#and then he just went on to spew some bullshit and say that jesus came to him in a dream and told him so

[dolokhoded]

there's something incredibly funny about the dynamic between me, fandomed your bible made them queers but has no actual extreme opinions about christianity because i think it's all made up and you can believe in whatever pleases you, and my best friend, somewhat orthodox (with a natural hatred for the church any actual christian should have), very lowkey and respectful towards everything, frowns at me when i slander the apostle john, but straight up believes with his whole chest paul was the antichrist and will argue with your 80 year old christian grandmother about it

[diamond-coral]

Defiance

Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes

WARNINGS: noncon/DUBCON: (oral sex (m and f receiving), intercourse, spitroasting), degradation, sexism. Please read at your own discretion!!!!!

Summary: You ignore Steve’s order on a mission. Him and Bucky have had enough of your bratty attitude.

“You’re decision was fucking stupid! I wasn’t going to follow an order that jeopardized the objective of the mission we’ve been planning for months!”

It had been like this for the past hour. You, Bucky, and Steve in the conference room at the compound in a screaming match over your little insubordination act on the most recent mission.

“Fine! Call my order, the one that ensured your safety, stupid. But what you did was reckless and impulsive and not only put your life on the line, but the others’ as well. Jesus, y/n, how do you even think like that?!” Letting out an exasperated sigh, Steve pinched the bridge of his nose and began pacing. “Your thought process was selfish and careless and you need to learn to listen instead of behaving like a brat.”

“He’s right,” Bucky chimed in. “Man I miss the good ol’ days when women knew their place and didn’t constantly have a snarky mouth on them.”

You cast the dark haired man a warning look, but he just smirked in response. He never made his sexist remarks directed toward anyone else. Only you. It was like he was aware of just how much his little comments riled you up, and just said them to make you see red, working them into conversations when you and the others would hang out. You’d get angry, spewing insults and jabs in his direction, and yet, it wouldn’t do more than simply amuse him.

“Bucky, I swear to God, you better not fucking bring this bullshit up right now or I’ll-”

“Or you’ll what, hmm? You think you’re a match for me, y/n?” His position on his chair, leaning back, legs spread, arms crossed, only added to the cocky grin that was now plastered on his face. “All I’m saying is that I feel like it’d be a win-win situation if you stayed back on the missions. You wouldn’t have to worry your pretty little head about high risk missions, and we’d get someone to stay back and take care of the base, maybe cook us a meal or two.” He got up and stalked towards you. You took a step back and hit the edge of the meeting table causing his lip to twitch upwards. “Even better…” He leaned down to speak next to your ear and you shuddered as his warm breath travelled down your neck. “We’d have a pretty little whore always ready to help us when we’re worked up.”

Your eyes went wide and you used both you arms to push him away from you (but in all honesty you were pretty sure he just stepped back on his own accord). “W-what the fuck Barnes,” you sputtered and glanced at Steve for help or some sort of interference, but Steve looked unphased as he rested his back against the wall, arms crossed. The only indication that he was intrigued were his blue eyes that glimmered with interest.

“Come on, Doll, I know you want it. You know we hear your pulse quicken every time one of us walks in a room.” He tapped his ear. “Enhanced hearing comes in handy.”

You felt your face grow warm, eyes on the floor as you remembered all the times your heart would jackhammer every time one of the supersoldiers came into view. Every night that your back would arch as you orgasmed to the thought of them with their hands on you. Every one night stand that you imagined one of them on top of you. You didn’t even notice as he neared until his right hand was brought under your chin to tilt your gaze to meet his own. His bright eyes held amusement. The bastard found this funny.

“Your despicable Barnes,” you spat.

“And you’re cute when you lie,” he said.

Before you can counter, his lips attacked your own, soft to the touch yet harsh in action as he brought his metal arm to snake around your waist to lift you up so sat on the table behind you. You let out a soft groan, and he used the opportunity to snake his tongue into your mouth. The unwelcome intrusion broke you out of your trance and you pulled away.

“Fuck you.” You began to get up, but he pushed you back down, this time all the way until you were on your back.

“Oh, gladly doll,” he murmured. He yanked everything off your legs before he lowered himself on his knees. “Catch,” he called to Steve as he threw your lacy panties in the broad supersoldier’s direction. You didn’t miss as Steve pocketed them.

“What the hell are you-.” You cut yourself off with your own squeal as Bucky licked a stripe up your folds. 

You began to buck your hips at the sensation in hopes of throwing him off and cutting your embarrassment short, but his metal arm came up and laid across your stomach. Bucky inhaled and let out a groan. “Holy shit you smell good, doll.” He flattened his tongue and licked another stripe before burying his face in your cunt and zeroing in on your clit. 

You whimpered as you felt his warm tongue circle your needy clit. The sounds that echoed throughout the room were lewd as he ate you out as if it were his last meal. 

“Bucky oh my God, please,” you begged as another slurping sound resonated throughout the room, but whether it was for him to stop or keep going, you couldn’t tell anymore.

“Taste. So. Good.” He said between each lick to your pussy. He inserted two thick, calloused fingers into your hole and pulled his mouth away, noticing your whine. “You say you don’t want this but your cunt says otherwise doll.” He smirked, and began to move his fingers faster, the squelching sounds seemingly spurring him on.

He put his mouth back down on you and began attacking you with more vigor. With each swipe over your sensitive nub, you could feel the coil inside of you begin to form. It was only when he wrapped his lips around your lips and began to also suck did you feel it tighten. He hummed against you and the vibrations went straight to your core. 

“Fuck Bucky. Yes,” you cried. He delivered another harsh suck and your hand flew to his hair.

Even as he ate you out you could feel his cocky grin form against you as you began to grind your hips to push you closer to the edge. A few minutes later, you came. Hard. You moaned as white hot pleasure overtook your whole body, covering the shame of cumming even though ten minutes ago you were practically recoiling at Bucky’s touch.

Bucky pulled away, mouth glistening with your arousal, and watched as your cunt pulsed and your body muscles contracted in your post orgasm haze. Thirty seconds later, you were hit with a wave of clarity, but before you could grab you clothes and get the fuck out of the room, a voice came from beside Bucky.

“Finally,” Steve said, and you jumped, not knowing he had moved from his spot. You noticed he’d taken his shirt off and there was now a very prominent bulge in his slacks.

You began to inch away from the man. “Steve, I-,” you began.

“Call me Captain, sweetheart,” he mused as he grabbed you by your hair and maneuvered you so you were standing, your front against the table. He pressed himself against your ass. “You know, we still need to fix your bratty attitude.” And with that his hand was flat against your back and bending you over the table. You grit your teeth as the table dug into your pelvis. “What do you think Buck? 10?”

“I would’ve said 20 but it’s not like a call the shots around here,” Bucky said, shrugging.

“What?” you said, and you were about to turn around to see what they were talking about, but a harsh smack to your ass quickly stopped you. 

“Count,” Steve growled while his hand came down for another.

“One!” You yelped.

Another hit to your ass. “One, what?” he asked in a teasing voice. He was mocking you.

“One, Captain,” you said with as much venom as you could.

“Good girl,” he mused before he delivered another to your other cheek.

“Two, Captain.” You were embarrassed at how your voice came out as a moan.

Eight more later, your ass was stinging as he rubbed it with a large hand before that same hand dipped into your folds to feel your arousal. “Gosh, you really must be such a slut if you got wet to that,” he chuckled.

He held his digits in front of you. “Open up, sweetheart.”

You stared daggers up at him but opened your mouth anyways, licking your own arousal from his fingers. Steve let out a satisfied hum before he pulled his fingers away.

“Now, what to do about that mouth of yours, hmm?” 

He walked around the table behind you, and you bit back bile as you heard him work his zipper down. 

“Turn her around Buck,” the Captain ordered, and in no time, Bucky was on you. Despite your struggles he manhandled you onto your hands and knees on the table so you were turned around facing Steve’s now hard member. “Suck.”

When you did nothing but stare back up at him, a harsh slap was delivered to your face. Steve bent down so he was eye level with you.

“You’re gonna listen to your fuckin’ Captain and be a good little slut and suck your Captain’s dick, or I’ll choke you till your unconscious and fuck your throat anyways,” he seethed.

Hesitantly you opened your mouth, and Steve shoved his cock in all the way, groaning when he hit the back of your throat.

“See Buck? Women are all the same nowadays. All bark and no bite. Just need to be shown their place and then they become good little fucktoys. Mindless whores.” 

Steve talking to Bucky right over you while he slid his dick in and out of his mouth made your face burn in humiliation, and even worse, turned you on, but you had little time to process it as Bucky’s hands were on your ass shortly, spreading it to get a good view of your pussy.

“Fuck Stevie, she’s wet.”

“Guess- you gotta- help her out.” Steve’s head was thrown back, face contorted into an expression of pure bliss, as he managed to string together a couple words to reply.

Ignoring your whines of protest around Steve’s dick, Bucky freed his own shaft and jerked himself off a few times before impaling you. You screamed a little at the intrusion that burned you walls, but Steve just ignored you and revelled in the vibrations it sent down his dick.

“Fuck she’s tight,” Bucky moaned, and began moving.

You whines and whimpers soon turned to moans, mixing with the obscene noises the two supersoldiers were making. Seconds and minutes began to blend together and you lost track of time as Steve and Bucky showed little mercy on you, chasing their own pleasure. As Bucky’s thrusts grew more brutal and quicker, your cunt began to clench around him.

“Shit. I think she’s about to come.” Bucky let out a breathy laugh as he picked up his pace.

“Told you. Mindless whore,” Steve replied, as both his hands were locked in your hair, pulling your mouth up and down his length.

At Steve’s words and Bucky’s renewed vigor, the dam inside you broke. 

“That’s it doll, milk my cock.” Bucky felt you practically squeeze the life out of his cock as you gushed around him, and his thrusts began to stutter. “Gonna. Come.” And with one final harsh thrust from him he bottomed inside you, cock twitching while his cum spilt deep into you.

Steve gave a few more thrusts into you throat before he spilt down your throat. He looked down at you and chuckled.  

“You look so good like this; Lips wrapped around my cock while you swallow my cum.”

___________________________________________________________________________

It had been a few minutes. Bucky and Steve were tucking themselves away back into their pants while you sat on the table catching your breath.

“Told you bringing in Bucky would be fun, sweetheart,” Steve said, cupping your cheek as he looked at you, panting and completely out of it. “But did you really purposely ignore my orders on a mission just to get me riled up?”

You sat up on the table. “I like it better when you're rough,” you giggled before giving him a peck on the lips. “And you…” You pointed a finger at Bucky. “If I find any bruises from that damn metal hand of yours, I’ll kill you.”

“I told you earlier, you really think you could take me?” Bucky teased, mouth in his classic lopsided grin.

A knock on the meeting room door sounded through the room before you could make a snarky comeback.

“Hey fuckers,” Tony’s muffled voice came through the otherside of the closed door. We have soundproof bedrooms for a reason. You guys better fucking clean up after acting like a bunch of horny teenagers.”

[forthemorefortunate]

Live Like Animals

Nessian Modern AU

Merry Chris-  er, happy New Year to my secret snowflake!  @ncssian 💕😅

I hope you like the fic! I’ll be honest, when I filled out the application for the secret snowflake, I said I could make a fic believing that it was very unlikely somebody would ask for one 🥴🤔 But lemme say, I LOVED writing this, which is definitely something I didn’t expect. More than that, I’ve never been much of a Nesta or Nessian fan, but actually thinking through their characters and interactions for this fic gave me a whole new perspective on and appreciation for them (even if I’m not the best at writing their characters, aha), so thank you!

A few quick things about the fic:

(Ik I already told you this, but for anybody else reading this aha) This is my first fic! So please take it easy on me 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

Okay so this part is kind of weird, but there’s kind of a corresponding playlist 😅 Each part is named after a song. You can play the songs while reading or not, I know for me personally (*cough* my ADHD ass) it’s hard to listen to music and read at the same time. The title is also the name of a song! Except that one is more random, haha (I couldn’t think of a title, so I shuffled my entire library and chose the first song as the title, and it kinda worked so I went with it)

One more quick thing – thanks to @moussescientist @ko0mbayamylord @blxckbeak @chanberry @mikitheswiftie @potatoburp @dead-on-the-inside666 @queenoffortunes and two anons for answering a question, and a HUGE thanks to Skye, @oneoutofamillionbooklovers for all your help and for roleplaying the parts I got stuck on with me ❤️

Part 1: Distant Early Warning (Rush)

Nesta pulled the dress over her head, letting it slide into place over her body. Screw this, she thought for the millionth time, yet she continued to get herself ready, turning to glance at her reflection when she was finished. She raised an eyebrow and nodded slightly at the woman looking back through the mirror. The woman Nesta spied had on a satin slip dress, darkest blue. She wore no jewelry save for the small silver studs in her ears, and her hair was pulled into a neat-yet-simple updo.

Why Nesta even agreed to go to this party she didn’t know. There was nothing different about it, just another college booze fest. The music would be too loud, the air too heavy, the guys too grabby, and the company too... clubby. Feyre insisted that she would fit right into her friend group – her clique – but Nesta wasn’t sure she wanted that. She padded over to the door of her apartment. No, Nesta was quite certain that “fitting in” with Feyre’s newfound friends was something she didn’t care for at all.

Nesta’s phone buzzed on her kitchen counter as she slipped on a pair of black heels, and she picked up to Feyre’s forcibly perky voice. “Hey! We just pulled up, you coming?”

“No.” Response blunt, tone dry. The line was silent for a long moment, and Nesta held in a sigh. “Did I give you the impression that I was interested in coming?”

“Nesta, I’m not in the mood for fucking around,” Feyre said, perkiness mysteriously faded now. “It’s just one party! I promise you’ll have fun.” Bullshit.

“Since when have I ever-”

“And everyone else really wants you to come, too!” Feyre cut her off, “Rhys is excited to meet you!”

Rhys. Feyre’s boyfriend. Nesta groaned inwardly, truly dreading any interaction with the rugby star. Feyre had immediately caught the eye of the local heartthrob, and the two began a serious relationship shortly after meeting. And with one came the others. In high school they would have been labeled “popular.” They were quite possibly the closest group of friends at the college, almost all of them having known each other since childhood. And Feyre had slipped right in among them. Nesta had warned Feyre against making the tight pack of fourth-years her main group of friends, and she had her own opinions about a freshman dating a senior, but Feyre didn’t make a habit of following Nesta’s advice. Rather, she seemed to think she could give Nesta – a third-year – much more valuable guidance. Domineering bitch.

“I don’t give a shit about your friends, Feyre. I’m only coming because of our deal,” Nesta said. Feyre had been pestering her all semester, spewing crap about how Nesta and Feyre should spend more time together. Nesta should get out more. Nesta should tag along with Feyre’s friend group. Nesta should have some fun. 

More bullshit. 

As second semester began, Feyre had proposed a deal: Nesta would go to one party with Feyre and her buddies, and if she honestly didn’t enjoy it, Feyre would stop asking her to join them. 

“I’m on my way. Let’s just get it over with,” Nesta grumbled, and with that, she hung up the phone and opened the apartment door.

Part 2: Can You Afford to Be An Individual? (Nothing but Thieves

Nesta looked around the group of fourth-years–plus Feyre–arranged in front of her. Introductions were unnecessary; you couldn’t attend this school without knowing who they were. Her eyes fell first upon Rhys, his arm around Feyre’s waist. His chin lifted slightly as she made eye contact. Rhys: double major in history and foreign policy. President of the astrology club. Captain of the rugby team, possibly one of the best players the school had ever seen. He was the group leader, though nobody said it aloud. Nesta knew him well. Perhaps she only knew his type well, or her own perception of his type, but that didn’t keep her from holding his gaze a few moments longer than would be comfortable. Then she turned her scrutiny on his sidekicks, so she called them, Cassian and Azriel. The former wore jeans and a baggy black jacket over his rugby uniform in the school colors: black and red. The latter wore black pants with a dark blue button-down shirt untucked.

Cassian smirked as her eyes met his. “Glad you decided to make an appearance,” he drawled. She narrowed her eyes at him, and his smile widened in response. Cocky bastard. Azriel, double majoring in political science and criminology, simply nodded at her in greeting.

After the sidekicks came Rhys’s cousin Mor, an architecture major with a minor in design. She was entirely too peppy in a way that left Nesta exhausted, but Nesta wouldn’t give her satisfaction by scoffing at her cocked hip and half-grin, ostensibly projecting confidence. She held Mor’s stare, matching her asserted confidence with a cool security in her own assets. The half-smile twisted, just slightly, and Nesta moved on to the short girl farthest to the right: Amren.

Amren scared people. As in, people were genuinely freaked out by her. Aside from a few cultish tendencies, her occasional propensity for violence and/or verbal outbursts, and her sharp expression, though, Nesta couldn’t tell why. Amren majored in gemology and minored in linguistics, and was the only one in the group other than Feyre to have not known the others since they were little. In fact, she was studying here from abroad, though nobody actually knew where she was from. Unlike Mor, Amren presented a confidence that Nesta could believe in and respect. Nesta maintained her chilled posture, but let the bite in her expression retreat.

As for Feyre’s introducing Nesta, that was unnecessary as well. They all knew her; most upperclassmen did. Or rather they knew of her, by the name of heinous bitch. If she were being honest with herself, she didn’t mind the nickname.

“Okay,” Feyre started, her voice expectant as she tilted her chin to look at Rhys’s face, “Let’s head in?” Feyre, Rhys, and Nesta had met up with the rest of the group in the parking lot before they entered the party. Fashionably late, Feyre had told her on the drive in Rhys’s tesla. Rhys taught me that the key to maintaining his public image is in making grand entrances. God, Nesta wanted to laugh at Rhys’s influence over her.

As they entered the building holding the party Nesta immediately stiffened, and had to close her eyes for a moment against the harsh blue and purple lights cast by PAR cans. All senses at once were smacked by the presence of weed. The floor was vibrating, and speakers blasted near-deafening music so that all Nesta could really hear was thunder. Jesus Christ, I hate parties, she thought. A mass of sweaty bodies shifted and bounced through the too-heavy air ahead of her, some only silhouettes in the murky haze, through which Nesta saw red solo cups littering every possible surface. Suddenly she noticed Feyre standing next to her, fidgeting with her clutch and looking over expectantly. Nesta shot her a withering look that said, “This is not what we agreed to.” Feyre had the nerve to look guilty.

“Okay before you say anything,” Feyre began, “I know that look, and... I know this is a bit bigger than we talked about-”

“A bit?! This is a rager, Feyre. Do I look like I rage?”

“Okay no, but I promise Rhys and I have a plan.” Oh my God.

Nesta gave her another glare and plucked a cup off a nearby table. Sniffing it, she sighed and took a big swig. “Please, my dearest sister, do tell.”

“We’re going with a buddy system.”

Nesta coughed. “A buddy system – are you fucking kidding me?” She spied Rhys and his dickhead friends in the corner of her eye. “Wow, are arts and crafts before or after beer pong?”

Feyre rolled her eyes, calling a fresh wave of frustration to roll over Nesta. “Can you shut it with the attitude, Nesta? I already apologized for the crowd of people – it kind of got out of hand. Rhys told me before we left but I didn’t want to scare you out of coming.” She gave Nesta a pleading look.

“Tch, whatever. Who’s my buddy? I assume you’ll be with Rhys?”

Feyre beamed at her. “You’re paired up with Cassian!”

“Cassian.” Great. Alpha dickhead.

“Don’t be like that. He knows his way around these things and he’ll keep you from accidentally overdosing or blacking out.” 

“Who said that wasn’t my intention?” 

Feyre scrunched her face up. “Either way, you can’t deny that he’s bigger and taller than half the creepy guys here. He’ll keep unwanted attention away.” 

Nesta watched as Rhys, lead hulking rugby bro dickhead, caught sight of her sister and eyed her with what might have been lust or love – Nesta couldn’t decide. Cassian, approaching from Rhys’s side, cut Nesta a slow, purposeful look down and back up to her face. She felt an annoying tingle down her spine as the crowds parted for them. This was going to be a long night.

Part 3: Inhaler (Foals)

They had been at the party for less than ten minutes and Nesta already wanted to leave. Drink in hand, she aimlessly wandered around the outskirts of the crowd, hoping to find a place to sit farther from the lights that drowned out any rational thought that flashed through her brain. Cassian trailed a few steps behind.

“So, what do you do for fun?”

She twisted around to glare at him. “Why are you talking to me?”

Cassian puffed out a laugh and spread his arms wide, responding, “If you don’t recall, we’re kind of stuck together, darling.”

Right. Nesta rolled her eyes. “How could I forget?” Cassian left the question hanging, still following her, so she forged on. “I like to read. A concept that’s probably foreign to you.” She dodged a young couple parting from the fray to make out against the wall, and paused to reorient herself.

“You might be surprised.” Nesta groaned inwardly and arched a brow. “Oh I have no doubt.”

“None at all?”

“What. Are you on volume seven of Captain Underpants?”

“Volume eight, actually.”

Nesta stopped. She was pissed. Pissed at this party, pissed at Feyre for lying about how big it was, pissed that she was stuck with rugby bro sidekick, pissed that the purple lights suddenly seemed a lot brighter, the music a lot louder, her thoughts a lot fuzzier. “Look, Cassian. I only came here as a favor to my sister. We’re not friends.” He started to cut her off, but she continued, turning so that they fully faced each other, “You don’t have to stay, I can take care of myself.”

He leaned in close, the laughter in his tone suddenly gone. “Listen, princess. You’ve had two beers and you’re already tipsy. I get it, we’re not friends. But there are at least four guys looking at you like they want to take you against the nearest surface and I’m the only man within a thirty-foot radius that has any self-control. There’s no way I’m leaving.” He held her gaze firmly.

“So that’s it – I’m just supposed to trust you? My knight in shining armor, here to protect my virtue? That ship sailed a long time ago.” Fuck it. “I wouldn’t mind taking you for a ride though,” Nesta said, flashing a smirk at the end.

Cassian’s lips twisted into a half-grin, but she could see annoyance rising up in his eyes. “Nesta, you don’t wanna play with me.”

“Brute.” Nesta turned and started walking away again.

“Bitch.” He followed.

Nesta scoffed. “How original.”

“Not all of us are English Lit majors.” 

Somehow Nesta tripped on her own foot at that moment, staggering sideways into Cassian’s path. He lunged forward, arms going around her waist to hoist her upright. Her lip curled and she spit out, “And not all of us are rugby stars,” and shoved her way out of his arms.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Cassian asked, incredulous.

“Cassian, I’m sure there are plenty of girls here that would love your attention. But I’m not one of them.” She turned around to face him, walking backwards, and almost tripped again. “So go on and play with someone else. I don’t care. Just leave me alone.” With that, Nesta thrust herself into the fray, pushing her way through the mass of shouting people, making the crowd a barrier between herself and Cassian.

