#i’ve cried three? four? times today already?

[anasanthology]

Two’s A Company, Three’s A Crowd, Four… is Just Perfect

WARNINGS: NSFW 18+ MDNI (I don’t care who reads just if your account age is set to under 18 don’t interact please), praise kink, breeding kink, very light choking, lowkey Soft Dom!Ethan Winters, possibly super light degradation but not really, overall pretty tame, fem-specific gendered terms. Not proofread.

Notes: MY FIRST FIC BE NICE!!! Honestly, I can’t tell if this is bad or not 👀 This took me days to finish because I lost energy like half way through 😭 Sorry if it’s a little ooc, I tried to not do that but it might be 🫣 ANYWAYS, hope you like it 😁 if you have any comments JUST SAY THEM they will be appreciated 💕 hope you like, lovelies ☺️

3.6k words | Ethan Winters x AFAB!Reader

You stand on the porch of a small townhouse. Feeling the cool air blow around you, you try to make yourself smaller in your coat. It was freezing outside, but gas was expensive so you walked. The sweet burn of prolonged cold nipped at your fingertips and exposed ankles. The distant cries of a young child getting louder, accompanied by heavy fevered footsteps. The door swings open and a man pokes his head out giving you a weak tired smile.

“Are you the babysitter?”

“Yes.”

That was 9 months ago, and you wouldn’t have even imagined that would have led to this.

***

“What?” Your eyes widened. ‘What did she just say?’

“I asked if you could give me a little sister. My friend has a little sister and she said that her daddy helped her mommy build her in her tummy.” Rose kept on coloring with her crayons as she talked, “Mommy’s not here, but daddy could help you,” She smiled at you then looked towards her father, “right daddy?” Ethan’s body visibly tenses at the question and he lets out an awkward laugh.

“I don’t think it works like that Rosie.”

“Why not?”

“Cause…” he swallows thickly, “cause it has to be a mommy and daddy, and she’s not a mommy.” Rose crosses her arms and puffs out her cheeks.

“That’s dumb!” She throws her crayons onto the paper and pouts.

“How ‘bout we go to bed, Rose.” You suggest.

“‘M not tired!”

“If you lay down now I’ll have time to read you that book you like, I’ll even do the funny voices.” Rose’s entire demeanor changes.

“Really? Like it when you do the fish, it’s silly.” She giggles.

“It is silly, now let’s go!” You grab Rose’s hand and lead her to her room to put her to bed. “Long ago, a young girl went with her mother to pick berries for her father who was hard at work…” You read to her making sure to do the voices extra dramatic, you always added in new voice lines to make it a little more entertaining and she loved it everytime.

***

“She’s asleep.” You walk into the kitchen finding Ethan pouring a glass of wine.

“She loves it when you read to her. Thought it was gonna be a lot harder to get her to bed since she missed her nap today.” Ethan huffed with amusement. “I can never get her down that easily, she always says I’m doing the voices wrong and that you do it better.”

“Does she really?” You walk up to the counter he’s standing by.

“Every time.” He laughs then holds his glass to you, “you want some?”

“Maybe a glass, I don’t wanna stumble home.”

“I’ve told you that I could pay for your gas to and from here, it’s not that big of an expense and it’s getting cold out.” That was Ethan, always worried about everyone else even when it inconvenienced him.

“No,” you just shake your head, “I don’t mind it. Plus, I get more steps in.”

“If your legs get cut off from frostbite you won’t get any steps in.” He starts pouring you a glass, he had already taken one out for you before you even came into the room.

“God, Ethan!” Your eyes widened and you laughed, “you’re so morbid!”

“I’m just trying to look out for you,” he slides you your glass, “and if you can’t babysit anymore I don’t think Rose will ever sleep again.” You take a sip of your drink and slosh the wine around your glass.

“Guess I’ll have to start searching for wheelchair ramps then!”

“Okay, smarty pants.” Ethan rolls his eyes.

“Or you could get her that sister, bet a new baby in the house will tire her out.” You nudge his shoulder and giggle. Ethan’s body tightens up next to you.

“Oh I… yeah that could work.” He laughs nervously and looks away as a light blush dusts his cheeks. “I’m sorry for that by the way, she… Rose has been asking for a sister since I started socializing her at that parent support group place.” You notice his embarrassment and lean in.

“Oh don’t worry, Ethan. She’s just a kid, she didn’t know what she was saying. Bet though if you bring it up in like ten years she’ll be totally embarrassed!” Ethan lets out a soft laugh but is still visibly tense.

“Yeah, probably…” he chews his lip and sucks in a breath.

“You ever thought about it?”

“W-what?” He seemed to just about jump out of his skin.

“Have you ever thought about having another kid?” You give him an amused look.

“Oh. Uh… sometimes.” Color fills his cheeks and he looks away. It was a lie. He thought about it constantly. All Ethan wanted was more kids. He just understood how much he already struggled raising Rosemary alone, and didn’t want her or another kid to suffer from his irresponsibility. 

“What did you think I meant?” You giggled and leaned in a little further, now starting to enter his space. Maybe it was the wine that emboldened you, or maybe that was just your excuse.

“I uh…” he huffed out a laugh, “I thought you meant kids with you specifically.” Immediately after saying that he realized what had just left his mouth. Wine always seemed to make him unable to shut up.

“Oh.” Your face heated up not expecting him to be so straightforward. “Well, have you?” You ask in a quieter voice.

“No! I…” he exhales and looks over at you, you guys just look at each other in silence for what feels like forever. “Yes.” His voice was so quiet if you hadn’t been laser focused on him you would’ve missed it.

“Really?” You whispered back. You didn’t sound angry or even surprised, just hopeful. He nodded.

“Have you thought about it?”

“Yes.” You answered immediately, what did you have to hide now? He wanted it too.

“You have?” Ethan looks at you completely shocked. After the words left his mouth he expected you to yell at him, slap him even, for being a creep—rightfully so, in his opinion—and then quit on the spot, not agree.

“I have.” You bite your lip and look into your glass, heat starts climbing to your face. The fact that you had thought about that… Ethan could feel his cock start to kick at his thighs.

“And what are we gonna do about that?” His voice came out a lot shakier than he intended. Sounding more like he was genuinely curious rather than confident and flirty like he intended. It didn’t matter though, hearing those words come from him made your breath hitch.

“Well…” you bite your lip thinking for a minute. ‘Oh what the hell.’ Grabbing his shirt you pull him closer and press your lips to his. It wasn’t really a hot passionate kiss, more just a ‘I really hope you don’t fire me’ kiss, well at least it wasn’t at first. Ethan’s body relaxes after a few seconds, his hands come to your waist to pull you against him. The tip of his tongue peeking from between his lips to lick a hot stripe across your bottom lip. Suddenly you’re jumping up to sit on the kitchen counter and parting your thighs so he can slot himself between them. You let your hands wander behind his back and grab at his shirt as his start to rub at your sides. One of them runs up your body to press against your neck. Your body straightens and you break the kiss with a pant.

“You like that?” He pulls back a little further so he can look from your eyes to your kiss-swollen lips. Swallowing thickly as you try to respond to his words, yet nothing seems to come out. “Hmm?” He squeezes your throat lightly and you whine. Slick pools into the gusset of your panties. You try and push your thighs together to ease the ache between your legs, only leaving you wanting and squirmy as your knees push against the sides of his hips. 

“Mmh, yeah you do.” He squeezes your neck again softly and you continue to unsuccessfully try to clench your thighs together searching for friction. Noticing this, he lets his other hand fall to your thigh so that he can pull you closer to him. Not quite close enough to feel him where you need it.

“I do, I like it.” You nod your head as you talk quietly, your eyes glazing over with want.

“Yeah?” The hand on your thigh climbs up to rest on where your thigh meets your hip and he lets his thumb run along the crotch seam of your pants. “Pretty girl.” He presses his thumb in and watches your face, seeing the way your eyelashes flutter and how your lips part slightly as you gasp. You look down to where his thumb rubs at your cunt. The fabric separating him from actually touching you providing a much needed friction on your clit.

“Ethan…” your voice nothing but a whiny whisper.

“Hmm? What sweetheart?” The hand on your throat coming up to your jaw, his thumb swiping across your lower lip making you shiver. “You want something?” He keeps eye contact and keeps rubbing his thumb around your lips. Letting his finger dip into your mouth slightly, going in and out, back and forth, slowly, never letting it move in far enough. He rubs your saliva across your lips on every hot drag out of your mouth. Your lip starts to quiver and you move your head forward a little, trying to take his thumb deeper into your mouth.

“Mmm, yes.” He bites his lip and breathes out heavily. You wrap your tongue around his thumb and start licking tentative stripes up his finger, getting more confident as his jaw slacks.

“Keep going,” he whispers, “just like that.” You let your lips close around his finger so you can start sucking around his thumb. “Oh, good girl. Doing so good for me.” His head tilts back a little before he catches himself so he can keep watching the way your lips move when you suck him in. You pull your lips off him with a pop and a string of spit connects his thumb to your lips.

“Ethan, I want more.” You take your arms from his body and put your hands on the counter, leaning back.

“You want more, what?” He raises his brows at you.

“I want more of you, want more touching.” You lean in, biting your wet lips and smiling softly.

“No.” He lets his hands move to sit over yours, pressing them softly into the counter as he leans in to you even further than you did him. “I was telling you to ask for more.” His voice is firm but gentle, and any doubt he had in the beginning was gone. It made you wet. You couldn’t help but squirm a little at what was happening, or the implication of what it could mean for later.

“Oh okay…” you swallow, “Ethan, I want more, please?” Your voice comes out whiny and shaky. 

“Of course, sweetheart.” He starts unbuttoning and unzipping your pants before helping you to stand. He stands back to watch you as you start pulling your jeans down. Ethan watches you bend forward, the way your hands slide down your legs. You're making sure to pull them off slowly and completely so you don’t look like an idiot struggling out of your pant legs. You push them to the side and look up at him as you stand. Finally really paying attention to him rather than what he’s doing. Seeing you look at him like that, he palms himself over his jeans. You stand all the way up and pull your shirt over your head. Tossing it aside before putting your hands behind your back. Biting your lip as you look from his face down to the hand that teases his cock through his pants.

“Turn around and bend over, baby.” He looks you up and down like you’re a toy and keeps touching himself.

“M’kay.” You turn around like he asks and bend yourself forward till you can feel the cold surface against your cheek.

“Good girl.” His hand roams up the back of one of your thighs all the way up to rub your lower back. You arch for him, picking your head up and putting your arm over each other in front of you. He breathes out heavily and steps forward pressing himself against your hip.

“Oh look at you. You wanna be touched don’t you, baby?” You nod your hand and bury your face in your arms. “Yeah you do.” Ethan leans in pressing his front to your back and hooks his finger under the band of your underwear. He pulls it back a little and lets it slap back against your skin softly with a smile. His hand moves down to cup your sex, the feeling making you whine. “You’re so wet. Did I do this, Hmm? You’re wet for me?” He whispers right against your neck and you nod enthusiastically.

“Yes, ‘m wet for you.” He starts carding his fingers through your slit over your underwear, soaking them even more.

“Mmm, which part? Was it when I squeezed that little throat, or maybe…” Ethan leans in further so you can feel his lips ghost over your neck, “or maybe it was when I said I fantasized about knocking you up?” You could feel your pussy gush into your panties as you moan at his words.

“Oh? Which one?” The smirk in his voice is audible.

“I… both.” Your breath is shaky and your face heats up at having to admit that.

“Both? Well I guess we’ll have to do both then. Won’t we, sweetheart?” Your lips push together hard and you press back against his hand, still sliding lazily against your slit. His hand moves up and he hooks his fingers under the band of your underwear again, but this time he starts pulling them down. Strings of slick connect you to your panties as he pulls them away.

“Look at you, so needy.” His fingers return to your slit and you arch back more. “Aww, you’re getting me all messy, baby. You know, I bet I could slip right into this needy little cunt without any preparation. You’d take it all wouldn’t you?” His fingers move to toy with your clit making you gasp.

“Mhm.” Your voice is muffled but he can still hear how whiny your tone is.

“But I’m not that mean, even though I know you’d like it. I’ll get you ready, baby, wanna hear that pretty voice while I fuck you with my fingers.” He moves his hand to line up one of his fingers and push it inside. “Oh god, so tight. Gonna stretch you out, baby.” He starts slowly dragging his finger in and out of your gummy walls. “You think you can take a little more?” Without even waiting to hear an answer he pushes another finger up into you.

“Etha-“ you whimper and bite your lip, moving backwards and forwards a little to meet his fingers when they push in. He flips his fingers over inside you and starts curling them against that spot inside you making you see stars.

“Pretty girl, you don’t know how many times I’ve thought about doing this. Bending you over the counter and filling you up while you whine and beg. Ask for it, baby. Ask me to fill you up.” He starts curling his fingers harder against your walls, pushing them against you the whole time he drags out. He stands up straight but keeps himself pressed against your hip.

“Please, Ethan. Fill me up, please.” Your voice is high and whiny. He throws his head back with a moan and starts rubbing himself against you.

“Oh, fuck. Yeah you sound so good like that. So so good.” Ethan’s voice is breathy and his other hand starts to toy with his belt, undoing it and pulling it through his belt loops to toss on the floor with a clatter. His fingers start to undo his jeans and he tries to pull them down quickly. “Shit.” He pulls his fingers out of you and you whine at the loss of stimulation. “Be patient, baby.” You look back at him as he pulls his pants and underwear down to mid-thigh. When you see his cock spring free you bite your lip and moan. Unable to look away from his leaking pink tip, your thighs clench together and your toes curl in your shoes. Ethan starts teasing the vein going up his length while he watches your face. Your mouth opens in a silent moan at the sight. “You like this, sweet girl? Seeing me touch myself while looking at you all bent over and desperate?”

“Yes, Ethan. Fuck, please, I need it.” You throw your head down onto your arms, unable to watch him any longer afraid you might cum just from seeing him.

“Of course.” He steps forward and starts rubbing his hard cock through your slit.

“Ethan, pl-“ you gasp and throw your head back when he suddenly pushes in about half way. He pulls back and pushes in slowly, going further with each stroke. Ethan’s hands grip the edge of the counter and his head falls forward. He stares intently where you two connect and lets out a quiet moan. The thought of his cock leaking pre-cum into your aching hole makes you clench around him.

“Shit. Oh fuck!” Ethan lets out a strained moan and his hand slides up your back and around your throat. The feeling of his hands on you makes you push back. He grins and squeezes the sides of your throat making you clench around him again. “Oh you do like that don’chu,” he leans forward so he’s pressed against your back and pushes all the way in, his tip touching your cervix, “gonna fill up this little hole while I squeeze your throat. You want that? Want me to cream your cunt while you get choked?” Your eyes roll back and you grind up against him at his words.

“Ethan, mmm please. Oh f…” your eyes start to water and your tongue goes limp in your mouth, “wanna be full.”

“Yeah oh, sweet girl.” He talks softly and starts fucking up into you again making sure to grind his tip right against your cervix. “I’m gonna fill you till it takes, baby.” You’re completely speechless, just moaning and whining completely at his mercy. He pulls you up against him and knocks your legs apart with his foot. His other hand coming up to slip a couple fingers passed your lips, which you immediately start sucking and licking on. “There you go, being such a good girl for me.” Ethan kisses the top of your head tenderly. You make a noise and he immediately takes his fingers out of your mouth to grip your face. “Hmm? What, sweetheart?”

“Wanna be a good girl. Jus’ for you.” The hand on your throat goes down so he can rub and toy with your clit. You moan and squirm against him at the stimulation. “You gonna cum, baby? Yeah, cum right on my cock, make a mess.” Your eyes roll back and fat tears roll down your cheeks to drop onto your chest.

