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USER NAME  Noah Smith 

NUMBER   (206) 752-2991

[oneshotnewbie]

Saw an tiktok, and I need YOU to write me a fanfiction about please 🙏 "You've wasted my fucking time. Why are you here?" & "I don't know! Hit me if that makes you feel better!" and then Reader punches them, and the team is kinda proud. Station 19 / Carina x Maya please 💚

- 🎈

𝐴𝑢𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑟𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒: 𝐹𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑣𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝐼 𝑑𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑟𝑒 𝑆𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 19 𝑔𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑝 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝐼 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑖𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑚𝑦 𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑎. 𝐼 ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡'𝑠 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑜𝑘𝑎𝑦 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑛 ♥

𝑆𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: 𝑌𝑜𝑢, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑓𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑡 𝑆𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 19, 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑚𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑒 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑒. 𝑊ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑎 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑢𝑙𝑎𝑟𝑙𝑦 𝑑𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝑆𝑒𝑎𝑛 𝐵𝑒𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑡𝑡 𝑔𝑜𝑒𝑠 𝑤𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑙𝑚𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑑𝑖𝑒 𝑑𝑢𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑤𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠, 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑖𝑛 𝑎 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑟𝑙𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑓 𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓-𝑑𝑜𝑢𝑏𝑡

ᕚ---ᕘ

Sirens blared through the streets of Seattle as the Station 19 fire engine screeched around the corner. In the middle of the loud and chaotic hustle and bustle, you, the young firefighter on this team, sat with your heart pounding and a knot in your stomach. You had already been on numerous missions in the last few months, but this mission was different and more difficult than anything you had experienced before.

You were the youngest on the team, the newcomer, fresh out of the fire academy. You felt the pressure on you every time you slipped into your protective gear and made your way to the scene. But today that pressure seemed unbearable.

Sean Beckett, an actual experienced firefighter and team leader, gave the commands. His tone was harsh, but something about him was off. You saw it in his appearance, his looks and felt it in your gut that something was wrong. But what you didn't realized was that you would end up in a situation that would spiral out of control.

As you entered the burning multi-story building, you were hit with instant heat and the smoke made it hard to see. Sean gave instructions, but they sounded wrong, confusing. He repeated them several times, slurring every other word and often took routes around instead of getting to the point. You hesitated, but you couldn't stop following the instructions. You had to follow them so as not to rob the team of security and you trusted the decades of experience and authority of your team leader. But Sean Beckett hadn't told you that the floor you were in was already in danger of collapsing before the fire. Even though he had well-known beforehand.

Suddenly, part of the ceiling on the third floor collapsed and the fire spread rapidly. You ducked tot he side and were torn apart from your team. In the midst of the chaos, you also briefly lost your bearings. When your vision was clear again and the mixture of smoke and dust had cleared, you noticed a wildly waving hand fighting for your attention in the corner, calling for help.

"Captain, the ceiling collapsed and I was separated from the others. I suffered no injuries but I did spot a civilian that I am heading towards now." you said, running to save the person. But as you got closer, you realized it was too late. The man was severely trapped under a larger piece of concrete and the fire had already spread onto the walls where he was buried next to. You tried desperately to remove the mass from him but it was hopeless - you would never get the concrete block off him on your own.

You heard muffled screams behind you. Maya, Jack and Andy looked for you, but you couldn't leave, you were now trapped by the fire that had spread around you. The flames drew closer and you knew you were in danger. "Beckett, I'm stuck. The flames have trapped me, I need help."

But there was no answer. Nothing. Only silences that came to you inexplicably. "Beckett! Are you there? I need help!" you shouted desperately, looking around in panic. You tried to face your team, screaming for their names, and at that moment the dust above you trickled before the other part of the ceiling collapsed on you.

Everything went black and for a moment you thought this was the end. But then you heard your team's voices once again, this time closer and felt the slow shaking of the ground. Steps. Before hands grabbed you. You were pulled from the rubble.

As you looked around, briefly sitting down on one of the blocks to take a deep breath, you saw the worried faces of your colleagues. Andy stood there, her face marred by smoke and ash. She was limping as she pulled you up to get you back on your feet. "Are you okay?" She asked and you nodded silently, unable to speak.

A sudden wave of anger and self-doubt bubbled up inside you. Sean hadn't answered, had put you in danger, almost killed you because he didn't give instructions. And now a person lay dead in the rubble. The thoughts tormented you and grew stronger as the mission ended. You didn't know how to deal with it. But you promised yourself that you would hold Sean accountable for yourself and for everyone else on the team who was put in danger by him.

The smell of smoke and burnt materials still lingered in your hair as the team returned to the station. The operation had been disastrous and the mood was depressed. You felt especially worn out after almost losing your own life and those of others due to false commands given by Sean Beckett or his failure to respond at all.

The team gathered in the locker room to remove equipment and discuss the day's events. You sat quietly, your gaze fixed on the floor, while the others engaged in tired conversation and licked their wounds.

Finally Sean Beckett came in, his expression serious and tense. He was aware that something between him and you needed to be resolved and as he approached you, he could already feel the cold breath of anger radiating from you. "Y/n, I think we need to have a talk. In my office."

You abruptly stood up from Andy's side where you had been helping tend to her knee, your gaze locked on Sean as you confronted him in front of everyone. "Do it in front of everyone and tell them that you ignored my calls and I almost died because of it!" you spat in frustration, putting your arms under your chest before continuing. "You wasted my damn time and almost killed me. Why are you here if you can't give clear instructions?"

The words echoed in the locker room and an oppressive silence fell over the team. All eyes turned to Sean, who seemed speechless for a moment, sipping from his plastic cup before going back to proving his strength, completely off track. "I don't know! Hit me if it makes you feel better!" his voice shook and your fists clenched with emotion and pure anger.

The team froze as the situation threatened to escalate. Suddenly and unpredictably, with a look of immense frustration and determination on your face, you lunged and punched him in the face. A thud filled the cabin, followed by a moment of silence and the crack of the cup, its contents spilling all over the resilient flooring. Then there were loud shouts of surprise from the team, some hands of Maya and Warren holding parts of your body to pull you back.

Sean staggered back, surprised by the unexpected attack but also by the force of emotions that erupted from you. You hadn't held back, but had given free rein to your desperation. "And if you want to denounce me to the union about it, I will personally go there and tell them about you drinking on shift. Others may shy away from it because of the fear, but certainly not me."

As the excitement slowly died down and Sean pulled away without further words, Sullivan squeezed past you while Victoria still held you close, afraid that you would walk after him and smack him again, and inspected the liquid on the floor more accurate.

His fingers dipped into the brown liquid before he put them to his nose, his facial expression contorting sharply. "Whiskey. How did you know?" He asked you immediately, his gaze serious while pride nestled in his eyes. "His statements were unclear. Shy of light. Pale skin. Shaking while driving. Not to mention the stench that emanated from him just as he spoke to me."

The team realized you didn't need a protective cover and could fight your own battles. Andy had hugged you tightly from behind and spoke with a quiet smile. "You have shown that you are not only the youngest, but also one of the bravest and strongest here. We are proud of you."

You were celebrated for your authenticity and strength while feeling exhausted and relieved by the support of the team. The incident had changed something - not only in the relationship between you and your captain, but also in your self-confidence and your position within the team. You were no longer a newcomer, but a full member.

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[lenbryant]

A Deus Ex Machina For Non-Profit Theater in America???

Nonprofit Theaters Are in Trouble. Lawmakers Are Proposing Help.

Proposed legislation would allocate $1 billion annually for an industry coping with rising expenses and smaller audiences.

The financial crisis facing nonprofit theaters in America has captured the attention of Congress, where a group of Democratic lawmakers is introducing legislation that would direct $1 billion annually to the struggling industry for five years.

That money could be used for payroll and workforce development, as well as other expenses like rent, set-building and marketing. But the legislation, which lawmakers plan to introduce on Tuesday, faces long odds at a time when a divided Congress — where Republicans control the House and Democrats lead the Senate — has had trouble agreeing on anything.

Nonprofit theaters around the country have reduced their programming and laid off workers to cope with rising expenses and smaller audiences since the coronavirus pandemic began. There are exceptions — some nonprofit theaters say they are thriving — but several companies, including New Repertory Theater in suburban Boston, Southern Rep Theater in New Orleans, and Book-It Repertory Theater in Seattle, have ceased or suspended operations in response to the crisis.

“It hasn’t been a recovery for the nonprofits — they’re really lagging compared to many other sectors in the economy, and it’s for a lot of reasons,” Senator Peter Welch of Vermont, one of the legislation’s sponsors, said in an interview. “So they do need help.”

Mr. Welch argued that the organizations merit government assistance because they strengthen communities and benefit local economies.

