#YOU COULD RECORD THEM AND ITS GONNA BE AN ARGUMENT ABOUT HOW YOURE TREATING THEM RATHER THAN THE ACTUAL OFFENSE YOU CAPTURED ON CAMERA

[tomholland1996simp]

I loved your “we gotta go” imagine when the reader pranked Tom. I was wondering if you could do the “starting an argument then flashing my boyfriend prank”. Thank you love your work xxx

Flashing || Tom Holland

Summary: You do the ‘Starting an argument, then flashing my boyfriend’ prank on your lovely and stressed boyfriend, Tom.

I haven’t proof read this, so sorry if there’s mistakes.

You and your boyfriend always had an on going prank war. Even before you started dating, you both pranked each other here and there, making sure t record one another’s reactions. You both started off as being roommates, just you and him. At first you just walked passed each other, not wanting to get to know one another, not even trying to make a small conversation, with a ‘hi’ or ‘how are you?’.

But one day you both just clicked. Then you wouldn’t ever leave each others sides. Where ever Tom was, you was. Well except for when he went off filming, sometimes you went with him, however other times you had to work as well. At first you and Tom were blind, you both denied your love for each other. Until one rainy day, when you missed his company, missed annoying him every morning, you told him.

And that’s what brings you here today. 2 years you have been dating, and you have known him for 5 years. Living with Tom has its perks, you were always with him when he was in Kingston and you always had his dog Tessa.

“Hey guys, I hope your all doing well. I don’t know why, but everyone has been asking for me to do videos of me starting an argument with Tommy then doing something random. A few weeks ago Tom had done a prank on me, however that back fired.” You chuckle, holding the camera in your right hand, looking through the lens. It’s true sometimes the pranks could go so wrong, but then they could go right.

Last time Tom pranked you and it back fired on him, it was really funny. “Today I’m going to be starting an argument with Tom and then flashing him. He’s currently on a meeting call, and today i’ve been acting moody. So he was like “why you being moody today?”

“I have to make sure that i’m not in the frame and that you can see his clear reaction to me flashing him. I don’t know what to argue about, i’ll have to think of something.” You pause the camera, walking into the kitchen to set it up on the counter. You hid it by a plant pot, hoping your super hot boyfriend won’t see it.

You threw some more dirty dishes into the sink, it being the only thing you could think of to make a stupid argument. The camera is rolling now, you place a finger on your lips, signing that Tom was coming.

“Tom are you gonna help me?—You said you do the dishes and you didn’t do them.” You call out, rattling the dishes as you hear his tired foot steps.

“Oh my goshhh! Im so stressed. Can I get a hug? I need love..” He tiredly smiles, Tom loved physical touch when he was stressed, you always calmed him.

Tom walked over to you, extending his arms out for you to fall into. You move away from him turning off the tap, his arms falling with a frown on his face. “No can you just do the dishes”

“Can I get no love?” He chuckles, thinking your messing around. You sigh, giving him a quick hug, patting his back like he was a friend. “There’s your hug, now do the dishes.”

Tom kissed your bare shoulder, “I’ve been in meetings all day, i’ve missed you” holding onto you still as you pull away.

“Okay now do the dishes” Now this makes Tom confused, his eyebrows raising up as he looks into the sink. “There’s three dishes, babe” He tells you placing a hand on your waist, all he wanted to do is get love from his beautiful girlfriend.

“Okay but why do I always have to do your dishes?!” You snap a little, trying to sound annoyed.

“I told you i’m stressed out, and this is how you’re gonna treat me?” He still spoke in a soft tone, gesturing to the dirty dishes in the sink. “I’ll do them”

“Okay then do them”

“I’ve been on a meeting since 7 a.m. How’s I supposed to do them?” Tom chuckles, running his hands through his loose curls. “Well you could’ve woke up earlier to do-“

“Earlier baby girl-“ He laughs, looking at you.

“I’m just frustrated, because last night you literally said don’t worry about them i’ll get them. You lied, you said you would do them” That part was true, you didn’t mind though.

“Most of these are from breakfast, and when would I have time to clean them” He quickly bends down to stroke Tessa’s head, finding her as a way to calm him down.

“No that one is from last night, when you literally had cereal.” You pointed at the bowl, fixing your straps of your tank top.

Tom puts his hands on your shoulders, helping you fix them. Ahh you were so lucky, it’s all the small things he does. “I’ll clean them, baby..” He gently shakes your body, hoping that you will at least be less moody if he jokes around to make you laugh.

“Okay! Don’t touch me” You pull his arms off, looking into his chocolate brown eyes.

“Are you serious?”

“No, i’m just irritated.”

Then he moves to where another dirty pan was left on the stove, picking it up. “Thank you for cooking for me. I said thanks like four times, I said i’ll clean the dishes.” Tom puts the pan into the sink turning on the tap, getting ready to clean the dishes even though he’s tired and stressed.

“Okay but why do I always have to ask you?” You try to raise your voice, continuing the argument even though you felt so bad for your sweet and loving boyfriend.

“I didn’t have any other time to do ‘em babe. I’ve been on meetings” He started to clean the pan, squirting the washing up liquid onto the sponge.

He’s still looking at you, “Well if you had time to eat then you had time to do the dishes, Tommy. And you could’ve done some of the ones last night, babe.”

Then he puts everything down, starting to grow even more stressed by how you was treating him over dishes. “I was eating on my meeting, y/n. Are you serious?” He said, pulling a face when you told him again that he could’ve ‘woken up earlier’.

“You’ve seen me on my like….What are you talking about? You literally know I had zero time to do anything” Tom still didn’t raise his voice, not wanting the argument to get worse. Now was the time that you decided that you had to flash him.

Walking away you say, “It’s just the fact that you don’t care, and you leave your stuff everywhere. I spent twenty minutes cleaning up everything” You made sure you was out of the cameras view.

“I left a bowl out last night, i’m sorry, baby. What else can I say, I didn’t mean to.” He sighed turning the tap back on, fully done with the argument you had started.

“You leave everything everywhere, you leave your keys on the counter, you leave your wallet-“

“Why are you acting physco about it? Like I’m sorry that I leave some things in certain places, maybe it’s because im stressed. Like I understand when your stressed, i’m always here for you, i’m never like this” Tom keeps his eyes on the dishes, focusing on cleaning the pan and placing it on the rack when he’s done, moving onto the next dish.

“But like, it not being clean stresses me out to” Your hands slowly go to the bottom of your tank top, him not noticing yet. The camera couldn’t see you either, all they could see was Tom and then him trying to spray you with a laugh.

“Will you smile? Come give me-“ Tom looks back up ready to finish his sentence, the camera seeing his facial expression change. You lifted your tank top all the way up, not having worn a bra so he could see your boobs bare.

Tom smiles cheekily, “What the fuck?” He laughs, dropping the spoon in his hand, it landing back into the sink. “What you doing?” He smirks a laugh, turning of the tap walking over to you as you pull your top back down.

“Nothing” You innocently say, moving back into the cameras view.

“Why you doing that? Baby!” He whines.

“Are you still mad at me?” You try hold in your laugh, a smile falling from your lips.

“I’m not mad at you, you’re mad at me. So that’s how your gonna fix an argument, your just gonna flash me?” He’s still laughing as he cups your cheeks, pressing both your foreheads together.

“You think boobs can fix everything, because they can” You wrap your arms around his neck as he picks you up a little, laughing.

“Yeah?” You smirk.

“Yes”

“Okay” You peck his lips, his hands going to your waist as he looks at your cleavage from your top.

“why you being mean?”

“I’m not being mean” You told him, pulling away.

“You are, i’m gonna do the dishes” He told you.

“So why ain’t you doing them now?”

Then he gave you a ‘are you serious right now?’ look, “Because you just flashed me your tits babe.” He gave your clothed boobs a squeeze, slapping your ass as you went to walk away saying ‘and, and what about it?’

“You want me to do the dishes-“ You flash him again. “Stop, how am I meant to do them when your doing that. Okay, what do you want. I’m confused” He took a step towards you thinking you wanted to do something.

“No, I want you to do the dishes” You laugh from behind the camera.

“Oh my goshhhhh” He drags the word out. “Babe, i’m stressed and I don’t have a lot of time. So it’s either I do the dishes or we do something better”

“I want you to do the dishes quickly, then we can do something better as soon as your done” You tease him, knowing he will grow frustrated after.

Tom grabbed your waist, pushing your body into his. You could already feel his hard on, he was really turned on by you just flashing him? “But there’s a bigger problem now, baby girl” Tom told you with a smirk, placing a sweet kiss to your lips.

“Well do the dishes” You push yourself into him, hearing him grunt as you walk back behind the camera, flashing him again.

“Y/n, that’s not fair. That’s like me showing you my dick, then saying no do the dishes. Baby, come on. First you was mean, now your killing me here” He picked up the dirty spoon again, you finally having enough of the prank. You felt too bad, you wanted to end this and show your boyfriend some love.

You grab his hands, dropping the spoon from it, and pulling him in for a sweet kiss. His hands go around your waist again, swaying you both side to side. “it’s a prank, love. I’m playing with you, I wanted to start an argument then flash you. The cameras there- I’m sorry. You don’t have to do them, i’ll wash them up later” You peck his lips, seeing him feel relieved that it was all a joke.

“So your really not mad at me?” He questioned.

“No, i’m not”

A smirk played on his lips as an idea popped into his head, “So does that mean I can see your tits again………,in the bedroom?”

[salmonthestoryteller]

Against All Odds

Roswell New Mexico Coda 03x03

Isobel sighed - half in relief and half in frustration - as she parked her car by Michael’s truck.  Her brother was unsurprisingly sitting by his fire pit, but he seemed calmer than he had at the drive in.

Michael rolled his eyes when she got out of the car and approached him.  “I’m pretty sure I’m safe here, Iz.”

“There was a fire at the church.”  Isobel took a seat by him.  “We’re back to square one.”

Michael groaned, hanging his head over the back of his chair. “Well, the sunflowers are from me, I guess. So it’s someone I’d be willing to pay respects to.”

“I thought you were convinced it was you.”

“…”. Michael sat up, keeping his gaze on the fire.  “Well, Alex doesn’t think so.”

“You talked to Alex?”  Isobel asked.  Michael shrugged. “So you run away from Max and me - twice I might add-“

“I didn’t run-“”

“You never come to us for help, and trying to help you in anyway is a sure way to start an argument-“

“I don’t need charity-“

“But you will go straight to Alex Manes and tell him everything?”

“…if I was gonna kick it, I kinda wanted to see him at least once.”  Michael explained.

Isobel frowned.  The giddy feelings Michael had allowed to seep through their shared connection before Alex returned had been absent.  She thought perhaps he’d simply been too busy helping her save Max to say anything about their reunion but this didn’t really sound like that at all. “What happened?”

“Alex says if I was the one dead he’d… react differently.” A small flicker of hope again, but nowhere near as substantial.

“So, Alex said your death would affect him deeply.  Sounds like a pretty enormous declaration to me.”

“…yeah.”

“So why aren’t you with him?  Oh, shit, is he here?”  She glanced towards his trailer.

“What? No!”

“Well, I don’t get it.  What happened to all those “I think it’s our time” vibes-”

“He’s seeing someone else.”  Michael snapped.

Isobel froze at his words.  “Oh…”

Michael sighed.  “Yeah, so not our time.  Okay?”

“But I mean, if he’s saying you dying would affect him so much, how serious could he be about the other guy?”  She couldn’t help but point out. Honestly, she may have to do a little digging herself.  She wasn’t above being a manipulative bitch if either of her brothers’ happiness was on the line.

“I don’t know. I didn’t exactly interrupt their reunion kiss to ask how serious their relationship was.”  Michael responded sarcastically.

Isobel winced. She imagined that hadn’t been a great thing to witness.  “Maybe it’s not that serious?”

“Serious enough to let him know when he’d be back in town.”

“Yeah, but he also told you when he’d be back in town.”

“Alex has better options than a junkyard mechanic in Roswell with a criminal record. I can’t exactly fault him for choosing them.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.  I thought you were going to date Alex Manes, not a member of my Mom’s yoga club.” Isobel quipped. “Is he really that interested in boyfriend bragging rights?”

“He’s a decorated war hero. Can’t exactly go on dates with a criminal.”

“Didn’t seem to have a problem asking you to use your criminal talents to break into a top secret alien facility though.”  Isobel crossed her arms.  “Wait, is this why you cleaned up your act this past year?  For Alex Manes?”

“Look, don’t we have a murder to solve?  My non-existent relationship can wait.”

“That’s not a no.”

“There were a lot of reasons, Iz.  Knowing about our moms. Sanders.  Having you, me and Max back to how we used to be.  And, yeah, maybe some small piece of me thought it might impress Alex.  Most of which has all been turned on its head, so… can we please focus on the murder now?”

“Do I at least get a name?”

“Isn’t the point that we don’t know the name?”

“I mean the name of who Alex Manes is seeing that you apparently think he can brag about to his yoga club?”

“He doesn’t do yoga.”

“Irrelevant.”

“If I tell you, will you finally drop the subject?”

“Deal.”

“Forrest Long.”

“A Long?  Are you serious?”

“Dropping the subject, remember?”

“Come on, you can’t expect me to not say something about that.”

“As much as it pains me to say it, Forrest isn’t a bad guy.  Black sheep of his family.  Guess he and Alex have that in common.”

If she was already concocting a list of all the gossip mongers in town she knew who might know something about Forrest Long, Michael need never be the wiser.  “Gregory isn’t so bad.”

“Please tell me you two never-“

“No.  Just an observation.”

“Uh-huh.  So are you still seeing the bartender?”

“We aren’t serious. I don’t think I can be serious about someone who doesn’t know about us. Our collective history on that isn’t so good.” Isobel let her eyes rest on the fire - she didn’t like thinking about how that applied to her own past. To Noah and how he’d never truly been unaware. How their entire relationship had been nothing but lies.

“I hate the idea we cover another murder. Thought we were done with lies…”

Isobel frowned, watching the flames. “What if I’m not crying cuz of who it is, but how they died?”

“Meaning?”

“What if it’s cuz we’re to blame? What if it’s like Noah and Rosa and-”

“Hey, that’s not gonna happen.”  Michael cut her off.  “The only potential evil alien around here is in a cage in the desert and he’s staying there.  Nobody’s making us do anything ever again, okay?”

“Promise?”  Her smile felt shaky even to herself.

“Promise.” Michael didn’t hesitate.

End

Author’s Notes:  *sideeyes Jones* If you dare make Isobel go through that again…

I don’t think they’ll actually do mind control again.  Though it is one possible explanation for bringing up Noah at the funeral in the vision.

Mostly this was an excuse for Isobel and Michael interaction. Cuz Isobel may live to torment her brothers, but their happiness really is important to her.  There is a touch of classism with the way every character who is not named Liz Ortecho treats Michael during the course of the series, some more than others.  Isobel, however, has definitely gotten better about it since the first season.  So I can definitely hear her reacting to the notion that Michael wasn’t “good enough” boyfriend material defensively.  Because despite her own “stepford housewife” Roswell persona, she never allowed it to interfere with having Michael in her life - even when his behavior was at its worst.  And I can totally see her social media stalking poor Forrest and being like - yeah, no.  My brother is way better. (Sorry, Forrest.)

While I’m pretty sure Alex has long forgotten the words that started the communication errors between Michael and him, I think a part of Michael is still very hooked on that “I want to be with you, but not if you’re wasting your life.”  He still feels at some level that who he is isn’t “good enough” and that’s probably why he was willing to take such a huge step back when he realized Alex was interested in Forrest.  He needed to prove he could be “good enough” first.  And I need Alex to smack him over the head with the fact that he stopped caring about that shit somewhere around Caulfield.

Also, the fact that the only person Michael feels safe going to when things are bad is Alex?  That says things.  He’s had moments with other characters but in each instance they’ve come to him.  The only person Michael willingly goes to is Alex.  He’s the only person he feels truly safe asking things out of.  The only one he allows himself to shed that “but if I owe them, that’s dangerous” mindset with.  And thinking about that is truly heartrending.

[alirhi]

Loki ranting

Okay. I had this thought in my head of like just compiling links of all the Loki shit I've posted/reblogged so far so that when I get into a conversation about the show and how it fucking disgusted me, I can just be like "here. here's this masterlist post, go read all this shit. This is my entire argument, and not only mine, but a lot of stuff posted by people far more intelligent and level-headed and eloquent than I am, whom I happen to agree with." Because the alternative is constantly getting fired up all over again, and that is exhausting.

BUT! I'm stupid and don't know how tumblr works. Apparently I can't just be like "give me all the Loki-tagged shit I've got" I can only search all the Loki-tagged shit on all of tumblr. And I'm not scrolling back through all of my posts. I talk too fucking much for that shit 😂

So, I'll try to remember all of my grievances with how the MCU has treated Loki, and all of the excellent posts made by other, equally upset fans, and put it all together here under this nice, neat little cut for everyone else's sanity and scrolling convenience...

For people who actually read my shit fairly regularly - bless you, you crazy, patient people. I love you! - this is going to be a lot of repetition of shit you've already read. Probably at least twice. I'm passionate and I have a terrible memory lol. Sorry.

Anyway, first, for those who don't know me and haven't been following my explosions of rage for the past couple of months, some quick background: I do not read comic books, so Loki's Marvel comic canon means nothing to me. I know almost nothing about it. The reason I'm so in love with the character in the MCU is because I am an eclectic witch and the deity I've actively loved and worshiped the longest in my life (literally for as long as I can remember) is Loki. So when he was mentioned in The Mask, I squeed. When they named Matt Damon's character after him in Dogma, I cheered.

When Thor came out in 2011, I just about died from happiness. I was hungry for any representation of this underappreciated god, no matter what it was. I didn't even bitch about how underpowered he was, because at least he was there. But I'm getting slightly ahead of myself.

I can hear anyone reading this going "Why Loki? Isn't he, like, evil? Like basically the Norse version of The Devil?" Because I heard all this shit irl all the fucking time. And no. So let me give you a quick rundown of who Loki actually is.

Loki is a Trickster God. He's often referred to as the God of Mischief. He is not and never was evil, simply chaotic and hedonistic. Loki Laufeyjarson was the son of Laufey (that's mama; they changed her to a man for some reason in the movie) and Fárbauti. Right from the start, from his name, we get a sign of how Loki goes against traditional norms of the time, because in Norse culture, families were patrilineal, and surnames were "son/daughter of father" (which would have made him Loki Fárbautitason), not the mother. But Loki's surname is matrilineal. Feminist icon woo! lol

Though he's a Jotunn, Loki is counted among the Gods (Aesir) in Norse tradition. Depending on his mood, he is alternately helpful or disruptive to the other Gods. I'm not gonna sit and teach a whole text class on him lol but I'll use my favorite example of Misunderstood Loki - the conception of Sleipnir!

So, get this shit. This is also part of why I DO NOT follow Odin and never fucking will (a very small part, but still part of the reason). So, the other Norse Gods are petty motherfuckers, and they wanted some shit built but didn't want to pay the dude doing the building. So they were like "okay, if you can get it done in X amount of time, we'll pay you, but if you can't manage it NO MATTER WHAT, this whole thing is free." And they made sure he had NO help, nothing but him, his materials, and his Very Good Horsey. And this guy and his horse were fucking BAMFs. So it was looking like he was definitely gonna get it done in time, and Odin was like "nah, fuck that shit. I'm cheap." and so he sent Loki to distract the work horse. Loki transformed into a mare and lured the horse away, got fucked, got pregnant, gave birth to the 8-legged (for some reason) horse Sleipnir. Odin rides Loki's son into battle. Um. Kay.

So Loki helped Odin be a petty mf, and Odin got himself a new pet out of the deal.

Oh, also, because he's smart af and a shapeshifter and a master magician and genderfluid, Loki "fails" to fit the super fucking toxic and narrow Norse/Aesir view of "a real man". He prefers intelligence and manipulation to solve problems rather than violence, he's not afraid to behave like a clown if it gets shit done, and that grosses the Aesir out, so they constantly ridicule him for being "less than a man".

Loki is the God of the outcast and the misunderstood. The marginalized people from all walks of life. He is the God of the LGBT community. In modern terms, he's pansexual, polyamorous (married to Sigyn and they are deeply in love, but boy gets around and I've never seen any indication that Sigyn gives a shit) and genderfluid.

Okay. Focus, Ali. This is part of why I usually post multiple rants instead of one big long one XD The longer I ramble, the more I get sidetracked and forget the original point.

So. Loki's awesome, and being a Trickster, is powerful as all fucking hell. There's not much he can't do.

And now we come to Thor (the movie, not the deity). Loki's there! 24-year-old Ali is spazzing! All is right with the world!

Oh lord, they've actually done him justice?! Amazing! He's complex and nuanced and emotional, just like the real Loki! I loved this movie. Loved. It. The climactic thing with trying to blow up Jotunheim never really made much sense to me until someone made an excellent point the other day about Loki being raised in a racist society that was racist against his own race, he just didn't know it yet, poor child. Baby Thor was never corrected when he pledged to commit mass genocide, so Baby Loki probably absorbed the lesson then that Jotunns=evil and killing them all will win his father's love. Anyway, 2011 Loki was a beautiful, heartbreaking portrayal of the God I've loved all my life and spent 24 years longing to see depicted on the big screen.

Then The Avengers happened. And I saw another Loki very close to Norse mythology - mainly, how he's treated. In the beginning of the movie, he's sick, exhausted, and in pain. He can hardly stand, he stumbles and needs help when he walks. He was very obviously tortured, and the sickly blue light of the scepter's control is in his eyes. That gets less and less pronounced as the movie goes on, showing Loki working his way free of it, but in the beginning, he's a mess. Because he was tortured and used by Thanos. Marvel directly confirmed this, and that he was under the scepter's/Mind Stone's control. Loki's actions are not his own in The Avengers. He's under both threat and Thanos' direct control. The movie actually shows The Other directly threatening him to keep him on task, because this is not Loki's plan. It is not what he wants. He's being used and villainized... Just like in real life. It hurt to see this done to him, but the accuracy was too beautiful to ignore.

Thor: The Dark World comes out. I've heard people complain that this movie is the weak link in the Thor trilogy. I disagree. I think that's Ragnarok, for a bunch of reasons, but we'll get there. (And for the record, I loved Ragnarok, too. It was a funny movie. Infinity War and the Disney+ series are the only portrayals of Loki in the MCU that I truly fucking hated.) Anyway, good, fun movie. Had its faults, as all movies do, but it still followed Loki's real-life arc in a way. How? By having Loki dragged back to Asgard in chains and imprisoned underground. Again, not super happy that this happened to my love, and having to see it on screen was painful, but at least in the MCU he's not chained to a rock with venom dripping on his face for eternity, so there's that. (poor Sigyn. how tired do her arms get, holding up that bowl? best wife ever, amirite?)

In TDW, we're shown Loki's love for Frigga, who favored him and taught him magic as a child. We see his bravado; his attempts to mask his true feelings, especially grief. We see him slowly coming back to himself after the events of The Avengers, and slowly mending his relationship with his brother. He accepts that Odin will likely never love him, but Thor just might, because they were close when they were young. "I didn't do it for him." No, no my sweet, you did it for your brother, and a little out of guilt for what happened to your mother.

At the end, Loki fakes his death and escapes, taking the throne, and I have mixed feelings about this. Not the writer's choices here; I love that completely! A natural progression in Loki's story. But my joy is tainted by how closely they're following the Eddas now. Because Loki's escape from his prison heralds the beginning of Ragnarok. And Loki will die in Ragnarok. I don't want to see that play out in front of my face. I won't be able to handle the grief (spoiler alert! IW broke me. I almost walked out of the theater. Loki's death was legitimately fucking traumatic for me. I don't even care how pathetic that is. That grief was real, it was intense, and I still shake and cry when I think about it.)

Marvel announces that Thor 3 will be called Ragnarok. The internet treats this as a shocking revelation. I roll my eyes and mumble "duh" to myself and move on XD

Then they say Ragnarok will be a buddy comedy. I throw up a little in my mouth and no longer want to live on this planet. If they're going to make something called Ragnarok, could they at least treat it with even a fraction of the respect they've shown these characters thusfar? Jfc. I mean, I'll see it anyway, because I'm a whore for Tom Hiddleston lol. But come on, people!

I hated that they made Hel the long-lost older sister and Fenrir her fucking pet/attack dog. Those are my favorites of Loki's children! Hel is such an incredible badass that the early Christians named their dimension of eternal torture after her! They were terrified of her, to the point of naming the place that terrified them most after her. That's awesome! And Fenrir's just the best. I love wolves. Those two details, and Odin's retcon of "we're not Gods! ...lol, except your sister. she's totally a Goddess. and def gonna kill literally everything, so... good luck! byyyeeeee" pissed me off royally.

The rest was great. I genuinely liked this movie. Still do. And they finally used The Immigrant Song! That was pretty cool. If they'd thrown in Bring the Hammer Down and Thunderstruck, I might've called this movie perfect. XD

I wasn't totally in love with their portrayal of Loki in Ragnarok. Yes, the falling for 30 minutes line was funny, as was "I have to get off this planet" and "YES! That's how it feels!" And "Get Help" was funny as hell. But also, like... There is no way Loki would have been the dumb one in that first encounter with Hela. Also, he can teleport and project copies of himself and shit, so... He would not have been that desperate to go straight back to Asgard and bring her right along with them. Loki's not stupid. But whatever. Movie's gotta movie.

What I did love was seeing the slow mending of his relationship with Thor continuing, and the badass fighting on the bridge. I also loved that, like Real Loki, Movie Loki helped when help was needed, was quick and clever, and while he was carrying out the main plan, he was also planning ahead and grabbing the Tesseract. Yes, that drew Thanos right to them, but that's a whole other thing. Loki never would have left that thing on Asgard to be destroyed or lost.

And now Infinity War. Hooooly fucking shit. You know what? No. I'm not going into this. He was killed, years of character growth were erased forever, my heart fucking shattered. The end.

Endgame. IW hurt me so bad I didn't see Endgame until this year. I actually watched Civil War first (for context: I had actively avoided all Cap movies until this year because I fucking hate Steve Rogers. I find him insufferable. Did not realize what I was denying myself until I watched CW and finally saw the charms of Bucky. When he appeared in IW, I was so lost. XD I was like "...who dis? Murder Jesus?" also I just... didn't care. I was numb by then from crying through most of the movie over Loki)

So, anyway. Endgame. Loki picks up the Tesseract in alternate 2012, escapes, fans go "yay! he didn't actually die!" I go "yes he fucking did. Five years of his life, gone. Five years of growth and change, erased. Loki is dead. This will not be the same."

I was more right than I could have predicted. Now we come to the point of this rant. Sorry it took so long, but you were warned lol.

The Loki series makes me so angry I actually get sick to my stomach. It was fucking TRASH. When I praised Marvel for following Norse mythology so faithfully earlier? Yeah. I DID NOT MEAN TREAT HIM THE WAY THE OTHER GODS DID. I did not mean paint him as a pitiful clown, a joke, a caricature of who he truly was, with his pain and suffering played for LAUGHS.

This is supposed to be 2012 Loki, newly freed from Thanos' control. The Loki we saw in the beginning of TDW - snarky, exhausted, nihilistic. The Loki who rolled his eyes and said "get on with it" expecting to be killed.

The bumbling clown flipping on a dime from posturing to calling himself weak is not 2012 Loki. That is not ANY Loki. That is Tom Hiddleston in a black wig doing what he's told by a shitty writer who had no fucking idea what he was doing and was salty about his (bad) original script (for something totally fucking unrelated) getting killed.