Part 4: Emergency (Nothing but Thieves)

After five minutes of random college students bumping into her from every direction, her head pounding and thoughts muddled, Nesta realized she didn’t know which direction the exit was in. Fuck. She was disoriented and exasperated, her frustration now showing in her usually unshakable expression. She couldn’t even tell which direction the light was coming from. How many beers had she drunk? Two? Three? She wasn’t usually a drinker, and it hit her then that she hadn’t eaten for hours before the party started. Stupid, she thought. This was why she didn’t do parties.

She was so distracted trying to figure out where the light source was, trying to get her bearings at least, that she didn’t catch sight of a brooding figure wending its way toward her until the man had a hold of her wrist and was pulling her to the side of the room, wherever that was. 

“Hey! Get the fuck off me!” Nesta shouted over the crowd, but couldn’t get a response from the man until they found one of the cinder block walls.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice cruel as he tried to pull her closer. “We’re just having a bit of fun, that’s all.”

“Excuse me?” Nesta ripped free of his grasp, but he backed her into a corner. He had a drink in one hand. Not good.

“Hey, hey, no need to get worked up,” he drawled, “I saw the way you were looking at me.” Looking at him? Nesta thought. This was the first she’d seen of him.

Nesta tried to step to the side, but the man followed her, his senses keener than hers in her condition. He reached out for her arm again, and Nesta shouted this time. “Don’t touch me!”

He put his hand up as if in innocence. “Come now, I’ll make it fun for you. Just have a drink.” He brought the cup toward her face, his hand now reaching behind her head, which she snatched away.

“I swear to God, can’t you bastards understand that no means no?”

“You-”

“Get the fuck away from me, creep!” She aimed a kick at his groin, but he easily dodged it.

His mouth hardened into a line, and he growled, “Just take the damn drink, bitch!”

The man shoved her into the corner, her head hitting the wall. He brought his hand up to hold her back by her shoulders as he brought the cup up toward her lips and-

“Let me go or I promise you’ll regret it.” Last resort. 

He shot her a crooked grin and began to reply, but whatever response he had in mind was cut short.

A voice from behind him said, “And she never goes back on a promise, asshole.” The man was wrenched off her body by two strong hands, and pulled over to the side to give her an out, which she quickly took advantage of.

And there, dragging the man away from her, was Cassian.

The creep tried to play it cool. “Hey, Cassian, bro, what’s up, man?” he said mock-casually, “I caught your last game! great playing, dude!” His demeanor shifted completely as he turned on his bro mode.

Cassian’s jaw was set. He tightened his grip on the man’s shoulder, his stare withering. “You need to leave. Right now.”

Yet the man kept going with a smirk, “It’s all good bro, we can share.” 

That was a step too far.

Cassian grabbed the man’s shirt, pulling him close. “That’s the thing – I don’t share. I don’t play nice.” Cassian thrust his face forward so they were only a couple inches apart. “You said you caught my last game, right? So you know I don’t go down without a fight. Touch her again and you’ll regret it.” With that, he shoved the guy into a table, and turned to Nesta. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”

Part 5: Before We Drift Away (Nothing but Thieves)

Dizzy and shaken, Nesta let Cassian guide her through the crowd to the exit. Once they were outside in the cool night air, he pulled her aside, gaze dark.

“Did he hurt you?”

“No.”

“Did he force you to drink whatever was in that cup?”

“No.”

His eyes closed and relief flooded across his face. “Good. God, some people are fucked up. I don’t know what I would have done if he had drugged you, or taken you away, or...” He trailed off, leaving anything further than that unsaid. 

They were silent for a minute. Nesta looked up at him, a bit of worry still etched across his features. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you care so much?”

He looked over to her, something strange in his expression that Nesta couldn’t place. “I don’t know. You’re a human being, and your safety was left in my hands.” He paused and looked away. “If I’m being honest, when I saw that guy put his hands on you... I don’t know. Something flipped inside me.” At that moment he looked down to her bare shoulders, noticing that she was beginning to shiver. “You’re cold,” he said softly. “Here, take this.” He removed his jacket and draped it over her shoulders, even when she protested.

Nesta frowned as she gave in and pulled his jacket tightly around her, annoyed at the way her body betrayed her. “I don’t need protection. I’ve lived a long time without people to care about me.” She started walking toward the parking lot, and he followed.

“You shouldn’t have to live like that, Nesta. You’ve been pushing me away all night, but listen to me – don’t you understand? I’m not just talking to you because I’m bored. I don’t smile at you as a game, as if you’re some prize for me to win. Can’t you see by now that I’m doing literally everything I can just to stay by your side? Damn it, I asked Feyre to pair us together at the party.”

Nesta had stopped walking and was speechless for once.

Cassian stepped closer tentatively, as though she’d back away. He ran a finger over Nesta’s wrist and looked up to the sky. “Please, just don’t make me say anything else completely insane. I promise I’m not in the habit of sharing intense moments with perfect strangers.”

A rush of anger coursed through Nesta, and she shoved him back. “Don’t,” she said. “Don’t talk to me like that. Despite what you must think, I’m not an idiot. I’m not naive. I am well aware that this is all a favor to my sister. Stay with my lame, antisocial sister. It might be fun, right?” She paused, any restraint she had used earlier having completely abandoned her.

“That’s not what I think at all, Nes-”

“Fuck you, Cassian.” She shoved him again, more aggressively this time.

Cassian caught her wrists and pulled her closer. “Try that again.”

Nesta glared. “Bite me,” she spit out.

“Maybe I will.”

And as though drawn to her by some gravitational force, Cassian’s mouth came crashing down onto hers. He wrapped his arms around her waist, seeming to lift her off her feet. Nesta’s bare skin burned where Cassian touched her, and she pushed back against his touch to gain control. Everything, every thought was fading to nothing. Biting down on his lip drew out a low groan from Cassian, and Nesta broke free.

Cassian put his hands up as though to make a barrier between them, as though he wouldn’t be able to control himself without it. 

“So much for being the only man with self-control,” Nesta said. Cassian just shook his head, earning a light snort from Nesta. “I shut everyone out--even pretty jocks like you. Don’t take it personally. It’s just easier.”

Cassian smiled his easy smile, and he reached up to touch his lips with a thumb. “You think I’m pretty?”

Nesta scoffed. “The prettiest.”

He stood there for a moment, just smiling at her, before turning back toward the parking lot. “Okay, princess, allow me to introduce you to the pinnacle of after-party activities.”

Nesta raised a brow, and Cassian let out a bark of laughter.

“Get your mind out of the gutter. I’m talking about pancakes.”

She looked skeptical. “Pancakes?”

“Yes. And after the night you had, you deserve an entire plate of them.” Cassian reached out to her with his big, warm hand, and Nesta hesitated.

“Cassian-” She started warily.

“Hey – I’m not asking you to marry me, it’s just pancakes.”

Nesta waited a moment more, then took his hand. “Fine. But I’m not sharing the chocolate sauce.”

“I wouldn’t dare ask you to. Besides, you already know how I feel about sharing.”

Nesta smiled a bit. “Hey Cassian?

“Yes Nesta?”

“Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

[toovirgins]

January, 1972

Summary: In Paul's first interview since the breakup of the Beatles, things go slightly awry when a nosy reporter gets more out of him than she bargained for.

Part 3/3 (1, 2)

The doorbell rang.

Paul jolted awake. He was still on the couch, unsure of how long he’d been sitting there, but pale morning light seeped in through the cracks of the curtains.

In a half-daze, he struggled to his feet, trying to ascertain his surroundings. Why had he been on the couch? Who was at the door? Why were they bothering him at—he peered at the clock on the wall, startled to find that it was already 10:00 a.m.

He fumbled with the locks until the door finally creaked open, flooding the living room with bright daylight and making him wince.

“What the fuck did you do?”

Paul’s body froze at the figure in the doorway, clear as day despite a sloppy hat-and-sunglasses disguise.

“I—”

“I don’t want some bullshit excuse, Paul, because I woke up to reporters halfway up my arse and Rings on the line talking about some fucking interview you did last night. What did you do?”

“I-I’m sorry,” Paul stammered helplessly.

John pushed his way past Paul into the house, tossing his cover to the side with vitriol. He collapsed on the couch where Paul had been asleep only moments before and threw his head in his hands.

Paul sensed that it was his turn to explain himself, though nothing on earth quite sounded less appealing. “I might have… sort’ve… confessed.”

John raised his head, glaring at him wearily. Go on.

“I didn’t mean to. They cornered me. Wouldn’t stop asking about me new song, and it is about you, of course it’s about you, but I—I thought I was vague enough to—”

John laughed sharply, interrupting Paul’s train of thought. “Doesn’t matter anymore. I called you out on it, and now everyone’s lookin’ for cryptic bullshit in your songs.”

Paul pretended not to feel annoyed at the assertion. Suddenly, another memory came full force back to him, and his voice got quiet, eyes flicking away from John’s penetrative gaze. “They asked me about India.”

“They what? Paul, how the fuck could they know about India?”

Anger rose in his throat as he fought to defend himself in what seemed like an unwinnable case. “I don’t fucking know. No one actually knows but us.” There was an accusatory edge to his voice.

John was incredulous. “You think I had something to do with that?”

Paul crossed his arms, though he still wouldn’t meet his gaze. “It certainly wasn’t me.”

John was on his feet again in a flash of fury. His voice was saturated with sarcasm, but Paul didn’t miss the lingering of hurt in there as well. “Sure. You got me pinned, Macca. I’m such a little media whore that I went and spilled every little detail of the worst moment of my life to the press. And because I’m a selfish goddamn prick I encouraged them to ask you about it in an interview, so that I could laugh at your pain in my great new fuckin’ life without you. Because why? Because I like seeing you suffer?” In his effort to avoid John’s eyes, Paul noticed that the man’s hands were shaking. “I thought you knew me better than to believe in the goddamn press portrait of me.”

There was a lot more that seemed to be said in John’s words than the words themselves.

“You’re still bitter,” Paul whispered. The wrong thing to say.

John’s eyes flashed dangerously. He was shouting now. “Of course I’m fuckin’ bitter, Paul! You turned me down. You said no to me. I loved you more than—”

“Don’t,” Paul pleaded hoarsely, tears suddenly buzzing at the brim of his eyelids.

“You don’t get to do this, Paul,” he continued without missing a beat. “I loved you more than I’d ever loved anyone in my life. A-and I couldn’t explain it, because it was a different love altogether, and I’m not sure if that made it true with you, or just better, but-but it was real. It was the most real thing that ever happened to me, and I was so certain that you understood that too.”

“John,” Paul begged.

“But you didn’t. At least, not on the same level, because if you had then we wouldn’t be here right now.” John waved a vague hand in the air, his cheeks bright with fury. Paul couldn’t bear to see it reflected in his eyes. “So you don’t get to do this. You don’t get to write songs and go on television talking about how much I hurt you.”

Paul only swallowed.

“Did you know how fuckin’ hard it was to listen to that song, Paul?” John said abruptly, his gaze straight out the window and his hands balled into fists. His lip was trembling in its place under his teeth. “To hear you say that you were in love with me?”

“I am–“

“Bullshit!” John yelled, and for a brief moment, Paul’s eyes were drawn up and he thought that John might actually hit him. When John slumped back in surprise at his own outburst, Paul felt a flood of rage overtake him, energy transferred from one to the other.

“You don’t fucking understand, John! You’re not like me! You’ve never given two shits about what the world thinks of you. You act like you do, with us, like you’re some poor misunderstood soul, but you don’t.” Paul began listing on his fingers, ignoring John’s protesting gape. “The Jesus comment, Yoko, Two Virgins, writing song after song knowing they’re going to be banned. You spew your bullshit and do whatever you please and sometimes it feels like you’re trying to give the world the finger and that’s fine, con-fuckin-gratulations for you, but I’m not like that.”

He suddenly felt very tired as John closed his mouth into a firm line. Paul recognized the expression. Understanding. “I’m not like that. It matters to me. And I don’t know what that says about me, or how to fix it. So simply the sudden legality of it all couldn’t magically change my mind. And now that’s something I have to live with, for the rest of my days, because I know now that it would have been worth it. And we could’ve handled it together. I didn’t understand then, but I do now. And I do love you.”

John rolled his eyes in helpless exasperation. “So what do you want to do, eh? Say fuck-all to our wives, our families? Our new lives? Just because you were too chicken-shit to say something four years ago?” He shook his head. “It’s too late for us, Paul. What’s that they say? Right person, wrong time?”

The polite smile John gave in closing made Paul feel sick to his stomach.

“Why did you come here, John?”

The defendant shrugged. He took a few steps backwards and sunk back onto the couch. “Honest?”

Paul hesitated. He might have had enough honesty for the day.

John sighed. “Wanted to see you.” He gave a sudden glare, shooting down Paul’s curious eyebrows. “Not because I missed you. I wanted to see you try and explain yourself. I hadn’t known what happened in the interview, but I’m not bloody stupid. I could tell it was something of this… scale. And I was so fuckin’ tired of trying to read you over the phone.”

Paul felt the strange urge to smile. And suddenly, he was laughing, undeterred even by the expression of utter bewilderment on John’s face.

“Christ, all that? Isn’t it, like, five in the morning there?”

“Well, yeah, I told you—Rings called, and you Englishmen have no bloody consideration for time zones.”

Paul let out a chuckle that felt far too relieving. His smile quieted as reality began to sink in. “I’m sorry.”

John met his eyes for only a moment. “S’not your fault. They do it to me, too.”

“What are you going to do?”

He shrugged. “Deny. Deny, deny, deny. Don’t know what he’s talking about, must’ve gone mad, trying to frame me as a queer. Wanted to stir up a fight. I’ll think of something.”

Paul swallowed. He wasn’t sure what he expected.

John peered over his glasses, his mouth pressed into a firm line. He removed them slowly, folding them in his lap. When he looked up again, Paul felt a shiver travel down his spine at the familiarity of the amber eyes on his, unprotected, unveiled. They hadn’t looked that way to him in so long.

“It’s only me,” John said quietly. Paul could hear in the tone that it was meant to be soothing, but the words made his heart twitch violently. “You know…not to take everything I say about you to heart, yeah?”

Paul nodded, gaze cast downwards for fear of brimming tears.

“Sometimes I mean it. I’m allowed to mean it. But this?” He sighed. “Whatever happens, you have to know that we have to. They’ll believe us so long as we present it as another one of our publicized scraps.”

“I’ve got to be the bad guy,” Paul conceded.

John nodded a confirmation. “I’ll, erm… I’ll say that it’s an attack. That you’re trying to frame me as something that I’m not, because you’re still hung up on the breakup. And it’s my reputation you’re worried about. I’ll say you’ve been on a bender, and lucid-dreamed-up an idealized version of our partnership. I’ll make another offhand comment about how we hardly wrote together much less knew one another, and you… You won’t say anything. You’ll stay here with—” he suddenly seemed to choke on the words. “Linda. The kids. And you can talk to her about it, I don’t care. But that’s what I’m going to say, and you have to be okay with that.”

Paul only stared. He knew in the back of his mind that John was right, but that didn’t help the nausea coursing through his veins.

“You have to be okay with that,” John repeated, his voice trembling slightly. “For both of us.”

The words were so far from the truth in some ways and yet too close to the truth in others. John offered a hand to shake, but appeared to think better of it, withdrawing the deal almost immediately. He knew Paul would agree, anyway, of course he would. And neither of them knew if they could handle the contact, no matter how brief.

“I should be going,” John said after a moment.

“You could stay,” Paul offered, his mind frantically arranging a comfortable setup for John to spend a few days.

John pushed himself up off of the couch and gazed around the room briefly, looking for something he hadn’t left. “Why?”

The image of the pull out couch in the den crumbled to death in his imagination. “Yeah. Okay.”

John gave one last, awkward nod, both men standing helplessly in the middle of the room. He hesitated for another moment before shuffling over to the front door, grabbing up his hat and glasses beside it, and pulling it open.

Paul wasn’t sure what made him say it, but he couldn’t stop the words from flowing out. “I love you.”

John scratched the back of his neck before turning to go. “I–yeah. See you around, Paul.”

He shut the door behind him.

[knullanon]

black beetle won the fight yall

anyway heres that fic, sorry it doesn’t include him until the end, imma probably write a part 2, but only if yall want it lmao

warnings: homeless man being weird, underage drinking (reader does no drinking), kidnapping, running, lmk if there should be anything else!

words: 1715

“Jesus, _______, you don’t even have a public snapchat, what in the name of fuck makes you think that you’ll actually gain some followers on instagram?”

You rolled your eyes, and gave a small glare to your friend, who was sitting on your bed, scrolling through her phone. Currently it was almost 11 pm, and it was a miracle that Vanessa's parents were out on a weekend vacation. It was Friday night, and they had left her with you in the morning when you both had left for school. After that, well, it was chaos from there. You both had gone shopping, eating, and even got some… contraband from one of her friends. Currently, she was high as fuck sitting on your bed, and stating almost every opinion you were assuming she had hidden from you for your almost 2 year long friendship.

And it was not pretty.

“Seriously, you always bitch about that one chick, what's her name, Kathrine? You act like her opinion is the definition of your future. Like, who give a fuck if she thinks you’re too fat? You look like… fuck, what was I gonna say? I don’t remember.”

She was in the hyper and “paranoid” part of smoking weed a few minutes ago, but now that she's high and more relaxed, she's really let her bars down. It was kinda annoying you that she never mentioned to tell you this shit, but to be honest, you would’ve started crying if she said this shit in front of a bunch of people.

You mainly ignored her comments, most of them about your confidence issues and the fact that any opinion that was stated about you took 100% seriously. It hurt a little, hearing her say these things, but you reminded yourself that she's high, she doesn’t know what she's talking about, and it was a completely normal thing for people who were high to start spewing bullshit… probably. You’ve never seen her this high, but it was interesting to see her act like this.

One comment made you particularly mad, when she said, “You always act like there’s gonna be someone to save you, or something, like, this isn’t fanfiction, _______, this is real life, where people aren’t going to care about some girl with daddy issues. Just, really, accept it, your dads an ass, and hey, maybe if you’re lucky, one of those fictional characters who you like will come out of nowhere and give you whatever you want.”

You gave here a look and then asked, “Vanessa, you’re drunk. Let’s just- ugh, let's just get you home.”

 She didn’t object to you bringing her out the back of your porch (your neighbors were nosy) and you dragged her drunk ass through town, making sure to stay out of dark areas where people could grab you. Of course, there was no telling someone would actually do that, but you were still just a young girl: you couldn’t do jack shit against a 40 year old man.

Anyway, Vanessa was starting to regain her footing, and she was able to start walking n=by her own for the last 5 minutes. When you dropped her off, she insisted that she was able to walk by herself onto the steps and with that, you made sure she got inside her house, before you started walking back to your house.

Unfortunately, you had no idea that there were 2 people following you, both with completely different intentions.

~~~~

You ended up running when you saw the seemingly homeless man sprinting towards you. It was only a split second before you dodged his attack, where he would’ve had you in a neck hold, and you couldn’t have escaped: you were surprised that you even saw it in time.

However, you didn’t even try to feel the burning in your lungs, only the fear of what the man was going to do to you if he did catch you. You didn’t know where you were, going, you only followed your instinct. And it eventually led to you going down some weird alleway.

Which of course, you expected it to not work. It was long and dark as you turned but you didn’t have time to go back, he was right behind you, you could feel him. And then, almost halfway through the alleyway, you heard his shoes screech to a stop, and then him… gurgling? But when you turned around, you didn’t see anything, or anyone. Just one of his shoes. A singular, worn out shoe. You didn’t want to stay, oh no, you were getting the hell out of there and heading back home.

And while you sprinted out of the alleway, the second person who was following you was sitting on the top of the rooftop holding someone's dead body.

~~~~~

For the next few days, everything seemed like normal. Vanessa didn’t mention anything about the shit talking, she didn’t say shit about you walking her home either, and nothing about that weird homeless man and his weird bullshit. You felt relieved on the fourth day: nothing strange had happened, and you felt like something was slowly coming off your shoulders: nothing bad was going to happen, everything would continue as normal.

Right? 

You still had no evidence of anything happening, and Vanessa seemingly didn’t remember shit about the day, so you had to assume that it was just some weird dream: maybe you drank some beer with her and you ended up like this. You didn’t know if it really did happen, to be honest: you were doubting yourself. 

So, a week after the whole thing, you decided to head back to that weird alleway to see if there was anything that could help you. Putting on your most concealing outfit, just some sweatpants and a hoodie, you ventured out and started to wander around, wondering where the hell you went. Eventually you traced your steps, remembering little bits from the strange… night? Dream? You didn't know, which was also the reason why you were even here. Did that bullshit really happen?

You saw some evidence of you being there: a trash can that was still knocked over from the man, the man's little area he had set up to live, which was now taken over by another person, your pencil you had dropped trying to get away from him which was… in surprisingly good condition. You didn’t know why that gave you a feeling of dread when you recognized the alleyway: it looked like any other, but there was just… something off putting about it, even in the daytime. 

When you approached, you heard something rattle, like something metal had dropped. You rushed in, only to see just that, a trash can lid rattling on the ground, like someone was there. 

And along with it, that damn show that the man had left behind, this time, it was moved slightly. 

