#i felt like i had a secret bug in the code that nobody else had

[cr1mson5returns]

Today I somehow managed to shatter the baby tooth that never fell out on its own and led to my growing a little fang tooth at age 12, and I just feel like this is such a specific annoyance.

[happyselves]

Pacify Him { Daniel Ricciardo x reader } /// WARNING EXPLICIT ///

Chapter : One shot Rating : Mature / Explicit / NSFW Words : 3,622 words

“Pacify her, she is getting on my nerves, hold your bitch before I push her away. You’re free to bring anyone here as long as they are behaving, but her … I don’t judge the person you are seeing, obviously I could give two shits about it but please tell her to calm herself down … This isn’t professional.”

You were fuming as you entered Daniel’s driver room,as his PR assistante you never interfere in his frequentation, but when it was impacting the reputation of the team and bugging people visiting the motorhome you had to step him. You calm yourself after a few breaths, stepping aside from Daniel a bit before looking at him again.

“ I didn’t mean to come that hard on you Daniel, but please you know how this is important right. You always ask for my honest opinion and there it is, I didn’t mean it for it to step out this hard on you but I can’t apologize for my words when I was thinking about them. She is toxic for you, she brings the bad in you when you are someone adorable usually. What is happening to you that you don’t trust me enough anymore to tell me when something is going wrong ? And before you are shushing me off, you know I am right, you and I are a package deal. “

He was defeated, not even looking at you, his whole body was shutting down and his legs were giving up on him. He takes the closest seat near him, almost falling and barely able to sit gracefully like he used to do.

“ I don’t know … I am so lost, I keep doing stuff wrong, I can’t find my soul anymore, I’m not very myself recently, I can’t even find my smile being genuine in the morning when I wake up in the morning. I’m putting a mask for people to see, but I’m like an empty shell. This bitch as you call her is only here to distract me and try to make me feel alive. She is nothing and it was a mistake to bring her… “

You were very concerned about Daniel’s attitude, it was the first time since you have known him that he worries about you right now. You were kneeling in front of him, trying your best not to invade his personal space. It’s something new for you, not invading it, you never ever thought he needed one but he looked so fragile, then you were under the impression that if you were touching him he would vanish into dust.

“ You are scaring me, what’s happening, is it the team ? Something personal ? You know you can tell me everything … “ A long silence got installed, your eyes were starting to water by all the pain you were seeing in him. You thought he wouldn’t open up, he was shutting you out by the way his body was curling up and turning to avoid your gaze on him. He was protecting himself like a kid that was terrified of a big stormy night.

You wanted to be the one to reassure one, but you were practically sure you were part of the problem. You stand quietly, ready to leave him alone in his driver room because there was nothing you could do if he wasn’t letting you.

His reaction was imminent, the driver inside of him was popping up and his muscles memories acting for him as it was his turn to get up and close the space between you, shutting the opened door. You yelped out of surprise before feeling his pressing body against you. You were stuck between the wooden door and his warm torso. Feeling his heretic heartbeat pounding in his chest. You couldn’t speak, you were too shocked for that. You and him were friends, close friends but not that physically close. You never cross that boundaries, but today was different, you felt it was.

The seconds looked like hours waiting for the confirmation of your assumption. Daniel seems to be as surprised as you to have acted the way he did, it was too late to back away now.

“ Don’t leave … don’t walk out that door “ His forehead was now resting on the back of your head, slightly not to hurt you and put weight on it. You wanted to ignore all the fuzzy feelings flooding in your whole body, but you couldn’t. Having him so close to you awakens a deep feeling hidden in you. “ The bitch will go away I promise, I am sorry “

Why was he apologizing to you, he didn’t disappoint anyone, yet. You weren’t even mad, you learn better to not judge someone's fucked up attitude when you could recognize the coping mechanics of someone keeping a secret and trying to turn the attention away from himself for nobody to catch the true meaning behind these actions. Does that make it acceptable ? It was each individual to have their own opinion. It was annoying you, that Daniel was suffering but preferred to distract himself and run away from his problem instead of talking to you or anyone else.

You close your eyes, your own forehead finds the cold surface of the door, his own head following yours not breaking the contact. HIs hands find the side of your hip.

“ The bitch isn’t the problem isn’t it ? “ You asked without any certainty he will give you a proper answer to that. His thumbs were caressing the skin of your hips through the tissues of your teamwear shirt, drawing a circle. You were sure he didn’t even notice he was doing it, his body was only responding to one mood and it was the auto-pilot one.

You were searching for breath and the driver’s room was starting to get tighter by the meanings, you were about to suffocate if the situation in which you both were wasn’t going to change fast enough.

“ You are the only one that can take away my pain … “ It could pass for a simple sentence if it wasn’t so Daniel, you had learned the code of conduct of Daniel Ricciardo and that … that was a declaration. “ It was you and I before, remember ? “

You were missing a piece of puzzle here, what was he talking about, is he drunk ? You never act differently around him, nothing changes, it never does. Yes it was him and you, always have been.

“ What are you talking about Daniel, you are confusing me “

“ Why did it change, the two of us … “ He was responding to your question by another one, like he was having his own conversation in his head, you were tempted to let him speak his mind to discover the bottom of the problem.

“ It didn’t change Daniel … “ You were trying as much as you could to put everything together, in vain.

“ It did change, I can’t look at you the same way as before … “ There it was, a little clue. If only he knew that it has been a long time since you have been able to look at him the way he used to when you meet him the first time. It was more than annoying you that he had brought someone with him for the weekend, more than it should. You were fuming when you saw the unknown name on the list of guests and asked someone to lighten it for you.

“ I know you are lying, why would you react the way you just did before if you weren’t “ You wanted to look at him, but his body was still pressing you against the cold wood. You had so much to say and him as well, all this unspoken tension you both tried to make yourself believe was a liar. You were both frauds, your friendship switched into something more months ago after a drunk night. Nothing happened that night, only looks were exchanged. The battle you both had as a joke at first turned into something way more deeper than you both were expecting and when you both tried to pull out of it, the damage had been done. That night was an epiphany moment for you, awaking the true desire between you. Your bodies couldn’t lie, the need for them to touch, the flaming sensation of his skin against yours like it was happening right now. Everything happened before and since that night, it never was the same thing for Daniel and everything went downhill.

You move your hand, posting on the door and Daniel understands the message and detaches himself from you. You slowly turn, god he was a mess and you bet you weren’t better.

“ You bewitched me that night, seduced me with your eyes. It was a game at first and now look at us, where is the game now ? “ He wasn’t accusing you of anything, it was a simple statement, an understanding between you. Two people were playing the game and two people ended up losing.

“ That wasn’t my intention, I tried to pull away, it was too late “ Who sounds defeated now, the tables have turned and he brings you down with him to the bottom of his misery. A couple bruises on your heart that he created was all you needed to have the proof that at least you two had shared a moment. It had to stay professional, but as his face was closing up the gap, all your convictions were being erased one by one.

You didn’t wait for him, you joined him in the middle, your lips connected quicker than he had anticipated, your eyes shut down in synchronisation. You didn’t who reacted first and kissed the other one back. That lip was perfect, far from it, it was messy just like him, but it was passionate. His teeth were teasing your bottom lips, asking permission to tear the flesh of it apart. You moaned when his tongue was inviting you to open your mouth. The taste of your two saliva was so intoxicated that you almost fell and he had to catch you with both of his arms, supporting you from your lower back. His smile came back to life against your mouth, letting out a childish giggle and you hit his arm to make him stop making fun of your lack of stability.

HIs reaction was quick, if you couldn’t stand up anymore he would use that door to help you. He pushes you toward it and your back gets lean on it, his arms unlocking themselves to explore your body, finding where they were before except this style the hem of your shirt came loose, letting the palm of his hand directly enter in contact with your skin, sending you shivers.

You had forgotten your environnement, too busy burying your own hands in his dark curls, bringing him closer as much as possible. Your teeth were still clenching and air was starting to lack in your lounge. You didn’t want to let go, scared for the reality to be brought back. You have been dreaming for months about this. Having the fantasy in your head when the night was setting and the moon shining.

DSaniel didn’t let you think for another second as he used this little moment of rest when you stop kissing him for a second, to lift you up, grabbing your ass, his palm firmly around it. He moves you and remembered to lock the door before turning back his focus on you as he finally break the kiss to look at you. Lust could be seen all over your two faces. His face was not showing any sadness anymore, only mischievousness and happiness. If you knew that all you needed to do to bring back the Daniel you knew was to let your own desire take over you, you would have done it sooner.

He took the direction of the massage table beside him, putting you on the edge before finding your neck and kissing the soft skin. You let a snort escape when his scruff tickles a sensitive spot behind your ear. He laughs against the skin and the vibration changes the snort into a whining complaint. He traveled all the way down to your clavicle but the fabric of your shirt was stopping him. He didn’t wait for your approval to remove it, the force of the removal making you lift your arm automatically. They fall back on his neck when he throws the piece of tissue somewhere you will have a hard time finding back.

That was extremely hot from him and by your legs starting to spread a little bit and the heat you were starting to feel between them, he noticed acknowledge the effect he had on you and smirk, visibly proud of himself. It was not the time to hide yourself even if you could feel embarrassed, this man in front of you was everything you had dreamt of and it had the talent to make you feel confident of your body, just by the way he looks at every detail of your body.

You were eager to let him take the situation under his control and only his, not doing anything and just being the prize he was working on to have for so long. All the torment, the torture and the conviction he will never have you, he deserved it. You will get your prize another time … it was only the beginning for you.

He was taking his time with you,no matter how much his desire was waking up, he had one mission and one mission only; your pleasure. You could see the forming bulge in his pants and felt for him, imagining how inconfortable it must be for him.

It all went to dust when his hands found their way under your bra cupping your breast and his lips traveled your chest as he was kissing his way down. He was leaving wet kisses and blowing air on it, goosebumps started to appear quickly, head being jolted back.

You wish you knew what to do with your hands but they were gripping the leather of the massage table so hard your knuckles were getting white by the second. He didn’t seem to care as his hands found your pants, he pushed you a bit behind, making unspeakable demands for you to lift your ass so he could slide the piece of clothes down for it to join your shirt somewhere in the room.

You could barely keep your eyes open as you witnessed the extremely hot scene in front of you. Daniel between your legs, keeping the same pace with you, kissing his way up toward the inner of your thighs. You sensed his teeth nibbling your skin, licking every spot afterward, like he was trying to heal the pain he just caused you. Little did he know that pain you were feeling was arousing you even more, your panty was starting to visibly licked your excitement. It was feeling like torture, you thougth that Daniel would be like the others partner you had, your skin would get used to the touch after a moment and the horniness would stop at a certain level, thinking you had reach the maximal of his possibility. How wrong were you when you were on the verge to cum without him actually pleasuring you in this area. You knew it was coming, Daniel kisses were more hungry, teasing the flesh of your thigh turning red by the bite and the kisses.

His lips were swallowing, getting bigger by the unusual exercise they were carrying on, his tongue would feel numb if it was for the desire he had to taste you, letting it survive for a couple minutes still. You watch him, leaving a kiss on the wet fabric of your underwear, your eyes were blurrying by the anticipation of him finally finding your clit. His teeth end up moving the piece of dentelle that was the last barrier between you and him.

It was like he was home and belonged there, here with you, right in this instance, it was you and him against the world. Forgetting your environnement you let a cry escape a little bit too loud as soon his thick tongue was licking arousal. You thought that seeing the start was a legend, a fantasy, but Daniel had made you become reality as your head was banged back, finding the cold wall, your neck was stretching so hard that the blood was lacking in your brain making you see some sparkling spot. He needed you to stay quiet and as he tried to put one of his hands on your mouth he ended up finding the neck instead, squeezing it enough for you to moan his name as he was continuing his exploration of your pussy.

Your hands finally leave the grip of the massage table to find their new place around Daniel's arm. You were stretched out in front of him, so vulnerable, just for him and you were unable to give a proper reaction to being buried in the pleasure he was giving you. His tongue was teasing your entrance, making it hardening, pushing himself in you as you will. The thumb of his free hand was moving in a slow circle around your clit. He didn’t know the dilemma you were encountering, keeping your eyes shut and your head back or fighting his firm hand on your neck for you to see him eating you alive. You sure had to make a decision quickly because you were soon to arrive at the edge before you will let the orgasm consume your whole body.

