#fuck. I feel so stupid!!!!!!!! why am I so bad with money why didn’t I get taught about saving in ways that made since to my adhd high

[pilonciillo]

lol didn’t think someone giving money would give me anxiety

[lesbiansanemi]

Currently trying not to vomit over the fact that I essentially just lost almost a thousand dollars brb

[milo-is-rambling]

I feel like an idiot. Who was going to tell me when you’re setting a long term savings goal with a thing to buy at the end as a reward you’re supposed to have the savings goal be price of thing you’re getting plus savings not just save until you get enough money to get the thing you want and then immediately be completely zero dollars broke again

[theautisticwriter]

Love Letters: Yandere! Helluva Boss characters X G/N Reader

Characters- Blitzø, Moxxie, Millie, Loona, Stolas, Asmodeus, Fizzarolli

Show- Helluva Boss

Genre- romantic, yandere

Summary- Mini love letters from your not so secret stalkers admirers!

Warnings- swearing, pet names, yandere themes, mentions of planned kidnapping, stalking, delusional characters, unwanted attention

Word count- 1.5K

Extra notes- I have a Hazbin Hotel version of this uploaded as well!

key: f/l = first letter of your name, y/n = your name, n/n = your nickname

———————————————————

By this point you know who it is y/n, I’m the only person COOL enough to send u romantic as fuck letters like the old people do

Sorry for eating the food u made last night, when i was raiding ur fridge it looked so fucking good (and it was, who knew u could cook :P). i left u a pony as a replacement, u can’t eat it but it’ll make u think of me ;) and that pony cost me a FUCK ton of money, collectors addition and shit. i know, bad fucking ass right??

the stupid shitty loud alarm u installed didn’t work when i came in, ud be much safer with me and loony. that’s the plan anyways babe, u have NO idea the fucking creeps that live down here, they’re all fucking animals and ur…not, a fucking asshole i guess.

i drew you smth (it’s the thing stuck on the back of the envelope with the glitter glu)

^glue

it’s me and u holding hands, like other couples do. we’re better than those corny fuckers tho, hence the crowns on our heads.

ignoring my texts, BLOCKING ME (still upset about this BY THE WAY) and then ignoring my very nice letters is kinda a dick move f/l, but it’s whatevs. everything is almost ready for ur move in. i cleaned up n everything :D

from the only bitch worth ur time,

blitzø

<3 (ignore that, moxxie threw a gun at me and my hand slipped, might fire him)

———————————————————

Hiya sweet cheeks!!!

It’s Mills here, just checking in! Via letter! Ain’t that just the fanciest little thing? Mox said it’s the best way to show thought and care to someone, so here’s all my thoughts and care, just for you!

How’ve you been? Good I hope, I’ve been just peachy thanks for asking! My Ma and Pa are super excited to meet ya one day, they’ve even started planning the wedding! Now I told them to slow their horses down, and not the overwhelm ya, we’ll get to that don’t you worry darlin.

Im just so excited to write this letter for you! Ain’t it so romantic?? I’m practically squealing in delight at the thought of you opening this and swoonin’, that’s what you’re doing, right?

Now i’m writing this on my break, and my boss really needs me back in the game! I got employ of the month! Most amount of kills, with the best and bloodiest results baby!

Until next time sweetheart,

Your Mills! ♡

———————————————————

Hi y/n,

It’s Moxxie here, I was a little nervous to send this letter to you, but I always try to follow my heart, and my heart was telling me to communicate with you in the most romantic way I know how due to our current circumstances of being so far away. It’s hard, for the both of us i’m sure, but we’ll be okay y/n.

As much as I don’t get along with my father, he has been helpful with my preparations for your arrival. It’s a big deal, moving in together. I’m sure your anxious, I am too, but in the best way possible. Love is pure, and can make somebody feel whole, it’s a wonderful feeling. I never want that to be taken away from me, and you are the source of all my love. That’s why we need to be together, being only half a demon isn’t good for the soul.

We can do lots of fun things together as well, like go to the opera, or to musicals, or I can show you my shooting skills. My boss says that I have a pretty good shot, which is the biggest compliment he’s ever given me. And we can do things you like too, marriage is equal of course. Obviously, this will all happen later done the line, you’ll need time to adjust, and I understand that. I understand you.

I’m running out of room on my page, but I will write to you again tomorrow. Please respond? Just once, y/n? It’d be nice, to hold something from you since I can’t hold you yet.

All my love,

Your Moxxie <3

———————————————————

Uh, hi?

Wait, you don’t put ‘uh’ in letters do you? Or put wait whilst you think, fuck shit fuck

Sorry, I’m new to this. Normally I just send a text to people but, your phone is off at the moment I think? Or you lost it? Or you blocked me?

Either way, I’ll send you these stupid letter things until it’s back on. So, uh, what are you up to? Blitz has been up my ass about meeting you, heads up, when I come get you and bring you to our room he’s gonna go all psycho dad mode and integrate you, but he’ll back off after a while. He’s a dick sure, but he does want me to be happy. And your, likeable or whatever, so i’m sure you’ll get along.

Once you get comfortable at home with me, Blitz said you could work with me at I.M.P. You’ll be like the co-secretary or something. You won’t be put in danger, I won’t let that happen, you’ll just get to sit with me. We can watch things together, if you wanted.

I guess i’ll see you soon, how do you end these?

See you,

Love from,

Regards?

Bye y/n,

Loona.

———————————————————

My dearest y/n,

I hope this letter finds you well. I yearn for your presence here, besides me. It’s quite lonely without you, I will admit my dear. It would be oh so wonderful if you could write back. I understand you may be preoccupied with your current activities, but I can’t help myself from desiring a response. I know, it’s selfish of me to expect you to reply to my letters when you’ll be here with me shortly, but I can’t keep my thoughts at bay at the moment.

Your face is a constant in my mind, night and day, asleep and awake, your voice in my mind calms me when I need it most, your smile brightens the bleariest of moments and so on. You can imagine the difficulties I’m facing with no response from you, but that’s alright. If you can’t write back to me dear, I won’t pressure you. Your time is precious, and we will have all the time in hell quite soon. Isn’t that exciting?

I can give you the life you deserve n/n, any luxuries or mundanities you wish for will be handed to you on a silver platter. Or a golden one, if that’s more to your liking? We can properly discuss the specifics once we are together. How thrilling, the though of you and I together at last.

We truly are written in the stars!

Yours until the end of the sky and then some,

Stolas.

———————————————————

Hey there baby,

It’s been a while, huh? I’m sorry if you feel neglected babe, it’s so hard keeping in contact with you when you’re so far away hun. Wouldn’t it be so much better if you were here with me? Sure I’ve got a lot of meetings, being a sin and all, but I’d be at your beck and call n/n, you could even be my new excuse to leave those awful “business” discussions. They barely talk business with me, it’s just complete bullshit babe.

I know the lust ring can be intimidating, we have quite the reputation, but I assure you, love is not a foreign concept to me. Romance is one of my most favourite things! Though that’s a secret, let’s keep that between us, yeah? That side of me is reserved for you n/n.

It’s so boring over here without you, I feel like i’m just lounging around and last time I checked, I was the lust sin, not the sloth sin. We’d have so much fun together babe! Can’t you picture it? Even if you can’t yet, I can wait. Having you near me will be enough, you are enough just as you are.

Sincerely yours,

Asmodeus (Ozzie) xoxo

———————————————————

Heya cutie!

Letters are a lot harder to write than I thought they’d be y’know? I’ve rewritten this like 16 times already, sheesh. It just feels so awkward, I can’t see your reaction to my words which means I can’t fix any mistakes I’ve made :(. I’m sure I haven’t made any though! Right? This letters going really well so far and is definitely wooing you, right, y/n?

Hah, I’m asking questions as if you can reply right away. Silly old me, I don’t know what i’m worrying about! We’re meant to be together. I know it’s super sappy, but we’re like soulmates. Soulmates are bound to be together! That’s why I’m bringing you home soon, I can’t wait! I’ve got sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo many awesome tricks to show you!

And, the best news, I quit my job!! ༘⋆-ˋˏ ༘⋆-ˋˏ This means, we will have a LOT more time with each other, and you don’t have to worry about Mammon being possessive over me, because fuck him! I’m my own clown! Or, well, your clown.

I can’t wait to see you! This is going to be great for us, I pinky promise :P

Love from,

Fizzarolli !!!! ༘⋆!!,-!ˋˏ!!!

———————————————————

[nonbinarylocalcryptid]

Haikaveh incorrect quotes 'cause I'm back on my bs

Alhaitham: This is Kaveh, not my assistant. He's a... Some other word.

Kaveh: I'm his carer.

Alhaitham: Yeah, my carer. He cares so I don't have to.

---

Kaveh, trying to flirt: So, you come around here often?

Alhaitham , confused: I mean, this is my house, so yeah.

---

Kaveh: Being gay is a constant battle between "I wish to sit on a window bench with my lover, our legs tangling as we listen to the birds" and "Hey, let's go throw rocks at fascists" and I think that's very sexy of us.

Alhaitham, without looking up from his book: If the window's open and you time it right, you can do both.

---

Kaveh: Are you ready to commit?

Alhaitham : Like, a crime or a relationship?

---

Alhaitham: Cause your pretty and your smart, and your ignoring me so your obviously my type.

Kaveh, who was distracted: I'm sorry- what were you saying?

Alhaitham: Perfect.

---

Alhaitham : I’ve been dropping them the most insanely obvious hints for like a year now. No response.

Kaveh: Wow. They sound stupid.

Alhaitham : But they’re not. They’re really smart actually. Just dense.

Kaveh: Maybe you need to be more obvious? Like, I don’t know… “Hey! I love you!”

Alhaitham : I guess you’re right. Hey Kaveh, I love you.

Kaveh: See! Just say that!

Alhaitham : Holy fucking shit.

Kaveh: If that flies over their head then, sorry Alhaitham , but they're too dumb for you.

Alhaitham : Kaveh.

---

Alhaitham : Did it hurt when you fell-

Kaveh: From Celestia? Wow, I didn’t think you were such a flirt-

Alhaitham : No, I meant when you fell down the stairs.

Kaveh: ...

Alhaitham : You just laid there for 15 minutes.

---

Kaveh: I can't take this anymore, someone needs to take me out!

Alhaitham : In a dating type of way, or an assassination type of way?

Kaveh: I don't know, surprise me!

---

Alhaitham : We should be partners.

Kaveh: You mean like, partners in crime?

Alhaitham : Yeah... that’s precisely what I meant, because I have another revolution in mind.

Kaveh: I'm in.

Alhaitham: ...

Alhaitham: Kaveh, no.

---

Kaveh: This date is boring!

Alhaitham : This isn't a date. I said I was going to the store.

Kaveh: Then why did you invite me?

Alhaitham : I didnt, I specifically said "don't come with me," then you said, "fuck you Alhaitham I'll do whatever I want!

---

Alhaitham : My future partner must be brave, strong, intelligent, successful and organized.

Kaveh: *steps on a caterpillar and proceeds to drop to their knees and sob while apologizing profusely*

Alhaitham : That one. I want that one.

---

Kaveh: You are the love of my life and I would do anything within reason to make you happy.

Alhaitham : I would be happy if you ate, stayed hydrated and got a reasonable amount of sleep.

Kaveh: I said within reason, Alhaitham . How about I murder that guy?

Alhaitham : So murder is in reason but proper self care isn't?

Kaveh: Well, duh. What kind of question is that?

---

Kaveh: Alhaitham , you love me, right?

Alhaitham : Normally I’d say yes without hesitation, but I feel like this is going somewhere I won’t like.

---

Kaveh: We’re getting married, bitches!

Alhaitham: And we're about to make it everybody else's problem.

---

Alhaitham, talking to Cyno about Kaveh: WHAT THE FUCK I WAS ARGUING WITH HIM AND I SAID “OOH YOU WANNA KISS ME SO BAD” AND GUESS WHAT? HE DID. HE KISSED ME. WHAT THE FUCK WHAT DO I DO.

Cyno: First, it's 3am, fuck you.

Cyno: And second, you could have waited another month.

Alhaitham: What, why for?

Cyno: Because now I owe Tighnari money

---

Alhaitham : Kaveh and I are no longer friends.

Kaveh: ALHAITHAM THAT IS THE WORST WAY TO TELL PEOPLE THAT WE’RE DATING!

Tighnari: Cyno owes me so much money...

---

Alhaitham : I love you.

Kaveh, not paying attention: What was that?

Alhaitham : I said I’m selling you to the zOo-

---

Alhaitham : I want to wake up with you every day for the rest of our lives.

Kaveh: I wake up at 4:30 AM every day to work on my commissions.

Alhaitham : I want to see you at some point every day for the rest of our lives.

---

Kaveh: *Laughs* Babe, you had a crush on me? That’s embarrassing—

Alhaitham : We’re married.

---

Kaveh: Smart is attractive. Educate me on something I don't know!

Alhaitham : The mouth of a jellyfish is also an anus.

Kaveh: Stop.

---

Alhaitham : If I'm extra sarcastic with you it probably means I'm flirting with you or you really annoy me and I can't handle your crap... have fun figuring out which one.

---

Alhaitham : Are we fighting or flirting?

Kaveh: I'm pinning you against a wall with my hand around your neck-

Alhaitham : Your point?

---

Kaveh: Crushes are the worst. Whenever I’m near mine, I start acting stupid.

Alhaitham : You always act stupid.

Alhaitham :

Alhaitham : Wait...

---

Kaveh: Alhaitham and I are no longer dating.

Alhaitham : Kaveh, that’s a horrible way of telling people we’re married.

---

Alhaitham : Are you trying to seduce me?

Kaveh: Why, are you seducible?

Cynari bonus

Tighnari: Okay, I’m going to get the wedding cake.

Cyno: Perfect, while you do that I’ll check on the ring bear.

Tighnari : ...

Tighnari: You mean ring bearER, right?

Cyno: ...

Tighnari : Look me in the eyes and tell me you are not going to bring a dangerous wild animal to our wedding.

[ginawankenobi]

A Comprehensive Guide to All the Characters on Lost, Ranked (by me, obviously) - Part One: From Bad to Neutral

Do I need a disclaimer? Needless to say, these are my opinions and my opinions only. I am not the Supreme Authority on Which Characters are Best (though if you want to appoint me as such, I won't complain about it, lmao). If you feel differently than I do, polite and thoughtful commentary is always welcome, and I would encourage you to make your own list so we can compare! Anyway, I think that’s enough. Let’s get to ranking!

This doesn’t cover EVERY character, but it’s pretty dang close. Also, warning, this is LONG. There are a LOT of characters in this show…I kind of forgot that tiny detail until I started doing this, and by that point I was in too deep, so here we are. Don’t worry, I think I made it entertaining, if you feel inclined to indulge me and read it all.

All the way at the bottom of the list, we begin in

The 10th Circle of Hell (Because the 9th One Just Isn’t Deep Enough).

