#pew pew new ideas everywhere

[cowyolks]

IN DEATH’S HANDS

PART ONE OF TWO

Pairing: Grim Reaper! Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Female Reader

Prompt: You survived that car crash. Despite all the doctors saying you should have been crushed like a soda can. It shouldn’t have been possible, but you had a strange suspicion it had something to do with the cloaked figure that followed you everywhere.

Words: 5.7 K

Warnings: Mentions of Death and dying, stalking, gore, car crashes, deception, protective Simon.

You had considered yourself to be abnormal since you learnt to comprehend your own thoughts.

It started when you were little, sat politely on an old wooden pew, termite bitten and nearly rotting. Worn cloth was placed over the wood, proving little cushion or support. Odd and depressing music relayed through your ears, the mournful toon of an organ, and the slow chanting of hymns covered by sorrowful hiccups.

You were too small to register loss, to feel the grief of not seeing your grandmother again. So you sat, swinging your legs in a continuous loop, cheap pen held between your fingers as you crudely sketched upon a faded bulletin.

You drew your latest fascination, the black-robed figure that stood over your grandmother the last couple of days. Face covered and massive scythe in hand.

It didn’t speak, it didn’t grant you any attention, it didn’t even look to be breathing.

All it did was loom.

Something inside yourself screamed, instructing you to not draw any attention to its haunting aura. To avoid the blowing shadows of its cloak and not stare at the chilling gleam of such a powerful weapon.

It cornered your grandmother once you left the house, tiny hand holding onto your mother as she took you back home after her shift at work.

You were the one that found her, body still and cold as you went to show her your new toy. You called for your mother after she wouldn’t answer from your tugging on her frigid and stiff fingers.

You were beyond confused when your mother ushered you away, shutting the door behind your grandmother and letting fat tears fall down her cheeks.

Later, she had told you that you wouldn’t see grandmother again, that she was dead.

But as life goes.

People live, they flourish, they attempt to imprint their memory into the hearts of others before they are stomped out like wilted roses.

Death was nature, something that always occurred and a stone-cold constant that no one could best. Yet, it still didn’t describe the dark wordless figure that followed you, or the fact that you were older but hadn’t shown any signs of aging since your 25th birthday.

While your friends, the same age as you, began to grow grey hairs with soft crows feet imprinting their skin.

They always asked your secret, and all you could do was shrug, truthfully you didn’t know.

Candlelight flickered eerily in front of your face, a large three and two placed gently down on the table by your generous coworkers.

You likely wouldn’t eat the chocolate cake, seeing as you were still working and all. You never ate in the morgue. It was a superstition that just felt right, you couldn’t see yourself taking sustenance when the corpses couldn’t.

“Make a wish!” Dana clapped her hands together as her and Mark finished the last chorus of Happy Birthday. You didn’t believe in wishes, but regardless the candlelight made you twitch, not liking the idea of fire being around all the embalming chemicals in your office.

You blew them out perhaps too quickly.

“What did you wish for?” Mark asked, leaning closer with a curious glint in his eyes. He liked you, it was rather obvious from his puppy dog eyes and the fact he politely asked you out this weekend. You always found some excuse for his advances, not looking for a relationship.

He was good looking with curly dark hair and forest green eyes. Certainly a reliable worker as well, someone who was kind while also getting the job done.

You should have been happy to hop in a relationship with him, at least maybe go on a date or two. But something in your mind always made you hesitate. Perhaps it had something to do with the looming figure always stepping closer when the two of you spoke.

“Aren’t I not supposed to tell?” You asked lightly, shaking your head when Dana offered you a slice of cake.

She huffed, but knew of your rule. Instead she handed it over to Mark, who happily took a small bite with the flimsy plastic fork. He swallowed, “I guess not. Do you have anything planned for your birthday?”

He shifted a few inches closer, the movement didn't make you uncomfortable. Actually, it was almost comforting to feel the warmth of his skin through your white coat.

"No, I was going to order takeout." You shrugged.

Birthdays had always left a bitter taste in your mouth. It was one year closer to death, one year closer to being put on a cold table and embalmed like you did to constant others.

The cloaked figure swayed at your revelation, as if it could actually hear what you were thinking. Your eyes briefly caught on the bleach white of bone, the color contrasting against the hood like a mask. Maybe it could hear what was going on in your head?

“Well, you have to go out for your birthday!” Dana insisted, pointing the dirty spatula towards you in disbelief.

You sighed in displeasure. Honestly, eating greasy takeout and watching cheap rom coms sounded better than going out, but the look on Mark and Dana’s faces had you pondering as you pursing your lips.

“Fine. But I want to be home by eleven,” you grunted, watching as your two coworkers tried their best not to burst in excitement. You were so engrossed in their expressions you missed the chilled sweeping of black fabric.

It came so abruptly you couldn’t help but let out a little yelp, the coldest sensation you had ever felt had settled upon your flesh. It took a moment to catch your breath, the frostbite-like pain shooting through every nerve until it zeroed upon your wrist. Teeth gritted, crunching down on the crowns. You glanced down in horror at bleached bone—resembling of human phalanges, connected to the cloaked figure who loomed over you like a chilling shadow of dread. Like cutting thorns and blood-suckling leeches.

Not even a gasp or inhale could escape your body.

It’s the first time the specter had acknowledged you, just as it was the first time you had really engaged with it, round eyes meeting the shadow beneath the hood.

Frosted eyes flashed, so ghoulish and hair-raising you were sure you’d faint. The bones around your wrist tightened, before the figure stepped back and muttered something so low you could not hear, but could only feel the rattling vibration of sound against your quickening pulse.

“Hey! You okay?”

With a snap much like a rubber band, you flew back to reality, rounded eyes settling upon the chocolate birthday cake. A quick exhale, and you fell backward against the chair, huffing.

“Uh yeah, I just…I don’t feel well.” You managed to explain to a hovering Mark, who now stood in the same spot as the figure.

His lips pursed in concern, his large hand going to gently cup upon your forehead, feeling for a fever. He was too kind for his own good.

“You feel ice cold, go take the rest of the day off, I’ll pick up where you left off.” He voiced, removing his palm and placing it nervously upon his knee. You sighed, not enjoying the thought of taking a sick day, regardless of almost being done.

“Don’t even think about staying, we expect you to get some sleep and be ready to leave to go party at 7.” Dana tutted motherly, as she always tried to do when you worked too hard.

With a final huff, you nodded, going to stand up shakily.

“Do you need a ride home?” Mark asked, still attempting to conceal some of his worry. You shook your head, already feeling guilty about leaving in the first place. "Uh, no, I can walk. Besides some fresh air could do me some good." You offered, before hesitantly placing your hand upon the door after grabbing your bag from under your walnut office desk.

"Are you su-"

"Go," Both Mark and Dana spoke, echoing thorough the small office. You let out a weak chuckle. "Okay."

You stepped out of the mortuary, shielding your eyes from the beating sun. Little breeze blew throughout D.C, but despite it, you were happy to be out in the heat, away from the chilling freezers that kept the bodies from prematurely rotting.

It was a short walk home, through the very busy streets, so you felt comfortable enough around all these people to not get kidnapped or robbed. You lived in your small condo off the Potamic, high enough you could see boats cross the dirty rippling waters.

You huffed, beginning to make your way down the cracked sidewalks without completely losing your mind. Whatever the creature was, it had made a point to grab you, to suck all the warmth from your flesh in its threat. The cloaked figure had never acknowledged you besides the cool stares it occasionally froze you with... but this, this was an entirely new playing field.

In this case, you couldn't help but to feel like a pawn instead of a king.

You startled as you felt a shoulder bump against your own, knocking the wind out of you and having you fall back onto your ass. You collided with the rough cement, your tailbone throbbing in retaliation. What a birthday you were having.

"Hey! Watch where you're-" you cut yourself off as you glanced upward, behind the complaining stranger you had collided with. There the figure appeared again, this time levitating near the steps of an old library, one you frequented in.

The figure's hood was pushed higher than it typically was, skeletal features barely visible, but pearly eyes like freezing blizzards bit back into your own stare. You stood there for what could have been hours, perhaps even years before the robed figure moved. His head declined at an angle, a gesture most commonly associated with 'follow me", before it floated into the library.

You blame your constant curiosity and yearn for the unknown for taking a hesitant step forward, up those familiar crumbling steps.

Immediately you are hit with the aroma of coffee beans and printed paper. Before this scent would comfort you, now it leaves you on edge. Your head was on a swivel, searching for the robed creature, but when you couldn't find him, you deflated in surprising defeat, why were you upset you couldn't find a ghost no one could see but you?

You took a left down the historical aisle, one of your absolute favorites. It was fascinating learning of different cultures and how they viewed death, how they mourned and what religion they practiced. Would it be heaven, resurrection, eternal damnation as a deity or God dragged you to a version of Hell?

Could it be Thanatos, or Hel, or maybe even.....

A heavy book dropped to the floor, as if it was pushed on its own. The dark cover mocking you with words red like crimson.

The Origin of Reaping.

The Grim Reaper. A deathly figure everyone seemed to idolize in horror movies, tv shows, and comic books. Kids dressed up as him for Halloween, swinging plastic scythes at their siblings. The figure was even in Sunday morning Cartoons.

Your mysterious figure happened to have a few too many of the same characteristics, as impossible as it sounds.

With a final glance around the section, making sure no one saw the book fly magically to the ground, you picked it up by the beaten spine, shuffling over to a cushioned seat and sitting with a quiet exhale.

You opened it randomly in the middle, a particular passage catching your attention,

Reapers can come in many forms, some even taking shape of a persona their prey finds to be most attractive, as this likely assists in retrieving souls. Other modern depictions display a dark cloak and iron scythe used to reap.

Your mouth was left agape with every word you read, the impossible pieces carving into place in your mind, despite how crazy it sounds. You flipped another page, eyes drinking in the text as if you were parched.

It is said that Reapers are only seen when their prey is close to death. Although there is some occasion of ‘seers’ appearing throughout history. It is said that seers could spot certain deities since birth or a tragic event. In history, Edgar Allen Poe, William Shakespeare, Frida Kaleo, Queen Mary I, and many others all reported seeing signs of reapers or beings with similar characteristics.

Seers often can predict who dies with their ability of watching a reaper touch its prey. No one knows why they're able to see what they do, but the gift is sought out by thousands for the unique information of knowing how and when death will occur.

Your knuckles were growing white amongst the yellowing pages at every passage you read, gathering more of an understanding in these last 10 minutes than you had your whole entire life. But why? Why would your reaper lead you here, to learn more about him?

With a final turn you eyed a last passage, the font in a starling bold,

If one suffers the touch of a reaper, it will only be a short period of time before death.

A frozen chill set over your body again, throat constricted and unmoving as no air expelled from your lungs. The deity had touched you, the bony fingers clutching your wrist in a permanent sentence. Your limbs were frozen as the world seemed to disappear, the very air drowning. You were going to die, and soon.

"Hey, love. Alrigh' there?" A deep Mancunian accent startled you from your shock. A tiny yelp left your tightening throat, breaking you out of your trance as you glanced upwards to the voice.

He was undeniably handsome in a ruggish way. He was by no means pretty, but captivating enough to distract you for a moment. He had light hair, stubble covering his scarred face and framing his smashed nose that had been broken one too many times. His eyes were a rich brown, devoid of emotions, despite the fact that he had just voiced concern. He was dressed sloppily, dark sweats hanging low from his hips and a black hoodie to match.

Rugged, but certainly your type.

“Oh, ummm.” You blinked, falling back into the present with your cheeks burning from your blunt stare. “Yes, yes I’m fine. Just… it’s been a long day.”

His head bobbed, tongue licking his dry bottom lip quickly. “Aye, it has, hasn’t it?”

You chuckled nervously, never one to enjoy speaking to strangers or engaging in small talk. The man seemed to connect the dots, but still, he held out his hand, visible calluses littering his large palm.

“Simon.”

You nodded, reluctantly saying your own name before hesitantly reaching out to grip onto his hand. As your warm skin brushed upon his, you jolted, feeling the same icy cold temperature that led you to your crazed state in the first place.

Your eyes rounded, just as Simon’s eyes flashed in curiosity. You ripped your hand out of his grasp too quickly, standing before your legs could catch up to your body.

"Uh, it was nice meeting you, Simon. But I have to go."

He nodded, further displaying the scar running down his cheek and ending near his lip. "I'm sure I'll be seeing you again, this is my favorite section, and one of my favorite books." His deep voice bided goodbye warmly, although you couldn't stop your hairs from raising and your pulse from skyrocketing like hiding prey.

"Right, well goodbye." You lowly spoke, plastering on a fake smile before rushing to leave the aisles and head for your apartment to rest. As you walked home, you couldn't help but glance over your shoulder, dread filling every nerve of your body.

The annoying buzzing of your alarm woke you from your sleep, something you had desperately needed. Your hand slapped the off button, effectively killing the noise. You felt better despite the twilight that had already set in. Darkness had flooded into your bedroom, the moon illuminating the river, casting eerie shadows across your wardrobe and bookshelf.

With a sigh, you pulled back the silk covers, yawning and stretching before making your way to your walk-in closet.

Your phone's ringtone rang through the small space, making you jump and realize just how paranoid you've became.

"Hello?"

"Hey, how you feeling?" Dana's cheery voice broke through the device, making you relax slightly.

"Better, I got some rest. When are you picking me up?"

"Oh, I'm not. Mark is."

You sighed, but couldn't stop the gentle smile that fell onto your lips. It came as natural as it could. "You set me up.” You put the pieces together. “Are we still going to the same place?"

"Of course, I'm not that mean. What are you wearing, birthday girl?"

“Haven’t thought about it. Probably just a nice blouse and jeans.”

You could hear her scoff through the phone, an offended tut escaping as well. “Hell no, it’s your birthday, and the last time you wore a dress Mark was basically drooling, and I’d love to get a picture this time.”

A short laugh huffed out of both of you, just as your fingers trickled further back in your closet, feeling the fabrics of the dresses you only wore for conferences and the occasional luncheon.

“I’ve got this black one, short and sparkly, you’d like it.” You informed Dana, pulling the dress from the hanger and holding it out to inspect.

“Perfect! I told Mark to pick you up at seven, so better hurry!”

You checked your phone, white font glowing, 18:09. You had about fifty minutes give or take. That was plenty for someone who rarely cared about appearance.

“See you there.” You bided farewell before clicking the red button, effectively cutting off the call.

It took little time to get ready, slipping on the dress that just nearly passed your ass. This one, you decided, was from your rebel years as a teen. Now you’d never wear anything that short or revealing as it pushed against your breasts.

You lightly dusted some make-up across any blemishes, and did your hair as best as you could before snatching your purse. Eyes flickered around the condo, making sure there was no sign of your ghoulish companion.

Thank God—he wasn’t there.

You hobbled, slipping dark stilettos upon your feet, making sure to not completely trip down the stairs as you spotted Mark’s navy BMW sitting at the curb. The man popped out of the driver’s side as you approached, mouth visibly popped open at your difference in wardrobe.

He looked quite handsome himself, an ironed white button down cuffed at his forearms, and black slacks accenting the whole look. He’d done his hair, styling it perfectly to accent his handsome green eyes and rich olive skin.

"H-hey, wow." His hand went to the back of his neck, likely rubbing the nervous sweat that gathered there. It was cute, in a childish crush kind of way. He opened the passenger side door, gesturing for you to step in. "You look beautiful." He sighed out, as if it was taking all his strength to spit out the words.

You chuckled brightly, daring enough to reach upwards and kiss his stubbled cheek, smelling the addicting bergamot cologne he wore. "And you look handsome." You climbed into the car, relaxing against the cool leather seats and smoothing your dress as Mark shut the door behind you.

As he opened his own door and climbed in, you could see the cute dusting of red on his cheek.

You sat in comfortable silence, riding for nearly ten minutes before you arrived at the small pub Dana had always spoke of in high regard. It was proudly Irish owned, known for having the best Shepherd's pie in all of D.C.

