#I didn’t sing for a long time cause my shitty older sister who took voice lessons would just screech how I was tone deaf

[foldingfittedsheets]

So my singing voice is alright. I can harmonize like a motherfucker but on my own I’m just like. Okay.

This one day, years ago, I was at work in retail, it was a slow day without customers. I had a coworker, M, who was extremely temperamental, but a wonderful performer. Her voice was angelic. She’d do a ton of open mics with her guitar, and rooms would fall silent to hear her.

A different coworker, A, asked me what I was getting my partner for the holidays. “Oh,” I said, “I want to get him a shirt with Marceline from Adventure Time with some song lyrics!”

“What’s the song?”

At this moment, I rolled the only nat 20 I’ll ever be granted for singing, and I sang the first two lines. It’s a dumb song by a cartoon vampire. But it sounded. So. Good.

And when I looked up three of my coworkers were staring at me, jaws dropped. One of them was M, who looked absolutely furious. I made an enemy with those two lines, upstaging her at the thing she was supposed to be best at.

Fully convinced the universe used me to punish that girl for some reason. She never forgave me for having that one beautiful moment of singing, and I’ll never be able to replicate it.

[kusagrasskusa]

Michael Myers X Murderer! Reader - Headcannons - "Death Card"

Also, thank you (Wattpad Person) for requesting this :) I know your the last request I got, so I prolly should have done someone else's request first, but your's was just easiest to find. (Also, I have it bad for Michael so )

Have fun reading this! I'm writing this on my laptop instead of computer so sorry if the formatting turns out worse than usual :/

Also...someone made fun of me for putting, "eight," and, "11," in the same sentence. I guess not many people know this, but anything under ten is supposed to be written out unless their fractions or decimals.

By the way, these basically aren't headcannons lol. It's just me wanting to write out a story but not being good enough to so I just write it down in simpler terms.

Enjoy~

Not only is Y/N just another famous murder who casually takes the lives of people, but she's amazing at hiding

..........until-

Y/N was an abusive home after her parents died when she was a toddler. Her aunt and uncle neglected her but karma came back at them when their car fell off a bridge, causing the pair to drown. The downside for the young Y/N was that she was put into a foster institution. And we all know by now that foster care are full of fights, drugs, weed, alcohol, and shitty employees.

As a young girl entering such a bad place, she was always a target. You know that sense of fear, worthlessness, and loneliness fucked with her head to where she felt lashing out felt great.

She would be unable to stop herself as she plunged a sharp object in and out of this prick that held her down for so long. But once she heard voices from other kids, she ran.

The story made headlines as the next big attack from yet another child. That's right, next. There was someone who inspired her to do what she did.

Of course, she always had that memory in the back of her head. That boy's violent actions filled her with immeasurable awe when she saw the news. However, she always had something more important to think about.

With so much dissatisfaction with her past, she could only fill herself up with adding things on to her in the present, and more in the future.

Y/N would steal Poker cards from people and always use the Ace of Spades to mark her kills by sliding the card into a wound. After all, betting games were the highlight of her day in the foster institution. She was always so good at it that it became her pride.

All these headlines and stories about how evil she is became such a big deal in her head. Such an overwhelming feeling of adrenaline every time she heard the name people would call her.

"The Death Card," is another name for Ace of Spades in most English countries. It was the perfect fit for Y/N.

(Ya'll, I feel like a fucking genius for coming up with that lol)

She was so good at hiding, truly. Kill someone in Kentucky, then move to Missouri. Killing someone there and move to Georgia, and so on.

Only in her hometown was she caught.

Michael was the one who started it all for her, as their same age and hometown made her feel connected to him, and finally where he got caught would be the same place she did.

14 years of hiding and killing led her to meeting him

Michael spent these 14 years sitting in complete silence. No talking, no humming, no singing, nothing. It's like he was always in his own world of thought, too busy in his imagination to interact with the real world.

Of course, there was times when he did pay attention to what's around him.

The news was the only thing he'd really pay close attention to. After all, what if something happens to Haddonfield while's he's stuck in there, and that causes plenty of people he once knew to move away?

But per usual, there was nothing about it

But there was something that caught his attention even by a little

"After 14 years, the notorious Death Card or Card of Death has finally been caught," says the Haddonfield Police Department. "While we're unsure of her motives thus far, we have been able to learn of who she is. Y/N L/N made the headlines once in 1980 at the age of eight as one of America's biggest crime cases with children as the culprit, having brutally stabbed a 15 year old boy. This happened just two years after the Michael Myers case, when a six year old boy stabbed his older sister in 1978. All else the HPD are saying is that her frantic behavior may lead her to a mental institution rather than letting her make legal decisions in court."

Michael paid attention to all the details of the report. For this report to be made about Haddonfield, chances are they'll be meeting each other soon.

The Death Card was a violent killer Michael heard of plenty of times however he never paid close attention to.

(Holy shit these are just headcannons so why am I writing long paragraphs)

He had to say, hearing about her violent stabbings were the highlight of his week. Even if he never felt strong about hearing other people having fun with their lives like she was, he couldn't help but almost feel pushed to do what she is. Living freely and ending those who cross his path...

Saying he was jealous or inspired would be a stretch though

He would spend his days painting paper mache masks while thinking of doing what she was for sure but he hated how she would show off by using those cards as if she didn't have a goal in mind, which was annoying to him. If you have nothing to live for, then kill yourself was his mindset.

Michael watched as Y/N stepped into court. He know hundreds- no thousands- of people watched as this woman of pure evil stepped into the courtroom. Her H/C hair flowed as she walked passed everyone, glaring at them with her cold E/C eyes.

A look of slight intrigue replaced his normal dull expression as he watched the girl stand up before the judge, smiling sassily at the cameras as to tell them to fuck off. Michael can recognize that look of intrusion on her face as she was practically interrogated. Clearly, she hated it there.

He watched contently as all the mystery surrounding the Card of Death was revealed to everyone in this world. Days went by of this court case before finally, she pled insanity. After all, she was known to have some underlying mental conditions as she remained so calm when talking about the varies of ways she would kill.

It's easy to see that many felt bad for the girl. Such trauma growing up led to the creation of this unfortunate human. But Michael? He didn't feel bad at all.

He never was sad or truly sympathetic however...he did feel pity. Somewhere in his soulless eyes held pity for this sad, sad girl he was soon to meet. Not exactly sympathy, but simply pity. And with that came respect.

The day that Y/N stepped foot into those doors was the day the two would meet for the very first times. Over 63 counts of first degree murder in 14 years led to the meeting of these two serial killers. At the time, they were both only 20.

Tables were scattered across the room with people talking or simply sitting alone by themselves on them. There was TV in a few different places around the room and board games in a couple of shelves. In the back of the large room was windows that showed the outside that felt so out of reach forever.

As the metal doors slammed behind her, she felt eyes on her immediately. Y/N slowly scanned the room as she gulped back the intense fear gathering in her stomach. Her lips parted open as she began to breath heavily and press her back on those metal doors.

She was so trapped and scared when she first entered that foster institution. She couldn't help but think of karma when her aunt would hurt her so badly for those five years before she died. But 63 murders are so much worse, so what could karma do to her to balance her evil deeds with punishment?

Laughter and giggled filled her ears as she shut her eyes tightly and covered her face with her arms. Her vision was going blurry; she was having a panic attack. Tears fell from her eyes as she whimpered quietly to herself.

She may be the Card of Death however she never had to be in a large group of people in so long.

Her body jerked as she was suddenly pulled away from those metal doors. She cried out when she saw a large man, around 6'7 (204cm), pull her away.

In just a few seconds, she was pulled to a metal table and forced to sit as the large man stood behind her with his hands on her shoulders.

Her body tensed unimaginably as they remained still for a few seconds, quiet aside from the occasional sobs of Y/N.

Then suddenly, the pressure on her shoulders disappeared. She heard nothing until the sound of creaking from the seat in front of her interrupted.

Y/N felt eyes on her. They were so intense over her.

A minute passed before her own eyes fluttered open, meeting the man's eyes in front of her.

A shiver ran down her spine when she came face to face with stone cold blue eyes that seemed to hold nothing within them. No light, no soul, and no sympathy. Not only that, but a orange mask made of paper mache covered the rest of his face as well.

The man tilted his head before lifting his hand onto the table, sliding something over to her. Y/N looked down at what he gave her.

"Don't speak. Write."

Michael had given her a paper with these words. His handwriting was hard to read considering he nearly never wrote anything so it took a moment before Y/N got the message. When she did, she looked back up at the man and nodded just a little so it was barely recognizable.

Obviously this conversation was to be secretive so she knew to barely show signs of interactions. The camera couldn't pick up on such a small nod to what evidence is there of them even interacting?

Michael slid the paper back to him and brought a pencil to the paper after erasing the original text. When he slid it back to her, it read, "Don't let anyone know what we say Y/N. They watch everything." When Y/N looked back up at him, she saw him dart his eyes from something behind her to something on the wall between them. She turned her head slightly to the side, noticing a camera on the wall. So she understood.

Michael had dropped on the pencil on the table, meaning it was her turn to reply. She erased the previous text before writing down, "Who are you? How do you know me?" When she slid it back, Michael took the pencil in his hand again.

"Michael Myers. I was a well known case two years before you. We heard a lot about you on TV."

"As in the boy who killed his sister at the age of six?"

"Yes. You know me?"

Y/N's eyes widened slightly as she frantically wrote down a reply. Without even noticing, the knot in her stomach had completely disappeared without a trace.

"I remember seeing your case. I thought about everyday."

Michael didn't reply immediately after reading. Instead, he waited a few minutes and stared down at the table. A look of confusion remained on Y/N's features as she impatiently waited. Then suddenly, Michael erased what was on the paper and simply drew a masked person looking somewhat like himself with a knife in his hand. He drew dead stick figures around it with blood splattering everywhere.

Michael knew that this picture would cover up all the eraser marks and writings that were still slightly visible. So when the guard that walked up behind Y/N without her knowing popped up, he didn't see any text.

Of course, this did lead to the paper being taken away. Then minutes after that, both of the pair was taken away.

If there's one thing as scary as analyzing The Shape and caring for him, it's that person who cares and analyzes him finding him interacting with someone else for the first time.

Whenever Y/N got sat down in her cell, she knew what was about to happen. She was sat down in her bed as a man she'd never seen before sat down in the chair that came with her little desk in her cell with a guard next to him.

Have you ever spoken to Michael? Are you related to him? How do you know him? How does he know you? Have you ever met his family? Why did he interact to you? Why was he drawing things for you? Does he like you? Does he hate you? Did he write to you? Did you hear him talk?

So many questions were asked by this Dr Loomis in such short amount of time. "No, no, I don't, no, I don't know, I don't know, I don't know, I don't know, no, no," and mostly these were your responses. No matter how many times Loomis asked, you dully replied.

You simply said he sat you down and you began to draw together, both filling in a piece of the drawing together.

And eventually, you got out.

Another day went by of "talking" to Michael.

And another.

And another.

The talks were nice and casual. What goes on in the asylum? What goes on in the outside? Who should I avoid? What's the reputation of the HPD?

Do you want to escape?

But it was only a matter of time before finally the two were friends.

Y/N was kinda just in her cell one night in bed. Then she just gasped and widened her eyes. Wait, are we friends? We're friends, right!

Michael already knew of their friendship like two weeks before she did. It felt so...wrong for him. He had always been alone and silent. How could someone like her even be so likeable to him? He didn't really understand it but he knew he hated it.

One day, the two were writing to each other per usual. Michael unintentionally added a pun in one of his comments, causing Y/N to giggle. Michael cocked his head to the side in confusion, strangely feeling heat rise his face and his heart speed up. It was air conditioned so he suspected he may have gotten sick.

Whenever the two had to go back to their cells, that feeling suddenly disappeared. Then it hit him. Oh fuck-

Hell, only a week later did Y/N feel herself experiencing the same symptoms. Michael notices that Y/N would shake and fidget a lot when they interacted, making him wonder of she was cold. As a friend, it was only right for him to sit next to her and hold her close to keep her warm, right? Y/N's face went red and damn that was embarrassing. But of course, that didn't mean Y/N wouldn't hug him back.

Eventually the two were basically cuddling. The two hugging each other warmly as Y/N rested her head on his chest, struggling to stay awake as they got more comfortable by the second.

But of course, Dr Loomis caught eye of that.

The doctor had been looking deep into al the interactions these two evil beings have had. They act so casual, so normal with each other, surely more than just drawing is happening between them, right?

The doctor had pulled them into his office separately to interrogate them. While Y/N bluntly answered his questions to make him just shut up as quickly as possible, she couldn't help but think to herself. She knows that she and Michael are mentally ill, but he should definitely be fixed by now. He's smart and creative and can casually talk to people, so it's like the only thing keeping him here is that the doctors are so ill-equipped that they can't make the necessary breakthrough to save him.

Of course, just a month later, another incident happened like this. Y/N was having a bad migraine so Michael got her to just sit down and wait for him during lunch. He brought over two trays of food for them and was sure to trade with Y/N so she can eat the things she likes and he could have the things she dislikes.

Another time, a bipolar guy ran into Michael and shoved him as if it was his fault. Michael shoved him back instinctively, causing a fight to disperse between the two. As security guards took notice, Y/N was quick to push Michael away softly and ball a fist to punch the fuck out of that guy- like a, "YO WHATCHU SAY ABOUT MY MAN?" type shit. Y/N did this to seem like she was hitting back and that Michael hadn't done anything wrong.

And when each other's birthday's rolled around, they had their own celebration. Y/N was given her own paper mache mask as a gift and a small cupcake from the cafe. Michael was given stolen art supplies that were taken from other guests and also a cupcake.

Y/N slowly stopped having panic attacks, but she definitely had her moments. Of course, Michael sat with her through it.

Dr Loomis recorded all this shit so he can gather data on Michael. Then the question hit him: How would Michael react if Y/N was gone for a few days? Does he truly care about her or is he just using her?

If you think Michael hated Loomis before, wait til he pieced together the disappearance of girlfriend and the extensive eyesight on him from security guards. For the hell he raised about it, he had to get sterilized and put into a cell without being able to get out for a few days.

Y/N remained bored in her cell for days. So what better could she do than annoy the guard watching her? She would just talk nonstop for what felt like hours and hours. The dude watching her was just getting more pissed off by the second.

"Would you shut up? Crazy bitch," he hissed, hitting the cell door. Y/N giggled cockily, shaking her head. Even if she deserved to be yelled at for continuing to talk, the Card of Death refused to back down. But when the guard went inside her cell and locked the door behind him, she got a bit worried.

