#like hell i was gonna cry in front of some nearly 100 people. like fucking hell.

[orcelito]

Actually I get why people want to break things. I really wanted to kick things in with my heels at the start of the funeral. Unfortunately there were many people and it was cold outside so I couldn't go to decompress. So I just cried in the bathroom and then my aunt found me shortly after and she made things feel at least a little better.

[spgothkidsheadcanons]

Can I ask for the goth kids with a s/o who’s being severely bullied?

Of course you can! I hope you enjoy :) And if you ever need anyone to talk to about anything, you can always shoot me a message!

Warnings: reader being bullied, mentions of bullying

~~~~~~~~

Unfortunately, you were a subject to bullying. You had no clue why. You were sweet, stayed to yourself, hell, you usually had your face buried in a book 24/7. It made you wonder why you were subject to people’s taunts, and even more so made you wonder why these young adults were acting like they were still in highschool. You thought since it was college, all the senseless bullying and bitching would end. God, you wished you were so lucky.

Leaving your college for the last time that day, you trudged to your car. Cranking the engine, you whipped out of your parking spot, practically flooring it as tears began to bubble up in your eyes. Your heart hurt at the words of the bullies, your stomach twisting uneasily as the weight of their words finally began to settle in your mind. Nearly blinded by the tears welping up in your eyes, it was like your body had taken control of itsself, managing to get you home with water clouded vision.

Arriving at your home, you shut your car off, not bothering to grab your stuff as you ran to the front door, flinging it open and slamming it shut behind you. You looked to the couch, seeing that you’re love was sitting there, the television running but attention on you. You flung yourself on them, burying your face into their lap. Stroking your hair, they asked you:

Michael:

“Hey, what’s the matter?” your boyfriend, Michael, asked softly. You never picked up your head, mumbling something into his lap. “What?” he asked, brows furrowing. Turning around, you rested your head against his thighs, his fingers never stopping running through your (h/c) locks. “I feel like I’m in fucking highschool again.” you groaned, your (e/c) eyes looking into his deep brown ones. Michael winced, noticing how your eyes were red and slightly swollen.

“What happened?” he prodded, reaching to grab the television remote to mute the background noise. “I’m getting fucking bullied. For everything. My hair, my body, my voice, hell, even the way that I act. I can’t read my book while not bothering anyone without someone saying some shit about it. I fucking hate that stupid ass college. Everyday makes me want to drop out!” you snapped at no one in particular, hands moving wildly as you explained your woes. Michael wiped away the tears that you didn’t even know were running down your cheeks, too caught up in your story to notice.

“Don’t let those dickhats get to you, (Y/n),” Michael started, rubbing your cheeks to soothe you, “They’re nobodies. They peaked in highschool, and all they know is how to be an asshole. If you wanna drop out of college, I support you 100%, but they don’t deserve your tears. We can get you enrolled into some online classes, as long as you’ll be happy and stop coming home crying.” You stared up at Michael, listening to the sweet tone in his voice. Smiling up at him, you leaned up, pressing a kiss against his lips. “Thank you, Michael. I love you.” you murmured, pressing your forehead against his. “I love you, more.” he replied, wrapping an arm around you to pull you close.

Henrietta:

“What’s wrong, dear?” Henrietta hummed, her fingers twisting in your hair. You sighed heavily, breath catching as though you were ready to sob. “I’m just sick of being bullied, Hen. Like, that’s middle school shit, I’m in college. I shouldn’t have to feel like ripping my hair out because of some stupid ass words.” you huffed, the sadness you came home with being replaced with anger by the whole situation. Your girlfriend hummed, beginning to braid small strands of your hair.

“Bullying sucks, no matter what age you are. And sadly, it’s just gonna happen. That’s the sick, twisted reality of being alive.” she explained, using logic to make you feel better. “But when will it ever fucking end? I don’t do anything to anybody. Why is it just me?” you retorted, voice cracking as you started crying. Henrietta sighed, her fingers stalling their braiding. “Turn over.” she ordered. You obliged, turning to lay on your back instead of your stomach, your tear filled eyes looking up at her. It hurt her to see you upset, but she knew sugarcoating things was not the way to go.

“It’s not just you, (Y/n). I was bullied for years because of my weight… Not even was. I still get comments made about my body, but I literally do not give a shit. Because at the end of the day, they go home to their dog, or cat, or no one, and end up crying themselves to sleep because they’re sad and alone forever. Meanwhile, I get to go home, eat dinner with you, and then sleep in the same bed as someone who loves me. The only difference between our experiences is that I never gave a shit. I don’t care what people say about me, and you really shouldn’t either. It’s not good for your brain.” Henrietta explained, tapping your forehead. You stayed silent, thinking on her words.

“I guess you’re right…” you said quiety. Henrietta smiled, leaning down to plant a kiss on your forehead. “I know I’m right.” she quipped, pressing a few more kisses over your face. “Now, stop crying. It’s gonna make me kill a bitch.” your girlfriend threatened, resuming her attention back to the show she was watching. You smiled fondly up at her, a dreamy look in your eyes. “I think I’m more attracted to you than I ever was.” you mumbled, your heart fluttering in your chest.

Pete:

“What’s up?” Pete inquired, turning his full attention to you. You turned on your back to look up at him, a frown evident on your face. “I’m being bullied… I feel like a teenager again.” you griped, anger flaring. You couldn’t even be sad at this point. The fact that you were a victim of this bullshit did nothing but make your blood boil. Pete’s heart broke seeing how bad the bullying was affecting you.

“Why don’t you just drop out?” your boyfriend suggested, snapping you out of your thoughts. Dropping out was definitely a possibility, but it was going to be such a pain to find classes to do online. “Well, I’d have to enroll in classes online.” you replied. “No you don’t. Drop out of college completely,” Pete said nonchalantly, “What good is it doing you anyway? If you drop out, then you never run the risk of being bullied.”

You listened to his words, mulling what he was saying over in your head. Pete was right. The senseless bullying would end and you wouldn’t have to be subject to the terror that is college-turned-highschool ever again. Sighing, you nodded, confirming his offer. “It would also give me more time to annoy you.” you snickered, reaching your hand up to pinch Pete’s cheek. He grumbled, rolling his eyes. “Nevermind, stay in school so I can have my 8 hours of freedom.”

[whumpmatsus]

Ooo my bad, maybe Jyushi gets a stomach ache and Kara tends to him? Giving him water or something to ease the pain. Or getting him to lay down and rest!

aaaaaaa I love them 😭

-

To be completely fair to Karamatsu, his choice of restaurant isn’t really to blame for Jyushimatsu’s appetite.

In fact, it’s debatable that even Jyushimatsu is to blame for his appetite. It’s more the fact that he just eats so fastthat it would be a miracle if his brain registers that he’s had a whole meal before he goes back for more. Typically by the time he processes that he’s full, he’s had two or three more servings.

