#id make this a full comic if i could i just need more substance

[cuppajj]

i had a vision

[angelisverba]

so precious, if only you knew

in which y/n thinks her brother’s best friend sees her as a little sister, and Jason, her brother’s best friend, thinks she’s too cute for her own good.

word count: 9k give or take some :D

pairing: y/n, and her brothers best friend, Jason (from the snl skit)

notes: inspired by project x. that’s all.

When Jason and his friends were in their freshman year of high school, they made a pact.

To have a party.

A party so big, everyone got laid. A party so big, celebrities came. A party so big, the police feared it.

One where they would loose their virginity. Get drunk so they couldn’t remember how they lost it (although, now it’s too late ‘cause none of them are virgins). And maybe, just maybe, participate in the illegal consumption of illegal substances such as drugs and or alcohol.

At the time of their promise, it was unknown if this party would be any sort of celebration, or just for the hell of it. The four, gangly, skinny, face-full-of-acne, boys had been so fueled by the simple idea that they just had to make their party so legendary future alumni could only imagine imitating an ordeal as great as the one they created. As time passed, they argued over who’s birthday, or what holiday would be the cause of, as it had come to be named, G.C.B.B. Get Crunk and Bone Babes. Pronounced gee-sea-babe, because somehow the two b’s had morphed into ‘babe’. GCBabe, in the end, was endowed to Jason when he made a bet that he would score the winning touchdown and win the league for his high school during his junior year. Andrew and Kent, slightly peeved but more relieved that they had a reason to celebrate (they’d settled on Jason’s birthday), and had shifted their focus to the hows, when, wheres, and whats of the situation.

This was the only thing they ever talked about the closer it got to the date, Feburary 1st, and everything they did revolved around spreading the word, obtaining booze, weed, and whatever else they planned on having. Andrew, who’s uncle so conveniently ran a radio station, not only announced a message himself on said radio station, but also convinced his uncle’s dj coworkers to email any celebrities they knew.

Kent, more on the brainy side of things, was working on the booze and drugs. He snuck into the school and used that machine they had to make student id’s and created a fake state id for himself. He would buy booze in a store where workers didn’t know him. Maybe drive 30 minutes to the next town for beer and the lot. His cousin had told him not to worry about weed and the sorts, as long as he received payment.

Jason, ever the spoiled brat, would pay for everything. Even if it was his birthday.

No, no, because it was his birthday.

The thing is, his parents were going out of town to celebrate their anniversary, which just so happened to fall on Jason’s birthday (what a wonderful gift to Jason’s dad), and had given him a generous sum of money to make up for the fact that they wouldn’t be there to celebrate his 18th birthday party. So, he had the house, the money, and the birthday to celebrate.

“YOU’VE HEARD IT ONCE BEFORE, AND YOU’LL HEAR IT AGAIN TILL THE END OF THIS SCHOOL’S TIME,” yelled Andrew, who stood on the back of a golf cart, megaphone in hand while Jason and Kent drove him up and down the lunch tables, “PARTY AT FUCKING JASON’S HOUSE, THIS SATURDAY. MISS IT, AND YOU’LL DIE.”

“Andrew!”

The cart came to a stop in front of a very disgruntled-looking y/n, Andrew’s sister. She stood comically, with her hands bunched up into tiny fists at her hips, lips in a frown at her brothers actions. “Are you trying to cause a riot? Miss it or die,” she mocked, pulling a funny face and cocking her hip to the side as she does so, “Yeah, think I’d rather die, thanks. Now shut up and put that cart back before they take away your senior privileges.”

Kent laughs, and Jason, leaning with his forearms crossed on top of the steering wheel, snickered into his wrists.

“Well, I’ve got news for you sissy,” said Andrew, his tongue poking out at her playfully, “Coach Barnwell let us borrow his cart, and all the snitch staff is in a meeting, so I’m not gonna get into trouble,” He makes and L with his forefinger and thumb, pressing it on his forehead, “Loser. Now, scram. Go study for chem or... something.”

Y/n laughed at her brother, knowing that he was only joking with her, and flipped him off. She walked away with, as Andrew said, her chem book tucked underneath her arm, and shut herself in a little nook at the library for the remainder of the lunch period. Away from the ‘get crunk and bone babes’ nonsense, god knows she heard enough of it at home. Jason this, and GCBabe that. Sheesh, it was terrible. All she ever wanted to do was study and do her homework in peace... and maybe steal a few glances and Jason here and there.

But we don’t have to talk about that. What y/n really needed to do, was study for the chem test she had on Friday. Tomorrow. She was the best in her class, always raising her hand to answer a question, but for whatever reason, she just couldn’t get the hand of stoichiometry if she didn’t have a sample problem in front of her. She didn’t want to have to, but grades mattered, so all day she had been thinking of way to cheat. How to write what she needed. Which letters to shorten. Where to hide the slip of paper.

She’d done it before.

Cheat on a test, that is. The pressure there was to ensure good grades, well it was an insurmountable force. Her entire life, her parents told her academic success led to success in life, and you don’t want to end up homeless under the bridge do you, y/n?

She didn’t. It was her biggest fear. Studying hard for a nice home and car, and enough money to support herself and her kids was a constant thought in the back of her mind.

It’s because of this that the tip of her nose was always stuck in a book, her fingers always wrapped around a pencil that transcribed notes in her neat writing. It was all she knew.

Because it was all she knew. It was no surprise to her parents when she pulled all-nighters to study for tests. Or when she declined offers to eat dinner out because ‘mom, I have a test to study for’ or ‘dad, i really need to finish this essay’. That night, was no different. Y/n stayed up to study, her thumb pink because of all the pages she was flipping through. Her wrist her from forcing her writing to be as small as it could, so she could fit all she could on an index card she cut in half. 

In the morning, Andrew cheered a loud, “WHOOP! WHOOP! MY SISTER ISN’T SUCH A GOODY TWO SHOES AFTER ALL!” when he saw her place the card up her shirtsleeve after she put her seat belt on. Y/n, had she had the energy, would’ve pushed his shoulder, but instead chose to take a nap during the measly 15 minutes it took to get to school. Her head jostled against the headrest with the cars movements, and she almost cried because she couldn’t doze off. Somewhere along the way, she felt fingers against the side of her face, cradling her head. She jumped, startled, but she heard Andrew say,

“Relax, its Jason. Picked him up cause he needed a ride to school.” and she was out like a light.

Andrew got out of the car once he parked, and Jason circled around the passenger seat so he leaned over the console, with his palm still on the other side of her face. He rubbed up and down her forearm to wake her, murmuring, “We’re here, y/n. S’time to wake up.”

Y/n woke up disoriented, starting with a deep breath and her eyes blinking open slowly, looking around and landing on Jason, who was smiling at her tenderly. She smiles back at him, tilting her head to the side as she does so. She hopes he can’t hear how fast her heart is beating.

“Good morning,” she said to him. The warning bell rings not long after that, and she turns away from him to reach for her backpack. Jason grabs his own backpack, too, swinging it over his should and stepping out of Andrew’s car. Andrew stands at the front of the car, texting someone on his phone while he waits for Jason and his little sister to step out.

“C’mon guys. Big day today!” yelled Andrew. It seemed as if he was always yelling. His voice, ebullient and clear, held an electrifying energy today, amplifying itself to the max. He whooped and hollered, locking his car carelessly and comically skipping away, but not before turning back and blowing a kiss in Jason’s general direction, yelling, “This is for you, big boy!”

Y/n snickered at her brother, and at Jason’s shocked face. “That was for you, big boy,” she repeated after he brother.

“You forgot the kiss,” he said, pouting and pointing his chin down at the floor. Her heart doubled over in her chest, and she struggled to contain her swoon.The little 13 year old in her, having been the first time she ever felt anything for Jason, squealed like a banshee, and the rational 17 year old in her, shushed her by taping her mouth closed. Having seen Jason’s blonde, skinny, cheerleader girlfriends, she knew it would never happen. Jason was only nice to her because she was his best friend’s little sister.

That was all she’d ever be.

“Oh I have no doubt you’ll get plenty of those tomorrow,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. When she noticed the groups of students getting smaller and smaller, she started walking away, eager to get to class and not be late. She’s only taken three steps when Jason calls out her name.

“I know you’ll do great on your test today,” and he has the goofiest smile on his stupidly handsome name and y/n just wants to go over there and slap him for making her heart to pirouettes.

“Thank you,” she said, and turned to walk to her class.

Jason felt as if he was in one of those indie movies. But, the ones from the 80′s. Ironically, he’s leaned up against the car, one foot propped up, hand clenching the singular strap he wore on his left shoulder. Entranced, he stared after y/n as she walked away, brows dipped over his eyes and his leg bouncing jitterishly.

When he was 16, a sophomore, and she a freshman, he’d stumbled upon her on a rainy spring day. He’d been on his way home from his (now ex) girlfriend’s house, and she was huddled underneath a large birch tree, the canopy thick enough so she wasn’t getting wet, but the winds strong enough that she was chilled to the bone. Her knees were banged up, and her ankle was twisted. Jason remembers asking her what happened, and she said nothing, instead jumping into his arms when he knelt down beneath her. He remember hissing because she was so cold, her clothes soaked through. She’d whispered to him a weak don’t tell my parents, please take me to your house, and he did. He took her to his house, carrying her because the poor thing had to hop on one foot. This was around the time he was bulking for wrestling, so he didn’t have a hard time lifting her and carrying her the rest of the way.

She fell asleep on his bed wearing a pair of his sweatpants and his hoodie after she took a warm shower. They never talked about. Not even once. But Jason swears that every once in a while, the skin of his neck still burns where she pressed a kiss to it after he got in bed next to her because she was ‘still cold’.

Since then, Jason harbored feelings for her. His yearning of her dainty hands to press against his chest while she cuddled into him was squashed every time he heard Andrew yell at another guy in the locker room for sexualizing his sister.

It was a dangerous game he played. Sneaking looks at her in car rides to and from school. Wanting to kiss her like he did then. And when she wore plaid school girl skirts, he wanted to press her up against the wall and hold her by the throat while his tongue snaked into her mouth. All while he sat next to Andrew.

He knew that one day, he’d say fuck it all and do it. He wasn’t an idiot. His back burned when she stared a him from her kitchen isle while he played video games with Kent and Andrew in the living room of her house. He knew every little thing she tried to pass as discreet, because he did the same thing too.

One day, and one day soon, he’d say fuck. it. all.

.

.

.

Y/n was very nervous.

Well, she always get nervous when she’s getting ready to take a test but, today was different. She was on edge, leg bouncing and head pounding. She was stressed. Her english teacher had assigned a paper that was due at midnight, and her math teacher had given her a surprise quiz she knows she failed. And this test was her chance to bring her B+ to an A-. Not to mention, if she got caught, she’d be sent up to the office with a referral.

“You have until the end of class to complete this exam. If you fail to complete before the class period, you will be granted five minutes after the bell. You may begin,” the teacher, Mrs. Prowe, sat down after the little announcement, and turned her full attention to an adult coloring book she had set up on her desk.

Y/n stared at the first question for a solid 2 minutes before any of the information actually sunk in. To which does He belong? a. metals b. metalloids c. non-met....

The first few questions are always easy. Review from past chapters, all of which y/n understood. The first page, front and back, were a breeze. She bubbled in circled on her answer sheet without hesitation. The back side, however, was a different story.

Her palms began to sweat at the sight of brackets and subscripts on letters. Her pencil started slipping. Y/n’s heart started to race, the edges of her eyes blurring. Don’t cry, don’t cry. Fuck. The note card. She took it out with no second thoughts. Within seconds, she had finished the first problem. It was almost exactly like the example exercise she had copied down, only the letters had been changed; different elements. Halfway through the period, the teacher announced how much time was left, and y/n was nearly done.

On the last page, however, was one problem she knew she wouldn’t get. It was one of what the teacher called ‘irregulars’, because you needed to follow certain rules that pertained to the elements or whatever the heck it was. She stared at the paper with her eyebrows raised, and all the dreadful feelings she had felt before tumbled back. Her pencil began to slip, her eyes began to blur. Shit, shit.

