it even feels like he’s the one sleeping. Like he’s the one fit inside this flesh, these legs, these arms, and he’ll wake up in his office like everything was all one very long bad dream. Like he might be alive after all. 

It’s enough to settle the AI into standby, lain comfortably intertwined with his host and smiling with the mouth that isn’t his.

[tenscupcake]

the null hypothesis (6/?)

fitzsimmons. teen. my holiday gift to you guys! an update amidst the madness. the urt is really ramping up now :P summary: roughly one out of every six people can't feel touch; that is, until their soulmate touches them. fitz and jemma are two indignant contributors to that statistic, content to devote their lives to science rather than searching for their supposed 'other half.' both too clever for high school, they head off to university at sixteen, completely unaware their fates are about to become intertwined. but in a world where soulmates don't always match, it's not always easy to confess to a stranger. a soulmate au with a twist. this chapter on ao3 | back to chapter 1 on ao3

Oh, Fitz.

He wears ties that don’t match his shirts. Jumpers that look more suited for her grandparents than a sixteen-year-old. He’s not all that interested in biology. His hair is neither brown nor blond, but frustratingly in between. He can be a bit standoffish, too.

But such things have become so trivial in the two lab sessions she’s spent with him. 

Instead, she finds herself fixating solely on his appealing qualities: his far-above-average intellect, his passion for physics, the way his Scottish stutter reminds her of home. Those bright, clear eyes of his, kaleidoscopes of several different hues of blue that scatter light like zircon crystals. So intense when he’s paying close attention. Staring into those eyes in person is nothing short of mesmerizing, but even when she’s alone, the mere memory of his gaze can completely derail her thoughts.

Even the very same quirks that once turned her off have become more appealing in retrospect. Because the mismatched outfits suit him, somehow. When she talks about biology, he’s clever enough to keep up despite his lack of background in the subject. And her frustration with his indefinable hair colour doesn’t stop her from daydreaming about running her fingers through those curls. And she has to admit, his ‘rude’ remarks have made her chuckle several times now. He’s not mean-spirited. Frustrated, if anything, from a lifetime surrounded by people who were never on his wavelength. That’s something Jemma can relate to.

She can’t believe she ever thought he wasn’t worth her time. He’s clearly the cleverest person she’s met since arriving here, and she’s including professors in that count. He can perhaps be slightly rude, when provoked, but the majority of the time he’s incredibly sweet. Attentive, polite. Not irresponsible, either. Less dedicated to studying with all his waking free time, perhaps, but he wants to be here as much as she does. Dedicated to mastering his field. Never has a first impression she’s had been so utterly wrong.

She’s still serious about her plan to become proper friends, somehow. It’s the only way she can possibly find out about his soulmate status. But as the days go by, she wonders whether she even wants to know. The possibility of having to walk away, not being able to even see him anymore, is already more painful than it should be, having only spent a handful of hours in the lab with him.

It feels like she’s known him longer than that. Probably because a good portion of her waking (and sleeping) thoughts are consumed by him.

But, as intense as her desire is to spend more time with him, she goes on pretending she doesn’t know where he sits in lecture. They haven’t exchanged numbers or e-mails, or seen one another outside of the lab, after all. Jemma has been too terrified of slipping up to ask.

Jemma finds herself looking forward to their next lab more than anything else at the university. More than the classes she’s actually interested in, more than meals. Seeing Fitz is the highlight of her week.

The third week’s laboratory passes in a similar manner to the second: mostly efficient work mixed with the occasional chatter. But it’s the happiest Jemma’s been since last Tuesday, no question.

They still talk over each other when they’re thinking out loud, bicker slightly when they’re trying to decide the most efficient way of doing something. But Jemma has learned it’s only because both of them think too fast to leave enough pauses for proper conversation. They are both more than capable of talking and listening at the same time, as well, a skill many people lack. Thinking mostly in formulas and geometry, he has a unique perspective on things. It’s exciting to have such a complementary intellect beside her.

They don’t share study habits, it seems, but they do discover they both watch Doctor Who. How could they not, being British as they are? She confesses she’s not caught up because she hasn’t found a good way to watch new episodes. He jots her number down in his lab notebook, promising to send her a link to the site he uses.

