mack what the fuck. /lh /nm

I hate being evil.. I chose the route I did. and I hated it.

But, I fell in love (/qp) with the man who CLASHED my morality. We hated eachother, yet. I improved. I got better.. He got less bitter.

I did it for M1's sake.. But that guilt still decides to haunt me.

I want it to go away

~ Tab (Orin Ayo: Wrong Body) #🪲💫🐾

Hey, Tab, I know you may feel guilty, but it's not your fault. Remember, you don't control what you did as your kin. Guilt may build up, but remember, you dont wish you did it now, do you? If the answer is no, then you don't have to feel guilty. You've changed.

This is my last straw I've been getting non stop asks from Smoleggon and his gang They just want to be my Catalyst by accusing me of having sex with my late brother and By being a pedophile all because I want to unite Family Guy fans. SMOLEGGON I DID NOT HAVE SEX WITH MY BROTHER AND I AM NOT A PEDOPHILE EITHER I DONT TALK TO ANYBODY OR HAVE ANY FRIENDS FOR A REASON. Everybody just wants to fuck with me and Laugh at me like I'm just some kind of fucking joke and I can't take it The only people who pretend to like me Only do it because they think it's funny when I hurt. I'm not a fucking joke I'm a Person I'm a living breathing Person with feelings and I am Effected by the things you say like when you tell me I am why my Brother died as if I don't think about that Every day and telling me I had Sex with my brother and telling me I'm a pedophile because Minors following me telling me I have to keep a tab on every single one of my followers it's so fucking stressful. SO SMOLEGGON AND HIS GANG NEEDS TO STOP SENDING ME THIS BULLSHIT TRYING TO BE MY CATALYST. I would never have sex with my brother that is Disgusting I have no interest in Anybody at all romantically or sexually EXCEPT PETER BECAUSE HE IS MY HUSBAND. SO SHUT THE FUCK UP. IM SICK OF YOU PERVERTS MAKING ME THINK ABOUT THIS DISGUSTING VILE THINGS I DON'T LIKE THIS. I DONT LIKE THIS I DONT LIKE BEING TALKED TO LIKE THIS I'M TIRED OF MY DEVIL HEART UNLOCKING BECAUSE OF DISGUSTING SHIT PEOPLE SEND INTO MY INBOX. CONSTANT DEATH THREATS FROM SMOLEGGON AND HIS GANG IN MY INBOX TELLING ME THEYLL FIND WHERE I LIVE AND HURT ME. I don't want to hurt anymore I'm so tired of my Devil's Heart. I wish I could be Normal like every body else but I'll just be Alone forever that's what connects me and Lois is nobody Understands her not even Peter the love of her life truly Understands how she feels inside and no matter how Many people she surrounds herself with she Will always be alone that's why I don't surround myself with Anybody anymore I tried with Joe and Bonnie but they were Fakers who pretended to be my friend Because they thought it was funny to make me hurt I try to keep Brian around but He never talks to me anymore I don't think he Cares about me I don't think he's faking like Bonnie and Joe but I do think he does not want to talk to me or watch cartoons like Family Guy and American Dad with me anymore even though he used to and Meg doesn't talk to me very often I'm glad when she does but we're not close she's just a Family Guy kin although I'm happy to have her around the only person who was ever close to me was Caleb and he was constantly my Catalyst just like Peter to Lois. But I miss Caleb I really do because even when he was Ignoring me I felt like I had somebody to talk to but now I'm Alone and after this slander Campaign by Smoleggon I'm scared that people will Believe these Lies they are obsessed with spreading because they're Obsessed with me. I just want to unite all Family Guy fans and I don't understand why I get this kind of hate I didn't do anything wrong no matter what Platform I go on I get hate even in real life when it was just me and Jonas I would get constant Hate from my Mom and Dad because of Family Guy they would beat me within an inch of my life because of Family Guy I would lay on my bedroom floor bleeding and crying and Jonas was the only one who was there for me and he would wash my Wounds and sing me the Family Guy theme song to calm me down I miss Jonas and I do feel like it's my fault he died because if I wasn't obsessed with Family Guy he would've moved on and we wouldn't have to Run Away to talk about Family Guy and play Family Guy outside or get sent to the Tent. Smoleggon when you send me asks about my brother and about being a horrible person it really effects me. I know you think it's funny to be my Catalyst but it Hurts. So I hope you see this post and realize I'm not that different from you and I hope you can sympathize and tell your minions to leave me alone and please Move on.

Hey! Could I request some tips for a fictionkin of Tab from the Orin Ayo Fancomic Wrong Body? It's directly on tumblr but I'll embed the link for you!

I'm also a questioning rat therian so maybe some tips for that too?

Thx in advance. ~Tab

Comic Link: https://www.tumblr.com/smilingroadkill/tagged/orin%20ayo%20wrong%20body

(BTW its perfectly fine if you deny the request! I understand!)

Hi! Thanks for the link, that helped a lot in making sure I had the right source! /g

I hope I'll do good, as I did read through it, but am not all that familiar with the character (you made me discover the comic! /pos) /g ^^

And I hope it can help!

Tab fictionkin tips (Orin Ayo Wrong Body)

Stay true to your limits and decisions. Tab is described as strict, so don't fold over anything, be decisive.

You could start a faux cult maybe if that's not triggering for you, and tailor it to the one Tab has in the comic! (a faux cult is a neoreligion structured like a cult, but not using the bite model, making it non-abusive, healthy and consensual!) It could be a fun little project and community too!

Use the same pronouns as him! (all pronouns)

You can also go by Tab online and maybe with close friends, as a nickname

Don't be shy and playfully flirt with people!

If you can, try not to fawn over small things. She's described as cold-hearted, but that doesn't mean you have to stop caring. Letting small things go without caring might already feel cold-hearted depending on you!

Give people nicknames! You can, if they're comfortable with it, only call them that too

Questioning Rat Therian

Questioning specifically

First off, when questioning a kin, don't forget it's okay if it takes a while to find answers and that having it wrong is completely okay!

Learn about rats! There's many kinds, and one might resonate more than another.

Look at their behaviors: do you do the same? would you like to?

If you're a spiritual therian, guided meditations can help with past life memories

Whether you're spiritual or not, meditation (of that's something that fits you) can be a great way to clear your thoughts and explore your inner self!

If meditation is not your speed, journaling maybe is! Journaling about your feelings about rats, how you relate to them and why, might clear things up!

Rat behaviors and tips

Rats chew a lot to keep their teeth healthy, so chew toys and other chewy snacks/things can be really great for ratkins!

Rats are rather nocturnal and pretty active fellas, so if you're full of energy at night it might relate to that nocturnal nature!

Rats have a very string sense of smell, so taking time to notice smells around you might help you feel more connected to them

If you're looking for a snack, seeds and raw fruit and veggies are crunchy and nutritious snacks that'd fit a rat(kin)

Hello!! I noticed requests were open!

Can I request some icons for a Tab (Orin Ayo: Wrong Body) kin please.

The media is a little bit on the darker side so if you aren't comfortable doing it that's fine. /gen

Link is right here -> https://www.tumblr.com/smilingroadkill/tagged/orin%20ayo%20wrong%20body Thx in advance if you do it!

~ Tab

Done, hope you like them!

Hello, I saw requests have opened again! I was curious if I could get a moodboard.

I'm a Tab kin (Specifically from the comic Orin Ayo: Wrong Body) and I would like a moodboard with themes of rodents, psychological horror themes (if comfortable), and maybe science?

Thank you in advance. 🤍

~ Tab #🐀🧬🧠

Sure thing! Thank you endlessly for your patience and your request, you may find your moodboard right here! I hope it is to your liking!

          HE COULD SMELL HER BLOOD FROM MILES AWAY, though he tended to not stray that far from her these days. Gin preferred keeping tabs on his unlikely partner in crime, tracking her idly the way a lion paced lazily behind a herd, deciding. Always deciding with her, hesitation unlike him and thus intriguing him to linger rather than lunge. This night was no different than the last few weeks, him trailing after the traces of her scent an hour or two after she vacated the vicinity, piles of ashen remains of his kin an indicator of who exactly came out victor of their skirmish -- or, he dared to start looming even closer, peering from the dark as she went about her Hunter duties of ridding filth like him from the streets. How peculiar, hearing the sly remarks, the insults, she dished out towards his kind ---- only for her to later, with him, bat her pretty eyelashes at him and flirt.

          So, she liked danger, was that it? An entirely human trait. Though, arguably, he must’ve enjoyed it to a degree too, letting her point that silver-loaded gun, that dagger, at him a few dozen times by now, daring her to pull the trigger and give him an excuse to rip her throat out with his teeth. But she didn’t. So Gin didn’t.

          A dance.

          Lesser vampires would have grown sick at the behavior, him acting docile, they would’ve twitched and clenched their jaws, gnashing at their tongues in an unrelenting hunger, an itch to dig in the moment an artery was exposed -- higher up the food chain, though, Gin’s bloodlust didn’t blind him. Perhaps that was why he was tolerating her thus far, a cat needn’t always and immediately devour a mouse in its midst. Wasn’t that right? As for her... well, humans liked drinking poisonous substances, deadly things, they liked injecting things into their bodies that caused decay and destruction. Was her flirting with him any different?

          Was her marching into a vamp nest single-handedly not, also, fueled by her kind’s insatiable need to feel a spike of adrenaline? Gin would’ve called her foolish in a heartbeat, were he not also aware that on a normal occurrence, she wouldn’t have any issue springing a nest on her own. It’s just that her tripwire never went off, and the subsequent rigging of a flashbomb spell, akin to sunlight bursting from a firework-esque device, did not light up and blast the inhabitants as she planned for it to. The swarm of rudely interrupted vampires, then, had nothing hindering them from rushing at her the moment she downed a few in her immediate path.

          Gin had witnessed many an instance in which Rangiku, an outnumbered lone Hunter, managed to make the snarling beasts look like a bunch of brainless scrawny rats, rushing at her merely to get dusted with either a flash of silver or the quick-burst casting of spells within her repertoire. A pretty thing, a deadly thing, how she could turn a warehouse filled with vamps into ashes in the air. Tonight wasn’t the case. He smelled her blood, and Gin immediately knew something went horribly wrong. The relic in his interest suddenly lost all importance, the Hunter which carried it on their person could be tracked back down and killed another time for the vamp-slaying weapon. Gin veered into a blur, unseen movements carrying him easily through town and trees alike, dipping down a muddied path and banking left towards the seaport. Another abandoned warehouse made home to this particular nest, left to their own devices in a crumbling town’s inability to properly handle the supernatural threat slumbering in the old shipyard. Rangiku was right to try and bust this place, but --

          Gin paused to sniff the air. Harder to tell where she was when he was this close ---- the scent of her blood was thicker in this air, almost suffocating, enough so that it urged sharpened claws to begin marring past previously human hands, slender fingers deforming against Gin’s will. Fresh blood. Special, sweet blood. She must’ve lost more than just a few drops. Fuck.

           To the left, third row. Gin took a guess, given the air was dead and he strayed for a moment long enough to instead hear a struggle, her distinct breaths caught on sharp ears. She was still breathing, a heartbeat to match, once the steel container entrance was ripped from its hinges. The first vampire that made a run past Gin was promptly yanked with a quick grab, then subsequently skewered via a plunging clawed fist through their chest cavity. A wet, sputtering gush, and Gin crushed its undead heart, predatory pupils sharply cutting through the ongoing chaos of a disturbed swarm in favor of finding the familiar head of hair, currently slammed against the opposing wall, surrounded ---- about to get fucking mauled, claws clutching and scraping at whatever skin they could get to, gashed forearms blocking what she couldn’t avoid, a clear ongoing struggle to keep her vitals intact.

          Okay, that was enough. Everything was a flurry, too much happening at once. It needed to stop. Fuck appearances, Gin wanted everything to stop right now.

          An outstretched hand, an oppressive air, and each vampire within the vicinity promptly dropped to the ground, pinned down by a seething black which began uncoiling akin to frothing flames, spreading rapidly from his figure -- a darkened force, unbound from body, leeched outwards to ensnare all within its path. The warehouse ceiling groaned as though weathering a hurricane, beams above shuddering, dusty windows clattering in their slots, the dark air seemingly growing abyssally darker, pitch black, a hellish black which absorbed the residual moonlight gleaming through the cracks above, through the quivering windows as they rattled -- absorbed, gone, negated, swirling darker and blacker the more concentrated it became around Gin.

