#I love my friends but holy fuck the amount of times they’re late is driving me insane

[mrd-gvf]

I hate it when I’m about to go out and my parents always pick the worst movie to watch because I’m supposedly leaving soon (as in they pick a movie that I wouldn’t want to watch) but my friends take forever to pick me up and I end watching like half of the movie

[pascalpanic]

Drunk Words (Frankie Catfish Morales x f!Reader)

Drunk Words / Sober Thoughts part one of two

Summary: Frankie’s drunk off his ass and needs a ride home. PART ONE of a two part Frankie fic

W/C: 2.7k+

Warnings: language, copious amounts of alcohol, Frankie is absolutely shitfaced

A/N: THANK U TO MY BABE @sanchosammy for this idea!!! I love it so much I fuckin LOVE my baby frankie

As you roll over in bed, you groan. You’ve been up for about 20 minutes now, unable to return to the blissful sleep that had been enveloping you before. The time on your watch now reads 3:07. You frown and grab your phone, lying on your side. The light is bright enough to make you squint, and you smile at the text thread you’ve received from Frankie tonight.

The man brings nothing but happiness to your life. You really do love Frankie, not just platonically. You want to hold his big and strong hands, want to lift up his ball cap and kiss him on the forehead, want to fluff the hat hair he always gets from that Standard Oil cap. More than anything, you want to softly kiss that little patch in his beard. It’s just existing there, perfectly clean even when he’s almost at a full beard. His tough fingers scratch it and you giggle, looking away when he asks what’s so funny. Nothing, Fish, you immediately reply. Fishie, if you’re feeling a little more flirtatious.

Frankie might be feeling the same, you’ve noticed lately. He’s a little more touchy with you. He hugs you longer than the other men, makes you dance with him when a good song comes on. He lets it happen when you steal his ball cap and wear it, where he’d scold and smack any of the other men for it. He lends you his flannel when you’re cold, wrapping it gingerly around your shoulders.

It’s been a long time that you’ve been friends now. Just recently, you’ve come to appreciate him differently. The way he hugs you warms your heart still, but it makes your heart race and your hands sweat. It makes you want to lift your face from where it rests in his neck and kiss him softly, your fingers working into that little bald patch on his jaw.

Even now, as he’s clearly drunk, you adore him. How can you not?

Frankie 🚁: attachment: one image

You open the photo and laugh. It’s a blurry selfie of Frankie, an arm draped over Santiago’s shoulders. The two men make faces like they’re going to bite the other, and it makes you chuckle aloud. You can see his fluffy curls peeking out from beneath the cap, and you desperately want to play with them. The image is blurry, showing that it must’ve been moving while he took it.

Frankie 🚁: missing u tonight, Santiago says he doesn’t like me when you’re not around

Frankie 🚁: holy fuck their new beer is really good, you gotta try it soon

Frankie 🚁: lol I fuckin love the nachos here

Frankie 🚁: snati is so annoying, pls get him away from me

Frankie 🚁: u r probably sleep sorry :((((

Frankie 🚁: can we got o a zoo soon?? I wanna see animals 🦫🐈🐕‍🦺🦡

You laugh out loud at the words, at Frankie’s terrible typing. He must be shitfaced. He’s hilarious when he’s drunk.

The last text was only four minutes ago.

Me: Alright, Fishie. Stop drinking and eat something. No more beer.

Frankie 🚁: ha I’m drinking that Coffey shit… Kalua?? isk but it’s so gooood

Your phone rings, filling the screen with your profile picture of Frankie. It’s a photo of him smiling, his dimple evident. Your cheek is pressed to his, grinning just as wide. God, he’s so fucking cute. You love him so much.

You take a second and stare at the photo before pressing the answer button and putting it on speaker. “Hey, Fish.”

“Hey,” he laughs, dragging the word out long and slow. “S’a shame you weren’t here, Will’s been buying all night.” His words are slurred and woozy. You can hear the roar of the bar behind him.

“Ah, so that’s why you’re shitfaced,” you laugh into the phone.

“Precisely,” he slurs, a smile clear in his voice. “I can’t drive.”

“I’m glad you realize that. What do you want me to do about that? I can have an Uber coming your way in ten minutes.”

“Will you pick me up?” He asks, his voice like a child’s. “Fuckin’ Ubers cost money, ‘n I just wanna see your pretty face.”

“Frankie,” you warn but feel your body warm at the notion.

“You got a cute little nose,” he laughs. “Just wanna boop it. Can I boop it? Just go… boop, boop boop. Right on the nose.”

You sigh. “Fine. I’ll be there in twenty minutes. You’re so fucking lucky I think you’re cute.”

“Thank you,” he practically sings. “See you then. Mwah.”

You throw on a hoodie and walk to your car, not caring to cover up your patterned flannel shorts that you sleep in. Your hair is messy, you don’t have makeup on, you don’t really give a shit. It’s Frankie.

Once you reach the bar, you shoot him a text, and the four men stumble outside. “Yo!” Benny calls and rushes over to you. It’s clear his normal balance has left his body for the night, his body a little wobbly. He’s an excited drunk. He slams on your window until you lower it. “Hey, you missed out on a good time,” he grins. His words blur together too.

Frankie follows behind him, an arm thrown across him. He’s still got a little balance. “Missed you so much, cariño. Santi’s being an ass.”

You look up at Will. “These fuckers need a ride too?” He’s the responsible one of the men, even when intoxicated.

He shakes his head. “Got an Uber coming. They’re staying at my place tonight.”

Frankie puts a hand on the car to steady himself. “Knew you’d come. Pretty girl always comes through for me, even at 3 A.M., thank you,” he slurs happily, his eyes half open.

Santiago leans against your car. “Hey gorgeous. We missed you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you roll your eyes. “Get the grizzly bear in the car.”

Frankie laughs at the words. “Ooh, I like that. Big and fluffy but murderous.”

“I’m about to get murderous if you don’t get in the car right now, Francisco Morales.”

“Oh, snap!”

“Shit, man.”

Benny gives a whistle. The men all make noises in commentary and laugh, Will opening the door. Frankie flops down inside. Benny ensures that all of his limbs have made it in and shuts the door. “Don’t party too hard with him tonight,” Santiago calls and you roll your eyes.

The two of you drive off and out of the bar parking lot.

“Hey, Fish,” you say, snapping your fingers in front of his face. “Buckle up. I’m not getting in trouble for your dumb ass.”

“You always do, though,” he mumbles and tilts his head to look at you. “You’re so good to me.”

“I’m a fucking saint,” you sigh sarcastically. “Seriously, buckle up. If you can’t do it yourself, we’re going to the ER for alcohol poisoning.”

“No,” he whines and pouts at you. “Just wanna be close to you. Wanna just…” he trails off and rests his head against your shoulder. “Mm. There. Your skin is so soft.”

“That’s my hoodie, Frankie.”

He takes a deep breath in through his nose, the scent clicking in his addled brain. “No, that’s my hoodie.”

He’s right, you realize. You grabbed a random sweatshirt and pulled it on before leaving. You’re the one who’s always cold at gatherings, leaving Frankie to share one of his many layers with you. You smile a bit. “It’s comfy.”

“I like it better on you. I really like you in my clothes, you know that? Wear them way better than I can. You just look so cute and so little.”

“Frankie, I’m 5’9,” you refute and glare down at him, where he looks up at you with puppy-dog mocha-colored eyes.

“Just look so small in ‘em. I’m like 6’0, you know that.”

“I do know that, Francisco. You remind us all the time,” you laugh, removing his ball cap and tossing it into his lap. “Still shorter than Benny. Get that hat off and I think you’re shorter than Santi.”

“I’m taller than him,” Frankie whines at the reminder. “How come Benny’s the baby and he’s so tall? He’s like a fuckin’ giraffe up there, can never see his stupid face,” he pouts.

“He’s too tall for comfortable hugs,” you nod in agreement. “And Santi is too short. And Will is too fucking awkward,” you laugh. You purposely leave out the bit about how perfect hugs from Frankie are, how much you dream about them and crave them.

His dark brows furrow as he looks up at you with glazed eyes. “Wha’bout me?”

The car stops for a moment as a light in front of you turns red. You smile down at him and push his messy curls from his forehead. “I like hugging you. You’re comfy.”

“Ha, grizzly bear hugs,” he slurs. “Y’should call me that more often. I like it when you call me things the boys don’t. Makes me feel tingly,” he laughs, lovestruck as he looks up at you.

“Tingly?”

“Yeah, like when they put the meds in before they steal your teeth.”

“Steal your teeth?” You laugh loudly, toying with one of the curls. “Do you mean get a tooth removed?”

“Same thing. I don’t like it when they do it then. I like it when you call me stuff though. Fishie makes me laugh and feel happy.”

“Oh yeah?” God, he’s so fucking precious. He looks at you like a puppy stares at their owner, pure and unadulterated love radiating from them. “I’ll need to call you Fishie more often then.”

It’s quiet for a while. Frankie’s head still rests against your shoulder. He can feel all of the tiny muscles move as you steer and navigate the car. He likes the way they move, making his drunken head even more floaty. After a few moments, he shifts to lean against the car door, just watching you.

The music drifting from the radio is soft and quiet. You almost think Frankie’s fallen asleep, since he’s so quiet, but you look over and see him gazing over at you. “Penny for your thoughts, Fish.”

You’re expecting something stupid. Frankie is quite the philosopher when he’s drunk, always asking odd rhetorical questions. ‘Is a muffin an unfrosted cupcake?’ has always been a favorite of his. He’s never quite made up his mind about it, waxing poetic about the difference in the two baked goods.

He always says something stupid, but this time, his sober thoughts become his drunken words. “You’re the most absolute prettiest woman I’ve ever seen,” he smiles at you, those pink lips curled into a soft smile. It shows off his dimple, and you want to scream from how cute he looks. One of his big hands reaches over and cups your face.

“You’re drunk,” you shake your head, looking back at the road. “Don’t be stupid.”

“No, I mean yeah. Kinda drunk and really stupid, ha, but I mean it. You’re so fuckin’ pretty, cariño.” The backs of his fingers trace across the side of your face, resting on the side of your neck now.

You look down at yourself, still skeptical. “No, I know what you’re gonna say,” he pouts, beating you to the punch. “You’re in your pajamas and your hair is all messy ‘n whatever, but you’re so pretty. Your face is so cute. I love your nose. Just wanna…” he leans over and makes good on his promise for earlier. “Boop,” he coos as he pokes the tip of your nose, smiling wide. “You’re so cute. The guys make fun’a me because I never shut up about it.”

“Oh really?” you ask, raising an eyebrow and laughing.

“Yeah. Santi says I’m in love with you,” he murmurs, sitting back against the car window.

You gulp as you force yourself to grip the steering wheel harder, staring at the white dashes separating the two-lane road. “Yeah? What do you have to say on the matter?”

“I’m kinda thinkin’ he might be right.” His voice is small and quiet.

You shake your head again, eyes watering from the honesty. There’s no way he can think that. He’s shitfaced. He doesn’t mean it, there’s no way. He’s never been more than a friend, done anything to indicate romance.

Or… maybe he has, you reflect. He pays for your drinks most nights. He’ll order something you want and share it with you. He’s always a little touchier than he is with the boys. “You don’t mean that,” you say quietly, swallowing hard.

Whatever common sense he has left tells him to be quiet, so he does. He sits there silently for the rest of the drive, the tension palpable between the two of you. When you finally reach his house and park, you hold your breath. You don’t know what to do, what to say, but you can’t just let him go inside without saying anything. He sits up a little straighter as he realizes he’s come to a stop.

You bite your lip and look over at him. “I should help you inside.”

He nods and you turn off the car, putting the key in the pocket of your hoodie. You get out and walk to Frankie’s side, opening his door. He reaches his arms out to you and you chuckle a little. He looks like a helpless little child.

“Alright, grizzly bear,” you grunt as he swings his feet out and you help lift him to his feet. His arms cling to you tight until he’s standing up.

“Thanks,” he murmurs and wraps an arm around your shoulder when he’s upright.

“Don’t thank me yet,” you chuckle.

Using you as a crutch, he walks alongside you and into his house. He fumbles with the key until you open it for him, then lock it behind you. He leads the way to his room, opening the door and sighing as he sees his bed.

“Not yet,” you say as he tries to get to the bed. “Come on.” You pull his flannel off, leaving him in the t-shirt underneath. “Okay, go on.” He flops down onto his bed with a happy noise. Once he’s down, you unlace his boots and pull them off, then his socks.

Standing at his side, you undo his belt. “Woah,” he laughs. “‘M way too drunk for that, pretty girl. Kinda wanna though.”

“Shut the fuck up, Fish,” you laugh and thread it through the loops, tossing it aside. “I’m getting your clothes off so you can sleep.”

“Oh,” he sighs, giggling drunkenly as you pull his pants off. “Kinda feels like we’re gonna fuck.”

“Maybe another time,” you tease and pull the covers over him. Pushing his curls from his face, you softly kiss his cheek. “Call me when you’re sober, okay?”

He frowns and grabs the hand on his face with both of his rough palms. “Don’t leave me,” he pouts.

“Frankie,” you sigh and look at your watch. “It’s 3:35 in the goddamn morning.”

“Then stay the night,” he begs. “You said you like hugging me. I want you to hug me all night long,” he sighs, kissing your fingertips. You smile softly. It’s a good offer, you have to admit. He makes it even harder to say no. “I won’t be able to sleep if you’re not here when I wake up.”

“Lots of things can happen while you’re asleep, Fishie. I can-”

“Mm, Fishie,” he says with a smile, his eyes fluttering closed. “Come snuggle with me, pretty girl.”

You sigh as you look at the man. It’s not like you haven’t spent time pressed into his side, watching a sports game or a movie. You and Frankie are affectionate friends. He looks so warm and inviting, his body radiating heat. “Fine,” you give in. “Only because I’m cold.”

“Not ‘cause you like me too?” he asks and rolls over, leaving room for you.

“We can discuss that when you’re sober.” The spot he laid is warm and cozy, his body heat making it perfect for you. You slide under the covers next to him and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest.

Frankie presses a sloppy kiss to your head, smiling. You can hear his slow and steady heartbeat. “G’night cariño,” he mumbles, lips still buried in your hair.

“Goodnight, Frankie,” you whisper.

He falls asleep almost instantly, and you’re close behind him. You’ve never been more at peace than when you fall asleep in Frankie Morales’s arms.

-

read part two: SOBER THOUGHTS

-

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @softly-sad @blo0dangel @binarydanvvers @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867

[moonlit-jeno]

evanescence (m.)

pairing: kim jungwoo x fem. reader

genre/warnings: ghost au, explicit sexual content, angst, fluff, mentions of death, some graphic violence/ gore, character death, brief mention of heights, i swear it’s not as bad as it sounds

word count: 7.8k

summary:

evanescence (n.): the quality of being fleeting or vanishing quickly; impermanence; i.e the evanescence of dreams

song to listen to: me & your ghost- blackbear, faded in my last song- nct, trampoline- SHAED, lonely heart- 5  seconds of summer, dreaming with a broken heart- john mayer

notes: evanescence i.e not the band who wrote my immortal <3 part of the almost collab!

The thing about fear is that it’s irrational.

Of course the doll in the corner of your room won’t suddenly come alive and kill you. Of course the spider on your ceiling is actually harmless. Of course nightmares won’t come true and haunt you in your daily life, won’t do more than bother you for a few minutes when you’re asleep. Knowing that doesn’t make it any less scary. Doesn’t stop the shivers from crawling up your spine, doesn’t ease your breathing when you curl into yourself in an attempt to hide.

Some people find comfort in crawling under their blankets, hiding themselves from the rest of the world as if the thick cloth will protect them. You don’t have that luxury. Because the thing you fear isn’t some axe murderer breaking into your house, or some mutant spider wrapping you up in a web. It’s not ghosts or ghouls or demons.

It’s sleep itself.

You used to love sleeping. Naps were considered a favorite hobby of yours, a way to escape from your obligations temporarily or lift your spirits during a bad day. But the line between like and dislike is thin, and the peaceful dreams you were accustomed to transformed into terrors that torture your nights and leave you shaking and sleep deprived when you wake.

Coffee becomes your best friend, the drink becoming a crutch that you use desperately to avoid reliving the nightmare that haunts you every time your eyes fall shut. It’s always the same scene: a basement, a young man being tortured by a masked figure. Punched, strangled, stabbed. It’s always in that order, with the exact same amount of punches and stabbings each time- six. It’s worse than any movie you’ve ever seen, worse than anything that you can imagine. And yet it doesn’t get any less horrifying as time goes on, as you relive the same thing over and over again.

The only thing that changes is the point of view. Sometimes you can see it from his perspective, begging for mercy from an expressionless figure whose ears fall deaf to the boy’s pleas. That’s the worst, you think, because you can feel everything. It leaves you frantically checking yourself for wounds and marks and bruises, the vividness of your dream leaving you shocked when you find your skin unmarred. Sometimes you watch from the corner of the room, able to see everything yet unable to help, your voice stuck in your throat when you attempt to cry for help. And sometimes, you’re the killer, repeatedly delivering blow after blow in a body you can’t control.

Tonight’s different. Instead of the boy strapped to the chair, it’s you.

You shake and cry out, trying desperately to free yourself of the restraints. They aren’t strong, and yet your limbs feel like jelly and you can’t break free of them. A shadow looms over you and you look up, expecting to see the killer, but you don’t. Instead, the boy stands over you.

His features are softer like this, not scrunched in pain or splattered with blood and bruises. He smiles gently at you.

“Hello,” He says, kneeling down in front of you. One hand lands on yours and the restraints fall away, your limbs now free. “I’m Jungwoo.” You just blink at him. “I’ve seen you in my dreams.” Jungwoo’s smile falters a bit, and he huffs a humorless laugh. “That… yeah. That’s less of a dream and more of a…” He trails off, shrugs. “Memory.”

It takes a moment for it to process fully. Memory? If that’s his memory, then that means that he had to go through all of that. “I’m- I’m so sorry. Who put you through that?” He shrugs. “Dunno. But I wouldn’t pity me too much.” There’s a tight lipped smile on his face. “I’m the one that’s made you go through it, too.”

You blink once, twice, and feel the sympathy in your bones turn to fury. “Why?” You ask, tears brimming at your eyes. “I didn’t do anything to you! And you still tortured me, every night. Do you know how terrified I was? I am?”

“I’m sorry.” Jungwoo says, eyes downcast. “I didn’t even know I was projecting onto you at first. I would just get so consumed with what happened that night, and I guess you would relive the scene with me.” He takes a slow step towards you and raises his head. “I never meant to hurt you, I’m sorry.” You nod, because what can you say? Jungwoo doesn’t seem to know either and he stands there, shifting from foot to foot, looking everywhere but at you. “So.” You start, head tilting to the side curiously. “How does this work?” “How does what work?” Jungwoo seems surprised, but whether it’s by your question or by the fact that you’re able to string a coherent sentence together is lost on you.

“I dunno. This. Like are you a ghost? Do you just like, live inside my head now.” “Yeah, I mean I’m dead so I must be a ghost. Haven’t had much time to talk to people and ask.” It’s not meant to be funny, but you can’t stop yourself from laughing. You clear your throat to cover it, trying to focus your energy on your next words. He doesn’t look too hurt at your amusement, though. His eyes are twinkling. 

“Hmm let’s test it. If you live in my head, you should be able to hear my thoughts right?” Jungwoo stares at you, bringing one hand up to stroke his chin thoughtfully. Finally, he snaps his fingers. “Got it! You want pizza.” “Nope! I want you out of my head.” Your smile is sickeningly sweet. Jungwoo rolls his eyes, tongue sticking into his cheek briefly before laughing.

“Well, I want to be alive but here we are. Guess we’re at a standstill.”

Guilt fills you and you open your mouth to apologize, but Jungwoo disappears right before your eyes. You try to call out after him but it’s too late, the dream’s over. The annoying beep of your alarm replaces his soft laughter and you groan, fumbling with your phone to turn the sound off.

Classes pass quickly for once, although you’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t register any of the material. You’re done for the day before you know it, finding yourself at a cafe with Johnny. “You’re in a good mood.” He comments, looking at you with his eyebrows furrowed. “Did you get replaced by aliens?” You roll your eyes. “I can be in a good mood, Johnny.” It’s rarely true because you’re normally running off of approximately six minutes of sleep, but hey, it still counts. 

Johnny raises his eyebrows. “Y/n, you’re never in a good mood. Not even when your best friend is here.” 

“My best friend is here? Where?” Johnny gives you a deadpan expression and you laugh, popping a grape into your mouth. “Kidding, you know I love you. But guess what: I actually slept last night!” He gasps so obnoxiously loud that he inhales the chip he was holding and chokes around it, slamming his hand down on the table and hacking his lungs out. You put your head in your hands until he finally recovers. “You slept? You actually slept? Holy fuck, you did get replaced by aliens!”

“No aliens, John. No nightmares either.” Johnny, though he’s your best friend, doesn’t know the details of your dreams. He knows that they’re bad enough to make you cry and curl up in his arms from time to time, knows that you chug energy drinks to avoid sleeping, but that’s about it. No gruesome murders in sight for him.

“Holy shit, that’s great! We should celebrate.” Johnny reaches across the table to high five you, grinning from ear to ear. “Wanna come over and crack open a few cold ones?” He bites his lip and you know that it’s taking all of his effort not to finish that sentence. 

You appreciate it, but you shake your head. “I’ve got a lab report to finish plus like two papers due. I really don’t have time.” That’s only slightly true. Yes, you do have homework, but you normally wouldn’t let that stop you. The itch to see Jungwoo again, however crazy it may sound, is driving you crazy and for once in your life, you can’t wait to fall asleep. Seeing Johnny’s expression drop makes you feel a little bad for bailing on him with a ghost. “Maybe this weekend?” 

“Yeah, for sure.” Johnny grins again. “Hopefully you get to sleep tonight.”

The nightmares seem to go away permanently after that. Your dreams always take place in that one room, but Jungwoo’s always there to greet you. A month passes and you learn a lot about him, almost to the point where you see him as a friend. Almost. Because you can’t really be friends with someone who isn’t alive, right? But he feels real. His spirit is still alive, to the point where you forget he’s a ghost who you can only talk to in your dreams, and that’s what matters. Except tonight when you fall asleep, you open your eyes to sand and salt water, gentle waves calmly lapping at the shore. Strange. Jungwoo sits with his back facing you, knees drawn up to his chest. He doesn’t look up when you sit down next to him, but he does speak when you say his name softly.

“I think I figured out why I came back.” Jungwoo says, eyes concentrated on the water. “My brother’s in danger.” His head drops to rest on his knees and you pat his back, not knowing what to say.

You don’t learn what Jungwoo meant until the next night, the man so distraught that he isn’t able to form words before your time’s up. The scene is different again this time, a playground replacing the beach from the night before. Jungwoo sits on a red plastic swing, his feet dragging on the ground sadly.

“Hey Jungwoo.” You call out the greeting gently, taking a seat next to him. “Are you okay?” He nods, laughs a little. “Yeah, sorry for freaking out last night. It’s just. It’s a lot.” “Sounds like it is. You wanna talk about it?” You pat his knee comfortingly and he stares at your hand for a long moment before covering it with his own. 

He tells you about his brother first, about how much he misses Mark, about how bad he feels for leaving him on his own. Mark’s younger than him, but only by a year, and he was nowhere near as good as him at FIFA. He tells you that he doesn’t remember who killed him, but that as soon as he was transported to the beach, he knew his brother was in danger. There’s no explanation on how the beach told him that, but you have no place questioning the afterlife. You listen patiently throughout the whole story, and it seems to help Jungwoo, his shoulders sagging with relief when he’s done.

“So whoever killed me,” Jungwoo squeezes your hand, stares at the woodchips dragging around. “They’re going to kill my brother next.”

“So we find your killer. Easy.” You squeeze his hand back. “Mark’s going to be okay, Woo. I promise.”

~

Tonight’s dream takes place on a rooftop. There are lights strung up that lead you straight to Jungwoo, the man facing you with a smile on his lips and a twinkle in his eyes. His arms are outstretched and you walk into them, sighing softly when he wraps you in his embrace. Lips press to your forehead and you swear you’ve reached heaven. “Dance with me.” He whispers it as if you have a choice to disagree with him when he looks this good. You nod and bury your face in his chest, swaying with him under the stars. There’s music playing now, music that you didn’t hear before, and he hums softly to it as you dance. A squeal leaves you when he spins you, dipping you down before pulling you close, your back to his chest. His lips graze your ear and he laughs before spinning you back around and pulling you into a kiss.

It feels so good and you find yourself getting lost in his touch. The warmth of him against you, the solidness of his chest under your palms. It’s so nice, so comforting, so… real. But it can’t be real. Because this is a dream, because Jungwoo is dead. The thought is enough to jolt you out of your haze and you try to pull back, need to pull back, but the hand on the back of your head holds you still and it feels so good that you almost don’t want to pull out of his embrace. “Jungwoo,” you mumble his name against his lips, not wanting to pull away from the kiss but needing to know the answer to your question. “Jungwoo, are you real?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Jungwoo chuckles, pulling you back for more. “Don’t I feel real?”

