#source: fruits!mag
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@non-suspiciousname @junipercastor i’m not a dietician or doctor disclaimer disclaimer if you have preexisting conditions this may not be for you disclaimer disclaimer i cannot account for every human experience disclaimer disclaimer BUT the easiest way to do this is to first learn what “high fiber foods” means.
and before i begin, here’s how much fiber we more or less need via a helpful Harvard health article.
so, to recap: for women—the ones who matter to me—that’s 25g for adult women who are 50 and under. women 50 and over, that’s 21g.
and i included the extra paragraph about Metamucil etc bc that is important to note. a lot of people do think they’re getting quality daily fiber in these powders.
here’s a helpful article abt the differences between soluble and insoluble fiber. both are important in their own ways!
and just so we’re clear on the benefits of upping your fiber intake:
so!
i recommend a quick google to see the fiber content per serving of a variety of foods that i don’t have time condense here. but, like, beans are a really inexpensive way to do this (add some rice to it and you have a complete muscle-lovin’ protein btw! all the essential amino acids are covered when you combine rice and beans 🫶). beans and legumes are incredibly rich in fiber, and they’re budget-friendly, shelf-stable, and easy to make and easy to incorporate into infinite delicious possible dishes.
but your fiber can be gotten from so many different sources! (my data here is approximate from individual checking. pls allow 1-2g of fiber for margin of error in case i mistype!)
for fruits: 1 cup of blackberries OR raspberries has 8g of fiber!!!!! 1 medium apple has around 4-5g of fiber. an average banana or a serving of strawberries have 3g of fiber. an average avocado has 10g of fiber. and so forth
for grains: steel-cut oats have 5g of fiber per 1/4 cup uncooked (oats are generally rich in fiber anyway, but steel cut in particular). a slice of whole grain bread should have around 3g fiber. brown rice contains 3.5g fiber for every cooked cup. one cup of cooked quinoa (which is also a complete protein!) contains 5g of fiber. bran is almost 15g per one cup serving.
if you’ve got access to chia seeds, a 1oz serving provides 10g fiber. here’s a yummy super easy recipe for peanut butter chia pudding!!!
nuts and seeds provide a lot of fiber too. 1oz of walnuts contains nearly 2g fiber! 1oz of almonds contains 3.5g fiber. peanuts contain 2.5g fiber for 1oz. sunflower seeds are 12g per 1 cup serving (though that’s a lot of them to eat—1/4 a cup would be closer to 3g)
and my fave prunes are 12g per one cup serving. again, that’s a lot of them to eat. 1/4 of that would be 3g.
beans/legumes are king for fiber. 1 cup of cooked black beans contains 15g of fiber. 1 cup of navy beans contains around 19g of fiber. 1 cup of kidney beans contains 11g of fiber.
split peas are i think around 8g per cup when cooked? cooked broccoli is around 5g. corn is around 4g.
i could go on but i’m literally hooked up to an IV for medication rn so i’m one-handed lol i apologize for how cramped this is
but here’s a great list from the Mayo Clinic of high fiber foods and another list of 40 foods from a women’s health mag and also another from healthline, which also has a handy chart for fiber requirements for more specific age groups based on sex
and yes, there are also high-fiber cereals, but beware of the much-touted and rightly-feared ingredient of psyllium husk. it’s more or less used as a laxative and can be outright dangerous for your digestive system and is very painful if not consumed in militant moderation. ask me how i know lol. please please be careful of psyllium husk. like, for real. just stay away from it altogether imo.
sorry this is a lot of discombobulated info, but again i’m one handed at the moment. but hopefully that helps a bit! fiber is linked to longevity and good colon health and that’s what i want for women forever
EDIT: go slow with this! if you’re not used to the recommended daily intake, you will need to gradually work up to this so as not to upset your gastrointestinal system. you may otherwise find yourself in discomfort. GO SLOW. add fiber-rich foods in small portions over time to allow your body to adjust. it is well worth the patience—but don’t overload your system by eating a ton of prunes and thinking you’re doing yourself any good that way. introduce gently and in moderation until you feel comfortable with how it makes your digestion feel!
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V I C T O R ‘ S C R O W N ⸻
type: excerpt
word count: 2,826
warning(s): mentions of alcoholism and drug abuse
status: published
⸻ C H A P T E R [ 8 ]
When he arrives back on his floor for dinner, he expects Mags to be waiting for him like she was the night before. Instead, a note lies on the table in the center of the room.
Gone to a meeting with Abalone, it reads. Get some rest.
She must be meeting with potential sponsors. The thought consoles Finnick somewhat as he swipes a piece of fruit from a centerpiece bowl.
A terrific crash fires a jolt of alarm down Finnick's spine. Before he even has time to think, he'd dropped the fruit, swiped a knife from the table, and is creeping toward the source of the noise, every sense shifted to high alert.
Then a shattering sound erupts from behind a door—Caspia's door. Holding his knife aloft, Finnick edges toward the door and carefully pushes it open.
"Caspia? Are you okay?"
"Get out!" Something small hurtles toward his head. Only a lifetime of training lends him the speed necessary to yank his head behind the door before something glass shatters against it. He waits until it's been quiet for a few moments before he dares to crack the door again.
Illuminated by a broad shaft of light streaming in from the hall, Caspia is sprawled on the mutilated remains of her bed in almost total darkness. The glint of a knife clutched in her hand makes Finnick's heart plummet to his gut, but then she stirs, throwing a hand over her eyes and turning her head away from the light. Finnick barely stops a noise of shock from escaping his throat. Locks of long, dark hair are strewn about the room, littering the bed, the floor—even stuck to the ceiling. It's as though a hurricane has devastated the room. Caspia has put her knife to good use beyond her own head, tearing up her mattress and duvet, scoring jagged gashes across the walls, driving the blade repeatedly into the ceiling. Dishes, clothes, and other unidentifiable objects in various states of ruin mingle with the hair on the floor, making safe passage to Caspia's bed nearly impossible. Most prominent amidst the mess is the presence of bottles. Some shattered, their contents creating amorphous stains on the floor. Others half empty, sitting on dressers or the bed. The reek of old liquor stings his nose, and bile creeps up the back of his throat.
"Caspia, what—"
"It'll just get in my way anyway."
Get in the way? "But it was so—"
"Beautiful?" Caspia lets out a harsh, dry laugh, strident and mirthless in the dark. "Nothing of mine could ever compare to you."
So Mags was right about the jealousy thing. "But you're a Career," Finnick finds himself saying. He inches further into the room, careful navigating around shards of glass or other broken items. A part of him wonders why he's trying to encourage her, especially when he'd just dismissed her as a lost cause earlier the same day. "You've got a way better chance than any of those Callows, and probably some of the Primaries! The boy from Two is incompetent, and neither tribute from One even showed up at training today."
"It doesn't matter," she mumbles without budging an inch. "None of it matters."
"Come on," Finnick says cajolingly. "To be a victor, you have to have the attitude of a victor. What would Abalone say if he saw you like this?"
"He wouldn't care," Caspia replies bitterly, speech amplified and slurred by liquor. "He doesn't care about me."
"I'm sure that's not true," Finnick starts, but Caspia makes a derisive noise in the back of her throat, cutting him off.
"You wouldn't know anything," she sneers. "Your mentor loves you, just like everyone else."
It pains him, Finnick realizes. It pains him like a broken rib to see Caspia Deltan—trenchant, unshakable Caspia Deltan—brought so low. If the Games can get the best of Caspia before they've even begun, what will they do to him?
"Caspia..."
She bolts upright as though struck by lightning. Finnick starts, sure he's about to be evading knives next. Caspia's newly shorn hair sticks out in ragged clumps from her head and there's a wild desperation in her eyes, reminding Finnick of a netted fish being hauled up to the boat. "Leave."
Anger, repressed, diluted, and ignored since the moment they first spoke, shoots to the surface, a flashflood of emotion Finnick has tried and failed to drain many times before. "Fine. But you know what? I want you to hate me. Hunt me down, slit my throat in the Games. Because at least then you haven't given up." Finnick's knife is alive in his hand—a lifeboat stranded far out at sea, bobbing in endless circles with nowhere to go. "I don't care if you're jealous of me, I don't care if you don't think you have a chance. You can't let them win already. Nothing in the Games is set in stone. I could get my head chopped off in the first five minutes of the Games. But you know what? I'm still going to fight."
"Because it's your duty." The words are drawn out, dripping with scorn. "Because big man Finnick Odair thinks he has to save everyone."
"Because my district needs me," Finnick snaps. So does his tenuous hold on his temper. The tirade rushes forth, a river gushing past a broken dam. "You don't think it's hard, being down there with One and Two, seeing how confident and strong and skilled they are? I have to try to compete with them! I have to kill every single one of them, and the Callows too! I can't let them win. I deserve to live. I deserve to live!"
Almost of its own volition, Finnick's own knife flies out of his hand and plunges into the wall across from him, embedded hilt deep in the smooth, cream surface. Finnick steps back, staring at the quivering handle like he doesn't know who had just thrown it.
Caspia is staring at him now, half-lidded eyes glazed and barely functioning, but staring nonetheless. "Well, well," she murmurs. "I knew you couldn't keep up the selfless little hero act forever."
Her words push Finnick off a high place, perhaps one of piers extending from the shore of District 4. He's weightless, scrabbling for purchase, bracing for impact. So much of his time has been occupied finding ways to survive he hasn't really taken the time to think about why. Why should he have to spend his whole life training for the Hunger Games? Why should he have to provide for his district? Why should he have to put his life on the line? The questions racing through his mind do nothing to mitigate the ire building within him. Righteous anger—a seething vortex of acid, bone-deep fury whirling in his gut—spills over into his lungs, creeps up his throat, incendiary. He breathes fire and sees red. He wants to scream. He wants to cry. He wants to raze the Capitol to the ground with his hurricane-rage.
I know it's hard, dear boy. Mags is there, solid and unflappable, and Finnick's head is pressed against her stomach, face turned so his tears don't stain her shirt. He is fourteen years old, it's the evening before the Reaping, and this is the last time he let himself cry in front of anyone. Cry all of your tears now, and give me all of your sorrow. You cannot afford either in the Games.
Somehow, years of discipline and self-regulation regain their iron grip on his emotions. Finnick inhales deeply and lets the fresh air fill his lungs, sweeping away the hysteria creeping in on him. The entity deserving of his wrath is as inaccessible as the stars. He's just reaching for something closer.
"I'm not a hero," he says, once he's recovered control of his vocal faculties. "But I'm trying. You don't have to be a hero, Caspia. But you shouldn't give up. I...I don't want you to give up."
Caspia doesn't respond. She just gazes at him, expression slack and unresponsive. She might've not even registered what he said. Regardless, Finnick is done.
"I'll call in an Avox to help you clean up," he finds himself saying, and walks out of the room, leaving his knife buried in the wall.