          All that remained was merely the gleam of vibrant, slit-eyed, azure, pierced in that blackened hole moving in a slow pace towards the center. A demonic presence, pressuring without relent, made certain not a single finger could be lifted by the nest’s worth of grunts now helplessly planted down onto the ground. Even the ones previously clambering to claw at Rangiku were left useless at her feet, a few stray whimpers and growls. The bodies which grew too close were, like the traces of dim light in the air, absorbed into the abyss. If Rangiku listened closely enough, she could hear screaming souls swallowed up by this inhuman force.

          There were no ashes left behind, only clawed marks scraped across the cold concrete ground as they were all but dragged into that yawning mouth, disembodied, seething. This was no mere vampire engaging in a cannibalistic rage, no, this was demonic. Or close enough to it that the air filled with a thickened dread -- swallowing up the souls every grunt carried in their undead little heart, pathetic, snuffed away ----

          And that darkness receded, leaving all but the one directly in front of Rangiku. The one with bloodied claws and the one, Gin reckoned, responsible for the gash across her arm and the subsequent rips at her shoulder, another of a similar nature in depth and length across her left side. Gin prowled several paces closer, letting the poor thing sense the doom approaching, still flattened against the ground so harshly a pool of blood was oozing from a bitten tongue -- it had knocked its jaw against the ground when Gin’s aura slammed it down, most likely. Gin had more plans for this offender, though, feeling particularly wrathful, outreached hand beckoning with an invisible noose yanking around its throat, abruptly pulling him from the floor to come flying backwards into a waiting palm. Gin gripped at the nape of their neck, tightly, lifting their body upwards in that their feet dangled above the floor.

          And he clenched his claws till they dug divots into flesh, neck weeping whilst razor sharp nails plunged into both artery and windpipe, crunching harshly. The gagged sounds were music to Gin’s ears, and derailed him from taking much longer -- no, his desire to draw this out was instead cut short, heightened into a murderous excitement, thrilled to have prey dangling at his mercy and impatient ---- he drove his free hand through the spine, into the chest, and outwards at an upwards incline so that bloodied claws burst through the space just below the base of his throat, heart in tow, Rangiku could watch the way a vampire’s already vacant gaze grew the more faded, all the more dull -- light leaving those damned eyes as it looked on at her emptily, bloody mouth agape. Gin pulled his arm from the corpse, releasing his hold onto their neck with a satisfying thud of a deadweight body to his right. Discarded trash.

          Rangiku’s tripwire, delayed, finally went off with a brief bright flash of sunlit poison, but the entity before her merely stood, backlit, peering at her in curiosity that could be named concern were he not still wearing such a feral expression, those eyes sharp and inhuman. But fading, they were fading now, back into a somewhat normal gaze -- albeit intense -- fading alongside the light, her spell, which didn’t even singe a hair on his undead head.

          ❝ You alright? ❞

@dokuhai​ ran into a little trouble ‘n needed a hand. 

My Kins as “Me Things”

It is when I realized that I haven’t dropped a kinlist that I thought to make this!

Here We Go!

Kiyotaka (my highest kin)

Develops crushes on people after being given one (1) compliment because kindness gets mistaken for attraction

Was given permission to yell at the class if they got too loud when the teacher stepped out of the room in kindergarten and did a very serious job

Always thinks of pulling all-nighters, but recognizes the importance of sleep

Forever thinks about the one essay that was never started on a big exam because time ran out 

Remembers the little awkward study session with friends that was self-arranged only so that a box of treats would be presented as a reward for doing so the next day

Earned top 4 academically out of the whole class, a title that becomes a teasing joke

HAD VOLUNTARILY GONE MUTE FOR A DAY AFTER A DUMB BREAK-UP

Toko

T o o many drafts in the memo/notes app

Wrote an X Reader fanfiction as practice and dislikes that literally anything else to come after it hasn’t done as well as that fanfiction

Spelled “snack” as “snake” back in elementary and erased it to save face only after hearing the teacher laugh about it with another teacher

Forever thinks about the spelling bee where “apartment” was apparently spelled wrong when it was right thE WHOLE TIME---

Is a huge apologizer, will say sorry more often than not for anything and everything

Had crushes on fictional characters, realizing later that they were all the blue color-coded one

(Just to name a few: Sonic, Leonardo but specifically from the 2012 iteration of TMNT, Karamatsu--)

Kazuichi

Lost a best friend but didn’t believe it at first when it happened

(I really said, “haha, that’s funny” when she said she didn’t want to be friends anymore, and she just walked away meaning it wasn’t a joke, so oofies--)

Hands-on crafting f a n a t i c (Legos and paper creations especially)

Usually has good intuition when it comes to someone liking them, but brushes it off as friendliness because of self-worth issues

Will promise to do work without distractions before opening extra tabs that get distracting

Got highlights in hair, only to misunderstand instructions and jump right into the shower to wash hair right after treatment

Learned to build a specifically styled Minecraft house after watching the tutorial video once

Karamatsu

Stews in their anger unless there’s somebody around to rant to

Always dreamed of performing/receiving grand, romantic gestures despite having no confident bone in the body whatsoever

Voluntarily chose to be in the drama class to get over shyness

Gets impatient when it comes to crushes!!! Will confess if “waiting it out” takes forever

Thinks that the ability to play the acoustic guitar is the peak of coolness

Believes that everyone is destined for something great, like a wonderful blossoming relationship

(Can you tell how much it means to me that I have a romantic partner yet?)

Ichimatsu

Asked mom if she loved me and was wholly unprepared for the heartfelt talk that came with it (it was intended to be a harmless question)

Has prayed to get sick/have any general excuse to not go to important events

Was justifiably scratched by a cat and was offended by it somehow

Is quick to believe that someone has lost interest after being shown anything that could be overanalyzed as hesitance or a slow descent into disliking

Wears sweatpants frequently, feels absolutely icky in them after a while

Has become observant from all the time spent watching instead of joining conversations

Has been mistaken as a drug user and subsequently has been offered drugs (hard pass)

There will probably be more in the future as my fandom horizon broadens, but this is what we’re working with for now so :PPP

Human capital bonds II

“Seventeen goals were adopted by the 193 member states of the United Nations in 2015. The stated intention was to eliminate poverty and protect the planet. They’ve essentially set the rules for the global hedge fund game that will run on data extracted from Internet of Things (IoT) sensors. There are two parallel programs of financialization: 1) people as human capital and 2) nature: carbon, energy, stormwater, etc. I suspect folks might be surprised to find out twelve of the goals are human-centric. So, there are a dozen different opportunities where data can be used to control populations: education, employment, health and housing to name a few. Only four of the sustainability development goals are, in fact, climate and energy-focused. The final goal deals with implementation, picture public-private partnerships with social impact financiers. These goals must be seen for what they are, an apparatus crafted by vulture philanthropists to maintain flows of transnational global capital at a time when growing wealth inequality renders the purchasing power of the masses woefully inadequate. Goals 4 and 8 also play into the results-oriented “evidence-based” techno-solutions being imposed on our education and training systems. Don’t get me wrong; poverty and displacement from environmental, economic and political upheaval are, and will continue to be, an immense humanitarian catastrophe. We must commit ourselves to caring for our neighbors, the land, and our non-human kin. What we must grapple with now is how to do that from a place of justice and caring rather than data-driven opportunity engineering that is fundamentally dehumanizing, disrespects the earth, and flies in the face of community self-determination, ceding power to the cloud bosses. (...) Many people know about the kind of sensors that track pollution, storm water run-off, and air quality. Those are sort of things most people imagine technology will be used for in order to achieve “green” outcomes. What people are probably NOT prepared for is the Internet of Humans. The European Union and the Institute Electrical and Electronics Engineers are already planning that out with fair trade data markets and harmonized digital citizens. The push towards single data markets and self sovereign identity systems seems to be the logical conclusion for the GDPR privacy regulations.”

“Within the tech-no-logic system, total compliance will be demanded. Approved behavior becomes currency, tokenized on blockchain and monitored by sensors and AI. They are training us for a future where we compete with one another to see who is the best behaved, the most docile. Surviving will mean conforming to the strident terms of psychopathic financial agreements. All of your data will be added to your “permanent record” to evaluate your value as human capital for investor portfolios. The billionaires envision a future where freedom is a privilege limited to themselves, their functionaries, and the robots they control. Be assured AI is already keeping tabs, and social credit scoring is well underway. Sophisticated propaganda campaigns and strategic cooptation of grassroots movements have groomed the public to embrace this model with open arms. The trap has been set. Submit now and EVERY aspect of life, which through bioengineering can now be tweaked at the cellular level, will be controlled to profit the global elite. This is not just about surveillance and policing, it is about the wholesale domination of mind, body, and spirit through smart technologies. Biometric health passports will bring these systems to scale through ID2020. Central banks will soon bring latent human capital bond markets online.”

Alison McDowell

sources: https://wrenchinthegears.com/2019/09/22/sustainability-for-financiers-what-climate-marchers-need-to-know-about-the-un-sustainable-development-goals/ & https://wrenchinthegears.com/2020/08/07/timpsila-medicine-for-tech-no-logic/

Sins of Believing Chap 3

Gluttony 

Read on AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12510504

His hand rests between her shoulder blades, the touch so light that Jyn feels energy radiating from his fingers rather than the physical weight of the limb. She keeps her shoulders lowered and neutral. They try to crawl up towards her ears.

It is just that, Cassian touches her more, now. Not enough to catch anyone's attention, but certainly more frequently than their previous playact as strict Captain and Sergeant. Jyn attempts to relax into the simple physicality, but she only knows touch as aggression. Contact means that they found her, that they have her, that they can hold her.

The raucous noise of the mess hall does not help. Forks clatter, spoons tap, knives jolt against duraplastic plates. Every sound makes her jump further into the hand at her back. She hunches forward over her own mush, but Cassian’s hand follows her. The length of his body presses against her side. Jyn cannot escape the heat of him.

Even sex--before Cassian--was an unpassionate coupling where two people grinded against each other for a brief release. With Cassian, Jyn still has to steal private moments. She grabs him by the back of his jacket and yanks him into an empty hanger, or sends him urgent messages so he rushes to their room. Then he spans her ribs with his palms, his breath hot and damp against her neck, his stomach rigid as he moves under her. Touch is a critical piece of their tactile vocabulary, yea, but Jyn wants to keep his touches for herself. Cassian loudly proclaims them with his small, possessive gestures while she fights to keep something out of the Rebellion's grasp.

She still shares his quarters, though. Jyn still lists him as her next of kin. Their relationship is so tied into the Rebellion that distance cannot exist. It does not stop her wanting.

They separate as they leave the mess hall. Cassian turns one way, Jyn another. His hand lowers and lingers at the small of her back, still too faint to truly feel. He has a meeting with some fancy named officer she has not bothered to memorize. She has to teach the fresh-off-the-ships how to not die. It is just another too-quick moment between responsibilities that she accepted but never asked for. Reconciling their time together and apart gives her a headache. The Rebellion controls that too.

Jyn punches her need into her current recruit. The private dodges well, but drops her hands as she weaves. Jyn flows through the movement. Her hips twist for added power. She slams her fist into the private's cheek and the woman drops to the ground in a heap. The other recruits eye each other. It has been at least a month since Sergeant Erso laid someone out so fully. The last time was when Bodhi Rook was MIA after the destruction of the Death Star.

"M'am?" A private asks. All of the recruits line up against the wall, waiting for their turn to spar with the Sergeant. Each of them have damp spots of sweat on their new uniforms. She has run them through their paces before kicking the bantha shit out of them. Not unusual, but certainly not following the protocol that has been instilled into them since landing on Hoth.

Jyn grunts an encouragement for the private to continue. She does not turn towards him or help up the recruit she knocked out. Her fingers waggle to release the tension of her fist.

"Ma’am, maybe we could--" Another bead of sweat runs down Private Prashik’s face.

"Sergeant Erso, your presence is requested," K2 interrupts. Jyn's trainees exhale with relief for the interruption. Jyn turns on her heel to meet Kay's dark blue lenses. The droid stands straight and firm before the open training room door. It makes conscious the effort to stand apart from the new recruits.

"By who?" She demands.

"Captain Andor," K2 says. It and Jyn stare each other down. The recruits go back to holding their breath.

"Tell him I'll be there in an hour," she says.

"He says it is urgent."