A gasp leaves you when his hand slips lower to your ass, squeezing before slipping between your thighs. He finds little resistance, easily reaching under your dress and past the thin panties you’re wearing to swipe through your folds and enter you, stretching you out deliciously well. You cling to him as if he’s your life line and not the other way around, letting him take you apart with his fingers. His name leaves your lips in a sob and you press your face against his neck, clutch at his shoulders. “Please, Jungwoo, please.”

Both of his hands slide to your ass and he picks you up easily, your legs wrapping around his waist automatically. He carries you over to the ledge of the roof, setting you down on the cool stone. He barely gives you time to take in what’s happening before he’s dropping to his knees in front of you, his eyes dark and so intense that you can’t look away from his gaze as he attaches his lips to your thighs. You slide one hand into his hair and he moans into your skin, the vibrations traveling through you as he kisses his way up your thighs and to your core. A sigh leaves you and you put your other hand behind you for balance, your heart dropping to your stomach when your fingertips wrap around the edge of the balcony. “Jungwoo!” You yelp immediately trying to stand up when you look behind you and see the darkness below you, decorated with lights from buildings so far down that they’re almost as tiny as the stars above you. “Jungwoo, I’m gonna fall. Ohmygod I’m gonna fall, Woo-”

“Shh,” Jungwoo hushes you, rubbing your thigh soothingly. He reaches for your hand and laces your fingers together, taking a moment to press his lips to the back of your hand. “Look at me, y/n. You’re not going to fall, okay? I’ll always be here to catch you if you do.” Something in his eyes looks so honest, so sincere, and you find yourself nodding slowly.

“Okay.” Your voice comes out as a whisper, too scared to raise it any louder and break the moment between you. “I trust you.” Jungwoo smiles up at you one more time before lowering himself down to your core. His free hand lifts the edge of your dress up and he takes his time rubbing slow circles into your clit, sighing out praises about how good you are when you shake from the unbearably intense sensation. His eyes stay on yours the whole time, even as he lowers his mouth to your pussy and eats you out like a man starved. It feels so good that you can barely process it, squirming against him and letting your eyes roll back. 

“Fuck, Jungwoo,” You whimper, feeling your orgasm build up in the pit of your stomach. “Shit, c’mere.” You use the hand buried in his hair to tug him up, pressing his lips to yours for a sloppy kiss that feels way too good for the moment. He rubs messy circles into your clit that have you clutching him tight to your chest, crying out his name so loud that you’re sure the entire city can hear you. “You like that?” Jungwoo asks, although his voice is so cocky that you’re almost entirely sure he knows the answer. “Fucking love it,” You pant out, orgasm so close you can taste. “Love you, ohmygod.” The end of your sentence cuts off with a whine as you come so hard you nearly black out, holding onto him so tightly you’re sure you would’ve broken at least one of his bones if this were real.

If this were real, if he were real. If this wasn’t a dream with a ghost. The realization washes over you like cold water and the dream disappears before you in a flash, leaving you trembling and empty in more ways than one. Your hand is tingling and when you look at it, you realize that Jungwoo didn’t let go the entire time.

You’re not in your bed when you wake up. It takes you a moment to realize it, the weight of your dream still heavy on your mind, but then you open your eyes and process your surroundings and realize that even though you’re awake, you’re back in your nightmares.

A scream leaves you and you jolt out of the chair, falling flat on your ass. You scramble backwards a good few feet before relaxing, realizing that your mind was just playing tricks on you. This is no nightmare place, it’s just your basement. Except…

That chair is definitely the chair from your nightmares- or well, Jungwoo’s murder. You’ve never seen it down here before, but then again, you never go into the basement. It’s been years since you’ve been down here, the room always giving you the creeps. And you’ve never sleepwalked- you can’t fathom why you’d be down here.

“Jungwoo?” You whisper, not even flinching at the gust of cold air as he materializes next to you. “Why am I down here?” “This is where I was murdered.” Jungwoo murmurs, his gaze distant, cloudy. You furrow your eyebrows.

“Here? Are you sure?” He nods strongly, not an ounce of hesitation on his face. You get to your feet and watch him pace around, tentatively poking at objects. A violent shudder runs through him when he touches the chair. “Jungwoo, this is my house.” He freezes. “This is your house? Then you must know who murdered me.” 

There’s a long second where you just stare at him, not knowing what to say. Thoughts abandon you and your mind goes blank, leaving you to shake your head and stutter out objections. “W- No, Jungwoo, I can’t-” A deep breath, a heavy exhale. “No one ever comes down here, and I can’t remember the last time I even had people here.”

“Well someone had to come down here!” Jungwoo presses, motioning at himself. “Y/n, I’m dead. You could help me find who killed me.”

You spend hours thinking through every person you know, mulling over all of your friends and anyone else who has ever been to your house. Parents are ruled out immediately- they live across the country, first off, and your mom nearly cries whenever she so much as swats a fly. Jungwoo tries to help, but he doesn’t know anyone the way that you do, and he’s a tad bit negative.

“Okay, but how do you know they’re not killers.” He asks, tone flat. “I mean, do you have hard evidence? Because somehow none of them are killers, and yet…” He smiles humorlessly and holds his arms out, doing a twirl for you. “I’m dead.” “I’m trying.” You say tiredly, pinching the bridge of your nose. “It’s just hard. Literally no one ever comes over, and I can’t picture my friends as killers. Plus, no one has access to my house except for me.” You purse your lips, staring at your sad little notepaper list with dozens of names scratched out. “Is it possible this happened before I lived here?” Jungwoo shrugs. “Yeah, I guess.” He doesn’t look convinced.

You purse your lips, groaning in defeat when your mind stays blank. “I’m sorry, Woo. We’ll figure it out eventually, I promise. I just can’t think right now.” “Hey, it’s okay. Thank you for helping and not like, I don’t know, calling an exorcist.” Jungwoo presses himself to your side, poking your cheek when you laugh, and his presence is so comforting that it’s easy to forget that he’s not really there. You swat at him good naturedly, your laugh cutting off early when you realize that he’s disappeared. You call for him a few times, panic racing through your mind, until he manifests again a few feet away from you. 

“Ohmygod, I’m so sorry! Did that hurt you? I didn’t know that would happen!” You jump to your feet, reaching out to him on impulse before thinking better of it. 

Jungwoo laughs softly, but his form flickers. “It’s okay. I guess you can only touch me in dreams.” He smiles, but it’s with his mouth closed tight. The chair becomes visible through his form as he flickers again. 

The mention of touch jolts your memories and you scratch the back of your neck nervously. “Wait, Woo, I meant to ask.” He looks at you expectantly, humming for you to go on. “Last night, in the dream. Was that like, was that really you?” “Hm? Are you asking if it was real or not?” Jungwoo asks. You nod, unable to look away from his gaze. “It was me, y/n. I’m real.”

You nod, lips pursed as you think it over. Jungwoo smiles though it’s hollow, hard to see the usual light in him when he’s nearly translucent again. “I’ll see you tonight?” 

He doesn’t wait for an answer before vanishing, leaving you alone in the cold basement.

“Yeah.” You whisper softly, a dark cloud hanging over your head.

~

“What’s in the bag?” Johnny asks you, nodding towards your bookbag. It’s normally empty, save for a notebook or wallet, but today it’s stuffed full of newspaper clippings and binders. 

“Nothing.” You shrug. “Just some old articles.” 

Johnny thumbs through a stack of the papers before looking up at you, his forehead creased. “On murders?”

“Yeah. They’re interesting. Figured I should know the history of the town I live in, right?” You take a sip of your coffee, hoping you don’t look as insane as you feel. It’d taken you hours of searching to find those articles, digging through the library archives and reading murder after murder to find ones that seemed similar to Jungwoo’s case. They were unsettling, to say the least, and the fact that someone had taken a life under your own roof left you jittery. “I mean, I guess?” Johnny shakes his head and thumbs through a few more, hesitating at one of the clippings before shoving them back in your bag. “Kind of an appetite killer.” He says, pausing after a second and laughing. “Hah, get it? Killer…” The cold stare you give him has him sobering up quickly. He clears his throat. “Anyways. What else have you been up to? You’ve been kinda distant lately.” Have you been? Probably. “Sorry.” You shrug. “Caught up in my work, you know how it is.” Johnny wiggles his eyebrows. “Seeing a new man?” You shoot him a withering look. He throws his hands up innocently. “Woman? Person?”

The word ‘ghost’ is on the tip of your tongue, but that sounds insane even to you. You can’t be seeing someone whose body fades out of existence when you so much as blow air on him too strongly. “No, Johnny. I’d tell you if I was dating someone.” “Promise?” He asks. You hold your pinky out to him, interlocking the digits and offering him a smile. He grins back. “Good. You wanna come over tonight? Play some video games, order some pizza?” 

It sounds good, and you really don’t want to be alone at your house after discovering it was the site of a murder, but you don’t want to leave Jungwoo. He’s kind of counting on you for something big, plus you have all those articles to show him… 

At your hesitation, Johnny pouts. “Come on, I feel like I’ve barely seen you for like, a month. Please? It’ll be just like old times.” The promise of old times has your resolve fading, and you give into his whining. He cheers and knocks your coffees together, dramatically complaining when the liquid splashes onto his sleeve.

~

Taking a nap had seemed like a great idea when you had gotten home from lunch, but it’s the first time you’ve dreamt without Jungwoo in your dreams, and all of the nightmares were so genuinely disturbing that you wake up sobbing. Every room seems so foreboding that you can’t bring yourself to sit in the house any longer and you run out the door without any further thought. The rain soaks through your thin sleep clothes and you find that you have three missed calls from Johnny, but you don’t bother to call him back. You’ll be at his place soon enough, and the rain is starting to blue the screen too much for you to see. Or maybe it’s your tears, you can’t be sure, and you really don’t care.

You knock on Johnny’s door, stepping back and impatiently shifting from foot to foot before stepping forward and knocking again. Exhaling harshly, you raise your fist to knock again. The door opens.

A very disgruntled Johnny stands before you, one hand wiping at his face. His hair is disheveled and you have the conscious thought that he must have just woken up, but your brain is flying a million miles a second and you don’t have time to spend worrying about if you’ve interrupted his beauty sleep. “Y/n?” Johnny yawns out, opening the door wider. “You were supposed to come over like 3 hours ago.” His sentence goes unfinished as you push past him, grabbing his wrist and dragging him to the living room. With your hands on his shoulders, you push him down to sit on the couch. He looks less tired and more confused now, which makes sense considering he’s never seen you act like this- you’re not even sure that you’ve ever acted like this- but he keeps silent, trusting you enough to tell him what the fuck is going on. He patiently puts his hands on his knees, watching you pace around the area.

It takes you a while to formulate exactly what to say to him. How exactly do you tell your best friend that you’ve been helping a ghost solve his own murder without him attempting to send you to a psych ward? After a few moments of pacing, in which you accidentally leave a trail of muddy footprints on Johnny’s carpet, you pause.

“This is going to sound insane.” You start, facing Johnny. He nods encouragingly, motioning for you to go on. “I need you to believe me. Promise me that you’ll hear me out until the very end.” Johnny nods. “No, I need you to promise me.” Maybe it’s how frantic your voice sounds, or the fact that you’re soaking wet and still breathing heavily from your run, but Johnny promises without hesitation. His voice is soft and his eyes are wide and you thank God for giving you such a good best friend. You search his eyes with your own, and finding nothing but encouragement and trust, you begin.

“Okay, so. You know those nightmares I’ve been having?” A nod. “Okay, so apparently there’s a ghost living in my house that’s been like, projecting their memories onto me.” Johnny blinks, not even trying to hide the skeptical look on his face. “Before you say anything, I know it sounds crazy. But ghosts are real. Jungwoo- Jungwoo’s real.” Johnny inhales sharply. “His name is Jungwoo?” 

“Yeah. He was murdered 4 years ago in my basement. My basement, Johnny.” You take a deep breath, shuddering. “Whoever did it is still out there, and Jungwoo thinks that his brother might be in danger.” You shift anxiously from foot to foot, hands wringing together in front of you until Johnny takes them into his own, thumbs rubbing over the backs of your hands to calm you. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but can you help me find him? I just need to make sure that he’s okay, and I know it’s silly that I promised a ghost but-” “I’ll help.” There’s a reassuring smile on Johnny’s face when he interrupts you, and you breath out in relief. “It’s okay, y/n. I believe you.”

You launch yourself forward into his arms, hugging him tightly. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. I don’t deserve you.” Johnny laughs. “Yeah, you don’t.” He pulls back from the hug long enough to look you in the eyes. “For right now, let's go to bed, yeah? You really look like you need some rest.”

~

“Okay, so here’s his address. I mean, I think it’s his address.” Johnny looks over your shoulder at the satellite image of Mark’s house, nodding. “We can get there in about two hours.” Johnny hums, stepping away from the computer. “I can get us there faster than that, don’t worry. C’mon, let’s have some coffee and then we can go.” He makes sure you eat something that actually has nutritional value before you go, even going as far as to pack a bag before you hit the road. Johnny does his best to reassure you throughout the drive, but you’re a nervous mess. You compulsively take sips from the water bottle Johnny had forced you to take with and it’s empty in no time, leaving you to drum your fingers along your thighs and squirm with a full bladder.

The house looks so much bigger, so much more foreboding in person. Johnny gives you a reassuring look and after a deep breath, you knock on the door. It takes a few seconds before it creaks open to reveal a man around your age peering at you through black-rimmed glasses that sit crookedly on his face. “Hello?” “Hi, Mark?” he nods, looking you up and down. “Do you have a moment to talk? I just have a few questions, it w-” He’s already moving to close the door before the sentence is even out of your mouth. “Wait, Mark!” You manage to wedge your foot in the door before it closes and he groans, rolling his eyes.

“Look, I’m really not in the mood to buy anything, so if you could just please-” He tries again. “It’s about your brother!” You exclaim, finally succeeding in getting Mark to listen. He freezes and stares down at you dumbly. His eyes stay on you for a little too long before lifting to look behind you. 

“Johnny?” Mark asks, eyes widening. “Is that you?” You look over to find Johnny standing behind you, a soft smile on his face. “Yeah, it’s me. How you doin, kid?”

Mark lets you into the house after tackling Johnny into a hug, offering you tea and a seat on the couch. “I didn’t know you knew Jungwoo,” You whisper to Johnny, watching Mark grab cups from the kitchen. 

Johnny shrugs. “Never had a reason to bring him up.” He definitely could’ve brought him up earlier, like when you mentioned you were seeing his ghost, but you brush it off as nothing. Maybe he didn’t want to upset you.

Mark returns, offering you each a cup of tea before taking a seat on the couch opposite you. “Wow, it’s been so long.” Mark laughs, clutching his tea for dear life. “It’s so good to see friends of Jungwoo’s again. It’s like, it’s not the same as seeing him but. It’s nice.”

“Good to see you too, Mark.” Johnny smiles. “I looked all over for you after Jungwoo’s death, but I couldn’t find you. When did you move?” Mark sniffs. “Um, I think like a month after it happened. They arrested the guy that killed him and I dipped. It was too painful to see all those little reminders of him everywhere.” Mark sniffs again, and wipes harshly at his eye. It makes you tear up a little too, thinking about how fondly Jungwoo talked about his brother, how unfair it is that they got ripped apart so soon. One phrase sticks out to you and you manage to reel yourself back in before you start crying too hard.

“Wait, they caught the guy? Do you know who killed him?” You side eye Johnny because he must have known that the killer was caught already, and it doesn’t make sense that he didn’t tell you considering that was the sole reason for this trip. 

“Um, well. Jungwoo uh, he had a sort of accident.” His hands are shaking, you notice. Some tea spills onto his leg. “He used to go out to all these parties and he swore he’d be safe but I guess he slipped up this one time.” Mark takes a deep breath and his voice cracks. “He was driving home from a party and he probably thought he was fine but he was way too drunk and he hit a pedestrian. He drove away but her boyfriend saw the whole thing and followed him.” Mark drops his head down and sobs a little.

Johnny moves to comfort him and Mark calms down after a few moments, skillfully changing the topic away from his dead brother. All the water that you drank in the car finally catches up to you and you excuse yourself for a second. Mark’s laughter rings clearly from the living room and you can’t help but to laugh too, smiling at Johnny’s ability to make everyone happy. You fix your hair in the mirror, a little spring in your step at the thought of being able to fulfill your promise to Jungwoo. 

You wish he was with you right now as you walk down the hallway back to the living room. There are so many pictures on the walls, Mark’s accomplishments framed proudly. It sends an ache through your heart that you’re here to see all of this by yourself. It’s only then, when you’re picturing Jungwoo exploring the house with you, that you realize how quiet it’s gotten. 

Frowning, you call out Johnny’s name. You get no response and call out again, finally catching movement out of the corner of your eye. “Johnny, why’d you sneak up on me?” A laugh leaves you when you turn to fully face him, cutting off only at the flash of color that slowly fades to black.

~

Your head is throbbing when you come to, vision taking a few seconds to clear up. A groan leaves you and you shake your head softly, coming face to face with Mark. A Mark whose mouth is covered with duct tape. You freeze, eyes widening, then look down to find that the rest of him is bound, too. “What-” 

Panic surges through you when you realize that your hands and ankles are bound too, and you jerk your head to the side, frantically searching to make sure that Johnny’s okay. You don’t find him. It’s only you and Mark in the room. “Johnny? Hey, whoever the fuck has us down here better leave Johnny the fuck alone!” You might currently be tied up, but the fact that your best friend is missing and potentially hurt overtakes any concern you may have for yourself. Mark’s eyes widen and he shakes his head frantically. You furrow your eyebrows and go to ask what he means, but you don’t get the chance.

“Oh, don’t worry. Johnny’s just fine.” The sentence comes from the man himself, standing right in front of the door. Relief fills you, turning to dread the second he closes the door and flips the lock. “You however…” “Johnny? What are you doing?” You ask, watching as he rolls his sleeves up to the elbow. 

He tips his head to the side, looking at you with confusion. “Isn’t it obvious?” The glint in his eyes matches the knife he picks up, the dim light catching on the shine of the blade. “For someone who apparently experienced Jungwoo’s death dozens of times, you should be able to figure it out.”

You blink once, twice, and then your eyes bug so far out of your head you worry they might fall out. A soft wheeze leaves you as your chest constricts, panic blooming in your gut. Johnny wheezes too, but his is a wheeze of laughter. He’s amused.

His eyes slide down to Mark, whose eyes are glimmering with fresh tears. “Did you know it was me Mark? Did you know it was me who killed your brother?” The boy shakes his head frantically, tears free-falling down his cheeks now. There’s some muffled cries that you think sound like no, but the tape traps them and makes him incomprehensible. “Really?” Johnny asks, stepping forward until he reaches Mark and then squatting down in front of him.

“Liar.” Johnny whispers, dragging the syllables out. The point of the knife presses into the boys throat, and while the noise Mark makes is barely audible, you can feel his suffering. There’s a tense moment as Johnny increases the pressure, Mark leaning backwards as far as he can to get away, before Johnny pulls it away. Mark exhales strongly, relaxing a little bit. He’s still crying. “It doesn’t matter, though.”

Tears would probably be rolling down your cheeks if you could process what was happening. But shock has taken ahold of you, and you can only watch helplessly as Johnny turns to glance back at you. “Thanks to y/n, now you’ll never get the chance to tell anyone.”

Johnny whips back around in record speed and slices the knife right through Mark’s throat. 

A scream leaves you and you fall forward, unable to do anything but watch in horror as the line in Mark’s neck wells with blood, the poor boy convulsing in horror. A wretched gurgling noise leaves him as he chokes and frantically gasps for air, made even worse by the duct tape over his mouth. Johnny sets the knife down delicately and uses that hand to pinch his fingers over Mark’s nose, effectively shutting off his air-flow. The fight drains out of Mark’s body along with his life, and it’s just a few more seconds before he stills completely. 

You can’t think of anything to say, can just gape at Mark’s body as Johnny lets go of him and the boy hits the floor. Johnny turns to you next, picking the knife back up. 

“It’s a shame you’re always so curious, y/n.” Johnny sighs, shaking his head. “You’re my best friend, I’m going to miss you.”

There’s the faintest breeze against your cheek bone, your hair blowing to tickle the back of your neck. You try your best not to shiver when it starts blowing against your wrists. It takes you a moment to realize that it’s not a draft from an open window, but it’s Jungwoo. He’s not visible, probably because he’s focusing his energy on freeing you. If Johnny notices anything wrong, he doesn’t say anything. Your wrists aren’t free yet, but you can feel the rope loosening. If you can buy yourself some more time…

“Why are you doing this? Why did you kill Jungwoo in the first place?” Your question obviously catches Johnny off guard and he stops walking, glancing off to the side and sighing softly. He seems to have an internal debate but then he shrugs, settling down on the floor across from you. It calms you a little to have him seated instead of looming over you, and you try your best to stay absolutely still.

When Johnny speaks, there’s a hint of regret in his voice. It’s hard to tell if it’s manufactured or not. “Jungwoo and I were best friends. We always had each others backs, always told each other everything. Ride or dies.” His eyes lower to his knife and he smears the blood around the blade with his thumb. “I was the one who hit the girl. I was drunk and it was stupid, but when I called Jungwoo to help me get rid of the body, he refused. He wanted to call the police, y/n. The police.” His eyes are brimming with tears now, and he looks up at you with an urgency that tells you to believe him. You don’t of course, and you can’t tell if he’s trying to convince you of his innocence, or himself. “My own best friend wanted to turn me in, y/n. I couldn’t let him do it.”

“How did you even get into my basement?” 

“You were at a training retreat in the mountains for that job you ended up hating that weekend. I knew that your house was empty and where the spare key was, plus I knew that no one ever went into your basement.” Johnny shrugs. “His body’s in the backyard, in case you were wondering. Buried him under the dahlias.” The red dahlias, your mothers favorite plant. How many times had she gone out to water and tend to the flowers, unknowing of the poor boy who lay beneath? Your breath catches in your throat and you finally can feel tears pricking the back of your eyelids. 

“You’re sick.” The sentence is barely above a whisper, but it carries enough weight with it. Johnny’s entire demeanor changes, his face twisting into an ugly scowl.

“I’m sick? I’m not the one that was going to betray my best friend by letting him rot in jail! How fucking dare you.” The ropes fall off of your wrists and you grab onto them to prevent them from hitting the ground and alerting Johnny. All that’s left is the rope on your ankle, and then you can make your move. “Yeah? Aren’t you betraying your best friend right now? Just like you did last time?” “I should’ve used the duct tape on you.” He murmurs, tightening his hold on the knife.

There’s enough give in the ropes that you can wiggle your ankles. You just need a few more seconds. “Why didn’t you?” “Ran out.” Johnny breathes, lunging at you. You squeak and roll to the side, groaning when your legs refuse to function. Sitting on them for so long made them feel like jelly and they tingle as the blood rushes back to your limbs. “What the- you little bitch.”

Johnny attacks again and you dodge yet again, doing nothing but rolling around and avoiding him. You definitely can’t beat him in a physical fight, but you can probably beat him in other ways.

Johnny’s breath catches in his throat. “J-Jungwoo?” He stops moving, obviously trying to process how someone who is clearly dead can stand in front of him. Unfortunately, his body doesn’t quite get the memo, and he trips over Mark’s form. A sickly thud resonates through the room as he falls, followed by a deafening silence. 

When Johnny doesn’t move for a few seconds, you step closer to examine him. The first thing you notice is that there’s a little stain under his chest that’s steadily getting bigger, contrasting starkly against the wooden floor. The second thing you notice is the acrid stench of blood, too strong for the small room you’re in. Third is the tip of the blade sticking out of his back. After checking his pulse and finding nothing, you roll him over. You find the hilt of his knife sticking out of his chest and your breath catches in your throat. He must’ve landed on it when he tripped. You slump against the wall and try to catch your breath, staring at Johnny’s limp body and waiting for him to lunge at you. 

He never does. You look up to say thank you to Jungwoo, but you don’t get a chance. He looks right at his brother’s limp body and disappears, leaving you alone in the room.

You sleep as much as you can, hoping that Jungwoo will pop up in your dreams again. You cry when you sleep and you cry when you wake, until you get to the point where your eyes burn and your face swells and you can’t physically cry anymore. You cry until you’re exhausted and yet you can’t sleep, can only frustratingly toss and turn and scream silently through your raw throat, praying to a god that you don’t believe in to let you see Jungwoo, just one more time. That’s all you need. Just one more time to say goodbye.

Promises are mumbled into your pillow and chanted in your mind but there’s only so much you can do to keep them. You swear to never forget Jungwoo but the words are meaningless and do nothing to stop his face from fading. Slowly, his features become less clear in your mind, his laugh blending with countless others until you can’t differentiate them. You get him a proper grave in a cemetery, and you go from visiting his grave every day to going every few days, until weeks pass before you remember you wanted to leave flowers for him. The flowers last even less than your promises, wilting and rotting on the stone, becoming a sadly unrecognizable mess. You do your best to clean it, and you cry so hard the first time you see the mess that you almost black out, but it’s now a sight that doesn’t even phase you.