Ok, now this was weird. 

~~~~~

You didn’t like the feeling you got when you were walking back home. It was still bright out, many people out and about, happy and glowing in the sun.

You didn’t feel like that. You felt terrible. You felt like the sun was going to melt you with all of your layers of clothes, but you didn’t focus on that. You focused on the fact that yes, that night was real, and that it happened, and that that homeless man was gone and you had no idea where he could be. Of course, you didn’t care for a maniac like him, but it was the fact that he was gone that was bothering you. While on the way back home, you wondered what Vanessa would say about it, but you eventually decided against it. 

She would call you crazy and say that you were making it up for attention, for starters, and you would also have to explain why you were bringing her home, which would then have to have you explain why you wanted her out of the house. Not a situation you wanted to deal with. 

Anyway, as long as that weird man didn’t show up again, you would be fine. He couldn’t do anything to you anyway, right? He wasn’t even there! It had already been a week, what could he be doing?

Your fears were starting to calm down while you were making every excuse you could think of so that you wouldn’t have to worry about it. And then the part where he disappeared came into play. Sure, he had disappeared, but to where?

This made you think. Seriously, where had he gone? Where could he have gone? And why did it sound like someone was choking him when you turned around-

… Was there always a 7 foot tall man in your backyard? No, no there wasn’t. Quickly hiding, you tried to see what he was, but it was no use. He was really hidden, like you. Pulling out your phone, in case he actually saw you. Which you soon found out that yes, yes he did. 

You don’t know when he actually was able to get to you, but apparently, it was quick. You didn’t even hear him when he grabbed you by the back of your neck and pulled you up: almost like a kitten and their mother.

You looked up to see some weird armored figure. His armor was black, with little accents of grey here and there. He had two spikes on his back and he also didn’t have a nose. He looked… weird, a little, yes, but you were more worried about the bigass sword that had formed in his other hand. 

He stood taller (how?) before he asked, “Tell me, where are your parents?”

“Parents?”

“Yes, that’s what I asked.”

“I-I don’t know.”

“Well, are they in the house with you?”

“N-No, I don’t think so-”

“Great. Then you won’t need to worry about what’s about to happen.”

Before you could ask, he gave you a quick slap to the neck, and you felt something almost pinch your skin. You were going to scream, but nothing came out. Instead, you only fell into a pit of sleep, and you fell more and more, until you only heard wind rushing through your ears, before nothing more.

_______________

yall im tired af lol I should’ve answered more asks but im getting real slow and im sorry. ill try to get more requests out, im just getting overwhelmed by bullshit irl lol

[thorne93]

Inside The Criminal Mind (Part 24)

Prompt: You’re married to Dr. Spencer Reid of the BAU, and are a distinguished doctor yourself on the team. You’re sent down to Miami, Florida for teaching and as a side request from the FBI, to investigate a string of missing persons. When you think you’ve figured out who the unsub is, your life becomes more complicated than you ever could’ve imagined.

Word Count: 2441

Warnings: (throughout the fic –>) death, blood, gore, killings, language, disturbing mental notions, mentions of rapes/murder/etc (You know, Dexter and Criminal Minds related business)

Notes: Thank you so much to @arrow-guy​​​​​​, @carryonmyswansong​​​​​​, and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​​​ - without each of you, I couldn’t have finished, written, or properly navigated this story. Each of you helped me fish out details that were incredibly important to me. Beta’d by @carryonmyswansong​​​​​​ and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​​​… Aesthetic by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​​​

This is a crossover of Criminal Minds x Dexter. First time writing Dexter.

Also, the timeline is after Season 1 of Dexter, but during season 14-ish of Criminal minds into Season 15. Enjoy!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Alright, crime fighters,” Garcia began as she stood before the screen. “This one is a doozy. Bring your sunscreen because thirty bodies were discovered in the ocean in Florida. And none of them were in one piece.”

“Did fish get to them?” Luke asked. 

“No, they were found in bags. The, uh, nature of the mutilation was done by the unsub.” 

“Where is this at in Florida?” Tara wondered. 

“Bay Harbor, Miami. Hence the icky name of Bay Harbor Butcher,” she explained. 

She went through the pictures on the screen as you were drinking. You didn’t pay much mind to the things being said until she said that and you choked on your water. Coughing. 

Your blood ran icy hot. Your veins had been replaced with white hot rods of steel, your legs replaced with jello. 

Jesus fucking christ this wasn’t happening. 

Spencer glanced at you and patted your back. 

“Sorry. I’m sorry. Miami?” you asked once you got through coughing and everyone was done staring at you. 

“Yes, and it appears that some of them may be the eighteen cases you were looking at before you went down,” Garcia explained. “So, guess you’ve got some more to help you with the profile. If there is a bright side at all to this.”

“And on the not so bright side, we have another case in Oregon. Which means we need to split up. Reid, Y/N, Rossi, and Luke go down to Miami. Y/N since you know most of the victimology, catch everyone up on the jet. Matt, Tara, JJ, and I will go to Oregon.” 

The team was dismissed and everyone started to head for the bullpen before Spencer grabbed your sleeve and kept you in the conference room. 

“Hey, are these his?” he whispered, sure that everyone was out of hearing range. “Are they Dexter’s?” 

You nodded, a look of apology in your eyes. 

“Are any of them yours?” he asked even quieter. 

“Possibly,” you said. 

His face morphed into upset. “Alright. Call him and see what he’s doing to handle this. Tell him we’re on our way. I’ll go get our overnight bags out of the car.” 

You nodded again, trying to keep your composure. Jeez, lying was getting easier with Dexter, but when you were faced with scrutiny, it was earth shattering for you. 

You took out your phone and went into Derek’s old office where no one had been using it for years. You shut the door and turned the blinds so no one could see you. You called Dexter and paced, your heart hammering. 

“Hey,” he greeted, his tone serious. 

“Hey, so we just got a case for Miami, Florida. For dismembered bodies in bags on the ocean floor!” you whisper-yelled. “When the hell were you going to tell me?” 

“Look, I’ve got it under control.” 

“Really? Then why is my team being called in?” 

“That’s Captain Matthews. It’s a political move. Your team does the work, he gets the credit.” 

“Do you have any plan on how to fix this? Were you ever going to tell me?” 

“I’m working on it. I didn’t have time. They found the bodies last night and I’ve been up all night trying to think of a way to get ahead of it.” 

“You need to work faster.” You glanced up at the clock. “Shit, I gotta go. I’ll be down there in a few hours.” 

“Looking forward to it,” he sarcastically responded before you rolled your eyes and hung up. 

You exited the room where you saw Spencer with his back turned towards you. 

“Hey,” you greeted as you walked up. 

“What’d he say?” 

“Not much. We’ll talk more when we get there.”

With that, you two took off to the air strip and boarded the jet. Once everyone got settled and in the air, the victimology took off. 

“Alright, Y/N, catch us up,” Rossi directed. 

You cleared your throat, trying to keep your nerves steady as you looked around your teammates, trying to do your best to hide every minute facial expression, tick, inflection in voice, change of speech pattern. Lying to the beat cops was one thing. Lying to your husband was hard, emotionally. Lying to a team of the best profilers and cold case crackers - that would be a miracle. 

Not to mention you had to be sure not to include any details that weren’t found in the files sitting right in front of you.

But you had to do it. Your life, Dexter’s life, even Spencer’s life depended on it. You had to be cool, calm, controlled. Dexter had tested it out on you once or twice, lying, being interrogated, but it was hard with him. It was a killer interrogating a killer. 

“So when I was studying this, I narrowed it down that most of them had a run in with the Miami PD before going missing. Now though, that doesn’t fit. Not everyone had a run in with the law. In fact, some of them led model lives. That’s where I got stumped.” 

“Did you interview all the detectives and everyone that had come in contact with the ones that did go through the Miami PD?” Luke asked.

“Just about everyone on their payroll. Everyone admitted to interacting with some of them, to some degree.”

“Alright so we know the unsub chose an underwater grave, why?” 

“Forensic countermeasure?” Spencer offered and you tried not to smile at him, a sign that you knew he was trying to help you and Dexter. 

“But if that’s the case, why put them in bags? Wouldn’t you just dump the body parts by themselves, let the fish take care of the rest?” 

“The unsub might worry about the parts floating, or washing to shore. This way, if the bag is weighed down by something, it’s at least going to stay put on the ocean floor,” Spence countered and you wanted to thank him for thinking quick on his toes. 

“Did you get anything out of the victims’ families?” Rossi questioned.

“A little. Some said the ones that had run ins with the law wouldn’t be surprised if they left, others were still in hock that they left the house without their cell phone.” 

“Was there anything to tie them to the others? Maybe a past they didn’t show on paper. Did Garcia find anything?” 

“Not that I could see,” you admitted, trying not to sweat bullets. “I didn’t get a chance to get all of my info over to Garcia though. I had so little go to on. I checked into some of the cleaner ones pasts but came up empty,” you explained. That wasn’t a lie. Dexter had found out most of the dirty secrets and told you once you confronted him. 

“Alright. Luke, question the victim’s families again. Now that they’ve been found, I want to see if they’ll share anything else. I’ll go with the Reids to the PD. Hopefully a familiar face will set them at ease.” 

I hope something puts me at ease, you thought before looking to Spencer who gave you a face you couldn’t quite pinpoint. 

Before you knew it, and before you were ready, you were landing in Miami, and at the police department. 

“Ah, Dr. Reid, good to see you again,” Captain Matthews greeted, shaking your hand. 

“Likewise. Captain, this is my husband, Special Agent Dr. Reid, Special Agent Tara Lewis, Matt immons, and my boss David Rossi.” 

“So good to have you all here. You can set up in our conference room and I’ll gather my men,” he said. 

“Thank you,” Rossi replied with a nod. “Ah, so you left everyone with a good impression of the Bureau I see,” he teased and you smiled.

“Let’s hope so.” 

All of you entered the conference room and began setting up, when it was only an hour later that cops and the Captain started to file into the room. Dexter and his sister were some of the last to come in. You made eye contact and for the life of you, you couldn’t be mad. 

Well, okay, you were pissed, panicking, under tremendous pressure. 

But Dexter was on the line here too. No, when you saw him, you just saw… a friend. Dexter was smart, cunning. He had the help of his cop father to lead him out of this, and with you and Spencer on the inside, you could hopefully pin this on someone who deserved to be the unsub. 

When you saw Dexter and he gave you the tiniest of side grins, you felt… better somehow. 

Matthews spewed off some bullshit about working together and then everyone was let loose. Your team worked on the case some more, until it was 10 oclock at night. They hadn’t gotten very far. You all had to wait on forensics. It looked like most of them matched the files, but nothing had been confirmed except about five, and four of them were criminals. 

When everyone went their separate ways for the night, you and Spence headed to Dexter’s small workspace in the back. You knocked on his door and he  looked up. 

“Hey, got time for some company?” you asked with a smile. 

“Sure. Let me just put these up and I'll meet you downstairs okay?” 

You nodded before the two of you turned and walked out of the bullpen.

“Are we just supposed to go drinking with him now? Be friendly?” Spencer asked, the irritation clear in his voice. 

“I don’t have to pretend. He is my friend,” you reminded. You two had stepped into the elevator. “This is a chance to catch all of us up on what happened.” 

Spencer nodded, putting his head back against the wall. “I can’t believe this is happening,” he said. 

“I know. I’m so sorry to put you through this. You don’t deserve this part. I never thought you’d have to cover up for me like this.” 

“It’ll be tricky, but we’ll make it work,” he promised, looking down at you with a promising smile. The two of you got off the elevator and waited for Dex, who arrived in just minutes. 

“So, your place or mine?” he asked with a grin. 

“Yours,” you answered. You rode with him to his apartment. As soon as the door was shut, Spencer laid into him, something you weren’t expecting. 

“How could you let this happen?” he demanded, getting close to Dexter. 

“I didn’t let anything happen. I was scrupulous. I was careful, painfully so.” 

“Right,” Spence said sarcastically, his face made of stone as he stared Dexter down. “So careful that your victims were found by a fishing expedition.” 

“Look,  I made sure there was no trace evidence, fiber, DNA. Nothing can trace back to me,” he assured him calmly. 

“And what about Y/N? Can any of it trace back to her?” 

“No, I disposed of her bodies myself.” 

“And look at just how careful that turned out,” Spencer retalitated. 

“Hey!” you demanded. “Knock it off. Both of you. Dex, is there any cause for alarm right now?” 

“You tell me, you’re on the special task force assigned to this. What do you have? What have you given them?”

“Not much of anything. Since we are waiting on confirmation, we’re just reviewing missing persons cases.” 

“Then all we can do is wait. I can’t be proactive about something that shouldn’t even be happening. Nothing points to me, nothing points to Y/N. So can we all relax a little bit, please?” he asked, begging in his tone. 

“Relax? You want me to relax? Because of your negligence, my wife’s life hangs in the balance. If they trace anything back to her--”

“They won’t,” Dexter assured firmly, darkness encasing his face and tone. “As for your wife, she approached me, remember? She didn’t have to go rogue. That was her doing. Don’t blame me for her crimes. I’m just as exposed as her. Most of the bodies are mine, if anything, it’ll all be pinned on me.” 

“That sounds just fine to me,” Spencer snapped with a coolness.

“Hey,” you interjected. Both men were staring each other down before you sighed. “Arguing won’t help right now. Dexter’s right. We can’t fight something that hasn’t happened yet. We know they’ll look at victimology. All that will tell them is that they’re criminals and they have a vigilante.”

“And that most of them came through Miami PD,” Spencer reminded. 

“That wasn’t all though. We still have a few that won’t show up on those radars.”

“With Garcia? She’ll dig up all kinds of dirt.” 

“Yeah but maybe we can point her in someone else’s direction,” you offered.

“You want to pin this on someone innocent?” Spencer asked.

“For once, I agree with your husband. We aren’t doing that.” 

You balked. “Are you serious?”

“That’s taking an innocent life,” he reminded. “I can’t do that.”

“Okay, so how do we defer blame from us?” you inquired. 

“Sabotage the evidence,” Dexter realized, hope in his voice.

Spencer frowned. “Evidence? What evidence? All you have right now are the bodies.”

“Exactly. If we can decompose them quicker, they won’t be able to see the injection sites or pick up as much forensic evidence.” 

You questioned, “So what do you suggest? A giant body snatching?” 

“Not the worst idea,” Dexter commented. 

“We’re not hauling off tons of slimey dead bodies from a forensic lab,” Spencer argued. 

“Well, they’re being contained in that state of the art warehouse. Is there a way you could mess with the AC? Maybe swap samples? Anything?” 

“We’re getting a little ahead of ourselves here, guys,” Spencer suddenly said.

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, right now, the BAU has no leads. Like we said, even if we identify all the bodies, all they have is a pattern that vaguely leads to a vigilante. At best, we’ll profile a cop, someone within the police department, that will point to a dozen people. I think for now we should just see if it blows over. Maybe we won’t get any solid leads. But if someone sees one of us tampering with evidence, questions will begin to spark.”

You looked to Dexter. “It’s not a bad call. You don’t have a plan of action anyway. Best we can do right now is lay low, see what they dig up.”

“You mean what you dig up?” Dexter replied. “It’s your team on this. I’m trusting you to keep their eyes diverted.” 

“I’ll do my best but our team has solved nearly every case we’ve come across.” 

“Make this one of the ones you don’t solve,” he ordered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[athingthatwantsvirginia]

An Alice Man

PART FIVE OF THE DO YOU SEE HER FACE? SERIES

Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)

Warnings: mentions of death, plentiful pop culture references

Word Count: 4.2K

Summary: On a catastrophic afternoon, Ella confronts Jess about his evasive behavior. Later, the annual basket sale disrupts a weekend shift at the diner.

At first, she thought nothing of it. The snubs, when he would look away from her just as he caught her eyes, refusal to hold a conversation disguised as being busy. After all, she didn’t need Jess. She got plenty of social interaction at school and at work, but there was something suspicious in the sudden turnaround of their banter. The cold shoulder was getting old. Her patience finally wore thin on a stormy Monday. February had warmed at an unexpected rate, and the rain rather than snow had begun to fall the week before. Ella suspected another wave of snow would move in before the winter was really over, or she hoped it would. A fire of annoyance was brewing in her stomach as she jogged the distance from Stars Hollow High to the diner, having forgotten her umbrella in the morning. She had only her leather jacket, and had opted to shield her messenger bag instead of her hair in order to save her homework.

With damp hair and her dark eye makeup running a little under her eyes, she stormed into the diner. To add insult to injury, she had slipped on the gravelly slush on the way, and her jeans had torn at the knee. The edges of the ripped denim were tinged red, her skin scraped. She hung her sopping bag and coat from the hanger near the door. They dripped rainwater on the tile floor and she sighed internally. She would definitely have to mop later. Before anyone could say a word, she retreated to the kitchen and tried to ring her hair out. She ran some napkins under her eyes, and they came away dark with eyeshadow and mascara. There was no mirror in the kitchen, but she had a pretty good idea of what she looked like. The words “drowned rat” came to mind, and her rosebud lips were set in a tight, tense line.

Heaving a sigh, she tied her apron around her hips, nearly slipping again in her black clogs. She ignored the stinging in her knee and came around the counter. Rain always slowed business, and there were only a few people in the diner. Lorelai and Rory sat at the counter, Luke speaking with them, while Jess read Naked Lunch on the stool he had stolen and put near the door to the kitchen. He hadn’t looked up or acknowledged her when she brushed past him.

“Um, Ella?” Lorelai asked when she saw the girl.

Grabbing a pencil and a pad to shove into her pocket, Ella finally felt as though the rushed adrenaline was fading in her. “Hey, guys, what’s up?”

“Got caught in the rain, huh?” Rory surmised, eyeing her curiously, warily.

Ella furrowed her brows at their strange looks, and how Luke was averting his gaze from her. “Yep. I forgot my umbrella, I fell down on Main, I probably bombed my chem test, I lost my calc textbook and didn’t find it until I spent twenty minutes going through the entire math wing after class, and Jess still has my copy of Jane Eyre,” she enumerated her grievances, caught up in her rant, pointing an angry finger towards Jess on her last note.

On a normal day, she would have swallowed down her irritation and put on a fake sunshiney demeanor. But with virtually only Rory and Lorelai in the diner, she had ended up spewing out all her frustration. She didn’t mention the fight she’d had with her dad in the morning, though. That could wait for the next movie night in the Gilmore house.  

Jess looked up once, lazily, at the sound of his name, and then went back to his reading.

“Okay, honey, I’m sorry, but it’s gonna get worse before it gets better,” Lorelai said, trying to placate her. Sometimes, Ella could get wound as tight as Rory, though always for different reasons.

“What?”

“The shirt situation is not lookin’ so good right now,” Lorelai informed her. Luke had begun puttering with the cash register, checked out from the conversation.

Ella looked down at her shirt and immediately flushed scarlet. She’d worn a white long-sleeve with a black outline of Lou Reed’s face. With the saturation from the rain, the white cotton had become almost entirely see-through and her black bra was completely visible.

“You have got to be kidding,” she said softly to herself, burying her face in her hands.

Again, Jess looked up at the noise and assessed the situation, sputtering something between a sound of surprise and a chuckle when he saw what had happened. Ella arched an eyebrow at him, then switched from thinking mode to acting mode. She grabbed Jess by his sleeve and began dragging him towards the store room.

“Jesus! What-” he began, but she cut him off as they made it into the back.

“What the hell is your problem?!” she exclaimed, crossing her arms over her chest self-consciously.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said dejectedly, avoiding eye contact.

“Really, tough guy? You don’t know?” Ella asked, forcing him to meet her gaze. “Look, I know we’re not best friends. In fact, we barely even count as coworkers! And honestly, I couldn’t give a fuck if you ever talk to me again. But, I want my books and my records back! And the next time you wanna hide a black eye from Luke, I wouldn’t count on me helping you!”

“Eleanor, I-”

“Don’t Eleanor me, Jess,” she scoffed.

Jess cast his eyes down at his black boots, and Ella was surprised to find him looking squirmy.

“Luke told me, alright?” he said after a long pause, finally facing her.

“Told you what?” she demanded.

“About your mom and your dad and why you work here,” he blurted out, trying to maintain his hard exterior though embarrassment crawled beneath his skin.

Biting the inside of her cheek, Ella brought a hand to her necklace and let out another long, frustrated sigh. “Alright. Yes, my mom’s dead and my dad’s not winning any parenting awards. What does that have to do with you morphing into a jackass the last few weeks? More of a jackass than normal?”

“The entire town hates me. And I don’t care. But I figured it would be better for you not to have to deal with-”

“Yeah right,” she mumbled, glancing back at the door to the diner, hoping no one could hear them but knowing everyone probably could. “Luke told you to stay away from me, didn’t he?”

“No, he-”

“Don’t bullshit me, Jess.”

“Alright, fine, yes. But I get it.”

Running a hand through her hair, Ella tried to quiet the emotions swarming around within her. “Well, I’m flattered you’ve decided to give me so much choice in the matter.”

“I-”

“Y’know, I’m pretty sick of everyone assuming I’m some scared little girl who needs protecting!” she fumed, speaking with her hands. “Because, guess what, I got dealt a bad hand. And I made it through almost entirely on my own. I’m almost eighteen years old, and I get to choose what I do and who I hang out with! Alright?”

Ella shot him an expectant look. Jess crossed his arms and sighed, nodding in acknowledgment.

“Great! And, just so we’re clear, I’m plenty smart enough to avoid your dumbass antics on my own!”

Her face was set in determination, posture rigid. Redness warmed her skin, her hazel eyes alight with fire. Jess waited a beat, to see whether or not she had finished. After a moment, it seemed like her speech was over. Heaving a breath, Ella fiddled with her blonde waves once more, trying to calm her nerves, remembering again what a shitty day she’d had. But at least she knew what was up with Jess. She knew she would have to assure Luke of her safety at some point, but she had to calm down first. Ever since her mother had died, he, along with Lorelai, had begun looking out for her. It was appreciated, but coupled with the concern of the rest of the town, she, at times, felt suffocated. Especially considering none of those people had to come home with her and face the daily trash of the Stevens household. They didn’t have to listen to her father fucking his new girlfriend in the middle of the night and walk past the old photographs of her mother the next morning. Not even if they continued dropping off random pity casseroles.

Finally, Jess broke the charged silence. “Do you want me to grab you a shirt from upstairs?”

Swallowing thickly, Ella nodded. She wrapped her arms more tightly around her middle. “Please.”

“When I get back, if you want, I can give you my full Jane Eyre review,” he said, his regular smirk returning.

Ella’s muscles relaxed, and she felt relief flood her system, though her voice still held a pronounced bite. “Well, it took you fucking long enough!”

.   .   .

Wiping down the main counter, Ella still fumed beneath her surface. Her blood had cooled about Jess. With everything he had on his record already, she could understand him not wanting to piss Luke off. Well, not piss him off more than the moderate amount he did on a daily basis. But then there was Luke and Lorelai. It made sense for them to team up as her surrogate guardians in the wake of her mother’s death considering how completely in love with each other they were. But Ella never had any interest in talking about what happened, and she would be lying if she said she wasn’t insulted to be treated like an aimless toddler. The moment her mother died, everyone started seeing her like the little girl in overalls and blonde pigtails she once was.