The legislation, which is called the Supporting Theater and the Arts to Galvanize the Economy (STAGE) Act of 2024, is also being sponsored by Senators John Fetterman of Pennsylvania and Jack Reed of Rhode Island. Representative Suzanne Bonamici of Oregon is sponsoring it in the House.

Senator Chuck Schumer of New York, who is the majority leader and who led the fight to win government aid for performing arts organizations during the pandemic, is supportive of the proposed legislation and is also open to other ways to assist nonprofit theaters, according to a spokesman.

The pandemic aid package that Mr. Schumer championed serves as a precedent: In 2020, Congress passed the Save Our Stages Act, which led to a $16 billion Shuttered Venue Operators Grant program that made money available to a wide array of commercial and nonprofit performing arts organizations.

Mr. Welch said the earlier aid program succeeded despite initial skepticism.

“With everything else that was going on, the expectation was this would die on the vine, but it didn’t — as this started getting momentum, there was excitement about being about to do something concrete,” he said.

The new legislation is narrower, benefiting only professional nonprofit theaters, and only those that have either seen a decline in revenues or that primarily serve historically underserved communities.

“This is a beginning,” Mr. Welch said. “There are obstacles, but let the effort begin.”

[racingtoaredlight]

Opening Bell: May 22nd, 2023

Congratulations to Seattle on being named America’s Dog Poop Capital!

The Toronto Blue Jays are the latest sports franchise jacking their ticket prices WAY up and pricing out longtime season-ticket holders.

They’re called “water buffalo” for a reason, lady; of course they wanted to hang out in your pool.

Scientists may have found a better way to dispose of diapers: mix them into concrete.

CANADIAN KEY PARTY!

Get a load of this ridiculous chump of a principal in Colorado. 

Finally, it’s gotta be a real bummer to put your time and effort into a manifesto you can can proud of, only for you to be arrested before having the chance to set your plans into motion.

[thesmokingguns]

Wendy and The Lost Boys Chapter Three

Summer was ending and Nikki realized that Sasha was not going to be permanently living with them. At first it started because she was going out more and then there were a few boxes that appeared in the living room one day. She wasn’t going out as much anymore as she tried to adjust to the schedule she would have in school.

Sasha was sitting in the window frame that acted as a door. Her coffee in one hand a book balanced on her lap. The LA sun was shining against her skin, the sun highlighting her blonde hair. The cigarette hung from her lips as she turned the page to her book, her bare foot sliding in the concrete outside that she was using to keep her balance. She glanced down at the street waiting for Tommy’s parents to pull up. They would be helping her sign in and get settled in on move-in day.

“Why do you sit in the fucking doorway?” Her head snapped up seeing Nikki walking up the stairs. Her eyes rolled as she shifted to stand inside the apartment. He glanced down at her bare feet, scooping her up and dropping her on the couch when he saw a cockroach. “There’s bugs in the apartment, Angel, you know better.” She tucked her feet under her watching Nikki sit down beside her. He had expected her to be gone already. He had spent the night out and even broke his rule about sleeping over just to avoid seeing her leave.

“Why have you been avoiding me?”she asked, leaning closer to him. Nikki was laying back rubbing the hangover that was settling in strongly. Sasha pressed her cup of coffee into his hands, making him open his eyes, almost shocked to see her sitting close to him, “Since I told you I was leaving you’ve been acting like I’m gone.” Nikki tried to sip the coffee she had given him to keep himself quiet. How did she always make the perfect cup of coffee? But she was looking at him, her blue eyes seeming to stare holes in him.

“Is that my shirt?” she looked down at the Trex shirt she was wearing. “Why are you always stealing everyones clothing?”  He wasn’t mad about it but as soon as it came out of his mouth he realized how bad it sounded. Sasha stood up, tugging off the shirt aggravated. She threw it at him, the fabric covering his face.

“You are a self centered prick, Nikki Sixx.” He was shocked to see her standing in her white bra, her black tiny shirts barely covering her. Her hand on her hips as she went to walk away, “No. No. No. No.” she came back into the room, “I do not understand you at all. Sometimes you’re so nice to me and you want to hang or talk and other times it’s like you’re a stranger. You turn into a total prick. Like the fucking shirt thing? Nikki, cmon. This apartment is like one Unisex closet.” she tossed up her arms frustrated. “I’m leaving today and I’m leaving on bad terms with you because of how you decided to act and how you decided to treat me. And when I don’t come to shows or I don’t talk to you at shows you can remember this last month where you put your stupid head up your big dumb ass.” she went to leave again sure that she woke up everyone in the apartment but he grabbed her wrist pushing the shirt into her arms.

He held her for a beat longer as she looked up at him with those big blue eyes. He wanted to kiss her and tell her to stay in the apartment. He’d pay for her to take cabs there if she wanted to go to school but he wanted her to stay. And the way she was looking at him made him aware of what he had to do; if he asked her to stay she’d say yes.

“Have fun at college, Angel.” he walked towards his room slamming the door behind him. Sasha pulled his shirt back over her head and turned, giving the closed door a two finger salute. There had been this tension between Nikki and her since she spent the night in his bed. She was sure that if they just fucked and ripped the bandaid off it would be gone. But she also knew she couldn’t be that one time girl and Nikki, as much of a sleaze as he was, wouldn’t fuck her like that.

“Sasha, Tommy. Are you two ready?” She turned waving at the set of parents standing outside the window and knocked, pushing the door open to Tommy’s room. The sting of tears seeming to come up without her realizing she was crying. She wiped the tears away with the back of her hand grabbing the sunglasses and pushing them on along with grabbing her purse.

“Tommy.” She pressed her toe into him before kicking him, making the drummer groan as she sat down on the edge of the bed sliding onto the bed to pull her shoes in, “Parents are here to help me move. Are you coming?” She asked this knowing he wouldn’t say no to her.

“What’s wrong?” Tommy asked as he pulled on a pair of questionably clean leather pants. He was already lighting up a cigarette without even being awake for five minutes. “I thought I heard yelling and you’re wearing sunglasses inside.” He was pulling on his chucks and she wondered how he could bend his legs in those pants.

“Your bassist is a prick.” She told him, moving to make the bed. She always made the bed for them; at home his mother had always done this after breakfast. It was a small habit that she had picked up, loving the feeling of someone caring about her enough to have a clean place to sleep in. Tommy gave her a funny look wondering what the hell that meant.

“He couldn’t be that bad. You’re wearing his favorite shirt. That’s the only thing other than his bass that he left Seattle with.” She couldn’t get another word in because Tommy was dragging her through the apartment ready to get her off to school. All she could think about was Nikki.

It had been a week of Sasha being out of the house. Not even a full week more like five days and they had let the apartment go to shit. Tommy had taken to setting cockroaches on fire leaving black charred spots in the carpet, no one was doing the dishes anymore so at a part they had taken to smashing the dirty plates she had bought against the wall above where Vince was trying to get with some chick, and their clothes all needed to be washed because she wasn’t there to remind them to go to the laundromat. They had survived on beer, cocaine and cigarettes for the week and were all missing the young blonde who had been keeping them in line more than they realized. So they came up with a plan.

It was Friday night and they weren’t playing a show until tomorrow night. So they all got into a taxi with booze headed to the campus to see Sasha. They fell out of the taxi twenty minutes later getting looks from a few people. Tommy lead them over to the building she was staying in and up the stairs to her dorm room. They were all being loud, the excited energy to see her building with each step. As they knocked on the door waiting for her to open up they were sure she’d be so excited to see them.

“Are you looking for Sasha?” A girl asked peeking her head out of the room nextdoor. They nodded, “She got invited out to some club on the strip. They all left an hour ago.” The girl told them.

“Sasha went out to the Strip without us?” Vince asked. He had been dragged along with the promise of eager college girls and now was trying to accept that this wasn’t happening, “Wait, did she go with her roommates?” He asked hoping they could at least catch up with her and he’d still have a shot.

“Yeah, and some girls from a sorority that wants her to pledge. The boys from the fraternity picked them up to take them all out.”

“BOYS?!” Tommy and Nikki both said at the same time. The girl looked at them like they were all lunatics. Which was pretty accurate with the way that they were acting.

“Thanks. Let’s go back to the Strip.” Vince was pulling them out eager to get to where the party was.

Nikki was seething as they got into the cab. He was drinking the Jack Daniels he had brought and smoking cigarettes without saying a single word. Tommy was trying to figure out where they could be but he already knew exactly where she was going to be.

“She’s at Gazzarri’s, Tommy. It’s 18 plus and she always used to try to get us to go dancing all summer. Now she found people to go dancing with her.” Nikki was going to break someone’s hands if they were dancing with her. He didn’t know why he was so mad about everything.

