#I have been FREAKING OUT over murder drones these past few days

[livvylubug]

Are the AD team still on Copper 9?

Nope! They’re currently in space heading towards their objective, finding the absolute solver, and destroying it.

[scentedchildnacho]

She wanted to know if the police had been coming up to talk to me.....so i said a white truck blew a red light just for the tourism sport of trying to hit me....so something or someone called the cops but it appears cops may not be used without a relevant combative complaint....i didnt call them because i view their activity as already aware and legislated and that calling them to location is a 9/11 problem of they being murdered in the building also.....

I asked her why she was asking me and she said she just wanted to know......if they had been coming up to talk to people......and I just said some people around are really frightened and fatigued and other people become nazish territorial they aren't actually homeless they just come around like herta boethe was their prison pin up poster

They get territorial at people and they try to distribute Mexican pornography

Its at the guys it's at women .

...children are made to feel unwelcome its nazish...

Well it started with verbal abuse and then they started committing physical altercations towards others then their very territorial of project and I'm sorry but it's a millions of people migrant problem and people trapped outside in the snow aren't going to like much that they can't have migrational benefits for those people to tribalize systems

I mean I know what it's like to be poor and only have a room to rent in an underdeveloped unsafe building but that isn't homeless and truly any share I have had people have tried to share a home with me so I find it unappreciative and disrespectful to call myself homeless if I at least had a room of my own....

You think I won't experience it all and truly accomplish something philanthropic but trust me I know I know what your saying

I wanted to be my Self so trust me I will experience

Anyway the situation has to go back to non territorialism.....and the cops just said to me to be careful and stay dry if they think about regulations they think it is the wet dew marine layer off the ocean in the cold that is some difficulty

Bertrand Barre.......escape ing new Mexico las Cruces there were still many victims even getting out into nature or going to non drought truthfully the sound bomb attacks and constant trafficking is an all the time bomb

Like it could appear to be relieved but that was just a false mercy mean storms blow in from off shore something so

Then the letter film strange waves of microscopic radioactive breezes go through and your health can change from positive to slightly suffocated in a few minutes

Its becoming more aware that if one felt treated good at this level of nuclear expansion it was the very least people could do and my cerebrospinal fluid is shocked rigid just a bad bad time

There is something trespassing till people look like soldier freaks how PTSD....agent orange or dusting or killing fields

If you ask me there was like an environmentalist community here priorly and people started getting murdered

I have to admit after the past few years of no noise pollution enforcement.....the homeless may strategize a terrorist attack......and I don't like sasskia sassen her idea of building sounds like she breeds Timothy mckvay and tim was such a bloody nothing with no strategy

I don't really enjoy enlistment as something moral unless there is enough......good black people to explain issue so if those drone fly overs don't stop I would learn anti aircraft stuff with the military

She would do it breast feeding so people would stop polluting biomass so

They kept drone ing overhead then feelings like a gas is on one till you can't get jitter and nits off ya

Ojibwe nanabozho tries to blow up the whole world and now no street sign tells me the exact coordinates and mileage of a block nor what the buildings are and what pollutant warnings are that day

[nev3rfound]

blame it on the neighbours : b.b

having recently moved in next door, you and bucky become fast friends. however, there's something looming between the two of you and it comes to light when it's revealed you're in the hospital. (1.7k)

masterlist / permanent taglist / etsy shop - requests open!

requested: yes! by the very sweet @didsomeonesaybucky warnings: bucky freaking out if that counts? descriptions of hospitals

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website without being credited, it has not been approved to be shared by me. all rights reserved.)

Ever since you moved in and became Bucky's next-door neighbour, he could tell things were going to be different. In the first instance, he could hear you in the corridor, chatting away happily to your other neighbours, offering baked goods. He watched cautiously through the peephole, still having to yet meet you, he merely observed from afar.

When he finally met you, it wasn't the interaction he quite hoped for.

Standing in front of his door with a tray of cookies in hand, you release a shaky breath having heard from your other neighbours that the occupant in apartment 4F wasn't the friendliest. But you would simply have to judge that for yourself, you told them.

"He's a bit of a strange one, dear." Your neighbour, Clarissa in 2F warned you as she accepted the container of muffins you had made that morning. "Doesn't really leave or go out much, I think I've only ever heard him say morning once in the six months he's been here!" Her words echo in the back of your mind as you lift your hand up, knuckles lightly tapping the door.

With wide eyes, Bucky hesitantly walks toward the door and stares straight through the peephole. His breath halters, watching as you stare down at your feet.

Taking a deep breath, Bucky glides his fingers over the several locks across his door and slides through the small gap in the doorway with an attempted smile gracing his lips.

"Hi," You start, now lifting your eyes up toward this mysterious neighbour who is definitely not what you anticipated. "I, I'm Y/n, I moved in next door a week ago," Motioning to your apartment, Bucky forces his eyes to glance across down the hall before averting them back to you, taking in your features up close as you rub your lips together.

"Yeah, I heard you moving in." Bucky comments, internally cringing at his choice of wording. "I mean, I," His words falter at the sound of you chuckling softly to yourself. "can I start again? Is that alright?" He asks, grateful that you nod. "It's nice to meet you, Y/n. I'm James."

"Well, it's lovely to know my other neighbour, James. I, these are for you." Thrusting the tray forward, Bucky pushes his door open further with his foot to accept the tray, forgetting he didn't have his glove on.

Your eyes wander down to see his left arm is entirely metal. "Thanks." He mutters, feeling your eyes burning into his arm.

"I'm sorry," You quickly say, looking up at his face. "it's rude to stare, my Mom would scold me if she were here right now."

Bucky shakes his head, moving his leg to catch the back of the door. "Don't worry 'bout it." He brushes it off, but he notices your eyes wandering around the bland corridor and your lips parting.

"You don't happen to know any good places for dinner 'round here?" You move the conversation on, causing Bucky to raise a brow in response. "I'm kinda new to the area and I was wondering if you knew any good spots." You shrug your shoulders, hoping he couldn't read your mind and know that sentence was a complete lie.

"Erm, yeah." He sheepishly tells you, hearing Doctor Raynor droning in the back of his mind about putting himself out there, and not on those godforsaken dating apps again. "There's a great sushi place I know of."

Your smile brightens at his suggestion, and Bucky can't ignore how his lips rise at the sight. "Great, wanna join me then since you know it so well?" You suggest nonchalantly. "And you can always enjoy those as a dessert afterwards."

Looking down at the tray of warm cookies, Bucky tries to hide the sound of his stomach grumbling against the tray.

"Sure," He reaches into his apartment, grabbing his things including his gloves before following you out. "so, what brings you to Brooklyn?"

*

It's been several months since you moved in next door, and Bucky couldn't be happier that you plucked up the courage to knock that day.

Every week you two hang out, sometimes you join him and Yori for lunch who spends most of the time trying to convince Bucky to ask you out (only to be scolded when you're absent.) Sometimes you'll cook dinner, dance around your apartment and watch movies or wander around the city whilst Bucky tells you old stories; just like normal friends do, right?

It was truly blissful, but there was still so much about each other you had yet to learn.

Running his fingers through his combed hair, Bucky tugs on his blue henley before heading out.

As he locks his front door, he carries out dinner that he promised to make for you tonight.

"Oh, James." Your neighbour in 2F, Clarissa, stands in front of her door with her handbag and walking stick.

"Hi, Clarissa." Bucky forces a small smile, having heard her conversations regarding his past, muttering about having a murderer in the building shouldn't be allowed.

"Heading into Y/n's I take it." She hums, eyeing him carefully as he nods in response. "She should be back later, told me she had to go to the hospital." Waving herself off, Clarissa turns the lock in her doors.

"The hospital?" Bucky speaks up as the containers in his hands begin to slip, his mind going a hundred miles an hour. "Y/n's in the hospital?" Trying not to yell, Bucky steps closer, causing Clarissa to clutch her handbag tightly in front of her chest.

"Yes," Clarissa states calmly, but Bucky notices the keys in her right hand begin to shake.

"Thanks." Bucky mutters, stepping away as he darts back into his own apartment and grabs his coat, barely able to process his thoughts before rushing down the stairwell with nothing but you on his mind.

Reaching the entrance to the hospital, Bucky hands the driver some money without any words being exchanged. Bucky knew he looked like hell; he couldn't focus properly on anything. He had only seen you last night, the two of you in his apartment painting his living room walls, laughing together as you accidentally flicked paint across his cheek.

The reception area was crowded, voices bounced from wall to wall as Bucky strode toward the desk where a woman sat, staring blankly at a screen.

"How can I help?" She asks, briefly glancing up at Bucky before focusing on her screen once more.

Suddenly lost for words, Bucky homes in on a man crying in the waiting area, loudly sobbing into his hands as a nurse stands over him.

"Y/n Y/l/n, I'm looking for Y/n." Bucky forces the words out as the Nurse simply nods whilst typing away, humming a tune to herself.

"Oh okay," The Nurse pauses as her eyes scan over the monitor.

Clutching the edge of the desk, Bucky can hear the plates in his metal arm whirring as his grip tightens, nearly tearing the panel off as the silence becomes insufferable.

"So Y/n is currently in the operating theatre." The nurse tells Bucky nonchalantly, glancing up to see something change in his expression.

"No," Shaking his head, Bucky steps back. "she, I, I we were going to have dinner." It sounds pathetic to him, saying it aloud. But seeing you, having any moment with you made him feel human again, almost normal.

"Yeah, crazy how schedules fall." A heavy sigh leaves the nurses lips, unaware of the cool gaze that is locking in on her.

"Do you know when she'll be-" Before Bucky can finish his sentence, he's caught off guard by someone calling his name from the corridor.

"James?" You chuckle, walking toward him wearing your uniform adorned with your badge.

"Doll?" Bucky stutters, stepping closer as he tries to stop the tears in his eyes from forming. "You, you're okay?" He mumbles, looking you over, keeping his hands on your arms.

"Why wouldn't I be?" You ask, evidently surprised. "Everything okay, James?" Lowering your voice, you peer down to look him in the eyes whilst his head hangs low.

"Clarissa said you were in the hospital." Bucky huffs in annoyance to himself. "I, I didn't put it together," He mumbles. "I forgot that you,"

"That I'm a Doctor?" Holding back the laugh in your throat, you sigh before tugging Bucky closer into your embrace. "I'm okay, James. I'm only sorry you came all this way."

Keeping you in his arms, Bucky doesn't want to let go. Whilst your face rests in the crook of his neck, he allows a few stray tears to fall in relief. "I, I made us dinner." He eventually says, feeling you pull back to look at him, your eyes softening at the trails left on his cheeks.

"Oh, James." Raising your hand, you cup his cheek. "I'll be off work in an hour. I'm so sorry I should've said something or let you know sooner."

Shaking his head, Bucky takes your hand from his cheek and runs his fingers over your knuckles. "Don't worry 'bout it, Y/n. I'm just glad you're safe." He tells you, wishing he could say something else, but for now, that was enough.

"Did you make,- Your eyes light up in excitement, but Bucky cuts you off before you can finish your sentence.

"Yep." Bucky chuckles as you do a little dance. "You're such a dork sometimes, doll."

"Yeah," You admit, slipping your hand from his as you bury them in your pockets. "but would you have me any other way, neighbour?" Raising a brow to him, Bucky shakes his head. "Thought as much."

"I'll keep dinner warm for you." He smiles, hearing the word neighbour circle his thoughts. Yet, for once, Bucky forces his intrusive thoughts aside as his lips brush across your forehead. "Be good, Doc." He can't help but laugh to himself at the sound of your heart beating rapidly whilst externally, you remain cool.

"I'll try my best, Barnes." You salute him, watching as he walks back out of the hospital, knowing he's one step closer to calling you his girl.

t a g l i s t (thank you for the support!) link in my bio and at the top of this piece to add yourself☺️(if your user isn’t tagged, it’s because nothing comes up sorry!)

@bissstuff @psychicforest@lourightm@mywinterwolf@justsomedreaming @stanlux17 @smokeandnailz @supermoonchildbroski @xrosegoldwolfx@courtneychicken@marvelsangels@supraveng@tommy-lee-81@smilexcaptainx@fandom-princess-forevermore@sarge-barnes-sir@pleasantlysecretdream @decaffeinated-fangirl @howdyherron @kirby-boo @florencxs@eldahae @handmesomecoffee @hi-my-name-is-riley @dev1lbella @thanossexual @alissaginger @sambucky8@notbrooklynsblog @nikkixostan @cosmiccaptian @adoreyou976@sarcasticallywitty15 @multi-fandom-princess07 @16boyfriends-and-me @courtneychicken @mackevanstan80 @torchwoodoctor @pleasantlysecretdream @yougottalovefandoms @magicalxdaydream@soccer-100000 @tenaciousperfectionunkown @talksoprettyjjx @btsonthedaily @jessyballet @katiaw2 @buckyswildflower@lucrea @weenersoldierr @katiaw2 @lucrea @amelia-song-pond @bluelakeee @dottirose @emilytheukuleleplayer @5-seconds-of-mendes @rudystilins  @bookfrog242@wild-rose-35@fleurlovesbucky@iiclarixa @soldierstucky@twinerd14@lieswithoutfairytales@ateliefloresdaprimavera@teenwonder@weenersoldierr@nobody-will @ilikemypolarbear @rottenstyx @original-in-itself @sebby-staan @bbl32 @lyoongx @iilwjbb @siriuslyslytherin @chazubagi @youngmarveltastypersona

[larksinging]

aaaand here is a gift for @rorykillmore ‘s birthday! you didn’t say what you wanted which is good because i made you something completely fucking ridiculous instead. i call it “villanelle suffers”. also uh cw for graphic deaths

(also shoutout to jay for helping me brainstorm a bunch of this)

meeks!! i know its been a weird and difficult year, and you’ve been putting into so much hard work and dealing with a lot. i dont know if anything i alone can do can pay you back for all that, but i hope at least this can brighten your day a bit! you deserve it. and to get a bit sappy, you’re one of my best friends, and my life has greatly improved for knowing you. anyway i hope next year is more settled and all that hard work pays off!!