“Ethan I-Ethan, mmm.” You start mumbling incoherently and he finally pushes you over. He slows his movements on you clit but keeps up his pace fucking you through your orgasm.

“Good girl, feel’ so good when you cum.” He pushes you back down on the table abruptly and puts his hands on your back keeping you there. “Take it.”

“Ethan, ‘m so sensitive, please.”

“I said take it.” You couldn’t help but just moan at the way he was talking to you. Ethan was always so sweet, you couldn’t have even imagined he could speak like that. “Oh you like that? You want me to get rough with you? Hmm?” He starts fucking into you harder, his tip bullying into your cervix. Your body just goes limp against the counter and he laughs softly. “Gonna cream this needy cunt. You want that? I know you do, baby, I can feel it.” One of his hands tangles up into your hair and pulls tentatively.

“Ethan.” You couldn’t say anything else, you couldn’t even think.

“Gonna knock you up, pretty girl. I’ll fuck you as much as it takes, till I get to see you all swollen with my child.” His voice starts getting shaky and high. He was watching the way your slick would string between you two everytime he pulled back. Suddenly his moans started to turn into whimpers and you could hear him suck air through his teeth. “Oh fuck…” Ethan throws his head back and pushes all the way into you, pressing his tip right against your cervix. Hot thick stripes of cum painted your walls. “There you go, good girl.” His head tilts back and he closes his eyes. He lets go of your hair and starts running his fingers along your back gently. All that could be heard was the heavy breaths that filled the air. He pulls out and you whine at the empty feeling. “You did so good.” He pulls you straight up against him and holds you. You can feel his cum start to drip and run down your thighs. “How do you feel, sweetheart?”

“Feel good.” Your voice was quiet and weak.

“Yeah? I'm glad, pretty girl. Let’s get you cleaned up.” He kisses your shoulder softly.

“Mmh, m’kay.” You close your eyes and lay your head against him.

“Let’s go.” He picks you up and starts carrying you to the bathroom to clean you off. “Think you’re gonna have to come around more often with a little one on the way.”

***

You were so glad you took this job.

#anasanthology #anyas world #anya’s world #resident evil #re8 fanfiction #re8 #re biohazard #re7 #ethan winters #ethan winters imagine #ethan winters x you #ethan winters x reader #fanfic #re7 biohazard #re7 fanfiction

[firstkanaphans]

Aww these are all so cute but Im gonna go with R for TinnGun ❤️ Been missing them lately. Hope you decide to write it, if not that's ok! Big hug Sarah

Always happy to bless y'all with some TinnGun. Enjoy!

Reuniting after a long separation::

Tinn was starting to think he wasn’t cut out to be a rock star’s boyfriend. The hectic schedule he could handle. The rabid fans he could deal with. But Chinzhilla was currently on week three of a four-week tour and Tinn was not handling it well. Gun had been on tour before, but never this long. Never this far away. Never on Tinn’s birthday.

“You’re coming home next week, right?” Tinn whined into the phone, trying—and failing—to make it sound like a casual proclamation and not a matter of life or death. On the other end of the line, Gun was suspiciously quiet. Then, he let out a heavy sigh.

“Our manager wants to extend the tour.”

Tinn’s stomach dropped. “What?”

“Just for an extra two weeks,” Gun added. He didn’t sound thrilled by the prospect, but Tinn suspected that was mostly his fault. If Gun didn't have anyone back home waiting for him, he would be having the time of his life. “Would you be okay with that?”

“Of course I’m okay with it,” Tinn said, although he couldn’t quite hide the disappointment in his voice. But whatever Gun wanted, Tinn wanted it too. Gun’s dreams were his dreams, just like his dreams were Gun’s. Still, that didn’t make the days and the weeks spent without him hurt any less. “I just miss you, that’s all.”

“I miss you, too,” Gun said. There was a yearning in his voice Tinn had only ever heard when he sang. “Next time you have to come with us.”

“I’ll try,” Tinn grumbled, eyeing the thick stack of med school books piled high on his desk. One day, maybe he would finally be able to become the roadie he was destined to be, but today was not that day.

He was startled from his thoughts by a knock at the door. “That’ll be Tiw.”

“Okay, well, I guess I’ll let you go then,” Gun said, sounding dejected. It was Tinn’s turn to feel guilty. Although it was his birthday, he would much rather spend the night in his room listening to Gun’s voice than at a bar surrounded by people who were not Gun. “I’ve already told Tiw that drinks are on me tonight, so just enjoy yourself. Happy Birthday, babe. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

He hung up the phone and then crawled out of bed as Tiw knocked again.

“Hold your horses!” he cried. Didn’t Tiw know he was grieving? It was the first birthday he’d spent without Gun since they started dating. Tiw was lucky he’d agreed to leave the house at all. There was another knock. “I said I’m coming!”

He threw open the door, prepared to scold Tiw for his abhorrent manners, but it wasn’t Tiw standing in the doorway. It was Gun, cell phone still in hand. Tinn was almost certain he was hallucinating.

“Surprise!” Gun said with a smirk. “Did you miss me?”

Comforted by the sound of his voice—his actual voice, no longer distorted by a phone speaker—Tinn lunged forward and hugged him.

“You’re here! You’re actually here!” he exclaimed, but then the reality of the situation caught up to him and he pulled back. “Wait. How are you here?”

Gun shook his head, trying not to laugh. “You didn’t seriously think I would miss this, did you? What kind of boyfriend would I be if I wasn’t here to celebrate your birthday?”

Tinn couldn’t stop smiling. He was pretty sure he had never been this happy in his whole life. “I’ve missed you so much!” he said, scooping Gun back into a hug.

“I’ve missed you, too,” Gun laughed. Then he pulled back just enough to give Tinn a saucy grin. “But we’ve only got twenty-four hours before I have to leave, so less talking. More kissing.”

Tinn was smiling so wide that the first press of lips was more teeth than anything, but eventually they regained their rhythm. They stepped over the threshold of the home they had built together, kissing and laughing and relishing each other’s presence after so long apart, and they spent the night in each other’s arms—a hello and a goodbye all wrapped in one.

For the Fluff Prompt ABCs

#my school president #my school president fic #tinngun #tinngun fic #sarah writes things #fluff prompt abcs

[xxaraaq]

𝘽𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧

Sorry that I didn't post anything for like three months, but it dont matter anymore, cus I'm here now

MILF! Ochako Ururaka x Black!Fem!reader

┍━☽【❖】☾━┑

At the ripe age of thirty two, Uruaka Ochako would consider herself to be a great mother. But with her boys, nine, seven, and four – she’s so fucking tired. Tired of not being able to catch a break, tired of not being able to live her life as a young woman, and really fucking tired of having a man child of a husband who couldn’t give less of a shit about her and their kids.

She’s tried to be okay with it, but she just cant be. But when she voices it, all she's met with – ‘it’s not like he's cheating on you, he probably just doesn’t find you attractive anymore.’ or ‘just lose some weight or offer to do more, he’s obviously distant for a reason’. And she’s tried all these things, so, so many times. But nothing ever worked, so she’s just given up. And maybe she just had shitty friends, but the two of you first, she had actually felt something.

“So wait – you're telling me that you haven’t had sex in how long?” You whisper, choking on your drink “Eleven months.” She sighs, taking a drink of her mimosa – she hadn’t touched her husband intimately in almost a year, and it was getting to her. She was getting antsy, and she was getting tired of pleasuring herself on her own.

“I would commit suicide, like, actually kill myself. Are you ok?” and Uruaka knows that she’s not, but there isn't anything she could really do.

“I’ve been so stressed out that I don’t know what today is, I’m not even joking.” She says, the fatigue apparent on her figure

“I seriously don’t know why you won’t get a divorce, I will literally move in with you to help out with the kids if that’s what it takes.” And your serious, the look in your eyes directed right at her

“If I could just get one day, that’s all I would need.” She groans, dreaming of the day where that happens

As the conversation goes along, her husband, m/n, comes up. “Hey honey, me and the boys are gonna go watch the game at Mikey’s house. I’ll be back later.” He says, turning away soon after. With an eye roll and shooing hand, she sends him off with malice in her heart. 

“He really gets on my fuckin nerves.” You say, side eyeing him as he walks away with his friends.

“I genuinely don’t care anymore.” Ochako says, getting up to go to the kitchen

Following after her, you close the door behind you, pulling down the blinds

“What’s wrong?” You say, opening your arms for an embrace

“I am so sick of him.” She says, a shake in her voice

“I know baby, I know.” You say, rubbing soothing circles on her back

“I get that he doesn’t care about me, but can he at least fucking act like it.” She cries into your chest

“He doesn’t deserve you, not like I do.” and she knew it was true

“Lemme make you feel better, how bout’ that?” You ask, pulling back from her

“W-what?” She, wiping the tears from her face

“You heard me, Ochako. Let me help you, you need it.”

The both of you know that anyone could walk in at any moment – but that didn’t stop you from kissing her – nor did it stop her from kissing you back. By the time she gained her senses back she was in her shared room.

“We can’t, everyone’s outside.” She says in between kisses

“We already are, and who cares, no one’s gonna come in here.” You shush her, attacking her neck with hickeys

She moans, grasping your hair in her hands – she doesn’t know why she keeps denying herself, she can’t even remember the last time she came by someone else’s touch.

“Fuck.” She moans, the feeling of your hands traveling over her breasts driving her mad. 

You pull down the top of her light blue sundress, exposing her front to you.

“So pretty.” You groan, capturing her breast in your hand, rolling her nipple in between your fingers

Ochako whimpers at the feeling of your fingers toying with her, her getting wetter by the second.

“Take it off for me, yeah?” You ask, tugging at hem of her dress

Nodding, she quickly strips down, throwing it to a random spot in the room.

“So fucking gorgeous.” You utter, hands finding rest on her hips

“Don’t be weird.”She says, wrapping her arms around neck

She kisses you – passionately – as you lead her and yourself onto the bed. You suck on her neck as you make you way down to her thighs, lifting one onto your shoulder.

“Can I?” You ask, playing the fabric of her underwear

“Don’t ask me stupid questions.” She groans, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear as you smile

Taking her answer as a yes, you pull her panties off onto one ankle, licking a slow stripe up her slit. You rub slow circles on her thighs as you continue your assault on her cunt.

“Ohhhhh fuckkkk” She whines, throwing her head back in her ecstasy

“Tastes so good.” You mutter into her, the vibrations of your voice going straight to her core

She doesn’t know why she hasn’t let you touch her sooner – the fluid movements of your tongue making her delusional. But the best part is, all she has to do is sit there and take it.

You massage your thumb around her puckering hole before inserting two into her. “Shitttt” she mewls, holding both her legs up to her chest

“I can’t, s’ too much.” She slurs, her legs shaking as you slurp and suck up her excess

“You can do it mama, cum for me.” You say, moving your fingers in and out of her at an even quicker pace

“Shittttttttt” She screams, squirting onto you and the sheets

“Damn, I didn’t know you could squirt like that.” You say, licking her off of you

“I, I didn’t know either.” She exhales, letting her legs drop onto the now wet sheets

“Uh uh, why’d you let go.” You say, rubbing slow circles on her now puffy clit

“W-wait, we can’t keep going, everyone’s still outside.”

“And they’ll stay outside, I never said I was done with you. Eleven months is a long time y’know; I can’t let go now.” You explain, Entering her once more

Ochako moans as she thinks about what she got herself into. And she really, really hopes that everyone knows exactly where the bathroom is.

┕━☽【❖】☾━┙

Yayy I post. Dont expect me to post until summer now byee.

-Nene

#Nene #boku no hero academia #urakara ochako #bnha ochaco uraraka #mha ochako #x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha x fem reader #mha x black reader

[snoutbleed]

Cigarette butts collected before Stefan’s feet. Their dying flames hissed, crimson embers fading into ash. Some had already gone cold. Another burnt end flew into the pile and splashed some ash onto the weasel’s shoe.

Albert had made a game out of disposing the cigarettes he burned through in the past hour: the short, pudgy bulldog with chemical-stained teeth drew a circle with the ash, then flicked cigarette butts into the center. So far, they made four of their ten attempts. Stefan didn’t want to keep count, but the circle was drawn so close to his shoes that each shot drew his attention.

The weasel frowned. “I swear, there’s enough here to set me ablaze.”

“Come on, I wasn’t aiming for you,” the bulldog sneered. He flashed grimy teeth at the weasel. “Want a smoke yourself?”

Stefan reached for his pocket but forced his hand to a halt. The act of producing his lighter felt second nature, which alarmed him. Cravings got the best of him, meaning it was time to stop. He raised that same hand at his friend, shaking his head.

Albert raised an eyebrow. “Trying to cut back?” He still held out the cigarette.

“I’ve…whittled away at the daily count, trying to keep it below three.”

“How many have you had today?”

“…four.” He still felt good about it, which worsened his guilt.

“You can blame the boss for that one, then. If I smoke, I’m bored.” The bulldog raised his own lighter and went for another puff. The weasel lost count. “And if I’m bored, you’re killing me. Gotta burn time somehow.”

Stefan’s guilt gnawed at his chest like the nicotine vice constantly binding his heart during every waking moment, reminding him to take another smoke and tie the bind even tighter. “Those things are gonna kill you someday, man,” he sighed, hoping it would make him feel better about his addiction. All it did was remind him of his mistakes.

“Whatever,” Albert replied, uncaring, unsympathetic. They tried to quit a long time ago—keyword tried.

The weasel leaned against the wall and looked to the side. He couldn’t bear the sight of his friend smoking away years of their life, something he felt tempted to do himself, but he couldn’t bring himself to discourage one of his few buddies even if led them straight off a cliff. There he goes again, pot calling the kettle black.

Earlier that week the weasel went on a jog. A few minutes into the run he felt as if something crushed his lungs. The weasel kept running to push himself, but he soon came to a wheezing halt. He felt lapses of wooziness from the wind being squeezed out his chest. Yet, Stefan continued smoking later that day. He tried to put off the first cigarette but his hand shook towards the pack. His remaining self-control went up in smoke.

“I’d rather die from smoking than the job,” Albert added.

“Here we go,” Stefan rolled his eyes, but against impatience and addled nerves the conversation made for distraction.

“A boss like Ukko, or should I say ‘The Butcher’, makes a lot of enemies.” The bulldog jabbed his cigarette in Stefan’s direction. “Therefore, that makes them our enemies.”

“I dunno, getting gunned down sounds better than slowly choking from cigs.”

Albert’s voice hardened, “I’m going out on my own terms.”

“Look at us, we sound suicidal,” Stefan lamented.

“We’re smokers.”

“I’m quitting.”

“Such a quitter.”

“Fine, fuck you then.”

Albert laughed, so did Stefan. Back to waiting they went, watching and thinking nothing until the boss came. The only thing that fancied their attention was the nicotine fog bellowing from the dust pile Albert had accumulated.

Eventually, Stefan’s ears stood at attention. His hearing picked up the distant crackling of tires sooner than his sight did, homing his gaze onto a Trabant pulling into the alley.

A brown boar in the driver’s seat greeted the two with a face made of stone. The weasel felt he was in for more than he bargained, a gut feeling more bothersome than the hungering cries of nicotine-starved nerves. An overwhelming pressure weighed on his conscience whenever in the presence of his hulking boss. The Butcher always kept him on his toes. He couldn't call them Ukko anyway—making it personal added weight his spine warped under.

Ukko’s car shook as they squeezed out. As the door opened, the vehicle’s weight shifted to the driver’s side, then bounced back into place once the boar crawled out. Trabants weren’t built for juggernauts such as the boss, made more apparent when standing upright revealed he towered over the vehicle. The staring contest never ended with this boar. However, he broke eye contact: he looked back on the path they came, pausing in expectation.