By the sound you were making, Daniel had the confirmation he was doing everything in the right way for you. He never experienced such joy to make someone lose their composure due to his actions. He was feeling proud that he was finding it out with you. Every woman he had been with didn’t sound or look as beautiful and real as you spread in front of him right now. He could spend hours tasting you, how good you were for him, how reactive and sensitive your skin was becoming after being torn apart by him. How the thought of fucking you with his tongue had haunt his dream for the past couples of month now, but the reality of this was surpassing all his expectations. He wanted to be rough with you, all the dirty thoughts came back rushing into his brain, overwhelming him and sending twitch to his dick. Rather than being dominant, it was all about showing you how much he had wanted you and how willing he was to give you anything you wanted, because you deserved it. You deserved for him to make you forget every man you had sex with. Replacing all the bad and good memories with his own. Changing all the faces in your dream, planting his own in the own DNA of your imagination.

He could feel that you were holding it together for it to last longer, even if that meant losing the self-control you had in you. Your wall was tightening around his fat tongue. You were completely losing your mind at the foreword of sensation throwing at you at the same time. You were sure it was too much for one person and you could care less about the verbal explosion you might have in a couple of seconds. Daniel however, foreseeing your release, put two fingers in your mouth holding your jaw from your mouth, your lips closed themself around them and your tongue was soon relaxing on them. You bite his knuckles when his tongue replaces his thumb in one flick of the tongue, finally letting cum. Your legs were shaking and Daniel had to hold you for you not to hurt yourself, your eyes were rolling back as your orgasm hit you in small waves, sending you jolts of electricity around your body. Your brain was shutting down, the stifled moan never reaching the exterior of your mouth, dying down on Daniel’s fingers in sensual vibration that made his bulge react, begging to be taken care of.

It tooks you minutes to come back to the open world, Daniel’s eyes not leaving you for a second, admiring his work. You slowly come back to reality and automatically search for him, missing his touch already. Your eyes were still not open when you found the collar of his shirt and pulled him rather violently, crashing your lips together, taking a taste of your own juice still lingering on his lips. You sigh in the kiss, reassured that what just happened wasn’t just a dream and that you were far needing to wake up from it.You rest your forehead on his, the wave of pleasure was still leaving some after effects on you including dizziness.

You had to clear your throat as you realised no sound was coming it out the first time you tried to speak.

“ That bitch needs to go, tell her you replace her with a more living version. “

You couldn’t help but laugh at your own words and Daniel was smiling at the way you just described yourself.

“ She’s already gone, she was already gone before you burst into my room.

You didn’t know how to respond to that, but one thing for sure is that you will have a hard time making people outside of this room say that nothing happened between the two of you. At least you would not pissed them off and you were able to pacify him at any time.

MASTERLIST

[the--sad--hatter]

No Survivors - Chapter Two

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

Genre: Sci-fi, fantasy, space opera

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

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

The No Survivors Tumblr Blog | Masterlist 

Blurb:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I beg your pardon?” Marx spluttered.

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

“This is my laboratory!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.” Ice corrected.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 ~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tried?” He pressed, bemused.

“Tried.” She confirmed, firmly no less.