Heart beating nervously against her ribs, Ella glanced suspiciously from side to side. It was past nine, closing time, and Jess was in the back washing up the last of the dishes. Luke was unplugging the equipment behind the counter. Ella cleared her throat anxiously.

“Um, Luke?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you tell Jess to stay away from me?” she asked pointedly, having stopped her circular movements of the dish towel in her hand.

Luke froze, facing away from her. She saw his shoulders tense beneath his red flannel. After a beat, he turned back to her and crossed his arms. Leaning against the back counter, he took on an all-knowing stance. However, Ella could not help but think he gave off a less emotionally intelligent vibe than he was going for.

“I just don’t want him getting you into trouble,” he began warily.

She raised her eyebrows, mirroring his stance. Jess’s grey thermal shirt hung loosely on her frame, the sleeves rolled up in bunches to her elbows. Her hair, tied back loosely in a low ponytail, had finally dried. And she’d salvaged her eye makeup in the bathroom with the help of paper towels and sink water. But still, her body was tired from the trials of the day. Monday was usually upsetting, but only very rarely so disastrous.

“Did it ever occur to you that I can keep myself out of trouble?” she asked, subtle hostility dripping from her tone.

“Ella-”

“No, really, am I so helpless that I can’t avoid gnome-stealing?” she asked seriously, maintaining constant eye contact.

Luke mulled it over in her head, then nodded his head, conceding. “Okay, I’m sorry. I was just worried.”

She sighed. In spite of her mood, a small, kind smile crossed Ella’s lips. “Really, Luke, you don’t have to worry. I’m not even friends with that jackass. I’m just educating him in quality literature and vinyl collecting. He has no taste.”

Matching her smile, Luke nodded again and went back to work. “Okay, just don’t let him bother you.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

.   .   .

Tossing a dull pencil behind her furiously, Ella growled slightly. She retrieved a second pencil from the bun in her hair, underlining another phrase. The streets of Stars Hollow were slick from a cool morning drizzle, leftover fall leaves, shades of gold and orange, stuck to the asphalt. Biting her lip in concentration, she only let up when she began to taste coppery blood. She was glad for the silence in the diner. The annotations alone were enough to make her brain feel like it was going to implode. Even the mid-morning regulars were occupied, as the entire town stood on the grassy square facing the gazebo. The annual basket sale was underway, the meals for sale ranging from Lorelai’s inedible ruffage to Sookie’s impeccable lunch.

“Y’know you’re gonna end up takin’ someone’s eye out,” Jess drawled, hunched over his own book on a stool near the register.

“Thanks for the warning,” she deadpanned back.

Sighing, Jess saved his place in his book and tossed it on the back counter. “Why don’t you take a break? You’ve been at that for like three hours.”

“No can do,” she said, still not taking her eyes from the text in her hands.

Jess scoffed. “What are you up to anyway?”

Ella groaned at his persistence, finally shutting her book with a snap! “It’s for my spring paper. I’m comparing the modernist depiction of Catholicism in Portrait of the Artist and Death Comes for the Archbishop.”

“I thought you loved James Joyce? A very misguided preference, by the way.”

“I do,” she snapped, her tone wary. “But he’s just one half of the paper. I’m reading Cather right now and I fucking hate it.”

“Sorry to hear that. It’s tragic,” Jess said flatly.

“Bite me.”

Just as they were both getting back into the groove of their reading, Lane burst through the door with a frantic look. She bumped into a few tables on her way to the counter, the metal legs screeching against the tile floor. Ella eyed her in slight amusement and concern.

“Where’s the fire, Lane?” she asked.

“Okay, Ella, I need you to take a deep breath before I tell you this,” Lane began in a sugary voice, refusing to make eye contact.

Ella narrowed her gaze. “Why?”

Jess looked up curiously.

“I really think you should-”

“Lane,” Ella said, dropping her book and pencil, trying to keep her tone even though her heart was in the throat. “Just spit it out. I can take it.”

“Miss Patty made you a basket and they’re about it to bid on it,” Lane said in a rush, taking a step back in preparation for the outburst she knew would follow. She was correct.

“What?” Ella exclaimed, immediately scurrying out from behind the counter and busting through the diner doors. Before leaving completely, she called out in the direction of the stock room, where Luke was doing inventory: “I’m taking my fifteen!”

His interest piqued, Jess hopped down from his stool and followed. Throwing on his jacket and stuffing his hands in his pockets, a smirk formed on his lips at Ella’s irritation. She had her arms wrapped tightly around her middle as she jogged to the square, stopping at the edge of the large crowd where she found Miss Patty. A damp chill blew in the spring air.

“Patty, did you make me a basket?” Ella asked the woman in the drapey velvet outfit.

Blowing a stream of blue smoke from her dark red lips, Patty nodded and laughed. “Of course, dear. I think it’s about time for the summer of your youth.”

Ella shut her eyes for a moment, collecting her anxious words. “I appreciate the concern but I don’t need any help-”

“And, next up, we’ve got this beautiful little basket for everyone’s favorite waitress, Ella Stevens!” Taylor announced from his podium in the gazebo, readying his gavel for the impending bids.

“Trust me. You’ll thank me later, doll,” Miss Patty winked, a knowing smile spread over her made-up face.

Sighing heavily, Ella turned to face the gazebo and felt a mix of panic and frustration churning in her stomach. She looked around for Lane, a desperate search for a friendly face, but Lane had already found the cousin who had bought her basket. Ella knew all about the plot to share the basket with Henry, the boy Lane had met at the Chilton party. She would have been happier for her friend if their method of dating didn’t involve such an insulting town tradition. Instead of Lane, she found only Jess standing beside her, failing to hide his laughter. She rolled her eyes at him, face flushing scarlet when Taylor announced the first bid.

“We’ll start at five dollars!”

“Fuck me,” she growled under her breath.

“Language, Eleanor,” Jess mocked from her right side. But then, he raised an arm and shouted: “Ten dollars!”

“What the hell, Mariano?” she hissed, trying to grab his arm and lower it.

Taylor acknowledged Jess’s bid and waited for another taker to show a hand for fifteen dollars. After a beat of silence, Ella felt the heat on her face growing. She felt as though the entire town had eyes on her. Mercifully, there was little bidding. After a few more random bids from a couple boys she only vaguely recognized from school, Taylor struck his gavel on the podium, and a meager amount of applause sounded. Ella tried to catch Jess’s attention to chew him out as he walked up to retrieve the basket, but he ignored her attempts at engagement.

“And sold for thirty dollars to the nice young hoodlum in the back!”

Strolling back to Ella, Jess could already see the frustrated crease between her brows. She had her arms crossed over her chest defiantly, and he nodded his head for her to accompany him as he began the short walk back to the diner.

“Jess, what-”

“Shall we?” he asked, finally casting her an expectant glance.

“What are you talking about?” she asked, stepping in front of him and putting a hand on his chest.

“Let’s go eat. You should probably grab your jacket first, though,” he reasoned, the smirk never leaving his face.

Slowly, the tension began to leave her figure and her expression cooled off. Her eyes widened in surprise, a bit of confusion, and she laughed nervously. “I’m working. So are you.”

“Really? Because I think I just saw Lorelai run in there and turned the sign closed.”

Over her shoulder, Ella saw Lorelai pushing Luke from the front door, pleading with him to bid on her basket. And when the sign was in view again, she saw it indeed read Closed. Scoffing in disbelief, Ella tucked a wild piece of hair behind her ear.

“I really think it’s time to solve the mystery of whatever Miss Patty thought your suitor would like for lunch. I’m starving. Aren’t you?” Jess gestured to the basket and his smirk turned to a smile.

Shaking her head self consciously, Ella turned a glance down to her black converse for a moment before looking back at Jess. “Alright, but we need to be back for the dinner shift.”

“Good,” Jess said quickly, brushing past her to the diner. “C’mon, we don’t have all day.”

.   .   .

Afternoon light glimmered off the lake as Ella and Jess walked down the dock. Birds chirped from somewhere off in the surrounding woods, and Ella took in a deep breath of the clean nature. Out on the dock, the pine permeated the air pleasantly. Though the breeze was cool, the sun shone down and warmed her face as she glanced up to the clouds passing across the pristine blue sky. It struck Ella how long it had been since she had really enjoyed the weather. The thought almost made her embarrassed, such a simple perk of life she had been ignoring. So often it felt as though she viewed her reality through window panes, only the room changing around her. She was reminded of Emily Dickinson, watching the world change around her and experiencing it all through only her imagination and her poetry. There was such a bittersweet beauty to the thought, and it painfully struck the small part of Ella’s heart reserved only for private wishes.

“Earth to Eleanor,” Jess said, waving a hand in front of her face. “Jeez, what’s on your mind?”

She smiled and shook her head at herself, following Jess’s lead as he sat down on the edge of the dock, placing the basket in between the two of them. “Emily Dickinson.”

Jess rolled his eyes. “Has anyone ever told you how wildly unpredictable you are?”

“All the time.”

Chuckling, Jess poised his hands over the basket lid, eyebrows raised expectantly. “Ready, Nancy Drew?”

“That I am. Which Hardy Boy are you? Just so we’re clear on this metaphor,” she said with mock gravity.

“I think I’m a Frank,” Jess answered.

Ella nodded. “Yeah. I agree.”

Slowly, dramatically, Jess pulled back the lid of the basket, a fake sunflower garnishing the top. Frankly, though, it had been one of the least tacky baskets of the entire bunch. Inside, they found pastries. Tons and tons of pastries. Just from the sweet and yeasty smell, so familiar, Ella knew they were made by Fran at Weston’s bakery. They were assorted danishes. Jess tentatively pushed them aside to see if there was anything else, but the danishes were it. As the realization came over both of them, Ella erupted in laughter.

“Okay, seriously, what the hell?” Jess asked through his own breathy chuckles. He watched as Ella threw her head back, her blonde hair glinting in the sunlight, gripping her stomach as she laughed.

Catching her breath, Ella shook her head knowingly. “I have zero explanation for this. She means well.”

Jess snorted. “Clearly.”

They both took a danish each, the crinkling of wax paper as they began eating the only sound besides the gentle lapping of the water against the dock and the chirping birds. Ella opted for an apple, while Jess took a cherry.

“So, why does Miss Patty think you need a basket anyway?” Jess broke the ice again after a moment of comfortable silence, both their gazes trained on the greenish-clear water before them. Across the expanse of the lake, there were only pine trees, the spring grass was just beginning to come back in patches below them.

Ella rolled her eyes and grimaced. “She thinks I need someone to ‘share my youthful body with while it lasts.’”

“Wow."

“I know. Patty’s always meddling, but I’m not big on the dating thing.”

Something indecipherable passed across Jess’s face for a moment at her words, but Ella barely noticed it. She swallowed down the last of her danish.

“And you hate the basket thing?” he asked through crumbs.

“It’s just so fucking sexist. Parading the women of Stars Hollow around, literally giving them away to the highest bidder. I know it’s tradition, but it’s such bullshit,” she said, speaking with her hands as her passion mounted.

Jess nodded, and Ella was surprised to see how earnest he looked. “Yeah, it is very...Henry VIII. Isn’t it?”

“Totally. I’ve tried to bring it up at town meetings. But old habits die hard, apparently.”

“That they do.”

“Why’d you do it?”

“Excuse me?”

She gestured to the basket between them. “Why’d you buy my basket?”

Jess shrugged. “I don’t know. Heat of the moment. You seemed pretty pissed. Thought I’d save you from those other assholes who were bidding.”

“I don’t need any saving,” she remarked pointedly, though she then shot him a benevolent look. “But thank you.”

“Duly noted and you’re welcome. If it makes you feel any better, it wasn’t my intention to support an antiquated, patriarchal mating ritual,” he said, almost sheepishly.

She hummed in acknowledgement, watching two birds chase each other through the trees across the lake. They were two cardinals, bright red against the muted greenish brown landscape.

“I just didn’t want you to have to spend a picnic with a baseball player. They’re mindless,” he joked, tilting his head at her. “Does that make you feel any better?”

“Marginally.” She smiled, taking another deep breath of the fresh air. She tugged her black corduroy jacket a little tighter around herself, clearing her throat and stealing a glance at Jess. “Y’know, you could be like this all the time if you tried.”

“Like what?”

“Not a dick,” she said bluntly, raising her eyebrows.

Jess laughed evasively. “Well, I’m glad you see me in such a positive light.”

“Look, I’m not trying to…” she trailed off, sensing his discomfort. “One day, you’re beating the hell out of Peter Smith and torturing Luke. And then, you’re buying my basket to rescue me from a stale afternoon with the Stars Hollow High catcher. You’re getting to be quite an inconsistent jackass. It’s just...curiouser and curiouser.”

Scoffing, he tossed her a knowing look, the backhanded insult rolling off him like water. He knew it wasn’t exactly meant as a slight, but more as a question. “Well, I’ve got to keep you on your toes. Y’know, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.”

A wide grin crossed her face, her hazel eyes lighting up. “I never pegged you as an Alice man.”

“Well, I think we’ve established I’m full of surprises.”

[tessatechaitea]

Kid Eternity #2

This cover says, "Don't look at who wrote it! Just look at how interesting these visuals are! Sucker."

In my review of Kid Eternity #1, I threw out a few theories on why Ann Nocenti's writing is so weird. After reading page one of this issue, I've thrown those theories out again but in a different way. That makes complete sense if you understand English idioms and also understand that everything Ann Nocenti writes is basically pre-trash.

This is page one of Kid Eternity #2 and it will probably get this review banned on Tumblr.

I have a new theory: Ann Nocenti asked what a Vertigo comic book should be and editor Tom Peyer probably joked, "They're mostly tits and profound nonsense." So Ann Nocenti's vagina gobbed in her underwear and she squealed with glee. "That's what I do!" she chortled merrily! I probably shouldn't abuse Ann Nocenti for writing things I don't understand. I have plenty of choices of other people to abuse for it: my elementary school teachers for not calling me out on doing just enough to get by; my junior high school teachers who let me get away with not putting any effort into big year-end projects (In science, we were supposed to make a stone age tool. I rubber glued a carved-to-a-shoddy point stick to another stick (which was worse than my friend Robert who put some pine needles into a split stick, calling the weapon "Ow"); in English, we had one project based on Romeo and Juliet (because all we did that quarter was watch and read various versions of the play) and I refused to do it because the teacher was wasting my time; in Computers, I found Dan Felipe's project, a trivia program, and I just copied it and used it for my own project (changing all the questions and line numbers and other things to make it seem like it wasn't plagiarized but, I mean, come on! In fairness to me, I only did it because the stupid fucking school changed computers halfway through the semester, dropping the TRS-80s for Apples and my project was relying on the Poke images of the TRS-80 to create an animated sequence)); my high school English teacher, Mr. Borror, for reading nearly everything I wrote in front of the class so that I began to think I was the wittiest fucker in Santa Clara High; my college teachers for some reason or another that allows me to not blame my own lack of ability; and probably my parents because if they were any good at their parental jobs, I wouldn't be writing a blog about comic books. In other words, I'm sure Ann Nocenti is a philosophical genius while I'm just a guy who blames everybody else for things I don't understand. Even if I truly felt Ann Nocenti was an underrated genius whose writings I'm incapable of parsing, I would never ask her to explain what she meant by this first page of Kid Eternity #2. I just wouldn't feel comfortable putting her on the spot like that. It's not up to the artist to explain their art to the foolish audience! Only the Christian Messiah bears that responsibility (and, let's face it, he wouldn't have had to explain every fucking parable if he'd been able to convince smarter people of his bullshit). So if it's up to me to interpret this first page gibber gabber, I suppose I should get to business. Or kill myself. I mean, killing myself would be easier and less painful. And I totally would kill myself before reading more Ann Nocenti comic books except I have plans to cut my toenails in a few months. Before I begin trying to understand this hogwash, I'd like to point out that if she'd written it as a sonnet, I wouldn't have a problem with it. I'd read it, think, "Yep, that's a sonnet!", nod my head in sage understanding, and then jerk off to the titties. But this is not a sonnet so it is not allowed to be obtuse simply for obtuseness' sake. So this fucking speech. First off, who is speaking? The serpent trying to fuck the naked lady? Is this the speech the serpent used on Eve to get her to eat the fruit from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil? Although if that's the case, how would talking about Buddha convince Eve of anything? I'll assume the serpent is omniscient (because he may or may not be Satan, depending on what holy men or con artists you believe but certainly isn't Satan if you're simply going by the Book of Genesis. I bet the serpent was God doing one of those Zeus things minus the rape. Zeus loved to trick people so he could get laid; Yahweh tricks people to test their faith). I guess since she had yet to eat from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil (come on, God! That name is terrible), she wouldn't know what she doesn't know and can't defend against any nonsense the serpent spews at her. Let's assume the art goes with the speech and it's the serpent speaking. So why is "God in repair" and what the fuck does that mean? And why is it followed by the statement, "Why not call the wisest man a freak?" Does the snake only speak in non sequiturs? Was that a stupid question since I already know the snake's dialogue is being written by Ann Nocenti? It is kind of refreshing to see that her dialogue style never changed in thirty years. The shit the serpent says on this page could be nonsense spewed by Coil from Nocenti's New 52 Katana. You know what? I don't have to continue this because, in the end, it's just a carnival barker's pitch to get people to believe in the freaks in his freak show. He's all, "What's the difference between freaks and religion?!" That's not a riddle I have an answer for. The only religious joke I know is "What do Noah's Ark and The Bible have in common?" That might be a joke that was extant before I came up with it but I did come up with it on my own. And I think the answer is so obvious I would be insulting the intelligence of all four people reading this. Oh, and the snake trying to fuck the lady? It's a tattoo on the Tattooed Lady. The reason the comic begins in a circus freak show? Because Kid Eternity is the newest freak on display! The opening sideshow scene is just one of Kid Eternity's dreams. The demon angel babies get into Kid Eternity's dream and when he wakes up, they've tied his hair to the floor which totally has him trapped for like three panels. That was a close one! Kid Eternity decides he can't truly know what he's doing unless he utterly knows himself. So it's time to get his brain probed.

Let me guess: Carl will blather on about synchronicity and dreams while Freud tries to figure out how big Kid Eternity's penis is.

Carl doesn't initially discuss anything. He's just the straight man for Freud saying all the typical things you'd expect Freud to say: penis this, envy that, fuck your mom, kill your dad, more penises, many more penises, everything is penises. But then he comes on fast and furious with his archetypes and collective unconscious and human mythology stuff, all the biggest Carl Jung hits (aside from synchronicity but I'm sure he'll get around to that later. Ann Nocenti isn't going to miss showing the readers all the knowledge nuggets she mined to make her brain big). If only Nocenti would spend as much time writing the story as she spends making sure the readers know she knows a lot of shit then maybe I would have kept reading this comic book. Meanwhile, Zeus wanders around looking for somebody to trick fuck, Madame Blavatsky hunts down the next best burger before she slips back to the past, Beelzebub and Judas wander through Limbo, Jesus gets drunk and falls off a bar stool, and a phone yells at a woman. That all happens on one page to make sure the reader remembers other things are happening. But why does Ann Nocenti spend two panels of that dense page on Madame Blavatsky when she could have updated the reader on the non-X-File FBI agents who will probably hate fuck each other before the story ends? I also wanted an update on the Buddha Christ Trash Child. But no! Instead Nocenti just moves on to more of her proof that she's read all about Freud and Jung and totally understands the shallow top layer of their theories and philosophies. I don't mean to say I know any more than Ann Nocenti! But I understand how little I know of Freud and everything she's had him say are things everybody knows about Freud from all the dirty jokes about him: ids, supermen, parental relations, and phalli!

Oh, that's why we didn't get an update on the dense update page; Nocenti needed a full page to document the hate/fuck.

My new Ann Nocenti writing theory: Ann Nocenti has never had an original thought. She simply reads things, takes copious notes of bits and quotes she likes, and then shoves them sideways into whatever script she's currently writing. No wait. She does have original thoughts but they're almost not worth having. Like "everything in life is a prison" and then proving it by stating a few things about life that can be cell-like. It's profound in that way that things are profound when you're on acid. If you don't think about it, you can find yourself nodding along going, "Yeah! Yeah! Everything is a prison! Life is a fucking prison!" But if you do stop to think about it, it's like coming down off acid. You start to see how that thought you had about how the number three ties everything else in the universe together because of the way the corners meet didn't wasn't as mind blowing as it was six hours ago. Although the rant you went on about how pressing play on the VCR remote play the show and pressing pause pauses it but then to unpause it you have to hit pause again when you should really hit play was pretty fucking good. Speaking of acid, I'm two-thirds of the way through the acid documentary on Netflix and it's fucking fantastic. I wasn't really thinking a lot about it but I was nodding along going, "Yeah! Yeah! Everything they're saying about acid is absolutely spot on!" throughout. I actually had to take a break because it was making me too happy listening to all Sting and Carrie Fisher tell their acid stories. I don't know why I didn't just spend five paragraphs discussing why the FBI agents were playing Scrabble while they fucked. It's probably just one of Sean Phillips' kinks. Oh, maybe they were just playing Scrabble and not hate-fucking. It's hard to tell because on the next page, Jerry asks Val if they can finally fuck and Val is all, "You're a nerd!" Then she slits his throat. But then in the next panel, his throat isn't slit and he's all, "You feeling better?" And she's all, "Yeah!" So I don't know what the fuck is going on and I don't really care. I've still got like eight pages of this mess to get through and I'd rather just nod along than try to understand it. And then just like last issue, Ann Nocenti sputters out a bit of writing that I totally agree with because I've said basically the same thing before. About how every day, I fall in love with some person I see on the street because of the smallest of things. And then I love them forever.

My story isn't as good but I once fell in love walking through the airport in Minneapolis. I was passing by an attractive woman and she was gazing off somewhere as I looked at her face. She was coming up on my right and then I glanced down at her breasts and back up at her face. And that was the moment she noticed me, as I glanced from her breasts to her face. And, catching me, she smiled and laughed and kept on walking. And I still love her to this day.

