#than a greedy rich man trying to squeeze as much profit out of me as possible get it

[planefood]

Saw a video talking about people (in my country) getting job seekers benefits and not getting jobs saying they were stealing from taxpayers and all I could think of was this:

#I want my tax money to go to people who are on the benefit actually erm unpopular opinion I guess #ppl on the benefit yes even the “lazy ones” aren't your enemy they're not the ones making profits while the price of everything gets higher #id rather a guy fart around all day playing games while on the benefit get my money #than a greedy rich man trying to squeeze as much profit out of me as possible get it

[softscummymammon]

€Unexpected Acquaintance€

Assisted by:: @jinjinjinjin

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Sukuna just wanted this day to end. He was already in a bad mood from the storm last night, where he got little of his much needed sleep, and his mood had only gotten worse when he was faced with a bunch of "nature friendly" bastards protesting near the docks where his boat was tied down.

Now, he just wanted to get his daily load of fish for the market, and have a nap without dealing with any other goody two shoe hypocrites. He could already feel the headache building up behind his eyes.

Though the gentle rocking of the boat over the surface of the water did ease him slightly. People besides other fishermen were always so confused when he actually said something about himself and it happened to his be career in fishing. They were always so astounded when he said he could stay on a boat for a whole day. Weaklings, all of them.

Rubbing at his sore eyes, Sukuna glared at the surface of the horizon and took a sip of the alcohol in his canteen. Tucking the tin back into his wader's pocket, he patted the pocket for safe keeping.

Walking to the front of the boat, he checked his net markers he left a few days ago. Sukuna gasped when he saw his marker bobbing up and down frantically. Getting his equipment ready, he tugged on some gloves and grabbed at the net right under the marker.

Taking a breath, Sukuna started tugged on the net. Grabbing every piece of net coming from the water, Sukuna huffs as he pulls the net further and further from the water. The sound of splashing water reached his ears and he smirked in victory.

Putting all the access netting into one hand, Sukuna quickly reaches behind him for the mechanical hook. The machinery on his boat was built and bought by him only, so only he knew how it worked. By reaching for the net first, he can easily tie the access onto the hook and pull up the rest of it out of the water.

Doing exactly what was needed, he tied the net to the hook and grabbed onto the leaver and started cranking the leaver clockwise. The machinery raised the net out of the water better than he ever could. The load he hauled onto his deck made him smile and rub his hands together gleefully.

" This shipment is definitely worth a pretty penny. Now, all I gotta do it sort you out, fish sticks. "

*Slap* "Who you callin' fish sticks, blubber mouth?! "

Sukuna froze. Looking up, he raised his hand to his face and wiped away some water the fish that had been thrown at him left on his cheek. Peering down at the fish now flopping on his deck, he gave the thing a death glare; as if that would give him any answers. He must really be going crazy-

"Up here, blubber-for-brains. "

His eyes snapped up towards the voice. But the air in his lungs escaped as if they were punched out of him. A human(?)'s upper torso was visible at the top of the net. It was leaning against the hook of the machinery and was throwing and catching a fish in its hand.

Sukuna raised a brow, " What the fuck? "

The thing raised one of its brows back, " Nice use of language, Oh Smart One. I thought you humans were supposed to be intelligent. Though, every one of your kind I've encountered uses fowl language, so smarts must just be a myth. "

Sukuna growled at the things snarky commentary, " Oh yeah? And what kind of intelligent creature like you gets stuck in a fishing net, huh? So much for being smart. "

The thing snarled, showing off rust colored stained teeth dyed by no doubt blood as sharp as many of Sukuna's own fileting knives. It held tightly onto the fish in its hand, " Watch your mouth, human, I still got a whole lotta of ammo here, and your face is lookin' like a big ol' target from where I'm sittin'. "

Sukuna rose an unimpressed eyebrow and pulled out a harpoon gun he kept in the captain's quarters, " Mine hurts worse. "

The thing flinched back and hissed at the gun, but slowly set down the poor he probably squeezed to death in his panic. The thing made a whiny sound in the back of its throat, " I didn't choose to get stuck here. I was getting chased by some shark mers. Those nasty ones only know the smell of blood and the next potential meal. I'd choose to be anywhere else right now, trust me. "

Sukuna huffed, " Yeah, sure. " Putting away the gun, Sukuna sighed and looked back up to the sulking thing. Looking closer, he was the slightest shine of scales decorating the cheeks, neck, and forearms of the thing. Its eyes were steely and sunken in, as if it's seen things beyond it's life time.

