#and i start to feel like an three headed alien when i'm around white people mentality for too long

[psalmsofpsychosis]

i like to play a game in which i ask myself "are you actually insane or have you been talking to white people too much"

[yaut-jaknowit]

How about a human womans gets pregnant with a yautja (They are probably in a lab). The male escapes and takes her back to his clan and hands her off to the females of the clan. And instead of falling in love with the male, the sire of the unborn pup. the human womans gets together with another female who is teaching the ways of the yautja. Maybe the male stops by here n there...

Lose Yourself

Pairings: Male Yautja x AFAB!Reader (Platonic)

Word Count: 4039

Summary: Four concrete walls have been your sight for the last year. Caregivers and doctors see you every day to ensure your heath. Then three months ago, they introduced you to him. A creature not from this world that you can tell. He does not speak but the two of you have an understanding and one another.

Author Note: When this popped up in my feed, I started to bounce off of the walls like a crazed animal. I love this idea so much. In the future, I would love to write out a whole story like this. For now, I'm just going to do at least two parts, maybe three for this.

Part 2

Masterlist

Ao3

Blaring sirens jolt you back into reality. Your heart instantly leaps into your throat and lodges itself there. The whites of your eyes clear even in the limited light of the dingy cell you dared to call home.

Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around your knees and carefully watched the only entrance and exit to this singular, minute room. The alarm meant something. Terrible things. Nothing ever good came from it. Your head was plastered to the tops of your knees as you observed for any incoming threat.

This wasn’t a horrible life. Three meals a day; seen by doctors – or at least what looked to be doctors – practically every day; clothing on your body. But the fact you weren’t allowed to leave the room unless they wanted you or you didn’t have anything to stimulate your brain. Just an animal on the verge of insanity, forced to be driven there with no relief.

The people who keep you locked in here are the only people you are able to interact with. It’s one sided. You lost your will to try and gain any words besides the casual ‘how are you feeling today?’ from them. They might mix it up after some time but it was always the same doctor-patient relationship.

Out of everything here though, what caught your attention was the thing they brought you to a few times before. Everything about him is locked down and sealed tight from both sides. Not even a name from the lumbering giant.

From the limited times you’ve got to interact with him, you’ve learned he wasn’t a nice character. At first, he had nearly torn you apart before he had jerked to a stop. Akin to a horrified look passed over his alien features and he backed away. After that day, he’s been reasonable to be around. For some reason, your ‘caregivers’ love to know how you interact with him or what he’ll do if… you were some sort of danger.

Not the most protective creature, he’ll snarl and growl if the guards are too rough with you. His chains prevent him from doing anything physical. Once you are completely alone with him though, the chains that keep him locked to the wall are slackened. He’s now allowed to move about the vicinity as he seems fit.

Move he does. He stalks, prowls around the room, searching for any way for escape. They way he moves gives you the hint he’s this predator, like a lion hunting its prey. When you watch him, you admire him and prowess.

Wishful thinking makes you pray for him to find a weakness and escape from this horrid place. The chains on his wrists are more than tight. It’s daily occurrence blood drips from cuts. He tries to hide it, obscure it from sight but the eyes are the window to the soul. You are able to read his pain, every wince when the chains rub just a hair too much. You worry about him, this creature that was no human.

The first time he allowed you to touch him was a miracle. When the session was over, you were immediately yanked from the premises and shoved into a different room. Your caregivers began to berate and demand answers on why he was allowing you such contact. As the clueless person you are, you just shrugged your shoulders.

That night, they left you with a few more bruises than usual.

The door swung open and revealed a guard and a caregiver. Same protocols as always. You were taken from your room and swiftly led further down to what you believed to be the lowest level of this complex. The entire way there, you were compliant and willing. You’ve done your fair share of fighting, everything in your power to leave this place.

But it never worked. It wasn’t truly accepting your fate but going along the motions. Your mind has long grown numb, completely stale to everything. It needed stimulation but no one offered that.

A quick shove had you toppling onto your hands and knees. A loud snarl and rattling chains, metal creaking from tremendous amount of weight thrown against echoed in the limited space. You hissed at the new wounds on your knees and whipped your head up.

Though weakened from lack of food and proper exercise, the alien was straining against the shortened chains. His blazing eyes were on you, taking in everything your caregivers did to you.

With a click, the thick steel door latched shut and trapped you in here with him. You sighed and stood back up while taking a glance behind you. The only entrance to the room sealed off until they choose to retrieve you. Until then, you calmly walked over to the ashen, grey alien and sat down close by. A respectful amount of space placed between the two of you.

Two more clicks entered the air. The chains that once locked him to the wall slackened and allowed the predator free range.

He instantly stalked over to you and knelt down. You picked up your head to find his eyes still on your sitting form. His gaze flicked down to your scrapped knees.

Those strange mandibles of his, or fangs could be a better word, didn’t offer any lips to form words. Not English at least. He seems to speak in his own but neither of you could truly understand one another in words. Instead, gestures got you farther in this strange friendship you’ve created with him. He was the only being in this forsaken place to offer niceties.

You reached to the fresh wound. Blood already dotted the scrapped skin. Nothing that cried for a bandage. Not that you would get in the end. “It’s alright,” you reassured him and threw a thumbs up at him. A sign he’s learned meant everything was fine.

He hovered still and stayed sat on his haunches at your side. A little unusual for the predator always on the move. When he was with you, ninety percent of the time he is prowling the given space and observing the door. You didn’t need to be told he was searching for his escape.

One animal, spirit lost to the solidarity. 

Another animal, always moving, always searching.

It didn’t take further than five more seconds for your gaze to drop and head to lean against the cool wall. It was colder in this room than even the halls that lead to here. You’ve pondered the reasons but have never come up with something concrete.

Warmth cupped your cheek and tilted your head back up to the only figure in this room. Your jaw dropped at the touch, eyes widening while you could only stare at the alien.

Once he found your eyes, he leaned in, diverted slightly to the side, and placed his alien mouth next to your ear. “I will get us out of here,” he whispered barely a fraction over his breath. You gasped in reaction, ready to spew questions when his thumb pressed against your lips. The words died in your throat before they could become sound.

Then, he nuzzled his mandibles to the crook of your neck and pulled back. The whole interaction had you puzzled but slightly scared shitless. Thise sharp fangs so close to your throat, knowing they could rip it out if he wanted. But instead, he promised your escape.

Escape.

It was like he offered you a sack of gold as a peasant.

“Please,” you murmured back and against the pad of his thumb. He grunted then stood up. The chains rattled at the movement and clacked against the ground. You saw the way his hands twitched at his sides when the sharp edge dug into his already sore flesh. Thick, raised scars would be left in its wake. That, you were sure of.

The alien moved away from you and began his pacing. It was the same pathing he always took. He looked high and low. You stayed there on the ground despite it hurting your lower back and watched him. As he moved, the hope that bubbled inside of your chest began to dwindle. Maybe he didn’t have a plan just yet or even the start of one.

You missed the feeling of the sun on your skin, the smell of fresh air. Freedom. That’s the base core you craved the most while in the pits of this place. You had no plans for escape. It didn’t look like he did either.

A hand ran through your knotted locks and started to work out the small rats' nests growing. He had spoken to you. Spoke English. After all the times you’ve been in contact with him, he finally speaks up and says that. But why did he say it so quietly?

Your eyes darted around the room, hiding behind your lashes. Four cameras. They left no space unseen. Did he not want anyone to know he could speak your language? I huffed and drew your knees while resting your chin on them.

Another click drew you from well of your thoughts. A sound you’ve heard before. The chains began to sucked back into the wall and dragged the struggling alien back to his original place. You watched with a sorrowful gaze, knowing every pull cut deeper into his forever bleeding cuts.

Before he could officially trapped back to the wall, he lunged at you and trapped your now quiver form to him. His body was a few degrees warmer than the room itself. The textured scales that covered him from head to toe rubbed against your back. You gave a yelp and struggled at first but stopped, hoping he wouldn’t harm you after all this time.

The first time you met flashing in your mind. What had stopped him?

His grasp on you wasn’t harsh or demanding, but firm, not allowing you slip away from him. The claws that tipped his fingers looked they could gut you like a fish. Yet, he ensured they didn’t dig into your skin.

The chains stopped once he was pulled to the wall but with you still in grasp. The door was ripped open and in poured seven heavily armed soldiers, guns directed at the two of you. You screamed and tucked into his chest and seek protection from the only friendly figure here. His arms tightened around in a secure manner. A deep rumbled beginning to grow from the depths of his chest.

In walked the main caregiver for you and him. You submissively bowed your head, afraid to look her in the eye and feel her wrath; or be knocked out and wake up in pain again.

The woman wearing a white coat looked down her nose at your meek form then gazed up at the predator trapping you. “You won’t hurt her,” she stated with a voice honeyed and sweet. How could she be so sure of something unknown? Even you didn’t know what his intentions were.

Warm, callused finger ensnared your throat. Your heart jumping and thumping against the digits holding your life. A whimper breaking free of your cracked, cry lips. The arm still wrapped around your torso  tightened but the hand rubbed the area behind your back. You inhaled sharply and slackened in his hold.

She marched forward and only left a space between her and you that dared him to take the lunge. “It’s against your honor code, isn’t it?” Your brows furrowed at the new information, unsure of what this ‘honor code’ entailed but hoped it truly meant he won’t kill you.

He growled and sent vibrations up your spine. Goosebumps were left in its wake. You shuttered and pressed yourself more into him.

Harsh, vile clicks and snarls sounded from his alien throat as he spat alien words at the doctor. An unamused gaze fell on her face while the grey creature said his piece.

When the sounds ceased and he breathed heavily, she used a finger to wipe spit off of her face and flicked back at him. “Are you done?” she huffed and rolled her eyes. “Your kind is so predictable. Quick to surge with rage and believe themselves to be high and mighty. Not for much longer.” You wanted to somehow shrink even more against him but there was not even a molecule of space to take up.

“Now, hand over the subject and we’ll still feed you tonight. And if you don’t… well, that’s for me know and you to find out.” You shuttered at her words, hand finding his arm and squeezing it. He returned the action with his arm still wrapped around your torso.

An action she saw. Her posture sagged then she spun around and walked behind the seven soldiers. They were used as a wall of protection.

“Retrieve the subject. Don’t kill either of them. Harm is okay,” she gave the order you knew was about to occur. Your eyes instinctively shut as you prepare for bullets to begin flying.

A deafening roar rattled your brain. Metal snapped. The heat you were once pressed against was gone. The pure instinct to search it out strong before your brain could register the scene unfolding in front of your trembling form. Your feet glued to the spot.

Even though he’s lost some of his muscular physique, this lethal giant showed off his strength and prowess. He had already thrown one of the soldiers into a wall, a dent left in its wake. Another was meeting the business end of this predator… and loosing not only the fight but their life as well.

Blood sprayed across the ground in a terrifying arch. The ruby red a sight you weren’t prepared to see. His claws causing the damage to be dealt and valuable life essence to be spilled at your feet. The same claws that had been wrapped around neck so softly moments before.

Bright pops of light and ear-bleeding claps left you dizzy in where you stood. You stumbled back and rested your shoulder against the cool concrete wall. The scene before you continuing to unfold as if you didn’t even exist.

It swiftly became a blood bath. The seven soldiers she brought into here were desecration into nothing more than piles of shredded meat and bleeding blood bags on the ground.

The horror that morphed over her usually neutral face was satisfying to say in the least. The fact she wasn’t going to be able to step out of this room dawned upon her. You watched as the color drained from her face with each step backwards.

Unlike you, she was trapped and at the will of the alien that bore his gaze down on her. You may be pressed against the wall like her, but you were safe, not afraid of him spinning around and mistaking you as one of them. You knew it in your heart he was following through with his promise. You’ll see the light of day again, breathe the fresh air of the day. Strangely enough, you felt giddy.

“You can’t do this! I’m unarmed!” she screamed at him and pointed a trembling finger at the grey alien. What’s with that? Does it have to do with this ‘honor code’ she spoke about before?

Oh, but he could. In a terrifying millisecond, your eyes couldn’t register what had truly happened. Her body laid motionless at the feet of the lumbering alien. Her back faced you, her head was turned towards you. The cold, lifeless blue eyes of hers stared blankly, unfocused.

Dead.

You released a shuttering breath and timidly looked at him. Said creature stood back to his full height and rolled his dense shoulders. The muscles that lined his shoulders and back rippling at the motion.

Then, the alien spun on his heel and marched over to you. For a scared shitless moment, you best believed you were about to receive the same treatment. What stopped him from doing so?

He came to a stop before you and offered you a hand. “We are getting out.” Words of English were rumbled at you. Your eyes flicked down to the open palm. The freedom you begged for since the day you arrived here was standing before you. Not in a form you were expecting.

You took his hand.

One moment, the ground was touching the bottom of your feet. The very next, your legs had to wrap around a wide frame, arms snug around his throat. His back to your chest. He patted your forearm. “Hold on tight. Do not let go,” he ordered then marched towards the door.

It was closed, still sealed. What was he going to do about that?

That had to a be stupid thought after watching him massacre the entire room. Clearly he had an idea, some plan to get you two out of here. As much as you hated to this, it gutted you, you trusted him fully to release you from this prison.

Carefully, he crouched down and grabbed a key card from a pocket of the doctor. Red from his hands smeared onto the thin piece of plastic. He held it up to a small area next to the door.

With a whoosh, the door opened. The moment it did. All the white lights suddenly flashed to red. A horrifying screech entered the air before going into a low pitch then back up. It continued to do this while he carried him and you into the hall.

His head whipped side to side, thoughts determining which way to go. You perked up at this and motioned for him to go left. “The stairs are next to the elevator,” you reasoned with him. He grunted and began to full on sprint in the given direction. This hundreds of pound of flesh barreled down the hallway like a semi-truck. Nothing could stop him unless he wanted to stop.

A ninety degree came up. The alien just slid and used an arm to keep himself from slamming into the wall. He continued on. You buried your face into his neck, ignoring the strange rubbery dreads that slapped against your head and face with each of his steps.

The hallway led him to the necessary door. He didn’t even try the handle when he full on kicked it down. The metal screeched as it was torn from the hinges and laid to rest at the bottom of the stairs. With that out of the way, he leaped easily over it and took three steps at a time.

The alarm still blared its horrible tune and forced a headache to pound inside of your skull. You whined and scrunched your nose, unable to relieve yourself of the noise.

Over the noise, you heard the tall tell sign of thundering footsteps. You tensed up, breath shuddering and catching in your throat. In reaction, you go to open your mouth and speak of the discovery. A single finger was held up in your line of sight. You closed your trap and hunkered back down.

He launched himself up a flight of stairs and crashed into something hard. Gunfire sounded less than ten feet away. A bullet never hits you as he powered through a sea of bodies. You kept yourself locked onto his back like a monkey for dear life. You don’t know if he would come back for you if you were to fall off. Or if a soldier may just kill you to solve half of their problems.

Warm, slightly substance latched onto your arms. You shuttered, already coming to the conclusion of what it is.

Dying, horrified screams echoed off the halls. They decreased in amount and volume until the last one was silenced.

A new quiet filled the air besides the heavy breathing from the beast you clung to. Ringing echoed inside of your ears and worsened your headache. You groaned and clenched your hands into a tight fist.

He moved on.

You were brought back to reality as the warmth tinglingly the back of your neck and arms. Confused, you picked up your head and opened your eyes.

Bright light first had you flinching but powering through the pain. Sunlight greeted you. Its light painful at first but warmth more than welcomed. Your jaw dropped at the sight now before you.

A vessel… No. A space craft. A UFO. And it had to be his.

The alien didn’t stop moving across the short field that took him less than ten seconds to clear reach the feet of the ship. He slammed his fist against the belly of it. A screeching hiss entered the air.

A slab of metal began to peel itself away from the belly of the craft and angle one end towards the ground. The sight something you would see from Star Wars. You could only watch in amazement as the alien marched up the ramp. He rushed his way through the insides and took expert turns until he reached the cockpit. His feet skidded to a stop at a console and hands flying across the panels.

You pulled yourself up higher and watched. He pressed buttons and started the engines.

They rumbled to life under his feet. The ship waking up from an unknown amount of rest.

Hanging off of his back, you spotted movement through the glass window before you. A hoard of soldiers poured from the facility you had broken out of. A cold sweat dripped down the length of your spine at the sight. You tapped rapidly on his shoulder to gain his attention. “We’ve got company,” you warned, voice wavering.

The creature scoffed and turned his head enough to meet your eyes. “Not for long,” he answered. A smirk that you didn’t need to see was evident in his voice. He reached over and grabbed a throttle. Pressure was added to the stick.

Power was fed into the engines. Their sounds gaining in volume. You felt it before you noticed the fact the craft was starting to lift off the ground. The people rushing towards the two of you doubled their efforts as they began to grow smaller.

Something hit the roof and prevented the vessel from gaining anymore height. The creature just scoffed and added extra power to the engines.

Metal groaned and gave way. The ship returned to its form ascent into the sky. You release a sob of relief while the two of you continued to climb into the sky. The prison left behind as everyone could only watch your escape.

Once blue skies transitioned to black and sparkles shining through, he released the tension in his shoulders then patted your forearm. “You can get down now,” he said and knelt down. The warm metal floor touching the bottom of your bare feet. You finally relented your hold on him and stretched out your muscles. Soreness sunk into your muscles after clinging to him for so long.

He turned around to look at you fully. The two of you taking the other in without the constant pressure of being under watch and locked into a room.

A smile broke across your dirtied features. It was slow, a small dribble of happiness filling your veins before it became a rush. You pumped your fists into the air and gave a lungful cheer that echoed back at you. Damn that headache, you could care less about it when freedom was returned to you at last.

Close to the end of your excitement, an ear-piercing roar sounded with your call. You stopped abruptly and looked at the alien. His head was tipped back, fangs fully widened. You let the smile return and gave a hearty call again. You deserved it after all the shit you’ve endured while at the prison.

The roar died off. You cut yours as well and returned to studying him again. Despite not knowing who or what he was, you could trust him completely. He had fought off the advances of the soldiers and kept you safe. It was impossible in the moment to wipe off the smile on your face. You didn’t even dare to try and knew it would be futile.

Freedom at last.

[odysseywritings]

Interviewing the Sorceress

@flashfictionfridayofficial

She caught my eye with her colorful purple clothes, half her hair jet black and half white, and a collection of gold trinkets that had no obvious origin, such as a cyclops and a three headed alien. For privacy, her real name and location have been omitted, yet her van had an elaborate painting of a wizard surrounded by trees. She appears to be born in the 50s yet her energy is youthful and loose.

My dad fought in the Second World War, and he never shook that off, so I grew up a military brat. I went across the states but also Germany. And everywhere I went, I saw premonitions coming from anything at any time. I didn't think about them a lot until they came true. It started off small with what food would be in school or what buildings I'd see. You couldn't say this stuff out loud or you'd be labeled insane so I kept it inside like a good little patriot.

Then bombs showed up nearly every week, us being the "Duck and Cover" generation, and I had this growing anxiety that the world would end. It made me cold and violent toward anything and anyone, small or big. Why bother being good if the world would turn to fire and rubble before I could drive or get my first kiss?

My teenage years had me running away a lot, meeting outcasts, smoking, bussing with rock stars, joining protests, all that. I dabbled in tarot and psychedelics, but what I saw was different, more real. By the 70s, I'd go through these invisible doors that would open up.

When did you realize you were entering these doors?

They would be around corners: alleys, woods, interiors. I didn't feel anything change on my body, but I felt I was in a transient state. Like a caterpillar turning into mush in a chrysalis. Suddenly, I was no longer in my world. It was like being in an alien planet in those hokey B-movies. (laughs)

People looked the same, but the fashion was radical, people were teleporting in these phone booth things, and robots were much more life-like. And before I knew it, I'd flip back to the world of tie dye and an energy crisis.

Some people claim to be abducted by aliens. Do you think you experienced a similar fate?

Oh, goodness, no. I didn't see any little green or gray men. I always felt like I stayed on Earth. The free love movement and sexual revolution made the culture shock easier to absorb, but it was overwhelming at first. As the 80s went on, and progress was slowing down, I felt a longing to go back. I was so tired of people being cruel and dumb, getting obsessed with yuppie greed, settling down in unhappy marriages and jobs. Things were becoming hazy and I wondered if there was any optimism.

It took a few years before another door opened and I couldn't wait! Everything was even more futuristic. There was no smog, no poverty, no real divisions. People had magic, or some kind of advanced technology, where they could just create things out of thin air!

I spent so much time in that future, I left my old one for... I think, 8 years. In that time, I could feel the universe and grab all the atoms. They could be weaved and crafted like a sewing kit for any problem. Viruses, fuel shortages, broken bones, hunger, all gone. I didn't worry about survival like I used to, and I studied and traveled with all the time in the world. I even trained to be an astronaut!

I could see so much of the galaxy and beyond. Even in space, the most terrifying and lonely place, I felt secure knowing I was closer to knowing life in its entirety.

What made you decide to return here?

I didn't want to learn everything while I was still healthy. What else would I do besides get bored to death? I'm over 70 but I haven't felt this young before. All the regrets, shame, anger, confusion, and pessimism in my youth are so distant that they belong to someone who doesn't exist anymore.

What matters is that I keep doing new things, making the impossible happen, and delivering the truth to others. I know I seem like a crazy old lady, but you can find doors to enter if you turn your head around the corner, and discover a new way to live life when everything seems to drag you down.

Thank you for taking the time for this interview.

My pleasure, dear!

[youaremysunshiness]

entry #16

My "friend" once told me that drama follows me and I was like “what?” I didn’t really listen to that at the time, but I realized that it has followed me in the past. I don’t wanna say that it does now because I don’t wanna manifest that but yeah I used to always have chaos around me and I think it’s because people treat me poorly.