When nothing showed up Ukko's eyes returned to Stefan. Without a word, the boar commanded Stefan’s attention. He didn’t break the staring contest as he approached the boss at the car’s trunk.

“Time to work,” Ukko whistled.

Stefan and Albert shuffled over to the trunk. Inside was a hard case filled to the brim with cassette tapes. The weasel inspected a tape’s dimensions but couldn’t identify markings.

Albert tilted. “Cassette tapes—is the wall still up?” he asked, dumbfounded but amused by their sarcasm.

Confused, Stefan looked to Ukko for an explanation.

“The client asking us to move these is an odd character, but it means a good paycheck,” Ukko explained.

Stefan felt protest erupt from within. “There’s something I don’t like about these things,” he replied, shaking his head.

Albert rifled through the case as if there were something else in there. “There’s always some weird reason someone wants cargo like this transported. I mean, could be smut, could be snuff, something no one wants to get caught with.”

He perked up from the trunk. “I know I shouldn’t peek, but come on, stuff like this gets the imagination running.”

The boar's throat stiffened. “I don’t know the contents, and neither should you," he strained.

Ukko reached for their back pocket. Their flannel moved with their body, and inside their unbuttoned top, Stefan spotted red stains on Ukko’s hip. He was handed an envelope, which he took after some reluctant seconds. The weasel bit the inside of his lip as he tried to shut out what his instincts deduced.

The ledger unfolded into a marked map. It highlighted the road from Berlin to Leipzig. Long drive for someone who couldn't visit the video store.

“Keep your iron by your side,” Ukko added.

Stefan felt himself drift in and out of sleep while he nuzzled the window.

He fell into a trance watching the countryside whip past him. It was a blissful boredom, immersion broken when the occasional instinct to smoke came up in his brain. Now he validated what his friend meant, but according to the nerves, he’d also be at liberty to fault him for not driving fast enough.

Fortunately, the last reminder of reality came with Albert nudging his shoulder. The countryside was consumed by baroque buildings. He grinned, for he was bored of seeing nothing but grass.

Stefan broke the silence, “we should get lunch afterward.”

“Sounds like a plan. You pay.”

Stefan chuckled. Small price to pay.

They ventured deeper into the city, shadows of trees and buildings leaping over the car, and not long after, concrete monoliths channeled them into claustrophobic channels.

The car funneled into less visually savory parts of the city: where greenery poked through the brick roads and debris piled up. It meant the right path, Stefan leading the way while Albert poked fun at their ability to give directions.

Stefan dragged his finger to the outlined destination and the car began slowing down. He felt a sigh of relief crest his throat before reassurance was scared off by Albert cursing, “…what the fuck.” The bulldog mashed the horn and ground the car to a halt.

Another car was stopped in front of them, this one with the hood popped open. Great, out of all the places to break down—right on the cusp of finishing the job.

A tall, sauvé hound with a smile plastered straight on a crooked muzzle approached the smugglers. They were taller than the boss. A dark suit hugged their lanky proportions.

When Albert rolled down the window, the man chimed, “I am so GLAD to see you two.” He stood a few feet shy from the driver’s seat.

“Let me guess-”

The hound snapped his fingers. “Car catastrophe, bingo.” He raised his shoulders with a smile. “Sorry about the inconvenience. Can you help a neighbor out?"

Albert turned to Stefan. “We’ll…ring up a mechanic in the area, yeah?” The bulldog wore a long face when facing Stefan, who was visibly weary.

“I know we're trying to pull a reason out of our ass not to be here but it's not like we can turn around.” Stefan indicated the buildings, “we’re packed in here.”

“Well...” Albert lowered his voice, “I really don’t like the look of this guy either way."

"I won't to be in your hair before long,” Faust interjected. "I got places to be too."

Albert rolled his eyes, then faced the hound. “Alright, we’ll help you…” he trailed off, indicating the sauvé one to introduce himself.

“Faust,” he answered.

“Nice to meet you, Faust,” Stefan replied with a restrained voice. He felt Albert flick their hand at him.

Likewise, Stefan was apprehensive about the stranger, but unlike Albert, he didn’t see the situation as lopsided. The smugglers were close to finishing the job, after all. Stefan leapt on the task of checking Faust’s car. Meanwhile, the bulldog joined the suave one near the driver’s seat of the contraband carriage.

“So what’s wrong with your car?” Stefan buried his head into the machinery.

“I think it’s something with the engine—that light came on.”

“This the first time this happened to your car?” Albert asked.

“Unfortunately, no,” he chuckled nervously.

Stefan began rummaging through the engine components. Clean on the surface, but that compelled him to dig deeper.

“Sounds like it’s time for an upgrade.” The bulldog knocked the smuggler’s sedan. “Got this one for the distance it can cover. Cost an arm and a leg and then some, but it's a worthy investment.”

The weasel ran his eyes along the engine block depths, but nothing was there for him either.

“Now that you’ve mentioned it, I’ve thought of browsing the market.”

“A man like you looks like they could buy it.”

“Oh shucks, the suit is a formality. It's alright but my employer loves it.”

The notion of Ukko making them wear suits crossed Stefan’s mind. He didn’t know why the thought came to mind, but it generated amusement. End of the day, they were still crooks.

Still, there was some honest work involved. He helped his boss with their car a few times, even though the weasel began questioning if his skills were deceiving him.

“Really, what’s your job?”

“Chauffer. Capitalists are so busy they need someone else to run their wheels. Somehow they make a role for everyone."

Albert’s nostrils puffed, “…if it pays, at least.”

Double check, triple check, the weasel couldn’t find anything. Whatever wasn’t right with this car didn’t want to be found, and his search began to feel futile.

“Say, you smoke, Faust?”

“I do.” One could hear the smile radiating from the man.

“You can pay us back with a pack if you have one.”

“I hope you like Karo.” Faust eagerly manifested a pack but dropped it right as the recipient reached out. “Oops,” he said, earning a curse from Albert.

The bulldog bent down for the cancer sticks. With his back shown to Faust, the hound grabbed him by the shirt collar and pinned their head to the car. Albert’s confusion was shut down by the door slamming into his skull. The suave one let go and Albert fell. No grunts, only red spurting from the dent in his head.

Onto the next target, and Faust made eye contact.

The weasel's interest piqued when he barely caught sight of his friend falling. He reached for his gun but the hound was quicker to the draw. Three shots came from Faust, each of them piercing the weasel’s chest in misty bursts. He endured, his body wavering as he stared down the shooter with wonder twinkling in his protruding eyes, self-defense more reflexive than processing what he was defending himself from. The thought of Albert’s wellbeing hadn’t even crossed his mind. But the weasel would find out, for he’d join his friend on the pavement. Albert’s fingers twitched, which a finishing shot from Faust put an end to.

Stefan rolled over, pleading for air as the weight of death wore on his chest. He choked on his own cries as he'd begun to feel the searing brass burn through his lungs. Nothing got through, strength slipping beyond reach. He writhed, desperately trying to muster the adrenaline to make a last stand, but Faust had already approached to finish the job.

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #creative writing #writing #furry #furry writing #long story short #oc:ukko #oc:faust #thank you for reading my stuff

[mistergandalf]

ULTIMATE TOLKIEN BLORBO ROUND FIVE: SECOND CHANCE BRACKET IS COMPLETE!

Here’s who won:

Aragorn vs. Bilbo Baggins

Éowyn vs. Meriadoc “Merry” Brandybuck

Boromir vs. Elrond Peredhel

Peregrin “Pippin” Took vs. Fëanor

Truly a gripping round. Check the tags on the races because they are an absolute riot. The fact that so many of you cried SO MUCH about having to choose between Merry and Éowyn, only for her to stay in the lead the entire time, is killing me. It sounds like it was SO difficult for you. Sooooo difficult.

AND NOW, we’ve created a 🔔REMAAAAAATCH 🔔 between Aragorn and Éowyn! They last met ten days ago in Round One. Will people vote the same, or will they switch their vote? Will it be a close match yet again? Will the increased popularity of this bracket create drastically different results? Guess we’ll find out tomorrow…

And now we must say our last goodbye to some of our beloved blorbos. Eliminated this round were the following:

Bilbo Baggins

Meriadoc “Merry” Brandybuck

Elrond Peredhel

Fëanor

I’m a little heartbroken, not gonna lie. We’ve lost all our Silmarillion characters now—even Elrond, which hurts. AND, finally, some of our Hobbits! I can’t believe it. You guys eliminated Blorbo Baggins.

Round Six (Second Chance Bracket) will start at 12PM EDT (GMT -4)! Once that bracket is complete, we’ll need the results from the main bracket to continue. So Round Four on the primary bracket will start Friday, May 5th, at 12PM EDT (GMT -4).

And now, for some analytics...

Who got the most votes?

ONCE AGAIN, Pippin smashed the competition with 1,909 votes. That’s insane. But also it’s not—I get it. He’s been my blorbo for 20 years. You’re all valid. For reference, though, the person who received the second-most votes this round was Éowyn, and she had 1,117 votes. Pippin had 732 more votes than she did—but of course, her match was more evenly split.

On the losing side, Elrond gave the bracket over to the race of Men with 962 votes. This seems to keep happening to him.

Who got the least votes?

Fëanor has been eliminated with 347 votes this round. I mean, hey. When you’re up against Pippin, there’s only so much you can do. And besides, as many of you pointed out, he’s more of a poor little meow meow than a blorbo.

Which races were the most contentious?

I genuinely didn’t know who was going to win between Boromir and Elrond until the very end. It went back and forth SO many times. But after a very contentious battle, Boromir emerged with a 4% lead.

Aragorn vs. Bilbo was close, with Aragorn winning by 10%... but also, that race had like. Half the number of votes as all the other races. What’s up with that? Every other race had over 2,000 votes total, but this one didn’t even break a thousand.

The race between Éowyn and Merry was close the entire time, but Éowyn managed to hold onto her 12% lead from pretty early on. Did you like the pictures I chose? I thought that was a stroke of evil genius. 😈

Which races were the least contentious?

There were only four races this round, and I’ve already mentioned three of them. The only race that wasn’t a question mark at all was Pippin vs. Fëanor. The creator of the Silmarils, shaper of the First Age of Middle-earth, got absolutely bodied by a four-foot-tall 28-year-old. Great job, Pip.

That’s all for today. Enjoy your rematch. See you tomorrow!

#ultimate tolkien blorbo #lotr #lord of the rings #the hobbit #the silmarillion #silmarillion #tolkien

[quaranmine]

The Incandescence of a Dying Light (Chapter Three)

In which Grian is not immune to the good times, and both fire and watching happen. 

Chapter Three: 8,718 words

<< Chapter Two | Masterpost | Chapter Four >>

hiiiiiii! welcome to chapter three! this is the other half that i had to split off of chapter two and as you can see by its wordcount, i probably could've split it again if there was a place to do so. lots of firewatching related things in this one, so it was fun to write!

CW: mild conversational talk of past injury, conversation/story involving alcohol/drunkeness. Continuation of the themes of loss/grief. This chapter may contain spoilers for Top Gun (1986)

May 1989

It’s a sunny day, like the day before it and the day before it. Summer is creeping into the mountains, slowly taking the frigid edge from the wind that whips around Grian’s lookout tower. And although temperatures often still dip below freezing at night, the stream in Thunder Canyon is fuller and fuller with each passing day as the snow melts off the southern slopes of the peaks. 

There’s wildflowers on the alpine meadows in the distance, dotted between fresh green grass. There’s birds in the trees. When Grian steps outside, he hears the sounds of running water wherever he goes–little trickles of ephemeral streams borne from the snows of the winter. 

Grian is cleaning his tower today. It’s a day he’s working, so his process goes a little like this:

Sweep part of the floor. After a minute, look up and scan the horizon. Go back to sweeping, sweep the dust out the door, start to scrub on the dirtiest parts of the floor, and realize you’ve got no water.

Go fetch water for cleaning, and haul the heavy bucket up the four story tower from the spigot on the ground. Do an in-depth scan around the tower since it’s been a while since the last time you looked. Work on the floor some more, get bored, set the bucket aside and begin organizing shelves and supplies. Stand up every so often to look again.

You get it. Grian’s not fully sure yet what the best rhythm for looking is–he doesn’t want to miss anything, but surely there isn’t much opportunity for changes if he does it every few minutes. It’s a little jarring to have your attention so split between tasks, but that’s the job. You can do whatever you want in the tower as long as you remember to look. The looking is the reason he’s paid, and as distracted Grian may be, he still intends to do this job with a determination to make Mumbo proud. 

Grian is just about to set out to clean the windows when his radio goes off again. It’s Scar. He sets down his supplies to go pick up the radio. 

“Good morning, Two Forks,” Scar greets breezily. “What are you up to this fine morning?”

“Are you feeling separation anxiety already?” Grian snipes back. “We only spoke an hour ago when we did morning weather reports with the rest of the Forest Service.”

“No! Can’t a man be curious?”

Grian rolls his eyes. “I’m just cleaning. It’s amazing the amount of dust that gets blown in here.” Or tracked in here from his boots every time he ventures into the forest, oops. 

“Hm. At least that’s something to do,” Scar says, before complaining: “I’m bored.”

“I don’t think this is the job for you if you’re bored,” Grian says. 

“Hey!” Scar cries. “I’ve done this job a lot longer than you have. I’m allowed to be bored. Rookies aren’t allowed to be bored.”

Grian’s been here for three weeks, but he’s already accepted his fate that he’s now Scar’s go-to person to talk to when he’s bored. He wants to ask if Scar has ever tried to strike up friendships with the other lookouts in the area, or if he always talks this much to the lookouts he’s supervising, but he feels like that question will only put Scar on the defensive. And really, he doesn’t mind the guy–it’s just this is nothing like what he anticipated when he took the job. 

For some people, the isolation of it all is precisely the draw. 

Grian starts to clean the windows, sticking the radio in his pocket for easy access since Scar’s in a clearly talkative mood again. The windows must always be clean, lest some spot or smudge on the glass make it difficult for smoke to be spotted in the distance. 

After a minute or two of silence, Scar speaks again. “Do you like movies, G? What’s your favorite movie?”

“I don’t know,” Grian says. “I don’t have one.”

Movies were always Mumbo’s thing, not Grian’s. He hasn’t paid attention to anything that came out in the past year or so. It just wasn’t important anymore. 

He smiles a bit though, remembering how Mumbo was always dragging him to the theater near their university back in England. They’d try to sneak into movies without paying sometimes, and had gotten kicked out on three separate occasions. But the owner of the theater had liked Mumbo, with his endearing smile and nervous habits,  and had never tried to ban him from the theater. When Grian thinks back on it, he wonders if sometimes they had just been allowed to stay. 

“I can’t believe you don’t have a favorite movie,” Scar says. “My favorite movie is Top Gun! Did you ever see it?”

“Um, no,” Grian says, although he remembers the name. It was everywhere, for a while. Entertainment about the American military didn’t exactly spark any patriotism in him though, dual citizenship or not.  

“Oh my goodness,” Scar says. “Not only do you not have a favorite movie but you’ve never seen Top Gun! You’re in worse shape than I thought, G-man.”

“How will I ever survive,” Grian says. 

“It’s only the greatest movie of all time,” Scar says. 

“Uh-huh,” Grian says. If he plays this right, he’ll be able to finish cleaning the windows without having to reply at all. “What’s it about?”

“Wait, you’ve never even heard of it? You don’t even know what it’s about? Top Gun? It was like the biggest movie of the year?”

“I guess you’ll just have to tell me about it,” Grian says, and ah–that’s done it. He’s bought time.