Perfectly your scene instead of a busy and loud nightclub.

Mark pulled the car into park, huffing a sigh before he turned. "Ready for some fun?" A soft smile was easy to come by, as was the aura of feeling safe in his presence.

"Only until eleven." You reminded him with a smirk, you could change your clothes, but you couldn't change who you are.

"Only until eleven." He repeated, amusement coating his words as he turned the key and stepped out. You opened the door after him, stepping beside him before making your way inside.

Immediately the whiff of beer and sweat flooded your senses, making you wrinkle your nose in protest as you adjusted. Mark let out a little cough, seemingly adjusting as well.

"Do you see her?" You yelled over the live band, hoping to spot the long braids Dana always styled to perfection. Mark, being taller than most, easily spotted her, "I see her!" He shouted, lightly going to grab your hand in his, the warmth of his skin welcoming.

Both of you weaved through people until you reached Dana, who was viciously guarding two barstools next to her. "Fuck off, dude, I already told you these spots are taken!" She snapped, poison dripping off her words as she glared.

"Easy..." you deescalated the situation, watching the man storm off as you took the seat at the end, Mark sitting in the middle. "Hey, you made it!" Dana's mood automatically switched, a cheery and blinding smile once again on her face.

She automatically reached over, pushing a red shot towards you with a giggle. "Get started, I've been waiting to see you hammered for like five years now."

"Alright, Alright." You giggled as well, picking up the shot and downing it only with a slight wince. It’s been way too long since you’ve partied.

“So, Mark, what do you think of the Birthday Girl’s outfit?” Dana quipped, obviously wanting to see the man’s cheeks glow red. It worked, his cheeks warming and pupils dilating.

He cleared his throat after taking a sip of his beer, "I see what you're doing, asshole. And for your information, she looks beautiful, I already told her that."

"Asshole? How about you come play this asshole in pool?" Dana challenged, a smirk on her red lips as she glanced back to you with a playful expression. "Wanna play too? You can partner up with Mark, he'll need the help."

Mark flicked her across the forehead, a small smile pulling at your lips at her muted ‘ow’.

“Go ahead and play, I'll stay here and play the winner." You compromised; far more interested in people watching anyways.

"You sure?" Mark asked. Your heart fluttered at his concern, but you nodded anyways. "Go ahead." You vaguely heard the trash talk from Dana as the two of them left to find a table and scavenge for quarters.

A sudden brush of leather scraped across your bare shoulder, the cool material causing goosebumps to spread across your flesh as you turned, a scoff escaping you as you noticed two more barstools open and the stranger took the one next to you instead.

"Whiskey." His deep voice sounded oddly familiar, as he adjusted on the seat, legs spreading wider as his kneecap bumped into yours. An annoyed huff left you as you scooted a couple inches away, so your ass was nearly hanging off the seat.

"What kind?"

"Irish, one for the lady as well." His head tilted to you, just as you caught a glimpse of the familiar light hair and raised scars from earlier. The man in the library, Simon.

"Oh, thank you." You awkwardly mumbled, settling for fiddling with your thumbs under the table. His eyes, the color of coffee beans crinkled, visible amusement dancing between the flickering lights.

"Welcome, dove."

The bartender set the two glasses in front of you, happily taking the green bills Simon offered. You watched as he gripped the glass, hand swallowing the material as if it were puny. He extended it to you, offering a toast. You picked up your own glass of amber liquid, if only to spare you the embarrassment.

"To life, we all have it, and sometimes it may kick us down. But here's to kicking it back." The glasses clinked, and you swallowed the alcohol with a cough. Simon's jaw ticked as he swallowed his, no wince visible, or even the twitch of an eyelid.

You wiped your lip softly, careful not to mess up your lip gloss. "So, what's the coincidence of finding you in two random places all in one day?" You joked, but honestly wanted to know the answer, to breakdown this stranger just as you did in the morgue.

"I like this place, reminds me of home." He gestured vaguely, his deep voice mellow and calm. "Where's home?" You questioned, interrogation being one of your many bad habits, it's a wonder how Dana and Mark even became your friends.

"Manchester."

"This is an Irish Pub." You deadpanned.

"Clever bird." He matched your sarcasm, something you found shamefully attractive. "Ireland is closer, eh? And don't tell a soul, but the brew is better there." A deep chuckle rumbled through him, his hefty shoulders vibrating with the sound. He was massive, muscle rippling off of him and filling him out, despite his tall appearance.

And his accent.

"Your secret is safe with me."

His lips ticked upwards for a moment, before dropping again. "So, what brings you to a place like this? Quite a different scene from the library."

"It's my birthday, my friends wanted to celebrate."

"But you didn't, eh?"

You sighed, nearly startled by how well this stranger could read you. lips pursed, you glanced at him through your eyelashes, then turned to see Dana lining up a shot as Mark strategized his next move.

"No, not really. But I haven't been feeling myself lately, I thought it would help to go out. To feel again, to know that I am here." An embarrassed chuckle escaped you, "I'm sorry, you probably didn't want to hear all of that."

Simon shrugged, "I've heard worse."

A loud celebratory cheer broke out, you turned spotting Dana pumping her fist after hitting the 8 ball in. Mark huffed in defeat, forest eyes latching to you with a soft smile. Wanna play? he mouthed over the music.

You shook your head, gesturing for the two of them to play again. Mark frowned but didn't push on the matter. You sure?

Yes. You mouthed back, before turning back to Simon, cold eyes watching the scene unfold in curiosity.

"That man really likes you." He observed, rough fingertips tapping on the table, if he pushed any harder you were sure it would cause the wood to indent.

"Oh, yes. He's a great guy, handsome and kind. Smart too, he just..." You trailed off, chewing your lip as you tried to ponder for a word to say that wasn't too harsh.

"He doesn't give you that spark. Of excitement and mystery." Simon finished for you, tilting his head downwards as he studied your expression. You hummed, heart beating a little faster at the revelation.

"And you could?"

"I didn't say that, Dove."

Your cheeks flushed, embarrassment rippling down your spine at such an accusation, and how he had been so quick to make you to squirm. He knew exactly what he was doing, and you felt the sudden sense to get up and go play a game to avoid more teasing.

"Needa smoke, want to come out with me?" He offered just as you were about to stand and walk away. You struggled, wondering if you should run like prey, or put your hands into the beartrap and hope it didn't close on your bones.

"Smoking is bad for you." You quipped but followed behind his heels like a wounded puppy. A chuckle vibrated through him again, teeth flashing as he held the door open for you. "And I know it."

You stepped out into the chilly air, a pleasant change compared to the stuffy bar. Your arms wrapped around your waist; elbows leant against the rickety iron railing. Simon fished in his pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter with an exhale. A quick flick and a flame sparked, settling upon the paper as the scent of tobacco aired.

He placed it between his lips, the red cherry glowing before he released, exhaling smoke from his nose and mouth. You'd think it was hot, if you couldn't smell it, or know how bad it was for him.

"So, what's your story, oh mysterious stranger?" Your heels pinched at your feet, you couldn't wait to get them off and back into slippers. Another exhale of smoke as he glanced down, the lamppost catching the reflection of his eyes, making them look almost white.

"No story. Joined the British military when I was 18, retired, here I am." He spoke with amusement, as if it was the funniest thing in the world. It wasn't, the military was no joke, just death and bullets, and if they happened to survive, they could still hear those bullets at home.

"It takes guts to serve, a lot of death." You sympathized, knowing it would be impossibly hard to watch the people you called brothers and sisters die in horrendous ways.

He took a drag on his cigarette, a slow nod of his head signifying that he heard. He flicked the dying bud to the ground.

"It takes a lot to do your job too. A mortician is a serious job, espically after seeing so much death in your family." He related; words sharp as a knife. Your blood ran cold as he spoke, never once had you mentioned your job, or the death of your parents and grandma, he shouldn't have known.

Muscles froze, heart beating nearly out of your chest as you glanced up at him. Your mouth was left agape as you stared.

What was once a warm body with handsome scars and bulky muscles now stood a black cloaked figure, skeletal bone, and white glowing eyes.

It was him, the Reaper. And oh, how it had tricked you.

A scream was crawling up your throat ready to expel until you heard his voice.

"Listen to me, Dove. I've followed you all your life, and I've never hurt you. But we are out of time." His voice was the same, still Simon's, even as those glowing eyes bore into yours.

"How is this happening?" You muttered as you squeezed your eyes shut, going as far as pinching yourself until freezing skeletal fingers gripped your chin.

"Listen. I know you read the passages in that book. I made sure you did, so you know since I touched you, it’ll be over soon. You have to keep yourself safe.” he squeezed your face, not enough to hurt you, but enough to make you pop your eyes open and listen closely.

“Why’d you touch me then? Why are you even acknowledging me if you’d ignored me all my life?”

“I’m just a soldier, dove. I don’t make the rules. Seers, they’re destined to find us, to make our hearts beat again. The higher ups don’t like that, so we are told to kill anyone like you.”

Your heart beats faster, knowing this was enough weird to send you straight to a psychiatric ward. What did he mean make his heart beat again?

“Hey! Stop touching her!” A familar voice broke out through the buzzing of the street lamps. Skeletal fingers dropped from your chin, just as the two of you turned to face Mark, his jaw clenched and fury in his eyes.

“Mark, no-” you started, watching in horror as he stormed Simon, forcibly pushing him away from you, even though he barely moved an inch. Your heart dropped, knowing the damage was somehow done. Mark had touched a Reaper, and now he would die. He shouldn’t have been able to see him in the first place.

“Fool, what have you done?” Simon growled, now back to his human form to spare Mark the shock, dark eyes nearly black in the night.

“Seriously dude, what I have done? I’m not the one harassing women.” Mark hissed, looking small despite his height as he squared up to a reaper. Simon inhaled, chest puffing even larger than before, a nonverbal threat.

“He-he touched you.” You whimpered, eyes watering with salty tears, one threatening push and they’d fall. Mark, sweet Mark, he didn’t deserve this.

Mark’s head tilted, taking his eyes off Simon, always one to check on you instead of worry for himself. His features softened, if only for a moment.

“Cmon, we’re leaving.” He spat through gritted teeth, sending one last wicked glare to Simon before he turned his back, gently grasping your wrist and steering you away from Simon.

Before Simon could utter another word, Mark had steered you to his car, keys in his grasp as he unlocked it with a stab of his finger. You’d never seen him like that, anger flooding off of him. You weren’t sure if he’d send you sinking to the depths after him.

The key slotted into the ignition, engine roaring to life as he reversed speedily.

“Put your seat belt on… please.” Mark spoke through slotted teeth, pulling out of the parking lot and into the nearly vaccant roads. You gulped, but otherwise reached behind you to pull the belt into the slot with a latch. Your hands shook, adrenaline being your enemy as you couldn’t stop your rapidly beating heart. What if this was how you died? Your heart beating out of your chest.

“You can’t just disappear like that, I was worried sick. I love you too much for something to happen to you.”Mark expressed, taking his eyes off the road for a moment, only to frown at the horrified expression on your face. Perhaps he overstepped, but you weren’t thinking about that, only about the person he was about to run over, standing right in the middle of the road.

“Look out!”

It was all a blur, the swerving, the uncontrolled movements of the tires. It was poetic in a way, the man you had at your heels had just torn his heart out, only for it to bleed as the vehicle crashed.

You gasped, black coating your vision as bent metal pinched at all your sides. Metallic blood scented the air as tv static coated your brain.

The last thing you saw, as your vision turned black, was glowing white eyes and bleached bone.

#call of duty modern warfare #cod #simon ghost riley #modern warfare #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #call of duty #tw death #tw dying #no one asked for this but I’m posting it anyway

[sminny-wew]

I burst through the doors of Warner Bros. HQ and make my way to the main boardroom and force David Zaslav and Sam Register to listen to my pitch for a new series of Looney Tunes shorts starring Pepe Le Pew and Penelope Pussycat, in which Pepe and Penelope are utterly in love with each other a la Gomez and Morticia Addams and Pepe is the himbo malewife to Penelope's klutzy girlfailure and the humor stems not from 1940s ideas of romantic comedy that people in the 21st century interpret as sexual assault but from the couple's lovestruck shenanigans unwittingly causing chaos and destruction everywhere they go (Pepe's skunk smell and Penelope causing bad luck to whoever's path she crosses; naturally because they are both culturally feared/despised animals their bad luck cancels out and that's why she isn't bothered by his smell or maybe Penelope has congested sinuses or something). Sam looks at me and says "Isn't this just the Goofy Gophers but straight" and I lunge at his trachea for even daring to imply that Pepe or Penelope are in any way heterosexual

I am then forcibly escorted from the Warner Bros. lot but joke's on them b/c while they were distracted by my brilliant pitch I managed to escape with a copy of the Batgirl movie shoved up my ass

#is this bit anything #looney tunes #pepe le pew #penelope pussycat #I need more Pepe and Penelope shorts that have the vibe of Really Scent b/c in that one she DOES love him and just can't stand the smell

[sea-owl]

Gothic!Pen just oozes confidence. I love it.

She's not married yet simply because she refuses to accept anyone less than what she deserves. And nobody in the Ton was truly aware of her dark and alluring charms until she decided she was ready to finally put more effort in looking for a husband.

Anon asked: I love the Addams Featherington family au idea! I love how Portia seems more supportive and laid back. I can see Penelope just going for a walk at night in the dangerous part of London to deliver her latest issue of Whistledown, poisoned knives at her side. But lord the fit Colin has when he follows her one night, and she’s just so chill about it. Oh would his temper come out.

Penelope is still her generation's wall flower, but this time it's because she's bored by the men of the ton. None of them bring any passion that her family desires. Penelope has more fun gathering gossip for Lady Whistledown.

The only one of her sisters that has married thus far is Phillipa who found a passionate man in Mr. Finch. Though his passion laid in cheeses, but he won their mama over when he brought manchego curado and viejo as a courting gift.

Of course she still loves Colin and should he ask she might marry him but she has yet to see any real passion from him. If only she fell in love with Anthony or Benedict, she's seen passion from them. Eloise too. Maybe it skips every third sibling? Francesca is pretty mild mannered.

A marriage without passion or love? Penelope was at a conundrum. Was it selfish for her to want both in her marriage?

She was still debating this as she walked into the church. There was a last minute edit she wanted to add to the next column and she unfortunately didn't have time to make her way down to the print shop tomorrow. She had tea with Gen she absolutely could not miss.

Letter in place, Penelope turns to leave, only to see the man she was just thinking about, half hidden in the shadows, and stalking towards her.

"Co-Col-"

"That would be Colin," Colin said, now standing in front of Penelope.

Penelope looked everywhere but the pew she left her note. It would do her no good to lead him to it. She settles her gaze just over his shoulder. "What are you doing here?"

"I could very well ask you the same thing," Colin shot back. "Your family was never the church type."

"Well not during mass we don't, all the best ghosts come out during confession."

"Penelope!" Colin exclaimed.

There was a change in Colin's tone of voice that caused Penelope to look directly at him. This was new. For once Colin did not have his charmer's smile on. He was staring her down, his mouth set in a frown, eyebrows arched inward, and his arms crossed. His body screamed angry, but his eyes also showed a hint of fear.

Penelope was fascinated. Gone was the man with a silver tongue, in front of her was now just raw emotion.

Penelope glanced away.

Damn it, she accidentally glanced at the pew where her note was hidden.

"You know I'm suddenly developing a taste for prayer."

Penelope raised her eyebrow. "Prayer?"

"Yes, but not for me. For you."

"Me?"

"Yes, because prayer is the only thing that is going to save you!"

With that Colin dove for the pew and her note. Successfully grabbing it and holding it above both of their heads.

"Colin no!" Penelope exclaimed. One hand gripping his arm, trying to pull it down, while the other is reaching for her note. "That's my note! It's a secret!"

Honestly how rude can he be opening up something that doesn't belong to him?

"A secret worth risking your life?"

