#fuck me this alt text is gonna take a while and is gonna go down in the read more

[ashleys-doodle-corner]

You got a new toy, “Crayons”!

So I stumbled on Meg’s Monster via an ad on my work laptop, played the demo and fell in love with it, before buying the game and finishing it within a day. This particular scene really jumped out at me, specifically when Roy turns around to stare at the drawings before answering. I’ve been really into doing comics lately, so I illustrated it!

[id under a read more because the old post editor does not allow alt text to be inputted; the post consists of 11 images]

[image id 1 start]: A cover of a comic page that is mostly white except for a lime green horizontal line passing through the middle. In the middle of that are three crayons of red, yellow and green. It seems to be selected. The caption reads "you got a new toy! 'crayons' - a comic by @ashleys-doodle-corner. spoilers ahead for Meg's Monster". [end image id 1]

[image id 2 start]: The first page of the comic. Panel 1: Roy approaches Meg who is offscreen as he speaks, eyes closed. "Okay, kiddo, time for bed-" Panel 2: There are impact lines from behind Roy as he yells "WAIT, WHAT THE HELL?!" Meg is drawing on the wall, though you can't see the drawing. Panel 3: Meg turns around and says "Look, Roy! I drew-" before being cut off by Roy shouting "WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOIN', KID?!" Panel 4: Meg frowns, facing Roy fully, and says "but you said-" before being cut off again by Roy, who shouts, "I DIDN'T SAY YOU COULD TRASH MY WALLS WITH WHATEVER THIS IS!". Panel 5: Nancy, suddenly bursting through the door into Roy's house, points dramatically and shouts "STOP RIGHT THERE!" Roy turns to look over his shoulder, scowling. [end image id 2]

[image id 3 start]: The second page of the comic. Panel 1: Nancy massages her forehead with one hand. She says, "You really don't have any idea how to be a parent, do you?" Panel 2: Roy glares down at her. He says "'scuse me?" Panel 3: Roy puts a clawed hand to his chest as he speaks, "you come bargin' into my house, and now you wanna lecture me?!" Nancy stares at him, arms crossed, unimpressed. Meg stares at Roy blankly. Panel 4: Nancy replies "o, just shut up and come here for a sec" as she gestures to a corner of the room. Meg and Roy look at her, though Roy stares at her with more of a frown. Panel 5: A shot of Roy and Nancy's feet as Nancy speaks, "now listen up..." [end image id 3]

[image id 4 start]: The third page of the comic. Panel 1: Nancy begins the start of her long winding speech, a finger in the air as she begins. She says, "When you discipline a child, you need to be VERY careful to not let your emotions take control." Roy interrupts, "Again, who the hell even ARE you?" She continues, "The goal is not to make the child fear you. It's to make them understand WHY what they did was unacceptable. Got it? I know it can be tricky at times but it's quite possibly the most important thing when it comes to a child's development". Roy grumbles. "Lady, seriously, I didn't ask". Panel 2: Some time has passed, and Nancy keeps going, "-and then another thing you want to be careful not to do is to never compare them to other children. When you do that, most kids tend to-" Roy mumbles, mostly to himself, "but I never did that though..." Panel 3: Nancy keeps going. Her speech bubble fades into the words- "-that being said, if you ever REALLY need to reprimand your child... like, for example, if they ever put their own life in danger, or hurt another child? In THOSE situations, yes, be stern, but also remember..." She continues to speak. The end of the page shows some darkened boxes to show more time passing. [end image id 4]

[image id 5 start]: The fourth page of the comic. Panel 1: Nancy crosses her arms, tilting her head as she finishes her speech. She says, "you got that?" Roy, though looking away, replies. "Y-Yeah, I think so." Panel 2: Nancy's eyes widen, eyes landing on something out of frame. Panel 3: Meg is asleep on the moss floor, her drawing behind her. Nancy speaks, "oh dear. I got a little carried away with that, didn't I?" Panel 4: Nancy crouches down, smiling with her hands in her lap. "What a cutie... teehee..." she giggles as she watches Meg sleep. Panel 5: Nancy tilts her head again as she speaks, the perspective changing to look at the drawings Meg made, which are child drawings of Roy, herself, and Golan. Nancy speaks, "and look at these drawings too..." [end image id 5]

[image id 6 start]: The fifth page of the comic. Panel 1: A closeup of Meg's doodle of Roy, coloured in red crayon. Nancy's dialogue drifts out of the comic panels. "They're awfully cute, don't you think? Here's you," Panel 2: A close up of Meg's doodle of herself. Nancy continues, "and that's her," Panel 3: A close up of Meg's doodle of Golan, as Nancy finishes her sentence. "-and is that supposed to be one of your friends?" Panel 4: Roy murmurs to himself, "She was trying to draw me...?" Panel 5: Roy looks down at Meg, who makes a small "mmgh..." Panel 6: Meg mumbles in her sleep, "I'm sorry for doodling on the walls, Roy..." Panel 7: She turns over to face the wall, as Nancy and Roy look over her. Panel 8: Nancy gets up and shoots a stern look at Roy. "Tomorrow, you're going to tell her that she did a very nice job," she says. "Got it?" Panel 9: Roy stares at Nancy, silent. Panel 10: Roy turns to look away, scoffing, but he says "... fine". [end image id 6]

[image id 7 start]: The sixth page of the comic. Panel 1: Nancy giggles, pressing a hand to her mouth. "Teehee... that's a good boy." She says. Panel 2: She turns, waving goodbye as she heads for the exit. Golan has appeared at the entryway, a bit confused at Nancy. Nancy pays him no mind as she speaks, "Okay then! You two play nice, now!" Panel 3: A bust shot of Roy, equally baffled as he speaks, "why the hell did she even come here in the first place..." Panel 4: Nancy hums to herself as she leaves, while Golan heads in, turning to look at her with a confused expression. Panel 5: Golan scratches his head, starting "Hey, man", before bleeding into Panel 6, where he turns to face the door, pointing. "Who was that chick just now?" Golan asks. "Since when have you been the sorta guy to bring women back to the house with you-" Roy, with a deadpan expression, instantly replies "dumbass, it ain't like that". Panel 7: Roy asks, "why are you here?". The shot is focused on Golan's back. Panel 8: The same pose as before, but Golan shifts his shoulders and tilts his head slightly downward. Panel 9: The same pose, but Golan turns his head slightly to the right, though not facing Roy. He says, "... well, I just figured Meg would probably be asleep by now". The page bleeds into dark at the bottom right of it. [end image id 7]

[image id 8 start]: The seventh page of the comic. Panel 1: Roy cocks an eyebrow, confused. Golan speaks, "... listen, man," Panel 2: Golan grips his arm bracelet, sweating a bit as he continues, "I was just thinkin', man..." Panel 3: A shot of Meg's head, as she sleeps. Golan says, "the girl's asleep, y'know..." Panel 4: A shot of Golan's side profile, not showing the eyes. Sweat drips from his chin, a hand gestured in front of him as he finishes, "this might be our chance!" Panel 5: Roy looks down at him, shadows framing the front of him. "To do what?' he asks. Panel 6: Golan is still facing away from him, the background of the panel getting darker. Panel 7: Golan looks downwards just a bit, in the same pose. "If we just kill her super quick while she's asleep..." he says, "Maybe nothin'll happen, y'know?" The page, continuing from the previous one, is greyed out before descending into black at the end of the page. [end image id 8]

[image id 9 start]: The eighth page of the comic. Panel 1: Roy stares down at Golan. A shadow is cast onto his face to his torso. He says nothing. Panel 2: Golan quickly turns around, speaking. "L-Look, I get it-" he starts. Panel 3: He gestures with two hands, flinging them upwards slightly. "You're probably getting cold feet about it, right?" He continues. Panel 4: Golan bows slightly, hand with the arm bracelet pressed to his chest. "But don't worry!" he says, "I'm willing to step up and do the deed." Panel 5: A shot of Golan's back as he faces Roy, on the other side of the panel, looking at him as Golan finishes, "Why don't you just go on a nice, long walk, somewhere far away?" The page fades from black to the top back to white again towards the bottom. [end image id 9]

[image id 10 start]: The ninth page of the comic. Panel 1 and 2: Roy stares at Golan, and Golan smiles back, sweating a little. Panel 3 and 4: Roy turns away to face the wall, before speaking, "... that's the dumbest idea, I've ever heard." Golan, in the same pose as before, deflates a little, losing his smile. Panel 5: Roy continues, still looking at the wall. "Quit talkin' nonsense and go get some sleep," he says. "You need it". Panel 6: Golan looks to the side, not knowing what to do. Panel 7: Golan fully turns around, one hand holding onto his other arm. "... yeah." he replies. "alright". The page is now fully white again the bottom.

[image id 11 start]: The end card of the comic. Roy continues staring at the wall with Meg's drawings of him, her, and Golan. Meg is still sleeping soundly next to it. The word at the corner of the frame reads "end."

[pricegouge]

Fatted Rabbit Part Six on AO3

Contents

Bearshifter!Price x reader | explicit

Simon stands behind the bar like some sort of massive, brooding Aeacus. As if they were always bound to meet here, and John was always bound to spill his secrets, and wasn't John such a stupid little twat for not having ever realized that before? It speaks volumes that not even Simon's shit eating grin puts a damper on John's mood.

A/N: texts are displayed as screen caps, but alt text is available. Warnings for John being a weirdo about Bunny menstruating, and for disparaging comments about Bunny's weight (not from John, obv)

Simon stands behind the bar like some sort of massive, brooding Aeacus. As if they were always bound to meet here, and John was always bound to spill his secrets, and wasn't John such a stupid little twat for not having ever realized that before?

It speaks volumes that not even Simon's shit eating grin puts a damper on John's mood.

"You're relieved, Riley."

"I'll say. Didn't even need to have a talk with 'er about curfews."

"Well, I know how you worry. It went well, by the way."

"Didn't ask. How'd you manage not to muck it up?"

"I got this excellent relationship coach that gave me some great ideas."

"You keep adding to my workload and I'm unionizing."

"Yeah?" John laughs, "You and who?"

"That new barkeep seems easily impressionable."

"Mm. That what got your stamp of approval?"

Oh, it's always a good day when John can pry a real reaction from his head brewer. Simon doesn't squint, but there's a tightening around his eyes that suggest he would do, if he suffered such banal things as 'automatic response disinhibition.'

"Am I gonna need to sit you down with the harassment video again, Riley?"

"Don't technically work at the bar, cap. One Four One pays my bills." He's aiming for a sarcastic 'so what if I am,' lands slightly off center.

"Good point. You been putting a lot of thought into it?"

The pause is a half a beat too long. "Too busy thinkin' about having to cover my boss's shifts while 'e flits about with some young bird like 'e's in uni again."

"Aye. Gonna need you to do it again on Sunday, too."

"Sunday?" Simon barks. "You're training on Sunday."

"No, you're training on Sunday. By the time I get here he'll probably be good to go."

Now he does squint. "And if I got plans?"

"You'd've mentioned them first. Thanks, Si. I owe you one."

"You owe me the business at this point."

"Already in my will and testament."

"Mm. Keep trying your luck and I'll take what's owed sooner'n later."

***

Simon stays on to cook, a blessing considering it ends up being a decent Friday turnout. The early spring seems to be pulling in more than just the locals. John resolutely does not put on the hockey match he knows his rabbit's interested in because he doesn't want to listen to Simon's opinion on that, but he does watch the ticker tape at the bottom of the basketball commentary to monitor the score when he can. He's not sure why; he can't exactly participate in any informed conversation on the subject, but it seems like it'll be a good anecdote to know when they're skating.

Fuck, skating. He'd been a few times in his life and it had all been perfectly fine, but he usually sleeps right through the season so it's not something he's practiced in a while. He doesn't want to make an ass of himself, even if the rabbit had the same concerns. It's embarrassing enough being as twiggy as he is currently, he couldn't stand to be uncoordinated or in any way less physical in her eyes. He remembers how raptly she'd watched that match, the ways her eyes had tracked the men on screen. He hadn't found it in any way threatening at the time, but he doesn't want to be compared negatively to them. The fact that they're professional doesn't matter, of course, at least not to the beast in his chest.

John shoots her a sympathetic text when the team she'd been following loses (again. He's going to have to figure out how playoffs work here, the basketball announcers are even talking about multiple games) but he doesn't get a response until quite late, when he's on the roof enjoying a cigar after closing.

Christ, another game?

John damn near preens

He'd rather buy her those panels but he doesn't think she'd let him. More than that he'd rather drive her car into Whitefish Lake, but he supposes she'd be a little cross about that, too.

John nearly bites through his cigar. It's an honest struggle to force his bear back under his skin, the animal not fully understanding that such a challenge could be issued through miles of suburban landscape and a thirty foot drop off a roof. Much as he wants her here (on her knees between his thighs, mouth hot and wet through the fabric of his trousers as he shoves a boot under her cunt, preferably), it's probably a good thing she isn't because he doesn't want her on all fours their first time, his jaws clamped on the nape of her neck as he leans his full weight on her, trapping her big soft body between the mass of himself and the cold hard ground, uncaring if the whole city heard her whining, or screaming, or begging, or moaning. He wants to see her face as he fucks her, learn what she likes or doesn't. He wants to eat her out as if she's the only food he'll need for winter - until she's crying about how she has nothing left to give and then he wants to lick her tears up, too.

But right now the only thing he wants from her is her round arse presented in apology, the feel of her flesh between his teeth.

It's a struggle to be witty when your body is trying to prime you for both a fight and a fuck at the same time and your circulatory system feels like the Magic Roundabout, so John doesn't bother.

And that's -. Fuckin' -.

Just like that, she's got him back to heel. More pup than predator, eager to beg for treats from her hands. A brat he can handle; even his bear seems greedy at the prospect. If her challenges aren't in earnest - if she's simply trying to get a rise out of him because she wants him to fuck her hard, he's more than happy to allow it. Happy to let his bear take over and give her what she wants.

Fuck, he's hard. A green cub, can't even distinguish rational thought and animalistic impulses. No, she's not asking for an actual bear in human skin to take her to task, Christ. He needs circulation back to his brain STAT. And to think this all started with a Viagra joke.

***

Saturday is a lesson in patience. He feels unmoored, confused. A bit like standing in a cold stream waiting for the salmon run to leap into his mouth, weeks before they're due to arrive. There is so much to do. His rut looms in the distance like a sundog: a beautiful, bad omen. He should be preparing. Securing his mate, improving his den, padding his own body, ensuring she's equipped to carry both herself and his cubs through the winter.

Instead he's lying to QuickBooks about where his head brewer worked this week and hosing off beer mats, listening to some old coot veer dangerously close to homophobic remarks about the lesbian couple who own the boot shop across the way. It sets John's teeth on edge, makes him snappy. He spills the man's third beer across his lap as he hands it off and gets even more irritated when it only garners benevolent absolution. He wants a fight. Wants a fuck even more. Is turning in circles knowing he won't get either any time soon. Simon doesn't stop by, doesn't offer himself as a verbal, pricker-covered punching bag. The rabbit never texts. John would give his left eye to eat a porcupine right now, feel the satisfaction of the kill and the anger of his prey, both.

He closes shop early, finds his way to the edge of town. He hardly even bothers to hide his clothes in a sparse, budding green thicket before he's on all fours, lumbering off into the woods. Her scent has been growing stronger for him. In his human form, he can usually smell her from across town but like this, snout high in the air as he sifts through the noxious scent of the other humans in town, he can track her clear up to Lake McDonald. It's soothing, usually: the sweetness of the simple foods she eats, the saltiness of her skin. Her cunt. But it's sour tonight, distressed and distressing. He sets off in a blind panic.

He's nearing the Flathead when it hits him properly and he slows, relief and understanding washing over him. Poor rabbit, she's nearing her monthlies. He can smell it now, the stink of her discomfort and the impending blood. No wonder he was so off kilter all day. It speaks to the quality of their bond that he can already sense these things. Means when his rut comes around, she'll likely be impacted too, which sets his mouth watering. Although -.

If their bond was really that strong, she wouldn't be menstruating. Waste of bloody resources. A stupid fucking design flaw he could cure her of.

With a proper bond or a cub, whichever came first.

She's not parked in a proper camp tonight, just tucked away on a four wheel path safe from the main road. He considers not disturbing her for all of thirty seconds before he starts chuffing and sniffing like a hog around her wheel wells. He hears her shuffling about and then her little curtain moves and she beams at him.

"That you, big guy?"

John lowers at her and she pulls her screen down properly to get a better look. He doesn't raise himself half onto her roof this time, just remains on all fours and lifts his head enough to peer back at her.

"You know, we have to stop meeting like this. People will talk." For once, John doesn't think he'd mind. As if to test that theory, she shuffles around a bit and John sees her pull her phone out of the center console to power it up. She was supposed to get battery back ups today. Part of the reason he was so irritable; he'd wanted to speak with her. But if even he was feeling so completely out of it, he can't imagine she cared very much about a trip to the store herself. He waits patiently for her phone to power up. She keeps an eye on him, but he just continues to puff foggy breaths onto her window, unbothered. Eventually she tells him to say cheese and he makes a soft noise at her that makes her grin.

"I never knew bears could moo," she teases and John sneezes at her in annoyance which only makes her giggle. Christ, an honest giggle. She's so fucking cute he could squeeze her til she popped.

"I think that's my favorite noise you make. Though the huffs are pretty cute too." So John does it again, just to show off. "Yeah, that one! Gonna have to do some studying, figure out what those all mean. Just suppose I'm lucky you haven't roared at me yet."

Don't worry bunny, he'd never.

She putz around on her phone and John wonders how many people she's sending the picture to. He's being careless, he knows, but it's worth it to see her - to ensure she's thinking of him, even if she doesn't know it. She holds her stomach absently as she types and after a few moments her face scrunches and she winces, curling in on herself a bit more. When it passes, she eyes him with mock suspicion. "That why you're here, big guy? The bears can smell the menstruation!" That last bit is said in an affected voice, probably a reference to something he's too British to understand. "Thought that was a myth?"

It is, clever rabbit. For all but you.

She hasn't actually started yet, he doesn't think. Poor lamb will likely start right as they're due to meet at the rink. He wonders if she'll cancel. He's already making contingency plans, wondering if she'll let him take care of her or if she'll make excuses and leave him to figure out how to both pretend he doesn't know what's really going on and also make it clear she's allowed to ask him for help with it.

"Well, periods are a curse enough as it is. It's not fair that god sends his cuddliest looking creatures out to kill us, too. You look like an industrial size heating pad and the world's biggest spoon all rolled up in the fuzziest weighted blanket imaginable. You're a frickin' cure all come to kill me. Tease!"

Oh, he's the luckiest man to ever walk the earth. She's so perfect, already warmed up to his bear, no coaxing required. Soon, honey. You can cuddle up to his beast anytime you want. He can't help the constant chuffing noises her spiel has earned; or the way he presses against her car as if he can transfer some of his heat through the metal. He'd been struggling to keep his impulses in check all day, but in this form it's even harder. He's split between the elation of her accepting this form and the frustration that she won't let him help her. He wants to turn back right here, let her see, ferret her out of her den and let her use his body to cure her ails in whatever way she sees fit.

"You're so cute though, I guess I can forgive you," she continues, and it's a struggle to keep his grunting noises in check enough that he can still hear her. "You know, I told my friend about you. He said the bears around here can be pretty well socialized because it's such a high traffic area. You got other girls you're seeing on the side?"

Never, bunny, he snorts, never again.

"I promise I won't be offended. We can keep it casual." She puts on an overly breezy air, being silly. "I mean like, cause they're not like feeding or petting you either, right? Like, you're not… getting that from any girl at all, right?" A beat. John tries to play along by looking as contrite as a bear possibly can. "You whore!" she gasps, "Who is she?"

His response is to stand and lean against her car, ducking his head to nod at her.

"Mmm, nice recover. You know if you really wanted to make it up to me, you'd stop scraping my paint." Admonished, Price lowers himself back to the ground. The rabbit eyes him suspiciously. "I swear, sometimes it feels like you can understand me. Are you a circus escapee? Do you know any tricks?" She pauses, as if waiting. "Can you speak?"

Fuck it, John gives her a halfhearted, rumbling roar.

She laughs, delighted. "How about lay down? You know that one?"

And that sounds like a great idea so he does, makes himself comfortable with his belly on the muddy trail.

"What about roll over?" She asks, voice soft with apprehension; unfortunately, twice is a coincidence but three times is a pattern. John ignores her command in favor of chewing at the pads of his forepaw and after a moment, the rabbit breathes out a heavy, chuckling sigh.

"Might be going a bit batty, spending all my time alone," she mutters. Louder, she tells him, "I think you've got the right idea about getting comfy, though. I'm turning in. You staying there? You'd make some guard dog."

John just rolls his eyes to her and huffs.

"Right. Well, goodnight. Please be gone when I wake up so I can pee without fear." He snorts at her and she chuckles in response, shifting her weight around the car enough to make it rock a bit. She doesn't put her privacy screen back up, he notes with some frustration. He'll have to stay until the early hours just to be sure she's safe, but he doesn't mind. He's been tempted to spend every night exactly like this since he first spotted her rubbing herself raw in the early spring dawn. He's just happy to know she doesn't seem too freaked out by his presence.

***

Sunrise finds him fishing his damp clothes out of the bush he'd hastily tucked them into the night previous. They make for an unpleasant trip back, but he's warmed by a missed text from his bunny: a picture of himself captioned 'Think I made a new friend'.

She'd been asleep when he'd left her but even still, John cannot help replying right then and there.

***

John is leaning against his passenger door when he spots her big Wrangler pulling in and he makes his way to her with enough time to offer a hand as she slides out of the car. He maybe stands a bit too close, appreciating the way her thick, soft thighs rub briefly against his own as he helps guide her gracefully to the ground.

She's got on leggings and tall socks with converse and a thin henley under a worn denim jacket. She's so cute he wants to throw her in the back of her Jeep right then and give the suspension a run for its money. Compounding his dilemma is the strong scent of her monthlies evident through the thin material of her trousers. It's weak enough he doubts anyone else will notice, but the scent of the iron rich blood has his teeth itching.

Plus it's upsetting to be slapped in the face with such strong evidence that their bond isn't fully formed.

Despite his turmoil, John smiles at her warmly and kisses her on the cheek in greeting, making her blush.

"Good to see that bear didn't make off with you. Not sure I could win that particular fight."

She laughs as they make their way inside, "I don't know, he seems more of a lover than a fighter. You could probably win him over with some berries or something."

"So then I'd have to share both you and my food? I gotta run this bloke out of town." John can feel the rabbit eyeing him suspiciously, weighing the quality of his words. He, of course, doesn't flinch; simply holds the door open and guides her through with a palm on her lower back.

He's hoping she'll tell him he doesn't need to worry about sharing her, but it seems that's a bit much to expect from a casual second date. She motions to the door he's held for her instead. "See? And here you were worried about not being a gentleman."

John's laugh is a mean, hot puff of breath. "There's still time," he warns, standing too close.

He helps her into her cute little skates, lets her use his body to keep herself upright as they stand in the carpeted hallway waiting on the zamboni to finish up. He's maybe a little swept up in the domesticity of it, surrounded as they are by other couples and families with small kids. 'Stanley Cup hopefuls,' the rabbit calls them, and John nearly goes weak in the knees imagining her bringing his cubs back here one day, decked out in her team's colors. He stands too close but she doesn't seem to mind; and when he kisses her on the crown of her head and keeps his lips there, she just leans a little more into him and he sighs in contentment. And when the doors finally open, he is treated to the absolute delight of watching his rabbit trying to figure out how to keep her feet under herself, laughing all the while.