As they’ve both skipped lunch this week, they spend a sizeable portion of the latter half of their experiment talking about what they’d like to have for dinner. When all he can think about are sandwiches, Jemma promises to text him back a recipe she thinks he’d like.

Though the prospect of having his phone number is undeniable progress, Jemma is still in mourning when they finish the protocol with an hour to spare once again.

But just after they’ve turned in their pages and returned to their station, catastrophe strikes.

Fitz has just unbuttoned his lab coat when a passing undergraduate bumps into a classmate and sloshes the contents of a beaker. Jemma watches several big drops hit the floor, and she immediately springs into action.

“What was in that beaker?” she says calmly, holding her hands out as the bloke freezes.

“HCl,” he answers in a rush, practically shaking in his trainers.

“What concentration?”

They’d used two concentrations today – 0.05M and 6M – the latter constituting a far greater hazard.

“The higher one,” he splutters out, still frozen to the spot.

Jemma rushes over to the spill kit and scoops up a glove full of baking soda, tossing it onto the caustic liquid. She waits for the violent bubbles to die, then wets a few paper towels to clean up the spill before Jason even makes his way over to the site of the accident.

“Nicely, done, Jemma. Quick thinking,” he says. “Did it get anywhere else?”

“I don’t think so, sir,” Fitz volunteers.

“Excellent. Disaster averted! Mr. Xu, you need to be more careful,” he addresses the boy who’d spilt, walking back with him to his station. “What’s the rule for when you’re walking behind people with hazardous materials?”

Jemma doesn’t hear the rest.

“Jemma.” Fitz sounds serious.

When she looks up, he’s holding his tie out with his gloves. Jemma frowns. He knows as well as she does that rule #1 of lab safety is to never touch your clothes or face with gloves still on.

“Some of the acid got on my tie,” he says under his breath.

“Fitz!” she nearly shouts.

He shushes her immediately, panic in his eyes. “I don’t want Jason to know.”

“Wh –”

“He’ll make me strip and take a bloody shower in the hallway!” he whispers frantically.

“Fitz…” Jemma peers through the gaps in the benches over to Jason, finding him occupied on the other side of the room.

“It didn’t get anywhere else. I watched the whole thing. There’s just one drop, on my tie. See?”

She glances down to where there’s a growing, fraying pale patch on his striped blue tie.

“Well, what do you want me to do, cut it off?”

“Have you got scissors?” he asks.

“No.”

He sighs. “Well, you can’t just go looking for some, he’ll want to know what for. Just help me get it off.” He tugs on the tie, his stupid, shining blue eyes pleading.

He can’t untie it with his contaminated gloves, but nor can he let go of the tie to remove his gloves, lest the acid spread onto his shirt then to his skin.

Is this really happening right now? Is the universe letting this happen right now???

If she has to take off his tie without unthreading the knot, she has to loosen it and lift it over his head herself. How exactly is she supposed to do that without touching him? On his neck, and head, no less? Oh, this is so bad.

But it’s Fitz. He’s being threatened by a corrosive, and she doesn’t want to force him into the humiliation of a public shower. She doesn’t have a choice, really. She has to help him.

Per the rules of safety, she has to take off her gloves, so she peels them off and slips out of her coat so as not to inadvertently expose him to something else. She stands to his side while he holds the tie out as far away from them both as he can. Thankfully, the people to either side of them seem to wrapped up in their experiments to notice what they’re doing.

She strives for professionalism, at first. Loosening the (thankfully) simple knot in his tie bit by bit, without managing to touch anything but his shirt, where it’s safe. But she’s losing her mind, being this close. A thin fabric away from unlocking more of her sense of touch. From, perhaps, putting him in a circumstance where he can’t help but reveal himself, if he is her match. From her studies of maps of nerve endings, one’s neck is a sensitive spot.

Hmm.

Suddenly Jemma is tempted.

She tries to tell herself it’s a bad idea, that it’d be taking advantage of him. But her curiosity gets the better of her. As she pushes his collar up to free him of the now-loosened tie, she brushes her knuckles against the skin of his neck.  

And Fitz gasps.

It’s small, hardly audible, but unmistakeable.

Glancing up at his face, there’s just a slight tinge of pink on his cheeks. He also appears to have stopped breathing.

