#cause fucking traffic gets bad on the bridge

[everyfandomever]

I swear if the docs dont take my blood after ive been fasting i will be livid

#i have to have an appointment today so i can get my anxiety meds #on my day of birth #soonest day i could do it and its been like a week since i ran out #i technically had another refill but i was refused #had a panic attack after the call to my doctor's office once i realized i had to come in #off my meds #that is genuinely the worse part #though i am starving rn #and i cant sleep so i have like 2 hrs before i have to leave #even tho the appointment is at 8 30 #cause fucking traffic gets bad on the bridge #also gods im dealing with the physical effects of my anxiety rn too #not just the nerves and shaking but also my stomach killing me and my fucking intestines going into over drive #vex spits out random shit #idk yall i just feel like this wont be a good day or a good birthday

[satorubrain]

"wasn't a random text"

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader.

Tags: NSFW. MDNI !!!!!!! Sub!Satoru, a little voyeurism if you squint hard enough, overstimulation, blowjob, handjob, spit, edging, orgasm denial, degradation, slight dumbification, unprotected sex, creampie.

Synopsis: Satoru is bored at home so he sends you a nude while you're in a meeting with the higher ups.

A/N: This is my first time writing smut so💀 AND IM SORRY ITS SO FUCKING LONG I DIDNT THINK I'D WRITE SO MUCH🥹🥹

[ THE LOML WIFEY | 3:34 P.M ]

In a meeting love, please dont spam random texts <3

Satoru sighs looking at your text. He knows you're not coming for another two hours or so. It was one of his rare rest days which you fought for but he'd, at this point, rather be in that goddamned meeting you were in with the higherups if it meant even seeing you.

Instead of going to the meeting, what if the meeting was cutshort and you came home earlier?

Gojo Satoru, is simply incapable of thinking of any good or even coherent ideas. His best idea was to- pull his pants down, adjusting himself on the couch and spread his legs apart before he could start palming himself, getting harder to the thoughts and photos of you writhing underneath him, thinking about how you chanted his name, begging him. God. He needed you. Needed to drink up your juices. Needed to feel your velvety walls squeezing him dry.

He needed a release but him fucking into his fist was not satisfactory at all, he had been failing to reach his high for past twenty minutes, he couldn't wait any longer. Scrambling around to find his phone before setting up the phone on the coffee table to click a pic and send it to you.

[ White Haired Freak | 4:03 P.M ]

[ ATTACHMENT 1 ]

It didn't help that the one presenting right now was you. The notification showed the image of Satoru fucking into his fist, precum rolling down his length down over his fingers, head thrown back with his mouth slightly agape as sweat dripped down his toned porcelain skin.

The room fell silent at the image received from the strongest man, the silence only being broken by another ding caused by Satoru's next message.

[ White Haired Freak | 4:04 P.M ]

Please. Need you so bad

"SHAMELESS BRAT." screeched a few older higher ups as you quickly disconnected before stuffing your belongings in your bag. "Indeed shameless" you muttered but it silenced the room anyways, your face burning in embarrassment as you stomped out, pinching the bridge of your nose.

You acted well enough frustrated, enough for them to empathize with you but little did they know how you smirked the moment you stepped out of the room. Oh you definitely got a kick out of it.

Speeding to your home, you thankfully didn't encounter any traffic. Rushing to your floor before trying to open the door- just to find it unlocked, pushing it open. Witnessing Satoru looking so disheveled just for you, his chest heaving as he looked tired from the failed attempts at a release.

"Filthy. And desperate- almost like a slut" You couldn't help but taunt him and degrade him as you close the door behind you. You held back a smirk at his soft choking on his words with his eyes wide blown. "Don't move" you commanded before fetching yourself a glass of water and finding a purchase on the coffee table in front of him- all while Satoru obediently listened to you.

"Say Satoru, what is it that you need so badly" you whisper, pressing your finger against his already sensitive tip before tracing down his undervein, earning a hitching gasp from him.

"You" he utters, his voice deep and bewitching.

"And why should I give you myself?" you chuckle at the sight of Satoru's eyes pleading you looking at you with disbelief "w-why not?"

"Because you're so out of hand Satoru. So, you're not allowed to touch me today but I'll reward you if you behave like a good boy till the end, hm?" you console him as he chokes out a "y-yes".

Cupping his cheek with one hand before kissing him while the other hand wraps its fingers around the base of his dick, slowly stroking it while giving a gentle twist near the tip, using his precum as lube. His fingers dug into the couch trying to hold himself back from latching onto you as his moans were muffled by your kiss. And within minutes he's whimpering at your mere touch. You're too good he thinks and if this goes on he'll finally get to find his release.

"c-close. 'm close" Satoru breathes "please... fa-ster...love" he whimpers as his hips jerk into your hand in search of a release, forehead resting against yours as he glances through, his heavy eyelids, at your hand doing the work. He was mere seconds away when you unwrap your hand from his dick, resting his back against the couch softly causing him to look at you dumbfounded as the twitching of his body slows down.

"Babe you're getting too agitated. Calm down a bit." You coo, petting his head before giving a gentle peck on his forehead "I'm still fully clothed, help me undress, hm?" you rather order and he gladly obliges.

"Y-yes ma'am" he sighs, quickly stripping you of your external clothes. His fingers linger a few seconds longer on your soft skin as he takes off your bra, licking his lips at the sight of your bare boobs. Biting his lip as his fingers trail down your waist, hooking his fingers into your black laced underwear before pulling them down, gulping thickly to prevent drooling at the view of your slick sticking to your lingerie. His trembling fingers scarcely dig into your skin, his self-restraint hanging on its last thread.

"Please... May I?" he asks politely, his frenzied eyes staring at the tantalizing sight in front of him, slowly leaning forward craving a taste of you on his tongue, wanting to drink down everything your pussy desires to give, almost forgetting his painfully throbbing pressed against his abdomen.

"No. You speak too much Satoru and your hands have no control. Disobedient boys don't deserve pleasure." you sigh, removing his hands, causing him to look at you with such a pained expression, you almost give in to his desires. Before he could voice out his defenses through his slackened jaw, you quickly shove your lingerie in his mouth, somewhat gagging him. His eyes roll to the back of his head the moment your slick mixes with his saliva, eagerly gulping down the taste of you eliciting muffled moans from his throat.

"No touching me or speaking, okay? If you want me to stop, tap my shoulder three times." you softly inform him, establishing a safe action if the need ever comes, to which he gives you a confused tilt of the head followed by an assuring nod.

Placing your lips against his jaw, leaving a trail of wet open-mouthed kisses down his neck before latching onto his sensitive pulse point marking him yours. His gagged moans and grunts, his trembling body only encouraging you to mark him even more. The way he controlled himself by harshly gripping the cushion when you sucked on one of his nipples had your pussy leaking and clenching around nothing.

"Satoru, don't cum until I say so" you instruct making him huff breathlessly as you nestle between his legs before taking hold of his dick and pressing your tongue against the base of it, lapping up his precum before you suck on his swollen tip. Hollowing your cheeks before you take his dick in your pretty little mouth while maintaining eye contact with him gains you a primal guttural moan and you almost might've come untouched.

He is irresistible, you think. You touch yourself, pleasing yourself to his moans as you bob your head on his cock. Playing a cruel game with him- allowing yourself to chase after your high while you deprive him of his multiple times. You're enjoying his suffering far too much. He looks like hes about to break and he perhaps might. Your jaw soon locks after multiple denials, causing your torture to come to a cessation. For a moment you wonder if this is how he feels when he's so lost between your legs because right now you feel the same.

You had denied him of perhaps- sixth? Seventh? Orgasm now and at this point he doesn't know what to expect when he sees you get up and straddle him. Clicking a few photos of his fucked out state before wiping away his few astray teardrops and his drool.

"Please let me come" he begged, probably but nothing could be understood through his muffled "mpffs". You chuckled at his sight yet he still smiled at your sweet sound. You were too evil to your sweet boy.

His senses are too heightened, he almost feels like a virgin all over again. His dick pulses intensely when you align yourself against him. He thinks he might come too quickly when he's inside of you. His warns come off as nothing more than muffled grunts.

You slide down on him too easily, surprising the both of you but lord the way you wrap and clench around him is too perfect, your soft cushiony walls send him over the mood- and the coil in his core breaks- unwillingly. Nails digging into the cushion, tearing holes in them as he tries to not orgasm so quickly after entering you but his body is writhing uncontrollably underneath you, choking out his loud moans with his head thrown back and it doesn't help how you are helping him get through his high by riding him and wrapping your arms around his neck, soothing him down, allowing him to fill you up.

He looks at you desperately before he could try to speak incomprehensibly, you remove the little piece of clothing from his mouth.

"Im sorry- please, please don't leave yet I-" he begs, tears rolling down his cheeks. Hushing him with a kiss stopping his ramble as you let him finally wrap his arms around you.

"Satoru, calm down, I'm right here and all yours" you reassure him, rolling your hips, riding his already hardened, sensitive dick.

You were too much. You quickly fastened your pace, bouncing up on his cock as he supported your weight by gripping your ass.

"F-fuck- too good. feels too good, al-most too much" he cries his nails digging in your ass, spreading them apart as perfectly matches your rhythm, hitting your velvety spot with every thurst.

" sa-toru- 'm close, so close." you yelp, holding him closer, resting your forehead against his, panting against his lips.

"me- me too" he panted "c-come with me baby?" he requested as his own orgasm grew closer every passing second. Supporting you by wrapping an arm around your waist as the other massaged your clit helping you out with your high.

He chanted your name, sobbing, tears rolling down his cheeks as you twitched in his arm cumming around him, your pussy milking him dry of every essence of him as his body writhe under yours, his thrusts slowly getting sloppy yet he kept chasing your highs like an insatiable beast. Riding them out, allowing the both of you to calm in each other's arms as bare bodies clung to each other.

Moments like these make you realize that the two strongest are simply putty in each other's hands- him definitely more than you.

"My sweet love, was that not too mean of you? You could've at least tied me up instead of putting me in such a predicament. Do you know how hard it was to control myself and refrain f-" you hushed his never ending rant with a soft kiss.

"mean? I wonder who sent me such a text" you ponder, raising your eyebrows

"Hey, i never sent you a random text! It was a very specific one- it was an emergency text actually, well two TEXTS to be specific so I wasn't spamming you either. I clearly followed your rules" He defended himself puffing his chest, faking anger at you.

"You're insufferable, Satoru" you joke as you get up to clean the both of you up just when you see Satoru opening his mouth to say something "No. Don't even think of saying a word or even getting up, I will take care of us today."

He sighs knowing it's impossible to change your mind, instead opting to confess "I love you"

"I love you too, Satoru"

"And, y/n, I love you more" he chuckles and you sigh but Satoru didn't lie and so he will always have the last word.

IM DONE!!!!! FUCKING FINALLY!!!!! GOODBYE IM NOW THROWING MYSELF OFF A CLIFF!!!!!!!!

[REQUESTS ARE OPEN]

[MASTERLIST]

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo imagine #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x y/n #satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojou satoru x reader #jjk x reader #gojo fluff #gojo fanfic #gojo satoru smut #gojo smut #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #jjk x y/n #jjk smut #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #jujutsu gojo #jjk satoru #satoru gojo #gojou satoru x y/n #satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen satoru #satoru gojo x y/n #satoru gojo x you

[nebulablakemurphy]

Just read all your shit with Haymitch in it and

A) I’m obsessed with it omfg no one writes for Haymitch AND THAT FACT THAT ITS SO WONDERFUL AND WELL WRITTEN?!?! god it has my heart

B) Y/N going on her fucking Tablets after their first time is so funny for some reason to me, like Haymitch is drowning in his sorrow and she’s just being a lil ipad baby. Like she’s the kind of chick that when their finished to roll over and play clash of clans💀

C) Y/N is sooo mirrorball coded. “I'll show you every version of yourself tonight” the way she forces Haymitch to constantly self reflect that makes him realize how much he admires her selflessness. The chorus is them trying to keep their love something secret and just there’s. AND DO I EVEN NEED TO EXPLAIN THE BRIDGE OMG

D) Not to be a sadist but god I love Haymitch’s internal conflict about feeling so guilty for everything. Also correct me if I’m wrong but him being her highest bidder so she wouldn’t get sold to some creep…my heart💔

anyways the new movie has me back in my hunger games faze and yours fics are all I think about.

I’m not kidding I was zoning out thinking about Lavender Haze today and didn’t slowdown while turning and thank god there was no traffic or else I would have caused a fucking collision

Screaming thank you! Haymitch deserves all the fics, his character has always been so interesting to me.

Y/N is an iPad kid, she’s definitely the type to be like “look, Haymitch.” Whenever she reaches a new level on her games. But the way she whips open her notes app whenever something is wrong it’s like girl, what if Snow hacks the iPad 😂 But on a more serious note, she respects the tablet and understands that it can retain a lot more information than she can especially when it comes to helping her tributes.

Mirrorball is an EXCELLENT representation of Y/N and their relationship.

Haymitch obviously feels so bad that he has to marry Y/N to keep her safe from being sold and then ultimately has to participate in her “working” for the Capitol anyway. He wanted to completely save her but all he can really do is soften the blow.