And for this page alone, I forgive all of Ann Nocenti's past (future?) transgressions and find myself eager to read Kid Eternity #3. Oh wait. I still have a few pages left in this piece of crap. I read a lot of books in college that I sometimes still say are my favorite books but I should probably just say they stuck with me because I know which books are almost always in my top five and a lot of the ones in college aren't those. But Edith Wharton's Age of Innocence always stuck with me. It's possible that I completely missed the message of the novel but to me, the book was about how true love only exists when it's unrequited. Archer Day-Lewis doesn't love Ellen Pfeifer more than May Ryder for any other reason than that she was the one he didn't marry. It seemed to me that Wharton was trying to portray how hard love is and true, phenomenal love only exists in the imagination. Only a love we can imagine can remain magical. Only when we love an object, or the imaginary person we've placed on a pedestal, can we evade disappointment in the reality and flaws of another actual human being. Being in love with Ellen Pfeifer was easy because she wasn't there for all those years. There were no fights or disappointments or multiple times accidentally walking in on her taking a huge shit. She was pure and beautiful and imaginary. But then again, maybe that wasn't the point of the book at all. I was young and romantic at the time and I still absolutely loved the women I'd had unrequited crushes on in junior high and high school while my college relationship was slowly circling the drain due to personality conflicts. But not due to sex. The sex was fucking great! Anyway, Freud and Jung decide Kid Eternity is in denial and they leave. Hemlock and Dog spread some new reality across the world via a computer virus. Madame Blavatsky starts making time go backwards, probably so she can vomit up all the Twinkies she ate and eat them again with their delicious creamy filling. And the devil and Judas wind up in a bar in Limbo with Jesus to make plans for Kid Eternity. There's probably a lot more going on but there'd be too much for me to process even if it wasn't confused by Nocenti's writing style. No wonder I gave up on this book after three issues. There's no way by the third issue I could remember anything that was going on, if I even understood it the month prior. Kid Eternity #2 Rating: C-. A confusing mess that's about 90% Ann Nocenti just vomiting out things she's read. Even the things that, with the benefit of the doubt, I want to believe sprang from her own philosophical musings, I can't bring myself to absolutely believe it. I feel like every thought and piece of dialogue she's placed in this story just came from piles of notebooks filled with notes she's made while reading other people's works. It's practically a collage of philosophical ideas and moral musings pulled from myriad sources and shoved into a Kid Eternity framework "written" by Ann Nocenti. Which could explain Nocenti's penchant for stilted dialogue. If she were making up all the character's thoughts, the dialogue would flow from one character to the next. But when each character can only respond with some profound thought Nocenti read elsewhere, it comes across like a ransom note, each word cut from the mind of somebody else and pasted as a reply to another bit cut from some other thinker, no relation existing between the two thoughts except the proximity relationship Nocenti has given them.

[inmyownweirdworld]

Hurt

Hello everyone! Here is a stony fanfiction i uploaded recently that I’m actually really proud of and I wanted to get some feedback. Anyways enjoy!

---

"Cap? Cap, are you ok?" Tony's worried voice blurred as Steve struggled to breathe. He groaned, shaking his head. Well, that's not good he thought as his vision hazed in and out of focus. He felt something touch his ribs and he hissed, drawing into himself. As he moved, a slight crunch came from his torso. That's even worse he thought through the red fog of pain

"Hey there, woah, are you alright, Steve?"

"M'fine, I just gotta-" he coughed, spewing blood all over his suit and Tony's. Tony swore.

"Jesus fucking Christ- JARVIS, run vitals."

"Pulse is erratic and respiratory functions are in critical condition. I am detecting a pulmonary contusion in his left lung, likely caused by a hit to the chest. Captain Rogers also has several broken ribs and is suffering from hypotension due to blood loss. I predict that, unless treated in the next ten minutes, Captain Rogers with begin to develop a pericardial tamponade, which could lead to ventricular fibrillation and death." Tony's face turned white as he looked down at his husband, who was struggling to breathe. His chest rose and fell irregularly, and every so often he coughed up spurts of blood. Tony steeled his face and began barking instructions.

"Natasha, turn him on his side. It will hurt, but it will help the blood drain. JARVIS, call emergency services. Clint, stabilize his neck. We don't need to add a broken spine to his list of injuries. We don't have any oxygen here JARVIS, do we?

"None that I am aware of sir."

"Alright, well, we'll have to make do. JARVIS, call Peter and tell him what happened. Tell him we'll be there soon and to just sit tight for now."

"Yes, sir. Emergency services are on their way." Tony nodded, then bent down close to Steve's face.

"Hey there Cap. How're you feeling?" Steve wheezed and coughed up some more blood. "That bad huh?" He nodded weakly and closed his eyes. "Steve," Tony said urgently, shaking his shoulders gently, "Steve you gotta stay awake, can you do that for me?" Steve forced his eyes open and smiled weakly at his husband.

"Tony," he gasped, clutching his ribs, "Tony, if I don't make it-" Tony put a gentle finger to his lips.

"Now don't you start with any of that goodbye nonsense, you hear me?" he said shakily, tears filling his eyes. "You're gonna live, and you know why?" Steve chuckled, bright red blood dribbling out of his mouth. "You're gonna live because... Because dammit Rogers I love you," Tony was crying freely now, with Steve's hand pressed to his face. "I love you Rogers and I don't-I don't know what I'd do without you. You're my light, my world, and I need you. Hell, even if I didn't need you, Peter needs you. So don't give up. Please Steve," Tony sobbed, "don't give up." Just then, an ambulance pulled up to the scene, and the paramedics whisked Steve and Tony away to the hospital. Natasha was left standing in the dust, drenched in blood, sweat, and tears. She turned to Happy, who had just pulled up, and motioned to the car.

"Come on Happy. We've got a little spider to collect."

---

Peter and Natasha rushed into the hospital, immediately seeing the pale, blank face of Tony sitting in the waiting room. Peter hurried over to his dad and crashed into him, hugging Tony as if he was the one on death's door. Tony hugged him back, relief flooding his face as he closed his eyes, savoring the feel and the warmth of his son. After about a minute, Peter pulled away, searching Tony's face worriedly.

"Will he be ok?" he asked, anxiety lacing his voice. Tony let out a shaky breath.

"He's in surgery now. The doctors say that if he pulls through this one, it's likely he'll survive in the following weeks, barring any complications. He got hurt pretty badly."

"And what are the odds of him surviving this one?" Tony took a deep breath and looked at his lap.

"About 40 out of a hundred." Peter's face went pale and he sat down heavily in a nearby chair.

"Dad?" he said quietly, looking towards Tony. "What-what'll we do if he-if he doesn't make it?" Tony's head shot up and he looked towards Peter with fire in his eyes.

"I'm going to tell you the same thing I told him." he spat. "He. Will. Not. Die. I refuse to even consider it. All of this goodbye bullshit is pointless. He won't die. He's Captain America for fuck's sake. He shouldn't be in there. I'm the one who should be in there, who should be hurt, not him. It was never supposed to be him. It should have been me." Tony was hyperventilating now, his chest heaving up and down as he struggled to calm himself. "It should have been me it should have been me it should have been me I should have done something I should have saved you, Steve, I'm sorry I'm so so so sorry." Natasha, who had been leaning against the doorframe, rushed over and grabbed his hands, forcing them apart and leaning into him to stop his trembling.

"Hey, hey there, its ok Tony," she said softly, "Everything's ok. You're here with me. It's ok." Tony flinched away from her voice and instinctively hunched over to protect himself. "Tony. Tony, look at me." She gently grabbed his chin and forced him to look at her, smiling when he complied. "There we go. Could you name four things around me that are green, Tony?" He nodded shakily and started to look around.

"That plant. That old man's sweater. The pin on the nurse's scrubs. Peter's shoes." Natasha nodded and smiled.

"Good. Now two blue things?"

"Your eyes. The ceiling."

"Great job. Last one, could you name two things you can smell?"

"Antibacterial soap and watery coffee." Natasha nodded again and let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. Tony seemed much more in control now, and he looked up with sad eyes at Peter, who had watched the whole thing from his chair.

"Are you ok Dad?" he said hesitantly. Tony looked up and was about to respond when a surgeon walked into the room. The group lept to their feet and they swarmed the exhausted doctor.

"Is he all right? Will he be ok?" The doctor rubbed his face tiredly.

"He had several broken ribs which had punctured his left lung, and as a result, blood was filling his chest cavity. Because of his advanced healing factor, by the time we got in there, the tissue around the punctured lung had already healed, sealing the rib into the lung. We had to go back in and cut the rib out, reset it, and then sew up his lung." Tony took in a sharp breath and leaned on Natasha.

"Is he going to survive?" he asked hesitantly, almost afraid to hear the answer. The doctor allowed a small smile.

"Yes." Peter and Natasha erupted into cheers at this statement, hugging each other and laughing with relief. Tony just looked back at the doctor, knowing they weren't out of the woods yet. "However-" the doctor continued, silencing the two, "it's still possible he could develop complications after surgery, and we need to be on the lookout for pneumonia. He will probably also have increased pain in that area, and I strongly suggest he stay out of fights for at least another 6 months. Given his increased healing factor, I don't think we have to worry about other complications, but one can never be too careful." Tony let out a small sigh, allowing himself a tiny smile.

"Could we see him?" he asked.

"Yes," the doctor said, "but I will warn you, it's not pretty. He's on a ventilator, for now, so don't be shocked when you see it. I'm sure you've seen worse, Mr. Stark, but I have to warn you. Some people pass out when they see a loved one on life support." Tony steeled his face and brought Natasha and Peter close, holding each of their hands. he nodded, and the doctor led him off to bring his family back together.

[marvelmymarvel]

Leave Him Alone

David Webster x Reader

Synopsis: You had enough of your best friend teasing and bullying poor Webster. Partly because you wanted everyone to be kind, partly because you liked David.

You sat between them. You wished you hadn't. Your best friend, Joe, on your right, wouldn’t shut the fuck up and poor David on your left was encouraging him out of the kindness in his heart. You stared straight ahead at Luz, begging for him to switch you spots but he just shook his head and raised his eyebrows towards Web. He knew you liked the Harvard boy, they all knew. Which is why Lieb was so hard on him in the first place, and you hated that. “There’s gonna be good times, Web” Lieb piped up again and you groaned before rolling your eyes. It was silent for a good 30 seconds and you thought that meant Joe ran out of things to talk about. Apparently not. “When we get home, I mean. First thing I’m gonna do is get my job back at the cap company in Frisco. Make a killing off all those fucking sailors coming home you know?-”

“Language” you whined out quietly but he just continued to your demise. 

“Then I’m gonna find me a nice Jewish girl, with great big, soft titties-”

“Lieb” you groaned out, begging for him to stop talking as he motioned to his breasts as if they were a woman's.

“And a smile to die for.” He continued and you just threw your head back in agony. You wanted off this fucking truck. 

“Marry her. Then I’m gonna buy a house, a big house. With lots of bedrooms for all the little Liebgotts, we’re gonna be making.”

“God there's gonna be more of you” you grumbled out before leaning forward and rubbing your temple. A headache was coming on at just the thought of 10 Liebgotts pulling on your skirt to give them candy. 

“She oughtta like that. Dontcha think, Y/n” Joe finished as he nudged your arm, making you pull your head out of your hand. You shot a glare at him before sitting upright. “I’m putting a limit on you. 5 kids. I can't be a godmother to 10 little Liebgotts, I can barely handle you and you alone.” you scolded and he just chuckled at your words. 

It was silent for a good 20 seconds as you listened to Luz tease poor Janovec. It made you giggle though, the way Luz changed his voice just to mock the poor kid. “So what about you Web?” 

“Jesus Joe take a breath” you snapped quietly at him. If he could just shut up for a minute. That's all you were asking for. Joe raised his eyebrows at you playfully and you slammed your hand on his shoulder. “I guess I’ll finish school first and then, er...” David piped up making you whip your head back to him. 

“Wait a minute, finish school?” Joe started up making you let out a deep groan. They were getting along for once, there was hope. “Joseph” you whispered out and he contemplated whether or not he should continue. Deciding that you’d get over it in at least 3 days, he pressed. “You mean all this time you’ve been talking about Harvard this and Harvard that, and you ain’t even finished?” 

“For one thing I haven’t told you anything” David fought back and you just leaned back to let them argue it out. You didn't want any part of it. 

“Oh,” Joe stated snarkily as if it was common knowledge that Joseph Liebgott knew everything about everyone. Why couldn't he just leave poor Web alone? You two had argued over this many many times. You didn't like how he treated David, he stated that you felt this way because you liked Web. He wasn't wrong. But neither were you. 

“Yes, yes, I haven't finished. So, the fuck what?” David snarled and you just sighed as you locked eyes with Luz across from you. “You wanna come sit by me, Y/n?” Luz called out and you practically launched yourself across the truck bed over to your other close friend. “Alright, Web breathe a little, Jesus. Fuck” Joe whispered out as he looked around, trying to ignore the fact that you were very uncomfortable and that was his fault. 

“It’s just the way you always talked, you know? We all figured that...” Joe began once more but his eyes caught with yours and he saw the message loud and clear.

‘Shut. Up. Now.’

Joe cleared his throat before backing off of Web. “Hey, you know what, you’re right. So the fuck what?” Joe stated before turning away. Finally. You thanked God for the silence. It didn't last long. 

“So, what did you study?”

“Jesus Joe leave him alone” you cried out from across the way.

David tried to stop him from talking as well but your words made him realize that you had Joe somewhat under control. “Literature” he answered as he looked between you and Joe. He wasn't really answering for Joe’s sake, more so for yours. David liked you, liked you a lot. But he acted like a schoolboy when it came to you. Afraid to talk. Afraid to push the boundaries. “Get outta here. You serious? I love to read.” Joe called out and Web broke eye contact with you. “Do you?” David asked Joe, but his eyes snapped back to yours as if he wanted to know if you liked to read. You smiled sweetly at him before looking at your hands. “Yeah. Dick Tracey, Flash Gordon mostly.” Joe answered with so much pride that it made you want to punch him. David looked between you and Joe and you just giggled at the stupid answer. Leaning back into George’s arm, you rested your head on his shoulder, praying for the ride to be over so you could get away from the two men. 

You all had just found the camp, or whatever it was. You were linked up with David as you went on the search for food. You found a German Deli and you ordered the men to clean it out. The German man was screaming at all of you but mainly you as you were the one leading the group. “Shut up” David snarled at the man as he walked in and past you. He knew you could handle yourself and ignore the German profanities that the man was currently spewing at you. He was thankful you didn't understand that the man was calling you a bitch over and over again. But it didn't stop the anger from boiling up inside of him. No one calls you such things. No one.  “Take the bread. Find some meat if you can” you called out to the men. “Check the back and- shut up” David ordered over towards the men near the back but cut himself off to scream at the German man who was screaming at you. “Check the back and if there's any kind of a- shut up!” David screamed once more and that made the man only angrier as he grabbed your arm and yanked you closer. Screaming in your face you tried to recoil away and get out of his grasp but he only held you tighter. You yelped out in pain as he twisted your wrist a little. That's what made David snap out of his initial shock of seeing someone harm you. David pulled out his gun and yanked the man away from you. You stumbled back as another soldier caught you while David pushed the man down and put the gun to his head. “I said shut up you Nazi fuck! And if you ever so much as touch her again, I swear to God..” Your breath was knocked out of you from the force that you flew into the soldier's arms, but seeing this side of David was something that made you stop breathing altogether. The German was muttering something about him not being a Nazi and you believed him. “Not a Nazi, my mistake, you fat fucking prick. How about a human being? Are you one of those? Or are you gonna tell me that you never smelled the fucking stench?” 

“David” you finally breathed out. The man was trying to reason with him and you had enough of it all. “David that's enough, let him go” you whispered out as you grabbed the hand that was holding the gun. You both made eye contact and his blue eyes softened as they traveled down to your already bruising wrist. Another soldier told him to back off as well and that the man didn't know what David was talking about. Davids' eyes snapped back to yours and you just gave him a pleading look to just let it go. “Bullshit” he whispered down to you before pulling away. You stood beside the man and watched as David stormed out. “Es tut mir Leid” (I am sorry) the German man whispered to you shakily. You nodded at him before patting his hand, “Ich vergebe dir“ (I forgive you) you stated back before walking out. David was waiting for you outside and you two walked together to the jeep. “I didn't know you knew German” he muttered out as you both climbed in, he then realized that you did know what the man was screaming at you. It made him want to go and finish him off, but for your sake, he let it go. He started up the jeep and took off, following the truck that was full of bread. “My best friend is Joseph Liebgott, of course, I know German” you whispered out shakily as you looked sideways to the passing trees. Your hand was softly rubbing your bruised wrist, but you felt his hand grab it. Looking back over, David was still looking straight ahead, but your hand was on his thigh as he was rubbing your wrist sweetly. “I’m sorry that I lost my cool, hearing him say those things to you and then hurting you... I couldn't stop the anger from taking over.” he murmured out before turning the jeep with his other hand. You pursed your lips but nodded. You couldn't say that it wasn't attractive, the way he protected you. “You know I like you right?” he asked as he looked at you firmly. Your heart stopped as your eyebrows crinkled in confusion. Did you hear that right? He chuckled darkly before looking straight ahead. He let go of your wrist and put both hands on the wheel. “I’m such an idiot. I knew you and Lieb-”

“What no... Lieb and I have nothing going on-” you interjected quickly as you watched him wide-eyed.

“Sorry, Luz... I saw the way you laid on him... God, I’m so fucking stupid” he hissed out before slamming his hand on the wheel. It got quiet and you just breathed out an airy laugh before scooting across the seat. “You know I like you... right?” you asked up at him as you put your head on his bicep. Your hand went to his hand that was gripping tightly onto the steering wheel as you rubbed your thumb along his white and tight knuckles. “But Luz-”

“They know I like you so they tease me about it... Everyone knows I like you... Everyone but you” you continued, not letting him have a chance to tell you why he thought you were with someone else when he was all that you wanted. He looked back and forth from you and the road. Your smile getting bigger and bigger the more his face softened as he processed your words. He smirked finally before wrapping an arm around your shoulders. He pulled you into his side as you curled up on the jeep seat to get closer to him. “Well then in that case... I owe you a date and an apology” he stated proudly but the apology part confused you. “Apology for what?” you asked up at him. He looked down at you mischievously before looking back up to the road. 

“For not asking you out sooner.”

tags: @hell-itwasyou @desired-love-

[buzzworddotie]

The Vixen Bites Back

This is going to be an overview / opinion on all the goings on across Episode 2,3 and Untucked!!

To start I've officially gotten over my lack of remembering names and continue to be 100% in love with this season, because even if the challenges are a bit Wah-Wah the fucking Queens are everything!!

First off, I'm just going straight there. The Vixen. I thought initially she was going to bug me because she was seeking drama for dramas sake. However, as I think Cracker rightly says, this girl is SMART. If you didn't catch episode 3 and specifically Untucked for that one, well you've missed out on a Queen telling it exactly how it is, pulling no bullshit and finally speaking all the truth!

Yes The Vixen, Yes! This Queen and Aquaria have been going in on each other and it has not been one sided. Aquaria was giving it all that on her high horse about Cracker stealing from her. She wasn't afraid to mouth off when she felt safe and hidden from her "foe". However The Vixen had zero issue in calling bullshit once Aquaria decided to dodge the opportunity to confront Cracker back in the workroom, which was weird since she did say that it was her intention to do so...

Yet for some reason as episodes pass, Aquaria decided to go ahead and poke the bear some more. When she called out The Vixen for that wig swap what was she expecting exactly? To not get bitten back?

The genius of The Vixen is that she is prepared and able to argue back. And not in a bitchy way, she is able to have her bullet points lined up and completely call out anyone's shit. She's clever and I imagine she would happily go toe to toe with anyone in a debate. Where it all fell down for Aquaria however is that she is unable to bring the debate back to her.

Aquaria is like the embodiment of social media culture. She is happy to say something that may cause some controversy or be a bit bitchy so long as she feels safe, like any keyboard warrior. But there is nowhere to hide here so once she suddenly has to take a rebuttle, she immediately feels "attacked". And she's not, she's not attacked, she's not being bullied, she is simply getting her comeuppance for the things she says. But since she doesn't have the wit to stand behind what she says, she feels hurt.

Look I'm all for empathy, to my detriment at times, but it is hard to feel sorry for Aquaria in these confrontations with The Vixen. And I don't think that means Aquaria deserves to be attacked or have her character assassinated but I also don't think that The Vixen should have to monitor what she says to her.

The Vixen made it clear that she is ready to stand her ground, she doesn't scream or threaten, she simply provides a logical argument. Take the wig scenario, Aquaria mentions that clearly the runway doesn't matter in her view, so The Vixen can obviously rebutte that that statement makes her poking about the wig redundant. And she's right.

In Untucked we see the whole situation get brought up again only now even Dusty gets to comment on her feelings of Aquaria being cold outside of the show. This all results in Aquaria "crying".

Aquaria's emotions came from being called out and it was an instant defence mechanism. It wasn't because of any one thing hurting her, it was embarrassment. Jesus, we've all been there, done or said something to look dumb or make a mistake and once we get caught or called out sometimes it can be easier just to play the victim a bit. Or is that just me?! It's not right, but it happens. And it doesn't make Aquaria a bad person, it just makes her a bit immature.

The Vixen does an incredible job of pointing out the facts here with a level of fourth wall breaking that would put Deadpool to shame as she highlights the fact that to the viewer she will be painted as the "angry black woman". I'm not even going to pretend I can relate to that, I'm whiter than Casper the ghost, but there are some Drag "fans" out there who spew some of the most vile and racist shit you can imagine. It's something I can't wrap my head around to be honest and I don't think the scumbags who do that are actual fans.

From what I can see, the black community has been historically ground breaking in terms of Drag. The very show they are watching was created by a black Drag Queen. It is one of the most diverse shows that there is on TV.

But the fact is most, if not all, of the Black Queens who have been on Drag Race get horrid, racially driven abuse and it is disgusting. It's as if they like the white girls who try to act like black girls but not the actual black girls.

So to see The Vixen put it out there plainly as she did was a champion moment for her. And even her response when Aquaria mentioned that she understood, and I believe she did, was simply to tell her to act like it. That was brilliant. She didn't go after her, she didn't row with her she simply asked her to prove herself by her actions, not just her words.

I mean, clearly this was back then and I imagine we will see growth from Aquaria in this sense but in the larger scheme of things and the social media culture around Drag Race I think The Vixen has done an incredible job of speaking up and fighting for something that I believe she really came to the competition to fight against. The Vixen could prove to be one of the more important contestants to come on this show in terms of calling out the bullshit behaviour that happens online and I am here for it.

And while the race issue is one that does not deserve to be diluted, I think her points even go beyond race. This ability to say whatever to someone and not to be prepared for an argument back is 140 character behaviour. To play the victim, to pull the "bullied" card is done so readily at times and I am so happy to see an intelligent and strong person who is ready and able to reach through the screen and confront the keyboard warrior.

And on with the show...

With my thoughts on The Vixen out there I'll move on!

The Pharmarusical episode featured Andy Cohen who I am not here for ever since that moment where he insulted Trixie while she was RIGHT THERE but he showed up anyway for the mini challenge and for that weird cameo during the performance.