Time doesn’t stop to wait for you. It’s not long before you finish grad school and get a job offer in a city 1500 miles away, much different from this one. Your sister drives down to help you pack, easily helping you throw things that you need into a suitcase and counteracting your hoarding tendencies. Something catches your eye just as you’re leaving and you pick it up, frowning at the little resin flower. 

“What’s that?” your sister asks, leaning in over your shoulder. “Is that a dahlia?”

“I don’t know.” you furrow your eyebrows, trying to place why it seems so familiar, before shrugging. It makes a hollow sound when you toss it into the trash that seems to echo much too loud for such a tiny object.

She heaves your suitcase into your arms. “Ready?”

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

You don’t look back.

[iamnotparticularlyproud]

PPB Square: Kink Discovery | @peterparkerbingo

word count: 2.7k rating: mature warnings: none ao3 link: https://bit.ly/3xpiBdx

Summary: Bucky and Peter have been together for a while, but Peter can’t bring himself to talk to his boyfriend about how their sex life is a bit - uh, well, boring. Instead, Peter searches Bucky’s laptop while he isn’t home for any sign of kink whatsoever. To say it doesn’t go as he planned would be an understatement.

Bucky’s amazing. So, so amazing, and Peter could go on about it for days - about his silly nicknames, the way he makes the Brooklyn drawl sound adorable, his unexpected dorkiness and razor sharp wit, how his hands are so calloused but he holds Peter so softly--

Days, Peter could come up with these for days. 

So, it’s not like there’s anything he wishes he could change about their relationship. It’s - they’re - perfect, everything’s been perfect. Bucky’s just so nice, and after Beck, Peter wasn’t sure he’d ever be in a relationship again, let alone one so - so good. So healthy, and so supportive. 

It’s just--

Their sex is so vanilla. Painfully vanilla. The most unconventional Bucky gets is with his dirty talk, and, yeah, Peter loves how his boyfriend will call him his sweet lil boy, and tell Peter how good he takes a thick cock in his tight ass, but that's about as far as Bucky ever goes. 

And that - that isn’t a bad thing, Peter knows that, it’s just. Boring, sometimes, is all.

Peter wishes he could talk to Bucky about it, because the man always stresses communication and talking problems out, but it’s just so embarrassing. Peter’s just thinking about it and he’s flushed, so how could he say the word kink out loud? 

He can’t. He really, really can’t.

So Peter does the only other thing he can think to do.

He steals Bucky’s laptop and rummages for any signs of kink - anything to suggest his boyfriend isn’t as vanilla as it seems. Peter knows he doesn’t have long - Bucky’s out getting takeout from their favorite Thai place, and it isn’t too far - so he doesn’t waste time as he searches all the keywords he can think of in Bucky’s unorganized folders, his internet history that’s never been cleared, the hard drive Peter got him because he complained about memory but Peter was 99% sure he never touched - he was right - and then tries his luck with the recycle bin, but--

There’s not just no sign of kink.

There’s nothing. There’s no porn at all.

Peter’s mind is blown. He hadn’t even considered that he wouldn’t find porn, he thought that everyone watched porn - and unless Bucky knew how to delete specific pages from his browser history, which Peter heavily doubts, because, c'mon - but apparently, Bucky doesn’t.

He considers that, maybe, since Bucky is nearly a decade older than him, he consumes his porn in a different way. Maybe physical movies or, godforbid, magazines.

Peter’s considering looking through Bucky’s drawers and closets until he finds proof of pornography consumption, but then someone’s clearing their throat behind him.

“Jesus, how do you--” Peter exclaims, because it’s nowhere near the first time this six foot hunk of a man has snuck up on him. Then, he glances at the clunky computer in his lap that is obviously not his, and back at Bucky, who’s looking at the laptop, and then at Peter.

“What’re you doin’ with my computer?”

Peter panics, not because Bucky seems upset, because he doesn’t, just - confused, but it’s such a weird thing to be doing, and he can’t lie at all, and this isn’t--

“Does that say porn?” Bucky asks, suddenly leaning over Peter’s shoulder, and he just sounds amused, but Peter goes on the defensive anyway.

“I-It’s just, you never, and I - this isn’t me wanting you to change, or--”

Bucky moves quickly when Peter starts that familiar stress-ramble; he circles around the couch, puts the plastic bag filled with food down on the coffee table and sits next to him, wrapping an arm around his back and shushing him kindly.

“Slow down, doll.” Bucky smiles, sincerity etched in his crow’s feet, “Can’t understand you when you’re talkin’ too fast, remember?”

Peter stops. He nods, then he takes a breath. When he lets it go, Bucky tells him to take a deeper one, so he does, and as he breathes it out, he feels the alarm fade.

Not completely, though. Not with the evidence of his snooping in his lap.

With a glance back at where porn is still typed out in the recycle bin’s search bar and a chuckle, Bucky asks, almost laughing, “What were you doin’, sweetheart?” 

Peter doesn’t expect it, but the fight drains from his body. It’s him accepting his fate, he realizes belatedly.

“I, uh,” Peter pauses, because it’s still so difficult to say the words, “was looking for porn.”

Bucky laughs for real this time, and Peter closes his eyes with a sigh. That wasn’t what he meant to say, at all.

“No - I was looking for y-your porn, like, what you watch,” Peter explains, and Bucky is still laughing, but he waves a hand.

“Yeah, I got that.” He says, making an effort to curb his laughter, “Why, though?”

Peter bites his lip. "Do you watch porn?”

He was scared that meeting Bucky’s question with a question would frustrate the man, but he only looks more amused.

“Why would I?”

Huh?

“What?”

“Why would I watch porn?” Bucky sounds genuinely confused, “We have sex almost everyday.”

Almost, Peter nearly stresses, but catches himself. Obviously, he’s dramatically misread the situation. 

“Y-Yeah, but,” Peter tries to come up with something, anything, “like, maybe, before we dated?”

“I know it’s kinda old, but I got the thing not too long before we met, actually.”

That bit of information also sends Peter reeling, and he almost argues about it - because the laptop isn’t 'kinda old,' it’s ancient - but Bucky speaks before he does.

“Were you lookin’ for the kinda porn I’m into?”

Peter nearly sags with relief. How does he always manage to get it before Peter has to explain? 

“Yeah.”

Bucky’s smile shifts, and it’s - he likes that, Peter notices, and, it’s - it's sexual.

“What, did you wanna tease me?” Bucky licks his lips, “Rile me up?”

Oh. That works, and it’s pretty true, even. Peter can work with that.

He nods. Bucky continues, and he looks so pleased.

“It’s you, sugar,” Bucky brings his hand to Peter’s cheek, and his hold is so gentle, but the calluses are rough, and it’s such a satisfying dichotomy that Peter can’t help but lean into it, “You get me wild.”

If only. Peter’s never seen him be wild. 

But he couldn’t say that. Not when Bucky sounds like he absolutely means it, and it makes Peter’s heart flutter.

Peter has been a bit weird lately. 

Well, Peter is always a bit weird, but it’s a part of his charm. He’s been acting extra weird lately, Bucky’s noticed, and while it’s just as endearing, it’s confusing, too.

He almost calls Peter out on it after he’s found him searching for porn on his computer - more than he had already, anyway - but he just gets so tense when Bucky tries to make him really talk about something. He doesn’t want to bring up that energy - not so late, anyway. 

So Bucky plans to talk to him about it tomorrow.

And Peter thwarts that plan as soon as they wake up. Usually, he’s eager to spend the last day of their shared weekend off together, but before they’ve even had their coffee, Peter’s rushing out the door with the excuse of meeting up with his college friends at a cafe. Not too long later he texted they were going to do an impromptu study group for an upcoming quiz, then, after five hours, texted him they were going to hang out more.  

Bucky tries not to be suspicious of or retaliatory to Peter even more than he’s learned to be with his partners, because the kid’s not had a great track record with boyfriends, to say the least, but this is ridiculous. When he’s been gone for a whole seven hours, under the guise of shoddy excuses, Bucky decides his curiosity needs to be sated more than Peter needs to be coddled, and his new plan is to snoop into Peter’s computer like the kid tried with him. Obviously, if he assumed Bucky would have porn on his laptop, Peter’s got some on his. 

Bucky doesn’t plan to look until Peter texts that he’s on his way home, though. He thinks it’ll be funny if the kid finds himself where Bucky stood last night.

So, after Peter texted that he’s omw, Bucky pulls out his computer. It’s so sleek, thin and light, yet wide, and he hates using it, but he’s dying to know. How much porn could Peter possibly watch, considering how much they have sex, and how busy he’s kept as a student and part-time employee?

Not very much, Bucky assumes.

And holy fuck is he wrong.

He takes a wild guess and searches porn in the convenient - but too bulky, and ugly - search engine in the toolbar, and a stupidly obviously labeled folder, not porn don’t look, comes right up. There’s several subfolders - distinguishing the videos by kink, dear God - and dozens of videos in most of them, over a hundred in a few.

What the fuck.

Bucky’s surprised - Jesus Christ, so surprised - at so many things, but - where the fuck does Peter find the time to watch so much porn? What does it mean that he’s amassed such a collection? How has Bucky never walked in on him watching it? Is there a way to see how many hours of it there are, because it’s a stupidly high amount, definitely--

Bucky takes a breath. He leans back, too, because the little previews are too much to look at, and he takes a moment to appreciate just how understandable it was that Peter was so confused yesterday. It must be unthinkable, to not watch porn, to him. But - Peter’s never even mentioned porn before, not in the half-a-year they’ve been dating, so what was so different about yesterday?

The question has Bucky sitting back up, ready to delve deeper. He starts by reading the names of the folders closer, finding it’s not just organized by kink, but by his favorite pornstars, too. The kid’s got several, all with typical pornstar names, and according to the previews, he’s got a type for big and buff. Checks out.

With another deep, grounding breath, Bucky clicks on the folder name Ultimate Favorites. It’s only got thirteen videos in it, but all the titles are a fuckin’ doozy. It’s shit like Small Twink Fucked Hard, and Daddy Pounds His Boy Until He Cries, and - Jesus fuck - Dom Verbally Abuses Sub While Anally Abusing Him. 

Bucky’s nauseous just reading that last one. He never would’ve guessed Peter was into such rough sex. Not just because the kid gets all wide-eyed and stuttery whenever sex is even mentioned, but because Peter’s just so - soft. In all the ways a person can be, really.

Bucky doesn’t know how to reconcile what he knows Peter to be like with this new information about him. He distantly knows that he doesn’t have to - that Peter’s kinks don't reflect anything about his personality, and acting like they do is only reductive - but the instinct is so strong, he can’t help but fruitlessly try.

Before he can reconsider, Bucky’s clicking on one of the more mildly titled videos - not that any of them are mild at all - just to understand better what Peter’s so into. 

The video loads almost immediately, and it doesn’t waste time with any kind of introduction - there’s suddenly two men on the screen, their size difference resembling Bucky and Peter’s to a ridiculous degree, and the larger one pushes the smaller onto a bed carelessly before climbing on top of him. It’s a bunch of shoving and aggressive groping along with cruel words and name calling, and Bucky’s never been more turned off in his life. He can’t believe this porno is among Peter’s favorites - his boyfriend’s never once let on that this is the kind of sex he’s into.

While he’s staring, Bucky’s on screen lookalike finally quitting with the rough teasing and moving onto the brutal fucking, he hears Peter enter his apartment. Bucky doesn’t mute the video, and Peter’s light footsteps stop immediately. Bucky can just see the look on his face - that caught-in-the-headlights one that makes Peter look more like a deer than Bucky thought a person could - and he stifles a laugh as the steps pick back up, this time much more hesitant. When Peter’s a good foot into the living room, Bucky turns around, acting as if he hadn’t heard him coming in.

With the computer filling the room with sounds of slapping and exaggerated moans, Bucky greets, struggling to keep a smirk off his face,  “Hi, honey. How was your day?”

Peter doesn’t answer him and - yep, there’s that look. Instead, he gapes like a fish at where his computer is steadied on Bucky’s lap, eyes wide and frantic.

“Why’d you never mention this, doll?” Bucky asks, dropping the act as Peter keeps looking like disaster is seconds away. He pauses the video and sets the laptop to the side, motioning for Peter to join him on the couch.

Peter does join him, albeit uncertain and his eyes still trained on the graphic image on the computer screen. He’s quiet as he sits as far as he can from Bucky.

“I--” Peter starts, gaze transfixed on the laptop. “Can you - close that?”

Bucky does. Peter keeps looking at it.

“You okay?” Bucky asks, chuckling.

Peter finally looks at him. He seems scared, Bucky realizes. He closes a bit of the distance between them, leaving some incase Peter feels suffocated, and puts a hand on the back of his neck, a touch Peter always leans into.

He does this time, too. He relaxes some, and Bucky prompts, “Were you scared to tell me?”

Peter relaxes even more, his shoulders falling. He nods. “I know you probably don’t care--”

Bucky interrupts to confirm with a nod of his own, “I don’t.”

“But it’s just--” Peter huffs, eyebrows furrowing, “Embarrassing.”

Bucky nods more. “It doesn’t change how I think about you.” He reassures Peter, “At all.”

“That's good.” Peter breathes, and Bucky can’t help but laugh softly. “I was starting to think it would gross you out.”

It kinda does, but Bucky doesn’t say that. It isn’t important how the porn he’s into makes Bucky feel. 

“No, baby. It doesn’t.”

Peter leans into his side, and Bucky shifts to embrace him. Silence attempts to settle around them, but Bucky can’t help his need to tease.

“So… where’d you find the time to make such a collection?” 

Peter cringes. “I, uh, started it years ago.”

Bucky raises his eyebrows. He doesn’t know why he didn’t assume that - it’s a seriously massive collection - but thinking of how far back years suggests, and how Peter is just twenty-two, he can’t help but ask for clarification.

“How many years you talkin’?”

“Uhh…” Peter trails off, seeming to really think about it. Bucky can see the moment he finds the answer, and his expression closes.  “...several.”

Bucky decides to wager a guess. He doesn’t really know why he wants to know this answer, but he thinks it might help him understand just how into kink Peter is.

“Sixteen?”

Peter whines. “Jamie.”

Bucky’s eyes widen. “Fifteen?”

Peter pulls away a bit to cover his face with his hands, and he whines unintelligibly this time.

“Christ, it wasn’t younger than thirteen, was it?”

Peter shakes his head. “N-No, I--” His words are muffled by his palms,  “I was fourteen.”

Bucky breathes a sigh of relief. Peter can’t lie for shit, so Bucky can tell he isn’t just appeasing him. 

Then it hits him just how long Peter’s been fantasizing about this kind of sex.

“You’re really into this stuff, huh?”

Peter burrows further into his hands. Bucky rubs his back, and considers his next words carefully.

“If you want, we could explore some of the tamer stuff you have in there.” 

Peter drops his hands from his face and he looks excited for all of two seconds. Then, his expression falls. “None of it’s… tame. I mean, I guess--” Peter cuts himself off to cough, wincing as he tries to get the words out, “uh, im-impact play isn’t, you know, hardcore, I guess.”

“Spanking and stuff?”

“...and stuff.” Peter says with a flush. 

“We’ll start with spanking,” Bucky laughs, adding just in case, “if you want to.”

But it wasn’t necessary, because Peter brightens immediately. 

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.” 

Peter smiles wide, and Bucky can’t help but return it with one of his own.

[julieandthefandoms]

Housefull 2 MDZS/The Untamed AU

HELLO THERE MY LOVELIES! I’M MAKING A WILD TUMBLR REAPPEARANCE AND I BRING WITH ME SHINY NEW SHOWS I’VE WATCHED AND PERHAPS THE GREATEST AU I’VE EVER WRITTEN DOWN! 

Okay, so, I’m going to preface this by saying that I finally watched the Untamed over the past summer and now am slightly obsessed. I am also in the middle of reading the novel and watching the animation, so... that’s something.

Anyway, today, I decided that it would be a good idea to rewatch my favorite childhood film, a little Bollywood comedy titled Housefull 2. Upon rewatching this, I realized that the MDZS characters would fit really well into the convoluted mess of this plot and so I wrote a little bullet pointed AU idea thing. 

(I don’t think I’ll have the time to write this, so if anyone wants to use this concept, pleaseeee tag me/tell me about it. Also, if anything like this is already written, pleaseee tell me too, I need the crack content.) (I’m also desi, by the way, so I don’t know much about Chinese culture, so please tell me if anything is offensive or just plain inaccurate.)

So, without further ado, I’ll be presenting this Housefull 2 MDZS/The Untamed AU! 

-As per canon, JZX is emotionally constipated and couldn’t communicate until after his engagement with JYL got split up. Having made their sister cry, JC, WWX, and NHS (who gets roped into it) plan to crush JZX for hurting JYL. 

-They send WQ to crush JZX by breaking his heart but give her such vague instructions that she accidentally falls for Mianmain. 

NHS: “So... who’re we supposed to use to crush this Peacock. I mean, it can’t be any of us.” 

WWX: “I don’t know about y’all, but I’d be great at this mission.” *wiggles eyebrows*

JC *rolls eyebrows*: “I think you forgot that mom will have your head if you do something like this.”

JC: “Hey, you remember her from university?” 

WWX: “Who?” 

JC: “You know, *her*, the one with the needles who could murder anyone and get away with it” 

WWX: *laughing* “Holy hell, the Peacock doesn’t know what’s coming for him!” 

NHS: “And who might this mystery lady be?” He says, knowing exactly who this mystery lady is. 

JC and WWX: “Wen Qing.”

-All the while, JGS thinks that WQ and JZX are engaged because the Idiot Trio sent an envoy ahead that claimed WQ was a head disciple of Jiang and is a replacement for JYL. JGS has now set the engagement of WQ and JZX in August. 

-They find out about Mianmian/LQY and WQ too late, and now JC, WWX, and NHS send someone else, LWJ, to crush JZX’s heart. 

JC: “You can’t continue to do this, what happened to our deal?!” 

WQ: *death glares* “What our deal said was that I needed to woo someone vaguely in relation to the nickname “Peacock” and happened to be in Lanling as payback for JZX breaking your sister’s heart, I don’t think I’m the one who forgot our deal here.” 

JC: “And your first thought was that Mianmian/LQY was Peacock?!” 

WQ: “She’s pretty and a Jin, so…” 

Before there would be a throw down in this place, WWX interrupted: “Okay, WQ it’s alright that you feel for Mianmian/LQY, but who is supposed to help us teach JZX a lesson now?”

NHS: “I don’t know, but it could maybe be someone who’s already close to JZX.” 

JC: “That sounds like a horrible ide- Wait, that’s lowkey kinda genius. Do you remember him from university?” 

WWX: “Him?” 

JC: “Yeah, you know, him, the one who’s entire vocabulary was the syllable “Mn” and whom you pined after for years.” 

WWX *blushing like there’s no tomorrow*: “We can’t send him, he’ll probably send me off to do 50 handstands” 

JC: “Please, he’s do anything you ask him to” 

NHS: *flutters his fan while knowing to an extreme degree what’s going to happen*

-They send WWX as LWJ’s ‘driver’ for him to make sure the plan is on track, but it just ends in LZ/WY pining. JC is also sent there as a businessman since he needs to make sure JGS doesn’t suspect anything too suspicious. At the same time though, because JGS thinks WQ and JZX are engaged and since LWJ spends most of his free time talking to Mianmian/LQY about his hopeless pining, JGS starts to think that Mianmian/LQY and LWJ are to be engaged and plans another engagement. JGS is quick to inform LQR about this and now LQR thinks that his nephew is married to Mianmian/LQY and that they’re getting married in August. 

-At some point here, LXC is in Lanling to visit his bud Meng Yao and that’s when JC and LXC begin talking and stuff. (This can be platonic or romantic, I don’t have a personal preference). 

-Additionally, this is also when WWX and LWJ begin investigating the happenings of Lanling and discover the extent of an asshole JGS is. They'd probably be reported sporadically and NHS definitely sent this evidence to detectives XXC and Song Lan. 

-So far, no one has gotten to properly executing this plan, and JC & WWX are beginning to question things. Because things couldn’t possibly get worse, this is the moment when Madam Yu decides that it’d be a good idea to visit the Jins in order to remind them of their arranged marriage between JYL and JZX. So now, JC and WWX have to drag both LXC and JYL into this convoluted plot because otherwise everything would go horribly wrong. JC, WWX, NHS, JYL, LXC, WQ, LWJ, and Mianmian/LQY (WQ directly told the boys that if they don’t let Mianmian/LQY in on this, she’ll personally shove a needle where it hurts) are in this room together, attempting to processes the absolute mess that has occurred. (Poor JZX is still living obliviously, his father didn’t even tell him that he’s technically engaged to WQ now. JZX is just vibing in confusion and thinks he’s just being buds with LWJ because LWJ is horrible at flirting with anyone that’s not WWX so his job of breaking JZX is... not going well.) In the end, after being on the receiving end of many of JYL’s disappointed looks, JC and WWX convince her to help them with their plot just this once. (She wouldn’t tell anyone that she was secretly pleased, but hey, JYL kept her vengeance deep, deep down low and deserved to exercise it just this once.) 

-(it is important to note here that in this AU, Madame Yu doesn’t know what JZX looks like) 

-The plan would be that LXC would (reluctantly) pretend to be JZX in front of Madam Yu. Additionally, Madame Yu thinks the actual JZX is NHS (because JC panicked and that’s the first name he could come up with when Madam Yu asked who was that kid if LXC was JZX). This was to drive JGS off their tails as he still believed that WQ is engaged to JZX now. (He did email LQR about this as well who now thinks his nephews are now engaged to JYL and Mianmian/LQY, respectively, and are going to be married that August.) This is the part where WWX and LWJ finally start realizing that their feelings are mutual after a pep talk from Mianmian/LQY, LXC, and WQ (who’s pep talk sounded more like a shovel talk) for LWJ and from JC, NHS, and JYL for WWX. This is also when Mianmian/LQY and WQ grow closer and also decide that the rest of the group is useless and team up with NHS to knock some sense into JZX. Finally, JZX becomes less emotionally constipated and confesses to JYL, and because WWX, JYL, and JC think that an intervention from the scariest trio (WQ, Mianmian/LQY, NHS) is apt punishment, they call an end to their payback. (Also partially due to JZX having character growth as different characters grilled him throughout this AU). While this is great for our mains, it can only cause a bunch of shenanigans because of the way the parental figures interpret this situation. 

-JGS and Madame Jin think the pairings are: WQ/JZX, LQY/LWJ, LXC/JYL, WWX/NHS

-Madame Yu thinks the pairings are: JZX (except it’s LXC’s version of JZX)/JYL, LWJ/WWX, LQY/WQ, and (maybe?) JC/NHS (except it’s JZX who got confused for NHS)

-LQR thinks the pairings are: WQ/JZX, LQY/LWJ, and LXC/JYL

-Meanwhile, the pairings actually are: JZX/JYL, LWJ/WWX, LQY/WQ, and (maybe?) JC/LXC

-In conclusion, they’re all utterly fucked. Therefore, they have to bring everyone into this convoluted plot now, and finally JZX’s experiences over the past months make a little more sense to him. While discussing this mess they’ve created, WWX has an idea. 

WWX: “Okay, so, looking at the actual chart of who everyone thinks is who, the biggest disparity is between Madam Yu and JGS’s viewpoints, right? What if we just removed Madam Yu from the equation, make Madam Jin and Madam Yu have a falling out so that Madam Yu won’t be invited to the wedding so that we can focus on one of the false interpretations of all the relationships happening.” 

JC: “Madam Jin and Madam Yu have been the best of friends, how are we supposed to make them hate each other?” 

JYL: “I mean, we could stage something, a betrayal of some sort.” 

NHS: “I’m liking the way you think.”

-So through this plot and NHS’s concerning amount of connections, our group succeeds in breaking apart Madam Yu and Madam Jin’s friendship. JC and WWX also manage to worm their way into convincing the Jins to let JYL marry LXC to “spite Madam Yu’s wish of combining the Jiang and Jin families.” Because of JGS arranging and emailing parents throughout this fic, JYL, JZX, LXC, Mianmian/LQY, WQ, NHS, WWX, and LWJ are basically set to be married in August, except it’s to the wrong person! Soon enough, the wedding day arrives and the gang has a plan: they’ll dress the exact same and have the most elaborate and disruptive headpieces so that their faces are covered. 

(Note: Instead of NHS being part of the people getting married as it should be, JC is replaces him for the actual ceremony. Since the our marrige folks have their faces covered, nobody really notices that JC replaced NHS and is marrying LXC. This can be either because of a marriage of convenience to combine companies, or out of actual feelings. I’m cool with either interpretation in my head. Meanwhile, NHS is out in the crowd and People didn’t him because of his surprisingly useful camouflage fan.) 