It’s no wonder that he often ends up with a stomachache if he’s given the chance to inhale more food than he really should. Most of the time, though, it quiets down after a little bit of relaxing and maybe a tummy rub from one of his brothers.

Of course, while the two of them are out at a fast food place, it’s not like they can just lie down in the middle of the floor and try to chill. … Well, they could,but they’d probably end up getting kicked out before making any significant progress.

So the second Jyushimatsu gets a little pale and complains that he’s not feeling too well, Karamatsu’s first immediate thought is along the lines of, We’re fucked.

And in Jyushimatsu’s defense, Karamatsu should have been a better big brother and cautioned him against ordering as much food as he did. Even if he had, however, what else could he have done except give a warning? Jyushimatsu’s an adult, it’s his money from the allowance Dad gave him, and he can make his own choices, can’t he? Or at least he should be expected to. He probably wouldn’t take being bossed around and told what to do, and it’s not like anyone can forcehim.

As usual, though, Karamatsu has let one of his little brothers down. The least he can do is try to make it up by figuring a quick way out of the situation. He springs to his feet, setting a hand down on Jyushimatsu’s shoulder. If they need to move fast, he should be prepared. “Alright, you don’t feel well. Understood, dear brother. Is it your stomach?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Alright… how bad does it feel?”

Jyushimatsu ponders the question for a second, before holding up both hands, covered by his condiment-stained sleeves, over his mouth. “Um. Gonna… gonna throw up.”

Shit.Karamatsu knows his little brother wouldn’t say something so decisive without knowing that yeah, he’s about to hurl. “Alright, let’s get up. Do you want to go to the bathroom here or try to make it to the car where I believe I have a plastic bag?”

It almost looks like he’s considering the possibility that he could make it to the car, then suddenly his face turns a bit green. “― Bathroom!”

That one word combined with his younger brother’s urgent expression and tone of voice spur Karamatsu into action. He moves like lightning, pulling Jyushimatsu to his feet and practically dragging the other man toward the tiny partition on the other side of the counter.

A three-part harmony shriek of horror tells him he probably should have paid more attention to the signs on the doors. He offers a hasty apology to the offended ladies inside as he yanks his brother away from the door. (Although he knows Jyushimatsu is desperate, even this kind of emergency doesn’t constitute staying in the women’s restroomto puke.) As soon as he does, Jyushimatsu gags into his hands and Karamatsu knows they don’t have much time. Once Jyushimatsu starts making audible sounds like that, the full event isn’t too far away.

“I-it’s alright, it’s alright,” he tries to reassure as he tugs Jyushimatsu into the men’s restroom. “If you can wait a second, we’re nearly there!”

He does his best, but they never even make it into a stall. Once the door closes, Jyushimatsu stumbles toward the mirrors… and proceeds to vomit into the sink. Geez.Karamatsu feels himself wince at the thought of the poor worker making like ¥100 an hour who’ll have to clean this up.

Well, he can’t focus on that part right now. This can’t be pleasant for Jyushimatsu either, obviously.

The sound of everything he’s just eaten splattering against the edges of the sink is no match for the way he’s retching and sputtering. It looks like he started out trying to brace himself with both hands clutching the countertop; now, he’s sunk to only having his elbows propping him up, both hands up against the side of his head.

Karamatsu sets a gentle hand on his brother’s back, trying to be of some little comfort while his entire meal comes back up. Though he can’t remember Jyushimatsu ever eating himself sick like this before, he supposes it was bound to happen sooner or later with the way the fifth oldest tends to shovel food down.

He wants to think this memory of his stomach turning itself inside out will serve as a lesson to slow down in the future. To be mindful of how fast and how much he’s eating. Even someone as hopelessly delusional as Karamatsu has to acknowledge that’s a long shot, though.

After a moment the gagging and heaving finally dies down. Jyushimatsu is left gasping as he tries to get his breath back. When Karamatsu peeks over, he sees that there are tears starting to roll down his little brother’s face.

That earns an extra few seconds of back-rubbing from Karamatsu out of pure pity that this was either emotionally draining or physically forceful enough to make Jyushimatsu cry. “Aaah, my little Jyushimatsu,” he hums. “Does it feel a little better now that you’ve been sick?”

He nods weakly. “A little. I… think I ate too much, Karamatsu-nii-san.”

“Hmph, I think so, too.” Karamatsu reaches over to grab a handful of paper towels, pressing them to Jyushimatsu’s mouth. “Next time you might eat a bit slower or listen to your big brother telling you not to eat so much. But… it’s alright. What else are big brothers for, but to care for their younger brothers? I think perhaps we should go home.”

“Mhm, yeah. I wanna lie down and snuggle a pillow against my stomach.”

Well, that certainly sounds like a plan. “Alright, then. How about a drink for the ride home? Something easy to settle your stomach.”

“Ooh… Sprite?”

“Mh, I think they have that.” He gives an affectionate squeeze to Jyushimatsu’s shoulder. “Will you be okay by yourself for a moment while I go get that and dispose of the trash we left on the table?”

“Yeah, mhm. I’ll hold onto the counter.”

Ah. Yeah. That’s a relief. At least it’ll keep him from getting dizzy or passing out if he tries to move on his own. “Good! I’ll be back before you know it.”

Karamatsu can’t apologize enough to the person working at the counter of this place, telling them that his baby brother threw up in the bathroom sink and he’d clean it up if he could but he should get his brother home just in case andalsoasmallSpritetogoplease?

For once, he can kind of understand why people think he’s painful. The cashier has this blank look before muttering, “Excruciating…”and ringing him out for the drink. He kind of wishes the floor would open up and swallow him and he’s pretty sure he now knows how Ichimatsu feels when talking to people all the damn time. He’s surprised he doesn’t just burst into flames from the sheer awkwardness.

After a bunch of apologies, he manages to herd Jyushimatsu into the car so they can head home. He does find a plastic bag for his brother to hold, just in case he feels like throwing up again, just until they get back.

To his credit, Jyushimatsu is calm as can be on the ride home. He sips at his Sprite and closes his eyes so he doesn’t feel motion sick and hums along quietly to the radio. He’s so cooperative Karamatsu wants to ask who the hell he is and what he’s done with Jyushimatsu.

When they walk into the house, he ushers Jyushimatsu through the main rooms, up the stairs, and onto the couch in the spare room. The others save for Totty are spread out among the floor; Choromatsu and Osomatsu seem to be reading, and Ichimatsu has a cat cradled up in his arms… wrapped in one of Karamatsu’s shirts. Fantastic. Nothing like cat hair all over his clothes so he’ll be all itchy and sneezy when he decides to try and steal it back.

As he tries to get his brother set up on the couch, Choromatsu seems to fully realize what’s going on. “Oh, hey, you two are back. That was pretty fast. Uh… is Jyushimatsu okay?”