Sukuna chuckled upon realization, " You're a mermaid, aren't you? "

The mer scoffed, " Merman, thank. But 'mer' is just fine. I still don't get why ya humans always gotta gender code things. Damn, just call us what we are? "

Sukuna chuckled again, " What? Nuisances? "

The mer hissed again, " We wouldn't be if ya humans knew to keep to yerselves. Ain't this section of the coast off limits to fishers like yerself? "

Sukuna shrugged, not giving an answer. The mer scoffed and crossed it's arms over it's chest. Sukuna looked at it up and down, taking in everything he could. He hummed delightfully.

The mer must have caught on, " What'cha lookin at me fer? Think I'm some sorta snack for yer to eat? "

Sukuna shook his head no, " Nah, I was just rememberin how much one of your kind goes to sell on the blackmarket. You gotta be worth something. No rich bastard would give up the opportunity to call a thing like you pet. "

The mer's eyes went thin, but already creamy skin paled considerably, " You wouldn't... "

Sukuna rose a brow, " Oh, and why wouldn't I? I could definitely use the money. "

The thing stayed quiet, before it soon started to shake. Sukuna was about to sneer and comment about it being weak, but paused when a face formed from agony and rage shot up to glare at him. Sukuna had to keep himself from tensing and tried to look as calm as he could be.

The mer growled, " That's all that ya humans are. Selfish and greedy monsters only willing to do something if you get money in return. Do you know how many of our kind is sacrificed, hunted, and killed just so the others can live? Just so you humans can play god and reap what we mer's sew. "

Sukuna gulped, remembering the auction show he was emailed an invite to since he contributed a large amount of fish to the CEO of the company. It was a disgusting show of wealth. How millionaires and billionaires fought over a small little thing that held a resemblance to the one right in front of him.

The mer wasn't done, but tears of grief started to roll down it's eyes, " How many of our guppies, our children, are pulled from our arms to be sold like live stock?! You are no better! "

Sukuna had enough of this tantrum, " Do not bundle me with those people! I'd never harm a child, even if I am considered a monster by other people. I will not allow it to be done by a fish like you! "

The mer shrunk back, breathing irregular and struggling, like a faint wheeze. It swallowed roughly and looked away. Sukuna rumbled, now over flowing with guilt he felt he should not harbor. Looking back up, he became slightly alarmed at the shallow and wheezy breaths the mer was taking.

Mer's need water, his mind supplied. Sukuna growled, and hackles raising when he caught the mer flinching again. Walking away from the net, he went down below deck on got out a giant glass tank he kept in case he needed to keep a fish alive for more profit.

Taking it up the stairs and on to the deck, he set it down on some secure boxes and grabbed a bucket to start filling it with water. He had to make haste though, or the mer would die from drownin? Suffocation? And all of this work would be for waste.

Once the tank was full and covered from the beating ray of the sun, Sukuna walked over to the leaver controlling the hook and rotated it counter clockwise. He watched as the machine lowered the net onto the deck and he let go of the leaver. Once the machine stopped, he stepped up to the net and untied it.

Being this up close and personal to the mer, he watched as the sun made the scales look iridescent. Slipping his arms underneath the torso of the fish being, he pulled it out of the other fish and dragged it towards the tank. The mer roused slightly, trying to fruitlessly push Sukuna away. The bigger man scoffed and dropped the mer into the tank.

The reaction was instant, the mer took a deep breath through the large gills covering it's side and it slumped against the rim of the glass tank. Sukuna watched, looking at the mer's tail that could he classified as art in itself. It was beautiful, though he would never admit it. The thin tarp Sukuna draped over some boxes didn't stop the light from the sun bouncing off the glittering scales.

Sukuna's gaze went back up to the mer's face, startling to see the mer was also looking at him. It's hair fell in it's face, blocking out most of it. It puffed, blowing some of the strands out of it's eyes to get a better look.