━━━━━━━━━ ♆ ━━━━━━━━━
It's the final day of training, and Finnick walks into the Training Center to find the Primaries in deep conversation next to the wrestling mat. Immediately his guard goes up: Are they talking about him? Are they debating whether to kick him out of the pack for leaving yesterday?
"Four." Ruby beckons him over, and it feels like she's loosened a belt cinched around his chest.
Alabaster doesn't react beyond the perfunctory nod as Finnick approaches, which he supposes is an improvement from sucker punching him in the face.
"We're discussing if we want to expand our ranks or leave them as is," Ruby explains in a low voice.
Instantly Finnick thinks of Caspia. Caspia, lying on her destroyed bed, surrounded by bottles of liquor and shorn locks of her own hair. "Do you have anyone in mind?"
"You seem to be pretty chummy with some of them," Alabaster points out. "So what do you think? Are any of the Callows worth our time?"
Finnick tries not to bristle at the thinly veiled accusation. He moves down a mental list of tributes numerically. "The girl from Seven is excellent at traps. She might come in handy."
"No," Bellona says immediately. "She's a bloodbath mark."
After capturing the Cornucopia, selecting which tributes to target in the bloodbath is a vital aspect of Career strategy. The layout of the arena and location of the Cornucopia vary widely, but overall tactics remain the same: Seize the Cornucopia, monopolize arena resources, and eliminate threats at the bloodbath. Who lives and who dies in the initial slaughter frequently dictates the outcome of the Games. Leave the wrong snake alive and it will come back to bite you, Mags often quipped. Conversely, if you kill the wrong snake, it won't be there to get rid of the rats. And rats, when left to their own devices, can be just as deadly as any snake.
The pack's final choices will be solidified after individual assessment scores are released, but it sounds like they've already decided the girl from Seven is too dangerous a snake to be left alive.
Of course, the boy from Ten would probably make a good ally, but Finnick knows better than to mention him. "How about the girl from Eleven? She's sturdy and well-fed; could be useful in a fight."
This time, Ruby shakes her head. "Too defiant. She'd just as soon stab us in the back as help us."
"So we're keeping things amongst ourselves then." Bellona nods conclusively, as if this is the result she'd anticipated from the start.
"Should we go over marks just to make sure we're all on the same page?" Finnick asks. Since you apparently picked them without me? It's probably his fault, considering he didn't arrive until nine thirty, but he didn't fall asleep until well after two in the morning. Even now, fatigue tugs at him with warm, persistent hands, filling his eyes with sand and his limbs with lead.
There's a small pause in which the Primaries are obviously selecting what information they want to reveal and what information they want to keep to themselves. Finnick allows the silence to abide, grow stale and uncomfortable. Many times, silence is a more effective communication technique than a barrage of inquiries.
"Alabaster will go after Caspia," Bellona finally says, as clinical and blunt as ever. "You won't even have to watch."
Alabaster jerks his head, a smirk playing across his lips. "I'll take her and the runt from Ten," he says. "Teach them to talk back to me."
A vague sense of nausea crawls into Finnick's gut and takes root there, churning his stomach like a stormy sea. "Okay."
"I'll hit the runners," Bellona says. "Miles will pick up creepers and hiders."
"I'm good with reconnaissance," Ruby offers.
"I'll stick close to the Cornucopia," Finnick suggests. "Help pick off stragglers with Miles."
"No, you should do long-distance," Ruby says. "You're much better with spears than swords."
Now, how could she know that unless Two ratted him out? As far as he knows, neither tribute from One saw him practice yesterday, and Alabaster decked him before he got the chance to touch a blade the first day.
He can hear Mags' warning now, ringing in his ear as if she were standing right next to him. District 4 will be the outsider, the first to get taken out when the alliance dissolves. Without Caspia there to watch your back, you'll need to be extra careful.
Given the choice, he'd probably choose to stick close to Ruby, not because they're compatible fighters but because he wants to keep an eye on her. She's sly in a way Alabaster hasn't mastered and possesses charm neither Bellona nor Miles can match. But as much as he hates to admit it, she's right. He's always been better with long-distance weapons, which is probably why he took to the trident so well.
"Fine," he says. He'll probably end up working with Bellona, who also unnerves him but in a different way. "But I—" The sight of another tribute entering the gymnasium cuts him off. Caspia, hands stuffed in her pockets, skulking like she's not supposed to be there. She catches Finnick's eye too quickly to be a coincidence, then looks away just as quickly.
Finnick doesn't bother to ask permission. He rushes over to her, long legs crossing the space between them in a few strides. "Caspia! Caspia, wait!"
She waits until he nearly runs into her to turn and address him. She looks surprisingly good for someone who'd been caught in the throes of a mental breakdown merely hours before. Someone—probably an Avox—shaved the bottom portion of her head and trimmed the top, leaving a stylish fringe in place of haphazard tufts. The bags under her eyes are no more noticeable than they'd been when she first arrived at the Capitol, and her mien, while sober, is thankfully just that—sober. "Finnick."
An infectious grin spreads over Finnick's face despite his efforts to contain it. "Couldn't get enough of me, huh?"
Caspia grunts, eyes rolled heavenward. "Do you ever stop?"
"Never," Finnick replies cheerfully. "What made you decide to come down and mingle with the common folk today?"
The moment the question leaves his lips he realizes it was the wrong thing to say. Caspia's gaze drifts past him to the Career pack, judging them from their corner of the gym. "Why? Do your friends want to know?"
"They don't know anything about you," Finnick responds hurriedly, afraid she's about to walk away. "Listen, Caspia. It's not too late to join. They trust me. I'll put in—"
"No." Caspia is guarded now, all of her defenses thrown up: chin lifted, arms crossed, eyes hard and searching. She's ready for another fight.
Finnick is pretty sure his heart wilts a little in his chest. "Are you sure?"
A single, dark eyebrow creeps up in a familiarly exasperated expression. "Yes, I'm sure. Go ahead and tell me how selfish and stupid I am."
Ouch. It takes a lot of self-control to keep from wincing. Finnick just shakes his head, schooling his features into something he hopes resembles humility. "Look...I'm sorry for, you know, everything I said. How you play the Games is up to you, and it's not my place to judge you for it."
Caspia's eyebrows shoot up. "Apology accepted." She takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry for saying all your heroics were fake. You're just trying to help the district; I gotta respect you for it."
Despite the grave, almost pained expression on Caspia's face, Finnick can't keep himself from grinning. "Okay, how hard was it for you to say that?"
"Don't push your luck," Caspia warns. She jerks her chin at the Primaries, whispering among themselves like a high school clique. "You'd better get back to your groupies. They're waiting for you."
"Aye aye, captain." Still facing Caspia, Finnick begins reverse walking in the pack's direction. She shakes her head in mock exasperation, which in Finnick's opinion is a distinct improvement upon bitter animosity. He gives Caspia a farewell salute before spinning around, and he returns to the pack with a little bounce to his step and his smile not yet faded from his face.
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SAMEDI 23 JUILLET 2022 (Billet 2 / 4)
Au téléphone, récemment, une amie nous faisait remarquer que nos séjours à Marrakech ne se ressemblaient jamais, même si certains points restaient les mêmes.
Et elle avait raison !
Notre astuce : nous gardons systématiquement tous les articles qui lui sont consacrés. C’est dans le dernier en date qui listait les 10 plus beaux rooftops de la « Ville Rouge » que nous avons sélectionné celui du Riad « La Sultana ».
Avec le Riad « Kniza » (plus modeste mais culturellement très intéressant, on vous en parlera une prochaine fois…), c’est à ce jour le plus étonnant et le plus luxueux Riad que nous ayons visité depuis que nous allons à Marrakech !
Toutes les photos ci-dessus (et celles du Billet suivant) ont été prises avec l’iPhone de JM
_____________________________
Hôtel/Riad « LA SULTANA » à Marrakech
C'est l'histoire de Marrakech que l'on savoure à l'heure du déjeuner sur ce toit terrasse XXL de 2000 m2, mitoyen des Tombeaux Saadiens. Il offre une incroyable vue plongeante sur la fastueuse nécropole royale redécouverte au début du XXe siècle. Tables en zelliges verts, murs en briquettes ocre et feuillages, la « Table du souk » fait écho au camaïeu des toits qui s'incrustent dans le ciel entre deux palmiers. Dans l'assiette, une savoureuse cuisine locavore, parfumée au safran de Taliouine ou à l'huile d'argan du Souss et des spécialités de la « street food », comme la fameuse soupe d'escargots !
Le prix : environ 30 € le plat, 50 € le menu, 55 € le menu « fruits de mer ».
Conseil : au coucher du soleil, dernier bonheur du jour à l'Odette Rooftop Bar & Mezzé pour un apéritif et petits plats. Le dimanche, on réserve un menu spécial plateau de fruits de mer pour le déjeuner.
(Source : Un article du « Fig Mag » publié quelque temps avant notre départ pour Marrakech)
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God is specific.
✅He is God of specifics.
✅Know your identity God tell you to be.
Dwell on that identity.
✅Progression not perfection.
It is like multiple board exam options that when you are thrown into life, you will sway from one option to another, but when you know your specifics, you will know.
It should be practical.
Because He is specific.
Sino ka ba?
Sino ba si Mike nuon, sino yung Mike na hinubog ni Lord bago makapunta sa lugar na to?
Maraming opportunities, pero God is so specific on those opportunities too.
If it came from God, it will bear much fruit.🌳🍒🍓🍇🍎🍉🍋
Si Mike yung bunso.
Yung matampuhing bunso so God is telling me to guard my heart; to don't loose it.
Yung passionate mag share, so God is telling me to feed my mind so its gonna be so enriching that it can help others.
Yung masayanin, so God is telling me to protect my inner peace.
Honestly, I still sway from one side to another..I'm still floating.
But I have a source and He does not lie.
To whatever it is you are going through, the uncertainty of the future~~We have an Anchor and it holds.
That the power, and wisdom will be seen in our life.
I dont know where you at today, but dont loose heart.
Dont give up.
It cannot be stolen from you.
It will be well.
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How to Grow Magic Mushroom Spores: A Comprehensive Guide
Introduction
Magic mushrooms have been used for centuries for their hallucinogenic properties and potential therapeutic benefits. If you're interested in cultivating your own magic mushrooms, it all starts with spores. In this guide, we'll walk you through the process of growing magic mushroom spores step by step.
Understanding Magic Mushroom Spores
Before we delve into the cultivation process, let's take a closer look at what magic mushroom spores are and why they are essential for mushroom growth.
Magic mushroom spores are microscopic reproductive cells produced by mature mushrooms. They contain the genetic material needed to develop into a full-grown mushroom. Spores are often released into the air and can be collected for cultivation purposes.
1. Choosing the Right Mushroom Species
Not all mushrooms contain psilocybin, the compound responsible for the psychedelic effects of magic mushrooms. It's crucial to select a mushroom species that is known to produce psilocybin. Some popular choices include Psilocybe cubensis and Psilocybe semilanceata.
