#in a manic state because you’ve been on 10 for a few days now and going from rotting in my bed for weeks to THIS is giving ✨hypomania✨

[strawberrybyers]

realizing i’m so funny and talking a lot and making a million plans right now is not because i am healing for a new year new me era but because i am entering a state of ✨hypomania✨

[courtney-deserved-better]

whats ur writing schedule/process like! not in a “write faster” way, but i think once you mentioned writing in script form? and i like the way you wrote ur most recent fic! just curious bc ur works are just really good :)

this is a great question!!

if its not slippery slopes, ill usually get an idea for something and periodically jot down notes when they come to me until I feel like i have enough information to start writing (or if im just motivated), that's what i did for my horror challenge rewrite. and for stuff that's like... rewrites of an episode that aren't as character-focused as slippery slopes, i usually read the episode transcripts and try to replicate that total drama style with my own writing

for shorter oneshots, i usually just get a vague idea and run with it until i find a good ending spot, then i go back and clean it up a bit so the structure works

slippery slopes is an... interesting cycle. chapters are getting long enough that i cant just write them in one sitting any more (i think ch5 was the last chapter i did that for) and instead ill agonize over the beginning (always the hardest part to write for me) but once i get going with that i usually finish the chapter within a few days. then i reread the previous chapter to make sure it flows ok (and there aren't any contradictions) and then ill give myself a break where i dont do anything total drama related before coming back to edit and post. though before I do all that I type up notes and rough dialogue bits

and then once i post it it's like... a weight off my chest? like ive been purged or something?? idk its a weird sensation but im just like i Physically Cannot Write Anything For This Right Now and i don't start on the next chapter until that goes away. and then i either start the beginning and do nothing for a week before going back and finishing the chapter or i go into a manic state and write nonstop for a few days. right now i haven't reached a point where im ready to begin writing chapter 10 but i have a lot of notes for it.

(also as soon as i finish posting a chapter i try not to go on my laptop for like 12 hours so i don't obsessively refresh my email for comments. i love reading comments so much holy shit. please comment guys it makes fic authors feel so happy we will love you for it)

as for scripts: i am working on being a writer professionally, but specifically a playwright. writing in a script format comes more naturally to me than writing prose. funnily enough, i started posting fanfic just to practice my prose (and fix stuff in cobra kai that i didnt like) but things sort of... ended up here? idk man but im enjoying it.

right, so because writing in a script format is easier when im really struggling with a section in a fic ill usually scrap whatever i had and write it like a script, then translate that into prose. i was very excited to write the family videos for chapter 9 of slippery slopes, but i was Having Issues, so i redid it as a script and then rewrote that as prose. ill put the script version under the cut if you're interested in that.

but thank you so much for the question!! i do think my writing process is a bit unconventional but hey i think things are turning out well! if you have any more questions feel free to send them in!!

ok here is the last scene of ch 9 of slippery slopes in script format:

[SIERRA]

MOM: Hi honey! Omigosh this is so exciting! I bet you’re having such a great time! Especially since Chris is there! Is Chris watching this? Hi Chris! You know, I loooved you on that ice skating show. Your hair was fantastic! Well, it always is, haha. Do you really make your own hair gel? I’ve been trying to perfect the recipe but you’re just so hard to track down! Oh, you’re such a funny guy! I laughed sooo hard when you made all those jokes about marrying Chef.

Chef: hey!

Chris: ok just for the record, I wasn’t joking, we are married, Sierra tell your mom we’re married

Sierra: …can we just turn it off please

[COURTNEY]

DAD: Courtney, sayang, I know you’ve been going through a lot right now—

MOM: So you’d BETTER make it count. You’ve made it this far before, I want to see you getting all the way to the finale this time. And winning it. Enough moping about those hideous, good-for-nothing slackers! That’s what you get for hanging around freaks like them. You’re doing this for the million, now get the million. Is that clear?

ZARINA: And kick ass!

DAD: Zarina!

Video cuts out.

Alejandro: courtney you good?

Courtney: no, she’s right. Mama didn’t raise no quitter

Alejandro: [knows she’s still upset about duncan and gwen]

[ALEJANDRO]

MOM: Hola, Alejandro. We hope you are doing well, especially in such unsavory conditions. I’m glad to see you’ve made it to the final four— we expected nothing less, of course.

DAD: You have been utilizing your skills quite well. Though I wish you hadn’t been so… blatant about it. You’ll have to work twice as hard once this is over to convince people you’re trustworthy. But surely you were aware of that going into this… odd endeavor. That’s just politics. Reputation is everything.

JOSE: [snorts] Oh, and what a reputation you have, Al. I could easily compile hours of footage of your failures, but I, unlike you, do not waste my time on the frivolities of reality television. Though you always have been lacking in taste. Especially with that bratty girlfriend of yours— oh, my mistake, aren’t you dating the whiny weakling? It’s so hard to keep track! [laughs]

Alejandro: callate!

MOM: I’m sure Alejandro is just working an angle on them.

DAD: Whatever the case is, do not disappoint us.

[NOAH]

MOM: Hi Noah, I’m sorry, I don’t have time to record a full video, but I’m proud of you! Here are your sisters!

ISWARI: A million dollars? A million [bleep] dollars? Win it, Noah! Win it!

RUTH: Dude!! This is crazy! I know you can do this— good luck! Ark misses you! [holds up Ark who barks]

MARA: Are you insane? Why aren’t you dating Alejandro already?

Noah: shut up, mara, just because you can’t keep a boyfriend—

ANYA: Don’t let ‘em trick you! No mercy! Crush their skulls if you have to— no, wait, you’re not strong enough for that. We’ll get there!

LIYA: I say this as your sister, someone who loves you but is constantly annoyed by you— for someone who is quite literally a genius, you sure can be an idiot sometimes.

BALLARI: Okay, I literally have no idea how you’ve made it this far without an athletic bone in your body— are we sure you aren’t adopted? I’m kidding

ABS: You’re stubborn as hell when it comes to me, so you better be stubborn as hell when it comes to winning! And when you do win, get me a frozen yogurt machine, will you? I promise I won’t make you rock climb again!

JAEL: If you lose this, I’ll kill you with this racket. And then use your guts to make myself a new racket. So don’t fuck it up. Again.

Noah: [frozen, ashamed]

Sierra: well that was a mess

Courtney: ok show of hands, who felt better after hearing that? [no one raises hands]

Chris: yeah I was expecting this to be a lot more heartwarming…

Chef: chris just look at them. If they had stable home lives they wouldn’t be doing reality tv

Alejandro: can we please stop talking about this. Also aren’t you supposed to be flying the plane

Chef: oh fuck

Chris: yeah sure. I think im gonna call my mom

Everyone: …

Noah: ok so that was really shitty. Why dont we all go to first class and try and ignore our problems

Everyone: yeah ok sounds good

***

Courtney: so that sucked

Alejandro: at least your dad seems ok

Courtney: true. What are your guys dads like

Noah and Sierra: bold of you to assume I know my dad. Jinx

***

Alejandro: that last girl… you mentioned a sister who does tennis and hates you

Noah: yep

Alejandro: why?

Noah: none of your business. but… it is pretty justified

[kangaroo-sniper-imagine]

Medic and Engie with an inexperienced S/O

-I lost the ask but I remember what was the request was!-

- also! NS/FW stuff ahead so caution-

Engineer

SFW

Dell is a true southern gentleman and takes being your first boyfriend very seriously. He is courteous and patient and understands that you don’t know what to do in a relationship 100% of the time. He wants you to be comfortable around him and he values honesty and openness between the two of you

Dates are usually at home. He’s not big on going out because he values privacy. Most dates are eating a home cooked meal or him serenading you with his guitar. He likes spending as much time with you as possible and is big on parallel play. Has no issues sharing space with you

Loves kissing your hand and cheek and acts like it’s the greatest honor ever. Kiss him on the lips and he might die. Kiss him on the neck and he’ll ascend

Dell isn’t one to date for the sake of dating; he fully intends on marrying you one day. He went out of his way to be a great friend to you before asking to date you. He envisions a cute future with the two of you on a little ranch where no bothers you

NS/FW

Since he is your first boyfriend, it’s safe to assume that you’re a virgin. No pressure on Dell or anything (lol). The first step into him doing ANYTHING with you is your consent. Homeboy won’t even bring up doing the diddily doo unless you bring it up first. Dell is so worried he’s gonna mess up and scar you for like

Even once you two become “acquainted” with each other, Dell goes a little overboard. It’s a whole evening if you factor in the foreplay, prepping, and aftercare. Will wine and dine you, lay on the southern charm so thickly its almost cloying. That man wants you a blushing, giddy mess before he starts feeling you up and leading you to the bedroom (sidenote: all bedroom activities STAY in the bedroom, the rest of the mercs are way too nosy to get adventurous)

Dell sticks to any position where he can lovingly gaze at you and kiss you, so either missionary or you riding him. Doesn’t mean too but his accent get thicker and thicker and this boy is a babbler and before you know it you’re getting a Texan Cassanova saying the dirtiest things tigh into your ear cuz he gets too caught up in the moment

10/10 would ride this ride again is all im saying, you lucky duck

Medic

Ludwig isn’t a big dater either, seeing as he has states of insanity and goes mad scientist on people seemingly at random. Back in med school he coupled with a few more of his eccentric classmates but they never lasted. You, on the other hand, he was determined to keep. Like a rare specimen, you piqued his interest

Doesn’t care if you’ve never dated anyone before, he doesn’t see your inexperience as neither an advantage or disadvantage. You are you and he is him and that's the extent of it.

He doesn’t exactly do dates, but he spends a ludicrous amount of time with you. Insists that you help him in his lab, eat meals with him, stick close to him during battles or missions, spend just about every moment with him while you’re conscious

Is very worried about your health, not because you’re chronically ill or anything, its just how he shows his affections. Knowing that you are well puts his mind at ease and makes him less manic. Since he started dating you, he’s been significantly less manic and his experiments no longer toe the line of “crazy medicine man” and now pertain solely to improving the team’s health.

NS/FW

Ludwig is almost clinical when it comes to sex; (if you’re a lady) he can tell when you’re gonna be needier because he tracks your menstrual and ovulation cycle, to ensure no unwanted pregnancies he only tries to bed you on your off weeks and always wears a condom. Even if you’re a dude he always uses prediction, plus testing every three months. Man covers all his bases

His foreplay… sucks. He’s efficient, sure, but he uses medical lube and wears surgical gloves to prep you. Is methodica;y and through and a bit of a tease, stopping at random intervals to ask you if you’re okay, knowing damn well that he’s just prolonging the experience to rile you up.

Doesn’t really care about positions tbh. Likes anyway that he can hold you down or by the hips to be in control and has no preference. The slowness of the foreplay is completely forgotten in the actual act of fucking, seeing as Ludwig sets a brutal pace; almost feels like he’s trying to get it done as quickly as possible but in reality, the good doctor just wants to meet your needs to the best of his abilities. He's not all that well versed in “love-making” but he’s trying his best!

Might wanna talk to him about his bedside manner, but overall he has your best interest at heart

- woo first ns/fw request!-

[chaoticpuff17]

A Dangerous Game

part 23

masterlist 

Hello darlings! I’m back very briefly to give you a short chapter that was already have finished before my tests. I still have a bunch of school work to do, so I’ll be back to hermitting directly as college kills my soul, but please! Send asks! This story is very quickly drawing to its conclusion (probably only 10 or so parts left), and I’d love to know who you all would like to see in my next fic! Love you all!-- chaotic puff 

Jin found them there sometime later curled up on the sofa with Namjoon in one corner and Y/N resting against his side a blanket tucked around her legs and Moni settled happily next to her as the trio watched some sort of drama on the tv. The dog had perhaps missed her more than Namjoon had. While Moni was Namjoon’s dog, in the short time that Y/N had been there, she’d come to be the fluff ball’s favorite person which could have had everything to do with how much she spoiled him.

Namjoon couldn’t find it in himself to be jealous of the animal though. Moni made her happy, he was comforting to her, and Jin’s words rang through his head. She needed comforting things in her life now. She needed security, and Namjoon had every intention of providing it.

“How is the patient doing?” Jin asked almost sorry to break the peaceful moment as the pair had so few of those.

“She ate some of the porridge and drank a full cup of tea.” Namjoon reported with a tired smile, before the smile fell again morphing into a more concerned look. “She hasn’t had anything else though.”

It was bothering him. He was relieved she was awake, but she wasn’t herself. She had eaten so little too. He had hoped she’d finish the whole bowl of porridge, but she’d picked at it finishing maybe a quarter of it before she declared herself done.

“I’ll set up another saline bag to make sure she stays hydrated until she’s feeling a little better.” Jin nodded coming over to check that the IV port was still good on her arm. “Some exercise would be good to if she was up to it, just a walk in the garden though, nothing strenuous.”

“There’s something else.” He sighed eyes them both warily. It wasn’t news he wanted to give, but someone had to. “You have visitors.”

Namjoon stiffened though Y/N barely seemed to register the news.  “What visitors.” He asked in a low growl jaw clenched as he tried to keep his temper under control.

“Jackson Wang and Mark Tuan. They’d like to see Y/N.”  Came the reluctant reply, but this time earning a reaction from the woman. She stiffened before straightening up one hand anxiously knotted in the fur on the back of Moni’s neck.

“I don’t want to see him.” She whispered her eyes fixated on the floor.

“No one will make you.” Namjoon assured wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulder and leveling Jin a hard look clearly displeased by the news and the fact it had been stated in her presence. “I’ll deal with them.” He murmured into her hair. She nodded mutely keeping her eyes on the floor as she anxiously ran her fingers through Moni’s fur. “Jin, could you have Jungkook come up and stay with her?”

“Jungkook’s here?” She asked her eyes flying up to meet his.

“He got back the other day. He wanted to see you, but you were still sleeping. He’s been staying in one of the guest rooms.” The smile that Namjoon sent her was warm, indulgent. He was far too relieved to see her displaying some sort of emotion that he didn’t even care it was directed towards another man. “Would you like to see him?”

“Yeah.”  

Namjoon smiled placing a soft kiss to her forehead as he stood up. “I’ll be back after I deal with this.”

“Okay.”

Namjoon and Jin walked out together leaving her curled on the sofa with Moni. The drama still played softly in the background though both men knew that she wasn’t really paying attention to it. She wasn’t herself, and they both knew it.  

“Has she spoken at all?”

“Not much more than you heard.” He sighed leaning against the wall outside of the room. “She asked me to stay.”  He huffed out a laugh with a sad smile. “You and I both knew she wouldn’t do that unless something was wrong.”

“She’s been through a lot. As much as she doesn’t like you, you are familiar at this point. Her entire world just got turned on its head. She needs familiarity. You, me, Jungkook. She needs people who care for her right now. She’ll be back to normal in no time.”

“How do you know?”

“Because she’s, Y/N. She’s tougher than she looks, she’s just a little fragile right now.”

“Who let those bastards in the house?” He growled pushing off the wall to go deal with the pests that had invaded his home.

“They demanded entrance, claimed they had business with you. Hoseok’s with them now.”

He sighed pinching the bridge of his nose. “Well let’s see what the bastards want. Can you send Jungkook to sit with Y/N?”

“Of course.” Jin nodded. “I’ll hook her up to a new saline bag as well. We’ll see if Jungkook can get her to eat anything else.”

“Thank you, hyung.”

Namjoon was practically seething by the time they got to the parlor where Miss In and Hoseok stood guard over the two unwanted visitors. Miss In might not have looked like much, but she was nothing if not loyal to Namjoon. She ran the house with an iron fist so that Namjoon could run his business in the same way without worrying over his home. Hoseok would not hesitate to put a bullet into the heads of the other gang’s members. He was a loyal to Namjoon more so than any of his other men.

“What can I do for you gentleman?” Namjoon asked leisurely strolling into the room giving them a cold smile in greeting.

Jackson stood up whirling around to face Namjoon. “Where’s Y/N?” Namjoon ignored him choosing instead to settle himself into a chair across from the two men. “Where is she?” Jackson repeated glaring at the other man.

“Y/N doesn’t want to see you.” He drawled taking pleasure in the man’s clear annoyance.

“Of course she wants to see me. You can’t keep her away from me.”

“I can assure you, Mr. Wang, that Y/N does not want to see you. She’s been unwell and hasn’t wanted any visitors, especially not you.”

Jackson frowned clenching his fists. “Y/N would never refuse to see me, and what do you mean she’s been unwell?”

“She’s been unwell.” He shrugged purposefully keeping his answer vague partly to protect Y/N’s privacy and partly to annoy the other man.

“You said. What’s wrong with her?” He gritted out trying to restrain himself from jumping on the other man, but this was RM’s domain, and it would do no good to cause problems when Y/N’s safety was dependent on this man.

“I don’t think she would like you to know.” He smiled the expression dark and cold. “You did after all betray her.”

“I did no such thing!” Jackson shouted jumping up from his seat only to be pulled down by Mark.

“Control yourself.” He sighed. “Yelling isn’t going to get you any closer to seeing Y/N.”

“I’m afraid that neither of you will be seeing Y/N today. She has very clearly requested not to see you.”

“Where is she?”

“That is none of your concern.” Namjoon drawled. “She has asked not to see you. I intend to honor that request.”

“You can’t keep her away from me. She’s my sister.”

“And what kind of brother fails to protect his little sister?” Namjoon shot back cruelly.

“She was never supposed to marry you.” Jackson hissed. “She never should have been here in the first place. She never should have met a bastard like you.”

Namjoon froze the tension in the room rising as he levelled Jackson with a dark look. “She was always meant for me.” He smirked the expression cold, almost feral in nature as he stared at the other man. “Do you really think you could protect her? You? She’s better off here with me than she ever was with you.”

Jackson scoffed and leaning forward with a manic twinkle in his eye. “You think she’ll ever love you?”  He grinned the expression lacking any warmth or humor. “She won’t. She’s too good to degrade herself like that.”

Namjoon’s eyes narrowed dangerously his grin almost feral as he looked at the other man. “You think she would be any better off with you?”  The temperature in the room seemed to drop as he spoke. “You couldn’t even manage to get her more than an hour away before your bumbling attempt at a rescue was foiled. Did you really think you could take her away from me? The only reason you aren’t dead is because she didn’t want you dead. The only reason your bumbling crew was given the time of day was because you had the audacity to claim her as kin.”

“I want to make something perfectly clear to you, Mr. Wang. Y/N has never been and never will be your kin. She is my wife, and once the wedding is over, you will never see her again.”  

“You have no right!”

“I have every right! You may not like it, but Y/N is my wife. She will remain my wife, and you will fade into obscurity especially after your spectacular failure of a rescue. She was willing to sacrifice herself for you, if only you hadn’t lied to her.” He sighed false sympathy dripping from his tone. “She was quite heartbroken you know.”

“You bastard!”

“Is that any way to talk to your betters?” Namjoon quirked a brow unamused by the man across from him who was practically vibrating with anger.

“Just let me see her!”

“No. Out of the question. I won’t have you upsetting her any more than you already have.”  He scoffed elegantly crossed his legs leisurely leaning back in his seat. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave. You’ve outstayed your welcome. Hoseok!” He called and almost instantaneously the red haired man was by his side. “Could you escort our guests out? And make sure that the gate knows that they are not welcome at the estate again.” He turned his cold gaze on the two men again sending them a smile that sent chills down both of their spines. “If you have any further business with me, you can do it through official channels, not at my home.”

part 24

[sirenizuku]

Or if we’re blind and the truth is just a painting in grey..

Izuku midoriya x gender-neutral reader!

BTW y/f/c stands for Your Favourite Color

 Quirk info: Your quirk, Siren, allows you to have most of the characteristics of a siren. You can hypnotise the weak-willed with your voice, alluring them to do whatever you wish. You can breathe underwater AND on land, because i can’t keep you in the water if I want you to go exist near 1-a. You also have razor-sharp teeth for biting people, though one of the downsides of biting people is that you enter a euphoric/manic state whenever you accidentally drink someone’s blood. Allllsoooo your legs turn into fins in water and vice versa Y’know. But they still have scales!!! Cute little scaly legs. Also other downsides include:Sore throat from singing, weakened immune system (not too badly) and occasional aches in the gills

Summary: You’ve been a villain your whole life, or at-least since your quirk developed... But you aren’t really a villain. You’re a vigilante, and even still that term angers you… Because some vigilantes claim to kill for justice, and maybe if you disagree with that you aren’t one. But you’ve never killed anyone and you never plan to. Unlike those ‘heroes’ who claim to fight for justice, killing all those who oppose them.

If you asked yourself, it doesn’t matter what somebody’s done.

Because if you kill them, that’s just another life taken…

And they have the gall to excuse it with their sickening justice.

You hate heroes.

————;=+ Act 1; In which a siren sings her encore +=;————

You lied. There was one person you wouldn’t mind killing.

