#‘call us back now or we’ll call your parents’ DIE. I HATE YOU

[swamp-king1827]

I HATE my college I can’t wait to be out of that place

[githjanken]

i’m seeing a lot of fear today about Tumblr Shutting Down (Real) (Actually True) today and let peepaw seg tell you a story

i’ve been on this webbed site for fifteen years, believe it or not, since way back in the days of Tumblarity. now i was but a wee lad at the time, so i don’t remember the fine details, but rest assured, it doesn’t matter much for the story i’m about to tell you.

you see, i remember when tumblr was owned by tumblr. folk called its ceo (david karp) “daddy”, and were enthusiastic about his communications, even if on our own blogs, we’d bitch and moan about tumblr making changes to things we were used to. i remember the hubbub when tumblr removed tumblarity, and how this was surely going to be the end of tumblr.

all those fifteen (though it might be sixteen) years ago.

layouts changed, and we’d bitch and moan, and tumblr’d get sold, and we’d know for sure that This Was The End Of Tumblr, For Real This Time. this happened again and again and again, because this webbed site, you see, it makes no money, and companies, greedy things as they are, like money.

the porn ban, under the reign of YaHoo that was, was seen as another death knell. tumblr was going to die, for real, for sure, and i’m not proud to say that i was one of the ones who fell for it. peepaw seg needed to sow hir wild oats on other platforms.

now, i say this happened under yahoo, but it’s important to remember that this ban came in the wake of both the apple app store banning the tumblr app on account of real life csem being hosted on tumblr, and the new usamerican law SESTA-FOSTA being implemented, which made it so that companies such as tumblr would have to moderate the explicit content on them to make sure none of it breached sesta-fosta. tumblr, being a small fish in the grand scheme of thing, didn’t warrant that amount of financial effort on yahoo’s part, as the site was still not making any money, and it’s easier and cheaper to blanket ban than it is to moderate. all this to say, it’s important to vote, because if you don’t, your internet freedom will be curtailed.

and now we’re here, some sixteen years on, and i’ll say automattic has been not all good, but definitely not all bad for the site. they changed stuff we liked to our discontent (layouts), and added stuff we hated (live), but they also gave us stuff we like (polls) and an amount of open communication about tumblr’s inner workings not seen since the days of david “daddy” karp. and now they’re putting just a skeleton crew on the tumblr project.

and that’s going to be The End Of Tumblr For Sure For Real Actually This Time. Really. Promise. Abandon Ship.

and we come to the crux of this story.

which is that this has happened before, and it will happen again, because tumblr is surprisingly immune to making any money.

what we’re likely to see in the coming time is no new features (that’s reserved for projects that make money), and an increase in ads, until one day, and this might be in a few months, and maybe in a few years, there’ll be an announcement that tumblr’s been sold to one direction to a new company.

and we’ll start the whole rigmarole again. and this company might be good for tumblr’s userbase, or it might go against everything the tumblr community holds dear. no way of knowing which way it’ll go.

until one day, some parent company will have had enough, and will pull the plug.

but for now… well, i’m gonna sit here on my porch (blog), and we’ll see what happens. i'm not worried, tumblr’s survived worse things.

[chosen-hero-inari]

Whumptober Day 31: "I'm Alive, I'm Just Not Well"

A/N: i stayed up listening to EPIC the vengeance saga and I REGRET NOTHING

Pray

The air around the shrine is chilly, and Hamuko pulls her scarf tighter.

It’ll be the Dark Hour soon, and she… doesn’t know what to do about it.

Ikutski betrayed them, Mitsuru-senpai lost her father, and they’re no closer to figuring out how to destroy the Dark Hour and the threat of Shadows once and for all than they were when she first arrived at the dorm.

Instead of worrying about that, Hamuko does what she does best: find another problem to solve.

Shinjiro had mentioned some kids hanging around the back alleys alongside Strega, and now that Strega was gone, Hamuko could at least help them.

She’d spent the last few days asking around after school, and is fairly certain she’s tracked them down here.

Hamuko checks her phone. A few seconds to midnight.

She closes her eyes, and when she opens them the world is blanketed in green. 

“Did you really come alone?” 

Hamuko spins around, her hand going to her Evoker on instinct, but it’s just three kids.

The boy who spoke has brown hair, and looks to be around Ken’s age. Next to him is thinner boy with blue hair.

Finally, there’s a girl with orange hair and a laptop looking down on her from atop the jungle gym.

“Hi,” Hamuko says. “I’m–

“We know who you are.” The girl says. “Hamuko Arisato, Gekkoughan high school calls 2-F, top of your class, member of the volleyball team, the library club, student council, and of course the Specialized Extracurricular Execution Squad.”

“How did you know that?” Hamuko asks.

“Getting your transcript was way too easy,” the girl replies.

Her transcript. The one that mentions her parents.

“Well, it’s only fair I know your names, since you know mine, right?”

The three kids share a look, then the brown haired one shrugs. “Goro Akechi.”

“I’m Yusuke Kitagawa,” the thin boy says.

“Futaba Ishikki,” the girl says.

“It’s nice to meet all of you,” Hamuko says. “I want to help you, I can take you to see Chidori.”

Kitagwa-kun steps forward, but Akechi-kun puts out a hand.

“You don’t understand what’s going on here,” Akechi-kun says. “We’re making the demands. Let Chidori go, and stop trying to destroy the Dark Hour.”

“We won’t do that,” Hamuko says. “Not while Shadows are still a threat to humanity–”

“Humans are worse than any Shadow out there,” Kitagawa-kun snaps. “Just give us back Ms. Chidori!”

Hamuko represses a groan at the thought of Takaya saying pretty much the same thing. “Ok, yes people will still die and suffer without Shadows. But it will be fewer people, because we can’t just get rid of the things that make people hurt other people.”

“Says you,” Ishikki-kun says. “The Lost aren’t hurting anyone.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“Then it seems we’re at an impasse,” Akechi-kun says. “We can't agree, so I guess we’ll have to talk to your friends and see what they think.”

“Yes!” Hamuko says. “Come back with me to the dorm, and we’ll talk to my friends!”

“You really don’t think much of us, do you?” Akechi-kun says. “Just because Takaya thinks you’re special doesn’t mean you can brush us off.”

“I really don’t care that Takaya thinks I’m special,” Hamuko says. “In fact, I kind of hate it.”

“Hey! Don’t talk about him like that! Takaya’s strong! And we’re just as strong as he is!” Hamuko just catches the glint of an Evoker as Akechi-kun pulls it out and points it to his head. “Minos!”

Hamuko dodges Akechi-kun’s Persona, and pulls out her own Evoker. 

“Thanatos!” she cries out, absorbing the next Dark attack. “Kids, I really don’t want to fight you.”

“Too bad,” Akechi-kun says. He nods up at Ishikki.

“You can’t hide anything from Despoena,” the girl smirks, summoning her own Persona. It’s clear instantly that Hamuko’s being scanned.

Hamuko casts Tempest Slash towards Akechi-kun, but Kitagawa-kun gets in the way. 

“Our turn!” Ishikki giggles.

“Tantalus,” Kitagawa-kun says, and suddenly there’s a chill in the night air. Then Kitagwa-kun’s Persona strikes her. It doesn’t hurt thanks to Thanatos, but suddenly Hamuko’s rocked by another kind of pain.

She’s unbearably hungry.

“Guess you really aren’t that special,” Akechi-kun says, and then his Persona changes. “Ikelos. Hamaon.”

Oh it is going to be a long night.

[dorkydiaz]

YOU MADE HER LIKE THAT [1k | buckley siblings | 6x10 spec] {ao3}

a/n: ending inspired by this post by @buckleyirondad <3. title from mad woman by taylor swift.

TW: reference to canonical suicide attempt.

There have been moments in Maddie’s life where everything has gone right. The past few days have been the opposite of that. Especially the past few hours. It had started with a quip about Jee’s bed time. Then how Chimney wasn’t here as if he wasn’t working. She was starting to hate the fact that this house had a guest bedroom.

She stood her ground. Pointedly skewered her parents. Then they had disappeared until now.

The rain pelting against the windows. Thunder booming. Lightning cracking the sky. The house was still. Jee is scared enough to not want to sleep or be alone, as she plays in the living room under Maddie’s watchful eye. She is still feeling the fire burning like there was more to say. There were decades worth of pain.

“Maddie, we wanted to come down and apologize,” her father begins. And it only douses more gasoline.

“For what? For everything? Never loving your children. Leaving me when I needed my parents to save me?” her phone begins to ring, “Not seeing what was in front of your faces. I wanted to die for 30 years, I almost took my own life last year and you never entered my mind as something to come back for.”

Her phone is incessant. She finally picks it up, “Chimney, I am in the middle of something so this-”

“Maddie, it’s Buck,” she hears the fear in his voice. It’s an echo of Bobby’s last year, “it’s bad. You need to get here fast.”

HEr entire body shakes,

“He was struck by lightning while up on the ladder.”

“Oh god, Buck.”

Her parents raise their heads watching their daughter with scrutiny.

“I’ll get there.”

She hangs up with a shaky finger.

“I, I need to go. I don’t know if I can-”

“We’ll drive you,” her father replies softly.

---

“Your son is in that hospital, dying.” Maddie breaks the drive long silence as she opens the car door her mother still stares blankly forward. Her father gulps but says nothing. She gathers Jee in her arms.

“You can leave her with us.” Margaret says.

“No. If this is her last chance to be with her uncle I am not taking that away from her.” She slams the car door.

She holds her daughter tight to her chest as she walks through the doors. Her legs are still a bit shaky and her eyes trying not to cry too preemptively.

She finds Chimney's eyes immediately in the waiting room. They hold the question with baited breath. And she shakes her head. “It's just the two of us.” she says quietly.

She finds home in his arms for a moment.

“What happened?” she begs, “Why was he up there?”

Chimney clears his throat, “he was finishing up the call, and it started raining and before he could get down the lightning struck him,” Chimney swallows and eyes Eddie who’s sitting with his hands twisted in his lap. “He was hanging, and Eddie, Eddie, went up to get him. But he was up there for a few minutes before we got him down. Maddie, he died up there. We got him back, but he was dead. I thought for a second that Ii was going to have to tell you— that I—“

“Can I see him yet?”

“They’re still getting him set up in a room. Should be soon though,"Bobby replies.

She lets Chimney take Jee completely as she makes her way across the waiting room to Eddie. worry etched deep in his eyes.

“Eddie,” she takes his fidgety hand in her shaky one, “thank you.”

He finally looks at her, lip between his teeth.

“I haven't saved him yet.”

“You gave him one hell of a chance.”

“Maddie,” she hears Chimney say with a new sort of worry in his voice. She looks up and sees her parents standing there, faces still blank.

“No. No you do not get to change your mind. You don’t get to come in here because you know you’ll be judged if you don’t and that is the thing you fear the most isn’t it? Why you hid everything from him? Why we moved. So no, you don’t get to come here for yourselves. To feel better about giving up on him three times. Because you don’t get to start caring now. You are thirty years too late. Fuck you and get out.”

They don’t move.

“This. This is what you will be judged for. It's even worse than if you had just driven off back to Pennsylvania when your son died out there. And you are standing in front of the people who saved him. Brought him back to this world, who put their own lives at risk for his. So shame on you for trying now. You don’t get to anymore. Leave.”

They still don’t move, defiant looks on their faces.

And she glances at Bobby whose face is stoic and focused. He moves between them and her standing to his full height. As she crumbles into Chimney's arms again.

“She told you to get out.” His voice is calm and stoic, laced with anger.

Athena comes back from gathering some coffee and snacks and reads the situation carefully and stands next to her husband raising an eyebrow.

“You heard them. Would you like a police escort?”

They quickly turn on their heels not having said a word in their defense or redemption.

The minutes tick by slowly until a nurse comes and tells them he’s ready for visitors and Maddie takes Jee in her arms and makes her way back, Chimney following close behind.

He looks so vulnerable. Small even.

“Buck! Uncle Buck!” Jee gleefully shouts as she sees him in the bed.

“He's sleeping, baby, be gentle.”

“Uncle Buck sleeping?” Jee says gentler this time and nods, “Good night. Sleep tight. Sweet dreams. I love you. See you in the morning sunshine.” she repeats their nightly chorus softly patting her small hand on his big one.

Chimney takes Jee again and Maddie takes her brother's hand on hers, stroking his knuckles.

“You can’t do this to me Evan. You can’t make me lose both of you. Promise me that?” she hooks her pinky in his limp one, “You come back to me, you hear me?”

[sunfiltersthroughwillowleaves]

might have accidentally written a sky:cotl short story hehe (EDEN SPOILERS!!!)

Styria’s wings pounded, their breathing hard, but they still had the gall to call out behind them, “What’s taking you so long?”

Sairo’s wings beat, taking their sweet time. “I’m not in a hurry.” 

Styria practically died laughing, almost falling out of the sky. “They’re showing off the crowning of Eden today! How can you not be excited?”

Sairo huffed, and another star on their cape depleted as they flew. “I am excited. It’s just… I miss the butterflies.

Styria suddenly stopped flying, closing their wings slightly. “I do too. But they say that the harvesting will make our lives better. That we’ll have more light.”

Sairo sighed, finally catching up to their sibling. “I know. But the rain’s never been so hard. I’m always cold, and I miss having the butterflies in my hands. I don’t like the jars, and it takes so long to convince the butterflies back into them like Eden mandates.”

Styria flew over and landed on the branch of a tree near the Wind Paths. “I know. I miss the whales. They used to come through the forest all the time, and now I hardly ever see them.

Sairo curled up a little bit on the tree. “And is it just me, or does the water hurt a little bit, too?”

Their dark blue cape enveloped their younger sibling, hugging them tightly. “The rain falls harder than it did before. But it’s okay. It’ll get better.”

They began crying. “Kirio hasn’t sent me a message boat in a long time.”

Styria pulled them closer, their warmth mixing softly. “How long is a long time?”

Sairo’s tears couldn’t just be stopped so easily. “It’s been two weeks. Kirio always sends me boats on Saturdays. Tomorrow, it’ll have been three weeks.”

They rocked back and forth atop the tree. “Don’t worry. How is Kirio?”

The younger child’s chest wracked harder with tears. “They hate it in Golden Land. The crabs have gotten really angry. They don’t like to be touched, and if we get near them, they attack. They also have started fearing really loud noises. Kirio’s parents have been doing testing, and they got really hurt when they got attacked. They say it’s because of the harvest.”

Styria’s eyes went wide. “What!? Aren’t Kirio’s parents creature specialists? And crabs are supposed to be friendly. None of the other animals have gotten affected.”

Sairo continued to cry. “I don’t know, Styria. The whales, whenever I see them in the clouds by Golden Land… They don’t greet me anymore. Not even Soraos.”

Styria began to weep with Sairo. “But Soraos is your closest friend! You’ve known it since you were little.”

Sairo pressed their mask into Styria’s shoulder. “I don’t know, Styria. I don’t know. I don’t know.” 

They looked at the sky, and stood. “We have to go. We need to get to the crowning.”

Sairo got up as well, and grasped Styria’s hand as they flew.

They arrived at the crowning, just in time for the eruption.

Ash fell from the sky, rocks pelting them, stronger than the rain at home. Styria’s cape wrapped around Sairo. They cried together, for the great Eye of Eden, named for the glory of its buildings, the things its ruler had achieved that no one had ever before. 

The ruler had discovered how to harvest the light from creatures, to use that light for themselves. 

As rubble collapsed from the sky, as the stars on their backs depleted, as tens of others collapsed, Sairo counted. There were more than fifty who had attended the crowning. More than fifty who would die. Dark creatures that could only be described as dragons patrolled the skies, and a constant rain of red rock fell from the skies. 

The ruler claimed all light in the world for themselves. For the Kingdom of those who resided in the Sky, or for short, the Kingdom of Sky.

“Styria, I’m scared.” Their arms surrounded them, and they hugged them back tightly, clinging on to them like a lifeline.

“Me, too.”

The ruler always celebrated the day of their crowning, because it had been the day that creatures were industrialized. The light gained was distributed everywhere, but the most was brought to Eden, for as grandiose as it was, it could not function without light. More light than could be produced by the children of Sky.

Sairo felt their last cape star depleting. They brought out their red candle, the candle they had had since before they could remember. And, oh light, for the first time in their memory, their candlelight wavered, then died out. They felt, deep in their core, a piece of themself shatter. Stars exploded from their back, their spine arching with pain.

“Sairo!” Their older sibling screamed and screamed and screamed and screamed and screamed. Sairo’s blood spilled, but crystalised the moment it spilt. It happened again, stars flying from their skin, slicing their skin as they flew, and their blood turned to blue crystal, hindering their movement, preventing their escape.

Styria was trapped inside Sairo’s blackened arms, and on their final star.

The ruler sat upon a hill, the entire mountain their throne. Light was fed throughout the mountain for the ruler to gather as they sat, to become more powerful even idly.

