#did jess steal something valuable? probably

[mcntalism-archived]

@surejess​—

"I—goddamn it, caught your set, Turner. Surprise you hadn’t made a crack about me yet.” She’s chasing Jess through rooftops, swinging from building to building. “Trying to steal shit that isn’t yours might be a bad topic for your next act, though.”

[lambourngb]

Why can’t I change

The irony is, you inspired this story. You posted a ficlet about Michael and Max going out to distract themselves from the pain of being separated from their soulmates...  and this hit me hard:

Max is drinking too much tonight.  This is a good bar – Michael’s actually been in here before.  Twice.  Both times over the last few months, since Alex and Forrest… yeah.  He’s left with guys, both times. He’s… he’s trying to figure some stuff out, with himself.  What he likes.  What he wants, outside of Alex.  Um, and hopefully, eventually, with Alex. It’s been… fine. Fun.  Light.  Uncomplicated.  Pretty much everything the rest of his life isn’t right now.

So I started writing a fic where Michael is exploring things about himself, dating and figuring out what he wants, while he lingers in that “hopefully eventually” feeling in place. Of course, dating is hell, and especially it’s hell when there is so much about Michael that is hard to explain to someone- not just the alien parts, but his genius IQ, his “adopted” siblings, his past in social services, no parents, etc. Then the awkwardness of how he can’t stop from watching Alex whenever their paths cross.

SNIPPET :

It started innocently enough like most of Michael’s life-ruining decisions, during a beer break from his newly re-established lab bunker. 

“Alright, worst date you’ve ever been on, and go!”  Charlie started, taking a long pull of her IPA, before sending a look over to Michael. “You win on the most embarrassing sibling, Guerin, someone needs to teach your sister to knock, but I bet I have you beat on bad dates.”

So five minutes after she had decided to stay in Roswell, Charlie Cameron had ended up tracking down Michael at Sanders, and opened the conversation unceremoniously with, “So aliens are real and I’m guessing you’re one. Consider me the newest member of your Scooby Gang and tell me everything.” He had dropped a heavy wrench on his boot, pain stealing his voice for a moment. Perhaps there was a man out there that was able to resist the no-nonsense stare of a Cameron woman, but that wasn’t Michael, or even Max for that matter.

And that was that, one more person in on the second biggest secret Michael held (he was still in love with Alex being number one). It came with it’s own valuable reveals, finding out from Charlie that although Helena Ortecho had covered her tracks with the group as a red herring for Flint’s sake, Deep Sky was a very real paramilitary group and they were the source of the depowering serum that Helena had used on Michael to keep him compliant.

So ten minutes after catching her up on all things ridiculous and real in Roswell, New Mexico, Charlie had raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at him and drawled lazily, “Any plans to combat that drug, or are you just going to hope that the next time it’s another benign manipulator? Because the way I see it, I’m a genius biochemist, and you’re a genius period, maybe we can do better than blind hope?”

Whether it was hubris at play to see if it was even possible, or a renewed determination to just fuck up whatever military sponsored plot that was in play, Charlie Cameron signed on to research an antidote to the depowering serum and in the process had become Michael’s newest, and surprisingly easiest, friend to have. 

It was strange but Michael was starting to number his friends beyond just Max, Isobel and the currently absent Liz Ortecho. He could begrudgingly add Kyle Valenti to the list, now that Max had come clean with everyone over his heart condition. Although it was exceedingly awkward at times in the wake of their breakup, Maria was trying for friendship with him and it probably said something about them that they fell into that rhythm much easier than he had with Alex. 

On paper he could consider Alex his friend. They shared beers together at neutral locations, there was always a conversation to linger over with coffee, and finally, Michael was the person Alex called now, every time he was scheduled to go out of town for work. That was less friendship, and more of a coping mechanism for them both after his abduction by Jesse then Helena. 

It meant that Charlie Cameron had won the contest of easiest friend probably by default, but that didn’t make being the target of her knife-sharp sense of humor any easier to deflect when she smelled blood in the water. Thinking about his past, he knew that any conversation about dating was sure to leave him bleeding out.

Michael eyed the open hatch of the bunker lab, wondering if the spanse of time they had spent in the open air was enough for Charlie to nip this conversation to a close and return to the task of experimentation. Long periods of time in solitary confinement in a military prison had left her with a dislike of closed spaces, and it didn’t matter what sort of faux-Restoration Hardware light fixture he hung from the ceiling of his bunker; the walls would start closing in on her after two  hours or so of work.  

“You win this round, okay?” 

“Come on, no bowing out. I told you about the ‘bring your child to work day’ my father suffered through with his conservative asshat co-workers, you can tell me about your worst date.”

“I haven’t dated enough to have a bad one, okay?” Michael admitted, looking away. There was no way he was going to talk about the drive in charity benefit with Alex, when he couldn’t be legitimately sure that it was even a date. Did sharing a six-pack on his tailgate even count? The way that night had ended was better off forgotten. Then there was Maria, where drinks at her bar had started as the natural postscript to an evening together. Did that count? He remembered bargaining with debts to arrange a dinner with Chinese food, that had been postponed almost indefinitely after her visions took center stage. 

“Bullshit! Almost the second thing my sister told me about you was to be careful I didn’t end up in your bed.”

Michael ducked his head with an acknowledged wince. Well, Jenna Cameron did have a front-row seat during most of his questionable decisions regarding women and his poor restraint when it came to a certain brand of asshole at the Wild Pony. When he ran across men who reminded him of Foster Dad #5 who thought respect could be beaten into Michael, or men who were like Foster Dad 3 who kept his wife nervously popping pills for her nerves and caked in pancake makeup most Sunday mornings. Some people just needed punching. Michael was always happy to be the one doing it if someone gave him reason to and drunk assholes often did.

He tipped the bottle back to drain the last swallow of nearly flat beer to buy some time as he thought about what to say next. There was little hope of escape, Charlie had the mind of a scientist, sharp and inquisitive and ready to press for more answers. “I’m no virgin, that’s for sure. But that was mainly sex.” He shrugged, dropping the empty into his trash barrel. “From all the movies Izzy makes me watch with her, I gather going on a date is something of a higher tier than a one-off in my truck after last call.”

“What about with Mr. Complicated?” Charlie’s smile was closer to a smirk. Michael revised his assessment of her, from scientist to sadist. 

“More than a one-off in my truck,” Michael agreed quietly. “Everything else was why it was complicated. And no, I don’t really want to talk about it, just to say, I have no stories about lost entrées at dinner or suddenly being a part of someone’s wedding reception with him.” 

Instead of pressing the knife deeper into him with more questions about Alex, Charlie backed off with a mixed expression. Shit that was pity on her face, wasn’t it? God, it really was a sad story, his relationship with Alex and his life currently, Michael thought. Charlie, who had spent time in the last couple of years in a military prison and was actively evading a paramilitary group interested in her research, actually pitied his life. 

“You’re trying to tell me you’re thirty years old, and you don’t have a single dating story to share?” She shook her head giving a sarcastic *bzzz* sound with her lips. “I don’t buy it. What about the hot bartender you were with last year?”

“You ever try to date someone who works in a bar? Her work hours were prime recreational hours. Who wants to go see a movie after last call and closing the till? You especially don’t want to go to another bar during off hours.” Michael pointed out. “Anyway, we kept it low-key. I cooked. Or we had drinks at the Pony. I dunno, life kept getting in the way of anything more.” 

“That’s just sad.”

Michael placed his hand against his chest, “Ouch, don’t hold back!”

Charlie straightened up from where she was sitting, on the steps of the old school bus to get to her feet. “Okay you’ve basically described two relationships with feelings, but I’m talking about something different. You swipe right on someone, trade messages, ghost them when they are creepy, you’ve never done any of that? No one has ever slipped their number to you when you’ve gone out with friends?”

“I just told you, those were just one-offs in my truck.”

“Oh my god, give me your phone, we’re downloading some apps.”

[mattzerella-sticks]

Desperation, Baby! (coda to 15x19 “Inherit the Earth”, Dean & Lucifer, Dean/Cas, 2.3k, T)

ao3 link

Death took her sweet time parsing through Chuck's book, meaning Lucifer spent longer than he'd like surrounded by his former vessel, his brother, his son, and a man whose obvious longing made him want to vomit. Instead of returning with his prize, Chuck welcoming him back, he must waste his valuable time playing 'nice; with those he can't stand.

Not that it matters. They don't trust him, each member of this ragtag group of survivors watching Lucifer in shifts. Never leaving him alone.

It's Dean's turn now, and he's driving Lucifer up a wall by doing nothing at all save for broadcasting a never-ending supply of feeling. Can he cut the signal without showing his hand, or put Dean's heart to good use?

           It’s pathetic, truly. Lucifer huffs, deflating, sinking further into his seat. Weighed down by obscene amounts of longing that poured freely off Dean like a broken hydrant. Funneled into his awareness because its usual drain was cordoned forever. It flooded these now silent angelic air waves, Lucifer growing more annoyed with each, excruciating second. Until, finally, “Holy hell, can you please quit it?”

           Dean startles from where he stood, jaw tensing. Mouth flattening in a thin line as he glares, “What?”

           “Quit. It. Quitit!” He hisses, leaning forward. Stretches his arms across the table, reaching for Dean. Fingers twitching, Lucifer imagines Dean’s neck between them. “Seriously, you’re giving me a migraine with all your feelings.”

           “Good.” Dean surprises Lucifer with his response. No attempted denial, nor misdirection. His gaze unflinchingly pierced through Lucifer’s vessel, pride bolstering its blow. Lucifer cannot detect any shame that usually clings to his soul, none of that smell lingering. He’s grown since they’ve last seen each other. Stunning character development. “Deserve it, after that dick move you pulled earlier.”

           “You still upset about that?” Scoffing, Lucifer rises. Meanders across the room towards Dean, gaze never straying. Easy since it’s only them. “I thought my gift would have more than made up for that.” He grins, rocking on his heels. A breadth of space separates them now. “How else was I supposed to get in, anyway?” he continues, “Not like if I called as myself you’d’ve rolled out the welcome mat.”

           “But… Cas?” Lucifer savors the taste of his brother’s name, drenched in sadness. Ripped from Dean’s heart in a barely controlled sob.

           “Nasty habit,” he giggles, “Though the results speak for themselves. I mean – you know how easy it was smooth-talking little Sammy when I looked like his ol’ flame, Jess?” Dean doesn’t laugh, snarled lip suffocating Lucifer’s airy mirth. “You’re no fun.”

           “Sorry,” Dean growls, “why don’t you try later when the world’s not ending.”

           “It’s always ending. In one way or another.” Lucifer waves his hand and a chair drags itself over. He straddles it, gazing up at Dean. “If we waited for peace to enjoy life, there’d be no time. Better to… say what’s in your heart, even if it kills you.” He frowns, mockingly, “Or in Castiel’s case… did kill him.”

           Dean slams his fist against the wall. “You have no right –“

           “Timeout there,” Lucifer smirks, eyes glowing red. Reflection of Dean’s entire face, blood rapidly swelling his cheeks. “Don’t want to do anything you’ll regret…” He holds Dean there, frozen, waits until the other man seems calm. Dips his head, tries catching Dean’s gaze. “If I let you go, will you behave?” Dean remains silent, yet Lucifer hears him. Tunes into his frequency, actively sifting through his frenzied emotions. “Seriously,” he lets Dean go, hunter falling on his ass, “how are we supposed to work as a team if you’re not willing to cooperate?”

           “This… isn’t a team,” Dean spits, “you’re working… with the Empty.”

           “And the Empty’s trying to take Chuck out!” he argues, “So, enemy of my enemy is my friend or all that nonsense –“

           “Go to hell.”

           “I wish I could, but I’m kinda on a short leash.” Bored with Dean’s resistance, Lucifer threads his next few words with seriousness. “Listen, once Betty’s done with the book I’ll flit on out of here and one, two, three – humanity is saved from dear, ol’ dad! We can make this all painless if you’d just trust me, or we can keep doing what we’re doing. I, personally, am tired of this bullshit. Rather be napping back in the Empty, but no…”

           “You should be.”

           “Beg pardon?”

           Dean bares his teeth, roiling hatred knocking Lucifer back a few inches. “You should still be sleeping, back there,” he says, “if anyone were supposed to come back, it’d be Cas. Not… you…”

           “Ah, Castiel, yes…” Lucifer sighs, “that would make sense, wouldn’t it? Of course, he lacks my raw power and charm, but… yes, you’d trust anything that he said.” Hand on his throat, he affects his vocal cords. Mimicking the other angel’s gravelly tone again, “Dean, please go along with Lucifer’s wishes and help him –“

           “Enough!” Dean kicks at a chair leg, interrupting Lucifer. Tears threaten to pour, dangling from his lashes like morning dew. “If you really wanna play nice, you’d stop doing that.”

           “This is nice, buddy.” Lucifer pokes at Dean’s leg with the toe of his boot. “Why don’t you grow some thick skin, huh? Where’s the real Dean Winchester? That tough guy with endless bravado instead of this sad, sorry piece of shit that’s pining after some dead guy?”

           Dean turns, Adam’s apple bobbing. “That isn’t me. I… he never was.” An intimate confession whispered into ancient brickwork. Meaningful for a different crowd. Except Lucifer shows little care, sarcastic clapping shattering Dean’s moment.