All Might.

And so, You had managed to engage a student of UA whilst trying to break in.

You just wanted him dead, is that too much to ask? Actually, don’t answer that. Hell, He was putting up such a fight that you’d happily just leave at this point! You didn’t want all-might dead THAT badly.

Suddenly, you’re snapped out of thoughts by Izuku going in for a punch. You hiss in anger as you quickly throw yourself out of the way, hearing a rib or two of yours cracking.

God.

Dammit.

’I’ll be fine for now.’ you mumble, standing up. You look Izuku in the eye, watching as his face swirls from anger to hate to pity to an apologetic look then repeating. Stop it, you think.

Stop pitying me, you think again.

He’s readying an attack, you notice. His stance tenses slightly when he’s charging an attack.

Your eye twitches as you seethe in rage. Finally, you begin to get too frustrated. You sigh, readying your voice to sing your song in one of its purest forms.

The boy hisses in confusion, seemingly trying to break out of your hypnosis. You tut.. He’d have so much potential, had it not been ruined by these ‘heroes’

Finally, you begin. Your voice wavers for a second at the beginning, but you manage to iron out most imperfections. Slowly but surely, the greenette’s eyes glaze over and he steps towards you.

You smile genuinely, for it has been far too long since you last hypnotised someone.

The boy stands awaiting your orders and you slowly stand, wincing. “Lucky for you, little bunny, - ow, - I didn’t plan on killing any students today, or any day, really..” you say, still pondering what to order him. ”Ah, Right, Tell me, little bunny, where is.. All might?” You sigh. you’ve always thought the name All Might was dumb.

The boy slowly points down the hall and you smile, turning on your heel. Your smile drops immediately as Eraserhead’s capture weapon wraps around you. It’s not too uncomfortable, all things considered, but you’d rather not be in it. And so, You struggle, attempting to bite the ‘scarf.’

It does not work, clearly, as you listen to your teeth scratch across the material. He seems to hum in realisation as he sees your teeth, scarp and triangle-shaped, clearly made for eating meat. You keep struggling as you lose energy, the pure adrenaline running through your bloodstream slowly fading out. Your struggling fades from ‘Feral cat’ to ’angry cicada’ in the span of about 20 seconds.

And the worst part? The ‘hero’ who caught you didn’t even react.

You feel the scarves tighten, cutting off your oxygen and covering your gills. After about 30 more seconds, you begin to pass out.

————;=-+ Act 2; In which..  Interviews amiright +-=;————

You awake in the UA interview room. More so an actual interview room than.. an impromptu villain interview room.

It still peeved you to be considered a villain, but at least it’s better than being considered a hero... You glance down to your hands, stuck in handcuffs. You aren’t all that uncomfortable, really, and you can’t help but be glad it’s warm in UA. Better than the streets, at the very least.

You glance down at your legs, thick scales running up them and slowly dissapearing at your hips. They glow a brilliant light Y/F/C, darkening at the edges where light doesn’t fully reach them. There’s some traces of a scalpel inspecting them, you judge by the perfectly straight scratches leading up some. You snort, imagining their confusion. Suddenly, a voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

”What’s so funny?” It says. You assume it’s an older man, judging by tone. “Ahh.. so there is someone listening,” you smile, “Were you inspecting the scales?” You say, cutting yourself off a few times with short-lived laughs. You hear a sharp sigh of exhaustion from the speaker.

”Name?” They ask. You decide to respond, despite the part of you telling you to be rebellious and silent. ”Technically don’t have one. Pronounced dead,” you sigh, “Try searching y/n y/ln”

Theres a 10 minute pause consisting mostly of you getting lost in your thoughts, before somebody seems to relay info to the mysterious voice (tm).

”Pronounced dead.. at age 5.” they say and you giggle. “Big surprise! I’m not dead.” You say, voice dripping with venom. There’s a resigned sigh as you avert your eyes.

So competent they just decided you were dead.

”Quirk?”

You giggle. ”My quirrrk?” You draw out the r, “It’s siren.”

”Siren as in ambulance siren?” The voice says.

”Siren as in man-eating mermaid.” You answer, though you dislike calling yourself a mermaid.

”…” There’s a short pause followed by… silence. Pure silence. It’s deafening, really, and your mind can’t help but imagine all the ways they could kill you.  A few minutes later,  a staff member - not eraserhead, luckily - walks in and removes the restraints. You flex your hands at the newfound freedom, immediately raising a hand to your gills which are placed upon your neck, as they try - and fail, due to you having lungs for on land - to suck in air. You stumble over to the camera, assuming - and hoping,  - that there’s a microphone there too.

“You guys got any water bottles?” You ask, scratching at your gills. A few moments later, another staff member - it might be the same one, actually, - walks in with two bottles. Your eyes light up and you immediately open one, pouring it into your gills. You feel some relief at having ‘cleaned’ them  out. It’s never fun when you get gunk. though, for a second, you are concerned that the water might be poisoned.

You take your other water bottle, pouring out a little bit onto your palm. There’s enough water left to soothe your sore throat, since you are now realising that you weren’t, at all, ready to use your song at such a high perfection level. Slowly, You run your now-wet palm up your scales, moistening them slightly. It feels nice, okay? Don’t judge, It’s rude.

”hang on..” you mumble, spinning on your heel to walk around the room. “did those assholes take my phone?” You ponder aloud. There’s a short crackle from the speaker, followed by a “Yes.”

”oh.” you sigh, kicking your legs up onto a table. You immediately fall over, since you managed to forget you were standing.

”Hey, what time is it?” you say into the void, hoping the mic will pick you up. “16:34” they say.

“cool!” You say, ironically  unenthusiastically.

After a few minutes, you begin to get bored. You decide to whine to the mic. “I’m borrrreeeddd….” you whine, seemingly forgetting you’re literally a criminal.  Not a big one, but a criminal. Of

Theres a short click from the door as a staff member opens it, they’re holding a phone. Not your phone, sadly, but a phone. “Hell yeah!” You say, bounding over to the phone. You grab it as the staff member hurries out the room, seemingly afraid. “Don’t get any ideas, it’s tracked.” The voice says, once again coming from the speaker at a slightly-lower-than-comfortable volume.

You scroll through the mostly blank phone, until you stumble upon a group-chat. ‘Class 1-A,’ It’s named.

Huh, you think, clicking on it.

————;=+ Act 3; In which you make fun of class 1-a +=;————

Class 1-A

16:47

Tsu: We still up for girl’s movie night?

Y/n: mowovie night

Kirishima: huh???

Bakugou: WILL YOU STOP BLOWING UP MY FUCKING PHONE

Bakugou: FOR FIVE

Bakugou: MINUTES

Y/n: will youwu stowop blowoing uwup my fuwucking phowone owo

Bakugou: I AM GOING TO TEAR YOU APART

Kaminari: lol

Kaminari: Wait who’s that?

Kirishima: bro yeah who IS that

Iida Ten

Bakugou: STOP PARROTING EACH OTHER YOU DUMBASSES

Y/n: stowop parrowoting each owother youwu duwumbasses owo

Bakugou: I’LL RIP YOU APART

Y/n: I’ll rip yowouwu awpart…

Kaminari: Bakugou hang on lmfao

Momo: Theres nobody named y/n in our class

y/n: i’m ur uncle

Momo: Who’s uncle?

y/n: yes <3

Tsu: ?

Izuku: Guys, please stop blowing up my phone I’m trying to watch tv,,,

y/n: izuwukuwu

Izuku: Huh,,,,?

y/n: huwuh,,,?

Izuku: Why is everyone messaging me???? and telling me not to use this chat???

Bakugou: WE COULD‘VE EXPLAINED IT TO YOU IN DMS YOU IDIOT

Y/n: we cowouwuld’ve explained it towo yowouwu in dms yowouwu idiowot

Tenya IIda: Please stop sending so many messages in the chat. I am trying to sleep.

y/n: damn lemme just stop my hilarity so you can sleep /s

y/n: wait

y/n: I mean uhh

y/n: please stowop sending sowo many messages in the chat. I am trying towo sleep.

Tenya Iida: Please do not make fun of what I say. Please remember I am a moderator here,

Y/n: ’moderator’ bitch this is a gorilchat

y/n: shit

y/n I mean groupchat

y/n: also I mean

y/n: Please dowo nowot make fuwun owof what I say. Please remember I am a mowoderatowor.

Kirishima: srsly who is this

y/n: me looking into a mirror ^^^

Bakugou: ANSWER THE FUCKING QUESTION

y/n: woahh calm down there hot stuff

y/n: get it

y/n: because you’re not hot

Momo: Can’t say they’re wrong there, Bakugou.

Kirishima: ^ Don’t be mean to bakubro!!!

y/n: are any of you organic creatures

Kaminari: I am

y/n: give life juice pls thx

Kirishima: they’re reverting back into gamer speak from their hunger :ooooo

y/n: what u want me to talk like mr stick-up-my-ass iida

Tenya Iida: Please refrain from using profanity, Y/n!

y/n:  wow I’m so sorry I’ll never do it again (1/2)

Tenya Iida: Thank you.

y/n: I mean really I’ll never do it again mr stick-up-my-ass iida (2/2)

Bakugou: KARMA FOR TELLING MEMTKO GET MY FEET OFF MY DESK

y/n: wow mr not-hot did you just have a stroke

Bakugou: I’M GONNAKILL OYU

Y/n: well I hope Oyu is ok

Y/n: also if you’re wondering who I am

y/n: sorry for lying (I’m not)

y/n: Y/n sent a photo

(PHOTO ID: A photo of a young girl, seemingly. they’re no older than 16, by the looks of it. They have brilliant y/f/c scales across their entire legs that fade out near the hips. Her face is pulled into a grin with razor-sharp teeth unlike that of a human.)

Kirishima: wasn’t Izuku fighting someone like that in the hall

Y/n: bingo! fingetbuns

Y/n: *fingergusn

y/n: fINGERSUNS

y/n: NO

y/n: FUNGHUNS

Y/n: HFJFHHFJDIDBJDIFH FINGERHUNS

Izuku: it’s okay, take your time (:

Y/n: FINWR GUNS

Kirishima: ur getting there bro!!!

Y/n: FINGERGUSN

y/n: NO

Y/n: Finger guns

Bakugou: STOP FUCKING SPAMMING

Kirishima: i’m so proud of my mermaid son

Y/n: siren*

Kirishima: I’m so proud of my mermaid siren

Y/n: yeah ok I guess

Y/n: serious question

Y/n: does anyone have a small amount of blood

Y/n: that they’d be willing to gift towards me

Kaminari: wtff

Kirishima: bro I got some right here

y/n: give pls

Kirishima: where do I have to go B)

Y/n: go find aizawa and tell him to give blood to the siren girl

Kirishima: oki

-——————-

In the UA interview room, You smile down at your phone.

They’re actually willing to be kind to you, even if you just fought them. You’re actually happy.

It’s an odd feeling,

But it’s one you’d like to keep.

-——————-

Class 1-A

17:22

Y/n: I got my blood

y/n: down the hatch

Kirishima: kindness is manly

y/n: damnfucki; right iwns tis

Kaminari: huh

Izuku: are you okay

y/n: bkoodjsm

Izuku: i think they’re saying blood?

y/n: hehe

Bakugou: STOP BEING WEIRD

y/n: djhrnsia rothg god i am so fhilarous

y/n:  nr igni kimsh

y/n: ithink I might have anxiey

y/n: anxieuty

Kirishima: bro u okay?

Mineta: cute…

y/n: i am going to hurt you

AUTO: MINETA left the chatroom

Momo: oh thank god

Jirou: ^^^^

y/n: hwlrnd

y/n: how say

y/n: how say jrlis

y/n: jirou

Jirou: jee-roh

y/n: skfnsj blood make

y/n: me is haopy

Izuku: Blood makes you happy?

y/n: yed

Izuku: it’s very interesting to have a quirk that’s mutation but also allows you to gain serotonin/dopamine

Izuku: what else does your quirk do?

y/n: sing sovng

y/n: make peop,e do what I want

y/n: but hurt throat

y/n: leg turn fin

y/n: make hunfhyehdbvlood

Izuku: I’m designing a hero costume as we speak!

Bakugou: NERD

Kirishima: manly!

Izuku: (:

y/n: thenhahighswearingiffof

Izuku: translation: The high is wearing off

y/n:  thus koamsjs

y/n: brb

——

y/n: ): high wore off

Izuku: What WAS that?

Y/n: blood side effect

Y/n: its really fun

Izuku: Hang on

Auto: Izuku called Sensei Aizawa

——

Class 1-A

18:12

Izuku: ok I asked eraserhead n he said he doesn’t mind (:

Izuku: Can I interview you

Y/n: do I get blood after

Izuku: Sure!

Y/n: DEAL

———

You look down at your phone.

It’s been a hour of you scrolling the internet, looking at memes that only earned a short snort from you.

You’re tired, although it’s only 19:32.

You decide it doesn’t matter, and that you’ll sleep.

You spin around on your heel, before pausing. There’s no bed.

Ah well. Floor looks awfully comfy.

-———

You awake around 9Am with only the light of an old lightbulb to illuminate the room. You miss seeing the light from the water, sitting on a rock until the sun finally peaked... But you were lonely, back then. You aren’t sure whether or not you want to go back to those days.

A small knock at the door alerts you of Izuku coming around for his interview. He’s holding a notebook that has ‘Y/N quirk’ messily written on.

He glances down at your legs, covered in shimmering scales. His eyes light up with fascination, to which you chuckle. “You can touch.” You say, watching his hand reach down to the y/f/c coloured scales.

His hand runs gently over them. You grin watching his fascination, and he looks up. He pulls a fold-out seat from the hallway, placing it behino the table before placing himself upon it.

You sit down on the opposite table, smiling. He glances up towards your teeth, watching them glimmer. “Don’t they.. hurt your gums?” He asks.

“Oh, these,“ you press a finger against the top of your tooth, immediately drawing blood, “the skin near them is hardened so they don’t stab me.”

you watch him turn his head down immediately and start writing in his notebook. You glance over, watching him write down all the info about your quirk. He seems to be sketching a costume on the side.

”Oh, don’t forget the voice thing.” You notify to him. He glances up, eyes questioning, tilting his head like a puppy. “Cute.” You say flirtatiously. He turns bright red, averting his eyes before trying to change the subject. “S-so.. if I were to film your song would it still hypnotise me?” He asks.

You wink at him. “Wow, wanting to listen to me sing already..” You say, “I’m just kidding, It wouldn’t hypnotise you, but you might cry. Just a side effect.”

Izuku averts his eyes, blushing furiously. “Could I get a r-recording of it.”

Does he really have a crush on me? You think. Is that really why he wants a recording of me singing?

You respond with a mere “Yeah, sure.” He nods, pulling his phone out of his pocket, ”Should I leave?“ he asks, and you nod.

As soon as he leaves, the pull of your quirk on your phone begins.

You derive your tune from the one you’d sing at the beach. It’s sad and melancholic but there’s an upbeat note, reminiscing on times where you felt free even if there was a tug upon your heart. The air seems to split, allowing the vibrations of your song to pull across the air. It’s not the perfected version, but it’s close.

You love to sing, really, but you’ve always felt bad. you’re only good at singing when you’re using your quirk.

Finally, your song fades out and you hit the record button to turn it off. There’s now a 3:30 minute long recording on Izuku’s phone.

You open the door to see Izuku with a pair of earplugs in, so you push aside your shock at the fact you could just open the door.

You tap him, watching him jump. So cute, you both think in unison.

So cute.

You him his phone, having now secretly added your number.

Very sneaky.

—————

13:36

Izuku: Very sneaky lol

Y/n: (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄  what can I say I’m an assassin.

Y/n: btw tell aizawa to get me a bed lmfao

Izuku: You don’t have a bed!? Where did you sleep last night?

Y/n: floor comfy

Izuku: lol weird

Y/n: said the boy with a notebook about me (⁄ ⁄•⁄Ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄

Izuku: bullying

Y/n: possibly <3

———

Another day passes, more texts coming back and forth from Izuku. He’s really flirting.. huh…

He’s cute. You’re pulled out of your thoughts by the familiar ding of Izuku messaging you

———

Izuku: wyd lol

Y/n: nursing my sore throat lol I practiced my song too much

Izuku: :o oh no

Y/n: it’s fine B) I’m too cool to be defeated by a mere sore throat

Izuku: lol (:

Y/n: wyd

Izuku: just went to recovery girl!!! I broke a finger again ):: I was making so much progress,,

Y/n: it’s not reverting your progress!! It’s still progress.

Izuku: y/n you’re gonna make me cry..

Y/n: go listen to that recording then crybaby

Izuku: THAT RECORDING LITERALLY MAKES ME CRY ):::::

Y/n: yeah cuz ur a crybaby <3

Izuku: stopppp bullying meee <3

Y/n: it always looks like ur flirting when you put a <3 (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄

Izuku: does that mean that you’re flirting?

Y/n: possibly

———

A few more days pass, flirtatious messages passing back and forth.

They’re just a joke, you’d think, blushing furiously.

———

15:32

Y/n: IzukuHeklp

Izuku: ??? Whats wrong??

Y/n: ripped scalepain

Y/n: Y/n sent a photo message

(Photo ID: It’s a picture of y/n’s y/f/c scales. One appears to have been ripped off of her skin, and there’s blood coming from underneath it. Through the blood you can just barely see an underdeveloped scale that was going to replace the broken scale when it was ready.)

———

You’re pulled out of your agony but Izuku slamming open the door, rushing to your side. He’s holding a piece of cloth clearly ripped off of his shirt. He wraps it around your leg gently, watching attentively as it soaks up blood. He picks you up bridal-style, not even noticing the way both you and him blush heavily.

(By the time you’ve reached Recovery girl, the piece of cloth is almost as red as your face.)

You lay on the small bed, bleeding now stopped due to recovery girls quirk. You glance toward izuku, tears welling up in his eyes. You gently pat his head, watching him watch you.

”Stooppp cryingggg” you whine.

Recovery girl watches you with a look that says “oh to be young and in love..”

Izuku pouts. “Make me.” He sighs jokingly.

You spot your opportunity there. “What if I told you that you could come ’round to my room later?” You say blushing.

Izuku turns tomato-red, nodding.

————

As soon as your out of recovery girls office, Izuku follows you like a puppy. You glance toward the bandage now wrapped around your leg to stop infection. Turns out ‘you didn’t have enough energy to fully heal it from all those all-nighters‘ or something.

You open the door to your room, fairy lights turned on and glowing purple. There’s a small sofa that fits two and Izuku beelines for it. You’re so glad Aizawa let you decorate your room. You sit down next to him, cunning your perfect plan.

”I think I hate all-might a little less, now-“ you say, preparing yourself for the infodump from Izuku.

“i’m so glad! You know, ever since the toxic chainsaw fight-“ Izuku begins, not noticing you tune him out after 5 minutes. “Stop infodumping..” you say playfully and he picks up on it. “Make me!” he pouts.

”Sure.” You smirk, leaning in.

As soon as your lips collide, Izuku seems to blank out. He’s blushing red like a tomato. The rain outside seems to quieten over the roar of your pounding hearts..

And you don’t regret it at-all.

Once you finally pull away from the kiss, izuku’s a stuttering mess. “Wh-W-What does th-this make us?…” he asks, stuttering and stumbling over his words. You chuckle, leaning in close to his face so you’re essentially in his lap. “I think you know..” you coo into his ear, watching it slowly turn pink.

He nods slowly, watching you. “So.. I was thinking about a beach date?” you say, softly. He giggles slightly, although he still stumbles over the sound. “Sounds to me like you just want to go into the water..” he says.

You look him in the eye.

”I never said you couldn’t come into the water, too..”

[detroitbydark]

Chp 10

Characters: Commander Fox/Mouse (reader), Palpatine, Captain Rex, Anakin Skywalker, Mace Windu.

Word count:4500

Warnings: Sith typical mind fuckery, canon typical violence. Use of the force to injure.

A/N: well here we are ladies and lads, Fox lovers all. The day is upon us. I’m pretty stoked the way this one came out and I hope y’all don’t hate me too much after the fact. As always let me know what you think, ask questions, yell at me. Whatever floats your boat.

Today hadn’t started well and you were already so far past caring it was insane.

You didn’t care you’d woken up on your couch in your clothes from the day before, rumpled and wrinkled beyond salvage, your mascara a messy mask under your eyes.

You didn’t care that you spent the better part of your first hour at the office staring out the transparisteel window into the skylane that ran not far from where you sat, watching transports and speeders for by in a soothing blur.

You didn’t care about the tartness in your voice when the 501st Captain had comm’d stating it was important that he speak with Commander Fox immediately. You’d told him, in no uncertain terms, that what the Commander had on the schedule for today was of the utmost importance and that you would make sure he got the message when he got in.