One of the main themes of the show is duality, which is why I have Jacob & the MIB up a level from here (more on that in a sec), but these people (again, in my opinion) are just irredeemable pieces of garbage. The Worst of the Worst. In no particular order:

Susan Lloyd. I don’t know what happened to make her such a miserable garbage person, but I don’t really care, either. Keeping Michael from Walt and the way she went about everything was fucking evil. Michael may not have been perfect, but he wanted to be in his kid’s life, and he deserved a million times better than what she gave him. Being Walt’s mom is the only good thing she ever did, but even that won’t come close to redeeming her in my eyes. At least karma came around for her in the end. Burn in hell.

Anthony Cooper. Do I even need to explain this? Zero redeeming qualities, zero remorse for anything he ever did, actual sociopath. Burn in hell.

Charles Widmore, you selfish, arrogant, stupid man-child. You can argue that he has duality if you want, oh he loves his daughter, he loves Eloise, blah blah blah. No he doesn’t and I don’t care. He doesn’t know what love means. Selfish little boy who learns nothing and only exists to make others miserable. Burn in hell.

Martin Keamy. Dickhead sociopathic probably former frat bro who gets off on hurting people and being in charge of hurting people. Burn in hell.

Woo-Jung Paik. Learns nothing, cares about no one. I truly despise that he probably wound up helping raise Ji Yeon, and then he probably got his fucking company back as well. I hate it and I hate him. Sun and Jin deserved to escape the island and raise their child themselves. Burn in hell.

Wayne Janssen is self explanatory; an abusive asshole who definitely would have also assaulted Kate given any opportunity. Disgusting individual. Am I upset Kate wasn’t a little smarter about what she did? Perhaps. Am I mad he’s dead? Nah. (So many dads on this show suck SO much, I think the writers had some mega unresolved daddy issues, tbh.) Burn in hell.

Sabrina Carlyle, you HEINOUS hag. Shannon was still a child when she lost her dad, she was a literal teenager trying to figure her shit out, and you basically told her to go fuck herself because you thought YOU deserved to keep ALL her dad’s money on top of the millions you already have, and Shannon deserved to be cut off with NOTHING because she was kind of wishy-washy and didn’t know what she wanted to do for the rest of her life at 18? Look, I understand wanting her to work for stuff and not just be handed everything, but FOR FUCK’S SAKE, how disgusting and cruel can you be? “Oh, your dad didn’t leave a will.” BULLSHIT. (I get kind of defensive over my faves, forgive me.) Burn, you guessed it, in hell.

Slightly above them in Satan’s Armpit, we have:

Yes, I am putting the MIB and Jacob on the same level, and it’s not the lowest one. They’re brothers, cut from the same cloth, blah blah etc. There are REASONS the island needed Hurley, things needed to be different. Like come on Jakey, did you really need to go through such a rigmarole to pick a freakin’ successor? I don’t think so. I mean, in the end it got us the Losties all together and stuff, but at what cost? It’s not like Jacob had any idea how any of that would turn out. Meanwhile, he let Ben do all his Ben shit, and let his smoke monster brother kill all kinds of people for no reason while he just went on being Mr. Mysterious “I-Never-Show-My-Face-Or-Actually-Explain-Stuff-To-People-Even-Though-I’m-Trying-To-Recruit-Them-To-Take-My-Job” …whatever, man. The MIB is here for obvious reasons. Selfish, doesn’t care who he hurts or kills to get what he wants, of course, he’s the obvious evil of this show. Still, there is duality there, and for that I am putting him in this tier. I can empathize with thinking Jacob’s an ass, lmao.

Roger Linus. I certainly empathize with him regarding the loss of his wife, that’s devastating, however, it is not an excuse to abuse your child. It was not Ben’s fault (for once, lol). I’m not saying Ben was right to kill him either, of course, but I certainly understand his reasons and how he was pushed to the decisions he made.

Phil. I loathe and detest this slimy doofus, and it all boils down to one thing: He Hit Juliet. I fully and completely understand James’s rage when he did that. The visceral reaction I have as an observer who knows these characters are fictional and loves Juliet is bad enough, so I can definitely believe the man who’s in love with her would LITERALLY want to kill him for doing that. There are other reasons, of course, he’s annoying and thinks he’s much smarter than he is and all that, but those reasons aren’t as important to me. (You’ll notice treatment of Juliet is quite a deciding factor throughout this list, lmfao.)

Stuart Radzinsky. Just an ass, to be honest. Unpleasant as fuck, doesn’t care who he hurts as long as he gets to do his little sciencey stuff. Oh yeah, and he rats out Suliet. So. BYE!

Brian Porter. Honestly being married to Susan is reason enough to put you here, but then you also went and threw Walt away like a used Kleenex. Fuck you, Brian.

Thomas (Claire’s baby daddy) is an asshat. Seriously. YOU insisted she keep the baby, made all these promises, and then got all pissy when it was time to talk and think about stuff for the baby? Fuck you. Grow up, Peter Pan.

Subcategory: They Who Hath Drinketh the Kool-aid (& Therefore I Cannot Respect Them)

Danny & Colleen Pickett. It’s clear they think they’re a power couple, but in reality they’re just weirdos with anger issues and a superiority complex.

Bea Klugh. Seriously, lady, you sacrificed your life for what? Citation not found.

Mikhail Bakunin. Again, you killed people and sacrificed yourself for…?

Ethan Rom. You know what you did.

Isabel. You’re useless. What even was the point of you, “Sheriff” who knows Chinese for some reason?

Goodwin Stanhope. You win a couple points for being nice to Juliet and trying to leave your wife for her (cause let’s be honest, who wouldn’t), but you still drank it, man.

Harper Stanhope. You’re just kind of a miserable person. Byeeee.

Adam. You beefed with Juliet and called her “Julie.” Ew.

Cindy Chandler. Pawn. “We’re here to watch.” Watch what? Watch Juliet get sentenced to death and executed. Go fuck yourself, Cindy. You’re lucky the execution didn’t actually happen, or you’d be in Hell Circle 10.

Zoe. Pawn.

Seamus. Pawn.

Omar. Pawn.

Ryan Pryce. Pawn.

Aldo. Pawn.

The rest of the Others we see glimpses of, like Burditt, Justin, Luke, Jason, etc.

Next, we have the You’re Not The Worst, But I Dislike You More than I Like You category:

Tom Friendly is in this category because despite myself, I kinda like the guy. He has a sense of humor and a flair for the dramatic, and he’s a far more interesting character than most of the other Others. He’s not higher in the ranks because well, Kool-aid drinker.

Cassidy Phillips. Look, I know James did her wrong, but she just sorta bothers me. I feel a kind of pick-me energy that I can’t fully explain, and I don’t enjoy it. I do think her relationship with Kate is the most interesting thing about her, and I definitely could see that ship sailing once Kate returned from the island.

Sarah Wagner (formerly Shephard) kind of gets a pass because Jack definitely had his issues, but did you NEED to cheat on him? I don’t think so. Also, being mad that he always wants to fix things after you literally married him BECAUSE he fixed a thing is a little nuts, I’m just saying.

Emily Locke did it with one of the worst people in history, but it produced John so at least there’s that, I guess. She’s got some severe mental illness(es), which Cooper undoubtedly exploited, so I can’t place a ton of blame on her. Still, she needs some serious help.

Nikki & Paulo. I’ll lump them together because that’s what the show did. In all honesty, they were just kind of unnecessary, but I don’t hate them.

Ed Mars is an obsessive man, one might say. Truthfully, he’s just trying to do his job. Kate legitimately is a premeditated murderer on the run, what’s he supposed to do? Does he get a little carried away? Yes. Is he wrong? Not really. Still don’t love the guy, but he’s not The Worst.

Kelvin Inman is here for his treatment of Desmond, trying to sneak off and leave him. Sorry, bro. He’s a relatively decent dude otherwise.

Liam Pace. Look, I fully respect that he went and got clean and got his shit together, I do, but selling Charlie’s piano was a DICK move.

Nathan…you just didn’t help yourself at ALL, man. If you gave even a smidgen of kindness to literally anyone, they wouldn’t have been so quick to believe you were an Other.

Mrs. Paik is here because she’s married to Satan’s spawn. She’s not lower on the list because she genuinely cares for Sun and Ji Yeon.

Right in the middle we have the “I Don’t Have Any Reason to Hate You, But I Don’t Really Have Any Reason to Like You Either” group. These are characters we don’t get to know very well, or that I just feel kind of neutral about.

I’ll group up the crash survivors here, so Joanna Miller, Gary Troup, Beth, Donald, the other tailies, and captain Seth Norris. We hardly knew ye. Literally.

Ilana, I’m sorry girl, I don’t really care that much about you. It feels a little like she was just thrown in to have an extra female character (cough, in the absence of Juliet, cough). She’s fine, she’s okay, I just don’t really have any personal attachment to her at all.

Matthew Abaddon and Eloise Hawking represent true neutral alignment to me. They don’t really get involved or invested, they just make sure the pieces are in the proper place.

Diane Janssen is here because she kind of evens out for me. She was stuck in an abusive relationship and couldn’t find the strength to leave, which I empathize with, but it caused her to make some shitty decisions that affected her daughter. I believe she was justified in her anger towards Kate, but wrong to try and blackmail her into seeing Aaron, though she wound up not following through with that and doing the right thing after all. It kind of all balances out, in my opinion, and I neither like nor dislike her, really.

Bonnie and Greta kind of drank the Kool-aid, but Bonnie used her final moments to defy Ben, and I can appreciate that.

Carole and Lindsay Littleton, we don’t get to know them much, but I appreciate how much Claire loves her mom and how Lindsay was protective of them when it came to Christian.

Danielle’s expedition party members. Rest in…well, pieces, if you’re Montand. Sorry.

Pierre and Lara Chang. Though Pierre is a bit of a grump, he’s not a bad dude overall, and Lara was fine as well.

Lennon and Dogen again sort of fall into the duality category where they even out. They drank that sweet Kool-aid, but there’s a little more to them than meets the eye. At the end of the day though, I just don’t have any strong feelings about them.

Richard Malkin did his best to steer Claire in the right direction, for whatever reason. But did it mean anything or not? The world may never know.

Carmen Reyes is a good mom, she made Hurley so she gets points for that, but she’s just middle of the road for me.

Dan Norton is a dude doing his job.

Tricia Tanaka, how did you not see that meteor coming, girl? Just kidding, she deserved better, but again, we don’t know her very well.

People we see mostly in passing: Regina, Nurse Lazenby, Rosie, Olivia, Chrissy, Jill

Part two will be on the way soon! (And it will probably be longer than this part 😅) Stay tuned!

[gravitywonagain]

Mountain Immortal

(a Fresh Powder in the Pine Trees story)

.

Wei Ying is in the zone. 

It’s after lessons have closed on a Tuesday and he’s sitting at a table in the main lodge, editing his and Nie Huaisang’s latest video footage while waiting for Wen Qing to close up the clinic for the day. “Tangerine” is blasting in his headphones and his beat up laptop hasn’t overheated yet. The clips he’s working on are the fails, the attempts, the outtakes. They’re probably his favorites to go through because the pain has passed, but the lesson lives on, and, most of the time, they’re just really funny. Watching Jiang Cheng eat shit off a rail, while knowing that he’s fine, will never get old. 

So he’s totally in the zone. Which is probably why he doesn’t notice Lan Zhan over his shoulder until he feels a hand shaking him gently.

There’s something like panic in Lan Zhan’s voice when Wei Ying removes his headphones.

“When was this?” he asks.

“Ah? Lan Zhan…?”

“Are you hurt?”

“Am I — Lan Zhan, what’s wrong?”

Lan Zhan points to the screen where the Wei Ying of a little over a week ago just landed hard on his ass after a failed rail slide. 

“Ah, no, it’s fine. Wen Qing said all the bleeding was internal. That’s where the blood is supposed to be!”

Alarm lights in Lan Zhan's eyes, his eyebrows twitch toward his hairline.

“It’s a reference!" Wei Ying says, backpedaling hard and fast. "A bad reference. And a joke! Importantly, it’s a joke. I’m fine. I promise. No bleeding, internally or externally. Just a giant bruise on my ass. And on my pride."

Lan Zhan's expression settles out again, and Wei Ying takes a breath. He scoots his laptop over as Lan Zhan takes a seat, pressing play on the clip so that Lan Zhan can see the Wei Ying on the screen roll on the ground for a minute before hopping back up to his feet and trying the rail slide again.

"Nie Huaisang edits all of the good stuff," Wei Ying says. "I get to play with all the stuff he cuts out."

Lan Zhan hums as he watches Wei Ying fall off the rail a second time, though much less spectacularly than the first. "I didn't know you filmed snowboarding movies."

"Movies?" Wei Ying laughs. "You make me sound like Uncle Xiao. No, no. Just stupid little shit like this. Clips and compilations for YouTube. Huaisang just didn't want to go to film school."

“Uncle Xiao?” Of course he would pick up on that. Wei Ying can see him putting it together. He’s so smart. He can’t not. “Xiao Xingchen?”

Wei Ying really does try not to flaunt his connection to living legend Xiao Xingchen, backcountry snowboarder and filmmaker of many a ski resort employees' dreams. But Lan Zhan is Lan Zhan. His family does own this entire mountain. He won't likely be prone to the same starstruck jealousy as many of Uncle Song's rental techs.

“Uh, yeah. He was a close friend of my mom’s.”

Lan Zhan nods.

“He, uh. He used to film me when I was just learning. And then when I was getting better. He didn’t,” Wei Ying has to clear his throat against the memories before he continues, “he didn’t get into making movies for the money. He’s just always liked filming. Uncle Song fucking hates it. I still don’t know how Uncle Xiao convinced him to be in Distant Snow and Cold Frost.”

“Mr. Song does not seem the type to enjoy being filmed.”

“‘Mr. Song.’ So formal, Lan Zhan!”

“He is my coworker. And a department head.” 

“Sure, but he’s also a fucking knuckle-dragger. Just call him Song Lan. For me.”

Lan Zhan hesitates, and Wei Ying can see the impropriety of it eating away at him. But, after a moment, he acquiesces with a quiet, “Mn.”

“Have you seen any of Xiao Xingchen’s films?”

“I have. We screened Mountain Immortal here after it won an award at Banff.”

“Ah! I can’t watch that one without crying, like a lot.”

“It was a beautiful tribute.”

It was a beautiful tribute. Cangse Sanren, as she’s known in the world of winter sports, and Wei Changze had died in an avalanche in Colorado while Xiao Xingchen had been filming in Alaska. When he heard about it, Uncle Xiao had taken his movie about the history of splitboarding and made it into a memorial to his sister and her husband. Of course, it still flowed really well because he just made it a family thing. Grandma Baoshan was still a main feature as the inventor of the splitboard. She passed her backcountry spirit onto her kids and on down. 

There was so much home-video footage from Xiao Xingchen’s teenage fascination with cameras, so much footage of Wei Ying’s mom. Less of Wei Changze, but there was enough. 

Wei Ying pauses, considering how he wants to take this conversation. He could just pass this off as a passing interest, or shift to talking about outdoor sports in the film industry. But he’s been pushing Lan Zhan out of his comfort zone a lot. Possibly too much. He’s earned this, if he wants it. So Wei Ying takes a deep breath and says, “It’s my family.”