Y/N got off her bed and threatened him cockily, to which he responded with physical force.

Of course, Smith's Groove is ill-equipped so even with proof of being hit and tazed, Y/N couldn't do anything to get the guard fired. But Michael?

A full month without seeing each other was like a slow suicide. But when they finally got to see each other again, the two was sure to write so much about their time alone as if they were teenage friends discussing their fun weekends. However, things turned dark whenever Y/N brought up the guard.

Michael didn't show any emotions at all, no matter what happens. But Y/N learned to guess how he's feeling depending on how long he takes to respond. Slowed blinking as if he was in thought, and slower reading as got analyze her writing closer were typically bad signs.

About a year had passed since they met at this time. A year to plan to escape. By now, the two were both 21 and fully prepared to leave once and for all.

Whenever that security guard had walked passed Michael's cell one night, Michael had knocked on the door to signal him. Michael slipped a paper through the doorslot, as he was given paper since he doesn't talk, saying he found a dead mouse in his cell. The guard just huffed and let himself inside. Michael pointed to where the mouse supposedly was; and that was a mistake for the guard.

Right as that guard went to look, Michael got behind and covered his mouth before stabbing him in the neck with a paint brush that's but carved into a small blade. Within moments, the guard dropped dead onto the floor.

Taking the keys from the guard, Michael was able to let out nearly every single prisoner to this hell out of their cells. Including Y/N.

The world sister was the only thing left of the pair as it was engraved into the door of Michael's cell. And just like that, the two were gone.

How they got there so fast doesn't matter but eventually Y/N and Michael found an abandoned house to station at until the search around the area disappeared and they could move around quicker.

"I can't fucking believe it," Y/N cheered as she felt tears run down her face from happiness. She swayed across the room, taking in the smell of dust and air. Even something dirty felt so new to her that couldn't help but love it at the moment.

Michael would watch her as he sat down in an old wooden chair, cocking his head. His body was in complete shock as the realization of all that's happened in the past years came crashing down on him. This was the real world? This is what dust smells like? This is what shattered glass and broken wood looks like? This is what trees look like up close? This is what things look like without glass tinting the color?

This is what it feels like to celebrate with someone you love? Michael reminded himself that the girl in front of him changed his life so much. His urge to harm all around him was always so strong, but the thought of her being hurt felt a bad taste in his mouth.

He stood up from the chair, walking towards the ecstatic girl as she cried happily to herself and picked up random things to remind herself of what they feel like and all she takes for granted. She turned her head to him, smiling, "Michael, look, I found a-"

Y/N gasped as Michael gripped his mask and slowly moved it. Y/N watched in awe as for the first time, she saw her only friend in this world's real face. That pale skin and soulless eyes that she grew familiar with became so new to her again.

"Michael..." she whispered, stepping closer to him. Her face heated up as she felt the weight his eyes staring down at her. She lightly bit her lip, a shiver going down her spine.

He took a few steps closer as well, making the two remain inches away from each other. Now at this point, Y/N is questioning if Michael is gonna kill her or is gonna kiss her as he awkwardly put his hand to her cheek, brushing her hair away. She leaned her head into his hand, keeping eye contact with him the whole time.

In just a matter of moments, the two came together in a soft kiss. The moment was quiet as the two did their best to remain calm and together as this moment that was little way's overdue continued.

When the two pulled away, Y/N was quick to wrap her arms around him. Now she wasn't going to cry about it, but damn was that contact she needed so badly. The Death Card and The Shape were basically Yin and Yang with how one is emotional and the other in emotionless but their need for pain and each other is what kept it healthy.

Just imagine how much suffering families went through since the two got out.

[gallaghersgal]

Songbird c2: Honey Hi || Frankie Morales

Pairing: Frankie Morales × gn!reader

Summary: A couple weeks after first meeting the kind bartender with the warm brown eyes, you begin to get to know him better.

Warnings: none ??

A/N: I can't believe im already losting chapter 2 what the hell its only been a week since this idea came to me

Wordcount: 2k

Series Masterlist

xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx

You stood back, looking at the loose outline of a song you had just scrawled across the chalkboard wall in your room. You had a good feeling about this one. All you needed was one good afternoon to sit down and put it to music before it would be ready for the citizens of Boston. You had picked up a couple of regulars after eight months of busking, they enjoyed your original songs and had even bought the shitty CDs you'd made with a mixture of covers and original material. Speaking of busking...

You looked out your window to make sure the bright, cloudless sky hadn't changed since sunrise, then grabbed your acoustic guitar and headed out.

The sun shined on you as you made your way through the streets of Boston, past restaurants and studios, across crosswalks and through the crowds. As you passed the Sunrise Theater, your thoughts fell warmly on the fond memories you had already made there. It had been a few weeks since Rumors in the Night started weekly gigs there. The money was doing you well, but you still took to the streets two or three times a week. It wasn't even really for the money, although a couple extra dollars from passerby was a bonus. What you really loved was the performance, sharing a part of yourself with an indifferent world. If you could bring a smile to the face of just one lonely passerby, you felt you had done good.

You set up in the shadow of a bank, in a small alcove where the walls would push your voice outwards. You sat your donation jar at your feet and unzipped your guitar case, pulling it out and beginning tuning. When everything was set, you began to sing.

"Honey, honey, honey / Who could be sweeter than you / Honey, honey, honey / Bitter sweet, but what can I do." 

You were completely carefree, singing on the streets of Boston. This city was beginning to feel a bit like home, although you knew you wouldn't be here for long. Your eyes were still fixed on LA, on the lights of Hollywood. You longed to see your name in lights, headlining at the Hollywood Palladium. 

"Lord it's been good to talk to you / Even sweeter than wine / Don't take the love light away / Cause I'm far away from home / Daddy, all I'm trying to tell you / Lord, I really love you, love you, love you."

This was a good song to warm up with, medium paced and not too vocally challenging. It sounded better with a full band, though. You would have to ask Fatima if you could put it on the setlist for your gig in the park this weekend.

"Honey, honey, honey, hi / honey, honey, honey hi / honey, honey, honey hi."

You watched a child come up and drop a few coins into your jar and you smiled, leading straight into your next song. You ran through Have You Ever Seen The Rain by Creedence Clearwater Revival, Waiting on the World to Change by John Mayer, Silver Springs by Fleetwood Mac and a couple others you had in your repertoire. You liked to finish up with Thank You for the Music by ABBA, it was a favorite of yours but it took a while to warm up for.

"Thank you for the music, the songs I'm singing / Thanks for all the joy they're bringing / Who can live without it, I ask in all honesty / What would life be? / Without a song or a dance what are we? / So I say thank you for the music / For giving it to me."

There was no one around, but you didn't care. This song meant something to you, and you were going to sing it for the world to hear.

"So I say / Thank you for the music, for giving it to me."

As you finished the song, a familiar face appeared in front of you. 

"You take requests?" Frankie asked, a smile tugging at his lips. 

You chuckled, grabbing our water bottle and taking a quick sip. "Yeah, if I know 'em. I was just about to pack up for lunch but one more song won't hurt. For a friend, of course."

"A friend?" he asked, a gleam in his eye.

"An acquaintance. Someone I know. But anyway, hit me."

"Landslide," he said, and you rolled your eyes. "What!? It's my favorite."

"You could pick something a little more original," you teased as you tucked your pick into your pocket and started to pluck the opening of the song. Frankie backed up against the lamp post to your right, settling his arms across his chest.

"I took my love, I took it down / I climbed a mountain and I turned around / and I saw my reflection in the snow covered hills / 'til the landslide brought me down."

The song was well known, and it brought you a small crowd almost immediately.

"Oh mirror in the sky, what is love / can the child within my heart rise above / can I sail through the changing ocean tides / can I handle the seasons of my life," you smiled softly, looking at the faces around you as they stopped to watch. 

"Well I've been afraid of changing cause I built my life around you / but time makes you bolder even / even children get older / and I'm getting older too."

You closed your eyes, letting the music take you over. You lost yourself in the song until it was over and the five or so people around you were clapping quietly and nodding in appreciation. 

"Thank you, thank you," you stooped to place your guitar in its case, watching from the corner of your eye as the onlookers drop a dollar or two into your jar. You looked up when you saw a twenty flutter into the jar, your eyes meeting Frankie's kind gaze.

"No, no I can't-"

"Nonsense," he said, "I liked your music, and you deserve it."

You zipped up your guitar case, taking the bill from the jar and pressing it back into Frankie's hand. "I can't take your money, Frankie."

He chuckled at your persistence. "Alright, alright. You said you were headed to lunch?"

You shrugged, "I was gonna go home, maybe make myself some ramen…"

"On a day like this?" Frankie shook his head, then jerked it to the side, asking for you to follow him. "C'mon, we're getting you some real food."

You huffed out a breathless laugh as you slung your guitar case across your back. "Maybe that's a good idea. I've been living here for nine months and the only restaurant i've ever really been to is the Thai place over on Matthews."

"You can't be serious," his voice was thick with disbelief as he looked back at you. You nodded, confirming your statement was true and he hadn't heard you wrong.  "What about the others, Ezra and them… Are they the same?"

"Ezra's a native Bostonian, but he's not big on restaurants. Julian and Cade both moved here around a year ago and me and Fatima have been here for nine months, we moved together. So we're all pretty new here, except for Ezra." You watched with curious eyes as Frankie waved to a man across the street selling snow cones. He was just so personable, no wonder it felt like you'd known him forever even though it had only been a couple of weeks since you met. He adjusted his gait for a second so you'd fall into place beside him, and for a moment you felt your heart flutter. 

"I'm from Eastern North Carolina, originally-"

"I can hear it, you've got a bit of an accent," there was a twang to some of the words he spoke, something that gave him a bit of a southern gentleman flair. And he was a gentleman, as far as you could tell.

He laughed at that, nodding in agreement. "Folks here say that too. I moved her when I was eighteen but I guess it never really left me."

"You can take the man out of the south-"

"But you can't take the south from the man," Frankie finished. His cheeks were tinted a little pink, a smile falling into place on his lips.

Momentarily, you paused to admire him. "Do you miss home?"

He shrugged, "Yeah, I miss it sometimes. I go back once a year over the summer, to visit my family. My sister and my nephews are still down there, and my mom and dad. But this is my home now, I don't think I'll ever leave."

You found yourself in front of a corner hotdog shop, and Frankie opened the door for you. The place looked like it was straight out of the 60's, checkered tile and all. "This is real food?"

Frankie looked offended as he sat down in one of the booths. "And here I thought you'd appreciate this," he pulled one of the menus out and handed one to you as you slid in across from him. 

You looked over the menu, looking for something that would catch your eye. "What do you suggest," you asked Frankie, laying your menu flat and tucking your feet up under the booth so you wouldn't kick him.

"This." He pointed out a burger, and you had to admit it looked good. "Best burger I've ever had, I swear on everything holy you'll love it."

The waiter came and took your orders, you got the burger Frankie had suggested and a strawberry milkshake to go with it. Afterwards, you found yourself staring off at the Jukebox by the counter. You wondered what they had in there, and if it was automated or authentic.

As if reading your thoughts, Frankie tossed you a quarter. You barely caught it, watching in confusion as he stood. "It's old school, just like everything else in here." You followed him over to the jukebox, and laughed when he pulled out a pair of reading glasses to see the small print of the track listing.

"What are you, fifty?" you teased.

"Watch it," he returned with a playful glare. "I'm paying for your lunch."

"Frankie you don't have to-" you started, but he shook his head.

"I'm paying, end of story. Can't have you thinking I'm not a gentleman." Your eyes fell on the gentle crinkles by his eyes that showed up when he smiled, and you wondered how anyone could mistake him for anything other than a gentleman. But you kept your mouth closed. "Now c'mon, pick a song, Songbird."

* * * * * * * * * * *

That night you found yourself sitting with Fatima, eating ice cream and watching a baking marathon on the food network. But your thoughts weren't on the contestants' lemon meringue pies. You were staring at the wall, your lunch with Frankie running through your head. Your lunch… date? No, that wasn't a date. That was just a lunch between acquaintances. Between friends.

You began to turn to Fatima, but as always she was ahead of you. She had turned down the TV and was already turned towards you, waiting. "He likes you."

You weren't even surprised, Fatima knew you better than anyone else. Of course she knew what you were thinking. "You think so?" you asked, and Fatima glared at you.

"Yes, I know so."

You tucked your knees against your chest, pulling your spoon out of your tub of Ben and Jerry's and chewing on it a little. Frankie was a kind man, you didn't want to read too much into his actions. But still, he had taken you out to lunch. And payed for your meal. And given you a nickname. "He called me songbird," you mused.

"Thats… That's adorable oh my god." Fatima sighed wistfully, eating a spoonful of her ice cream. "You should invite him to the show on Saturday!"

"I did. Well, I really just told him about it. But he said he'd be there. Is Landslide on the setlist?" you asked, and Fatima nodded. "Good. It's his favorite."

"What would you say if he asked you out?"

"I think…" you paused, but there was no need to. "I think I'd say yes."

End.

Permanent Taglist: @poestardust @tinyphantomsalad @thelazyhero-ttums @poe-djarin @djarinsidebitch

Pedro Taglist: @blackmarketmummy @coldlilheart @agentshortstacc

Frankie Taglist: @remmysbounty

[sunnyie-eve]

2 | Just Like You

Series: Need You (Douglas Booth!Nikki Sixx x OFC)

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: Language, Alcohol

Part 1

"So, you mind telling me who does the singing in this band?" My brother asks. "What we need is a dude that looks like David Lee Roth, with a vibe like fucking Bowie. And I'm not going to settle for some regular looking, normal sounding asshole." Nikki says opening a beer again. "So, we're looking for a skinny, blonde fucker with moves." My brother says while sipping his beer. "I think I know your guy, dudes." I say causing the three to look over at me interested.

"How do you know our guy?" Mick asks me as he drinks his beer. "A few weeks ago my girlfriends took me to this little backyard party and he was singing with his band. They have these parties every Saturday so I can take you three to him tomorrow." I smile at them. "We can go get a look at him tomorrow." Nikki nods his head. They all finish up their beers before going back to practice the other songs Nikki had. As it got later Mick says we got to head back home and we'll stop by tomorrow for them to practice then for me to take them to meet their potential lead singer.