           “Wow, Dean… really fantastic. Amazing!” He climbs off the chair, crouching closer. Tongue dragged over his lips, smile wide. “Your verbose diction astounds me… did you whip that together after my brother got dragged into super hell? Are you still workshopping it – okay if I give you a few notes?” Lucifer pinches Dean’s cheek, poking this rabid grizzly. “At least you’ve got that face. Clearly Cas didn’t fall for your emotional maturity, your observational prowess or timing…”

           He weakly bats Lucifer off him, “You don’t know anything…”

           “I think I know quite a lot,” Lucifer challenges him, “Between the both of us, only I managed to slip inside my tight-ass little brother. Probably why I knew all his little… perversions, although it was clear as day how he felt about you to everyone – well… almost everyone.” His hand settles on Dean’s chest, atop his heart. “Do you know amazing it was, when I slipped my blade through him? You were a buffet that night… fear, relief, hope… despair. I could’ve ended him in that other dimension, but I waited until he crossed back. Knew how much more painful it’d be.”

           “Monster,” Dean says, “Fucking psychopath.”

           “The old me, maybe.” Lucifer teleports, sitting on a nearby table. Legs absentmindedly pedaling, stirring confusion within Dean. “But I’ve been reborn on the right side, Dean. Nobler. I’ve got purpose.”

           “You’ve got a load of shit,” he accuses, standing on shaky legs, “that you’re trying to sell me. Us.”

           “Come on!” Lucifer groans, hands flying skyward, “Isn’t this supposed to be your eleventh hour? How can you be so stubborn? Here I come, with a Hail Mary, and you’re turning your nose up at me like some snob. Like you have better options waiting. All because you won’t work with the Empty –“

           “It’s not just that,” Dean corrects him, “I also don’t want to work with you.”

           He crosses his arms, pouting. “You’re gonna have to suck that up. So the Empty wouldn’t send your boytoy, do you blame them? For a broken, little thing he sure is popular. Who’s to say Cas’d come back once this all wraps up? At least the Empty trusts me.”

           “I guess something has to.”

           “You can, too, if you want.” Lucifer casts his reel wide, waiting. Eyebrows waggling like baited worms. “It’d be a hell lot easier than what you’re doing now. Come on…” he needles, “why is it so hard to believe in miracles?”

           “Please…” Dean says, hiding his face behind his knees. Arms circled around his legs, curled into a ball. “Stop talking.”

           He relents for the time being. Proud of what cracks in Dean’s armor he made. When Chuck sent him, he asked Lucifer to ruffle a few feathers. Mess with their heads, ensure this ragtag group of losers would stay down. Accept their fate, end this miserable experiment called humanity in sadness. “Don’t provoke them too much, though,” Chuck warned, fists curled along his jacket’s lapels, “Betrayals only work when the other side doesn’t expect them. Plot’s stretched thin as it is, bringing you back doesn’t really make sense –“

           “I love you too, dad.”

           “That’s why you need to lay it on thick,” he said, “steer them away from why, keep the action moving.”

           Lucifer stared down at his father, frowning. “Anything else you need?”

           “No,” Chuck clapped Lucifer’s shoulder, nodding. “Just be yourself.”

           Except none of them wanted him. Especially Dean. He wanted… Castiel.

           It’s a little off-script, but Lucifer bets Chuck will enjoy what he plans. Even if it’ll involve his least favorite character. Lucifer hops off the table, grace burning across his body. Razing this vessel’s form, stealing its characteristics and distinguishability. A tall mound of clay left that he molds into a new body. Darker hair, sturdier frame, and bluer eyes. “Dean,” he says, swallowing his laughter. “Dean…” He tries again, sounding exactly like him.

           Like Castiel.

           Dean tenses, “Cas?” Barely audible, Lucifer strained to hear his prayer. That hope, sweetness quickly bittering as Dean digests the scene. “No…” he sighs, mumbling into his legs. “Lucifer, thought I told you to quit it.”

           “Lucifer is gone, Dean,” he lies, kneeling. “I’m here… please, Dean, look at me.” Lucifer grabs at Dean’s head, thankful the other man lets him. Green finds masked-blue, their ‘reunion’ drawing a pained breath.

           “What?” Dean asks, a single tear slipping free. Trails along his cheek until it falls off his chin. “How – how is this happening?”

           “Because of you, Dean.” Lucifer’s hands shift, a thumb smearing that tearstain while he runs fingers through Dean’s hair. “You refused Lucifer’s help, even though what he said was true. The Empty saw and decided, if we were to truly end Chuck, the risk of sending me will be worth it.” Expression darkening, Lucifer leans into dramatics. Lips quivering as he recites his next line, “Though not without conditions, Dean – I… you know I can’t stay, right?”

           “You will,” he says, “Cas – we will… if this book really can end Chuck, and we take him out, what can the Empty do –“

           “Take you,” Lucifer cuts him off. “Take you… Sam, and Jack. I step even an inch out of line and we all get sucked into their being, with no hope of actually defeating my father.” He nearly breaks character, watching how the light in Dean’s eyes flickered before being snuffed. Lucifer regains composure, growling his next words. “You understand this, then? What it means?”

           Dean nods, snaking his hands across Lucifer’s wrists. “Means we don’t have long,” he barks, squeezing tight. “I have to set it right, right now.”

           “Dean –“

           “No, Cas,” Dean talks over him, guiding Lucifer’s hands off where they rested. Silences the disguised archangel by chaining him, making Lucifer a helpless victim. Awe real as he waits for Dean, cowed by longing powerful than his earlier annoyance. “I… I need to get through this because – well, the last time you didn’t let me get a word in edgewise and I, there was a lot left unsaid that I don’t want to stay that way. If we can’t have a future, then at least… at least we have here.” He laughs, choking on it. More tears dance their way down.

           “When you told me you loved me, I couldn’t believe it,” Dean confesses, “and then, when you told me why I – I was… I believed that less. I mean, you… you’ve listened to your heart more than I have. Even if a few of those times it was wrong, everything you did was for love. Knowing you was – that was my happiness. Having you, in whatever way you’d let me. Because there you were, this shining beacon, and for some reason you kept on letting me bask in your glow. I felt I… I didn’t deserve it. That I didn’t deserve you.”

           Dean brings Lucifer’s knuckles to his lips, pressing a light kiss along a patch of skin. The gesture disgusts him. “And you were right about how – I thought of myself so… so poorly, it kept me from saying and – and doing things I wish I’d done sooner. All my life I thought there were things I couldn’t have, rules I had to live by, and I never questioned them until you saved me from hell. Literal and figurative. Because of you, I wanted to be a better person. I wanted to be good. But I never believed I could. Then you tell me you loved me… because I was good. I already was the kind of person I thought seemed impossible. I couldn’t believe it. What’s stranger… I didn’t have to believe it, to know it’s true.” Dean smiles at him, Lucifer mirroring his gesture though it pained him. “I’m the person I always wished I could be, and even when you’re gone I’ll still be that person. I’ll miss you, Cas. Always. I’ll miss you, and I’ll love you. I’ll love you always.”

           It happens before Lucifer realizes. Distracted, nauseated by Dean’s powerful emotions, he missed how a hand snuck its way towards his neck. Pinched there, startling him. In that second, Dean forces Lucifer into an embrace. Lips crashing together, Lucifer stays frozen while Dean attacks his mouth. Mewling, whimpering.

           Disgusting.

           He pulls the curtains back, reverting to his previous form. Delights in how Dean senses the change, peeking with one eye as Castiel’s face vanishes. The other man violently hurls himself to the side, gaping at him. “Why Dean,” Lucifer grins, awkwardness heavy in his tone, “if I had known that’s how you felt about me…”

           Dean sobs, wiping at his lips. “How… what the –“

           “You really thought I was Cas, didn’t you?” Laughing, Lucifer towers over him. “I figured you’d catch on but… I underestimated you. And for that I’m sorry.” He devours these new emotions radiating from Dean, eagerly lapping them up. “I’m also sorry that you’ve convinced you deserve a happy ending,” he twists the knife further. Dean flinches, turning. Fleeing. Lucifer shouts at his retreating figure. “That’s not your story, Dean! Don’t ask for more, be happy with what you have!”

           Then, as he waits for his next babysitter, Lucifer’s eyes glow red. “Because soon enough… you won’t even have that.”

[clareguilty]

Kinktober Prompt 1

McCree/Reader | Size Difference, Corset Word Count: ~2000 Rating: Explicit | No Warnings

I know this is a bit longer than anticipated, bit I had entirely too much fun with this prompt

You weren’t sure what idiotic notion took hold of you when you heard noises from the parlor. It was the dead of night and you knew for a fact that your father wouldn’t be back until later in the week.

Whoever was downstairs must have known that too.

Every ounce of sense left you the moment you heard heavy footsteps crossing the parlor. Setting your book aside, you grabbed the small lamp by your bedside and crept out into the hall. The house was supposed to be empty, so the hall was pitch dark and terribly cold.

Someone was still stomping around downstairs, rummaging through cabinets with no attempt to remain silent. The thought still hadn’t crossed your mind to run for the back door and alert the authorities. Instead, you continued following the noise. You peered over the stair railing, catching the movement of a shadow but nothing more.

You had lived in this house your entire life, and you knew just how to sneak down the stairs without making any noise. The burglar was blissfully unaware of your presence until you turned the corner into the office -- supposedly they had already cleared out the parlor.

The light from your lamp illuminated the small room. The burglar turned and raised his arm; his revolver clicked as he pulled the hammer back.

You froze. The burglar was handsome. Yes, he was robbing your home and stealing all of your father’s valuables, but you had never expected a criminal to look like that. Sure, he was unkempt, but there was something wild about him that made you take an unwitting step forward. Good lord! He was huge too. Sure, you were rather petite, but this man was taller than anyone you had ever met with the muscle to match.

The burglar looked you up and down and chuckled. “Good evening, Miss,” he grinned. It reminded you of the coyotes out in the desert. “I didn’t expect anyone to be home.” His eyes were warm, inviting almost.

“I don’t accompany my father out to the oil fields,” you said dumbly, as if that was information this man needed to know.

“Ah,” he lowered the gun just a little, clearly he didn’t think you were very threatening. You barely came up to his shoulders and probably weighed half as much as he did. “He leaves you here all by yourself?”

“We don’t usually get robbed.”

“First time for everything,” the burglar shrugged. “Do you know the combination for this safe?”

“What makes you think I would tell you something like that?” You were starting to get angry. How could this man be so cavalier? You had caught him during a robbery! Did that mean nothing to him?

“No hurt in asking. I’m not going to have to tie you up, aren’t I?”

“What?”

“Tie you up,” the man hefted a coil of rope from his belt. “You ain’t gonna start screaming and hollering and making all kinds of trouble?”

You shook your head, cheeks growing warm. “I don’t think so. I do wish you wouldn’t rob us though.”

“And I wish money grew on trees, darling.” The cowboy turned back to the safe, tapping it with the muzzle of his revolver. You took a few steps closer.

“Is there anything I can do that will convince you to leave?” you asked.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head, I’ll be leaving soon enough,” the cowboy either misunderstood your question or was being intentionally obtuse.

“No, sir, I meant could I convince you not to rob us?”

The man turned, a gleam in his eye that made you shiver. He raised his eyebrows and took a step forward. You didn’t flinch, raising your chin to hold his gaze. This was your home. You weren’t going to let some dusty outlaw waltz off with all of your valuables.

“What do you have to leverage against the contents of this safe?” You didn’t miss the gleam in his eyes, the curl of his lips, the way his posture changed.

You weighed your options. Sure, it was just money, bonds, whatever valuables your father had left lying around, but you weren’t going to let this man just take it. You knew where things were heading; despite what this man may think, you weren’t a complete idiot. It all came down to whether or not you were willing to give yourself over to this burglar for the sake of protecting your family’s wealth and honor.

Fuck it. You were home alone, and this man was more handsome than anyone you had met in a long while.

“Something my father values far more than any money or gold: Me” You stepped forward, never breaking eye contact. “Take whatever you need.”

Heat flared. Strong arms grabbed you and dragged you forward. Hot breath fanned over your neck. “You had better hope you’re worth this,” the man growled.

The sound of fabric shredding ripped through the room, and you felt your skirt fall to the floor. The man’s hands began to wander, squeezing your breasts through your corset before trailing down to grab at the flesh of your ass. The linen of your underclothes was no match for his strength, and soon those were gone as well. You gasped as the floor disappeared from beneath you. “Damn,” the man breathed, “you weigh nothing.”

In two strides he had crossed the room and deposited you on the cold wood of your father’s desk. Forcing your thighs apart, he leaned over you, completely caging you with his body.

“Wait,” you pushed your palm against his broad chest. He was solid beneath you and unyielding. The man hesitated, arching an eyebrow.

“What’s your name?” you asked.

The man cocked his head, considering. “My name’s Jesse.”

“Jesse,” you repeated.

The moment ended, and Jesse’s huge hands ripped your blouse from neck to hem. All of your clothes had been destroyed, and you were left in nothing but your corset. He buried his face in your neck, lips pressing wet kisses and beard scratching against the sensitive skin. You cried out as he bit down. He knew exactly what he was doing; you would be covered in bruises tomorrow. They would probably still be there when your father finally made it home.

One of his hands slipped between your legs, rubbing you gently until you were dripping down onto the wood of your father’s desk. He pressed two fingers inside of you without warning, curling them and pressing forward in a way that made your legs shake and your head hazy.

“Oh,” you moaned, “Jesse…”

His eyes lit up at the sound of his name. Whatever reservations he had about telling you earlier meant nothing when you sounded like that.