Jyn eyes the droid for another moment. She could take it in its new body. K2--K4-PN if she wants to be specific (but it is more bothered when she is not)--no longer stands at seven feet with an impenetrable chassis. It currently resides in a smaller protocol droid, made for diplomacy over warfare. Yea, Jyn could definitely rip out a few wires before it dragged her to Cassian.

Kay balances its weight more firmly into the ground. A few quick calculations and it assures itself of Jyn Erso's three most common engagement moves and their statistically successful rebuttals. Jyn takes a step towards it. Then another. One more step, her jaw tense, and then she walks straight past K2 with only a mock jab at its metallic arm. K2 swerves too hard for the light tab and almost falls, optical-sensor side down, as he hustles to follow her. Laughter and relieved chatter from the recruits reverberates against the durasteel door as it slides closed behind them.

"That display was not necessary," Kay scolds from her side. It may not be a giant any more, but its stride is still long enough to make up any head start she may have. The added length lets it cock its head as if curious, and still catch her eye. "Did you engage in such an activity to prove your dominance to the other organics?" It asks.

"Nope," Jyn sing-songs. "That was just an added benefit."

"Then the primary objective was to irritate me?" Kay queries.

"Isn't it always?" Jyn goads. Kay's new hardware rattles and clanks in a cadence similar to Cassian's amused sigh. It then speeds up its pace in retaliation. The droid quickly directs her down one corridor after another, its arm outstretched with beleaguered patience. Jyn could jog to keep up, but she prefers to stroll a few feet behind Kay and cause it to approximate a sigh again.

After the third turn, Jyn recognizes the blank durasteel of command quarters. Unlike the areas occupied by the lower ranking rebels, command has no flyers or pictures or color. The hallways are cleaned to a spit shine and the only wall adornment is the first initial and family name or affiliation of each officer. Kay leads her into the bare quarters that serve as Intelligence's meeting room. Only a thick, too wide table and two chairs fill the space. Intelligence does not even bother with a holoscreen. All communication is to be passed by flimsi and then destroyed. Jyn has had a few warm nights on Hoth burning Cassian's latest brief.

"I thought he had a Council meeting," she says. Kay pulls out a chair for her, though Jyn refuses to sit.

"He does." Its lenses flash bright blue with the response. A surprising tell for the droid, one that informs Jyn instantly.

"Cassian told you to come get me."  

"The direct order was to, and I quote: 'keep you from breaking any new soldiers.' Apparently, it is due to your recent foul mood. I have analyzed your latest social interactions and do not see the difference he seems to find."

Jyn slams her fist on the conference table. K2 does not react. It is too similar to how Cassian handles her outbursts.

"He doesn’t get to tell me how to train my recruits!" She says.

"Captain Andor is your commanding officer," Kay taunts, though its tone stays level.

"We'll see about that." Jyn cracks her knuckles sharply. K2 steps easily in front of the singular door. They evaluate each other, and this time Jyn has a hand on the blaster at her thigh.

"I would not recommend this path of action, Jyn Erso." Kay is just egging her on now.  

Jyn sneers. Her upper lip curls back from her teeth with a barely contained snarl. She will not be told what to do. With a flick of her wrist, Jyn draws her blaster and fires. Kay defends its function operations with its arms crossed in a wide x over its mainframe. No bolt comes. K2 lowers its arms and mocks, "You have missed."

There is nothing but empty space in front of Kay. Its aural sensors pick up the clank of Jyn's boots in the hallway, and its olfactory sensors receive chemical compounds that register as smoke from the damaged control panel next to the door it guards.  

Jyn walks swiftly through the corridors. Turning, turning, turning through the soft memory she has of the base. She did not bother to memorize the layout. They had not expected to be on Hoth so long.

She reaches the farthest ship terminal. A softly hummed song leads her past one x-wing after another until she finds the source of the music. Black Imperial boots wiggle in rhythm as he sings. He has wedged himself sideways so that his toes and the top of his head peek out on either side of the dilapidated ship. Grease smears across Bodhi's goggles and the ends of his newly shorn hair. Jyn can no longer pull him out from under a ship by the silk of his ponytail.

Everything changes like that.

Jyn enjoys the calm before kneeling carefully to where she knows he has his face jammed into a hyperdrive. She flicks his ear. His toes wave in greeting.

"Bodhi," she says. "I need the ship."

He pops out from underneath the hull. Behind the oil stains and the lenses, excitement mixes with apprehension.

"We have a mission?" He asks.

"No," Jyn answers hard and cold. Bodhi only tilts his head. His goggles slip down past his right eye. Jyn recognizes the question in the slant, but she does not have to answer.

"Are you leaving?" Bodhi tries again.

She had considered it. Running is the only familiar action; but Jyn cannot disappear anymore. There are people she loves and who she will not leave--not completely.

"No," Jyn says again.

Bodhi studies the angry press of her lips. The expression she once wore on Jedha looks wrong on the post-Scarif Jyn. Her mouth does not form righteous selfishness in the same way. She can no longer pretend to afford the luxury of apathy, though she still tries. The only tell is the quiver that lurks in her chin.

So Bodhi leaves the rest of his questions because he cannot stand to see her cry. If Jyn says she is not leaving, then she is escaping. He remembers the claustrophobia of responsibility and commitment, and a promise made to the only man he could trust. Jyn has never known that kind of security. Bodhi will not begrudge her the freedom to find it.

"Do you want me to come?" He swears to himself that it is his last question.

"Yes," Jyn laughs. The sound hollows in the middle. Bodhi gets that too. She claps her hand on his shoulder, a bland goodbye that he does not accept. Bodhi shimmies out completely from under the ship and pulls them both to standing. He throws his arms around her waist. Bodhi inhales cold sweat and fear, strength and sterility of the sonic 'fresher from the crook of her neck. He promises himself that he will not forget how she smells. A small detail that only few are privileged to know.

"I'm going to miss you," he says into her jacket collar. Cassian's jacket collar, actually. For a split second, Bodhi worries about his captain. The moment passes as Jyn releases him. She busses a soft peck and a quiet, "Me too," against Bodhi's cheek.

He steps back and watches as Jyn vaults into the x wing's open cockpit. At least she takes one of the ships he has worked on himself. It will definitely get her wherever she needs to go.

Repulsor engines warm the cold Hoth hangar. Bodhi stays as the roof opens, as Jyn poorly pilots out, as the ship disappears.

Cassian only receives a message on his datapad. It reads:

      I don't belong to you.  

Sometimes I forget I'm not some weird, (semi)immortal scientist conducting experiments on dead people and that I actually have school again and responsibilities.

like wdym I can't be an evil rat anymore????

wdym I 'have' school???????

Chapter 5 - I Liked Killing so Much, I Decided to do it Again

Roger woke the next morning, Memorial Day Monday, and felt the repercussions of sleeping in a Barcalounger. He couldn't move his head up and down without a pain severe enough to convince him to stay still and allow it to subside.

This made for an interesting morning of drinking coffee without tilting his head back. Roger swallowed a couple of Excedrin by sucking them through a narrow slit between his upper and lower teeth. He followed that action by inhaling some coffee. He moved out of the kitchen. The pain got his attention again when he sat down in the now upright Barcalounger to read his news feeds. The reborn headache and neck ache also reminded him of what he saw on Google Earth the night before.

On nytimes.com in the local tab.

Body Discovered on Theater Alley

Roger couldn’t tilt his head enough to read the article. He put the laptop down on top of one of the boxes in the living room. He held his head perfectly still as he got out of the chair. He walked into the bathroom; leaned over a single small box marked ‘Meds,’ and with a grunt tore open the flaps on top. Roger looked in. His eyes were drawn to a white and blue bottle, which advertised ‘Ibuprofen.’

"Might as well complete the cocktail,” he said.

He continued his ‘Frankenstein’ walk to the kitchen where he located an opened bottle of bourbon. He slugged down three capsules with a full swallow of the alcohol.

“Aaaaaaah,” he exhaled, which hurt his neck. “Old Kentucky, best muscle relaxer on the planet.”

He leaned against the counter and set the kitchen timer for ten minutes. When the alarm sounded, he walked a little more fluidly back to the Barcalounger.  Roger picked up the laptop and forced his head down to read the article.

Body Discovered on Theater Alley

The body of a young woman was discovered by the NYPD early this morning. The police came across it during standard patrol.

The young woman, whose identity is being withheld pending notification of next of kin, had been stabbed multiple times.

Anyone with any information should contact the NYPD immediately.

“I did contact you, NYPD,” said Roger. “I did.”

Roger reached behind his head and massaged his neck. After two minutes he felt much better, at least physically.  

“But what do I do now, besides talking to myself, which is a sign of insanity? I have no evidence of the Google Earth image. It wasn’t clear enough to give the police a description.”

He heads back to the kitchen for another drink. He lifted the bottle of bourbon off the counter and unscrewed the cap. Roger brought the opening to his lips.

“It’s a National Holiday and my Wedding Anniversary. Cheers!”

***

Roger returned to work on Tuesday. The week passed without incident, as did the entire month of June. The divorce, or at the least the possibility of it, and his job occupied him as the murder, and his conversations with the police, faded.

Chapter 6 – Victim #2 Annie Chapman, 9/8/1888

The Autopsy Report on Jack the Ripper’s Second Victim, Annie Chapman:

The throat was dissevered deeply with a very sharp knife with a thin narrow blade, and must have been at least 6 in. to 8 in. in length, as such an instrument as a medical man used. The incisions into the skin indicated that they had been made from the left side of the neck. There are indications of anatomical knowledge. There was no evidence of a struggle taken place. A handkerchief was round the throat tied, but cut when the incisions made.

He noticed a protrusion of the tongue. There was a bruise over the right temple, on the upper eyelid there and on the forepart of the top of the chest perhaps delivered by a blow. However, the bruises on the face are recent, especially about the chin and side of the jaw. Therefore the person who cut the deceased throat took hold of her by the chin, and then commenced the incision from left to right.

There were two distinct clean cuts on the left side of the spine. They were parallel with each other and separated by about half an inch. The muscular structures appeared as though an attempt had made to separate the bones of the neck.

The abdomen had been entirely laid open: the intestines, severed from their mesenteric attachments, had been lifted out of the body and placed on the shoulder of the corpse. From the pelvis, the uterus and its appendages with the upper portion of the vagina and the posterior two thirds of the bladder, had been entirely removed. No trace of these parts could be found and the incisions were cleanly cut, avoiding the rectum, and dividing the vagina low enough to avoid injury to the cervix uteri. Obviously the work was that of an expert -- of one, at least, who had such knowledge of anatomical or pathological examinations as to be enabled to secure the pelvic organs with one sweep of the knife.

The appearance of the cuts confirmed that the instrument, like the one which divided the neck, had been of a very sharp character. The mode in which the knife had been used seemed to indicate great anatomical knowledge.

Chapter 6A – Victim #2 Nickie Walsh, Independence Day

Ruben disliked this murder site. He disliked it a lot. It gave very little cover. The place where the thing is supposed to happen is too open. He did not like this at all.

At least when he first saw it.

Now, here early in the morning of July 4th, he liked it. It looked different from just a week ago. Yes. A week ago, there were people all over the place and nowhere to hide. A week ago there were bright lights and cars and other traffic and those pesky kids with their Ubers and stuff.But there would be one less of them soon.

Yes soon.

And now the place had big orange barriers to hide behind, and scaffolding with its opaque blue plastic cover which ran along one side of Maiden Lane, and all the way up to the weird statue where the thing would happen. There were rows and rows of police barricades and metal dividers that looked like bike racks.

The place had very little room for anything or anybody else, and the weird statue, well, that just looked darker than ever. He needed that right person to come along and walk the wrong way.

****

Nickie Walsh, a beautiful bottle-blond intern at Goldman-Sachs in her first summer between semesters at Georgetown, walked down Maiden Lane. She had fallen asleep on the 2 train and ended up in Brooklyn after missing the last stop in Manhattan.

She waited an hour on an empty platform for another train to take her back into Manhattan. She shot out of the train when it stopped at Wall Street and flew up Pine Street to get to the apartment she shared with three other interns. It sat at the intersection of William and Platt Streets.

She turned the wrong way on Pine Street, walking east as opposed to west. She stood at Pearl Street and screamed; stopped; composed herself and ran back up Pearl to Maiden Lane, which would save her a quarter of a block once she got to William.

She hustled down Maiden Lane in the direction of William. She approached the point where Maiden forked. Liberty to the left and Maiden continued to the right.

“No more wrong turns,” she said.