Penelope debated stabbing him with one of her knives, but sadly she doubts he has the poison tolerance that she and her sisters do.

Colin ripped open her letter. Penelope ran out of the church. She had to examine herself, while she was not too happy about him ripping open her private correspondence like that this new side of him has piqued her interest.

They argued in the carriage. He was confusing her. One minute he is angry, the next worried for her and her secret of being Lady Whistledown, then he's back to angry when Penelope says she is proud of her accomplishments.

"I'm proud of what I've done, of the business my passion has built! I do not expect you who runs and does not even feel passion to understand," Penelope bites back.

Colin grew silent at that. "You think I don't feel passion?"

"You are a silver-tongued Colin," Penelope said. "A snake charmer. While I admire that, it does not breed passion."

Penelope isn't sure who kissed who. All she can feel is Colin lips on her lips, her neck, her breasts. Her hands running through his hair, and then under his shirt scraping down his back.

Was this the passion her mother said to find in a match? This all-encompassing fire that sings through her body that grows with every new touch she or Colin make to one another.

They stop in front of her house. Colin is insistent on coming inside with her. Penelope said if her family sees her she can just tell them she was wandering the graveyards again looking for new names. It's not the first time one of the ghosts tripped her.

Colin, already out of the carriage, reaches for her hand.

"For god's sake Penelope are you going to marry me or not?"

Well Penelope did say if Colin asked she would consider it. Maybe she can get both passion and love in the same marriage.

#gothic featheringtons #polin #penelope featherington #colin bridgerton

[abarbaricyalp]

A Time For Dancing

Rated T // 19k words // AO3 // Prompt: Based on a movie

This was written for one of the days of the Sambucky AU Week but clearly it was late

Sam Wilson has lived in the same hometown all his life. A hometown that outlaws public dancing. When Bucky Barnes moves from New York, with unstoppable feet and a charming smile, Sam accepts the things he wants to change and examines his own desires. They plan a high school dance (Footloose AU)

The thing was, Sam had a rebellious streak in him a mile wide. But, after watching his brother implode and disappear when Sam was 13, he was finding it difficult to ever act on any of his be-a-pain-in-the-ass urges in any meaningful way. Their small coastal town was strict and religious in a way that Sam sometimes couldn’t believe existed in a world with rock and roll music and big-budget hollywood movies. He supposed it helped that there the local theater was carefully vetted and there were no music venues of any kind in the town. No dancing at all, in fact.

Gideon and his friends were the last good push for rebellion. They threw dances in fields just outside of the city limits and pilfered alcohol from friends already in college. In the half decade since, the only rebellious spirits weren’t actually rebellious, they were just assholes. The kind of guys who jacked up their trucks and put foghorns on them and ran people off the road into ditches just because they could. The kind that started fights if someone’s voice or style wasn’t right. The kind who’d trip a quiet kid with bags of groceries. 

Sam couldn’t get behind that kind of bullshit. Gideon, he’d follow all over town, taking detailed mental notes as they went along, but everything Gideon did needed a crowd with him. If Sam posted up in a field with a boombox and David Bowie, he’d just be a weirdo. Steve Rogers might appear anywhere there was a righteous fight to be had. But he wasn’t a sure bet. Every change in weather down here seemed to try to kill him and the harried, upset looks his mother could send him would otherwise do the rest. Sam had been in the office after some fight of Steve’s and had seen the way his mother had come in, all concern and disappointment and no anger. Anger, Sam could work with, push back against. Disappointment? That was the killer.

But Bucky Barnes had appeared, with his loud bike and blaise attitude and ready fists and endless questions. God, the kid had so many questions. “Everyone down here’s Baptist? Even the Catholics?” “What do you mean the theater isn’t gonna show the new Farrah Fawcett movie?” “A dry country? Are you kidding? This ain’t the wild west.” “How do you live without dancing?” “It’s a law? It’s a law from when?” “Don’t you guys ever have fun?”

He was the antithesis to everything the town had built itself up to be without even trying. He carried a leather coat everywhere, even though the thermometers were still tipping 100. He cursed like a sailor. He played the loudest music Sam had ever heard. He pushed back on every rule he came up against. Sam knew he still hadn’t cut his hair. He just kept it pinned up enough to be within dress code standards. He knew because he’d put his hands through all of that hair, leaned up against that terrible bike of his.

He drove Sam nuts. He really did. Sam hated the way he always walked into service late. He hated the roar of his bike–honest, you could tell when he was still five minutes off ‘cause you could hear it. He hated the c**ky grin he wore all the time because it was infuriating and unearned. He was everything Sam wanted to be and was still too scared to reach for. Which meant Sam really liked him too. They could butt heads all day, but he was so down for whatever terrible idea came out of Bucky’s mouth when he grabbed Sam’s wrist and hauled him away from a diner booth or school desk or church pew.

#sambuckyauweek2022 #sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #captain america #writing

[passionateseadruid]

Netflix Death Note Rewrite

Summary:

I’m rewriting the 2017 Death Note Movie

This is the first in a series of Rewrites! Pretty much no one liked the Death Note Netflix Adaptation so I (an actual fan of the series) will try to rewrite the movie to actually make it compelling and competent.

First things first how long would this be? Ideally a mini series of 5-8 episodes maybe around 30 minutes each give or take. But let's say that we only have the original 1 hour and 40 minutes for a movie. Well we better make the most of it then.

~~~~

We open up on an old abandoned church busted pews, broken windows, and a cracked alter. The whole place furnished with old rugs and tarps to cover up the decay of the furniture, thousand of candles everywhere, maybe a mural on the wall of a brunette positioned in a stance with his arms out spread, welcoming the people, yet judging them at the same time.

"Light" Turner (still known as Donn Turner) stands behind the alter talking about Kira.

"Thank you all for coming to honor our savior. Kira the great god of justice, the god of the new world. I notice we have some knew attendants." Donn motions to a couple. Everyone looks to them and Donn motions them up to the front where they complete a ritual, something maybe to do with candles and ending in eating an apple. 

After the ritual everyone leave except for a brunette girl named Mia. She comes up and kisses him on the lips, praising him and his sermon today.

~~~~

The original relationship was very stale and didn't have much weight put onto it. It was also very toxic and the two characters didn't have much in common. By making "Light" the leader of this cult and Mia his pre-established girlfriend in said cult it tells us a few things about these characters already.

A. "Light" is very manipulative, and charismatic, while still being the toxic bitch he was to Misa in the anime. B. Mia, much like Misa is very loyal, but she's actually less interested in "Light" and is devoted heart, body, mind, and soul to Kira (You'll get to see more of that later but essentially Mia is a flip of Misa. Misa was first devoted to the idea of Kira and then her devotion turned into an obsession with Light. Mia will be the opposite but right now that's a further plot-point). And C. This takes place after either the Anime or the Manga (though I'm leaning more towards the Mange because the epilogue of that had the set up to this, where there were Kira Cults.)

~~~~

The next scene Donn and Mia enter Lights home and his dad is there preparing takeout.

"Donny! Oh Hello Mia."

"Hello Mr. Turner."

"Do you want to stay for Dinner? Donn made the Honor role again and got a 100% on his recent science project. I ordered his favorite food as a reward! We've got a lot to celebrate!"

"No thanks Mr. T. I should bet home. My step monsters will kill me if I'm out past my curfew."

"Okay, see you at school tomorrow." Donn smiles and strokes her head. He kisses her forehead and she kisses his cheek. 

"Bye love!" she smiles and walks out.

"Love huh? That's a bit soon considering your both still in school."

"Dad-"

"No no! It's fine she's a nice girl. I just don't want you to do something you'll regret,"

"I'm fine! I'll be in my room." He grabs a plate scoops some food onto it and takes it to his room.

"Wait I caught the Grim Angel today! Don't you want to hear about that? Donn? Can You at least take out the trash?"

"I will!" He slams the door. He then scarfs down the food and throws some garbage into the trash including a bag of potato chips. Then he goes to empty the trash. Once outside he throws the trash in the garbage can it starts to rain as a book drops right on Donn's head. "What the hell?" He picks it up and brings it into the house.

He goes up to his room and locks the door. "The human whose name is written in this note shall die. This will not take effect unless the writer has the person's face in their mind when writing his/her name. Therefore, people sharing the same name will not be affected. If the cause of death is written within the next 40 seconds of writing the person's name, it will happen. If the cause of death is not specified, the person will simply die of a heart attack. After writing the cause of death, details of the death should be written in the next 6 minutes and 40 seconds. No way, is this how Kira killed all those people?"

"Yes actually." Donn falls off his chair with a scream. Before him stands a big monster, 8 feet tall and looking like a demon. He had no eyes, and black fungus all over his body. His body itself was a ghostly pale and he had red flame like horns popping out the side of his head crackling and moving in a none existent wind. "Calm down! You have a father downstairs don't you. I'm sure he'll be worried if you start screaming."

"How do you know that? What are you?"

"My my. I thought a fan of our savior Kira would know a lot more about Shinigami."

"Kira? You're a Shinigami?"

"Yes... I go by Justice now."

"What does that mean?"

"I was human once. I was the most devout follower of Kira when we were alive."

"Teru Mikami."

"I cannot say. It is one of the rules."

"So why are you here?"

"I'm here to finish my work. I want you to kill off the remaining criminals."

"Why can't you do that yourself?"

"After the incident there was another rule in place to limit how many humans we can kill a year to just ten."

"Did you choose me? Is that how you know about my family?"

"Yes. I want you to become Light Yagami reincarnated, and for your precious little girlfriend to be the new Misa Amane."

The Shinigami "Justice" would then go on to push light into his first kill. He snuck into his dad's room and pilfered his brief case for the name of the Grim Angel. Damon Cher. Donn pushes him to escape custody steal a bike and ride onto the freeway.

"No one else should get hurt right? That's what it says on one of the rule pages."

"Correct."

About an hour later Mia sends him the news story via text that is identical to what he'd written down in the book.

"I'm a murderer."

"I thought that you were Kira's fan. Don't you want purge the world?"

"No! I just-"

"Lightling... if you don't do this I'll kill you and your girlfriend."

"Why me?"

"You're perfect."

~~~~

Okay that was a lot but it's all very important. Thing is... this is a sequel to the original death note and some of the themes I want to address are imposter syndrome and how you can't live in someone else's shadow. Spoiler alert but both "Light" and "L" are living in their successors shadows trying to live up to the expectation's of someone else. 

I also needed to give a reason why Light/Misa/Mikami wouldn't just rid the world of criminals once they became Shinigami. While I could just wipe their memories that wouldn't really explain why a Shinigami would come to earth other than pulling a Riuk and just having them be bored.

(also yes I know Misa didn't really care about being Kira but she may still want to be with Light in the afterlife.)

~~~~

The rest of that night "Light" killed ten criminals; and the next day he confided in Mia.

"So Justice here is your Shinigami."

"Yes."

"And you and me have been chosen as the new Kira's."

"Yes!"

"Give me the book."

"What? Why?"

"Light sweetie, the book." she holds her hand out.

"Fine. But don't be stupid okay."

"Oh and by the way, heart attacks are so cliche. People are already catching on." She whispers and leaves him taking the book with her.

~~~~

I know people didn't like Mia being the assertive one but she doesn't fit the role of Misa either. This whole movie was flawed to begin with and through these changes you get a story about three people with a mountain of expectations thrust upon them. They aren't Light, Misa, and L. That's the point. If you want these three you should watch the Anime.  ~~~~

A week goes by and the two have already filled ten pages through an assortment of different methods of death.

"According to recent chat logs the general populous think Neo Kira based in New York though a popular theory is that they're based out of Greenland. Okay hand me the book I'll start to focus there. draw their attention their."

"No. If we start to bring attention towards one area in particular it'll let people know that we're onto them."

"What does your dad think?"

"My dad thinks Kira is nuts. He and two other officers are apparently trying to catch Kira."

It's then we cut to James (Light's dad) as he enters his office and sees that it's been trashed. James sighs. "Arata!" A younger man appears. 

"They got you too, huh sir?"

"Chief Turner! There's a visitor here to see you! He says he has information on the Neo Kira case." Another man comes over to see James.

"Thank you Philip, bring him in."

Philip goes and returns with an older man dressed in a trench coat and a fedora. He holds up a silver laptop and a fancy white L on a black screen appears. 

"Chief turner! My name is L." A distorted voice cheers. "I'm here to offer my assistance."

"Why are you coming to me?"

"Because you're the only one who believes that Kira is back as well as being brazen and open that he is evil."

"What would we need to do?"

~~~~

You guys may wonder why I added two original characters. Arata is supposed to be a Matsuda stand in and Philip is just supposed to fill out the rest of the motif I'm working with. Chess pieces.

Light and L are the kings because they are both cowards that are spurred to make moves.

Mia and Watari are the "Queens" because they actually do physical stuff but have very little say in what actually goes on.

Arata is the Rook because I thought "Oh Rook. He's new he's the Rookie. Funny"

The name James has connections to the bible and God according to google. So Bishop because they also have connections to the bible and God.

And Philip means horse lover. That feels self explanatory.

~~~~

We cut back to Mia and Light chilling at home. They are watching the news when an emergency broadcast interrupts them. Several reporters are heard in the background.

"I'm sure you're all wondering who I am. My name is Landon Chef and I have been working with L on this investigation. It is in his expert opinion that these deaths are all coincidental. Kira is not back." The news report can be heard in the background as Mia and Light fight.

"Oh hell no!" She screams. She shoots up from the couch and grabs the notebook.

"Mia what are you doing?!" Light grabs the book.

"He's making a fool of us, Light. He's making a fool of Kira!"

"Don't be stupid! This is what they want!"

"Who care! Let's give them what they want!"

"Mia don't be stupid."

"No Light! We have to do this! For Kira! Kira is our god! He's my life, Light."

"Fine. Give me the book, I'll do it."

"I'm more than capable-"

"Give me the book! You want a new god of justice you'll get one! Now give. Me. The. Book."

She hands it over and he jots down the mans name.

Over in the police department the three men working with L look on in horror as their stand in dies. "I told you that they were in Seattle." L said over the computer.

Over the next few weeks the new Kiras continue to murder. The audience is greeted by a montage of the two killing people. Light writing down names and Mia doing the resaerch. We also see them back at their cult. Light starts to use his new name and Mia dies her hair blond. 

Then back at the police department we see that the three men are preparing to meet L face to face. 

"Hello Gentlemen. Please call me L. I'd prefer if we all used code names. After all we don't know what Kira is really capable of."

"Ehem." Watari clears his throat. "Don't give them to much lee way L."

"Sorry Watari."

"I'll be Rook. That's what most people call me anyways."

"Call me Kelpie."

"Chief." James said

"You can continue to call us L and Watari Respectively." L smiles.

"You probably want more sweets, don't you L?" Watari smiles but it's very clearly fake.

"No I'm..." Watari glares at L.

"...you know what? Sure."

~~~~

This seems a bit weird so but it would come up later in the story. I'm just going through a rough draft with some scenes to flesh out the story a bit. So basically this L is the fourth real L. This Watari was the third real L and was the successor to Near who died young. This Watari is very obsessed with the original L. So much so that he makes this new L dress like him (styling his clothes like how Near described him) and keeps him on the sweet heavy diet.

~~~~

After they meet L closes in on Mia and sends Watari to get information on her.

"And what's the purpose of that?" Philip questioned.

"Perry Ethan was found hanging from a tree with lacerations on his thighs and wrists. He didn't have a criminal record so I traced him back to where he lived and found out he's the step father of Mia Sutton. That’s actually how I found out where to trace the murders to.”

“You can’t go after Mia!” James protested.

“And why is that?” L asked

“Because she’s a good kid. She’s kind and caring and she’s kept my son out of trouble!”

“I’m sorry chief turner but Mia is our best bet at finding Neo Kira. If not her then someone close to her.”

“Does that mean my son’s going to be investigated.”

“If need be then yes. What would Watari say? Ah yes, he’s got a 42% chance of being connected to the murders.”