In Episode 1, Loki is mocked, imprisoned, stripped against his will, tormented, belittled, and given a flippant summary of all the trauma Actual MCU Loki suffered that this one skipped out on, with no context, no acknowledgement of the trauma he's already lived quite fucking recently, and with the narrative twisted to not only erase all the abuse he's suffered, but to make it all his fault. And this is supposed to make him want to help these people?

And worse, IT FUCKING WORKS. WHAT?! I CAN'T- FUCKING WHAT?! Remember when I said LOKI IS NOT FUCKING STUPID?! So why is he STUPID?

Episode 2, he's a child. Mentally, this Loki is a fucking child. Now we've erased all the growth and development of his entire adult life. He's dopey, impatient, impulsive, desperate for a pat on the back and actually shows it. Yes, abused and neglected children crave the positive attention we never received, and we often grow up to be a bit emotionally stunted. But not all of us, and not Loki. Not as we've seen him EVER in the rest of the MCU. Playful and a bit callous at times? Absolutely! But not a big dumb fucking puppy.

Episode 3, a ray of hope, despite Sylvie! (I hate Sylvie) Loki casually admits he's pan/bi; labels never come up, but he admits to being with both men and women! He sings! Not really relevant to whether I approve of his portrayal or not lol but Tom has a beautiful voice, Norwegian ("Asgardian" lol) is a gorgeous, entrancing language, and I could watch that one bit on loop for eternity and never get bored. And then, finally, we see a glimpse - a glimpse - of Loki's power! He stops a falling building and pushes it right back up! Are we finally getting to see what he can really do? Will the next episode bring us Loki in all his glory?

Nope. 4 and 5 we see him mocked and pushed around and utterly irrelevant. Again. We see tiny reflections of what he could maybe theoretically do in other random Loki variants, but the "main" (lawl. main. it was the Sylvie and Mobius show. Loki was never the main anything.) Loki? Nothing. He wears his heart on his sleeve for no reason, bonds with the man who imprisoned, taunted, and gaslit him, is killed, and continues to be a moron and a joke. Always the clown. Always the dumb one. The one with the bad ideas. The inferior Loki.

Don't even get me started on that finale. I can't. This already took so much out of me. Fuck Marvel. Fuck this fucking show. I just... I'm done.

[fluffykitty1999-blog]

Dog of the Military- Chapter 15

Chapter 15- Morning Courtmartial

And as usual... the ko-fi link, if you like the trash I, a human dumpster fire, product https://ko-fi.com/fluffykitty12

Roy Mustang showed up outside the dorms at 8:30am sharp. It was 8:37 when Edward came racing down the stairs, in his military blues with a large suit of armor clanking hurriedly behind him.

Ed fairly dove into the passenger seat, with Alphonse squeezing into the entirety of the backseat, and Ed turned to look at Mustang like he was possessed. "Drive!"

"Put your seat belt on." Roy said, giving him a look.

Ed frantically did so, and Roy was heading over to central command.

"Shit are we gonna be late? I couldn't find a hair tie that wasn't red I didn't know what the military regulations were so I transmuted it black." Ed's hair wasn't in its trademark braid- rather, it was in a high ponytail behind him. His uniform was a little rumpled, and his collar was a mess, but these were all things that could be fixed.

"Calm down. We're not going to be late, but we won't be able to stop and grab breakfast like I planned either, so you'll have to hold out til lunch." Roy remarked.

Ed nodded, seeming to calm down slightly at this.

"Are you doing okay?" Roy shot his youngest subordinate a look.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Ed said, nodding. Though there wasn't too much belief behind the statement.

"I'm going to be so nervous, waiting upstairs in the office to hear what's going on." Al piped up from the back.

"Try not to worry too much, Alphonse- the team will be watching the proceedings, and they'll come upstairs periodically under the guise of a break to update you."

"Alright." Alphonse seemed to settle for the moment. Edward's leg kept bouncing nervously, and they pulled up outside central command at ten minutes to nine. They parted ways, with Alphonse heading upstairs and Roy and Ed heading towards the courtroom, deeper on the first floor of Central command.

The hallways were busy with people in all sorts of military blues- Ed's eyes widened as he saw everyone assembled. Roy placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, steering him into the men's room just outside the courtroom.

"Do you have to go?" he asked, giving the boy a once-over.

Ed shook his head. "No. Why are we in here, anyways?"

"Because you were getting overwhelmed and I need to touch up your uniform." Roy said calmly. He started with the boy's long military jacket, smoothing out the wrinkles and straightening the boy's rank pins. He moved up to Ed's collar next, folding it down properly, before looking at Ed's hair- he wet his hands in the sink and smoothed down Ed's trademark blond antenna, before nodding and standing up straight. "Much better. You look like quite the solider, Fullmetal."

"Yeah. Now if only I could feel like one. Brigadier General Basque Grand was out there." Ed muttered to himself, looking down at his boots.

"A lot of high profile people are here, Ed. This trial has ruffled some feathers, I'm not gonna lie. But how you carry yourself in there- how you think and behave- will affect how you're treated."

"They'll just look at me like a kid anyways."

"Stop it." Mustang hissed, using two fingers to tilt Edward's chin up so the boy was looking him in the eyes. "I know you're nervous, and you have a right to be, but self pity and doubt have no place here, Edward."

Roy reached down into Edward's pocked, putting out the boy's state alchemist watch and dangling it in front of him. "You are the Fullmetal Alchemist. I watched you put blood sweat and tears into earning this watch. You are a prodigy- you have seen atrocities and come back eager to live on anyways. You are a soldier under my command. I didn't give you this watch. You earned it. You could kick the asses of nearly everyone in that court room, save myself and a few others, without a problem. So you act like it- you look them in the eyes and you tell them everything. I need you to trust me, Edward- if you testify to the best of your abilities, he'll be found guilty. I promise."

Ed looked up at him- eyes that were swimming with uncertainty becoming hard with determination and purpose. The fire was burning bright again, and Ed pursed his lips and nodded. "Alright."

"Don't forget- you're the Fullmetal Alchemist, Hero of the People. Make them remember that."

"I will."

They both turned, exiting the restroom and striding into the courtroom, down the aisles and to their side of the benches. Their court appointed lawyer, Marissa Jennings, was a pretty woman in military blues with dark hair and brown eyes- she nodded to Mustang as they found their seats behind their table. Ed hadn't met the woman, but Roy had had countless meeting with her over the past two weeks to prepare, and he was very familiar with her.

On the other side of the courtroom, behind the small table sat Colonel Banks and Lieutenant Shaw, and the defendant's lawyer, an older, be speckled man in his sixties eith salt and pepper hair and a gray goatee.

Before both tables was the Judge's desk on an elevated platform, and to the left was the bleachers for the jury- a group of about twelve. Behind the tables where the prosecuting and defending parties sat, there was a small wooden railing and benches for spectators to watch.

Roy noted Basque Grand sitting behind Colonel Bank's side of the courtroom, as well as a smattering of unfamiliar soldiers. Banks had clearly brought his men as well.

But it was no match for Ed's side of the courtroom. Havoc, Breda, Falman, Furey, Hawkeye, Scheska, Hughes, Armstrong, and several of the receptionists that Ed would help by fixing broken vases and flower pots all sat at the ready. The proceedings were about to being.

The door to the courtroom flew open, and Roy nearly fell out of his chair. Scowling in the doorway, General Olivier Armstrong strode into the room,her sidearm and sword at her side, with Miles beside her, his sunglasses present as always.

She stalked into the room, and it nearly fell silent, before flopping to sit beside her brother, who sat in support of Edward, exhaling harshly through her nose.

"Olivier- so glad you could make it! You hardly ever respond to my letters." Armstrong had started to sparkle.

Olivier scoffed. "Don't flatter yourself. I came here because I was pissed, not because of that sappy letter. This whole torture fiasco happened at Goldenfield- the North is my territory, and when bullshit happens I like to see who's held accountable." She brushed her bangs from her face. Though Roy didn't miss the way she craned her neck to get a look at Edward.

Who knew- perhaps General Armstrong actually cared?

"All rise- the honorable judge Mason Freeman presiding." the baliff barked. The sound of chairs scraping as everyone in the room hurried to stand was the only sound.

The judge- a rather wise looking man in his sixties- strode to his desk with ease, before he was sitting down. "Good morning. At ease, everyone. Let it be noted on the record today the case of Flame vs Banks has begun."

Everyone sat down, and the judge nodded toward Ed's bench.

"We will begin with the charges brought against the accused. Colonel Roger Banks, you have been accused of the unlawful imprisonment and torture of a state alchemist, Major Edward Elric. How does the accused plead?"

"Not guilty, Sir."

The judge nodded. "Very well. We will hear your arguments shortly. For now, let us proceed with the incident reports received, beginning with the mission report from the Fullmetal Alchemist himself. Jennings?"

The woman representing Ed stood up, shuffling papers. "Of course, your honor. On the fifth of September, Major Edward Elric received orders to head north and conduct a covert mission for the Amestrian military. He returned on the morning of September ninth, as planned, but rather than being allowed to return to Central city and report to his commanding officer, the boy was detained, restrained, beaten, and abused. The medical records show Edward received six cigarette burns to the lower left abdomen, a broken rib, a 3 inch laceration on his left bicep requiring 17 stitches, 3 lacerations on his back, from a knife, one of which required an additional twelve stitches to close, a black eye, and severe contusions to the chest. His mistreatment lasted for a day and a half, at which point his superior arrived, discovered the Major's condition, and got the boy medical help. I will now read, verbatim, the mission reports submitted to the court by Edward Elric and Roy Mustang, followed by the Doctor's report regarding Ed's injuries."

The first hour of the court session was the lawyer reading Ed's mission report, then Mustangs, and continuing on with the doctor's report. Ed was rather relieved that he could just sit and listen. It was clear the woman representing them was more comfortable in a courtroom than he was.

"This concludes my report of evidence from the prosecution, your honor." the woman finished.

The judge nodded. "And does the defendant have any evidence which they wish to present?"

The elder lawyer stood. "Yes, Sir. I am presenting the reports of Colonel Roger Banks and Lieutenant Shaw, verbatim."

"The secret mission Edward Elric was sent on was of immense importance for national security. Following our rendezvous, Edward expressed his interest in returning to Central city as soon as possible. I agreed this was the best course of action, but as the boy's superior, righteously demanded that he give his report and findings to me before leaving. Fullmetal adamantly refused, and when repeatedly prompted, answered with blatant disrespect. Had it been a matter of lesser importance, I would've written the boy up and let him go. But due to the immensely sensitive information the boy had, I felt I could not let him leave without reporting to me. It wasn't in the best interests of the nation."

"Following his staunch refusal and obstinence, I disciplined the boy physically, and continued to do so. I am not a man without conscience, but I had to put the good of the nation over the good of one unruly boy. I was nearly to the point of extracting the information when the boy's commanding officer- who identified himself as the Flame Alchemist- trespassed in my office and intimidated my Lieutenant into taking him to see the boy."

"When I attempted to confront the man for his intrusion into my office and blatant disregard for my command, I was brutally assaulted, receiving first degree burns on my hand, and my life threatened if I refused to leave. By the time I felt it prudent to return, the Flame Alchemist and the Fullmetal Alchemist were gone."

Roy frowned at the report.

The lawyer paused, clearing his throat. "Now- onto the incident report of Lieutenant Margaret Shaw, dated October twentieth-"

Roy's hand touched the table the defense lawyer had her paper's spread out, and he shifted in his seat to sit forward a little.

"Objection!" The lawyer was cut off by their lawyer, and everyone looked over at him, even the judge.

"What is the nature of this objection, Jennings?"

"Mr. Elric was reported to have been scheduled to return from his mission on the ninth of October. His commanding officer retrieved him on the afternoon of the tenth of october. The fact that this report was filed so late is likely due to the fact that Lieutenant Shaw wouldn't have filed a report about the imprisonment and abuse of power at all, had it not been for her commanding officer receiving a summons for court martial a few days earlier and covering her tracks."

"This is all speculation, your honor." the elderly defense lawyer protested, moving his glasses further up his nose.

"Jennings, you may continue, but keep it short." the judge advised, looking interested.

"I'd like to know the date Colonel Banks filed his incident report." Jennings asked.

The defense lawyer shuffled his papers. "October nineteenth was the date Colonel Banks filed his report."

"Interesting. So this alleged abuse of power occurs from the ninth to tenth of October, Colonel Banks is assaulted so viciously by the Flame alchemist in the line of duty, and yet despite all of this, he waits nine days to file a report. And his subordinate, who also witnessed such abuse, files her report one day after. Despite the fact that officers are required to file reports of incidents within forty eight hours. It almost seems as though the defendants were scrambling and after receiving their court summons, sat down and put their story together to avoid any gaps and inconsistencies, and then submitted them a day apart."

"My report is my own, Ma'am. While it is true that Colonel Banks and I discussed the matter after receiving our summons, my report was filed directly to central- Colonel Banks never read it." Lieutenant Shaw spoke up.

"I can attest to this, as I notarized the document." the lawyer agreed.

"I see. Still, the timing is awfully convenient. That's all I have to say on the matter, your honor."

The judge nodded. "The defense may continue."

Lieutenant Shaw's report was read verbatim, as well. It didn't contain the blatant falsehoods Colonel Banks had- rather, Shaw had chosen to stick to facts.

"At approximately 9am Edward Elric returned to our fort and expressed a desire to go home after completing his mission. He proceeded to another room with Colonel Banks and I didn't see him afterwards. At approximately 10am, I received a call from the boy's commanding officer, inquiring if Edward had returned as planned. I confirmed that Edward Elric had indeed returned and that he intended to get a train out of central soon."

"In the afternoon, at approximately 1pm, Colonel Banks was stepping out for lunch. I still had not seen Major Elric and inquired if he'd purchased his train ticket home yet, as he seemed eager to do in the morning. Colonel Banks said the boy was resting upstairs before he left, tired from his mission. I noticed the Colonel carrying Elric's black coat and inquired why- he told me he was going to get it cleaned for the boy so he could travel home in comfort."

"At the end of the day, I still had not seen Edward. I stepped into the Colonel's office to say goodnight to my commanding officer, and found him sititng at his desk. On his desk, was Elric's coat, cut into scraps. I asked the Colonel if Edward had left yet. Colonel Banks confirmed my suspicions that Edward was still in the building, but said it was a matter of national security that he get the information from the boy. I was in no position to argue with my superior, so I quietly left. On a hunch, I went downstairs to the cells where unruly citizens are kept and found Major Elric hung from the wall by his wrists, dirty and in some degree of pain. He looked up at me and asked if I was there to burn him as well. I asked him how I could help- he asked me for water. I brought him a mug of it and gave it to him quickly before leaving for the night. I trusted my commanding officer to handle the issue."

"Colonel Banks instructed me to have all questions about the Fullmetal Alchemist's condition forwarded to him. I followed these orders, forwarding the phone inquiry of the Flame Alchemist to Colonel Banks early in the morning. That afternoon, however, when the Flame Alchemist arrived, he was quite agitated, and I thought it prudent to show him to Elric immediately to avoid further conflict. Colonel Banks went to speak to the man and returned with a burned hand a destroyed firearm. After I treated my commanding officer for his injuries, I took the suitcase Elric had left in our fort in the room he'd stayed in previously and dropped it off at the local inn on the hunch they were staying there."

Colonel Banks looked over at Margaret, a bit of disapproval behind his eyes, but not much of it.

"Your honor." Jennings, dark haired and bold as always, spoke up. "I would like to ask Lieutenant Shaw a few more questions."

"In due time, Jennings." the judge frowned, squinting at the courtroom clock. "It's nearly noon. I declare a half hour recess, and then we will reconvene for cross-examination of the involved parties. Adjourned." the judge slammed his gavel down, and the courtroom broke into a flurry of activity as everyone rose to grab lunch.

Team Mustang normally would've gathered in the cafeteria, but since Alphonse was stuck upstairs in the office, they elected to grab food and eat with him. Plus, seeing Ed was likely to ease his mind.

Ed grabbed a ham sandwich as they hurried upstairs.

"Nice job Chief!" Havoc clapped a hand on his shoulder as he sat on Mustang's couch and started to eat. "I don't think I've ever seen you sit still for that long before!"

Ed had to fight the blush creeping up his cheeks.

"How was it, brother? Are you alright?" Al asked.

Ed took a bite of his sandwich. "I'm fine. I didn't have to do much of anything, it was mostly lawyers reading reports and making statements."

"Still, you seem to be making quite the case. The lawyer representing you- Jennings- is on her game." Hawkeye spoke up.

"Yes, she certainly is." Roy conceded. Probably because he'd spent over six hours with her going over the particulars of the case this past week. But still, she was tenacious and on the ball, and Roy liked her.

The door to the office burst open, and Hughes came running in. "Ed! You did great out there! Were you nervous?"

"A little." Ed took another bite of his sandwich and chewed.

"Right." the light reflected off Hughes glasses, showing his seriousness, as he stepped forward. "Well, this afternoon they're going to do the cross examinations. So you'll have to go up on the witness stand and answer questions about your report. Everyone will be watching. So you're going to need to have nerves of steel and think on your feet. They'll do anything they can to make you slip up."

"R-right." Ed was looking nervous.

"I figured you'd be stressed, so I brought some pictures of my darling Elicia to help calm your nerves!" Roy was right back to his fawning father self, pulling out a rather large stack of photos. "Here she is in her footie pajamas, and here she is with her new teddy bear..."

Hawkeye exchanged glances with Roy. They let Hughes ramble on for a few more minutes before Hawkeye was shooing him out of the office.

"You should finish that sandwich up- we have to head back down soon." Roy nodded to Ed, looking at the clock.

"I'm done." Ed said simply, setting down the half-eaten sandwich and standing. Ed hardly ate anything- that meant he was nervous.

Roy placed a hand on his shoulder as they ducked out of the office and headed back towards the courtroom. No matter what was to come in cross examinations- he'd do his best to protect Ed.

[shiftytracts]

Stop Wanting More, part 1 of 2 (T/M/A fic)

In which season-four Jon tries to quiet his hunger for live statements by gorging himself on paper ones, and Daisy tells him what she used to do when she got shaky between hunts. Part two here.

…For almost ten thousand words (~5.1k in this half, ~4.3 in the other), beeeecause of course I did.

Content warnings:

Disordered eating (mainly of the statement variety, but mentions also the literal kind)

Nausea, and brief descriptions of prior vomiting

Brief but not-ungraphic description of Jon’s (canon) Boneturning incident—so, injury, very mild body horror

Vague discussion of Daisy’s passive suicidality (in part two)

Animal cruelty and death: Daisy talks about hunting rats for sport (in part two)

—

Jon paused the tape recorder, closed his eyes, and tried to breathe. A statement’s second-to-last page was the hardest to get down. The dull ache that had begun under his ribs twenty minutes before now stretched down far enough to converge with the one in his stiff hips. His pulse throbbed in his stomach; he could feel it swell and recede beneath his hand with every beat. Nausea boomeranged up from somewhere under his navel. He reminded himself he could stop for now, finish this later—and, as always, that thought made him feel even colder than the sludge of other people’s fear pooling in his stomach. With his free hand Jon pressed Record again, and turned to 0101702’s final page. Oh, god, there was barely anything on it. Just the rest of this paragraph and then one more. He kept his eyes on the page, didn’t stop speaking its words, but fumbled blindly for another statement with his fingers.

“Knock knock,” Daisy said as she entered. “Christ—you’re still recording?”

In a flash Jon folded his hands on the table, sat up a little straighter, tried to suck in his gut. “Er—”

“Thought you said you were gonna do one more.”

“I’m almost done.”

“You’ve got another one right there.”

“I…” he considered I’m sorry, but then she’d say For what. “I don’t know what to tell you. It is my office.”

“Yeah, and your home,” Daisy scoffed—“and mine. Sort of.”

“D—did you want…? You’re welcome, to. Sit down, or….”

She did, on the arm of his couch. “I know, Jon. That’s not what I meant.”

“Okay.” To show he’d meant his welcome, Jon pushed his chair back from his desk and turned in it to face Daisy. Hopefully she’d remember he couldn’t ask What did you mean.

“I mean, don’t pretend this is work. How many statements have you had today? You don’t think that one can wait til tomorrow?”

Seven? Or would this one be eight. Jon forced himself to exhale out the portion of gut he’d been holding back since she arrived; it hurt too much to keep sucking in anyway. “A lot. I’m just.”

“Hungry, yeah.”

“Even when I’m stuffed I’m hungry.” He snarled a laugh, and set a rueful hand over his stomach like a fig leaf.

At first he’d tried sating the hunger with garden-variety food. That didn’t help much. Way back when he’d first transferred to the Archives Jon had fallen back into the old habit of forgetting to eat—which, yeah, not great, but, it did mean he remembered well how amazing it used to feel to cram down even a stale biscuit after too many hours’ inanition. All the hidden notes he’d found in yogurt and dry toast. He even remembered tearing up once at the taste of a banana, early in 2016. Before that he’d been sure he didn’t like bananas; afterward, for a short while he’d eaten one nearly every day, hoping vainly to recapture the ecstasy of banana after 14-hour fast. No luck, of course. After a few weeks he’d concluded he still didn’t much like banana as final course of healthy lunch. He’d especially disliked peeling them: how sometimes the stems bent without breaking, and the more times you tried the warmer, softer, more flexible they got. How little strings of peel still clung to the banana after you peeled off its main body, like static when you pull off a jumper. Or like the lint it leaves behind on your shirt. And the way bananas bruise, like people do. All these vestiges of its previous life—reminders it had lived to feed itself rather than him.

Since the coma, all people food—er. That was, all food intended for human consumption—tasted like that chase after a faded spark. Cloying and mushy and… organic, reminding him too much of the garden it came from. And the way it landed in his stomach was far worse. The original banana, the one Martin had pressed on him in the Archives in April 2016, had gone down like nectar, ambrosia, manna from heaven, &c.; the ones afterward, like an unwanted dessert always does. (Cloying. Mushy. A biology lesson mildly tapping its watch.) These days, though, eating regular dinner on a stomach empty of other people’s trauma felt like trying to fill up on cake. Not like cake after fourteen hours of nothing; Jon was pretty sure his 2016 stomach would have welcomed that. But like cake at dinner time. When you’re expecting, you know. Dinner. It gave him the brief, fake-seeming energy of a sugar high, and made him sick before it made him full.

Especially when he was otherwise ailing, for some reason? After Hopworth he’d treated himself to a lie down and a sandwich. The rest had helped, but he’d squandered most of the energy it gave him on the effort to keep the sandwich down. At that moment nothing, not even the coffin, had scared him so much as the thought of what it would feel like to throw up when you had only ten ribs on one side. He hadn’t expected losing them to hurt, at least not for long—had expected the rib to flow out of his skin into Jared Hopworth’s hand like an ice cube through water, which in retrospect was stupid given the testimony of Mr. Pryor in statement 0081103, but he hadn’t had time to reread that one beforehand and at the time Jon remembered only that Hopworth didn’t break his victims’ skin when he pulled out their bones. Turned out that wasn’t much comfort: he’d still had to break the ligaments attaching Jon’s ribs to his spine and chest. It had felt like a bad dislocation (four of them, technically), only instead of the feeling of bone pressing on things it shouldn’t there was an equally violating sense of tissue wallowing in holes that shouldn’t be there. He’d had this horror that if he were sick the flesh would crumple and pop where his ribs used to be, like when you try to suck the remaining water out of a near-empty bottle.

A few months after that he’d caught cold. (A point in the still-human column, Daisy had called it.) You know the first day or two of a cold, before the encroaching mucus takes out your ability to smell or taste properly, how innocuous olfactory phenomena like cheddar and laundry soap suddenly become Bad Smells, on par with the olive bar at a posh supermarket? Well, in a similar way, this one seemed to sharpen the dichotomy in his body’s opinions of people food and monster food. His lack-of-ribs had mostly healed by then though, so either vomiting with only ten ribs on one side did not cause the anomaly he’d feared, or, if it did, it hadn’t hurt enough for him to notice it in the cacophony (pucophony?) of other sensations.

(Daisy liked to play on words, so he’d been doing it more lately. This project the Eye seemed happy to help with, though in this case the suggestion arrived in his mind at the exact same moment as a reminder that, technically, the word cacophony can apply to sensations other than sound only by synecdoche.)

And then, a few weeks ago, when the whole Archives went down with norovirus… well, it wasn’t a fun time. He’d at first mistook the lethargy, weakness, trouble concentrating for signs of hunger—the new kind of hunger. Ms. Mullen-Jones’ statement about the Divine Chains cult hadn’t seemed all that bad, when he’d first recorded it. Scarier than if he’d read its events in a novel, of course; that was just how statements worked. He experienced them more vividly than stories, though less so than the events of his own life. (Because the people they happened to thought they were real! he’d told himself when he first took this job. It’s empathy, that’s all. Nope, sorry—evil magic.) When he read a paper statement these days, though, the knowledge it wouldn’t give him nightmares never quite left him. And he’d thought he was growing desensitized to the kinds of horror most people came to the Institute to report. Coming back up, though—maybe it was the fever, but god, the visions he got on that statement’s way out, of Agape and the soft, sticky hivecorpse of Claude Vilakazi’s followers—the way it made the donut he’d shoved down that morning (in a show of team spirit, god help him) come back up tasting like rotten rice wine—it was worse than the dreams. Worse, he could have sworn, than even the first time he ever dreamt Naomi Herne’s empty graveyard.

While hanging over the bowl of the Archives’ toilet waiting to see if he’d got it all up or if there was still more to come, Jon remembered thinking again of the banana Martin had given him. A few days earlier Daisy had made him watch the video of the I don’t understand this meme and at this point I’m too afraid to ask man vore-ing a banana; Jon had confessed to her, in a conspiratorial whisper-laugh, that for him vore itself had been one such meme until that very second, when the Eye had seen fit to inform him. But when applied to a banana, the term apparently just meant eating it peel and all. In 2016 Martin had broken the banana’s stem and pulled back a section of peel before handing it to Jon, so as to brook no argument. Was it really the banana itself he’d cried over? Not the gesture of friendship, when Jon deserved it so little? The thought of someone caring for him enough that when he got hangry at them they handed him a snack. Martin had been living in the Archives then, like Jon did now. Sleeping in Document Storage—a guest in a room owned by pieces of paper. Those bananas may have been the only thing that felt like his.

A Guest for Mr. Spider was about vore, technically. Not an uncommon topic in children’s literature. Some surmised that was where the fetish came from, though others maintained kinks like that were inborn, and the stories merely alerted their hosts to them for the first time. Red riding hood, three little pigs, little old lady who swallowed a fly. The Leitner touch was only the part where he drew you to his real-life lair and real-life ate you.

Looking back, that was probably the first thing he’d ever admired about Martin—how easy he’d made it look to skin a fruit. Not at the time admired, of course, but in those weeks afterward, when every banana Jon ate made him claw at the peel til his finger joints throbbed.

That stomach bug had struck the Archives with serendipitous timing, though. If he’d not found out how thin abstinence from the Hunt had made Daisy on the same day he’d barfed up a statement, Jon might not have pieced together what their combined evidence meant. Until then he’d put down his own post-coma weight loss to the fact he rarely ate more people food than a donut in twenty-four hours. Lots of avatars were scrawny, after all. Jane Prentiss, Mike Crew, Justin Gough, Annabelle Cane, John Amherst, Simon Fairchild. Jude Perry and Jared Hopworth could mold their respective fleshes however they wanted, so he didn’t count them as exceptions. True, Trevor Herbert’s bulk had struck him as odd; surely a homeless man wouldn’t waste cash on food his body no longer wanted. And what about Breekon and Hope? Did butterflies and a quartermaster’s pen and tongue sustain them? But maybe, Jon had told himself, it was like with alcohol. Maybe the avatars with more flesh on their bones had worked to develop a tolerance for (air quotes, heavy sarcasm) people food, for the sake of their physiques, or. So they could, he didn't know, eat socially? Without feeling sick, like Jon did whenever one of the others brought donuts.