2. Sourcing Magic Mushroom Spores
Obtaining high-quality magic mushroom spores is the foundation of successful cultivation. You can purchase spore syringes or spore prints from reputable suppliers. Ensure that the supplier adheres to legal regulations regarding the sale of spores in your area.
3. Creating a Sterile Environment
Maintaining a sterile environment is essential to prevent contamination during the cultivation process. Use a laminar flow hood or a still air box to work in a clean, controlled space. Sterilize all equipment, including jars and utensils, using a pressure cooker.
4. Preparing the Substrate
The substrate is the material that provides nutrients for the magic mushrooms to grow. Common substrates include brown rice flour and vermiculite. Mix the substrate ingredients thoroughly, ensuring even distribution.
5. Inoculating the Substrate with Spores
Using a spore syringe, inject the magic mushroom spores into the prepared substrate. Make sure to evenly distribute the spores to encourage uniform growth. Seal the jars with breathable lids and cover them with aluminum foil.
6. Incubation
Place the inoculated jars in a dark, warm location for the mycelium to colonize the substrate. Maintain the temperature and humidity levels within the optimal range for the specific mushroom species you are cultivating.
7. Fruiting
Once the mycelium has fully colonized the substrate, move the jars to a well-ventilated area with indirect light. Small mushroom pins will begin to form, eventually growing into mature mushrooms.
8. Harvesting Magic Mushrooms
Harvest the mature mushrooms when they reach their peak size but before the caps fully open. Use a clean, sharp knife or scissors to cut the mushrooms at the base of the stem.
9. Drying and Storing
To preserve the potency of your magic mushrooms, dry them thoroughly using a food dehydrator or desiccant. Store the dried mushrooms in an airtight container in a cool, dark place.
10. Safety Precautions
It's essential to be aware of the potential risks associated with magic mushrooms. Start with a low dose if you are new to psychedelic substances, and always have a trusted friend with you during your experiences.
11. Legal Considerations
The legality of magic mushrooms varies by country and state. Research and understand the laws and regulations in your area before cultivating or consuming magic mushrooms.
12. Common Mistakes to Avoid
Avoid common pitfalls such as inadequate sterilization, incorrect substrate ratios, and contamination. Learning from mistakes is part of the cultivation process, but diligence is key to success.
13. FAQs
Q1. Can I grow magic mushrooms indoors?
Q2. How long does it take for magic mushrooms to grow?
Q3. Are there any alternatives to using a pressure cooker for sterilization?
Q4. What are the potential therapeutic benefits of magic mushrooms?
Q5. Can I sell magic mushrooms if they are legal in my area?
Conclusion
Growing magic mushroom spores can be a rewarding and enlightening experience. By following these steps and guidelines, you can cultivate your own magic mushrooms safely and responsibly. Remember to respect the laws in your area and prioritize safety throughout the entire process.
In recent years, there has been a growing interest in alternative approaches to enhance mental clarity, creativity, and overall well-being. One such practice gaining popularity is microdosing. Deadhead Chemist, a reputable brand, proudly introduces Microdose LSD and Microdose DMT, offering a unique experience tailored to individual needs. This article explores the concept of microdosing, its benefits, and how Deadhead Chemist's premium-quality Canadian-made products can revolutionize your approach to mindful living.
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It's already 1:30 am and I'm still awake and a lot of thoughts inside my head. I don't how to start, I don't know where to begin. I wish I can be the best version of myself I mean I see my progress but I know it's not enough. I want to go further, where I can say or felt the feeling of being satisfied and proud. To be honest marami akong gustong mangyari, gaya ng maging financial stable pero yung salary ko is not enough, gusto ko mag negosyo gusto kong palakihin at paikutin yung pera at ayoko dumipende sa sweldo ko lang. In short gusto ko magkaroon ng maraming source of income.
I want to make my parents proud to the point na masabi nila na worth it yung sacrifices and hirap nila. Gusto ko na ma-experience nila yung fruits ng hardwork nila habang malakas pa sila. Tsaka gusto ko na din mag asawa to be honest hehe gusto ko na bumuo ng pamilya, gusto ko na mag kaanak. Alam ko isa 'to sa pinaka challenging and malaking responsiblities eh kaya gusto ko maging financial stable but I know na God is working on me like preparing me on that, in emotional, physical, social, financial and the important aspect is spiritual though hindi na katulad ng dati yung current situation ko ngayon but I'm hoping on a bounced back, to comeback stronger, my heart is ready.
And I also want to travel around the world pero gusto ko muna mag start sa philippines. Gusto i-explore ang mundo, tumuklas ng maraming bagay. Gusto ko din i-try yung paragliding and snorkling gusto ko makita ang mundo in a different way.
And also, I'm hoping, believing to be in the center of God's will/plan. I mean I want God to be with me all the time through my highs and lows, to my every dissapointments, failure and discouragement, through my success, achievements and every miles stone. I want God to be there, I want Him to recieve the glory though I fail Him today hoping for God's revival.
I'm not a failure. Failure is part of everyone's story, I will not grow if I never fail. Oneday, I will see my self complete in God with my own family. Praying to be the person God's want me to be. As a father, as a person, as a leader and as a man of God!
P.S. this was my thoughts yesterday coz I'm not proud of my performance in work but I know Ican be better, I can do better. I learn and I put it into action. Be with me God, I can be better with you and for you!
PPS. I don't have work tom because yesterday is my last day of training. Waiting for an updates ☺️
Monday Septemer 5,2022 2:02am
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Got Pests? Try These Pest Control Tips
If you have been a homeowner for years or just a few weeks, there is a good chance that you have come face to face with a pest of one kind or another. Knowing what to do when this occurs will help you. Continue reading to learn what to do if you find your home has been invaded by pests.
Do you have a recurring issue with fruit flies? You may have a problem with your drain. Use plastic wrapping on your drain for just a few days. If you find some, pour a little boiling water down the drain and then scrub it well. This will help keep the flies from breeding in there.
You cannot afford to waste any time once you find out your home is infested. Put your valuable belongings in safe places and call an exterminator as soon as possible. If the exterminator you called cannot come to your home within the next couple of days, keep looking for another available professional.
Make Mag 322 Iptv Subscription that your house is sealed at all times so that the bugs from the outside cannot get in. You can place a rubber barrier under your doormat, which is a common entryway of bugs from the outside. This will help to seal your house so that bugs cannot come in and disrupt you.
Begin with the basics. You must get to the root of your pest issues. Things such as food, water and available shelter all make your home tempting to pests. Eliminating any entrances to your home and securing any food sources is the first step to dealing with the problem.
Try to limit the amount of warm environments that you have in your house. Go around to different rooms in your home and try to gauge the temperature where the pests would want to live in the most. If you find a room that is too hot, try to reduce the overall temperature there.
Keep your plumbing clear of debris if you would like to keep pests out of your home. Be sure all drains and sinks are unclogged around your home and inside your home. Any buildup can attract flies and roaches that are looking for a meal. After you clear them, check regularly for clogs.
You need to check your whole house, even if many areas usually don't show signs of pests. If your home has an underground component to it, you may be susceptible to subterranean termites. Check out your basement and any other underground area.
If rodents such as raccoons or skunks are tearing your garbage bags, set a trap where you usually leave your garbage. Attract the animal with a piece of meat and make sure the trap you use is large enough for the animals you have observed. If possible, release the animal in the woods instead of killing it.
An electronic pest repellent is an effective option. These tiny devices plug into room outlets where they emit a sound that chases rodents away. You may not be able to hear it and it will not hurt you or your pets. Rodents hate the noise, keeping them away.
If you are a pet owner it is not recommended that you use poisons that kill mice and rats. If a dog or cat catches the sick rodent or starts playing with one that's dead, it may consume the poison too. Poison and other dangerous chemicals are a problem if you have young children. Kids might think the pellets are candy.
Make sure that there is proper ventilation in all areas of your home and also the attic. This is important as pests will feast on low quality air, which can be caused by poor ventilation. Make sure that your vents are working efficiently and get them checked frequently throughout the year.
You now have information that you can use for the rest of your life. There will always be a chance of pests in your home, but now that you know how to get rid of them, things are going to be better. Write them down or print them out so you have them on hand for the next time you find a pest in your home.
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Made baby padfoot. obviously want all my bitches to be wearing black lipstick
#kchkchclhc#sirius black#sirius black fanart#padfoot#harry potter fanart#the marauders#hp marauders#marauders era#marauders#marauders era fanart#hp fanart#i obviously hate making backgrounds so just stuck some fucking dots in there#also i used a reference#source: fruits!mag#sirius' outfit is entirely fruitsmag#i have no imagination#ofcourse sirius has two piercings#on and below his nose#why the fuck is the quality so shit#let's call this practice#or something#my first sirius#whee#hope you like his hair#wow the quality makes me want to#do things
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Dahlia, the Botanist warframe.
So Dahlia has kind of a long history... mostly consisting of not being made lol. Well anyways Dahlia the Botanist is here now. Look forward to a "sister" frame being designed by @northstarring at some point in the future.
Health: 115 (345 at rank 30)
Shields: 115 (345 at rank 30)
Armor: 100
Energy: 200 (300 at rank 30)
Sprint Speed: 1
Passive: Dahlia can summon a maximum of six plants at a time, and no more than three of them can be Aggressive Weeds. While standing within the attack range of one of her Aggressive Weed plants Dahlia gains an additional 20% damage on her primary, seconday, and melee weapons. While standing in the effect range of one of her Protective Growth plants Dahlia gains 175 armor. When standing within the effect range of one of her Soothing Bloom plants Dahlia's shield regeneration delay is decreased by 30% and shield regeneration is increased by 20%.
Ability 1: Aggressive Weed, 25 energy. Spawns one of three offensive plants that fires projectiles at the nearest enemy within 30 meters once per second that deal 75 points of physical & 75 points of elemental damage gaining a multiplier based on the enemy's level (2x for enemies level 20 to 29, 3x for enemies level 30 to 39, 4x for enemies level 40 to 49, etc) with 15% status chance. Each plant lasts for 15 seconds. Tap to cycle between plants, hold to summon.
Saryn's Thorn: Puncture & corrosive damage
Mag's Berry: Impact & magnetic damage
Garuda's Nettle: Slash & gas damage
Ability 2: Protective Growth, 50 energy. Spawns one of three plants with defense-oriented powers. These plants and their effects last for 10 seconds. Tap to cycle between plants, hold to summon.
Khora's Ivy: Launches grasping vines that grab enemies within 18 meters and drags them to the Ivy's location.
Equinox's Lavender: Puts all enemies within 10 meters to sleep, rendering them vulnerable to melee finishers and increasing the damage they take from all sources by 50%.
Nova's Fruit: Creates a fruiting body that attracts aggression from enemies within 18 meters, absorbing all damage dealt. When the fruit expires it explodes dealing blast damage equal to 200% of the damage absorbed to all enemies within a 15 meter radius.