Since I was a kid, I always attracted these friendships with women who were incredibly domineering and a little manipulative...okay not a little bit...very manipulative. I would always let them hurt me too because I always put others' feelings before my own, and that's what was happening between me and my "best friend." She would do very hurtful things to me and instead of just apologizing, she would make excuses and the one time she did apologize, it was like someone was holding a gun to her head. Also, another trait I've noticed that my past female friends have had were that they were dishonest. They would lie to me like it was second nature, and this girl lied. A lot. I used to fall for lies when I was younger, but now that I'm older I'm better at catching someone in a lie. There have been multiple occasions where she either admitted she lied or I found out that she lied to me or was keeping a secret from me (and telling everyone else), and that's just a HUGE red flag for me. Lying is never okay and it destroys trust. Sure, we all tell white lies once in awhile, but if you're always doing things/saying things or behaving in certain ways that you feel like you have to cover up or lie about, that will destroy trust in every relationship that you have. If you lie to me once, okay, just don't do it again. Twice, I'll start to question you. Three and more??? Times up. I'm out.

The thing is though, this girl lied to me so many times, destroyed my trust a long time ago, and I still forgave her. I still was her friend. I still was there for her. I held her when she cried at one of her sleepovers. I tried to be there for her in her darkest moments, but when I was in my darkest moments, she was nowhere to be seen. She even abandoned me in my darkest moments. My roommate did, too. When they went to Lucifer's party, and any other time I was hurt by their actions, they would just act like nothing happened or they would look at me like I was an alien. They never checked up on me either. They flat out ignored me. On the last day we were shooting, after rushing my set all day, I was crying in my bed after talking to one of my friends about it. She told me that I shouldn't take it personally. She made excuses for their bad behavior. Whenever I would approach anyone in the friend group about either of them, they would just make excuses. They weren't present on set. They were fooling around. They weren't listening to me when I gave them direction or told them where we were shooting. They were late every single day we were filming, especially my "best friend."

As I was crying under my blanket, K and L were joking around and getting ready for the concert. L would even stop and look at me, but neither of them even cared enough to ask me if I was okay. I was just lying there so fed up with them, just thinking to myself, "those two have no clue how self-centered they truly are." I was invited to the concert and they never said anything about it being a date. That's why I was angry. They don't think about their actions. They just make assumptions and do what they want to do. Why invite me when it was a date? Then they have the nerve to lie to me and say that they didn't invite me. Either they have really shitty memory or they just don't see past their own noses.

Since I've talked about this in therapy, I've realized that I was treated horribly by them. My therapist had to really remind me that I wasn't the problem which was crazy to me. I was always told that I was the problem or made to believe that I was the problem. I always blamed myself for everything, for being too sensitive, for being emotional. I always blamed myself, but they were pushing me too much. They didn't know how to treat me and I was starting to get really fed up with it. I hate how they treat B and how they treat everyone else around them. They know he's suffering and they don't do anything about it. They don't check up on him. Instead, they get other friends to pry information out of him about how he's feeling and then have them report it back to them. That's so wrong. That's so cowardly. B did not want you telling others his business, especially the girl he likes. WTF???? They are some of the most selfish people I've ever met. I was talking to my mom about it. I said, "Well, they're younger and 20, so naturally, they're gonna be selfish." She responded, "I don't know... when I was that young, I was never that selfish. I had my moments, but even then I was not that selfish. Neither were any of the other kids I went to college with." My therapist was even dumbfounded by the stuff I was telling her about them. She was even more furious at them than I was. She was upset that I was letting myself be treated that way and that I was blaming myself for all of it.

I guess the lesson I'm learning is that it doesn't matter what people tell you. They can tell themselves that they are mature and all that bullshit to make themselves feel better. If they tell you how much they care and blah blah blah, actions speak the loudest, and their actions reflect their true feelings. They do not care about anyone but themselves.

[iztarshi]

I'm curious about "Vexed to Nightmare".

This was vaguely a crossover between Utena and Silent Hill - or at least an Utena fic inspired by Silent Hill - with the slight problem that I've never played Silent Hill. Loosely, what if the metaphors in Ohtori became monsters a bit more directly than usual and started stalking people?

I don't remember much of what the plot was meant to be. I know Anthy and Utena returned and were trying to get in from outside - and I think the idea of Touga as a butterfly cupped in Anthy's hands originally went in this fic before finding a better home in The Butterfly Bride.

To be honest I think I cannibalised most of the ideas from this that were actually working into that, although it's a very different fic.

"Vexed to Nightmare" is a quote from The Second Coming by Yeats which feels somewhat appropriate with a sphinx in the desert being referenced in Absolute Destiny Apocalypse.

Snippet:

It’s hot, staticky hot, like the air before a storm when Nanami wakes. She throws her bedcovers off and rubs the sleeve of her nightgown across her damp face. It’s bright too, as if she’s slept until noon, and when she opens her eyes the light glaring through the window is white, like a floodlight.

‘Aliens?’ She sits up and scoots back against her pillow. If she goes to the window she might get sucked into a flying saucer and taken away to be experimented on! She’s read the stories!

Silly girl, still believes in aliens.

Why not, she’s like one, isn’t she?

‘Ah!’ Nanami claps her hands over her ears. There’s no one in her room, just the shadows cast by the light from the window striping across her floor like cage bars. She’s being silly. Hearing things, imagining things, she always lets her imagination get the best of her. But that light. That’s not right, is it? She cautiously puts her feet on the floor, overly aware of the texture of the carpet, and tiptoes over to the window, staying out of the harsh patch of light it casts.

Outside the sky is white. White and blank as the inside of an eggshell, radiating that too piercing light. Everything stands out against it like black shadows, as if the woods around the mansion are a cut-out of a forest. She shivers.

Nothing seems wrong except the sky and that’s a big except but Nanami’s attended Ohtori since she was six. Things happen and life goes on. She wouldn’t want to be the only one making a fuss about it. Time to shower, dress, wake Touga… no, he can wake himself. He never needed her anyway. She wonders if he’ll be worried about the sky? If he is at least it will mean it’s okay to be afraid of it.

She sighs and turns away from the window just as something lunges at her, nothing but a dark shadow in the corner of her vision.

She screams and throws herself under the reaching… blade? Hand? The thing looming over her is black as ink, a shadow in three dimensions. It looks like a girl, or like an insect, limbs elongated into points and waist pinched, with a jutting triangular head sporting incongruous ponytails. Nanami is back on her feet in moments, reflexes honed from duelling, and backing away. It’s barely bigger than her once she’s on her feet. It lunges again, foreleg hitting her dressing table and crunching through wood. She needs a sword. Her knees hitting the bed behind her feels like defeat, but she’s not so easily crushed. As it lunges again she whips up the covers, throwing them over it. It sweeps up a foreleg, shaking its head beneath the cover, looking for a moment like a bedsheet ghost.

‘Ha!’ Nanami says. Then she runs.

[enigma-im]

Tenth day of Christmas...

Trope: Soulmate

Relationship: Alien x Human

Word count: 5,282

A lazy Saturday night. No responsibilities, nowhere to be, just me, and my tv. I quickly change into my pajamas, ready to plop myself on the couch for the rest of the day. Grabbing my phone on the way out of my room I swipe through messages, ignoring a great portion of them in favor of total isolation. Just me and my shows tonight.

A chill runs over my neck before I hit my shin against something hard. Arching forward I cradle my leg with a restrained curse barely sitting on the tip of my tongue. I look down at the sudden coffee table before me, it's bright white design polar opposite to my dark aesthetic in my home. I glance around the room, running cold at the unfamiliar environment. Everything is bright and illuminated, the furniture the only dark thing in here besides the baseboards lining the walls. I gawk in utter confusion.

"Who are you," someone barks, rolling into a growl. I snap my attention to some…thing standing just behind me. I twist towards them quickly, taking a few steps back as I take them in. Tall is my first thought, followed closely by bright. The creature is an alluring shade of blue, a mix of dark and light around its face. The top of its head is skin like hair that looks slicked back. It's almost like dreadlocks in their thickness. Average looking human eyes but a long mouth with thin lips. If it wasn't for the human-like stature I'd assume this was some sort of monster. The clothes are a slightly comforting touch. All around it's a rather disgusting looking man…alien…monster…thing.

He takes a threatening step towards me, shouting again," Who are you? How did you get into my home?" I choke on an answer, still confused and lost. Jerking my head here and there I take in the room, still just as weirded out. Where am I? who is this thing? I curl into myself, panting heavily as I panic. The thing takes another step, catching my attention again.

"Answer me, human," he spits the words," How did you get here?" I flounder for an answer, gawking like a fish as I try to talk.

"I-I-I," I try to speak," don't know." He recoils at the answer, before looking stricken. His lips peel back into a snarl, showing off sharp intimidating teeth. I nearly whimper at the sight, feeling like prey at this moment. He charges at me.

"Out, out, out," he shouts. I take frantic steps back till my back hits a wall. He corners me easily, grabbing at my shoulders. I shut my eyes, clenching up for the oncoming attack.

I'm greeted with silence.

I peek open my eyes to see my familiar bedroom. Uncertain, I curl my hands against my chest and look around the room. I see my bed, my vanity, the slightly ajar door to my bathroom. There is no sight of the alien man. I quickly bolt to my closet, grabbing my bat before checking the apartment. I walk to every room, ready to take on the horrid monster.

I clock out of work, heading to my car. Hooking up my phone I jam out to some tunes while I sort my work attire out. Setting my name tag in the cup holder and tossing the apron to the passenger seat. Before I can press the brakes I see a light bright enough for me to force my eyes closed. I feel my seat sink, a weightless feeling taking me for a moment. I open my eyes.

Coming up empty I manage to circle back to my room, confused and hurt. I rub at my chest, trying to ease this great discomfort. Setting the bat by the door I curl up in bed, forgoing my lazy Saturday night.

It's weeks after the incident and I'm left feeling like it was all a dream. There were no odd moments after that one, surely it was some strange mishap of imagination. I actually begin to forget it as the month comes to an end, though a strange emptiness stirs in my stomach. The feeling is worse at night, leaving me to cuddle with my pillows to ease it minorly.

I look into the barely familiar room, clenching onto the armrest to a chair. Terrified I look all around, spotting the strange man in a small kitchenette. We make eye contact, both of us startled. He recovers faster than I.

"You! What are you doing back in my house," he shouts, storming over. I sink further into the seat, nails biting into the wooden rests.

"I don't kn-," I try to explain.

"I don't want you here, how are you coming back," he barks, angrier than our first meeting. I try to explain again but he shouts over me. His words are harsh, accusing me of things I didn't do. As I attempt to speak over him he just gets louder till I feel near tears with all the stress.

"Stop coming here, I don't want you," he grabs at my hand," how did you manage to get in here in the first place? Humans do not possess the wit to get here on their own, so tell! Answer me! How did you get here?" I tug on my arm, trying to get out of his grip.

"I don't know," I scream," I don't know, so please stop yelling at me." I feel ridiculous as I'm near tears but I feel the situation calls for it on some level. I didn't mean to be here, it's not my fault.

The man stumbles at my shout, letting me go as he takes a step back. I curl into myself, wrapping my arms around my body, and tuck my feet up on the chair. He watches me, angry but lost. I glare up at him, fighting back the stinging in my eyes. My chest feels sore.

"I don't know where I am and I just want to go home," I plead, gritting my teeth. He furrows his brow, sneering as he reaches out and touches my arm. Before I can attempt to fight back I'm back in my car.

Looking around the dark parking lot I fall lax once I realize my position. I whimper as an ache squeezes at my chest. Leaning forward and banging my head on the steering wheel I take a deep breath, then a few more.

There is sadly a next time.

Can't write that one off as a dream.

I wait for the next few days anxiously. Trying to convince myself of 'two is a coincidence, three's a pattern' does little to soothe me. I could only hope that those two incidents were flukes. My nerves try to get the best of me but I know better. I get angry every time I think back, mad at how some harsh words could get me near tears. No man, alien or otherwise, is allowed to get such an upper hand on me. I promise myself indifference the next time I see that jerk.

I'm taken from my shower, to my misfortune. Covered only in a towel I stand in the bright living room, flustered and angry. The alien stands before me, arms crossed as he gives me a once over. As his gaze meets mine he quirks his brow. I tighten the towel around myself, glaring all the while.

"Caught you at a bad time I see," he says nearly bored. I huff, walking around the chair to hide my lower self. As I twist around I catch him tilting his head to follow me with his eyes. I snap my fingers at him, catching his attention. "send me back," I demand. He recoils in disgust at my command.

"No, I'm not some servant to make a request from. Also, I need to talk with you," he answers. I scoff, twisting away. Talk with me? Does this conversation involve more yelling and blame? I'm wet, cold, and flustered. I've been tense all week waiting for this exact moment to happen and I rather not spend another second here.

"No," I grumble.

"Excuse me," he bites back. I turn towards him, sneering.

"No, I don't want to talk with you. Send me back and keep it that way," I growl, a tad proud at the sudden backbone I've grown. He scoffs, shifting weight to his other leg.

"Do you believe that I intend for you to keep coming back," he asks the rhetorical question," because trust me, I don't want you around as much as you don't want to be around."

"Oh really? Haven't noticed," I tease," you have been so friendly up until now."

He rolls his eyes," sarcasm, such a low form of wit." I bite my tongue from throwing a remark back.

"Doesn't matter, send me back," I demand.

"Not until we talk," he shoots back. I tense in pure frustration. I'm near-naked and confused, I don't need this right now. Twisting away from him I fold my arms over my chest. He can talk if he wants but I don't have to answer.

The alien sighs," if I give you something to wear then will you talk with me?" I check on him from the corner of my eye. He looks as tired as I feel at that moment. Reluctantly I nod.

He exits the room, coming back shortly with a long shirt. Handing it to me he turns around, leaving me to put the shirt on and tying the towel around my waist. I sit in the chair as he sits on the couch. The silence is almost as bad as the yelling. I clear my throat, trying to bait him into speaking first. He sighs.

"Well I think the best way to start is with an introduction," he shrugs," I'm Egil, a Birger."

"Hello Egil," I wave awkwardly, dropping my arm quickly," I'm Kari, a human. I think you knew that part though."

"yea," he scratches at his neck," I wanna make a deal with you, Kari. We are in a bit of a bind that makes this little teleporting thing common. You see, we are important to one another according to a much higher power. I never chose this, let you know that now, and I'd prefer it if this little…situation… wasn't permeant." I squint at him, confused.

"What?"

He sighs, rubbing at his face," my people have a very interesting power that most of the galaxy favors. With that power comes a 'blessing' that brings another being to us when the time is right. Now I thought this someone would be a, well, another Birger. That's clearly not right so I just have to make do. So I'm asking for you to bear with this little inconvenience for a little longer until it runs its course and we can go our separate ways."

I process his words, rolling them around in my head. A special someone? Am I the special someone? What does he mean by 'run its course'? I think of a proper way to articulate my words to get across how utterly lost I am in this conversation. I look between his beautiful lavender eyes.

"What?"

He drops his head in his hands, rubbing at his eyes harshly before he snaps," you are my mate and if we wait a bit then you will stop being sent to me. So I ask can we just be civil until this stops?"

I taste the words on my tongue," Soulmate?"

He rests his chin on his hand," sure, soulmates. That's not the point, do you agree to be civil until this all blows over?" my brain flips flops. I take a moment to actually let the words settle before I speak. I cross my legs, resting my elbow on my knees and leaning forward.

"So you have soulmates and you think I'm them-,"

"You are," he interrupts.

"- so you want to ignore it because of why exactly?"

"Because it won't work, obviously," he answers casually.

I quirk a brow," because I'm human or because you can see the future?"

He snorts, recoiling in mirth," do you want to be my mate?"

"No, of course not. I'm just asking because I know like thousands of people who would be jumping for joy in this situation and I'm trying to see if you don't see me as an option because your racist," I tease, baiting him a bit. He deadpans, not amused in the slightest.

"Deal or not, Kari," he asks.

"Yea, sure, whatever," I wave him off," are we done now? I'm catching a chill."

The few long conversations we have had were surprisingly pleasant. When he isn't being a grump he can be downright enjoyable to be around. I can almost see how we could work together but I trash that idea when he starts getting snappy again.

He scoffs," yea, sure." standing he reaches over and touches my shoulder, sending me back home.

The next month is filled with annoying moments of being sent away. At first, it was mainly when I was at home, which was better than later when I was sent from work. In those moments Egil is kind enough to promptly send me back. In my more relaxed moments, he pulls me into a conversation, though he sounds bored with it most of the time. I look on the bright side of these meetings, learning what I can about him and aliens.

I try to go on with my life as normal, going out with friends and shopping when I can. I've been blessed to not be taken away in front of everyone. Almost like the teleporting has some know-how on good times and bad times. Though the shower one will never be forgiven.

Lounging against Egil's couch I listen to him explain how his planet's seasons work. It was started with me complaining about the cold in my apartment. He seems to be in a better mood today, talking animatedly about his favorite season. I admire him, finding the twinkle in his eye charming.

"You know when you aren't being a grouch you are nice to be around," I say casually as he takes a short pause in his rant. He stumbles on his next words, turning to me confused.

"What? You think I'm a grouch," he asks.

I shrug, laying against the couch," you get in your feelings a lot and it tends to spoil a meeting."

"In my feelings? I don't follow."

I watch him fidget a bit," you seem to sulk into yourself and I can't get you out of it no matter how much baiting I do. I prefer it when you are speaking animated like right now. You seem to enjoy talking about science and the inner workings of your planet. It's nice." he flusters at the compliment. His cheeks turn a strange dusty purple. I smile to myself at the sight.

"Well, science is entertaining but many people don't care to listen to it often. I can't blame them, I can see how hearing someone ramble for hours about biology and the workings of plants during different temperatures. It's just so cool how the weather can drastically change how a tree will present itself. I mean it just knows the correct way to arrange itself to get the most it can from the sun and I ju-," he glances over at me, sighing," sorry, I'm rambling."

I wave him off," no, go on. I have nothing to do tonight and spending it alone in my apartment doesn't sound too exciting."

He chuckles," glad to hear I'm more entertaining than an empty living space."

Friday night I dress to the nines, truly trying my best. I'm not really optimistic about this becoming more than one date but a girl can try a little. I meet the guy at a set location, agreeing to walk together to dinner. When I see him I'm in awe at his look and my luck. I might owe my friend an apology and a thank you.

I shrug, gesturing for him to continue his rant. My chest feels a bit full when I hear him speak, which is far better than the empty feeling I gain when I'm sent home.

My friend kindly notices my melancholy as of late and sets me up on a cringey blind date. I couldn't help the depressed state I've been in lately. When she offered such a plan I was extremely reluctant. A blind date is for the sad and lonely, or socially impaired. I guess I would fall into one of the categories. I agree after a bit of encouragement.

We talk on the way to the restaurant, the conversation bright and exciting. The empty feeling I've felt lately is bearable in this man's presence. We get our seats and continue talking all through dinner. I'm tempted to invite him up to my apartment. Couldn't hurt to see where this will go.

I excuse myself to the bathroom before we leave. As I open the door I see the bright room I've gotten used to. My shoulders drop as I walk further inside looking for Egil.

"Egil," I call. I hear a creak behind me, twisting around I see Egil staring intently at my dress. Relieved, I step over to him," hey, I was in the middle of something important. Can you send me back?" he takes a moment to actually look up at me, quirking a brow.

"You look…fancy," he says his words carefully.

"Yea, I'm on a date. So can you send me back please," I ask again. His eyes trail down to my dress again, his head tilting as he appraises me. As my words sink in he snaps his attention back to me.

"A date," he frowns," with who?"

"A friend of a friend. I don't have time to talk, he is waiting outside right now. So please," I reach for him. My hand falls on his wrist, tugging him forward. He follows, looking a mix of frustrated and confused.

"Where are you two going," he asks instead of grabbing my shoulders. I huff.

"My place, now please," I shake his hand. He swats me away.

"Why you two going to your place," he asks like an upset father.

"Egil, I'm not going to spell it out for you. Now, please," I reach for him again. He grips my wrists, a tad too hard. His gritting teeth are the last thing I see before I'm back at the bathroom. I walk in feeling sick to my stomach. Passing the mirror I look at myself for a second.

It's a long while before I get sent back to him and it's a rather strange time. I head to bed that night, snuggling up in my sheets.

Why was he so angry?

I don't meet up with my date again after that night. After the meeting with Egil, I feel a little mixed up. He is always a grump, that's normal, but this time was more than mild annoyance. Was he angry with me? That idea picks at me. Why would he be angry?

I wake shortly later to some loud thud. Groaning I twist on my bed, running into a wall I wasn't prepared for. Confused, I look at the couch I'm strewn across. I sit up looking around the dimly lit white room.

"Egil," I call out tired. I get no answer. Getting up off the couch I step around towards the kitchenette spotting Egil sitting on the floor lounging against the cabinets. "Egil," I catch his attention. He bobs his head up, smacking it lightly against the wood behind him.

"Oh, great, it's you," he pulls a drink up to his lips," how was your date." he spits the words. I take in the scene before me, Egil sitting disorganized on the floor with an unknown bottle in hand. He sways a bit, looking distraught.

"Are you drunk," I ask.

He chuckles," of course. What else is there to do at a time like this?"

"Sleep, if I had to suggest something," I joke, more nervous than amused right now. He snorts a loud laugh.

"Funny," he points at me, waving his drink around," one of the traits that bruise me so easily. Like a fruit falling out of a tree and hitting the ground too hard." I quirk a brow. Alright, he is drunk.

"Poetic, I think it's time for you to get some sleep," I crouch before him," you think you can make it to your bed after you send me back?" he sneers, rolling his head against the cabinets.

"Always with that damn demand," he takes another swig," I don't want to do that anymore." I huff. I guess I'm relaxing here tonight. Reaching forward I grab his arm to tug him up.