-And so, the group sets NHS as their distraction while JC pretends to be NHS for the wedding ceremony. NHS basically knocks into the most expensive vase he can find so that most of the parental figures turn around, giving the group getting married the opportunity to switch places with one another until they’re in the right spot. So, a bunch of stuff happens, Madam Yu barges in to yell about how disgraceful it is for the Jins to go on with this marriage even though they broke the engagement in the first place and betrayed the trust of the Jiang corporation. Madam Yu also just, airs out JGS’s dirty laundry in a real badass way. 

-It’s all chaotic. Hell breaks loose. JGS goes batshit crazy and starts bringing our firearms. And so, basically, everyone ends up hiding behind pillars and stuff, though, eventually, after everyone has to run out of their hiding spot’s because Su She cannot shut the fuck up and keeps getting the other’s exposed, they all pile behind JGS in the world’s worst game combined game of Hide & Seek and Slither.io. It all finally ends when JGS gets arrested for a shit ton of crimes, and everything finally ends with a joint wedding between 8 people, except this time it’s with the right partners. 

So, yeah, that’s the AU that I wrote in a dazed craze in the past 2 hours. I hope it was at least partially understandable. I hope y’all have fun with it! Again, if you know of a fanfic that’s got a similar energy or want to write something similar, please tell me, I need more fanfiction. Also, that last scene is basically a direct copy of this scene from the movie Housefull 2. (I’m sorry though, I can’t find an english subbed version of the scene. :(

[glitteronadumpsterfire]

I'm a fucking wreck rn I haven't been sleeping for a week and I'm getting some rest from the bullshit factory that is my brain only now, but I just wanted to say that last year for me has been saved by tumblr and all the friends I made along the way.

Before you go below the cut, a special thanks goes to the Bee Movie Anon, who, rightfully, I can't tag so I have to say it here in the hope that they'll see it. Your hunger for chaos made me feel a lot of emotions, and I'd have never in any time or space thought that the Bee Movie would be such a prominent part of my life as it is now thanks (read it with a note of sarcasm) to you. Thank you for providing us an infinite amount of both entertainment and suffering, hell, some of the friends I made were because of YOU. I'm still not sure what was your drive to go and start this absurd crusade for the bee movie in the 80s metal fandom, but I don't know, I don't think bee so, I'm not gonna question your ways.

@arnold-layne being the first in line, you kept me sane somehow in the first phases of quarantine and dedicated a lot your time to talk with me and helped me enormously with creativity. If it wasn't for you, that Cyberpunk Comic That Is Kinda Inspired By The Crüe and Shout At The Devil would've been already down the drain. I would've given up probably, because I didn't know how to exted the concept and have an actual plot. A dream that I've been having for literal years wouldn't even have such cool characters with a rich storyline if it wasn't for you. I know I kinda left it after a month or so of intense brainstorming with you, I was literally drained at that point both physically and mentally, but oh boy I haven't forgot about the characters that WE created. How could I after all? Russ being the wreck of a tormented junkie protagonist that he is, Dylan the happy-go-lucky fuck up that seems to do nothing right but with the best intentions, Frankie the runaway sassy and wary androgynous teenager whose gender is a mystery even to themselves, and the epitome of the found family trope, ex gov agent part Japanese, part Russian, part cyborg Vik, whose story isn't still clear yet but we'll give him a very good one, eventually.

You gave me the curiosity to read fanfiction again after literally NINE YEARS of being distant from that part of the fandom and honestly I don't regret it one bit. In fact, I discovered literally my favorite writer in fanfiction. That is you, Arnold. I don't care how frequently you write, I don't care if sometimes you can't do your best. I'll always be there waiting for the next chapter and I'll always think that your art is sublime. I'll have to admit, I don't read your works as often as I should. But it's because I love them so much that I want to always save for later. It's like a drug, or a delicious cake that you want it to last as long as possible so you can enjoy it for much longer (I should be reading your fic more often either way tho like, at least so I can make more art for it. I'll make sure to change that this year and give you the recognition you deserve 🖤).

Everytime I make art, everytime I make a post, I always wait for your name to pop in my notifs. And fuck if I'm happy when I see it, and I rush to read your tags and it always makes my day. Like seriously, you mean so much to me and I admire how you can still be any amount of sane with all you're going through. You're strong as hell, keep going. 🖤

@i-dont-like-rice dude, how can I explain it. You're my best bud here. You're my chaotic sibling from another mother. The other braindead I share the single braincell I have with. The Nikki to my Tommy. Or the Tommy to my Nikki, I'm still not sure which of us is which (I guess I'm Nikki and you're Tommy? lmao it's ironic how even them are an italian and a balkanian) but you get the point. Every interaction we have, I laugh my ass off till my whole body hurts every time. I think I worried my mother and annoyed my sister at least a couple times for bursting out laughing for five minutes straight out of the blue, especially if it was late at night, and all the times, I swear it was because of you. You are as chaotic as you are kind, and it's always so disarming to see you worry or take care of others when you are definitely in a worse situation. Please, be more selfish, goddammit. For your own sake. And be more confident of your art. Draw shit and post it. Who cares if it's not perfect and you hate it and you don't want anybody to see it, it's tumblr, nobody will ever reblog it or give you the well deserved recognition anyway! So it's worth a try isn't it?

@no-stone-no-bone seriously, I'm so glad I met you. You're like the third element of chaos that holds me and Andi together. All three of us are literally unstoppable. You're extremely sweet too and I wish you the best, and DON'T HIDE SHIT IN THE TAGS GODDAMMIT 😂

@white-lightning-625 @viiinceneil I know we really haven't talked much, and we met through unfortunate times, but I'm so glad that something good came out of the chaos and drama, which is being able to talk to you and getting to know you both better. And the fics. My god, the fics. Frankie, I already told you this but MY GOD. I still find it incredible that I've read a fic about a band I didn't even know what they looked or sounded like and I was HOOKED from start to finish. And Katie, I should definitely read more of your works because I love what you've got going on. You're both very sweet and talented with a very distinct, beautiful way of writing and I can't wait to sink my teeth into the pulp of your work, because I know that by now I only scratched the surface.

@awrestlinggirlwholoves80sbands Bruh, conoscere una fan su tumblr the parla la MIA STESSA LINGUA (e che ha pure il mio stesso vero nome lmao cosa sta succedendo)??? Che concetto innovativo!!! Le nostre conversazioni sono sempre disgiunte, ma non importa, adoro ogni nostra interazione. Sei seriamente una delle persone più dolci e gentili che abbia mai conosciuto. La tua creatività stimola sempre la mia. Le tue moodboard sono sempre 👌👌👌 e ogni volta trovo sempre qualcosa che sì, ci avevo pensato, ma mai nel modo in cui lo poni tu, e di solito sono una persona che resta vicina alle proprie idee, ma tu riesci a farmi alterare prospettiva, e trovo questo meccanismo mentale molto affascinante. Ti ricordi lo swapped instruments AU, con Tommy come cantante, no? Giuro che è un concetto a cui penso ancora dopo mesi. Spero di avere la capacità mentale per tradurre quell'idea in arte il prima possibile, perché cazzo, lo adoro troppo

@tattooed-lies thank you for providing the fandom the best gifs in the fucking platform and thank you for giving us the vinikki content that everyone, even if they're not aware, deserves and needs. Thank you for being the only Vince stan that I know. Thank you for being the sweetest person alive 💖

@nbtommylee honestly, I wish I was cool like you. Your sense of humor is impeccable, much like your critical thinking. I have never read something from you that wasn't a valid point. You don't talk shit and that's extremely sexy of you, y'know? And having a "gender dysphoria buddy" to be jealous of our Rockstar Gender Of Choice with is always fun to have, so that's definitely a plus. Can't wait to see (and read!) more of your art, I just love your style so much and you deserve to be Known

@metalmelkor @emometalhead @polka-dot-duff I'm always so happy to see you in my notifs and y'all are oh so very sweet and cool, we haven't talked much but I love every interaction we have, sorry for having the social skills of a stale piece of white bread 🖤

A special thanks goes to @awesomgrlgr8job bc you're literally one of my very first mutuals since I made the decision to make this dumpster fire of a blog and holy shit it's crazy to think about that. I don't even know if we ever interacted that much but it's always such a joy to see you around, ily and I hope you're doing well and thanks for putting up with my clownery for so long 💖

Like seriously, thank you all. I don't even know where I would be without you. Here's to another year of chaos, but only of the good kind 💖

[crygimethydgoode]

Lover’s Fantasia Chapter 5 (Crystal Methyd x Gigi Goode RPDR12) Green Light

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32286397/chapters/80979646

Summary: After Crystal and Gigi’s... adventure in New York City, everything has changed between them. And also, Drag Race Season 12 has premiered! Must be exciting to watch from home. 

honey i’ll be seeing you down every road

March 2020

Between: COVID edition

Gigi had learned to bask in the silence. The streets of L.A. were bare. She was supposed to be doing viewings of every episode at bars, she was supposed to be meeting fans around the country, maybe even around the world, and enjoying her new fame. But instead, Gigi just sat inside the House of Avalon and watched as Covid cases went up and the quarantine extended.

Rosy, Gigi, Symone, and Hunter started going on drives, just to kill time. Sometimes Marko or Caleb would hop in, but most of the time it was just the four of them. Rosy and Gigi sat in the back, Gigi’s favorite seat to see the views. While Symone sat shotgun, navigating Hunter who drove. Rosy had hooked up to AUX and had already hit shuffle on her driving playlist. They drove with all the windows down, letting the wind blow on their faces. Crystal would love this. Crystal. Crystal, who had been silent since New York. They had texted here and there, but only a few short texts that didn’t amount to any conversations. Gigi couldn’t help but assume it was about the kiss.

“Okay but that could be a good or a bad thing,” Symone said to Gigi after Crystal didn’t answer her call.

“Definitely good,” Rosy squealed.

“Definitely bad,” Hunter argued.

“Both?” Rosy suggested.

“None of you are helping!” Gigi yelled, head in hands.

“Maybe she’s reconsidering everything!”

“Or she’s regretting kissing you and now things are awkward,” Hunter quipped.

“You’re both fucking dumb. She’s only been home from press week for two weeks and now she’s in quarantine. Give the girl time to figure her shit out,” Symone said, shutting Rosy and Hunter both up. Gigi remembered why she appreciated Symone so much.

And so Gigi shook the thought of Crystal out of her head and focused on having fun with her friends as they drove around. She felt her phone vibrate in her pocket and was shocked when she saw the caller ID. Widow? Why would Widow be calling Gigi?

“Rosy, turn it down, Widow is calling,” Gigi said. Just as Rosy turned down the music, “Green Light ” by Lorde started playing.

“I do my makeup in somebody else's car”

“Hello?” Gigi asked hesitantly.

“Hi, Geege, how have you been?” Widow sounded cheery. Way too cheery for Widow.

“Great- uhm, yeah no I’ve been great, you?” Hunter shot Gigi a puzzled look, Gigi just shrugged.

“I’ve just been enjoying my quarantine, thinking about learning how to cook...” Widow trailed off.

“And?” Gigi was now suspicious of Widow. If there was one thing Gigi knew about Widow it was she was not one for small talk. If Widow called you, she had something to say.

“And I’ve talked to Crystal a bit, and you’ll never guess who she is quarantining with,” Widow said, mischief ridden in her voice.

“Paul?” Gigi asked, sitting up straighter at the mention of Crystal.

“They’re talking about Crystal! Put it on speaker,” Rosy begged. Gigi hushed everyone before putting Widow on speaker.

“No. She’s quarantined with Lux...” Widow trailed off.

“Oh, cool?” Gigi said. Symone’s jaw dropped, Hunter clasped a hand over his mouth, Rosy screamed.

“No fucking way...” Hunter muttered. Why? It’s just Lux.

“Am I missing something here?” Gigi chuckled awkwardly.

“Jesus Gigi, read between the lines,” Widow laughed into the phone. Crystal was quarantined with Lux. Crystal was quarantined with Lux. Crystal was quarantined with Lux. Crystal was quarantined with Lux and not Paul. Why wasn’t Crystal quarantined with Paul? Why wasn’t Crystal quarantined with-

“Oh,” Gigi said. “OH. Oh my fucking god, holy shit, Widow did Crystal-”

“Yes. Yes, she did. Yes she fucking did. Do what you will with this information,” Widow cackled. Symone had turned around and grabbed Gigi’s hand, a wild grin on her face. Rosy was slapping Hunter over and over again whispering “I fucking told you'' repeatedly. Gigi sat there, stunned.

Crystal Methyd broke up with her boyfriend.

Crystal Methyd broke up with her boyfriend after they kissed in the Uber. Crystal Elizabeth Methyd kissed Gigi Goode, Gigi in the Uber, and maybe, just maybe her lips burned as much as Gigi’s did. Crystal Elizabeth Methyd kissed Gigi in the Uber and it made her lips burn so much she couldn’t bear to kiss Paul anymore. But that was wishful thinking, Gigi knew that. So why did it echo throughout her body, rattling her ribs, pumping blood to her heart, ringing through her ears? It was wishful thinking, but why didn’t it feel like it? Why did it feel all too real?

“I’M WAITING FOR IT THAT GREEN LIGHT I WANT IT”

“Gigi? You with us?” Widow said, snapping Gigi out of her trance.

“What do I do?” Gigi asked.

“Call her!” Symone and Rosy both said together.

“What if she doesn’t pick up? She probably won’t, she might not want to hear from me and I don’t want to push-”

“Jesus Christ, Gigi, fucking call Crystal,” Hunter cut Gigi off.

“Okay, I gotta go Widow! I’m gonna call Crystal,” Gigi said, laughing like an idiot.

“Go! Call her!” Widow said before hanging up.

“Now you fucking listen to me-”

“Shhh! It’s ringing!” Rosy squealed. Okay. Gigi couldn’t go out and blatantly ask her, that would be rude, she’d build up. ‘Ask her how her quarantine is going, ask her how her quarantine is going, ask her how-’ and then Crystal picked up, and Gigi’s heart dropped. She was silent. Rosy slapped her.

“Hi,” Gigi said a second too late.

“Hello?” Crystal giggled. Gigi relaxed at just the sound of Crystal’s voice. What was she going to ask again?

“You broke up with Paul,” Gigi blurted.

“Jesus Christ-” Symone sighed. Gigi heard a laugh that wasn’t Crystal’s, it was Lux.

“Yeah... yeah I did,” Crystal chuckled. Her voice sounded warm, Gigi melted.

“I- uhm was just chatting with Widow and it came up in conversation,” Gigi lied.

“Did it now?” Crystal questioned, but she didn’t sound angry or annoyed, she sounded...happy? Or Gigi hoped she did.

“Yeah and I just thought I’d... give you a call?” she said, covering her face with her hand as if Crystal could see her. Crystal and Lux both burst out laughing.

“You’re a terrible liar, Gigi Goode,” Crystal wheezed.

“Shut up...” Gigi hoped Crystal couldn’t hear her grinning over the phone. She caught Hunter’s eye, for once he wasn’t giving Gigi a pointed look, but a smile. “Well, I hope this quarantine doesn’t last too long, cause I think I need to pay you a visit soon,” Gigi said. Again, Symone’s jaw dropped, Hunter’s hand clasped over his mouth, and Rosy AND Lux screamed.

“Sounds like a plan,” Crystal whispered into the phone.

“Okay,” Gigi giggled.

“Okay.”

“Alright, I’m driving with Rosy, Hunter, and Symone so I’m gonna let you go,” Gigi said.

“Okay, bye Gigi,” Crystal whispered.

“Bye.” Gigi hung up the phone. The car was silent for a few moments until-

“Holy fucking shit-”

“Did that actually just happen?-”

“Guys I’m crying-”

“Rosy was actually right-”

“Oh my fucking god-”

Gigi just sat there, not even hearing what any of her friends were saying over one another. She just looked ahead at the streetlight shining green.

April 2020

One month. One month of quarantining, hand sanitizer, and wearing masks. Life had become so mundane, Gigi missed going to the grocery store. Wasn’t this supposed to be one of the best times of her life? Every Friday night Gigi got to sit in the House of Avalon and watch herself on TV, her fanbase growing every day. Why was she so bored, despite the fact that she was so busy?

Once Drag Race aired, Gigi’s life became a whirlwind of digital press interviews, photoshoots, Instagram Lives, and everybody in the country suddenly knowing who she was. Not to mention, they were starting to prepare for the finale, which unfortunately had to be held at home, all recorded on Grant’s iPhone. And it was really hard to enjoy it. COVID was still tearing through the world, and Gigi was stuck at home, quarantining with the House of Avalon. While she loved everyone, Gigi had lost nearly everything that was so fun about being on the show. No traveling, filming the finale, hosting watch parties, none of it.

And she never got to go to Springfield, to see Crystal. Crystal. Who was quarantined with Lux and her roommate. Because Paul was... out of the picture. Gigi didn’t know much. But Rosy and Symone had come to the conclusion that Crystal kissed Gigi, knew she was in too deep, that she couldn’t just get over her, and broke things off with Paul. And Gigi couldn’t help but agree.

Even Hunter didn’t object to what they said. Because... Crystal kissed Gigi. And then Paul was gone. It was real. Crystal wasn’t just a stupid crush Gigi had to get over. Hunter didn’t warn Gigi about getting her heart broken anymore. Gigi didn’t lie in bed and wonder if Crystal liked her. No. Now she laid in bed and thought about what it would be like when she finally got to see Crystal. If only fucking COVID would just end.

But Gigi could wait. In the meantime, she would enjoy Drag Race as much as possible. The fans were really eating up the season. Especially since everyone was so bored, locked inside. But the issue was, there wasn’t that much crazy drama this season. In the beginning, there was some drama but it was usually resolved within an episode. Gigi blamed Jackie for being so mature and bossy. And also, the girls just loved each other.

As the show progressed and they got closer, they basically just held hands and sang Kumbaya during Untucked. Gigi had fun, she loved it. But without the drama Drag Race was used to, the fans needed something else to cling to. And one of those things was Crystal and Gigi. Well- their... relationship? Flirtationship? The producers hadn’t even noticed it. But Gigi noticed. Gigi’s mom noticed. Everyone in the House of Avalon noticed. And so did everyone on Twitter. And then of course Crystal and Gigi added fuel to the fire on social media because they were bored and it was funny and… partially true. Anyways.

Crystal was so excited, immediately telling Gigi that they were the next Larry Stylinson, and needed to do this right because Crystal understood what the fans wanted. “Because Larry was amazing but it fucking hurt, Gigi. I can’t go through another Babygate,” she said one Friday night over FaceTime.

All Gigi could do was laugh. The fans had already become so taken with the ship. And once the Untucked moment of them nearly kissing was aired, it only got stronger.

There were people who genuinely believed that Crystal and Gigi were actually in a relationship. But those fans had no idea what was actually going on between them.

  If only they knew. If only they knew. If only they knew.

But then again, Gigi also had no idea what was going on between her and Crystal. Other than the fact that she was given strict orders from the Drag Race producers that she couldn’t confirm or deny their relationship. And that she missed Crystal so much. She felt worlds away. All Gigi wanted was to go through their conjoined door, and crawl into bed with Crystal. Things had been so much easier, so much simpler in the summer. But it was spring now. Drag Race was worlds away too, forever just a memory.

But Gigi would see Crystal soon. Eventually, COVID would be over. It had to be. How long could it really last? Gigi really hoped things would be better by summer, at least. They had to be.

July 2020

Things didn’t get better by summer. Thanks to useless politicians and assholes in America refusing to follow COVID guidelines, Gigi was still stuck in L.A. in July. No Pride, no 4th of July barbecues, still no Drag Race tours, performances in clubs, trips to Springfield.

Gigi also hella lost Drag Race which she was actually okay with. Of course she wanted to win. But Gigi was so happy for Jaida and filled with so much love for all of her Season 12 sisters, she was just grateful she ever got the chance to go on Drag Race.

But still, she was aching to perform live, to see Crystal and everyone else again. And then one afternoon in early July, Gigi got a Facetime call from Jaida Essence Hall that left her glowing gold with hope.

“GIGIIIIIIIIII!” Jaida, the reigning queen of season 12 yelled into the phone.

“JAIDA!” Gigi screamed back, so excited to see her season twelve sister again, even if it was just through the phone. “I miss you bitch!”

“Miss Gigi Goode I miss you too! And that’s why I’m calling you! Gimme one second, I’m trying to add Crystal to the call,” Jaida muttered, looking down at her phone. Suddenly Crystal’s face was on the screen too.

“JAIDA!!!” Crystal cheered, and everything felt right in the world again. “Hi Gigi!” Crystal added, waving into the camera. They had just Facetimed the night before, but Gigi still couldn’t get over how beautiful Crystal was. Still couldn’t get over how happy she was to see her.

“Now listen bitches,” Jaida said, getting their attention back. “I miss y’all! And if you didn’t know, I am going on tour with Drive N Drag. So I thought, at one of our stops, you two could come join me on the tour. We’ll perform together, drink together, maybe you two will make out or something. It’ll be so fun! Say yes,” Jaida said quickly, and Gigi didn’t have to think about it for even a second. And Crystal didn’t either. Because they both started screaming, yelling that yes of course they’ll come. Of course. “OKAY WAIT WHAT CITY ARE Y’ALL COMING TO THOUGH?” Jaida had to yell over them.

“Chicago!” Crystal immediately said. “It’s semi-close to me, and Gigi can see her family! And I really wanna see Chicago. It’ll be nice,” Crystal explained, and Gigi didn’t bother hiding her fond smile.

“Crystal…” Gigi muttered, and she didn’t remember the last time she smiled this big, the last time her chest had ached like this.

“Alright it looks like you two are about to have a moment, so I’m gonna get out of here. Chicago is the first weekend in August! I’ll send you the dates, and you’ll be emailed all the information soon. You should do a little dance together or something! Bye bitches I love you!” Jaida quickly hung up, and it was just Crystal and Gigi FaceTiming now.

“So… I guess I’ll see you the first week of August,” Crystal said slyly, and Gigi could feel her heart beating in her chest, could feel tears welling in her eyes.

Finally finally finally    

“I’ll see you the first week of August, Miss Crystal Elizabeth,” Gigi sang, and they were both silent for a moment, just looking at each other. Gigi hadn’t seen Crystal since February. And now, in less than two months, they would be spending nearly a week together. “How have we gone so long without seeing each other? Being away from you like this… just doesn’t make sense. We’re not supposed to be apart like this. It’s not fair,” Gigi breathed.

“I know,” Crystal said, somewhat sadly. But Gigi could still see how excited she was.

“I don’t wanna bring the mood down though. I'M GONNA SEE YOU IN LESS THAN TWO MONTHS BITCH!” Gigi exclaimed, and they were both yelling again, just so excited. So excited. So ready. They talked for a little bit, already making plans for all the places Gigi wanted to take Crystal. And then it was time to say bye.

“Well Gigi… I’ll just say this,” Crystal began, a glint in her eye. “After all this time apart… after all these nights alone just… just missing you. Wishing you were with me… I’ll see you soon. We’re gonna see each other, we’re gonna be TOGETHER, and the wait will have been worth it. Because we’re worth the wait,” Crystal said softly, and Gigi really didn’t want to cry. But Crystal wasn’t making it easy.

“I’ll see you soon,” Gigi whispered, and soon they hung up. And so she started counting down the days until Chicago. And although she didn’t know it, so was Crystal. And Gigi knew, things would truly never be the same after Drive N' Drag.

[ghost-in-the-hella]

Since you wrote this beautiful Valentine's story a while ago, are you gonna do the same thing for Easter maybe? :) Greetings, Doe

Thank you! If you only knew how many unfinished holiday amberprice and/or pricefield fanfics I have sitting in my google drive... I’ve been sitting on an amberprice Thanksgiving fic and a Halloween fic for something like two years now, plus I’ve got bits and pieces of other Halloween ones, a couple of Valentine’s ones for both amberprice and pricefield, a post-Bae ending pricefield multi-holiday fic, and on and on and on...

But here’s an Easter amberprice (I’m assuming that’s what you’re asking for) I just cranked out in, like, an hour or so. I haven’t so much as reread it and I normally agonize over my holiday fics for days if not weeks (or even years) so it’s very probably riddled with typos, repetitive phrases, and other nuisances. I hope you enjoy it nevertheless. (Oh, incidentally, it’s supposed to be a phone conversation between Rachel and Chloe, which I don’t think I made at all clear in the fic itself)

---

“I thought you were the one who’s all into holidays and stuff. I mean, you dragged me out to that Blackhellaween party, you made me celebrate Valentine’s Day for the first time since I was a kid, you--”

“I like Valentine’s Day because it’s romantic, and Halloween is all about costumes and drama. Easter is just… boring.”

“A giant rabbit travels all over the world breaking into people’s houses and crapping out eggs and candy, and that’s boring to you?”

“...Chloe. You’re seventeen years old. Are you seriously telling me that you still believe in the Easter Bunny??”

“Uh, no, but I seriously believe in candy! And breaking into people’s houses.”