"Nice meeting you Mick, Melissa." Tommy waves at us as we head out the door. "Nice meeting you too Tommy and Nikki." I smile heading out behind Mick. "Melissa." Nikki calls my name so I turn around, "Huh?" I raise my eyebrows. "Did you think I didn't remember you from the diner?" He laughs. "I actually was hoping you did. I got to go because Mick gets annoyed quickly." I run down the stairs to the car. "What do you think about the band so far?" I ask Mick as we drive. "Not bad so far. Great music. Hopefully your dude can fit us well."

The next day we headed back over to Nikki's and Tommy wasn't there yet. "How long have you been working at the diner? I always go there and never noticed you until a couple of days ago." Nikki asks, messing with his bass as Mick messed with his guitar. "Since I was sixteen and I'm always working in my section so maybe that's why. You must sit in Dottie's section all the time." I explain to him before Tommy comes in so they start to practice songs.

Once they were done I told Mick where to go to see the guy I wanted them to see. As we part a few houses down Tommy gets happy looking at me, "Wait, you know Vince too!" Tommy asks, amazed. "You know him too?" I ask. "Went to high school with him." Tommy says nodding his head. When we enter the backyard Nikki and my brother try to seem like bad asses but Tommy was too friendly to match their energy. "A fucking cover band?" My brother asks not to impressed. "Yeah, but I'm telling you, he's unique enough for the band." I state as we all walk over to a table and my brother beats Tommy to the liquor bottle. "His voice ain't bad." Mick comments on the blonde. "I don't care if he can sing or not. Look what he's doing with those chicks." Nikki comments amazed, making me roll my eyes in disgust. There's a difference in being a fan in your music and a groupie, stupid. But then again you're a guy and that's what you want.

As they finish the song, the crowd cheers and Vince announces their band, Rock Candy, making Mick groan. "Shitty name." He states causing me to agree. "He's fucking perfect man!" Tommy says in excitement. "Pretty good. Got moves." Nikki says looking at him. "Give me the tape." I tell Nikki, who hands it to me, causing me to smile at him. "Be back in a bit." I say quickly as I make my way over to the bar and Tommy follows me.

"Would you get a load of this blonde haired bitch?" Tommy hits Vince's back. "Hey Vince!" I say holding the tape as he turns around. "Tommy, damn! And Mel, babe!" He smiles at us. "Come here, fucker!" Tommy and him hug then Vince pulls me into a hug too. "How have you been?" Vince asks me acting like Tommy wasn't there. "I've been good, I'm actually helping out my brother and Tommy's new band." I point over at Nikki and Mick, who stare at us blankly. "Dude, we watched you kill it today, man. You've got to come jam with us." Tommy says making Vince chuckle. "Come on, I got something going on. I can't." He says then looks at me. "Just listen to this, you don't have to sign up right now, just give it a chance." I smile showing him the tape. "I'll think about it." He smiles at me as Tommy runs back to the others.

"I think he's in!" I hear Tommy tell the others. "You guys are welcome." I say, causing Tommy to pull me into a hug lifting me off the ground. "Let her down!" My brother states annoyed making Tommy put me down. "Good job, Mel." Nikki smiles, handing me a drink and I look at Mick, who nods his head yes so I take the beer.

~

"How did you end up with your older brother?" Nikki asked curiously as we both drank leaning against the wall still at the party. "We're actually half siblings, same mother, she slept around with many guys. My actual father didn't want me to be with her so he took me when I was just two. He wasn't much of a good father though either, he was a druggie, just like our mother. When I was eight my father just got up and left me. Mick was only nineteen when he had to take me in and since then we haven't left each other." I shyly smile at him while taking a drink of my beer.

"My mother was an alcoholic cunt, and my dad left me when I was two." He says, making my eyes widen. "I guess you're just like me." He jokes smiling down at me. "Yep, I guess I'm sorta like you." I nudged him playfully making his smile bigger. "I like you Melissa, you're a unique person." Nikki says before walking away to find more alcohol. As I watch him disappear into the group of people Tommy jumps in front of me startling me. "Tommy, please that's not funny." I hold my chest as he throws me over his shoulder. "Come on, your brother is ready to leave. Now we just need to find Nikki." He says tapping my butt running off with me to find Nikki.

Once Tommy spotted Nikki walking back to where we just were he yells for him. "Why are you holding Melissa like that?" Nikki asked, confused. "Mick is ready to head out. So I got Melissa for him and plus I had to look for you." Tommy laughed as I was getting dizzy. "Thanks for leaving me alone Nikki!" I say annoyed. Tommy turned around so I could see Nikki. "I wanted more alcohol, sorry." He laughs so I slap his cup out of his hand making it hit the ground. Nikki gave me the, you're going to regret that look. "Tommy RUN!" I slap his butt hard making him run out of the backyard to the car where Mick was waiting.

"Mel, you fucking bitch! Tommy bring her ass back here now!" Nikki chases after us down the street. When we were in sight of my brother he looked completely done with us. "What are you fuckers doing? Tommy, Why are you carrying my sister?" He asked as Tommy approached him and Nikki was coming up fast. "AHHH!" I screamed as Nikki came up to Tommy and me. "MICK!" I yelled as Tommy ran around the car as Nikki chased him. "I got you Melissa!" Tommy said staying away from Nikki. "Stop fucking around and get in the car, you dicks!" Mick said getting in the driver's seat.

Me and Tommy got in the back while Nikki got in the passenger seat. "Now you can't run, you two." Nikki laughs turning around to reach for me. "Mick! Stop him!" I yell trying to move out of Nikki's reach basically getting on Tommy's lap. "I fucking hate you guys." Mick says starting the car. "It's your sister's fault. She wasted a perfectly good cup of alcohol by slapping it out of my hand." Nikki looks back glaring at me. "Like you don't have enough alcohol back at your place?" He reaches back slapping my leg.

Part 3

[discoursecatharsis]

i'm a bit out of the loop, everyone says how shitty of a human onision is there like a full list/explanation of all his crimes/shitty behavior? i already know he had a relationship with a minor so yikes

Ooh boy, it’s A Lot. He’s had a relationship with at least two minors, actually.

This person did a timeline of his abusive behavior, there’s a google doc linked in this tweet.

https://twitter.com/OnionUnprivated/status/1185209032648396800

The doc is over 100 pages though, so I’ll try to summarize as well to make it a bit shorter (though it’s still gonna be long so it’s going under a “read more”).

The tl;dr:

Basically he treated his first wife like crap, and was very creepy towards his wife’s younger sister. Divorced his wife for a 17 year old when he was ~25. Dated another women in her 20s during a break-up with this 17 year old but she caught onto his manipulative behavior quickly and dumped him after 3 weeks. He got back with the 17 (now 18) year old but they break up for good a little later. Soon after, he enters a relationship with ANOTHER 17-year-old (his current spouse, named Kai). Kai identified as a woman at the time and went by the name Lainey, but now is a transguy and goes by he/him pronouns. When Onision is 31 and Kai is 22, they enter a polyamorous relationship with an 18 year old girl.They treat her like crap, and she eventually breaks up with them. There were other girls (in their late-teens or early 20s) who came close to being in a relationship with them after that. During this time, Kai had a 16 year old “friend” who lived with them, Kai had power of attorney over her because she didn’t have a good home life. That girl has recently come forward with allegations that Greg and Kai began a sexual relationship with her shortly after she turned 18 last year, and that Kai was inappropriate with her while she was still underage. Basically they groomed her to be a third person in their relationship. Other Youtubers have come to support her and bring awareness to it to get Onision off of Youtube, some of Onision’s ex’s have come out of the woodwork with their stories, and even Chris Hansen has gotten involved.

Now onto the full list of his shitty behavior.

cw: descriptions of abusive behavior, including sexual abuse

Let’s start with his first wife, Skye:

They met in high school. I believe they’re either the same age or he’s a year older. They got married shortly after they graduated high school because he was in the military.

Onision (whose real name is Greg) left the military and started Youtube and Skye joined him in making videos together.

During their marriage, Skye said that Greg would shame her for not wearing shorts under her skirt, said that would lead to her being raped. He also insulted her for having long hair (said it made her look “Amish”). She also said that he wouldn’t let her hang out with friends or family because that’s less time/attention she’s spending with/giving him. That THEY were abusive for taking her away from her husband. He also had possession of the one phone in the house, so she shouldn’t call her family easily. He wouldn’t allow her to have a full-time job because he wanted her help making videos for the Youtube channel.

A few years into their marriage, Greg started talking to a 16 year old fan name Shiloh. They became friends and talked on Skype for hours a day. Skye begins to feel depressed.

One day out of the blue, Greg presented divorce papers to Skye and said he was leaving her for Shiloh. She was in tears, obviously upset,and he made her sign some “divorce contract.”

Skye eventually is able to visit her family, where she immediately breaks down and tells them what happened. Her sister helps her collect her things from Greg’s home. The “divorce contract” she signed was later thrown out in court because it was signed under duress.

After they divorce, Skye rightfully demands alimony. The courts grant her this. For YEARS after though, Greg emails her, complaining and begging her to bring a stop to the payments. He even threatens to take his life at one point. She ignores him and he continued paying (though with complaints and accusing her of being equivalent to a slave owner and a lot of other dumb crap).

While that was going on, there were also some incidents with Skye’s younger sister, Alicia.

Alicia alleges that when she was 15 and Greg was 18, she got drunk and Greg tried to kiss her. She dodged him and walked away to a friend. For years though, Greg had told a story in videos that she tired to kiss HIM and he acted like he was so noble for dodging HER kiss.

After divorcing Skye, Greg emailed Alicia constantly asking her to film videos together. Very clearly coming onto her though and wanting to hook up. He got so bad, she eventually lied to him and told him she was leaving the country so that he’d leave her alone and stop messaging her.

She had taken some boudoir (nude) photos that Onision searched out and found online. He saved them to his computer and showed these photos to at least two future girlfriends and admitted to pleasuring himself to the photos. Alicia was understandably creeped out by this when she found out.

Now back to that 16-year-old, Shiloh

She’s 17 at this point. Onision is about 25. She thought she had just been speaking to Onision as friends, so she was blindsided when he showed her divorce papers over Skype and said “I’m leaving my wife for you.”

She’s from Canada and was a pretty successful up-and-coming pop star up there at the time. She’s in the states for a show or something, and he drives to meet her. He goes to her hotel and they immediately have sex, she said that he didn’t even give her time to say “hey how was your trip?”

They enter a relationship quickly. There’s a lot that happens, as Shiloh has recently reappeared online and given her side of events. Basically, like Skye, he also isolated her from family and friends. Made her drop her singing career to help with his Youtube channel.

She said that Greg is very sexual and they would be intimate a lot. She said they’d have sex multiple times a day and that he’s very rough. He would hurt her during these times, and since this was her first sexual relationship, she didn’t realize that it wasn’t normal, and apparently he never checked in on her or never asked her if she was okay with the things they did. One time during sex, he stopped, took her to the bathroom and shaved her head without her consent, called her some degrading names, and then continued. She found this very humiliating and de-feminizing.

She has a seizure one day and loses a bit of her memory. She’s frightened and doesn’t know where she is. Instead of calling 911 for an ambulance, Onision films it and uploads it to his channel.

She has another breakdown at some point and ends up in the mental ward of a hospital. He doesn’t come to get her, her mom does. She went back to him for some reason.

She gets pregnant and suffers a miscarriage. The fetus never passed though, and she gets sepsis a few weeks later. Greg never cared, straight-up told her that he wasn’t going to pay for the medical bills. She goes home to Canada to get medical treatment, and her mom takes her passport to prevent her from going back to him.

She’s bullied online by Onision’s fans and disappears from the internet for years afterwards. She’s only recently begun to have a singing career again.

Next is a woman named Adrienne:

First, she wrote a letter about everything she went through if you want to read it, it’s a doozy but I’ll summarize it in bullet points cause it’s long. https://onisiondrama.tumblr.com/letter

This relationship happened during/in-between one of Greg’s break-ups with Shiloh.

Adrienne is in her 20s, closer to Greg’s age, maybe just a year younger. Also a fan of his that starts talking to him. He expresses interests in her and they start dating.

Long story short, Adrienne eventually realizes that Greg is crazy obsessive. He gets annoyed if she doesn’t answer his Skype calls or if she hangs out with friends too much.

She agrees to meet him in person anyway. He flies down to her state, and again just like with Shiloh, immediately initiates sex as soon as they get into the hotel room. There are questions of if he forced himself on her, because she said “no, no, no” but he continued. He even came in her when she said not too, and bought her plan B the next day.

He was very adamant about her moving in with him. He pressured her into quitting her job and re-homing her pets, which she was hesitant about. She agrees though and moves in with him.

Moves in very briefly though, as he throws a tantrum because she wasn’t paying attention to him or something. She catches on to his controlling behavior and leaves and breaks up with him for good.

He goes onto his Youtube channel and slanders her, and also leaves like 13 voice mails on her phone while she was at work.

All of this happened in the span of like 3 weeks, mind you.

Many believe the reason this relationship was so short-lived is because, with Adrienne being older, she didn’t fall for his abusive, manipulative tactics as easily and had more knowledge and confidence to leave him before things got bad. Notice this is the only relationship Greg enters where the partner is NOT in their teens at the start.

Next up is Laineybot/Kai, also now his accomplice in these crimes. Just this year, Kai came out of trans and uses he/him pronouns now. But when Kai first entered the picture, he went by the name Lainey (with the Youtube channel/name Laineybot) with she/her pronouns. During his transition, he also identified as nonbinary at one point and went by they/them pronouns. So excuse me if I make any mistakes and accidentally misgender at times when referring to Kai in past incidents.

Onision started talking to and dating Kai when he was 17. Like his other relationships, Kai was a fan of his. Kai’s family didn’t approve of their relationship.

Kai graduated high school and his parents sent him to college to live in a dorm… or so they thought. Kai went behind their backs and moved in with Greg (who had moved down to Kai’s state).

Shortly after Kai turned 18, they got married in court. Kai moved up to Greg’s state with him.

Kai got pregnant very soon after. They have two kids now. With the second pregnancy, Kai said that Greg wasn’t very enthusiastic and I believe Kai drove himself to the hospital when he was in labor. Some husband Greg is.

Greg also would get into frequent fights on Twitter with Kai. Example: Kai once made a tweet talking about a fun memory he had with his mom. Greg jumped in to say “your mom also did (bad thing) to you.” Kai told him to stop and he didn’t. In the public eye on twitter, so damn childish to shame your spouse’s parents and not stop when asked.

Kai is also complicit in grooming allegations that I haven’t gotten to yet. So Kai is just as bad if not worse than Greg, but also a victim of his too too. I personally believe he wouldn’t be like this if he had never met Greg. It’s too late now though.