Spurred on, she allows herself another touch. More than one replicate is required for valid scientific study, right?

This time, Fitz merely squeezes his eyes shut.

The backs of her fingers where she just touched him are swimming with signals, like they’re suddenly filled with little live wires, buzzing with that familiar, pleasant electric hum where they’ve just been turned on.

Jemma’s heart flutters in her chest. Is it possible that… this moment, he’s experiencing the same thing?

Or maybe he just can’t wait for this awkward situation – where his female lab partner has to intimately take off his tie to save him from even worse embarrassment – to be over.

Ugh, what is she thinking!? 

She stops stalling and starts lifting the sufficiently loosened tie, and he follows her lead. She honestly tries not to to touch his face, keeping her hands to either side of his head as much as she can. But the way his hair tickles her fingers (the spots that it can, anyway) catches her off guard. Her hand wobbles just slightly and she bumps his nose with her left arm.

Oops.

They get the tie clear of his head only a second later, and she lets go of it as soon as possible. He immediately walks over to the fume hood with it, setting down inside the lip before walking over to the spill kit.

She’s endlessly glad he’s walked away, because she lets out a few gasping breaths she hadn’t realizes she was holding in. And can’t help running her fingers over the new spots Fitz had just activated: the spot on her arm, the backs of her knuckles.

She really needs to get a grip. She thought she had prepared for this. It’s not like she hasn’t done it before, now, with the inside of her right hand, the little bits of her left. She can touch something new now without sending her nerves and thoughts into a frenzy. It’s just Fitz that does this; touching him is its own category. Evidently, it does send her into a frenzy.

He comes back with handful of baking soda and what appears to be a beaker of clear liquid. Hopefully, water. He throws the powder onto the tie, then pours a bit of the liquid onto it. It fizzles spectacularly.

“Could’ve been bad,” he says, with a nervous chuckle.

His face is most definitely pinker than usual.

“Yeah,” she agrees, trying to sound normal. What is normal?

“Thanks for helping me out,” he says, almost breathless.

It makes Jemma’s mind wander again. Is he going through the same slow transformation, and too shy to talk about it? Or is he simply jarred from nearly having chemical burns on his chest due to a careless error of another undergraduate?

The latter. It’s got to be the latter. She’s being silly.

“No problem,” she says, as casually as she can. It comes out more hysteric. “Sorry about your tie,” she adds.

He shrugs, as he collects the spent cloth and tosses it in the bin.

She’s got to get out of here before his PPE comes off and she’s confronted with even worse temptation.

She turns around, collects her things, and waves a quick farewell.

“See you next week,” she rushes out as he peels off his gloves.

“See you,” she barely hears him say before she’s out the door.

She’s already hyperventilating again when she reaches her dorm.

God, she can’t handle this. It feels like she’s crumbling from the inside. She keeps telling herself with more time, she’ll be able to figure out whether he’s her match, but it seems to only get further out of her reach the more time she spends with him. Each new touch is an adrenaline shot greater than the last, an electric burst of life that feels so right all she wants is more. But this aftermath, feeling guilty and dreading the day he finds out about her, is like what she imagines a crash from a high feels like.

There’s a reason this experience is meant to be shared. Going it alone is almost unbearable.

She needs to just ask him.

How can she just ask him, though? it’s not exactly a polite conversation topic. It’s like asking if one is a virgin, or has a girlfriend. It’s rude, for one thing, and it certainly implies a level of romantic interest. And would no doubt elicit scrutiny of her own soulmate and relationship status that she isn’t prepared to bear.

Groaning to her empty room, she pulls out her backpack and prepares to distract herself with homework as best she can.

At 6:10 PM, she gets a text from an unfamiliar number. Stomach swooping, she reads it from the notification screen immediately.

It’s a link.

She swipes into the message, and a second text comes in just as she’s examining the link for authenticity.

Use a proxy if you don’t want to get caught by the university’s streaming police. – Fitz

He’d used his last name.

A huge smile spreads across Jemma’s face. An unfamiliar, warm excitement spreads through her bloodstream until she’s lightheaded with it.

Thanks :)

Jemma Simmons has never sent a text with an emoji in her life. What has gotten into her?

