#You know Sarah Lynn??

[batfambrainrotbeloved]

Odd question, but did Tim ever think that he should try and keep the timeline on its original path, before realizing it was almost impossible in DSB?

Like, did he have like a split second where his instincts went, "I have to make sure nothing changes" before realizing it was just impossible, because he would have to take the same steps, say the same things, and he couldn't remember every little detail.

So he just decided to try and give the Bats the happiest life he could, because he couldn't follow through with his old life.

-🎭☕

YUP!! I touched on this a little in chapter one but that was a lot of exposition and so fucking long ago

Basically he went "Oh Fuck I need to do NOTHING" but then went "My brother is suffering from malnourishment rn.... fuck timelines im grabbing some Mcnuggets and going to Crime alley"

and thats why TDSB Jason is still a big boy even if not built like a fridge

[bojackhorsemanobviously]

PRINCESS CAROLYN WHAT THE FUCK!?

[simplifiedemotions]

I finished Bojack Horseman today and I feel so conflicted about the finale. I understood why the writers went the way they did, and why Bojack was left pretty much alone to continue life and hopefully make better choices. But stepping back and seeing the whole of the show and how all these characters were part of his life, and now they’re not, and now they’ve moved on, and now Bojack is truly by himself… it hurt to watch. I was so happy to see him get that position as professor. To have him reconnect again with Hollyhock. To have those chats with a happier Diane and slowly-finding-herself Princess Carolyn. And so it hurt to watch the last few eps after that where the same open maw that had eaten and spit up Bojack several times before lick its teeth clean after another meal. The poison really does drip. And maybe it doesn’t matter that Bojack learned to be better. Maybe it will matter in the future and we just won’t be there to see it. Because he has to see it first. Maybe that’s the point.

[jassnahkholin]

facing the horrors rn (rewatched s1ep3 last night for the first time, WITH MY PARENTS after I had convinced them Bojack Horseman is one of the best shows I've ever seen)

[six-seasons-andamovie]

One of my favourite little details from Bojack is that in 'free churro', when bj is remembering his mother's dancing, it's the same music as the record is playing at the end of 'a horse walks into rehab.

The same thing can be said about Sarah Lynn. In the reprise of 'Don't stop dancing', when it changes into pop, it's the same beat used in her song 'Prickley Muffin'

[ezrazone]

in the wake of the american election, will you choose to stand with this living palestinian family?

it is a miracle that mohamed and his family have survived. thanks to your donations, they have been able to find food and reinforce their tents. they've even been able to keep their pets alive, though illness and weather conditions make their lives all the more fragile. mohamed's family needs your support right now. abdul-rahman, sarah, and lynn are all under the age of ten. their mother -- who has been able to stay alive thanks to this fundraiser allowing her to access chemotherapy injections -- is currently in a coma. her health has deteriorated rapidly since the start of the war and her children are terrified that their mother will not survive. will you give the father of these babies something to hold onto? he needs hope for escape as he plays the role of both father and mother to his family. your donations are their direct line for survival. we know that when the border crossing opens, the window may be very short for families to actually escape into egypt. it is impossible for this family to make it out of gaza alive without your donations. while the al-manasra family’s gofundme page is paused due to a technicality, can you help get money to their fundraiser organizer’s cashapp, venmo, or paypal (for donors outside the US)?

cashapp link (for americans)

venmo link (for americans - please do not indicate anything having to do with palestine in description)

paypal link (for everyone outside US - please make sure your donation is listed as “personal” and not business)

mohamed’s fundraiser is vetted #192 here! a message from mohamed's eldest, sarah: "thank you! i love you!" @save-mohamed-family

[lillaydee]

Naiveté - "911, What's Your Emergency?"

Joel Miller (AU) / F Reader

A frantic call to 911.

Inspired by @jolapeno's epistolary dear-uary challenge.

WARNINGS: Angst, Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Joel is a Fucking Idiot. Joel is a Clueless Idiot

Divider by the fabulous @saradika

@kirsteng42

WORD COUNT: 3510

MASTER LIST

2. My Pompous Sister-Cousin Ruined My Life

***I am not a doctor or anyone who works in emergency services or healthcare. Also, there might be some exaggeration to Lynn's status as a doctor. Please take any inaccuracies with a ladle of salt***

You sipped the God-knows-how-many-th cup of coffee you’ve had for the day, rubbing your neck while you were at it. The couch in your office, while extremely comfy to sit on, wasn’t exactly comfy for long-term sleeping, but you just couldn’t go home.

Eric told you Nell was still living there. She was still using your food delivery account, buying herself the fanciest meals she could get delivered, if the account history and charges were to be believed. Her car must’ve run out of gas if she hadn’t gone out at all, living the life in your perfectly decorated guest room and it’s 16-inches orthopaedic king sized mattress and 10,000 count sheets. Your bills were on autopay, so you could just see her lounging around your house doing nothing, watching all the shows available that you yourself never had the time to watch and using the wi-fi you paid for.

You, on the other hand, sulked like a spineless child and ate cafeteria food, slept and showered in your office, watching whatever soap of the day the other doctors insisted on watching in the lounge.

It’s your own fault. You shouldn’t have left, it was your house after all. But you knew if you had asked her to leave, drama would follow. And it’s your birthday. And you were supposed to celebrate it with Joel. You were looking forward to this. But of course, the words ‘other people’ did not exist in Nell’s list of vocabulary. She would just turn this whole thing around and play victim. You’ve known her all your life. You knew.

You just couldn’t anymore. Joel begged you to stay, stormed into your house after you decided to just leave. You couldn’t stay. You would kill that bitch and make it look like an accident. The smug look on her face as she turned to see your devastated one was too much. So much that even Joel’s pleas couldn’t soothe you. He was explaining everything even as you were packing, telling you she kissed him, that he didn’t kiss her back, heard the contents of the email you sent in to Aunt Prue, that he’s in love with you, only you, it’d always been you, he’s sorry he didn’t have the balls to tell you, but he had never been interested in Nell, only you. You were the only one in his mind. He was weak, he didn’t know how to say no when Nell asked for his help, when Nell asked for his company. He didn’t think she was going after him, he thought she just needed a shoulder to cry on, what with her divorce and all. “Please, Lynn, forgive me. I’m sorry, please don’t leave like this. Let’s talk, let’s go out to dinner. It’s your birthday, please, I’m begging you, please don’t go.”

You stayed calm, got your suitcase and left. Joel followed you all the way to your car, hung on to your door and kept on pleading. You only managed to shut the door when you finally told him you needed some space. Please give it to you. That’s all you asked for. He released your door then, looking defeated, nodding slowly, asking you if he could text you, just so you know he’ll never stop trying? You don’t have to reply, he said, he just needed you to know how he felt. Please?

You nodded and shut the door. You went to the hospital and hadn’t been home in three weeks.

Joel texted you every day.

Joel: ‘Good morning. Have a great day. Please take good care of yourself today.’

Joel: ‘Had lunch at the place you liked today, thinking of you.’

Joel: ‘Good night. I hope you get some rest.’

Joel: ‘Sarah made the French Toast you taught her. Reminded me of you.’

Mundane, sweet texts. You didn’t reply, but each and every one of his texts made you smile.

Sarah’s texts, on the other hand, left you no doubt that she was Team Lynn. You did reply to her but still refused to tell her where you were staying and went silent when she probed. Other than that, she’s basically Nell Watch, with the occasional Sarah question.  

SareBear: ‘That woman tried to ask me to come over for a movie. I said no. Then she asked Dad if he wants to go for a walk. Dad found his spine and shut the door in her face. So proud of him!’

SareBear: ‘Lynn, what’s an Omphalocele? I googled but they might as well have explained it in Chinese. Help!’

SareBear: ‘I made French Toast today, used your recipe. Dad ate it and cried.’

SareBear: ‘You should change your password to that app – she just ordered steak.’

SareBear: ‘She just sat in front of our house for hours waiting for Dad to come home. Turned on the waterworks when he got here. He came inside and shut the door. She stayed there until midnight. God I hope she didn’t pee herself on our porch. I don’t want to scrub that.’

SareBear: ‘OMG she just posted on that Dot site. She completely changed the story. Imma call her out.’

SareBear: ‘People are bashing her. This is a good day.’

SareBear: ‘Lynn, people I’ve never met are asking for Dad’s phone number. You should come back soon before I cave and give it to them.’

You laughed out loud at that last one.

SareBear: ‘Hey Lynn, will you come to dinner with us tonight? Uncle Tommy and Aunt Maria are in town. Dad is taking a long weekend, we’re getting him cake. Aunt Maria and I are going to have a girls day Saturday, will you join us, please?’

You wanted to say yes. You so badly wanted to say yes.

You missed her. You missed him. You missed them together. But there were demons in your head fighting each other. One told you to go home and kick Nell out. The other though… that one, in your opinion the eviller of the two, reminded you of the times she hugged you as you slept when you missed your parents those first few weeks you moved in with her. The time you two made camp under the blanket, telling each other scary stories and snuggled together so the ghosts couldn’t get to you. The time both of you slept under the bed because you were terrified of thunderstorms. The time she pushed your bullies back, defended you from the mean kids at school. Before she started secretly hating you.

And of course, there was the fact that her parents were your parents, for all intents and purposes. They were the ones who raised and supported you, cheered you on. The ones who literally blocked their own daughter for the way she treated you and Eric. Nell didn’t even tell them she filed for divorce. And you, being the usual ‘not wanting her to get in trouble’ type, never told them. Eric did, apparently, and now she’s in the doghouse with almost everyone in her life. She had nothing, and you didn’t have the heart to turn her away. Or maybe, you were just that naïve. Even after all these years.

You wanted to go back to Joel. He told you he was in love with you. What you wouldn’t do to tell him you loved him too, but Nell was still around. You didn’t even want to think of what she was willing to do if you and Joel actually got together now.