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

“I’m Captain…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who’s next?”

~~~

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

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

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

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

“But you’re….”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes?”

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

“What?”

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

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

NS Taglist (OPEN) 

@cateyes315​ @severepienerdturkey @justellu​

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

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

[braham-is-bi]

Okay so normally I would have left it at the bitchy post and move on but honestly I’ve had problems with Caithe’s writing for a long time and it’s high time I made a rant post so I can stop thinking about it.

Under the cut is a giant rant about how Anet shafted Caithe’s character and didn’t do her nearly close to the justice she deserved, while in the process messing with the Commander’s story in ways that still bother me and that I’ve rewritten in my own personal canon.

Tagging this as long post in case the readmore breaks. Tagging it as Caithe for personal filing. Don’t like it, don’t read it.

(spoilers for the entire game up through episode 5 of season 4 as well as mentions of abuse and criticisms of Caithe.)

TL;DR - Caithe’s writing is mediocre at best, but she had a lot of potential that was squandered. In my opinion.

The first major problem I have with Caithe’s story is simply the fact that the first and only wlw relationship we’re shown in game for a long time (I think 2 years? no canon major wlw relationships until the end of Season 1) is abusive. While I know Caithe as a character is great way for a lot of wlw to project and relate, it’s still not a great start.

That said, it’s because of this past abusive relationship that we get the base of Caithe’s character and the potential for growth. Caithe closes herself off from everyone and clearly has depression that’s affecting her worldview. Relationships only end in pain, friendships will get you hurt. Combine this with the secret (the Sylvari origin) she’s carrying that alienates her from her own kind and you’ve got the makings of a really dark backstory that gives plenty of potential for a story of “no matter what you’ve been through, you can learn to be happy again.”

In my opinion her involvement in the personal story is....eh. It matches the rest of the writing there. A bit flat, but overall fine with a note of hope at the end that’s pleasant. The Commander is there to bring hope to the hopeless and to beat dragon minions with their favorite stick.

Skipping to season 2, I personally think this is the only truly good season of writing for Caithe. Albeit her involvement is a bit sparse (that’s the problem with trying to juggle so many characters.) but the moments she does get are good.  Caithe’s betrayal of the Commander by stealing the egg was honestly one of my favorite moments of her writing. I was genuinely upset with her.

But this leads us to more insight into how terrible Caithe’s relationship with Faolain was and just how devoted Caithe can be to those she loves as well as how abusers can use their power to make their victims do things they would normally never do. I mean Caithe helped Faolain slaughter an entire village of peaceful centaurs (never mind the incredibly racist Native American stereotypes behind the centaurs and the fact that the tribe was killed by British coded people...that’s a different analysis for a different time). It reveals just how truly heavy Caithe’s burden is while also giving us a sense of terror and realization of how fucked things are.

And then she abandons us to fight the Shadow of the Dragon all by ourselves (a particularly hurtful callback to a Sylvari commander).

In Heart of Thorns her writing is...up and down. Finally finding her and having the egg choose us over her is...a moment I’m conflicted on. Yet another moment of the Commander overshadowing her. But it also gives her more justification to close herself off further.

I would have liked more emotional talk from Caithe to vinetooth Faolain, but I understand why they didn’t do that. Caithe is, at the end of the day, extremely goal oriented. Worrying about her feelings while Mordremoth still lives is simply not something she can do.

Season 3 marks the starts of my real problems with Caithe and her writing. The base game through HoT sets us up with the understanding that Caithe has a one track mind. Whatever her current goal is, that’s the only thing she sees. Blinders on, all there is forward. It’s a good character trait that can be both a good quality and a serious flaw.

But the thing anet seems to forget is that once the blinders come off, Caithe can see the mess around her. 

Her eldest brother is dead, as well as her friend and her ex lover. And at least part of it was her own doing. Not only did Caithe steal the egg and constantly distract the Commander from their goal of saving Dragon’s Watch and Trahearne, but Caithe knew that the Sylvari were Mordremoth’s minions and told nobody. Imagine if Caithe had revealed this to Trahearne. Imagine if the Pact had been more cautious entering the fray, uncertain what may happen when the Sylvari get close to the dragon that should be controlling them. Things could have been wildly different.

Instead there is no reflection. There’s no moment where you find Caithe just outside of Eir’s place, grieving and trying to process all her emotions. There’s no chance for the Commander to truly be upset with Caithe.

I certainly don’t count the forgiveness Caithe tried to force out of us in the middle of battle as proper anger or emotional processing for either of them. Why can’t I be mad that Caithe didn’t tell anybody the truth? Why can’t Caithe have a moment where she finally talks about her present emotions and has personal growth? Why must her character be so stagnant?

She literally ends her scene with a moment of self pity, proving she’s learned nothing this entire time.

I have no problems with her part in the egg chamber. Aurene is her new Wyld Hunt and she wants to prove to the Commander that she wants to help. Even if the Commander knows better than to trust her anymore.

And now we have to hop allllll the way to season 4 episode 4 to talk about Caithe again. Cause apparently Anet isn’t sexist for not including their women characters, but fans are sexist for not liking them.

Caithe appears at the end of A Star to Guide Us, revealing with a comment that she’s been around for a lot longer than she’s given on but didn’t feel compelled to help us or defend/comfort Aurene. In fact, she has yet another moment of self pity. Telling us that she felt like Aurene didn’t need her anymore cause she flew to Elona to try and save us from death instead of sitting in the egg chamber with Caithe. Cause that’s what I want from the adoptive mother of my child (who’s Wyld Hunt is literally to protect said child), abandonment at the first sign of independence. Not bothering to help save said child from death but then looking for pity and sympathy from the parent who literally died for Aurene.

All or Nothing has one moment that bothers me in particular regarding Caithe. Her branding. While I don’t see anything wrong with the act itself, it was honestly quite touching, I think it was handled poorly and completely erases the Commander’s connection to Aurene. The Commander has had a link to Aurene since she was an egg. That’s YEARS for the bond to grow between them. In A Bug In The System Aurene literally lets us see through her eyes. In Season 3 she’s shown to be following us around while we save the day. There’s an entire mastery line dedicated to our bond with her.

But instead Caithe gets everything. The psychic bond, the new look, all of the story attention. She’s even shown to be one of the only one who cares about Aurene’s feelings (Taimi being the other) even above the Commander.

And the whole reason they do this is so they can finally move Caithe’s character along. Because she’s never once in the writing allowed to grow or learn from her experience. The only way Caithe is allowed to have a happy ending is if someone else fixes her problems and fills the pain up with purpose once again.

That isn’t good writing.

Caithe never once in her entire story arc grows on her own. She’s never allowed to get better or to see more to life unless it’s handed to her on a crystal platter.

Does this mean that I hate her? No. Does it mean that I dislike her writing? Oh yeah. Caithe is repeatedly forced back into her personality from the base game and not allowed to develop in any way unless someone else makes her. That’s infuriating. Where is my story about someone leaving an abusive relationship, trying to make up for the mistakes they made when they were younger, and learning to find happiness in the people around her on the way?

I see why people love her. I see why wlw care about her so much. But to say that her writing is perfect is a lie and shows that you’re projecting your own fanon onto her to fill in the gaps.

You can still love a character while admitting the flaws both in them and their writing.

[technicallyarevenant]

I don’t know what’s worse: Drowning beneath the waves or dying of thirst

Title: I don’t know what’s worse: Drowning beneath the waves or dying of thirst

Characters: Jason Todd, Mentioned Alfred Pennyworth, Mentioned Dick Grayson, Mentioned Bruce Wayne

Other tags: Flashbacks, PTSD, Suicidal thoughts

TW: Suicidal thoughts

Words: 1490

Part 1 of 2

It had been a week now since Jason had become swiss cheese, and Jason really wanted to leave. He had woken up to Alfred, and Jason’s not sure if Bruce knows of Jason's weakness for Alfred, but either way, a single look from Alfred quelled anything that might have come out of his mouth. That doesn’t, however, change the fact that Jason didn't want to be this close to Bruce for any longer. Or Dick. Or anyone else Bruce had decided to adopt. Jason had never liked staying in one place for long, and that had increased tenfold when Jason became The Red Hood. He’s going to make a break for it when Alfred finally leaves his side for more than two minutes. But that will still take some time, because Alfred is Alfred, and trying to keep a secret from him is impossible, especially if he gives you the look. As soon as Alfred gives you the look, you're bound to spill every single secret you foolishly thought you could keep from him. Alfred, however, will usually keep the secret to himself as long as it isn't going to cause anyone, including yourself, harm.

Alfred. Jason had always loved Alfred when he was younger, and he still does. The difference now between his younger self and current self, is that he doesn't think he's worthy of Alfred's love anymore. Something that is part of the reason why he wants to leave the mansion so badly, that and what he’d already previously stated. Jason's also not really sure why Bruce hasn't already kicked him out, and the only reason Jason can really think of at the moment, is because of Alfred, but Jason's really not sure, because how could Alfred still love him? After everything that Jason has done, how could Alfred even take care of him while he's injured instead of just letting him die like he deserves? How could he possibly be worth it at this point? If he thinks about it, Alfred is probably just looking over him while he heals because of some strange obligation to make sure that Jason doesn’t die. Maybe Alfred still feels guilty over not being able to help Jason in Ethiopia, or maybe Alfred is just a good person and doesn’t want to see anyone die. Even a monster like Jason. Although, at this point, Jason wouldn’t mind if Alfred would just let him die. But Alfred won’t let him. Dick won’t let him, and surprisingly, Bruce won’t let him. Jason can’t really remember what happened after he passed out, or anything that happened when he first got to the manor. Not that it matters, but Jason assumes that’s when all the important conversations took place, and Jason likes being in the know. Besides, Jason doubts that any of them would tell him what was said while Jason was unconscious, even if he asked nicely. Which he wouldn't.

With that in mind, Jason hefted himself up into a sitting position, groaning slightly at the tugging sensation from the stitches in his chest, Alfred had been gone for more than half an hour, so Jason assumed it was safe to leave. It wasn’t as if Jason hadn’t had worse, but it also never felt good when you got shot in the chest. Especially if you were shot multiple times. Jason looked around, trying to decide if trying walk around right now without anyone nearby would be a good idea. He hadn’t really walked around for the past week and Jason wasn’t really sure if his legs could handle walking around without any support. Jason gripped the metal rails on the bed, Alfred had been too worried about tearing his stitches, causing him to lose more blood than he already had, so they had kept him in the cave in the medical ward. Not that Jason minded, actually going into the manor, for the first time in years, would probably not be good for Jason’s mental health. Something that was already very bad. And yes, Jason would be the first to admit that he didn’t have good mental health, albeit not out loud. And especially not in the cave. Jason doesn’t doubt that there’s a shitton of bugs hidden around, making sure that Jason doesn’t somehow do something against Bruce’s code.

Really, at this point, it doesn’t surprise Jason that Bruce trusts Jason about as much as he trusts the other loonies that he throws in Arkham. It shouldn’t hurt, it shouldn’t, but it does, and to Jason that’s the worst part. That he knows he’s done more than enough to gain Bruce’s distrust, that he’s continually shown Bruce that trusting him doesn’t end well for anyone involved, including Jason, and yet...it still sends a shooting pain into his heart. The same shooting pain he felt when he was 15, angry at Bruce for not believing him about Garzonas, for not trusting him, and for telling him what to do, causing him to run away, and get beaten nearly to death by the Joker and subsequently blown up. Jason should be used to it, but he isn’t.

Jason’s grip on the metal bars tighten for a moment, and he grits his teeth, he needs to stop dwelling on things that don’t matter. Things that haven’t mattered in a long time. Gaining Bruce’s trust back isn’t realistic, nor is it an option. Not anymore. Even if Jason tried, and he doubts that Bruce would even let him try, Bruce would probably do the Batman equivalent of laughing in someones face, and tell Jason that he’d never trust him, not after everything that Jason has done. So Jason loosens his grip on the bars once again, and lifts himself up from the bed, trying to keep his legs steady and not fall on the ground and alert Alfred. Jason ends up gritting his teeth again as he tries to ignore the fact that his chest is slowly starting to feel like it’s on fire, because he’s not sure when the last time he got a dose of the good stuff, and he burns through it quicker than the others because of his dip into the pit of immortality goo that makes you go crazy. He stumbles slightly, his legs trying to adjust to supporting Jason’s weight again. He hisses slightly when the stumble causes the stitches in his chest to tug again, and god Jason hopes they didn’t rip, he didn’t want to deal with stitching himself back up again when he got back to one of his safe houses.