The bell rang. She didn’t want to doddle any longer, cut she needed to answer this last problem, and she didn’t fucking know how. Her leg was near violently shaking, the table quivering with her movements. Her breathing grew tight, and she figured, she could lose one point. Knowing Mrs. Prowe it wouldn’t matter because that last one is most likely worth half the test. Y/n felt herself go rigid, body nearly frozen as she walked against student traffic to place her test on the teachers desk.

She was the last to exit the classroom. She did so with her head hung low, her feet dragging slowly on the tiles. Lips trembling, fighting to hold back tears.

That was how she bumped into Jason. Shoulders drooping and eyes shining wet. She bumped into his chest so hard, she would’ve fallen back if he didn’t catch her.

“Y/n?” He asked after he stumbled back a bit. He’d seen her coming, and he was looking at her, ready to smile when she looked up, but she hadn’t. “What’s wrong?” He followed her gaze to try and make eye contact with her, but she shifted her eyes to the floor, and let the tears slip.

“Y/n? Y/n? Hey, look at me,” Jason’s voice was desperate and panicked because he wasn’t really sure what was wrong. Y/n started to curl in on herself, her hands coming to clutch opposite shoulders. When she didn’t look up at him, Jason gingerly lifted her chin up with his curled forefinger. “What is it?”

“It’s too much. I-I,” was all she managed to whisper before she started crying, she body swaying with sobs. Y/n knew, she knew she was crossing the same lines she had that rainy spring day, but she needed to feel her arms around him. She needed to feel secure.

So,

she took one step forward, and wrapped her arms around his neck awkwardly, Not a full millisecond passed, when she felt his arms encompass her, a secure bind around her waist. His chin propped on her head, on his hands rubbing up and down her back, and she had her face tucked into his neck.

“S’okay, y/n. You’re okay,” He cooed into her ear, making ssh-ssh noises every now and then.

Slowly but surely, y/n felt herself come down from the self-destructive place she put herself in; the knot in her throat untangled. She began to retract her arms from Jason’s neck, when his arms tightened around her. She stilled, unsure of what to do.

For a second, Jason had forgotten his situation. Why he couldn’t get close to her. He was so close to saying fuck-it-all. He wasn’t sure what held him back. Maybe it was her teary eyes. Or the fact that a teacher had come out of their classroom. But, he cleared his throat and pulled away from her, stuffing his hands in his letterman jacket to avoid reaching out to wipe the tears from her cheeks.

“Sorry about that,” she said, sniffing and attempting to laugh to brush off the back that she had a mini-breakdown in his arms. “I-”

“It’s okay, y/n. Don’t apologize. I just want to to know what had you so upset,” Jason said, his words coming out slowly to make sure that she truly understood how much he meant them.

“It’s just,” she sighed, “school. It’s a lot.”

He scoffed, “I bet. You do so much. More than you give yourself credit for, I think. Deserve a break.”

“This weekend; s’gonna be my break. Yours too, no? Are you excited?” She confessed, turning the other way and beginning to walk. She was sure that Andrew was waiting for them at the car. Jason walked alongside her, as soon as she started moving.

“Yeah. It’s been all me, Kent, and Andrew have wanted since freshman year.” Jason stops talking for a minute, and scrunches one side of his face.

“But?” Y/n prods. Looking at him out of the corner of her eye. He scratched the back of his neck, and his jacket inflates where his bicep flexes. Jason notices her looking, and smiles at her while giving her a side-eye look. Blushing, she turns her face straight forwards, like that didn’t just happen.

“But, some of the novelty has worn off if I’m being honest.” When she hums, almost knowingly, he adds quickly, “Don’t tell Andrew or Kent I said that.”

She giggled, and murmured, “You’ve kept my secrets, I’ll keep yours.”

Jason, surprised at her subtle acknowledgement of what happened nearly 2 years ago, turns to look at her, shocked. He wants to say something. Anything to get her to say more, but he sees Andrew and shuts his gaping mouth.

“There you are- hey, y/n, are you okay?” Andrew’s chesire cat grin drops from his face when he sees that his little sister’s face is splotchy and swollen red from past tears- a look he recognizes all to well from the times she’d come into his room in the middle of the night asking to be held.

“I’m good,” she smiled at her brother, a sad smile that revealed she wasn’t okay, but didn’t wanna talk about it. “Let’s go home.”

Their ride was full of quick gibber and banter over tomorrow. How thing would go down, who they hoped to see and, in Andrew’s words, fuck. What music they would play, etc. etc. Y/n laughed at their enthusiasm under her breath. As much as she loved her brother, he could be such an idiot sometimes

They dropped Jason off at his house, which was being prepped by Kent by the looks of it. His car- a red corolla- was parked in Jason’s strip of a driveway. Andrew promised he’d be joining them later that night, and pulled out. 

He pulled the windows up, and turned the music off. Then, he said,

“Y/n, what happened?” Andrew, as much as he was a fuckboy an party animal, cared about his sister if he cared about anything at all. Maybe a little too much.

Pushing air past her lips, “I’m fine now, Andy. I promise. That stupid chem test really had me going, that’s all.”

“Are you sure, y/n? No one was bothering you?” Andrew looked at her quickly, hesitantly turning away from her to look at the road.

“Andy, I’m okay.” She reassured her brother.

Jason wasn’t a bother.

.

.

.

Saturday morning, y/n woke up to an eerily quiet house.

A difference to the pasts months. She’d gotten used to Andrew yelling ‘GET CRUNK BONE BABES!” all over the house. Hell, their parents knew of the entire party ordeal, and were quite skeptical about it. Knowing their son, they didn’t try to stop him, they just told him time and time again to ‘be safe, Andrew.’ So many nights he had come home excited and drunk, and shown them videos on his phone of what had occurred at whoever’s house he’d been at before

Their dad, in fact, had watched the videos with amazement, and never bashed on anything other than the fact that he shouldn’t be drinking when he wasn’t the appropriate age for it yet.  Y/n and Andrew were lucky to have such laid-back and relaxed parents that focused much more on safety and well-being rather than the semantics of it.

As y/n crept down the stairs in her silky pj’s (a christmas gift from her 26-year old aunt who liked to shop at Victoria’s Secret), the murmurs of her parents in the kitchen became louder and louder.

“Heard it on the radio, for godsakes,” said her mother, laughing as she stirred whatever liquid she had in her mug.

“I wonder if Jason’s parents know, about the whole thing,” said her dad, his back was to her, facing his wife.

“They must, I mean, it’s the only thing these boy’s have wanted since they started high school, Jason proba- oh hey, y/n!” Her mom smiled wide when she saw her step off the last stair.  At the mention of his daughter’s name, her dad turns around, and y/n can see that he has a mug in his hand too.

“Good morning,” y/n croaked, her voice froggy early in the morning.

“Big day today, no?” Her dad teased.

“I guess so,” she murmured, taking a seat on the kitchen counter and drumming her knuckles on it. Her mother makes her a small plate of what was left over from their breakfast, eggs, bacon, and a slice of toast with jelly. Picking up the slice of toast, she takes a small bite out of it and pulls out her phone from her back pocket, and starts scrolling through her social medias. It consists of people’s dogs, food, photos of Brad Pitt, and....

Her brother had posted a snap from the night before. A short video, not even 3 seconds long. Jason heading into one of the rooms in his large house, with a girl trailing behind him. She wore shorts that barely covered the swell of her butt, and a bikini top. It was captioned crudely: pre-birthday head for the birthday boy.

“Y/n?”  Her dad, or maybe her mom, she didn’t know. Her stomach started twisting, a sour taste settled in the back of her mouth. A weird underwater filter covered her ears, making it seem as if her head was underneath the water, and her parents were speaking to her from above the surface.

Forcing a smile onto her face, she hummed a response, not taking her eyes off her phone screen. It was weird, the feeling that overcame her when she spotted Jason with another girl. Every time, the same thing. Nausea on her tongue, a heat covering the back of her neck and ears, and a dreadful feeling settleling in the pit of her stomach.

“So, you’re going tonight then?” One of her parents asked.

Taking a few seconds to think, taking into consideration what she could be doing instead of watching Jason....”No, I don’t think so.” Her voice is sure, and strong, loaded with finality. 

A load clink of ceramic against marble echoes in the kitchen. She looks up from her phone then, placing it on the counter face down. Her mother was staring at her with her lips pressed together in a hard line. “And why not?”

“Because a party isn’t my scene, mom.” Y/n responds tentatively, alarmed at her mothers hard and inquisitive tone. Her dad stood quietly watching the interaction, stepping to the side to that there was nothing on between y/n’s line of vision.

“And how would you know that if you’ve never been to the one. You’re brother loves them! And I think that you need this break. Andrew told me what happened yesterday. You need to let loose, y/n.” Her mother argued, her words going from agitated to coaxing. “Go to this party.”

“No.” y/n said, looking at her mother straight inn the eyes. She didn’t want to go. She wanted to spend a calm night at home,, all cozy in her blankets with a book, and not having to look at Jason with a pain in her chest.

“Fine,” said her mother, taking her phone out of her pocket.

“Thank you,” responded y/n, relieved. Her dad nodded, and opened his mouth to speak, when her mom said,

“If you don’t go, Andrew can’t either.”

Both y/n and her dad gasp. Her mom was lifting her phone up to her ear, the dial tone ringing in the room.

“N-no, you can’t do that! Andrew’s gonna be so upse-”

“Hello? Andrew? I’m doing good sweetie, uh, listen. Your sister doesn’t want to go to the party, so you can’t go either. However, if YOU MANAGE TO CONVINCE THEN YOU CAN GO,” Y/n’s mom’s voice raises to cover her brother’s protests, “THAT’S FINAL. GOODBYE.”  Yn’s mom hangs up the phone and places it next to the kitchen sink.

Not even a full second later, while y/n stares mortifies at her mom and dad, her phone starts to blare the theme song to The Simpsons, the ringtone for her brother.

She picks it up with her jaw still dropped. She answered the phone.

“Y/n! Y/n, PLEASE. WHAT’S GOING ON? PLEASE COME TO THIS PARTY, Y/N, DON’T DO THIS TO ME, Y/N...” her brother’s voice fills the room even when she doesn’t have him on speaker. he’s begging her, his voice truly distraught.

She knows she has no other option that to agree. She couldn’t do that to her brother, not when it’s the only thing he’s talked about for the past month. She wasn’t mean enough to do that to him.

“... FOR TWO WEEKS. I’LL DO ANYTHING, PLE-”

“OKAY! I’ll go, fuck,” Y/n yelled back, exasperated and defeated. She pinched the bridge of her nose, and stares down at her plate, not bearing to look at her mom and dad.

“Thank you! Oh my god, thank you. I’ll pick you up at 5, so-”

Y/n hung up on him. Glared at her mom, and the went to mope until 5 in her bedroom.

.

.

.

Somewhere along the line, moping turned into pre-party prep. She turned her speaker up all the way, and sang at the top of her lungs. Y/n was going in with the mentality of drinking and keeping to herself.  Observing, or locking herself in on of the rooms and fall asleep. She was dreading it, but wouldn’t deprive her brother of this because it meant so much to him. 

Her parents tried coming in several times, and every time she refused to open her door. 

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, she thought to herself, I’ve got this. 

Once it got closer to 5, she put in some jeans and her favorite t-shirt. A faded purple short-sleeve with a smokey image of Prince on it. She totally didn’t wear it because every time she wore it, Jason complimented her on it. 

It was 4:57 when Andrew knocked on her door. 

“Y/n, y/n, y/n, my sister whom I love so much, can you please-“ he’s knocking rapidly on her door, and y/n throws on a green knit sweater at last minute before opening the door, and her brother knocks right on her eye. 

“Ow!” She helps, the hand that wasn’t holding her shoulder bag reaching up to cover her eye. Andrew gasped, and started to repeatedly apologize. 

“I’m so-“

Y/n, irritated and upset, held up her palm and shook her head. “Just shut it. Please.” Andrew tried saying something, and y/n just pushed past him, staring ahead coldly, “lets go.”

Her previous attitude about this party had returned. She was mad and couldn’t be more bothered to attend. A tiny part, deep in her heart, ached and pulsed wildly. She wasn’t really sure how the night would end, and she didn’t like that. She wanted to know that by 10, she’d be falling asleep after a bubble bath, or reading a book safely in her bed. 