The crowd is a mix of old hats just trying to stay limber; pesky children who rocket by, trying hard as they can to get under feet and trip people up; and landlubbin' newbies like them. It's good, sweet. Gives John an excuse to keep his hands on his rabbit, and seems to take her mind off her cramps, if the way her sweat turns from acrid with stress to good clean salt is anything to go by. It would be perfect, John decides, if not for a pair of twenty-something boys that linger, skating big ambling circles around John and his girl. They're casual, keep their eyes mostly to themselves, but John is already on edge and something about their presence makes him want to stand his ground.

Of course, he can't quite do that when the whole point of free skate appears to be 'skate in a circle'.

"Might've had it wrong, bunny," John grins as he gets his hand around her thick waist for the dozenth time, catching her just as her right foot goes slipping out in a direction she didn't authorize. "Think you're more of a Bambi than a thumper."

"With these thighs?" she jokes, slapping her quad for effect.

John doesn't bother to hide the hunger that elicits in him. He's about to give her a tiny little smack of his own when -,

"Nice catch, man. Way to take one for the team."

"Yeah, they'll have to bring the zamboni back out if she goes down."

John is distantly aware of his rabbit going stiff and quiet, her gaze drifting somewhere down by her feet. He keeps hold of her arm but it's more an instinctual comfort than a conscious decision, as all his higher brain function is dedicated to not growing fangs between which to trap these boys.

"They'll have to bring it back out if I use your teeth like an auger, too." John's voice is low. Possibly too low to be strictly human. It gets the point across anyway. The twiggy twats who have been circling like sharks all morning take one look at him and decide they have severely misread the depth of his feelings for the soft girl they've targeted. Finding no easy prey here, they mumble an apology (to John, the gits, not his rabbit) and dart off to pester a gaggle of teenage girls. John draws himself even closer to his girl, waits until he's certain he can control his voice better. "Fucking bellends. Sorry about them. You okay, honey?"

"Yeah, it's fine. Thanks for that. Sorry I clammed up, I can usually fight my own battles."

John scoffs, unamused. "No need, sweetheart. Unless you'd rather, of course. Actually, sorry if I overstepped. Knee jerk reaction."

"Oh, no, trust me, you're fine. Not mad at all." Her breath is soft, nearly amused, and John can't help but feel a little proud at having turned her mood around so quickly.

"Do you want to go do something else?"

"And let them know they bothered me? Absolutely not."

John grins, hums appreciatively. "That's my girl." His grin only widens when she blushes at the term.

They talk about their hometowns when they're not busy stumbling. John tells her about Hereford and his mom, and she tells him how similar this area is to where she grew up. She deflects a bit when asked about her family and John doesn't pry. He wishes she would tell him everything, of course, but can't help being a tiny bit selfishly pleased at the knowledge there's no tight knit family waiting for her back home. He tries asking about Dallas instead but the answers she provides are stiff and rehearsed, and her body language locks up so much it negates the small progress she's made in her skating abilities. John quickly moves on to film preferences and she's quick to loosen back up (she likes period dramas and high fantasy and isn't immune to a night in with a kid's movie).

Eventually her discomfort seems to catch up with her and John thinks he has the unique experience of realizing she will need to make a sanitary run to the bathroom before she does. He debates how best to handle it for exactly thirty seconds before his mouth is moving.

"Do you want to go get lunch?"

The rabbit stops, turning to face him fully. Well, John stops. She grabs his coat sleeve and tries to convert her momentum into a quick u-turn. It's mostly successful in that John has to swing an arm around her back to keep her upright. It's extremely successful in that the momentum carries her right on through and into his chest, where he keeps her pinned tight just because she seems quite content there. "You don't have to work?"

John shrugs, knowing Simon may well quit. "What's the point in being the boss if I can't bang in late every now and again?"

"I guess, but you don't want to -?"

Whatever she's about to suggest is interrupted by the very loud sound of John's stomach growling.

"Oh so that was more a cry for help than a suggestion?" the rabbit laughs, cute little nose scrunching up.

"I may be bloody famished, yeah."

"Oh, poor pumpkin. What are you feeling, then?" she asks as she heads off toward the exit, confident as she skates out of his arm's reach.

"Burgers. Maybe steak. Or lamb." Really, he wants an entire barrel of fish and perhaps some apples, but he wants to feed his poor little mate a mouthful of iron supplements more.

"It's lunch time," she laughs at him.

"Burgers, then?"

"Yeah, alright." He helps lower her onto the hall carpet and squats to help her with her laces. "You don't have to do that," she tells him but he just shakes his head at her.

"Want to." She's quiet after that, perhaps a little contemplative. She excuses herself while he returns the skates and when she comes back she smells like the fake, perfumed chemical they coat feminine products in which always sticks to his nose.

Honestly, cunt is supposed to smell like cunt. Even when it smells like a bloody cunt. Humans are fucking ridiculous.

"Hope you know I'm driving you there," John informs as he holds the door for her yet again.

"That doesn't even make any sense," his rabbit laughs. "You're gonna drive me all the way back here before going into work?"

"Might do. Or: new bartender starting today. Might let you be his guinea pig all evening."

"Oh yeah? You trying to loosen my morals?" Her tone is light and airy but something has shuttered behind her eyes.

"No," John's voice is confident but quietly reassuring. "I'm trying to get you all lushed and cute tonight and then maybe try my hand tomorrow when you're charmed and impressed by the breakfast I make. How well you handle a hangover depending," he tacks on with a teasing little wink.

She blinks once, twice.

"That okay?"

"No. Well, yes, but uh -. It's not a good... time."

John just cocks his head at her, knowing full well what she means but needing to hear her say it so he has an excuse to spoil her.

The rabbit sighs, "It's just -. Christ this is embarrassing. If that's your end goal you should maybe know I'm on my period. Just so you don't get your hopes up too much."

"Oh, poor lamb." John's smile is wolfish, the cat that got the cream. "And here I've had you on your feet all morning. Do you want to get lunch? Or would you rather just curl up? I can make you something if you'd rather not stay out."

"No, that's - um. Lunch sounds good, thank you, but uh -. You're not… mad?"

A beat. John's smirk slides slowly off his face. "Mad?"

"I mean, if that was your plan and I'm… you're not upset?"

"No, honey…" John's not entirely sure how to handle this turn. Logistically he knows the first step should be reassurance, but there's a desperate, cloying, insightful little creature in his chest that wants to push all these niceties aside and demand why she would think he was mad. "A man can dream, but I had no expectations. There's nothing to be mad about." She gives him a wan smile and he can't help but continue, "In fact, I oughta give you my mum's number. I ever seem mad about that, you go ahead and tell her to sort me out."

It works, the quiet giggle she lets out has a touch too much relief for his taste, but he'd take that over whatever the hell misplaced anxiety she'd just been exhibiting.

"Can chastise you myself, you know. No mum's needed."

"Oh thank God. Would way rather you do it. She can be proper scary."

"And I can't?"

"Rabbits aren't scary. You ever yell at me, it won't be fear makes me change my ways."

"Not scary? They don't make kids sit on the Easter bunny's lap back home? I still gotta steer clear of malls this time of year."

John grins again, can't help the mental image she's conjured of him having to scare off a man in a pink bunny suit for her. "So I'll have to wait at least a month to spoil you with a shopping trip, noted."

She splutters. "You don't have to do that ever!"

He shrugs, "Told you, want to. Now get in, I'm hungry enough I'd eat you if you held still long enough." When she blanches, scandalized, he can't help but grin.

"Okay, yeah, let's go. But -."

John resolutely doesn't let his smile drop lest she thinks he's mad again, but he can't help the punched out feeling her continued protests elicit.

"- if I'm spending the night, I do definitely need to drive the Jeep to a more anonymous parking lot. That thing gets towed, I'm screwed."

Yes, it sure would be a shame if someone hobbled her speedy little den before she realized she belonged with him. Still, "I'll tell you what. You keep letting me treat you to lunches and dinners and whatever other little excursions we can come up with and I'll let you park at the bar whenever you'd like, hm?"

"What, so I can deal with the noisy neighbors?"

"Have it on good authority the second floor's pretty well sound proofed. You can hang your hat up there if it ever bugs you," he winks. "But fine, go get your bloody buggy. I'll send you the address, yeah?"

Next>>

[beansprean]

My Familiar’s Ghost part 14

I love Derek and his animevision. Someone pls play super Mario sunshine with him.

Masterpost

(ID in alt and under cut)

1a. Close up of Derek in profile, sans glasses, slams back-first into a concrete wall with force enough to crack the stone into spiderwebbing chunks, grimacing in pain. 1b. Zoom out, Derek is being held up and against the wall by Nandor, who has his fists balled in the collar of his shirt. Eyes wide and snarling in rage an inch from Derek’s face, Nandor yells “Where is Guillermo?!” Derek stares back in anxious fear and holds onto his arms, anime tee stretched up to expose his stomach. 1c. Close up of Derek from the front, pinned to the cracked wall by Nandor’s fists in his shirt, one hand gripping Nandor’s forearm and the other waving in what he hopes is a calming manner. Looking nervously up and away, Derek responds, “Okay, okay! Man, chill out! I didn’t do anything! I mean I did, but like, nothing he didn’t ask for… What was I gonna do, say no to a guy who smells like that? I-“ 1d. Shot from over Derek’s shoulder, showing Nandor as a shadowy silhouette with burning white eyes, shaking with anger as he looms increasingly menacingly over Derek. Derek squints past Nandor to Colin standing behind him, who is shaking his head with wide eyes and waving his hand under his chin in a “cut it out” gesture. Comprehending, Derek changes course: “Uh, okay. Here’s what happened.”

2a. A big thought bubble from Derek starts off in a 90s shoujo anime style, showing a demure Guillermo opening his collar down to his chest and baring his throat, long eyelashes casting shadows on his cheeks and surrounded by sparkles and shoujo bubbles. 2b. A serious and suave anime Derek caresses Guillermo’s throat with his fingers, and Guillermo obediently bends his neck back for easier access. 2c. A close up on anime Derek’s mouth as he bares his fangs, ready to strike. Voiceover from present Derek reads: “We came back here, and he asked me to bite him…and then…” 2d. Back to regular drawing style, shot over Derek’s shoulder as he sinks his fangs into Guillermo’s neck. Immediately, there erupts a high pressure spout of blood shooting directly into the air. Guillermo’s eyes snap open wide. 2e. Derek pulls back, chin covered in blood, panicking and trying to cover Guillermo’s actively squirting wound with his hand as he shrieks “Oh G- oh, shit! What did I-“ Frustrated and angry, Guillermo snaps, “You hit an artery, you idiot!” Derek: “What do I do?! Oh fuck, you’re gonna die!” 2f. Guillermo: “Derek, you’re a vampire! That’s what-“ Derek: “Oh, right .” Guillermo sighs and grabs the back of Derek’s head, shoving his face back to his throat to stem the flow as saying “Oh, for! Put your mouth- just drink!” 2g. The flashback picks up again a little later, a sickly-looking Guillermo leaning against the wall of the storage unit drinking Derek’s blood from a plastic water bottle. His entire left side is coated in blood, as is the rear corner of the storage unit and Derek’s chin and front. Derek is standing by his coffin and gesturing to it awkwardly. Present Derek’s voiceover continues: “The transformation takes a while, I guess, so I offered my coffin for him to use. But I guess he had a place in mind already.” 2h. Reverse shot of Guillermo, looking very gray, as he stares incredulously at Derek and says, “I’m gonna go die somewhere…cleaner. In the foreground, Derek responds, “Ouch, dude.” The flashback ends.

3a. Back in the present, shot from behind Nandor as he lets Derek go, hair hiding his face as he shakes all over. Derek lifts one hand in a shrug and says “I assumed he went home, but… I guess not? I’m sure he’s fine, though, he never answers my texts anyway! Probably out there vamping it up!” 3b. Zoom out at the same angle, Nandor having turned on his heel and walked away, brushing past Colin and the viewer with a flap of his cloak. Colin turns to watch him stalk off with a concerned expression. Derek, generally incapable of reading a room, waves after him and calls out “Oh, uh, when you find Guillermo, let him know I have a switch now!” 3c. Zoom out further, beyond the storage unit, as Colin follows after Nandor without a word, leaving Derek standing alone in front of a severely cracked wall, hand still lifted hesitantly in a wave. Frowning, he trails off “If he ever…wants to play…” /end ID

[dullahandyke]

yippee yippee yippee yippee eimear con haul!!!!

Hi. It was my birthday recently and I'm bad to shop for so instead of gifts I got money to spend at Kaizokucon. So here's a haul. Under the cut bcos I couldnt fit it nicely in one picture and I wanna ramble

ok we're gonna take it one picture at a time ^_^ the ID in the alt text explains what everything is if u just wanna see what i got without the rambling sure to come with it. links in rambling r to the artists of the fan stuff where i can find em ^_^ only one of them is a direct link to the product tho bcos some ppls shops r down and some ppl dont have all their stuff online. lemons_arent_green youre a real one

Ok the flat stuff!!! black rock shooter poster bcos i already have a figure but i liek her... badass anime girl ily.... was so so sure i saw a reigen keychain but when i went to go get one there weren't any so i got this sticker sheet instead :3 SPEAKING OF KEYCHAINS!!! yippee yippee kaguya i love you youre my special little tiempsy. yue you are a gay anime boy with a cool design. tomoyo ive always felt a kinship with you and its because im a desperate dyke. monokuma is here ig 🙄 i put him on my carabiner and hes fun to stim with. i am not immune to the sdr2 fanboying. also full disclosure ive not watched naruto (its in the spreadsheet) i just thought funko pop sasuke keychain was really really funny. my son who stares into my soul. comparatively i dont have as much to say on the badges!! luka luka fever for real girlie ily. the bandori ones were blind bags and i got himari on my first try <3<3<3<3<3<3 sorry eve i kind of dont care. 🙁 the dr girlies i kinda picked at random based on who i've been vibing w lately.

THE POKEMON DIORAMA!!!! its soooo cool, staff were setting up the trade hall so i was in there all day friday and this shop was one of the first to set up their stands and i was literally staring at it all day... so fucking awesome. the rings n the necklace r from the same shop look at them... im fucking obsessed w the catgirl necklace. literally look at her. i dont thiiink shes supposed to be a specific character but she might be. oh well. cat girl ily. aaaand the arisa stand is actually a little clip for papers n stuff!! she was also a blind box but specifically for popipa so i was gonna b happy w whoever <3

MIIIIKUUUUUU MY PRINCESS MY EVERYTHING!!!!! she was calling to me she beckoned..... shes actually rlly big irl shes the biggest figure i have, replacing my kokoro one... shes the one where i audibly said 'it was my birthday i can buy things' bcos figures spencey... she wasnt too bad actually i just like bitching. 6 euro axel for scale

BOOKS 💥💥💥 i was reading nana a while back and i dropped it but i gotta pick it up again... rlly pretty and awesome... aaaand the summer hikaru died!!! kay if youre seeing this then know you posting abt it convinced me <3 i originally got it bcos i was on door duty in a quiet area and didnt wanna spend my time draining battery life on my phone but after i bought it i realised that that was literally a terrible idea so <3 we'll get around to them soon

FINALLLYYYYYY TSHIRTS!!! the top yellow one was my staff t-shirt, it has 'staff' on the back i was wearing it all weekend and yippee i love it.... emotional bond.... and if this is a safe space can i just say. if kaito was a woman? would. next up FAYE FUCKIN VALENTINEEEE!!! do u remember that post i made going thru all the sellers that were gonna b at the con that started like 'i hate shounen fans. name a woman'? well this is the seller i was talking about but all was forgiven in the name of FAYE ! GODDAMN ! VALENTINE ! ugh i love you girlie. and the last t-shirt was given out free to staff after the closing ceremony!! it was the tenth anniversary of kaizokucon so we got this awesomes design yay.... wore it to classes today hoping somebody would comment on it and nobody did 😌and in the middle i got CLOW CARRRDS BITCHES!!!!!! i saw them and immediately all thought left my fucking brain. i needed them. so important. the seller also recognised the axel in my fanny pack yippee!!!! a few people recognised him over the weekend actually and i was always like yes!! the him

anyway. yippee! yippee! yippee! yippee! yippee! yippee! yippee! yippee! yippee! con con con con con :)

[paranormeow7]

this post is late and idk if the hypes died down but i have THOUGHTS on catalyst (SPOILERS AHEAD)

okay alright we'll go scene by scene here sorry if any of these have been debunked or anything THIS IS GONNA BE SUCH INCOMPREHENSIBLE WORD VOMIT SORRY

who was watching that tv and where. i mean im pretty sure it was in mandela or maybe werksha. did they lift the television and mirror destruction act?? and that blank face that showed up. was that six?? also, SAINT GABRIELS CHURCH. OH MY GOD. apparentely no one goes anymore (most likely due to religion being shown to lead to MAD), which makes me wonder why dave even believed "o'brien" when he said he'd had a job there, if the place was pretty much abandoned anyways.

okay next up the hospital scene. oh my godddd. i think maybe the whereabouts of daves eyes will be important later, since they went out of their way to report that they couldnt recover them. and his brain?? can alts like, liquefy your brain now???? what the fuck happened????? maybe we'll get to see. also these nurses. they could be important, maybe, maybe not. also, we also now know that most of mandela's population have migrated to werksha (depsite there also being alt activity there i think), which i believe will be the county we'll be getting to see next.

chat logs with sarah and evelin my favorite girlbosses!!! apparently adam hasn't been talking to anyone for a while (most likely because of the Horrors, maybe since his talk with six) and eve is worried. she already seemed pretty sus about him in vol4, asking him to talk to her, which as far as i know he never did, and especially after she found his TSA results. based on whether or not you think she died in the MCPD station that day, these logs can either take place before or after she paid her visit. Sarah doesn't seem to think anything is wrong, despite it being implied that she hasn't been able to reach him either. either she's lying for whatever reason or she genuinely doesn't really know what's been going on with him. what is her MOTIVE??

TEASER SCENE. this could take place either before or after vol4, but i also believe this could be the "fight" eve was talking about in Jonah's memorial video, where he said some "terrible, awful" things that she "wished he had never told her". she may be afflicted with MAD. it seems that she visited his house at some point and met Preacher ("ADAM WHO IS THAT??"), who may have been using his voice to lure her in. There's been a fuck ton of theories on Preacher and it's connection to Adam, with some people saying it's his overdriven form. Idk how that could work seeing as they seem to be seperate entities, but WHO KNOWS??

WAKE UP THATCHER, I AM YOUR INTUITION. this is the same red text associated with Gabriel, who in vol 4 shared his intentions to kill Thatcher. Was getting him to follow the screams he heard (idk how since he seems to live decently far off from the BPS house) Gabriel's way of attempting to do that?? Also, the return of Gabe telling people to "wake up." Why the hell would Thatcher follow this voice?? just to get away from the alts in his home, or to try and get back a semblance of his old life as a respected lieutenant? Or as some kind of suicide mission, perhaps. (OUGH.)

the next scene. OH DEAR GOD THE NEXT SCENE. ARGHSFHJFS (GOES FERAL). strap in this'll be a long one. This is where Thatcher goes to the house. I noticed how the radio got more and more fucked up the closer he got before it just stopped working, which could be due to alt activity, or i could just be grasping at straws here. He notices the BPS van, which, why would that just be sitting outside the house in plain sight if the BPS are literally wanted by the FBI??? This could be the house they all lived in, or just Adam's house, but when he goes inside it is TRASHED. there is shit just strewn around EVERYWHERE and i may be misremembering but i think thatch steps on broken glass?? anyways he makes his way into the bedroom (which looks to be the same room Eve met Preacher in) and sees Adam sitting beside the bed in a pile of trash (INCLUDING AN EMPTY BOTTLE OF BLEACH that he DRANK, meaning the rest of the trash might be remnants of other attempts), next to a mirror (with a very fucked up reflection, i might add), looking catatonic. This is the guy he's been hunting down for stealing government property and fucking with alternates and BOY has he seen better days.

There is a tape playing called "the fate of the jester", pretty much describing his situation to a T. It describes the loss of humanity to becoming "just a cog in the machine", and no longer being "the hero of the story". Theres a LOT of different interpretations for this, such as him "waking up" and losing himself to his alternate nature, although he's obviously trying to fight it. Throughout the series he was brought up as a very important character, as a tie between the humans and the alternates, even possibly being the "mandela prophet" described at the end of vol4. If he was being set up as such an important character, this may signify the loss of the Mandela's last hope (maybe, idk lol). There's a lot of moments to fall back on in this scene, such as in vol2 when Gabe told him to "wake up" and "don't make me wake the others" (the other kidnapped children turned alternate sleeper agents i believe), the memorial video in vol4 where he screams for something to "please just get the fuck out of my head", the death of his mother in intruder alert, and his talk with Six, which may have been the start of his spiral, and when he began to isolate himself. Anyways, SUSPECT IDENTIFIED there's your FBI wanted tortured blonde man!!

SCREAMING. THE MOST HORRIFIC TORTURED SCREAMING YOUVE EVER HEARD. JUST SO MUCH SCREAMING. Adam still seems pretty much paralyzed though, which could be from a number of things, maybe all the shit he just did to himself, maybe the FUCKING BLEACH?? idk. his eyes also seemed to have turned black (possibly signifying the beginning of overdriven assimilation)?? im still wondering why Gabriel sent Thatcher here, seeing as i dont think he died, like Gabe said he would to Dave. Did he want Adam or possibly Preacher to kill him? Adam can barely even MOVE, let alone kill anyone. Maybe he wanted him to try and kill himself, at the sight of yet another person he couldn’t save (AGAIN, OUGH.) Adam stops screaming for a little bit to BEG FOR SOMEONE TO KILL HIM before going straight back to screaming, which then dies down into tortured sobs (someone save him…). This was confirmed in a patreon discord server I believe. My opinion is that this is a sign that he doesn’t want any of this and that he never had any bad intentions (or at least didn’t have TOO many bad intentions). IDKKKK ive been rambling way too much- AGHHH IM JUST SO INSANE ABT THIS EPISODE IDK HOW TO END THIS LONG ASS POST THANKS FOR READING BYEEE

[stubborn-society]

Scarlet House

Photo Credit: Kameron Odums

Everyone was saying, you gotta get on TikTok. It’s the place to see new artists get their break. Not everyone is going to find their audience there, but you still have to be there, blah, blah, blah. What does this have to do with me? I thought TikTok couldn’t possibly be a place for anyone with any kind of taste. But I was curious how pop star wannabes and study beats producers promoted their music on the weird kiddie app. I also thought hey, everyone’s pressuring me to get on here, I’ll shoot some nonsense into the void, too.

Pro tip: TikTok is fucking incredible. I’m really impressed (and occasionally annoyed) with the way communities form and function on it. And if you’re really into music, it’s really fun. Almost too fun. But that’s a post for another time. 

I’ve found most of my favorite new artists on TikTok lately. It didn’t take long for me to find Scarlet House. A dreamy, shoegazey, alt-pop song playing to a close shot of Kameron’s face (note: handsome face) while he’s driving (presumably to or from work), a sullen expression in his thousand-mile stare with a wall of text that read: 

“i know alternative isn’t the biggest genre in the world but it’s the one that means the most to me and has done the most for me so i’m gonna keep making it no matter who will and won’t listen”

The little hairs on my arm stood up. I got those goosebumps I get when something hits right. I was instantly endeared by the sweetness of it, but it was something else - I immediately bought it, and I’m not the only one. With early endorsements from Kehlani and Fred Durst of Limp Bizkit, Scarlet House is a band we should keep our eyes and ears on. His fan base has been steadily growing and he’s making smart moves. I love to see it.

