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raith-way · 3 years

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Ryan and Bruce

Cute 20 & Spooky 18

Thank you for the ask/prompt! I love these two, which is why I wrote for them first, and I actually managed to write something non-angsty for them!

Ryan & Bruce [otp: mutually assured destruction]

Warm Welcome [cute #20: first frost of the year]

Ryan woke up to two very unexpected surprises, and she added in the unexpected despite the obvious definition of the word surprise because of how caught off guard she was. The sweater she had fallen asleep in did nothing to ward off the chill as she emerged from unconsciousness, and she hissed as cold air hit her bare legs after swinging her blanket off of her. It’d been cold the night before, but not so cold that she’d felt the need to find a pair of pants to sleep in or even pull on a pair of socks. Now she hopped from foot to foot as she crossed the wooden floors of her bedroom, and her breath showed in a pale cloud in front of her face as she moved to the single window in her bedroom. Ice had crept across the glass while she slept, and she pressed her fingers against the edge of forming frost. She was shivering, acutely aware of the temperature since all she was wearing was the sweater and a pair of panties, but she couldn’t stop looking outside long enough to go find some more clothes.

In Banshee City, there was never any real snow. Occasional ice, yes, but not until much closer to Christmastime. She hadn’t been expecting it to get this cold, this fast. Down below, people were fully bundled up and moving quickly to get to their destinations. (The people here always moved quickly, as a safety precaution, but it seemed like the cold gave them some extra motivation to get to where they were going.) Outside, ice had formed along everything. The rough bricks of the buildings, the cracked sidewalks, and around the perimeter of her small window. Her breath puffed out against the glass, fogging it up, and she tugged her sweater sleeve down over her hand to wipe the glass. Small little circles until she could see the outside world again.

“You know.” She tensed at the sound of the voice and then instantly relaxed as she recognized it, and she turned to greet her second surprise of the morning as he continued talking. “My house keeps the internal temperature regulated. If you were there, you wouldn’t be shivering right now.”

“Bruce!” She saw his cheek twitch, under the thick scruff of a beard that he was apparently growing, just before she threw herself at him. She hadn’t been expecting him back for at least another week, possibly longer, but he was here. Arms caught her easily, swept her up into the air and pulled her in, and she locked her legs around the soft material of a padded jacket that still had cold ice starting to drip from the back of it.

“You miss me?” he asked as her arms wound around his neck. Bruce was freezing, especially against the bare parts of her skin, but she didn’t care. He’d been gone for almost a month, and she had missed him. Missed him enough to admit to it, just not to his face. So she ducked down to nuzzle under his jaw, felt the scrape of his beard against her cheek, and reached up to bury her cold fingers in his thick hair.

“I might have missed you, a little,” she whispered. He must have been wearing gloves at some point, because his hands were warm as they swept up her thighs to rest easily on her hips under her sweater. Technically, under his sweater that she had taken for herself.

“You could have missed me from the lakehouse.” His hands were warm against her back, pulling her tighter against him, and she shifted to run her cold nose against his cheek.

“And miss seeing you actually show up here? Not a chance,” she laughed. Bruce hated her apartment, hated that she had chosen to live in Gotham’s crime-filled East End, but she felt more at home here. At least, she did when Bruce was gone. The lakehouse didn’t feel like home without Bruce there.

“Will you come back with me now?” Ryan pulled back to look at him properly, and there was still a hint of a smile over his expression. Softening the line of his mouth and putting a little extra warmth in his eyes. Her hands moved to the front of his face, fingers scratching through the beard that was new and different against her skin, and she leaned forward to feel that newness against her lips.

“Only if you promise to keep this for a little bit longer,” she bargained. She tightened her thighs around him, just enough for him to feel the pressure, and felt one hand pressing solidly against the center of her back.

“Only if you promise to keep this on,” he added and used his other hand to pull on the bottom hem of the sweater she’d taken from his closet. She thought that over, the feeling of warm cotton and soft scruff against her skin, and pulled back with a smile.

“Deal.”

Here Lies [spooky #18: an ancient mausoleum, stone door crumbling]

The grass was so soft under her feet, a cushion for every step forward, but where were her shoes? Ryan never walked around outside barefoot, just in case something happened and she needed to take off running. She continued forward, and she looked up. The sky was dark, moon hanging full and swollen in the otherwise dark night, but she couldn’t see any stars. It should have been cold, but the breeze that lifted her hair from her neck was soothing. A balm against her aggravated skin, and her eyes closed as she kept moving forward. She didn’t need to have her eyes open to know where she was going. She let herself enjoy the moment. The tickle of grass against the bare bottoms of her feet, warm dew brushing against her ankles, and that rolling breeze under the starless night.

“This isn’t right,” she thought as the grass changed. The softness twisted, thickened and pushed, and her eyes stayed closed as she winced. Dead hardened grass cut against her skin, ripped at the bottoms of her feet and pulled above her ankles, but she couldn’t stop. Couldn’t go back. Had to keep pushing forward. The breeze was hot now, licking against the back of her neck like some great beast following at her heels.

Ryan opened her eyes as everything went perfectly still, perfectly quiet, and there was a door in front of her. Tall and imposing, thick stone, a darker gray even in the moonlight. One hand reached out, fingertips brushed against the center of the door, and she watched as it started to break. First, a single crack down the middle. Loud as thunder. She reached out with both hands, dug her fingers into the stone, and started to pull. Stone crumbled under her hands and landed at her feet, a fine dust to soothe the places where she was still bleeding, and she couldn’t stop. Kept pulling and tearing at the door, and when did she start screaming? Her throat burned as she screamed up at the sky, at the moon that loomed above her and slowly started to bleed red, and the stone door was crumbled into nothingness. Not even dust was left on her fingertips, and she locked her teeth together as she continued forward.

The inside of the mausoleum was cold, freezing. Her bare feet burned against the cold floor as she walked inside, and the air burrowed under her clothes to slip under her skin. This was an ancient place, colder than the deepest depths of hell, and she wanted to run. Wanted to be back in Bruce’s warm bed, with his solid arms around her and grounding her, but she couldn’t stop. She kept walking forward, always forward, and her bottom lip quivered as she looked to her right. The walls were stone, just as solid as the door had been, with names carved deep into them.

Emil Dietrich.

Her step-father always had grease on his hands, from the mechanic’s shop, and he had laughed with his entire body.

Maria Dietrich.

Her mother had a soft voice, perfect for singing lullabies and telling bedtime stories, and she had smelled like lemon and vanilla.

Harrison Dietrich.

The oldest of her younger brothers, sweet baby Harry, wanted to be an engineer. Wanted to build and create and make the world beautiful.

Bernard Dietrich.

Her littlest brother that was destined to tower over them all, fierce darling Bear, had wanted to know everything about everything. Had wanted to learn as much as he could.

Chelsea Dietrich.

Her baby sister, bubbly tenacious Chels, had been the brightest part of her life. Had come to her whenever she wanted to feel safe or needed a hand to hold.

Ryan’s fingers pulled at her hair, because she could hear them. Hear them all behind the stone, crying out. Screaming from the bullets and the fire, from the things that ripped them apart and turned them to ash. Asking where she was, why she wasn’t there with them. Hadn’t she been there with them? Torn apart, set ablaze, and locked in the darkness? Even Ryan’s screams couldn’t drown them out. Not even her apologies, for daring to keep breathing and for existing out in the light, could get them to quiet. She thought she could even hear the stone starting to shift, to break apart, as they tried to claw their way out of the darkness. She belonged with them and had left, so now they were going to join her. As the first stone cracked, allowing a small hand to slip free, Ryan stumbled away and turned to press her face against the opposite wall.

The mausoleum was filled with screams, begging questions and yelled accusations, and Ryan pushed harder against the stone wall as hands started to pull at her. Grease stained fingers around her ankles and a small hand curling around her left wrist. Her eyes opened as she was pulled back, as hands that smelled like rot and lemon circled softly around her throat, and she saw the name carved in the stone ahead of her. The name that she had pressed her face against. Thickly carved lines, stark and shining wetly in the darkness as more hands pulled her backwards. As words were whispered, asking her to stay. Telling her to stay where she belonged. Reminding her that she was never meant to leave in the first place. All she could see was that name, the only one carved on this side of the mausoleum.

Ryan Lopez.

“Ryan!”

The sound of her own name, being shouted right into her face, caused her entire body to lock up. She went completely still, senses straining and overwhelmed, and it took her a moment to realize what had happened. She’d been dreaming. The grass, the moon, the mausoleum. It had all been a dream. She was lying in Bruce’s bed, on her back with his soft sheets tangled around her ankles, and she was breathing too fast. Her entire body was pushing up against Bruce’s with every terror-filled breath, because Bruce was braced over her. Elbows sinking into the plush mattress on either side of her head, and she locked her gaze with his. The warm color of his eyes helped chase away the cold of the phantom mausoleum, and her fingers scratched against his back before flattening to push him down. She needed to feel him pressed against her, to hold her down and ground her in this moment, and she slowed her breathing to match his. To get them moving in sync. Hooked a leg around his waist and pulled every part of him against her, until she was fully compressed.

“Tell me you’ll keep me here.” Her voice was rough, she must have screamed in her sleep, and Bruce’s eyes were searching hers. Determined to find the reasoning behind her words without any context, and her legs wrapped around his as he flattened himself against her.

“Anyone that wants you, will have to go through me,” he promised her. It shouldn’t be comforting. She shouldn’t want him to stand between her and death, but she shook in relief and clawed her hands against his shoulders. Gripped the back of his hair and pulled him down.

“Don’t carve my name into stone,” she whispered against his chin. He pulled back enough to see her, for his warm breath to drift across her skin, and she’d been crying. The shifting air drifted across the wet tracks, leaving behind a lingering coldness. His eyes were analyzing, mind working through everything he knew about her, and he dropped to press his brow against hers. Pressed tight. His solid heat against her shaking softness.

“Ashes to ashes,” slipped across her lips. Ryan would never be buried. Her name wouldn’t be immortalized in stone. When she was done, she’d be ash. As she was meant to be.

“Bruce.” The hands had reached for her, pulled at her, begged her to come home to them. “Bruce.” She had wanted the darkness, still did sometimes, but she wanted this more. Wanted him more. “Bruce.”

“It’s okay, I’m here,” Bruce said against her temple. He was blanketing her now, keeping her safe and protected from the world, and she slowly started to relax. Started to come back to herself. “You’re here, with me.”

Forever Taglist: @jinxsflame @hughstheforcelou@uno-reverse-reversed @hiddenqveendom @asirensrage @ocfairygodmother @jewelswrites-ish @reggiemantleholdmyhand-tle

#answered ask #autumn aesthetic starters #oc: ryan lopez #ch: bruce wayne #bruce wayne x oc #otp: mutually assured destruction #dceu

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star-going-supernova · 3 years

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I would certainly be interested in reading the unofficial version of Damsell in Distress if it's not a problem. - Elsie

Ask and ye shall receive! It starts immediately after Maddie tells Godzilla that her dad was kidnapped and includes the beginning of the original ending. It's also incomplete, as I stopped writing the murdery part maybe 2/3 of the way through.

Please be warned, what happens isn't nice. If KiaRL was too much for you, maybe skip this one. It's similar to what Godzilla did to those kidnappers, but it's from one of their POVs, so, like, there's a bit of detail in some places. I wouldn't say it's overly graphic, but... yeah. Exercise caution.

• • •

Kidnapping, when done right and with fellow professionals, was a lucrative business. Blake Curtis knew that well.

It was with well-earned confidence that he and the other seven members of their homegrown operation relaxed in the nice office space they’d rented out for this particular venture. The building was decently far from the mark’s—no pun intended—place of residence, but not so far from the location of the organization he belonged to.

You didn’t want the fingers to start rotting in the mail, after all. And sending them in anything other than a padded envelope was bound to be memorable to the wrong people.

Being forgettable was, in all ways, the name of their game.

Blake and every last one of his associates were plain. Not a one of them was particularly attractive, or had stand-out features, or had public interactions outside of the most basic, scripted conversations. And for that reason, no one every gave them a second look. No one ever remembered them more than a few minutes after an encounter—and they certainly wouldn’t have been able to describe them.

It was an art form, and a well-paying one, at that.

Completely unconscious in one of the other rooms in the office was their newest target, a man reportedly high in the rankings of Monarch. Mark Russell: divorced—the ex was dead—father of two children—one of whom was also dead—and living with his young daughter out in the middle of nowhere. Important enough to his peers to be worth a ransom, but not so important to have a bodyguard.

They couldn’t have asked for a better setup.

With the target secured and unable to cause any problems, it was just a matter of waiting. Four of his associates had broken out a pack of cards and were coming up with increasingly ridiculous ways to cheat at their game. Alice, his cousin, was reading Pride and Prejudice by the window, sipping at some fruity drink she’d made for herself.

Ryan was napping on the couch, his hat covering his face, and good ole Winnie, the leader of their group, was typing away at her laptop.

Blake sighed, content, and leaned back in his comfortable office chair. He took a drag of his cigarette and let his eyes drift half-closed. The toe of his shoe absently slid along the ground, lazily spinning him back and forth.

A faint tremble went through his chair.

Off to his side, Alice made a dreamy noise. A burst of laughter rose up from the card players.

Another tremble, slightly stronger than the first, had him peeking his eyes open. An earthquake, perhaps? They didn’t have any neighbors in the building—they’d made sure of that—but no one else seemed to be noticing the shudders passing through the structure.

They began to increase in intensity, and the time between them grew shorter.

Snorting awake when a mug rattled on the coffee table, Ryan pushed his hat up and raised his head. “What’s doin’ that?” he asked groggily.

Alice and Winnie looked over at him. Blake stood, keeping his stance wide as the tremors grew worse.

“I don’t think this is how earthquakes work,” Alice said, sliding a ribbon into her well-worn book.

The four playing cards, who Blake now saw were sharing a couple bottles of alcohol between them, set their game aside, still giggling.

“A train?” Blake suggested. “Helicopters?”

The windows rattled, and outside, someone screamed.

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Omar said, stumbling up from his seat. He took a swig from one of the bottles. “I rem’ber this scene.” He stared into the narrow opening with one eye squinted shut.

“What are you doing?” Eli asked, less drunk-looking than the other three.

“Lookin’ for ripples. That’s how you know a t-rex is coming.”

“It won’t work if you’re holding the bottle, moron,” Dennis, which was wonderfully ironic, said. Blake didn’t pay them any attention, though, as he went over to one of the windows.

He could hear more people screaming, and despite a poor vantage point, he was just able to make out a number of people running frantically down the road. A car swerved wildly around the fleeing populace, crashing into a light pole. The driver climbed out, appearing to be muttering in a panic to himself, and took off at a sprint.

“Something’s happening out there,” he said to Alice as she joined him.

Sandy chuckled. “Maybe it’s a monster attack.” She stood and cracked her back.

An enormous crash jolted the building so badly, everyone standing found themselves grasping desperately for something to hold on to. Ryan tumbled off the couch with a yelp. Omar lost his footing entirely and fell with a strained chuckle. The glass bottle hit the edge of the table and shattered.

While Omar complained about getting bits of glass in his hands, Blake, closely followed by Alice and Winnie, ran to the roof access the office space came with.

“Maybe something crashed,” he huffed out. “A plane, or a huge pile-up—”

“If only we could be so lucky,” Winnie said, and then they were bursting out onto the roof.

He heard his cousin whisper a curse in another language, his own jaw going slack as his mind went blank with an instinctual fear.

Not a few blocks away, Godzilla stood between high-rises. He moved slowly, almost carefully—if you were willing to personify such a monster—but every few footfalls, he seemed to step particularly hard, shaking the earth.

The three of them remained frozen, watching with wide eyes, as Godzilla growled, periodically swinging his head around. Like he’s looking for something, Blake thought.

He—like most of the world—had seen footage from at least one of the past incidents involving the Titans. Godzilla in San Francisco had been all anyone could talk about for a few weeks, and the clip of him leaving the city always seemed to be playing on one news channel or another. A sensational tragedy.

It didn’t do the real thing justice. Such a massive creature—he hadn’t comprehended before now just how large Godzilla truly was. And it was different to see him with his own two eyes, where the possibility of an internet hoax couldn’t explain a thing.

“Whatever he’s doing here can’t be good,” Winnie finally said. “We should leave before any other Titans show up.”

She vanished back into the office, leaving Blake and his cousin to stare at the monster towering over them.

A disbelieving huff left Alice. “That’s not something you see everyday, huh?”

“Are we supposed to run away?” Blake asked. “Or is it like a tornado drill?”

“If Winnie says we’re leaving, then we’re leaving.” She paused as Godzilla leaned forward to sniff at a skyscraper. A few more steps, and he’d be walking entirely away from them. As it was, Blake figured someone with a better throwing arm could probably hit the Titan from where they were standing. Alice shook her head and turned toward the roof access. “C’mon, we gotta grab Russell. We’ll have to figure something else out if the drop-off gets changed.”

Since her back was facing Godzilla, Blake was the only one who say the way the monster’s head turned in their direction. His spines pulsed blue, sending a shock of fear down Blake’s own spine, and he took two thunderous steps closer to their high rise.

Blake stumbled back, suddenly unable to breath. His focus narrowed down to those inhuman, burning eyes, suddenly centered on him. His reaction must have caught Alice’s attention, because he distantly heard her scream out behind him.

For some reason, hearing her scream like that was what made Blake snap out of his daze, just in time to see Godzilla’s claw-tipped hand-paw thing closing in on their roof.

The building shook when he made contact, a web of cracks spiraling out from Godzilla’s palm. Blake lost his balance entirely, landing painfully on his tailbone. Even then, he couldn’t completely shake himself out of his stupor enough to stand, much less run.

After sniffing again, Godzilla started growling, low and dangerous. The sound of it nearly paralyzed Blake.

He managed to pull himself backward in an awkward crab-walk until his back hit the short raised ledge surrounding the roof. Through it all, he couldn’t look away from Godzilla’s eyes.

Could an animal really feel as much fury as Blake thought he could see in them?