Styria’s core shattered. Their hair faded, their shape dissipating, who they were disappearing. The two siblings became two amongst sixty-three others, dying in the Eye of Eden, no face, no distinguishable features. Just two husks of what might have once been siblinghood.

No one, least of all the ruler, expected it when the mountain erupted. Too much light from the wrong places, for the wrong reasons resulted in its corruption. Light in its destructive form.

Light may warm, and light may kill.

On the day of the crowning, light killed.

Light killed sixty-three, to be exact.

Styria and Sairo’s last thoughts were of fear.

They now await you, in the midst of a foreign rain.

They await their reunion with the skies.

[goodnightmemes]

BONES SENTENCE STARTERS / s01e12 - s01e14

❛ Don’t use your charm smile on me. ❜

❛ Every family has its secrets. ❜

❛ Are you a nerd? ❜

❛ Go ahead. Don’t let me stop you from - What are you doing exactly? ❜

❛ You know I gotta tell you, I never bought all that English 101 stuff. Sometimes a river is just a river. ❜

❛ Could you please, maybe just for once try not to piss everyone off around you? ❜

❛ My God, it’s like we lead parallel lives. ❜

❛ You’re just one of those guys who’s way too good at lying. ❜

❛ I’ll see you in the comic books, buster. ❜

❛ So what you’re saying is that reality falls far, far short of the fictional. ❜

❛ I was just using it as an excuse to make conversation and reestablish our connection. ❜

❛ Great, how he’s ignoring us in two languages. ❜

❛ You know that book I’m reading, about getting along with your coworkers? It says that sarcasm is never helpful. I could lend it to you if you want. ❜

❛ Did you hear what I said about sarcasm? ❜

❛ I call shotgun. ❜

❛ I called shotgun. What does it mean to a society when the niceties are no longer observed? ❜

❛ Is anybody here? You don’t have to be afraid. ❜

❛ Of course they’re gonna be afraid, I have a gun. ❜

❛ I am asking you as a favor not to make me do this…to scare her. Please? ❜

❛ Interesting or horrible? Because sometimes, it’s the same thing with you. ❜

❛ Mega tough old bastard. ❜

❛ I’ll tell you what, because I like you so much, if I find out who did it, I’ll kill him. ❜

❛ You think you can intimidate people into doing what you want? ❜

❛ How do you handle someone who isn’t afraid of you? ❜

❛ That’s gonna hurt in the morning. ❜

❛ I know you’re all about self-reliance and fighting your own battles and standing up for yourself, but now, as your friend, and knowing how much you hate psychology here, you need therapy. ❜

❛ Later I found out it was three days. But, I thought it was a week, maybe more. ❜

❛ He came in every day and made me believe I was going to die. ❜

❛ I promised myself if I ever had the chance, I’d get even. ❜

❛ You put a hit out on my partner? ❜

❛ If anything happens to her, I will find you and I will kill you. I won’t think twice. ❜

❛ Come here, look in my eyes. Look at my face. If anything happens to her, I will kill you. ❜

❛ Should I keep talking as though you are paying attention? ❜

❛ The information that I’m about to tell you must not leave this room. ❜

❛ I am philosophically imposed to institutional secrecy in all its forms. ❜

❛ So now politics are more important then murder? ❜

❛ Next time you know, you miss me, pick up the phone, call me, we’ll do lunch or something. ❜

❛ He doesn’t know what it’s like to lose a parent, you do. ❜

❛ You want to back down a jot there buddy? ❜

❛ Well maybe he discovered that being pushy is how you get cops to pay attention. ❜

❛ What are you hawking at me for? ❜

❛ Ugh, you’re so sweet, honey. You really are. ❜

❛ We get it. You’re a rebel. ❜

❛ Yeah, I know at times like these not to get hopeful, but on the other hand you’ve got to have hope. ❜

❛ I’m not really interested in bonding over the loss of my parents. ❜

❛ Ah, good one sir, very droll. ❜

❛ Never. Freeze. On. Me. Again. ❜

❛ Well, I’m never trusting any of us again. We’re that good at lying, huh? ❜

❛ Some people find it harder then others to get over the loss of a loved one. ❜

❛ Either talk loudly enough so I can hear all the way or whisper so I can’t. ❜

❛ No, we are going to keep doing what we are doing behind [name]’s back. ❜

❛ Oh, I’ll do that! Was that overly enthusiastic? ❜

❛ You just want to see what happens when you toss some frozen pig into a wood chipper. ❜

❛ Your primary job is to do what I say, failing that your job is to fool me. You failed to fool me. ❜

❛ I can be vindictive and petty. I will take you down even if it means striking at you through your friends and co-workers. ❜

❛ I know what it’s like not to know what happened. I know how painful that can be. ❜

❛ Even if you don’t believe it, I know your parents are somewhere proud of what you do. ❜

❛ Hey, you know, your people are my people. ❜

[vinum-solis]

noel and mischa animatic/map idea i had bc pandora played Mama by MCR while i was doing dishes and it created in my head

Mama, we all go to hell Mama, we all go to hell I'm writing this letter and wishing you well Mama, we all go to hell

Mischa is writing an angry letter to his mother, angry at his foster parents and sad bc he misses her and hopes she gets better

Oh well now, Mama, we're all gonna die Mama, we're all gonna die Stop asking me questions, I hate to see you cry Mama, we're all gonna die

Noels mother being upset after his father leaves, a young noel confused about the situation and his mother trying to comfort him and shelter him

And when we go don't blame us, yeah We'll let the fires just bathe us, yeah You made us oh so famous; We'll never let you go And when you go don't return to me my love

Mischas mother working, her slowly getting sicker and sicker, finally her on a hospital bed, mischa cried “we’ll never let you go” whilst clinging to her before she sends him away saying to not return

Mama, we're all full of lies Mama, we're meant for the flies And right now they're building a coffin your size Mama, we're all full of lies

They board the Cyclone, pan to all 6 on the coffin line,

Well mother look what the war did to my legs and to my tongue. You should have raised a baby girl I should've been a better son If you could coddle the infection They can amputate at once You should've been I could have been a better son

Noel being upset at being told to tone it down, shows him as Monique, venting via her story and his angst for her then a hint of shame as he tried to tone it back at school muttering “i should have been a better son”

And when we go don't blame us, yeah We'll let the fires just bathe us, yeah You made us oh so famous; We'll never let you go

I honestly dont know what to put here… maybe a Monique skit??

She said, "You ain't no son of mine!" For what you've done they're Gonna find a place for you And just you mind your manners when you go.

Mischa being yelled at and sent to the basement by his foster parents, they are disgusted by his anger and drunkenness

And when you go don't return to me my love, That's right

mischas foster parents having no grief after he died

Mama, we all go to hell Mama, we all go to hell It's really quite pleasant except for the smell Mama, we all go to hell

Them arriving in the afterlife, meeting Karnak

Mama, Mama, Mama, ohhhh Mama, Mama, Mama, ohhhh

Another one idm

And if you would call me a sweetheart I'd maybe then sing you a song

Noel fantasizing about Monique again (maybe a nischa thing if wanted)

But the shit that I've done with this fuck of a gun You would cry out your eyes all night

Angry mischa, missing Talia and regreting the Cyclone

We're damned after all Through fortune and flame we fall And if you can stay then I'll show you the way To return from the ashes you call

We all carry on When our brothers in arms are gone So raise your glass high for tomorrow we die And return from the ashes you call

And i have no clue for the rest of it but im tired and that was my idea

[spinningintheshadows]

290 Song Lyric Prompts

This is months of work, FIVE different "Volumes" (Playlists). I have combined all of my previous Song Lyric Prompts into one post, one list. I hope you enjoy. They are separated by Volume because tumblr yelled at me :)

Playlists:

[Volume One]

[Volume Two]

[Volume Three]

[Volume Four]

[Volume Five]

Volume One

 “Drive this car through the drive thru please”

“Dirty laundry looks good on you”

 “Where’s the dotted line at?”

 “Are there windows in heaven?”

 “Bought you a twelve pack, promised you sushi”

 “I want to take you to a gay bar”

 “I’m in love with the girl I hate”

 “It’s been a while since I’ve felt butterflies”

 “One day you’ll know who you want to be”

 “You ain’t nothing but a prick”

 “You’re not in love with me”

 “I wanna kiss you every minute, every hour, every day”

 “On second thought, forget it, that one turns out kind of cool”

 “Honey, I’ve got real bad news”

 “I heard that rock is dead and cellphones give you cancer”

 “It will be worth it, everything you went through”

 “They’ve never drove through Indiana”

 “You’re my song, my sweet home Alabama”

 “You’ve got so many options, every fish in the sea wants to kiss you”

 “Relationships, I don’t know why, they never work out and they make you cry but the guy who says goodbye to you is out of his mind”

 “My family is dysfunctional but we have a good time killing each other”

 “I fell in love in the back of a cop car”

 “You don’t have to worry”

 “I’m still having nightmares”

 “I flashback to the night in your parents yard when we drank too much and we talked about God”

 “We’re gonna make it if takes all night”

 “She’s my kind of crazy”

 “Who says you can’t go home?”

“Fist fights turn into sex, I wonder what comes next?”

 “If I were a boomerang, I’d turn around and come back to you”

 “It’ll still be two days till I say I’m sorry”

 “Remember when you broke your foot jumping out the second floor?”

 “There’s room for two, six feet under the stars”

 “Oh god, I did the wrong thing to the right girl”

 “When it comes to condoms, put two on”

 “I won’t give up on us”

 “I’m a bit too pop for punk kids, but I’m too punk for the pop kids”

 “We don’t have trouble sleeping”

 “Daddy’s little girl knows how to party”

 “A days worth of bitching goes down the drain when you lay in my bed and pick my brain.

 “Wrong name, my mistake”

42. “Being us feels good to us”

 “It’s not high school, man, you graduated six years ago”

 “A few drinks in, here I go missing you again”

 “There’s something about the way our bedsheets turn religion upside down”

 “And I’ve made mistakes, but you were not one”

 “I swear to god, I never fall in love”

 “I miss the way you breathe, the way you twitch in your sleep. Your smile, your straight teeth and the scars along on your cheeks”

 “When you talk, its in cursive to me. And it’s nicer than anything I’d ever believe about me”

 “I don’t mind if you fuck up my life”

 “Make a man feel rich on minimum wage”

 “You broke my heart and all I got was this t shirt”

 “You ask “When did I first know?” I always knew”

 “You’re kind of hipster, I grew up on punk rock”

 “Made a rebel of a careless man’s careful daughter”

 “And all my friends don’t give a fuck”

 “We’ll talk about how your parents separated and how you don’t want to make the same mistakes as them”

 “Is it really your anxiety that stops you from giving me everything?”

 “Leave your sorrys, grab your car keys.”

 “I’d unfuck you if I could”

 “You say you love me, I know you love me. Love that you love me, baby”

 “I lose my voice when I look at you, can’t make a noise though I’m trying to”

 “Now with my eyes wide open, it’s heaven in your arms”

 “I know that you’re in pain but if we die at the same time does it still scare you?”

 “I can make you laugh ‘til you cry, but she can make your tears dry”

 “I hope a heart only breaks this bad once in a lifetime”

 “I didn't call you back because I was learning to dance”

 “Sometimes I just want to tell you about my day”

 “Yes my fucking nails are painted, what you think I didn’t know?”

 “Mama tried to raise me right, but she couldn’t raise the hell out of me”

 “Dancing in the dark ‘til the sun comes, tangled in the sheets ‘til the days done”

 “I take a drink ‘cause the truth is hard to swallow”

 “Big heads up, that’s a really stupid plan”

 “We used to kiss all night, now it’s just a bar fight”

 ���What’s the point of going out when you could just give me a call”

 “I didn’t know I was broken until I wanted to change”

 “We have something worth remembering”

 “I fell in love with the girl at the rock show”

 “And I just can’t stop thinking of you, wherever you are"

"I never wanna leave this sunset town

Volume Two

“Do you ever get a little bit tired of life?”

“Will you even look back when you think of me?”

“Somebody’s gonna love you. Take all the dark, turn it to light and paint you sky blue”

“They’re judging me, I’m judging you, we ain’t got nothing else to do”

“Don’t wake me up in the middle of the night, because I finally found you”

“I lose my voice when I look at you, can’t make a noise though I’m trying to tell you all the right words”

“If all it is is eight letters, why am I in my own way?”

“If I said I want your body, would you hold it against me?”

“They say don’t go to bed angry but I guess that’s where we are”

“Things you take for granted when you grow up by the beach”

“Go on then, love, and show me your heart, ‘cause you are enough as you are and I’m awestruck”

“Is it really your anxiety that stops you from giving me everything, or do you just not want to?”

“Welcome to the world that we live in. A perfect collision, it’s beat down, it’s broken, it’s bright. Welcome to happiness, sadness, to love and to madness”

“I always hear you on the background laughing, you know I hate it when you’re not around”

“These days you’ve been stuck in my brain, wanna play you over and over again”

“Secrets don’t make friends. We make love and love falls apart”

“Tell me you’re okay, yeah what’s that like? Rose tinted glasses, it must be nice. Doing your best while you die inside”

“I’m happy to see the happy back in your eyes”

“You make it hard to miss this hometown”

“A bad boy seems like a good idea until it’s too late”

“Couldn’t keep running, had to hit rock bottom to know”

“I wanna get back to where we started, to the summer night. You know, you know, you know, you know we got it right”

“I realized you are destined and meant to be mine”

“Keep switching your alibi, stuttering when you reply”

“But fuck, I’m so alone, and really need some help”

“We’re dancing on the edge of anxiety’s ledge and I might fall again”

“If we’re said and done, I know that I shouldn’t say that I still care but I still care”

“I haven’t slept in days but who’s counting”

“So I drown it out like I always do, dancing through our house with the ghost of you”

“Too many bottles of wine, can’t get my ducks in a row”

“Got me panicking, manic, and I can’t get no sleep”

“I’ve got a feeling I don’t get a grip I will slip and fall completely under”

“Some days you start singing’ and you don’t need a reason”

“I need a little more luck than a little bit, cause every time I get stuck the words won’t fit”

“Must be the music that’s got me shaking like an addict”

“I bite my tongue so you don’t hear me”

“I’d unfuck you if I could”

“Here’s to now and nothing else, in the crowd all by yourself. To the hellos and the goodbyes, the lows and every high. In this moment I could die with you.”

“Just watch from a safe place so I never have to lose”

“I don’t really understand this life and why we’re all here.”

“If you need me now, I’ll be there somehow”

“I’m so sick of watching while the minutes pass as I go nowhere”

“Let’s see how far I’ll go now that I’ve lost control”

“If I could go back and erase you from my mind, I’d do it in a second”

“I was so scared of losing you, so I lost myself instead”

“I fell in love, in love with you suddenly.”

“Your heart belongs to someone else and I’m always here to keep you company”

“You say you’re sorry and you want us to fix what’s wrong, but I’d rather dye all my insides blonde”

“These last two years were the worst of my life”

“So hold on tight it’s a fast ride in the end”

Volume Three

“If I knew from the start would it change a thing?”

“You don’t have the time to not make time”

“There’ll be happiness after you but there was happiness because of you”

“You used to make me feel like I could walk on water but now most nights I’m just sinking”

“So go to hell and tell the devil I’m not that far behind”

“I’m trying to keep from going insane, ain’t that the way of this whole damn thing”

“For a minute, I was stone cold sober”

“I wish I could still call you friend”

“I know I deserve what you’re putting me through”

“I’ve been trying hard not lose my breath ever since you left”

“Where did you lose your happiness?”

“You’re the thing that I can’t quit”

“Trying to remember how it feels to have a heartbeat”

“Tell me it’s okay to be happy now”

“I was born but I wasn’t raised”

“I’ll tell you all about it when I see you again”

“Five best friends on four bald tires”

“Even if I knew you’d be the one that got away, I’d still go back and get you”

“Tell me who you were falling for when we were lying on the floor”

“All the greats die young, that’s probably why I’m still alive”

“I never thought we’d make it out”

“I wish we could live here all the time”

“I know that you’re in pain but if we die at the same time, does it still scare you”

“I don’t want to leave this bar until I get your number”

“All that I know is that I just can’t say no to you, funny how things never change”

“I was young and horny.”