The steel chisel crashed against her right cheek and orbit bone. She went down in a broken and bloody heap.

Once more the hand reached into the jacket pocket.

Sever the throat deeply with a very sharp knife with a thin narrow blade. It must have been at least 6 in. to 8 in. in length. Use the medical saw if you have to.

And the instructions continued.

i will be the fall

Confusion cluttered his ears like an Infestation, and with every step he felt he was either lost, or coming close to something big. Back, what seemed like eons ago, but was perhaps just a week, Kaleb had first, really felt, just how "other" he was from the rest of the group.

He remembered their interrogation, knowing that he mixed up his words more often than most, so that their meaning became increasingly unclear, so settled for being an imposing body with a Mankey wrapped up in his Thorn Whip. They questioned the bandit, and he pulled the strings to emphasise the threats Cactus made, working with the Sandshrew in the only way he really knew how. When they had finished, the Mankey a bumbling mess in the vines' embrace, they started to argue. The argument itself was fuzzy, and unclear, and his nose screwed up at suggestions to let the pig-goblin run free, but the gist of it was; "How do we dispose of him?" Well, Kaleb didn't see what the cause of debate was there: the Mankey was one who destroyed lives, and trees sacred to the Gods, and the First World, he should die on the spot. But he hadn't spoke. The curl of his lip bared teeth, longer than the City Eevee these town-livers knew of, and the barely healed scars across his eye crinkled with the furrowing of his brow. Why did the Nidoran defend the monster? Why could Sassafras not see what was right in front of her eyes? Why did Cactus, with all his words, woven along the fine line between truth, and lie, not find the right ones for the situation? Nina was silent. The Dryad was distressed. The Mankey bawled. With a swift movement, he settled the argument at the peak of it's volume, and took an arrow from his quiver. "It is done." He had said, and the vines unravelled to the pig-monkey falling face-flat on the floor. Kaleb cleaned the arrow, and placed it with the others. This act of decisiveness was the thing that earned him the lingering confusion, like flies around a walking corpse; their looks of utter horror bothered him. "Why did you do that?!" A chorus of voices chimed at him. Kaleb remembered his blood turning cold, and his expression followed. "You were discussing how to dispose of him. I took the initiative." Was his simple response, and the small party, unsure as they was disturbed, mumbled away, shooting looks at him when they thought he couldn't see. Very well, Kaleb thought, his paws gripping tight on his staff, I'll be your scapegoat; I'll take the tough calls, as long as it makes you feel better about yourselves. I can play "scary wild man". Easy. Everything about these people was so alien to him, and he did not understand why killing the Mankey was a bad thing - it was what they had been planning to do, all along... wasn't it? Tenzekil too... pardon the pun, but were they not out to kill him, too? From the start they were working to find and "deal" with Tenzekil, for he had attempted a hit on the life of the Earl's son (an important person, apparently, but Kaleb didn't exactly see why... but his partner in love was a very good sport), disrupted a congregational celebration to which many may have been hurt, and disrupted the nature of the land itself by allying himself with this Rhoswin character. Kaleb half expected her to jump out from a rock wherever they walked from the mismatched stories they heard about her. Tenzekil's army defiled trees sacred to the Gods and the first world, killing and burning dryad after dryad, until all but one's sisters had gone. The trees seemed to be inflicted with the same sickness that the Bulbasaur carried - but that was when the buzzing started, the confusion, clouding his head like walking into a gnat-storm. Apparently Kaleb was by now desensitised to the whole thing, because frown lines were settling in for a comfortable ride. "You'll never find them." Kaleb had scoffed when Cactus asked if he wanted to send a message, like he had with every stranger they had met on this journey. After, he regretted not putting his pride aside to ask Sassafras to write a note for him, telling them his progress and to watch the borders closely, and that he was travelling to the First World - everything the planar guardians should know. He did not want these City Slickers to know he couldn't write Common, and later, in the First World, he regretted those words like a knife in the gut. He was constantly on guard for anything that might be following them, lest they stumbled on a hidden  army, or that theory of Rhoswin hiding under a rock, and following into the Fell Night Realm was no different. They were in enemy territory - but still, Sassafras felt the need to implant a semi permanent flower to the arch they came through; one bright star in the black landscape. Though his expression seemed permanently grim, he still lived in that gnat storm. There was no way to tell direction, save the Pidgey's natural compass for North, and the landscape was as alien as the group he travelled with. Kaleb knew he was lost, but he was far too proud to admit it out loud. Still, his senses were sharp, and he noticed the trap as soon as his eyes laid on the shadow, and his bolt planted skilfully in front of it's feet. It was foolish to trust these monsters, but for some buzzing, annoying, gut feeling reason, he trusted Cactus' words - and he trusted his weapons. The naivety Sassafras displayed in front of these creatures perhaps helped out the play, but it frustrated Kaleb to no end. He sought comfort at the back of the group, with Nina. He trusted in Nina's fire, and she had watched him sprint to keep pace with three unicorns for half an hour solid - somehow, Kaleb felt that that was an activity you couldn't help but "bond" over, even if its just for the purely bizarre experience that it was. He wanted to ask her opinion of the trip, of their goal, and why she chimed in with Sassafras over not killing the Bulbasaur, with Tenzekil being rather the antagonist in her life as they knew it; but he could not form the words. He must have still been feeling fuzzy, because the mould situation was something else entirely. Suddenly he forgot all his training, and everything was so.... wrong here. Wrong like the shadow following that no one else could see. He remembered gripping the handle of his crossbow, waiting for the inevitable trap to be sprung. He told Nina about the one following, but he told Cactus everything he could without others listening in. He dared not tell Sassafras a thing, lest she blundered into conversation about it. He still didn't believe the goblin about that dark entity they fought. ...Maybe he didn't want to believe. "What will you do with Tenzekil?" The Fairies had asked, the first-worlders asked, the second-worlders asked. "We plan to dispose of him." "We plan to talk to him!" "We plan to take him out of the Fell Night Realm, and help him with his sickness." "We plan to kill him." Cactus had given him a strange, eyeballing look. Kaleb was confused. This is what they had signed up for, after all? Well maybe not Sass, but Tenzekil had also attacked her at the waterfalls... What was the point in covering it up with pretty words? Nevertheless, Cactus and his silver tongue came in to assure Sassafras and Nina that they would try talking to him first. Oh how Kaleb would "try". He had just wanted the arrow, he assured himself as he mended Cactus' hat, as he pieced together what the Sandshrew was not telling them, and plopped it back on his head. He only just managed to mask his own, satisfied smile as the Sandshrew beamed at him. He just wanted the arrow. The wild shape flickered through his muscles as he morphed into a lean canine, familiar in markings to the dead and shrivelled Aspen that corroded beneath one of Devarre's traps, but bigger, meaner, faster. He felt fire in his gut and lunged for the leg of the assailant, unflinching to the sap and gore that trickled down his maw and neck. He felt flame flicker behind his teeth, ready to set this lech alight, but he disappeared. Each time he got the Bulbasaur, his plan to douse him in fire failed, and he scrambled out of the way just in time to be spared from the firey mouth of the Wild Growlithe. It came to Kaleb's mind, that in that moment, he could have morphed into something badder, bigger, if he chose the path of the Druid. He new a few paltry Druid spells, and like the rest of his clan, fluid in basic Wild Shape. But, there were others, like his mother, like the Queen, who chose to study the Circle of The Moon, and could turn into huge, simply monstrous things, and still ignite spells at their paw tips enough to split craters in the mountain side. Then there were the Rangers who walked the planes, keeping tabs on the gates and making sure that minimal traffic came through. As of now, he was just a warrior. A warrior who taught skills to the current Princess, but still, a warrior. His maw gnashed at the multiple Bulbasaur, grabbing the real one by a hair's width, so that his form shook into the kaleidoscope that was the old man's spell. The Princess... Caught up in this matter of the planes, of the Fey and of the mortal world, he had forgotten his quest. The Growlithe's eyes rolled as his teeth sank into more sap infused flesh, doggedly pursuing the man. This old, decrepit soul was a drop in the river next to finding his kin. He would do whatever needed to be done, go wherever he needed to go... and be... be whoever this group needed him to be to find his Princess. Whether that person be Judge, Jury, or Executioner. He saw Cactus stumble in the brambles next to him, and immediately, he shot up. Brambles raked across his Growlithe form, opening up old wounds and nicking the cut across his eye, forcing him out of form before he landed nimbly on three points, just outside the ring of thorns, back to his Eevee self. The healing scars across his eye were still bleeding, but he was relatively unharmed, for the wild shape took most of the damage. He did not look at Nina, though he could feel her heat; nor Sassafras, though he heard her song; or Cactus, extracting himself from the Wall Of Thorns; but simply drew the staff from his back, a grim expression latching the edge of his maw, eyes cold as he calculated what needed to be done. He would take the blow for the others... free them from the monstrous responsibility they were facing. He cast Thunderwave. He remembered the decisive stamp of the staff against the floor, the force resonating like a thundercrack from his unflinching body, waiting for the noise, or lack thereof, to tell him he had succeeded. Sure enough, through the hole, the body of the Bulbasaur man was strewn, crucified, across his own Wall Of Thorns, hitting Kaleb with a gritted smile of grim satisfaction. The women of the group, strong, bold, and bardic warriors that they were, were not the ones to make the finishing blow, which filled Kaleb with relief. They had wanted to talk the Bulbasaur down, which was the only reason he wished for either himself or Cactus to make it - he had a feeling that the Sandshrew was hiding secrets of his own, that he had done similar types of jobs before. Like Kaleb, Cactus knew what needed to be done. Maybe Sassafras and Nina knew in their hearts there was nothing they could do - but they were still filled that that.... hope, that optimism. The realist in Kaleb reeled, sending that gnat storm running rampant in his ears again... But, he was glad. As unattached as he was to this group, the feeling that any one of them felt responsible for the old man's demise sat on Kaleb like...  well, a Wall Of Thorns. It made him uncomfortable to see them look sadly on at Tenzekil's body, but it was sure as the Torn World better than how this scene would have sat if either of them were the ones to end it. Kaleb chose to leave the thing Cactus was hiding for a later discussion, his focus on Nina as her paws began to spark. Something in his gut urged to comfort her, but he did not know how to, and was loathe to ask, so he kept his face stony as Tenzekil's body turned to ash. Sassafras saved any awkward words that got stuck around his jowls, filling the air with music, and Nina joined her. It was poignant in a way that Kaleb did not understand. At least, he thought, they seem somewhat at peace. May the Gods watch your path over the Astral Sea, Tenzekil, and may they give you the chance they think you deserve. Kaleb scooped up the ashes of Tenzekil into a vial, leaving no trace behind, as the Fey King bequeathed of them.

All American Road Trip

Chapter One: Get out the Map | Chapter Two: (A Very Little) Leg Room | Chapter Three: (You’re) Gonna Sing the Words Wrong

Chapter Four: You Make Me Live

Ooh you’re the best friend that I ever had I’ve been with you such a long time You’re my sunshine and I want you to know That my feelings are true I really love you Oh you’re my best friend Ooh you make me live

–You’re My Best Friend, Queen 

As appalling as it was to depend on Tony Stark – sometimes it seemed to Steve that he’d spent all his post-transformative time being financially dependant on, and therefore in some obscure manner, owned by, the Stark family, and believe you me, Steve resented it – Steve was glad enough for the shiny credit cards that Stark Industries provided.

Steve had gotten used to either snacking regularly around the Tower or just ignoring his hunger. It wasn’t like he hadn’t spent most of his growing-up years in some constant state of not having enough to eat. (the only time in his childhood he hadn’t been hungry was because he was too sick to notice)

But when Sam had pointed out that Bucky was hungry, that was an entirely different story.

And Bucky had been sharing the snacks with Steve. Which almost made it worse; that somehow, over thirty years and nine decades and however many hours there were, Bucky was still fucking looking after Steve, like Steve was a sweet, but ultimately stupid dog that couldn’t look after itself.

The more galling part of that was that it might possibly have been true.

They’d entered the all-you-could-eat diner and Steve hadn’t hesitated. “Seven, please,” he’d told the hostess, who looked at the three of them with wide, wondering eyes. “Believe me, you’ll want to charge us that way.”

Bucky ate like a man used to starving, quietly, efficiently. He didn’t talk. He chased every few bites with a dinner roll, using the spongy surface to clear every drop of gravy and grease from the plate.