Jason stands still for a moment after he gets himself completely upright, fighting off the dizziness of standing up suddenly after having been laying down for so long. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling, but, again, Jason had, had worse before. He exhaled through his nose before stumbling over to his shoes. As much as Jason would like to leave right this moment, walking through Gotham without shoes on was pretty much asking for some sort of STD for stepping on someone's thrown out heroin needle. Jason tried his best to tie them once he finally tugged them on, but gave up after his fingers refused to work properly for him. He settled for leaving them untied and continued to stagger around and gather his stuff, pulling on his jacket once he found it. It was freezing in the cave, and Jason refused to be cold with this many wounds in his chest. Jason hated the cold. And he hated the heat. The cold reminded him of waking up in a box, clawing his way out and feeling the blinding cold that rained down upon him as the Gotham sky weeped for its fallen prince of Gotham. The heat reminded him of Ethiopia, of the blast that scorched his skin and left him dead, the same blast that made sure that Jason would never be with his family again, that nothing would ever be the same. It reminded him of the Joker, the man who beat him with a crowbar. The man who asked him “What hurts more? A? Or B? Forehand? Or backhand?”. The man who should be dead.

Jason had collected all of his shit, or, most of it at least. He wasn’t sure where his guns were, but he didn’t feel like looking for them. It was fine, he had more than enough, losing two wouldn’t affect him, it was just annoying. He looked back once more, making sure that there wasn’t anything that was obviously his lying about and started to head towards the exit for the cave, hopefully he could make it far enough, or Bruce wouldn’t care enough, so that nobody would catch him. Jason is in no shape to make some sort of great escape, so he just settles with stumbling out of the cave and beginning the long, long walk back to one of his safe houses.

[unfortunate-stranger-losers]

Six Baudelaires AU, Part One {AO3} {Read from the Beginning}

Chapter Eighteen → in which the Baudelaires break into a safe

Nick leaned against the window, and said, “Do you think if we pushed too hard on this, it’d break and we’d fall?”

“I think Aunt Josephine’s getting to you.” Lilac said, passing Sunny a piece of paper to gnaw on.

“No,” Nick said, “I just think it’d be fun to freefall.”

“Don’t do that.” Klaus said. “You’ll die very quickly.”

“But it’d be fun death.”

“Nick.”

The Baudelaire children had settled in during the last few days, but it was a bit hard for them to be very happy. They would have cold drinks and uncooked food for every meal, and whenever Josephine spent time with them, she didn’t talk about their parents or anything they’d like to hear; instead, she tried to teach them grammar lessons. Nick would sometimes pretend to use the bathroom while Josephine was teaching, only to hide in their room, climb into a hammock, and fold paper airplanes out of sheets of paper he’d rip from encyclopedias when nobody was looking.

Violet spent most of her free time breaking apart the rattles, and Lilac took apart the model train set, and the two sisters would keep their hair tied up in hopes of thinking of a better burglar alarm, or a way to cook food that wouldn’t scare Aunt Josephine. Klaus eventually got bored of the grammar books, and he was dismayed to find that the only non-grammatical book that Aunt Josephine didn’t have put away somewhere was Anna Karenina, which he’d already read twice. Solitude spent most of her time finding a new room to hide in, as she’d seemed to tire of Nick never letting her out of his sight, but she felt very bad about this; whenever they found her, she’d look very guilty, and she’d apologize for worrying them. Sunny alternated between playing with her deck of cards, trying to teach Solitude how to play, or biting onto anything she could reach, but she really wished she had something better to do with her time.

“When’s ol’ Aunt Jo getting back again?” Nick asked, standing up and stretching slightly.

“Shouldn’t be too long.” Lilac said, passing Sunny another piece of paper, as Sunny had accidentally eaten her first. “She said she was just getting groceries.”

“She should’ve let us come with her.” Violet said; she and Klaus were curled up in the same chair, with her struggling to get through Anna Karenina, and Klaus falling asleep on her shoulder, having given up on his grammar book.

“Help.” Solitude nodded; she had wandered out of the room a while ago, only to come back in to see if she could spot anything under the shelves.

“Soli’s right, we could’ve helped.” Nick said. “Beats hanging around here.”

“She said she’d be scared to lose us in a crowd.” Lilac sighed. “There are a lot of us, and let’s be honest, Nick, you and Solitude tend to wander.”

“Speaking of which, whatcha looking for, Sol?” Nick asked.

Solitude giggled awkwardly before shrugging and continuing to crawl across the floor. Sunny slid off her chair, also crawling around the ground, looking under the shelves; it was better than being bored and eating paper.

“I haven’t seen that Eye in her house.” Nick said. “Klaus, have you seen it anywhere?”

Klaus opened one eye to glare at him. “Nope.” he said. “And before you ask, yes, I still have the spyglass on me.”

“I wonder what kinds of codes our parents used to come up with with Aunt Josephine,” Violet said. “And if she has them written down somewhere. It’d be more interesting than this.”

“Anna Karenina’s a classic, Vi.” Klaus said.

“And you weren’t being grammatically correct.” Nick joked. “You used ‘with’ twice in a row.”

“Bite me.” Violet said, flipping him off.

“Violet!” Lilac reprimanded. “Look, everyone, I know living here isn’t… great… but it’s better than living with Olaf, or being in Peru with him.”

“Perch,” Sunny said, which meant something like, “Or being trapped in a birdcage.”

“See?” Lilac said.

“But that doesn’t make it good.” Nick said. “Just cause it’s not awful doesn’t mean we should-”

“We should be thankful Aunt Josephine gave us a home at all.” Lilac said.

“Oh, yeah, we should be thankful that Fierce Auntie Jo didn’t let Poe send us somewhere else.”

“Stop calling her that!”

“You started it!”

“When I was a toddler!”

“Hey!” Solitude shouted.

“Stop fighting.” Klaus groaned. “You’re being loud.”

“And fighting won’t solve anything.” Violet said. “Maybe we can find where Aunt Josephine is hiding the books she’s scared of.”

“I’ve looked in all the other rooms.” Nick said. “Haven’t found anything.”

“Maybe they’re just hidden very well.” Lilac said.

Klaus sat up slightly. “I mean, she did say ‘secret codes.’ Maybe she has a secret compartment.”

“Secret room?” Violet suggested. “I’d love a secret room.”

“Yes,” Lilac sighed, “And you tell us that whenever you have the chance.”

“Well, I just-”

At that moment, Sunny let out a shriek, and they all whipped around to stare at her. Sunny had just leapt away from the bookshelves and fallen on her back, shocked, and after a second, a small brown-green frog with a black mask pattern hopped out from underneath the shelves, racing across the room at top speed.

“What the hell?” Lilac shouted.

“Holy shit!” Violet said, as Klaus jumped to his feet and ran to pick up Sunny.

“Froggy!” Solitude called, running forwards, and the frog changed direction, heading towards her. It finally reached her, and leapt onto her shoulder. “Froggy! I’s okay!”

The other five Baudelaires stared at her for a good, long while, until she finally looked up at them. Then, quietly, Lilac said, “Solitude?”

“Ye?”

“Is that a frog?”

Solitude’s face went as red as her hair. “No.”

“Solitude?” Nick crept a bit closer to her. “Is that Babbitt?”

“No.”

“Solitude,” Violet said, “That is clearly Babbitt.”

“When the hell,” Klaus said, “Did you get Babbitt back?”

Soli put a hand on the frog, which was snuggling up against the collar of her dress. “Um…”

“How long have you had that?” Lilac asked.

Solitude sighed. “Repro,” she admitted, which meant, “I’ve had them we left Uncle Monty’s.”

“Them? Is there more than one?” Lilac asked.

“Callis-” Solitude glared at her. “No, just Babbitt, but their species of frog is genderfluid, so-”

“You’ve been hiding that frog since Uncle Monty’s?” Nick asked.

“Tep!” Solitude cried. “They were hiding in the Reptile Room right before we left, and I couldn’t let those men take them away!”

“What have you been feeding them?” Violet asked.

“Bugs!”

“Have you been hiding them for this whole time?” Klaus asked.

Solitude nodded, tears springing to her eyes as she asked, “Giveaway?” “Are you going to make me give them up?”

The siblings glanced at each other, and finally, Lilac said, “You can’t show them to Aunt Josephine. They’ll probably scare her.”

Solitude beamed, laughing and flapping her hands.

“And you’re in charge of them.” Lilac said. “Feeding and cleaning up after and- and catching them!”

Babbitt leapt off of Solitude’s shoulder, hopping to a far shelf, trying to go under it. Solitude ran after them, calling, “Babbitt! Babbitt!”

She managed to dive and grab the frog before they got under the shelf, but as she did, Klaus said, “Wait a minute.”

He walked over to stand by Soli, after putting Sunny back down onto a chair. He stood by the shelf Babbitt had run to, inspecting it closely.

“This shelf is indented behind the others.” he noted.

“Yeah. Probably a weird design choice.” Nick shrugged.

Klaus ignored him, instead grabbing the edge of the shelf and pulling. The siblings stared in wonder as part of the shelf retracted, revealing a wall, with a shiny safe built into it.

“Secret room!” Violet cheered.

“Secret safe.” Lilac corrected.

“Good Babbitt!” Solitude cheered.

“Nice work, Klaus.” Nick said, moving over and kneeling in front of the safe. Solitude walked over to sit beside him, petting her frog.

“Well, it wasn’t that hard.” Klaus said modestly.

“We’ll have to break in.” Violet said. “I can make a blowtorch-”

“You are not making a blowtorch.” Lilac said.

“Coward.”

“We can guess the combination.” Nick said.

“Well,” Klaus said, “Most safes use three or four-number locks. There are one-million possible combinations.”

“We don’t have that kind of time, I don’t think.” Nick said.

“Codes.” Sunny suggested.

“Sunny’s right.” Lilac said. “Aunt Josephine said our parents developed secret codes. In some codes, numbers substitute for letters.”

“If it’s a word, it’d have to be something she’d remember, something she cares about.” Violet said.

“Grammar.” Solitude said.

“That’s too many letters.” Klaus said. “We’d need something that isn’t very long.”

“What else does she care about?” Lilac prompted.

“Cold food.” Nick said.

“Doorbell and telephone safety.” Violet said.

“Not telling us anything we actually want to know.” Klaus said.

“Scripto,” Solitude huffed, petting Babbitt, “Not actually paying attention to things we like.”

“None of you are any help.” Lilac sighed.

“Ike!” Sunny said.

They stared at her for a beat, and then Violet said, “That’s three letters long.”

“Good idea, Sunshine.” Lilac said, and they all knelt in front of the safe as Nick put in 9-11-5. They heard a small click, and Nick swung open the safe door.

“Whoo!” Nick cheered. “We’re in!”

“What is all of this?” Violet said, reaching forwards and grabbing a box, decorated with a painting of Lake Lachrymose. She opened it, saying, “Crackers.”

“Yahua.” Sunny said. “Safe crackers.”

“There’s some sheet music.” Lilac said.

“Ike’s whistling music.” Violet said, pulling out the papers.

“An Atlas of Lake Lachrymose.” Klaus pointed out.

“Here’s some photos.” Nick said, pulling out one. “Holy shit, is this Aunt Josephine?”

“Language.” Lilac said, peering over his shoulder. “I think it is.”

“Is she training lions?” Violet asked.

“She’s fistfighting a shark in this one.” Klaus said.

“Roh.” Solitude said, also taking a photo to show Babbitt. “Wrestling.”

“Boxing, Skydiving…” Klaus said, flipping through photos. “Who jumps out of a plane for fun?”

“I totally would.” Nick said.

“She did use to be fierce.” Lilac said quietly.

“What happened to her?” Violet asked.

“Hold on.” Nick said. “Hold on, there’s a book.”

Klaus reached in, pulling out a thick book, emblazoned with the title The Incomplete History of Secret Organizations.

“Well, that’s convenient.” Nick said.

“Secret Organizations?” Violet asked.

“I guess secret codes lead to secret organizations.” Klaus said.

“Our parents can’t be in a secret organization.” Nick said. “They’re not cool enough.”

“Maybe they’re not. Maybe Josephine has this for some other reason.” Klaus said.

“Maybe we should fucking read it and see.” Violet said.

At that, they heard a door open, and a call of, “Be careful with the welcome mat! You could trip and break your neck!”

“Shit. Goddamnit. Fuck.” Nick said, as Klaus and Violet hurriedly shoved everything back into the safe. Solitude squeaked and shoved Babbitt into her pocket, muttering to him to stay there, and then Nick picked her up and carried her over to a chair, sitting down with her and grabbing a random book.

“Nick, I am going to glue your mouth shut!” Lilac yelled, grabbing Sunny and carrying her back to the table, now containing several scraps of half-eaten paper.

Klaus slid the bookshelf over the safe again, and Violet grabbed a random grammar book, before flopping onto the carpet, opening it up to a random spot and hoping nobody noticed it was upside-down. Klaus ran for where Violet left Anna Karenina, flipping it open and getting onto his chair just as Aunt Josephine walked in.

“Ah, Baudelaires! There you are!” she said. “I just put the groceries into the kitchen.”

“Would you like us to cook for you?” Lilac asked, shoving a paper at Sunny’s face.

“Oh, no! Don’t use the stove!”

“We won’t-”

“But I suppose it wouldn’t matter.” Josephine said.  She sat in a chair, and said, “Children, I found something interesting at the town market!”

“Warm food?” Nick asked.

“Nick,” Lilac hissed, “I am going to kill you.”

“Lilac, dear,” Josephine said, “Don’t worry about your brother. I’m aware that I’m a disappointment to you, and to countless others. Believe it or not, I used to be a fierce and formidable woman. But these are… troubling times.”

“I guess.” Violet said.

“There are fires and dangers all around us.” Josephine said. “But… I’ve decided I shouldn’t allow myself to be afraid of everything anymore.”

“Good.” Nick said, and Lilac shot him a glare so fierce he actually shrunk back.

“So, children,” Josephine said, “May I leave you alone for a few more hours? I came home to get a new cardigan, and then he’s taking me out to dinner.”

The children froze in shock for a moment, before Klaus said, “What?”

“I met a man!” Josephine said. “He has had a troubled past, and he asked to treat me to a fried egg sandwich.”

Violet said, “You’re going on a date?”

“Violet, don’t be vulgar.” Josephine said. “It’s not a date, necessarily. But please be nice to him while I get my cardigan, make small talk. Oh, Captain! Captain Sham!”

The siblings heard a distant, “I’m hobbling as fast as I can, Josephine!” and suddenly they all felt very cold. Nick pushed Solitude behind him, and Lilac jumped to her feet, moving in front of Sunny. Violet and Klaus also stood, just as Captain Sham walked into the room.

“Goddamnit.” Nick muttered under his breath.

Aunt Josephine was going on a date with Count Olaf.

[that-he-may-return-blog]

Episode 2: Slugbug