Next in line is Billie. When Kai was still trying to figure out his identity and was switching between identifying as a woman and non-binary (and still going by Lainey at this time), Kai expressed wanting a girlfriend, which Greg supported. In comes a girl named Billie.

Billie is a newly 18-year-old Instagram model. Onision is 31 at this point and Kai is 22.

Basically Billie started as a girlfriend for Kai, but Greg weaseled his way into their relationship.

It was really gross how Greg would talk about how “beautiful” it was for “two women to make love” too (keep in mind, Kai’s experiencing dysphoria and has doubts about identifying as a women at this point, so I’m sure that’s nice to hear from your husband /s). He has this clear obsession with threesomes and polyamorous relationships, specifically f/m/f. It’s obvious that the dude just wants a harem of attractive women at his beck-and-call and doesn’t really care about his spouse exploring their sexuality.

Lots of ups and downs with Billie. Basically I think they had an agreement that they would only do intimate things together with all 3 of them. But at one point Kai leaves to run errands or visit family or something and Greg and Billie sleep together. Kai is furious but blames Billie instead of, y’know, his husband, as if it doesn’t take two to tango.

They blamed Billie a lot for being a homewrecker. Never blamed the much older responsible adult Greg, no, they blame the 18 year old.

Greg almost leaves Kai for Billie. Kai is pregnant with their 2nd kid at this point, and Greg literally almost signs over his kids to leave Kai for an 18 year old. Billie had enough though and left for good.

Billie smoked weed and Greg didn’t like that and shamed her for it. Apparently Billie smoking weed betrayed Greg and Kai’s trust, and Greg wanted Billie to be punished for it by… being tied up in his basement (”because it’d be hot” he said), shaving her head, and getting a tattoo as an “apology.” She declined and he shamed her for it.

Another reason Billie left them is because Greg wouldn’t allow her to see her family when she wanted. Greg tried to justify this by saying “Lainey only sees her family twice a year.” Another example of how isolating he is.

After breaking up for good, Billie called Greg “the worst person I’ve ever met,” Greg went on twitter and revealed very personal information about Billie, something an ex did to her. Billie was distraught as you can imagine, that her personal info was made public for all of twitter.

Next is Sarah. Sarah is the victim of the grooming accusations. She’s the person who first came out with all this a couple months ago and got the ball rolling.

Sarah was 14 when she started talking to Kai (who was going Lainey at the time). Just a fan who reached out and they became friends.

Sarah didn’t have a good home life, and expressed this to Kai. Kai invited Sarah to live with him and Greg. She accepted the invited and Sarah moved in with them. Her mom signed over “power of attorney” to Kai (so that Kai could take her to a doctor and stuff). Sarah was 16 at this time.

Sarah was around during the relationship with Billie, just to help with the timeline.

Outwardly Sarah appeared to just be friends with Greg and Kai, but recently she revealed things were not on Just Friend levels.

Sarah alleges that she and Kai would cuddle in bed together. Kai also spoke to Sarah sexually too, like telling her about how Greg was like in bed. As a 22-year-old, you do NOT discuss that stuff with your 16-year-old friend, that’s so inappropriate.

The biggest allegation: while she was still underage, Sarah and Kai  exchanged nudes. THIS is where the possible criminal charges come in, because Kai very well could go to jail for possession of child porn.

Greg was always cruel to Sarah when she was 16/17. It’s clear in videos when they had outings to like a trampoline/gymnastics place that he would bully her. He says that he treats teenagers badly so that they “won’t like him like that” but it’s really freakin’ weird. As an adult, you should be able to interact with teens WITHOUT bullying them “so they don’t fall in love with you” (? or something) wtf?? If a teen expresses interest in you, you shut that down, it’s not that hard, you don’t have to bully them and make them hate you.

When things were going south with Billie, Sarah said that at one point Greg said to Kai “why don’t we just wait for Sarah (to turn 18)?”

Sarah says that after she turned 18, they did start being sexual with her. Onision is 33 and Kai is 24 at that point. The three of them were watching a movie one night, when Sarah looked over and saw Greg and Kai having sex. Greg asked Sarah to join them, and she did because she felt pressured. 

They continued being sexual with her. She and Greg were intimate together, just the two of them at one point when Kai was out of town.

Sarah released a screenshot of a conversation between Greg and Kai where they were arguing over Sarah’s virginity (it’s so gross ugh)

The allegations first came out much earlier this year, from a friend of Billie’s who witnessed Sarah’s interactions in the home and felt something wasn’t right. Greg forced Sarah to release a video statement saying that the allegations were bogus and that Kai is innocent. That was back in like January or February. Recently Sarah released a “blooper” of her filming that statement where she was crying and saying she hated that she had to do this as more evidence that she was forced, along with texts of Greg instructing her on what to say.

Sarah hasn’t released much more details than that, but it’s clear that they groomed her so that they could engage in a sexual relationship with her as soon as they were legally able too.

And that only covers the major people in Onision’s life. There were other teenagers  also. To put it shortly, there were girls who were mainly texting Kai, almost like Kai was luring them in as “candidates” to be the 3rd person in their relationship. Lots of teenagers (mostly 17-19 year olds, maybe one 20 year old) that Kai more-or-less led on into being a relationship with just him, only for the teens to be blindsided with “btw, Greg gets in on the relationship too.” And Greg did indeed worm his way in, either through DMs or physically. Very skeevy. One of these people named Regina also exchanged nudes with Kai when they were underage. I believe they’re pursuing legal charges for that. Sarah said there are other girls who were never made public also. Greg may not be able to be charged with any crimes here, as he’s always very careful to skirt the law.

Outside of relationship troubles, he’s just a shitty, greedy person.

He treats his pets badly. A former friend took his guinea pigs because he wasn’t taking proper care of them. They get new dogs as if they’re fashion accessories.

Apparently he’s an awful father too and Kai does most of the parenting. People in their life have said that Greg doesn’t even talk to his youngest kid because she can’t speak back to him… she’s freakin’ TWO. She’s a toddler, ofc she can’t talk, how do you expect them to learn to talk if you don’t talk to them?

He’s very money-hungry. Youtube’s adpocalypse really did a number on them, but they were living WAY above their means. Had this mansion of a house, a second house that he used for filming, two teslas, and lots of expensive crap. They had to “downgrade” to a slightly smaller mansion and self the second house and sell the teslas (he recently bought another one though). During this time, he basically guilt-tripped his audience for not giving him money, said that fans who didn’t pledge to his Patreon weren’t “true fans.”

Dude is a really shitty person all around. He’s had this coming and I really hope this is finally his downfall. I first heard of him during the Shiloh incident and a little into his marriage to Kai, then he dropped off my radar until the Billie incident and I was like “how is this guy still around and still allowed to treat people like this?!” and have been following this train wreck ever since.

[alphacrone]

Heart Like Mine - or, Bitty finds himself in a McDonald’s on a lonely, Wednesday evening

[Part of the Blue-Eyed Jack ‘verse - Takes place in Nashville, long before Jack and Bitty meet...]

CW: mentions of homophobia, running away, vague mentions of homelessness, a very very lonely boy reconsiders his life choices, hopeful ending i promise

AN: So I was listening to Emily’s FANTASTIC playlist she made for Bitty in this universe and actually started crying at work thinking about Bitty when Heart Like Mine came on, so I had to write this little piece. 

Cause I heard Jesus He drank wine And I bet we'd get along just fine He could calm a storm and heal the blind And I bet He'd understand a heart like mine

-Miranda Lambert, Heart Like Mine

Eric didn’t know why he was here.

And — gosh — it was weird to think of himself as Eric, but that was the only name people knew him by in Nashville. He grew up as Baby and Dicky and Junior, as Sweetheart and Boo Boo and Champ. He went by other names as he got older, crueler names hissed at him in hallway at school, shouted at him from across the street. The kids in first grade called him Little Bittle, but even that seemed preferable to Eric in this moment. Eric was the lonely name of a lonely boy hundreds of miles away from a place he couldn’t call home. But it was the only name he had anymore.

It still didn’t explain why he felt the need to wander into a random church on a rainy, Wednesday evening.

Back in Georgia, Eric had attended church every single Sunday with his mama and Coach. He took communion with half the town, and it was the one moment in the whole week he felt like he was one of them. The reverend didn’t have the nicest things to say about boys like him, but when he spoke of love and peace and turning the other cheek, Eric felt like he could survive Madison and come out the other side a better person than he’d been before.

Well, he’d survived. But he’d become someone he didn’t know, someone who left in the middle of the night with no goodbye, save for the note on the kitchen table that read, I’m sorry. I love you. Don’t look for me.

Eric hadn’t signed it; that was the moment he shed all the names of his past, like he’d scraped off a snakeskin on the doorframe as he walked away.

Now that he sat here, in the back pew of an empty church, shivering under the blast of the A/C, Eric wondered if he’d ever grow his new skin, or if he’d feel this raw and tender forever.

In the lobby, he could hear someone vacuuming the carpet. Somehow it comforted Eric to know he wasn’t the only person in the building. He thought he’d come here to find God, to have one of those religious epiphanies that only happens when you’re the only one for miles, but maybe he’d just been looking for home.

“This is dumb,” he murmured, standing too quickly. He’d worked long and hard today — construction jobs were ruthless but paid better than the shitty tips he’d been getting at TGI Friday’s — and hadn’t eaten since breakfast. The world spun as he stumbled back out of the church, face and hands going cold and numb. The rain was coming down harder now, and Eric was just grateful he’d managed to save up enough to rent a closet-sized room in a sketchy sublease. Maybe he’d stop by a Bojangles and treat himself to chicken and biscuits, if only to fill his stomach better than a ramen pack would.

Eric didn’t find a Bojangles anywhere between the church and his apartment, to his disappointment, but he did find a McDonald’s, which was almost as good. The food was hot and salty and made him forget his aching muscles or the fact that after living in Nashville for several months he’d yet to land any sort of gig — not even at an old folks’ home or at an open-mic. The best he’d done was the day a kind woman dropped a twenty in his open guitar case as he busked on the Strip — one of ten curbside singers in a five-block radius. Maybe he’d have had more luck hitchhiking down to Austin to try his luck among the Willie Nelson- and Stevie Ray Vaughan-wannabes. But Eric couldn’t imagine having more than one state line between him and the family he’d left behind, as far away as he felt now.

“Give me a sign,” he said, staring down at his half-eaten burger and fries. “Give me a sign to give up and move on with my life.”

Eric didn’t know if he was speaking to God or the universe or the spirit of the cow that was now his dinner, but it didn’t matter. He’d take anything as an omen now, take any sort of permission to let his dreams die and move on from the bright lights of Nashville.

“Hey, uh, do you mind if I sit here? I don’t really want to eat alone.”

Eric looked up into warm, brown eyes peering down at him curiously. They belonged a boy — no, a young man — who couldn’t have been much older than Eric himself. He wore one of those Best Buy ‘Geek Squad’ polos and looked as worn as Eric felt, but his smile was bright and kind.

“Sure,” Eric said, voice coming out as more of a surprised squeak. “I’m- I’m Eric.”

“Abel,” the man said. He sat down in the seat across from Eric, setting down his tray. “And thanks. I was gonna take this home, but my roommates are out and I guess I just wasn’t ready to sit in an empty apartment by myself.”

There was a loneliness in Abel’s eyes that felt achingly familiar. Eric nodded in understanding.

“I’m grateful for the company,” he said, picking at the seeds on his bun. “I was feelin’ a bit lonely myself.”

Abel smiled at him and they dug into their meals in a comfortable silence. After a couple minutes, Abel swallowed a large mouthful of burger and asked, “So, Eric, what do you do?”

Ah, the horrors of smalltalk. “Oh, um, right now I’m working in construction. S’the best work I could find. Been thinking ‘bout saving up to take a class or something, maybe get into something vocational.” He nodded at Abel’s shirt. “Never really had booksmarts. ‘C’s get degrees’ and all that.” He laughed nervously.

“You know anything about bartending?” Abel asked. “My cousin’s got a little dive near here, he’s looking for a bartender. Pays decently, not nearly as dangerous as construction.”

“Sadly, no,” Eric said with a shrug. “Only time I’ve ever spent in bars has been going to shows. I’m only 19.”

“That’s old enough for plenty of people,” Abel said, not unkindly. “What shows do you go to?”

Eric shrugged, popping a french fry into his mouth. “Mostly country, lots of up-and-coming singers and bands. Sometimes more indie stuff, but country’s my thing, for better or worse.”  

“You a singer?” Abel asked around a mouthful of food. When Eric nodded, he continued, “You should sign up for the open mic battle at Black-Eyed Susan’s — it’s this terrible bar that only stays open because it hosts really fun competitions and shows and stuff.”

“Oh.” Eric sat a little straighter. This wasn’t the sign he’d asked for at all, but he’d be a fool not to see it as the opportunity it was. “Yeah, that’d be- that’d be great.”

“Here,” Abel pulled a pen from his pocket and scribbled vague directions down on a napkin. “I forget the address, but it’s not that far from here. If you talk to a girl named Jenny, tell her I sent you.” He paused, smiling goofily. “That’s my sister. She’s the best.”

Eric laughed. “I’m sure she is. Thank you, this is- I walked in here ready to give up and you really turned my night around.”

Abel shrugged, looking embarrassed. “It’s nothing. I thought I’d be eating by myself and now I have a new friend. Sometimes magical things can happen in a McDonald’s on a rainy day, Eric.”

But it wasn’t magic, or even divine intervention. The universe didn’t really care what happened to Eric, but maybe Nashville would.

“Call me Bitty,” he said after a moment. Itty Bitty Bittle, he could hear the boys in the locker room jeering, but the memory didn’t hurt like it once had. He’d show them; he’d show them all what Bitty could do. “No one’s ever really called me Eric. I go by Bitty.”

Abel shrugged and smiled and said, “Well, then, it’s real nice to meet you, Bitty. I really can’t wait to hear you sing.”

[Blue-Eyed Jack Masterpost]

[Writing tag]

[My online novel, The Discourt Knife]

[travisxsimmons]

old man

travis’s shitty moments turn even shitter after seeing his dad at the bar, gts all around!!

“You alright, darlin’?”

Travis glanced up from his fist to the bartender as she eyed him. She was an older lady with make-up way too heavy for her age, and she wore a sympathetic expression. He wasn’t exactly sober, but in compassion to the rest of the drunk idiots there, she seemed to have actually taken pity on him.

“Not so much, but that’s nothing another hit can’t fix,” he sighed, tapping against the glass and wincing.