Sukuna hated the way his chest constricted at the show. The mer raised a webbed hand, and Sukuna slowly took it and shook it. He made a face when he pulled it back and fake gagged at the slimy feeling left on his skin. The thing laughed at his disgust and shook it's head, getting water everywhere.

It smirked, " The name's _____ _____. What's yours, blubber man? "

Sukuna sneered at the nickname, " That's not my name. It'd Sukuna Ryoumen, nothing else. "

The mer smirked, " Well now I gotta call you that every time I address ya. "

Sukuna growled, " Don't you dare. " The glint in the fish's eyes didn't quell any of the building dread that sat in the bottom of his stomach. He really debated on if he should sell the fish or not.

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#anime headcanons #jjk x male reader #ryōmen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #x male reader #male character #mermaid male reader #sukuna ryoumen x reader #sukuna x male reader #tw blood #tw gore #tw fishing #tw harmful endangerment #alternate universe

[tanadrin]

cyprinodont replied to your post: unknought: (Disclaimer: I really don’t know what...

“Dont be a landlord” means that if you are lucky enough to find yourself in possession of significantly more housing than you need or can possibly occupy, you let people live there for free.

Basically until there are no more unhoused people, being a landlord is pretty unequivocally evil.

This is a framing I’m emotionally sympathetic to, but intellectually skeptical of. Let’s say I am J.R. McBillionaire, and I need a place to stash my billions made from, I don’t know, widget manufacturing or investing in zany startup ideas, and I hear real estate is a good place to make decent returns on my money. So me and all my rich friends buy up a lot of real estate (and maybe some of us put the squeeze on our tenants to improve our rate of return even more). Obviously, that’s gonna have some really weird effects on the real estate market. Supply increases relatively slowly, real estate isn’t fungible, and if the price goes up you can’t forego housing, you either have to pay more or be homeless.

(Also, I would object to framing the problem as one of mere homelessness; in developed countries, many, many more people are in precarious housing situations, or struggling to make rent in cities where rent is stupidly expensive, because they have no good economic opportunities elsewhere, or dealing with just shitty or cruel landlords. If the political will existed to do so, homelessness could be solved tomorrow--but that wouldn’t do much to address the cruelties and the inefficiencies in housing for everybody else. Not that that wouldn’t be a good thing on its own, of course.)

But what drives the creation of more housing? More housing has to be built all the time! Unless a city or a region is in steep economic decline, it’s probably growing, even if it’s growing slowly. The US as a whole has grown by about 20 million people in the last ten years. Europe has grown by about 30 million. Other parts of the world are growing much faster. Housing’s not a preexisting resource you can mine, or one that appears ex nihilo and gets snapped up by greedy landlords. Even in places where the government is involved in funding the building of housing, that’s typically only a small part of the apartment or housebuilding industry. Development is in large part driven by developers, building where they think they can make money by selling the things they build, usually to people who already have a lot of money with which to buy real estate--so, luxury condos and apartments, or upper-middle-class homebuyers, or to potential landlords looking to make a profit off real estate. If every person who owned more than one house or apartment got rid of all but one, it might lead to a utopia of cheap housing for everybody--or it might drastically slow down the rate at which new housing is built. The latter seems more likely to me (cynic that I am) because “meeting people’s actual housing needs” isn’t what motivates the building of housing! Making people who already have money even more money is.

“First, let’s kill all the landlords” isn’t a solution to housing problems in any existing city in the world. It’s an emotionally cathartic response for people who have experienced long-term precarious housing situations, been jerked around by asshole landlords, and had the experience of trying to fulfill an important and basic need in a system that’s essentially apathetic to the function of housing as a need versus housing as a source of profitmaking potential. A solution would be finding a way to reorient the system so it serves the needs of individuals better. But doing that requires not just regulating landlords out of the market; it requires setting up new incentives for housing to be built, or funding it directly. My own preferred solution is to cut out the middle man and not to introduce novel inefficiencies just to allow rent-seeking, so I would favor big social housing programs in every city on Earth. But I think there is probably a pretty big solution space to this particular problem.