"Alright, time for bed, Egil," I help him stand. He stumbles as he gets to his feet, bumping into me. I steady him, holding his waist. He takes the moment to swing his arm around me, nearly making me fall as he drops on me.

"What was that outfit your wore the last time," he mumbles near my face, the stank of his alcohol burning my nose.

"My dress," I ask as we make the trek to his bedroom.

"Yea, the dress," he grins, giggling like an idiot," I liked it."

"Thank you, my mother got it for me," I answer as we reach his door. I swing it open, tugging him in. He bumps and nudges me till he falls onto his bed. I take the relief to catch my breath, he is a rather heavy and sloppy drunk. Couldn't hold at least some of his own weight?

He turns onto his back, kicking off his footwear with a dopey grin on his face. Sliding up the bed he looks to me, gesturing me over. In my experience with drunks, this I what we call a bad idea. I take a step closer, still a good enough distance to get out of reach. He gestures me closer. I don't budge, he sneers. Snatching my wrist he tugs me closer, using his other hand to cup the back of my neck. My face is uncomfortably close to his.

"You have the prettiest eyes," he pets at the back of my neck," like weeping gems in the deepest caves of Turmore. Which is fitting because your beauty is so grand it nearly makes me weep in pure joy." I glare at him utterly confused. I gulp hard.

"Are you always like this when drunk," I nearly squeaked. He shrugs, dropping my wrist to pet at my face.

"You bring out the weird in me," he scrunches his nose.

"Ok," I grab his hands and push them away," you need to sleep, I'll be on the couch." I try to take a step back but he pulls me back.

"No," he whines, pulling harder. I fight against him, trying hard not to fall on the bed. With a well-timed tug, I'm pulled against his chest and twisted onto my back. Leaning on his forearm and stretching the other on the opposite side of my head he glares down at me. His stare is hard and focused unlike before. I look between his eyes, waiting with bated breath for his next move.

Egil lowers himself till his lips are near my ear," I want to tell you something."

"y-yea," I try to turn to him but my cheek bumps his. His answer is to kiss my cheek. My heart flutters in my heart like a loose door in a storm. I'm stuck between uncomfortable and uncontrollably excited.

"I don't like our deal anymore," he bumps his head against mine," I feel more and more idiotic for suggesting it."

"why," I shift back to look at him. His eyes are barely open, either from the drink or something else. It doesn't look erotic but he keeps acting this way. He shifts so he can grab my hip, petting me with his thumb.

"I was stupid," he falls to his side, resting his head on his pillow," I was scared of you. Now I'm terrified of you."

"What," I ask offended. I try to crawl out from under him but he circles his hands around my thighs and rests his head on my chest.

"You like our conversations and you're really funny. I don't want to stop seeing you," he rubs his face against my shirt," please don't stop seeing me." his grip a bit harder, trying his hardest to not let me have an inch to get out. I pet at his head, trying to placate him.

"It's alright," I coo," I'm not leaving, I'm right here."

He grunts," for how long?"

"let's just live in the now, Egil. Let me up and try to get some sleep, I'll be here in the morning," I try to push him off. He clenches harder, looking up with his chin pressed against my sternum.

"You can sleep here," he suggests.

"No, that's not appropriate," I scold. He snickers, leaning up and pressing a kiss to my neck.

"Neither is pushing your mate away but I already did that," he makes me shutter as he licks my skin. I take a deep breath, very caught off guard with his attentions.

"How about we talk about this in the morning," I offer," just go to sleep." he grunts, pressing his face in the crook of my neck. I can't bother to try and push him away, somehow enjoying the weight of him on me. I pet at his head, trying to lull him to sleep.

"Good night, love," he brushes his nose against my jaw.

His eyes flutter open, closing as he grins. He stretches, tugging me close, and bumping his head against mine. It's after a moment that he stiffens, pushing me away as he sits up. Laying on the opposite side of the bed I watch his startled expression. He looks from himself to me then the bed. His features strain into a frown.

I sigh," Good night, babe."

I wake the next morning to soft snoring rumbling near my ears. Taking a deep breath I peek my eyes open, looking at Egil lounging on me. His arm is thrown over my chest, hugging me close to him as he sleeps. I take the quiet moment to admire him, look at his lax features. The urge to pet his face is strong. I give into it for a moment, feeling his soft skin on his cheek.

"Don't get grumpy," I yelp. He relaxes partially, more confused than anything.

"Why are you in my bed," he asks.

I chuckle half-heartedly," I've heard a similar question when we first met."

"Kari," he says sternly," please explain."

I fluster, grabbing the blanket to cover most of myself," I don't wanna."

"Why?"

"Because you might get mad or embarrassed," I answer. That doesn't seem to help as he scoots farther away.

"Kari, I'm asking nicely, what happened?"

I nibble my cheek as I debate answering. Surely sober him wouldn't have the same ideas at drunk him. Does he honestly want me to stick around? Will he want to hear about how he kissed and licked my body before falling asleep half on top of me?

Will he still think my eyes are pretty?

"You got drunk. That's it," I answer quickly," I put you into bed and you didn't want me to sleep on the couch because you are so kind. So you let me use your bed and here we are."

His brow furrows," Is that all?"

I hide under the blanket some more," No."

"Kari," he scolds," what did I say?" I debate lying, saving his feelings-and mine- from this recap. Nibbling on my cheek I try to gain some courage.

Peaking over the blanket I ask," do you really regret making that deal with me?"

Egil stiffens, grabbing a fist full of blankets in a harsh grip. I wince at his discomfort. I bet if he regrets anything right now it's saying that last night. He takes a moment for himself, looking towards the room before meeting my eyes. He sighs, dropping his chin towards his chest.

"Yes, more than anything," he grumbles. I nearly pop up from under the blanket like a whack-a-mole.

"Really," I ask," I mean, why?"

He winces, shrugging as he thinks of an answer. "I don't know. A lot of reasons. I just think not having you around anymore would be…a great loss. Having you as a friend has been great and I don't want that to end."

"You want to keep me around as a friend," I ask, feeling a stab at my heart for such a lacking suggestion. Does he only see us as friends? I don't want to be brazens and assume that we can be much more but…it couldn't hurt.

He sighs," No, I don't think I could muster the strength to keep things platonic with you. Especially after seeing you in that dress."

I grin," better than the towel?" he peaks at me, giving a teasing smile. It feels easy to talk with him like that, the tension already ebbing away.

Feeling brave I shift the blanket off myself and crawl over towards him, stopping as our legs touch. I hesitate to touch him, using stubborn courage to grab at his hands.

"Egil," I start," I don't know a lot about all this and you suck completely at trying to explain it. Yet, I can feel something here and it's beginning to grow. I really want to know now, before it's too late, if you honestly want to give this a try. Ever since the night with the dress I haven't been able to get that angry scowl out of my mind. I don't want to ever see you angry. Grumpy is fine but angry, I can't handle it. It made me realize that I want to make you happy and being here with you is the one way I know for sure that I can make that happen. So, do you want to try?"

Egil squeezes my hand, watching me in harden focus. I wait for his answer, craving his answer. The battle is clear on his face as he tries to think of something, anything, to say. In the end, he just grabs my face and tugs me into a kiss.

It's surprising at first, to feel his thin, long mouth against mine. Yet, his sweet taste draws me in as I cup his face. He tells me all I need to know in just a simple action. Though he is a man of many words, this moment didn't demand such talent. I part from him to rest my head against his.

"I want a date night with you," I smile, feeling silly demanding such a thing.

"What's a date night," he asks.

"Dinner, movies, cuddling and kissing on the couch," I answer. He nods, thinking about it.

"Will you wear that dress again," he perks up. I press a sweet kiss to his mouth.

"If you want," I smirk.

"Then it's a date, hopefully, I'll get to see you in the towel next time," he flirts. I scoff, playfully hitting his chest. He laughs, tugging me into a hug and another kiss. I pet at his cheek, smiling like a dork.

"Maybe if you play your cards right, I'll be in less than a towel."

He growls in excitement.

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I A VENOMOUS INTERLUDE

Did y'all know symbrock is canon? Well, now you do. Reader's favourite deadbeat surrogate uncle is in town and he brought a... Friend. No warnings, just a boatload of crack and fluff, as usual. Reader being mouthy. Takes place a little bit into the future - around after chapter 32: spoiler alert is useless because we already know a tonybrucestrange/reader quartet is the endgame. 💖💝✨

"What," I had to pause for a second for my brain to catch up with my eyes. "The fuck?!"

It was truly a miracle I could say anything out loud, at all. Words weren't valid enough to describe my shock and confusion. The scene unfolding in front of me resembled and unholy cross between a B-rated horror movies about demonic possession and some deep-sea Eldritch monstrosity.

The eight-feet tall black, oozing dude in front of me? Yes, you, with the teeth. Ctulhu called, he wants his tentacles back.

The creature honest to god rippled, like some nightmare-fuel goth Jell-O, rapidly shrinking in size within seconds. As more of the black tar-like substance receded, a much more human form started to appear under it. Worn jeans, leather jacket, ungroomed beard and the look of a biker gang member coming off a serious bender.

"Uh, Princess?"

"Eddie. Fucking. Brock. Uncle Idiot." I punctuated each word with an increasing widening of my eyes. The world was fucking nuts. Two and two did not compute - Eddie might have looked threatening to some people - like white suburban Karens - even without the... Gooey squid-on-steroids thing he had going on. The man was built like a fucking brick shithouse, but I knew him way too well. Eddie couldn't be that badass to save a life.

"You two know each other?" Tony shrieked indignantly, a coarseness in his voice that indicated only one thing: my boo was well into his third drink. Hell, I didn't blame him - that gaping toothy maw was fucking gnarly.

Hands on my hips, I caught myself slipping into a mute rage, storming over to the 200lbs worth of pure dumbass and knocking him right in the face. "You! Didn't tell! ME!" A black tendril wrapped around my wrist, carefully but firmly securing it and preventing me from causing my non-related uncle any more physical damage. Although I must admit, my knuckles probably were more affected than his jaw. "You! Are! A MUTANT!!! HOW COULD YOU?! How could you NOT tell ME?"

I trusted the man with my soul and most embarrassing drinking stories. Hell, I called Eddie in a stoned haze the very same night I lost my v-card. I just thought we were bros, you know? I saw his whole fucking life implode more than once and personally flew to California to ice his injuries and his hurt ego countless times. I was done dirty in the worst way.

"I'm not-" Eddie's sigh was long-suffering. "I, uh, I have a parasite..." He sounded meek, in the same way he used to describe his drunkenly misconduct when I made our family driver bail out his ass outta jail in the morning.

"TAKE THAT BACK!" A deep gravelly voice thundered, seemingly coming out of his chest?

"Okay, okay," Eddie smiled. It was strangely soft and un-eddie-like. The only person he smiled like that was... used to be Anne. "This is Venom. They're an alien and we're, uh, a thing. It's a recent development." The tentacle unwrapped itself from me as I took an involuntary step back.

Even barring the fact that Eddie was dating an alien, this was way too fucking weird for 3 o'clock on a Sunday. I always knew the reporter was, for the lack of a better word, a little weird but he really took it to new heights. With Thor and Loki looking... Like that, I could see a human dating some sort of a hot alien. But with Ctulhu looking the way he did just minutes ago? Did Eddie seriously let all of those teeth in close proximity of his dick?

I had a "ERROR 404, common sense not found" hanging over me for the longest time. The others were quiet behind me, too, even Tony - one of my boyfriends, the most likely to cause utter chaos, was hanging back and expecting me to do something.

"Venom," I clarified, just to fill the silence with some noise while my brain processors re-synced.

"WE ARE VENOM." The tentacle that was sleek and black now had two completely white eyes and a smaller-scale version of the toothy grin that had drooled all over the common room carpet. Their voice had an interesting effect: it was so deep, the air around them vibrated slightly when they spoke.

I tilted my head examining the appendage. It was considerably less terrifying when it wasn't five times my size. "What are you?" And most importantly, are you a threat to my favourite non-related family member? I left that statement unspoken although it was obvious I was ready to fight it? Them? If need be.

"A SYMBIOTE," They replied, swaying the head-tentacle slowly. "WE LOVE EDDIE AND KEEP HIM ALIVE AND HEALTHY." So, they understood the actual question.

"Which is fucked up because Klyntar usually behave in the opposite way." Hearing Thor swear was, perhaps, even more unsettling than finding out about the symbiote-alien-boyfriend thing my uncle had going on. The thunderer himself was nursing a jug of golden liquid. The good Asgardian stuff, he must've been really fucking bamboozled.

"Okay. So anybody wanna fill me on the details before I beat up my favourite idiot?" I sighed, pointedly looking at Tony.

"I thought I was your favourite idiot!" He immediately retorted, hurt, but nonetheless opened his arms to give me a grounding embrace. We may have sucked face for a few seconds, because why the hell not, Tony was an amazing kisser and his tongue down my throat was very calming.

"Hold up, what the fuck?" Now it was Eddie's turn to act all offended. "Aren't you a little too young for him?"

"You and your most likely carnivorous goth space pudding can fuck right off if you're not going to be supportive of my very inappropriate, very polyamorous relationship with three incredibly hot boomers," I shot back, slipping into some resemblance of normalcy. Me and Eddie go way, way back and shitting on each other's bad life decisions was the founding stone of our bromance. Hell, he was the guy who showed me the wonders of sarcasm at an early age! Wonderbaum!

"There's three of them?" Eddie's voice pitched and he gaped, palming his face.

"SHE HAS A POINT, EDDIE. WE EAT PEOPLE. BEING UNSUPPORTIVE WOULD MAKE US LOOK LIKE AN ASSHOLE." Eddie's buddy stated, sounding almost fed up. So, they were sentient enough to recognize how much of a pain in the ass Eddie could be. I could work with that, disregarding the cannibalism comment, of course. What the fuck was up with that?

"Yes, Eddie, I also periodically bump uglies and trade disgustingly sweet text messages with the Hulk and a badass wizard," I rolled my eyes at the reporter's following gasp and angry muttering. "Venom, I like you."

"WE RETURN THE SENTIMENT. YOUR CHOICE IN MATES IS VERY WISE, CONSIDERING YOU ARE A WEAK MORSEL. THEY CAN PROTECT YOU."

"Shut up, Squid. I'll still kick your motherfucking ass if you hurt Eddie."

The emo space goo laughed, a terse scratching noise, showing way, way too many teeth for me to feel comfortable but I allowed myself to be placed on the couch between Tony and Eddie nonetheless. The initial shock of seeing a talking octopod with fangs passed quickly - I've seen Stephen's "trophies" he brought from his otherworldly journeys and Lovecraftian horrors were, honestly, pretty low on the gross/creepy scale.

"Both of you, explain. For the love of fuck," Tony sighed, emotionally exhausted and drained of his usual bravado.

"Eddie was my dad's friend until he moved to Cali, I've know him for fifteen years, give or take. He taught me how to ride a bike and bake the best pot brownies," I shrugged. There wasn't much to say. "I visited him whenever I could but you know, with school and then you guys, there wasn't that much time to iron out the details." I have Eddie a death glare, pointing to Venom's floaty head with my eyes.

Eddie nodded. "What she said..." And then launched an elaborate tale about some company called Life Foundation, some evil dude named Drake and his own alien pudding named Carnage, who was one ugly motherfucker judging by Eddie's and Venom's combined "ew" face, their aching need for human brains to survive and other, more trivial things, like mental breakdowns in a lobster tank and getting dumped by a fiancé and eating their way through a HYDRA base after being captured and tortured. What a wild fucking ride.

"Sounds like you had a rough year," Everybody's dumbfounded silence was ended by Tony who took a slow swig of his whiskey before speaking.

"Yeah, no shit," Eddie muttered, twisting his black coated fingers in elaborate but frankly pretty shapes. His alien wrapped around his neck like a tube scarf and additional tentacles appeared between Eddie's hands, gently prying them open and enveloping them in a sort of a hug? It was hard to compute, the black mass appeared to be totally amorphous.

"How's your anxiety?" I asked, damn well knowing Eddie's mind tended to run like Tony's: zero to sixty in point five with no clear destination. Having an alien inside of him must've really thrown Eddie for a loop.

"It's, uh, better. Venom helps," The reporter admitted, still staring at his hands but the crease between his brows had disappeared and the expression he wore was kind of fond.

"Good. You know, Venom," I thoughtfully addressed the definitely sentient creature. "Eddie is a bigger dumbass than me, which is saying something. You ought to keep a really close eye on him. If not for me, he'd probably be dead from alcohol poisoning, like, years ago."

"WE ARE AWARE. WE CAN ACCESS EDDIE'S MEMORIES." A head manifested itself on a thicker tentacle, floating over to look me in the face but maintaining a respectful distance and staying out of my personal space bubble. "AND WE ARE THANKFUL. EDDIE IS THE PERFECT HOST. WE LOVE EDDIE."

I felt the corner of my mouth tilt upwards at the alien's proclamation. It was child-like in its blunt honesty but carried a certain weight with it. It told me whoever tries to separate those two in any way would get eaten faster than they could say "SIKE!". And honestly? I would help Venom hide the evidence.

"I literally had you for thirty minutes but I would kill everybody and then myself if you two got hurt. This is too soft, I can't." I snorted, extending a curious hand towards Venom. They looked so shiny. I had to touch them.

And they let me. Venom butted their head into my palm and let me gently run my fingers over their slightly cool, slippery flesh. It felt like putting my hands on a surprisingly sturdy yet bouncy piece of flubber. I purposely avoided the small maw and the endless rows of sharp teeth but managed to accidentally brush against something rough and scratchy - as it turned out, the Symbiote had a very long, very dexterous tongue. And didn't that give me a bunch of interesting mental images.

"Oh my God, NO!" Wanda moaned from somewhere, the voice mortified and disgusted.

"Why are you touching the people-eating alien?" Bruce yelped, entering the room with several people in tow. The scientist looked worried, a little bit green around the edges. The tablet in his hands beeped periodically, signifying the ongoing sciencing bender he was in process of.

"WE WOULD NOT EAT THIS HUMAN. WE ARE FOND OF THE MORSEL." Venom defended, well, venomously. Eddie wisely choose to stay silent, trading a knowing look with Tony.

Stephen Strange sighed, briefly closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose with a jagged movement. "One day, Princess, one day you will stop collecting people that are obviously bad for your health and your future. That, or space in the tower will simply run out." With a deeper, calmer sigh, the sorcerer landed in front of me on the floor, sitting cross-legged and subtly begging for a head scratch. Which meant just placing his always neatly trimmed curls under my free hand. His jealousy was about as subtle as a foot in the face.

"I'll just ask Tony to build more floors, duh," I rolled my eyes with force at the obvious solution, giving into Steph's demands, beginning to card through his hair. It was calming both of us, really.

Bruce came over to give me a kiss and my other boyfriends didn't even grumble about the scientist placing himself in my lap, crawling over both Tony and Stephen to get comfortable.

Our dynamic was unconventional and more than a little weird, but it worked for us and the rest of the team most certainly didn't complain about the vast decrease in conflict that came with the territory. Come to think of it, all of us were more tactile than just a group of friends sharing a house and I was very much on board with that. None of us except select few (looking at you, mister doctor) were hugged enough as children and we were making up for it in spades right fucking now.

"Girl has a type," Wanda remarked, like the messy little shit she was. I stuck out my tongue in retaliation.

The Avengers' brain trust began talking about Venom's slightly inconvenient diet that directly resulted in multiple felonies for one Edward Brock, and as much as I tried to follow the flow and make my own, however feeble, contributions to the scientific side of the conversation, the new life form was much more interesting. I asked Venom several questions and they deemed them acceptable enough to answer - which evolved on both of us absolutely geeking out over the differences in our physiology. The space pudding didn't hold back one bit, insulting the inferior human biology with gleeful gusto.

"They need a chemical called phenethylamine," Bruce sighed, having deduced it through discussion since Venom and Eddie both protested aggressively against any kind of invasive testing. "I can synthesize it. No more head-chomping, no more murder."

It made perfect sense. Except it didn't. "Brucie-bear, you're a brilliant fucking scientist but a shit psychologist." I interrupted whatever came next. "Venom is a person, like me and you and, yes, even Hulk. Tell me this: if you found a way to get rid of Hulk, would you stop sciencing in the gamma radiation field?" I looked my boyfriend straight in the eyes, hoping for a spark of common sense. "Do you see my point? You science, Tony engineers, Steve draws and Clint bakes. Venom hunts. It's who they are, you can't give them a pill to make it go away."

The weight of my word landed in the room like lead, heavy. The only source of sound was the TV, playing the news quietly in the background for the longest time. Those few minutes felt like hours until Thor expectantly turned towards Eddie/Venom.

"IT IS SO. WE ARE AFRAID WE CANNOT INFLUENCE OUR INSTINCT TO HUNT PREY. KLYNTAR ARE APEX PREDATORS." The little black goop sounded almost apologetic. It was hard to hear undertones with their voice being so deep and grating. "BUT WE CAN TRY." Okay, I could totally hear the hope. Finding out the Eldritch horror could make puppy eyes was... Terrifying, to be honest, because they fucking worked.

"Got any better ideas?" Tony asked me sarcastically.

"I do, actually." I leveled a look with Natasha. She understood. "HYDRA goons. The aliens that, for some reason, keep invading New York every month or so. Stephen's adventures in Hell. Do I need to continue?"

"Wait, hold on," Steve raised his palms. "We don't kill HYDRA, we deposit them in SHIELD custody."

I snorted at the naïve Captain. "And what do you think happens to them there? Did you honestly think they just let torturing, murdering, world-domination planning psychos back on the streets?"

Steve frowned in confusion. "They go to prison?"

Natasha choose that moment to step up. "It's not uncommon for them to possess certain enhancements to be deemed too dangerous to be released back into society. Some of them are low-tier mutants and inhumans. Trust me, Steve, the lethal injection is a much more humane treatment than solitary life imprisonment in a ultra-high security prison." Romanoff stated with a trace of compassion. "And some mutants, we can't contain for prolonged periods of time." She added quietly, looking away.