“Be a good girl for me,” he said. A third finger pressed into you, and you whined loudly. His fingers were huge, and he seemed intent on ruining you with them. You grabbed his arm, gripping the fabric of his shirt as he spread you open. You tried to buck your hips, but his other hand pressed you down onto the desk. He moved a little quicker.

Jesse moved, pulling back from you and kneeling on the floor between your legs. You didn’t have time to wonder what was going on before his tongue licked over your clit.

“Fuck, Jesse!” you cried, thighs closing in around his head.

He didn’t pause, eating you out until you came over his lips, clenching around his fingers.

“That’s a good girl.” He pulled out. You blinked at him, still trying to collect yourself after your orgasm. Jesse leaned over you, pressing his slick fingers to your lips. You tried to pull back, but his other hand gripped your jaw, squeezing until your lips parted enough that he could shove his filthy fingers into your mouth.

“You had better behave,” he warned. His hand didn’t move from your jaw, and you felt the tip of his cock press against you. God, he was huge! Your eyes widened in fear as he pressed his hips forward. The stretch was nearly unbearable, he filled you so completely. You whimpered and shook as he sank into you inch by inch.

“Holy shit,” he breathed, looking down. He released his hold on your jaw, hand trailing down over your stomach. You followed the movement, letting out a gasp when his palm pressed down.

His cock was so large that you could clearly see where it pressed against your corset, lifting it ever so slightly. Your head grew light as you watched the ridge disappear and reappear as Jesse thrust into you. He couldn’t seem to stop himself, moving slowly but firmly as he began to fuck you, eyes glued to the sight of his cock filling you.

Your head fell back, eyes fluttering shut as he sped up. It was too much, the fullness, the slide of his cock, the sharp pleasure. What had become of you? No other man would ever live up to this. You could never take a husband after being filled by Jesse’s cock. There would never be anything like it.

“Fuck,” Jesse groaned, “You’re so tight, so good. I can’t wait to fill you up.” He sucked another mark into your skin. His hands grabbed your hips, thumbs nearly meeting -- he was so much larger than you. He could break you if he wanted. 

With a low growl, he began fucking you faster and faster. You cried out, coming so hard the world went white for several moments. You clenched tight around Jesse’s cock, back arching as you cried out.

“I’m gonna come,” Jesse choked out. “Gonna fill you up -- claim you. You’re mine. Fuck-” his hips stuttered and he hissed. You felt his cock twitch inside you, warmth spreading through you as Jesse finished.

He slumped over you for a few moments, his weight pinning you to the desk. Without warning, his teeth sank into your skin once more. “I’m coming back for you,” he whispered. “Don’t you dare think about trying to run.”

You didn’t fight him. He pulled back, cock slipping out of you. You shivered at the sensation, hips moving ever so slightly. Jesse’s eyes were drawn to the sight of what he had done to you, his seed spilling out of you and onto your father’s desk, the marks on your skin, the dazed look in your eyes.

He cleaned himself up quicker than you expected, tucking his cock back into his pants and retrieving his gun. “Well, Miss,” he grinned, “this has been a wonderful evening.” He picked up a bag off the floor, and you recognized the clink of metal.

“Wait,” you called out, “You said you wouldn’t steal anything if I -- If I…” Your eyes were pleading.

Jesse shrugged. “I’m not very good at keeping to my word.” He stepped in close, looming over you. “But you listen here,” his eyes grew dark. “I’m going to come back here again, and I expect you to be just as good for me. You don’t want to make me angry, do you?”

You shook your head.

“Good girl.” Jesse brushed his thumb over your chin, more gentle than he had been the entire night. He turned and strode out of the office. You pushed yourself off the desk to chase after him, but your knees were too weak and you fell to the floor as you heard him disappear into the night.

-

Your father returned two days later. You ran into his arms, eyes full of tears. Someone had broken into the house. You had been too scared to confront them so you hid. They took some of the valuables.

Your father was upset, but not angry with you. “All that matters is that you’re safe,” he said, leading you into the house.

A few weeks later, you woke in the night to see a large shadow in your room. Your cry of surprise was cut short by a huge hand closing over your mouth.

“Are you going to be a good girl for me?” Jesse asked.

You nodded.

[the--sad--hatter]

No Survivors - Chapter Two

Fandom: None, this is an original work of fiction.

Genre: Sci-fi, fantasy, space opera

Rating and warnings: 18+ ONLY. Contains scenes of graphic violence, death, gore, cursing, and scenes of a sexual nature.

Disclaimer: All content and characters are created and owned by me, and my work is NOT to be reposted anywhere else without my explicit permission. Reblogs are fine, and very much appreciated.

The No Survivors Tumblr Blog | Masterlist 

Blurb:

6000 years into the future and humanity is thriving, having made their home in The Emerald Galaxy, lightyears away from their home planet. They’ve come a long way since the days of Earth. Lifespans have tripled, interstellar travel is a daily occurrence and humans have successfully integrated with alien species. All is well.

But for Captain Ice, nothing has been well for a long time. The once distinguished Captain is now a disgrace and a liability, carrying the weight of the cost of war on her shoulders. All Ice wants to do is carry on drinking herself into an early grave pod, but the Emerald Empire has a use for her yet.

Deep in The Emerald Galaxy lies Sector 12, or The Empires armpit as it’s referred to in polite company. When Sector 12’s Captain retires, General Felicity Hart decided to rid herself of a nuisance and instructs Ice to form a new crew and take over the job of glorified janitor.

Humanity survived the annihilation of its home planet and a journey across the universe, but can it survive the adventures of a disgraced Captain and her mismatched crew, or will there be… No Survivors?

The tall towers of the citadel were dark and imposing, carved from the black obsidian that was abundant in the mine shafts of Heart. Inside the looming spires the same darkness was copious, dark marble and stone as far as the eye could see, onyx around every corner that J`ess`inca ‘Jess’ Crowley had turned on her way to the laboratory she spent every day in, though she’d come to see it more as a self-imposed prison. She idly pretended to be diligently taking notes as her boss talked very quickly and very inaccurately about cell stabilisation until she couldn’t take it anymore.  

“Doctor Marx it’s impossible, even if you were able to create a shield around each individual cell, the rapid shrinking would damage them inside it and that’s before you displace them and then resize. Teleportation just isn’t possible” She interrupted.

He paused and looked up from his screen, putting extra effort into his sneer so his lowly assistant knew how little he thought of her.

“You’re my assistant, you’re here to take notes not give your opinion.” He snorted derisively, the white wispy hairs of his unkempt moustache fluttering from the breath.

She didn’t know his exact age, but the wrinkles and grey hair indicated he had to be at least 260 years old. How someone could live for two and a half centuries and be so tactless and obstinate, she would never understand.  

“It’s not my opinion, it’s the facts.” She argued calmly.

Doctor Marx could look down on her all he liked, she would never let the opinion of someone she didn’t respect have any effect on her. Before Doctor Marx could foolishly rebut the logic, a sharp rap on the labs open door had the two doctors turning around.

“Yes? What do you want?” Marx demanded impatiently.

He was more than used to having to provide his services to the Empire’s army so he wasn’t overly concerned, though admittedly most Captains didn’t bother to come to him directly. He might have been disinterested with the woman standing impassively by the door, cutting an imposing figure but Jess was intrigued. Captains were not a rare sight in the Citadel, in fact the base was crawling with them, but none like this. She was clad in the standard garb, the leather Captains coat they were all identified by, but she didn’t wear it the same way every other Captain did. It was loose, worn and battered and ill-fitting and yet the woman wore it more naturally than any of the stuffy uptight Captains that roamed around.

“I’m recruiting for my new team and I need a scientist.” The woman shrugged.

Jess felt a little jolt of jealousy run through her. All crews required a scientist and a medical doctor to to accompany the teams across the galaxy and partake in their adventures. It was the kind of adventurous life she had dreamed of, but as bright as her future once seemed, she knew better now. Her life was never going to be more than surviving, never living.

“Well we’re busy. Go away.” Marx snapped.

He clearly thought his research was too valuable to be abandoned in favour of running around the galaxy with a group of trigger-happy goons but that was no excuse for being so disrespectful, especially to someone who outranked him. Jess sighed and walked over to her, extending her hand with an apologetic look.

“I’m Jess Crowley, Doctor Marx is in the middle of something. He doesn’t mean to be so rude.”

The Captain smirked knowingly and took Jess’s hand in her own, grasping it firmly.

“Pleasure to meet you, Doctor Crowley. I’m Captain Ice.” She introduced herself, watching carefully for the inevitable reaction.

Jess felt her own eyes widen as Marx looked back up from his screen in shock and awe. Captain Ice was more than legendary, she was iconic. Jess was too young to remember The War properly, the one that had taken her father from her, but she had heard the stories. Hidden away from the sharp ears of the Empire the truth was whispered reverently, ‘The Empire didn’t win the war, Captain Ice did’. Enough people had seen the Captain for her existence to be confirmed but she was so elusive that she had become something of a folktale. Nobody knew the truth about The War, who it had been with or why, all they knew was billions of people had died, an entire sector of the Galaxy had been destroyed and that when it was all over, Captain Ice had been the only person The Empress had personally thanked. Legend had it that The Empress had decreed that Ice was the only subject in The Empire who would never kneel for her, and that The Empress had herself knelt for Ice.

“Captain Ice, I’m so sorry, I had no idea. Please accept my apologies. Recruitment you say? By Ice herself? What an honour. I would of course be happy to accept.” He stammered.

Even Marx wasn’t immune to the reputation of the Captain.

“You can go away, I’m here for her.” Ice dismissed him, not taking her eyes off of Jess’s.

Jess physically recoiled, trying to stuff away the spark of hope that flamed to life in her heart, even as she protested.

 “Me? Oh, but I’m Marx’s assistant I can’t…”

“Doctor J`ess`inca Crowley, you received highest honours in your graduating class from the Empire Academy. In all fourteen of your subjects. You are most definitely the smartest person in the Galaxy and yet here you are, taking notes for a crackpot.” Ice interrupted.

“I beg your pardon?” Marx spluttered.

“Get out.” Ice ordered with all the care of swatting a bug.

“This is my laboratory!”

“Now.” Ice snapped in a tone that brokered no argument, fixing him with a chilling glare that had him looking terrified and hurrying away.

As soon as he scarpered from the room, practically tripping over his own feet in the process, Ice turned back to the young Doctor with an expectant look. Jess inhaled shakily before she straightened her shoulders and stood tall.

“I’m flattered, really I am, but I’m staying here.” She said resolutely, hiding her disappointment in having to pass up the chance to live out her wildest dreams.  

Ice hummed thoughtfully and nodded, wandering around the lab, peering at the screens with scant interest. She found a large model of the Galaxy in the centre of the lab and reached into the centre of it to snap the model of Planet Heart from the display and tossed it in the air like a ball as she regarded Jess thoughtfully.  

“Humanity cracked the secrets of space travel, broke the light and sound barriers, invented gravitational force fields and synthetic atmospheres. We have eradicated most of the diseases that threaten us, slowed the aging process, tripled our lifespans and we did it all six thousand years ago. We still haven’t got teleportation right, which means we probably never will. Even if we did, Marx isn’t going to be the man behind it, which means you can’t steal the technology from him.” She announced, her eyes glinting with mischief.

Jess swallowed her heart back down as it jumped into her throat. If Ice knew the truth then she was done for. The Captain wasn’t here to recruit her, but to arrest her.

“Steal it? I wouldn’t, that’s not what... I mean why would you think that?” She asked thickly.

“Because that’s what you are being paid to do, so you can pay off your brothers considerable gambling debts.” Ice explained.

Jess’s shoulders dropped. It was over, she had been discovered.  

“You’re here to take me in.” She whispered.

“No.” Ice corrected.

Jess frowned. For one of the first times in her life she didn’t understand.

“I told you, I’m recruiting you. I’ve paid your brothers debts. You’re free, so is he. Welcome to the crew Doctor Crowley.”

Ice tossed the model planet through the air one last time before she held it out to Jess with an expectant look. Jess reached out, her fingers tentatively closing around the miniature replica of the planet they were standing on, the rich green sphere pressing into the palm of her hand.

“Why?” She asked softly, squeezing the planet in her hand.

“I have a new assignment and I need a crew for it, which means I need a scientist and a doctor. You tick both categories because you really are the smartest person in the known worlds. And because Captain or not, I don’t particularly care about the law.” Ice scoffed, pulling a small tablet from under her coat and passing it to Jess.

“Now, according to The Code, I still need at least one cadet, a first lieutenant and a mechanic. Let’s get going.” Ice finished briskly, making a beeline for the door.