You’re so real for that, I’m glad you didn’t crash

#moves & countermoves #haymitch abernathy fanfic

[anonymusbosch]

hngbhbtbbhbjnhbllll

car crash happened in front of me (I am fine and people involved are not hurt)

guy completely speeding and weaving thru traffic, I slow down cause I'm like "oh shit this is gonna go bad," and sure he spins out and crosses all the lanes and hits the side of the bridge seconds later

I'm just a few seconds behind. my partner calls 911 and I pull over to check if the driver's okay and see if there are any passengers, give first aid until the EMTs get there

airbags all blown. guy extracts himself. he's able to walk but really staggering and i try to get him to sit down. sometimes people are stumbling like that and they're super injured and they're running on adrenaline, in shock, no idea how injured they are. a previous accident I responded to there was a guy with head trauma bleeding down his face with no idea he was hurt. so I try to get him to sit down so I can check on him but he's not mentally there, he's stumbling so much he tips onto the guardrail and then I'm like "jesus" so I sit down and get him to sit and give me his info (entirely to get him off his feet) and he's just so intoxicated that he can't walk. he was walking like his leg was broken but he's just that smashed. and there's shrapnel all over the bridge. he hit two other cars, they're pulled over, the police are there holding back all the traffic behind us. Everyone in front of us kept going and everyone behind us is blocked by the police. and I try to start to leave because there's real first responders and this guy isn't bleeding and he tries to stop me - he's polite but he wants me to be a witness and I say "dude I saw you screaming down the right lane and weaving in traffic and totally spinning out" and he says "that guy cut me off!" and I say "listen, I didn't get hit, you're not hurt, I'm leaving" and he says some more stuff, he's not belligerent but he's drunk and scared and I want to leave, my legs are shaking and the sirens are loud, and I say I'll make sure the cops have my info, and I drive on and the cop ahead of me waves me down and I realize that oh fuck I left my wallet in the house. but I have a photo of my license and that's good enough and I give the cop my name and phone number and license number and drive off the empty bridge with nothing but the crashed cars and the flashing lights and my arms shaking just a little and I get off the bridge as soon as I can and pull over and stop the car and half start crying. and I dictate what happened in a voice memo and hold my partner's hand and sit there and shake for a minute until I can get my breath and legs beneath me and feel ok to drive the rest of the way home. and I just. this is the... fifth? time? I've responded to a crash that happened but it's the only one that happened while I was also driving. and I sometimes wonder what I would do in some emergency situation and I've learned that I don't necessarily keep my head on straight or pay attention to the right things but I *try* and I do respond. and this is just the first one where I've fully felt my body going haywire even when I'm keeping a cool head, felt my legs shaking like that, felt the bloodrush and the need to go cool off after.... blllaksjfbakla I am home safe and able to just shower and lie down. and I am very glad no one was seriously injured and I am very glad I saw what was about to happen and braked and I am very glad I wasn't 10 seconds further along the road. and I am just. glad to be home

also like last night i got a drink at the bar planning to dance for a while and then pick up my partner to go home and it was wayyyyy stronger than expected so I had to be like "sorry babe I'm gonna need to wait this one out" and ended up taking like an extra full hour (on top of the planned amt of time) and then some before I was 100% good. and so we didn't get enough sleep and were going home early today and I roped us into an extra. 45 mins of delay. with the responding to the crash. and so i am not good at getting partner home early these last couple days. but for. reasons

#what should i tag this #uh #alcohol #car crash #blood #(mention) #injury

[inkpens-coffee]

Maruki Week 2023 - Day 7 🍎

Acceptance / AU / Bad Ending

The old house has been in Takuto’s family for generations; It was a quiet little place out in the countryside. His mom inherited it after his grandfather passed away. Takuto remembered spending summers at the house with his mothers when he was little. It’s been a few years since anyone’s been there so now was a great time to visit again.

The drive was long, Ren was asleep the whole time. They arrived after dark, so Takuto carried the boy inside and laid him down before going to sleep himself. When the early morning sunlight came through the window, all the memories came flooding back; eating watermelon on the porch, playing with his old toys, drawing on the walls. Takuto enjoyed hearing birdsong as he made breakfast, it was far better than city traffic.

“Hi, Maru…” Ren wandered into the kitchen rubbing his eyes under his glasses.

“Hey, Ren. Breakfast is ready, there’s pancakes, eggs, sausages—”

“Spicy sausage?”

“Yes of course, just the way you like it.”

“Go ahead and eat, I have to take my meds.” Takuto pet Ren’s head as he walked past him. While the boy was busy piling food on his plate, Takuto went into the bathroom and quietly shut the door behind him. When his eye caught the mirror, he saw something that wasn't his reflection staring back at him. Takuto sighed, coming forward and leaning on the sink.

“Azathoth,” he addressed the creature.

“How is the child faring?” Their voice echoed in his head causing it to ache.

“Ren is fine… It seems there were no issues in his actualization. However I don’t know how long I can keep him here.”

“Is the answer not obvious, little dream? Had we not interfered the child would have been sentenced to death at the hands of his own companions. Is there happiness to be found should he return to them?”

Happiness… Takuto reached in his pocket and pulled out Ren’s phone. Text notifications obscured a photo of Ren with his friends Ryuji and Ann. Every text was from one of the Phantom Thieves, all of them asking where he was. Even Goro Akechi had sent a message, wondering where Ren had gone. The fucking audacity.

Takuto had to do something when he overheard the thieves stupid stupid plan for Ren to get arrested on purpose and fake his death to trick Akechi. He tried to reason with them, tried to reason with Ren but it was to no avail. That boy and his big, beautiful heart, he was really willing to put his life at risk for his friends even after all he’d already done for them. Even if Ren managed to survive, he was the leader of what people were calling a terrorist group. The police would show him no mercy.

So, on the last day of his tenure at Shujin, Takuto offered to take Ren to dinner at a nice restaurant. In reality, he was taking the boy to his old family cabin. Ren didn’t know any better, he was unconscious the whole ride—courtesy of some drugged cookies Takuto made.

Currently, Ren had no memory of his life in Tokyo. The Phantom Thieves, Shujin Academy, Goro Akechi, all of it was removed with the help of Azathoth’s actualization. His probation was not with Sojiro at Leblanc but here, with Takuto in this little cabin.

He’s the only thing from Tokyo that stayed in Ren’s memory.

“We can cross that bridge when we get to it,” Takuto said. “For now I’m going to keep him safe and happy. Just until I can figure out what to do about Akechi.”

“Very well.” the pain in Takuto’s head spiked, making him hiss, then went away all together. His reflection returned to normal. Takuto pinched the bridge of his nose and looked back at the phone in his hand, one last loose end to tie up.

When Takuto left the bathroom, he found Ren at the table happily eating his breakfast and kicking his legs like a little kid. He looked more awake now, a bubbly smile on his face. Takuto smiled too.

“Is breakfast ok?”

“It’s so good! Thank you, Maru!“

“Don’t be shy to ask for seconds,” Takuto went to make his own plate. “Make sure you get dressed when you’re done, we’re going grocery shopping later.”

“Ok!”

Takuto smiled. Taking a sip of coffee, he looked out the window at the countryside. He missed spending time at this little house and finding all its secrets. His favorite was a hidden space beneath a tile in the corner of the bathroom. It was the perfect place to hide Ren’s broken phone.

#it took a couple days but I finished my last Maruki week prompt! #man I can’t believe I did it all the last minute #p5r #persona 5 royal #ren amamiya #takuto maruki #p5r azathoth #takutomarukiweek2023

[spookyspaghettisundae]

We're Being Played

Morning broke. Night died. Sun rose over the skyline of Las Vegas.

Invisible to the naked eye, a vortex of souls converged on a small diner in Sin City. Inaudible to human ears, the coalescing pool of shattered consciousness screamed as one. The teeming confluence flowed past oblivious faces on sidewalks, like wind traveling between the steel and concrete, engulfing all traffic, and seeping into every crack of every door and window.

Spiraling, churning, it concentrated on that diner, meeting at the eye of the storm. On the woman dubbed Karma.

She got off the chair at the head of the table and slid onto the booth’s cushioned bench, coming to sit right across from Jericho Kane.

“You know,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose, “that waitress just overheard what you were saying. So she’s probably going to go call the cops.”

Karma smiled at him. “So what?”

“Well, I know your game. You want me to run away like a little bitch. Whether that juices up your juju, or you’re really just another sick puppy who enjoys it too much, I don’t really care. I’m not giving you the satisfaction either way.”

The waitress, who had indeed overheard Karma mention her mission to murder Jericho for Michael, dialed 9-1-1 on the phone behind the counter, casting terrified glances at her from across the diner. The rest of the patrons looked oblivious.

The sun rose behind Karma. It cast her shadow upon Jericho, and formed a strange halo around her head.

The vortex of souls screamed at her.

Incapable of devouring the light.

Her light.

Death had twisted them. The churning void screamed at Karma to inflict the same perceived injustices upon others, just as she had inflicted injustice upon them.

In such ethereal form, Karma was deaf to their voices. The clarity of her mind firmly rooted Karma on this side of the veil, incapable of perceiving their ghostly presence.

They called to the machete hidden inside her leather jacket. They remembered the cracked white porcelain mask, the last face they had seen before she ended their lives.

Like most other people, Karma could not perceive the vortex of souls. Neither could Jericho. With dour mien, he glared at her.

He asked, “Isn’t this the part now where you hurl more petty insults at me? Call me stupid and tell me to run away? ‘Cause I’m telling you, I ain’t playing your game, asshole.”

The waitress cupped a hand over her mouth as if that could hide what she was speaking into the phone’s receiver. Her face screamed at Karma with the same fear that the teeming souls had experienced in their last moments.

Wide-eyed. Sensing the unstoppable force of Karma.

Blank in the face of a living, walking, breathing terror.

“And you know what?” Jericho added. “Fuuuuck you. It was only days ago that I wanted to die, that I tried to make it happen myself. I tried pulling the damned trigger to blow out my own damned brains and it refused to work.”

He put a finger to his head and cocked his thumb to illustrate the notion.

Peeling her gaze away from the terrified waitress, and leveling her attention fully on Jericho, Karma told him, “Well, dipshit. I reckon I said I have great news for everybody, but it’s kind of good news and bad news, all jumbled up, just depending on who you are and how you’re looking at it.”

“What are you fucking babbling about? Please, spare me this crap. I didn’t know you talked this much when you ended people, and I’m already fed up with it. I always figured you were more of a—I don’t know—a Halloween, Jason Voorhees kind of type? What is this shit?”

Karma’s smile faded as she pondered how to frame things. Then she offered him a lopsided grin.

He was right. The police would show up soon enough. Karma had no desire to kill a bunch of officers.

Not today.

She had something else in mind.

“Shut the fuck up and listen,” she snapped at Jericho. “Michael told me to kill you so the agents of the House of Change can’t get to you and you can’t blab to them.”

“Well, whoop-de-doo, I don’t wanna get caught by those freaks, anyway. I can go off myself right now, I’ll just go shop around for some booze and sleeping pills, hit up a roach-infested motel, and call it a night. Couldn’t you fuckers have just told me on a phone call? I’m so tired of seeing you assholes face to face.”

Karma sensed a lie in there. She sensed that glimmer all her victims shared.

That spark. The suicidal ones possessed it.

That will to live.

He was lying. She had never seen that glimmer in him before. Something had changed, but she wasn’t vested in exploring his inner workings.

“I don’t work for Michael, stupid,” she told him. “I work for Klemens. If Klemens told me to kill you, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. You’d be running for your life until I corner you and gut you like a fish.”

Jericho leaned back in his seat. His brow scrunched up in genuine confusion.

Karma continued, “Much as I hate your guts, I prefer it if they stay inside your pasty Doughboy belly. I enjoy watching you squirm like the pathetic worm you are. I enjoy your suffering way too much, shit-head. So if I’m not getting a direct order from Klem, I’m not doing shit. As much as I shit on you, I hate Michael way more than you. That smug fuck. You know, I dream of the day Klemens tells me to end him, because, let me tell you,” she paused as she leaned over the table, locking her murderous eyes onto Jericho’s, and speaking in the most seductive voice she could muster, “I have so many fantasies about that.”

She tried not to envision them now. Tried to stay focused.

Jericho squinted at her. The gears were turning behind his forehead.

He looked so stupid to Karma.

She flinched when he slapped his palm against the table—all cutlery and plates and coffee cups clinked and rattled upon its surface.

He blurted out, “Thank—fuckin’ thank you.” He enunciated every syllable with comically sharp clarity. “I cannot believe we finally agree on something. Fuck. Michael. Holy shit. You know, what I just saw, before I got here, he—”

“Yeah, whatever,” Karma interrupted him. “Let’s get out of here, talk elsewhere. That waitress called the cops. I already killed someone today and it was fun. I don’t have appetite for piling up a bunch of bodies right now.”

She snatched a fry off the plate on Jericho’s side of the table and ate it in front of him, hoping to provoke a reaction.

To her disappointment, Jericho ignored her, crammed a fist inside his black leather jacket’s pocket, and produced some crumpled dollar bills which he littered the table with while getting up.

Before he could head for the door, Karma slid out of the booth, grabbed him by the arm, and yanked him around.

She shrugged off whatever daggers he stared at her and pulled him along behind her like a little child in her hand.

Instead of heading to the diner’s front door, she walked them to the doors leading to the toilets.

On the way, she renewed her eye contact with the waitress.

Winked at her. Drank the fear she glimpsed in the waitress’s frozen grimace.

The vortex of souls screamed at Karma. Their essence lingered in the shadows cast by the rising sun.

Karma smiled to herself, knowing how much this would confuse the waitress and the cops. As she pushed through the swinging doors and dragged Jericho along, they stepped from one space into another. The room behind those doors was not the hall the doors were supposed to lead to, but the way space folded when she willed it so.

They had passed through the bathroom doors into a closed record shop a few blocks down the street. Past endless rows and shelves of compact discs and vinyl records and band merchandise, she kept dragging Jericho along behind her, marching towards the next door in the back of the store, labeled EMPLOYEES ONLY.

“Okay, enough,” Jericho protested. “Let me go, I’m not some kind of fuckin’ child. We can hoof it from here like normal people.”

Karma squeezed his arm tighter, to the point where she knew it hurt him, and smiled to herself as he grunted in discomfort. She kept dragging him, right through the next door.

Instead of leading into the private office in the shop, they stepped into a busy kitchen of some fancy hotel, yet another few blocks down the road. Brightly lit, with steam rising from pots and pans and the smell of food sizzling and bubbling everywhere around them, several cooks in their white attire looked up from their stations.

“Uh, you can’t be in h—”

“Fuck off,” Karma said. Her words cut like knives.

The chef clammed up in response.

Never stopping once, she continued frog-marching Jericho through the huge kitchen until they pushed through the door to the hotel’s restaurant.

It instead led into a back alley between different buildings, several blocks away yet again, now on the opposite side of the Strip, where a tired-looking man looked up at them from the crates he was hauling outside.

He only shook his head and continued working as the odd couple passed him by through the alley, disappearing into the next door, and reappearing another three blocks down the road, in a paved lot behind a department store.

A truck honked and then beeped, backing up to a loading bay with painful slowness. A shout here, workers shuffled around in the back, and Karma finally let Jericho go.

The screaming vortex had followed them all the way there.