“Well, that would definitely make Easter more exciting around here…”

“I gather your folks aren’t the ‘dressing up as the Easter Bunny to surprise the kid with candy’ types.”

“Um, what? Is that a thing??”

“It was a thing when my dad was alive.”

“Oh my god. Oh my god, you’re not serious.”

“Hella fucking serious, cross my heart and hope to die. Every year we’d stay up past midnight watching Saturday Night Live together, right?”

“Uh-huh…”

“So every year a little before midnight, my dad would start yawning and stretching, and then he’d claim he’s too tired to watch the rest and he’d go off to bed. Then, like, fifteen minutes later there’d be a knocking at the door.”

“Oh my god. You’re kidding me.”

“I’m not creative enough to make something like this up.”

“Untrue, but go on.”

“Okay, so my mom would act all mystified about who could possibly be knocking on our door so late - she’s a shit actor, by the way - and would ask me to get the door. Y’know, like any responsible parent would ask their young daughter to do after midnight when a strange knocking sounds on the door.”

“You were how old?”

“I don’t remember when he started; I was probably, like, four. He kept doing it until he died, so I was, like, fourteen the last time.”

“Holy shit.”

“Anyway, so I’d open the door, and there would be this-- haha-- this-this fuckin’... giant rabbit-- ha, god, he was such a dork…”

“Ha-ha-h-holy shit, no way--”

“Yes way; there’d be this fuckin’ huge, like, six-foot-- hah-- pink bunny with a --hahhh-- basket full of candy--”

“Hahahah, oh my god, Chloe--”

“Hahhhh… ahhh… God.”

“Holy fuck.”

“Yeah…”

“That’s amazing. He was still doing that when you were fourteen??”

“Yeah, he’d probably still be doing it. I’d be, like, begging him not to - I’m too old for this, you’re such a dork, blah blah blah - and he’d just… do it anyway. And then, of course, the rabbit would leave, and my dad would come back downstairs ten minutes later to ask us if anything strange happened.”

“He did not.”

“He did.”

“Wow. Yeah, I cannot imagine either of my parents ever doing anything like that.”

“James Amber in a bunny suit is something his political rivals would probably pay good money to see.”

“I’ll bet. I don’t think the stick up his butt would fit into one, though.”

“Hah, good point.”

“So did your dad, like, rent the costume every year, or did he actually own an Easter bunny costume?”

“No idea. I think it was the same one every year, so he probably owned it. It’s probably in a box in the attic somewhere, assuming it hasn’t been donated or trashed to make room for Step-dick’s stuff. He just loved doing stuff like that, though. He’d dress up as Santa, too. I believed in Santa for probably an embarrassing amount of time because of that.”

“That’s adorable.”

“Adorably dorky.”

“Just the way I like it.”

“Lucky me. So what does your family do, then?”

“We go to church.”

“Oh.”

“Yup.”

“‘Kay. I mean, we used to do that, too, but we also did, like, Easter egg hunts and stuff.”

“And bunny costumes, apparently.”

“You know it! So, like, no baskets, no candy, no dying eggs, nothing? Just church?”

“My mom makes pysanky.”

“...She what now?”

“She uses wax to make really ridiculously elaborate and ornate Easter eggs with traditional Ukranian designs.”

“Uh, wow. That sounds… cool?”

“They’re beautiful. She’s really, really good at it. She taught me how to make them years ago, but mostly she just does it herself. It takes a lot of patience and a steady hand. I usually lose patience.”

“So not exactly a fun family bonding activity.”

“Not exactly, no.”

“I’m guessing they don’t hide them around the house for you to find…”

“They sit in an artfully arranged row on the mantel.”

“Ah.”

“And then we dress up in our ‘best’ clothes and go for the traditional family photo op at church. James hobnobs with his political frenemies, Mom and I do our best to look like the perfect, happy family, and then we go home and I try to scrub the dirty feeling of lies out of my skin.”

“That’s… Wow. Fuck, Rach.”

“You guys did Easter egg hunts?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, we did. Max would come over the night before and we’d dye eggs together and make a huge mess. Then she’d have to go home because her parents wanted her home for Easter, but she’d come over again the next day after church. My dad would’ve hidden plastic eggs all over the house and yard, and Max and I would spend at least an hour looking for them. They were full of toys and candy and stuff. It was awesome.”

“That sounds really nice.”

“It was. So, wait, you’ve never had an Easter egg hunt? Like, ever?”

“Never.”

“That’s hella tragic, dude.”

“It is what it is. I rock the shit out of Halloween, at least.”

“I mean, yeah, you do, but--”

“It’s fine, Chloe. Seriously, not every holiday has to be a big deal.”

“Yeah, that’s true, I guess. Last few years have been hella boring, to be honest. Like, your Easter sounds exciting compared to mine these days. Mom and the Step-douche gave up on even trying to drag me to church, so I’ll just be hanging out here all day. I’d probably just embarrass them, anyway.”

“That sucks. But hey, I’ll come see you after church tomorrow, right? So that’s already better than our last Easters.”

“...Yeah. Yeah, that’s true. Hey, you wanna meet at the junkyard tomorrow? Trash up your best clothes?”

“Fuck yes. I’ll see if I can smuggle some wine out of church.”

“If anyone can do it, you can. I believe in you, Rachel Amber.”

“Ha, like you still believe in the Easter Bunny?”

“...Fuck, you’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?”

“Aw, what kind of a friend would I be if I did?”

---

(As a personal side note, no, my dad did not dress up as the Easter Bunny. My older cousin did, though. Every year she’d go out to sleep over at a friend’s house, and then in the middle of the rest of us watching SNL together we’d get a “surprise visit” from the Easter Bunny. We’re Jewish, btw.)

[echoes-of-the-clockwork]

Deacon St. John || Someone Worth Living For

A/n: I can thank my sissy for this idea! Love you, sis! Gonna drop a warning for a couple of sensitive topics.

⚠️MENTIONS OF DEPRESSION AND SUICIDE. DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER IF THESE TOPICS ARE SENSITIVE OR TRIGGERING⚠️

Besides that, I hope you all enjoy! Love you all!!! ••••••••••••••••••••

***HAS NOT BEEN PROOFREAD! PLEASE NOTIFY ME OF ANY ERRORS!!!***

***** Prompt: Deacon and Boozer come across a massacre of people in the middle of the highway. While searching for who could've committed such an act, they discover you—the lone survivor of the massacre. *****

~3rd Person POV~

Deacon and Boozer drove their bikes through the Cascade region, taking in the fresh air that was tainted every now and then with the foul smell of Freaks and rotting corpses. The trees rustled in the breeze, creating a peaceful ambiance until the sound of infected ravaged the tranquil atmosphere. 

On the highway near Horse Creek, the drifters braked harshly when a gruesome sight laid before them. Bodies scattered across the road and blood seeping into the cracks of the asphalt created a small blockade. The heavy stench of iron filled the air from the immense amount of blood painting the highway and abandoned cars alongside the shoulder.

"Jesus..." Boozer sighed in disbelief, eyes wide in horror. "Who the hell could've done this?"

Deacon dismounted his bike and slowly approached the bloody massacre. He kneeled beside one of the victims, examining the deep gashes and three letters carved into his forehead. "Fucking Rippers. That's who did this."

"Murdered all these people in cold blood... I've never seen them kill this many people at once, though," Boozer commented as he cautiously stepped over the bodies of the deceased.

"Yeah, well..." Deacon stood up with a scrunched up nose from the smell of blood. "Rippers always know how to hit an all-time low. The bodies are a few hours old."

"Which means they couldn't have gotten far," Boozer adds.

"You up for some Ripper hunting?" Deacon inquired.

"Always am, brother," he responded with a smug grin.

When the drifters turned on their heels to return to their motorcycles, a hand lunged out and gripped onto Deacon's ankle. Frightened by the unexpected touch, he whipped out his handgun and aimed it by his foot with a fierce glare. Seeing who the hand belonged to, his eyes widened and he swiftly withdrew his pistol. "Holy shit..."

"Please..." The woman begged, voice hoarse and weak. "Kill me..."

Deacon was flabbergasted at her request. "What—no. No, no, no, no. We're gonna get you help." He examined her tattered, bloodied body. By the way she was crawling, he knew she couldn't walk. "Boozeman!"

William heard Deacon's shout and ran over. He spotted the woman on the ground, who was struggling to keep her eyes open. "Jesus... She's still alive."

"We need to get her to Cope's. It's the closest encampment with medical supplies," Deacon said as he hoisted the injured woman to her feet. He grabbed one of her arms and tossed it across his shoulders while his other arm went around her waist to keep her from tripping.

"They don't have a proper doctor," Boozer brought to light. "Her best bet of surviving is Lost Lake. Addy's the only person who can help her."

"She can't possibly make the trip in her current state." Deacon slowly helped the woman over to his bike with Boozer a few feet behind in case he needed help. "We'll take her to Cope first and see what someone can do. Once she can handle the ride, we'll take her to Addy. Hopefully it won't be too late."

Deacon and Boozer helped the woman mount the motorcycle, desperately trying not to aggravate the numerous of wounds littered across her body. She was able to maintain a grip on the sides of the bike to steady herself as Deacon swiftly claimed the seat in front of her. With impuissant arms, she wound them around his waist and slumped her body against his back. Her blood smeared on the back of the cut and Deacon could feel the warm, crimson liquid seeping through. He didn't care if the blood would stain his clothes. He was more worried about her bleeding out before they reached Copeland's Camp.

On the drive to the encampment, Deacon kept the woman awake by asking her questions. "What's your name?"

"(Y/n)," she replied feebly. "Who're you two?"

"Name's Deacon. That's Boozer," the drifter nodded towards his fellow Mongrel. "What happened out there?"

"We are... were just a group looking for a safer place to stay. Rippers attacked us on the highway, and they tortured us for hours. When no one would join them, they went straight to killing us."

"How did you survive?" He inquired curiously with a hint of amazement in his voice.

"Playing dead is easy when you feel like you're dying," she solemnly answered. "The pain... it's unbearable—mentally and physically. All those people... they were my family. And now, they're all dead."

"I'm... I'm sorry you had to go through that," Deacon responded melancholically.

(Y/n) lowered her gaze, (e/c) eyes locking onto the firearm tethered to his thigh. Her fingers twitched as her mind raced to how she would grab it without alarming Deacon. "You've nothing to apologize for. It's not like you're one of the Rippers who killed them." Slowly, she unlatched one of her hands from the front of his cut and slithered it towards the handgun. The metal glinted in the sun, tempting and taunting her further.

By the time she curled her fingers around the grip of the pistol, the bike suddenly came to a halt in front of Copeland's Camp. (Y/n) mentally cursed herself for prolonging the inevitable and moved her hand back to the drifter's cut as the gate slid open. Deep down, she believed she'd either take her own life or bleed out before the day ends.

Even though (Y/n) took her time to dismount the bike, the second her feet touched the ground, her entire world spun and the edges of her vision were splotched with darkness. Her body tilted forward, but Deacon caught her before she could collapse to the ground. "Shit... This is bad," he muttered with a small growl.

"I'll find someone. You just try to keep her awake." Boozer stormed off in search of anyone with medical knowledge.

Deacon watched (Y/n)'s head lull to the side helplessly. Scooping her up in his arms, he carried her over to Manny's workshop. "Clear a table!"

Manny was perplexed as to the drifter's demand, but he didn't argue due to his slight fear of the man. "Over here!" He pushes everything off one of the many tables scattered around his work area and helped Deacon rest (Y/n)'s body on the metal surface. "What happened to her?" The mechanic questioned, eyes dancing across the numerous of cuts and large amount of blood covering her body.

"A damn massacre. Rippers took out a group of maybe twenty to twenty-five people. She's the only survivor," Deacon replied, eyes glued to (Y/n). He saw her eyelids drooping and his heart raced with concern at the sight. He smacked the side of her cheek to rouse her from falling victim to the darkness. "Hey, hey, (Y/n). You've gotta stay awake, alright? Boozer'll be back with help any second now."

Two pairs of rushing footsteps splashed through the mud over to the workshop. One man was Boozer while the other was a man who seemed to be in his late forties. In his arms was a cardboard box of medical supplies. He placed it on the table by (Y/n)'s feet and immediately took out what all he needed. He eyed the three other men around him. "I'm going to need all three of you to help. Grab a cloth and wet it with hydrogen peroxide. We need to clean all the wounds to keep them from getting infected, but it's all we'll be able to do for her."

"She's still losing blood. You don't have any stitches?" Deacon questioned.

"I do, but it's not enough to close all her wounds," the man explained.

"Use them. Lost Lake has a real doctor who can help. We just need her to be in a condition where she'll make it there alive," Deacon responded, beginning to clean the shallow cuts along her left arm and neck.

Boozer handled the wounds along her left leg while the man and Manny handled the right side of (Y/n)'s body. As they purged the numerous cuts of germs, the woman's lips twitched as she weakly tried to keep herself from crying out. She bit the inside of her cheek while gripping the side of her shorts to fight against the urge to scream.

"You three are gonna have to hold her down while I stitch up the deeper wounds," the unnamed man said as he threaded the surgical needle. He glanced at (Y/n), who was looking at him with half-lidded eyes. "I'm not gonna lie—this is gonna hurt. We don't have anything to numb the cuts."

"J-Just get it over with," she whimpered.

As the man stitched up her wounds, (Y/n) lost consciousness.

<———————————<<<<<<<<<<

A few hours passed before (Y/n) stirred from her unconscious state. She could hear voices and spot a couple of blurry figures as she slowly opened her eyes, her vision beginning to clear up. The only person she recognized was Deacon. He was standing beside a woman, their voices melding together as they argued.

"She needs to go to Lost Lake as soon as possible, Deek," the woman in the green jacket said.

"She can't handle the ride, Rikki," Deacon replies vehemently.

"The longer you keep her here, the less time Addy has to prevent her from kicking the bucket!" The woman, Rikki, retorts.

(Y/n) couldn't stand their arguing and pushed her body up into a sitting position. The tinges of pain from the stitches, cuts, and bruises caused her to wince as she swung her legs over the side of the table. She still was knocking on Death's door and wanted him to answer before she picked the lock and invited herself in. Staggering as she walked away from the argument, (Y/n) searches for a way out of the camp before Deacon notices. In her head, she kept apologizing to the drifter and his friend for help, but she felt her life was over. With the only family she had now dead, she felt nothing but emptiness.

(Y/n) managed to exit the camp with some persuasion and lying. The woman guarding the gate opened it and allowed her to leave. Gradually, she walked down the dirt road and didn't look back. Reaching the highway after what felt like a long walk, her entire body was screaming in pain. Her mind was blank as she pushed through the agony and trudged down the Santiam Highway. She prayed a Freaker would come along and end her suffering, but not even a Newt was in sight.

The sound of a motorcycle speeding down the road grabbed (Y/n)'s attention. The noise crescendoed, signaling the bike was getting closer. She knew exactly who it was, but she ignored the ruckus and pushed forward.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Deacon shouted as he pulled his bike in front of (Y/n), blocking her path. The woman didn't answer and walked around the motorcycle. He briskly dismounted his bike and stalked after her. "You've got a death wish?"

(Y/n) abruptly stopped. She spun around, facing the drifter with a few tears streaming down her cheeks. "As a matter of fact, I do!" Deacon was utterly shocked and froze as he listened to her sudden outburst. She swallowed the lump forming in her throat and exhaled shakily. "Those people weren't just another group to me! They were my family! I lost everything when the outbreak happened. My husband, my daughter, my sister... Everything! They were... They were the first thing I had that was actually real in this fucked up world. What's the point in living if the one thing worth living for is dead?"

Unbeknownst to (Y/n), her words struck a chord deep inside Deacon. He knew exactly how she felt, but unlike her, he still had Boozer. All she's ever known since the world crumbled into pieces was gone. Anyone who knew of such pain would be desperate to find a way out of the hellish world they lived in.

"Wandering off in hopes something or someone will kill you is never the answer, (Y/n)," Deacon retaliates.

"It may not be the answer, but it's the only way the suffering will end," she retorts with a bland chuckle. "Why should I give a shit about a world where everyone I've ever loved is dead? By the look on your face, I can tell you've lost someone, too."

"I'm not gonna let you kill yourself and that's final. Get on the damn bike," he commanded. "We're going to Lost Lake. Addy will be able to take a better look at you."

(Y/n) bit her tongue knowing she wouldn't win against the hardheaded drifter. "Fine."

Deacon's body visibly relaxed as he heard her response. He took a deep breath, calming his racing heart. He watched closely as the woman passed him and mounted the motorcycle before joining her. He started up the bike, revving the engine. Mentally, he prayed Addy would be able to heal (Y/n) and rid her of these venomous thoughts that plagued her mind.

<———————————<<<<<<<<<<<

It's been almost nine months since then. Addy was able to heal all of (Y/n)'s injuries with the medical supplies she had access to at Lost Lake. Scars were scattered across the (h/c)-haired woman's body from where the Rippers had sliced her flesh during the attack.

Deacon visited (Y/n) every chance he was given to see how she was doing. The two grew closer as she traveled down the long road of healing. On the outside she was happy, sweet, and kind. But underneath, she was still a complete mess. Addy had warned the drifter of (Y/n)'s deepening depression and how she was no longer allowed in the infirmary due to the myriads of sharp objects. The doctor discovered her inside the building trying to stab herself with a knife, resulting in her ban.

One day, Addy has been searching for (Y/n) when Deacon rode into the camp. He saw the frightened and frantic expression on the doctor's face as she rushed around. "What's going on?"

"I can't find (Y/n). She was supposed to see me this morning so I could give her another checkup, but she hasn't shown up."

Rikki wandered over when she heard Addy's flustered voice. "If you're looking for (Y/n), Buzz said he saw her riding out of camp about an hour ago. Is there a problem?"

"(Y/n)'s completely unstable. These past few days, I've had to keep her locked in one of the cabins to keep her away from anything and everything she could possibly use to hurt herself. God only knows what she'll do to herself out there." Addy eyed Deacon with a frown. "Deek, I need you to find her and bring her back safely."

"Already ahead of you, Doc." The drifter returned to his bike with Rikki and Addy close behind.

"Listen to me, Deek," Addy begged. "You're the only one who can snap her out of it."

"I'm not a doctor," he counters.

"I've seen the way you look at her. Tell her before you lose someone else you care about. Be careful when approaching her. Who knows what she'll do."

Deacon fell silent before replying with a small nod. "I'll bring her back."

"Radio us when you find her," Rikki added.

"Will do."

Deacon left Lost Lake Camp and followed (Y/n)'s trail all the way back to the Cascade region. He discovered one of Lost Lake's bike exactly where he and Boozer discovered the massacre. The blood had been washed away from the constant rainfall in the past few months. What baffled him the most was all the bodies were missing. He ignored his curiosity and kept his sights set on (Y/n).

Trekking down the small incline, Deacon searches the woods for the woman. He weaves through the thick foliage, following the boot imprints in the saturated ground. Upon entering a small clearing, the drifter spotted a familiar silhouette looming over fresh piles of dirt. He cautiously approached (Y/n), remembering what Addy told him before he left. When he was only a few feet away, she turned around when she heard him shuffle through a pile of leaves. "Hey, Deek."

The casual greeting caught Deacon off guard. He discarded his caution when he saw the calm expression on her face. He stood beside (Y/n) and peered at the sight before him. "Are these...?"

"Graves—yes. I came out here today to finish the markings."

Deacon stared at the numerous of graves, noting the markers were made from carved stone. He pointed to the dirt piles with slightly widened eyes. "You did all this?"

"It took a few months, but I finally finished a few days ago. I've been sneaking out of the camp at night to come here. Buzz has been covering for me," (Y/n) replied. "And before you ask, I'm fine. Addy's kinda blowing my condition out of the water. Did she tell you about the knife incident?"

"No, she didn't."

"I went into the infirmary one day to find a knife to carve the stones, but she completely misinterpreted it completely. And that's how I was banned from the infirmary." She kneeled down and placed a stone on the grave in front of her. "I... I appreciate all of what you've done for me, Deacon. It took nine months for me to finally say it. Better late than never, I guess."

"Yeah, well, I'm not good at expressing myself, either," he comments.

(Y/n) grinned with a chuckle and nudged her elbow into his side playfully. "Oh, I know. You suck at it. Although, I've gotta admit—you're very blunt and to the point."

Deacon smirked at her response. "Not like you've got room to talk."

The woman shrugged her shoulders. "Too true. Guess we've got something in common."

Their conversation ended, sparking an awkward silence. (Y/n) inhaled deeply before exhaling. She circled around the graves, leaves and branches crunching under her boots. She rearranged a few of the markers before brushing her hands together to rid her hands of dirt. "Guess we better head back to Lost Lake to keep Addy from sending an army after us." She swiveled on her heels and headed towards the highway.

Deacon outstretched his arm and grabbed ahold of her arm before she could walk away. "Before that..."

"Oh, no..." (Y/n) sighed worriedly. "Did Addy say something else?"

"Uh..."

She raised her eyebrows, the corners of her mouth quirking upward. "She did! What was it?"

The drifter glanced down at the ground, rubbing the back of his neck. He pondered whether if now was truly the perfect time to tell (Y/n) his feelings for her or if he should wait a little longer.

The woman's eyes narrowed then suddenly shot wide open when she recognized the expression. "Wait, I know that look." She smirked like a child who just was told a little secret. "It's the same look my husband gave me when he was trying to ask me out for the first time. Do you... like me?"

Deacon scoffed, trying to play it off. "Of course not."

"Aw, that's a shame," (Y/n) falsified a pout. It was quickly rewritten with a smug grin. She grasped onto the front of his cut with both hands and yanked him down to her height, pressing her lips against his in a chaste kiss. It was a short kiss, but it was enough to satisfy both individuals.

(Y/n) released her grip on Deacon, the familiar smirk returning to her face as she admired the speechless and petrified drifter in front of her. "Because I like you way more than a friend. It's thanks to you that I've been able to work past the depression. It's still there, but you always know how to make me feel better." She took a few steps past him before turning to glance at him over her shoulder, smiling beautifully. "I've found someone worth living for again."

[carry-the-sky]

karen runs.

(for the lovely @thestarsbeyondthestorms and @edourado​, who requested ‘things you said with too many miles between us’ and ‘things you said on the phone at 4am’. UH THIS PROMPT COMBO. RIP ME. also posted on ao3.)

She’s had a bag packed since Fisk moved out of prison and into the penthouse. All she has to do is use it.

.

.

There are flowers, on the kitchen table. White roses. Not the ones he’d given her, but they may as well be. She can’t buy flowers anymore without thinking of him.

They catch her eye as she’s hugging Foggy, and she feels the breath leave her lungs, swooping out in the space between heartbeats. Tensile strength, she thinks. Kevin was taking AP Physics the year he died, the year she killed him. She remembers helping him study. Ultimate tensile strength, he’d recited from his flashcards, measured by the maximum amount of stress an object can withstand without breaking —

Karen leaves, and doesn’t look back.

.

.

She uses her credit card to buy a southbound bus ticket to Baltimore, hopes the paper trail will buy her a little time. Fisk and his goons have probably already started sniffing her out, but she’ll be long gone by the time they catch on.

She’s heard the Rockies are beautiful this time of year.

.

.

The plan is to lay low. The plan is to limit contact with other people, as much as possible. The plan is —

“This seat is — taken?”

Karen glances up. The woman staring down at her from the aisle reminds her sharply of Mrs. Cardenas — same toothy smile, same hopeful eyes, and Karen feels like her chest cavity has been scooped hollow.

“Uh — no,” she hears herself say. “Not taken.”

Karen left a lot behind in New York, but her inquisitive tendencies have stuck. It’s not long before she knows more than she probably should about her seatmate — Sofía Rosales, sixty-seven years young, three grandchildren with a fourth on the way. She talks with her hands and very kindly doesn’t laugh at Karen’s mangled Spanish. Karen likes her immediately, and that’s when the sirens start going off in her head, that’s when everything starts spiraling. She ruins everyone she touches, no matter her intentions, even when she tries to be kind and good, even when she tries to do the right thing it all goes wrong —

(That’s what you do, Karen. That’s what you do.)

She switches seats in the middle of the night and doesn’t talk to Mrs. Rosales again.

.

.

Karen ditched her phone before she left, but she has a few numbers memorized. Ellison, Matt, Foggy, home.

David Lieberman.

She’s not sure why his number stuck, but it’s there, burned into her hippocampus. Just one of the many details she learned about him while digging for info for Frank.

She has an hour to herself in the station in Columbus, where she’s transferring buses, so she slides into the nearest coffee shop and fidgets with the burner in her pocket, to give her hands something to do. Flips it open, then shut again. Open, shut.

She thinks of the elevator — him leaning into her, closing his eyes and aligning his breath with hers, all those unsaid things in that quiet cocoon of space — and laughs aloud.

And she sort of owes him, right? For saving her life. She owes it to him to let him know it wasn’t for nothing, that she is, in fact, still breathing.