Jess stood there for a moment longer, tablet in one hand and… the whole world in the other. She laughed softly in disbelief as it all started to sink in. Her brother was safe from the thugs who threatened him, she was free from Doctor Marx and a living legend was walking down the hallway after literally just handing her the whole world. Slipping the model planet into her pocket she hurried after the her Captain.

 ~~~

He knew that most of Earth’s history had been lost, or twisted beyond recognition, but believed that the old tales of warriors who fought for the spectators were true. Standing before the cheering crowds with sweat dripping down his face and his opponent groaning on the floor beneath him, he knew it had to be true. The allure of adoration, the thrill of victory, the burn of exertion, it was addictive.

“You have a long way to go before you’re ready to rise up the ranks, Corporal.” He scoffed, stepping over the bleeding person he’d defeated.

When he’d made lieutenant he hadn’t for a second imagined that he’d end up here, stuck on the same planet he’d spent his childhood, stowed away in the training rooms so he couldn’t embarrass his family any further. He’d made the best of it, acting like it was a choice, using the opportunity to show off his combat skills. He spent his days preparing men and women for a future he couldn’t achieve and his nights in the arms of whatever adoring fan took his fancy, all the while trying to convince himself that it made him happy. So what if he never made it to First Lieutenant, never advanced up the ranks, never achieved the same glory his sister had effortlessly snatched from her competitors? He had everything he needed here, in the training pits below the citadel.

He eyed the crowd of cadets and citizens, eyes drifting over them until he found one that stood out to him. Someone he could wrap himself around, bury himself inside, a distraction for the night. Beautiful men and gorgeous women alike were considered and discarded until his gaze fell on two anomalies. Two women, standing together, one in a lab coat and the other in a Captains. That wasn’t what caught his attention about them though, it was the lack of interest in him that had him walking over to them. The lab coat didn’t even glance up at him as he approached, her eyes glued to the tablet in her hand. The Captain just stared at him impassively.

“Captain. Doctor?” He greeted them, slamming his fist into his chest as he was expected to do in the company of a Captain.

“Lieutenant Hart.” The Captain responded, stating his name blankly.

“I see my reputation precedes me, but I don’t know you two. Which is strange because I know most of the Captains, especially the beautiful ones.” He tried, turning on the charm that always had people warming to him.

“I’m Doctor Crowley, we actually have met. You tried to buy me a drink once.” The lab coat informed him, finally looking up at him.

“Tried?” He pressed, bemused.

“Tried.” She confirmed, firmly no less.

He nodded respectfully, accepting the unspoken terms of their interaction she had set out for him. The Captain cocked her head at the Doc, amused or confused he couldn’t be sure.

“I’m Captain…”

“Ice.” He interrupted her introduction. “The whole citadel’s talking about you. More than usual that is. The legend has finally returned and she’s taking over Sector Twelve. I’ve heard about your little recruitment drive and as soon as the doctor introduced herself I knew who you were. I thought you’d look more intimidating.” He noted.

The same day she’d been made into a legend was the same day he’d been branded a failure, and yet he had never crossed paths with the woman before. He knew all about her of course, well, as much as anybody knew. Probably a little more than most, though not much. The woman was shrouded in so myth and mystery that to see she was just flesh and bone, and not very tall, was anticlimactic.

“I’m not the only one with a reputation.” Ice reminded him.

He dropped the friendly grin and clenched his jaw at her vicious remark.

“You should be nicer to the people you are trying to recruit.” He snapped.

He knew why she was here, there was no other reason for her to seek him out.

“Trying to recruit? I’m a Captain, you’re just a lieutenant. I can draft you to my crew if I want.” She pointed out, far too smugly for his liking.

“My sister is the General, you can’t force me to do anything.” He spat, furious at having to bring up Felicity.

“I don’t see any other Captains offering you the chance to add First to your Lieutenant title and it was your sister who said I could have anyone in the Citadel for my crew, and look where you happen to be standing.” Ice told him, looking pointedly at the ground.

“I have no interest in patrolling the Armpit of the Galaxy for a washed up has-been of a Captain. If you want me, you have to fight for me.” He sneered, his lip curling back over his teeth.

He issued the challenge hoping to get a reaction of some kind, but she disappointed him, slipping off her coat without blinking. The Doc held her arm out for it, already so obedient for her new master. Ice stepped forward, rolling her shoulders to loosen them up.

“Terms?” She asked, raising her hands defensively and placing her left foot back.

“First person whose back hits the ground loses.” He suggested, a little shocked he’d been goaded into issuing the challenge and that she had accepted so easily.

Ice was unreadable, nothing tangible or recognisable behind her eyes. He wasn’t stupid, he knew that someone who could wear a mask that effectively only showed emotion if they wanted it to be seen, so he had a sick feeling in his gut that he was being played. She had reminded him of his reputation and put him down just to get his hackles up. Most likely so she could humiliate him, break him down and prove she was his superior.

He clenched his hand into a fist and struck out, aiming below her raised arms for her ribs. His fist never connected, she moved back and trapped his wrist between her forearms, twisting his arm between hers and pulling him forward, off balance. He let himself stumble forwards, falling to his knees and twisting his upper body so he could slam his elbow into the soft flesh of her waist. She didn’t even grace him with a grunt of pain, but it clearly hurt her because he was able to free his trapped arm and spin away, getting to his feet and facing off against her again.

“You’ve got a lot more fire than your name implies.” He snarled at her.

“Ice can burn you just as badly as fire can.” She smirked, waving him forward to try again.

He feinted left, like he was going for the bruise he’d likely already left and she didn’t flinch, reading his body expertly. He felt a flicker of begrudging respect. He opened his mouth to ask her if she was frozen in place but before he could get the words out she stepped forwards, faster than he had ever seen another human being move. He never stood a chance, the impact of her fist slammed into his ribs, knocking the breath out of his lungs. She wasn’t overly strong, but she was strong enough. It was her speed and dexterity that made her deadly, because as soon as her knuckles left his ribs she fluidly turned her back to him and stepped into his body, wrapping her arm behind her - around his waist. It all happened in a split second, too fast for him to realise what had happened, never mind defend himself against it as she leant forward, pulling him with her so he was flipped over her shoulder.

As his back slammed towards the ground something twisted inside his heart and it was only decades of Empire training that saved him. He got his feet on the ground first and threw his hands underneath his body, holding his back centimetres off the ground. He saw her raise an eyebrow at his gambled manoeuvre, and her nod of approval sent a wave of anger blazing through him.

He neither wanted nor needed her approval. She was the darling of the Empire, respected by every person residing within it. A life that should have been his, had he not fucked it up. He was the first son of the first family of The Emerald Empire, in the days before the democracy that ruled The Empire now, he would have been a Prince. She was a nobody who had risen through the ranks on nothing more than her own ability, earning what should have been his birthright. She was better than him in every way, and they both knew it. He didn’t want her approval, because it was just thinly veiled pity.

He used his upper body to flip to his feet, holding back the snarl inside his chest as he attacked, raining blow after blow down on her. Most of them were blocked with ease, but a few landed. The seconds ticked away as they engaged in a violent dance, spinning across the floor in a macabre and dangerous waltz. For every blow he managed to land on her, she retaliated with two more. They were far from evenly matched but though she was faster and nimbler, he was stronger and built to take more damage, thus neither of them achieved the upper hand. He realised it was going to be stamina that won the fight, and there was barely a sheen of sweat on her skin. If he wanted to win he wasn’t going to do it by playing to his strengths, he had to play to his weakness.

He waited for an opening, a chance to step forward and leave his face unprotected, steeling himself for the hit that would be coming as a result of it. He’d known it was inevitable, he’d opened himself up to it, and yet he still didn’t see her move. It was only after the side of her fist slammed into the space between his neck and his shoulder that he knew she’d done it, by the pain shooting through him. Agonizing as it was, it was what he needed. He stumbled back, wincing in pain. Ice almost casually followed and kicked his legs out from under him, letting him fall to the ground. At the last possible second he grabbed her wrist and pulled her body into his, cradling her against his chest.

The dull thud of them hitting the ground signalled the end of the fight, the silence that followed only broken by his laboured breathing.

“You lose.” He whispered, pushing himself upright until he was kneeling on the ground.

Ice lay on her back, stunned. He’d used his own fall to bring about hers, pushing her under him in a move she couldn’t have foreseen. After all, she was a warrior and in a real fight, he’d have just gotten himself killed.

He stood up and held his hand out to help her up, but was unceremoniously shoved out of the way.

“Are you alright? Did your head connect with the ground?” The Doc demanded, clucking worriedly and looking over her slightly bemused Captain.

“No, it didn’t. His hand was cradling my head, because he didn’t stumble at all. It was a manoeuvre wasn’t it?” Ice deduced, looking up at him with more of that respect he hated.

He forced a smirk onto his face to mask the ire, glancing around as he only just registered that they’d had an audience. They were clapping for him. For the first time in his life he turned away from the adoration and watched as Ice climbed to her feet, gently swatting away the Docs attempts to help.

“Well done, nobody’s bested me in a long time. A deals a deal, I won’t recruit you.” Ice declared, tugging her coat out of the Docs arms and slipping it back on.

“Seems you’re not washed up after all, you are as good as people think you are,” He admitted, “It just so happens that I’m better.” He added, unable to help himself.

She just nodded, seemingly agreeing with him and walked away. Apparently she meant it, she wouldn’t be trying to recruit him after all, and that meant she had no further use for him. Shaking off the gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach he turned back to the crowds and held out his arms.

“Who’s next?”

~~~

“I want to ask if you let him win but I can’t think why you would let your ego take a beating like that.” Jess muttered, side eying Ice with lingering concern as they left the training bays.

Ice pulled the door open and held it for her, frowning slightly.

“I don’t have an ego.” She stated as Jess passed her.

It wasn’t a rebuttal or protest, just a simple irrefutable fact.

“But you’re….”

“I’m what?” Ice pressed when the doctor trailed off.

“Captain Ice.” She uttered, like it should be explanation enough.

“Putting that massive IQ to good use I see. See Daniel, he has an ego,” Ice said, waving her hand in the direction they’d come from, back towards Lieutenant Hart, “And people with ego’s are easy to manipulate. They either develop an ego because people inflate it for them or because they need to inflate it themselves as a shield. Either way, you bruise the ego and you’re an enemy. I need a First Lieutenant, not an enemy.”

“So you don’t have an ego because you don’t want to be weak?” Jess formulated, trying to make sense of her new superior who was more forthcoming than she had expected.

It occurred to her that Ice wasn’t really being all that talkative, she was just answering Jess’s questions, treating her like an equal, letting her work her brain. It was refreshing.

“I don’t have an ego because I am weak, and I know it. Most of the tales they’re telling about me these days aren’t true, and the ones that are have been embellished. Listen to me Doctor,” She demanded, stopping dead in the middle of the corridor and staring Jess down, “Better people than me died in The War… My reputation is fuelled by their bloodshed and built on a foundation of their bones. You’re a scientist so don’t put stock in fairytales, examine the evidence yourself and form your own opinion.”

It was said gently, she wasn’t being scolded, but still, she had to prove that Ice was right to seek her out for the job, to save her from monotony and crime.

“Who’s coat are you wearing?” She asked.

Ice quirked her eyebrow and tilted her head to the side slightly, curious about the sudden line of questioning.

“Captain’s coats end at mid thigh, yours ends mid-calf. There are creases in the leather around the elbows from the amount of times you’ve pushed the sleeves up. The coat wasn’t made for you, it was made for someone much taller.” She continued, pointing out her deductions calmly.

The corner of Ice’s lip twitched minutely in a ‘blink and you’ll miss it’ motion.

“You’re right, I was someone else’s. It’s mine now though.” She validated, starting to walk onwards again.

She wanted to ask whose it was but it somehow didn’t seem kind to press the issue any further. After all, most Captain’s didn’t retire.

“Why Lieutenant Hart?” She asked, moving to what seemed like a safer question.

Apparently she’d assumed wrong because Ice just shot a blank look over her shoulder instead of actually answering.

“Why do you need a crew at all? What’s the assignment?” Surely Ice would answer that one, since Jess was going to find out sooner or later anyway.  

“I’ve been assigned to Captain a sector.”

“Which one?” Jess gushed, rushing to fall into step beside Ice again.

A new solar system, dozens of potential planets to explore. The things she could learn and discover, the adventures she could have. Her mind filled with visions of the acid rains of Tregelorth in Sector 3, the black diamond moons of Artemis in Sector 412, the iridescent hallucinogenic gas from the trees of Fairthorlia in Sector 77….

“12.” Ice announced as she swung open the outer doors and stepped outside.

“The armpit?” Jess asked somewhat dejectedly, her daydreams shattered.  

“You were raised here on Heart weren’t you?” Ice scoffed, glancing up at the teal skies above them.

“Yes?”

“Then the armpit is an upgrade considering you grew up in the Empire’s asshole.” Ice informed her.

“What?”

Ice held her arms out, gesturing to the expanse of the Planet.

“This is where all the Empires shit comes from.”

NS Taglist (OPEN) 

@cateyes315​ @severepienerdturkey @justellu​

I can’t explain how grateful I am to everyone who has read this. I’ve had this concept in my mind for years and I have wanted to tell this story for so long. 

Reblogs (especially reblogs), comments, likes, anything you’re willing to give is massively appreciated. 

[cecilspeaks]

154 - The Heist, part 2

You have orbited the sun. You have been to the Milky Way galaxy. You have seen the moon. You are an astronaut. Welcome to Night Vale.

The Sheriff’s Secret Police announced today that they have no new leads into the ongoing investigation of the robbery at the Last Bank of Night Vale. The three people who stormed into the bank, held the staff and single customer at gunpoint, but did not at first even ask for any cash from the registers’ drawers. And yet in only a few minutes, and with no damage to or forced entry into the vault, they had managed to steal millions of dollars from it. Sheriff Sam described the details of the robbery as follows. 