“Ah, quite the opposite. I’m here to congratulate you.” Konstantin sits down next to her on the couch. “I didn’t even have to tell you to make that last one an accident! Good job.”

Villanelle realizes she has two options: tell Konstantin the truth, or take credit for the freak accident.

“You know me, I just want to make you happy,” She replies in a sing-song voice.

“...Officials now believe that the incident started because of a mechanical failure in the pulley system, which caused it to snap and set off a chain reaction that sent the three elevators at the Delta hotel plummeting, killing twenty-three people.” 

“Whoa,” Villanelle hums between mouthfuls of popcorn. “How terrible.”

The droning of the television doesn’t quite drown out the sound of Konstantin entering her apartment. Villanelle pretends it does and ignores him. He lingers near the arm of her couch, looks between her and the TV, and then grabs the remote and shuts it off.

“Hey, I was watching that!” Villanelle throws some popcorn at him. “That’s very rude.”

“I didn’t take you for the sort to watch the news,” Konstantin brushes himself off.

“Half of it nowadays is fake. So it’s like watching a soap opera!” Villanelle waves a hand dismissively. “Anyway. You have a job for me? You didn’t come here to watch TV with me, I guess. Too bad. I ‘borrowed’ Devil from my neighbor. It looks terrible.”

“You’re really selling this,” Konstantin responds dryly as he pulls a postcard out of his pocket. “But you should really get some rest. This one’s big.”

That’s curious and exciting enough that Villanelle can’t quite think of a good quip when he leaves.

By “big”, it turns out that Konstantin did not mean that it was exciting or dangerous, but that literally it was a bigger body count than usual. Five whole people this time!  

Cursory research shows that they’re all a bunch of nobodies. No, literally! Most of them are college students from the same college. The only interesting thing about them is that they’re the five survivors of the weird elevator accident that was all over the news.

It could be some weird insurance fraud kind of thing. It’s gonna be real suspicious if all the survivors happen to die. But it’s not Villanelle’s job to care about that kind of stuff.

The first on her list is Jay, engineering, who she watches from across the street at a cafe. She notes them by their major because otherwise they blend together like the boring as of a B movie.

Right on time, exiting the building, there he is. She’s got a couple ideas in mind, most involving stabbing, but... then he takes a slight detour and goes over to a nearby payphone.

“Who even uses payphones anymore?” She grumbles to herself and gets up to find a good position to hang around in wait. Might as well lurk at nearby wall and pretend to look at her phone. He seems pretty serious about whatever call he’s making.

Villanelle’s there for barely more than a minute when the edge of the phone booth starts to spark ominously. She blinks, and before she can process it, he starts convulsing like he’s being electrocuted. She, and a few other shocked passersby watch in confused and terrified silence. Some smoke rises off his shoulders.

With no warning, he launches backwards and through the glass. It shattered and he sprawls out on the sidewalk below, blood starting to seep from cuts on his face and embedded glass in his shoulders and arms. Someone in the crowd screams. About five people reach for their phones, either to call for help or take a picture. Someone else rushes to his side, feels his wrist, and then (pathetically) starts trying CPR. Too late, Jay’s clearly dead.

Well. That works too.

The footsteps this time have a definitive lack of stomping, which means that Konstantin must be in a good mood. Great! Because Villanelle didn’t want his grumpiness to interrupt her painting her nails.

“If you tell me to hurry up, I’ll throw paint at you,” She warns. “Five is a lot! I’m working on it.”

“Ah, quite the opposite. I’m here to congratulate you.” Konstantin sits down next to her on the couch. “I didn’t even have to tell you to make that last one an accident! Good job.”

Villanelle realizes she has two options: tell Konstantin the truth, or take credit for the freak accident.

“You know me, I just want to make you happy,” She replies in a sing-song voice.

“O.K. Cool. Keep up the good work.” He gives her a thumbs up.

“Please never do that motion with your hands again. You doing that is -- ugh.”

The next one on her list is Charlie, art major. The first thing Villanelle notes about her is that her outfit is terrible. It’s like what a hangover would look like as clothes. Artists!

Villanelle tracks her to a mall. The parking garage is just a bit too full right now, but maybe she’ll stalk her through the mall until she comes back.  She watches the girl enter the elevator (haha, ironic) heading down to ground level. Too bad there’s a couple other people in the elevator. That’s fine, Villanelle can just take the stairs.

Just as she turns to head down the stairs she hears a faint commotion. Someone in the elevator bumps into Charlie just as the elevator springs into motion. As she stumbles towards the door, something snaps and the elevator jerks and falls. Charlie’s positioned conveniently enough so that her head is separated clean from her shoulders as the elevator plummets. The freed head bounces along the floor and rolls almost to Villanelle’s feet.

The screaming from the elevator (which sounds like it’s stopped the next floor down, not crashed, now THAT’S ironic) is the perfect soundtrack to Villanelle’s disbelief.

“Wow,” She says, “Just like that movie! Genetic!”

-------

Bizarre accidents aside, Villanelle is not about to lose her momentum. The last three survivors all end up congregating on the beach. Villanelle, with a pair of new designer sunglasses coming out of her next paycheck, listens to their hushed conversation from an inconspicuous distance away. Who talks in hushed whispers about something serious at a beach? Seriously?

“I’m telling you, what if death has a plan, and we messed it up?” One of them, who Villanelle remembers as Billy, philosophy, is drawing something in the sand. “We were supposed to die in those elevators, but we didn’t.”

“Because of your... vision, or whatever?” Tommy, film, rolls his eyes. Villanelle also rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, because we got off. And now it’s coming to hunt us down one by one. If we can just see the signs, maybe...”

Villanelle doesn’t hear the rest of what he says, because a stray gust of wind blows sand into her face. She sputters even as some paper flies behind her to where they’re sitting.

“This is-- ow.” Villanelle glances back to see the last of them, Sara, dance, toss a book down. “Papercut. Anyway, this is ridiculous. Death isn’t stalking us. Get real.”

“You tell them,” Villanelle mutters to herself. Except she gets drowned out by some seagulls squawking ominously, which is weird, how can that obnoxious noise sound ominous?

“I’m going for a swim.” Sara stands up pointedly. “You two can keep making up nonsense.”

“Sara, wait--” Billy reaches out, but she’s already heading down the beach.

In the water, it’s easy enough to bump against someone with a concealed knife. So Villanelle stretches and languidly rises to her feet. Sara’s already wading past the shallows as Villanelle follows her. Except the shape of something cresting through the water slows her, and she watches the events unfold in dizzy shock.

Just as Billy shouts Sara’s name, a shark leaps from the water and drags Sara under. The water bubbles up red and someone behind Villanelle screams. After a few seconds, Sara actually does resurface and stumbles out of the water. Villanelle winces at the bite wound on her leg. Sara manages to limp back onto the beach when a rogue blast of wind hits. Nearby beach goers, still watching Sara, hold onto their hats as a beach umbrellas is ripped from its post. The umbrella goes spinning in the wind, gaining momentum. And then comes to a dead stop by impaling Sara.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Villanelle says.

“You lied to me,” Konstantin accuses.

“Whaat.” Villanelle doesn’t bother to get up from where she’s sprawled on the couch. “I did not.”

“You did,” He counters. “Those were all accidents. You didn’t actually do your job.”

“Oh. That. Okay, maybe I did lie.” Villanelle cranes her neck to look up at them. “But they’re dead either way, so does it really matter?”

Konstantin raises a finger to scold her, then hesitates and lowers it. He sighs. “Okay. Well. The Twelve aren’t angry, but they’re not going to pay you if you’re not actually the one doing it.”

“What! It’s not my fault the freak accidents are beating me to the punch!”

“Then get more clever about the last two. I know you can.” He turns and waves as Villanelle crosses her arms and pouts.

“Stupid... death, or whatever.”

This time, okay, this time she’s not gonna get one-upped by random acts of violence. Villanelle tracks Tommy to the library where he’s studying late into the night. Much better. There’s lots of quiet little opportunities for murder and ways for her to manipulate the situation.

For example: she’s put a wet floor sign in front of the bathroom on the ground floor so that he’ll be forced to go to one that’s more remote. It shouldn’t work, but it does. Perfect.

The corner of the library outside the third floor bathroom is perfectly quiet and dark. Lots of narrow corners to catch him where nobody else will see. Some of the books might get some blood on them, but… That’s a sacrifice she’s willing to make.

There’s a noise from inside the bathroom and Villanelle is just about ready to explode. But no, it’s fine, he emerges a moment later grumbling with wet shoes and a sizable trickle of water coming from the bathroom. Something must’ve broken, but it wasn’t his head!

Before anything else can happen, she turns around a corner to block him between some shelves.

“Can I help you?” He asks, glancing between her and the direction of the bathroom.

“You could... no, you know, I’m not really in the mood for clever lines.” She just shrugs and pulls out a knife. It spooks him enough that he turns and darts back. “Hey!”

He slips on a nearby puddle and bumps into one of the shelves, which sways and then collapses in his direction. It takes a moment of coughing for Villanelle to see through the dust that it kicked up. The shelf has him pinned face-down on the floor, but from the way he’s struggling he’s still alive.

“See? That is what you get for running.” Villanelle sighs dramatically and walks around the toppled shelf. “This would be easy, they said. And now I’m going to have to lift this off of you. That’s not easy at all.”

She shakes her head to see that he’s just twitching occasionally. Uh-oh. She goes to work lifting the shelf off of him, which is a little easier with all the books having fallen out. She moves it just enough to get to a point where she can lift him up, and….

He’s dead. His face is dripping wet. Villanelle looks down at the puddle on the ground.

“You drowned in a puddle.” She shakes his corpse. “You drowned in a puddle! How could you.”

This time, Villanelle’s just taking a walk through a park at like 1am because someone is playing a cosmic joke on her and she hates her life and goddamnit shes gonna find somewhere that serves ice cream and/or alcohol at 1am. One of those is easier than the other.

What she gets instead is Billy, wandering through the same wooded park that she is. Due to an extremely convoluted series of events that might be called a narrative climax, she’s sure. Villanelle just kind of stops and stares at him.

“It’s you,” He gasps, “The specter of death. You’re death itself.”

“No,” Villanelle answers. “Well, yes. I mean, I am here to kill you. But there’s nothing weird and supernatural about it. Get a grip!”

Billy stares at her for another second, and then fucking books it. Villanelle just sighs because of course, and follows him. She’s going to get this paycheck, damnit.

Her heart leaps into her throat when their chase rounds a corner and he stumbles into a wood chipper. She watches in horror as he goes tumbling in head first, and she holds up an arm to protect herself from a spray of blood...

...Only an annoyingly sinister leaf lands on her arm. Oh. The wood chipper wasn’t on. She goes over and wrenches Billy free of it, but he manages to squirm out of her grasp.

“Come back here!” She calls. Her voice is drowned out by a loud creaking.

Her last target turns to look at her while running and, before both their eyes, one of the trees inexplicably leans and then comes crashing down. Villanelle’s mouth hangs open as she watches it fall directly onto Billy and the comically horrific crunch that follows.

A moment of shocked silence hangs in the air as the leaves all settle.

“I give up,” Villanelle announces. “Okay, Death. You win! Give a girl a break, geeze.”

“I can’t do this anymore,” Villanelle confesses when Konstantin comes in.

His pace slows to a stop. Something churns behind his expression. Concern, maybe? The realization that she might need to be taken care of?

“I can’t be upstaged by freak accidents anymore!” Villanelle wipes a tear away. “Do you know what this is doing for my reputation? For my self-esteem?”

Konstantin’s choked laugh just makes her glare dramatically. “Don’t worry. Your next job is in Florence. Political. You love that kind.”

Villanelle perks up. “Oh, good! You always know how to cheer me up.”

Kostantin smiles. “Okay, but tell me one thing. Did a tree really fall on him, or did you just make that up?”

“Of course it did! Would I ever lie? Okay, fair. Would I ever lie that badly if it’s warn’t true?”

“Mm. Fair enough.”

[rom-e-o]

“Be more careful next time. I don’t want to bandage you up again.”