It formed the black holes through which she stepped whenever she used doorways to phase from one place to another.

Jericho glared at her and rubbed his arm through the leather jacket.

To continue belittling him as she so enjoyed doing, Karma leaned against the wall and buried her hands in her sweatpants’ pockets, with the casual air of a high school drug dealer she used to know.

“Now… we got some breathing room. Let’s talk.”

Jericho shot a glance over his shoulder at the workers, all too busy and likely paid too little to pay any attention to the two strangers at the edge of their employer’s lot. Well out of earshot.

He hugged himself. Emitted a weary sigh.

“Why does Michael want me dead now?”

“I wanted to ask you the exact same thing,” she said with a smirk. “Because you sure as hell were never that important.”

He clicked his tongue and sighed in frustration.

“Gimme a break. You love murder. You don’t really care who you kill.”

She shrugged. “You ain’t wrong about that.”

“And that’s something that you and Michael have in common. Probably even that FBI director, Collins. Unlike you fucks, I don’t actually enjoy killing people. I’m not saying I’m, like, sane, or—”

“Let me stop you right there. I have very little in common with Michael. He and I are very different. He murders to work his magick, like the man who kneels in church, begging God for answers to his prayers. I murder because I like it. That thrill of the hunt, the sweet stink of your fear. I work magick because I am your god, your own personal reaper.”

Jericho scoffed and threw his arms up. “All smells like the same bullshit to me, whichever way you wanna word it. You trade your time and soul for some fleeting power.”

Karma laughed.

“Capitalism has poisoned your mind, dumb-dumb. You only see trade, exchange, everywhere. Like some kind of alchemy for idiots. Like you need lead to make gold. You can waste your life looking for a way to do that, or you can just look for gold. Gold is gold. Gods are gods.”

“And, like, what—you think you’re a god? You’re just some crazy-ass psycho chick who has got more power than she has any right to have.”

Her confident smile faded. He had struck upon a vein of truth.

“That’s the gold, Jerry Can. Doesn’t matter what I deserve or not. I don’t pay a price to walk through those doors, walk through time and space like they’re nothing, or deal death like it’s nothing.” She poked his chest, provoking a grimace from him before she added, “My nature is not transactional. I’m a wolf, you are sheep, and I’m a wolf because you know you need to fear my teeth.”

Still sporting the grimace, he asked, “Still not seeing the difference between you psycho fucks. Aside from him being able to cure cancer and see the future, and you can just—what, teleport through doors? Wow.”

“The difference is, Michael is—you know what? Forget it. This is stupid. You’re stupid. Just tell me what you think you did to piss him off so spectacularly that he turned to me to end your sorry existence.”

“I don’t know. You may have not been paying attention, but I’m pro league at pissing people off.”

“Yes, yes, you’re an asshole. It’s your biggest strength, we all know that. But unless you have a hunch as to what you did to warrant a magick hit on you, I have some thoughts of my own, and I’d like you to help me workshop some ideas here.”

He rolled his jaw and studied her with a skeptic air about him. Bit his lip until he noticed her scanning his every tiny expression.

“Okay,” he said. He patted himself down until he found a pack of cigarettes, produced a smoke, and lit it up. “I’m kinda… well, color me intrigued now. Kind of a new experience to not be left out of the thought processes of your shitty little cabal.”

“You’re part of it, jackass. I don’t know what Klem sees in you, but you must serve some purpose we’re all not seeing. To give you some credit, I think you play dumber than you are.”

Jericho blew out smoke. Stayed quiet. Stewed on that.

She continued, “I think Michael wants to cover his tracks. And I think he wants me dead in the process.”

“Like I could kill you? Please.”

“No, stupid. Obviously not you. But if I’m offing you without getting the okay from Klemens, I might have our king cracking down on me. And I…”

“Are you afraid of Klemens?” Jericho’s tone shifted, hitting a surprisingly sympathetic note. “Why do you even work for him in the first place?”

The vortex screamed behind Karma.

The sun had risen so high that it illuminated the whole lot, and warm light bathed her face.

She closed her eyes before the cold blue in them could sparkle, before they could glitter like luminescent gold upon ocean waters, and change the fearsome image she knew Jericho had of her.

“He never threatened me, and I don’t think he ever will,” she finally said, with an eerie softness to her every word. “He… praised the purity, the beauty of my art. He showed me how I could find ever greater strength in it.”

Silence fell between them. The truck at the loading bay chugged and rumbled, some workers shouted at each other. The world kept on turning.

Karma exhaled sharply.

Jericho said, “That’s fucked up.”

“Fuck you,” she muttered.

“I’m not sorry. It’s fucked up. Typical for him to blow sugar up your ass for—what, murder? Art? You’re all out of your fuckin’ gourds. You’re just an assassin who can teleport.”

This comment struck the flint in her belly, shedding a spark of anger in her gut.

Karma kept that place perpetually clean. Healthy diet, disciplined living, seeking harmonious rhythm in everything. Her body was a temple, and her mind a monastery of order and cleanliness, just like every space she inhabited.

No dry wood nor junk there, not even dust—nothing that could catch fire from the tiny spark of such petty insults.

Jericho Kane, as far as she was concerned, understood so little about the cosmos despite meddling in its mysteries that it bordered on something comedic.

“Maybe, one day,” she said with lasting softness, “you’ll wake up and see you’re the punchline to every shitty joke you make.”

She opened her eyes and looked away from the light, albeit staying firmly rooted in its soothing radiance.

In lieu of his response, she added, “But I’m not holding my breath.”

This, in turn, had struck a nerve with him.

He quietly smoked until her cold gaze drilled too deep into his tortured soul, and he averted his eyes.

“Klemens is my only friend in this world,” she said. “Neither you nor Michael are. He appreciates what I do. And I appreciate his sense of justice. I take some pride in being the royal executioner, if you will. And you—”

Karma poked a finger at him.

“You are not scheduled for the chopping block. At least not yet.”

He glared. Not at her, but down the street, to where traffic drifted by.

“He also promise you the, what, 'world of our desires’? Is that it? There’s something you want, only he can help you find?”

Karma shook her head.

“Forget it. Let’s focus. What did you do?”

Jericho ruffled his already messy hair and took a nervous drag from his cigarette.

“Fuck, man, I don’t know. Michael’s done some seriously fucked up shit. He sacrificed three people right in front of me and almost fried my brainpan to scry on that FBI agent, Parker.”

“Par for the course with him. What did you do?”

“Nothing. Nothing!” Jericho groaned, pacing back and forth on the spot, now lost in his own meandering thoughts. His mind was probably as much of a mess as his appearance, Karma reasoned.

At least he was thinking now.

“Did you say anything, do anything?”

“No! He pulled that shit and he gave me, I don’t know—he is giving me really bad vibes. Like he’s plotting to do some fucked up shit, way beyond his normal level of fucked up. He knows exactly what the old man is after, and it finally clicked for me. He’s after it himself, and to hell with Klemens, and you, or me, or anybody else. And—”

“I don’t give a shit about your vibes, you’re as bright as an unflushed turd in a toilet. What. Did you. Do?”

Jericho raised a hand, a finger outstretched, then shook his head.

“I didn’t do jack-shit, I was planning to go back to the ranch and talking to Klemens about—”

“You were thinking about it.”

“Yeah I was,” he froze. “He can’t read thoughts. Right? Shit. Fuck-shit. Can he read minds?”

“No, stupid,” she said with a sigh. “I don’t think he can. But he has visions of the future, and he must have seen something involving you he didn’t like. So, rewind. You were thinking about going to the ranch to tell Klemens. Talk to him about what? What were you going to tell Klemens?”

“Are we fucking workshopping your theories now or workshopping what I need to tell Klemens?”

“Maybe both,” she said, arching her brow for emphasis. “Focus, dummy. What are you going to tell Klem?”

Jericho flicked the smoking cigarette butt away from himself, spraying embers over pavement. “I think Michael is…”

Karma rolled two fingers, wordlessly urging him to think faster. Like she had to rev the engine of his brain. “Michael is… Michael is what?”

“I don’t know!”

“Looking for that book… for Klemens. Why is he looking for the book for Klemens?”

“Because… Klemens asked him to?”

“And why is Klemens looking for the book?”

“I don’t fucking know. He’s the,” Jericho stuttered, as if he struggled to admit something in the process, “he’s the damned… h-h-he’s the king, you know, the guy sitting at the center of THE HIGHWAY, that crazy old German fuck is pulling all the strings. He wants to reshape reality with the book or some such shit. Everybody keeps saying it allows time travel, or dimensional travel, or whoever the hell knows what.”

Karma shook her head. “Why does Klemens know of this book, or even what it’s supposed to do?”

Jericho fell silent. His eyes widened.

“Because Michael told him about it,” he muttered, the words dying into weaker and weaker whispers as they escaped his lips.

“Mhm,” she murmured. Finally, he had started thinking. High time to encourage him further. “Now, riddle me this. You know I don’t see the future, I can’t read minds, and I can’t just murder you if I feel like it but don’t know where in the world you are. How, do you think, did I find you in that diner just now?”

Jericho nodded. Licked his lips. His eyes flashed with cascades of realizations.

“Michael told you where I’d be.”

Karma nodded. “Yeah. And you ever stop to wonder how those House agents found you in Chicago, a place you got no business being in?”

“Oh, fuck me,” he groaned. “Shit, fuuuuck. We’re being played.”

“And that—that’s who I am. That’s how I’m different from Michael. I obey the laws of nature. I am a god among men because that is the role nature gave me, not one I lay claim upon. I do not see myself as standing taller than my king. I only kill, and I revel in death. Klemens builds. He creates. He made all this.”

With a sweeping gesture of an arm, she meant to show him the whole world, and all the beauty she saw in it. Karma meant it with every fiber of her being.

Jericho, stunned, only stared blankly into a grimy corner of the alley, leading out of the lot behind the department store. His nicotine-stained fingers twitched. He itched with the urge to take action.

Karma felt it. Burning inside his heart.

Behind her, the vortex of souls silently screamed.

They wished for her not to spare him, but to ply her blood-riddled trade. To add his spirit to their dark ranks. To swallow him in that ever-growing sea of dust and shadow, to which all minds connected, both living and dead—in this city, and in every city, and on every road, and in every gloomy corner of the vast world.

The screams melted into whispers on the wind, a warm breeze through the brick and steel of buildings, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on edge.

She almost glimpsed the cloud of screaming darkness behind her.

Almost.

Here, she stood firmly in the light.

Jericho remained speechless.

Thus, she spoke instead. “Michael… he doesn’t follow any rules but his own. A snake who wants to take what Klemens built, and I’ll bet my life on him seeing himself as greater than any of us combined. He does not obey the laws of nature. He thinks he stands outside of it all. He thinks he can make the rules. So, what say you—how about we finally put the smug conniving fuck in his place?”

Jericho locked eyes with her. He smoldered with a determination so alien to his demeanor that he almost looked like another person altogether.

For a split-second, this almost threatened to instill in her a shred of respect for him.

Almost.

He immediately destroyed that himself. His usual sledgehammer to the glass window.

He finally replied, “Fuckin’ right we will. I hate that sick fuck. Let’s go, right now, take me to the old man. We tell him everything we just talked about. He’s gotta see reason, right? If he hasn’t blasted his mind into oblivion over building that new homunculus, he’s gotta see reason.”

“Okay,” Karma said. “Good to see you’re not as stupid as I think you are. Just… one more thing before we go. I have one question, and there will be hell to pay if I find out you lie to me about this.”

Jericho clenched his jaw and hooked his thumbs into his pockets, shifting his weight with an air of newfound confidence. Or a complete lack of self-regard. She could never tell those apart in him.

“Shoot,” he said.

“That old green book they want. You don’t want to take that for yourself, do you?”

Jericho’s face twisted with revulsion. He looked like he loathed the very thought of it.

“That stupid fucking book? Fuck no. If it does what Michael claims it does, I’d stay the hell away from that shit. Miles away. Fuck that book. Fuck no. The sooner I stop hearing about it, the better. Why,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “You want that book for yourself?”

“No,” she said. “Everything about it stinks. Whether the story’s true or not. After all the candor I graced you with, you should understand me better now. But let me spell it out for you. I don’t fuck with rituals and relics. They’re just a fast lane to the looney bin, or getting put six feet under too soon. No thank you. Pass. It can burn in hell for all I care.”

Jericho swiveled, rubbed his face, and ran his hands through his hair, projecting an air of exasperation.

He groaned again and said, “I can’t fucking believe I’m agreeing with you, out of all people—out of all the fucking people in this fucked-up world, I’m agreeing with you. It’s like fuckin’ opposite day.”

“Cool,” she said. “Are you done pissing against the wind? Ready to speak with Klemens? Can we go now?”

Jericho nodded, producing another cigarette from his pocket, lighting it up in the fluid motion of a chain-smoker. She despised that vice.

The vortex screamed behind Karma. The shadows watched. Saw all of existence meeting again at a new crossroads.

She could not hear those tormented cries, now crying for her blood as the door opened behind her, and a different brand of death presented itself.

While Jericho stuffed away his cheap plastic lighter, the cigarette drooped and then dropped from the corner of his mouth. Tiny embers exploded from the cancer stick’s tip where it landed on the dirty asphalt between his old boots.

If the vortex of souls could not experience the injustice of adding this sad man to their ranks, then it yearned to witness a different breed of justice.

Karma turned to investigate what Jericho had seen—whatever had frozen him with such shock and awe.

An Asian man and an African American woman had stepped out of the door.

The man cracked a smile over the heavy pistol he was gripping in both hands, pointing its muzzle at Karma’s heart with expert discipline, and just enough range to ensure its accuracy, but too much range for Karma to lunge at it.

The woman stayed stony-faced as her eyes darted back and forth between Jericho and Karma, keeping her shotgun trained so its blast could blow away both of them with a pull of the trigger.

“Hi, guys,” said the Asian man with jovial music to his tone. “Heard we’d find you here.”

The vortex of dead souls screamed.

Justice awaited.

Karma’s entire body turned into taut steel wire, poised to act. Her mind raced through every scenario—she could only avoid one weapon’s shot but not the other. She could move but get hit by both. Use Jericho as a living shield, get winged, and pushed farther away from the nearest door. Push into the two agents from the House of Change to surprise them, still getting shot in the process.