#cyprinodont

[ohnojustimagine]

Don’t Call It Chemistry

Andrade Cien Almas/Reader/Zelina Vega Smut/Explicit; 2035 words

Two content notes: a) this has explicit f/f as well as m/f and b) the reader is a sex worker.

***

You get hired by couples more than most people would think, more than you would have ever thought when you started in this business. Some of your best and most profitable regulars are couples, and mostly it’s a fairly sweet deal. You get the occasional shitty booking, where the husband will insist on fucking you in front of his wife, who’s clearly bored out of her mind while making a passing attempt at feigning interest or jealousy, but generally they’re just looking for some pretty vanilla girl-on-girl stuff. The husband watches you make out with the wife and then go down on her, then he’ll fuck her afterwards. Those are your favorites, because you don’t get to eat pussy too often these days, and your clients are rich enough that the wives are usually extremely hot. The husbands, not so much, but for once that’s not your problem.

These two, however, are both extremely hot, but you’re not sure what their dynamic is. Because they’re very, very clearly into each other (though he’s far more careless about showing it than she is) but they’re also obviously not a couple. Business partners, you guess? Not that it matters, but you’re curious, so you watch, and wait.

They’re both still fully clothed: him in a crisp white shirt and dark gray suit pants, and her in a strapless black dress that’s short and low-cut but expensive-looking, classy. He’s sitting on the end of the bed and she’s in a chair, shapely legs crossed, draped over one another in way that’s making your mouth water.

You’ve taken off your own dress and are standing there in front of them in your bra and panties, hands at your sides. You’re used to being stared at like this, examined and assessed as if you’re an object, something only to be possessed, and it doesn’t bother you. Not, at least, at the hourly rate you charge.

The man looks at you, then looks at the woman, and says, in Spanish, “I could go to a club, pick up a girl this hot and fuck her. Why do we need a hooker?”

“She’s a professional,” she replies, and you wonder if they assume you can’t understand them or if they just don’t care. You try to remember her name… Selena? No, you think, Zelina. It’s a pretty name, you muse, as she goes on, saying, “I don’t want any issues with you leading some girl on and her thinking she can get emotionally involved.” Her voice is even, and it’s clear she’s someone who’s used to people doing exactly what she tells them to do. “You need to think about your career, Andrade, now more than ever.”

“What about you?” he asks her, seemingly unmoved.

“What about me?”

“You said if I won the championship I could have whatever I wanted.”

“I never said you could fuck me,” she tells him, and you get the feeling this is a conversation they’ve had many, many times before. “I said I’d watch you fuck someone else, if that was what you wanted.”

“What I want,” he says, unbuttoning his shirt, exposing his chest, and huh, you think, because he’s even more built than you had assumed, well-muscled but thick with it, “is to watch you and her.”

“What?” Zelina asks.

He smiles, smug, like he’s bested her in some way. “I want her to eat you out while I watch.”

She stares at him for a long minute, without speaking, and you wonder if she’s going to refuse, but then she shrugs, studiedly casual, and says, “If that’s what you want.”

His smiles widens into a delighted grin, and he gestures at you. “Kiss her,” he says to Zelina.

She stands up, quite calm, and walks towards you, standing before you. You’re not tall, but even in heels she’s a little shorter than you, her face tilted up towards you. You can tell she’s more nervous than she’s letting on, her hands moving slightly, subtly, as if she’s not sure what to do with them, so you take the initiative, placing your own hands on her waist, your touch light and careful.

She gives you a small, appreciative nod, and follows suit, her palms warm on your bare skin as she leans in, and you feel yourself hold your breath for a moment, waiting, until her mouth presses against yours. Her lips are full and soft, and you want more, but you let her set the pace, gradually opening up as her tongue licks its way into your mouth, lazily sensual.

You hear Andrade inhale sharply, and you decide to push things a little, sliding your hands slowly downwards until they’re resting on Zelina’s ass, feeling your way over the high, firm curve of it, squeezing lightly. She pulls away, breaking the kiss and glaring at you, and you don’t say anything, but you meet her gaze as provocatively as you can, challenging. She rolls her eyes in reply, says, in English, “Fine,” and kisses you again, deeper this time, reaching down and grabbing your ass so hard you wince. You hear Andrade laugh, and her touch eases off into a firm caress, pleasurable enough that you have to whine quietly.