“Oh my goodness,” Scar says, and Grian can’t help but smile ever so slightly at how excited he seems. “So it opens with this amazing synth score, and like–the score on the whole movie is incredible, really. And it opens with the great music, and the whole intro is just the jets flying around–it’s about Navy pilots–and they’re real planes! They actually filmed in F-14 fighter jets–”

Grian sets the radio on the deck and carefully steps around it, cleaning the outside windows, sun warm on his back. When it’s time to step inside to look again, he picks the radio up and takes it with him, carrying Scar’s voice along. 

He’s talking about some volleyball scene that’s apparently iconic, although Grian had been under the impression this was a plane movie, not a sports movie. He also talks about which actors were his favorites in the film–some Grian has heard of, others not so much. Mumbo’s probably heard of them all, though. 

Grian frowns at the streaks on the window. He thinks that next time he’s asked to report any feedback, he’ll ask if they can supply his tower with a new squeegee, since the rubber on this one is very worn. He’d been a little surprised that such a specific tool had been in his tower at all given the distinct lack of other amenities–like running water, for one–but it made sense for a room surrounded on all sides by windows. 

The next time he tunes in, Scar is giving him a demonstration of that highway to the danger zone song he’s heard all over the radio. Grian stops what he’s doing and puts a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter, as if there’s anyone around at all to hear him laugh. The thing is, Scar wouldn’t be half bad at it if he was taking it seriously but this rendition of the song is…distinctly not. It has no right being as charming as it is. 

Grian lets him ramble for a long time. The exact length of time doesn’t matter, because a location like this lays the very nature of time at your feet, rippling out infinitely along with the hills. There’s just the warm spring sun and cool spring breeze and the clouds in the bright blue sky and the cry of birds and the whisper of wind in the trees and the sound of Scar’s voice. They’ve got forever and a day out here, where Grian measures the passage of time by the length of the shadows on the deck.

“You have to watch the movie,” Scar concludes his spiel with. 

“I feel like I’ve seen it already,” Grian says, and he isn’t exaggerating.  

“No no no,” Scar says. “Something like this has to be seen with your own eyes! Experienced! Felt! It’s about the atmosphere, the music, the feelings! You gotta go rent it whenever you go home.”

“And if I don’t?” Grian says. He’s walked back inside temporarily to scan the horizon once again. There’s no little wisps of smoke to be found. “You’ve done such a good job explaining the plot to me already.”

“Then you aren’t allowed to come back as a lookout next summer,” Scar says petulantly. “I will remember, you know. I’ll ask you every time until you see it. Eventually it’ll get so annoying you’ll have to watch it. ”

And it’s–it’s at this moment where the reality of this hits Grian once again. The wind feels colder than it did a moment ago. Scar thinks Grian might come back next year. And maybe that’s some of Grian’s fault, because he’d played up how much he wanted this job when he was interviewed for it. When he answered the newspaper ad with his resume and application, he’d asked for placement in Shoshone National Forest as his first and only preference. He’d emphasized this location specifically. They must all think of him as particularly enthusiastic for fire-watching. 

But the only thing that mattered about this location, this national forest, this tower, this job, was Mumbo. He just has to get close. He was sent home empty-handed last time, the search parties had eventually turned from “rescue” to “recovery,” searches were altered and stopped due to fires and eventually stalled altogether when the weather finally turned in the fall. So he just…he has to get close, because Denver is too far away, but as long as Grian is right here it’ll all be fine and he can fix it. 

Grian has plans to skip town the moment he finds Mumbo. 

“Do you think I’m coming back?” he asks quietly. 

Scar seems to interpret the question a little differently than Grian meant it. “I think you’re doing great G-man,” he says. “You’ve learned everything so quickly. I don’t see why they wouldn’t hire you for next summer. You’re so thorough and determined to get things right that the Forest Service would be dumb if they weren’t glad to have you.”

“Uh,” Grian says, a little unclear on how to accept a compliment. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Scar continues, “as your supervisor, I can report any issues I see with you, so you’d maybe wanna think about seeing Top Gun. Wouldn’t want me to mark you as deficient, of course.”

“This is manipulation,” Grian says. “I’m telling everyone that this is an unsafe workplace. I’m being coerced! Coerced into seeing a plane movie!”

“Grian,” Scar cries, scandalized. “How could you possibly call it a ‘plane movie’ after everything I’ve just told you! Were you even listening?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Grian says. “Synth, danger zone, F-14s, motorcycles, need for speed, volleyball. Is that all?”

“There’s so much more than that! But, well, maybe that too. It’s a lot of fun.” Scar pauses for a moment, and Grian uses the space to try and think of something else to banter back with, but before he gets a chance Scar speaks again, softer this time. 

“I liked Goose’s death,” he says, before quickly walking that statement back into something a little less shocking. “Or–I didn’t like it, it made me sad but…things happen, I guess. It was an accident. It was preventable. It wasn’t Mav’s fault. But he was still…guilty, when he grieved. And we watched him grieve.”

“Oh,” Grian says, and he doesn’t really know what else to add to that. “That sounds nice.”

“It is. I told you it’s my favorite movie.”

“Maybe I should watch it.”

»»———-　　———-««

June 1989

Some hikers stop by in the early morning, just after Grian makes his weather report of the day. They are the first people he’s actually seen since he started not quite a full month ago, although Scar told him there’d likely be more as they got deeper into the summer. Particularly, he said, there might be more tourists this year since people want to check the extent of the damages from the severe fires last year. A lot of people had been concerned that the whole Yellowstone area burned to the ground after the media firestorm, you see, and wanted to see it for themselves.

The hikers are keenly interested in the tower and happy to ask Grian questions about it, which he answers to the best of his ability. He lets them briefly tour the lookout tower–it’s a small room so there’s not much to see and it’s cramped with three additional people in it. They look out the windows at all of the country they’ve been hiking through and trace their paths along the mountains. Grian points out Jonesy Lake, the place they’d been camping, to the west. 

It feels like being put on the spot though, to answer all these questions with so little experience in the job, so he’s happy when they decide to get going a few minutes later. 

“I saw some hikers,” Grian says into his radio, watching them hike away until they disappear into the forest again. 

“Are they on their way out?” Scar asks.

“Yeah,” Grian says. “I told them about the storm this afternoon and they said they knew about it and were heading back.”

“Hm, that’s good at least,” Scar says. He sighs. “They were leaving on your trail?”

“Yeah.”

“That trail is difficult,” Scar says, and Grian agrees–it’s one of the reasons he’s opted to not go back into town on his days off. It’s just too much trouble. The other reason is that his days off are already preoccupied with a more important activity. “Maybe you should contact the rangers and give them a heads up that these people are on the trail.”

“Like what?” Grian asks. “You don’t think they’re going to make it?”

“They might,” Scar says. He sounds tired. “They might not. Last thing we need is a couple of drenched wet freezing hikers on that trail. If you give the rangers a heads up, they might be able to check the trailhead to make sure they got back to their car on-time.”

 “Copy that,” Grian says. “I’ll be back.”

He flips the radio back to the official frequency, the one that broadcasts forest-wide, and calls in. He always feels a little self-conscious on this line, never quite sure of who can hear him. It goes out to dispatch, fire crews, other lookouts, rangers, and any hobbyist who might know the frequencies to listen in on. There’s dozens of unknown ears listening to his every word.

He waits a moment, making sure he isn’t interrupting any priority call taking place, and proceeds when the channel is silent. 

“Dispatch, this is Two Forks.”

“Two Forks, proceed,” comes the response. 

“Reporting three hikers that stopped at the tower this morning around 9:30 am,” he says. “They were traveling from Jonesy Lake onto the Thorofare trail back to the trailhead. It’s a long hike and I’m concerned they might get caught in the storm this afternoon before they make it back so I’m giving a heads up.”

“Copy that,” Dispatch says. “We’ll check the trailhead after the storm to make sure they made it back. We’ll be able to find their permit too. Pay attention this afternoon, Two Forks, it’s officially fire season now.”

“Affirmative,” Grian says.

He flips his radio’s frequency to the now-familiar channel he and Scar use exclusively.

“I reported the hikers to the Service,” he says. “They said they’ll check the trailhead later to see if they made it back. I didn’t know their vehicle, of course, but I doubt there’s any others there right now besides mine.”

“Oh, good,” Scar says. 

There’s something brushing the back of Grian’s mind today. Scar just sounds different. “How are you this morning, Thorofare?” Grian asks. “It’s been so long since we did the weather report an hour ago.”

“I’m fine,” Scar says with another sigh, which really isn’t like him at all. 

“You sound bad.”

“Thanks, G-man,” Scar says sarcastically before admitting: “It’s the storm. The weather changes always make everything hurt more.”

“Hurt more?” Grian asks. It’s something he’s heard people complain about, but nothing he’s ever experienced. 

“It makes my joints hurt,” Scar says. “More than usual, I guess.”

“Do you have any pain medicine in your lookout?”

“It doesn’t really help,” Scar says. “Not anymore.”

“Oh,” Grian says. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, I’m used to it,” he says, but the slight edge in his voice is telling Grian that used to it doesn’t mean can’t feel it.

“Why does it hurt?” Grian asks. 

“What do you mean why?” Scar replies. “Like, in general? No clue. Weather changes seem to make it worse. It’s also worse in the winter but I’m not in this tower in the winter so I’ve got a little more control over how I deal with it then. But as for why me, it’s because of old injuries.”

“That sounds awful,” Grian says. “Can I help? I mean, I don’t know how since I’m all the way over here but…if you think of anything.”

“You could talk to me,” Scar says. “It’ll either distract me or overwhelm me but we could try.”

“Okay. Um, what do you want to talk about?”

“Tell me a funny story from England,” he says. 

Grian stops for a moment to think. What’s a good funny story? He probably has many of them, but it’s hard to pick one specific scenario out, so he narrows it down to his university years and immediately remembers a good one. 

“Right,” he says. “I had a lot of friends in university.”

“Showing off?” Scar says. “Mr. Popular?”

“Shush,” Grian says. “I’m telling you a story. A lot of people I knew in college, and even a few from secondary school went to the same university as me so I basically already knew them.”

Grian slowly spins around in his tower, giving the hills near and far a glance over. There’s no smoke to be seen, but he can already tell that big clouds have built on the horizon. They won’t all be storm clouds, but the weather is clearly right for it. He goes back to his story. 

“I had this one group of friends: Timmy, Martyn, and Joel. Most of us were studying different things but we had some overlapping time and liked to hang out after class. Joel had made really close friends with a girl named Lizzie, and we’d ended up spending a lot of time with her too. Anyway, in this story though, we’d gone to the pub without her.”

“I don’t think anything has ever gone wrong at a pub,” Scar says solemnly. 

Grian laughs. “Yeah, alright, we all got super drunk at the pub. It’s 11 pm, we’re all drunk, and Joel announces he wants to confess his love for Lizzie. And this is like, the best idea we’ve ever heard, because Lizzie is super cool, maybe even cooler than Joel is. So we’re like, let’s go now.”

“Oh no…”

“Have no fear, Scar,” Grian says. “I told you it was a fun story.” 

Grian continues. “We leave the pub and decide to go find her flat near campus. We got turned around once or twice because Timmy’s awful at navigation and the one person who actually knew where she lived, Joel, was too busy trying to come up with poetry or something. I don’t know. It was nearly midnight when we finally found her flat, but her light was on so we knew she was home.”

“Did you guys throw rocks at her window?” Scar asks. “Like a modern Romeo and Juliet?”

“I thought about that actually,” Grian says. “But she had a ground floor entrance so Martyn just said we should knock on the door instead. Which was probably a smarter option, honestly.”

“Did she answer?”

“Her roommate did, actually, but she just rolled her eyes and went to go fetch Lizzie. The rest of us stood back while Joel presented her with a gift, which was actually just some small yard ornament he stole off of someone’s front garden a little down the street. I didn’t actually remember that part, Lizzie told it to me. She made him go put it back the next morning.” 

Grian sighs and shakes his head a little, a smile on his face at the memory. They’d been so dumb, but he’d give anything to be back there right now. Back then, he had all his friends–now, they were all either across oceans or in different countries, or both. Or…or they were missing. 

He shakes his head again, this time not at the thought of his previous shenanigans, but to dispel the darker thoughts from his mind before the cloud out the funny memory.

He continues, “When she answered the door, Joel had some great speech planned. Well, I don’t know if it was actually great. I did mention we were all pretty drunk. It sounded good to me, though. He said he was in love with her and she was so smart and so pretty and he wanted to go on a date with her. And then she started laughing, so hard she almost started crying.”

“What?”

“We were all confused too. But then she wiped her tears and said, and I remember these words as clearly as if it was yesterday. She said, ‘Joel, we’ve been dating for three months now.’”

“Wait, really?” Scar says. “They were already dating? Did you just not know or forget?”

“Dude, I don’t think I could have defined what was going on with the two of them if I tried. I'm not convinced Joel knew how to define it either until then.”

“That was a good story,” Scar says. “I gotta know, though! Did it work out?”

Grian grins. “Well, they got married a few years later, so I think it did.”

"Aww! I love a fairytale ending," Scar says. 

"Did you go to university?" Grian asks. "We were all so stupid then. I’m not convinced we’re any less stupid now, we just know how to act like we aren’t."

"Uh, no," Scar says. "I did some work in landscaping though. Before all this."

"I was an architect."

Grian wonders if that career is all but shot. It’s an unexpectedly painful thought to have, but it had been his dream job for so long. He'd only been just done with certification and doing his own clients during the time they'd been in Colorado. He wasn't exceptionally experienced or anything. 

He hadn't left the job on good terms either, with a string of no-shows, subsequent disciplinary actions, and a final letter of resignation wherein he specifically wrote he planned to take this lookout job because "nobody believed in Mumbo but him."

He winces. All his past coworkers probably thought he was insane. Maybe he was.

"Ooh, now that's a fancy job," Scar says.

Grian wants to move on from this discussion, before Scar has a chance to ask why he's here instead of at that fancy job, so he quickly says: "It's your turn for a question now. Ask me anything."

It occurs to Grian after he saysvthis that maybe telling Scar to ask him anything didn't exactly save him from the potential of awkward questions and just opened him up to a wider world of awkward questions. He's already tossed the ball back to Scar though, so now he just has to wait.

Scar is silent on the other end of the line for a while, and when he speaks again there's a more somber quality in his voice.

"What's the worst pain you've ever felt?" he asks.

Yeah, he should have just asked Scar to trade another funny story instead. Because he just…can’t answer this. He sucks in a breath, trying to steady the way his heart rate spiked with just that one question. 

It’s a question that pulls him back into that black hole that threatens to break open his chest everyday. He's circling the event horizon. They should've stuck to funny stories. 

Grian scrambles for a safe answer, one that doesn't involve the marked up topo maps in between the books on his desk–hastily slotted out of view from the earlier hikers–or missing posters. An answer that keeps his head above water for this conversation. 

There’s just, there’s just a certain kind of whiplash from talking about funny experiences with his friends in university –friends who weren’t even Mumbo–and then being reminded of the elephant in the room once again. He carries that pain with him wherever he goes now. 

He isn’t the person he used to be in university in England, or when he was an architect in Denver.

He looks down at the radio in his hand that demands his immediate reply, and his attention flicks to his forearm. 

“I broke my wrist two years ago,” he blurts out. “It’s a funnier story than it sounds, I promise.”

This is a safe memory. It’s even a safe memory of Mumbo, because even though the edges of it are vignetted with pain, the memory still sticks out brightly as something that makes Grian smile. It still hurt, of course. Grian didn’t enjoy breaking his wrist. That wasn’t why it made him smile. 

It’s just that the memory of Mumbo following him around their flat like a puppy for a week apologizing to him sticks out more than the white-hot shock of pain when it happened. It’s Grian calmly navigating them to the ER because Mumbo was the one who was almost too freaked out to drive, something Grian teased him about endlessly. 