This is Scarlet House. 

Hi, Scarlet House. 

Hello there!!

How’s it going? 

I woke to see another day, so things are going great for me.

Hell yeah. I found your music back in October, pretty shortly after getting on TikTok. How long have you been making music for this project? 

I've been working on this project since about mid-2021. I've had a love of rock music for a long time but always thought I wouldn't be able to make it, so Scarlet House was my attempt.

Did you have a project before Scarlet House or were you playing in other bands?

I previously went by my real name Kameron James! I made a very different style at that time, mostly consisting of RnB and pop songs.

What made you decide to start promoting your music on that platform?

I never had any backup plan outside of music, so I told myself it was time to buckle down and focus on promo to get these songs to the world. TikTok happens to be the best place to do it right now as we all probably know.

Yeah, it seems like every band is on there right now! Sometimes it feels crazy, but I’m starting to really love the platform from a discovery perspective. How long have you been promoting your music on TikTok?

I started seriously promoting Scarlet House Music summer of 2022. I posted before that but never with a plan of consistency.

It’s pretty common to see cool accounts get started, then the creator loses interest. I’m glad you stuck with it. What has it been like for you as an artist promoting their music on social media? 

It's ironic because before pursuing music, I'd never been the biggest social media person. I found it hard to convey who I was, but when I stopped overthinking and started doing it, that's when it became easier.

It’s a weird and sometimes scary step. But I like that you’ve taken the format and used it to express who you are. What were some of your goals when you started promoting your music online? 

Live shows are probably one of the biggest things I hope to get out of my music career. I've always dreamt of them so now being on course to making them happen is amazing. Other than that I'm just seeing where the journey takes me and taking it a day at a time.

Totally, it’s the only way. Does TikTok feel like a competitive environment? What do you think is the biggest challenge an artist faces promoting their music on the platform?  

One thing that I've realized is that there is a lane for everyone. With millions of people on the app, there's enough space for everyone to grow. In this age of music, it's easier than ever to get caught up in numbers. I try to think about the reasons I love music to keep myself grateful and centered.

I wholeheartedly agree; numbers should never be the end game. It gets exhausting for everyone and you can always tell who lost in the analytics and who really wants to be there. Do you find music on TikTok? Are there other indie artists you follow?

All the time! The beauty is in the fact that you get to see how much talent is out in the world. Art is perspective to me, so being able to see the world the way someone else does is both amazing and important. My favorite artist at the moment is this guy vhs ghost. I bonded with him through having a similar life walk so his music speaks to me in a special way. Lofi gold.

I’m so stoked to hear that. I always wonder what the social experience is like for artists on TikTok. So you think TikTok is a good platform to build community and find other musicians?

It is the best platform that I've seen! I think nothing beats a face-to-face community, but having TikTok makes it where you can build community no matter the distance. 

Yes! I have found some truly legit artists and hardcore music fans on there and as an artist myself, it really is so exciting. Do you enjoy the other music content that you see? Do you vibe more with the content or the music? 

For sure! I connect with the music usually but the content is the selling point so I have a very strong respect for the content creators I do see.

What are the main qualities that draw you to your favorite music? What makes a song great? 

I think a great song, for me, is a song that can make me feel something. I take a strong interest in the topic of nostalgia. I think there is beauty in being able to feel a glimpse of your own past through a song that is new to you.

I feel this so much! I love all the various music revivals happening online - it gives me an excuse to share my favorite music with people who haven’t heard it. Sharing is great for intergenerational bonding in the music scene, passing music down (and up!) is so important. Are you into full albums or do you like singles/playlists more?

Each presentation of music can be cool in its own way but my favorite thing is to find an album and get lost in its world.

I’m so happy to hear that! I’m addicted to making playlists now, but I love knowing people still enjoy the full album experience. It feels crucial to fully enjoy the art form. Albums can become part of your life. A lot of artists are pushing singles rather than albums right now. Do you see the “marketing advice for indie artists” accounts, and if so, what do you think of them? 

I see them quite often. The internet is huge and is full of so much advice, I think the key is understanding which advice is for you and which isn't. Everyone has a different path to their goal so knowing what will work for you and your brand is crucial!

Absolutely. I notice a lot of accounts try to make everything seem easy and plug-and-play when the reality is it’s very tough to navigate alone. Do you follow any industry accounts?

Honestly, I don't follow too many industry accounts. It can all be a little overwhelming when I think about the business side of the industry.

Judging from the comment sections alone, that’s probably smart. There’s a lot of conversation lately around indie artists maintaining control and ownership over their music and finding success without a label. Do you think this is an important conversation, and do you think it’s a good option for artists? 

I've definitely stayed in tune with the debates surrounding labels and ownership. I think the most important thing is having a team around you that you can trust. Every deal is different so I think as far as signing, just being confident in what you bring to the table and knowing your worth are super important! 

I notice a lot of artists on TikTok are solo. You write and play all the instruments, record, and produce everything yourself. Do you feel like there are limitations to being a solo artist on social media or in general? 

There is definitely a set of pros and cons to being a solo artist. Limitations present themselves when I'm in a creative drought, that's when collaboration can be beneficial. I've had a specific sound that I've been trying to achieve for a while now and I'm still working towards it so in the case of my artistry, it's been easier to go on the journey alone.

I think a lot of people can relate to that. Being a band leader is also different and can be pretty challenging. Are you a perfectionist?  

A perfectionist from my own perspective! I don't want to say that my work is perfect, but I'm stubborn with my vision and ears so I won't stop chipping away at a song until it's where I'd like it to be. 

I think it comes through in a good way and when you have a band it’ll be a seamless transition. 

Something I was super excited to see is how much TikTok gives visibility to artists of color in every genre. I can see directly how deeply it resonates with fans. Do you have any thoughts you’d like to share about that? Does it inspire you to see other Black artists pivoting into genres previously only marketed to white audiences?

Growing up in school I moved around a lot and dealt with these feelings of being an outsider. Now that I'm older and understand the world a little better, I can see that a lot of us had many things in common back in grade school, the similarities just never surfaced. For this reason, the Black alternative scene is a very exciting thing to me. One great thing about the internet is that it provides a space to be yourself. Going forward I hope to see more of my peers embracing who they are regardless of the pressure society puts on them to conform. Alternative scene or not, everyone deserves to be themself.

  

Do you feel like TikTok builds awareness for Black alternative artists more than other platforms? 

It's interesting because I look at TikTok as being the land, you can build whatever you want there. This has been a huge stepping stone for so many Black artists to be discovered and heard.

It’s really amazing. As someone who always pushed hard for this freedom growing up and even now, I love seeing this grow and watching people flourish. One thing I really love about your content is that you’re so transparent and honest about what making music means to you. You just seem like such a nice person! Social media has a reputation for hooking people in with drama and toxicity, and I can tell your fans really appreciate your authenticity. 

The times that were in can be brutal. Mentally, emotionally and spiritually. If there is anything I could offer to a listener, I want it to be an escape. A reminder that things can be okay.

They can feel it. I’m glad you’re sharing it with people. So what’s on deck in 2023 for Scarlet House? What are you looking forward to? What can your fans look forward to? 

I'm beyond excited for all that's to come in 2023! My biggest focus is just releasing more tracks! Hopefully, the songs will resonate with listeners as much as they do with me. 

(Originally published on beastsunltd.com January 31st, 2023)

[restinslices]

Before y’all ask, YES I am working on Everything pt4.

However, I wanna rant real quick. TW for shitty ass feelings.

Idk if this is just me, but I have such a love hate relationship with the fact that I take meds for my depression and anxiety. On one hand it’s like “dude, you really need these meds. They help you. For fucks sake you’ve been hospitalized before”. On the other hand it’s like “why do you need meds to feel ok? Why can’t you just be normal? For fucks sake, you’ve been hospitalized before and kept bouncing between hospitals for over a year”. Surely this can’t just be me that’s felt this way right? I know I need these meds, but I hate that I need them. I went without meds for months and felt fine, but then the depression hit and I had to go on them again, so idk, I kinda feel like “damn. I’m never gonna be normal” and that’s so ass. And my shit is BAD. The persona I have online may seem very free and “I don’t give a fuck. Imma do me” but that is so not me irl. I’ve had to leave class because my panic attacks. School (before I went to an alternative school) was extremely difficult because so much of it was social work and for some reason my brain just shuts down. I’ll legitimately start shaking if I gotta talk to someone I don’t know. I get anxiety when I think about crossing the street. My brain is dumb as hell and I know this. And bitch the depression? Just take me out the game cause shit gets wild. I’ll neglect my responsibilities, my hygiene, I’ll just sleep all day so that I don’t have to think about how much I wanna control alt delete.

So believe me, I KNOW I need meds. I just hate that I can’t function like a normal person without meds. When it came to my ptsd, it got better. I can stay home alone, I don’t panic as much as I did when I hear cars passing, I can walk by myself without worrying about getting attacked, if my dad were to text me right now I’d be annoyed instead of scared, shit like that. It took like, 4 years but it got better. I don’t see me ever getting better when it comes to this and being what’s considered normal. Some days I’m ok with that. Some days I’m not.

And bitch while I’m typing, peep game. So my dad was abusive, hence the ptsd. Once I got away from him, I never spoke to him again as you can imagine (he kept harassing me through text but speeding past that-). But I never imagined that my dads side of the family would never speak to me again as well. And don’t get me wrong, they’re not my favorite people. One cousin in particular can never come around me again for a specific traumatic reason but we’re gonna move past that and focus on the bigger picture. And I’ve tried to keep in touch with certain people and my mom even asked one of my cousins that I actually like to check in on me because it isn’t fair that everyone dropped me, but no one is doing their part. That cousin never contacts me and I’m always reaching out. It’s always me calling. Me checking in. Why can’t y’all do the same? I’m the bitch with trauma. So I stopped calling and we’ve stopped speaking. And apart of me is like “Slices, they’re your grandparents so maybe technology is hard” but another part is like “they have multiple phones. How hard would calling me be? What about my cousins and aunts and uncles that never make the effort with me too? Why am I doing all the work and these grown ass people aren’t doing shit to keep our relationship growing?”. It’s just not fair. And I know “not fair” sounds childish because life isn’t fair, but that’s the only way I know how to describe it. It’s just not fair. The whole court shit happened when I was 14. I am 18 now and none of y’all have tried. And it’s not like I would just visit so our relationship ain’t that deep. Nah. I’ve lived with these people. Our family was close. So like?? And all my dad had to do legally for us to possibly start talking again was go to counseling, and he hasn’t done that yet and never will. So it’s like, why am I not worth holding onto or fighting for to anyone on that side of the family? What’s wrong with me?

I’m getting sad as fuck so imma end this here and go watch some edits or smth. This isn’t some cry for help, I promise. I’m not finna take myself off the Census. And this isn’t me fishing for anything. I’m just ranting. It’s a lot easier to do online, yk? I don’t feel like I’m bothering anyone with my shitty ass feelings because you can always just skip it. Sorry for bitching on main. I’m still the strong leader of our bread slices cult💪🏾🍞

Also the beginning is NOT an attack on people waiting for Everything pt4. I just know people are waiting for it and I’m working on it, but I feel like buns and those chapters are longer so they take longer to put out.

[innuendostudios]

I was invited to give a talk on GamerGate over Zoom in early 2021. I've long been frustrated that there isn't a good timeline of GG and its origins on YouTube. When people ask "what the hell was GG anyway?" they often get referred to my or Dan Olson's videos on the subject, but both of them were made while GG was ongoing, and presumed a degree of familiarity on the part of the audience. There was just too much to say about what was already happening to spend time getting the audience up to speed, and it was safe to assume our audiences had enough context to follow along. But time moves fast on the internet, and many people who now care about such things weren't there while it was happening, and are lacking the necessary context to follow the better videos. For a long time, I've only been able to direct them to RationalWiki's timeline, which is excellent but so exhaustively comprehensive that it's likely to scare off first-timers.

I realize an hourlong lecture isn't necessarily helping matters, but the first 20-or-so minutes of this video are my attempt at streamlining the timeline such that people can be up to speed on the most important stuff fairly quickly. The rest is talking about what it all meant, how it prefigured the Alt-Right, and using it to better understand digital radicalization.

This video was made with the help of Magdalen Rose, who edited the slides to the audio while I was laid up with a back injury. Go sub to her channel! And please back me on Patreon.

Transcript below the cut.

FUCKING VIDEO GAMES? FUCKING VIDEO GAMES. THEY MADE DOZENS OF PEOPLE MISERABLE FOR YEARS OVER VIDEO GAMES! NOT EVEN FUCKING VIDEO GAMES, FUCKING ARTICLES ABOUT FUCKING VIDEO GAMES. THIS IS WHAT PASSES FOR LEGITIMATE GRIEVANCE. ARE YOU KIDDING ME WITH THIS SHIT??

Hi! My name is Ian Danskin. I’m a video essayist and media artist. I run the YouTube channel Innuendo Studios, please like share and subscribe.

I’m here to talk to you about GamerGate, and I needed to get all that out of the way. I’m going to talk about what GamerGate was and how it prefigured The Alt-Right, and there are gonna be moments where you’re nodding along with me, going, “yeah, yeah I get it,” and then the sun’s gonna break through a crack in the wall and you’ll suddenly remember that all this is happening because some folks - mostly ladies - said some stuff - provably true stuff, I might add - about video games and a bunch of guys didn’t like it, and you’re gonna want to rip your hair out. By the end of this, you will have a better understanding of what happened, but it will never not be bullshit.

Also, oh my god, content warning. Racism, sexism, antisemitism, homophobia, transphobia, rape threats, threats of violence, domestic abuse - I’m not going to depict or describe at length any of the worst stuff, but it’s all in the mix. So if at any point you need to switch me off or mute me, you have my blessing.

Brace yourselves.

Some quick prehistory:

In 2012, feminist media critic Anita Sarkeesian ran a Kickstarter campaign for a YouTube series on sexist tropes in video games. And, partway through the campaign, 4chan found it and said “let’s ruin her life.” And a lot of the male general gaming public joined in. And by “ruin her life” I’m not talking 150 angry tweets including dozens of rape and death threats per week, though that was a thing. I’m talking bomb threats. I’m talking canceled speaking engagements because someone threatened to shoot up a school. I’m talking FBI investigation. The harassers faced no meaningful repercussions.

And in 2013, Zoe Quinn released Depression Quest, a free text game about living with depression. They received harassment off and on for the next year, most pointedly from an incel forum called Wizardchan that doxxed their phone number and made harassing phone calls telling them to kill themself. The harassers faced no meaningful repercussions.

(Also, quick note: Zoe Quinn is nonbinary and has come out since the events in question. When I call Zoe’s harassment misogynist, understand I am not calling Zoe a woman, but they were attacked by people who hate women because that’s how they were perceived. Had they been out at the time things probably would’ve gone down similarly, but on top of misogyny I’d be talking about nonbinary erasure and transphobia.)

Okay. Our story begins in August 2014. The August that never ended.

Depression Quest, after a prolonged period on Greenlight, finally releases on Steam as a free download with the option to pay what you want. In the days that follow, Zoe’s ex-boyfriend, Eron Gjoni, writes a nearly 10,000-word blog called The Zoe Post, in which he claims Quinn had been a shitty and unfaithful partner. (For reference, 10,000 words is long enough that the Hugos would consider it a novelette.) This is posted to forums on Penny Arcade and Something Awful, both of which immediately take it down, finding it, at best, a lot of toxic hearsay and, at worse, an invitation to harassment. So Gjoni workshops the post, adds a bunch of edgelord humor (and I am using the word “humor” very generously), and reposts it to three different subforums on 4chan.

We’re not going to litigate whether Zoe Quinn was a good partner. I don’t know or care. I don’t think anyone on this call is trying to date them so I’m not sure that’s our business. What is known is that the relationship lasted five months, and, after it ended, Gjoni began stalking Quinn. Gjoni has, in fact, laid out how he stalked Quinn in meticulous detail to interviewers and why he feels it was justified. It’s also been corroborated by a friend that Quinn briefly considered taking him back at a games conference in San Francisco, but he became violent during sex and Quinn left the apartment in the middle of the night with visible bruises.

Off of the abusive ex-boyfriend’s post, 4chan decides it’s going to make Zoe Quinn one of their next targets, and starts a private IRC channel to plan the campaign. The channel is called #BurgersAndFries, a reference to Gjoni claiming Quinn had cheated on him with five guys. A couple sentences in The Zoe Post - which Gjoni would later claim were a typo - imply that one of the five guys was games journalist Nathan Grayson and that Quinn had slept with him in exchange for a good review of Depression Quest. Given the anger that they’d seen drummed up against women in games with the previous Anita Sarkeesian hate mob, #BurgersAndFries decides to focus on this breach of “ethics in games journalism” as a cover story, many of them howling with laughter at the thought that male gamers would probably buy it. This way, destroying Quinn’s life and career and turning their community against them would appear an unfortunate byproduct of a legitimate consumer revolt; criticism of the harassment could even be framed as a distraction from the bigger issue. Gjoni himself is in the IRC channel telling them that this was the best hand to play.

The stated aim of many on #BurgersAndFries was to convince Quinn to commit suicide.

Two regulars in the IRC, YouTubers MundaneMatt and Internet Aristocrat, make videos about The Zoe Post. Incidentally, both these men had already made a lot of money off videos about Anita Sarkeesian. Matt’s is swiftly taken down with a DMCA claim, and he says that Quinn filed the claim themself. (For the record, in those days, YouTube didn’t tell you who filed DMCA claims against you.) Members of the IRC also reach out to YouTuber TotalBiscuit, who had been critical of Sarkeesian and dismissive of her harassment, and he tweets the story to his 350,000 followers, saying a game developer trading sex for a good review might not prove true, but was certainly plausible.

This is where GamerGate begins to get public traction.

Zoe Quinn is very swiftly doxxed, with their phone number, home address, nudes, and names and numbers of their family collected. Gjoni himself leaks their birth name. The Zoe Post, and the movement against Quinn - now dubbed “The Quinnspiracy” - make it to The Escapist and Reddit, which mods will have little luck removing. The Quinnspiracy declares war on any site that does take their threads down, most vehemently NeoGAF. People who defend Zoe against the harassment start getting doxxed themselves - Fez developer Phil Fish is doxxed so thoroughly, hackers get access to the root folder of his website.

In what I’m going to call This Should Have Been The End, Part 1, Stephen Totilo, Editor-in-Chief at Kotaku where Nathan Grayson worked, in response to pressure not just from The Quinnspiracy but an increasing number of angry gamers buying The Quinnspiracy’s narrative, publishes a story. In it he verifies that Quinn and Grayson did date for several months, and that not only is there no review of Depression Quest anywhere on Kotaku, not by Grayson nor anyone else, but that Grayson did not write a single word about Quinn the entire time they were dating.

In response, The Quinnspiracy declares war on Kotaku. r/KotakuinAction is formed, which will become the primary site of organization outside of chanboards. The fact that their entire “movement” is based on a review that does not exist changes next to nothing.

Some people start to see The Quinnspiracy as potentially profitable. The Fine Young Capitalists get involved, a group ostensibly working to get women into video games but who have a Byzantine plan to do so wherein they crowdfund the budget and the woman who wins a competition gets to storyboard a game, but another company will make and she will get 8% of the profits, the rest going to a charity chosen by the top donor. 4chan becomes the top donor. They like TFYC because the head of the company has a vendetta against Zoe Quinn, who had previously called them out for their transphobic submission policy, and he falsely accused Quinn of having once doxxed him. 4chan feels backing an ostensibly feminist effort will be good PR, but can’t resist selecting a colon cancer charity because, they say, feminism is cancer and they want to be the cure to butthurt. They also get to design a character for the game, and so they create Vivian James, who will become the GamerGate mascot.

Manosphere YouTubers Jordan Owen and Davis Aurini launch a Patreon campaign for their antifeminist documentary The Sarkeesian Effect and come to The Quinnspiracy looking for $15,000 a month for an indefinite period to make it, which they get.

In what will prove genuinely awful timing, Anita Sarkeesian releases the second episode of Tropes vs. Women in Video Games, and, despite not being a games journalist and having nothing to do with Quinn or Grayson, she is immediately roped into the narrative about how feminists are ruining games culture and becomes the second major target of harassment. Both she and Quinn soon have to leave their houses after having receiving dozens and dozens of death threats that include their home addresses.

After being courted by members of the IRC channel, Firefly star Adam Baldwin tweets a link to one of the Quinnspiracy videos and coins the hashtag #GamerGate. This is swiftly adopted by all involved.

In response to all this, Leigh Alexander writes a piece for Gamasutra arguing that the identity that these men are flocking to the “ethics in games journalism” narrative to defend no longer matters as a marketing demographic. Gaming and games culture is so large and so varied, and the “core gamer” audience of 18-34 white bros growing smaller and septic, that there was no reason, neither morally nor financially, to treat them as the primary audience anymore. Love of gaming is eternal, but, she declared, “gamers,” as an identity, “are over.” Eight more articles contextualizing GamerGate alongside misogyny and the gatekeeping of games culture come out across several websites in the following days. GamerGate frames these as a clear sign of [deep sigh] collusion to oppress gamers, proving that ethics in games journalism is, indeed, broken, and Leigh Alexander becomes the third major target of harassment. These become known as the “gamers are dead” articles - a phrase not one of them uses - and they make “get Leigh Alexander fired from Gamasutra” one of their primary goals.

Something I need you to understand is that it has, at this point, been two weeks.

Highlights from the next little bit: Alex Macris, a higher up at The Escapist’s parent company, expresses support for GamerGate; he will go on to write the first positive coverage at a major publication and cement The Escapist as GamerGate-friendly. Mike Cernovich, aka “Based Lawyer,” gets GamerGate’s attention by mocking Anita Sarkeesian; he will go on to hire a private investigator to stalk Zoe Quinn. GamerGate launches Operation Disrespectful Nod, an email campaign pressuring companies to pull advertising from websites that have criticized them. They leverage their POC members, getting them, any time someone points out the rampant racism and antisemitism among GamerGaters, to say “I am a person of color and I am #NotYourShield”; most of these “POC members” are fake accounts left over from a previous, racist disinformation campaign. Milo Yiannapoulos gets involved, writing positive coverage of GG despite having mocked gamers for precisely this behavior in the past, and gets so much traffic it pulls Breitbart News out of obscurity and makes it a significant player in modern conservative news media.

[Hey! Ian from the future here. This talk mostly addresses how GamerGate prefigured the Alt-Right strategically and philosophically, but if you want a more explicit, material connection: Breitbart News took its newfound notoriety to become, as its Executive Chair phrased it in 2016, "a platform for the Alt-Right." That Executive Chair was Steve Bannon, who threw the website's weight behind The Future President Who Shall Not Be Named, and, upon getting his attention, would then go on to become his campaign strategist and work in his Administration. So, if you're wondering how one of the central figures of the Alt-Right ended up in the White House, the answer is literally "GamerGate." Back to you, Ian from the past!]

In what I’m calling This Should Have Been The End, Part 2, Zoe Quinn announces that they have been lurking the #BurgersAndFries IRC channel since the beginning and releases dozens of screenshots showing harassment being planned and the selection of “ethics in games journalism” as a cover. #BurgersAndFries has a meltdown, everyone turns on each other, and the channel is abandoned. And they then start another IRC and things proceed.