A commotion below finally ripped away his attention. Ryan had emerged, stumbling for the soccer-mom-style van they had parked across the street. He was emitting a constant stream of panicked gibberish. Sandy was standing at the base of the building, hollering at him to hurry up and stop tripping over himself.

“Hey!”

Blake whipped around. Dennis was standing in the doorway with an impatient look on his face. “Didn’t you hear Winnie? We’re leaving!”

An odd buzzing interrupted his attempt to answer, and both men looked up in surprise. Godzilla, was above them, leaning on the roof. He had blue eyes now, Blake realized.

Dennis made a strangled sound. “What the hell—”

Godzilla’s mouth opened as the buzzing seemed to reach its peak, and a bright blue beam of light shot out from between his razor sharp teeth. Blake cried out and curled up into a ball. The heat from being so close to the beam was painfully intense.

Dennis was huddled in the stairwell when Blake managed to look over at him, ears ringing and spots popping in his vision. His jeans were darker on the insides of his thighs. Blake couldn’t even blame him.

As his hearing returned after a few seconds, he became aware of a terrible shrieking. Leaning up to look over the ledge at the ground, he stared uncomprehending for a moment before the reality of what he was seeing hit him. He turned and heaved, throwing up his lunch beside him.

He caught sight of Dennis rushing over, but he wasn’t able to warn him away fast enough, and after a moment, his colleague was vomiting over the edge of the roof.

The road below was nothing more than a scorched crater, their van reduced to a smoldering mound of metal. Ryan was completely gone, just vaporized in the heat of the laser-like beam Godzilla had shot.

But that wasn’t the worst of it.

Having been close to the beam himself, Blake’s skin felt tight, like after getting a bad sunburn. What little of his skin he could see was reddened, but not blistering.

Sandy, who’d been down there with Ryan, hadn’t been as lucky.

She must have just ventured away from the building when Godzilla fired, not close enough to share Ryan’s fate, but closer than Blake.

What he’d seen would haunt his nightmares for years to come, he suspected. The writhing mass of flesh, with bubbling sores, all melted in on herself, was unlike anything he’d ever seen. The roof was too high for him to have seen details, but he’d gotten the impression that Sandy’s face was nothing more than a smooth plane, her open mouth the only remaining orifice.

Dennis was babbling as he remained hunched against the ledge, but Blake couldn’t make himself understand any of the words.

Gagging over the sour taste lingering on his tongue, Blake shrunk back as he looked up at Godzilla, just in time to see the monster huff with his eyes half-lidded. It was an expression of satisfaction if he’d ever seen one.

“Wha’s goin’ on?” Blake heard Omar say.

Godzilla’s hand lifted from the roof, just as the man drunkenly stumbled through the door.

“Someone’s screamin’ down there,” he told them, rather pointlessly. “Winnie’s all worked up ’bout it.” He kept walking, apparently somehow missing the giant lizard monster looming right over them.

Blake saw it coming a moment too late. “Omar—!” he cried, reaching out as if he could shove the man to safety.

But he couldn’t, so he watched helplessly as Omar squinted in confusion as Godzilla’s hand slammed back down, squishing the man with disturbing ease.

He'd seen a snake, once, flattened on the roadside. Like a flat drawing. Omar was reduced to that, to a thin, bloody pile of viscera. His jeans were still visible, bunched up on themselves. Empty. Leaking.

Dennis groaned and threw up again, this time, on their side of the ledge. While he was distracted, Godzilla’s blood-dripping hand swept upward, on a collision course for the both of them. Blake yelled wordlessly and dove forward, ducking.

With a meaty thwack, Dennis was swatted up into the air. He shrieked as he fell, and the abrupt silence made Blake gasp out a terrified sob.

Why is this happening? he wondered hysterically, scrabbling at the rough concrete to try and put some distance between himself and the monster. But there was no safety to be found.

Godzilla once more returned his bloody hand to the rooftop, and Blake heard the way the building began to crumbled beneath the pressure. A large hole broke through the top floor’s ceiling with a grating crash, Godzilla’s hand mercilessly sinking into the building.

It was then that Blake heard the Alice’s screams.

(a few more deaths that I never wrote happen here. Blake is the only one left alive)

For a second, Blake thought he was about to witness Godzilla swallow a man down whole. That Mark Russell—who should be glad to still be unconscious—would disappear behind those teeth and never be seen again.

Instead, Godzilla made a rumbling noise so very different from his growls, and turned his back on the building. There was a mind-boggling gentleness in that blood-stained jaw, holding a human as if he were aware of how delicate the man’s body was.

It scared him, the possibility that Godzilla could be aware like that. Intelligent.

Blake slumped bonelessly against the rooftop beside the large hole and breathed a shaky sigh of relief. The blue sky was suddenly blocked by something gray, casting him in a shadow, and his last thought was of realization—that Godzilla’s tail was about two seconds away from demolishing the building and him with it.

He didn’t even have time to close his eyes.

• • •

Only a few hours after Maddie’s brief interaction with Godzilla, reports of the King entering a decently sized city reached Castle Bravo. He didn’t seem to be moving with aggression, or in response to a threat, so G-team was left largely on standby.

Everything changed quickly. There were suddenly alarms going off, people shouting, and panic spread like wildfire through the halls.

Maddie watched with a dull sense of bewilderment as Castle Bravo employees ran in and out of the control room, frantic and jittery. Having grown tired of sitting numbly on the floor, Maddie pushed to her feet and carefully wandered through the chaos.

Unwilling to interrupt anyone, she merely listened in, and through her unsubtle eavesdropping, learned Godzilla had apparently gone berserk on some humans in an office building. Just straight up murdered eight people.

No one seemed to know why—whether he’d been provoked somehow, or whether he’d simply gone into a city with the intent to kill.

Griffin suddenly appeared at Maddie’s shoulder, startling her. “C’mon, kid, we’re getting you out of here, all right?” She gently but firmly wrapped her fingers around Maddie’s upper arm and smoothly guided her out of the room.

“You’re not going after him?” she asked, hurrying to keep up.

“We will, but only after we get the handful of civilians back to the mainland.” She cast Maddie an apologetic glance. “Emergency protocols, kid. Ilene’ll join you soon to stay with you until we get things figured out.”

An Osprey being piloted by Griffin and another G-teamer took off a few minutes later, carrying seven civilians who had all been at Castle Bravo for different reasons. Maddie recognized two of them from the investigators for her dad’s kidnapping, and she tightly gripped the edge of her seat. If Godzilla’s totally uncharacteristic attack got her dad killed or something because Monarch had to set the case aside, she’d be having words with him.

Even with aircraft as fast as the Ospreys, the flight still took over an hour. Long enough for Maddie to slip in and out of a doze, never quite falling all the way asleep. It left her feeling even more tired by the time they landed.

They literally couldn’t have made the journey shorter, since the Osprey dropped them off within throwing distance of the ocean. A Monarch warehouse sat in a large industrial park, complete with an impressive pier jutting out into the water.

While the other civilians went inside, Maddie wandered out to the end of the enormous dock, where she sat down and dangled her feet off the side. It was high enough up that she couldn’t have touched the water even if she hung off the edge completely.

She lowered herself to her back and tried to keep her mind nice and empty. No thoughts were better than bad ones.

She wasn’t sure how long she stayed like that, though it couldn’t have been too long, when she heard the splashing of something moving through the water.

Maddie sat up, instantly surprised to see Godzilla approaching the pier, his head held oddly above the surface. She’d never seen him swim like that.

He rumbled at her as he got closer. Squinting, Maddie saw that he had something in his mouth, held careful between his teeth. She couldn’t tell what it was.

An animal of some sort, maybe? Regardless, she quickly stood and backed up, since Godzilla seemed to be aiming to deposit his cargo where she’d been sitting. He leaned up, the rumble only growing in strength, and carefully spit out the thing in his mouth. She had only a moment to appreciate how hilariously smug he looked with himself as he sank back to a comfortable depth, and then she was looking at the creature he’d presented her with.

She couldn’t have been more shocked if she’d been hit by a bolt of lightning. Maddie darted forward and collapsed painfully to her knees with a strangled little yelp.

“Dad!” she cried, frantically tugging and pushing at him. “Dad, please!

He was definitely breathing, which almost made her burst into tears on its own, but then his eyes sluggishly opened at her call, and Maddie gracelessly collapsed against him. Hugging someone who was half-unconscious and entirely restrained was awkward at best, but it was still one of the top five hugs she’d ever participated in in her life.

She heard him slur something back, quiet and raspy and still very out of it, but she was pretty sure it was her name.

“I should go get someone,” Maddie realized. It felt like she’d been dropped into a world that moved twice as fast as she did, or like she’d been trapped in slow motion since her dad had been kidnapped.

Luckily—because she wasn’t sure she could have pried herself away from her dad—someone seemed to have taken notice of Godzilla’s appearance, and a crew of people were already running out to them.

Before they could reach her, Maddie turned to Godzilla with a lump in her throat. “Thank you,” she said, trying to inject every ounce of her sincerity, and then some, into those two, utterly inadequate words.

#i answered a thing #Elsie #godzilla fic #life and times of star

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andieperrie18 · 4 years

Text

DANGEROUS (twilight x beautiful creatures)

Dark Caster!Reader x Paul Lahote

Attempt oneshot part 1

Y/n did not like this at all.

“You have got to be kidding. Out of all places.” Ripping her pink-tinted shades off her eyes, her eyes remained to the signage planted before her.

The Quileute Indian Reserve in La Push, Washington, the very place she never thought she would be back in. Not that she hate the said city specifically but rather the place the resides beside it. Seeing the sign sent her with blunder flashback, both the good and the bad. How did she not know she that she would end up back here?

“Why do I have to be there, isn’t aren’t Uncle Macon, and you five enough witness for the Swan girl’s kid? Larks, I have places to be.” Y/n stared at her newly painted nails, her phone squeezed between her shoulder and cheek with her other hand occupied with the nail polish brush. Sitting by the window seat with the full view of the city of love where she has been staying for quite a long while.

“Sorry sis, Momma’s orders. Rid’s lover boy and cousin Lena with her wayward is coming here as well. It be a nice reunion as well.” His sly tone forever present in his voice. She still loved him to death as Y/n would do everything in her will to protect her love ones whether she is a dark caster or not. Despite the claim for her true nature is as black as a soulless person. She did her very best to protect younger and only brother from the curse her dear cousin Lena unluckily possessed. She didn’t blame her for anything at all as an ancestor’s fault isn’t their predecessor’s fault as well.

“Tempting but no. The Cullen’s are at the Denali’s and they situated the meeting here. So don’t worry about your wolfy friends coming by any time soon. Even if they do, you know we’ll back you up.” Smiling, the blonde haired caster followed it with a sigh. Y/n did miss her siblings and she been far away long enough. Besides, she hasn’t used a majority of her powers for quite a while now. She could use the challenge.

“Alright, great! We’ll see you soon sis. Reece and Ryan are going to flip when they see you.” Still staring at the view before her window, her mind drifted elsewhere. Her past. The love that she found in the reserve and the heartbreaking tragedy that had to be fall her and her past partner when he phased into a werewolf.

Larkin had just tricked her that the digital map had gave her straight passage to the Denali’s Coven. Her chest drummed as her breath turned irregular. The light grey sky began to shift to a darker hue as the flashing became more transparent and roar of rumbling thunder grew twice as loud.

The blonde haired male stared at the distance as the hurricane build from the distance. A smirk grew on his chiseled face.

“Where is she now Larks?” the youngest Duchannes stared at the same direction as all who stood in the grassy clearing did the same as well. The Cullen’s and the two Packs lead by Jacob Black and the other by Sam Uley. The thundering roars of the dark sky gravitated faster towards the direction of the clearing.

“She is coming.” The same sinister smile never left him before taking a quick glimpse at a particular pack who were sure that they saw the look she gave.

Carlisle turned the gray haired man that looked about in his fifties but still walked like a healthy man. “Macon, may I ask whom we are waiting for? Is this person we are waiting for really crucial?” the blonde vampire had thought that his dear old friend had already brought his whole coven and with the abilities of these people possessed, even his wife and adoptive children knew that the Volturi won’t even have a chance to fight back.

Macon smiled and placed a hand over the man’s shoulder. “I know you think we’ve had enough since my hybrid niece is here but I like to consider this as a way to reunite my dear nieces and nephew. We haven’t used our powers for quite a while and it would be really great if we are to fight along side of you as a complete family.” As he patted Carlisle’s shoulder and they continued to watch the dark clouds roll towards them.

Sam knew that this group that stood before him and his pack were mortal yet half of him could not help but think of them as something a lot more supreme. Jacob Black stuck beside his young imprint, he felt quite nervous to tell the truth. Vampires never scared him but somehow this family and the coming hurricane did. Paul remained a bottled anger to prepare himself to whatever the threat that was coming but he wasn’t prepared of what version of this threat would come in.

The dark horde of clouds had reached the clearing, covering it with darkness. Then they all heard it in the woods. Its foot steps dropped like big foot’s large and heavy strides. Everything felt scary.

“*Crack, Crack*”, “What the hell!!” Bolts of lightning began to hit the ground every second as a figure emerged from the woods.

“Did you really have to lie to her just to have her come hear, you know how much she hates mutt.” This earned a growl from the Uley’s Beta glaring at Ridley. Link consoled the girl but didn’t really do much as even Ryan, Reece and Lena had been eyeing the shape shifters some dirty looks for quite a while now.

“you better make your niece’s stop their staring before I gouge their eyes out with my own hands—”, “Paul stop! Calm down.” The third in command tried to hold the short tempered time bomb as his ragged breath quickened.

“You dare speak to me, animal!” Macon raised his voice this time, worsening the events. Paul started scrambling from Jared and Embry’s hold on him. Completely ridding the two of and he let himself phased into a wolf and began his mad dash towards the old man Ravenwood. Neither of the caster inched a movement and didn’t even looked shaken as they knew what could come upon this ravaging mutt.

He lifted of the dirt ground and pounced towards old man. His fangs unsheathed and waited for it to reach his flesh. Until a thunder bolt flew down between and his prey, sending him away rolling around the dirt.

“Don’t even try to put your filthy paws on uncle, Lahote.” The wolf scrambled to his feet, eager to take on the one responsible for throwing him off. Only for him freeze the moment his eyes met a pair of golden glowing ones.

“Y/n.”

#twilight x beautiful creatures #beautiful creatures #beautiful redemption #twilight new moon #twilight quilette boys #twilight imagines #twilight imagine #twilight breaking dawn #stephanie meyer #margaret stohl #kami garcia #quileute #sweet revenge

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lovehaswonangelnumbers · 4 years

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New Post has been published on https://lovehaswonangelnumbers.org/message-to-lightworkers-august-28th-2020-victims-and-saviors/

Message to Lightworkers, August 28th 2020 ~ Victims and Saviors

By Caroline Oceana Ryan

This week’s guidance from the Ascended Masters, Galactics, Earth Elementals, Fae Elders, Angelic legions, and Archangels known as the Collective:

Greetings, friends! We are very pleased to have this moment to speak with you today.

Recently a Light Bringer commented to our writer about a channeling she had received for him, from one of his guides.

He wrote:

“In a recent channeling you did for me, my guide said that I am not the savior of the planet.

What I learned from that was, that we as Lightworkers are anchoring many Light codes that have helped bring about many changes and current situations on the planet.

It is our job to bring in the higher Light/energy so that the necessary changes can take place.

What she said also showed me that my most important job is to stay strong, to focus and take care of myself, and not be concerned or worried or stressed about what is going on in the world around me.

Our jobs as Lightworkers is to keep our energy/Light as strong as possible.

By doing this we are enabling our energy to flow, which will allow for a stronger fifth dimensional Light to be distributed around the planet.

If we worry and stress about all the chaos and madness going on simultaneously, this only diminishes the strength of our fifth dimensional Light, which is used to build the New Earth, and at the same time, protect the planet from the darker energies.

So by focusing on ourselves, and having the attitude that all is taken care of and all is complete, we are doing the greatest good that we came here to do.

That might sound selfish, but this is how we stay strong and focused, and stand tall and let our natural abilities as Lightworkers accomplish the most good.

We should not feel guilty about being concerned about ourselves and taking care of ourselves first. This is what we came here to do.”

Our writer recently channeled another message from another spirit guide, who offered almost the exact same message.

And she has pondered the point about guilt, as she and so many others were raised with the idea that “It is better to give than to receive,” which is a mistranslation of the text that has led to many misunderstandings of the original teaching.

It is of course possible to understand that this is a misteaching, and not a solid Truth for Light Bearers at this time.

Yet the subconscious is powerful.

Many still carry the feeling that they owe it to their fellow humans to give to the point of imbalanced overgiving, because it is for one thing difficult to see others suffer, and for another, hard to shake off centuries of learned self-negation.

We would say that this is indeed a time when many look out onto the world and see many in despair, weighted by experiences of hunger, homelessness, and unemployment, of illness or environmental destruction, and other dense situations.

And it is very easy to move from a moment of viewing those circumstances to feeling the compulsion to save or rescue those in difficulty.

And certainly, to help out here or there with solid advice, financial contribution, a meal, or smile or kind word of encouragement—all of that is a beautiful moment of connection with another.

In that moment you are sharing something.

They have blessed you with the chance to give, and you have blessed them with the chance to receive.

You are not fooling yourself that you are taking away their pain in any complete way.

And yet—your kindness reassures them that they are worthy to receive, and are gathering to them the tools and resources needed to stand on their own, to be well again or housed or employed again, to believe in themselves and their life path again.

A beautiful thing indeed!

And you yourself have realized that you are also Abundant; that you have plenty to give and plenty to feel wonderful about.

This is especially true when you are not feeling particularly Abundant, and for example, decide to give regularly 10 percent of all the money that comes to you as a gift and encouragement to a group or individual that inspires you with their work.

That number of 10 being the number of increase, you then bless your own situation—your income, your health, your relationships, and more—with the steady outflow of money that is simply a form of life energy.

The imbalance comes from the belief that giving should be compulsive or come from a need to rescue another.

We would agree with the channelings above, that the rescue idea, based on the victim/savior paradigm, is an idea whose time has well passed.