“She’s good,” Andrade murmurs to himself, admiring, and Zelina steps back, licking her lips. You can see she’s breathing more rapidly, her throat moving as she swallows, and you walk around behind her, unzipping her dress, sliding it off her body, letting it fall to the floor. She’s not wearing a bra, so you fall to your knees in front of her, slipping your fingers under the edge of her black lace thong, caressing down her legs as you pull it off. Her thighs and calves are smoothly, leanly muscled, tight under your touch, and you shift slightly, realizing you’re wet, that you’re actually turned on.

Careful, you think to yourself, because genuine desire can be a dangerous thing when you’re with a client, so you take a deep breath, lifting Zelina’s feet one at a time, gently taking off her shoes and setting them aside.

“On the bed,” Andrade says, voice low. He’s taken off his shirt, and he’s rubbing at the front of his pants and Zelina doesn’t say anything, watching him for a minute before she climbs onto the bed, lying back, knees bent, feet spread wide enough that she’s fully open before you. You can see how aroused she is, but you suspect that has very little to do with you and what you’ve been doing, what you’re going to do; what’s turning her on is him, the way he’s looking at her, the way he’s watching you.

You quickly remove your bra and panties, positioning yourself on your stomach between Zelina’s legs, stroking her thighs, breathing in the scent of her, sweet and heady. Her pussy is as bewitchingly beautiful as the rest of her, and at first you only lap at it, delicately tasting, but then her hands are in your hair, dragging you closer, impatient, and you begin to eat her in earnest, sucking and licking, your tongue greedy on her.

You feel Andrade behind you, roughly pulling up your hips, pushing you so your knees are underneath you, and then his cock is at your entrance. You hurriedly reach back far enough that you can touch him, just to make certain he’s wearing a condom, and normally you’d make him stop for long enough to get some lube but tonight there’s no need, because you’re so wet and ready that it only feels good as he slides into you. He’s big, big enough that for a moment you lose your concentration, breathing in and biting your lip as he moves in and out of you.

You hear Zelina sigh in frustration and then snap, “Can you let her finish?”

Andrade laughs, breathless, and stills inside you. “Make her come,” he tells you, and it’s the first time he’s spoken in English. “Make her come and then I’ll fuck you for real, baby.”

And, to your surprise, that’s what you want, for her to come and for him to fuck you. It’s been a long time since you were with anyone like this, least of all a client; in the moment and fully present in your body instead of just vaguely dissociating, always at a slight remove from what’s being done to you.

There’s a connection between these two that’s palpable, the chemistry in the air so thickly visceral it’s affecting even you.

You let out a moan and focus on Zelina, on her clit, tonguing it with what seems to be the right pressure and tempo. “Yeah,” she gasps out, “like that.” She tugs on your hair, grinding against your face, and you’re not even sure you can breathe, but you don’t care as her hips buck up, thighs close around your head, and she’s coming, pussy tightening under your tongue as you lick her through it, wanting to taste every last moment.

And as soon as she’s done, Andrade starts, beginning to fuck you rough and hard. You raise your head, leaning up on your arms, pushing back against his cock with each thrust. Zelina hasn’t moved, lying beneath you, but it’s Andrade she’s watching, looking up at him with such naked, heated intensity that you can feel it, and your own orgasm builds in response, peaking and then spilling over. You cry out, and Andrade drives into you one last time, grunting as he comes.

He pulls out, tossing the condom and immediately dragging you forcefully up onto your knees, kissing you so deep you can barely catch your breath. It’s her he’s chasing, not you, licking the taste of her out of your mouth with a desperate, almost violent ferocity, only stopping when there’s nothing left.

They stare at each other, and you’re still, quiet, aware this moment has nothing to do with you, waiting with something like trepidation. And you don’t know what you’re expecting will happen, but it’s somehow oddly, weirdly disappointing when Zelina simply gets up and walks into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

After a minute, you hear the shower running, and Andrade looks at you. “You can go now,” he says, but it’s not dismissive, not unkind.