Preposterously stupid, this theory seemed in retrospect. The truth was much simpler. It was like Jude Perry’d told him. She was strong and he was weak, because she fed her god with her actions, while Jon’s had had to resort to eating his flesh.

He wasn’t going back to live statements! That wasn’t an option; he knew that. He couldn’t feed his god with his actions. But he could have more paper ones. Maybe they were like the candles poor Eugene Vanderstock used to bring Agnes—the ones she’d sat over for hours. Hours and hours, inhaling the suffering that made them. They’d kept her strong enough, right? At least in body. All those people in charge of her care, all so much in her thrall—if she’d looked hungry one of them would’ve mentioned it in a statement.

During Jon’s school days, back when he was still trying to learn how to be a girl, this brief window had opened up right around age thirteen where the girls around him had enough self-consciousness to start developing eating disorders? But not enough to keep them secret. Thirteen had been this phase of, like, I’m a teenager now, see? I’ve got the teen angst now—SEE?! Where after they’d finished the day’s maths assignment, or while setting up microscope slides, one could overhear girls swapping self-harm anecdotes and tips for how best not to eat. Anne, whom he’d been almost friends with, went through two packs of chewing gum a day for a while. She would shove three or four sticks at a time in her mouth, then spit them back out into their wrappers as soon as they lost their flavor. Eventually they made her sick, and she switched to chain-sucking butterscotch discs. (Most artificial sweeteners, as the Eye now informed him, had mild laxative properties—including those used in gum.) Other acquaintances had brought comically large thermoses of coffee to school every day, and scurried to the toilet between classes. But it was another polyurious crowd that Jon kept thinking of, these days—the kids who would chug water every time they felt hungry. Trying to fill up on paper statements felt just like that.

He’d never understood that urge until now. Hunger was already a bad sensation; why would it help to add the further bad sensations of nausea and stomachache and cold? But now it made sense: feeling better was not the point. The point was to stop wanting more. He couldn’t get rid of the hunger, exactly—not in a way that mattered. Not the shards of glass in his belly, not the itch in his esophagus like a finger tapping behind his gag reflex, not the way simple motions like soaping his hands made his whole body ache. Not the sharpening of his senses to such a fine point that he jumped whenever Thérèse in the office above him shut her desk’s sticky drawer. (He hadn’t known that was what made the squeaky noise until a few weeks ago when the Eye decided he might like some office gossip. Even now he didn’t know which of the faces he sometimes passed up there belonged to Thérèse. She had no statements to make.) Nor the fog in his mind, though he tried sometimes to blame that on the Lonely. He couldn’t sate his hunger with paper statements—couldn’t make himself full, in the rosy way we usually connote that word. All warm and carefree and pleasantly sleepy. But he could cram the hole inside him with enough stale horrors that the temptation to chase down a fresh one momentarily left him.

And that was the new plan—to stuff himself with paper statements.

Tomorrow would mark two weeks since the day he’d first tried it. Brian from Artefact Storage had a statement to give him, Jon could feel—either Stranger or Spiral, it was hard to tell quite which. Something that caused paranoia. Not a great fit for that department. Good fit for a temple of the Eye, Jon supposed, remembering Tim and Michael Shelley. But Artefact Storage? God help him. He wondered if Elias had done it on purpose, hiring a paranoid man to work in a room full of objects that wanted him hurt. If so it must’ve been this one—this purpose. And on Wednesday mornings Brian manned the place all alone. Poor soul was already clinging to this job by a thread, though (so, Web…? That could cause paranoia too, as Jon well knew). Surely if Jon made him relive his trauma that would break it. Though perhaps that’d be a mercy. And but besides, two weeks ago Melanie had still lived here, and sat all morning between Jon’s office and Artefact Storage. Until she went to lunch. But by that time the woman whose laugh Jon could sometimes hear through the walls (Pooja, the Eye had since told him her name was) would have joined Brian. And it’d just be too weird, too risky, to go in and ask him about it with a third person in the room. Even if it wasn’t also evil.

So he’d read 0132210—the statement of Sierra Talbot, regarding a swimming pool whose depth changed every time she entered it—in hopes that’d make him quit thinking about the paranoid man down the hall. It didn’t, not really; paper statements didn’t take up as much of his attention as they used to. But he couldn’t get up and walk to Artefact Storage in the middle of one. When he finished and still couldn’t think of anything but Brian, he dug out another statement (this one from 1938, regarding a bad penny). Just to keep himself chained to his desk til lunch. And then a third (Liza Ho, attack of the killer seagulls). And by the end of that one he felt too heavy and cold inside to want to go anywhere but the couch. It made his stomach swell until it hurt to sit up straight, and the thought of shoving anything more inside made him feel sick—exactly like chugging water every time he felt hungry.

Basira had said maybe the Web just wanted to keep them so afraid of their own impulses they sat and did nothing so they couldn’t be puppeted. Maybe she was right. He’d never felt more like a spider, with his weak, skinny limbs and bloated stomach. Lying on the couch massaging other people’s horrors into more comfortable shapes inside him. Thank god he’d already given up tucking in his shirts, when he came back after the coma. Jon had worn the same trousers for three days in a row, now—shucked them off at the end of the day, hoping if he left them on the floor that’d convince him they were too dirty to wear again, and then slipped them back on over clean boxers in the morning. They were the only trousers he had that stayed up with the button left unfastened.

(Technically, the noun bloat refers to the feeling of weight or tightness in the abdomen. To describe a belly which has expanded beyond its typical size, one should use the word distended. Though these phenomena can occur separately, most people conflate them under the single word bloated. This trivia had seemed worthless when Beholding told him of it. But now he knew better. Every morning he woke up feeling like he’d had his whole torso replaced with the aching void of space, empty but for silver glints of pain that were the stars. And then he’d look down and find his belly still distended.)

Melanie and Basira didn’t know—at least not officially. They both seemed to have noticed how much more often lately they’d walked in on him recording, but Jon was pretty sure they suspected him less of bingeing on statements, more of pretending to record so as to avoid talking to them. He welcomed this misapprehension.

It was also possible they knew but declined to comment, since. Well, it was kind of a pathetic habit? Physically, a bit pathetic. Morally, though, such a big improvement over compelling statements by force that maybe they figured they ought to let him have it. If so he should be grateful, he reminded himself. Their pity, after all, was humiliating only in principle; Daisy’s teasing and concerned questions embarrassed him in practice.

“Enough navelgazing,” Daisy scoffed, but when Jon looked over at her he could see a smile creeping its way onto her face. “Look—finish the one you’re on, then come over here and I’ll. Tell you a story.”

“I—what?”

“Don’t know if it’ll count as a ‘statement,’” she said, with air quotes; “not much fear in it, more just.” She looked at the floor, then shrugged. “But it seems worth a try, yeah? Might make you feel better.”

“I-I, er. I really shouldn’t?” He meant in case it had a taste of human blood effect, but set his hand on his stomach again in hopes she’d think he meant he was too full.

“Yeah, you should. I want you to hear it.” Daisy shrugged again. “Think it might do you good to know.”

Jon turned back to his desk, unpaused the recording and wrapped up the statement. He’d quit bothering to record end notes on most of these—told himself he could add them in later, like he used to when he’d first taken this job. How proud 2016 Jon would have been to see how many statements the 2018 Archivist got through in a week.

He paused for a moment before standing up, to take as deep a breath as he could manage when stuffed full of paper. The end of that statement had gone down easier, since he’d had that few minutes’ break talking to Daisy, but he still didn’t love the idea of standing and walking. Especially since he knew once he got to the couch he’d be glued there by fatigue. If he didn’t pee now, he’d spend most of the night far enough into sleep to be paralyzed, but not far enough to numb his bladder. He excused himself to Daisy, promising to come right back. Then hauled himself up, with help from his cane and one arm of his chair.

Six limbs it took to maneuver this body now. Two more and he’d’ve gone full spider.

Three quarters of the way to the bathroom—that’s how long it took before the ache in his legs outpaced that in his stomach. He arrived on the toilet seat shaky and out of breath, as always. Months ago he’d given up standing to pee. When you sat you could rock back and forth, and cross your arms tight over waves of quease.

Not much came out, as was also usual lately. As far as Jon could tell, his body now required only enough water to keep his mouth from drying out while recording. Dehydration no longer made his head hurt, so, why bother. Good thing, too, he supposed—the last two weeks he hadn’t needed much non-metaphorical water inside for his body to parse that as needing to pee.

He let his trousers stay pooled around his ankles until after he’d washed and dried his hands. Then pulled up his shirt, to judge from his reflection whether they’d stay up with the fly undone. If he kept his hands in his pockets, yeah. Could you tell the difference, visually, once he put his shirt tails back down? Not for such a short distance. They wouldn’t have time to get disarranged.

It didn’t matter; Basira didn’t even glance at him on his way back, and all Institute staff who didn’t live here had gone home.

Jon opened the door to his office, said hello to Daisy but didn’t manage to look at her, and sat himself down on the other side of the couch. From the corner of his eye (or someone’s anyway) he saw her rise to her feet. “I’m gonna pee too,” she told him, picking her way toward the door; “get yourself comfortable, like you’re going to bed.”

“Where will you sit.”

“I’ll squeeze in.”

“I don’t mind leaving room for—?” Finally he made himself look up at her, in time to see her shake her head. Daisy hadn’t been strong on her feet either, since the Buried; she held herself up now with a hand on the doorjamb, elbow bent so her shoulder leant against that wrist. He regretted quibbling. “Never mind; I’ll just.”

“Really? You’re comfortable like that? You look like a sheep in clover.”

The knowledge came to him before he could ask her what that meant—complete with a nasty visual of what happens in cases acute enough to require rumenotomy. Jon swore he could feel himself swelling to accommodate this tidbit. His eye twitched in discomfort.

“Think I prefer ‘windbag,’ if it’s all the same to you.”

She made a face like that was grosser than what she had said. “You ruined my joke. I was gonna say I won’t let you have any more leaves til you look less like you might explode.”

“Sheep in clover suffocate,” Jon frowned; “they don’t explode. You must be thinking of how they cure them when—”

“Leaves. In. A. Book, Jon. That joke.”

“Oh. Yes, I see.” He made himself chuckle.

Daisy sighed and shifted on her feet. “I’ll be right back. Just lie down, alright? Like you’re going to bed.”

Jon agreed to lie down, but couldn’t decide whether to face the wall (as he would to sleep), leaving her to slide in between him and the back of the couch the way she had a few times before when she’d walked in on him catnapping, or whether he should lie on his back, where he could see her as soon as she opened the door. It was important to make sure she knew he appreciated her offer to give him a statement. Or, no—to tell him her story, he meant.

Ultimately he picked the latter course.

“You sleep like that?”

“Sometimes."

“I’ve never seen you sleep like that. You always face the wall.” Daisy crossed her arms, blew hair out of her face. “That for the tummy ache, or for me?”

“Uh….”

“Would it hurt you to face the wall.”

“No, I just.”

“Turn around, then. I’ll squeeze in,” she said again.

“I-if you’re sure.”

He rolled onto his side, gritting his teeth as the cramps in his stomach swirled in new directions. What made it slosh like that, he wondered. While he fought to regain his breath Jon watched Daisy climb up onto the back of the couch on shaking elbows and knees, then avalanche down hands- and feet-first so she fit between him and its cushions. He’d never watched her do this before—always either startled out of a doze at the sound of her thumping down next to him, or simply woken up to find her there.

“You’re just like the Admiral,” he informed her.

“True words spoken in jest,” muttered Daisy. Too quietly for him to hear what she said over the couch’s tortured creaks, but half a second after she finished speaking the words appeared before his mind, in white, all-capital letters with a black background like closed captions on the news. “That’s Georgie’s cat, right?” she said aloud.

“Yes.”

Her knee jostled the cap of his; when it made him gasp she snarled under her breath. “Sorry. Can you move your leg?”

“Yes, it’s fine, just—”

“I mean would you move your leg.”

“Oh.” He did so.

“Thanks. Ugh—you’re cold,” Daisy accused him; “where’s that blanket.” He pointed behind her to the arm of the couch where it lay folded. She shook it out, and draped it over both of them. Reached around behind him to make sure it covered his whole back. Jon tried to ignore the way his stomach lurched every time Daisy’s weight shifted against the cushions. Finally she settled next to him to catch her breath. Their foreheads touched; her stomach pressed into his, though not as tightly as the last time they’d lain like this. “Can you breathe or am I crushing you?”

“Not at all, you’re fine—in fact, if the couch cushions are chafing you too much you can—”

Daisy huffed, and scooted herself in closer to him. “That better?” She set her warm hand down right where his belly diverged from pelvis. Jon tried to keep both voice and tremor out of his exhale. Since the coffin, Daisy’s hands and feet suffered at night and after any exertion from the same excess of heat his sometimes did. So the cold inside him probably felt nice on her hand, if not to the rest of her.

(Like snuggling up to a hotel mattress, she’d described it, after the first time she joined him for a nap when he’d just had a statement. Cold, hard, covered in lumps and dents, and creaks when you roll over on it. “I’d prefer you didn’t,” he’d replied, while praying her elbow wouldn’t come any closer to the crevasse where his ribs used to be.)

“Christ you’re stuffed,” commented Daisy. For emphasis she lifted her fingers, then set them back down on his gut.

“I don’t know what you expected.”

“You won’t pop if I tell you a story?”

“Not literally,” Jon said, blinking.

“Of course not literally,” she scoffed; “you know what I mean.”

“Do I?”

“Will it make you sick. Don’t want you throwing up on me; this is Melanie’s shirt. If you ruin it she’ll hit us with her cane, and I don’t trust you to hit as hard back with yours.”

“Mine’s shorter and thicker,” he mused. “I don’t have to hit as hard.”

“Stop. Avoiding. The question.”

Jon sighed to show her he capitulated. Then thought about it. He felt cold and sick, but the idea of saying no to a statement made those feelings worse, not better. And the sharp clusters of pain in his belly were harder to sleep through than quease.

“I’ll be fine,” he decided. “It’ll help.”

“Alright. When you’re ready, ask me what I used to do when I got shaky between hunts.”

--

Read part two here.

[optimistic-dinosaur-nacho]

Eat Sh*t, Or That

Ransom Drysdale x Fem!Reader

Warnings: [SPOILERS TO KNIVES OUT] Vomiting, Blood, Language, Mild Physical Abuse, Attempt Murder, Dark!Ransom, Slight Sexual Content (Men should not put his hands on another woman, this is a warning but this should not have the right for someone to put their hands on someone like this)

Summary: You and Ransom are a toxic couple, you treat him the way he treats you. You find ways to get rid of him, but either you or him keep crawling back to one another. At the end, you find the true side of him.

Author’s note: Just like I said, either way this is a warning and that this won’t stop a man from putting his hands on a woman, he should never do it in the first place. If abuse is not your taste. You may abandoned this story and never come back to it cause I care. That’s facts. By all means... Didn’t proofread it, I’m sorry if there are a few mistakes

Love you! Word count is 4800+

~~~~~~~~

Easter Day 2019

The big family was having a big Easter hunt, of course, they didn’t have much of little kids, Jacob and Meg were the younger two. Linda made it special for some of them, hiding plastic eggs either with candy or money. Jacob didn’t participate in it, he sat in the corner on his phone. Trolling his way through his expensive device, Meg was with her mother Joni throughout the whole family gathering. 

Her father Neil died and so she was left with her mother. Joni was sister-in-law with Linda and Walt. Those two were the remaining children of Harlan Thrombey. Walt was the father of Jacob along with his wife, Donna. Linda was married to Richard Drysdale, then they had their son, Hugh Ransom Drysdale. A bratty playboy who managed to have a toxic relationship with Y/N L/N. 

The whole family would see them come in without holding hands, usually Linda would see Y/N come in first before Ransom followed behind her, furious as ever.

Linda would have small talk with Y/N about her son. Understanding her son is a rich-cocky-dumb-sweater-asshole who can’t keep up with a relationship. He kept coming for her, he would threaten her about her job and say she will be fired.

Then there was Harlan’s nurse who comes very often to take care of him. Harlan met Y/N the first time Ransom hadn’t introduced her to him, she went up and greeted him herself. After that long conversation with Harlan and Y/N, Ransom had a heated argument about that with her after the small get together on their way back home.

Every day when they drive anywhere, everything goes downhill. Every to him becomes a problem. They at least go at it three times a day. It’s gone to the point where he threatens to hit her. Yes, he got in a few but he knew she threw it harder ones.

Dogs in the backyard will go at it when they’re screaming in another room.

And that’s what was going on today. Y/N and Ransom screaming at each other in Harlan’s office. Luckily Harlan was in the living room with his family, almost half the family was listening to their heated conversation. Jacob was tempted to record.

“I’m warning you!” Ransom shouts.

Y/N threw her arms out, her scarf flying up before falling back down at her out burst. “Don’t think I don’t know what you do when I’m not home!” She shouts.

He placed his hands on his hips and he grins, “And what’s that?”

“You’re fucking other girls! What? Am I too soft for you? Am I such a dumb baby that you don’t wanna fuck? Is that it?” She shouts, emphasizing the ‘dumb baby’ the nickname he calls her when she’s acting up like this.

His teeth grit against each other, she saw the tension in his jaw. “Believe me or not. But I’m sure I didn’t buy pink panties with cherries on them, pig!”

His eyebrows raise, “Pig?” He asked. “Yep!” She pops the ‘p’ with her hands on her hips. Her long white coat was hanging half way down her thighs. An outfit his mother Linda bought her for Christmas last year. 

He laughs, his body turns the slightest before she sees his arm swing out and her head turns. The impact causes her cheek to sting. The tears never stung her eyes either, she was pissed. The first time he had hit her, she did cry. More after that, she grew familiar to his girl-like smacks.

She laughs lightly, her finger touching her lip to see if she bled from there. Nothing. Asshole. “You’re a fucking asshole, Hugh.”

“Don’t call me that,” He scrunches his face up almost in disgust. “Was Pig better?” She snapped. Ransom turns her head to her and grabs her coat, tugging her forward.

Her hands immediately shoved him off and she whacks her palm across his cheek. A loud groan came from him. Yeah. That hurt like a bitch didn’t it?

He held his hand to his cheek, glaring at her. “You’ll pay for that.”

“I’ll gladly pay it for another slap or a damn kick to that friend that hides between your damn legs like a puppy and its tail.” Ransom never budged. Y/N took this advantage and picked up her scarf that slipped off her neck. “I’m walking home. I’ll be sleeping on the couch as well. Don’t bother, asshole.” He watched her walk out the doors and she said goodbye to the family before passing the door again and left the home.

Panting heavily, his fists clench and Ransom storms out of the office, heading into the living room for his coat. “Ransom, what happened? Where are you going?” Linda asked, Ransom doesn’t reply and snatched his coat from the chair.

“Ransom!” Linda calls.

“I’m going out to drink,” He says, completely irritated. The next thing they heard was the slam of the front door. Silently, the family looked at each other. Easter didn’t turn out so well. But maybe fourth of July would turn out better.

Maybe.

Fourth of July

Yes. This didn’t turn out as good as Linda hoped. After a few months after Easter, Ransom and Y/N never really contacted the family to apologize for what happened on that day. Linda invited the two again, this time, Y/N was quiet throughout the whole party. Every now and then, she would go and grab a glass of wine, even get Jacob some juice. Y/N slightly chatted with Marta, who was hanging off to the side.

Linda offered Y/N and Ransom to sleep in one of the guest bedrooms in the house. Y/N agreed to do that just after Ransom rudely declined but he had no choice. I mean, he could leave Y/N in the bed alone and just go out for a drink again. He was pissed to hear that Y/N wanted to be with this family. Maybe she wanted to stay away from him. 

She didn’t want to argue about some stupid spend-the-night-with-family. So, she ignored Ransom much as possible. The Thrombey and Drysdale’s all laughed and chatted. Ransom was sitting on the couch with his uncle, Walt and his wife, while Y/N was sitting in the one chair with a small table that separated the toxic couple. 

Ransom would glance at her, watching her fingers drag along that glass of wine. Oh, how he loved those fingers wrapped around his-

“So, Ransom,” Linda cuts his thoughts, “We haven’t heard from you two since... Easter? How’s it been?” Linda asked, “Was it the job?” Ransom turned his head to his mother. “No. I just...” He looked over to Y/N who wasn’t even gonna help him with this. Everyone knew they probably argued through those whole months.

“We just wanted some time on our own. You know? We went out to the store, went out for walks. Right, babe?” The way he said ‘babe’, Y/N knew he wanted to get her attention but also a warning tone to let her know, if she mentions something to the family, she’ll end up somewhere.

Her eyes look over to him in the most annoyed face that he would’ve knocked off her face. She smiled at his mother, “Yes. He bought me these boots,” She lifted up her ankle to show off the dark brown leather boots that went with her dark jeans, a sweater and a tan coat. 

To be honest, she felt disgusted to be twinning close with Ransom’s outfit.

Linda smiled at them, “How lovely, Ransom. You have taste.”

“She gets what she wants,” He says in a monotone, taking his gaze back to her once again. Y/N looked at him, seeing the cold stare that she had given it back at him. Silence fell between them again and Linda changed the subject with Walt’s family.

Y/N wanted to go to bed at that hour, now. Not wanting to hear his stupid voice and have her name slip past his lips again. She went for her glass but realized it was empty and she stood up. Catching her stand up, Ransom watched her head into the kitchen. He then stands up and follows her, excusing himself as he makes his way over.

Y/N dug through the wine cellar shelf, looking over the bottles and pulled the one she wanted and turned to the counter, only to face Ransom on the other end of it.

She pulls out a corkscrew and twisted it into the cork. “What do you want now?”  She asked, blankly. Ransom tapped his fingers on the counter and walked around. “I know what you’re doing,” He says. Y/N pops the cork out and drops it on the counter. 

“Oh, yeah?” She pours the wine into her glass. His body was now standing behind her.

“You think being with my family can stop me from taking you here right now,” Y/N felt the belt of his pants catch hers, his lower half on her behind. “Stop.” Y/N placed her hands flat on the counter, the warning tone tied in her voice. If he urged more, a bit more, she would slap him into the pits of hell.

His head lowers, “Stop is just tempting me, honey.” His hand reaches under and grabs her throat, turning her to face him, her glass falls to the ground with a shatter. The dark red liquid spreading across the wooden floor as Y/N gasped.

“Y/N? Ransom?” Linda called. Ransom kept his grip on her neck, Y/N’s breathing was getting shaky. “Ransom, let go,” She grabs his wrist. Ransom didn’t release because of her plead, he lets go from Linda’s voice getting closer.

“Y/N, darling, what’s-? Oh, my goodness,” Y/N whips around to face Linda while Ransom takes his steps over to the other side of the counter. Linda goes for the broken glass as Y/N kneels down. “Linda, I’m so sorry. I just bumped it and I-”

“It’s okay. We have lots of these glasses, I’m not complaining.”

“If it were the wine, it’d be a completely different story,” Y/N manages to joke, Linda laughs lightly as the two pick up the glass. “Let’s get this cleaned up,” Linda said. Y/N looks up to Ransom who stood behind his mother a few feet away, staring at Y/N.

Y/N could see the cold stare behind his eyes as it sends chills up her spine. He then walks out of the kitchen, leaving you and Linda to clean up the mess. Another bad family get together with the asshole.

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving was more special to anyone else. It was something to be thankful of. Fuck that. Y/N wasn’t thankful for that asshole. She wanted to be there, even Harlan’s 85th birthday was coming up. 

If Ransom picks up another damn fight, he’ll be stuffed with anything Y/N sees on that table. She’ll cut him up like a turkey, find a wishbone and wish for something better than him.

Complete asshole.

He forcefully had to have her in his arms on their way in. Hands laced in each other, she wanted to bite off his pinky finger, maybe shove that stupid metal ring down his throat as well.

Linda gently greeted the couple, saving Y/N from behind held hand in hand with Ransom as she gave her a hug. 

Just after the chatting, Y/N and Ransom sat next to each other at the table with the family. Meg sat next to Y/N with her mother, Joni. Jacob and his parents on the other side with Marta and Harlan. The table was long and Richard sat at the end of the table across from his wife, Linda.

“How ‘bout we say what we are thankful for?” Linda asked. Ransom and Richard both groan, “Honey, no-”

“Mom, that whole thankful thing is just old, can we just eat?” Ransom says, Y/N rolls her eyes. Linda sighs. “I’m sure you’re thankful for what you have, Ransom,” She says. Ransom looks at Y/N with a blank expression. “Yeah...” Y/N looks at him. “Very,” He says.

Y/N reached for the salad dressing across from her, reaching for the spoon, she felt her chair jerk and she felt her arm rub against Ransom’s sweater. He had scooted her chair closer to him. He was keeping his eyes on his plate as he ate away.  

Rolling her eyes, she reached for the dressing once again and managed to get it on her salad before digging in for the mash potatoes. Adding/Not adding the gravy, she dug in, maybe added some turkey to her plate. She poured herself some champagne as everyone ate and talked. Some laughter came out of the family, some gossip about a few people who weren’t in the family.

Y/N would kick Ransom’s leg once in a while when he placed it by hers very closely.

An hour had passed and only a few had finished their meals. Some even having a second plate. Y/N was still eating her due to the talking that prevented her from eating it. She felt Ransom’s hand reach up to her knee. She flinched away and faced him.

She saw his hand retract and she fixed her position in her seat, keeping her legs close. Another try happened a few minutes after the first. She felt his hand on her knee and before she could move it, his heel jabs into her shin. She hisses under her fork and glared at Ransom. 

“You okay, Y/N?” Linda asked, peeping over to look at her. Y/N nods, “The turkey... it’s a bit hot,” Y/N laughs softly. Ransom dragged his hand up. This asshole can’t get a fucking hint that she clearly doesn’t need this right now.

Fuck off.

She felt her dress lift up and she immediately jumps up from her seat causing the conversations to pause. She swallowed thickly, “Sorry.” And with that she scattered for the bathroom. Ransom tried to look confused and gently stood up, “Sorry. She’s usually not like this, I’ll be back, mom,” He stands up and walks out.

Once he left the room, his face darkens and darts for the bathroom she scattered off to.

Y/N stumbled on her heels and stopped to pull them off. Quickly, finding the bathroom and opens the door. Closing it, the door catches something and she looks down to see Ransom’s foot and he pushes the door open. Y/N backs up as he closes the door and locks it.

“Ransom-” She gasps when he grabs her wrist. “Let go of me, Hugh.”

“Don’t call me that!” He shouts. Y/N shoves him forward, pushing him against the wall, she throws her fist towards his face. Returning it, he clenches his fist and hits back. Y/N falls onto her knees, facing away from him as she gasps for air.

Her jaw felt awfully painful. She spits and blood splatters onto the ground. That’s the first time she’s seen blood caused by him. She stands up, turning to him. His eyes burning in flames, he noticed the blood on her lips. 

“You’re an asshole,” She chokes out, his shoulders drop slowly, “You always were.” Y/N pushes passed him and unlocks the door, allowing her to leave, he stood there in the bathroom. A minute later, he turns back. Y/N rushes down the stairs to see Linda, “Darling, what’s going on? Are you okay?” Y/N walks by her.

“I’m okay, Linda, I’m gonna head home.”

“But will you be there for my father’s birth-”

“Y/N! Get back here!” Ransom shouts, he storms down the stairs. Y/N drops her heels and runs, the dogs barking as she walked out the gates and Ransom stopped at the porch. “Y/N!” He shouts. Jaw tensed in anger, he growls, going to his car. “Ransom, tell me what the hell is going on!” Linda calls to him. He ignores her and jumps into his car. “Ransom!”

He drives off, going on the search for Y/N. 

Of course, he didn’t find her. Weird how she just left and just a minute after she had already ran miles. He gave up and drove back home. Y/N would return eventually, she had nowhere to go. Her family was on the other side of the state. The only money she could get was from Ransom. He made them share bank accounts. Which was stupid.

Fuck.

She had to go back. Maybe not go back to Ransom but to his family. No, no. That’ll make them ask questions why Ransom had hit her. She heard a honk and turned to see Marta’s car.

“Y/N? Where’s Ransom?” She asked, Y/N swallowed and sighed. “I need a place to stay.” Marta sat in the car to think, a few seconds later, she nods. “Okay, get in.”

Y/N opens the door and steps in.

Thanksgiving was not so good either.

.

A few months later

.

The family was all back together. This was the worse one yet. Harlan was reported that he committed suicide in his own room but Detective Blanc suspected it was a murder.

Y/N was put into this since she knew Harlan, she even was there at his birthday. If you were wondering, she completely ignored Ransom. Luckily, he kept his distance and then argued with his grandfather in their office.

“Miss L/N, can we speak to you for a moment?” Blanc asks, Y/N glanced up at the three men while Ransom loudly crunches the crackers he had in his hand. She stood up and walked over to the other room for the interrogation.

“So what is your full name?”

“My name is Y/N M/N L/N,” She replies. Blanc looks down at his hands, “What was your relationship with the family?”

Y/N sits up straighter and sighs, “I’m Ransom’s girlfriend.”

“Mhm. How long have you two been together?”

“We’ve work in the same business for about 3 years but in our partner relationship, about a year and a half,” Y/N says. Blanc nods, “Have you and Mr. Drysdale been into a lot of arguments?”

“Yes, I’m afraid we’ve had our disagreements,” Y/N said. Blanc rolls up his sleeves and leans forward. “Has Ransom ever laid a hand on you?”

Shit. What did the Thrombey’s say to him?

“We are just asking,” Blanc holds his hands up. She had to say something. If she said yes, it would go bad. “No,” She said. Blanc cranes his head, she shakes her head, “No, he would never do that.”

Blanc nods slowly, “How much did you know about Harlan? Have you spoken to him before?”

“When I first met him, Ransom never really introduced me to him so I did myself. He was such a sweetheart.” Blanc nods once again, “Where were you on the day of his death? The day of his 85th birthday.”

Y/N swallows, “I was currently in the kitchen, getting myself some wine while Ransom was having a conversation with Harlan. After that, he stormed out of the house, leaving me behind.”

“One way to treat a woman like that,” Blanc says. Y/N nods. “Yeah.” She looks over to the hall where the family was at. Spotting Ransom’s head peaking over the chair before he turns his head away.

Y/N sighs. “Well, thank you, Miss L/N for your honesty. I’m sure you’ll be okay,” Blanc shakes her hand. “Thank you, Detective.” Then she was on her way. Walking over to the room with the family, she began to walk around Ransom, till he catches her arm.

“Come sit here,” He bounces his leg and Y/N stared at him. He looks around. “All the other seats are taken.”

“Ransom, leave the woman alone,” Linda says. Ransom looks over to his mother and dramatically lets go of her wrist as Y/N stood further away from him as he eyed her up and down.

The day continued at the Thrombey’s home. The family had been asking about the inheritance, everything, the money, the house. It all comes down to this. Y/N shouldn’t be here.

She doubt that she wouldn’t get this inheritance. Sure she loved Harlan, made a few jokes and chatted with him more than she did with the others. But she wouldn’t get this money. She wasn’t in the family.

Harlan’s lawyer cuts open the file of what Harlan had place the name of the new owner of his inheritance.

The family all waited, holding hands or hoping in their mind what the cut they’ll get out of it. Each family member has some beef with Harlan. Walt being fired, Joni begging for money for Meg, Richard who knows what along with Ransom. Y/N didn’t know the Drysdale men’s deals with Harlan.

She could care less.

“Oh, wow... this is not too complex, this will be quick,” The lawyer says, causing Linda to make a ‘hmph’ sound. “I, Harlan Thrombey, being of sound, mind and body, ya-da-ya-da-ya-da...” Y/N was leaning on the door next to Marta. Ransom sat in the corner with his chin resting on his palm.

“I hereby, direct, that all my assets both liquid and otherwise, I leave the entirety to... Martha Cabrera and Y/N L/N.”

Holy shit. Marta and Y/N look at each other in disbelief. Y/N knew she wouldn’t be involved with Harlan’s inheritance because she barely knew him. Unless that one day.

“Is Ransom treating you well, Miss L/N?” Harlan asked, she sighs, “It’s getting there. We get into fights a lot and it worries me cause if he were to leave, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

Harlan gives her the gentle smile, “I’m sure if that happens, you’ll be in good shape.”

He really gave her half of what the inheritance was with Marta. Y/N didn’t even realize the family began to look at her and Marta in disbelief. “What?” Joni asks. Walt stands up, asking for the paper. Y/N looks at Marta and they both share the same glance.

How could Harlan do this to them? I mean, Marta was living in a small home and she barely had money for her family together and Y/N wasn’t like Marta but did Harlan feel guilty of having Ransom being with her?

Ransom chuckles at the family who all scattered around the lawyer for the truth, which Walt read, Y/N and Marta’s names were printed on that form.

Ransom then cackles as he stands up, walking over towards Y/N but she watched him pass her, laughing on his way out. “Alan, you can take this piece of paper and shove it right up your ass and get out!” Linda turns to the cops. Y/N couldn’t handle the screams.

Oh no. She deal with it any longer.

Linda loved Y/N in the family, now she just turned sour in front of her.

“We are the Thrombey’s, god dammit! This is still out house!” Linda pauses as the whole family stares back at Alan who flinched. “Oh... and I leave this house to Marta Cabrera.” Y/N’s eyes widen as Linda gasps. “You little bitch!” Linda growls, Y/N couldn’t handle that much clamoring from all of them and ran out of the house. 

Rushing to her car, she pulls out her keys and began to unlock her car. Someone pushes her into her car, “You give me that money you just earned from my grandfather and maybe I’ll give you a deal, give you anything you want.” His hands grip her waist, “Anything.” 

“Get off!” She elbows him and gets into her car, closing the door. “Y/N!” Ransom bangs on her window. “Open this door, now!” Y/N turns on her car and drives out of the driveway and down the road. 

Wiping the tears from her eyes, everything was too much. Harlan shouldn’t have done that. He pitied for her. Ransom was an asshole, yes, but Harlan didn’t have to give that money to her.

All she needed was a damn drink.

An hour had passed and so far no one had bothered to look for her. Soon if Marta would need her, she would call. Y/N regret thinking about that cause now her phone was buzzing. Opening her phone, she sees a text message.

Marta: Ransom’s been taken by the police.

Y/N lifted from the stool and immediately called. “Marta? What the hell happened?”

.

“What?” Y/N asked.

Blanc walks forward towards Y/N, “That’s right. Ransom had swapped the contents of Marta's medication vials so she would kill Harlan with an overdose of morphine, making her ineligible to claim his inheritance according to the aforementioned slayer rule,” Blanc says.

Y/N looks over to Ransom who just glared at the detective, “However, Marta, an experienced nurse, administered the correct medicine without reading the labels, and is thus innocent of Harlan's death. After the death was reported as suicide, Ransom anonymously hired me to discover Marta's guilt,” Blanc points.

“Fran later saw Ransom swapping the vials back on the day the funeral for Harlan happened, leaving you, Y/N alone that day. Fran sent him the blackmail note. Ransom soon realizing that Marta had given Harlan the correct medication, Ransom passed on the blackmail note to Marta, removing the address and time. He destroyed the evidence of Marta's innocence by burning down the medical examiner's office and burning Fran's copy of the toxicology report. He drugged Fran with morphine and emailed her location to Marta, planning to frame Marta for Fran's murder. But Marta saved Fran’s life, with a good heart. Not once did she play your game.”

Y/N glanced at Ransom once again, seeing his eyes land on hers in a cold stare. 

“Fran’s alive?” Ransom asked. “Oh, yes,” Blanc replies, “Fran who will confirm this very story...” Y/N turns to hear Marta’s phone buzz before she turns and answers the phone.

"Yes?"

Everyone draws their eyes to her. "Doctor, that's great news," Blanc fixes his tie out of his shirt. "We'll be there soon, thank you." Marta turns around, almost happy about something. "She's okay," She's referring to Fran, "She's ready to talk." Ransom seemed to get darker by the second.

"Trooper Wagner, if you could-uh keep Mr. Drysdale in custody while Lieutenant Elliot-" Y/N’s mind goes to Ransom who is completely grudged about one thing in the case. He seemed to feel very upset of something. As if he wanted to say one last thing.

"All right. Up, come on," The officer says, Ransom stands up from his seat and went to reach for his coat. His eyes go to Marta once again. "I'm gonna say this just to you. No cameras. No courtroom. Just you, cause you know it's true," He walks up to Marta, "We allowed you into our home. We let you watch our granddad, we welcomes you into our family. And you think you can steal it from us? You think I'm not gonna fight to protect my home? Our birthright? Our ancestral family home?" Blanc begins to laugh causing you all to look over.

"You bought this place in the '80s from a Pakistan real estate-"

"Oh! Shut up, Blanc. Shut! Up! With that  Kentucky-fried-foghorn-leghorn-drawl!" He drags out the drawl, "Yeah, I killed Fran, but I guess I didn't. So what do you have on me? Nothing-what? Attempted murder? I get arson for the building and a few other charges, with a good lawyer-Which I have! I'll be out in no time."

Marta again. "And then we'll see, just how much hell I can reek on your life, you vicious little. Bitch," He glares at Marta. “Eat shit, Ransom,” Y/N snaps. Ransom turns to her.

Standing just a feet away from Marta, the couple hear Marta’s stomach rumble, her throat clenches and Y/N know what happens next. Ransom drops his face into confusion and seconds later she vomits right in his face. Everyone jumps up, Ransom backs up as Y/N kneels down to help Marta but she holds her hand up.

"Oh!" Ransom groans, "What the shit?!"  He completely blind but tries to open his eyes. Y/N gasps, “Or that.”

"That means she's lying!" Trooper says. "Yeah. Yeah, we know..." The other one says. "That's right," Marta says, "Fran's dead."

Ransom looks over, mouth agape as Marta looks up at him. "And you just confessed her murder." Marta stands up as Y/N helps her.

Ransom laughs, "Well..." He wipes his nose, "In for a penny."

Y/N see Ransom reach for one of the knives, attempting to kill once again. Y/N was quick enough to shove Marta away. "No!" His hand grabs Y/N’s shoulder and her hand grabs his wrist. Ransom had them fall back as the blade inches closer to where her heart was. The group hears the knife sink down, Ransom's body on top of hers. Y/N’s eyes blown wide in fear and shock, her breath was held in for a horrified scream.

She could smell the stomach acid on his face but she was more worried about the blade but nothing felt like it seeped out. Unless the woman was too shocked and felt numb below the neck.

His brows furrow, not seeing her eyes shut close or her body slowly dropping the tension in every muscle. His breathing slowly became less heavier. Y/N finally took a breath and it confused him more. He looks down to where the blade should've been. He lifts the knife slowly as it makes a grinding sound when a chef sharpens a knife and he pokes it into his girlfriend’s chest, finally realizing it was a retractable stage knife.

He looks up to her terrified eyes before muttering, "Shit." The officers grab Ransom's shoulders and pulled him away from her. Y/N laid there on the ground in fear, hand holding onto the blade. A man who had beaten her, was proven guilty for he murder of Fran.

Marta comes down and gently pulls Y/N up. “It’s okay,” Marta says, she gently held her shoulders. Shaking under her touch, all she did was stare in front of her. Ransom calling out to Y/N bringing the tears down her cheeks now.

An asshole turned out to be a murderer.

Eat shit, Hugh Ransom Drysdale.