“I’d kill for one more way to tell you how you make me better every day”

“How did we end up talking in the first place”

“The weight of the world’s getting harder to hold up”

“There’s a lot more color in the mix when you’re loud and proud out in the sticks”

“Faking smiles and confidence”

“Fight the break of dawn, come tomorrow, tomorrow I’ll be gone”

“Why do I get myself into something I’m not ready for”

“I’d be lying if I tried telling you that you’re not everything that I want”

“It’s bittersweet I can still count on you for something”

“I see you when I close my eyes. I see you like I did that night”

“Tomorrow isn’t promised if the planet falls apart”

“If we get sober, we’ll never get old until we die”

“The tears from your eyes are leaving stains on your shirt, man”

“I ignore all the warning signs, fall for you every time”

“If I think you’re for real, I’m in denial”

“I’m just trying not to lose my shit this time”

“You don’t want to be friends, you’re just horny and fucked up at two am in the morning”

“I’m still young, wasting my youth. I’ll grow up next summer”

“With a full moon and a shitty mood”

“Everything gets fuzzy when you come around”

“I’ll be fine even though I’m not always right”

“We haven’t got time to be putting out fires we didn’t start”

“When you touch me I know there is purpose in my life”

“Maybe someone will save us before we drown”

Volume Four

“Playing fiction in a parking lot, anything to be more than an afterthought”

“Yeah, that’s good to know, wish I knew three years ago”

“I watched you fall away, evade accountability”

“Was I a fool for ever thinking I could get you to stay?”

“If I wake up and I’m still breathing, meet me where the sidewalk ends” 

“Today I called to tell you that I’m changing but I don’t think you have enough respect to see me try”

“Don’t you ever dare call me Vanilla”

“I read your letter, the one you left when you broke into my house”

“Leave it to me to fuck it up without a good reason.” 

“I’m not scared to jump if you want to”

“I’ll keep my secrets inside of my mind, promise I loved you but you roll your eyes”

“Got this bloodstain on my shirt, looking back it doesn’t hurt”

“I don’t mind sleeping all alone, but I’d rather wake up next to you” 

 “I’m always the outcast, I’ll take the blame. The first night you met me, you forgot my name”

 “Like bullets inside my head, you’re drivin’ me insane but there ain’t nothing I would change”

 “I’m at the same dead end, the lonely space in my head”

 “Now we’re at the part where you’ll hate what you see, what the fuck is wrong with me?”

“We’ve got this thing and it’s untouchable. It’s so dirty, pretty, beautiful” 

 “I’m a first class ticket to a fistfight, took a hit to the ribs but I feel just fine.”

“Is this butterflies or nausea? I can’t tell the difference anymore”

 “Tell me what it’s like to be loved by you”

“Baby, I can tell you ain’t easily impressed”

“Like weeds through the concrete cracks, and the flowers by the railroad tracks”

“It’s only been a couple of days and I miss you”

“When you change your mind, I’ll be waiting”

“I only miss you at midnight”

“Remember when you hit the brakes too soon, twenty stitches in a hospital room”

“Mama tried to raise me right but she couldn’t raise the hell out of me”

“So let’s take it back to the basics ‘cause let’s face it, I am on my own”

 “You’d never remember me when you’re pulling on his jeans”

 “I’m over wasting time in life trying to be something I’m not”

 “There’s only one place I wanna be” 

 “Deep dive off the coast of my feelings”

 “I’m glad to say this chapters about to end”

 “And when you touch me like that I get a little attached”

 “I’m single in September when I didn’t want to be”

 “I’m at best your second option”

 “Redefine rock bottom with these empty orange bottles”

 “A sloppy drunk obsessed with his juul”

“The things I’ve learned from a broken mirror, how a face can change when the heart knows fear”

 “I can’t forget the way you looked without your jeans on”

“I’ma treat you right tonight, let’s make it last forever”

“Pushed out of the family tree”

“Guess I think too much, maybe I’m obsessed with universal things like money love and death”

“You love who you love, ain’t nothing you should ever be ashamed of”

“With the boombox blaring as we’re falling in love”

 “I go back to the loss of a real good friend, and the sixteen summers I spent with him”

“There’s a noise complaint from room 304”

“Just shut up and drink your diet soda”

“We had to learn the hard way”

 “All You ever wanted was a part of me that I couldn’t fake”

“Love’s got a funny way of keepin’ score”

 “If the world ends, I hope I’m in my living room with my best friends”

“Baby blue eyes, stay with me by my side ‘til the mornin”

 “I’ll have you know, I’m scared to death”

“Tell yourself it’s never gonna happen again”

     “All the times you said you hate me, baby, I know what it feels like now. Damn it, I’m sorry”

“I would have married you in Vegas had you given me the chance to say I Do”

“Oh well, guess I’ll see you in hell”

“I got one thing to say and that’s thanks for nothing, kiss my ass”

Volume Five

 “Wide awake but it just feels wrong”

“We can fuck about it later if you want”

“I was fighting for my life eight months ago”

“Don’t be fooled, I’m only letting you down”

“Let’s run free and carry on, like we did when we were young”

“But I’m headstrong and stubborn and stuck in my ways”

“I wanna wake up with you and I, I wish we could live here all of the time.”

“I know my love should be celebrated, but you tolerate it”

“I have this thing where I get older but never get wiser”

“I picked the petals, he loves me not”

“There’s always gonna be that one forever thing attached to you and me”

“Moving on isn’t something I regret, but it hard to forget” 

“I don’t want to waste my life without you baby”

“As memories fade, nothing’s the same, guess I better act my age” 

“You’re either with us or you can keep it to yourself”

“They say bad things happen for a reason”

“This could be the end of everything”

“Love me for who I am and who I’m gonna be”

“When we were still changing for the better”

“I’d tell you that I’m scared of turning out a failure”

“It’s safe to say I knew it, yeah, I knew it all along” 

“You can do just what you like tonight”

“Memories I hold to keep safe, and I live for that look on your face”

“Go ahead and take life’s lemons, you can mix them with some top shelf”

“Now we’re at the part where you’ll hate what you see.”

“I’ll go through the walls and kick down doors” 

“I even hate my favorite band, all because of you.”

“You make me feel like  1990 something”

“There’s nothing but broken streetlights, and I’m just trying to escape”

“I know I shouldn’t tell you” 

“Have you ever been alone in a crowded room?”

“Don’t you go and carry on with your life”

“So go to hell and tell the Devil I’m not that far behind” 

“Sex and white lies, handcuffs and alibis”

“So pour me another and kiss me like there’s no tomorrow” 

“Spare me just three last words”

“I still don’t know when I can come home, but I promised I would try”

“I barely know her but she starts to give me butterflies”

“She said she wants me for a lifetime”

“Guess I’m getting used to sleepless nights”

“You look pretty with my heart in the palm of your hand” 

“I thought this was as bad as it gets but I was wrong”

“You don’t wanna love me right now, ‘cause baby, I don’t even like me” 

“Lying isn’t me, so I’ll just be completely honest” 

“This shit should be a sin”

“Part of me’s a saint, but I’ll be a sinner”

“I miss you in the mornings when I see the sun”

“Now those songs we used to sing are just songs I can’t sing anymore”

“I would do anything, anything for you”

“I’d drive her anywhere from here to California” 

[toby-determined]

Day 12: Background NPC - Amanda Determined

“Come ooooon, Toby,” Amanda whined. “You used to be cool! Now you got your desk job and suddenly you forgot how.” 

“Thanks,” he snorted looking up at her from over his laptop, but the rhythmic tapping of his fingers over the keys didn’t stop. “I’m sorry, but I can’t go.”

She groaned, louder and from the gut this time. 

“Why don’t you just go alone?” 

Normally, she would have. Going places alone was an obstacle she had long overcome, much to their mother’s displeasure. But this was different. 

“I’ve already got the ticket,” she told him. Though she knew that wasn’t the only reason, it was just the only one she was willing to confess to. 

“You can sell it.”

“I can’t be bothered to do all that.” 

He shook his head, “I’m sorry your friends bailed on you.” 

“Me, too. And now my brother, my own flesh and blood, my bosom buddy, my ride or die, is also forsaking me. This is exactly why you can’t trust anyone these days,” she sighed to follow her over dramatic performance. 

This time when Toby looked up his fingers had stopped their typing. Amanda forced herself not to smile, knowing she’d gotten the hook in. Now all she had to do was reel him in and she was home free. 

“What day is it again?” 

“Saturday,” she replied. “Starts at 9.” 

“That’s so late.” 

“It is not,” she countered. “It’ll be done by 11, we’ll be home before 12!” 

“That’s only if traffic isn’t-”

“It won’t be. It's their first tour and it’s at a bar, Toby, there’ll be 100 people there, if even that.”

His mouth squished to one side, eyes flickering to his screen and her face. She pressed her palms together and laced her fingers, squeezing. Her lower lip stuck out and she did her best puppy dog eyes. It was always a crowd winner, and while Toby was less susceptible to it than others, it seemed to do the trick as he let out a sigh and leaned back in his chair. 

“Fine.”

“Yes!” she said with a little fist pump. “I knew you’d come around.” 

“But-!” he said, sitting up again and holding up his index finger. “I have a deadline by Sunday. So, that means I’ve got to finish this tonight so I can edit it tomorrow before we go.” 

“Got it,” Amanda was up and on her feet, heading toward the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow! And wear something that’s not what you’re wearing now.” 

“What’s wrong with this?” he asked, looking down at himself. 

Ever since he’d graduated from uni and got the job at the newspaper all he had been wearing was the same get up. A white button down, black tire, and dark trousers with dark shoes. It did it’s job to make him look like nobody, a regular Clark Kent if Superman was a shrimpy little fucker who landed in Australia rather than the US of A, but it wasn’t something you wore to a concert. 

Toby was not the older brother that Amanda had been sold in various movies and television shows. He wasn’t cool and he wasn’t aloof. Her friends didn’t get crushes on him. He didn’t wear a leather jacket, he didn’t tell her who she should and shouldn’t go out with, he didn’t try to control her, and it never felt like he was the golden child who was favored by their parents who could do no wrong. He was what he was, which was a weirdo that she happened to be related to.  

Amanda let her brother be for the remainder of the night and all Saturday morning. She kept her phone on her at all times until he called to tell her that he had finished and sent in his little article. 

She picked him up later that day, laying on the horn until he came scrambling out. He tore open the passenger door and grabbed her arm to pull it off the steering wheel. He’d lost his balance on the curb, foot slipping down and making his body fall into the seat. She cracked up, pony tail hitting against the headrest. She hadn’t been able to see through her tears as he righted himself and got into the car, slamming the door shut after him.

“Will you go?” he asked, sinking down into the seat to peek out from the window. “The neighbors are going to hate me now.” 

The drive to get there was a bit of a task, traffic in the city was always a fucking nightmare, and parking was even worse. But they’d found a spot that Amanda had whipped into before the fucking pick-up could steal it from her. They walked over to the building that was around the block, Amanda pulling the tickets from her purse to get them in the door with little purple paper wristbands. She had to help Toby get his on, having to stand off to the side as they hunched over his wrist. 

Then they were in.

“There is way more than 100 people here,” she pretended she did not hear Toby say as she walked them over to the stage area. It was standing room, obviously, and everyone that was there was mostly crowded up by the front or trying to get a drink order in before the set started. She could feel her boots sticking to the floor as they kicked through plastic bottles and wadded up napkins. 

“How much did you pay for this?” he asked. 

“What does it matter to you? It’s not your money,” she replied, staking their claim on a spot by the wall. She liked having at least one side of her not surrounded by strangers who could potentially be fucking annoying. 

The opening band was fine. They weren’t something that she would seek out again on her own but were entertaining for the moment, the anticipation building up in her stomach. Toby, as she suspected he would be, was sort of the perfect companion. He was quiet when he needed to be and talked when she needed him to, like asking if she wanted water or a drink and bringing them just in time for the actual show to begin. 

It was great. The crowd was a little annoying with their lack of noise control when the band was trying to talk, and at one point someone had to be dragged out the front door when he’d taken a tumble, but other than that, it had been great. The music wasn’t a disappointment live and the girls on stage knew how to put on a show. Amanda was pleasantly toasted by the end of the set, shouting along with everyone else as they asked for an encore. And then the second encore. 

It was over far too soon, honestly. She wanted to live in that moment forever but knew she had to go home at some point. 

She hadn’t even noticed Toby had disappeared during the second encore until he reappeared at her side from behind a couple that were swaying together to the sound of the crowd shuffling into a line for merch. Ugh, she had wanted a shirt but she didn’t want to wait in-

“You still like to wear mediums instead of smalls, don’t you?” Toby asked, holding up a shirt. She blinked then grinned, snatching it from him to shove over her head. Amanda breathed in the absolutely disgusting smell of the room one last time before deflating. 

“Alright,” she sighed. “Let’s go.”

They started out the front door and when she went to go in the direction of her car, Toby caught her by saying her name. She stopped, turning to look at him, thinking maybe he’d forgotten his wallet or something at the table. 

“Where’re you going?” 

Amanda frowned. “The car?”

“...but…don’t you want to meet the band?” 

“What? No, they aren’t even doing a meet and greet.”

Toby snorted. “Come on.”

She did not follow him until he got too far without looking back at her for her to not jog after him. They walked down the street until there was a break in the buildings and they turned down the little alleyway that opened up on a back lot. Presumably where employees of the establishments put their cars and where deliveries came to drop off. There were a few cars there and toward the back was a large bus and truck behind it. 

An open door, stuck that way by a piece of wood sitting at the bottom, had people coming in and out of it. They were dressed in black, pushing black boxes on wheels with silver linings and buckles over to the truck to sit in neat rows. There were other random assortment of bags and boxes sitting in the lot by the car. 

Her eyes widened when she realized what it was and she turned to look at Toby. He was not looking at her though and she blinked at the person walking beside her. She fucking hated when people did this, because after the first 1,000 times it just became a grating joke that made her want to shout No, you’re not fucking original!!! at anyone who said it, but Toby looked…determined. 

She faltered, falling a step behind him when he didn’t stop as they got closer. Amanda figured they were just going to hang out by the bus. There was already a little crowd of people who weren’t doing anything but standing and talking by the nose of the bus, on the side with the door. She clocked their wrists, the purple bands. That’s where they belonged, surely. 

But Toby just kept going. Passed the crowd, passed the boxes, until someone cut in front of him.

“Uh uh,” said the guy. He was security, judging by the thick arms and chiseled jaw. 

“Oh, sorry there, mate!” Toby smiled up at the guy, who towered over both of them. They were both short, gifted by their mother’s genes. “We’re here for Bridget. We’re the cousins.” 

“Who?” asked the security guy. 

Toby made a face, then looked at Amanda like he was confused, too. She was pretty sure she was the most fucking confused out all three of them. He turned back, “Um, Bridget…she plays the drums?” 

“I thought her name was Taylor.” 

“For the opening band,” Toby said, like he was correcting the guy.

Aaaand Amanda had finally caught on to what her brother was trying to do here. She felt sick. It wasn’t that lying was a no-no to her, but she wasn’t big on being embarrassed, avoided it at all costs if she could, that's why she had built up her confidence to be an unmovable object and ability to not give a fuck an unstoppable force. It wasn’t easy to rattle her but the prospect of getting kicked out of the parking lot by this bands crew after trying to lie their way in, with a bunch of fellow fans to bare witness, after having a perfectly good night and knowing the walk of shame passed that crowd would fucking ruin it, she hated this. She hated her brother for doing this to her. Since when did he do shit like this? Or talk like this? Why hadn’t he told her he was going to do this? If she had known she wouldn’t have fucking followed him, she would have left his dumb ass here and driven home.  

She blinked. Suddenly there was someone else there dressed in all black. A woman, with a hoodie and cargo pants, she had a belt with clips and various things attached to it, too. 

“Yeah, no, that’s right,” she said, like she was confirming a question that had been asked of her. Her eyes found Amanda’s for a moment, then looked down to her shirt, before she returned to the conversation that was happening between Toby and the security guard. Amanda tuned back in, too. 

“-ust ask her. She said we were supposed to meet her back here. I mean, it’s fine if not, but I just don’t want her to think we didn’t come.” 

The security guard seemed to consider this, then he glanced to the woman who shrugged. She turned around, going back inside, narrowly avoiding someone who was carrying out a guitar case. Amanda’s eyes followed them as they brought it over to the bus, the doors opening to let them on. When they disappeared inside she refocused and found herself looking at the crowd of fans. They were all looking at her. Amanda quickly whipped back around. 

It took a few minutes. Some very painful minutes, though they did allow Amanda time to think about the ways she could kill her brother. 

“Hey, Garrett!” 

The security guard turned, Amanda leaned to see around his hulking mass to find the woman from before. She was leaning into the doorway, only her shoulders and up were visible as she was trying to stay out of the way of the people moving things still. And, seriously, it was a small ass venue? How much shit could they be carrying out of the place? 

“They’re good,” she said with a nod and thumbs up before disappearing. 

Amanda could not fucking believe it. The security guard led them over to the door, just letting them walk right inside. 

They ducked out of the way of a guy rolling one of those boxes, giving Amanda time to dig her nails into Toby’s arm and ask, “What the fuck! We’re not anyone’s cousins!” 

“Technically we do have-”

“Shut the fuck up,” she hissed before they both kept walking down the hall. “You know what I mean, you idiot! That wasn’t even a good lie! She’s going to know we aren’t-”

“No, she isn’t,” he assured her. “She doesn’t know what we look like.” 

“Does she even have cousins coming?” 