((Aaaand finished! Thanks to the lovely @treya-barton for the fantastic suggestion! I love doting, sweet prompts like this, so I had a lot of fun writing the dialogue for this one. I hope you enjoy! You can also read the fic on AO3.))

“Ouch!”

The sound of pain erupted from Yosuke’s mouth as Yu placed a cotton pad soaked in disinfectant on his swollen cheek. Just the brief contact alone was enough to make the orange-haired boy yelp in distress.

The sound was severe enough to concern Yu, who retracted his hand immediately and reexamined his partner’s face for any obvious injuries.

“Sorry, was that too much?” he asked.

“Hell yeah, it was!” Yosuke replied. “Can’t you just use regular soap? Whatever fancy first-aid stuff you’re using hurts like hell.”

“It’s just rubbing alcohol,” Yu offered simply.

“Well, that rubbing alcohol hurts like hell,” Yosuke reiterated.

The sassiness of his statement didn’t evade Yu’s attention. Instead of offering another sympathetic reply, Yu offered him a half-lidded stare. His expression was not one of amusement.

“I’m sorry it hurts Yosuke, but I have to clean your injuries,” he said with his usual, deadpan logic. 

Carefully, Yu reached back out and caressed his partner’s lightly freckled cheek with the wetted cotton. Adding pressure back onto the sore area elicited a hiss from Yosuke the second time around.

The odor coming off the sterile liquid was nauseatingly string. If given enough time, Yosuke thought it could probably peel the paint off the ceiling. He didn’t even want to think of what the concoction would do to his skin.

“It’s just killing the germs,” Yu replied, answering Yosuke’s silent inquiry as if he could read his friend’s mind. “Just a little more. Then I’ll patch you up.”

Yosuke heaved a sigh of relief. The injury to his face hadn’t been the only injury Yu had dressed for him. In the past half hour.

His swollen cheek was merely the last and most painful destination on Yu’s list.

“Hey, I have to ask you a question,” Yu said as he reached back into the nearby kit to open a box of bandages.

Yosuke groaned loudly.

“I think I know what you’re going to ask,” he confessed with a moan. “But go ahead. Shoot.”

Yu paused for a moment to peel open a large, flesh-colored bandage. He held up the patch to see if it would be adequate for the cut on his friend’s face. 

He continued slowly, “I have to know. It’s weird enough that the first time we met, that you were rolling around in a trash can. I kind of just accepted it as a freak accident, you know? Sometimes weird things just happen.”

“We have seen worse,” Yosuke said with a laugh.

The humor wasn’t reciprocated.

“I can understand it happening once, Yosuke,” Yu said as he placed the patch over his friend’s cheek and pressed. He tried to ignore how his fingertips were just gentle brushing the velvety skin near Yosuke’s jaw. “But, twice?”

Earlier that day, Yu had left school after opting to take a few minutes after class to ask the teachers some questions about upcoming midterms. The entire affair had probably taken less than ten minutes. When Yu had emerged from the school gate and started home, he’d spied a very familiar bicycle discarded on the sidewalk and had heard an even more familiar voice, albeit muffled, yelling for help.

Upon rounding the corner, an even more familiar pair of skinny legs was writhing from atop a trash can on the street corner.

“It could have happened to anyone!” Yosuke cried in his meager defense. “I’m serious, partner. Something must be up with my spokes or tires or…something! I was just riding along and, before I knew it, ‘wham!’”

After retrieving his friend from the toppled trash can and discovering that he had multiple cuts all over his body, including his face, Yu hadn’t hesitated to pull him back to his house and patch him up in his room.

Even in the background while they spoke, they could hear the faint hum of the house’s television and the familiar bumps and clangs of Nanako helping with the household chores outside his bedroom door.

“You are the only human being I know who has ever gotten stuck in a trash can,” Yu said. “Again, twice.”

“So, you…do know someone else who’s only gotten stuck in a trash can only once?” Yosuke asked with a hesitant but hopeful smile. The expression was completely dashed when Yu shook his head in denial.

“No, I was just trying to make you feel better,” Yu admitted. “Did it work?”

“Not after you just admitted it like that!” Yosuke cried. His hand flew up to cover his eyes as he sank against the wall into a defeated heap. “Ugh. Man, I’m such a freakin’ failure, aren’t I?”

“I’d hardly say that,” Yu replied with a tilt of the head. “You’re not great at writing a bike, but hey, that hardly makes you a failure.”

The puff of air Yosuke exhaled between his fingertips let Yu know his friend wasn’t convinced.

“You’re not a failure,” Yu said, his sympathetic tone returning at the sight of his friend’s obvious low esteem. “Don’t forget that the Investigation Team wouldn’t even exist if it hadn’t been for your suggestion.”

A slightly more interesting sound came from Yosuke’s still-burrowed face. It was something between a ‘hm’ and an ‘eh.’ Yu knew his best friend, his partner, well enough to know that he was getting somewhere.

Rather than trying to convince Yosuke from his cross-legged position on the floor, he decided to stand up and take the open seat next to Yosuke on his bed.

He sat down beside his friend, who was still pressed his face into his hands and wrapped an arm on his shoulder. With a light tug, he pulled their bodies close together until their shoulders bumped. The act elicited another sound for Yosuke, but this time, Yu couldn’t immediately discern the meaning.

“Also, if I remember correctly, you were one of the first people to connect the murders in Inaba to people’s appearances on the Midnight Channel,” Yu said, offering his friend another playful nudge. “Am I wrong?”

Yosuke hesitated for only a moment before shaking his head. He spoke in a lethargic drone, “Yeah, but that was nothing special. Anyone could have figured that out. It was just a lucky guess.”

Yu’s silver brow lofted in doubt.

“You mean to tell me that you made an entire series of lucky guesses, all of which just happened to be the exact answers that we had been searching before?” Yu asked, his tone one of mock confusion as he pretended to muse aloud. “That doesn’t seem to add up, Yosuke. It sounds to me like you actually figured a big part of all the murder cases out before anyone else did. Including me.”

Yosuke lifted his head a little bit but remained silent.

“You’re smart, Yosuke,” Yu told him seriously. He tightened his hold on his friend just a little bit, bringing him a little closer for a slightly tighter embrace. “You’re also courageous and so fiercely loyal that it boggles my mind. You’re an incredible person. My only complaint is that I hate seeing you get hurt. It doesn’t matter if it’s from a trash can or a Shadow.”

Following Yu’s admission, Yosuke let out a light laugh. It was a sound of exasperation, but Yu also noticed the very evident smile on Yosuke’s face. The coral-colored blush on his uncovered cheek and the bridge of his nose didn’t go unnoticed either.

“You’re, like, the only guy who can tease me one second and them make me feel better the next,” he said. “I don’t know how you do it, but I feel better.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Yu reminded up, reaching up to playfully pinch his friend’s uninjured cheek. “I just reminded you of all the great things you’re already done.”

The little tweak caused Yosuke to purse his lips. He did end up shaking his face free from Yu’s touch, but not as quickly as Yu had anticipated. With a laugh, Yu released his friend and dropped his hand back down onto the mattress, right next to Yosuke’s.

“Just please be more careful next time,” Yu said, taking Yosuke’s hand into his. “I don’t want to bandage you up again.”

“I will,” Yosuke promised with a sigh. “I’ll try to be more careful.”

Yu gave him a stern look.

“Okay, I will be more careful,” Yosuke back-tracked with a laugh. “Thanks again, partner. For what it’s worth, it’s nice to know that you’re handy with a first-aid kit. Good to know.”

The comment got a rise out of Yu. In a second, his expression changed from serious to mischievous.

“I’m glad to know you enjoy my nursing skills,” Yu remarked. “I’m honored to hear that from someone as knowledgeable as you. You flatter me.”

The comment, as expected, only enhanced the redness on his friend’s visage.

“Bro, you know that’s not what I meant!” Yosuke said with furious embarrassment. Unfortunately, fuel had already been added to the teasing fire that always burned in Yu’s chest for his most treasured companion.

“Maybe if you’re good, I’ll dress up as a nurse next time,” Yu replied with a devilish smirk.

“Stop!” Yosuke said, burying his face back into the sleeve of his blazer.

The act only had Yu laughing even harder than before, much to Yosuke’s chagrin.

“I didn’t even say anything about nurses!” Yosuke whined against his sleeve. “Ugh, Teddie is rubbing off n you too much. C’mon, partner! If you don’t stop laughing, I’m going to march right out of here! Hell, I’d rather roll out of here in another trash can!”

“Not yet,” Yu said. “I haven’t bought the costume yet. I’d be unprepared to treat you.”

“You are such an ass!”

Perhaps Yosuke’s embarrassed cried would have been more convincing he’d actually tried to let go of Yu’s hand.

[exy-for-your-ecstasy]

TFC Prompt: Neil turns into a raven. Literally. An actual raven. Caw-caw and all.

(This is so bad and rushed as fuck but hey you asked for it.) 

Andrew wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he received his third cryptic death threat through the mail the other day. Maybe he’d find a dead rat at his door sometime during the week, perhaps whoever the bastard was would be a touch more creative and set something on fire for once. 

It certainly wasn’t to come home to find a black winged demon flapping around his living room, pecking at his boyfriend’s Exy racket.

Creative indeed. It caught Andrew by surprise at least, enough to make him stop up short at the door, puzzling over where and how someone might’ve broken in and let loose a fucking raven into his flat.

Andrew dared take his eye off the bird to check the time. If he wasn’t mistaken Neil should’ve been back by now to witness this atrocity. “Josten!” His yell reverberated against the walls. The bird screeched at him and flapped helplessly a few times. Andrew stepped around it to search the kitchen and bedroom, but there was no sign of Neil.

Except from the pool of his clothes by the desk. Andrew frowned as he kicked at Neil’s worn pair of jeans and shirt. Neil wasn’t the type to leave his clothes so haphazardly on the floor. The neat freak was too paranoid for shit and protected his belongings better than a mother hen protected her eggs…

So then why…

Andrew felt the bile crawling up his throat before he could realise how hard his heart hammered against his ribs, the awful but familiar dread that pierced into his gut.

No. No, no, no, not again.

He dug for his phone and called Neil on speed dial. The familiar ringtone sounded from somewhere on the bed. “Motherfucker.” Andrew leapt out of the room, about to dive for his jacket when suddenly, bird swooped across the room. It landed horribly, in a tangle of wings and feathers, right where Andrew’s jacket was folded over the settee.

Andrew flinched and fought the desperate urge to grab the stupid bird by the neck and snap it’s wings. The raven screeched again, high pitched and desperate. Andrew froze in place, hand still outstretched, blood humming agains this ears, his skin, and stared at raven down. The raven stared back…

It had Neil’s blue eyes. But…it couldn’t…

“…Neil?”

The raven did something like a sad nod. And somehow, for some reason, Andrew didn’t doubt it. 

His boyfriend had gotten himself turned into a raven.

How would a normal person react to this? Would they have laughed? Cried? Screamed bloody murder? Andrew couldn’t quite put his finger on what he was feeling, all he could do was stare at his bird boyfriend for a endless moment, his brain blank of solution.

Neil the raven blinked back at him, turning his head this way and that.

Finally, Andrew reached out and bared his palm upwards. Neil hopped unsteadily onto Andrew’s fingers, then his palms, spreading his wings to find his balance. “A Raven,” Andrew said, “Hilarious.” 

Neil squawked. Andrew flicked his beak. “Calm down.” He said. 

Luckily they weren’t expecting any visitors or Skype calls any time soon, even if he wouldn’t put it past Nicky to show up unannounced and uninvited. But Andrew wasn’t one for patience. He wasn’t just going to wait around to see if Neil returned back to normal. 

Andrew had a game with Henderson Bulldogs tomorrow, and he could bet his Marserati that one of them had to do with the death threat and whatever this shit was. 

Andrew slipped out his phone again and rang a certain coach that still happened to be on speed dial. The man picked up on the second ring.

“[And he’s still alive.]” Wymack droned from the other end. If he was surprised by the rare call then he didn’t show it. 

“You sound disappointed.” Andrew said. Neil tilted his head in question; ‘who are you calling?’

“[What is it Minyard, I ain’t got time for—]”

“Neil’s a Raven.”

There was a significant pause. “[Neil Josten will live and die a Fox before he—]”

“He’s a Raven, coach. With wings. Caw-caw and all.”

Another long, dramatic pause. Andrew could hear papers ruffling around in the background, the sound of a chair squeaking. “[I ain’t got time for your shits and giggles, Minyard.]”

“You think I’d call you for shits and giggles?” Andrew jeered and, as if on cue, Neil screeched down the phone and flapped his wings again. Andrew let go of him, but Neil flew to rest against Andrew’s shoulder, head tilting to listen in on the converastion. 

“[The fuck was that?]”

“That would be your previous captain.” The more he spoke the more Andrew could feel the irritation brimming at his chest. He was getting itchy with it. “I’d call my own coach but he hasn’t got the same heart as you, dearest David. And this is your player he’s messed with. Not his. So I’ll make this quick. You’ve got ten minutes to threaten the living shit out of the Henderson Bulldogs. If Harry Potter of Exy doesn’t fess up then tell them they’ve got me to deal with at tomorrows. And they won’t come out of it looking pretty.”