He didn’t waste a calorie, either. While high in calories and fat, what Bucky chose from the various stations around the diner were balanced. High nutrient fruits – strawberries, bananas, melon slices, more strawberries – and vegetables. Lots of protein. Bucky was thoroughly practical; right up until he discovered chocolate milk.

Steve wasn’t sure if Bucky had been eating right for months; two years on the run after Insight Day and he still didn’t talk about that. But he certainly wasn’t eating for flavor. At the Tower, at the Wakanda compound, Bucky ate what was put in front of him. He never commented on the flavor or gave any indication that he preferred a thing. Even Steve, who tended to eat peanut butter out a jar with a spoon, had some favorites.

Bucky had been drinking regular milk up until that point; an older woman (by the calendar still probably younger than Bucky, but only by ten years or so) was fiddling with the heavy lift to pour just a little milk into her cup of tea. Bucky started a conversation with her, low and soft and polite, and she probably had something wrong with her eyesight, because the woman didn’t look at him and jump backward – a reaction that many people seemed to have. He leaned against the machine, put his cup under the other tap, and showed her how it worked, filling his own glass with chocolate milk. She managed to get a few drips into her tea cup. Bucky smiled at her, gave a little bow, just tilting his upper body in her direction. Smiled at something she said.

Came back to the table.

Frowned at the cup of brown milk, then shrugged and took a sip.

Drained the glass so quickly Steve thought he was pouring it down his throat.

[more under the cut, or read the whole thing at A03 ]

“Your boy’s got a sweet tooth,” Sam commented as Bucky got back up to refill his glass.

Steve gave Sam a sharp look. “He’s not my boy,” Steve said.

There weren’t words for the dubious expression that crossed Sam’s face. “I ain’t judging, man,” he said. “But that is your boy, don’t have any doubts on that.”

“Maybe once,” Steve said. He couldn’t help the way his stomach twisted, his hands clenched, or he had to swallow down the knot in his throat. Back when he and Bucky were sneaking around to find a quiet spot, loving each other in silence, you did not talk about it. Not unless you were a hundred and ten percent certain the other person was also temperamental. And even then, you were still risking it. Some men had been known to turn in their fellows, in order to divert suspicion. Steve knew it was different now, knew that. But he still had an old, instinctive reaction. His nerves were telling him shut up, shut up, shut up. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. “He’s my best friend.”

“He’s your best something, is what he is,” Sam said. “Man broke through seventy years of conditioning, for you. You best treat him right.”

Steve scowled.

“I ain’t sayin’ you’re treating him badly,” Sam said, spreading his hands. He twitched his head in the direction of Bucky, who was on his third refill of chocolate milk, being almost unable to stop sampling long enough to return to the table. “I’m saying pay attention, man.”

Steve watched as Bucky finally came back to the table, the way his legs moved, the sway of his hips, the powerful arms, the thousand-yard stare.

“Believe me, I’m paying attention,” Steve said. He almost wished he could ignore Bucky, just a little bit. It might have been better for his peace of mind.

And I’m a tail fin road locomotive From the days of cheap gasoline For sale on the side of the road goin’ nowhere A rusty old American dream This car needs a young man to own him One who will polish the chrome I’ll give you the rest of my lifetime Just don’t let me die here alone –Rusty Old American Dream, Pat Green 

All jokes aside, the backseat was tiny. Sam didn’t blame Barnes for spreading out, or for the very minimal bitching the man had managed to work himself up to doing. In fact, Sam might have thought the bitching was doing Barnes some good. He doubted Hydra let the man complain.

But Sam had a sister and a cousin who lived with them more often than not, and grandparents that lived four states away. He wouldn’t say he was happy with long car rides, but he knew how to handle them. He climbed into the back seat, the new bags of snacks tucked in the driver’s side footwell, cranked the passenger side window down, and laid over on the back seat, legs bent and the heels of his sneakers resting against the sill.

“Seriously, Sam?” Steve eyed him from the driver’s seat, using the mirror expressively.

Sam flicked him the bird. “Shut up, man, I’m comfy.” He wasn’t, really, entirely. It’d been several years since the last time he was smashed in the back seat, but he’d also been in the Air Force, sleeping in uncomfortable spots was one of his talents.

“If I wreck, you’re gonna get your legs cut off at the knee,” Steve pointed out.

“So don’t wreck, Captain Safe Driver,” Sam retorted. “Now, hush your mouth and let your boy read.”

Barnes coughed uncertainly. “I can read while you talk,” he said.

“Nah, man, read to us,” Sam suggested. “Ain’t that what people used to do, back in your day, for entertainment.”

“Believe it or not, Sam, we actually had moving pictures back in our day,” Steve said. Sam couldn’t see his expression, but his voice sounded like he was scowling.

“Black and white,” Barnes said. “Silent, with title placards. Remember sneakin’ in a few times. But yeah, I… used to read to you a lot, remember, Stevie? When you were sick, I’d sit next t’you and read, just tons. Used to walk ‘n the gutters sometimes, look for pennies, save ‘em up to get a dime novel at the drugstore.”

“I remember you reading Ellery Queen,” Steve said, his voice soft. “The Greek Coffin.”

“Yeah, y’ little sneak,” Barnes said, laughter in his voice. “You waited ‘til I fell asleep and snuck a peek at the challenge page.”

“You wouldn’t have caught me, if you hadn’t done the exact same thing,” Steve pointed out.

“True,” Barnes admitted.

“Shame on you, Rogers. Reading ahead spoils the fun. I burned myself on that habit,” Sam piped up. “When I was twelve, I was reading George Orwell’s 1984 and I read the last page after about 10 pages in.” He waited, that usually got groans and appreciative noises from his audience, but neither of them made a sound. Oh. Oh, god. “Y’all’ve never read 1984, have you?”

“Nope,” Barnes said, popping the P with a certain amount of gusto. “I haven’t actually read a book since 1943.”

“What was the last book you read?” Sam asked, curious.

“Um,” Barnes said, scratching at the scruff on his chin. “Not sure, maybe Happy Golden Years?”

“Wasn’t it that book your sister sent you?” Steve asked. “Along with some cookies that were mostly stale crumbs by the time we got the box.”

“Yeah, I think,” Barnes said. “That Laura Wilder woman. I used to read that to her, while they were shiny-new. The boy at the pharmacy had a crush on my sister –” he directed that comment at Sam, because surely this was something that Steve knew “– and he had given them to her.” He stopped, took a deep breath. “When… last year. I looked her up. She married that man. I have a grand-niece, and two great-grand-nephews, through them.”

“Have you made contact with them?”

Sam didn’t have to see Barnes’ face to imagine the flat look he was giving Steve. “Can’t think why they’d want me to.”

“C’mon, Buck,” Steve said, “you were a hero. What –”

“Stark ain’t the only person who might be keepin’ tabs on me,” Barnes said. “You think I wanna lead any stray Hydra t’ the only blood kin I got left? No, Stevie. Ain’t worth it for me, and they’re better off jus’ not knowing.”

Couldn’t say the man wasn’t smart, even if he had read Little House on the Prairie. Sam took his foot off the windowsill long enough to kick the back of Barnes’ seat. “Read, boy,” Sam said.

Barnes rumbled in his throat, then fished around in the bag to pull out a hardback novel. He flipped a few pages, drew his finger down the page, and started to read.

It was in Warwick Castle that I came across the curious stranger whom I am going to talk about.  He attracted me by three things: his candid simplicity, his marvelous familiarity with ancient armor, and the restfulness of his company—for he did all the talking.

There was something ironic about listening to a man out of time… reading about a man out of time, but Sam didn’t point it out. He lay back down in the back seat and listened to the man weave the story.

He might not have been able to sing worth shit, but Barnes could read. He was expressive, he did different voices for each of the characters, and he kept turning pages for as long as there was light in the car.

Sam reminded himself to buy more books. A lot more books.

I ain’t got much else to lose I’m faded flat busted Been jaded I been dusted I know that I’ve seen better days One foot in the hole One foot gettin’ deeper crank it to eleven And blow another speaker And I ain’t got, I ain’t got much to lose –Better Days (And The Bottom Drops Out), Citizen King

“Don’t know who the fuck thought you deserved a goddamn driver’s license,” Bucky snarled, unkinking himself from the front seat. Shotgun or not, Steve’s driving was terrible no matter what the road conditions were. Steve tailgated, he cut people off, he drove like he was in a fucking warzone and people were throwing grenades.

Bucky’s muscles ached from bracing himself against the door handle. A few times, he’d heard the plastic strain, just an inch from ripping the whole thing off in some vain attempt to keep himself from being smashed to tiny bits when Steve drove the tiny, stupid, unarmored car into a semi tractor-trailer.

Bucky knew, mind you, that tensing up was the worst thing he could do before impact. He’s learned over decades of training and conditioning to go limp for a crash. To roll with the force, eat it up in tumbles and rolls. That loose muscles were unlikely to strain so hard as to snap bones.

He could project trajectories, do the equations in seconds, calculate the turning of the planet, the wind resistance, to see the physics and algebra under the surface of the world, the threads and numbers and variables that moved the world. He could time a jump to the millisecond, he could calculate the paths that would help him catch his prey.

And he still couldn’t help but see every accident that Steve almost had.

He’d been watching that stupid punk nearly commit suicide by idiocy every day of his life from age nine to twenty-seven.

Steve’s reactions were as good as Bucky’s. He wasn’t trained with the specifics of mayhem that the Winter Soldier had been; Steve was just naturally good at wreaking havok.

“This hotel better have a pool, yo,” Wilson said. He was stretching luxuriously, as if he hadn’t spent the last half day asleep in the backseat. “An’ a poolside bar would not be a tragedy.”

“You are too used to living in the compound,” Steve snapped. Steve looked tired. How could that even be right? Steve had as much stamina as the Winter Soldiers. He’d certainly fought like he couldn’t be exhausted.

“You’re damn straight,” Sam said. “Defending the world needed to have its perks.”

“Is that what we’ve done, Sam?” Steve said.

Oh. Oh.

Steve wasn’t tired, not the way most people would mean it. Steve was exhausted. From carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. From the realization that what he’d done wasn’t saving the world.

“We got played,” Bucky said. It was nothing but the truth. Zemo had played them; had sought out all their weaknesses and used them against the other. Mistrust, lies, emotions had run high. Steve, who’d been badly compromised in his concern for Bucky. Bucky who’d lived so long as a tool that he had no idea how to function as a team. The drive for revenge all the way around. Zemo had played them like chess. Played them right into a trap.

And they’d tumbled in like fools. Breaking everything that had been important.

Personally, Bucky thought Stark was right; the Avengers weren’t for arms dealers. They weren’t for piddly terrorist groups and black market weapons dealers. They weren’t for the evils that humans could do against each other – and humans were pretty damn capable of hurting each other. The Avengers were for things like Loki, things like aliens and mutants that could crack the planet in half like a dinner plate in a shooting gallery.

Zemo had wrecked them.

They were floundering now, trying to find a stable balance while the world still rocked underneath them.

And Steve was carrying that fulcrum point. No matter how much Stark might hate them now, for what they’d done, for what they were, for who they were and the lies they’d told and the blood on their hands. Stark knew that. He was doing his best.

But Steve couldn’t find center.

“Pool sounds great,” Bucky said. Because Steve needed to relax, and he’d only do that, only had a chance of doing that, if Bucky led the way.

He ached to do it; he hadn’t been able to reach out, he didn’t want to touch Steve with his hands that had taken so much life, had destroyed so much. He’d killed Howard Stark, for fuck’s sake, the man who’d made all of this, all of them, possible. Hydra had stolen Erskine and Stark and so many others who’d helped Steve, kept him from dying, choking on his own blood, and Bucky had helped them destroy that, against his will, but he’d done it nonetheless.

He hadn’t been able to reach out. Steve had been the one to touch, to clasp Bucky’s shoulder, to put a hand over his, to stare with those longing blue eyes that just wanted to have his friend back.

In reality, it couldn’t have been more than five seconds that he hesitated. In Bucky’s head, it was fifty years, a hundred, half a million years. He reached out, slung that metal arm over Steve’s shoulders and drew him in, the way he’d done for the whole of their lives as free men, tucked Steve up against his body as if he was still a ninety-eight pound weakling.

“Let’s go have some fun, Stevie,” Bucky suggested.

Steve managed a trembling smile, and when Bucky returned it, Steve’s smile grew even brighter until the whole area was lit with its radiance. “Yeah, ya jerk, let’s do that.” 