Not drinking and partying with nobody she knew (none of her friends-the little she had- were going). And she was damn sure that Andrew wouldn’t stick around the entire night. No, he’d be eager to be at all places at once, included in all the action. All. The. Action. 

They walked to Andrew’s car in silence, she strutting and fuming with attitude, and he, with his head bowed and cowering like a shunned puppy. Sure, he was older, bigger, taller, buffer than y/n, but when she was mad, he became a scurrying mouse who bent at her command. Not because she was mean or anything like that, but because Andrew loved her and he wanted to see her with a smile, and he figured listening to her was the first step. 

So, he shut the fuck up, and followed behind her, listening closely in case she ordered something else.  To clarify, y/n didn’t order. She said things. But Andrew (again) loved her and took those sayings very seriously. It wasn’t like she was the Wicked Witch of the West with a whip in her hand. It was more like she was a disappointed mother, and he her kid who loved his mom and didn’t want her to be upset at him anymore. Their dynamic was like that. 

Not even a full 10 minutes later, Andrew was pulling into Jason’s driveway, and pulling into his six-car garage, next to Kent’s car. Pulling the key out of the ignition, he sat for a moment, not turning to look at his sister. 

He didn’t have to. 

Without glancing at him, she said, “I want a margarita... please.” Then, she turn to look at him with a tiny smile; a piece offering. She’s forgiven him. And she has. Well, she wasn’t angry at him to begin with, but her irritation is gone.

Andrew laughed, his head thrown back and his ha, ha, ha’s bellowing. “Yes, ma’am. Strawberry or Mango?”

“Both.” Y/n opens the door to the car, and walks through the garage door that leads to the house. The doorway opens into the kitchen, where Kent and Jason are seated on the kitchen isle, a blunt mid-pass from Jason to Kent.

She stops in her tracks, eyes wide at the smell, and the smoke exiting in grey ropes out of Jason’s lips. Andrew pushes past her like nothing, and opens the steel fridge to look for fruit. Jason grins, a slow and lazy spread of his spit-slicked lips. Kent coughs after he inhales.

“Hellooo y/n,” Jason sing-song’s, drawing out her name and laughing. Kent snickered.

“Long time to,” Kent makes a c-shape with his hand, “see,” and bursts out laughing.

“Gimme some of that, dickheads.” Andrew makes a ‘come here’ motion with his fingers.

Y/n fakes a gasp, and hoists herself up onto the counter. She’s been surprised, and a tiny part of her itches because marijuana is a drug, but she can’t really do anything to stop them. They’re half gone and if she said something, she was a party pooper. Tucking her legs underneath herself, she takes a long look at Jason’s kitchen. She’s been in it plenty of times before, when his mom invites her and her brother other for dinner, or breakfast. She’s even helped prepare meals.

But it never gets old.

It always look bright, the lights on the ceiling shine in a way that fills the space, and the reflection off the cream marble glint against the steely surfaces of all the appliances. Toaster, fridge, sink, stove, all a grey color. There was an oven built into the wall, and another right next to it to cook pizza or bread. The kitchen isle in the middle was 7 steps long (she counted once) and 4 steps wide. There was a stove on the counter, and a sink next to it. Jason sat next to the stove, and Kent in the alcove that stretched and transformed into the sink up against the wall.

“... bringing booze and 6, and says he’s got Snopp Dog as DJ. Ben is on back up DJ, or alternate if Snopp wants to.” Kent says, coughing and waving a hand in front of his hand as he does so. Y/n’s ears perk up at his revelation, and her head turns in a peculiar motion.

“Wait, wait, did you say Snoop Dog?” She says, the top half of her body leaning forward. Andrew looks up from his task at the blender, dunking in cut strawberries with ice.

“You heard right, sissy. Snoop Dog!” whooped Andrew, pumping his arm in the air.

“Jesus Christ,” Y/n murmured underneath her breath, shaking her head.

“Raise your hand if you’re staying to fix this place up tomorrow,” said Jason, lifting both of his arms up in the air.

Kent crosses his arms as if he were in a straight jacket, and Andrew laughs and says, “Jason the party keeps going tomorrow.” He presses a button, and the machine starts blending, the loud noise blocking out whatever Jason said next. Whatever it is, Andrew and Kent catch it and bend over laughing, while y/n just watched in confusion.

Once the machine stops, Andrew pours the thick, pink substance into a sugar-rimmed glass, and gives it to his sister. Y/n takes it from him, and looks over at all the ingredients next to the machine because she hadn’t seen what kind of alcohol he put in it. She sees a squat bottle with a green sticker and a cork top; Ciroq.

It’s when she’s puckering her face after her first sip, that the first group of people come in. Andrew and Kent spring forward to answer the door, and Jason just watched them push each other to see who would get there first. Her and Jason are alone in the kitchen, and even though she sees perfectly clear where Kent and Andrew are, she seizes this as her chance to ask Jason what may be her only chance for a stress free night.

Climbing down, she walks over to where Jason sits,and poked his jean clad thigh. “Jason?” She tries not to let her eyes linger on the spots where his plain white shirt pulls tight across his chest, his pectoral muscles rippling. His blonde hair is unruly today, parting down the middle so strands of hair glittered in front of his green eyes.

“Mmm-oh! Yes?” He said, his eyes blinking owlishly at her, slow reflexes when you’re high and all that.

“Is it okay if I lock myself in your room? Or a guest room? Please, I just d-” she started to explain herself when he interrupted her.

“Yes.” Jason placed his hand on her shoulder in a comforting manner, his eyelids drooping a little further than they already were.

“Yes?” She asked, surprised.

“Yes. Si. Oui. Andrew told me what your mom did. And I’m sorry. You can lock yourself in my room. I’m the only one with the key.” He said. Jason stretched, yawning and raising his hands over his head, the bottom of his shirt raising up and revealing the hard lines of his abdomen, the two lines that form a ‘v’; a make shift runway to what lies underneath the waistband of his pants. Y/n, having seen only one other penis, a leaked celebrity’s nudes, is surprised to see that Jason’s doesn’t have a ‘happy trail’.

Clearing her throat, she said, “Thank you. I’m going up there now, okay?” Y/n backed out of the kitchen, Jason’s nodding at her and turning his attention, and what a surprise this is, the blondes that had just walked in with a few dudes who carried packs of beers in their arms. The girls, five of them, all looked like barbie dolls in bikinis.

Rolling her eyes, y/n trudged up the stairs and walked down the hall to Jason’s all-to familiar room. She entered again, into the place she had mulled over many nights in a row.

Jason’s room would be her sanctuary, like it had been that one rainy spring day.

It was just like she remembered it.

For a teenage boy, Jason was very neat. He had a bamboo four poster bed, with Japanese art covering the space above his puffed-up white pillows. His comforter was the same eggshell color of his walls. In front of his bed he had a record player, and a wooden box with records in it. He had a mahogany bookshelf as well, every crevice stacked with books, straight across, and sideways in the spaces between books and the self above it. His room faced the backyard, and y/n had a clear view of the pool and the people that gathered around it. Jason had a window ledge large enough that he could sleep in it comfortably, and judging by the looks of it, he had. There was a tartan quilt and quilt laid out messily on the expanse of it, a book titled Norwegian Wood open with the pages-side down next to the pillow.

His room smelled like him too. No clothes lay scattered in any place, but his scent permeated the room. Sandalwood and vanilla; his musky and sweet scent of boy.

Y/n kicked off her shoes at the foot of Jason’s bed, and set her barely-even-touched margarita on his bedside table, next to a pair of clear lens glasses. That’s funny, she thought, I didn’t know Jason wore glasses.

She tucked herself into his bed, lifting the comforter out of its tucked position, and nestled tightly into the warm cocoon. Taking a deep breath or Jason, her eyes shut themselves, and snapped back open seconds later. Did I lock the door?

Fuck. No, she didn’t. She had to get back up and lock it. Jiggled the knob for extra measure, just to make sure it was locked.  Once she was satisfied,she returned to the bed, and tucked herself in. Her eyes were closing once again, when the thrum of the bass in whatever rap song it was blaring the house, shook through Jason’s room.

No matter. She was out like a light not even 5 minutes later, Lulled to sleep by the smell of Jason.

.

.

.

Jason, Kent, and Andrew were having the time of their fucking lives.

Andrew had forgotten all about y/n after Jason told him she was in his room, and had downed a total of 6 body shots, all on different people. He lost track of how many people took shots on him. Cloud nine, this is what cloud nine is. He was everywhere and nowhere. Try looking for him and you’ll only catch his shirt-tail because he was already moving on to the next scene. If you saw a flipped red solo cup, then he had been there. He was absolutely reveling in the mass of sweating bodies. His yelling inn the cafeteria had paid off.

Everyone and their fucking mom came. He’d seen everyone he knew from school, and twice the amount of people he knew from school that he didn’t recognize. True to his word, his friend had brought Snoop fucking Dog, and he was up by the pool, dj-ing with five towering giants surrounding him. This only brought more attention. The party had spread out to the streets.

Kent was out of his mind, with how high he was. Don’t tell his mom, but he didn’t know what drug it was making it look like the guy passing the blunt had an elephant head. The lights made him feel like he was in a galaxy, sitting on the rings of Saturn with two topless babes under his arms. He sat with a ring of boys in the den, where you couldn’t see past your nose with how much smoke there was in the air.

And Jason? Shit, Jason was having a really hard time getting his dick up. He was in the pool with more than TWENTY topless babes he was supposed to be boning. It was his birthday after all. Andrew had posted a sign on the shallow end of the pool that said ‘only naked babes allowed’, and would appear every five seconds to remind said ‘babes’ to “TAKE YOUR TOP OFF!!!”

No matter how hard he tried, Jason just couldn’t get hard. The girl who pressed her tits in his face- a real 10 really, with bee stung lips and all- was starting to get confused, and Jason was starting to feel like a real tool.

There he was, his party was crazy, police having been chased off, a racoon being passed around on a leash, Snoop Dog having a literal concert inn his backyard, and far off in the distance there was the shinning light of a news helicopter. And he wasn’t having it.

He did for the first hour. Did some shots, smoked more weed, grinded on some people, got grinded on. Someone had inflated a whole-ass bouncy castle next to his garage, and it was filled with nothing but naked girls (which also did nothing for him). And it was fun seeing it build up. It gave him a bit of a heady adrenaline rush, knowing that ll these people where there because-

“So are you gonna let me give the birthday boy, his birthday present?” said the girl who was topless on his lap, her voice sultry and velvety smooth. She was licking a stripe up Jason’s throat, her hips swiveling against his groin.

Jason, still wearing his clothes, jeans and white shirt and all, looked up at his bedroom window, and what he saw made his heart crack in two. Y/n, his precious y/n, was looking at him with horror, tears painting her cheeks not unlike the way they had yesterday in the hallway, and a hand cupped over her mouth. The other hand was lifted up to her ear, and Jason saw that her mouth was moving.

She was on the phone.

He started to feel dirty, like slime. Guilty, was more like it. He realized then that the reason why he couldn’t get hard is because the girl in his lap wasn’t y/n. And seeing her, in his room all alone and in pain, made him feel like scum.

Pushing the girl off without remorse, he said, “No, I don’t think so.” He ignored the girl’s protests, and also whatever the hell Andrew yelled after him. Jason looked straight ahead, striding with intention to his room. It was difficult, with all the bodies and high-fives and bro-slaps he had to give on his way up the stairs, but he made it. He was dripping all over his floor, but he made it.

He hesitated, placing a hand on the door. As the bass of This is How We Do It vibrated through the wall and against his hand, he wondered what would happen when he opened the door. He wanted to console her. Ask her what was wrong, even though he had a large inkling he knew why she was upset- that it might’ve been his fault.

Jason dug his hand into his pocket, using his fingers to peel apart the cloth because it stuck together, and felt for the key to his room. Once he found it, he fed it through the lock, and turned it, the door giving away a sliver to which he was able to peek inside.

Y/n was on the phone. She was sitting at his window ledge, on her knees, still looking out. She hadn’t heard him coming in. Shutting the door closed behind him, Jason held his breath and listened.