Ability 3: Soothing Bloom, 75 energy: Summons a supporting plant to help Dahlia and her party members for 20 seconds. Tap to cycle between plants, hold to summon.
Trinity's Rose: Heals allies within 8 meters of the rose for 40 points of health/shields per second. Healing from this ability does not grant overshields.
Banshee's Bluebell: Silences the equipped weapons of all party members within 15 meters making them less likely to alert enemies & adds 50% crit chance to all weapons, which is increased to 100% on headshots.
Titania's Wisteria: Grants allies within 12 meters immunity to all negative status effects including stagger and knockdown.
Ability 4: Yareli's Rain, 100 energy. Summons a glorious rain that nurtures Dahlia's summoned plants. All currently summoned plants have their duration timers paused, gain 50% increased range, and 100% strength for 10 seconds. Nova's Fruit retains this bonus until expiration.
Subsumed ability: Protective Growth (range is reduced)
Signature Weapons
Kudzu: A beautifully made arm-cannon style weapon with a slender and elegant body with shaping and motiffs of old Earth plants. This weapon has a held beam trigger similar in nature to the Vermisplicer kitgun chamber, firing up to five tendrils that can latch onto different enemies and stay locked onto them. Deals roughly even values of impact, puncture, and slash damage with high crit at the cost of low status. When wielded by Dahlia this weapon gains an additional 15% crit chance from the Banshee's Bluebell and deals an additional 15% bonus damage to enemies afflicted by Equinox's Lavender.
Rafflesia: A Tenno gunblade that looks like a work of art, with a tubular body with long curving blades extending from it. Regular melee attacks deal mostly slash damage with moderate impact and puncture. Ranged fire attacks fire slow-moving explosive projectiles that automatically home-in on targets. Moderate speed and damage balance with above-average crit and status chance. When wielded by Dahlia kills with this weapon's projectiles heal her for 25 health.
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I love all the fashion on here so much 😻🤩 ,, do you have any recommendations for fashion blogs or designers that you follow to find these looks ?
oh boy, my methods are FAR from organized but i do definitely have some go-tos!
-i use a lot of digital magazines, especially i-D and DAZED (NSFW warning for DAZED!)
-there's actually a lot of people selling old streetwear magazines like FRUiTS on eBay and they usually have scans of their covers and sometimes the inner pages; but i just found a "fuck yeah FRUiTS" blog on tumblr so i'll definitely dive into their archive soon
-recently found this insta account for a student-run japanese streetwear mag called Fanatic but unfortunately it looks defunct :( the account is fanatic_tokyo on IG
- thierrymugler on tumblr has (obviously) an archive of Mugler stuff
-Vogue has an endless collection of runway photos on their site; specific designers i like to looks for are Thierry Mugler, Moschino, Gareth Pugh, Jean Paul Gaultier, and Pierre Cardin (his work is mostly from the 60s so most photos are from museum collections and vintage photoshoots)
-when all else fails you find some really cool stuff just clicking around on pinterest (which usually leads you to more mag articles), but the issue with pinterest is that it makes it difficult to find sources sometimes, ESPECIALLY for hair photos
-i personally don't like to shop on depop for a number of reasons BUT there are a lot of cool designers on there selling their handmade clothing, which is cool if you're looking to find this kinda stuff irl!
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Chapter 20
The Sins I've done.
The warm lights of the sun fell on Magnus' exposed body making him stir in his sleep. He fluttered his eyes open and found himself wrapped in the cage of his husband's arms. A light smile played on his lips. He looked at him who was looking heavenly, the rays of sun-soaking his body was making him glow. His pale skin was shining brightly in a shade of gold.
"Stop staring, love," Alec said in his morning husky voice, then slowly opened his eyes. The shade of red creeping over his warlock's face was beautiful. He smiled and kissed those red cheeks.
"Morning, love."
"Good Morning! How long were you awake?"
"Not long, but I was enjoying the feeling of holding my husband in my arms."
Magnus pouted. "Not fair!"
Alec chuckled and kissed his warlock softly tasting his morning breath, the one he loves so much.
"I'm going to make breakfast for us, you go get freshen up till then," Alec said and kissed him again.
"Okay!" The warlock whispered softly. The feeling he was having was really weird for him. Everything was looking so heavenly and right. So calming. It was scary, it felt like the calm before the storm. He eventually got up and left for the bathroom.
Alec got up too and left for the kitchen. He prepared a breakfast of pancakes, two fried eggs, crispy bacon, butter toast, a bowl of diced fruits, a glass of orange juice for Magnus, and a cup of coffee for himself. Just as he was placing everything on the tray, his husband walked into the kitchen.
As usual, Magnus was looking beautiful. His clothes were not as bright as his usual clothes, but they suited him really well. He was wearing a simple dark blue button-down shirt with black pants, the jewelry was minimal and he was barefoot for now.
He walked towards the coffee table where Alec had placed their breakfast and they sat on their respective chairs eating in comfortable silence until Alec broke it.
"Hey, love. I have to leave early today, I have some important work scheduled and I can't miss it. I'll try to be back early though. Are you okay with it?"
Magnus nodded. He knew his shadowhunter had duties. He can't complain about it or force him to stay. So he didn't say much.
After finishing the rest of the breakfast in silence, Alec quickly got dressed up and was ready to leave. While he was getting dressed up he noticed that Magnus was standing in front of the mirror looking at himself with a blank expression on his face. He quickly got dressed up then walked towards his husband and hugged him from behind.
"Penny for your thoughts?" He asked and kissed him on top of his head.
Magnus looked at his husband from the mirror, his eyes were hazy but he didn't know why. He relaxed a little when the grip of his shadowhunter's arms tightened around his waist.
"Nothing, just feeling a little low. I.. I want you to stay but I know you have to go to work." He looked down at the floor.
"Hey!" Alec started and turned his husband towards him, then put his fingers below his chin and tilted his head upwards, and kissed him on the bridge of his nose. Magnus slowly lifted his eyes and looked at him. "I'm sorry, Mags. I want to stay too, but I have some important work today. I promise I'll be back as soon as possible. And if you're feeling low, just rest okay? I'll be home as soon as I can, okay?"
Magnus hugged his husband tightly and rested his head on his chest. He felt his husband's lips on top of his head. "Okay, Alexander. Just, please come home soon."
"I'll come home soon only if you let me go, love."
Magnus broke the hug and looked at his shadowhunter, his eyes were glossy again. He didn't know what was happening, but he didn't like it.
Alec wrapped his hands around Magnus' neck and kissed him passionately.
"Bye, Mags, I'll see you in the evening."
Magnus said goodbye and watched his shadowhunter leaving the loft. He sighed. Everything seemed weird today.
____________________________________
Magnus spent the whole day dealing with frustrating clients, watching boring TV shows, and summoning some Italian food for lunch. It was already 5:30 and he was waiting for his husband to arrive. He was lying down on the couch going through stupid mundane shows when the doorbell rang. His face lit up, he waved his hands and opened the door. As soon as he saw the person his happiness turned into anger.
"What are you doing here? How are you here in the first place and how were you able to break my wards?"
"Oh my love, so many questions. Relax. You blocked my number so I thought visiting you would be best. Aren't you surprised to see me?"
"No, I'm not Camille Belcourt. I'm asking again, how are you here?"
"I have my way, Magnus. I'm a vampire if you're forgetting."
"No, I'm not." He said coldly. "How did you break my wards?"
"Oh, Magnus." She smirked, "It's not hard to compel your clients, you know."
Magnus looked at her wide-eyed. "You.... encanto'd my regular client. That's why my wards... what do you want Camille?"
"I already told you, Magnus!" As she started walking towards him, Magnus quickly stood up and tried to back away from her but she used her vampiric powers and pinned him down on the couch and her pointed fingers on his face. "I want you."
"Get your hands off me, Camille."
"Why so bitter Magnus? Didn't you enjoy our time? Why am I even asking, did you kiss me yourself the first time Magnus. Willingly." She smirked.
Tears formed in Magnus' eyes remembering it. "That was a mistake. I hate you with every fiber of my being, Camille Belcourt!" He spat.
"No, you don't, my love." Using her vampiric strength, she pinned him down on the couch and got on top of him. Magnus tried to resist but it went in vain. She stroked his face with her pointed nails and looked him directly in the eyes. Her pupils became larger and wider. "You love me and only me. You want me. I'm your only true love, Magnus."
Magnus tried to resist the encanto but he failed. He didn't know what was wrong with him today. His lips moved automatically. "I love you."
"That's better, my love. Kiss me now, Magnus."
Even though Magnus didn't want to do any of it, his body didn't seem to be in control of him. He felt weak and useless. His lips automatically moved, brushing with her blood-red ones.
Camille smirked in between the kiss. When they broke the kiss, she looked directly into his eyes again with her larger dull black eyes. "Tell me, Magnus, you're doing it willingly?"
"No!"
"Wrong!" She focused on his tear-filled brown eyes again. "You're doing it willingly, my love. This is not encanto, you're doing everything of your free will. You love me and only me. You want to explore every part of my body. Make love to me Magnus. Just the way we used to do."
Magnus nodded against his will. He was in total control of that vampire. Camille smiled viciously. She licked her fangs and looked at the sweet warlock beneath her. She unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt and started kissing him on the neck. When she found the perfect vein, she buried her fangs into it drawing out his blood, and started drinking it. Magnus let out a gasp. He was feeling weak, powerless, and disgusted. He didn't want to do any of it but he felt helpless.
"Make love to me, Magnus." She said again and kissed him hungrily on his lips. She grabbed his shirt and using her vampiric strength and powers she changed their position so that Magnus was on top of her. Magnus leaned down and kissed her again, trailing down towards her jaw and neck. She let out a low moan. "That's right, my love. Just like that. I ask you again, Magnus, are you doing it willingly?"
"Yes, yes I'm doing it willingly." He said and continued with the kisses. Even though he knew it was wrong, he wanted to say no, but he had lost total control of himself. He felt disgusted.
"Look at me, my love." She smirked when he followed. "Remove your wedding and promise rings and throw them away."
Magnus's heart skipped a beat. He hesitated. He didn't want to do that. He tried to back away but she gripped him tightly. She looked him in the eyes and focused on them, her own going completely dull black leaving no whites in it. "I'm saying it again, my love, remove your wedding and promise rings and throw them away. And you're doing it willingly."
Magnus looked like he had seen a ghost. Her eyes going completely black when using encanto was really rare for a vampire. It indicated how dark and dangerous vampires are. She had never shown it before which only meant that turning back into a vampire had made her more vicious than before. He obliged to her immediately.
He took out his rings from the finger, the rings which meant so much to him, the thin platinum ring engraved with black lining, that was the promise ring; the Lightwood ring which Alec wanted to propose from and he turned out to be the one proposing; and finally his wedding ring, it was a beautiful diamond ring but the Lightwood ring mattered to him more.