The robbers entered the bank repeatedly shouting “This is a robbery” and waving their guns around. After a minute or so, teller Genevieve Daly finally asked: “Do you want me to give you money?” “Um, yes,” the robbers decided. “We want you to give us money.” “How much money?” Genevieve asked. “How much do you have?” the robbers replied. Genevieve then had to count the money in her till, which took a while, because bank protocol requires that tellers count the money multiple times, until the total amount matches twice in a row. But on her second count, Genevieve was two dollars off from her first, so she had to start over. “Hang on,” she told the masked intruders, “gotta do it again.” “No worries, the robbers said, truly looking like they were not worried. Customer Joel Eisenberg, who had dropped face down on the floor the moment guns were drawn, immediately handed over his wallet to the robbers. “What’s this for?” the robbers asked Joel. “You’re robbers, aren’t you?” Joel said, careful not to look directly into their eyes. “I’m giving you my money, not trouble.” “Cool, cool,” the robbers said without looking in the wallet. Genevieve’s manager, Susan Willman, stood behind her new employee nervously explaning to the thieves, “I don’t have access to the vault. I-I-I don’t know the combination.” “That’s fine,” the robbers said. The security guard on duty that day and every day for the last 50 years was Jesse McNeil. Jesse does not carry a gun, so he couldn’t intervene, but he has always been known for his friendly charm and grace. He tried the old “kill them with kindness” approach by complimenting the fine work the robbers were doing. “I understand you’re robbing our bank,” Jesse said. The robbers cooed and said, “What a nice thing to say, old man, thank you.” “You can’t tell because we are wearing plastic masks of former US presidents,” said the robber with the face of Richard Nixon, “but we are blushing, kind sir.” Within minutes, the Sheriff’s Secret Police had arrived. “Who called the police?” the robbers asked, but without urgency, as if it was the first table read of a pilot TV script. “I did not,” Susan and Genevieve said at the same time. “I left my phone in my car,” Joel said from the floor. “I am sitting in a chair by the door,” Jesse said and the robbers guffawed at the audacity of this old man, so highly complimenting himself. “Well we have to take hostages now,” the robber said and soon, the police had entered the bank. There was a brief shootout with no injuries, and the robbers were apprehended and the hostages freed shortly thereafter. There was also a fire that engulfed the front of the bank, which helped their efforts to arrest the perpetrators, but police do not understand how it started. They believed it was a diversion, during which time the criminals were able to empty the vault. But they have no leads yet on where this money was taken or how they got into the vault. 

The only other person in the bank that day was vice president Steve Carlsberg, who was not taken hostage, because he had accidentally locked himself in his office. Oh, Steve. Steve said that he eventually kicked his door open, breaking his foot in the process. Oh, Steve! He got free, but only after the criminals had been arrested and the fire extinguished.

None of the three robbers is talking to the police, even after their HBO privileges were taken away from them, so the sheriff is asking anyone in Night Vale with information about this heist to contact him immediately. You can do this by calling the Sheriff’s Secret Police secret tip line, which can be reached by just speaking aloud. They are one of the several organizations that have universal access to your phone’s mic and camera.

I talked to Carlos today. He’s been running his experiments over at my sister Abby’s new house, in an old storage shed out back because, well his laboratory is under renovations and he was making such a huge mess over here with all of his chemicals staining everything. Abby is, of course, married to Steve Carlsberg who is home from the hospital with the cast on his foot. Carlos told me Steve is fine. He is having a hard time adjusting to crutches and he’s still shaken by the whole experience. But he’s focused on rebuilding the bank and getting everyone back to work. He’s been inviting his employees over for lunch this week, to keep everyone on task for reopening the bank, and to treat them to his famous medium rare rosemary chicken recipe.

Carlos said he had met Susan Willman several times before. “She’s delightful,” Carlos said, which I’m sure I misread. He’s also met Jesse before too. “Oh, he’s always over there, real nice guy,” Carlos said. “He once told me, ‘you’re a scientist’, and it was the kindest thing anyone’s ever said to me. So I showed him my lab and just talked his ear off about my doorless fridge project. Jesse got so excited he had to leave after only 15 minutes.” Carlos said that since the robbery, though, Jesse has not looked as cheerful or healthy. Jesse looks sick, like he’s nauseated.

Carlos said he joined the crew for lunch today and cheered them all up with funny stories about science, but he’s taking a break from his experiments and should be home early today. Carlos ran out of the chemicals he needed to continue his work, and has to wait a few more days to get more. “I thought I has plenty of it,” Carlos said, “I calculated exactly how much I needed, but it wasn’t near enough. Well, this is why I studied science instead of math. “Anyway, Steve’s going to be fine,” Carlos said. “I love you.” And I said, “I love you too.” You might think that last part wasn’t necessary for the news story, but it was. Love is the most important news story.

The Sheriff’s Secret Police have announced a breakthrough in their bank robbery investigation. They’ve been interviewing witnesses and combing through their notes and evidence, and they think they have figured out exactly what happened at the bank. They’re planning a full report later today. They had the report ready to go now, but right when they started the press conference, they realized that they probably should make an arrest first, and also because in their excitement to make this announcement, every single person on the police force showed up, leaving the abandoned mine shaft where they keep prisoners unattended, which is probably fine because the cells are all completely locked, but - wow, you never know, right? Better safe than sorry. “Hoo wee,” the representative from the Secret Police said, “We really should go check on that jail. My bad!”

And now a word from our sponsors. Today’s show is brought to you by Budweiser. Have you ever wondered about that house at the end of your street, the one with the windows boarded up? The one that does ever receive sunshine? The one with the incongruous Victorian architecture in your otherwise ranch style tract home suburb? Have you ever dared your friends to spend a night in that house? And they did it, because they don’t like being called weak, and then they re-emerged the next day completely normal as if nothing had happened, only something did happen? Like you couldn’t tell at first because your friend was like, “It was just a house, totally boring”, but you started noticing weird things in their behavior, like they suddenly were fluent in Romanian and they would whisper it to someone you could not see? And then there was that time your friend laughed for 10 straight minutes, and you did not know why, never learned why, and when they finished laughing, all of the trees in your neighborhood were dead? Well, we here at Budweiser know exactly what made your friend laugh, and we know what happened in the house that night. And some day, you will know it. but not today. No, not today. Budweiser: Be glad today is not the day.

The bank robbery earlier this month has understandably shaken customer confidence. So vice president of the Last Bank of Night Vale, Steve Carlsberg, has called a press conference to address public concerns over the security of their bank accounts and investments. Here’s Steve’s statement.

Steve Carlsberg: First I wanna say thank you to all of my valiant and valuable employees. They faced down danger, and without their bravery, we might all be much less fortunate. To Susan Willman, my dear friend: thank you for your leadership under such duress. To Genevieve, our newest employee: you deserve the quickest raise we’ve ever given out, and I promise it won’t always be like this. And to Jesse: you protected our bank for nearly 50 years, and your training finally paid off. Thank you for your service to our safety. And Joel Eisenberg, our lone customer, who stared down those monsters and did not give an inch: to you I say thank you.

I want the people of Night Vale and the customers of the Last Bank to know that we have your security in mind. We are cooperating with the Secret Police, and while this crime is not completely resolved, no customer has lost a single dollar of their savings. We are well insured, and I guarantee you [muffled] all protections are in place.

Cecil: But while Steve Carlsberg was talking, the Sheriff’s Secret Police returned to finish their announcement from earlier.

Steve: Wait, I’m not done yet!

Cecil: Seeing that Steve had claimed the podium in their disorganized absence, the Secret Police had to stand at the back of the room and wait impatiently. Their feet tapping, arms folded, each of them exhaling deeply and intermittently, one of them groaning aloud, “Is he done yet? Ugh.”

Steve: OK, yes, but…

Cecil: One of them staring demonstrably at the clock.

Steve: ..I signed up for this time slot at the podium and no one was here when I arrived, so I’d like to finish. [pause] Are we good? OK, fantastic. So uh, where was I? Oh, I was trapped in my office! I regret that I was not standing with my brave staff during this terrible event, but see, I think someone barred my door to prevent me from coming out there, really letting those robbers have it! I’m a nice guy, but not when my family is in danger. And these people, Genevieve, Susan, Jesse – they are my family. Joel and every other bank customer is my family, and I would do anything, anything, to protect them if they were threatened.

Cecil: Just then, the Secret Police – did you know that a group of police officers is called an obstinency of cops? [ahem] Marched to the podium declaring: “Four o’clock, your time’s up.” Two officers grabbed the mic shouting “Dibs” simultaneously, and then had to play rock, paper, water torture to see who got to speak.

Steve: Hey, hey watch it buddy! I-I-I mean officer. Sorry, uh…

Cecil: The police then announced they had in fact left all of the cells at the abandoned mine shaft locked earlier today, but somehow the three bank robbers escaped. Their cell was still locked and no tunnels or holes were found, yet the three were completely gone. “Dang it,” the police spokesperson said. “The important thing is we tried our best. Anyway,” they continued, “we’re proud to say that we have made an important breakthrough in the bank heist case. We have made a new arrest of the person we believe responsible of the theft at the Last Bank of Night Vale.

Steve: Oo, that’s great!

Cecil: The police then turned to Steve Carlsberg and said: “We have arrested our prime suspect in this conspiracy: Steve Carlsberg.”

Steve: What?

Cecil: The police handcuffed Steve. Oh, Steve…

Steve: No! (--) I didn’t (--) [yelping, inaudible]

Cecil: And led him outside to the back of a squad car. Listeners, I-I-I, I wish I could tell you I’m happy that the police think they have solved this bank robbery, but I cannot tell you that, this is not right. Steve would never. [sighs] While I sit with my feelings, you will sit With the weather.

[“Only One Star” by Ann https://soundcloud.com/carlitta-ann]

Sheriff Sam talked to reporters. These reporters were confused and angry, upset that such a good man, their brother-in-law in fact, could be confused for a master criminals. The Sheriff said the robbery of the bank vault required inside knowledge, someone who worked at the bank, someone who knew the combination of the vault, and could get the money without any damage to the vault, walls or door. Steve is the only employee present who knew the combination. The frustrated, enraged reporters then asked what happened to the money. If Steve stole the money, as they said, surely the police must have recovered it. Sheriff Sam said it’s clear the money has been spent on luxury. The suspect, Steve Carlsberg, bought a brand new house with a storage shed even, the most obvious symbol of opulence. “But he closed on that house weeks ago,” the infuriated reporters stated. “How could he have paid for something before he had the money?” The Sheriff then held up a life-sized promotional cardboard cutout featuring the text “Great mortgage rates are inside of you”. The Sheriff said: “He used something called a mortgage, and elaborate financial scheme where you don’t have to pay until later, a brilliant and evil ploy for bank robbers.” “Mortgages are normal, I have a mortgage,” the displeased reporters responded. “Maybe you’ll be arrested next,” the Sheriff spat. “Also, Steve Carlsberg bought a fancy car for his daughter. He even upgraded the vehicle with hand controls for braking and acceleration. We could tell right there we was flaunting his stolen wealth.” “She’s in a wheelchair,” the disgusted reporters snapped back. “Those controls are necessary and standard.” The Sheriff shrugged and said: “You say tomato, I say criminal.” And with that, they stepped away, smug in their arrest of this innocent man.

I didn’t know what to do, so I called Carlos. He said he was coming home early today, but I haven’t seen him yet. He didn’t answer his phone, so I called my sister Abby. She was understandable upset about her husband’s arrest. I told her I would do everything in my power as an investigative journalist to vindicate Steve, even if it means starting a podcast. She sighed and said: “I know.” When I asked if Carlos was still at her house, she said: “He’s gone.” “Oh good. I’ll see him soon then,” I replied. “No,” Abby said, “You won’t. the police were just here questioning me and Janice. Then they took Carlos with them to the station. They said they’re not done with their investigation.

Listener, stay tuned next for a song and language you have never heard, written in a key not on any scale, played in a time signature that changes with each measure.

Good night, Night Vale, Good night.

Today’s proverb: The gum you like is out of style again.

[rosalind-of-arden]

Smoke and Iron Reread chapter 26-27

We finally have Jess in the same room as Wolfe and Santi again! Now we just need to get the poor boy in the same place as Morgan for once. Here comes more trauma!

If I’ve got the timeline right, Khalila’s group has been in Alexandria for at least a week by now, maybe more like two weeks. Jess is in contact with the Spanish ambassador, but hasn’t heard anything about them. Alvaro is playing his cards very close.

Jess asks “Where was the duty and honor in what had just happened?” So are these values taught to all High Garda? The training program doesn’t seem to be company-specific. They’re definitely values Santi holds, but there are other High Garda we’ve seen who aren’t sticking to them.

Wolfe’s condition as of this reunion with Jess: “His hair was a matted, graying mess, and he looked paler and more wild than Jess had ever seen him, but it was Scholar Wolfe. Bruised, and from the look in his eyes, half-mad, but alive.” He also looks weak. First of all, that hair has to be driving him nuts. And he has visible bruises (assuming on his face, since he’s clothed... or is he? Jess doesn’t say. Dammit, Jess), so he’s been treated roughly by the guards and/or Artifex/Archivist, at a bare minimum. A quick round of some form of torture that wouldn’t be too physically incapacitating isn’t out of the question. His mental state is bad enough that Jess can see his distress, which is saying something considering how determined he was to hide it when he left his cell.

The Archivist claims that nothing was done to Wolfe. Even putting aside the fact that just being in prison is fucking traumatic for Wolfe, even disregarding the inhumane prison conditions, Wolfe has bruises that he didn’t have before. Something happened.

The Archivist is also an overly familiar dick who calls Wolfe by his first name.

Wolfe’s voice is “rusty and hollow and haunted.” He begins with a sentence fragment. Not good signs, there. Also, note that he does not suggest that Jess left him out of the plan because he would refuse to participate himself. He asks if Jess left him out because he wouldn’t let Jess do something so risky. Such. A. Dad.