“Give me the beer and I’ll take it back to the apartment. I’m not going to some fucking disco music club.” Mick told them, grabbing the beer off Tommy’s lap as they pulled up to the club.

“She’s probably just having a good time with her new friends. I think you’re both overreacting.” Vince warned as they walked into the club. “She’s 18 and in college. She needs to have friends that aren’t the terror twins.” Tommy and Nikki were not going to listen to the singers good advice. Everyone headed inside the club. The music was trash being played by some shitty Top 40 band, not the stuff they had her around all summer. They all split up ready to make sure they found her and she was okay.

Nikki saw her first. She was in this silver striped halter top jumpsuit that had no back and was cut so low in the front that as she danced she knew everyone was waiting for something to spill out. Her blonde hair was curled at the edges with a silver headband tied around her. Thin arms moving as tinkles of silver bracelets slid up her arm drawing even more attention to her. She had to be wearing platforms if she was looking that tall on the dance floor. Her cheeks were pink with these bright cherry lips just begging to be kissed. There seemed to be a constant stream of people coming up to her asking her to come sit at their tables but she just laughed holding onto some girls hand or asking them

If they wanted to go. She was guiding people to the tables so she stayed elusive. Nikki watched someone hand her a drink, the way her mouth opened letting some fucking prep slip some pill in her mouth, the way she smiled around his fingers before sipping her drink turning to dance with her friends again and leaving him had Nikki pushing through the crowd to get to her. Super Freak Started playing and he watched the way her hair was shaking and the smile on her face. She was so easy in her happiness with these strangers around her. Nikki on the other hand felt his ears bleeding as he thought about going to the roof after this and jumping off.

He finally got over to her as Private Eyes started playing. Nikki audiably groaned as she spun her hands clapping along to the song. Why the fuck did they have to play Hall and Oats? He had spent the summer trying to scratch the record that didn’t seem to want to break. Nikki was shrugging off girls finally reaching out to pull Sasha close to him. She gave him this look like she was going to yell at him until she realized who it was. Her eyes were as big as saucers and he thought for a second she was shocked to see him but she was high as could be. Her body shimmying against him as her arms wrapped around his neck with easy laughter.

“What the fuck did you take?” He asked trying to get her off the dance floor but it didn’t see that they were going to get away from all these lunatics clapping. Sasha rolled her hips into his, her blonde hair shaking as she thought him trying to drag her off the dance floor was a new dance. Her hands moved to clap making him lose contact, “Jesus fucking Christ, what is wrong with you?” He grunted as she brushed against him, her back to him as her ass brushed against him. Why did this freeze him? Her body moving to the beat of the music with small interruptions of claps and laughs.

“Private eyes, they’re watching you.” She was singing in her soft voice. His arm was in her hips as he tried again to guide them off the dance floor, this time with a bit more luck. “Oh, man, Nikki. You finally came out dancing with me.” She turned, throwing him off balance and making him stop and look at her again.

“Did you do blow?” He asked her curiously; the erratic way she was acting threw him off. She laughed leaning into him and reaching into his jacket pocket pulling out his cigarettes helping herself to one. She turned around and smiled as someone reached out lighting the cigarette for her. How the fuck was she doing this? Nikki wondered.

“Black beauty. It’s a little pill and man, Sixx. I can focus and get everything done at school. And dancing is so fun.” As much as Nikki liked drugs and liked seeing Sasha with that big smile on her face he didn’t like the two of them together. He shook his head, Vince was dancing and obviously didn’t care they had found the girl they came for but Tommy spotted them heading over.

“Jesus, are you high?” Was the first thing he asked her looking at her wide blue eyes. She laughed at him in response. “What the fuck?” Tommy asked, guiding them into a booth and sliding her in between the pair of them.

“She took a Black Beauty.” Nikki explained ordering a Jack Daniels. Sasha ordered an Alabama Slammer and Tommy just got a beer, “What the fuck did you just order?” Nikki asked her confused.

“You’ve been in college for a week and you’re doing drugs and making up weird names for drinks.” Tommy shook his head watching the way she just laughed it off. “Are you having fun? Do you miss me? Are you sleeping at night?” He asked her genuinely concerned about her.

“It’s so fun, I’m going to pledge to a sorority. It’s so easy to make friends but like a lot of girls go to college just to get married so that’s weird. But I miss you so much Tommy. And to sleep I just take half a Quack.” Nikki looked at her and shook his head.

“You’re moving back in with us. Fucking uppers and downers, is this some sort of joke?” Nikki asked, he didn’t like all these changes. She had left in scuffed up Keds and now she was in a barely there shiny jumpsuit, drinking some red drink. The only thing that was the same was she was smoking his cigarettes.

“You’re being very uncool.” Sasha said side eyeing him. She held up her drink letting Tommy try it. Before she could elaborate more about why he was so uncool, three girls were squeezing into the booth with them.

“Oh my gosh, this place is hella radical! You were like so right, Sasha.” Some curly haired blonde said not seeming to notice the men.

“Honestly, your bod is rocking in that jumpsuit. I knew when we were shopping you’d look amazing. Like all those super grody frat dudes couldn’t get their mitts off you on the dance floor.” A brunette butted in. Sasha was climbing over Nikki’s lap as he tried to push her back into the seat next to him. He wanted a barrier between her and these ducking chicks speaking in Valley talk . Another girl slid in besides Tommy and she was trapped on his lap.

“Great move, Sixx.” She muttered annoyed as she perched on his thigh. He looked over at the drummer who seemed to be wrapped up in the newest addition to the table. She readjusted, pressing into his lap and he knew he couldn’t move her: “Nikki, Tommy, these are my girlfriends Jessica, Jennifer, Ashley and Tiffany. These are some of the guys I was telling you about.”

“That’s THE Nikki?” The one named Heather asked leaning forward, “I guess you guys are really in a band.” She commented looking at the two boys. Nikki was lost with what “the” Nikki meant. He was even more lost with the high pitched voices and stupid phrases these girls were saying and how Sasha was taking like she had been born a Valley girl. When he saw Tommy spilling out of the booth with Tiffany he pulled Sasha along with them.

“There’s a show tomorrow night at The Rainbow, you can see we really are a band then.” He threw his arm around Sasha moving out of the club with her tucked under his arm, “Your friends are loud.” He told her as they poured onto the packed sidewalk of the Strip.

“Okay, old man.” She teased him easily but was secretly thankful he had gotten them out of there. Sasha was still mad about what had happened back at the apartment before she left. As she came down from her high as they walked she stuck out her hand, hailing a cab. “I’ll see you around, Sixx.” She said moving from him and sliding until the yellow cab. He gave her a confused look sliding in next to her.

“Why are you taking a cab when the apartment is around the corner?” He asked as they pulled away. She was looking at him with annoyance shining in her eyes. Obviously she wasn’t high anymore and for some reason that was making her way less fun.“Why are you mad at me? Don’t give me attitude, Angel.” She looked at him surprised that he would even ask that, “Oh you’re still mad about last month?” He asked as if he hadn’t ignored her and been a complete dickhead.

“You hurt my feelings.” She said digging in the small purse for her cigarettes, pulling out the red pack and lighting one up, “And you did it on purpose to be an asshole.” She told him as she cranked the window down to let out the smoke.

Nikki watched her, the way her blonde hair was done and her makeup. She probably had to get one of the girls to help her sign everything. Her clothing was so different from her everyday look of a band shirt and a denim jacket that he had seen  her practically live in for six months. It was like a week away had changed her and gave her a new look on how people were. She was absolutely gorgeous and he wondered if she knew it. He let his hand wander across the vinyl seats, his pinky finger tracing her fingers before he took her hand in his own.

“I’m sorry I hurt your feelings.” She gave him a small smirk, looking to see the serious way Nikki was staring at her, “But I knew that if you went to college you’d change. It’s been a week and we’ve already found you dancing looking like you’re ready to be on the cover of a magazine.” She gave him a serious look to match his own.

“Hustler or Playboy?” He was staring at her not seeming to understand what she was asking, “For the magazine. Because you’re more of a Hustler guy and I’m more of a Playgirl girl. Some of us are classy and some of us put everything on display.” Nikki smiled, this is what he had missed. Her stupid one liners and joked with her. When the taxi stopped she jumped out looking at him, “Pay him and let’s go. I’m cold.” She motioned to her outfit and started walking towards the door to her dorm building. Nikki threw money in the front heading in behind her.

The dorm hallways smelled like pot and he was surprised at how much it was like being in the strip. There was loud music and kids that were out of control. The only difference was most of these kids had money or at least had an idea of what their life would be like. The Sunset had this seedy feeling about it but once they were in the small room with the two beds the feeling was gone. It was obvious that her bed was on the left from the Keds that were peeking out from under it and the band posters and Polaroids tacked to the wall.