He sits on the bed, watching you as you dress yourself. You’d like to at least wash your hands, splash some water on your face and check your hair, but you get the very distinct impression that Zelina is not to be disturbed, so you don’t ask. You’re careful not to overbook yourself, so your next appointment isn’t for a few hours, and you have time enough that you can go home to your apartment, clean up there. You smooth down your dress, slipping on your shoes, and Andrade stands up, walking over to where his pants are hanging over the back of a chair. He pulls a roll of bills out of the pocket, offering it to you.

You hold out your hand, but then pause, wanting to make sure there’s no misunderstanding, telling him, “You know she paid in advance, right?”

He gives you a small, amused smile, saying, “It’s a tip.”

“Oh,” you say. You take the money, and you can tell by the feel of it that it’s at least a couple thousand. Nice, you think, slipping the money into your purse. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” he says. He’s more relaxed, surer of himself without her in the room, as if he’s once again on steady ground, and it doesn’t suit him, you notice, makes him seem smug and perhaps a little sleazy. You may not know him, but it’s clear that Zelina is good for him, brings out his better self.

You wonder if he’s aware of that.

“Call me,” you say. “If you’d ever like to do this again.”

“We might do that.” He sits back down on the bed, and you note that we. Not I but we, and you smile.

“Well,” you say. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

He nods, and you turn on your heel, feeling his eyes on you as you leave.

#ohnojustwrites #zelina vega #andrade cien almas #wwe imagine #wwe smut #andrade cien almas imagine #zelina vega imagine #andrade cien almas smut #zelina vega smut

[alexdunkin]