Rogers was staring blankly into the wall, mulling over the information in his head. His intensive thought process was plainly visible on his face. I heard about some kind of fiasco with HYDRA agents suicide-bombing a city in Europe few years ago and Steve was there, along with Wanda and Sam.

"Venom is a whole person, and even if they look like they could be the main character in Call of Ctulhu video game, we can't just disregard them like they are some kind of badly behaving pet. They're my honorary uncle's boyf-sorry-significant other, for fuck's sake," I threw my hands up in the air in exasperation. "Y'all should know I don't fuck with people who give shit to one of my own. Don't disappoint me like that." I finished, feeling more tired than I had in months. I didn't regret giving into the found family dynamic, however I didn't exactly sign up for hard choices like them vs my long lost uncle, y'know?

Great, now I had a headache and three very concerned boyfriends glaring at me for unknown reasons. The urge to pace always manifested strongly within me as the emotional atmosphere rose in the room. With Bruce dangling off my lap, I couldn't do even that and I felt the restlessness blossom into irritation more and more with each passing second of my existence.

Eddie remained silent, looking down. Venom had mostly receded into the reporter's body, save for a few tentacles tightly wrapped around Eddie's palm.

"Alright," Steve suddenly said. "We can work with that."

"Princess, you look like you're either going to cry or yell any second," Bruce said softly, squeezing my shoulder and pulling me closer.

I immediately hid my face in his chest, taking several deep, shaky breaths. "Eddie is family. Y'all are family. It's terrifying to have to choose between the two." I said, after a brief moment of hesitation.

The reporter made some sort of a choked gasp, quickly masking it with a cough - I knew him way too well to miss the way he was fighting back tears of his own. Bruce understood, he really did understand me - hopped off my lap and let me hug Eddie properly, my happy-sad tears soaking through the collar of his tee.

"You're, uh, welcome to stay. I'll have a guest room prepared." Tony cleared his throat, passing his half-finished glass to Stephen who swallowed the liquid in one gulp. My boyfriends were so fucking emotionally illiterate. Disaster humans.

Huh, I really did have a type.

Later that night, I made the mistake of barging into Eddie's room with a bottle of really fancy whiskey I liberated from Tony's overstocked liquor cabinet. Visiting my uncle and boozing and smoking on the balcony, for old times sake, was my plan and...

I failed the mission successfully.

I didn't bother knocking. As soon as I saw a pair of bare feet, my eyes traveled further up on the couch on their own volition. There were so many tentacles, a writhing, oozing silky black mass and Eddie was making sounds, unmistakable noises-

"UNSEE. UNSEE. OH MY GOD, UNSEE, UNSEE." I stumbled back into the common room shivering.

"What happened, is everything okay?" Bucky stood up as soon as he saw me enter the doorway with my face scrunched in a grimace of regret. I felt like I've gone through the five stages of grief in the shortest time possible for a human being.

Somwhere, I heard Wanda's sudden moan full of pain and misery. "Please, stop THINKING about it!"

"Brain bleach, oh my God," I cringed. "Where's the Clorox?! I have decided I don't need my eyeballs-"

"Oooh," Tony's proverbial lightbulb lit up. The engineer sounded like he was about five seconds away from building a space ship and permanently moving to another planet. "They're together-together..." Tony intercepted me nonetheless, doing the most effective thing to make me stop speaking and thinking bullshit. He kissed me. With lots of tongue.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @cutenessloading @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie @mikariell95

[secret-ssociety]

Let me down pt.3

Pairing(s): Peter Parker x Reader (platonically), Reader x oc

Warnings: I mean, in my eyes this is pure fluff, but who knows if it will hurt you

Summary: Peter and May have dinner with Y/N’s family, prompting a lot of questions to get an answer.

A/N: oKAY, I know that what happened wasn’t exactly what you expected and and it has taken me so long to write this but it's finally here. I want to thank you all, I never meant for this blow up like it did or to even become a series, honestly when I wrote the first part I was just in a really bad mood and I felt like writing something sad and that came out, but then people started to ask for a second part and well the rest is history. So yeah, I actually want to write even more parts to this so let me know if you would like it. Also, I tagged everyone who asked me to write more to this, but let me know if you want to be removed from the taglist

Masterlist

part one part two

Peter couldn't help but feel like his head was spinning as he walked back home from the metro that night. Claire had sat him down in her bed for almost an hour showing off all of her Avengers stuff. She had a replica of Thor's Mjolnir (and she knew how to pronounce it, which was even more impressing), she had the Spider-Man's Uno she had mentioned (it did make him kind of emotional to see a drawing of him on the package) and she had Iron Man's full suit.

Yeah, he did his best not to cry with the last one.

Even if she hadn’t ran up to you screaming ‘mommy’, he would’ve known that she was your daughter. Claire had your hair, your eyes, your nose, even when the rest of her tiny face was more like Mark’s. The corners of her eyes wrinkled the same way yours did when you smiled and she was as energetic as you, she got lost in her own thoughts just like her you used to do.

He had been counting the seconds to be out of your house and be able to break down on the guardianship of his loneliness, but when he found himself walking down the street after dinner... he just didn't.

Peter had gone to school that day being sure that as soon as he saw you, something would be okay, and even if it hadn't gone according to the plan, he hadn't been wrong. Something was okay: you were okay. You had a career, a good job, a loving husband, a perfect daughter, a beautiful family.

You had a great life and, most importantly, you were willing to welcome him in it, so yeah, maybe things were going to be okay.

So when Claire asked him to dinner with them again at the end of the week, and you said you wanted to say hi to May, he just couldn't refuse. That's how he ended up standing in front of your house again, with May by his side this time, holding a cherry pie they had placed and decorated on a plate as if to pretend they hadn't bought it from the grocery store.

As soon as the door opened, Peter handed the dessert to May, because he was prepared for the moment Claire jumped to his arms to greet him. You smiled openly at May, trying to blink away the tears in your eyes at the sight of the woman who had given you a place to call home everytime you felt like your own house was not it.

Both Peter and Mark noticed how you tried to keep your composure when her arms wrapped you in a warm embrace.

"Sorry, I'm a mess," you muttered in apology, trying to wipe your eyes without messing up your mascara.

"You look beautiful," May corrected, making your eyes wet all over again. "It smells amazing," she said suddenly, changing the subject to give you a chance to calm down, "what are you cooking?"

"Oh, I'm not cooking," you clarified rushing them inside, Peter still carrying the little girl in his arms, "Mark is. I somehow manage to burn the water."

"You could always make PB and jelly sandwiches," Peter said with an amused smile, earning a fond laugh from your lips, as if you shared an inside joke.

Only when Mark received the pie from May's hands did Peter notice that he was wearing a purple apron over his white unbuttoned shirt, and he couldn't help the sting in his heart at how perfect he was. He kindly apologized at the fact that the meat still needed a few more minutes on the oven, because he had been held back a little longer than expected at the office.

"What's that smell?" You asked, frowning.

"Daddy, the aspargaroos!" Claire exclaimed instantly, clearly unaware of how to pronounce asparagus, as she wiggled to let Peter know she wanted to be back on the ground. The tiny human ran behind her father into the kitchen, ready to do the damage control.

You decided to grab a bottle of white wine (and another Capri Sun for Peter) while her husband and daughter tried to resolve the asparagus crisis. He tried to pay attention to the conversation the two women in front of him were maintaining, but it was like they were talking in some foreign, alien, grown up language he couldn't understand.

This time, you took a little longer to finish your glass of wine than the last bottle you had opened, which had been a week ago when Peter had showed up in your doorstep. You were trying your best to hide your excitement talking to May, but you couldn't help the profound feeling of pride that took over your chest when you saw her eyes glimmer with amazement as they explored around the living room, where the pictures and prices of all of your family's accomplishments were displayed.

Peter was the first to notice Mark come out of the kitchen with a sheepish smile, "alright, so, the asparagus isn't salvageable, er, how do you feel about KFC salad?"

That's how they found themselves sitting at the round dinner table eating steak with a mushroom sauce Claired had been the one to think about, roasted potatoes and KFC salad, because apparently the always ordered some extra salad on their takeaways and stuffed them in the fridge.

"So..." May started, eyeing the young couple nervously. "There is so much to talk about. How... you... well..."

"How did I end married and with a kid at twenty three?" You finished for her, saving a sigh to yourself although you felt your husband tense a little beside you. The more you two heard that question, the more annoying it got, even when you knew May didn't mean to offend you.

Of course you knew you were young, and that many people your age couldn't handle such commitments, you didn't need people telling you that constantly. You had heard the same discourse from teachers, employers, even neighbors you had never talked to, it quickly got old and you tried not to become aggressive everytime you heard it.

Mark and you had a happy, healthy marriage, with a wonderful daughter that had brought light into a world as dark as yours was since the blip. You had good jobs that allowed you to have a stable economy and also take care of your family. You were happy, what else mattered? If you wanted opinions or needed help, you would certainly ask for it.

You never once had.

Still, you responded kindly, "well, we met in college, Princeton," you mentioned, earning two proud looks from your guests. "We were in different programs, so we met specifically through a praying group."

"That had never really been my thing," Mark picked up, "praying and all that God related talk bored me, but most of family and friends had been blipped... I was lonely. So I thought maybe I should give it a try."

"I honestly thought he had gone for the food, because when the meeting was over he looked like he hadn't understood a single word."

"Because I hadn't."

"A friend and I decided to come and talk to him, but after she left we hung out a little longer," you tried to hide the cheesy smile that took over your lips, but you looked over at Mark, who hasn't trying to hid his, and couldn't. "I don't know how to explain it, something about that moment just felt" you shrugged shyly "right."

The memories of you staying on the library, hiding behind the stacks of books so that no one would notice you trying to stay inside after it closed and talking the whole night long never failed to raise goosebumps along your skin. He would offer to read for you when your eyes got tired of working with the dim light that entered through the window, even when he was a law major and didn't understand a single word on the neuroscience and robotic books you were always studying.

It was soon after getting to know him, you just knew Mark had been made for you. There was something in the way you could see in his eyes that crowds freaked him out and that he tried not to cry after talking to his mom in the phone, something in the way he understood your whimpers in the days where anything above a mutter was just too much, that you knew this awkwardly tall curious guy was meant to cross your path.

"Things moved pretty fast after that," you continued, hoping you hadn't zoomed out for too long, "like 'we got married eight months after' fast."

May did her best to hide her surprise, while Peter choked on the salad. Was listening to your loving tone as you told the story easy? No, not at all. He wanted to throw up. Peter was still hopelessly in love with you, even when you were now five years older, even when you had a husband and a child, even when it was ridiculous and impossible, because for him it hadn't been years, it just had been months.

"Claire came soon after that," Mark concluded after pouring some more juice on Peter's glass and asking him if he was okay. "And all of this happened throughout college?"

"We had a really good support system," he nodded, smiling down at Claire, who had made a mess over her chicken sandwich. "A really good amount of friends willing to babysit whenever we had to work, understanding teachers who let us bring Claire to our lectures. My mom and Y/N's parents were also a great help."

"We were both on scholarships that gave us some allowances to support ourselves each month, too," you added. "It wasn't much, but it helped."

"And what are you working on now?" May switched to a conversation that would probably be easier on her nephew.

"Well, Mark is an associate on a buffet in Manhattan," you said grabbing your husband's hand. "What's your approach?" Peter asked, somewhat genuinely curious.

"Environmental law," he replied proudly.

"And I-"

"Mommy builds robot limbs!" Claire exclaimed excitedly, prompting a laugh on the others.

"Before I graduated, I got a job as lab assistant on a research for neuro prosthetics," you explained, "and after graduating, they hired me as researcher. Basically what we're trying to do is to create a non-invasive implant we can connect to the brain and spinal cord that controls robotic prosthetics for people who have lost limbs or return movement to paralyzed body sections."

Peter's skin prickled at the description of the research, for it was one he had known before it all went crumbling down. A memory flashed through his eyes, Tony helping his friend walk after he had been injured in Germany, on his first mission.

"That's..."

"A Stark Industries' research, yes," you nodded solemnly.

"Y/N told me you had an internship with Tony Stark before... it all happened," Mark commented carefully. Peter's head practically snapped in his direction, then, more subtly, in yours. You shook head slightly, almost imperceptibly, but clearly enough to let Peter know you hadn't told his secret.

"You met Tony Stark?" Claire asked him with a bright light in her eyes, one that Peter had seen thousands of times on other kids that, very much like himself, dreamt every night of robots and technologies that could change the world.

"Yes."

"How was he?"

Peter thought for a few seconds about his answer. What was Tony Stark? He was charming, sure, but he wasn't exactly friendly. He was a genius, yet he had never let that cloud his judgement. He had trouble expressing himself, but he always made sure the people around knew how much they meant to him. Suddenly Peter understood why Shakespeare was always making up words, there were just some things, some people, the english language wasn't extensive enough to describe, so he said the best he could come up with.

"He was the most amazing guy I ever met."

You smiled down at your nearly empty plate, it was impossible to forget how much had mr. Stark meant for Peter. Even when you guys broke up and cut off all communication, you still prayed for him to always be under the wing of his mentor. You couldn’t imagen what it was like for Peter to live in a world where Tony Stark was no longer there to help him walk through life.

Hopefully, you would be able to do that in his absence.

taglist: @eridanuswave @iam-thevillain-of-thisstory @lovely-geek @princessdancingonthesunshine​ @marvel4geeks​ @hedwigprewett12​ @dummiesshort​ @alyssasanchezz14​ @amillionfandoms-onlyoneme​

[r3b3lgrrrrrrrl]

A LunaTic and Her Gunn (Part 115 1Xs2) True Intentions

@crystalbaby12 @backoftheroomandnotbelonging @5sosfam1dlover @rosefilledhearts-blog

"What the hell was that all about?" Slim asks Colson once he's back on his feet.

"Talk to that snitchen' ass bitch over there." Colson glares at Pete who's still holding Kevin.

"Me?" Pete looks around himself and the alien with a snort. "If I was the snitch she'dve kicked me not you, BITCH." He deadpans.

"Can you two just shut the fuck up for a minute and tell me what started this shit?" Slim demands, becoming frustrated over their bickering.

"Dickhead told her I said something to him about her affair." Colson shoots a dirty look at Pete as he rubs his shin.

"Don't even try to put that on me... Cuz ya did. And obviously to other people too." Pete shoots back, cocking his chin over at Slim and his knowledge instead of shock.

"You better watch your mouth, Davidson." Colson growls.

"Ohhh nooo!! You gonna kick my ass?" He mocks by waving his free hand in fake fear. "I'm fucking outta here. See ya, Slim." They exchange nods as he turns on his heel to walk up the slanted road.

"You and your alien better stay the FUCK away from her!" Colson shouts from behind him.

"YOU SHOULD DO MORE STAND UP BECAUSE YOU'RE FUCKING HILARIOUS!!" Pete cackles the rest of the way up the slight hill with Kevin in tow.

"STOP." Slim puts his hand against Colson's chest firmly before he can react. "You know you don't wanna fucking fight Pete... Tell me what's goin' on." He advises his old friend as he drops his hand and lights up a Backwood.

"I let some shit slip to him and instead of shutting the fuck up he ran his mouth to her." Colson huffs in anger and frustration.

"Where you think she went this time?" Slim asks as he passes the blunt and notices that it's beginning to rain.

"I don't fucking know... Anywhere?" Colson shakes his head as he takes a deep pull.

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

Pete calls Luna immediately once he's inside of a cab. "Yo... " He starts to lay into her once she answers. "You cheated on Justin? Who the fu... "

On the other end of the line, Luna's blood begins to boil. She's ducked under an awning out of the rain. Annoyed, she pulls the phone away from her ear and looks at it before replacing it.

"Are you my boyfriend?" She quickly cuts Pete off. "Have you ever been my boyfriend? No, I don't fucking think so. Therefore, don't call me up questioning me about some shit that has nothing to do with you. I don't owe you or anyone else an explanation so fuck off." Luna hurls out before hanging her phone up and turning it OFF.

"Why Colson?" Luna sighs heavily as she leans against the brick wall. "Why do you have to be so fucking petty sometimes." She begins to rummage aimlessly through her bag. Lighting a joint, she takes a break from the rain while staying lost inside of her own head.

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

"Where the fuck could she be?" Colson wonders to himself after searching The Brownstone for Luna. He's called her a dozen times but it's going straight to voicemail. "FUCK." He sighs, rubbing the back of his head.

It's 330A. They have a call time of 6A. Standing on their front stoop, Colson Snaps Luna. Walking back inside, he doesn't know what else to do.

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

Luna spends the night skating through The City with a bottle of Jack. Contemplating on to do with her feelings for Colson. There's a certain trust barrier that's been broken between them and Luna's unsure of how to handle it. EVERYTHING inside of her is screaming that he'll be the cause of her downfall as tears sporadically drop like the rain around her.

"It's not like you'll leave him." Luna angrily pushes off of the ground as she continues to glide through the streets. "This shit is way more intense than before." She acknowledges to herself what she's been avoiding. That she's bound to Colson in a deeper way than she ever felt to Justin. She's known it since that first night at The Gramercy. "He's gonna hem you up." She continues to argue with herself and the bottle of Jack as she floats around the familiar scenery of Brooklyn.

It's almost 5A when Luna finally shows back up at The Brownstone. Colson had dozed off while sitting up on their bed. She stares at him when she comes in as new tears form. Quietly gathering her things, she heads into the bathroom to shower. Locking the door behind her. Finally turning her phone back ON there's a ton of missed calls. She opens the single Snap from Colson.

Huge tears fall as she stares at his face. "MOTHERFUCKER." Is all she can think. Knowing in that moment; regardless of what the logic in her brain keeps trying to say, that Colson has her heart. Stepping into the running shower Luna's shoulders heave under the weight of the water and her tears. "I can't breathe without my heart." She shudders at the thought of losing him more than her own freedom.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"You're back." Colson opens his eyes to the sound of Luna chopping up pills in the bathroom.

"Yeah." She calls out simply as she snorts two thick rails of powder; a line of three 30mg Percocets and one of two 30XR Adderall.

"Where've you been?" Colson asks cautiously as he climbs off of the bed.

"Out." Is her only word as she comes into the bedroom to continue getting dressed. Throwing on a pair of his joggers and a tight, black tank. "We've gotta go soon." She tells him flatly when he reaches for her.

"Loon... Please." Colson lightly begs as their eyes meet, causing her heart to ache.

"You need to shower. There's 30s for you on the sink." She answers quietly before walking out of their bedroom.

Colson throws himself back on the bed in frustration, laying there for a couple more minutes before getting up and going into the bathroom. His head is pounding and he got barely any sleep. Turning on the water, he steps into the shower and let's last night's funk rinse off of him. With his back leaned against the wall, his hand automatically goes for his morning wood. Lightly playing with himself he grows harder as his mind drifts to the last time him and Luna were in their bathroom together. Pulling firmly on his thick cock, he starts to breathe heavier as he puts one hand out on the wall to brace himself. The memories of Luna's warm mouth making him burst.

"FUCK... How am I going to fucking fix this..." He worries as he does his daily slew of morning drugs and finishes up in the bathroom.

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

"Who is THAT?" Rook pants when he sees Jackie strolling down the street towards them.

Dressed to kill as always, her short wavy hair flows as she glides along in a pair of black leather pants and a simple, black Givenchy T shirt. Large, thin metal earrings and an oversized leather bag top off her fierce look.

"Morning Loons!" She leans in for a bright kiss to the cheek.

"Hi Jack." Luna kisses her back before she greets Sam and is introduced to The Guys.

They're standing behind ABC Studios while Rook continues to salivate over Jackie. His sweet little mouth can't form a word to speak to her as everyone bullshits and makes pleasantries. Colson tries to lace his fingers inside of Luna's to which she pulls back. Catching her eye, he feels a soul shattering disconnect.

"We gotta go." Luna announces as she heads towards the front door.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"There is no backing track." Luna argues. "That's the whole fucking point of a live performance."

"You have no pre-recordings of it at all?" The GMA staff member continues to question her.

"No. It's a brand new song that we're giving YOUR show the EXCLUSIVE to." Luna reiterates the significance. "You know what? I don't really give a FU... "

"Okay... Let's all just calm down." Jackie's sweet voice comes in from behind Luna. "The ONLY song specified in the contract is Bad Things, meaning my client and YOUR guests have the choice of the second song with no stipulations. If you'd like to get your lawyers, I'll happily contact Miss. Smith's and Mr. Baker's also." Jackie squeezes Luna's shoulders as she stares at the staff member firmly.

"Lemme check with production." Is all he can say with a shaking head before walking away.

"Where did that come from?" Luna turns around amazed.

"I told you and Monica, I got this." Jackie smiles slyly.

"I knew I made a good choice. Thank you!" Luna gushes with a smirk as she squeezes Jackie into a tight hug.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"And now, Machine Gun Kelly featuring THAT Brooklyn Bitch!!" Robin Roberts introduces them to the cheering crowd. "Performing their hit single Bad Things!"

Luna, Colson and his band are set up on the outdoor SummerStage placed on the corner of Broadway and 44th St. It's 8A in the morning, they're both tired, wired and fighting. They've fought before but neither has ever been this miserable during a performance together. Both are dressed down, easily showing off their mood to anyone who knows them. Him in a white Hotel Diablo T and ripped jeans while she's wearing a simple, goldish slip dress with her Docs. The only jewelery she has on is his padlock and engagement rings; bringing him slight relief.

The show must go on though... And it does. As always. Luna opens up on the keys easily. Wrapping her voice around the opening chorus as the masses below her sing along. The Boys are electric. Rook roaring away as Baze keeps the rhythm while AJ and Colson slide over their guitar riffs before Colson kicks in for his first verse.