Wymack took a deep breath. He must’ve known Andrew wasn’t one for petty phone pranks, especially when Andrew hadn’t called him once since he graduated. “[I’ll call you back.]” The call flat lined.

Andrew sat down with a sad looking raven for a few minutes before a text off Wymack told him that his game with Henderson Bulldogs tomorrow was cancelled, the ‘Harry Potter of Exy’, as he called him, would be suspended, and for them to wait a few minutes before the charm on Neil wore off.

Andrew messaged back: ‘Fucking ‘charm’?’

‘Apparently they put a charm at your front door. Didn’t realise Neil lived with you’

Oh, they were smart to cancel the game tomorrow.

He didn’t bother replying after that. Though he was sure Wymack had sent more questions. “You’re a fucking loser, Josten.” Andrew grumbled. “You’re charmed. Guess you just have to wait it out. Think you can do that?”

Neil tittered across the sofa, hopped onto Andrew’s lap. “I fucking hate birds.” Andrew said.

Neil squawked. Andrew couldn’t tell what he was trying to say, so he hazard a guess. “You cause more trouble then you’re worth.” Andrew ran his finger over Neil’s smooth beak. Neil let him. “I hate ravens more than I hate you.” It was strange being the one doing all the talking. He was so used to Neil mouthing off around him.

Andrew lay across the couch. He was sore to the bone from training, practically had to drag himself in and out of the showers and into his car.

He didn’t know when he stared to dose off. But when Andrew came back to it, he didn’t flinch. Not even with now Neil lying next to him on the couch, warm, calloused hand gripped firmly in his.

Neil’s broad smile greeted him. “You hate ravens more than me?” He said.

Andrew didn’t bother smiling back but gripped Neil’s hand tighter in his. “On second thought, I liked you better as a bird.”

[spydre]

We Don't Have Time For A Gang War

 (Game Date: 4/15/2021)

(Or, This Was Supposed To Be A Side Quest)

There we stood, betwixt the carnage of our skirmish with the Masques and the rubble of their demolished drug factory.  My ears were still ringing from the explosion (Katrya's suppliers have top-shelf military supplies) when the foxkin began herding everyone into various vehicles.   Mostly she sorted them by age and state of injury; those she deemed more at-risk were directed into the "junk" van, while the rest she wanted in Frank.  The new mission, as she saw it and I could not dispute, was to clear out Varfana's shop.  

I waved them ahead, because I wanted to stay behind long enough to harvest a BANlink from one of the fallen gangers.  Gordianus also stayed, because she wanted to try to gather intel from the neighborhood (she actually did overhear a number of conversations, which may prove useful later).  I wished her luck, but also bade her be careful.  Then I took my stolen tek and mounted the Owlet.

I was headed for the mech shop; Frank for the weapon shop to help clear it out.  During the flight, Lohrig got a text which read, "You messed up," and then Varfana's shop exploded.  No one was hurt, thankfully, and most of the important equipment was cleared out, but damn.  We can be grateful for Katrya's quick thinking.

Another message followed quickly:  "Your next delivery is you. One hour. Mess this one up and we order take-out instead."  

They needed somewhere to lay low, and I needed to put together a plan.  I suggested Sanctuary.  If Border Patrol couldn't track down their missing agents, then I highly doubted that any drug-peddling street thugs could, no matter how determined.  

I wasted about five minutes with swearing and self-recrimination.  We had stopped our little caffeine-pill operation specifically to avoid starting crap with these street gangs, and now here we were, smack in the middle of a full-fledged war.  I should have seen this coming.  I should have planned better.  

And now, here I have this BANlink, which has contacts and records, but without an active call, I can't trace anything.  To make matters worse, the younger members of our cabal are badly shaken, and are asking me to leave them out of future schemes that may involve straight-up murder.

We've been hit in the morale.  Time to actually use my brain for something besides keeping my hair in place.

Okay.  What do we actually know?

The boss recruits by intimidation.  When faced with any sort of resistance, he retaliates and escalates.  Right now, he wants Lohrig, which means we absolutely cannot let him have Lohrig.  But what else?  He made an "or else" threat, so if he doesn't get what he wants, then he will move against the kid's family.  Maybe he will, even if he does get what he wants.  

I sent Katrya, along with her choice of backup, to check out the family residence.  She knows what explosives, and suspicious people, look like, and is more than capable of disarming both.  I also send Maggy ahead to the spot where Lohrig is supposed to deliver himself.  That should buy a bit of breathing room.  How much?  I had Parker set a countdown timer.  Damn.  Not much at all.

Next.  We don't have any drones that match the kid's body type.  I can simulate his face well enough with a FakeFace(TM) necklace, but that's about it.  I fed Lohrig's voice, and my plan, to Parker, slung the Dawn drone onto my Owlet, then made book for Sanctuary. 

The idea bubbling up was this:  If we could pass Dawn off as the dwarf boy, then perhaps we can ambush their pickup.  There is bound to be an active call going on, because the Masque boss will not be able to resist monitoring the kid's punishment.  That should give me another chance to trace his location.  

But, to do that, I need to get my people, and Lohrig's BANlink, all of which are out at comms-dead Sanctuary.  The clock is ticking.

It took Vamir a couple of tries to get the illusion right on the drone.  If we weren't already in motion, the delay would have made us late for the rendezvous.  All I could do was fidget.  To keep myself busy, I worked out a new packet for my anthrodrone virus, telling them to beat any Masque senseless, rip off their mask, and send a picture of their face to Border Patrol.  Gave it a five-day lifespan, to keep them from weaponizing the order against innocents.  It made me feel better.

Only a few minutes remained when we pulled up, invisibly, to the broken-down playground.  Vamir spotted a spy-eye, He saw the brand name (Floating Eye) and that it was tagged with the Masque logo.  He could probably have read the serial number if it hadn't been filed off.  I immediately started hacking into its signal.  

About this time, a call came through on Lohrig's BAN.  Parker picked up.

 "You messed up, kid. You messed up big-time.  And now your family is paying the price. How does that make you feel?"

Parker hesitated.  I would have liked to guide my VP through the conversation, but the hack was giving me trouble, and I couldn't afford to split my attention.  I just told her to keep them on the line as long as possible.  

 "I... I feel... sad."

"You should. It's your fault, what happened to the family shop. You had a simple job, to make deliveries, but your failure... Well, that's the kind of guilt you're going to have to carry for the rest of your life."

Parker approximated a sobbing sound.  Quite seriously, I don't think it would have fooled someone who was expecting a deception, but the caller (almost certainly the Masque boss) was in it for the gloat.

"Hush now. Don't worry. I have something for you. Go to the slide."

"W-... what's at the slide?"

"You'll see. It's a gift."

Bingo!  I found the pilot of the spy-eye.  Traced the drone's signal back to his ban and heard him describing all the visible action to someone who sounded exactly like the voice on Lohrig's BAN.  I started tracing that call back.

About this time Parker (driving Dawn (disguised as Lohrig)) reached the rusty slide, and was directed by the caller to take a package  that was taped beneath it.  She, being cautious, asked what was in it.

"Like I said, a gift. Something that will take away your guilt. Take it."

"That is a bomb," warned Katrya, who, like all of us, was eavesdropping over the commlink.

This situation really irritated me.  I didn't want to lose this 20k hardware investment over some stupid homemade bomb, but neither did I want the caller to hang up before the trace was complete.  I told Parker to proceed, but be ready to throw the package at the pilot's location.  So she retrieved it, and took a peek.  

Wires,  flashing lights, plastique.

"Good," crooned the slimy voice.  "Now all you have to do, is let go. Let go, and you won't have to carry this guilt anymore."

"Don't throw that, Parker!" I ordered.

Vamir said, "There's probably a remote detonation switch."

"I'm on it," from Ryatt.  Mere seconds later, he reported, "Remote detonater is off, but I can't do anything about the deadman switch."

I was past the first VPN,  and had the call back to the same sector of the city as before.  "Parker," I said, "don't throw -- run toward the drone pilot.  Gang, we are going to try to take a prisoner."

I could hear the pilots panicked reaction over my hijacked link through his drone.  He was completely freaked out to see the poor sad little dwarf boy kick up his heels and run straight towards his parked hardshell.  He was even more freaked out when his remote detonator didn't work - he kept pressing it, repeatedly, screaming over his BANlink, "I'm trying, it's not going off!"

One more creepy, ominous portent arrived over Lohrig's BANlink: "You don't learn quickly. Goodbye, kid. Shame you'll never get to say goodbye to your family."  Then the call terminated...but not before I managed to nail the location.  Sector, street, apartment.  Gotcha.

Looking up, I saw everything moving very quickly.  We had the pilot's van surrounded, although he didn't know it yet, as everyone save the Dawn drone had ruthenium cloaking.  He was powering up, getting ready to flee.  I shut that down quickly -- after so long struggling against multiple VPNs, it was an absolute pleasure to accomplish a straightforward vehicle hijack.  

Meanwhile, back at the dwarven residence,  a couple of un-masked Masques had received orders and were making their move, reaching under jackets and closing in on the flat.  Katrya and Varfana quickly got that under control - they were carrying explosives, as expected.  This gang seems to be overly fond of explosives; we'll have to watch out for that.  They were not carrying anything that proved an adequate defense against shocking blades and foxkin fists of fury.

At the sad little playground, we dropped our invisibility once we had the hardshell surrounded.  I popped open the door and Vamir told the driver to step out.  Which he did...but then he opened his hand, and the night light up.

He had been holding a deadman's switch of his own, and the explosion came either from a bomb he carried on him, or from close behind him in the van.  Either way, it killed him instantly.  Most of our crew escaped the brunt of the blast.

But not the Dawn drone.  Parker had to keep the bomb she was holding still, and couldn't employ full range of movement - and could not get the drone out of the way quickly enough.  It was disabled, to say the least, and that was a problem, because it was carrying a live bomb.

The second blast also did not kill anyone, but it certainly ensured that nothing salvageable remained of that drone.  

Parker's normal voice quavered across my BANlink.  "Did... Did I just die, Zeke?"

I made a mental note to have a long discussion with Parker about death later -- and to take some precautions against her actually dying.  For now, I simply reassured her that the loss of the drone did not mean that she died, and praised her performance as a frightened Lohrig.

Then, while the healers were patching everyone up, I scavenged what equipment I could from the wreckage, got the hardshell running, and we headed out.  

We needed rest, and a plan.  We can not afford to let this go on any further.  

..::Kai::..

[lilyluvswriting]

I’m Not Crazy

 warnings: mental illness, cursing 

The sun warmed Olivia’s face as she stared out the window. She could see the birds flying around and the other kids running around the yard. She shifted in her seat, her gaze darting to her therapist before returning to the window. He continued droning one about things she no longer cared about. After meeting here three times a week for the past two years, nothing he said was of interest to her anymore.

   “Olivia.” The stern voice brought her back to him, “If you don’t start listening, you’re only going to be stuck here longer.”

   “I just don’t get the point,” she huffed, “I stick to the schedule, I stick to those little exercises you teach me. I know just as well as you do that I’m never getting out. “

    The therapist crossed his legs and wrote something in a little notebook.

“You do remember why you’re here, correct?”

   Memories flashed through her mind. Her parents screaming. Her sister’s pale face.

“Yes,” she whispered

“Do you believe you should be released?” Her therapist continued as she scrawled out more notes.

           A warm tingling sensation ran through her fingers. There had been so much blood. A metallic taste filled her mouth as she chewed on her bottom lip.

           “No” she whispered

           “And why not?” He looked over his glasses at her.

           She took a shaky breath, squeezing her hands into fists.

           “I’m a danger to everyone around me.” She repeated the rehearsed lines.

           He nodded, writing more notes down before folding the notebook and looking up at her.

           “Have you noticed any changes since you’ve been able to admit this?”

           She hesitated, glancing around the small office. The brightly colored walls made it harder to tune out the world though.

           “Olivia,” he demanded, “are you still seeing her.”

           “Go on, answer him.” A girl’s voice spoke up beside her.

           Olivia shook her head, ignoring the small child besides her. Her sister pressed up closer to her, leaning into Olivia.

           ‘Worried he’s going to think you’re a bigger nutcase than you already are?”

           Tami laughed as she stood, walking around the room. Olivia’s gaze carefully following her.

           “Never got why you like these meetings.” She stepped in front of the therapist, curiously staring at him, “He’s always seemed like an arrogant ass. And creepy.” She shuddered, laughing.

           “What do you see?” With such a simple interruption, Tami was gone again.

           “Nothing.” She reassured, adding a small smile.

           His gaze turned skeptical as he reached for the notebook.

           “A fly.” she blurted out, “I thought there was a fly.”

           He sighed and placed the notebook on the table next to him. Drumming his fingers against his leg, he kept his gaze trained on Olivia. Her leg started to bounce against the floor as she looked everywhere but his piercing eyes.