Unfortunately, none of Dipper's questions for the triangle were answered. This was probably due to the fact that Dipper didn't see said triangle for several days, which led his mind to uneasy conclusions- had Bill escaped? Was he back in Gravity Falls and terrorizing everyone? Was he dead? Was Dipper possessed and he just didn't know it-

It also didn't help that Dipper had been having the exact same “dream” every night since the All-Mart incident. He was hesitant to call it an actual dream, sans quotation marks, because nothing really happened- he just found himself in a coniferous forest, alone, for hours on end until he woke up. The entire experience led Dipper to wonder if he was slowly losing his mind. The only proof he had that the All-Mart attack had ever happened was a headline reporting the “Largest Shoplifting Heist of the Century”, listing a number of objects that mysteriously vanished into thin air on September fourteenth.

Of course, nobody knew what had actually happened except Dipper… until now.

“-and that's why everything up and vanished the same day we were there,” he explained. “They literally…” he extended his arm, “walked out.”

Mabel blinked. “So Bill is…”

“I don't know where,” Dipper admitted. “And not knowing is killing me because what if he's murdering people back in Gravity Falls-”

“Oh, he's not,” Mabel said confidently.

“How would you know?”

“I have my ways.” Mabel held up her phone. “Also Candy and Grenda and me made a pact to keep each other updated on the Gravity Falls-Piedmont life 24/7, down to the exact detail, no questions asked. I just typed out your whole Bill monologue and-”

“-don’t send that!” Dipper grabbed the phone, “Mabel, are you crazy?”

“Am I crazy?” Mabel pointed a finger at him. “You're the one that made a deal with a resurrected demon that tried to kill us all.”

“I didn't have a choice-” Dipper said quickly, deleting the message. “Grunkle Ford was counting on me to take care of this because any other option would’ve resulted in an essential perpetual death for at least one person or a literal death for the entire universe!”

“Okay, Mister Let’s-Save-the-Universe over here. Don’t forget that I helped too!”

“Technically neither of u-”

Mabel reached forward and put her finger over his mouth. “Shh...” Dipper scowled. “I understand that you've got that whole conspiracy craving and would probably explode if you couldn’t explain why bigfoot is cthulhu- because I am a caring and loving sister- but… really, Dipper, are you sure this is a good idea?”

Dipper glanced up. “...I don't think there's a better idea,” he said slowly. “But there's nothing I can do about it now- Stan and Ford are probably in the middle of the ocean, and if I went back to Gravity Falls, Bill could probably find his body and start using magic again-”

“Again? I thought you said that in the store he waved his arms wildly and turned a bunch of eggs against you? Using magic?”

Dipper glanced at the wall. “Okay, so, I don't know how it works. Entirely.”

“At all.” Mabel took her phone back.

Dipper rubbed his arm. “Just- I thought I should tell you. Everyone kept too many secrets in Gravity Falls, so the more that's out in the open, the better, at this point.”

Mabel blinked. “Does that mean we should tell Mom and Dad?”

“Uhhh- no. Not… not right now. They'd freak out.”

“This sounds like the premise for an American children’s cartoon!” Mabel grinned, “Mason Pines came home from summer break with a lot of strange souvenirs, but the strangest one is a triangle with a bizarre sense of humor and great fashion sense-”

“That sounds like a show that would try and make Bill likable,” Dipper pointed out. “Too out of character.”

“ATTENTION: THIS IS THE LAST HELICOPTER OUT OF VIETNAM! GET ON BOARD OR REMAIN STRANDED!”

“COMING, DAD!!” Mabel shouted back, grabbing her backpack. Dipper got up and slung his over his shoulder, brushing his hair over his forehead- he wasn't about to take Wendy's hat into a public school, one of the most hazardous places for any material object. Besides, hats were technically against the dress code - not that he had cared in previous years - but hey, at least this was a decent excuse.

The twins headed downstairs to find the house empty save for Waddles, who was napping on the couch, and a note from their mother on the table saying that she would be back in the afternoon; she was probably hanging upside down from a redwood, trying to photograph of a colony of bats. They grabbed their lunchboxes as they darted for the door, Mabel taking a second to slip in a previously-vetoed bottle of Mabeljuice. Outside was the second car, fondly nicknamed The Bug by Mabel, and in the driver's seat was their dad.

Forrest Pines was roughly the height of a flagpole and had nearly the same dimensions, which meant that compressing himself into The Bug involved a lot of doubling over. Dipper would have sworn on his life that his father didn't wear anything but sweater-vests and only combed the back of his hair. Mabel would have sworn on her life that Forrest was an alien from planet Cybernoodle who planned on taking over the earth by hacking RCVs everywhere.

“Who's ready for school?” Forrest called as Mabel hopped over the typical suburban lawn flamingo and into the car; Dipper chose to walk around the flamingo. The flamingo had been Forrest’s idea, and Cassidy had never acknowledged its existence.

“Ready for KNOWLEDGE!” Mabel shouted, slamming the door.

Dipper glanced at her. “Knowledge?”

“Yeah, genius- of the new kids- new kids, new friends, am I right or am I right-”

“You're left,” Forrest pointed out. The Bug pulled onto the road and set a course for Piedmont Public Schools.

Dipper glanced out the window. He couldn't shake the nagging feeling that Bill was too close for comfort- even though he was nowhere to be seen. What that meant, he didn't know, but he didn't like the weight it left on his mind.

After a few minutes of dissonance with Mabel, Forrest, and the radio, The Bug rolled to a stop in front of the school- the twins wasted no time gathering their stuff and getting out of the car.

Forrest leaned out the window. “What, no “first day of high school” trauma? No existential dread or questions about moving up the social rank?”

“We kinda sorta already had that kerfluffle over the summer,” Mabel said. “Ha. Kerfluffle.”

“We’ll be fine, Dad,” Dipper told him.

Forrest frowned. “Hey, you're not wearing a hat today.”

Oh no- he was going to ask about the lucky hat Dipper had had at the beginning of the year- the one that had met its premature demise to a pack of angry gnomes. Dipper braced himself. “Well-”

“Good for you,” Forrest said. Dipper blinked. “We call that character development.” He patted Dipper on the head.

“Aha, right…”

“Well, don't murder anyone! Bye kids!”

“Bye-”

“Bye Dad!”

The Bug sped off into the distance, leaving two eighth graders on a yet-to-be trampled public school lawn.

Dipper didn't necessarily enjoy school. Not that he didn't enjoy learning; gaining knowledge was how he built up his collection of conspiracies. But Dipper could have written an eight-page essay on why the school system did a very poor job of actually teaching anything. He also could have written an essay on the lack of supervision in the classroom or work ethic from the staff, or how being expected to socialize with people he would never see outside of school was counterintuitive- but these weren't the biggest reasons Dipper disliked the school experience. No, that award went to the spiked levels of sheer acrimony that hung around the school like a forced metaphor.

Yeah, okay, maybe the bullied nerd trope was overdone. That didn't change the fact that Dipper was, in fact, a bullied nerd. This year he planned to change that- the honors/regular class split started this year. With any luck, he'd leave the aggressors of the past behind and start a brand new year of education and-

-someone tripped him.

Because that wasn't cliche.

Dipper stumbled to regain his balance and half the pile of books he was holding slid onto the floor. His face was red- he couldn't tell if anyone was laughing, but it definitely felt like it. He crouched and picked up the books; off to a great start.

“Didn't see you all summer, Dipstick!” someone shouted. Dipper closed his eyes. “Did you run away to cry somewhere else-”

Dipper kept walking. That was one time- well, maybe several. He'd been perfectly fine over summer- maybe because he had gotten the chance to make his own impression. But everyone here already knew him as the kid with the dumb name, no friends, and who was prone to crying. His legacy.

The honors/regular split had also led to an unexpected consequence; he no longer shared any classes with Mabel, who preferred talking with friends rather than studying with them. Since Forrest had dropped them off, in fact, he didn't really see her at all. This meant the majority of his day was spent either being ignored and alone or having to listen to “dipstick” get shouted across the room, which by now wasn't insulting so much as annoying. The reality was setting in that, without Mabel around, they wouldn’t be watching each other’s backs. This could end up being the worst school year of his life.

He really should've taken Ford's offer, Dipper thought as he scribbled in the margins of the first-day handouts. At least then he'd be spending his day doing something he actually cared about with someone he actually looked up to- it would've been better than coming back to this mess. And now all he had to show for his poor decision was a missing demon and a sister who caused the apocalypse.

“...what?”

“Pines, is there something you'd like to add?”

Dipper blinked. “No, I'm just-”

“Then I suggest you join the rest of the class in sitting in silence.”

Dipper sank down in his seat. Mabel didn't have anything to do with Weirdmageddon… unless you counted getting locked in a prison bubble. And you know, making a selfish deal trading something that wasn't even hers for her own personal gain.

Dipper focused in on the desk. Okay, where was this coming from- he wasn't supposed to be an idiot, you’d think he could put this together. He pressed a hand to his head. Was he hallucinating? Was he so tired from those repetitive dreams that he was starting to imagine things? Maybe he needed a break- from the planet-

“Bill-”

It was nice to know he could do basic logic. Dipper gripped the edge of his desk. Where was he- why was his train of thought being constantly interrupted like this- as if he would tell him-

“Shut up-!”

“Pines.”

Dipper sank down. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“Would you like to step outside for a little bit to calm down?”

No. “Yes.”

Dipper slipped into the hall and shut the door behind himself. He pressed his hands to his temples, trying to think. Bill had to be messing around in his head, somehow… Dipper shuddered, imagining Bill puppeting him from the inside. He wasn't actually… well Dipper wouldn't know that. Dipper glared at the wall.

“Get out.”

He wasn't going to. Well, at least that answered that question. Dipper rubbed his head… what would he even be doing in there? Not like Dipper would know. But carrying a demon’s thoughts in his head didn't seem like a fantastic option, especially when he had no idea how to get him out…

“Hey Dipstick. Where’ve you been, huh?”

In any other context, it might have been a friendly greeting. Not in this one.

Florence Goodman had to be the worst misnomer of the century. Dipper had only ever actually seen him in class twice in his life, leading him to assume that he spent his spare time throwing darts at pictures of other students’ faces. Florence also seemed to think his insults were hilarious; this was probably a direct result of beating up anyone who disagreed, although Dipper wasn't sure he'd get the whole cause/effect relationship. Another reason he had never explained it was that Florence just so happened to be twice his size and nowhere near as terrified of detention as Dipper was.

“I said, where’ve you been?”

Dipper looked away.

“What are you doing out in the halls?” This guy really needed to learn to respect personal space. “I would've thought the teacher's pet would be teaching the class by now-”

“Aren't you supposed to be in class,” Dipper muttered, “and not hanging around like a-”

“Like a what, Pines?!” Dipper's head knocked against the lockers- he could feel a bruise forming on the back of his skull. Pain was hilarious.

“Nothing, nothing-” he said quickly, but Florence had already moved on.

“Where's your dumb hat, Pines?”

Dipper didn't respond.

“What, did you lose it? Someone get to it before me? Huh-” His palm slammed into Dipper's forehead; Dipper winced. “You should've kept it on- now everyone can see your dumb hair-”

Dipper braced himself for what was sure to follow. It was an old well but a deep one, and every time it just got to him. He felt the fingers shove his hair up, off his forehead-

“-and your mutant face-”

“It's not a mutation, it's a statistical anomaly…” His face was burning- his entire head was burning.

“Little dipstick over here thinks his big words won't make him a freak-” Into the locker again. “Well guess what-” And again. “You'll never be anything but the weirdo with no friends-”

Dipper covered his face. That wasn't true-

“You gonna cry? Cry, Pines- cry about your stupid hair and your freakazoid face- your disproportionately gigantic head and tiny weak body- the stupid rectangle on your forehead-”

Dipper screwed his face up. Until summer, his birthmark had always been a sore spot for him- it had been the target of countless insults. Now that summer had ended, when he had finally started to accept it, it was just going to become another reason to hate him- his head cracked into the lockers again. Always with that stupid constellation birthmark- making him a target- making him “that weirdo-” well it wasn't like he could help it!

“Are those tears, treeboy-”

Dipper grabbed his fingers- they were rubbery and- slimy-? Florence screamed and dropped him onto the ground; Dipper winced and rubbed his head, slowly looking up. Florence was stumbling around like an idiot, waving his arm and screaming.

“Maybe- maybe that'll make you think twice about making fun of me, huh-” Dipper got up. Whatever was going on, it sure was making Florence panic- the problem was, Dipper had no idea what was going on.

Thankfully he found out, as he watched this high school student transform into a gigantic slug with six eyes, a pig nose, and terrifyingly long slimy arms.

The monster roared.

Dipper shouted and threw a pencil at it. The pencil bounced off his lumpy flesh and rolled down the hall.

The two looked at each other for a moment. The slug blinked and stared at its new slimy features. Dipper decided to use this moment to run for it and booked it through the halls. He heard a vaguely roar-like sound from behind him; he figured that turning Florence into a close relative of a snail didn't make him want to kill Dipper any less.

He ducked behind a wall and pressed his back to it, shaking- had he done that- Dipper stared at his hands. They were just as pale and clammy as ever. Maybe it was the fact that he had just run to the other side of the school, but he felt exhausted; there was a stitch in his side and his eyes were starting to close. Dipper shook himself awake. There wasn't time for that- there was a giant slug loose in the school somewhere. It wouldn’t be long before someone saw it.

“Heyyy, what are you doing in the Dumb People section?” Dipper blinked and looked up. Mabel had put a sticker on his nose. “Don't you have some kind of over-complicated class to get to?”

“-there’s something more important going on right now,” Dipper told her, glancing back around the corner. Florence the giant slug couldn’t be far.