It is a belief based in scarcity teachings, and on self-denial, that says, “Others are more valuable than me. More worthy of Joy and fulfillment, while I am worthy of self-sacrifice.”

This is a strange and demanding time to be on the planet, and so you will need to watch your emotional and mental vibration, friends, as well as your etheric vibration, so that you do not shift either into despair or into “rescue mode.”

You can avoid that by sending higher Light to any person or place that appears to be suffering now, such as to the populations of California facing extreme fires, among other western states.

Send Light to their people, trees and wildlife, their homes, schools, and hospitals.

Send Light to the people of Beirut and their whole country of Lebanon as they rebuild themselves after disaster.

Send Light to those who are ill, or fearful for a loved one who is ill.

Light to those afraid of becoming unemployed, or who have done so, and are not receiving adequate income.

Light to those not able to make their rent or mortgage, or pay for health insurance.

Certainly you do not have the outer resources to make all this, and all of Earth’s other pains and challenges, suddenly fade away.

Yet you can envision all of these situations solved, just as you can envision NESARA Law fully enacted, and all persons living in Abundant and fulfilling circumstances.

You are correct if you are thinking that all will not be ironed out overnight.

Yet know that were you in the etheric, viewing Earth from the distance of being no longer in physical life, you would do no less.

You would not have the luxury of “rescuing” others, and would have to work with them energetically, as they were open to such, in order to assist them.

Recall from deep within you your complete confidence in energetic solutions that find their way outward to physical ones, and draw on that experience.

Assisted by your spirit guides and higher self, you are perfectly suited to help to transform your world, yet in ways that simply empower and encourage others, rather than take them off of their path.

The time to look for saviors and rescuers is well over, friends.

You have come in to learn how to love and trust yourselves and your own higher instincts. You lead the way in that path, as in so many others.

And so allow that particular kind of Joy and relief from heavy burdens, by letting go of that which is not yours to carry.

Care about others, most assuredly.

Yet grant that they are powerful enough (perhaps, far more so than you!) to create their own solutions, and that your love for them points that out, with complete confidence in all they are able to transform.

Namaste, friends! So much Joy awaits you, and begins to unfold for you now.

We are with you, always.

If you repost, please maintain the integrity of this information by reprinting it exactly as you find it here, and including the link to the original post.

Thank you.

******

All of Creation Is watching Earth and witnessing its Ascension Process. They are ready, ready for this Planet to be Declared a Light Only Zone. All of Humanity are called upon now to Step Up in fulfillment of their Divine Soul Contract.

The dark has been cleared, fully defeated and New Earth, Nova Terra, is ready to begin. This requires each Being to fully clear the remaining density within their bodies, to awaken to full remembrance of their Galactic Truth, their Soul Essence, their Divine Blueprint.

This is not a Drill, in Real Time, Present Moment of Now Mother of All Creation is on the Planet and she is Our Divine Director, Our Eternal Mother. She hired you for this role and She is here to guide you.

Mother has the entire Galactic Federation of Light and all the Angels with Her in all moments. She also has Her guide/ambassador Robin Williams and Master St. Germain by Her side. There is no session like this available on the planet, or in all of Creation.

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pollylynn · 4 years

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Title: Bespeak WC: 1100

Today, she remembers to do her mirror check before she exits her unmarked and ducks her way under the crime scene tape. She doesn’t always remember. That’s a problem because, number one, the Castle–Rodgers clan should come with a hard on the wardrobe warning label, and number two, her dangerously observant co-workers think it’s the height of hilarity to scan her from head to toe each day to see—and/or to fabricate, as necessary—what’s been happening lately on the Family Circus, as they like to call it.

They tell her this new form of abuse is because she’s an old married lady now. They tell her that this is the only fun she brings to the table. But the truth is they miss him. The boys do, Lanie does.

They all socialize more. They make a point of the Old Haunt and poker nights when they can, all of it early so Ryan can be home for what he swears is Sarah Grace’s bedtime, but they all know is his designated honey milk date with Jenny. But they all miss him tagging along on cases, and she, unfortunately, finds herself a the intersection of the nosiness that translates into and the constant assault on her work clothes by the Castle–Rodgers clan.

Martha’s specialty is the drive-by swipe of lipstick on the cheek, and it’s not like Kate owns an untoward amount of white, cream, or otherwise light-colored clothing. Too much at that end of the spectrum is an invitation to blood spatter and other undesirable substances a cop is likely to encounter regularly. But even with her penchant for blacks, greys, and darker neutrals, Martha favors a very bold, very persistent lip color. So on any given day Kate might find it’s her collar, the placket of her coat or blouse, her sleeve that bears the imprint of her mother-in-law’s flamboyant affection.

Martha stories are Ryan’s area of expertise, and he mostly deals in factual or close enough guesses. He is uncannily good at guessing what Martha might have been wearing from the shade. From the location of the smear—from whether Kate has been successful or unsuccessful at scrubbing it entirely from her cheek—he’s damned good at extrapolating Martha’s mood, at guessing whether she was rushing out or sleeping in. He’d actually stolen Kate’s thunder the morning she’d emerged from the elevator with a wide smile on her face.

Martha got that part? That’s great!

Castle’s brand of havoc doesn’t really bear examination. He is hell on buttons, zippers, and any other kind of fastener. Each and every morning he acts as though it is his life’s work to immediately remove whatever item of clothing she has just tried to put on. And hands as large as his—as reliably clumsy in almost every other respect—really should not also be so devilishly fast and dextrous in this. For her part, she shouldn’t fall for his feints and misdirections as often as she does. He’ll go for her cuffs as though they are his sole concern and by the time she moves to slap his hand away, he has her whole top unbuttoned to the waist.

It’s practically a full-time job dressing and re-dressing herself to get out the damned door in the morning, and when she finally makes it to a scene, it’s Esposito’s awkward purview to point out that she’s managed to zip up part of an errant shirt tail, she’s missing a button here, there, and everywhere, or the she’s managed, in her distraction, to misalign every last fastener on her blouse, her blazer, her coat.

He’s not usually big on crafting a story to go with the day’s wardrobe malfunction. She’d be more grateful for that if she didn’t have the distinct impression that he stores them up and tries to make Castle’s ears burn when the boys have their no-girls-allowed video game nights.

Castle’s clothing-related disruptions, of course, require the investigative skills of no fewer than two people, of course. Lanie is on turtleneck, high collar, and unseasonal scarf duty. On the days when she’s feeling generous—or maybe on the days the boys have annoyed her enough that she’s not inclined to join in the games—she’ll simply toss a knowing smirk Kate’s way. On Kate’s less lucky days, there’s all manner of commentary on exactly how married life must be treating Detective Beckett.

She hadn’t thought about staying off Lanie’s radar today. She sighs at her reflection in the visor’s flip down mirror. She’s not even hiding anything. The white turtleneck she’d pulled on is perfectly weather appropriate, and it’s still going to bring her all manner of grief. She swipes on the flash light on her phone to at least do a lipstick check. A strategic smear might even be in order to jump start Ryan, who’ll want to know absolutely everything about Martha’s rehearsals. If Kate is lucky, he’ll refuse to yield the stage to Lanie’s Love Bite Theater.

But there’s nothing on her cheek or anywhere else she can see that would have a name in the jungle cat family or be mistaken for the title of long-forgotten erotica. And now that she thinks of it, Martha was too caught up in the prospect of her wardrobe fitting to give either her or Castle so much as an air kiss this morning.

But there’s a shimmer of something on the peach side of pink, just below her right cheekbone. Alexis, she remembers, and her hand halts in the act of swiping away the sweep of color. It was a sweet, sudden thing. A little thing for a member of the unrelentingly affectionate Castle–Rodgers clan, she’s sure. But for her, it was unexpectedly touching in the moment. It’s unexpectedly touching now.

She almost wants to leave it. She almost wants one of them to guess—all of them to guess—that this morning on the Family Circus, she got a spur-of-the-moment Bye, Kate kiss from her stepdaughter. It’s a little thing, something she’d be too embarrassed to say out loud, even to Lanie, but it means something to her.

She doesn’t leave it, of course, that shimmer of something on the peach side of pink. She finds a napkin and wipes her cheek clean. She looks at the transfer of color on to the white. She folds it in half and tucks it into her pocket for safe keeping. It’s a silly, sentimental gesture, but it means something to her. A/N: Hmm. This was going to be more about the “thinking about . . . it” conversation. And then it was about lipstick. The grandmother I knew best was very much about leaving lipstick smooches. My other grandmother was ill—in a nursing home—for the short time I knew her. She didn’t wear lipstick. I wonder if she would have—if she did—in life before Parkinson’s struck. Double Hmm. images via homeofthenutty

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fearsmagazine · 3 years

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INFINITY'S GATEWAY - Review

INFINITY'S GATEWAY

By: James S. Parker Publisher: Morgan James Publishing Trade Paperback: $18.95 ISBN: 9781631951107

Synopsis: INFINITY'S GATEWAY opens on with a historical mystery that transpired on December 5th, 1945. A group of planes on a training mission, known as Flight 19, vanished off the coast of Florida. Over the years the strange events gave rise to all manner of wild theories and speculation, but most often it is the idea that Flight 19 was a victim of the “Bermuda Triangle.”

The novel jumps from there to the present day and an unexplainable event occurs off the coast of Florida, which sets off all manor of monitoring equipment at the Pentagon. Upon analysis of the data it is obvious that it is an event that the military cannot ignore. The Navy ship Eclipse and its crew are sent to investigate the area. After several weeks with now real results they make preparations to head back to their home port. However, the event reoccurs and the Eclipse is caught in something it cannot escape. As they begin to shake off the effects of what they just experienced the crew find themselves completely isolated, with all communication lost. As they begin to probe their new location and surroundings they find themselves in a terrifying hostile environment where even with all their tech and state-of-the-art weapons they will struggle to survive.

Review: James S. Parker’s INFINITY'S GATEWAY is an engaging science fiction thriller with tones of Michael Crichton and Tom Clancy. To fans of the science fiction genre it will feel like an old friend with a surprising, and exciting new makeover.

A quick read, Parker keeps the reader on the edge with well crafted plotting. Each chapter draws to a close like a classic cinematic cliffhanger. He gracefully dolls out the plot to give the reader a bit more information and reveals a few more details of his characters like a master card player at a high stakes poker game. Too often science fiction writers serve up these swollen tales that feel burdened by the glut of scientific facts and theories, as well as ostentatious character development that can leave you feeling overwhelmed. Parker gives himself breathing room and seeds the reader’s imagination with just the right amount of facts and details to allow the story to blossom. There are times I wanted to, need to, put the novel down but still thought, “Oh, one more chapter.” When I did have to put it down and come back later, Parker has a knack to his prose that allows the reader to fall right back into the rhythm of the narrative.

He offers the reader easy access to the primary and secondary characters that are well crafted and not simply some military or scientist cliched stereotype that are oven over exploited in genre literature and cinema. You perceive that these people are veterans and specialists at their jobs, but more importantly you feel like they’re people you know, and the author makes them highly likeable, even if they possess a darker side. There is an aspect to his character of Colton, who emerges as his main character, that I felt reminiscent of Clancy’s Jack Ryan and Brown’s Langdon. Again, I loved all these characters; Mackay, Garrett, Tanner, Father Ryan, etc.

There are touches throughout the story where you get hints that Parker is a genre fan as he makes references to a bunch of pop culture series and films. They’re such nice “Easter eggs” that I'm Intentionally being vague so as not to spoil anything.

INFINITY'S GATEWAY possesses a cinematic feel. Reading the novel I couldn’t help calling to mind many genre films I’ve viewed through the years, which only added to my excitement reading this tale and sprinting to the end. Based on that statement, I often assumed where I thought he was going with the plot or the action, but he never failed to surprise me. Still, this was one of those rare occasions where, and I know how often Hollywood tends to mess things up in the adaptation, I would love to see this epic adventure turned into a feature film or a series.

Why does the novel come to a close on such a nail-biting cliffhanger? It is a series. I don’t like to read through the press materials before I read a novel as it can pepper my expectations. There are times that it can do an injustice to the reading experience. Once done with the book I’ll leaf through the press material. And there it was. INFINITY'S GATEWAY is the first novel in a trilogy. Mr. Parker I’m hooked. I’m already jonesing for the further adventures of the crew of the Eclipse, and I know you are playing that Argos (I get the mythology reference) card close to your vest, so please don’t keep me, keep us, waiting too long for the next installment in the series.

Publisher’s Site: www.morgan-james-publishing.com Author Site: www.jamessparker.com Reviewed by: Joseph B Mauceri

#book review #INFINITY'S GATEWAY #James S. Parker #morgan james publishing #joseph mauceri #science fiction

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turtleinsect1 · 3 years

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, it is advisable that you begin with a really low, preferably anywhere within a series of 50 mcg to 75 mcg and after that boost gradually from there with time as you analyze just how your body reacts to it. As pointed out earlier, beginning at a high dose raises your possibilities of experiencing a Melanotan-II trouble such as nausea. In case you aren't sure regarding your ability to reconstitute the peptide properly, you can make use of Lovemelanotan peptide calculator. Besides, you have to guarantee that you do not take excessive or too little of the medicine. It deserves keeping in mind that for you to get the most effective Melanotan results; you must use Melanotan-II as a constant therapy. The starting dose ought to be followed by additional Melanotan dosages for maintenance function until you obtain your desire complexion. Additionally, there are irregular Melanotan-II adverse effects throughout longer tests as well as they consist of much more freckles, dimming of lips and darkening of blemishes.

Effect of Melanotan-II on mind Fos immunoreactivity and also oxytocin neuronal task as well as secretion in rats. Just visited customers who have acquired this product may leave an evaluation.

Free Example Male enhancement dish can aid countless men with impotence, Melanotan 2 Sex drive is your trusted product. The big worry is that by influencing the shape, size or colour of moles, Melanotan can lead to an inaccurate medical diagnosis, duds or unneeded operations. According to them, the product is being "marketed and sold illegally".

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Melanotan can be found in powder form as well as is meant to be reconstituted with clean and sterile water prior to subcutaneous injection. As a result, if clean and sterile water is not used, the injected medicine might be polluted and this may result in some health and wellness problems such as infection.

It simply appears means too severe to obtain a tan, spray tans are certainly the only choice I would consider. If you are normally extremely pale I would never ever trouble with sunbeds, it's a meaningless and also unneeded danger for a marginal outcome. Some of my member of the family utilize it as well as in my point of view, and i like my phony tan, it looks also orange. It does not look all-natural and u can tell a mile off that its been utilized. I did have some pictures however they are charred to an old CD of times gone by, secured somewhere among a million various other images. This is what occurred to people in my town - they look ridiculous. Usually i would make use of fake tan, however im not also keen on using phony tan as do not want to spoil my dress, but do not want to be pale.

Deal With Dehydrated Skin To Hydration.

Melanotan is an artificial hormonal agent that works by raising the levels of melanin, an all-natural dark pigment in the skin. https://ita.melanotan.eu/product-category/vial/ sell Melanotan 2 online as the product is not in fact illegal for consumers to buy, yet the British Organization of Dermatologists' Matt Gass said organizations such as SunKissed must be a lot more liable. The Facebook message, which was taken down the other day, offered five 10mg vials of the medicine for ₤ 20 as part of the studio's 'autumn sale'. If you have actually already used Melanotan consult your General Practitioner quickly if you have experienced any adverse effects or are worried about using sharing needles.

Participants may not use to supply or help with the unlawful supply of AAS, POMS or other regulated medications on TMuscle or its messaging systems. TMuscle does not approve or support the unlawful supply, ownership or use any type of medication. TMuscle acknowledges making use of AAS POMs (prescription-only medications) and also other performance-enhancing substances in bodybuilding today. It intends to provide dependable info on their risk-free administration, side effects and also threats. I use St Tropez, but you do have to ensure to clean off all the excess tan the adhering to day, specifically under your arms. She was an untidy orange colour, looked like she required an excellent bath.

How long does Melanotan last?

Nevertheless, the primary aim of Melanotan 2 is skin tanning and so, not everyone who uses it will experience a change in their sexual arousal. In a case where the drug has an influence on sexual arousal, the person is most likely to feel the effect 1 to 3 hours after dosage. The effect mostly lasts for 2 to 4 hours.

When we discuss Grime form this era, we're speaking about MCs. This was waaay prior to the crucial revival had appeared and even I 'd entirely moved away from generating for them at this point. In all sincerity I think individuals simply obtained bored of that trend quickly as well as it passed away out, however Bashment pirate radio did freak for this, and also I keep in mind tuning in as well as hearing someone chatting over Claude VonStroke's 'That hesitates of Detroit', ffs. Extra from Marcus once more, and this kicks things off with one of my favorite under-the-radar deep cuts DJ Mystery's Amazed (ft. Melanotan1 ) which advises me of a summer holiday where I stayed in with the curtains attracted. Allow's kick things off below with the mix that started everything for me, Marcus Horrible's 1xtra mix from '08. This involved my interest when it was linked in a string on Grimeforum hypothesizing regarding why some DJs had changed categories, and also had discuss Mac10 as well as Perempay additionally leaving 140 to sign up with your home songs fold. Mr Unpleasant was playing a lot of these songs before any individual else, as well as I feel this both envelops the spirit of the emerging style, and showcases simply the number of hits appeared in such a short time.

Stunning Tan I No Time.

The editor as well as customers' affiliations are the most up to date given on their Loop research study accounts and also might not reflect their circumstance at the time of evaluation. Melanotan is a peptide, which allows your skin to have all-natural security against UV Rays. Tanning injection or Melanotan shots are growing in popularity and even though they are technically illegal to be marketed below in the UK, they are readily available online by a number of vendors. The "leading up tan" injection, Melanotan, has actually remained in the information once again with reports of individuals seeing their moles quickly grow and colour darken. Maintain infusing Melanotan 2 every various other day as well as have one to 2 sunbed sessions a week until you have the colour that you prefer. like a pen, and also at 90 degrees to your skin, promptly put the syringe right into your skin. Locate a fleshy location of your skin - 4cm to the side of your belly switch is the most typical.

is worried by discovering Bremelanotide (PT-141), an dysfunction-focused by-product of the drug. Both Melanotan II peptide and Bremelanotide were patented and accredited offer for sale to as well as utilize by biotechnology business for possible development into valuable prescription drugs. Target MT II Conjugation Unconjugated Availability Shipped within 5-10 working days.