           A knock at the door saved her. A small face peeked through the crack as Olivia’s nurse peered in.

           “Dr. Marks, I’m here for Olivia.” Her voice soothed Olivia’s nerves.

           Dr. Marks looked down at his watched and waved both away.

           “So, it appears, see you in a couple days Olivia.” His gaze looked over her as she was led out of his office.

           “Jesus, wish they’d give ya a new therapist.” Mrs. Marse said as she closed the door.

           Olivia shrugged. She’d heard about why he’d gotten transferred from some other hospital. Honestly, she neverminded the hot glances or lingering touches. It was one of the few things about this place that made her still feel human.

           “Wow, that’s depressing.” Her sister reappeared besides her.

            Olivia rolled her eyes and kept her gaze focused down the sterile hall. A red head poked around the corner of her vision, blinking up at her.

           “You realize ignoring me won’t make me disappear.”

           “Maybe not but I can try.” She retorted, ignoring her nurses’ side glance.

           “Alright hun, you’ve got about 15 minutes of free-time before dinner.”

           Olivia thanked her before walking through the double doors.

           The room opened to a large rec room. It was filled with the patience that weren’t allowed outside. Those that were also deemed to dangerous for society. Most of them stuck to themselves at the tables or sitting around the couches. All ignored the tv blaring some black and white cartoons.  

           Olivia sat at one of the unoccupied tables, grabbing at some of the papers and crayons that were set out. She had already started drawing the flock of birds when her sister sat next to her.

           “They can’t even give you real pencils?” She questioned as she held up one of the crayons.

           Olivia shrugged in response.

           “They’d rather someone not go all murderer with them.” She answered, filling in her sky.

           “Ah, someone like you then.” Tami smiled before throwing the crayon at her.

           “What the hell Tami?” Olivia reached up to where her cheek was stinging, tears forming in the corner of her eyes.

           She leaned over her chair to pick it up but couldn’t find it. Looking all around her, she returned to the table, where the same purple crayon was sitting in front of her.

           With a sigh she lowered her hand. The sting in her cheek disappearing as quickly as it appeared.

           “You really are a nutcase, aren’t ya.” Tami laughed.

           “You are such a-”

           “Dinner” a nurse called on the opposite side of the room.

           Olivia ignored it and kept coloring in her picture, listening to the scraping of chairs and squeaking of couches as the other patients moved to the nurses.

           “Chris” a nurse confirmed.

           Olivia mocked a checkmark on her paper. She’d seen these routines enough times that she didn’t need to watch. After checking off the name, the nurse would turn to her partner that carried the tray of colorful pills. Then she would pick up the one that matched whichever patient had reached her first. She’d hand them the pills then the cup of water. After watching them swallow both, the nurse would open one of the large double doors and then the cycle would repeat.

           She drew feathers throughout her birds, smiling as she was almost finished with them. Olivia tried to imagine the breeze that would carry her birds throughout their skies. Closing her eye, she tried to picture it. Lying on the grass as kids laughed around her, birds cawing in the sky. Opening her eyes again she realized she was back at her old school. Other students ran around the yard, making up the laughter.

           Spread out around her were her school supplies. She went to pick up her sketchbook when pain blossomed from her side. Grabbing at her side she coughed, trying to catch her breath. Looking around she saw a group of kids pointing and laughing at her, leading that group was her sister Tami.

           She clenched her shaking fists before standing up. Her body shook with each stomp towards the group. When she got there, she couldn’t help the hard shove she gave Tami.

           “Don’t touch me, you freak.” She growled out at her.

           “Quit throwing things at me then.” Olivia yelled back.

Tami’s friends just laughed harder at this exchange.

“Who are you talking to?” one of the friends called out.

“My sister?” she question, thrusting a hand towards Tami.

“I don’t see anyone.” Another friend answered, causing the rest to break out in more giggles.

Tami smirked and placed her hands on her hips.

“See, told you I wasn’t real, nutcase.”

Olivia turned and marched away, shaking her head.

“Your sister is a real bitch.” Her friend, Katie, said to her.

“You see her, too right?” Olivia whispered

Katie wrapped her tanned arms around Olivia, pulling her into a big hug.

“Yeah I do, and someone needs to knock her down a peg too.” Katie said before flipping off the friends behind them.

Olivia jerked out of her memories when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Pill time” the blond nurse said.

She looked around and saw the rec room was completely empty aside from her and the two nurses. Olivia nodded reaching a shaky hand out to the pills and water. After steadying her shaky breath, she downed the pills and water, looking over her sister. Tami was sitting on the table, swinging her legs while snapping crayons.

“Bye Tami.” The goodbye was answered with a chuckle and a middle finger.

Rolling her eyes, Olivia stood and walked into the cafeteria with the nurses.

[stilesderekscottissacandme]

Wolf’s-Bane

*DISCLAIMER* I still don't own Teen wolf but you wanna know what I just saw driving down the road??? A BLUE JEEP!!!!! STILES IS IN MY TOWN GUYS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So apparently Derek told Scott that if he killed the Alpha, Scott wouldn't have this curse anymore. But if Scott isn't a werewolf then what happens to me? We don't know yet. And since we kinda pinned the school thing on Derek, he is a fugitive and we have to help him out. We have been driving his car all night to throw the hunters and cops off and it's working.

"Faster?" Scott yelled as I looked through the back window of the black Camaro.

"Much faster!" Stiles said.

" Hey Scott I don't think you're grasping the concept of car chase here!" I said  as Scott went around a corner. The car behind us was gaining speed as fast if not faster than us.

"If I go any faster, I'll kill us!" He yelled in defense.

"Well if you don't go faster they'll kill us!" I yelled as we picked up a little bit of speed and drifted around the next corner. Stiles turned around and I did too. But there was no one behind us.

"They're gone." I said to Stiles. He looked at me with big eyes full of confusion. Stiles turned on the police radio he stole from his dad.

All units, suspect is on foot headed to the Iron Works. Stiles' dad's voice echoed through the radio speaker. As soon as the words left the speaker I got this bad feeling. Kinda a mix between fear and rage. Derek's in trouble. If the cops haven't found him then the hunters have. My vision started blurring and I couldn't see in front of me. Oh god.. What's going on??

"Guys!! I can't see!" I yelled. But as soon as the words left my mouth my vision cleared. We came to a sudden stop and Derek jumped in the car after I told him to get in. He jumped in, while Mr. Argent shot rapidly at the car. We drove off and the fight began. Stiles had climbed in the backseat with me seconds before Scott opened the passenger door.

"What part of laying low don't you understand?" I yelled at Derek.

"Damn it! I had him!" Derek yelled in defense.

"Who the alpha?" Stiles asked.

"Yes! He was right in front of me until the friggin' police showed up!" Derek yelled.

"Whoa, hey, they're just doing their jobs-" Stiles began. But I cut him off.

"Yeah! Thanks to someone who decided to make him the most wanted fugitive in the state!" I defended. It was only logical that this would interrupt our mission of catching a murderous werewolf.

"Can we seriously get past that?  I made a dumbass mistake! I get it." Scott huffed. I glared at him because he made the impossible even more impossible.

"Alright. How did you find him?" Stiles asked changing the subject.

"Can you try to trust us for at least half a second?" Scott said.

"Yeah! All of us!" Stiles said. Derek and I shot him a death glare and his entire composure changed. "Or just them. I'll be back here." He added after a second.

"Look the last time I talked to my sister, she was close to figuring something out.  She found out two things. The first one was a guy named Harris." Derek said.

"Our chemistry teacher?" I asked.  I had had my head between the two front seats, as uncomfortable as it was, I needed to see them.

"Why him?" Scott added after a second.

"I don't know yet." Derek said. He ran a hand over his face.

"What's the second?" Scott asked.

"Some kind of symbol." Derek said while unfolding a piece of paper. When Scott and I saw the symbol our eyes got really big and we looked at each other. "What? You know what it is?" Derek asked after taking in our similar expressions.

"I've seen it on a necklace." Scott said, he looked a bit confused. So I cleared things up a little bit.

"Allison's necklace." I said.

*Time skip*

"This is gonna be impossible ya know?" Scott said as the three of us walked into the school.

"Why don't you just ask her if you can borrow it?" Stiles asked.

"How?" Scott and I asked at the same time.

"Its easy. You just say: "Hey Allison, can I borrow your necklace to see if there's anything on it or in it that can lead me to an alpha werewolf that I need to kill in order to get  back together with you?"" Stiles said. I shot him a glare and Scott huffed.

"You're not helping." Scott said.

"Why don't you just talk to her?" I suggested.

"She won't talk to me. What if, like, she only takes it off in the shower, or something?" Scott asked.

"That's why you ease-" Stiles began but stopped talking as a group of people walked past us "That's why you ease back into it, okay? Get back on the good side, remind her of the good times. And then you ask for the necklace." Stiles said, but apparently I was the only one listening. I nudged Scott.

"You're thinking about her in the shower, aren't you?" I asked.

"Yeah." Scott said.

"Guys, you realize how terrible of an idea that is right? It could take weeks if not months to patch it up. She thinks you left her for dead, Scott." I said as we continued to walk down the hallway. Stiles and I had first hour together but Scott was in a different class.

"Then, you stay the night with her and.. And ask her to borrow it.That's something girls do right? Tell her you have an outfit it would look good with or something." Stiles said. I thought back to the day that Allison told me her aunt gave it to her. It was for her birthday I think. There is no way that will work..

"I can't do that..I..I've never stayed the night somewhere..." I said as a slight blush crept across my face.

"Alright. Scott, stay focused, okay? Get the necklace, get the alpha, get cured, get Allison.  In that order? Got it?" Stiles pressed as we walked into class.

"Get the necklace." Scott said as we parted ways with him. The first part of the day droned on and on and until the bell finally rang. I started getting this odd feeling in my chest. It was like my chest kept tightening with every breath I took. I knew the feeling, it's the same one you get when you have to lie to someone. I rounded the corner that would lead me to the hall that Scott and I's lockers are but stopped when I reached the final corner.

Get what for you? Scott's confused voice said from around the corner. I focused on is heart as it beat a little faster with each word.

Whatever it is. A bite, a scratch. Sniffing magic fairy dust under the moonlight - I don't care. You're gonna get it for me or uh- She's gonna find out about it too. Jackson said with a casual voice. I heard Scott's heart beat sky rocket and ran around the corner.

"Get the hell out of here Jackson." I said with a dangerous tone.

"It's okay, Freak. I was just leaving." He said as he walked around the corner. I would have been offended if he would have been able to come up with a better insult. Scott and I didn't say anything as we walked to find Stiles.. I filled Stiles in on what happened. Or, well what I heard.

"How the hell did he find out?" Stiles Asked as we walked.

"I have no idea." Scott said.

"Did he say it out loud- the word?" Stiles asked.

"What word?" Scott asked in return.

"Werewolf. Did he say " I know you're a werewolf?" Stiles asked frantically.

"No but he implied it pretty freaking clearly." Scott said.

"Okay, maybe it's not as bad as it seems. I mean, he doesn't have any proof, right? And if he wanted to tell someone, who's gonna believe him anyway?" Stiles asked.

"How about Allison's father?" I asked logically.

"Okay, it's bad." Stiles said as he ran his hands over his mouth and head.

"I need a cure. Right now." Scott sighed.

"Does he know about Mr. Argent?" I asked after thinking for a few seconds. If Jackson knows that Scott's a werewolf, and he wants to be one too, and he knows that Allison's father is a werewolf hunter...God that could get very bad very fast. And considering I still don't know anything  about this whole Guardian thing... I wouldn't be able to protect Scott or anyone else...

"I don't know." Scott answered as all the possibilities ran through my mind.

"Okay, where's Derek?" Stiles asked bringing me back to reality.

"Hiding, like we told him to. Why?" Scott said.

"I have another idea. It's gonna take a little time and fitness, though." Stiles said as he ran his hand from his mouth to the back of his head, the way he does when he's thinking about something, or when he's worried.

"You guys have that game tonight. It's quarterfinals..And it's your first game." I said causing both to look at me.

"I know, I know. Look, do you have a plan for Allison yet?"  Stiles said turning back to Scott.

"She's in our next class." I said, both boys looking back at me.

"Get the necklace."  Stiles said as he walked away. Scott and I turned to each other and walked to our next class. There was a seat open next to Allison and I looked at Scott as his eyes fell on her. She looked uncomfortable as Scott stared at her.  Scott then walked over to take the seat next to her but Lydia slammed her hands on the desk before he could sit down. You could have never guessed that just a week or so ago she had kissed him, with the way her bitch mode was on full blast lately.

"Try another row, sweetheart." She said with that annoying high pitched voice of hers. Scott took the seat behind Lydia leaving me with a seat behind Allison. Oh god..

"Okay, class, let's settle down. Let's get our books out." The teacher said as I dug around in my panda backpack searching for the right notebook.

"Allison." I heard Scott whisper. I didn't look over at him though.

"Hey...Class is beginning." Allison said. I could hear her heart beat slowly rise.

"I know. I'll shut up. I just, um- I have some stuff on my phone that I wanted to send you." Scott no.. " I thought you might like it.." Oh god, Scott, you're already on the wrong path..