“Before you sit down can you unbutton this?” Sasha was kicking off her platforms moving over to him looking a little more normal as she pulled out her silver headband. She turned when she was in front of him, pulling her hair forward and exposing her back. Nikki licked his lips, his fingers going to get delicate buttons of the halter top.

“What’s this from?” His fingers felt the scars on her shoulder. She had always covered up so he never saw the cluster of raised skin before. She shivered feeling the halter top click open but Nikki’s fingers were still tracing the marks.

“Tommy’s singer and I dated for a few years when I was a kid. He attacked me one night, he beat the hell out of me and used a broken beer bottle to stab me. That’s what those are from. If Tommy and his mom didn’t come to the apartment that night I would have died.” She had her arms crossed against her chest but shifted letting the shiny fabric pool at her feet, “That’s when Tommy’s family took me in and so became a Lee and why he treats me like I’m made of glass sometimes.” She explained. Nikki frowned, his lips moving to kiss the skin.

“I’m sorry someone hurt you.” His breath tickled her ear as his mouth moved back leaving these soft, feather kisses on the mass of scars. Sasha wanted to kiss Nikki but she was still letting his hands slide down to hold her panties, his fingers hooking into the lace like he was about to rip it down. She could feel him pressing against her and knew Nikki wanted her. “I can’t have sex with you.” His head fell into the crook of her neck and she was sure she was going to die of embarrassment right there. Her whole body had been reacting to his kindness.

“What?” She asked into the darkness. Her head was muddled and she couldn’t figure out what the hell he was trying to say to her, “You fuck anything with a pulse.” She teased trying to keep it light and wanting to feel his hands touching her. She had only been with one person before and never had her body turned to pure goo in his hands. Nikki could smell her soap, her skin from dancing, and even a trace of perfume that was new. His lips traced her neck wanting to suck the spot there that would make her knees buckle. He wanted to leave angry purple marks that said keep away to others.

“I can’t be what you want from me. I’m not going to hurt you.” Sasha gulped hearing what he was saying to her, trying to process his words when her body was trying to confuse her. “Do you understand what I’m trying to say to you?” Nikki asked. His breath was tickling her ear and she felt like she should bend over something and just let him at it. Nikki’s knuckles were white holding her panties, afraid they were going to rip from the pressure but needing to keep his hands off her or he couldn’t be held responsible for what he did.

“Yes, wait what... no.” She wanted to turn and look at him but she was so confused. She could smell Nikki behind her and it was just making it harder to understand what he was trying to say to her. The feeling of leather on her bare skin as he shifted behind her caused a soft moan from her lips. Nikki froze hearing this.

“Please, don’t make this harder, angel.” He begged his hands starting to ease out the knot he had tangled them in with her underwear. She stepped forward, away from him, giving them both a break from each other’s bodies. Sasha reached for a shirt pulling it on before turning to look at him. Nikki could see the pink of her cheeks, the heat having settled there. She was wearing his T Rex shirt again. “Nice shirt.” He commented causing her to look down. She remembered how Tommy had told her the importance of that shirt and looked back up at him.

“You don’t want to fuck me because you can’t commit to me. You’ll cheat on me and hurt me.” The way she said it made him feel guilty. But it was the truth. Even if he wanted to commit to her there was no way that his dick would allow him to. He’d get high after a show and the next thing he would know there would be some brunette between his legs as he came down her throat. He couldn’t stop things he wasn’t aware were happening. But Sasha seemed to understand that. She nodded her head. “Okay, well at least spend the night and sleep here.” She had a million thoughts going through her head. “If you want you can come down to breakfast with me and then we can go to the laundromat after. Your clothes fucking stink.” She said turning the blanket over and getting under the covers. Nikki watched her get comfortable as he stripped down to her underwear.

“Thanks for not making things weird between us.” He said as she adjusted to let him spoon her. She had handled everything way better than he had expected her to. Sasha let out a yawn.

“It’s okay. I’ll just fuck other guys and have slutty college years like I’m supposed to.” She pretended to settle down even though she had felt Nikki tense against her. She knew he was angry but kept her smile to himself. She was going to drive him out of his fucking mind for telling her no.

[bobby-hockey]

first line meme!

rules: list the first lines of the last ten (10) stories you published. look to see any patterns you notice yourself, and see if anyone else notices any. then tag some friends!

hi hen @fourteenfifteen thank you for the tag :)

the first seven are original fiction and the rest is blaseball fanfic, some of it's published some of it's not and im bending the rules bc im including chapter openers as well. pls forgive me hen

Roll Four Lines (the 2017-18 nashville predators): Jarle generally isn’t the kind of person to let bad games get to him.

tell me again (The Next One alternate perspective outtake): How does Taylor Jaycox feel about the QMJHL draft?

untitled creepy gross meat wip: He’s an outsider in this locker room.

(Dump and Chase, Chapter ?): Way out here on the edge of Bendbrook Falls, it’s as quiet as it ever gets: the frogs sing a lullaby to the sun, slowly joined by the crickets as the last light sinks over the mountains.

(Dump and Chase, Chapter ?): “You owe me three hundred bucks,” Toby says, sashaying into the apartment with all the grace of a grizzly bear on a tightrope.

(Dump and Chase, Chapter ?): Gozy puts on the Habs game before Jack can tell him that he’d really rather just sleep.

Battery (the san diego padres): Laying on his back on a hotel bed in San Diego, Lars Lyon doesn’t look much like the future of baseball.

as second sun came past the glass (ffs end of expansion era blaseball fanfic): When Wesley blinks he can see the supernova superimposed supervisory, peering over his shoulder, nothing but menace, and a desert so wide and so dark the only water is his own tears at the loneliness of it: a sea upside-down, like Wesley could swim into the starless sky and plunge into the depths of the lake he loves.

i got game face but it's all for show (ffs end of expansion era blaseball fanfic): When Gerund drags herself from the river, stiff fingers scraping concrete, she recognizes the city she’s in, a half-afterthought.

and coming back all damaged (ffs andrew/leon short circuit blaseball fanfic): It’s September in Seattle but the drizzling rain and unhappy breeze don’t stop the Garage from packing itself full of fans dressed in navy and red.

tagging: @avi-why @keen2meecha n anyone else who wants to take a crack at it! no pressure ofc but if you do it pls tag me i want to read other ppls' self analysis

observations under the cut since they got really long lol

observations: wow i sure don't like opening with dialogue, do i. i think i tend toward trying to set the scene every time i open something new; even in chaptered works my chapters tend to self-conclude and i don't write chapter cliffhangers that much, and when i do i usually transition away to a different scene to Let That Boy Marinate so to speak. so i'm always trying to Establish A Context but that doesn't always make for a fun hook

my fanfiction openers are a little bit more descriptive and punchy, i think partly because i'm working on a limited word budget w/ the 12x100 format, and also because i'm not adopting the more casual tone that i like my original work to be in.

that could Also be because i'm not really writing outside of my comfort zone (for the most part) w/ my original fic and i can take bigger risks w/ fanfiction because it's low-impact. and (ironically given i work w/in a certain structure in blaseball fic) it's relatively unstructured re: universal continuity; i can just handwave any inconsistencies since blaseball has, to use a kind of bad analogy, resonance structures; i can portray things in different ways and still have it represent the same molecule and that's fine. but w/ my original work i have such a need for it to be internally consistent that it needs to be correct and i think constraining myself like that isn't necessarily a bad thing but like, upon reflecting it's restricting my creative innovation.

in general i also try to Name My Characters in the opening lines but i just think that's good practice because i personally prefer to see a character (or group of characters, i.e. a team) be named so i have some sort of anchor point. obviously the exception in that collection is the creepygrossmeat wip but i think i might pull an annihilation with that and just not give anyone names outside of their function. we'll see lol it's a wip for a reason.

anyway that's it (sorry it's so long i'm in a literature class that is all about close reading)

[howaminotinthestrokesyet]

Behind The Album: In Utero

The third and final studio album from Nirvana was released in September 1993 via DGC records. The band wanted to make a clear departure from how their second album sounded. They felt that their huge hit album, Nevermind, was too polished as a record. The producer of that second LP, Butch Vig, would later note that Kurt Cobain needed to “reclaim his punk ethics or cred.” For his part Cobain would tell Rolling Stone in early 1992 that the record would have elements to it much more raw then found on the second album. However, he did emphasize the fact that the pop sound would not disappear entirely. He had hoped to start working on it l in the middle of 1992, but distance between band members getting together was an issue as they all lived in different cities. Another issue came in the fact that Courtney Love was expecting their first child. DGC was hoping to release a new record by Christmas of the year, but instead they were forced to go with the compilation album of all the early material from Sub Pop, Incesticide. For In Utero, Cobain showed interest in working with former producer of Bleach, Jack Endino and Steve Albini. They brought in Endino to work on a few instrumentals for the record that were eventually re-recorded, and he was never asked to produce in any capacity. The group went back and forth debating whether to hire Albini or not. In January 1993, the group recorded another set of demos while on tour in Rio De Janeiro, Brazil. This would later become the track, “Gallons of Rubbing Alcohol Flow Through the Strip,” which originally had the working title of I’ll Take You Down to the Pavement. The latter represented a direct reference to an argument between Cobain and Guns N’ Roses frontman Axl Rose at the 1992 MTV Video Music Awards. The band finally decided to go with Albini as a producer despite his reputation of strict discipline within the studio and remaining one of the most opinionated producers out there. He was said to have referred to Nirvana as “REM with a fuzz box, unremarkable Seattle sound.” He would later say that his decision to work with the band came out of sympathy, feeling smaller groups like Nirvana were at the mercy of the record label. This particular statement should be taken with a grain of salt as Nirvana had just released the biggest record since Appetite for Destruction. Cobain had been a fan of the producer based on his work with the Pixies and the Breeders.