Still, she adds him as a contact straightaway. It takes more willpower than it should not to put a heart next to his name.

Oh, dear, she’s screwed.

She remembers the recipe he requested, and types it out the best she can from memory. But she forgets a few details on the pesto aioli, and has to text her mum to get the ratios right, so it’s a little bit before she gets it sent off.

Still, only a few seconds after she’s pressed ‘send’ on the recipe, he replies.

Great! :)

Jemma smiles widely again, and want to slap herself for being such a typical teenager.

At that very moment, though, there’s a knock on her doorframe.

May.

“Everything okay?” she asks.

It’s the third week in a row she’s visited Jemma around this time. It’s almost like she expects every Tuesday afternoon to completely unravel her composure now.

Jemma hates the fact that so far that expectation has held true.

May is quiet, keeps to herself save where her responsibilities are concerned. She’s a fourth-year in criminal justice, and does kickboxing in her spare time. Interests Jemma finds as intriguing as intimidating.

But Jemma can’t deny that she trusts her implicitly. So far, May has been nothing but kind, but not overbearingly so. She’s always been there for Jemma, if only when called upon. She doesn’t push, or pry. It’s not her style.

Desperate as she is right now, Jemma thinks maybe she should tell May about Fitz. Maybe she’ll have some informed advice that Daisy and her mum both lack.

“May…” she begins, turning in her chair. “Have you got a soulmate?”

Unexpectedly, May takes a couple of steps into Jemma’s room, reaching behind her to close the door. When it closes, she crosses her arms across her chest, looking even more attentive than before. Raising her eyebrows with just a hint of a smirk, she nods.

“I do.”

[smellofairconditioning]

2019 - i did a lot this year. went north, south and the other directions. i did my best to not be very vocal about it but im afraid that it may have come off to people i love as a slight or disrespect to them when in actuality im simply trying to listen. my superpower is observation at the moment, not talking. that left september 9th.

a fun start, but the landing, i regret to say, was not nailed. instead it was black, covered in vomit, urine and trauma. i wasn't in another world, i wasn't along for the ride and maybe 2 hours into an evening of shapes and sizes alike but i wound up seeing and remembering nothing besides a set of vignettes. the first on the ground. the second in the toilet. the third in the street. the final one on the ground again. i remember screaming at the top of my lungs that last one. i remember why too.

one and a half doses of lsd - potency: unknown and un-asked. i wanted to see the pretty colors. the worst of it has passed but there’s still cause for concern. maybe psychosis, maybe therapy, maybe some extra sleep, maybe suicide. as the new life as an ever unravelling mummy went on i noticed changes. changes with edges- serrated, pointy and frankly uninviting. me, personally, i couldn’t get my heart rate back where it was before. i was lax. but i was also unresponsive. be it phone calls ignored or obligations shirked or texts left with blue dots, i did a bad job at talking. see, i lost that superpower. im not sure if it was my post-trip behavior or a sudden change in everyone elses personalities but i took it to heart no matter what. i felt like a door stopper that stopped working, stopped stopping. 

i got to see my new favorite band. i wish i wasn’t a door stopper that night. but i was, and all i could do was sit down and shut up and hopefully not come off as an asshole or a 13 year old stuck in a room of 30 year olds. but i did. to myself, sure but more importantly to my friends. this led to the stretch of time that i hope is about to end where i allowed the reigns of my emotions to wander into the hands of anyone, regardless of their wanting to.

the uninvited changes also seemed to come from all angles. i felt like i was seen as a burnout by everyone i knew. like i had a problem but no one wanted to tell me about. like breaking the news would break me. like a little honesty would turn out to be corrosive and not lead me to find a solution. which is not to put blame on anyone else. my attitude and actions are all my own, but if i needed a kick in the butt to begin my journey of self improvement, maybe a little more than a “hey did you hear” or “there was this guy who” or “but maybe” would do the trick. but hey, maybe i shouldn’t look to those around me for the roots of this tree, maybe i was just seeing branches. maybe vicious insecurity did all of this. maybe i could stop looking to others for problems as well as solutions. maybe im in this alone. maybe.

this past month and a half i’ve been fixated on finding convenient ways to kill myself but the trail has gone cold, so i think i’ll stop looking. i like where im at and i like who im with, so i’d rather just follow the gospel. buy the ticket, take the ride, and so on.

i paid the retail price, im just down to shipping and handling now. if you wouldn’t mind waiting out the rest of the payments with me, i’ll try and talk.

im sorry for making it about me (and this rather strange set of weeks), but dammit its my year and ill be me all i damn want, you bastards.