I thought Monique Heart got it a bit rough during critiques because I thought she was pretty good during her performance but then what do I know? Really love her though, a stunnah in drag and seems so lovely and sweet, I hope her momentum starts to take off. She was hilarious during the Ep3 mini challenge as well, I cannot wait to see what she's got planned for Snatch Game!!

I'm keeping an eye on Blair as well, I get the feeling this could be that Queen that does a Dela/Jinx in Snatch Game should she make it that far.

Cracker continues to shine for me, I don't know what it is there is just something about how she carries herself or her delivery or something that is so endearing. She puts the C in C.U.N.T.

I don't think Cracker has had a chance to peak yet but I feel like she's on a steady rise.

Asia is another one that I just love, her sense of humour seems so great and I said it in my first post and I'll say it again as a Queen, beautiful, as a boy gorgeous. As soon as she blew up her fringe during that runway I was sold, it was beyond cute it was fucking extra. Yes the gag of her face was funny during during the App challenge but I felt like the runway really won that for her and I was so happy to see her with a win. I'd love to see Asia go all the way.

This isn't even a review anymore, it's not linear at all but I need to interject and just throw Mayhem Miller's lip sync in here right now because WOW! I knew she'd be an incredible lip syncer and I was proven right.

This also leads me to wishing we saw more of a genre mix with LSFYL songs because there is something so badass seeing ladies who rock celebrated on that stage and I think that grungy rock music makes for a really exciting battle. Don't get me wrong, I adore me some pop and I live for soul and disco but my heart beats to a good drum and bass line so I do hope we see a bit more rock tunes added to the mix.

I mean Aja doing Alanis Morisette Ironic is flipping awesome! YouTube that shit.

Mayhem landing in the bottom this early on is probably exactly what she needed and a chance to see her perform was welcomed.

Eureka was fucking annoying as hell episode 2, Asia has the patience of a saint! I enjoyed Eureka during her stint on S09 but so far on 10 she's not doing anything to win me over and feels kind of out of place to me.

Monet was great during the Ep3 mini challenge, as an Irish girl I just loved her weird Irish thing that just came out of nowhere but when she did the "Erin go brea" singing I was in stitches, way to not just attempt some Paddy whackery SNL nonsense and just be funny and irreverent with it girl.

Also these fucking sponges turning up in every episode is getting ridiculous and I hope it never ends, I hope they don't even point them out they just keep using them like Monique during Untucked.

Poor Yuhua sashayed away Ep3 after a brutal challenge performance and too much air guitar. And by too much I mean any. I really liked her but I feel like she gets that the hard work starts after the show so I think we will get more from her.

Kalorie of course went Ep2, again a sweet queen but I don't think she was going to bring much more to this competition, the standard is so strong this year. She's a beautiful queen though.

I covered alot around Aquaria and The Vixen above but I will say that Aquaria has the potential to turn shit around for herself and I think she has the ability too. If she can accept her mistakes and learn from them she will do well, she's not afraid to act a fool in challenges and her runway is great.

I am afraid The Vixen might falter on challenges particularly when it boils down to acting or comedy in comparison to some of the others, I just get that vibe from her but she was funny in the Ep2 and 3 performances so hopefully I'm wrong because I really like her at the moment.

Dusty Ray Bottoms and Kameron Michaels are 2 I always forget until last. Which is weird because I don't dislike them, I thought both performed great on Ep2 and Dusty on Ep3. I adored Kamerons runway, someone on Reddit made a Final Fantasy VIII connection and I fucking loved it even more, I don't care if she never even heard of the game in terms of costume I lived for it.

Dusty's story of how he was treated when his parents found out he was gay was heart breaking. It's hard to imagine anyone getting treated like that just because of their sexuality, it would be amazing to see that situation get resolved for him but i think he's obviously done an incredible job of not letting it hamper his own life.

Unfortunately, Dusty on the runway Ep3 was a let down for me and i think she needs to win over the judges big time because should she land in the bottom, I don't think she'll stay.

Am i missing anyone? I don't think so.

Oh wait, I am. Alyssa Edwards was the choreographer on Ep2 and all I can say is the producers better find every opportunity they can to get her back, back, back again.

To finish up, despite some piss poor challenges this season really is all about the Queens. If you follow the show, make sure you get behind them on social media and all the rest. And leave all that bullshit racism and threats to the side, it's ugly and pathetic.

Looking forward to Ep4 which is the End of the World Ball. Love that they are getting another design challenge so soon!!

[ahsokalivesbitch]

Are you for or against Jedi, even in spite of their mistakes?

Okay so I’m going to have to sincerely beg your pardon forbringing my own personal religion/spirituality into this discussion, but itabsolutely plays a role in how I view the Jedi, and the question of whether Ithink it’s important this saga have the Order eventually reestablished, orwhether it really and truly is ‘time for the Jedi to end’. I am in no waytrying to push my religion on anybody else, or even trying to coerce anybody toagree with me about the Jedi. This isall, 100%, just me expressing my own personal thoughts and observations. Iunderstand if others don’t agree with them.

Philosophically speaking, I am a very proud, you might even say ‘devout’,Christian. I’m also proudly bisexual,devoutly feminist, pro-gay and transgender rights, pro-abortion, anti-capitalist,and a lot of things certain people would have you believe is decidedly non-Christian. 

In my own very personal study of religious philosophy, I don’t believethat my stance on any of the aforementioned issues is in any way incongruentwith the teachings of my Lord. In fact it’s the exact opposite for me: I amcompletely and irrevocably convinced that my God has always and will alwaysstand on the side of the marginalized and oppressed.

That’s not to say I’m unaware of the very real and veryproblematic ideas espoused by certain other figures in the Bible. Or the rolemany powerful religious institutions have and continue to play in upholdingoppressive attitudes rather than tearing them down. While I’ve never feltcompelled to give up my faith of choice, as I don’t blame God for humans whoexercise their free will to be shitbags, I’ve certainly wondered whether itwould be best for me to give up the title ‘Christian’ and all the baggage thattends to come with it. Rebrand myself as something else to better distancemyself from these ‘communities’ who dedicate themselves to things I cannot reconcilewith the God I know. And I know I’m not alone. Hell, even William P. Young,author of the bestselling novel “The Shack”, incorporated a very candidconversation into his book where Jesus bluntly asks the main character, “Do Ilook like a ‘Christian’ to you, Mack?” Honestly, that line hit home for me in a very real way.

But what has kept me from turning my back on the legacy ofChristianity altogether is the fact that my religion is not a monolith. Not all priests and pastors arebible-thumping, fire-and-brimstone-spewing judgmental monsters who want nothingmore than to put the fear of hell into you. Many if not most are very genuinein their desire to serve and help others, and I’ve had the fortune of connectingwith a number of them who not only welcome LGBTQ individuals like myself intotheir churches with open arms, but also proudly perform gay and lesbian weddings,rebuke discrimination and denial of women’s reproductive rights from theirpulpits, and advocate openly for gay and transgender rights.

On a more broader level, for centuries there have been innumerable churches around the world who devote countless time, money,and resources to feeding and clothing the poor, sheltering the homeless, providingresources to single mothers and orphans, providing sanctuary for hunted-down immigrantsand refugees, helping abandoned and abused animals. There also have and continue tobe MANY Christian minority groups (not just in America) who were able to drawupon the religion as inspiration to push back against their oppressors and succeed. There were thousands ofChristians present at the Women’s March, Black Lives Matter, and Muslim banprotests this past year alone.

On a very personal level—both times my sister was diagnosed withcancer, not a day went by when she didn’t receive a letter, phone call, goodiebasket, you name it, from one of her pastors or fellow parishioners. Wheresomebody didn’t offer to come and help her watch the kids, clean the house,cook her food, whatever she needed.

Two months ago I came to receive the very same response from myown Christian friends when my father was diagnosed with bladder cancer.

I’m in no way suggesting Christians deserve giant gold medals fromthe rest of the world for any of this. This, in my opinion, is just doing their fucking job. But these acts do matter, even in the shadow of all the horrible thingsother, more powerful institutions who use the Christian ™ label to advancetheir shitty causes perpetuate. Because they demonstrate that being a judgmental,small-minded, holier-than-thou hypocrite is not inherently some ‘consequence’ of what itmeans when you decide to become ‘Christian’. In fact the true purpose of thereligion always has been just theopposite.

So tying all of this into my view of the Jedi—it’s very hard toargue that, just from the stuff we’ve seen in the films/tv shows themselves,the Jedi Order didn’t operate under some pretty fucked-up ideals. Separatingchildren from their parents at infancy? Forbidding emotional attachment,marriage, a family of one’s own forever?That’s downright deplorable! And the canon itself frames how this directly leadto a number of people who couldn’t possiblyfit into such restrictive ‘ideals’ turning to the Dark Side of the Force,Anakin Skywalker himself being the most notable example. Based on all this, I understand entirely where certain peoplecome from when they think it might be better if Rey just dumps the mantle of ‘Jedi’altogether and starts an entirely new institution. Just like some days Iwish I could come up with a new way of framing my religious identity other than‘Christian’.

But here’s the thing—the Jedi also did a lot of things RIGHT. Theyespoused selflessness, serving the needs of the weak and helpless first, compassion, justice, therestoration of peace, fighting for the rights of those threatened by fascistideals, and using their abilities to defend others rather than gain any sort ofpower over them. You could also be literally ANY species or gender under the sun to be welcomed into their fold  and climb high in their ranks. They pushed back ceaselessly against greedy, opportunist, discriminating and oppressive forces in all forms and fought and gave their lives to try and uphold aRepublic that, while arguably equally flawed, at least stood resolutely fordemocratic ideals and equality among all species.

One of the things I LOVED LOVED LOVED most about Luke’scharacter development over the course of the OT is that he recognizes where his masters’ old ways of interpreting the will ofthe Force failed, while not forgetting where he also very much succeeded in learning from them. Becauseyes, the training and encouragement he receives from Ben in ANH (however brief)was absolutely ESSENTIAL to his ability to “trust the Force” and ultimately destroythe first Death Star. In TESB, his journey with the Force continues to be strengthenedexponentially by Yoda’s insistence he must forget all the arbitrary limitations convention taught him to believe about himself.That moment in the swamps of Dagobah where Yoda lifts the X-Wing after Luke’sattempt failed is very powerful, because it is here that Luke FINALLY learns heneeds to stop doubting himself, dammit tosucceed.

But even in spite of all that, Luke never, not once capitulatesto his masters’ insistence that he have to let go of all emotional attachmentfor good to win the day. He knowsintrinsically this is wrong. And ultimately it is his refusal to adhere tothis faulty principal, to abandon his friends in their time of need or killVader even when not one but TWO of his masters tell him he must (one frombeyond the grave), that ultimately leads to the long-promised achievement ofBalance in the Force. “I am a Jedi—like myfather before me.” It’s a very multilayered statement because he’s not justsaying ‘I’m a Jedi like my Dad’. He’s also saying “Like my Dad, I’m a Jedi whoembraces unconditional love and attachment, even in the face of my destruction”.

Because he KNOWS the Old Jedi’s interpretation of this issuewasn’t just wrong, it was actually downright COUNTER to what the Light Side ofthe Force really stands for (again, it was his unwavering love for his fatherthat brought him BACK TO THE LIGHT). But he doesn’t throw the baby out with thebath water either! He had enough insight to understand (before Disney and RianJohnson screwed this up for UNFATHOMABLE reasons), the best way to proceed inthe Force is to build on all the goodthat the Jedi espoused and accomplished, while preening away all the bad elementsat the same damn time.

Because, when you come down to it, if every successive generationjust throws away everything the previous generations learned and accomplishedbecause of how muddied or imperfect their general approach was in retrospect, nothing gets built. No legacies stand. Invaluablelessons inevitably get lost along the way as we just dismiss all of ourancestors’ insights as ‘meaningless’. And ultimately what would happen isanything anyone would attempt to build would just get burned to the ground over and over again as every humaninstitution tries and fails to achieve perfection. That’s not how people themselves work. We don’t abandon everything we are every time we realizewe need a major shift in our world view. We build upon all that we’ve already learned and experienced throughout ourlives, keep the good while casting off all the toxic bullshit. So why shouldour institutions be in any way different?

So yes, I am very much pro-Jedi, in spite of their many, many egregious mistakes. In fact(and this was actually a very good message that would have been SO MUCH BETTER COMMUNICATEDhad it not been delivered in the context of Luke’s shitty character retrograde)I DO believe failure is an invaluable teacher and absolutely 100% necessary ifany institution or humanity as a whole is to grow and improve on what camebefore. What I WANTED to see Luke achieve, but hopefully we’ll see through Rey,is a Jedi Order that, while probably never ‘perfect’, learns how to balancelove, family, and attachment while never abandoning the virtues of selflessnessand commitment to justice, compassion, and equality the Jedi always dedicatedthemselves to. There’s a beautiful legacyalongside all the fuckery there and, imo, it doesn’t deserve to be burned away alongwith all of the bad.

[turtle-inserts]

2. You Awaken

The reader is a master of  mixed martial arts, traveling around the world to train and learn different forms of martial arts with her father all while battling a severe illness in their lungs.

FIRST

NEXT

PREVIOUS

I was woken up the next day by someone violently shaking me.

"Hey, hey, wake upppp!" The voice whined. I mumbled some incoherent nonsense before rolling over and pulling the covers closer to me, only for them to be ripped away! I opened my eyes to glare at whoever dared to disturb my rest. Wait... where am I? The events of the night before came back slowly. I found April, then I was stabbed, then I was brought to meet some ninja turtles and their rat dad/ ninja master. Nothing too crazy. The turtle I was glaring at was the one with the orange bandanna, my blanket being held captive by the red one. What were their names? Oh yeah, Mikey and stabby- I mean Raph.

"Scoot." I stared at him still half asleep. He groaned and picked me up to move me to the end of the couch. "There you go Mikey, you can watch your dumb show now."

I lazily looked at the T.V, I'm not sure what show this was, but good god the dub was terrible! I watched with Mikey, who was trying to fill me in on the entire first season until a cup of something hot was put in front of my face along with my meds.

"Here, it's black tea. I hope you don't mind caffeinated, it's all they have. Oh, and your allergy pills," April sat next to me as I gratefully sipped the warm beverage. Caffeine was the only way to wake me up from a deep sleep like that and April knew it. God bless her. She leaned over and whispered, "They haven't been torturing you with this show have they?"

"HEY! This is a great show about teamwork, friendship, and kicking butt!" Mikey defended his show while Raph looked less amused with it.

"What do you usually watch Raph." He turned to me, with a look of surprise. "What? Is something wrong?"  

"Nah, nothing's wrong. I don't usually watch crud like this-"

"Liar!" Mikey turned to look at me, "He watches this when I do, he just doesn't like to admit it is all." Raph rolled his eyes.

"Anyway, I like to watch MMA fights usually, like the tournaments you compete in." Leo walked in, "Actually, I change my answer, anything but Space  Heroes." Leo whipped his head around so quick I thought it might snap off.

"Space heroes-" Raph cut him off.

"Is the best show and blah blah blah, you're gay for Captain Ryan." He smirked at Leo, "Is that what you were about to say?"

Leo looked extremely unamused, "Yep. That's it Raph you guessed it. If you need me I'll be meditating in the dojo."

I adjusted myself on the couch, "So uh, I know at night you guys are outside patrolling the streets or whatever, but what you do all day?"

"Normally Splinter will train us, or have us fight each other, but since you're here we're taking a break. So I guess I should say thanks dudette!"Mikey would be grinning ear to ear if he had any. Speaking of lack of ears, how do they hear? Are they like dolphins where they just have little holes for ears? I decided to ask Donatello later, he would probably know, right?

"Wait, if you guys are always outside at night and training during the day, when do you sleep?" With the busy schedule they had, I couldn't imagine when they'd be able to. Raph answered me.

"We don't." WHAT!!

I guess my expression gave away my disbelief because he continued, "Heh, I'm kidding ya dingus."

Mikey chimed in, "We sleep after patrol or after practice."

"Not enough though," Raph mumbled.

"You're right there bro." Mikey patted his brother's shoulder and April nodded along.

" I don't remember the last time you guys slept more than five hours, and I've lived with you guys for a while!" Five hours! Good lord!

"I need at least twelve to function properly..." They stared at me, "What?"

"We can tell. Mikey had to shake you to wake you up and you were sleeping for two days when I found you yesterday."

"Why do you gotta call me out like that, Raph? A girl needs her beauty sleep okay? It's not my fault that I need a little more than, let's say, April here."

"Oh, (y/n) stop! You're very pretty." The face I made can only be described as, not believing a word of bullshit spewing out of her mouth.

"Yea yea O'Neil. You only say that because you signed a contract requiring you to." She looked at me in confusion.

"What contract?"

"The friendship contract you signed legally requiring you to be nice to me." She just laughed and stood up to stretch.

"I think I'm gonna go for a walk around the sewers to stretch my legs. Anyone want to come with?"

"I will!" Mikey stood, "I'll grab my board!" He raced off to what I assume was his room to grab his things.

Raph leaned further back into the couch, "I'll pass." I wanted to go! I started to stand up when Donnie came out from behind some giant metal doors.

"(Y/n), I'm gonna take your stitches soon. Mind coming in my lab?" Oh, that's where it was then. April gave me an apologetic glance as she and Mikey headed out.

"Sure thing." I went to stand and almost fell forward. Whoops! Raph scrambled to grab me.

"Jeez! You're gonna give me a heart attack!" He scooped me up bridal style and carried me towards the lab.

"Hey, I can walk!"

He snorted. "Apparently not." I felt my face heat up, he's such an asshole! We reached the door to the lab, how was he gonna open it he doesn't have any free hands- holy shit. He moved from holding me with both arms to only holding me in one. Holy shit this guy's strong. I sneaked a peak at his upper arms. Sweet Jesus, maybe it's because they're mutants but damn his arms were nice and toned. Maybe from all the workouts they do too? I felt cold metal underneath me. Oh! We're in the lab now, whoops. I got a little distracted.

"Thanks," I muttered to Raph. He took a few steps back to get out of his brother's way.

"Alright, I need you to lift your shirt up so I can take out your stitches." I was wearing a sports bra so it was no big deal. I took it off and laid on my side so Donnie could get to them. I looked up and caught Raph staring.

"Admiring your handiwork?" It was a joke but his face turned all red. Hah! I'd finally embarrassed him! Taking out the stitches was a quick and relatively painless process. All Donnie had to was cut them then pull them out! It was over in an instant.

"Okay, no sparring for a little while until the wound is almost healed okay? It was a pretty deep cut so it should take a week or so."

"So I'll be able to fight for my tournament right??"

"Hopefully yeah. As long as your wound stays closed."

"Good enough for me!"

And so a week later we were in the dojo. My wound was starting to scab over and the marks from the stitches were completely gone! No swelling, no reopening, nothing. As a result, Splinter asked if I could spar with his sons and teach them some techniques and of course I agreed. I needed to be ready for the tournament and what better way was there than training with four mutant ninja turtles! I stretched myself out, doing the basic stretches like toe touches, the butterfly, etc. I stood up with a sigh. Hands on my hips I asked, "Alright who's first!"

Mikey's hand shot up, "Oh! Oh! Me, me me!" He was waving his arms all around, nearly smacking Raph and Donnie in the face. Grinning at his eagerness I nodded and gestured for him to come to the mat.

"Good luck," I told him. We faced each other waiting for Splinter's signal to begin.

"Hajime!" And with that  Mikey raced at me screaming. I sidestepped his first few blows, they were pretty quick but he left openings everywhere! I let him continue his attack for a few more seconds before fighting back. Blocking a final hit, I threw a left hook at him, he screamed as he ducked, causing me to snort. He tried to sweep my legs out from under me but I moved out of the way before he could. While he was still crouched I did a straight kick. I tried to slow it down so I didn't dislocate or break his jaw, but he still went down kind of hard, meaning I won the match. I ran over to make sure he was okay.

"Mikey?" I reached out to help him up. Why wasn't he responding!? I leaned down close as his brothers started to get worried.

"THAT WAS AWESOME!" His brothers and I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Jeez, Mikey! I was worried you were really injured!"

"Huh?" He stood up, "Oh no, I'm fine. But can you teach me how to do that!" I laughed and promised to show him as Leo got on the mat next.

"Don't go too easy on me." He joked, getting into his fighting stance.

"Oh, I won't."

"Hajime!" Leo's style was completely different from Mikey's. Mikey moved quicker, but Leo left no openings. He blocked every punch and ducked every kick. Honestly, it was starting to get frustrating so I picked up the intensity, switching to using my elbows and knees instead of just my fists and shins. He maneuvered around me no problem! There was one point he almost had me, he had managed to get behind me and kick my knees out and I almost fell! Instead, I used the momentum to summersault away, getting myself back up to standing in time to deliver a spinning back elbow to his torso. He staggered backward! Using a spinning kick I knocked him onto his butt. YES! I was breathing hard as I helped him up.

"Good match, Leo! You almost had me at one point which is actually kind of impressive." His face tinted red.

"Thanks (y/n)." I needed a breather so I sat down off of the mat, next to Donnie and Raph who handed me a bottle of water.

"God bless you Raph."

"Uh, (y/n)?" Donnie spoke up.

"What's up Donnie?"

"Please remember I stitched you up," He replied nervously. Were the matches I just had with his brothers really that scary?

"Don't worry Donnie, I won't break any bones."

"That's not very reassuring, (Y/n)..." He muttered.

"Donnie, if I were you I'd confess to April before your fight with her." I snorted at Raph's comment. I wouldn't kill his brother, just brutally maim him.

"SHH!" He covered his brother's mouth, but after one look at his older brothers expression, he removed his hand pretty quick.

"Dude, she isn't even here, she's in the bathroom." I had seen her get up right after my fight with Leo ended, there's no way she was back. Donnie quickly stood up.

"Then let's get started before she gets back." Wait, did April watching him make him nervous? Aww, how cute!

"I'm back!" The red head came through the sliding doors and sat closest to the mat, and Donnie let out a quiet groan. There goes his plan.We stood facing each other and I was tempted to let him win, he would look good for April-

"Hajime!" Turns out I actually had to try very hard to not get hit. Donnie's hits were precise and calculated, exactly what one would expect from a genius He found every opening I had, especially when I was blocking my face from his hits and he almost knocked my feet out from under me! Dammit! I forgot to check my feet! I took a step back and steadied myself by getting into my starting stance again.

"Nice one bro!" Mikey cheered from the side.

As we sparred I noticed he seemed to have to think about what he was about to do before he did it, there was always a pause before he tried to land a hit. Just like the first time we fought! He went to punch me, but I ducked. As he was thinking I pushed him back and kicked his feet out, he fell instantly! Yes! Three down one to go. I looked at Raph. b\Before I fought him I needed to take my pill, I was definitely cutting it close to the time limit.

I was only gone a minute but I felt the energy coming back to me. I was excited for my match with Raph, I'd been watching them all train the past week and from what I could tell, he packed the most punch. I'd have to make sure I dodged his hits really well. I went back to the mat.