“Am I an idiot?” she squeaked, sniffling to the other person on the line. “Why? Well, isn’t it clear. Donna, he’s constantly surrounded by all these skinny, tall blondes, and I’m not like that.”

Jason’s eyes widened. His heart felt as if an arrow had been shot through it.

“I’m so stupid, really. How could I ever think-”

Yes, yes?

“-that Jason could like me?”

He was appalled. Frozen in his tracks, because god did she really think like that? How could she not realize it. She was so precious; all Jason ever though about. If only she knew. If only she knew-

Well, the thing is- and it might be the weed talking, but- she could know. Jason didn’t have to keep it from her anymore. He could tell her. Fuck it. Fuck it all.

“Y/n?” He said. Clearly, not loud enough because she didn’t turn around. He walked to her, close enough that his knees pressed against the ledge of the window seat, and close enough so that he could grab her wrist.

She yelped, surprised, and whipped her head around. When she saw it was Jason, even though he was smiling a dopey, sweet smile that made her want to fall into a puddle, her face fell into one of mortification. He took the phone from her hand and hung up, tossing it on the pillow.

 “Oh, y/n.”

“Jason, I-” Her cheeks flushed. Her words died in her throat, her tears frozen on her lips.

“I like you, y/n. More than you know.” And his clothes were wet sure, but it didn’t matter because fuck. Fuck it all. Jason pulled her up, wrapped a hand around her waist, and kissed her.

A soft, gentle, press of his lips against hers, their noses bumping. She squeaked and tensed, her fingers squeezing his biceps. His thumb rubbed circled to the sliver of skin that peeked from the place where her shirt rode up.

He pulled away from her, and she leaned forward with her own lips puckered, whining because he pulled away.

“I’ve been wanting to do that, for so long, you know?” He told her, placing her back down on the ledge, while she stared back up at him dreamily.

“Why didn’t you?” she asked him.

“Because Andrew would beat me to a pulp,” he said, laughing. “But it doesn’t matter anymore.” Jason reached for the bottom of his shirt, and pulled it over his head, y/n watching with cheeks flaming at the way his skin rippled and tightened with every movement. After a beat she says,

“Why’s that?”

“Because I’d rather get beaten to a pulp, than be away from you any longer.”

super proud of this. THERE WILL BE A PART 2!!

much love, -abigail

[twriteskpop]

ADRENALINE (Jungkook AU x OC )

The silence of Delilah's apartment was the welcome letter to the thoughts penetrating her sleepless mind. Between work and the drama she had escaped from not too long ago,  she had plenty to think about.  However,  Delilah was tired of letting the poisonous brain seep into every gyrus her brain had. A year ago she would have just smoked marijuana and used that as a sort of pest control for trauma. She'd given that up after she moved back to Florida,  calling it a cleansing.  392 days of the protruding thoughts finally caught up to her. Tempted by her neighbors that she grew close to,  she held strong.  They had offered her the green substance many times considering they were never sober,  except in slumber.  The neighbors reminded Delilah of Dank and Dabby from the Netflix series Disjointed. They were always high on marijuana, were comical,  but had hearts of gold. They lived in the apartment beside her and were friendly with her from the day she moved in, 392 days before.

Delilah was strong, but even Superman had his weakness. Superman had kryptonite,  Delilah had her thoughts. She needed them to go away even for a brief period of time.  

Delilah pushed the salad bowl off of her lap and onto the coffee table. She picked up her phone and began texting her neighbors. Instantly,  she got a response. Bennet and Clarissa were two kind hearted people who became two of the only people Delilah could call friends and they were well aware of this,  so they kept an eye out for her. This included always being available to talk.  

It was no shock to Delilah as her phone buzzed and Clarissas name popped up on her screen.  She clicked open her phone and read the grey bubble: Hey D!  Btw, our dog climb over to ur balcony again? Delilah pushed herself off of the couch and walked over to her sliding glass door.  For what seemed to be the tenth time this month,  the golden Retriever had been laying on her empty balcony,  enjoying the cool weather. The balconies were connected by one wall that was waist high for a 5'3 person.  It may have not been the best architecture but she didn't expect any less for how cheep the rent was. Delilah reached over the wall and knocked on the glass door. Clarissa came walking out eating what looked to be a triple chocolate chip cookie. Delilah smiled at her taller friend and pointed to the ground,  "Tuck likes my balcony more,  apparently." Clarissa finished the last bite of her cookie and asked for Delilah to meet her in the breezeway.  

Delilah beckoned Tuck inside her apartment and out the front door where Clarissa had been waiting.  Tuck sat beside Clarissa as she spoke,  "thanks girl. We have some cookies we made,  some without… you know, we made those ones just for you.  We were going to bring them in the morning but then you texted. Speaking of,  what did you need?" Delilah took a deep breath and smiled up at her neighbor,  she must have just retouched her bright red hair because it looked more like a fire truck on this day,  than ever before.  "I would actually like one of the special cookies.  And a number… to your supplier. If that's okay?" Clarissa flicked a brow up at her in suspicion.

"You a narc now?" She scrunched her perfectly arched brows. Delilah shook her head,  letting out a slight chuckle,  "I'm starting to forget why I quit in the first place." Clarissa frowned and pulled out her phone. She typed frantically and Delilah felt a buzz in her pocket.  "Thanks," Delilah smiled. Clarissa went inside her own apartment and put the dog inside,  returning soon after with a Tupperware bowl of cookies.

"The wrapped ones are the special. We were about to start a movie if you wanted to come over?" Clarissa informed,  leaving her apartment door open just enough for them to enter.  However,  Delilah was exhausted and had an opening shift at the diner so she politely declined. She walked back into her apartment,  placing the cookies on the counter,  unwrapping the marijuana one and went to lay down.  The cookies smelled rich of cocoa and were soft at the first bite. She could hardly taste the thc,  which means it was very well made,  and with every bite she felt like her tongue was sitting in a bath of chocolate.  It was heaven.

Clarissa and Bennet were Delilahs first friends when she moved back,  and became like family over the year.  They hung out multiple times a week and always did favors for each other.  She knew she could pay for the cookies in dog sitting later.  

It took twenty minutes of mindless scrolling through Instagram for the thc to kick in and slowly,  and quietly,  she fell asleep.

For the first time in months,  Delilah woke up to the sound of her bird song alarm without wanting to throw her phone through the glass window. She woke up refreshed.  She sat up from her bed,  walked over to her shower and began getting ready for the day.  She works in a 50's style diner with a perverted boss named Tim,  so her uniform was a short poodle skirted dress,  50's style shoes,  and hair in a high pony with a matching bow. It was a cute uniform,  but the sexual harassment that came as an accessory was not.

She got into her yellow '67 Volkswagen Beatle and drove the thirty minutes to work, without the touch of dread she normally had about going to work at six in the morning.  

The roads were empty,  and so was the parking lot.  Only three cars were in the employee spots,  including hers.  She felt some relief that the chef was beside the owners car,  this would mean Tim wouldn't be able to harass her too much this morning.

She walked into the checkered, from wall to floor, diner.  She was greeted by the familiar smell of coffee,  maple bacon,  and sweet pancakes. She punched in her ID number on the tablet in the back,  then made her way to the front of the kitchen,  tying her apron around her waist.  She knew Tony was going to be in his usual spot at the grill,  working on making plates for the staff before opening at 6:30.  Tony was a tall,  buff,  Italian man who had a thick new york-italian accent. His hair was gelled back and he fit every stereotype anyone could think of when it comes to an Italian-american, which he would gladly tell anyone.

Tony passed her a plate,  smiling per usual. "You have so much energy in the morning.  I'm envious," Delilah smiled,  pulling a fork from the tray. She bit into a dry pancake,  savoring the natural sweetness. She then moved on to a slice of bacon before hitting start on the coffee machines. Tony glanced at her with a side-eye,  "someone's actually eating the food I make for her?  Is the world ending?  I better tell ma!" Delilah poured herself a cup of coffee and lifted a brow at him,  "Tony,  I eat." He chuckled,  shaking his head while flipping the linked sausage,  "I have known you for… what?  A year now?  You take baby bites of everything and say you're full. Ma says you're tryna be skinny when I tell her all about it.  It hurts my feelings you know?  You're a beautiful lady!  Thin as a twig I'd say-" He was rambling,  but cut off by Tim walking through the swinging black kitchen doors. "Open in five," The blonde,  heavyset man in his late 30's smiled at the sight of Delilah,  "hey hot stuff. Mrs. Marigold is already at her table. Coffee." Delilah brushed off the comment and poured the sweet grey haired woman a cup of coffee.  She was a regular,  so Delilah knew she would want exactly three spoons of sugar and a splash of sweet cream.

The hours of the morning shift had passed and Delilah was soon to be off work.  Tim was full of inappropriate remarks and gropings per usual,  making this day just like any other.  When she got off work,  she climbed into her Volkswagen and pulled out her phone. She opened the message from Clarissa the night before.

Delilah hesitated as she copied and pasted the number into her text message bar. Being medicated last night made sleeping easier,  and even boosted her mood this morning but it made her feel numb. Being numb had it's ups but it caused a lot of downs prior to her decision to quit.  Sure marijuana stopped her from thinking and it wasn't a heavy drug so she could still have mild thoughts,  but some things she should have thought about,  she impulsively did because she was high. However,  smoking was more responsible than drinking because she was able to think and could remember everything. She hasn't ever been a real drinker,  but people close to her were and she would tell you that she's seen people worse off drunk,  than high.

After ten minutes had passed of just staring at the screen,  she began typing the number,  making her final decision.

Hello,  I got your number from Clarissa S. Can you meet today?  

Her engine roared to life and she shifted her gear into drive. The radio was softly playing today's pop hits from Spotify linked to her phones Bluetooth. The Orlando afternoon traffic was irritating to most people,  but she had no where to be except home.  So as she drove,  weaving in and out of lanes,  letting tourists with out of state plates pass her at any opportunity,  she began to think of the bad decisions she made by simply being high.  Numb to dumb,  as she called it several times.  She had never done anything criminal,  but definitely ended up in several dangerous situations. It was not enough to get her to change her mind now.  She enjoyed the sleep she got and Tim's harassment had not bothered her too much today,  all because of the sleep last night.  It was a butterfly effect she wanted to feel again.  

As she pulled into the parking lot of her apartment complex, she heard the phone ping in the passenger seat. She parked in her usual spot, next to the stairs of her building, and reached to read the notification.

I can meet in 15 min at Bill Fredrick park. Text me when you get there. First time meetings are in public. See you then. JK

------------------- A/N I'm so happy to be back.  I've been writing on a different account and I've definitely improved.  😌 PLEASE Leave feedback if you want! I love tips too!  I have big plans for this.  

-T

[jacksgreysays]

946. 'You and I will never / be a great love story. / That's ok! / Let's see what kind / of story we'll be. / (Oooh! Oooh! I hope it's science fiction!)' KibaxShikako

You and I will never be a great love story.That’s okay!Let’s see what kind of story we’ll be.(Oooh! Oooh! I hope it’s science fiction!)

—

(Never Lookin’ To Come Back)

“Again?” Shikako says, stepping out from the shadowed cover of the ship, “You don’t get hazard pay for starting a fight with a bunch of civilians.”

Kiba’s hackles don’t quite rise–never against her, not after what they’ve been through–but he does scowl something fierce, “It’s my shore leave, cap'n, I can spend it how I want.”

Akamaru, the traitor, wags his tail at the sight of her, whining a plaintive request to stop this whole disaster in the making.

“And what are you doing bringing Akamaru?” she asks, crouching down to scrub at his ears, “They don’t serve ninken on this rock, and it’s not fair to make him clean up your mess when he can’t even have fun, too.”

Akamaru barks an agreement.

“Get on back inside,” she says to him, head jerking toward the gangway, “I’ll deal with this idiot.”

He goes, claws clacking against the metal of the ramp as he heads back inside the ship.

Shikako stands up, meeting Kiba’s eyes in a familiar way that almost makes him want to bare his throat, “I’m not here to lecture you.”

“Sure feels like it.”