Once in a while, this web site might additionally consist of links to various other websites. These links are offered your benefit to offer additional details. We have no duty for the content of the connected site. In spite of experiencing similar negative effects, Nicola additionally continues to utilize Melanotan. " I was nervous regarding injecting myself yet I lay on the sofa, grabbed my stomach as well as stuck the needle in," she says.

The safety of these products is unidentified as well as they are unlicensed in the UK.

So they determined to find a much more durable and steady choice, one that would be more effective.

They located that while it seemed to work, natural MSH had a short half-life in the body to be functional.

They presented to examine to see if providing MSH an all-natural hormone to the body to see if it was an effective approach to generate sunless tanning.

Melanotan is not a certified medicine in the UK as well as to sell the medicine is a criminal offense. There are currently no statistics or numbers regarding the amount of have utilized or are using the Barbie drug. The medication can either be injected or breathed in with a nasal spray. Moreover, the combination of researching melanocortin system sensitivity throughout weight problems as well as macronutrient consumption has not been performed before.

Fabricated Dental Fluid Characterisation: Potential For Use As A Referral Matrix In Medicine Testing.

Undoubtedly Melanotan II is just among a variety of illicit medicines that are available to acquire. This is worrying, since as this research demonstrates, the medicines do not always have the energetic materials as marketed. Legal law of these drugs pose considerable obstacles for the future, specifically due to the fact that producers, suppliers, internet site holding and repayment processing might all be based in different countries. Keeping an eye on the need as well as distribution of immoral compounds is notoriously hard, and researchers must utilize novel approaches to quantify making use of such medications. One such method is tracking the medicine using the Internet through on the internet chat rooms and Internet analytic services. Tan shots do not give security to UV damages-- it is categorically incorrect that they do.

Focusing on a solitary 2 year duration appears pretty silly, however this isn't contacted be some kind of de-facto overview to the Funky category, more what the music suggested to me at the time. I had lost an excellent close friend to self-destruction, and this bring about a complete social withdrawal for me. I would certainly left pirate radio also and also I just didn't really have the heart to play what I was known for playing anymore. Melanotan Switzerland buy cheap is a complimentary online forum for body builders, powerlifters, strongmen and anybody aiming to enhance their figure as well as speak to like-minded individuals.

Item is prepared forLABORATORY RESEARCH USAGE ONLY. The product might not be made use of for various other objectives. It is unlawful to ship or offer the drug however except consumers to buy it. The centre reported that users were entrusted sores and also tummy pains and in one case, call centre employee Chantelle Tolson was left scarred forever by abscesses caused by the injections. Figures from Glasgow Medication Situation Centre, which is run by Transforming Factor Scotland, exposed a 42% boost of Melanton individuals, up from 152 in 2014-- 2015 to 263 in 2015-- 2016. This year, the centre has already seen 414 individuals that have actually utilized the injection. In spite of the potential wellness threats, such as sores and also belly cramps, even more people are utilizing this solution in Scotland than ever before, according to data from needle exchanges. This research study demonstrates the high degrees of accessibility of Melanotan II on the online market and also how simple it is to acquire illegal medications with a standard Google search.

Melanotan.

Shangke Chemical is a state-of-the-art business concentrating on energetic pharmaceutical intermediates, with a a great deal of seasoned specialists, a first-class manufacturing devices and laboratories to control the top quality throughout manufacturing. You can infuse Melanotan peptide below the skin or into the muscle mass; anywhere you can pleasantly reach on your body. Squeeze the skin loose from the muscle and also elevate it to permit the needle to pass through the fat layer of the skin. MT2 is after that soaked up right into the blood stream as well as spreads out uniformly throughout your body.

Does Melanotan change eye Colour?

Although usage of the melanotan peptides is reported to darken hair color of red-heads and gingers (not pure-blondes however) and in canines, it has not been reported to change eye color.

Considering that there are numerous online Melanotan-II providers, it's very simple to get a Melanotan buy. The challenge comes when you do not get correct and also safe instructions on exactly how to carry out the medicine or if you fall short to follow them to the t. It is suggested that you make certain that a Melanotan-II source is authentic prior to you get the peptide as there are many quack Melanotan-II providers. By so doing, you'll make certain that you are utilizing the genuine medication, not something that may end up doing even more injury than good to your body. In such instances, a sex-related efficiency enhancement medication that does not necessarily need physician's prescription can be found in helpful. Melanotan dysfunction renovation capacity is just magical. When it involves sexual concerns, such as disorder, some individuals favor handling them on their own instead of needing to go to a doctor to stay clear of sensation embarrassed.

In no other way can any kind of form of shot give you a safe tan without side-effects. If one point is for certain, it's that there's a lot of incorrect details around online about the effectiveness and also safety of melanin injections. " They have not been effectively examined, are not controlled as well as the reports of destructive adverse effects are typical and so they must be prevented", states Dr Ross. " There have actually been instance reports from customers of Melanotan of moles which have actually quickly changed as well as become darker", states Dr Sophie Shotter, acclaimed cosmetic doctor at The Aesthetic Skin Clinic. " Doctor would be extremely anxious about anything which 'boosts' melanocytes, as a result of the same dangers associated with stimulating them through sunshine or sunbeds i.e. cancerous adjustments."

#melanotan eu #melanotan europe #melanotan products #melanotan for sale

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dustedmagazine · 4 years

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Dust Volume 6, Number 8

Angel Olsen

Now half a year in the pandemic, we’re starting to see the emergence of quarantine records, whether in the trove of reissues hastily assembled to stand in for new product or home recorded projects made with extremely close friends and family or albums that are conceived and written around the concept of isolation. Music isn’t real life, exactly, but it lives nearby. And in any case, it’s still music and can be good or bad whether it’s been unearthed from a forgotten box of tapes, recorded at home without collaboration or side people or technologically gerry-rigged so that distanced partners can work together. So, as long as you all are making music, we will continue to listen and find records that move us, as the world burns all around. This edition’s contributors included Patrick Masterson, Andrew Forell, Tim Clarke, Jennifer Kelly, Bill Meyer, Jonathan Shaw, Justin Cober-Lake and Ray Garraty. Enjoy.

+ — #playboy (Deluxe Edition) (self-released)

#playboy (deluxe edition) by +

One of the most genuinely confounding records I’ve heard this year comes courtesy SEO-unfriendly artist + aka Plus Sign fka Emanuel James Vinson, a Chicago rapper, city planner and all-around community activist who spends his time helping with the city’s Let’s Build Garden City initiative when he’s not making music (which is frequent, by the way — take a look at the breadth of that Bandcamp discography). The concept with #playboy, originally released in April but deluxed in late May, is simple: Two kids find a music machine called #playboy in their basement and start tinkering with it. Its childlike whimsy is conveyed in the song titles (“Getting the Hang of It,” “Wake Up Jam (Waking Up)”) every bit as much as it is in the music, with occasionally grating indulgences, the odd earworm and a brief appearance by borderless internet hip-hop hero Lil B that makes perfect sense in context; the kindred spirit of that community-building cult auteur is strong here. You may wind up loving this record or you may wind up hating it, but I can promise you this: You’ll be thinking about it and the artist behind it long after it’s over.

Patrick Masterson

Actress — Mad Voyage Mixtape (self-released)

I once suggested Darren Cunningham mucks about with his music because he can’t help himself. That was about six years ago on the occasion of his purported “final” album Untitled; with the benefit of hindsight, we can see he was (like so many others, to greater or lesser consequence) just pulling our leg with that PR. Hell, he’s released two albums worth of music in July alone: The first was the mid-month surprise LP 88, which follows in the vein of his acclaimed high period as an often brilliant, occasionally frustrating patchwork of submersible beats best played at high volume with a low end. The second came at the end of the month in an m4a file shared the old fashioned way on a forum via Mediafire link, nearly an hour and a half long, and per the man himself, “All SP-303, sketchbook beats, recorded this past week [the first week of July] straight to recorder or cassette.” It feels very much like a homespun Actress mixtape and is probably best thought of as livelier accompaniment to 88 but, even still, there’s no noticeable drop in quality — once Actress, always Actress. If headier lo-fi beat tapes are your beat, this will slot comfortably in line.

Patrick Masterson

bdrmm - Bedroom (Sonic Cathedral)

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Hull five-piece bdrmm play a satisfyingly crepuscular version of shoegaze on their debut album Bedroom. Ryan Smith, his brother Jordan on bass, guitarist Joe Vickers, Danny Hull on synths and drummer Luke Irvin combine the widescreen sound of Ride with a cloak of gothic post-punk. Like the late, lamented Girls Names, bdrmm find a sweet spot where atmosphere and dynamics either build to euphoric crescendos or bask in bleak funereal splendor. Bedroom seems deliberately sequenced from celebration to lament. “A Reason To Celebrate” evokes Ride at their most anthemic, the tripping staccato driven “Happy” summons the spirit of The Cure of Seventeen Seconds before the pace drops for the second half, the songs become quieter and darker as the band finds a more personal voice. “(The Silence)” is an ambient whispered wraith of a thing, “Forget The Credits” impressively mopey slowcore. bdrmm don’t always transcend their influences, but this debut is an atmospheric treat if your taste runs to the darker end of the musical buffet.

Andrew Forell

Circulatory System — Circulatory System (Elephant 6 Recording Co.)

Circulatory System by Circulatory System

Nearly 20 years after its initial release, the excellent eponymous debut album by Will Cullen Hart’s psychedelic chamber-pop band Circulatory System gets a long overdue vinyl reissue. While his previous project, the undeniably great Olivia Tremor Control, tended to lean more towards classic psych-pop’s traditional tropes — hard-panned drums, loads of disorientating tape effects, wonky harmonized vocals — Circulatory System taps into something utterly uncanny. Both Signal Morning (2009) and Mosaics Within Mosaics (2014) have their moments, but this is front-to-back brilliant, conjuring a sublime atmosphere of reflective estrangement. The music is a thick, grainy soup of shimmering instrumentation, from the eerie (“Joy,” “Now,” “Should a Cloud Replace a Compass?”) to the joyful (“Yesterday’s World,” “The Lovely Universe,” “Waves of Bark and Light”), but part of the album’s magic is the way everything flows into a seamless whole. As is vinyl’s tendency, the rhythm section really comes alive here, the fuzz bass and tom-heavy drum parts booming out, with plenty of vivid details in the mix swimming into view. A worthy reissue of an essential album.

Tim Clarke

Cloud Factory — #1 (Howlin’ Banana)

Cloud Factory #1 by Cloud Factory

Cloud Factory, from Toulouse, France, overlays the serrated edges of garage pop with a serene dream-pop drift. It’s an appealing mix of hard and soft, like being pummeled to death by pillows or threatened gunpoint by a teddy bear. “Amnesia,” for instance, erupts in a vicious, sawed off, trouble-making bass line, then soars from there in untroubled female vocals. Later, “No Data,” punches hard with raw percussion, then lays on a liquid, lucid guitar line that encourages middle-distance staring. None of these songs really up the ante with memorable melodies, sharp words or that intangible R’NR energy that distinguishes great punk rock from the so so. Not loud, not soft, not great, not bad. Cloud Factory resides in the indeterminant middle.

Jennifer Kelly

Entry — Detriment (Southern Lord)

Detriment by Entry

Nuthin fancy here, folks. Just eight songs — plus a flexing, fuzzing intro — of American hardcore punk. Entry has been grinding away for a few years now, and Detriment doesn’t advance much past the musical terrain the band marked off on the No Relief 7-inch (2016). That’s OK. The essential formula is time tested: d-beat rhythms, overdriven amps and Sara G.’s ferocious vocals delivering the necessary affect. That would be: pissed off, just this side of hopeless. Detriment sounds like what might happen if Poison Idea (c. 1988) stumbled into a seminar on Riot Grrrl; after everyone got tired of beating the living shit out of one another, they’d make some songs. “Selective Empathy” is pretty representative. Big riffs, a breakdown, and more than enough throaty yelling to let you know that you’re in some trouble. You might recognize the sound of Clayton Stevens’ guitar from his work with Touché Amoré — but maybe it’s better if you don’t. This isn’t music for mopery. Watch out for the spit, snot and blood, and flip the record.

Jonathan Shaw

Equiknoxx — VF Live: Equiknoxx (The Vinyl Factory)

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There’s nothing like a little roots music to get you through the sweltering summer heat, and this early July mix by Gavin “Gavsborg” Blair (half of forward-thinking Kingston dancehall unit Equiknoxx) was a personal favorite of the past month for hitting that spot. The group tends to throw curveballs at the genres it tinkers with, and Blair’s mix highlights why they’re so good at it: The crates run deep. Spanning everything from legendary producer and DJ Prince Jazzbo to in-house music fresh out the box (e.g., “Did Not Make This For Jah_9” was released in late May), Blair sets the mood and educates you along the way. Like everything else these cats do (and that includes the NTS show — support your independent radio station!), it’s hard not to give the highest recommendation.

Patrick Masterson

Ezra Feinberg — Recumbent Speech (Related States)

Recumbent Speech by Ezra Feinberg

Knowing that Ezra Feinberg is a practicing psychoanalyst, it’s tempting to read meaning into the name of his second solo album. But be careful to think twice about the meaning you perceive and ask yourself, is it the product of Feinberg on the couch or your own projection? His choice to name one of the record’s six instrumentals (there are voices, but no words) “Letter To My Mind” certainly suggests that there’s an internal dialogue at work, but the music feels most like a layered deployment of good ideas than an exchange of intrapsychic forces. The synthesizers shimmer and cycle like something from a mid-1970s Cluster record, resting upon a pillow of vibraphone and electric piano tones, which in turn billow under the influence of undulating layers of drums. Feinberg’s guitar leads are bright and pithy, like something Pat Metheny might come up with if he knew he was going to have to pay a steep price for every note he played. Ah, but there I go, projecting an implication of adversary process where there may be none. Might it be that Feinberg, having spent a full work week immersed in the psychic conflicts of others, wants to lay back on the couch and exhale? If so, this album is an apt companion.

Bill Meyer

Honey Radar — Sing the Snow Away: The Chunklet Years (Chunklet)

Sing the Snow Away: The Chunklet Years by Honey Radar

Jason Henn of Honey Radar has a solid claim at being his generation’s Bob Pollard, a prolific, absurdist songwriter, who tosses off hooky melodies as if channeling them from the spirit world. His least polished material glints with melody hidden beneath banks of fuzz, whispery and fragile on records, but surprisingly muscular in his rocking live shows. This 28-song compilation assembles the singles, splits, EPs and bonus tracks Henn recorded for Chunklet between 2015 and the present; it would be a daunting amount of material except that it goes down like cotton candy, sweet, airy, colorful and gone before you know it. Like the Kinks, Henn has a way of making strident rock and roll hooks sound wistful and dreamy. In “Lilac Pharmacy,” guitar lines rip and buck and roar, but from a distance, hardly disrupting Henn’s placid murmur. “Medium Mary Todd” ratchets up the tension a bit, with a tangled snarl of lick and swagger, but the vocals edge towards quiet whimsy a la Sic Alps; a second version runs a bit hotter, rougher and more electric, while a third, recorded at WFMU, gives an inkling of the Honey Radar concert experience. A couple of fine covers — of the Fall’s early rant “Middle Class Revolt” and of the Monkees rarity “Wind-Up Man”— suggest the fine, loamy soil that Henn’s art grows out of, while alternate versions of half a dozen tracks hint at the various forms his ideas can take. It’s a wonderful overview of Honey Radar so far, though let’s hope it’s not a career retrospective. Henn has a bunch of records left to make yet if he wants to edge out Pollard.

Jennifer Kelly

Iron Wigs — Your Birthday’s Cancelled (Mello Music Group)

Your Birthday's Cancelled by IRON WIGS

As an adjective, “goofy” had gotten a bad rep in hip hop. Anything that is unusual, inventive and not in line with “keeping it real” is immediately stigmatized as goofy, weird, nerdy and bad. Iron Wigs is goofy but hold the pejorative connotations. Chicago representatives Vic Spencer and Verbal Kent team up here with Sonnyjim from the UK to do some wild rhyming. They collaborated before, but Your Birthday’s Cancelled is a complete, fully fleshed project, masterfully executed from start to finish. Instead of the usual gun busting you get a fist in the ribs. Instead of drug slinging, a blunt to activate your rhymes. Each member of the group has a distinctive delivery which makes you to listen carefully for every verse, no skipping. It’s a relief to listen to rap artists who don’t pretend they’re out in the streets while they’re at home enjoying a favorite TV series. The standout track here is “Bally Animals & Rugbys” with Roc Marciano dropping by for a verse.

Ray Garraty

Levinson / Mahlmeister — Shores (Trouble In Mind)

Shores by levinson / mahlmeister

Jamie Levinson and Donny Mahlmeister’s Bandcamp page indicates that they’re based in Oak Park, a suburb of Chicago. This goes further towards explaining their association with Trouble in Mind Records, which is located in the same county, than their music, which brings to mind something much further north. The duo’s music is mostly electronic, with modular synthesizers setting the pulse and sweeping the pitch spectrum while lap steel guitar adds flourishes and a shruti box thickens the textures. The album is split into two, with each track — one is named “Ascend,” the other “Release” — taking up one side of a 50-minute cassette. The first side trundles steadily onwards, and the second seems to bask in a glow to that never totally fades. Since there’s no “Descend,” it’s easy to imagine this music sound tracking a drive into the Canadian north, the journey unspooling under a sky that never darkens, its progress towards Hudson Bay unhindered by other traffic or turns in the road. Perhaps that’s just one listener’s fantasy of easy social distancing and escape from the present’s grim digital glare into a retro-futurist, analog dream. But in dreams we’re free to fly without being seated next to some knucklehead with his mask over his eyes instead of his mouth, so dream on, dreamers. This tape is volume one of the Explorers Series, Trouble in Mind’s projected program of limited edition cassette releases.