~~~~~~~~~

TAGS OF A FEW RANDOMS!: @jtargaryen18​ @joannaliceevans-fanficblog​ @chrisevans-imagines​ @chrisevans-source​

[here4theheartbreak]

Found My Place Chapter 1: Secret

AO3 Link Here!

Relationships: main YoonJin, side VMin (mentioned) Rating: Explicit

Genres: angst, smut Tags (for entire fic): idol AU (canonverse), transgender character, transgender Seokjin, FTM Seokjin, transphobia, pre-debut, misgendering, bisexual Yoongi, supportive Yoongi, discussion of gender confirming surgeries and HRT, virgin Seokjin, sex anxiety, first time, vaginal sex, anal sex, oral sex, generic and scientific terms for female bodied genitals, squirting, barebacking, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, angst with a happy ending

Summary: Jin has a secret that could ruin BTS before they even had a chance to debut. To make matters worse (and better) Yoongi is determined to pursue him to the ends of the earth. Is balancing his secrets and his life possible, or will it all come toppling down around him?

Chapter Word Count: ~3.2k

“Hey, do you wanna go grab dinner tonight? My treat.” Yoongi’s voice was soft. Jin glanced up from his phone. Yoongi was chewing his bottom lip, looking far more timid than usual.

“Something wrong?” Jin worried.

“No. Just. Hm.” Yoongi frowned a little, his brows furrowed. He settled onto the floor across from Jin and put his arms around his knees. The dorm was surprisingly quiet, a rarity with seven boys living in a confined space.

“You look like something’s up.”

“Do you like me, Jin-hyung?”

“What? Of course.” Jin smiled a little. “Why would you think I don’t?”

“Not as a friend. But more.”

Jin hesitated, tilting his head a little. The question sent painful daggers of anxiety straight to his stomach. “What’s bringing this on, Yoongi?”

Yoongi huffed, scrubbing his hands through his hair and ruffling it. Jin bit back the chuckle at its messy state, reaching out and flattening it. “Talk to me.”

“I don’t get it. You’re… So damn perfect,” Yoongi mumbled. “I’m not good talking about this shit.”

“You can tell me anything.” Jin touched his arm instinctively, offering a small smile.

“I want to kiss you,” Yoongi blurted, biting his lips immediately after and diverting his eyes. “I want… I mean I want to date you. We’ve shared a space for a while now and some days I feel like you feel the same way. But then other days you seem so weirdly standoffish and I get confused. And I know you don’t want to risk the group but… Jimin and Tae are dating and we’re all fine with that.”

Jin sighed softly. “Yoongi,” he said softly.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Give me that pitiful sounding voice. I misunderstood, didn’t I?” Yoongi curled in on himself a little more, his shoulders sagging in.

“I’m not pitying you. I do like you, Yoongi.”

“Then why when I ask…” Yoongi shrugged.

“Because things are more complicated for me than they are for Jimin or Tae. You don’t need that stress.”

“Why do you get to decide if I need it?” Yoongi asked, perking up a little. “I’m an adult too. If you were here I’d be the eldest of the group. I’m not some child for you to baby like the maknaes.”

“No, of course not.” Jin sighed, wanting more than anything to fix this. “But this isn’t something simple. It’s not like dating in secret or being gay in our industry. This is bigger.”

“What is it, hyung?”

“I can’t.”

Yoongi’s injured expression shifted to anger. “Why not? Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course I trust you.”

“Then why can’t you just tell me? What’s stopping you from dating me? From telling me the truth? You talk big about taking care of us but you keep secrets!” He snapped.

Jin winced. “Don’t yell, please.”

“I’m not.” Yoongi huffed and rose from the floor. “Forget about it.”

“Yoongi—”

“No. You can talk to me when you’re ready. Or don’t. Forget I said anything.” He stormed out, slamming the door loud enough that Jin winced.

Jin dropped his face into his hands, groaning softly. He really did like Yoongi. They’d been flirting on and off since he moved into the dorm with them. Yoongi was so different than him, but a perfect complement. He’d spent more time than he’d like to admit daydreaming about how Yoongi’s mouth would feel, how nice it would be to hold his hands non-platonically, to cuddle with him while they all watched a movie. He was mildly envious when Jimin and Taehyung admitted they wanted to begin dating – He’d have given anything to be able to ask Yoongi out. But it was too scary. And too dangerous. The secret that Jin held so close to himself was one that could wreck them before they even debuted.

***

Nearly two weeks passed without incident after their argument. Though Jin tried his best to refrain from flirting with Yoongi – and Yoongi seemed to be doing the same – there was no bad blood between the two. Between choreography practice, vocal lessons, and recordings, bad blood would have been difficult to hold anyway.

The group was just finishing up their choreography practice for the day when the door opened. Their manager entered, looking stern.

“Jin. CEO needs to see you.”

Jin felt his heart leap into his throat. He bowed regardless. “I’ll be right in, let me clean myself up.”

“He said now.” The manager motioned toward the door, making no move to leave before Jin followed. Jin could feel the eyes of every other member on him as he made his way to the door, struggling to regulate his breathing both from dancing and from fear.

The walk up to the CEO’s office had never felt longer. A thousand possibilities raced through Jin’s mind. Was he going to be let go? Told not to debut? Did something happen to a family member? Did someone outside the company find out… The final one was the worst thought. And it was the one that stuck with Jin even as he stood outside the door.

“Get in here, please,” Bang called.

Jin entered, bowing as low as he could manage remaining upright. “Good afternoon, sir.”

“Here.” Bang held out a small stack of paper. “I’ll cut to the chase. We lined up a surgeon for you.”

Jin’s heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t help the smile that tweaked the edges of his mouth up. “Really?”

“Mm. You’ll leave tomorrow night.”

“Tomorrow? That’s so soon.” Jin said, taking the papers from Bang.

“We need it done soon. He informed us you could take a few months to recover and we can’t afford that. We want the group to debut in under six months time and I won’t have it held up because of your surgery. You need it done immediately and you will start working out as soon as you’re able.”

“Of course.” Jin bowed. “What do I tell the others?”

“Family emergency. Break. Injury. Don’t care. You’ll need two weeks at least, maybe an additional two if you heal slow.”

Jin nodded. “Thank you. Family emergency sounds the safest.”

Bang waved his hand, signaling the end of the conversation. Jin bowed once more and hurried out, heading toward the changing room.

He peeked in, checking to make sure the other members weren’t in yet. Coast was clear. He headed to the locker he’d shoved his things into and put the papers into his backpack before stripping out of his shirt. Another nervous glance around. He hated the expectation to change in a group. It had made him nervous in school and now made him nervous for entirely different reasons.

The room seemed to still be empty, so Jin undid the tie on his pants and let them drop, sitting down to remove his sneakers and the sweats. He tugged off his binder, drawing in a deep breath as the pressure on his ribs relaxed. Two weeks off or not – he would be relieved to not have to try and exercise normally in one of those again. He glanced down in disdain at his chest. Even after fifteen odd years, he still found looking at himself without the binder disturbing and painful. That would be over soon. He smiled softly at the idea and reached for his clean binder, hidden in his backpack.

A soft gasp broke the silence in the changing room. Jin’s throat closed in a panic and he grabbed his shirt, slamming it over his chest as he looked around wildly. “Who’s there?” He called softly, pulse pounding in his ears. There was a soft rustle and Yoongi stepped from around the lockers, his eyes diverted. He laced his fingers together in front of him, looking sheepish.

“Just me.”

“Were you spying on me?” Jin spat, squeezing his arms even tighter over his chest.

“I wasn’t meaning to.”

“Get out!” Jin’s voice broke. “Don’t mention this to anyone!” He turned his back to Yoongi, struggling to tug the clean binder over his head. His heart was pounding and his nose burned as frightened tears threatened to fall. He was ruined. The group would find out, and then Bang would find out that they knew and they might never debut. It would wreck their lives and it’d be all his fault.

Jin blinked away the tears, fixing the binder. He turned back around, surprised to see Yoongi still there, now looking politely at the floor. “I told you to go away,” Jin croaked.

“Is this your secret, hyung?” Yoongi whispered, looking up carefully. Seeing that Jin was covered, he looked up fully.

Jin remained silent, chewing his inner cheek. He felt his entire face burning, his vision blurring with tears. “Please,” he finally whispered.

“Hyung—”

“Stop it,” Jin muttered, turning to face his locker. He sniffled. “You know I’m not.”

“Not what?” Yoongi stepped forward. “You’re Jin-hyung. You’re the eldest of Bangtan, aren’t you? Shoulders gangster and best cook in the dorm. The big brother.”

Jin broke, whimpering softly at the tears slid down his cheeks. “He won’t let us debut if anyone knows. Please… Forget you saw this.”

Yoongi reached out for Jin. He flinched away instinctively, and Yoongi winced. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Jin wiped his nose angrily and grabbed his clean shirt, yanking it over his head. He dug around for his jeans.

“What surgery was he talking about?”

Jin hesitated, glancing over at Yoongi. “You were spying.”

“I was worried,” Yoongi admitted. “You looked so scared leaving the room… I told the guys I was gonna see what was going on. I was going to call out to you after but you hurried in here so fast looking like you were scared. I wanted to see what was wrong. I see now—”

“That I’m a fucking girl?” Jin snapped.

Yoongi blinked. “I see that you aren’t shaped like a boy, sure… But that doesn’t necessarily mean you’re a girl, right? You’ve gone this whole time as our brother…”

“I’m trans.” Jin mumbled the word as soft as he could, shame coloring his features further. Yoongi nodded.

“I figured. The company knew? When they hired you?”

Jin nodded. “Turn around,” he said. When Yoongi tilted his head in confusion, Jin held up his clean boxers and jeans. “I’m sweaty and gross. Let me change. I won’t run away.”

“Right. I’ll change too.” Yoongi went to his own locker a few feet down, busying himself with digging out clothes. Jin changed out of his sweaty boxers and into his clean clothes as quickly as he could. He was surprised to see Yoongi changing as normal, not bothering to hide his body as he tugged on his clean items.

“Yeah, the company knew,” Jin finally mumbled. Yoongi fixed his jeans and sat down, pulling his sneakers back on.

“That’s what you meant when I asked you to date me. About it being bigger.”

Jin nodded. “Aren’t you glad you dodged that bullet?”

Yoongi looked over, confusion coloring his features. He tilted his head. “Dodged… What bullet?”

“Me. I mean, if you’d kept pursuing me. Finding out I’m…”

“What?” Yoongi rose, approaching Jin slowly. “You think I like you less because you’re trans?”

Jin shrugged. “Probably. You pursued me to date a guy.”

“I pursued you to date you, idiot. If you said this very second you wanted that date I’d make plans for dinner tonight. You really think I’m that shallow?”

“No, I just—” Jin shrugged. “I’m a freak.”

“You’re not a freak. I’m sorry you feel that way… I’m sure we haven’t done a great job of making you feel less like one either.”

“You guys aren’t at fault.”

“You should have felt comfortable telling us the truth. Like we’d have your back.”

Jin shook his head. “It’s in my contract. I can’t tell any of you. We could lose our shot of debut if I did.”

“That’s fucked. This is a vital part of you. Even if we had to hide it from the public, this is you, hyung! Why couldn’t you tell us?”

“Come on. A girl living with six boys? Even if the public didn’t find out, think of how it might seem.”

“But you’re not. You’re just another boy. Who cares if you don’t have a dick?” Yoongi paused. “I mean—You… Don’t?”

Jin shook his head, hanging it. “No. Still girl parts.”

“That was the surgery Bang was talking about?”

“Top surgery. To reform my chest. I can’t debut wearing a binder, fans would notice.”

“And the shirt lifts, yeah… I get it.” Yoongi sighed softly. “I don’t like that they told you to hide something so important from us… But I won’t tell anyone. Not until you’re ready to.” Yoongi reached out and grabbed Jin’s hand. “Then I’ll stand with you when you do.”

Jin closed his eyes, fighting back tears once more – This time ones of relief. “Yoongi—”

“Hey, hyung…” Yoongi smiled when Jin opened his eyes. “Don’t be scared. You’re a part of our group, okay? You’re our eldest. We’ll never let you fall.”

Jin drew in a shaky breath, his face twisting a little as he struggled not to sob. He went forward, hugging Yoongi tightly.

Yoongi gasped and Jin pulled back, embarrassed. He instinctively crossed his arms over his chest. “Sorry. I know that’s… Probably different now. Knowing… Thanks anyway.” Jin turned, shoving his clothes into his backpack. It was his turn to tense when Yoongi snaked his arms around his middle, hugging his back.

“It’s not different. I just wasn’t expecting it. Don’t be different around me just because I know, hyung. That would break my heart.”

Jin turned, still in the circle of Yoongi’s arms. He looked down at him. Yoongi smiled crookedly.

“I wasn’t lying before… I do like you. I just know someone like me has so much baggage… That’s so much to handle.”

“What is?” Yoongi shrugged, still not letting go. “I’ll keep your secret whether you were dating me or not. I might fuck up. I’ve never had a friend who’s trans, so I might make mistakes. And I want you to correct me if I say something insensitive. But it doesn’t change anything. And it’s not too much baggage. So, if that’s the only thing keeping this from becoming something more… Please don’t let it. I’ll be waiting for you if you want me.”

Jin nodded. “I can’t… Not… Not with so much coming up. Please just… Give me a while to think?”

“Always.” Yoongi squeezed his middle. “So, are you really leaving tomorrow?”

Jin nodded. “The travel plans and stuff are what they gave me today.”

“You’ll text me, right? Tell me when you’re going under and how it went?”

“I—”

“What’s the good in having a friend who knows if can’t share? And selfishly…” Yoongi shrugged, letting go of Jin. “I’m scared for you.”

“It’s a pretty simple procedure. And I don’t have a huge chest, so it should be pretty successful.”

“Will you change with us? After? The guys do notice… That you never share showers or change with us like everyone else.”

“Does it bother them? What do they think?” Jin worried.

“They don’t know. We figured maybe you had scars or something ugly, something you’re ashamed of.”

“Well… They’re not wrong, but… Not exactly scars.”

“Still.” Yoongi rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry you’ve gone through this alone this whole time, Jin-hyung. I wish I could have helped.”

“You guys are always helping. You make me feel good about myself.”

Yoongi sat on the bench. “So the company… They knew you were trans right away?”

“Not right away. When they scouted me I was already transitioning and passing. I confessed right away but they liked my look enough to give me a shot. I knew it would be harder and there were stipulations. No coming out, no telling a soul, even my parents are required to have non-disclosure agreements.”

“What about after debut? Won’t kids recognize you from school?”

“Not many. I’ve been wildly fortunate enough to have parents that really supported me, even transitioning. They moved my schools once I changed my name and started my hormones. So almost anyone that knows me knows me as a boy. I never dated and no one ever saw my body. My dead name was fully different. I’m sure if people dug hard enough they could find it, but I’m not worried.”

“You’ve never dated? You’re a virgin?”

Jin shrugged. “What? Did you think my arrogance was real?” He chuckled. “Yeah, I’ve… I mean I’m disgusting. And gay. Who would want to date me? No gay guy in his right mind wants a boy with a vagina.”

“That’s stupid,” Yoongi argued. “Anyone who cares more about that than you as a person isn’t worth your time. They should be dating you for you, not for a dick.”

Jin shrugged. “Either way. I got signed on as a boy, with the agreement to keep silent about what was under my clothes. The company has gone to great lengths to keep it a secret.”

“The surgery…”

“Out of country. I’m flying to Japan for it.”

“I wish I could come with you. You’ll be all alone…” “I’ll be okay.”

“Jin-hyung—” The door opened and the remaining five members poured in, laughing and being generally noisy. Jin smiled and shrugged at Yoongi.

“What the hell was that about?” Namjoon asked as soon as he spotted Jin.

“Nothing serious. I have to leave for a few weeks. Emergency.”