There’s an open single seat in the very back of the new bus. She sinks into it, waits until they’re on the highway again before punching in David’s number with shaking fingers.

“Hello?”

It takes a second for her lungs to catch up with her brain. “Hello, David?” she croaks. “Is this David Lieberman?”

There’s a slight pause. “Who’s calling?”

She should hang up, now. Trash the burner, never, ever, do something this fucking stupid ever again —

“Karen?”

Every muscle in her body tenses. He sounds uncertain, but there’s something about his voice, even over the phone. Something layered beneath. Karen doesn’t know much about this guy, but he seems like the type of person who wouldn’t ask a question he doesn’t already know the answer to.

She blows out a breath. “Yes. Jesus, you’re good.”

“Holy shit. Holy— shit, it’s good to hear from you.”

“I guess you know why I’m calling, then.”

"Yeah,” David huffs out a laugh, “yeah, I have a pretty good idea. I gotta tell you, Karen, our mutual friend has been, ahh, more of a pain in the ass than usual, as of late. I’m sure you can relate.”

She’s gripping the phone so tightly her tendons are starting to burn. There’s breath somewhere in her body, right? Beneath her ribs, maybe, threaded through the struts of bone. She just has to find it. Just take a breath, Karen, just one.

“Our — friend,” she says carefully, past the lump in her trachea. “I need you to let him know that I’m okay. I’m just taking some time, away from the city. But I’m alright. If you could tell Fra —” she squeezes her eyes shut. “If you could tell him that, I would really appreciate it.”

“Karen, hey —”

“Thanks, David,” she says, and hangs up.

.

.

She’s fine.

.

.

After two nights on the bus, Karen decides she needs some actual sleep. She finds the cheapest motel she can and collapses once she’s in the room, asleep before she can even take off her coat or shoes.

She dreams about Fisk, then Kevin, and jolts awake long before the sun comes up.

There’s a pad of paper in the nightstand. You’re okay, she scribbles out, over and over.

You’re okay.

.

.

He’s never far from her thoughts. She knew she wouldn’t miss him like she misses Matt and Foggy — he exists in her mind in splinters, a kaleidoscope of sounds and images and feelings that she can’t quite piece together. She knows who Frank Castle is from a distance. It’s when she looks closer that everything gets blurry.

.

.

She cycles through her burners. The one she’d used to call David stays in the bottom of her duffel. She hasn’t turned it back on since then, but she can’t make herself get rid of it, either.

She calls Foggy, once, in a moment of weakness. The line rings and rings and she hangs up before he can answer.

She wonders if loneliness can actually kill someone.

.

.

They ride the bus with her, sometimes.

Kevin pops up the most. The first time, he’s hunched over his guitar, the one mom had given him before she died. He’s picking the strings randomly, strumming chords to life that Karen swears she’s never heard before.

“Stop showing off,” she jabs.

“Hey, it’s not my fault you don’t have a musical bone in your body,” he smiles, not looking up.

“Ouch. Where’d you learn to be so mean, kid?”

Now he snaps his eyes up. “I’m not a kid.” 

You are, she thinks. You’re just a kid, you’re so, so young. Your whole life is there, just waiting for you to fill it —

Paxton visits occasionally. He never says anything, just sits and stares out the window. They’re driving through Kansas now, nothing but grass and plains for the past day and a half. Karen wonders if her father is thinking what she’s thinking when he looks out, if he’s wondering what it would be like walk off into the sun and dust, feet to the horizon.

“Hey.”

(It says something about the state of her life that Frank’s voice does something to her, even when it’s in her head.)

“You found me,” she says, not turning. She sees him in the window, his reflection distorted slightly.

“Thought I wouldn’t?”

“Hoped.”

He rumbles a laugh between his teeth. “You know me better than that, Miss Page.”

“Why,” she says, “why are you always here?”

“I just got here, Karen, what’re you —”

“I mean, in my life.” She looks at him, finally, taking his face in like she always does in case this is the last time she sees him. “Every time you leave, you come back. I’m tired of trying to figure out why, Frank, so if you could just fucking tell me —”

His hand is warm as he slips it through hers. She can almost feel the calluses on his fingers.

“You mean somethin’ to me,” he says. “Don’t you know that?”

He’s gone, when she looks again.

.

.

She runs until she hits mountains. Denver seems as good a place as any to stop, at least for a little while. There’s people here, not like New York, but enough for her to blend in, go unnoticed. Just one face in a million.

She finds an apartment and scoops up a night shift at a local bakery. It feels good, working with her hands. Making things instead of ripping them apart.

Time passes. Karen tries counting the days at first, but soon loses track. Weeks, months. She’s still here. She’s still here.

.

.

I killed him, she growls at Wilson Fisk, again and again. Sometimes it’s him. Sometimes it’s Kevin, or Ben, or Mrs. Cardenas, or —

She’s not sure she knows who she’s hiding from, anymore.

.

.

It had to happen, eventually. A material can only be stretched so far until —

.

.

She shouldn’t do it. She knows —but she’s starting to forget people. The color of their eyes, the sound of their voices. She just needs something, something to remind her she used to have people in her life who knew her real name, who cared she existed.

She calls home.

A strange voice answers. “Hello?”

“Uh—” she sputters, thrown off. “Hi, I’m — I’m looking for Paxton Page?”

“Shit, I really need to get this number changed. He moved, about, oh, a month and a half ago? Doesn’t live here anymore.”

The pit of her stomach turns to ice. “He — he moved? He’s gone?”

“Yeah. Think he said he was going out of state, too. Didn’t leave a forwarding address, though. Sorry I can’t be of more help.”

Karen sinks, melts into the floor, lets the phone slide out from between her fingers. Stupid, stupid. He told her himself, all those years ago. I don’t want you here, Karen. She thought, maybe, maybe if enough time passed, maybe the wound would start to scab over. Maybe he’d change his mind, and they could try to be some semblance of a family again.

I don’t want you here, he said, but what he meant was —

I don’t want you.

“Fuck,” she whispers to herself, the empty room, the universe. Anyone who’s listening. The answering silence is what finally does it. She unravels, slow tears at first that quickly devolve into throaty, heaving sobs that rock up the length of her spine, fan out across her shoulders, rip through bone and marrow and every little thing that’s holding her together.

She cries until she can’t anymore.

.

.

Karen blinks and the world pieces itself together. Floor, beneath her, every muscle in her body protesting loudly as she rolls into supine. Her brain feels like it’s bursting out of her skull. She must have slept here. It’s still dark — just before four a.m., the clock on her nightstand says.

C’mon, Karen. Sit up. Just sit up.

It’s muscle memory, after that. Stand, shuffle over to the sink, splash water on face.

Cross the room, dig through the duffel in the back of the closet. Find his burner.

It’s muscle memory, switching it on.

He calls less than a minute later.

“Karen? Karen —”

“Hey, Frank,” she says.

He makes a fractured noise on the other end. “She’s here, Lieberman, she’s — christ, Karen, you’re here, I can’t — you’re okay?”

“No,” she says with a low laugh. “But I’m here.”

“I’ll take it,” he says. “It’s — shit, it’s good to hear your voice.”

“I’m sorry, Frank.” She sinks her fingers into her hair. “I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t do that. You don’t do that with me, you got it? Jesus, Karen, I — I thought that was it. Thought—” he goes quiet, and she can almost see him tilting his head down, working his jaw. She can almost imagine wrapping her arms around him, her chin on his shoulder and her hands in his hair, the smell of him, how he feels pressed against her, warm and safe.

“I miss you,” she says.

She hears him pull a ragged breath between his teeth. “You have no idea, Page.”

Her fingers are wet, when she swipes at her face. “I don’t — know what to do. I don’t know what to do, Frank, please tell me, because I can’t do this, I can’t.”

“I’m here, Karen.” His voice swells, crests like a wave, and she realizes he’s crying, too. “Right here, yeah? I’m here, always.”

Just take a breath, Karen. Just breathe.

In, out, in again — and across the miles, she can hear Frank breathing, with her.

[navpike]

cry out what you need to: chapter 4

“Okay, so, you know my partner, Amy Rohrbach? She died, on Sunday. And she had a daughter. She’s five years old and she had no other family and they were going to put her in the system and I just felt so--” “Dick, did you adopt the kid?” “I adopted the kid.”

Or, the one where Dick adopts a child, learns to balance parenting and superheroing, and falls in love, not necessarily in that order.

Chapter Four: so i’ll beat the drums and scream at the sun [on ao3]

Steph stays for dinner Monday night, and drives off on Dick’s motorcycle when they’re done. He gets Rona showered and put to bed, quickly as he can, and retreats to his own room, sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands. It’s the first moment he’s had, his mind not addled by exhaustion and concern for Rona, to sit and truly process the past week.

Amy’s dead. She’s gone, and when Dick goes back to work next week, he’ll be assigned a new partner, and life will move forward, even though Dick doesn’t want to. Rona has no mother now, no real parent, and as much as he can be there for her, and as much as he knows Steph, Cass and Babs will provide strong role models for her, Dick doesn’t know how to pick up the rest of the slack. He just started packing away his partner’s life, his closest friend outside of the superhero life, and in another day or two, it’ll be like she never existed at all, nothing left but a memory and a house for sale.

Dick does the only thing he can think to do.

He calls Wally, and he cries.

He cries out what he needs to and tells Wally every concern he has about his sudden parenthood and how worried he is about Rona and his lack of ability to take care of her properly and how he doesn’t know what he’s doing and how he feels like he’s unprepared to go back to work without Amy by his side because she was his friend goddammit. She was more than just a coworker, more than just his partner.

He takes a deep breath when he’s done unloading everything, and lets it out very shakily.

“Sorry. That was a lot.”

“Holy shit, Dick.”

“Sorry.”

“No, shut up, don’t say sorry to me! You’ve been packing that all away ever since Amy died? God, I’m surprised you’ve-- you Bats and your fucking-- Dick. Dude, you’ve got to talk about these things. If you have a kid to worry about, you can’t be worrying about falling apart yourself. God, you worry me sometimes. Just. You gave me the okay to tell the group chat what’s going on with you, and I did. Roy’s obviously no stranger to unusual parenting situations, and the rest of us are more than happy to listen to whatever you’ve got to say. Just talk to us, Dick. You’re not alone. You’ve got us, you’ve got your family, and Babs and Steph. Don’t think you have to be Mr. Strong and Silent. You’re not Bruce.”

It’s kind of like a smack in the face, but it’s just what Dick needs, really. He can always count on Wally for that. Something warm blooms in his chest and he has to actively fight to stamp that far down and way back. Now is not the time for this quasi-crush to be rearing its ugly head.

“I just hate bothering everyone,” Dick tries, but he knows it’s a thin excuse and he knows Wally will call him on it.

“Shut up. Talk to your friend like a normal person. I’m gonna hang up now, and you’re going to text the group chat. If there’s nothing from you in the next ten minutes, I’m going to drop everything and run to Gotham, got it?”

It’s just the right amount of guilt to get Dick to agree. He can imagine the smug look on Wally’s face as he mutters out his assent. Wally hangs up with a laugh after Dick calls him something very unkind, and Dick takes a deep breath. He doesn’t know if he can really handle the full force of all of his friends right now, but he trusts Wally, so he’ll go along with it.

He double checks that Rona is soundly sleeping in her room, steps in and smooths the wrinkle in her forehead with his thumb, and just as his ten minutes is up, he sends a text to the group chat he’s had on mute for the past week.

[from bird boi, 9:32 PM]

hey guys

[from wallington, 9:32 PM]

nice to see you listened to me

[from dad bod, 9:33 PM]

nice of you to let us know youre alive dick

[from mom, 9:33 PM]

I can’t tell if you’re saying his name or insulting him but either way.

Doesn’t matter.

Nice to see you’re not dead.

How’s the little one?

[from bird boi, 9:35 PM]

thanks donna.

she’s asleep right now. sorry i’ve been absent lately, it’s just been kind of a crazy week

[from mom, 9:36 PM]

You’re welcome.

And don’t worry about it. We understand. Just let us know what’s going on with you. Kind of sucks to have to learn you’ve become a father from Wally instead of from you.

Dick winces to himself, where he’s tucked himself into the corner of the couch, wrapped in a blanket. He let Steph tell Tim about Rona, and he let Alfred and Bruce tell Damian, and while it was necessary because he’s been so busy, he feels bad that he couldn’t sit down and have a conversation with either of them, especially Damian. He really kind of wishes that he had waited, let the ten minutes pass so that Wally would have come to Gotham, so that he could just have someone there with him, because feeling bad on his own makes it even worse.

[from bird boi, 9:40 PM]

i’m really sorry.

i’ve been kinda freaking out about all of this and the kid and i had to make funeral plans for amy.

sorry, not an excuse

being a parent is hard

[from dad bod, 9:42 PM]

be less hard on yourself dick, surprise parenthood is rough

just dont be stupid you asshole, tell us whats going on with you every once in a while

also, lians pissed off that she hasnt gotten to meet her favorite uncles kid so you have to deal with that now

[from bird boi, 9:43 PM]

that’s the scariest thing that’s come out of this week

side note: wheres garth in all of this?

[from mom, 9:44 PM]

Garth’s got Atlantis business most of this week, he’s going to be in and out.

But unlike you, Boy Blunder, Garth told us what he was doing so we’d know he was okay.

[from wallington, 9:45 PM]

okay, okay, ease up on dick, hes had a bad week.

[from bird boi, 9:45 PM]

thanks walls.

[from mom, 9:46 PM]

I’m done now.

I’m sorry about your friend Dick. And I’m sorry we haven’t been able to be there for you. Soon as that little girl settles in, you’ve got to let us come visit her. I didn’t think we’d be getting a new niece so soon. I can’t wait to meet her.

[from dad bod, 9:47 PM]

seconded. lian thinks she’s got a new built in best friend

and i’m sorry about your partner too

Dick smiles to himself, clutching the blanket wrapped around his shoulders closer to his chest. There is a deep, aching sadness still weighing heavy in his chest, making his ribs throb with it. Now that he’s thinking about it, that’s likely the month old rib injury he’s just beginning to really get over. But, he’s wallowing for a moment. So he’s going to be dramatic about it.

Sue him.

[from bird boi, 9:49 PM]

thanks guys

i’m going to try to finish clearing out as much of amy’s house tomorrow as i can before rona gets out of school. i did a lot with steph today but it’s harder than i thought it would be

[from dad bod, 9:50 PM]

jesus dick, that’s brutal. i wish i could lend a hand but i promised i’d help ollie with something tomorrow

[from mom, 9:51 PM]

I’m sorry I can’t help either. I’ve got meetings all day tomorrow.

[from bird boi, 9:51 PM]

no guys, don’t worry about it!

[from wallington, 9:52 PM]

shut up and let us worry about you.

youre our friend and we care about you and youre having a really shitty week.

[from dad bod, 9:53 PM]

yeah shut up jackass

[from mom, 9:53 PM]

Hey now.

[from dad bod, 9:54 PM]

sorry mom

point tho: youre not b, dont act like it

[from bird boi, 9:55 PM]

you know, wally told me the same thing.

[from wallington, 9:56 PM]

its the red hair, we all share a brain cell

[from dad bod, 9:59 PM]

i was gnona get mad but jesusnfuck walls i just lost it at that

[from mom, 10:00 PM]

Good lord you lot are like children.

[from wallington, 10:01 PM]

you know it and you love it wonder chick

[from mom, 10:03 PM]

You’re all insufferable and Garth’s my favorite now by default.

[from bird boi, 10:04 PM]

HEY! i haven’t even done anything!

[from mom, 10:05 PM]

Nope, you’re guilty by association because you’re here for all of this, you’re a part of this. Now I’m going to get a good night’s rest for once in my life, no one disturb me unless the world is ending, I have early meetings tomorrow morning, good night, heathens.

Dick turns his phone off with a grin and wraps it in his hands, close against his chest. The profound sadness that Dick had felt crushing through his chest feels a little less crushing now that he’s talked to his friends. They never fail to lift his spirits.

His phone buzzes again and he glances down at it to see a single message from Wally.

[from Walls, 10:10 PM]

good luck tomorrow, dick. we love you buddy. let us know when you think the kiddo can handle some new people and we’ll all come over with lian for dinner. you’ve got this daddy-o.

Dick almost cringes at the terrible nickname, half a wince and half a hysterical grin, and texts back a smiley face. He turns off his phone, and, checking in on Rona one last time, he heads to bed. He’s out like a light as soon as his head hits the pillow.

Unfortunately, he only gets a couple hours of sleep before he’s woken up by a tiny body kneeling on the edge of his bed. There’s a moment where he instinctively grabs for a weapon, for something to defend himself, before he pauses, thinking about what might actually be happening. The thought takes a moment to make its way through his sleep addled mind, but it does, and in the span of a few seconds, he goes from searching for some defense to his hand coming to rest on a tiny, trembling wrist.

He looks up, and Rona is kneeling on the edge of the mattress, her eyes shining in the low light filtering in from the small night light in the hallway outside the half open door.

She doesn’t say anything, just sits there, clutching Zitka the stuffed elephant in her other hand, and Dick sits up, gathering her up in his arms immediately.

“Hey, sweetheart, what happened?” he says, the concern evident in his voice. “Did you have a bad dream again, honey?”

She nods miserably, hugging Zitka close to her chest, and burrowing into his arms.

When she doesn’t say anything further, Dick settles down into bed a little further, holding her close. “Come on, you can stay in here with me tonight.” She nods again, her hair tickling the underside of his chin, little flyaways catching in the few days’ old stubble there. “Do you want me to tell you a story?” Another nod. Dick situates himself, half sitting, half lying against the headboard, getting Rona nestled into his side, partially draped across his chest. Her tiny hand curls into the thin material of Dick’s shirt, her face pressing into his side as she tries to stifle a sniffle.

“I miss my mommy,” she says, almost inaudibly.

Dick’s heart cracks.

“Well, let me tell you a story. Once upon a time there was a little boy, and he could fly. He and his family could soar through the air just like birds, and people came from far and wide to watch them put on shows. But then one day, while they were performing at a fair for a prince, the little boy’s parents had an accident. While they were flying around for the show, their wings stopped working, and they fell to the ground.”

“This story is too sad,” Rona sniffs miserably, and Dick holds up a finger, poking her on the nose.

“But it’s going to get happier, just you wait. The little boy didn’t have his parents anymore, and that was terribly, terribly sad, and he thought he would never be happy again, because he missed his mommy and daddy very much. He was all by himself for a little while, until one day, the prince who they had been performing for found the little boy. The prince went up to the little boy, and offered to give him a home. Now, the little boy was worried about going to live with the prince, because the prince couldn’t fly, you see, and the little boy thought that the prince would try to make him live on the ground all the time. He thought the prince would take away his magic, and take away everything that reminded the boy of his parents. So the boy was very afraid. But he didn’t like being alone, even more than he was afraid, so he went to live with the prince. And when he got to the prince’s castle, the prince was very formal, and had a butler and it was nothing at all like what the boy was used to. But after he was there for a while, the prince did not take the boy’s magic away, so the boy took a chance, and he started flying around the castle, because he missed it so much. He was flying around the castle one day, and the prince caught him, and the boy was afraid the prince would be mad, but he wasn’t mad at all. In fact, the very next day, the prince had set up an arena in the castle, so that the boy could practice his flying and get better at it, and get to be stronger, so that the boy would never have his wings stop working like his parents’ had. And the boy said to the prince, ‘I thought you were going to take away my magic, so that I’d be more like you. I thought you’d take it, so that you’d be my new dad.’ And the prince told the boy, ‘I’d never take your magic from you. You’re special to me because you’re different from me. I am going to take care of you as best as I can, and I will love you like my own, and you will be my family, but I will never try to replace your parents. We’ll be family in a different way. And it will be just as good, but it won’t replace what you had with them.’ And the boy kept his magic, and later on, when the boy got brothers, and a sister, he taught them his magic too, and the prince even tried to learn the boy’s magic too. And they all became a family, and they were much different from the boy’s parents, but he loved them very much nonetheless.”

When Dick looks down, Rona is drifting off, no longer looking so upset. He presses a kiss to the top of her head, and settles a little deeper into the bed.

“I’ll never take your magic from you, little one,” Dick mutters, and before he knows it, he’s drifting off too, cradling Rona close to his side.

[ghosty-schnibibit]

late amnesty liveblog because my sleep schedule has betrayed me :P

i've scheduled this liveblog to come out around 10:00 am on friday, but as i'm typing this it's around three in the morning. summer has utterly fucked my sleeping schedule lmao, i literally went to bed around 6:00 am yesterday and didn't wake up until a little before 4:00 pm... which is about a normal amount of time to sleep for me tbh, just at a wack time. oi vae. i’m going to try and get to bed a little earlier tonight, but i had to get this done now so i didn’t have to avoid tumblr altogether for fear of spoilers while me and my parents are driving to IKEA tomorrow :P

i've been procrastinating listening to the new ep all day because of well, the same reason i tend to procrastinate listening to every new ep of amnesty: i'm scared as fuck for all of these characters and a lil bit nervous about how griffin intends to unify all the disparate plot threads in a way i wasn't during balance. i'd say that nervousness is less of a product of me being distrustful in the boys’ abilities and more a product of me binging all of balance over the course of a month and only catching up in time for reunion tour, aka when all the main mystery threads were either solved or would be in the next few eps. also, ngl, still a little shaken by ned's death, along with how bloody the last arc was in general and what that means going forward vis a vis character mortality. please griffin, all i ask is that you don’t kill off duck and aubrey, p l e a s e

tl;dr: my sleep schedule is fucked and i'm a nervous wreck about fictional characters, what else is new lol? anyways, onto the liveblog!

the description is probably the least terrifying of the last five or six 

"how's the scene doing?" "lil cold" i caught that pun trav

MY BOY :D

griffin what the fuck

good to know indrid isn't at fault lmao

aww duck :'(

"what a delight" bless

the heathcliff is out of the bag

indrid you dramatic twink jfc

i really love these moments of just... pure dialogue

q u e l l

"why did you invoke submarines?" ilu aubrey

... you're not really being helpful here drid

i love thacker so much holy shit

yep, all bummers sums it up pretty well :|

a very finely feathered cast lol

minerva's voice is so similar to indrid’s jesus

i only know of minority report through the lost in adaptation ep on it lmao

well that's not great

"our- well, your world technically" aww indrid

aubrey you dummy ilu

i forgot kirby was there lol

i need fic of aubrey and thacker watching movies together and getting him caught up to modern day, i don't even like the mcu and i want that fic

d u c k m a n

JESUS CHRIST INDRID

what was that noise clint???

indeed quite zany lol

which one of them is clicking their computer mouse a bunch???

"gotta getchu a sword" leo ilu

i know there's gonna be fanart of that lmao

ooooh, new music! very good new music!

yes please keep the together party after splitting it caused so much heartache and literal death last arc 

i love thacker's dad energy so much, can't wait to see how that plays out

"WHY ARE THEY SITTING IN RUBBLE" ilu trav

sammiches c:

keith is just d o n e

i just remembered the throwaway line from the last arc about hollis being into saturday night dead and got sad :(

JESUS THACKER

i need fic of thacker interacting with the baby hornets, i need it so bad

duck you cannot just spring all this on them

"my friend the mothman" D U C K

YUP, you need to roll for that

that's better than failure! that's not complete failure!

JAKE! JAKE! JAKE!

OH MY GOD THAT'S SO FUCKING CUTE

they're in it for jake :')

i’m so excited for the new graphic novel!!! hopefully i will have enough money to buy it ha haaaaa for real tho i have no money or autonomy

ghost dewey! :D

who does he need to talk to? pigeon maybe?

that was so good clint! i loved it :D

WHAT THE FUCK, DUCK NEWTON

i know i've said it like eighty times but thacker's peak dad energy is absolute gold and i'm super happy we get to see him interact with juno again after how adorable their last scene was :)

"gross" bless travis

oooh no, i'm getting bad vibes

i have never heard milanos pronounced that way in my entire life

i have to hide mine from my dad lmao

WHO IS CLICKING

thacker you sound like the goddamn unibomber could you please be more forthright about what the plan is

hmm... here's a fun question: did thacker inherit ned's spent luck???

well that answers that lol

i love juno so goddamn much

sensors? stealth could be an option

why is she so scared? like aubrey brought her coworker back to life, i personally would not be afraid of her murdering me after that

"no one needs to go to chicago" ilu aubrey

federal paperwork is an absolute bastard

some monday what???

"well i don't care for the tone!" aubrey ilu

that's a good way to put it :/

WHY IS DEWEY IN THE CLOSET

s p e c t r a l  m o m

well dewey is immune to death sooo...

ned was one of aubrey’s best friends... even after everything that happened she still called him one of her best friends... travis you've made me cry ; _ ;

PLEASE MAGIC TRAVIS DICE SHE HAS NO MORE LUCK TO BURN

damn this really is a wild ass scenario isn't it

"you're melting my fucking brain" pfff

thank you clint, i completely forgot too

travis is the irl voidfish lmao

i love dewey so much

"can't kill me twice, i think" i hope dewey can't double die lol

d u c k o l a s

why did you go to buffy and winthrop duck??? why did you want to talk to these weird edward and lydia reskins duck?????

yeah that feels right

okay, it's griffin clacking on his mouse

playing what???