[sociologyquotes]

Why Punching Nazis Is Not Only Ethical, But Imperative

from the article Why Punching Nazis Is Not Only Ethical, But Imperative by Katherine Cross

“For the mainline liberals and conservatives who lament the punching of Richard Spencer, the young white supremacist activist who coined the term “alt-right,” Nazism remains a theoretical construct, an “idea” that can be debated and defeated without a shot being fired in anger. For the rest of us — for many Jews, for ethnic and religious minorities, for queer people — Nazism is an empirical fact with the solidity of iron roads leading to walled death camps.

 The camps are Nazism’s endpoint; it is what Nazism is for. Nazism serves as a refuge for whites dislocated by mass society and modernity, who seek someone to blame for their anomic dread. With that in mind, we must be very explicit about what Nazism’s relationship to democracy must be, and refuse dangerous, whitewashing euphemisms when discussing it (e.g. “you support punching someone who disagrees with you”).

Such generalizing language is intellectually lazy at the best of times; here it is outright deadly. Yes, it could be said that I “disagree” with Spencer that a genocide of Black Americans is desirable, but I believe he should be punched because of the very real risk that he could galvanize such an event into actually happening. This is a fear supported by the tremendous weight of our history, and by the fact that we had to fight the bloodiest war of our species’ existence the last time Nazism came into conflict with modern democracy. To call this a “disagreement” is an unspeakable slight against millions of dead.

To be blunt: Nazism is democracy’s anti-matter. There is nothing about the ideology or its practice that is anything but corrosive to democratic institutions.

Fascism is a cancer that turns democracy against itself unto death. There is no reasoning with it. It was specifically engineered to attack the weaknesses of democracy and use them to bring down the entire system, arrogating a right to free speech for itself just long enough to take power and wrench it away from everyone else. Simply allowing Nazis onto a stage, as the BBC did when it let British National Party leader Nick Griffin sit and debate with political luminaries on its Question Time program, is to give them an invaluable moral victory. Like creationists who debate evolutionary biologists, the former benefit mightily from the prestige of the latter.

In using this tactic, Nazis abuse the democratic forum to illegitimately lend credence to something that is otherwise indefensible, the equality of the stage giving the unforgivable appearance of “two sides” to a position that is anathema to public decency. This is not because Nazis love democracy or free speech, but because they know how to use this strategy to unravel them.

But is it enough to say that we must meet Nazism with force because it is so terrible? It should be, morally. I would, however, add that there’s room to consider why force, specifically, is a necessary tool in these extreme times. There is a reason that it works against Nazis, adding weight to the argument that they are a special case where a normal ethic of nonviolence should be suspended.

The goals of Nazism have not changed, but some of its window dressing has. As he was being punched, Richard Spencer was showing off a lapel pin of Pepe, a cartoon character appropriated by extreme right and Nazi 4channers in their reactionary campaigns, which ultimately featured in many pro-Trump memes, some of which were retweeted by the man himself. The new exponents of modern Nazism are eager to exploit what they see as a constituency of young, tech-savvy white people whose online culture is a neat fit for them.

4chan’s “trolling” culture is built on a perverse ideal that prizes the use of offensive speech and borderline criminal behavior as a means of becoming a stronger, superior person. If you are ever offended by something, hurt by it, or made to fear for yourself, you’re weak, a “special snowflake” who’s been “triggered” and a “lolcow” (someone you should keep hurting because their reactions will be funny). In this ethic, all emotion (except rage, lust, or mirth) is weakness, something the troll can exploit to get big laughs for him and his fellows.