Maybe you’d been a bitch, latent embarrassment from the peep show you’d unintentionally given the day before still simmering but, really, he hadn’t even offered an apology and the muffled yelling behind closed doors hadn’t done much to place him in your good graces either.

You try not to replay the night before. You’d done that plenty on the ride home. All the same, you let it play through again in your head. Now, you're looking at it in the light of day and with more clarity. The way the anxiety had been almost palpable when you’d first entered the room hadn’t seemed so obvious at the time-

“Ma’am?”

A portly woman is standing a few feet away politely smiling. Your face flushes.

“I’m sorry. Daydreaming.” You explain with a forced smile and a lie “what can I do for you?” A movement behind the woman catches your attention. A tiny green hand clings to the women's slacks as equally green eyes peek around her thick leg.

“I’m Sukin Maly with level 504 children’s home. I was told this was Commander Fox’s office?” She’s pleasant looking as she glances back at the child clinging to her before focusing on you. Lines pull at the corner of her eyes letting you know she was a woman who enjoyed smiling a lot and often.

The child slowly rounds the woman’s thigh and you watch with delight as you recognize the twi’lek girl from the pictures Fox had shown you. Pushing away from your desk you move closer, crouching down and offering your hand. Wide eyes look from your hand to the attendant who gives a small nod. The girl hesitantly takes it and you give it a gentle shake before looking back up to her minder.

“I’m afraid the Commander is out of the office today.” The woman gives an understanding smile as you turn back to the little girl.

“I think I know who you are.” You offer conspiratorially, “are you Me’kar? You made quite the impression on Commander Fox.”

Her little lekku wriggle happily at the sound of her name.

The children’s attendant says something in Ryl you don’t understand. Me’kar’s tiny hands go to the top of each lek and she makes little ears with her fingers.

“Fox” she says clear as day in basic.

You can’t help but laugh and her smile brightens as she repeats the word over and over.

“She’s picking it up quickly”, Sukin explains “but that seems to be her favorite word.

“It’s ok, sweetheart. It’s mine too” you say softly as she bounces in front of the older woman.

”it’s nice to meet you both.” You offer them your given name before addressing the child again, “but you can call me Mouse if you’d like. Everyone around here does.”

This brings a peel of laughter bubbling up in the child as the attendant translates. She holds her hands in front of her like tiny paws and wiggles her little green button of a nose before making a squeaking noise. “Mouse,” she giggles.

You laugh as she pulls a stuffed tooka out of the bag draped across her shoulders.

“Cat. Meow.” She says proudly, holding the raggedy stuffy up. “Fox kiss better.”

You look up to the attendant with a furrowed brow. “She was quite taken that the Commander gave her kitten kisses when it was scared.”

You fight back a laugh at the image. “I wish he was here to see you. He’s going to be disappointed he missed such an important visitor.” The girl's smile fades as Sukin translates but only for a moment before she’s digging back in her bag for a folded piece of flimsy.

“Fox” she says proudly as she unfolds the flimsy, finally holding up an image she’d obviously been very proud of. It’s rough but you can very clearly make out little Me’kar and Fox drawn as brightly colored stick figures. Fox’s helmet is so large that the weight of it looks like it will break his little stick body in half at any moment, maybe it’s the small green hand intertwined with his red one that stops it from happening.

Your ovaries nearly implode. It is the single most adorable thing you’ve ever seen and you willingly take it as she turns to her minder and speaks in rapid Ryl.

“She’d like you to give it to the Commander.”

“Please?”

Saying no was never going to be an option so you nod, thrown off when she attaches herself to your waist and gives you a big hug. You pay the top of her head, “how about this. I give him this” you wriggle the picture, “and we set something up so you and your friends can come a different day when I know the Commander and his friends will be here? You could eat lunch in the big cafeteria and maybe they could give you a tour?”

Me’kar can barely contain herself as the older woman translates. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

She spins and bounces with excitement and Sulin hurries to calm her as you hide a smile behind your hand. You trade comms with the woman and promise to be in touch after you’ve spoken with the Commander and set something up. Me’kar waves manically, turning and pulling every few steps when It’s time to leave.

“Bye Mouse! Bye!”

It’s the first bright spot in your day and you cling to the swelling feeling in your heart as you return to sorting out the mess that was the day to day operations of the Coruscant Guard.

——-

The aide arrives early afternoon. You’d only just finished lunch and are busy packing your bag when you see them coming down the hall. The upturned nose and refined, high-end clothing scream politician from 20 klicks away. They’re feet away from your desk before their eyes even move to you.

“I’m sorry, Commander Fox-“ you begin your usual explanation and are quickly cut off.

“Your presence is requested this afternoon in the office of the Supreme Chancellor Sheev Palpatine.”

The request strikes you as odd immediately both in its formality and, if by the way the aide is staring at you, its presumed immediacy.

You were not an individual that ever had any right being in the same room as someone as powerful as the Supreme Chancellor, not because you were unworthy or less than, but simply because you had nothing to offer in any way you could find necessary.

You inform the aide gently that he is likely in the wrong place, has the wrong person.

He huffs impatiently before speaking your name, “that is your name correct?”.

You nod mutely.

“Than, miss, I believe I am in the right place and the Chancellor is well aware of who you are.”

Something sours in your stomach. You wish Fox or one of the boys were around because something just seems off. “We could do this a different time?” You question hopefully, retrieving your datapad and flipping open the calendar, “I really shouldn’t be leaving halfway through my day.”

“The Commander is with the Chancellor awaiting your arrival.”

Well, you knew that, didn’t you? You were the one who’d been answering comms for Fox all day. So why did it make your stomach flip and lurch? Maybe because you’d expect Fox to contact you with a heads up or, knowing him, send one of the kits to collect you.

“So, like now?” You clarify.

The aide's foot begins an impatient rhythm, toes tapping irritably against the floor, “like, now.” He clarifies pointedly.

You try to ignore his demeanor, he probably wasn’t used to playing go-for and certainly not used to anyone doing anything less than jumping at a chance to meet the Chancellor. Still, you don’t move with any great urgency. Maybe had he been a little nicer or the request not been so abnormal to begin with. You make a point of locking down the datapads and grabbing your coat and bags, ignoring his sigh while he glances at his chrono.

He never introduces himself. Not as you follow a step behind down the halls, not as you climb into the sleek black speeder on the landing platform. Hound And Rule are parking a pair of speeder bikes. You give them a shrug and a nervous smile as their helmets both cock in question. Hound looks like his namesake be it with a more viscous paint job. You’d laugh if you weren’t so kriffing nervous. It’s stupid. So this wasn’t exactly normal, but aside from a rude, nameless aide this was nothing worse than heading to an inter-office meeting.

Than why couldn’t you shake the feeling that you were about to get in trouble, like a child being called to the principals office? Your fingers fumble as you buckle the restraint across your chest. You barely have a chance to wave to the two Guardsmen still looking your way before the speeder is diving into the skylane and heading toward the Senate Executive building.

The ride is quiet. Any attempt to make small talk is met with a simple yes or no, a few things are even ignored completely. If this guy was intending on going into politics he’d need to take a class or two on how to fake interest in his constituents.

The speeder comes to a stop at the Supreme Chancellor’s private platform and you’re ushered off without fanfare.

“Don’t we need to check in with security?” You ask as your collector opens the door to what you can only assume is the Chancellor’s suite, a rich expanse of room and excess that doesn’t allow your eyes a moment to relax or focus on one point.

“That won’t be necessary, unless you feel like you need to be scanned and patted down?” His raises brow makes you blush.

“No- of course not. Just protocol-“

“The Supreme Chancellor sets his own protocols.” He explains as you move further into the office. The large wall of transparisteel looks out over the very tops of buildings you knew to tower high about the highest heights of the Coruscanti top level. It’s breathtaking.

The decorations are ostentatious, with a very strong splash of deep red everywhere- from the carpeting to the tapestries interspersed on the walls. Bronzium statues sit atop marble stands, their twisted faces and gnarled figures seem out of place amongst all the finery before you.

“This way, please.”

You hadn’t realized you’d slowed to gawk and move to pick up the pace from where you’d fallen back. You offer a small apology that goes unacknowledged as he presses through an imposing set of doors on the other side is more transparisteel, more red.

And the Chancellor.

Sheev Palpatine sits with his hands folded on the dark wood in front of him looking as if he’d been waiting for you to arrive. He greets you as such.

“My dear girl!” He rises to greet you, moving carefully around his desk.

Your first thought is that he was not nearly as tall as you’d imagined he’d be. On the holonet he looked every bit as tall as any of the clones that served as his guards. He’s only a head taller than you, you note as he reaches for your hand and gives it a gentle shake. You smile weakly, a spark of something uncomfortable and disquieting burning inside you.

“Supreme Chancellor” you incline your head to break the uncomfortably intense eye contact, “it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“She is a beautiful little creature, Commander.” He intones looking past you, ignoring your greeting.

You glance over your shoulder to see Fox standing at attention next to the door you’d walked through. It was a wonder you hadn’t noticed him immediately but with all the red bleeding through the room it was no great difficulty for him to blend in. He tips his helmet toward you even though he seems stiff. Regardless, just his presence does something to calm your nerves. Any residual anxiety about the pair of you seems to dissolve as you look at him. When you turn back to the Chancellor your smile is genuine.

The chancellor’s is still questionable while he cups your elbow and leads you toward his desk. The soft clatter of plastoid armor follows behind you. You can feel Fox behind you, can almost imagine his all too familiar body heat radiating along your back. You fight the urge to let your hand sweep behind you in an attempt to capture his own.

“My dear, the good Commander speaks very highly of you.”

“I think very highly of him” you murmur fighting the urge to look behind you.

“Very good. Very good. Have a seat and we’ll begin our little meeting.”

The chair is plush and comfortable. When the Chancellor sits down across you notice that his chair is positioned slightly higher than your own, making him appear as if he was looking down at you. The desk is fairly clean, only a handful of datapads and some neatly organized flimsy. Next to everything is a gleaming blaster. It’s hard to keep your eyes from skimming over it. You’d sat through enough conversations with Hound and Ryk to not recognize a hold-out blaster when you saw one.

“It’s beautiful isn’t it? Blas-Tech, I believe.” The chancellor motions toward the blaster but you shake your head. As much as you’ve been privy to conversations about the different makes and models you’d never really become comfortable with the actual blasters themselves. “Well suit yourself” the chancellor shakes his head gently picking up the blaster and making a show of turning it in the light. It’s small, most hold-outs were. “A gift from one of the Corellian delegates” he continues “a very thoughtful gift but I personally find blasters rather uncivilized.” He makes a show of setting it down closer to you.

“I see” you fidget in your seat, “I really don’t want to waste any of your time. I’m sure you have far more important-“

“- this is of the utmost importance, I’m afraid” there’s something about the almost apologetic look he gives you or maybe it’s the slight cooling of his tone that washes away any comfort that knowing Fox was with you had provided.

“I’m afraid, I’m not sure what this conversation is about.”

A scoff crosses the length of the desk as the Chancellor looks past you to Fox. “She is very tricky isn’t she Commander? Had I known you couldn’t see past a simple deception I would never have encouraged you to pursue her.”

“My apologies, my lord” Fox’s voice is cool and emotionless, not the rich baritone you were used to. Warning klaxons sound in your head.

“Sir?”

“Oh, dear girl there’s no use hiding it any longer.”

Your heart rate is slowly creeping up, moving more close to the rate of your namesake than you were comfortable with. You attempt to rise to your feet but a pair of gauntlets come down on your shoulders and press you back into the chair that no longer feels comfortable.

The chancellor rises and moves toward the windows, his fine robes swing around him as he goes. Your eyes follow him carefully. Pressure builds at the back of your skull, a wholly inopportune moment for a headache to present itself if you’ve ever had one. You shake your head gently in an attempt to dislodge it. The chancellor laughs and it sends a cold shock down your spine.

“You’ve used your position and your wiles to lead the Commander astray” he begins “you’ve filled his head full of ideas of conspiracies and plots that don’t exist. And for what, might I ask?”

When you turn and look up at Fox he’s staring down at you through the dark lens of his visor. You will him to say something, anything. Surely this was a mistake.

“Fox, you can’t believe this?” You turn toward Palpatine, “this is a mistake. I’m not sure where this has come from-“

“-So I shouldn’t believe that you gathered the data for the Commander? That you didn’t read through it unlawfully and offer your own silly ideas as to what happened after our best investigators found that the ARC trooper acted against the Republic? That he was, indeed, intent on assassignation?” The chancellor’s voice grows louder as he speaks.

Your mouth gapes as he continues.

“Should the Commander not be made aware that you’ve used his affection to manipulate a good soldier into believing that the Grand Army, the highest level of military excellence in the galaxy, was intent on destroying not only his brothers but the entire Jedi order?”

Fox’s hands leave your shoulders and you jump to your feet, the chair pushing back behind you, forcing him to take a step back or be hit with it. His hand rests at his hip, fingers wrapped around the grip of his deece. The pressure on the back of your head intensifies, burns.

“You used me” the words are a broken snarl, an injured animal fighting back. “You made me love you so you could what? Tell me damnit!” His body is tight, coiled like a spring ready to snap.

“Fox, this isn’t right-“

Palpatine's voice rises over the pair of you. “I’ll tell you Commander. She came with the intent of finishing what the ARc trooper started. She was a conspirator.” The word conspirator is hissed out. Fox’s head jerks than shakes. The heel of his free hand presses against his visor. You want to go to him, find a way to make him understand, to soften the hard lines of his body.

Pick up the blaster.

A voice, cool and calculating echoes in your skull. Your eyes trail down to the blaster and your fingers flex into a fist, knuckles going white as you fight the urge that you shouldn’t have. You can hear your heartbeat pounding along rapidly in your head, adrenaline flooding your system.

“She’s here to kill me Commander. She is a spy and assassin. How else could she get in here without the guards knowing?”

Fox’s hand twitches over his own blaster. “It hurts” one hand presses at the side of his bucket. Is Palpatine in his head too?

Pick. Up. The. Blaster.

Your skull feels as if it will implode at any moment. Your eyes turn away from Fox and to the Chancellor. A cruel smile twists his mouth, a vicious play on a genuine one. Your brows furrow together as the clanging in your head grows louder.

“You’re doing this?!” Panic rises in your throat, bile burns it raw. “Why? Get out of my head!”

The pained squeal that slips from your mouth sounds foreign, a feral animal sound. “Get out of my head!” You sob whipping around. Fox, who seems to be struggling on his own, drops down to one knee, bucket cradled in his hands.

“Cyar’ika-“ he sounds small and you want it to stop, would do anything to protect him. His visor rises up to meet your eyes and you swear you see him clear as day as if it’s not there. He’s your Fox and he needs you.

Because you love him.

“How touching” Palpatine's voice echoes through the room, a perverse pleasure notable in his tone as he sees your realization from inside your mind.

But you love Fox and the weight of it gives you strength. You push harder against whatever magic has slithered into your head.

“Good soldiers follow orders” Palpatine reminds, voice cold and calculating “Shoot the traitor.”

“Fox, it’s me.” You beg him to see you. To look at you “he’s making you believe something that isn’t real. See me-“ a broken sob bubbles it’s way over your lips, “Fox…”

Distantly, the sound of blasters and the rising shout of voices becomes clear but you don’t have time to discern what’s going on.

“You will shoot the assassin commander. The blaster is in her hand. Do it, Commander!”

“Mouse- I- I- can’t” Fox’s voice comes out as if through gritted teeth and then something snaps and he rises back to his full height. The uncertainty that had been rolling off of him is gone.

“No, no, no…” you mumble, shaking your head as tears fill yours eyes. Your hand covers your mouth in horror as if it alone can hold your grief in. Fox raises his blaster at you. Desperately you turn to the chancellor. “Please! Please don’t make him do this! I’ll do anything. Please don’t make him!”

He laughs in your face and you finally do as the voice in you head has willed.

You grab the blaster.

It feels foreign in your grip. You scream as a bolt from Fox’s deece grazes your left shoulder but your right hand holds tight to the one in your hand.

“PUT IT DOWN! GET DOWN ON YOUR KNEES!” Fox’s voice booms as you turn back toward him. There’s no way you will get a shot off on the chancellor. “Mouse- please-“ desperation bleeds through his words suddenly and it hurts almost as much as the singed flesh of your arm.

You raise the blaster to your head. You're going to die. You know it in your very soul. Now it was only a matter of how and who. It won’t be Fox. It will be the last thing you do-

“DO IT!”

Noise erupts around you. The doors of the Chancellor's office explode open, splinters of wood showering down.

Chaos ensues.

Another blaster bolt hits you in the right flank while your attention is divided. Everything moves in slow motion. The blaster in Fox’s hand shakes as he continues to aim it in your direction. The smell of ozone assault your senses. The room spins on its own unseen axis.

The blaster falls from your fingers with a clatter as you drop to your knees. You can’t breathe, your mind screams to draw in a breath but your body refuses to comply only allowing shallow, useless gasps.

Lights flare in your periphery purple, red, blue. Voices roar to life.

Electricity tickles at your skin as your hands press down over burnt flesh. “Fox…” his name comes out as a whimper as the transparisteel at your back shatters, shards of it bite into your back, burrow deep into your flesh. The smell of blood, the coppery tang makes your stomach heave..

Chaos is everywhere, omnipotent and overwhelming. Voices shout, threaten, and yell and you struggle to focus in on any one thing.

“Don’t take another step, vod!” You see the familiar blue and white jaig eyed bucket of Captain Rex. Twin deeces are aimed at Fox but his blaster is only half pointed, his head cocks then shakes violently. “I said stop, Fox!”

“It’s not him-“ the words come out in a choked cough, not loud enough to be heard over the cacophony of wind rising up between the buildings and the clashing of Jedi lightsabers. You press up on one arm and point shakily with your injured left arm. You try again, “it’s him!”

Rex’s helmet tips toward you but his blasters remain trained on Fox as you point toward the old man held at the tip of a purple saber.

You don’t have the strength to stay upright and your arm crumples. You fall against the red carpet with a gasp. Your shoulder bears the brunt of it causing bright hot pain to shoot anew through your body. When you're able to open your eyes, your blood mixing with the red fibers, almost imperceptibly, greets you.

“Mouse- Fierfek” the gutted sound of Fox’s voice slips into your ears, “I’m sorry. I’m-“ he voice is choked off as he grabs at his throat. Another man, lip curled back in a snarl, advances on him hand raised. His robes are dark matching the poisonous look in his eyes.

“Yes, young Skywalker. Strike him down!” The chancellor's sickly voice rises up over the winds.

“Anakin!” The Jedi wielding the purple saber snarls. You see him look back at the chancellor.

“I am the senate. You will not kill me, Jedi”

“The senate is overruled”

The purple saber flashes without hesitation. You choke back a scream as Sheev Palpatine’s head leaves his body. You struggle, dragging yourself toward Fox as his hands claw against his own throat trying to dislodge his invisible assailant.

“General! Enough!” Rex’s voice rises as you grab at Fox’s leg pulling yourself in front of him.

“Skywalker” the other man intones quietly. The purple glow retracts as he places a hand over the younger Jedi’s forearm and presses down, “let him go. This wasn’t his doing.”

You miss the choked cry the younger man bites back because whatever has held Fox at bay releases him and he falls forward, body draping over you protectively.

The winds still howl, blowing up from the deep wells of Coruscant below but it sounds distant. It doesn’t chill you like it had because Fox is with you and he’ll make everything right.

You want to tell him how much you love him. You want to kiss him just once as the darkness presses in at the edges of your vision. It’s a struggle to focus on the lines of his helmet, to pretend you can see through to the cut of his jaw, his full lips -that turn up just so when he smiles- and the soothing browns of his eyes.

“You don’t get to do this” he whispers angrily between harsh breaths. His arms wrap around your body pulling you close his nose pressing against your temple. “You don’t get to die because of me”

You tell him it’s not his fault, or at least you try. You can’t make your voice work.

Fox’s lips press roughly behind your ear. A continuous loop of promises and apologies and curses spill from his mouth. Mando’a and basic slur together. You try to keep your eyes open. You want to stay with him. It doesn’t hurt anymore so everything must be ok. Fox has made it ok…

Someone yells for a medic and the darkness overtakes you.