One Look.

With the slight catch of The Eye, that's it. Well, at least OnStage. They fall into step with each other too easily, toning it down for morning television slightly; the chemistry and pure fire between Luna and Colson is still undeniable in their performance. Taunting and teasing each other as they roam the stage and command America's living rooms. As always, they end with Colson scooping Luna up for a kiss.

"I love you." He says lightly as he leans in.

"Mmm... I fucking hate you." She lowly coos with a sweet smile while kissing him back on the cheek for the crowd and then disappearing SideStage for not only a commercial break but to get her shit together around Colson.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"Bad Things is doing extremely well for the two of you." Robin compliments them.

"Yeah, we're really proud of it." Colson smiles, using this as an opportunity to slide his arm around Luna's shoulders.

"It's off his album Hotel Diablo that just dropped July 5th. You should check it out, it's such a deep story that you can't help but be engulfed by it's journey." Luna plugs as she wraps her arm around his waist and rests her hand on Colson's chest out of instinct.

"Is there gonna be a tour?" She asks Colson.

"Hotel Diablo, baby! We did one earlier in the summer and we're headed across seas next month. Hopefully we'll hit another one stateside when we get back." Colson answers as he pulls Luna closer.

"FUCK... I hate him so FUCKING much." Luna screams mentally as her whole body throbs for Colson. His arm around her bare skin is like ice cream on a hot summer day. Melting and sticking to her soul. She wants to hate him but she can't. On all levels. Physically, mentally and emotionally. He fucking has her.

"So do you guys go on tour together?" Comes another question.

"Yeah, for the most part." Colson looks down at her for support.

"Bad Things is one of the regulars on his set lists so if I'm not working on another project, I'm usually with him." Luna admits.

"Aww... That's gotta be a lot of fun for you guys." The unknowing host assumes. "And today you're gonna debut a new song for us?" Robin grins at the roaring crowd. "Is this off Hotel Diablo also?"

"No." Luna speaks again. "This will probably be off my upcoming double album." She informs the public for the first time.

"A double album? Wow!! When can we expect that?" The host asks with a shocked response as Luna ignores her, moving away from Colson and grabbing her electric. "Well, don't let me hold you up." Robin nervously laughs. "Gracing us again... THAT Brooklyn Bitch and Machine Gun Kelly!!" She introduces them to the LIVE audience's wild applause.

Luna looks over to Sam first. Then Baze. Tuning her guitar she tosses an Eye to Colson. It's unamused and asks if he's ready as she adjusts the mic. His eyes say more than Yes and kills her soul.

Luna makes her guitar whine before Baze evens her out and Sam kicks in with the her steady, quick paced drums. Sliding into the main rhythm, Colson's guitar punches in to match hers. The beat is raw and powerful while Luna's deep voice brings it back to it's inner melodic tune.

🎼They say //He likes a good time//Well so do I//He comes alive//At midnight//That's when we thrive//My friends //No they don't trust him//Ask me why //They say he's into//Bad Things//But so am I🎶

Luna rips a mini solo while swirling her hips with the beat as Sam pounds away. Colson and Baze continuing to balance them both out. Luna stepping back up to the mic to lay the first official verse.

🎶A little bit older//Hates my//Black leather JACKET//Both got bad reputations//With insatiable HABITS//He was on to me//One Look//And I had to leave//Cuz//As soon//As he kissed me//We popped off//And were CRACKEN'🎶

Luna grabs the mic as Colson changes his chords to back her. Glancing over at him again he catches her eye before she unleashes her furry. This performance has such a different feel from when it first originated.

🎶THEY TALK//ALL THIS SHIT//'BOUT HOW//I'M A BAD GIRL//TONIGHT//IMMA SHOW YOU//WHAT IT'S LIKE//TO MEET HER🎶

Sam drops her beat to a low rumble. Baze kicking in with the same electronic ripping sound from Floor 13. His bass jarring through the air as Colson continues to play through the chords and move across the stage towards Luna.

🎶They say //He likes a good time//Well so do I//He comes alive//At midnight//That's when we thrive//My friends //No they don't trust him//Ask me why //They say he's into//Bad Things//But so am I🎶

Luna can't help but drop her head against Colson's shoulder blade as they lean back to back against each other. Both ripping their guitars and thriving off of each other before he takes over her mic. Hearts pounding as he lays his piece.

🎶Look... //She the type//To break//Your ass bad//Have you runnen' //Quicker//Than one of //Mr. White's bags//I be rockin' wit//THAT Bitch//You know she//Be rockin' wit me//You a special//Type of dumb //To think//You can stop her//From doin'//What she please//The kind //To whoop your ass//Then have you//On your knees//Looking up//Still begging//Like come on//Kiss me please //Don't say it too loud//Cuz that's MY girl //So trust and believe//That I won't wait//Or hesitate to//Jack you up too//Like a mini //Slim Shady🎶

Luna steps up face to face with Colson to the mic as his words make her pussy drip. There's that ALWAYS present electricity between them as they both continue to rip through the song together. Luna staring at him with THAT One Look. Giving her a sly smile he kisses her cheek before she kicks in and he backs away to let her focus.

🎶THEY TALK//ALL THIS SHIT//BOUT HOW//I'M A BAD GIRL//TONIGHT//IMMA SHOW YOU//WHAT IT'S LIKE//TO MEET HER

HE'S ROCKING//THAT BOX//AS HE'S MAKING//ME PURR//WE'RE SO OBSCENE//HE'S GOT ME//SAYING YES SIR🎶

Luna grins at Colson as he steps closer to her. Their guitars playing off one another's as their bodies pulsate from being so close to each other. Her pussy swells, wanting him just as badly as he does her. She can't help herself; it's like a fucking deficiency.

🎶They say //He likes a good time//Well so do I//He comes alive//At midnight//That's when we thrive//My friends //No they don't trust him//Ask me why //They say he's into//Bad Things//But so am I🎶

The four of them unleash their instruments. Sam slamming into the kit as Baze leans into his chords. Colson head banging while he slashes on his guitar as Luna continues to play while belting out the lyrics.

🎶MY OH MY//OH MY OH MY//They're calling you//The Devil, Baby//MY OH MY//OH MY OH MY//That makes me//Your Persephone//Without the maybe//MY OH MY//OH MY OH MY🎶

Luna's up at the mic as Colson teases her with his guitar. As much as she wants to be mad at him she can't help but smile again as she sings about him. Cocking her lip, her voice snakes around the lyrics as she glares at him and her body dies for his touch.

🎶They say //He likes a good time//Well so do I//He comes alive//At midnight//That's when we thrive//My friends //No they don't trust him//Ask me why //They say he's into//Bad Things//But so am I//So am I//Yeah so am I🎶

Their instruments taking over again before rounding out to a grand applause. Sam rumbles in the background as Colson throws his guitar over his shoulder and grabs Luna around the waist through hers. She can't help but grin as he plants a solid kiss on her lips.

"THAT Brooklyn Bitch and Machine Gun Kelly!!" Rings lowly in her ears amongst the screaming behind them.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"Just shut the fuck up." Luna kisses Colson through their words as she pulls him into their dressing room.

Turning around, she bends over the closest object. It's the arm of a couch. Hiking her tight dress up, she pulls down her black panties as Colson presents his rock solid dick.

"Kitten... " Colson tries to speak as Luna works him into her with her hand.

"Unh Unh." She mumbles, tossing up the other arm to indicate his silence.

Slightly offended, Colson grabs Luna's hips and pushes himself into her deeper. Making her moan and slightly shake. Showcasing his authority, he wraps his fist inside her long blonde hair. Controlling everything about her as she bucks against him. Luna's walls tighten as they both draw closer; reaching around from behind her, she grabs his ass. Clutching it in her nails, she keeps him in place as she slams herself into his hips until they both equally explode.

"Fuck Loons... " Colson sighs as he kisses the back of her neck.

"Mmm... We've gotta go." She tells him again for the third time today to his dismay.

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

"I need you to call Lee Foster. Let 'em know I'm coming and that I wanna use Studio A... If it's booked I'll comp the artist's next two sessions." Luna tells Jackie once they're all back on the NYC streets.

"I don't know who that is... " She hesitates.

"The manager of Electric Lady Land Studios... Just mention my name along with what I said and we should be good." Luna quietly explains. "Meet me at the storage unit later?" She then asks before throwing her hand up for a cab to Jackie's nod. Luna turns to Sam. "Hey... Change of plans. We're gonna record here. Jack's trying to book us now. See that Mike's cool, please?" She asks of her.

"Yeah. No problem." Sam responds easily to Luna's Thanks as her and Colson climb into a cab.

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

"Electric Lady Land Studios, hunh?" Colson tries to make small talk with Luna for the first time in their lives. "How you gonna get in there?" He asks.

Luna turns to him with standoffish eyes. "I own part of it." She states flatly.

"Seriously?" He asks in disbelief.

"Yeah. I've been a silent owner since I was 18yrs old... There's A LOT you don't fucking know about me." She sighs loudly as she pulls up her black hoodie and looks out the window.

"She has so many fucking secrets... " Colson sighs to himself as he looks out his own window. Inching his fingers across the seat for Luna's, there's less than a half inch between them and he can feel the heat. Before he can touch her, she lifts her hand and lays it in her lap.

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

Arriving at Monica's office in Lower Manhattan, Colson and Luna meet up with his personal lawyer Cyrus. Placed in a private room they exchange introductions and pleasantries while waiting for Monica. Luna and Colson both still feeling off kilter.

"Hey!" Monica greets them with a rushed smile. "Sorry I'm late... How is everyone?" She asks as she scans the tense room.

The signing is quick. Holding nothing of Colson's or Luna's in the contract; only Robert Maplethorpe's personal catalog, it's exactly what they spoke about. Before they know it, Colson and Luna are back out on the pavement. Neither questioning their choice surprisingly even though this felt more like a business transaction rather than anything remotely personal.

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

"Come're... " Colson reaches for Luna's waist after they walk out of a stupid ass Starbucks; refusing to buy a coffee she has a strawberry smoothie.

"No." She declines as she shakes him off of her hips.

"What the FUCK, Luna?" Colson demands, growing tired of her coldness.

"REALLY?" Luna bites back.

"Yeah REALLY. We just fucked and signed our God Damn PreNump... So yeah, WHAT THE FUCK?" He throws his hand up in the air in frustration and shakes his head.

"YOU FUCKED UP!" Luna snaps while grabbing the tip of her hoodie.

"THEN WHY'D YOU FUCK ME!?!" Colson shouts at her in annoyance. "OR FUCKING SIGN ANYTHING!?!"

"BECAUSE I FUCKING LOVE YOU!!" Luna screams before throwing her smoothie to the right of him. It hits the wall and splatters everywhere just like she had intended; her aim is rarely off.

"WHAT THE FUUUUUCK!!" He yells as little spots of pink goo land on him.

"Go tell Pete and ask him how to clean it out." She snarks before jogging off across the street.

"YOU'RE SUCH A FUCKING BITCH!!" Colson screams after her as she gets into a cab.

"She's fucking insane. She's fucking flat out fucking insane." Colson stews as he looks at his tainted shirt. "Where the fuck is she going though? I swear to God I'm gonna fucking kill her one of these days." Colson sighs with a frustrated mind as he pulls his phone out to call Mod and find The Boys before buying a new shirt.

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Part 1 of 2

To be continued...

[derl30]

ALTERED STATES REVIEW TIME!

OK, this tumblr is, today, a vehicle for me to review ALTERED STATES. And you (the one person who stumbled on this review two-hundred years from n- oh who am I kidding, when the aliens from A.I. who show up to thaw out Haley Joel Osment and the teddy bear who was the real hero of that movie find this) should be very excited about this. Because this movie is insane. And highly entertaining.

Yes, the movie poster looks like ass. If I told you this was a movie where William Hurt (not the William Hurt from that awful 90's Lost in Space remake, or the one who slept through an entire performance as Duke Leto in the Syfy miniseries of Dune. This is before the body snatchers got him) took ayahuasca and got in a isolation tank and it blew his mind so hard he started devolving into a neanderthal and creating dimensional portals and he couldn't stop because he was addicted to finding the truth of existence... Well you wouldn't get that from this poster, would you? So let's move on. Shall we?

The film opens in 1967 with William Hurt's character, psychopathologist Edward Jessup, already immersed in a sensory deprivation tank, whilst his colleague and “buddy” Bob Balaban (he's just Bob Balaban in everything I'm not giving you his character's name look it up yourself if it's bugging you so much) oversees.

Now, you may notice I put buddy in quotes. The reason for that is that Jessup is a self-obsessed ass who seemingly has no reason to be around other people unless he can expound to them one of his various monologues. Bob Balaban barely gets a word in edgewise throughout the entire film. Bob Balaban.

See, Jessup loves the sensory deprivation tank experience. Unsurprisingly, as it allows him to be completely alone with himself for hours.

Later, at perhaps the lamest party ever, a bunch of faculty are chilling out and listening to the Doors. Everyone we see is talking about Jessup. Why? Well, much as Jessup is obsessed with himself, everyone else seems to follow suit by being obsessed with him. One young woman, Emily, (Blair Brown) is introduced to him in this very shot below as he arrives at the party:

Notice how is framed in holy light? There is a closeup after, of him framed in blinding glowing light followed up with a zoom in on Emily's face, enraptured with this incredible dynamic man. So much so that the moment he tries to make a goddamn sandwich she starts grabbing his celery (get your mind out of the gutter) and flirting with him. Which for these two that means talking science, immediately. Talking more at each other than with each other. This is often the way with Paddy Chayefsky's scripts.

PAUSE

Paddy Chayefsky is doubtless one of the great American writers for the screen. He wrote Marty, The Hospital and Network (which is a fucking incredible piece of work). He got an Oscar for all three. He also wrote this movie (Altered States, remember? Good lord) and disowned it completely three weeks in to production. His scripts tend to have very intelligent, driven characters at the center, who monologue extensively at each other. These scripts are not attempting to sound naturalistic.

Ken Russell, however, directed the film. He, like Chayefsky, is top notch at what he does (Direct. I said he directed the film like a second ago, come on keep up). His films, like Women in Love, The Devils, (which was banned in several major countries upon release and has never been shown publicly in its full, uncut form (by the way it's a masterpiece)) the Who's Tommy, Gothic, and Lair of the White Worm are all fucking gonzo nuts. I mean like, when you gave this guy the reins, you were going to Overthetopsville and there will be no stops on this trip. And god bless! I love directors who GO for it!

You're getting the chance to make a movie. Stop hemming and hawing and hit me over the head with what you want to say! Film is a visual medium, USE IT!

I feel I might have made my feelings clear here. So, moving on...

Ken Russell and Paddy Chayefsky immediately started butting heads, right from the start. Chayefsky was a BIG deal, and he wanted control over the picture in a BIG way. Ken would listen to his suggestions on everything to lighting and set dressing, and politely tell him, “No.”, and continue being the director of the film. Chayefsky hated him pretty quickly.

He had much more control over films like The Hospital. Which, if you watch The Hospital, well, it shows. You've got great actors (George C. Scott, Dame Diana Rigg (Dame may be the greatest official title of all time)) saying great dialogue. But its just two very witty bitter people sort of expounding on topics and speaking at each other and suddenly admitting they are in love and discussing what drapes they will have to buy for their new home. It's utterly preposterous, and it doesn't work in the way Sidney Lumet got it to work in Network, by literally making one of the lead characters realize his life is turning into a ludicrous soap opera.

So of course Ken tried to humanize, naturalize, the dialogue sequences. And it works! The film feels more human than the Hospital or Network. Despite the fact that Jessup is literally becoming more and more inhuman throughout the film. One of the ways he does this is by having the character's eat, drink, and work on other things during the dialogue sequences. This is perfectly normal in film, it's called giving the actor “business” to do, during the scene. Chayefsky HATED this. “They are mumbling my precious dialogue! Chewing through it! Sucking it through a straw!” Sorry, Chayefsky buddy. It works for the picture. Chayefsky also felt the actors were too emotional with his dialogue. Right. See, they call that acting.

UNPAUSE

Which brings us back to the first meeting of Emily and Jessup at the party. They are eating during this important scene! I can just picture Chayefsky seeing this, and running to the studio brass to tattle and get Ken Russell fired (as he got Arthur Penn of Bonnie and Clyde fame fired before Ken Russell came on board).

Emily and Jessup are, true to Chayefsky form, extremely intelligent, driven people and hearing them discuss topics such as anthropology and schizophrenia is quite interesting. It's just that what is to come, film being a visual medium, will eclipse just about any dialogue, no matter how good, from our mind thingys.

The two give up on the science talk and go straight to banging on her couch. After, she asks what he was thinking about. His answer is priceless. “God. Jesus. Crucifixions.”

She smiles.

Bwahahaha! Oh Paddy Chayefsky, you sure know women.

He admits he used to have religious visions. She listens to him from the sweaty couch whilst he sits naked on the floor, and starts going on about his father's horrible death of cancer and his loss of faith. And he admits to her that he's a nut. Her response is to call him a fascinating bastard. I think Lucas may have taken notes for Padme and Anakin.

So naturally, they get married immediately.

But none of that matters because Jessup gets back in the sensory deprivation tank and has his first vision. A nightmare of his dying father and lost faith in christianity. It's pretty great, filled with foreboding hospital rooms, his father's face being covered in a burning Shroud of Turin, everything covered by horrible blood red clouds and then THIS FUCKING THING SHOWS UP AND ITS ALIVE AND WRIGGLING

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

excuse me...

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

The many-eyed goat is slaughtered over a gold bible and suddenly Jessups screwing Emily again and we enter a blood vessel looking thing and the vision ends and he never mentions this again. Oh. Okay,

Emily continues on about what a nut Jessup is as they make marriage plans. Her monologue:

“You're an unmitigated madman. You don't have to tell me how weird you are. I know how weird you are. I'm the girl in your bed the past two months. Even sex is a mystical experience for you. You carry on like a flagellant... Which can be very nice, but I sometimes wonder if it's me that's being made love to. I feel like I'm being harpooned by some raging monk in the act of receiving God. (Emphasis mine)

"And you are a Faust-freak Eddie! You'd sell your soul to find the great truth. Well, human life doesn't have great truths. We're born in doubt. We spend our lives persuading ourselves we're alive. And one way we do that is we love each other, like I love you. I can't imagine living without you. So let's get married, and if it turns out to be a disaster, it'll be a disaster.”

It's a disaster.

As in, by the next scene. It starts off happy enough looking, they have kids and people are smiling. And hey, wow it's seven years later! But, well, see, whoops, they are getting a divorce. Well, not they. See, he is divorcing her because he considers the seven years with her a complete waste.

She still loves him, desperately. He doesn't give a shit about her or the kids. He tells Bob Balaban this, straight up. And then starts bugging him about deprivation tanks and Hinchi Indians in South America who have sacred mushrooms that can really fuck you up.

It's at this point you would like for Jessup to be hit by a Mack truck. But the movie continues on. By the way, this is one of the kids he doesn't give a crap about:

That's right. Drew Barrymore's first role is a kid that William Hurt doesn't give a shit about. Something that William Hurt would make a career out of with narcoleptic performances in Lost in Space and Syfy's Dune. So, Emily takes the kids to Africa for her anthropology work while Jessup goes to South America to go deeper into his own creepy mind.

The Hinchi Indians agree to allow him to participate in the drug ritual. They enter their holy cave.

This shot is beautiful. At this point the film becomes increasingly gorgeous. Ken Russell has started to go into overdrive, ladies and gentlemen. Buckle. Your. Seatbelts.

The Indians grab Jessup's hand and cut him, freaking him out. They pour his blood into the drug mixture. They begin to drink. Then he takes a sip. The intensity of the film here has quadrupled. The vision begins, fireworks going off all around him. He sees cave paintings of humans and komodo dragons and this:

The proper life he left behind with Emily. He's convulsing, sweating. The Indians are all around, masked. Snakes. He's laughing in pain. Energy spills from the void. A snake under the parasol strikes and begins to strangle him. He and Emily march toward a nuclear explosion as energy pours from the cut on his hand, becoming a lizard. From within a sandstorm, Emily watches him, naked. Jessup looks at her, entranced, as the soothing sands cover them both, slowly.

It's a beautiful sequence. A perfect film sequence. I can't overstate how strong the vision sequences are from this point forward. Great visual effects work and the madman mind of Ken Russell create something unforgettable, with it's own pace, independent from the rest of the film.

Jessup awakens with a komodo dragon laying before him, ripped to pieces. The Indians and the others all claim he killed it in rage. Jessup remembers nothing, takes samples of the drug to reproduce it, and goes back home.

Back home, Jessup keeps doing as much of the drug as he can and having Bob Balaban record results. They can't up the dosage any more so Jessup hops back in to the self deprivation tank to create a more extreme experience.

In his next session, Jessup states he is having a vision of early man, hunting a deer and killing it. Suddenly he states he is one of them, killing the deer. He begins to grunt like an animal. The two pull him out. He's incredibly pale, blood seeping out of his mouth. He can't speak, and has difficulty breathing. He insists they do an X-ray. It shows that there is a vocalizing lump in the front part of his throat. Jessup claims that his body had begun to revert to a simian state. The medical doctor agrees, stating the throat X-rays looks like that of a gorilla.

Luckily his throat returns to normal. So Jessup finishes up his day by having over a student of his and sleeping with her.

Our hero, people!

At this point we hardly feel sorry for him as his body suddenly begins to twist and bulge in the middle of the night, shifting in and out of neanderthal shapes. It's a horrific sequence, disturbing as hell. You certainly didn't expect the film to shift into body horror.

Jessup feels normal after a while. but sees visions of lava explosions, the birthing of the Earth all around him. Not a good sign.

He goes to pick up Emily from the airport the next day. She asks how he is doing.

“Oh, fine.”

Yeah right.