"Okay." Allison said. Scott messed around with his phone for a second before Allison's buzzed. I glanced over her shoulder to see that he sent her pictures from when they were still together.. Both of their heart beats rose as she scrolled through them. The teacher had already began the lesson and wasn't even part the way through with the opening lecture before Allison jumped up, on the verge of tears. and left. Followed by Scott. I focused my hearing on they were saying.

Allison.

Why did you send me that? Are you trying to make me feel even worse for breaking up with you?

No. I thought you would like them. I - I thought they would remind you of us.

Are you trying to hurt me- get back at me?

No.

Please don't talk to me. Okay? I need more time to get to just friends. Okay? Please.

I have never heard something that hurt me like that. I could tell that they were both heart broken and hurt. I could sense it. Feel it as though it were my own pain..Does that have something to do with the bond between me and Scott?  Allison is just so sweet and Scott really needs something good in his life right now. Allison is the only one who really seems to make him happy anymore..I wish there was something I could do..

I looked down at my phone and contemplated texting Stiles. I thought about what I should say.

Hey. Didn't work. Only pissed Allison off.  

Damn.

Class went by pretty fast after that and before I knew it I was with Scott and Stiles at our table in the cafeteria.

"So what happened?" Stiles asked after we were all settled down.

"She told me not to talk to her. At all." Scott sighed, I could feel how hurt he was.

"So she's not giving you the necklace-"  Stiles started with food in his mouth but Scott cut him off in annoyance.

"She's not giving me the necklace!" Scott said. Annoyance dripping from his voice, mixed with drops of sadness and mixed with anger.

"Well, did you find anything else out?" Stiles asked after a few seconds.

"Just that I know nothing about girls and that they're psychotic." Scott said, forgetting I was there.

"Well shit. Thanks dude." I muttered causing Scott to look up at me with big eyes.

"Alex, I didn't mean.." Scott said.

"I know. I know.." I said.

"Okay, I came up with a plan "B" just in case anything like this happened." Stiles said changing the subject back to the necklace.

"What's plan "B"?" Scott and I asked.

"Well..Alex, you are not going to like this at all, but I want you to stay the night with Allison. Say it's like a girls night and while she is asleep steal the stupid thing." Stiles said. I felt my eyes grow wider and thought about every worse case scenario that could possibly happen.

"I can't do that!" I said.

"Do you want to help Scott get his life back or not?" Stiles asked. I glanced from Stiles to Scott and couldn't say no. It's not fair that he had to say that. Of course I want to help Scott, but...I've never stayed at someone else's house before.. Well other than Stiles' a few times when I sneaked  out while Mel was at work. We cuddled all night. One time his dad knocked on the door and I had to hide in the closet..But that wasn't the same.. I mean.. I'm not really that good at girling..

"What if she invites Lydia too?" I asked as the idea of spending an entire night with Lydia buzzed through my head giving me a migraine.

"Well..Think of it as a bonding experience." Stiles said with sarcasm.

"Couldn't we try at least getting to Harris?" I asked. I was desperate for a different plan.

"My dad put him on 24 hour protective detail, okay? The necklace is all we got. Steal it. Thank you." Stiles said. I glared at him at the other side of the table.

"Guys, he's watching us." Scott said gesturing to somewhere behind me. I turned around to see Jackson staring at the three of us. I turned back around casually and stared at Stiles.

Scott- you can hear me? You can, can't you? I heard Jackson voice say. Shit..

"What's wrong?" Stiles asked. I glanced at Scott who had to have heard it too. I know he did.

"Jackson's talking to me. He knows I can hear him." Scott said causing Stiles to look over at Jackson. "Look at me. Just talk to me. Act normal. Pretend nothing's happening." Scott said. It was a good plan, but I'm sure we already looked suspicious because we all looked at him.

Are you trying to pretend not to hear me? Jackson said from behind us.

"Say something. Talk to me." Scott said clenching his jaw.

"I can't think of anything. My mind's completely blank." Stiles said. I was dumbfounded. In the entire time I have known this boy he has had something to say.

"Your mind's blank? You can't think of something to say?" I giggled. Stiles just glared at me for a second before talking.

"Not under this kind of pressure. FYI, he's not even sitting with them anymore." Stiles said causing me and Scott to look over to where Lydia and her posse was sitting. We began looking around in each direction trying to find the sack of dicks known as Jackson.

Looking for me, Mcall? I'm right here. So what else can you do? Huh? Can you see better? Are you stronger, more powerful? No, I knew there was no way you suddenly got that good at lacrosse. Which means you're actually a cheater aren't you? I mean, can you even play lacrosse?

"Yes." Scott said through his teeth.

I'll bet my new co-captain's gonna score a bunch of shots tonight, aren't you? And while you're pretending you'e not a lying cheat, I'm gonna ruin your life if you don't give me what I want.Not only will I ruin your life but Stiles' too. And you wanna know how I'm gonna start?  With them. I'm going to destroy any chances either of you'll ever have with them. And when I'm done with that, I'm gonna get them all alone, and  I'm gonna get my hands all over those tight little bodies, one by one.

I could feel my heart beat rising, and I could hear Scott's going up as well. This isn't good at all. And if Jackson really thinks he will ever "get me alone" Then he's dumber than I thought. How the fuck can he even say that? What the fuck is wrong with him? Scott was clenching his tray and his water bottle. He was minutes away from wolfing out right here..If not seconds. I was digging my claws, which were retracted, into my arm. I could feel blood dripping down my arm onto my black jeans.

"Guys, come on, you can't let him do this. You can't let him have this kind of power over you. Okay?" Stiles said. I shot him an ice cold glare.

"Trust me. If you could hear what he is saying you would freak out too okay?" I snapped.

I'm gonna do all the things you guys never got the chance to do, and Scott, they're gonna beg for more. I'll  bet she get's loud. Maybe not your freak of a sister, but Allison. Maybe she's even a screamer. How are you gonna feel, Scott- when she's screaming my name?

Scott snapped his tray in two causing every one in the room to look at us.  and I grabbed napkins and ran to the bathroom.I passed Jackson and he just smiled and i could hear him take a bite out of the apple he'd been eating. My arm was almost healed but not completely. It took a few seconds longer to actually heal, but that's probably because the wounds were pretty deep. As I was sitting on the bathroom sink Allison and Lydia walked in.

"Hey, Alex, are you okay?" Allison said, her voice soft and sweet as usual.

"Oh my god! That's a lot of blood! Are you hurt?" Lydia gasped as she looked at the bloody napkins that were surrounding me.

"Yea.. I'm fine now though. Just a bloody nose." I lied. I mean, I couldn't exactly tell them that Jackson was talking to me..well Scott ..from across the cafeteria.

"Hey what was with Scott?" Allison asked on cue. "He was acting really weird." She said. Lydia nodded.

"Uhh...He's not having the best day..." I said... "Hey..I was wondering.. Do you think we could like...have a girls night or something? I've never stayed at any one's house before...and I guess I just kinda wanna see what it's like having friends that are girls.." I said. I could feel my anxiety bubbling up.

"Wait.. you've never stayed at someone's house before?" Lydia gaped. She turned to Allison with big yes and they nodded in silence.

"Okay. Tonight, sense I'm not going to the game, I'll ask my dad if you and Lydia can stay the night." Allison said. It was a scary thought..Spending the night with 2 girls, as if I were normal. and in the house of the hunters....

"Okay." I said as the final bell rang. We all went to class and the rest of the day consisted of the same boring school stuff. Towards the end of 7th hour Allison texted me.

Hey my dad said you could stay the night, but it turns out we're going to the game as a family I guess. Hope that's okay. -Allison <3

Yeah, that's fine. I don't know if I'll be at the game though.

Why not? Isn't Stiles playing tonight?-Allison <3

Yes, but I have other things I have to do first, and I've never liked how many people are there..But I might show up, Idk yet.

Okay. -Allison <3

*Time skips*

Apparently Jackson left Lydia. I would think it's for the best, I mean, don't get me wrong, Lydia is by far my least favorite person, but no one deserves to be treated the way Jackson treated her. But he only left her so he could fuck around with Scott and Allison. After school Stiles and I went over to his house to hang out a little bit. I was surprised Stiles didn't realize there was someone else in the room when we walked in. Instead he just sat down at his computer and I took a seat on his bed, making eye contact with the other person. He held a finger to his lips as he stood behind the door.

"Hey Stiles!" Sheriff yelled from down the hallway.

"Yo da- Derek?" Stiles said. Derek held his finger to his lips urgently and I covered my mouth. Stiles jumped up and ran to his door, shutting it most of the way to talk to his father.

"What'd you say?" Sheriff asked and Stiles heart beat rose.

"What? I said 'Yo d-dad."

"Listen, I've got something I've got to take care of, but I'm gonna be there tonight., I mean..Your first game." Sheriff said. I heard Stiles heart skip a beat..Wait, he's going to his first game right?

"My first game. Gawh.. It's great.. Awesome. Uh- good." Stiles stuttered.. making me doubt he was really planning on going..

"I'm very happy for you. And I'm really proud."  His dad said. I wonder if my parents would be proud of me...I wonder what it would be like if they were still here.. I glanced at Derek who was leaning against Stiles' dresser. I must have zoned out the rest of the conversation because Stiles walked back in.

"I'm sor- oh!" Stiles began but Derek had pinned him to the door. I jumped ready to defend Stiles if it came down to it.

"If you say one word-" Derek threatened.

"Derek." I growled. I had become very good at shifting. In a matter of seconds my claws were retracted and I was ready to take any measures I needed to, to keep Stiles safe. I was ignored by Derek and Stiles.

"Oh what, you mean, like "Hey, dad, Derek Hale's in my room- bring your gun?"  Yeah, that's right. If I'm harboring your fugitive ass, it's my house, my rules buddy." Stiles said, sarcasm dripping with every word he even finished by smacking Derek's shoulder . Although this clearly irritated Derek, he just let go of Stiles and fixed Stiles' jacket. Stiles did the same and walked past Derek who jumped just a tad bit causing Stiles to let out an 'Oh my god!' I let my claws go back to normal and sat back down.

"Scott didn't get the necklace?" Derek asked as Stiles sat back down in his chair.

"No, Alex is staying the night with Allison tonight and she's going to steal it then." Stiles said, causing me to cringe and Derek to look at me. "But there's something else we can try. The night we were trapped at the school, Scott sent a text to Allison asking her to meet him there." Stiles added.

"So?" Derek asked.

"So it wasn't Scott." I said.

"Well, can you find out who sent it?" Derek asked.

"No, not me. But I think I know somebody who can." Stiles said. He wouldn't tell us who, then Danny walking into the room. I smiled and greeted him as he sat down at Stiles' chair.

"What do you want me to do?" He asked.

"Trace a text." Stiles and I said at the same time.

"I came here to do lab work. That's what lab partners do." Danny huffed. Wait, so Stiles really didn't inform him why he was here... wow.

"And we will, once you trace the text." Stiles said.

"And what makes you think I know how?" Danny asked.

"I- I looked up your arrest report, soo-" Stiles said. He didn't.. Oh my god.

"I - I was 13. They dropped the charges." Danny defended.

"Whatever." I said.

"No, we're doing lab work." Danny said. Derek huffed in annoyance and Danny turned around to look at him. I saw his eyes get a little bit bigger.

"Oh my-" Stiles started,

"Who's he again?" Danny said as he looked Derek up and down. I could sense that this made Derek feel a little bit uncomfortable.

"Uhhh.." Stiles said, I don't think he could come up with anything to say so I decided to lie for him.

"He's my cousin..Miguel." I lied. Danny, Stiles, and Derek all looked at me and I just shrugged.

"Is that blood on his shirt?" Danny asked. My eyes snapped back to Derek's shirt, and there indeed was blood on his shirt. Just a little bit though.

"Yea. Yes. Well, he gets these horrible nosebleeds. Hey, Miguel. I thought I told you, you could borrow on of my shirts." Stiles said turning back to the computer. "So anyway, I mean, we both know you have the skills to trace that text, so we should probably-" Stiles was cut off by Derek.

"Uh, Stiles?" We all turned to see Derek, shirtless, holding one of Stiles' shirts. I had to stifle a giggle as Danny's eyes got even bigger than before.

"Yes?" Stiles asked impatiently.

"This - no fit." Derek said stretching out the small shirt in his hands.

"Then try  something else on. Sorry." Stiles said turning back to Danny and the computer. He looked at Danny and his entire attitude changed. He saw Danny checking out Derek..I started giggling when we turned back to Derek who was putting on a orange and blue stripped shirt. He looked pissed. "Hey, that one looks pretty good, huh? What do you think, Danny? The shirt." Stiles said.

"It's- it's not really his color." Danny said. I couldn't help but agree.

"You swing for a different team, but you still play ball don't you, Danny boy." Stiles said. It made the entire room uncomfortable.

"You're a horrible person." Danny said, breaking the silence.

"I know. It keeps me awake at night. Anyways, about that text." Stiles said, adverting his attention to the computer again.