Producer Albini wanted to complete recording within a strict two week timeframe. Nirvana paid for the recording sessions themselves on Albini’s suggestion to avoid interference from the record label. The band paid him $24,000 for his services, while he refused any royalties whatsoever, which would have amounted to $500,000. He would continually say that royalties were immoral and a complete insult to the artist. They recorded at Pachyderm Studios in Cannon Falls, Minnesota in February 1993. Krist Novoselic would compare the environment to a gulag. “There was snow outside, we couldn't go anywhere. We just worked." Nirvana during this time emphasized to the record company that they wanted absolutely no interference from them, which meant they did not share anything from these sessions with their A & R representative. For his part, Steve Albini followed suit by only speaking with members of the band. He characterized anyone associated with the group as “pieces of shit.” After a short delay, the band's equipment finally arrived, so the actual recording of the album went very quickly. Each track began with the group playing together as one doing the instrumental aspect of it. For some tracks, Dave Grohl did the drums in the kitchen due to the natural acoustics sounding better. Albini had also surrounded his drums with 30 microphones for each track. They did not remove any take from the album, but instead kept them all. Cobain even added more guitar parts at the end of each day before doing the vocals. Although Albini had a reputation for being opinionated, he let Nirvana decide what to keep. “Generally speaking, [Cobain] knows what he thinks is acceptable and what isn't acceptable [...] He can make concrete steps to improve things that he doesn't think are acceptable." They did all of their musical work in six days, while Cobain said that it was the easiest recording he had ever done. Albini proceeded to mix the album in five days, which actually was slow by his standards because he usually only spent 1 to 2 days on it.

After completion, the band began to send the unmastered tapes to various people including the president of the DGC records. They absolutely hated it saying the songwriting was mediocre, the entire album was unlistenable, and radio would never except Albini’s production. Cobain took the comments personally to mean that the label wanted him to start from scratch and record again with a new producer. He would say, “I should just re-record this record and do the same thing we did last year because we sold out last year—there's no reason to try and redeem ourselves as artists at this point. I can't help myself—I'm just putting out a record I would like to listen to at home." Yet, the group remained dead set on releasing this version of the record as late as April 1993. They had played it for a number of their friends, who had liked it. The singer said, “Of course, they want another Nevermind, but I'd rather die than do that. This is exactly the kind of record I would buy as a fan, that I would enjoy owning." Around this time, some doubts crept up with all members of Nirvana because the mix of In Utero did not sound right. They asked Albini to possibly remix the record, and he flat out refused. “[Cobain] wanted to make a record that he could slam down on the table and say, 'Listen, I know this is good, and I know your concerns about it are meaningless, so go with it.' And I don't think he felt he had that yet ... My problem was that I feared a slippery slope." They took the record to Bob Ludwig for mastering, while at the same time mentioned their issues with the mix to him. Upon completion, Krist Novoselic said he was happy with the result, but Cobain still felt it was not perfect. At this time, Steve Albini gave an interview with the Chicago Tribune, where he doubted whether the record would ever be released. Newsweek would run another article that echoed the comments made by Albini. This caused Nirvana to write a full page letter to the magazine denying the label was putting any undue pressure on them. The same letter would be reproduced as a full page ad in Billboard not long after. The head of Geffen Records, who owned DGC made the unprecedented move of actually calling Newsweek to complain. The band thought about having Andy Wallace remix the release, but once again Albini refused saying they had only agreed to work with him. At the time, the producer also would release any of the tapes that were now in his possession. He only did so after a phone call from Krist Novoselic. The entire album for the most part was not changed at all, except for a remastering. Yet, the producer continually made comments that it was nowhere near the album he recorded in Minnesota. “The record in the stores doesn't sound all that much like the record that was made, though it's still them singing and playing their songs, and the musical quality of it still comes across." He would go on to say that major labels refused to work with him for the next year or so because of In Utero.

As for the music, the producer wanted to go as far away as possible from Nevermind with this record. He felt that the second album made the group look incredibly bad because it had been overproduced at such a level to make it extremely radio friendly. He wanted to create a much more natural sound for the group. The 1993 Nirvana biography, Come As You Are, noted the vision for the band on this record. “The Beatlesque 'Dumb' happily coexists beside the all-out frenzied punk graffiti of 'Milk It,' while 'All Apologies' is worlds away from the apoplectic 'Scentless Apprentice.' It's as if [Cobain] has given up trying to meld his punk and pop instincts into one harmonious whole. Forget it. This is war." If one goes through the track listing, you can count which tracks are over the top punk, and which tracks are more radio friendly pop. The interesting thing is that they correspond equally, 6 to 6. Fans and critics alike would talk about how abrasive In Utero turned out to be, but Cobain and Novoselic really did not see it that way. The bass player had said the band had always had songs as they are found on In Utero. Yet, the group did consciously try to bring fans into the more punk sounding songs by releasing the first two singles that could have realistically been included on Nevermind. Some of the songs found on the record had been written years prior as early as 1990. Cobain used various points of inspiration for the lyrics. The track “Frances Farmer” came from a 1978 biography of the Seattle figure called Shadowland. “Scentless Apprentice” originated from a horror novel that the singer had read by Patrick Suskind. One of the central themes found on the album noted in that same Nirvana biography from 1993 was the fact that every song talked about sickness or disease in some manner. Although Cobain said the lyrics were very impersonal to him, many disagreed with this assessment. Dave Grohl would say this in an interview. “A lot of what he has to say is related to a lot of the shit he's gone through. And it's not so much teen angst anymore. It's a whole different ball game: rock star angst." The singer continued to argue that much of the album had been written years prior to any issues he was going through at the time. For example, “Rape Me” quite possibly could be talking about his frustration with the media in how he has been portrayed over the past couple of years. The track “Serve the Servants” seemed to specifically talk about Cobain’s father and how divorce affected him from a very early age. The Nirvana frontman wanted his father to know that he did not despise him, but he also had no desire to be around him whatsoever. One track, “Gallons of Alcohol Flow Through the Strip,” was actually one of the only improvisational tracks they ever recorded. The song represented a jam session that the group would frequently participate in in during down times at the studio. They had done this quite often, but this would be the first time that it was ever recorded in some form.

Upon its release, the record label took a very low key approach to promoting the album. None of the singles would come out commercially in the United States, as they concentrated all of their press releases at media specializing in alternative music. The band remained convinced that there was absolutely no way that In Utero would sell even a quarter of what Nevermind sold. The record would debut at number one on the charts selling 180,000 copies in its first week. They sold this many copies without big retail chains like Kmart and Walmart selling it because officially the demand was not there. The truth was actually these chains feared backlash due to the graphic nature of the artwork accompanying the album. In March 1994, an edited version of the album would be released with new artwork and alternative song titles. The band made this concession saying they wanted fans who could not go to a traditional record store to be able to purchase the LP. Following the death of Cobain. the third single “Pennyroyal Tea” was canceled, as well as any tour plans. Immediately following his death, the popularity of In Utero on the charts increased by 122% from 72 to 27. The album would eventually be certified five times platinum.