“When are you going?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

“But what about practice?” Jungkook worried, peeking over Namjoon’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry, I’ll still practice,” Jin teased, shoving Jungkook’s head playfully.

“Good, you need it,” Jimin teased.

Jin glared and threw his sweats at Jimin’s head across the room. “Hey! Be respectful. I feed you.”

Jimin cackled and threw them back at Jin, turning to change. Yoongi rose again, setting a hand on Jin’s lower back. Their gazes met and Jin smiled softly, nodding once. He turned back to Namjoon.

“It shouldn’t be too long. Two weeks, three at most. I’ll keep you updated, and I’m sure the company will too.”

“Okay, sounds good. It’s not too serious, is it?”

“No, not at all,” Jin said, smiling brightly. “Just something that needs to get done before we debut. No time after.”

“Sure. Of course. Let us know when you leave?”

“It’s early, like five. You’ll all still be sleeping, I’m sure.”

“Can I come with you to the airport?” Yoongi asked softly.

“I—” Jin hesitated. “I’d be okay with that, but you have to ask our manager.”

Yoongi nodded. “I’ll do that.”

“Let’s go get dinner, I’m starving,” Taehyung whined. Jimin leaned on him, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“You’re always starving.”

“True. I’m a growing boy!”

“You’re a fluffy boy,” Hoseok joked, poking him in the tummy. Taehyung batted at him, laughing. They gathered up their bags and headed out in a group, loud as the majority talked over one another on the way to their van. Jin hung back, watching his group with a soft smile. Even with his secret, staying quiet, this was his family. He wanted only the best for them. No matter what. Yoongi turned, meeting Jin’s gaze. He smiled broadly at Jin, falling back a little to walk with him.

“We’ve got your back, hyung.”

“Thank you,” Jin whispered. He knew there might be some hurt feelings, and some confusion if he were to come out to the group as a whole, and he was sure not everyone may be immediately okay with a trans member. But the sentiment was there, and that was what mattered to him.

[goliath-de-senfina-sango]

New People

Danny personally felt that he was well within his rights to be a bit weirded out by what was going on.  He was on his way to school, getting interrupted by some half-formed spider ghost with threads all over the place that he had to dodge out of the way of before he could even get close to shooting it, Tucker was freaking out and Sam was doing her best to shoot away the webs that Danny actually got caught in.  It took quite a bit of time to squish much of the bug and then get it in the thermos.  During this time, Danny got hit by its pincers and bitten, and the wound was exposed and dripping ectoplasm and some thick purple goop that he assumed was venom.   Things were the standard amount of bad.

The unusual thing was when a ghost with blue skin, pink eyes, and rippling hair that shifted colors between red, yellow and orange flew up to him and gently grabbed his arm.  And then he pulled out a cotton ball from his pocket and started dabbing Danny’s wound.  “Yikes, this is a nasty bite.  You’re Danny Phantom, right?  The bridge spirit?”

“Uh,” Danny looked down at his friends, who shrugged, weapons trained on the newcomer.  “Yeah, I’m the halfa Danny Phantom.”  The guy snorted and Danny scowled.  “What’s so funny?”

“Halfa sounds like something my son would’ve called it when he was 7.”  Once the cotton ball was soaked through it was put in a ziplock that vanished off to somewhere and a water bottle was poured over it instead, followed by a cloth.  “I’m Dr. Jason Pace.  Nice to meet you.”

Danny stared at the man while he cleaned his cut with wide eyes.  “There are ghost doctors?”  It felt like a dumb question, doctors died as much as anyone else, but with all the violent ghosts that came through it was weird to see someone who specialized in helping people.

“Death is hardly enough to keep a medic from helping people who need attention,” Jason said with a chuckle.  “When I woke up in the Infinite Realms I met this big burly werewolf in a hoodie who said he was here to take me where I’m supposed to go but he got to me late, and I thought ‘wow, psychopomps are real and they can be behind schedule.’”

“Did.  Did this werewolf happen to speak Esperanto?”

“Yeah, said his name is Wulf.  I told him that wasn’t very original and he agreed.  Then I told him that I needed to see my husband and he cut open a hole back to the living realm about two weeks after my death, and after a very passionate and emotional night, I headed back into work and just sorta.  Kept doing what I do.”  He hummed, holding up the cloth and setting it on fire before tossing it behind him, where Danny watched it turn to ashes before it made it five feet above the ground. He swiped the purple goop with a q-tip, and then a bunch of vials of glowing liquid appeared from thin air, spinning around him in a lazy orbit.  “Poisonous and venomous ghost animals are horrors and ecto entomologists can kiss my ass if they wanna preach about preserving species.”

“What… are you doing?”

“Ah that’s what it is- you’re going to feel numb in a couple of seconds, which is perfectly normal, but then your core will start to go … well let’s just say I’m glad I got to you in time.”  One of the vials stopped, the swab burned up like the cloth, and a syringe was put into play.  “This is an antivenom.  Please don’t squirm, or this will hurt more.”  Jason pressed the needle over where a vein should’ve been, and Danny hissed at the sharp prick of pain.  Then a lollipop of all things was presented to him.  “Hope you like blueberry.”

“So, what I’m gathering is that you just wanna treat people and you came up to me cause I got bit by a spider.  I don’t remember my folks ranting about a doctor ghost tricking the people at the hospital into dastardly plans so I’m gonna guess you’re not from around here.”

“Oh, this isn’t why I came to your town of course, but yeah this is the thing I’m gonna be doing.”  The syringe needle, once removed, was disintegrated like the rest, and a bandage was stuck on Danny’s arm before his suit could reform around it.  “You should be good… and don’t worry, I don’t mess with people’s heads.  I just help people.  And yes, I know how to help bridge spirits like yourself.”  He held out a business card and gave a two-fingered salute.  “Give that a little charge if you need me.  Bye!”

They watched Jason fade from sight and Danny stared at where he’d been with wide eyes, blinking rapidly.  “What the f-”

“We need to get to school!”  Sam shouted, drawing his attention down to his best friends.  Danny dove down and scooped them both up, turning invisible and flying toward the school.  “Oh, wow, ok.”

“So that was weird, right?”

“That was really fuckin weird, yeah,” Tucker said.  “I guess it makes sense that there’d be ghost doctors, hospitals are the evilest places.”

“I’m glad he’s here,” Sam said.  “Maybe he’ll be able to help you keep up with your habit of crashing into things.”

“I don’t have a habit thank you. My enemies have a habit of yeeting me into things.  There’s a difference.”

“You can turn intangible and go through things instead of slamming into them so.”  After that fun and lovely argument, Danny almost forgot the weirdness of Dr. Pace.

 That is until Lancer introduced the class to a very tall boy with brown hair, tan, freckled skin, and pink eyes.  Pink eyes that were glowing ever so softly. “Hello class, this is Kyle Pace. He’s an exchange student from Pittsburg.”

“Hey there,” Kyle said with a wave, smiling wide enough that everyone could see his canines were much longer and too pointy to be human.  “My last school was Three Rivers so uh I’m kinda not used to this kinda school, so if I’m weird I’m sorry about that.”

“Not a problem, Kyle.”  Lancer patted the large boy on the back.  “Your classmates will be doing their best to help you adjust, I’m sure.”  No one missed the look Lancer gave them, and no one even really considered caring.  Danny, Sam and Tucker were all staring at Kyle with varying degrees of subtly. “There’s a seat between Danny Fenton and Dash Baxter over there, Mr. Pace.  I’ll make sure you get a study guide to catch you up on where we are.”

Kyle nodded and plopped down in his seat, bookbag set down next to him, and the class moved on as though this were normal.  Well, Wes was fuming at the back of the class but no one paid him any attention.  He looked like he was paying attention, and after a while, Danny decided he should do the same, but the glow in Kyle’s eyes and the way Danny’s ghost sense was stuck in his throat, almost alerting him to a ghost but not, messed up his focus even worse than a regular old attack.

When Lunch rolled around, they had a chance to actually talk about it.  “So uh, when Dr. Pace said he had a kid,” Tucker said, “Do you think he meant like after he died?”

“My ghost sense says yes, which is gross to think about, but also kind of an existential crisis going on.”  Danny pushed his food around on his platter, staring at it and through it.  “How the fuck does that even work?”

“Well if Box Lunch,” Sam said with a shudder, “Can exist then maybe… what did he call it?  Bridge Spirits?  Maybe they can happen, ya know, naturally?”

“This validates everyone who wants to fuck Phantom,” Tucker said with a mouth full of meatloaf from home.  Danny punched his arm without looking and took satisfaction in his yelp.  “I’m just sayin.”

“Swallow first, and then - novel idea - don’t say it.”

“I saw him leave algebra with Dash and Dash’s hair isn’t looking so perfectly combed right now,” Tucker said anyway, earning a kick in the shins from Sam.

Danny groaned.  “Can we talk about something else?”

The universe did not agree with their subject of discussion moving away from Kyle, however, as he strode over to their table and plopped down next to Danny.  He had a lunch box filled with clearly homemade food that looked like it was cooked by a chef compared to the lunch meat on Danny’s platter.  He tossed an arm around Danny’s shoulders and gave them all a cheerful, “Hey there!  How’re you guys doing?  I saw your spider backpack and I know appearances aren’t everything but,” he pointed at Sam with a lazy grin, “do you like snakes?”

“Uh, yes?”  Sam looked between Danny and Kyle, likely assessing how dangerous he might be.  “Just not your kind of snake.”

“Pardon?”

“People who hang out with Dash Baxter tend to be just like him.”  Sam folded her arms and scowled, and Tucker rolled his eyes.   Kyle just frowned and looked over at the A lister table, making eye contact with Dash for a moment.

“Only impression I got outta Dash was attractive when he’s not talking, what kinda guy is he?” Sam was all too eager to share that and so was Tucker.  Danny watched as Kyle’s expression grew darker while staring at Dash, eyes beginning to glow brighter until he turned back to the table and covered Tucker’s mouth.  “Aight, an asshole.  Got it. Y’all know that’s all like, illegal, right?  Someone can record him doing this shit and either call the police or threaten it.”

“I mean, we could but then the other A listers would be out for us,” Danny said.

“I dunno what the A list is supposed to be, but I’m betting it’s something really stupid, and I have ta say: can we talk about snakes now?”  Kyle stuffed food in his mouth, and then the conversation about which snakes were cuter, cooler and more dangerous began.  Danny zoned out, stretching his senses to confirm the current of ecto energy under Kyle’s skin and wondered how to bring that up.

Before Danny could ask Kyle if he was possessed or just Like That, Dash Baxter’s voice caught his ear.  “Hey, Kyle, why’re you hangin out with these losers?  You should-” that was as far as Dash got before a pink bubble appeared around him and Kyle turned around to shove the bubble.  It rolled along the floor until it bumped into the A lister table and then popped, leaving Dash to fumble into his seat.  Then Kyle turned back to the table.

“I really want a pet snake, or like even some fish, but Dad doesn’t trust me and Pop thinks that I should learn to be responsible first before I go asking for a pet.  Like, aren’t parents supposed to use pets as a test of responsibility?”

“Some parents think that,” Sam said, her salad finished and her protein shake almost done, “but it’s unfair to put all that on a kid.”

“So,” Tucker said slowly, “everyone is staring at us and I’m kinda wondering if we’re gonna talk about you putting Dash in gay baby jail.”

“Is that weird?”  Kyle raised a brow, and Danny snorted.  “I just really didn’t wanna talk to him if he’s an asshole like y’all said and the bubble popped pretty quick.”  Kyle looked around at the dead silent cafeteria, and his skin began to glow.  “Why are people starin?”

“Because you just blew your cover, ghost!”  Valerie snarled across the cafeteria, and it exploded into chatter.  Kyle flinched at the noise and a bubble appeared around the table that blocked out the noise.

“What the fuck?  What’s going on?”

“Uh, dude, they don’t know about half ghosts.”

“But you’re a bridge spirit too!”

“They don’t know that!  I’ve got a secret identity to keep!”

“I- wow, ok spider-man.  Alright.”  Kyle took a breath and dropped his shield, floating up above the crowd of teens.  “HEY!”  The crowd when slowly quiet as Kyle waved a glowing hand around to get everyone’s attention.  “MY DUDES!  Thanks. So uh, yeah, I’m not sure what y’all think I am, but I can explain pretty easy.”

“Oh I’m certain you can, ghost, but we’re not interested in your lies!”

“Excuse you, I don’t lie anymore than you do.  Anyway, when a living human and a ghost love each other very much-”

“Are you saying your mom or dad banged a ghost?!”  Dale was always so eloquent, it had Danny wondering how he had such bad grades.

“Yeah,” Kyle shrugged, hands stuffed in his pockets.  “I don’t have a Mom though, Dad and Pop just figured out that ghostly physiology is malleable and they wanted a kid.  I’m done talking about my conception now, cause that’s gross, but like, this is a basic thing to understand.”  Kyle floated back down to his seat and crossed his legs.  “I swear I heard at least five girls around here want to start a family with Phantom, and I just gotta wonder: y’all did know that’s possible right?”

Silence eerie as a horror movie washed over the cafeteria.  People processed what they’d been told and some of their minds tripped over themselves trying to do so.  Kyle turned back to Sam and started complaining about pets while chatter erupted around them all, and Danny slammed his head against the table.

[fuckyeahcharmcaster]

Post 666 on this blog

How about commemorating it by analyzing a recent Twitter thread by none other than Geoffrey Thorne, writer of the much-maligned (and deservedly so) “Couples Retreat”?

Immediately a falsehood - McDuffie never ran Ben 10 and Thorne never pitched/wrote for it. 

It was Ben 10: Ultimate Alien (the rebranding of the series Ben 10: Alien Force) that McDuffie ran and Thorne pitched/wrote for. He should have used “franchise” rather than “show”.

REMEMBER THIS. It will be important later.

Hoo boy, here we go....

1. Given which episode it was, I wouldn’t call that “lucky”.

2. It seems like Thorne is definitely the guy behind the alleged spin-off Dwayne McDuffie proposed to the network. In regards to that I respect his passion, but not much else.

3. OK, some context is needed here: he is calling himself a “Charmcaster shipper” because this entire thread was sparked because one of his writer buddies who works on Supergirl was getting a lot of grief from Kara/Lena (”Supercorp”) shippers about how things have gone down on that show. But the problem is that this makes no sense - you cannot be a “shipper” of just one character. What he is describing is being a Charmcaster fanboy, NOT a “shipper”.

…..Where do I even START?

1. First off is the most glaring part: Thorne has completely re-arranged the order of events in his mind. The episode which making explicit that Charmcaster was evil and crazy, “The Enemy of My Frenemy”, aired BEFORE his episode, not after. Also, it wasn’t even separate by “a few weeks later”, it was literally just one week. I can’t believe he got this so wrong.

2. “There was much back patting when my Charmcaster episode came out”. HUH? I sure as Hell don’t remember much in the way of back-patting; most people were disgusted by it and also still upset about the previous episode. This is flat-out revisionist history on Thorne’s part.

3. I truly believe that Charmcaster being “straight-up evil and not a little bit crazy” was NOT meant to be the take-away from “The Enemy of My Frenemy”, which is why it ended in the way it did. But because what Charmcaster did in that episode was fucking genocide, that’s still exactly the take-away many viewers took away from it, and if even Thorne has come out and admitted that it was his take-away from it too, then you KNOW that episode fucked up.

4. “These were adults, mind you” - aaah, so in spite of him previously throwing shade at live-action folks throwing shade at animation because it was seen as “kids’ stuff”, suddenly he’s throwing shade at adult fans of an animated series for being emotionally affected by it. What a fucking hypocrite. I guess the millions upon millions of adult viewers who were outraged by what befell Daenerys Targaryen of Game of Throne are justified because that show is live-action, but there’s something wrong with adult viewers if they have a problem with this?

5. The biggest insight here: there really wasn’t any communication between the writers of UAF...and what’s more, Dwayne McDuffie didn’t bother tightening up the scripts enough to make them consistent, nor apparently did he tell any of the writers crucial information they probably ought to know when writing their episodes. Why was Charmcaster’s behavior so different in “Couples Retreat” compared to where “The Enemy of My Frenemy” left off? Because Thorne didn’t know about that episode. Why did Kevin suddenly act hypocritically scornful toward Charmcaster in “Couples Retreat” despite empathizing with her at the end of “The Enemy of My Frenemy”? Because Thorne didn’t know about that episode! Heck, it was clearly McDuffie who put in lines like “Charmcaster killed us” in the final script, since that little detail took Thorne completely by surprise when “The Enemy of My Frenemy” aired. I hate to speak ill of the dead, but Dwayne McDuffie SUCKED when it came to this franchise!

Thorne then talks of rude fan harassments he got afterward, and on this count I’m actually siding with him because that kind of crap is never acceptable. But then he gets to this, which he claims was an email response he gave to a certain belligerent fan before blocking them:

Oooooh, now he’s doing the number thing! Convenient!

1. Maybe not intentionally, but you certainly have been spreading several falsehoods. 

Also, you actually used the “Internet Tough Guy” routine? Really?

2. Solid point, but I do question just how many kids were “amused and excited” by the stuff that UA, especially in its second season, did. I especially question how and why a creepy, dysfunctional, possibly ephebophilic relationship is supposed to “amuse and excite” children.

3. HIGHLY presumptuous. Not every show has the same effort put into it, and even on shows were effort is clearly being put into one or more department, other departments may suffer. Game of Thrones is one such example: the writers there admitted to not giving a crap. No matter how stellar the acting, music, design, effects, etc. were the whole way through, the writing suffered more and more and it ultimately decimated the positive view of the series.

4. OK, I will personally agree with that statement. Others, however, may not.

Case in point, this excerpt from the South Park episode “Free Hat”:

George Lucas: These are my movies. I made them, and I have the right to do whatever I want with them. Stan:  You're wrong, Mr. Lucas. They're not your movies. They're ours. All of ours. We paid to go see them, and they're just as much a part of our lives as they are of yours. Kyle: When an artist creates, whatever they create belongs to society.

For the record, I believe there is truth to be found in both arguments. I think the ideal stance is somewhere in the middle, where creators are allowed to be held more accountable by the public for the things they put out but are also not controlled and told what to create by fans. Sadly, at the moment I have no idea how such a system that would enable this would work.

I post this last part because the replies it got from two Supercorp shippers are hilarious:

In one ear, out the other. I almost feel sorry for the guy. Almost.

But that does bring up a good final point: while the fictional nature of fictional characters should absolutely never be forgotten to the point where real people are being hurt (the Star Wars franchise has plenty of horror stories where that has happened) and it certainly sounds like there were some verifiable nuts who went after Thorne, there’s a difference between that kind of insane harassment and customers being able to use a platform to call out the creators when they feel like a huge disservice to characters who mean a lot to them has happened. Simply asking for some basic consistency and integrity to be maintained with fictional characters, or asking for creators to stop stringing fans of characters along with false promises like queerbaiting, is not unjustified. Again, I must bring up South Park here.

Kyle: I think... they are real. It's all real. Think about it. Haven't Luke Skywalker and Santa Claus affected your lives more than most real people in this room? I mean, whether Jesus is real or not, he... he's had a bigger impact on the world than any of us have. And the same could be said of Bugs Bunny and, a-and Superman and Harry Potter. They've changed my life, changed the way I act on the Earth. Doesn't that make them kind of "real”? They might be imaginary, but, but they're more important than most of us here. And they're all gonna be around long after we're dead. So in a way, those things are more realer than any of us.

Fictional characters matter to people in ways that are real. Fiction can change the world.

And I don’t believe asking that those characters be treated well is a crime of any sort.

[xsixxx]

Bad Influence - Chapter 11

Word Count - 5.4K

Authors Note - It's been a while! 👋🏻 About 4 months I think �� If there are any Bad Influence fans actually left out there, I'm so sorry & I love you. I had a really fuckin shitty last few months of 2019 & because of that, I kinda stopped doing the stuff I enjoy, writing this fanfic & using this blog being one of them.

Then I tried to come back before I was ready 😂 I wrote this chapter out about 2 months ago, but never bothered to post it bcos I didn't care enough about it. But I've recently returned to it, rewrote it & remembered why I fuckin love writing this fanfic. So I'm super excited to post this chapter & I hope you don't all hate it after how long it's been 😂 It's a bit rough bcos I'm getting back into it & I'm kinda rusty!

I love you guys for baring with me, I can't wait to get back into writing this fic for you 🖤

Warnings - Um, the f word is used in like every sentence oops, some implied smut when Nikki is remembering (choking trigger warning), I guess 'violence' but not really violence???, a whole lot of angst & a teeny bit of fluff at the end

Tags - @cruecifymesixx @freddiessmallnipples @queen-crue @scarecrowmax @lovesick-heart0 @littlesunnymoon @80sheart-strings @cranberrirolls @inthebackofmycarlaytheirbodies @versnatasha @zoenicolesetser @crazysaladchopshop @ggorehorror @lunamadhatter99 @justtryingtoovercome @chaoticvybe @you-know-im-a-dreamer @eightiesrockbaby @valentines-in-london @xrosegoldwolfx @fupatroopaa @lilypetite88 @this-blog-must-be-the-place @ashleecrue @lauravic @dark-princess99 @unknownoblivion @mgkobsessed @antheasnow @rockaholi @nassauartist @sparxx27

(there's one bit where Nikki is glaring across the bar at a character & this gif is spot on)

*Nikkis POV*

I drummed my fingers to the sound of a guitar as I watched Mick do his thing through the glass of the recording booth, his fingers working magic as he played the riff to Looks That Kill.

Fuck, that weird little guy could play.

“Nikki, this song is gonna fucking kill!” Tommy yelled enthusiastically, beating his drumsticks on the arm of the battered couch his was lounging on.

I smiled weakly back at him, my nerves keeping me from matching his excitement. “I hope so,” I mumbled. I look around the studio, basking in the enormity of where we were right now. Mötley was recording their second album & my nerves were shot. It had to be perfect. It had to do well.

“Stop stressing man, everyone’s gonna fucking freak over this album, I just know it!” He replied, smiling encouragingly, his usual Tommy level of positivity feeling sickeningly sweet, but still, I nodded at him gratefully. “So we hitting up The Whisky or what tonight boys?” He continued, addressing Vince as well as me, who was pouting on the couch next to him.

I chuckled without amusement, shaking my head. “Fuck no, not a chance I’m going in there yet.”

Tommy scowled at me. “Sixx, come on dude, you cant avoid the place forever. Plus, she might not even be working tonight!”

“I’m not risking it! I’m not gonna be able to enjoy the night if she’s there, judging my every fucking move, you know how she is.” I replied, rolling my eyes.

“So you’ve still not talked to her since..” Tommy trailed off, awkwardly. But Vince happily picked up from where he’d left off.

“Since you lead her on, fucked her & then blew her off?” He snapped arrogantly, instantly causing my jaw to tense.

“Don’t fucking start with me, Vinny. I’m not in the mood.”

“Oh, you mean you don't wanna hear about what a dick you were? What a surprise.” The sarcasm thick in his voice.

I slammed my hand down on the recording table & stood up sharply. “The fuck is your problem, man?” I snarled, his attitude & the mounting stress from the album mixing together to create a dangerous cocktail of anger & belligerence.

“My problem?” He questioned, standing up to meet my stare. “My problem is you Sixx. Beths a good fucking girl, what you did was real messed up, I should fucking floor you again for how you treated her. You owe the chick an apology at the goddamn least.” He spat, his anger in Beths defence honourable, but fucking irritating.

I chuckled arrogantly at his misplaced valiance. “Give it up the knight in shining armour act Vinny, I didn’t see you rushing to commit to her when she was getting your dick wet.”

I saw the danger flash in his eyes as he took a warning step towards me. “I didn’t fuck her & leave either.” He hissed, the venom in his voice palpable.

“Aw, did I upset your girlfriend?” I joked patronisingly, very aware that I was pushing it too far, but yet I couldn’t help myself, Vince acting all high & mighty was really starting to piss me off.

Vinces eyes narrowed sharply & I saw his hands ball into fists at his side. “Like I said, she’s a good girl. She didn’t deserve that.” He said through his teeth, the strain to keep calm evident in his voice.

I smirked at him amused, looking him up & down. “Whatcha gonna do Vince? Hit me again? Defend her honour? She’s a chick dude & a stuck up one at that. And she ditched your ass if you remember, you should be thanking me.” I laughed, shrugging.

“You know what Sixx, you’re an asshole. You know as well as I do that Beth isn’t another fucking groupie to this band. Nah, I didn’t wanna date her, but I like her- We all like her.” He corrected himself quickly.

“Vinny’s right man, I’m not taking sides, but Beths cool & I kinda do like having her around!” Tommy piped up, nodding.

“Fuck off T-Bone, you only want her around because you know as soon as she goes, so does your uptight piece of ass.” I shot at him, my frustration with the pair of them growing at a dangerous rate.

“Dude c’mon, there’s no need..”

I cut Tommy off viciously. “What the fuck has happened to this band?!” I shouted, shoving Vince out of my face. “Since when do we give this much of a fuck about chicks?! Look at where we are?!” I gestured around the recording studio. Mick had stopped playing & had casually lit a cigarette as he watched us bickering through the sound-proof glass. “This is what’s important. Now I’m going for a fucking smoke, this conversation is done & when I come back in we’re gonna record a fucking album, got it?!”

I barged out of the studio, flicked open my lighter & sparked up my cigarette, leaning back against the wall as I took in a shaky drag, my anger still surface level. I exhaled & closed my eyes, feeling the May sun warm my face & start to melt my mood away.

What was everyone’s fuckin’ obsession with this girl?!

Yeah she was cool, but she’s still a chick. And chicks = trouble.

I let my mind wander back to the look she gave me as she lay beneath me, my hand around her throat as she came undone & smirked to myself as I lifted the cigarette back to my smug lips. She was so worth the chase.

But Christ, I’m supposed to feel bad because I don’t want all that cutesy shit afterwards? No. Beth knew me, we’d had enough arguments about the kinda guy I am, she did this to herself. Not my fault that she thought she meant anything more to me than any one of those other girls. She was a fuck. A good fuck. But a fuck nonetheless.

I took another drag as the image of Beth sat in her bed with that stung look on her face snuck its way involuntarily into my mind. I could see those hurt tears & hear her bitter words ordering me to leave. I couldn’t help the pang of guilt in my stomach that accompanied the image.

She’s a fuckin’ chick, Nikki. Chicks = trouble, I recited to myself, rubbing my face roughly with my hands, almost in hope that I could scrub away the memory of her pained face. Get over it man, it’s done.

I sharply exhaled the last of my smoke before throwing it aggressively to the floor, somehow more frustrated than I was before.

Time to go record a fuckin’ album.

*Later*

*Beths POV*

I smoothed out the material of the tiny black dress I was wearing as I pouted my lips at my reflection in the mirror, appreciating the sight of myself all dolled up & ready to forget all about Nikki fucking Sixx.

I flashed an all too familiar looking smirk at myself before I spun around of my sky high heels & strutted out of the ladies bathroom & back over to Sophia who was waiting at the bar, two drinks in hand. She winked at me as I got closer, holding out one of the glasses for me to take.

“Girl, you look unreal! If we weren’t here trying to pull for you, I’d take you home right now,” she laughed, nudging me & winking again.

I let out a laugh as I took a swipe at her arm, “I am not here trying to pull!” I insisted, not even managing to fool myself. It’d been a little over a week since I went from the all time high of fucking Nikki to the crashing low of realising I meant nothing to him in a matter of minutes & I’d laid around feeling sorry for myself ever since. Well, not tonight. I was gonna find a guy & I was gonna remind myself what a goddamn catch I am.

“Oh Beth, there’s a reason you’re wearing that dress tonight & girl, it ain’t for the coverage,” she giggled as I took another playful swipe. “Hey, there’s no judgements here! I’d want a good lay after the emotional rollercoaster that has been Nikki Sixx!”