She rolls her eyes, “Come on,” she says, walking away, the tails of her long brown coat flapping behind her, “let’s get drunk and fight some Rooters.”

—

There’s a difference between being a part of Konoha and being a Rooter: the first is like a pair of shoes, too tight and constantly chafing, blisters forming, and yet unable to take them off.

The second is a knife to the back.

They’re not the same, and of course the latter is far worse, but it’s terribly easy to stab someone if they can’t run away, isn’t it?

—

On the bucket of bolts that is their ship, there are the following:

Two “reformed” brown coats whose ferry and delivery service may or may not include smuggling contraband.

Two mercenaries for hire who have never so much as killed a single person between them and have accidentally inspired, on more than one occasion, cult followings about their heroic deeds.

One mechanic from a far off moon who swears that no matter how talented she is, the ship is going to crash without a replacement grav unit, she means it this time.

One Organization member who rents the starboard shuttle and might be a high class escort or possibly an assassin, the jury’s still out on that one.

One Teacher of the Will of Fire who knows a suspicious amount about the inner workings of Konoha and is far more connected than a man who has given up his last name should be.

And one ninken who is way too skilled at opening locked doors, that food’s not for you, damnit Akamaru, spit it out.

On a somewhat fairly routine smuggle and ferry, their number goes up by two.

—

The four core planets of Konoha were Aburame, Akimichi, Hyuuga, and Uchiha.

During the Uprooting, the planet of Uchiha was destroyed, the blame pinned on the rebellion.

Whether they believed it or not, the tragedy galvanized the other three core planets into putting their full power behind bringing a swift end to the war...

... and Root, the jingoist half of what remains of the Senju Administration, filled the gap of the fourth power in Konoha.

—

“Go get me some passengers,” Shikako commands, waving an imperious hand out towards the town they’ve landed near. It’d be more impressive if she weren’t curled over face down on the table, awkwardly trying to eat porridge without lifting her head.

Regardless, it’s not exactly a new or surprising sight, not after the years of being her XO and the year before that of being her lieutenant. Still funny as hell, but not unexpected.

“Aye, aye, cap'n,” Kiba shoots back, not moving from his seat whatsoever. Akamaru huffs a doggy laugh, nosing upward for some rehydrated meat substance.

“I have to get some parts,” TenTen says, ignoring their captain’s disgraceful posture and petulant groaning, “I think I can make do with the current rotator belt, but the grav unit won’t survive another atmo crossing, captain.”

Shikako grunts.

“And I’m running low on duct tape,” TenTen adds, which, apparently, makes the request of vital importance: the credits are dispensed immediately.

“Lee, go with her. Now everyone leave me alone, I’m trying to eat.”

Four hours later, Naruto returns with a small herd of passengers practically throwing money at him–thankfully, after Kiba already stowed the contraband away, otherwise that’d be a disaster–and Lee and TenTen return with a different grav unit, a crate of duct tape, and a suspiciously posh looking man with suspiciously large luggage looking for a quick and discrete way off the planet who is willing to pay five times the rate. Suspiciously.

“We need the money,” Shikako mutters.

“I’m not saying we don’t,” Kiba argues, “I’m just saying that we definitely don’t need the trouble that comes with it.”

“Oh, now you’re worried about trouble?” she asks, a sardonic eyebrow raised.

“This is a different kind of trouble,” he says, nose wrinkling, “I can smell it.”

“How bad can it be?”

—

The daughter of the chancellor of the planet Hyuuga is missing.

Kidnapped, all official reports say.

It is a very bad kind of trouble.

~

A/N: Presenting the brand new ‘verse, Never Lookin’ To Come Back, a FireflyxDoS fusion featuring a Kiba/Shikako relationship that can be romantic or platonic–it’s up to the readers to decide for themselves.

So… the ratio of Kiba/Shikako to worldbuilding perhaps wasn’t the highest it could have been, but I got carried away with trying to adapt the Firefly ‘verse into a fusion with DoS. Which I think is totally an acceptable excuse?

Anyway, what should I name the spaceship?

Number + Character/Ship + (optional) AU –> my ask box

[If anyone else wants to do a softer world prompt that isn’t on the list, you can just send the page id number for the original comic instead.]

[becuzpurple]

It’s a One-Shot!

No actual Sexy Times occur, but there is some nakedness - sadly, it’s not Ed’s. My sincere apologies.  It’s mostly fluff and silliness.  :-)

I hope everyone likes it!

Without further ado…

ICY HOT - A One-Shot

What was I thinking?  I’m so stupid…

I can totally do this, I thought.  It will be fun, I thought.

Except I could not do it, and it was not fun at all.  It was hell.  

It was just a stupid Pilates class - I thought it would be easy.  I’m a former nationally-ranked gymnast, for Christ’s sake.  OK, that may have been years ago…but I’m in pretty decent shape…I think.  I mean, I still run.  I thought I was pretty limber.  But I apparently have “poor core stability.“  Whatever that means. Hmph.

I pulled into the driveway, turned off the ignition, and just sat in the car for a few minutes, the back of my head leaning on the headrest.  I didn’t want to move - my muscles had already started stiffening up during the 10 minute car ride home.  I was sore everywhere, but my upper back and my ass were feeling particularly awful.  My body definitely wasn’t used to the kind of workout that Pilates involved.  

Damn.

I eventually made my way inside, and headed directly for the shower.  It was a weekday, near noon, and no one was home.  

I’d been standing under the spray of water, just savoring the sensation of it beating down on my sore body, when I heard the bathroom door open.

“Hey, I’m back.”

“Hi.  I’m dying.  I’ll be out in a bit.”

He pulled the shower curtain over and peeked in at me, his eyes roaming appreciatively up and down my body.

“You don’t look like you’re dying.”

“I had my first Pilates class.  And I’m definitely dying.  I’m going to lather up with some Icy Hot once I’m done in here, and then I’m not moving ever again.”

“Sexy.”

“I’m telling you…”

“Want help with that?”

“With what? The Icy Hot?”

He raised his invisible brows up-and-down at me in a comical attempt at lewdness.

I stood there, naked and soaking wet and so, so sore, rolling my eyes at him as I tried to suppress the grin that was threatening to give away my amusement.

“Sure, that would be great.  Thank-you. But this is not going to turn into a sex thing.  I can barely move.  And Icy Hot would feel awful in certain places.”

“OK.”  He leaned in and quickly kissed me.  “I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

Ten minutes later I exited the bathroom wrapped in a towel.  I’d combed and toweled my hair, but it was still wet.  I handed the tub of Icy Hot to Ed and took off the towel and laid it out on the bed.  Then I laid down upon it, face down, completely naked.

“I’m ready.”

“Be right there,” he answered softly from across the room.  A few seconds later I heard the beginning notes of the “And Winter Came” album by Enya floating softly through the room.

He climbed up on the bed and unscrewed the lid from the tub as he sat on his knees, straddling my thighs.

“Where are you sore?”

“Everywhere…”

“You want me to rub this stuff everywhere?”  

“No, maybe just my shoulders and back…and my ass.”

“Your bum is that sore, then?”

“Fucking burns like a motherfucker.”

A surprised gasp of a laugh burst from him.  “I guess so?”

“You have no idea.”

I couldn’t see him, since I was laying face down on the bed, but I just knew he was silently laughing at me.

“C’mon, it’s not funny!  You try doing Pilates and see how funny it is when you can barely move afterwards.”

“Sorry.  You’re just almost never this grumpy.”

I heard him unscrew the lid, and a few seconds later he was smearing the cold, goopy balm over my shoulders and upper back.  The coolness of it was slightly startling.  

I usually prefer deep pressure back-rubs.  Since I was already so sore, though, I needed a lighter touch.  I still wanted to feel some pressure, but nothing like I usually prefer.   Ed seemed to instinctively know that without having to ask me, and he applied the perfect amount of pressure to my achy body.  I closed my eyes and enjoyed the beautiful music and the amazing feeling of his hands on me, applying the cool, menthol-infused cream all over.

“Is this OK?”

“Mmm-hmmm…” I breathed out.

Between the warmth of his fingers massaging my skin and the Icy Hot doing its thing and heating up, I was feeling so relaxed I almost could have fallen asleep.

But then his hands moved down to my bottom, and I was instantly hyper-alert.

After a few nice, firm caresses, his hands disappeared from my skin for a few seconds, only to return with more of the cool, menthol-y balm.  He began massaging it in, and it soon covered all of my backside.

I know that he has a “thing” for my ass - he’s never been shy about that.  Part of me wishes I could have watched him while his hands were on me, because I have a feeling he was enjoying it just as much as I was.  He was being very attentive and very thorough, using a combination of finger-tips, thumbs, palms, and knuckles to work out all of the tension in my muscles.  It felt wonderful.  

I’m low-key turned on pretty much at all times when I’m around Ed, especially when he touches me.  And this situation was no exception.  I mean, I was naked, he was straddled over my legs with a very close direct view of my ass, and his hands were all over it.  Unfortunately, they were also covered in Icy Hot, which severely limited anything else he could touch.

Fuck.

Without any forethought, I found myself starting to arch my back and move my hips a little bit - up into his hands, seeking out…something.

“You enjoying this?”  I could actually hear him smiling.

“Mmmm-hmmm.”

You like my hands on your arse, yeah?”

“Yeah.  Feels good.”  

“Too bad I can’t put them anywhere else.”

I groaned in frustration and he just quietly laughed at me.  “Don’t blame me.  You’re the one who laid out that rule.  Not that I disagree - in theory.”

I took a sighing breath.  “I know.  Doesn’t mean I’m happy about it, though.”

We were quiet for another minute or so.  He brought his hands to my hips then, and began to lightly smooth his hands over them, from my waist to my thighs, and then up, slowly repeating the action.  

“You have the prettiest bum I’ve ever seen.”  His voice was low and soft, and hearing those words come from his made the butterflies in my stomach take flight.  I was officially putty in his hands.

I was honestly so turned on by then and squirming fretfully and wanting to be touched in 100 other places.

DAMN YOU, ICY HOT.

He held me by my hips to keep me from fidgeting too much.

“Down, girl.”

“Hey!”  I brought a hand back to the middle of my back and flipped him off.

He wasn’t even trying to hide his laughter anymore.  “Sorry.  That was rude of me.”  He gave each of my butt cheeks a light smack.  “All done.”

After he climbed off of me I turned around and sat up to face him.  I still felt sore, but it was much less so than before.

“OK.  Put your hands out like this.”  I held up both of my hands, palms facing out, just to the sides of my shoulders.  He mirrored my pose, and I grabbed hold of his wrists.

“What’s this?”

“Just making sure you don’t touch me,” I explained, sidling closer to him.  

He blinked a few times at me curiously, but was more than willing to see what I was about.

I kissed him then - first with short, sweet pecks to his full lips, then the corners of his mouth.

“Thank-you,” I murmured in between kisses.

“For what?” he muttered into my mouth.

I laughed softly into his mouth before leaving another kiss.  “For the Icy Hot.”  Then I left a small nibble on his lower lip.  “And the massage.”

I pulled away and saw that his eyes had zeroed in on my boobs.  

“Hey.  Up here,” I grinned, releasing his hands and gesturing to my face.

He let his hands drop to his lap as he slowly dragged his eyes up to mine, smirking the whole time.  “I just thought I’d take a good look…since I can’t touch.”

He leaned his upper body into mine, keeping his hands in his lap, and returned my kisses.  I rested my hands at his hips while we smiled goofy smiles and just enjoyed each other’s closeness.

After a minute or so, his phone started vibrating from his jeans pocket.

“Your pants are vibrating.”

He looked at me meaningfully as he pulled his phone out and shook his head.  “You have no idea.”

He glanced at his caller ID and sighed.

“I have to take this.”  He sounded sad.

“Honey?”

He looked up at me as he was about to answer it.

I was waving my hands in front of me and trying really hard not to laugh.  “No, stop!  I think you just got Icy Hot all over it…”

He looked down at his phone in surprise - as if he’d be able to see the offending substance on it.  His finger was poised just an inch from it.  It stopped buzzing, indicating that he missed the call.  Then he looked up at me, seeming to be both annoyed and amused at the same time.  