THE WHAT

WHAT ARE YOU PLAYING AT, JUSTIN MCELROY

DUCK WHAT THE FLYING FUCK ARE YOU DOING I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IS GOING ON

i love justin's triumphant laugh so much

i mean i already mentally associated them with the wonderland liches so this isn't much of a jump  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

griffin what on earth is this

"that's it, that's all the latin there is" i wish lmao

THE SHADOW BRETHEREN

we are... so screwed lmao

this was very good! this ep kept up the trend of funnier interactions from the last ep and i’m grateful for it after how sad the past arc was. i am still very worried but i’m happy we’re seeing a lot of npcs that we hadn’t gotten back to in a while just to make sure they’re okay. pretty much anything else i had to say is summed up by the mini rant i made before listening above lol. 

see y’all next right thursday!!!

[cottonwren]

A Well Dressed Woman | T.S. | 2

Summary: Jamie and Tommy meet again, and everyone’s worried.

A/N: Thank you for the likes and reblogs! <3 comments mean everything, please if you enjoy it let me know! Comment! <3

Part one:

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The second time that Jamie and Tommy met, it was in his office, and she had walked herself through the betting shop, managing to sit down in one of the chairs before he arrived. If Tommy wanted a war, he’d get one. She was wearing another one of her suits, the dress pants he enjoyed so much tightened slightly. Jamie heard the door open behind her and stayed exactly still, smirking as she heard him cough. Did he ever think that maybe smoking wasn’t a good idea? Jamie almost never smoked, and she had never touched anything else, though she sold it in enormous quantities.

“Is there any reason you’ve broken into my office, Ms. Pine?” Tommy asked, putting a voice on that sounded slightly strict, dominating maybe? Well, two could play at that game. She would be lying if she said it wasn’t extremely hot, though, holy hell. Some things just stuck with you, and that tone of voice was one of them. Something would be joining her in any dreams she’d be having that night.

“I just thought I should clarify some things with you, Thomas, before you fuck up. Your face is too pretty for me to enjoy harming you” Jamie told him, leaning one hand on her palm, making direct eye contact “But if you do fuck me over, Thomas, I won’t hesitate.” Her words were scathing and violent. She knew that she’d follow up on them, which made her unhappy, but business was business. He was, indeed, very pretty, and it would take a lot to know she left two children fatherless.

“And what, pray tell do you assume I will fuck up?” Tommy asked, crossing his arms on the desk and leaning forward, his face only a few inches away from hers. For a second, he got lost, admiring the icy green colour of her eyes. He could have sworn she was lost with him, but then she got up from her chair, beginning to pace. Tommy wondered if her trousers had always been that tight, because honestly they worse than he remembered. This woman was seducing him, he realised, and she wasn’t even going to pull though and accept his advances. Fuck. Seducing people was his plan A all the way through to plan Z.

“Well, Tommy, I took the liberty of doing a little background check, and you seem to have a reputation of betraying people. Even your closest friends, family even. Sounds like the Shelby family had a good christmas last year” She told him with a smirk, circling his desk “All I want to tell you, Thomas, is that if you try to take more than we agreed on…” Jamie paused, pressing her shotgun to his head, getting a strange thrill of exhilaration as she felt the end connect with his shaved side. “You’ll be lucky to have an open coffin funeral” She whispered in his ear,  withdrawing the gun and continuing her stalking.

Tommy looked at her with a smirk “Someone’s got trust issues. You know fully well that if you shot me, my brothers would kill you, then your pretty little sister, then anyone else you hold close. Suddenly, Pine Pharmaceuticals becomes Shelby territory. Wouldn’t want that to happen, would we, Jamie?” He asked, rolling the ball back into his own court, waiting eagerly for her biting response.

“I’d love to see them try. I’m not scared of jumped up yam yams, lead by a class traitor with an OBE and eighteen oil paintings of himself” Jamie told him simply “But, the question is, Thomas, before I get too caught up in another cute conversation with you, are you going to try your luck for the last time?” She asked, sitting down and glaring him dead in the eye “Because trust me, it will be your last”

“Those are bold words for a girl who’s slipping out of control” Tommy told her “I’ve heard brave talk from many men who think they’re bigger than me, and I will take you down just as I did them. I shall see you soon, Jamie Leanne Pine, maybe you should keep your ideas to yourself before you figure out if you’re right”

“Oh, but I’ve already figured it out, Thomas” She told him with a smirk, standing up “I’ll show myself out, seeing as showing myself around was easy enough.” Jamie decided, an air of aloofness in her voice, though Tommy knew that every word was precisely picked to suit her aim.

“Do you put in an effort to be a nuisance, Ms. Pine? Or does it come naturally to you?” Tommy  asked, getting up and walking her out. If the boys saw him escorting her out, he’d never hear the end of it, but he just needed to get her out before she could really unleash what she assumed may be Jamie’s Box - like Pandora’s, but far far worse. So much worse.

“Just giving back, Mr. Shelby, just giving back” Jamie smiled, walking through the offices with strides, making sure to walk in front of him. If he was going to try and seduce her, he’d have to beat her at it “After all, I do need to ‘get off my high horse’, was it?” She asked, air quotations like staples in the  air.

“Only if I get off my throne, if I remember your words right” Tommy bit back, leading her to the street and standing by the door “I have a feeling I’ll be seeing you soon, Jamie”

“I have a feeling you will, Thomas.” Jamie nodded “Make sure to polish your throne before you go to bed, lest it lose it’s shine in the night.” She told him and then got into her car, driving off towards her offices in Cradley Heath.

As Tommy walked into the building once again, he was met with Lizzie and Polly, hands on their hips like judgy siamese cats. He sighed, rolling his eyes and looking at them “It’s just business, ladies. Just business”

“No, it wasn’t. We’re not stupid, Thomas” Lizzie told him, making Tommy wonder how he actually wanted to fuck her in the first place. “Don’t let her seduce you,” She looked upset, a little more depth to her angry face than usual.

“I’ve got a plan. Alright? She’s not going to seduce me or anything, so you can calm down” Tommy told them shortly, walking past them to get to his office. Jamie had put him in a good mood - finally someone to compete with. It had been a long while since he had someone to bounce off, and it had been even longer since he’d wanted to. For a second he felt like the bright eyed boy he once was, and it confused him to no amount. It made him feel, for a second, that Greta may be back to visit him. She would never be back, though, would she?

“Tommy” Polly called, closing the office door behind her and sitting at the desk “You’re smiling. She’s got you. You need to snap out of this, alright?” She told him “She’s a business partner, and… Tommy. Tommy” Tommy had zoned out, and Polly was losing her temper. “We’re following the plan, alright?”

“We’re following the plan” He nodded, “I’m going to the Garrison. I’ll see everyone in the morning, where you can establish distrust in me for a bit longer” Tommy needed to go out and drink. Then go home and drink. Maybe he wouldn’t sleep. Maybe he would.

“Jamie Leanne, where have you been?” Asked Linn once she heard the front door go to their shared house. Linn knew exactly where she had been, of course, and could pin it down to one person exactly. One capitalist, heartless, gorgeous person. The smirk on her older sister’s face confirmed her thoughts.

“Warning Tommy” She smiled, pulling off her coat and hanging it up “You eaten yet, pumpkin?” Jamie asked, walking through the oak floors and into the kitchen “I’ll cook if you want”

“No, pasta’s cooking, You never stay out late without assigning me a bodyguard” Linn told her with a hum “Please stop doing that by the way. I’m not a kid anymore, Jamie”

“You’ll always be my kid, you know that. Plus, the world is too fucked to even fathom anyone like you - they’ll take kindness and softness for weakness, Linn” She hummed, stepping out of her oxfords “Just trying to protect you”

“Just trust me a little more, yeah? Ever heard of karma? If someone does bad things then the bad thing will happen to them, and vice versa. It just works like that, you see. And all I do are numbers”

“For a drug cartel, princess. For a drug cartel” Jamie reminded her, brewing some tea “I am the reason that karma would bite you wrongfully in the arse. Fuck, it’s cold, want me to light the fire?”

“Yeah. I tried and burnt myself” Linn admitted, showing off the small patch of raised skin on her  hand. “Put it under some cold water though so it’s fine”

Jamie nodded, walking into the lounge “Wear my leather gloves next time, yeah? You won’t get burnt” She offered as she knelt down next to the hearth, placing more coal in the hearth and then lighting a match,placing it into the middle of the fire and sitting back on her heels, making sure that the fire was lit before walking back into the kitchen.

“So, Thomas Shelby, are we still not in love with him?” Linn asked, checking up on the pasta and then turning back to her “Or, as to better word it, have you decided you’re going to attempt to bullshit me that your smirk as you came in didn’t mirror the same one you had when you met Barrett” She asked, straining the pasta.

“Me and Barrett.. Yeah, this is nothing like me and Barrett, at all. Barrett was beautiful, and we were in love, and then she died. Because people die, and it’s my job to make sure you somehow at least go after me, because the idea of dying twice and knowing the which time would be harshest would break me. Like it did” Jamie hummed softly “I just like having someone to fight, pumpkin, that’s all. You know that”

“And then you like having someone to hate fuck” Linn muttered “And then someone to date. And then someone to realise you’re in love with. It was the same with Barret, and all I ask is that you don’t let it cloud your judgement. The reason we work so well is because you’re so cynical”

“We’ll be fine, princess. I know Tommy Shelby is a capitalistic, bad, power hungry man. Just remember that your sister is just as bad and desperate. Not a capitalist though, obviously. And where he’s got two kids, I’ve just got my big kid” Jamie explained.

“You want kids, though, Jamie, and you know that he is single and one of kids is completely motherless. Don’t, Jamie. Do not” Linn warned, plating the meal “Last thing we need”

“Stop worrying,” Jamie tsked, walking over to take her plate to help Linn carry them to the table. “Stop reading my mind, aswell. A girl can have wants, can’t she?”

“She can, which is why I’m going dancing saturday night” Linn hummed, making Jamie almost drop her plate “Alone”

“You get back home at eleven, and you only use taxis that we trust. You don’t get lifts from anyone you don’t recognise.” Jamie told her once she’d managed to pick her jaw up from the tablecloth “You better stay safe”

“I will” Linn sighed “I’m not stupid, you know. I’ll even take my knife”

“Good. I know you’re not stupid, princess, I just don’t want you getting hurt” Jamie told her honestly. “I also know that you’re a young woman, and you need to get out and start living your life”

“How old were you when you started this business, Jamie?”

“Seventeen. Started dealing at fifteen, but enterprised upon it at seventeen. Fed you, so I did it more, and here I am, fifteen years later, and it’s paid off” Jamie explained, starting to eat “This is gorgeous, Linn, wow”

“Thank you.” Linn knew that her sister would understand that she wasn’t thanking her for the compliment.

[nightcoremoon]

So I finally watched Deadpool 2. long post. very... very... very long.

back in 2009 my then 7 year old sister really got into avatar the last airbender and I hadn't really watched it but I had to share the tv with my four sisters and honestly between the kids television and disney sitcoms it was a breath of fresh air, and for a year and a half we would wait for reruns of episodes we hadn't seen yet. avatar was the show that got me into fandoms. alas, time passed and by the time korra was playing we'd moved to a different house and lost cable tv because the stepfather refused to pay child support and we were on a one parent income. we didn't really do anything together anymore either because I was in high school now. but then she got super into comic books. and I mean SUPER into them. especially harley quinn and deadpool. so when they announced the first movie and suicide squad we had both collectively lost our shit in excitement. alas, mom said she wasn't allowed to watch it since it was rated R and she was only 14. so one late february afternoon I was gonna take her out to see a movie. I told mom we were going to go see zoolander 2. in the car, I looked at her and said

we're not watching zoolander

and she screamed

and we watched deadpool

AND IT WAS FUCKING AWESOME

anyway more time passed and I heard that a second one was coming out and I wanted to do the same thing but that didn't happen and I lost my chance to see it in the theater. and then as I got enraptured in transitioning and working and a whole bunch of other stuff I just never got around to it. I did watch all of the supporting videos and trailers and stuff though. anyways, my sister (yes the same one) just rented it on dvd from a video store and watched it with her boyfriend today (actually yesterday but shut up), so I just sat down to watch it after work and

It

Was

...

a little disappointing at first, don't get me wrong. there were a lot of plot contrivances and I LOATHE fridge stuffing. I literally made a joke, "if she dies I'm gonna be mad" and then BOOM she fucking died and I was so pissed off I almost just turned it off. but I decided fuck it might as well watch the whole thing. it was a huge step forward from a technical perspective and all of the cinematography was on point and I could tell david pulled his a-game and did so much better than tim did (sorry tim, I love mass effect 2 and scott pilgrim if it's any consolation) and felt so much more fluid of an action movie considering the man did john fucking wick. of course ryan was fantastic too, as he always is. everyone was great: rena, tj, karan, leslie, BRI AND KUTSUNA-SAN, zazie, and stef's voice plus the cgi crew. also I always love terry crews, bill skarsgard, matt damon, alan tudyk, and the two seconds that brad pitt was on screen, even if their appearances were for comedic effect. I wasn't really sold on julian though but he's a newcomer on the scene and he did pretty well for all intents and purposes. I could tell which scenes were filmed first thought but this isn't a scathing attack on a child's acting abilities. I'm just angry that the actual plot for getting to the end was so weak, that they're aware and had ryan lampshade the fuck out of it, and the last half hour was such a trip.

okay so first of all how in the FUCK did sergei figure out who deadpool's secret identity was, track down wade wilson's apartment, get a hit crew together, and make his way downtown in the amount of time it took dopinder to drive wade home, wade and vanessa to bang, and them to start watching a movie? oh yeah sure there's nothing saying that their talk about his daddy issues was the same day let alone the same hour as the previous scene except for the simple fact that there was no fucking indication that any time had passed. either way, someone fucked up, and it was for the sole purpose of fridging ness to cause wade manpain. although frankly the only thing I hate worse than killing off the previous waifu for the next is breaking them up for zero reason whatsoever from out of nowhere (or doing both: if you do both then you're no better than paul blart mall cop 2 and that movie is a steaming blight on humanity that's only saved by perfectly syncing to pink floyd's dark side of the moon album). and to be fair THEY ACTUALLY USED THAT AS A PLOT ELEMENT AND MADE ONE OF THE MOST BEAUTIFUL AND HAUNTING SCENES I HAVE EVER SEEN IN A MOVIE. and also a hilarious one. so that sucked at first but then redeemed itself later. I'm still a little salty that he killed francis for nothing. MORE ON KILLING LATER.

(actually upon reflection maybe wade didn't hide his secret identity at all so it's perfectly reasonable that sergei just went after him but that would awaken a whole swathe of problems like why the fuck are wade and ness livin in the middle of the city full of crime and shit??? and more on that later)

dopinder killing his rival in love. come on now, that's just unrealistic. dopinder is too fucking incompetent to successfully murder anyone who isn't a pedophile. MORE ON THAT LATER.

the suicide. I can understand going out with a bang but are we supposed to believe that wade bought all those barrels, wheeled them in, and arranged them all and never once thought "well gee maybe I'm overreacting a little bit"? okay, he was depressed and not thinking clearly, but he was constantly getting drunk, doing coke, and god knows what else. he somehow didn't have the clarity to not kill himself but had just enough to arrange such an extravagant death? yeah yeah I get it, rule of funny and cool, and I can forgive it because it's deadpool, but god damn it that's really lazy (AND GODDAMN IT THEY EVEN ACKNOWLEDGE IT TOO. ITS LIKE THE ROYAL RAT AUTHORITY BONFIRE HERE). it's also indicative that weasel and colossus and dopinder are just bad or at least distant friends. and at least althea has an excuse being that she can't see. but as for the other two? bruh he is suicidal and unstable as hell. the last thing he needs is SPACE. but well maybe he hid it well, like kurt cobain, robin williams, chris cornell, chester bennington, okay writing this sentence maybe that actually does make sense. fuck.

negasonic thought that wade "flamboyant pansexual" wilson was lesbophobic? what? I understand it was for a joke but like come on now. surely she'd know that wade legitimately wanted to fuck colossus but wouldn't because he loved vanessa. lesbian gaydar works well, okay? then again the writers are not lesbians so I mean they can't be faulted for not grasping the raw power lesbians exude. (and if there's canonical evidence negasonic is actually bi, the same rule applies because wlw solidarity and stuff). and that's more than made up with the interactions between wade and yukio. whom I love and would die for. she's delightful and I hope she gets plenty of screentime in DP3. (also lmao 'pinkie pie from my little pony'. the real pink pony would be proud)

now, I get that this is purely because of license issues and budget constraints but THE WHOLE CONCEPT OF THE X MEN COEXISTING WITH THE PEDOPHILE HOME AND THE ICE BOX IN THE SAME UNIVERSE IS SO FUCKING ASININE. even if I made concessions for everyone being dead despite the timeline being fucked up the ass without lube, and admitting to never having watched literally any x men movie past X3 and yes that means I've not seen origins, japan arc [wait shit yukio's in that WTF SONY], first class, days of future past, apocalypse, or logan so I'm not an expert on the field but like. FUCK. I know there's jurisdiction, things change, erik is away and charles is dead (I think) and logan is dead (I know), and there's six whole movies I'm lost on, but jesus christ, none of that segment had any work done to make sure it was logical. so here we're supposed to believe that colossus and negasonic took wade as a trainee in the X Jet to Allegorical Racist/Homophobic And Literal Pedophile Central to... do what, exactly? What was the fucking plan? Because it sure as fuck looks like the plan was to distract him enough to force the Devil May Cry (sorry but I see DMC I either think of the rap duo or the game series) to haul him off to fucking prison to the fucking nth power. Colossus who seems to be the head honcho and sole decision maker of the X Men just stood by and watched until bullets started flying. Was he recruiting? Was he the damage control? Was he the cheap plot moving device whose sole reason for showing up at Essex was to punch Wade out before he killed headmaster touchykids allowing for the hamfisted climax? Clearly if we were to derive any conclusion from this circlejerk we have to assume that not only Colossus but the entirety of the XMansion just don't give a fuck anymore, or that it isn't important to make sense because hey this is a Deadpool movie so fuck you for using logic. Excuse the shit out of me for being confused as to what the fuck actually happened, because if Colossus is willing to let Wade get thrown into prison for killing a pedophile but he's not gonna TAKE ACTUAL LEGAL ACTION AGAINST ESSEX HOUSE FOR TORTURING MUTANT CHILDREN FOR DECADES (Domino admitted to it being the same when she was a kid), either it's just a Public Relations nightmare to not let the Run-DMC haul him off, Essex is a legal powerhouse on the same level as the Westboro Baptist Cult with lawyers up the ass, or they changed a lot of shit from the trailers and cobbled together what they could from what remained (which is the most likely suspect because Bedlam and Shatterstar had scenes in the trailer where they were not dead and were actually fighting with Wade and Domino). Regardless, the scene however dumb and nonsensical was necessary I guess, and established Russell/Firefist as a character. I'm still gonna be pissed about that in particular but HOLY SHIT is that stupid. But that's not all that's stupid. More on that later.

Cable's motivations are grief. His hypocrisy is understandable. Killing kids is wrong so I'm gonna kill a kid so he doesn't kill other kids. Why doesn't Russel deserve life? Because he's a mutant? Wow, Thanos is racist AND mutant-phobic! In all seriousness though, all Cable had to do was nothing to prevent his family's death. If he had stayed in the future, nobody would have broken Russel out so there would be no way in hell he'd have killed the headmaster let alone everyone else he did. Although according to the laws of time travel, the timeline Cable came from was the timeline that he went back in time and did everything exactly the way it happened up until Wade took that bullet for Russel. Because that's the moment the teddy bear lost its bloodstain. Because literally not a goddamn thing changed the course of history up until that exact moment, THAT IS THE EXACT FUCKING MOMENT IT BUTTERFLY EFFECTED ITS WAY TO HELL AND BACK. Cable's dead family is a direct result of him going back in time to kill Russel to save them and failing miserably. And god I love time travel paradoxes UGH I JUST LOVE THEM SO MUCH. We have to assume Cable failed and that's why he succeeded. THATS SO FUCKING STUPID.

And you know what else is stupid? Wade made it back to New York after breaking out of DMC. How is that stupid? Well, first of all, the facility wasn't looking for THEIR MOST DANGEROUS INMATE. Black Tom said it himself, Wade is the toughest cunt in there. Although Juggernaut is way more powerful but whatever. More on that later. Anyway, the facility got the riot back on lockdown despite Cable decimating most of the staff, and got everyone in line enough to get them to start convoying to the more secure location. Did they see that Wade was missing and decide "hey, fuck it, what can the literally most unkillable man in the world with the most enormous boner for revenge in the universe POSSIBLY do to us who forced him to slowly die of cancer all over again in a hell prison???" Fucking stupid. Even dumber is the actual X Men themselves not giving a shit that there was an attack on the ice box which is apparently Mike Pence's wet dream, not lifting a finger to so much as offer assistance TO ENSURE THE SAFETY AND REHABILITATION OF ALL OF THE MUTANT INMATES, or even so much as being like "hey guys is Wade doing okay dying from cancer in your Guantanamo Bay?". And dumber still than that is Colossus deciding that Wade deserves to slowly die of cancer since he killed a pedophile who abused a kid so bad he used his powers for destruction and murder and evil and eventually became one of the most deadly sociopathic murderers in the fucked up future world, rationalizing it because Wade broke the rules of being an X-man by killing, even though Wade didn't wanna be an X-man in the first place. Colossus dragged Wade from his suicide directly to the X manor to get his body healed, forced him along to a mission he didn't wanna be a part of, and then punished him for killing a pedophile by forcing him to die slowly from the cancer while getting the shit kicked out of him by convicts. AND THEN WADE APOLOGIZED TO COLOSSUS? ARE YOU FUCKING FOR REAL HERE? WADE WAS SUICIDAL AND COLOSSUS FORCED HIM INTO PRISON. Bad friend, 0/10.

Seriously, a queer military vet with ptsd and a fucked up past replete with daddy issues who developed cancer and was then tortured by a shadow organization went on a revenge spree followed by a murder spree as a mercenary, and expressed that he's a violent psychopath who won't hesitate to murder sex traffickers or pedophiles or people who threaten his girl, and watched said girl (the only good thing in his fucked up life) die right in his arms immediately after his life was about to go in a good direction and start a family and probably give up all of the murder business and just be the best dad in the world and give a good life to someone to make up for the one he never got himself, did a cocaine bender, and literally committed suicide. But his godforsaken mutation wouldn't let him die, so he couldn't even see his Vanessa again. He clearly has severe clinical depression and needed a FUCKING MENTAL HOSPITAL STAY, not being shoved into a planless feeble attempt to get him to join the Xmen (using him for an extra hand for missions), and he was allowed to BRING THE GUNS, and he was confronted with a physically and sexually abused CHILD with mutant powers he probably didn't ask for that ruined his life and got him sent to Essex, a BIG KNOWN HOTSPOT FOR PEDOPHILES, and he has a big problem with sex criminals (oh yeah and the girl he loved so much he killed himself when she died? sex worker with a life full of being sexually assaulted herself. let alone the fact that wade has been sexually assaulted as well). You take a queer, mentally ill, suffering man and push him past his breaking point, and let him bring guns to a pedophile nest, HE IS GOING TO KILL THE PEDOPHILES. Colossus is a fucking cunt in this situation in every single conceivable fashion. He dragged Wade out of the frying pan, and out of the fire, and into the fucking woodchipper, before stepping on him. The situation is so far behind fucked up that I don't even think the crew fully grasp the full gravity of the situation described. But I digress.

Things weren't all bad from this point on.

The recruitment was funny and full of people. Dopinder's reaction at Peter was amazing and I love him. Domino was fucking phenomenal and I loved her. I knew that everyone else was dead from the moment I saw them, though, but I still loved them anyway. Brad. fucking. Pitt. Great action scene all around. Josh Brolin is just the baddest of asses. Murphy's law is supreme.

Juggernaut's reveal was well done. Still dumb but not quite "AHM THE JUGGANAUT BITCH" dumb. Cool dumb. And then he Megatron'd Wade which was even cooler. I thought Russell joining him was a little dumb but it was quite a callback. Although it begs the question: Wade knew it was foreshadowing something and he knew that Juggernaut existed but he just isn't omniscient and the inconsistency is driving me fucking bonkers. This isnt the Deadpool of the comics. This is the movie Deadpool. And while I do like it I can't say it's without flaws. That's ok but still annoying as fuck. And then more flaws.

It's stupid that Colossus would react the way he did when he learned Wade was back. Well if Colossus was moping about because an entire convoy of mutants literally fucking died except for Juggernaut (PROFESSOR X'S BROTHER IN THIS CHRONOLOGY) and Russell, that's even dumber. If he learned Wade was back at that moment then he's not even paying attention to anything considering Deadpool was out and about. Negasonic and Yukio didn't look too surprised to see him. Lazy writing, lampshades, whatever, blah blah who even fucking cares.