Poor Neska. Here’s the Archivist again throwing away talented and intelligent people in his paranoia.

Wolfe’s silence as resistance: He says nothing at all to the Archivist, and Jess finds that frightening.

Once they’re away from the Archivist, Wolfe’s first words to Jess are to tell him to give his newly traumatized brother space. Immediately after that, he asks about Santi. Jess can’t even let him finish that sentence.

Jess doesn’t know how Santi is? Time for Wolfe to break out the defensive snark.

Wolfe doesn’t bother to correct Jess’s assumptions about how he and Santi would have responded to the plan. He also doesn’t want Jess’s apology. He needs to focus on making escape plans. He’s not going to be able to stay sane otherwise. Jess is right that Wolfe isn’t “broken to his core”, but Wolfe is more fragile than he wants to let on.

Wolfe knows when something unexpected has happened. He doesn’t know it’s a rescue, but he does recognize the opportunity that this unplanned stop could represent. More focus on action.

Barricades and checkpoints have become so commonplace and routine in Alexandria that Santi’s troops can use them to spring this ambush without the Elites suspecting anything. Regular High Garda vs Elite rivalry probably also helps. The Archivist set himself up to lose his valuable prisoners this way.

“Damn your soul to the crocodiles.” Nice colorful language there.

Cleaning barracks toilets must be a common High Garda punishment.

Troll is a good actor.

Santi’s company steals chemical weapons technology from the Burners. Just how long ago was “a while ago”? This seems like the sort of thing Wolfe might have helped with. Give him a sample, have him work out how to duplicate it.

Naturally, the first thing Wolfe asks about is Santi. He says “Nic” with these soldiers, not “Santi.” A sign that these guys are friends, not just employees, to Santi? And Botha doesn’t even wait for him to finish the sentence, either. He reassures him right away. Everyone knows how important this is to Wolfe.

And poor Wolfe immediately goes from being worried about Santi to being worried about Santi seeing him in such bad shape. “But he’s seen me far worse.” So there’s how this compares to post-Rome Wolfe.

The Spanish embassy has space for military storage, large enough for at least five troop carriers. Is this normal? A sign the Spanish have been plotting?

Glain is wearing a High Garda uniform. Santi isn’t. Interesting.

“Wolfe, who was staring motionless at Santi.” Do I suspect Wolfe is having a little moment of questioning whether this is real? Why yes, I do.

“Santi, who was moving straight for Wolfe, slowly, as if he couldn’t believe his lover wouldn’t vanish.” I don’t think Jess is reading Santi right here. Santi isn’t the one at risk of losing his grip on reality. Santi is, however, very aware of how bad of condition Wolfe might be in, and he wouldn’t want to startle him with sudden movement. He’s moving slowly to make sure Wolfe feels safe.

Still love Thomas insisting that Jess watch the Wolfe/Santi reunion.

Wolfe is shaking, Santi is right there to hold him and support them.

“The sound that he made came deep from his soul, a raw sound of relief that seemed to echo through the air.” So everyone complains about how writing romance with characters who use the same pronoun can make things annoyingly ambiguous. Now let’s talk about how it can be ambiguous in a good way. Look at this. We don’t know whether it’s Wolfe or Santi crying out in relief here. The first clause in that sentence uses both characters’ names, so no grammatical clue there. Jess might not know. It could be either of them, it could be both, and it doesn’t fucking matter. They are so relieved to be together again that we have temporarily blurred them together through pronoun use.

Here’s Santi assessing Wolfe’s health while he apologizes for not being with him. And here’s Wolfe assuring Santi that whether he was physically present or not, he was still, in a way, there. And then we get a kiss. Such delicious emotional payoff after watching them struggling without each other for most of the book.

You’ve all already read my speculation, in fic form, on why Santi is running off to Jess’s room instead of staying with Wolfe. Wolfe must have sent him on some errand, or asked him to go away long enough to squeeze a quick shower in, or something. Only other way I can see Santi leaving Wolfe alone would be if they got into a fight, but I’m not sure either of them would be inclined to bicker this soon after being reunited. Wolfe’s pretty annoyed when he catches Santi picking on Jess, and he’s still very quick to soften up.

So here’s Santi, stuck with nothing to do, full of trauma-inspired rage. He’s probably remembering how Wolfe was after Rome and worrying about how much trauma Wolfe is trying to hide now. There is nobody standing between him and Jess, unlike Dario, who had Khalila to stop Santi from coming after him. Santi needs to do something, and the most productive thing he can come up with is taking revenge on the one he blames for Wolfe being hurt.

Calm Santi is scary Santi. Especially when he’s got a hand on your throat.

Santi still suspects Dario came up with the plan. Dario is damn lucky that Santi respects Khalila and has been busy enough with their plans not to come after him.

Jess very likely saves his own life by not fighting back. In Santi’s mind, when he attacks Jess, he’s seeing Jess as a threat. That’s not rational - it’s entirely a response to seeing Wolfe hurt - but it’s how he sees Jess. Thus the immediate and vicious attack. Jess failing to behave as a threat is what shakes Santi out of treating him as one. His core values won’t let him kill a helpless victim. When he starts to think rationally, he’s shocked by his own behavior, but then Jess starts to talk, and Santi starts seeing him as a threat again, but this time he has enough control to respond only verbally. It’s not until he starts thinking about how Wolfe would not appreciate his overprotectiveness that he really calms down.

What bothers Santi most? That Wolfe would have been alone. The idea of Wolfe going through more trauma alone and/or dying alone really upsets him.

If there was a Wolfe/Santi fight before this scene, I suspect it was about this idea of Santi’s that he should send Wolfe away to somewhere safe. Wolfe would obviously not have been at all impressed with that idea.

Here are Santi’s controlling tendencies rearing up in response to trauma. “I want to send him out of here, away from all this, and never let him come back.” “Let him”, really Santi? But he immediately admits that of course Wolfe would refuse to be controlled.

Also interesting: Santi wants to send Wolfe away. Not take him. Santi is at this point fully committed to reforming the Library. I suspect he’s realized that Wolfe can never really be safe while the current Curia remain in power.

I do appreciate the way that Santi, when he recognizes he’s fucked up, owns up to it and apologizes. That’s a good example for the kids.

Santi and Jess put their differences aside and agree on protecting Wolfe. Wolfe is not impressed. And Santi knows right away that he’s in trouble. Doesn’t get him out of the lecture.

How much did it help Wolfe just to be able to clean up right after getting out of prison? How much is he connecting this time to his memories of Santi helping him bathe last time?

This whole Wolfe lecture is delightful, both the prickly beginning and the softer conclusion. And Wolfe’s got this in him when he’s barely able to stand.

Wolfe vs. Santi. Round wtf is it now, 12? Obvious winner is Wolfe. Score’s up to 7-3, Wolfe is the lead.

How do we know Wolfe has really adopted Jess? Here he is letting Jess see him sink into Santi’s arms. He’s letting Jess see him being both weak and affectionate.

Look at the difference in Wolfe and Santi in how they react to “a broken bone heals twice as strong.” Wolfe used it as a mantra to comfort himself, and tries to comfort Santi with it here. Santi laughs when he hears it, but his laugh “sounded unsteady and half-desperate.” Remembering that first night comforts Wolfe, but it triggers Santi. That night was the beginning of recovery for Wolfe, but it was traumatic for Santi.

Memories, also. Santi: “I remember everything. That’s the curse of it.” Wolfe: “That’s the beauty of it.” Santi definitely finds those memories of Wolfe’s return traumatic. A lot of ways we can read Wolfe’s statement there. He may just be pointing out that it’s a good thing that Santi even has all of his memories; Wolfe might not have recovered all of his, even with the mesmer. He might be talking specifically about the night of their reunion after Rome, which he just referred to. It’s a beautiful, comforting memory for him. It’s not for Santi. Wolfe might also be recognizing that there is value even in traumatic memories. Obviously, he hasn’t reached the point of accepting all of his yet: he’s still actively repressing some as of his next chapter. But he’s decided that kind of acceptance is something to aspire to.

Glain gets the best lines. To Jess and Dario: “Stop squabbling about the size of your-” Sadly, Khalila interrupts.

Santi has already gathered his company and started recruiting other High Garda allies.

[the-1890s-runaway]

If you could tell your muse one thing, what would you tell them? | Do you genuinely want your muse to be happy? What do you think would make them most happy in life? | How would you describe your muse to someone about to meet them, in person, for the first time? 

questions for the mun, regarding the muse

If you could tell your muse one thing, what would you tell them? 

I would probably tell her that her choice of living will likely get her killed while she's younger, Esther wouldn’t care about that. She has a chance of not being apart of history greatly if all she’s going to do is steal cattle, mug people, steal valuables, steal horses on occasion. Most of the outlaws she looks up to has killed someone. Like Billy The Kid has killed at least four people (I think? if you don’t count the Lincoln county war). Jesse James was known for robbing banks and such, but he did kill people. I can’t remember exactly how many. With her crimes, she probably wouldn’t be that widely known and impact history that much. Esther wouldn’t be able to kill someone easily, but then this whole idea and how it would change Esther drastically is an interesting idea for a thread if anyone wants to see an emotional Esther Nancy Atkins. 

That might be more than one thing, but ehhhh.

Do you genuinely want your muse to be happy? What do you think would make them most happy in life?  

I do, I want Esther to be happy, but it is interesting to go through other emotions. Anger, sadness, grief, etc - to explore those emotions and to write them out. I think what would make her the happiest is when she has a partner, it sounds cheesy, but that’s really what I can think of other than her experiencing a high amount/level of fame. Both would be a joyful experience for her in her life. 

How would you describe your muse to someone about to meet them, in person, for the first time? 

She’s someone that has a lot of different reactions to things and how you act when first meeting her really matters. If you cross her or give her a reason to dislike you, she won’t easily befriend you (unless we talk ooc and we plan something). Esther is a person that definitely runs and acts on emotions. She is someone that focuses on herself most of the time, but not to the point to where she’s selfish and she does care deeply about the people she befriends. Generally, I guess she is pretty friendly, except she is quiet and keeps to herself when in public. She doesn’t easily go up and talk to someone. It really all matters on how the two get to meet each other.

[ecchima]

Unexpected Meeting on Peace Avenue -Chap 1

Summary: After a bank robbery gone wrong, Jesse left the Deadlock gang and ran as far away as he could, using what little money he had. With no real destination in mind, he arrived at San Francisco, a city he knows nothing about. With only two dollars and ten cents, he just hopes he’ll manage to survive and that neither the police nor the Deadlock gang will catch him.

Meanwhile, Hanzo arrived at San Francisco at the end of August with the order to lose his strong Japanese accent while studying at the University. He’s barely gotten out and honestly doesn’t want to… Until he gets a crush on a lonely cowboy.

Words: 3,8k Rating: T Warning: brief sexual assault during the bank robbery AO3

Chapter 1: When San Fracisco becomes misty

It’s the beginning of the afternoon when Jesse finally finds a good spot to sit on in the heavily populated avenue. A little corner, just his size, where he would be protected from the cold wind and the shop owners’ view while still being visible to the crowd and not too far away from an alleyway he could use to escape if trouble decided to come his way again.

As soon as his butt touches the ground however, he wishes he hadn’t thrown away his jacket just so he could sit on it and spare his ass from the biting cold of the asphalt. Trying not to think about the cold or why exactly he had to throw his jacket away, Jesse sets his hat down in front of him and throws his last two dollars and ten cents inside. He wishes he had a pen to write on a cardboard piece but he guesses that if he had a choice, he’d rather get himself a blanket with that money. Maybe he’d steal a pen somewhere later… And food. Had it been in other circumstances, he would already have stolen all that, and more. He would have found an empty apartment and broken in before calling his family to come and help him.

Jesse scoffs. His family. He couldn’t keep calling them that. He’s better off without them, especially after what happened. He sighs and closes his eyes. Deadlock had been his family for a long time though, ever since he ran off from his dad.

He remembers how it all started as if it happened only yesterday. He’d been running from the cops that day, looking frantically for a safe place to hide. It took him a while but he had found one, only he wasn’t the only one hiding there. Deadlock members, at least ten of them, were all around him. He remembers how big they all seemed to him, how he thought he would die here and there. But instead of attacking him, they asked him what he was doing here, why he was hiding and then, finally, if he had a place to come back to.

They had accepted him in, given him shelter, just like that. They were just a small biker gang at the time, Jimmy was still the one in command and for once, things were ok. It didn’t last long though, the gang grew bigger and greedier. Rodriguez always wanted more while Jimmy wanted to keep things simple and comfortable enough for “his family”. They fought, Rodriguez killed Jimmy and things started to change. The gang still called itself a family but it sure didn’t feel like it anymore. It was a crime organization, dealing all sorts of things in the shadows, stealing more valuable goods, killing people on occasions.

Jesse only stayed because he had nowhere else to go…

Until the bank robbery, two days ago.

Jesse and five other guys had been chosen by Rodriguez himself to accompany him to the bank. It wasn’t their first bank robbery and it wouldn’t be the last, but this time they had chosen a bigger establishment. Everything went rather well in the beginning. There were twenty hostages at most, and no one managed to call the police. Rodriguez immediately went down in the vaults with his best men, briefly telling Jesse and Gary, a new recruit, to keep an eye on the hostages while the other three kept watch of the streets and entrances.