“Yeah, but we’ll be gone by the time they get here.” 

“How do you-”

“Come on,” he cut her off, leading her into a room. The walls and ceiling were covered with stickers. There was couches along the right and back walls. The left had a table with a bunch of snacks on it, and the front by the door sat a large mirror with bright lights. The table below it had a few little bags that Amanda recognized to be for make-up and toiletries. She had one herself, though not as cute as the ones sitting, opened and spilled out on the table. 

The band was in this room, all of them lounging on the various couches with food and water, talking excitedly to one another, before one of them noticed the two of them standing there. 

Amanda blushed furiously, eyes darting to Toby, waiting to see what he’d do. 

“Hi! Layne told me it’d be a good time?” 

“Uh…” said Cierra, the bass player. “...for what?” 

“The interview!” Toby said. He smiled and gestured to Amanda, who could only wave at the girls at this point. They all glanced at one another, waiting to see if the other knew something they didn’t. When no one seemed to know what was going on, they all looked back to Toby. His smile dimmed a little and then he tried again. He bumbled about to pat at his pockets, starting with his jacket and then his pants until was pulling out his stupid newspaper card to show them, “Uh, sorry, I…I’m from a local paper? The Yowie Mail. We contacted your manager and she said you’d all agreed to do an interview with a fan from the area. She just let us in.” 

“Did she tell you?” Frankie, the singer, asked their drum player, Dawn, who only shrugged and shook her head. No one else confirmed nor denied. 

“Oh, I’m- I’m so sorry,” Toby said, he looked at Amanda then back to the band, “We can wait while you confirm if you’d like?” 

“Yeah, uh- oh, hey! Layne!” Frankie stood, waving a hand. In the door, the woman from the back door stopped again, hand on the door frame pulling her back into view. “Did you just let these guys in?” 

“What?” the woman asked, then looked to Toby and Amanda. Toby smiled and waved at her. And she nodded, “Oh, yeah.” 

“Oh. Okay,” Frankie said. “Did-”

“Sorry, I need to- hey! Don! Don’t lift that!” she shouted and then was gone. 

Amanda looked back to the band, who seemed to be holding a silent conversation with one another as to whether or not they were going to do this. After a moment, they all looked over at Toby and Amanda. “Okay! We have a while before we can leave anyway. Come and sit!” 

And they did. 

It was actually pretty cool after Amanda managed to get over the hump of the initial awkwardness and mind fuck that had gotten them in the door. She kept waiting for the manager or the security guard to come in, pick them up, and toss them out on their asses. But they never did. Amanda got to ask all the questions she could think of, which was hard to do on the spot, but Toby stepped in when she had stuttered too much. It hadn’t taken her long to get comfortable, though. She wasn’t the kind of person who sat in the formal pleasantries, she liked conversations. 

Pretty soon the interview fell away into a hangout session and then Toby was standing and saying they’d better be on their way. Amanda hadn’t wanted to leave, had started to protest, but then saw the meaningful look on his face. Oop. Yep. Gotta go. 

She waved goodbye to the girls. 

“Wait!” Frankie said. “Can we sign something for you or anything?” 

“Oh,” Amanda blinked. “I don’t have…”

“What about your shirt?” Toby suggested. 

“Ooo! Yeah!” the band cooed in agreement. 

All the girls got up, using a marker that was on one of the tables for labeling the drink cups, and one by one signed a spot on the shirt. She thanked them, even getting a hug from Frankie, and then left with Toby. Out the back, passed the little group of fans, out the alley, and back onto the street until they got to the car. 

She sat in her seat for a minute before asking, again, “What the fuck?” 

“Jeez, it’s already 1:30?” Toby replied, leaning his seat back a little. “I’m getting too old to stay up this late anymore.” 

“Toby! Shut the fuck up about the time!” she said, punching him in the shoulder. He flinched away. 

“Ow!”

“What the fuck was that?” 

“I thought you wanted to meet the band!” 

“I-! I mean-!” her mouth worked to get all her thoughts that were smashing together but couldn’t get them to be coherent until she closed her eyes and took a breath. “Okay, I am going to ask a question and you’re going to answer it.”

“Right.”

“How the fuck did you know who Bridget was and that she had cousins?” 

“I’d gone to get you that drink after her band played,” Toby said. “And she was next to me, talking to the bar manager about how her cousins were coming and if they did before the show was done, to tell them to come see her. Then, when I was getting your shirt, she was asking if they’d seen them and they said no. So then she said to tell them to come around to the back. I figured, since they didn’t make it to the show, they probably weren’t coming at all.” 

“You figured,” she repeated then shook that off. “Okay. So, then, the manager? How did you know her name?” 

“I didn’t,” shrugged Toby. “Just got the drummer’s from-”

“No, no! I mean the band’s manager.”

“The security guard,” he said, looking at her funny. “He’d said it when we were talking to him?” 

“Oh,” Amanda frowned. It must have been when she was freaking the fuck out. “How did you know the interview thing would work? Like, what if she’d actually stuck around for them to ask about it?” 

“I didn’t. Just sorta hoped she’d be too busy dealing with the bad hired help to pay us much mind.”

“Fuck,” she sighed, finally sitting back in her seat to absorb all of this. “Fuck.” 

“Did you not want to meet them?”

“No, I-! That was great,” she said, smiling to herself as she remembered bits of the conversation. “It was really nice. I just…how the fuck did you learn to lie so well? You can barely keep a straight face when you tell mum that dad didn’t eat her leftovers.” 

“That’s different. That’s mum. And this was for you. Plus, now I have a story to pitch to my editor on Monday.” 

“Story?” 

“About the band! I have to make sure they see an article with their interview, don’t I?” 

Amanda looked over at him. He was slumped against the door, arms crossed over his chest. He sort of reminded her of their dad when he got to the couch, out like a light as soon as he turned on the tv after a long day of work. 

“Right,” she smiled and then patted his shoulder. 

“Ow,” he whined.  Yeah, Toby wasn’t the typical older brother, but he was her brother.

[thenexusofsouls]

Stephen was too hard on himself, Mantis thought. Doctors were supposed to be rigorous, so maybe that was why. Or maybe not. As he explained all that had been lost after Thanos’ victory, she felt her throat constrict. “It does not mean you failed. You did everything in your power, including putting your sanity at risk to see millions of outcomes. You said we only won in one, and maybe you didn’t know Natasha would give her life, but you knew Tony would die, didn’t you? You didn’t give Thanos the Time Stone. You traded it for Tony’s life.” He was twisting reality to fit his narrative; a narrative that only hurt him. “You can convince yourself it’s all your fault, but not the rest of us who were also there.” Maybe he had not seen them with how far his head was up his ass - a disturbing expression that haunted Mantis long after she learned it wasn’t literal - since the way he would insist he was always the problem was a different kind of self-centered behavior. But she doubted he needed to hear that. Not like Stephen could hear her with his head up his ass, anyway.

But then he mentioned his sister and how she was the first person he tried to protect but couldn’t, and the empath widened her eyes. Her heart ached, and she silently looked down, her hands clenched together in front of her body. That seemed to explain a lot of his constant sense of guilt and self-loathing. Mantis wanted to ask questions. What was her name? What was she like? What happened? He probably had been very attached to his sister. It wasn’t usual for parents to murder their young before attachments could be formed like Ego did.

She knew he meant well when he explained why some families were different, but… Mantis never considered Ego her family. Yes, he was her father. And yes, he raised her. So what? She didn’t love him. She did when she was a child, until she stumbled upon his caverns. He never saw her as a daughter; he saw her as a means to an end. “I know there are many types of families,” she replied. “I know who my family are. They call themselves the Guardians of the Galaxy.”

Mantis wasn’t sure why she had hugged him. Maybe she needed that. Maybe he needed that. Probably both. Something her powers taught her was that people often needed reassurance and affection more than they showed; more than they knew. Not all, of course. Some creatures hated being touched, including some humans. But some others just needed to be held. And Mantis gave others the hug she needed from Ego growing up. A hug that never came. He was so obsessed with the Expansion; with himself. It was in his nature. It was in his name.

“Maybe you should hug others more often…” Mantis suggested. She didn’t think he would hug her back, but he did. “You can enjoy affection in a simple manner. I envy that. To enjoy touch for what it is, without learning too much about the other person… Must be wonderful.” She wished she could have that. She wanted to share a hug as nothing more than a hug; no getting inside people’s heads. But she would always know more. Something to be enjoyed in a casual manner like affection… wasn’t for her. It would always hurt, because everybody was hurting.

She tried to hold Brumbin’s arm. He was feeling fine… thanks to her powers, but he was feeling fine. The empath smiled at his confusion. “We’re sad because Thanos was messed up. He’s the reason why you’re here now. Don’t worry, we’ll help you reunite with your friends,” she reassured him. “Just stay near, okay? Um, do you recall what you were doing before your arrival? If you do, please tell us.”

She didn’t blame Stephen for being changed by those millions of futures. What she said was true; that would change anyone. The feathery tips of her antennae twitched as Strange seemed to clarify what he meant… except he didn’t clarify shit, as Rocket would say. “So… you’re saying there is a better version of me out there… and therefore, a worse one too.” Mantis stood still, her eyes pensively fixated on the floor. “I… I am happy to be average. I hope I remain average.”

The empath then blinked and lifted her eyes. “I could calm it,” she mentioned, speaking quietly. “Your mind. You as a whole. Like I helped calm Brumbin. It really can’t be good for anyone to go through millions of timelines. That kind of thing must be awfully bad for the mind and the soul. You are strong, but you don’t have to endure such torment alone.” Mantis looked down, wringing her hands. “I know it’s… an idea that might scare you. But think about it; the clearer your head is, the more efficiently you will work and the sooner you’ll be able to send this big guy back home.” She looked over at Brumbin and smiled. “Do you want to go home?”

__________

{With his head up his ass…! Hahahaha, I love Mantis so much. Her thoughts swirling around in her head are always a wild ride to read and I’m always so here for it. You write her so well, it’s so entertaining. =)}

“Well. My sanity verses the stability of the entire universe… That’s not really a choice,” he said mater-of-factly, as if any rational human being - or other being - would naturally have come to the same conclusion. He didn’t realize at all how much he was revealing about his own character simply by making such a statement, because in his mind it was so completely obvious. His eyes fell, though, at the mention of Natasha and Tony. “Yeah, I… I knew about Tony,” he said with rather subdued energy. Despite not always getting along with the man, Stephen did respect him, and he really did wish there had been another way. But there just wasn’t. In every possible future in which Tony survived… Thanos won. Permanently. “I traded the stone so he could die later in the way he needed to in order to save everyone else and restore life to the universe, yes,” he clarified. Saying that he saved Tony’s life wasn’t just an oversimplification, it simply wasn’t true.

The way Mantis got quiet and didn’t respond to his inappropriate oversharing about Donna only made Stephen internally chastise himself even more. She doesn’t care, no one cares, stop making this about you! He couldn’t not make things about himself, though and that frustrated him even more. He knew others didn’t care, because humans and other beings were inherently selfish in his experience, and yet he couldn’t stop making everything about him. There was that arrogance again, that made him think he could do anything as a surgeon. That he was god. There was that arrogance that refused to bow even as he made an ass of himself trying to learn magic. There was that arrogance that drove Christine away and was the reason he was alone right now, without a family. But if there was one thing Stephen was good at, it was mulling over his own thoughts while still somehow listening to others speaking around him, so as Mantis’ words about having a family in the Guardians registered, Stephen nodded, his gaze falling with pensive envy. “I’m glad you have one,” was all he said.

“Yeah, I uh…” He chuckled cynically. “I really don’t think that would be appreciated.” If he ever tried to hug Wong, Stephen felt he’d probably be yeeted to some storage dimension until Wong properly recovered. It’d probably be exceedingly dusty. But it might have that nice old book smell, so there’s that. Anyway, given how he’d established himself as someone who was rather closed off emotionally despite having a well-practiced sense of humor, he doubted anyone would take a hug from him as anything other than uncomfortably odd. “I don’t really have time to enjoy affection. It’s just not a good use of my time,” he said dismissively. What that translated into, in the convoluted code of Strangespeak, was that it was easier to accept being alone and live without things like affection than it was to have trickles here and there and feel the pain of hope. Stephen would rather be cold all the time than to know warmth only two percent of the time. Reject that two percent, and now one starts to forget how it feels to be warm, and there was emotional predictability and stability in that. The same applied to affection. Better to never be touched than to feel a flood of emotion the few times he actually was.

Her own predicament did not go unnoticed, though. “What if I could make you an item that would help suppress your powers? Like a ring or a pendant, for example. Something you could take on and off, so you’d still have access to your powers whenever you needed them, but… in cases like this where you’d rather not be gleaning all sorts of things from others, you can have a nice quiet mind for once. I could look into making something like that for you, if you were interested.” It was the least he could do for everything Mantis had done to help with averting a universal apocalypse. And… for her kindness to him.

Brumbin waited while the smaller creatures apparently worked something out. When he was asked if he remembered what he had been doing at the time he was taken from his world and brought into this one, he nodded enthusiastically. In his own language, he began to explain, complete with hand movements… of his many hands.

“He… says he was hunting for food for his mate and three cubs when there was some sort of disturbance in the sky,” Stephen translated, even though Mantis seemed to understand Brumbin well enough. “Weird colors, he says, and swirling clouds. There was a lot of lightning and so he shielded his eyes, but when he uncovered them, he was here.” It bothered him a little to hear that Brumbin had a family. What he’d been assuming was a rather stupid, lumbering creature from another universe was actually likely being missed right now.

Brumbin then sighed heavily and a little dejectedly. Sadness was beginning to creep in. He had to get home to his family! When Mantis asked him if he wanted to go back home, another emphatic nod was Brumbin’s reply.

Stephen didn’t really like the idea of his mind being messed with, but she had a point. He was having trouble focusing today, and if she could do something that would help that focus and get Brumbin out of this universe and back to his own before his presence destabilized the integrity of their respective universes, maybe he should accept that help. “Okay, fine. But no poking around in my head any more than you have to. And… make it temporary. Just… for a short while. I don’t want to make this kindof thing a habit.” Why? Because just erasing all that pain seemed akin to devaluing and invalidating the pain of everyone he’d observed in all those realities, and that seemed really wrong to him. The only one who knew any of those things ever happened - or could ever have happened - was him. If he forgot, then all that suffering happened for nothing. It would be meaningless, in a way, and he had a big problem with letting that happen.

[vforvadersbitches]

I wince, “I am sorry you had to see that, bubs.” I nod and gently take the letter, “go take a nap, yeah? I’ll see you tomorrow.” I give him a smile before breaking open the seal to read the letter.

My nose burns with my tears as I read through how lonely he is, my hand rubbing Juliet’s back all the while. I wince at the stain of blood along the side of the letter.

He just wants us with us. Maybe I could help him if I was there. Maybe not be fully light again, maybe not, but close enough that he could be a good ruler. Ruling in both fear and love. Kind of like Yoda.

I rip one of my pages in two two write back since I don’t know how many more letters I’ll need. Maybe he won’t be able to find me right away so we’ll need to exchange more.

Ben,

Please excuse the ripped page, I made the edge as pretty as I could. I don’t know how many letters we’ll be exchanging and resources are pretty slim… for a prisoner. You see now why I cannot come? You felt me ‘die’ because I have a binder on.

Zip is my only friend, he’s also the only one that has agreed to smuggle me things in and out. He’s a good kid. Mind feeding him this next trip? Rations are shit here and he’s never had mashed potatoes. You make the best mashed potatoes. The Empire killed his three sisters and parents, but it was droids so no fault of your own. Even he thinks that. He hates droids now, though. I want him to go to Mandalore. He deserves a family like Mandalorians. Maybe when I get out I’ll take him there. I think he’s lying about his age, he’s too small for fourteen. Maybe twelve or eleven. Jafan would take him.

Juliet smiled her first smile yesterday. I was singing a lullaby, so I’m definitely taking all of the credit, of course. I want her to smile at you, though.

Zip says it was a bad day for you and I’d have to agree based off of your letter. I’m sorry. I want you to know the second I get out I’m coming to your side. I do not stay away from you because I want to. I love you. I want Juliet to have her father. Never really wanted to be a single mom and not gonna lie, dude, it’s kinda shit. I’m tired as hell.

Gonna have to cut this letter off here, running out of page even writing tiny and front to back. I love you. Be well. Get three heating blankets and meditate before bed.

Your wife,

Lili

Ps. I call her Jude, think it’s cute?

Zip waits for a few hours again after delivering the letter before he returns to Virgil's office, pausing at the pure rage on the man's face as he still holds your letter.

"Uh... E-Emperor sir?" he breathes, "Is- Is everything okay?"

"Sit, Zip." Virgil gestures. "You are not in trouble- please, just sit."

Zip gulps and moves over, slowly sitting across from him. "What... is it, sir?"