So instead of replying to Sarah, you texted Joel.

You: ‘Happy 36th neighbour. Hope you have a great one today.’

Your phone pinged less than a minute later.

Joel: ‘I miss you.’

You stared at those three words, your eyes prickling with tears, as the three dots kept dotting underneath it.

Joel: ‘Sorry, I know I agreed to give you space. But I couldn’t keep it in anymore. I had to tell you. I can’t wait for you to come home. I miss seeing you laugh, hearing your voice, seeing your face, the way you scrunch your face when you ignore the movie to pick the popcorns with the most caramel on it, the way you save the pickles off your burger for last, the way you separate the M&Ms by colour… I miss that, even if it means I have to wait ages to have an M&M, but I miss everything about you. I miss you. Please come back soon.’

You read that message over and over and over. Fuck, you missed him. You wanted to go home. How can you get Nell out? Maybe you can ask Head Nurse Marcy. Her husband was a cop. Maybe you could arrange something? You lost track of how long you sat there, just reading that text over and over, desperately missing him too.

The phone beeped, the pager beep. The one you set for the hospital. You immediately clicked on it.

‘Incoming. ER. 15F. PAT. AmbBay 2’

You got on your feet and ran towards the ER. 15 year old girl. Penetrating abdominal trauma. God, she’s Sarah’s age. No matter how long you’ve been doing this job, children getting injured from such incidents never failed to shock you. Who would stab children?

The nurses gowned and gloved you, and you waited with the trauma team at Ambulance Bay 2, the siren already coming in fast. You were front and centre when the door opened.

And a frantic, teary Joel greeted you, but he didn’t see you. He didn’t see anyone but the patient whose hand he was holding. Your eyes went straight to the gurney and your heart dropped to your feet.

Sarah.

You had never reacted faster in your life. Anything outside of Sarah was a blur to you. You worked with the other doctors and nurses, stabilizing her, only realizing Joel was standing alone outside the trauma room when she was being wheeled out to the OT. He looked like a lost boy, a lone figure in a busy ER, covered in his daughter’s blood, his eyes glassy as if he was in a trance.

This was no time for soft hearts and yearning.

“Joel!” you called him, speaking as loud as you can without screaming. His eyes immediately snapped towards you, looking as if he had just realized you had been there the whole time. You beckoned him with your head, telling the nurses he’s with you. His feet immediately followed, a sliver of hope filling his eyes. You updated him of Sarah’s condition as best as you could, telling him she needed surgery, and that someone will update him every hour. He could only nod, words failed him, only able to tell Sarah he will be right there waiting for her.

“Lynn,” he said, his voice soft, pleading.

You looked at him.

“Take care of my little girl. Bring her back to me. Please,” the last word whispered.

You wanted so much to hug him, give him assurance. But you knew you shouldn’t. So you turned away from him and told your intern to call your assistant to help him get a change of clothes and something to eat before going in to prepare for the surgery.

Joel sat in the waiting room with his head in his hands. The whole evening had been surreal. He had gotten home early, picked up Tommy and Maria from the airport, the couple insisting they fly in for his birthday, they were going to dinner that evening, maybe have a cookout that weekend if the weather was not too cold, Maria and Sarah excited to spend some girlie time together. Sarah had been wondering out loud if you might join them, seeing as it was his birthday, maybe you would come back today? He wanted to kick himself, thinking about how you might have been there to celebrate his birthday with him for the first time as his girlfriend had he not been too stupid to see how manipulative Nell was.

He had screamed at her that evening. He couldn’t believe the gall of that woman. He couldn’t get the smug look she had on her face out of his head – she had literally sneered at you as you backed out of your driveway, sidling up to him as he walked back to his front door, ready to receive an earful from a very shocked Sarah who was standing helplessly in front of it. Nell dared wrap her arm around his, and he lost it on her. His chest hurt from screaming so much, his throat raw, telling Nell there was no way in hell or any such universe he would ever consider being with her. Her face went chalk white, devoid of any blood, before it went beet red just as quickly, asking him why he wanted you so badly? What was it that you had that she didn’t. What was so special about you? You were nowhere near as attractive as she was.

Nell was fuming, thinking about all those men she thought she had won over – none of them wanted to stay with her, losing interest the moment sex was over. That was all she did really, offered them sex. You didn’t, the prude that you were. You believed in that stupid connection thing. As if. Men are not that complicated. Offer them sex and they will cave. There was no way any of them would have really gone for you, right? You didn’t stand a chance. And yet, here Joel stood, red in the face, telling her to stay away from him.

“Because, Nell, on your best day, you are not even a tenth of the woman that she is.”

He went inside and threw himself onto his couch, rubbing his face, his heart beating uncomfortably fast. He opened his eyes when he heard the door click shut. Sarah was standing over him, arms crossed, looking impressed.

“Wow,” she said, “You can stand up for yourself.” She sat down next to him, snuggling him. “You okay, Dad?”

He hugged her with all his might, nodding, feeling as if he had let her down. The teenager took it upon herself to cheer him up, and made him some boxed mac and cheese, chewing with her mouth open to make him laugh. She even watched some kung fu movie he had always wanted to watch, falling asleep somewhere near the 15 minutes mark.

He didn’t know what he had done in his past life to deserve a daughter like her. Somehow, he managed to breeze by these 15 years pretending to be a parent, when really, it was her who had been taking care of him. She told him that Nell posted on some online forum, telling people that she and him were a secret couple, painting you as the baddie who had always taken everything from her. She had been googling silly medical stuff to ask you about, just so you would reply to her, and then reading them to him, just so he could have a piece of something that was from you, just so that he could smile. She read your witty replies, making him laugh, sleeping easier that night simply from the thought that he heard a joke from you that day. She made him that French Toast you taught her to make, going so far as using the spare key to your place to steal some of that good vanilla you used whenever you made them.

He burst into tears upon taking the first bite, missing you so much, regretting his naivety so much he couldn’t breathe. And what did his little girl do? She sat with him and cut the toast into small pieces, feeding them to him, telling him they won’t taste as good when they went cold.

He had just finished a load of laundry when he received the birthday text from you, his heart soaring. He couldn’t help himself. He texted you back, his fingers shockingly efficient, telling you how much he missed you. He had just clicked ‘send’ when he heard raised voices outside.

Sarah had been getting into gardening lately and was trying to do as much of it while the weather was still alright. He peeked through the window to see Nell shouting at her, something about a comment she made on her post, how Sarah had openly humiliated her, blaming her for the fact that she had been cut off from everyone. Sarah wouldn’t back down, and Joel could see Nell was getting more and more agitated. Joel turned to put a shirt on when he heard a scuffle, immediately yelling for Tommy to come downstairs. By the time he got to Sarah, his BabyGirl was already down, blood blooming on her shirt, the three pronged thing next to her, covered in blood. Nell was gunning it down the street, Tommy chasing her, along with some neighbours who saw the whole thing take place. Joel immediately dialled 911, falling down on his knees trying to calm his daughter down, his heart beating in his mouth.

The minutes crawled by. Tommy and Maria arrived not long after she was wheeled into surgery, bringing him his clothes and whatever would help from home. Your assistant, a sweet young man called Tony brought him food, making sure he was alright, even waited for news from you with him, sitting at one corner of the room with his iPad, managing your schedule, not that he could eat right now. His insides were churning, his eyes leaking. Your young intern, the one who brought him to your private office so he could shower and change, had been coming to him every hour with updates, telling him how Sarah was doing, not that it was helping. All he longed for was to see you come out with a smile on your face, telling him that his BabyGirl was going to be alright, that he didn’t have to arrange for a… that Sarah, his BabyGirl, was alive, and would stay alive. Please.

He told the cops what he knew, Tommy filling in every now and again. His head wasn’t working. He couldn’t concentrate. Sarah. She was all he could think about.

About six hours in, Tommy and Maria suddenly stood up, as did Tony, placing his iPad on the coffee table in front of him. Joel found himself frozen as he watched a tired looking you stand just outside of the double glass doors, talking to another doctor, looking at something on the tablet he was holding. He couldn’t stand up. His mind was trying to decipher your expressions, were you sad? Happy? Nonchalant? What?

His heart almost stopped when he saw a frown on your face as you talked to the doctor, looking worried as you explained something to him. It stopped completely when the doctor’s hopeful expression turned dour, slowly nodding, as you patted him on his arm and walked inside, that same sad expression on your face. Your eyes went immediately to Tony’s, who looked rather sad now, too.

Oh God. No. No. No.

You took a deep breath, and turned to him, looking straight into his eyes.

You smiled.

Joel burst into tears, his shoulders heaving from his sobs, relieved to see that smile. You immediately went to him, kneeling in front of him, hugging him so tightly, whispering to him.

“Surgery went well, she’s still in recovery, but she’s responding very well. Tony’s gonna take you to her room, okay? You’ll be more comfortable there. Barring any complications, she’ll be back home and bossing you around in no time at all.”

Joel’s sobs turned into laughter, nodding his head, loosening the hug a bit to thank you before engulfing you in a bigger, tighter one, thank yous falling from his lips over and over. He didn’t let go all the way until his sobs calmed down.

Tony cleared his throat.

“Joel,” you whispered, as you felt his hug relaxed, but showing no signs of release.

“Hmm?” he answered, somehow managing to do so in a whisper too.

“I just spent 6 hours standing, the kneeling is killing my knees and my back. Can I go back to standing now?”

He laughed, letting you go, standing up and helping you stand. You stretched your back and repeated what you told him to a very confused Maria and Tommy, giving them hugs as well.

“Tony’s gonna take you to her room now, they’ll bring her in soon. I have to go see to another patient, but I will come and check on Sarah in a bit okay?”