“Sure thing, but...you might wanna think about cleaning up those hands, sweetie. Not that I suspect anything, it’s just a bit odd looking, that’s all,” she shrugged.

Travis’s eyes darted back down to his bloodied knuckles. So maybe beating the shit out of Whitney’s ex wasn’t the best thing to celebrate with a drink. In fact, celebrate wasn’t the right word. It was a kind of mourning, in a way. If anything were to bring death to their relationship, this was it. All the little things like Miami, the bathroom, Molly, the karaoke video, and nude’s being leaked all seemed to lead to this one particular downfall.

“Yeah, well...the prick deserved it. It’s kind of like a badge of honor at this point,” Travis shrugged, tossing back his refill as if it were water. And it was true. He’d gotten an incoming of texts: Molly, Dylan, Philip, Meredith. All of them asked a mix of if he’d seen the photos, what was going on, if was Whitney okay. He didn’t know, though, not until it was too late. He’d caught enough of the live-stream to send out a rare, angry tweet to Woody, one that he was sure his publicist would be on his ass for later. The moment that was brought up and laughed at over Instagram, something snapped. It was personal from that point on. He knew it may have been stupid or even hypocritical considering the countless times he’d hurt Whitney himself, but something about driving to his place and watching Woody wincing against each blow directed towards his face was worth it. Just because he’d fucked with her head didn’t mean anyone else should’ve had the right or gotten pleasure from it. Maybe that’s what felt so good about seeing Woody’s wrecked face and walking away with bloodied hands. It was an eye for an eye.

“Honey,” she sighed as he tapped it once more. “Are you sure you don’t wanna slow down? I don’t want you doing anything else too stupid.”

“Carla,” he said, catching sight of her name tag, “I trust you. Trust me back, yeah? There’ll be a good tip in it for ya.”

She hesitated briefly, but ended up filling his cup to the brim once more. “Just...be careful, hon. If not for you, for me.”

He opened his mouth to reply to her, maybe even thank her for being over the top nice when him of all people didn’t deserve it, but a roar of laughter from the other end of the bar caught his attention. It was familiar, and it actually made him tense up. It was enough to feel like every inch of hair on his body was standing up straight. He carefully turned his head to see the small group of men who appeared to be in their 60′s or 70′s, all seemingly piss-drunk. He wouldn’t have thought much of it if it weren’t for the one in the middle, arms flailing about as he seemed to tell some story with dramatic flair. Must’ve been where he got it from.

“Fuck,” he sighed, getting to his feet and digging into his pocket to slide a hundred dollar bill towards Carla.

“Baby, you didn’t even finish your refill. This is too much.”

He licked his lips before grabbing the glass and finishing it off, giving her a small nod as he placed it back on his napkin.

“S’for being a decent person. God knows we could use more of those in the world,” he responded, his voice gravelly. He needed to get the fuck out of there. He was all prepared to, reaching down to button up his coat, the pound of his boots echoing as he walked to the entrance.

“Travis?”

The voice had him skip to a stop, and he felt as if he were just grabbed by a creature in a haunted house.

“Travis! My boy! Fellas, that’s my fuckin’ son right there! In a bar of all places. The fucking irony, eh? Really taking after his old man,” he heard his father’s chatter, his eyes squeezing shut as they all roared with laughter again. He couldn’t leave now, not without saying something. He hesitantly turned around, feeling Carla’s protective stare on him as he walked towards the oldies gang and stopped about a foot away from.

“Well son, don’t you think it’s rude to not stop to say hello? Especially to your father, of all people.”

“Not sure if the alcohol has blurred your eyesight, but I was just leaving, dad,” he replied, his tone curt. It definitely caused a stir from the other older guys, an awkward hush falling among the group.

“Big mouth you’ve got there, boy. You certainly didn’t get it from your mother, that’s for sure. Another gift from old pops, huh?” he prodded once again with a chorus of snickers from his goons.

“How about you keep mum’s name out of your mouth?” Travis replied. If there was sore subject, it was that. His mom practically raised him and his siblings on her own, and even though she’d moved on, it still wasn’t fair. “Besides, you never stuck it out long enough to really know her, did you?”

“You’ve got a lot of nerve,” his father drawled, eyes going from a unfocused blur to a narrow, faltering glare. Strangely enough, it was accompanied by a deep smirk, once that he wished he could just smack off of his face. He was sure the drinks were the cause of that. “You should be grateful I decided to stick it out with that bitch long enough for you to be alive. Count your lucky fucking stars.”

He didn’t want to let this rattle him, despite feeling the way his fists were starting to tremble at his sides. “Classy as ever, dad, but you’re not exactly hot shit yourself. She’s moved on, and you’re here in a random bar. If you think any of us should feel grateful towards you, then I guess it’s not just liver damage you’ve got going on. It’s starting to effect your brain, too.”

The comment promoted another loud round of laughter from his dad, although his friends didn’t have the same reaction. It was more awkwardness, unsure if they should be laughing along or leaving him be.

“Maybe you’re right, son, but from the looks of it, you’re following right behind me, huh? Almost exactly in my footsteps, and not surprisingly so. I’ve heard your brother’s already managed to fuck up his marriage, and you’re here looking like you just buried a dead body. Probably can’t keep a girl yourself, right?”

“Wrong. My girl, she...” Travis’s voice cut off when he suddenly remembered that, technically, Whitney wasn’t his girl. Not at the moment. His dad didn’t have to know that, though. He didn’t owe him any explanations. “She’s a country singer. A fucking fantastic one, and I care about her enough that you’ll never have the honor of ever getting to meet her in person. Not if I have any say.”

“Well that sounds like a nice, fake, fairytale girl you’ve made up there, son. Let me guess, that song, the ‘Travis’ one is by her and it’s about you, right?”

His silence and the look on his face was the only answer his dad needed, his moment of shock turning into an ugly, cruel cackle.

“It is! Well, fucking hell boy, I should’ve known. Robert can’t make it work, and you leave them high and dry enough to get a song written about you. You’re both your father’s sons. Not sure if I should be proud, I expected as much. Let’s hope your sister isn’t out there selling herself short or swinging around a pole and shoving money in her panties. I’d hate to see another waste of potential.”

In almost a second, Travis had lunged and had his dad’s shirt taken up in his fist. The others were quick to jump in, feeling a pair of arms attempting to tug him away from his dad.

“Hey! It’s fine, let him go,” his dad bellowed, and Travis felt himself being released from the hold that was on him. “You wanna punch me? Go right ahead, boy.” He got uncomfortably close to him, enough so that Travis took in the stench of whisky and cigarettes from his breath. “You better make it a fucking good one, too. You’re a lot of things, but hopefully not a pussy.”

Travis stared at him, heavily breathing before shaking his head.

“You’re not worth the time. You’re not worth shit.”

Despite deserving more, he settled for giving his dad a hefty shove. He didn’t relish in the way he stumbled backwards with a drunken grin. It was all just so stupid and sickening.

“Guess you’re a little bitch, too, huh? Isn’t that right, Travis? Go on, get the fuck out of here.”

He turned to walk away, to just block out the comments, leave everything in the dust and carry on. However, he was met by the presence of two police officers walking through the doors.

“Is there a Travis Simmons here?”

Fuck.

“I, uh, yeah...me. What’s the problem, officer?”

Instantly, he received the ‘you’re under arrest’ spiel and felt a pair of cuffs wrap around his wrists. It was actually pretty impressive how fast they swooped in. No, it wasn’t his first time having something like this happen, but it was the first time he’d actually felt the gut punch of shame. Not for what he did, but for who was observing it. He glanced to Carla, who was almost as horror struck as he was, then reluctantly over to his dad who raised a glass in his direction.

“My kin, ladies and gentleman. He’s getting more similar to me with every passing moment.”

Travis’s eyes squeezed shut, not wanting to watch as he tipped the drink back. He couldn’t help but think about how similar they looked doing it. If he was actually becoming anything like his dad, then that was just the biggest fuck you life could offer him. It was almost torturous when the song over the speakers changed and he recognized Whitney’s voice, singing about the shitty things he’d done. His dad’s chuckling in the background as it played was a punchline to the whole fucking joke. Maybe he deserved it. Maybe all of this was something he’d been asking for. Even so, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this low. He didn’t dare look back, eyes glued to the floor as he was lead to the cop car.

[ladyninjaa]

A Bloody Coward

Imagine: Being the Eldest Stark and being with Jon when Theon returns to Dragonstone.

Robb Stark…Gods, what can you say about your little brother? He was kind, just, and so fierce. He was meant to be the ruler of Winterfell and the North but he was gone now. He had been dead for some time—he had been betrayed by his supposed allies…watched the love of his life stabbed to death along with their unborn child.

You are grateful to whoever had killed off that damned Walder Frey.

You had traveled to Dragonstone with Jon and Ser Davos to ask Queen Daenerys for help. You admit that the Queen was…persistent about bending the knee but you knew your brother wouldn’t…for now.

You honestly would bend the knee to her.

She was different…You hoped she wouldn’t end up like her father but then again, who were you to judge a daughter by her father’s crimes?

You liked Daenerys. You found her very passionate and beautiful. You weren’t sure what your brother thought of her though. You didn’t bother to ask. You were outside on the sandy shores of Dragonstone collecting sea-shells. Your half-brother was conversing with Ser Davos and Missandei not too far away from where you were.

Jon didn’t want you wandering off too far without him. He didn’t quite trust Queen Daenerys whereas you did because you actually had balls. You had asked her previously if it was alright to collect the sea-shells and keep them—you didn’t want to steal from her even though it wasn’t your intention but you asked because you had hoped it would sooth some of the Queen’s stress.

Your sudden request had the Queen staring at you as if you were joking.

When she saw that you were serious, she graced you with a smile. She seemed to like you and had granted your request before her sudden departure. Now, here you were humming and collecting sea-shells thinking about how pretty they were. It was nice to be care-free even for a moment. It has been some time since you were able to like this…without much care for the world. Years of war and tragedies’ had made your petals rather harsh and cold but slowly; things were looking up…if you excluded the army of white walkers.

Despite being stuck on Dragonstone, you took it as an opportunity to gain more insight. Of course, you asked the Queen for permission to whatever library they had left. She was suspicious but granted you your request.

You like to think that Jon was a wee bit jealous of your little bond with Queen Daenerys.

It is rather quiet without the dragons flying about. You just happen to glance out towards the ocean and see a ship heading this way. It’s a Greyjoy ship? You furrow your eyebrows with confusion before turning towards where you can see Jon, Ser Davos, and Missandei glancing in the direction of the ship.

It isn’t long before a group joins you and there is a small row-boat heading towards shore. There is some tension but Missandei doesn’t look too bothered.

You stand next to Jon as the row-boat draws near. As they reach shore and bring the boat onto safe ground, you take note of the one in the front who looks so familiar. The men are shouting orders at each other and finally, they halt.

Theon Greyjoy.

There is silence between the two groups. It is clear that something is going on by the steps that Jon takes towards Theon—he’s conflicted between killing Theon and letting him live. Theon sees Jon and holds a strange expression on his face. You stand next to your brother tall and proud and stare at this traitor that you hold no love for anymore.

You had watched Theon grow into a young man. You had given him friendship and trust…talked your father into letting Theon have a chamber nearby Robb’s since they were best friends. You even convinced your mother to let Theon sit with the family during meals. Your family treated this shit like he was a Stark…and he paid you back by burning down your home, killing Ser Rodrick, and lying about killing Bran and Rickon.

You wished to blame Theon that it was his fault too that rats infested Winterfell and claimed it as their home. It was because of him that Ramsay raped and tortured not only you but your baby sister, Sansa.

When the war started, you had opted to stay in Winterfell to watch over the castle and the boys while your mother and Robb rode out to war. Like your mother always said….”There must always be a Stark in Winterfell.” You stood by your home, always.

You made sure your brothers escaped when Theon invaded…you had made sure that Sansa escaped while Ramsay was out being a twat.

Now, here this man stood.

You hated him…you felt some pity over what Ramsay had turned him into but that was the price of Theon’s mistake for betraying the Starks. Theon looked over at you and he seems to shrink back—a typical Reek response.

Reek…or in this case Theon clears his throat, “Jon.”

There is a pause and all that is heard is the waves crashing onto the shores and the sea birds singing their song. You stare at the men behind Theon who look very tense and ready to fight. “Y/N,” He acknowledges you in an almost apologetic way…He had to witness the brutality that Ramsay inflicted on you and Sansa. “I didn’t know you were here.”

Jon remains stone cold.

You simply stare at this man. He looks much older then what his real age was. Ramsay wasn’t kind him and whatever tribulation he had gone through since helping Sansa rescue seemed to age him more.

Theon knows what will come. He takes a few brave steps towards you and Jon. He knows the fury of a Stark and yet braves it because he knows he deserves it. “S-Sansa,” He says when he’s closer to the both of you, “Is she alright?”

Jon grabs Theon and pulls him in real close—fury brewing in his usually brooding eyes. Theon doesn’t resist and doesn’t fight back. Jon is glaring at him, “What you did for her…” He growls, “Is the only reason that I’m not killing you.”

Theon looks down in shame but doesn’t remark.

Jon lets him go and steps away from Theon—still furious. You simply stare at Theon without much care for him. “We heard your uncle attacked your fleet.” Ser Davos breaks the tension. “We thought you were dead.”

“It seems that Greyjoy’s are hard to kill,” You remark bitterly as Theon flinches, “Despite being bloody cowards.”

Theon swallows thickly, “I should be,” He says to you.

“I can only imagine why you’re alive. You probably jump ship the moment Euron attacked the ship.” You say with ice in your words.

“Your sister?” Ser Davos questions.

Theon steels himself, “Euron has her. I came to ask the Queen to help me get her back.” He says though his men look skeptical.

“The Queen is gone.” You remark before turning around. You were tired of seeing this cowardly traitor.

“Y/N,” Theon called your name, “I’m…I’m sorry.” He seems desperate to make amends with you. What he did will haunt him forever because he paid a hefty price for it. He betrayed his own best friend…bragged about kill Bran and Rickon in your face…took your home. You and Robb had always been there for him…you always made him feel like family.

You whipped around with fury that rivaled a dragon. Jon immediately stepped to the side as you lunged towards Theon and punched him in the face, “Sorry?” You roared angrily, “Sorry? That’s all you have to say for what you did to our family and our home?” Theon lays on the ground with his nose bloody.

You hear the Dothraki laughing.

“We treated you like fucking family! Your father didn’t give two shits about you until he saw a chance to use you to get Winterfell! You killed Ser Rodrick! You bragged about killing my brothers in my face! You watched that monster rape me and my sister!” You snarled as your body trembled. “And you’re the one who is sorry?” You laughed bitterly.