He looked at them, he didn't want to throw them away but his body and mind weren't in his control at all. He fisted them in his hand and threw them on the floor, he didn't see where they landed. Guilt was building too strongly inside him.
Camille smiled devilishly. Her eyes were still the same and they were really scary. "That's better. I don't want them on you. Now, my love, remove our clothes and make love to me, hardly and roughly."
Magnus obliged. He removed his shirt and Camille's single strapped crimson crop top, which had black embroidery all over it, revealing her blood-red tube bra. "Remove them all, my love." She said smirking, her eyes never leaving Magnus'.
Magnus obliged again. He removed her bra as well then started kissing her all over, leaving light bruises on her neck and chest. Camille had a constant smirk on her face. He then reached for her midnight black jeans and undid them, then he went for his own pants.
He was halfway through undoing his pants when he heard a loud thud and jumped away from her. He looked at the source of it and what he saw was scarier than Camille's full dull black eyes.
His shadowhunter was standing on the entryway leading to the living room, looking at them with shock. Tears were flowing down his cheeks, and he seemed like he couldn't move. His beautiful hazel eyes were not bright as usual and they were showing heartbreak and regret. Something was scattered on the floor which seemed like a bouquet of flowers and some boxes. It was all too blurry.
Magnus's heart started racing badly. His eyes were too foggy to see anything clearly. This isn't what he wanted, he was himself frozen in his place looking at the heartbroken shadowhunter with pleading eyes.
Camille had a constant sly grin on her face as if she had accomplished what she wanted. Her eyes were back to normal again. She took her clothes and quickly dressed. She looked between both the boys who didn't seem to move from their places. She decided to make her last move. She put her pale hands on Magnus' cheeks and turned his face towards her.
"My love, looks like we're interrupted, we'll continue it later, okay?" Magnus nodded unwillingly. She smirked and got way too close to him then looked him in the eye again and whispered "kiss me, Magnus." Magnus obliged immediately.
He kissed her, despite the fact that he didn't want to, he kept kissing her until she broke it. From the corner of his eyes, he could see the shadowhunter was looking down at the floor, tears were flowing down uncontrollably on his cheeks, his breathing was heavy and it seemed like he was looking at something.
It clicked to him at that moment that he was looking at the rings he had thrown earlier unwillingly. Guilt crept inside him, he never wanted to hurt his shadowhunter, but he did it anyway.
Camille broke the kiss and looked at the nephilim, a wicked grin playing on her lips. She stood up looking at the two men one last time and left.
Magnus was frozen in his place and so was Alec. There was dead silence in the room, an uncomfortable creepy silence. Until Alec finally decided to break it.
"Why Magnus?" He whispered, his voice showing no emotion.
Magnus gulped, hard. "A.. I.." he didn't know why, but he wasn't able to form words, he wanted to scream that he didn't do anything, it was all Camille, she encanto'd him to do things to her against his will, that he was innocent, but words betrayed him. He wasn't able to say what he wanted to. "I... I don't know." That was all he was able to say, a teardrop escaped from his eye and fell on his cheek.
Alec bent down and picked up the rings gently, stroking his fingers softly over them. "You don't know!" He whispered, then looked at his husband. "You don't know why you were about to fuck her!?" He yelled.
Magnus flinched back at the tone his shadowhunter had used, he had never used that tone on him. "A.. Alexander.. please...."
"Please what, Magnus?" He sniffed, he was crying uncontrollably. "Did she do this? Did she encanto'd you? Was it her? Tell me, Magnus? Because, from the way I saw it, it didn't look like that. So, tell me if it was her!"
He wanted to say yes, he wanted to tell him that he'll never do something like that to him, that he was innocent, that Camille manipulated him in a wicked way. He wanted to tell the truth but his mind and body were reacting to the stupid encanto Camille did on him. And he hated that. He wanted to break the encanto but he wasn't able to.
"No, she didn't encanto'd me, I did it willingly. I don't know why, but I did it willingly." He repeated what Camille compelled him to say, and cursed himself when he saw his husband's reaction. He had taken a step backward, constantly looking at the floor, and had a blank expression on his face. His tears didn't seem to stop. His breathing was uneven and heavy.
"Why?" He asked with his trembling voice. "I... I know we've been distant for some time, Magnus. We haven't done it in a long time, but it was because of your health, I didn't want to do something when you were not well. I.. I didn't know you were trying to find pleasure from others behind my back." He sniffed and closed his eyes.
Magnus's breath was caught in his lungs. He wasn't able to breathe. He wanted to scream that his words were not true. That he wasn't able to control his actions. But with what his shadowhunter was saying, he felt like he was talking to his own insecurities. Tears were running down from his own eyes. He wasn't able to speak anymore.
"I loved you, Magnus. Unconditionally. But you.." he sniffed again. "I loved you when you were at your weakest, at your lowest, I loved you when you acted like a child even when you're a 500 years old warlock, I loved you even when others called you monster, I loved you when you had nothing. Then, why Magnus!? Why did you do this to me? Why did you cheat on me?"
Magnus was frozen in his place, listening to the word 'cheating' out loud was making the guilt inside him stronger, his eyes were focused on the floor, not daring to meet his husband's. Tears were flowing down his face. He gulped. He wanted to make his shadowhunter understand that he was under encanto, but he didn't know how. He felt too weak and helpless.
"It's better to die than live like this. I won't be able to live in this pain you've given me, Magnus."
His eyes shot up at that and he finally looked at his husband. His eyes and nose were red from the crying, his fists were clenched so tightly that they were bleeding. He was holding his rings in one fist and his breathing was heavy. His expressions were unreadable.
Magnus felt extremely guilty. He wasn't ready to lose his shadowhunter all over again. "A.. Alexander, p.. please... I'm... I'm sorry-"
"Shut up!" He yelled again, causing Magnus to flinch back. "Just shut up. I'm done with it. I never thought you would do this to me. I loved you, but you, Magnus. All I want to do is die right now. We're done, Magnus. I can't be here anymore. I'm leaving, and don't try to find me, Magnus Bane!" With that being said, he stepped back a few times then stormed out of the apartment, leaving Magnus completely heartbroken and shattered.
"ALEXANDER! NO, NO, NO! STOP! PLEASE!" He fell in his place and started crying uncontrollably. "Stop! Please, stop! Don't leave me, please! Forgive me! Please don't leave me! Please don't!" He kept begging to no one in particular, then after some time he fell unconscious and everything went black.
#asaab#angst with a happy ending#angst#fanfic authors#alec lightwood#fanfiction#lightwood bane family#malec forever#malec fic#fantasy#fanfic#happily married#magnus bane#malec
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Fashion
Source: Subarashiki kono Sekai | The World Ends With You
Characters: Sakuraba Neku, Kiryu "Joshua" Yoshiya
Additional tags: Autistic Sakuraba Neku, Not beta read, TWEWYTOBER, TWEWYTOBER 2020
Summary: Joshua’s hand tugs tight on Neku’s wrist as he points to wherever their destination is supposed to be through all the traffic. “Really, Neku, you need a seminar in gothic lolita,” he drawls, “It’s one of the best subcultures that’s come from here of the last decade."
Beginning notes: Addendum: This fic was first written and uploaded on October 3rd, 2020. i procrastinated so hard on this i spent far too long and got so fucking sick of it im so glad i can finish it. tomorrow is a new day and new prompt i guess, i need to learn when to quit and stop overachieving
general idea is taken from an unfinished project (and also a lot more centric on neku being autistic, hence the tag) plus punchline, but it takes so long. doesn't feel very comedic just them two being smug rude people. whatever and ever amen.
Body:
Joshua’s hand tugs tight on Neku’s wrist as he points to wherever their destination is supposed to be through all the traffic. “Really, Neku, you need a seminar in gothic lolita,” he drawls, “It’s one of the best subcultures that’s come from here of the last decade. You don’t know what your poor, uncultured heart is missing.”
“We need to do the mission?” Neku tries to hold his phone in his other hand, frantically opening and closing apps to see if he missed anything. Joshua’s pallor-pale fingers trace themselves over the lines on Neku’s palm, bare and only slightly bruised from old missions - his soft, almost conniving smile says it all as he turns around and pulls Neku so hard he almost drops his phone.
Whisking Neku away, Joshua charges into more and more people that he ghosts through. He slowly starts his lesson, almost entirely overpowered by noise (“maiden”) and music thrumming over his voice. Neku peers (“Harajuku”) up and sees the 109 tower, and if he had any (“Kansai”) blood in the UG it’d drain from his (“Nabokov”) face. Joshua takes a hook through Shibukyu (“glam rock”) walks down, down, as (“Mana”) the crowds thin away. Neku wouldn’t know why they’d head towards A-East - he couldn’t remember any concerts going on?
“... magazines graphing lolita fashion have been making their waves in the west - tell me you know FRUiTS?” Neku’s stared at the ground since the people started loosening, the texture of the asphalt and Joshua’s gait - his weird inward walk, does he need to get that checked out - that he only tunes in to the tail end of Joshua’s talk. “Earth to Neku? FRUiTS? It’s a Harajuku scene mag, ring any bells in that fashion-challenged head of yours?”
“I’m not a reader.”
“Tragic. Truly, truly tragic,” Joshua’s eyes are sunken, his fake pout wrinkled and wobbly. “Anyhoo, we’re here. You’ve been to A-East of course if you’ve been to a concert, ever - you know the Lapin Angelique store here?”
“Shiki took me here once,” Neku says, “She liked some of it but it all looked a bit,” he twists his palm, “much for me.”
“You’ve fought for your very existence here and a dress has you shaking in those velcros? Give me a break,” Joshua starts winding his hair around his finger to the very root as he steps forward through the doors. “The point of lolita is to divorce yourself from what everyone else thinks. Cute clothes like you’re rebelling against the responsibilities society wants you to take up as you’re getting older. Isn’t that appealing to you?”
Neku knows this is some appeal to emotion on clothes he isn’t keen on. He can’t stand the digs, can foretell that if he says no Joshua is going to use this against him like a hypocrite. He follows him in, into the dimly lit room that he remembered liking when he visited on his first week. He hangs uncomfortably at the door, looking around the cobweb carpet and ripped clothes.
“Over here,” Neku hears the clatter of hangers somewhere, and follows it to find Joshua rifling through jeans and shirts. “These ones don’t take a lot of guts to wear. Might be up your alley?” He lifts the ripped jeans up and hooks the hanger on Neku’s wrist.
“What are you buying?” Neku shifts his eyes, staring at petite, small Joshua on his tip-toes, twirling something around in his hands. He sees lace?
“Frilly parasol,” he opens it up, casting a dark shadow down on them. “Antique umbrella. Ribboned and laced. Gives me more fusion stars, boosts the sync rate.” He closes it with those deft, swift hands and turns it upside down, balancing his arms as he stands tip-toe again.
“It’s just an umbrella, isn’t it?” Neku asks, “I only care about the abilities, not… whatever subculture you’re obsessed with.”