“You found something more important than your GPA?” Mabel leaned around the corner to look at whatever he was looking at. “I'm proud of you- you've realized that the true meaning of being a student is learning and having fun by pursuing an interest that you genuinely like-”

“No, Mabel, I turned Florence Goodman into a nine-foot long invertebrate.”

Mabel frowned and raised a finger. She opened her mouth and the finger turned into a finger gun, “Are you making a spontaneous and nonsensical joke-”

Dipper looked at her. Mabel lowered her finger. “Right, okay, giant spineless bully somewhere in the school.” She frowned again. “How did-”

“I don't know,” Dipper admitted, ducking back behind the wall. “I think it had something to do with Bill-”

“THEY SAY THAT IF YOU SAY THE DEVIL’S NAME HE APPEARS!”

Dipper yelped and fell backwards.

Mabel glanced from him to the empty air directly in front of him. “Is he back?”

“Unfortunately…” Dipper muttered.

“Unfortunately?” Bill pressed his hand to what would have been his chest. “Now that stings- after all I've done for you- turning your school bullies into gastropods- I am hurt-”

“You did that-?!”

“Well I'll admit that it was a team effort- somebody here got really mad for no reason at all-”

Dipper glared. “So you just used me as your funnel-”

Mabel raised a hand, “So I'm sure this is a very important argument but all I can hear is Dipper's side- and also maybe we should focus on taking care of the monster before we argue any more?”

“I don't think Bill cares,” Dipper said.

“Oh contraire, spaceface.” Bill pulled his cane out of nowhere. “You're my only vessel, and your fancy contract says my psyche is linked to your body- if you die, I'd be stuck in a little radius around it, and that wouldn't be fun for anyone, would it?”

Dipper looked away. “Mabel, do you have the flashlight?”

Mabel shook her head. “I didn't really unpack everything yet.”

“Right, okay…” Dipper rubbed his forehead, trying to think. The hall was quiet and empty, and he couldn’t see or hear a thing in the corridors, but he knew what was out there. “Well, at least we have time to plan,” he resolved. “He might be big, but slugs are slow. It'll take a while for it to even find us, let alone catch up to us.”

Bill laughed.

Dipper stiffened. “Unless that's not the case…”

“Oh, it is definitely not the case, pine-tree! Remember how turning things on their head is kind of my deal? My schtick? My gimmick? My-”

“You made a super-fast giant slug.”

“Well I wouldn't call it giant, we’re only talking like eight, nine feet long here- giant would be, say, the size of the school- your tiny little mind doesn't have nearly enough energy for that.”

“Well apparently there’s enough to make you a giant pain in the-”

“DIPPER-”

Dipper looked over just in time to see a super-fast, average-sized slug come ricocheting around the corner.

Dipper thought he knew what fear felt like. He had been ripped out of his own body, more than once by now, been chased by gigantic deformed creatures of unimaginable horror, and witnessed the apocalypse firsthand. Yet, somehow, none of these came close to the sheer adrenaline that running from a nine-foot invertebrate at top speed through an empty school hall could bring.

“How do we stop him?!” Mabel asked as they slid around a corner.

“I don't know,” Dipper said- he was panicking. “I only knew things in Gravity Falls because of Great-Uncle Ford’s journal- I don't have that anymore! We threw it down the bottomless pit!”

“Well, actually-”

Dipper looked at Mabel. “Actually-?”

Mabel waved it off. “I'll tell you when we’re not being terrorized by a giant slug.”

Dipper darted up to a door leading out of the school; he tried to stop but his momentum carried him into the bar and out onto the grass. He tumbled forward and faceplanted. Bill laughed.

Dipper shoved himself up- “If you're so concerned about protecting your vessel why don't you help-”

“Oh, I might. If it gets completely hopeless. Right now I just want to watch you squirm.”

Dipper wanted to retaliate, but he didn't get the chance as the monster slammed its head through the door and bowled him over. He scrambled up, now covered in slime, and darted back inside the school; during the day, the doors were locked from the outside. This proved true as the slug rammed into the door over and over, but it didn't open. It also might not have opened because it was a pull door, but Dipper decided not to tell him that.

Dipper slid down against the wall to catch his breath.

“...what do we do when school ends?” Mabel asked, “because he’s still going to be there-”

“I’m trying to get there,” Dipper breathed. He rubbed his forehead and watched the door thud as the slug rammed into it. Bill was busy criticizing a mural of Egypt in the hall.

Mabel sat down next to him. “Maybe we should get to class?”

Dipper snorted. “I'd rather not. At least not right now.” A nine-foot slug. No journal. No hex circle, no flashlight… all he really had was a demon whose current life goal was to ruin Dipper's own life. Bill probably knew how to fix it with magic or something- but it wasn't like he'd help. Dipper might have to take a different approach…

Dipper sat there in quiet contemplation as Mabel doodled and the formerly-human slug pounded on the doors. After a while, the bell rang and students flooded out into the hallways, and to their… lockers? Dipper started and looked at the clock- what?! -this was the end of the school day- and he still had no idea what to do regarding the giant slug- and it was at this moment that the hinges on the door gave way- and in it came.

It was chaos. Everyone scattered, some to run and scream, others to touch it, more to record videos, and the slug to (presumably) murder Dipper. Dipper saw this and decided to join the portion of the student body that was running. Mabel followed suit.

“You know, for someone who made a life-changing self-discovery about courage and standing up for yourself over the summer, you sure are doing a lot of running away today,” Bill commented.

Dipper glared. “I can't just fight it,” he snapped, “and it's not like I have anything that'd help me-” he shoved the front door open and ran out onto the grass.

“Well that's not very fair- I'm right here!”

“You’re the main cause of the problem-!”

“What is it with you people and your blame-games- you turn a couple people into disfigured monsters and suddenly it's all oh he’s evil and you’re a 'problem’-”

There was a loud popping sound, followed by an unappealing squelch- Dipper turned to see that the slug had managed to figure out the push-door. It literally threw the door open and was continuing his chase, barrelling right for Dipper- panicking, he jumped to the side, hoping the monster couldn't turn as quickly as it could run, or crawl, or slink-

The proper term for the movement of a slug was put low on Dipper’s priorities as he watched it crash through the parking lot and disappear among the cars. There was a sound of alarms and honks.

“Well, this seems like a good time to let law enforcement handle the giant slimy thing,” Mabel suggested. While the idea of Florence Goodman being taken away from the school did seem appealing, it was Dipper’s fault that the guy was a slug in the first place.

“Eh, ehh…?” Mabel was ready to go. Dipper took in a breath, then sighed.

“We should do something.”

“But do we?” she groaned. It was very likely that she hated Florence more than he did. Dipper genuinely considered walking away. It’s not like he was obligated to be the bigger person here, but- it was a little overboard to turn him into a lightspeed slug. There was also the fact that the security cameras in the school probably saw him near Florence when it happened, and the last thing he wanted was another run-in with the government.

Being thirteen was hard.

Just as Dipper was about to make his decision he heard a shrill and childish squeal from the far side of the parking lot. Dipper and Mabel exchanged a glance.

“Dad.”

They both made a dash for the east side of the parking lot and found the slug with its head jammed inside the window of The Bug, and Forrest Pines firmly pressed into the back seat, throwing all available objects in its face. So much for leaving their parents out of weirdness- now Dipper definitely had to do something. Mabel was way ahead of him.

“Back off my dad you slimy buttface-” Mabel shouted as she bolted to the car and began beating the slug with her biology book. This took the slug’s attention off of (potentially) eating Forrest- it pulled from the window and went for Mabel next.

“Mabel, get away from that thing-!” Forrest shouted. Dipper pried the slime-coated car door open; Forrest scrambled out and scooped both twins up and out of the way of the monster, backing away. The slug started advancing- Dipper threw a rock at its head and tried his best to give an intimidating and stern glare, but judging from Bill’s snickering it wasn’t working out too well.

Forrest was just about to make a run for it when Mabel slipped out of his hold and ran for The Bug.

“REMEMBER ME!!” Mabel called as she dove past the slug and jumped in the car. The slug spat acid at her as she ran past; it ate away at the ground, burning holes in the asphalt. Forrest nearly had a heart attack as the monster went after his daughter.

“MABEL-”

“Acid?!” Dipper hissed at Bill, who had been casually drifting near his field of view.

“So, I have these ideas, and sometimes they’re just too good to turn down. So, the slug spits acid now. And also has a taste for human flesh.”

“Oh it just gets better every minute, doesn’t it-”

“It really does, isn’t it great?”

Forrest sat Dipper far away from The Bug and ran to grab Mabel.

“Do you think this is funny?!” Dipper glared at Bill.

“Yes, actually.”

“Well it isn’t-” Dipper pointed at the triangle. “You’ve always seen our lives as a game and a joke, but the joke's over, Bill-” Bill wasn’t looking at him. He was experimenting with flames in his right hand. “Are you listening?!”

“No, not really, your interests are relatively insignificant to me.” Dipper was fuming. He had to get his attention, and the only way you get a triangle’s attention is by making him angry or panicked- or maybe even a little bit of both.

Dipper started walking towards the monster slug. “What are you doing, kid?” Bill called. “D’ya think you’re going to take this thing on with those noodle arms?”

“No.”

“Well that’s good because that thing will totally kill you. So, you know, it wouldn’t be that smart to keep just walking towards it like that. So, uh, why are you still walking towards it-”

“You’re going to let my family get killed, then you don’t get a vessel.”

Bill laughed. “As if you’d actually get yourself killed just to get me to do something, that’s ridiculous-”

Dipper kept walking. “Are you really that stupid-” Bill said louder as he was pulled along at the edge of Dipper’s mental barrier. One foot in front of the other, Dipper walked up to the slug and kicked it.

The slug’s acid was just about to eat through the roof of The Bug- Mabel was aggressively searching the backseat and resisting Forrest’s attempts to remove her. The slug twisted its head to look at him. Dipper held his arms out at his sides. “You’re an idiot, kid- you’re going to get yourself killed- this is proving nothing-”

“It’s proving nothing except that you’re out of options.”

“I have plenty of options other than your cruddy vessel-”

The slug made a gurgling noise; acid foamed at its mouth, dripping down at Dipper’s feet, just missing his shoes.

“You’re gonna die, kid-”

It reared up. Dipper didn’t move.

“KID-”

Dipper squeezed his eyes shut- there was a spitting sound-

...but nothing happened. Hesitantly, Dipper opened an eye. He was outside of his own body, and for a moment he thought he might have actually died; then he saw that his own body had thrown up a magical wall in front of itself, like a triangular forcefield. Dipper couldn’t stop himself from grinning.

“I hate you so much,” Bill muttered through gritted teeth as he dropped the wall and the remaining acid fell to the ground. Operation Anger the Triangle was a success. The slug tilted its head in confusion. Bill leapt forwards and knocked the slug back with a punch that clearly had some extra magical energy, because it slid back several feet and embedded itself in the hood of a car.

“Just turn him back-” Dipper said as Bill climbed into The Bug a little unsteadily. Forrest was staring and petrified in the back at this point.

“It’s- give me a second, okay-” Bill wheezed as he struggled to catch his breath, “your stupid noodle of a body could barely take a bit of running last time- you think it can take all that- no! Because some vessels aren’t pure energy-”

Dipper let Bill continue his rant about how weak he was as he watched the slug pry itself from the car and shoot over to The Bug. Bill looked at the slug and glared.

“I have had it up to here with all the things I make trying to kill me-” He slid into the driver’s seat and tried to stay awake. He was about to use another shield to block more flying acid, but something shot through the windshield and straight into the slug’s face.

“GRAPPLING HOOK!” Mabel retracted the hook from the backseat, proudly standing on the seats, one hand on her hip. Forrest was unable to process anything happening around him. Mabel jumped into the passenger’s seat and shot the hook straight into one of the slug’s eyes; it backed up more, blinded.

Bill was slumped over the steering wheel, about to pass out. Mabel shook him. “Hey- hey you can’t fall asleep- mystery twins are back in action-!!” Bill slowly opened his eyes and looked Mabel dead in the face. The sunlight made the slit-pupils obvious.

“Could you, for once, Shooting Star, maybe not scream in my ear... magic is hard enough as it is...” He was too tired to make any witty comments; all he had to spare was pure dismay. Mabel shot the slug in the face again.

“You’ve been doing a bunch of magic, huh-”

“Yes.”

“And Dipper didn’t get enough sleep again I bet-”

“Clearly.”

“But you can fix this with magic??” “Magic fixes most things.”

“Well- then-” Mabel pulled her lunchbox up and offered Bill a mysterious red fruit drink.

“Is this poison?” Bill looked at Mabel. He threw up a shield to block flying acid and looked a little more exhausted.

“No, it’s Mabeljuice!”

“So, poison.”

“It’ll give you a boost- promise-” Bill glared at her. He put up another shield and swayed slightly; a fleck made its way around the shield and burned through his hair. He sighed, steadying himself- Dipper wished he had popcorn. “Eh? Ehh?” Mabel held the Mabeljuice closer. Bill slowly took the glittery drink.

“This doesn’t have anything on Time Punch-” he downed the drink. Mabel shot the hook into the slug’s face again. The slug seemed confused as to how he continued to fall for these attacks.

Bill felt a burst of energy as the caffeine set in. A grin spread across his face- he might be slowly dying of poison, but he was alive again. The slug moved around the other side of The Bug and crashed its head through the window; Bill held his hand out at the slug and it was pushed back by an invisible force. The Bug shook.

“Now what-” Forrest whimpered from the back.

“Now we knock that thing out and finish this-” Bill said, putting his hand on the dash. The Bug began morphing and mutating and Dipper stared as he turned the family car into a huge, metal, eco-friendly winged insect, with six legs instead of four wheels and an apparent taste for slugs.

“WOO!” Mabel cheered as it advanced on the monster. Bill laughed maniacally as The Bug attacked the slug, knocking it down into the pavement- it spat acid at the car, burning holes into pieces of metal legs- but The Bug kept ramming into the slug, shoving it back. It plucked the slug off the ground before it could run away and flew off towards the football field.