[diegosclownshoes]

alright, continuing within the same au, here’s the relationship progression + more on what they’ve got in common aside from being sarcastic assholes

they start of as enemies (which needs no explanation) to exasperated allies facing up against a common enemy (though for the agent she isn’t going against the handler specifically, who five wouldn’t hesitate to off if the need for it came, it’s more her mission to bring on the apocalypse that the agent’s trying to stop) to begrudging mutual respect for each other (five once he sees the agent use her abilities at her own risk to help his family make it to the alley in time, and the agent realizes five isn’t just some snotty brat but a highly skilled professional with the biggest soft spot in history for his family)

if they didn’t have the 10 day deadline, they’d probably move on to growing fondness concealed by snark right now, but unfortunately the agent faces the huge feelings of betrayal that come up once the 743 mission is revealed to her by lila. finding out this guy (and his family) that she’s been dedicated to helping, even going against the women who raised her (thought she doesn’t ever see the handler as a mother figure, she’s still a mentor who taught her everything she knows, from how to kill men 3 times her size before she learned her multiplication tables, to how to tie the laces on her boots) was the one who killed her parents. cue major feelings of conflict: she still remembers them but it’s more of a distant memory + she’s done her own fair share of killing innocent people without question. she has no right to feel this angry at five when they both spent so long knowing no other way of living. but that doesn’t make it hurt any less when she thinks of the life she could have lived beyond the commission.

however this also means once the truth is revealed, that it was the handler who put out the hit, not carmichael, and they slowly reconcile, it comes with a much greater understanding of each other. the agent already knows deep down that it was never anything personal, that it couldn’t even have been considered five’s kill, and that she knows firsthand how that disconnect from a job becomes ingrained in you. and five gets how even if he was literally doing what he had to do in order to survive, to have a chance of making it back to his family, if the same thing had happened to him and his family were killed, he would want to get revenge on the person who carried it out as well.

a few months post s2 they reunite to handle the sparrow academy situation. when the hargreeves go back to 2019 reginald immediately kicks them out with a warning to stay out of his business, and they have to decide on their next course of action. they figure hey, might as well get all the help that we can get and decide ask the agent for her help. this is where her and five’s strange friendship really solidifies itself, especially bc of the unspoken understanding between them. the agent agrees to help out not only bc she genuinely wants to, but at this point the lack of a life outside of the commission is driving her insane and she welcomes any distractions to delay the inevitable. this is also a major problem for five as well; he doesn't know what to do with himself now, not just because he's now without a purpose in life, which used to be getting back to his family, but because he doesn't know how to be happy or even take in normal experiences after spending decades with nothing to be happy about.

this’s the point where they’d be able to have a deeper understanding of each other. i’ve mentioned before that even though he’s older and considers himself more mature than his siblings, five spent decades alone. he definitely had to grow up much quicker to survive, but he missed out on his entire youth, years of social experience that he never got. he didn’t really get that time to actually mature. and when someone is forced to grow up quicker, when they reach a point in life where they don’t have to be the grownup to survive, they live out those experiences of youth that they never got the chance to before, and there’s no doubt that same thing would happen to five too.

the agent also goes through a very similar experience. though she does grow up alongside lila, it was by no means a regular childhood with friends or peers either. and because of the training she had to undergo, both for fighting and better control over her abilities, and the handler consistently drilling in her head the fact that she has to be extremely careful w it, she’s become much more guarded as well. and then when she was18 and actually did get to live on her own, it was for the sake of a mission and she was sent to 1960 all alone and had adapt to the time period. so even though she did get more experience interacting w others in more normal ways, aka not trying to kill each other, it was always with the sense of ‘this is just temporary until the mission is over’ combined w the constant state of caution she lives in too.

after the apocalypse is stopped and the imminent danger’s gone, they have the chance to actually spend time in a normal setting. now there’s that weird, almost shy type of awkwardness that comes when you meet someone who you’ve only met once before, which is made even stranger considering they’d seen each other at their worst, rage-filled and sleep deprived, borderline manic and bloody and yelling, a week into knowing each other. so now this feels like a more “real” first meeting with everyone sitting down together and having a civil conversation instead of pointing guns at each other.

+ now that they’re not in a state of crisis/survival mode anymore and their arguing isn’t as aggressive and biting, they’re both actually able to appreciate each other’s sense of wit and humor and how easily they can get lost in a back-and-forth snark session. they also spend a considerable amount of time alone together doing recon around the former umbrella, now sparrow academy given how their abilities compliment each other (five can blink them in an out and the agent can give them quick bursts of extra time to scope out the scene and get their hands on any documents that they can). plus they’re the only two who don’t have any other affairs to get in order considering that neither of them have any trace of existence beyond the commission anymore, so they’re automatically put together as partners.

also, considering that at this point five’s managed to add 10 years to himself physically neither have any major qualms about the age situation anymore either. which means there are definitely some unexpected... feelings that crop up too (to no one’s surprise). and so now begins the beloved mutual pining stage with a side of classic repression where they do anything they can to tell themselves they don’t like each other that way, don’t be ridiculous. and since the agent and five are both textbook examples of emotionally stunted adults via their poor childhoods, their attempts to cover up their feelings basically amount to even more bickering and teasing than usual (”sure you don’t need a crate to stand on, agent?” “sure you don’t need me to knock out some of those baby teeth that you’ve got left, five?”), some creative nicknames (”no they’re not pet names, shut up diego”) and extra long side-eyes. aka, the growing fondness concealed by snark stage. between this and the fact that they’re now both attractive early 20 somethings who, for the first time in their lives, have the time to actually develop feelings for someone, the resulting tension is more than palpable.

meanwhile the hargreeves roll their eyes at the two arguing like they've been married for five decades and wonder when they’ll realize that the constant ranting/grumbling about each other just means they can’t get each other off their minds.

[snowdice]

Goblin Brain Study Session Fic 1 [Day 28]

Because I don’t want to just have walls of text for my Goblin Brain Study Session posts, I’m separating them by days. If you want to read the previous chapters, click the links below. I have chapter 10 done, but not edited and what I have done of chapter 11 under the cut.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

See this post for more details and feel free to send me asks to keep me going! It’s been a lot of fun so far! I will reblog this post with the story as I write them today.

I have no idea if I’m going to get interrupted as there has been a surprise small child in my home the last couple of days, but I have a meeting tomorrow and really need to do stuff so I’m trying to sneak a bit of time in while small child is distracted.

Janus could feel his heartbeat speed up at his looked at his phone, but he didn’t dare let that show. He calmly clicked the talk button on his phone. “Hello, mother. How can I help you?” he asked.

“I’d like an update on the situation with the Gates boy,” she said.

“I’m currently on his trail,” Janus informed her. “He had an unfortunate head start because of Kinsley, but I have managed to figure out he went to the nearby grocery store and saw him on security footage. I should be making more progress soon.”

“I see,” she replied. “The boy used his phone.”

“Well that’s good for our aims,” Janus replied. “I assume you were able to track the call.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “He was attempting to call his uncle. He has managed to get impressively far. I will send you the details of his location.” She paused. “Wait, it seems he’s currently attempting another call to an unknown number. Strange, there doesn’t seem to be a record of it in any database. You wouldn’t possibly know the number 309-555-0721.” Fuck. That was his other phone number… the phone number of the phone he broke earlier.

“No, I don’t,” Janus lied. God dammit. Why did he break that phone?

She hummed, seeming to accept that. “I see you are still at the grocery store. I’m sending people to meet up with you at that location.”

Oh fuck.

“Is that really necessary?” Janus asked sounding bored. “Surely I can handle it myself.”

“It will be more efficient to have multiple people working together especially with a drive that far,” she said. He could tell by her tone that there was no room for argument.

“Of course,” Janus replied.

“Good. I have already sent them your location.” She hung up without another word.

Janus looked down at his phone. “Well,” he said. “I’m dead.”

“That bad, huh?” Remus asked.

“She’s sending people to ‘help’ me.”

“Shit.”

“You said the security cameras upload straight to the cloud, right?” Janus asked.

“Yep,” Remus confirmed.

“Well. No way out of it then.” His phone beeped with details about Virgil’s location. Calmly, Janus walked around the car and opened the door to get the atlas Remy had gotten him when he’d turned 16. He’d scoffed at it because of GPS, but he’d kept it even when he’d gotten rid of the car mother had given him for the same occasion. He opened the map of the state and circled the location Virgil was at on the map.

Just as he finished that, he was also forwarded the names and locations of the two goons coming for him. “Convenient,” he said glancing at their current positions. Then he raised his arm as high as he could and threw the phone onto the ground. “Remus,” Janus said. “Remember all the times you’ve talked about wanting to blow this car to hell?”

“Yes!!” he said excitedly. “To be fair it’s any car, but yes!!!”

“Wait!” Roman said. “Why are we blowing up the car?”

“Distraction,” Janus replied. “The path they’re on should take them over Washington Bridge, so if we blow it up on that, it should delay them by quite a bit. Plus, mom can track it and they’ll probably loop back trying to find me.”

“Isn’t there, like, a better idea maybe?” Roman asked.

Remus reached over and put his hand over Roman’s mouth. “Shh, Roman, let me have this.” Roman shoved him away.

“We’ll go get one of your cars, drive mine to the bridge, and Remus can do his,” he waved his hand at him, “thing.”

“…I still don’t think.”

“Trust us, Ro-Ro.” Remus threw an arm around his shoulder.

“See, that makes me think this is even worse of an idea.”

“Look,” Janus bit out. “I know my mother and as soon as she figures out I’m fucking her over, they’ll be literally gunning for us. Blowing up the car will delay them as well as destroy the tracker and any information they can get from the car.”

“Okay,” Roman agreed, though he still didn’t seem comfortable with it. Apparently, he gotten all of the responsibility in the womb.

Speaking of… Remus had already taken the laptop and packed it back up before throwing it none to gently into the trunk. Roman winced, but Janus shrugged. It was going to get destroyed anyway. Janus couldn���t resist smiling at the excitement in Remus’s eyes as he slammed the trunk closed and made his way to the passenger seat.

“We’re taking my car though,” Roman insisted. “I’m not getting in his death trap.”

Having seen the car for himself, Janus nodded. “Agreed.”

They drove back to get Roman’s car and then Remus requested grabbing something from his own car.

“Why do you even have that in your car?!” Roman shouted from his car’s window as Remus unpacked explosives from his trunk.

“In case of emergencies!”

“What type of emergen-”

“This type!”

Janus just shook his head, and Remus packed the explosives into the trunk of Janus’s car and then himself into the passenger seat. Then they drove off towards the bridge only about 10 minutes away. Remus wiggled in excitement in his seat.

“Calm down,” Janus attempted to snap, but it just came out fond. Disgusting.

Remus just gave him a dopey smile.

Janus turned back to the road. “I hope you know this means your cover is blown as well.”

“Yeah, ah well, it was only a matter of time anyway,” he said, shrugging. “I will have to move though. That’s going to suck.”

Janus hummed noncommittally.

“Ooo, we should go in on an apartment together!”

Janus glanced over at him in surprise. “What?”

“And we can get a cat!” Remus said instead of answering him. “I love cats, but my current apartment won’t let me have one. That’ll be on the list of things to look for: an apartment that allows pets.”

“Why would we even be moving in with each other?” Janus asked.

“Well, you’re not going to be living with mommy dearest after today and we’re best friends.”

“We’re partners,” Janus replied blankly.

“And best friends!”

“I… you… we’ll discuss this later. I have too much to think about right now.”

Remus shrugged and startled rambling about how ‘big the bomb is going to be.’ Meanwhile, Janus did his best to firmly shoved the word “best friends” as far down as possible.

The arrived at the bridge quickly and Janus parked it in the middle of it; Roman parked at the other end of the bridge.

“Well, don’t leave anything in the car,” Janus said. Remus nodded, back to bouncing up and down in his seat at the prospect of the explosives.

Janus trusted Remus to know what he was doing with the explosives and simply walked away from his car towards Roman’s. There was a loud explosion when they were about 200 feet away from the car. Janus suppressed a flinch.

“You could have waited until we were completely off the bridge,” Janus commented mildly.

“But we look cooler like this,” Remus argued with a manic grin. “Plus, I saw a car coming towards the bridge on the other side and didn’t want them to get on the bridge before the explosion.”

Roman had his window rolled down when they approached. “Remus is in back.”

Remus put a hand over his heart like he’d been wounded. “I’m your brother. I should get shot-gun.”

“I am not allowing you access to the radio. I’ve been on too many road trips with you.”

“Dad’s the one who insists on playing a mix of geek rock and explicit rap music which he completely doesn’t understanding the lyrics of,” Remus pointed out with a pout.

“And I should have disowned the both of you years ago. Get in the back seat.”

“But…”

Janus ended the sibling dispute by getting in the passenger seat himself.

Remus grumbled as he got in the back seat. Janus opened the atlas and found them on the map. “Get on the interstate heading East,” he instructed Roman.

The question on how on Earth they were going to find Virgil when he was moving rather quickly crossed Janus’s mind, but he smothered it. They’d stop and do some investigation once they were closer to his current location. It would be fine.

Roman glanced over at him as he started to drive and sighed. “You may have control of the radio as passenger,” he offered. “Just, please do not betray me.”

Janus sent him a wry smile and let himself get distracted messing with the radio. He flipped through a few stations before landing on one that seemed to be devoted mostly to Latin pop.

“Yes,” Roman said. “A great decision.”

“No,” Remus whined when he stopped on that station and leaned back. “You’re supposed to find the one that annoys Roman the most. It’s in the spirit of the road trip.”

“That seems ridiculous,” Janus commented.

“It is,” Roman agreed.

“Noooo. Embrace the spirit of the road trip.”

“Well finding a station that Roman likes seems to annoy you the most. So, I guess I am ‘embracing the spirit of the road trip.’”

Remus made a mournful sound and Roman chortled. “You’re my new favorite person,” Roman said.

Janus found himself smiling despite himself.

“Just for that, I get naming rights for our cat,” Remus informed him seriously.

“What cat?” Roman asked.

“Janus and I are going to get an apartment together since his mom’s going to try to murder us both and we’re going to get a cat.”

“Ah,” Roman said as though that made total sense to him. Janus guessed growing up with Remus made it easy to accept such statements. “Don’t let him name it. He’ll name it something stupid.”

“I will not!”

“You tried to name our hamster Sexy Dorito!” Roman exclaimed and then looked at Janus. “Who names a hamster… who names anything Sexy Dorito??” he asked.

“The same person who accidently died his hair neon pink on a covert mission,” Janus answered.

“Hey!” Remus said, leaning forward to insert his face between the driver and passenger seats. “No!”

“Put your seatbelt on, Remus,” Janus ordered.

“Oh, you’ve got to tell me about that one,” Roman said.

“No! Don’t betray me, Janus!”

Janus did, in fact, betray him.

  Chapter 11

Virgil smiled awkwardly at the cashier when he entered the gas station. He went straight to the coffee to get Patton one. He went ahead and got the largest size cup because they were probably going to be a while and started to fill it up at the machine.

He… didn’t quite understand why the man was still going to be driving him when he didn’t have a knife on him, but hopefully it wasn’t a trick. It was probably a trick. He should probably tell the cashier he’d been kidnapped.

But then the cashier would definitely call the cops and knowing his mother Virgil would definitely be screwed.

So, instead, Virgil put the lid on Patton’s coffee and found that there was one plain donut with chocolate frosting still in the case. He grabbed that and then searched around the candy aisle for a bit. He finally settled on a pack of Red Vines and grabbed a blue raspberry slushie. If he was going to get axe murdered by some guy that kept a stuffed bear named Barnaby in his car, he was going to do so with a blue tongue.

He handed over the 20-dollar bill to the cashier and then gathered up the snacks and drinks to take them to the car.

He caught Patton with his phone in his hands while he was pumping gas. “Hey, what are you doing?” Virgil asked.

“Just sending a text to my brother so he doesn’t worry too much,” Patton replied quickly. Virgil gave him a suspicious look. When it became clear that Virgil wasn’t going to willingly take a step closer to the car after that, Patton sighed and held out his phone. “You can see,” he said.

Virgil set the drinks and snacks down on the hood of the car and took the phone. The phone indeed was open to just a string of emojis sent to someone called “Lo-Lo” in Patton’s phone. The string of emojis read (insert emoji string)

“There is… no way he’d understand that,” Virgil said. “I barely understand it and I lived it.” He paused. “I am not a baby.”

Patton snatched the phone back. “I didn’t say you were.”

“You typed ‘knife baby’ in emoji!” Virgil said.

“Baby with a knife actually,” Patton said unrepentant. He grabbed his coffee and donut off the hood of the car and opened the driver’s door to put the drink in the cup holder and the donut on the seat. Then, he went to finish up pumping the gas.

[danyka-fendyr]

Absence of Good - 5

Chapter 5:Head Above Water

Hey everybody guess who’s back from hiatus! Okay, so this is a bit of a long one, which I’m actually rather pleased about. I took a break to let my creative muse simmer, and I think it turned out pretty good! Hotch kind of gets more of a spotlight in this chapter, which is important to me because I want to emphasize reader’s connection with the other characters and not just Spencer. What can I say? I’m a sucker for slowburn. Anyway, hope it was worth the wait! (This hasn’t been proofread so it might not be.)

Taglist: @dreamwritesimagines​ @rhabakoli​

AoG Taglist: @pancakefancake​ @prettyboyspenerrr​

Wordcount: 3844

Warnings: Generally disturbing themes. Mentions of death, sexual assault, drowning and other dark themes.

        “War is what happens when language fails.”

                 -Margaret Atwood

        You had never been more terrified of an assignment than this one. And that was saying something.

Through everything that had happened to you in your line of work, there had always been an element of a safety net. Despite all the danger, despite the horrors you saw every day, there was some comfort in the knowledge of two things. The first was that you would get to go home at the end of the day to your loving bed. The second was that you were not the target. You were not the target.

“Are you sure about this?” You asked Hotch, trying to hide the slight wavering in your voice.

“You’ve seen the pictures, Agent Y/L/N. I don’t think I need to tell you how sure of this I am.”

You swallowed thickly, holding the glossy images between your fingers. You hated the texture of them between your hands, had never liked the sticky grip of a fresh printed photograph stealing your fingerprints, so easy to mark up. It stressed you out. These photos did a little more than stress you out though.

“How…this is…”

“Uncanny,” Hotch finished for you.

You two were alone in his office, which should have meant bad news to you on any day, but you had hoped for the best. You had thought maybe he was going to tell you off for helping Reid prank Morgan. Perhaps he had actually called you in to tell you some good news. That had been too happy to hope for though.

“Yes. Uncanny,” you echoed.

“The message seems clear enough though.”

“Say it,” you whispered.

Hotch looked reluctant, like the words would sound almost as bad coming from his as they would from you.

“This unsub is obsessed with you.”

Every girl looked exactly like you. Some of the more recent kills had even been made to look more like you. Hair dyed, styled. One with colored contacts to turn her eyes your same vivid hue. No one could blame you for the single tear that slipped down your face and landed on the dark, lemon scented wood of Hotch’s desk. No one could blame you for your complete inability to look away from all of your dopplegangers.

No…not dopplegangers. Replicas. Created to be perfect mirror images of you.

You felt like you were going to throw up.

“Who-“ You cut yourself off.

“We don’t know.” You had never heard Hotch speak so softly, his voice a gentle murmur. “Agent Rossi and myself are the only two who know about this right now. We thought we should tell you before the rest of the team. We’ve been looking through old cases trying to find someone who escaped but we haven’t met with any luck. Which leads us to believe…”

“That it’s someone I know in my personal life.”

“Most likely.” Hotch’s face was grim, his mouth a thin line.

It aged him, you realized. Every time one of the members of his team was in mortal danger, the years seemed to pile on, making him seem 10, 20, 30 years older than he was. It was jolting to realize that Hotch was not all that old, not in the grand scheme of things. That to Rossi, he was young, comparatively. For a moment you felt you were closer in maturity to Jack, his son, than you were to SSA Aaron Hotchner.

“I’ll go tell the rest of the team,” you whispered.

You tried to move, but you couldn’t seem to do it. For a moment you simply did not have the willpower to rise up out of that chair, an island keeping you afloat just off the continental shelf of the ocean that was Hotch’s desk, a buffer between you two. The terror held you in place, eyes still glued to those pictures, to the broken bodies in them.

“You don’t have to,” Hotch offered, throwing you a lifeline. “Agent Rossi and I can handle it.”

You should have taken it. Should have fallen to your knees and blubbered out your gratefulness. That’s what any sensible person would do. Anyone who had not read too many fantasy stories of heroines who put on a brave face and too many textbooks about how the shock could make you numb to things. If there was anyone willing to play their own brain it was you, and right now you were ready to play it like a fiddle that would be too shocked to process your own grief and terror.

“No. I can do it.”

You wiped your face clean, unashamedly whipping out a compact mirror to make sure you still looked presentable. You didn’t have to bother hiding anything from Hotch. He could care less how much or how little you cared about your appearance, as long as you remained professional. You had always liked that about him. How comfortable he was to be around when it came down to it. How trustworthy.

You didn’t look like you had been crying. That was good. You would lose the respect of 75% of the office if you did, and that was a convenient thing to have sometimes.

“Let’s go,” you said, finally finding the willpower to stand.