And Michael wouldn’t be healing her injuries this time around.

This was what he had orchestrated.

The pieces had all fallen into place.

The vortex screamed. Michael had been whispering sweet nothings to it for the longest time. Unlike Karma, he used his rituals to stay in touch with the souls of the dead, to bleed them of their secrets, and bind them into new flesh.

“We,” said the black woman, “are going to skip the whole rigmarole. Don’t even think about it. We’re not going to shoot you now, we’re going to take this door, go to our boss, and talk like civilized people together. No bloodshed necessary.”

“Just a friendly little chat,” said the Asian man.

“I’m so tired of talking,” Jericho said, “can you please, just, shoot me now?”

“You wanna talk?” Karma asked. “Don’t listen to him. We can talk, alright. I’d love to meet your boss. I’d love to talk.”

The Asian man feigned amusement with a short mock laugh. “Yeah, sure. Just drop whatever guns you got, Aileen Wuornos. You too, Bonzo.”

“Bonzo?” Jericho scoffed. “Oh, fuck you.”

Karma held up a hand and carefully opened her leather jacket, exposing the machete and porcelain mask.

The vortex screamed at that cold emotionless face, resting inside the fold her coat.

Workers in the storage area beyond the loading bay finally caught wind of this situation. The sight of guns spooked them, signaled by an audible gasp in the distance, and three people fleeing deeper into the bowels of the department store while garage doors slammed shut.

Pinching her weapon of choice between two fingers to signal compliance, Karma pulled the machete out and unceremoniously dropped it. The blade clattered on the ground, alongside Jericho’s revolver.

The Asian man clicked his tongue. “'Kay, I’m satisfied. You try anything, Miss Ford’s gun right here is loaded with explosive shells, and she will, uh, turn you two into paste.”

He raised his gun, signaling a truce was on. Taking a step back, eyes glued on Karma, he opened the door to the building.

It did not lead into the building, but a long corridor.

A long, narrow corridor yawned beyond that door. The velvet blue carpet inside looked like it belonged in a fancy old New England building. The light fixtures on the walls inside the corridor looked like they came from an era several decades past, fashioned from polished brass, and featuring a design altogether alien to whatever commercial basement the door should have revealed instead.

Karma tilted her head. Part of her desired to know how they did that.

She knew how to step through doorways, effortlessly crossing distances in an instant, but she could not open doors like that for others. Only pull them through with her.

The vortex of souls screamed louder.

Their thirst for blood—her blood—would stay unquenched.

Guiding the Asian man’s gesture of invitation, Karma entered the door, entering that mysterious corridor. Jericho muttered profanities as he followed.

When Miss Ford shut the door behind them all, the vortex could not follow. It had been locked out from this otherworld.

Separated from Karma for the first time since her first murder, the vortex screamed into an endless void.

#spoospasu #spookyspaghettisundae #horror #short story #writing #literature #spooky #fiction #mystery #THE HIGHWAY #surreal #hyperrealism #magick #occult #ritual #relic #Karma #Jericho Kane #murder #power #teleport #synchronicity #Jung #alchemy #citrinatas #rebirth #shadow #death #doorways #betrayal

[mtreebeardiles]

The Paths You Take Update

Been sitting on this mostly finished for some time now, and a fresh re-read...yeah, I think it's okay to adjust my timetable a bit. Outlining was never my strong suit, and the story will get there when it gets there

Full chapter on AO3!

"So on a scale from one to royally fucked, how bad do you think our reception is gonna be?"

The question was rhetorical, one he didn't expect SAM to answer let alone consider, but the words had been weighing heavy on his chest ever since they'd gotten back to the Tempest. So much had been riding on Khi Tasira actually being Meridian and discovering that it wasn't…

Well. 

He wasn't sure what the Director was going to do, exactly, but he didn't doubt Tann would find some way to punish him. Publicly? Privately? Strip him of his tenuous rank, or find some other way to pen him in? There wasn't much the Salarian could do about SAM's connection to Scott but that didn't mean he wouldn't try to order some research into how to tear them apart, pass the mantle on to someone he could bring to heel. 

I won't let that happen, Scott.

We might not have a choice here, Big Guy. 

Other factors to consider, too, like the mysterious "Benefactor" mentioned in his father's memories. He wished there was some way to jump start the rest of them, unlock them deliberately to give him some actual fucking direction, but the trigger method was as random as ever. No rhyme or reason for all they were coming more frequently these days, and Scott wasn't sure if that was because he was mentally where the blocks felt he needed to be or if that domicile back on Kadara had caused it. 

Speaking of… He chewed a thumbnail, turning on his heel and striding back to the other side of his quarters. SAM, how's our uh… special package doing?

It is en route to Kadara, Scott. I estimate it should be docking by the time we reach the Nexus.

No issues from the Scourge?

Some, the AI admitted, but it is not without shielding, and I was able to cloak some of the signals. It should make it to its destination relatively intact. 

Scott huffed out a breath at that, feeling his shoulders relax a touch. At least something had gone right back there. Something he had no intention of sharing with anyone aside from SAM and Reyes, of course, but still. 

Worse comes to worse we could always go pirate. 

An idle fantasy, so far-fetched from the reality of space piracy that he had to laugh at an imagination better suited to the boy he'd been than the man he was. He'd encountered plenty of real-life pirates back on Arcturus and the grim truth had stripped the veneer of excitement right off all those holo-vids he'd watched as a kid. 

Shame, he thought, pacing the other direction, Reyes already has the swagger down. 

Scott, your breathing is elevated.

"I know," he whispered aloud. Shaking fingers snaked through his hair and he made an effort to measure his breaths, counting the inhales and exhales the way he'd been taught. "I'll be alright."

Will you, though? he thought. You fucked up, just like you always fuck up, only this time its gonna cause a bunch of people grief. His team, the science team, the other Pathfinders and their teams… 

"Fuck."

"Scott?"

He didn't respond, his pacing picking up in speed. Any hopes of establishing an independent entity with the Pathfinders were probably toast, too, after this little stunt. He'd just been so fucking sure… 

He ran a hand over his face, coming to a stop. Breathe in, breathe out. There was nothing he could do about any of it right now, and sliding deeper into a panic wasn't going to help anyone.

Easier said than done. 

"Scott?"

"Yeah, SAM?"

"Suvi wishes to speak with you on the bridge," the AI intoned. "She has an idea."

----

Reyes leaned his elbows against the rail on the upper deck of the docking bay, sequestered in a corner that gave him the best view. He was cloaked, having gotten into position carefully, spot chosen for its overall lack of foot traffic and sensors. 

The Tempest was due to land at any time, and he was eager to watch the show. 

A sizable crowd was already filtering in, Tann once again trying to command center stage by propping himself up on a pedestal in more ways than one. A looming figure cut above the rest of them, and Reyes wondered if it was an appeal to his desire for power, some show of force in the face of the unexpected. 

Scott Ryder may have been an overt catalyst interrupting carefully laid plans, but Reyes Vidal was the curve ball the Director would never see coming. 

His eyes scanned for other notables in the group arrayed right before the Tempest's usual berth, taking note of who was and wasn't present. Kandros was there, in deep discussion with Pathfinders Rix and Vederia; Kesh wasn't too far from them, reviewing something on her omni-tool. Pathfinder Hayjer was speaking to one of his own team, illustrating his point with waves of the hand, and Addison… 

Addison was conspicuously absent.

Reyes couldn't help but grin in self-satisfaction, resettling more comfortably against the railing. 

In the distance he spotted the telltale signs of a ship pulling in from FTL, a flash and distortion of space that manifested the vessel in question. The Tempest smoothly lowered to her berth, and the gathered crowd buzzed with renewed excitement. 

Details from their trip to Khi Tasira were sketchy at best, and due to the delicate nature of his stay on the Nexus Reyes hadn't been able to risk any direct forms of communication. But he had managed to snag copies of the data the Pathfinder team had sent ahead, availing himself of the science team's terminals via Sentinel, and knew that while Meridian itself had not been located the information gained supported Scott's assertions that the Remnant technology was important to the healing and growth of Heleus. 

Theory may not have been practice, but it was a solid starting point. 

Reyes straightened as the doors opened, intent on the group stepping through them. Scott's team looked…tired. Worn out, tense, and Scott himself looked a little rough around the edges. Reyes frowned, fighting the urge to break his cover and go to his partner. Had something happened? Had he been hurt, like he had on the Archon's ship? That episode had set Scott off-kilter for weeks, and he still had nightmares. Reyes bit his lip, fingers clenching against the rail, and willed Tann to get on with the pointless puffery already. 

"Our brave Pathfinder Ryder returns!" the Director announced needlessly, striking the same jovial tone he'd managed when Scott had brought back the Salarian Ark. Scott froze, having been eyeing the crowd and now looking at Tann like he'd grown an extra head. 

Not the reception you were expecting, mi amor? Reyes's frown deepened. He supposed he could understand why Scott may have thought his return would be decidedly less welcome, but surely he knew Reyes would've taken care of it?

Maybe Keema has a point, he thought, biting at the inside of his lip, I really ought to tell him how I operate. Not all of it, perhaps, but enough to ensure his partner understood that Reyes had his back, that their relationship wasn't some one-sided affair where the only one getting any clear benefits was Reyes. Not that he thought Scott saw it that way, but he did, sometimes, despite himself. 

He wanted a future with Scott -- and maybe he didn't know what shape it would take, but he knew he wanted the chance to find out. 

"Uh."

Scott was still staring up at Tann, poleaxed, and to Tann's credit the Director recovered quickly. Tugging Scott up by the hand and Reyes bit back his flash of irritation at the way the Director still thought he could handle Scott like that, and the Salarian slipped an arm around the confused young man's shoulders. 

"The data acquired on this research mission confirms the suspicion that Meridian is the key to our future here in Heleus," Tann was saying, ignoring how stiff Scott was beside him. "We have a long way to go yet to locate this incredible find, but I'm sure after some proper rest and assessments for next steps our courageous Pathfinders will set out to obtain it for the Initiative."

"For Heleus."

They were the first real words Scott had spoken since stepping off the ship, and maybe they were a bit rough but his tone was clear and his voice carried. Reyes glanced around, following his partner's gaze to a group of Angaran diplomats arrayed near the cultural center. Several of them had folded their arms over their chests, looking less than pleased, but upon meeting Scott's eyes a few of them nodded in acknowledgment. 

Scott seemed to be reviving, stepping out from Tann's hold and addressing the crowd at large. Fingers fighting their fidgets and Reyes knew he was trying his best, and couldn't help the surge of pride he felt as the other man got his bearings. 

"These finds are crucial for all of us -- Angaran, Krogan, Turian, Salarian, Asari, and human -- if we want to create a sustainable, thriving life in this cluster. The Kett threat extends to Meridian, and therefore to that dream; we have to stop them, and get to it first.

"We managed to foil them at Khi Tasira," Scott went on, hopping down from the platform. After a moment Tann followed suit, the crowd parting to make way for the young Pathfinder. Reyes felt himself smiling again, applauding the tacit message this move sent: I am not above you. I am of you, and I work with you. "We were challenged by one of the Archon's best, and emerged victorious." Scott held up a hand to forestall the burst of cheers this news brought. "But we have a lot of work ahead, and it's going to take all of us to reach that dream." 

He looked around, meeting the eyes of those closest to him, and nodded. Summoned a smirk that was more of the Scott they were all used to and said, "Now, if you’ll excuse us -- my team and I are very hungry."

Ripples of laughter and the crowd willingly began to disperse, making room for the Pathfinder and his team to get by. On the platform above Reyes began to move, a silent shadow trailing after them. 

#my writing #The Paths You Take #mreyder #Scott Ryder #Reyes Vidal #Scott x Reyes #Mass Effect: Andromeda #longer preview since i think i already shared the first bit of this before a while back

[fansideblogtocjcherryth]

Notes From Book 7 Destroyer

from October the 7 of this year

Holy hell this has 13 whole fucking chapters in it. Holly shit.

1

First description is the fuck ton of spider plants in brens room. They are litterally makeing as the description says "clouds of miniature pale edged spider babys "

Bren wishes he brought tomatoes instead.

He's begun to learn Greek and is working on a kyo grammar.  

He still write to his brother about everything.

Caljeiri is starting to get in trouble with being friendly with artur , gene and irene , three human children he meet.

4149 poeple on board the ship.

The idea of cajeiri being corrupted by the concept of a birthday is so fucking funny.

The idea of ilisidi locking herself inside her cabin to avoid the number 8 birthday because atevi will happily celebrate numbers like  9 but numbers like 8 are a big no-no . 

Cajeiri kind of being more close to humans is kind of worrying everyone who knows why , including bren.

He is told that jase wishes to see him, to tell him that they are finally close to home.

He gose to tell ilisidi of the good news. Jago and banichi join him. 

Ilisidi is extremely happy about the news and the invitation to the bridge of the ship.

Bren tries to help cajeiri feel better about the situation of his birthday. He is also worried about seeing not seeing his friends from the ship , Bjorn , irene , Arthur and Gene . 

Gin Kroger full name Dr Virginia Kroger is doing fine as ever. Barnhart and Jerry are with her as well.

He admits that he is gonna miss ginny.

2

He write to his brother his hopefully last letter to his home. 

He also writes to tabini about what has happened with his son.

Bren is in bed, working about where jago is and Braddock might try some shit. Also worried about the kyo.

Narani comes to warn him he might need to be secure about the ship dropping. 

He rushes to get dress from bed.

He gets worried when jago gets a bit injured.

For some reason some one putted a ship in front In their to , putting then in traffic in space. For some reason the ship is a unused mining ship. 

Ogun is speaking on C1 thank goodness. The bad news is a yes. Something is wrong with the continent mainland.

Ilisidi is pissed at that news. Good news is that geigi is okay.

Well that is one way of making a character loose everything to make them want to get everything back.

Geigi is on the phone and the bad news is definitely an oh shit , tabini is missing , kadigidi might be behind the assassination,  and the western association is fractured and in a civil war 8 months ago. Good news is that President shawn Tyer's and lord geigi are still by their side and where waiting for them all to come back.

Tatiseigi is in his estate and damiri is not with him.

Well this whole shit show is gonna look ugly for the other humans They brought along.

They have to carefully sneak themselves in there to keep potential enemies of tabini from seeking them out.