Joel watched as you walked out. His heart felt 1000 times lighter. His BabyGirl was going to be alright, she made it through surgery. And he just saw you again and hugged you for so long he felt as if all the essence that left his body as he watched you drive away that night, the rest of which got sucked out as he watched his daughter almost bleed to death today, came whooshing back into his body.

He could breathe again.

Joel woke up in the semi darkened room. You were just about to walk away, having placed a blanket over his body. You stopped when you felt his hand around your wrist.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“What time is it?”

“It’s 4 am.”

“Why aren’t you asleep?”

“I’m on call.”

He sat up, rubbing his eyes, looking up at you. He patted the seat next to him, eyes begging you to sit down.

“How is she doing?”

“We’re very optimistic. All the numbers are where it should be. She’s stable. We just need to watch her for a few days.”

“Thank you for saving her.”

“I’m just one person. A whole team of us was in there.”

“Still, thank you.”

You smiled.

“I miss seeing you smile.”

You took his hand in yours, intending to soothe him. He let you, lacing his fingers with yours.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so dumb. I just didn’t see what she was doing.”

You huffed a small laugh, “No man has.”

He didn’t say anything, regret clear on his features. “She’s still out there.”

“They’ll get her. She’s never been street savvy. She might surrender just because she’s hungry.”

He let out a laugh, forgetting to whisper, before shushing himself. He caressed your hand with his thumb.

“Did you mean what you said?” you warily asked.

“Which of my grovelling these past three weeks are you referring to?”

You giggled, which caused him to giggle, the two of you giddy like high school girls for quite a while before you finally managed to say something.

“That thing you said that night, when I was packing.” You didn’t want to say it. You didn’t want to hope. What if it was just something he said out of desperation? Out of panic?

“That I’m in love with you?”

You nodded, not looking him in the eyes. He lifted your face with his fingers, gentle, subtle. “Look at me, Lynn,” he whispered. He waited until your eyes met his before speaking.

“Yes. I meant every word. I’m in love with you, Dr Ava Lynn Williams, I’ve been in love with you since the moment I saw you.”

You scrunched your face in disgust. “That day you moved in? I hadn’t showered or slept in 36 hours, I must’ve looked like a zombie. Smelled like one too.”

He smiled, “The sexiest, most beautiful zombie in the world. I almost dropped Sarah’s fish. I would’ve been in a lot of trouble had that happened.”

You raised your eyebrows in agreement. He smiled, nodding with you.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He shrugged, “Look at you. Your office is bigger than my first house. You have little doctors running around doing your bidding, you have a personal assistant, who, by the way, treated my so well today I might as well be the CEO or something. I offhandedly mentioned coffee to Tommy and it was hand delivered to me within minutes.”

You laughed, “I’ll make sure he gets a raise then.”

He smiled, “You’re a kick-ass surgeon. I’m a contractor. Sarah’s Mom left us because I couldn’t give her the fancy life she wanted. I didn’t know if you would even look twice at someone like me.”

He hung his head, playing with your hand.

“Someone like you? Someone kind? Funny? Reliable? A great father? A good friend? A great listener? Which of these great qualities are you referring too? And why would someone like you want someone like me? I’m always working. I’m never home. Although, to be honest, I’m working so much more than I need to be because I don’t like coming home to an empty house.”

It’s your turn to hang your head, playing with his hand.

“They say absence makes the heart grow fonder. This past year, I’ve missed you every time you were not home. I’m in love with you. I’ll wait for you at home every day for the rest of my life, if you give me a chance.”

You were quiet for a beat, the longest beat in the world for him, his ears filled with the beating of his own heart.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

His heart soared. His smiled so widely his ears hurt. He leaned in, taking your chin between his fingers, his eyes closing.

You beeper went off.

‘Code Blue. 1403.’

“I have to go,” you said, jumping up, giving him a quick peck on the cheek before running out, joining the line of running nurses outside Sarah’s room.

“You’re gonna have to get used to that now that you guys are dating,” Sarah’s voice interrupted his high from your acceptance of his love. He jumped up, eager to give his daughter a careful hug.

His world felt complete.

Nell was arrested early the next day. She never left the neighbourhood, apparently, coming back home after spending the night in someone’s garage. She put up quite a fight, causing a racket, screaming that her heart surgeon doctor husband was going to sue the police department and everyone who commented on the post she made. Word was, there were footage of that going around the internet.

She was denied bail and was expected to spend a considerable amount of her life behind bars. As far as you knew, no one went to visit her, save for her parents, who came out disappointed. She spent the entire time they were there blaming them for everything that went wrong in her life.

Sarah went home seven days later, the whole neighbourhood there to welcome her home. You spent the entirety of her hospital stay at the hospital, sending in a cleaning crew to your house after seeing the state Nell left it in after living there without your presence for three weeks. After Sarah was settled in for the night, you helped them clean up and took your leave. Joel walked you home, hands in his pocket as you unlocked your front door with your new set of keys. He leaned in and kissed you on the cheek, the standard practice thus far, seeing as you were literally at work since accepting his proposal at being a couple.

Except this time you were no longer at work.

So you turned your head and captured his lips, earning you a desperate whimper from him, his hands quickly coming up to cup your face. Your lips parted in pleasant surprise, and he took advantage of that, slipping his tongue against yours. Your head was buzzing, your body alight, a helpless moan escaping you as he gently pushed you against your front door, the kiss turning heated in no time.

“It’s okay guys, Uncle Tommy and Aunt Maria’s got me,” Sarah’s voice cheekily broke the silence of the night from her bedroom window.

“Yep, don’t worry brother, I’m going to lock up now,” Tommy answered.

And with that, your hand grabbed blindly behind you, desperately finding the door knob as his kisses travelled from your lips to your jaw, sucking your earlobe, his hands slipping under your shirt to grab your waist, lifting you into his arms as the door opened, carrying you inside, kicking the door closed behind him.

FIN.

[imanes]

Can you post screenshots of the author thread for people who don't have twitter

sorry i started doing that yesterday and then promptly forgot to post them x_x i wouldn't recommend most of these authors anyway since their books are shit

i don't even know if that's all of them bc i got a bunch of error messages but yeah notable ones: pierce brown (red rising saga LOL), taylor jenkins reid (her books are NOT good stop deluding yourself people!), a bunch of booktok word writers cuz they sure know how to align the words but they fail at making them actually sound interesting, idek who else. gabrielle zevin is one that has an Israeli characters who says some questionable shit but idk if i'd go so far as to say that it's outright support for Israel for example. the screenshots on alice oseman are from 2015 i hope she pulled her head out of her ass in the meantime but who knows. i see the sarah janet maas screenshot didn't make the list but she was like yay IDF a few years ago and depicted Israel kind of like this magical beautiful place (and not the settler colony that it is), same for rachel lynn solomon. I'll go back to my original post tomorrow and then list all the names that were shared in the thread on twitter

[duckprintspress]

Celebrate J.R.R. Tolkien’s Birthday with 54 Queer Fantasy Books!

Today, January 3rd, is J.R.R. Tolkien Day—the day we celebrate the legend’s birthday. It’s hard to imagine the fantasy genre without Tolkien’s influence on it. That’s why, we figured, what better way to celebrate than by having an adventure with an awesome fantasy book? And, as this is the first time we’ve done a queer fantasy rec list, our reccing crew got very excited, with the result that this is one of the longest lists we’ve ever posted. We asked our contributors for great queer, fantasy recommendations, and boy, did they deliver! We collected a list of whooping 54 titles, all thanks to Sanne, Kelas, Shadaras, Nina Waters, Shea Sullivan, E. C., Adrian Harley, Alex, D. V. Morse, Zel Howland, Shannon, Dei Walker, Linnea Peterson and an anonymous contributor.

Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu

Fire Logic by Laurie J. Marks

The Order of the Pure Moon Reflected in Water by Zen Cho

The Black Tides of Heaven by Neon Yang

The Angel of the Crows by Katherine Addison

The Witch King by H.E. Edgmon

Legendborn by Tracy Deonn

Witch King by Martha Wells

The Raven Boys by Maggie Stiefvater

Heaven Official’s Blessing by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu

The Witness for the Dead by Katherine Addison

The Husky & His White Cat Shizun by Rou Bao Bu Chi Rou

Swordspoint by Ellen Kushner

Devil Venerable Also Wants To Know by Cyan Wings

Ruin of Angels by Max Gladstone

The Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon

A Strange and Stubborn Endurance by Foz Meadows

Call Down the Hawk by Maggie Stiefvater

Someone You Can Build a Nest In by John Wiswell

Ash by Malinda Lo

Shubeik Lubeik by Deena Mohamed

The Watchmaker of Filigree Street by Natasha Pulley

Rust in the Root by Justina Ireland

A Marvellous Light by Freya Marske

A Master of Djinn by P. Djèlí Clark

When the Angels Left the Old Country by Sacha Lamb

The Monsters We Defy by Leslye Penelope

The Starless Sea by Erin Morgenstern

Little Thieves by Margaret Owen

Siren Queen by Nghi Vo

The Spear Cuts Through Water by Simon Jimenez

The Ruthless Lady’s Guide to Wizardry by C.M. Waggoner

Reforged by Seth Haddon

The Traitor Baru Cormorant by Seth Dickinson

Luck in the Shadows by Lynn Flewelling

The Bone Doll’s Twin by Lynn Flewelling

Umineko: When They Cry by 07th Expansion

The Will of the Empress by Tamora Pierce

Witchmark by C.L. Polk

Lord of Eternal Night by Ben Alderson

These Witches Don’t Burn by Isabel Sterling

The Brilliant Death by A.R. Capetta

Consort of Fire by Kit Rocha

First Test by Tamora Pierce

Can’t Spell Treason Without Tea by Rebecca Thorne

The Thief by Megan Whalen Turner

Hench by Natalie Zina Walschots

The Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue by Mackenzi Lee

Carry On by Rainbow Rowell

Weak Heart by Ban Gilmartin

The Shepherd’s Crown by Terry Pratchett

Six Of Crows by Leigh Bardugo

Monstrous Regiment by Terry Pratchett

The Demon’s Lexicon by Sarah Rees Brennan

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[irishironclad]

Walking As Somebody Else

Some place in Tennessee that had no name nor number to describe it there sat a rusted mobile home that some folk might assume abandoned or housing squatters. It if weren’t for the relatively new truck that was parked next to it. 