It goes on like this. I’m not gonna cover everything. This is just the first month. It should be clear by now that this thing is kind of unkillable. And I worry I haven’t made it obvious that this is not just a chanboard and an IRC. Thousands of regular, every day gamers were buying the story and joining in. They were angry, and no amount of evidence that their anger was unfounded was going to change that. You could not mention or even allude to GamerGate and not get flooded with dozens, even hundreds of furious replies. These replies always included the hashtag so everyone monitoring it could join in, so all attempts at real conversation devolved into a hundred forking threads where some people expected you to talk to them while others hurled insults and slurs. And always the possibility that, if any one of them didn’t like what you said, you’d be the next target.

To combat this, some progressives offered up the hashtag #GameEthics to the people getting swept up in GamerGate, saying, “look, we get that you’re angry, and if you want to talk about ethics in games journalism, we can totally do that, but using your hashtag is literally putting us in danger; they calling the police on people saying there’s a hostage situation at their home addresses so they get sent armed SWAT teams, and if you’ll just use this other hashtag we can have the conversation you say you want to have in safety.” And I will ever stop being salty about what happened.

They refused. They wouldn’t cede any ground to what they saw as their opposition. It was so important to have the conversation on their terms that not only did they refuse to use #GameEthics, they spammed it with furry porn so no one could use it.

A few major events on the timeline before we move on: Christina Hoff Sommers, the Republican Party’s resident “feminist,” comes out criticizing Anita Sarkeesian and becomes a major GG figurehead, earning the title Based Mom. Zoe Quinn gets a restraining order against Eron Gjoni, which he repeatedly violates, to no consequence; GG will later crowdfund his legal fees. There’s this listserv called GameJournoPros where game journalists would talk about their jobs, and many are discussing their concerns over GamerGate, so Milo Yiannopoulos leaks it and this is framed as further “proof of collusion.” 4chan finally starts enforcing its “no dox” rules and shuts GamerGate threads down, so they migrate to 8chan, a site famous for hosting like a lot of child porn. Indie game developer Brianna Wu makes a passing joke about GamerGate on Twitter and they decide, seemingly on a whim, to make her one of the biggest targets in the entire movement; she soon has to leave her home as well. GamerGate gets endorsements from WikiLeaks, Infowars, white nationalist sites Stormfront and The Daily Stormer, and professional rapist RooshV. And hundreds of people get doxxed; an 8chan subforum called Baphomet is created primarily to host dox of GamerGate’s critics.

But by November, GamerGate popularity was cresting, as more and more mainstream media covered it negatively. Their last, big spike in popularity came when Anita Sarkeesian went on The Colbert Report and Stephen made fun of the movement. Their numbers never recovered after that.

Which is not to say GamerGate ended. It slowed down. The period of confusion where the mainstream world couldn’t tell whether it was a legitimate movement or not passed. But, again, most harassers faced no meaningful repercussions. Gamers who bought the lie about “ethics in games journalism” stayed mad that no one had ever taken them seriously, and harassers continued to grief their targets for years. The full timeline of GamerGate is an constant cycle of lies, harassment, operations, grift, and doxxing. Dead-enders are to this day still using the hashtag. And remember how Anita had nothing to do with ethics in games journalism or Zoe Quinn, and they just roped her in because they’d enjoyed harassing her before so why not? Every one of GamerGate’s targets knows that they may get dragged into some future harassment campaign just because. It’s already happened to several of them. They’re marked.

(sigh) Let’s take a breath.

Now that we know what GamerGate was, let’s talk about why it worked.

In the thick of GamerGate, I started compiling a list of tactics I saw them using. I wanted to make a video essay that was one part discussion of antifeminist backlash, and one part list of techniques these people use so we can better recognize and anticipate their behavior. That first part became six parts and the second part went on a back burner. It would eventually become my series, The Alt-Right Playbook. GamerGate is illustrative because most of what would become The Alt-Right Playbook was in use.

Two foundational principles of The Alt-Right Playbook are Control the Conversation and Never Play Defense. Make sure people are talking about what you want them to talk about, and take an aggressive posture so you look dominant even when you’re not making sense. For instance: once Zoe leaked the IRC chatlogs, a reasonable person could tell the average gater, “the originators of GamerGate were planning harassment from the very beginning.” But the gater would say, “you’re cherry-picking; not everyone was a harasser.”

Now, this is a bad argument - that’s not how you use “cherry-picking” - and it’s being framed as an accusation - you’re not just wrong, you’re dishonest - which makes you wanna defend yourself. But, if you do - if you tell them why that argument is crap - you’ve let the conversation move from “did the IRC plan harassment?” - a question of fact - to “are the harassers representative of the movement?” - a question of ethics. Like, yes, they are, but only within a certain moral framework. An ethics question has no provable answer, especially if people are willing to make a lot of terrible arguments. It is their goal to move any question with a definitive answer to a question of philosophy, to turn an argument they can’t win into an argument nobody can win.

The trick is to treat the question you asked like it’s already been answered and bait you into addressing the next question. By arguing about whether you’re cherry-picking, you’re accepting the premise that whether you’re cherry-picking is even relevant. Any time this happens, it’s good to pause and ask, “what did we just skip over?” Because that will tell you a lot.

What you skipped over is their admission that, yes, the IRC did plan harassment, but that’s only on them if most of the movement was in on it. Which is a load of crap - the rest of the IRC saw it happening, let it happen, it’s not like anybody warned Zoe, and shit, I’m having the cherry-picking argument! They got me! You see how tempting it is? But presumably the reason you brought the harassment up is because you want them to do something about it. At the very least, leave the movement, but ideally try and stop it. They don’t, strictly speaking, need to feel personally responsible to do that. And you might be thinking, well, maybe if I can get them take responsibility then they’ll do something, but you’d be falling for a different technique I call I Hate Mondays.

This is where people will acknowledge a terrible thing is happening, maybe even agree it’s bad, but they don’t believe anything can be done about it. They also don’t believe you believe anything can be done about it. Mondays suck, but they come around every week. This is never stated outright, but it’s why you’re arguing past each other. To them, the only reason to talk about the bad thing is to assign blame. Whose turn is it to get shit on for the unsolvable problem? Their argument about cherry-picking amounts to “1-2-3 not it.” And they are furious with you for trying to make them responsible for harassment they didn’t participate in.

The unspoken argument is that harassment is part of being on the internet. Every public figure deals with it. This ignores any concept of scale - why does one person get harassed more than another? - but you can’t argue with someone who views it as a binary: harassment either happens or it doesn’t, and, if it does, it’s a fact of life, and, if it happens to everyone, it’s not gendered. And this is not a strongly-held belief they’ve come to after years of soul-searching - this is what they’ve just decided they believe. They want to participate in GamerGate despite knowing its purpose, and this is what would need to be true for that to be ok.

Or maybe they’re just fucking with you! Maybe you can’t tell. Maybe they can’t tell, either. I call this one The Card Says Moops, where people say whatever they feel will score points in an argument and are so irony-poisoned they have no idea whether they actually believe it. A very useful trick if the thing you appear to believe is unconscionable. You can’t take what people like that say at face value; you can only intuit their beliefs from their actions. They say they believe this one minute and that another, but their behavior is always in accordance with that, not this.

In the negative space, their belief is, “The harassment of these women is okay. My anger about video games is more important. I may not be harassing them myself, but they do kind of deserve it.” They will never say this out loud in a serious conversation, though many will say it in an anonymous or irreverent space where they can later deny they meant it. But, whatever they say they believe, this is the worldview they are operating under.

Obscuring this means flipping through a lot of contradictory arguments. The harassment is being faked, or it’s not being faked but it’s being exaggerated, or it’s not being exaggerated but the target is provoking it to get attention, which means GamerGate harassers simultaneously don’t exist, exist in small numbers, and exist in such large numbers someone can build a career out of relying on them! It can be kind of fun to take all these arguments made in isolation and try to string together an actual position. Like, GamerGate would argue that Nathan Grayson having previously mentioned Zoe Quinn in an article about a canceled reality show counts as positive coverage, and since Grayson reached out to Quinn for comment it’s reasonable to assume they started dating before the article was published (which is earlier than they claim), and positive coverage did lead to greater popularity for Depression Quest. But if you untangle that, it’s like��� okay, you’re saying Zoe Quinn slept with a journalist in exchange for four nonconsecutive sentences that said no more than “Zoe Quinn exists and made a game,” and the price of those four sentences was to date the journalist for months, all to get rich off a game that didn’t cost any money. That’s your movement?

And some, if cornered, would say, “yes, we believe women are just that shitty, that one would fuck a guy for months if it made them the tiniest bit more famous.” But they won’t lead with that. Because they know it won’t convince the normies, even the ones who want to be convinced. So they use a process I call The Ship of Theseus to, piece by piece, turn that sentence into “slept with a journalist in exchange for a good review” and argue that each part of the sentence is technically accurate. It’s trying to lie without lying. And, provided all the pieces of this sentence are discussed separately, and only in the context of how they justify this sentence, you can trick yourself into believing this sentence is mostly true.

So, like, why? This is clearly motivated reasoning; what’s the motivation? What was this going to accomplish?

The answer is nothing. Nothing, by design. GamerGate’s “official” channels - the subreddit and the handful of forums that didn’t shut them down - were rigidly opposed to any action more organized than an email campaign. They had a tiny handful of tangible demands - they wanted gaming websites to post public ethics policies and had a list of people they wanted fired - but their larger aim was the sea change in how games journalism operated, which nothing they were asking for could possibly give them. The kind of anger that convinces you this is a true statement is not going to be addressed by a few paragraphs about ethics and Leigh Alexander getting a new job. They wanted gaming sites to stop catering to women and “SJWs” - who were a sizable and growing source of traffic - and to get out of the pockets of companies that advertised on their websites - which was their primary source of income. So all Kotaku had to do to make them happy was solve capitalism!

Meanwhile, the unofficial channels, like 8chan and Baphomet, were planning op after op to get private information, spread lies with fake accounts, get disinformation trending, make people quit jobs, cancel gigs, and flee their homes. Concrete goals with clear results. All you had to do to feel productive was go rogue. In my video,

How to Radicalize a Normie, I describe how the Alt-Right encourages lone wolf behavior by whipping people up into a rage and then refusing to give them anything to do, while surrounding them with examples of people taking matters into their own hands. The same mechanism is in play here: the public-facing channels don’t condone harassment but also refuse to fight it, the private channels commit it under cover of anonymity, and there is a free flow of traffic between them for when the official channels’ impotence becomes unbearable.

What I hope I’m illustrating is how these techniques play off of each other, how they create a closed ecosystem that rational thought cannot enter. There’s a phrase we use on the internet that got thrown around a lot at the time:

you can’t logic someone out of a position they didn’t logic themselves into.

Now, there are a few other big topics I think are relevant here, so I want to go through them one by one.

MEMEIFICATION

So a lot of interactions with GamerGate would involve a very insular knowledge base.

Like, you’d say something benign but progressive on Twitter.

A gater would show up in your mentions and say something aggressive and false.

You’d correct them. But then they’d come back and hit you with -

ah shit, sorry, this is a Loss meme.

If I were in front of a classroom I’d ask, show of hands, how many of you got that? I had to ask Twitter recently, does Gen Z know about Loss?!

If you don’t know what Loss is I’m not sure I can explain it to you. It’s this old, bad webcomic that was parodied so, so, so many times

that it was reduced to its barest essentials, to the point where any four panels with shapes in this arrangement is a Loss meme. For those of you in the know, you will recognize this anywhere, but have you ever tried to explain to someone who wasn’t in the know why this is really fuckin’ funny?

So, now… by the same process that this is a comics joke,

this is a rape joke.

I’m not gonna show the original image, but, once upon a time, someone made an animated GIF of the character Piccolo from Dragon Ball Z graphically raping Vegeta. 4chan loved it so much that it got posted daily, became known as the “daily dose,” until mods started deleting every incident of it. So they uploaded slightly edited version of it. Then they started uploading other images that had been edited with Piccolo’s color scheme. It got so abstracted that eventually any collection of purple and green pixels would be recognized as Piccolo Dick.

Apropos of nothing, GamerGate is a movement that insists it is not sexist in nature and it does not condone threats of rape against the women they don’t like. And this is their logo. This is their mascot.

If you’re familiar with the Daily Dose, the idea that GamerGate would never support Eron Gjoni if they believed he was a sexual abuser is so blatantly insincere it’s insulting… but imagine trying to explain to someone who’s not on 4chan how this sweater is a rape joke. Imagine having to explain it to a journalist. Imagine having to explain it to the judge enforcing your abuser’s restraining order.

Reactionaries use meme culture not just because they’re terminally online but also because it makes their behavior seem either benign or just confusing to outsiders. They find it hilarious that they can be really explicit and still fly under the radar. The Alt-Right did this with Pepe the Frog, the OK sign, even the milk glass emoji for a hot minute. The more inexplicable the meme, the better. You get the point where Stephen Miller is flashing Nazi signs from the White House and the Presidential re-eletion campaign is releasing 88 ads of exactly 14 words and there’s still a debate about whether the administration is racist. Because journalists aren’t going to get their heads around that. You tell them “1488 is a Nazi number,” it’s gonna seem a lot more plausible that you’re making shit up.

MOVE FAST AND BREAK THINGS

Online movements like GamerGate move at a speed and mutation rate too high for the mainstream world to keep up. And not just that they don’t understand the memes - they don’t understand the infrastructure.

In an attempt to cover GamerGate evenhandedly, George Wiedman of Super Bunnyhop interviewed a lawyer who specializes in journalistic ethics. He meant well; I really wish he hadn’t. You can see him trying to fit something like GamerGate into terms this silver-haired man who works in copyright law can understand. At one point he asks if it’s okay to fund the creative project of a potential journalistic source, to which the guy understandably says “no.”

What he’s alluding to here is the harassment of Jenn Frank. A few weeks into GamerGate, Jenn Frank writes a piece in The Guardian about sexism in tech that mentions Anita Sarkeesian and Zoe Quinn. In another case of “here’s a strongly-held belief I just decided I have,” GamerGate says this is a breach of journalistic ethics because Frank backs Quinn on Patreon. They harass her so intensely she not only has to quit her job at The Guardian, for several months she quits journalism entirely.

Off the bat, calling a public figure central to a major event in the field a “journalistic source” is flatly wrong-headed. Quinn was not interviewed or even contacted for the article, they were in no way a “source”; they were a subject. But I want to talk about this phrase, “fund a creative project.” Patreon is functionally a subscription; it’s a way of buying things. It’s technically accurate that Frank is funding Quinn’s creative project, but only in the sense that you are funding Bob Dylan’s creative project if you listen to his music. And saying Frank therefore can’t write about Quinn is like saying a music journalist can’t cover a Bob Dylan concert if they’ve ever bought his albums.

And we could talk about the ways that Patreon, as compared with other funding models, can create a greater sense of intimacy, and we also could comment that, well, that’s how an increasing number of people consume media now, so that perspective should be present in journalism. But maybe it means we should cover that perspective differently? I don’t know. It’s an interesting subject. But none of that’s going on in this conversation because this guy doesn’t know what Patreon is. It was only a year old at this point. Patreon’s been a primary source of my income for 5 years and my parents still don’t know what it is. (I think they think I’m a freelancer?) This guy hears “funding a creative project” and he’s thinking an investor, someone who makes a profit off the source’s success.

The language of straight society hasn’t caught up with what’s happening, and that works in GamerGate’s favor.

In the years since GamerGate we have dozens of stories of people trying to explain Twitter harassment to a legal system that’s never heard of Twitter. People trying to explain death threats to cops whose only relationship to the internet is checking email, confusedly asking, “Why don’t you just not go online?” Like, yeah, release your text game about depression at GameStop for the PS3 and get it reviewed in the Boston Globe, problem solved.

You see this in the slowness of mainstream journalists to condemn the harassment - hell, even games journalists at first. Because what if it is a legitimate movement? What if the harassers are just a fringe element? What if there was misconduct? The people in a position to stop GamerGate don’t have to be convinced of their legitimacy, they just have to hesitate. They just have to be unsure. Remember how much happened in just the first two weeks, how it took only a month to become unkillable.

It’s the same hesitance that makes mainstream media, online platforms, and law enforcement underestimate The Alt-Right. They’re terrified of condemning a group as white nationalist terrorists because they’re confused, and what if they’re wrong? Or, in most cases, not even afraid they’re wrong, but afraid of the PR disaster if too much of the world thinks they’re wrong.

ACCOUNTABILITY AND CONTROL

A thing I’ve talked about in The Alt-Right Playbook is how these decentralized, ostensibly leaderless movements insulate themselves from responsibility. Harassment is never the movement’s fault because they never told anyone to harass and you can’t prove the harassers are legitimate members of the movement. The Alt-Right does this too - one of their catchphrases is “I disavow.” Since there are no formalized rules for membership, they can redraw boundaries on the fly; they can take credit for any successes and deny responsibility for any wrongdoing. Public membership is granted or revoked based on a person’s moment-to-moment utility.

It’s almost like… they’re cherry-picking.

The flipside of this is a lack of control. Since they never officially tell anyone to do anything but write emails, they have no means of stopping anyone from behaving counterproductively. The harassment of Jenn Frank was the first time GamerGate’s originators thought, “maybe we should ease off just to avoid bad publicity,” and they found they couldn’t. GamerGate had gotten too big, and too many people were clearly there for precisely this reason.

They also couldn’t control the infighting. When your goal is to harass women and you have all these contradictory justifications for why, you end up with a lot of competing beliefs. And, you know what? Angry white men who like harassing people don’t form healthy relationships! Several prominent members of GamerGate - including Internet Aristocrat - got driven out by factionalism; they were doxxed by their own people! Jordan Owen and Davis Aurini parted ways hating each other, with Aurini releasing chatlogs of him gaslighting Owen about accepting an endorsement from Roosh, and they released two competing edits of The Sarkeesian Effect.

I say this because it’s useful to know that these are alliances of convenience. If you know where the sore spots are, you can apply pressure to them.

LEADERS WITHOUT LEADERSHIP

One way movements like GamerGate deflect responsibility is by declaring, “We are a leaderless movement! We have no means to stop harassment.”

Which… any anarchist will tell you collective action is entirely possible without leaders. But they’ll also tell you, absent a system of distributing power equitably, you’re gonna have leaders, just not ones you elected.

A few months into GamerGate, Randi Lee Harper created the ggautoblocker. Here’s what it did: it took five prominent GamerGate figures - Adam Baldwin, Mike Cernovich, Christina Hoff Sommers, Milo Yiannopoulos, and Nick Monroe, formerly known as [sigh] PressFartToContinue - and generated a block list of everyone who followed at least two of them on Twitter. Now, this became something of an arms race; once GamerGate found out about it they made secondary accounts that followed different people, and more and more prominent figures appeared and had to get added to the list. But, when it first launched, the list generated from just these five people comprised an estimated 90-95% of GamerGate.

Hate to break it to you, guys, but if 90+ percent of your movement is following at least two of the same five people, those are your leaders. The attention economy has produced them. Power pools when left on its own.

This is another case where you have to ignore what people claim and look at what they do. The Alt-Right loves to say “we disavow Richard Spencer” and “Andrew Anglin doesn’t speak for us.”

But no matter what they say, pay attention to whom they’re taking cues from.

AD CAMPAIGN

George Lakoff has observed that one way the Left fails in opposition to the Right is that most liberal politicians and campaigners have degrees in things like law and political science, where conservative campaigners more often have degrees in advertising and communications. Liberals and leftists may have a better product to sell, but conservatives know how to sell products.

GamerGate less resembles a boots-on-the-ground political movement than an ad campaign. First they decide what their messaging strategy is going to be. Then the media arm starts publicizing it. They seek out celebrity endorsements. They get their own hashtag and mascot. They donate to charity and literally call it “public relations.” You can even see the move from The Quinnspiracy to GamerGate as a rebranding effort - when one name got too closely associated with harassment, they started insisting GamerGate was an entirely separate movement from The Quinnspiracy. I learned that trick from Stringer Bell’s economics class.

Now, we could stand to learn a thing or two from this. But I also wouldn’t want us to adopt this strategy whole hog; you should view moves like these as red flags. If you’re hesitating to condemn a movement because what if it’s legitimate, take a look at whether they’re selling ideology like it’s Pepsi.

PERCEPTION IS EVERYTHING

One reason to insist you’re a consumer revolt rather than a harassment campaign is most people who want to harass need someone to give them permission, and need someone to tell them it’s normal.

Bob Altemeyer has this survey he uses to study authoritarianism. He divides respondents into people with low, average, and high authoritarian sentiments, and then tells them what the survey has measured and asks, “what score do you think is best to have: low, average, or high?”

People with low authoritarian sentiments say it’s best to be low. People with average authoritarian sentiments also say it’s best to be low. But people with high authoritarian sentiments? They say it’s best to be average. Altemeyer finds, across all his research, that reactionaries want to aggress, but only if it is socially acceptable. They want to know they are the in-group and be told who the out-group is. They don’t particularly care who the out-group is, Altemeyer finds they’ll aggress against any group an authority figure points to, even, if they don’t notice it, a group that contains them. They just have to believe the in-group is the norm.

This is why they have to believe games journalism is corrupt because of a handful of feminist media critics with outsized influence. Legitimate failures of journalism cannot be systemic problems rooted in how digital media is funded and consumed; there cannot be a legitimate market for social justice-y media. It has to be manipulation by the few. Because, if these things are common, then, even if you don’t like them, they’re normal. They’re part of the in-group. Reactionary politics is rebellion against things they dislike getting normalized, because they know, if they are normalized, they will have to accept them. Because the thing they care about most is being normal.

This is why the echo chamber, this is why Fox News, this is why the Far Right insists they are the “silent majority.” This is why they artificially inflate their numbers. This is why they insist facts are “biased.” They have to maintain the image that what are, in material terms, fringe beliefs are, in fact, held by the majority. This is why getting mocked by Stephen Colbert was such a blow to GamerGate. It makes it harder to believe the world at large agrees with them.

This is why, if you’re trying to change the world for the better, it’s pointless to ask their permission. Because, if you change the world around them, they will adapt even faster than you will.

THE ARGUMENT ISN’T SUPPOSED TO END

Casey Explosion has this really great Twitter thread comparing the Alt-Right to Scary Terry from Rick and Morty. His catchphrase is “you can run but you can’t hide, bitch.” And Rick and Morty finally escape him by hiding. And Morty’s all, “but he said we can’t hide,” and Rick is like, “why are we taking his word on this? if we could hide, he certainly wouldn’t tell us.”

The reason to argue with a GamerGater is on the implied agreement that, if you can convince them they’re part of a hate mob, they will leave. But look at the incentives here: they want to be in GamerGate, and you want them not to be. But they’re already in GamerGate. They’re not waiting on the outcome of this argument to participate. They’ve already got what they want; they don’t need to convince you GamerGate isn’t a hate mob.

This is why all their logic and rationalizations are shit, because they don’t need to be good. They’re not trying to win an argument. They’re trying to keep the argument going.

This has been a precept of conservative political strategy for decades. “You haven’t convinced us climate change is real and man-made, you need to do more studies.” They’re not pausing the use of fossil fuels until the results come in. “You haven’t convinced us there are no WMDs in Iraq, you need to collect more evidence.” They’re not suspending the war until you get back to them. “You haven’t convinced us that Reaganomic tax policy causes recessions, let’s just do it for another forty years and see what happens.” And when the proof comes in, they send us out for more, and we keep going.