“Your… You’re Cangse Sanren’s son?”

“I am!” He smiles as bright and wide as he used to for her. It almost doesn't hurt to do it for Lan Zhan.

“So when you said ‘uncle,’ you meant…”

“Yeah! Mama was never formally adopted by Grandma Baoshan, but yeah. I meant jiujiu.”

This is the moment, usually, when someone will lavish him with sympathy, condolences or whatever. Wei Ying hates it, but he understands. Death is hard, but more than that it's weird. It lingers, haunting every relationship for the rest of forever.

But Lan Zhan doesn't say all the uncertain placating things that Wei Ying is used to. His face draws in, not in discomfort but in… understanding.

He hums, a small sad noise and then says, “My mom died when I was young, too.”

Wei Ying could almost fall over with relief. Which is. Not the reaction he should have to that. “Do you remember her?” he asks.

“A little. I was six.”

“Oh, I was fourteen.”

“Tell me about her?”

Wei Ying gasps a little, despite himself. “Really?”

“You don’t hav—”

“No, I’d like to. I just." Nobody has ever asked him that before. "Yeah! Okay.” 

Wei Ying takes a deep breath. He doesn’t really know where to start, so he just talks. He tells Lan Zhan stories from his childhood. Stories about snow and laughter and family. 

He talks about her smile and the way she always seemed to have snow in her braid. She used to spray him with powder every time he beat her down the hill. It was funny and very Mama, but it also taught him to go slower, to take his time on the slope. She refused to let anybody else teach him how to ride. She taught him to carve, first on groomers and then in powder. She used to put hand warmers in her boots because her toes were always cold. And she was just constantly losing pairs of goggles. 

He tells Lan Zhan the story of how Cangse Sanren and Wei Changze met. How they shared a chair at Park City and Wei Changze, a skier, had waited for Cangse to strap in. How he had followed her, kept up with her, impressed her. How she’d invited him for a drink at the lodge but, when they figured out that neither of them could afford ski resort alcohol, they’d crawled into the back of Wei Changze’s beat up station wagon and smoked weed in the parking lot. 

He tells him about skiing between his baba’s legs when he was too young to snowboard. About Wei Changze’s impressive will power and consistency, like how he would just quit drinking coffee occasionally when he felt he was too addicted. And his lifelong commitment to skis, despite his wife’s family’s many attempts to convert him. It won him great esteem from one of his mothers-in-law and… something else from the other. 

“Grandma Baoshan always called him an ‘unrepentant skier’ and I was never sure if she meant that as a compliment or an insult.”

He tells him about his first backcountry trip when he was 9. About the absurdly small splitboard Baoshan Sanren had built for him in her garage. And then about Baoshan Sanren’s garage. The things she made, the prototypes she’d scrapped. How Song Lan was, and still is, the only one she allowed to fully access the garage, not even her wife is allowed in there unsupervised. And the way she’d chase Xiao Xingchen away any time he’d tried to point a camera in her general direction. 

He talks about Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan and going on full family outings with all seven of them packing into two cars and driving to the slopes in the early morning dark. How little Wei Ying would just cruise up the skin tracks once they’d been broken in. How he’d built his muscles surrounded by family and fresh powder. How he’d learned early to earn his turns. 

“I’ll take you up a mountain the fun way sometime,” he offers, and then laughs, delighted by Lan Zhan’s eager acceptance. 

He tells stories of Song Lan teaching him how to do all of the practical maintenance on skis and snowboards and splitboards because he basically did all of it for the whole family. Wei Changze would help and Wei Ying would get the skins all tangled and stuck to each other. How difficult it can be to get that adhesive out of hair. Or hair out of the adhesive. 

“There’s actually a picture in Mountain Immortal,” he says, “of me sitting in a pile of probably ten pairs of skins that Baba and Uncle Song had piled on me because I was causing so much trouble.”

He tells Lan Zhan that his favorite memory, the one he always goes back to, is of just the three of them. They’re at a resort, actually. Which one doesn’t matter, Wei Ying wouldn’t be able to recall the name anyway. All he sees is Wei Changze with his ski poles stuck out behind him for his wife and son to hold onto as he skates the three of them over the flats. 

“I was probably eleven at the time? Mama was squatting low, keeping her board flat, but she kept reaching over and poking at my knees trying to make me fall over.”

He’s crying, he realizes. Laughing and crying. He wonders how long that’s been going on as he wipes the tears from his cheeks. 

It’s that motion that finally pulls him back into the present. The lodge is empty, there’s a red and white paper tray half-full of fries between him and Lan Zhan that he doesn’t remember either of them getting up to buy, but he can taste the salt on his tongue so he knows he’s eaten some. His laptop is dead, but its battery was low anyway. Still, it must have been at least an hour since Lan Zhan found him here. 

“Sorry,” Wei Ying says, “that was probably a lot more than you were prepared for.”

Lan Zhan’s eyes are rimmed red and it’s possible he was crying at some point, too. He smiles. It’s small but real in a way few smiles are. It makes Wei Ying’s heart jump into his throat. 

“Thank you for telling me about your family, Wei Ying,” says Lan Zhan with an honesty that matches his smile. 

Wei Ying sniffs and rubs his hands against his snow pants. He shakes his head to shake away the ghosts. "You should really come out to one of our sessions some time," he says, gesturing toward the laptop. "You would look great on film."

Lan Zhan doesn't roll his eyes. Instead he looks pointedly toward the black screen where Wei Ying was just editing videos of him falling on his ass.

Another laugh jolts its way out of Wei Ying's lungs. This one isn't sad at all. And Lan Zhan is smiling again.

[monsterswithimagines]

Sailor Song (Nathan's pov) - part 7

Nathan Young x Female!Reader

Summary: After Nathan is buried alive, things aren't all rainbows and unicorns for him. One night, after a particularly bad nightmare in which he's back in his coffin all over again, he calls his ex–you. A/n: I swear to fuck, I really wanted the show to focus on the friendship between the gang, more than just 'I just want to be your friend' 'alright' and 'so we're not gonna shag then?'. I mean, Nathan, Alisha and Curtis don't really seem to be huge friends (though I wanna focus on that more, too, at some point) but damnit LET NATHAN HAVE FRIENDS. Anyway. If anyone's wondering why I'm putting so much focus on the Asbo 5 in a romance story, that's why. Kinda hilarious that this fic was originally gonna be 10 parts per pov. I don't think that's gonna work.

Masterlist

~

Nathan did not remember how he had ended up at your flat. Or anything after the others had left the pub–except maybe you standing at the mouth of an alley with your arms crossed.

He groaned, rubbing his head as he sat up. His head was pounding. Where had he even gotten the money for more drinks? Probably someone had bought them for him. He hoped he hadn’t done anything too stupid to get them. He was known for that.

You must have anticipated Nathan’s hangover. There was a strip of Anadin Extra on the coffee table, as well as a half-full glass of water. His jacket was folded next to it.

Nathan swallowed two of the pills at the same time, drank the water, then went to the kitchen to fill up the glass again. The clock on the microwave told him it was ten am. That bothered him, for some reason, but he couldn’t think why just now.

Then… shit, community service!

Nathan rushed into the living room and dug through the pockets of his jacket for his phone. For a moment he was worried he’d lost it, but then he found it in an inside pocket where he would never otherwise put it. It was at ten percent.

He had several missed calls from both Kelly and Barry, as well as a bunch of texts, all of which came down to: where are you?

He called Barry, because he seemed the least likely to yell at him.

“Nathan?” the little creep answered.

“Hi, yes, it’s me.”

“Where are you?”

Nathan glanced around the living room.

“...Somewhere.”

“We’ve been worried.”

“Why? I’m immortal,” Nathan said grandly.

“You could still be slowly bleeding out in a ditch.”

“Yes, well, I’m not. I’m on my way now. You can all stop getting your panties in a twist. Twat.”

Nathan hung up.

He patted the pockets of his jeans. He still had his wallet, and his cigarettes, thank God. No clue where his keys were, but those were just to the community centre, and he didn’t really give a shit if that place got broken into.

Someone cleared their throat.

Nathan whirled around.

You were standing in the doorway to what he guessed was your bedroom. Your hair was a mess and you wore a white bathrobe. You had your arms crossed as you leaned in the doorway.

“Going somewhere?” you asked.

“Got my community service,” Nathan said weakly.

He would have been out of here just as fast if he didn’t have an excuse, but he felt it was probably better not to say that.

“Right,” you said.

“Thank you, for, uh…” Nathan gestured towards the couch.

You shrugged.

You were giving him a very, very strange look.

“What? Have I got something on my face?” Nathan asked, feeling his face as he spoke.

“No. Just… you said some stuff last night… You don’t remember?”

“Not really.” Not at all. Not even a little.

“Oh.”

Nathan did not like that look on your face.

He booked it.

-

“So then ya just left?” Kelly asked as they walked around the estate, haphazardly picking up litter.

“Pretty much,” Nathan said, making a face. “It was really very awkward.”

“Aren’cha at least a little bit curious what all you said?”

 “No.”

Kelly rolled her eyes.

“With how you been thinkin’, you probably declared your undying love, or somefin.”

“I don’t love her,” Nathan insisted.

Barry had been keeping suspiciously quiet the whole time, but now he made a sort of laughing noise–a small huff of air out of his nose while he smiled.

Who knew where Curtis and Alisha were.

“You got something to say, creep?” Nathan snapped. He realised right away that he sounded a bit meaner than he had been to Barry in a while, and poked him in the shoulder to make up for it. “Stop gangin’ up on me.”

“It’s just funny,” Barry said after a moment. “The thought of you in love.”

“That’s because it doesn’t happen,” Nathan insisted.

Now it was Kelly’s turn to snort. “Yeah, right.”

“Love’s far too complicated, man,” Nathan said, stabbing roughly at some used tissues. “I prefer the leavin’ part of love ‘em and leave ‘em.”

“If you say so.”

“Well, I do.”

Nathan…

Nathan stopped when he heard the voice. They were in a neighbourhood, surrounded by ugly concrete buildings. So basically, they could have been anywhere in Wertham. That being said, being surrounded by buildings meant the voice echoed.

It sounded somehow less human than it had at the park.

“Mate,” Kelly said (or maybe she said ‘Nate’, who knew with her accent?), turning back to look at Nathan. “What?”

“Do you guys hear that?”

Naaaathaaaan…

“I don’t hear anything,” Barry said, after listening for a moment.

“I swear, there’s somebody calling my name,” Nathan said, looking around.

“Is this like that bollocks with that baby?” Kelly asked. “Because if you steal another one, I’m not savin’ ya.”

“Shush.”

But the voice was gone. All Nathan heard now was the mild breeze echoing between houses.

I must be going insane.

“Yeah, you must be,” Kelly agreed.

“Maybe someone with powers is messing with you,” Barry offered, frowning. “Making you hear something that isn’t there.”

“That does seem like the preferable option, doesn’t it?” Nathan asked, catching up with his friends. “Instead of just ‘Nathan is hearing shit that isn’t there’?”

“Maybe you were hearing a ghost.”

“Nah, man,” Nathan said. “Ghosts don’t sound all creepy an’ shit. They just sort of show up.” He paused. “Besides, I haven’t seen any dead people since my brother and that chick he was shaggin’. I bet it was because of them drugs. Usually I’m immortal, but when I took E, I saw ghosts.”

“Maybe,” Barry said thoughtfully.

“We’re just gonna brush off you hearin’ voices, then?” Kelly asked, hip-checking Nathan as they began walking again.

“Yes, I think that’s the best course of action,” Nathan said. “Or we can find a nice, cosy little asylum for me. I prefer something near a beach.”

“Don’t be a wanker,” Kelly told him, slapping the back of his head.

“Hey!”

Barry laughed.

[missmarveledsblog]

Bet on it ( Bradley Bradshaw x reader) part 5

summary : the daunting reality of everything that has happened leaves bradley taking it out on jake and finally finding out why their feud began in the first time and which leave Bradley knowing he really needs to see her and make it all right but can he ?

warning : angsty bitch up in here , not proof read , grammatical errors ( soz)

previous part

 She wanted to wake up , this had to be a sick nightmare that she wanted  no needed to wake up from . some from of terror of the fact she was leaving it had to be . Yet the pain that shattered her heart into a million pieces only proved of how real it was . the best time of her life tainted in the childish action of two men she loved dearly.  The constant reminders she was to face of her own stupidity to  think it was real to think he couldn’t hurt her again .. how fucking wrong she was  . her phone was on constant vibrate as everyone tried to ring and text , they all had to witness the worst part of her life . she sat on the sofa reaching for something,anything to wipe her eyes and  of course it had to one of his stupid  Hawaiian shirts , when she went to the kitchen  more stupid reminders of them both . it wasn’t only bradley’s betrayal , jakes stung just as bad. He knew it all , knew their history   and still done this all for the sake of  the bronco ,  the fact he done it all for his car was something she couldn’t help but laugh at. 

“ kid open the door or i’ll use my spare key”  her dad called  as she ran to the door looking up at the man before breaking down in his arms . 

“ i was so stupid  how could i be so stupid dad” she cried. 

“ you are not stupid and as pissed as i am at those two there’s gotta be more to this “ he sighed leading her into the room shutting the door.  

“ i know you wanna see best in him cause of uncle nick but dad he made me think  .. he had me so fooled i honestly thought he love me and it was all some bet to keep his stupid fucking bronco  , in front of all my friends and family , my bosses. Thank god i don’t have to work my last week  how can i show my face outside that door “ she cried harder.  “ i’m leaving tonight i can  get air bnb til my place is ready but i can’t stay here not “ she stood wiping her eyes.  

“ come on sleep on it please for me “he followed after. 

“ dad i need to get out of here  i can’t face anyone right now i will let you know i’m ok but i am going whether you like it not i can’t stay here , i’ll send money and details for storage unit for my stuff please don’t try stop me” she rushed around . 

“ least let me drive you to the airport” he sighed. 

“ ok but i’m not changing my mind i can stay here with reminder of it all “ she nodded. 

He barely slept and the hour or two he did he was hoping he was waking from a shitty dream . that he didn’t lose the best thing in his life . that he didn’t break the heart of the woman he loved because of something so stupid . fuck he’d sell the bronco piece by piece if it meant he could make it right .   he wished he could go back  deny the bet  and go for her like he should of like he always deep down known .  how she was his forever and now his future look bland it look nothing  in comparison . all the dreams  he had of what his future would look like  it didn’t matter who was going to be there once it meant she was by his side .  in the snap of his fingers it was gone , she was gone knowing he shouldn’t of listened to jake , he should crawled on his hands and knee and begged her to forgive him . to know he really loves her , his feelings for her was why he wanted the stupid bet to end , that they never part of it . everytime he closed his eyes the heartbroken expression , her words of venom in his ear  and he was the cause of it , he couldn’t just get over his ego and stupid feud from when they were barely adult and just admitted he was in love with her long before he even thought of it . he stood looking at her door trying to think of the words that were to come out his mouth , sorry didn’t seen to even come close to worthy and yet it was all he had . the first knock went unanswered ,  then he banged louder til he was thumping the wood in desperation . it was only til her neighbor came out  still half asleep. 