Emily has been told what Jessup has been doing and is worried, which of course pisses off Jessup even more. The guy is obviously obsessed with reaching the truth and root of existence, much as Emily surmised earlier, and we see he has no fear of even losing his own soul, again true to her word. The only thing that allows us to give a shit about him at this point is that Emily cares for him and she's decent people, okay?

So back Jessup goes into the tank with his ayahuasca or whatever it is. Alone. The tank door opens from the inside.

The hand that pushes it open is covered in thick hair. He's devolved.

Ape-Jessup escapes the tank room and chases a janitor around the building. Again, this scene is fucking freaky as hell. We can't get a good look at this screaming animal that was Jessup.

The janitor gets a guard to help and chases after him into the boiler room, where we finally get a good look at him when he assaults the security guard and escapes.

AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

Ape-Jessup runs through the city at night, making his way to the zoo where he kills a antelope and eats it. The Ape-Jessup sequence goes on way too long, but is nonetheless unforgettable. The makeup is much more convincing than the above picture suggests, and whoever performed Ape-Jessup did an admirable job.

The cops find an unconscious Jessup in the zoo and bring him in. Emily picks him up and questions him. Jessup admits everything that he can remember. He also admits that he probably killed that security guard. And once again doesn't seem to give a shit. Prick. He calls it the most supremely satisfying time of his life.

Even Emily seems disgusted with him. But, she's also fascinated with what he's accomplished. As an anthropologist, his transformation fascinates her. And so, she agrees to help oversee his next session. Big mistake.

Before the big session Emily and Jessup romantically reconnect, and then into the climactic session we go!

Get your popcorn ready!

After a few hours in to the session, the video monitor shows Jessup begin to literally melt apart like goo, reverting to primordial ooze, the very beginning of existence. An attempt to open the isolation tank doors blasts everyone unconscious, as light and energy pour forth. Emily is the only one left. She sees Jessup's life energy pulse from within the tank.

Rain pours down around them. The pipes on the walls twist and turn like jelly. The ground is covered with a pool of swirling fog and energy. Emily advances toward the vortex of the tank.

In the emptiness of the beginning of everything, Emily seizes the energy before her and reconstitutes Jessup.

They take him home. While he sleeps, Emily rages over the fact that she loves such a insane bastard, and can't get over him. And, then, after Bob Balaban leaves, leaving Emily alone, Jessup wakes up.

He sweetly admits that the truth he learned was that there was no learnable truth, just unknowable horror, and all that's real is human experience. And he'll be a good boy from now on. Well too bad!

Because that horrible truth isn't done with him, and it's back to goo-Jessup! Emily tries to help him, grabbing him, but this in turn effects her, turning her into a shimmering lava form of herself. Both of them begin to self-destruct as Jessup, enraged, watching her in pain, struggles to retake his humanity, slamming himself into the wall, reforming himself through sheer will and physicality. He grabs her and brings her back, mirroring what she did for him during the final session. They embrace naked in the hallway. He finally admits, “I love you, Emily.”

Fade to credits.

Awww true love!

What can I say to sum up? Awesome 80's practical effects. Genius wacko go-for-it Ken Russell directing. Out of this world vision sequences. A awake and actually remarkable performance from William Hurt. An occasionally turgid but often fascinating script by the ever ornery Paddy Chayefsky. Whats not to like?

Well, the ending is a little rushed. The ape sequence goes on for a little too long and takes up perhaps too much of the films overall running time. The central love story is, well... a little hard to swallow, but hey, I guess there really is somebody out there for everyone. Even self-absorbed, deadbeat, cheating, sensory deprivation loving, ayahuasca dropping, Harvard teachers with a messiah complex!

And on that note, aliens from A.I. Artifical Intelligence, have a good day, and don't leave poor Teddy alone with no one to keep him company!

Sayonara!

[thelittlesttimelord]

The Littlest Timelord: The Death of the Doctor Chapter 29

TITLE: The Littlest Timelord: The Death of the Doctor Chapter 29 PAIRING: No Pairing RATING: T CHAPTER: 29/? SUMMARY:  The Doctor’s death is looming on the horizon and Elise is growing every  day. What the Doctor doesn’t know is that he has 200 years to teach Elise all he knows. Amy, Rory, and River let Elise in on their secret,  because River knows she will keep it. What will Elise do when he’s gone?

Amy, Rory, the Doctor, and Elise stepped out of the TARDIS into what looked to be a hotel.

“Let's go to Ravan-Skala, he says. The people are six hundred feet tall. You have to talk to them in hot air balloons and the Tourist Information Center is made of one of their hats, he says. I'm sorry, but I don't see any huge hats,” Amy told him.

“Amy, Beaky, this could be the most exciting thing I have ever seen.”

“You're kidding,” Rory said as the Doctor ran up the staircase.

“How can you be excited about a rubbish hotel on a rubbish bit of Earth?” Amy asked.

“Because, assembled Ponds and Elise, this is not Earth. This has just been made to look like Earth. The craftsmanship involved. Can you imagine?”

Elise loved her father, but she had to admit he had some weird interests.

They made their way back to the reception area where the TARDIS parked.

“What? Then where are we?” Amy asked.

“I don't know,” the Doctor said, “Something must have yanked us off course. Look at the detail on that cheese plant!” He walked over to the plant and sniffed the leaf.

“Right, but who would mock up an Earth hotel?” Rory asked.

The Doctor picked an apple from a bowl sitting on a table and tossed it in the air. “Colonists maybe, recreating a bit of home, like when ex-pats open English pubs in Majorca.” The Doctor took a bite of the apple.

“Thought you didn’t like apples?” Elise asked him, a smirk on her face.

“Oi. Hush you! Whoever did this, I am shaking his/her hand/tentacle.”

Rory walked over to a wall of pictures. “Have you seen these? Look at the labels underneath. Commander Halke, defeat. Tim Heath, having his photo taken. Lady Silver-Tear, Daleks.”

Amy joined him. “Bruce Barnes, other people's socks. Tim Nelson, balloons. Novice Prin, sabrewolves. Royston Luke Gold, Plymouth? Lucy Hayward, that brutal gorilla. Doctor, what does it mean?”

“I don't know. Let's find out.” He rang the bell on the desk and three people appeared.

One was a woman holding a chair leg, another was a man holding a lamp, and the third was some type of alien holding a white flag.

“Blimey, that was a bit quick,” the Doctor said.

“We surrender!” the alien said.

“No, it's okay, we're not…” Rory told him.

“We surrender!”

“We're nice.”

“She's threatening me with a chair leg!” the Doctor said, pointing at the woman in scrubs.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“Oh god, we're back in reception,” the man said.

“We surrender!” the alien repeated.

“I've never been threatened with a chair leg before. No, hang on, I tell a lie,” the Doctor told them.

“Did you just say, it's okay, we're nice?” Amy asked Rory.

“Okay, I need everyone to shut up, now,” the woman said.

“Rita, be careful, yeah?” the man said.

“Their pupils are dilated. They're as surprised as we are. Besides which, if it's a trick, it'll tell us something,” Rita rattled off.

The Doctor smiled. “Oh, you're good. Oh, she's good. Amy, with regret, you're fired.”

“What?” Amy snapped.

“I'm kidding.” He turned to Rita and made a telephone gesture, mouthing, “We'll talk.” The Doctor turned to the alien. “I take it from the pathological compulsion to surrender, you're from Tivoli.”

“Yes. The most invaded planet in the galaxy. Our anthem is called Glory To Insert Name Here. I’m Gibbis, by the way.”

“You with the face, Howie, you said you were surprised to be back in reception.”

“The walls move. Everything changes,” Howie explained.

“You, clever one. What's he talking about?”

“The corridors twist and stretch. Rooms vanish and pop up somewhere else. It's like the hotel's alive,” Rita told him.

The Doctor walked over to the radio and turned the music off. “That's quite enough of that.”

“Yeah, and it's huge, with, like, no way out,” Howie said.

“Have you tried the front door?” Rory asked.

“No. In two days it never occurred to us to try the front door. Thank God you're here,” Rita deadpanned, causing Amy to laugh.

The Doctor soniced the doors before opening them. “They're not doors, they're walls. Walls that look like doors. Door-walls, if you like, or dwalls. Woors even, though you'd probably got it when you said they're not doors. I mean, the windows are…” He pulled back the curtain to reveal more bricks. “Right, big day if you're a fan of walls.”

“It's not just that. The rooms have…things in them,” Rita said.

“Things? Hello! What kind of things?” the Doctor asked, “Interesting things? I love things, ask anyone.”

“Bad dreams.”

“Well, that killed the mood. How did you get here?”

“I don't know. I'd just started my shift. I must have passed out, because suddenly I was here.”

“I was blogging. Next thing, this,” Howie said.

“Oh, I was at work. I'm in Town Planning. We're lining all the highways with trees so invading forces can march in the shade,” Gibbis explained, “Which is nice for them.”

“So, what have we got? People snatched from their lives and dropped into an endless, shifting maze that looks like a 1980s hotel with bad dreams in the bedrooms.” The Doctor took a Rubik’s cube from his pocket and tossed it. “Well, apart from anything else, that's just rude.”

They made their back down to the first floor landing.

“We'll pop back to the TARDIS, I'll do a planet-wide diagnostic sweep, and then we'll have a sing song,” the Doctor told them.

They stopped when they realized the TARDIS was gone.

“Where's the TARDIS? You parked it there, didn't you?” Amy asked.

“What's a TARDIS?” Howie asked.

“Our way out. And it's gone,” Rory said.

Elise opened her mouth to say something, but the Doctor hushed her again.

Suddenly, the radio started up again.

“Okay, this is bad. At the moment, I don't know how bad, but certainly we're three buses, a long walk and eight quid in a taxi from good,” the Doctor said pacing, “Are there any more of you?”

“Joe. But he's tied up right now,” Rita said.

“Doing what?”

“No, I mean he's tied up right now.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Rita, Gibbs, and Howie led them to the restaurant.

The man in question, Joe, was tied to a chair. The room was filled with dummies that stopped laughing as soon as they entered the room. Their heads turned towards the group and Elise grabbed onto to Rory’s arm.

“It’s okay,” he told her.

The Doctor walked up to Joe. “Hello. I'm the Doctor.”

“We're going to die here.”

“Well, they certainly didn't mention that in the brochure. Is Joe there? Can I have a quick word?” The Doctor grabbed an empty chair and sat down in it at Joe’s table.

“Oh, it's still me, Doctor, but I've seen the light. I lived a blasphemous life, but he has forgiven my inconstancy, and soon he shall feast.”

“Well, you've been here two days. What's he waiting for?”

“We weren't ready. We were still raw.”

“But now you're what? Cooked?”

“If you like. Soon you will be, too. Be patient. First, find your room.”

“My room.”

“There's a room here for everyone, Doctor. Even you.”

“You said you'd seen the light now.”

“Nothing else matters anymore. Only him. It's like these things. I used to hate them. They make me laugh now.” Joe started laughing. “Gottle o' geer. Gottle o' geer!”

The dummies joined Joe in laughing.

“You should go. He'll be here soon,” Joe told him.

“I think you should come with me.” He grabbed a luggage trolley and used it to wheel Joe back to the reception area. “Why you four? That's what I don't understand. Aside from all the other things I don't understand,” the Doctor said. He turned off the radio again.

“What does it matter? Sooner or later, someone will come along and rescue us. Or enslave us,” Gibbis said.

Elise thought the alien was rather pathetic. Living your life in constant fear? No thanks, she’d already done that in her first few years of life.

“First, we find the TARDIS. Quick thing before we go. If you feel drawn to a particular room, do not go in, and make sure someone else can see you at all times,” the Doctor told them.

“Joe said, he will feast. Is there something here with us?” Rita asked.

Joe started laughing again.

“Something to add, Joe?” the Doctor asked him.

“Here comes a candle to light you to bed. Here comes a chopper to chop off your head. Chop, chop, chop, chop.”

“Can we do something about him?” Howie asked.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Soon, they were wandering around the hotel.

Gibbis was wheeling Joe, who had his mouth taped shut. “Personally, I think you've got the right idea. Times like this, I think of my old school motto. Resistance Is Exhausting,” Gibbis said.

A man in his underwear with a whistle around his neck stepped out of room 158.

“Hello,” the Doctor said.

“Have you forgotten your PE kit again? Right, that's it, you're doing it in your pants!” the teacher yelled and then went back inside the room.

Behind them, Howie was staring at a door.

“Hey! Don't!” the Doctor yelled, but it was too late.

Howie opened the door to reveal several girls.

“Oh, look, girls, it's H-H-H-Howie!” the blonde said.

“What's loser in K-K-K-Klingon?” a brunette asked.

“Shut the-the-the d-d-d-the door!” Howie stuttered.

The Doctor closed the door as Howie looked embarrassed.

“This is just some m-m-messed up CIA stuff. I'm…I'm…I'm telling you.”

The Doctor put an arm around his shoulder. “You're right. Keep telling yourself that. It's a CIA thing, nothing more.” They ventured up the staircase to the next floor.

Amy knelt down and picked up a couple of pieces of paper. “Look.”

There was a loud roaring noise.

“Okay, whatever that is, it's not real, yeah?” Amy asked.

“No. No, I'm sure it isn't, but just in case, let's run away and hide anyway. In here,” the Doctor said.

Gibbis, Amy, Elise, Howie and the Doctor ducked into one of the rooms.

“Where’s Rory?” Elise asked.

The Doctor ran out of the room. “Rory, come on!”

“There was a…”

“Come on!”

Elise turned around and gasped.

There were Weeping Angels.

Elise backed away from them, not blinking, until she bumped into her father. Their last encounter had been less than pleasant. At least River at had been there.

“Don't blink,” Amy said.

“What?” Howie asked.

The lights flickered and the angels moved closer.

Elise whimpered. The Doctor could feel her shaking as she tried to press herself closer to him.

“Amy, get back!” the Doctor said, grabbing them.

The lights kept flickering, but the angels didn’t move.

“Why haven't they got us yet?” the Doctor asked. He stepped out behind Elise and walked towards them. He reached out, but his hand went through the angel.

“Amy, Elise, they're not real,” he said.

“What?” Amy asked.

“They should have got us by now. Amy, look at me. Focus on me. It's your bad dream, that's all.”

“I don't even think they're for us,” Rory said.

They all looked and saw Gibbis hiding in the wardrobe as something stomped slowly down the hallway.

The Doctor walked towards the door.

“Doctor, what are you doing?” Amy asked.

“I'm sorry, I just have to see what it is. I just have to see.” He looked through the peep hole. “Oh, look at you. Oh, you are beautiful. Oh, dear. I think it's going after Joe.” The Doctor opened the door and went out into the hallway. “Leave him alone!” He took off running.

Elise started to go after him, but Rory grabbed her. “I have to help him!” she told him.

“We can’t afford to get separated in this place.”

“But…”

“The Doctor will be fine. Just like he always is.”

Rory and older Amy’s words echoed in her head.

The Doctor and his ever faithful daughter.

[myheartmightexplode]

Tarsus iv

Summary

Big, black holographic letters before a plain white wall. A name seared into his memory like a fresh burn scar that itched, stung and roared when touched, followed by the most bullshitty question he had ever heard, in neat, 20 % transparent letters:

TARSUS IV - Were Kodos' actions defendable?

Anyone who has ever been in a class, has usually met that one guy.

'That one guy' is the guy who, without fail, doesn't arrive a second before he has to. And after a week or so of finding the barely-in-time arrival annoying, you just get used to it, and stop paying it attention altogether.

Therefore, no student really cared when one infamous James T. Kirk deftly slid into the auditorium to the beep of an attendance card and the hiss of the doors sealing shut behind him. This was also why his best friend, Leonard "Bones" McCoy, didn't have to follow his eye roll up with any kind of comment; as Interspecies Ethics 241 approached its end, any snide comments he could come up with had all been said once or twice before.

Neither he, nor Spock - a vulcan exchange student that decided to stay behind on Earth after his semester was up, and also the only of Jim's bedroom encounters with aliens that stayed tangled in the sheets - started when blonde hair and a cheerful grin climbed not as much as leaned over the two back rows of the auditorium and shoved them apart, to press an out-of-breath kiss to green-tinged lips.

"C'mon, Bones, move over."

Bones let out a snort. "If you wanna sit with the cool kids, you gotta be on time." Jim opened his mouth to complain, but was cut off with a sharp, "it's full, Jim! Go sit in the back."

Respect and discipline was two values which Starfleet Academy held highly, so when the guest lecturer started speaking, Jim merely gave his friend an ugly look and struggled himself into the back row, splitting up a couple of friends.

He hadn't unpacked his bag or sunk into his not-nearly-cushioned-enough-but-apparently-ergonomic seat before the lecturer announced the theme of his lecture, and in the same breath, captured Jim's attention like no teacher could ever hope to do.

Big, black holographic letters before a plain white wall. A name seared into his memory like a fresh burn scar that itched, stung and roared when touched, followed by the most bullshitty question he had ever heard, in neat, 20 % transparent letters:

TARSUS IV - Were Kodos' actions defendable?

He stood, and gestured for the girl next to him to stand. When she didn't react, merely cast a look at him that asked him how stupid he was or what he was on, he grit his teeth and shoved past her, probably painfully crashing into knees and stepping on toes and backpacks on the way, but with a numbing anger, he couldn't bring himself to care.

Affronted, their teacher rose from her seat next to the controls to the holo, hissing an accusing "Cadet!" as the door next to her opened with the internal override.

Not turning away from the lecturer, who busily continued as if nothing had happened, Bones scoffed at the vague shape in the corner of his eye of a fellow student flipping the bird on their way out. Some people just had to make a scene.

When the class ended, Bones turned to see that Jim had run ahead of them, which, though uncharacteristic of him, wasn't surprising. Bones knew better than to expect Jim to act a certain way; the guy always ended up doing the exact opposite. Whether it was because he liked to fuck with people's heads, or it was just in his nature to be unpredictable, Bones had yet to find out.

Spock didn't talk a lot unless prompted to do so by Jim, so the walk to the absolutely packed cantina was a silent one. Traveling through Monday morning hallways was a game of pinball with not-quite-awake latecomers and last minute crammers reading up on whatever subject their test would be on, which meant that securing a table was a privilege of the students quick to exit class. Neither Spock nor Bones rushed needlessly, so the discovery that Jim had secured a table for the three of them was a welcome one.

How Jim had already acquired lunch as well, though, was a bit of a mystery. That Bones got an avoidance rather than an answer when he asked as much was even more of one.

"Sorry. Just had to run ahead," he answered, attempting to fit half a sandwich in his mouth and not chewing thoroughly before gulping the chunk down in a manner similar to a bird of prey in a hurry. "I skipped breakfast this morning, so I was— I'm—" Jim cut himself off with an odd expression in favor of shoving more food into his oral cavity.

Bones stared expectantly. "Starving, Jim. You can say it if you try hard enough," he teased. Spock, as per usual, misunderstood him, and saw his chance to demonstrate his knowledge to his inferior human companions.

"Indeed, it is not a word considered 'taboo' amongst humans, especially since a famine has not occurred since late 21st century, due to advanced—"

"The fuck it hasn't. Just because Vulcan and Earth has a limitless food supply, it doesn't mean that the rest of the universe is as lucky."

Spock didn't appear offended, but something about his face made it clear that he didn't appreciate much being interrupted and belittled in the same sentence. Leonard assumed that his own face was just as expressive.

"'The hell, Jim? We're talking about Earth, not the rest of the universe. What crawled up your ass and died?" He would probably be amused that Jim had managed to eat half his lunch with an impressive three bites, but was a bit too busy feeling secondhand offense from Spock when all Jim saw fit to answer with was a scoff. "Don't get all touchy over Tarsus IV. 'S only a week long subject."

Spock suppressed an instinctual wince as James' metal chair scraped over the stone floor, creating a noise that cut painfully into his ears.

"I forgot my PADD in the classroom," he stated, abandoning his lunch as he collected his jacket and bag, throwing over his shoulder as he went: "See you in Nonverbal Communication."

Spock had, and suspected McCoy had as well, seen his beloved store away his PADD in his bag as they were approaching his acquired table, and therefore immediately revealed the statement to be invalid. What reason Jim would have to make the untruthful statement, however, Spock didn't know. He decided to voice as much. "I am struggling to understand the human tendency of 'lying white.'"

"White lies, Spock. It's 'white lies.'" Bones was torn between wanting to laugh at the vulcan, and buy him an educational book on FSE expressions, but thoughts of Jim distracted him. He sighed. "Yeah, me neither."

The day after, Jim was wholly absent from class. Spock would easily admit that he did not understand this sudden behavior of James'. While his 'boyfriend' might certainly not be the most logical of humans, he could always be trusted to do his very best in every situation, and always 'come out on top.' While often absentminded, always listening. While perpetually late, never did he skip class. Unless he was not feeling well?

Jim had taken up the habit of always calling Spock sometime between 23:48 and 00.07 every evening, which meant they had half an hour for talking before Spock begun his meditation. Their nightly conversations were illogical, as they rarely had anything of importance to discuss that could not be discussed at another more favorable time, but most nights, they provided Spock with a sense of calm, which aided him in his meditation later, and he felt himself growing fond of them in a way that surely was not vulcan.

There had been no such call the previous night, and as Jim always was the one to start the conversations, Spock had taken this as a need for privacy, and refrained from calling Jim himself.

Now that the classroom doors sealed shut, preventing latecomers from disturbing the rest of the class, Spock was left unsettled. McCoy, beside him in the same seats as the previous day, looked around the room, restlessly.

Seeming not to find what he was searching for, he settled down with notes from the previous lesson in front of him. "Probably slept in," he mumbled, as the lecturer started speaking.

Unsure of how to put words to his 'gut feelings,' Spock kept quiet.