The biggest indicator you can’t win a debate with a reactionary is they keep telling you you can. The biggest indicator protest and deplatforming works is they keep telling you in plays into their hands. The biggest indicator that you shouldn’t compromise with Republicans is they keep saying doing otherwise is stooping to their level. They’re not going to walk into the room and say, “Hi, my one weakness is reasoned argument, let’s pick a time and place to hash this out.”

And we fall for it because we’re trying to be decent people. Because we want to believe the truth always wins. We want to bargain in good faith, and they are weaponizing our good faith against us. Always dangling the carrot that the reason they’re like this is no one’s given them the right argument not to be. It’s all just a misunderstanding, and, really, it’s on us for not trying hard enough.

But they have no motivation to agree with us. Most of the people asking for debates have staked their careers on disagreeing with us. Conceding any point to the Left could cost them their livelihood.

WHY GAMES?

Let’s close with the big question: why games? And, honestly, the short answer is:

why not games?

Games culture has always presented itself as a hobby for young, white, middle class boys. It’s always been bigger and more diverse than that, but that’s how it was marketed, and that’s who most felt they belonged. As gaming grows bigger, there is suddenly room for those marginal voices that have always been there to make themselves heard. And, as gaming becomes more mainstream, it’s having its first brushes with serious critical analysis.

This makes the people who have long felt gaming was theirs and theirs alone anxious and a little angry. They’ve invested a lot of their identity in it and they don’t want it to change.

And what the Far Right sees in a sizable collection of aggrieved young men is an untapped market. This is why sites like Stormfront and Breitbart flocked to them. These are not liberals they have to convert, these people are, up til now, not politically engaged. The Right can be their first entry to politics.

The world was changing. Nerd properties were exploding into popular culture in tandem with media representation diversifying. And we were living with the first Black President. Any time an out-group looks like it might join the in-group, there is a self-protective backlash from the existing in-group. This had been brewing for a while, and, honestly, if it hadn’t boiled over in games, it would have boiled over somewhere else.

And, in the years since GamerGate, it has. The Far Right has tapped the comics, Star Wars, and sci-fi fandoms; they tried to get in with the furry community but failed spectacularly. They’re all over YouTube and, frankly, the atheist community was already in their pocket. Basically, if you’re in community with a bunch of young white guys who think they own the place, you might wanna have some talks with them sooner than later.

Anyway, if you want to know more about any of this stuff, RationalWiki’s timeline on GamerGate is pretty thorough. You can also watch my or Dan Olson’s videos on the subject. I’ll be putting the audio of this talk on YouTube and will put as many resources as I can in the show notes. The channel, again, is Innuendo Studios.

Sorry this was such a bummer.

Thank you for your time.

[mochiiikko]

Locked out

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I’m terrible at titles

The six x reader tag is dry y'all wtf

Warning(s) : Cathy says a few ✨nsfw✨ things, heavily implied fem!reader but they/them pronouns is used, cursing

Summary : Cathy gets locked out of the house and asks to stay the night with you. And at the end of the night you find yourself in bed with a former monarch

°•☆▪︎☆•°•☆▪︎☆•°•☆▪︎☆•°•☆▪︎☆•°

Shit.

Cathy turned around at the slight bang, to reveal what she already expected : The front door closed due to the wind.

“Keys, Cathy keys-" Cathy desperately went through their pockets. "Come on Parr you're supposed to be the smart one-!" They searched for a few minutes. Though all in vain as they groaned and slid to the floor.

They reached for their phone, and whether it was pure luck or fate, they did atleast bring that with them.

They thought about texting Catherine for a moment— But decided against it, 'it's the middle of the show— She won't even have her phone.'

Cathy scrolled through their contacts, trying to figure out anyone they could ask for help.

Their eyes landed quickly, the alternate that had a day off— Rightfully so, Being a super swing they do a lot of covers.

They contemplated their options before opening it, realizing they really didn't have any other options.

—

Cathy Parr : Heyyyy- could i ask for a favor

{Y/N} : Course- what do you need?

Cathy Parr : could you come pick me up i locked myself out of the house :))). And could i stay with you for the night- maybe- please-

{Y/N} : You what-

Cathy Parr : Pls pls pls, I'll ask Catherine if she can give you a few more days off pls.

{Y/N} : Okay okay, i'm coming- this better be a one time thing

Cathy Parr : ofc no worries

—

Cathy cheered— Thanking the gods they asked for all the alts their numbers.

It was originally for calling in sick, till it became making a group chat of the entire cast and talking a lot more outside of the show

Soon enough a car pulled up, Thank god they all knew eachother's adresses in case of emergency.

"Alright, Get in before i change my mind." You lowered the Car's window to speak to Cathy— Who looked almost in awe at seeing you in completely casual attire.

"Right." They snapped out of their trance and got up from the side walk, taking the passengers seat, sending a smile your way.

As the car started up, you decided to make conversation, it would make an awkward night if you didn't talk to the survivor at all.

"How did you end up like this?"

Cathy stared at you before giggling, "i was throwing away leftovers from takeout— No one besides me would want it anyway. I forgot my keys and the door shut because of the wind." You raised a brow before responding.

"Makes sense, i suppose."

The rest of the ride was spent with small talk, You were having small talk— with a former queen. If you'd told anyone about this you doubt they'd believe you.

Soon enough you'd arrived at your home, Cathy staring in awe, despite knowing where you live and being able to come over any time, they never actually did, assuming you'd be uncomfortable with them just showing up.

You chuckled lightly at the wonder in Cathy's eyes as you opened the car door, the noise basically smacking them out of their thoughts and quickly following you out of the car and into your house.

Inside, Cathy looked around. It wasn't much— but it was still pretty.

"You wait here, i'll see if the geust bedroom is available." Cathy raised a brow, did you already have someone over?

You laughed at them, "It's just because it's normally a huge mess, no one ever comes over to spend a night it's basically a storage room with a bed in the middle." Cathy let out a noise of understanding.

“Make yourself feel at home! Or— Whatever they always say.” Cathy chuckled, barely audible to you as you walked away to the geust room. 

After a few minutes you returned, Startling Cathy when you started talking. “It is absolutely not, It’s a mess. Unless you like sleeping in between dirt bags, which in that case go ahead.” Cathy snickered, shaking their head. “Rather not. I imagine it’s rather uncomfortable.” 

You smiled. “If you want you can sleep on my bed, i’m fine sleeping on the couch.” 

“Wait-”

“Because it seems rather rude to have the geust sleep on the couch.”

“We could sleep togheter.” 

You blinked. Once. Twice. Thrice.

“What?” 

“I don’t want you to sleep on the couch either- It’s your house after all. And i wouldn’t mind sleeping in the same bed.” Cathy’s face slowly became a dark shade of red, only now realizing what they really said.

“But i don’t know- You don’t have to-” 

“I wouldn’t mind.” 

“Oh-” 

Cathy stared into space for a minute, processing your answer. “Do you have any sleeping clothes with you by some kind of miracle?” You asked, way to casually for the flustered queen to understand. Cathy smiled sheepishly, their face becoming even more red. “I have a bra on?” You grimaced. “Who in their right mind sleeps while wearing a bra.” 

Cathy grinned, seeing an oppurtunity. “Want me to sleep naked then?” 

This time your face went red. “I’ll see if i have anything else for you.” You walked off again, leaving the queen to process everything that just happened. “Oh sweet lord.” Cathy whispered to themself. They put their face in their hands, blushing heavily. 

You returned in only a matter of seconds. Cathy had already calmed down in the short time, but your face was still burning red, Causing a light chuckle from Cathy.

“What’s your size?” 

“I... honestly don’t know.” Cathy said, causing you to throw your head back with a groan. “That means you’re gonna have to see if it fits— And i don’t know if you have the energy to go through my entire closet.”

“I’ll really have to sleep in my bra then.” Cathy joked, Though not really knowing if it was fully a joke. “How the hell do you do that?” You asked. “It’s comfortable?” Cathy shrugged, smiling. You looked at her with confusion for a few more seconds before continuing. 

“I mean if you’re okay, and comfortable, with that.” Cathy nodded. “It’s not like we’ve never seen eachother like that before.”

Cathy had almost said it in something others would consider a romantic way. It was almost like they were suggesting something different— Of course you knew that wasn’t it. But you still blushed at the thought.

Cathy laughed as she saw your blush grow. “Don’t worry! I’m  not suggesting anything!”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding

“Unless you want me to—”

You slapped your hand over your mouth, blushing furiously. Cathy laughed harder. “I’m kidding, i’m kidding!” They threw their hands up in defence. “I’m only teasing you. Promise.” Cathy grinned. 

“Right—, Yeah let’s just go to sleep now.” You walked off to your bedroom, leaving Cathy to undress. 

The moment you sat down you slammed your head down on your pillow. Processing the entire situation. You quickly went to your closet to change yourself. 

A few minutes after you were done Cathy walked into the room. 

Cathy smiled sheepishly. “Well time to sleep then?”

You raised your brow. “Shouldn’t you message the others about where you are?” You asked, Cathy chuckling in response. “I’m an adult.” 

“Doesn’t always seem like it.”

“Hey-!” 

You laughed as Cathy crossed their arms in mock anger. “I’m 21 thank you.” 

“21 going on 5 then.” You chuckled as Cathy gasped. “Let’s just get to bed!” Cathy walked over to the bed, ushering you over to the other side. You quickly thanked the gods you decided to get a double bed as Cathy pulled you down.

“Lay down you maniac!”  Cathy grinned playfully holding you down to the matress. “For the first time in my life i want to sleep, which means you have to as well.” They looked up at you for a reaction, grinning more when you rolled your eyes but obeyed. 

“Like i said 21 going on 5.” You smiled as Cathy turned the remaining bed side lamp off. 

“Fuck off.” 

“Can’t exactly do that now can i-” 

“Shut up! Go to sleep.” 

And as you both layed down and finally went to sleep, you realized you'd have some feelings to work out.

[unwanted-animal]

Matt/Frank : T E E T H

Explicit. M/M.

Tags/CW: Teeth, Mouth Likely, Consensual Torture, Blood, Tooth Trauma, Dark, Romance, Don/sub, Rutting, Coming In Pants, Bloody Kisses, Please Do Not Let Matt Murdock Perform Oral Surgery On You

My gifts for @lovetincture for this year’s @daredevilexchange :D The prompt I chose to roll with was “Romantic Teeth Trauma”, and it lit a spark inside me! Which is why my gift is two moodboards, a playlist, AND a fic lol

AO3 for the playlist and Alt Text (will be live when the collection opens!)

“Are you sure about this, Frank?”

Matt crouched in front of the chair, head tilted to the side as he listened for any changes in Frank. His breathing. His heart rate. His tone. If there was any sign he wasn’t confident about his request, Matt planned to stop. Frank liked pain, sure, but this? This was beyond normal pain.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure, Red. Only you. Anyone else I wouldn’t think about it, but you? You get me. I, I trust you. Y’know?”

“And you want no anesthesia?”

“None.”

No change. Even breathing. Steady heart rate. Frank was out of his goddamn mind, letting a blind man cut out one of his teeth. The thought brought a smile to Matt’s lips. Frank was mad, but that madness, that dedication to seeing things through, that only endeared him to him. He patted Frank’s leg gently and stood up.

“Okay. Can you reach the tools, push them toward me? Please?”

The rattle of metal filled his senses, making the room feel full and featureless. Matt groaned and shook his head to clear the cloud stifling his ‘sight’. Once the tray stopped, his access to the space returned. Deep shades of red, sparked by changes in the environment, that let him see - in a sense.

His world on fire.

Frank burned brightly in his special sense. Rugged, body made of valleys and hills and broken roads, sound made him shine. And Frank? Frank shone the loudest when he screamed.

Matt placed one hand on the handle of the cart. The other hovered over the tools.

“Scalpel,” he said softly.

“Four inches to your left. Blade facing away from you.”

He followed Frank’s instructions and lifted the surgical knife from the cloth. It was cool in his grasp, the handle weighted and the blade light and sharp enough to cut through muscle and tendon. Matt let out a slow breath. His hands were steady — no tremor. No fear.

Just a blind man performing intimate oral surgery.

“Once I’m in your mouth you won’t be able to instruct me, so if there’s anything you need to say to me, Frank? Now’s the time.”

Something about Frank’s gaze, Matt could always feel . He stared at him now , and from the way his pulse quickened he knew it was affectionate. Tender. He’d seen that look once, when the sirens lit the graveyard after the Irish. That hangdog, loving look in Frank’s sad eyes turned to him now, and he was certain there was a hint of madness to it. Of thrill. Frank wanted this. Hell, it’d been his idea.

“Yeah. Yeah, I got somethin’. Yeah. Matt?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t fuck it up,” Frank teased. “I love you.”

Matt smirked.

“I know. Open up for me.”

Frank opened his mouth, as wide as he could. His wrists tugged against the handcuffs holding them to the legs of the chair, the rattle reassuring. Frank wouldn’t get out if the pain was too great, which meant Matt wouldn’t wind up with a fist in his face when he dug into the root. It was a precaution, sure, but he had to admit he liked Frank tied up.

At his mercy .

Matt slipped two fingers inside his waiting mouth and slid them along his tongue. Frank shuddered, gagging slightly as he pressed down. Drool pooled around his hand and ran down, down the curve of his chin, spattering on his bare chest. Matt felt the wetness and smiled down at Frank.

“I bet you can do better than that.”

He lifted the scalpel and guided his fingers up. Picking a molar was the hard part. Humming, Matt tapped between three of them, whispering that familiar mantra.

“One batch. Two batch. Penny and dime — Ah. This one.”

The back molar. One Frank wouldn’t even know was missing.

“Here we go, Frank.”

All he got was a huff of a growl in response.

Matt pressed the blade into the soft meat of Frank’s gum. Blood welled from the wound, mixing with the drool, and Matt wished he could see it. The ecstatic look of agony carved into Frank’s Roman features, the mess he made, the wild rush burning in his eyes… He cut again. Again. Tracing the tooth. Beneath him, Frank snarled and roared.

“That’s right. Like that. Make noise, nobody will hear you here. Nobody but me.”

His noise made it easier for Matt to see what he was doing. Vibrations traveled through his mouth, and the loose skin he sliced through swayed from side to side. Soon he had most of the tooth exposed, the gums cut and peeled back with careful - if amateur - care. Frank pulled against the cuffs and rocked the chair as his fingers touched the wound, but Matt didn’t stop.

Frank had had plenty of time to revoke consent before. He didn’t. His fingers weren’t tapping out his safeword on the wood. Frank loved being out of control, submitting to Matt in such a deep, intimate way. Pain, even the extreme kind, wasn’t foreign to their relationship nor their sex.

This, this was dedication. A declaration. One far more beautiful than any other words or gestures could be.

Matt used Frank’s moans to find the forceps. He traded out his scalpel for the pointed steel, clicking them together a few times as Frank simply sat there shaking. His lips trembled, but he kept his mouth open to the cool air.

A good dog. Loyal. Obedient.

He guided the new tool inside, easily finding his way back. The blood dripping on his knuckles couldn’t be missed. Matt’s forceps closed around the tooth and he began to pry. Grunting, he pumped his arm, moving the bone in its tight little socket. Frank roared in pain, hips coming up and rubbing against Matt’s thigh.

He was hard, hard enough that the brief touch sent a shiver down Frank’s spine. Matt grinned, his dimples deep as he pressed his thigh back in response.

“Rut. Like a dog. I wouldn’t want to leave you all worked up, not when you’re behaving for me. Go on. Consider it a reward. A treat, Frank.”

Frank didn’t hesitate. He started thrusting against Matt, breathing hard through his nose as his cock strained against his jeans. A low moan vibrated in his throat as Matt yanked again, pulling, fighting to get the tooth free of his jaw. Frank screamed around his hands, tears flowing down his cheeks, and Matt’s world burst with vivid red color. He could see Frank. See the blood. See the wide-eyed and hungry stare Frank fixed on him. He was a beacon at the center of Matt’s world, pulsing with every shuddering sob.

“Beautiful,” he said, voice low and soft. “You make the world so beautiful .”

A loud crack split the air. Another. Another, as Matt leveraged his strength to force it out. With one last tug it snapped free of Frank’s jaw, clutched firmly in the forceps. Frank slammed his hips forward as he came, eyes rolling back in his head as that final surge of pain pushed him over the edge. Matt stumbled backward and held the tooth up triumphantly. His prize. His token.

While Frank’s sounds grew quiet, Matt’s vision faded back to darkness. He couldn’t see the sloppy smile on Frank’s face as he drooled blood onto his bare chest.

“… That,” Frank slurred, barely able to move his jaw. His words were mumbled, accompanied by dribbling blood. “Is yours. Yeah. Gonna take it to, to, to your guy. Drill a hole, get a chain. Wear it. Always.”

Matt released the tooth into his hand and ran his bloody thumb over the bone.

Frank’s bone.

A piece of him, to keep forever.

“… I love you, Frank. You know that?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know. I, I love you too.”

He slipped the tooth into his pocket and lowered himself down on Frank’s filthy lap. His hands were just as messy, bloodied up almost to the elbow from Frank’s coughing and screaming. He slid one through Frank’s curls and tugged him into a rough, heated kiss. Blood filled his mouth, and Matt let it. He savored the taste of Frank. It was no different from kissing him with a split lip.

Except this time he could swallow the mess.

[ripperdaddy]

the viktor vector romance path + ending we deserve

Disclaimer: This is definitely something I came up with in my head. There will be a few instances that are solely made up so it can tie in with the “story.” This is purely fictional; something I wished happened if there was a possible Vik romance 🥰 This is based on my general knowledge of the game & Vik’s life. All gifs + images are from my own personal play through, but wouldn’t be possible without the help of the Appearance Menu Mod, found on Nexus Mods by the creators, MaximiliumM and CtrlAltDaz. And the shirtless Vik mod by the lovely samsnak ♡

It would start after completing the Paid In Full quest where you pay Vik back the eddies you owe him.

I feel like realistically, the general player would have to be at least halfway through the story to have collected enough eddies. I would say that a good point in the story where we can begin the romance is that you’ve already established a connection to Alt and have dealt with the VDB’s.

I think it would be a short side quest like River’s. Vik already plays a big part in the story overall on his own, so I don’t think it’s necessary to make his “side quest” too long. His romance would just be an addition to the ending.

And as much as I would love for him to be a bisexual option for both male/female V, if we’re sticking with the game’s standard with limiting partners to only one kind of partner, he would only be romance-able by a female V with a feminine voice.

V: Finally scrounged up enough eddies to pay you back in full.

Vik: Hold on to ‘em just in case - you need ‘em more than me.

V: I’m not taking them all the way to my grave, Vik. Here. And.. thanks again for doing so much work on me ‘thout ever seein’ an enny.

Vik: That’s what friends are for.

Then, there is an additional option for dialogue to trigger the romance path.

V: Friends? I think you’ve been in and out of my body more than anyone else I’ve hooked up with in Night City.

He laughs, with a coy smile. “Well, can’t argue with you there. Why don’t we take some of these eddies and grab a drink. You know, to celebrate. Catch up on old times. Haven’t seen you round here much lately, kid.”

You agree to meet at the El Coyote Cojo tomorrow evening.

You meet around 9 PM and you are welcomed by the sight of Pepe and Vik at the bar.

V: Nice choice of venue.

Vik: Thought you’d like it. Haven't been here since.. well, you know.

V: I miss him, Vik.

Vik: I know, V. Me too.

You immediately take a seat and tinker with a few dialogue options, where you can either have a sweet moment talking about Jackie or some surface questions to ask, like how he’s doing, what kind of drink he likes, etc. But it all winds down to Jackie anyway, where Vik confides in you about his past. Judging by how Vik was so affected by Jackie’s death, and V’s (if you chose the suicide ending), you can tell that he has lost a lot in his life, and keeps his circle very small.

You then achieve an even closer, more personal relationship with him. But, ultimately nothing happens other than the usual, wait 24 hours in game for a text/phone call from Vik to head into the next stage. At least now, you have established the foundation for a future romance.

Halfway through the 24 hour period, you get a text from Vik thanking you for the lovely evening. No reply needed, as he calls you once the 24 hour mark hits and invites you out for another date.

You meet at Tom’s Diner for coffee in the afternoon. It starts off with him apologizing for being emotional the previous night and asks if you’re open to hanging out again and going down to Pacifica to watch a fight with him.

Vik: Hey, V. I just wanted to apologize about last night. I didn’t mean to be such a downer.

V: It’s okay, Vik. We share the same grief.

Vik: I was going to head down to Pacifica and catch a real good match later on today. I was wondering if you’d like to come along, think it’d be great for the both of us, you know, as a distraction.

pssst even Johnny’s rooting for y’all ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Johnny: Hmm, interesting.

V: What?

Johnny: Never thought you'd be going out with this guy.

V: Vik's amazing. And I mean--we basically owe it to him since he practically saved our life.

Johnny: Don't tell me you're going out with him out of pity.

V: I'm not.

Johnny: I know, I can feel you get all mushy-gushy. It's almost repulsive. Just wanted to hear you admit it.

V: Eat a dick, Johnny.

You arrive before the GIM and blend into the crowd.

V: Nothin’ like watching guys beat the shit out of each other to get your blood pumpin’, huh?

Vik: This is a real good matchup, V. This kid’s fresh, young talent.

V: You miss it, don’t you?

Before the fight begins, Vik shares a story about his time in the ring and coming in second in the Watson Boxing Grand Prix.

There’s some extra fun options in the dialogue, you can bet some eddies on who’s gonna win, or side with him. The fight ends, and you two head outside.

Since you’re already out in Pacifica, you head over to the boardwalk (where you would ride the roller coaster with Johnny) and he starts telling you about the last days of his boxing career and how he transitioned from the sport to being a ripperdoc.

You both share a sweet moment with each other, reminiscing about old times and talking about V’s future with the relic. This is where I would see Vik confessing how he feels about you, mentioning how grateful he is for Jackie introducing you to him.

The evening ends and Vik asks you to give him some time to try and dig up some footage from his storage and have you come over to watch. You can kiss him then wait another 24 in game hours before the last quest. Halfway through, he texts you and asks you what you’d like for dinner. You can opt for pizza or chinese.

I haven’t seen or read anything about how or where Vik lives. If I overlooked something, please let me know! But for the sake of the story, let’s say he does actually have his own place that’s now introduced in the game. Personally, I think he has a typical bachelor pad, like a really nice apartment. Not too far from his clinic either. He looks like he would just walk to work. Vik definitely has a lot of money, but he’s so humble I doubt he would choose to live lavishly. As mentioned in the beginning, he typically just “sleeps nights” ever since he was over “being a legend” so I’m guessing his lifestyle is very routine. He goes to work, goes home, sleep. Seems unlikely he has a place like the Peralez’s. It would probably be just the same as V’s but decorated to his taste.

The evening comes and you are over at his place. He’s dressed in just a white undershirt, no exo-glove. You get to know more about his family, how he grew up — scanning things around his place. Then he plays some footage of one of his fights for you, while you two have a conversation and share a beer. As you two sit on the couch, you get close, then have an opportunity to kiss him.

then this is where da sex happen hihihi (ノ・ω・)ノ

The next morning you wake up and you two have a heartfelt conversation about where this is going. He already knows your situation, so I would assume he is very accepting and supportive. And with Vik, he seems like the kind of guy who would still want to be in your life and keep the friendship the same way despite no longer being together romantically. So it’s official. He’s your man 🥵 !!11!1!

Like how River gives you the “fuck the police” tank top after sleeping with him, I think Vik would give you his Night City Devils t-shirt that provides you with a significant amount of armor or some kind of cyberware upgrade that makes you invulnerable for a brief moment while using your hands to fight enemies.