I raised my eyebrows at her as she quickly mimed locking her lips. “Sorry, sorry, we don’t mention that name, my bad.”

I shook my head. “It’s fine, I’m over it,” I lied. “But, if a cute guy wants to buy me a drink & maybe show me a good time, I’m not gonna say no.” I shrugged as we both burst into a fit of giggles, before I took a long sip of the very strong cocktail.

“Well that sounds like my queue.” Came a smooth voice from behind me. I turned to face the handsome stranger who was stood leaning casually against the bar, eyebrow cocked as his eyes scanned up & down my body, drinking in the sight of me. “You have excellent timing.” I blushed, appreciating his good looks right back. He was classically good looking, with blonde hair & a chiselled jaw, dressed smart in a shirt that hugged his toned physique & muscular arms just enough to spark a little intrigue as to what lay underneath. He was the exact opposite to Nikki in every physical way. Where Nikki was unruly & unkept, this guy was clean shaven & well groomed. He wore no leather or studs & his smile was friendly & genuine, not smug & he wasn’t dripping in arrogance.

“I’m Daniel.” He introduced himself, holding out a hand for me to shake. I looked into his electric blue eyes & blushed once again.

“Beth, it’s nice to meet you.” I replied as smoothly as I could.

“& I’m Sophia, but I guess no-one asked,” she piped up mockingly, winking at me. “Now Dan, unless you’ve got a cute, single friend for me, I’m gonna get outta your way & go for a dance.” Soph smirked, grabbing her drinking & flouncing off towards the dance floor, blowing us a kiss as she did.

We both let out a laugh. “She seems great,” Daniel said as I nodded, taking a sip of my drink. “She mentioned something about an emotion rollercoaster though? I hope I’m not stepping on anyone’s toes?” He queried.

I swallowed my drink before letting out a little laugh. “Not at all, there are no toes to be stepping on, don’t worry.”

“Well good, I’m glad. I’m surprised though, a gorgeous girl like you doesn’t have a man. You’re sure there’s no-one, because you seem way too good to be true!” He flirted, as I laughed

“Oh you’re smooth.” I teased, “but no, there’s absolutely no-one.” I answered, pushing any & all thoughts & feelings I might have towards Nikki Sixx out of my mind.

*Little later*

“Wow, so you’re a doctor?” I asked, impressed.

Daniel laughed, shaking his head. “I wish! I’m a med student currently, but that’s the hope one day.”

“What made you wanna get into medicine then?”

He paused for a second, his warm smile faltering for a brief moment & I sensed his hesitation to answer. “I, um, lost my dad when I was younger. Spent a lot of time in hospitals with him when he got sick. I remember watching all these doctors around me taking care of people, helping, curing.. They seemed like superheroes to me back then. After we lost my dad, I knew I wanted to help people, be one of those people that kids could look up to in the same way I did, yanno?”

I nodded, smiling at his compassion & genuineness.

“Sorry, bit heavy for a first meet, I know.” He laughed awkwardly.

“Not at all!” I replied, “I asked the question, you just answered it honestly, I appreciate that.”

As Daniel carried on talking about his studies, I couldn’t help but admire him. THIS was the kinda guy I was supposed to end up with. Smart, hot as hell, a brilliant career ahead of him, goals, aspirations.. He was exactly the kinda man I could take home to my father. Daniel was everything I should want & he was actually interested in me.

And yet, I still felt that unwanted & yet infuriatingly all-to-familiar flame ignite the second I heard his voice drift over from the bar.

“Jack & coke please darlin’.”

Nikkis voice hit me like a slap in the face & rush desire all at once & I immediately froze, my body unsure how to react to my contrasting emotions.

“Are you ok?” Daniel asked, reaching out & touching my arm, concern written across his face. I flinched as his touch, still lost somewhere in Nikkis voice, & snatched my arm away instinctively.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“ Started Daniel, his concern look now laced with panic.

“N-no, its fine honestly, its not you, its just..” I drifted off, briefly glancing behind me, trying to pin a location on the voice. My eyes caught sight of the four of them standing at the bar, waiting on their drinks. Nikki was dressed in his usual leather trousers, torn at the knees, & combat boots & a torn up shirt. His hair almost appeared messier than usual & he had a cigarette hanging from his lips. He couldn’t have been more different from the sharp, handsome man sat opposite me.

Daniel followed my line of sight & spotted the literal motley crew. Nikki was already hitting on the bar maid, distracting her whilst Tommy & Vince reached over & stole a bottle from behind the bar; all whilst Mick stood by, watching disapprovingly & swigging from his trademark flask.

“You know them?” Daniel asked hesitantly.

“Nope.” I replied bluntly, snapping back to reality & turning back to him. “I fancy getting out of here though, you wanna head back to mine, continue the drinking there?”

Daniel looked a little taken a back at the upfront offer as I stood up & downed the last of my drink, but I was fairly certain he wouldn’t refuse. I didn’t care either way at this point, I just needed out of here.

“Um sure-“

“Great, I’ll go find Sophia..”

“She’s over there, talking to those guys you apparently don’t know.” Dan stated, his tone now flat & a little judgemental as he raised an eyebrow at me.

“Look, Daniel, I don’t wanna get into it, but its better we just leave.” I said, hoping to avoid any questions, but his face was growing more unimpressed by the second. “I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you Dan, ok? But I can’t be here right now, so I gotta go. I’d, um, I’d like you to join me.. If you want to, of course. I mean, you don’t have to..” I mumbled, suddenly very aware & embarrassed by how he must be viewing me in that moment.

I saw his eyes narrow at my discomfort &, I’m assuming against his better judgement, he nodded & stood up to join me. “I’m not sure what’s happening here, but I’ve enjoyed getting to know you too & maybe you could fill me in on why you’re running away over that drink at yours?” He asked, a little suspicious but friendly. I nodded, giving him a small smile.

We started towards the exit when I felt a pair of hands snake around my waist & lift me excitedly into the air. I squealed in shock & suprise as Tommy span me around before placing me back on my feet.

“Beth! I cant believe you guys are here, what’re the chances? Soph said you came here to avoid us & we came here because Sixx wanted to avoid you! How fuckin’ funny is that?” He said, roaring with laughter, his hand resting on his stomach as he struggled to regain control on his amusement.

“Tommy.” I said sternly, shooting him a look that told him to shut the hell up. He quickly stood up straight, coughing a little to hide his laughter, before glancing over towards Daniel.

“Hey, who’s this? I’m Tommy dude, how ya doing?” He said, offering out his hand enthusiastically.

“Daniel, I’m good man, how’re you?” He answered, accepting the handshake hesitantly.

“I’m good? Hey, you wanna come meet the rest of the guys?” Tommy offered enthusiastically, without a second thought as to why that might not be such a good idea.

“Actually T-Bone, we’re just heading out.” I replied sharply, giving him another warning look.

“Ok, ok,” he laughed, holding his hands up in defeat as he got the hint. “It was nice to meet you man!” Tommy smiled at Dan, who nodded awkwardly back to him before T-Bone practically bounced back over to the bar.

“Don’t know them huh?” Daniel asked, his voice oozing with sarcasm suddenly, making me cringe.

“I’m sorry, they’re just.. A lot, ok?” I tried to explain, frustrated, mainly with myself.

“What’s the deal with this one?” Asked Dan, gesturing towards Nikki, who was leaning against the bar, sipping on his Jack & coke, his eyes fixed coldly on he two of us.

“That’s the, um.. Emotional rollercoaster.” I answered sheepishly, coughing to distract from my amounting discomfort, whilst simultaneously avoiding the eyes of both Nikki & Dan.

“Right.. Well, your rollercoaster is on his way over here.”

Fuck.

I glanced up to see Nikki, in all his arrogance, strolling towards us, his usual smirk fixed in place.

“I’m so sorry for whatever he says.” I quickly whispered to Dan, before Nikki came to a stop in front of us. I watched his eyes scan up & down Daniel, obvious sizing him up without an ounce of subtlety, before he turned his attention to me.

“Leaving without introducing us, Lizzy?” He drawled, the pretension thick in his voice.

“Yes Nikki, I am. So if you’d like to move-“

He cut me off, his focus back on Daniel. “I’m Nikki Sixx,” he stated, without the courtesy of a handshake.

“Daniel,” Dan replied, flatly, seemingly glad there was no extended hand to shake.

“And how do you know the lovely Lizzy here, Dan?” Nikki asked, his smirk never once faltering.

“We just met tonight, but we’re justing heading back to hers, if you don’t mind.” Dan replied simply, taking my hand.

“Oh but you see, I do mind.” Nikki stated bluntly, his smile as wide as it was dark as he side stepped back in front of Dan who had tried to manoeuvre round him. “Lizzy here is what we like to call a groupie & we,” he gestured towards the rest of the band behind him, “don’t particularly like sharing.”

“Oh fuck you, Sixx.” I scoffed, my face growing hot with a mix of anger & embarrassment. I turned to look at Dan, cringing at his raised eyebrow & gave him an apologetic look. “Don’t listen to him, he’s just being an asshole, I’m not a groupie.”

“Really?!” Nikki replied, dragging out the word dramatically as his shit eating grin somehow managed to grow wider. “Because I remember fucking you about a week ago & my boy Vince over there,” he pointed to at the very pissed off looking lead singer, “swears he remembers fucking you not long before that? Or are with both mistaken? I mean, there are a lot of you girls, you do all kinda look the same.. Feel the same too.” He chuckled darkly, shooting me a sly look. I glared at him with an expression so deadly that dared him to carry on. He rose to the challenge. “I tell you what though buddy,” Nikki continued, leaning into Dan so he was speaking into his ear, but just loud enough for me to catch what he was saying, “if you’re heading back to hers you’re in for a treat. She’s got the mouth of a motherfuckin’ Angel.” He finished, glancing over at me & winking. I was prepared to fly at him in a blind rage, fists balled, ready to wipe that smug smile off of his face permanently, when Dan spoke up, in a voice so peaceful & gentle, that it made his words seem somehow harsher.

“You are an arrogant piece of shit. I’ve been sat with this girl for the last hour & I spend a minute in your presence & it’s immediately clear to me that she’s way too good for you. But I’m sure she’ll realise that in her own time.” Daniel turned back to me, his expression stoney & irritated, but I could swear there was a hint of sympathy in his eyes. “If you ever get off of this rollercoaster doll, you know where you can find me.” He said, letting go of my hand as he stepped around the unmoving Nikki.

“Daniel, wait..” I caught him by the arm & quickly stepped in his path, stopping him.

“Beth, you seem like a great girl & I don’t think I’ve ever hit it off so quickly with someone like I have with you. But it’s obvious you have something with that guy & I’m not really interested in competing with him for your attention.”

I nodded slowly, knowing his words were fair. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok. And I mean it, if you decide to get off the rollercoaster.. I can probably offer you a slightly calmer ride. A carousel maybe?” Dan winked, laughing as I let out a light giggle. His blue eyes focused on mine, sending a surge of electricity through my body that momentarily extinguished the flame that Nikki somehow always managed to light. I lifted my lips & placed them softly on Daniels for the briefest second, before pulling away.

“Thank you.” I whispered.

His eyes lingered on my lips for a second, silently asking for more, before he came back to reality & gave me a genuine smile. “It was nice to meet you Beth. I do hope I get to see you again”, he nodded, before kissing my cheek & heading for the door.

I stood still for a second, gathering my thoughts & regaining my composure, before walking towards the bar where the Crüe & Sophia were stood, trying to act as if they hadn’t been watching.

I had barely made it over to them before Nikki was straight in there with his sly comments, immediately trying to get under my skin.

“Aw was Prince Charming not happy to hear the Princess was actually a band slu-“

Nikki didn’t get the chance to finish his insult. He was silenced by the remainder of my drink soaking him as I threw it at him furiously, dousing his arrogance with my cocktail.

“That is for thinking you have any right to chase away a good guy just because your petty, selfish ass is jealous.” I spat. “And this..”

The loud crack of my hand slapping him sharply across the face echoed around the bar, followed by the whooping of Vince & Tommy. I even caught a glimpse of Mick smirking.

Nikki recoiled, his hand flying to his crimson cheek, shock & fury on his face. But his rage couldn’t match mine. I grabbed his face roughly, my hand cupping his chin & cheeks, forcing him to meet my wrathful glare.

“That is for fucking me & leaving me like I was one of your whores.” I seethed, my voice quiet & dangerous.

Nikkis face went from white hot anger to an ice cold stare in an instant as he straightened up, pushing me off of him as he did. He took a step towards me, but I didn’t move an inch. I was way too fucking angry to back down.

“Listen Princess, you’re fucking lucky I’m not a bad guy-“ he began, but my sharp laugh rang loud, cutting him off.

“Not a bad guy?! Nikki, are you really that delusional?! You’ve done nothing but purposely fuck with my head from the day I met you. You’ve insulted me, dragged me down to your level, used me, screwed my chances with two different guys & for what?!” I screamed, tears threatening to form. “No, you know what?! You're fucking lucky Sixx, I’m not gonna do this here. I’m done. I don’t want anything to do with you.”

I span around, ready to make my dramatic exit, when I came face to face with a very happy looking band manager, Doc. He clearly couldn’t care less about our drama as he marched over to us like nothing was happening.

“Bartender, a round of shots for these boys & their girlfriends. We need to celebrate;”

“The fuck are you talking about Doc?” Snapped Nikki, his eyes still fixed on me.

“Boys, you’re in!" He announced, unable to hide his obvious pleased-with-himself smirk "I've just been told that Mötley Crüe have been offered a last minute slot to play alongside the likes of Judas Priest, Scorpions, Van Halen & The Prince of fucking Darkness, Ozzy fucking Osbourne at the US Festival on Memorial Day weekend!” Doc exclaimed, laughing as the band began shouting & whooping, looking disbelieved & excited as hell. Choruses of “are you serious?!” & “you’re fucking kidding!” we’re passed between them as Doc reassured them that they were on their way up.

In that moment, watching these guys I’d grown to love over the last couple of years get the break they worked so hard for, I couldn’t be mad. I watched as Tommy jumped on Nikkis back, Vince hugged Doc & Mick silently smirked to himself. They deserved this.

Doc handed me & Sophia a shot as we congratulated them all, although I couldn’t quite bring myself to share my enthusiasm with Nikki. But he was too busy to notice as he held up his shot glass in a toast.

“To us! We’ve got an old man, a kid drummer, a cover band singer & a fucking run away. Win it all or loose it all, we’re Mötley fucking Crue!” He yelled, his excitement & energy almost infectious, as much as I wanted to hate him.

“To you guys!” Sophia cheered, laughing as we all downed our shots.

“Let’s get another round in, we’re celebrating! And pour one for yourself gorgeous.” Vince called to the barmaid who was more than happy to oblige, blushing as he winked at her, turning on the Vince Neil charm that would assure she’d be going home with him at the end of the night. I remember that well, I chuckled to myself.

The atmosphere of the night had changed so dramatically from what it was 10 minutes previously, everyone’s anger & awkwardness forgotten in the wake of such elating news. I looked around all the happy faces; Vince flirting with the bar maid, Tommy all over a giggling Sophia, Mick & Doc eagerly discussing set lists & felt an overwhelming sense of misplacement. After all that had happened, I just couldn’t bring myself to match their enthusiasm, not tonight.

I noticed Nikki's gaze focused on me, his face betraying his now obvious guilt as he watched me stand alone, uncomfortable & upset. His sudden success had clearly snapped him out of his petty, jealous mood.

Uninterested in an apology from him, I let my eyes continue to scan the room, looking anywhere but at him, when Sophia glanced over, catching my eye & gestured for me to join in. I forced my best smile as I walked over to her & Tommy.

“Take another shot Reynolds!” Tommy shouted, pushing a shot glass of mysterious liquid at me. I laughed politely as I shook my head.

“Thanks, but no thanks T-Bone. I think I’m actually gonna shoot yanno, I’m getting pretty tired.” I lied.

“Beth, don’t leave, please?” Tommy pleaded, his face suddenly serious, moving away from Soph & towards me.

“T-Bone, it’s not a big deal honestly, you guys enjoy your celebrations!”

“Just talk to him. I know the fucker doesn’t deserve it, Beth, I know. But he cares for you more than you think, I promise. We all do.” He added, placing his hand in mine & giving it a squeeze as he flashed me a goofy half smile.

I gave him a half smile & squeezed his hand back. “I know Tommy & I love you guys, I really do. But I can’t be around him, its.. it’s too hard.” I muttered back, so quietly it was almost inaudible above the music playing in the bar. But Tommy caught it.

“You care for him too, don’t you?” He asked, just as quietly.

I nodded, my eyes filling with tears. “God knows why T-Bone, he’s made it clear he doesn’t care about me. I’m just another girl he fucked.” I sniffed, furiously wiping away my tears before anyone noticed.

“Beth, Sixx is a dick. I’ve watched him fuck over chick after chick who was convinced they’d tame him & he tosses them without a second thought. But not you. I don’t know what the fuck goes on in Nikkis head, but that fucker cares about you. So please, don’t ditch us all just because you think he doesn’t.”

“I’m sorry Tom, I know he’s your friend & you wanna see the best in him, but you’re wrong. Nikki Sixx only cares about himself.” I replied, straightening my posture & regaining my composure. I pulled Tommy into a tight hug & congratulated him again. “I’ll see ya around T-Bone, I’m sure.” I winked, gesturing towards Sophia.

He laughed, “I’ll look after her.”

I blew him a kiss before heading towards the door, not wanting to disturb anyone else’s night with my drama.

“Lizzy, wait up.” I heard Nikkis voice call. I closed my eyes briefly, choosing whether to stop or keep going. I chose the latter & walked swiftly out of the door, pretending I hadn’t heard.

But my ignorance was in vain & he was right behind me, following suit out of the bar.

“Nikki please, just go back-“

My sentence was cut short by his lips crashing onto mine. I froze, feeling anger, lust & passion sweep through my body as my brain tried to compute the correct emotional response. I pushed him away sharply, deciding anger overwhelmed any feelings I had towards him.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?! Are you asking for another slap?!”

“Lizzy, I’m sorry ok?” He blurted out, clearly uncomfortable with apologies.

“You’re sorry?! Oh, well that makes everything ok then.” I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes at him.

“I know ok, I fucked up. I’ve been a dick to you & I’m sorry. I just, I don’t know how to do this shit.” He mumbled, running his hands through his tangled hair.

“Do what, Sixx?” My frustration mounting with his half-assed apology.

“I don’t fucking do.. This.” He gestured between the two of us, struggling to find his words.

I sighed with exasperation. “What is this Nikki? Is this an apology or what, because honestly there isn’t much you can say right now, just let me go home.” I finished, turning to leave, but he caught hold of my hand, pulling me into him. He placed his hand gently under my chin, bringing my face up to his.

“I don’t do this, ok? I don’t do feelings or relationships, fuck, I won’t even sleep with a girl twice.” He laughed, before clearing his throat when he saw my unamused expression. “Lizzy, I am sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I got pissed as hell when I saw you with that fucking pretty boy, I snapped.. I don't know, I guess I was kinda jealous.. I do care about you.”

I scoffed. “You’ve got a funny way of showing it.”

“I do, Lizzy. But listening to you telling me why I’m a bad guy, all the shit I’ve done to you, you’re right. And I’m sorry. Just, please don’t leave. Come celebrate with us, we all want you here. I want you here.. You’ve been with us from the start, it wouldn’t feel the same without you. You mean a lot to me... Um, to us. You mean a lot to us.” He corrected.

I looked into his green eyes & saw the sincerity, noted the lack of arrogance in his voice & the absence of his usual smug smile. I so badly wanted to give into him. I wanted to taste his kiss again, melt against him like I always do. I wanted to take his hand & go back inside, enjoy the night with the band, drink, have fun & fall into bed with him when the night was over.

But I’d fell for Nikkis sweeter side before, I knew how the night would end. He’d leave afterwards & I’d be hurt all over again. And I wasn’t gonna let that happen.

“No Nikki, I’m sorry.”

[spikeymarshmallows]

alright bitches, saddle up. it’s headcanon-ing time.

inspired by this post.

Specifically this section:

The standard urban fantasy female protagonist dating a werewolf who is not an alpha. Bonus points for it being a cute beta werewolfess who thinks her girlfriend’s perpetual posturing as the ‘baddest bitch on the block’™ is the most adorable thing ever. Extra bonus points for fuzzy baby werewolves and adopted babies. (Because actual wolf packs? Exist to raise children. They’re family units, focused around rearing cubs.)

#werewolves #queer wolves #werewolves as the foster parents of the supernatural world #if there’s a kid so much as sniffling in their general vicinity they’re going to get adopted #the fae discovered that they could straight-up hand off changlings to werewolf packs #no deception needed #magic using children of mundane parents who can’t handle it? #every pack has a dozen of them #fic ideas

okay this is one of the cutest reblogs I’ve gotten. imagine it werewolves just going YES FAMILY GOOD and adopting everyone and making sure they get attention and food and understand that it’s fine to be who you are and that you’re not alone, you’re pack now

Okay, I tried to do the Tumblr aesthetic thing, but it turns out, it takes more effort for me *not* to use capital letters, so fuck that.

Okay, but just imagine. The kids are all 13. Five has not yet fucked off into ye olde apocalypse. Reginald has caught Klaus wearing eyeliner and dancing around in one of Vanya’s skirts, because Allison rumoured him into doing 300 pushups last time he was caught in hers, and Vanya has no spine. So Reggie’s just shoved Klaus in the mausoleum, and as soon as he’s been let go, a sobbing Klaus sneaks out of the house.

He’s hiding in the alley outside the house, one of many probably, and is crouched on the ground, sniffing wetly and wiping furiously at his eyes. The eyeliner is long since smudged, but it’s stuck around because, hey, it’s not waterproof but it’s that shitty 90′s eyeliner that takes an insane amount of effort to get off. And he’s rolling a joint, but his hands are shaking.

And this queer werewolf couple happen to be walking by, and super-hearing etc etc, hear a kid crying.

And one of them is all “CHILD. CRYING. MUST PROTECT”.

“Maggie, ffs, you can’t just walk up to strange children and adopt them” “WATCH ME”.

And so this lovely werewolf couple, who are young, and haven’t been able to have kids of their own yet (but have a lovely pack back home) go and talk to a crying Klaus.

And Reginald has taught the kids loads of useless shit, but teaching them stranger danger? Nahhhh son. Sure, Klaus could put up a good fight, but why would he want to fight this nice couple?

And so, through tears, Klaus talks to them, and Maggie is like, looking up at her partner, Sofia, with these big earnest eyes. Because Sofia was like this, trapped with a shitty family who wouldn’t accept her for who she was. And Maggie is like “CAN WE ADOPT HIM” and Sofia is “...you can’t just take a kid off the street and adopt him” except Maggie basically did it to Sofia when they were both seventeen, so it’s not an effective argument.

And Klaus is crouched there, still in his damn skirt, his knees all bruised and filthy from being in the mausoleum, and his hands are grimy and a little bloody, and he can’t fucking roll this joint, and Sofia is just “he’s thirteen and smoking weed? THIS CAN NOT GO ON. MUST. PROTECT.”

And god, it does not at all take much convincing to come home with them except--

“I can’t leave without my favourite brothers 🥺“

Cue Klaus racing inside, trying to grab Ben and Diego to drag them off to his new family. And honestly, they’re not that hard to convince to leave either although they wonder if Klaus has lost the fucking plot, because he’s rambling and raving and not entirely making sense and he’s filthy and--well, he’s Klaus.

But Luther is very “No, we cannot split the team up >:(” and Klaus is just “Okay. Come with us, dipshit.”

And where Luther goes, Allison follows. That said, Allison had been listening from her room and is intrigued at the idea of an adventure.

And Five, who thinks they’re all a bunch of idiots, is just... “Ugh, I’m coming with because it’s me who will need to get you out of trouble when you inevitably land in it”.

And Five (and Ben) don’t like to leave Vanya out, so as soon as she’s back from her violin practice, they sneak her out too.

And that’s the story of how this lovely queer werewolf couple went on an afternoon stroll and adopted seven kids.

Because, hear me out if you’ve made it this far....

It’s initially a bit weird. The kids are used to competing for love and attention, for any skeric of a compliment. There are tiffs, really fucking fast. And Mom’s are like “Kids, this isn’t good pack behaviour”.

Luther’s ears pricking up because... “...does... does this mean we get to do Pack Bonding????”

Yes it does.

There’s no competitions here! Not any more than friendly ones, anyway. No competing for attention or love. It’s just lavished upon them because there’s a pack! Lots of parents!

Imagine one of pack members taking Luther outside to study the night sky, and teaching him all about moon cycles, and different stars and constellations. Some of these werewolves are as strong as him too, and he can spar without having to hold back!

Imagine some pack members saying “hey, Diego, let’s see who’s the fastest!” and Diego just *heavy breathing*. And of course, they let him win, but not in an obvious way. Just slowly building this kids confidence up, piece by piece. They don’t care about his stutter, and they show him love in loads of cuddles, and he learns to howl at the moon.

Allison is just... sisters. She’s always liked being the centre of attention, and so it’s an adjustment to be here with so many others. But she still gets attention. She’s shown that she doesn’t need to hold the limelight to be loved and valued and cared about. She doesn’t need to Rumour anyone because her opinions are actually allowed to be listened to. Why Rumour someone when she can just state why she wants to do something, and it’ll probably be allowed.

And they got to Klaus before his addiction spiralled out of control. They take him through graveyards during the day, not to make him control his powers, but to show him that he's never alone when facing his demons. Maybe they take him to a family crypt or something and introduce him to great grandmas and shit like that. It's hard to be scared of the dark and of demons when your parents run through the forests and howl at the moon and you have friendly ghosts on your team to talk to you when things get hard.

Some pack members are super smart, and for the first time, Five isn’t the smartest in the room. He weirdly relishes it. His thoughts and opinions and desires are listened to as well, and whenever he’s told no, he actually listens to why that is. Instead of treating him like a little asshole, they encourage his love of learning.

And then there’s Ben... Werewolf Parents: Now, Ben, we all have difficult things inside of us to control. Let's work on that and, also, on loving that beast inside us. 😌 Ben learns to control the Horror and it becomes like a giant swing and like, all the pack kids wanna be swung around by the Horror.... Cue pictures of the Horror with little ribbons wrapped around its tips or some bizarre and soft shit like that.

And finally, Vanya. Vanya, who is still Ordinary, at least at first. The Pack doesn’t mind her being on her meds, and don’t mind that she’s quiet and ordinary. There are other humans in the pack too! And they all love listening to Vanya play... Even when she’s just practicing, she usually ends up with a few people sitting there, delightedly listening in. And as time goes on, she thinks “hmm, maybe I don’t need these things for my nerves anymore... Maybe... Maybe I will be okay without them?” and Mom’s are like “well, there’s no problem if you need to go back on them, but if you want to try, we support you : )” And RUH ROH, there are powers??? HOLY SHIT. She’s mad as fuck, but instead of it being disastrous, she has loads of love and support. Like Ben, like al of the siblings, she has people there to help her learn how to manage her powers, and her emotions.

The kids are just totally loved upon and cherished and have someone there for them all the time.

And let’s not even get started on pack cuddles. actually, no, let’s.

Reggie used to be a real cunt about the kids and their need for contact. I mean, sure, they still tried to sneak into each others rooms for platonic cuddles all the time, but they sure as hell paid for it. And now?? Now, they can cuddle as much as they fucking want. Oh, Ben, Diego and Klaus wanna snuggle together every night? No worries, kids! We’re just gonna get you all a bigger bed and we can turn one of the bedrooms into a study or something. And slowly, there are just... entire pack cuddles. Allison has a bad day, and Klaus tugs her into the pile. And Luther sees and... Snuggles up behind her. Vanya, who is getting better at not being left out, who is more confident in herself, doesn’t fight when Allison brings her in. And Five? Five pretends he’s only there for Vanya, but they all know it’s a lie.