“Ouch,” Scar says. “I sure know that feeling.”

“I fell off a bike,” Grian says. “Well, that makes it sound too simple. It was more like I lost control on a steep hill, drove it off trail, crashed, and my poor wrist took the worst of it when I tried to catch my fall.”

“Oh no! Did they do surgery?” Scar asks. 

“No, it healed by itself, fortunately,” Grian says, and decides to tell the rest of the story anyway since it makes him smile. “I’d gotten my roommate a mountain bike as a gift, since he was really interested in that stuff. He loved it–although we actually had to take it back and get another one ‘cause he was too tall for the one I bought, but he said it was the thought that counted. He was so excited to try it that he made me come with him and rent my own bike.”

“Which you then immediately crashed?”

Grian sighs. “Pretty much. You should’ve seen his face, though. I think he was panicking more about it than me. I was like, okay, we’ll just walk back to the car and go to the ER, you can help me walk the bike up this hill. But I thought he was going to pass out!” Grian smiles. “I got a lot of leverage out of that, though, since he’s the one who talked me into it.”

“Oh, I have no trouble believing that,” Scar says. “So no biking for you?”

“No,” Grian says. “I’ll just walk, thank you. Besides, I had to pay for repairing that rental!”

“Mm, more options for hiking trails that way anyway.”

Grian scans the horizon again, eyes lingering on Scar’s lookout just a little longer than necessary. “What’s yours?” he asks. “The worst pain, I mean.”

Scar doesn’t answer for a moment. It’s not a long enough moment to assume he didn’t plan on answering at all, but right after Grian speaks it hits him. He wants to slap himself. “Oh. It’s the old injuries you mentioned earlier. The ones that still hurt right now.”

“Something like that,” Scar replies. 

“What was it?” Grian says. “Can I ask?”

“I was in a really bad car accident a few years ago,” Scar says. He’s miles away but sounds more distant than usual. “It nearly killed me, actually. I broke a lot of bones, spent a lot of time in the hospital, recovered for a long time, you get it.” 

“That’s awful,” Grian says. “I’m really sorry.”

“Well,” Scar says. “It happened, I guess. Nothing you can do about that.”

“For what it’s worth,” Grian says, “I’m glad it didn’t kill you.”

When Scar speaks again, it’s quieter than before. “I don’t know if I always felt the same,” he says. “But I think I do now, these days.” 

Oh. Grian doesn’t even have words to say to that, but he doesn’t need to, because Scar is still holding his radio’s button down. Still on the line, preventing Grian from responding. 

Scar sighs. “Listen, it’s been nice chatting with you G, but I have to go feed Jellie and do a few things before this storm hits, so I gotta let you go.” His voice is brisk now. 

“Um, okay,” Grian responds. “Do you feel any better? Did it distract you?”

“It gave me something else to focus on,” Scar says firmly. “But now I need to go. Talk to you when the storm hits, okay?”

“Okay.”

»»———-　　———-««

The National Weather Service in Riverton has issued a severe thunderstorm warning for Park County in Northwestern Wyoming, Teton County in Northwestern Wyoming, Fremont County in Northwestern Wyoming, Hot Springs County in Northwestern Wyoming until 6:00 PM. 

At 4:26 PM, a severe thunderstorm was located over Yellowstone National Park moving west at 40 miles per hour. Hazard…60 miles per hour wind gusts and quarter sized hail. Impact…Hail damage to vehicles is expected. Expect wind damage to roofs, siding, trees, and/or power lines.

Locations impacted include Yellowstone National Park, Canyon Village, Shoshone National Forest, Wapiti, Cody, Powell, Teton Village, Jackson, Meeteetse, Dubois. For your protection move to an interior room on the lowest floor of a building or get inside a sturdy structure and stay away from windows.

Along with large hail and damaging winds, continuous cloud to ground lightning is occurring with this storm. Move indoors immediately. Lightning is one of nature’s leading killers. Remember, if you can hear thunder, you are close enough to be struck by lightning…

The message ends with a harsh beeping tone, and Grian turns the volume down before it can repeat itself. The message had cut in and out with static the entire time, probably due to the distance and the mountains, even though it was being transmitted from Cody. A moment later, Grian flips the channel from the National Weather Service frequency back to the one he and Scar use, which is surprisingly stable.

Grian steps out onto the deck surrounding his tower. The sky is dark blue to the west, and the tops of the trees are already being picked up by the wind. It’s a little disconcerting, actually, to be way up in the top of the tower. The thick wooden support beams still allow a little bit of sway when the winds are strong enough. 

There’s suddenly a CRASH from rolling thunder, and Grian flinches involuntarily. Right. The radio had just said that if he was close enough to hear thunder, he was close enough to be struck by lightning. Grian decides that he should step inside, instead of standing around outside. 

Although, if he’s being honest with himself, inside doesn’t seem much better either. All this talk about moving to the lowest floor of a building and staying away from windows doesn’t mean much when your only shelter is a four story wooden tower on the highest mountain top around, encased on all sides by windows. 

But that’s the job, isn’t it?

He doesn’t get to take shelter–if there were a place for him to take shelter in the first place–because his job is to watch from this perch. He’s supposed to be noting and locating every lightning strike he possibly can and looking carefully to see if any of them start fires. Lightning causes even more fires than humans, typically. 

He’s been provided a wooden stool with glass feet to use during the storm since both of the materials are not very conductive, but that isn’t really sparking a lot of confidence in him. And there are some lightning rods and other protective grounding measures, but it’s still a little…disconcerting.

Grian’s glad he turned his radio back to its normal frequency, because Scar calls in a moment later. “Here she comes!” he cries. “I know you heard that thunder too.”

“It’s getting so dark,” Grian says. 

The lights aren't on right now–although he doesn't normally need them midday anyway–so the rapidly approaching weather fills the tower with almost palpable shifting gloom. Earlier Grian had switched off the generator at the bottom of the tower and covered it with a tarp in preparation for the storm. 

“This might be an interesting one,” Scar says. “We might see some of the first fires of the season in this area today.”

“That’s what they said this morning when they reported the fire risk. And what the ranger told me after I reported those hikers.”

“Lightning starts most of our fires out here,” Scar says. “They might let it burn if it’s a lightning based fire, but I’m not sure after how bad it was last year. They might want to suppress it to keep the public happy. Generally though, human-caused fires get suppressed but natural ones might be allowed to burn.”

“Yeah, you told me a few weeks ago that the ecosystem needs fire or something.”

“It gets along pretty well by itself without our help,” Scar says. “We just…like to keep the pretty parts to ourselves. Don’t wanna see ‘em get destroyed.”

“I get that,” Grian says. He sighs. “Do you feel any better?”

“Um,” Scar replies. “Not particularly.”

“Oh. I thought you sounded better.”

“Thanks, I’m good at that.”

"You shouldn't have to be good at that."

"I'd never get anything done otherwise," Scar says.

Grian turns to watching the leading edge of the storm roll in. It’s really beautiful up here, on his little perch. The sky is a dark blue-black to the west and clear to the east. The thunderhead is high and lofty. Grian can see the slopes in the distance disappearing in a curtain of rain, the same blue-gray color as the clouds. 

“Keep an eye on that cloud and right around it,” Scar says a few minutes later. “We might lose visibility when it passes over us but it’s close enough now for us to count the lightning strikes.”

Just as Scar speaks, Grian spots the first one in the distance, darting down quickly to the ground and branching as it goes. It’s beautiful too. Grian quickly lines it up in the sight of his firefinder, spinning the circle around until it’s pointing directly at the strike area. He marks down the general area with a pencil on the map in the center of the disc. 

Just after he finishes doing that, thunder claps and it feels like it rattles the whole cabin. Grian decides maybe it’s time for him to stand on the stool, just in case. 

When the storm draws closer, the lightning will probably be too fast to keep up with. Grian’s already having issues finding them in the firefinder before another strikes. For this reason, he has a profile map of the area around his tower too, with the peaks drawn exactly in the way he can see them from the center of his tower. He marks little X’s in pencil on the areas of the slopes the lightning strikes. 

“This storm has a lot of lightning,” Grian says into his radio. “How do you keep up?”

“Just try your best,” Scar says. “The profile map helps. We’re mostly trying to just remember the areas where it struck, so that later we can keep an eye on them for fire.”

“Do you think it’ll cause a fire?” 

As soon as he lets go of the call button, he spies another strike, way off near Scar’s tower to the North. He dutifully marks it down. It dances down from the sky, landing somewhere in the mountains between them.

“We might not be able to tell until after the storm,” Scar says. “And sometimes it’s hard to tell right after because of fog and stuff. You’ll figure out what real smoke looks like soon enough.”

“Doesn’t the rain put these fires out?” Grian asks. 

“Sometimes,” Scar says. “Sometimes they smolder for a while. We might need to keep an extra eye on these lightning strike locations for a few days in the future, which is why we're marking it down."

The thunder continues to rumble all around him, and soon rain starts to fall. They're big fat drops too, and it takes no time at all for the deck outside to be completely covered. They start to hit the windows too, so Grian squints around them as best he can. Sometimes the lightning just flashes all around him, no discernable ground contact in sight. 

"I'm losing visibility," Grian says into the radio.

Scar replies, but the words are lost in the background noise of the rain and the wind and the thunder. 

It's pouring buckets now, and Grian sets down his pencil. He can't see anything but rain now, and maybe the softest outline of the next closest hill, so there’s nothing to report. Experiencing the storm in this little glass cage is unique. It’s chilly, with the wetness and the clouds bringing the chill back into the normally sun-warmed cabin. It’s also very loud–the rain hitting the glass and the wood and the thunder rattling the window frames nearly drown out Grian’s own thoughts. 

Grian shuts his eyes against the sway of the tower in the wind, as if he can keep it grounded by willpower alone. 

The air feels charged and buzzing. Grian’s fingers feel a little tingly, and the hair on his arm starts to stand up with the static. He’s got enough presence of mind to think huh, that’s weird, before–

CRASH!

There’s a horribly loud noise all of a sudden, and Grian flinches so hard he nearly falls off the stool he’s standing on. It’s accompanied by a flash of bright light that he instinctively closes his eyes against. It’s blinding even against his eyelids. When Grian blinks them open and steadies himself, heart beating wildly out of control, everything just looks…normal. The tower is fine, and so are the misty treetops he can see closest to the tower.

It must have been lightning, it had to have been. Maybe not on the tower or in his obscured sightline, but close enough to nearly send Grian to an early grave from a heart attack. He feels horribly shaky now, and it takes him a few tries to firmly depress the button on the side of his radio. 

“S-Scar,” he says. “I think there was just–there was lightning.”

He can barely hear Scar, but he thinks he says, “Did it hit the tower?”

“No–no I don’t think so,” Grian says. “But it had to be close.”

“As long as you’re okay,” comes the muffled reply. 

It isn’t long before the rain begins to taper off. It isn’t long at all, actually–it’s sort of surprising how quickly the worst of it passes, but the storm had been moving quickly according to the weather service. Through the mist of rain, he can once again see the Thorofare Lookout through his northern window. With the visibility restored, he goes back to marking down lightning strikes. His map is full of them now. 

“It seems like it passed,” Grian says, once the rain is just a sprinkle. “What do we do now?”

“For the rest of the day? Probably not much–the ground is really damp. But we’ll keep an eye out on the lightning strike areas for the next few days for smoke. They might send planes to inspect the forest after the storm.”

“Planes…” Grian says. “You know, it’s a wonder they still hire these jobs with all that technology available now. Why don’t they just use planes, helicopters, radars, and satellites?”

“Well, they do,” Scar says. “This is kind of a dying job? But–the difference with us is that we’re here all the time. You and me, we can get more familiar with this area by looking at it everyday than a pilot could from a couple of flybys. They’ll still need us, for a while at least.”

“For a while,” Grian repeats. “Until they replace the jobs with something cheaper.”

Scar laughs. “I’d be shocked if they can find a piece of technology cheaper than my salary,” he says. 

“God, if that isn’t true,” Grian says. “I don’t know how people afford anything. My roommate wants a computer so bad but they’re, like, all a million dollars so we couldn’t get one. He’d be good at it though, he was learning computer-aided design at work. Best in the office!”

“Maybe you’ll get one eventually,” Scar says. “Not on this salary though.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Grian says. “I didn’t choose this job for the money, that’s for sure.”

The sun is breaking out behind the clouds now. Everything looks fresh and shiny and bright, glittering with illuminated raindrops. There’s a steady drip-drip from the lookout tower’s roof. With the strength of the sun, it’ll be no time at all before it’s all dry. The sky is still a deep blue to the west behind the storm, and the golden sunlit trees against the dark sky make a pleasing contrast. 

Everything feels just a little new, a little fresh. He basks in the feeling. 

»»———-　　———-««

It’s 11 AM. The sun is bright and the sky is blue. 

"I see smoke," Grian says. "I know I was wrong last time but I'm not this time."

The smoke is rising, thin and wispy, from a forested section on the southwestern flank of Trout Peak. 

"Confidence, I like that," Scar says. "Go on and give me the reading, then."

The motions are getting familiar now. The firefinder is a disc that sits in the middle of the tower on a small table. The edge of the circle, its arc, is covered in little degree markings. The firefinder is a type of alidade, which is a turning board that allows someone to determine line of sight for triangulating locations. They date back to ancient times–astronomers used a version called an astrolabe for navigation, telling time, and to locate the position of celestial bodies. 

It's fascinating how, when surrounded by emerging technologies, we can turn to the very tools humanity has been using for millennia. 

The disc has two sights opposite to each other: an upper sight with a peep hole and a lower sight with two crosshairs. Grian spins them around the arc until he is in the vicinity of the smoke, and then looks through the upper sight. He marks the degree that the opposite crosshair has landed on around the arc. That’s the azimuth of the fire. The azimuth is the horizontal angle from a cardinal direction–this fire sits northwest of Grian’s tower, and its azimuth is 321°. For a more precise measurement he takes the minutes off of the vernier, another set of markings that rotates around the base of the firefinder. His final reading is 321° 45’.

Then he looks at the map that is permanently fixed to the center of the disc. His lookout tower is situated in the middle. Grian can estimate the distance on the map from a metal tape that stretches across. Given the scale of the map, two miles is represented by an inch–Trout Peak is 5 inches on the map, so it is 10 miles away. 

The upper peep hole has markings that are used to determine the vertical height of the fire, but which ones to use are dependent on if the fire is above or below the lookout. This fire is below Grian’s perch on the mountaintop, so when he looks through the sight to the crosshair on the opposite side of the firefinder, he uses the bottom crosshair. 

It’s measuring -8°, so Grian does a little math. He knows the height of his lookout, he knows the distance of the fire, and now that he knows the vertical angle he can determine how much lower the fire is than him. Once he gets the number he subtracts it from his own elevation. Now he knows the fire is at an elevation of 7,150 feet. 

So to recap: he’s got a fire northwest at 321° 45’, 10 miles away, at 7,150 feet above sea level. 

He relays this information to Scar on the radio. 

“Excellent!” Scar cries. “Here, I can see the fire so I’ll give you my measurements too. Where our azimuths cross will be the exact location. With all of this information, they’ll definitely be able to find the fire.”

Scar already has the numbers ready, indicating he did his own measurements while waiting for Grian to complete his. Scar probably made them faster, too, but Grian’s choosing to be proud of himself instead. This work is a lot more complicated than he expected it to be in the beginning. He writes down Scar’s information on a stray piece of paper nearby. 

“Do you want to make the report?” Scar says. “I mean, you sighted it so it’s yours. It’ll look good for you.”

“Alright,” Grian says, “talk to you in a bit.”