First Draft Series: Scratching The Surface

Our scavenging through the dirt was finally beginning to be fruitful. I wiped away a layer of rusty crumbs to find my treasure. Sighs of relief and greedy cheers erupted around the camp. The deserted land held that promise we moved here for when the first glint of dull gold hit my eyes. My hands shivered as I lifted the device free from its wedged spot in the ground. I instantly recognised the watch face, small and fragile but somehow still holding together. The dumping fields had been a failed promise for most people. Right from the beginning we were told about the riches left when the land was abandoned. Old dumps overloaded with what was thrown out instead of reused lured me out there. Upon arrival there was just torn canvas tents and a howling wind over the brown land. I swung the watch in front of my eyes on a small rope I weaved from scratch. Such a tiny reminder of our mistakes waved before my sight, mistakes we were trying to learn from, yet mistakes that held so much promise for our future. ‘What do you reckon you’ll get for it?’ Richard asked from over his card game. The overturned carton that served as their table wobbled under the weight of their tokens. ‘Looks like a pretty piece. Ain’t seen one of them out here before.’ ‘Who knows?’ I said. I placed the watch back into my pocket and buttoned it securely shut. ‘Depends on what they find inside it.’ ‘I could turn a nice profit for you if you like,’ Richard’s shifted straight to his weaselling. ‘Steady on there, mate,’ Chris jumped in. ‘Your brother-in-law doesn’t count as a dealer. Something like that needs to be taken to the right place, like my contact across the border.’ ‘Traitor,’ Richard spat. ‘You would take something like that across to those murders and rapists?’ ‘You know that’s not true.’ ‘True enough to not trust them.’ I shook my head. The moment I pulled the watch from the dirt a hand reached to snatch it from me. I kept the treasure as close to my heart as possible to avoid any thieves taking in from me before I could turn it in to an official. The next day in the field I couldn’t get close to my site from yesterday. Swarms of men scoured the dirt, sending a cloud of filth spiralling up around them. Swearing and muttering bellowed out of the sweaty pile of men. Their clothes tore more into rags with each swipe at each other and the dirt. Tears and desperation flooded the pile of broken humans. I wrapped my face in an oily rag. The odour of tea oil I soaked onto the cloth eased putrid air as I ready to march away to a new site. I found a location up the hill away from the brawl. I could still see the men scrap at each other under the copper dust that sought to bury them where I found the watch. I dumped my pack on the ground and began the dig. The weeks of lashing into the ground had taken its toll on my body. The newfound enthusiasm of a worthwhile find did little to dull the constant aching through my spine. The muscles cried in agony. Some fuel remained inside me and carried me through with each pat of the watch against my chest adding a tiny reminder that there was something out here after all. For hours I dug in random spots, praying a clink of metal on metal would tear me out of this constant slug. A sun disappeared behind the far mountain. The intermittent shadows provided enough cool in the air for my skin to relax. The shadows covered the field so much I didn’t see him sneak up on me. The first I knew he was at my site was the thud of his fist against my head. Blood instantly release from the wound. Ringing bounced through my head, blurring my vision. I tumbled instinctively onto my front, clutching at the pocket with the watch in it. I could smell blood. My head felt like it was ready to split and spill my brain onto the dirt. A muffled voice swore and demanded from me. I couldn’t give in. He kicked and belted me. My body cracked under each smack into my side. I held on, knowing that if I lost the watch I would lose my chance of the better life back home. The kicking ceased suddenly. Fingers dug into my body, feeling and gnawing at my flesh. I took the opportunity, forcing all the strength I could muster into my legs. I rolled and launched both boots at my attacker. A howl released from him as one boot collided with his jaw. My vision cleared. I spotted Richard patting uselessly at the teeth poking through his lips. His eyes watered. He span, one hand latching at nothing in the air as he attempted to pursue me. I scrambled to my feet and ran, panting through the blood that dripped over my nose and mouth. Richard screamed after me, his mouth tearing more as he screeched. I ignored him and sprinted. My heart begged me to stop and surrender the watch. Richard was bigger and better connected but the fleeting knowledge that the watch would get me back to my family kept me sprinting. My legs burned through the climb up the hill. Slowly, my running turned to a wobbled attempt to walk. Richard’s distant screaming shrunk into the background of my skull howling for it to end. I surrendered to the pain and drop to my knees. The coarse dirt dug through the thin material of my pants. The stones on the ground buried themselves into my skin, any movement threatened to scratch the flesh of my bones. I wheezed and panted in desperate attempts to steady my breath. My chest ached for release. I touch the wound on my head. It stung and pulsed instantly on the contact. I glanced down the hill, squinting through the sweat and blood. I had never travelled that far from the main camp. The strange land rippled before me. It looked completely untouched by man, daunting but somehow begging to be discovered. The shadows moved again, easing into their final flicker before the cold snapped over the land. My strength was gone when he caught me. Richard’s tackle knocked the remaining wind out from deep in my chest. I flailed down the hill, Richard snatching at my body. His rotten breath spluttered blood across the back of my neck. I gripped onto my pocket. The metal of the watch was hot to the touch. The sunlight and body heat had created a brand in my palm. I wrapped my fingers tight and let the fall take us. I croaked in agony as we hit the final tumble. A sharpness pinched into my back as I fell into place away from Richard. He heaved himself up quickly and launched. He was on top of me. His hands sought straight for my throat and squeezed. Water seeped from my eyes. I pulled at his hands until I couldn’t hold my arms up any longer. They dropped to the ground uselessly. The air pressed from my body. I was failing in my duties. The cool touch of metal teased the back of my hand. I followed the shape with my fingers, dirt falling from its sides with each tap of my hands. The last of my strength mustered in my arm. I gripped and swung. The metal cracked into Richard’s skull. The force belted him to the ground beside. He laid there silent after the thud to the dirt. The object fell from my hand. A black exhaustion took over. When I came to the twinkling light of the moon cast itself across the desert. A chill crept its way across my spine. Richard was still silent beside me, his body cold from the reach of death. I rolled and thrust myself up until I was seated. I was alone. A gentle whisper of the wind was all that kept me company. I gently twisted around to view the surrounds. The metal sat next to me. The busted scrap still had the paint from the ship that it was dumped here as part of. A glimmering across the field before me caught my eyes. I blink through the pain. Tears gushed down my face at the sight around me. The black screens of historic devices reflected the weak starlight. The shattered parts and broken plastics hid the truth I finally accepted. My chest heaved with pride. I swallowed deep to control the sobbing I knew was welling in my gut. The precious metals hidden in the plastic were more than the watch in my hand could ever achieve. I knew in that instant there was enough here to get most of us back to Earth.

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