Tarsus IV was an uncomfortable topic, and also one of the reasons that Bones wasn't all that fond of the big, black, star spangled silence up there. After all, Earth was a very safe place to live, with everything you needed at least somewhere nearby, and a lot of safety nets if something should go wrong. Serving on a star ship, or at a base somewhere on a barren planet several lightyears away from civilization, you had no safety nets. Limited supplies and death in all directions.

And still, the only place he truly belonged.

Even if Tarsus IV reminded him just where he was going and how bad an idea it really was, he kept a straight face and his fingers steady when they broke up in groups for discussions, listened to witness descriptions and took notes during the lengthy lecture on theories and controversies on and around the still touchy subject. The lecturer treated the whole topic tastefully, theorizing rather then concluding, which was a rare find, as most people seeking to comment on the incident either were theorists who painted it as a cruel massacre and wholeheartedly believed Starfleet to be behind the whole thing and Kodos still alive, or professors who had found proof that everything had gone to plan, and no innocent life had been stolen.

Bones did find the guest lecturer interesting, but not half as much as Spock, it seemed. He had attempted to mock the vulcan for it, but black eyes had turned to him sharply, and merely stated that "the conflict between logic and ethics is extremely fascinating, and Dr. Durmeg seems to have conducted thorough research, with valuable findings that may be the most relevant information pertaining to the discussion of Tarsus IV ethics." Sometimes Bones wondered why he bothered.

The walk towards the lunch hall was less obstructed on a late tuesday, and for once, Spock elected to talk during the whole walk. Bones didn't know if the vulcan brain allowed vulcans to process more information at one time than the human brain did, or if it was just Spock, but the young man had come up with some 'extremely fascinating' theories that had Bones wondering if he shouldn't be right up there beside the lecturer.

He wasn't done talking when he reached the table that Jim - mysteriously - had captured a second day in a row. Gracefully sliding down into the chair opposite his boyfriend, Spock busied himself with his brought, vegetarian, lunch.

"It is most unfortunate that you missed this class," he said as he released the smell of a vulcan salad from its container. It seemed to smell pleasing to him, but Bones felt mildly nauseated by the odor. Unaware of his friend's discomfort, Spock elaborated: "The Dr. Durmeg expressed interesting and valuable viewpoints on the Tarsus IV crisis."

Jim's vague hum seemed to confirm the statement, and discourage rather than encourage an elaboration, but the tone was either lost on or ignored by Spock.

"Indeed, he made some quite convincing arguments that Kodos' action were entirely justifiable—"

"Nothing about Kodos is justifiable."

Spock seemed to consider the statement for a second, tilting his head. "Had you attended class—"

"We're through."

"I beg your pardon?"

Jim stood, locking his PADD and putting it away. "We're over, Spock."

And in the next second, Jim was gone.

Spock tried, futilely, to grab onto a sensible thought that would explain these actions. He turned to McCoy.

"I am not entirely sure that I understand the full meaning of this particular human—"

"He…" Bones narrowed his eyes at the hallway where Jim had disappeared. "He just broke up with you."

He hadn’t slept for days, hunger gnawing at his insides as if his body could eat itself inside out and survive that way, dull teeth scraping at his nerve endings as he felt as if he had a black hole inside of him that was pulling at him, rendering him immobile and whimpering.

Tara had fallen to her death, slipped somewhere she should’ve been safe but wasn’t because she was sluggish and blinded by the gnawing, and Yvonne had fallen asleep, but not woken up the next morning or the one after, and now they were down to ten, ten almost- and just-barely teenagers, nine who should’ve been safe in their beds maybe even with their parents by their sides if they were lucky and hadn’t decided to throw away the fact that they were so blessed as to be chosen for the sake of saving one single blind passenger, save him for nothing because now they were all going to die, all alone and hopeless, now that the darkness came and stole him away, as he passed out because he was too hungry and too cold and too hurting to fall asleep but his body couldn’t take anymore and—

Jim didn’t awake with screams and moans anymore, mainly because the nightmares didn’t plague him any longer, but also because they weren’t as much nightmares as bad memories, and if there was one thing Jim didn’t do, it was linger on the past. However, the experiences left him shaking, cold and with a wave of nausea washing over him as he stretched out under the sheets, just to feel the soft cotton all around him, just to forget the sensation of wet, dirty, sandy clothes clinging to his body.

The room was completely dark, but the window let in a slight shimmer of blue light that caressed his desk, the spines of the books in the book shelf, the night stand and the empty right side of the bed. With a shaking breath, he reached for his cell phone, ignoring the glaring numbers of the display in favor of thumbing through his programmed contacts, not trusting his voice to carry the voice commands correctly.

It wasn’t until his thumb rested over the name so dear to him, that he realized what he had actually done not too many hours previous.

Releasing the device with a sigh, he curled back up under the cold sheets, staring at the insides of his eyelids. Spock wouldn’t be mad, Spock would probably understand and brush it away as emotional human behavior, and act as if nothing had happened, but the sudden realization that he had broken up with Spock left him inexplicably shaken, to the core, and feeling alone and very small and like he didn’t belong.

If he didn’t cry himself to sleep, it wasn’t because the black hole in his chest didn’t hurt.

"I don’t think I’ve seen you worried before."

The observation wasn't anything but that: An observation. Interestingly enough, seeing as almost every reference McCoy made to his behavior came in the form of an insulting attempt to, presumably, elicit an emotional response.

In the same fashion, Spock voiced his observations on Jim's behavior, and the questions it had raised within him.

" I don't delude myself as to think I have gotten him pinned down, but as I've for a while studied Jim's behavioral nature, this sudden 'breaking up' seems to me unmotivated and uncharacteristically not thought through. Additionally, I have come to the conclusion that this could be related to the current lecture subject and our discussions of it, which leaves me 'puzzled.'"

Leonard cringed visibly from the strange, if not audibly painful mixture of informal and formal federation standard english. "Keep working on your colloquial english, Spock. Anyway, would've thought vulcans didn't worry."

Spock opened his mouth, to answer one remark or the other, Bones assumed, but was interrupted by the lecturer's arrival. He thought he might've caught a glimmer of disappointment in those expressionless eyes as Spock sat down next to him, swiftly entering vulcan notes into his PADD ("quite logically, seeing as the experience would not only ensure easier and more correct recalling of the lesson, while simultaneously provide exercise in FSE to GV translation.")

The belated beep of the attendance card distracted him, though, and he turned in his seat to face his romantic partner - his boyfriend - who again had arrived barely on time, his appearance speaking of an insufficient amount of sleep. Beautiful blue eyes sought his, and Jim sent him a tight smile.

When Spock returned his smile (or what he hoped came across as one) with a slight nod and warm eyes, Jim could finally breathe out, and try a happier expression. He sunk into an end seat in the back, and drew out his PADD.

He didn't particularly want to be there, but then again, he didn't particularly want to be single any longer than he had to, (although he was pretty sure Spock had no idea what "we're through" meant anyways.) So he tuned out everything else, and started drafting up an explanation that wouldn't set off Spock's internal lie-detector, or leave anything for his vulcan curiosity to latch onto.

An hour passed by without making itself known as Jim debated family problems, insomnia, existential crisis, hell, even male PMS, and he had a good thousand words worth of half-assed stories when he became aware of the silence. Not break-silence with co-student chattering, not lecture-silence with the lecturer mumbling to himself during stops in his presentation, not note-taking silence with tap-tap-tapping on PADDs. Just silence.

Worrying that he might have been asked a question he wouldn't have the faintest idea of an answer to, he drew a breath, and looked up.

Whatever he was expecting, it wasn't the gazes of a hundred and fifty six students, one guest lecturer and one teacher simultaneously directed at him.

He sent a look at Spock and Bones, fully intending to have them explain what was going on via eye contact, but the sad, pitying? look on Bones' face, and Spock's suddenly calculating eyes made him wary.

Turning his eyes to the front of the auditorium, his mouth went dry, and the black hole returned.

Spock returned his eyes to the hologram that had put a stop to the lesson.

Younger, thinner, paler, more haunted, hair dirtied by dust or dirt and with barely discernible tear tracks burrowing their way down a blank face, stood his boyfriend by a rescue shuttle, the Platon, the first shuttle to touch down on Tarsus IV after the Kodos incident.

The hologram was highly pixelated and taken from a low angle, and this, along with the folds of clothing that obscured the motive, suggested that a compact device had been used in secrecy, to obtain the picture. Had anyone seen it be taken, the photographer would likely be reprimanded, and the picture deleted. It should have been deleted, even if it was not discovered while it was being shot. Wouldn't there be witness protection? Wouldn't someone be hired to ensure that any picture of such nature was deleted from—

Opening classroom doors spurred him from his somewhat hysterical inner debate, and before he really was aware of his actions, he had packed up and went out the door, chasing Jim's hastily retreating back.

Leonard, on the other hand, was rooted by the sudden revelation, and didn't retrieve control of his limbs until the doors swished shut behind Spock.

Swearing under his breath, he, too, rose from his seat. Every step he made towards the door and every number on the override code felt incredibly awkward and loud in the silent room, but awkwardness wasn't really what was on his mind at the moment.

Sinking down into a corner of the fire evacuation staircase, Jim didn't really feel much. There was the insane, pressing pain in his chest and burning in his eyes, and maybe he twisted his ankle on the way here, but it felt as if his mind was just a floating mass, incapable of holding a thought, resulting in a buzz, like a wrongly configured communicator. He became aware of an arm snaking around his shoulders, uncharacteristic of Spock, and a warm hand massaging his shoulder, very characteristic of Bones, and maybe it relieved the pain a bit, or maybe it didn't.

He let out a puff of laughter. "I drafted like…" He did a headcount. "Fourteen different lies to tell you."

Spock needed no further explanation. He cocked his head "I think the appropriate expression is: 'Truth will out.'"

Jim neither corrected or laughed at the erroneous use of the saying, and instead snorted out a quick "maybe."

Leonard ground his teeth, rubbing his best friend's shoulder in what he hoped was a soothing manner, while he tried to sort out his thoughts before his mouth could spew something that went unchecked by his brain. 'I'm sorry' were the most pressing words, but they were lame, and Jim would probably appreciate them as much as he appreciated a fucking hologram that confirmed him as one of the nine Tarsus IV survivors being stretched out over the holoscreen in front of a whole class of starfleet cadets.

It wasn't very surprising that Jim was the first one to speak, because there wasn't a whole lot to say. The words surprised all of them though. Including Jim himself.

"I wasn't supposed to be on Tarsus IV," he confessed, grabbing a random thought out of his head and pulling it out of his mouth. And when he started talking, everything else came detached, easily:

"I snuck onto a ship to get over there. I was just so sick of Frank and Winona and Iowa that I figured I'd go somewhere they couldn't get to me. Somewhere they couldn't just… Go act all worried in front of the police and get them to haul my ass back into the house when I wanted to be alone."

He blinked repeatedly to clear his vision again, and dared a glance up at the two best people in the world. They radiated endless patience and comfort, and something that the black hole didn't take, blossomed in his chest.

"Uh… I was in eight or ninth grade, and there was this summer camp, or school, I guess, over at Tarsus IV. An advanced academical course for kids and language courses for parents and guardians, and everyone would live in really cramped houses. I was bored out of my mind with regular school, so I really wanted to go, but Winona wouldn't take me, and hell would freeze over before I took Frank, and I obviously couldn't go alone, so I snuck aboard the ship."

The three of them were all sitting down now, and even if he leaned a little heavily into the arm that was still slung awkwardly around his shoulders (he appreciated the gesture too much to shake it off, even if it felt strange,) it felt like they were just hanging out, talking about whatever crossed their mind. Even now that there was only really one thing on their minds.

"I hid in the room of my classmates on the ship over, and hacked into their databases while they were still unprotected to put my name into the class. I still had to hide in Thomas' closet when we got to Tarsus, though, because I couldn't figure out a way to assign myself some sort of housing, but you know. It just became a kid's game. Hiding from the parents, unless I wanted to be sent back home. Class was challenging, but that's what I went there for, so I had a really great time.

"I guess you know what happened next." He shrugged. "Food went bad, communication lines went down and Kodos decided it was time to play god. Fuck, he had like, a screen to relay public announcements on, and at first, we thought it was really funny in a very pretentious way, but…"

Jim didn't realize he was crying until a salty tear ran down into his mouth, and when the taste hit his tongue, his throat started tightening up. "Just, seeing a huge face of some guy who you really, really trusted before, because he was the fucking governor of the colony, saying that you and you and you have to kindly go die…

"This guy in my class, Kevin Riley, his parents were on the dead list. What kind of monster kills the parents of a kid, and expects the kid to go on fine?

"…When they rounded up the people who were going to die because their 'existence represented a threat to the well-being of society,' it was kind of obvious that he favored kids over adults. I have no idea what he was trying to do. Build his own society, I guess. I think he just wanted to see what he could make us do.

"Anyway, they made all the people on the dead-list gather together, and people were holding onto each other and kids were trying to get through the energy field when they managed to separate all of them. And then, in one second, they were all there, and in the next, everybody had just disappeared. Not a trace there'd been anyone there. I guess we were all in shock, because no one started screaming or anything, and I was just thinking that I was really lucky that I wasn't on the living-list, because it meant I'd sure as hell not be put on the death-list."

Jim chucked darkly. "God, I'd just thought the thought, and the moment after, the peace keeping forces, peace keeping, yeah right, they point their phaser rifles at us, and Kodos isn't looking nice anymore, and he just says that 'there are some blind passenger on Tarsus IV,' and my blood just froze. I was sure they knew who I was and where I was, and I had no idea what to do. He started saying something about how even one more person alive would mean 'slow death to the more valued members of society,' and we kids just panicked. I don't know how many of us there were, but someone pulled me along, and half my class started running for anywhere else. I can't even remember where we hid, I just remember trying so hard not to get caught.

"We had to hide away for one and a half weeks. They fed the 'valued members of society' in a closed area, and no one got to bring any food out, so we tried to find food elsewhere, but it just wasn't ever enough, and god, I thought a day without food was bad, but that was just hell. Freddie from our class gave up after a while and ran to Kodos' soldiers to get some food, but I don't know what Kodos told them, that they had to obey him or something unless he'd kill them, maybe, but they just took him somewhere, and he never came back.

"We hid around the housing area for another half week and I thought we were going to die that one day, but suddenly, someone got the communication back up working, and they signaled starfleet to come and rescue us, and I guess Kodos heard about that, because the soldiers just started firing away at everybody, so we just, we ran away as far as possible from any building we could see, so we hid in some unfinished buildings, and Tara fell off the top of the building and died, and Yvonne and Mark just stopped waking up after a couple of days of hiding."

Suddenly, his words came like a rush, as if he couldn't get them away from him, out of him, fast enough. They tasted like poison on his tongue.

"They found us, two soldiers, or three I guess, and they fired at random into the building, so we found some crates to hide in and under and behind, but Linn wasn't fast enough and she disappeared, and Thomas was just barely, by a hair fast enough to only get half his face blown away when we ducked. We hid away for three hours just holding our breath and not making noises, and then we had to take off our t-shirts to press them against Thomas' face so he wouldn't bleed to death. I have no idea why we didn't just let him bleed out, because it was just naïve and stupid to think that anyone would come to our rescue after all that time, but they did, they did, and…"

He doubled over with a choked sob, and both Spock and Bones were there to catch him, embrace him, rub at him and warm up his shaking, inexplicably cold body.

"I don't know why I'm crying," he whispered, voice hoarse. "I'm over this. I left it behind. It's so, so long ago."

"Bullshit," mumbled Bones right back. "You'd have to be made outta titanium to just leave behind something like this."

"Sharing worries and 'venting emotions' seem to be an effective way of dealing with such problems, Jim. There is no shame in attempting to relieve your pain."

He shook his head. "Four people died because of me. Possibly five."

Warm lips pressed to his temple. "And I grieve with thee, Jim, but--"

The warmth in his chest was back, and the black hole felt as if it had lost it's strength. Even as he untangled himself from the unbelievably emotional display, he felt comforted. He smiled, mainly to himself. "No one's ever told me that before."

"'Bout time we did, then." Bones stood, and offered a hand, which Jim took.

"Let's get to lunch," he said, patting his friends' backs decisively. "Let's count the stares I get when we get to the cafeteria."

Bones thought Spock looked vaguely amused, and saved the visual for future reference. However: "Your face is all red and puffed, by the way."

Jim started rubbing furiously at his face, which probably wouldn't help at all. "Shut up, Bones. Your face is red and puffy. What happened to 'you did a great job, Jim?'"

"I'm a doctor, not a psychologist. I've dashed out enough comfort today," he snorted. "Time to get you to act more like Jim always-arriving-late Kirk and less like a wuss."

"Hey, I don't always arrive late."

"Yeah, you really do, actually. You're gonna be late for your own funeral, someday."

"You're like the worst friend ever. Spock, tell Bones that he's the worst friend ever."

"As I have not yet befriended every person 'ever,' as you say, I cannot ascertain that he is the worst friend ever."

"Spock, you're the worst boyfriend ever."

Spock merely raised an eyebrow at the accusation, tuning out the inevitable jab at Jim's 'taste in men' that Bones was very likely to make. Instead, it seemed impossible to tear his eyes away from the wide grin that spoke warmly of the human trait of getting through anything anyone 'threw their way.'

[ramenkween]

Love Song

Billy Hargrove x reader

Inspired by Love Song by Lana Del Rey

This is the first Billy Hargrove x reader fic based on Lana Del Rey’s songs! I’ve mentioned in a post before that Billy is the type of guy that Lana would write her songs about, Norman Fucking Rockwell came out a few days ago and it’s amazing.

Listen to Love Song by Lana Del Rey

Album: Norman Fucking Rockwell!

Summary: You and Billy finally become a couple after having a crush on him for years.

Notes about the story: Some things in this story that differentiate from the show; you, Billy and Steve have been childhood friends but have since disbanded in high school – but recent events have reunited the three of you. Your little sister Flora has been a member of Mike’s group for years. 

Warnings: swearing, smut(kinda?)

Word count (from start of story): 2,100

…

You remembered how late at night it was when you sat in the passenger’s seat of Billy Hargrove’s car as he drove the two of you to your possible imminent deaths; your little sister Flora and Billy’s sister Max were in Steve Harrington’s car ahead with Lucas and Dustin. You sat there quietly when Billy looked over at you.

“Oh man,” he grumbled. “Remember when we were kids? Steve and I always used to hang out at your house because I didn’t want you guys at mine when my dad was there… and Steve’s parents were just weird about him being friends with us?”

The nostalgia came reeling in; they were definitely simpler times when you, Billy and Steve were hopeless, innocent children. You were equally close with them both, but you were just that little bit closer with Billy – there’d be things that you couldn’t tell Steve because he wouldn’t understand it the way Billy would. That trust in him was what sparked your long-time crush on Billy, and that secret still remained with Steve. But those days became nothing more than bittersweet childhood memories. Years passed and high school changed the boys more than it changed you; you remained the shy and reserved girl that only ever blossomed around them. A smile lets out across your face.

 “Yeah… Those were really good days” you reply.

“We’d play Truth or Dare in your living room, and the most dangerous thing we did was daring Steve to drink a capful of your dad’s Reaper Sauce. Now our little sisters are going on some sort of death expedition” he joked. “Where did it all go wrong?”

You shrugged, “I don’t know… times have changed. We changed, too.”

“What the hell happened to us huh?” he said back.

“We grew up I guess. Steve grew that headful of hair and became King Steve and you… You grew a mullet and wore tight jeans and suddenly all the girls want you.” Billy laughed politely.

“And what about you?” he asked.

“I’m still the same. No new friends… Nothing. It’s just been me.”

“But there have been times when I asked you to hang out with me and my other friends. Why didn’t you ever show?”

You rolled your eyes and sneered, “Billy you might not have noticed, but I don’t exactly fit in to society’s ideal standards.”

“That’s too bad” he replied. “Because even though we don’t hang out like we used to, I still think you’re pretty awesome.”

You felt your cheeks redden slightly but thankfully it was too dark for him to notice.

“Thanks Billy.”

Then after a moment of not saying anything to each other, Billy cleared his throat.

“Alright, how about this; when this whole thing blows over, when we finish going after whatever it is we’re going after and somehow miraculously survive… How about we hang out again? Just the two of us?”

“Are you… are you asking me out on a date?” you shyly ask.

“We don’t have to put labels on anything… We could just be two people catching up with life. Deal?”

You looked out to the dark road you’re driving in and thought to yourself that you had to survive the night. In truth, you did miss your best friend.

“Okay, Hargrove. Deal.”

And you did survive that night; you gripped Billy’s hand out of fear when those Demodogs ran straight past your feet thinking they’d charge at you and tear your flesh to shreds. Steve noticed how close you got that particular night; when he questioned you about it before your catch-up with Billy you couldn’t help but blush. Steve saw the glow in your eyes and remembered the shy little girl who had a crush on their best friend.

“I’m happy for you, Y/N. He’s a great guy.”

“You’re both great” you smile. “You know, it’s weird; when I pictured the three of us hanging out again it wasn’t because we all had to fight off those alien things”

Steve smiled and gave a light nudge on your arm.

“How did you picture it?” he asked.

You shake your head, “I don’t really know. But I’m glad I got both of you back.”

“Well, if everything goes to plan and the two of you finally become a couple, I’m being Billy’s best man at your wedding” you went beet red when Steve teased you about it.

During the catch-up with Billy, you realised how your crush on him never went away, but was dormant instead. The feeling came back almost instantly when he spoke about his life he, you and Steve parted ways. Billy drove you back to your house when it ended.

“I had a nice time–”

He cut off your words with a tender kiss; it came to you as a shock at first, but you eventually gave in and let yourself melt within it. You were breathless.

“Holy shit… That’s what I’ve been missing all these years?” Billy said to you before pulling you in for another kiss.

“Billy… I’ve been in love with you since the sixth grade” you weakly murmured.