Episode 15: Stormy Weather, More at Eleven

(King Falls AM Theme plays)

Ben: Can we please play it again, Sammy?

Sammy: Oh, will you stop it?

Ben: Think of it as my early Christmas present! Just one more time!

Sammy: You are way too happy about this, Ben.

Ben: It’s like watching Van Gogh paint Starry Night, Sammy. But backwards and then exploding like fireworks right before our very eyes.

Sammy: Or ears, in this case.

Ben: Well, yeah, of course ears. You get it, people.

Sammy: So, is this on your schedule, Ben?

Ben: You know that it isn’t. Just give me that one tiny sliver of happiness. I need this! It completes me.

Sammy: You are evil. And that is why we get along so well.

Ben: *laughs*

Sammy: Roll the damn tape!

Ben: Yes!

(Channel 13 Tape Starts)

Storm Sanders: Are we f**kin live, yall? I got sh*t to – (in professional voice) Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. This is your friendly neighborhood weatherman, Storm Sanders. And boy do we have some interesting weather here in the next *hiccups* few days.

Maggie: Storm are you feeling alright?

Storm: Maggie, you bet your motha (censored) ass I’m alright. Let’s just get to the forecast on yours truly today. Storms feelin’… partly cloudy with 100% chance of makin it rain down at the Red Rock bar. Holla at cha *hiccup* boy, Chet! Stacks on deck.

Maggie: Umm, we’re live Storm. If you could just get to the actual weather report –

Storm: F**k yo weather. You got a brain. Open the window and see if it’s hot. If it’s hot? I can’t change that s**t! If it’s cold? Put some more clothes on! If Steve will let you cover up those big ol’ t**ties!

Maggie: Storm!

Storm: Maaaaan, f**k it. Who the f**k even needs a weather report these days? It’s on ya phone! It’s on ya twitter! If I say it’s gonna rain it ain’t gonna change a f**kin thing! Mannnn, my skin feels weird.

(Tape cuts out)

Ben: *laughing hysterically*

Sammy: You are taking way too much pleasure in this.

Ben: Channel 13! Giving you all the news and weather you can handle.

Sammy: He isn’t wrong.

Ben: Ladies and gentlemen, if you missed that on your local news this evening, his words were only bleeped on King Falls AM. I’m sure if you YouTube it… *laughs* oh man. How long before somebody auto-tunes that?

Sammy: Moving forward, what’ve we got in store this evening?

Ben: If you or somebody you know knows how to do those talking music things, give us a call or tweet us @KingFallsAM.

Sammy: Ben…

Ben: I’m sorry. It’s just that we don’t get to win much around here, Sammy. We should enjoy these moments.

Sammy: If this were any other news station would you be this happy?

Ben: No, but Channel 13 is the hub of all evil. If you told me -  

Sammy: AGAIN, moving forward… what do we have on tab for the rest of the evening?

Ben: Ahem… can we do a weather report?

Sammy: You’re a child!

Ben: *laughing* Okay, folks, we’ve actually got some good stuff coming up in the next hour. Mr. Ron Begley from Begley’s Bait & Tackle will be visiting the show and talking to us about the 5th annual Bare Back Bear Festival.

Sammy: *laughs incredulously* Wow, uh, ya know, I guess I shouldn’t be that surprised.

Ben: I don’t get it. W-why are you laughing? You think riding a bear without a saddle is easy?

Sammy: Ben…your naivety brightens my day.

Ben: Whatever…Sammy. Anyway, coming up at the 5 o’clock hour, we’ve got Linda Miles over at King Falls Gazette calling in to give us the weekly Tim Jenson update.

Sammy: And hopefully filling us in with some good news. It sounds like we have a hell of a show happening, so stay tuned kids. We’re gonna pay some bills and hear a few words from our sponsors. We’ll be right back, King Falls.

(Jazz Music Plays)

“Ah, yeah. You’ve got the one and only Chet Sebastian here wishing all y’all out there the happiest of holiday seasons. This time of year you’re always on the lookout for a gift that’s gonna get ya a little something extra, and old Chet is here to deliver “Chet Sebastian’s Honey Pot of Horns”. A classy lady can’t so no to a man that knows his smooth jazz. With my newest album “Chest Sebastian’s Honey Pot of Horns”, you’ll look like the damn Albert Einstein of the brass section. Whether you’re a-givin or receivin. “Honey Pot of Horns” is a surefire way for a happier Hanukkah, a crazier Kwanza, a kinkier Christmas. No downloads here, cause a real man only spins vinyl for his lucky lady. Be Merry, you sexy thangs”

(Welcome to 660 theme plays)

Sammy: So, have you picked up Chet’s new album for that someone special in your life, Ben?

Ben: *chuckles* Dude, no. I love Chet, like you love a creepy masochistic uncle, but I can’t give that record to Emily.

Sammy: I hear classy ladies -

Ben: Don’t

Sammy: *laughs* Alright, folks. We’re gonna take some calls here while we wait on Ron to make his way into the studio. Give us a call 424-279-3858.

Ben: Or tweet us over at twitter @KingFallsAM. We gonna go with any particular topic or –

Sammy: We aren’t talking about Storm if that’s what you’re getting at.

Ben: Dammittttt. Line 5! You’re on with Sammy and Ben.

Cynthia: Ben Arnold! You ought to be ashamed of yourself! Making fun of poor Storm Sanders tonight.

Ben: Oh, come on! Channel 13 would jump at the chance to destroy us. One of their stupid “For the King Falls Community” investigations. Serves them right!

Cynthia: You’re just so much better than all of us, aren’t you, Ben? Why don’t you just move out of King Falls and go do your radio show in some metropolis or something!

Sammy: Cynthia, while I understand your frustration with Ben’s…giddiness, I –

Cynthia: Don’t give me any of your mumbo jumbo, Sammy. You’re high salutin, too! You’re probably doing this for “Make a Wish” kids or some sort of tax evasion scheme.

Sammy: What?!

Ben: Cynthia, I don’t understand this anger, even from you, tonight.

Cynthia: I just think you need to think before you poke fun. You of all people should know this isn’t as cut and dry as it looks.

Sammy: What are you getting at Cynthia?

Ben: *from the side of his mouth* She’s probably on the sauce that Storm is on…

Cynthia: He said his skin felt weird, idiots! Or did you miss that with all your jackass laughing, Ben?

Ben: Wait, are you sure about that?

Cynthia: 100%, because I wasn’t acting a fool when a man was having a crisis live on the television!

Ben: This isn’t good…

Sammy: What am I missing here?

Cynthia: Guess they don’t teach that kind of stuff at the Connecticut School of Broadcasting, do they, Sammy?

Sammy: Okay, first off, Cynthia, I did not go to that school. Second off –

Ben: His skin felt weird, Sammy.

Cynthia: Maybe if you paid attention in Simple Possessions and Hauntings 101 –

Ben: I’ll take it from here. Cynthia, have a great night.

Cynthia: Oh, of course you’re hanging up on me! High and mighty King Falls AM. You’ll see…

Ben: I didn’t hang up, Cynthia. But we gotta put the wheels in motion here.

Cynthia: Oh, please. You don’t have to sweet talk me. *hangs up*

Sammy: What’s the deal, Ben?

Ben: I should’ve seen this before. DAMMIT. I let my hatred from that terrible excuse for a news organization cloud my judgement.

Sammy: Are you gonna tell me what’s going on, or should I just make up my own thing here?

Ben: Sorry, Sammy. Legend has it, when certain types of spirits take a hold of a person…

Sammy: Uh-huh… “legend has it”…I see.

Ben: Don’t look at me like – forget it! It’s like a possession.

Sammy: Oh, like The Exorcist.

Ben: Kinda like it, but actually scary.

Sammy: Have you seen The Exorcist?!

Ben: I’m being serious! We need to get ahold of Storm. Folks, if you know Storm Sanders personally or can get us in touch with him, please dial in to the show- 424-279-3858.

Sammy: This is for real?

Ben: I’m a little worried. Cynthia, if you haven’t turned off the show in a blind rage, THANK YOU. Thank you for point this out to us.

Sammy: Okay, we’ve got some phone action. Line 12 you’re on King Falls AM.

Troy: Hey, Sammy. Ben.

Ben: We can’t do this right now, Troy.

Troy: I’m callin’ to make peace, Ben. The SS Friendship is ready to dock. All aboard.

Ben: *disconnects call* Not now, Troy! We’ve got a situation!

Sammy: Did you just hang up on Troy?!

Ben: Sammy, this is life or death! Line 5, this is Sammy and Ben.

Herschel: Alright listen you two dumbasses. This Storm fella looks like he’s about a medium build, maybe a buck 180. You get yourselves a gunny sack, some come-along straps, and a roll of duct tape. You meet me 19 clicks from Old Rose’s café at 0400 hours-

Ben: *disconnects call* Sorry, Herschel. You can cuss extra at us later.

Sammy: Oh, he’s gonna.

Ben: Line 10, hello?

Caller: *Native American inflection* Ben is right to be worried.

Sammy: And who are we speaking with?

Ben: Have you seen him tonight, sir?

Caller: I watched his outburst on the television.  I have been driving around downtown and around the station for the last few hours. No luck.

Ben: So, you’re out actively looking for him?

Sammy: Have you tried the Red Rock bar, perhaps?

Ben: Not now, Sammy. I’m sorry – who is this?

Caller: This is Walt. That is all you will get.

Ben: Fair enough. So you know the legend?

Walt: I know the truth. Saying “legend” makes it seem like people haven’t seen it with their own eyes. Or lived it. I have done both.

Sammy: Can one of you two please explain what we are so worried for myself and for the listeners?

Ben: Legend has it – ah sorry- uh, the story goes that…well, I said it was like possession, but really, it’s like a hostile takeover of your mind, body, and soul. Is that right, Walt?

Walt: My people tell stories of men with evil hearts living outside Hatchineha lands. Their only purpose on this earth is to claim others as they once were claimed.

Ben: They call them skinwalkers, Sammy.

Sammy: Not…the best sounding thing to hear on a late night, but… please continue, Walt.

Walt: These men, if you can call them that, tampered with things they should not have tampered with. They became things one should not be. They have the ability to go in one form and out to another as they please. All while searching to make more of their kind.  

Sammy: Okay, well as much as I don’t like this or hardly believe it, what does this have to do with Storm Sanders?

Ben: That’s the interesting part, Sammy. When confronted and converted, I guess you could say, victims start to act in certain ways.

Sammy: Certain, drunken way. If every guy I’ve seen hammered in a bar who sing-cries his way through an 80’s love ballad is a skinwalker, then we are all in deep trouble.

Ben: Not the drunken thing. An uneasiness in one’s body.

Walt: They begin to exhibit signs of outer sickness: fever, sweats, an itching.

Ben: An itching so bad that…they try to peel their skin off.

Sammy: So they’re the werewolves from Route 72?

Walt: No!

Ben: No way!

Sammy: Guys! I’m just trying to grasp this. I’m a pretty piss poor cryptozoologist and let’s be honest, skinwalker sound like it’d be a term for a naked zombie.

Ben: Whatever, Sammy. Keep cracking jokes.

Walt: I need to pay better attention to my tracking, gentlemen. I’m going to let you go. Be well, be safe.

Ben: Thank you so much for the call, Walt. Stay in touch, please.

Walt: Only if I have to. *hangs up*

Sammy: So, you heard it, kids. If you should happen upon your local weatherman… *sighs* You know, I had a joke here. What should I say if they do see him?

Ben: *flustered* DO NOT LOOK HIM IN THE EYES. Stay calm, get to a phone, and call us at the station.

Sammy: Or a dog catcher. We don’t need a ton of guys to go pick this guy up. He’s dangerous, if not to us, then to himself.

Ben: Call the sheriff’s office, guys. Be safe and be aware of your surroundings.

Sammy: Okay. Let’s take another caller, Ben.

Ben: Let’s do it. Line 9, welcome to King Falls AM with Sammy and Ben.

Troy: Ben, don’t you hang up on me. I’m growin real tired of hearing your little pity party every night. I’m tryin to make this right. Now listen, I’ve got an idea…and it is a good one.

Ben: Ho! That’s a first. Is this you trying to get in my good graces by finding the weatherman?

Troy: I don’t give two shakes of a lambs (censored) about a weatherman, Ben. I just want things to be right with us again.

Ben: There is no us, Troy.

Sammy: Let’s just calm down fellas.

Ben: I’ll make this quick, Sammy. You gonna avenge Serendipity the sugar glider, Troy?