It's kind of surreal that his room was stripped of the spider plants and everything he first saw . He still gose to bed with Jago.

3

The main group of bren group advance to meet up with lord geigi.

Lord geigi and tano and algini are there along with geigi staff. Bren is crying a little. 

They go to geigi's room to explain in full detail the whole shit show they are in. The cause might have been due to economic issues. 

Caljeiri pretty much kind of points out how the atevi acted like children. And the heritage party is back, damn it and yolanda has yeeted herself from radar .

Ilisidi calls shawn presidenta and wants to use the shuttle to go down. To one of the island instead of the mainland.  

Ogun unsurprisingly wants to see bren in his office. 

Shawn talks to him and warns him they are going to be landing in a dangerous area of the world.

ogun is warning bren about all the shit they they are gonna need to know and bren gets a chance to talk to shawn.

shawn gets him a chance to get everyone to where the island is, bren explains to whole plan. 

bren explains the shit show in the main continent  as what could be as a double faced mean girl who managed to get the hand in the popular clique except with adults , death and spies. at least that is how I could describe it. 

they have to bring caljeiri because they have to keep the atevi from thinking he is a puppet prince for the humens or lord geigi.

jase tells bren good luck while bren promises to bring up tea , fruit candies and canisters of anything nice after they hug.

bindana , narani , tano , algini , banichi and jago want to go with him. jago would even leave him on the human island and file intent on his behalf with his seal ring on his finger.

bren points out that filing intent might not get rid of murini 

he has tea with narani and bindanda to discuss maybe for them to be in the ship 

tano is so damn cheerful in comparison to algini while they are leaving for the shuttle.

bren feels sym[thetic for how caljeiri is probably miserable about all this.

4

when they get home on the planet caljeiri is trying to get some flowers that were arranged to mean life and welcome but the flower flew out.

caljeiri is explaining the kyo they saw in outer space to the stewards.

bren the translater is back baby! and oh boy dose he feel like he failed tabini.

jago note he has not eaten at all. bren is trying to keep self blame from getting to him. 

jago wonders if he is sick and bren gets embarrassed at showing emotions.  he tries to tell him is just the flight.

ilisidi goes into a explanation of the family situation that may have brought upon them. one is his cousin who was kind enough to bring him sweets when he got in trouble with his uncle.

caljeiri get a bit mouthy with ilisidi and mentions his human friends then Atigeini. Gives bren a near heart attack.

Caljeiri stop being such a smart ass towords ilisidi. 

It's kind of nice that ilisidi is still supportive of her grandson tabini

5

There ship lands at where they need to get to to make it back home, brens anxiety in planes is not fun for him to have

He remembers all the names of the humans from the island.

Bren has to explain to the poeple to that ilisidi and everyone is pretty stressed yet are very peaceful.  

Colonel brown is understanding of the shit show they are in. Also Shawn wants to see them personally.

Bren tells them the good news and that maybe he could speak to yolanda .

They meet with Shawn who asks ilisidi about the murini situation. Ilisidi refuses to acknowledge their existence . Shawn gives then some fancy new up to date assess for his computer.

After getting to where they can rest ilisidi wonders if they can get to the mainland as fast as they can.

They get a plan for how to smuggle everyone to the mainland. Ilisidi sees Mount Adam Thomas , that wich used to be called noburanjiru or grandmother of snow.

After sitting down for a bit he Finnaly meets back with yolanda.

Yolanda tries to explain what the hell happened,  turned out they were warned of what was going to happen. She even made a report about what happened while he was away. 

Yolanda thinks what caused murini was ambition and was probably planned in a few months. She was yeeted by his staff to get her the hell out of there.

The heritage party is back and that grudge Gaylord Hanks has for his daughter has been festering.

He calls his brother who reveals that he is trying to meet with him bur the gaurds would not let him. 

God damn it toby , why you got yo give me fuzziness at the wholesome brotherly affection.

Toby revels that he and Jill did nor get back together. She kept the kids and the house while he got the boat. Surprisingly he is happy about the separation. 

He gets an idea to use his brother's boat to get to the main land. Too bad toby wants to come along to help. The bad news is that barb is now with Toby,  shit.

They get ready with the ship and it looks like it is a rather new boat. 

6

The boat , brighter days 

Jago please do not bring up barb in from of them please?.

He tells her that his mother is dead also to keep jago from have a grudge on barb by pointing out she was there for his mother and Toby through man'chi . 

Bren saying that the atevi relationship plan from jago may have helped with his relationship issues a lot better.

He gives him the letters he made in the last book and from the beginning to his brother before they go to shore.

Bren hopes barb did change from those books ago , just hopes she isn't as possessive as before . He also is pretty mature.

Caljeiri gets  in trouble fore nearly dragging up a stingfish that nearly got ilisidi. Gets sent to bed early  as punishment 

He explains to toby what caljeiri might replace his dad. Ilisidi might have learned a bit of English. 

Oh god damn it barb . You are literally proving to bren why he likes the atevi relationship arrangement. She admits that she couldn't be living with him and they both want to aspire to be friends instead of lovers. 

He talks her that if she treats his brother like shit he is gonna be horrible.

They get to the location they are hopeing to get to. Has redfish . Bren tries to hid the fish part due to his brother fishing with out a license.  Ilisidi gives his brother one for all the trouble. 

Oh shit tano sees light in the distance,  meaning some one may have seen them , especially an atevi

He bids his brother fair well and to be careful.  He with caljeiri and barb I'm a raft make it safely to shore. Barb and toby gtfo

7

It's dark as hell with everyone on the shore in maybe dur.

Oh my gosh are they gonna be going visiting the boy from dur?

Jago and banichi " borrow" a fish truck . Everyone gets in. 

While on the drive ilisidi tells caljeiri that he is in debit to the village of desari   geigi saved a man named desari and his daughter ar sea and got the village to change the name to remind them.

Bren is worried for caljeiri. 

Holy hell they abducted and drugged a guy to get info on the shit show. A girl named ruso kind of helps them.

Bren realizes that all of the associates of gaigi and tabini are in danger.

Bren takes a little nap by tano and algini.  Before being woken by tano.

They get onto the box car with the help of ruso

They get a little bit of food in the boxcar. 

They Finnaly stop at there destination and gtfo of the boxcar silently. 

They get onto a bus and algini drives with them away. 

Car chase scene to escape the police. 

Jago reveils that banichi took a hike to check if the messaging system used by the hunting lodge director and his assistant uses.

Bren has a near heart attack at seeing another guy. Jago tells him it's an ally.

The fellows name keimi and has 16 mecheiti.  Ilisidi gets a little pissed at the insult of assuming she can not ride.

They get some news that tabini and damiri had gotten out of mogari and to somewhere in the east.

He gets on one of the beasts and heads of with everyone.

8

The sounds of whistles are heard on the first of this chapter.

Bren gets a bit worried for caljeiri when he is approached by some taibeni youngsters his eyes. 

Ilisidi warns keimi that they have a human and might not like the heavy alkaloids in his food or drink. Bren is grateful. 

Turns out the youngsters knew of caljeiri when he was a toddler 

Keimi tells that tabini did not what to leave to the space station to leave everyone else to die. 

Bren is able to rest. 

They are gonna try doing something stupidly dangerous, try to get to tatiseigi country estate to try to get to jagos and banichi guild. 

They get through the forst and reach a train rail and village.

They are gonna be separated from the poeple who helped them.

Aww the youngsters get permission to go with caljeiri.  Yaaay . Also bren noticed  something odd with the youngsters that gives bren kind of a similarly to falling in love exept it has two poeple and it's not sextual at all.

The girls name is antar and the boy is jegari . They are kind of 15 and soon to be 16.

Bren is worried about ilisidi trying to back stab him.

Ilisidi sees something off with his face and asks him about it.

Ilisidi tells him that purity defines him  might be a way to say that he is innocent.  He is flushed a bit by that quote of hers.

Bren is still worried about her and tatseigi turned on them.

They arrive at the the gates of the estate.  Seems good and tatiseigi is coming out with a car.

9

The car is in clear view and caljeiri is told to straighten up his collar .

Tatiseigi greets them at the cars , gets a bit startled by caljeiri and still salty as ever for the paidhi for maybe causing to him the shit show.

Has not heard of damiri at all. Bren dose not blame him for his rage as they go inside the estate. 

Realizes that h is really tired from all the shit he had to go through to get here.

Tatiseigi is a little distrustful of the two kids who went with caljeiri.  Ilisidi tells him the kids are under her protection. 

Ilisidi as also asked for a bath.

When tatiseigi tries to make bren bath with out any respect his staff and bren stand up to tatiseigi bullshit towords him.

So he was not only covered in filth but he is also bruised and scratched up a bit.

After he rests up and gets some food he decides to sleep in the bed with banichi guarding him as he rests with him.

When he wakes up , while he gets dressed he tells tano that he is okay with them just calling them bren in private.

Jago tells bren that tatiseigi believes that tabini is alive.  Caljeiri was with the youngsters and nawari so he wasn’t there.

Bren is wondering could be the treater that might have fucked over tabini.

Oh shit bren just waked into a "ilisidi might verbally fuck shit up to the person she is talking to" moment

Caljeiri be fucking careful. He apologizes for the patio incident. 

Caljeiri pissed off the old man but isn't gonna get anyone assassinated 

10

He wakes up to his gaurds with a plan to use the situation of ilisidi and tatiseigi to try to get to thr guild.

Bren has to write a letter to guild to maybe let them in.

Bren thinks about everything and finds out the Atigeini staff are being suspicious . 

Bren realizes where tabini could have gone , with the astronomer at the University where Emeritus grigiji was.

Bren wishes he could freely speak of where tabini could be. He also wishes jase was there with him.

He uses his computer to silently tell what he thinks he knows about tabini and what is happening. 

He writes a letter to ilisidi begging her for her help. 

Welp that plan shifted the bed. He tells tano to destroy the letter.

11

Bren is dreading the tea he has to have with ilisidi. 

Oh boy is he getting a bit of a heated like argument with him. Ilisidi to the rescue. It's kind of funny how tatiseigi called her "abominatiable women"

Oh boy is there a little bit of a fight starting to happen and caljeiri really wants tatiseigi to not shout at his grandmother. 

Tatiseigi really hates the taibeni , poor youngsters 

Tatiseigi agrees and makes caljeiri new friend antaro , who wanted the honor of getting that letter through enemy territory. 

Bren is pissed that these kids have to go through all this shit. Luckily even the Atigeini staff even they thought sending a kid out there alone was a shitty idea.

Oh shit his hatred of gun fire because some one like him had not done there job quote is here.

While they were talking about the shit show they heard something and go out to check.

God damn it caljeiri where the hell are you?!? Oh fuck is caljeiri and jegari gonna try to appeal to the taiben because bren brought it up?

Great ilisidi and cenedi are there and worried as ever. Cenedi may not like him alot but it's kind of sweet he is realy distressed for him.

Almost everyone says fuck it were are going after the young idiots.

Bren thinks caljeiri is way to smart for his age.

They meet up with antaro who is now with them.

12

They are now currently still trying to find the little shits.

Oh great a gun shot. There is also a youngsters voice as well. Banichi tells him to be careful and stay low.

Jago warns bren to get the fuck anywhere else.

Did caljeiri just shot a guy shooting them.

Banich tells caljeiri that bren us here and pretty disappointed in his actions. 

Brens is a little worried about caljeiri arrogance. 

Bren is praised for talking to caljeiri like an adult and listened to him

Antar greets her father , desio

Aw it implies that bren when he rests for an hour some of the atevi sleep around him and make him feel safe.

They make there way to the location they need to be. Also getting caljeiri to his taibeni relatives and to hopefully his father.

13

Bren is trying to sleep while going back to the mansion.  

Good news the houses gates are safe , bad news there are gaurds that maybe trying to take over the house.

Banich stands up for bren and says he is capable despite his size. Bren adores being called capable then lord of the heavens. 

They go for a charge to try to gain back control of the house.

He gets a bit shocked by electric wire.

After a bit of chaotic fighting they get reinforcements to save there assess.

Caljeiri is back and tabini is with him. The picture of bren calling tabini "aiji-ma" and hugging him is so cute.

Ilisidi greeting tabini in that way and telling him about where his son could be is so funny.

They are having tea with tabini , tatiseigi and ilisidi about all this shit.

Bren notices how somber and thinner tabini looked. Turns out he were hiding out in the hills and wearing a red scarf around his neck and assassin outfit.

Damiri and tabini meet their child again. Caljeiri wants to introduce his bodyguard.

#foreigner series #c. j. cherryh #fansideblogto #foreigner series spoilers

[arch-whatscanon]

@hatchetnews : [ CLEAN ]:     the sender gently and carefully begins to bathe the blood/soot/ash/dirt from the receiver’s skin during a moment of calm.

in less than three days, hatchetfield had been completely upended and shut off from the rest of the world. she had heard a rumor about the homeless guy going fucking rapid downtown on barry swift, who a couple of civilians had been able to get to safety while the hatchetfield police department had put the crazed lunatic down. no one had put much thought to it when it was over, not until the next day when barry was stumbling in for his daily coffee. literally stumbling. and emma had been there at the counter, already scribbling his complicated order onto a cup even though she expected the man to deliver it as always.

i got you - grande caramel frappe but in a venti cup with ... ten pumps of hazelnut, three? three shots of espresso. no caramel drizzle. and whip on top?

there was a low groaning noise in response as barry kept his head low. it caused emma's brow to furrow.

hey... you doing okay?

before she could fully get the last word out, barry had suddenly come to life, the whites of his eyes yellowed with thick, pulsating streaks of red. his skin was so translucent that she could make out various veins and arteries. he snarled like a wild animal and pounced across the counter, and she stumbled back in response. thankfully, carson, nora, and a few others were quick to come help peel the rabid man off of emma while zoey stood there filming it all.

this is going to go viral! what the fuck?!

it was not long after that mayor lauter instated a complete lockdown due to multiple incidences across the island. all businesses were shut down and everyone was sent to the streets to try to make it home while those who were already home at the time of lockdown were trying to evacuate. the island was gridlocked, and clivesdale had shut down the bridge to keep whatever was happening in hatchetfield from crossing the water to the mainland. the emergency alert on emma's car radio caused her stomach to sink. this was bad, this was really bad.

she sat in traffic for over an hour, trying again and again to call ted. calls had stopped coming through. they had truly shut hatchetfield off from the rest of the world. she heard some ruckus a few cars ahead of her and looked up, squinting to find that a pack of turned creatures were trying to break into the car in front of her. her stomach sunk. she was going to die if she stayed out here. so, she got out of her car and ducked beside it, sneaking her way down the highway before she made a mad dash for the witchwood forest and hers and ted's farmhouse.

when she got home, ted and ziggs were thankfully already accounted for and waiting for her. her head was throbbing and swimming from hitting it on the tile floor back at work hours ago, and the gauze carson had wrapped around her arm was staining red from the wound reopening. she had gotten it when she had fallen back and hit one of the shelves - not from a bite, thank god. but she was sweaty and the dust from the long gravel driveway was caking to her skin. her feet were on fire in black flats that weren't supportive enough for a cross-town run. but she had ted and ziggs and that was worth it.

they helped her inside, and ted was quick to fuss over her. she watched him clean and redress the bandage on her forearm while she relayed the story of what happened with barry swift. then, he was peeling off her flats, and she winced at the blisters that were suddenly exposed to the fresh air. painful, angry red blisters along both achilles heels, the tops of her feet, and some of her toes.