This notion has been exploited to great effect by people like Breitbart editor Milo Yiannopoulos, who believes “America needs more trolls.” Yiannopoulos, who himself has a history of sympathy for Nazi ideas, and who has tried to lend respectability to Richard Spencer—calling him a “bright” “intellectual” figure on the “alt-right”—has since taken 4chan on the road, so to speak, using his university speaking engagements to gin up mob harassment of transgender students. Unable to resist a photogenic Nazi, the press has treated Yiannopoulos to numerous interviews. In one with the New York Times he literally said: “I don’t have feelings.” While this is an obvious lie, it fits with the troll culture ethos he seeks to promote.

The ideal man — the Trollermensch, if you like — is one who does not feel, who sociopathically wounds without empathy, who finds humor in even the most grotesque of suffering. In exchange, you feel no pain, no vulnerability; you cannot be hurt the way you are ruthlessly hurting others.

This is the alluring promise that 4chan’s culture has made to a generation of disaffected young men who feel powerless, adrift, and vulnerable in a rapidly changing world where being a white man is no longer a guarantee of success and prestige. Be mighty, hurt others, never get hurt again. But humanity, in all its little frailties, always catches up with us in the end.

After he was punched, Richard Spencer told the Times, “I am more worried about going to dinner on an average Tuesday because these kinds of people are roaming around,” adding on a Periscope video that “I’m afraid this is going to become the meme to end all memes, that I’m going to hate watching this.” Spencer, who was proudly touting and retweeting 4chan Pepe memes and cheering right along with Yiannopoulos about the world needing more trolling, was expressing fear and vulnerability. The facade had cracked; he was no Trollermensch, just human, equal to everyone he thought himself superior to, equal to everyone he’d see dead.

Nazis have long depended on something like trolling culture to work their dark magic. The concept of the “Big Lie” is right at home in an age of ideologically-driven 4chan hoaxes targeting women and minorities, and Nazism always relied on a certain chicanery to keep people guessing about their true intentions until it was too late — an eerie lesson for the present. Nazism’s fakery, and its ability to distort reality until ordinary people could not trust their own senses, bears more than a passing resemblance to 4chan’s culture of harassment and thuggish hoaxes. But the weak point was always the mythology of superiority and strength.

Deploying force against Nazis always revealed the lie that they belonged to a “Master Race.” And this was not just military force, mind you, but the rolled-up sleeves and bared fists of ordinary citizens who were determined to prevent the spread of fascism’s cancer. To look at British fascist leader Oswald Mosley disheveled after his rally was shut down by angry East End workers in July 1962 is to look not on the leader of a Master Race, but something considerably more ordinary and pathetic.

As I noted earlier, Nazism is democracy’s anti-matter; coming into contact with it is often destructive for our institutions because it is the personification of bad faith with malice aforethought. The only nonviolent solution is to marginalize Nazism from public life in our society — one may be free to hold these views, but not to try and spread them at the highest echelons of our public fora. When, however, someone like Spencer does come along and is being feted in the mainstream, there are no other options available to us. 

The vulnerability of Nazis cannot be revealed through debate — many thinkers who lived through the Second World War, from Karl Popper, to Hannah Arendt, to Jean Paul Sartre, have been quite clear about why dispassionate discourse with men like Richard Spencer is not only pointless, but actively dangerous.

The use of force, by contrast, does reveal the shared humanity that Nazis deny. Our vulnerability is one of the things that links us all, seven billion strong, in a humane fragility. These are essential aspects of our humanity that both Nazi mythology and channer troll culture deny. Punching a Nazi, by contrast, reveals it. It reveals they are no masters, but quite eminently capable of fear, of pain, of vulnerability. And that takes the shine off; it eliminates their mystique, and it puts the lie to the idea that their ideology is an armor against the pains of modernity.

That alone justifies Richard Spencer being punched in the face on camera.”

[cielphantomhive11]