“I’m sorry, Y/N! P-Please!” Theon cried…no Reek cried. Theon was gone because this was Reek now.

You growled in agitation wanting to hate this fool and it pissed you off that you felt sorry for this fucker despite everything he had done. “Your shitty apologize doesn’t begin to cover the lasting effects that your betrayal left, Theon. What you did for Sansa…doesn’t make up for a fraction of what you caused.” You say with a tremble to your voice as you began to walk away.

Jon is right behind you as you storm away.

Before you could reach the long, narrow paths to head back to the castle, Jon grabbed you and hugged you. You sobbed into his shoulder feeling so torn. “I know,” Jon cooed into your ear, “I know just how you feel.”

“I want to hate him, Jon!” You say through tears and snot.

“So do I…but what Ramsay did to him…was more then enough.” Jon mumbles rubbing your back.

You simply try to enjoy the warmth and comfort that Jon gives you.

[oldmythos]

May I prompt a shance roommate au where they're in college together? They're both freshmen that are a little older than the others cause they started late, Lance because he was working to support his family, Shiro because he was in the military. Maybe Lance catches Shiro having a nightmare or something? Sorry this is so long, I love your writing!

Prompt fill for my Follower Celebration!

Okay so @crazy-indigo-child is a freaking BADASS BETA WHO MADE THIS 8000x BETTER @paladin-pile gee, I wonder who prompted this.

Lance knew that he didn’t have to be awake at two in the morning, knew that the article he was currently trying to get through wasn’t technically required reading, but his brain kept telling him he needed to finish it. He needed to be able to understand this garbage about the phylogenetic relationships between human and animal viruses and their role in evolution because if he didn’t understand it, what was he even doing here?

He started the paper over again. He could at least get the abstract under his belt before going to sleep. That was the least he could do.

The apartment was quiet as he started the first sentence once again.

The study of molecular genetics has produced a considerable body of research into the sequences and phylogenetic relationships of…

He sighed, feeling the concentration and understanding slip from his mind once more. He took a deep breath.

This time he got a paragraph in before he lost it. It was too late, and he logically knew that there would be absolutely no ramifications if he didn’t finish it. It wasn’t even extra credit, it was just related to their current studies. He just— he needed to get through it. He needed to prove to himself that he could get through it.

He rubbed his eyes and stood up, walking to the shitty, tiny, dirty kitchen.

Coffee.

Coffee always helped.

He yawned as he filled the kettle and placed it back on the stove and filled the french press with coffee. Hunk had insisted that french press coffee was easier, cheaper, and better, and Lance didn’t care enough to argue. He leaned on the counter while he waited for the water to boil.

He wished he could just blast dance music like he had at home whenever he was tired, but college was different. Neighbours were closer, here, and roommates were sleeping. God only knew his roommate didn’t sleep enough, what with all the five AM showers and running and late nights studying along with Lance. The earbuds currently blasting Shakira into his brain gave nothing but a tinny, weak replication of the feeling that could only be provided by a nice speaker injecting the bass right into his chest.

He looked around the kitchen. There were no dishes in the sink, all neatly put away, but neither of them really had any time to deep clean. He wrinkled his nose at the crumbs stuck in the grout and rings in the sink.

Before he could do anything, the kettle set out its light whistle. He pulled it off the stove before the sound could get any louder.

He loved this part, and Lance pulled out his earbuds for it. He loved watching the coffee swirl up as he poured the boiling water over it, the little sounds of bubbles forming and popping up at the surface.

Only four minutes until coffee. Sweet.

He grabbed a brush and started on the grout, phone and earbuds forgotten on the counter.

If he had popped them back in, he wouldn’t have heard it, but as soon as the soft whimpers hit his ears, his head perked up.

His brows furrowed in confusion. They were on the fourth floor, it couldn’t be a stray dog outside. Maybe a neighbour? His roommate?

Oh.

Lance knew that his roommate had gone through some shit. You couldn’t look at him and not know that. He held his prosthetic in his pocket at all times, and just walking down the street, you wouldn’t even notice that his right arm was just a bad imitation of the real deal, but there was no getting away from the massive scar running horizontally across his entire face or the white hair.

They’d only been living together for a few weeks and Shiro had been nothing but pleasant. He cleaned up after himself, paid the rent on time, was good to watch TV with. He just wasn’t very talkative, and that was okay with Lance, he did enough talking on his own. He had told Shiro about every single one of his siblings, about the years taking care of them while his mom was recovering, about every funny and annoying little thing they did.

Shiro never talked about the military. Ever.

The whimpering got louder and Lance thought he was starting to hear words.

He put the brush in the sink and wiped his hands on the dish towel. His little brothers and sisters had nightmares sometimes and he knew how to deal with it for them. One brother like to be pulled directly into a hug, one liked to be sung awake, one liked their hair stroked.

Shiro was different. Shiro was a grown-ass man who had seen more than Lance hoped any of his siblings ever would. Shiro was built like a brick shit-house and Lance had no doubt that in his prime, Shiro could kick just about anyone’s ass without a second house. It didn’t matter that the man was a pure teddy bear; if Shiro was waking up from a violent dream, there was a chance he could get violent. Lance knew this and was willing to take the risk of his own safety, but he already knew that the mild-mannered man would never be able to forgive himself if he hurt anyone.

Lance stood outside the door, listening to the voice get louder, words still indecipherable through the wood, but the mumbling and whimpering turning into shouts.

Lance cracked the door open to Shiro, still in his long pajama pants and long sleeved shirt, tied right where his arm left off. He was sweating and tangled up in the sheets, trying to thrash them off.

“No,” he murmured, “jus’ lemme go, please.”

When Shiro’s voice turned into a broken shout on that last word, Lance’s heart fell.

Singing. He could sing. His sister liked it.

“I messed up tonight, I lost another fight,” it didn’t matter what he sang, it never did, it just needed to be soft. He could make Shakira soft.

“I still mess up but I’ll just start again, I keep falling down, I keep on hitting the ground,”

Shiro seemed to still be listening to his dream, faces pulled tight, jaw straining and left fist clenched as he pulled at the sheets.

Lance kept singing, kneeling at Shiro’s side, the man’s room impeccably clean, the carpet soft on his knees. He liked to think that the singing was helping, that the shouting was getting quieter and the strain was lessening, but if that was true, it was barely perceptible.

He moved on to the next sibling’s favorite nightmare technique, singing the whole time. He was hesitant, hand hovering over Shiro’s hair. He didn’t think you were supposed to touch people in violent nightmares, right? He didn’t even know Shiro that well, maybe he should just go.

Shiro let out another pained whine and Lance swallowed his doubt, threading his fingers back through Shiro’s fringe.

The response to this one was immediate. His entire body stilled, and not necessarily in a good way. his entire body froze, muscles tight. His breathing didn’t even out but the sounds stopped. Lance’s hand paused for a moment, but hey, this was better, so he kept going.

“I won’t give up, no I won’t give in, ‘till I reach the end, and then I’ll start again,”

Shiro’s eyes slowly opened, staring straight at the ceiling, and it was only at that moment that the tears escaped from his eyes. He let out a shuddering breath, forced even breaths through his mouth.

Lance sang and stroked his hair as Shiro obviously tried to pull himself together. He could see the moment that Shiro really realized what was happening by his sudden push to an upright position, Shiro catching Lance’s gaze and pulling his knees up to his chest, backing into the headboard.

“‘m so sorry, Lance, did I wake you up? I didn’t—” he wiped the tears from his eyes, “I didn’t mean to wake you, I promise it won’t happen ag—”

Shiro was cut off, suddenly held, his face shoved into Lance’s shirt. It was immediately dampened by tears and Shiro pretended to push away for a moment before melting into the hug.

“Thank you,” he mumbled into Lance’s shirt.

Lance nodded. “Want to talk about it?”

Shiro shook his head violently into Lance’s chest. Lance just held him tighter.

“I made coffee, want some?”

Shiro nodded and pulled away.

“I’m really sorry, I try to not let it be a problem, but…” he drifted off.

Lance grabbed Shiro’s hand and tried to catch his gaze, averted to the blankets. “Don’t be sorry. I don’t know what happened, but it doesn’t matter. You’re allowed to hurt.”

Shiro nodded again and scrubbed his hands down his face. “That’s what everyone keeps saying.”

“They’re right.”

Shiro swung his legs out of the bed and felt the carpet between his toes. Lance pulled him up and on the way to the kitchen, he left their fingers interlaced.

I love these AUs so much, make sure you keep an eye out for my next milestone celebration, it may have to do with all of these. 👀

[lady-fiona-rossi]

Practice Challenge Two:  Fiona you’re fucked as hell.

AN: I know this has already been posted once. However, the ending has changed due to the sleepover being the first night.

Girls will be girls. It’s the phrase that is rarely heard. Instead, it’s opposite, boys will be boys takes its popularity. At the flower farm, the tendency is untrue. Girls will be girls is more commonly said. The defense for why one girl will cut off another’s hair while they sleep, the defense for why they rise and fall in an over dramatic flare. It’s just what girls do. Humans act like they are so much higher than animals, really we are just like them. We are savages who fight in wars for popularity, thinking the eyes of others mean you have some kind of power. This contest will probably be filled with girls like these. Hot movie stars who will act however they want because they were raised to believe they are always on the right side, or always a victim, intense athletes looking to gain approval from their parents who never could just be proud of them, girls just looking for friends who will be torn apart limb by limb, the attack done by said girls. A battle. The excuse for this horrific and animalistic attack, the phrase girls will be girls. However, I was not raised to accept this battle. Rather I’d like everyone to be warm, regardless of how unrealistic my aspirations are. Thus gifts seemed like a reasonable peace offering. Gifts of what? It stumped me for awhile, but then I realized my surroundings and decided on flower crowns. Though, this is a battle to become Queen, they are all Queen in their own right. Every woman is perfect in her own way. Despite the views of Dom, I want to remind them that they are their own Queen. Each of them just as wonderful, strong, and beautiful as a Queen.

I worked first on sending the letters, mailing each of them to the girls with basically the same phrase, I didn’t want to show favoritism. Then I collected the flowers, the warden allowing me to do so, and made each flower crown. With a soft hum, I finished up the last crown as the time to leave arrived. I didn’t have any clothes to bring so all I had to pack were these crowns. Oh and a book for Prince Evan, and some cookies for Prince Percy and some of the girls. On me, I wore my necklace. My only memory of my mother, I had forgotten her face by now, I knew it in my mind. I would try harder to remember her but the memories only caused me too much pain to think. All I needed to see my sister, however, was to look in the mirror.

The black pants I wore clung to me like the tragedy that reminded me of the ways I was betraying her just by going. It had slipped my mind till recently. The ways we would curse the Royals. Wish them death for the pain they gave us. Now I was going to cozy up to him.  I wonder what my mother would think of me? She might be fine with it, knowing why I’m going, Stella on the other hand…she was much more against them. It’s not their fault. It’s their relatives. I can help, I can help them see the darkness they’re keeping themselves blind to. I miss her though, I miss the warmth of her holding me in her arms, comforting me as I grew up far too fast, trying to hold me down and keep me in my youth without restraining me. I sang a soft song as I began to pack the flowers up, the suitcase I had asked for being cold with ice packs to keep the flowers fresh. A song that my mother used to sing to me when I had a nightmare played in my head while I packed.

“When you gonna make up your mind

When you gonna love you as much as I do

When you gonna make up your mind

Cause things are gonna change so fast

All the white horses are still in bed

I tell you that I’ll always want you near

You say that things change my dear

Boys get discovered as winter melts

Flowers competing for the sun

Years go by and I’m here still waiting Withering where some snowman was

Mirror mirror where’s the crystal palace

But I only can see myself

Skating around the truth who I am

But I kn-”

“Lady Fiona it’s time to go to the send-off.” An older man said as he leaned against the doorway looking down at his watch, interrupting me from my song, luckily I was all packed by now.  

“Thank you for telling me, but who might you be?” I asked as I had never seen this man before, he was a little creepy. Not too much though, he didn’t have a very good nose. It was far too large, and his eyes were oddly distanced. They were a nice shade of blue, however.   

“I work as a royal chauffeur. I’ll be driving you to the airport in Paloma.” He grumbled.

“I see. Thank you very much, sir.” I replied before picking up my suitcase and rolling it with me to the car out in front of the building. I turned back for one moment looking at my childhood. This is where I became who I am today, but it is somewhere I will never go back to, no matter how much it calls to me.

The people of Panama are primarily poor sevens, eights, and a few fours. It’s a province which serves as a large agriculture hub. As we drive I see it. My home, I had never known how far away I had run when they attacked. I was only about fifteen minutes from them. What if they were there? Always waiting for me? What if I had just driven past them? No, I needed to stop thinking like this. They are gone, I am me, I am not them. I am doing this for myself.

“Did they prep you for the send-off?” The man asked, his voice sounding a little concerned.

“Uh, kind of? They said I would have to say like one or two things before heading off to the airport.” I answered the male sighed in response.

“The people, they’re not too happy about the selection they may seem a bit rude. If it ever becomes too much for you, just leave through the back. That’s where I will be.” He explained. It made sense. Why would they be happy about the royal family, the family leaving them in such a shitty condition, throwing a game show about their son finding the proper fuck buddy? Yes flirting with men like him and his cousin Prince Percy would be fun, but I can also understand the people’s frustration at this.

Upon arriving at the stage I saw what the driver had meant. The people, covered in dirt, grime, the sweat from the sevens work in the heat, dirt or sewer water from the work, the sixes seeming much cleaner, but their clothes covered in tears, the eights hiding in the alleyways, some families of eights watching in horror, fearful that the crowd would become too wild and become a stampede. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

Then I stepped out of the car, making my way slowly to the stage, making direct eye contact with everyone I could. I wouldn’t let them forget me and what I was about to promise them. Once I got to the stage I stood straight as I could and let out a sigh.

“People of Panama. I understand your frustration. I am one of you, no matter how I am dressed up. I’ve lived on the streets that you live on, I’ve dug out of the same trash you have. I have seen the same shame in the eyes of those who pass us by that you do. The way they ignore us..like we’re nothing. I can’t promise you I will fix us, I don’t even know how much I will matter in this frivolous game, but I can swear to you, as long as I live I will be pushing for us to be treated as equals. We do not deserve the mistreatment we get solely dependent on the numeric ranking of our relatives.” I spoke, my words stern and precise as I listened for the response. However, the silence was the only thing left after I spoke. I took a deep breath in and out, then gave a small curtsey and turned to the back of the stage. As I walked back I began to hear the applause. I kept on my path and got back in the car.