Troy: Oh come on, man. You know I can’t.

Ben: Then this conversation is over. AGAIN. For the last time.

Troy: It’s Christmas time, Ben…or Hanukah, or Kwanza…can’t you find it in your heart to forgive?

Ben: YEAH, I don’t think so. Put me on the naughty list. Bye, Troy.

Troy: There ain’t nothin but friendship goin in your stocking at my house, Ben. I’m gonna fix this, future buddy. You’ll see. *hangs up*

Ben: Don’t look at me like that, Sammy. Let’s take another call.

Sammy: I just think you’re being a little harsh, that’s all. You’re amped up, you’re hanging up on friends of the show, you’re hanging up on listeners.

Ben: Okay, Troy is not a friend of the show…. He’s a friend of the you.

Sammy: Ben…

Ben: Don’t “Bennnn” me, Sammy. Can we just get back to the task at hand?

Sammy: Yes. Folks, if you’d like to get hung up on by us, please give us a call 424 –

Ben: Lucky Line 1! You’re live on the air.

Caller: *talking very fast* Yeah, uh, thanks for taking my call. I’d like to talk about city ordinance 44812-36. Uh, these politicians think they can pull the wool over our eyes again! But some of –

Ben: Sorry to cut you off, sir, but we’ve got to a station emergency happening. Give us a call back next week when councilmen Davidson is on.

Caller: Media Puppet! …. bye.

Sammy: Storm isn’t gonna call in himself, Ben. Maybe we need to take a break and re-group here.

Ben: I’m just worried, man. I don’t think you get how bad this is.

Sammy: I don’t ever get how bad any of this is. Does… skinwalking happen a lot?

Ben: Well, the Hatchineha Indians believed it did. It’s just a scary bedtime story to the King Falls kids I guess, but for the first time I feel like this might be a real thing.

Sammy: Are you sure it’s not just the clowns down at Channel 13? Like, you really believe this?

Ben: I believe that they believe it… and I believe they know more about it than we ever will. Think about it. Just crossing paths with one of these evil ass beings, animals, spirits, what-have-you…and you’re toast. If you look it in the eyes it locks eyes with you then there is no more you.

Sammy: It’s an unsettling thought.

Ben: Skinwalkers, man. Wicked spirits taking the form of different things i.e – news reporters! Looking to just suck the soul right out of you! It’s like pure frickin’ evil! I just want everyone listening to be safe.

Sammy: And I think that’s the main point tonight. Stay safe out there, King Falls. I just don’t like this…

Ben: Yeah, I don’t either!

Sammy: Okay, I’m just trying to grasp this – why do you want to find him?  And more to the point, why do you want us to find him?

Ben: Same reason Walt was out there searching for Storm. They say if it’s caught in time, it can be reversed. Not by me, obviously, but if we can of service to the community, why wouldn’t we do what we can?

Sammy: *admired silence* You’re a good dude, Ben Arnold. Folks, sit tight. We’re just gonna take a quick minute or two to get everything- *sudden knock at the door* WHAT THE (CENSORED)

Ben: NOT FUNNY, SAMMY.

Sammy: That wasn’t me! That’s the studio door.

Ben: Uhhhh- RECORDING LIGHT IS ON. GO AWAY.

Sammy: *whispering* Oh yeah, I think that did it. *more loud knocking* Dammit. You wanna get that?

Ben: No!

Sammy: Ben! Okay let’s cut to commercial and we’ll answer the door –

Ben: Do not go to commercial! I want whatever happens to be broadcast out to the masses, man.

Sammy: Oh, that’s a great idea. You gunning for the posthumous Pulitzer?

Ben: I’m just gonna dial up Troy… ya know, just in case.

Sammy: You know what, I’m the new guy. Let me answer the door.

Ben: Probably nothing…Oh, uh, maybe it’s Ron! He’s coming in, remember? Good ol’ scaring-the-bejesus-out-of-us Ron.

Sammy: Somehow, I don’t think this is Ron Begley at our door. Be right back…

Ben: That’s the spirit…take the portable mic with you. Hey, um, Sammy?

Sammy: Don’t. *sounds of Sammy walking and opening the door*

Storm: I ain’t the repo man, General (censored). Not answering the door? That’s some way to treat your brother in news reporting.

Ben: Sammy?!

Sammy: *clears throat* Uh, ladies and gentlemen, I’m standing in the parking lot now with Mr. Storm Sanders, Channel 13’s weatherman –

Storm: Ex-Channel 13. Get it right, Sammy.

Ben: *whispering* Don’t look in his eyes, Sammy.

Storm: What’s that?! Why ain’t you lookin at me, Sammy?

Ben: I’m coming, Sammy. Don’t look, man! *sounds of Ben running to Sammy* Don’t look him in the eyes, Sammy!

Storm: Well, hello to you too, Ben.

Ben: Avert your eyes, Sammy!

Storm: You are a rude piece of work, Ben. Look at me!

Ben: *laughs nervously* Yeah, uh, I’m not gonna do that.

Storm: What the (censored) are you two up to?!

Sammy: Ya know, okay *sighs* after seeing your outburst –

Storm: Is it cold out here to you?

Sammy: Ben – I, uh, we… King Falls, uh… we’re all a little worried that maybe, uh -

Storm: That what?! I ain’t got all night.

Ben: Well… it’s not like you’re gonna make the morning forecast *light laugh*

Storm: That’s uncalled for! But true. Spit it out, Sammy.

Sammy: Well, Ben, me, we…uh, we? We think that –

Storm: Phew, where’s ya thermostat boys?

Sammy: … We’re outside.

Storm: It’s hot as fire out here! Like ya junk once you landed one of Chet’s old ladies. Know what I mean? Are y’all feelin this (censored)?

Sammy: Storm! Focus! Ben thinks that, uh –

Ben: FACE IT, STORM! You’re a skinwalker! You’re a goner, man! Get outta here before you pass your soul eating virus on to us!

Sammy: What he said.

Storm: A skinwalker? A SKINWALKER?! You been lookin for my ass all night in this rinky dink little station just to call me on some voodoo (censored)?! I don’t like the cut of your jib, Ben. And - *faints*

Sammy: He- he just died, right? Is he dead?

Ben: He’s still breathing. What the HELL was that?

Sammy: I’m guessing Storm was going off the reservation and passing out, ladies and gents. *sounds of distant footsteps approaching* Not completely sure what we – WHAT THE- WHO ARE YOU?! What are you doing here?!

Walt: *sighs* Saving your lives. Thank me later. Now, grab his feet.

Ben: Walt?

Walt: That’s all you’ll get…

Ben: If Storm wakes up, don’t look in his eyes, Sammy!

Sammy: You know, I think I’ve got it now. Will you just stop standing there and give us a hand, please?

Ben: (censored) damn Channel 13, man!  

maximum logo ka breakup ho jata hai.Bas kuch mistakes ki wajah se.Agar aap apne boyfriend ko kush nahi rakhate hai to vo apke sath bore feel karne lagata hai agar relationship ko khatam nahi hone dena chahati hai to apko apne relationship ko aage tak le jane ke liye apko bahut hi achhe se apni boyfriend ka sath dena hota hai.Usako samajhana hota hai.Vo kaya chhahata hai aur bahut kuch.Usako always happy karne ki kosis karo.Nahi to apka relationshp bahut jald khatare me pad sakata hai.agar Aap apni Boyfriend se bahut hi pyar karti hai to i know aap unako kabhi bhi khona nahi chahati honge.lekin sab koi janata hai agar apke sath koi bhi relationship me hai to usake bhi khvais hai.unake bare me sochiye samajhiye apke boyfriend ko kya achha lagata hai kya bura lagata hai aur tab aap achhe se apni relationship ko marriege ke time tak le jaa sakati hai.ye post un logo ke liye hai jinaki bf naraj ho gaya hai aur vo unako manana chahati hai.but yad rakhiye agar aap student ho to pahale decide kar lo aap jo kar rahi ho vo apke liye achcha hai ya nahi kuki apko abhi sabkuch achcha hi lagega but jab apki age 18+ hogi to apko samajh ata hai kya apke liye sahi hai kya nahi.agar aap janati hai apka boyfriend bahut hi achcha ladaka hai aur vo jarur success hoga.aur vo agar apse bahut pyar karta hai.to agar vo ruth jaye to aap jarur use manaye.relationship me ho sisters to ye bat jarur yad rakhna kabhi bhi apne bf par depend mt hona aap apni goal ko achieve karna.aur dusari bat agar vo ladaka apke sath hai to bhi aap kush hai apko koi fark nahi padta aur agar vo apko bhul jata hai to bhi apko koi fark nahi padna chahiye.tabi aap apne life me aage badh paogi.aap relationship me ho better hai but agar apko us ladake ki adat ho jaye ye apke liye better nahi hai aur aapko pta hoga koi bhi Adiction achcha nahi hota.

to aaiye ab topic par aate hai agar apka boyfriend apse kisi vajah se naraj ho gaya hai to usako kaise manaye.agar bf naraj ho jata haii to apko bahut hi soch samajhkar usako manana hota hai varana agar aap use aur gussa dila dengi to apki relationship khatare me pad sakati hai.To sisters aaiye sabse pahle jan lete hai ki boyfriend kin kin bato se naraj ho sakata hai.

Boyfriend Kin Kin bato Se Naraj Ho Saktaa Hai?

Agar apka boyfriend hai aur aap apni puri life usake sath bitana chahati hai to apko samajhana hoga ki apke bf ko kya achha lagata hai kya bura lagata hai.aur sabse important baat kabhi bhi kisi ko timepass ke liye mat chaho.agar aap timepass ke liye ladake ko apna bf banaaye ho to mujhe apse nafarat hai aur hamari ye tips bhi apke liye nahi hai aur na kabhi ye apka koi help karegi.To agar aap apnevboyfriend se true love karte hai to is post padhate rahiye apko sara solution mil jaayega.

1#-Had Se Jyada Bolana

agar aap apni bf se baat karti hai to issaka matlab ye nahi ki aap keval bolati rahe aur usako baat karne kaa mauka mat de ye achcha nahi hai.agar aap esa kar rahi hai to isako sudhare aur aap apne boyfriend ko jayaada sune unaki baat ko suno usake baad aap kuch bole.kyoki kuch boys ko jayaada bakbkane wali girls pasand nahi hota hai.Aap unaki bato ko suniye vo kya kahata hai aur usaka reply soch samajh ke kariye.aur apne boyfriend se baat karte time aap usake ankho me ankhe ko dalkar baat kare means eye contact rakh kar bat kariye. isase apke bf ko bahut achha lagega aur vo aap par fida hota jaayega vo apke pyar me pagal hota jayegi.koi boyl apki bf ban gai hai to isaka matlab ye nahi ki aap usako kuch bhi bolengi to gussa nahi hoga.Gussa jarur hoga agar aap apne had se jyada usake bare me sochati hai to ye bhi apke liye better nahi hai.abhi aap ek limit me rahe means  aap samajh rahi hongi mai kya kahna chahata hun.kya pta vo ladaka aage chal ke apko chod de aur us time to apki life khrab ho jayegi na isiliye aap hmesa apni limit me rahe.Aapke liye sabse important hai bat karne ka style kayoki bf ko apne bato se hi apne pyar me pagal kar sakati ho.To apko es tarike se baat karni chahiye ki bf ko esa na lage ki aap usake sath timepass kar rahi ho.Aap usako keval feel karao ki aap usase kitana pyar karti ho,usake bina jee nahi sakati ho.agar aapne en bato ko follow nahi karengi to apka relationship khatare me pad sakata hai.aap is bat ko hmesa follow kare

2-No Dought On Boyfriend

apni boyfriend par kabhi bhi sak mat karo.agar usako es bare me pata chal gaya ki aap uspar sak kar rahi ho to vo apse naraj ho sakata hai.Aap apne bf ko esa kabhi bhi feel na hone de ki aap unpar sak karti ho.

is dunia me kisi par bhi believe karna thik nahi kyoki ho sakata hai apka boyfriend apke sath timepass kar raha ho.isiliye aap isako confirm kare ki vo ladaka aapke sath timepass to nahi kar raha hai.aur apko sak karana jayej hai kyoki is world me kisi par bhi beleive karna thoda muskil hai.sak kare but kuch ese ki usako pata na chale nahi to agar aap usaki choti choti bato ko ignore karti rahi aur vo apke sath ese hi timepass karta rahe ye bhi tic nahi hai.