Virgil carefully sets the letter down and gets out two platter containers, pulling out a plate of food for each of them and handing Zip's over. "I want you to sit, relax, and eat. Eat slowly. Just enjoy it. Nobody's going to take it from you."

Zip studies the food and then slowly grabs the fork Virgil holds out, taking a careful bite of potatoes- and humming at the flavor.

"Lili tells me... you are her friend," Virgil starts, watching this poor, thin-as-a-rail kid scarf down his food anyway, "I thank you, for looking out for her. She means more to me than anyone could ever know. Which is why... I need you to tell me everything you know, Zip."

Zip straightens, "I- I can't-"

"Yes you can," Virgil nods slowly. "And you must. She is in danger there. Every single day. I want to go get her."

"I'll be in so much trouble-"

"Zip." Virgil tilts his head. "I will protect you. She has a plan to take you out of there with her- you will not be left behind. That is a promise."

Zip sighs softly and takes a deep breath, setting his fork down so he isn't tempted to eat while telling Virgil the whole story, holding absolutely nothing back.

Virgil sends him home that night with two platters more of food- one for him again and one for you, too.

And that night, when Zip returns home, he sits next to you on your bed and carefully unpacks the platters from his backpack. "He is coming," he says quietly, praying nobody hears. "He- He knows where we are. I told him everything."

[fuck-customers]

Since I work in an ER now, and these issues come up frequently, I’m here to give you all some tips on how to make your ER visit easier for you and everyone else

(This is partly meant to be funny and partly meant to get some venting out, but I do have some things that I think are genuinely good information, so hopefully everyone who reads this gets something out of it)

1. Do not bring a bunch of people with you to the ER. Not only can we not let everyone in, but it’s just annoying to have a bunch of other people taking up room in the waiting area. My hospital has certain rules about how many people can come in and stay with you in the ER at one time, partly due to Covid, and partly due to the fact that our rooms are small and nurses/doctors need to get in and out of there often. Unless you’re literally about to die, most times we can only let in two people at once, and even that’s usually only reserved for underage patients who’s parents want to be with them. In many cases we only allow one visitor back at a time, and then if your other visitors want to see you we have to make you switch out back and forth. So having like two people with you is fine, but you absolutely do not need your entire family/friend list to come see you

2. If you are waiting to visit a patient, please be quiet and respectful in the waiting area. No one wants to hear you being loud talking to your friends/family, or playing videos on your phone, or what have you. Everyone in the waiting room is there because someone they care about is sick/hurt in the ER. No one is having a good time. Just be nice.

3. Some hospitals still require patients/guests to wear masks inside the building, which means the employees have to ask you to put on a mask. I promise we’re not doing it to annoy you, and we hate asking you even more because we know some people get really upset and aggressive about not wanting to wear one. Just put one on. You can take it off when you’re in the ER room, we mostly just want you to wear it when walking around halls and such, since hospitals can have all kinds of things floating around that could make you sick (regardless of how much we clean, which we do after every patient, that’s just how hospitals are since we deal with sick people every day in small quarters).

4. We cannot give out any patient information over the phone!! This is a huge HIPAA violation, and we need to be super careful about patient privacy. Often the most we can do is tell you if a person is currently in our facility, and we can only do that after you give us their full name. If you need to reach someone or ask them questions about their care you should always try to contact them personally first.

5. Similarly, we cannot give out medical advice over the phone. If you call to ask about what to do because x happened to you, we will simply tell you that if you feel it’s severe enough then you should come in. We can’t advise how to treat, we can’t tell you what we think you should do, nothing.

6. Listen, we can’t say anything to you about this, but as some friendly advice: stop coming to the ER for non-emergency situations. You should try everything possible that you can at home before coming to an ER. For example, if you have sinus pressure and you’re not sure if it’s an infection, or allergies, or a cold, you should probably try some allergy pills or cold medicine first. Did you test positive for Covid and now you feel sick? Unfortunately that’s what happens when you have Covid, stay hydrated and rest and stay home, because we can’t do anything for you. Stomach hurts? You might be constipated, try taking some stool softener and a laxative because that’s what we’ll do for you in the ER, except you’ll have a huge bill attached for it. I’m not saying this to be mean or rude or belittle anyone. Just saying to please remember that hospitals have limited space and cost a lot of money. If you’re coming in because you stubbed your toe you could be taking a space from someone who really needs it, and even with insurance you may still have to meet a deductible or pay copays.

7. All of the above being said, if something is seriously wrong then absolutely come to the ER. Are you having chest pains that you’ve never had before? Come in. Does your abdomen feel like someone shot you? Come in. Were you in a vehicle accident? Come in, even if you don’t think the accident was that serious. It’s better to be safe than sorry, and if you need us then we are here to help you.

8. An ER is not a replacement for regular medical care with a standard provider. Trust me, I know not everyone can afford to regularly go to see a doctor and get preventative treatment. But in some cases there really isn’t anything we can do to help. If you’ve had a long term problem that requires continuing care, then we can’t do much aside from treat immediate symptoms. If you need ongoing medications we aren’t able to prescribe them for you for as long as you might need. We’ll do everything we can for you while you’re here, but sometimes our scope of assistance is limited.

9. We will have to ask you questions, some of which may be uncomfortable for you to answer. We’re not trying to embarrass you, simply trying to get as much info as possible to help you properly. No one is judging you when you come in here. Personally, I always try to keep my tone light when having to ask a sensitive question, and I know a lot of the nurses do the same, but sometimes tone doesn’t come across well. Just answer honestly and it’ll be over soon. (This also goes for illegal activity, such as taking drugs; we’re not going to report you or anything, we just need to know because if we need to give you something it could negatively interact with whatever you took and harm you)

10. Don’t be coming to visit people in the hospital (meaning people who are inpatients and may be on the regular hospital floor for a while) past 10pm. Some hospitals have rules about when people can visit, but mine doesn’t really seem to care. But just because we don’t have rules in place for visiting hours doesn’t mean we want you around super late with patients. Not only can it bother other patients on the floor who are trying to rest, but as the clerk it’s my job to take you down to the floor and let you in, and that prevents me from watching my station in case someone needs to check in. Also I have chronic pain, it’s hard for me to walk around, I do not want to take your ass down to the floor for you to visit someone at fuckin 2am (that’s just me venting though)

11. If you are going to visit someone, and you have seen that I, the clerk, have to leave my station and walk you to the floor and let you in with my badge, DO NOT KEEP LEAVING AND COMING BACK EVERY TEN MINUTES. In fact, don’t leave and come back more than like one time, period. If you leave once to get food for yourself/the patient, or need to get some stuff for the patient from their house, or whatever, that’s fine and we understand. But if your ass is walking out two or three times an hour and I gotta keep letting you in, it’s fucking annoying. Be respectful to the employees, I have more things to do than just walk you around the hospital.

12. I get asked this a lot, so I figure it’s good to mention here in case anyone needs the clarification. There is a difference between Urgent Care and Emergency Room. In the UC you’ll typically have less wait time than in an ER, and usually your bill will be much lower. However, a UC also has limited abilities of what they can do for you versus an ER. Small things like X-rays, labs, splints, etc. can be done in the UC. But for more serious things, like severe bone breaks, sharp chest/abdominal pains, and certain types of lacerations you need to come to an ER because we have more resources to treat those things, like CT and MRI machines, EKG readers, etc. You can always try a UC before an ER to see what your next course of action should be.

13. Almost all hospitals have a case worker to help you with social services. Are you suicidal? Do you want to get into rehab or addiction counseling? Our case workers can help you with those things! They can often help set up appointments for you with therapists and rehab centers, and there are even times where they can help you get rides home, or get to a safe area if you’re in danger. Never be afraid to ask for a case manager, they are there specifically to help you

14. Most hospitals also have financial advisors who can help with medical bills. Our hospital specifically has someone who can help you apply for financial aid, or assist in applying for state insurance and backdating it to cover your recent appointment. These financial advisors can also help you get your bill lowered and/or set up payment plans. Medical bills can be scary, but they don’t have to be! Always ask for financial help if you need it.

15. Last one (at least for now), this is just something I get angry about: STOP CALLING AMBULANCES BECAUSE YOU SEE SOMEONE ASLEEP ON A BENCH OR THE GRASS OR WHATEVER. Homeless people exist. They can’t always find a safe, comfortable place to sleep, so they may just plunk down in a park on the grass for a while, or try to stretch out on a bench. Sometimes people get drunk and just pass out somewhere. They don’t need to be embarrassed by having ambulances and police called on them just for sleeping. If the person is breathing and you don’t see any blood anywhere then they’re probably fine. And yes, they can refuse treatment from the ambulance, but it’s still jarring and embarrassing for them, and then they have to find somewhere else to rest (if that’s what they’re doing).

Sorry this was so long, a lot of this was just me being annoyed, but like I said I think some of this is genuinely helpful info and I hope it gave y’all some insight into the ER world

[scuttling]

Happy Accidents

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 6,300 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Art, Neighbor Hotch, Shy and Oblivious Hotch, Flirting, It's soo sappy I'm sorry, Oral sex, Unprotected sex Summary: Aaron's new neighbor is out of his league for so many reasons: she's young, beautiful, artistic, unique, free-spirited, the kind of person who turns heads when she walks down the street. It's no wonder he ends up falling in love with her. *Requested by anon Link to A03 or read below! Against all of his better judgement, Aaron is kind of creeping on his new next door neighbor.

He is absolutely the type of man, any other time, to approach a woman he’s interested in and introduce himself, look for a way to connect, some common ground, but this is no ordinary woman.

She is out of his league in so many ways: young, beautiful, unique, free-spirited, the type of person who turns heads when she walks down the street. There’s not a chance in hell she would look twice at an old, stuffy, monotone suit with a seven year old son and perpetual bags under his eyes. That’s not him feeling bad about himself, it’s just the way the world works.

The first time he saw her, she was getting on the elevator while he was getting off of it, and they’d bumped into each other; she was wearing a short, flowy dress, and she’d smiled at him, apologized, eyes sparkling, smelling like she’d spent all day in the sunshine. It was the only time since Haley he’d ever entertained the idea of love at first sight.

She keeps to herself most of the time, gives off the air of being really cool and mysterious; their paths have crossed a few times since then—at the bank of mailboxes downstairs, in the hallway they share, once during a false alarm fire alarm—but he enjoys watching her paint more than anything.

They have balconies next to each other, and one night when he was tending to his herb garden—Jack enjoys watching the plants grow, and picking the herbs, Aaron likes to eat them—he spotted her standing on hers, facing away from him, in cut off jean shorts and a baggy t-shirt, barefoot. She’d been painting the city, the sky, with the sunset glowing behind her like she was the work of art, and he actually felt an ache in his chest, the feeling of missing someone he’s never really met.

Since that night, he’s started taking his work outside in the evenings after Jack goes to bed, and sitting in near silence while she paints, hums—sometimes songs he knows, sometimes songs he doesn’t. The first time he goes out before she does, she says hello when she drags her easel out, so he starts to say hello to her when she beats him there, too, but that’s pretty much the extent of their interaction. One evening when Aaron and Jack are getting home from dinner, she is lugging a canvas bigger than she is through the hallway and Jack almost runs headfirst into it; when he looks up, he exclaims about how big it is, and pretty—it’s covered with colors, something abstract and cheerful, and even if he’d seen it on the side of the road, he would have just known that she painted it. (That may be a good indicator that he’s getting in a little too deep.)

“Wow, that’s the biggest painting I’ve ever seen! And so many colors,” Jack says, awed. Aaron puts his hands on his shoulders to keep him out of her way; they’re already bothering her enough, when she’s clearly trying to get that giant thing home.

“It’s pretty cool, isn’t it? I carry bigger pieces around at my studio, believe it or not,” she says to him, poking her head around the side to look at him.

“You have a studio?” His eyes are wide with interest; his favorite subject has always been art, as evidenced by their refrigerator, which is covered in drawings. She offers him an even brighter smile.

“I do! It’s not far from here; it’s called Live in Color. There’s a big rainbow painted on the side.”

“That’s so cool; it must be awesome to have your own studio.” Aaron loves that Jack seems to be so passionate about this, but the way they are obviously holding her up has him feeling awkward; he tugs gently on Jack’s backpack.

“That is really cool, bud, but we should let her go. I’m sure that’s heavy.” She smiles, shrugs.

“It’s no trouble. Hey, actually, we have some children’s art classes at the studio, and you look like you’d fit right in with the Green group—ages 7-9?” She looks up at Aaron, who nods. “Maybe we can talk dad into bringing you down sometime. We do painting, drawing, and crafts, it’s really fun.” She’s still looking right at Aaron, gives him a little wink, and he swears to god he gets butterflies in his stomach.

He’s a grown man. A federal agent. With butterflies. It’s insane.

“Oh man, dad, please? Can I take classes at her studio pleeease?” Jack tugs on the sleeve of his suit, and he nods, smiles down at him.

“Yeah, absolutely, Jack. We’ll go down and get more information tomorrow?” he offers, to both placate him and finally free the poor girl from the conversation; he nods excitedly, and she smiles, looks sweet, genuinely happy Jack is so excited to take the class.

“Cool, I look forward to seeing you guys there. Actually, if you give me one sec, I can grab my card for you.” She passes them, carrying the canvas and looking effortless while she does it; she props it up against the wall to get her keys out, unlocks her door and heads in, pops back out with a business card in a vivid watercolor yellow. “It has the address and phone number for the studio on the front, and I put my cell on the back; I figured it couldn’t hurt, considering we live next door to each other. Now you know who to call if you ever have an art emergency.”

He takes the card from her fingers, flips it over just to see the handwritten name and number; he knew her script would be lovely, and it is, easy and flowing and natural. It suits her. He tries not to grin, or flush, or otherwise be awkward about the fact that she just gave him her phone number, however innocently.

“Thank you. We’ll see you tomorrow.” They turn to head for their apartment, and she clears her throat; he smiles a little, turns back, and she’s leaning casually up against the canvas with her arms crossed.

“You know my name now. What’s yours?” She’s just being polite, but he gets the goddamn butterflies again.

“Aaron.” She smiles, something beautiful and a little wild.

“Okay, Aaron. See you outside.” From then on, most of their free time, be it evenings or weekends, is spent at the studio. Aaron isn’t the only parent who sticks around—it’s an art class, not a daycare, he doesn’t feel right just dropping Jack off and leaving him there—and he’s also not the only parent, it seems, who is aware of his beautiful young neighbor.

“She’s incredible, right?” another dad says to him one evening, over by the coffee. Aaron looks him over briefly—it’s a job hazard, he sizes up everyone, but he already has a weird feeling about this guy. “I’ve been bringing my kid here for a month just to look at that little ass running around. My wife just thinks our daughter is just really into art.” He says it with a laugh, like that’s a ridiculous concept. Aaron feels himself start to boil.

“You shouldn’t be disrespectful. She’s doing a great thing here, for the children; she’s not doing it for you to ogle her.” He feels a little hypocritical, because he is also looking, but not like this guy. He knows guys like this. He puts away guys like this.

He glances over at Aaron, looking a little taken aback that someone actually commented on his behavior, then rolls his eyes.

“She doesn’t need you to defend her honor, buddy. She wouldn’t run around here in those overalls if she didn’t want us looking. It’s job security.” She’s wearing the overalls tonight, denim shorts with one of the straps unhooked, a t-shirt underneath, but it’s not as if she’s performing a striptease. She just looks like an artist, covered in drips of paint, smiling as she looks at the kids’ pictures over their shoulders. Aaron really, really hates this guy.

“In my experience, women usually dress for themselves; they probably have pockets, easier to keep things at hand that she may need, and it’s warm in here, so she’s likely dressing for comfort. She’s certainly not dressing for you.”

As if she can sense the tension, she looks over at them, flicks her eyes over Aaron, then the other guy, and walks over with a soft smile on her face.

“Hey, Aaron, Jack really wanted you to see what he’s working on.” She reaches out a hand, wraps it around his wrist and guides him over to Jack’s table. “I figured I’d save you,” she says when they’re out of earshot. “That guy sucks. He’s always saying creepy things to me and Alaina.”

“You should ask him to leave if he makes you uncomfortable,” he says, looking down at her with worry. “I can do it.” She shrugs.

“I would, but his daughter really does enjoy the class, and it’s not fair to her that her dad’s disgusting. It’s nothing we can’t handle.” She squeezes his wrist lightly. “Thanks, though. Hey Jack, show dad your project.” He peers over his shoulder, and it’s a pink and orange skyline, much like the one he saw her painting that first time on the balcony. “I asked the kids to paint my favorite thing today, and that’s sunset.”

“I saw you painting this one night,” he says, and then he feels abruptly like an idiot. She just smiles at him though, nods.

“Yeah, I’m a sucker for a beautiful sunset. It makes you feel like, just because the day ends, it doesn’t have to mean things are over; it’s just one of life’s beautiful natural transitions. And the colors are to die for: peach, coral, jasmine, rose, tiger’s eye.” He finds himself unexpectedly touched by her description, smiles softly to shake himself of the emotions.