Jyushimatsu waves his hands in the air. “I threw up!”

“Tch.” Ichimatsu shifts in position, stretching one leg out. “That’s what you guys get for going to a shitty burger place. Next time just eat here where the food’s free and won’t make you hurl.”

Karamatsu plops down onto the floor in front of the couch, and is promptly slapped over the shoulder by one of Jyushimatsu’s jellylike arms. “Hmph… as I’m still spectacular, you should already know it wasn’t the food. Sweet little Jyushimatsu just ate too much of it.”

“Geez,” Choromatsu chuckles as he gets up, “someone’s eyes are bigger than his stomach. Well, you guys are home now, so you can relax and maybe start feeling better.” He brushes a hand over Jyushimatsu’s stomach and earns a soft mewl of gratitude before pulling away. “How about I make you some ginger tea?”

Karamatsu moves to get up almost immediately. “Oh, no, Choromatsu, I’ll get it! All the rest of my dearest brothers were already relaxing, so allow me to―”

“Nooooooooo,” Jyushimatsu interrupts with a whine, pulling him back down with now both arms. In a. Very. Tight hold. “I want you to stay with me, Karamatsu-nii-san!”

“Ah…! Okay, alright…” He tries to take a breath and pats lightly at his brother’s hands. “A-ah, my sweet little Jyushimatsu… let go… ahahaha… b-big brother’s not going anywhere, I promise, so you can let go of him!”

“Aaaaaah.” Jyushimatsu’s arms go lax, though he starts tugging on Karamatsu’s hand while his brother tries to get a decent breath in. “Belly rubs?”

“Hmph… sure, anything for my dearest younger brother. Just let me know if I’m being too rough; I would never want to hurt you.” He adjust himself so he can still be in a comfortable position while being able to reach Jyushimatsu’s stomach, giving tender strokes as well as he’s able.

The door slides open and Choromatsu gives a quiet hum at the scene. “Well, you both try to chill out, then. I’ll go get that tea, alright?”

“Heyyyyy,” Osomatsu suddenly speaks up. “Can you make some for me, too?? Or maybe a beer? I’m thirsty!”

All he gets in response is the sound of the door shutting.

The eldest pouts. “Hey, I know you heard me!! You’re such an ass! Grab me a beer, Fappymatsu!!”

Karamatsu lets out a low laugh and continues to carefully rub at his little brother’s stomach. “Hmph, so things are totally normal around here. At least that’s a comfort, isn’t it, Jyushimatsu?”

“Ah-hah! I’d feel weird if we got home and everyone was being all nice to each other.”

“Heh.” He leans his head back with a soft sigh. “That’s right. You only need onebig brother to be nice to you and that’s me. Any other requests besides the tummy rubs, you beautiful bastard?”

Jyushimatsu giggles and nestles his head closer against Karamatsu’s. “Hmmm… nope! I think I’m good just like this.”

Karamatsu closes his eyes. “You know… I think I am, too.”

[bibliophilea]

The End - Ch. 1

Happy Holiday Truce, @mystyrust! Sorry to make you wait - I wanted to do something big, but I forgot to take into account two things: I am a slow writer, and this story became too big to handle as a oneshot. I do have big ideas for where I want this story to go, but we'll see how the story builds itself as I write! Happy Holidays!

If elements of this story seem familiar, that’s because they are! This is based on @lexosaurus‘s tags on @dannys-phucking-dead‘s post! I hope you enjoy!

ffn | ao3

>1< 2 3 4 ...

"Listen. I've met a lot of great asteroids. Really fantastic asteroids. And they've all told me themselves — they said that I was a great president. All of them said that — all one hundred thousand asteroids. I was there."

The camera switches to Tiffany Snow, sitting at the anchor desk.

"This is what President Drumpf had to say yesterday regarding NASA's claims that an unforeseen asteroid is approximately 21 days from hitting the Earth, creating an extinction-level event on par with what took out the dinosaurs," Snow states with a cheerful smile. "Polls suggest that approximately 48.2% of the population believe NASA's claims to be a hoax; 29.5% believe it's the end of the world; and 22.3% is undecided. Lance, can you tell us a bit about Amity Park's response to NASA's claims?"

The camera switches to a street view outside of Amity Park's capitol building. People crowd the streets, many of them yelling and holding signs. Some signs read "THE END IS NIGH". Others say "ASTEROID SHMASTEROID". A few say "DEFUND NASA". One sign says "[citation needed]".

"Certainly, Tiffany," Lance Thunder replies, nearly shouting over the crowd. "As you can see here, tensions are high in Amity Park. Citizens gather to make their voices heard amidst NASA's claims of doom and gloom. Hey, Bob, what do you think of NASA's statement?"

Thunder turns to a middle aged man beside him wearing a bright red cap. The man bends to put his face by the microphone Thunder is brandishing.

"It's fake news, is what it is! I mean, come on! How does a freaking asteroid come out of nowhere? It's a China conspiracy, I tell you!"

Bob nods, and Thunder takes back the microphone. "Well, you heard it here, folks. Amity Park's citizens think NASA's claims are a ho—"

"THE END IS NIGH!"

A woman wearing a sign with the same message butts in, snatching the microphone from Thunder.

"The Disasteroid cometh for us all! Soon it will be Judgement Day and all of you Non Believers will be found Wanting!"

Thunder squawks. "Hey! That is APN property! Give that back!"

The camera turns to focus on Thunder and the woman as they fight over the microphone, their squabbling barely audible over the feedback. Then the feed cuts back to Tiffany Snow.

"Wow Lance, looks like no one can break Amity Park's spirit," Snow says with a grin. "In other news, Congress has voted to defund NASA—"

The TV clicks off.

Danny carefully puts down the remote before he allows himself to shake. His fists clench, and he hides them under folded arms, lest they be seen bursting into ectoplasmic flame. His face feels taut, teeth clenched, eyes abnormally dry. Toxic green edges his vision, and he clamps his eyes shut, lest they be seen glowing green with his anger.

And oh, he is angry.

NASA is a world leader in space aviation and exploration, and Congress is defunding them. And for what? Because they told the truth? Because there's a humongous asteroid about to hit the Earth? They should be funneling emergency money towards NASA, not taking money away! The world needs NASA, now more than ever! Danny has seen the images NASA shared — the images the media doesn't dare share, lest the wrath of one President Drumpf befall them. He doesn't know how everyone missed it — it's huge and it's glowing green and no stars glow green like that — but now that everyone knows about it, there should be some sort of plan to stop it, right? Wrong! The president says it's fake news, and Congress follows suit, and the biggest space programs in the world can't agree on what to do about it when half the world doesn't even think it's real and oh god we're gonna die like actually 100% die and it's not ghosts it's not Pariah Dark it's a big fucking SPACE ROCK that's going to do us in for good and there'll be no more habitable Earth and no more Ghost Zone and we're all going to DIE—

A hand touches Danny's knee, and he gasps, eyes flying open, cringing away from the contact.