But the problem with Gary is, it’s that he gets bored.

That’s when things started to turn sour.

“I’m so boooooored, why do we have to be two watching those rich scums? It’s not like they’re going to try and do something stupid.” Gary whined, pointing his gun under the jaw of a young woman, making her look up at him. “Are you sweetie?”

“We’re not supposed to interact with the hostages, Gary.” Jesse interjected, incapable to keep his mouth shut, as always. “Lower yer gun.”

“I don’t take orders from you, McCree.” Gary spat, yanking the women’s hair, making her whimper with fear. “What’s your name, sweetie? I bet it’s as pretty as your eyes.”

The woman took a sharp breath and closed her eyes, a few tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Are you deaf, sweetie?” Gary asked, sinking his gun further under her jaw. When she shook her head, he yanked her hair harder. “Then tell me your name.”

“T-Tina…” she cried.

“See, it wasn’t that hard, Tina.” Gary said, letting go of her hair and patting her head. “Say, you’ve got quite the airbags down there, enough to fill the hands of an honest man,” he added, caressing one of her breasts. “How big are they, uh?”

“Leave her alone, Gary.” Jesse spat, his hand on his gun.

The other ignored him, leaning closer to Tina’s ear to murmur something to her. Probably something lewd seeing how she squirmed to try and put distance between them. Gary chuckled, grasping her boob with more force.

“Come on, Jess, let the kid have his fun!” One of the lookouts exclaimed.

“Show us the goods, Gary!” Another hooted.

Jesse almost missed it when Gary licked her ear before pulling away, almost. He was already fuming back then, and even if Gary had stopped here and there, he would probably have left Deadlock after that. He may be a criminal but there were things Jesse McCree couldn't live with and witnessing his “family” commit and encourage sexual harassment was one of those things.

He knew he would die if he ever pointed his gun on either one of those guys so he tried to keep it in as long as he could, repeating just one more mission in his head, a silent mantra to keep him going... Until Gary tore Tina’s dress open to show her breasts, then started to lick one of her nipples as his hand slowly went up her tights…

Without even thinking, Jesse aimed his peacekeeper at Gary’s head and immediately, three other guns aimed back at him. Everything fell silent except for Tina’s sobs.

“Put your gun down, niño. You two can settle your little different at home.”

Jesse looked at Tina then, really looked at her. Was his life worth more than some rich girl’s dignity? He mentally scoffed, when has his life been worth anything anyway?

“Well, would you look at the time,” Jesse said as he closed an eye and started to feel the heat envelop him.

“What about it?” Gary asked, perplex. He hadn’t been with them long enough to know what was about to happen but Jesse swore he saw the other three guys take a step back.

“It’s hiiiigh noon.” He smirked, pulling the trigger so fast he didn’t even hear the four detonations, only one big BANG before they all fell on the ground, each with a bullet right between their eyes. He exhaled, the heat was gone, leaving him cold like death.

Jesse fell to his knees, exhausted and breathing heavily. His right eye, the one he used to shoot, started to burn and Jesse knew he wouldn’t be able to see with it for the next few days. Despite how cold he felt, Jesse took his jacket off and stood up.

“Tina, right?” He said, looking down at the girl. She tried to put distance between them but nodded quickly. “Can you walk?” She squeezed her eyes shut and nodded again. Jesse sighed, “I ain’t goin’ to attack you,” he murmured, securing the jacket around her shoulders. “Just promise you’ll burn this thing for me, a’ight?”

He stood up a bit too fast and felt the world spinning. He could hear the guy Rodriguez took into the vault with him shouting, asking what happened. He winced. They were running out of time.

“Anyone here knows where the security lever is?”

“It’s over there, behind the health advert!” A man pointed.

Jesse raised his eyebrows at him. “Smart place. A’ight, y’all should probably run now!” He yelled, activating the system.

Thick steel panels started descending over the doors as a shrill noise resounded in the vast hall of the bank. Jesse heard the guy he left behind swearing loudly as he sprinted out of the bank and on the road with the hostages. The doors closed soon after the last person left and Jesse let out a breath of relief. He was still alive. The hostages were still alive.

He let his gaze wander into the crowd until he could spot that awful leather jacket, emblazoned with the Deadlock symbol. The man who had given him the position of the security lever had his arm around Tina and Jesse realized how similar they looked. Must have been her dad. It was good to know she wouldn’t be alone after everything she went through and he wouldn’t be surprised if she never wanted to visit her bank ever again.

Police sirens pull Jesse out of his thoughts and back into the present. He was still a criminal, he had killed four men down there and he had no doubt they would put him in jail. Or worse, execute him. This state wasn’t against death sentences last he checked and he really didn’t want to stick around to find out if he was right.

Adopting a slow and easy-going pace, Jesse did his best to look like he was just some innocent kid about to take a bus to go home. Except he wasn’t going home, he was running as far away from it as possible.

First, he took a bus to the city’s biggest bus station. From there, he took the first bus he could catch, not even checking whether it was going north, south, east or west. The destination didn’t matter, as long as it was far away from Santa Fe… Several buses and a quick nap later, Jesse arrived at San Francisco.

Jesse shivers, a cold breeze taking him back to the present. He’d still rather die frozen to death in the windy streets of San Francisco than wear anything emblazoned with the Deadlock symbol again. He chuckles, remembering the day Jimmy gave it to him and how much he had loved the thing. In the end, the item that gave him a home took everything he had managed to get over the years.

“What is so funny?”

Jesse jumps a bit at the voice, not expecting someone to talk to him.

“Nothin’, sir. I just realized I'd rather die here alone than stay warm with the people I used to call family.” He drawls, looking up at the man in front of him. Asian, not much older than Jesse but clearly richer. The kind of guy who has enough money to buy a new car instead of changing a tire, just because it’s cleaner and easier.

The man huffs and smiles, “I am not unfamiliar with the feeling.”

Jesse expects to see him walk away, maybe put a couple of bucks in his hat in compassion; but the man stands there, as if lost in his own thoughts.

“Soooooooooo, what brings you on,” Jesse pauses and squints at the sign at the next intersection to read the name of the avenue before facing the man again; “Peace Avenue today if you don’t mind me asking?”

“One of my… Acquaintances keeps insisting I go out more. I was hoping I could find a small restaurant and have dinner somewhere quiet.”

At the mention of food, Jesse’s stomach awakes, growling loudly and making him blush in embarrassment. He tries to laugh it off, patting his belly.

“Sorry ‘bout that. Looks like lil’ Timmy is getting impatient here.”

“Perhaps you could join me then.”

“Uh?”

“For dinner…” The man clarifies and Jesse swears he sees him blush.

He thinks about it for a moment, on one hand he could get a free meal in a warm place but on the other hand, he doesn’t know this man. Maybe this is a trap, maybe the man works for the cops or worse, for Deadlock. But then Jesse looks at him in the eyes and…

“I’d sure love to, if it’s no trouble.” Fuck.

“I would not have asked you if that was not the case.”

Jesse quickly gets back on his feet to avoid looking at those dark brown eyes any longer. How could he look so earnest and innocent at his age? If this is a trap, he’s definitely screwed.

He grabs his hat and counts the few dollars he has before putting it back on his head. “I saw a burger place on my way here, looked like some sorta cozy pub. Unless you’d prefer to pick something else yourself.”

“A burger sounds good, is it far from here?”

Jesse takes a few seconds to think, trying to remember the way. “Should be just a few blocks down this street so not too far, no.”

“Perfect, I let you lead us then.”

It only takes them around twenty minutes of awkwardly walking in silence to reach the restaurant but it’s all worth it once they get inside. There are a few customers, seated in couches along the windows and quietly enjoying their meal; a bartender behind a bar lined with high stools, playing a game on his phone and a waitress walking towards them.

“Dinner for two people?” She asks, hastily fixing her apron.

Jesse is about to point out how stupid that question is –they are clearly only two- but the man is faster.

“Yes, a table in a corner if possible.”

“Sure, follow me please.”

Once they’re seated, the waitress brings them two menu and some water before leaving again. Jesse looks at the prices first, then reads the descriptions, making sure not to pick something too expensive yet still filling. He catches the other staring at him as he puts his menu down and raises an eyebrow. He swears the man blushes again before hiding his face behind his menu.

“Uh… Is there somethin’ on my face or…?”

“No, you simply looked quite serious about choosing your meal. It is… Intriguing.”

“You never check the prices and compositions when you order?”

“Why would I check the prices?” The man seems confused, which makes Jesse laugh. Rich people really live in a different world.

“I’m pretty sure most people check the prices before they buy or order something.”

“Do they not just order what they want to eat?”

“What if they can’t afford it?” The man still looks confused so Jesse goes on. “Let’s say they earned 50 bucks that day and they don’t have money aside. They want to eat a main course at,” he opens the menu and points at an expensive burger, “25$ but then they realize they’re still hungry because this burger here isn’t filling, it just has foie gras in it. Who puts foie gras in a burger?” he asks, squinting suspiciously at the composition. “Anyway, they’re still hungry so they get a dessert, let’s say this one, at 12$. Surely after such a meal, they’re gonna feel heavy and want to order tea or coffee, that’s an extra 2$ to 3$.”

“I fail to see your point, this does not exceed 50$.”

“You’re right, they still have 11$ but then they have to pay the bus or a cab to go home, maybe buy stuff for breakfast on the way and they can’t do all that with just 11$.”

“I see…” The man closes his menu and looks out through the window before continuing. “I apologize if I sound foolish, I was not raised to see the world under this angle.”

Jesse studies his face then, trying to read his expression. He looks… Almost sad.

“One of the guys once told me that rich people live in a different world than the rest of us, with different rules and different issues but rules and issues nonetheless. Now I imagine that if no one told you the rules, it might be hard to understand the game.” Jesse smiles sheepishly, he’s never been really good at comforting but he just can’t stay quiet neither.

The man chuckles –and damn, he has a pretty smile. “That was pretty good, do you mind if I write it down?”

Jesse blinks, surprised. “Errrr, no? Go ahead.”

“Thank you. One of my classmates is from Nepal, he’s fascinated about humanity and the way we interact with things, including our pairs. I think he would quite like what you just said.” He explains, typing on his phone.

“He sounds like an interestin’ folk to be around,” Jesse offers, slightly uncomfortable.

“He is.”

“You said he’s your classmate? You’re here to study aboard?”

“What makes you so sure that I am not from here?”

Jesse absentmindedly scratches his cheek, “the accent kinda gives you away, du-sir.”

“Please, call me Hanzo. You are right though, Timmy; my father insisted I come study here for this reason.”

“Uuuuh… My name’s not Timmy.”

Hanzo frowns. “But earlier, you said…”

“Oh, oh no no no no!! I just,” Jesse blushes violently and looks away, he’s so embarrassed he wishes he could just disappear. “I just call my belly that, ‘t is not my real name.”

“Are you ready to order?” The waitress asks, making them both jump with her sudden apparition. Jesse’s so happy for the change of subject, he thinks he could kiss her.

“Yes, I’ll take the double buffalo chedar burger please!” He blurts out, pointing at the burger on the menu in front of him.

“I will take the same.” Hanzo says, calmly handing out his own menu.

“How do you want the steaks? Rare or medium rare?”

“Rare,” They say in perfect sync before looking at each other in surprise while the waitress nods and trots back to the kitchen. An awkward silence settles between them before Hanzo decides to break it.

“So… If Timmy is the name of your stomach, may I ask what the rest of your person is called?” There is a sly grin on Hanzo’s face, a bit hesitant at first but more determined when Jesse returns the smile.

“Well, people call me of sort of names,” he says, leaning on the table. Hanzo chuckles but plays along, leaning closer as well. “Deadeye, cabrón, handsome,” he winks; “but my friends call me Jesse.”

“Only your friends? Should I call you Deadeye then?” Hanzo teases, leaning back a bit.

“Only my friends and foolish rich strangers paying me a burger.” Jesse can’t help but grin, he’s starting to like Hanzo a lot more than he thought he would.

The waitress comes back with their orders then and Jesse has to use all of his self-control to eat slowly and not inhale his burger in one go. He takes small bites, savoring the mix of meat and cheddar when he notices Hanzo suspiciously eying his own meal. Amused, he pauses to watch as his companion takes extra care to cut his burger in equal parts with fluid, graceful motions.

“Why are you laughing?” Hanzo asks when he notices Jesse is struggling to contain his laughter.

“I’ve never seen anyone bein’ so serious about cutting his burger right!” He exclaims, laughing a bit harder now that Hanzo is looking at him with his big, surprised eyes.

“Oh, I see.” He answers soflty, looking at Jesse’s messy plate full of sauce and bits of garniture everywhere. He chuckles, “It is like you said earlier; we have different rules.”

“And yet, you still invited me to share a meal.”

“I am not sure why I asked you to join me but I do not regret it.” Hanzo says, looking at Jesse in the eyes, “You are good company.”

“Well thank you kindly, Hanzo. You are not bad yourself,” Jesse grins. “And this modest burger is absolutely divine!” He adds, putting a slightly bigger piece in his mouth for emphasis, making Hanzo laugh.

They finish eating in companionable silence, simply enjoying their meal as well as each other’s presence. It’s almost troubling how easy it is to chat with Hanzo although Jesse still fears someone might recognize him. But for now, he’s happy to forget about the cops, about Deadlock and about the cold night in the street that awaits him.

“Have you been living in San Francisco for a long time?” Hanzo asks after the waitress came to gather their plates and told them to go pay at the bar. “You seem to know the city well.”