“The way you see the world is extraordinary. To me it’s just kind of… orange.” She returns his expression, but softer, and squeezes his wrist again; he didn’t even realize she was still holding it.

“Sounds like you need some art in your heart. I give lessons for adults, too; you could even come over and paint with me on my balcony, some time. Special neighbor privileges.”

The thought of being with her on her balcony while she paints is almost overwhelming, which he finds funny, considering he currently sits no more than twenty feet away. There is an intimacy about it, while they both do their work in the cool, quiet breeze, but standing like this, close enough to touch, with the late day sun on her face while she talks about colors… he’s not sure he could handle it without falling in love.

She pats him on the back, moves on to another child, and he tells Jack what a great job he’s doing; his face is lit up, so happy, and regardless of the neighbor, he’s glad they stumbled upon this hobby.

When they pack up to leave, the jerk from earlier comes up to him, leans in to speak in a hushed voice. “You should have just told me you were fucking her. I would have backed off.” He blinks, but the guy and his daughter are walking out the door before he finds himself able to do more than that. About a week later, he goes over for that lesson almost by accident. Jack is at Jessica’s for the night at his request, and Aaron was planning to order takeout and have a paperwork cramming session, but when goes out onto the balcony, phone in hand to place an order, his neighbor is standing on hers like she’s waiting for him.

“Hey. I saw you don’t have Jack; I made some pasta with vodka sauce, if you’re hungry. I always prepare too much.” He sets his phone on the table, walks over to the railing to get a little closer.

“Uh. Sure. I have fresh basil growing here; trade?” She smiles, nods.

“Yeah, sounds delicious. I’ll be right back.” She ducks inside, returns a few moments later with two dishes of steaming, saucy pasta, sets one down on her table and gets right up against her railing, hands the other over to him across his. “That one’s for you,” she says, handing him an orange plate, and he sets it down, picks a few good looking leaves from his basil plant and tears them up, drops them on top. “And this one’s for me.” She reaches, holds a green plate over the gap between their porches, and he adds some basil to it before she pulls it back, takes a deep sniff. “God, it smells so good and fresh. Thank you, Aaron.”

“Thank you, it looks great.” He goes to sit at his table with it, but she scoots her chair closer to the railing, closer to his balcony, so he does the same. They make easy small talk while they eat, mostly about Jack, a little about her studio and his work.

“FBI, huh? I can definitely see that, with your suits, and your… neutrals.” She cringes when she says it, and it makes him laugh.

“I’m sorry I can’t wear paint covered overalls to the office,” he teases, and she shoots him a playfully affronted look, grins.

“You love my paint covered overalls—and for the record, you’d look great in them. You should find a pair. Preferably not black.” He flushes a little at that, but she doesn’t notice, just finishes up her pasta with a sigh of contentment. “That was so good, thanks again for the basil.”

“You’re welcome; thanks for feeding me something other than the takeout I planned to have.” He stands up, gestures to his apartment. “I’ll wash the plate and then hand it back over.”

“Why don’t you just bring it over and come paint with me for a little while? If you want,” she tacks on, and for the first time she seems a little nervous. “I’m not trying to be pushy, I just think it would be fun.”

It’s not that he doesn’t want to; it would be amazing to watch her paint up close and personal. He’s just also afraid he’ll pass the point of no return if he does it, and he can’t handle any more heartache. He only very recently got to a place where just waking up in the morning no longer causes him agony.

It’s the look on her face, though, soft and sweet and open, that makes his decision for him.

“Yeah, okay. I’d like that.” She grins.

“I’ll unlock the door.”

She’s dragging out her easel when he walks through the door; her apartment is stark white walls with vibrant furniture, artwork, canvases propped up against every bare spot along the wall, paints and brushes and charcoal and pencils on every surface. It’s exactly what he would have expected, warm and lived-in and comforting, very unlike the mostly black and gray interior of his own apartment. She smiles when she sees him.

“Hey! Can you grab that tray of paint on your way out?” she asks, and he picks up what looks kind of like an ice cube tray filled with many different colors, carries it out to the balcony with him. She has a canvas propped up, a little larger than a computer monitor, and she’s gotten started, but he can’t tell what it’s going to be just yet. When he hands her the paint she looks down at it, peers around the edge of the canvas like she’s comparing something. He’s so intrigued, curious about the way her mind works, what she’s thinking.

“What are you painting?” he asks when she picks up a brush, sets it down, picks up another. She smiles at him.

“Well, we’re painting that.” She points to the street, where there’s a rusty, pale blue antique car parked—he says that loosely, because it looks broken down—in the alley. Aaron chuckles softly.

“We’re going to paint that? It’s a little… grim.”

“Yes. It’s part of a series I just decided to create: ‘Beauty in the Ordinary.’” She sighs, and he’s surprised to see that her eyes are a little wet. She wipes the back of her hand over her eyes. “You know Bob Ross, right? Everyone knows Bob Ross.” He nods.

“Yes; the guy who paints the happy trees on PBS.”

“Right. I used to watch him growing up, and I vividly remember something he said once, about needing both darkness and light in life and in painting. ‘You have to have a little sadness once in a while to know when the good times come. I’m waiting on the good times now.’” She sniffles, exhales softly. “I’m waiting on the good times too. Sometimes looking at things like this car, and forcing myself to find something beautiful in it, is the easiest way to get through the day. Does that make sense?” He swallows hard when she looks up at him, because aside from Jack, she has been the lightest part of his life since the first time they passed each other on the elevator.

“Yeah, it really does.” She shoots him a soft, slightly sadder smile, and then explains about the paints a little, shows him the difference in the brushes, lets him feel the weight of them, the textures of the bristles.

She starts painting the car—the background is mostly finished—and he’s more than happy to watch, to hear her talk about her process. She asks if she can use his forearm to mix paints, and he turns it over, wrist up, tries not to smile too hard when she puts some dark blue on him, then white, mixing them and then comparing them to the car on the street. He looks down at her, the concentration on her face, the softness in her eyes, and is met with the sudden desire to brush a line of paint over her nose and make her laugh and kiss her breathless.

“Okay, your turn,” she says when she’s about halfway done with the car. She puts her hands on the backs of his arms, pulls him in front of the canvas so she’s between him and the railing. “You’ve been watching me, so you know what to do.” He has been watching her, but not necessarily for her technique, so he’s a little nervous; he dips the brush in the blue paint but hesitates to make a stroke. “I have faith in you, Aaron. Here.”

She wraps her fingers around his hand, guides him toward the canvas, and together they make a wide, curved line, rounding out the bumper. It doesn’t look half bad.

“It gets easier once you understand the relationship between specific paint, specific brushes, and your hands,” she says softly, and she helps him paint another line. “Are you having fun? You look stressed,” she teases, and he makes it a point to relax his face.

“I’m having a lot of fun,” he says, looking down at her; they make eye contact for a long moment, and she leans a little closer, and he leans a little closer, and then he accidentally dabs a blob of blue onto the canvas. He pulls back, grimaces, deflates. “I made a mistake. You can’t erase paint, right?” She laughs softly, takes the brush from his hand.

“No, you can’t erase paint, but as Mr. Ross would say, ‘There are no mistakes, only happy accidents.’” She gets her fingers close to the tip of the brush, makes a few quick movements, then grabs another brush, dips it in green. When she pulls back, there is a little blue flower growing out of a patch of grass where his blob used to be. He exhales, a little amazed.

“If only the mistakes we make in life were that easy to fix,” he says, and she nods.

“Yeah, that would be nice, but a lot of the time we find a way to turn them into beautiful things eventually. Are you willing to give it another shot?” He says yes, and she guides his hand for a while, then just hovers near it, then just instructs him on what to do. It’s dark before their painting is finished, and she carries it inside to dry, then takes him to the kitchen sink to scrub the paint off of his arm.

“Thanks for having me over; I had a really good time,” he murmurs as she dries his clean skin. She looks up, smiles softly, nods her head.

“I had a really good time too. I’m glad you came over; you’re welcome to join me any time.”

He says goodbye, heads home, looks at his stack of work with a groan, and brews a pot of coffee. He’s in for a long night, but he wouldn’t change his evening for anything. Life is much the same for the next few weeks: school and work, Jack’s art class at the studio a couple times a week, painting on the balcony on the weekend, with and without Jack. When Jack joins them for the first time, she pulls out a big box of markers and thick sheets of paper and he draws elaborate scenes while they talk and paint together. When Aaron makes mistakes, she’s never upset, just turns them into perfect little details that end up being his favorite parts of the paintings.

“What ever happened with your ‘Beauty in the Ordinary’ series?” he asks one evening while they’re painting some ocean waves. “Did I cause you enough trouble with the car to give up?” She looks down at the ground, looks a little shy, then shakes her head and smiles.

“No, you didn’t make me want to give up. I’ve been working on it at the studio. You’ll see it when it’s all done, I plan to hang them there.”

“Looking forward to it,” he tells her, and then Jack tugs on her shorts, shows them the picture he drew of the ocean, too.

Later that week, the team takes a case, and on the day he’s set to come home, Jessica drops Jack off at the studio with the plan that Aaron will pick him up when his flight lands. Due to some weather between where the team is and home, they get a little delayed; he doesn’t want to make Jessica head back out that way almost immediately after dropping him off, but he’s not sure who else he could ask to pick Jack up. It’s almost a stupid length of time before it dawns on him to call the studio.

“Life in Color, this is Alaina.”

“Alaina, hi, this is Jack’s dad—” He has his whole spiel prepared, but she cuts him off.

“Oh, sure, hang on a sec, she’s right here. It’s Jack’s dad,” she says, but it sounds further away, like she’s trying to cover the receiver. After a moment, his neighbor picks up.

“Aaron, hi. Jack said you were working.”

“Yeah, I was, and I’m supposed to pick him up after class, but our flight was delayed.” He doesn’t know how to ask for help with Jack; even with all the time they’ve been spending together, she still makes him a little nervous. Luckily, he doesn’t have to figure that part out on his own.

“Hey, that’s no problem. If it’s okay with you, I’ll just take him home with me. I’ll order pizza, we’ll draw, and you can just stop by when you’re home and pick him up.” He breathes a sigh of relief, runs a hand over the back of his head.

“That would be perfect. Thank you—I’ll owe you one.”

“You don’t owe me anything. Hanging out with your mini me is reward enough; he’s painting something special for you today, won’t let me see it.” That makes him smile, and he feels so warm at the prospect of picking him up from her bright apartment, seeing his artwork, her smile. After a long, draining day like this one, it’s exactly what he needs.

“I’ll have to remain in suspense until tonight, I guess. Can you let him know I said hi? And thank you, I’ll see you later tonight.”

“Of course. We’ll see you then.”

It’s late, after nine, by the time he makes it home. He doesn’t even take his bags inside, just drops them outside his door and knocks softly on hers. She answers with a smile, ushers him in, asks him if he’d like a drink and gets them each a beer.

Jack is in her room, asleep, so they have a little time to chat; she asks about his flight, his case, and he asks about the studio, and she gets a little shy when it comes to that topic, clears her throat.

“Um. I have Jack’s secret project, if you want to see it. He said I could show you.” He’s not sure why that would make her nervous—at least, until he sees it.

The background is all watercolors, a gradient of rainbow colors starting with pink at the top and ending with a soft purple at the bottom. Over that, in black marker, he’s drawn the three of them, with a big heart around them.

“Tonight’s theme was the thing that makes you the happiest, and he said he’s the happiest when the three of us are on the balcony together. It was… really, really sweet.” She looks up at him, brushes a hand over the crown of her head. “If I’m being honest, that’s when I’m the happiest, too.” He takes the picture from her hands, runs his fingers over it, and smiles, feeling a warm ache in his chest—not like before, not like losing someone he’s never really met, but like finding something he never really planned on.

“That’s when I’m the happiest, too,” he agrees, and when he looks up, she looks determined, like she does when trying to find just the right shade of paint. She takes Jack’s picture out of his hand, sets it on the counter, and then pulls him down by the lapels of his suit, kisses him long and slow. His hands move to her waist, keeping her close, and eventually she pauses for breath, looks at him again, and then wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him some more.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the first time I saw you—tall and dark and serious, striding out of the elevator. So intriguing, mysterious,” she breathes when they separate again. “I wanted to know everything about you.”

“Are you kidding?” he asks, huffing a laugh. “I’m boring, but you are so vibrant, so full of life; I felt like you were everything I wasn’t, and I wanted to know you so badly.”

“You know me now; would you like to keep getting to know me?” It’s one of the easiest questions he’s ever been asked; he nods, and she beams, and he lifts her into his arms and carries her to the couch, drapes himself over her while she leans back against the cushions, pulling him closer.

They make out like neither of them have a care in the world—god, how long has it been since he’s made out with someone?—her fingers scraping through his hair, his hands on her bare waist when her shirt rides up, and she’s in the process of pushing his jacket off his shoulders when they hear a sound from the other room that startles them apart. Jack.

“I’ll go check on him,” Aaron says, and when he goes into her room Jack is still snuggled up on her bed sound asleep. It looks like some canvases fell over, though, and he stoops to pick them up, then spots the car they painted together. He turns and she’s right behind him, skids to a stop. “I thought you said these were at the studio?”

“They were,” she says, and she looks nervous again. “But I changed my mind about hanging them there. They felt too personal.” He runs his hand over the car and sees where she’s coming from; this one feels personal to him, too.

“Can I see the rest?” he asks. “Only if you want to show me them.”

“You’re the only one I want to show them to,” she says with a soft smile, and she grabs a few more canvases, carries them into the light of the living room. “Beauty in the ordinary, remember.” He remembers, could never forget.

She turns one over, and it’s a kitchen sink, and in the kitchen sink is an orange plate with a fork resting on it—like the plate she’d given him with the pasta on it. She turns one over and it’s a man’s hand, holding a paintbrush, with pale blue paint on his forearm. The next one is a little herb garden on a balcony; the next one is a view from above, of a sandy haired boy with markers all around him. The last one is an open elevator—ripe with possibilities.

When he looks up at her, she’s got tears in her eyes, and one slips down her cheek.

“So, I think I’ve found my good times.” She smiles through her tears, and he takes her face in his hands and kisses the salt from her lips. “I love you,” she says when he pulls back to wipe her face with his sleeve, and he kisses her softly, again and again, and tells her he loves her, too. The next weekend, Jack is at Jessica’s for a sleepover, and Aaron has been enlisted to help with an art project. He walks next door, knocks lightly, and enters the living room; he is met with a very deep, passionate kiss and a smile, and instructions to help move the furniture out of the way.

“I’m really curious what kind of art requires this much floor space,” he says, shoving her couch back against the wall, and she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, a move he has been unable to resist since she did it the first time they had sex. She knows it’s a weakness, exploits it, and he loves every minute of it.

“You’ll see, but I promise you’re going to like it.” When they clear the floor, she grabs a large, rolled-up fabric canvas and lays it out in the middle of the room, then drops three bottles of paint—one is yellow (jasmine), one is orange (peach), and one is kind of pink (coral? He’s still not sure.)—onto it. “You can obviously say no if you want, but I wanted something over my bed with the sunset colors, and I found this…” She steps closer to him, runs her hands down his chest, guides him down for a kiss so delicious he loses his train of thought. “It’s sex art; we put the paint on the canvas, and on ourselves, and… you know, go at it. What do you think?”

He thinks he really, really loves art now, even more than he thought possible.

“So we have paint-covered sex and then you just hang it on the wall? Like regular art?”

“Yep, I got the supplies I’ll need to hang it; letting it dry will probably take the longest. I figured we could shower while it’s drying, maybe go for round two, if you’re up for it.” She moves her hand to his waist, slips it inside his shorts, and he pulls her closer to his body. “Are you up for it, Aaron?”

That is an understatement.

Undressing happens extremely fast, because this is really sexy and they’re kind of in a phase where they can’t keep their hands off of each other anyway. She pulls her hair up onto the top of her head to try to minimize the amount of paint in it, and then she pours paint on the canvas, turns around and drizzles some on his back and tells him to lay down.

“I think we should probably change positions often so we get a lot of motion on the canvas; I apologize to your old knees in advance,” she teases, but she soothes the sting of her words by pouring paint on herself and then laying between his legs and licking at his dick. “Do some stuff with your hands; I want to see those big handprints on my wall,” she murmurs, and he groans, puts his palms down in the paint and drags them through it.

She leans up a little, sliding her knees through some yellow paint, sucks him fully, deeply into her mouth for couple of minutes, and then stretches forward and puts an orange hand right in the middle of his chest; the look in her eyes is playful, and he reaches out with one finger, hooks it under her chin, and guides her off and up so they can kiss.