" e - easy, " she pleaded, her tired expression pinched for a second before she took a deep breath and started to relax. " we . . . we have to get off this island, t. and i would never resort to this until it was a desperate measure . . . but do you think linda monroe is still here and can get all of us on a boat? "

#𝖆𝖇𝖔𝖚𝖙 : emma perkins #𝖗𝖊𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖕 : emma & ted #𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖘𝖊 : emma / dead island #hatchetnews #answered

[heartfucksmouth]

swear to the high heavens, this shit only happens to me:

I dropped off my 24 hr urine collection yesterday at the lab down tbe street. I just got a call this morning saying I needed to recollect it bc "the cap wasn't on tight and it spilled everywhere on the way to the hospital"

are... are you fucking kidding me? I absolutely tightened that cap - it's not like I wanted pee to spill in my own car on the way to the lab! plus, why tf wouldn't you check that yourself when you are transporting it.

this will be the THIRD 24 hour urine I have to do in the span of 3 weeks. amazing. my mom used to work at the lab for the hospital and she said they more than likely spilled it themselves going to test it, and are shifting the blame to me so they don't look bad.

I would drive it to the hospital myself, but there is bridge work and it's causing crazy traffic so it takes an hour to get to the hospital. which is also super encouraging for if I go into labor early - I'll def need an ambulance hah.

also, I def failed my 3 hr glucose test, but more so bc my sugars spiked to the 200s and then dropped back to my fasting level within the 3 hours. NOT FUN.

#personal #chronic illness #pregnancy is destroying meeee #body fluids tw

[quinnlarrabee]

St. Patrick's Day in NYC: all your angry questions answered

Like every single holiday in the history of time, St Patrick’s Day originated with death, was briefly a day of solemn and civilized remembrance, and then devolved into a day of messy commercial gluttony punctuated by regret. Today, St Patrick’s Day is a shitshow everywhere, but it’s the worst in New York City. While plenty of news outlets document in photos this spectacle of green polyester covered marathon drinking, off-key singing and sloppy bathroom-stall make-outs, there has been no quantitative assessment of St Patrick’s Day in New York City beyond just how many people pass through its bridges, tunnels and tolls on their way to Celtic-themed misery. Adding data makes everything more interesting, and it’s time New Yorkers get the answers to the semi-rhetorical questions they mutter under their breath when they walk past all manner of unspeakable spectacles every year on March 17th. 

Why is St Patrick’s Day so ghastly in NYC?

In tertiary cities like Boston and Chicago, everyone participates in St Patrick’s Day because there’s nothing else to do, so no one realizes how inherently gross it is. In NYC, there’s an abundance of bad life decisions masquerading as culture that people can make every single day of the year, and wearing an unflattering shade of green and abusing cheap alcohol pales in comparison to most of them, so real New Yorkers opt-out of St Patrick’s Day.

The only actual New Yorkers who participate in St. Patrick’s Day are the elected officials, who must pander to the 5.3% of New York City’s population of Irish descent (who do not leave their homes on March 17th and totally disassociate from their heritage) and police officers, who are there to make sure inebriates don’t step into traffic or steal street signs that are similar to their names or the names of their mothers. The rest of NYC avoids St Patrick’s day like a sweaty coughing person on the subway, fleeing their city home for their country house or - if they live in Park Slope - just staying home and re-reading old issues of The Atlantic.

None of the over three million people who participate by choice in St Patrick’s Day celebrations are from New York City: most train in from the state of New Jersey, drive in from Long Island, Uber in from Connecticut or hitchhike in from fringe states like Delaware and Maryland, which don’t provide any kind of cultural experiences to their residents.

New Yorkers execrate (that means really, really hate) any kind of parade (except maybe Gay Pride, but only when The Gays aren’t super angry about something) or public spectacle that causes street closures, prompts police to line streets with those cheap steel crowd control barricades (that cause you to walk 40 blocks out of your way to go around the corner to your local bodega, which might still get you arrested), or causes even the slightest increase in foot traffic in their neighborhood, but they particularly hate when a lot of people who are shabbily dressed, walk slowly / aimlessly and talk loudly flood into their city from undesirable locations and congregate in any place where they might go once every three years. 

This literally defines St Patrick’s Day. 

Aside from the fundamental rhetorical question, “what the actual fuck?”, New Yorkers have a lot of persistent questions each year that never get answered, because everyone is too hungover the week after to do the research. I don’t drink (I just do drugs), so I’ve answered all of your angry, permeating questions.

“Where do all these fucking people come from?”

“What the fuck are they wearing?”

“What got them so fucked up?”

 “Who the fuck after junior high school would drink so much that they actually puke?” 

“What the fuck are they arguing about so loudly in front of literally anyone who walks by?” 

“What the fuck are they eating with their eyes shut on the corner of 33rd and 8th Avenue?”

“Where the fuck will I step in some B&T idiot’s puke?”

“What are the fucking repercussions of this lurid green dumpster fire?”

“How fucking much is this shitshow costing me in tax dollars?”

There are a lot of bad things about St. Patrick’s Day for New Yorkers. It’s crowded. It’s logistically inconvenient. Unattractive people flood into NYC and bring down its average per capita attractiveness ranking from 7.75 (7 in Brooklyn, 8.5 in Manhattan) to just under 7. But it gives New Yorkers the thing that they love the most in the world: the ability to look at someone else and think, “I haven’t fucked my life up quite as spectacularly as they have.”

Here are some photos to make you feel better about yourself:

#nyc #dark humor #satire #comedy #culture

[hotdamnhunnam]

Ray ✈️ 💰 📚

Thanks for your request for my Emoji Fic Fest! 💗

..................................................

Flying Fuck

Pairing: Raymond Smith x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, rough punishing quickie in an airplane bathroom Word Count: ~1.3k Emoji Prompt: ✈️💰📚 (key words are in bold)

For what feels like the thousandth time during this car ride, seated in the passenger side, your painfully OCD boyfriend adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose as he anxiously fidgets. “We could just slow down a little bit.”

Rather than letting up the gas you fucking hit it. “Oh and miss our flight? End up stranded at Heathrow all damn night? Don’t be an idiot.”

“We’ll book another if we miss it. Love, you’re way over the speed limit.”

You really couldn’t give less of a shit. “And what of it? You think I can’t afford a speeding ticket?”

Ray winces as you whiz right past the traffic light ahead, moments before it flashes red. He’s let you drive his precious car for once and this is how he gets fucking rewarded. “Just because you can afford it, doesn’t mean you should speed toward it. Had I known you’d be so reckless I’d have insisted on driving us instead.”

“Well I’d be driving at a reasonable rate, if we weren’t running so damn late. If you’d not spent ten hours packing all our luggage full of useless books that you’ve already read.”

Glancing up from the volume he’s currently reading, Raymond frowns in disapproval of your insult and your speeding. “Look, I’ve told you that these valuable books contain—”

“You’re just a nerd Raymond, I know that and you don’t have to explain. A softcore gangster with a strange college professor complex going on or something.” Hit the brakes as you approach a railroad crossing. Tap your fingers on the steering wheel while scowling in impatience at the slowly passing train.

Ray seems more than a little miffed at the ‘softcore’ shit so he suddenly goes harder on your ass. “Now once this train has passed, you need to calm your fucking tits and for the love of God just stop driving so fast. I’m serious Y/N. I won’t say it again.”

“Don’t be a drag.” You roll your eyes at him as the train crawls at a toad’s pace across the tracks and fucking lags. “If I cause damage to your precious car I’m sure you can afford all the repairs required, or even a replacement if your little heart desires, Mr. Moneybags.”

“You think I’d give a damn about the car if you go off and get yourself killed crashing straight into a truck? You think I’d give a flying fuck?”

“I’m in the driver’s seat so calm your fucking tits Ray,” you imperiously say.

To let off all the steam from this quarrel—and more importantly to punish you for being such a bad girl—Raymond plans to give you one hell of a hardcore flying fuck later today.

***************

Of course you make your flight on time all thanks to your fast driving skills. Of course Ray doesn’t give you credit where it’s due and you don’t think he ever will. Just stony silence as he struts aboard and settles his fine ass into his first class seat with absolutely zero gratitude. So fucking rude.

Once the plane reaches cruising altitude… the fasten seatbelt sign flicks off and that’s his cue to punish you for your insufferable attitude.

With one quick gesture of his finger and that nasty little glimmer in his eyes of blue, you know exactly what your man wants you to do. There’s an unspoken code between you two. Especially when it comes to the critical business of getting screwed.

Needless to say you’d fucking love for Ray to pound you in the bathroom but you shrug it off like you’re not in the mood. Stay seated on your stubborn ass. “I’ll pass. I think I’d rather sit and wait till we get served some shitty plane food.”

But then… his dominant hand reaches in your lap all of a sudden. And unbuckles your belt for you since you won’t do it yourself. You could’ve tried a little harder to prevent that but you didn’t ‘cause deep down you’re just a desperate little bitch for him and really can’t be helped.

Ten seconds later you’re there waiting in the bathroom stall—another thirty seconds later Ray raps thrice against the door which you then open so that he can slam you up against the wall—so hard and fast your breath escapes you in a slutty little yelp.

He locks the door behind him quickly. Repositions you with your face pressed into the mirror up above the sink. The fucking hasn’t started yet already you feel so utterly filthy. Feel the thick throb of his cock grazing the bare cheeks of your ass under your short skirt before you can even blink.

Ray is the master of efficiency. The king of hardcore quickies. Though he loves to take his time with you when circumstance allows… he also knows exactly how to meet a limit: how to use his words and deeds to get you instantly aroused. Hit climax in less than a minute.

You forgot this was a punishment however—that means you don’t get the privilege to reach that peak of pleasure.

Ray makes sure that you remember.

“Next time you decide to be a little brat like that and fucking disobey…” he grunts—palm striking down upon your ass with a sharp smack—his other hand pulling your hair back—as he snarls into your ear all dark and dominant, slamming his cock into the tight slick of your cunt, “…you can be sure there will be fucking hell to pay.”

You’re such a whore for every savage thing he does and every word he has to say.

“Just like today,” he goes on, knowing you can take it, stripping your dignity naked, though the mirror shows you’ve still got all your clothes on. “Since you misbehaved that way… this naughty little cunt of yours won’t get to cum undone, till I’ve given permission.”

God, it’s torture, when your man sets such conditions. Does it often, knowing that’s what you get off on. Taking orders. Yielding to him in submission. It’s your God-given position.

“Are you going to be a good little bitch and fucking listen?”

He reaches his right hand around and hooks two of his fingers firmly in your jaw—so you can suck them as you nod and moan a breathless yes, your whole body a desperate trembling mess—the image in the mirror is the filthiest picture you ever saw.

There’s just something about such rough punishing sex here in the bathroom of a plane… this flying fuck is straight up driving you insane.

Typically Ray builds to your orgasm in seamless sync with his. But that’s not what this fucking is. Today he drops his load inside you hot and quick, and then pulls out his massive dick, pushing you down onto your knees to clean him off with one long lick.

Just one—though you want so much more—he’s done—he doesn’t let you touch yourself and cum where you kneel on the bathroom floor. That isn’t what today is for.

Maybe he’ll fuck you in the airport when you reach your destination but not one moment before. Of that you’re sure.

Till then you’ll have to ride the flight out with a flood of his thick creamy cum dumped in this dripping cunt of yours. Of fucking course. He knows you have needs and desires that are setting you on fire and he’s going to deliberately ignore.

When you were pushing all his buttons earlier, you should’ve known this punishment would be in store…

Maybe you did. Because you’re that much of a glutton for this shit. With Raymond Smith you’ll always be eager to get pounded and punished like a naughty little whore.

..................................................

Emoji Fic Masterlist

Emoji Fic Tag List – below; if you’d like to be added or removed, just let me know!

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#charlie hunnam #raymond smith #ray smith #the gentlemen #charlie hunnam smut #raymond smith smut #the gentlemen smut #charlie hunnam imagine #raymond smith imagine #the gentlemen imagine #charlie hunnam fanfiction #raymond smith fanfiction #the gentlemen fanfiction #raymond smith x reader #raymond smith x you #ray smith x reader #ray smith x you #charlie hunnam x reader #charlie hunnam x you #emoji fics

[drakenology]

𝐁𝐀𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓  ♡  𝐃𝐀𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐈 𝐒𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐀

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : smut!, daddy kink, violence & mentions of blood, established relationship, dumbification, face slapping (politely), dirty talk, degradation, a pinch of knife play (he just cuts your panties open), exhibitionism, breeding kink, cum, fingering, swearing and size kink if you get a magnifying glass. 

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: Hey sexy bitches. This one’s for my Vice City event. I scrapped so many ideas to get here which is why I extended the due date for it.. Anyways! Enjoy, sluts. Daichi supremacy. 

He sat at the bar; tall, dark and handsome. He had this roughness to him, his hands riddled with scars and his face rocking one just above his eyebrow. He was one of your most handsome regulars. He always came in around 12 am on Friday, all blooded up and battered from god knows what. Tonight was no different. You sigh, taking in his strong arm that was now covered in bandage wrapping. You strut over to him, pulling your top up a bit to push up your breasts. 