It was summer, the small AC unit dripped moisture and rattled in its struggle to warm the space that was too large for it. Vincent kept a clean home, any time there was a mess he felt an unnatural fear that someone would appear to scream at him about it. 

There were no pictures, no personal belongings unpacked, with everything away in luggage or small chests.  The cupboards held one plate, one bowl, one mug, and there was one set of silverware. 

Vincent sat in an old leather chair that he didn’t remember ever buying yet was wrinkled with his shape. He stared at a television he hardly ever bothered to turn on. While nursing a glass of Chattanooga 1816 Reserve paired with one of his cigarillos. Smoothing back his sandy blond hair he sighed and paid attention to his breathing and heart rate - listening for any abnormalities. There was no reason for an incident to happen now, but he worried about it constantly. There was no one he could call if it happened again. 

Today was the day he did it, the day he tainted his hands. He remembered trailing ash into the recruitment office, they didn’t question him none. More meat, another body. Vincent had hoped to die over there in the desert, but the Devil had other plans for him. So when they rotated him out, citing his ‘heart condition’ as why he couldn’t go back - he returned to nothing. 

The recession didn’t touch those who hadn't nothing to lose. Whatever Vincent had inherited from his daddy was left to ashes, and as far as the banks were concerned he died in those flames too. They weren’t too concerned to look, so he only needed to move to the other side of the state and no one thought much of it. 

So one bothered him, except for the lady who kept knocking on his door. See he’d made the mistake of getting involved, he realized soon enough that if he sat around doing nothing for nobody then soon enough he’d find himself eyeing the barrel of a gun. So he’d found himself working as a bounty hunter, as well as getting a P.I license. Helping out the local boys with a case here or there. Was even a sheriff’s deputy for a while. All that fell apart, it didn’t take long for them to get a whiff of who he truly was. No lawman. No protector. The stink of blood remained no matter what title he had. 

The woman at his door didn’t seem to get the message. Sarah-Lynn James had been calling on him a few times now. Vincent sighed and put down his drink, taking a moment to smooth his shirt and look presentable before opening the door. There stood a single mother, worn and tired, with gray streaking her once vibrantly red hair she now stood teary eyed with a freshly made casserole at his doorstep. 

“Mister Valério, I made you-” 

“Mrs James, that's very kind of you but I have to direct you to the sheriff again, I know you’re hurtin’ but I’m a bail bondsman not the police,” Vincent said calmly. 

“I know you’ve found people before who ain’t out on bail,” Mrs James said, her voice quivering, she shoved the casserole into Vincent’s arms and he had no real choice but to take it. It was still warm and smelled like it was chicken. 

“Mrs James those were criminals and known fugitives, missing children ain’t really-” 

“Her name is Jane, she just turned twenty, a tiny thing she never ate right. She’s allergic to shellfish and has a beauty mark on her right cheek,” Mrs James produced a polaroid of her daughter, she looked like a younger version of her mother. With all the life and energy of youth. Vincent’s chest tightened. 

“Ma’am the sheriff’s department…”

“Won’t lift a finger, says she’s an adult, she only just turned eighteen! And she’s never been one to leave like this!” 

He wanted to help, but there were complications. It was outside of his licensing, even if he was a former sheriff’s deputy this was stepping out of the line. Vincent had been careful, folk were out looking for people like him. It had been on the news more and more, and putting himself into harm's way - it only invited exposing himself. And really, what right had he to do good? That wasn’t he. He found bad people, not good ones. It was a different sort of hunt. 

“Mrs James…” he started. He had a hundred reasons he could give, but when he caught her gaze they died in his throat. Mrs James brown eyes were red and puffy and lined but they were the same as her daughters. Vincent saw they had the same laughter and joy in them, or they did. 

“Thank you for the casserole…” Vincent sighed. “Maybe… I’ll come by later, look at her room, see if I can’t find a lead.” 

“That's all I ask, thank you, thank you so much.” 

She left blissfully quickly and Vincent was able to close his door and place the casserole down with a sigh. He could humour her, head over, take a look, and tell her that there’s no way to find her daughter. That would be the smart thing to do. That would keep him safe. Even if the look in that mothers eyes struck at his heart. 

He got away with how things were, deputies turning a blind eye, using a false name. But this was real detective stuff… it would draw attention. Yet, the feeling in his chest wouldn’t go away. If he couldn’t do this then why was he…

Vincent shook his head and stood up. Stuffed into a corner was a footlocker, hidden under stacks of files and old paperwork. Vincent cleared off the mess and opened the footlocker, inside were more notes and some leather bound journals. Layed on top was a chain with dog tags hung from it. Vincent barely nudged them with his finger before he felt a nauseous anger boiling in his throat and he snapped the footlocker closed. He rubbed his eyes and chewed his lip, unsure what to do, yet unable to ignore the nagging need that urged him on. 

What use are you if you don’t? 

He could just keep it quiet and not bother anyone. 

You have sins to repay. 

Vincent clutched his hands into fists. He could almost feel it, the prickling stabbing sensation that he had run from. Would he need to do it again? 

Freaks like you don't deserve to be alive if you don’t do nothin’ for nobody. 

Vincent avoided phones these days, but he had a burner that he kept around just in case. Dialing a familiar number he got an answer with only a few rings.

“Deputy Jones speaking.”

“Hey Jim, it’s Vince.”

“...hey man, you doing alright?” 

“Yeah, could you do me a favour? Wondering if you know-” 

“-Vince… the boss has been wanting to talk to you, something about a case, this one has the feds involved.” 

“...what’re they saying?” Vincent asked carefully. 

“You’re not a suspect but they just wanna talk, I don’t know the details.” 

“Right, well, can you tell me anything about the Jane James case.” 

“Jane James… Vince, did you hear what I said?”

“Yeah, the case?” 

“It isn’t one, she’s an adult and ain’t been gone a day, why’re you asking about this?”

“Thanks Jim,” Vincent said, hanging up immediately. He snapped the phone in half and tossed it in the trash. 

Feds weren't a good sign, but he’d always known they’d sniff him out eventually. Most of the boys had some inkling, but he was useful enough they didn’t care. Some of them even understood, others wished they could have done the same. But they didn’t know for sure, they didn’t know the details. 

How long could he remain in hibernation? Not long, not if the feds were here. Vincent considered the casserole on his table. If he was going to be found out anyhow then what was the harm? That was the cold logic he gave himself, in truth the way Jim had dismissed the case all together. That didn’t sit right. 

He took the time to shower and shave, considering his jawline in the mirror Vincent decided to keep his mustache. He felt it made him look professional; as well as making his face look a tad different. He carefully combed his hair, cleansed his face, moisturized, and applied his favourite cologne; citrus and vanilla bean. He didn’t do all this to impress, it was like a cleansing ritual, attempting to wash off the taint from himself. Apply enough perfume and you couldn’t smell the stink of blood. 

He pulled on his boots and an old denim jacket and left, deciding to take his 1992 Harley Daytona for the short trip. It usually lived concealed under a tarp behind the trailer home, but some part of Vincent figured it may be a while yet before he could ride it again.

Mrs James lived on the outskirts of Nashville in a small little home on a hill apart from the other houses. The grass hadn’t been cut in a long while, and the house desperately needed a coat of paint.  Mrs James welcomed Vincent in with offers of sweet tea and more food which Vincent politely declined. 

Jane’s room was on the second floor, it had a window but a sheer drop below it. The room was no less messy than one would expect from a young woman. Though the drawers and closet had been left ajar from what looked like her quickly packing clothes. 

You picked up a few things tracking people, and Vincent had learned the easiest way for folk to go missing is when they go missing by choice. 

“You say she’s disappeared before?” he asked. 

“Yes,” Mrs James said. “But never this long, and not like this, she's never packed before or stayed out more than a night.”

“Did you let her go out like that?” Vincent asked. As much as he hated to think it, there was always a possibility Jane was running for a reason. 

“I didn’t approve but I knew she was young and… I should have been more strict, I shouldn’t have let her go out, stupid, but I didn’t want to bar her like some animal.” 

The tone was sincere, if Mrs James was the issue she would have blamed her daughter. Vincent carefully stepped around the room, looking for anything out of place. If she didn’t run away, then she may have been running to something. A boyfriend? 

“She never dated,” was mom’s answer. 

Could’ve been a secret boyfriend, maybe, but mom said she never dated not that she wasn’t allowed to date. Hiding a boyfriend usually came after the first boyfriend who mom didn’t like. 

“Friends?”

“Yeah, I mean, a few, sometimes and she’s gone out with them but never any real close friend you know? I worried sometimes about that, you need folk you can rely on.”

Vincent was entirely sure mom wasn’t to blame at this point. Sounded line Jane struggled to really connect with folk, but maybe she wanted to. Maybe that was what this was all about. On the veranda there were pictures of Jane, with friends, never the same ones. Always with her seemingly with a group, never just her and one other friend. Always tacked on, an addition, an afterthought. 

You’re sure you’re talking about Jane? 

No computer in the house, so if there was someone tempting Jane out of her home it was done in person. Vincent found no letters, no notes, not even a diary or day planner. He was beginning to understand why the sheriff’s department didn’t want to touch this. Still something smelt off, twinged the hairs on the back of Vincent's head. 