“I - I’m sorry.  I just didn’t want you to get it on your face.”

“Oh!  OK, thanks…I need to…I need to call him back…”  He was still holding and staring at his phone.

“Well…wait.  Wash your hands and wipe down your phone, first.  I’ll get dressed and start on some lunch while you’re on your call.”

“Yeah...why the fuck is my brain not working?”  He shook his head and laughed, and then gave me a slightly accusing look.  “I think your nakedness distracted me.”

“Ha - my job here is done,” I uttered softly.  

With a grin, I got up off the bed and started rummaging through my dresser for my underwear.  He watched me for a minute before going to the bathroom to clean up.  Don’t think I didn’t notice the look of admiration he was giving me before he left, though.

“Alright.  I’ll be down for lunch in a little bit, then.”  

“OK,” I answered softly.  “Love you.”

He stopped just before he was about to close the bathroom door, looked back at me curiously, and smiled.  “Love you too, sweet girl.”

[mobianstrip]

sonic forces me to analyze the game

this is by no means a full, in depth review of sonic forces. however, since im working on a Forces au i think its only fitting to talk about my personal gripes with the game. just to be clear, i dont hate sonic forces by any means! there are some really neat concepts about it that i enjoy, which ill include my thoughts on as well! though with that said, theres a lot about it that could have been dealt with better. this post is gonna be a bit long and messy, sorry!

now i cant speak for what the gameplay controls itself are like since i havent actually played it with my own hands, so my primary focus will be the story and general format of the game. everything under the cut!

ill start by saying that in hindsight, i think the general premise of the game is actually really neat (had the war framing of the plot not been so overly glorified and bland. more on that below). eggman taking over most of the world is very reminiscent to the initial circumstance of mobius in the early archie sonic publication. it seems especially reflective of the comic in the fact that sonic forces takes place on a planet setting more akin to that of Mobius than that of Sonic’s World/Earth, the difference being the lack of human beings aside from Eggman. while this does somewhat bother me for the fact that it paints an inconsistency with the setting, im also all for the planet being strictly Mobians + Eggman again tbh. the concept of sonic being on earth populated by humans, complete with a mock version of the united states, never really settled well with me. it always felt like just a means to make sonic more relatable, which is true, but not done because it made anything more interesting. a problem that then arises is that the origins of shadow and silver/blaze would be radically different or at least would need some retcon alterations to make sense...but thats a topic for another day

overall, looking past the inconsistency with the setting and its implications, i enjoy how the premise of the game feels like going back to the basics. but even the premise still has its problems...which is never a good sign, and this point practically sealed forces’s fate of inconsistency: the theme of war and how it frames the story is so, so poorly written

starting with whats presented at the beginning of the game, sonic is captured by eggman as a prisoner. if the writing had just left it at that, fine. however, the exposition goes on to say that sonic has been there for six months being tortured...and that tails has completely lost it. again id be fine with this - the theme of war is a darker one so these two events would make sense in this circumstance. however, that tension is just totally lost in a matter of a few episodes. you rescue sonic who is just as cheery and jokey as ever, somehow able to fight a boss despite being supposedly locked away and tortured for six months

of course i understand that its not like they could give sonic ptsd and make him look tortured and weak and so on - but why even mention the torture thing at all? the same problem is apparent with the first cutscene with tails. tails is hardly given enough time to seem like he has "lost it". i will say though that tails WAS given a bit more of an emotional response to work with than sonic overall. particularly when tails is about to be attacked by chaos, and he ducks his head in fear and calls for sonic to help him even though sonic isnt there - i actually enjoyed this small segment bc it does reflect some of what was said about how he reacted to sonics capture (aside from also being across the planet...for seemingly no reason except bc he "lost it" and to get him away from the main group so that classic sonic can appear)

frankly speaking from these two points alone, the games tone just feels kind of confused. its obvious the writers wanted some parts of the darker theme of war...and its also obvious that going all out wasnt gonna be an option bc of the nature of sonic as a character and franchise being about more lighthearted, easier to relate to stories about sonics heroism. which im fine with that being the case; sonic is a hero and more importantly a mascot that profits off of kids being able to relate and look up to. my issue is simply that the premise of this game makes consistent writing kind of doomed from the start if the writers are trying to appeal to both the kids AND older fans. they cant go to the lengths necessary to adequately build the narrative. cant go too dark, cant go too lighthearted, and not finding a balance between to two gives you a confused and bland story 

on that note,  i personally find the theme of war to be...uncomfortably glorified and unchecked (adding to the tone confusion and blandness). sonic forces is named so because...yknow. armed forces. armies. the whole point of the game is that theres a war going on and youre on the good guy side. i mean its not as if youre fighting against other living creatures, just infinite and eggmans robots, but still. i think what put me off the most is the first comic with the soldier cat. after they save the day, the last lines are "I'll do better. I'll be better. I'll become a real soldier and a real hero." now slap that as the tagline to a united states army corps commercial and suddenly its really...sour tasting

war is just one of those subjects that i think needs to be handled with a bit more care. i mean think about it: the primary gimmick of forces is that you get to make your own character, to be the sonic version of yourself in this world. the plot of the game is that theres a war, and your character joins the resistance to defeat eggman. this game is pretty blatantly glorifying the idea that joining in on a war can make you a REAL soldier, a REAL hero. to some kids, that might sound pretty cool. but theres no nuance to it whatsoever, nothing thought provoking on the subject. no one steps back to be like ‘its good to do good things but wars are tough and not fun, and being a hero isnt everything’. none-a that

now do i think a sonic game could get it into a childs head that they should join the army for real? no, not necessarily. i think its possible, but i think that would also be due to a larger issue of military glorification present in modern culture in general (especially in america). mostly i just find the implications at play with glorifying the theme of war in conjunction to the avatar gimmick to be in poor taste and also entirely avoidable because...

i dont think the war and army framing even had to be a thing. not only is it just so sloppily done in general, with that fact that the supposed soldier forces on the Resistance side are literally never seen on screen except for some dialogue boxes in one episode and the rest of the time only being mentioned through other characters, but i seriously think never saying the words “war” or “army” and not including literal soldiers would have worked just as well and even been the better route. they could have just been like yeah heres eggman taking over the world, heres the resistance fighters that have come together to stop him, they are opposing forces and you play as your avatar to stop eggman - and just leave it at that. it wouldve made the glorification of war less obvious and the handling of the topics at hand appear less confused, appealing to a more lighthearted tone rather than weighing it down with frankly out of place hints to a darker subject of war

finally i wanna talk about the story as it relates to how its told through the game. the plot itself is fairly standard - eggman starts war, captures sonic, takes over planet. you rescue sonic, and together you fight eggman and infinite and ultimately defeat them. thats all good and well even if its cheesy sometimes. the REAL problem is how its executed. a lot of the exposition is given not through cutscenes, but through spoken dialogue with text box subtitles over the episode select screen. and it just feels so...stiff. it doesnt feel like world building, it just feels like being forcefed information with no substance behind it

i get that fully rendered cutscenes throughout can be expensive and time consuming, but shoot id take in-game rendered cut scenes at least. (like in sa, sa2, shadow 2005...) anything that could have provided the world building with a bit more ground to stand on would have been great. sure, there are levels to traverse which look cool...but they dont provide any sense of scale, they dont tell us what the area is like, and more importantly, you never see the other characters who are supposedly on the battlefield "alongside" you in a couple episodes. the storyline from the exposition along sounds like it could be an epic journey - but the way its told with the given game mechanics (i.e.: stage-based gameplay with no open worlds to explore) leaves a lot to be desired

i feel like the stuff explained in the comics should have just been cutscenes or exposition or something to pad out the game a bit. the comics are so short anyways so why just put it in the game? maybe not the first comic about the rando soldier saving the day or w/e...but the comic with silver and knuckles fighting chaos? the comic about infinites origins? all of that could have easily been included. at LEAST the comic with shadow was part of the DLC...but even thats just so gimmicky. they provide important background to the main plot of this game so i really dont understand why it was sidelined to comics and not just included from the beginning

the tension that the exposition already fails to build up is brought down even worse when coupled with the confusing timing of the stage complete screens, where you get your completion rank and see what new character creation items you unlocked. listen, i know immediate gratification for completing the level is important and all...but i swear, having these screens between the end of a boss fight and the cutscene showing what happens to them after being defeated seriously impairs the flow of the game. maybe having it there allows for the cutscene to load up in the background to improve efficiency, but personally id prefer seeing a loading screen as the break between a boss fight and the following cutscene after it and THEN the stage complete screen to finish the sequence off. the boss fight end cutscenes arent that long anyways for the most part, so its just nonsensical to have the stage complete screen interrupt the action when theres only a two minute scene left to it

i cant stand how streamlined forces is to the point of the main plot. what happened to games that actually take the time to explain stuff, show us extra bits to the story and how they connect? and even when forces' does explain SOME stuff, its through audio/text only dialogue. nothing visually interesting, just...dialogue. and then its off to the next level. forces' feels very bare bones honestly. the story is supposed to feel big and epic but it just wasnt given enough to bring that feeling into fruition. this is probably the only thing that saves forces’ from the war glorification issue because the game simply fails so miserably at telling a compelling story due to poor writing and poor formatting that the war stuff gets lost in the mix - and thats just sad

all of this brings me to my conclusion. fuck i wish sonic forces was a better written and executed game, because i do think it could have been so cool. i really like infinite as a villain, in both his design and personality. yeah hes kind of a whiny, edgy bitch - but he had potential. and its really gonna suck if this game killed off all that potential in one fell swoop

(then again, thats why we have fan content and aus :3)

[la-mise-en-abime]

my heart yearns for you, i never wanted to be comic, i always thought it would be better to be funny in real life and not have to muster it and waste it on stage, and have people be surprised when you weren't as funny in real life, i always found that dissapointing when it happened to me, like that person was an apparition of themselves an empty shell. And wow I've come to realise how sad this existence is, or maybe its just the pattern of believing in your self, there are certainly dips. my heart yearns for you and i think fuck, was i supposed to have gone with you, was i supposed to have been all these things, what if we’d never met. I hope I can separate myself from you and form my own being, we were growing together and were not growing apart yet but maybe i need a change. This year has been weird, so wonderful, and so weird, and now maybe i am feeling the repercussions of your change, i am really feeling what you are feeling as one amoeba, we obviously share a bladder that has been said before so the urinary tract is suffering, but it hurts to feel your mundainity, it hurts to see you in your ordinary pain, your extraordinary pain in your ordinary life, it hurts me to think maybe you are not special, you are not just a special magical spelll that has reeked havoc on my life and make me question what holes i want it in. You are special, but if the world doesn’t notice so and treats you like shit i wont stand by it, ill stand with you, im sure what else I can do, will do. I dont want them spreading. our message so falsely for their own gain, i dont want coffee drunk over us and laughed over us, at our expense and sexual fetishes and smiles and dimples and rude finger gestures and shrugs and pleas and questions and examinations and cuts and bruises and cuts and no questions and spit in your face. Id rather not that thank you, id really rather not. I dont care what i am, just in relation to you always in relation to you. omg the fucking car alarm wont shut the fuck up, please shut the fuck up screaming like a fucking attention seeking cunt shut up, thank you. I was scared they would rape you, im still scared they will rape you, and i dont wants o be subtle anymore, I m scared they will fist you and put things inside you and pull your trousers down and laugh and bend you over a car and fuck you and fuck you hard, and im scared i want that, no i dont but I can imagine it vividly, has it happened somewhere in my memory before. I remember crying very hard over that film boys dont cry in tigers arms, sobbing and gasping like when i used to have tantrums, once a huge one in a video store andi couldn’t breathe i was crying so hard, and my dad said, T everyone can hear you, look they're all looking at you, take a deep breath and bap bap bap like fish inhale all that air and exhale very slowly, (later he said so your mouth looks like an asshole) but fuck those people that were looking at me he just shouldnt have made me fucking cry and it felt good and distressing to cry that much.