“What can I get ya, handsome?” You ask charmingly. He looks up from his empty glass, his deep brown eyes soaking in your form. 

“Whiskey, neat.” He replied, smoky tone of voice vibrating against your ears as you bit your lip. 

“Comin’ right up” as you turn and walk away, adjusting your shorts after bending down to get his drink ready. His eyes trailed to your hips where your g-string sat snugly on those hips he often watched sway as you walked by to serve your patrons. Were you always this sexy? He never stopped looking at you as you poured him a drink, leaning over the bar to ask him something. 

“I swear every time you come in here you show up with a new injury. This is a bar, not a hospital. What the hell were you doin’?” You question, reaching a soft hand up to his brow as if to try and heal it with your touch. He didn’t even flinch either, almost leaning into your hand like a touch-starved puppy. You grab some napkins and wipe some blood from his leaking nose, tsk-ing at him as he sighed. He knew you’d give him shit.

“Got into this nasty scrap with some gang. One of ‘em tried robbing me.. I showed him why he shouldn’t have. His boys came after me and they caught me off guard. One of ‘em had a knife.” He admits. You flinch, looking at him in awe. What’s this guy into? 

“Be careful, Lui Kang.” You tease, sliding a glass of ice over to him from one end of the bar while you took some orders. 

Not even a few moments later, someone came up to you at the bar. This sleazy looking man with his hair gelled back so thickly it didn’t move as he craned his head to look you up and down. 

“Hey, sweetface. Get me a drink, will ya?” His voice like a natural irritant. You turn to him and take his order, your protective regular watching him closely as he sipped his drink. He hardly knew you; just some girl who worked at the sleazy bar he always finds himself licking his wounds in after a scrap. Still, you were always so nice to him; greeting him with a pretty smile, a cold drink and a conversation. He was just so used to violence, fighting for everything he has. He was grateful to have just one ray of sunshine. Vice City, nor his life had ever granted him that luxury. 

As you serve the man his drink, he takes a sip and makes this repugnant face. 

“Women. Not even good for making a man a fuckin’ decent drink.” He snaps, tossing the drink towards your direction; the glass almost hitting you. You scream as the glass shatters against the wall, your regular standing from his stool to give him a piece of his mind. 

“Fuck’s your problem, tough guy?” He spits at him, grunting when a fist suddenly meets the bridge of his nose. The thud causes you to jump, staring at the scene with wide eyes as your heart slammed against your chest. Of course you were no stranger to bar fights, but this? How could one man make violence look so tempting. You gasp as you watch him pick that grease ball up by his shirt and practically toss him out the doors of the pub. 

“Fuck off home, before I decide to kill you.” 

 He takes his seat back at the bar to find you cleaning up the mess, noticing your startled and clumsy movements from shock. 

“You okay?” He asked, concerned. You nod. As tough as you try to front to be, you were scared shitless. Though this wouldn’t be the first nor last asshole to grace your bar. 

“I can handle myself, ya know?”, putting up a front that you didn’t need his help. You were grateful. But he doesn’t have to know that.

“Sure.” He shrugged. “Remind me not to interfere, miss independent.” You stare into his deep chocolate brown eyes and lean closer to him. 

“What, am I supposed to thank you now?” You tease, taking a cherry and sticking it in your mouth. 

“It’d be nice.” He smirks, raising an eyebrow at you. You giggle, leaning over to give him an innocent kiss on the cheek as a token of gratitude. 

“Thanks.” 

After that fateful day, you and Daichi were attached at the hip. He brought you everywhere with him as if his scene was safe and tidy. Most nights consisted of dressing his wounds after watching him roughhouse at his fight club. You never minded caring for him since you know he’d do the same for you in a heartbeat. 

The life he lived, the way he made his money just to get by was terrifying and... exciting. You always came with him for his matches whenever someone had bet big money on him or if some assholes wanna settle a score. You always stood in the loud crowd as they watched, beer bottles and cigarettes littering the concrete ground. Daichi told you to always wear his name chain so that the guys knew who you belonged to, those dudes can get real handsy and Daichi would hate to have to hurt a friend. God, you were such a distraction. Daichi stared at you almost too long; dodging a swing of a knife as he took his opponent down with his bare hands. The crowd smashed more glass against any nearby surface to celebrate, the other half of the crowd booing and hissing. 

After he was declared the winner, he got his cut of the bet in cold hard cash; about a nice $200,000. Boy was he frisky after that. His big hands stayed planted right on your ass as he walked you both out and onto the streets to walk home. Your walks were always so peaceful after the boisterous and rowdy night. But tonight, Daichi wanted to claim the second part of his prize. He swiftly scooped you up in his arms, sitting you atop a car parked on the side of the steady street. He pulled his knife out from his back pocket, spreading your legs with his palm. 

“Better not make a fucking sound, baby. ‘Else everyone’s gonna hear how much of a whore you are for your daddy.” He grunts, taking the blade to cut your panties apart by the crotch from under your skirt. Your pussy was now on full display for him and quite possibly the ongoing traffic driving by. You shudder as the cold breeze hits your bare skin, looking at him with doe eyes - only making him want you more. 

“What? Don’t act like you don’t want it like this, babe.” his voice thick with lust as his thick finger reach up to pinch your nipples through your thin top. “God, look at these.” as his hands grope and squeeze the softness of your breasts. You’re moaning into the air as his lips kiss your neck feverishly, taking your top and lifting it up over your breasts. 

“You want my dick don’t you, baby?” He whispers into your ear, your thighs starting to tremble just at the low, brassy tone of his voice. You nod, your cunt fluttering as it starts to drip with slick. Your obedience has him feeling firm, the brunt side of his hard cock starting to grind against you through his jeans. You gasp, Daichi’s hands still pinching and teasing your nipples as his hips grind to make you feel good. You start moving your own hips to follow his movements, Daichi groaning as he watched you try and get yourself off. 

“Look at you humpin’ me like a little bitch in heat.” He spat, a whimper leaving your mouth as you start getting desperate. His hands stop your hips in place, his eyes seemingly dilated with a dark appearance. 

“Take it out since you want it so bad.. yeah, put it in for me. Work for it, slut.” He demands, tapping your cheek to keep your eyes focused on his. He slaps the other side of your face as he snapped his hips, this chubby cock seemingly splitting you open as you cry out. He starts off brutally, as if he weren’t railing you out in public in the middle of the night on some stranger’s car. You weren’t making the scene any more discreet with all your pathetic groans, your hands pulling at his shirt to hold onto something. Your mind became cloudy, panting and sobbing like a real whore. Daichi’s just enjoying the sight of you ruined underneath him, slapping you in the face once more to snap you back from your daydream causing you to gasp. The sting faded as his hand went to stroke the blow with his thumb, the rest of his hand lifting your chin.

“Look at me. Don’t cum until I say so, got it? I feel your greedy cunt sucking me up already.” He says, thumb pressing up against your clit just to make it harder for you to contain yourself. You feel your walls squeeze him, whimpering with every vein of this cock sliding in and out of your walls so addictively. Your hands claw at his back, drooling into his shoulder as you start trying to grind your hips to change the pace. He grunts and holds you still as he slides his thick cock in and out of you slower to tease you, smirking when you start to cry. 

“Pl-Please go faster, Da-Daddy, please, I can’t-” You whine, interrupted by a harsh slap to your outer thigh causing you to yelp.

“You can and you will. Daddy’s almost there, c’mon. You don’t want me to punish you out here, do you?” He coos, opening your mouth by squishing your cheeks together, spitting on your tongue and tapping your chin. You shake your head and try your best to take him for a little while longer, your slick oozing all over the hood of the car you were pinned to. As your eyes roll back, you feel Daichi’s cock start to throb intensely, a sign he was close. Relief was soon to come. 

“G’head and cum for daddy, baby. Want you throbbing for me, c’mon, you wanted to cum so bad.” Daichi urged, swiftly flicking your clit to help you. You cum in a flash, white lights shining behind your eyes as you scream his name. Seconds later he fills you, pumping his hot seed into your pussy before pulling out to watch it spill out onto the cold metal of the car. 

“Sloppy little whore.” He spits, taking his fingers to scoop it up and shove it inside you, pumping his fingers to secure it inside. You pant, your thighs trembling as Daichi hoists you up on his back to carry you the rest of the way home. 

Your eyes close, humming as you lean into his shoulder. A silent “I love you”. The walk was silent and safe, dozing off on Daichi’s shoulder as he trudged through the mean streets of the neighborhood you both lived in. 

#haikyuu!! smut #daichi sawamura #daichi smut #haikyuu hinata #haikyuu smut #.club specials 💗💋 #.vice city 🎲

[poisoned-peppermint]

Part 3 of incorrect quotes because people liked the other ones

~~~~~~~~~

Skeppy: I think I just figured something out. I got to go.

Bad: Aren't you forgetting something?

Skeppy: Uuh...*hesitantly kisses Bad's forehead before running out.*

Bad: No, pay your bill! Dang it, who raised you? 

~~~~~~~~

Bad: Well, Skeppy and I finally did it!

The rest of the squad: *gasps, shocked expressions, etc.*

Bad: That's right... We kissed!

~~~~~~~~

Skeppy: I love you.

Bad, not paying attention: What was that?

Skeppy: I said I’m selling you to the zOo-

~~~~~~~~

Skeppy: You’re not jealous, are you?

Bad: No!

Skeppy: Good, ‘cause I consider my fake relationship with you a lot more meaningful. 

~~~~~~~~

*Bad and Skeppy are in Paris.*

Bad: I'm...moved. I...I don't know what it is I'm feeling right now. I feel...destiny?

Skeppy: But...

Bad: I don't know what it is. I feel like... I just never thought I'd see it with my own two eyes. And here it is. It's just there. It's right in front of me, and...

Skeppy: This is what you wanted to see? The bridge from Inception?

Bad: Yeah.

Skeppy: But the Eiffel Tower is behind us, babe.

Bad: Yeah, but this is the bridge FROM INCEPTION.

Skeppy: Okay, alright

~~~~~~~~

Bad: Sorry I’m late, I was doing things.

Skeppy: Hi, I’m ‘things’

~~~~~~~~

Skeppy: Are you sure Bad's even gay? They barely even looked at me.

~~~~~~~

Bad: Ugh, crushes are so dumb.

Skeppy: I know. Whenever I’m near the person I like I just start acting stupid.

Bad: But you’re always acting stupid?

Skeppy: ...

Skeppy: Yeah, don’t think about that too hard.

~~~~~~~~

Bad: Can I have 2 straws with that milkshake?

Skeppy: Aww-

Bad: With 2 straws, I can drink it double as fast!

~~~~~~~

Bad: I’m going to defeat you with the power of friendship! ... And this knife I found

~~~~~~~

Bad: So... what would you do if you were in bed with me?

Skeppy: Depends. Is your bed comfortable?

Bad: Yes.

Skeppy: I'd sleep.

~~~~~~~~

Bad, to Skeppy: We had a date!

Bad: *aggressively points to Hello Kitty Coloring Book*

~~~~~~~~

Bad, at the slightest provocation: I came into this earth screaming and covered in someone else's blood and and I'm not afraid to leave the same way. 

~~~~~~~~

Skeppy: That was so hot, Bad.

Bad: I literally called the person who just flirted with you a degenerate dog and told them I hope they get dragged through the streets.

Skeppy: I'm so in love with you

~~~~~~~~

Dream: Where's Sapnap, Skeppy, and Bad?

George: They're playing hide and seek.

Dream: Where?

George: I don't think you get how this game works.

~~~~~~~

Skeppy: Good morning.

Bad: Good morning.

Sapnap: Good morning.

George: You all sound like robots, try spicing it up a bit.

Dream: MORNING MOTHERFUCKERS! 

~~~~~~~

Sapnap: You really put aside everything and came all this way for me? How did you even get here so fast?

George: Several traffic violations.

Dream: Three counts of resisting arrest.

Bad: Roughly thirteen cans of energy drinks.

Quackity: Also, that’s not our car.

~~~~~~~

Sapnap: Hi, could I ask how exactly does one accidentally set a lemon on fire??

Quackity: Microwave for 40 minutes. 😔

Bad: Why were you microwaving a lemon???

Quackity: I read boiling lemons helps cover up bad smells (I wanted to cover up the scent of burnt oranges) but I didn't own any pots.

Karl: Did you burn an orange too? How???

Quackity: Microwave for 40 minutes. 😔

~~~~~~

Tommy: Is stabbing someone immoral? Techno: Not if they consent to it. Wilbur: Depends who you’re stabbing. Phil: YES?!?

~~~~~~~

Tommy: *Screams*

Wilbur: *Screams louder to establish dominance*

Phil: Should we do something?

Techno: No, I want to see who wins.

~~~~~~~

Phil: Wake me up…

Techno: Before you go go!

Wilbur: When September ends…

Tommy: WAKE ME UP INSIDE-

~~~~~~~

Tommy: Techno isn’t answering their phone

Phil: I’ll call

Tommy: Wilbur and I have both tried six times each, what makes you thi-

Techno: Hello?

~~~~~~~

Cop: You’re receiving a ticket for having three people on one motorcycle.

Phil: Shit.

Techno: Wait, three?

Cop: Yeah?

Wilbur: OH MY GOD TOMMY FELL OFF!!!

~~~~~~~

Tommy: ARE YOU-

Wilbur: Fucking.

Tommy: KIDDING ME?! YOU-

Wilbur:Fucking.

Tommy: IDIOT!

Techno: …What was that?

Wilbur: Phil banned Tommy from swearing, so I’m helping them out.

~~~~~~~

Wilbur: *tapping fingers on table*

Techno: *taps fingers back furiously*

Tommy: …What’s going on?

Phil: Morse code. They’re talking.

Wilbur: -.-- ..- .-. / - …. . / -.-. ..- - . … -

Techno: *slams hands on table* YOU TAKE THAT BACK! 

~~~~~~~

Tommy: I'm bored.

Techno: Wanna commit first degree murder?

Tommy: Sure!