Bill Meyer

Klara Lewis — Ingrid (Editions Mego)

Klara Lewis’s latest recording shows a narrowing of focus. Previously she seemed to be trying ideas and methods on for size, investigating ambient electronics or hinting at pop melody without completely committing. Given the approach to music modeled by her father, Graham Lewis of Wire and Dome, she probably does not feel the need to do just one thing, and that’s a healthy angle if one wants to stay interested and flexible. But there’s also something to be said for really digging into an idea, and that’s what she has done here. Ingrid is a one-track, one-sided 12.” Burrowing further into one-ness, it is made from one looped cello phrase, which gets filtered and distorted on each pass. The effect suggests decay, but not so much the gradual transformation of a William Basinski piece as the pitiless abrasion of a woodworker going over a plank with sander. The combination of repetition and coarsening hits a spot closer to one that Tony Conrad might reach, and that’s an itch worth scratching.

Bill Meyer

Luis Lopes Humanization 4tet — Believe, Believe (Clean Feed)

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The cruel economics of contemporary creative music-making favor an ensemble like Humanization 4tet. At a minimum, the filial Texan rhythm section of Stefan and Aaron Gonzalez (drums and bass respectively) and Lisbon-based duo of Rodrigo Amado (tenor saxophone) and Luís Lopes can each count on having the other half of a band on the other side of the Atlantic. But any project that’s on its fourth record in a dozen years has more going for it than the chance to save on plane tickets. For the Portuguese musicians, it’s an opportunity to feel an unabashedly high-energy force at their backs, as well as a chance to drink from a deep well of harmolodic blues. And for the Gonzalez brothers, it’s the reward of being the absolute right guys for the job; it has to be a gas to know that the heft they put into their swing is so deeply appreciated. While Lopes’ name remains up front, everyone contributes compositions, and everyone gives their all on every tune.

Bill Meyer

Joanna Mattrey — Veiled (Relative Pitch)

Veiled by Joanna Mattrey

This solo CD, which closely follows a collaborative cassette on Astral Spirits, is only the second recording with Joanna Mattrey’s name on the spine. But Mattrey is no newcomer. The New England Conservatory-trained violist has been playing straight and pop gigs for a while. If you caught Chance the Rapper on Saturday Night Live, Cuddle Magic with strings or a host of classical gigs around New York City, you’ve seen her. But if black dress and heels gigs pay her bills, improvised music nourishes her heart. And if sounds raw enough to scrape the roof of the world nourish yours, this album is new food. The premise of Veiled is finding veins of concealed beauty concealed, and that search impels Mattrey to tune her viola to sound like a horse-haired Tuvan fiddle, clamp objects to the strings and blast her signal through some satisfyingly filthy amplification. And whether it’s a slender tune or a complex texture, the reward is always there.

Bill Meyer

Angel Olsen — “Whole New Mess” single (Jagjaguwar)

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Everyone processes a breakup differently (though, to be fair, that’s probably less true now than ever). For Angel Olsen in 2018, it meant retreating to The Unknown, a century-old church in Anacortes, Washington, that Mount Eerie’s Phil Elverum and producer Nicholas Wilbur made into a recording studio. What ultimately came from those sessions was All Mirrors, but Whole New Mess is a chance to revisit that album (fully nine of these 11 songs are ones you’ve heard before; only the title-track and “Waving, Smiling” are new) in a more intimate framework — just Angel, a guitar, a mic and her reverberant heartache. The most cynical view to be taken here is that it’s a stopgap capitalizing on people’s vulnerability amid a pandemic quarantine, but it could also be a corrective for the bloat of All Mirrors, a record I listened to once and haven’t thought about since. Late Björkian excess doesn’t suit her nearly as well as the light touch delivered herein, and your interest will similarly hinge on how much Whole New Mess sounds like the old one.

Patrick Masterson

Ono — Red Summer (American Dreams)

Red Summer by ONO

Ono, the long-running noise-punk-poetry-protest project headed by P Michael Grego and travis, tackles the Red Summer of 1919, evoking the brutal race riots that erupted as soldiers returned from World War I. During that summer, conflicts raged from Chicago to the deep south, as white supremacists rioted against newly empowered returning Black veterans and an increased number of Black factory workers employed in America’s northern factories. Ono captures the violence—and its links to contemporary race-based conflicts—in an abstract and visionary style, with travis declaiming against an agitated froth of avant garde sound. “A Dream of Sodomy” lurches and rolls in funk-punk bravado, as travis declaims all the nightmarish scenarios that haunt his nocturnal hours, while “Coon” natters rhythmically across a fever-lit foundation of hand-drums, mosquito buzz and flute. “26 June 1919” wanders through a blasted, rioting landscape, sounds buzzing and pinging and roaring around travis’ fractured poetry. “White men, red men, Manchester town, send ‘em home, Oklahoma, send ‘em home, in a Black man house, send ‘em home, send ‘em home,” he chants, ominously, vertiginously. The center isn’t holding, for sure. The disc closes with the uneasy truce of “Sycamore Trees,” where steam blasts of synthesizer sound rush up and around travis’ vibrating, basso verses about meeting under the sycamore trees, a metaphor like the blues and gospel and nearly all Black music is full of metaphor about reuniting in a better place. Powerful.

Jennifer Kelly

Julian Taylor — The Ridge (Howling Turtle, Inc.)

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Singer-songwriter Julian Taylor does the little things well. That's not to say that he doesn't do the obvious things well, too, on his latest release The Ridge. His easy voice fits his songs, letting autobiography come with comfortable phrasing. As a writer, he tends toward the straightforward, avoiding extended metaphors or oblique references. The title track considers a particular form of life, and Taylor sticks to the tangible, singing about the stable, “Shovel manure, clean their beds, and prepare the feed for the day.” Taylor's songs make sense of the immediate world and relationships around him, but they avoid woolgathering. The album feels a bit removed from the current climate, but that's no complaint when Taylor's developed a welcoming place to visit. It isn't always easy here, but it's always companionable.

But back to those little things. Each song has carefully detailed orchestration and production. The record goes down easy whether tending toward James Taylor, Cat Stevens or something closer to country, and much of that easiness comes from the precise placement of every note. Burke Carroll's pedal steel, for instance, never exists for its own sake, but to serve the lyric that Taylor sings. The album contains enough space to feel like a rural Canadian ridge, with details drawn into to support Taylor's direct stories. The Ridge could easily go unnoticed (unobtrusiveness not being a highly rewarded trait), but its subtlety and care make it worth taking your boots off and sitting down for a minute.

Justin Cober-Lake

Various Artists — For a Better Tomorrow (Garden Portal)

For A Better Tomorrow by Various Artists

Compilation albums loom large in the American Primitive Guitar realm. Takoma, Tompkins Square and Locust all had larger ambitions than merely offering a sampling of wares, and to them, Garden Portal says, “hold my beer. I’ve got some collecting and playing to do.” For A Better Tomorrow started out as a Bernie Sanders fundraising endeavor. But when Bernie bailed and COVID-19 came on the scene, Garden Portal pivoted to support Athens Mutual Aid Network, an umbrella organization that coordinates aid to the underserved in this trying time. But in addition to good works, there’s some good work going on here. Not all of it is guitar-centric, but even the tracks that aren’t are close enough to the strings and heart template of the aforementioned parties to merit consideration under the same rubric. Joseph Allred’s been ultra-productive recently, so it’s actually helpful to be reminded of the spirit that infuses his playing by listening to it one track at a time. Rob Noyes’ “Diminished” takes the listener on a deep dive into the construction of sentiment and sound. And Will Csorba’s Pelt-like blast of fiddle drone, “Requiem for Ociel Guadalupe Martinez,” will put your hair up high enough to make that self-inflicted quarantine do a bit easier to execute.

Bill Meyer

Various Artists — The Storehouse Presents (The Storehouse)

The Storehouse Presents by The Storehouse

The coronavirus pandemic put the brakes on many things. You doubtless have your own list of loss, but for the proprietors of The Storehouse, the catalog of things kissed goodbye directly corresponds to their endeavor’s inventory of reasons to be. Over the past few years, the Storehouse has invited audiences out to a West Michigan farmhouse to enjoy a potluck meal and a concert played by some musicians of note. If there had been no lockdown, listeners could have enjoyed the Sun Ra Arkestra last April. Instead, no one’s playing, and no one’s getting paid, so the Storehouse has compiled this set of live and exclusive studio tracks to sell on Bandcamp in order to benefit the musicians and the Music Maker Relief Foundation. The cause, is good, but so are the tunes. Want to hear Steve Gunn and William Tyler in sympathetic orbit? Or Joan Shelley pledging her love? Or the first hints of Mind Over Mirrors’ new direction? Step right this way, preferably on one of 2020’s first Fridays.

Bill Meyer

Z-Ro — Rohammad Ali (1 Deep Entertainment / Empire)

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On one of his previous tracks, Z-Ro admitted that he’s basically just writing the same song over and over again (that’s how meta he is now, writing songs on writing songs). While he exaggerated a bit, he was not that far from the truth. In the last half dozen years he’s been writing the same three or four songs in various combinations, reconfigurations and forms. Rohammad Ali follows the same template: haters hate him, but he’s OK and is counting his money. Multiply this by 17, and here is the album. Despite this self-cannibalizing (lots of poets did that), Z-Ro with every new album sounds fresh and far from tired. The self-repeats just fuel him. Rohammad Ali has only one rap guest, and it’s Shaquille O’Neal whose rap career didn’t jump off in the 1990s. A lack of guests only proves that Z-Ro can self-sustain without support from the outside. The only thing from the outside he needs is hate.

Ray Garraty

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bhandarimarblekishangarh · 4 years

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Granite That Mesmerize your home

Each and every year, stone and tile trends change constantly in the architectural and design communities and can be difficult to keep up with. We at Contemporary Stone & Tile Design magazine wanted to get opinions from different architects and designers around the country to find out what they are seeing, and what they expect to see. Before getting into the trends they are seeing, let’s spend a little time getting to know those who are about to answer:

Lori Wiles— “I’m a true Midwesterner, born and raised in Missouri, now living in Iowa. Growing up, I spent lots of time in the working barns and classic farm houses in my rural area. My capable and creative mom gave me ample opportunity to draw, paint, sew and build things for fun. That led to a degree in interior design and a long career in the field. I’ve always been especially interested in interior architecture and how it impacts the people who use the spaces. My interior design firm specializes in planning new construction and re-modelling with the end user experience in mind.”

Ryan Thewes— “I grew up in Southern Indiana and graduated from Ball State University. After graduation, I was fortunate to get a job in Chicago, IL, working for a former Frank Lloyd Wright apprentice –

Don Erickson. The incredible experience of working for Don introduced me to the theories of Wright’s organic architecture which, amon

g many other things, focused on the use of natural materials and the creation of space. I expanded on my education of organic

architecture by also working for Robert Green, a former Frank Lloyd Wright apprentice in Atlanta, GA, and eventually an apprenticeship with Bart Prince in Albuquerque, NM. I am currently practicing out of Nashville, TN.”

Maxim Nasab— “I am the principal and founder of Apexx Architecture, a firm specializing in bridge architecture and recreational piers. Our firm is located in Tallahassee, FL. I am originally from Montréal, Canada. I got into architecture because it allowed me to pursue my love of science and technology, but also allowed my creativity to flourish. Architecture has the power to change cities for the better for generations. It is a profession that can truly make the world a better place and architects have the responsibility to ensure this through their designs.

I believe in designing for the people and the greater good rather than fame or recognition. I believe that great architecture is derived from honesty and transparency. Using local natural materials and allowing the structural system to express itself by integrating it within the design. Whenever I walked in buildings, and even today, I always tried to guess the materials that buildings were structurally supported by. It always made me a little sad when materials were not honest or true, or the structure was not evident. This is one reason why I went into bridge architecture. It is very hard to hide the structure of a bridge, and instead I always try to enhance its visibility, express its beauty and make it clear to the user as to how it is supported. Anyone should be able to walk in.”

Charmaine Wynter— “I am Jamaican Canadian, and an international multi-awarded interior designer with projects spanning the residential and hospitality sector. My natural design talent began to make its emergence in 1981, surprising family and friends, but it wasn’t until the late 1980s that I took it seriously and enrolled in an interior design program at a recognized college. I founded my design firm in Toronto, Canada in 1996; and later transitioned to the Dallas, TX, location in 2016, where it is now headquartered. Now many decades post-graduation, as principle designer, I jet back and forth to work projects of interest on both sides of the Canadian and U.S. boarders — infusing each with my signature distinctive luxurious living design aesthetics.”

Dawn D. Totty— “I started 25 years ago and it was fast and furious in New York. When I transitioned from there to the south, I was 1,000 miles away. I had to start from scratch. I had to reinvent myself. That was challenging.”

Trends with stone

One of the first things I discussed with each of our participants were the trends they were seeing with stone in particular. Over the years, the popularity of engineered stone has fluctuated, while natural stone seems to be extremely popular with some people rather than others. According to Wiles, she is seeing more people interested in using stone in their homes and offices than even a few years ago. “From my perspective, it’s become easier than ever to find the perfect material for any project with all of the stones available,” she said. “I particularly like the uniformly colored stones at the extremes of light and dark palettes. These make a great statement and give some confidence that a color palette can change through the years without having to change the large areas of stone.”

Wiles isn’t the only one that sees the popularity in natural stone. Thewes, Nasab and Wynter all agree with her. “What I have been seeing is a lot of natural materials, natural colors and natural tones,” said Nasab. “Limestone is really popular along with granites that have that limestone look. Minimalism and honesty in materials is coming back strong and will be here to stay for a while. Clients and users are craving that real feeling when they touch materials, which is why a lot of the companies are working hard to mimic that look and feel. Some of them are getting really close, too.”

Thewes is seeing a lot more requests for stone as the popularity of “Mid-Century Modern” design continues to rise. “I think part of this is because people still want modern design, but are turned off by the cold sterile nature of some of it,” he said. “The use of natural materials like wood and stone help soften the design yet allow us to keep a strong modern aesthetic. Linear stacked stone complements these types of projects perfectly by emphasizing the horizontal line and providing a defined texture that works well in opposition to smooth surfaces like wood, glass and drywall. Depending on the budget, we have had some pretty good success with engineered stone. However, for the more discerning client, it is tough to beat natural stone. While the wide range of colors are still often used and will never go out of style, we are seeing more of a request for darker colors. Almost black in some cases.”

Wynter is seeing popularity with quartz surfacing because of its look and durability. “Quartz is extremely popular with clients seeking a marble look, but the durability only provided by engineered stones,” said Wynter. “Stone is such a luxe material with its many faceted sheens and textures that there are trends within a trend. However, in general, I’m using more cool-toned hues with larger veining and fissure movement within the stone than a few years ago.”

Totty sees it not only with natural stone but also with quartz, because of how they look. “Patterns, movement and more color is making its way into the realm of interior design with the usage of quartz and marble being the forerunners,” said Totty. “Stone pigments that are currently trending are soft greens, grays and neutrals that are a wonderful complement to today’s interior design trends.”

When it comes to application of stone, according to Wynter, it is being more of the norm with her clients. “What’s great is that as the use of luxury stones are becoming more the norm, my clients are relaxing and spaces are more often taking on a casual luxe style,” said Wynter. “I’m using stone on the flooring, countertops and backsplashes, fireplace facades, accent walls and in outdoor living rooms.”

“While fireplaces continue to be the place that people think of using stone first, I like to incorporate stone in lots of areas in a home like kitchens and bathroom,” said Wiles. “In commercial settings, a stone wall or columns are a fairly easily constructed feature that suggests stability and permanence. I’ll consider using it in any area that I think needs a great visual weight to help balance out the space.”

For Thewes, he is seeing the most common use for stone is in accent walls for both residential and commercial projects. “The ability to light the walls really accentuates the texture and draws attention to the feature,” said Thewes. “This is very effective in commercial projects where traditionally, more sterile and simple materials are used. The stone offers a good break from these materials while also providing a durable and maintenance-free surface.”

For Nasab, he is seeing stone used primarily for exterior paving, stairs and plazas. “It really enhances the site and gives it that extra touch of beauty, especially when it’s a natural stone,” he said.

Totty is utilizing marble and granite in big ways, such as installing it onto kitchen walls for a bold and elegant statement. “Kitchen larders, countertops, backsplashes and even floors are some of my favorite uses for granite, quartz and marble,” said Totty. “Both commercial and residential projects are now implementing stone surfaces to create a regal look with the benefit of durability.”

Tile Design Trends

When it comes to designing with tile, it seems that the material is a lot like stone, especially for Totty. “Floor-to-ceiling tiled walls in kitchens and bathrooms, and even laundry rooms, are very popular,” she said. “In many cases, the tile is the dominating focal point to a room’s decor.”

According to Nasab, whose area of expertise is not tile, he has noticed that tiles have continued to evolve and currently they are still hitting strong with mimicking the look of natural stone.

One thing that stands out to Thewes with tiles are the extremes they go to with size. “Tile size trends have continued to swing away from the standard 12- x 12-inch tile to either extreme,” said Thewes. “Either very small or very large, depending on the application. For our projects, we still focus on the more earthy and muted colors that are more simple and less busy. Black and white are timeless and can be adapted to any style or aesthetic so they are always popular.

“There has been a pretty significant rise in the popularly of the wood plank tiles that gives the look of a wood floor, but the durability of tile,” Thewes went onto say. “I tend to shy away from materials that pretend to be something they are not, but I have seen a quite a few of these fake wood products that are very well done.”

Wiles has also noticed the different types and feels of tile that are currently on the market. “I continue to be amazed at how many tile designs there are and excited about the tactile finishes they have now,” said Wiles. “We’re seeing our client’s willingness to use a variety of shapes like hexagons, octagons and circles increase. They’re now open to shapes that would have been unheard of just a few years ago. It also seems that tile manufacturers have become really in tune with current color palettes and color palette projections, which helps designers use their products more easily.”

“Tiles are dimensional and showing up in large formats,” said Wynter. “Pattern is back after a long rest so we are embracing lace, ethnic and graphic print on wall and floor tile. Keep your eyes peeled for hues of green and coral — especially this year.”