Note: I was thinking of Vik giving V his boxing glove necklace, but because it's part of his character's appearance in the game, I don't think we would be able to essentially "take it" from him - unless he gives you a replica as a keepsake. Which I think would also work.

If you successfully romance, during the rooftop scene near the end of Nocturne OP55N1 (despite Vik’s disposition of him telling you to take matters in your own hands and being a little closed off), you still have an option to reach out to him when Johnny advises you to call a loved one.

V: Hey, Vik. I just wanted to say, thanks for hanging with me, until the end.

Vik: Quit talking like it is, V. Just do what you need to do.

V: I mean, think of it. It’s like I’m heading into the last round of this whole thing.

Vik: Well, in that case.. remember—keep your hands up, guarded at all times. It ain’t over just yet.

V: Heh.. I can feel it, just a few more punches.

Vik: Now look at you - the new welterweight champ of Night City.

V: Thanks, coach.

Vik: Last piece of advice from the coach's corner. Just.. be careful, kid. Remember, I’m with you.

Okayyyy, soooo I’m not the biggest fan of how CDPR gave us two of the same endings (Path of Glory). The only difference is that Rogue’s life is spared. I would have assumed that not only would we get to keep Rogue around, things should have played a bit more differently for V if we took the route of going solo against the corpos. So let’s tweak it.

This specific ending; it should be after getting through Don’t Fear The Reaper where you single-handedly manage to rip through Arasaka by yourself. Johnny goes back to Alt & Rogue is still alive. Yes nobody dies!!!

(honestly this ending can apply to any love interest you choose)

Vik and V are now living together in a lavish penthouse, entertaining an upcoming merc to do their work for them (which is now the current POV of the player.) You were recruited by Rogue at the Afterlife, who told you to visit this couple for a real, preem job.

They give you some vague details about the gig and go on for a brief moment about what you will be doing and what you should expect. Vik emphasizes to you that it’s important you get what they need because it’s for his wife, V, as her life depends on it.

As Never Gonna Fade Away is playing in the background, they tell you to break into Arasaka HQ.

Then the game officially ends.

[wilderhockey]

wip wednesday

aka a collection of snippets of things I've been working on for a while

(transcriptions in alt text)

this comes from a prompt we were doing with the kids at tutoring, where they were setting stories in a park. I started jotting down notes when not being asked questions and it escalated rapidly. its quinn/thatcher with background shenanigans from the tkachuks and canucks. it is also the document that has "worms? can I find a way to work worms into this?" in the notes section

on the theme of quinn and the tkachuks, here's part of a quinn/matthew post-trade fic that I wrote in my gmail drafts at work one day. it doesn't have an ending which is why it's not posted yet. it's sorta inspired by the song "I think I like you" by the band camino

ah, yes. the publishing house au. hi I'm an english major doing an editing and publishing certificate but I'm not actually going into publishing so I gotta find a way to use this information somehow. this fic has already been like seven months in the making bc I was writing parts of it in europe. basically it's nico/nolan/jack with jack as a debut novelist, nico as his agent, and nolan as his editor. it's gonna be Long and I'm taking another publishing class this sem that's gonna give me a ton more info to incorporate

cyborg au baybeeee let's go! basically jack and nico have some History and jack gets hurt and has to go to nico, thus forcing them to Talk It Out. yes there will be heartfelt conversations, yes there will be the inherent vulnerability of letting someone fuck around with your nervous system, and yes there will be self-destructive tendencies all around. what more could you ask for

anyway go check out the boldy/fiala fic I posted this weekend if you're interested

thank

[faofinn]

Febuwhump Day 4 - “I can’t lose you too” (Alt Prompt 2)

@febuwhump

Part 1 // Part 2

Sheila was working when the call came through, her phone buzzing uselessly in her locker.  By the time her break came round, it was a long while later, her battery nearly dead and several missed calls from a number she didn’t recognise. Food in the microwave, she perched against the bench and pressed play.

“Sheila? Sheila ‘m sorry. They asked me who I wanted to call an’ -and I didn’t know who else. ‘m really scared and I’m in hospital and you always said I could call.” Her heart sank, fear taking over. “I’m sorry. I lost my phone an’ I couldn’t remember your number. I don’t even know if this is your number still. I fucked up and I’m sorry. You an’ Fred were the best family an’ you did so much for me an-and I’ve done this. I didn’t have time to do anything and then I was here. You were a mum to me, and Fred was the best … best dad I had...I’m sorry. I don’t wanna be alone, Sheila. I know you’re busy and you’ve probably forgotten me and I’m sorry, I’m just scared.”

The beep sounded and she didn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. It had been a few months since she’d heard from him, and even then it was just a passing text to tell her happy birthday. He was still her child, one of her first fosters, and still family. He sounded in a bad way and she could hear the flurry of activity in the hospital around the panic in his voice. It took no time to make her mind up, briefly telling a colleague she was going before disappearing, her lunch still in the microwave.

She tried Fred on the way, to no avail, leaving him a slightly more composed voicemail than had been left on hers. The hospital was no luck either, stuck on hold until the dialing rang out. 

The car was left abandoned in the carpark as she rushed through to the ED, pushing past the queue at the desk. “Hi, sorry, my son was brought in earlier - Jason Hardy - I got a phone call from him.”

“Just a second ma’am, there’s a queue.” 

“Yeah, it’ll take two seconds. Jason Hardy. Can you tell me where he is?”

With an irritated sigh, the receptionist tapped away on the computer, face falling slightly. “I’m just going to get a nurse.”

Sheila knew it was bad, she’d heard the panic and desperation in his voice, and seeing the look on the receptionist’s face...it only made it worse. 

A nurse arrived to greet Sheila quite quickly, a forced smile on her face. “Sheila Daniels?”

“Is he still alive?”

“He is. He’s in a bad way, but he’s alive. We’re gonna take you through now.”

She followed her through. “How bad is he? I got the phone call…”

“It’s touch and go, I’m afraid.”

She swallowed thickly. “What happened?”

“There was a car accident.”

“No.” 

“I’m afraid so.”

“But he’s going to be okay, right?”

“We’re doing our best.”

She knew what that meant. “So, no.”

“You know we can’t make any promises. But we’re doing our absolute best to give him the best shot.”

“I’ve been through it before with my other two. You don’t need to lie to me.”

“I'm not lying to you, I promise. We're doing our best for him.”

"I don't doubt you are, but I know what it means, when you say that. The look you all have…"

“I’m sorry. It’s a difficult situation.”

"He was one of my first fosters." Sheila said quietly. "Stayed with me a long while, and then would come and stay for reprieve occasionally."

“That’s very admirable of you. Foster parents are such a lifeline. I’m sure he’ll appreciate you being here.” The nurse said, letting herself into the ICU.

"He said he couldn't remember my number. I should have been here."

“You’re here now, that’s what counts. No use dwelling on the ‘should haves’.”

She shook her head. "That doesn't make it better."

“I know it’s difficult, but we can’t change the past. You’re here now, and he’ll appreciate you being here.”

Sheila hesitated. "How bad is he?"

“Critical, but he’s been improving gradually.”

"Surgery?"

“Hopefully later, if he’s stable enough.”

"If."

“With the way things are going, he’ll be in surgery later this afternoon. But it’s the surgeon’s decision when they see him.”

She nodded. "Okay. Thank you."

“His bed is just down here.” She said, leading her down the ward. 

Sheila thanked her again, stood outside Jason's bay. He'd grown since she'd last seen him, a beard growing on his face and his blond hair a mess. She couldn't help but frown; it was parted wrong, and he'd always hated that.

"Jason?" She took his hand. "I'm sorry it took so long, but I'm here now. I've got you, yeah?"

The nurses gave Sheila as much space as they could, giving her time to sit with her old foster. He was in and out of consciousness, and definitely very, very poorly, but there was no doubt he knew she was there. His obs even improved a little. 

She sorted his hair, adjusted the specs on his nose, and then waited. She'd get the occasional response from him as she chatted away, promising him they'd have a room for him to get him back on his feet.

After a while, the surgeon arrived, startled by Sheila in the bay. “Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't think there was family with him.”

"I've not long been here, sorry."

“Well, I'm glad he has someone. I'm Dr Knight, one of the senior surgical registrars on his case. I'm happy to have a chat with you?”

She nodded. "Do you need to go somewhere else? Or can we stay here?"

“No, absolutely fine to stay here.” He said, taking a seat. “Are you his mother?”

"Uh, I guess. I was his foster mum for a long, long time."

“Well, that's good enough in my books. Unfortunately, as I'm sure you've been told already, he's very unwell. We've been trying to get him stable enough for surgery for a while now, I've just come to do some final checks before we make our decision.”

"If you don't take him to surgery, what's the prognosis?"

“Not good, I'm afraid. He had a procedure after he was admitted to control his internal bleeding, but unfortunately it's not worked as well as we'd hoped it would. He's very weak.”

"And if you wait a few days, let him get some strength up?"

“We think it's more likely he'll deteriorate in that time. We have a small window of opportunity here.”

"And this surgery, how...how likely is it to succeed?" She barely dared to ask.

“It's a hail mary, I'm afraid. But it's better than doing nothing. His best shot at recovery.” He reached out to rest a hand on her knee in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. “I understand this is incredibly difficult to hear. This isn't a decision we're taking lightly. But he's young and he deserves the best possible chance, even if the odds are slim.”

She shook her head. "It isn't fair on him."

“You don't agree with our decision to do this surgery?”

"Oh, no, no. Not that. All of this. He shouldn't be here. He was meant to have his life sorted and be living. Not stuck in limbo." She sniffed, trying to stop the tears.

“Ah. I understand this is upsetting - nobody deserves to be in this situation. We're going to do our absolute best for him. We have been doing our absolute best for him from the start. None of us would be considering this surgery if we didn't believe it was in his best interests.” He handed her a tissue, neatly folded in his pocket. “I know I said we have a window of opportunity, but there's time for you to spend with him now. We're not going to rush in just yet.”

"If he needs it, if it's his best chance, then he should go now though, right? So he can come out sooner, and start to recover?"

“We still have some preparations to do first. I'm just here to assess his condition. He seems to have improved since you've arrived.” He said gently. “We'll take him as soon as we're ready for him. But I just wanted to make sure you knew that you have time to spend with him now.”

She forced a smile. "Thank you. For everything."

“Not a problem. I know how difficult this is. Please don't hesitate to grab the nurses if you need anything at all. Can I get someone to bring you food? Something to drink?”

"No, thank you. I'm okay. I'll just stay with him for the time being."

He nodded. “That's absolutely fine. But we can provide you with food, tea, anything. This is probably harder for you than it is for him.”

"Yeah. He'd tell me off for crying, sorry. It was just a bit of a shock."

“Of course, of course. Don't apologise, please. In your position I'd be a sobbing mess.”

"I've had a bit of practice over the years." She laughed slightly. "Normally always the boys, too." 

“Other fosters?”

She nodded. "Quite a few. Some of the scraps they'd get themselves into...I'm just being a pain, don't let me keep you."

“Not a pain in the slightest. I just need to do a few checks, yeah?”

"Go ahead. Don't let me get in the way."

He nodded and stood up, though rested a gentle hand on her shoulder before he moved to check Jason over. Thankfully he had improved, and he was happy they were making the right decision. 

“I ought to go now, and make sure things are being sorted. But you're more than welcome to ask the nurses for me, or any of his team. We'd be happy to come down and speak with you again if you need.”

"Thank you." She glanced at him with a small smile before turning back to face Jason. He was her priority. 

The surgeon left her alone again, save for the occasional nurse popping in to check on him. She apologised again, in his brief moment of consciousness, smoothing his hair back down. Fred still didn’t answer his phone, leaving her alone, dealing with the mess herself.

They gave Sheila as much time as they could. It wasn't ideal, but she needed all the time she could get. Eventually they had no choice, though, and they had to go ahead with the surgery. They sent in a nurse with a porter, as much as Chris wanted to be there, he couldn't. He had too much to do. 

Sheila held her tears in as she said her goodbyes, promising him she’d be there when he came round. She held his hand as long as she could, pressing a kiss to his forehead as she was forced to leave. 

“I love you, yeah? It won’t be long and then it’ll be okay. I love you.”

They took him after that, the nurse sending Sheila a sad smile. 

The surgery was difficult, and unfortunately it didn't get easier as they went on. He was just too unstable, they couldn't do what they wanted to do. They were thwarted by low blood pressure and arrests looming before the inevitable occurred. They tried and tried, but his body just wasn't strong enough. They had to call it a day, in the end. It wasn't fair to try and keep going when his body had had enough.

It was Fao who called time of death, and so it was him who took the responsibility of speaking to next of kin. He headed out of theatres, heart heavy, and round to the relatives room to find them. 

He couldn't help the way his heart dropped when he saw who was sitting waiting. Sheila. He stumbled slightly, pain flaring in his knee, and he forced himself to keep going. 

“I'm looking for family of Jason Hardy?” He said, trying his best to stay sounding professional.

Sheila raised her head, she knew that voice, knew that tone. "No."

He cleared his throat. “Would you mind coming with me?”

"Fao this isn't real, he's still okay, right? You just had to stop it early for a different reason."

“I'm sorry. Come with me? We can go somewhere quiet to talk.”

She swallowed thickly, standing on shaking legs. It was all just a dream. He was fine, he had to be. 

He led her into a small, private room, shutting the door quietly behind him. He took a deep breath, and sat down opposite her. 

“We did our very best. We made some good progress, but unfortunately he was just too weak. Despite our best efforts to try and stabilise him, he went into cardiac arrest. We tried for some time to resuscitate him, but unfortunately we were,” he paused to clear his throat, “unfortunately we were unsuccessful. He passed away. I'm so sorry.”

She already knew, could tell from the look on his face, the tone in his voice. It was still something else to be told it outright, and worse further that it was her own son telling her. She wrapped her arms around herself, forcing herself to breathe past the lump in her throat. 

Fao cleared his throat again. “I know this is difficult to hear, and I'm sorry I don't have better news for you. I assure you that we did everything we could for him.” 

"Are you sure it was him?" Her voice cracked.

“I’m sure. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

"You're lying."

“I know this is difficult to process. I promise you, I’ve told you the truth.”

“You’re wrong. You’re lying. You’re wrong.”

“I understand this is hard to hear. If you’d like, you’re welcome to go and see him?”

“You don’t understand.” She frowned at him. “You don’t understand anything.”

“Can you help me understand? I’m willing to explain everything, if that would help?”

“He’s gone.”

“I’m afraid so.”

She shook her head. “He’s gone.”

“I can assure you, he wasn’t in any pain.”

“But he was.”

“We did our best to keep his pain well managed.”

“He was in pain and terrified.”

Fao swallowed thickly. “My colleagues did our best to reassure him and ensure his pain was well controlled. He was under anaesthesia, I can assure you he wouldn’t have been in pain when he passed.”

“You didn’t hear the voicemail.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t. If you want to take the matter further, I can give you the number for the hospital PALS department? But I can assure you we did our best to make him comfortable.”

"You don't mean any of that." She frowned at him. "You're just reading off a script. You don't care."

“I care about every patient I treat.” His voice wobbled. “I did everything I could for him, as did my colleagues.” He forced himself to take another deep breath. “I know I’m not the person you want giving you this news. But I would never do any procedure if I didn’t think it was in the patient’s best interests. I wouldn’t have suggested this option for Jason if I didn’t think he could benefit from it.”

Sheila rubbed her eyes, trying to wipe away the tears. The wobble in Fao's voice broke her and she reached out for him.

He handed her a tissue. “Here, it’s alright. I know this is hard to hear.” He said, moving closer to her. 

She pushed the tissue away, choosing instead to grab onto Fao and pull him close. Her fingers tightened around his scrubs and she buried her face in Fao's shoulder.

Instinctively he held her close, rubbing her back. “It’s alright. I know this is hard, I know. It’s okay.”

“He’s gone.”

“I’m sorry, he’s gone.”

Her legs buckled as she sobbed, the pain completely overtaking her.

“It’s alright, I’ve got you.” He soothed.

She gripped onto him tighter. “I should have been there for him.”

“You were. You were right there with him. Chris and the nurses said the whole time you were there, his obs improved.”

“But he didn’t make it.”

“His odds were slim the minute he came through our doors. We all knew that - he knew that. We gave it our best shot, but…” Fao had to clear his throat again, “but his body told us that he’d had enough. Sometimes despite everything, there’s nothing more we can do.”

She was quiet a moment. “I’m glad it was you.”

“If I’d have known…”

“But I know you’d have done everything.”

“Of course. We all did.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m sorry there wasn’t a better outcome.”

“Can I see him?”

“Of course.”

“Can...Can you stay with me?”

“Absolutely.”

“Fred wouldn’t answer and I dont know what Finn’s up to.” She sniffed. “They need to know..”

“Do you want me to try Fred?”

Sheila nodded. “Please.”

“Alright. Can I get you anything? Tea? Water?” He offered, digging in his pockets for his phone. 

“Just you.”

“I’m right here. Not going anywhere.” He said, finding his phone and quickly calling Fred.

She leant into him, tears still falling and her chest aching. She couldn't quite believe it, he was gone and there was nothing she could do.

“It’s alright, it’s okay.” He murmured gently, praying Fred picked up the phone.

The phone rang through, like it had so many times with Sheila. She shook her head as she heard the voicemail, pressing closer to Fao. Deep down, she knew that she should be there for him, not the other way around. He shouldn't be having to tell her that her son was dead. 

“I bet he’s left it somewhere.” Fao said, trying to make his tone light. “You know what he’s like. Come on, why don’t we go and get some fresh air? And then I can take you to see Jason when they’re ready.”

"You're still working."

“I’d say I was due a break, wouldn’t you?”

She nodded with a shaky breath. "Okay."

He stood, and offered her his hand. “Here.”

“Thanks.” She took it, gripping him tight. “I’m sorry.”

“God, why are you sorry?”

“You had to work on him.” Her voice cracked and wobbled. “I know that’s hard.”

“I didn’t know him, Mum. I didn’t even know you were here.”

“I know you beat yourself up over these things.”

He hummed. “We all did our best. I’m sorry there wasn’t a better outcome.”

She bit her lip to stop her sob, bringing a hand up to cover her mouth. The grief was overwhelming, stirring up so many more unwanted emotions.

“Hey, it’s alright.”

She shook her head, dropping Fao’s hand in favor of hugging him. “Promise me you won’t leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere, máthair. Promise.”

“I can’t lose you too.”

Fao made a noise in the back of his throat. “I’m here. You’re not going to lose me.”

She pulled back to look at him, tears flooding her face. “I can’t lose you. You’re my son.”

Fao pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I’m not going anywhere. I love you, yeah?”

[prorevenge]

Falsely Accused of Cheating, Then Dumped

Date: April 2, 2009, a couple days after I turned 30.

I had been dating a wonderful girl, we’ll call her Ratchet, for almost 3 years. And we were good together, I really did see her as my soul mate. We weren't living together yet, but I was just a few weeks away from popping the question. However, as plans will be plans will go awry.

Enter my friend (we’ll call him Skidmark), who I'd known since freshman year at a well known university, he was also a fraternity brother and someone I'd be proud to call a real brother. This is the guy I would've asked to be my best man, and not as it's often portrayed in cheesy romantic comedies or whatever. That is, until his act of betrayal when he told Ratchet (A LIE) that I cheated on her. Also, he had no evidence of said infidelity.

How did this play out? Ratchet had been staying at my place for the past couple days and I arrived home to find her packing her things. When she saw me, she started shouting at me. A lot of it was hard to make out, other than the profanity but here's what I did remember:

"How could you do this to us"

"I can't believe you"

"Skidmark told me everything"

I attempted to interject a few times, almost in tears in one point when I shouted, "Just listen to me for a second!" but she just got all pissy that I yelled at her, and walked out after telling me to get fucked.

So obviously I called Skidmark a few times, left a voicemail asking WTF he told her and wanting to know why he dragged me through the mud like that. The next morning I went over to his apartment - to find that he moved a couple days ago. How convenient.

The next day, I get a call from another good friend of mine (he was a solid guy, so let’s call him Solid - we met at the same university/fraternity) and it went something like this:

"Um, are you sitting down"

"No, what do you want to tell me"

"When did you break up with Ratchet?"

"I didn't, Skidmark told her that I cheated on her and she walked out on me"

"I just drove past that dive in your old neighborhood, she's with him. They were all smiles, holding hands and everything - I was wondering what was ..."

(I disconnected)

So it doesn’t take the guys from True Detective to figure out that he orchestrated this from beginning to end, and his prize was a new girlfriend – now my ex.

At the time, it felt like this backstabbing bastard destroyed my life.

Fast forward to six weeks later ….

On a Friday night Solid went to a popular bar/club in the area to hang out and throw down a few brews. And who do you think walks in about 15 minutes later.

Why, it was Skidmark!

It was a pretty large bar, and Solid apparently did a pretty good job of not being seen, even though he did see a few things:

Skidmark went in alone, but he's talking to some girl maybe 5 minutes later. A few minutes later, he buys her a drink. A few minutes after that, they're on the dance floor.

A few minutes after that .... let's say Skidmark could have gotten arrested if he didn't have consent to put his hands where they were.

Keep in mind, Solid has already sent me several texts about what's been going on. At one point he included several photos of the handsy dancers. In the last photo Skidmark was kissing the girl.

And now he must be melting his phone with how fast the texts are coming in.

"You gotta nail this guy, Ratchet needs to know what's going on!"

"Shit he almost saw me!"

"I had to skip out of there, but I've done enough damage heh heh"

"He was kissing her in that last one, wanna bet he'll go all the way?"

This is where the plan comes together. I tell him to get in touch with Ratchet, and ask her to meet him (about something urgent) at a coffee shop close to where he lives. Note: his place was over 30 min away from where I lived, so hopefully Ratchet wouldn't be suspicious. I recommended a coffee shop because it's a public place with outdoor seating.

Sunday morning, May 17:

I remember everything about this encounter – what I was wearing, what she was wearing, what it smelled like, it’s permanently etched in my memory. I approached a couple minutes after they sat down. Once Ratchet saw me, her face physically changed, and she immediately got up to leave. Solid reached out and grabbed her arm before saying "You owe me, remember? Sit down and listen!"

She reluctantly sits down, and with a very pissy look on her face she asks, "What do YOU want, Parkesc?" ***

I respond, "What he said, sit down and listen" and I ask to borrow his phone so I can call up Skidmark. I hand him mind and tell him to pull up the photos when I give him the signal.

Here’s how the conversation went:

Skidmark answers with "Sup Solid"

I respond, with the speakerphone on, "Well hey buddy!"

There’s a brief pause followed by “uuuh”

“No it’s Parkesc. I hope you don’t mind; I’m using Solid’s phone since mine’s dead.”

(Keep in mind, Skidmark’s voice in the rest of this conversation is pretty sheepish)

“Long time no see man, what’s been going on?”

“A whole lot’s been going on, actually. How was Friday night?”

“How was Friday night?”

“Yeah”

“Why would you ask man … I mean I … I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Yeah I think we both know why you haven’t seen me in a while, but anyway, Solid told me he saw you at the bar the other night, getting down with some hottie.”

“Who said that”

“Solid, you know, our fraternity brother from (that university). And, ummmm, he saw you. With that girl. And he may or may not have taken some pictures.”

“What?”

By the way, Ratchet’s eyes are getting pretty big right now, Solid is motioning her to be quiet. She mouthed the words WHAT THE FUCK as he began to open my phone and go to the pics.

“Yeah I got a LOT of pictures. And you know, I think I can guess who would like to see them.”