“Your turn,” he says with a smirk, and then he gets her onto her back and ducks between her legs, hopes she doesn’t grab for his hair like she usually does. He rubs his pointed tongue over her clit, waits for the mmm it always elicits, and looks up at her, covers each of her breasts with a paint-covered palm and squeezes. “Leave handprints for me,” he leans up and reminds her, kissing her stomach, and she plants her hands, then presses up and grabs his shoulder, smearing pink down his back. “Oh, you wanted more of that?”

“Don’t tease me, the paint will dry,” she whines, and he spreads her thighs wider with his elbows and licks her pussy quickly, until she’s squirming against the canvas and panting for more. “Come here, come here.”

He’s not ready for that, though, paint or not, wants her to come from this; he takes his hands off of her, dips them in the paint again and presses down, then puts his hands under her ass and brings her closer so he can fuck her with his tongue, quick and deep and slick.

“Aaron, Aaron, god.” She slides her hands down his arms, over his neck, digs her nails in when she comes moaning like music.

While she catches her breath, so gorgeous, she sticks her arms out like she’s making a snow angel, and he catches her while she’s off guard and turns her onto her stomach, puts his hands on the smears of paint he’s already left on her ass, and slides inside.

“Oh my god; I was trying to impress you with this sexy art project, but you’re rocking my world.” She’s breathless, pressing back into his thrusts and painting with her entire body. God, he loves her mind.

“You know I always take your projects very seriously,” he says, leaning forward to whisper in her ear, and she groans, laughs.

“Yes you do. From the side? Let’s lay diagonally.” They shift, and he hooks his chin over her shoulder, kisses her neck and huffs hot against her hair. “Hmm, love it like this,” she sighs, and she reaches back to press her hand to his hip, holding him while he moves inside her. “I love you.”

“Love you. I want you to finish on top of me,” he instructs with a wet kiss to her throat, and she nods against his lips.

“Yeah, next; I’m getting close.” A few more strokes and she gets up onto her knees, lets him lay back, propped up on his arms, and climbs on top of him; she kisses him slow and dirty and then runs her hands over him, sits back on his dick and glides up and down. “You wanna come like this too? I owe you a little world rocking,” she says with a flick of her tongue over his bottom lip, and he nods, squeezes her thigh.

“It’s the least you can do after making me move all the heavy furniture.” She rolls her eyes but kisses his chin, down his throat, and bounces harder on him, all delicious eye contact and moans. “Mmm. Just like that, baby, come for me.”

“Fuck. I will, I will.” She wraps a hand around the back of his neck, kisses him kind of rough and with lots of tongue, and then tips her head back and climaxes, clenches, wrings his orgasm out of him so quickly it’s almost jarring. “Oh, yes Aaron. So good,” she mumbles, and then he lays back, out of breath, and she slides out of his lap and lays beside him, out of breath too.

After a moment, she looks over at him, smiles, and swipes a pink fingertip over his cheek.

“This is the hottest thing I’ve ever done with anyone. I’m glad I got to do it with you.” He rolls on top of her, presses a kiss to her nose, and nods.

“Me too. You know,” he adds after a moment, “my bedroom could use some artwork, too.” She grins, wraps her arms around him and squeezes tight.

“You’re right; I think we should do yours in blue: liberty, that’s dark blue; periwinkle, that’s light blue; maybe steel gray, too.”

“You’re the expert. I’m just your paintbrush.” Her hands smooth up his back, and contentment washes over him like a warm breeze.

“Hmm. I like the sound of that. Want to get cleaned up?”

Cleaning up is almost as fun as making the mess, because they’re well and truly covered, and when the canvas dries, the sunset colors are almost as beautiful as the ones she used the first time he ever saw her paint. Taglist ❤️: @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc

[eddieboi23]

Don’t be sad

Courtney x depressed!GN Reader (Dead End Paranormal park)

——————————————————————

Summary: You have been slacking in work at the theme park, and no one seems to want to ask why, besides Courtney.(reader is above 18 in this)

Tw: cussing, um depressing thoughts, kissing?

(Y/n)=yours name

-this is thoughts-

Credits: me

--//--

Your POV:

You’ve been sad lately, no, more like, absolutely fucking depressed. You don’t HAVE a valid reason, at least that’s what others say.

You hate yourself, your parents for kicking you out of your home, your voice, your body, everything. Of course your parents and friends all said you should stop “bringing down the mood”, or being “selfish,” so you tend to just keep it in, though it hurts. But who cares, right?

You awaken in the creepy bedroom you moved into(along with Barney), and sigh. (You were kicked out by your parents bc plot) You can tell today is going to be hard, as you already want to go back to sleep ,forever.

You fight through the urge to do just that and slowly get up, all your bones popping as you stretch.

Then you look in the mirror on the side table ,and see your puffy eyes and tear stained face.

You cried last night, you would definitely have to fix your face.

You slowly go through your morning routine and exit your room, walking down to meet Barney, Norma, and… Courtney.

You will admit you had a small crush on her, but that’s besides the point!

Barney Norma, Pugsley and Courtney are all just sitting around the steps, talking to each other, then they all turn to you.

Courtney waves, and you wave back. Then you slowly shuffled down to them.

“Hi Y/N! You sure do look tired! Are you ok?” Pugsley yapped.

“Mhm, yep” you replied.

“Y/N you should make sure to get the correct amount of sleep!” Said Norma in a scolding tone.

“Yea, sorry…” you mumbled.

Then it was Barney’s turn to speak, “yea it’s ok, I get it, this mansion is kinda creepy” you nod your head slowly, not having the energy to correctly reply.

Courtney narrows her eyes at you, then looks at the rest of the gang, “hey mortals, lemme talk to Y/N for a sec, alone.” You widen your eyes slightly, then look to the others.

Barney smirks and starts walking off. “We’ll start patrol alone! It won’t be too hard to find us!”

“O-Ok- bye.” You stuttered, as the others went outside to do who knows what.

Your thoughts were going crazy.

“-Now we are alone, fuck, ok y/n don’t panic, just alone with your crush no big deal it’s fine, am I in trouble, does she kno-“

“MORTAL” Courtney yells, a little too loudly.

You jump and look at her. “Er what? Sorry. Where you saying something?”

She sighs, “look mortal, something is obvious wrong with you or something, so just spill it! I ain’t got all day.”

You freeze, then force a smile. “Oh! No I’m ok, just tired yah know? N-Norma did say I needed more sleep!😅”

Courtney crosses her arms and narrows her eyes. “You sleep all the time, how much sleep does a mortal need!? I know something is wrong. You have constant bags under your eyes, walk soooo slow AND always wear hoodies. just TELL me!”

You let out a nervous laugh. “I’m fineee- OH I HEAR BARNEY CALLING GTG!!” You run outside before Courtney can say a word. Hope she bought you excuse.

Courtney Pov:

I watch Y/N run away, confused. “-why doesn’t the mortal want to talk, their stuttering was cut- HEY! Focus, no gushy stuff. they are hiding something. I’ll leave them alone for now, but I WILL make them talk.-“ she thought.

Then she went to go eat some trash or think abt how y/n is hot… or something idk.

(Time skip brought to you by my crippling depression)

Your pov:

You want to DIE, it’s too hot, your too tired. You just got back from patrol with Barney and Pugsley.

You say good night to them and shuffle to your room.

You open the door and walk in, turn off like light, then close to door. “-ugh I can’t wait to sleep, I’m too tired for this shi-“

You turn around, then scream, cutting off your current sentence.

“GOD! Courtney!!?! What are you doing here?! You almost gave me a damn heart attack!”

Courtney stares at you from the spot on your bed, with crosses arms. “Hellooo mortal, time to talk.”

You raise your eyebrow, the realize what she was talking about.

You let out a nervous laugh. “I already told you court, I’m just tired”

Courtney scowls then angrily gets up. “Fine! If you wanna lie to me, then SOOO be it, I thought we were buddies..” she scoffs.

You look at her for a sec, then sigh and sit on the bed. “Fine….but you can’t tell anyone…”

Courtney smirks and sits back on the bed. “I knew you’d come to your senses mortal, go on”

You look away and sigh again. “Yah know, I’m just depressed and all, I just hate my body, my parents, being alone. I wish I didn’t have to, idk,,, live? I know I’m probably just bringing you down, I’m s-“ you get cut off my tiny arms hugging you, so you look down towards Courtney. She’s hugging you.

You blush, and stutter. “C-Courtney?”

She hugs your tighter. “Look, Y/N, I know life sucks and shit, but your not alone you know? You got me and the gang to help yah. I’ll eat anyone who makes you feel like that.”

You tear up. “I-I’m sorry, I just don’t want to burden you guys….”

Courtney sighs. “Someone can’t be a burden if you love em- er wai-“

You interrupt. “I love you too.”

Courtney let’s go and looks at you. “Wait what? Like actually? Better not be yanking my chain mortal!”

You slowly nod. “Yea uh, I have for awhile…I’m glad you feel the s-“

Your cut off by scaly lips touching yours.

You pause, then kiss back, melting into the kiss.

After a few moments, Courtney pulls away and so do you, because air is a thing.

You stare at her. “So uh… are uh, um”

“Be my partner, I mean, who could resist me, right mortal?” Courtney says while smirking and wiggling her eyebrows.

You laugh, maybe the first genuine laugh in a while. “Sure, You got me there heh.”

“God, you making me go soft.” Courtney smirks and teleports onto your shoulders. “Buttttttt. Im already making yah feel better,. guess I gotta be around all the time so you don’t like, parish from sadness.”

You smile. “Yea, heh, guess you do.”

——————————————————

This is well, definitely not my first time writing, but it will be the first time I actually TRY….so enjoy this??

It is absolutely terrible so yk…deal with it ig

———————————————————

[duckprintspress]

Ten Things We Hate About Trad Pub

Often when I say “I’ve started a small press; we publish the works of those who have trouble breaking into traditional publishing!” what people seem to hear is “me and a bunch of sad saps couldn’t sell our books in the Real World so we’ve made our own place with lower standards.” For those with minimal understanding of traditional publishing (trad pub), this reaction is perhaps understandable? But, truly, there are many things to hate about traditional publishing (and, don’t get me wrong - there are things to love about trad pub, too, but that’s not what this list is about) and it’s entirely reasonable for even highly accomplished authors to have no interest in running the gauntlet of genre restrictions, editorial control, hazing, long waits, and more, that make trad pub at best, um, challenging, and at worst, utterly inaccessible to many authors - even excellent ones.

Written in collaboration with @jhoomwrites, with input from @ramblingandpie, here is a list of ten things that we at Duck Prints Press detest about trad pub, why we hate it, and why/how we think things should be different!

(Needless to say, part of why we created Duck Prints Press was to...not do any of these things... so if you’re a writer looking for a publishing home, and you hate these things, too, and want to write with a Press that doesn’t do them...maybe come say hi?)

-

1. Work lengths dictated by genre and/or author experience.

Romance novels can’t be longer than 90,000 words or they won’t sell! New authors shouldn’t try to market a novel longer than 100,000 words!

A good story is a good story is a good story. Longer genre works give authors the chance to explore their themes and develop their plots. How often an author has been published shouldn’t put a cap on the length of their work.

-

2. Editors assert control of story events...except when they don’t.

If you don’t change this plot point, the book won’t market well. Oh, you’re a ten-time bestseller? Write whatever you want, even if it doesn’t make sense we know people will buy it.

Sometimes, a beta or an editor will point out that an aspect of a story doesn’t work - because it’s nonsensical, illogical, Deus ex Machina, etc. - and in those cases it’s of course reasonable for an editor to say, “This doesn’t work and we recommend changing it, for these reasons…” However, when that list of reasons begins and ends with, “...because it won’t sell…” that’s a problem, especially because this is so often applied as a double standard. We’ve all read bestsellers with major plot issues, but those authors get a “bye” because editors don’t want to exert to heavy a hand and risk a proven seller, but with a new, less experienced, or worse-selling author, the gloves come off (even though evidence suggests time and again that publishers’ ability to predict what will sell well is at best low and at worst nonexistent.)

-

3. A billion rejection letters as a required rite of passage (especially when the letters aren't helpful in pinpointing why a work has been rejected or how the author can improve).

Well, my first book was rejected by a hundred Presses before it was accepted! How many rejection letters did you get before you got a bite? What, only one or two? Oh…

How often one succeeds or fails to get published shouldn’t be treated as a form of hazing, and we all know that how often someone gets rejected or accepted has essentially no bearing on how good a writer they are. Plenty of schlock goes out into the world after being accepted on the first or second try...and so does plenty of good stuff! Likewise, plenty of schlock will get rejected 100 times but due to persistence, luck, circumstances, whatever, finally find a home, and plenty of good stuff will also get rejected 100 times before being publishing. Rejections (or lack there of) as a point of pride or as a means of judging others needs to die as a rite of passage among authors.

-

4. Query letters, for so many reasons.

Summarize all your hard work in a single page! Tell us who you’re like as an author and what books your story is like, so we can gauge how well it’ll sell based on two sentences about it! Format it exactly the way we say or we won’t even consider you!

For publishers, agents, and editors who have slush piles as tall as Mount Everest...we get it. There has to be a way to differentiate. We don’t blame you. Every creative writing class, NaNoWriMo pep talk, and college lit department combine to send out hundreds of thousands of people who think all they need to do to become the next Ernest Hemingway is string a sentence together. There has to be some way to sort through that pile...but God, can’t there be a better way than query letters? Especially since even with query letters being used it often takes months or years to hear back, and...

-

5. "Simultaneous submissions prohibited.”

No, we don’t know when we’ll get to your query, but we’ll throw it out instantly if you have the audacity to shop around while you wait for us.

The combination of “no simultaneous submissions” with the query letter bottleneck makes success slow and arduous. It disadvantages everyone who aims to write full-time but doesn’t have another income source (their own, or a parents’, or a spouse’s, or, or or). The result is that entire classes of people are edged out of publishing solely because the process, especially for writers early in their career, moves so glacially that people have to earn a living while they wait, and it’s so hard to, for example, work two jobs and raise a family and also somehow find the time to write. Especially considering that the standard advice for dealing with “no simultaneous submissions” is “just write something else while you wait!” ...the whole system screams privilege.

-

6. Genres are boxes that must be fit into and adhered to.

Your protagonist is 18? Then obviously your book is Young Adult. It doesn’t matter how smutty your book is, erotica books must have sex within the first three chapters, ideally in the first chapter. Sorry, we’re a fantasy publisher, if you have a technological element you don’t belong here…

While some genre boxes have been becoming more like mesh cages of late, with some flow of content allowed in and out, many remain stiff prisons that constrict the kinds of stories people can tell. Even basic cross-genre works often struggle to find a place, and there’s no reason for it beyond “if we can’t pigeon-hole a story, it’s harder to sell.” This edges out many innovative, creative works. It also disadvantages people who aren’t as familiar with genre rules. And don’t get me wrong - this isn’t an argument that, for example, the romance genre would be improved by opening up to stories that don’t have “happily ever afters.” Instead, it’s pointing out - there should also be a home for, say, a space opera with a side romance, an erotica scene, and a happily-for-now ending. Occasionally, works breakthrough, but for the most part stories that don’t conform never see the light of day (or, they do, but only after Point 2 - trad pub editors insist that the elements most “outside” the box be removed or revised).

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7. The lines between romance and erotica are arbitrary, random, and hetero- and cis-normative.

This modern romance novel won’t sell if it doesn’t have an explicit sex scene, but God forbid you call a penis a penis. Oh, no, this is far too explicit, even though the book only has one mlm sex scene, this is erotica.

The difference between “romance” and “erotica” might not matter so much if not for the stigmas attached to erotica and the huge difference in marketability and audience. The difference between “romance” and “erotica” also might not matter so much if not for the fact that, so often, even incredibly raunchy stories that feature cis straight male/cis straight female sex scenes are shelved as romance, but the moment the sex is between people of the same gender, and/or a trans or genderqueer person is involved, and/or the relationship is polyamorous, and/or the characters involved are literally anything other than a cis straight male pleasuring a cis straight female in a “standard” way (cunnilingus welcome, pegging need not apply)...then the story is erotica. Two identical stories will get assigned different genres based on who the people having sex are, and also based on the “skill” of the author to use ludicrous euphemisms (instead of just...calling body parts what they’re called…), and it’s insane. Non-con can be a “romance” novel, even if it’s graphically described. “50 Shades of Gray” can sell millions of copies, even containing BDSM. But the word “vagina” gets used once...bam, erotica. (Seriously, the only standard that should matter is the Envelope Analogy).

-

8. Authors are expected to do a lot of their own legwork (eg advertising) but then don't reap the benefits.

Okay, so, you’re going to get an advance of $2,500 on this, your first novel, and a royalty rate of 5% if and only if your advance sells out...so you’d better get out there and market! Wait, what do you mean you don’t have a following? Guess you’re never selling out your advance…

Trad pub can generally be relied on to do some marketing - so this item is perhaps better seen as an indictment of more mid-sized Presses - but, basically, if an author has to do the majority of the work themselves, then why aren’t they getting paid more? What’s the actual benefit to going the large press/trad pub route if it’s not going to get the book into more hands? It’s especially strange that this continues to be a major issue when self-publishing (which also requires doing one’s own marketing) garners 60%+ royalty rates. Yes, the author doesn’t get an advance, and they don’t get the cache of ~well I was published by…~, but considering some Presses require parts of advances to get paid back if the initial run doesn’t sell out, and cache doesn’t put food on the table...pay models have really, really got to change.