As far as applications go, according to Wiles, “Beautifully tiled bathrooms are the number one request from homeowners so we’re designing fully tiled showers, tub surrounds and backsplashes. The development of the really large-scaled and textural tiles that mimic other materials makes feature walls a big hit as well.”

Wynter said that tile will always be the strongest in commercial applications due to its durability and resilient nature, but it is making strong headway into the residential arena as the popularity for outdoor backyard oasis’ increase. Totty agrees with Wynter in the outdoor use of tile. “Outdoor kitchens are now showcasing tiled areas for durability, as well as aesthetics,” said Totty. “Tile is still the first choice for most home and commercial installations, in particular, shower walls and floors, laundry and mud rooms, as well as entryways for low maintenance and easy clean-up.”

“For tile, floors are still the main use,” said Thewes. “Occasionally, we will see an accent wall or something similar executed, but mainly floors and shower surrounds are most popular.”

Trends moving forward

Finally, we asked these architects and designers about the trends moving forward for both stone and tile.

Totty– “Tile with graphic, bold patterns and colors are quite favorable and are being used as statement makers in powder rooms, kitchen floors and laundry rooms to create that ‘wow’ factor in interior design. Granite and marble with movement are now used as art. Matching up patterned seams and placed vertically on walls in high-end hotel lobbies creates an amazing show stopping affect to any wall.”

Wynter— “Green is coming on strong as a trend color that has made it to classic status, so I predict we will see green marbles, green granites in all hues from glass to jade, as of green slates.”

Nasab— “I believe that natural colors will stay for a while, especially in stone. It is hard to beat natural stone, especially now that it has become much more affordable. What I am seeing in tile is black and whites coming back. That modern minimalistic design is coming back strong. There is no better material than stone in terms of natural beauty and bang for the buck. I would encourage designers and clients to find local quarries and start from there rather than hit the foreign stones right off the bat. It really is a beautiful thing to use materials that are locally sourced and they truly make the projects feel as if they belong in the site they are built on.”

Thewes— “Looking into the future, I don’t really see much of a change for tile other than possibly an increase in use due to its durability. It’s a battle between what the client desires more, warmth or durability. However, I do think that the use of stone will continue to rise as it provides both warmth and durability. As the quality of engineered stone improves, costs should go down and using stone in projects will no longer be a major drain on budgets. Durability and low maintenance are always important client requests and this material fits right in with that while also providing a major increase in quality and design. The addition of stone to any project increases its value and the perception of cost.”

Wiles— “I think we will continue to see natural and natural-looking hard surface materials in demand. These will be used in larger areas and combined with other materials that have more of an artisan vibe to create really durable, tactile and friendly environments. Tile and stone are really designer’s friend. Once you know how to best use them and have great craftspeople to install them, they can transform any space.”

Added by expert and export team of Bhandari Marble World…………………..

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paceprompting · 5 years

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Corruption Pt. 1

@ryane-monju requested both hannigram and merthur, where Merlin is Will’s cousin and with dark!Arthur and Hannibal. I know I completely dropped the ball at getting any prompts out in a timely manner, but hopefully I can be a little bit forgiven with this first piece. I think I’m planning on splitting this request up into little mini-chapters, so hopefully you find this first one entertaining and want more!

~~~~~~

Arthur slid his fingers under the running water, along the flat end of the blade, wiping the fresh blood from the metal and down the drain. Arthur watched it with strange fascination until all traces of red were gone. There was soft clatter behind him - the rustle of plastic and the back and forth of voices - as he finished with the knife, wiping the blade and handle with an antiseptic wipe and placing it back into its stand with the others.

Before Arthur could step away from the sink, a hand came over his shoulder and reached for the knife, lifting it gingerly from the block with two fingers. It swung in front of Arthur’s face for a moment before the wrist flicked and Hannibal was holding the knife properly, blade pointing up as he inspected it with a focused gaze.

“I thought you said no fingerprints.” Arthur commented, eyeing Hannibal’s hands as he further inspected by grazing the knife with his fingers.

“It is my knife,” he answered, finally placing the knife back where he had found it. “My fingerprints are supposed to be on it. It would be more suspicious if there were no fingerprints.”

Arthur flushed and clenched his hands around the edge of the counter. He’d hoped to do well with this kill - impress with what he had learned so Hannibal would keep him around.

Hannibal was quiet, staring off toward the back of the house where his partner, also his husband, was finishing with the clean-up. Arthur was familiar with the man, vaguely from before he went under Hannibal’s wing, and better now after some time.

Arthur waited for Hannibal to continue the conversation, unsure he could do so without further embarrassing himself. His nerves crept up his spinne, starting to fill up his chest with doubt. Hannibal had always commanded with fear and respect, and fear was starting to win out.

Hannibal spoke, finally, accent lilting up with amusement, “You are very good with a blade, Arthur.”

Arthur resisted the urge to preen with the compliment, swallowing down his excitement, and turned his head slightly to meet Hannibal’s gaze and say, “Thank you.”

It was a lot like staring into a dark abyss of a creature who’d spared your life because you were interesting for a moment.

“Yes, it was very clean work,” Hannibal was watching Arthur carefully, though his tone was casual. “No unnecessary damage, even when he was trying to make you angry. He should make several fine meals.”

“Bastard deserved it,” Arthur bristled, rage surfacing again even though the man was already dead.

“How is your partner faring? His stitches should have come out by now.” Hannibal leaned his hip against the counter, and crossed his arms over his chest.

Arthur nodded. “Yeah, stitches are out, everything’s healing. Just a few bruises left.” He gnawed at a nail, picturing the particularly nasty gash that had been on the back of Merlin’s head. “Thank you, again, for helping him before the ambulance came.”

Dragging Merlin, beaten and bleeding, to his car and making sure he stayed awake while he’d driven frantically to Hanibal’s residence had nearly given him a panic attack. In hindsight, calling emergency services to the house of a killer on the run was probably a mistake, but Hannibal had never mentioned or chastised Arthur about that point. Or that Merlin had bled all over his floor.

Other than a dismissive shrug, Hannibal said nothing, looking out toward the back of the house again as Will crossed the hallway into their room.

“Does your partner know you kill for him?” Hannibal asked.

“No. No idea.��

Will’s dog barked from the backyard but Hannibal stayed silent, watching the door that Will had passed through, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb along his bottom lip.

Arthur swallowed around the lump in his throat, treading a thin, deadly line as he asked, “Do you kill for him?”

A wide, frightening grin spread across Hannibal’s face and he sighed wistfully.

“Oh, yes. Often.”

Arthur followed Hannibal’s gaze, which had not moved from the open doorway where they could hear Will opening and closing drawers. He and Hannibal had been on opposite sides once...but now they were inseparable, because of both murder and love.

Arthur had Hannibal’s darkness, but did Merlin have Will’s?

“I’d like to invite you for dinner, Arthur.” Hannibal stated. Arthur eyed him, tensing up in case he needed to run. Perhaps Arthur had just crossed a line, and Hannibal’s casual persona was merely a trap.

“As a guest,” he clarified, chuckling at Arthur as he turned to face him with an amused look. Arthur felt that he could breathe easier, but his heart continued to pound in his chest. Arthur had not betrayed the trust of the Chesapeake Ripper, but he knew it was smarter to be wary of the top predator in the room.

“Both you and your partner. You must bring him with you.” Hannibal continued the conversation, stepping away to open the fridge. He thoughtfully spent a moment looking inside before beginning to pull out ingredients, one a liver Arthur was recently acquainted with. “From what you and Will have told me of him, I think he could be amenable to what you do for him.”

Arthur’s heart picked up, not in fear, but at the thought of finally showing Merlin the extent of his care for him. Of being with Merlin as Hannibal was with Will. Of revealing his last, and most dangerous secret.

Arthur could try to hide his excitement, and play the rest of this game - because everything with Hannibal seemed like a life-sized chess match - close to his chest, but Hannibal would have already seen the hope in Arthur’s posture and the silence he had let go on just a little too long.

“I’m not sure how to bring up that you and I are...friendly now.” Arthur had never put a label on his partnership with Hannibal, always switching roles. He could be a student one moment, only to be an observer or the teacher the next. He could easily become ‘victim’ as well.

Hannibal pulled the knife Arthur had finished cleaning from its stand and cleanly sliced the liver Arthur had cut from a man’s body in half. He seemed unfazed with Arthur’s statement, masterfully beginning to prepare his meal.

“I’m sure,” he said finally, pausing mid-cut to look up across the room at Will, who had emerged from their bedroom, phone held up to his ear, as he met Hannibal’s gaze with an endearing smile. “it won’t be a problem.”

Arthur watched Will with a quizzical look, but the man never took his eyes off of Hannibal, even as he said, “Merlin? Hi. It’s your cousin, Will.”

Will bit his bottom lip as Merlin spoke on the other end. Hannibal still hadn’t resumed his cooking.

“Yes,” Will said softly. “We were wondering if you and Arthur would like to come to dinner next week..”

~~~~

I know things seem a bit tame for having dark!characters, but the next part definitely has darker actions from pretty much everyone, so there’s that to look forward to. I hope you enjoyed the first part of Corruption, and the rest of the requested prompts that will be coming soon! Please keep requesting prompts, and if you enjoyed this, comment and share!

#merlinxarthur #merthur fic #merthur #hannigram #hannibalxwill #dark!arthur #dark!hannibal #dark!will #dark!merlin #murder husbands #corruption pt 1 #corruption #prompt fill #request fill

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10moonymhrivertam · 5 years

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Okay, um, this is a little darker than expected. I have a hurt/comfort chapter planned?

This is a sequel to @mediocrity-at-best ‘s post @roseof-alltrades3

Includes cursing. Message for other warnings (not including them here for suspense reasons)

<hr>

“Virgil, it’s 4 AM.” Patton’s voice was thick with sleep. Virgil peeked over the top of his laptop to see him rubbing his eyes.

“Sorry.”

“No, don’t gotta apologize...” Patton shuffled across the living room of the suite to the sink, grabbing a glass at random and filling it. “You okay, kiddo? Usually you’re in bed by two.”

Virgil smiled sheepishly as Patton chugged his water.. “I found a mythology blog for the school. Places people are convinced there are fairies or ghosts or demons.”

“Oh yeah?” Patton wandered over to the couch, laying down with his head just barely in Virgil’s personal space. Virgil allowed it, and Pat threw his arm over his eyes to shield them from the light of the computer, but turned his head so his ear was pointed up at Virgil.

“Yeah. Demon in the basement of the engineering building - that one’s probably fake; couple people absolutely convinced this guy in environmental science is a changeling - this list is hilarious, I guess they caught him eating acorns once; ghost in the theater: you know that one, she overdosed in the costume deck; stuff that might be the ghost of this guy that went missing with enough blood in his place to send him to the emergency room, but they never found him alive or dead; poltergeist down on Auburn Street in that one abandoned house. That one’s got some good stories.”

“Stories ‘bout Lisa are good,” Patton protest sleepily. Roman had already passed them a few stories of unexplained equipment movement in the theater. Virgil tried not to roll his eyes too badly.

“Yeah, but theater geeks are superstitious most of the time. There are some skeptics on here that have had encounters with the poltergeist.”

“What kind?”

“So there’s this one alum on here from, like, fifteen years ago,” Virgil began. “First story anyone can find. So twenty years ago someone did actually live in the house, and this sophomore always passed by the house between their apartment and the school, right? And one day in Spring semester, they realized the mail had been piling up, big time. So on their way back from school, they went and knocked - didn’t get an answer. But they didn’t know the guy well enough to be worried or anything, so they left. But they made a habit of knocking. And one day they told some friends about it, and they were like ‘well, if it’s empty, it’d be a great place for a party’, and he was like ‘but he looks like a get off my lawn type’ - on his post he said, “if Monster House had been out at the time I might even have thought of Nebbercracker, especially with what happened next”.”

“Well, what happened next?”

“His friends ignored him.”

“Of course.”

“So, they went to throw a party - made their way to the back door and broke in through there. All sorts of weird shit immediate started going down - basement door rattled, but none of them could get it open. Lights got wonky, TV turned itself on. Basically everything short of the house coming alive. They booked it out of there. But there are more stories, especially when it got clear the place was empty. People going there to smoke and getting mugs thrown across the room at them, people going to explore and not much happening to them unless they tried to find a way into the basement. People trying to throw parties - and the poltergeist really hates that one, it looks like. Hates it more the more people try it.”

Patton hummed a sleepy acknowledgement, and Virgil laughed and nudged him.

“Hey, if you fall asleep on me, I’ll just wake you up in half an hour when I get through these poltergeist stories. You go and sleep.”

“Mm...’kay. Please don’t stay up too late?”

“I won’t,” Virgil promised.

<hr>

Virgil burst from his room, leading with his camcorder. It was cheap, but better quality than a phone camera, and he had a tripod for it. Roman and Patton looked up from the breakfast table. They were still in their pajamas. Roman squawked and started to get up.

“And they’re going to help!”

“Help with what?” Roman half-snarled.

“My first investigative video for Parano-Virgil-ant.” Virgil kept the camera rolling, but mentally planned to cut it there, looking over the top of it instead of through the viewfinder.

“You’re going to investigate a cryptid instead of just compiling lore?” Roman crossed his arms.

“Mothman isn’t on the other side of campus.”

“Oh, are you still thinking about the poltergeist, Virge?”

“Yeah, Pat. I figure we stay quiet, we don’t touch too much...maybe we can communicate or something.”

“I thought poltergeists didn’t do communication.”

“Literally it differs between every ghost hunting show and horror movie. We’re gonna try it. And anyway, I’m just filming an intro. I won’t be able to do it ‘till Saturday night. You guys free then?”

“Yes.” Roman rolled his eyes and sighed heavily, stomping off to get dressed. Patton peered anxiously at him.

“What if it throws a mug at us or something?”

“Then we’ll leave, Pat, promise. I just wanna explore, really, see if it’s the kind of poltergeist that was a ghost or is just around to cause chaos.”

“...Alright. I’ll do it for you.” Patton smiled. Virgil smiled in return before disappearing back into his room.

<hr>

Virgil was leading with his camera again as they slipped carefully through an open section of chain-link fence. Once he’d wriggled through, he started the camera again, turning to watch Patton and Roman.

“Not yet.” The darkness of the night hid Roman’s blushing as he finished making his way through the fence.

“Relax, princey, I’m sure most of it’ll come out during editing.” Virgil swung the camera toward Patton. “How you feeling, Pops?”

“Bad,” Patton said, frowning over at the house.

“...You want to wait out here.”

“No. That’s worse. That’s how you die alone in horror movies. I’m coming.”

Virgil turned and led the way up to the back door. He reached inside for the hook he’d read about - the latch-proper had been busted during that first break-in fifteen years ago, and had been replaced with just a hook-and-eye type latch that could be reached through the broken window next to the door. After a moment of fumbling, Virgil had it, and the door creaked inward. Goosebumps erupted across Virgil’s arms, but he was grinning toothily. He stepped carefully inside the kitchen. He heard Patton and Roman follow, and he panned around the kitchen, wondering if he should narrate now, or voice over later. It’d probably make Patton and Roman more comfortable if he talked.

“The back door of 133 Auburn Street leads into a kitchen,” Virgil said lowly. “According to the forums, there’s some activity in here, but it’s fairly limited. Thrown mugs...flickering lights...” Virgil’s panning found a couple doors. One opened easily when he tested it. The pantry. The other...the other was stuck fast. “And the mysterious basement door.” Virgil backed up from it and looked to Patton and Roman again.

“We’ll attempt communication after we’ve done some wandering. You two wanna go ahead?”

“Lead the way, Ryan Bergara.”

“Like you’re such a Shane, ‘Lisa made the lights spin once’.” Virgil rolled his eyes. “Pat?”

“I’d feel better if you’re in front.”

“Alright.” Virgil turned around again and stepped into the living room. The place seemed cold, and his goosebumps got worse, but he reminded himself firmly that he was probably just scaring himself and it was February in an abandoned house. As much as he did hope the forums weren’t all just liars and dupes, there were a lot of explanations for stuff besides ‘a ghost’.

“This is the living room,” he said for the camera’s benefit. “Recorded activity here includes the TV turning itself on, but only in reaction to parties. And a lot of the thrown mugs from the kitchen get thrown at people doing stupid stuff out here.” Virgil panned the room. The TV was old and clunky and might’ve been expensive at the time, but it might not have been. Virgil wasn’t good with that stuff. The TV stand and VHSs had taken some damage over the years. He panned past the front door and the foot of a staircase. “Watch your step, based on the forums there might be abandoned syringes.” Virgil grimaced. He desperately hoped that sound was not Patton whimpering. Virgil carefully stepped across the room and over to the staircase, eyeing it carefully and hoping none of these stairs were unsafe after twenty years without an occupant. He began to climb the stairs and heard Roman and Patton following behind him. The cold, watched feeling didn’t go away. At the top of the stairs, Virgil hesitated.

“Well, most of the people in the forums don’t get this far, except the explorers - the ones who aren’t trying to party or anything. Very little recorded activity up on this second floor, but we’re just going to tour and see what there is real quick.” Virgil moved into rooms, panned around them, and then backed out to go into other rooms, Roman and Patton lingering at doorways. Roman was rubbing Patton’s shoulder, and Virgil felt a little bad, but he’d given Patton two chances to back out. Once he had the upstairs recorded, Virgil descended again. He stood in the living room with Roman and Patton, and he looked to them.

“Thoughts?”

“...This would be an awful place to be all alone,” Patton whispered.

“We’re not going to leave you by yourself,” Roman promised.

“Not me. The poltergeist. He’s well-known enough that people don’t really...come here unless they’re ghost-hunting, right? That...that sounds so sad.” Tears welled in Patton’s eyes. Virgil was already prepared to avert the camera lens when there was a creak, too loud amidst their whispering. All three of them turned at once to the stairs, and Virgil fumbled for the light on the camera. Nothing. Not even an animal. A thrilling fear zinged up Virgil’s spine, and he turned the camera light off again, licking his lips. None of them dared to move for a moment.