“I’m not going to sit by and watch as you accuse my son!”

“Then help us find Kira. If you believe that your son is innocent help us find other suspects.”

“…what would you have me do?”

“I need you to pull every file you have on the computer and put it on hard copy. The first Kira was the son of the police chief and he accessed classified documents through his father’s computer.”

“Right! You told us that a decade ago.” Arata said.

~~~~

Yeah so basically this Watari exposed Kiras’ identities and while most people were dissuaded from worshipping Kira. But as we know there were still small groups of people.

Mia is in custody and light comes to save her but she’s is just in holding and they haven’t officially arrested her. They have 48 hours to find evidence and arrest her or else she will be let go.

During this time Light and L finally meet. The next few scenes would be a cat and mouse chase. I’m kinda stupid and bad at writing that kinda stuff, so we’re going to skip that.

~~~~

Later on they choose to charge Mia and Light makes the very smart decision to mind control a criminal to walk into the police station and say that he (the criminal) is Kira and then control him to not speak for his stay at the police station. Eventually dying of a heart attack when he is let go. 

L is still convinced that Mia had something to do with it so she remains in custody.

Light starts to panic as Justice implores him to write down someone in the police station. He chooses the clerk who writes in his own blood that he is Kira reincarnated and that Mia is a stupid mortal woman who had nothing to do with the murders.

Despite this L (with the help of Watari) convinces everyone that the Perry Ethan incident still links Mia to the case.

Eventually Light starts to kill people on the other side of the world and they have to let Mia go.

some stuff happens and Light and Mia argue that what both of them did was stupid and Light storms off in a fit of rage.

~~~~

I’m just going to cut to the end.

~~~~

In a fit of rage Light makes several criminals challenge L. Him and L meet and Light asks Justice for the Shinigami eyes. He writes down L’s name as L tackles him and quickly writes down his and Mia’s names too.