Back in the desert he’d grown this awareness for things, a look here, a movement there, one rock out of place. Helped with keeping the boys from being shot when no one was looking. Helped even more shooting the other boys when they thought you couldn’t see. You never did stop looking for targets in the sand, even when there wasn’t any sand. 

There was a trash bin though, and inside of it Vincent found a few wrappers and random bits of discarded paper. But then there was a ticket, fairly new, punched. On it read ‘Visions - Bar and Dance.�� Vincent thought for a moment and was fairly sure that wasn’t anywhere in Tennessee. 

“Cincinnati,” Mrs James said. “She’s been to that one before that… that was the only time I ever got mad at her for going out… I didn’t want her crossing state lines Oh God did I push her-” 

“Ma’am I've seen cases with runaways before,” Vincent said. “A lot of them parents gave their kids a lot of reasons to run away and it took years before they did, I don’t think this is your fault.”

“I’m just… I just want her back safe.” 

“I’ll… do what I can, ma’am,” it felt odd. To hunt down something lost, something wanted. Then to hunt what no one wanted anymore. 

Mrs James attempted to force money into his hands again, but he wouldn’t take it. Not this time. Not anymore. He left her with a promise. Hell or highwater he’d bring her girl back. 

Vincent returned to his trailer, his breath caught in his throat when he approached the footlocker again. He swallowed and opened it, pushing aside the dog tags and the papers to find a wooden box buried underneath. He retrieved it and quickly sealed the footlocker and its memories back up. 

The box contained a gift. A browning hi-power handgun, the grip was mahogany and the steel blues with silver engravings encroaching up the sides. The word’s “Be Not Afraid” written on the slide. It was polished and clean, never fired. Vincent pressed the cold metal of the slide to his lips. He didn’t need the gun, he knew this, but it allowed him to pretend. 

He retrieved a magazine and loaded the weapon with a click of the slide and the hammer. He stuffed the weapon into his waistband and hid extra magazines inside of his jacket. There wasn’t much else to take, none of it he needed, and none of it he’d be able to keep once he was caught up to. Better to travel light. 

On his way out Vincent gave the trailer a pat on its siding as a goodbye, and he did the same for his bike. As much as he wanted to take it out with him it just wasn’t practical. So he got into his brown 2001 Ford Ranger and set off without so much as a look back at what had been his home for the better part of three years. 

It was a five hour drive to Cincinnati. Vincent drove hard to the Kentucky border, he didn’t know how long before a warrant would be put out for him. But he was sure whatever courtesy he’d gained with the sheriff wouldn’t hold off the feds forever.  

He stopped at a twenty-four hour diner just across the state border, the sun having cast itself into the west with an explosion of orange light. Vincent sat down and ordered coffee along with steak and eggs. No one paid him any mind. The radio softly cut through the din of the various truckers in the diner eating and taking a rest. It cut between country blues and Elvis, and Vincent allowed himself to relax. 

The last song slowly faded away and a voice replaced it. 

“Thank you for listening to 181.6 FM, your voice on the road. I’m Jared Culsinger, and I have here with me Bobby Kinney, he’s the founder of the Preservationist Foundation here to talk about the latest reports of so-called Metahumans appearing across the United States, thanks for being here Bob.” 

Vincent froze, mid sip of his coffee, and resisted the urge to spit it out. He could physically feel the palpations of his heart pulsing through his body like ripples in a lake. 

“No problem Jared, thanks for having me.”

“Now as it stands the federal government as well as any of the states have refused to comment on the existence of these Metas, so what can you say to people at home that’re skeptical?” 

“Well Jared all you have to do is pay attention, multiple medical experts have stated on the record about these cases, we saw just in the news a few weeks ago a young girl burned her way through a concrete wall, these people are out there whether the government wants to admit it or not.” 

“And to the people at home should they be concerned at all?” 

“They should but I don’t want to fearmonger. Metahumans are people, they just have a condition, they’re scared and they often don’t know how to control what's happening to them. It’s in their best interest as well as the public’s that they be identified and given the help they need.” 

Vincent let nothing show on his face or in his actions. He calmly glanced around and it didn’t look like anyone was paying any attention to the radio. He wasn’t even sure what he’d do if he were to be found out; though it was ridiculous enough that anyone could tell what he was. 

“So Bob, how would the folk at home be able to tell one of these Metahumans from someone normal?”

“It can be hard, but a few things to look out for. There’s the obvious like them doing things that a human shouldn’t be able to do, feats of strength, injuries that would kill someone else. But what we’ve found is that they can never hide what they are from friends and family, so we find so many of them homeless or drifting. So I’d say give a close eye to anyone who seems to be wandering into town for no good reason, doesn’t seem to have any connections to anyone else, they give vague details about where they’re from. That sort of thing.” 

Vincent decided to keep on driving through the night. Only stopping once to catch an hour of two or sleep on a back road off the highway. He made it to Cincinnati by early morning. 

The whole place was a mess of office buildings and construction. Vincent never liked cities, but they were good places to disappear into. And harder places to find someone. Whole place smelt of piss, Vincent sneezed. 

He drove around a bit, getting a feeling for the area. It didn’t take long for him to wander downtown and soon the streets were lined with bars and clubs. The neon lights flickered brightly even in the brightening light of the morning. He didn’t see anywhere labeled ‘Visions’. 

Vincent figured that if Jane were here to go clubbing she would have gotten a room nearby so she wouldn’t have to walk far. He began driving in ever larger circles around the block until he found a hotel which matched the seedy tone this part of the city had. 

The receptionist was a lovely middle aged woman who looked Vincent up and down while dragging on a cigarette. Vincent recognized the look, and he wasn’t above using it to his advantage. 

“Hello, darlin’” he said, laying on the accent a tad smoother and thicker than he would naturally. “Hopin’ to stay a night or two.” 

“Absolutely,” she said, batting her eyelashes. “Visiting someone?”

“No one special,” it was a practiced dance, something he’d picked up over the years. “Know any good places to get a drink around here?” 

“Depends what you’re drinking,” she said. “What're your tastes, hon?”  

Men. 

“I like to try new things,” Vincent drawled. “Heard there’s a spot nearby, Visions?”

“Oh that's definitely new, all sorts go there, I’ve been there a few times,” the receptionist leaned on her hand. “Maybe I could take you?”

“Why don’t you sell me where it is, sugar, and I’ll meet you there tonight.” 

“It’s a date,” she said, and she scribbled an address and her number on a scrap of paper. “Still needing that room, hon?” 

“Something tells me I’ll find a place to stay tonight,” Vincent said with a wink, and the receptionist blushed violently. Vincent sauntered out, he memorized the address she had written down and then tossed the paper without even glancing at her number. In fact he hadn’t even looked at her name tag. 

The false face had come easily, the smile practiced, the look in his eyes, the way eh drawed out his vowels. No one taught him this, it was a natural thing. Different face, a different name. Alway walking as somebody else. 

Evening came soon enough, and with the neon signs illuminating the dimming streets Vincent. As he walked the streets he realized he felt elated, a smile growing on his face without his consent. The trail, the hunt, the chase, the searching. He missed these things, it felt right, it felt like him. 

Once he noticed it, instinctually he tried to push the feeling down out of reflex. Scared of what it meant, of why he felt this way. Forcing himself to remember his first hunt, his first kill. Acid scorched Vincent’s throat. By the time he found the club Vincent was frowning again. 

He watched as people lined up outside to get in. It was only half your average club crowd, frat boys and girls dressed in too little for the cold. But the other half was interesting, suits, all older, all were able to skip the main line and enter right away. 

Some of the suits the bouncer just glanced at and let in, but others had to wave cash. That was a way in quickly. Vincent was just about done eyeing his way in when he heard buzzing from his glove compartment. He opened it, pushing away the empty cigarillo packs and unpaid parking tickets to find one of his burner phones buzzing away. 

Vincent raised his eyebrow, he didn’t get scammers or anything. Anyone who called that number knew it and knew who they were callin. So Vincent flipped it open and answered. 

“Mister Valério?” 

“Who’s calling?” 

“Agent Milton, FBI.” 

“Right, and what can I do for you Mister Milton?” 

“Is this Vincent Valério I’m speaking to?” 

“It very well could be but I’m afraid I can’t answer that.” 

“Right, well, Mister Valério I have a few questions for you and I’m wondering if you might come down to the local station.” 

“Well I’m a might busy right now, Agent,” Vincent glanced behind him out of habit. No one was sneaking up on him. 

“I thought as much, when I visited your trailer you weren’t there and your vehicle was gone.”

“Nice of you to stop by.”

“Yes, do you mind telling me where you’ve gone?”

“Off to visit family.”

“Right, according to our records you have no living family.”

“Is that so?” Vincent rummaged around his glove compartment and managed to find a cigarillo. His voice had been calm, but this was a ploy. He had to play this game to buy himself time but he could feel the well of shame in his gut; a cauldron of self disgust that threatened to spew out of his mouth. The taste of tobacco on his lips soothed it slightly. 

“Your father died in 2006 right?”

“I’m sure you know already.” 

“And you enlisted to the US Army Rangers that same year, correct?” 

“You tell me.” 

“It’s not exactly normal behaviour to enlist right after a close family member dies is it?” 

“I wouldn’t know.” 

“And then there’s the manner of his death, coroner didn’t even know what he was looking at, it was like something tore him apart from the inside. He couldn't even put down cause of death.” 

“I didn’t read that case,” Vincent said. He dragged heavily on his cigarillo as the memory came to him. Gurgling and choking, red spikes piercing flesh from within. 

“Listen, Vince, I made this call out of professional courtesy for the work you’ve done and out of respect for you as a veteran but… I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist you come into the station or I’ll have to get a warrant.” 

“If ya could’ve gotten a warrant you would’ve already,” Vincent said. “So ya’ll either can’t or ain’t wantin' to, either way Agent, you and I ain’t gunna chat again.” 