Through the green haze in his vision he sees bright orange and immediately shuts his eyes again. They can't see, can't see him freak out, can't see his powers freak out with him—

The hand touches his knee again, and he freezes at the touch, body tense, teeth clenched, eyes shut tight. Another hand touches his arm and he takes in a breath, shuddering as the hand slowly moves to his shoulder, and then to his back, rubbing large, soothing circles. Danny tries to time his breathing to the circles, like Jazz had taught him to, and slowly the blood rushing in his ears (when had that happened?) quiets to a dull roar.

"There we go Danny, see, just breathe. You're okay. You're at home, and Mom and Dad are out, and you don't have to hide."

Danny uncurls slightly at the sound of his sister's voice. He opens his eyes a crack — just enough to see past the green haze — and really looks this time. The orange isn't the same shade as his dad's jumpsuit — it's a lighter, more natural color, and it surrounds a face with concerned, green eyes. Jazz. Jazz is here, and she has her hand on his knee, and she's rubbing circles into his back, and he's kind of sort of getting the hang of breathing with the rhythm of those circles. He leans into her, and she bundles him into a hug, still rubbing circles into his back.

The front door opens, and Danny and Jazz both freeze. Jazz said Mom and Dad are out, but what if they're back? They can't see him like this, they'll find out!

Danny has half a mind to just turn invisible when their voices hit his ears.

"Man, dude, did you see what Congress did to NASA? That's so unfair!"

"It's totally unfair! They're just telling the truth! This whole administration is the absolute worst!"

Tucker. Sam. Danny relaxes slightly at their voices, but he doesn't turn around — doesn't want them to see him like this, either.

But it's too late.

"Woah, dude, you okay?"

"Danny!"

He hears them rush over to him — feels their worry and the warmth of their bodies as they get close — and tenses up again. He should be better than this, stronger than this! He shouldn't be freaking out about some dumb news report.

Not just a dumb news report, his brain helpfully supplies. We're all going to die. And there's nothing you can do about it.

All of a sudden, Jazz's embrace feels too tight. To constraining. Trapping him where he is.

He slips intangible and flees from Jazz, flees from his friends — flees upwards, up through the ceiling and through the roof and through the Ops Center, flees until there's no more house to flee from. He lands hard on the roof of the Ops Center, scraping his knees but it doesn't matter, hands scorching the metal but who cares, it's just the end of the world—

He pulls his knees to his chest and buries his head in them, his face screwing as he tries to get a hold of himself, tries to rein himself in, it's just the end of the world, just the end of Mom and Dad and Jazz and Sam and Tucker and school and movies and parks and people and everything and everyone he'd ever tried to protect—

"Bite this."

Danny feels something cool touch his lips, and he bites down — then coughs and spits as bitter rind and sour citrus burst in his mouth.

He looks up to see Tucker triumphantly brandishing a whole lemon with a chunk bitten out of it. Sam and Jazz stand to either side of him, varying levels of worry and amusement fighting for dominance in their faces. Danny spits again, and stares at the bits of rind and lemon pulp that vacate his mouth.

"What the hell?"

"Told you it'd work!" Tucker crows.

"A lemon?" Danny splutters.

"It's an... unorthodox grounding technique," Jazz responds, "and it normally isn't administered like that—"

"Point is, it works," Sam interjects. "How're you feeling?"

Danny stares at the three of them for a moment. Then he sighs and chuckles darkly. "The worlds going to end because too many people don't believe NASA about an asteroid hurtling towards Earth, and Tucker made me bite into a lemon. How am I supposed to feel?"

He sighs again, long, hard, and shuddering, and he lets himself fall backwards onto the warm metal of the Ops Center roof. Jazz lies down across from him, and Sam and Tucker lie to either side of him, all their heads nearly touching. The sky above them is bright blue, clear of clouds. Birds flit across Danny's vision, twittering as they chase each other before flying off to who knows where. Does it even matter? They'll all be dead in a few weeks.

"I don't want to die again."

The words slip from his mouth, and he feels his breath hitch, watches as his vision goes blurry. His hands begin to clench into fists — but then Sam and Tucker take his hands, massaging the tension from his fingers and palms, and Jazz runs her hand through his hair like she used to do when they were kids and he'd had a nightmare, and something in him breaks.

A sob wrenches itself from his throat, and he curls in on himself. His sister and friends move to hold him close, and he can't help but lean into their touch. They hold him as his eyes glow green, as his hands fist into the metal of the roof, as his sobs take on a ghostly tinge, nearly wailing his grief and his anger and his fear into the sky. He shudders as he cries, and feels as they shudder with him — feels as Sam and Tucker push their faces into his shirt, and as Jazz buries her face in his hair — feels as his shirt and his head where their faces lie become damp.

Crying. They're crying.

And it's his fault.

A wave of guilt washes over him, and he wants to pull away again, wants to force himself to stop crying, to be strong for them. But their grips on him tighten, and they speak to him, words warped by their own tears. "Just let it out," Tucker mutters into his back. "It's okay to cry," Sam whispers into his shoulder. "You don't have to hide," Jazz repeats into his hair.

But beneath their words, beneath their tight hold on him and the way they push their faces against him is a hidden plea: "Stay," they say.

Please stay.

So Danny stays.

Danny stays, and they cry together, and the sun shines down upon them from the clear blue sky.

*~*~*

Danny doesn't know how long it's been. Only that he's no longer crying, and that his friends and sister are no longer crying. They've melted into a cuddle pile of four, with Danny at the center, and the sun beats down on them from a different angle than before. Danny has wound up with his head in Jazz's lap, and she's playing with his hair. Sam and Tucker are on top of him, still holding his hands. Their weight is comforting.

Danny is exhausted. He just wants to fall asleep and deal with everything later. Crying in front of your friends and sister will do that, his brain helpfully supplies. So will the end of the world.

He sighs heavily and moves to sit up. Sam and Tucker get off him, still holding his hands, and Jazz helps him up, moving from playing with his hair to rubbing circles on his back. He smiles faintly at all of them.

"Thanks, guys," he whispers hoarsely. He really does have the best friends and best sister in the world.

Too bad they're all going to die in three weeks.

He frowns and sighs again, too tired to cry.

"It's heavy stuff, huh," Jazz says gently. Danny looks back at her, an eyebrow raised. She continues. "The thought of everything ending like that — it's really hard to think about. Hell, I'm having trouble processing it." She smiles gently at him. "It's okay to be scared and angry, and it's okay to be scared and angry in front of us. You don't have to hide."

"Okay, okay, I get it," Danny mutters. "No more running away."

"Good," Sam remarks. "Now, what are we going to do about everything?"

"What do you mean?" Danny asks.