Everyone mourns. Everyone moves on and there’s no need for a shitty sequel.

~~~~

Okay finally thoughts, I know that it’s not perfect but I really have no idea what to do with this.

I would like to expand the concepts I have about L and Light living in each of their predecessors shadows and how Light both relishes the attention and fame and power but cracks under the pressure, and L trying his best and failing over and over and how he’s in over his head, then ultimately winning in the end with the killings finally stopping. This was his justice to claim, Lionel Morgan’s view of justice.

It’s bad but I wanted to preserve and expand upon interesting concepts that I don’t think were fully explored by the writers. The shinigami pushing light. Him and Mia having a messed up romance. L being emotional over the lives he’s loosing. Light looking for power but not wanting to be a full on serial killer.

Anyway constructive criticism and questions welcome in the comments section. I’m a humble Druid who enjoys the mysteries the sea has to hold and instead of saying goodbye I’ll just wave. (Get it?) 👋

#death note #l lawliet #l death note #light death note #light yagami death note #ryuk #misa amane #misa death note #death note 2017

[newstfionline]

Friday, September 22, 2023

Behind all the speechmaking at the UN lies a basic, unspoken question: Is the world governable? (AP) At the United Nations, “multilateralism” is always the goal. Yet so is the quest for a coherent storyline that unites all 193 member states and their ideas. Those two holy grails often find themselves at odds when leaders gather each September at the United Nations—a construct whose very name can be a two-word contradiction. With the 21st century unfolding in all of its unimaginable complexities and conundrums, with fracture and fragmentation everywhere, can the world even be governed? “Yes, it can, but only in the sense that the world has ever been governed, including in this highly institutionalized and regulated world—that is, minimally,” Jeffrey Martinson, an associate professor of political science at Meredith College in North Carolina, said in an email. That truth becomes evident listening to the first two days of leaders’ speeches at the U.N. General Assembly this week. They are, to put it mildly, a global festival of competing wants and needs and complaints and demands—with climate and war and public health and inequality at the center of it all, but fragmentation and chaos ever-present.

Democracy vs. autocracy? (NYT) President Biden has made it a signature phrase of his administration: The world is engaged in “a battle between democracy and autocracy.” Biden’s phrase accurately captures the leading players in the core struggle for global influence today. The U.S., Japan, South Korea, Western Europe and a few other rich countries are healthy democracies on one side of the divide. Russia and China are autocracies on the other side. Many other countries, however, have not chosen sides. They are willing to work closely with both Washington and Beijing, depending on the issue. These countries tend to be flawed democracies (like Brazil, India, Israel and Nigeria) or autocracies (like Saudi Arabia and Vietnam). If the U.S. suggests that only democracies are welcome in its alliance, that alliance will shrink. “Defining the current contest as one between democracies and autocracies is a flawed strategy,” Walter Russell Mead, a foreign policy expert at the Hudson Institute, wrote in The Wall Street Journal this spring. “Abroad, this approach weakens America’s ties with key allies and exposes us to devastating charges of systemic hypocrisy.”

US Politics and Money (Pew Research Center) A new survey found Americans have serious misgivings about American politics, with 65 percent saying they feel exhausted when thinking about politics and just 16 percent trusting the government some or most of the time. That said, they have the solution: 85 percent said that the cost of political campaigns make it hard for good people to run for office, 84 percent said that special interest groups and lobbyists have too much say in politics, 72 percent backed laws that would limit campaign spending and 58 percent backed laws that would reduce the role of money in politics.

American Labor’s Real Problem: It Isn’t Productive Enough (WSJ) For the United Auto Workers, it makes perfect sense to demand more pay and better work-life balance from Detroit’s three automakers. After all, workers throughout this historically tight labor market are getting exactly that. But what makes sense to striking factory workers makes no sense for manufacturing as a whole. Pay is ultimately tied to productivity: the quantity and quality of products a company’s workforce churns out. And here, American manufacturing companies and workers are in trouble. Since 2009, manufacturing output per hour in the U.S. has grown just 0.2% a year, well below the economy as a whole and peer economies in Europe and Asia, except Japan. In motor-vehicle manufacturing, the picture is especially bad: From 2012 through last year, productivity plummeted 32%, though some of this was no doubt due to pandemic disruptions. The Big Three carmakers have been losing market share for years, to imports, and to nonunion U.S. plants. They account for just two of the 10 most dependable brands ranked by J.D. Power and just one of the 10 best cars picked by Consumer Reports.

Haiti wants foreign help against the gangs. The details worry all sides. (Washington Post) It’s been almost a year since Prime Minister Ariel Henry appealed to the international community for a “specialized armed force” to bring stability to a country asphyxiated by gang violence and interlinked humanitarian crises. Now, after several countries declined to lead such a force, Kenya has said it’s considering taking the helm, and diplomats this month are drafting a resolution to present to the U.N. Security Council. But as officials negotiate details, there remain debates about which countries should staff it and what it should do, as well as concerns that it not repeat the mistakes of interventions past. The U.N. mission from 2004 to 2017 achieved mixed results against Haiti’s armed gangs. The military component of the mission, led by Brazil with troops from more than 20 countries, is remembered largely for alleged rights abuses, sexual assaults and a cholera outbreak that killed more than 10,000 people, poisoning Haitian trust in the institution.

The undercover abuses of British police (Guardian) In 1985, Bob Lambert, an officer with London’s Metropolitan Police Service, spent the weekend as off-duty officers often do, at home with his wife and two children in the leafy region where he lived. On Sunday evening, he said he had to work and left the house. His family had no idea that Lambert would drive straight to a maternity ward to witness the birth of his son with Charlotte, an animal-rights activist. Charlotte, for her part, was under the impression that Lambert was an activist himself; to her, he was Bob Robinson. Over the next couple of years, he seemed to Charlotte a devoted father. But then he disappeared without a trace. It would take until the child was twenty-six for him to discover that his father was actually Bob Lambert—an undercover officer tasked with infiltrating political groups. Lambert is one of more than a hundred undercover officers who infiltrated social movements in the UK from 1968 onward, with the goal of generating intelligence about planned protest actions. In numerous cases, officers are reported to have had sexual relationships with activists—Lambert himself allegedly did so with at least four women—and in at least four cases they allegedly fathered children. Starting in 2011, news of this mass deception broke. It became known as the “spy cops scandal,” and led, in 2014, to the launch of an ongoing public inquiry into police abuses. The Met currently has over a thousand officers suspended or on restricted duties.

Poland to stop sending weapons to Ukraine over grain fight (Washington Post) Poland will no longer send weapons to Ukraine, Prime Minister Mateusz Morawiecki said Wednesday, sharply escalating a battle over grain exports that has driven a wedge between Kyiv and one of its strongest supporters in the fight against Russia’s invasion. Russia has targeted Ukraine’s vital agricultural sector, disrupting transit routes in the Black Sea. That has left Ukraine desperate for other export routes, but also prompted Poland and other neighboring countries to impose an import ban, aiming to protect their farmers from the market being flooded with low-cost Ukrainian grain. Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky caused fury in Warsaw on Tuesday when, during his speech to the United Nations General Assembly in New York, he insinuated that Poland was playing into the hands of Russia. He accused “some in Europe” of feigning solidarity in “political theater” and creating a “thriller from the grain.” Rather than sending weapons to Ukraine, Warsaw will now focus on arming itself, Morawiecki said in a Wednesday evening interview with Polsat News.

Talks have opened on the future of Nagorno-Karabakh as Azerbaijan claims full control of the region (AP) Representatives from Nagorno-Karabakh and the Azerbaijan government are meeting for talks Thursday to discuss the future of the breakaway region Azerbaijan claims to fully control following a military offensive this week. Nagorno-Karabakh authorities and the Azerbaijan State News Agency say the talks Thursday between regional leaders and the Baku government will focus on Nagorno-Karabakh’s “reintegration” into Azerbaijan. The talks come after local Armenian forces in Nagorno-Karabakh agreed to lay down their weapons following the latest outbreak of fighting in the decades-long separatist conflict. Azerbaijan President Ilham Aliyev trumpeted victory in a televised address to the nation, saying that his country’s military had restored the region’s sovereignty. Protesters rallied in the Armenian capital of Yerevan for a second straight day Wednesday, blocking streets and demanding that authorities defend Armenians in Nagorno-Karabakh.

Biden and Netanyahu Meet to Try to Soothe Tensions (NYT) For the first time since Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu of Israel returned to office last December, he and President Biden met face to face on Wednesday in a session that both soothed and aggravated tensions between the leaders. By ending his informal moratorium on in-person contact with Mr. Netanyahu, Mr. Biden showed he was prepared to overlook personal frustrations with the prime minister’s domestic policies in favor of furthering international projects of mutual U.S.-Israeli interest: blocking Iran from building a nuclear weapon and establishing formal relations for the first time between Israel and Saudi Arabia. But comments by Mr. Biden, made before the meeting, made clear that the relationship remains thorny. He voiced measured criticism of Mr. Netanyahu’s efforts to reduce the power of Israel’s Supreme Court, which have set off one of the worst domestic crises in Israeli history. Mr. Biden also pushed Mr. Netanyahu to preserve the possibility of creating a Palestinian state, implicitly criticizing several recent moves by Mr. Netanyahu’s government to entrench Israeli control of the West Bank.

Tensions ‘beginning to boil’ in Gaza as fears of new conflict mount (Washington Post) As Palestinians in the nearby West Bank have endured their deadliest year in decades, it has been a rare summer of quiet—in the Gaza Strip. Raed Asad hoped he could finally secure a permit to work on an Israeli farm or construction site. But in late August, Israel put a halt to new work permits—accusing Hamas, the Islamist militant group that governs this blockaded territory, of being behind terrorist attacks in the West Bank. Hamas and Israel traded familiar threats. In Gaza’s latest lurch between calm and chaos, Asad saw his long-shot chance vanish. Fears of another military escalation have continued to build this month. On Sept. 4, after Israeli border agents found what they said was a cache of explosive materials being smuggled into the country in a shipment of blue jeans, officials shut down all exports from Gaza. Neither side wants to return to a full military confrontation, security experts said, but both need to demonstrate resolve to appease hard-liners. In Gaza, the next war never feels far off. “It has been quiet, but it is beginning to boil,” Basem Naim, head of Hamas’s Political and International Relations Department, said in an interview with The Washington Post. “There is a lot of pressure under the water.”

Congo’s president wants the U.N. peacekeeping mission to start leaving the country this year (AP) Congo’s president wants the world’s second largest United Nations peacekeeping force to move up its departure from the country, starting this December, saying it has failed to rein in conflicts in the country’s east. President Felix-Antoine Tshisekedi in an address to the annual United Nations gathering of world leaders on Wednesday accused the 17,000-strong peacekeeping mission of being unable to confront the conflicts in eastern Congo that are “tearing apart” the central African nation. Moving up the start of the peacekeeping mission’s “accelerated retreat” by a year, from December 2024, will help ease deadly tensions in the region, said the president. Eastern Congo, far from the capital, has long been overrun by dozens of armed groups seeking a share of the region’s gold and other resources. Some have been quietly backed by Congo’s neighbors.

Military lost and found (Foreign Policy) First came the United States’ missing F-35 fighter jet. Now, Israel is joining in on the lost-and-found military fun. Israeli officials are struggling to determine how a Merkava 2 tank disappeared from a training zone in the coastal city of Haifa on Wednesday and reappeared in a junkyard hours later.

#headlines #news

[ajsthoughtsandthings]

Social Media VS. The News — How People Stay Informed of Current Events 

Facebook, Instagram, TikTok, Twitter and more. 

There seems to be a social media app to fit every preference. With the global social media industry valued at 49.09 billion USD in 2022, it's fair to say social media is everywhere. 

These platforms are an integral part of our daily lives and have become a primary source of staying informed about the ongoings of the world around us, as 53% of U.S. adults get their news from social media. 

According to the Pew Research Center, social media sites like Facebook, YouTube, and Twitter are the three top social platforms people regularly get their news from. 

But why are people getting their news on apps made to stay connected with friends, be entertained, and maybe find an inspiring decor or recipe idea rather than a proper news outlet? 

Introduction to the Two Step Flow Theory

To answer that question, I'm going to introduce you to the Two Step Flow Theory. 

This theory is a communication framework that explains how people form opinions based on mass media messages. While earlier theories —like the Magic Bullet/Hypodermic Needle Theory — believed the media was highly responsible for shaping people's and society's opinions by inserting messages into their heads, the Two Step Flow Theory shares this credit with opinion leaders as well. 

According to Mr. Sinn's YouTube video on the Two Step Flow Theory, public opinion forms through two steps. First, mass media shares a message that then reaches opinion leaders. These opinion leaders are active in the media, taking this information, interpreting it, and sharing it with their followers. 

Mr. Sinn shares that these opinion leaders can look like influencers or talk show hosts, a.k.a; people we regularly interact with online and trust. 

(Also, yes, I would advise watching the short but informative video linked above.) 

Image via The Two-Step Flow Theory | Media in Minutes | Episode 2

Navigating a Maze of Information.

Humans are social creatures, so I guess it makes sense we like to find, share, and ponder information about the world around us in a community-enriched setting like social media. 

I also get much of my news from opinion leaders through avenues like YouTube and TikTok. Not only is it convenient time-wise, as I'm not waiting for a show or program to start on TV, but I also get to hear from people who speak in a way that resonates with me. 

Still, I rely on traditional news videos and articles to support information I have found online. 

If the message is more fact-based without less likelihood of biases impacting how the information is shared — say something about the natural world or a scientific finding —I might read one or two articles to back up the information. 

However, if the information is about a topic that's highly debated, politicized, or is often related to biased or bigoted views, I usually read a few articles from various sources to get a more nuanced idea of the situation. 

At The Speed of Social Media

When living in a world where news travels faster than light (not literally), it is important to vet information through multiple sources. 

It's a common complaint that one can't trust specific news channels because of biases. Still, this worry doesn't apply only to traditional news outlets. 

The reality is we're getting our information from people either way, and social media is known for facilitating the spread of misinformation. In fact, research done by Yale indicated that social media's reward platforms facilitate this spread. 

So, while it might feel daunting to sift through all this information, it is crucial. With the amount of media we consume daily, I doubt anyone can be perfect at researching every piece of information they hear before internalizing or sharing it with others. 

But we can continue trying to be responsible media consumers and keep learning along the way. 

[bindtorturekillme]

Your Eyes, Vacant & Stained

Ch.4 - 5k

Pairing: Frank Iero x Gerard Way

A handful of loud snapping sounds came from nearby, "Uh… guys?" Ray's voice sounded panicked.

"Yeah?" Gerard yelled back, Frank checked the mirrors but didn't see anything.

"The house with the red shutters!" Frank saw Ray pointing towards a house.

Warnings 

Gore, Death, Murder, WORK-IN-PROGRESS, not completed (and chapters unknown) but I know the ending, trust me guys I will write it, I just need people to love this idea with me, Zombies, Gay, mcr??

Support my AO3 with part four otherwise, enjoy ♥

Chap.1 | Chap.2 | Chap.3 | Chap.5 | Chap.6 | Chap.7 | Chap.8 | Chap.9 |

The truck could only fit two comfortably, three if they squeezed, Ray and Mikey decided to take the trunk since they were both large in the shoulders. The roads were far from clear on the way to their next city, Gerard called it Mesq “With a Q”. He spoke with an accent that sounded like a cowboy impersonating a French man that made Frank laugh.

They drove slowly through large pile-ups, around bodies and potholes. Frank hung his arm out the window while Gerard drove. They didn’t come across many undead that were still walking, but when they did, Ray or Mikey would usually wind up their bats and spike their heads. Frank’s gut twisted every time one’s head blew up, he wasn’t able to comprehend how they were so okay with murder.

He checked his phone over and over again, but there were no new notifications. Frank wasn’t the type of person who was on social media, he barely gave anyone his phone number. But it was over forty-eight hours since he was in contact with anyone he knew, so he had forced himself to reach out. If Gerard was telling the truth, New Jersey wouldn’t have been hit yet, The Virus was barely into Utah. 

His first outgoing text was to a group chat he created with his parents and brother, at first he had no idea what to even say to them. He wasn't the type to reach out, but he told them he would let them know when he got back from this trip, which was supposed to be the previous day. He texted them as the group was piling their stuff into the truck. Frank sat in the passenger side with his duffle at his feet. He stared at the phone for a long time, typing up whole texts just to hate them and delete it all. Eventually, he settled with “Got caught up, not sure when I'll be back. Get to safety, if you’ve heard about the zombies, they’re real.” Now, they’d been driving for almost an hour and he hadn’t heard anything back. Frank gnawed at his lip but shoved his phone back into his pocket, attempting to push away the thought of his family.

Gerard glanced over casually, his sunglasses hid it from Frank. The handful of CD’s Frank discovered in the truck earlier didn’t satisfy Gerard, but he always kept two albums with him, he expressed they are "essential to him no matter the circumstances"; The Smashing Pumpkins’ Mellon Collie and Nirvana’s In Utero. They weren’t Frank’s favorite, but he didn’t judge. He wondered whether or not the music choice was why Ray and Mikey offered Frank the front.

Besides the numerous pile-ups everywhere, the skies were clear, the desert stretched far and the mountains cooked in the sunlight. As they drove, the trees got thicker and grass began to cover the ground. They drove almost an hour and a half before seeing the city sign they were looking for. They slowed down in front of it. A truck has driven through half of the sign, leaving just M-E-S-Q. Frank wondered if Gerard had scouted up here without him knowing, when he checked the map on his phone, it said they were in a city called Mesquite, but he continued to refer to it as Mesq, mimicking Gerard's bad accent every time.

A church had finished burning to their left, all that was left was charred pews, blackened ceiling beams had smashed into the confessionals and steeple. The giant marble crucifix with Jesus was still standing, though blacked from the smoke. A green field began to spread in front of them on the opposite side. Gerard had slowed as they drove into the city. A burning police car was turned over in the middle of the street they were following with more cars on either side like a barricade, bodies were everywhere, a semi was tipped over, crushing a few cars, a patch of cacti and more body parts. Between each mountain pass, Frank was able to see they followed a river and before long the mountains fell.

“I think we made it…” Frank’s low voice reached out the window to Ray and Mikey in the bed. 

Ray turned his head in towards the truck's back window, “Guys, is that a golf course?” 

Gerard chuckled menacingly, “I think you might be right!” He sped the car up, Frank gripping the handle above his door. Mikey got off his butt and started squatting in the trunk, looking like a meercat making sure it's safe to keep going, while Ray used his arm to hold on to the frame around them. Gerard swerved around some bodies but drove over ones that were macerated and unrecognizable. 

They followed the golf course until it ended, then they took the first ramp off highway 15 and quickly found the entrance to the course. The course reminded Frank of the hotel he woke up in. It wasn’t free from bodies and blood but there was a lot less dead here than the last few cities he'd gone through.