Vincent hung up and snapped the phone in half, tossing it out the window before getting out and approaching the club. He joined the short line of suits who paid to get in. The bouncer raised an eyebrow at him, but accepted the wad of cash Vincent offered him. 

“Only 200$ to get in,” he said. 

“Keep the change.” 

“Much obliged but you sure this is your scene, cowboy?” 

“I’m sure, maybe you can point me to who I’d talked to if I wanted something… different?”

A hint of displeasure showed on the bouncers’ face “Talk to Chase at the bar, he’ll set you up.” 

“Thank ya”

The pounding beat of music vibrated through the neon halls. Doorman was right, it wasn’t his scene at all. Vincent never did like techno much. 

There were three sorts of folks here. The ones with a lot of tattoos and too little clothes. Full of piercings and strange colours all over. Then there were the suits, stiff and coked up; looking for something they could only taste privately. Then there were the staff, all young, too young. Girls and boys both. Vincent felt something settle in his stomach that he didn’t like. 

The dance floor was crowded with people lost in a haze of substance and song, neon beams streamed across them like search lights. Older men pulled young women into private rooms furnished in velvet. Vincent noticed the weight of his gun more and more. 

Vincent skirted around the crowd and towards the bar, he sat down with a sigh. Pinching his nose, he had to focus on Jane. He began to think through how he would search the place, that was until he was distracted by the bartender. 

His messy curly brown hair was pulled back in a short loose tail, his turtle neck hugged his body a little too much. And he smiled sweetly at Vincent, who couldn’t help the grin he got on his face. 

“What can I get you?” he asked. 

“Whatever you’re best at, sugar,” Vincent drawled. The bartender batted his long eyelashes and grinned, reaching down to grab a glass. Vincent swore he was showing himself off. 

“What’s a cowboy like you doing here?” 

“Looking… for something.”

“Oh yeah?” the bartender delicately placed the drink before him, his nails were painted blue. “What would that be?” 

Vincent slowly sipped the drink, tasting sweet whiskey and pomegranate as he looked him over. 

“You first, what’s your name, sugar?” 

“Chase,” he purred. 

“And what’s a pretty little thing like you doing working here?” 

“It’s a job,” he shrugged a graceful shoulder. “Now you got a name, cowboy? Or you too mysterious for that?” 

“V- Cain” 

“Cain,” Chase repeated, tasting the sound of it. “Very mysterious, that your real name?” 

“Does it matter?” 

“Not at all.” 

“Good.”

“Still haven’t told me what you’re looking for, so what is it, cowboy?” 

Vincent paused, weighing his options. For all he knew he’d be arrested on return home, one night couldn’t hurt… he snuffed that thought quickly. It was tempting, but not important, he had work to do. 

“Looking for something different, taste wise,” Vincent said. “I heard they did that sort of thing around here.” 

The playful light dropped from Chase’s eyes and his smile dropped, Vincent hated it. 

“Yeah,” he said, he sounded almost robotic. It was as if he was forced to comply. “This way.” 

Chase brought Vincent past some curtains and down a long hall, the music faded to a distant hum as they entered a large dimly lit room. There Vincent joined a group of suits, all of whom looked strung out. They sat in plush velvet chairs, watching a dim stage in anticipation. Vincent joined them. 

The lights faded into a purple haze and from the curtains came ten women. Girls actually, the oldest couldn’t have been older than twenty, and the youngest was only twelve. Their faces were glazed over, staring off into the middle distance. All were dressed as if they were going to prom; with short skirts dressed full of sequins. The suits perked up, eyeing them and panting like rabid dogs. 

Vincent clenches his fists, he could feel a stabbing pain in his heart. His blood physically reacted to his anger, and threatened to reveal itself. He breathed through his nose, and scanned the lineup. 

It was hard to recognize her immediately with all the makeup they had plastered on her face. But there she was, Jane. The light from her eyes was gone. Vincent scanned the room, there were bouncers at every corner, likely armed. He would need to get Jane alone first. 

Chase came around and handed each man a menu, there displayed was each girl as if she was some premium cut of meat. With her age, her weight, and even her ‘mileage’ and though many of them had a number there Vincent was relieved a little to see Jane’s was zero. The price for each girl was barely that of a new car. 

Vincent’s heart pulsed but he maintained an air of calm; he indicated to Chase that he was interested in Jane. The suits chose their prize, Vincent struggled within to not kill them all here and save the other girls from what would happen next. He reminded himself he was here to do a job. One job. And getting himself killed helped no one. 

The girls were pulled off the stage and pushed into side rooms, the suits eagerly followed them, panting like dogs. Vincent swallowed back the acid in his throat and followed Jane into the room she was placed in. 

She stood waiting for him, staring off into the distance. She shook like a leaf, and blinked back tears. Though she otherwise looked unharmed. As Vincent stood there thinking of what to say she silently began to unclasp her dress. 

“Stop,” Vincent said quickly, Jane jumped in fear. Vincent softened his face and knelt down, speaking as calmly as he could. 

“Your name is Jane,” he said, and she froze. “Your mother is named Sarah-Lynn James, she sent me here, I’m not here to hurt you, I’m here to get you out.” 

“Are you… with the police?” 

“Not exactly, my name’s Vincent, just breathe okay?”

Jane continued to sob softly into her hands. Vincent scanned the room, besides the lush bed and cushions, neon lights, and mirrored ceiling; there wasn;t much. No secondary exit. Vincent began considering how far he could get with Jane in tow before he was stopped; not far. 

He was considering hiding her under his jacket when the neon lights shut off abruptly and they were left in darkness. Vincent heard shuffling outside, footsteps, shouting. He gripped his pistol and pulled it from his waistband. 

Speakers crackled to life, and a soft voice spoke out into the darkness. 

“Step out.”

Vincent felt an immense pressure in his head, like the words physically weight a tone on his mind. His legs nearly moved to obey, like he was meant to do so; yet he caught himself. He blinked in confusion, and in that moment of lost focus he didn’t immediately realize Jane had left his side and walked towards the door. 

He jumped to his feet and shoved himself in front of her as she stepped into the now bright lights of the stage room. Jane bumping into Vincent’s back was enough to knock her out of her trance and she froze again. 

Vincent gripped his pistol with white knuckles but did not raise it, they were surrounded by twelve armed men who pointed pistols and shotguns at them. In the middle of them was a portly balding man who smiled brightly at him. 

“It doesn’t work the best on people like us,” he said, his voice reverberating through Vincent’s skull. His heart beat thumped in his head. 

“You don’t recognize me but I recognize you… Vincent, right?”

Vincent said nothing, he did his best to tune out what he was saying and scanned the room. Only one exit. 

“You look good, been working out? You’re not as skinny as you were but then we were both young.” 

Vincent observed the armed men, they all had that glazed empty-minded look about them. Behind them, just barely, Vincent could swear he saw Chase hovering behind them. 

“I was in the program too, Vince, I’m Basil remember? Cut pretty early because they realized my voice… well everyone hears it… everyone listens you know?” 

Vincent was having trouble not listening but he managed to keep his face blank even though he felt an urge to reply. Like he was obligated to, like he wanted to. 

“No matter what I say, everyone wants to listen and do as I say, except us, except metas, the stronger they are the more they resist,” Basil laughed. “Took some trial and error to figure out, but I realized what this meant. These people, they’re meant to serve me, I’m meant to command you see? That's why I have this voice.” 

Vincent tried to remember how many bullets he had. Thirteen rounds in each mag, one locked and loaded, two more in his pocket. That made thirty-nine rounds. More than enough if he was accurate, but he didn’t know if these thugs were wearing body armour, or if there were more waiting to bust in. 

“I realized these people are like cattle, so I treat them like such, bought and sold, meat for me to do as I will; but you, oh your power is even greater. You were a warrior. I could use a warrior, Vince.” 

Vince spotted Chase again, he was staring at him from behind the thugs. His eyes were wide, and has lost the glazed look that he had before. He stared at Vincent, and at Jane. Vincent looked at him intensely. 

“All your life, Vince, you’ve been a lapdog for the state, for the obsolete! We’re the next step, stronger, faster, smarter, it just takes time; that’s what I’m building here don’t you see? A world where we don’t have to walk as if we’re something we’re not!”

There was a pause, as Basil spread his arms open in expectation. Vincent stared at him unimpressed, and the smile slowly faded on Basil’s face. 

There was a crash and within a moment the whole room was plunged into darkness. Vincent reacted immediately, grabbing Jane and throwing them both to the side. Lunging behind the stage the darkness was cut with bright muzzle flashes as the thugs opened fire. 

Vincent shoved Jane onto the floor and covered her body with his as the bullets ripped around them. When there was a break in the gunfire he quickly popped out of cover and spit out a flurry of ten rounds, unsure if he even hit anything. 

Jane was crying, Vincent’s ears rang with noise. He smelt blood, and swore he felt sand between his fingers and the scent of blood mixed with the stench of burning oil. 

He grit his teeth and popped out of cover to fire three more times, until his pistol clicked empty. This time he definitely heard a body hit the floor; he dove back down to quickly flick out the empty magazine and replace it with a fresh one. 

The door to the room slammed open, light from the bar spilled into the darkness and illuminated a wide strip of the room. Five or six more bouncers rushed in, and Vincient stood and fired accurately as they paused to take stock of the situation. Two shots per man in rapid succession. Vincent threw himself backwards, his back slamming into the floor as bullets ripped through the stage, throwing wood splinters everywhere. 

Vincent felt his last magazine slip from his waistband and clatter to the floor, sliding under the stage and into the dark where he couldn’t see. While controlling his breathing he pulled back the slide on his pistol and saw he only had one round left. Next to useless, he stuck the weapon into his jacket. 