He goes back onto the official channel and reports the fire to the Forest Service. He gives both his and Scar’s measurements, along with a general description of the area and nearby landmarks. He includes information on the probable cause of the fire–lightning from the storm two days ago–and the sort of landscape it is burning in. He gives an approximation of the size of the fire too. It’s a small one. 

They thank him for his report and promise to give updates through the official channel. Scar’s got a second radio tuned to that all the time, so Grian flips his channel back to the one he and Scar use exclusively. 

“I did it,” he says. 

“Good job!” Scar says. “And good eye to notice that smoke.”

“I don’t know if I have good eyes,” Grian chuckles. “I wear glasses, you know. The Forest Service wasn’t very happy with that but I passed the eye test as long as I could wear them so they just made me bring two pairs in case one gets broken.”

“Aw, you have glasses? Are they those big silly ones? I hope they’re those big silly ones, you’d look good in them. So fashionable."

“Scar, you have no idea what I look like.”

“I’m correct though, aren’t I?”

Grian rolls his eyes. “No comment.”

“By the way,” Scar says. “You did good reporting those hikers earlier in the week.”

This snags Grian’s attention immediately. “Did they get lost?” he asks. 

“I don’t think they were lost, but they were definitely unable to get back to their car before the storm hit. A ranger went up the trail after the storm passed and found them part of the way down, soaking wet. He helped them warm up and get back.”

“They must have been cold,” Grian says. “It’s warm out but not warm enough to be caught in a thunderstorm.”

“Oh for sure,” Scar says. “It’s possible they would have made it back fine but it’s also possible that being wet and cold could have slowed them down enough to be in big trouble. It just got colder over the evening and they might not have been able to start a fire with all of the tinder being wet.”

“It’s weird how badly everything can go wrong,” Grian muses. “And how quickly.”

“You did a good thing, though,” Scar says. “You helped someone. That’s what we’re here for.”

“I’m glad they’re safe,” Grian says, and for some reason he has a lump in his throat again. It’s like he can’t get away from it, this pain that rubs against his every movement. He can’t even be happy with a compliment to his work, or proud of himself for spotting a fire, because it always boomerangs right back into despair and self-pitying.

It’s a hole he can’t escape. He helped someone, but he can’t help himself, can’t help Mumbo.

He hopes Mumbo is somewhere warm, right now. 

»»———-　　———-««

There’s nothing but the soft wind in the trees and the crunch of Grian’s boots in the gravel as he steadily climbs the hill to his lookout. The late afternoon light slants on the ground, throwing shadows across his path. But it’s well into summer now, and the sun doesn’t set until 9 PM, so there’s hours of warm light left. 

It’s a little strange that the small cabin feels like home now, but after sleeping in a tent for three nights that’s exactly what it feels like. Grian’s work schedule grants him days off just like any job–sometimes he works 10 days on for 4 days off, like he did this week. Further into fire season, his hours will probably lengthen. 

Most lookouts go into town on their days off for a taste of civilization, but Grian doesn’t. His reasons are twofold. First, he’d rather not sacrifice two days of his break just to hike that difficult trail in and out. 

Second, he’s still not lost sight of his original goal: finding Mumbo. 

He spent most of the last few days searching an area on the edge of his lookout territory called Deer Creek. On paper, it’s a perfect spot–there’s a year-round water supply close by, some sheltered areas between rocky outcroppings and forest, and perhaps even some very old structures from historic homesteads or ranches. 

Of course, he’s coming home once again empty-handed. He saw several hawks, an elk, a fox, and some deer, and no Mumbo. 

As he approaches the tower, the generator is turned off, so Grian goes to turn it on again. The Forest Service had assigned a temporary volunteer lookout to cover his shift while he was gone, but that person had left early this morning in order to get back to the trailhead. They must have turned off the generator before they left to save propane. 

Grian will have to ask Scar if the volunteer was as interesting to talk to as he is. He hasn’t spoken to Scar in several days, in order to save the battery on his radio. His radio’s charger is plugged in at the tower, although he has extra batteries for emergencies. 

The first thing Grian notices when he walks up to the base of the tower is that there’s an object leaned against the stairs. It’s a bicycle of some sort. He first wonders if it’s something the volunteer lookout left behind, but that doesn’t make any sense. It’s too perfectly placed for him to find it. 

It’s too…familiar?

It’s a bicycle of some sort, except that when Grian really looks at it for the first time he freezes, because it’s the sort of bicycle that Grian recognizes instantly.  Grian stops in his tracks, and suddenly his heartbeat is loud in his ears. His eyes dart all over the bike, taking in every tiny detail. 

It’s painted in what was once bright green and yellow, but the color is faded from the sun and rusty from exposure. There’s scratches on it, and the chain looks clearly messed up. 

It’s a lot worse for wear than the day Grian bought it, but he’d never forget what it looked like. He’s been looking for it for a year now. 

Why is Mumbo’s mountain bike leaned against the Two Forks tower staircase?

<< Chapter Two | Masterpost | Chapter Four >>

#hermitcraft #grian #goodtimeswithscar #gtwscar #hermitcraft fanfic #quara fanfic #hc_firewatch_au

[dayeongi]

I have her by the throat

by @dayeongi

I have her by the throat, that little girl. She wants to get away from me, but my nails dig deeper. She is only six, or five.

She does not know. She does not remember. But she wants to get away from me. There is nowhere for her to go. There are no stars in the vaulted sky that looms over us, only stone-cold loneliness.

This feeling she’s getting for the first time tells her she belongs nowhere and to nobody. That she is never safe. She’s so certain she’s going to die tonight; that I’m going to draw blood. That tonight, as the cold air seeps through the window, I will destroy her.

But no. She will survive. So long as she doesn’t try to leave me.

My hand is comfortably tight around her throat. She must be eight now, that little girl. No sunshine or ocean or stars are enough to banish, nor vanish me. She’s so certain she’s going to die today, it’s spring or summer. Never-ending; evergreen me, but always cold. Always lurking in the back of her head. I remind her what she already knows. That she belongs nowhere. That she is never safe. I want to draw blood for the first time, but for once, I’m her refuge.

“Sometimes they are nice to me,” she says. But she knows she is a bad child. She knows that when things happen to her, everyone just looks but says nothing. She is not obedient enough. Facts are excuses in her mouth. Looking away at the wrong time, and even making eye contact are all wrong.

She should pluck her eyes and tongue. Then she will never do anything wrong, and she will finally be happy and loved. She will belong somewhere and to someone.

I can do it. I have the strength. When she cries in our room, I tell her: “Let me become a cancer and destroy you, and me along with you. Let us take on the pain of the world; steal an unlucky sod’s terrible fate. So many things happen to good people, and you are not one of them.”

She cries, but she agrees. I am right, but not almighty. The destruction will need to be gradual.

“Bruce Almighty”, the movie is fun. Sometimes she has fun. But it all has a price. It is all twisted, the strings attached to the good times are all tangled. They are choking her, me along with them. Princesses, fairies, mermaids. She is the only one who likes them now it’s not cool anymore. Because if she’s still a little girl, then what happened to her is not her fault. She would be too innocent for that. No man would dare touch a little innocent girl, would they? But she is foolish. She is not a little girl. She hasn’t been for three, roughly four years. She is sixteen now.

Everyone’s eyes are on her. They do not notice me because I’ve hidden in the corner of her smile, and for a year I stay there, souring every joke, kicking every tone of her voice out of tune. Everything is off, off, off. For once, she’s happy. She’s in love. At seventeen, that’s what love feels like. Someone who makes you feel at home. But she has no home. She belongs to no one, and nowhere. For once, she lets me draw blood, because everything is off, off, off. And everyone’s eyes are on her and they will know that she dared to love, and they will call the wolves and they will eat her alive.

Ugly thing.

By comparison, my sweet embrace is much more comforting, like falling asleep.

I am not almighty. The destruction needs to be gradual.

There is no escape for her now. I have her by the throat, and the only would-be’s she could dream of are now gone. They have been gone for two years, decaying in a mass grave where her mother’s body lay. I grab her so tight, she throws up for the first time, but not the last. No one is alive anymore that wants her.

She will never be safe.

It is a precarious dance, ours. The moon is lonely for company, and she just exists, me attached to her by the throat, where the last of her songs died. It is a complicated relationship, but she loves me, who will always take from her, who will never hesitate to rip away even what she doesn’t want.

I am one who lurks by the graveyards, always present, never letting go, and always suggesting opportunities to finish the job. I will not let her go, even if I wanted to, because she’s so attached to me, the darkness in her pupils; the only depth to them she can call forth.

I have been her oldest companion and the one who has never left her, even if I do choke her so much.

Now, isn’t that frightening?

But I am not almighty. The destruction needs to be gradual. It may last for as long as she outruns me. She will never be safe.

#dayeongi writes #just a lil spooky something for spooky season #cw child abuse mention #cw csa mention #cw ed mention

[reggiepeters-love-bot]

Welcome to Spirit! pt 1/?

Julie loves her job at Spirit Halloween. That’s why she keeps coming back. However, this year’s staff is... interesting to say the least.

It’s a particularly slow evening, being that it’s a Wednesday and still about four weeks until Halloween. Julie’s slumped over the counter while Alex, her assistant manager, is checking today’s sales on the computer. They already finished putting away the shipment they received yesterday, so Reggie is breaking down boxes, and Luke is slowly wandering around the store pretending to be making sure everyone looks nice and neat.

“Ugh! I still have two hours left,” cries Julie when she takes notice of the time on the clock, feeling like she’s been here forever (it’s been three hours, but they’ve only had about four customers all day).

“You’re doing great today, Julie. Keep it up,” encourages Alex in the way that all the managers do, even if she’s done nothing spectacular that day. “Have you taken a break today?”

“Yeah.”

“I haven’t,” calls Luke from where he’s meaninglessly moving the children’s anime weapons around.

“You don’t work enough to get one today. And even if you did, you were late,” says Alex with a shrug.

“Ha, sucks for you,” Reggie laughs as he’s returning the boxcutter to the drawer in the counter.

Julie moves from her place behind the counter towards the vampire and witch costumes, always liking to admire the accessories there and do some personal shopping.

Beep. Julie hears her walkie-talkie clipped to her apron pocket go off, but no one says anything.

Beep Beep. She quickly turns her head to look across the store and sees Luke attempting to hide a smile while moving around mugs.

Another beep is heard, this time from -- presumably – Reggie, because Julie doesn’t see Luke’s hands move. She chuckles to herself before adding her own double beep to the strange game Luke has started.

“You guys are dumb,” Alex says while chuckling to himself then contributing a beepbeepbeep of his own. The rest all laugh at the fact that they got their manager to join in on their antics. 

They exchange rapid beeps for the next minute until Julie notices someone walking towards the front door and signals for them to stop with her hand mock-slicing her neck. She then turns to front the merchandise to look like she’s actually working to the customer.

“Hi, welcome to Spirit,” Julie greets with her best customer service voice once the man walks in, causing Luke and Reggie to giggle at how ridiculous she sounds. 

“Reggie, can you take out the trash? Then you can take your 10 if you want,” says Alex.

Reggie salutes him and then moves to pick up the trash bag behind the counter. 

The man is looking around the store, and Julie is waiting at her register for whenever he’s ready to checkout while “Youngblood” by 5SOS plays over the shitty speakers. Julie’s tapping a pen to the beat of it when Luke walks over to her.

“So, what’s your favorite scary movie?” he asks.

“What is this, Scream?”

Luke shrugs. “I’ve never seen that, so I don’t know.”

“You’ve never seen Scream?” Julie asks, appalled at Luke’s lack of quality movie taste.

“I know it’s corny as hell.”

“That’s the whole point. It’s a parody of classic horror movies.”

“Sounds dumb. I like Friday the 13th. How ‘bout you?”

“If anything’s dumb, it’s Friday the 13th. I mean, Jason’s not even in the first one. How does that work?”

“Ok, so what do you like then?”

“Well, as far as classics, I love The Exorcist. But my favorite Halloween movie is Hocus Pocus even though it’s not a horror movie,” Julie explains very thoughtfully.

“Fair enough. Well, if we’re talking children’s Halloween movies, the answer’s always gonna be The Nightmare Before Christmas,” Luke responds with a nod.

Julie rolls her eyes. “Yeah, you would say that.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Luke asks with a slightly offended look and a dramatic hand on his chest.

“Luke, go take your 10,” calls Alex.

“This isn’t done,” Luke says firmly, pointing at Julie as she lightly giggles while he walks towards the break room (which was just the dressing rooms of the previous store with a curtain in the entry).

Julie faces forward again. “Find everything okay?”

#julie and the phantoms #julie and the phantoms fanfic #jatp fanfic #jatp au #workplace au #alive au #semi beta read #work antics #spirit halloween au #julie molina #luke patterson #alex mercer #reggie peters #jatp

[loverrrgirl]

KISMET- Austin Butler x reader- PART 9

Warnings: this will be getting spicy here soon. We’re setting up for it. Stay tuned. Minors, don’t get comfy. You’re safe for now but not forever in this story.

I’ve never done this before so leave me comments but be nice I’m soft

Here’s a master list

Love uuuuuuuu

I have to take the time to set up everything properly so there’s a couple slower parts but I promise it’ll be worth itttttttttt.

I'd been at the hospital for three days now. Both dad and Jude were more awake, more aware of what was going on. We laughed together, we cried together, and ultimately we all just felt very thankful to be able to hold each other in these last few days. This accident could have made our lives so much different than it already feels.

I alternated nights between dad and Jude's rooms. Mom took the opposite shifts. One of the nights, Jude and I stayed up extra late, just catching up. He was having a really good day. We settled in to go to sleep, so I turned out the light.

"Hey Jude? Are you still awake?" I asked.

"Yeah, why?" He replied.

"Tell me if you don't want to talk about it. But do you remember what happened?" I asked quietly, hesitantly. I wasn't sure if I should ask. But I really just wanted to know how something like this could have happened to them.

"I don't remember a lot of it. Most of it even. I just remember that we were driving in the middle of nowhere. Mom said she's been in contact with the police department. The guy was intoxicated. But I don't remember how it happened. I briefly remember being in the helicopter. And then I remember eventually waking up here. It's still really fuzzy." He said. It seemed like he was thinking really hard. Maybe this was too much too soon.

"Jesus. I'm sorry this even happened and that I couldn't get here any sooner. I wish I never moved away." I said, with tears in my eyes. I hated seeing him like this. My not so little, little brother. He was taller than me by an entire foot at least.

"No, El. You're following your dreams. I'm happy you're in New York. That's where you should be. Dad and I are fine." Jude said, but I could tell he was drifting off to sleep.

"Goodnight little brother, I love you." I whispered to him and by that time, he was already out. I followed not too long after.

The next morning I woke up earlier than anyone else. I went to the cafe and got some coffee and a bowl of fruit. I was trying not to eat the coffee cake every day but it made me smile every time I did. As much as I was trying to forget about Austin, everything was making me think of him. And it still made me feel guilty. The only thing I should have been thinking about was my dad and my brother.

I decided I'd Uber back to our house today. I didn't take my car to New York with me and I was letting Jude use it to drive to and from school. My plan was to go home, get cleaned up and settled in, and drive my car back to the hospital this afternoon. So ordered my Uber and went down to the front to wait for them.

Austin's Point of View

It had been four days now. And she hadn't called or texted. Either she didn't find the note or she simply didn't want to continue talking to me. I could handle that I suppose. I could have sworn she felt it too. Whatever I was feeling.