Critics were not unanimous in the praise of In Utero. For the most part, rock writers really liked the new sound from Nirvana. Time’s Christopher John Farley noted that once again perhaps the mainstream may need to go to Nirvana, rather than the other way around. David Browne of Entertainment Weekly emphasized the absolute contrasts on the release. “The music is often mesmerizing, cathartic rock & roll, but it is rock & roll without release, because the band is suspicious of the old-school rock clichés such a release would evoke." David Fricke of Rolling Stone would say that the record was both “brilliant and corrosive,” but undoubtedly a “triumph of the will” for Kurt Cobain. NME’s John Mulvey did not share the same sentiment as he observed the album really was not up to par with previous Nirvana standards. The review from Plugged In did not mince words saying it had absolutely no redeeming value whatsoever. Some reviews became quite bittersweet as you are reminded of Cobain’s suicide. Q said this about the record. "If this is how Cobain is going to develop, the future is lighthouse-bright." Ben Thompson of the Independent merely seemed happy that the record did not represent the punk rock nightmare the group had continually threatened to release. In Utero would go on to top several end of the year lists as one of the best albums including Rolling Stone, Village Voice, and the New York Times. The band would even receive a Grammy nomination in 1994 for Best Alternative Album. As time has passed, critics have lavished even more phrase on it seeing their work with Albini as far superior to Nevermind. Charles R. Cross would write in his Cobain biography, “If it is possible for an album that sold four million copies to be overlooked, or underappreciated, then In Utero is that lost pearl." Pitchfork named it the 13th best album of the 1990s, while it even made Rolling Stone’s list of the 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. NME named it number 35 on its greatest albums of all time list creating quite a sense of irony since the periodical did not think too much of the album at the time of its release.

[kassofchaos]

The Laughing Stock

I had a stroke of inspiration tonight. This might lead to more stories down the line, creating this connected crossover universe, which might be hype.

The looming light of a full moon looms over the concrete jungle of downtown Gotham, the alleys silent and the roads only ringing with the occasional car passing by. 11 PM, most are asleep, and those who remain awake to plot and scheme know to keep their presence low, unless they wish to gather the unshakable attention of the Batman.

Tonight, the Batman did not walk the streets for crime to foil and villains to subdue. Tonight walks Bruce Wayne, billionaire philanthropist and CEO of a myriad companies. Always in the public eye, attending to interview after interview, press meeting after press meeting. These may be his passions, but his major focus remains on his nightly work. Tonight is no difference, despite his not donning the cape.

His red car settles itself in a small parking lot, the door opening with a gentle motion as the well-dressed, young Wayne steps out, beholding before him a small bar. Above its wide doors lies a sign, illuminated with neon.

The Laughing Stock.

He takes a deep breath, straightens out his tie, and walks right on in.

At this hour, there are barely any people out at the small, homely bar, but even at this hour the appeal that drives many to drink here is evident; even someone as rich and pampered as Bruce feels a sense of belonging here. A sense of home, a small place where everyone is a friend to confide in, even the bartender.

The bartender, of course. Dressed in a white t-shirt and blue jeans, and a small, brown jacket atop that. His brown hair slicked backward, a set of large round glasses sitting crookedly atop his pointed nose. Upon hearing the door open, the bartender's attention turns to Bruce, and a wide grin adorns his face.

That smile. That damn smile.... even seeing it now after so long... dredges up memories.

"Bruce Wayne! My good friend, how goes it today?" Walking out from behind the counter, the bartender welcomes his good friend with a warm smile, a hug and a pat on the back. From here, it becomes easier for Bruce to read his crooked, rusty-gold nametag.

Jack Napier.

Bruce wills his throat into speaking, his voice particularly scratchy today. "Settle down, Jack. The usual, please."

As always, Jack is already ahead of him. He nods, giving Bruce another steady pat before headed back to the counter, getting to work on his friend's order as Bruce passes him the necessary payment, down to the exact cents.

With some time of reprieve, Bruce sighs out in relief, looking around to get a good look at who's sticking around. Nothing but a few couples of people to the far left of the seating area, none sitting just at the counter. Bruce takes the honor of seating at the counter, his eyes wandering up to the TV above. A news report, "Godzilla spotted near Metropolis". He rolls his eyes; the public puts too much focus on this kind of thing.

Within seconds after looking away from the TV, his eyes focus on the drink served before him. He gives it a good look, then looks up at Jack. He gets a shrug and a chuckle for his troubles.

"This isn't your usual, I know... I have a hunch you'd prefer this today. It's on me, Brucey, don't worry."

One step ahead of the game. Bruce looks over his drink again; just by giving it a glance he identifies it as a Royal Flush Tonic, something much more laid back than his usual... something he'd truly prefer today given the long day of stress under the public eye. He looks back up at Jack as he takes a seat right beside him; that level of intuition is what makes him an indispensable ally, and what made him a dreaded nemesis.

"So..." Jack breaks the ice, speaking at a lower, more hushed tone than usual. Time for what Bruce is here for. "... what is it this time?"

Bruce responds immediately, dropping his volume as well. "I've picked up the scent of someone new. A case concerning Dr. Animo, I noticed a pattern. Several of his past projects tie back to Gotham. He's collaborated with you several times-"

"I could never really get along with the guy, but I have to hand it to him that he's incredibly well-ordered."

Bruce sighs. Jack always seems to interrupt, but never out of an attempt to annoy. He might be a bit of a chatterbox, but he's one of wisdom.

"I discovered a pattern in his projects here at Gotham; all during December or June. Then I looked to his other crimes. Seattle always during October, Bellwood during May and August. So on and so forth... these are planned deeper than I thought."

"Calendar Man, then?"

"I've already given him an... interview."

Jack cringes just a little, the memories of the many "interviews" he was subjected to by the Batman coming back to him. "Yeugh... poor guy.."

"I didn't have to go that far, he caved like that." *Bruce snaps his fingers, looking around to make sure he isn't being listened to. Coast is clear. "He gave me a name. The Designer."

A solid few seconds of silence waft the bar, Bruce giving Jack a judgmental gaze.

"The Designer?" He crosses his arms, furrowing his brow as he tries to remember. The name... it sounds so vaguely familiar, but not so much as a tinge of memory returns. He shrugs. "Sorry, Brucey... I think I'm stumped. Someone new, I think."

"Someone new... you don't have a thing on this guy?"

"Only what you've told me, I'm afraid."

"I... should be off, then." Bruce stands himself back up, picking his drink up to take along with him. "Thanks anyway, Jack, you're a real help." A soft smile adorns the billionaire's lips.

"Not a problem, Bruce." He gives his friend one last pat on the back, and one last parting gift. "I'd be on the lookout there.... these set dates.. whoever planned this might be waiting to flip the shits on you when you aren't expecting it."

Bruce stops for a second, taking that into consideration. Of course, anyone who lets a plan be this obvious to find out is probably waiting to subvert it.

"Have a good night, Jack. I'll be in touch." He waves goodbye to the barkeep, turning and walking off to return to his car.

"I'm sure you will!" Jack laughs, his cackle rekindling old memories for the detective. That smile... that laugh.... it's a good thing he's on our side.

[ifyouvegotthemoneyhoney]

Sunset Love ch. 1: Roomies

"Fuck! This stuff weighs a fucking ton," grunted Duff, shoving the bass drum into place at the back of the room. Steven twisted the screws on the hi-hat and gave it a little roll with his fingers. A pleased grin crossed his face.

"That's me all set up," he said, throwing himself onto his stool and spinning his sticks in the air. Izzy scowled as he bent to plug in his Marshall amp.

"At least this place has fucking electricity," he grumbled. He threw his guitar strap over his head and banged out a few chords. He grimaced and crouched down at the amp. "Yeah, the sound in here blows."

Duff was picking out rumbling notes on his bass, his head to one side. "Hey, this place is costing us four Benjamins a month," he replied. "Let's appreciate it, yeah?" He looked across the room as someone came in. "Speaking of which, you gonna get me your share of that, Axl, yeah?"

Axl had his head down, hands in pockets, sheets of red hair shielding his face as he kicked a lump of concrete on the floor.

"Yeah, sure, man," he replied absent-mindedly after a moment. He looked up, sweeping his hair back out of his eyes. He surveyed the room and pursed his lips. "It sure ain't the Sunset Hyatt," he said moodily.

Duff rolled his eyes and stretched out his arms. "What's with you guys, pissin' and fussin'?" he demanded. "We had to twist the guy's arm to even let us have it. Quit bitchin' and let's do what we're here to do."

The others mumbled assent and continued setting up. Electric twangs, beats and thumps filled the space, disappearing into the bare-brick walls.

"Where's Slash?" asked someone.

"He's here," said Slash, who had just dashed in the metal door. He stomped across to the other side of the room from Izzy and set down his guitar case and amp. "What'd I miss?"

He looked around at the other four. "Hey, Axl, you still got no PA?"

Axl was mooching in a corner, hands still in his pockets, whistling scraps of tunes. "Fuck you," he shot back, "You know I don't."

"Right, so, how we gonna hear you?"

"Guess you'll have to stand right up next to me if you wanna hear me," said Axl in his smooth, deep voice, tilting his chin at Slash. The others watched warily. Axl may have been small and skinny, but they knew his temper, and his fists.