Fable 3 The Crawler lines meme

"Are you blind? Are you blind yet?" "The lost sheep returns to the flock! no one ever leaves the Darkness behind!" "Dead fingers talk. Dead fingers whisper. Dead fingers claw at one million eyes.." "You will never escape the darkness. It flocks to you. Always." "Are you thinking of your loved ones now? Of how you will never see them again?" "Feel the embrace of the children... They bring you eternal contentment..." "You are a fragile thing... You and your kind dissolve so easily..." "You abandoned your friend to die! He is calling for you while the children spread out his heart to the skies!" "He would have done anything for you. And now he screams alone. He curses you! Not even in death will he forgive you!" "Haha! There is nothing left! You are gone! All gone!" "Ahaha... The children are here to play..." "Be corrosive. Be pernicious. Be diseased. Be... Devoured..." "Watch your flesh turn to black. Watch your thoughts turn to black... Watch your fates turn to black." "There will be no bargains... There will be only darkness... THE CHILDREN COMMAND IT!" "You see now what future awaits you.. All those people you want to save. The people you want to control. They will shrivel as your friend has..." "They will become food for the Children. Who are still so... Very... Hungry..." "Accept death now... It is so much easier than what is to come..." "He would have done anything for you! Now he screams alone... He curses you. Not even in death will he forgive you!" "The tissue tears. The tears burn! The burns blossom like dirty flowers on their skin..." "Close your eyes! Those orbs of Light offend us...!" "See... For the last time..." "Death... Brings the gift... Of blindness..." "What happens to this piece of flesh, when darkness touches it's soul?" "Aaah... The eyes are gone forever..." "You feed us! You feed us!" "We will snuff out every last light, smother every breath from every mouth, and stop the beating of every heart." "Do you feel that music flowing through your veins? That's our heartbeat. The children put it forward out of love... Do you know how to love? It is the same as dying..." "Bring me their hearts! Bring me their stomachs! Bring me their bile!" "Do you feel the darkness around you? Do you feel it's torturous path through your mouth and your eyes? until it eats away inside you... Tell me how it feels..." "Now do you realize how worthless you are? How much you deserve the shadow?" "You bring the light. But it betrays you. It knows you are unworthy of its toxic gleam..." "Watch as your skin falls and leaves you exposed and hollow..." "Speak no words! SPEAK NO WORDS!" "You carry a funeral torch... To came here to die..." "Do you feel the claws tearing at your chest? Hush... Hush... Soon there will be nothing.." "You will turn to moss and dust! And we will take the darkness into your world!" "You have done such bad... Bad things... Terrible things it corrodes from within, doesn't it? It feeds and feeds yet it is never sated..." "Ahahaha why must you try so hard? Death is so easy..." "Scratch scratch scratch! Ahahaha." "We vomit fourth the night..." "It doesn't matter if you leave. We are inside you. Your heart, your lungs, your thoughts will all be blackened." "You let him die. You let us take him. But you're glad, are you not? You wished him pain. You wished him undone, unthreaded, unliving!" "We drink the sounds you give us. The cries of your young, the gurgle of a freshly ripped throat, we give thanks for your desperation." "We are coming, for all those you wish to protect, all those you wish to control." "The Dark Guardian shall come and protect us... and all that is flesh and light shall die." "You have done such hurtful things. The people you know shall rejoice in your death." "Do not provoke us with the bonegleam shining from your broken bodies. It is a transgression against the night." "Who made you? Who crafted such slight flimsy forms? You rip like insect wings in our hands." "The light you bring will die. The light inside you will die. All that you are will die." "But you, too, wish for the black void... you tire of your travels, your burdens, the cries of the helpless, the cries of your dead. You too will be swallowed." "We have waited centuries for you." "The children hide in their shells. They have bodies now. Bodies can tear you asunder!" "You are tainted. The stain shall never wash out. The sun will never shine upon you again. Tainted...broken little toys..." "Death beats its wings for you." "Do you see? do you see what you have allowed? We are all shadows now" "You made us do it! you made us!" "Crawl... Crawl!" "Don't fight back, my child! I have cared for you, I have taught you. I have MADE you!" "All that you love will become shadow. All that you see will become death" "You are already dead inside. Join me in the darkness" "You rule over a graveyard... Is that what you wanted?" "You have done terrible things... Did you think that I wouldn't know? Did you think that I would... Allow it?" "Why did you do this to me?" "You would be nothing without me." "I am Shadow... And... Death..." "I only want to care for you... Am I not your father figure?" "The Children, I can't see the children!"

[thegregorybruce]

How Long Can Concrete Last?