It had been a nice few days. I went to Ashley's house and caught up with them. It was nice having a best friend near home. She was always a staple and a constant in my life. I went to my favorite beach simply because Stella and I had talked about. I walked the shore for over an hour going back and forth on whether or not I should just drive to the hospital to give her back this god damn sweater. Was it inappropriate to show up uninvited to their situation? Yes. Yes it was. I didn't want to intrude. She seemed to have made clear that she didn't want to continue talking. But on the off chance she didn't find the note and she was missing her sweater, I had to try. Maybe not. I wasn't sure. I also hung out with my dad and my sister. I loved being home. I visited my mom. I told her about the sweater. And I smiled thinking about what she would have said to me if she were still here. "GO GET THE GIRL AUS!!" She would have said. Or maybe she would have told me to wait it out a little longer. It was just a sweater after all. But she's so damn cute in it.

I went for a hike earlier this morning to take some pictures, read, clear my head. I guess I thought it would help make it more clear to me. Why couldn't I stop thinking about her? And in my walk, it was clear to me. If I couldn't stop thinking about her now, I never would. And I wanted to see her again. I needed to see her again.

I got off the couch, walked up the stairs, grabbed her sweater out of my suit case and rushed to my car.

"Where ya going Aus?" I heard my dad yell from the dining room.

"Out! I'll be back in a bit!" I yelled back on my way out the door.

I got in my car and checked the map to see how bad traffic was. And wouldn't you guess it. LA traffic never stops and 3:27 pm was prime time. It was going to take me just over an hour to get there.

An hour. I can do this. What am I going to say to her? I wonder if she did even one thing for herself on her birthday. How old did she even turn? I want to know everything about her.

I turned on the music just loud enough for me to hear noise but not so loud that I couldn't think. I had to think about logistics. They were in ICU. Were they still there? I didn't even know her last name.

The drive went way faster than I was expecting. I thought it would feel long but all of a sudden I was pulling right back in to the hospital parking lot where I said goodbye to Stella just four days ago. And somehow it felt like a lifetime ago.

Just go inside. The worst they'll tell you is no. And then at least you tried.

As I was exiting my car, I took the sweater and tucked it into my leather jacket to keep it protected from the light drizzle outside. I walked confidently as I went up to ICU.

"Hi sir, how can I help you?" I heard as I almost completely walked past the front desk.

"Hi, I'm here to see Jude. He and his dad are here." I said, giving the red haired, blue eyed nurse a nod in greeting.

"They transferred units. They're up on floor 8 now." She told me. Ding ding ding. We're getting closer.

I can't believe that worked.

As the elevator opened on floor 8, I began to feel flush. Nervous suddenly. I wasn't sure if this was the right choice anymore. To intrude like this.

You're already here Austin. Go get her.

I walked to the front desk and asked what room Jude is in.  I only knew his and Stella's names and i had a strong feeling this wasn't going to work.

"Last name?" The nurse asked. Staring up at me through glasses that teased to fall off the tip of her nose.

"I'm here to see his sister Stella actually, I just thought she'd be in Jude's room, or her dads." I said nervously.

"Hang on just a minute sir" she said to me as she stood up and walked back to the hallway of rooms.

She re-emerged with a woman. She must have been Stella's mom. I could tell. They both had similar colored green eyes, but Stella's had flecks of blue and gold in them. Her mom's had flecks of brown.

"Hi honey. Who are you?" She questioned as she held her hand out to shake mine.

"My name's Austin. I'm sorry to just show up here like this. I was hoping to catch Stella if she had a moment."  I replied, shaking her hand while hoping she couldn't tell I was shaking.

"Hi Austin. I'm Stella's mother, Lynne. Nice to meet ya. Stella went home to get settled in. She said she'd be back later. Can I take a message?"

Dammit.

"Do you mind if I try back tomorrow?" I asked, with my head slightly tilted down, eyes looking at her. I need her to say yes. I was so close.

"Sure honey. No problem." She said as she turned around to go back to the room.

"Excuse me Lynne? Thank you. And I'm uh- I'm really sorry to hear about the accident." I said genuinely. I wished they didn't have to experience the pain of seeing your family hurting and hooked up to machines.

"Thank you honey. We appreciate it." She said with a reassuring smile. And turned back again to walk towards the rooms.

Defeated, I headed back to the elevator.

I'll be back tomorrow then.

#austin butler #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler fluff #austin butler smut #austin butler x reader #austin butler elvis #angst with a happy ending

[acollectionofficsandshit]

I feel like I owe my therapist a preemptive apology for how I’m going to act in my appointment later on today because it’s not even noon and I’ve already cried four times??? And I don’t even know why I was crying three of the four times???

[ajoytobeheld]

Mega, depressive, all tomorrow's party post

May 8th, 2009

Today, we should be at ATP. BY RIGHTS!! The next three days promise to be a stream of torturous reminders that we’re not.

So, to celebrate the fact that I’m gonna be miserable this weekend while my friends tweet and facebook and blog about how they’re having an incredible time, as I sit LONELY at msn, ABANDONED, here are some stream of consciousness, non-proof read reminisces about the four ATPs that myself and other members of LC! have attended. Plenty of name-dropping because I’m depressed, alright?

MAY 2006 The United Sounds Of ATP. Our first ATP. Phil Elverum with Herman Dune as backing band. Neil and Tom paid for tickets. I got the other…five of our pals “press passes” due to me being a BIG PLAYER in student media at the time. We slept the seven of us in and around a single double bed. John slept with his head in a bin and wore a dress for the weekend, got recognised by Huw Stephens while hitching up his skirt in the . Tom and Neil got their picture taken with Bill Callahan. Immediately accidentally deleted it. Cried. Beth Ditto called me “the cutest thing I’ve ever seen”. Met a really awesome girl, wrote a song about it. Did a conga line whilst watching the Shins. Shared a chalet with a Sheffield Wednesday fan, he was very tall. Two litre bottles of Strongbow. Vodka and slush puppies. Might have met Josie Long. Dancing with Sleater-Kinney to ‘Hot Topic’ by Le Tigre, WHILST WEARING a Bikini Kill t-shirt. 33 at 45. Mascis playing guitar with BSS, and forgetting to mute his pedals whilst tuning up, LOL. Absolutely OWNING the dancefllor for the entire weekend.I kind of peaked here. Pretty certain this was the happiest weekend of my life.

MAY 2007 ATP VS THE FANS The moment, watching Architecture In Helsinki, that, all at once, about 25 blokes in the crowd noticed a bit of one of their songs sounded like the BBC Cricket coverage theme tune, massive grins. Starting the weekend off with The Thermals, meeting loads of people off Drowned In Sound in the front row. Somebody told me Daniel Johnston had missed his flight. I drunkenly announced it to loads of people. Daniel Johnston hadn’t missed his flight. I’m still very sorry. The Notwist being amazing. Got a verse out of this one too. Yoni Wolf and Dose One performing part of Physics Of A Unicycle together. Incredible. Missed Shellac because we watched the frankly FUCKING AWFUL Chelsea v Utd FA Cup final. Asked to do a Los Campesinos! v Mogwai 5-a-side football match. Too scared.

CAN’T FIND ANY PHOTOGRAPHIC EVIDENCE OF THIS ONE!!

MAY 2008 ATP VS PITCHFORK We played this one. Esiotrot/4 or 5 Magicians/Los Campesinos! 5-a-side. Lot of fun. Maybe shouldn’t go to ATP with a girlfriend, makes it a bit rubbisher. Also, don’t jump off the drum kit during your set and sprain your ankle and subsequently have to spend the rest of the weekend on crutches. Except, ATP only had one pair of crutches, and somebody had already taken. In extreme pain for the rest of the weekend. But playing was probably the proudest I’ve ever been. I CROWDSURFED!! Last day of the Premiership season, United win it at Wigan. Found a disposable barbecue with a human turd on it. Times New Viking dedicating a song to us, and hanging out with them all weekend, gettin’ waaaaaaasted man. Saw the guy, who had the crutches, CARRYING THEM, WALKING FINE!!! BASTARD!! Was offered a Zimmer frame.

DECEMBER 2008 NIGHTMARE BEFORE CHRISTMAS: MIKE PATTON/THE MELVINS Didn’t go until Saturday afternoon, because I had a football match Saturday morning. Watched about 3 bands. All very good, thank you very much. Watched about 5 football matches. Everton v Aston Villa was a hell of a game. United beat Fulham. Kept asking for beers with the stress on the wrong cyllables, hilarious. Got drunk and tried to go swimming. It was closed. Got tricked at ‘gay chicken’. Lots of Dance Dance Revolution. Me and Gui started our new band KrabIsland (news on that, never). I could be Teenage Jesus’ drummer.

I’ve been reasonably restrained here. Might add some more in a bit. We’ll be lucky if I don’t bust out crying…

No apologies made.

#2009 #gareth!blog #lc!blog #lc!image

[oh-surprise-its-me]

So, we know how Ron and Chris both react to each other getting hurt. But in the first years they've known each other, Chris has never seen Ron becoming truly ill, not like Tom did. So when it happens, Chris has no idea what to do, Ron is not weak, in any way, and yet he looks so weak now, so chros does the only logical thing. He calls Tom, because tom would know what to do. He would,right?Tom knows him for longer, he must have seen him that sick before. (No, he doesn't, tom only saw him like that once, after ron spent a week living outside)

God Chris would panic so much because how does Tom not know how to fix it. He always knows how to fix Ron.

-

He gets a fever so fast Chris doesn’t notice at first because he looks fine. Sure Ron’s been a little quiet and sneezing a lot today. But when he touches him he’s a bit warm. “Baby you okay?” Ron smiles at him. He looks normal enough, none of Chris’s warning signs go off. “Yep gonna lay down for a bit, feel tired.”

Chris smiles as Ron kisses his head on the way by.

He works on papers for a while until he wanders into the bedroom. Ron is lightly pink. Chris touches his forehead. Christ he’s boiling.

He dodges out and calls off work for two days including the days off he already had ahead, he’s got four days to make Ron better.

He comes running back to the bedroom. He dips cloths into cooler water and tries to bring his temperature down. Ron whines at it and weakly brushes at the towel.

Chris digs around in their cabinets for cold meds that Ron got him last time he was sick.

He finds them and sets them next to Ron’s head. He stands there and thinks for a second. He’s terrified.

Tom.

He grabs the phone and calls, he’s tapping his foot, he can’t believe this made Ron so weak. Ron who likes to pick him up for fun and just carry him.

Ron who can pick Tom up without any real effort and spin him around.

Ron who two days ago was laughing and dancing with Chris.

“Hello?” “Tom what do you do when Ron’s really sick, like fever sick?”

There’s silence for a second. A shaky voice comes back on the line. “I don’t know.” Chis freezes. “You don’t know??”

Tom let’s out a biter laugh. “No I don’t. He was never sick when he lived with us. I know he was sick a lot as a kid, that first week he lived with us he was getting over being really sick from living outside. He had a cough that lasted a while but that’s the worst I’ve seen.”

Chris nods. “Fuck okay. Thanks. I’ll wing it. Love you.” “Love you too Chris, you need my help?”

Chris thinks about it for a second. “If this lasts longer then four days yeah. I’ll call you. Bye Tom.”

-

It’s three days later when the fever breaks. Chris cries.

He thought he was going to have to call an ambulance. He was terrified. Ron opens his eyes, “hey baby.” Chris shakes and takes his hand. “You’re not allowed to do that again. Jesus. Tommy didn’t even know how to fix you.”

Ron coughs. “He’s never seen me like this.” Ron reaches up and wipes the tears off of Chris’s face.

“He’s going to because he’s going to stay with us until you’re better.”

Ron groans. “Please no you guys will kill me.” Chris squeezes his hand, “the fever almost did that honey.”

Ron winces. “Never mind Tommy is welcome to come and stay. Sorry.”

—

Three days later Ron is officially allowed to move on to the couch. He’s leaned against Chris’s chest, Tom’s head is in his lap. He leans back and kisses Chris’s cheek. “Sorry I scared you both so much.”

Tom pinches Ron’s thigh. “Not your fault.” Chris nods. “Agreed but next time maybe tell me if you’re getting a fever so you can take the meds while still fighting it.” 

“Deal.”

#ron slider kerner #chris seresin #ron slider kerner x chris seresin #slider x original male character #tom iceman kazansky #they all really love each other #this is like 1984 in my head #love them so much oh my goddd #mac writes top gun

[ecoamerica]

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#ACLA24 #ACLA24Leaders #youtube #youtube video #climate leaders #climate solutions #climate action #climate and environment #climate #climate change #climate and health #climate blog #climate justice #climate news #weather and climate #environmental news #environment #environmental awareness #environment and health #environmental #environmental issues #environmental justice #environment protection #environmental health #Youtube

[coredrill]

reading my like. fifth gridman universe summary and whoever wrote this is describing everything in the most out of pocket fashion like 😩 spoilers under the cut ofc

src

starting off strong RIGHT outta the gate with

LMAO????? I WAS RIGHT ABOUT THE TRAILER BEING STRAIGHTBAITING I JUST HAD THE WRONG FUCKIN CHARACTER!!! like i realize there’s some uh. artistic liberties goin on here with the phrasing HOWEVER until i see the film for myself i am choosing to live in the universe where all four of gridman’s MCs are canon bi 😌 move the fuck over gridman, this is ssss.bisexuality now

CRYING AT THIS. POOR LITTLE MEOW MEOW………..WAS THIS WHY HE EATS LIVE CRABS FROM THE RIVERBED. FUCKED UP IF TRUE. I LOVE HIM

valid, this happens to me too whenever i go for a run

💀💀.

obsessed w the implication that “two humans get inside a very large human-appearing being” does not need an explanation but “kaiju that was already Special gets a new form” does

i see you amemiya . also don’t wanna count my chickens before they hatch but this seems like such a nice arc for rikka? like i’ll have to actually see the film to be certain but it’s nice that she’s able to acknowledge what akane means to her, still want to be with akane, make the decision that her grief over akane isn’t more important than akane’s real happiness, honor what she had with akane on her own terms, AND THEN move on and accept yuuta’s confession. again i might be calling the shots too early but it seems like a nuanced and mature way to do “bisexual character ends up with character of opposite gender” without making it a “gay phase” or “oh they were REALLY just straight all along” (or at least better than honoka kzn or mitsuru frnxx 🥴) like it’s nice that she tells yuuta it’s good he waited so long to confess so that she could actually develop interest in him AND grapple w akane. i like that.

ALSO. I JUST WANTED TO SAY. I WAS RIGHT LMAO I CALLED IT THE THIRD THING WASN’T RECEIPTS BUT

TWO MONTHS AGO……………….I UNDERSTAND GAUMA WITH MY SOUL

and last but not least, a rite of passage

also unrelated but goddamn today has been “i knew i loved gauma but i didn’t know i loved him THAT MUCH” day 😭😭😭 i’ve cried over his neon genesis suit three separate times and i literally am looking forward to seeing this movie so much?? like!!!! i picked him as my fav before i even saw the show cause i fucking LOVEEEE his design so goddamn much and then he was a goofball mecha pilot and it was all well and good AND FUCKING THEN. he goes and finds some wayward people and loves them so goddamn hard in his own bizarre way and it challenges them all to grow and change and be better and it SCARS them too but they embrace it because they love him right back and then at the end he straight up says that it’s okay that he never found his princess, that he still loves her but now he has the dyna crew and they’re good enough on that same level and HAHXHCNFNCNMCJCJDJSJXJDN. unsurprisingly i am devouring an admission of platonic love equivalent to romantic love, who’d have guessed!!!! and i’ve just been so so happy that i get to see more of him in the future, even in his rex form, and i’ve felt so GOOD all day because i have that to look forward to 😭😭😭 sorry for being too sincere abt this but I AM FEELING THINGS ABOUT MEDIA and holy fucking shit i am so happy that gauma exists 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

#a: gridman universe #t.txt

[taylorseyelashes]

I’ve had such a shit birthday. My three closest friends all forgot, and i didn’t bother reminding them. Everyone at work forgot too. My dad woke up in a bad mood, and I was just so emotional all day because everyone forgot and I just felt so lonely.