Billy sighed happily as he leaned his forehead against yours.

“I know” he whispered. “Steve sucks at keeping secrets. Sorry I took so long to finally feel the same way…”

“It’s okay” you tell him. “You were worth the wait.”

The two of you officially became a couple after your third date – with Steve’s help he and Billy set up an outdoor theatre in your backyard using an old projector and a large white dust sheet; you were confined to your room until it was fully ready. You watched The Rocky Horror Picture Show nestled in Billy’s arms as he played with your hair.

“Do you think we’ll end up like Brad and Janet?” you ask him.

“You mean our car breaks down in front of a creepy house and we end up meeting a sweet transvestite from transsexual Transylvania?” he jokingly replied.

“No you douchebag!” you laughed. “I mean like, having a future together? Or is that too soon to say?”

“Well, if we’re going to be like Brad and Janet, don’t you think we’d have to be a couple first?”

You release yourself from his arms and turn to face him.

“We – we’re not a couple?” you ask, smile fading from your face.

“We never confirmed it… but now that we’re here,” Billy pulled out a small sunflower from his jacket pocket and presented it to you. “Roses are lame. You radiate sunshine and warmth even in the darkest and cold places. You’re my sunflower, Y/N”

“Billy…”

“I don’t want to wait another date to ask you. I got you back after so many years. So, Y/N, will you be my girlfriend?”

You hold Billy’s face as you bring him in to you for a fervent kiss.

“Yes” you tell him between kisses. “I wouldn’t want anything more than to be your girlfriend.”

Days turned to weeks and eventually months; Billy had become completely smitten by you.

“God, I love you. You know that? I love you so fucking much! I’m lucky to have fallen in love with my best friend!” he exclaimed as he drove. You had just left a party that neither of you were enjoying. You just wanted each other’s company. Billy pulled up his Camaro on a hill that overlooked the town of Hawkins. Without saying a word you made your way over to his side, straddling him.

“Hi there” he smirked. “What’s happening?”

“I want you, Billy. Right here, right now.”

You knew how experienced Billy was with girls, and he knew it would be your first time.

In the car, in the car, in the backseat, I'm your baby

We go fast, we go so fast, we don’t move

“Are you sure?” he asks. You bite your bottom lip and nod.

“I’m sure” you tell him. “There’s nobody but you and me tonight.”

You make your way to the backseat of the Camaro after pushing the seats forward to make room for yourselves. Slowly between kisses you both begin to shed pieces of your clothing and toss them to the front. You unclasp your bra, fully exposing yourself to him. Billy took in the sight of you, completely under your spell.

“Holy shit, Y/N…” he exhales. You tilt your head down trying to cover your face with your hair. Billy moves it away and tucks it behind your ears. “You don’t have to do that” he says. “You don’t ever have to hide away from me again. You’re so beautiful.”

I believe in a place you take me

Make you real proud of your baby

In your car, I'm a star and I'm burnin’ through you

In your car, I'm a star and I'm burnin' through you

You throw your arms around him and crash your lips against his slow at first. The kisses begin to grow hungrier between the two of you, and soon you waste no time; Billy takes you underneath him and slowly connects himself to you. You let out a moan of pleasure as he does the same.

“Oh my…” he whispers as he moves inside you.

Oh, be my once in a lifetime

Lyin' on your chest in my party dress

I'm a fuckin' mess, but I

Oh, thanks for the high life

Baby, it's the best, passed the test and yes

Now I’m here with you, and I

Would like to think that you would stick around

You know that I’d just die to make you proud

The taste, the touch, the way we love

It all comes down to make the sound of our love song

Sweating, it feels like hours of making love in the night and you never want it to end. Billy was slow and gentle with you as it was your first time. He made you feel like a goddess with the way he moved in you.

“Billy…” you hissed through your teeth, getting lost in the moment. “I… love… you…”

He stopped to look down at you and smiled before burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“I love you too” he said. “I love you so much.”

Dream a dream, here's a scene

Touch me anywhere ’cause I'm your baby

Grab my waist, don't waste any part

I believe that you see me for who I am

So spill my clothes on the floor of your new car

Is it safe, is it safe to just be who we are?

Is it safe, is it safe to just be who we are?

Billy slowly removed himself from inside you and kissed your neck down to your collarbones, between your breasts and down to your stomach before placing your legs over his shoulders. You look down and see the view of Billy’s mouth pleasuring you.

“Fuck…” you close your eyes and begin to arch your back at the electricity he’s sending you. You tangle your fingers in Billy’s curly hair, gripping them harder as he pleasures you faster and faster. It wasn’t long until you were connected to each other again, this time his hips bucked faster as you locked him in position with your legs. You moaned each other’s names loudly, not giving a care in the world if anybody saw you through the windows. The night belonged to both of you.

Oh, be my once in a lifetime

Lyin' on your chest in my party dress

I’m a fuckin' mess, but I

Oh, thanks for the high life

Baby, it's the best, passed the test and yes

Now I'm here with you, and I

Would like to think that you would stick around

You know that I'd just die to make you proud

The taste, the touch, the way we love

It all comes down to make the sound of our love song

When you finished you lied in each other’s naked arms, panting from the best sex you’ve had so far.

“Did I hurt you at all?” Billy asked. You sit up and look at him.

“No, I’m okay. I could get used to this.”

Billy exhaled with a smile as he squeezed your shoulder.

“I’m glad you’re in my life again Y/N”

You lock your fingers with his and bring his hand up to your lips to give it a tender kiss.

“Me too, baby” you rest your head against his chest as he caresses your bare back. “Me too.”

The taste, the touch, the way we love

It all comes down to make the sound of our love song

[lothirielswanmarvel]

MISSION REPORT: Initiate operation “group hug”.

“This is nice,” I mused, blowing on a coffee cup as I stared across the table at Bucky. Morning light filled the tiny diner. It looked so calm, so quaint...it made last night’s light show seem like a dream.

He shrugged. My eyes narrowed. Something about his left arm...it rubbed me the wrong way.

“Mrow, ” Kramer’s paw escaped my old gym bag and rattled my plate. I shushed him, and slipped a small piece of bacon into the opening.

“You had to bring him in?” Bucky asked.

“It's too cold in the car,” I told him, resting my chin on my elevated fingers.

A shadow fell over me.

“Is everything okay over here?” The waiter glanced between the two of us.

I nodded and smiled, “It's great, thanks.”

He beamed at me. “Enjoy your date.”

Date? My head tilted to the side as he walked off. I looked back to Bucky. That's probably what it looked like. Everyone accepted things as they appeared. I envied their simplicity.

“So who’s this friend of yours?” I stared down at the caramel-colored liquid of my coffee.

“We’ve...run in the same circles. In the past.” Bucky’s eyes kept darting around the restaurant. He never seemed to relax.

“Do you mind putting this on? They’re looking for your face, too,” Bucky flipped off his plum-colored baseball cap and offered it to me.

I tacked it on. His small smile returned.

“What?”

“You look...like a fine dane.” He frowned at the words.

I bit my lip to silence any laughter. “A fine dane?”

Bucky shifted in the booth. “Sorry...it's been awhile since I've used that line. On anyone.”

“It's a good line.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. A little cheesy, but girls like that,” I replied.

Suddenly the sound of heels carried on the tile. I spotted the pair of boots responsible for the noise. I froze when I saw her face.

“I wish Steve had your enthusiasm for the dating world,” Natasha Romanoff stood before our table, tossing a wink at Bucky.

I was speechless at first. Her skin was fine porcelain, like marble, or the fine white thread of a spider web. Her crimson curls clashed like blood in the snow. Everything about her was striking.

She motioned for Bucky to scoot and sat down with us. She smirked at me.

“I'm June,” I choked out the words as I coped with my awe. “I...already know who you are.”

“Hi, June. She’s pretty, where’d you find her?”

“She’s my neighbor.”

“Huh.” Natasha leaned back against the old fashioned white-blue design of the cushions. “So you need a place to crash. Avengers Tower is open.”

My eyes popped out of their sockets. The offer was so casual, so genuine. Bullets were easier to get used to than Bucky’s high-class friends.

“I don't really have a good reputation with Starks, Natasha.”

“He doesn't know. And it wasn't your fault.”

Bucky shook his head. “Doesn't change what happened.”

Natasha’s fingers tap-danced across the slightly sticky surface of the table as she thought. “Maybe S.H.I.E.L.D. could help you out.”

“You’re joking, right?”

“No. Your name is on the Wall of Valor at every S.H.I.E.L.D. facility.” Natasha said. “But Fury’s still upset that you blew up his car…”

I shot Bucky a confused look.

“It was an accident,” He mumbled. “Sort of.”

Natasha’s widened eyes said otherwise. “Let’s see...we have tons of safe houses all over New York. You could stay in one of those until you get a grip on things.”

Bucky contemplated. I watched unmoving his facial expression when he was silent; he always had a serious look on his face. I was shocked at how little his face revealed, like he was encased in plaster for years.

Eventually his gaze wandered to me. “What do you think?”

I froze. “You're asking me?”

“It's your decision, too,” He said.

I thought about it. I wasn't really the expert; the only time I tried to hide from somebody was when I moved away from my extremely manipulative mother. But hiding from agents of an evil nazi organization…that seemed slightly more intense than mom—well, that woman could be the scourge of Germany—okay, I didn't have the time for this debate.

Hmm...New York was notorious for its busy streets and traffic from hell. It was a hub of activity. Easy to blend in. But Hydra could be around every corner…

“Is it safe?” I asked, feeling dumb.

Natasha answered, “Bullet-proof windows. Steel locks...I wouldn't choose it as a long-term plan, but it's a start.”

“Pet friendly?”

“I think Bucky will be comfortable,” Natasha smirked.

“Nat, come on.”

“What kind of pet is it? Is it a dog—? Who’s the little cutie?”

I glanced around the diner to make sure the waiter was occupied, then I unzipped my bag and Kramer’s wide eyes fell on Natasha.

The deadly assassin gasped. “Aww, it's a kitty! Can I hold him?”

I hoisted Kramer over the counter and into the Avenger’s awaiting arms. Natasha squished him into a hug. “What's Mr. Kitty’s name?”

“Kramer.”

“Like Seinfeld? Aww, he is just the cutest—you can even see the insanity in his eyes. Just like the character, that is adorable.”

Bucky shook his head silently.

Natasha juggled the cat as she pulled out a key. “Here—oh, what if I joined you guys and we could have a big road trip? I'm not ready to part with Mr. Kramer.”

Bucky turned in his seat and squinted at Natasha, innocently cuddling with the cat. “What’s your angle?”

Natasha’s eyes widened like a doll’s, childlike and naive. “Angle? Why, whatever are you referring to, Mr. Barnes?”

“Why do you want to travel with us to New York?”

“Because I like this cat, and I want to make sure that he and his super nice owner make it to their destination safely.”

“Uhuh.”

“I miss our old adventures—this could be our way of catching up. Did I ever tell you about Budapest?”

“Budapest? What's Budapest?” I piped up.

Both glanced at me. “Don't ask,” Bucky said.

Natasha petted Kramer dramatically with an amused smile, looking like a villain who had outsmarted the hero. “You said you needed help. So, let me help you.”

“Yeah, the last time you tried to “help” someone, Barton ended up stuck in the vents or some weird crap.”

“This has nothing to do with Barton—well, not just Barton.”

“Just Barton?”

The little bell at the door rang. Three people in hoodies and baseball caps walked across the room and stopped before our table.

Sam Wilson. Steve Rogers. Some random person with resting murder face.

My head tilted to the side. “Why are all of you wearing caps and hoodies?”

Resting-Murder-Face shrugged. “Incognito.”

Steve was busy staring at Bucky, the way I usually stared at the ice cream in the freezer. “Hey, Buck.”

Bucky groaned and laid his head on the sticky table. Sam Wilson noticed me and winked. “Hey, how you doin’? I'm—”

“Sam Wilson.” I answered for him, shaking the hand he offered to me. “Sorry—I heard about you on the news, what you did at D.C. You’re amazing.”

Sam beamed, his pearl-white teeth flashing. “I'm nobody special. Well, he's special—” Sam nudged his chin at Bucky, “—if you know what I mean.”

Sam and I laughed. Bucky scowled at both of us. I looked over at the guy with the angry expression. “Who’s this?”

Resting-Murder-Face turned his glare upon me. “You're kidding.”

“Why would I be kidding?”

“Clint? Clint Barton? Hawkeye?” He threw unfamiliar names at me. I just stared blankly.

Clint’s expression became slightly more murderous. “Arrow-guy? Best archer ever? Am I ringing any bells?”

“No, sorry. I've never heard of you.”

“Well, I’ll have you know, missy, that I’m one of the founding members of the Avengers.”

“Okay…”

“Remember that New York invasion? The aliens? I killed twelve of ‘em. You're welcome.”

“Oh...thanks.”

“And you’re welcome.”

“...You said that.”

“Clint.” Steve silenced him with a look. I couldn't get over Steve’s blond hair. It was just so...perfect-looking. Like it was styled with buckets of gel, yet it looked completely natural.

Bucky sighed. “You shouldn't be here. None of you.”

I ignored how much it stung when he said that. I leaned back in my seat, crossing my arms.

“June, I am truly sorry for ruining your life. I can never make up for that,” He said. I was shaking my head throughout the entire speech.

“What life? I lived alone, with my crazy cat, and cut people open for a living.” I remarked.

“Excuse me for asking, but what’s your profession again?” Steve asked politely.

“Cardiologist,” Natasha answered for me.

I blinked, trying to remember when I told her. “I don't think I told you that.”

“No, you didn't. Also, you were born on Long Island. Adopted, right?”

My arms tightened around my chest. “We just met, like, five minutes ago.”

“And now she knows your life story. That's Nat,” Clint concluded.

“If your true objective is to keep June safe, it would be easier with us on board,” Steve replied, ducking his head as the waiter passed by. Natasha hid the cat inside her leather jacket whenever someone looked over.

Bucky looked over at me. This time, there was a change in his face. His eyes tightened. He bit down on his lip.

“Fine. We’re going to New York. All of us.”

“Yay! Can we stop by Pet Supermarket and get this little cutie a tie? Or one of those mini-sweaters!”

[fandomseverywhereassemble]

Less than Human (pt. 2)

[thebrightsessions]

Abt you not confirming any characters as poc: It feels a little performative. Like you go on and on abt how important representation is but you leave poc out in the cold. And this isn't even addressed in a way that makes it seem like you care or have thought abt it. I'm not trying to be rude, but it's a little (a lot) upsetting

I’m really sorry that it seems like I don’t care or that I don’t think about it - I do care and I spend a lot of time thinking about this exact subject. But, like 98% of my thinking, I tend to keep it to myself or conversations with close friends and collaborators. The internet is not always the best place to learn and grow. I even debated answering this ask publicly (or at all - as you guys know, there’s about 900 unanswered asks in here) because I’m always afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing, but I want to be transparent about this kind of stuff so that I can learn how to be better. 

This is a long post because I want to be as blunt and thorough as possible, so the rest under the cut. 

Representation is important but by talking about how I think representation is important, I in no way want to suggest that I am perfect or comprehensive with representation in my own work. I apologize if it’s ever come off that way - that is not my intention. I’m still learning and growing all the time - as is the greater population and wider entertainment world - and this inevitably means that I’m going to make mistakes or be behind the times or have major blind spots. I try to stay aware of my blind spots and listen to people around me who are smarter and better, but that doesn’t mean I can instantly course correct. 

When I first started The Bright Sessions, never mentioning anyone’s appearance in the show was a specific intention. I wanted our listeners to be able to imagine whatever they’d like to imagine and, selfishly, I was excited to see different interpretations in fanart, should we be lucky enough to have people drawing our characters. I naively thought that was unequivocally a good thing. After all, I loved imagining my own personal versions of the characters in books I read or podcasts I listened to - isn’t that the benefit of having no visual reference? I realize now how short-sighted that was. I still do think there’s beauty in having a completely open sandbox when it comes to visuals, but I also know better now that concrete representation is vital. 

Since then, I’ve been grappling with different questions. If I were to confirm someone’s race, would I be taking away something from someone? What’s the balance of having concrete, meaningful representation versus leaving doors open for listeners to make characters their own? I didn’t think about race in casting - perhaps another naive choice - so in making any races canon, would I have to recast? Limit the character’s race to the actor’s race? Are the rules different in voice acting? 

And, were I to make something canon, how would I do so within the podcast? This might seems like a lazy, cop-out question to ask myself, but it is something I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about. Certain characters have voiced their sexuality out loud because sexuality is something you can’t see, but it might feel awkward or shoe-horned in to have a character identify their own or someone else’s race out loud. In TV and film, the representation is there because you can see it - it isn’t being told to you. But of course, people do talk about their own experiences as a POC in real life, but that would mean writing a conversation specifically about the POC experience, which I feel isn’t my place to write. So, then, ideally I’d hire a POC writer, except I only recently started getting paid for writing this show myself and the last thing I want to do is cash in on someone’s experience and talents and then not pay them. That seems like the way worse option. 

Now, you might ask, “why not just confirm it on here or somewhere else online?”. Because it’s one thing for me to answer questions about a character’s favorite food or birthdays, but in my opinion, something as important as racial representation only counts if it’s actually in canon. I’ve confirmed some things that are heavily suggested in the podcast, but I’ve tended not to give answers about things like sexuality and race because until those things appear in the show, I have no right to claim them publicly for my characters. That’s how I feel right now but, as with all of this, my feelings may evolve. 

(sidebar: I did confirm Chloe’s panromanticism on tumblr before getting to it in the show, but she was already out as ace and I had a pretty decent idea that we were going to talk about her exes down the line)

So those have been some of the many thoughts that have been running through my head the past two and a half years and I still don’t have perfect answers for them. They are not at all meant to be excuses - I’ve been fairly upfront about the fact that my two big blind spots as a writer are gender and race representation. I know. That doesn’t mean I know how to be better. To be totally honest, I’m pretty scared to tackle those subjects as a white cis writer. I feel more surefooted writing queer characters - even ones with a different identity than my own - and male characters - even though I’m a woman - because men have been represented plenty in media. But when there’s already such a dearth of good POC representation (and the spectrum of gender representation) it feels like a much weightier thing to take on. But that should in no way stop me. Just because I fear identifying a character’s race in an audio format might lead to clunky dialogue, doesn’t mean it has to sound exposition-y and awkward. If I want to be a good writer, I need to find ways to write meaningful representation in multiple mediums, without sacrificing smoothness of writing. If representation is important to me in my work - which it is - I need to walk the walk and make sure that I’m considering what the breadth of representation actually means. 

(another sidebar because it always bears repeating: not everything can be everything for everyone. I get a lot of asks along the lines of “will you ever have a character who is x” and the reality is that I’m not running through a checklist of groups to represent in my work because I think that does lead to bad storytelling. That being said, if I want to challenge myself by telling new and diverse stories (diverse in the broadest sense of the word) and if I’m someone who believes that entertainment can be a force for positive change, I will do my best to widen the spectrum of the characters I’m writing. But: I am not at all obligated to do so. If a writer wants to tell the same story about the same people in 900 different ways for the rest of their life, they are allowed to do that. I wouldn’t want to do it - I personally believe that if you’re making something for potential mass consumption (as anything on the internet is), you’d ideally have good intentions that it would have a positive influence on the world. But the entertainment you consume does not have a responsibility to you. An artist is responsible for their art - if you make something and it has an affect on the world, negative or positive, you have to live with that. But as an audience member, I don’t think I’m owed anything by what I consume because I choose what I consume, and all the baggage that comes with it. If I waited for that piece of art that is perfect in representation and entirely unproblematic, I would be waiting quite literally for forever. Which brings me to my final point...) 

To be completely, brutally honest, there’s a trend on tumblr/the internet in general that I’ve seen grow exponentially in the past ten years that really worries me. And that is the constant tearing down of anything deemed even slightly problematic. I’ve grown so much as a human and artist in the past three years alone and I live in fear of making a mistake that will end my career and alienate my audience forever. It’s easy to get the impression from the internet that there is no room for growth. I would be lying if I said that wasn’t a factor in me steering away sometimes from things where the chances of me fucking up and courting hate are high. Again - not an excuse. I shouldn’t give a rat’s ass what people on the internet think of me, I should stop being a coward and try things that are important to me, even if I do them badly on the first try. But I’m human and the truth is that strangers on the internet being mean to me actually really fucking hurts. And it especially hurts if I don’t even get a second try to do better. It is impossible and extremely dumb for me to wait for a time when I feel like I can tell certain stories without messing them up, but I think that’s an element of what I’ve been doing. That’s bad and weak-willed and I’m sorry. 

(final sidebar: this ask is not an example of the above. This isn’t a rude ask - you are well within your rights to be upset about this and as much as it stings to know I’ve disappointed listeners, it’s always good for me to know because that’s how I grow. I’m talking more about the hypothetical fear that I try to deliver on something that’s important to lots of people and fail and get a lot of means asks and then have a long cry about it.)

I don’t know if this sheds any light on my thought process or just muddies things further - I’m clearly still figuring things out. I think the main thing I’m trying to say is: I hear you and I know and I’m going to try and do better but that doesn’t mean I’m going to do things perfectly or even well. None of what I’ve said here makes up for the lack of representation or lets me off the hook, but I hope it gives you some insight into where I’m at now. The original run of TBS will unfortunately always be lacking in this regard - there’s nothing I can do to change that. But in projects moving forwards, I fully have the intention to highlight new voices and stories and perspectives. Especially now that I’m in more of a position to actually pay people. But I’m not going to sit here and promise you that I’ll satisfy you with my writing in the future. I have no idea if I will. I have no idea if I’ll even satisfy myself. All I ask, from you and all our listeners and my team and even myself, is that we continue being honest with each other and that we always, always leave room for growth. 

I’m sorry I’ve failed you, but I hope you’ll give me a chance to do better in the future. Stay strange.