“ she left last night with her dad and suitcase now stop  the banging before i call the cops “  the woman snapped . 

“ what you mean left?”  he felt the bile rise in throat , that dizzy feeling catching up with him big time . 

“ new york , thought she was leaving next week but poor girl was upset when she was saying goodbye , such a lovely girl and great neighbor “ she sighed as bradley waved her off. He couldn’t hear whatever she was saying not that he care that sick feeling that sunk to the bottom of his stomach and the realization that it was too late .  she was gone before he could make it right.

Walking into the base it was loud enough tension was high nat wouldn’t even look at any of them , she was kicking herself for not finding it out sooner putting stop to it . all guilty in the humiliation in their friend when they meant well none of them could raise their head high , none of them could look Mav in the eyes when he walked in .  hangman looked just as rough  like he hadn’t slept nor had he really done much of anything , his hair wasn’t styled to perfection , dark circles in under his eye. He felt shit . he looked shit and he wished he never thought of it , the huge gamble was not worth this risk , he wish he thought of anything but this. He wanted his friends to be happy , he knew they both had feelings for each other but he knew they were too stubborn , her guard was too hight up and his stupid ego  was in the way . 

“ sir .. we are so sorry it wasn’t.. It wasn’t our intention to make y/n sad” fanboy spoke up the guilt hitting him hard knowing if he kept it quiet everything would of been ok , everyone would of been happy. 

“ what were you thinking .. a bet really your grown adults acting like stupid kids and because of that stupidity my daughter is heartbroken and other side of the united states because she cant bare to face the humiliation” he didn’t yell , he wanted to but he couldn’t in his heart he couldn’t scream and yell . 

“ she left?” nat gasped . 

“ she left last night staying in a hotel til she can move into her apartment “ he  nodded knowing the female pilot was just in the dark as he was . 

“ so much for tomorrow bagman “ rooster spat . 

“ i didn’t know she was gonna leave bradshaw” he snapped back .

“ your stupid idea in first place “ bradley stood pushing the chair back . 

“ it was to get your stupid ass to  make a move” he stood before anyone could react  the two charged at each other both angry but yet the feelings being brought out in different ways .. angry at themselves and taking it out on each  other as each hit landed til they were finally pulled apart. 

“ YOU BOTH NEED TO GROW THE FUCK UP , YOU WANNA BLAME SOMEONE LOOK IN THE MIRROR “ Mav yelled as they both panted .

“ i never meant to hurt her , i thought it could be different then what happened in the past sir “ 

“ she told you ?” pete asked shock she wouldn’t even tell him what the whole thing was . 

“ that she froze me out” bradley scoffed. 

“ it wasn’t for nothing she heard you with your buddies , how she was a clingy  tag along that barely gave you space to breathe  , dopey little girl with her head in the cloud and stick up her ass and why did you say all that ? because you buddy asked why you didn’t sleep with her “ jake scoffed. 

“ i said it because they wanted to i didn’t mean it , she was only gone 18 and i brought her to stupid party and they wanted to sleep with her but i said it they wouldn’t  that’s why she stop … god  why did she even give me a chance “ he groaned. 

“ who even are you because i know this isn’t the son of nick and carole “ pete shook his head. 

 “ i pretty sure my dad would of punched me  for it  hell i think my mom would of too ,why haven’t you ? ” he sighed holding his head in his hands. 

“ rest of you go … you two i want to get to the bottom of this because i know as pissed as i am  , there is more to this  “ he stood as the others left . “ know you two start fighting , throwing fist i will take disciplinary action  “ he stood .

“ i was stupid , i came up with the bet hoping it would give his brain a shake and he would grow a pair finally tell her how he really felt it was never to make her the butt of a joke or  to be humiliated “jake started  , his voice even crack and he as well as the other two thought he was going to crying. 

“ i was dumb then and now i didn’t us my brain and it was real everything i said to you that night and those feeling it was real it was all real and now i fucked it up because  i’m a stupid asshole who doesn’t use his head or grow up , she was always there for me even when i didn’t deserve it  phoenix let it slip even when we were fighting she would chip in on presents add it to someone else’s so that i didn’t know it was and then when we were together i was so happy like actually happy for first time in such a long time .. back then when she stopped talking to me i hated her for it i’m not going to lie i did because it felt like i was losing yet another person in my life” he gritted his tears spilling down his cheeks angry at himself present and past. “ if  i just done the right thing instead of what i thought was the right thing i wouldn’t have lost the woman of my dream , i wouldn’t have lost my best friend and i get if your pissed and angry  and i get if you hate me for this Mav i hate me , i hate that i lost her , i hate that i hurt her so many time and now i can’t even make it right” he sobbed hell it brought a tear to jake eyes. 

“You’re not an  idiot .. you do idiotic things yes but  i know you and i know this isn’t you bradley and nothing is too late but you do need to find a way to make it right because you hurt her badly this time  but i of all people know  it never too late” he sighed patting his shoulder . 

“ i have leave right i can put in for leave and go to new york “ he nodded . 

“ i do to , you aint only one who need make this right “ jake spoke up .

“ put in the request and i’ll help you out once it cleared but don’t make me regret helping you bradley” Mav nodded. 

A month in the big apple  she wasn’t crying as much and first week she started was probably the worst first week  ever had .  though the pain of it all didn’t magically disappear well least she wasn’t an emotional wreck 24/7  although crying session in the shower and watching tv was still a regular.  The work element she decided to detach her personal life knowing she was there to learn , gain experience instead of wallowing about the shit show her life really was. It took so many month of her life and it wasn’t taking more, more of the fact she was constantly drained and tired over the emotional turmoil of it all .  she’d made a couple of could she call them friend and marcus was on the same programme the only one who knew what she was going through . why she constantly felt so stressed , why her smiles were masks instead genuine reactions . being the rock she needed , phoenix and beth too even though they were still back in san diego they made sure to keep letting her know they missed her and checking on her .  nat did tell her how both jake and bradley were rough at first she felt some what glad  well not glad but it was nice to know she wasn’t the only one hurting and she wanted to get in contact when she  came out on top of her group she wanted to text jake tell him like she used to and yet she couldn’t she was still hurt , he still hurt her as much as bradley did .  in all that anger , distrust and sadness she missed them both she miss her best friend she missed her life before she found out about the stupid bet. Those thought needed to stop , she needed to stop feeling the pity  finally agreed to go out with marcus celebrate they finally made it as she got ready .  it was getting closer to going , she wanted to text and cancel but couldn’t he’d been  missing out on going out with new friends to wipe her tears and supply her with ice cream as she cried to sappy movies. 

A few hours of sleep and help from people he truly didn’t deserve their help  he and jake were standing in some place  that he was hoping was the right one .  the second the approval was given the two were on a flight to new york , marcus promised he would get her there only because beth told him to .     they both stood thinking of what they could say mentally preparing themselves for it all , more of a chance she would ignore them both and they were expecting it but they weren’t going to give up so easily .  a part of him was excited to see her and bigger part was scared , he was scared because he knew when he did see her how she would look at him differently it wouldn’t be the looks of pure love the two shared.  Watching the door like it was the only thing on the earth he was put on it for waiting to see that face and yet when he did , he seen her smiling  again but it wasn’t real it was a show  put on it was only til they locked eyes when the mask slipped off and the true emotion on her face four weeks and five days and she still look as hurt as she did that night . 

“ you have got to be fucking kidding me “ 

part 6

taglist : @peachmartini @paisleebubbles @kawaiiskeletondragonbanana @djs8891 @shanimallina87 @emosrkool

[dreamwatch]

For the wrapped meme: 11 & Steddie, if you please!

Thank you for the prompt, I really needed this to get my brain working.

You know until your ask I didn't realise I hadn't even specified a fandom! Stranger Things, people! (in case anyone else wants to send me a prompt)

---

#11 - Refugee by Tom Petty And The Heartbreakers

Steve is vibrating with anger.

They’re sitting in Eddie’s van in the parking lot outside Bradley’s Big Buy. Eddie’s looking in the rear view mirror wiping someone else’s spit off the side of his face with some grubby napkin he found in the glove box. He’s acting like he’s wiping some girls lipstick off his cheek. 

“Stop staring at me.”

Steve turns away, looks out the passenger window to see the prick from the store packing his groceries. The temptation to run over there and kick the shit out of him is so intense he ends up staring at his hands instead. He’s not sure why he suddenly feels like the bad guy in all of this.

“I feel like a drive, how about you, Steve?” Eddie’s voice is clipped, his tone all pinched and stiff. Steve just nods, there’s no point saying anything right now, he’ll get shot down and it will start a fight and he’s not in the fucking mood.

They drive for close to an hour, Steve taking surreptitious glances at Eddie from time to time. Over the hour he watches as Eddie’s shoulders relax, the tension in his arms loosens. Watches the transformation from an angry alley cat back to Eddie.

It’s not fair, but he learned a while ago nothing in Hawkins is fair. But what annoys him, what really incenses him, is how Eddie reacts to these bastards. He doesn’t fight back. He just grins, throws up those stupid horns, sticks his tongue out. He pokes the bear, and he looks like he’s enjoying it too, unless you really know him. Then you see the flash of hurt in his eyes, the way he stiffens slightly. The way he hunkers down for hours afterwards while he works through whatever the fuck is going on in his head. Which Steve can’t help might be faster and easier if Eddie would just talk to him. Or anyone. Just fucking talk.

The van slows and pulls off the road, stopping at the edge of a cornfield. Eddie shuts off the engine, killing the music. Steve sneaks a glance, watches as Eddie tips his head back against the headrest and closes his eyes. The engine tick tick ticks, the birds caw. An occasional car whooshes by. Eddie and Steve just sit.

A warm breeze flows through the windows, and Eddie pushes stray hairs off his face. He caught colour on his cheeks over the summer, the scar on his left one no longer looking so stark against his skin. Eddie took great delight in showing that off to the townsfolk of Hawkins. Sometimes Steve just wants to scream at him.

“I know you don’t get it,” Eddie says on a sigh, finally cutting through the last of the tension in the van.

“Yeah, I don’t. Sorry.”

“I don’t need you fighting my battles. I can do that myself.”

Steve shakes his head, “Didn’t see you putting up much of a fight.”

“That’s your answer to everything, isn’t it?”

Eddie pats himself down, and Steve knows he’s looking for cigarettes. He also knows he doesn’t have any. He only has gas in the van because Steve gives him the money for it. No one will give him a job, Wayne gets less hours at the plant, and they all know why that is. So he gives Eddie gas money because he drives Steve around even though Steve has a perfectly nice car, and they both know what this really is. Just another thing they don’t talk about.

Steve lights a cigarette and takes a deep drag before passing it to Eddie. 

“I don’t know how you put up with it, that’s all.”

“And what else am I supposed to do, exactly?” Eddie takes a drag, and ashes the cigarette out the window. Doesn’t hand it back to Steve. He wasn’t expecting him to. “You can’t fight everyone, Steve.” And he draws his name out, in that way that makes Steve want to slap him. Like he’s being mocked. Like this is school, and he’s the mean boy. 

“Then— Then leave.” Don’t leave. 

Eddie rounds on him, eyes blazing. “Why should I fucking leave?”

“You always wanted to go, you said—”

“On my terms. My terms! Not because some hick cunt wants me gone. This is my fucking home, Wayne’s home. My family and friends are here. I nearly died for this place, Steve! I have more fucking right to be here than them.” He runs out of steam, stabs the cigarette into the ashtray likes its ablaze. “I’ll go when I’m good and ready.”

The sun creeps lower in the sky, and the light hits Eddie’s hair and it’s like a halo. He gets these moments, when he’s still, when he’s sleeping, when he thinks he’s not being watched, and his face relaxes and he looks like a boy. Just a kid. It’s not fair. 

Eddie scrubs his hands down his face, sucks in a lungful of sticky summer air, and then turns the key in the ignition. Music roars, and Steve jumps, it gets him every time. Eddie huffs, a ghost of a laugh, and reaches over to punch him lightly on the thigh. 

“Come on, let’s go home.”

The van turns in the road, heads back towards Hawkins, and despite the afternoon of worry and anger, all Steve feels right now is relief.

[oceanbug]

when worlds collide

smau non!idol ningning x reader

13.5 bathroom meetings.

•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•

Turning off her phone, Jimin sighed in defeat. She knows everyone’s not avoiding her on purpose, but it kind of felt that way. She wasn’t going to have a nice dinner outside, but she didn’t want to lock herself inside on a nice Wednesday night. So she decided on the next best thing.

Let’s trespass on school grounds after hours.

Normal people wouldn’t think to do this, but Jimin was different. She wanted to do nothing more than rebel against her goodie-two-shoes image, so she committed crimes on the low. Not actual illegal ones, just minor crimes like ‘trespassing’ at a school she pays to live in.

Let’s see where to break into first! I could walk into the chemistry lab and mix all of the labels. Yeah, that’s evil enough; let’s do it.

Like I said, they weren’t illegal crimes. Just inconveniences that Jimin thought were ‘evil.’ She didn’t have much experience being a bad kid, so this is as good as she’s going to get.

Before Jimin could step foot into the lab, the sound of crying could be heard in the science department bathrooms. Who could be here at this hour? She knocked softly so as not to startle the clearly distressed individual.

“Get the fuck away; can’t you see it’s occupied?" That voice was distinct. There was none like it. Ningning was in the bathroom, and she was crying?

“….Ning? It’s Jimin, are you okay?”

“I said get AWAY.” Jimin didn’t flinch; she was used to this. She went to high school with Ning, so she wasn’t afraid of her. At the moment, she was just concerned as to why someone as tough as Ningning could be crying alone in a bathroom. Jimin sat down outside the bathroom, back against the metal steel door.

“Hey, If you want to talk, we can. I know you probably don’t want to tell a random stranger about your issues; that’s fine with me. But you know I’m good with a secret. You can talk to me.”

Jimin felt her back slightly fall as the door creaked open.

“I’m not telling you because we’re friends, but I am telling you because I have no one else I can trust.” Ningning’s words sounded rude as usual, but her sorrowful tone from crying was heard. It made Jimin’s heart ping; no one deserved to feel how Ningning felt at this moment.

“The stupid gossip site posted. Your little friend and my ex-bitch are besties now. What the fuck, man. What did I do to deserve this? I’m the one who got cheated on. So why does everyone feel bad for Giselle?” She began tearing up even more. Jimin had been bewildered by the fact that Y/N was hanging out with Giselle. Why had she lied to her? They had mentioned it was a friend Jimin didn’t know, but that clearly wasn’t the case. Nonetheless, she’d focus on that later. All Jimin’s attention is on Ningning now.

“No way is Ning Yi Zhuo letting two freaks get the better of her.”

Sorry Y/n.

“The same Ning Yi Zhuo who got our finals canceled by rigging the lottery so that our principal won? The same Ningning who passes every school year with a 4.0 GPA yet doesn’t show up to any class? There's no way you’re going to let two people hurt you like this. That stupid school blog stinks anyway; they don’t even get the full story of things! I’m sure Y/N meant no harm in what she did. Trust me, I know her. She’d never hurt you on purpose.”