But ye bhi ho sakata hai vo apse bahut pyar karta ho beintha mohabbat karta ho.Agar usako pata chala ki aap usa par sak kar rahi hai to aap unpar apna beleive ko kho dengi aur is tarah vo apse bahut naraj ho sakata hai.Aur jab bf baat nahi karega naraj ho jaayega to aap janate hi honge kitana muskil ho jata hai manana usako.

#3-Don't Say Wrong About His Family

apne boyfriend ke family ke bare me kabhi bhi wrong na think kare.Aur na apne bf se esa bole ki apke family ka ye membar mujhe pasand nahi hai.Agar aap esa karti hai to apko bahut badi problem hogi.Apke bf ko lagega aap usake family se love nahi karti hai.Aur kabhi bhi apni bf se na bole agar hmare aur apke family ke log raaji nahi honge to ham dono bhag kar marriege kar lenge.agar aap esa bolenge to ye apke bf ko thoda saa bhi pasand nahi ayega.sabhi ko apne family ke sath rahna achha lagata hai.Aur vo apke sath kabhi nahi bhagega agar vo bahut achha think karta hai to apko chor jarur sakata hai apne family ke liye.to eas bat par pura dhyan rakhe.Bhag kar marriege karna nich logo kaa work hota hai.Agar apne bf se true love kiya hai to usake family ke membar ke bare me kabhi bhi negative na soche aur na bole.isake bavjud aap unake family ke bare me jayaada janane ki kosis kariye.aur unake family ke logo ke like unlike ke bare me soche.

#4-Boyfriend Kisi Tarif Karna

sabhi boys ko apna tarif sunana bahut hi achha lagata hai aur agar usaki girlfriend usaki tarif kare to vo aur bhi kush hoga aur apke pyar me pagal hoga.to aap bhi apne bf ki tarif karna na bhule.unaki muskurahat,usaki ankhe,usaki hair style,usake passion Ki tarif jarur kare.aur yad rahe unaki tarif had se jayaada na kare.apke bf ko esa nahi feel hona chahiye ki aap unaki jhuti tarif kar rahe hai.agar aap esa kar rahi ho to ye bahut jald hi apke bf ko pata chal jaayega.usake bad aapko pata hi hoga kya hoga.agar aap unse true love karti hai to esa na kare.unako yakin dilaye ki aap unse kitna pyar karti ho feel karaye use ki aap use kitana chahati ho.unake bina ji nahi sakati ho.aur unaki kabhi bhi jhuti tarif na kare.

Apni relationship ke sath sath apne success hone ke bare me bhi sochiye.apni aim ke bare me sochiye.aur apni sucfess ko hasil kariye.kyoki aap kisi par depend nahi rah sakati hai agar mana agar apka marriage ho jata hai aur apke baby bhi ho jate hai aur kisi karan apke husband ka death ho jata hai tab aap kya karogi apki apke bachcho ko kaun palega.kaun padhayega.isiliye aap apne goal ko achieve kariye.Har boy ko ese girl pasand hoti hai jo bahut jayaada smart ho aur apne education me bahut hi better ho.Apke bf ko kabhi esa feel na hone de ki aap aur ladakiyo se kam hai chahe study me ya kisi bhi kam me.sabhi ladake chahate hai unaka gf bahut hi smart,intelligent ho.girl apne life ke bare me sochati hai ki agar mera boyfriend success nahi hua to mera kaise khyal kaun rakhega.meri jarurato ko kaun pura karega.

#6-Ex Boyfriend

agar apka koi boyfriend tha aur usase breakup ho gya hai.aur aap new relationship me hai to aap apne bf ko 2 ya 3 month baad apne ex boyfriend ko bata de warna agar usako pata chal gya ki apki ex boyfriend bhi hai to apka relationship khatre me pad jayega.aur itana bhi jaldi na kare btana me Jab tak 3 ya 4 month nahi ho jata.pahale apne bf ke believe ko jitiye taaki vo aap par kabhi bhi sak na kare.Usake baad jab lage apko ki ab achha time hai usako apni ex ke bare me btane ki to aap usase apni ex boyfriend ki baat ko share kar de.but yad rahe ye bat kabhi bhi phone ya chat se na bataye.nahi to bahut badi problem me pad jaogi.aap unse milkar hi apni ex ki bato ko share kare.aur apni ex ki bato ko share karte time usaka tarif na kare.aur na jyada apne ex ki burai.bas aap kah sakate ho usako meri ye relationship pasand nahi thi isiliye usane mujse breakup kar liya.

#7-Respect Your Boyfriend

sabhi boys chahte hai ki unaki gf unpar beleive kare unaki sabhi bato ko mane.aap esa hi kijiye aur apne bf ko respect de kabhi bhi bhulkar bhi unako gali na de.unake bare me ulta sidha na kahe.nahi to agr apke boyfriend ko esa feel hua ki apki najar me usaki koi respect nahi hai to vo apse bahut jald hi breakup kar lega.

to sisters in sab bato ko dhyan me rakhiye aur samajhiye.Apne bf ko naraj hone ki mauka na de,aur usko gussa na dilaye.

agar aap unase true love karti hai to aap unako hmesa kush rakhe.Friends mujhe yakeen hai ki apko ye bate achhi lagi hogi.aur in bato ko khyal me rakhkar apne bf ke sath achha behave karengi.

#8- Make Believe

aap apne boyfriend ki har bat mane usako kisi bhi prakar hurt na kare.aur usake ijajat ke bina usako touch bhi na kare.nahi to usako lagega ki aap usake body se love karti ho.usase nahi aur all boys know that esi soch ek ghatiya girls hi rakh sakti hai.aur usako kiss bhi na kare usake ijajat ke bina.unake believe ko bnaye rakhe.ek relationship ko bnaye rakhane ke liye sabse important hota hai.believe ko bnaye rakhna.

To aaiye friends ab apne main topic par aate hai.

#9-Never Tell A Lie

kabhi bhi chahe kuch bhi ho aap apne boyfriend se kabhi bhi zut na boliye.agar apka bf ko pata chal gaya ki aap unase zut bol rahi thi to aap par unka believe khatm ho jayega aur apka relationship breakup tak phunch jayega.

 Boyfriend Naraj Hai? Kaise Manaye?

boyfriend bna hi liya hai to apko sab kuch manage to karna hi padega.usaki narajgi,usaki kami.usake gusse ka.agar aapka bf kisi bhi vajah se apse naraj ho gai hai to aap usako kaise manayengi yahi batane wala hun apko.sabse pahale to aap apne ko saant rakhe.pagal mat baniye soch samajh kar koi bhi kam kare.bf naraj hota hai to usako manana itna bhi asan nahi hai.Usake liye apko kuch karna hi hoga.to aaiye janate hai ki aap apne bf ko kaise mana sakati hai.

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#1-Narajagi Ka Reason

boyfriend naraj hai kyo naraj hai ye apko samajhna bahut hi jaruri hai.bina reason ko samajhe aap unako kabhi nahi mana paogi.kyoki ye problem bhi vaisi hi hai jaisi mathematics ki problem aapko pta hi jab tak hame question achche se samajh nahi aata hai ham usako solve bhi nahi kar sakate hai same ussi tarah ye problem bhi hai.Sabse papale aap think kariye apne galati kaha ki hai usake bad apne galati ko samajhane ke baad sochiye muje kya karna chahiye.bf ki narajgi ko dur karne ke liye.

Agar apko koi solutions nahi sujh raha hai to apko ghabrane ki jarurat nahi hai hamane kuch tips diye hue hai usako follow kare.

Aap mere website arifabid.com par aaye hai apka puri tarh se help ki jayegi.

#2-Say Him Sorry For Your Mistake

sabse pahale to aap apne bf ko apni galati ke liye sorry boliye.ekdam emotional hokar.Agar phir bhi bf nahi manata hai to aap ek din ke liye usase baat na kariye,bilkul bhi nahi na whatsapp par online hoiye aur na facebook par.mai janata hun ye bada muskil hai apke liye but apko esa hi karna padega.nahi to love story bahut jald hi khatam ho jayegi.apko patience rkhna padega.

Vaise apko pta hoga hme har kam mr patience ki jarurat hoti hai usi tarah apko yhan bhi isaki need hai.

agar aap lagatar usase sorry bolengi aur unse bar bar bat karne ki sochengi to esa karke aap achha nahi kar rahi hai.is tarah aap apne bf ko aur naraj kar rahi hai.usaki gussa aur badha rahi hai.aur aap janati hi hongi boys ka bahut hi jyaada attitude hota hai.vo janata hai aap usako mnane ke liye bahut kuch karogi isiliye vo aur attitude dikhayega apko.

isiliye sister aap ek din tak usse koi sorry worry ka msg na kare.aur agar aap esa karengi to apke bf ko lagega ki aap ab usase bat nahi karoge. Aur vo dar jayega kyoki vo apse bahut hi love karta hai aur vo apko khona to chahega nahi.isiliye apko esa karna hai.phir kuch din ke bad aap apne bf ko massage kare aur dubara use sorry bole mai demo bata rha hun aap kya bol skate hai.

 [abhi bhi naraj ho,kb tak gussa rahoge…… sorry bol rahi hun apni galati ke liye …ab to man jao. Kya kabhi kisi se galati nahi ho jati hai …ab aisi galati nahi hogi promise…mujse naraj mat ho please… ]

aap msg me esa bol sakato ho.

usake baad dekhna vo kaise mom ki tarah pighal jaayega.aur friends apki story phir se suru ho jayegi aur aap kushi me koi dusara galati kabhi mat karna nahi to kya hoga.apko andaja nahi hoga.kabhi bhi koi dusari galati mat karna.

agar apka bf nahi abhi bhi nahi man raha hai to matlab ki vo apse bahut naraj hai matlab vo bahut hi naraj hai isake liye bhi apke liye mere pas tips hai.aap bas padhate rahe is post ko.

#3-Very 😡 Angry Boyfriend

agar bf par upar ki tips ko follow karne par nahi manati hai to aap is tips ko follow kare.aap sorry bol ke apni bf ko apni aur usake ki gi bato ko yad dilaye use feel karao ki aap unse kitna love karti hai.vo un palo ko yad karke thoda se pighlega jarur aur kuch din me vo apse baat karne lagega.jab usaka mood ok ho jayega to.

agar aap unase mil sakati ho to unako msg karo ki [is palace par aao dono milkar apni problems ko solve kar lete hai agar bat nahi karoge to problems aur hogi aur narajgi bhi tumhari badhati ja rahi tumari kasam tumko ana hoga.mujse milane aao…]

is tarah aap unse mile sur ankho me ankhe dalkar,unaki hatho ko apne hato me thamkar unse bat kare.ekdam emotional tarike se taki apka bf ko lage ki apko apni galati ke liye pachatava hai.aap unase achhe se bat kar le.vo jarur man jayega.

#4-Gift For Boyfriend

apka bf naraj hai to usake liye gift send karo ya kud jakar do usase sorry bolo.vo jarur man jayegi.aap usako achhi dress,ya watch gift kar sakati hai .apko pata hi hoga usako kya pasand hai isiliye usake pasand se ap gift de sakati hai usako.

#5-Take Help His Best friend

apne bf ko manane ke liye aap apni bf ki bestfriend ka help le sakati hai.Usaka best friend apka jarur help karega.Aur apko achhe tarike jarur batayega ki kaise aap usako mana sakati ho.

agar in sab tips ko follow karne par bf nahi manata hai to isaka matlab hai vo apse timepass kar raha tha aur mauke ke talas me tha breakup karne ke liye.ya usako ab apme koi interest nahi hai.agar vo bhi apse bahut hi sachha pyar karta hai to vo jarur man jayega.

#6. Met him

Agar phir bhi nahi manata hai to apke pas ek last chance hai . Usase milkar bat karne ki aap usa bhuliye kisi park me aur usase milkar bat kare.

I know maine isake bare me post me bataya hai but mai yhan phir iss bat ko isliye bol raha ki ye hi sabse best tarika hai usako manane ka.aur agar iss tips se bhi nahi manata hai to aao usako bhulane ki kosis kare aur apne life me aage badhe.

Final Word: 

to sisters apne bf ko mana lijiye warna phir itna chahane wala bf nahi milegi apko.aur aap phir se koi galati mat karna.to friends agar apka bf man jaata hai to mujhko bhi bataye kus hokar muje na bhule.agar phir bhi nahi manata hai to aap comment kare sayad mai apki help kar saku.