"You know. The asteroid?" Sam raises an eyebrow.

"Oh yeah. That." Danny frowns down at the roof of the Ops Center. The metal is warped and singed where his hands had dug into it. "What are we supposed to do about that?" He looks back up at Sam. Her eyes bear into his, and her grip on his hand tightens.

"Look, I know this is hard for you. It's hard for me, too. But we can't just sit here and do nothing."

Danny frowns at her. He opens his mouth to respond, but Tucker gets there first.

"Look, I know we need to have this conversation, I really do. But can we have it inside? The metal's starting to get really hot." Tucker stands up, rubbing his free hand on his jeans from touching the roof.

Danny sighs and stands up, stretching the kinks from his back. Sam and Jazz stand up with him.

"On it," Danny says. "Everyone hold tight."

He feels Sam's and Tucker's grips tighten on his hands, and he feels Jazz grab his shoulder. With a poke at his core, he tugs them all intangible, slipping through the roof to the refreshingly cool interior of the Ops Center. He lets go of intangibility and lets gravity embrace them slowly, gently depositing them all on the floor of the Ops Center. Then he lets go of his friends' hands and steps forwards, turning so he's facing the three of them.

"So, what are we supposed to do, huh? Half the world thinks the asteroid's a hoax, and the other half either doesn't have the money to do anything, or is stuck in petty arguments about what to do and who's to blame and all that shit." Danny crosses his arms and frowns.

"Dude, you're the Ghost King," Tucker's quick to reply. "Doesn't that mean you can, like, do anything?"

Danny facepalms. "Oh my god, Tucker, I'm not the Ghost King. I told the Observants I don't want any part of it. And besides, even if I were, who's going to listen to me? Klemper? The Box Ghost? I'm sure they can convince the world to get its shit together!"

"Hey!" Sam interjects. "You can't just focus on what we can't do. We need to focus on what we can do, as a team."

"Oh, and what can we do, Sam? We're way out of our depth here! The four of us can't stop the asteroid from hitting Earth!"

"You're right, Danny," Jazz says. Sam and Tucker gape at her.

"But dude—"

"You can't just—"

"Hey, let me speak!" Jazz waits until Sam and Tucker close their mouths — Tucker with a perplexed look on his face, Sam with an expectant frown.

"We are out of our depth," Jazz states. "We don't have the resources or political pull here on Earth or in the Ghost Zone to make a significant difference." She pauses. "But we know someone who does."

It takes a moment, but Sam gets it first.

"Oh, ew, we are not asking him for help!"

"Wait." Tucker says. "Asking who for—" horror dawns on his face. "Oh, no. No no no. We can't! Why would you even think of that?"

"Think of what?" Danny asks, a little annoyed that he doesn't get it.

"Asking Vlad," Sam, Tucker, and Jazz reply.

"Oh, ew!" Danny says automatically.

Jazz rolls her eyes. "It's not like I want to talk to him either! I just think given the circumstances, we don't have much choice."

"There's always a choice, Jazz," Sam retorts. "He'll probably try and force Danny to stay with him in exchange for his help."

"Yeah, Jazz," Tucker adds. "He's a slimeball. Who knows how he'll try to play this to his advantage."

"But—"

"I think Jazz is right," Danny says.

Sam, Tucker, and Jazz stare at Danny, flabbergasted. Danny blushes.

"Well, it's like Jazz said — I don't want to, but I don't think we have a choice. We need his help. And besides," he says with a smirk, "the man is way too narcissistic. He doesn't want to die because half the world doesn't believe what's right in front of their faces."

"And we can use that to our advantage," Jazz adds. "He knows he'll need help with whatever scheme he's plotting, and there isn't enough time for him to be picky."

"So, what? We go to him for help, and threaten to walk if he tries to pull anything?" Sam raises an eyebrow.

"Exactly." Jazz and Danny grin at each other.

Tucker sighs and pulls out his PDA. "Alright, fine. One meeting with one seriously messed up frootloop coming right up."

Danny stares. "Dude, what are you doing?"

Tucker looks up. "Um, scheduling a meeting with our evil mayor?"

Sam shakes her head. "He's probably booked. We'll have better luck if we just show up."

Jazz nods. "He's probably expecting us anyways."

Tucker sighs and puts away his PDA. "Alright, fine. But can we take a moment to clean up? I don't know about you guys, but my face is crusty."

Danny looks at his friends and sister. Their hair is a mess, and their eyes are still rimmed red. Sam's mascara has dried after running down her face, and Tucker's glasses and Jazz's headband are askew. Danny figures he doesn't look much better.

He nods. "Alright. But after that, we have a meeting with one seriously messed up frootloop!"

[dreams-got-dimmer]

NEW GIRL (BolinxReader)

PART 1

Summary: multiple part fic?? + AU kind of (The reader is 18, Bolin is 18 and mako is 20) Reader desperately needs a place to live and finds an advertisement for two brothers who need a roommate. Maybe more than just living arrangements may come out of this deal... (reader x Bolin) (slow burn)

Warnings: abandonment??

Word count: 1600~

—————

Time was running out and I still didn’t have a place to stay. I can still hear my fathers voice telling me that no bender belongs in their family. I never asked to be born a bender, but it was a part of me. Something I couldn’t deny and my parents didn’t want to accept that. I had tried to keep my practicing a secret but my little sister let it slip that I was working on fire bending. I thought I would resent her for the slip up, but nothing in me could hate her for it, she meant no harm. Even still that slip up cost me my relationship with my family. There was no hesitation in throwing me out. We fought and screamed and eventually I lost my temper and my emotions boiled over. As tears spilled down my face I burned down our whole dining room area. That right there is what solidified me never being able to return to my family.

“You monster! Look at what you did! Get your things and leave, you’re not our daughter anymore,” my mother spat at me in disgust. I ran as fast as I could to gather my things and slipped out in the dead of night.

Since then I haven’t seen or heard from my family and it hurt so bad. Even if they didn’t accept who I was I just wanted to be loved and cherished by them and I would never get that. It was hard to go a day without a lump forming in my throat and my eyes welling up, but I had to be strong and determined for myself. Three weeks at the shelter had already been wasted and they only allotted a month for you to get back on your feet.

Most days were spent trying to find some sort of income, most jobs were just quick money, but I was closer and closer to finding steady income soon. If I wasn’t looking for a job I was trying to find a place to stay. Most, of not all were out of my price range. I ended up back at the shelter day after day discouraged and frustrated by my lack of luck. The staff at the shelter were getting increasingly annoyed by my outbursts of anger and flame and I’m sure they were happy that I was almost out of there. Granted I felt bad about being destructive but they always gave me a tight smile and assured me that things will get better.

And today was the day things got better. I almost squealed out of happiness seeing the paper plastered on a bulletin board at the pro-bending arena. I thought I wasn’t reading it right, but after a few moments I knew it was true.