The room was silent, all that could be heard were the crickets, and the cool wind breeze. Jimin meant every word. She trusted Y/n. Sure she lied about who she was meeting up with, but it was surely for a good reason. That's something you're certain of. Ningning looked away as if she were deep in thought. She quickly dried away her tears and stood up.

“Whatever, I can do way better than those two freaks. I can literally buy their houses and still have money left over to splurge. Later loser.” There she was, ‘Rich Bitch’ Ningning. Before she fully stepped foot out the door, she turned back.

“Thanks, Jimin.” Then she walked away.

And so there goes Jimin’s Wednesday night. Maybe she’ll continue her ‘evil’ activities another day. For now, she’ll get some food and head home. Still, she can’t shake the feeling that the conversation will be important later. She’d probably never cross paths with Ningning again, so why does she feel like this?

•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•

masterlist ~ next

(Synopsis) Y/N had never been the type to take life for granted. You grew up with the mindset that if you wanted something, you had to work for it; So getting paired up with the university’s “Rich Bitch” Ning Yi Zhuo for your midterm was the last thing you wanted. Are you willing to step into the world of fame for an A+?

taglist (open): @azraism ; @kimsgayness ; @sewiouslyz ; @winieter ; @llluvbluy ; @i06kkura ; @everydayiloveyves ; @edamboon

[winstonhenderson]

𝟏𝟗𝟔𝟖.

𝓝𝓸𝓽 𝓐 𝓛𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓵𝓮 𝓚𝓲𝓭 𝓐𝓷𝔂𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮

𝙎𝘼𝘾𝙍𝙄𝙁𝘼𝙈𝙀 𝙎𝙀𝙍𝙄𝙀𝙎

George’s Notes

We were in India. Another place. Far from home. Enjoying meditation. Having fun. 

This was my passion! In 1966. I brought the sitar and Julia loved it! Or John. Whatever. She used it in her “Norwegian Wood”. I always liked to talk about Ravi to them whenever I got the chance and all of them knew how much I liked Indian culture. So this getaway to our “ideological savior” seemed like a great way to relax ourselves. And for me, a great way to attract the writing pair’s attention! They always put Ringo and me down, even when they don’t necessarily mean it.

But the most important thing to me is that we all cleared our heads. Ritch left first. I felt sad, he and I hang out a lot, so the fact of him leaving first hit hard. Also, I understood why he did, he had bad allergies and the food here was upsetting for him. 

The two that were left gave me a hard time, each in their own way. They talked to each other from time to time. Haven’t seen them talk normally for a while. Paul would be prissy and make stupid comments, while John was unbearlably fucking around with the idea of the religion. Paul was a bit too conservative for this so he left next. He tried out all the things this place had to offer, and I must say, maybe he explored this place the best. Linda was fine too… She is a nice gal. Like Cynthia, who I had the biggest crush on for a very long time. She fit in fine, and only seemed to care about two things; relaxing and John. John decided to stay however long I wanted to stay. Of course, we are quite similar, she was starry eyed too. Pattie and I had a lot of fun together, just hanging about and talking about the most basic stuff. It became a lot quieter since Paul left. John made some jokes but her-or his-or goddamn it, I’ve known this for six years and still can’t get it right! John’s attention was elsewhere. 

What I didn’t expect was that Cynthia and Pattie became close and started to hang out on their own leaving us two behind. This was the chance to sell to John my idea for songs. Although, John looked more spaced out than usual. Offhanded comments here and there. Something about the sun, or nature, or the feel of the wind. John got poetic fast. And now, John and I are sitting here, on the beach. “Geo, do you really believe this small guru?”, oh… This is serious. It’s not really John when it’s serious.

“Yes, why?”

“Hum.”, she took a biscuit.

“Julia, why do you say that?”

“I think he is doing some fraudulent activities. Paul found something while he was scavenging.”

“And you still trust Paul?”, oh no, she is mad. Or no… Dissapointed.

She chuckled.

“Geo, he is still my songwriting partner. And here you are.”

She handed me the paper. It had a complete description of some customers' orders and the amount they charge. There was the order and then a tipping mechanism where they took 50% from people.

“I felt like Maharishi was a good little guru. Always setting up people. Making you bite.”, what the fuck are you saying Lennon!

“Me? We all bit it!”

“You bit it first.”

“Lord, Jules… Could be fake for all I know, or could be I dunno repurposed.”

“George. I’m not exaggerating aaaaand I’m not letting you spend any more money on this SCUM.”

“I know how to handle money! Sometimes better than you! Always better than John!”

“You don’t involve John in this! This is about you!”, Julia.

“Jules, I am not that fifteen year old anymore! I’m twenty five! I can make the right decisions on my own!”

Julia was distraught. But I told her the truth!

“Look, I know you are responsible, sometimes even more responsible than I am, but you are naive! You think everything can be resolved-”

“OF COURSE IT CAN! Julia, you could’ve made it known at any moment that you are a woman and it wouldn’t matter! We are on the toppermost of the poppermost Jules! You wanted to be there, remember!”, think woman, think!

Julia got angry, but not Julia angry but John angry, which was much scarier.

“We are there because people presume we are all men! And you never know what problems would arise should I do that! What if I put myself in danger? No, you in danger! I still don’t know why we’re on top. I know people dislike some of our music and want to see us fail! Half of the time I think our music is pure shite that won’t last a fucking day after if we hadn’t had such good marketing!”

“You must really hate yourself, Julia, if this trip couldn’t get you out of your mindset.”

“Georgie. Was it ever a secret?”, Jules laughed.

That woman drives me insane. I… This whole trip, the reason John was spaced out was because Julia was monitoring what I do! Lord, John or Jules always kept tabs on me! And I wonder how sometimes I could be lucky that Brian didn’t find out something or that Paul didn’t shout at me. Julia had my back! 

“Jules! You should let me fight for myself! Goddamn it! Fuck you! I… Can’t stand you sometimes. I can’t stand that you…”

Push me and want me to write more, sing more, play more? Then as John put me down and snuff out my confidence.

“I cannot let you fuck yourself up because of some unimprotant man and his cult! I can’t let anyone scream at you because of something stupid that happened. George, I do that for Ritch also, though Ritch doesn’t get into sticky situations that much.”

“Stop helping me in the worst possible way. I have to face the consequences! I have to see it for myself.”

“But what if you never figure it out?”, Julia hugged me, “What if you continue believing in your delusion and it costs you everything?”

“JULIA, that is the thing I’M TRYING TO TELL YOU!”, I hugged her.

“What?”

“You have to stop! Paul gave up on you. He married Linda, because he couldn’t marry you! You destroy yourself with drugs. You drift away more often.”

She was speechless.

“You hurt Cynthia, Ritch and I as John because of the stress and misuse of drugs! You are not yourself anymore.”

“You can’t say that you don’t use drugs too…”

“I don’t use them as much as you do. Our mommy’s death broke us. It broke you two the most.”

“Shut up, George.”

And here is John.

“John is becoming his own thing and I don’t think you can even see when you are the one or the-”

“JOHN ISN’T A REAL PERSON!”, he covered his mouth.

“He isn’t a person, he is just a device, an idea!”, he flailed his hands around.

“I can do everything and I don’t need your stupid advice. I came here to tell you and try to get you out of this cult, not to be lectured by some pussy.”

I sighed.

“George, I am going. Enjoy the view. I cannot anymore. I don’t even see properly without me glasses, so what did I even see in this place? Don’t think I didn’t get hopeful when I got here! I did. I was hopeful I would relax. I didn’t. I was scared half of the time someone would fuck up and with any interaction with Paul and other half of the time I was questioning this place. I am restless, and suppose I will be, for the rest of my life.”

“John, I told you what I meant. I am direct. Unlike you, just like Julia. I cannot watch you suffer any longer! I can’t watch people around me suffer! Just think about it! Just think!”

“I feel. I have to feel it’s right.”, John looked at me with teary eyes. Never seen Julia cry as John.

“Alright… I didn’t want to make you cry… Now it looks weird because you are still in that John getup of yours.”

Julia laughed.

“Getup, haha! Geo, you are getting more creative by the day.”

Julia lit up.

“Okay, if you want me to relax so much, I have an idea, juuuust look away for a… Couple of minutes.”

“Oh no, I have encouraged Julia Victoria Lennon to do something.”

She smiled and I turned away. I heard the sound of clothes moving around. Then bandages being taken down. Maybe even a hair tie being let down.

“Turn around!”

Oh, now it’s just Julia.

“Ta-da! Now I can relax.”, she spread herself on the sand.

“Wait- Don’t relax too much! I want to tell you about my songs!”

“Alright, Geo, what do you have in mind?”

I told her every minute detail about the songs I wrote. She listened to me! Yay! And she even approved some! And gave me some tips and tricks to work on my songs. It was really such a nice session of writing. I missed when she would give me some song attention instead of treating me like a little kid who can barely write and play.

“That’s great, I’m so proud of you!”, Julia scratched my head, “Baby George!”

“Augh, I thought you said you’ll stop calling me that!”

“Well, John said that, I didn’t.”

“You can’t get away with this!”

She calmed down.

“But seriously, continue working on this, it will sound better and better. Maybe I could get Paul to approve it-”

“No, I’ll show it to him just like I’ve shown you! Don’t do anything Lennon, I beg of ya!”

“I won’t then.”, she wistfully smiled.

You could sense the feeling of satisfaction coming from her.

“Maybe you aren’t so fragile and small like you were Georgie. But enough about that, I’m going for a swim!”

“Not without me!”

We jumped into the ocean and played around. Julia loved to swim, she was fast on foot, and she was a fast swimmer. She swam almost half a kilometer away in just 12 minutes. How does she do that with our clunky clothes? I followed her but I didn't like the chance of getting an ache and I went back to the shore. I was happy for her. This is the first time she looked naturally relaxed during this entire trip! She swam back after 20 minutes.

“I wonder how you can swim so far and not get scared? Or any aches?”

“I got aches. I just ignore them and paddle my way back, simple as that!”

“You are so weird sometimes!”, I chuckled, “And capable!”

“Um, that’s my job as your leader, dummy!”, she knocked my head.

I laughed.

“I wish I could relax like this everyday!”

“Well, that isn’t happening. But, I have a mystery to debunk, and that is Maharishi’s history. I’ll have fun.”

“You are still on about what Paul said? How about you stop thinking about him and just think about hm…”

“No, I’m doing more as a fuck you to cultists then because of Paul. I’m angry at Paul. I’m miserable because of him.”

“Glad you understand basic human emotions.”

She giggled.

“Okay, Harrison. Tell ya if I find more evidence, but knowing these kinds of trickster buggers, you won't be waiting much!”

The sun was setting and we were gazing at the view. Until I heard some movement in the trees.

“Where did we end up? Are you sure both of them are here! Oh, look, there is George!”, Pattie! Darling!

“Come here! Missed you so much!”, I hugged her.

“Where’s John?”, Cynthia wondered. 

Oh my Lord, where is Julia?

“Um, I dunno, he was just here with me.”

I searched with my eyes and found Julia hiding behind a rock all panic ridden.

“Why are there bandages on the floor?”, Pattie asked.

Cynthia realized what had happened.

“Just some trash we encountered, how awfully dirty the tourists here must be!”

“I’ll then find a rubbish bin suitable for them.”, Cynthia, thank you for taking care of John. I’m glad Julia chose to be with you and pretend than anyone else.

Julia looked at me. Her look was basically telling me: “What do we do? Should I go out or not? No, tell them to leave! Give Cynthia a sign to make them leave. I don’t want anyone else finding out.”

I scoffed.

“Where did you scoff at.”, Pattie said, “At that rock!”

Julia came out with her hands crossed.

Cyn was shocked but relieved to see her. She was waiting for what Julia would do.

“OH, it’s John, see Cyn we found him! Though I must say you look more frail than usual.”

“What can I say? This sun eats ya!”

We chuckled.

“And I had to see what Cyn’s relief looked like. Never expected such a big reaction from ya.”

“How can I not react that way when I love you so much!”, she ran towards Julia and hugged her as hard as possible, “I was already thinking I had to call the search party to search all over!”

“Don’t worry Cyn, I can handle a little labyrinth!”

“I don’t think so!”

“Alriiight.”, Julia sighed, smiling.

“Glad we are all here then! Let’s all go back together to our houses!”, Pattie was happy.

“Nah, I’d like to stay here a bit longer with Cyn.”, Julia disappointed me yet again.

“Oh- Oh, well have fun!”, Pattie waved them goodbye and I took her hand.

I sent another look to Julia. It meant “When are you going to stop lying!”

I figured Cyn helped Julia get bandaged up, because it was going to be dinner time soon. The rest of the day went normally. And the rest of the vacation was great, though it was cut short because of John’s investigation! He found out that Maharishi is a fraud, and really a fraud! So I dug deeper, and found the same, with more evidence! We united the evidence and presented it to the man, who said we were exaggerating and not understanding what it said!

“Look, you can’t deny your eyes and there are two of us claiming this against you! You lied to me!”, I began, “You lied to me that money wasn’t that important!”

“Well, I didn’t say that it was not necessary, you got to make a living!”

“By scamming others, not such a little good guru afterall! With this kind of behavior, I would’ve thought you would also pay flying carpet lessons!”

Maharishi chuckled.

“You know, this proves you’ll be absolutely the same as before if you leave. You, Lennon, have something to hide. Always look like that. You think you are clever, but you are not. You are empty, surrounded by enlightening remarks. But what is their purpose, you don’t know. For you, George Harrison, you will still be that insecure and childish egoist I met. Direct and naive; curious too. No wonder you dragged the whole group of you to-”

John was angry.

“You are not going to talk that way about us UNLESS I say what I think about you first! You are a snide, privacy breaking, yellow bellied, ass licking, greedy son of a bitch who likes to think he is so high and mighty! So it is just right to take away people’s hard earned cash like that!”

“The Beatles are basically the same thing!”

“We make good music.”, John replied.

“And we make good points? Explain the difference, Lennon, explain it! Oh, and haven’t seen this much emotion from you during your whole stay, I’m glad-”

“Because I didn’t get mad!”

“I’ll answer instead. We follow the regulations. We are not some other outside organization. We aren’t money grubbing. Maybe our producers are. And I know we will fix that when we find some inconsistencies.”, I jumped in to help.

“Maybe we are materialistic, but we aren’t putting other people in DEBT you whore! I checked multiple times.”, John continued.

“To check isn’t in character for John Lennon.”, Maharishi chuckled.

“It is if I think so. I don’t con people.”, John answered feeling confused on why Maharishi would say that. Then the guru scammer smiled.

“I’ll figure you out, Lennon. You have something to hide.”

John chuckled, “To hide is to survive? Isn’t that the principle of not getting caught in your scam?”

Maharishi got serious.

“You are feeling guilty of your scamming and blaming others, meanwhile I don’t have anything to declare.”, John stated with confidence.