"Stiles! None of these fit!" Derek all but yelled. Oh god... I know why Stiles did that...Seeing Derek shirtless would make Danny wanna help. Genius.

"I'll need the ISP, the phone number, and the exact time of the text." Danny said. Stiles typed in given information and Danny did the rest. While Derek looked as miserable as ever. I flopped back down on the bed and continued watching Supernatural on my phone.

"There. The text was sent from a computer. This one." Danny said. I stood up and walked over to the computer the boys were sitting at. Derek was already standing behind them. Both of my hands came up to my mouth and my eyes bulged as I read the name on the screen.  

"Registered to that account name?" Derek asked.

"No,no, no, no. That can't be right." Stiles said. I read the name a few more times, trying to make sure I wasn't seeing it wrong. But sure enough the account was registered to a computer at the Hospital. Melissa McCall. I read it over and over and over, hoping it would change. But it didn't.

*Time skip*

I got a text a few seconds after Stile's phone buzzed. It was a picture text from Scott, it said he got the necklace. But I knew I still had to stay with Allison tonight, because it would be kinda weird and rude to call it off.

Did you get the picture?

"Yeah, I did, and it looks just like the drawing."  Stiles replied to Scott who was on the other side of the phone's speaker.  Derek took the phone from Stiles while I leaned in between the driver's seat and passenger seat of Stiles' jeep. He was holding Stiles' arm in an awkward position.

"Hey, is there something on the back of it? There's gotta be something. An inscription, an opening, something." Derek said. I strained my ears to hear Scott's reply.

No, no, the thing's flat. And, no, it doesn't open. There's nothing in it, on it, around it, nothing.  And where are you? You're supposed to be here. You're first line. Scott said and as if on cue the coach was heard in the background.

Where the hell is Billinski?

Man, you're not gonna play if you're not here to start. Scott said, as if lacrosse was a priority right now.

"I know. Look, if you see my dad, can you tell him - tell him I'll be there, I'll just be a little bit late, okay? Alright, thanks." Stiles said before he hung up the phone.

"You're not gonna make it." Derek said.

"I know.." Stiles sighed.

"And you didn't tell him about Mel, either." I said causing Stiles heart to pick up.

"Not until we find out the truth." He said. I understood where he was coming from.. I was extremely shocked when I saw her name on that screen. I was maybe even in denial.

"By the way, one more thing." Derek said sparking confusion in me.

"Yeah.  Oh god!" Stiles yelped as Derek bounced his head of the steering wheel.

"What the hell was that!" I yelled as I pressed my hand to Stiles' forehead.

"You know what that was for. Go. Go!" Derek ushered us out of the small jeep. Stiles had to help me get out from the back seat, as he always does. We made our way into the hospital. I didn't quite understand the plan but I'm sure Stiles' did. After following Stiles around he told me to call Derek.

"Yeah, I said we can't find her." I said to Derek after telling him what Stiles said.

"Look, ask for Jennifer. She's been looking after my uncle." Derek said as Stiles and I stood in front of the room that his uncle was supposed to be in. The same room that I wondered into, what seemed like an eternity ago.. The day Scott sneaked into the morgue to find the body..

"Yeah, well, he's not here either." I said.

"What?" Derek said in a shocked voice..

"He's not here. He's gone, Derek." I said.

"Alex, get out of there right now! It's him! He's the alpha! Get out!" Derek yelled urgently into the phone. Everything changed. I grabbed Stiles and tried to leave but it was too late.

"You must be Stiles. And, Oh! Alex, it is so good to see you again." The man that was in the wheel chair that day, the one with the scars covering his face..Peter Hale..Derek's uncle..Who was now standing before us..

"What are you doing here? Visiting hours are over!" The nurse known as Jennifer said. Then the realization donned on me.

"You- and him. You're- you're the one who- oh, my- and he's. Oh my god, we're gonna die." Stiles said as he put it all together. I heard another heart beat and Stiles and I looked over as Derek elbowed Jennifer in the face causing her to drop to the ground.

"That's not very nice. She's my nurse." Peter said in a mocking voice.

"She's a psychotic bitch helping you kill people. Get out of the way." Derek said as he wolfed out.

"Oh, damn." Stiles muttered as we dropped to the ground and scooted up as close to the wall as we could. Derek's eyes flashed as he charged Peter. He jumped off a wall and went to attack Peter, but he was countered by Peter throwing him into a different wall. Stiles laced his fingers into mine and I tried to calm down. It was no use.

"Stiles go." I whispered as I shifted. I jumped up as Stiles crawled away. I went to attack Peter from behind but he simply threw me from one wall to another until I fell, defenselessly on to the ground. He went back to Derek.   I stealthily made another attack. I punched him in the ribs but he just threw me to the ground. I decided I couldn't help so I went back to Stiles.

"You think I killed Laura on purpose? One of my own family? My mind, my personality were literally burned out of me. I was being driven by pure instinct." Peter said as dragged Derek to where Jennifer was laying. He dropped Derek and dug around in her pocket, as she lay, passed out on the floor. He got a key from her and put it in his own pocket.

"You want forgiveness?" Derek hissed as he punched him in the face. He went to hit him again but Peter simply grabbed his jacket and headbutted Derek in the face.

"I want understanding." Peter said as he kicked Derek a few feet back. "Do you have any idea- what it was like for me during those years? Slowly healing, cell by cell. Even more slowly coming back to consciousness. Yes, becoming an alpha, taking that from Laura pushed me over a plateau in the healing process. I can't help that. I tried telling you what was happening. I tried to warn you." Peter said. He had countered another one of Derek's attack's by breaking his hand, and throwing him through the nurse's station thing..

"I was going to wait, for dramatic flair -but- when you look this good, why wait?" I heard Peter say. "Derek , you have to give me a chance to explain. After all, we're family." Peter said turning his attention back to Derek. Derek had crawled in to a different room and Peter was now dragging him out back to where Stiles and I were. He walked right up to us and dropped Derek at our feet.

"Now, Alex, I would like to formally introduce myself. You probably don't remember me. Go back a few years, to the night your family was murdered. The night you were bitten." Peter said as he stared down at me. I felt everything in my body change..It was him he killed them. He bit me. He ruined my life.

"But..How?" I cried.

"Oh..There were rumors that there was a Guardian out there by the name of Alex Blackridge. I hunted you down and well... you dropped out of my line of site for a few years. That is until I found the people who had kidnapped you. I am the one who shot those holes into the walls that night. I am the one who freed you. I am the one who bit you. And before you ask me why I did it I will tell you. I knew that someone was planning something from, per say, other rumors. I knew that it was going to end bloody, and I knew that you would be of great use to me, dear Alex. You are the only thing that can finish the healing process." Peter said. His words changed every aspect of my life.

"no..I won't. You ruined everything!" I yelled, before i knew what was going on I shifted.

"Oh but, darling, you will." He said as he stepped over Derek's unconscious body.

"Don't touch her!" Stiles yelled. But it was too late, I was being hoisted into the air, by my throat. My feet weren't touching the floor and it was becoming harder and harder to breathe. As soon as I shifted back Peter grabbed my left hand and let go of my throat. He then grabbed my right hand as well, dangling me in the air by only my arms. I felt him press both of my hands to either side f his face. I felt the pain of fire and the weakness that accompanied healing surge through my body. I screamed the entire time, until I was tossed helplessly onto the floor. I started twitching and my entire body went completely numb.  

[clubofinfo]