You didn’t look at the photos. You couldn’t. Not if you wanted to hold on to the shellshock, the numbness that would buoy you through this briefing.

The bullpen wasn’t ready for your announcement. You could see them all gathered around Spence’s desk, speculating. You knew what they were doing because you had done the same thing on a few occasions. They were trying to figure out why Hotch had called you in, laughing to themselves, smiling. You almost couldn’t bear to tell them, to wipe the smiles off their faces.

You took a deep breath, squaring your shoulders.

Spencer was the first to notice. To see the stone look carved into marble features and to freeze, his amber eyes going dark. It didn’t take the others long to notice, to put together your clenched jaw and Spencer’s tense posture. If there was one thing they knew better than serial killers, it was the face of a bearer of bad news.

“What happened?” JJ asked.

“We have a case. Briefing room, now.” You got there before Hotch could.

There was no hesitation, only an icy edge to the air as you all headed to the briefing room, closing the door behind you. You let Hotch do the setup, the man knowing you well enough to know that you wanted those pictures behind you. You couldn’t look at them while you told the team. It was bad enough seeing Garcia’s gasp as she pieced it together, and Spencer…You could barely look at Spencer, first to pick up the pieces, first to figure things out, first to have a thousand emotions flicker across his face. He was angry, he was sad, he was sick, he was terrified.

You tried to start, but the words stuck in your throat, so Hotch gave you a push.

“We’ve all dealt with unsubs of a more personal nature in the past. As you can all see, this is, unfortunately, one of those times.”

“This unsub has a connection to me. Obviously.” You tried to keep the words from shaking, gripping the edge of the table to hide the tremors running through you while coaching yourself to get a grip. “At first, he chose victims who look like me. He’s become more manic though, with less time between kills. It’s no longer enough to wait for girls who look like me. He’s desperate enough that he doesn’t care what they look like, but meticulous enough to model them after me. Additionally, he is still careful enough to pick girls with similar lifestyles. Low-risk victims with strong educational backgrounds, all the same age as me.”

The words were starting to run dry as it felt like the world might slip out from under your feet. You were sure your legs were going numb, sure that someone was freezing all the blood inside your body in some kind of twisted science experiment. You knew he had frozen the bodies, kept them for a while to do things you didn’t want to think about right now. Oh gosh, oh gosh, oh gosh, you had to make it through this briefing, had to make the words keep coming, but how.

“We believe this unsub is obsessed with Agent Y/L/N, and knowing this we can only assume that as his cooling off period decreases the danger to Y/N increases. There is some good news though. The unsub seems to be deteriorating, which could lead him to make a mistake.” Hotch took over.

“How did so many of these bodies turn up without us noticing?” JJ asked, horror in her eyes.

“The unsub crossed state lines. He’s clever, very much so. Medical reports indicate that he keeps the bodies frozen for a period of time before dumping them, and there are signs of sexual assault, though it appears to have been done with a blunt object. Some of the bodies he brought across state lines, which only further complicates things.”

“But we’re going to catch this psycho, right Hotch?”

Morgan’s righteous anger was normally calming, but now not even he could reach through your panic.

“We’re doing everything in our power to track down this unsub now that it has been brought to our attention. I fought for them to let our team have this case, so I expect you all to be at the top of your game. Agent Y/L/N, for obvious reasons, will not be apart of the investigation, but rather will be in protective custody.”

You swiveled, your legs nearly giving out beneath you but not quite.

“No she will not be,” you protested.

“This unsub is targeting you directly. The safest place for you to be is-“

“Surrounded by my team. At best, cooped up here. But I refuse to be sidelined and tucked away in some safehouse Hotch. You said I probably know this guy. So who better to help track him down than me?” You appealed to Hotch’s sense of reason, that sense that always won out with him. “You need me for this Hotch. You can’t find this guy without me.”

Just when you thought Hotch would agree, Spencer stood from the table, slamming a hand down with more aggression than you thought him capable of.

“Absolutely not!”

You felt the blood rush back to your extremities as it rose to color your face, Spencer’s protest bringing you back to yourself. You clenched your fists, turning the full might of your own fury on him even as he stared at you with eyes that seemed to blaze with fire.

“Reid, she has a point. She’s the only one who knows the unsub-“

“So we’re just going to use her as bait?” You had never seen Spence so livid, his eyes tearing up with the emotion. “I won’t let you put her in danger like that, Hotch. She shouldn’t be anywhere near this case.”

“I’ll be wherever I need to be, and right now that’s here, Spencer.”

There were few people who could match Dr. Spencer Reid. His mother was one of them, an unstoppable force. The eccentric, immutable Gideon, you had heard, was another. You were the third, fire rising to meet fire, washing out any trace of ice, any danger of drowning that might have existed before this moment, this challenge. There were a lot of people Spencer Reid was good and entitled to boss around, but you were most certainly not one of them.

“It’s too dangerous, I won’t let you-“

“Won’t let me? Well I’ve got news for you Spencer, you’re not my boss. You have no claim over me, no say in what I do or don’t do. I’m helping with this case because if you ever want to find this guy, you need me.”

Spencer looked like he was going to say more, but Rossi interrupted him. A dangerous thing to do for anyone other than Rossi.

“She’s right, kid. I hate to say it almost as much as you do, but she’s right. A case like this, could be anyone. You know that. You also know it’s entirely possible that she’s the only person in the entire world who can connect the dots. We’re not just throwing her to the wolves though. We’ll keep her safe.”

You had never seen Spencer looked so betrayed as he had now, looking first to Rossi, then turning to the rest of the table in a silent plea for support. He found none. Reluctant as the team was, you had made your point.

Turning on his heel, Spencer stormed out of the room. You had half a mind to follow him, but it was Rossi who held you back.

“Let him go. He’ll come back soon. He won’t be able to leave you alone at a time like this.”

You didn’t know where Rossi’s certainty had come from, but you could hear it in his voice, and you decided to trust him on this. After all, you would have to trust your team on a lot until this guy was safely behind bars.

The next few days were taxing, to say the least. You had gone through just about every person you had ever met trying to figure out who the unsub was. People you were close to, people you had barely known, and everything in-between. You were about ready to give up, nearly asleep with your head on Garcia’s desk as she cast her sympathetic gaze your way.

“Honestly, it really could be anybody. Sometimes these guys just see you smile at them once in the street and they’re insane for you. They’re wacky.”

“You can say that again.” You sighed.

You were in an extra bad mood tonight. You and Spencer hadn’t been talking lately, not since your fight over whether you should be involved in this. Despite the fact that you were confined to Garcia’s office and that Hotch wouldn’t so much as let you go home, Spencer’s vow of silence did not lift. It seemed as though he was refusing to condone your involvement in this with words.

Which was just as well, you didn’t need him. That was what you were telling yourself. You were just cranky and on edge because of everything else going on in your life. Heaven only knew you had a right to be.

“Boy genius still not on speaking terms with you?”

To add to your stressors, Garcia had been getting unnervingly good at guessing your thoughts.

“I don’t want to talk about him right now. Any activity from the unsub?” You quickly changed subjects.

“Well I haven’t heard from them in a while, but let me ask my brown sugar.”

Deftly pressing buttons, Garcia dialed Morgan, putting him on speaker so you could hear too.

“Hey baby girl.”

“Hello my gorgeous chocolate thunder. I was wondering, could you perhaps update me on the situation?”

“For you? Anything. We just got done talking to the M.E. about the newest body. Apparently he’s now taken to dressing them up as cheerleaders, presumably in reference to Y/N’s high school cheerleading career. Anyway, not much else has changed about his M.O., nothing we’ve noticed yet anyway-“

“Wait…Morgan…did you just say he’s dressing them up in cheer uniforms?” You asked.

“I sure did. Why? Does that mean something to you?”

“Morgan…I was never a cheerleader.” You felt like all the air had been swept out of your lungs. “I don’t think this is about me.”

The team had all headed back to Quantico at record speeds, made faster by the fact that the unsub had been getting closer and closer to Virginia in his killing sprees. They were now assembled in front of you in the briefing room, but this time you hoped to shed more light on the situation.

“When I was 16, I fell in with a bad crowd. Well, not a bad crowd, but you know. Not my kind of people. I was a quiet book nerd and they were party people. Anyway, I was going through some things and I wanted to be cool, so I let them convince me to go to this party. Long story short, it wasn’t fun. The highlight of the night though, I remember, was this girl. Amber Melfort. She and her boyfriend got into this big fight, and it was obvious he was drunk. He hit her, hit her pretty hard, and she fell. Fell into the pool, and didn’t get back out.

Her boyfriend, as you may have figured out, was not a class act. I think he thought that if she really was dead then if he left her there nobody would know it was him. I don’t really know what he thought, to be honest. Don’t really want to know. Anyway you slice it, that didn’t sit right with me. He walked away, but I dived into the pool, fully clothed, and managed to drag Amber out. Did CPR, got somebody half-sober to call 911. At the end of it all, Amber pulled through and her boyfriend, Matt, got kicked off the football team.”

“No offense, but I’m not sure I see how this is related to the case.” Emily’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Amber was a cheerleader,” I said. “Whatever this is about, it isn’t just about me. It’s also about Amber.”

Emily’s eyes widened in understanding, as did everyone else’s at the table.

“It’s certainly worth looking into. Reid, you and Dave go interview Amber Melfort, find out whatever you can. Morgan, Prentiss, I want you to find the boyfriend and make a house call.”

You all collectively scattered, and you and Garcia went back to researching whatever else you could.

“Alright, looks like Amber lives alone not far from here. Apparently she’s been dating a life guard, irony of all ironies, and according to her social media…Oh, major bummer. Turns out up until a couple months ago they were engaged until she broke it off because he was cheating on her.”

“Poor Amber,” you said.

The girl deserved a break.

“Yeah. Okay, so anyway, she hasn’t had any contact with the boyfriend, Matt, in years. He doesn’t live too near here either, which might be why the killings started further out but seem to be circling in.”

“Any stressors in Matt’s life?”

“Oh beautiful baby doll you know that I already looked and weirdly, I have not come up with much. It would seem that, to all appearances, Matt is living the perfect life. In fact, he even just got married. And other than their status as Facebook friends, he and Amber no longer have any kind of connection. He hasn’t even liked any of her posts in over a year.”

You felt the wind get knocked out of you. “I guess my theory was wrong then.”

“Seems like that might be the case. I’m sorry angel cakes.”

You were more than ready to give up. You had been ready to give up for weeks, but now? Now you were convinced you were going to be drowned and buried in a cheerleading uniform.

It didn’t make sense. All of the signs had pointed to a connection to Amber, right down to the drownings which you hadn’t been able to connect before the cheerleading outfit. You were at your wit’s end when your cellphone began ringing.

You did a double take when you saw the number. Spence rarely called, but right now he was angry with you. It didn’t make any sense for him to call. Unless…maybe he had found something. Heard from Amber that there was someone else who was a potential danger.

You picked up the phone, hoping against all hope, only to be filled with cold fear.

“Y/N, it’s Dave. My phone is dead, but we’re on the way to the hospital. Spencer’s been hurt.”

“I’m on my way.” Screw the unsub, you were not leaving Spencer alone in some stupid hospital.

“Okay. Let me know when you get here.”

When you arrived at the hospital, you found Dave quickly and he explained everything that had happened to you. Amber had been the unsub all along, dealing with her trauma the only way she knew how.

Her fiancé cheating on her had been the stressor. Apparently Matt had been cheating on her way back when and that was what they had been arguing about at the party just before he struck her, nearly dooming her to a watery grave. In a twisted reenactment, she had been playing out her memories by killing not herself, but the girl who had come to save her, all in the hopes of gaining your attention. She had become obsessed with you and with your work, and ultimately it led to her revealing herself and having a shoot-out with Spence.

“Is he okay?”

“The doctors think he’s going to be fine. She only grazed his arm,” Rossi reassured.

You breathed a sigh of relief. “Can I go see him?”

“Yes, I think they’re allowing visitors now.”

You didn’t stay behind to listen to Garcia’s speeches about charts before charging ahead.

“Spence.” You breathed a sigh of relief seeing him awake.

He looked towards you and for the first time in days, a hint of a smile pulled at his mouth.

“Hey,” he said. “Did you bring me Jell-O?”

“No. But I can,” you said, turning to go get some.

“No! I mean, that’s okay. Don’t leave yet.”

He looked so pale under the harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital. A white bandage wrapped around his arm and nearly matched his skin as well as the sheets. The dark marks under his eyes stuck out even harsher for it.

You drifted over to his bedside, taking a hesitant seat in the hard, alcohol scented chair next to his bed.

“Listen…Spence…I’m sorry,” you confessed. “I’ve been stupid. When I heard you were hurt, all I could think about was how if you died I wouldn’t have gotten to tell you…Well, I wouldn’t have been able to tell you that I’m an idiot. You were only trying to protect me, and I’m sorry for not seeing that and respecting it.”

“No, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have gotten so angry at you, shouldn’t have wasted all that time being mad at you for being right. In the end, you were the one who solved the case and the one who saved the day. Even when you aren’t in the field you’re a brilliant agent, and I…I was just worried. I thought maybe I could lose you, and if I did…I don’t want to think about what would happen. So please forgive me for being so selfish and stubborn.”

You smiled softly at him, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze.

“Forgiven.”

He smiled widely at you, a smile you hadn’t seen since before the threat to your life. “I’ll take that Jell-O now.”

“Coming right up.”

        “The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him.”

                 -G.K. Chesterton

[elceeu2morrow]

NEW DIRECTION Louis Tomlinson on why he’s not ready to make up with Zayn Malik and how fatherhood made him grow-up fast

Beth Neil  2 Feb 2020, 0:01  Updated: 2 Feb 2020, 3:06

Back then he didn’t appear to be a natural frontman. He wasn’t one to hog the spotlight, nor did he seem remotely interested in competing with the magnetism of Harry or the vocal range of Zayn.

“There were times I struggled to find my place in the band,” Louis admits today.

But it’s often the quiet ones you’ve got to look out for.

Behind the scenes he was very much centre stage: Louis was the mouthpiece, constantly fighting the boys’ corner and acting as chief negotiator between band and management.

“Being from Doncaster,” he says, “I’ve never had a problem with telling anyone ‘no’.”

On top of this (and perhaps most significantly), in the six years that the band were together after finishing third on The X Factor in 2010, Louis diligently racked up more songwriting credits than any of the others, hinting that a hard-working and ambitious young artist lurked beneath the surface.

Indeed, while he might be the last of the band to release a solo album (four years after they announced their hiatus, breaking several million hearts in the process), the result suggests that Louis, having held his nerve and bided his time, might just prove to be the dark horse.

“There was a while when I was worried I was getting left behind – some of the boys are on to their second album now,” he says, taking a draw onthe first of several cigarettes. “At times, I’ve been swimming against the tide, working out who I am. I was trying to find a way back into the industry, thinking of it mathematically rather than going off feeling and emotion.”

He’s referring to collaborations with Bebe Rexha and Steve Aoki in 2016 and 2017 respectively, which, although successful, weren’t where his heart lay. With Kill My Mind – the exhilarating ’90s-inspired opening track of the album Walls – he sets his stall out with a clear departure from anything he’s done before.

Walls is about regret, reflection and ultimately, hope, and feels like Louis, who sings in his still-broad Doncaster accent, has finally found his voice.

“I’ve always wanted to be autobiographical and honest. And in the last six months the songs I’ve written and recorded are of a better standard because there’s an honesty there,” he says.

Honesty certainly characterises the album, sometimes devastatingly so. There’s no escaping the fact that Louis, 28, has faced unimaginable pain over the last few years.

First losing his mum Johannah Deakin, known as Jay, in December 2016 to leukaemia, and then his sister Félicité, who died last year aged 18 following an accidental drug overdose.

The lyrics to Two Of Us, written about his mum, include intimate details about Louis’ experience with grief.

“It wasn’t until after I’d written it that I realised how much vulnerability I’d put in there,” he says. “When I first performed it… I had fans coming up to me in tears telling me their stories, and that’s not something I’ve ever had before. And to do it on that level about something so delicate… It was really cool to take something so dark and make people feel like that.

“I had to get a song like that off my chest. It was difficult writing about things that felt trivial compared to what was going on in my life. There was, I think, a necessity to write that song before I could move on creatively.”

Understandably, Louis won’t talk specifically about Félicité. But when asked about how grief has shaped him both as a man and an artist, he pays tribute to Jay.

“I think it’s a credit to how my mum brought me up that I have a resilience,” he says. “There’s nothing I want less than to have people feel sorry for me, so having that mentality has helped me through the hardest of times.

"I’ve also felt a real support system through my fans. I’d always felt it on a lower level, but when it’s something so impactful and life-defining, I really did feel it from them.”

Days after Jay’s death, Louis appeared live on The X Factor to perform Just Hold On with Aoki.

He was clearly in pieces and it was hard enough just watching, but somehow he held it together, presumably thanks again to that resilience.

“Sometimes it’s fight or flight,” Louis explains. “And the way I was brought up and because of where I’m from, I only see one option in that situation. I also wanted to put myself second and do it for my mum.

"That moment was bigger than me and it was actually incredibly liberating. It used every bit of strength and power and I look back on that performance as one of the proudest moments of my career.”

He says he tends not to suppress emotion and is able to share his darkest points with those he’s closest to.

But as the eldest of Jay’s seven children (five girls and two boys), he also feels a huge weight of responsibility towards his younger siblings and hasn’t had any professional therapy himself.

“No, no, nothing like that. That might be down to a bit of Northern pride, but I have a lot of responsibility on my shoulders and that drives me. I’ve got siblings who look up to me and I’ve got my grandparents as well. So all those things keep my head screwed on.

“My mum had a massive influence on me and I lived with a lot of sisters in the house, so I do find it easier to speak about my emotions. But I’m also from Doncaster, where to be a guy is to be tough and traditional and I feel like [there are] times where pride kicks in and I just say I’m all right.

"I’m lucky that I’ve got good people around me who I can trust and who I can be completely vulnerable with and say how I feel. Nine times out of 10, I don’t bottle things up. I wear my heart on my sleeve.”

[below the cut is the rest of the unedited article - including Eleanor, Freddie, 1D]

His model, blogger and politics graduate girlfriend Eleanor Calder, 27, who Louis first got together with back in 2010 during the last week of The X Factor (“before it got manic”) has been a crucial part of the stability he’s needed through such sadness.

“She’s been amazing. With any monumental time in your life you need people who understand and love you. She makes my life easier.”

In 2015 they split up for nearly two years during which time Louis became a dad to Freddie, now four, following a brief fling with LA stylist Briana Jungwirth.

The track Too Young is almost an apology to Eleanor for that period (“I’m sorry I hurt you, darling… I cut you off cos I didn’t know no better”), but Louis says the time apart taught him some tough lessons and has made them stronger.

“I think we both agree that we needed [that break]. I was too immature for a relationship of that seriousness. But I had to learn that and be an idiot first.

“A lot of young men won’t understand until they have hindsight. The responsibility of meeting someone you could spend the rest of your life with at 18 is too much for most immature men. I was very immature at that → age and didn’t understand the feelings or importance.”

He and Eleanor guard their privacy ferociously and very deliberately haven’t made themselves a public couple. They don’t go to places where they’ll get papped or post pictures of each other on social media.

“Me and Eleanor have been together ages and I don’t have a lot of private photos for myself,” he says. “Even on a night out there’ll be some f**ker taking my picture and it goes everywhere.

"So those moments to ourselves are special. It’s the same way I look at Freddie. Do I wanna show him off and tell the world how amazing he is? Yes, of course I do! But I know he’s amazing and he knows that and that’s what matters.”

He dotes on Freddie (“I cherish my time with my boy”) but admits the unplanned pregnancy was a wake-up call.

“Yeah, it was unexpected and I had to grow up very quickly. It was another one of them moments – being faced with the reality of a situation and having to step up. It was a very maturing time in my life.

“And, again, I’ve kind of got between two headspaces. I’m the responsible dad and brother some days and other days I’m still the reckless idiot chav I used to be. I’m still trying to work out a happy medium.”

Absolutely no one could have predicted the global phenomenon that 1D became, least of all Louis, Liam, Zayn, Niall and Harry themselves.

They sold 20 million albums worldwide, earning over £40million each, but the pressures of fame were, at times, intolerable. Louis says they were only able to keep their heads screwed on because they had each other.

“You can never be prepared for that. It was such a head f**k. But we grounded each other so the minute one of us acted like a d**khead one of the others would say: ‘Stop being a d**khead’. I see people in this job surrounding themselves with superiority and they lose the concept of the real world.”

He remembers doing a shoot with the band for Pepsi over in the States with American footballer Drew Brees.

“This guy was like a god and we were insignificant when he was around, which we understood. But I’ve never seen anything like it. Every sentence that came out of his mouth he’d have an audience of hangers-on in hysterics.