“It was nice of you to try and help. You know though, you won’t have much influence just as a selected.” He said. I gave a soft sign.

“You’re probably right, but I still can try. I can’t stand to see their faces looking so sad.” I replied and leaned against the window drifting off into sleep.   We had to stop in a different province for the night.

The drive was too long and the driver needed a break. So we went to a small hotel and got set up there for the night. The bed was low to the ground and rather soft when I laid on it like I was laying on a marshmallow. I had never slept on something so soft before. The curtains were made out of a thick fabric, they were a pale blue the color of a summer sky, one without a single cloud threatening to drown the citizens, along with the blue small sunflowers were embroidered onto it, like small drops of sunlight coexisting with the summer sky.

“Do you like sunflowers?” The male driver asked. He was staying in another room so I was a little startled to hear his voice suddenly behind me.

“Yes, I suppose. My mother loved them. She would tell me to be bright and sunny just like them.” I answered softly as I held the fabric running my fingers over the stitches making the sunflowers.

“Your mother sounds sweet, and from what I’ve seen of you, you seem to be listening to her.” He complimented. I turned to face him letting the curtains drop.

“Is there something you need?” I asked looking up at him with my eyebrows furrowed.

“No, I wa-”

“Actually what’s your name? I’m tired of not being able to properly address you.” I interrupted.

“It’s Nathaniel Volts, and I was just curious to what one of the selected was like.” He answered and finished.

“Well, now you know,” I replied and leaned against the window. There was a small lake near the hotel, I kind of wanted to go explore it but I doubt I’d be allowed.

“Sooo, Lady ginger. Why’d you enter this thing anyways? You don’t exactly seem too power crazy, or like you’re looking for a playmate. So why?” He asked. I crossed my arms not wanting to get to into it.

“You saw where I lived, I wanted to leave that place. Plus the food is probably awesome, and the prince doesn’t seem like he’d be a bore.” I replied. Nathaniel opened his mouth ready to speak, but once more I cut him off.

“Can you like, go? I’m feeling a bit tired and I’d like some sleep.” I requested though phrasing it as more of a demand, avoiding eye contact with him.

“Right, I’ll go. Sleep well.” He replied stiffly, gave me a pat on the shoulder and then left.

I laid down on my bed and closed my eyes. Quickly one of those dreams began. One of those dreams that cage me, dump ice water on me, then boil me alive like a lobster.

“Stella stop please,” I begged to my sister who was standing on top of a small cardboard box.

“Mamma’s gonna be mad at us, get down.” I pleaded as I tugged at her sleeve. Mamma was out scavenging. There was a parade going on, to celebrate the birth of Princess Callie. They happened to be going through our part of town and Stella was very insistent on having her opinion heard, and I was very insistent on us not getting beheaded.

“How dare these fiends force us to live like we do, while they parade around celebrating the life of another one of them, who will live just as they do in comfort!” She yelled. I felt tears begin to fill my eyes as she was starting to get the attention she wanted. Suddenly a man walked over to us.

“Oh look a little street rat? Just because your mother was a whore doesn’t mean we have to listen to your gibberish.” He grumbled and pushed her down off of her box and onto me. She toppled on me crushing me against the ground. How dare he hurt my sister.

“Maybe you’re a whore!” I yelled, not knowing the meaning of the word at the time but wishing to use his words against him. He gripped my ankle and pulled me out from underneath me sister.

“Oh look the brat’s got a clone.” He spoke as he lifted me up by my leg.

“Let go of me, you stupid person!” I yelled throwing my arms around anywhere I could and kicking my free one. The man tightened his grip on me as I felt my leg break.

Suddenly I was in the woods. It was the last day. The world was spinning as everything became gray. The face of my mother as I listened to her last words while holding my sister’s hand.

“It’ll be okay. I’ll protect you girls. Now can you promise me something?” She asked as we nodded.

“Promise me that you will both always protect each other and that you will always have kindness, courage, and love.” She said before kissing us both on the said.

“I promise mamma.” We said in unison. Me through muffled tears. Stella was always so much stronger than me. Then she pressed a ring into my hand.

“You will be fine, Fiona. Stella and I will protect you.” She added giving me the hug I needed. Then she ran. Then I was running. A loud noise, like a firework. A gun, and my mother’s pained scream.

“Stella you need to hide. Wait for them to pass by, then run away from us. You won’t make it if you keep slowing down for me.” I spoke to her sternly. My leg still had not healed from the past year, without proper medical attention. She hid inside a bush. The last thing I remember were her eyes. What’s next what’s next. What else can this dream hit me with?

Nothing. I sit up fast, not hitting my head this time. I’m drenched in sweat and my hands shake. I stand up and walk to the bathroom, happy to feel the cold tiles on my feet.

“You betrayed me.” I hear Stella say, looking back at me in the bathroom mirror.

“I’m dead because of you, you were supposed to protect me!” She yelled as her hands stretched from inside of the mirror gripping my throat and strangling me.

My eyes open, finally actually awake. I pant and throw the thick blanket off of me, sweat covered every inch of my body. I got up and walked to the bathroom, turned on the light and looked in the mirror. I slowly raised my hands to rest on my cheeks.

“I’m me. She is not me.” I said to myself slowly before taking a deep breath in and out. It was only two am. I couldn’t go back to sleep though. Not when she was waiting to claw her way back to life through me. I snuck out creeping down the hallway and to the outside.

The grass was damp. It must have been raining when I slept. Through the darkness, I made my way to the small lake I had seen from my window. I sat down on the wet grass and watched the resting water. There were no thoughts here, nothing plagued my mind causing the constant screaming in my head to continue, no sisters to save, no one to fail, nothing to do but rest with the water. Then the rain came. I laid down on the grass and let it drench me.

Each drop of rain beating down on my body, washing me of the past that plagued me. Cleaning off each desire that harassed me. The desire to free Stella from whatever fictional hell I had fabricated for her, the desire to impress all I meet, the desire for everyone to love me. The desire to keep up this gilded facade. I had no desire, but the desire to be me. I was clean. I was ready.

My life is mine, and I am going to take it back.

   After an hour or so of sitting in the rain, I decided to retire back to my room, then got in the shower. I would need an excuse for my drenched body and hair. Once I was out of the shower I set my nightgown down and used a hair blow dryer I had to dry the nightgown, for the time being, I felt fine wearing only my underclothes. I laid down on the bed and felt the blanket on each part of my skin. I wasn’t often like this as there were so many others who slept in the same room as me. But for now, I felt comfortable, I felt myself.

   Once morning came we quickly began our journey I would have to wear my clothes from yesterday as people still may see me and we were supposed to be in the formal wear of the selected until we arrived. I clipped the small flower into my hair, braiding two strands and tying them back like a tiara. I believed the flower was a lily of the valley. They were small flowers that looked almost like bells, they looked delicate and weak. Though someone who knew a lot about flowers can tell you, lily of the valleys are some of the most poisonous flowers if consumed. Normally it takes a lot of a flower to make one ill, not with these small things.

I was the last to arrive at the airport. The first thing I did was walk up to Madalena and give her a hug. We had been writing back and forth during the time after being selected. She seemed like a sweet daredevil. Then I gave each of the girls a hug with the exception of Margarita who settled for a handshake. Calista was very sweet. She joked saying she couldn’t tell if it was a friendly golden retriever who had hugged her or me. She’s blind but has very good hearing. She could hear the plane before it even was in sight. Maria was like me, never had ridden a plane before and was a little scared to. We held hands and made it together.

Upon arriving at the palace I was sat down in a large room to begin what they called a makeover. First, they took a before picture of me, I was wearing a dull colored dress. It seemed a little fake. Of course, I’d look better in a dress that wasn’t so boring. I sat down on a small chair that leaned back like a bad as they began. They put a hot liquid all over me and then ripped it off with small pieces of papers, used weird things I had never seen on my nails, then cleaned my hair.

“Do you think you could cut my hair?” I asked. I had still been meaning too after my first attempt but hadn’t gotten around to it with all of the talking, packing, and flower crown making.

They lady gave a small sigh. “Are you sure about that?” She asked. Why? Would it look bad if I cut it? I had never thought it looked bad short. Does Prince Dom not like short hair? Wait, why do I care what Prince Dom thinks? Maybe I should cut it. Yeah. I opened my mouth about to speak but found myself getting cut off.

“We’ll just trim it a bit and layer it. If you end up wanting that drastic cut, just ask one of your maids later.” She answered and sat me up to begin cutting the hair with a weird kind of scissor that would apparently layer it. Maids? I would have maids? I knew Rebecca had one made named Melissa, we all called her Mel though and were friends. It seemed weird for me to have maids. I would have to make them something.

Once I was finished I spoke to a girl named Debbie, I needed to hand out some of the flower crowns while I could, so I gave her hers, then we got caught up in conversation. Quickly she became a close friend. Next, I would need to find Madelyn, we had been writing back and forth for awhile so I was thrilled to finally meet her. She was talking with a girl named Emmalyn. Berklee and a girl named Charlotte were also talking. Though as our conversation began Charlotte seemed a little wary at everyone coming into the conversation. Berklee had a chicken nugget crown, she had specifically asked for chicken nuggets so her’s was in a different bag meant to keep the nuggets warm.  

After the makeovers, we met some lady who would be training us on how to becoming proper ladies. She quickly went over things like table manners, the different types of dresses per each time of the day, and a thousand other things. It made me feel dizzy and sick to think of so many new rules.

Once she freed us from her sickening speech about etiquette, I found myself wandering off to the gardens. It was already fairly dark. The sun normally didn’t set so early in Panama. I walked outside and took a deep breath welcoming in the fresh outside air. Then I began my slow walk, after walking for a bit I bumped into Princess Alina. Rumor had it she liked flowers so it didn’t surprise me too much to see her. We had a rough conversation. I apparently was much more offensive to her than I had intended to be. Something must be wrong with me. Maybe I needed more sleep.

Afterward, I stopped by my room thankful that my maids seemed to have given up on waiting for me to come. I opened my suitcase of gifts. I had already passed out a few of them once I had finished my makeover. But now I would hunt down Prince Evan, and Prince Percy. I’d have to give Princess Alina her gift later.

First I spotted Prince Percy and made my way over to him.

“Hi, Prince Percy! I’m Fiona Rossi one of the selected. I wanted to make gifts for everyone for when I got here, and most of them include flowers but I was really very stumped on what to get for you, considering that my knowledge of you is very slim and I wasn’t sure if you’d like flowers, and Prince Evan has a very clear statement of liking books. So, I decided you can’t go wrong with cookies. Unless of course, you’re allergic to cookies, in which case I will hunt for something else to properly give you as a gift.” I said and held out a box of cookies to him.

“I’m not allergic, and who doesn’t love cookies? Thanks, gorgeous.” He replied. Ooh a flirt. This could be fun.

“Sadly I can think of a few sad girls who don’t. And thanks, you don’t seem to be too bad on the eyes yourself.” I replied with a sly smirk enjoying this conversation already.

“Well, obviously. I am a Schreave, after all.” He replied. Yes obviously.

“Mmmm I wouldn’t say I find all in your family are attractive, some seem a little poorly unshaven,” I spoke thinking back to a very unfortunate picture I had seen of one of them.

“Hah! And who would that be, I wonder?” He asked.

“Not sure I can trust you enough to say. Wouldn’t want someone hating me already.” I replied and looked back up at him making eye contact.

“Hey, if it’s making fun of someone in my family, I am all here for it. Your secret is safe with me.” He assured. I pursed my lips thinking for a minute over if I should spill it or not. Why not.

“Well, Prince Evan is clearly not the most attractive in the family. Maybe he would be a little better if he fixed his facial hair though. Since after all it’s not like I memorized the flaws and benefits of all of your faces before coming.” I explained, adding in the part about memorizing faces as a small joke.

Then Prince Percy began to laugh hysterically. I started to chuckle a bit too, proud I had succeeded in my comment.“Oh, wow. This is priceless. I agree. Evan is a troll. And of course you didn’t memorize our faces, but… if you had… what would you say are the positives about me?” He asked. Oh, so he wanted his ego to be even more inflated. Yeah, I’m gonna at the very least make out with him before I go. He was pretty perfect. Hot, funny, and a flirt. What more could a girl ask for? He then made a ‘smolder face’ waiting for a compliment from me. I leaned forward pressing two of my fingers against his lips.

“Hmmm well, I can’t properly judge when you’re making such a silly face. However-” I paused to move my fingers to give his nose a light pinch. “-your nose is greatly proportioned.” I complimented trying to think of something weird to compliment him with, wouldn’t want to tell him what he wanted to hear so soon. Probably something about his sexy eyes.

“My nose is proportional? That’s all you like?” He asked. Ah, such a wounded animal.

“Well, if I was held at gunpoint and forced to say something else it’d be your eyes, nice color, not too small,” I added trying to keep him hooked.

“Mmhmm. I see how it is.” He replied. Aw, did I go too far?

“Well, maybe I’ll say more if you say some good things about me in return.” I offered up, then very overdramatically batted my eyelashes. Oh how I loved equivalent exchange.

“I’ll wait,” I added.

“You’ve got nice hair.” He replied, such a boring compliment.

“Hmm if that’s the only compliment you can think of, I’ll be so disappointed. I hear it from too many people to enjoy it. To be fair my next complement will be that you’ve got nice hair.” I said before taking a step closer to him and running one hand through it.

“It’s a good color and very thick,” I added. That was when it all went downhill. Percy leaned away from me before saying,

“Hey, don’t touch the hair.” Aw, he was defensive over his mane.

“Why not? Spend hours on it in the morning?” I teased.

“This hair is insured for millions of dollars. Magazines everywhere are willing to kill for a chance to get this hair on the cover of their magazines. I do model, you know.” Goodness, he’s such a guy.

“No, I didn’t know that. I doubt you remember the caste of every girl but I’m the seven. I don’t get magazines often.” I joked.

“Well, I do. Model, I mean. And no one touches my hair. So… a Seven you say…” He said suddenly seeming awkward and closed off

“Yeah…do you have a problem with that?” I asked my eyebrows furrowed. Oh great. Not even in one day and I’m already being treated differently because of my caste. Everything was going fine until he heard that stupid number.

“Hmm… I don’t know yet. I’ve never met anyone in a lower caste than Three.” A three? That’s so high. There are plenty of girls here who are fives and sixes. Is he just going to ignore them?