"Hajime!"

I was surprised at how quick he moved for someone with his strength. Normally if you had one you didn't get the other but when his fist nearly got me square in the face I knew I'd have to be a little more careful.

"Watch the money maker Raph!" I joked. He smirked, sweet an actual reaction! Uh oh. I ducked as another fist came my way followed by a spinning kick I didn't have the time to dodge! I didn't fall but damn that hurt! Right in the spot he had stabbed me too! I scowled and ignored the pain. I stood up just in time to knock away another kick. Jeez, could he give me a break! This kept going until I realized being on the defense was getting me nowhere real quick. Time for some offense! I jumped back to the edge of the mat and gestured for him to come at me with a smirk on my face. He paused, narrowing his eyes at me before charging while letting out a war cry. He got close enough that I was able to fake a punch, which he blocked, and with my left side I brought my elbow down on his clavicle and my knee into his femur. He didn't fall but had to stop for a second. I backed up before advancing a final time. He tried to throw another punch but I sidestepped, grabbed his arm and body flipped him onto the mat. There was silence in the dojo before a round of applause. How long had that taken? I  looked at the clock on the wall. FIFTEEN MINUTES! Not the longest match I'd been in but it was up there. I looked down at Raph, there was an odd look on his face. I think it was respect, but I couldn't be too sure. I offered my hand, "Great match!" he took my hand and after he stood up I decided to give him shit. "Did you have to get me right where the stitches were though?"

"Hey, you almost broke my collarbone so I think we're even." Nodding my head in agreement, I realized I still had a hold of his hand. I let go of it and drank some water.

"Thanks for the great fights guys! It'll really help me out at the tournament in two weeks! We should do this again sometime." And we did. Whenever they trained with Splinter I went with them. I remember each match fondly as I stood holding my final junior championship's first place trophy. The people here were nowhere near the same level as the guys so the win was an easy one! The only other person who would have given me any trouble was a kid my age named Oliver. He was disqualified for trying to use an illegal move on a kid two years younger than him! Next year wouldn't be so easy though. That was the grown up faction and there were a lot less restrictions. I would probably have to face that Oliver guy at some point.  I celebrated that night with my dad and April but after he went to bed, April and I snuck down to the lair. It was a miracle he hadn't noticed I was gone the first half of the month but it was because he was still traveling around for his business and to make his videos.

When April and I made it to the lair, all the lights were off. What the heck?

"CONGRATULATIONS!" The lights turned on there were the guys! They had gotten a cake, chips, soda, and movies for a fun filled night!

Mikey came over and hugged me, "Great job today, (y/n)!"

Donnie chimed in, "You really did a number on them that's for sure."

"Aww, thanks guys! Couldn't have done it without all of you!" We all sat in the living room talking and watching movies. They let me pick out the last one but by the time we got to my choice April, Donnie, Leo, and Mikey were all sound asleep. Donnie was on the other couch out cold, while the others slept on the floor. Good thing I guess since my choice was a horror movie, and the only other person who even remotely liked them was Raph. Speaking of Raph, I was sitting next to him sharing popcorn. Out of all the turtles, I would have to say I felt the closest to him. Between the first time we had sparred and the tournament it felt like I was always hanging out with him.Of course, I hung out with the others whenever I had a chance, but with Raph, it just felt different. If we weren't training in the dojo, we were hanging at my place or here in the lair. I didn't mind at all though, considering he isn't bad to look at. In my opinion, he's really good looking; not that I'd ever tell him. It'd go straight to his head! I turned my attention to the screaming on the T.V. Someone had just gotten sawed in half!

"Hah, gross," snuggling under my blanket more. His brothers had stolen all the others so I had to share with Raph. No big deal though.

"You think this is bad? Give it a minute." He had seen the movie before. I shoved popcorn in my mouth but nearly spat it out at the image on the T.V.

"Ewwww. Okay yea, that's ten times worse." He chuckled. As the movie went on I felt my eyelids beginning to droop. I had spent all day at the tournament, then all evening at the after party, and now I'm here. It's been an exhausting day. I leaned against Raph, he wouldn't mind, right? It's not like I was gonna fall asleep.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------                                                                                                       Raph's P.O.V.

She was asleep. Jesus Christ, she fell asleep on me! Was I supposed to wake her up? She has to be home before her dad wakes up, right? I stiffened as she snuggled closer to me. This is because we're friends. Friends fall asleep on friends. So what if I have a huge crush on her, it totally doesn't matter right? Nah, not at all. She's snoring. Okay, she's really out.

I sighed and tried to calm down, reminding myself we're just friends. I'd finish the movie by myself and then take her home. Normally she could take herself home, who would be stupid enough to try and mug her? But tonight she's so tired she'd probably just pay the mugger to leave her alone. The movie didn't have long left anyway so I could just relax and enjoy the moment. Oh shit wait, there's the credits now! God dammit. I didn't want to get up from the warm blanket, now that it's the middle of December it was freezing out! I'd have to pray she remembered to leave a window unlocked for me to get her inside.

I scooped her up off the couch, keeping her wrapped in the blanket, and started for the surface. I made it topside no problem, but (y/n) was hard to hold onto as a blanket burrito. I almost dropped her as I hopped from roof to roof. I really didn't want to try and wake her up but I needed her arms to be around me for support.

"Psst, hey. Cas, wake up." I had started using the nickname after she scared the crap out of me in the bathroom. I had just walked in the bathroom when she burst out of the shower screaming. I don't think y heart has ever pounded that hard. I'd gotten her back a few days later by hiding in the cereal cabinet and when she opened it I jumped out. Pranks were usually Mikey's thing, but I liked to help out from time to time.

"Shh." She pulled a finger out of her blanket and pushed it against my lips. "I need like, 10 more minutes."

"I'm gonna drop you in a dumpster if you don't hold on." She mumbled some obscenities at me before both her arms snaked around my neck. "Thanks." We made it to her house shortly after. I stood on the fire escape and opened the window. Good thing her dad didn't lock it. Speaking of him I was gonna have to be extra stealthy, (y/n) had said he was a better fighter than her and had won a few championships himself. I wouldn't want to face him. I carried her to her room as quietly as possible until I stubbed my toe. "FUCK" I whispered. Her hands whipped up and covered my mouth.

"Are you trying to get found out!?" She whisper-yelled.

"Can it, I just carried your sleepy ass all the way here."

"Fair point." She muttered. "You can put me down now. Thanks for bringing me home though." She yawned and rubbed her eyes. She looked so tired, I almost felt bad for her.

"No problem." I'd do it whenever she needed me to, not that I'd tell her that though. She gave me a hug.

"Night Raph."

"Night (y/n)." I went out the living room window and into the night with thoughts of her on my mind.

[hysterialevi]

In the Smoke pt. 5 (Cobblebats)

From Bruce’s POV

After agreeing to join the “Children of Arkham,” whoever they were, Oz led me to what was supposedly their headquarters, which had been hidden deep underground to avoid any unwanted attention, whether it was from random civilians or the GCPD. Before we headed there though, Oz gave me a hoodie to shield my face with, claiming that a Wayne like me wasn’t going to quite be welcome company just yet. What the hell did my dad do to receive so much hate?

Following Oz through the dank, damp streets, we found ourselves skulking away from the wildness of downtown Gotham to a more secluded area of the city filled with shady-looking people, all of them staring at us as we passed by.

“Stay close,” Oz warned me under his breath, “people here ain’t exactly friendly, ‘specially towards your family.”

I sped up a bit so that I was side-by-side with Oz. “And why does everyone hate my family? What did we do?”

“Well, you didn’t do nothin’, but your father’s ruined more than a few lives in the past--mine included. You’ll learn more soon enough.”

Ending the conversation there, I continued to silently trail along with Oz, trying to avoid as much eye contact as possible with the criminals around us. Most of them were huddled up in small groups, and chatted privately in multiple corners of the alleyway, enjoying drinks and muttering to each other as I walked past them.

“...is that...Bruce Wayne...?” One thug murmured, his intense gaze nailed onto me. “The fuck’s he doin’ here?” I pretended not to notice him.

“Don’t be a dumbass,” his friend replied. “Why would a Wayne come slummin’ down here when they’ve got that fancy castle of theirs?”

“How the hell am I supposed to know? I dunno--he just looks like him. Maybe it’s not.”

“Of course it ain’t, you tit. A Wayne would never have the guts to come to a place like this. Too busy running away from paparazzi.”

“Will you two shut the fuck up?” A third man barked at them. He was curled up on the ground, lying on top of some cardboard with his jacket covering his body. “Tryin’ to get some damn sleep here.”

The first thug finally decided to let the subject go and returned to his own business, looking away from me as he carried on another conversation with his friend. That was when I noticed a rather prominent tattoo of a strange symbol inked on the back of his neck--and now that I paid closer attention, actually--that symbol was everywhere. It had been spray-painted on the walls, people wore masks with it, and other criminals in the alley even shared the same tattoo. Maybe it was the Children of Arkham’s logo?

Out of nowhere, I felt Oz suddenly grab my arm and haul me over to his side, gently pushing me forward in a hurried manner. I gave him a puzzled look.

“Best not to linger here,” he advised, his eyes darting around in caution. “Don’t wanna get shanked for real. C’mon, we’re almost there.”

After a few more minutes of trekking through the dangerous alleyways and trying to keep up with Oz’s hasty pace, we arrived at a large, brick building as more criminals came into view, and the sound of cheering reached my ears. There were colorful, vivid lights seeping through the windows, and cigarette smoke filled the air. What was going on inside?

As if he could hear my thoughts, Oz gladly explained the commotion with a proud grin. “Us Children of Arkham are huge fans of boxing. You should watch a match sometime. It’s an easy way to have fun.”

“You ever fight?” I asked.

He laughed. “Mate, it was my idea to start it.” He opened the front door and gestured for me to enter. “Here, I’ll give you a quick tour, and then later, I’ll tell you what our next step is.”

Shoving our way through the building, Oz briefly showed me around headquarters and introduced me to a few of the members who seemed friendly enough, occasionally waving back to random people who recognized him. 

I had to admit: the atmosphere of this place was far from inviting, and being in the presence of literally an army of criminals made me just a tad uneasy. So far, no one had revealed any obvious intentions to harm me, and everyone seemed too distracted by other activities to even notice me, but it was still intimidating. On the bright side though, at least Oz was here to guide me. Just by having him around made me feel much safer, and like I was protected.

Without even realizing it, I started to subconsciously stare at Oz in thought, almost...attracted...to his appearance. He looked so different compared to when we were kids, and had transformed from a cute, playful child into a rugged, charming, and even handsome young man, regardless of his faint wrinkles and unkempt attire, and what the hell was I thinking? Was I...infatuated...with my old friend? No, I couldn’t be. That’d be weird. Or was it normal? I mean, Oz was good-looking. Who wouldn’t like him? Surely, I wasn’t alone.

“Have I got somethin’ on my face?” Oz said, snapping me back to the present. Oh, shit. He caught me staring.

“Um, n-no,” I replied awkwardly. “You’re fine.” I quickly corrected myself. “I mean--you look fine--not that kind of ‘fine.’ Not like the, erm--you know, ‘hot fine.’ Just. Fine. Yeah. You’re fine.” I mentally facepalmed. Well done, Bruce.

After a second of trying to make sense of the bullshit I just spewed, Oz let out a friendly chuckle. 

“Relax, mate,” he patted my shoulder. “I know this place can be intimidating at first, but you’ll fit in soon enough. Just take a breath.”

I laughed nervously along with him. “Y-yeah...that’s it. Thanks. Um--can we talk about that next step now?”

“Sure,” he nodded, clearly aware that I was uncomfortable. “Follow me.”

Battling our way out of the crowds, Oz took me upstairs to his ‘office,’ which was actually just some random room he started piling all his shit in and then claimed ownership of. It was much quieter up here, and the wild sounds from downstairs were muffled now, leaving us with some peace and quiet.

Fumbling in his pockets, Oz pulled out a lone key before unlocking the door and allowing us entry, shutting it behind us. His office was...pretty cozy, to be honest. It wasn’t too big or too small, a few scattered lamps lit up the room with a warm glow, and layers of boxing posters covered the wooden walls. 

Nestled off in a corner, I spotted what appeared to be his desk. It was decorated with scattered pens and pencils, an empty beer bottle, and an ashtray full of dead cigarettes. Walking over to the desk, Oz dragged a second chair with him and placed it on the opposite side before plopping down onto his own, leaning back and slipping out a pack of cigarettes. 

As I took a seat, he lifted the pack towards me, offering me one. I politely refused, and pulled down my hood.

Flicking a lighter open, Oz cupped a hand over the cigarette and set the tip ablaze, afterwards letting a small puff of smoke out the corner of his mouth. He chewed his bottom lip in thought.

“...have you ever killed a man?” He asked. I snapped my eyes towards the cigarette.

“What the hell are you smoking?” Oz laughed at that.

“I know it’s a strange question, but I’m just genuinely curious.”

I shook my head. “No, I haven’t. What about you...?”

He took a drag, resting his elbows on his knees. “...yeah. A few times. I ain’t proud of all of ‘em, but sometimes, people just can’t be allowed to live any longer, y’know. Lots of those people are in Gotham right now. One of them sits on the bloody throne.”

Straightening his posture, Oz looked directly at me. “Listen, the next step...is to kill Mayor Hill. I know it’s probably quite a leap from what you was expectin’, but it’s gotta be done.”

I hesitated and kept quiet, but Oz picked up on the message right away.

“...or maybe,” he continued, “you wanna get some answers out of him first.”

I paused. “...it’s like you can hear what I’m thinking.”

He smirked. “I’m good at reading people. Look--normally I wouldn’t change the plans for something this important, especially since things are pretty much set in place, but you’re more important. To me, at least. Originally, I was going to just have Hill killed off at that upcoming debate and be done with it, but maybe we can bring him back here. Pull some info outta him. Make him tell the truth. Yeah...I like that idea better.”

“So, what’s the new plan?”

Before he could respond, my phone suddenly began to ring. I sighed.

“Sorry.” Sheepishly pulling the device out of my pocket, I went to silence it until Oz caught a glimpse of the contact’s name, reaching across the desk and stopping me mid-action.

“Wait,” he exclaimed eagerly, pointing at the screen, “you’re friends with Dent?”

“...yeah. Why?”

An idea popped into his brain. “Answer it, and put him on speaker. See what he wants.”

I decided to go along with it and tapped the speaker button, Harvey’s voice coming through instantly.

“Hello?” I greeted.

“Hey, Bruce. It’s Harv, but you already knew that. Um, anyways--I was wondering if, ah...you’d like to...maybe grab some lunch at that café? Café Triste, I think it’s called. It’s new apparently. I thought we could check it out together.” He quickly added more. “--if you don’t though, that’s perfectly fine. I know you can be busy--or maybe you’re just not in the mood. Whatever it is, no harm done. So, um, what d’you think?”

Oz quirked a brow at me. “Is he always this awkward?” He whispered. I silently nodded.

“You should go,” Oz suggested. “Butter him up a bit. It’ll help with our plan.”

I pressed the phone against my chest, blocking the sound. “It will?”

“Yeah. Trust me.”

I put the phone up to my lips, wondering what Oz was thinking. “Sure, Harv. I’ll meet you there at...say, twelve?”

“That works perfectly. All right, then. I’ll, uh...see you soon, Bruce. Thanks. Bye.”

“Bye, Harvey.”

I hung up. Oz’s chest gently jolted upwards with a soft chuckle. “Jesus. And I thought you were awkward back there.”

“He...likes me,” I shyly explained. “A lot.”

“I can tell. Well, you should get going. It’ll gimme time to set up our new plan. Meet me back here when you’re done, all right?”

“Sure thing. See you, Oz.”

“Actually,” Oz sprung up from his seat, “maybe I should walk you out. I doubt Harvey wants to have lunch with a corpse.”

I put my hood back up. “I can defend myself, you know. A few thugs is nothing I can’t handle.”

He grinned, slinging an arm over my shoulder as we casually strolled out together, delving back into the craziness downstairs.

“Oh, I know. You’ve been livin’ with one your whole life.”

[sofeyhh]

Six Blind Dates

Protagonist: Min Yoongi Main Pairing: Yoonmin Ships: Yoonseok, Namjin, Namgi, Taegi, Yoonjin, Yoonkook

Summary: Min Yoongi has been a hermit during his first year in college; mostly keeping to himself, burying his head in his studies and holing up in the school’s radio station. Now that he’s entering his second year, his brother has been riling him up to get experimental, since it is college. So he joins a dating website, for men, and waits for his 6 blind dates.

Part 3 / ?

“How was your dateeee? It’s been 3 days and you still haven’t called your hyung?!”

Yoongi could practically see his brother grinning from ear to ear, eager to hear every single detail. At times he felt blessed that they were as close as peas in the pod. He was able to confide in his brother without feeling judged and still have fun making a fool out of themselves. But for today, it was getting on his nerves.

“Ah yeah, it didn’t work out like that,” Yoongi sighed over the phone at the memory of him fucking up the date.

He had felt a connection with his date but he just had to open his big mouth. Then again, it was better to be honest about his opinions on the sappy literature shit that they talk about. Yoongi wouldn’t have been able to stand it if his significant other droned about the beauty in a piece toast all day.

“Didn’t work out like THAT? What do you mean like THAT? Like it worked out in a different way? Like friends with benefit kinda way? Don’t tell me you’ve done the do?! How did it feel? I’ve tried it and it’s not my thing. Though the only time I did, I was bottom and fuck it left my ass sore for days. Were you bottom? You sound like a top though, ” his brother rambled on.bottom and fuck it left my ass sore for days. Were you bottom? You sound like a top though, ” his brother rambled on.

“No! Jesus hyung,” Yoong groans in embarrassment. “Fucking stop with the graphics of your college sex life.” He buries his head in his pillow, desperate to erase the images in his head. You do not want to live life after having to accidentally picture your grown brother getting fucked in the ass.

“I’m sorry! I thought you lost your gay virginity and wanted to share.”

Yoongi shivers from his brother’s blatant words. “Hyung, even if I lost it, I wouldn’t want to talk about it to you. There’s such thing as too much information.”

At that moment, his alarm went off. Without him realising, he had already spent half his Saturday lounging in bed. In about 20 minutes, he was supposed to meet Namjoon at the campus’ Cafe.

“That hurts my feelings, truly kid. So? How did it work out in the end?”

Yoongi turned on the loudspeaker and chucked his phone on the bed as he got ready. “Well, I told him about my music and uh he showed me this book of his filled with emotional poems. He’s like a Shakespeare enthusiast. I found it to be quite moving and asked him to be my lyricist.”

He glazed through the conversation he had with Namjoon, leaving out the parts where he almost kissed him, where he had indirectly insulted him and where he had opened up about his feelings. His brother most definitely did not need to know about that.

“And now, he’s sort of my partner. In music.”

“Shit, that website’s working out for you eh,” Yoongi’s brother chuckled.

Yoongi’s eyes voluntarily rolled at his remarks. If anyone knew how hard Yoongi has been struggling to pen down a solid verse, it was his brother. It was embarrassing to admit it but there were days where the mugs of coffee have short-circuit his brain and he would whine to his brother about his inability to express his feelings.

Yoongi sighs as he ruffled his hair, “I got to go. Tell eomma and appa I love them.”

-

He sat by the large window of the cafe, sipping his iced coffee when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning around, he found Namjoon looming over him with that dimpled smile. Those dimples, it made Yoongi weak in the knees.

Namjoon plopped down on his seat with a mug of what seems to be steaming Cappuccino. “I heard the audio you sent and it gave me this melancholic feeling so I was inspired,” he says, delving straight into business. He produced scraps of papers filled with words; some were scribbled with thought, others spewed with a sudden blurted inspiration.

“You didn’t tell me exactly what direction you were aiming for so I just wrote whatever came to mind,” Namjoon grinned as he leant forward.

“Yeah, I wasn’t sure myself. It sort of got produced one day so I guess it’s a freeform track,” Yoongi muttered while reading through the lyrics.

The beat he produced lingered in the back of his mind, replaying like a broken record. And surprisingly, about 90% of the written words captured the emotions of the music. It was heavy with sorrow, writing the story of a struggling individual. Yoongi could already see it flowing smoothly with the track, building up to an amazing piece.

“Are you going to check that?” Namjoon’s question sucked him back to the cafe as he pointed at Yoongi’s phone.

“Huh?” he asks.

“Your phone. You’ve got a notification,” Namjoon said with an amused smile. He was so absorbed in the lyrics that he hadn’t noticed the timid ‘ding’ from his phone.

Without glancing at his phone, he objected and went on to pour out his opinions. As soon as the discussion started, the pair were in work mode. They pieced together a bunch of different lyrics together to create the right song with a story. While Namjoon works his magic on synthesising lyrics out of thin air, Yoongi stares in awe. It was incredible to see the Namjoon’s process. He could come up with a phrase that pulled at your heartstrings just by looking at a dry leaf floating in the breeze.

They had spent about an hour sitting on the hard plastic chairs of the cafe and finally, a song was created. It entailed bits and pieces of both the boys’ stories. The different obstacles they went through and their uncertainty of the future. It was a masterpiece.

“My brain’s worn out,” Yoongi groans.

“Your brains?!” Namjoon exclaimed with his mouth agape. “Excuse you, sir, I was the one that’s been pumping out rhyming words. It was demanding on my precious brain to come out with a rhyme for circus.”

“That was on you mate! I didn’t ask for the line ‘the world spins like a circus’!” Yoongi defended exasperatedly. “And by the way, it was exhausting enough to listen to you explaining for 5 whole minutes about the true meaning of broccoli in the song.”

“Because it was important! The word broccoli symbolises so much more than just a green-”

Yoongi quickly pointed his finger at Namjoon, willing him to stop. “No! No, no I am not sitting through another miserable minute to put up with your bullshit.”

Namjoon gasped at his harsh words, frowning and crossing his arms together. The shorter boy grumbled into the palms of his hands before taking a deep breath. He sat up and held out his hands. “I apologise. My mouth is unfiltered and I didn’t mean what I said. You should know that by now.”

“Not really. This is only the second time we met,” Namjoon sassed.

“That, my tall friend, is called hangry,” he said as he took out his wallet. “We haven’t eaten since we got here and you’re being an ass. What do you want? I’ll pay for it.”

Namjoon scoffed at Yoongi for calling him an ass. Nevertheless, it was an offer that he couldn’t refuse. Free food is always a good blessing to broke college kids. He placed his order and watch the grumpy grandpa walk away with his grey cloud.  

‘Ding’

He sneaked a peek at Yoongi’s phone and smirked. This boy was getting a lot of attention. It was no surprise though; he carried the typical mysterious bad boy persona with him. Clad in all black, the I-could-give-zero-fucks attitude and that perplexing gaze he had behind those beautiful eyes; he had the entire package. But if there’s one thing Namjoon knows about bad boys is that they’re really soft on the inside. They just needed the right person to melt away their hard exterior.

“You’ve scored two dates this week,” Namjoon announced to Yoongi as he approached their table. He was wiggling the phone around between his two fingers, chuckling when it was snatched away.

It was unmistakable that Namjoon saw a hint of blush on the boy’s cheeks while he read through the notifications from the dating website.

“Jung Hoseok and Jeon Jungkook,” Yoongi muttered.

“I know one of them,” he piped up, wiggling his eyebrows. “Hoseok, he’s a literal ball of sunshine.”