Then today, we went out for a meal, and I’m autistic so I’m a very very picky eater. My mum forgot to ask for my food plain so I started crying, then the garlic bread came with cheese on it (which we didn’t ask for), so I started crying again. And now I’ve gone to get my chocolate orange that I left downstairs and someone’s eaten it.

I don’t know why I’m so emotional atm but any small thing is pissing me off. Cried like four times already today, i don’t actually think I can have a good birthday, they get ruined every year.

#personal

[ketso]

Episode 23

Keith and I are in Tholoana Kingdom. Senzi’s biological father is doing some sort of ritual for Senzi today. Senzi will be accepting the Maphumulo surname and divorcing the Twala surname. That’s how Wandi explained it to us. This has been quite the time for Wandi and Senzi. But Wandi says that since Senzi’s biological father extended the olive branch to him, he has been a lot more at peace. And I’m happy for him. He needs this and he deserves peace.

We left Risuna with my mother. He cried when he left and that made Keith feel some type of way. But we can’t bring Risuna to these kinds of things. I’ve come here to support the Maphumulo family and help where I can. Risuna would have people thinking ke phuthile matsoho instead of helping out in the house. Maybe when he is a little bit older like Morafe’s kids, I’d be able to take him everywhere because he’d see other kids and just play. But right now, all he wants is Keith and me. And we will both be busy.

We phoned my mom thirty minutes into our drive to Tholoana Kingdom from Sebokeng. She told me that Risuna stopped crying five minutes after we left. He’s now chilling and being busy in his playpen. Keith was relieved. We also know that when Risuna is with my mom, Keith’s mom can pop in and see him any time because she’s right next door. Risuna is very aware of both his grandmothers, and I actually think that it’s beautiful.

We arrive at the location that Wandi sent us at about 9am. Apparently this mansion that we see before us is where Senzi’s biological father lives with his wife and other kids. Lady Laura doesn’t play hey. Have everything or she doesn’t want you at all. Yoh!

Keith and I get out of the car and make our way inside. Morafe finds us first. She and I hug and are super excited to see each other. Someone comes to take Keith. He introduces himself as Reahile. We both say that we are happy to meet him then he and Keith disappear. Morafe and I make our way into the house. Keith finds someone to help him offload all the things my mom made for us to bring with us: four buckets of ginger beer (i.e. gemere) six buckets of baked biscuits and scones, and three containers of amagwinya.

I get into the kitchen and I’m introduced to so many people. Wandi’s mom hugs me as well. When she sees the stuff that we brought coming into the kitchen, she asks me why my mom didn’t come with us.

“She’s looking after Risuna for us”, I tell her.

The guys are already digging into the amagwinya and gemere.

“Heh bathung!” A lady named Letlali says.

Apparently, people haven’t eaten. We are waiting for the rituals to be completed.

“Mah, we are hungry. We’ve been here since 5am. Aowa”, a guy named Mnqobi says. Apparently, it’s her son.

No but these men just finished a whole container. Then older men come - apparently husbands to the women in here. They box the second container… and the third. The wives complained then eventually let them be. When they left with amagwinya and two buckets of gemere, we women helped ourselves to baked scones and biscuits and gemere as well. Mama is definitely the MVP of the morning.

Now people are in their squads. I’m chilling with Morafe.

“Where are the kiddies?” I ask her.

“With my sister. I didn’t want to wake them up too early. Thabang will arrive with them around lunch time”. She says.

“Hai bo! Madam! Wena leThabang?”

She’s been keeping us updated on the WhatsApp group. These two…

“He’s really great with my kids watsiba”, she says.

“And he’s great with you too”, I say.

“He is. I just don’t know if I’m ready. But I might just be forced to marry him”, she says.

“What do you mean?” I ask her.

“Eish chomi. I’ll tell you and Wandi together a bit later on. Is Lady Laura coming?” She asks me.

As the receptionist, I know and hear everything. I’m just professional about it so you’d never know that I know stuff.

“She wanted to shame. Apparently, Wandi’s mom encouraged her to come here and support her son. I mean, Senzi is her son. Yoh, bishop a re nix! He basically said that Lady Laura and Senzi have embarrassed him enough. If she attends this, they are done. She’s not here, so I guess she… you know…”

“Ke sono watsiba. Senzi wabathu.”

“Eish wena”.

Senzi, Wandi and the Maphumulo family finally step into the kitchen where the women are. We hear ululating. We see by their smiles that it’s all peaches and cream. Plus, it’s raining and apparently that’s all related to luck for the ceremony.

We greet Wandi and Senzi. Then we get to meet Senzi’s father, his two brothers - Ntuthuko and Akwande - as well his very nice stepmother, Mme Refiloe. Everyone here calls her Fifi.

This rain is now pouring. Then Wandi has been tasked with washing animal insides. So Morafe and I are helping her. But we are being poured on. Morafe’s phone rings mid our chatter and laughter.

“Thabang”, she answers her phone.

…

“I’m worried about the rain, watsiba”.

…

“Okay. There are some kids here. It’s just… ke bana. They’ll want to play in the rain.”

…

“Okay cool. Ke tla le bona when you get here”.

…

“Shup”.

She hangs up.

Wandi and I both look at her.

“He was asking if he should still bring the kids with the rain and all”, she says.

“You said you might need to marry him. Why?” I ask.

“What?!” Wandi.

Morafe seems a bit down.

“Bryan found me.” She says.

“WHAT?!” Wandi and I both say.

“Yeah. He kept trying to break into our house. Then I asked Thabang to just look after the house while I went home with the kids. Thabang found him. He was taken to a prison and I had to go identify him because he came into the kingdom with a fake ID”, she says.

“Bathung wena!” Me.

“So, when I identified him, the government dealt with him. The next thing, his family comes to my mom’s house and states that now that Bryan is dead, I have to marry his brother so the kids can still be raised in their family. And they want me to go back to Zim with them.”

“MORAFE!” Wandi and I say.

“I obviously said no. I’m not going to Zim and I want nothing to do with that family. Then they said they’d take Tshenolo and Mosetsana because they are their children. My mom told them where to get off because Bryan didn’t even bring a chicken to acknowledge those kids. Those kids are Letuka kids and that’s that. They said they’d fight us. Legally, in Tholoana Kingdom, they can’t touch us. We are protected. Thabang suggested that we get married. If we get married, he will acknowledge my kids and they’ll have his surname. Then he has recourse to actually protect us and fight that family for us.” She says.

“So, what’s your reservation about marrying him?” Wandi.

“He’s married. To two women.” Morafe.

“If you don’t love him, why do you care?” Me.

“I’m worried about how my kids would be received in his family.” Morafe.

“What is he saying about that?” I ask her.

“He says I have nothing to worry about. I just can’t help but worry.” Morafe.

“I say go for it. One, I think you really like him more than you are letting on. Two, you and the kids will have a senatla who has your back. And three, clearly with his influence and position in this country, you’ll be more than untouchable. And four, you’ll get some on a regular basis without the abuse.” Me.

We look at each other. We burst into laughter.

“I’m with Bassie on this one”, Wandi.

Morafe just laughs.

“Ladies”, Mme Refiloe says. I think she came to check on us.

“Hi mme.” we say.

“Nama ishup?” She asks us.

We are actually done washing it. She inspects it then she takes it to go and start cooking it. Then she gives us tasks in the kitchen, the biggest one being that we must mingle with the other girls that are here.

We don’t mind. And we would have done so eventually. We just needed to catch up as well. We haven’t been together like this in a very long time.

…

It’s about 6pm now and we see our women walking towards us with food. Yoh, we are super grateful. We’ve been working in the rain all day surviving on biscuits and scones. We are super exhausted. We actually look around us to see if there are vacant chairs where our women will sit. Negative. But no one is prepared to stand up and get more chairs. These women get here and just sit on top of us, holding plates for us to eat. It seems like they’ve already eaten. Okay… this also works.

“Keith, how are you?” Wandi greets me.

I greet her, hugging her. Bassie is chatting to Senzi as well. Then Morafe greets us as well, introducing us to a man named Thabang. We met as we were all in hard labour together. But now we know whose plus one he is.

It’s just loud here. And everyone is chatting away. I’m just eating. I’m starving. So is Senzi.

“Mama says Risuna has discovered her cupboards now”, Bassie tells me.

I actually just start laughing. He’s a very curious kid and I’m always too scared to leave him unattended.

“So, we could be in shit if he breaks anything because apparently, he likes opening cupboards and chilling in them now.”

I’m just laughing.

“When do you guys head back to South Africa?” Senzi asks me.

“Tomorrow. Then next week we will meet up with everyone in Mtubatuba”. I answer him.

“Why don’t you stay another day? Then we can chill tomorrow without the noise?” Senzi.

“Work. Things have been a bit tricky since…”

I cannot finish my sentence.

“I understand”, Senzi says as he nods his head at me.

“How is she? My moth - … Lady Laura. How is she? Is she okay?” Senzi asks me.

Bassie and I look at each other. Wandi and Senzi look at us. Morafe is also looking in our direction.

I take a deep breath then say, “she’s not coping. She misses you. She asks Bassie and I about you all the time. She asked me if you’d ever forgive her and love her again.”

“And the bishop? He’s not there for her?” Senzi.

“He’s making her pay for what she did… guilt-tripping her every chance he gets… making it seem as if she should make a choice between you and him. And if she chooses you, to him it means that she’s not sorry for what she did. And that you come first over him.” Me.

“The bishop?” Senzi. He’s genuinely shocked.

“Yeah. Like he’s changed. We all don’t recognise him anymore. Their relationship has changed. We don’t recognise it anymore. It’s actually coming across as an abusive relationship now. And since the bishop’s sisters and mother have arrived, it’s worse.” Bassie.

“What?! His family has arrived? Living where? And to do what?” Senzi.

“It’s insane. They’ve taken over the church. They seem to have taken over Lady Laura’s house. And they threaten to send her back to Ghana every chance they get”, Bassie needs to stop over sharing this information.

Senzi is seriously disturbed.

“Why is Lady Laura allowing all of this to happen?” Wandi enquires.

“Yeah… I mean this is completely unlike her”, Morafe says. The Thabang guy looks extremely uncomfortable with this entire conversation.

“Maybe she wants to leave or fight or something, but if the bishop rejects her, she’s scared she might not even have Senzi to comfort her”, Bassie.

Senzi’s jaws tighten.

“Love, please walk me to the restroom”, Wandi says.

We know she’s saying that they need to talk.

Senzi nods his head. They both stand up then walk away.

…

We are back at our hotel now. We are literally walking into our hotel room at 6am. That event was lit. After eating, people were drinking and dancing… in the rain!

I feel very drunk. Bassie is more than tired. She heads to the bathroom but doesn’t say what she is going there to do. I just hear the shower water go off and I know she’s showering before bed. I decide to undress and join her.

I get into the shower and she receives me well. She first hides her c-section scar. Why would she hide that from me? She gave me my son through that scar.

“You are so sexy. That scar is the sexiest thing about you”, I tell her.

She smiles at me then says, “But it’s so ugly”.

“It’s stunning. It’s the most beautiful mark on your body”, I say.

I walk towards her. She wraps her legs around me. I’m instantly hard. The thing is, I’m drunk. And if we slip and fall in this shower, one of us could come out extremely injured.

So I decide to shut the water then carry her out of the shower.

I lead her to our bed then I lay her down like the queen that she is. She starts playing with herself, making me watch her. I can feel myself getting hard, about to go crazy actually.

She starts making noises of pleasure.

I can’t hold back anymore. I enter her. And I ride her like a drunk bull. I actually cum so quickly, I feel like I’ve left her unsatisfied. As I catch my breath, she climbs on top of me, ready to make sure that she is equally satisfied before we go to sleep. And fuck she rides me. She comes for everything I have that’s left within my drunk and tired body. She rides me, touching herself and using her finger to help my penis pleasure herself. I’ve never seen her like this. I’m the one who’s about to have a second cuming. And when she shakes, I’m so thankful because I know that my penis had finished a job that my drunk state couldn’t allow me to finish.

She climbs off me, says goodnight then sleeps. I hold her. She lets me. We sleep.

I wake up first the morning after. My penis still feels quite painful. This girl worked on me last night. Clearly.

I stretch a bit then reach for my phone. I see a few missed calls from my mother. I quickly call her back.

“Keith, hello”. She answers her phone.

“Mme, hi.”

“Why haven’t you been answering your phone? And you sound like you are still asleep? At this time, Keith? It’s after 1pm.”

Why is she shitting on me exactly?

“Mme, what do you need?” I ask her.

“I wanted to know if you were back in South Africa yet. Your father and I want to talk to you boys about something important and we will be having an intervention for Michael and Masingita. Masingita says that Michael moved out and is now living with a love child and its mother. She says she doesn’t want a divorce, so she’s asked the family to intervene.”

So much drama? I just woke up.

“Mme, I’m still in Tholoana Kingdom. We will probably only be back that side tonight. Bassie is still sleeping. We will come see you when we come to pick up Risuna then we can talk about this properly. We will probably have to meet another day.” I say.

“Okay. I understand. But tonight, can we at least all discuss what your father and I need to discuss with you?” She says.

“We could be back quite late, Mme.” Me.

“Bathung Keith, please try to make it back at least by 8pm hle.” She says.

“Mme, we will talk. Let me wake up and start my day.”

She sounds hacked but I’m not going to break road rules just so she can tell me that she’s having sex with my dad again.

I check my messages and I see something from Noria. What now?!

I open the message.

It reads, “I miss you. I still cannot believe that she stole you from me.”

I literally delete it with immediate effect and block her. I look at Bassie peacefully sleeping. No one is coming between us. No one.

[cemeteryxdriven]

today has been hell and I’ve cried like four times (it’s 7pm and I got up at 130, do the math there and it sucks ass) but there is yet another new tv in my room that hopefully won’t just up and die after three months like the last one I had. the last one was in my parents’ room for ages and after all the chaos of moving it to my room and wall mounting it fuckin kicked the bucket.

now I have another one we had that I think was maybe my brother’s before he moved out? idk where tf it came from. it’s a Samsung so better quality than the no-name-brand last one (in theory anyway) and, even if it’s used, it defs wasn’t used as heavily as my last one was before I got it. also managed to hook up an ethernet cable (though somewhat precariously) so I should have interwebs back on my tv laptop.

but to get the tvs swapped out and mounted and shit I had to clean my room again which of course is just a fucking depression pit always. which meant like, two hours of cleaning shit up so we could get shit sorted. and like, I broke the fuck down because it’s not been that long since the renovations and huge clean out and it was already fucking bad again. I have like. major fucking issues maintaining it because I am almost always in here and I’ve been coasting at rock bottom for well over a year now.

I just feel like shit. my head hurts from all the crying and it’s hot as fucking balls today too so I feel nauseous as hell on top of it. I’m also pretty sure I’ve caught a headcold off one of my parents bc my sinuses suddenly felt ten times worse than they did yesterday when I got up. which is fucking fantastic. I don’t need to get sick, not now, not two days before payday when I need to go to psych and run all my errands and pick up.

and hooooly fucking shit I cannot wait to pick up because I need a fucking massive hit rn. I need a whole fuckin green day. maybe I’ll do that saturday while everyone’s out, just fucking hide and smoke til my head swims. maybe watch some cool shit I haven’t got round to yet like the hunger or twins of evil, or if I want familiar, good ol bam stuff or some kinda marathon. probably hammer, but maybe a romero or giallo day could be neat. and I wanna write. write as much as I fucking can if my brain will allow it and if anything comes out coherent.

fuck. now I want it to be thursday and saturday at the same damn time