“I know a deviant when I see them.”

“Oh, and now it’s John’s fault I have turned against you, isn’t it!”, I figured it out, “Trying to blame him for my complaint!”

Maharishi looked at me with some kind of disgust.

“Of course. Of course, we are leaving now. This instant.”, I got mad.

“Don’t go mad Georgie, this mister right here can use it against ya. You have to be relaxed and fulfilled, like he said. That’s how you get happiness, right?”, John joked.

I chuckled and calmed down.

“Yer right.”

“Well, mister, we loved the island and all, but you're a fraud and we have to go!”, John waved him goodbye and I followed. Maharishi pulled me back.

“Mr. Harrison, don’t listen to him!”, he told me, “He is a deviant, a snake, presenting himself as he isn’t!”

“And why would I not? He is one the lads! And you are the snake here.”

“No, no, that’s not a “lad” as you say, not a traditional lad, that’s a hijra.”

“A what now?”

“A… neither male nor female.”

I looked at him blankly. So he figured out the twin tale?

“You cannot trust someone who doesn’t know what they are. And this person, this “John Lennon” as they call itself, is absolutely not trustworthy. Always joking around, always monitoring you, always making inappropriate and underhanded comments. You want freedom and expression right?”

Lord, this slimy motherfucker.

“John is still one of my best friends and pals. You can’t make me stay here any longer. You just made me more angry and volatile. And you accuse John of such heinous acts with no evidence to support it.”

I began walking away towards John, who was packing with Cynthia and Pattie.

“Oh, I understand now. You know of Lennon’s decadency even before I even tell you! Both of you are flawed, go then! I don’t need a place for rude and deviant people like you!”

“Oh, where’s the “we welcome everyone to our family!” or “we are happy to accept any LOST soul”.”, John argued.

Maharishi smiled and walked up to John. He said something to him that made him shiver. Still John behaved cocky and said,

“Oh, I promise I’ll do that. For the chance to piss you off, I’ll continue doing that for as long as I want to!”

We boarded the boat. I looked at John perplexed. 

“What happened for us to go earlier?”, Pattie wondered.

“John, what did you do?”, Cyn asked.

“Absolutely nothing that deserved that kind of send off! Accusing me of deviancy just because George and I handed in some damning evidence that Maharishi scams people!”

“That’s… Fun.”, Cynthia sighed, “Well, at least we’re in one piece and haven’t been held up by that con artist in any other way.”

“You are so smart, Cyn.”, John chuckled, “Yer right as ever.”

John proceeded to kiss her. Before that he gave her a small, not really noticeable sign. He always warned Cyn before kissing her. But I never really noticed Cyn tensing up before the act.

I kissed Pattie as well and whispered in her ear:

“I’m glad this hellish discussion is over and you have absolutely nothing to do with it!”

“I’m glad you’re okay, George.”

Pattie looked at Cynthia and John, “Let’s go inside, it’s getting a bit chilly in here.”

“Wait for us two inside then, I have to talk to John about this shit in private.”

The wives giggled.

“Alright then, George, we’ll be inside. If you need any advice or a shoulder to cry on, you know where to find us!”

“Pattie, sometimes you could be so funny!”, my sweet Pattie.

“And not always? The insolence of this young man! We are going inside, pronto!”, Cynthia pulled Pattie with her.

John rolled his eyes while chuckling.

“No wonder Cyn is my best female friend.”

“Well, a wife is a best friend too.”, I joked.

There was a small pause. We looked at the ocean and the waves splashing in the sun. 

“John, what did that son of a bitch tell you?”

“There is something called a hijra in Indian or Southeastern culture. It is a person in drag, a person who identifies as the opposite gender… He told me that he figured out I was in drag. He told me I can’t keep it together and remain normal if I ever was. He told me I corrupted you… He told me I will drag the entire band into ruin. And even if I told everyone the truth that I would make everything the Beatles did worthless and meaningless.”

“What a freak!”, I couldn’t believe it. Maharishi was today very awful towards us, especially towards John. Was he always a bit more awful to women? Now that I think about it, he didn’t talk that much with our wives. He focused on us four. What a scammer.

“I know that, but it does send shivers down my spine, y’know.”

“I’m just happy we had fun and we’re going home, Jules.”, ahh, fuck this man.

“Yeah, I’m happy too. Let’s go inside, Geo.”

“Yeah. Thanks for looking out for me… But please don’t do it as much anymore, Julia.”

“I’ll try not to. And… Perhaps, baby George is right about some things.”

I think some things are going to change in the Beatles and I hope for the better. The most important thing is that I have proven that I’m not a child anymore - I’m an adult who speaks his mind and deserves to be listened to. Perhaps, they will put more songs on the next album… Can’t wait to work with Ritch again…

Rest of Sacrifame

[berrypass-de-murdler]

3 - 10 The Case Before the Stabbin' Judge

The last two cowboy freaks!!

They

Yeah

So many of them

DON'T READ THE EPISODES WITHOUT READING THE BOOKS!!

Logico makes it to the courthouse, and Mint jumps behind. Boss Ivory and Judge Pine are waiting.

LOGICO: I need to wake up. THEM: ? LOGICO: I mean… I need to figure out the TRUE MEANING behind all of this. B. IVORY: I’ve always liked yer spirit, Twilight. But we got another murder first. Why not you take a lil’ rest. LOGICO: No, solving murder is MY JOB!! PINE: Yeah IVORY. Way to look INNOCENT in front of the JUDGE! MINT: I feel I have come at a bad time. I’ll come back tomorrow, 11:05. LOGICO: You stay right there you son of a bitch.

He examines the weapons - a gavel, a flag, a cow? The human victim seems to be crushed - what could it possibly be?

MINT: You can tell that I’m fine. I’m the one with the flag. My murder’s complete, it’d just be a drag.

He dances around with the flag in a needless ballet sequence.

PINE: And I am stayin’ the FUCK away from that cow.

The cow moves. It makes Pine very uncomfortable. Can you guess why?

Having the answer handed to him, Logico continues to stall.

LOGICO: How are you here, Pine? PINE: Tf you mean how am I here? I’ve only been the stabbin’ judge ‘round here for CENTURIES! LOGICO: Judge Pine, it’s me. Deductive Logico. PINE: Get away from me, horse, I done had enough of yer kind.

Logico snorts. 

LOGICO: I know it was you, Bossman Ivory, it’s obvious! B. IVORY: My, oh my. Our great Twilight II, at it again.

Logico waits, and nothing happens. Why can’t he escape this dream?? Of course Pine doesn’t recognize him, she’s just a figment of his imagination at the moment. They all are…

He lies down, devastated.

B. IVORY: Is there somethin’ else you wanted, Detective? LOGICO: You could… no, I don’t even care about that. I want to get out of here! I’m not supposed to be here…  PINE: Don’t say that, sugar puddin’. We’d all be dead without ya here. LOGICO: You’re not real…

He tries to control them with his mind, but can’t, no matter how hard he tries! They just stare at him. Of course, Ghost Cowboy Irratino comes from thin air with perfect timing.

IRRATINO: You’re almost there, Logico. Just a lil’ bit further.  LOGICO: How many more fucking dream murders could there be… IRRATINO: It’s not about the murders, hon. You gotta figure out what the conspiracy is. LOGICO: What… what conspiracy?? IRRATINO: There’s always a conspiracy. 

Logico blinks and he’s gone. But he’s right - there’s always some conspiracy. And if there is none, then he’s going to make one!

LOGICO: Bossman Ivory is behind everything! PINE: Uh… B. IVORY: Now you can’t just go makin’ a statement like that. I just killed one annoying juror.  LOGICO: You murder people for your own good! B. IVORY: Now hold on there. I am WAY too rich to need to do somethin’ stupid like that. LOGICO: You get your money from MURDER. PINE: How would that even work?

Logico tries to formulate a storyline with what he has.

LOGICO: You took me to the ghost town… and there was an abandoned mine, which WASN’T abandoned, fucking Mint or whoever made a… a union, and they went on strike… and then you got Sky to tell Graphite to kill Mint because she had a thing for her… and then Mint… killed her? Instead? To save his own life!”

Logico cringes as he realizes a plot hole in his own logic. Why would Ivory take him to the ghost town if he didn’t want his plan exposed? But instead…

MINT: The actual heck? The man is correct! B. IVORY: OHHH! Well, fuck that! [snort] It dudn’t matter anyway. All three of us are killers, even the judge. So there’s no WAY I’m goin’ to jail. PINE: NOW WAIT ONE MINUTE. See that hole in the wall? YOUR stupid cow made that. Yer goin’ to prison to pay for my court! B. IVORY: GOD CURSE AMERICA!

Logico grows weary again as he wonders what’s supposed to happen next. But he’s greeted by Mint.

MINT: Twilight 2, just take a breath, and come and follow me. I swear I know the perfect place, the place you want to be.

And reluctantly, Logico follows him, praying that he’ll be able to come home.

The end!

I got stuff to do today, so i kinda rushed through the intro rip

Anyway, that's NINE new character drafts. I wonder which ones are gonna get full artworks

Farewell, Twilight II

The power of Goat Lord compels you!

See you next time murdlers!

[mcytblrconfessions-but-badder]

aint even going on anon. broski there is a large fucking portion of ‘oughhh cancel them’ shit that was over. someone phrasing shit bad. someone being a stupid teenager , at the teenage age. someone getting into a petty fight. someone making a bad joke. it really doesn’t fucking matter to the ‘if theyve been cancelled i hate them’ viewpoint if the cc apologised or straight up didnt know at the time they were wrong, then learned better from that event.

like i get if they have a long history of being a dickass or something, or even if you get the moralocd icks over someone, but like. If you quantify someone’s worth over ‘did they ever do anything wrong’ your list of cc’s to watch is fucking zero. Your list of people you can talk to is zero. You yourself will soon join the list of those who have made mistakes and my gods, I am no longer willing to look at that list.

I know to not give some of them money or worth or even speak their names. But I’m so fucking tired of hypervigilance and shooting myself in the heart for being off-putting to people, and I figured why should I care? They are a human. I am a human. Nothing really matters in the end, people like Trump and John Lennon still got (and get) money and still exist. Placing human worth on maleable moral values is just as childish as pretending the bad things didn’t happen. It is up to you who you like and dislike.

Learn what the block button is and use it as pettily as you please, but my gods, don’t slam people over making different decisions than you. (feel free to block me over this lmao. tbh i will forget i wrote this in a week lmao)

.

[dweetwise]

[Riconti] Ashes to Ashes

Once in a blue moon, I apparently have to write pure angst. For those not familiar with archives lore, Wallace is from Ace's tome "Go for Broke". Rated T | ❗ Major character death ❗ | 3.7k words | ao3 link

It’s a cold spring day.

The sky is gray and the ground is damp, covered in leaves that have rotted from orange to brown over the winter. A few ravens perched in a nearby tree and a car horn sounding somewhere far away are the only signs of life.

The casket next to the empty grave only radiates death.

Wallace swallows thickly and straightens the shirt he didn’t have time to iron this morning. The graveyard is windy and he’s already freezing, but if there’s anything he owes the bastard it’s to be there for him this one last time.

Like he wasn’t on the night he died.

Cold stings in Wallace’s suddenly wet eyes and he blinks the feeling away. He looks at the priest to try to figure out what they’re waiting for, but she just stands there and silently watches the only guest apart from Wallace who bothered to show up.

Wallace has never seen him before today. He’s tall and blond and dressed in a full black tux, the color so dark it makes his already pale skin appear a sickly white. A black dress shirt with a black tux is probably against some kind of dress code but apparently this guy really wants to pretend to be mourning.

Wallace doesn’t even own a tux. He’s wearing a simple green jacket and patterned yellow shirt with denim blue jeans.

Because Ace loved color. Red was his favorite color but Wallace couldn’t do red, not after the gunshots and sirens and running up to the motel room only to see the slumped body and splatters along the wall and red, red, red—

Wallace clenches his trembling fists until his nails dig into his palms. He fucking told Ace that those people were bad business but Ace didn’t care, laughing it off with a flippant, “I’ve cheated death more times than you can count, buddy. Have you forgotten how lucky I am?”

Now Wallace won’t even get the chance to say, “I told you so”. He doesn’t understand why Ace was so reckless, how he’d somehow gotten the idea that he was immortal.

Wallace relaxes his fists and looks back at the other man. It’s just the two of them: Wallace tried to get a hold of Ace’s remaining relatives in Argentina but couldn't find any. He always suspected that neither Ace nor Visconti were his real names, but that’s what Wallace knew him as and he refused to dig further. Ace would have told him if he wanted him to know.

But fake names or not, their friendship was real. Wallace didn’t always think so, but then Ace showed up one day from god-knows-where, after seven years of complete radio silence, laughing and slapping Wallace’s back and asking, “Miss me?” with that stupid, cocky smirk of his.

Wallace’s chest felt full then, like something he didn’t even know was missing was slotting back into place. He didn’t care that the bastard disappeared without a word or that he took even dumber and more careless risks than before. He was just glad to have him back.

Ace claimed he’d been in Europe working a con all those years. He was just as shady as usual, not saying much because Wallace didn’t ask. But based on the spring in his step and the grin he got whenever his phone buzzed, Wallace knew he’d found something more than just a quick buck in Europe. That chick had to be real special for Ace to stick around that long and even attempt long-distance after he returned to the States.

Or that’s what Wallace thought, but there's no mystery lady standing by his grave now. She clearly didn’t give a shit about Ace: she was probably the one who put those reckless thoughts in his head in the first place, demanding he earn more money to fund a life of luxury for her. Wallace doesn't know anything about her but he still hates her.

He looks at the blond again. He’s standing ramrod straight with his chin up like rich folks so often do. He has to be a lawyer or something, because Wallace was told there was someone to arrange the funeral and take care of Ace’s assets. Or the lack thereof.

The lawyer’s face is stone cold and without any emotion. Another asshole who’s probably happy Ace died just so he could get money out of it; Wallace knows the sort. At least this one had the decency to show up to the funeral.

“What’re we waitin’ for?” Wallace asks.

“The others,” the man says in an accent Wallace can’t place. It catches him off guard: not your typical west coast lawyer, then.

“There’s no one else comin’,” Wallace says through gritted teeth, because he doesn’t want to spell out that Ace didn’t have friends.

The man finally turns to face him for the first time since they got here. His expression is just as neutral as before, but his eyes are…wrong, somehow. His gaze flirts all over the place and he almost looks lost, completely at odds with the rest of his carefully presented persona. Like a crack in the facade.

“Just a few more minutes,” the man says.

“Alright,” Wallace agrees.

The stranger turns back to stare unblinking at the casket and, not having anything else to do, Wallace keeps looking at him to try to figure him out. The tux is tailored to a T and his watch looks expensive, making Wallace’s mind immediately jump to how much he could pawn it for. Bad habit.

Wallace frowns as he notices the man’s hands are scarred and blemished. He looks so perfectly put-together otherwise but his hands are in piss-poor shape, with bitten nails and picked cuticles and scabs that have barely healed. Wallace spots gloves peeking out from his pocket and realizes he probably usually covers them. But not for this, for some reason.