Slash said nothing. Guitar on, he strummed out the opening chords of the new song they were working on. Like the others, he grimaced at the awful acoustics in the room, then grinned.

He was playing it cool, as always, but Slash was psyched that they finally had a place of their own to rehearse, day and night, whenever they wanted. This was going to take the band to the next level, he thought. The level where they could get a whole set down and really start pushing to play the clubs on Sunset, and beyond. He already had an idea in his head for their band logo. Two guns, their handles intertwined with two thorny roses.

"We ready?" came Axl's voice, cutting through his thoughts. Duff gave the nod to Steven, who clapped his sticks together, and they were off.

***

They played until they were too hungry and tired to go on.

"I'm outta here," called Duff, swinging off his guitar. "I promised Mandy I'd take her to the Rainbow tonight. Who's coming?"

Steven was already up from his drum kit and at Duff's side. Izzy mumbled about having to go see someone and was gone. Duff looked from Axl to Slash, then laughed.

"Right. You guys live here." He was grinning madly. "So this is like, your first night in your new home? Like a house-warming?"

"Fuck off," muttered Slash through a cloud of smoke and turned towards his amp. Axl said nothing, just lit his own cigarette and blew out a long lungful, staring at the wall. For a moment Duff thought he caught something of what Axl was thinking. Duff knew he sometimes slept rough around West Hollywood: stairwells, doorways. This place was a roof over his head.

"Just fuckin' with ya," said Duff easily. "See you guys tomorrow sometime."

He and Steven stepped out into the alley and left into Gardner Street, the thrill of their new rehearsal space putting a spring in their step as they headed towards Sunset Boulevard.

There was silence in the room for a while as Slash and Axl smoked, perching on amps, looking around at the place that was newly theirs: four bare cinder block walls and a sheet metal roof. It was storage space, advertised as such; they hadn't exactly made it clear to the owner that they were a rock band intending to rehearse. The guy had made a big deal out of the fact that there were electricity sockets and a shared toilet in the lot.

The floor was bare concrete. The drum kit and guitars looked odd, standing around unused. It was 10 P.M. on an August evening, the sun had gone down and the day's heat was seeping out of the walls. The reality of their situation was beginning to dawn.

"Guess we shoulda got ... mattresses or something," said Axl, looking around.

Slash chuckled, nodding. "Yeahhh," he drawled. He reached over to a paper bag by the wall and pulled out a familiar brown bottle.

"'Least we got our friend Jack to keep us company."

Axl looked up at Slash and smiled slowly.

Slash busied himself popping the lid, taking a swig and handing it over. He felt suddenly weird - was he embarrassed, shy? It was true that he and Axl hadn't spent a lot of time together since Axl moved out of Slash's mom's house a while back. But that smile of Axl's - it looked like it had been more than just a casual facial expression. Or was he imagining things?

Slash knocked back more of the Jack, passing it back and forth to Axl. It did its magic, as usual - with every swig, the awkwardness he felt faded. He knew that many people drank to feel different, to feel less like themselves. He did it to feel less awkward, more sociable - more like himself.

Fortunately, Axl was a good talker. It never took much to set him off on one of his long, rambling musings about life, music, art, whatever he was digging at the moment. Slash provided nods and comments here and there as that voice filled the small space.

What a voice, he thought. Many singers he knew had speaking voices that didn't resemble their singing at all. Axl was different. When he spoke, the tones were just as smooth and deep as when he sang. Thoughts of thick caramel and warm, melting chocolate came into Slash's mind. He found himself trying not to stare too long at Axl's face, especially his lips as they moved. He noted their feminine curves and their natural pout.

Suddenly Slash realised what he was thinking and was annoyed with himself. What was he, a fucking fag? He took another gulp. It must be the whisky. He shivered.

"Yeah, it's getting fucking cold, man," said Axl. He cast around the room and squinted into a corner where Duff had propped his bass. "Hey - what we got here," said Axl, jumping to his feet and picking something up from the floor. He held it up. It was Duff's voluminous red and black leather trench coat. He had brought it from Seattle and thought it was the coolest thing ever.

Axl spread the coat down on the floor by the wall and lay down. He closed his eyes and appeared to be going to sleep.

Slash seized up with awkwardness again. He drained the last drop from the bottle.

"Sure as hell beats the fucking Tower Video stairwell," said Axl with closed eyes.

Slash said nothing.

"You going to sleep or what?" said Axl.

Slash got up and flicked off the light. He moved warily in the dark towards where Axl lay. He crouched down and clumsily stretched himself out on the leather coat, leaving as much space as possible between himself and Axl.

"Night, fucker," came Axl's voice, sounding half-asleep already.

"Fuck you," fired back Slash, turning onto his side, away from the other man.

It might have been better than a stairwell but it was still fucking uncomfortable. Slash dozed fitfully, turning to one side then the other against the concrete, his drunken mind filled with disturbing half-dreams. At one point, God knows what time, he jerked awake as he felt something heavy on his chest. He gradually realised it was Axl's arm.

The other man appeared to be sleeping deeply, his steady breathing coming through his nose.

Slash froze. He clenched his teeth in anger. We fucking agreed this wouldn't happen again, he thought.

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[humanrightsupdates]

USA: Law enforcement violated Black Lives Matter protesters’ human rights, documents acts of police violence and excessive Force

Amnesty International USA Recorded 125 Separate Incidents of Police Violence Against Protesters, Medics, Journalists and Legal Observers in 40 States and D.C. During May and June Protests

The Report Chronicles the Stories of More Than 50 People Affected by Police Violence as Black Lives Matter Grows Into the Largest Social Movement in U.S. History

Today, Amnesty International USA released a report documenting widespread and egregious human rights violations by police officers against protesters, medics, journalists and legal observers who gathered to protest the unlawful killings of Black people by the police and to call for systemic reform in May and June of 2020. The report, The World is Watching: Mass Violations by US Police of Black Lives Matter Protesters’ Rights, builds on Amnesty’s interactive mapping of violence against protesters and new findings on the use of lethal force by the police. It is the most comprehensive human rights analysis of police violence against protesters to date.  

The research consisted of more than 50 interviews conducted by AIUSA over several weeks in June 2020 highlighting people’s experiences in the context of the protests sparked by the killing of George Floyd. It also offers recommendations for local, state and federal law enforcement agencies, government officials and Congress to comply with AIUSA’s best practices for policing protests; hold law enforcement accountable for human rights violations against protesters, journalists, medics and legal observers; and pass laws and policies to ensure the right to peacefully protest.

“The unnecessary and sometimes excessive use of force by police against protesters exhibits the very systemic racism and impunity they had taken to the streets to protest. The research shows that people who were simply exercising their human right to peacefully protest were met with such violence that they lost eyesight, survived brutal beatings, and suffered seizures and severe wounds,” said Ernest Coverson, Amnesty International USA’s End Gun Violence Campaign Manager.

“The Trump administration is now doubling down on military-style crackdowns against protesters, with Attorney General William Barr’s egregious defense of the use of federal troops in Portland and threats to deploy more agents to other cities. President Trump’s actions represent a slippery slope toward authoritarianism and must immediately stop. We need the country’s approach to the policing of protests to be changed from the ground up at the local, state, and federal levels,” said Justin Mazzola, a researcher at Amnesty International USA.

Intensive care nurse Danielle Meehan, who treated 26 year-old student Aubreanna Inda after she was hit in the chest with a flash grenade in Seattle:  At one point, Aubreanna Inda told her, “I feel like I am dying.” Danielle Meehan explained, “[She] lost her pulse 3-4 times after my medic partners and I started treating her. We resuscitated her each time with [cardiopulmonary resuscitation].”

Rabbinical student and protester Lizzie Horne recounted after the authorities pepper sprayed and tear gassed her and a large group of protesters who were trapped on an embankment of a highway in Philadelphia: “Out of the blue, they started breezing pepper spray into the crowd...then they started with the tear gas. Someone who was right in front --  had a tear gas canister hit his head and started running back. We were trying to help him, flushing his eyes and then he just fainted and started having a seizure.”

17 year-old Elena Thoman, who was tear gassed by the police in Denver, told AIUSA researchers: “At first it feels like the feeling when you’re chopping onions and then escalates to the point where your skin is burning...I had a lot of open skin and it was burning for an hour. It made me cough a lot -- I had to take my mask off because the mask had tear gas in it...so even though there is COVID, I had to take my mask off.”