But they don’t call him on it.

Anyway. I’m just very here for a nice pack of werewolves adopting my babies, and them growing up happy and well-adjusted, and loved, and-----*record screeches to a halt*

DIEGO LOVES HIS NEW MOMS. BUT HE MISSES GRACE SO MUCH T.T

....So the Umbrella Academy band together for one final mission: to Mom-nap Grace.

It’s all very dramatic. I haven’t seen Spy Kids since I was, what, 13, but I’m gonna pretend it’s like that. They Mom-nap Mom, and she goes happily because she’s missed her babies and she gets to join the snuggle pile too. She loves helping out her new family too! And she learns new recipes and shares some of her own! Mom is happy too because LET GRACE BE HAPPY.

Anyway, they grow up happy, and well-adjusted.

And still as incestuous as fuck.

Like, that still happens in every universe.

And the wolf pack are like *chinhands* because like. Whatever.

/END

[saintheartwing]

So Why Should A Hero Be Moral?

The idea of a guy with super powers doing incredible things wasn’t invented by either Japanese anime, western comics, or some obscure 1920′s writer somewhere. No, no, it goes as far back, at least in terms of written record, to Plato’s work known as “Republic”. We find it beginning with the description of an “ancestor of Gyges”. And if you know that name...you know about Gyges’s Ring.

See, this ring makes you invisible if you slip it on. Using the ring, this man got into the king’s palace, seduced the king’s wife, killed the king with her help, and became the new ruler. This story is told to pose a question to us. “Do people actually love justice and goodness for its own sake, or do they do it because they realize if they’re unjust, there’ll be consequences for their actions?

Glaucon, the narrator, takes an “Immoralist” viewpoint. If ANY such person had that kinda magic ring, they’d behave in the same way. NOBODY would “refrain his hands from the possession of others and not touch them”. Well, this is quite the question. Would you do that? Should you do that? But it goes further. Glaucon also claims that if there were any people with special powers so committed to doing good that they’d still seek to be just, the rest of us would despise them and regard them with contempt. Why? Because if anyone who had a license to do whatever the hell they thought refused to do wrong or lay their hands on others things, the reaction would be “What the hell are you, stupid? You moron! You can do f--king anything and you’re not doing it?”

So Glaucon challenges Socrates in “Republic”. If you want to make a really convincing argument for why people should seek to BE good and not just APPEAR good, well, then show that the life of a person who is truly just but thought by others not to be so is superior to the life of someone who is ACTUALLY unjust, but has a good reputation. We have to compare the lives of people who are genuinely good vs the people who pretend to be so, but are thought of, outwardly, as good.

This is quite the challenge. So then...why SHOULD someone with superpowers or powers of any kind be good at all? Why should people, in general, be good? Not just appear good...BE good? Well, Plato presented a person, in Republic, as being someone who was thought of as unjust and suffered accordingly despite being good...and that person maaaaay have come from personal experience. After all, his beloved teacher was Socrates, a wise, brilliant and formerly well-known and cherished philosopher...who people turned on thanks to trumped up legal charges by claiming he was “corrupting the youth” and other BS claims. So a real, genuine, actual good person DID get thought of as being a stupid ignorant fool and let’s all boo and hiss him and then execute him via the state.

But we’re not in Ancient Greece, so let’s try to call on someone a LITTLE more modern. Kierkegaard the German Philosopher! He said that humans are called upon in life to, well, live a live of universal love. We are called by God to love our neighbors as ourselves, and nobody really falls outside that category of “neighbor”. It’s kinda like the idea of “We’re all brothers in Christ”.

OBVIOUSLY this isn’t even close to being an easy task, Kierkegaard says we need to overcome natural selfishness, and the inertia that pushes us toward the satisfaction of our own desires when those desires conflict with the good of others. This is the “first danger”. The first obstacle to goodness, justice and love. If you CAN overcome this, you can then face the external issue...a “double danger”. What is that?

Kierkegaard says that the big struggle involves first the person’s inner being struggling with themselves, then with the world outside. Because we don’t live in a world where it’s easy to love one another and to be just, after all.

So a moral person has to engage in a certain amount of self-denial. Only THEN can you overcome the firm pull of selfish desire. But  then we have to contend with the world because the world isn’t gonna be so nice to us. We may admire sainthood from a distance but facing real, actual virtue can be...disturbing to folks. Think of, say, figures like Gandhi or Dr. King or Harvey Milk or Nelson Mandela. Oh sure, people may ADORE them now but at the time they were alive, folks severely hated them in a lot of places. They were controversial figures who incurred a lot of criticism and in many cases for many beloved figures today...they got murdered for their efforts.

And the temptation of double danger and the like isn’t necessarily the temptation to be a supervillain. Take Spider-Man. Peter’s on his way to see MJ perform. He promised he’d see her. But...uh oh. Some guys are robbing an unfortunate in an alleyway. And...well, he’s Spider-Man! He’s got to help them! So he ends up missing her performance because he had to save people. This wasn’t a temptation to use his powers for financial gain or anything. It was a choice between using your powers for good or...well, just having a normal, private kinda life. He’s tempted to be ORDINARY, not evil. A lot of us kind of experience this. Most of us aren’t tempted to be villains. We wanna be free to pursue our own individual happiness is all.

However Peter also experiences the second danger because J Jonah Jameson, head of the biggest paper in the city, is ALWAYS shouting how Spidey is a menace. Menace! MENACE! Despite Spider-Man saving his life multiple times, AND his son, AND NYC, AND the World over and over...

But no. MENACE!

The good news is the average NYC person doesn’t seem to fear Spider-Man. Unless Joe f--kin’ Quesada is writing the story or the episode because yeah, THAT isn’t tired and played out. But such a thing is a good example of the double danger. Either they cynically refuse to believe in his goodness...or they call him a chump behind his back. Just as Glaucon said they would.

But what does Plato say in response? Well, Plato says that in the long run we’ll be happier both in life and in death, if we live in accordance with justice by turning our attention to the good. Morality reflects the true, deep character of the universe. Those who are committed to the good are committed to what is profoundly and eternally true. It’s no accident this viewpoint’s seen as religious, writers from St. Augustine to C.S Lewis have viewed his metaphysical version of the world as very much congruent to their own faith.

It’s also a matter of mutual responsibilities. Tobe a parent or a son or daughter or husband or wife or a citizen of a state means you have duties to the other. Certain obligations are just part of those kinds of relationships. It doesn’t just merely become grounds to love doing good but to enforce morality across wider stretches and turn it into duty.

For example, driving at a moderate speed is a good thing to do, but we also further enforce this as a legal obligation with speed limits. We don’t just have a moral duty to do the right thing, but a legal one at that. And that’s before we get into any kind of open religious reason for being good. Ultimately, Kierkegaard makes the argument, much like Plato, that humans have a simple reason to behave good. Because our own deepest and ultimate happiness is found by following the path of neighbor love.

But of course, now we get to an opposing viewpoint that has sprung up a lot. The concern of UTILITARIANISM. Let me paint a picture for you of a comic featuring Batman. The Joker is on trial for poisoning stamps. People lick them and they die. This time...the Joker’s found guilty and is going to death row. He is, in fact, going to DIE. And nobody could really argue that he doesn’t deserve it. Even though I’m almost completely against the death penalty...

It’s the goddamn JOKER. There are SOME exceptions to the rule. Some people who, absolutely, one hundred percent, would be too, TOO dangerous to let live and whom everyone else in the world would be better off if they were dead, who’ve proven, even if they were unarmed and had nothing but a glass of water...would smash that glass of water, cut the throats of everyone around them and then grab your gun and shoot you.

But...here’s the thing. THIS time...the Joker’s innocent. Batman knows he didn’t do it.

So...what should he do? A lot of us, and I’m tempted myself, would say, well, “Let the motherf--ker fry in the chair”.

Let’s think up another possibility. The Green Goblin has lasso’d an irritated dishwasher. He’s soaring on his Goblin Glider, the poor guy being dragged behind him, screaming all the way, he gets broken ribs and everything. Luckily, Spider-Man saves him. Now, what nobody knows is the guy was a disgrunted employee who had a gun in his pocket. He was gonna unload it into the first asshole in the diner he worked at because he was sick and tired of being underpaid by a cruel boss, picked on at work, and he just one day has decided he’s had enough. With what he WENT through now though, he gives up on his plan, destroys his gun, and signs up for an anger management course. 

So was what the Green Goblin did the right thing? Well, a UTILITARIAN would argue yes, it was. But surely that’s not correct, dragging a rando around Fifth and Main with the intention of traumatizing the guy and maybe even killing him just to use him as bait for his nemesis is CLEARLY an evil act, even if it UNINTENTIONALLY produces a greater good. 

So who do we turn to now? Let’s try Immanuel Kant. Kant maintained our fundamental duty is to act in a way that satisfies what’s called the “categorical imperative”. A formulation that states we should ALWAYS treat people as an ends in themselves, not MERELY as means. This comes down to treating people as always having intrinsic value, and never just using them for our own purposes as if they just had INSTRUMENTAL value. But remember, performing an action in accordance with the categorical imperative alone isn’t enough to make it good. You have to do it because it is your duty to do it! If an action treats an individual as an ends in and of themselves and the person performs the action regarding such individuals in way that indicates they’re following their duty of treating people appropriately, then their action is good. So treat others first as people, not as means to an end, and do it for the right reasons, not for selfish ones. It’s your duty to yourself, to others in Kant’s eyes. 

So what are these “duties” though? Now we get into the weeds. There’s positive and negative duties. Positive is stuff like tending to  the sick. Feeding and clothing the poor. Negative duties are obligations to REFRAIN from doing things that harm people, like assaulting an innocent person or maliciously lying to them. By doing our positive duties, we treat people as ends in and of themselves by showing them respect, and we’re fulfilling our negative duties by avoid treating them as merely a means. 

Spider-Man dives into this sort of thinking a lot. It’s classic line “with great power comes great responsibility” is an admonishment for people to be careful with the powers they have. Those who have power have a duty and an obligation to help those in need. Boiled down simply, its answering the question of “But why be moral at all?” For one, if you fail to do your duty, there will be negative consequences that affect you, directly or indirectly. But then again, this can be questionable. Sometimes reason one isn’t convincing in a world where evil can easily bring profit and virtue none at all. So what’s the second reason?

Because it’s right. 

People like Kant and FH. Bradley, another philosopher, have brought this up. Appealing to someone’s self-interest in the name of getting them to do a moral duty is basically missing the point. Them doing it for pragmatic or selfish reasons means they’re not behaving morally at all. You have to do the right thing BECAUSE it’s right. Not for some self-interested reward. But what if we’re given very strong reasons to do the wrong thing? Then doing the right thing would be irrational. So we have to make sure we’re not being irrational in doing the right thing.

So if reason one and reason two don’t work...is there a third reason? Well, yes. Let’s go back to Plato. Plato says “It’s the only way you’ll really have piece of mind”. According to Plato, a person’s soul consists of reason, of appetites, and the “spirited element”. Reason includes the conscience, and reason MUST govern the soul or the soul is discordant, lacking in harmony. But there’s plenty of people who don’t approach life from a dominantly moral perspective, so does this idea work? After all, even many morally upright people face temptation at some point, or give in occasionally. 

Artistole had another answer. Virtue is its own reward. Being moral is a greater benefit to you than any benefit you might obtain at the expense of your good moral character. Unfortunately that doesn’t seem necessarily true,, the rewards of perfect virtue do not always compensate compared to the rewards for wrongdoing. So then what’s next? 

Reason five! Doing good pays off in the long run. Now, if you’re a religious person, you may already know about this answer. It’s very similar to reason one. But we don’t have to accept it. It calls for some strong metaphysical positions about the nature of reality. 

But then again, maybe it’s not a singular answer that IS the answer. Maybe the multitude of reasons given here are good enough. Maybe it’s a little of them all that explains WHY heroes should behave in a moral way. Why people should be moral and good. Ultimately, how you choose to answer the question”Why be moral”...that’s up to you, and hopefully, you can be proud of the answer you give. 

[alirhi]

This is oddly fun lol

Let's see how many of these I can churn out before I get distracted or need a break! (pff. like I need an excuse to watch the show again. Despite its flaws, I really, really love TFATWS, guys)

Without further ado, let's get down to it!

Episode 2: The Star-Spangled Man

I'm pretty sure I'm on record when it comes to my undying hate for John Walker, yes? So obviously, Bucky's grumpiness 100% stays 😂

I'm not really a fan of how much emphasis they put on the shield. I can see it as a catalyst for Bucky to go confront Sam, yes, but he wouldn't keep going "shield shield shield" like a broken record. Bucky has consistently been shown to be an empathetic man. I can't believe for a second that he'd be barking at Sam about having no right to give up the shield; he'd ask why. Sam's got shit to do, so he'd get impatient and not answer.

"Why'd you give up so easily? If you were overwhelmed, I could've helped you-" "You've been ignoring me. Like now, how you're ignoring me walking away from you." "Well, you weren't texting me about this." "You think I needed your permission?!" "No, but I was right there with Steve while he was learning what it meant to be Cap. I wouldn't mind helping you get used to-" "Then go teach him." A vague gesture toward the "Cap is back" posters. Bucky makes a face. "Steve passed the mantle to you. You fought with him. You earned it. That little shit didn't." "What do you want me to do about it?" "Just tell me why, Sam. I mean it. I just wanna understand." "Not now, Buck. I've got shit to do. You see me heading for a plane right now, right?" "This is important!" "So is this." Sam tells him about the Flag Smashers, we get our silly Big Three/Gandalf conversation.

I'm sorry, but that whole jumping from the plane scene is funny as hell, and I love all the nods they added in to jokes from the press tours that brought us this show in the first place (like ripping the sleeve off his jacket lol). I don't think I'd change a single thing from the Big Three convo to Bucky joining Sam in the warehouse.

"You're doing the staring thing again." "You're staring at your watch," Bucky points out. He knows it's linked to Redwing, he's just pointing out how dumb that line is in that situation. They're there for recon lol. They're meant to be looking around.

I don't...particularly care about the other common gripe here? Meaning, "Bucky's a civilian, so why is he allowed to randomly jump in on a military mission?" Bucky's also known in this universe as an Avenger, just like Sam, so I don't think anyone would really bat an eye at him joining. Also, I have my own agenda related to Bucky's apparent freedom to walk in and out of military/government things.

What does bug me (as funny as it is) is Bucky's animosity toward Redwing. Again... Bucky is a certified nerd. Always has been. If anything, he'd be fascinated by Redwing and Sam would constantly have to slap him away because he's leaning in too close trying to see the tiny watch monitor. "I don't trust Redwing" is just old man griping "I don't trust your newfangled technology" and that... that's not Bucky.

And that "we're not assassins" dig, and then laughing when Bucky gets upset? That's not Sam. Both of these men have shown a remarkable amount of empathy, and Sam has a background in helping traumatized vets. If he cared enough about Bucky to be texting him after Steve left, he'd care enough not to make callous jokes about his time as The Winter Soldier, whether he knows the full story or not.

The fight on top of moving trucks looks cool, but makes no logical sense. I keep trying to think of a way to explain this from a story perspective, rather than a lazy "it looks cool!" filmmaking one, and I'm coming up blank. Anyone with half a brain would have pulled over, had the fight, and then taken off. It was a fun sequence, though... Eh. I'll leave it.

When Karli breaks Redwing, Bucky doesn't say "I always wanted to do that." Again, it's funny - I love the jabs about that stupid robo bird XD - but not Bucky. In my version, he smirks and says "You're so gonna regret that."

"You were kinda getting your asses kicked before we got there." Is immediately followed by Bucky staring him down and asking, "And... how did that fight end for you?" Sam adds, "I don't see them in custody. Are-are they following in a van?" He looks around, sarcastically searching for another vehicle. Walker and Hoskins grimace at each other, grudgingly conceding that point.

credit to @dailycelebs

Seeing Walker, and having to listen to his stupid pro-government rhetoric, makes Bucky think about Steve. When we cut from the Flag Smashers back to Bucky and Sam and the closeup of Bucky's pensive face, we hear 1940s Steve angrily telling 1940s Bucky about how the higher ups in the army had already written off the POWs and were going to leave them to die. "I love our country, Buck," he laments, "but what do I do when I'm not too sure anymore about the people who run it?"

"What you always do," is young Bucky's answer, "stand for what's right, not who's in power."

Perfect lead-in to the conversation about handling things themselves.

When Sam meets Isaiah, and hears his story, not only is he horrified and heartsick for him, but he also begins to see Bucky in a new light. He's seeing Bucky's face, the way he tries to hide his emotions and not make this conversation about him, and he's putting things together. He's still upset at being out of the loop, but he's seeing more of the situation than just "omg black super soldier". When Bucky says "he'd already been through enough," Sam asks quietly, "like you?"

The racist cop comes back before Bucky can answer, to arrest him for missing his appointment with Raynor.

ngl guys, I was so moved by the difference in how that cop treated Sam (before knowing he's Important) vs how he treated Bucky (knowing that the government views him as a violent, if pardoned, criminal). He approaches Sam with his hand on his gun, eager to defend Bucky; "is this guy bothering you?" Just because they're having a heated conversation. Then, when he sees that there's a warrant for Bucky, he approaches timidly, apologizes, treats him gently and politely. By "moved," btw, I don't mean "it was so sweet." I mean "this is fucking sick, and very, very realistic." White cops see a white guy and treat him with respect regardless of his actual criminal record, while being openly hostile towards an innocent black man without even knowing who he is, just because he's black. Moments like this made me applaud Spellman.

"You, too, Sam - That wasn't a request" is Sam's first sign that there's something off about Raynor.

Look, again... The couples therapy banter is funny because Sebastian and Anthony are funny, but that scene, from a storytelling and a mental health standpoint, is atrocious. Without some underlying reason behind her actions, Raynor is just a pointlessly terrible therapist.

Rather than insulting Bucky from the outset, Sam is angry with Raynor for violating Bucky's privacy by not only introducing herself as his therapist, but forcing a "couples" session without her patient's consent. With his background pre-Avenging, he knows this shit shouldn't fly. He immediately points out how unprofessional she's being.

Raynor doesn't bother listening - the fuck does she care, really? She shrugs and casually admits it's "slightly unprofessional" but proceeds anyway.

"Whatever's eating at him?" Sam scoffs. "Did you really just say that to a WWII veteran and the world's longest-serving POW with complex PTSD? Did I hear that right? I've had, maybe, like five conversations with this man since we met, and even I know he's been through some shit and-" "Sam," Bucky tries to interrupt, looking uncomfortable. With his crushing guilt, he has an easier time dealing with insults than someone coming to his defense. "No," Sam snaps. "If the HIPAA Slayer over here wants to drag me into this, she's damn well gonna hear what I have to say!" He turns back to Raynor and demands, "Is this how you've been treating him this whole time? Downplaying what he's been through and making a grown-ass man sound like a sulking teenager?" Raynor keeps her cool, but barely. Visibly frustrated and annoyed, she ignores Sam's tirade and tries to force the conversation back onto the track she wants it on. Bucky's embarrassed and doesn't know how to react to any of this, so he still makes that little "he would talk less" jab. Sam, seeing that he's not going to get anywhere with him until they're away from this bitch, glowers and plays along. We get our silly/angry banter.

After their argument with Walker, Sam finally confronts Bucky about what really happened to him.

"He meant HYDRA; HYDRA used to be my people." "Were they?" Sam asks, stopping him and looking him in the eye, not letting him look away or deflect. "Steve was under the impression that they were your captors. I was under the impression that the Wakandans spent two years deprogramming you so no one could use you the way HYDRA did ever again." "I-" Startled, not expecting that, Bucky stutters a little and admits, "Yeah, I... That's true, I guess." "You guess?" "Does it matter? Sam rolls his eyes. "I dunno, does it matter that you were a slave for most of the 20th century?" "I doubt it matters much to my victims." "HYDRA's victims," Sam corrects firmly. "Just like you." Bucky fidgets; he doesn't know what to do or say. No one since Steve has even so much as insinuated that Bucky wasn't 100% culpable for what he did while under HYDRA control. "Look," Sam sighs, "I don't particularly like you. I don't hate you, but I'm not your biggest fan." "...Thanks?" "I just need you to know where I stand-" "Yeah, got it-" "-So you know I'm not biased like Steve when I say you had no choice. I don't know your story, but I know no one flips on a dime from docile and plagued with guilt to an unstoppable killing machine and back without some serious psychological damage behind that. I'm not saying you're an innocent little bunny, but I don't think you're a monster." "Thanks," Bucky croaks, more sincerely this time, and a bit choked up. He clears his throat and looks distinctly uncomfortable as he grumbles, "but to catch these guys, we may need to talk to a monster." Sam cringes. "I was afraid you'd say that."

[citysvein]

                *   //    𝙻𝙾𝙰𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶  𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙵𝙸𝙻𝙴   …   /𝚃𝙷𝙴_𝙲𝙾𝙾𝚁𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙰𝚃𝙾𝚁   :    chloe   kim   also   known   as   zero   is   wanted   for   grand   larceny   .   she   is   a   twenty-three   year   old   cis   female   who   has   ties   to   the   mastermind   because   she   hacked   into   his   private   server  ;   once   at   the   request   of   a   benefactor   and   another   time   for   fun   .   𝙰𝚂𝚂𝙾𝙲𝙸𝙰𝚃𝙴𝙳   𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷   :   strawberry   flavored   bubblegum   ,   the   glow   of   a   computer   screen   in   a   dark   room  ,   tattoos   hidden   by   oversized   sweater   sleeves   ,   &   cyber   stalking   your   exes   .   𝙳𝙾   𝙽𝙾𝚃   𝙼𝙸𝚂𝚃𝙰𝙺𝙴   𝙵𝙾𝚁   :   yoo shiah   .  

━  ˙ ˖  ☆     QUICK  STATS  !

full  name  :   chloe   kim   .

nickname(s)  :   chlo   .

age   :   twenty-three   . 

codename   :   zero   .

role:   the   coordinator   .   

zodiac  :   gemini   sun   ,   gemini   moon   (  click   !  )

sexuality  :   bisexual   .

alignment   :   chaotic   neutral   .

pinterest   :   (   click !   )  

━  ˙ ˖  ☆     BACKSTORY  !    (  tw  :  death  &  car  crash  )

chloe   kim   was   born   in   and   raised   in   ann   arbor   ,   michigan   .   there   was   nothing   truly   remarkable   about   her   childhood   —   she   was   an   only   child   born   into   a   middle   class   family    .    her   mother   was   a   professor   and   her   father   was   a   physical   therapist   ,   and   they   were   very   happily   married   ,   so   she   had   a   stable   life   .   ann   arbor   was   a   fittingly   normal    place   to   grow   up   .   nothing   too   out   of   the   ordinary   ever   seemed   to   happen   .

the   only   anomaly   in   chloe’s   unremarkable   existence   ,    it   seemed   ,   was   herself   .   from   a   young   age   it   was   obvious   she   wasn’t   like   most   kids   .    she   was   decidedly   smarter   ,   an   intelligence   that   impressed   the   adults   around   her   .   her   parents   often   described   her   as   a   highly   curious   ,   if   not   a   little   naughty   ,    child   .   it   seemed   like   she   was   born   with   the   desire   to   know   how   the   world   around   her   worked   ,   and   it   wasn’t   uncommon   to   find   her   tinkering   around   with   her   toys   or   household   objects    ,    taking   them   apart   just   so   she   could   learn   how   to   put   them   back   together   .   

she   graduated   from   high   school   at   sixteen   ,   a   year   early   ,   and   was   offered   a   full   ride   to   MIT   ,   which   she   gladly   accepted   .   moving   to   cambridge,   massachusetts   marked   the   most   interesting   thing   to   happen   to   her   yet   .   she’d   long   dreamed   of   excitement   ,   the   only   thing   she   had   to   entertain   her   back   home   being   her   love   for   computers   .   chloe   was   ready   for   a   change   ,   which   was   exactly   what   she   received   .  

free   from   the   confines   of   being   that   one   smart   girl   in   ann   arbor   ,   she   didn’t   feel   pressured   to   conform   to   the   idea   of   her   that   had   been   carefully   crafted   by   the   people   back   home   any   longer   .   she   didn’t   just   have   to   care   about   school   ,   or   be   shy   about   how   she   unironically   loved   reality   tv   ,   or   pretend   like   pink   wasn’t   the   absolute   best   color   in   the   whole   world   .   facing   comments   from   nerdy   boys   about   how   she   was   too   pretty   to   be   smart   or   about   how   she   was   clearly   in   the   wrong   class   seemed   like   a   small   price   to    pay   if   she   could   finally   be   herself   .

MIT   ,   however   ,   did   feel   like   the   wrong   place   for   chloe   most   of   the   time   .   she   realized   very   quickly   that   while   she   was   gifted   and   bright   ,   she   had   no   passion   or   drive   to   pursue   typical   careers   the   way   most   people   in   her   major   did   .   she   also   had   a   knack   for   using   her   skills   in   unconventional   (   if   not   illegal   )   ways   ,   like   when   she   started   charging   a   pretty   penny   to   hack   boyfriends   suspected   by   their   girlfriends   of   cheating   ,   or   hacking   into   the   local   police   database   to   browse   through   people’s   criminal   records   like   it   was   the   equivalent   of   reading   gossip   magazines   .

at   the   end   of   her   junior   year   ,   after   voicing   her   concerns   about   whether   or   not   university   life   was   for   her   to   her   parents   in   one   of   her   weekly   calls   back   home   ,   they’d   made   the   decision   to   go   surprise   chloe   .   after   flying   into   massachusetts   from   michigan   they’d   rented   a   car   and   were   on   their   way   to   drive   up   to   her   dorm   when   they   got   into   a   fatal   accident   .   there   had   been   a   nasty   storm   that   night   ,   and   chloe   can   still   remember   how   she’d   gotten   a   severe   thunderstorm   warning   alert   on   her   cellphone   moments   before   she   got   the   police   call   informing   her   of   what   happened   .

in   the   blink   of   an   eye   her   life   had   gone   from   average   to   tragic   .   she   couldn’t   process   the   death   of   her   parents   —   there   was   no   other   driver   to   blame   ,   nothing   faulty   about   the   rental   car    they’d   been   driving   ,   only   the   weather   and   the   slippery   roads   .   chloe   would   have   surely   flunked   out   from   MIT   had   her   professors   ,   who   mostly   harbored   soft   spots   for   the   girl   and   were   especially   sympathetic   towards   her   situation   ,   not   given   her   the   few   credits   she   needed   to   graduate   that   spring   .

armed   with   an   IT   degree   but   not   much   else   ,   chloe   went   back   to   ann   arbor   for   her   parent’s   funeral   and   the   selling   of   her   childhood   home   .   realizing   she   had   no   place   to   go   afterwards   ,   she   became   a   bit   of   a   vagabond   ,   spending   the   entirety   of   her   19th   year   living   out   of   motel   rooms   in   various   cities   .   not   in   the   head   space   for   a   full   time   career   ,   and   with   her   mind   still   foggy   from   mourning   ,   she   started   picking   up   where   she’d   left   off   in   college   in   terms   of   odd   and   illegal   ways   to   make   money.   

when   she   was  20   she   caught   the   attention   of   someone   she  quickly   realized   was   important   ,   a   client   with   a   request   and   a   payday   like   nothing   she’d   ever   seen   before   .   all   he   wanted   chloe   to   do   was   hack   into   someone’s   private   server   ,   and   so   she   did   .   she   didn’t   ask   questions   but   she   did   snoop   around   ,   a   small   act   or   curiosity   that   would   forever   change   her   world   .   what   she   found   was   almost   incomprehensible   ,   a   network   of   some  sort   with   the   most   detailed   plans   and   profiles   .   never   having   been   motivated   by   any   sort   of   moral   compass   before   ,   chloe   couldn’t   explain   why   she   lied   to   the   man   who   had   hired   her   ,   claiming   she   hadn’t   been   skilled   enough   to   get   through   .   

he’d   bought   her   excuse   ,   another   man   who   couldn’t   see   past   a   pretty   face   to   the   brain   behind   it    .   for   months   afterwards   chloe   tried   to   forget   about   the   things   she’d   seen   and   read   ,   that   exciting   world   she’d   only   discovered   by   chance   ,    but   she   just   couldn’t   let   it   go   .   she   was   inexplicably   drawn   to   whoever   was   behind   it   all   ,   proving   it   when   she   hacked   them   a   second   time   around   ,    this   time   for   her   own   entertainment   and   satisfaction   .   she   couldn’t   explain   it   —   especially   not   when   she   left   behind   a   trail   this   time   around   ,   wanting   to   be   caught   ,   wanting   so   desperately   to   be   contacted   .   

when   chloe   is   recruited   by   J    ,   it   feels   like   the   first   blessing   since   her   parent’s   deaths   .   it   wasn’t   the   money   she   was   interested   in   ,   but   him   ,   the   way   he   makes   people   feel   special   and   needed   filling   a   void   she’d   never   let   herself   admit   she   had   in   the   first   place   .   she’s   loyal   to   him   ,   and   so   she’s   loyal   to   the   crew   ,   and   for   the   first   time   in   her   whole   life   it   feels   like   she   might   have   found   the   place   she   truly   belongs   .         