"These people were so far up his arse and he didn’t have one good joke. He had no banter! I still hang around with my boys from Doncaster and I hear real stories all the time, which helps me understand the world that unfortunately I don’t get to see. Having empathy with people and a connection with the world is imperative for any songwriter.”

Harry Styles recently said that he never touched drugs during his time in the band (although he’s made up for that since), because he didn’t want to “mess it up”. Louis smiles as he confides that he can’t say the same.

“All I’ll say is that I did my fair share and enjoyed my time in the band. It’s right what Harry said and it was smart of him, but I definitely had a lot of fun in the band. I was always aware of how amazing the opportunity was, but also enjoying the moment for what it was. I lived like anyone else my age – the difference was that I was in One Direction.”

He’s in touch with Harry, Niall and Liam “sporadically” (we’ll come to Zayn shortly), but they’re all on very different paths for now.

“If we all went to a pub tomorrow it’d be like we’d never left. The enormity of what happened in One Direction creates a massive bond and we’ll always have that.

"There have been times when we’ve done each other’s heads in. There might be something I say in an interview that bugs Liam or vice versa, but we all know what each other is like and we can call each other up and say sorry for being a d**k. We’re like brothers.”

But that’s not necessarily the case with Zayn, who quit in 2015 and with whom Louis has had a turbulent relationship since. He was hurt when Zayn was the only one not to turn up at the X Factor studio to support him through his performance after Jay’s death, despite promising to be there.

Then there’s Zayn’s apparent repeated digs. In one interview he branded 1D’s music “generic as f**k”. There’s a difference between making a break from the past and dismissing it completely, and it’s a line Zayn perhaps hasn’t always managed to walk.

“Hmm,” agrees Louis, cautiously. “Other than maybe Niall, there is no one who is prouder of the band and the songs we created than me. But while what I did with One Direction is relevant, it doesn’t define who I am and I don’t struggle to make that dissociation.”

Does he think some of what Zayn has said has been disrespectful?

“Yeah, I do. But I can understand it. We have a lot of situations where we’re sat in interviews and if you’re in a certain mood you might run your mouth. The older you get the more you can tell if these things actually carry any malice or if they’re just a prod in the back. That’s life, innit? Sometimes people chat s**t and that’s the reality.”

He’s not ruling out resolving their differences in the future, but there’s no olive branch on the horizon.

“No, but I’ve not actively tried. We’ve all got a lot on our plates and there might be a day where I wake up and think: ‘OK, I want to right that wrong’, but not yet.”

After being in his company for a while, it’s not hard to see why Louis was 1D’s driving force backstage. He’s thoughtful, articulate, open and self-aware, but there’s a steeliness to him and the requisite pop-star swagger, which doesn’t seem to spill over into arrogance.

He’s based in LA these days, to stay close to Freddie, but “Donny” will always be home. He says comparing the two places is “literally chalk and cheese” and it’s taken him time to “come round” to living in the States.

“It’s taken a while to get used to spending so much time there. I feel like I’m very British at heart.”

And that is reflected in his music, which is heavily influenced by the Arctic Monkeys, The Smiths and Oasis. In fact, the title track and latest single Walls sounds so similar to Oasis B-side and fans’ favourite Acquiesce that Louis’ manager flagged it as a potential issue.

“These kinds of things happen. There are only so many melodies you can write and if you listen to a band all the time like I do with Oasis…”

Anyway, says Louis. He had to make a choice.

“I was ready to risk it, but everyone said we should get in touch with Noel [Gallagher] so we did. Often the industry, and especially Noel’s world, can be a bit snobby and say: ‘F**k you you’re not using this song’. But he was really cool about it, signed it off no problem and although I’m sure he’s not happy about this, I f**king am, I’ve got a writing credit from Noel Gallagher on my album. That is some sick s**t so I’m buzzing.”

Is he nervous about going it alone? “I think I’ve got a good record so I’m confident. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t little bit nervous – there’s three and half years work gone into it so there’s a level of anticipation.”

The most overwhelming emotion though, is relief.

“Because it’s taken such a long time. I’m excited to go on to the next phase of my career.”

Louis Tomlinson’s new album Walls is out now.

[mazzellosjoe]

Just A Bad Day - Joe Mazzello

Something was wrong. As soon as he stepped foot into the trailer, he could feel it. It was quiet; to anyone else the trailer was buzzing with noise, but to Joe it was quiet. The absence of her laughter made the atmosphere seem silent.

“Is anyone in there?” Gwilym joked, waving his hand in front of Joe’s face to snap him out of his thoughts. “Has that perm stopped the oxygen getting to your brain?”

Normally, Joe would’ve found himself thinking of a wittier comeback. But a laugh and a retort of, “we can’t all be blessed with the gift of looking good in a wig, Gwil,” sufficed. As he passed the row of makeup chairs, one at the end stayed empty. One he wanted to be sat in the most. Thinking of a casual way to bring up the situation, his fingers knitted together as he stood amidst the commotion of makeup artists, extras and actors.

He stared at the vanity that was usually always pristine, despite the mess she made whilst working with someone. Joe thinks he witnesses beauty coming from chaos by watching her work, seeing the disarray in front of her grow as she got lost in creating the look of John Deacon; and whoever else she had been assigned to that day. His favourite part was seeing the furrow of her brow whilst looking for the brow pencil she always casts off to the side, a grin growing on his face as he almost always finds it before her, making sure to tease her about it before handing it over.

But she always made sure to tidy her station after she was finished; each product used going back to it’s ordered place. Foundation bottles were lined up in shade order, face and eye brushes in separate pots and various palettes stacked neatly inside the drawers to her left. Except today, the chaos was left untouched. Like she’d up and left the moment she’d finished. And it left a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that he couldn’t quite explain.

“Joe!”

The sounds of Ben, Gwilym, Rami and Lucy reached his ears, causing the tips of them to grow red as he started at the noise, too consumed with his thoughts for a second time to concentrate.

“Come back to earth have you, mate?” Ben joked, moving to ruffle a hand through Joe’s hair.

“I’ll come back to wherever you are, Ben.”

“You’re with me for today, Joe.” The voice belonged to Jaclyn, another makeup artist who called from a few chairs down. The rest of the cast had begun to settle in their respective places, ready to be transformed into their characters. The day had been scheduled in for reshoots of Live Aid, although more focus was on the crowd, explaining why the trailer seemed to be teeming with extras.

“No Y/N today?” He questioned, getting comfortable in the seat as a cape covered him and was tied behind his neck.

He tried to sound unbothered. To only seem curious, like it was only something to make conversation. But it came out as a worry. And he knew Jaclyn noticed it.

“She’s...she’s on an early lunch.” Jaclyn answered, sounding as believable as Joe did trying to seem casual earlier.

“It’s 10:03 in the morning.”

“Then breakfast?”

“Is everything okay with her?” The vagueness of Jaclyn’s answers only increased Joe’s worries. Y/N was always here, and the abrupt leave he had deduced from the state of her vanity screamed to him that something was wrong.

Jaclyn sighed. She knew the prying questions would come as soon as she told Y/N she’d cover Joe whilst she took a break to calm down.

“We’ve been here since 4:30am making up extras. Helen came in not too long ago making sure everything was in order, but she wasn’t happy with everything. Y/N was in the firing line and took the worst of it, that’s why she’s out on a break.”

Joe felt his heart clench as he listened to the words. The thought of Y/N being upset made him want to cry, and a pinching thought in the back of his mind told him once he made sure she was okay he had to address his feelings. To label them as friendly was becoming more and more foolish and he knew it.

“When’s she due back?” Joe questioned, silently hoping it would be sooner rather than later so he could put his entire focus on filming. He was capable of forgetting reality when he acts, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to shake the thought of her from the back of his mind.

“Maybe half an hour? I told her not to worry how long it takes. She’s really stressed, Joe. Looks exhausted.”

Luck didn’t seem to be on Joe’s side.

As soon as he stepped foot out of the makeup chair he was whisked to set, bass slung over his shoulders and the persona of John Deacon washing over him. He’d have preferred to have time to see you, but it wasn’t warranted until after the re-shoots had finished and he was heading for his own lunch.

Usually he’d stop by the canteen, but his mission to make you happy made him visit the onset Starbucks. Two grilled cheese sandwiches, a blueberry muffin and two coffees later, he found himself standing outside the makeup trailer.

The buzz from earlier had simmered, almost everyone having their lunch gathered away from their workplaces. Clutching the bag of lunch at his side, Joe pushed open the door to find Jaclyn heading out, and exactly who he was looking for staying behind.

You groaned as you rose from squatting next to your vanity, making amends of the mess you’d created. Loading your concealers back into their home, you heard a familiar creek of the door opening.

“I’m gonna go get lunch Y/N, sure you aren’t coming?” Jaclyn offered for what seemed like the thirtieth time, but you knew it was from a good place.

“I’m sure, Jac. Thanks, though.” You knelt back down to your makeup drawers to begin re-organising your palettes, the final job before everything seemed to be back in order.

“I’ll see you later, Joe.” You heard Jaclyn bid him goodbye, turning to find a rather Deaky looking Joe lingering at the door.

“I brought lunch.” He smiled softly, holding up the Starbucks bag and coffee.

For the first time today you let a smile fall across your lips. It didn’t quite reach your eyes. Joe noticed.

“We can go eat in my trailer, if you want? Just to get out of here for a while. I know you’ve had a long day already.”

“Thank you, Joe.” You spoke tentatively, emotion flooding your voice and alerting him to the fact you were in a fragile state.

The walk to his trailer was in silence. You entered in silence, sat down on his couch in silence and tucked into the grilled cheese’s in silence. It lasted for a little while longer, until he spoke up.

“I want to make sure you’re okay, you know.” He mumbled between bites, eyes flitting to you then back to his sandwich every once in a while.

“I’m okay.” You replied, voice strained as you tried to hide the lump in your throat.

He only held your gaze. A hand reaching out to hold yours, a reassuring squeeze. He didn’t believe you, but that was okay. You didn’t believe yourself either.

You lowered your eyes to your hands once you felt the tears forming. A look back up to Joe and the floodgates opened, salty tracks forming down your cheeks.

“Oh sweetheart...” Joe murmured, shuffling closer to you and swinging an arm over your shoulder. He pulled you into him, tucking your head into his neck whilst using his other hand to trace soft patterns up and down your spine. “Talk to me, Y/N. What’s wrong?”

“I tried so hard.” You cried, letting out all the stress that had been built up inside of you over the past few hours. “She said it was all wrong. That it was a waste of time and it all had to be done again. I’m not good enough.” You hiccuped through your sobs, crying harder by speaking the thoughts that had been swimming around your head. “And I feel so tired, and when she yelled at me it was just too much and I’m so stressed that everything has to be perfect and I don’t know if I can do it.” There was nothing that could stop words tumbling from your lips, coming out so manically that Joe knew it was just from the pressures of the day.

“It’s okay. You’re okay, I’ve got you. Just let it out.” Joe rocked you both back and forth, tightening his arms around your shaking body. He waited before he spoke to you properly, letting you cry it out for a while.

Your cries died down, turning into sniffles as you clung to Joe’s body, taking deep breaths to calm yourself and inhaling his scent willingly.

“You are good enough.” He whispered to you, letting a kiss graze the top of your ear. “Please don’t think that you aren’t. I learn from you everyday, just by watching you. Don’t doubt your ability, Y/N. Not because of one bad day. Maybe Helen’s just having a rough day, that’s why she took it out on you. And now you are too. But it won’t last forever. I promise.”

“Just a really bad day.” You echoed lowly, rubbing your eyes to remove the fallen tears.

“That’s all it is. And everyone’s looking for an early finish tonight, so you can get some sleep. And tomorrow, you’ll have forgotten it all. And even if you haven’t, I’ll be around to make sure you do.”

“Thank you.” You whispered, leaning up to plant a firm kiss on his cheek. A blush flared on both of your cheeks, but neither of you brought it up.

“You don’t have to thank me.” He shook his head softly, but you returned the gesture in defence.

“I do,” You spoke tenderly, lifting your arm to wrap around the back of his neck, “you made my bad day a little better.”

Joe’s heart warmed. In the moment he didn’t think he’d ever been so inamoured with anyone in his entire life. Your sweet words sent a warmth through his whole body, making him want to keep you in his arms forever.

“That’s me, the knight with the shining perm.” He joked, loving the sound of the giggle that slipped from your lips. He found himself looking at them for a little too long again. But this time you were too.

“Y/N?” He breathed, cupping your jaw with his hand. You raised your eyes to his, keeping your arms around his neck.

“Yeah?”

“I wanna make all your bad days better.”

[bipolarneon]

get to know neon

thanks to @phoenix-rising-and-falling for giving me the template.

General

Type 1 or type 2? I don’t know. Those who diagnosed me didn’t tell me, so. I don’t really care, anyway, as long as we know what’s going on in my brain.

Self-dx or professional dx? Professionally. I wanted this. I wanted a professional diagnosis for what was going on with me. And after a month in a psych ward I got it. The reasons are multiple and stem from feelings of powerlessness, to fear of the unknown, to exceptionality and omnipotence. A lot to unpack here, huh?

Are you currently hypo/manic, depressed, mixed, stable, or not sure? Depressed (slowly coming out of a mixed episode state.)

Do you have any other mental illnesses/disorders? Borderline Personality Disorder (self-diagnosed.) The actual diagnosis says Personality Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, in the future months tests will be run on me to determine which disorder it actually is but I personally suspect BPD.

When did you first start having symptoms? I didn’t know they were symptoms back in the day. I recently had suicidal tendencies and bad self-harming and risky impulsive behaviour in various areas of life, plus I was delusional on a specific situation/individual, so I ended up hospitalized for my own safety. In the hospital, I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder because I told them about those times I was staying up till 5am reading and writing articles, those full months I could go on with 2 hours of sleeping maximum, those situations where I was feeling incredibly elated and omnipotent in saving the world, those times I tried to run away from home without documents and came home the same evening to go to martial art training, those times I was speaking so fast anyone could understand me or pacing everywhere because I couldn’t stay still. Don’t know. I told them a bunch of stuff and they did their job. Looking back, the bipolar disorder diagnosis fits.

When did you realize/learn that you have bipolar? Um, a few weeks ago. I was strangely relieved.

Have you ever received a misdiagnosis? No.

How self-aware are you on a scale of 1-10? I thought I was the most self-aware person on the Planet, turns out it may not be exactly the case ‘cause in the past I didn’t recognized any symptom and right now I don’t know, I’m still only depressed, have yet to change state. Still, I think I’m pretty aware on my mental schemes and processes overall.

How many people know about your bipolar disorder? My medical team, my family, the only one friend I have, you guys on Tumblr.

Are any of your family members bipolar? No.

Name three fictional characters you relate to and/or headcanon as bipolar. First and foremost, I relate to Rue Bennet who is actually bipolar, so. Then, since he is my totem character and the very reason of my existence, I headcanon Anakin Skywalker as bipolar, beside the many disorders I already headcanon him to have.

Hypo/mania

When hypo/manic, do you get euphoric, dysphoric, angry, creative, social, or several of the above? I think several of the above but I’m not sure, I don’t remember entirely my hypomanic states since they happened years ago. Also, I think it was always hypomania, I never reached full mania yet.

What has been your longest hypo/manic episode? I can’t exactly count since it happened years ago and I wasn’t aware of being bipolar at the time, but I think it’s been years with bouts of depression and some shorter fits of stronger hypomania.

Have you ever had a psychotic episode? What symptoms did it include? Yes, I did. I was hospitalized after a mixed episode with psychotic features. I had delusions regarding one particular person, but I’m stopping here, this is too much.

What kind of impulsive decisions have you made? Run away from home without documents or money, a lot of stuff involving homemade activism, climbed rocks that should not have been climbed, had sex with many guys randomly, drank a lot in order to feel bad and miserable, etc.

What’s the most money you’ve spent in a single day while hypo/manic? This is gonna sound weird but it never happened to me. I never went on a spending spree. Mostly because I have no money with me when I go out. It happened with food, though. That maybe I had already eaten but I took an entire new dish without knowing or understanding why I did it.

What’s the longest you’ve gone without sleep? I genuinely don’t remember. Surely I was able to go on for looong time (like entire years) sleeping only 2-3 hours per night.

Are you a creative type? Have you ever made a poem/song/other artwork about being bipolar? NOT YET. BUT I WILL. (I’ve made those stupid drawings I posted on the blog though.)

Depression

When depressed, do you get suicidal, bored, anxious, guilty, or several of the above? I’d say all of the above, but mostly suicidal, guilty and anxious.

What has been your longest depressive episode? Three years, I think.

How do you cope with depression? I don’t. I don’t even want to. I want to feel bad, I want to feel all the pain in the world, so go figure (this doesn’t mean I’m anti-recovery, just that my mental illness wants me to be.)

Are you a sleep-all-day depressive or an insomniac depressive? Do you overeat or lose your appetite? Insomniac. And my appetite hasn’t changed much.

When is the last time you cried or had a breakdown? Like- ten seconds ago? I’m very emotional nowadays.

Have you ever self-harmed? Yes. I cut myself, burnt myself, scratched myself, stopped taking meds…

Have you had problems with substance abuse? Alcohol and marijuana have been a thing and regular cigarettes too.

Have you ever attended AA/NA/etc? No.

Have you ever attempted suicide? No. I have a duty in this world and as long as that duty lives on, I live on. But I have dreamt of dying so much it feels reality by now.

Have you ever written a suicide note? Not quite. It was the note I left when I ran away from home. I wasn’t a suicide letter but somehow it sounded like one.

Other symptoms and Treatment

Do you ever dissociate? It happened. It’s not so frequent but it happened. Not exactly sure I do it in the most severe way possible but still, I do.

Do you ever have hallucinations? If so, what are they? No. I had this sort of slight auditory hallucination where I was hearing my own voice telling me bad things over and over, but it wasn’t a full-blown hallucination.

Do you see a therapist? Do you feel like it’s helping? I’m seeing a therapist and yes, it’s helping. I’ve been seeing them since I was 15, and as I already wrote somewhere, without them I would be probably dead or in a cult.

Are you on any medications? Do you feel like they’re helping? Yes, I am. I don’t know if they’re helping or not, but generally think they don’t. They merely keep you slowed down enough to stop your scariest impulses.

Have you ever been hospitalized? Yes, I’ve been hospitalized for one month. It’s been nightmare to me, it felt like a prison. But I made through this and now I feel it helped me, somehow. Gave me more skills in my fight against mental illness.

Have you ever attended group therapy? No.

Have any of your symptoms gotten worse over the years? I didn’t have a diagnosis a year ago but sure as hell I was in a better shape than I am now, so we definitely can say I got worse over the years.

Have any of your symptoms gotten better over the years? No, that didn’t happen but in the end I’ve just been diagnosed, it’s a bit early to say.

Do you have a favorite coping method? I don’t have a favourite coping method because I don’t cope, I dive in the pain, I dive in the suffering and in the bleakness. I dive right in and hope to drown.

If you could choose to be neurotypical, would you? This is a tricky one. I’m expected to answer ‘yes,’ but I think I’ll answer ‘no.’ Who would I be without my mental illness? Without my problematicity? Without my pain? No one. So, no. I’d rather struggle the rest of my life but cling to the broken identity I have than be neurotypical but essentially no one (reminder that this works for me and my flawed brain, I’m not saying neurotypical people are shit.)

[whatamessz]

Fic “Take my Head”

Welllllll back in october @dreaming-powder and I talked about kink- and goretober and I…erm… wasted an opportunity started this thing which was sitting in my drafts since then, mocking me. Lately I’m extremely frustrated with my writing and it totally shows, but I had to finally get this out or it would haunt me. Sorry I kinda trashed your prompt ;_;

Summary: 10 Million years late to the Garage Palace Party, PWP loosely based on the visualizer.

Cleaned up and edited version on AO3.

3563 words | rating: explicit | 2Doc | 2D’s POV | TW: mentions  of   contagious disease, graphic content, injuries, blood, zombies | beware extremely flat critisism of governmental power structures and oral sex

2D sat on the mattress, perched up against the wall, his head put back against his neck. The blood from his nose finally must have stopped flowing, but the vague luminescence of the glow-in-the-dark-stars they had adhered to the ceiling in an attempt to make the storage unit more cozy was mesmerizing enough to keep staring.

The garage – located somewhere in the suburbs in a former small town in Essex, of all places – was their current hide out. It had been scarcely furnished already, but almost everything they’d brought in was tossed over or broken now. 2D couldn’t care in this moment. His head and his ribs hurt and he could taste his own blood in the back of his throat. His shirt and hands were stained red too. No handkerchiefs in the post apocalypse.