A ball of sunshine? That doesn’t sound too pleasing to Yoongi’s ears. If anything, he was quite the opposite. He preferred the moon, cold and serene. Yoongi’s horrified expression left Namjoon in a laughing fit, almost causing him to fall of the tall chair.

“Oh man!” Namjoon chortled. “You’ve got an energetic son of a bitch coming your way!” He was in tears at the thought of the happy-go-lucky Jung Hoseok on a date with this dreary black hole.

My Masterlist

To easily find the parts of this fic, just click on the first tag!

[someonetotaketheedgeoff-blog]

5.09.2017 – Journal; Beer Pong on The Coffin

‘OK… I’ll get you an almond magnum… If you answer this question… Did you fuck him? It’s very simple. If you haven’t – I’ll get you the almond magnum. If you have I won’t get you the almond magnum. There’ll be no more love, no more kindness, nothing… Only hate’. I said – pulling the $50 note tight from both ends.

She sat on the bed. Head hanging down. Saying nothing.

‘…Fucking disgusting…’. I breathed.

I handed the 50 back and walked down the stairs. Picked up a cigarette off the bench. Went to the garage. Anger rising. Teeth grit. Gagging. Trying to spew and not at the same time. Moaning out loud. Head in my hands. My vision went white around the sides - like the end of Looney Tunes – that’s all folks! I started punching the shit out of a red travel bag. I punched the zip and my finger bled. Collapsed onto the floor. Couldn’t even bring myself to inhale the cigarette smoke.  

I looked at garage ceiling - wouldn’t hold my weight. Plus, it’d be a dog move to hang myself while my friend was staying in the garage.

Walked into the bottle shop. Drop of blood on my right index finger. 6 pack of hard cider, 6 pack of Melbourne Bitter on the counter. No bag. Smashed 3 hard ciders in 30 minutes - making excellent time.

I did push ups until my fingers tingled.

I drank heavy. Sitting in the garage. Pounding ciders. My friend was coming home at any moment. I didn’t want him to see me like this. I processed this thought as the garage door opened. He drove in.  I swung my head to look at him, headphones still in. His eyes seemed to understand something was fucked - but he was calm. I pulled one headphone out.

‘They fucked – everything’s fucked’. I slurred.

‘Ah yes – I understand’. He said.

I don’t remember how I fell asleep that night.

The next night I sat alone drinking again. I messaged her. Told her to reply quickly or I’d kill myself. I wanted quick answers more than I wanted to die. I could barely move. I had a calmness though. My body was settled. She replied. She said she’d be home soon. I started playing guitar. Blues I think. My other housemate came home. He walked into the garage and plugged in his guitar. I don’t think he said anything. We played together. I watched 2 police walk into the backyard.

I didn’t move. My housemate jumped up quick – rushed outside. I turned the music down and lit a cigarette.

A cute police women girl pulled the sliding door to the side.

‘Hey man, sorry I didn’t mean it to be so loud. Sorry – I’ll turn it down’. I said.

‘No, no… that’s OK. Liam yeah? Ah… We’re here because you’ve… Maybe been sending some messages on Facebook… Maybe about… Hurting yourself?’. She said.

‘Oh… Yeah… I see’. I said.

‘Is that true?’. She asked, taking a seat on the edge of the couch.

‘Um… Well yeah… It was more for attention than an actual… I… I don’t know…’. I said, trailing off.

‘So, it was more for attention? You weren’t really going to hurt yourself?’. She asked.

‘Ah… Well… I guess… There’s certainly a chance I was going too… Maybe like a 1 in 50? I’m not sure. Do you mind if I smoke?’. I asked.

‘Um – yeah that’s fine, it’s your house?’. She said – mildly baffled.

‘Do you mind if I drink?’. I asked.

‘Ah… Yeah man… It’s fine – how many have you had?’. She asked.

‘I think… This’ll be my fifth… I’m not sure’. I said.

‘Wow… OK… Jeez I guess you can hold your liquor, I’d be in the corner if I’d had that much’. She said.

I smiled and looked at her. Cigarette smoke trailing out of my mouth like incense. I told her the situation. About breaking up with my girlfriend. Still living in the same house. Things seemingly fine. Also living with my longest friend in the same house. Asking my now ex-girlfriend – please don’t fuck him now that we aren’t together. Her saying she wouldn’t. Them fucking. Then continuing to fuck. Keeping it a secret from me and then planning to begin a relationship together.

She was very understanding. She didn’t bullshit. She listened and agreed it was fucked. A friend from 2 doors down had walked into the backyard and was talking to the other police officer outside.

‘That’s not the arsehole is it?’. She said, pointing to my friend.

‘No. No don’t worry that’s my friend. He lives close by, don’t worry’. I said.

‘OK – so you’re not going to hurt yourself?’. She asked.

Long pause.

‘… No’. I said, not looking her in the eye.

They told me to see a mental health professional the next day. They were incredibly nice. I was so fucking embarrassed. I held back a lot of tears. They left.

After that it was like a sad birthday. Everyone letting me do what I wanted. Giving me priority on the aux cord. Letting me talk as I drank out of date beer. Dismal.

Later I tried to sleep but had too much anger inside. My heart rattling around like a single tic tack in my chest. Kept thinking about them. I felt so alone. So ill. So mentally unstable. So sad. I just wanted to play with Lego under the stairs. Make a little house and shoot myself in the head.

I got out of bed. Paced around the kitchen. Shadow boxing like a bogan at a bus stop.

Anger built as I heard someone move around upstairs.

CAN’T FUCK WHEN I SAID YOU COULD - BUT WAIT 5 MINUTES AFTER WE ARN’T TOGETHER AND THEN YOU CAN FUCKING DO IT? You could kill yourself and I’d party. Beer pong on the coffin.

I could barely sit down. So full of anger I couldn’t see. A dark fantasy started to form in my head. I ran to the laptop.

Teeth

He paced around the kitchen bench. More shadow boxing. Punching the air so hard his headphones fell off. Ready. Waiting for him to come downstairs. Or her. Either one. Doesn’t matter. He was ready for both. Who’ll be first he wondered? What’s more entertaining? Her obviously. Tie him up to watch. What an evening! Staying in tonight – having a quiet one with the boys. Quiet minus the screams and begging for death.

He wished they wouldn’t scream so much - the neighbours have lives you know. They have a kid next door – keep it down to a whimper please… You wouldn’t want to scare him, would you?

***

‘OK, hold tight. I’ll be right back… I think I left them in the third draw in the garage…’. He said.

‘What!? What are you getting!?’ The man screamed with a horse throat.

‘The plies of course! Oh, you really have no idea of my methods, do you? Thought you watched the news? If you did you’d know I like to collect teeth! You know… I love a man with a great set of teeth… and you’ve got such pearlers. I’ve been looking for some like yours for ages. They’re going to make a tremendous necklace! So hard to get a good set of teeth these days… Anyway, I’ll be back in 1 minute – don’t go anywhere! Look I know it may seem impossible after shattering your knees and ankles but trust me I’ve had a few that’ve tried… Such determination to nearly make it to the door… Oh I clapped, bravo! Bravo! - Marvellous ability humans. They struggle up until the last minute… Then I bring the orgasm of death!’. He said, pulling his white gloves tighter.  

He went to the garage. Smoke from his cigarette went in his eye as he haphazardly brushed loose teeth off a DVD case in the third draw. Some teeth stuck to the DVD case, still bloody – like flecks of Weet-Bix on a day-old bowl. The DVD – a Blu Ray copy of A Serbian Film was one of his favourite comedy movies. He felt a light dismay that the blood from the teeth had marked the cover. Like pasta sauce on a new T-shirt. Lifting the DVD, he found the plies. He swung them round his finger like a bar blade, enjoying the novelty. He dragged hard on his cigarette and walked back to the entrance of the garage, pushing the hanging corpses to the side like ferns on a bushwalk.

He entered the house.

‘Well this wouldn’t be a party without music!’. He exclaimed.

They whimpered in the centre of the room. He plugged his phone into the stereo. Few moments of silence. His hand moved to the volume knob. Slowly turning it to the right, doing a radio fade in of PNAU’s Chameleon.

‘Ah this’s more like it… Such a track…’. He whispered to himself.

‘Top or bottom?’. He asked, grinning insanely, gesturing with the plies.

‘What the fuck man! Why’re you doing this? Get fucked, fuck off!’. The man replied, squirming on the chair – trying to break his hands free.

Stepping forward he stomped on the man’s broken foot in time with Chameleon as it entered another chorus. The man screamed in pain – the foot making a sound like broken glass in a blender.

‘Top or bottom…?’. He whispered angrily, saliva flinging out like pre-cum into his ear.

‘Fuck off!’. The man screamed, his voice breaking.

The girl sitting to the left also tied up, started crying again.

‘Oh, for fuck sake… Keep it together you worthless cunt… Don’t worry you’ll get a free toothbrush at the end… Jesus… Some people…’. He straightened up, squeezed the plies like chop sticks and grabbed the man’s hair tight with the other hand.

‘Top it is I think!’. He said as he went for the 2 front teeth. He’d been eyeing them off all night. They were so beautiful - like porcelain milk bottle lollies. Hard to get purchase at first. Important not to chip the teeth too much. Too many chipped ones and the necklace looks shit.

Their screams irritated him. Hard to focus when there’s so much carrying on.

***

Hours later the man with no teeth looked aimlessly onto the ground. Most of the teeth had come out fine. But god had he whinged! Begging, pleading, sobbing – pathetic. But fuck they were fantastic teeth!

He turned to the girl.

‘I told you I’d go crazy if you did this…’. He said.

‘I… What!? No… Well… I mean I didn’t think it’d be this bad… I mean…’. She fumbled.

He pulled out an old-style voice recorder and flicked the playback button. His pre-recorded voice played over the static.

‘If you ever do that… I’ll go fucking crazy’. The tape recorder played.

He grinned looking down. The garbage bags were pulled tight on the windows. One corner had dogged eared to let one ray of light through. It fell on her shoulder - revealing the dust in the air.

I finished reading and swung my chair to the right.

‘What do you think?’. I asked my friend.

‘… Ah yeah… Don’t show that to anyone… Keep that on your computer…’. He said.

‘… Actually, bring it to a therapist… You’ve obviously internalised a lot of anger there… I think it’d be good to show someone…’. He continued.

‘So, it’s legally dangerous then?’. I asked.

‘Yeah… No… This’s very over the top and could get you in trouble’. He said.

‘Thank god I showed you – I showed like 2 comedians and they just said it was derivative and needed more punchlines…’. I said.

‘… Well… They’re kinda right – it’s no Babadook’. He said.

‘Yeah, yeah, yeah – look I get it’. I said.

It hurt me a lot. I couldn’t even do the disgusting thing I do – talk about my life on the internet. Even that was taken away from me. Fuck sake. Ever listened to an Eminem song? It’s not real life – fucking hell. I’m an artist man - I’m expressing myself.

Disclaimer: [For the record. I’d never hurt anyone – only myself. I’m not even proud of that horrible fantasy. It’s just what was in my head. Yes, it’s brutal. Yes, it’s mean. But it’s the only way I can deal with my pain. I’d never hurt anyone. I’ve asked and shown the necessary people (obviously it’s in the blog) this piece and have their permission to say what I like. A small consolation prize].

Flash back to the kitchen…

I started messaging him. ‘Come and talk to me’ – I messaged.

No answers. Messaged the group chat. No answers. Intense rage filled me. I knew he was next door. I went out the front door and walked across the street. Smoked a cigarette and kicked a phone box. Went back inside. More pacing. Then back out to the front again. Pacing back and forth like a Crash Bandicoot enemy. I started pacing around the street. Methodically. Walking along the triangle path. I listened to Till I Collapse by Eminem, clenching my fists. No answers. I looked at the house. I could see the silhouette of a head in the window.

I was thinking with my dick man – I’m sorry.

Oh, you got caught up in the moment? If that’s true you can’t freak out so hard if I act aggressive, if I’m angry, if I spit hate at you.

Surely, it’s just the other side of the argument. Yours was a crime of passion. As will mine be. Difference is all I did was kick a phone box and send horrible messages. If I’d done this to you. I’d face you. I’d take a beating. I’d beg to be beaten down till I couldn’t see. I wouldn’t fight back. I’d deserve it. Not fighting back would show you I cared. And I do care. You were my longest friend. Most trusted, most loved. Now it’s all gone.

Everyone was freaking out. I’m sure hiding behind a locked door, stoned out of their minds didn’t help. I was simply waiting for him to face me. I wasn’t being loud. I wasn’t shouting. Sure, I was angry, possibly dangerous. But I was simply waiting. Sitting on a bench across the road. Everyone just go back to bed.

Eventually I went back inside. Rolled back and forth in my bed until it all went black.

***

Mincing around the garage drunk I blew cigarette smoke into the bean sprouts. I had a sudden urge to paint. Paint and kill myself.

***

‘What’re gonna do tonight?’ She asked, shifting on the pillow.

‘Drink and punch myself in the head…’. I said.

I punched my forehead with my left hand.

‘Punch me in the head… Punch me right here’. I said – gesturing to my forehead.

The adrenaline from my own punches made me hang my head back over the chair. I craved it – I just wanted someone to lay me out. Fuck me up. Smash me full frontally. Until I’m spitting blood. Then I’d play guitar.

‘Don’t do that… Your hurting my feelings’. She said with a wobbling lip. She picked up the glass and bottle and walked out the door.

I lay in bed. Hadn’t touched my dick in days. Can’t wank anymore. Makes me think of sex and makes me think of them fucking and I want to throw up.

Lying in my bed I ran the knife over my forearm. Desperately wanting to tear it open like a birthday envelope from a Nan that sends cash. I lacked the balls. How do people start cutting themselves? Are there online tutorials? You’d want to do it right. Instead I punched myself in the head again. It reverberated off the walls – sounding like a bounced basketball.

My dreams were horrible - time lapses of bullshit.

Getting out of bed was like pulling myself through a broken window.

Every day I woke up with a head full of shit. I’d walk around the kitchen. Smoke a cigarette immediately. Cough. Remember the situation. Think about death. Think how long it’ll take to return to a stable mind. Think about the impossibility I’ll make it. Think about trying to be productive during the day. Try to write. Hate myself. Smoke. Water. YouTube trash. Smoke. Think about death.

I’d been smoking 20 grams of rolling tobacco a day. They don’t bring any relief. I’m so full of nicotine, it’s pointless. The ash trays are so full it’s like the end of a game of Jenga trying to find a place to balance the butts.

Maybe I should smoke endless weed I thought. Sit in the garage. Retell pointless anecdotes. Laugh hollowly. Numb my brain and play characters in my mind.

After waking I’d spend 2 hours before I either went back to sleep or start drinking again.

I only had 2 emotional states. Intense rage and deep sadness. The rage filled me with energy. Energy I couldn’t do shit with. I wanted to pummel heads into curbs until eyes hung out and bounced back and forth like yoyos. Then I’d feel so sad I couldn’t move. I’d sit in my chair. Look at objects on the table. Panning across – feeling nothing. No energy to move.

Nothing makes the pain stop. Drinking increases the rotation of the 2 emotions. Not drinking slows the rotation but the modes last longer. Being around people distracted me enough not to go mental. People can only offer kindness though – they can’t fix anything.

Some days were worse than others. When it was real bad I had enough fear to message people to come over. Sometimes they came without me asking.

Few days later I stood in an empty doctor’s waiting room. A cute Asian girl with square glasses typed on a computer behind a desk.

‘Do you have a Medicare card?’. She asked.

‘No’. I said, bluntly.

‘Ah… Ok… Um… Do you have any health insurance?’. She asked.

‘No’. I answered.

‘OK… Ah… Well I’ll have to charge you a $65 fee under the private patient rate’. She said, looking sympathetic.

I paused. Looked at her and then at a sign saying – ‘$30 Cancelation Fee’ on the counter.

‘Um… Actually… Can I just cancel it?’. I said, gearing up to run.

‘Ah, yeah sure… You can cancel, that’s fine, sure, it’s OK’. She said kindly.  

‘Thank you - sorry’. I said.

Walking towards the train station I decided to give myself 365 days. 365 days and if I still felt like this I’d kill myself. Initially I’d given myself a week. I wanted to go to Tasmania. Buy a kilo of magic mushrooms. Go to a nice secluded camping spot. Fill my laptop with my favourite stand up, music, etc. Secure a noose in a tree. Sit under the tree. Take the mushrooms. Trip. See Bill Hicks – hang out, play a little chess, C jam blues, smoke darts. I’d hug him hard, cry on his shoulder. He’d say goodbye and I’d see which way the trip went.

It itched in my mind every day. I dreamt of ripping the long power cord off the ground in the loungeroom. Rushing to the garage. Being quick – so I wouldn’t chicken out. Chuck the cord over the metal bar on the garage ceiling. Get up on a chair, place the cord around my neck – kick the chair away hard. It’d smash the sliding door in slow motion – Dubstep playing in my head.

I dreamt of hanging myself in his room. Move the bed to the side. Set up a noose, spot light, mic stand and mic. Set up a camera to film it. Do a tight 5 – chocking to death. Hopefully have enough energy to introduce the open mic bracket.

I’d give myself a year. I’d thought of a new bit last night and it’d be a shame to waste it. Bought 2 packs of Ventti papers and a small blue lighter. Stood outside a convenience store dragging a cigarette in the rain. I watched an angry bogan walk his BMX across the road towards me - I knew what was coming.

‘Can I buy one of them off ya?’. He spat.

‘Na, sorry man’. I replied.

‘Awhhhh fuuuuck!…’. The bogan moaned, head folding down in pain.

I walked to the train station.

For someone so suicidal I still touched on with my MyKi every time. What a puss. I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned. The bogan from before grinned at me – teeth like a monkey’s knuckle, completely fucked.

‘You dropped your lighter mate!’. He said.

‘Thanks man…’. I said, taking it from his hand.

‘Can I have a smoke now…? He asked.

‘Na man…’. I said.

‘But I gave your fucking lighter back!’. He shouted.

‘No man. Take the fucking lighter – I don’t give a fuck’. I said, handing him the lighter.

‘Fuck the lighter!’. He said angrily, turning away, starting a new conversation with himself out loud.

Push me onto the tracks I prayed. Push me onto the fucking tracks you worthless cunt. He’d push me. I’d turn as I fell. Grab him his rat’s tail. We’d fall onto the tracks. I’d fuck him from behind – holding onto to his miniscule mane. He’d bite down on the train track in pain. 2 entwined - melting into each other as the train ran us over. Buddy Guy screaming in my headphones.

***

We shouldn’t be artists. Art creates more artists. More pointless shouts into the void - no one’s listening. Used to think it was valiant to shout. But no, we’re just babies crying to dead parents. Art’s a reflection of life and life isn’t good. We live it out of fear - not choice. We’re afraid. Afraid of the end – during it’s just tension and release of pain. You don’t want to upset your mum. You don’t want to upset your friends. You buy time every day by not killing yourself. Used to think it was worth living. There’s joy to be had but it’s not worth the pain. An unfair trade. Doctors, mental health professionals are too attached to reality – the reason they managed to become a professional. They’ve attached themselves to something to get balance in a pointless void. They’re deluded. They’ll tell you not to kill yourself. Prescribe mood altering drugs and mental stabilisation pills. So you too will have something to balance on - reality beer goggles.

Killing yourself is bad for the economy – they don’t give a shit about you.

People will try to instil guilt. Make you feel bad about ending it – you’re a pussy, you’re a coward.

What could take more balls? And what’s more cowardly than clinging onto a shit life. Some lives aren’t worth living. Killing yourself isn’t always cowardly. It can be triumphant.

‘Life is like animal porn, it's not for everyone’.

― Doug Stanhope

Everyone’s as scared as you. What’re they working towards? Have they figured it out? No.

I somehow spun that life was good for a few years. I’ve resurfaced out of the bile and I can see. The self needs to be destroyed – it’s a disease. Not our fault. We’re playing a losing game. I feel bad for every human - I want to love them all. We all act selfishly. We think and hope we’re gods. Gods of our specific lives. But we all fail.

I thought I’d found my thing – comedy. Thought once you’d found the thing you liked the most you’d be happy. I was so foolish, so stupid. It’s only made me more miserable. Watching Doug Stanhope, I thought - he’s figured it out, he’s telling truths, this’s how you achieve happiness. Now I see he’s just as miserable as everyone else - possibly more.

Happiness? Distract yourself. Exercise, eat well. Keep busy. Work 40+ hours a week.  

The only thing I gain is being able to express myself online. I don’t want to do it but it’s all I have. I hate myself so much. Every 10-minute interval is a struggle not to think about killing myself. Thinking about quitting comedy. Quitting comedy and life. It’s not worth it. Nothing means anything and my body feels like it’s decaying.

Just keep writing - it hurts but there’s nothing else.

***

Waiting at the counter at a bottle shop the shopkeeper fiddled with a plastic bag for ages. I looked at the bottles behind him on the shelf. A $70 bottle of Chivas Regal. I fantasied it actually tasted good. Like a golden/maple syrup that didn’t hurt to chug. Something to stop me hurting. He continued fiddling with the bag.

‘I do actually work here…’. He said after trying to put 5 bottles in a bag for 4 minutes.

I fantasised he didn’t work there - that he just walked in, tied the kid up in the back and decided to work there, so he could play his Hip-Hop over the sound system. I imagined asking him if he listened to the Hip-Hop crew Homebrew and he’d answer – ‘yes’. He was a rough looking dude. I imagined we’d become friends. He’d introduce me to his crew of delinquents, drug dealers and people that drove too fast. I’d become one of them. We’d be angry together and fuck Asian girls. We’d be shit gangsters. Home brand gangsters listening to Homebrew. I said goodbye and walked out the door, the thought evaporating.

I punched a Winnie-Red. He was right - it was stronger. Middle finger on my right hand was heavily nicotine stained. Smelt like I’d fingered a toaster. Another night of heavy drinking ahead…

***

Walking around the suburbs with her.

‘… He thinks I should move out …’. She said.

This caught me off guard. Why? Didn’t make sense.

‘Why?’. I asked.

‘Ah… Well… He thinks… That… Um… If we’re going to continue to… Um… Yeah… It might be easier if…’. She fumbled out like a juggler with cerebral palsy.

‘Fucking disgusting…’. I breathed.

We kept walking. Lightly bumping shoulders – the touch repelling me like the smell of tequila on a hangover.

‘So how do you feel about him… Now?’. She asked.

‘Well… He’s dead to me… I’ll be civil… But as a person, as a friend, he’s completely dead to me’. I replied.

‘What? Why are you leading him on?’. She asked.

‘Leading him on…? What the fuck is wrong with you?’. I said – shaking my head.

***

I closed the laptop. Stood up. Energy building inside me. I was better now. I cleaned most of the house. Leaving the upstairs bathroom last. Finishing up I picked up the bin from the bathroom and walked to the stairs. Looked down to make sure I didn’t fall I read the words ‘FEEL EVERYTHING’. An empty box of condoms. On the top of the bin. The last thing to have been put in. It filled me with white rage. I gripped the sides of the bin and the plastic creaked.

‘You are the two worst people I’ve ever known’. I said out loud to no one as I showered.

‘I hope nothing works out for you. I hope your lives fall apart. I hope you fail Uni. I hope you get horrendous diseases. I hope you watch each other die. I hope no one comes to the funeral. I hope you remember what you did’. I said, lathering baby shampoo under my arms.

Looked at my face in the mirror - not a glimpse of happiness. Shaving rash on my lower neck.  

Hard to say who I hate more. Him I think. Not by much - but certainly him. Crying on the couch I flashed back to the memories we had together - like a non-shit intro of How I Met Your Mother. I couldn’t process the truth - the betrayal. His whole personality a lie. No integrity. Couldn’t even face me after what he’d done. I’d never do this to him. And if I somehow did – I’d kill myself in shame.

Earlier we’d cried together on the couch. Me and him. I could barely say words. I blew my nose into my shirt again and again until there was almost no room to keep blowing my nose. I said I was sorry for being aggressive and mean. I told him to look after her. He told me he was sorry. Sure – whatever.

***

The thing that plucked me out of the darkness was Son House’s song – Grinning In Your Face. A haunting fucking song. Just a dude singing and clapping. He doesn’t even clap in time. Somehow it adds to it - he doesn’t give a fuck. I heard about this song from Jack White. It’s his favourite song. I watched him do a cover of it. It made me not want to die and say – ‘Na – fuck you cunts!’.

It’d been like a game of chess I seemed destined to fail; playing defensive until I’d ultimately get slaughtered. Giving in. Giving up. Waiting for death. I reassessed what pieces I had left. Thought I only had sadness. Forgot I had a bucket load of hate. I’ve moved out of check and I’m forking the fuck out of your King. Hate on one side sadness on the other. Spit roasting your dismal existence. Where you gonna move? Nowhere to go you uncreative, loose headed motherfuckers.

Remember to like, favourite and subscribe. Hit me up on Flickr, Wikipedia and eBay.

I want to say a thank you to anyone that spoke to me, comforted me and offered support in the last few weeks. You’re kind and sweet people. I’d mostly likely be hanging from a tree somewhere if it wasn’t for you. I love you all.

(P.S. - Also, I obviously don’t condone suicide. Just listen to Son House instead.)