━  ˙ ˖  ☆     PERSONALITY  +  TIDBITS  !

thats   right   ...   i   made   her   a   double   gemini   baby   !   😈   its   just   chaos   all   over   as   u   can   imagine   ...   gotta   love   a   sexy   sign   aha   no   im   not   biased   <3   she’s   got   a   pretty   good   balance   of   intelligence   &   curiosity   in   her   ,   so   instead   of   coming   off   as   a   know-it-all   she’s   more   likely   to   come   across   as   nosy   .   she   just   loves   to   figure   stuff   out    .   whether   it’s   code   or   people   she   wants   to   know   how   things   work   .

generally   speaking   ,   she’s   pretty   easy   going   !    when   it   comes   to   her   relationships   with   people   she’s   not   that   high   maintenance   ,   in   fact   sometimes   it’s   easy   to   mistake   her   easy   going   attitude   with   aloofness   or   disinterest   ,   which   isn’t   the   case   at   all   .   when   she   does   get   annoyed   though   she’s   not   shy   about   letting   you   know   how   she   feels   ,   and   she’s   got   a   BIG   potty   mouth   ...   it’s   like   when   people   have   road   rage   SJDBWJDBJW   she’ll   curse   you   out   in   a   short   burst   of   anger   then   decide   she’s   over   it   before   you   even   have   time   to   process   what   happened   . 

since   she’s   been   on   her   own   pretty   much   her   whole   life   (   no   siblings   ,   no   set   group   of   friends   )   it   was   a   bumpy   adjustment   to   go   from   having   no   one   to   being   part   of   a   team   .   she   definitely   wasn’t   upset   by   it   ,   but   chloe   can   get   into   trouble   sometimes   because   she’s   got   a   knack   for   always   saying   what   she’s   thinking   without   filtering   herself   first   ,   so   she’s   definitely   started   some   arguments   or   hurt   some   feelings   on   accident   </3   

loves   to   joke   around   and   treat   things   like   they’re   no   big   deal   ,   even   when   they   are   .   this   is   especially   true   when   it   comes   to   her   own   abilities   .   she’ll   casually   mention   hacking   into   a   number   of   high   security   facilities   and   servers   and   how   she   bought   a   new   sailor   moon   hoodie   in   the   same   sentence   like   it’s   nothing   .

almost   always   either   dressed   in   pink   or   black   ,   or   a   combination   of   the   two   .   she   swears   she   owns   clothes   in   other   colors   but   those   two   are   definitely   her   defaults   .   switches   between   more   casual   street-styles   and   girly   attire   on   a   day   to   day   basis   .   owns   many   sanrio   themed   articles   of   clothing   ,   accessories   ,   and   plushies   and   will   accept   zero   criticism   about   it   !    

chews   gum   a   lot    ,   but   especially   when   she’s   working   on   her   computer   .   she   claims   it   helps   her   focus   but   who   knows   for   sure   maybe   she   just   likes   chomping   and   blowing   bubbles   ...

she’s   a   serial   dater   .   chloe   finally   had   to   force   herself   to   swear   off   tinder   because   she   kept   doing   extensive   background  searches   (   hacking   )   on   the   people   she   was   going   on   dates   with   .  still   cyber   stalks   her   exes   but   she   swears   it’s   purely   an   act   of   public   service   since   they   were   all   insane   (   in   her   opinion   ,    which   is   never   wrong   )   and   she’s   just   trying   to   make   sure   they   haven’t   committed   any   major   crimes   aha   x   

not   very   good   at   being   romantic   or   emotionally   vulnerable   SDBWJDBJW   truly   the   thought   alone   is   terrifying   enough   but   when   she   watches   pride   and   prejudice   alone   at   2am   she   cries   so   your   girl   has   it   in   her   she’s   just   not   there   yet   <3   physical   intimacy   she   has   no   issue   with   it’s   just   the   serious   stuff   that   makes   her   want   to   eat   glass   ...   or   so   she   says   .

has   questionable   drinking   habits   .   can   she   out   drink   a   man   twice   her   size   ?    sure   .   should   she   be   putting   that   to   the   test   at   10   am   at   a   chili’s   after   a   night   out   ?   absolutely   not   but   it   100%   happened   and   she   would   probably   do   it   again   because   she   simply   pretends   her   mistakes   never   happened   in   the   first   place   and   that’s   why   she   never   learns   !

absolutely   refuses   to   talk   to   anyone   about   her   life   and   what   happened   to   her   parents   .   she   still   hasn’t   fully   grieved   or   processed   it   ,   and   honestly   speaking   she’s   been   using   the   crew   and   J   as   a   coping   mechanism   almost   .   chloe’s   adamant   belief   in   the   heists   they   do   and   their   capabilities   as   a   unit   has   less   to   do   with   the   real   chances   on   whether   or   not   they   can   pull   something   off   and   everything   to   do   with   the   fact   that   she   needs   things   to   work   and   she   needs   them   to   be   together   .   that’s   why   she’s   usually   one   of   the   first   ones   to   pep   talk   people   when   there   are   doubts   .   she   can’t   risk   losing   a   second   family   /: 

low   key   addicted   to   getting   tattoos   .   it   started   with   tiny   ones   on   her   fingers   and   wrists   and   now   she’s   thinking   about   getting   a   sleeve   ...   if   only   she   could   decide   on   what   to   get   tattooed   #AirSignThings   x   don’t   ask   her   to   make   decisions   if   you   want   an   answer   before   this   decade   ends   .

strawberry   is   her   favorite   fruit   and   flavor   !   if   she’s   not   chewing   strawberry   gum   ,   she’s   drinking   strawberry   milk   .

once   started   an   instagram   to   review   different   mozzarella   sticks   after   lorde   was   outed   for   running   an   onion   ring   reviewing   instagram   .

won   a   goldfish   at   a   fair   when   she   was   in   college   ,   named   him   stinky   ,   then   cried   for   a   week   straight   after   she   found   him   floating   dead   in   his   fish   bowl   the   next   day   ...   she   hasn’t   had   a   pet   since   </3   

if   you   ever   tell   chloe   good   job   she   will   act   cool   in   the   moment   but   at   night   when   she’s   trying   to   go   to   bed   she   will   look   like   this   🥺   never   forgets   a   compliment   she   loves   them   even   if   she   pretends   she   doesn’t   need   them   ...

told   myself   i’d   make   this   short   by   not   adding   a   plots   section   and   it’s   still   a   novel   truly   i   hate   this   life   .   once   again   i   am   asking   u   to   add   me   on   discord   glo lovecore ʕ´• ᴥ•̥`ʔ#8172   and   plot   with   me   💖   also   my   intros   are   always   winged   so  if   i   start   writing   as   chloe   and   her   personality   does   a   180   like   dua   lipa   said   PLEASE   mind   ur   business   that’s   why   i   made   her   a   gemini   ok   😭😭😭   pls   enjoy   this   meme   chloe   has   probably   sent   to   ur   muse   at   least   once   ...

[justaghostingon]

Superhero Au Chapter 9: Awkward Encounters

Kodya

The Mini Scouts were, Kodya was reluctant to admit, very useful. In the last few days he’d gotten more sleep than he had in the last week combined. Even better, he now knew exactly how many creatures were attacking where, and the mini scouts would even try to clear away civilians from the scenes. Not that it had much effect against press, but still.

Now if only they weren’t so...

“User Simple!” the Mini Scout chirped in his ear. “Your blood sugar is down 10% would you like to stop and get a snack? Apples are a very nutritional treat!”

Annoying. That was the word for them. Kodya shoved it away. “I’m in the middle of something!” he said as he cut through a jelly.

The Mini Scout hovered above him, unbothered by the goo now covering him. “If you do not like apples, I am programmed with a list of available fruits to recommend you.”

“Uuuggh!” Kodya turned his sword into a bow and shot two more. “Is there a way to turn you off?”

“That would be ill advised. Your connection to the network is a primary part of your mission,” the Mini Scout chirped.

“I can’t do my mission with you yapping all the time!” Kodya snapped as he killed the last jelly with his sword.

“Incorrect. Diagnostics reveal you can easily handle jellies regardless of what else claims your attention.” Kodya’s eyes snapped to the mini scout, which hovered innocently beside him. Was it snarking him?

The Mini Scout began to beep, “Incoming call from user Gyrus.”

“Simple!” A familiar voice crackled from the mini scout.

Kodya rolled his eyes. “Don’t call me that.”

“Its to protect your secret identity. Your a superhero you should know this.” Kodya could picture the kid frowning on the other side of the radio. “But that’s not important!” Gyrus’s voice rose sharply. “The Mini Scouts picked up another creature’s signature. Its that many headed one, the hydra!”

Kodya cursed in Russian. “Where?” He grabbed the nearest arrow and prepared to run.

“I’m sending the coordinates to Mini scout. Folow him.” The Mini Scout began to fly south and Kodya raced after it. “But Simple,” The kid’s voice rang out beside Kodya. “There’s something you should know. The Mini Scouts aren’t alone...”

Kodya rounded a corner to see a flash of red slash off the great beast’s middle head. “There’s someone else fighting,” The kid’s voice echoed over the scene. Red darted left and took off another head. The beast roared and rose up on its hind legs, ready to stamp her into the ground.

Kodya’s arrow buried in its chest. The creature started, took one step forward and collapsed in a pile of green goo. It rained over Red, coating her hair and staining her white clothes green.

“What were you thinking!” Red stormed toward Kodya, knife still clutched tight in her right hand.

Kodya raised an eyebrow. “Killing the monster.”

“You’re making a mess!” Red guestured to the slime covering her. “This stuff is toxic!”

“No it’s not!” Gyrus’s voice came over the mini scout before Kodya had a chance to open his mouth. “Studying it was the first thing we did, and it was marked as harmless.”

“Well you haven’t studied it properly,” snarled Red. “Because it is effecting people! Badly!”

Kodya frowned. Something about what she said sparked a memory long buried. Of rows and rows of makeshift hospital beds in a gym. Nephthys ran between them, dispersing blankets. He’d waved but she’d shook her head and made a shooing motion with her hand. He’d been confused because she was usually so happy to see him. But she tugged at her sleeve, and he’d looked down at the blue goo covering his shirt and jeans. Of course. How had he forgotten? The older folks didn’t like to see goo in the makeshift hospital. But...

“It doesn’t do any good. It’s already spread,” Kodya murmured to himself.

“Huh?” said the kid through the mini scout.

“What does that mean?” Red stepped closer.

Kodya frowned and drew himself up to his full hight. “It’s nothing to do with you.”

“If it’s to do with that,” Red pointed at the remains of the monster behind her. “Then it’s to do with me. What do you know?” She jabbed at his chest.

“Hey now! Lets all calm down!” the kid’s Mini Scout flew inbetween them.

Kodya rolled his eyes, “It would take far to long to explain...” Something slammed into him, cutting him off. He fell forward against Red and the mini scout. Together they tumbled down, the mini scout hitting the hard ground with a nasty crunch. Kodya landed half on Red, tangled in a mess of rope and wire.

“What the hell?” Red exclaimed. “Get off me!” She shoved Kodya further to the side, which only caused the ropes to cut deeper into his arms and back.

He grimaced. “Believe me,” he said as he struggled against the ropes. “Nothing would make me happier.”

“Oh are the lovers having an argument?” A voice taunted from above. “Two’s gonna love this!” Kodya twisted his neck to see a figure with purple skin and six eyes learing at them. A humanoid figure, could it be?

A loud explosion cut through the air. Beside him Red gasped. “Those fiends! They’re robbing the bank!” She struggled to get up, but the ropes and Kodya’s right arm held her down. She glared at him. “We need to stop them!”

“You’re not gonna do anything but sit pretty while we steal the money and take your boyfriend here,” the purple figure sneered. Red spat over Kodya’s shoulder. He winced as far away as he could go.

The monster’s voice turned sour. “Or better yet. We’ll kill you and take him in pieces!” It lunged forward.

The clink of metal against metal rang out as something moved between them and the purple freak. Red’s eyes went wide. Kodya struggled to look behind him. The hiss of electricity filled the air as the purple freak screamed. He caught a glimpse of yellow. Was that?

“User Simple,” A Mini Scout materialized beside him. “Please remain calm.”

“Get us out!” Kodya snapped as the Mini Scout began to scan the ropes.

“What are these things?” The purple freak shouted as the Mini Scouts swarmed them, attacking with little shockers.

“Our shockers are not designed for precision work.” The Mini Scout stated calmly over the screams of the purple freak. “Please be patient, this may take some time.” It slowly began to cut at the ropes with its shockers.

“Hey Six! We gotta go!” A voice called out. “Grab the freak and run!”

“I can’t!” The purple freak snapped as they batted uselessly at the mini scouts. “These star freaks are in the way!”

“Come or we leave without you!” The voice insisted. The purple freak hesitated, then took off out of Kodya’s vision.

Kodya twisted to try to see where they went, to see anything, but it didn’t work. “Stop moving!” Red snapped as the mini scout shocked her. “You are not helping!”

“They’re getting away!” Kodya shouted. He needed to get out. He could not lose his only lead for something like this!

Red hit him. “I can see that! Stop moving so I can get a better look at the license plate!”

Kodya instantly stopped. “You can see it?”

“Ai!” Red replied as the sound of a car faded away. “Now be silent so I don’t forget it.”

The Mini Scouts decended on the ropes to cut them all off in record speed. Kodya and Red both scrambled away, glaring at each other. “User Simple,” A Mini Scout rose from the group.

Kodya ignored it. “What was the license plate number?”

“User Simple!” The mini scout insisted.

“Who were they?” Red countered. “And why did they want you?”

Kodya crossed his arms. “I told you it would take to long to explain!”

“User Simple!” the mini scout’s volume increased.

“What!” Both Kodya and Red snapped.

“The press is here,” the mini scout said as a wave of reporters swarmed the scene.

“White knight and Simple!” A reporter called out. “Was this a team up gone wrong?”

Kodya glanced at the glaring Red, then back to the reporters, and wondered if he could get the mini scouts to work on press too.

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Nineteen

Table of Contents or Part Eighteen

Pairing: Douglas Booth!Nikki Sixx x OC

Word Count: 2.4k

Warning(s): Language, mentions of drugs abuse, mentions of domestic violence

A/N: Tried to update last night but it kept telling me there was a problem uploading it and to try again later so now is later

Tag List: @cierrasixx19 @oskea93 @mgkobsessed @vamprlestat @sharon6713 @itsametaphorbriansblog @miriampraez @allie-mcginn @rebeccaphillips14 @nicholeh7 @fandomshit6000 @lilmou5ie @tamedhearts @divaanya @kingbouji3 @evrsncnewyork @6ixx6ixx @ratedrkohardychick91 @floregrohlssard @oldschoolimagineblog @thanks2pete @abaldboi @swoopygorl @justjodeye @liith-ium @caos18blog @ytwahsog @shamlessobsessions @scarecrowmax @toadspleen @random-internet-user-4471 @solohqrry @loveofmyloif

LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED

———————————————————————

"Shit." My hand shakes, holding the positive pregnancy test.

My mind races a mile a minute as I hear the bathroom door open and someone walks in with their feet dragging against the floor.

"Babe, c'mon!" Nikki slurs and I let out a breath and shove the test in to my jacket pocket as I pace the tiny stall.

"You're not supposed to be in here." I tell him as I step out to wash my hands at the sink.

"I missed you." He sounds like a child, his tone reaching a high pitch and I giggle as he comes up behind me and presses a sloppy line of kisses from my cheek to my neck.

"How much did you have to drink while I was gone?" I ask, and he chuckles drunkenly, grabbing my jaw to angle my lips to his before kissing me. When he pulls away he gives one more peck to my lips and tugs at my arm.

"C'mon, I've got something for you." He pulls me away from the sink.

"Yeah, I've heard that one before." I smartly reply as I turn off the water, shaking my hands dry due to the lack of paper towels as he pulls me from the ladies room.

"C'mon, c'mon," He rushes me.

"I'm coming, Nikki." I laugh and he throws his arm around me, making sure I help keep him from falling as he stumbles slightly in the direction he's leading me as my ears are nearly buzzing from the loud music in the strip joint.

When I look at where the guys are seated, I stop in my tracks, my mouth nearly falling to the floor.

Nikki starts chuckling, looking at me with raised brows.

"That's..." I trail off, completely out of words.

"Ratt." He finishes what I was going to say. "C'mon." He nudges me and I don't move at all, baffled and sickeningly nervous.

"I can't, I look disgusting!" I whisper yell, glancing around as a waiter passes us.

"You look hot." He argues, looking me up and down. "I'd fuck You."

"You'd have sex with a couch if you could angle your dick between the cushions." I rudely shoot back and he rolls his eyes.

"It's not like you're impressing them or anything. You're married to me anyway." He fluffs his hair carelessly, smiling at me.

"Can I just meet them later? I really just want to go to the hotel." I plead, my nerves getting the best of me for being put on the spot.

"Viv, I—"

"Please, baby?" I grab his hand with both of mine, holding it to my chest as if it's a dear possession of mine and he sighs and digs in his pocket with his free hand for the car keys.

"You're driving. Lemme go tell these fuckers bye'."

"You guys are like the seven deadly sins come to life and throwing anything they can get their fuckin' hands on at each other."  Is how Fred Saunders, the band's head of security for their tours, described Nikki and I.

His job consisted of keeping us protected, even if it meant from each other.

He said that after he had separated us before we could start fist fighting, the both of us bleeding and bruised in multiple places due to having a "who can hit who with what the hardest" contest which resulted in liquor bottles, needle loaded syringes, shoes, hotel room dishes, and lamps, being hurled through the air at each other.

I didn't know what the hell else I was suppose to do after I turned on The Arsenio Hall Show just to see Vanity showing off my wedding ring—that I had presumed was just lost—claiming that she and Nikki were engaged.

I figured the freebase had officially fried the both of their brain's, and since she wasn't there in Texas where we were staying so I could include her in my outburst, Nikki just got enough of my wrath for the both of them when I found him in the neighboring room with Tommy, and attacked him like a rabid bitch.

I wasn't ever violent growing up, and although I had an outburst every now and then with Vince (because he is someone who knows exactly how to keep pushing at me until I snap) it wasn't ever my first response to just be on edge all the time and hit, cut, scratch, and punch people who got on my nerves; however, I got sick and tired of nobody listening to me.

I'd tell the dealers to "fuck off and stay fucked off"...they'd be back as soon as Nikki called. I'd tell the record company that the guys did not need to go back on the road because they were nearly spun out...they'd look me in the eye while printing out the schedule for the next leg of tour dates. I decided if I stopped being so patient and nice, and just started beating the ever loving fuck out of the people I considered partly to blame, shit would actually get done instead of just putting me on the back burner.

That was a toxic way of thinking, and I know it was, but you slap junkies when they won't wake up.

I suppose I was trying to slap everyone out of their own customized vice-induced comas.

The truth is Nikki's love for drugs, that grew more than his love for me or even himself, was the root of my resentment.

Every screaming match, every conniving thing done out of spite to one another, every affair, every bit of turmoil, all came back to his heroin addiction...which really kickstarted in 1984, when Robbin Crosby of the band Ratt—who did a handful of openings for Mötley Crüe during their last leg of the Shout At The Devil tour—taught him how to use needles.

I angrily stomp my heels down the pavement of the sidewalk as we step to our hotel entrance through the crowd of fans and photographers.

I'm completely out of it, having lost my patience a couple minutes ago when we were bombarded by reporters while leaving the club the guys practically drug me to after the show.

"Viv, I don't see the big fuckin' deal. We're married. We fuck. That's what we do. People know that's what we do." Nikki defends himself as the elevator dings, opening it's doors for all of us to go up to our room.

I don't say a word, rolling my jaw, not wanting to get into an argument with him and the guys wasted.

"It was a joke, Viv." Tommy adds innocently.

"It's not that fucking serious." Vince says next and I step out of the elevator once it stops at our floor. "Are you fucking kidding me? You're not talking to me now?" The blonde asks and I contain the urge to slap him sober.

I pluck the key from Nikki's hand and unlock the door, stepping inside to set my bag on the floor next to the bed closest to the window, hearing him shut the door behind him, roughly, while saying, “it’s not that serious, Viv.” I brush him off.

"Vivian!" Nikki raises his voice a little, catching my attention. "I’m talking to you, don’t fucking ignore me!”

"My sex life isn't the headline of a fucking run-down sleazy gossip magazine." I state pointedly, completely ignoring his comment about me ignoring him.

"It's called sex, drugs and rock n' roll for a reason, Viv, which means my sex life—a.k.a you—is and always will be the headline of a fucking run-down sleazy gossip magazine. The more attention I get, the more attention the band gets and that's how we reach the fans."

"'I treat her like a lady, so she'll stay on her knees like a groupie'?" I quote what he told a bunch of slimy reporters when we left the club, and he blinks at me.

"Do you want me to go back out there and lie and tell them the wildest that we get is fucking in missionary at the foot of the bed instead of at the top?"

"That's not even the point."

"Well then what is the fucking point, Viv?!"

"I'm not a groupie, Nikki, I'm your wife!"

"Oh my God, you're really pussying out over a fucking joke?!"

"That was a shit thing to say, and you know it was, Nikki, although I can't say I'm surprised ever since you've started that shit you've been a bigger jackass than before!" I accuse him.

"What the fuck are you talking about?!" He yells, his pupils seemingly worse than they were before.

"Smoking your fucking heroin and snorting your coke, that's what the fuck I'm talking about!" I fly off the handle, standing on the tips of my toes to get in his face and he pushes me away from him roughly, causing me to stumble back and fall on to the floor with a loud thump.

He's about to walk away and leave, but I don't know when to leave a dead horse after I've beaten it enough.

The heel of my stiletto collides with the side of his leg roughly, opting him to groan out in pain from where I kicked him.

His hand is tightly around my ankle in two seconds, yanking me up like a cat by its scruff, all while I'm clawing at him.

I'm tossed on to the bed, his hands pinning my arms down as he gets between my legs, stopping my chance of kicking him off of me.

I don't fight back, the look in his eye actually scaring me, and I realize I took it way too far.

I don't know what the hell he's taken, but it's a lot different than how he usually is when he's fucked up.

"I'm not gonna repeat myself, Vivian. What the fuck I do, who the fuck I do it with, and when the fuck I do it, is none of your fucking business. I don't control you. You don't fucking control me. You're just embarrassing yourself, and me, when you try to." He warns me darkly, doing a complete 180 from how chipper and happy he was earlier tonight. "Got it?"

My eyes water, my lip shaking a little but I stop myself from crying to save myself the broken pride.

"Okay, Nikki." I agree, feeling guilty for hounding him about it.

He gets off of me and doesn't even give me a second glance before he leaves, slamming the door behind him.

I was pregnant, terrified, off my Nardil, and projecting all of that onto him, while he was secretly mixing heroin with coke and shooting it to balance each other out.

He'd spend however long trying to correct and tweak his method of adding more coke to correct his drowsiness and adding more heroin to calm him down...but he would usually manage to over correct each time and he wigged out or nodded off...then he would get irritable and have shitty ups and downs with his mood in a matter of minutes.

I don't know where he went when he left that night, but me and Mick were the only two that fell asleep in the room. I never bothered asking Nikki where he stayed.

I probably don't want to know.

"Viv, c'mon, we gotta get up." Mick tells me, pulling me from my shitty sleep.

I'm exhausted from not being able to sleep barely at all until I saw the faint light of the sun starting to rise through the curtains of the hotel.

I groan, yawn and stretch, sitting up.

"What time is it?" I ask him, rubbing my eyes.

"Six o'clock. We gotta be on the bus by six-thirty." He informs me, getting out of his bed, putting his stuff back in his suitcase.

I wait for the sickness to kick in, it usually does a couple minutes after I've been awake, but it hasn't yet.

I go ahead and get up, throwing on a T-shirt and shorts, packing my suitcase quickly Incase I get distracted from puking my brains out.

Reaching down to pick up my purse, I notice the bruising around my ankle where Nikki grabbed me. I’m positive he has a bruise from where my heel nearly punctured him on his leg.

"You cry like a hit dog in your sleep." Mick tells me, interrupting my thoughts, as he zips his bag and I exhale and do the same, not answering right away.

"I cry like a hit dog when I'm awake. What's new?" I mumble, stepping to the bathroom to brush my teeth.

Nikki's stuff is still all in here, so when I'm done brushing my teeth I gather his things and put them in his suitcase.

The sound of the key unlocking the door sounds, and I dart my eyes to the door, hoping to see Nikki so I can apologize for last night.

I'm sorely disappointed.

"We're ready in the lobby." Doc tells me and Mick, grabbing Nikki's suitcase from where I put it beside the door.

I nod a little and grab my stuff and Mick and I follow him out of the room to the elevator to get to the lobby.

"Is he still mad at me?" I ask Doc and he sighs.

"He doesn't like handling you like that." He tells me, disappointment in his voice as he refers to Nikki putting his hands on me last night.

"I don't like doing it to him, either." I reply and he looks at me.

"Well, then you two just need to stop while you're ahead before it gets worse." He suggests and I don't say anything else, waiting for the doors to open once we get to the first floor.

I see Nikki, Vince, and Tommy, all wearing sunglasses to avoid making their hangovers worse, and no one says anything to me, and I don't say anything to them.

"Alright, come on." Doc ushers us to the door to get to the bus.

Our bags get packed in as we file in a line to get on, and just as I'm about to step up, I'm held back by someone holding at my wrist.

I think it's Tommy or Vince, stopping me to tell me something smart-assy or funny, but it's Nikki grabbing at me to keep his balance so he doesn't fall due to his delayed reaction time.

I look down at him, and he moves his hand from my wrist to completely engulf my hand with it, and relief is a dear friend to me.

I'm forgiven.

Once we sit down, he's positioning himself to lay his head on my lap and I put my hands in his fluffy hair, taking his glasses off of him when I know he's asleep so he doesn't mess the frame up, as we head to Memphis, Tennessee for the last show of the tour.