Phil, hearing them: No- Stop, don't do that! Put that knife down! Put Wilbur down!!

~~~~~~~

Wilbur: Oh god, they texted you ‘hi.’’ punctuation only means one thing, Phil. They're mad at you.

Phil: No, it's Tommy. They're just being grammatically correct!

*meanwhile*

Tommy: And then I used a period so they'd know that I'm mad at them.

Techno: A period doesn't say 'I'm mad', it says 'you're dead to me'.

Tommy: I stand by my choice.

~~~~~~~

Wilbur: Phil, we're hungry!

Techno: Phil! What's for dinner?

Tommy: We're hungry, Phil!

Phil, frying a bottle of ketchup over the stove: *screams* 

~~~~~~~

Wilbur, writing in a letter: "I'm going to kick.. your... ass."

Wilbur: THERE. Now send it.

Tommy:: Dude, your handwriting is terrible, are you sure you want to-

Wilbur: JUST DO IT!

later

Phil: So what does it say?

Techno, reading the letter: They say they're going to "lick my...."

Phil:

Techno:

Phil: Gross- 

~~~~~~~

Quackity: Karl, what do IDK, LY, and TTYL mean?

Karl: I don’t know, love you, talk to you later

Quackity: Ok, I love you too, I’ll just ask Sapnap.

~~~~~~~

Quackity: I love you guys, you're the best thing that's happened to me.

Karl: We're the best thing that's ever happened to you?

Quackity: Yes!

Sapnap: I'm starting to feel a little sorry for you.

~~~~~~~

Quackity: Sapnap and I were crossing the street, and this dude drove by and honked at us

Karl: *Sighing* What did Sapnap do?

Quackity: They chased him to the next red light, then reached into his window and...

Sapnap: Who wants a steering wheel?

~~~~~~~

Quackity: In my defense, I was left unsupervised.

Karl: Wasn't Sapnap with you?

Sapnap: In my defense, I was also left unsupervised. 

~~~~~~~~

Sapnap: Karl you can’t move in with Quackity. Karl: Why not? Sapnap: Well, um, how are you going to feel when they see you without any makeup? Karl: I’m not wearing makeup right now. Sapnap: Holy crap, you’re beautiful.

~~~~~~~

Sapnap: *is wearing silk pants* How does this look?

Quackity: Like its slips on and off really easily.

Sapnap:

Quackity: No, I didn't mean it like that-

Karl: We know what you meant. 

~~~~~~~

Quackity: I didn't drink that much last night.

Karl: You were flirting with Sapnap.

Quackity: So what? They're my Husband.

Karl: You asked if they were single.

Karl: And then you cried when they said they weren't.

~~~~~~~

Karl: Why doesn’t Sapnap find me sexy when I bite my lip?

Quackity: What do you look like when you bite your lip?

Karl: *bites lip*

Quackity: ...Have you considered biting your bottom lip instead? 

~~~~~~~

Bad: Are you trying to seduce me?

Skeppy: Why, are you seducible?

~~~~~~~

Bad: I don't need to go to bed. I'm not tired, I'll be fine.

Skeppy: But, darling, I'll be so lonely without you. Come curl up in my arms so I can feel whole again.

Bad: O-oh. Well. Are you trying to seduce me into healthy sleeping patterns??

Skeppy: Is it working? 

~~~~~~~

Skeppy: Relationships should be 50/50. Bad cooks us dinner while I sit on the kitchen counter looking pretty. 

~~~~~~~

Bad: I still have no idea how I’m attracted to you...

Skeppy: Yeah, well, you’re stuck with me, and no take backs, honey.

~~~~~~~

Bad: The first time I saw you, you stole my heart.

Skeppy: But I'm a kleptomaniac, so that doesn't mean anything. 

~~~~~~~

Bad: Valentine’s day is just a consumerist holiday that holds no real value other than drive people insane buying heart shaped chocolates for their significant others and pos-

Skeppy: I wrote you a poem.

Bad, already crying: You did?

~~~~~~~

Skeppy: This date is boring!

Bad: This isn't a date. I said I was going to the store.

Skeppy: Then why did you invite me?

Bad: I didn't, I specifically said "don't come with me" then you said " screw you Bad I'll do whatever I want!

~~~~~~~

Skeppy: When you said 'Magic in Bed', I wasn't expecting this...

Bad: *pulls out card from deck* Now, was this your card?

Skeppy: Holy moly- 

~~~~~~~

Bad: I owe you one.

Skeppy: That’s ok. You can just date me and we’ll call it even. 

~~~~~~~~

If this does as well as the others I’ll make another.

#dream smp #dream smp incorrect quotes #skephalo #karlnapity #sleepy bois inc #dream team #feral boys

[hargrove-mayfields]

Day one of the Horror on Cherry Lane Challenge! I’ll be participating this month as a writer! The prompt for today is Knife!

warnings for mentions of suicidal ideation and attempts, death, child abuse, and blood.

Billy met Steve in the psych ward.

Well, they met officially at Tina’s party, but that wasn’t the real Steve. That was the King Steve. Deeper than that though, even the Steve Harrington everyone else saw even after the breakup and the fall from grace still wasn’t the real thing.

That was fake smiles, overdone nonchalance to cover up the wound from his fallen status. Now he was stripped down to himself, all bloody bandages and tired eyes, the boy he was pretending to be finally broken down to reveal this.

Apparently, Ruthie Harrington found her son with his grandfather's switchblade- all the other objects in the house sharper than a spoon and with less sentimental value had already been tossed -bleeding all over her freshly polished linoleum floors. She dropped him off at the hospital a night ago and nobody’s been by to see him since.

Now, it’s by pure coincidence that Billy’s already in on the same day Steve’s admitted.

He’s been locked up the past three days compared to Steve’s one. These small town hicks are jumpier (ha) than he thought, and don’t think doing the walk and turn test on the edge of the quarry after downing a bottle and a half of fireball is as funny as he does. Whatever. Cid would’ve thought that was badass as hell.

So he was admitted, on suicide watch for a stupid joke that wasn’t really worth it, or even really a joke. Max came to visit once. She punched him in the chest as hard as she could and cursed him out for an hour. She’d never done that before. By the time she left they were both in tears, and maybe Billy realized a thing or too about his carelessness. Realized for the first time that someone cared.

But he’s still in here for another week and a half by law, so. He’s not going to mope about it. And while Steve Harrington showing up is about the last thing he’s expecting, he decides that’s at least something he can work with. Definitely brings a little life to the place.

He waits until Steve’s intense watch period is over to bug him, once they’re out of their cramped little rooms for a couple of hours to “socialize” (see, the more sound of mind keep an eye on the other patients while the nurses take their smoke breaks) Billy goes straight to Steve. Him and Harrington are far from friends, but that’s pretty much irrelevant when the only other choices for company are kids younger than them too scared to approach them and people too deep in their midlife crises to bother with teenage drama.

Throwing himself down in the blue plastic chair across from where Steve settled in, Billy kicks his feet up on the table,, “What’s up Harrington? Didn’t expect to see a familiar face in here.”

But Steve, poor Steve, takes one look at Billy with those haunted brown eyes, and his face just falls completely apart. There are tears on his way too pale cheeks before Billy even has a chance to breathe.

The smile drops off of Billy’s face, “Jesus Harrington, I know m’not looking my best surviving on hospital food and cigarettes without a hairbrush, but that’s a little unwarranted.”

“Shut up. Not everything’s about you, Hargrove.”

“Oh I disagree with that. But I get the point. I’ll let ya be.” Billy hums, scooting his chair back and getting up. He stops when Steve starts to speak, “Y-You outta be careful saying that kinda stuff in here.”

“What?”

“That the world revolves around you. They’ll come up with a diagnosis for that and keep you here forever. Drug you ‘til you forget your own name, let alone your status.” Steve tells him with humor, wiping the tears off his face.

Billy nods in understanding, sits back down with an interested smirk, “This ain’t your first time here, is it?”

“Is it yours?”

“Nah. I’ve done some shit on purpose, some on accident. Once it wasn’t even me. But s’never done anything to help so far.”

Steve puffs out a sigh, “Don’t I know it.. I’ve been in and outta this place since I was like, ten. Clearly nothing’s changed.”

“Why? What’s your dirty little secret, Harrington?”

“I cut myself, dumbass.” He deadpans, looking at Billy with a bluntness in his expression that reads more concerning, more like indifference to what he just said than matter-of-fact.

“No shit. But that ain’t the secret.” Billy probes further, can tell he’s getting under that mask Steve wears, “Why do you do it?”

“Legally, I can't tell you. And I don’t think I would anyways.”

“What about if I tell you all about me first? I got no reservations ‘cept the one that got me a bed here.”

“It’s not a hotel, Hargrove.”

“Eh, might as well be. Feels like the damn hotel California.”

“Is that why?”

“Huh? Oh no, I been pullin’ stunts like this long before we left Cali.”

“Like what?”

“Like downing two full bottles of my mother’s meds after she left. Not at the same time obviously, or I wouldn’t be here. Mostly ‘cause my dad didn’t even wanna take me to the hospital either time.” Billy doesn’t look at Steve while he elaborates. Not because he cares, he’s an open book, if a random old woman at the grocery store asked about his last attempt, he’d tell her.

But. He doesn’t like watching people’s faces. Seeing sympathy and concern there. It makes him feel all stupid and guilty. It’s usually not like that with other kids like him, but Steve’s different. He’s got a big heart. Even if there’s no room for himself.

And Billy hurt Steve before. He doesn’t want to see someone he caused pain caring so much about him. He already cracked when Max came to see him. This could be what splits him open, spills out all the things he’s covered up.

So he keeps going, “And like runnin’ out in front of traffic with my friends. They thought we were just playin’ chicken ‘til I stopped dead in front of a station wagon. Metal rims’d done me in for sure if one ‘a the older boys hadn’t pulled me outta the way. Damn near ripped my shirt in half how fast he grabbed me.”

“I’m guessing your parents are the reason why then?”

“Yessir.” Billy deflects, not good at getting deeper into it, “You wanna tell me yours then?”

“I started cutting because Tommy Hagan told me about it. He thought it was freaky, but when he ran his mouth about how they found the neighbor kid in his room, drained of all his blood from his wrists, I wanted to try it. I’ve tried liquor and drugs and all kinds ‘a shit I shouldn’t, but nothin’ stuck like cutting.” Steve pauses for a long time, his eyes going blank, staring right past Billy, “When my mom found out she.. she.. Forget it.”

“Hey, you seen my skeletons. Can’t I see yours?”

“No. I don’t wanna fucking talk about it anymore.” Steve answers, despite his assuredness, his tone wobbling with some unidentifiable emotion.

Talk about mood swings. Billy doesn’t get how nobody would’ve noticed something was up before Steve started carving into himself. Really, he knows someone would have seen it and just ignored it.

It only gets worse though, the reservedness turning to sadness and frustration. None of the words are coming out, but he can tell Steve’s thinking of the stories, reliving all that got him to the here and now. Billy can also tell there’s nothing he can do no to stop him from doomsdaying.

So when Steve is inevitably in the thralls of a panic attack, he tries to hug him tight, to try to get it to stop maybe, that always worked for him at least, but Steve swats him away. Judging from the way he winces, it’s not easy for him to do either, with those thick ass bandages constricting his wrists, but the tears and the pain on his face are buried behind his resolution.

He’s hiding something from Billy.

In hindsight, talking to a new patient about past attempts probably wasn’t his brightest idea anyways, so he switches the subject while Steve works on coming down from his panic attack. He brings up Max and her little nerds, trying to bridge the healthier connections between him and Steve that they’d both been ignoring since the fight. He mentions basketball too, another something they have in common other than trying to kill themselves.

It doesn’t really work, though Steve does stop shaking as bad, just curling up in his little chair and sniffling, pretending not to listen while Billy rambles on and on. But he doesn’t talk. It’s probably better for him not to anyway. Billy himself has been known to say some dumb shit when he’s in distress.

Ultimately, even once the conversation runs out, he stays with Steve until dark. He can tell from the way his gaze sticks to the floor that Steve recovered from his fit a while ago, but he’s embarrassed by having a breakdown in front of him, as if he isn’t in here for the same reason. It helps that he gets it though, and they sit in a comfortable, albeit very prolonged, silence.

Long after Steve gets xanned up and knocked out though, while Billy is still free to wander until the midnight curfew as a low risk patient, he decides to stick with him in his room. Billy’ll never admit it, but he gets nightmares, and he doesn’t want to face that just yet, so with a new friend as an excuse, he’s up half the night watching Steve sleep.

He remembers what happened earlier, how focused Steve was on keeping him away from him, despite his panic, and decides, with a glance at how deeply Steve is sleeping, his greasy hair all strewn about on stiff pillows, that he’s going to figure out what it was.

He snoops around in his bedside drawers, in the bathroom, in the locker in the corner. It’s there he notices the knitted jacket Steve was wearing before, hanging heavy to one side, like there’s something in its pocket. He touches it and feels the outline of something small, so he pulls it out.

He regrets checking though, because it’s a knife. Judging from the old looking engravings on its handle, and the coppery stains within the grooves, it’s specifically the very same one that got Steve hospitalized.

He shoves it in his own back pocket and keeps looking, with a quick glance at Steve, finding a note tucked where the knife had been. Written in perfect scrawl on bond paper that’s been folded a dozen times and stained with tears,

“Do it right next time, why don’t you? Your mother is too soft on you. I’m not paying for this again.

- J.Harrington.”

Billy doesn’t know what to do but throw the note in the trash. Not really in shock, but definitely more than a little fucked up from reading that, he sits on the end of Steve’s bed. His own dad, who'd more than once been the one putting him in the hospital, had never even said anything like that to him.

He didn’t get to talk to Steve much today, but they’ve got as long as Billy’s stuck in here together to fix that. Longer if he just pulls something in front of a nurse. And he wants to, really really wants to.

Because he knows he just met the real Steve, can recognize another broken boy when he sees one, and he knows too, that he never wants to meet a pretty boy like this again.

And if that’s his declaration to get clean, then so fucking be it.

But. He never promised not to hurt anyone. Ultimately he’d still need that outlet.

He keeps the knife. To make sure his pretty boy doesn’t get hurt again.

#CherryLaneChallenge #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #ej writer #story by ej! #tw self harm #tw attempted suicide #tw blood #happy October! #I’m so excited! #I’m gonna try to do all of this but I’m real busy coming up! #im not sure what vibe I’m goin got in this challenge #but I think it’s mostly haunting? #not scary but like that oh moment y’know