“Oh, so the boy who only wears Jupiter of the Monkey is going to preach to us?” Joshua fires back.
“Shut up!” Neku’s arms cross over his dharma and he lifts out his hand not holding the jeans to count off why. “Jupiter of the Monkey is loose. They use good materials. Not very scratchy.” Neku notices his hands are slightly shaking during his staccato reasoning. “The people who work at Jupiter aren’t so confronting. The colours are good.”
“Colours? You’re just wearing purple.”
“It’s my favourite colour…” Neku drops his arms, hunches over. When he’s at this height he can’t really prevent making eye contact and when he stares back he sees Joshua’s eyes - and notices they’re not brown, they’re fucking purple. He’s got purple eyes, how did he get those? Contacts? Went out of the way to buy his contacts and then bag him for how supposedly dumb it is to wear purple. It makes Neku want to ball his hands into fists so hard his nails cut through his palms.
Little bitch.
#twewy#the world ends with you#neku sakuraba#joshua kiryu#yoshiya kiryu#03/10/2020#twewytober 2020#fanworks#writing
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Light in the Dark
Summary: This Christmas, (Y/N) wants to make it a special one.
Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Reader
Pairing: Dean x Reader
Warnings: Slight Angst/Fluff
Word Count: 1277
Episode Prompt: S3E8 “A Very Supernatural Christmas”
A/N: This is for @idreamofplaid Memories challenge and this is by far one of my favorite episodes of Supernatural. Quotes from the episode are not mine and property of Warner Brothers just FYI. GIF Source Here
Ypsilanti, Michigan - Christmas 2007
(Y/N) sat wrapping bandages around the cut on her arm. The Winchesters were currently salting and burning the pagan gods’ bodies insisting she go back to the motel. She was glad to have a moment alone to clear her mind. Being around Sam and Dean had taken a toll on her emotions.
They were standing at the entrance of Santa’s village looking around for their monster, “Yeah, but anti-Claus? Couldn’t be.” Sam chimed in.
“It’s a Christmas miracle. Hey, speaking of, we should have one this year.” Dean smiled looking over at Sam and I.
Sam turned towards him, “Have one what?”
Dean rested his arm on my shoulder, “A Christmas.”
I looked up at him, “Christmas? Really?”
Sam scoffed, “No, thanks.”
“No, we’ll get a tree, a little Boston market, just like when we were little.” Dean seemed genuinely excited at the prospect of celebrating Christmas.
“Dean, those weren’t exactly Hallmark memories for me, you know.” Sam looked off towards the redneck Santa whom parents were placing their children on his lap.
Dean's eyes followed Sam’s to watch creepy Santa, “What are you talking about? We had some great Christmases.”
(Y/N) had never really heard the boys talk about their childhood. Sometimes when Dean was three sheets to the wind he would open up a little only if he had not found a woman to run off with.
“Whose childhood are you talking about?” Sam snapped.
“Oh, come on, Sam.” Dean looked over to his brother, his olive eyes glossy holding in the feelings that threatened to fall down his cheeks.
“Sam, maybe we should…” (Y/N) began to say until Sam’s hazel eyes narrowed in on her.
“No! Just… no.” He turned his attention back on the Santa that was hobbling his way towards them.
The next few days, the brothers were bickering at one another more than normal. Any time Dean would bring up Christmas, Sam would get upset snapping at him. (Y/N) could not figure out why this was such a big deal for either of them. Their third night in the motel everything became clear.
Dean had once again brought up Christmas with Sam having enough of it, “All right. Dude… What’s going on with you?”
“What?” Dean shrugged.
“I mean, since when are you Bing Crosby all of a sudden? Why do you want Christmas so bad?” (Y/N) could tell Sam was at his wits ends and this fight could turn ugly.
Dean sat up facing his brother, “Why are you so against it? I mean, were your childhood memories that traumatic?”
Sam’s shoulders sagged slightly, “No, that has nothing to do with it.”
Dean pushed a little more, “Then what?”
“I-I mean, I-I just… I don’t get it. You haven’t talked about Christmas in years.” Sam’s fists were clenched and (Y/N) decided to move to the other side of the room.
“Well, yeah. This is my last year.” There was a slight hitch in Dean’s voice that only (Y/N) could hear.
Tears welled up in her eyes seeing the man she had fallen for looking defeated and the rage that flowed through her veins from the deal he made.
Sam paused with a small sigh, “I know. That’s why I can’t.”
“Sam…” she whispered as he looked up to her and everything she was feeling reflected in his eyes.
“What do you mean?” Dean asked looking at the both of them.
Sam averted her gaze back down to his hands, “I mean I can’t just sit around, drinking eggnog, pretending everything’s okay, when I know next Christmas you’ll be dead,” (Y/N) watched as Dean silently nodded, “I just can’t.”
(Y/N) got up fast grabbing her motel key and wallet. She was not going to have much time before the boys were back to put her plan into action. The small grocery was closing but luckily for (Y/N) the young stock boy allowed her in to grab a few things. When she returned to the room, she found Sam stringing up a Merry Christmas sign next to a little Charlie Brown tree.
“Great minds think a lot.” She said, smiling holding up her bags.
(Y/N) and Sam rushed to get everything in place just in time for Dean to walk in the door, “What’s all this?”
“What do you think it is? It’s… It’s Christmas.” Sam forced a smile across his face as (Y/N) rubbed his back for encouragement.
Dean set the beer down on the table, “What made you change your mind?”
“Here, uh… try the eggnog.” Sam handed him a small plastic cup that she has seen him pour a lot of whiskey into.
Dean’s eyes widened from the kick making her giggle as they all sat down around the small coffee table. Watching Dean look around in awe made her heart skip beats. They were all feeling the heavy weight of sadness knowing this would be their last Christmas together.
“Alright, first things first,” Dean reached under the table handing Sam a paper bag then (Y/N) a small newspaper wrapped box.
Sam chuckles, “Great minds think alike,” he handed him two newspaper wrapped items and (Y/N) a lore book with a bow wrapped around it.
She hugged Sam seeing it was the book on demons she had wanted. Sam pulled out two magazines from the paper bag laughing.
“Skin mags!” He opened the second gift, “And shaving cream!”
“You like?” Dean asked, holding his own gifts.
Sam nodded, “Yeah. Yeah.”
Dean ripped opened the two gifts from Sam, “Look at this… fuel for me and fuel for my Baby,” he revealed a bottle of oil and his favorite candy bar.
“Now my turn.” (Y/N) chimed in as she handed Sam a basket of mixed fruits and nuts.
“You know me so well, (Y/N/N).” He hugged her before getting up and placing the basket in the little kitchenette.
(Y/N) turned to Dean handing him a small envelope, “This is for you to read alone.”
He nodded, “Maybe we could open our presents together later tonight.”
(Y/N) nodded as Sam handed her a cup of eggnog with way less whiskey in it, “You guys feel like watching the game?”
“Absolutely.” Dean said settling back into his chair as (Y/N) and Sam sat on either end of the small couch.
Once Sam had fallen asleep, Dean and (Y/N) sat on the couch together each of them holding their gifts, “At the same time?”
(Y/N) nodded, swallowing the large lump in her throat. She took her time unwrapping the newspaper glancing up at Dean as he read her letter. Opening the box she found a set of keys that look familiar. As she held them up she caught Dean staring at her.
“I don’t expect you to say anything or do anything about it. I just wanted you to know.” she whispered.
Dean leaned over pressing his lips against hers taking (Y/N) by surprise. Tears slipped down her cheeks as he pulled away.
“Great minds think alike,” He picked up the keys from her hand and pulled out his own keys, “I made a set for you. I guess it’s my weird way of showing how important you are to me.”
(Y/N) placed her hand on his cheek feeling the few days' stubble scratching her palm, “I love you too, Dean.”
He pulled her up on his lap holding her tightly, “Merry Christmas sweetheart.”
“Merry Christmas Dean.” She rested her head on his shoulder watching the lights from the little tree shine across his face.
If you enjoyed this story then check out my Masterlist!
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#plaid and the memories
#plaid and the memories#dean winchester fanfiction#dean winchester fanfic#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester fluff
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The Abomination Dinner:
Today’s PRIME #350's turn to cook for the ark... this can't be good.
Magam the Thrinovan:.....
Dark the Gigagusher:.....
multi the Bavoomian:.....
PRIME the Wiralon type: PRIME hybrid:....
Magm: PRIME?
PRIME:looking at Magam Yes Magam?
Magam: with a face of concern What... am i looking at? pointing at several plates with .... lump of fruit and meats that looks like someone burned it, and melt it into an unholy goop monster that looks like it wants to scream and cease its very own existence
PRIME: its what you people call... ‘Dinner’.
Multi:THAT is our dinner!?
Magam: Prime you created several burnt monster....Things, that looks like it wants sweet release of death. How the hell did you managed to fuck this up to the point it looks like this?
Dark: Are we going to ignore the fact that looks ok and tasty to me?
Multi: yeah- Looks at Dark wait what-
Dark:-Nothing.
Multi: Stares at dark judgmentally
PRIME: listen Mag, i was given this job without any way to know how your kind cooks, so i just wing it with whole thing
Magam: that doesn't explain on how the hell you managed to created an abomination out of food!!!
Multi:slowly pushes the plate away with an uncomfortable look PRIME i am not gonna try to eat this.... sludge monster....thing.
Magam: currently putting the poor thing's life out of its misery via nuclear incineration same here.....
PRIME: come on give at least a try!
Magam and multi: N O.
Dark: Staring at the plate with the creature made of burnt food goop..... sounds of giant spider screeching and eating something whole with some horrific images on what a gigagusher mouth opening wide and swallowing the DAMN thing whole
PRIME and the other: _in shock_
Dark: gulps huh.... tasty!
Prime::wiralSmug: thank you!
Magam and Mutli:.... slowly looks towards dark for over 10 seconds
Multi: WHAT IN ACTUAL FUC-
After that incident, PRIME was banned from cooking anything, no thanks to how he managed to play god on accident. Magam and Multi were sent to therapy for over a single month and a half thanks to Dark. However, given that Dark IS the therapist, this would be much more complicated given he’s the source of their trauma...
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Absolution
Summary:
noun: formal release from guilt, obligation, or punishment
The Capital Wasteland lauded the Lone Wanderer as a hero, a Messiah, a savior who’s willing to give her life for the Good Fight. Beyond the legends, the propaganda, and the mythification that surrounded her legacy, there is only one person who knew her bare soul. She gave him his absolution, and now he will fight for hers.
Author’s notes: Finally, after months, I finally got to updating the fic! Schedule will be still irregular, but if things go according to plan the next chapter might come at around April 7. Thank you for staying tuned, please enjoy the chapter!
XXIX
January 14, 2278.
The green glow of Percy’s Pip-Boy illuminates the dark corridors of the Vault. I squinted, vaguely reading the time as two in the afternoon. She stands closer next to me. My partner does that whenever we explore vaults, and I can’t blame her.