He mulled over his momentary situation. They lived in a storage unit because these days, safe living space was a resource everyone craved. That’s why the improvised military government had confiscated every inhabitable home with the ultimate plan to clear and declare the houses as secure for redistribution to the surviving population of the country. Up until now, this didn’t really happen. However, this and several other measures taken were ultimately just a leverage on the people to consolidate their position and suppress rioting. At least, that was how Russel had explained it to them. 2D had found that fairly persuasive since, if you wanted a home or just shelter, food rations, medical care, clean water and relative safety, you were told to go to The Refuges first.

The Refuges, where it could be made sure you wouldn’t carry or infect yourself with the O-virus and cause a new outbreak again. The Refuges where you could be surveilled and where the disease, whatever that meant, was annihilated and were you could wait for the promised piece of safety and normality you so hoped for.

The Refuges were a lie. The Refuges were horrible. The Refuges were a place where you got your most basic needs fulfilled, as long as you played along the rules the government set and accepted everything they provided to you in their grace. The Refuges were a place, where people in need, in fear and in pain lived together on smallest spaces, perishing on the wait for things to come. The Refuges were a pool to recruit workers to rebuild this glorious nation on nothing but promises of a shining future. The Refuges were a tool and a field of experimentation to see in what infinitesimal bits you could split a society and still rule them in an economic effective way. The Refuges were a place where, once you’d arrived out of free will or pure desperation, you were meant to stay and wait for your assigned purpose.

That was why they’d left. Secretly and in hurry from the great Royal Refuge of South London. In 2D’s opinion it was ridiculous to even call a camp like that. Nobody had heard from a queen or a king in years.

He didn’t like to think back on their time there or the night they had fled. It usually brought back vivid nightmares and he curled in a little just from the thought. However, they weren’t the only people who had managed to leave. There were also still many who never went to a Refuge in the first place.

They all more or less tried flying under the radar through wildly dispersing over the country side where people tried their luck in the less crowded areas. From time to time, there were raids rumored to be initiated from the government, but it was impossible to keep all of the scattered population in check, so they had decided the unruly-people-problem would likely regulate itself if they didn’t guarantee protection from remaining zombies, mobs and catastrophes like the “accidental” wild fires in summer. The government had made it clear, that everything outside the camps and greater cities was lawless land.

Partially, they had been right. The waves of roaming zombies admittedly had declined in the last two years, but with hierarchy temporarily so disassembled, people started testing.

So far, two main forms of social coexistence had become especially apparent: community building and gang building. The communities were extremely guarded and with the increasing pressure from the government, their biggest problem was their relative inflexibility. The bad thing with the gangs was, they weren’t usually friendly. Like everyone, they fought for survival and they took what they could find to ensure that. Sometimes – often – that meant stealing from other people. Like them.

Against all odds, Noodle, Russel, Murdoc and 2D had somehow managed to survive the zombie outbreak together, but they weren’t part of a community, nor of a gang. Or maybe they were their own gang minus the robbing people part. Mostly he was fine with this, but in moments like this the flaws of this state of being became apparent to 2D.

He flinched when he heard steps approaching outside that interrupted his train of thoughts. For a moment, he was afraid the group of rowdies would return, but it was only one pair of feet this time. He could see the familiar boots emerge under the half open roller blind before it was pulled up a bit more and Murdoc strode in. His left side was widely covered in blood, the scythe casually draped over his shoulder and he was smiling widely like a manic death god.

“Daddy’s home, children,” he announced himself enthusiastically and with the greyish light that came in from behind he looked like the legend he was known as in these suburbs and 2D briefly wondered if the blokes would have attacked Gorillaz makeshift headquarters if they would have known it was Murdoc’s too.

Well… who was he trying to convince? They probably would have anyway.

“Hey,” 2D greeted him and his voice sounded thick and nasal.

Murdoc’s atomic smile faltered visibly when he took in the state of the garage unit and finally the state of 2D. He growled exasperated.

“Bunch’a gangsters stopped by to check if we got anything interesting to loot.”

“Those fucking thugs that recently roam around in our territory?”

Their territory? Ok, maybe they really were a gang now and he didn’t notice.

2D just shrugged, taking in Murdoc’s appearance. His jeans and dirty white shirt were lavishly adorned with reddish brown splashes, so the evidence he had just offed a few flesh eaters was right there, but the scythe’s blade had already been polished back to its shiny menace. 2D knew, theoretically, Murdoc had just been checking and clearing on their supplies stash, but when the man came back looking every inch the anti-hero of one of those zombie films 2D had so loved before all this, he couldn’t help but feel a little warm and excited tuck deep in his belly. Murdoc had never looked healthier or more alive since most people around him were (un)dead. The scythe was a statement too, of course. When the outbreak came, it was just a quick defense tool he had grabbed from their requisites, but over time Murdoc had proven to be surprisingly skilled with it and because it fitted his shitty goth aesthetic like nothing else, he ultimately chose the scythe as his signature weapon.

2D could honestly understand how it made an impression on people when Murdoc came out of nowhere, slicing his way through rotting bodies like a hot wire through cheese, scattering organs everywhere, laughing like a lunatic and disappearing after his “work” was done. It sure made an impression on 2D.

“Took our torchlights. And the pillow,” 2D reported contritely. “But they left the sleeping bags at least.”

Murdoc send a string of curses while he was walking through the mess. He kicked aside broken glass on his way over and sat back up a shelf they had made from old apple crates.

“I knew it was a good idea to keep our important supplies hidden elsewhere,” he mumbled.

He leaned the scythe to the wall and took off the bag he had carried. He shad his heavy leather jacket too before he plopped down on the mattress next to 2D with a sigh.

Curious, 2D examined Murdoc from the closer range. He could see now how Murdoc got spatters of dried blood on his face and in his hair as well.

“You’ve got blood everywhere,” 2D stated his observation, the mild concern obvious in his voice.

“Could say the same about you. ’S not mine though,” Murdoc answered with a lopsided grin on his withering face. His tongue darted out of his mouth to lick some of it from his upper lip cockily. 2D shivered. The only good thing they had brought back from the Refuges were the vaccinations against the O-Virus.

“Good,” 2D just offered exhaling, gaze drifting back up to the glowing plastic stars. Murdoc then gently grabbed his chin to indulge in his own studies on 2D’s injuries.

“Too bad we lost the torches. The light’s crap in here. No deeper cuts? Nothing’s broken? Just a busted nose and a split lip?”

2D watched him intently. He liked it when Murdoc cared for him. A little too much maybe.

“Fuck, you look so hot like this, you know that,” he muttered out. In the same breath of air, he silently cursed his dumb brain.

Murdoc watched him apprehensively for just a heartbeat longer.  Then he smirked.

“Yes,” he said. “Plus, slashing zombies makes me incredible horny.”

2D only had time to blink before he felt Murdoc’s lips on his own, noses crushing together and it hurt, but all of a sudden everything he wanted was more of this to take him out of his miserable boredom. The cut on his lip burned with sensation that made his heart pick up its pace. He could taste the coppery savor again, but this time so intensely it made his stomach churn.  The imagination of the blood on their lips mixing buzzed through his head and he sighed softly into the kiss. The knowledge that this was zombie blood made him feel ill as much as it turned him on in a weird way. One should think that the actual outbreak of the apocalypse would have cured him of his weird kinks, but after they had settled in what could be considered a relatively quiet life under these circumstances and the zombies and their spreading disease weren’t the biggest thread anymore, he had learned that this wasn’t the case. Quite the opposite.

Murdoc chuckled lowly in response to his sigh and retreated for a second to check on him.

“We need to clean you up later” he suggested. 2D put a hand up Murdoc’s neck, gently brushing the thumb over the bassist’s face and leaving a bloody smear on his hollow, stubbly cheek in the process. They would have to beg Noodle for her gas cooker to heat some water when she was back.  

Murdoc put his hands around 2D’s waist and pulled him closer, 2D straddling his legs, before he dove in again and licked teasingly slow over the cut on his lip. That elicited a sharp hiss from the former singer and Murdoc used the opportunity to pry his mouth open with his tongue a little further.

2D felt dull pain pulsating through his nose when he needed to take deeper breaths now, but he managed to work around this issue and let Murdoc explore his mouth. He could feel his tongue rub and suck along the tender gum where his front teeth used to be a lifetime ago. His eyes fell shut and he let out an appreciative moan now.

Spurred by this, Murdoc let a cool hand wander under 2D’s stripy shirt and up his sore ribcage, where a heavy boot had kicked him not quite one hour ago before the five gang members had buggered off again. 2D flinched slightly at the gentle contact and opened his eyes. Murdoc didn’t immediately stop kissing him, but his expression was knitted in disapproval when he glanced up questioningly.

2D shook his head slightly. “’S nothin’, just be careful,” he whispered, not wanting to stop this. He gave Murdoc’s thigh a reassuring squeeze. For a brief second, he thought about the fact that the roller blind still was half up, but their mattress was tucked away enough in a corner of the unit and hidden behind a now depleted shelf. He just had to remember to keep quiet. He also hoped that Noodle and Russel wouldn’t return from their tour or that other unannounced guests wouldn’t like to pay a visit again right now.

“Painkillers may be rare, but daddy’s got something else for your ouchies,” Murdoc purred into his ear, which caused 2D to back off a bit with a snicker.

“Woah don’t you think I didn’t notice how you tried to establish that daddy shit again in the first place,” he said defiantly. “Daddy kink is not going to happen in this garage, you old letch.”

Murdoc looked at him, eyes torn wide open in mock offence. “So I am the letch now, am I? Then remind me again who initiated this, huh? Besides, you still look like you ate out Bloody Mary, so don’t give me shit on my humble peculiarities.”

2D shot him a sour look. Of course, he couldn’t really see Murdoc’s eyebrows under the heavy fringe, but he still could guess the suggestive wiggle he offered in return.

“Didn’t you just confirm right in front of me that you get a hard-on from slaying zombies?”

Murdoc shrugged. “You get a hard-on from watching me slaying zombies, so I think that’s a tie. What brings me back to the point at which we just stopped,” Murdoc countered and let him slip from his thighs to lean back against the wall again.

Murdoc fixed him there with a cunning gaze, then kneeled in front of him and slowly slid the pair of braces down from his wife beater shirt. 2D felt himself swallow down a heavy lump in his throat. Murdoc pushed his thighs apart and leaned down into him again for a deep and longing kiss. The fuck he looked like he ate out Bloody Mary, he thought while his pounding nose reminded him that Murdoc was probably right, but he had an appetite for something entirely else now. He started fondling the front of Murdoc’s jeans, but his fingers were batted away gently. Instead, he felt how Murdoc pulled up his bloodstained shirt a bit and fiddled with his fly. Relatively clueless on what exactly he was trying to attempt, 2D still felt how he and his dick grew more and more impatient. A violent shiver ran through his body when Murdoc’s tongue and lips left his mouth and wandered down his jaw and neck to suck little bites here and there. His fingers were wandering up 2D’s good side now and starting to tease his nipple with soft brushes. When Murdoc finally managed to undo the zipper and lost no time shoving his hand down 2D’s underpants, he already whimpered soft little chirps into the twilight of their storage unit.

Murdoc finally stopped the work on his neck and looked up at him, wearing an expression that made 2D a little nervous. He slid his thumps under the waistband of 2D’s pants and wiggled them down with some effort. 2D’s erection sprung free and Murdoc watched it admiringly for a short moment before he lowered himself onto his belly and dug his nose into 2D’s blue trail to happiness, inhaling the scent that, given their current circumstances, was probably a bit stronger than he’d have liked. Murdoc didn’t seem to care one bit though. 2D put his head back against the wall and looked pleadingly up to the weak light of the plastic stars.

“Shit, I was thinking about you the whole way back. How you’d just wait for me, bored out of you mind curtesy to your sprained ankle. Nothing to do but just wait for me and my ready ass. Letting daddy bring home some nice presents,” Murdoc mused and adorned every few words with a kiss to his belly and hipbones.

2D rolled his eyes and huffed. “Yeah I bet you wish, perv. You just make this shit up on the spot.” He had wanted his answer to sound keen, but it might have come out a little needier than he liked. He planned on further commenting Murdoc’s half-assed attempt of dirty talking him, but when he opened his mouth, all that came out was a clipped moan because the former bassist silenced him effectively by taking the tip of his cock into his mouth and giving it a hard lick. A second lick made 2D buck, so Murdoc dug his hands into his hips to press them down and take more of his dick into his mouth.

2D’s breath hitched and he put his hands on Murdoc’s shoulders, guiding him further down. Murdoc let out an appreciative grunt and looked up to him.

They knew each other long enough now that 2D could tell how Murdoc was suppressing the urge to stop and make a sassy comment, so he planted a hand into that thick hair and pressed him down a little further.

“Don’t you dare stopping now, Mister Niccals, better hurry up a little,” he commanded breathily and could see the conflict flaring up in Murdoc’s eyes for a brief moment.

Luckily, this time the urge for retaliation expressed itself in the form of deep swallowing, so he closed his eyes with a gasp and put his head back against the wall.

Murdoc’s head bopped back up again and 2D could feel his tongue licking the downside of his dick before it swirled around his head so slowly and with just the right amount of pressure to make him squirm so much Murdoc had to clutch his hips again.

2D tried to hold back his moans through clenched teeth as Murdoc continued to go up and down his length again.

Lust filled the crisp air of the garage and his breathing got more erratic with every minute this continued. He felt himself getting closer soon despite the relatively easygoing tempo his lover stroke.

When another moan slipped from his throat, he bit his lip in frustration, forgetting about the injury. He hissed sharply and could taste freshly dawn blood.

“I think I’m close,” 2D warned, voice gradually higher, but all Murdoc did was casting him an unimpressed look through his fringe and carrying on in his determined task. His toes curled in his sneakers and he lost Murdoc’s name and a few sighs along the process.

Suddenly, Murdoc hollowed his cheeks when he lifted his head up once again, put his tongue to the tip of his head and let it glide firmly over his leaking slit.

“Ah- Da-,” 2D could clutch the hand over his mouth just in time before the word slipped over his lips. Conveniently, it also swallowed the obscenely loud groan that wanted to escape his throat when he finally came and to his own shame, he couldn’t entirely exclude the possibility that his orgasm came so quickly because of how he surprised himself in this embarrassing way.

When Murdoc came back up at him, rubbing his mouth clean with the back of his hand, he positively beamed.

“Wipe that stupid grin right off your face, I was caught up in the moment,” 2D pouted, still audibly out of breath.

Naturally, Murdoc didn’t wipe his grin off, but started an obnoxious chuckle when he was done swallowing. “Oh no, ‘D, forget it. I heard that and it will be etched into my memory until the day you dig my grave.”

2D, to high on post-orgasmic dopamine to come up with a swift response, shoved his face away playfully.

“Still not establishing a Daddy kink,” he stated decidedly with a glare.

“You’ll get used to it.” Murdoc’s grin still seemed inextinguishable.

2D considered simply ignoring him while he was about to tuck himself back into his trousers, but then he turned his head around to face Murdoc again before he zipped up.

He crawled closer to Murdoc, preying grin suddenly plastered on his own face. “Or perhaps,” he started and came to a halt so close in front of Murdoc’s lips that he could feel their breaths mixing, foreheads almost pressed together. Murdoc’s face twisted up in expectation. That’s when 2D starts gradually pressing Murdoc down on the mattress with on hand to his chest, faces still close. “Or perhaps we switch up the expectation about who calls who a ‘daddy’,” 2D cooed and he could feel Murdoc swallow when he hit the mattress.

2D shifted to lick the zombie blood from his cheek and heard a low approving growl from beneath him. Murdoc’s ribcage touched his when he took a deep breath.

“Well, last time I counted we still had eight condoms left. So maybe make a use of them before we have to go on a new raid,” Murdoc suggested with a smirk.

“Yes. And maybe we should close the blind soon,” he said before he engaged him in a hungry kiss that made his battered lip and ribs hurt so sweetly.

[sarcastic-anxious]

ALL THE ASKS

1. have you ever been in love?

not that i know, i thought that i had a crush once but then it turned out i just wanted to be good friends lol ( my family is very touchy and i just sometimes jus want to hug my friends)

2. what are your favourite colours and why?

Blood red! Slytherin green and silver!

Blood red because its the colour of passion and ofc blood

Slytherin green because it gives off a mysterious and magical vibe

Silver because it is a regal colour and makes everything look younger and magical

3. who was the last person you held hands with?

honestly, i don't know anymore

4. what is your zodiac sign?

aries!

5. how many times have you read your favourite book?

3 or 4 times i guess?

6. what are your favourite films?

pixels! it cheers me up

The Three Musketeers (1993) its something thats always fun to watch

7. what kind of weather do you like?

For me the perfect weather is when a thunderstorm is raging on on a hot summer day, I will just sit in my window with the window open and just relax to the sound of thunder and the beautiful lightning while getting cooled down by the rain

8. do you prefer sunrises or sunsets?

I prefer sunrises because they mark the beginning of a new day

9. what kind of weather represents who you are as a person?

the kind of weather when a thunderstorm is closeby and you don't know if its gonna come closer or its gonna clear up

10. what’s your favourite animal?

My favourite animal has shifted between a lot of animals but now it’s a snake!

11. what is your favourite song right now?

the other side of paradise by glass animals

or sex metal barbie by in this moment

12. what is your favourite song of all time?

city by Hollywood undead

or bullet i cant choose

13. do you like sunny days or rainy days better?

rainy days for the win

14. have you ever been heartbroken?

yeh,,,,,,

15. what does the perfect kiss feel like?

idk never kissed and dont want to eiter

16. what is your favourite poem?

“I was born with glass bones and paper skin. Every morning I break my legs, and every afternoon I break my arms. At night, I lie awake in agony until my heart attacks put me to sleep.”

Life Is An Illusion

© Trisha

Published: July 2015

Surrounded by people yet all alone

Trapped within this solitary zone

A world where chaos and hate overtake

Every bit of happiness that may try to escape

Laughter and smiles never seem to last

Because I am haunted by memories of my past

Running the distance with nowhere to go

These are the days of my life, a Broadway show

Screaming for help, does anyone hear

The demons of death are coming so near

Echoes in my head tormenting me all day long

Breaking the woman who was once very strong

What does serenity mean anyway

Is it the swag in my step or just the words I say

Deep rooted evil no time for a soul mate

Wondering why joy is always a day late

Suicide is the easy answer many times I've tried

Happiness seems to be the tears I have cried

Unable to distinguish what's real from what's fiction

Hope is an illusion, an optimist's prediction

What will it take to get me right

A visit from the devil on a lonely night

Angels prepare to battle and take a stand

To remind me of their holy land

When I want to give up, they push for me to be strong

In my head I hear their harmonious song

A tranquil state I now find myself

Dealing with the hand in which I was dealt

Good vs evil, what does it really mean

Am I dirty when I appear to be clean

Life is an illusion a constant mind trick on me

Who knows what my fate will be

Heaven and hell are both fair game

Will I succumb to peace or fall down in shame

Surrounded by people yet all alone

Trapped within this solitary zone

Source:

https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/life-is-an-illusion

17. who are you most inspired by?

honestly just by the world

18. are you spiritual?

im in the church of satan

19. what is your favourite plant?

My favourite plant is a willow three, elegant , magical and haunted at the same time

20. what is your favourite feeling?

just fine ( id say my manic hours are the most fun but the depression that follows those isnt worth it)

21. what is your favourite word?

eikel (acorn, asshole, the tip of the penis 

22. are you an artist?

yes!

23. what is your favourite flower?

Gladioli

24. are you happy?

ehh im living i guess

25. what are you thinking about right now?

some remus angst that ill probably never write 

26. what emotion do you feel most often?

dull

27. what is your favourite season?

My favourite season is autumn/fall because the weather is finally cooling down and the threes are beautiful / also halloween

28. are you in a relationship?

nope

29. are you an introvert or extrovert?

introvert

30. do you prefer the moon or the stars?

MOON

31. what is your favourite scent?

i dont really have one , just my plushies they smell good 

32. where do you feel most at home?

my room honestly i have lived in som many houses just give me a room with some of my stuff in it and il feel more at home than just sitting in my livingroom with my dad

33. what scares you the most?

honestly myself and life

34. do you believe in soulmates?

nah not really

35. what is your favourite thing about yourself?

my ability to see from a different angle that other people mostly overlook

36. what is the nicest compliment you’ve received?

you’ve grown

37. who is your favourite music artist?

misso

38. what was your first kiss like?

forced wrong and aweful

39. are you a sensitive person?

yeh sometimes

40. when was the last time you cried?

yesterday

41. do you believe that love can last forever?

yeh, but who knows if you found the right one to love?