“Okay, before we settle here, we’re going to drive around a little bit,” Gerard explained to everyone but mostly for Frank. “We scope the neighborhood out in the truck first, for an easier getaway. This truck is… louder than what we like but at least we can outrun them.” Frank nodded in understanding and Gerard went past the course.

They didn’t go too far, another church was surrounded by a neighborhood that spanned three blocks. They turned down a street and Gerard instantly noticed a half eaten woman who was being dragged by three dogs, the dog's leashes were tied to her wrist, “I don’t think we’re in a safe-zone anymore…” Gerard grumbled.

Frank had his chin resting against the open window as he watched the zombies stand around, fumbling in their yards, he even noticed some inside the windows just staring at their tv’s that still aired reruns of pre scheduled shows. Occasionally one would notice they were driving past and Ray or Mikey would have to wind their bats up again. Ray made a joke about mailboxes and zombie heads feeling the same against a bat, but Frank’s ears were ringing as Rape Me by Nirvana played for the nth time. It wasn’t loud, but to Frank it sounded like the volume was on max.

Frank’s ears rang more, the truck's buzz was gone and he saw black fuzz around his vision again. Kurt Cobain’s voice moaned “rape meeee…… rape meeeee, again……….”, the louder his voice became, the more muffled it sounded. Eventually Kurt’s repeated screaming made Frank feel like he was at a bad house party, trapped in the bathroom while the music pounds at the door. A memory attempted to form, but Frank fought back. As his vision blackened slightly more, he whipped his head up and around to look at Gerard. Gerard wasn’t singing anymore, he definitely didn’t look relaxed. 

The bathroom Frank felt trapped in shrunk and his breathing got hard. Claustrophobia suddenly kicked in, Frank didn’t feel claustrophobic often, he knew he didn’t know how to handle it as his body grew hot and his head felt light. Anger bubbled in his chest like a cauldron about to boil over. He smashed the eject CD button and threw the CD down to Gerard’s feet. He turned back out the window, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath in while a thick gust of air blew into his face.

Crunching gravel prevented a silence from happening, and it happened too fast for Gerard to realize what was going on. Frank opened his eyes again and turned back to Gerard, he pretended not to notice Ray and Mikey also staring in at them. “Sorry. Sorry, I just- It- Ugh.” Frank took a deep breath. “We’ve listened to that song a lot.” Frank’s head hung. Ray and Mikey quickly turned their backs to them again.

“Hey,” Gerard stretched his arm out and grabbed Frank’s leg. “You’re safe with us, there’s only a couple of us left, we gotta stick together.”

The cruise ended early when the truck coughed. Every zombie at the six closest houses whipped their heads towards the truck. Gerard cursed under his breath and grabbed the wheel with both hands, the zombies began approaching quicker than before stumbling over their own feet, some dropped hard onto their faces as they ran. 

Frank frantically looked around in front of them, attempting to remember which way the golf course was. 

A handful of loud snapping sounds came from nearby, "Uh… guys?" Ray's voice sounded panicked.

"Yeah?" Gerard yelled back, Frank checked the mirrors but didn't see anything.

"The house with the red shutters!" Frank saw Ray pointing towards a house.

"A good couple of these houses have red shutters, dude!" Gerard hadn't noticed Ray pointing, but Frank moved to stick his head out the back window to see which house it was.

A pack of hunchback creatures on all four paws were creeping out of a nearby home. Most of their jaws were intact and drooling a mix of saliva and blood. The creatures seemed to be dog-like, but most had chewed off tails or ears, and some of their legs were swollen with muscle. They were a sickly ash-brown color with huge circular lesions all over their bodies that were most likely bites that got infected. One of the creatures was much larger than the rest, thick with muscle but still covered in lesions, this ones skin was drooping and slopping off onto the ground. This one was also missing it's entire snout, a weird array of teeth protruded from the chunk of meat that was left of his face.

Their eyes traced the truck as the group stared. Swollen bloodshot eyes with little white left, their irises almost glowed neon yellow at certain angles.

The ones that were able to snarled and snapped, Gerard had slowed the car unintentionally as he was distracted by the hyena-esc scene developing before them. 

“You guys never mentioned zombie animals!” Frank’s frantic voice cut Gerard back to real life. A zombie screamed as it slammed its arms against the hood of the truck, all of them had been so distracted with what was behind them, they didn't realize the zombies were closing in. Francis realized quickly he was trapped.

In one swift move, Gerard shook his head, grabbed the wheel with both hands and said, “We didn’t know about them, either” before smashing his foot into the gas pedal. The zombie on the hood slid off and Gerard turned the wheels around it, crushing it's legs and making the truck jump on one side.  

Frank fumbled with his phone to get a map up again, Ray was making frantic sounds behind him that he couldn’t make out while Mikey stayed virtually silent as he smashed the zombie from the hoods head and watched the hungry beasts barrelling down the road at us.

The houses all looked the same as they rounded the corner and Gerard turning down every random turn he could didn’t help. To them, it felt like an infinite loop until ever so often the sound of a loud smash and pop as one would get too close and Mikey would use its skull for batting practice. 

“Take a left!!” Frank’s arm shot up over Gerard’s vision. Gerard slapped his arm down, swerving off the road momentarily. 

“Where?!” 

“HERE!” Frank grabbed the wheel this time and twisted it, Gerard felt a slight burn and the whole truck tipped more as Mikey got onto his knees and nearly hung out the side of the truck bed. Frank looked out the back window, “Mikey, I know we’re in danger, but can you sit FOR FIVE MINUTES?!” His anger was bubbling up and he knew it was the lack of alcohol.

Mikey’s stern face, although emotionless, sent a cold chill down Frank’s spin when they finally met eyes. “Drive better, I’m the only reason you’re alive right now.” Mikey turned away without giving Frank a second thought, only making Frank’s alcoholic anger boil. Ray was incoherently yelling still as he smashed down two more zombie dogs that had attempted to bite him. 

The golf course began emerging from the horizon like a mirage and Frank began laughing with relief. Gerard looked over at him a couple of times, unsure of how to respond as he noticed Frank was silently weeping as he laughed. 

Gerard checked the rearview, Mikey and Ray had taken out a good few dogs, he could only see four left. Each of them were running at different paces, snapping at the wheels and the back bumper. The most muscular one was staying behind the pack, Mikey had been watching that one since the houses. When it wasn't the first to attack, Mikey became suspicious.

“Give me your gun.” Frank held his hand out to Gerard, who was frantically looking back and forth between the road and mirrors. 

“What?”

“Give me your shotgun!” Frank pointed at it.

“I can’t,” Gerard grabbed the gun and wiggled, it was seemingly stuck between his seat and the car door.

“You didn’t notice?!”

“We were driving for TWO HOURS!” 

“GUYS!!” The sound of a loud popping made Frank and Gerard stop and turn to Mikey. He smashed another dog down, now only three were chasing. Ray was waiting for his moment to hit another. “The golf building is open.” 

Gerard and Frank followed Mikey’s point to see a giant gate to an employee’s only parking lot was now totally open, tall brick fences protected the lot and two people stood just inside the gates. They were getting close, “You need to slow down!” Frank shouted, a splattering pop interrupted him and he winced. Only one dog was left. 

Gerard let up his foot and let the car cruise to a slower speed, the dog was bounding at them now, snarling disgustingly with saliva and blood splattering everywhere. Ray and Mikey both got onto their knees and readied their aim as the final dog came at them. The two bats greeted one another after a loud splattering pop, aluminum meeting wood, the wood splintered loudly.

The final dogs head was gone and it's body slumped. Gerard and Frank attempted to catch a glimpse of the dog when Ray screeched. The creatures legs continued to run. At first they slowed and nearly stopped, but they quickly started running in place as if it was still going after them. Then the body started to wiggly more and Ray yelled about needing to get moving.

They rolled up to the golf course parking lot, carts and RV’s were littering the space. A large gate that separated the lot from the street closed behind them.

Two women stood together in matching uniforms, guns held defensively towards the truck. The truck slowed and came to a stop right in front of them, the women stood motionless but the gate behind them creaked shut.

Gerard gave them a wide grin and energetic wave. As either girl walked around each side of the truck, they demanded everyone get out, drop their weapons and undress. With very little protest, the group complied. Ray and Mikey left their bats in the trunk and raised their hands as they hopped out, Gerard and Frank flashed the girls their weapons before placing them on their sits.

"Make sure the gun isn't stuck next time..." Frank whispered to Gerard as they were putting their weapons back. Gerard's face went red before they turned their backs to each other.

"No! Not out here!" One of the girls exclaimed, everyone turned to look and saw Ray was taking his shirt off in front of the shorter of the two girls. "Go inside." She hid behind one hand as she pointed forward into the garage with her gun. Ray slid his shirt back down, chuckling before starting forward. Each girl stood behind two of the guys with their guns to their backs.

The girls introduced themselves as Scarlet and Charlotte, both had been employees and working when the virus came through. Their uniforms looked clean enough minus a few bruises and some torn seams. They made the men strip to check for bites, “Our boss turned after he claimed he wasn’t bitten,” Scarlet huffed out as the group got their redressed.

“We knew we couldn’t trust him, we won’t be that dumb again.” Charlotte finished and both girls sneered together at the thought of their now-zombified boss. They kept their guns pointed at the group, but brought them back outside to grab their weapons.

When the girls first introduced themselves, they had to reassure the group they were not related. Although, to the guys, they looked as though they could be twins, they looked exactly the same yet completely different.

Scarlet was nearly a foot and a half shorter than Charlotte, Charlotte’s small but long arms resembled slender man whereas Scarlet's short, round body was closer to the Venus of Willendorf. Scarlet kept her hair long and blonde whereas Charlotte’s was short and very clearly dyed a bright red. Charlotte kept her face bare, Scarlet, although smudged, still had a full face of make-up with lashes still attached.

Charlotte led the group, Scarlet followed behind everyone, through a small lobby area, then a hallway and a few doors. A small grouping of cubicles had been dismembered and recreated into a good sized barracked room. They had two makeshift beds made out of two couches and a handful of loveseats. A mini-fridge still ran in the corner next to a floor fan that wasn’t on, they had dismembered some of the desks in order to cover more of the windows that faced outside much like what the guys had done at their warehouse.

Maybe this group getting bigger is a good thing... Frank's head swam as everyone filed into the room. It felt cramped even with Frank and Ray standing by the door.

Gerard and Mikey each found a hole in the blinds to peer through and saw the perfectly manicured green stretch for miles; they couldn’t see the end. The green also had a handful of zombified people lingering slowly, a couple golf carts were overturned, some with struggling and unmoving zombies stuck under them. 

“Oh hey, if you see the fat, old, bald man with the giant “fuck-you” hat, that’s our boss.” Scarlet chuckled, not holding back.

“Yeah, we weren’t really able to kill him…” Charlotte added, quietly.

“Well, how many are out there? There’s six of us now, I’m sure one moaner can’t take six of us.” Gerard wondered out loud innocently. 

“Well I can tell there’s more than-” Mikey began speaking when Charlotte and Scarlet busted out laughing.

“Did you just say MOANers?!” Charlotte howled, Scarlet held her stomach.

“I told him it was bad.” Frank interjected, Ray snickered next to him but covered his mouth with his hand.

“God, do most men only ever think with their dick?” Scarlet wiped a tear from her face.

“What do you mean?!” Gerard pulled from the window defensively, Mikey ignored him and continued to search outside.

“It sounds like boner!” Charlotte and Scarlet made each other laugh again.

“I told you.” Frank looked at Gerard who was red in cheeks but not backing down.

“Okay then what would you rather call them? Zombies like every other cliche?! Who even says they qualify as zombies?!” Gerard was throwing his hands around as he spoke.

“That's what they are!” Scarlet, Charlotte, and  Frank all said in unison causing Scarlet and Charlotte to start giggling. Frank didn’t take his eyes off Gerard, Gerard lingered on Frank so long he wondered what Gerard was thinking.

"They can't die unless you kill their brain, so," Scarlet began.

"What else do they need in order to "qualify as a zombie"." Scarlet and Charlotte air quoted in unison as Charlotte finished.

Ray leaned close to Frank's ear and whispered, "I know they said they aren't blood related but I'm starting to think they were one brain that was split between two robots." Frank covered his mouth as they giggled together, Gerard was too distracted by the girls to notice.

“Come on, there’s a million names we could use, do we need to use the sexy one?” Scarlet said.

“How is it sexy?!” Gerard defensively crossed his arms.

“Besides it rhyming with boners, it’s literally Moan. Moaners. Moan.” Scarlet mocked a moan as Charlotte explained.

“That. Is. The. Sound. They. Make.” Geoff overemphasized.

“Actually it sounds more like a gurgling, growling screech but-” Scarlet jumped in.

“Guys!” Mikey’s deep voice boomed off the small walls as he pulled away from the window. “Can we move on from this? Who cares what they’re called. They can't die unless we smash their entire bodies, actually, so we need to learn more about this virus before we should even care about what we call them."

“Smash their entire body...?” Scarlet started.

"Everyone, come here," Mikey moved back to looked out the window, eventually, after moving a desk, everyone was able to find a spot to look outside. A handful of people roamed aimlessly, bodies still wriggled under some turned over carts. It took a moment to find again but Mikey directed everyone's attention towards a creature on all fours, missing a head.

The creature was walking around, if it bumped into something, it would just turn towards a new direction and start aimlessly walking again until it hit something else.

"What... is... that..." Scarlet whimpered.

"Has anything had zombie dogs before?" Charlotte sounded panicked.

"A few things have, actually," Mikey told her, "but I've never seen a zombie continue to work after it's head has been decapitated."

"Is that the same-?" Ray trailed off, Mikey responded with a quick 'yup'.

Okay, so, we we all saw that things head explode, but it's still moving... Frank was going over every trope he could think of, "Maybe we need to burn the bodies?"

Gerard groaned. "If we need to burn their bodies, they might as well be braindead vampires."

"But they don't suck our blood." Frank argued.

"No, but they do still eat us." Mikey interjected. "So, we'll need to keep an eye on that." He pulled away finally and everyone copied. "We should become more acquainted if we want to work together." Mikey was so stoic and straight forward, Frank thought sometimes he was a robot, he never saw him even crack a grin.

How do you not cope with humor?

“Weeellll... This is where we sleep! And eat… and hide for most of the day.” Scarlet attempted to help Mikey move the conversation on. The creature was outside, therefore not an issue until they needed to go outside again. Frank and Ray had stepped back towards the door to eliminate the closeness from the window gazing.  

“But, we have another whole set of cubicles just a little farther down the hallway, we just haven’t been back there to do much.” Charlotte began walking out, Frank and Ray moved to let her through then followed close behind. 

The cubicles down the hall were disheveled and abandoned but there were no bodies and most of the blood that did plague the room was stained into the carpets and dried. 

“We don’t have much more for furniture…” Scarlet interrupted from the back of the group, each person slowly moving in. 

“But we can definitely probably break into one of those RV’s in the back.” Gerard was always looking for some way to commit a crime in a lawless land, Frank’s stomach twisted with excitement and hope for a real bed to sleep in. He wondered if they’d have to share RV’s, he couldn’t recall how many were in the lot when they pulled up since he was more concerned about the dogs that were chasing them then the guns being pointed at them. He hoped if they did have to share, he’d be able to convince Gerard to be with him. 

“Is there a reason you guys haven’t tried that yet?” Ray’s voice snapped Frank out of his daydream that almost went too far. Scarlet and Charlotte exchanged a nervous look and laugh before addressing the question.

“We just weren’t sure if those RV’s were clear of zombies or not so we figured it would be safer in here,” Scarlet began.

“Our boss was helping us, it was the three of us left, that’s how we have these.” The girls held up their weapons before Charlotte continued. “He had a bat, we just aren’t sure where it went… Before he turned, he asked us to…”

“Y’know,” Scarlet put her thumb to her throat before slicing across it. “So we brought him outside, thinking we’d keep the blood outside and not contaminate anything else in here. Right when we were about to do the deed,”

“We realized we totally forgot the gun.” When Charlotte took over again, Frank felt a pulse behind his eye and his whole skull cap THUMPed… THUMPed… “So we had to go back inside,”

“Find the guns,” Scarlet pointed out.

“Find the guns,” Charlotte reiterated dramatically. “Then go back outside,”

“And LITERALLY old yeller the guy. So, we head back outside, right?” 

“We round the corner where we left him and BOOM!” The four men each jumped at the same time as Charlotte yelled in their faces. 

“He’s totally gone.” Scarlet tightened her lips in disappointment. “So, obviously, we weren’t going to just sit outside and wait to be eaten.”

“HELL no. We came back in, hunkered back down in here and watched outside for a little bit before we saw him drag his ancient feet across the green.” The girls stopped talking, looking satisfied with their story.  

"Well." Ray broke the silence that lasted too long. "We can take care of him before we leave,"

"Are you guys thinking about leaving already?" Charlotte interrupted, looking around panicked.

"We don't have to come with you, but we need help getting our boss!" Scarlet pleaded.

"Yeah, we wanna at least fulfill his wish before we lose your help..." Charlotte added.

"We definitely aren't leaving yet," Gerard said. "And we aren't opposed to you guys coming with," Frank noticed Mikey roll his eyes and slump against a wall. "But, we'll definitely need a bigger car, so breaking into those RV's might be our only option..." Gerard pondered out loud while the two girls exclaimed excitedly together.

As soon as the room quieted down, Frank's stomach growled, he keeled over a little with embarrassment but they had not made enough food for him to get more before they left this morning. God dammit... Everyone turned to look at him.

"We'll go to the kitchen next." Scarlet walked out the door before anyone could say anything, and they all followed, twisting through only a couple doors. The kitchen was huge, bigger than the rooms they were sleeping in, and all of the appliances were stainless steel.

Multiple refrigerators and bread racks held buckets worth of food. Some prepped foods sat waiting to be put together, an entire parties worth of premade and wrapped dinners also took up most of one of the refrigerators. "We've basically been living off of these," Scarlet handed one up to Frank, he was the shortest one in the group but Scarlet made him feel tall, she barley made it to his chest with the top of her head.

He pulled the saran wrap off the plate to see a pile of mashed potatoes, a smaller pile of mixed vegetables, and three breaded pork chops laying neatly half off the last one. Scarlet continued to hand out the pre-made dinners to everyone, including Charlotte, who took two, most likely so Scarlet could eat as well. No one denied the food, Scarlet pointed to a set of three microwaves all stacked next to a bread baking oven that they all convened around as they warmed the food.

Over dinner, Gerard and Ray explained everything they knew about the virus to Scarlet and Charlotte much like they had to Frank the first night he was with them. This time Frank added his own story of how he woke up  in a hotel room with two of his dead coworkers, Charlotte 'aww'-ed but Frank shut it down saying he barley knew them, he was just afraid he had killed someone. He chuckled at himself but no one else responded how he thought they would, he cleared his throat  and got up, putting his plate into a sink that already had a few empty plates it in, left them there as they continued the conversation.

#grank #mcr #frerard #frank iero x gerard way #frerard fanfic #frerard fanfiction #frank iero x gerard way fanfic #bandfiction #grank fanfiction #mcr fanfic #mcr fanfiction #mine

[jdgo51]

Tuesdays with Jesus

Today's inspiration comes from:

Meant for Good

by Megan Fate Marshman

"'For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."' — Jeremiah 29:11

"'I was at the gas station, staring off into the distance while the tank filled. The thought flitted across my mind, “It’s Tuesday…” and I remembered that I hadn’t asked Jesus to come with me. The realization washed over me. Leaving Jesus in the armchair in my living room was more of a common occurrence in the rest of my week than I’d like to admit. I left Jesus at home and just about everywhere else. Sometimes I left Him in the pews at church or at a Starbucks table, or in the prayer at dinner time. I acknowledged Him where I expected to see Him… and where other people expected me to see Him. Did He belong at a gas station on a Tuesday morning? He would have gone anywhere with me, even the places He didn’t seem to fit. I just didn’t invite Him.

Tuesdays reminded me that I needed to take Jesus with me everywhere.