The guy must be cold in nothing but the tux, but he still insists on waiting. For what?

Wallace opens his mouth to ask again, when he hears it.

Car doors slamming and the gradually growing sound of voices and footsteps on gravel. And not just those of one or two people.

Wallace turns to look. Through the nearest cemetery gates, what has to be a group of nearly thirty people are making their way over. Young and old, men and women and boys and girls, chatting, laughing and some already wiping away tears. They’re dressed in both formal and casual clothes mostly in black, but also in earth tones and pastels and neons. Most of them are carrying flowers—more flowers than Wallace has ever seen at once.

Wallace blinks. Are they here for Ace? All of them?

A few of them push their way to the front of the group. A black woman in an evening gown and a blond girl in jeans and a sweater hurry past Wallace and to the other man.

The woman puts her hand on his shoulder. “Felix,” she says, voice gentler than her fancy exterior would suggest.

The girl comes to stand in front of the man—Felix—and looks up at him. “Are you okay?”

Wallace expects him to nod or at most mumble an unenthusiastic, “I’m fine.” Instead, the rich, obnoxious dick who Wallace hated nearly on sight simply…breaks.

Wallace watches as his face twists in agony and he hunches in on himself, his body wracked with ugly sobs that sound so unfitting for a man of his caliber. The women pull him tight and he clings to them desperately. It doesn’t even seem like he’s faking the tears. Maybe his arrogance was just an act.

The girl is crying now too, her hands trembling where she’s holding onto him. Her eyeliner is already running down her cheeks and ruining her makeup. The other woman doesn’t cry, but she squeezes the man’s shoulder and murmurs quiet reassurance.

More of the group hurry over to flock around the grieving trio, all worried faces and silent tears and, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” while the blond guy just keeps crying. Wallace can barely see him through the crowd; it’s like they’re shielding him from the world and Wallace’s prying eyes alike. Wallace doesn’t think a man like him needs protecting, but he still looks away out of politeness.

The rest of the group gather around the casket. They murmur and whisper amongst each other, some offering comforting words and touches to the ones who start sniffling.

Who the hell are these people, appearing out of nowhere to cry by Ace’s grave?

“Hey, you must be Wallace,” comes a voice from behind him.

Wallace turns to find a nerdy white guy standing in front of him. He looks young and has old-fashioned glasses and an ill-fitting suit, but he stands straight and looks Wallace right in the eye, with an air of quiet confidence that catches Wallace off guard.

“Y-yeah,” Wallace stutters. Clearly, he could use some of that same confidence.

The man gives a little smile and holds out his hand. “Dwight Fairfield. It’s good to finally meet you.”

Wallace accepts the handshake and asks, “You’ve heard about me?”

Dwight huffs, like something is funny. “More than you can imagine.”

—

With all of them there, the priest starts the ceremony. It’s short and simple and Wallace is thankful, because the only deity Ace ever believed in was lady Fortuna.

Dwight gives a eulogy. Wallace doesn’t understand most of it and by the looks of it neither does the priest, but he doesn’t need to know what trials mean or why some campfire is important to get the gist of it. This is the seven years of Ace’s life Wallace knows nothing about: these are the people he met and the life he led. So many people from all over the world—France, China, Brazil, Japan—and they all came here for Ace.

Wallace is glad Felix made him wait for them.

A black girl in a floral dress arranges the flowers on the casket. There’s so many different kinds and she quietly explains what they all mean, and Wallace chokes on a sob when she tells Ace’s casket, “And Snowdrops for good luck, because I want you to have that even when yours ran out.”

A redhead with glasses places incense by the gravestone. Wallace only then notices it says Ace Visconti, and he doesn’t know what strings someone had to pull to engrave it with Ace’s chosen name and not his legal one, but he’s grateful for it.

The incense smells like warmth and fire, comforting and so different from the cold and wet around them.

Felix wordlessly slides down to his knees beside the casket and nobody seems surprised by this other than Wallace. The expensive tux will probably be ruined by mud but Felix doesn’t appear to care: like he’s happy to lower himself to Ace’s level even if it means everyone else is now looking down on them. He places his hand—scars and calluses and all—on the smooth wooden surface of the casket and sits there for several minutes, murmuring words in a language Wallace doesn’t understand.

When Felix rises, Dwight asks Wallace if he wants to say something. Wallace shakes his head: he’s not good at speeches and he didn’t bring anything fancy to leave on Ace’s grave. 

The alligator tooth he won all those years ago presses into his chest under his shirt, but Ace would be pissed if he left it on the grave. He’d say something like, “I’m already dead, what the hell do you think I’m gonna do with a gator tooth necklace? Win a ghost beauty pageant?”

Or maybe Wallace just wants something of Ace’s to hold onto.

At the priest’s encouragement, some of the men in the group help lower the casket into the grave. Wallace assumed they’d have to let the church staff do it since it was just him and Felix, but now there’s also a big bearded man and a guy with face tattoos and a loud Brit and a quiet Hispanic man who help them put Ace into the ground.

A blonde woman plays guitar and sings. The song is melancholy and her voice sounds familiar, accompanied by sniffles from several people in the group. The priest gives a few parting words after to close the ceremony.

And then they shovel.

Silence hangs heavy in the air. Just as Wallace hopes this will be quick so he can go drown his sorrows in booze, the Brit points his shovel down at the casket and says, “Just layin’ there while we do all the work, eh? Lazy wanker.”

Several people laugh, and then others join in to tell stories and share memories of Ace and Wallace does too, even if he still doesn’t know what a trial is. He tells them about his and Ace’s big win in Seattle and one of the girls, the redhead with braids, snorts and asks, “Was that the time Ace stole a uniform and pretended to be a dealer so you guys could scam the casino?”

Wallace stutters and they all look at him expectantly. Some of the kids are grinning and even Felix is smiling, though his eyes are still red from crying.

Wallace finds himself chuckling and giving them the unfiltered version of the story, now knowing they can handle the not-so-legal parts of it. His audience listens raptly and some even chime in with details Wallace didn’t know about that day—or just typical exaggerations Ace would have added to the story. He doesn’t bother correcting them.

The priest shortly leaves—probably not thrilled about them bonding over gambling and stealing—but the whole group stays to wait for them to finish shoveling. 

Even after they’re done, nobody makes a move to leave; on the contrary, they all settle into a big circle on the ground, carelessly dirtying their nice dresses and suits. Felix takes a seat next to the grave and the black woman sits down on his other side, with the rest already having fallen into place like it’s a practiced effort. Like everyone has their own place.

Wallace hesitates. He thought they were done here, but the others urge him to join them, pointing at the other side of the filled grave. Wallace does as told and realizes the grave acts like an empty spot, like Ace is still part of the group.

Before Wallace can get too sentimental, a man with a prosthetic arm thumps a big cooler in the middle of the circle and beers and sodas begin exchanging hands. An Indian woman starts dealing playing cards and several bets are made among the group before the game even starts. The singer whips out her guitar again and starts strumming an upbeat melody.

“Is this allowed?” Wallace asks even as his chest warms. “It’s a graveyard. Isn’t this against the rules or somethin’?” 

An older black man shrugs. “Loitering isn’t grounds for arrest and I think Felix is more than capable of paying a fine if someone calls the police.”

Wallace only then notices a badge peeking out from his shirt pocket. He’s a cop: Ace somehow befriended a cop, and now he’s here, honoring Ace’s memory with an illegal party like the rest of them.

“Here,” Dwight says, handing Wallace a beer.

Wallace doesn’t ask if they should be drinking and celebrating at a time like this. He just uncaps his beer and raises it along with the others once they toast and the Brit booms, “To Ace!”

Because a party is exactly what Ace would have wanted.

—

They stay there for hours; laughing, playing, drinking and telling stories. Wallace actually makes an effort to get to know this strange group, though he still doesn’t catch all of their names.

Once the sun starts setting, the Korean woman complains about the cold even though she’s wearing a fur jacket. Jane fishes out a pair of keys from her pantsuit and says they have more blankets and snacks in the car, prompting the Brazilian siblings to jump up and volunteer to retrieve them.

On the other side of the circle, the boy with dark bags under his eyes has nodded off against Cheryl’s shoulder. Meg and Jake argue over whether to start a fire now that it’s getting dark, with Meg saying it’s not the same without a real campfire and Jake claiming they’ll end up burning down the whole graveyard. Adam manages to resolve the argument by retrieving a large lantern from the car, lighting up the area with a warm yellow.

Despite everyone’s best efforts to celebrate life and not mourn death, Wallace feels the heavy shroud of grief hanging over all of them. There’s a moment of hesitation whenever a card game ends and someone has to deal the players in again, strange gaps in conversation like they all expect Ace to fill the silence, and bright eyes glazing over in sadness whenever someone looks at his grave.

But there’s also joy and camaraderie. The wind is cold and the ground they’re sitting on is dull and brown, but Wallace can finally see a few flower buds sprouting through the rotten leaves. The group has lost one of their own but they choose to remember the good and not the bad; it’s probably a kindness Ace doesn’t deserve, but Wallace’s throat still feels tight with emotion from the respect being shown.

When the next card game ends, the Chinese girl starts cursing vividly, glaring at the grave and accusing Ace of cheating. Wallace laughs, because if Ace could, he would. Even from beyond the grave.

Some of the guys gather around newly appeared bottles of vodka for a drinking contest and the Japanese woman promptly gets up to join them. Her name must be Yui, because that’s what nearly everyone starts chanting.

Yui wins, drinking the much larger men under the table with what seems like barely any effort. There’s cheers and whoops from around the circle before the singer—Kate—encourages everyone to sing a campfire song together.

Wallace doesn’t know the song so he looks around, only to notice Felix quietly fiddling with something in his hands. It’s a ring: a particularly worn and gray and ugly ring, probably made of simple steel and not even silver. Why would someone like him even have a cheap knock-off like that?

Felix’s bitten nails trail over the inside of the ring and catch on an engraving and Wallace nearly swallows his tongue. He realizes he’s seen that ring many times before: Ace throwing it in the air and catching it; Ace fiddling with it in his pocket when he was impatient; Ace wearing it on his ring finger whenever a con needed him to pretend to be married; Ace having it engraved with some corny Latin phrase because it was supposedly another of his good luck charms.

When Ace returned from Europe, he claimed to have lost the ring, and Wallace should have smelled his bullshit right then and there. Ace wasn’t sentimental about a lot of things but his lucky charms were always the exception. Wallace had helped Ace throw a motel room upside down in search of a rabbit’s foot, listened to years’ worth of complaints after he won the gator tooth from him in a bet, and painstakingly superglued an old poker chip back together after it got run over by a car and Ace just sat on the sidewalk cradling the broken pieces like he was holding an injured animal.

Wallace should have known better than to think Ace would have just lost the ring.

Felix abruptly stills and Wallace realizes he’s been caught staring. Their eyes meet and Felix curls his hand around the ring, holding it tightly against his chest.

A lot of things suddenly make sense and Wallace feels stupid for not realizing it before. Felix isn’t even wearing the ring, but he doesn't have to: marriage isn’t meant for people like Ace and Wallace, and just Felix having something so important of Ace’s and being this protective of it says more than enough.

Wallace considers pulling out the alligator tooth to rest over his shirt instead of hiding it underneath, but he doesn’t want to give off the wrong impression. Ace was like a brother to him and he’s not sure what exactly he was to Felix—friend, lover, partner, kindred spirit?—but the specifics probably don’t even matter. Whatever they were, Ace was happy with Felix.

Wallace settles on a meaningful nod to Felix, giving his approval even if it wasn’t asked for. He then quickly turns back to observe the group’s singing, but can’t help smiling to himself: looks like Ace’s special European someone made it here after all.

“I’m gonna do a handstand!” someone drunkenly announces as soon as the singing stops.

“You only have one hand, jackass!” Nea pipes up.

“Does anyone want to dance?” one of the siblings asks, swaying a little on her feet.

“What, on Ace’s grave?” Zarina asks, arching an eyebrow. “Even I’m not that glad to be rid of him.”

Laughter erupts from the group once again. A few people roll their eyes at the alcohol-fueled antics but nobody protests or shushes the progressively louder voices; not even when someone suggests a handstand contest that will most likely end in a visit to the ER.

Wallace braves another glance at Felix but he’s just smiling again. Most people probably wouldn’t welcome this kind of behavior at the funeral of someone they loved, but Felix knew Ace—all of these people did, maybe even better than Wallace. And they stuck by Ace’s side for seven years and made this horrible day into a celebration he would be proud of.

Seven years. That’s all the time it took for Ace to somehow become a man Wallace barely recognizes anymore. He did what Wallace never thought either of them capable of, what he’d have bet his entire life savings on never happening.

Ace found a family.

Wallace bows his head and chuckles, addressing the empty space on his right. “Twenty-five years of friendship and you still keep surprisin’ me.”

He thinks that, somewhere, Ace is smiling.

[kelyon]

Courtship 16: Trousseau

To prepare for her new life, Mr. Gold's fiancee updates her wardrobe.

Read on AO3

The Wednesday before her wedding, Miss French sat, ramrod straight, in a booth at Granny’s Diner. Ice slowly melted into the dregs of her iced tea. 

She was alone.

Ruby the waitress sidled up to the table, her face a cautious cringe. 

“Are you still waiting for them?”

Digging her nails into her palms, Miss French looked at the clock above the diner counter. 12:17. They wouldn’t be that late, not both of them. Not unless something really bad had happened.

Her eyes shifted to her hands, her engagement ring. Well, maybe something really bad had happened, at least from their perspective.

Her stomach rumbled, but she couldn’t stay here. Mr. Gold’s fiancee couldn’t sit alone at Granny’s and eat a hamburger like some schlub on a lunch break. Sitting here waiting for them had already been more than enough public humiliation. 

They’d had lunch together every Wednesday since graduation and they didn’t even bother to tell her? Not even a phone call? 

Fuck them.

“No,” Miss French said firmly. She reached into her purse and set a fifty on the table. “No, I should be on my way. Apologies for wasting the space, Miss Lucas.”

Ruby gaped, first at the cash and then at Miss French. The waitress’ awe was cold comfort, but at least Mr. Gold’s money impressed some people. Miss French put on her coat and strutted through the restaurant like a model on a catwalk.

Behind her, she heard Ruby squeak out, “Come again!”

Miss French rolled her eyes and left.

****  

She hadn’t been in Mara’s store since the grand opening a year or so ago. Poor little Lacey French never had a reason to look at lingerie. Even if the florist’s daughter had money to burn, who was she going to wear fancy underwear for? Hunter? He was a Philistine, a child.  The confections sold at Sugar’n’Spice would have been wasted on him. Like so many other things, Miss French’s desire for satin and lace had lain dormant for most of her life, unknown even to herself. She’d been waiting for Mr. Gold to come along and wake her up. 

She burst through the double doors, letting a blast of freezing wind blow through the tiny storefront. It was a cramped space, though some might call it “cozy” or “boutique.” The air was thick with the smell of fake roses oozing from a candle burning by the cash register. The area near the door was discreetly filled up with nighties and robes. Pink and red polyester teased at what other delights might be found deeper within. There weren’t any other customers.