The poster read,

“2 BROTHER IN NEED OF A ROOMMATE

•Three bedroom loft just above the pro-bending arena

•Great view of Air temple Island

•100 Yuans a month

If interested just knock on our door

- Mako and Bolin”

That’s all I needed. I ripped off the poster and made my way to the loft. I didn’t care who they were, just the fact that 100 yuans was totally doable. I had about 500 yuans saved up from the little jobs I had done here and there and the little bit I had saved from birthdays. I nearly sprinted my way to the loft and left myself breathless in front of the door. I was too excited to even feel nervous as I started knocking. Practically banging until the door swung up.

“Is it that necessary to bang?” Before me stood a very attractive. Like very attractive man. Tall and even a bit lanky. He towered over me. And while he seemed serious he didn’t seem too intimidating. Maybe it he was and I just couldn’t realize it because I was so determined at this opportunity.

“Yes. Definitely,” I rushed out quickly as I pushed past him. I took a look around and while it was simple, it was perfect. Roomy and open and a great view through big windows. The light flooring made the place seem so much bigger too. “Are you going to tell me who you are since you just barged in like you own the place?” I turned back towards the tall man and saw him narrow his eyes and his hands twitch. His eyes were like fire.

“Oh yeah sorry, I’m y/n and I’m most definitely going to own this place,” I nodded my head assuringly, more for myself then for him, “well not own, but at least pay rent,” I waved the poster a bit.

“Okay okay before you introduce yourself let me guess which brother you are,” I surveyed him and then looked at the poster with the names. Bolin didn’t really seem to fit so I went with the latter. “I’m gonna guess your Mako. I feel that it fits with your whole persona you got going on,” I smiled, but he just stood there wordlessly, “Oh wow I’m so sorry I know I must sound crazy and very upfront right now. I’ve just been desperately trying to find a place to stay. My parents kicked me out and I have no where else to go. I’ve been stuck at the shelter and my time is almost up and I saw this poster and I thought this was my lucky break. Now I’m just rambling...” I trailed off and was surprised at how honest I was.

“Mako! Who are you talking to down there?” My head whipped towards where the sound came from and saw a form jump down the stairs and landed loudly on our level. And once he straightened out I was faced with ANOTHER gorgeous man. What the hell have I gotten myself in to!? My breathing stopped as I got a good look at him. He was stocky and you could tell he had thick arms and legs without him even taking his clothes off. His broad build and wide stance lead me to believe he was an earth bender and his emerald green eyes were something to get lost in. I shook my head waving these thoughts away. These are potential roommates, not people to drool over.

“I’m y/n I’m trying to find a place to stay and I luckily found your poster. I hope no one has taken you guys up on the offer,” I smiled sheepishly. I fiddled with the poster looking down, “I promise I’ll be a great roommate, I can cook and clean and I’ll stay out of your way-“ I was trying to plead my case and ultimately got cut off

“You’re perfect!” Emerald eyes broke out into the cutest grin there could be “let’s get you moved in right away! Are you a bender? I’m an earth bender,” he flexed his arms subtly, “My brother and I are pro-benders and that’s how we get to live up here in the loft. Oh by the way I’m Bolin. We’ve had people try to be our roommate, but they’ve all been a bit... how do you say serial killer-esque,” he grimaced at the last sentence. He was so much more talkative and charismatic than Mako who I guess was the older brother. Had to be serious to contain this ball of energy.

“BOLIN! you can’t just let her move in we need to discuss this together. We barely know her!” Mako clenched his jaw.

“Well, what do you want to know?” I asked quietly looking back and forth between the two.

They both started firing questions at me. Bolin a bit more enthusiastically than Mako. His questions were also a bit more light hearted. Favorite color, food, what my hobbies were and easy things like that. Mako on the other hand was digging real deep asking questions that I wasn’t even sure I wanted to answer, but I knew they had to be said.

“What did you do to get kicked out?” Mako looked at me with an accusatory glare.

“I didn’t do anything!” My eyes welled up, “I got kicked out for being who I am! I’m a fire bender and no one else in my family has there bending ability. They are so against it. My whole life was a battle. I wished so bad they would love and cherish me even, but all they wanted to do was suppress who I am,” I started crying without shame and I knew the boys didn’t know what to do, “My sister let it slip that is have been practicing bending. I’ve gotten away with it for 10 years and it just now became known,” Bolin handed me a tissue with the utmost concern in his eyes. Even Mako looked a little sad, “Well, my family disowned me immediately and in the midst of our fight I lost control and burn our dining room to bits and that made them hate me even more. So, here I am a month later trying really desperately for two brothers to let me become their roommate,” I smiled weakly my face sticky with drying tears.

“Alright you can stay but I need the first two months rent right now. Please don’t make us regret this. I feel for you and your hardships, but if you do anything to fuck over what we have I won’t hesitate to throw you out,” Mako looked at me sternly and Bolin was almost jumping with excitement.

“REALLY!??” I practically screeched. I rummaged through my bag and threw the money at Mako all while pulling him into a bone-crushing hug. I moved to Bolin and did the same thing.

“You guys won’t regret this I promise!”

[ichikaakiyama]

FIC: Untimely Distractions (Hawks x Female Reader; smut)

DISCLAIMERS: Usual ownership disclaimers apply. Characters that are underaged/minors in canon are automatically aged-up to young adult/adult in my work by default unless otherwise stated.

TITLE: Untimely Distractions

PAIRING: Hawks/Female Reader

RATING: Hard R/Mature

WARNINGS: Smut

- - - - -

Hawks is an incorrigible, distracting flirt. This isn’t an opinion - it’s just the truth.

The bad thing about it is that he knows it. The worst thing about it is when the charismatic bastard turns all that charm and beguiling energy on and aims it right at you for everyone in the Hero Public Safety Commission office to see. Like now, for example.

“Come on, it’s just drinks,” he says, hovering over the side of your desk with his hands planted on the tabletop, holding his weight, “I don't even drink that much, but i could take you to this ONE place, holy crap, they make this INSANE tropical sunrise cocktail. Also there's a cute bartender there who seems into some things.” The intentionally comical waggle of his bushy eyebrows elicits a tiny giggle from you that you’re unable to reign in in time.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on patrol tonight?” you shoot back, continuing to work to try and convince him of disinterest on your part, “Or on some secret spying mission that no one else in this building is supposed to know about?”

“Well, I mean…” Hawks replies with a tiny shrug, “I’m sure I can find some time to--Wait, what do you know about my assignments?”

You can’t help but snort at his near carelessness. “Absolutely nothing, I’m sure,” you answer, feeding fresh sheets into your printer, “In any case, I’m busy tonight, as will you be. Besides,” you drop your voice a little, as if there isn’t a soul alive within hearing range who already knows that Hawks seems to like you a lot, “we’re supposed to be professionals.”