“Nah, I arrived this mornin’. I’ve only been to Pier 39 so far.”

Hanzo frowns and pushes a strand of hair away from his face. “Did you try to take a boat there?”

“No, I went to see the sea lions!” Jesse laughs, standing up and putting his hat back on his head. “They’re mighty cute.”

“Ah yes, I have heard some of my classmates talk about it but never found the time to go there myself.”

“You should definitely go! I saw they even have an aquarium nearby with otters in it!! Otters! Can you believe it?” Jesse says excitedly, he’s always loved animals.

Hanzo chuckles and hands his credit card over to pay. “Perhaps you could show me then. It sounds rather exciting.”

“Sure! I quite like the spot I found on Peace Avenue, you can come see me here whenever you want. The pier’s not too far from here.” Jesse smiles, holding the door for his companion.

As soon as they’re outside however, the cold hits him hard and Jesse starts shivering, his teeth clacking violently. Damn, he doesn’t even know where he’s going to spend the night. He didn’t see any subway signs and doubts there is any with all these hills. He briefly contemplates breaking into a car to get some sleep but quickly dismisses the idea. It would be too risky to break the law so soon after the bank robbery.

Hanzo coughs, interrupting his train of thoughts and making him look up. His companion has shrugged off his long expensive coat and is holding out to him. Jesse hesitantly takes it and feels the soft fabric between his fingers.

“Why are you giving me your coat? Ain’t you gonna need it?” He asks, dumbfounded.

“I will be fine, I have enough coats to dress a small army.” Hanzo shrugs, “In addition, the color suits you better.”

Jesse looks down at the brown fabric, and back up at Hanzo. He didn’t pay much mind earlier but he has to agree with the man: this shade of brown just doesn’t work with the other’s long dark hair and chocolate eyes. Slowly, carefully, he puts it on and closes the buttons. It’s a bit too big for him, just like everything he ever tries on. He really needs to start exercising if he wants to stop looking like a twig. However, the coat is warmer than it looks and Jesse sighs as the warmth engulfs him.

“Thank you, Hanzo.”

“It is nothing, I am looking forward to visit the pier with you.” He says as he gets into a cab he had called after paying for their meal. “Have a good night.”

Jesse watches as his companion closes the door and the cab starts moving again, soon disappearing at a corner.

[stellaluna33]

I feel like some fans love to choose when they want Lorelai's behavior to be warranted and not especially if they prefer a specific boyfriend of Rory's. If they love Dean, they will be completely fine with Lorelai making jokes about Rory's boyfriend being so obsessed with knowing where she is even by calling their house multiple times and waiting on the porch for her even when they didn't agree with meeting up, and love how Lorelai goes sooner against Jess/Logan. Or if they prefer Logan, they'll adore Lorelai for always having a seemingly antagonistic view of Jess that is at times really overdone (like blowing up over him apparently stealing a worthless bracelet? Why?), but when she voices her concern over Rory's fixation on Logan when he clearly doesn't do the bare minimum at times, or behaves incredibly childish by trying to steal a valuable ornament in her own parents' house, then suddenly she's very unreasonable. It's so ridiculous to witness every time, but especially when some Jess fans even just point out how some of Lorelai's outbursts over Jess make what he did into something that he didn't, especially over the bracelet but even the car accident. It's not a bad thing for her to feel overprotective of her only kid, but it's weird of her to deliberately think that somehow, Luke isn't entitled to worrying over his nephew when both he and Rory were involved in an accident, and it's somehow not possible for Jess to have simply caused an accident instead of apparently, deliberately trying to break her daughter by "driving recklessly" even when Rory told her multiple times that that wasn't the case. Yet people still try to say that oh, that's completely warranted! Her having this personalized vendetta against a teenager that didn't even do anything against her alone. But when it comes to their other favorites, suddenly her behavior is out of line, even when her reactions towards Logan in particular were way more subdued and reasonable in comparison to Jess's. And I don't even consider her to be in the wrong about Jess or even Logan based off of her first introduction to them, the former being the bad boy and the latter being the rich irresponsible kid because that's what they were both introduced as.

Well... yeah. I mean, that's human nature, right? We always want to justify the behavior of the people we like and come down hard on the people we DON'T like, and think both reactions are totally justified. It's true whether we're talking about fandom preferences or politics or personal relationships, and it would be nice if people had the self-awareness to A. realize when they're doing this, and B. admit that they SHOULDN'T do this, but... It's a natural emotional response that most people don't even question (nor do they want to). It would be good and right if the rules applied equally to everyone, but... most of the time they don't, unfortunately. You and I are probably guilty of this from time to time too! I try not to be, but the inherent nature of "bias" is that we're often unaware of it. The important thing, I think, is to be willing to honestly look at ourselves if it's pointed out and to be willing to admit it if we were wrong. You probably didn't want a philosophical treatise in response, but there you go. Haha!

[travellers-survivor-old-west]

Episode 7: “The coin flip gods decided Xander would be leaving us tonight”- Chloe

Everyone drop your..................... spare change we have a decision to make - Someone on the losing tribe, probably.

jeezzzzzz this round is fucking frustrating. so last minute last round my alliance flipped to keaton which was WONDERFUL!!! I was having a hard time talking to him and I'm glad it's Vi and Xander still here. the concering thing tho is someone told vi to do keaton so like.....someone tryna scoop up that good good number huh? this auction though....FUCK THIS. so it started off fine. nobody snatched the first thing bc it was useless. but then the second item hehe I grabbed it bc I wanted to throw to keep ashley safe + wanted to know what it was. so i was like ok cool love it. but then for some reason another item got posted after the time the post said the challenge would be running.....which was not fair flkjfl and i didnt see it cause i was like cool i can sleep now :) and then it's the fuckin most powerful thing in the game :)))) love that for me lol. and someone on that tribe fucked it up. i literally would've fuckin spent all the money for it if I'd known the auction was gonna go past the time the hosts said rip so that threw a wrench in everything and now i am a sad sad cowboy :'( next day i snatched the first item to end the auction so that the power hungry snakes in my alliance didnt get all the good stuff. so even tho i got nothing of value, i DID get assurance that only one thing is out there that I need to be worried about. :))) hehe :))) and it was REALLY EASY to play off like xander took them both tbh. he was typing in the chat the whole time lmao. the only problem is that chloe eve and isaac are actually smart and they might know it was me but like i rlly put in that fake nancy drew work and was like HELLO DID U BUY THOSE THINGS ? I even asked xander if he got either of the items hehe. im just sittin here with my two lame-ass packages <333333 but i have a really bad feeling about the other tribe. Ashley was on a work trip all week and I know her and her fuckery and her inability to talk to boring men and her tribe has way way too many of them. jared/sammy have the power on that tribe if they scoop dylan and goat nick or bro down with aidan. so it's bad news I think. I'm gonna be pissed at them if they get her out (and i swear to god if jared is doing it just to break up me and her so I'm closer to him he has another thing coming!!!!!!!!! :) ) i wanted to be loyal to jared and ashley, but if he gets her out before I even have a chance to play with her, im gonna be fuckin bitter!!!!!!!! and who knows what I'll do then :)

Well rip us again. I’m slightly screwed? Maybe. I did get 2nd highest score so hopefully the others keep that in consideration considering Owen, Xander and eve got lower than 50 points. I’m pissed Bc Chloe and I both tried hard to carry the team. We were 200 points under. That’s more than either one of us got. Every one else didnt do an entire section. One of them only did a couple pictures, another only did a couple videos. Rip I want to die.

BIIIIITCH. Shit has hit the fan and I finally feel like we're playing a game here. Last tribal was intense but it brought back that feeling as to why I play these things so I was kind of into it. Overall the scrambling in the last few hours showed a lot of people's hand and I think that was one valuable thing that came out of the last vote out (in addition to Sammy's vote out). Apparently the alleged vote was Ashley, which Jared told me rather late, and I didn't feel clued in on that AND I was a fan of Ashley. She was one of the only people here from my second tribe and she talked to me more than a majority of the tribe making me realize that the Malakoff OGs might have formed a voting block - Pat might possibly be involved. Apparently it was a push on behalf of Pat but I did use my vote steal and try to push things in order to save Ashley and push it onto another target. She really wanted Jared but I do feel like I have a stronger relationship with him and the ability to reconcile things further which is why I tried to deviate the target to Sammy. Plus in all of the ambiguity and the fact that my name was going around (as Ashley as a decoy to save herself *insert eye roll*) I felt the need to use the vote steal I secured on the rails. Regardless of how things played out at the end of the day I had no idea what the chaotic twink [Dylan] was going to do and in the event of a 3-3-1 tie I doubt Jared was saving me over Sammy. Weren't they butt buddies in a Tumblr Survivor or something? Like it just wasn't realistic... and I don't feel like I leveraged it poorly at all. Better than going home with something in my pocket like last time. Plus the studio art major's reaction in their exit interview only helped prove my point that they were the best person to go. Plus I felt as if the studio art major in question has the type of fun but lowkey personality that allows people to go deep and as such an extroverted loud ass bitch those players tend to be the ones on my radar. We worked hard, we persevered and won immunity. Pat worked his ass off in the fucking challenge because he knew he made a fucking mistake writing my name down but he's trying to be cordial. Honestly I think a lot of people are biding their time until merge and I have a sneaking suspicion I might be a person of interest when this merge comes. WHY? Well that challenge was CLEARLY thrown and the people who seemed to be left out of the loop were the ones from my original tribe. I'm pretty sure that's a fucking act of war in Ancient Greece. Nick (my number one ally atm I love you Nick) pointed that shit out immediately and made me run to check the results which left me shook. I tried to bring it up to Jared who played it off... another kind of red flag. My priority right now is to strengthen relationships heading into a potential merge and making sure they're on good footing with me even though the last thing that's happening is a loyal Malakoff 3.0. I'm not even going to delude myself with the fucking thought. Despite having Nick and I guess Ashley, I do feel very alone in this game. Most games I succeed in I have a partner in crime so I'm going to adapt and see how I can take on the merge. I really want Nick to know I trust him as much as I do and I hope that whoever survives of Chloe and Vi is excited to see us. That's if the merge is next and you're not playing with us... But I also hope that both Chloe and Vi survive this round but the break up of the challenge doesn't look good. Is there a chance they just fucking suck?

Being back at tribal is fucking hell. At this point just give us merge I stg id be more likely to be immune then. Honestly it feels like most of my tribe put ZERO FUCKING EFFORT into this challenge and I’m beyond angry about it they’re all fucking bastards and I’ll vote every single one of them out for doing this to me.

Thoughts on being at tribal - the coin flippers are staying strong and yet again we flipped a coin to see who goes home between Vi and Xander. This time there’s no Keaton to fuck things around so I’m hoping it stays this straight forward and there’s no genuine last minute scrambles. I don’t think anyone from the group has told Vi or Xander yet who the vote is but the coin flip gods decided Xander would be leaving us tonight. I just wanna fucking sleep. So yea no valid reason for voting Xander tonight other than it was down to a coin flip. Either way I’d be voting Xander and Vi out at merge anyway.

M E R G E U S 

I’m stupid and forgot to do this so I’m doing it from the bathroom at work pls don’t strike me I’ll give you detail when I get off sjhdjddh

Spoiler Alert: He never did send us details when he got off work.....

Hey, this tribe fucking sucks. they never talk about anything or want to do much. Like i had to beg people to do the call. and force that to happen. and I had to force a vote talk out of people.... Thats not my style of gameplay. I hate that im forced to do that. and just want out of this tribe ASAP. IM just hoping if i do survive and make it to merge. that my clever "talking" skills have earned me some credit in this tribe. where I have some allies. I do want to make it far and not just flop in this game. Especially when no one really knows me here and they can't target me because im in a duo with someone on the cast. @every other game i play. *glares at jess* 

Also Xander...

Part 2 electric boogaloo I really just want Alyssa to expose me. Like is that so hard. Also i forgot to mention in my last confessional that Jess had a booty call and they left their top there. 

IS IT MY TIME TO GO??????

Last round was pretty wild. I really did NOT want Sammy to go but unfortunately my hands were tied and he was with jared and pat. I kind of pushed for jared last round a little too much and Aidans ass told jared and he confronted me about it. I think i did a pretty good job at explaining why and basically it was like we both kind of went for eachother last round but now no one will think we are working together. My hope is that aidan and nick will be loyal and continue to work with me but i have a feeling jared is stilll trying to work on aidan and aidans ass is falling for it. Merge is probably coming up and im a little scared about that but if nick and aidan dont flop I think we can make it far.

So last round I played like peepee poopoo I should've just listened to Sammy like I told myself I would at the beginning of the round and voted Aidan... but the second I detect any shadiness even in a F2 or F3 person that's when the meltdown comes... it was like the Bryce situation all over again Not to mention Aidan two-timed me! But luckily it is still early enough in the game to recover from this, and I still have the high noon... I just need to hang onto that no matter what. So this round I centered back in on my round one gameplan, Aidan lost my trust and Dylan earned his 3rd strike with me by not having my back in the tribe chat. I've been bonding with NickG, and I made a deal with Ashley so I'm hoping that new doors will open for me on this tribe. With that being said, we won the challenge and honestly I couldn't care less about a merge any more, the farther away it is the better to be honest- I can have a 50/50 shot at making it one round further every time with tribal immunity. Another note, non-zero odds that Owen threw the challenge for me? We'll see.

Idk what day exactly the video title is specific of when I’m speaking from.

More Pat....