“Cmon man, don’t do this man. Why you doin this, man? Why you doin this?”

“What are you kidding me? We haven’t spoken in over a month because you lied to my girlfriend that I was in love with and planning to marry. Now you’re messing around behind HER back.”

“Man it isn’t like I was trying to steal her, man.”

“WELL MAYBE YOU CAN TELL ME WHAT YOU WERE TRYING TO DO, because Solid also mentioned he saw you two together. That was TWO DAYS after she walked out on me.”

“It’s not like that man, and you’re not gonna anything. I know you’re mad, but, cmon man.”

There was a brief pause, and my brain almost did a Ctrl-Alt-Delete after that auditory fuckpoop.

“No, you don’t know. And I’m not gonna CMON MAN.”

“Are you kidding me, you’re really gonna …”

“I’m doing this – right now, in fact. You’ve been on speaker the whole time, and Solid isn’t the only person here with me.”

“WHAT?”

And finally Ratchet chimed in.

“I cannot even believe you did this. What the hell? You’ve totally ….totally been lying to me and now you're cheating on me too?"

“No, no, no it wasn’t ….. FUCK! Really, Parkesc?”

“Basically, they’ve shown me all the pictures, I’ve been looking at them this whole time. What’s wrong with you, Skidmark??”

“I didn’t even know her.”

“What you mean, you didn’t know her??”

“Ok, you know what, fuck you Parkesc!”

And then Solid says his piece:

"WHOA WHOA WHOA, first of all, dude, you stole your best friend's girl with a BS lie, you just admitted it, and you're cheating on her anyhow!"

"Fine, whatever, it didn’t mean anything ….”

Ratchet responds with "Oh Please!” before she hangs up on him and turns toward me. She hands the phone back to Solid and he gives me back my phone with half a smile and a raised eyebrow. He probably expected a gratifying end to this escapade.

“Parkesc I am really sorry, I made a mistake. Is there any way ...."

“Stop right there!” I abruptly interject, with a sharp glare in my eye.

They’re both in shock.

“No, you never believed me, didn’t listen to one word I had to say. And you had no evidence, you just took that fuckhead’s word and walked out on me. Was it worth it?”

Solid was pretty much catatonic, stunned into silence. By the time I was halfway back to my car, I could have sworn I heard Ratchet starting to cry. I wouldn’t know because I refused to look back.

*** By the way, you’re probably wondering what the asterisks were for. Up until that point, there was still a snowflake’s chance in hell that Ratchet and I would get back together. When she didn’t even want to hear me out (yet again), I was done. I just didn’t let her know until I was finished with Skidmark.

I never heard from either of them again. Good riddance.

(source) story by (/u/parkesc)

[something-tofightfor]

Tipping Point - 6

Pairing: Benjamin Greene x Reader (friendship)

Word Count: 7094

Rating: M (language, marital issues)

Summary: His marriage to Julia over (for the most part), Benjamin decides to take control of his life... and of his future. 

Author’s Note: Things are happening. The next few chapters are rapid-fire change... hold on to your butts. 

“Benjamin.” He felt someone nudging his shoulder. “Wake up.” He opened his eyes, blinking slowly and fighting the urge to stretch, though he desperately needed to. My legs weren’t meant to bend like this for so long. He turned to face the man next to him, fighting back a yawn. “You were out.” I was. He rubbed at his eyes, nodding. 

 “Yeah, I didn’t think I’d be able to sleep on a plane, but…” He stifled another yawn. “Nine hours will do it, I guess.” Eric laughed, the outline of his face just visible in the dim lighting. “We landing?” 

 “Yeah, just about.” Eric cracked his neck, pointing at the window. “You might be able to see the lights if you open the window, it’s gonna be dark when we land.” Benjamin reached up, pushing the window shade slowly, and peered through the small window. Nothing yet. Just clouds. Keeping his eyes on the glass, he thought back to the previous six weeks - and the series of events that had led him to his current situation: on a plane with Eric and about to land in Chicago for a three week holiday.

 --- 

 He’d met Julia the following day in front of the law office that they’d initially gone to, the woman dressed casually. “I’m meeting the kids for lunch afterward.” She sniffed, looking him up and down. “See that you didn’t bother to -”

 “I came from work, Julia. I’m on my lunch break.” He shook his head. “Can we just… enough with the attitude for once?” His tone softened. “This isn’t what either of us wants, but it’s what is, and we don’t have to…” He coughed, trying to hide the hitch in his voice. “We’re both dealing with this in our own ways, Julia.” She laughed at that, leaning in. 

 “Yeah, you’re sure dealing with it, Benjamin.” What’s that supposed to mean? “With that little American that’s been popping up on your page?” He groaned, gritting his teeth. Guess not. 

 “Fuck’s sake, Julia. She’s Eric’s sister, and she’s seeing someone. I’m sure that that’s apparent to you by the man she’s posing with in her profile picture?” He gestured toward the building. “You’re allowed to talk about all of this publicly with your friends and family, so why am I not allowed to make a new friend?” He swallowed hard. “Especially one that’s indirectly involved in my life via the roommate I wouldn’t need if you’d been willing to swallow your pride and see a fucking marriage counsellor with me.” I’m done mincing my words. I’m done trying to stay civil since you so obviously won’t. 

 She seemed surprised at his outburst, unable to respond aside from mumbling his name a few times, her eyes flashing in the sunlight. Good. 

 “Let’s get this done with, Julia. Sign these papers and…” He stopped, feeling a lump rise in his throat. “And get you on your way to lunch.” She turned on her heel and walked toward the building, Benjamin a few steps behind. It took only a few minutes to finish adding signatures where they were needed, and Benjamin was surprised to hear that the actual processing of the final paperwork would take weeks if not months, depending on the backlog. The representative had told them that there was nothing more that was needed - and as soon as they received the official decrees in the mail, it would be as if they were never married in the first place; as if the previous 40 months of their lives hadn’t happened. But they did. They … 

 They paused on the sidewalk, staring at each other, and Benjamin didn’t know what to say. I won’t see her again. Not after this. This is the last time I… He stared at her face, the way the lines in her skin had deepend; seemingly over the last few months. Maybe she’s just as upset as I am. “Julia, I…” He thought back to seeing her in the museum for the first time, the way that only a few friendly words of conversation had changed his life. 

 “Goodbye, Benjamin.” She shook her head and turned away from him, but his hand shot out, gripping her elbow and forcing her to turn back. “What.” 

 “Julia, I…” Keep it together. “I don’t regret it. None of it.” He could feel his heart pounding against his ribs. “I lo-”

 “I do.” She spat the words out, tearing her arm from his grasp. “All of it.” She walked away from him, but all Benjamin could think about was that the wavering of her voice had given her away. She’s lying. 

 But he let her go, watching the back of her head as it disappeared into the crowd of people, and then he turned in the opposite direction, opting to walk the ten blocks back to work. I need the air. Surprisingly, he hadn’t thought about Julia while he walked, instead focusing on other things; work deadlines, reminding himself to pay his mobile bill, what he was going to have for dinner that evening, meeting Zac and Bianca for drinks later in the week. Stay busy. Stay preoccupied. 

 He texted you after arriving back at the office, letting you know that he’d signed the last bit of paperwork, and even though you’d taken some time to respond, he appreciated the simple honesty of your message: Onward and upward, Benjamin. You’ll be alright. 

 And he had been - carrying on with his life and trying to move past the time he’d spent with Julia. He wasn’t interested in dating, and though both Zac and Bianca had suggested people that they knew would be willing rebounds, not looking for anything serious, Benjamin declined. Focus on myself. It’s what I need. He’d met Leo just over a week after signing the papers with Julia, and the two had spent a few hours at the bar, the youngest Day apologizing profusely for his initial treatment of Benjamin and promising to keep in touch, now that they were both in London and seeing Benjamin didn’t always mean seeing Julia. “She’s best in small doses, Benjamin. You know that as well as I do.” Leo’s name started popping up in his notifications much more often - while yours began appearing less. 

 He’d asked you why one night, near the end of May, and you’d laughed it off at first, but Benjamin had persisted. “Please tell me. If I did something wrong, I -” He watched as the expression on your face changed, the wood of your headboard visible behind you as you shifted on the mattress. 

 “You didn’t. It’s Noah.” Benjamin’s stomach dropped, but he stayed quiet. “He thinks...he thinks that it’s strange that we talk so much.” Is it? “You’re in another country, Benjamin, but he just…” 

 “I’ve only met you once, and I’m.. was... married.” You rolled your eyes, tongue poking into your cheek. 

 “I know, and that’s what I’ve told him, it’s not like…” You paused. “I told him you were going through a divorce, and you just wanted someone to talk to that had nothing to do with that situation, and I think that made it worse. He said…” You frowned. Said what? “He thinks you’re just trying to keep me close in case I come back out there, so you can…” Benjamin said your name, sitting up straight. 

 “That’s ridiculous. You’re my friend, I’m not…” What a prick. “You’re too smart to let that happen.” He decided to make a joke, wanting to remove the worried expression from your face. “Besides, you know what a fuckup I am, you wouldn’t ever let yourself get involved with someone like me.” You didn’t know everything, but you knew basics, and though Benjamin would have told you what he’d gone through if you’d asked, you never had. Do I want her to?

 “Yeah, you’re downright awful, Benjamin Greene.” You sat up, too, frowning. Sometimes I feel like I am. “You know I don’t mean that, right? I even told him that you were the one that encouraged me to give him a chance, but it didn’t matter.” 

 “I don’t want to come between you two.” Benjamin shifted the phone into both hands, making sure that you could see his whole face. “I’m serious, especially if you’re happy.” He saw you flinch at that, but before he could say anything else, you cut in. 

 “It’s still new, Benjamin. I’ve only been seeing him for like two months, so I don’t know if I’m happy yet, but I do know that I’m glad I didn’t just turn him down without even seeing.” He nodded, but he was slightly thrown off. You’d know if you were happy. You’d know immediately. He thought back to the pictures he’d seen of you at the game, the images where there was a slight distance between you and Noah. She’d know. “Anyway,” you continued. “I’m just trying to -”

 “Don’t explain yourself. Not necessary.” He rolled his eyes before speaking again, putting the topic to rest. “Besides, we know the truth, right?” You agreed. “I like talking to you.” A lot. “But I’m not going to let you risk ruining a relationship for me, so do what you need to do.” 

 A few days later, Eric had come home from work, grinning from ear to ear, and Benjamin had been curious as to why. “I’m going home for a few weeks.” He flopped onto the couch, putting his feet up. “Got approved for leave at work, and I’m leaving the second week of July. I won’t be back ‘til August.” Three weeks by myself? I haven’t had that in...Benjamin shook his head back and forth slowly. 

 “That’s great Eric.” He thought, an idea popping into his head. “Maybe I’ll request some time off then, too. Summer’s usually not too busy - or so I’ve heard - it would be a good time for me to get away, enjoy some time by -”

 “Come home with me.” Eric leaned in. “My sister’s house is plenty big enough for both of us to stay, and I’m sure she’d love to show you around the city.” 

 “I can’t do that, there’s no way…” Benjamin quickly turned the offer down. “I can’t intrude on that, you’re going home to see you fam-” Eric waved him off. 

 “You could meet all of my friends. They’ve all been curious about the people I’ve met while over here.” What? “Just think about it, Benjamin. There’s plenty of room, and flights are cheap as hell right now.” I can’t. He’d told Eric that he’d think about it, already mentally running through the reasons why it was a terrible idea in his head. It’s not … I can’t… I don’t want… 

 But four days later, Benjamin had the same three week period as Eric requested off and approved as vacation time - and round trip airline tickets booked. 

--- 

 He blinked, watching as the lights of Chicago became visible through the low-hanging clouds. “It’s massive.” He spoke quietly, but Eric laughed, agreeing. Benjamin felt the man settle back into the seat next to him. “And you live outside of -”

 “About 40 minutes outside the city, but everyone does.” He sighed. “You’ll see.” And she’s coming to get us in the middle of the night. Thinking about you made Benjamin smile, and he remembered the change in your tone of voice as soon as you’d learned he’d be coming home with Eric, the way you’d immediately started planning things for the three of you to do. We’ll see if anything actually comes of it. Benjamin was familiar with canceled plans, and so until he was actually doing the things you’d suggested, he wouldn’t count on them happening. “I’m going to sleep the whole way back in the car.” Eric was grumbling. “Didn’t sleep for shit on this plane.” 

 By the time the wheels touched down on the tarmac, Benjamin was almost giddy with excitement. First time in the United States,and I get to see a city like this. As they deplaned, Benjamin separated from Eric, promising to meet him at baggage claim after going through customs. The process was always nerve wracking, and though he’d traveled plenty after changing his name, Benjamin felt a nagging sense of worry that he’d be stopped at the border and detained. But he answered the bored sounding woman’s questions, had his passport stamped, and was on his way toward the luggage carousels much faster than he’d anticipated. He saw Eric waiting next to one of them after only a few seconds of searching, and Benjamin readjusted his bag over his shoulder, heading in that direction. 

 He called out Eric’s name just as the conveyor belt began to move, but before he got an answer, he felt two arms wrapping around his waist, your voice excitedly saying his name. Oh, well. Hello. He hugged you back, leaning into it, and when you raised your head to meet his eyes, Benjamin felt his chest get tight. What? “Welcome to the United States, Benjamin Greene.” You ginned up at him, giving him one final squeeze before you let go and stepped back. “I hope your bags come off the plane first, because I don’t want to be here all night.” He laughed with you - as did Eric - and luckily, you got your wish. The three of you headed out the doors and to the parking garage within ten minutes, you and Eric talking excitedly between the two of you, and Benjamin simply looking around. 

 He went to climb in the backseat of your car, but you stopped him, pointing at the front. “What? Eric should -” Eric snorted and shook his head, pointing at himself. 

 “Eric is going to fall asleep in a few minutes, so he needs the whole back seat.” You laughed as your brother said your name. “Benjamin slept for the last few hours, so he’ll be able to stay awake to get you home.” I will? Still trying to process the sudden jolt of emotion that he’d felt when you hugged him, Benjamin took his place next to you, buckling his seatbelt. “Just don’t freak out because everything’s backwards,” Eric mumbled as he stretched out. “Wanna get home in one piece.” 

 “I’ll get you there, you dick.” You replied to your brother with mock anger, turning your head to look at Benjamin. “But seriously, it was super weird for me to be in a car in London, so if you -”

 “I’ll be fine.” Benjamin leaned back in his seat, turning his head toward you. “I’ve been to countries where they drive like you do.” Both of you were quiet for a few minutes as you exited the garage, paying and then navigating back to the freeway. “How far away are we? Eric said…”

 “Well it’ll be faster right now because there’s no traffic,” you told him as you smoothly merged into a new lane. “Maybe 25 minutes. Probably less.” That’s so much time. “How was your flight?” You started out asking him simple questions, and without much prompting, you and Benjamin fell into conversation as if you’d been having them in person for years instead of only for a few months with the aid of technology. It shouldn’t be this easy. Eric had been true to his word, falling asleep in only a few minutes, soft snores coming from the back seat. “He always sleeps on car trips. He has since he was a kid.” You glanced over at him, Benjamin taking the opportunity to watch your movements in the darkened interior of the vehicle. “You can sleep too if you want. I slept for most of the flight back here in December, and then I fell asleep in the car on the way home.” 

 “Nah.” He raised one arm, scratching the side of his head. “Not gonna leave you alone to drive all this way.” Benjamin went silent, waiting. What else is there to say? “You didn’t have to come get us.”

 “Oh, but I did.” You jerked one thumb at your sleeping brother before settling your hand on the gearshift. “I never woulda heard the end of it from him if I didn’t.” True. “It’s… it’s good to see you, Benjamin.” He heard the hesitation in your voice. “I was surprised when Eric … when you said you were coming.” He kept his eyes on the road in front of him, watching as the lights illuminating the road flicked by. I was too. 

 “I haven’t been on holiday in years.” He rubbed one thigh with the palm of his hand, fighting not to reach out and place it over yours. “Seemed like the perfect time.” What is wrong with you, Benjamin? “And…” He turned his head fully toward you, watching as you briefly met his eyes. “You did promise me pizza a while ago.” The sound of your quiet laughter and agreement filled the car, and Benjamin again felt his chest tighten. What is happening? 

---

 Though you did have plenty of room in your house, it turned out that there was only one spare room with an actual bed in it, which Eric had claimed. The man carried his suitcase into the house and immediately went up the stairs, mumbling about how he couldn’t wait to pass out, leaving you and Benjamin standing in the front hall. “Well.” He turned to you, raising an eyebrow. “I’ve never seen him like this before.” You laughed, tossing your keys and bag onto the kitchen counter. 

 “He’s always like this when he travels. Complains the first night, sleeps for about 8 hours straight as soon as possible, and then he’s fine.” You flipped the light switch, illuminating your kitchen in a soft light. It’s cozy in here, looks lived in. He glanced around the room, not wanting to look too nosy, but you said his name, calling his attention back to you. “I went shopping earlier, got some things for you guys - mostly stuff that I know Eric likes, but he also sent me a couple things he said you keep in the apartment for yourself?” You did what? “ You moved through the kitchen, placing your hands on cupboards and drawers, telling him where things were. “Anything in the house is fair game. You see something, go ahead and eat or drink it - or use it.” Crossing your arms, you leaned against the counter. “I mean it. You’re a guest here, but you don’t have to ask before -”

 “You didn’t have to do any of that.” Benjamin stepped forward. “I would have sorted a trip to the grocery out, I -”

 “You flew thousands of miles to see m- to see Chicago. I’m not going to let you go hungry… or thirsty.” You straightened up, beckoning him over to where you stood. “Don’t tell Eric.” Tell him what? You waited until Benjamin was next to you to open a drawer, pointing out a small but familiar tin. “I remembered you said that was your favorite tea, and so I had some shipped in for you.” You looked up at him, and Benjamin was acutely aware of how close he was standing to you and the way your arm felt, brushing up against his. Stop it, Benjamin. Not the time. “Problem is that Eric also loves it, but I didn’t get it for him, I got it for you because I…” Your jaw worked, words trailing off as you stared at him. You what? “I wanted you to feel at home here, even though…” At home? He stayed quiet and after what felt like forever, tore his gaze away from yours to look at the tin, the tip of one finger resting on it. “I hope it’s enough, I didn’t know how much you’d drink, but…”

 “It’s perfect.” He felt a lump in his throat that he quickly swallowed, reaching up with one hand to squeeze your shoulder gently. “Thank you. It’s really… unnecessary.” You laughed, turning toward him, and taking a deep breath. 

 “It’s also kind of an …” You wrinkled your nose, rolling your eyes. “An “I’m sorry you have to sleep on a pull out couch in the rec room for three weeks’ present.” Quickly stepping away from him, you moved back through the kitchen, grabbing the handle of his suitcase as you passed it and dragging it behind you. Why is she… Benjamin shut the drawer, following you, and only a few seconds later - after pointing out the bathroom on the main floor - you were in the room where he’d be staying. “It’s not much, but it’s…” You sat down on the edge of the bed - blankets and pillows already arranged on it -  and looked up at him. “I spend a lot of time in this room, and it’s comfortable. Quiet, you’ll be able to sleep, and it gets dark, the curtains…I thought you’d like it more than a blow up mattress in the second spare bedroom.”

 “It’s great.” He looked around, eyeing the bookshelves and desk, the TV that was mounted above a stand on the wall. “You won’t miss it while I’m here?” 

 “No.” You remained seated, using one hand to stifle a yawn. “No, I can still come in here and grab what I need, and we can always fold the couch up if we want to be in here.” You rubbed at your eyes. “Big TV’s in the other room anyway, this one’s…” He said your name quietly, and you stopped speaking. 

 “Go to sleep. It’s late, and you’ve done a lot of driving.” He inhaled, a thought crossing his mind. “You don’t have  to work tomorrow, do you?” You stood, stretching, and Benjamin fought to keep his expression neutral as he watched the arch of your back, the way your neck looked as you turned your head to the side, eyes closing, another yawn escaping your lips. 

 “Nope.” You opened your eyes, looking back at him. “That’s the other surprise.” Surprise? For who? “I’m off for the next two weeks, so I can spend plenty of time with you ...and Eric.”  She paused. She paused after… You said goodnight after that, explaining where all of the light switches were, where the plugs were for his phone and any other devices he’d brought with him, pointing out the whiteboard where you’d written the wifi information down for him and then paused in the doorway. “Sleep as late as you want, Benjamin. We won’t bother you if the door’s closed.” You watched him for a few seconds, and though he would have sworn you wanted to say something else, you turned and left the room, your quiet footsteps fading as you made it back to the stairs. 

 On autopilot, Benjamin opened his suitcase and pulled out a fresh pair of pajama pants and a clean t shirt along with his toiletries before heading down the hallway and into the bathroom. It didn’t take him long to change and get ready for bed, and after he plugged his phone in, Benjamin wandered around the small room, fingers trailing over the spines of the books on the shelves, eyes moving over all of your knickknacks and pictures. “Stop it.” He spoke out loud to himself after a few minutes, running a hand through his hair and turning back toward the bed. “Whatever you’re thinking, Benjamin, it needs to stop right now. This isn’t a good idea.” 

 But he was unable to sleep for a long time that night, tossing and turning on the mattress as he thought about what you’d said - and had almost said to him. Did I come here to visit her, or did I come here to visit the city? 

 --- 

 True to your word, you spent a lot of time with the two of them over the following few days, taking both him and Eric grocery shopping the next afternoon, cooking dinner when the three of you got home. It was nice to relax, and even though it was warm and humid outside, Benjamin enjoyed it. The three of you sat in your small backyard as you ate, Eric catching you up on his life since January, and Benjamin giving both of you a quick recap of his situation. 

 It felt good to talk about what he’d been through and how he was feeling, and even though he didn’t go into a large amount of detail, he could tell you were listening intently, not just to placate him. It’s like I’ve been friends with these two for years, I can’t believe it’s only been a few months. You went out with Noah on the second day, apologizing profusely for abandoning them, but Eric took Benjamin to visit with a few of his friends, introducing him to some of the bars in Northbrook. This is so much different than home. 

 He enjoyed himself, though he allowed his mind to wander to you a few times, even when Eric’s female friends were talking to him, asking about what he did and whether or not he’d ever been to America before. It’s all the same. He was polite but held back from allowing any of them to pull him away from the group, preferring to drink his beer and keep an eye on the various sports that were being broadcast. He’d contemplated the merits of an American fling; there was no harm in it, nothing holding him back. Benjamin wanted to experience everything that he possibly could while on holiday, and despite the fact that he was still reeling from the end of his marriage, he’d promised himself that he would stay open to any opportunity that presented itself. 

 Though still waiting on the paperwork to come through, for what it was worth, he and Julia were no longer married. His ring was sitting in a box in the flat in London, and when people asked, he told them that he was single, which got him more than a few appraising looks from the other people in the bars. He was a few years older than both you and Eric, as well as many of Eric’s friends, but Benjamin had never found that a focus on age was important to him. Julia had been proof of that, and Allie before her - but was wary of the very young women that seemed most interested in him. That’s not worth it. Not at all. Eric’s personality attracted many people to their tables, and after not having gone out with large groups for such a long time, Benjamin was slightly overwhelmed by the time he and his friend were back in an Uber and headed back to your place. 

 “You’re gonna go home with an American girlfriend, Greene.” Eric wasn’t drunk but he was toeing the line, the happiness of being home with his friends coupled with cheap drinks making it easy. “Any of ‘em give you their number?” Benjamin laughed, leaning back against the seat. 