Even I get creeped out by these damn things.
I didn’t know which was worse; the ones filled with insane clones who screamed “Gary”, or the one that filled my lungs with some kind of drug that made me and Percy trip out of our minds and almost hurt each other.
I don’t even wanna remember either. I must shift my focus on helping Percy find the GECK.
The ventilation is dead, and so is the thermostat, with the vault being in a state of decay for fuck knows how long. Some of these underground bunkers were built when I still had skin. Percy was extra cautious, and she was right to be. We faced several super mutants; Percy took care of them from a distance, while I offered additional firepower, ensuring none of those big green muties came within ten feet of her.
Reloading my shotgun, I hid behind a fallen desk as Percy fired another round from her Gauss rifle, nicking one mutant coming from my blind spot. The corner of my mouth tugs upward when I remember the first time we faced super mutants together, in the DC ruins.
I look at her now, and how she’d grown as a fighter.
Once all the muties in the area are dead, Percy sneaks over to a terminal, the glow of the monitor washing her helmet with a sickly green hue. My partner retracts her helmet, and begins typing away.
Shotgun still warm on my peeling hands, I’m alert to my surroundings as usual, though I can’t help but glance at her baffled expression, her frown frown deepening the more she reads the text on the screen.
“Shit. This isn’t science, this is sick! Charon, oh my god,” she whispers, eyes fixed on the terminal. “Some twisted scientist experimented on the vault residents to make the mutants. Vault 87 is where all the muties are coming from. They kidnap wastelanders and take them here and infect them with the FEV strain that doctor concocted.”
Expression grim, I turn to Percy. “Are you hinting that we blow this place up too, like Paradise?”
Sighing, Percy shuts the terminal off. “It’s too dangerous due to all the radiation in the area, and we don’t have the means to do it now. Maybe we can inform the Brotherhood.”
Knowing those tin cans, I roll my eyes at her. “If they decide to do something about it. They can’t even send their own men to fetch the damn GECK and they sent you.”
“My opinion of them is slowly getting worse as the days pass, that’s for sure,” Percy quips, powering down the terminal. “Fuckers have the most advanced weaponry in all of the Capital Wasteland next to the Enclave and they’re hiring a teenager and her ghoul partner as errand runners.”
At Percy’s remark, I chuckle.
“You mean the Wasteland Avenger and the Ghoul Reaper.”
“I thought you hated those nicknames,” she chuckles, the helmet of her suit protracting to cover her face once again.
“I still do, and Three Dog has no fucking problem using them, and us, to promote the Brotherhood. But those assholes don’t even respect you.”
Percy pauses, then her helmeted face turns to me. “Do you think he’s a little bit biased towards the Brotherhood?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, for starters, he preaches about how ghouls are people too, and he’s absolutely right about that, but he says nothing about the Brotherhood's bigotry against ghouls. Worse, a ghoul had been directly and indirectly helping them, and he’s still quiet.”
I rubbed my chin at her observation. “Huh. I’ve never thought of it- Percy, your six!”
She turns around, and sees the centaur approaching us, those god-awful tentacles writhing as it advanced. A few things unsettle me, seeing how I have to deal with my ugly mug whenever I look in the mirror, but those things? It makes the hairs on what little skin I have left stand.
It took two rounds to take it down, its head splitting like a rotten fruit the second time Percy shoots it. Disgusting.
Percy seems to be thinking of the same thing, recoiling and shivering. “Thanks.”
I grunt in response. “Let’s get a move on. I don’t wanna spend another minute in this damn place,” I muttered, and my partner nods.
We advance, taking care of any mutants we bump into along the way. Percy sweeps every area we go into for supplies, and terminals she can tinker with. I have a feeling that her accessing the files in this vault isn’t born out of her natural curiosity now. She’s seeking something.
A truth of some sorts.
On one particular terminal she accessed, she recoiled in horror, stumbling into me. I steady her, my large hands cupping her shoulders as she takes a sharp inhale.
“That bad?”
“Yeah,” she gasps. “Look.”
Barely making out the words, I lean over to read the text with difficulty. Thankfully, Percy spells it out for me. “These are death codes. They represent what the vault residents succumbed to. See that?”
She points at a string of text on the screen. “UD000.”
“Unexplained deaths. If I had to guess, they came up with this to cover up the fact that these people actually died due to the experiments their bastard scientists did to them. Now look at this,” Percy continues, typing away and accessing a list of the deceased. Eighty goddamn seven of those were unexplained.
A twisted feeling crawls up my spine, reminding me of the government program I was forced into.
??? ??, 2074.
Lined up, waiting for what’s about to come next, I stood beside Mag. My lanky limbs were tense, and the skin of my neck felt sickeningly tender, the collar around it making it bulge. From the corner of my eye, I look at my fellow trainees, all six of them.
Out of the hundreds of people they brought in, only the seven of us survived.
Sergeant Williams steps in the room, and all of us move in unison to salute, starched black uniforms barely creasing as we raised our arm for the gesture.
“Listen up, maggots! Out of the four hundred seventy three recruits we had for rehabilitation, only the seven of you didn’t wash out, drop dead, or ate a gun. Consider this the greatest honor, for you are now considered rehabilitated from commie propaganda,” he barks, barely concealing his Texan drawl, spittle flying everywhere.
“Consider this the greatest honor, for you are now ready to dedicate your worthless goddamn lives to the USA! You are to follow every damn command issued to you by whoever holds your contracts! You were trained for this singular purpose, are we clear?”
Our voices filled the room as we shouted “Yes sir!” in unison.
That was the day I was given my name.
The sergeant christened me as Charon, burning away whatever was left of Artyom Volkov, or so he thought.
Out of the hundreds of souls that got wasted from the Enclave’s bullshit, I somehow managed to survive, and I still intend to continue surviving. I have my partner Percy, that jackass DeLoria, and the dog now.
I pull myself back to the present as my partner shuts down the terminal, turning to the medical safe and taking whatever supplies we can get.
“C’mon. I don’t wanna linger here any more,” she whispers, a small tremble in her voice.
Following her to a corridor, the red lights glower over us almost ominously as we pass by several holding cells. The goosebumps on whatever’s left of my skin intensify. It was cold, desolate.
Until some crazy fuck lunged at us from behind a reinforced glass window and scared the living daylights out of Percy, who screams in surprise and bumps into me. Out of instinct, I catch her, and use my body to shield her.
The man continued to bang on the window as we both recovered from the damn surprise, a frown on my face as I took a closer look. The poor guy’s been driven mad from being held there. I doubt we can save him.
Of course, what happened made us look inside the rest of the holding cells.
I regret doing so immediately.
Centaurs, blobs of vaguely fucking human abominations and other unsightly shit occupied the holding cells. Percy is visibly disturbed, gagging, her helmet retracting just in case she vomits from the sights.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” she curses, sweat dripping from her brow despite the cold. “We should put them out of their misery.”
“Do you really want to deal with them right now?” I ask her as her eyes watered from the scene. “Let’s just come back for them once we retrieve the GECK,” I continue, gently placing my hand on her upper back.
Percy nods, and wordlessly forges on.
As we rounded a corner, we heard a brash voice ringing through an intercom.
“It can’t be!”
Both of us turn towards the sound. Slowly, cautiously, we creeped at the source, and we saw the unthinkable.
A super mutant is locked behind a holding cell. He’s standing next to the window, looking at my partner and I in surprise. Then, he continued talking. Not the broken speech you’d expect from a mutie, but full, actual sentences.
“Either you are quite real, or I’m going quite mad. Could you actually be a pure human?” the super mutant asks, gawking at Percy. Just to be safe, I remain at her side, still gauging if he can be trusted. “And this… is he another of the experiments, like me?” he continues, addressing my presence.
“Yes, I’m human. He is a ghoul. He’s like that because of the radiation and not an experiment, I’m afraid,” Percy replies, stepping closer to the glass to stare at him back, craning her neck to get a better view of him. What’s left of his jumpsuit are in tatters, and he loomed over the window, as big as the uglies who were dumber than him, if not even bigger. Even I had to crane my own neck upwards. This guy dwarfed me.
Damn, is this what Percy feels like when she’s with me?
“But what are you?” Percy asks.
“Me? You care who I am?” he asks, and I can almost hear Percy’s heart break at the question. He seemed like an outcast, locked away like this. I get the feeling he’s exactly on good terms with the mutants that roam the vault.
“I’m not used to pleasantries, forgive me. I’m more used to being struck around by the others,” he responds, pressing a meaty hand against the glass. Just as I thought. Guy’s an outcast.
“My name is Fawkes. I’ve lived in this cage… all my life.”
I looked at Percy and expected the sympathetic expression on her face. One look at that face and I already damn know she’s thinking of how to help him out.
“I’m Percy Zhou,” my partner introduces herself. “This is Charon.”
“A friendly mutie. Now I’ve seen everything,” I comment, and I hear Fawkes groan.
“Must you use that vulgar term?” he laments, face twisting in disdain, or disappointment, or an approximation of either seeing how the movements of his face muscles are limited. “Indeed I was born in the F.E.V. Chambers, but super mutant I am not. I prefer the term Meta Human. Suits me better, don’t you think?”
I was taken aback. I mean, damn, this guy sounds smarter than DeLoria. Hell, he sounds smarter than me. And that’s what makes him dangerous; if the dumb ones are a menace, imagine the damage a smart one can do.
“Percy, I think we should go. He might be dangerous,” I mumble, and Fawkes moves even closer to us, a shift in his tone.
“No, please! I haven’t had a single civil conversation all my life! Don’t go,” he begs, and though his voice is grating and booming like the rest of the super mutants, you can almost hear pain behind it.
“We’re not going anywhere,” Percy reassures him, pressing a small hand against the dirty window as a gesture of camaraderie. Then, she whips her head towards me, and whispers. “Charon, he’s lonely. Don’t you think he deserves even just a polite conversation?”
Grumbling, I fold my arms and nod. Percy smiles softly, and turns to Fawkes again. “Is your name really Fawkes? Like Guy Fawkes, the man who was involved in a plot to end his people’s persecution by assassinating a king?”
Fawkes seems delighted that Percy knew that tidbit of information. “Ah! You know your history as well! Yes, the name comes from a man who was willing to fight and die for what he believed in. I found it fitting, given my current circumstances. I’ve taken it from a historical entry in the computer,” he replies, gesturing to the terminal in his cell.
As they continued their conversation, I scanned for any threats that might befall us. What’s left of my ears picked up something from their chat, and my head whips towards Percy.
“I’ll get you out,” she said.
I frowned and folded my arms. “Percy, what the hell are you doing?”
“Charon, Fawkes said that the chamber holding the GECK is highly irradiated, and he can get it for us. Don’t you think it’s a good trade? He can have his freedom, and we can get what we came here for.”
“And I’m immune to radiation too. I’ll take the GECK,” I tell her, straightening my back subconsciously out of bravado. “We don’t know if he can be trusted. For all we know, the moment he gets out of his cell, he’ll attack us!”