NBC News photojournalist Ed Ou, after he and other journalists were attacked by police officers in Minneapolis: “They had enough time to shake the pepper spray and to spray it, despite me and others shouting, ‘Press, press,’ continually.” The group was corralled back into a dead end with nowhere to escape as the officers used batons to beat them and discharged grenades, tear gas, and pepper spray on them. His head was bleeding. Despite his repeatedly asking for help, several law enforcement officers walked past him offering no assistance. Ed Ou was treated at a nearby hospital, requiring four stitches for his head injury. “I’ve literally spent most of my career in places where being a journalist was something I had to hide and something I had to be careful about sharing. And this is one place where I should be able to proclaim this is what I do.”

Legal observer Jack*, who was beaten by the police in Chicago: “Three to four more officers who were behind me pulled me up onto a concrete barrier and threw me over onto a wheelchair ramp. I landed on my back and lost my hat. I was looking around when three or four other officers started hitting me with batons. Another protester tried to stop the police, and they started hitting him. People were yelling ‘legal observer’ as it was happening. I was crouched, trying to protect myself, and telling them, ‘I’m not resisting, I’m not resisting.’” - Amnesty International

[american-satanxx]

Rebel Love Song//Chapter 3

Author’s note: Let me know if you are interested in being on the tag list. I’m also accepting requests for certain fandoms. Send me a message and maybe I’ll do it!

Masterpost

another misfit kid, another burned-out town

Later that night, I find myself leaning up against the brick wall of the building with a cigarette between my lips. I’m currently on my much needed break from the bar. It’s been crazy tonight. This Motley Crue band must have a pretty serious following. Or maybe the girls of L.A just find the lead singer hot. He’s the only one I got a great look of and honestly; he doesn’t do it for me.

As I’m finishing up my cigarette, the band entrance's door swings up. A man that’s extremely tall and skinny comes out. He’d struggling to light his cigarette thanks to a faulty lighter. I whistle to get his attention before tossing him my lucky white Bic lighter. He smiles in thanks before lighting his cigarette. “Thanks.” He tells me before tossing me the lighter back. “I was struggling with that lighter all day. I was beginning to think the world was telling me to quit.” “You probably should. It’s not healthy.” I say as I take the final drag of my cigarette.” “You’re one to talk.” He laughs before taking another drag of his cigarette. “You’re too pretty to be smoking, you know that right?” “There are worse vices I could have.” I shrug before tossing the butt of the cigarette on the concrete, crushing it with the toe of my boot. “I’ve lived in L.A for almost six months and I only smoke cigarettes and drink alcohol; I’d consider this a win in my book.” “Where you originally from?” “Seattle.” “No way, our bass player lived there for a bit.” He excitedly says. “Nikki moved down here a few years ago to start a band. Maybe you know him.” “I can assure you all the Nikki’s I know are females and are knocked up by their high school sweethearts.” I chuckle as Raquel appears at the door. “Hey Core, Devon says your break is over with.” She says rolling her eyes. “Apparently you’re needed backstage. The band harassed Megan enough that she upped and quit.” I turn to the man closest to me and he has the most angelic look to him. “How much of an asshole are you and your bandmates? You made a poor girl quit her job.”

“I’m Tommy and I can promise you, I’m an angel.” He says introducing himself. “Nikki and Vince are the assholes; mainly Vince. And he’s not an asshole per say, he’s a flirt.” “Sexual harassment isn’t something to joke about.” Raquel speaks up. “Megan was a good friend of ours. And if you as much as lay a finger on my girl Corey here, I’ll gut you. Got it.” Tommy looks scared and well, he should me. “Tell Devon I’ll be there in a minute okay?” I ask the dancer in front of me. She nods before disappearing inside. “Corey isn’t your typical girls’ name.” Tommy notes. “I like it.” “My biological dad really wanted a son.” A humorless chuckle escapes my lips. “I’m giving you a fair warning now. If any of your band mates decide to lay their slimy paws on me, they’ll be a vegetable. Got it?” “You’re quite sexy when you’re angry.” He smirks. “But I got it.” “I’ll see you inside then, Drummer?” “How do you know I’m a drummer?” He yells towards me. “I have my ways…” I yell back before disappearing into the building. ** “You owe me.” I tell Devon before downing the shot of Jack Daniels he had poured for a client. Before he could yell at me, I head backstage where I see another girl trying to man the backstage bar. Just as I dismiss her (before the tears start flowing), the lead singer swaggers up towards me. “Why hello.” He gives me his best smile. “You come here to replace whatshername.” “Her name was Megan, the girl that quit because you’re a fucking jackass.” I sneer. “She was also a friend and you made her cry. You do not want to see what happens when people make my friends cry. So if you want to be able to reproduce, I highly suggest you order a drink or fuck off.” The groupies were silent. But his bandmates, from wherever they were, clapped and cheered. The smirk on the singer’s lips grew into an appreciative smirk. “I’m Vince.” “Corey.” I smile. “What can I get you Vince? And do not say my number.” “Jack and Coke.” He replies. “And before you fill my drink order, come on and let’s meet every one.” He’s nice and it feels like a trap. First person he introduces me to was the guitarist, Mick. He was quiet and scary. It was as if he was always here and always judging you. He gave me the creeps, not going to lie. But deep down, I feel as though, Mick is someone you want to have in your corner. He may be doom and gloom, but he seems like a good friend...deep down. “And this guy I’m about to introduce you to is the whole fucking reason why were are together.” Vince tells me as we approach the raven haired many with the redhead and blonde on his arms. “Nikki, you need to meet the new bartender. You’re going to love her.” Nikki turns around and our eyes instantly lock. He may not look the same. But I know those hazel eyes from anywhere. “Corey?” He asks in disbelief. “Frankie?”

[yeats-infection]

At least a year ago you made a post talking about inspiration behind a lot of your In The Garden/ Minuet OC’s. I have been scouring your tumblr trying to find it but I just can’t! Could you possibly link it again? Thank you for writing the most beautiful things that have haunted me for years in the best way.

hi! and thank you for being interested and invested in the story and characters... this is a post from a few years ago where someone asked me for a fan cast of everybody from in the garden... but this is more a vague idea of what they all look like, not really the inspiration behind them! which i will go into under the cut below.

this is also a recent little piece i wrote with them that hasn’t been getting a lot of love if you would like to check it out! 

jack and ras sort of arrived when i was listening to the libertines a lot and digging into all the Lore. they are also inspired a little by brad and lockett from deerhunter. their first meeting is basically the bradford and lockett brideshead revisited AU. they are not quite one-to-one to either real duo, they really became characters on their own in a way that is still moving and surprising to me. all we know about ras from canon is that he can maybe be mistaken for sirius, so that is another kind of lens on his character. 

imani and flora are inspired by carrie and corin from sleater-kinney if they never broke up. imani is named after a woman i took an american literature class with in junior year of college who was one of the coolest and most intelligent people i’ve ever known. 

the characters from minuet are a little more all-over-the-place. as i’ve said before wray is most concretely based on a real person, my old friend cameron... (who is still with us though i didn’t know that for sure when i first came up with wray). wray is also every great seattle musician who died young. of all of the characters he is closest to kurt cobain. 

graeme is really some unholy melange of graham coxon (blur), britt walford (slint), and mike mills (R.E.M.), who funnily enough all kind of look similar. he has a effusive personality that belies the secret kind of gloom to his spirit. his life trajectory comes from britt who went to the u.k. to record pod with the breeders before he was 20 years old. his name and his drinking problem and plenty of other things come from graham... the way he thinks about music comes from mike... that he is a musical genius but kind of flippant and self-sabotaging about his talent comes from all three in its own way

this picture of kristin pfaff (also the inspiration for lockett’s last name) made me think of alex when i was first imagining her. elisa ambrogio from magik markers is also part of alex. because she is an indigenous woman noise musician and songwriter who has a kind of motivating anger and a lot of secret pent-up feelings she also has some of tanya tagaq and buffy sainte marie. 

mercedes and marsden are not really based on anyone in particular. marsden is named after the painter marsden hartley (i’ve always liked that name). it’s important to me to have a trans character in a story about punk music because trans people make some of the best punk music. 

lockett is named after lockett from deerhunter obviously, though i forget why... i think the first thing i knew about him was that he was a loyal friend but kind of a pushover who will put up with a lot in exchange for being seen. there is also some of rowland s. howard in him. he’s from idaho because of the most beautiful driving day of my life, in early march 2014 going from pullman to boise. the existence of lockett as a character has made the story what it is... i had to redo a lot of my early ideas to get him in as he was supposed to be. it is really his character that keeps moving the story for me. sometimes he is most difficult because he is the most like me. writing him requires painful levels of self analysis, lol. i love the idea of a character who is in with the Bad Guy but ends up on our team. he is really a distillation of the inland northwest into a person. 

i hope this is helpful and i’m not really leaving anybody out! i do hope i can finish the next piece by the end of this year!