 “Couple of them asked, but I declined. I don’t know that I want to meet someone in a bar, Eric… it’s not my…” 

 “You’re goin’ home in a couple weeks, Benjamin.” Eric sniffed. “Look, all I’m saying is that you’re here for a while, and not everyone is looking for something long term.” He squeezed Benjamin’s shoulder. “You came here to have fun, right?” I did. He nodded. “Then let yourself have fun. There’s nothing wrong with flirting, nothing wrong with being friendly.” Eric closed his eyes, tilting his head back. “But my sister would probably kill you if you tried to bring someone back to her place, so…” What? Why? Benjamin blinked rapidly. “I tried that once, told the girl all about what my situation was and then tried to sneak her into the bedroom, and… Jesus, Benjamin, I’ve never heard someone yell so loud.” Eric opened his eyes. “So if you do end up meeting someone, I wouldn’t try to -” So it’s just about a stranger in her house, not about me. Got it. 

 “Wouldn’t dream of it, Eric. That’s just disrespectful.” The thought of seeing any sort of disappointment on your face made him anxious, though Benjamin didn’t know why. “I’ll keep that in mind, though.” Change the topic. “So you dated the one girl, Ashley?” Eric began talking, the conversation lasting until they’d been dropped off in your driveway. The first thing Benjamin noticed was that there was a second car parked there, and it wasn’t Eric’s. 

 “Oh, it looks like you get to meet Noah, Benjamin.” Eric scratched the side of his head. “Still a little weird that they’re dating if you ask me, but he always had a thing for her so…we’ll see what happens.” Eric led him to the front door, and Benjamin found himself taking deep, slow breaths. This will be good. It’ll make him see that there’s no reason for him to worry. “Noah! You and my sister better be decent!” Eric unlocked the front door, pushing it open and calling out, even as Benjamin winced. “Where are you?” 

 “Living room.” The man’s reply was deeper than Benjamin had expected, and they walked toward the sound of it. “Watching a movie.” He thought about turning and walking straight into his room, but Benjamin steeled himself, stepping into the darkened room where you and Noah were sitting together on the couch, your legs stretched out across his lap. “What’s up, Eric?” Benjamin’s eyes went immediately to the TV to see what you were watching, but before could figure it out, the screen paused. “And you must be Ben.” Here we go. 

 “And you’re Noah.” Benjamin turned toward the man, watching as he moved your legs, his fingers curling around your bare calves. “I’ve heard a -”

 “He goes by Benjamin, Noah.” Your voice was quiet, and Benjamin’s eyes moved to you briefly, watching as you reached out to put a hand on his arm. “Doesn’t like -” It’s not worth it. Eric flipped the light on, and Noah walked over, reaching out to shake Eric’s hand before pulling him into a quick hug. “Did you guys have fun?” You stood too, stepping closer to where the three men stood, and Benjamin watched as you eyed your brother, one eye narrowed. “Eric did, I can see that.” You turned your gaze to him. “What about you? How was your first American bar?” Would have been better if you w- 

 “Well, we went to a couple.” He laughed, shrugging his shoulder. “Lots of sports, lots of beer, lots of people.” He paused, but before he could speak again, Noah had stepped closer, blocking you from Benjamin’s line of sight. 

 “Good to meet you, Benjamin.” Noah stuck his hand out and Benjamin took it, his eyes moving slightly downward, as the man was a few inches shorter than him. “I’ve heard a lot about you - from both of ‘em.” 

 “Good things, I hope.” He kept his speech clipped, following Noah’s lead and sizing the man up before dropping his hand. Play nice, Benjamin. She likes him, don’t ruin this for her. “It’s good to meet another one of Eric’s friends.” He motioned toward you with his chin, wetting his lips. “And it’s nice to meet you, not just see you in her pictures.” This feels like a standoff. Why does it… there’s no reason. “I’m sure, “ he continued, rolling his neck from side to side. “I’m sure that we’ll see more of each other while we’re here, but I’m still a little jet lagged, so if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to head to bed.” He nodded once at Noah before turning to Eric. “See you tomorrow?” Eric tapped his forehead with one finger in a mock salute and then Benjamin finally let his gaze fall on you, noticing that you were tense. Oh no. “G’night.” 

 “‘Night, Benjamin.” You paused. “Let us know if the TV’s too loud.” He assured you that he would before turning and walking from the room, heading down the short hallway and into his bedroom. He again changed quickly, grabbing a bottle of water from the kitchen after brushing his teeth. Laying down, Benjamin scrolled through his phone aimlessly, ears trained to the door and the faint sounds of the TV. This is ridiculous. It only took twenty minutes for him to climb off of the bed and dig through his bag, pulling out headphones and connecting them to his phone. Won’t be able to hear anything now. 

 But after ten minutes of a podcast, Benjamin realized that he wasn’t paying attention. This is a problem. Despite being tired, it took Benjamin a long time to fall asleep - even after switching to music, as his thoughts ran wild. 

--- 

 He woke up before both you and Eric the following morning, shuffling to the kitchen and starting to cook breakfast without bothering to get dressed. Focused on what he was doing and deep in thought, he didn’t hear you come into the room until you’d taken a seat on the counter behind him. “Smells good, Benjamin.” Shit. He turned to face you, glancing up and watching you smirk, eyes bright. “I’m taller than you for once.” You are. You hadn’t bothered to change either, and though you were wearing a t shirt like you had been the first night he’d met you, your legs were again bare, a pair of shorts replacing the sweats. “Are you cooking for yourself, or…” 

 “I’ll make you breakfast.” I haven’t cooked for anyone else in months. “Hope you like French toast.” You assured him that you did, and he busied himself adding eggs and a little more milk to the bowl, long fingers moving through your spice rack as he found cinnamon and vanilla, adding them to the liquid. “Do you think Eric will -”

 “No.” You sighed. “He’s still out, I looked into the room on my way down here..” Ask the real question. 

 “Did Noah stay? Should I -”

 “He left, Benjamin.” He heard you shifting behind him as you hopped off the counter and moved to the refrigerator, pulling out a carton of juice. “Can you grab me a cup? I don’t want to -” He moved quickly, glancing up and opening the correct cupboard on the first try, handing you a cup without breaking stride. “Thanks.” You poured yourself a drink and then instead of staying where you were, you got back onto the counter, sitting almost directly behind him. “We finished the movie and then he left. Said it felt weird to stay with you guys in the house.” Good. He had the thought before he could stop it, and though he was almost positive you hadn’t seen it, he felt his shoulders stiffen.  “What did you think of him? I know you only -” 

 Benjamin stared down at the bread in the pan, watching as the egg bubbled and browned. He’s … I don’t know. “I can’t really answer that.” Flipping the pieces over, Benjamin adjusted the heat, giving himself a few extra seconds to turn and look at you. “He didn’t say much, and I had a couple drinks, I don’t… it’s not fair to judge based on that.” I don’t like him. The truth was that Noah - being Eric’s friend - was probably a perfectly nice man, and Benjamin didn’t want to assume anything. “I’d have to actually sit down and talk with him before I... “ He cocked his head to the side, watching as you drank from the cup, your eyes never leaving his face. She sleeps on her right side, there’s marks from the pillow on her face. “Why? Why does my opinion matter? I’m -”

 “Because I trust your judgement.” You set the cup down, crossing your legs at the ankle. “Eric and I have known him for years, but you… your opinion is new.” You don’t want my opinion. Part of his revelation the night before was that he was attracted to you, and had been for months. He wouldn’t act on it - especially with you being involved with someone else - but Benjamin knew that he had to be honest with himself. It didn’t start out this way. He reminded himself of that as you waited for his answer. It was just nice to talk to someone new, but it… things changed after I knew Julia and I weren’t going to… “Shit, Benjamin!” You jumped off the counter, pushing past him and interrupting his thoughts. 

 “What?” He quickly turned, silently cursing himself for getting distracted and watched as you shoved the pan off the hot burner and onto the back one, twisting the knob back to ‘off’.

 “You must have bumped the…” You laughed, peering into the pan. “I think I saved it, but that could have been bad.” He looked down, reaching for the spatula and lifting the edge of one of the pieces of bread. It’s a little dark, but not ruined. You nudged him with your elbow, Benjamin sucking in a breath at the contact. “What would you do without me?” He waited a beat and then answered. 

 “Not sure. Probably burn your house down.” Though you moved away from him after he answered, stepping over to get plates out of another cupboard, the sound of your laughter ringing through the kitchen was well worth the loss of proximity.

 --- 

 The rest of the first week passed quickly, and though you didn’t ask him what he thought of Noah again, Benjamin could tell that you wanted an answer. I don’t know what to say. He’d come over again, the four of you eating dinner outside together, and though he tried not to, Benjamin watched the two of you closely, trying to assess the situation. She said she didn’t know if she was happy, but that was months ago, and… she seems alright now. The closer Benjamin watched, the more he saw similarities between his relationship with Julia and yours with Noah. But is it real, or am I just imagining things? 

 Though the man had warmed up slightly after the first meeting, Benjamin noticed that Noah was much more hands on with you when he knew Benjamin was near. This seemed to surprise both you and Eric, but neither of you commented on it, though Benjamin watched you shift away from Noah on your outdoor couch, putting a few inches of space between you on more than one occasion. The man was more often than not the one to initiate anything physical, too. Hugs, kisses - even touching each other all seemed to stem from Noah’s side of things, and although it made him feel smug, Benjamin couldn’t help the smile from appearing on his face when you called him out on it, raising your voice slightly and  telling him to give you some space. “It’s hot as fuck out here, Noah, Jesus.” You stood from the couch, moving back over to where Benjamin and Eric were seated at the table. “Give me like four seconds of…” Everyone had laughed, Eric muttering about you and the heat, but Benjamin had seen the flash of annoyance in Noah’s eyes. 

 The other man talked a great deal, too. It wasn’t just about his interests or current events; even Eric had made a comment one morning after the four of you had spent time together, asking you if Noah made it a point to rehash the past and talk himself up all the time, or if that was new. “Honestly?” You were stretched out on the couch, Eric in the living room recliner and Benjamin at the other end of the sectional, your feet only a few inches from his thigh. “It’s only been recently, Eric.” You sat up, wrapping your arms around your knees, eyes on Benjamin, who was focused on the TV, though it was only to keep up appearances. Don’t say anything. Let them talk this out. “It’s like he’s trying to… prove something.” 

 “Maybe he’s threatened by Benjamin.” Eric swung his head to the side and Benjamin met his gaze, waiting. “You know, good looking Englishman staying in his girlfriend’s house?” He heard you groan, muttering the word ‘girlfriend’ under your breath. “Single, literally sleeping directly below you every night?” I didn’t know that. Benjamin hadn’t ventured up to the top floor of the house, since all that was up there were bedrooms. “He’s gotta be sure you know what a catch he is.” 

 “He’s your friend, asshole. Why don’t you ask him.” Benjamin ducked as one of the couch pillows went sailing by his head, Eric laughing as he caught it. “Whatever it is, it’s strange, and I don’t like it. It’s like he doesn’t trust me.” At that, alarm bells went off in Benjamin’s head. 

 “He’s got no reason not to trust you, or me.” Benjamin reached over, tentatively touching your knee. “Look, I know it’s not the same, but it turned into Julia acting as if she didn’t trust me either - and for no reason. I’d smile at someone in a shop or a restaurant, or someone on the street, and she’d blow up about it. It got to the point where I just… resented her for it.” He realized that he was still touching you and pulled his hand back, sitting up straight. “Do you want me to say anything to him? Tell him he has nothing to worry about, that -” That he’s acting like a peacock for no reason? “That I’ll be gone in two weeks, and then he won’t have anything to worry about?” 

 “No.” You shook your head, stretching out again, this time on your side. “No point. Maybe if I just act like it’s not happening, he’ll drop it.” Benjamin’s heart thudded in his chest. That’s not at all what you should do. It doesn’t work. 

 --- 

 To Benjamin’s surprise, you knocked on his door a few nights later, Noah standing behind you. “Hey. Noah’s got something to ask you.” Though you sounded fine, Benjamin saw the worry in your eyes. What’s going on? He stood from the couch - which he’d folded back up for the day - and walked toward the door. 

 “Want to come out and have a couple drinks with me, Benjamin?” What? “I work tomorrow, so it won’t  be late, but there’s a place we can go that’s pretty close.” That’s the last thing I want to do. 

 “Sure. Just let me…” He glanced down. “Do I need to change?” You laughed, covering your mouth. “What?” 

 “No, believe me, you’ll be one of the best dressed people in this place…” Even Noah chuckled at that. “It’s just a dive bar, Benjamin.” You sighed. “Jeans and a t shirt are fine.”  

--- 

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[thedappleddragon]

hooooo my fucking god I don't know why but recently my anxiety/sence of dread has SKYROCKETED in the last 3 days, I haven't been sleeping great and last night I had an anxiety dream about manning the register at work. idk I guess today was fine but im so fucking overstimulated I guess?? I seriously just dont fuking know. but anyway here’s a summary of some days that I may or may not remember. putting it under the cut

Wednesday I was exited to work, they didn’t need me, I hung out with my friends at their outdoor band concert and had boba and it got super cold out

Thursday I went with my dad to drop off a car, then we had breakfast together at a little restaurant I had never been to before. He told me about his childhood n stuff. Then I went to work and priced things outside and felt good about helping some people buy plants even tho I didn’t know exactly what I was doing and ended up handing them off to Becky anyway. Got off work, came home, hung out waiting to be able to go visit my friend but she took a while so dad and I made the snack he had a lot as a kid which was just handmade chocolate frosting on graham crackers. Eventually my friend got home so I grabbed one of those graham crackers in some Tupperware and some other stuff and headed out. It was a longer drive than I was expecting but eh whatever, I got there no problem with a bunch of dad’s shit in the back of the car. We had awkward hellos in her apartment and I pet her fat ass cat until she suggested we go thrifting and oh my god I had never wanted to go thrifting more in my life than right then. I had one of those moments where I realized oh I’m an adult who can go out and just DO things :D so we walked around and gossiped in goodwil and had a great time until they closed, whereupon steph frantically looked for anything that was open near us while I drove around. We settled on going to a little park nearby, where we climbed on the tube with holes on it and swung on the swings. Then we walked around a dense tree/brush like and into the middle of a field, having our main character moments as we walked to the top of a hill with a cross on it. I took a picture of the sunset and a selfie with both of us before we walked back through the field and drove back to her apartment. I gave her 2 tiny flower jars and she let me borrow her container of earring hardware and a bunch of different tiny things to make into earrings. I had a great time and I’d love to hang out again, maybe when everything isn’t closed lmao. We joked a lot about understanding why people do drugs lmao since there’s nothing else to do! everything’s closed!! Also some joke flirting mixed in for flavor. We have an excuse to hang out again so I can return her earring supplies and she can return my Tupperware lol. I thought my phone was going to die on the way home before I realized there was a charging cord in the car! Nice. Got home, watched my friend stream plasmaphobia for a bit while I finished a birthday gift, and hung out and slept when she quit streaming. 

Friend’s birthday party day!! Also dad moving day!! The first task of the day was to drive with my dad down to the nearest uhaul to pick up a big ol’ truck, and follow him home in the car while he lead the way in the truck. Then we brought his car full of shit to the apartment, got his key and paid his first month, and looked through everything to do inspection. Tbh it’s a pretty nice apartment, I’d love to spend some time there once it’s a bit more furnished. My favorite part is a Harry Potter style hidey hole closet that’s meant for storage, but it’s the perfect size for a secluded hangout spot for me. I’ll totally let him use it for storage if he wants, I just like sitting in there. I joked that I would let Emily hang out in the spare bedroom and I could get the tiny room. But we spent time cleaning and looking around and bringing in boxes before dad sent me to pick up lunch, my sister, and another car load of boxes. I left to do all 3 and came back with Mcallisters, and we all sat on the floor and ate together. A very nice way to break in a new apartment. We brought in boxes and dad sent us on a quest to pick up a car part and drop it off where the car we dropped off the day before. We got there just fine, but getting to the second location was a nightmare because of all my wrong turns and u turns and no left turns, it was awful. I mean we got there eventually but still. By then it was time for me to get home so I could wash my hair and get ready for the party!! I got everything ready, but my sister wouldn’t be home with the car on time, so I just took my mom’s van. I was on time for once!! But in exchange I didn’t realize I had forgotten Cassidy’s gift until I was like 3 minutes away. But also I found driving my moms van very easy compared to last time I tried to drive it, and I think I’m a much more confident driver now :) but I was one of the first to arrive, accidentally twinned with cass, waited for everyone to show up, met her new dog, and then we all packed up the picnic basket and walked to the top of a hill to have our little sandwiches and play cards against humanity. On the walk there we passed by a park where little kids were asking why we were all dressed up if it wasn’t Halloween, so I shouted at them that it was her birthday and handed them the branch I was carrying. We played CAH on the hill and ate little sandwiches and meatballs and drank sparkling juice and had a lovely time, and when we were done, we walked back to her house where there was pizza and we all changed out of our formal wear. My bra was sewed into my dress with 6 stitches, so I grabbed some scissors and flashed my friend’s cat as I cut my bra free of the dress because I forgot to bring an extra. I changed into my ghostbusters shirt and snake onesie and joined everyone outside for pizza and lots and lots of stories and ice cream cake and gossip and quiplash and balloons and gifts and CAH and friends leaving and new friends arriving and more quiplash and then the grass getting cold and wet and going ham on keeping the balloons up and then playing that’s what she said (basically CAH but ✨for women ✨) and by this time there was a dude I didn’t know but he was very nice and cute and already taken. Tbh I didn’t know half the people there, there was a group of 4 cool alt people I had never met and then the 4 band kids I already knew but everyone else seemed to know each other and they all had great energy so I yelled a lot and joked a ton and had an amazing time. As the crowd dwindled and the night got cooler, I helped put things away before I left so I could be a nice guest, said my goodbyes, gathered my things, and drove home past midnight. Ask walked around the house turning off lights like my mom asked, I realized that my dad wouldn’t be sleeping here anymore, and I felt bad that he had to spend the night all alone in his new apartment :( and this is going to be a huge financial burden that idk if he can afford, rent for the apartment is almost as much as my mom pays for the house. Jejdjgjt this is all a mess and I would like to go back to ignoring it all <3 Listened to a lot of two trucks by lemon demon lmao

Hoo boy howdy I did a lot of shit today. Basically as soon as I woke up I got a text from dad about us helping him move with a promise of donut holes and a fruit platter. I walked out to the garage to find our family friends the drakes helping to move boxes, so we all spent several hours loading boxes into our cars and driving back and forth from the house to the apartment, with emily and I avoiding the drakes as much as possible lmao. When we had moved as much as we could in the car, we started loading up the uhaul, shoving as much shit in there as possible so we only had to do one trip there and back. Partially through unloading the truck the drakes stopped cleaning things before we brought them in left and some randos from dad’s work came to help unload and somewhere in the middle of all this our aunt and uncle and her service dog came to visit?? Bruh idk so much stuff happened. Emily asked me to take her home so she could work on school stuff and we put things back into the garage and I went back to the apartment to help with stuff and hang out with my aunt while my dad and uncle returned the truck. We made a list of stuff I might need for college and I wrote it down on a notepad and most of the page space was taken up by ponies tbh. The men brought back burger king and eventually my aunt and uncle left. I helped my dad clean up and set up his wifi and we watched mama Mia. It was my first time seeing the film, and it was really dang fun. Then I made dad drive me ho e since emily was still gone with the silver car. I’ll spend he night over there eventually, but not yet. I’m exited to eventually invite friends over since I’ve never been able to do that before. So now I’m home trying g to go to sleep so I can work tomorrow. I keep thinking about smoking weed and making out with someone in the hidey hole in dad’s apartment............ even tho I have literally no one to do that with afsagssg I’m a CHILD. 

Had dreams last night about being stuck on the infinity train again, except there was a mechanic of switching the world between 2d and 3d and the cast of Bluey had to help bingo go through stages of grief / character moments to help her get off the train or something. I was tossing and turning for a few hours anxiously waking up thinking I was gonna be late and going back to bed so I could sleep/dream more. But then I finally got up, fed my cat, fed myself, helped clean the kitchen a little bit, got ready for work, arrived 15 minutes late on accident, worked register for 6 hours, got more comfortable with register and learned how to do stuff, lots of friendly people, lots of me struggling and my bones hurting, dad brought me food but I couldn’t get to my lunch break until everything was room temperature. The chicken sandwich reheated well but the fries did not. After work dad and I stopped by the house, I got an info card to fill out so I can be called in for jury duty eventually, dad handed me $50 for dinner for us and my sister, we laid on the floor and looked at the noodles and company menu, drove there, picked up our food, had a lovely dinner at dad’s apartment, laid around while he talked to Greg on the phone, went to target to pick up small apartment things like a clock and a trash can and some small groceries but it made me nervous because I hate spending money and watching my dad spend money he may or may not have, and by then we were tired as shit and after dropping his stuff off emily and I drove home and I tried teaching her how to crochet for a school project. Now I’m hanging out wanting to go to bed and thinking about how everybody else my age working at ACE is doing like 60 hours a week with 2 jobs and saving for college and I’m just sitting here with probably 14 hours a week and fuck. I don’t want to spiral into shit, I just want to keep busy as much as possible. Maybe I’ll ask for as many work hours as possible, maybe I’ll ask my friends to hang out, idk. Right now I jut want to be busy so I don’t have to think about anything. I’ll spend as much time as possible helping my dad set up his apartment, I don’t care.

WAAAAA TODAY AT WORK WAS SO STRESSFUL, I LEFT FELLNG SO FRAZZLED IT SUCKED. basically I worked register for 4 hours but they’re all trying to ween me off asking for help to get me more comfortable, and we were surprisingly busy, and my garden boss becky asked me to do 2 extra things and my boss boss kept asking about paperwork that I couldn't fill out because I needed my sister to text me something, and an old man got mad at me over the phone because no-one was out there to fill his propane tank and I had a lady waiting for 10 minutes for someone to help load salt into her car and a middle aged man tried to use sarcasm at me while I was in friendly cashier mode aND IM SORRY I HAVE ADHD I DONT GET IT PLEASE S T O P and I tried answering the phone more and I didnt get the things done that becky asked and I left shit there because I just wanteD OUT. afterwards I went to target to get something, idk im writing this afterwards so I not really remember 

and today, my day off. ugh god I dont remember what I did, I know I picked up a vent for my mom’s bathroom and I just went to go get Taco Bell with my sister and bought her some more about crocheting and she’s making progress :) tomorrow is my friend’s birthday and last year I made her a felt doll of her fursona, so today I started making a crochet doll for her. so far I have the body and libs, but I still need to make the muzzle, tail, ears, attach everything, and hand-sew on all the markings and glue on button eyes. or maybe felt eyes, idk. my stomach hurts and I got upset because I told my mom my cat may be sick because her pee looked suspicious so I crocheted and watched my little pony and now I have a headache and im just trying to listen to music but really I just want to watch 50 arms videos at once but it wasn't loading right and idk man I dont know what’s happening, I may be going into work tomorrow. I think now that I have a job to do 3-4 times a week, I dont feel like I can just chill and wing it anymore, it’s like I have plans forever now. and oh god I still have to sig up for college orientation night or whatever, but my mind hasn'tt been on college for like a month or longer. I think im just going to take some Advil and try to relax with my cat and my music. holy shit dude. I know none’s gonna read this but just. fuck. also I should really post these more frequently rather than let them pile up in my texts. thinking about going back and adding all the dates like I did with my early quarantine diary, but that feels like a lot of work