Those Tuesdays with Jesus transformed me. Not only did I develop a habit of talking about Jesus, I became more confident talking with Him. What was most surprising was when I became more confident in my ability to listen to Him. What did He say, you ask? Well, turns out, Jesus has no tolerance for those negative thought spirals. I’d start dogging on myself for something, like being late for a meeting or distracted with my family, and He’d say, “Megan, you have a choice. You can either continue feeling guilty or be grateful for awareness.” Truth is, He wasn’t very sentimental about it. Or in the aftermath of a mistake, I’d consider His character and imagine Him saying something like: “You’re not perfect, but you’re Mine!”

I needed to take Jesus with me everywhere The conversations went a lot like this: He’d remind me that I belonged to Him. Again and again, He affirmed my identity as His. And then He’d point me toward someone else who needed to know it too. Pretending to see Him next to me changed the way I heard from Him.

In my new awareness of His presence, I could discern His nudges. I could sense His elbows jabbing my side, making me less aware of myself and more aware of the people who needed to meet Him for the first time or needed to be reminded that He was with us. There were plenty of times when I wanted to ignore Him, and, honestly, many times when I did. But I’d look over at Him after the moment of obedience had passed, and realize that He had more chances for me, continually offering opportunities to step into His plans. Slowly but surely, I became aware of the fact that Jesus not only wants to speak, He wants to speak into every area of our lives. He wants a say in how we act, share coffee conversations, sometimes even dictate what or whom we listen to as we drive.

Tuesdays with Jesus reminded me that He is present — always. And His presence prompted me to listen."'

Rich Ferreria was the first person I ever heard share stories from spending time with an imaginary Jesus. Thanks for the life-changing idea, friend. Jesus shows up at a Pharisee party and calls the host out on not inviting the poor (Luke 14:12–14). He also shows up at the parties of tax collectors and sinners (Mark 2:13–17). And who could forget that wedding at Cana where he turned water to wine (John 2:1–11)?

Excerpted with permission from Meant for Good by Megan Fate Marshman, copyright Megan Fate Marshman.

[huarens]

duuuuuuude.

#i have all this time #and absplutely no motivation to write #like during school? #pew pew new ideas everywhere #id write until my hand was DONE #now? #my brain threw up a peace sign n ditched me. #i jus want to be a consistent writer wtf

[femsolid]

"We don’t even allow non-humans to escape our perception of the world as overwhelmingly male: when researchers in one study attempted to prompt participants to see a gender-neutral stuffed animal as female by using female pronouns, children, parents and carers still overwhelmingly referred to the animal as ‘he’. The study found that an animal must be ‘super-feminine’ before ‘even close to half of participants will refer to it as she rather than he’. To be fair, it’s not an entirely unreasonable assumption: often it really is a he. A 2007 international study of 25,439 children’s TV characters found that only 13% of non-human characters are female (the figure for female human characters was slightly better, although still low at 32%). An analysis of G-rated (suitable for children) films released between 1990 and 2005 found that only 28% of speaking roles went to female characters – and perhaps even more tellingly in the context of humans being male by default, women made up only 17% of crowd scenes. Men don’t just have more roles, they also spend twice as much time on screen – this rises to nearly three times as much when, as most films do, the film has a male lead. Only when the lead is female do men and women appear about as often as each other (as opposed to women getting, as you might expect, the majority of screen time). Men also get more lines, speaking twice as much as women overall; three times as much in films with male leads; and almost twice as much in films with male and female co-leads. Again it is only in the few films with female leads where male and female characters drew even on screen time. This imbalance is found not just in films and TV. It’s everywhere.

So widespread is this cultural bias towards representing men that the makers of the classic sci-fi action game series, Metroid, relied on it when they wanted to surprise their users. ‘We wondered what would surprise everyone and talked about removing [main character] Samus’s helmet. Then someone said, ‘It would be a shocker if Samus turned out to be a woman!’ they recalled in a recent interview. And to make sure everyone really got it, they put her in a pink bikini and hip-jutting pose. Metroid was – and remains – something of an outlier in gaming. Although a 2015 Pew Research Center report found that equal numbers of American men and women play video games, only 3.3% of the games spotlighted at press conferences during 2016’s E3 (the world’s largest annual gaming expo) starred female protagonists. This is actually lower than the figure for 2015 which, according to Feminist Frequency, was 9%.!If female playable characters do make it into a game they are still often framed as just another feature. At E3 2015 the director of Fallout 4, Todd Howard, revealed how easy it was to switch between male and female playable characters – only to switch back to the male version for the rest of the demo. As Feminist Frequency remarked when they released their data on E3 2016, ‘heroes are male by default’.

When adventure video game series Assassin’s Creed announced in 2014 that it would not be possible to play as a female assassin in their new cooperative multiplayer mode, some male players were pleased with the decision. Playing as a woman would alienate them from the game, they argued. Journalist Sarah Ditum has little time for this argument. ‘Come on now,’ she chided in a column. ‘You’ve played games as a blue hedgehog. As a cybernetically augmented space marine. As a sodding dragon-tamer. [. . .B]ut the idea that women can be protagonists with an inner life and an active nature is somehow beyond your imaginative capacities? Ditum is of course technically right. It should be easier to imagine yourself as a woman than as a blue hedgehog. But on the other hand she’s also wrong, because that blue hedgehog has one particularly important similarity with male players, even more so than species alignment, and that is that Sonic the hedgehog is male. We know this because he isn’t pink, he doesn’t have a bow in his hair, and he doesn’t simper. He is the standard, unmarked gender, not the atypical one."

- Invisible Women, Caroline Criado-Perez

#media #quote #mp #video games #invisible women

[hazzabeeforlou]

It’s Easter and I’ve just read part 2 of The Garden and it was genuinely a spiritual experience. I was raised Catholic and as I’m sure you know, God is terrifying. As a scared child in church I found a lot of comfort in Mary, Mary Magdalene and Jesus as humans, but various factors including living as a queer person have made me isolated from my faith for a few years now. I used to dream about Jesus in the Garden and feel so much empathy for him but He’s been made into such a cold judging figure by the church, I couldn’t understand why no one else saw how lonely He was. It’s so stupid because it’s a fanfiction about a boyband but I feel closer to Jesus than I have done in over 10 years. I can’t even begin to articulate how I’m feeling, this whole ask doesn’t do it justice, but I feel like He’s been properly honoured by your fic.

PHEW nony! I had to pull out my laptop for this one, and forgive the novel in advance. I saw this and immediately started crying. It just so happens I’ve been thinking of these very things incessantly, rolling them over in my mind for weeks now, and (stay with me) that’s to do with the fact that I’ve been learning about folk magic.

A bit of backstory; as a child I loved ‘God,’ but he seemed so very different from Jesus to me. Catholics and Evangelicals both agree on the concept of the trinity, so I was supposed to think of Jesus and God as one, only God seemed cruel at times, and Jesus was kind and more approachable. I was only allowed to read Narnia as a child; those were the only ‘good magic’ books, so naturally I adopted the blatant metaphor of Aslan as Jesus and named my most treasured stuffed Lion Aslan (PITS readers, yes that’s where the lion’s name came from). I also invoked the name of Jesus constantly at night in the dark, because once, while at a sleepover, I was told that just saying that name out loud would scatter the demons that played tricks on my mind in the dark. Understand that I’ve been seeing things since I was little, and the only explanation I was ever given for this was that demons were trying to scare me. I was petrified of the dark, but the name of Jesus seemed to work.

Even before my revelations during college, my turn with atheism, and my rejection of my conservative/fundamentalist brainwashing, I distrusted the church and the power figures in it. Due to a minor scandal in my church when I was 9, my family switched churches and everyone I’d grown up thinking was perfect and blameless became tainted. I understood how churches made people come in to get money. Maybe it was a gut instinct, maybe it was providence, but I felt god more in the wind, in the treetops, in a rainstorm, not sitting on a pew wearing dresses baggy enough to hide my boobs. There was always this part of me that divorced the idea of Jesus and god from the church.

But when my college-age ‘religion is the opiate of the masses’ faze came, the baby got thrown out with the bath water; how could I reject the dogma of fundamentalism yet not the deities they worshiped? So I tried going full atheist. There is nothing out there, we are alone, this life is it. And you know what? I fucking FELT alone. I hated it. I would cry myself to sleep begging god to show himself if he was real. This went on for YEARS. It was only after my surgery that things began to change. I think… even though this is super traumatic to accept, I think I was put through all the pain of that surgery and (ongoing, chronic) recovery because I’d spent all those nights crying out for a revelation. And this was the way it had to come.

I found myself trying everything to get rid of my pain. This led me to a ‘visceral therapist,’ L, who had her home covered in walls of crystals. I had been warned about New Age people while in the church, so I had every doubt about her. But after one session, for a brief few hours, I had NO PAIN. It was the first time in six months I’d stood without agony. She had angel pictures everywhere and talked about God’s white light, and I tried not to think too much about that.

I started finding crystals next. The first one I found proved to be the most important. I was holding it out on its chain one night when it started moving. I fucking freaked out and threw it down; I’d seen L do dowsing before, but I was terrified of doing it myself. Where did this power come from? Did that mean there were powers out there? Demons? This was witchcraft, and I only knew about that practice in the context of Wicca/New Age. I was also very wary of delving into ANY established practice/religion, or listening to any one way of thinking, because how could I trust that it was true? How could I know it wouldn’t just be like the lies of the church all over again?

I plodded on for a few years, using crystals to help my pain, placing them in the moonlight, burning scraps of paper with intentions on them and bits of old hair. I started to see things, and I freaked myself out and decided that maybe I was just crazy. Maybe atheists were right; maybe this was all a hyperactive brain. So I went on those pain meds I’ve mentioned before, and for two years, I saw nothing. I could still dowse, but it’s like one part of my brain had shut off. This of course reinforced the idea that I was just insane, and I still struggle with that. But I’ve come to peace with several realizations and they are as follows:

Humanity as a whole, every single indigenous culture, has practiced worship. Not magic, not religion, as we have defined these words for a western gaze, but worship. Of nature. Of deities. Of spirits. They have had wise people and seers and healers and this wasn’t a separate thing removed to brick buildings with pews, it was how they lived and breathed and belonged in community together. I think it’s naive to discount the entire experience of humans because these ‘beliefs’ can’t be given a mathematical equation. So I made peace with the fact that MORE exists. I also made peace with the idea that deities, spirits, they don’t just have one name, and I think, though this revelation was new to me, it was implanted very early in my mind by the Last Battle (and as problematic as Narnia is, it’s also so VERY pagan, so much so the Christianity in it only really serves to bring it past the threshold of fundamentalist houses lol). And this explanation also helps me to understand how colonized people both adopted the religions forced on them but still worshiped their own gods? And here’s where I get to folk magic. I’m still learning about it, but basically it’s specific to cultural heritage. So Germanic folk magic would be a mixture of pre-Christian paganism and Catholicism, the blending of the two, the veneration of saints that used to be Demi-gods, etc. The names change, but that doesn’t matter. The Virgin Mary is the Mother. Jesus…who knows who he was in every culture, every name, but that’s how I know him, and he’s real to me. (There’s a whole other discussion of the individualism of Wicca/New Age types beliefs and the divorcing of them from any cultural root which lends them towards reinforcing anti-collectivist ideas and can lead to the alt-right/wellness/ws supremacy pipeline we saw happen during the pandemic’s early stages… but that’s another novel)

And here’s my point, at last; the Jesus I always knew, that comforted me, that took the fear from the darkness, he was always good and kind and beautiful and I knew him by this name and I’m sure he has many others, but I can know him now, free of the church, free of fundamentalism. So your asks makes SO much sense to me. This Jesus has always been there for you. No church or religion own the deity you have loved and called by this name, and I’m so fucking thrilled my fic has helped you feel closer to that divinity, that spirit. I don’t have any of the answers by far and I know this was an entire fucking novel but does that make sense? I hope it does. Hugs to you nony and have a wonderful night <3

#Very long fucking post #Anonymous #The Garden #well that’s a lot of info on me lol rip

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 152

I’m not going to jinx it, I’m not going to jinx it, I’m not going to jinx it...

Okay, maybe I am. I managed to queue up the chapters I had in the barrel! Yay!! Which also means that I have a super duper exciting chapter coming up, which I can’t wait to write and can’t wait for y’all to read. I just need it to be perfect.

That said, thank you to @baelpenrose and @charlylimph-blog for your help with this particular chapter.  I love when we are all three in one of these sessions and just descending into chaos in the chat. Also, @mamayoda (who I can’t tag but I do want you to know I see your likes in my notes!) for love-bombing my notes recently.

“Is it just me or is everyone really jumpy?” Charly asked as I set my food down across from her.  It was our thrice-weekly lunch dates in one of the public mess halls, and she definitely had a point.  I had already noticed three people scowl distrustfully at the food consoles, hugging closely to the prepared food side of the room instead.

I sighed. “It has to have been Derek’s stress test.  It wasn’t supposed to impact systems we didn’t design, but…”

She snorted loudly. “Tell that to the week I spent taking cold showers again.  At least this time, the doors didn’t play any music when I walked through them.”

“Did your doors at least open consistently? I was stuck in my quarters for a whole day until we figured out that I could walk through if I had an escort.”  I laughed and shook my head before digging in to my food. “And, come to find out, we actually do manage the water systems, thanks to BioLab 2.”

Contrary to myself, Charly was entirely unperturbed at this revelation beyond sniffing her hoodie and shrugging. “My doors worked fine as far as I know, but Coffey and I tend to work the same hours, so… Maybe that was it.  Oo!” Her cheer of enthusiasm caught me off guard as she started bouncing in her seat. “OOOOO! I bet he activated the routine Xiomara had running when you and Jokul weren’t friends yet!”

“There was a routine!?” I asked, exasperated. “I behaved, thank you. It wasn’t necessary.”

“Meh. Just in case. What do you think her deal is?” She tilted her head to the side, at a table near us.

Sure enough, the woman at that table was darting glances around the room, her shoulders hunched, elbows close to her body, eyes wide.  I could practically feel her shaking from where I was. “I can’t tell if she looks suspicious or afraid,” I murmured, hoping the woman couldn’t hear me. “But the fact that I’ve met mice and chihuahuas who shook less, I’m going to go with afraid.”

As I watched the woman, weighing whether or not a stranger trying to comfort her would make it better or worse, Mona’s familiar face approached her instead.  She was speaking softly enough that I couldn’t make out words, but the woman clearly recognized her and only jumped slightly.

I was so focused on the sight of Mona comforting the woman that I nearly hit the ceiling when Parvati’s voice came from entirely too close to my right shoulder. “Rebecca.  She lost her family twice, first her parents, some cousins, and an uncle when the hack happened, and then her partner and children in the After.  It’s understandable that she’s terrified right now, after the stress test. Too many bad memories.”

My face flushed in humiliation. “Pranav and Zach sent a ship-wide alert that the stress test was happening - “

A perfectly manicured hand clapped over my mouth, one dark eyebrow arched in eloquent disbelief. “Sophia. You of all people know that mental scars do not heed logic.”

Charly’s hair flew around her face as she nodded enthusiastically. “After day three of cold showers, I flinched every time I went through a door in case that stupid song started playing again, no matter how many times I reminded myself that it was a stress test and I had decidedly not given Derek boba tea again.”

Both my hands flew up in surrender. “I stand corrected, I just feel awful to see people react like that.” Gazing around the room, I was suddenly much more aware of all the darting eyes, protective postures, seats turned so that backs were against walls.

Charly had obviously seen the same thing. “We may need to talk to Pranav about limiting the tests to one or two systems at a time.”

“I wish we could,” I admitted, stabbing a potato out of my pie slightly harder than necessary. “His department was passing the tests with flying colors when Derek was limited to one or two systems at a time.  But they failed this last test miserably, it turns out.  As soon as they would react to one thing, Derek would switch to another system, and they couldn’t be everywhere at once as well as they convinced themselves that they could.  And they can’t just be good at small scale attacks: the revolt that happened before the End brought everything down at once, from multiple access points. It was… kind of elegant, in a terrible way.  Very clean.”

Charly squinted at me and Parvati in suspicion. “Are you supposed to know that they crashed and burned in the test.”

I rocked my hand back and forth while I chewed on a mouthful of crust.  It had way too much butter in it, but at least it was actually crust this time. A week ago it had been something pretty close to paper mache. “Technically we don’t officially know that.  Officially, all we know is that Pranav has requisitioned enough additional staff to increase his team of programmers by seventy percent.”

“Asses handed to them, got it,” Charly nodded in understanding.

“We also officially know that Pranav currently owes Hannah quite the enormous favor,” Parvati confided.

“How big?” Charly ventured slowly.

“Big enough that his grandchildren may be indebted to hers,” came the laughing response.

Charly shook her head and clucked her tongue. “He should know better than to bet against Derek.  He breaks the systems for fun, and they asked him to really go for it. What did they expect?”

“Apparently to put up a better fight at least.” I forced a smile, but guilt weighed on my heart as I studied the room again, fully seeing the microexpressions of anxiety, fear, and anger.  It felt like the entire Ark was constantly swinging between hope and fear. The random drills weren’t really helping, either.

“They aren’t,” Parvati agreed, letting me know that I had been thinking out loud. “Everyone is sleep deprived, on high alert, and then all of a sudden all the computer systems went on the fritz for a week.”

I sighed and rubbed my forehead, pushing what was left of my pot pie away from me, appetite gone. “We need to talk to Grey and Antoine about getting counselling for everyone, seeing as how Xiomara and Pranav pretty much just triggered the entire ship. I mean, everyone knows counselling is available, but I think allocating training and resources to the therapy teams is going to take priority over Pranav’s request for the moment.”

Charly tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Do we have the space for some quiet rooms, like you set up for the Food Festival a few years back? That may be a good idea.”

Snapping into work-mode, Parvati flicked her datapad open, bangles clattering as she started making notes. “The quarters left by those who relocated closer to the Archives are still uninhabited, those can be used.  We may be able to convince some people to relocate so we can spread the rooms out more evenly, but even if we can’t, just having those rooms available will help.”

“Make a note to add in the proposal for Grey: possibility of having specific vendors permitted to serve food in BioLab 2.  Encourage mental health days and picnics.”

Parvati nodded in acknowledgement of my request, before adding her own spin. “As a contingency plan, find vendors who will pre-package picnics.  Between the current distrust of the consoles and the fact it will remind everyone of the annual Festival, the good emotions will help.”

“I like it,” I confirmed. “What else?”

“Paintball tag day in the corridors,” Charly announced, without preamble or warning. “Make it a holiday, everyone is off work, limit it to one end of the Ark.”

I shook my head. “Guns, not the best idea.”

“Ew, no. No pew-pew.” She wrinkled her nose. “I was thinking more paint-soaked splash bombs.”

Finger guns deployed, dual wielding. “I am so here for a paintball tag day in that case.  The flavored paint?”

“Not the scotch bonnet please,” Parvati begged. “I just know someone will get that in the face, I don’t care how much Else likes it.”

“Got it, no more pepper spraying people,” Charly agreed seriously. “OOO! I could test the new arrows out!  With something like buttered popcorn paint, obviously. Maybe kiwi on the other team.”