The concrete at the top left is brand new. The concrete sidewalk next to it could be sixty, or more, years old Note it’s not cracked, just the top layer has worn off. (C) Copyright 2019 Tim Carter

DEAR TIM: I’m about to have a new concrete driveway installed as well as some sidewalks. I asked the bidding contractors how long I might expect the concrete to last. The range given was from twenty to thirty years. That seems like a long time but I thought it could last much longer. How long can concrete last in your opinion? What can be done to extend the useful life of concrete no matter if it’s flatwork, steps or foundation walls? Tom B., Rockdale, IL

You may wonder the same thing about concrete especially if you’ve been the victim of this man-made artificial rock that’s been installed by a non-professional. Your new concrete might have cracked, the top surface spalled off, or any other number of defects could have been part of your bad luck.

I’d like to share some experiences with you to give you an idea of what’s possible with concrete life expectancy. The first one happens to involve railroads. I was a conductor on a local scenic train for two years and I’ve always been attracted to railroads and how they were built.

I started to notice the concrete abutments and bridge supports at my last home in Cincinnati years ago. One day I happened to see on one abutment a cast date in the concrete. It was 1919! The concrete looked to be in fantastic shape with no cracks, no spalling, and nothing missing. It was dirty of course but otherwise looked almost new. I’ve since looked at other railroad bridge abutments seeing the same old concrete in great shape.

I then remembered taking walks around the older suburb of Pleasant Ridge in Cincinnati that was next to the small village where I lived. There were countless houses built upon slight rises from the street. Many had a set of concrete steps that had a stucco coating over them. These steps were in perfect condition and most, no doubt, were installed in the early 1900s. Stuccoing steps is almost a lost art by the way.

Just a month ago, I drove by the first house I rehabbed in Cincinnati back in 1975. In the fall of that year, I had to install a set of concrete steps from the sidewalk up to the wooden steps leading to the house. I didn’t do everything exactly as I would do today, but the concrete steps looked as good as the day I installed them twenty-four years ago with many a year of harsh winters and no doubt rock salt cast upon the treads for safety! I feel they’ll probably last at least another fifty, or more, years.

While I was back in Cincinnati, I was walking to lunch to meet an attorney friend in Hyde Park. I saw an old sidewalk that was crack-free next to some brand new concrete with a broom finish. The old sidewalk had long since lost its top coating of sand and cement and you could see many of the stones in the concrete. While it may not have looked great, it was still solid and useable. My guess is this sidewalk was installed long before 1950, but that’s just a guess.

It’s important to realize that basic concrete has just four ingredients: sand, stones, Portland cement, and water. The Portland cement is what holds the sand and stones together for years and years assuming you do lots of things right when you mix, pour, finish, and cure your man-made artificial rock.

The more cement you add to your mix the stronger the concrete is going to be. The minimum strength for exterior concrete that most experts recommend is a 4,000 pounds-per-square-inch compressive-strength blend. This is referred to as a six-bag mix per cubic yard of concrete in many areas. The standard bag of cement weighs 94 pounds so you’re talking about having 564 pounds of Portland cement in each cubic yard.

Realize this is a MINIMUM recommendation. Nothing is stopping you from putting in seven or even eight bags per cubic yard. I just checked my local big box store and the retail cost for a bag of cement is $13.75. Would you pay that small additional amount per cubic yard of your new concrete to extend its life by decades? Of course, you would!

But it’s not just a matter of adding more cement. There are so many other things you need to do to get the concrete to last 100 years or more. I’ve gone into great detail about these things in many past columns on my AsktheBuilder.com website. I urge you to read all of them.

Keep the amount of mix water used to mix concrete to a minimum. You do need to add enough water to get the mix to be plastic so you can work it, but not so fluid that it sloshes around inside the forms like watery vegetable soup.

Water is the lightest of the ingredients in the mix and when you’re finishing it, clear water can appear upon the surface as you wait for the concrete to get hard enough to finish. Pros call this bleed water.

NEVER trowel this bleed water into the surface of the concrete. It often evaporates or you can pull it off using a rubber hose you drag across the wet concrete. Troweling the bleed water into the concrete dilutes the amount of cement paste near the surface. You don’t want to dilute the cement paste at the surface!

Corrosion-resistant reinforcing steel, concrete thickness, curing, and solid sub-grade under the new concrete are all very important too. I discuss all this and more in many of my past concrete installation columns. Please check them out!

Column 1327

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