The heroes show up just in time. Shocking. But of course if they didn't it'd be a boring movie.

The action scene was FANTASTIC. It balanced four different fight scenes all at once. Why Jug didn't rip Cable in half like he did Wade I won't ask, maybe because he's half robot I guess idk. Still, Wade/Cable, Domino, and Colossus kicked ass, and Russell's advance to the headmaster was beastly. Julian's acting wasn't the best and neither was Eddie's but I got what they went for and HOLY SHIT THE SCENE IS SO CHILLING, especially for queer youth. Bryan Singer could only dream of that level of subtle analogues.

I thought it was dumb that Cable was all like "if Russell kills then he'll be an evil monster since killing is wrong" even though literally every one of the people there have killed several people that fucking day. Cable killed many, Wade killed many, Domino killed many. Granted they killed mostly pedophiles but they also killed a lot of DMC people & innocent civilians (accidentally). But again he was grieving so whatever.

Negasonic and Yukio had their moment too, I just wish there was more. But that's what the threequel is for. WE WANT MORE LESBIANS!

Wade has balls, I'll give him that. Where he kept that power nullifier I'll never know. [also... fuck that noise. they just have a collar that turns off mutant powers? ORORO WILL HAVE A FUCKIN ANEURYSM. and marie will have an orgasm. for once in her life. hahaha references]. But it was still a great scene. Russell is actually a really good character, if he is a bit Woobie, Destroyer Of Worlds. But I like that trope. Simon from Cry of Fear is one of my favorite characters in that respect; sympathetic even to the very end if he kills Purnell and Sophie (god that monologue is so haunting... "have fun cleaning my brains off the wall. FUCK YOU."). He's basically just a mini Wade but a mutant first. And it allowed Wade to have a defining character moment.

And what a moment. There's a quote that was said about The Princess Bride that I feel works here. It was about the Inigo fight with Rugen. "A comedy is only as strong as the moment when it stops being funny." And the moment when Inigo stabs Rugen, and says "I want my father back, you son of a bitch." is just permanently etched in my mind because the entire movie you watch with a smile up until right at that moment. And when Wade finally bites it, you think "oh, he'll just wake up again and make another joke" but he doesn't. He doesn't move again. He shows up on death's door. And you hear the acoustic version of Take On Me. And he walks through the fog door, and he's got his skin back. He did it, he's finally reunited with Vanessa. And Cable looks away, and you start to piece together where they're going with it, and he goes back, and you wonder wtf is this, and it returns to the present day and Wade digs in the wound AND PULLS OUT THE SKEE BALL TOKEN HOLY FUCKING SHITBALLS OH MY GOD THATS THE COOLEST SHIT IVE EVER SEEN IN MY LIFE JESUS CHRIST ON A STICK.

THE ENTIRE ENDING SCENE IS SO ICONIC.

And the whipped cream on top of the sundae is the headmaster getting creamed in the middle of his tirade. And then Dopinder's reaction is the cherry.

After that it kinda does the sappy ending which is fine for what it is. And then it brings in all the fourth wall breaking time travel shenanigans, drenching it in sap and Ryan Reynolds' brains.

The music is just OH MY GOD amazing. Yeah there's the pina colada song and skrillex and celine dion and ac/dc and enya and pat benatar and peter gabriel and cher and steve miller and for some reason diplo/french montana/lil pump but THOSE ARE ALL ACTUALLY REALLY GOOD OKAY???

The movie is chock full of amazing lines.

The fights are all really fluid and visceral.

The cinematography is always on point.

The plot formula is shaken up a little bit.

Several pedophiles die incredibly violently.

ITS A REALLY GREAT MOVIE, FOR REAL.

I'd literally say it's better than the first one.

All of the plot contrivances in the first half are negligible and are barely even problems unless you overanalyze them too much. Like I do.

And I also watched all of the extras... Celine Dion is such a good sport, really, and honestly kind of a dork and super endearing and I love her honestly and think she caught too much flak for being a) a woman b) popular c) in the worst 'romance' movie ever made tifuckintanic god I hate that movie so much despite loving kate winslett, leonardo dicaprio, and james cameron as much as I really loathe to admit it. And Ashes is a really good song.

And I never thought I'd say this but... Lil Pump has really nice flow. I really kinda hope he isn't the dead one. I despise French Montana but I love Sia and by extension Diplo (because LSD), and the song they did for the movie was... bad. But I'll probably be checking out Lil Pump soon.

And anyway the winter solstice mtv unplugged acoustic version of take on me? Beautiful.

I enjoyed this movie a lot, despite the nitpicks.

Thank you Canada. 🇨🇦

[suit-lady]

A Stupid Dare.

A/N: *slides in a week late with Starbucks and crippling depression* Hey guys, what’s up? So, I’ve been working on a little fic to go along with this post on and off for the last week, and it’s finally done! As a side note, Infinity War can suck my ass and instead, Tony and Steve and the whole gang had a lovely lil reunion and everyone (sans Peter) is living upstate like it should be thanks.

Alternatively, Ned gives Peter a stupid idea that Peter goes along with, even though Ned is honestly afraid that Peter might literally die. Warnings: Swearing throughout. It’s me. Word Count: 2120 Thanks for reading! :D

Friends always gave friends stupid ideas, right? But, like, they’re supposed to say that those ideas are, in fact, stupid and veto them, right?

Ned couldn’t stop fidgeting with the buttons on his shirt as he followed his best friend, the apparent idiot, Peter Parker, into their local Wal-Mart.

“Oh, fuck, Ned, we should’ve grabbed a cart,” Peter said with a chuckle. “I dunno if the two of us can carry nine of these out of here without dropping any. I might have superpowers, but my balance is still shit.”

Ned wasn’t really listening. He was honestly already feeling sick knowing what his close pal was about to do to his body. Absentmindedly, he stuck out his arms, waiting for Peter to stack four four-packs of Red Bull onto his forearms. Four times nine is thirty-six. Ned shook his head, shooing the thought away. Peter wouldn’t do this if he thought he couldn’t survive, right? Right?

It took two grocery bags to hold all the Red Bull, plus Peter carried a four-pack in his hand. After asking if Ned would carry both bags, Peter opened the four-pack he was holding and started drinking his first of thirty-six. Ned wanted to throw up all over the sidewalk. Seriously, who could drink even one of these caffeine nightmares, let alone one plus thirty-five more?

Peter was on his third can by the time they got back to the apartment. They bid hello to May before entering Peter’s room and closing the door. After all, Peter would never want his aunt to see him in the state he was about to be in. Ned sat at Peter’s desk (Guy in the chair, hell yeah.) and began googling the effects of caffeine so that they’d be ready for everything Peter was going to go through. As he clicked through articles, he tried to ignore the sound of the second cardboard container being ripped open.

“Okay, okay, so each 250 milliliter can has 80 milligrams of caffeine in it.” Peter hummed through the liquid to show he was listening. “The recommended amount of caffeine intake is 400 milligrams.” Another hum. “So that means you are going to be consuming… 7.2 times the recommended amount.”

“Damn,” Peter said after he swallowed. “That’s a lot, even for me.”

“Even for you?! Fuck, Peter, this is so dangerous.”

“What, you don’t think it’ll just make my spidey senses ridiculously tuned?” Pop, fizz.

“No, I think you could die.”

Another hum. Peter had started drinking his sixth fucking can of Red Bull. It had almost been fifteen minutes, meaning the caffeine was beginning to hit him. “It might heighten your senses at first… The caffeine buildup should start happening soon.” Peter nodded as he swallowed, and Ned decided to make a phone call.

“Happy Hogan, who is this?” Happy’s face appeared on the screen of Ned’s laptop.

“Hi Happy, I would have called Mr. Stark, but I don’t have his phone number,” Ned explained before jumping in.

“Okay, what’s up with the kid?”

“Is Peter in trouble?” Ned heard Tony ask from not-too-far-away. “We’re kind of busy here.” If Ned listened hard enough, he could hear Dum-E whirring, working on a project of Tony’s.

Ned coughed awkwardly before answering, “Do you think drinking 36 cans of Red Bull consecutively would make Peter’s spidey senses even more heightened or do you think he would die?”

“Oh my God,” Happy sighed at the same time Tony said, “Fuck. What number is he on?”

“Ten,” Ned replied after Peter flashed five fingers twice.

“I’ll be right there. Dum-E, save this for later…No, later. Happy, I need you to… Oh, fuck I dunno… Hey FRIDAY? Could you tell me what the best liver cleanse smoothies are?” A long pause. “Fuck, kid, why are you like this? FRIDAY, end call.”

Ned sat back, a little numb. Tony Stark was so worried about Peter that he was going to come to his apartment. Holy fuck, Ned thought to himself as he stared at the black laptop screen. My stupid idea might fucking kill Spider-Man.

Ned did his best to distract himself from watching Peter, but it was impossible. As he opened his fourth package, Peter asked, “Could you open them in advance so I can drink them faster? It’s slowing me down.” After Ned gave him a look, he defended himself, “Look, if I’m doing this, I’m doing it right.”

Ned started tearing through the cardboard of boxes five and six, thinking, The right way to do this is to not do it at all.

Peter was more than halfway through the Red Bull by the time Ned heard a sharp knock at the door. Just as Ned opened the door to Peter’s room, he saw May rushing to get the door. She was wearing an apron and her hair was a mess; she was doing her best to make dinner. Ned’s heart swelled for a moment before the panic set back in. May’s not supposed to know.

“Oh… Tony! What a surprise!” May’s less-than-enthusiastic voice called through the house. Ned couldn’t see the door, so he assumed that Tony had come alone. Jet boosters. Nice.

“Yeah, me and a few friends came by to…talk to Peter about…y’know, internship stuff.” Tony’s voice was awkward and faltered a little. He was trying not to let on to May that he was worried.

“Oh, sure! He’s just in his room with Ned…that’s his best friend.” Huh, it worked.

“Yes, we’ve met him.” Wait… We? Friends? Who?

“Oh, C-Captain America… I don’t believe we’ve met.” Ned could imagine May fixing her hair in a nervous-yet-flirtatious fashion. He stifled a laugh.

“Evening, ma’am. This is a lovely apartment you have.” Steve’s voice echoed down the hall without Steve even trying. Ned knew May was absolutely swooning.

“We probably won’t stay for dinner. Just saying ‘hi’ to the kid.”

As footsteps started coming closer, Ned heard May call after them, “You’re more than welcome!”

The moment they were in view, Ned apologized, “I was going to answer the door, but she beat me to it.”

Patting him on the shoulder, Tony replied, “No worries, guy in the chair.” Ned shot Peter a look. Peter shrugged. “So how many is that, Parker?”

With a grin as he opened a new can, he said, “This one makes number twenty-two.” His expression changed to a grimace. “My stomach hurts.” The smile returned. “But! I can hear everyone in the apartment down two floors. They have friends over.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Well, I’m glad your experiment didn’t go haywire before Steve and I arrived.”

“Tony was running around the base, trying to find anything that would help cleanse your liver. It took a mountain of coaxing to get him to leave with just one smoothie.” Steve held up a water bottle filled with a pinkish-red mixture. “We would have been here earlier had his Dad Instincts not kicked in.”

“Look,” Tony defended himself with a pointed look at Steve. “I can be worried about my ssssssssuperhero protégé, alright?”

Steve rolled his eyes, hard. “Yeah, sure, but there’s no need to worry about Peter this much, Tony. He might just be a kid,” he paused to chuckle when Peter bristled. “But he’s surrounded by great people who take good care of him.”

Do we? Ned asked himself. If not for me, the literal fucking Avengers would not be in my best friend’s apartment right now.

“After all,” Steve continued with a shrug, “the boys in the army used to place bets on how many beers I could drink before I couldn’t walk straight anymore. My record was once after we’d been partying a lot recently—one of our buddies had gotten married two weekends beforehand—and my tolerance was even better than usual. I think I drank the pub nearly dry at like… seventy beers or something. All of our betting money went to the pub that night.”

Steve and Peter were laughing. Ned and Tony were not.

Soon after, Peter cracked the last Red Bull with a grin. “Five minutes from now I will be dialed to twelve.” His voice got deep and announcer-like. “This is the ideal male body. You may not like it, but this is what peak performance looks like.”

Steve and Tony exchanged confused glances, but Ned brushed it off with a wave of his hand while he laughed. “It’s a kid joke.”

“Okay,” Peter said definitively, throwing the last can in his trash bin. “I’m putting on the suit.”

“Don’t you think you should wait to see how the caffeine affects—” Tony stopped short as Peter flung himself out of the window. A moment passed. “Well, I guess I’ll call Karen.”

Tony plugged some sort of external hard drive into Ned’s laptop, which caused everything on the screen to change. From what fit on the screen, Ned could tell that it was designs and other crazy-amazing stuff that Tony carried around to work on while he was on the go. He did some typing, and a blank video screen came up. An oddly digital ringtone played.

“Hello, boss,” Karen’s voice suddenly sounded in the room. “Would you like to see Peter’s vitals?”

“That would be wonderful. Could you show us his Baby Monitor feed as well?”

“Of course.”

The screen showed the streets of Queens flying by at an incredible speed from uncomfortably high up. If the screen weren’t so small, Ned was sure he would have felt very sick at the sight. Peter could be heard quietly squealing in glee about how well he could feel the wind on his arms and face. In the corner of the screen, his body temperature, heart rate, and similar functions were shown.

“Peter’s heart rate is much faster than usual, as expected,” Tony observed. “His body is working at a much higher level, so he’s processing information faster than he usually would. Since he’s already to attuned to feeling the smallest changes in the environment, this is probably nostalgic to swinging around Queens for the first time. He’s probably got half an hour before he crashes and comes back to sleep for a day and a half.”

Ned nodded, absorbing the information. “So he’s gonna be alright?”

Steve chuckled before Tony could answer. “This was a dare, wasn’t it?”

Ned went white, and Tony said, “Yeah, the kid will be fine. But… really, Ned?”

“I thought he would say no!” This time, Steve and Tony both laughed.

“Hey kid! How’s it going?” Tony asked after turning on Ned’s mic.

“This is amazing!” Peter shouted, his ecstatic mood obvious. “Everything is even more clear than usual! I bet I’d be able to see perfectly in my old suit!”

Tony rolled his eyes. “You are never putting those bard-esque sweatpants on ever again, Peter Parker.”

“They’re stylish!” Peter defended himself.

“No they aren’t,” Ned, Steve, and Tony responded in unison.

“Oh.”

Tony was right. After a little over thirty minutes, Peter returned to the apartment, stumbling and wheezing. He’d barely gotten the suit off before he collapsed into bed, groaning about how awful he felt. Even though Steve kept giving him disapproving looks, Tony encouraged Peter to drink the protein smoothie they had brought with them.

“Okay, Iron Man,” Steve said, pulling Tony away from Peter. “The kid needs rest, and we have adult stuff to do at the facility.”

Ned sat Peter up and pulled a big tee shirt over his arms—decency, y’know—while he listened to Steve awkwardly usher Tony out of the house. As predicted, May was very adamant about the two handsome men staying over for dinner, but Steve was very firm, refusing to let Tony stay in the house another minute. May came by to check on Peter, who was nearly passed out in bed. Ned panicked; he had no cover-up story; he couldn’t just tell May that he’d convinced her nephew to chug thirty-fucking-six Red Bulls.

“Steve told me that Peter went…out,” May said, her eyes flicking to the suit. “And that he’s had a long afternoon.”

“Yeah… bit of a workout,” Ned agreed, laughing awkwardly.

“I had plans for dinner, but I’m gonna make something that’s bread and veggie heavy. Hopefully that’ll make him feel a little better?”

“That sounds good. And lots of water.”

Peter agreed with a thumbs-up, and May skittered off. After making sure Peter was all right to be left alone, Ned left his room to help May cook. Ned helped his mother sometimes; maybe the meal wouldn’t be a disaster if Ned was there to supervise. After all, it was the least he could do after nearly killing May’s nephew, whether she knew the whole story or not.

Tagging @sortinghatsara because she dealt with my bee ess the entire time I wrote this gd fic.

[lilnasxvevo]

I wrote an essay once when it was really late and I was really frustrated

I am not going to send it to my literary journal and I did not even hand it in for the class I wrote it for (the next essay I wrote was passable enough to submit) but I think it is kind of funny so I am going to share it with you

Zoom Zoom

           Draft number four of this FUCKING essay because I can’t FUCKING write. I just through out the last three because they sucked and excuse my language but I’m so frustrated at myself and I typed the wrong homophone in the last sentence and I went back and changed it but then I changed it back so you understand where I’m at right now because I NEVER!! MAKE!! SPELLING MISTAKES!! I was on the editorial staff of my high school newspaper for two years and that shit was flawless! I was editor in chief and that shit was free of god damn error! I do not make! Spelling mistakes!

           I’m so frustrated because part of me just wants to write about a motherfucking TV show and the rest of me is like, “No, Thomas, that’s so fucking stupid, write about something that’s serious, something people can take seriously, something people can respect, but NOT something boring” and I’m like OK!! WELL!! THAT’S A TALL ORDER YOU’VE GIVEN YOURSELF TOMMY BOY!!

           I’ve been trying to copy the style of the essays we’ve been reading in the last three drafts I just started and abandoned. I wrote…lets see…(I will be keeping all future grammar and spelling errors that I make) over 1300 words that way so far today. Fuck it!! I am going to be writing like ME and what I write like is a protagonist from a really sub-par young adult novel. I read a lot of those! But I was already like that before I read all those books. Actually most of the ones I read are pretty great. Holly Black, David Levithan, uh those Girl, 15, Charming but Insane books I forget who writes them but if I look it up I have to stop my timer and that is just not happening—check em out, they’re great. Oh, Eoin Colfer, too. I have his autograph! I actually also have David’s.

           I made a list of all the things I could write this essay about. I didn’t want to write about being queer again because I don’t want you people to pigeonhole me. There’s like 50 items on that list. I’ll spare you. The list sucks. I texted my best friend “What should I write this essay about” and she said “Roman Catholicism” and I was like “Maybe” and she was like “Vampires” and I was like “LMFAO you will never believe what I wrote last time spoiler it was vampires.”

           I have ADHD. Sometimes this surprises people! Sometimes it does not! Usually it doesn’t surprise other people who have ADHD because we go based on our lived experiences instead of stereotypes unlike SOME people. I was diagnosed when I was 17 which is super super late but they literally, and you can look this up, base most criteria off of the symptoms of little white cisgender boys, who are usually hyperactive, and I was inattentive type. My third grade teacher used to slap my desk with a ruler when I spaced out. She never brought up my attention issues to anyone else. I hated her. I still hate her. Curse you, Cathy Sellers!!

           I have chilled out on the caps lock because maybe that was kind of a gimmick. Ok. Well. The ADHD. I actually don’t remember why I brought up ADHD, which is classic ADHD. Oh. I think it was to say that maybe you will be surprised that the inside of my head is this giant mess. Not to be all “welcome to my twisted mind” or that edgy shit. Maybe I’m trying to make an embarrassing essay on purpose. The point is some people think I’m very composed and stuff and the inside of my head has never once been composed. Well, maybe a few times. I miss standardized testing because they don’t really matter and they were fun to focus on and it was fun to fill the bubbles in and they made me feel smart. I am smart. I promise I’m smart. Sometimes people think I’m dumb because I’m a trans man which I don’t understand but I promise I’m smart.

           I just slapped my face to try to get myself to wake up a little bit. I am wiped. That cold that’s been going around is kicking my ass, though not as bad as it’s kicking the ass of other students in this class who I have maybe potentially had to drive to the pharmacy this week.

           I am so obsessed with this show on BBC America right now called Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency. In ADHD circles this is sometimes called a hyperfixation—it’s kind of like the special interests autistic people have, surprise surprise ADHD and autism are both developmental disorders and they have a lot in common. Dirk Gently is all I can think about. It’s a really great show and I loved it last season because it has the actor Samuel Barnett as the lead actor and I swore my fealty to him in like 2014 and then he got a lead on a TV show which is crazy because he never gets big roles like that so I was like NICE!!! Yeah, so last season was sci-fi, and the show is really great and it has this big diverse cast and all the characters are really interesting and the show never leans on stereotype instead of fleshing out a character as a unique person and there were electric crossbows last season that were designed by that Adam Savage dude from Mythbusters. So but this season, THIS SEASON, is SO good because apparently the show is planning on “switching genres” every season but with the same main cast so now they’ve been running around trying to find each other after everyone got separated at the end of last season (spoiler) and now they’re all in Montana and instead of sci-fi it’s FANTASY which is my FAVORITE. There’s another dimension that’s this great high-fantasy nation called Wendimoor and there’s a door between the valley of Inglenook and this one town in Montana for reasons that I refuse to explain, just watch the show. Ok and in Inglenook, there’s—it’s kind of sketchy how it works but there’s this guy named Panto Trost who has pink hair (his whole family has pink hair and it’s unclear if it’s genetic or if they dye it as a tribal marker or something, and when I first saw it I was like, HOLY SHIT, WHY DID I NEVER THINK OF THAT), and he’s the prince of Inglenook, and there’s this guy named Silas Dengdamor, who’s some kind of minor prince in Inglenook somehow, and THEY. ARE. A GAY INTERRACIAL HIGH FANTASY COUPLE. THEY ARE IN LOVE.

           And the guy who plays Silas, Lee Majdoub, he’s really active on Twitter and Tumblr, which is crazy because almost no one is active on Tumblr under their real name and it’s mostly just depressed young adults like me, but Lee fields questions about the show all the time and talks about how it was an honor to play a gay prince and he has so much love for Silas and he put so much work into this character which you can tell because he has an answer ready for everything. Has he ridden that train we saw? Is he gay or bi or what? What are his hobbies? If he lived in our world what would his favorite movie be? His five favorite songs? Does he agree with his family’s stance on the feud? (Oh my god I forgot to MENTION that the Trosts and the Dengdamors are TWO FAMILIES AT WAR, which makes Silas and Panto basically gay Romeo and Juliet, but hopefully they won’t die but Dirk Gently is a “don’t get attached” kind of show.)

           And did I mention he’s respectful??? My favorite answer he’s ever given is when someone asked him what it was like to kiss Chris Russell (the other actor), which is a question every fucking presumed-straight actor gets when they play a gay role, and since there is a 4 inch height difference between them, Lee answered something like, “It was a little weird because Chris is very tall, so I felt a little like Natalie Portman in Thor. Natalie Portman and I both have dark hair so we’re practically twins.” Also he is very handsome. It is important that Lee Majdoub is very handsome. Okay, it’s important to me.

           Wow, glad I got that off my chest. It’s kind of all I ever want to talk about. Two weeks ago, before I could do my actual writing assignment for the day, I had to freewrite about Kevin Spacey for like AN HOUR. What I wrote ended up being kind of unusable for this class thus far, I just haven’t been pleased enough with the way it handled a very sensitive topic to hand it in, but it was about Kevin Spacey and Jeffrey Dahmer and OUT magazine and news media and Anthony Rapp and me.

           I wanted to write about a historical figure for this paper but all the ones I could think of that I have a strong connection to were gay. While I was typing that sentence, I thought of Dorothy Parker. Well, shit. Another day, then.

           This paper is what we call a RISK!!! pleasedontfailme

           Here are some excerpts from the other three papers I tried to write today:

·         Sometimes I sing and dance in front of them. Sometimes I scream. One time, I stood on a desk.

·         The last time I told her I was proud of her I could only do it because she had consumed an obscene amount of wine and called me to talk about one of Shakespeare’s history plays

·         I am afraid that I am a husk a husk a HUSK a husK a husk a husk a husk of Corn-ell because

I promise these essays were not good. These were the only good parts. I wanted to include them because I wanted you to understand that I covered a lot of fucking ground before settling on whatever the fuck this is. I am sorry if you feel you would rather be reading one of those other essays, but I did not want to write them.

           I just scrolled back up to the top because I remembered abruptly that this essay doesn’t have a name. It’s called Zoom Zoom now. When my sister is bored while she drives, she says, “Zoom zoom! We’re zooming!” She is 24 and has a master’s degree. This particular catchphrase of hers always comes to mind when I try to describe how my brain works—childish, too fast, bored. Her boyfriend says “Brroom brroom” when he drives. I think he picked it up from her. He calls me Thomathy. Because Thomas can be Tom for short and Tom is like Tim and Tim is short for Timothy. Get it? He says “Thomathy” sounds like a disease. I think he likes me anyway. Even though one time during a heated game of Monopoly I told him I would eat chips at his funeral.

           I have three cats. One is ten years old, the other two are one. I have a rabbit. He’s a jerk. That’s all you need to know about me. Oh, I’m from Wisconsin. My favorite color is orange.

           Yeah so thanks for coming to my TED talk. Please buy a t-shirt on my way out, they’re $20. I know TED talks don’t usually have t-shirts but I want your money. Yes. Now scram.

  Are they gone?

Jesus, I’m so fucking tired.