“When have you ever known me to be 100% professional at any given time?” he half-jokes, leaning in just as you sit back down. He laughs as you push him away. “Okay, fine. If not drinks, then lunch. Just a quick one. There’s an excellent yakitori place about five minutes from here, we can have a little spot all to ourselves, no extras and no distractions…”

You bat away a feather he had sent to tickle your cheek. “You’re a distraction, Hawks.”

“Yeah, but you like it,” he retorts, and you can hear the smirk in his tone.

“You think so, do you?” you gently scoff as he leans in over the table and closer to you.

“You like me,” Hawks points out, his voice and tone hitting just the right lower octave to get you to finally look right at him, blushing indignantly.

You can feel how fiercely your cheeks are coloring. “I-” you stammer, “That’s not...I mean, I don’t--”

Hawks straightens up again, an almost insufferable grin of victory brightening his face. “I’ll pick you up at 11:50am,” he tells you, “Don’t work too hard now, baby bird.” The pet name and the wink he leaves with has you coughing on a slight choke of embarrassment. 

The rest of your day is spent ducking your head, keeping busy and trying to pretend that no one else around you had heard your conversation with Hawks. You become so entranced in your own efforts to hide yourself from sneaky side-eyes and barely quieted giggles from your co-workers that you don’t realize what time it is until a gentle tapping on your cubicle wall lets you know it’s time for your lunch date.

You look up to see him leaning against one edge of the wall, arms crossed in front of him, a signature smirk plastered all over his smug face. “Hawks, I am busy,” you say with an audible tsk to drive home your point.

“Psh, no one’s ever too busy for yakitori,” Hawks points out.

“I mean, true,” you concede with a little sigh, “But-”

“Come oooon,” he whines, “What’s an hour? If you get crunched because I took you out on a lunch date, I promise to help you out so you don’t have to do overtime, then I’ll take you home myself so you get there faster. Deal?”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “How the hell do you even know where I live?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Hawks mutters with a small shrug, “Come ooooooon, kid. Yakitoriiiiiiiii.”

And he's just so annoyingly effing cute, doing stupid things with his bushy eyebrows and little wiggles of his hips, and he looks RIDICULOUS. You know he’s not going to take no for an answer.

“Fine,” you finally agree, “but just one hour. Then you come back and help me sort all of this out.”

“I promise,” Hawks replies, crossing his heart with a finger while holding his right hand up for emphasis.

To Hawks’ credit, the yakitori place is just as close as he had said, and the food is ridiculously good. Time flies nearly as fast as he does as you enjoy an almost uncharacteristically casual conversation about each other’s nothings - how work is, how your family is doing, when was the last time you made pastries and why didn’t you save him some. The food is gone before you even really realize it, and he doesn’t even let you pull your wallet out to pay. With a grin and a wink, for you and the waitress, he pays for everything, then offers you a hand to take to help you out of your seat and walk you back to the office. You blush a little, but you take it, and his smirk is noticeably softer when you do.

You don’t get too far, however, when he pulls you in close, winks and gives you a quick warning of “hang on, kid,” before his wings suddenly flare out and flap. Suddenly you're in the air, and he's got you safe and secure in the few seconds it takes him to fly you up to the roof of a nearby apartment building.

It doesn’t take you much longer to remember that the cheeky bastard lives here, of course he lives near the HSPC, and he, most likely, has had this planned the entire time.

“Jerk,” you snort, although you’re not exactly fighting the arm he has around your waist, keeping you flush against him.

“What?” he laughs, “I still have twenty minutes, don’t I?”

And he kisses you hard as he drags you into his room from the balcony, fingers working hurriedly to divest you of your bottoms.

“Fifteen,” you correct him, a little out of breath already from the kiss alone, "I'm not going back to the office looking like i just got rammed by a truck.”

"Well, better make it count then," he chuckles, and then you're on your back on his bed, and he's pulling you by the legs to the edge so he can pull your bottoms off and push your top up.

He wastes no time, diving right in, mouth eager and hungry, like a dying man savoring the first full meal he's had in years. Your legs are over his shoulders, one hand sliding up your body to squeeze at your breast while the other snakes around your thigh to rub at your clit like he's trying to start a fire with his thumb. He's a ravenous son of a bitch, moaning loud enough for you to feel, stopping every now and then just long enough to tell you how good you taste. He tells you to watch him devour you, but it's hard when his tongue feels that good and his fingers are experts of your body by now.

"You gonna come, babe?" he teases, rising from his knees to bend over you, and you're about to whine at the loss of contact when he cuts you off with a couple of fingers deep inside you, twisting and curling and stroking and spreading. 

“If you're gonna come you better do it soon,” he teases with a laugh, “You don't want the office to know you got eaten out for lunch, do you?” And his hand is merciless with quick, deep thrusts that aim right where they need to, and you're crying out, launching a fist weakly into his shoulder, which just makes him chuckle.

He urges you to come, telling you he wants to feel you come with his fingers deep inside you, promising to lick you clean afterwards if you'll be good for him and come right fucking now.

Your back arches halfway up off the bed when you do, clutching at your own breast with one hand and digging nails into his shoulder and neck with the other, and he peppers you with little kisses, the softness of each a sharp contract to to how roughly he pushes his fingers into you as he tries to draw your orgasm out a little longer.

“You're so good for me,” he coos, kissing your lips gently as you come down from your high, “So fucking pretty, baby bird.” And you can't help but grab at his jacket and pull him in close and kiss him for real. You hate him, but you love him, but you hate him, but you love him, and he knows.

“Fuck you,” you say when you come up for air, and he just laughs a full laugh, the smug bastard, kissing you again before pulling you to your feet. 

“You liked it.” 

“Shut up.” 

“You like me.”

“I love you.” 

“...But?” 

“But you're a smug dick and sometimes i don't know whether to punch you with my mouth or my fist.” 

“You're so cute when you're ticked off.”

He helps you back into your clothes, making sure to give you tiny kisses where he can, and he's always like this, always so showy with his flirting but secretive with his real affection. You kind of understand it, but not really. You've never questioned it, just accepted it as part of who he is. But you can't help but wonder about it sometimes. Not that you’d ever bring it up; you’re more likely to get hit by lightning than ever get a straight answer for that out of him.

He flies you both back to the office just in the nick of time, and you just barely managed to put yourself back together while he, of course, didn't have to do much more than straighten his clothes a bit and give his hair a little shake. You can feel eyes on you as he walks you back to your office, and although you're a little self-conscious about it, it’s times like these that you kind of can't help but be a bit smug at the fact that everyone just knows that Hawks is into you without anyone ever having to say it out loud.

Before he lets you go, he pulls you into an abandoned, unvisited corner and kisses you again, and it's a real boyfriend kiss, with small sighs and gentle touches and warmth. You can't help but love that you get to see this side of him, knowing that very few people have or will.