Forrest was screaming. “OKAYOKAYOKAYOKAYWHY- WHY IS THIS HAPPENING- KIDS-”

Mabel looked back at Forrest, giving him an encouraging thumbs-up. “Calm down, Dad- we’re professionals-! We’ve got this!”

Forrest just stared. Dipper wasn’t looking forward to explaining this later. The Bug hauled the slug over the football field and higher into the air; it released the slug and it plummeted into the ground, leaving a crater in the grass.

The Bug hovered for a bit and, when the slug didn’t get up, it lowered and landed next to the crater. Mabel hopped out of the car and ran to the crater to peer in the hole, grappling hook at the ready. The dust cleared and, instead of a bloodthirsty lightspeed acid slug, there was just a beat-up Florence Goodman, looking utterly traumatized. Mabel let out a breath and help up a hand to high-five Bill, grinning. “Nice work-”

Bill looked at her. “You really want me touching your hand.”

Mabel lowered her hand.

The caffeine was wearing off fast; Bill used the last bit of energy he had to strip The Bug of its insectoid features. Then he fell face-first into the grass.

When Dipper came back to consciousness in his own body, everything was numb and he didn’t want to move. Mabel was sitting with him in the high school nurse’s station; she seemed a little more excited once he actually looked at her.

“Wh… what happened…?”

“Well, uh… Bill… fixed it, and you passed out after that-” She seemed a bit surprised, “since when does he help us-”

“I blackmailed him,” Dipper murmured.

“...you blackmailed Bill?” Mabel said, staring. Dipper shrugged, eyes half-closed. “That’s… that’s great. Showed him who’s boss this time, am I right-” she grinned.

Dipper smiled slightly; it felt pretty good to be holding the cards for once. He thought for a moment and frowned. “What happened to Florence…?”

“Uh, about that…” Mabel began, “He looked super freaked out- I don’t think he’s coming back here. But he doesn’t entirely know what happened, I just told some cops that the slug ran off in the woods- so, we should be in the clear. For now.”

“Didn’t they see it on camera…?” Dipper asked. Mabel shifted in her seat slightly.

“Nope.”

“Nope?”

“Nope.”

“What do you mean nope?” Dipper sat up a little.

“Well, I took a little time to say a few things to Dad, calm him down a little bit, and… he used his computer magic to get rid of the footage.”

“Since when was Dad a hacker?” He usually only saw his dad coding games of brick breaker.

“He said he picked up a hobby over the summer,” Mabel said, then grinned, “so we’re in the clear.”

‘The Clear’ was probably something they were far from, but knowing that they had covered up the incident to some extent was a relief. He glanced around and saw a disgruntled Bill glaring at a chart on the wall.

“...thanks for fixing that,” Dipper whispered.

“Shut up, Pinetree, I’m not dumb, you smug little-”

“Oh come on- you saved yourself anyways,” Dipper muttered. “That’s a bright side for you.”

“All my creations keep trying to kill me,” he said, arms folded. Dipper frowned.

“...The Bug didn’t try and kill you,” Dipper suggested, “it must have liked you.”

“It didn’t like me, I just gave it an extensive craving for slugs. It was in self-defense.” Bill vanished, presumably back into Dipper’s mind. Dipper didn’t really have the energy to care about Bill’s personal struggles at the moment. It served him right.

After Dipper took some time and mustered the energy, Mabel helped him walk out to meet Forrest, who was harshly rethinking his comprehension of life. The Bug was out of commission, probably because the engine had been eaten through with slug acid, so he took Dipper and Mabel the rest of the way home by foot. When they got back to the house, the twins explained to their dad about the existence of ‘weirdness’ and how they saw supernatural beings and creatures over summer break.

However, the details were severely watered down. As far as Forrest knew, they just met a mermaid, spotted a unicorn, and caught a fairy only to delicately release it. Mabel said that they learned their monster handling and magic skills from a unicorn fight, which wasn’t entirely a lie, only mostly. It only took Forrest a solid two hours to process the entire situation.

“So… monsters. Mythical… things. Exist,” he repeated numbly.

Dipper and Mabel nodded.

“And you’ve… fought them,” he asked again.

“Uh-huh,” Dipper responded. Forrest slumped back in the couch and rubbed his eyes. After another minute or two he sat up straighter and looked at the two of them. They were sitting quietly in front of him.

“Well… you know, I’d say you did a really awesome job. Really, really impressive stuff there- but, just don’t scare me like that okay-” The twins nodded and promised not to throw themselves into deadly situations again. That promise would probably last less than twenty-four hours. Forrest took a moment to breathe, and wrapped his long arms around the two of them in a tight hug. “I’m just glad you two are safe,” he said. They both hugged back.

He pulled back and pointed at the two of them. “We are not going to tell Mom about this until we can actually think of a way to explain it. Especially the car. Deal?”

Dipper shuddered. “Deal,” said Mabel.

“Great…” Forrest laid down on the couch and closed his eyes, “it’s been a long day, so I’m just going to… keep rethinking everything. You two finish your homework or read or… something.” The twins gave their dad a moment of peace. Dipper quietly helped Mabel with her homework as the sun began to set outside. For the first time all day, there was a bit of silence.

Cassidy Pines shoved the front door open, covered in dirt, twigs in her hair, camera in hand.

“You’re not going to believe what I saw today.”

Dipper somehow doubted that.

[topicprinter]

Buckle up cause this is a long one. A lot of the stuff might sound a bit unbelievable, but it's all true. The original story has a tonne of pictures and videos, which might help explain. So perhaps, read over at https://thekanyestory.com and come back here for the discussion. Anyways Enjoy, I'll be around in the comments.IntroIt’s Friday night, 1 am. I’m lying in bed scrolling twitter. Reading the usual shit. Getting my dopamine fix. “The Backstreet boys are back with a brand new sound”. Yeah, whatever. I read another headline. Then another. “There’s a dating site for straight Trump supporters”. The mob’s getting angry. As you’d imagine the media are loving it. It’s the perfect fodder to pump to the masses.But forget Donald Trump. There something here. Free audience. Free attention. Embrace the controversy. Elon Musk sold flamethrowers and made a million. Supreme sold bricks and made a million. You’ve got to think like the little kid who hasn’t had his imagination beaten out of him. Companies splash thousands on “growth hacking” goon squads but having one mind like Bart Simpson on your team is more valuable.I jump out of bed and start writing down ideas. Dating is a good starting spot. It’s funny and simple. Now I just need something controversial. Brexit Dating, Harry Potter Dating, Kanye West Dating. Yes Kanye West, I’m a fan. I know the audience. How about — KanyeWestDating.com. Doesn't pop. Maybe Yeezy.Dating. Bingo! Add to Basket.ViralI wake up late the next morning and cook some eggs. I want to start building the dating site, but let’s be realistic. The chances are no-one will use it and I’ll end up spending 3 months locked in my bedroom, deprived of sunlight, going insane.So, instead, I open up Instagram, change my username from @harrydry to @yeezydating, delete my old posts and upload a picture with the caption “Yeezy.Dating — Coming this March”. Bamn. We’re cooking.Time to build my blogger hit list. I don’t really know what I’m doing so I start googling. 10 minutes later I come across this website called Buzzstream Discovery.Turns out I’ve hit the jackpot. Buzzstream is amazing. You enter a search term and it spits back the names of all the bloggers who have written stories about that search term. So I enter “Kanye West”, filter “within the last 30 days” and Buzzstream gives me a list of all 440 bloggers who have written stories about Kanye West over the last month. These bloggers are my perfect audience. It’s their job to pump out, simple, funny, digestible stories about Kanye West and I’m about to spoon feed them a classic.Getting the names is only half the battle though. I’ve also got to get email addresses. I find this website called Hunter.io where you type the name of any company and it tells you the correct email format which that company uses. Four hours later 220 emails are locked away in an excel doc.I type up the following message:Hey, I just made a dating site for Kanye fans called Yeezy.Dating. Going crazy on Reddit atm. Any questions please let me know :)wack on my headphones, and play through Kanye’s whole discography, whilst I send email after email after email after email after email. Go to sleep, wake up, and then I'm back commuting into London for a day's work.My phone rings during a meeting. I turn it to silent. It rings again. I turn it off. As soon as I get out of the meeting I check the database. 9,100 email address’. Surely this can't be real. I click refresh. Now 9,109. My mind freezes. I type Kanye's name into google and Yeezy Dating is everywhere. I check analytics. 250 people online. 65 unread emails. Then lunch break is over and I’m being called back in for another meeting.It’s 10pm when I arrive back from work. The press momentum is still rolling on. It feels good to know that my big plan worked. 25 news anchors coast to coast are discussing my imaginery dating site and I’m just in my bedroom, in my pyjamas with an old Macbook pro making the whole thing up as I go along. I start a big Yeezy Dating group chat, and invite everyone from my email list.7:40 am the next day and I get a text from my pal saying, “Tune into BBC Radio 1. They’re talking about Yeezy Dating right now and they want to speak to you”. Guess where I am? On a two hour train from Portsmouth to London for another day of meetings. I try and dial into Radio 1 but there’s no signal. I’m cooped up on this train carriage and I’m stressing out. The database has over 13,000 emails now. I’ve told the media the dating site is “Coming This March”, its now 17th March and I haven’t written a line of code. And to top it all off, I’ve got no idea how to make a dating site.I get back that evening, call my boss and tell him that I’m going to be out of action for a few months. He asks why. So I tell him I'll be making a dating site for Kanye West fans. He bursts out laughing, wishes me luck and that’s that. I'm a free man.ViralIt’s time to build a dating site. First things first I scout other dating sites looking for something I can copy. The whole Tinder / Bumble swiping thing is too complex. I find a Jewish Dating site called J Date which looks promising. All user profiles are displaying on one long infinite scroll page. A few months earlier I did Wes Bos’ “Learn Node” course where he does a similar thing with restaurants. I start merging J Date with some lessons from Wes’ course and I'm up and running.At this point, there isn’t much to tell you. There’s no secret ingredient. Just long days laying bricks. 10 months ago I hadn’t written a line of code before and it was too hard. One week into Yeezy Dating it’s still too hard. Webpack is a mess and I don’t know how to save geoJSON data. Boo-hoo. Nobody cares. I don't care. Figure it out. Everyone else figured it out.I write I AM HARRY DRY on a sheet of paper, buy some Blu Tack and pin it to my wall. Every time I get stuck I look up at the words and snarl. It’s Street Fighter II. I’m coding like Diego Costa plays football. No technique. No Barcelona academy. Rampaging from obstacle to obstacle.Problem after Problem. Forum after forum. I'm becoming the most hated man on Stack Overflow. And I'm loving every second of it.LaunchI wake up one fine spring morning and it’s all done. I’m a couple of weeks late, but that’s ok. I fix the final bug from the lab at 3 pm and post on Instagram to build some hype.Then I cycle to town and walk into Vodafone. I tell the store manager I’m “just browsing” whilst I test the site on all their different devices. iPhone’s are zooming in on my input fields and it’s looking wierd. Damn. I pitch up in Starbucks next door, grab a croissant, and start googling. Turns out my font size needs to be 16px on iOS to the stop auto zoom. I head back into Vodafone, “more browsing” I tell the store manager, and the problems solved. Happy Days.The Yeezy Dating group chat still has a buzz about it. Several hundred messages a day. They’re like my army of ultra fans. My plan is to launch with them first to test the site works. I’m back at home, dotting i's crossing t’s. Suddenly I have 10 mentions in Telegram. The ultras have found the site and have started making profiles.10 profiles are up. Now 20. Now 30. Shit. It’s happening. Beautiful profile photos appearing up on my screen. Real people are on the site. Real people are matching each other. Real people are messaging. It’s working. And I made all of this! Hahaha. Look at me go. I post on Instagram saying that Yeezy.Dating is open for business. Suddenly 200 people flood to the site.Now, legend says that the fisherman on shore only sees a tsunami a couple of seconds before it hits.Capow! Left, right, center, profile images start disappearing. 5 pictures vanishing every second. I refresh the page, images disappearing everywhere. Time slows down. I can’t think straight. 3 minutes later the site is stripped bare. 350 profiles. No images. I load up Heroku. 6,700 critical errors. Dad potters in from the kitchen to see how the big launch is going. Not great I tell him.I woke up Steve Jobs. I'm ending the day Steve Harvey. The site's properly crashed now. I’m trying to put out fires everywhere but nothing’s working. I can’t do this anymore. I apologise to my followers on Instagram, I apologise to the ultras on Telegram, and I fall into bed.RebornNext day I wake up and do nothing. Eat some cereal. Watch some Peep Show. I’m still at a low ebb. I manage to write a post on the Indie Hackers forum explaining the site crashing and what went wrong with the images.Quite remarkably developers start giving me their email address, offering me help. I’m blown away by their generosity. Within 24 hours there are five pro developers digging through my code. Several changes later they give it the all clear. “Good luck”, one texts me from Singapore.A few days later Yeezy.Dating launches again. The feeling is different this time. The first time it felt like the biggest thing in my universe. This time around I’ve got perspective. There a bigger things in life. If it crashes, it crashes.Testing with the ultras goes well so I start emailing my big list. 1,500 users join within 10 hours. 