“Alright,” Virgil whispered eventually. He took a step toward the kitchen. When nothing happened, he took a few more steps, and eventually stood in the middle of the kitchen. “...Okay, so, um - I know you don’t like when people do this...but I’m just -” Virgil set his camera down on the kitchen island. “Curiosity killed the cat, y’know.”

“Virgil? Virgil!” Roman hissed as he crossed to the basement door. He wrapped his hand around the knob. The lights came on and flickered. Virgil froze. There was another small, scared noise from Patton. The lights went out again.

“Virgil, let go!” Roman hissed. Virgil stubbornly tested the knob. Locked. Well. Not a problem. Virgil slipped his lock picking kit from his pocket and knelt.

“Gimme a light.”

“No!” Roman hissed.

“I’m not ready to give up yet,” Virgil insisted. He didn’t want to upset a poltergeist, but they’d only really been given the barest warning, anyway. Silence filled the kitchen, and then Roman cursed in a whisper-yell.

“If we die, I’m blaming you,” he snarled. Nonetheless, he stalked over with his phone and held the flashlight up. Patton was just behind him, holding onto his shoulders with a tight grip. Virgil couldn’t give that much attention, though, fiddling with the lock picks. He was almost surprised not to get a second warning. Then again, maybe the lights had just been something weird with the power. The place had been abandoned for twenty years, after all. Virgil felt carefully with his picks, waiting for that moment of give when he could unlock it. He smirked when he got what he wanted. He pulled back, which sent Roman and Patton scrambling out of his space. Then he turned it. He’d done it right. Something broke behind them. They all jumped and whipped around. Everything was still and silent. Nothing happened to the lights.

“Sounded like a glass,” Roman muttered. Virgil waved a shushing hand.

“Was that...was that our second warning?” He asked, shivering at his voice at full volume. Nothing. Not lights, not shattered glasses or turned taps. Virgil shivered. He didn’t know whether that meant ‘yes’ or ‘no’. Something more fear than thrill curled at the pit of his stomach, but he wasn’t going to be cowed now. Virgil moved to look at the hinge-side, glaring. It should open inward. Virgil put his weight behind his next attempt at the door, but it didn’t do anything. Roman let out a huffy sigh mostly through his nose. Virgil looked to him with a glare, and Roman rolled his eyes.

“You’re tiny, let me do it.”

Virgil glared at him for the comment, but stepped away to let Roman take a turn. Roman frowned after a few times.

“That feels weird. It doesn’t feel jammed, exactly.” Roman leaned in close. “I think it was at first - the paint and the wood and all - but...it’s not flush now, look. But it won’t give any more than that.”

“Really?” Virgil scooped up his camera to zoom in on what Roman was talking about. He was pretty sure it wouldn’t come across on film, but he had to try. Virgil pulled out his phone to shine its light through the crack. It was kind of chilling to see spots where the light was stopped sooner than expected.

“Is that - boarded up from the inside?” Virgil asked. The lights suddenly surged on again, staying steady for a moment before beginning to flicker, worse than before. This time they did not stop at Patton’s choked-back gasp.

“Did you do that?” Virgil accused. “Huh?”

“Don’t make him mad!” Patton pleaded with a thin voice, hanging onto Virgil’s arm.

“Well, who the hell else is going to board up the inside of a basement without getting stuck there themselves?” Virgil hissed. The lights didn’t stop, but the poltergeist didn’t up the game with smashed or thrown things, either. A stalemate.

“...Were there basement windows out there?” Roman asked.

“What?” Virgil snapped back.

“Windows. Or another door, or something, I don’t know.”

The way the lights flickered changed. Virgil couldn’t slap an adjective on it, not with fear grating on his nerves.

“I’m going to check.”

“Horror movies!” Patton cried, letting go of Virgil to go after Roman. And...well, Patton kind of had a point. Especially with the probability that he’d made the poltergeist mad. And the back door didn’t latch, so the poltergeist couldn’t shut them out. Virgil followed them, pointing the camera in Roman’s direction. Roman looked around the outside of the house and found basement windows, which almost all had rocks or boards jammed into place in such a way that they wouldn’t have opened from the inside. Virgil began to get an entirely different bad feeling. Feeling distant and a bit light-headed, he shoved passed Roman and moved one of the rocks himself. He pulled his jacket off and wrapped it around his hand and then slammed a fist into the window, sending glass shattering inward. Virgil kept punching until the frame was clear.

“Virgil, what are you doing?” Roman asked as he unwrapped his jacket from his hand and shook it out.

“I’m tiny,” he said softly, passing his jacket to Roman. “And I have a bad feeling.”

It wasn’t precisely easy going, but Virgil managed to squeeze himself through, hanging onto the sill until his feet hit a flat surface. He carefully let go and looked around.

“Here’s your camera,” Patton said. Virgil took it automatically and turned around to get his bearings, his skin crawling. If he was just being paranoid, he didn’t want to lose this footage. If he was right...well, he just hoped he wasn’t right. Virgil’s discomfort drove him to his phone and its flashlight rather than adjusted eyes and a night vision camera. Slowly, he panned both the flashlight and the camera. His stomach jerked with a threatening nausea when he saw a brown, streaked stain by the stairs. He followed it with his panning to a corner. He stilled at the sight that waited for him. When his flashlight landed on the corner, every bulb in the room turned on, and they all got brighter and brighter until they blew out, which only took about a moment. But it had not affected his phone. There was a flash, and darkness again. It did not take the skeleton from the beam of his flashlight.

“Oh, shit,” he whispered.

#writing #fanfic #recursive fic #oh jeez what have i done #sanders sides #tss #virgil sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #bg logan sanders #ghosts #if you are inspired and would like to finish this i would be super cool with that #i haven't round robin'ed anything in a while #but i do have a hurt/comfort follow-up planned #i can't say fluff cuz i have logan panicking and it will probably be a gut-punch to them to Realize #but after that there will be comfort #what? what do you mean there's a laoft reference i have no idea what you mean

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reesewestonarchive · 5 years

Text

FROM THE ROOF OF MY MOUTH | WIP Page | WIP Tag | Tag List

my work on from has continued in the form of editing draft two to become draft three! wish me luck. here’s the first bit of chapter one, again, for the third time :D warning: little bit nsfw in the opening, drug use

Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

Even with the smell of stale smoke hanging in the air, the back of his neck wet with sweat, an uncomfortable crick pinging in his back, if Ryan could make this second right now last forever, he would.

The fireworks behind his eyelids disappear and he waits for Nakoa’s laugh, for the shift of the couch, the unspoken permission to open his eyes.

Getting each other off isn’t new, but it feels like a new fucking experience every time. Nakoa nudges him in the side, offers the joint. Ryan tries not to look directly at him. “Next time,” Nakoa says, and there’s a glint to his eye that settles somewhere between mischievous and teasing, “maybe you can come on my face.”

“Asshole,” Ryan says, and takes the joint. Nakoa tosses his head back, black and red hair sticking to his forehead. Nakoa’s fucking beautiful, and Ryan, in the quiet comfort of his own mind, can admit it to himself. The straight, sharp line of his nose, the curve of his jaw, the day-old stubble. He’s always been darker than Ryan, but the sun has tanned him more, too, and Ryan, distantly, wonders what he tastes like. What it’d be like to lick a stripe up Nakoa’s neck, and—

He’s teasing. It’s never more than hands. Never more than a taste of what Ryan’s been fantasizing about his entire life. He takes a hit and tries to shake the image out of his head.

The world, fuzzy on the edges, relaxed, pleasing, can’t get better than it is right here, right now. Ryan’s lucky; times like this, when Nakoa gets his hands on him, come easy. It’s almost like a worship, when Nakoa takes him in hand and coaxes an orgasm out of him, half-bored with a lazy smile on his lips. He makes it look so easy, but not closing the distance between them has been the hardest fucking thing Ryan’s ever done in his life.

It’s sex, plain and simple, but Ryan will take whatever Nakoa offers.

Smoke rings rise drift to the ceiling from Nakoa’s mouth, and Ryan watches one, absently, before he trails his gaze down, towards where Nakoa’s hand rests against his own stomach, to where his jeans still lay open.

What would he do, Ryan wonders, if, just once, he leaned over, blew him instead?

“Think Dice noticed?” Nakoa asks, nodding towards Dice’s bedroom door.

“You’re fucking explaining it if he did.” Ryan zips his jeans back up, just because ducking his head is easier than returning Nakoa’s impish grin.

Like they’re sixteen again, and their entire lives are ahead of them. Like those days they spent on the road between high school and college, before adulthood gripped them tight and threw them both into uncertainty. Before boyfriends fucked it all up. Ryan likes the stable footing they’re on now, but there was something back then that drove them forward. It was simpler, then, maybe.

The stereo across the room stutters and stops, and breaks the spell that, for a brief second, Ryan thinks is going to propel him forward towards Nakoa.

It’s not just the stereo, Ryan realizes with a start. The power’s cut.

“Did you pay the electric?” Ryan mutters, handing the joint back.

“Please,” Nakoa says, “of course I did.” He stands, zips his jeans—Ryan tries not to feel disappointed—and peers out the window. “Looks like most of downtown is in a blackout.”

Dice opens his bedroom, glances between the two of them. He narrows his eyes at Nakoa. “Open a window. The landlady’s due for an inspection this week, she’ll kick us out if you two make the place smell like pot.” He sighs. “I was in the middle of my final.”

Ryan winces. “Shit. They’ll probably give you an extension, dude, it’s most the city.” He turns the flashlight on his phone up, sets it face-down on the coffee table. He can see Dice, towering over Nakoa at the window while he peers through the curtains.

Dice can’t know, right? There’s no way. He and Nakoa are careful. As careful as a guy like Nakoa can be, anyway. Ryan smoothes his hands down his thighs, clears his throat.

“Hey,” Nakoa says, patting Dice’s chest, and Ryan can just make out his grin in the light, “come party with us?”

“You’re getting high in the living room, and—you don’t even have music because—” Dice sighs, loud, and says, “You did this, didn’t you?”

But Nakoa waves away his concern. He rejoins Ryan on the couch. Ryan reaches out, almost, for him; catches his arm midair and drops it again. If Nakoa notices, he doesn’t say anything, focused on Dice as he makes his way towards the kitchen.

“Just once in a while I’d like a fucking thank you—”

“Nakoa, I—” Dice groans as he returns to the living room, arms full of emergency candles. He dumps them in Ryan’s lap before disappearing into his room again. When he returns, he says, “I’m going to the library uptown. Next time you try to do something nice for me, will you ask first?”

“I just thought—”

“No, you didn’t,” Dice snaps, and, oh. Ryan blinks at him in the darkness, still isn’t sure if what he’s hearing is actually what’s happening. “That’s the entire problem with you, you don’t think.” And he stalks across the room towards the front door, footsteps loud on the hardwood. Ryan braces for him to slam the door, because he’s never seen Dice this pissed, before, but what he does, instead, is say, “Open a window.”

After the door shuts, quiet, calm, gentle, Ryan sighs, and says, “You didn’t really do this, did you?”

Nakoa takes another hit instead of answering, blows smoke towards the ceiling. Then, without warning, Nakoa makes a face, pulls the joint from his lips and swings a leg over Ryan’s lap.

This is new.

He doesn’t know where to put his hands, so he leaves them at his side. Nakoa’s light, for a guy as tall as he is, and his weight rests over Ryan’s thighs pleasantly, a heaviness Ryan could get used to. Nakoa puts the joint between his lips and inhales, leans down. Doesn’t quite slot his mouth over Ryan’s. Every bit of Ryan’s being is aching to close the distance, but their unspoken agreement doesn’t cover kissing, but Nakoa’s eyes are half-lidded and it’d be easy to lean up and kiss him. They’re close, too fucking close, and Ryan’s high enough that he’s forgetting why they haven’t done this, officially. Jerking off is one thing, a means to an end, and yeah, Ryan gets it, but what’s holding this back? What’s keeping the two of them from falling into bed—or anything else?

Ryan can feel Nakoa’s breath on his face, and he wraps a hand around the back of Ryan’s neck, and holds him close, doesn’t say a word, and Nakoa exhales smoke into Ryan’s parted lips.

Ryan, nervous as hell, inhales it all.

He’ll always take what Nakoa gives him.

After a few seconds, Nakoa finally pulls back, and leans back against the couch again, kicking his feet into Ryan’s lap. He hands off the joint, small, now, and sighs, content.

Finally, Nakoa answers. “The guy is always at his fucking computer, Ryan—”

“He’s taking seven courses this semester! What else is he going to do?”

“When was the last time he hung out with us—do you remember?”

He does. Fake-New Years, when Dice came back from India and Nakoa dragged both of them around Reinhart, from bar to bar, getting steadily drunker, and… “Do you?”

“Ryan,” he says, and he’s close, so close, his breath—smells like whiskey and weed—ghosts along Ryan’s skin. Ryan wishes the lights would come back on, if only because he so, so badly wants to see Nakoa’s eyes, a smooth, dark brown and… what was he saying? “—something’s gonna make that guy go nuts, and pretty soon he won’t have a future to look forward to.”

He seems so eager, Nakoa does, but Ryan opens his mouth to speak, and forgets what his argument was. “Is the library even open this late?” he asks, and reaches for his phone, the flashlight creating a bit of a strobe effect as he moves it around the room. He searches for the uptown library, and snorts. “Nakoa. No fucking way he’s going to the library.”

“Bastard,” Nakoa says, and leans back on the couch. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’d planned this.”

“You planned this.” His phone buzzes on the coffee table.

“I just,” Nakoa says, and the tone of the room shifts, just like that, from the slow, sleepy after-sex brain-fog to… concern, to ratcheted up anxiety that almost has Ryan sobering up. “Dunno. Miss hanging out with you guys, is all, and I thought, Dice doesn’t leave shit for last minute, right? So, Friday night, finals week… he’ll be home free, fucking finally.”

But Dice doesn’t get high, and he’s usually with his Dungeons and Dragons group on Fridays. Nakoa won’t meet Ryan’s eyes, then, just says, “Yeah, forget it.” And taps his fingers against the back of the couch. “Power’s out for the hour, at least. Gonna go see if I can check out some stars.”

And Nakoa disappears to his room, probably for the exit to the fire escape. For a long, lingering moment, Ryan thinks about going with him, but would Nakoa say anything, would he admit to anything? Probably nothing more than Ryan’s used to. Hunger, tiredness, frustration. The only time Nakoa’s forthcoming is when he wants to come, and even that seems fewer and far between.

He thinks about going with him. One-track mind, but if he goes up there, what will happen? Nothing that Ryan’s hoping for. At best, the two of them will sit there in silence until the power comes back on and the city lights back up.

If Ryan were a smarter guy, he’d call it. He’d stop hyperfocusing on everything that Nakoa does, hoping there’s something to read into when there’s not.

Ryan watches as he disappears back into his bedroom, then looks down at the phone in his hand as it buzzes again.

Have a project. Can I recruit you?

Another one, as Ryan’s reading the first:

Come on, idiot. I know you’re up.

Ryan glances at the contact information—Chloe Thompson—and frowns. Scratches an eyebrow, tries to remember the last time Chloe did anything more than argue with him in class. Besides, Chloe majored in women’s and queer studies, minored in… fuck, Ryan can’t remember. They didn’t cross paths much, when she was still in school. Ryan’s on year six of a four year degree, a perpetual fucking student, and majored in fucking business administration. It’s not just that their paths don’t cross, but their lives don’t, either.

He types back, Think you have the wrong number.

Cut the shit. I’m in charge of the pride festival this year, and you’re gonna help me.

Before he can send another message, trying to tell her that he doesn’t have anything to offer, another message comes through.

I know your parents are loaded, and I know you grew up all rich and shit so you know how to network. I got another guy on that, too, but I need you.

I need you. Ryan thinks about Nakoa, upstairs, about how he’s lucky that Nakoa calls him a friend at all, and decides he’s not going to sit around waiting for Nakoa to make a decision that he doesn’t even know he needs to make.

There’s no reason not to. If he doesn’t, Ryan will spend the summer following Nakoa around like a lost puppy, he’ll never meet someone, and…

He types, I’ll think about it, then deletes it. Types it again, and presses send.

Chloe’s next text message is a meeting schedule.

He joins Nakoa on the rooftop, then, can make out where he’s sitting by the glow of his cigarette. The emergency lights on the stairwell only light up the ends of Nakoa’s boots, but it’s enough. Ryan can’t take his eyes off the messages, can’t get his mind off of Chloe, of how they ended their friendship, of how quickly Ryan dropped her in the face of maybe, possibly, getting laid when Nakoa came to town.

And look how that worked out.

“More dick pics? ‘Least you could do is send them my way.”

Ryan shouldn’t tell him. When they were seniors in high school and Nakoa first heard of Ryan’s almost-desire to experience Pride first hand, he’d… well, furious isn’t the right word. Something like it, maybe, or disappointment. Ryan dropped it pretty quickly, and over the years ended up disliking the Pride Festival because it disrupts the entire fucking city, like any other major event.

Getting high’s easier, watching bad eighties movies, getting off with his best friend. Ryan thinks if there’s any way to celebrate Pride, that’s definitely the way to do it.

He turns the flashlight on on his phone again, so he can make out Nakoa’s face a little. Better this way, he thinks. Easier to tell what Nakoa’s thinking. “Chloe,” Ryan says. “She wants me to help with the festival this year.”

Nakoa’s reaction comes immediately, loud and harsh. “Man, fuck that! I won’t see you for two months!”

The festival falls in August, before term starts, and Chloe never gets enough people to help her plan everything. It’s just her and her girlfriend, most of the time, and Ryan knows she needs help, but he’s not anywhere near qualified for this. He’s from money, yeah, but what else can he offer?

“I’ll get out of it,” Ryan says. “Calm down.”

Nakoa doesn’t look too convinced, but pinches his lips and draws his eyes back down to his phone. Ryan sighs, stares, trails his eyes along the maze of the sparrow’s wing on Nakoa’s chest and arm, the discordant dots Nakoa won’t tell him what they mean, but always draw Ryan’s eye. Down his arms, past the circuitry and the vines, past planets and barcodes and the pair of dice, past line-art mountains and anything else Nakoa found room for towards the simple line down the inside of his wrist.