“Well, there are plenty of people in lower castes here. And you shouldn’t have a problem with it considering regardless of whatever number we’re assigned for a particular job doesn’t change the fact that we’re just people the same as you.” I replied not being too aggressive but simply stating my beliefs as fact.

“I know you’re all people. We just may be very different people.” He said. Well, we weren’t very different people not even a minute ago. Suddenly we’re very different people just for saying a number?

“If that’s a concern of yours then fine, but don’t judge me until you know me. It’s getting rather late so I think I’m going to be off to my bedroom now. Have a good night Prince Playboy.” I excused myself, not wishing to be insulted anymore.

“See you later, Ginger…maybe.” 

Now in a slightly upset mood, I went to see Prince Evan. I kept the meeting short and to the point. I got a small book for Prince Evan. I had read somewhere that he liked to read. So I got him a book about the history of flowers in war. As the types of flowers and colors, all had meanings and played a big part in wars. I was hoping we could talk about it, but I found myself too annoyed to keep the conversation going for long. Thus I got a book recommendation to read something by Jane Austen, and left heading for the library. As I made my way down to the library I looked at the wall, the paper on it was so detailed. When there was a door or a bedroom I would also look at everything I could in the time it took me to go down the hall, and on my way down I saw the most infatuating person.

Prince Dom Schreave. I knew we weren’t supposed to speak with him yet so I took in all I could see of him with a giddy smile as I made my way past his room.

Thank God, he’s hot.

At the library, I was in awe at all of the books. I didn’t even know one could have so many books. As I hunted for the Jane Austen books I found myself drawn to a book about social etiquette. I should probably work harder to understand how to act and such. Threes probably need good etiquette too, so regardless of how this ends up I’ll need to know it. I picked up three books, one on etiquette in general social interactions, and one on social etiquette in eating. How could one write a whole book on the rules of eating?

On my way back to my room for the night I bumped into Madelyn. She had made me a poem, it was inspired off of a picture of my favorite flower, peonies, then about friendship, it was actually very lovely. I had some cookies to give her as well and suggested we hang out for a bit in one of our rooms and maybe watch a movie. Maddie then told me there was a sleepover going on with most of the selected and we should probably go.

I do not get drunk often. Primarily because the few times Rebecca has snuck me to a club, or given me alcohol she says I become a very different person. She found this very funny. I, on the other hand, found this very embarrassing. But with all of the stress piling up I decided to chug as much alcohol that I could get my hands on. This resulted in a very drunk me wandering about the palace late at night, which one could see, is not a good result. I found myself wandering off to Princess Alina’s room. Someone had dared Emmalyn to flirt with Princess Alina. However, Emmalyn used everyone’s pick up line but mine.

“Hey hottie, do you like watering flowers, because you’re as pretty as as flower and I’ll make you wet?” I slurred as I leaned against the doorway.

“I told emmalyn to use that one but she said it was too much. It’s too good to go to waste.” I sighed as  I turned to face the hottest woman in the palace.

“It’s decent. I’ve definitely heard better.” Alina replied. No freaking way.

“Really. Tell me them then or I don’t believe it. Also, here have some whiskey it’ll make everything so much better in life.” I challenge and motioned for her to take the bottle.

“I’m good. I’m not a whiskey fan. But here’s one: My watch says you’re not wearing underwear. Oh wait! It’s an hour fast.” Alina replied certainly proving me wrong as I began to cackle.

“Ooh that one’s fun! I admit defeat. My pickup line was personalized to you though.” I replied and took a chug of alcohol.  

“your cousin came to the sleepover and basically had sex with Charlotte. I couldn’t take watching that and I had pickup lines to avenge so I thought I’d stop by you, princess cutie.” I added then gave her a quick wink.

“That’s a new one.” Alina said seeming slightly surprised at the nickname.

“A new what?” I asked wondering what I had said.

“Nickname. No one’s ever called me Princess Cutie.”

“Aw well, they really should have. You’re a princess-” I paused and walked over to her sitting next to her on her bed, then lightly tapped her nose. “ “-and you are very much a cutie” I finished.

“You’re a little drunk, Lady Fiona,” Alina stated as I chuckled, my face close to hers as I had bopped her nose. God, she’s so hot. How is she not like already married or at least dating?

“A little is an understatement. You should have seen Annette though. She could hardly stand. Prince playboy dared Charlotte to kiss her and she fainted. Though even if I wasn’t drunk I’d still say you’re Princess cutie. The cutest most badass princess of them all.” I said and stretched my arms out to quantify how much of a cutie badass princess she was, but then fell back on her bed now laying on it with my legs dangling off the side and my tiptoes on the floor.

“Compared to who? Callie?” Alina asked. Of course not. Well, Callie included. But not just Callie.

“Compared to every princess on the history of ever!” I exclaimed.

“That’s quite a few princesses.”

“Yup but you’re still the best of all of them, Princess cutie!” I cheered before throwing myself onto Alina giving her a hug.  

Alina laughed as she pat me on my back. “Well, thank you, Lady Fiona.”

“Aw your laugh is even so cute. Honestly, they should say fuck all and hold a selection for you. You deserve the most perfect love of your life and deserve the optimal chance to find them. I’m sure everyone would swoon at the thought of signing up for you.” I suggested as I looked up at her.

“I’m perfectly fine without a Selection.” How else is she going to find her perfect love then?

“Ah right you find Sera sexy. I wish you luck with her. She threatened to kill all of us in the sleepover because we were annoying her with our conversation. Though I can see what you mean about her appearance. Like woah. Hot.” I’m not gay though, just can respect a hot girl.

Alina raised her eyebrows before clarifying, “I’m not looking for anything from this. I find plenty of you sexy but I still would never want a Selection.”

“Why not? Wouldn’t most people scream of joy at having 35 hot people of their preferred gender coming to their home and trying to date them?” I asked.

“It’s demeaning and sexist and incredibly constricting,” Alina said. I pulled away from her as my eyebrows furrowed. I hadn’t really thought about the social activism perspectives on this thing.

“How so? I haven’t put much thought into it since I mostly just used it to get off the farm.” I asked wanting to hear her ideas. She seemed like a very smart woman.

“Well it forces heteronormativity, it’s basically a pageant. And it’s not like if Dom doesn’t find the girl he’s looking for he can’t just… cancel this and start over. He’s trying to find someone he loves with only 35 girls here. It’s not as many as you might think. People meet and date tons of people before they find “the one”. He didn’t even get to pick you all for himself. Not that that would be a good thing either.” Alina explained. I hadn’t really thought of any of this.

“Are they not allowed to have a gay selection? I don’t really think of this as a beauty pageant if I don’t like Dom or anyone I’ll just act like a monster till I’m kicked out. I suppose you’re right though. In terms of activism, I’ve mostly thought about activism in castes. Because it’s personally hurt me my whole life and hatred against members of lower castes results in death, but I suppose when I think about it sexism here is pretty bad as well. Why can’t women have sex before marriage, if they wanna fuck they should be able to fuck. And why can’t people be gay? Man we’re really fucked. I should drink more, the best solutions always come from being drunk.” I said then took another chug of my whiskey.

Alina laughed then reached for my whiskey, “Maybe that’s enough for you.“ She then took away the only thing that mattered to me at that particular instance. My alcohol.

“Nooo, Princess cutie Lina, not my only love!” I pleaded and made a lazy attempt to reach for it once more.

Alina smiled at me before saying, “I’m sure you can find another love.”

I laughed and laid back on the bed. No, this is basically my last and only chance at finding a romantic partner. “I’m very sure I won’t Princess cutie. People don’t like sevens, let alone sevens who used to be 8s. I’m going to be a three now which means I’m not going to be around a lot of people who are around my true caste. I’m sure people will avoid me like the plague. Take me to the gardens  Lina? I wanna see your garden. I bet it’s amazing just like you.” I said and tried changing the topic to her gardens. The book on social etiquette had said not to get too much into personal stuff.  

“I don’t really show people my garden…”

“Oh, that’s fine then. I don’t want to overstep. Sometime though if you feel like it, I’d be more than happy to see it. I’ve always loved gardening. Even before I was a 7. When I lived in the alleyways with my sister and mom I would find dandelions and plant their seeds in places where I knew we’d stay for awhile just so I could hope that one or two of them would grow. I think it started because I was always wishing for a better life for my mom, I wanted all of the wishes I could get.” I said just blabbering on. I was getting into very socially incorrect territory though.

“That’s… I’m sorry.” Alina mumbled.

“It’s okay. She loved us and was happy with us, so it wasn’t too bad. I hated myself when I was younger for awhile. I would always wish for her to have a better life but I had hated myself for not wishing she would have a long life. I don’t mind as much now. I know dandelions can’t really make wishes come true.” I said and chuckled a little sadly, I used to be so stupid.

“Maybe they do, it just takes a while. I mean… you’re here right?” Alina suggested. Yes, I suppose I am much better now. But she isn’t, she’s dead.

“Ah, that’s true. I am at a better place now. I actually joined this not to escape the farm. I say that because I’m trying to tell myself that I did this for me, but I did it because I’m decisional and I think maybe my mom and my sister are still alive. I never saw either of them die. Or maybe my dad will regret being a jackass and get his ass over to this country and try and make things right. But mostly, I want them to be alive. I was supposed to protect my twin Stella. We were running from a group of people who harm 8s trying to clean them off the streets like weeds as they say. I had broken my leg a year before and hadn’t gotten the right medical help so it hadn’t healed, so I told Stella to hide and I would lure them away from her since she would make it further without me. But I never saw her again after that.  I miss them. But I guess it’s improper for me to be talking about all of this. I would normally hold my tongue. I guess I’m just not the best at holding my liquor.” I lamented. Why couldn’t I just shut my mouth?

“It’s not improper to have feelings.” Alina excused, trying to make me feel better about my failure.

“But rambling on like this to you would be. I tried reading a book on etiquette, I really don’t want people to use my caste against me, it said to refrain from talking too much about your personal life to people you hardly know. I’m not doing too well at it.”

Alina shrugged, “You’re drunk. And, hopefully, you’ll be here for a while. We have to get to know each other eventually.”

“Hopefully so. I don’t seem to have too much luck with men though, so your brother might quickly toss me aside. I had one conversation with Prince Percy and he has deemed me most hated. Granted I did yell at him because he said we might not get along after learning about my caste. It just seemed stupid that we were having a fine conversation but when that stupid number comes up suddenly I’m an alien.” I exclaimed, day one and I already had been judged for a number.

“Percy’s a shallow asshole, don’t pay attention to him.”

“Really? Do you think your brother will be the same? I want to stay here long enough to get to know you better and finally see your garden, Princess cutie.” I said then lightly bopped her nose once more.

“I never know what my brother’s thinking.”

“Men, such puzzles. Princess cutie, I never made you a flower crown. You deserve one too. You said you like Azaleas right? Or do you have a flower you prefer even more?” I asked.

“Lilies. Peruvian lilies, specifically, but ya know… All flowers are nice. Except for maybe orchids. I hate fucking orchids.”

“I will make you a flower crown with Peruvian lilies then! And those grass looking flowers you said you’ve been growing lately, they’ll do well to hold the structure of it. ah, orchids…the vomit of flowers.” Vomit was probably not the best word. They were one of those plants that looked like vines, but the part of the flower that’s supposed to be pretty just seemed unfitting on them. They were more like the preteen flowers. Awkward and lanky.

Alina laughed “They’re little bitches is what they are.”

“I had this one rose I named Lincoln, he wouldn’t grow right. I kept fighting with him. He wanted to be a vine and grow on something but I didn’t have anything for it to latch onto and it just kept flopping over.” I explained. Poor Lincoln. He ended up getting stepped on. Far too tall.

Alina raised her eyebrows and smiled, “You named a flower?”

“I name all of my flowers. They all have personalities. Lincoln was Lincoln because at first he was sturdy, dependable, and had futuristic ideas like trying to be a vine.” I explained. The name was very fitting.

Alina laughed, “That’s cute.” Like her.

“Aw, thanks like you. I will name my next flower after you. It will be Princess Lina, Cutie of Illea. It will be a Peruvian lily!” I exclaimed overjoyed at my new idea.

Alina laughed, “Well… thanks, I guess.”

“You’re very welcome Princess adorabes. Soooo, what are you going to do with that alcohol that you took from me? Because if you’re not going to drink it I will happily finish it off.” I suggested trying to get my lover back.

“I’m going to put it back where it came from. And you, Lady Fiona, you should get some sleep.” No, I’m not ready to leave just yet, I want to talk more with the best girl.

“Aw but sleep is overrated. All it does it make you lose time that I could be spending talking to pretty and hot girls like you, or gardening, or learning by reading, or dancing, or so many other things!” I argued.

“But I suppose if I must, could you walk me to my room, I’m afraid I’ll go to the wrong one, they all look so similar,” I added still wanting to have as much time with her as I could get.

Alina laughed once more, “Of course, Lady Fiona. This way.”

“Thank you, Princess hottie,” I said before rising and taking Alina’s hand. It was so soft and warm. I leaned against her a little as we walked.

Alina nodded at our hands, “You don’t uh… I mean, you can if you want but… I’m not a guy…” She mumbled. Aw such a cute stutter.

“Do you only take people’s arms when they’re male? Personally, I need the balance help.” I laughed. It’d be a shame if I could only hold her hand if she was male. It was a wonderful hand.  

“I mean, it’s not… Never mind. I’ll make sure you don’t fall.” Alina replied.

“Also I’m very aware that you are not a guy, you are the sexy, cutie, hot, badass, and above all 100% glorious Princess Alina Schreave.” I flirted before looking up at her and smiling while we walked.

Again I got to hear Alina’s amazing laugh, “I guess so, something like that.”

“Yup, not even something like that. You are exactly as I have described Princess. The very best.” I clarified.

Alina rolled her eyes, “You’re wasted.”

“But people tell the truth when they’re wasted, so you know what I’m saying is 100% accurate,” I argued.

One last time I got to hear Alina’s laugh, “Well… this is it. Your room.” She said. No, I would have to leave now. Part ways with the amazing cute button.

“Are you sure? I could have sworn it was much further than this.” I asked and pouted a little. Then I turned to face her. She wasn’t wrong it said my name on the plate.

“ well, I suppose it is. Goodnight princess cutie.” I added then leaned up and gave her a soft kiss on the cheek.

“sleep well!” I add then closed the door to my room before she could reply.

I walked over to my desk, pulled out a piece of paper and wrote a note.

To Do:

Make Alina flower crown.

Make Alina flower.

Alina.

Fiona you’re fucked as hell.