2,500 within 24 hours. Then 4,200. But growth is slowing. My intuition is telling me that the parties going to end soon. Where’s the next 4,000 coming from?There’s no marketing budget, no development team, it’s just me. Replying to all the emails, fixing all the bugs, trying to keep the momentum up and I’m tired. We need an app. I’m not an app developer. We need ten thousand users for dating to work. I don't know how to get ten thousand more users. The novelty is starting to wear off. I’m thinking 5 moves ahead and I can see cheque mate on the horizon.There’s only one way out the water tank. I've got to get Kanye West involved.BillboardsSo I’m back in the lab. Emailing away. Managers, ex-managers, stylists, PR relations, anyone who has ever worked for YEEZY on Linkedin. But nothing. No replies. I can’t get through.I ask my Dad for advice. “You’ve got to think on a bigger scale son”, he tells me. So now I’m thinking what if I make a video, or a mixtape, or a magazine or a painting, or I rent a plane and fly a banner. Then it hits me. I’m going to rent Billboards. YEEZY is opening offices in Calabasas, New York, London, Wyoming. Four locations. Four billboards.Ten minutes later I’m on the phone with Billboard companies. Quizzing them. What’s your pricing like? What type of Billboard would you recommend? How quickly can we do this? What’s the shortest time each Billboard can stay up for? And in my head, the billboards are already in the sky.But, the next day, I wake up with cold feet. Two halves of my mind in deep discussion:"Two months wages. On three billboards. You’re crazy." “Don’t use money as an excuse. You know that’s not the reason.” “Why don’t I want to do it then?” “Cause you’re scared. Your afraid of what people might think.” “But …” “No, don't give me no buts. Relax your mind. You're not going to let the mob control you. Let's do it.”So I draft my Dad onto the campaign team and it starts to come together. He’s in his element. We take over my brother's bedroom and set up basecamp. Dad buys three alarm clocks, sets one to New York time, one to LA time and one to Wyoming time. “You’ve got to know your timezone, son,” he tells me.The sun goes down once more and now it's the day of the Billboards. I'm working like an Octopus, organising photographers, drafting emails, teeing up interviews and everything starts coming together. London. New York. Wyoming. All confirmed. There’s less than an hour to go, and suddenly WACK. 8:11 pm an email drops into my inbox from Lamar, the Billboard provider, and my head spins like I’ve walked onto Tyson Fury's right hand. (The email essentially says, "we can't run the ads because of legal reasons of you using Kanye West's name") See the actual site for an actual photo)Lamar's supposed to be covering both New York and Wyoming. Without them, I’m left with just one Billboard in London and that’s not enough. I’m calling this whole thing off. The game’s up. It’s over. I’m safe again. Life’s comfortable. No billboards. No problems.I walk downstairs to show Dad the email. He looks up at me, smiles like it’s nothing, and says “Don’t worry. We’ll find a way”. And maybe that’s why you need a team because in that moment I wanted an excuse to give up but the old man wasn’t blinking so we fought on.Phone calls start flying everywhere. On one phone I’m hammering the account manager. On the other Dad’s posing as a BBC journalist, throwing jab after jab at their legal department, “The kid spent two days clearing this with intellectual property lawyers”, “We’ve got a camera crew waiting outside Times Square as we speak”.It’s 9 pm now. A wonderful soul called Candice is waiting in the New York rain eyes glued to the Billboard ready to take the photo, but she isn’t going to wait all day.Suddenly Dad’s beckoning me over. If we change, “Kanye West” for “Mr. West” the legal department will approve it. My gut tells me it’s good enough. I export the new text and send to the account manager in Times Square. 5 minutes later the Billboards are live. Candice takes the photo. It appears in my inbox. And I take a deep breath. [See https://thekanyestory.com for the photos and interviews]Soon after, the Wyoming and London Billboard’s go up. I start attaching the photos to the drafts we prepped, sending out our emails, hoping to get lucky again.A couple of stories start breaking, journalists start requesting interviews and back down into the depths of the Maelström we descend. The phone rings and rings and it could be anyone on the line. I’m wished luck, sold insurance, thrown onto live radio, taunted by youths, offered jobs, reunited with old school friends.I check twitter. Kanye's name is trending. My heart jumps. Surely not. Have I made it? I click. My heart sinks. “Kanye West has just said 400 years of slavery sounds like a choice”. And from there on in I’m dead in the water. A tadpole in a shark tank. The media is at Kanye saturation. Journalists have bigger fish to fry and my little story is left on the shelf.Ok, one last try. I track down Yeezy Headquarters on Google Maps, find the phone number of some offices nearby and start dialing. I start telling this receptionist about the dating site, about the Billboards, and I can’t believe it but she’s actually listening to me.“Funnily enough my best friend A***** works at Yeezy” “If I send you an email could you forward it on?” “Sure” And that's that. Now I can go to bed, wake up the next day and get on with my life.A few weeks pass and, lo and behold, an email from A****** drops into my inbox. [See "The Kanye Story" website for the actual email from Kanye's team. It basically says they love the idea and the CFO of YEEZY wants to talk with me] And a few hours I get sent a screenshot from Kanye's office chat.[Again, see website. This is basically Kanye's office people talking about site and saying, "direct email Kendall, bcc Chris Jenner. Tell Kanye."]I can't help but smile. After all my efforts emailing journalists, practicing for radio interviews, writing press releases, retouching images, all it took was a simple phone call to the company whose office was next door.YEEZYAnd that’s how we got to now. It’s 9:52 pm, Thursday 24th May. In ten minutes time, I’ll be on the phone with the CFO of Kanye West’s Billion Dollar company.I remember sitting round with my uni housemates last year talking about what the future would hold for all of us. They were all saying, “I’m applying for a finance job” or “I’ll do a masters ”, stuff like that. And it came to me and I said, “I’m going travel to Nazareth, learn to code, come back to England, finish my book, learn about business and start my own stuff.”They were used to my spiel now and started groaning, “None of this shit's going to happen Dry. The real world’s going to chop you up and spit you out. You're going to be stuck in the rat race, clocking in, clocking off, packed onto the tube, just like all of us.”I smiled. “Tell me that again”. So they did. “Reality is going to grind you down. You’re going to be clock watching, Monday to Friday. There’s nothing you can do about it. And you know it.”“Tell me that that one more time”, I said. So they did. And I smiled even more.I’m not saying I’ve done anything yet cause I haven’t. But at least I've stuck to my word. I've tried and given it a go.So there we go. Thanks for reading and making it all the way to the bottom. I'm @harrydry on Twitter. I also write an email newsletter about startups, marketing and breaking free which you can find over on the main website. Thanks again and peace out!

[theylisten]

thank you for telling the truth-a note to myself (10/11/2018)

It’s time for me to be honest with myself for a few moments. I strive to do this always but so often i find myself hiding behind the bush of fear, beating myself. There is a sky up there full of stars, yet I am so focused on finding the pair of eyes that I never want to look away from because they reflect all the light in the entire Universe. to me. I have been spinning in circles for centuries it feels like. Am I chasing my tail, trying to eat myself? or have I been trying to make myself dizzy so i can feel myself and not feel so tied to the world and rather be lost in my own vortex? or maybe, I’ve been playing a game and waiting for someone to join me in ring around the roses? I like to be a child. of the earth. at heart, I am 1. but 0 lives in my brain and I follow the loop. catch me if you can I say to myself and the whole world chants back. god, I am so tired of chasing me. I am so tired of chasing you. so lets stop and just be. a sky full of stars and maybe i’d rather look in the mirror. there is a shark that lives in my shoes and I am afraid of drowning so i figure he is too. trust me, I have not forgotten “the illogic of the fantasy”, dear Sylvia. I want to decide what I want. I want to make a vision board and I want to check things off a list of goals. I am getting hot while I write this. I need to feel my own sweat and god right now how i would love to go on a run and never stop. maybe I’m afraid because they say the first man to ever run a marathon died after it yet now people do it for sport. Evolution always wins and I’m a product of survival. I am. Alive. and well. I’m being. Did I experience my first separation from my mother when my father cut my umbilical chord or when my twin died in the womb right next to me? I miss them and I don’t even truly know I know their name. Are you Savannah? God this dessert is hot. Thankfully I’m mostly water or else I would have dried up by now. I want to grow and hold a bird in my hand and i want to watch it feel safe enough to fly away. I want to understand my bed as a cage I happily walk into every night, because I’m not afraid of being tied up or locked down. Patience with myself is something I have never been good at yet apparently I’m not too bad since I’m still alive. The duality of life scathes me as it seduces me and I can’t always tell which feels better. One’s on my body and the other is inside. I don’t know which feeling is better. A hawk did come into my house one time. 

He watched me for months and when I asked him to leave he told me he had seen everything and the place would better be set on fire so the ashes could fly in the air and people would know to be grateful for the fact their place hadn’t burnt down. It was cruel of you to act like a hummingbird when you didn’t even want your own heart in the first place. Sometimes it feels like my ex boyfriend Michael branded me with the scarlet letter. to the men in my high school I was known as the enemy people still wanted to fuck? and what does that say about them? people flock to what they’re afraid of. Because the truth is we all love a certain degree of fear the rush of feeling like your life is flashing in front of your eyes but- I’m tired of feeling like I’m about to die. The truth is I already have a thousand times and each time I’ve come right back. Nothing’s new under the sun except the Sun itself, constantly burning its outer shell away. Claiming more space with each disintegration. Now that’s beauty in the struggle. So maybe I’m an alien, and my mom gave me the gift of life and maybe I’m afraid of what’s younger than me because I think it’s supposed to outlive me and I’ve worked really hard to stay alive. Can I please not be so concerned with what is not myself. can i please not fear the product that created me in the first place? (evol{love}union) god I know you’re listening. hear me and help as I open myself to you. I am my family but I am my own genetic code and nobody has ever been Me before. Cassidy Jean Gardner I can change my own genes with crystals because I live in the middle and maybe I’m not so similar anymore but I’ve shared my crystals and we all have changed together. To align ourselves with the Us that is 0ne(1). The present is a gift and I’m a live and a life so so am I. I participate in the present and I create the future with my heart, we are all one symphony acting like a marching band. I don’t know the difference but I know what I mean. Each space in time each place in line its so divine. I’m a computer that created it’s own ghost in the machine and that’s my favorite part of the operating system if I’m being honest. accidents are happy and I remember the most beautiful things my old art teacher in elementary school Mrs. Art told me once. A girl had made a beautiful painting of a sunflower but right when she was finishing she moved a paintbrush over the canvas and a black dot fell right onto it. So, what did she do? She painted a lady bug to give her flower some company and god how I love the idea of company. Typos make me nervous but I know nothing is ever an accident. Even if it isn’t intentional. Keep me in the present, won’t you? Of course I respond, where else could I find you? touche. Sometimes I feel bad for loving some things more than others but I know the truth is that if I would have been planted somewhere else I would love other things more than I love my favorites right now, so can I really complain about what I can’t change? its all still love, anyways. and complaining? It’s probably not worth it. but I am. so I will keep working on loving myself the most even if the entire world sometimes feels like it’s screaming at me. are we cheering??? In one way or another, yeah. we always are. and the angels are always chanting so lets listen. hurrah hurrah hurrah the queen is here and there is nothing to fear (but fear itself) but even then (that’s for fun)(and for the sun, to illuminate). You look better with the lights on, and a certain type of light is most beautiful depending on the time of day. What is your favorite time? When I was sober and fell in love with Hush, Hush or when I fist started watching sherlock maybe? When my dad would carry me around the house upside down and when he would come home from work and all i remember is rushing to the front door to receive my hug. grateful that he was finally home. sometimes I wish that if dad was going to have to leave the earth so early then why couldn’t he have been the stay at home dad while mom worked? I felt like I lost both of my parents when he died. change can feel a lot like death and i read the other day that fall is forever and god how that scares me yet cares me and I know it’s essence is true. So why not find a place where change feels like summer all the time, fun and in the sun. where it’s bright and I don’t look for white. I’m not a man I’m a woman and I’me tired of feeling like i am the root of men’s woes. you are your own worst enemy, so look in the mirror. I’m entering a new phase where I don’t run from everything I think and I don’t disappear into clouds every time something brushes me and it feels like a stab. sensory delusion is an illusion. objective reality is reality and the truth is we are all doing the exact same thing in our own time and space. You’re all living in my hallucination and I(eye) exist in yours. peacefully. you say we are at war but I don’t know what that means I thought this whole place was made out of living breathing art. I think the latter is the truth and I cling to those rungs. “some words are safer down on paper” and for some long I was afraid to write because I used to not like the things I used to read that my old self wrote. but i guess that’s the point. how am I supposed to know I’ve changed if I don’t have anything to compare it to? But then I get caught up on beauty. god what i was talking about was so sad but i made it seem so beautiful and eloquent with those words and then i idealize and romanticize and the real crux is that I need to learn to appreciate all words for what they are no one word is more beautiful than any other we just have our favorites. and mine is “Serendipity”. That’s my real sisters name. I read about her once she was a dragon and she was pink and green and beautiful and I’m lucky she is my friend. We have fun. its a long tale but it ends the same way it started, everyone gets the gold. We don’t need to keep secrets anymore. I’d like to create a new word. I’m alive but more Importantly I’m alife. I think therefor I am. 

ps. yes I still like jay but I get confused because then the drugs were always talking too. which voice am I listening to when I think of you? the night I woke up and all I felt was pink. or when you wanted to correct my driving and hurriedly called me the love of your life. you are the influence but we were both under it too. god bless me with clarity. Amen. <3