“You’re not an errand boy, you’re my partner. That’s perfectly reasonable, but we’ve handled mutants before, Charon. If he gives any indication that he’s going to betray us, you’re free to empty your clip on him.”
This is starting to turn into an argument. I massaged my temples, frowning. “I’m not going to take that risk. I need to protect you.”
“What if he’s actually decent, and we just leave him here to rot and be tormented by the other mutants? You have your freedom now, Charon. Don’t you think he deserves his too?” Percy almost shouts, voice raised, and on her tiptoes.
Her words made me pause. Percy just had to go there, didn’t she? And it was effective too. I look at the big, green super mutant, or Meta Human, whatever he wanted to call himself, and a pang of guilt tugs at my gut.
Grumbling, I relent and nod.
This woman’s heart might be the death of her one day. Setting Fawkes free better be worth it.
#lone wanderer#female lone wanderer#charon#fallout charon#charon fallout#fallout 3 charon#charon fallout 3#fawkes#fallout fawkes#fawkes fallout#fallout 3 fawkes#fawkes fallout 3#fallout 3#fo3#charon x lone wanderer#oc: percy zhou#fanfic: absolution#series: through river acheron#fallout fanfic#writers on tumblr
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Fear of the Water - Ch. 7
AO3 LINK
Annie + Finnick Origin Story set during/after 70th Hunger Games
masterlist
(ANNIE)
It’s almost impossible to sleep. Not that I normally sleep well anyway. Still.
I have one of those dreams that’s only two minutes long but actually lasts for an hour or two in real life. Finnick’s in it. He doesn’t do anything. Doesn’t even look at me. He’s just there. And it’s nice in the dream but it’s sad when I wake up.
I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do now. Keep moving? Stay put? I unpack my things and lay them out again. I get one deep sip of water cause I have to be careful about saving it until I find a source (maybe that’s what I’ll do today) and I eat one slice of dried apple. And then I notice the dirt and the blood under my fingernails and my hands start shaking.
My mother, she butchered me . . .
Shut my eyes. Don’t want to see the blood, see the boy exploding, feel hot drops of blood splatter against my face. Take deep breaths through my mouth to keep from gagging.
It’s a long time before I feel okay again. I’m just opening my eyes when a cannon goes off. I clamp my hand over my mouth to keep from screaming.
I count the bricks in my little cave to calm down again but I keep losing my place and have to start over.
I don’t think I’ll finish counting before the sun goes down. I’ll have to wait to look for food and water tomorrow.
(FINNICK)
My patron last night bought me and Cashmere as a set; I think it’s easier to deal with when there’s another victor with you. Misery loves company, as they say. But it’s also fucking awkward. Plus, it’s ridiculously expensive to buy a night with one victor, so buying two on the same night practically never happens.
We stay in the lady’s apartment long enough to see our tributes onscreen and make sure they’re still alive before making our way back toward the training center. Shine, Cash, and Piers are sorting out supplies and making a plan of attack. Annie is nibbling at some dried fruit.
We stop off at a coffee place on the way.
“That lady was disgusting,” Cashmere says as we wait for our orders. She pulls two blackberry-flavored cigarettes and some matches out of a pocket I didn’t know she had and lights them.
“Mm,” I hum in acknowledgement. She really was gross but I don’t waste my time thinking about her and what she wanted. I never do. When it’s over, it’s over, and there’s no point in reflecting on the experience.
Cashmere hands me one of the cigarettes. “Thanks,” I say. We smoke silently for a little while, watching all the Capitol citizens walk by. Girls giggle when they see me; men wink at Cashmere. It’s nothing new. “Who’s your favorite to win?”
She taps the excess ash from her cigarette on the ground. “I like my girl’s chances. But that pretty one from District Nine is one to watch. You?”
I shrug. “Don’t know.”
This is what conversations are like the day after you see a patron together. You’re too embarrassed about everything we did to look each other in the eye but we can’t ignore each other without being crushed by the silence. Plus, we have to look fun and flirty for the people that walk by.
My awful attempt at small talk is interrupted when a female tribute gets stuck under falling bricks from a decrepit building nearby. Her lower leg breaks with a loud snap as a particularly jagged stone lands on her shin. She barely has a chance to scream before a larger rock rolls onto her stomach and starts to crush her. It takes about a minute for her to die.
“That’s thirteen gone,” Cashmere says absently. “Eleven to go.”
The Avoxes are the only ones in the common area when I get back to the training center. They’re cleaning puke up off the rug; I assume it’s Broadsea’s.
“Did I miss anything important?” I ask, nodding at the television. There’s nothing interesting going on right now, so Caesar Flickerman is interviewing a Gamemaker named Seneca Crane about the inspiration behind the arena’s design.
It’s more elaborate than usual this year: it looks like an abandoned city that nature has reclaimed. It rains perpetually, and no place is completely dry. There are a handful of high dams, but in heavy rain they overflow somewhat. There’s nowhere to swim, so Annie and Piers don’t have any advantage there.
Somes points at the chalkboard; Girl 10 has been crossed off the list. Greer makes a few gestures to let me know that both Annie and Piers are still alive.
“Thanks.”
I sit down on the shower floor like I always do and lean my head back against the wall.
My arena was a heavy forest dotted with swamps.
There was this endless chorus of crickets and cicadas – it never stopped. Not to mention all the other damn bugs that would fly right into my eye or buzz around in my ear. All the bugs bit, but some of them carried diseases. Tributes bitten by the disease-bugs got sick and a few of them died.
There were these mutts in some of the swamps – gators, I think they’re called – that would come out of the water at night and attack. One of them killed Tethys, my district partner. It took her foot first. I couldn’t get to her in time to stop the bleeding or distract the mutt before it circled back for her. It took a while for the gator to kill her, but I doubt she could feel anything except the cold, dry sensation of losing blood.
Most of the water was unsafe to drink, and a good amount of the tributes died from dehydration or infections they got from drinking the bad water. The Careers and I were sure to boil our water to kill any germs. We didn’t have to worry about whether or not someone would see our fire – no one in their right mind would attack the Career pack.
And then one day at breakfast this enormous parachute came floating down from the sky and landed in front of me. A trident.
I knew in that moment that I would survive. I could use spears and knives as well as anybody, but I grew up with a trident in my hand. I knew I had lots of sponsors – they sent medicine when I was injured, fresh bread when I was hungry, even a sliver of soap to wash myself off – but this told me just how many there really were. But a trident?! Weapons of any kind were unheard of, but this?
It took two days for my allies to turn on me. They didn’t consider me much of a threat at first, since I was only fourteen and no one under sixteen, no matter how skilled or sponsored, had ever won. I defeated them allies fairly easily; I’d been expecting an attack and I knew what their fighting styles were. It only took another two days to find the remaining tributes and kill them.
I had it easy compared to some of the others. Most of the others, actually. I considered myself lucky for the first few days after I won. Thank God I didn’t have to deal with some of the shit the others had to. It evened out in the end, more or less.
Caesar Flickerman is talking as I exit the bathroom. Something menial. “Is she counting?”
“It looks like it,” Claudius Templesmith replies. “But I’m not sure why.”
I start rifling through the clothes in my closet.
“She’s most likely in shock,” Caesar says. “It happens from time to time.”
I don’t really pay attention – why should I? – until I catch a glimpse of Annie Cresta from the corner of my eye. It’s only for a millisecond; the feed switches to more entertaining footage of the boy from District 6 climbing to the top of a massive barebones building at least eight stories high.
“Shit,” I hiss under my breath.
Tributes go into shock pretty regularly; someone cracks up at least once every other year. I’m not surprised that it happened. But it bothers me that it happened to Annie. She was a bit weird to begin with, so I shouldn’t be shocked, but it’s still unpleasant.
Shit.
Piers probably should have killed her at the bloodbath – or at the very least, let the boy from 3 finish the job. The Games have barely started and I’m already so tired; I don’t know if I have it in me to watch Annie get herself killed in some awful way.
I avoid Mags for most of the day because I just don’t want to face her right now.
I eat dinner with Blight and Gloss at a popular restaurant, which we pretty much shut down for the night because so many of my adoring fans would otherwise flood the place. They cluster outside instead; Peacekeepers have to come in to keep them all in line. I’d really rather eat alone in my room but the president likes for his victors to be seen enjoying all the pleasures that the Capitol has to offer. And I hate to admit it but the food is actually good.
Blight brings the new kid with him. Timothy Something-or-other of District 6, victor of the 69th Hunger Games. I feel obligated to make a lot of sex jokes because it’s 69 and I’m the Finnick Odair.
Timothy doesn’t talk very much, nor does he make much eye contact. Blight and Gloss start filling him in on things he doesn’t ask about – the annoying victors, the protocols for being out in public, the politicians and socialites who get handsy when they drink.
“Brutus sucks, Gaius sucks,” Blight says as he pours us each a fresh glass of wine. “They’re both from Two. Actually most of those guys are awful.”
“Broadsea and Eefa fucking suck,” I add.
“And Leetha. Leetha is the goddamn worst,” Gloss says, shaking his head.
Timothy’s voice is scratchy. “Which one is she?”
“The redheaded lady from District Five,” I answer. “Thinks she’s the smartest person in the world. Don’t ever have a conversation alone with her. You’ll try to pull your ears off.”
Timothy swallows hard. He looks twitchy and hungry and tired. Bet he’s already addicted to something – alcohol maybe, or more likely morphling, since that’s the drug of choice for his fellow victors from 6.
The rest of dinner passes without anybody saying anything interesting. I trudge back to the training center and pray Mags has gone to bed already. I just don’t want to see her.
No such luck. She’s sitting on the couch facing the television when I come in. She smiles. “I haven’t seen you all day.”
“Yeah, I’ve been busy,” I mutter. She pats the seat beside her, silently asking me to sit with her. But I don’t want to I stand by the couch with my arms crossed over my chest and my eyes pointed straight ahead.
Then she asks the question I’ve been dreading all afternoon. “Have you seen Annie?”
“Yeah.
We watch the Games in silence for a long time. There’s nothing going on this late; most of the tributes have gone to sleep. But I keep watching.
“What do you think?” Mags finally asks.
“I don’t think anything.” I try not to be snappy but it still comes out with some aggression. She must know I don’t want to talk about this. “I’m going to bed.” I give her a kiss on the cheek as I leave to show her that I’m not really mad at her. But she knows that already.
“Good night, Finnick.”
“Good night, Mags.”
I don’t have any dreams tonight.
#finnick x annie#finnick odair#finnick imagine#Annie Cresta#annie#catching fire#The Hunger Games#fanfic#fanfiction#archive of our own#ao3#story#mockingjay#katniss everdeen#haymitch abernathy#peeta#imagine#fandom#fangirl#fluff#cute#forbidden romance#secret romance#relationship#fear of the water#lover is childlike#ballad of Songbirds and Snakes#lucy gray baird#coriolanus snow#sejanus
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