The one that matches Ryan’s. He rubs his own tattoo absently, hyper-focused on the way the line of the heartbeat seems to thump to the beat of Nakoa’s pulse.

He closes his eyes, opens them again, and presses his thumb into his tattoo. It’s his own heartbeat that he feels. Maybe Nakoa’s is beating the same.

“What do you hate about the festival so much?” Ryan asks. They aren’t the words he wanted to come out, but it’s an answer he’s curious about anyway.

Nakoa lifts his gaze to Ryan’s, but he gets caught on Ryan’s wrist. Maybe unconsciously, too, but he reaches to his own wrist to scratch at his. Ryan thinks he can feel Nakoa’s heartbeat in his own veins. “You mean aside from the fact that it means I’d never get to see you?”

“You could work with me.”

He barks out a laugh. “Yeah, fucking right. Chloe hates me, you think she’d let me work on her favorite project?”

She doesn’t hate him, Ryan wants to say, but his mouth won’t cooperate. Instead, he says, “Okay, fine. Aside from that.”

Nakoa exhales, slow, and his hair dances against his forehead. “I don’t know.”

The answer sounds so typical, it's hard to keep the laugh in. But Ryan manages it, barely; Nakoa looks at him, expression unreadable, and Ryan drops his gaze.

Nakoa stays on his phone until he passes out. He curls up against Ryan’s chest, and Ryan stares, unashamed and fond and, somewhere deep beyond the fog of pot in his mind, terrified of Nakoa waking and finding him like this.

Times like this, with Nakoa quiet and soft, without energy dripping from him, Ryan allows himself some freedom. He doesn't touch him again, and he doesn't stare too long, because it’s creepy, but Nakoa’s calm, gentle presence is enough. Ryan can pretend that things between them aren't so bizarre.

#from the roof of my mouth #my writing #writeblr

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bards-witcher · 5 years

Note

For your promt thing (if you're still doing it): how about an alternate ohmcat gang!AU? :3

Hey, I’m sorry this took so long things have just been a little busy

I hope you like this XD

[Wildcat POV]

He breathed a sigh of relief as he saw his friends start to pile out of the burning building, their mission to destroy an opposing gangs base, whilst having been successful, had not gone to plan and for the last few minutes he’d been tearing his hair out waiting for Ryan and the rest of his group to emerge.

He noticed a couple of his friends were unconscious, all of them stumbling out as they hacked out coughs in an attempt to get some fresh air and he, Brian, and Nogla were quick to race forward to lend a hand to support those still struggling.

It was only when they’d made it out of the black smoke that he noticed a face was missing “Where’s Ryan?” he noticed his friends look grimly at one another and he felt his stomach sink “Where the fuck is Ryan and I swear to God one of you will tell me now” He stared down each of them, none of them able to hold his gaze for long before Luke spoke up.

“I’m so sorry Tyler, but he’s not coming out” He felt Luke put a reassuring hand on his arm, which he was quick to shake off, instead twisting around to grab Lukes’ shirt and pin him up against the side of the truck.

“What the fuck happened in there”

“We were surrounded, dead for sure, but Ryan offered himself as a distraction, he wouldn’t listen to us” He could hear Luke choke up on his words and that sinking feeling only got stronger “We managed to get out and start the fire to distract them so he could get out, he saw us signal him, but he led them further away. We heard shots but the fire was too big, and we couldn’t go in after him, I’m sorry”

Before Luke could even finish his sentence he was pushing away from the older man and racing back into the warehouse, ignoring the shouts of protests behind him before he braced himself, quickly wrapping his elbow around his nose and mouth as some form of protection. He could feel the heat of the flames lick at him, he was running on pure adrenaline at that moment to have any form of semblance of navigating his way through the fire.

He doesn’t know how long he’d been in the building, only knew that his coughs were getting more regular and that he was starting to feel somewhat lightheaded, but still, he persisted even when his vision started to get darker.

He thinks the lack of oxygen is finally getting to him when he hears coughing not too far away and as quick as he can he makes his way towards the noise, hoping beyond hope that it’s somehow Ohm. When he catches sight of the person his heart sinks, the guys are using one of the black jackets which had been worn by the other gang, as a form of shield against the smoke, and although both suffering a lack of air he realizes he’s at a disadvantage.

He tries to move away but the guy has seen him and started making his way over to him, he tries to be defensive, not planning on going down without a fight despite knowing he’ll die regardless. However, the man is quick to remove the jacket and the fight in him completely drains as he sees that it’s Ryan. Black marking his pale skin and eyes bloodshot, but it’s him, and he’s quick to latch onto him before he starts pulling them back the way he’d come.

They are helpless but to lean on each other for support as they try to make a path through the roaring flames in front of them, thankful that when he missteps Ryan is there to catch him, because he knew if he’d been on his own he wouldn’t have gotten up.

They’re at the final stretch now, he can see smoke billowing out of the deteriorating doorway, but he can’t bring himself to move any faster, with the jacket around his mouth Ryan is in better condition than him, and he knows that the other man can make it out, if he leaves him.

He can hear the creaking and groaning of the ceiling and walls around them, knows that they have only seconds left and yet it’s like he’s traveling through quicksand.

“Ryan, you need to go. I can’t make it”

“We’re almost there, c’mon Tyler you can do it” His heart breaks at how much Ryan pleads with him but yet it’s not enough to will his limbs forward.

“Ceilings gonna collapse. Go, please. I love you Ry”

“Tyler you don’t get to do this, it’s only a few feet away. TYLER!” He wants to say more, to scream at the other man to leave but all he can manage is a faint smile as his vision finally starts to go dark, the last thing he hears being shouts of his name.

**********

The first thing he realizes when he wakes up is the sound of a constant beeping beside him, the sound quick to infuriate him but he found that he could barely move without being in some form of pain, to turn it off.

Slowly he opened his eyes, trying his best to cope with how bright the room was as the light made him realize he had the migraine to end all migraines. He tried to move his hand a little in an attempt to shield his eyes, only to feel another warm hand in his own.

He made the slow journey of following the length of the arm towards the face of the person beside him and he stopped when he saw that it was Ryan, watery smile on his face.

“Ry?” He cringes at how hoarse his voice sounds, but before he can say anything else Ryan is quick to stop him.

“Don’t talk okay? You’re severely dehydrated and it’s gonna be a little bit before you can drink anything properly” He nodded to show that he understood, looking down on his other arm to see the IV sticking in his arm that was no doubt supplying him with fluids. “What I wouldn’t give to hear your smart-ass retort right about now”

He looked to see tears brimming Ryan’s eyes as he looked down at their entwined hands and he gave the hand a squeeze in a show of comfort.

“You’re a fucking idiot for coming in after me you know, you could’ve died, I almost-“ He gave a slight tug to Ryan’s’ arm, causing the older man to look at him at which he gave him a pointed look, only causing a defeated sigh from the other man. “Yeah I know, I would’ve done the exact same thing. Guess that makes us both idiots huh”

He offered a smile to the other man who surreptitiously tried to wipe away the couple of tears that had fallen down his face. He gave the hand in his a slight tug and kept tugging it closer to himself before the smaller man understood and soon Ryan was lying curled up next to him as carefully as he could.

“I love you so much Tyler, I almost lost you yesterday and I don’t know what-“

Despite the pain in his throat, he quieted down Ryan’s’ statement, much happier instead to enjoy the presence of the man he loved in his arms than to dwell on what ifs.

“Ah so he finally wakes” He looked over Ryan’s’ head to see Craig enter the room, smile on his face “I’m sure you’ve been told this but you were a fucking idiot for going into the building Ty” All he could do was roll his eyes which earned a chuckle from the smaller man before he went about checking his vitals. “Did Ry tell you he carried you out of the building? Some of the guys were just about to go in and see if they could find you when he comes stumbling out carrying your fat ass”

He looks down to see a faint blush coloring Ryan’s’ face, how he buries his face into his chest and at that moment he hates the fact that his heart rate is being broadcast as it very obviously picks up its pace.

“Soon as he sees us he’s screeching at us to help you” The humour on Craigs’ face quickly faded before it turned more sombre “We almost lost you, both of you and despite how stupid it was it’s a good thing that you too have each other, I can’t imagine if-“ Craig cut himself off before taking a moment to clear his throat and blinking his eyes to keep tears at bay “Thank you for looking after each other”

Both he and Ryan offered a comforting hand to Craig, thanking him for his efforts in keeping them alive before he bade them farewell, telling them that he’d be keeping them both under watch for the next couple of days just to make sure they were okay.

“So, you carried my ass out” Again Ryan’s face went red and he did his best to avoid eye contact with him until he brought a hand to cup his chin, forcing the older man to look up at him.

“I couldn’t leave you, I just couldn’t. I would take the risk of not making it every time then to leave you in there and I have the right mind to hit you for even suggesting it”

A small smile graces his face as he slowly pulls the other man’s head forward to place a small peck on his lips “I ever tell you I love you?”

Once again he heard his heartbeat increase as he saw the smile on the other mans face before he leaned down for another quick peck on the lips “You may have mentioned it, now quite talking before you damage your throat” He rolled his eyes as he pulled Ryan’s’ head back down against his chest, pressing a final kiss to the top of his head before wrapping an arm around him, content that he could still have these moments with the man he loved.

#ohmcat #ohmwrecker #wildcat #little bit angsty but not really #hope you enjoy

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atravellerstale-meg · 5 years

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I binged YDYD Season 2 all in one night and just had to write something for it. Especially considering all the spooky water stuff early on, and my own fear of drowning. Spoilers up to Episode 3.

Being dead was an awful lot like drowning.

When Gavin came to, the world was dark. So dark that for a moment he thought he was somewhere else entirely. But then he twisted in the air, and that was a weird feeling in and of itself, and he saw the familiar little house on the island below. Saw his friends, his family, milling about as though the sun was high in the sky. He twisted again to look up and saw something that looked similar to the sun, but nowhere near bright enough. Almost as though it was seen from the bottom of the ocean.

He moved, bringing his legs beneath him, and now he focused on that weird feeling. On the viscosity of the air. Or... viscosity wasn't quite the right word. It supported him, kept him afloat, but it parted when he pushed against it. He tried to move forwards and fell easily, the sensation not quite swimming but also not how he'd imagined flying.

He pushed through the air in search of his fallen friends. He found them, their figures shimmering and warping, and tried to call out for them. But he couldn't.

Everyone he knew had come close to drowning at some point, slipping beneath the waves and managing to rise again just barely in time, and he was no exception. And this feeling was similar to the water rushing into his lungs, choking him, keeping him from crying out. It was a uniquely terrifying experience, to be perpetually drowning. To have no air to breathe in.

His panic rose, crashing over his head, before something pulled him from his thoughts. He felt rather than heard Michael’s voice, calling for him, and looked up. Michael reached out to him, their hands brushing. He wasn’t quite solid, feeling more like seaweed against his fingers, cold and dead and just barely there. But it was Michael.

He tried to relax, though he couldn’t take a breath, and was reminded of feeling Michael’s ghost and how its words seemed to manifest in his mind if he focused rather than travelling through the air to his ears. Keeping that feeling in mind he managed to ‘speak’, looking up to see the others smiling at him. After that it was easier to communicate, even with the living. Though they only sometimes noticed his words, if they were paying attention.

And that became his life. Or... afterlife, he supposed. He floated around, watching the others. They built a graveyard and discussed resurrection and, for a moment, he was hopeful. But only Alfredo seemed to want him back. And he knew the others never listened to Alfredo. His stomach twisted and he made himself pull back, instead just watching as Matt made every effort to help and as Michael faded in and out of existence.

That was one of the scariest parts. He knew this wasn't the actual afterlife, could feel something pulling at him, and he didn't know if it was the Nether he was familiar with or somewhere deeper and darker with pressure that would crush any semblance of Gavin out of him. Michael always seemed out of it when he returned. And sure, he always returned, and so did Matt, but Gavin was too scared to ask what it was like and even more scared to find out for himself. So he just lingered around the island.

Not that the island was all he had to focus on. When his mind drifted he found memories that weren’t quite his alongside his own, though they were difficult to focus on. They seemed to waver in his mind, as though seen through the surface of the water. But from what little he could make out, they seemed to be about another life with faces oh-so familiar.

The feeling of arrows piercing his body and knocking him loose, the air rushing past him so different to the way it cradled his body now, was also familiar. But the face of the archer that loosed the arrow was different. One of his friends instead of a monster. It shook him, and he found himself watching Ryan a bit closer after that. Even though he was sure the other had no memories of this other life. Relatively sure.

The events after his death were different, too. He still lingered in the overworld as long as possible, but instead of Alfredo stood by his grave it was Michael out in the jungle screaming his name. And then anger gave way to sorrow and he’d fallen beneath the waves to be with Gavin again. He’d lived thanks to Jeremy, who fought so hard to save him that he’d almost entombed him instead. Who didn’t fight anywhere near as hard to save himself and dragged Ryan and Trevor down with him.

And with Michael leaving their little home behind, there had been nothing to do but to move on to the burning heat of the Nether, so different from this cold, dark limbo.

He knew in his heart that the other place wasn’t the Nether. He didn’t know what was different this time around. Wondered briefly if whatever they’d done to pull themselves out of Hell in the first place and wipe their memories of this previous life was somehow responsible. Had banished them from Hell in the same way this supposed resurrection would ban them from life forever if they fell again. He wondered if it was worth it, to meddle in these forces.

And then Geoff died and sank almost instantly into that other place. Gavin felt sadness for the first time since his death. Not just sadness at Geoff’s death, but at the distance that still separated them. More distance than there’d been with Geoff alive, in a way. He hoped that Geoff would return soon.

So distracted was he by his mourning that he barely noticed them moving into the final stages of resurrection. But he did notice the Tower. It called to him, bright and shining. Before he could do anything more than turn towards it that feeling cut off, and almost instantly he felt currents swirl around him as though water was rushing to fill an empty space. And he knew that Michael was gone.

The others made their way over to the sheep pen and he followed them, watching curiously as Michael emerged. Or, something that looked similar to Michael. There was corruption eating away at it, green skin and red eyes and something wrong in its very nature. But then it smiled and spoke and he was able to push those worries aside. He gathered himself and focused on a simple message, congratulating his boi on his resurrection. But no one noticed.

He tried again, this time making sure he could feel the words manifest, but the others seemed too wrapped up in Michael’s return to sense them. And Michael… felt cut off. No longer seaweed brushing against him, so faint he could barely tell it was there, now he was a star a million miles away, no hope of contact and knowing it would never even know you were there.

He’d heard the others talk about the consequences of resurrection, how it was a one-time only deal, but there was a world of difference between hearing the words and feeling the reality. Michael was gone. He would never again find his way to this state between life and death. If he died…

He shook himself. He just needed to wait for his own resurrection. Then he’d be able to talk with Michael again. And surely it wouldn’t take too long, they would be able to get the obsidian no problem and just needed to focus on finding gold. And he could help with that! As soon as the others were willing to listen.

Then the worries slunk in about what would happen if- when he came back. What kind of abomination he’d be. He was already part Creeper, and the thought of becoming any less human was worrying. It was entirely possible that this corruption was from the other place and he’d be safe from it. Or it might have crept in between here and the world of the living.

He made his way over to where the others were getting back to work, not wanting to dwell any longer on what-might-be’s, only to find that they were turning their resources towards building a Nether portal instead of the next resurrection ritual. Again he tried to speak to them, to plead with them, but again they didn't hear him.

He flew about the island, looking for the one person he was sure would listen to him, but Alfredo was nowhere to be found. He knew Alfredo couldn't be dead, he would have noticed a new soul passing through, so instead he must have gone exploring again. The open ocean seemed to call to Alfredo. Gavin knew it would get him killed one of these days. But he was bound to the island and could do nothing to help.

And then Ryan died. For a moment Gavin felt sickening elation. Finally, he’d be able to talk to someone! But Ryan immediately went to Jeremy's side and focused on steering him towards more gold for another ritual, managing to get the words across without any apparent difficulty. He ignored Gavin, too distracted by his quest for life, and the others still wouldn’t listen and Michael was galaxies away and Matt and Geoff were in the other place and dear, sweet Alfredo, who had fought so hard in his favour, was bewitched by the very thing that had spelled doom for so many.

He drifted away, not quite knowing what he could do. He couldn’t bear to be around the house any longer, but he couldn’t leave the island and the other place still instilled a bone-deep terror in him, despite the fact that he didn’t have any bones. Eventually, he sank beneath the earth.

It was dark down here, but no darker than it was anywhere else. He sank down and down, feeling the pressure grow, until he came across bedrock. He was startled to find that it was solid to the touch, and that was such a strange feeling. It almost made him feel alive again.

He lay down to gather his thoughts, but found them swirling and impossible to focus on. The Void beneath him wasn’t helping matters, creating a strange lethargy even though he couldn’t sleep. He could feel it pulling at him, too. Promising to unmake him, to wipe this world of his presence. He wondered if he’d already fallen in and just not realised yet.

Above there was a flash of light and a swirl of darkness and he knew Ryan was already gone. He didn’t know what projects they’d turn to next, if they’d try to bring back one of the others or travel across to the new land where the ghosts couldn’t follow. If they did resurrect someone again, he entertained the idea of using the Tower for himself, slipping in before the other soul. He didn’t know if he’d wake up in another body or if there’d be some other, more dire consequence, but he found that he didn’t really care. Though, to be fair, he wasn’t feeling much of anything at the moment.

His thoughts returned to those vague half-memories, which seemed clearer down here. How much Michael had missed him, the anger Jeremy felt at his death, the uproar it sparked as the others fell like dominoes in a cycle of revenge. He knew it was wrong, but he found himself wishing for even a fraction of that chaos again. Some kind of splashing to alert the others to his slow sinking.

Being dead was an awful lot like drowning. People rarely noticed you needed a life preserver.

#ydyd #ya dead ya dead #ydyd spoilers #ydyd season 2 #My writing #snippet time #could probably do with some editing?#and the next episode is definitely going to joss this #but eff it #i enjoyed writing this and so i wanna share it!#hope you enjoy too #<3 #ryan /

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