Expert: Human Evolution of the Mind Is Like a Hind Teat on a Texas Bull… Here we are witnessing The Great Collective Amnesia of the Western World…. The great Forgetting, from the political crass class (total), intellectual wanderers (not all, but mostly all) and the general public (most, and these huge blocks against intelligence follow from generation to next generation with a fluidity equal to the amount of information – mostly junk – exponentially increasing on the world wide web and the number eye gazes at the weekly sales worldwide a la eBay, Amazon.dot.steal and any other number of aggregators and on-line scams) is like bubonic clouds in our industrial and post-industrial nations’ cortexes. The lack of intelligence is deep, to include all those drone makers, the data collectors, the A.I. freaks, the robotics innovators (AKA, people killers), the war makers, the profiteers of toxicity, and any other shill in the giant Facebook-Mass Suicide (intellect) Media Kingdom with their legions of grovelers in their armies of financial and investment classes. Forget History and Forego Other Peoples. This lack of humanness, which is defined by forced and accepted agnotology – large portions of the human fabric and the positive human condition propagandized into complete lies or chopped into meaningless vestiges, remnants of a complete whole – makes daily the thrust of thinking and saying in this country almost like peering into the looking glass. Confusion and anti-thought, anti-knowing. Thus, the deadening of intellect, atrophying of those so-called smarts, that is, as we hear and see from those Hollywood and Wall Street scum deeming what is and is not smart which includes anyone displaying electronic-coding-algorithmic skills or tinkering or hedge funding acumen, whatever modern business groper brings to the table. They are vapid, lacking true intellect which has always been tied to understanding history and knowing what is right and how to wrest control from the wrong-doers, and, of course, understanding the world, from sea to shining seabed, to lost tribe of Ecuador, to every beetle yet cataloged by science and shaman kind. The depth of stupidity and genuflecting to all-encompassing consumption (suicide) is astounding in its coverage and voracity. It’s a total great collective forgetting that is both serendipitous and planned, and our dementia has created untenable damage to the rest of the globe. Call it Stockholm Syndrome tied to our murderers’ well-being, their own sustainability while we frog-march into oblivion death marches. We just cannot keep from fawning and vaunting corporations and chemical eaters, war mongers, money cachetting freaks, living off the flesh of humanity. This is US, us-ay, USA, this overvalued by every measure exceptionalist country of the so-called tuned-in, wired-up, and dialed-in leaders of the Western World. Our collective raping and then impregnating the rest of the world with Disneyfication stupidity, and then riding that ol’ train a slow time comin’, but rest assuredly comin’ to all corners of the globe with the splash-splash of glaciers Humpty-Dumpty-ing into their own march to catastrophe, oblivion –this DEFINES us, USA! You Shit Here, Piss Here, Dump Your Dump Your Carcinogenic Offal Here . . . And We Get to the Now Generations! The gut reaction and media devolution around probably one of the most coalescing written pieces in the past few years on climate change-global catastrophe caused by humans polluting the planet with cooked up fossil fuels and the various feedback loops of methane releases and the reflectivity (albedo effect) of the earth’s surface going negative (our land masses and oceans sponges for heat, now) are in real time despicable. The flinging shit and mud against the writer and his written facts and projections are now embedded in the very nature of how humanity in this western dystopian paradise of constant growth (with entropy quickly back-filling that sickness) puts the he and the her and the they smack in the middle of creation, which is the middle of destruction. The amount of ire, hate, and condemnation tied to his thinking and pseudo marketing-psychology-rhetoric vilifying the piece by David Wallace-Wells (“The Uninhabitable Earth,” New York Magazine, 7/9/2017) is reflective of the insipid quality of thinking that has come to define the consumer-capitalist-predator investing/divesting society we have shaped and embraced for more than 60 years. This piece by Wallace-Wells has garnered absurd critiques in the so-called liberal-left greenie press, and the mainstream disastrous press, the pseudo journalism of the big great and digital kings on the east Coast vying for a new Zion in every nook and cranny of the bankster world. The usual libertarian and conservative suspects are trying to burn Wallace-Wells at the stake, for sure, since his article compiles thousands upon thousands of researchers’ work – that is, evidence and prognostications based on those many webs of writing about the research on climate change (which is a catch-all phrase for global warming, weather destabilization, climate uncertainty, geo-engineering, greenhouse gas expulsion through fossil fuel burning and the various parallel defamation of the earth mostly through deforestation and hyper urbanization/ consumption/over-population of Homo Erectus/ Sapiens/ Consumopithecus). Do we need a list of those thinkers and doers years ago who predicted the outcome of the despoiled commons and over-impregnating Homo Sapiens eating the edges and now the center of all the other species, who, in a quick nod, have so-so much to give than a billion “I Wanna Be A Star” cretins who can’t wait for the next and the next bloody mess viewable in the next Netflix world of lies. The subtitle of the piece, “Famine, economic collapse, a sun that cooks us: What climate change could wreak — sooner than you think,” has bristled the hackles of the me-myself-and-I bros and sisters, all from the various stripes of the political quagmire. Imagine, truth to power, truth to stupidity, truth against the prevailing Cellophane-wrapped essence of nano-particle humanity. Then the greenies start shedding their thin epidermis of green-o-atic colors to show the real flavor of their existence – eating cool, living cooler and propping up everything that is American. I’ve heard crap from Grist and so many other naysayers splaying (attempting, though) David Wallace-Wells’ thinking; many parts of the many numbers of NGO-like, non-profit “looking” environmental concerns (most are money-making harbors of war-loving, capitalism S & M driving nuts who love Hillary or even think Bernie is twenty-two degrees removed from the party he ran under) think going truthful and objective with the reality of the many dynamics tied to climate disruption which Wallace-Wells does, is worse than being a denier, than a Pence or Trump or any color of them ruling DC and the palaces of the stupids. I’ve been listening to our local Pacifica Station, KBOO-Portland, and today (7/19/17), on one show, Robert Hunziker, who wrote a piece, “Unhabitable Earth?” over at Dissident Voice talked about Wallace-Wells’ piece with Paul Roland, and, Hunziker is more or less right on, spot on, agreeing (to a degree, though) with the predictions and creative thought experiment David Wallace-Wells unfolds in a very prescient piece. Hunziker still has qualifiers, as is the style of the day – you know, us digital kings and writers having so much more with it and together than the real hard researchers and satirists. You have to give it to the ameliorating masses in the liberal class, the so-called environmentalists, and the shills that play this marketing/narrative framing/meme-ing game, saying that “too harsh a picture on the global negative implications of climate disaster can cause people to turn off and do nothing . . . scare them into paralysis . . . push them back to the all-you-can-eat/buy/consume/burn/immolate /dump/throw-away ways.” Yep, the so-called environmental b.s.-pushers, the majority of which are happy campers in their Subaru-tooling, Prius-loving, eco-capitalist REI lovefest, go on hyper-drive attack of this man’s well-reasoned and fabulously important piece of climate change writing. Hunziker and Roland on KBOO talked it out, about the Wallace-Wells piece, and the fallout. The call-in folk, well, they have so-so much mixed-up hope, and some cited Bill Gates as savior (those corporate Nazi saviors, don’t you know), or others talking geoengineering, you know, iron shavings by the millions of metric tons, dumped into the oceans, to, as most readers know, human engineer the planet to absorb CO2 – **“Iron fertilization is the intentional introduction of iron fines to iron-poor areas of the ocean surface to stimulate phytoplankton production. This is intended to enhance biological productivity and/or accelerate carbon dioxide (CO2) sequestration from the atmosphere.” ** The absurdity of this human ecocide on the oceans is telling, very telling. How we are living in our own shit and waste, tailings from the crimes of resource theft, the burning and slag piles smoking and curing our unborn, the stripped soils and exploded mountains beautiful images of earth gas chamber, diverted rivers to bred desertification, chemicalized water systems to cause death and migration, the entire mess of genetic engineering ready to latch onto the gene codes of the earth eaters, so perfectly captured in macrocosm with the example of salmon crossed at the DNA level with fat ass bass, and penned by the hundreds of thousands forced to eat soy and chicken entrails tablets. One good fishy example of humanity’s human shit and total species hate makes for emblematic ways to really show how warped a species we are. The ever-increasing Franken-fish/Franken-food/Franken-people experiments funded by tax monies, pushed by the controllers, yet average Joe and Jane Blow think this is the new normal. Then we have confused Rachel Maddows and Al Gores and the lot of them on their Van Jones high horses, empty of intelligence, blasphemers of the precautionary principle, small-minded and closed-headed people who look at a climate change article (which should be a triple-clarion call out) with real mettle, real predictions, not only poo-pooing it, but downright eviscerating the facts in order to play some full-of-shit narrative framing, shit, a la Freud and Bernays and Madison Avenue Zionist slave to consumerism shit. How much shit makes hubris and delusion capitalism? Imagine, the pencil necks at Grist (“Stop Scaring People About Climate Change: It Doesn’t Work”) attacking the reality, calling this man to task, for his look inside and outside at the real and unfolding possibilities of this that’s world a comin’, like a fast freight train a thousand miles long with every species ready for the Mother of All Dachaus — every species but that lying, raping, murdering, polluting, insane, blubbery, superstitious, vapid, inelegant Hominoid of modern atrocities. These people, advertising-seeking, for sure, and vetted by that political and non-profit enviro class so easily despised for their hypocrisy, they are grandstanding saying scaring doesn’t work? What sort of Wallace-Wells work is this writer leaning on, or wanting? It’s not his job to get people to revolt, overthrow, throw down, end the entire shooting match. “Quit scaring people” is so-so telling of the liberal class who gives shit about the illegal wars, the massive murders of millions by this empire, the massive deportations, massive destabilizations, massive inequities within their own shores. Almost anything coming out of their people’s cloud-digital-print asses is worth less than that one political orifice’s total value. Sanity Found Not Between the Lines, but in the Alarms and Emergency Sirens Apparent in the Words To give us a bit more to chew on without replicating the piece, here, the sectional titles of Wallace-Wells’ article: I. ‘Doomsday’ — Peering beyond scientific reticence. II. Heat Death — The bahraining of New York. III. The End of Food — Praying for cornfields in the tundra. IV. Climate Plagues –What happens when the bubonic ice melts? V. Unbreathable Air — A rolling death smog that suffocates millions. VI. Perpetual War  — The violence baked into heat. VII. Permanent Economic Collapse  — Dismal capitalism in a half-poorer world. VIII. Poisoned Oceans — Sulfide burps off the skeleton coast. IX. The Great Filter — Our present eeriness cannot last. Even the climate change piece looks at the rotten form that is capitalism, and the great day trading of the commons, the willingness of man to barter for more money with the future commons of ancestral havens. We’re talking war, too, rarely mentioned by greenies. War is the power, the engine, of greed, destabilization, the end of food, the lack of preparedness for everyone to adapt and adjust to the impending collapsed societies. Wallace-Wells nails it. Then, look at these opposing points of view, sick, really, spewing liberal elites with their pedigrees, whatever that means in this sell-out science landscape: “Doomsday Scenarios Are as Harmful as Climate Change Denial” By Michael E. Mann, Susan Joy Hassol and Tom Toles Analysis of “The Uninhabitable Earth” Published in New York Magazine, by David Wallace-Wells on 9 July 2017: Sixteen scientists (all male, all White/Christian/Jewish) analyzed (attacked) the article and estimated its overall scientific (what is this, really, in a sell-out world of science for their own profits) credibility to be ‘low’. (yet more mumbo-jumbo from the science arena). A majority of reviewers tagged the article as: Alarmist, Imprecise/Unclear, Misleading. This grouping of puke scientists, who we all must bow to, don’t you know, with their Ivy-League and powerhouse Stanford and Big 20 university laurels, well, they are vapid, untenable when you think about their own contexts – first world, elite, white, privileged, ivory towered, and never grasping the reality of an uneven world for not only their fellow billions, but for the entirety of the wild world. Hmm, the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences has been reporting a huge loss of population in thousands of vertebrate species. Researchers have studied 27,600 species of birds, amphibians, mammals and reptiles, finding huge losses in over 8,000 species. The animal species are not yet technically extinct, but the loss of numbers is severe enough to collapse breeding, viability, and their own roles in their eco-webs, let alone their own rights to exist on this planet. The findings mean that billions of animal populations that once roamed the Earth are now gone. This is the great Sixth Great Extinction of animal species caused by climate change and loss of habitat – all perpetrated by Man and Woman and “they”. “The sixth mass extinction is already here and the window for effective action is very short.” Kieran Suckling, executive director of the Center for Biological Diversity, continues: “If we continue the trend we’re on, we’re going to be looking at 50 to 75 percent of our species lost over the next hundred years.” Here’s what the capitalism-adoring Atlantic magazine says of the work of Wallace-Wells: It’s into that morass that this week’s New York magazine walks. In a widely shared article, David Wallace-Wells sketches the bleakest possible scenario for global warming. He warns of a planet so awash in greenhouse gas that Brooklyn’s heat waves will rival Bahrain’s. The breadbaskets of China and the United States will enter a debilitating and everlasting drought, he says. And millions of brains will so lack oxygen that they’ll slip into a carbon-induced confusion. Unless we take aggressive action, “parts of the Earth will likely become close to uninhabitable, and other parts horrifically inhospitable, as soon as the end of this century,” he writes. “No matter how well-informed you are, you are surely not alarmed enough.” It’s a scary vision—which is okay, because climate change is scary. It is also an unusually specific and severe depiction of what global warming will do to the planet. And though Wallace-Wells makes it clear that he’s not predicting the future, only trying to spin out the consequences of the best available science today, it’s fair to ask: Is it realistic? Will this heat-wracked doomsday come to pass? Many climate scientists and professional science communicators say no. Wallace-Wells’s article, they say, often flies beyond the realm of what researchers think is likely. I have to agree with them. This is the tribe of elites, the publishing mainliners, the gatekeepers, controllers, the myopics and the critics of anything outside their own narrative frames – America good, or inherently good and all-knowing, all-solving, leaders of the world and technology and in ideas. Words like scary and vision and morass, oh, those wordsmiths, oh those literary kingpins of the big East Coast tribe. Humanity’s chosen people, these publishers and writers and editors and pundits and cultural icons. Here, from Wallace-Wells in an updated and annotated version of his piece: Since the article was published, we have made four corrections and adjustments, which are noted in the annotations (as well as at the end of the original version). They are all minor, and none affects the central project of the story: to apply the best science we have today to the median and high-end ‘business-as-usual’ warming projections produced by the U.N.’s ‘gold standard’ Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change. But the debate this article has kicked up is less about specific facts than the article’s overarching conceit. Is it helpful, or journalistically ethical, to explore the worst-case scenarios of climate change, however unlikely they are? How much should a writer contextualize scary possibilities with information about how probable those outcomes are, however speculative those probabilities may be? What are the risks of terrifying or depressing readers so much they disengage from the issue, and what should a journalist make of those risks? The End Game is Capitalism-Delusional Thinking-Soylent Green is People! Now, let’s get really real. How many minds were talking about no-growth, steady-state economics, the three e’s of sustainability (environment, equity, economy, in that fucking order!), small is better, de-industrializing, eco-socialism, and on and bloody on? Forget Muir, or Pinchot or Stegner or Rachel Carson or Mumford or Kunslter or Jane Jacobs or any number of proponents of fair and environmentally gauged communities. One part Wallace-Wells, another part, hmm, Derrick Jensen? While we face ‘hard choices’ about which species and ecosystems to conserve, it’s odd how we face no such quandaries over which of our frivolous luxuries to refrain from, or what murderous weapons system not to build, writes Derrick Jensen. This look at the hard choices of species and ecosystems, over pornography, sweat-shop clothes, next generation iPhones, animal-shit coffee, Ikea lasting six months, endless cruises and buffets, disposable internal combustion vehicles, jets and satellites and drones and backyard pools and chemical trails circling the globe and, well, you know what humanity is not willing to sacrifice! Sure, we’re supposed to choose whether to extirpate or save Bulmer’s fruit bats or Sumatran Rhinos, wild yams or hula painted frogs (with the default always being extirpate, of course); and we’re supposed to make careful delineations of how we choose who is exterminated, and who lives (at least until tomorrow, when we all know there’ll be another round of exterminations, complete with another round of wringing our hands over how difficult these decisions are, and another round of heartbreak; and then another round, and another, until there is nothing and no one left). But just as after Fukushima a Japanese energy minister said that nuclear energy must continue to be produced because no one “could imagine life without electricity”, so, too, entirely disallowed is any discussion of what technologies should be kept and what should be caused to go extinct. There’s no discussion of extirpating iPads, iPhones, computer technologies, retractable stadium roofs, insecticides, GMOs, the Internet (hell, Internet pornography), off-road vehicles, nuclear weapons, predator drones, industrial agriculture, industrial electricity, industrial production, the benefits of imperialism (human, American, or otherwise). That’s the rub, every single SOV day (single occupancy vehicle). I can’t even help my homeless and beaten-down young foster kids without being forced to drive miles upon miles and meet them at the quintessential rot gut everything that is bad about society Starbucks, because that’s company policy. I drive in a rural area near Oregon City, Estacada, and daily, the number of sacrifices on the road, AKA road kill, is in the dozens. Daily. We cut and maul and pave over and build over and divert and seed with invasives, and daily, hourly, each minute, on this planet, not one shit product or idea or lifestyle is sacrificed, but each and every square inch of soil and cubic meter of river and 2000 foot of altitude is raped and re-raped. By us, the supremacists. The dunces. The ones sitting, lying and sleeping in our own shit, using the cadavers of the real world – ecology, environment – as our rationale for putting us at the top of the dung heap. The murder of the planet is not some tragedy ordained by fate because we’re too damn smart. It is the result of a series of extremely bad social choices. We could choose differently. But we don’t. And we won’t. Not so long as the same unquestioned beliefs run the culture. Don’t get me wrong. Anyone who is working to protect wild places or wild beings from this omnicidal culture is in that sense a hero. We need to use every tool possible to save whomever and wherever we can from this culture. But it’s ridiculous and all-too-expected that while there’s always plenty of money to destroy the Tongass and every other forest, and there’s always plenty of money for various weapons of mass destruction (such as cluster bombs or dams or corporations) somehow when it comes to saving wild places and wild beings, we have to pinch pennies and ‘make difficult decisions’. Also, I need to say that the whole Ark metaphor doesn’t work. In the original story, God saved two of every species (as He, like the humans who created Him, destroyed the planet). Here, modern humans are going where even God didn’t tread, and explicitly not saving every species, but instead deciding which species to save, and which species to kill off. This is, of course, both pleasing and flattering to human supremacists: they’re making decisions on questions even God punted. How cool is that? http://clubof.info/