“There’s no way out of this, Vince!” Basil shouted from across the room. 

Vincent felt Jane’s trembling hand holding onto his arm. His heart beat hard in his chest. 

“All your life you’ve been running, the only way out of this is to show me what you are!” 

Vincent placed his hand over Jane’s, his fingers cracked like they were full of ice. 

“Keep your eyes closed and don’t move until I come back,” he said softly. 

Vincent’s heartbeat palpated through his body. Splinters formed under his flesh, spreading like ice. Hardening into crystal. Vincent found a nail on the floor and picked it up, before he got to his feet and slowly stepped out of cover. 

He kept his hands open and arms spread and Basil kept his men steady. The lights flickered back on and Vincent saw he was able to bring down seven of the thugs. 

“I know what you are,” Basil said, grinning triumphantly. 

“Doubt it,” Vincent said, and he took the nail to his wrist and tore open his flesh. 

Crimson blood spurt forth in a wide shower, immediately solidifying into razor sharp fragments which hailed down onto Basil and his thugs. They ducked and stumbled, covering their heads and eyes. 

Vincent flicked his wrist and blood rapidly formed a long spear which snapped off from his open wound, he gripped it and swung it in an arc knocking three of the men down by sweeping their legs. Adjusting his grip he shoved the point into the throat of the man to the far right, his pistol clattered to the ground as he gurgled on his own blood. 

Gunshots rang out, Vincent felt two pinpricks of pain on his back. He dropped the spear and turned, seeing a bouncer staring at him with wide eyes. A spike formed in Vicnent’s hand and he tossed it forcibly so it flew through the air and buried itself in his forehead. 

He whipped around and with the rapid movement of his arms Vicnent unleashed a flurry of spikes into the remaining bouncers between him and Basil. They ducked and stumbled to avoid them, but Vincent’s aim was true, and all of them fell to the ground with a six inch spike buried in their flesh somewhere. 

The room stank of blood and echoed with the sounds of dead and dying men. Basil lay on his back, staring up at Vincent with a mixture of fear and excitement. 

“Don’t you see what you're capable of? Don’t you see what you are?”

Vincent approached, blood dripping from his arm. He grabbed Basil by the throat and hoisted him up. 

“We’re… brothers, you and I,” he croaked. 

Vincent pressed his palm against Basil’s eye. 

“I killed my brother” 

His skull cracked loudly as the crystal shard shot right through his brain. 

Jane kept her eyes shut as Vincent led her out of the club, a trail of blood followed them. Yet just as quickly as it strained the floor the blood began to ripple and flow; pushed by an invisible current as it followed Vincent. Crawling up his leg to squeeze its way into his wound. The crystals shattered apart and melted into liquid which followed the flow. Vincent’s heart pumped painfully, the second he got to his car he popped an aspirin. 

He only told Jane to open her eyes when the club was far out of sight. She refused to listen until they were out of Cincinnati and headed towards the state border. 

Vincent inspected his wrist, only a thin scar remained. It had been so long since he’d done that. It felt… he hated that it felt good, like a pressure was released, a weight off his shoulders. Yet it also came with sickness, his heart hadn’t stopped aching. His head sounded, his blood felt heavy; constantly reminded of what was inside him. 

“Why didn’t ya call the police?” 

“What?” Vincent asked, starting out of his own thoughts. 

“The cops, why didn’t you call ‘em when you found me?” Jane asked. 

“Couldn’t be sure they’d actually help,” Vincent said. “Place has been there for a while, good chance five-oh know ‘bout it, and they’ve done nothin.” 

Jane was silent for a long while, Vincent scanned his mirrors. Looking for anyone tailing him, be it Basil’s goons or the feds. 

“He called you a Meta,” Jane said. Vicnent glanced at her in his rearview mirror, she was staring out the window at the passing farmland. 

“Yep.” 

“I’ve heard talk about them on the radio, folk don’t like ‘em.” 

“Yep.” 

“That… man, he was one.” 

“Yep.” 

“Are you?” 

Vincent considered the road for a moment. 

“I’m just here to get you home.” 

They rode in silence for a long while, until Jane spoke again. 

“I won’t tell no one.” 

Vincent couldn’t help but smile softly to himself. He saw a turnoff that led to a service plaza, little more than a gas station, a truck stop, and a few other amenities. But there was a McDonalds. 

“You hungry, kid?” 

Soon enough Jane was sitting munching on fries and a burger, she even managed a little smile. Vincent smiled back as he sipped a cup of coffee. 

He tried not to think about how Jane would turn out later, how any of this would affect her in life. But maybe, just maybe, a few quiet moments feeling like a little kid again would help. He sure as hell never got that. 

“Can I get a McFlurry?”

“Knock yourself out, kid.” 

They took their time but soon enough they were off again down the highway, Jane slurping down a milkshake and Vincent feeling a little bit better. The drive back to Tennessee was remarkably uneventful, Vincent even found himself not looking around for danger. A sense of peace came over him, the last thing he did as a free man was a wholly good one. 

He pulled into the driveway of the James home, Mrs James opened the door, her eyes welling with tears. Vincent had hardly parked his truck when Jane ran out and sprinted into her mothers arms. They were both wailing and laughing, touching each other's faces. 

Vincent stood off, hands in his pockets. Allowing them their moment, before he quietly stepped back into his truck. 

“Wait! Mister Valério!” Mrs Jones rushed up to the window of the truck, leaning in to kiss Vincent on the cheek. 

“Is there sure there’s no way I can pay you?”

“Like I said, ma’am, the casserole is enough, take care of your daughter now,” Vincent looked over at Jane. “Stay out of trouble, you hear?”

“Yes sir,” Jane said with a smile. 

Sirens echoed through the air and Vincent pulled out of their driveway, speeding off as the sirens got louder. He blew past the turn that led to hsi trailer, seeing the distant glow of police lights heading that way. 

He turned back towards the highway. He was sure he wouldn’t get far, and a part of him screamed to give it up. Yet a more base animalistic voice drove him to run, flee, at least try to escape the noose tightening around his neck. 

Vincent turned onto the highway, as he did so, seemingly out of nowhere, three black SUV’s turned onto the highway with him. They matched his speed exactly. Vincent glanced at them through his mirrors, their windows were tinted illegally dark. Feds. 

He pressed onto his gas, the old engine in his truck shuttered. One of the SUV’s pulled ahead of him. Vincent tried to swerve but hsi front locked with the SUV’s rear and pitted him into a spin. Vincent kept himself from rolling over and came to a stop, looking up to see his truck boxed in and surrounded by men with guns and dark shades. 

Game over. 

Vincent placed a cigarillo in his mouth and lit ii, casually stepping out. He half expected to get shot right there and then, but he wasn’t. He frowned. Cops weren;t this quiet, even Feds. He looked around, they all had weapons trained on him, but no shouts, no commands to see his hands, nothing. No logos either…

“Mister Valério,” a woman’s voice said. Vincent turned around, a brown woman in a suit approached him. Her heels clicked against the pavement, the tip of a tattoo poked out from her collarbone. She extended a hand. 

“You can call me Saturn,” she said, her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I have a career opportunity for you.” 

TAGS: Remember when I used to tag people? @west-end-lady @redheadedbrunette @bespectacled-ghost @lowes-core-waifu @talesfromgringolandia @borgesperovago @thelegendofsqam @beakedwhalesyo @a-beautiful-crow @paula-of-christ @tinfoil-catholic @kasrkinguardsman @rose-in-the-snow @supreme-leader-stoat @the-lost-alchemist @holbytlanna @cousin-possum-kc @cheerfullycatholic @cat-a-holic @the-writers-wrench @animeandcatholicism @the-tea-and-book-nook @lions-online-library @lady-larklight

lemme know your thoughts and if you wanna be added to the tag list

[chaifootsteps]

Viv:" ugh ❤️ Bojack Horseman"

Sorry sis, Bojack humanized everyone, including the "antagonists" like Beatrice. What about Henrietta? She haunts the narrative of the season and she is respected by Beatrice herself after sleeping with her husband. Let me guess, Viv thinks Hollyhock is a selfish bitch because she cut Bojack off and he ended up relapses over it.

Do you think Sarah Lynn deserved to die too? Did you find it funny her step dad was SA'ing her?

Diane is a whiney spoiled bitch? Did you think it was funny not even her own mom defended her from the misogynistic males in her family? It was ok because her dad was a tenured professor at an expensive college and she married an older man with money?

Gee, even Ana Spanakopita was humanized. "Some people will kick and struggle bringing you down with them". She was divorced wasn't allowed to see her kid too.

I'm sorry, I could go on and on because that's the beauty of Bojack. They showed everyone as the complex beings they were and the devices of how different everyone was because they had their own traumas too.

But you know, Stella is the bad person. Who cares if she likes parties and likes drinking tea with her friends.

Makes you wonder if Viv nodded off during all of those scenes, or maybe got distracted searching for her own name on Twitter.

[septianamichelleahmadgeigermay]

SEPTIANA MICHELLE AHMAD GEIGER MAY

ALISON BEHM KARA PULZ LACEY WOLF SARAH ESCHELMANN TORI HARRIS EMILY HARRIS NIKKI ASAO TARA STILLIONS WHITEHEAD LYNNE MARIE HEDVIG

BRADLEY CARL GEIGER

SAPPORO JAPANESE RESTAURANT SHERIDAN WYOMING UNITED STATES OF AMERICA THE PLANET KNOWN AS EARTH ALSO KNOWN AS TERRA

[bojackhorsemanobviously]

(great stuff he says in old tweet gahhhhhhhhh) you find very strange things on youtube 2014 that make you want to burn your eyes out / promote of TMT movie so sure retweet a 21 year old underwear/ also talks of BJ horseman/ can seen bj doing retweeing this tbh

if I have to suffer knowing this so DO YOU

[bettysupremacy]

Summer Girl

summary: Rafe and his summer girl scramble for more time.

word count 1.4k

a/n big thanks to lynn cause i probably wouldn’t have posted this without her</3 im sorry if it seems rushed🙁 I’ve looked over it so many times I’m kinda sick of it

The shrieks of Sarah as topper flings her over his shoulder are deftly drowned by Rafe’s intent fixation on her. The slope of her nose, her shoulders, her pretty eyes, the downturn of her lips as she focuses on the waves. It’s a quiet moment between the both of them, it suffocates Rafe in the best way possible. 