42. what do you think happens to us when we die?

you disappear but stay behind in the hearts of people that you love

43. have you ever broken someone’s heart?

nope, my dad maybe. but cmon ya dont ask ya kid that youve put trough hell to be your newest childs meter

44. what do you think about when you can’t fall asleep at night?

stuff you don't want to have in your head

45. do you believe in aliens?

well know after area 51

46. what is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for you?

helping me in my darkest days

47. do you find it hard to trust?

very hard lol

48. are you secretive?

oh hunny you don know

49. what colour are your eyes?

blue

50. do you have a nickname?

lucy, jack frost, little bat ( i really liked that one) ghost and a few more that i don't remember

[asphaltapostle]

What I have long predicted is now coming to pass: Google believes it should assume control.

Out of all the technology companies that have made my knees knock and my voice hoarse and my [Tweets manic](https://twitter.com/search?f=tweets&q="google" %40ficklecrux&src=typd) as a technoheretic in the past several years, Jumbo Google would easily take home the winning trophy for Dystopian of the Millennium. I have been rehearsing an especially dear pet prophecy of mine, unsolicited, to family, friends, and podcast guests since 2011 in which I end up arguing quite convincingly that Google is a dead ringer for the 16th-century Vatican: an inherently self-isolating organization with an absolute monopoly yielding gargantuan levels of essentially passive income from a service which nearly everybody transacts with, but only Google understands (and is therefore assumed to be its only possible provider,) which inevitably develops such a distance from the rest of the populace and their way of life (in tandem with total notoriety and celebrity among them all) not intentionally out of malice, but from the delusion of mythically-bestowed philanthropic duty that is borned of and compounded by this economic and cultural isolation in a perpetual accumulation of power and wealth that radicalizes the monopolizers — the majority already highly predisposed to zeal as they would’ve needed to be in order to find themselves in this singular, universally powerful position over every other class — and leaves their egocentric minds to wander exempt from all criticism save for that of fellow radicalized monopolizers, who together begin to feel more and more comfortable wondering aloud about themselves in increasingly fantastic presumptions: what if all of this was bestowed upon us because we are superior to them? What if it is our divine responsibility as superior beings to take charge and shepherd the common people as our sheep — for they cannot possibly know as well as we what is truly best for them?

You see it, right? And you can feel a very specific flavor of terror that is both awed by the scale of the circumstances created by so few human minds and sincerely amused by the absoluteness of your own inability to alter them in any way. Perhaps you even recognize this taste as one perfected by Christianity’s ancient advertising business, but Google knows so much about you that it’s rumored to’ve been selling user data to the Judeochristian God for some time now at a 10% discount, and so we extrapolate and anticipate, yes?

Of course, it’s admittedly satisfying for me to deliver you to this godfearing place in the most perverse look what I saw first that you didn’t see because you’re just not as bright but lucky for you, I’m so fucking generous with my wisdom sort of thinking around which the entire personas and livelihoods of fringe movement fanatics are built upon, but this is my one thing, okay? I’ve been waiting years for the right time to formally argue this theory in depth, and — thanks to this year’s public spotlight finally pivoting on the giants who’ve been silently swallowing their competition and relentlessly forcing their already ridiculous margins higher and higher in relative obscurity for decades, the time has come, indeed. The common people’s trust in Google had a godawful week.

Don’t Be Evil

On Monday, Gizmodo reported that twelve frustrated Google employees were quitting the company in protest of their work assisting the Department of Defense to “implement machine learning to classify images gathered by drones” for the detail fleeting Project Maven, despite some 4000 employee signatures on a letter addressed to CEO Sundar Pichai requesting (in full) that he “cancel this project immediately,” and “draft, publicize, and enforce a clear policy stating that neither Google nor its contractors will ever build warfare technology,” citing the infamous “Don’t Be Evil” motto, which Google then proceeded to remove from its code of conduct for the first time in 18 years the day after the New York Times article went to press, on April 5th.

On initial approach to the abstract of this story, from the ass to our thoughts arrives an easy narrative of a Silicon Valley mutiny comprised of twelve brave, conscientious souls who’ve been eaten up inside by their complicity in the filthy deals made by their power-obsessed CEO over scotch and cigars in a dark D.C. study — kept awake for months by the sound of his puffing cackles at satellite images of dead toddlers in a bombed-out street.

Ah ha, we say. That man is no good, and he just wouldn’t listen! They knew they didn’t have a choice… They only did what they had to do…

The reality of internal disagreements at Google, though, manages to be even more theatrical. The sheer volume of correspondence must surely be beyond anything capable of the enduser’s imagination, so let’s phone a friend: my favorite peek into the day-to-days of inter-Google existence is an old blog post by Benjamin Tilly on his first month at the company in which he was compelled almost immediately to describe in great detail how best to “deal with a lot of email in gmail” at peak efficiency using shortcuts and labels. “As you get email, you need to be aggressive about deciding what you need to see, versus what is context specific.”

Now we have a bit better idea of the aggressive emailing that was a sure constant on a normal workday at Google in 2010, so it must’ve been deafening after 8 years of Gmail development as 4000 employees no doubt vented, debated, and decided to organize last month, though without making much headway because the leadership’s response was apparently “complicated by the fact that Google claims it is only providing open-source software to Project Maven,” this new knowledge having significant effect on our mind’s image of Sundar Pichai’s activities in Washington: he is now swapping seats with a frustrated Colin Powell in order to install OpenOffice onto his desktop from a flash drive, and we recall that Google’s Googleplex headquarters resembles nowhere in modern life more than a brand new playground built in a design language borrowing heavily from Spy Kids. And though these Twelve disciples are unnamed for the moment, a few of them could immediately land book deals by going public, and every single one would always have by default not only the badge of “I landed a job at Google,” (which is really to say I have hit Life’s maximum level cap,) but “I worked at Google for a while, but ended up quitting to do something else,” which is guaranteed to make you the most interesting, intellectually superior person present in whatever crowd for the rest of your life. The ultra-cool Sarah Cooper quit Google to become a comedian and even got to talk to Kara Swisher! I won’t pretend to understand big tech’s diminutive bastardization of prestige, but “more than 90 academics” jumping to publish an open letter (adjacent to a huge DONATE: Support the Campaign to Stop Killer Robots button) in which they “write in solidarity with the 3100+ Google employees” who’s terrible boss decided to help some lackeys in the Pentagon set up their email and didn’t text back for a whole hour doesn’t sound 100% sincere. Notably, I don’t know how or why the fuck 90 people would go about collaborating on a single document, but if it really was managed, they definitely used Google Docs… At one point, it was fun to think about the history of the friendly side-scroller-playing garage ghouls and dorm dorks who gave cooky, wacko names to their dot com startups in parody and defiance of the lame-ass surname anagrams on the buildings of their established competitors, but those who’ve stuck around have only done so by becoming expert at SUCKING UP EVERYTHING around them, and it pisses me off every day how worried I am that my species will finally be done in by a company with a name like Yahoo! and be known only to a bunch of adolescent interdimensional silicon blobs 30 million years in the future as that bipedal race who remained dignified until the last 0.01% of their reign on Earth, when in way less than a single generation, they all just went FUCKING INSANE and blew themselves up because they suddenly hated all sense.

“Google” is perhaps the worst of these to have to shout in fear and/or anger in your last moments as it sounds in American English like you’ve startled your subject with a ticklish pinch followed so immediately by an esophagus-busting chokehold that the two events appear simultaneous, and in real English English, it almost always sounds like a parent speaking of a character on a pre-K children’s television programme whom they find quite foul and upsetting, but will manage to refrain from expressing so otherwise because they know that Teletubbies shit is the most quickly forgotten stage of television viewership. It’s fascinating how exclusive the word “Google” is to American English because in everything else it really is complete nonsense, but lets halt all etymological discussions right now because we’ve only now just finished with Monday.

The Soul Ledger

On Thursday, all of my Google experiences, suppositions, and soul-detaching screenshots were usurped when a thoroughly alarming internal company video called The Selfish Ledger was leaked to The Verge, which I watched once then and do not want to watch again for the sake of this piece, but I will. Though the big V has been disappointingly timid for years about editorializing — when tech journalism desperately needs some confident, informed opinion more than ever — Vlad Savov’s accompanying article should be read in its entirety, to which I can add my own terror where he perhaps could not. The production style is technically identical to that of the very popular thinkpiece-esque, motion-graphics-paired-with-obligatory-sharpie illustrated videos which you find playing at max volume on your mom’s iPad from where she’s fallen asleep on the couch at 9PM, but the repeating stock string soundtrack multiplies one’s discomfort as such that we would all end up in the fetal position without remembering the transition were it not for the appearance of trusty old Dank Jenkins, who’s face I thankfully associate heavily enough with his infamous down-and-out Tweet to be a welcome respite in attention before the very scary hypothesis for which it’s been buttering me up, as best summed by Vlad:

> The system would be able to “plug gaps in its knowledge and refine its model of human behavior” — not just your particular behavior or mine, but that of the entire human species. “By thinking of user data as multigenerational,” explains Foster, “it becomes possible for emerging users to benefit from the preceding generation’s behaviors and decisions.” Foster imagines mining the database of human behavior for patterns, “sequencing” it like the human genome, and making “increasingly accurate predictions about decisions and future behaviors.”

The next time the what if they do something scary question comes up in a casual conversation about Google, you’ll have something a lot more substantial than just speculation. Or will you? The Verge reached out for comment and got an awfully convenient response.

> This is a thought-experiment by the Design team from years ago that uses a technique known as ‘speculative design’ to explore uncomfortable ideas and concepts in order to provoke discussion and debate.

Wow! Leave it up to grand ole Googe to reveal the ultimate excuse for just about any suggestion or behavior, though it does seem almost deliberately uncomfortable, doesn’t it? No matter — whether or not this video was ever about a project or tangible product development, or simply to explore uncomfortable ideas because it is proof that the company has reached that critical Vatican stage — if you’ll remember — where they now feel comfortable exploring Very Bad, but Very easily made Real Ideas amongst themselves about what would happen if they allowed their system to nudge its users around a different, slightly less optimal route to the bar, let’s say — without their knowledge — in order for the system to collect traffic data for the sake of its own interests? Which would be, technically, in the interest of all Ledger users now and in the future, so why not?

> The ledger could be given a focus, shifting it from a system which not only tracks our behavior, but offers direction towards a desired result.”

This, my dear privacy-obsessed friends, is the real issue with data collection — its power over huge groups by way of their behavior and it is never going to be remedied in any significant way by ad-blockers or VPNs because the EndUser shall always out number you 50 to 1, even decades from now. EndUser does not understand — or, crucially, have any desire to understand anything technical about what leads to the PewDiePie videos playing on his filthy screen. Here’s a great opportunity to escape Silicon Valley’s technolibertarianism and resign your Darwinian empathy in favor of meaningful and truly-effective action: if you want to avoid a future Google Church (or Google Government, more worryingly,) you should invest your time, effort, and knowledge into electing officials more capable of understanding and regulating Big Tech.

Google Government

The internet as it stands is made possible by Google as the goto resource for online advertising. In 2016, “Google held 75.8 percent of the search ad market, bringing in $24.6 billion in revenue from search ads,” according to Recode. By 2019, “that’s expected to grow to $36.62 billion in revenue, or 80.2 percent of the market.” Google’s edge in user behavior and targeted advertising combined with their extensive resources available developers to integrate independent platforms with Google’s software services at various levels makes it very difficult for any advertising-funded individual or organization to compete online without dipping in to the Google universe. YouTube — a Google property since 2006 — has actively invested in and supported a new career path entirely within their own platform that is rapidly becoming popularly aspired-to by young children, while the reality of existence as a full-time YouTuber is far less glamorous than the immediately-visible surface would indicate, and the effort already expended by my generation in its pursuit has already made us insane.

So, what would the internet look like if Google didn’t exist? We know they’ve been working with the government now on various projects, but what if some terrible exposed transgression of theirs suddenly warranted an immediate shutdown and seizure of all Google properties? Well, we know from a post on Quora by Googler Ashish Kedia that even 5 years ago, the sudden absence of Google for “2–3 mins” set the internet into a bit of a panic, reducing overall traffic by 40%. In the time since, we’ve all grown exponentially more dependent on Google properties: billions of people rely on Google Maps for directions and, thousands of companies (including the Pentagon and other government institutions) rely on Gmail and GSuites for intercommunication, file sharing, task management, etc., and more and more academic institutions rely on Chromebook devices running connection-dependent operating systems. It’s not much of a stretch to argue that Google’s sudden disappearance would constitute a Civil Emergency in the United States, which will only become a stronger and more serious incentive for regulatory bodies to look the other way.

Though the tangible results of advertising have been quantified significantly in the past 20 years, one can’t help but wonder after watching YouTube ads for the new Mercedes-Benz S-Class on toy unboxing videos if the companies who spend big bucks on Google advertising understand where their money is going, but they know that if they don’t advertise there, their competitors will. This, of course, is a fundamental practice of a monopoly, and it’s yielded Google so much fucking money that they cannot possibly spend it fast enough, as evidenced by their investments in life extension — so that, perhaps, they will have more time on Earth to figure it out.

When you build a collection of the world’s smartest people in a self-sufficient environment that discourages exploration of other lifestyles and ideas, and you sustain the society with a gargantuan, relatively low-maintenance revenue stream, you create a culture which is not only well-primed for isolationism, but is also extremely inefficient. In fact, with its vast collection of abandoned products and properties, Google must surely be one of the most inefficient companies in history. Thinking back on recent software releases along with its recent entries into the hardware space, Google is also one of the worst competing tech companies. Very little aside from Gmail, Google Photos, Google Maps, and Chrome have found their place or garnered significant usership. Google Play Music is unintuitive and impossible, Google Allo and Google+ are all but forgotten addendums to other services, and Google Search — its core, original function — has been out of control for years, and all of them are designed blandly and excruciatingly tiring to look at.

Google Shun

If this all has stirred nothing more in you than a desire to eliminate Google from your own online life as much as possible, there are alternatives in almost every one of the sphere’s they dominate. As of late, DuckDuckGo has accumulated a fair amount of buzz and coverage as a private, more relevant alternative to Google’s plain old search engine. Though it is clever enough to list us as the first result for “extratone,” I’ve found it simply insufficient as a replacement in my own life because, essentially, it rarely delivers what I’m looking for. By contrast, Dropbox Paper is such an elegant cloud notetaking and word processing software that it makes Google Docs look simply idiotic (and warrants its own review very shortly.) For getting around, know that MapQuest is not only still around — it’s now a very competitive mobile navigation app.

I, myself, have allowed Google as complete of access to my information and behavior as possible because I believe “privacy” is a completely futile endeavor if one wishes to be a part of society, though I do often use alternatives to Google services simply because I fucking hate the way they look. If you want a more complete list of services and software that allow one to shun the Google God entirely, you’ll be forced to seek out less dignified sources like Lifehacker and Reddit and decide if the additional time you’ll spend using most of them to accomplish the same tasks is really worth your digital angst.

If Google were to be more explicit with its users and staff about its aspirations to take over control of our lives, there will be little to do but accept the future they intend to create because they’ve long been too powerful to control. In the meantime, I’d suggest you continue to use whatever software works best for you and refrain from wasting your time fretting on conspiratorial suppositions of what the tech industry may be doing to “invade your privacy,” because there is no longer any such thing, nor will there be ever again. However, I would also urge to you worship your own Gods, whomever they may be, for Google will never be worthy. I, for one, shall only pray to our Mother Sun.

#social #google #future #web #privacy

original post

[mintyjin]

coffeeshop au: bambam

listen, life is hard

you gotta get up and go to work every morning and that’s rough

on top of that, some customers just don’t understand human limitations

for example, the asshole that called in and ordered 63 pink donuts from your coffeeshop

yo. wtf.

what do you even do with 63 pink donuts

the more pressing question is how on earth do you make 63 donuts before 9:00am

cause oh yeah! asshole needs them by 9:00

donuts aren’t even your shop’s specialty like dude what is you thinking

you’re a coffee and donuts place but fr now

but you’re the manager and your employees are slightly panicking so you take a few deep breaths and get to work

thankfully you had a large batch of dough you had made before closing up the previous day in the fridge

you’ve got two people rolling dough and cutting out donuts in between making coffee orders

two people making frosting

and you’re doing your best to fry these things on your own

silently planning the death of whoever ordered the 63 pink donuts and brought this calamity upon you

somehow, it works and you’ve got 63 beautiful donuts in their boxes waiting to be picked up

and you are so ready for the customer to walk through the door. you are so ready

they gonna catch some hands

but there are other customers to take care of and one poor employee has been working the register by herself while donut nonsense was happening

so you man the other register for the time being

and it looks like your day is getting better because that one customer is a SNACK

and he’s in line for your register hallelujah praise be

and you’re actually excited when he gets to the front of the line because seriously, the guy is too cute for words

“Hi, uhhh, I called in an order of 63 pink donuts earlier? The name is BamBam.” 

oh boy 

your jaw drops a little bit and all you can say is, “You’re the pink donuts guy?” 

and he’s like...yeah ?

and you’re just like. wow. ok. give me one second 

you go to grab the boxes and you’re just dying internally because why is it always the best looking ones that order 63 donuts within an hour and a half of pickup 

and you’re so confused as to why he needs so many 

when you hand him the boxes, you almost blurt out the question but

“Thanks a lot! I know this is kind of an irrational order but you make the best donuts and we really need them, so...” 

and he’s obviously a little embarrassed that he put your shop in such a state and 

sigh 

whatever, he’s cute 

you just smile and say, “The pink ones are my favorites, too. Hope you enjoy!” 

and he’s smiling, too, now. and his smile is really great. so that helps 

next thing you know, he’s balancing the boxes on one hand and reaching for the door with the other and is looking over his shoulder to say goodbye and wait a second-

a light thud that may or may not have come from him running into the door 

thankfully the donuts are ok and he is too so you have permission to laugh 

and boy oh boy do you laugh 

like a loud laugh because this guy is just such a character 

but instead of getting offended or whatever he just laughs along with you and waves goodbye before very carefully maneuvering himself through the door 

pink donut boy is a dork 

a few days later, you’re opening shop as usual when in walks pink donut boy 

and he orders two americanos and.... two pink donuts 

..............................what the hell

and apparently you voiced your sentiments aloud cause he starts laughing 

“It’s been a while since the last order of pink donuts,” he says but no it hasn’t, it’s been three days and you tell him so 

he explains that it’s not just him eating the donuts, it’s also his six best friends but that’s still 9 donuts each... and three days...

he’s like... yeah? 

but he’s also blushing just a tiny bit and you can tell he knows you’re judging him really hard 

you can’t help but smile at the situation because wowwww this guy is a lot isn’t he 

bambam starts coming in the shop at least twice a week to order coffee and a pink donut 

you don’t even ask for his order anymore you just know it 

and you’ve grown to really like him cause he’s always doing some bullshit 

for example, once he came in with a friend and stuck straws up his nostrils and pretended to be a walrus and you’ve never seen a grown ass man do that so shamelessly in public 

another time he sang along to a song that was playing and made your sides hurt from laughter because the boy cannot sing ok 

but then later he started rapping along to something and you were like bruh that’s talent right there wtf 

but your impressed state was quickly ruined when he dabbed 

you were like. nope. get out. 

but you would never kick him out for real because he always makes things a little funnier and easier to deal with 

and you’ve grown to be friends so oftentimes you’ll take your break when he comes in to sit and eat pink donuts with him for a while  

he’ll tell you stories of him and his best friends that always leave you with tears in your eyes from all the laughter 

or he’ll make some stupid facial expression that has you doubled over 

and then you two are just laughing manically for 10 minutes straight before you have to pull yourself together and get back to work 

somewhere along the line you got his number but all your conversations consist of is bambam sending you random memes and telling you when he’ll stop by your shop so you can take your break and talk to him 

which is a bit of a letdown because he’s very attractive and funny and smart when he wants to be and you want to talk to him more outside of work 

hmmmm is this a crush? yes

but one day, he comes into the shop without having told you he was going to and he’s got a weird expression 

he’s smiling, which is typical bam, but something just feels a bit off 

so you motion for him to sit down at a table and tell your coworkers you’re taking your break 

you grab two donuts and fill two little cups with water 

but bam barely even glances at his donut

he makes eye contact with you, visibly sucks in a breath, and then looks down into his water

naturally, you’re worried and asking if he’s ok 

he’s denying anything is wrong but he still can’t seem to look at you 

and you’re like, “Did I do something? Are you mad at me?” which makes him snap his head up to look at you and his jaw drops

 “No! You didn’t do anything! I’m not mad at all!” he exclaims, waving his hands, his eyes wide, “It’s just complicated.” 

and you’re like dude??? are you ok??

he's visibly blushing now 

“Y/N, do you want to go on a date with me? Like... not in this coffee shop?”

now you’re blushing

but of course you say you do 

and the biggest smile breaks across his face 

he starts doing this little relieved laugh that makes you melt, pressing his hand against his chest and just being adorable and dorky all at once 

he says he’ll take you to the amusement park that weekend 

but for now, pink donuts 

and you’re down with that