when we first met, the first night i called you she so many times when i was talking about you to other people, i had to keep correcting myself like i had terrets or something (that fucking car alarm) she, he, she, he, she, he. You didn't realise you have subsequently told me, but i rememeder it clearly, i was so drunk I could nt get it right, and you were the first trans person i had met knowingly, when you first told me you joked it about it, that seemed to be your method at the time, haha yeah, im basically just becoming a teenager, im about 13 in T years, i was like who is this creature who is telling me this there was subtle tone of vulnerability in how you explained it as if to say please accept this floating skin of myself that rests just above our heads, any sudden movements will frighten it off and i complied with this thing in front of me, kept it floating warily above our heads, as i fell in love with you. but your smile was golden, you were soft like the butches i had seen before, that negative space you *cant couldn’t touch where femininity and masculinity come close but don’t touch. the softness of fat under you shirt and the way you sweat and knowing there was something vulnerable in your pants, something I knew so much of and also nothing. this was stepping into another realm. I felt almost ashamed as if i was leading you on and you were so shiny and soft I knew you wanted more, but i was scared of you. i think i was terrified. of what you represented.

i was so scared of getting it wrong I did the most research ever before i met you again. how to give a clit orgasm , trans porn, top surgery, bottom surgery, fucking buzz feed all to find you somewhere, but you weren't there, you were new born, fresh into this world, thats why it felt like a lie, its affects creep up on you and for a long time you are lying to the world and proving it and i knew so much yet i would blow on your skin and, nothing. as i see you then you were more of a man than ever so pushed into a box, as so much of it is, to parade something you cant even have the grasp of to explain, to someone, your grounding on this earth in a matter of facial muscles and sounds originating from the mouth and lines and lumps in the right place flattened down that could have restricted your breathing as we slept and i said how lovely your back was because you wouldnt take it off you. Wouldn't let me see you like that it could have killed you in your sleep left me kissing a dead back i cant I cant. So for a while I could have been your fairy. your keeper even your comforter i did not exist because you did not hold me back, give yourself to me and**** i asked you in the dark of night do you like being licked out, do you like getting oral sex, do you use dildos, where do you not want me to touch, i thought you didn't want me to put my mouth there because it was wrong, it was weird, overgrown stump of what a pearl was, oh how i was wrong and you loved it and i too, i thought you might want me to suck on that appendage that innocent bystander that plastic thing that was never asked if it wanted to go in the dark place alone with no light, want me to lick it and suck it and look up at you while i did it like in the films, cause i would have done anything to get you off, and i did, but you let me put the overgrown pearl in my mouth let me pull it and suck it and let it rithe in my mouth furry stubborn pearl rolling on the sea bed, under bed under my tongue it would grow and wither and chip into my head visions of another world where I had never been and we would have to take an underground river to get to.

i remember the night it happened in that small space we called a bed the squeaked and the heating sounded like it was having a hight pitched breakdown, i was going to party that was prom themed and dressed up with lipstick over my top lip and all around my mouth and a wig and a dress and the whole time i was getting ready i was thinking of it happening, i was terrified i was going to get it wrong, id never done it, what if i would never get it right cause it wasn't the right genital substance for me, what if it was embaressing and i would have to go home with my tail between my legs not a true lesbian, straight person, person of lesbian tendencies, individual or something, someone that could not give another person what they both wanted to be given. i dont know I really didn't know, all I knew was that i looked fucking brilliant, and no one else was dressed up as per usual, so fuck them, and it gave me that sense of brilliance that everyone is judging you and you dont care.

and now they tell me a changeling is an old fairy that takes the place of a human baby an old stubborn baby that clings onto life promising its youth to all those around it that makes more sense when i call you a changeling when i call you a changeling that has been swapped at birth if only you didn't have a belly button or you had two sets of eye lids, or a second skin, but you do have strange belly button piercing from another life well say its an alien marking it i like putting my finger in it so hairy and soft and i get stapled in the mind when i know you were a teenage girl, and it turns me on and it scares me you will see that in my eyes. it makes sense that the old fairy would have seen the land and its folds to have a sense of knowing the cradle is where it should reside for the rest of its days not shuffle along in the mud with fairy toes all wet. you told me to put my toes in the sand, it felt so wrong and like they were being licked that time, in Edinburgh, a large man in an animal state licked my toes and it felt so good i let go of everything, but it comes so natural to you , to look at the sea and see answers, im almost playing to your state so you feel more comfortable in your natural environment if i am repulsed. the way people do that sometimes in order to appease the other, was it unnatural for me not to be amazed, you do annoy me when you are that pure(goldstar). i look as if i have corrupted you from your chosen path, perhaps you will go back there someday, back to the beach and think of me and you'll be at home cause i wont be teasing you, you'll be done with London and its cruel ways to spit you out with all your teeth and dreams, ill sit up in my high castle and be cold because of the drafts, without my human blanket.  my cold winter feet.

and i want to have your children as long as they are fizzy and rough and have no part in the world they will become hardened to. i want there to be a way, a way that men with answers will give them to us and let me stop googling humiliating shit like can two eggs make a embryo, this is the age of fake news and i dont want to be a fucking victim. (of it) I want the soft place between us soft shell air socket between us to be full with potential and not lacking in our minds because of what ever we've been told needs to be there to build a life. i want it when i rub on the top of your clit, tiny boner, source, of rivers, slowly when you sit on me to really be you inside me or you transporting something in the air to me you don’t have to be inside me i am clever enough, imaginative enough to receive a wish of will. this way is better is better it is this way is better and better for me to lay my body on the sidewalk and shout for it to be this way ill disgrace myself to hold your hand.

its funny the words we use to communicate to each other i call you bitch and slag and squeal at you in the morning i shout in a mad face that the bombs are coming get down the bombs are coming and i tickle you and hit you when you dont hide your face into the cover, i like the helpless tickling noise, your gasping for air and your fucking smile is so framed in everything i could ever ask for. I think im like my dad like that when he screams little baby bird baby bird and picks you up like a child with the body of a huge 50 year old henry the 8th look a like. i dont want anyones approval but it hurts to know some soft states cant be translated into other states some things cant be grasped or explained.

we like to scream bitch after saying things because its like the cartoon rick and morty character who is the nightmare man, that was what got me through the break up and you lay on my lap as we watched, and i sunk my sad claws into that screen hoping the half an hour episodes would sink into one another and back into the whites of my eyes into my brain i could see us watching but i couldn't feel it, but the feeling was slowly coming back like after you burn your fingers with ice cream.

/

im sorry if you are hurt I had to do it i needed to be selfish well all die alone theres nothing more to say i couldn’t put it into words, i am scared of what is coming of the eyes of others im scared I will blame you for what i have doubts. you let me take you there i feel like the guy, there is no guy and I am becoming more comfortable in this position against your skin you can tell when people have copy and pasted ideas im self conscious of your knowing of my lust of your knowing of my want to penetrate you im conscious of my eagerness to do this and im conscious of what this could mean and could not. Im conscious of your body next to mine in the dark room im concious of the splinter in my finger im conscious i must be with out you. Im conscious of my memories past and how they build this encounter how i must hold back things from your view and bring others into the light but they are all there waiting to be shown it is for me to divide(decide). i am concious of you in the dark room when I see the man cry at the sound of a lovers voice from years past i feel the weight of his pain and i cry infant(infront) of you in the dark room full of people, they dont know this they dont understand like i have and i come out the cinema see the shadows of people in my way did they see what i saw i could not believe they were they they do not feel the same they are frauds, I make a swift exit to the toilet so as not to be taunted by these shadows, what is this face i see on leaving the huge and empty lonely *discabled toilet we blush at each other we know who the other is and cannot express the name of the other our mouths are forming round the name both struggling to admit this is happening(the other has a name) both blushing both full with what is delirium from all the crying shed in the dark room the evil son dark species feeder comes out the * bathroom to greet us he too is bleeding red blush and eyes and nose do twist and curve into some uncomfortable shape to fu/fill the space where words should be, and none of us can detect any.

you ask me how i did it. and i think of their mouths on each others genitals for a flash second as they stand close enough to kiss and i think better put that to bed my love. you ask me what did i do. She's taller than I thought im a fucking child a well mannered fucking child the fact my face has been near a dick makes you want to slit my throat, but i cut my tongue off and gave it to you for christmas. i say i sucked my fingers and put them places, and all i want to do is feel and to be shown the different avenues of experience. Im sorry i made that gesture people did it at uni those cuts across the arm in the air a razor blade wiped clean every time wrapped up and hidden in a draw like a battle field my love like a war torn landscape. i fucking hate those people i dont know i could strangle them for their inanety for their very wretched existence on this planet.

of the splinter in my finger at close glance microscopic slow motion as a pick it from my finger and its still sore is there still something in there i will never get out i will always copy in my actions to others be a wooden

fuck the egg fuck the egg fuck the egg and they were all so strange and i was so strange in their company as i am in the meetings of strangers it it where i find myself i find myself there it is my true self when i making things up and there is an atmosphere not yet made but worth polluting and his mother was dying and he saw a drag queen make an omelette and i made my excuses from my lack of anything and you were on a chopping board waiting to be chopped and i was in the hill in the suburb of my mind in my fear of the rape of the suburb and my filming of the fish in the shop window in the night of the suburb* and my mothers words were strong and definite this is something that will affect you and you are lost i am lost lost lost i know it was a losing game to say it was what i could handle was funny and I was laughing as i tried

filming things to take back to you of my existence the evidence of my existence and the world that you could not see. parcels of light

so poorly filmed camera angles all blushing with love

Id love to have been there in that moment, frying pan on the go, quite allot of fat, like chicken breast, must be nice to eat feed someone something from your own body. penis

im sorry i was full when you wanted to fuck me. Tomorrow we are going to dinner with your family, i will have to behave like i have to, no hands under the table touching you as we eat, it will be hot, suffocatingly hot and ill have to concentrate on what i am eating not eating you

did i hurt you did i make you bleed? i wish id recorded our conversation, and ill have to read this book again and again as its urgency describes the urgency for us to be described. You said it made you open that those boundaries were closed for so long, you've been alive for a long time, no ones ever been in there no person or thing, you must really like me, for letting you do that, my bodies like what are you doing things dont go in there only come out, whats that we like it, oh i suppose we should give it a try. its not something i can describe yet this feeling of you opening up to me, i knew all along you would like it. it makes me drowsy watching you getting turned on suffocating under my hand, you want it and im going give it to you im gonna take it away and put it back in , im touching you where you've never been touched it might as well not existed you didn't exist before this moment soft in my hand and wriggling in my fist, im holding you there i wont let you go ill give you everything you want to get there ***im deep inside you i can feel your pain that something has expanded and been washed away with the penetration and skin on skin that soft place between your hip and lower thigh that could still be a babies limb(thigh) that night i spoke to a butch about being a bottom and she told me sex is just looking at someone just imagining things are there that aren’t and everyone gets fucked in every hole and space that wants it when you have not spent your life in the corners of others peoples eyes ducking from sight and fucking, would you have put things inside yourself when you were younger did you just bleed and then stop and then bleed and then stop did your blood stain the sheets did you feel like a hole like an opening to be spread across the floor and sucked from someones fingers(in a jar), to be spread across the floor, did your dad smile at you and tell you not to have seconds did he have seconds is he an asshole does he think about your vagina swelling as it does with the months of injecting vials  T /of pleasure/ straight to the blood supply supplying an ever growing (cock) clitoris, you said id fucked you into a coma, i want you to sleep in my lap all day, you cried and my hands were wet when i put them on your face, your got my cheeks wet you fucker (asshole) i was saving them for a rainy day, you said you lived on one floor you said 2 women lived in your house that were sisters and never spoke did your blood stain the walls did your blood stain the walls can i eat it can i lick it from your wounds when we fuck with the jock strap on and its covered in blood it makes me think of your blood and if there was a gash between your legs a severing you apart if you will fall apart and break in half and stain the floor as i drag you across the room , can i lick it from your wounds your soft and gutteral wounds so soft like petal flesh someones cut them and theyre bleeding from your plastic appendage theres blood on your clit but im sucking it, still blood there.,wont let me inside cause of the invisible blood there, it will be there for a while trickling down, the war on your body, the thighs of a child, i touched you in a place you hadn't heard of hadn’t translated into the language coudlnt understand the cuts dont like holes skin didn't prick pickle, ulcerus skin would let anything in barriers up it hurt me when i wasn't allowed in felt like heteronormativity without the pain of boredom but a line not to be crossed but things not to be stroked or kissed or licked let me hold you in the night now I've held you and broken you and something floats inside me if only they were to know, could you be pregnant with my wanting ?