It’s a warm summer day, the sun shining down achily, no cloud in sight. The water crystal and shiny, the waves big and disturbed by Topper and Sarah’s loud joyousness. They splash, and kick, they scream, and giggle. It’s a disgusting show of PDA, if you ask Rafe.

He turns his gaze back to her, watches her hands ball into the sand, let it go, and worm her fingers under the warm grain. He never knew he could find so much fondness in the quiet with her, in the chilly summer days with her. He’s a party boy, as he’d say, through and through.

“Put me down!” Sarah’s shrill voice giggles over crashing waves. 

Rafe had laughed when his summer fling proclaimed her love for the summer. Boyish disinterest when she sighed about salty skin and dinners at the club after beach days, more interested on when he’d kiss her agin. You couldn’t blame the boy, pretty girl laying in his bed and all, but now he understood. 

“Is it because of me?” Rafe had said, poking her side playfully. “Am I the reason you love summer so much, hmm?” 

“Yes,” She smiled at him, tilting her head back into the pillows to stare at his ceiling, “but it’s also the ocean, the way bonfires smell when the fire mixes with the salt of the beach.” 

He didn’t understand, didn’t care to ask. Too poetic for the teen boy.

“The way I looks in my midsummers tux?” Rafe adds, turning on his side. 

“The way you looks in your midsummers tux, the hotdogs your dad makes during pool days,  Roses lemonade.” 

“It’s so fucking good.” He sighs dramatically, dropping his head in the crook of her neck, blotting some sneaky kisses haphazardly. Her arm wraps around him instinctually as she smiles. 

“So fucking good.” She agrees.

He understands what she had been talking about now. He had teased that her love for summer was because of him, but wasn’t that why he loved summer? Her?

“What are you thinking about, handsome?“

Her hand comes up cupping his cheek, thumb swiping over his lips curiously. Her gaze matches his and deep down he knows she’s admiring him how he admires her. Greedy for attention, sick on love. He doesn’t know how to feel about it. Excitement sits deep in his chest. 

“You.” He mumbles, dopey smile on his lips as her hand sneaks back to scratch the back of his newly shaved head. He leans into the touch “You wanna get in again?” 

She’s warm on her towel, letting golden hour soak into her dried skin. “With you?” 

“With me.” He nods. 

“I’m hungry,” Her touch is pulled from him as she sits up. “The Wreck?” 

He sits up as well. “You know it.” 

“Should we invite Top and Sar?”

His slow glare pulls her lips up prettily. “No, we shouldn’t.” 

“They might be hungry you know.” She shakes her head. “Out in the sun all day, swimming with us.” 

“They’ll manage.” He stands up, sighing tiredly and wiping his legs of rogue sand left on his damp skin. She looks up at him confusedly. “You coming, sunny?” 

She smiles at the nickname. “We gotta pack up.”

“They’ll manage,” He repeats, jutting his hand out for her to grab. “come on.” 

She shakes her head again, slipping her hand in his and letting him use his body weight to lift her. “I’m only letting you do this because I’m so hungry.” 

He doesn’t let go of her hand, readjusting and giving it a firm squeeze. “Is that so?” They walk past Sarah’s Jeep. 

“Yes, i could just eat a cow.” She swings their fingers. 

He smiles and she turns away in delight. “What’re you ordering?” 

“A cheese burger and fries, with a milkshake.” She smiles at him. “And Kiara’s Mac n cheese, and-“

“Mac n Cheese? That’s not on the menu?”

“Not for you.” He rolls his eyes.

“Mac n Cheese, and onion rings, and fried shrimp, and a biscuit, with jelly.” 

“Grape.” He adds.

“Yes. Grape jelly.”

“Anything else?”

“Tater tots,” She brings their fingers up and kisses his knuckles. “With cheese and bacon.” 

“You’re trying to send me in debt.” 

“You’ll manage.” She beams.  

—

“Are you gonna miss your touron when she leaves?” She teases lightly, flicking her straw wrapper at him. He dodges swiftly. Flicking it to the other side of the table. She used to roll her eyes at couples who shared a booth bench, but now she couldn’t imagine sitting so far from her summer boy.

“You’re not a fuckin touron.” Rafe rolls his eyes.

“Yes I am.”

“No you’re not.” He puts out, gruffer than he meant. He feels bad.

“Then what am I?” 

“You live a ferry away,” He leans in, both his elbows on the table “2 hours baby, and you’re here for every major holiday.” 

“Thanksgiving, Christmas, Spring break, summer.”

“You remember the time you convinced your mom to let you take the ferry so you could trick or treat with Sarah?” She smiles at him fondly. That was Halloween seven. Sarah and Y/N’s first, and only, Halloween with each other. 

“You remember that?”

“Uh, yeah? What were you again? Velma and Daphne?” She sits back in her chair. “Yeah, baby, I remember things.” 

“You hated me back then.” 

His head twitches affronted. “No i didn’t?”

“You called us tweedle dee and tweedle dum.”  He laughs, unashamed by Mr. And Mrs. Cooper eyeing him at table three.

“Okay, yeah, i did that.” 

She sighs and he tilts his head to catch her eye.

“You’re not a touron.” It comes out more assuringly this time.

She nods. “I know.” 

“So what’s this about, huh?” He shakes his head, knocking his foot with hers. It’s silent. “What’s this about, baby?” 

“I’m gonna miss you.” She snakes her arms around him, pulling him in and breathing in the cologne that stuck to his wet body hungrily.  His arms wrap around her neck, his nose buries in her wet hair. 

“Me too,” he says muffled. “I always do, you know that.” 

“But it was never like this summer.” She sighs.

“This summer?” He questions. 

“You never had to miss us while we were a thing. I never had to miss us.” 

The words hang over their heads oppressingly. Thing. They were a thing. Last year they weren’t a thing, neither the year before that. They never had to mourn a blooming relationship. He doesn’t know what to say. 

Her phone buzzes.

Y’all just up and left us

rude :(

She looks away. Ignores it. He doesn’t like to see her so upset. It takes his heart between cruel fingers and squeezes it meanly. “We’ll figure it out.” She nods in response, letting Rafe pull her into his side, pressing a long warm kiss into her hair. It’s prolonged by his want to be close to her forever, to never let her go back. “You can stay.” 

“I can stay.” She weighs the pros and cons of moving to the banks. She’d have Sarah as her neighbor 24/7, Rafe has her boyfriend, not just for the summer. She’d have a fall boyfriend, winter boyfriend, spring boyfriend, and when it came to it, summer boyfriend all over again. She never liked the kids on the mainland anyways, they didn’t get the obx the way she did. 

“You can stay.” He affirms. 

“I can stay with my grandpa.” He’d been practically begging her to move in since she was 16. 

“You know he’s been inviting you to move in for years.” 

“And go to the academy.” Get my grandad to put me in all of Sarah’s classes.

“Chapel Hill in a year.” Apartment with Rafe.

She looks up at him. He looks down at her. She laughs at his attention and sticks her face in his warm chest. “I’m moving to the banks.”

“You’re moving to the banks baby!” His arms wrap around her deftly, moving them side to side in quick celebration. “This deserves some cake.”

[mircalla-tepez]

~ Cosplay: Sarah Lynn ~

Sarah Lynn is a former child star turned popstar from the Netflix Show „Bojack Horseman“. Originally very passionated about architecture, she was pushed by a very demanding mother to instead pursue a career in Hollywood.

This series of 6 photos tried to capture the essence of a few of Sarah’s most iconic quotes while emphasizing that what you see in the media or on the internet might in no way portrait the reality behind the pictures. Foto 1: „I am Sarah freaking Lynn. I’m gonna be sexy forever!“ Foto 2: „"Life is a never ending show, old sports, except the minor detail that it ends,[...] don't stop dancing till the curtain falls!" Foto 3+4: “I don’t like anything about me. […] Nothing of this is me. The only reason I wear this shirt is because some company paid me $8000 to wear it. I don’t even need the money. I just like that someone still wanted me to wear their shirt. What am I supposed to do? I don’t know what to do. Am I doomed? Are we all doomed?!” Foto 5: „That’s too much man!“ Foto 6: "It's a giant dome! Domes are so cool! I wanna be an architect..." In the series, Sarah Lynn dies tragically young, as she herself predicted, aged only 31, suffocating due to an overdose of H. Being 31 myself I kind of felt the urge to try and breath some life in this really sad story of a person living & suffering in plain sight & yet in the end noone lend her a helping hand. Things like this happen. I guess all I want to express is: Please, take care of one another. - Model: Mircalla Tepez Foto+Edit: _soulcatcher_photography_

[bojackhorsemanlvr]

that’s it i’ve had enough, bojack horseman is so sexy and i’m tired of not admitting it. i’m not just talking about him in the 90s or him in Philbert, even just as a 50 year old wash up who’s a lazy bastard. oh my god. i need him. idc how bad he is at relationships in the show or how bad he is in sex give me that horsecock NOW. those writers must’ve know what they were doing when they kept tying this hoe up please tell me you guys agree. oooo even in the sarah lynn episode when he snorts the coke off his fingers. when he has huge eyebags and hair all messy, yeah thats how he’s gonna look for WEEKS when i’m done with him. also i’m kinda drunk right now