“You know,” Miss French said loudly, “for someone who’s trying to make a living off of making women feel sexy, you sure are quick to judge consenting adults.”

Mara Trudine looked up from a table where she’d been arranging thongs printed with hearts.

“Oh,” she said dully. Her typical easy smile and knowing eyes were nowhere to be found. She looked like she’d eaten a bucket of concrete. “Hi.”

“Did I get the day wrong?” Miss French made her voice bright and fake. “It is Wednesday, isn’t it? Am I so stupid I lost track of the days of the week?”

Miss Trudine sighed. “So Janine stayed home too?”

“I don’t know where she is--I haven’t seen her!” She smiled. “See, I was sitting alone at Granny’s waiting to have lunch with my best friends when I realized I’d be having a lot more fun if I was buying lingerie!”

Spinning on her cobalt stilettos, Miss French turned away and started picking clothes off the racks. She grabbed everything, not caring about style or color, and definitely not looking at the prices.

“You see,” Miss French went on in the same cheerful tone, “Mr. Gold is very particular about what underthings I’m wearing.” She stopped, giggled. “Or not wearing.”

 “Listen, I get that you’re mad at me, but--”

“Why would I be mad at you?” Miss French stared at the shopgirl. She smiled so hard her face hurt. “What do you matter?”

At first, the girl looked more surprised than offended--the shock of being slapped in the face before the pain could set in. Then her features hardened. Her freckled brow furrowed.

“Well, screw you too,” she said. “If that’s how you feel, why are you even here?”

“To spend money!” Miss French giggled. “Mr. Gold insists that I wear the best lingerie, and, well--” She made an exaggerated look around the modest store. “At least this is the best in Storybrooke.”

Miss Trudine wasn’t having any of this. “I think you should leave.” 

“Do you really?” Miss French pulled a stack of fifty dollar bills out of her purse. “Because Mr. Gold wants me to spend all of this today. And he’ll probably give me more tomorrow.”

Jaw clenched, the little entrepreneur looked down at the money on the table. Miss French knew the calculations going on in her business-track brain: How much money that was, how many bills it could pay, how many other customers it would take to add up to the same sum, how long it would take a specialty store in a podunk town to get that many customers. It all added up to the same result. 

She sighed in defeat. “What are you looking for?”

“What do you have in white?” she asked. “I don’t know if you heard, but I’m getting married on Saturday.”

Miss Trudine opened her mouth to speak, then seemed to think better of it. Instead, she pointed to a corner. “Bridal section is over there.”

Beaming, the future Mrs. Gold snatched up the cash and pranced over to a rack of white tulle. Her skirt today was flouncy. Frilly fabric bounced against her thighs as she walked, a constant reminder of who she was and why she was doing this.

Her first instinct was to grab everything in her size, throw money at Mara, and run home to try things on. But was that really how Mrs. Gold would act? Would Mrs. Gold be in a hurry for anyone other than her husband? Would Mrs. Gold bother to do things in the privacy of her own home when she could put someone in their place by doing it in front of them? 

Of course not.

Leisurely, she skimmed through the bra and panty sets. She ran her fingers over silky polyester and scratchy lace. When something caught her eye, she held it up against her body, as though that would tell her anything. She carried the hangers on one fingertip like they weighed nothing. Mrs. Gold would wear underwear like this every day, every day Mr. Gold allowed her to wear anything at all.

“Is there a fitting room?” she asked when she had taken everything she wanted off of one rack.

“Over there,” Miss Trudine pointed to a drape-covered archway. Her mouth worked as she decided how much customer service she wanted to offer the person who had once been her best friend. “Let me know if you need anything in a different size.”

“Oh, I will!” Miss French threatened. 

****

She was pickier than she needed to be, wasting time trying on everything, asking for different sizes and colors. The shopgirl spent the afternoon running back and forth across the store with new items for her to try. Nothing went untested. Corsets and stockings and nighties--everything that was pretty or scandalous or tempting.

“Oh, Mr. Gold is going to love this one,” Miss French squealed. 

It might have been made just for him. The fabric--see-through and skimpy as it was--was a rich, luscious burgundy. All the clasps and fittings were gold. It was relatively traditional, classy as these things went. A plunging bra and barely-there panties, and a garter belt that clung to her waist deliciously. The whole thing was both sexy and elegant, like an old-fashioned pinup. Nothing tawdry or cheap, just beauty.

The woman in the mirror looked poised and confident. There was no gap between who she wanted to be and who she was, and she knew it. In this outfit, she was worthy of being Mrs. Gold.

“Do you have stockings that can match this color?” she called out to the shopgirl.

“If I don’t have any in stock, I can probably order some,” she said from the other side of the curtain that functioned as a door. “What color is it?”

Giddy with triumph, Miss French threw open the curtain. She spread her arms and struck a pose. “Isn’t it gorgeous?”

For a second, Mara’s smile went genuine. “Oh yeah, that is such a great set. I’ve been--oh my God.”

She was so serious that for a second Lacey thought something terrible had happened. Mara’s face had gone white behind her freckles and her eyes didn’t move. She was staring at her. 

Staring at her arm.

“Oh!” Reflexively, Miss French giggled and rubbed the spot where Mr. Gold’s bruise still lingered. It had been a few days, so it wasn’t warm anymore. The raised pink had settled down into a mottled purple. It was still a perfect rectangle, still the shape of the ruler he had used to punish her.

“What happened?” Mara whispered. “And tell me the truth. Don’t give me some bullcrap about slipping on ice or something.”  

Taking a deep breath, Miss French dragged her fingers over from the bruise. It still hurt when she pressed it. The pain steadied her.

“Your suspicions are correct,” she said lightly. “Mr. Gold did this.”

“I’m calling Sheriff Graham.”

“Don’t!” She grabbed her friend by the arm before she could leave the changing room. “It wasn’t a crime. I wanted him to do it.”

“Then I’m calling Dr. Hopper. You’re sick in the head!”

“No, I’m not!” Miss French shouted. “What a stupid thing to say! You think the way a person gets their kicks is enough to make them psychotic? What, are you gonna get me committed for having fun?”

Miss Trudine’s brown eyes blazed with righteous fury. “He is hurting you. You’ve been dating him for what--a week?--and he’s getting you to marry him. He is turning you against your friends and family. This is bad, Lace!”

“It’s my friends and family who are turning me against them. Mr. Gold has nothing to do with it.”

“Are you even allowed to call him by his first name? Do you even know it?”

Miss French scoffed. “That doesn’t matter. He could be named Barbara for all I care, it doesn’t change how I feel!”

“How do you feel?” The shopgirl didn’t let up. “Do you feel safe? Do you think you can say no to him? Lacey, do you even love him?”

“There is more to life than lo-o-ove,” she sneered. She walked over to the pile of hangers and fabric and grabbed a handful of lingerie. She shook it under Miss Trudine’s nose. “You love this shit. You love your business, but you’re going to go broke trying to make it work. You can’t charge a week’s worth of groceries for a single pair of underwear!”

“This isn’t about my career. This is about--”

“Mr. Gold is going to tear these off my body with his teeth.” Miss French snarled. “Because that’s what we think about what you love. Then I’m going to come in here and buy more and you’re gonna stay in business. Because it isn’t love that makes the world go round, it is money. And if you ever say another word about my choices, you will never see any of my money again.”

The girl’s gaze was steady, but her eyes were tearing. “I’m your friend, Lacey. I want to help you.”

“You can’t,” Miss French snapped. “I should have figured that out a long time ago. Mr. Gold is the only one who can give me what I want.”

“Since when do you care so much about stuff?” Miss Trudine whispered in disbelief.

“Since I’ve finally been able to get any.” Miss French went back to the mirror. She admired her body, and the way the outfit flattered her. Mr. Gold would definitely enjoy ripping it to shreds. And his enjoyment, his pleasure, his approval--that mattered more than anything in the world. “Besides, stuff is just the beginning.”

****

Back in her room above the flower shop, the future Mrs. Gold started packing. The clothes she had accumulated since she’d started dating Mr. Gold had already filled up her childhood dresser. There were more clothes she hadn’t worn yet, still neatly folded in the paper shopping bags from Modern Fashions. Emptying her drawers, she filled up the bags with everything she wanted to take with her. She would move into Mr. Gold’s house after the honeymoon. The only thing that wasn’t brand-new was the purple sequined dress she had worn on their first date.   

Everything she wanted for the honeymoon was in a little leather suitcase Mr. Gold had loaned her. She didn’t have a lot of clothes to pack for that, and what she did have was too skimpy to take up much room.

She tossed the rest into plastic garbage bags. Her faded underwear and stretched-out sports bras were useless. Cotton socks went the way of her dirt-stained sneakers and worn-out loafers. T-shirts with too many holes to wear in public used to be repurposed into pajama shirts--she didn’t need those anymore. Rags. None of this was good enough for Mrs. Gold. 

There were some things that weren’t total trash. Some of these jeans and t-shirts would have lasted Lacey French another year or more. The slacks and blouses were nice enough, if entirely unsuitable for Mr. Gold’s stupid slut. There was a part of her that couldn’t completely discard these things. Even if she didn’t want them in her life anymore, they weren’t worthless.

She picked up the gray cable-knit sweater that had once belonged to her cousin Andrew. She’d worn it in front of Mr. Gold and he hadn’t liked it. She wouldn’t be able to wear the sweater as his wife, but there was no way she could just pitch  it.

There was an answer. She didn’t like it, but it was the right thing to do. With a heavy sigh, Miss French opened up a clean garbage bag and started a new category of clothes.

****

The next morning, she hefted three trash bags over to the only yellow house in Old Town, the only house Mr. Gold didn’t own. The plastic sign for Janine’s business desperately proclaimed Hair Today! The name had always annoyed Lacey and wasn’t any more endearing to Miss French.

Without knocking, she opened the unlocked door.

“Hello?” she called, unsure of who would answer.

The TV was on in the living room, providing the only light in the empty space. The curtains were drawn, so everything was dim and gloomy. In the middle of February, the artificial Christmas tree was still in the corner, undecorated and unlit. 

The Woolvertons always waited until Christmas Eve to put up their ornaments--letting the kids stay up as late as they needed to for the job to be done. The car crash had happened in the time between putting the tree up and decorating it. Now the bare tree loomed over their living space like the shadow of death itself. 

“Aunt Terri?” Lacey’s voice quavered. 

“She’s asleep.” Janine leaned against the doorway between the living room and the kitchen, cradling a mug of coffee. “Or at least she’s in bed. She spends most of her time in bed until Chloe gets home from school.”

“Oh.”

“Did you want to talk to her? Maybe apologize for whatever you did at the graveyard?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Miss French said coolly. “And I wanted to see you. I just wasn’t sure if you’d be up here or in the basement.”

Janine shrugged. “I don’t have any appointments today and the phone number is the same for the business and the house.”

“Oh that’s dumb,” she blurted. 

Mom had always been insistent on separating Game of Thorns business from their home life. The store had a separate phone line, and even an answering machine so they wouldn’t feel like they had to be on call after hours. Family time was family time, was what she always said. 

Janine didn’t respond to her criticism. She shifted her weight, so she was standing up straight. “You want to talk to me?”

“Yeah.” She picked up one of the garbage bags by the strained plastic handle. “I’ve got some clothes I thought you might want.”

Her cousin’s face had no expression. “Because you have a brand-new wardrobe.”

She shrugged. “Yeah, I do.”

“Courtesy of Storybrooke’s most bloodthirsty loan shark.”

Miss French pressed her lips into a thin line. “He never asks you people for blood, just money.”

The hairdresser scoffed. “‘Us people’? Like you’re so different from us peasants.”

“Well, I am the only girl he asked to marry him.”  

“Cuz you’re the only one who would say yes. I don’t know if that means you’re crazy or brainwashed or--”

“Stupid?” Miss French bared her teeth. She took a step forward. “Do you think I don’t know who he is? Do you think I don’t know what he wants? Do you think I don’t want to give it to him?”

“I think you’re making a mistake,” Miss Woolverton’s blue eyes were all ice. “I think you don’t understand what kind of choice you’re making. And I think if you just waited--”

“Waited for what?” She sighed. “Wait for things to get better? For the business to turn around? For us to finally get ahead a little? I’ve been waiting my whole life for that shit. I thought getting good grades was working towards a future, but that’s just more broken promises. Janine, you know that. You’re here in it with me. You thought your future was gonna be different too. Don’t you want to escape? Don’t you want to win? For once?”

Janine shook her head. Her free hand rubbed the space between her eyebrows. “This isn’t the way to do it, Lacey.”

“I know what you think,” she swallowed. “I wish I could make you understand.”

“I do understand.” Janine took a step closer.  “You’re right, I do want to escape. I want to live in a world where the bad things never happened, where we could believe in even the possibility of a happy ending. But just because we don’t live in that world doesn’t mean you have to abandon every principle we were raised with.”

“What did principles ever get us?” Miss French muttered.   

“Being good isn’t about getting things. You do what’s right because it’s the right thing to do.”

“Virtue is its own reward?” She scoffed. “So far I’ve found vice to be much more satisfying.”

Her cousin sighed and looked down into her coffee.

“Anyway, I’ll just leave the stuff here,” Lacey gestured to the bags. “Been a while since we had a clothes swap.”

“I don’t want them,” Miss Woolverton said softly. 

“Oh come on, there’s decent stuff in here. You always liked that white sweater I wore to--”

“Stop.” Her voice was firmer now, her face sadder. In the harsh lights and murky shadows, she almost looked like Mom. “I don’t want your garbage, Lacey.”

“It’s not--”

“It is to you,” she said. “You’re going off to a fancy new life. You think you don’t need these clothes anymore, and maybe you don’t. But you can’t just throw stuff at me and think it’s the same as sharing.”

“I offered to share my new life with you. Honestly, the offer’s still on the table. We can go to Modern Fashions and I’ll buy you a bridesmaid’s dress right now.”

The heaviest sigh yet. “Oh, Lacey,” she said. “Just because Gold can buy you, it doesn’t mean you can buy us.”

“I’m not--”

“Yes, you are. You remember that book we read in middle school? The Witch of Blackbird Pond? There’s a difference between giving generous gifts and just tossing things away because of pride, because you have so much stuff it doesn’t matter.” 

“The family in that book were literal Puritans.”

Miss Woolverton looked at her with insufferable patience. “There’s a better way to win in life,” she said. “Yes, times have been tough lately. They’ve been terrible.” She blinked a couple of times, pushing back tears. “But nothing good is going to come from you marrying Gold.”

“You don’t know that,” she said. “And you’re wrong anyway. Good stuff has already come from me being with Mr. Gold.”

She shook her head. “I hope I am wrong. I hope you can be happy with him. I hope he’ll be good to you, good for you. Maybe you’ll bring out the best in him, instead of him bringing out the worst in you.”

Miss French rolled her eyes. “I’m not interested in changing Mr. Gold.”

“Of course not,” the hairdresser said. “You don’t think there’s anything wrong with him. That’s your whole problem.”