have you been spending allot of time with your parents because you know they are going to die soon, i am lonely, i need to spend more time alone, it makes you more lonely when you cant remember the last time you were alone i really would’nt know who i was if i got married now.

i like fucking you in the ass, it really gets me off, really gets me off, really turns me on really makes me want to be inside you inside your whole core cant

i am dancing in slow motion to your voice, i am filming myself dancing in slow motion to your voice, i am cutting something up while listening to your voice, i running round in circles listening to your voice, i am on the floor crying listening to your voice, i am holding myself tightly listening to your voice, I am shouting over the sound of your voice trying to make myself louder, i am hungry for you voice, i am ashamed by the space between us, i am hungry for your voice, I am holding a floor/flower for your voice, i am listening to your voice drunk with my fingers in my ears, i am drinking shots to the sound of music timed listening to your voice,- man be cool i am frying an omelette listening to your voice, i am feeling everything listening to your voice, i am feeding an audience member listening to your voice, i am surprised by myself listening to your voice, i am masc for maSCC listening to your voice, i am hoping you wont leave listening to your voice, i am wanting to throw things away listening to your voice, i haven't decided listening to your voice, i am miming along listening to your voice, i am copying you listening to your voice, i am speaking very slowly listening to your voice, i am oily listening to your voice

a happy accident might be to faint on the tube and on coming round see your face, i find there is a null space between writing of words and the performance it is to panic that one is not right that one is not enough to parallel the other, to say that what comes first what is the purpose of the speaking, how much effort should the speaking be to counteract the writing, did the writing come from an improv, how does one improv on their own, I will just have to talk to myself for the rest of my life, no the improv comes from an exercisee, starting small and fun and exploring it, not know or worrying as to where it might go, the same with writing, do you start with a goal in mind, well sometimes you have an objective but you go on a journey to get there and no decision is wrong just a manifestation from your head, nothing you could ever do if it was honest would be wrong honesty is the best policy but that doesnt mean you cant be honest and also be deceitful, be lying and be honest, be lying honestly, be copying honestly, it is a mixture of lies and truth this is performance, to use ones body as the bericle to which you tell the story or the thoughts from your brain just your very existence not he stage is radical enough, to even say one word or blink would be radical enough…

i am sad i think my father is lonely i cant see him now but can here his soft rummaging and weird noises down stairs he can scream like a mad man and is always performing his mad man routine which might infact be his personality, but like me he is just pushing the boundaries and likes to piss people off and make them feel uncomfortable, so it is sometimes hard to tell the difference, I am sad he is lonely because i cannot see him but i can hear him coughing now, and in the night, i can hear him snoring through the floor boards and i can see the snor s coming up through the air like fluffy grey clouds or waves, i am sad that he is lonely i cannot see him but i can see a dark blue space punctured with lights and that is what downstairs looks like until i go downstairs and i can see its real walls and light fixtures and i know this is the real corners not the dark corners, i think he is lonely as he asked me to go to the corner shop to get him a beer a Stella Artois and I am sad because i did not get it for him and now he is coughing he is in the sarcoughaus of the house he is under my feet i feel i am selfish i only speak to him when i want things i wish adults weren't so useless and they could tell you what was wrong like a plant or a shoal of tuna feels like stabbing in the dark into a shoal of fish trying to understand him

when I woke up i thought about your genitals how they might be wet on my face, i turned over and felt my body on the mattress, I thought had you ever done this, you never touched it when you wanked, you still dont unless you with me and were in the moment. i had a pervading fear you might leave me for another man, I watched men from your eyes, seeing them as unconquered land as something you had not tried never been touched by a man in all your years, apart from that hand job with your guitar teacher, i thought i hate that woman, i woke from a sleep of her me telling you couldn't watch it, it angered me too much, i couldn’t watch it was sickening and her fucking face i could cut it open

Soft wet thing doesnt make sense pear shaped blossom and soot covering the sides urinal polished unforgetting is it to touch another in your future, basin of doubt my mouth alludes me it goes to what has come before

(without sentence structure just using simile and metaphors and free writing compairison to do this )

I had another dream about someone else, i feel dirty im gonna have a shower, im scared your gonna change im scared your gonna leave me for another man, im scared of you have a life without me, i keep having dreams about her, every night, do i want to fuck her or am i taunted by her, im taunted by her by a past life of mine, she came to greet me and she had candy floss hair i looked a mess everyone was there and we went out and left everyone i just left for her pleasure

i get paid to be sensitive in the sensitive spot the wind touches my ankles and there nothing to do in the plain sight the pain sigh the plain sight that moves me i woke up with blurry vision am i going blind, i woke up and what i could see yesterday i can no longer see before i feels good to hold your self down to be fLat and shiny and full of a heart and skin and blood underneath to know a cut would open you up so easily to fail in the dirt failing to use your limbs to fall bewildered to go outside for once in your life have you been outside today have you have been outside today no so dont hurt me again with your stale cavity

you would growl at the man in the shop selling us peaches didn't know he had a tremor terret,s to growl not ideal for a corner shop being the only light in a dark world dark street moon time peach buying and it upset me and i thought of myself as a small child all small and childlikee as a small child when kids took it too far and you shrivelled up into your self, its when your alone with your pain, snowball in the eye water dripping from you eye in alone with myself for hours, all hazy in the background, background noise, sharp aliveness alive sadness with he dirty snow dripping from my eye or glass that i sat on, the worst would be to be maimed she said , to be maimed  would be the worst, to be maimed she said would be the worst, it was only a peach pit in my skull, but you wouldn’t want a 12 inch knife in your stomach sternum would you no you wouldn’t, a peach pit stone cutting the sides of your head off, shaving an inch from yours skull, its skill to laugh again after the impact, i felt child child again, plight of the hill and the peach pit in my brain it sunk in made its self known to me, known that it would not venture out, somewhere else a man was being cut open, known to me it would not venture out, it would not venture out and to expect something of the thing before it reaches its thing hood is foolish to expect something fo the thing is foolish, is foolish when a peach pit has embedded itself into its skull sorry to be a senstitve being, sentiive in the cool of the night air, as we cross the road to avoid cars we think might kill us, where everything is the height of the wind as the rain is about to fall, as temperaturee falls, it stayed with us all night, that stone worked its way out (but that stone did not work its way out)

shouting from a place of honesty, to unravel it would take its secrets away, it was a sigh in the mind, it was my sweat on your forehead, it was something happening far away, it was that peach pit of cruelty

why did i keep eating them bending lower and lower to my fait. my knees are the first to go, too weak for what they will

its when your alone with your pain, glass in my upper thigh near the places you choose to be cut open, involuntarily penetrated and loneliness is death and i have a scar there and its when your alone with your pain

, an men described as mediateranine colouring what ever the fuck that means hindered bodies with

i am so angry at you i am gone with anger I am gone i could have made the thing and blasted it into your face i could have made the thing and blasted it into your face watever you fucking cunt go lick the dogs arse i hate you and your fucking cuffling laugh and the way you look at me when you disapprove maybe i need to be more accepting thats my fault but i could hit you right you you fucking sucker go lick the dogs arse shut up ill say goodbye and not kiss you how do you like that if only it didn't fold back on me you /dont know me at all you are fitting things into the past what you used to say what you used to think you dont actually think that anymore dont let the shit they say grind you down thats a cliche go lick the dogs arse I am full with so many voices and none of them are yours  you sucker go lick the dogs arse the words you say are empty vaccums i do things for you im self entitled i want to get it wrong i do things for you im self entitled i want to get it wrong i want to be excited instead im scared i want to get it wrong go lick the dogs arse

i couldn't hate you for long, but did you hate me forever, soaking up my life, is this sharing is this toll sharing, does it hurt you too,

it comes from the soul

wind hots the window suds like a bee dying

duality of eggs and blood

Bred into my womb

to find the details and tell your story

a film from my perspective as a stalker to you

hey fossil fuel, dirty ribena, slime mould, sea potato, Ursula le Guin, get in my mouth please peasant testicle tentacle put you to sleep eat you to your heart, peace be with you, bible passage for your grandma, Eccles cake for you pegging, naked with a cap on, dim light of the room a memory not to be forggoten and then i devoured you and then i devoured you and then i devoured you and then i devoured you cherry pip cherry core cherry cherry sticks and cherry more. Lychees at the cinema a hidden satsuma grapefruit lips fruit is expensive

im worried my dad only exists in my kitchen

im proud that you told them there is something else a Zara sales assistant wouldnt get it you were trying to tell her there was a void in the floor that she could fall into this gaping hole sucking the air out the room just a dash from razor on someones face wouldnt tell it to them straight give them enough warning of their ignorance there was a hurricane a whirlwind approaching she better get her fucking brolly - probably sum it up in one sentence.

into a massive void that was shaking all the

in those slow motion moments under the lights as the corners of your body touched mine tacky red paint and screaming

in that surreal slow motion

the less im with you the more I hate you for not sugaring my existence

Iit will all pass so grab it now

it was your gold star!!

my hands smell like celeriac but this morning they smell of your scent from inside your thighs where the humming birds sing, where i laugh at our fathers for not knowing we have that scent on our fingers as we talk to them

Ilike that man who kept getting ups nd putting his hat back on

when your full with cum and adrenalin you cant feel the pain

the metaphors the rising cultures

i am funny and you are funny and in the end i think its all going to be okay

to make a real effort to smile and not put my hands under the table.

the smell of cigarettes Monday morning

do they mix the ashes and dead bodies with the food

seeing that fruit stall and thinking that was where you were mine but i was not yours

i was your baby and i used to suck your chin

Never yours

Theres a man bow legged and he's walking, did his mum know not to wrap him round her chest like that so his legs would grow in the shape of her love and rib cage

the ground is lavender, looks like lichen, bluebells maybe just floating above the grass, a hat, a bonnet of flowers

i pass blisets where the man speaks in burps

throat cancer has made him funny without realizing

we walk along and our our knees in the right place?

we use sticks, we use plastic wheeled things, i am late, we use stealth, accents and alter egos, i channeled into a man selling big issue suddenly i am Liverpudlian so he recognises me as his own and forgives me for no money

she grows it but it looks better short

im late and bins line the pavement

i woke up in shock this morning and apologised in my sleep

Reeds

they will cut it off soon

film haircut march poem pics love

funny watch

even though can is hilarious

i fancy people who look like they've been found under a rock.

i rip my hair our its pieces

i am holding back

from every circle of my life

shame theres no poppies just unruly black hairs vying for attention

my love

not in our forehead or fingers

it is your ex girl friend

in awe of all the others creatures

i saw a bird with a ketchup packet

to call to each other reference each other tell each other things that are subconscious or just things. I call you bitch, the source, trans jelly, lichen, kitten , chicken tikka masala, midlands, it goes on. Im a rabbit in your keeping your your so small, smaller than me.

i hear you are on quest is that true? and you were born this morning, how is the world treating you? Im going to tell you some truths about the world.. have you learnt about hot and cold yet? Christmas trees have very short lives, sometimes the sun shines too much and you go red, you like icecream, you also like the beach and walking with your shoes off, you really like steak, cartoons and you are very kind.

the reason i cant really talk very clearly is because i have cut my tongue out and given it to you as a present.

I cut your tongue off and gave it to you for christmas.

ill cut an old woman face off and lay it in mine and scream like a goddess in battle as we sit on the tube cutting a mans head off with the slight of a blink in my fantasy that could be real if you will it.

if i had a 3d printer

i take you and i raise you to the highest peaks, dont bring us down.

and not spunk.

Middle ages people with their politics and booze that nor really fair i like them allot and they've livedI

as we have discovered a whole new worl

it feels great cause you know they are just particles of nothing and every part of your face is ——-gleaming.

boat to under the river where snails .

and ill nev

left me with a mound of flesh

for moths to come

my truth, my witty ex

Transface

Political nipples

Squirm

Beetle juice

Metamorphic

your such a tease

Tardigrade