“Just limit the pull on the bows, okay? I don’t want anyone getting hurt.”

“Fiiiiine…”

Parvati smiled and added to her notes. “So, we probably want someone to correlate the current date to whatever the date would be on Earth… Just in case we need to get a consultant for Holi.”

“Good point. Conor is alarmingly good at that, so I can ask him.  It would be a nice cultural event if we could do that. If not, we can totally work on celebrating Holi when it comes around.”

“Final suggestion for right now, because I have to get back to work,” I sighed happily. “This is going to be the biggest ask, and the smallest at the same time…” Both nodded at me to continue. “Care packages, for everyone. And I mean everyone on the Ark.”

“Sophia,” Parvati scolded me. “That’s almost ten thousand people and sixteen animal companions.”

“Well aware,” I forged on, “We’ll talk to Sam about the bows, I can wrap them. Commission some of those really nice chocolates, or maybe some taffy from Simon. And something salty.  I know there is someone on the Ark who makes aromatherapy candles, Tyche is bananas about them.”

Shaking her head, she added it to the list. “If you insist on that, I insist on a celebration for the drop out of FTL.  Hannah and I can use some of the plans from the Food Festival, include Charly’s paint tag - “

“And Kink Night!”

“- and Kink Night, apparently… have several events going on across the Ark, since we already discussed declaring a holiday.”

“Get Bash’s permission to use the Undine again, and I won’t object,” I surrendered before standing. “On that note, I really do have to get back to work.  Come on, Vati, we have work to do apparently.”

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#the miys #found family #humans are weird #science fiction #aliens #apocalypse #humans are space orcs #humans are space fae #earth is space australia #post apocalypse #post post apocalypse #original science fiction #original sci fi #original writing

[dumb-dumb-mander]

Okay okay, a while back, while showing the abandoned puzzle jump to a friend, I started to ramble about ideas "how to make Trahearne come back/stay" and said I would do a post about it

I never did

Until now !

Be aware that those ideas are made by a dude who has a bad memory and plays GW2 for not even 2 years, so bears with me !

Have fun with those absolutely disorganized ideas lovelies

⚠ Spoilers about everything

• I would start with an idea that popped in my mind because of the WIP of Mother-Alba (check the finished version here, because they deserve praise)

Okay so, Trahearne, kept captive by Mordremoth who implanted a seed in his deteriorated (/half transformed?) body

I really love the idea of Trahearne surviving with scars and not fully safe and sound for... reasons (another story for another time)

But what if, because of the seed and the Commander weakening Mordremoth by the inside, Trahearne could use the powers of Mordry and create himself a new body to "escape"

Imagine, the Commander "coming back" and see the last breath of life leaving Trahearne's body, Mordremoth dead without any seed to come back

To then found/be found by an unknown sylvari (mordrem maybe even? Mordrem looking?) later calling for them with a so well know voice

• Next idea, inspired by all the known and unknown powers of Aurene + what we know and saw of the Mist

Okay this one is really a long stretch and messy but─

Where we are now, Aurene should be overpowerful (as much as the Commander because Champion)

However, to my taste, this isn't really shown (one of the reasons be that if Aurene/Commander is/are too powerful, there wouldn't be any challenge anymore, I'm aware, even if I also HC Aurene to be scared of her own power and turn mad like all the others Elder Dragons before her)

We still do know that she is at Eye of the North while being in the Mist (and other places/everywhere I think?) and that she is, for what I understood, able to use the others' Elder Dragon powers

Which mean...

She can go in the Mist

She could create new Sylvari (Mordremoth)

She also could play with death (Zaithan)

Long stretch, but she could create a new body for Trahearne, go search for his spirit/soul in the Mist (because you won't make me believe he isn't there somewhere), maybe even a journey for the Commander heh, and yeet him in this new body

• I saw someone a while back saying that Trahearne was a powerful and smart Necromancer and he could have a plan for this type of situation...

Less interesting, but they could do... "A Rytlock"

And just make him come back "sorry, took a jig when I should've taken a jag, what did I miss ?"

Especially that there will be Necromancer pew pew now, so he could be an avatar for that new stuff

It's not as big as having a whole new class but still

Anet probably saw by now that many people miss Trahearne and we saw them bending to please sooo.... a coming back is clearly possible for me

• This one I'm kinda cheating because this isn't a real come back... but what about apparitions

Hear me out

I said before that I felt that Aurene/Commander wasn't/weren't showing enough their full powers potential

I'm also a huge fervent fan of that HC of the Commander absorbing magic by all the magic exploding on their face

So let's imagine the Commander be able to see or summon Trahearne from the Mist (without being exclusive to Revenant)

I could imagine the Commander at some point thinking about all the people they lost, maybe seeking reassurance, comfort and/or guidance

Trahearne would appear, time from time in the story to support the Commander

Those are the ideas I remember having said to my friend, maybe I will remember others later I dunno lfnzl

But I'm stupidly feeling in my bones Trahearne coming back in one way or another by something else than his favorite poesy or hallucinations (next to Farren with a stupid hat *screech*)

I can't explain it

I know it's stupid after so many years, you can laugh, I just... Feel it

There are too many people on Tumblr craving for Trahearne, Anet know that

#gw2 #guild wars 2 #trahearne #hey Anet hire me

[ughitsnic]

Pumpkins and Iron man: Chris Evans

i was supposed to post this lastnight, but i feel asleep, no one is surprised. i also hit 250 followers and im planning on doing a little sleepover to celebrate, so if you have any ideas on what we should do please let me know. i was thinking of doing blurbs or something but idk i didnt think id hit this milestone

this was also a request but i cant find it in my inbox any more lol. enjoy

Your feet were frozen as you finally got back into the house, you Chris and the kids had spent all day choosing pumpkins at the pumpkin patch, and now all you wanted was some hot chocolate, your warm fuzzy pajamas and five minutes to yourself before you started to carve the pumpkins.

“Your hands are so cold princess” Chris tells Rose, rubbing his hands over hers and blowing on them. Her little nose was also red, the same shade as her cheeks.

“We do pumpkins now?” Theo asks. You shake your head.

“You need to go put your pajamas on, do you need help?”

“I a big boy” he tells you, walking into the hall towards his room, but stopping to make sure you were still following him. He sits on the bed waiting for you to pick out his clothes.

“I thought you were a big boy?”

“I am”

“Iron man or Micky mouse?” you ask, holding up the pajamas tops.

“Iron man” he jumps up onto the bed, bouncing.

“You’ll break your dad's heart with that one kiddo” you sigh, Theo didn't care and continues to bounce. “Can i be iron man for trick and treating?” he asks, jumping off the bed, falling to his knees, but getting straight back up and taking the pjs out of your hand, struggling to get off his sweatshirt.

“I thought you were being woody?”

“I want to be iron man mommy” he shouts, getting annoyed. You help him get off the jumper.

“Okay, can you do the rest yourself?” you ask. He nods, and you leave him to go get changed yourself. Chris was sat on the edge of the bed, Rose lay on the bed next to him.

“I have bad news” you lean against the door. “Brace yourself, but your son wants to be iron man”

“No, that's your son now” Chris jokes.

“Pumpkin now?” she asks.

“Soon, why don’t we leave mom get changed and we can get everything ready”

It took you a little longer to get ready as you were looking for the costume for Theo but when you walked into the kitchen you didn't expect for the pumpkin to be everywhere. On the floor, on the cabinets, in their hair.

“I don't even know what to know” you laugh, boiling the kettle.

“It was them not me” Chris says defensively, you watch Theo scoop the pumpkin, flinging it everywhere as he does.

“You’re just as bad as them, remember Easter and those chocolate finger prints on the couch?” you remind him and he stays quiet,

“Mommy, my pumpkin is going to have big spiky teeth” Theo tells you excitedly.

“Really?”

“Daddy can you help me?” Rose sighs, “it's too hard” Chris goes over to help her hollow it out. “I want mine to look like Cheshire cat. I going to play with dodger” she announces climbing down from the kitchen island and running off.

“I heard you wanted to be iron man for halloween” Chris starts and Theo breaks out into a big cheesy grin. “Captain america is way cooler” Theo does a dramatic face palm.

“no , iron man is way cooler daddy, he goes pew pew pew” he jumps up holding his arms out.

“Are you sure that's not spiderman, kid?” Chris questions laughing. He was quick to shake his head.

“Who do you think would win in a fight Theo, iron man or captain america?” you question adding fuel to the fire. You watch your son deep in thought.

“Id win” chris says, “cause i can do this all day” you laugh at his answer.

“No. no. no. because iron man can blast and he would kill you!” Theo shouts and you burst out laughing. Chris didn't look happy.

“No!” he says defensively. “Babe” he looks to you for help.

“Cmon, finish your pumpkins” you laugh.

“Moms favourite is captain america” your son looks over and you shake your head miming ‘nope’.

“You told me it was” Chris looks at you in disbelief.

“I told you my favourite was Chris”

“Wait… Thor? You’re not being serious?”

“No im not. You boys are crazy, i'm going to go play with rose”

You sit cuddled with Rose playing with her dolls, but still listening to the playful bickering in the kitchen.

“Look mommy” Theo runs in, with his pumpkin, Chris following with his- Roses pumpkin.

“Wow daddy” smiles getting up to grab it. “Thank you, i wove it!” she claps.

“That’s super scary, I think that might scare away the trick or treaters” you tell theo as he puts it on the coffee table in front of you and he giggles.

“I think its movie time” you decide. “Go wash your hands, whilst me and daddy go get snacks” you follow Chris back into the kitchen, ignoring the mess and getting out the microwave popcorn.

“So Chris hemsworth?” Chris questions. “You’ve ruined halloween”

“Shut up, you know you’re my favourite Chris” you laugh standing on your tiptoes to give him a quick kiss.

“I better be, and what did you think of my pumpkin?”

“I didn’t realise i had 3 kids” you joke and he pouts. “I think its great”

#dad!chris #dad!chris x reader #chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans one shot #chris evans fluff

[strawberrywritings]

Personal gratitude.

A/N: I am sorry about not posting, but I promise I’ll try to be more consistent!🙈 so let tell you how i wrote this: I was thinking about making a Bishop smut (long ovedue), but I had no plot… until @spookyboogyuniverse sent me a message. I changed a bit the relationship between the reader and Nestor+Miguel, but the main points of the plot are the same. Emily is nowhere to be seen because that’s how I like it lmao I really hope you guys like it! Xx🍓💖

Warning: mentions of violence, oral sex (female receiving), protected sexual intercourse, dirty talk, shitty plot and probably bad grammar i am so rusty

/ Masterlist

Summary: Alvarez gets kidnapped and you’re with Miguel and Nestor when they get the news: you offer your help, as Miguel calls the Mayans to join the search. After Marcus is found, everyone celebrates and the president has a unique way of showing his gratitude.

When shit went down, you immediately sensed it was something big, especially with the way Miguel and Nestor were looking. Being childhood friends with them, and not being a stranger to this life, you had waited for them to finish their meeting, and had offered to help.

/

“I know I may not have the same amount of connections you two have, but I know some people. I could call them and tell ‘em to keep an eye out”, you said, and Miguel looked at Nestor, not because he didn’t trust you, but he knew that this situation had to be handled with caution, so he wanted to make sure it would not compromise things even more.

When Nestor nodded, you stepped outside and started making calls, telling everyone only what they needed to know to make sure this whole thing ended quickly. You followed them with your car, making a few stops as Miguel alerted people.

“What the…”, you muttered to yourself as Miguel’s car, with Nestor driving, headed outside the city and towards the desert. You parked the car right behind them, hopping off and about to question what the hell you were doing in the middle of nowhere, but the sound of engines caught your attentions: quite a few bikes made their way to where you were standing, and you immediately recognized their kutte. Everyone knew who the Mayans were, but you had no idea Miguel worked with them. Eight men made their way towards Miguel, as you kept stading off to the side, your back leaned against your car while you waited for them to finish talking.

You might’ve been quiet, but your presence didn’t go unnoticed; you were focused on Miguel and Nestor explaining everything that happened to a man, who was standing a few steps ahead of the others, “probably the president”, you thought, and from the corner of your eye you could see people’s eyes on you, the exchanged whispers.

“What’s she doing here?”, a voice said, and Nestor looked at you as you narrowed your eyes at the tall man who had spoken. “She’s with me, you got a problem with that?”, Miguel said, never taking his eyes off the same man you were watching, and everyone was quick to say “no” and apologize.

/

Fast forward to the day after. Turns out, your contacts were able to actually help with Alvarez’s kidnapping, someone had seen the people responsible for it and, thanks to that, Nestor was able to track them down and now they were with Miguel in his church pew, he needed answer and he needed them fast. In less than 2 hours, not only did Miguel manage to find Marcus, but he also got everyone else involved in the kidnapping, and you didn’t have to ask what would happen to them. You might not have been completely involved in this kind of life, but you were no stranger to it. After Miguel had taken off his yellow raincoat and changed his suit, he came back home and joined you in the living room.

“I remember when we took that picture, I ate that awful soup she made because it was the only way she would let me go out and play”, he said, you could hear the smile in his face and you turned around, smiling, too. It was nice to be back to “normal” after the past few days, filled with worry, fear and rage.

“I remember how that soup tasted, I hated it, too”, you giggled, tracing your finger on the frame encasing the picture. Placing it back on the shelf, you smiled at him and got your purse from the sofa. “I think I should go, I am glad I was able to help, though”, you smiled, going over to him and hugging him, kissing his cheek. “Hey, there’s a party at that clubhouse, the Mayans. Marcus will be there and he asked me if you could come, he wants to thank you personally”, Miguel said, smiling at you as you nodded. “Sure, just text me the address”, he nodded and you both said goodbye, saying also goodbye to Nestor on your way out.

That night, you opted for a nice dress, still casual, since you knew where this clubhouse was and it was nothing compared to the parties Miguel usually attended, but it was nice to be celebrating something like this. After parking your car next to the bikes, you made your way inside. The Mayans sure knew how to throw a party. Alcohol and girls were everywhere, but you didn’t have time to make a tour of the place because Nestor got your attention.

“Hey – he greeted you by kissing both of your cheeks – come on, Marcus is eager to thank you”, he smiled, leading you to the man himself. Marcus didn’t look too bad, just a couple scratches on his face, and surely his body, but he was alive. You started talking, him saying how grateful he was that you helped Miguel.

“If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be here”, he said, taking a sip from his beer. You chuckled and shook your head, “I doubt it, Miguel would’ve found you anyways, he’s very good at what he does… I just happened to make the right calls”, you said with a smile. You kept talking for a while, until you excused yourself to go get a drink.

Drink in hand, you leaned your back against the bar and looked around, until your eyes caught the ones of the president himself. Bishop was sitting with some of his men around a table, smoking a cigar. He had his eyes trained on you but from the way his lips moved you could tell he was still carrying on the conversation. Something in his eyes was drawing you in, but you quickly shoved your impure thoughts in the back of your mind and decided to explore the place, instead.

You took a stroll in the outside area, the actual scrapyard, the corridors of the dorms and then you ended up in Templo. You didn’t think nothing of it, examining the colorful door up close, and sitting in one of the chairs, finally some peace and quiet, which you had been craving for the past 72 hours.

“You wanna prospect?”, the voice almost gave you a heart attack, and you turned around to see Bishop staring down at you. “No…?”, you furrowed your brows. “Then unless you’re a patched Mayan, you can’t be in here”, he replied, walking slowly until he reached the bigger chair, right beside you, and he sat down. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t know…”, you had no idea there were rules, and you were ashamed of having broken them, you should’ve known better. You made a move of getting up from your seat, but he his hand caught your wrist before you could turn away. Your eyes went from his hold on you to his eyes, his expression stoic.

“I wanted to thank you”, he said, and it felt like he was shouting, the only sound was the chatter coming from the party. “For what?”. “Marcus es mi primo” Marcus is my cousin, he said, and you shrugged. “It’s no problem, really, I was glad I could help”, you gave him a small smile, but none of you talked more. His eyes were still locked with yours when he got up, his hand always around your wrist as he neared you, his body almost touching yours, almost. “Let me thank you properly”, his lips were centimeters away from yours, all you had to do was push yourself forward and your lips would meet. He didn’t move, letting you decide what to do… did you want this? Your eyes looked at his lips, plump and inviting, he smelled like nicotine and beer and something else and it was so manly. You couldn’t help but to give in, letting your body guide you into his, your lips finally connecting in a heated kiss. His hands immediately went to your hips, squeezing them in his hands and bringing you close to him. Everything happened in a blur, one second you were making out and the next you were laying on top of the big wooden table, your panties around your ankle and his head between your thighs, and damn, he was good.

“You sure you wanna keep going?”, you nodded, completely out of breath as he looked for his pants. “Condom?”, you asked him just as he took it out of his wallet, and he smiled at you even as he sat down on the president’s chair, putting on the condom and pumping himself. “Come take a ride, sweetheart”, his voice was like pure honey and you didn’t waist time, situating your legs on both sides of his hips before slowly starting to slide down onto him. Your mouth hung open as he filled you, and his hands returned to your hips, squeezing them to take him mind off the fact that he just wanted to fuck you senseless. You let out a high-pitched whine when he bottomed out, his balls pressing against your ass as he only had shoved his pants down enough to take out his dick. A smack to your right cheek brought you back to reality, “Move, cariño”, he said, his lips ghosting over your neck. You obeyed immediately, “Yes, sir”, you didn’t mean to call him that, it just slipped… this man was made to give orders and you would gladly obey, especially if it meant fucking him on top of his president’s  chair.

Your hips bounced on top of him, and you kept going even when your thighs started to ache from the strain: you were determined to cum, and between how good he felt inside you, his groans and moans, you knew it would not take long. One of his hands reached up and grabbed the side of your face, kissing you again before making a trail down your neck, your chest, and closing his lips around one of your exposed nipples. The sensation made you moan and clench around him, your hands now on his shoulder for leverage.

“Get on the table”, he spoke, biting gently on the skin of your breast, and you did as he told you. Spreading your legs wide with his hands, he spit directly onto your lips, spreading the moisture with the tip of his cock, before filling you up again and rolling his hips against yours. “Fuck, just like that”, you closed your eyes as one of your hands went to fondle your breasts, and he smirked. “Am I gonna make you cum?”, you nodded frantically as your moans got louder with every pump of his hips against yours. “Yes, please, please”, you mewled, and he slowed down, making you whine in protest. “Please what?”, he taunted, his eyes switching between your face and his dick disappearing inside you. “Please sir, please make me cum”, you shamelessly begged, your bruised hips rising up to meet his thrusts and your hand reaching your clit, touching yourself. “Así, tócate, touch yourself, cum all over my cock, nena”, his hands gripped your hips as he started to fuck you with wild abandon, not even bothering to try and keep quiet, both your moans echoing in the room.

When you reached your orgasm, it was like a hot flash, your eyes watered from the pleasure and you arched your back. Your pussy pulsated as it milked his dick, his growl ceasing once he was finished, taking a moment to breathe again. when he slid out of you, you let out a sight, you were sure his cock had you addicted and all you could think about was another round. Silence fell over you two as he tied the condom and zipped his pants back up; you had gotten down from the table, fixed your dress and your panties were back in their place.

“I should go”, you stated. “Don’t you wanna stay for the party?”, you chuckled and he smiled. “It’s okay, I already had as much fun as I could”, he smiled and opened the door of Templo for you. He watched as you made your way through the bodies cramped up in the small room, looking at him over your shoulder one last time before disappearing outside.

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#obispo losa x reader #obispo losa imagine #mayans imagine #my writing