-

9. Fanfiction writing doesn't count as writing experience

Hey there Basic White Dude, we see you’ve graduated summa cum laude from A Big Fancy Expensive School. Of course we’ll set you up to publish your first novel you haven’t actually quite finished writing yet. Oh, Fanperson, you’ve written 15 novels for your favorite fandom in the last 4 years? Get to the back of the line!

Do I really need to explain this? The only way to get better at writing is to write. Placing fanfiction on official trad pub “do not interact” lists is idiotic, especially considering many of the other items on this list. (They know how to engage readers! They have existing followings! They understand genre and tropes!) Being a fanfiction writer should absolutely be a marketable “I am a writer” skill. Nuff said. (To be clear, I’m not saying publishers should publish fanfiction, I’m saying that being a fanfiction writer is relevant and important experience that should be given weight when considering an author’s qualifications, similar to, say, publishing in a university’s quarterly.)

-

10. Tagging conventions (read: lack thereof).

Oh, did I trigger you? Hahahaha. Good luck with that.

We rate movies so that people can avoid content they don’t like. Same with TV shows and video games. Increasingly, those ratings aren’t just “R - adult audiences,” either; they contain information about the nature of the story elements that have led to the rating (“blood and gore,” “alcohol reference,” “cartoon violence,” “drug reference,” “sexual violence,” “use of tobacco,” and many, many more). So why is it that I can read a book and, without warning, be surprised by incest, rape, graphic violence, explicit language, glorification of drug and alcohol use, and so so much more? That it’s left to readers to look up spoilers to ensure that they’re not exposed to content that could be upsetting or inappropriate for their children or, or, or, is insane. So often, too, authors cling to “but we don’t want to give away our story,” as if video game makes and other media makers do want to give away their stories. This shouldn’t be about author egos or ~originality~ (as if that’s even a thing)...it should be about helping readers make informed purchasing decisions. It’s way, way past time that major market books include content warnings.

Thank you for joining us, this has been our extended rant about how frustrated we are with traditional publishing. Helpful? No. Cathartic? Most definitely yes. 🤣

*

Have a question about writing? Drop us an ask!

Like what we do and want to support us? You can buy us a ko-fi - or get access to exclusive content by backing us on Patreon!

[jungwonenthusiast]

hi ! enhypen smut prompt request ! can i have the reader whos a female say #4 with jake or sunghoon whos a hard dom ?? if u can , can u add how the reader and the partner are enemies who got lots of sexual tension so they kinda trease e/o a lot with words and actions ? u dont have to use that plot but thank u♡

A/N: This is one of my favorite works now lol i hope u like it :) <3

Warnings: unprotected sex, rly brief oral (f recieving), degredation

Word Count: 2.9 k

“But it’s a Tuesday,” you tell Jay while zipping up your backpack.

“So?” he says. “Don’t be lame.”

“I’m not lame, just responsible.” you sing your bag over your shoulder.

“Yeah, that’s lame.” he walks with you to the lunch tables. Jungwon and Heeseung are already there chatting it up.

“You guys are coming right?” Jay asks them and they nod. “See? You gotta come.”

“It’ll be fun noona,” Jungwon says. “And you have to come because Heeseung hyung and Jay hyung are probably gonna leave me for girls.” he rests his head on your shoulder for a moment.

“Why don’t you get yourself some girls too.” you suggest and he shakes his head.

“I’m too shy.” he says quietly and you giggle.

“Alright fine, I’ll go.” you finally say and they all celebrate. “Jake’s not gonna be there right?”

“Uhm,” Heeseung looks over to Jake’s lunch table nervously. “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so?” you cock an eyebrow.

“He won’t be there,” Jay says. “It’ll be fine.”

You feel someone bump into your shoulder as you walk to history.

“What the hell?” you say and turn around to see who the culprit is. Of course it’s Jake. He shrugs with a half smile. That fucking ass.

After a few more classes you head home and start preparing for the bonfire party. It’s at a beach so you decide to wear your favorite bikini under your shirt and shorts. Your phone begins to buzz and it's a facetime call from Jungwon.

“Hola~” you greet him.

“Hi~” he says. “Can you take me there? My parents are at work.”

“Sure.” you say while putting all of your essentials into a purse.

“Also,” he hesitates. “I think Jake hyung is gonna be there.”

“What? How do you know?”

“I heard him talking about it during p.e.” he says quietly and you groan.

“Fuck, I don’t wanna go anymore.” you say.

“No you have to go, I will die without you.” Jungwon pleads. “It’ll be fun, we'll just stay away from him.”

“It’s gonna be hard to stay away from that giant ego taking up the whole place.” you roll your eyes.

“He’s not that bad noona, he’s actually pretty nice.” Jungwon shrugs.

“Don’t betray me like that,” you scold him. “You’re on my team alright?”

“Okay okay.” he surrenders, giggling.

You pick Jungwon up and give him the aux for the 30 minute drive to the beach.

You guys groove to SZA together.

Jungwon rolls down the window while you're on the highway and sticks his head out like a dog. He kind of is like a dog (in a good way). He’d be a shiba inu.

“Whoooo!!” he screams as the wind whips through his hair, you smile.

When you get there you park your car and get the beach towels from the backseat.

“Did you put sunscreen on?” you as Jungwon and he shakes his head. “Why do you never listen to me?”

You get a bottle of sunscreen out of your purse and rub a dollop on his face. He scrunches his nose.

“It feels like you're rubbing cake batter on me.” he complains.

“You’ll thank me when you’re fifty and you aren’t a wrinkly wreck.” you tell him while spreading it over his cheeks.

“Can we be done now?” he whines and you sigh.

“Fine.”

You two approach the crowd of people suntanning, drinking, playing volleyball, and playing in the ocean.

You drop your stuff next to Heeseung’s and Jay’s before looking around for them. They’re playing volleyball with who on the opposing team? Jake Sim.

Jungwon must’ve noticed you shooting lasers through your eyes because he grabs your arm. “Come on, let’s go swim.” he tugs his t-shirt over his head and jogs over to the water.

You follow suit, only feeling a little self conscious about stripping with Jake Sim only so far away. But it’s only because you don’t want to be vulnerable in front of your worst enemy, right?

Jungwon’s already relaxing among the waves when you get to the shore. “Why’d you go so deep?” you call out to him.

“It’s not that deep,” he says back.

You swim around with him for a bit before forcing him to look for pretty shells with you.

He gasps. “Baby crab!” he rushes to pick it up. “Look.” he holds it up to you.

You try to pet it without freaking it out. “What if it bites you?”

“It won’t, we’re friends.”

The sun is nearly gone by the time you’re done shell searching and swimming so you head over to the bonfire. You wrap a towel around yourself and snuggle up to Jay. He scrunches his nose.

“It’s cold,” you defend yourself.

Heeseung hands you a white claw and you crack it open.

“What are we doing now?” you ask but you can’t hear Heeseung’s answer over the sight of Jake, Sunghoon, Sunoo, and Niki sitting right across from you. You notice how the bonfire highlights the muscles in Jake’s chest and arms. The warm orange light washing over him makes it look like he’s glowing. Is this what Apollo would’ve looked like? “Huh?” you ask Hee.

“We’re probably just gonna play dumb highschool games.” he says.

You inhale and take a big swig of your seltzer.

“Truth or dare time~” Bree sing songs. “Sunoo truth or dare?”

“Truth,” Sunoo answers.

“Do you have a crush on anyone and if so, who?” she asks and he rolls his eyes.

“I have a crush on myself.” he says confidently.

“Fair enough, you go now.” she says to him.

“Heeseung hyung, truth or dare?” Sunoo asks.

“Dare,” he replies and Sunoo giggles.

“Give your phone to Jay and let him text anyone anything he wants.”

Heeseung groans and throws his head back. “Oh God.”

Jay cackles an evil laugh. “Gimme.”

Heeseung reluctantly hands Jay his phone. “You’re gonna text Sophie aren’t you.”

Sophie Morales, Heeseung ex. They broke up only a month ago after half a year of dating. This was about to be brutal.

“You know me so well.” Jay smiles.

“Please don’t say anything too horrible.” Heeseung pleads.

“Sophie,” Jay narrates his text message. “I miss you and your huge tits. Also I’m sorry for not telling you while we were dating but your feet are really fucking ugly.”

Heeseung buries his head into his hands, laughing. “Fucking Christ.”

“And your breath stinks,” Jay continues. “At least your boobs are nice.”

This is what I get for befriending males. You think to yourself.

“Alright that’s enough.” Heeseung snatches his phone away while everyone giggles. “My turn since I was the victim. y/n, truth or dare?” “Truth,”

“What’s your biggest regret?”

“Becoming friends with Jay, because he’s insane.”

Jay guffaws. “I’ve been nothing but good to you.”

You roll your eyes.

The game goes on for a bit until it lands on Jungwon.

“Noona, truth or dare?”

You’d usually go for truth, but you didn’t want people to think you were boring. “Dare.”

“I dare you and Jake hyung to talk to each other in private for at least five minutes.” he says, crossing his arms.

Your eyes widen and you look over at Jake, he looks like he wants to drown himself.

“What? Why?” you ask urgently.

“Because I’m tired of you guys hating each other for no reason. Now go.” Jungwon shoos you away.

“Yeah go talk.” Niki says to Jake.

Both of you don’t budge. Jay tugs at your arm. “Come on, Jake and y/n becoming friends!”

The whole group starts chanting. “JAKE AND Y/N BECOMING FRIENDS!”

You had to admit that their enthusiasm was kind of endearing, so you swallow your pride and walk over to the lifeguard tower. You hear him not far behind you.

You climb up the stairs and let your feet hang over the ledge of the patio.

He sits down next to you.

You let a few moments of silence pass before speaking up. “I don’t want to be here as much as you do, so let’s just wait for the five minutes to pass and then go.”

“Damn,” he says. “Do you really hate me that much?”

You roll your eyes. “What do you think?”

“What did I ever do to you?” he scoffs.

“I don’t need to justify my feelings.” you cross your arms.

“Why are you so dense?” he grumbles.

You whip your body over to him. “I’m the dense one?”

“Yeah,” he says proudly. You want to slap the smug look off of his pretty face. Normal face. Slightly, almost, barely good looking face.

“Such a prick,” you mumble, turning away.

“What’d you call me?” he scrunches his eyebrows.

You look him right in the eyes. You never noticed how dark and piercing they were. “A fucking prick. Cause you are one.”

His black hair is still damp and poking into his eyes. His lips are parted and they look so soft that you almost want to kiss him. But he beats you to it.

I should push him away. Push him away you dumbass. You kept telling yourself but you couldn’t do it. His lips felt too good against yours.

Your arms snake around his waist as he lays you onto your back.

You wish you had a hundred hands so you could touch all of him. Two weren’t enough. He feels like silk and he tastes like red velvet.

He pushes your jaw up so he can get to your neck. You exhale as his tongue dances on your skin. He grinds his hips into yours and you let out a small moan. Why are you letting him affect you like this? Idiot.

“I thought you hated me?” he smirks while kissing your chest.

“I do.” you breathe out.

“You sure?” he asks, his fingers traveling down your stomach and into your bikini bottoms.

“Mhm.” you say.

He kisses your collarbone. “People you hate don’t make you wet like this.”

That just makes you throb even more.

“Fuck off,” you say and he backs up.

“Really?” he says. “Because I will.”

You roll your eyes and pull him in by the back of the neck.

“Touch me,” you say and he happily obliges. You knew were in public but it was dark and honestly, you didn’t care.

“Such a slut,” he says while running a finger up and down your slit. “If you wanted me this badly you should’ve said so sooner.”

“I don’t want you asshole.” you breathe out as he circles your clit.

“You just asked me to touch you princess,” he kisses your neck. “I think that’s good evidence.”

You rub your fingers through the back of his hair and tug it back, exposing his neck. He lets out a small moan. You kiss his neck, sucking and nibbling every now and then. When you pull away there’s at least three red blotches that go from his throat to his chest.

“People are gonna see those you know?” he says.

“Whatever.” you roll your eyes.

“Are you marking me or something? Telling everyone that I’m yours?” he boasts.

It’s confusing how your anger is feeding into your lust for him.

“Shut up and fuck me.” you say and he cocks a brow.

“Maybe if you ask nicely,” he kisses your cheek sweetly. You want to wipe it off and slap him in the face.

“Who do you think you are?” you scoff at him.

“Come on dont play with me,” he pushes one finger into you and you moan. “I can tell that you want it.”

It was true. You were practically gushing.

“More,” you say, wanting another finger.

“Where are your manners?” he smirks.

You swallow your pride. “Please?”

“Good girl,” he says and it sends tingles down your spine.

He pulls your bikini bottoms to the side and rubs his thumb up your slit. “Such a pretty cunt.”

Your thighs are already trembling.

“I really thought you’d still be hating me right now.” he says lowly. “Do I make you that weak?”

You snap to your senses for a moment. “Fuck you.”

“I am.” he snickers and you roll your eyes.

“Don’t give me attitude princess.” he warns you with a dangerous smile.

“Or what?” you test him.

“Do you really wanna find out?”

“What do you think you’re intimidating or something?” you ask and he scoffs.

He sits up and grabs your arm. “Get up.”

“What?”

“Get up.” he says sternly and you do.

He grabs your hand, leading you somewhere.

“Where are we going?” you ask, agitated. If you really didn’t want to go you wouldn’t, but you secretly wanted to continue what was going on.

“My car.”

“What? Why?”

“You’ll see.”

“Hey! Where are you going?” Jungwon calls out. “Don’t leave me!” “I’ll be just a second!” you reply with an unsure smile.

“Backseat.” Jake says as you approach his Mercedes.

So bossy, you think.

You sit in the back seat and before you know it he’s pulling you into his lap.

“Let’s continue shall we?” he says and you don’t waste any time getting your lips on his.

He pushes your hips down onto his and you whimper. You were already so wet and this was just making it worse.

“Please, I can’t wait any longer.” you say, not being able to hold it in.

“For what?” he nips at your neck.

“I need to feel you inside of me.” you plead. 

“That’s better.” he tugs his shorts down and pulls your swimsuit to the side.

You grab the base of him before slowly sinking down. “Fuck yes.” you moan in relief.

He fills you up perfectly and his tip brushes your g-spot every time you bounce.

“So fucking tight.” he growls, holding onto your hips tight.

Your legs begin to tremble from the pleasure so he grabs you by the waist and lays you on your back.

He snaps his hips into yours and you whine.

He smirks. “Look at you all spread out for me,” he kisses your neck. “Taking this cock deep inside you.”

Your fingers trail down to rub at your clit. “Please don’t stop.”

He flips you over into doggy and tugs your hair, bringing your ear up to his mouth.

“Tell me how bad you want it.”

“Really bad,” you whimper.

He smacks your ass and you let out a small squeal.

“Touch with yourself while I fuck you.” he lets you go and you rest on the door. Your fingers move to play with your pussy.

His hands are tight on your waist as he pounds into you.

You feel your knees start to give out and your cunt start to pulse around him.

He chuckles. “Are you close sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” you exhale. “Please make me cum, please I need it so bad.”

“Why should I think you deserve it?”

“Please, I can’t hold it any longer.” you say and he stops his movements completely.

He gets close to your ear. “You get to cum when I say so okay?”

You accept defeat. “Okay.”

You start to get more and more flustered as he continues to fuck you just right.

“Fuck Jake I can’t,” you whimper and hold onto the car door for dear life.

He pulls out suddenly and you complain before feeling his tongue on you. Your body tenses up from the pleasure.

“You taste so fucking good,” he says and you arch your back, pushing your pussy into his mouth. He moans against you.

After only a couple circles on your clit with his tongue, you’re ready to come undone. You grab onto his hand.

“Wait wait I’m close,”

And before you can utter another word he slams his cock into you and brings his hand around you to rub your clit.

“Cum on this cock sweetheart, I know you can do it.” he encourages you.

He smiles as your moans get louder and more high pitched.

Your legs start to shake and he grabs you tight. He comes up to your ear. “Be a good girl for me won’t you.”

Your eyes roll back as bliss runs through your entire body. He was probably the best lay you’ve ever had.

Your body goes slack as he cums inside of you.

“Fuck,” he growls and slowly pulls out. He picks you up and holds you in his arms as you try to ride out the trembling.

“How am I supposed to clean up?” you ask.

“Maybe you can swim again?” he jokes and you punch him in the arm. “Do you still hate me?”

“One hundred percent.” you say confidently.

“Are you kidding?” he scoffs. “My kids are in you right now.”

You fake gag and he laughs.