“Dinner?” he asks, and the only thing softer than his tone is the hand he has on your cheek.

“You're not working late?” you ask, unconscious of the way you snuggle into the warmth of his palm. 

“Not if you say yes to dinner,” he replies, the tiniest of smirks ghosting in the corner of his mouth.

“You think you're soooo cute, don't you?”

“Yes. Yes I do.” 

“...Fine. Dinner.”

 - - - - -

~ END. ~

[jstlikemagic]

One Night Chance. - Jeff Wittek Imagine

Title: One Night Chance.

Pairings: Jeff Wittek/Reader

Rating: R (For swears tho)

Summary: Being friends with benefits has always been fun but what about when two makes three? Also, what are the chances Y/N goes into labor at Jeff’s stand-up show?

TW: Drugs and alcohol (both lightly mentioned)

A/N: Hi y’all! Ya girl is BACK AGAIN!!! This time I have a “pre-sober” Jeff imagine! I decided to write this because I really wanted to write something pregnancy-related, a little bit of a comedy, and also something serious. If you liked this, please reblog/like! Thank you!

MY MASTERLIST

Taking a good look around Jeff’s dressing room, you started having flashbacks about what life was like eight months ago. The patron that was spilt on the carpet, reminded you of all times you and the guys would get fucked up at David’s house parties. The keef residue that was left on the table, reminded you of when you’d just be chilling in the living room with a bong in your hand, thinking life couldn’t get any better. You were so happy with your lifestyle and how much fun you’d been having. Soon enough though, life took a turn.

-Eight Months Ago-

The past few weeks had been rough. You were so tired that you almost fell asleep in the car a few times. You were so hungry, that Postmates was your new best friend. The toilet was your new home since you’d been puking and pissing a lot recently. Feeling uneasy one day and puking up a delicious breakfast burrito, you had that feeling.

Forcing yourself up from the bathroom floor, you grabbed your car keys and busted out of your apartment. Jumping into your car, you floored it to the nearest convenience store. After you parked your car, you speed walked into the store due to your heightened anxiety. As you walked down the aisles, you finally spotted the women’s health aisle. Pregnancy tests. Pregnancy tests. Where would those be. A lightbulb shot up in your head once you spotted the array of pee sticks. Shaky hands reached for the Clear Blue pregnancy tests, grabbing eight “just in case.” Going up to the counter, you hurriedly placed the tests on the counter. “Aw, sweetie. I see the anticipation. Have you been trying?” said the counter employee.

“Yes, I’m very much anticipating a little shit that’s gonna run my money dry and ruin my life,” you sarcastically said. With the employee looking shocked as hell and you already handing the cash over, you decided it was best to just leave as fast as possible. Taking the bag, you gave one of those bitchy smiles and said “have a nice day.” Fucking bitch.

Flooring it home, you nearly sprinted into your bathroom. Making sure you could provide for eight samples, you drank at least three bottles of water. After providing for each sample, you left each test on the sink counter. 

You weren’t going to cry but god damn, what if you were actually pregnant… with Jeff’s baby. The two of you were only friends, who fooled around occasionally. Backtracking to how possible it could be, you started freaking yourself out even more. Jeff had been fucking you for at least three months straight so that’d be very possible. Plus, you both relied on the “reliable” pull out method.

Creeping back into the bathroom seven out of the eight tests looked like they were done. With both ends on the edge of the counter, your head slowly drooped down to look at the sticks. Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant. Not Pregnant, oh I like this one. Pregnant. Suddenly, you saw the last test blinking which meant it was about to read the result. Every last bit of you wanted it to say not pregnant but it didn’t even matter at this point. Still keeping hope alive, you lifted the stick up to your face. Pregnant. 

Well, the next obstacle was telling Jeff you were having his baby.

-One Week Later-

“Hey Y/N. What’s up?” His voice alone could make your heart flutter. Reconsidering if a phone call was how you wanted to do this, you erased the consideration out of your head and proceeded with the phone call. It was easier anyways, you wouldn’t be able to see the shock and disappointment on his face.

“So, I have some big news. I mean I guess not big news, small news as of now that will get bigger eventually,” you spoke really fast.

“Did ya get the job ya wanted? I know you’re only a secretary but you’ll work your way up and life will be great!” he exclaimed. 

Trying not to be salty because you didn’t get the job he was talking about, you laughed it off. “I, uh-, didn’t get the job. I actually have some other news that involves you. I’m pregnant and it’s very much yours,” you blurted It out. Without hearing his response, you felt a huge weight just fall off your shoulders. Hearing a sigh come from the other end of the phone, it was soon followed by empty moments of silence.

“Are ya sure? Like are you sure that you’re pregnant? And are ya sure that you want this? Y/N, we’re in our 20s. We’re living it up and living our best lives.”

“Jeff, I am 100% pregnant. I’ll mail you out all the sticks I pissed on. You can have all water bottles I used too.” Taking a moment to think of his last question, you started to feel hot tears roll down your cheek. “I think I want this. This could be my wakeup call to cut the shit. This is my endgame... Actually, of course I want this. I think what I want to know is, do you want this? I’ll do this with or without-“

“Yes, I want this. I want you. I want this baby. I just wanted to put the ball in your court because it is your body, your choice. The idea of having a baby right now is a little frightening but maybe I need this wakeup call too. Ya know we do stupid shit. I wanna have someone to wanna come home to. I wanna have someone pop in my head every time I see ten shots lined up for me and it makes me not want to do it. With that being said. I’m down if you’re down,” he interrupted. Feeling so overwhelmed by his support and letting you have this decision just made you burst into tears. 

-Eight Months Later-

Getting up to go the bathroom, which felt like the millionth time today, Jeff grabbed your hand to help lift you off that comfortable couch. “I got this,” you agitatedly said. Being almost nine months pregnant, you hated everything. You either puked or pissed yourself. The smell of certain food would throw you over the edge. Moving around got harder because your huge belly that got in the way. You also partially resented Jeff because he shot his sperm up inside of you. He was really good dealing with your mood swings though. He knew when to give you space and is very assuring about everything you do.

Walking into the bathroom, you lifted your dress up and pulled your underwear down so fast, just to make sure you didn’t piss your pants. Immediately sitting on the toilet, you could feel some pressure in your uterus from the sudden and fast movements. Placing one hand on your stomach, you said “I’m sorry, baby. Mommy’s just making sure she doesn’t spring a leak on this god-awful linoleum floor. But I just want to let you know, that you need to get the fuck out of me.” Your voice got louder every word in your last sentiment.

“Is everything okay in there?” Jeff hollered from the other side of the dressing room.

“Yes, and please shut the fuck up. I’m concentrating!” you screamed back while rolling your eyes. Sitting on the toilet, you suddenly felt a huge wave of liquid pass through you. Knowing you didn’t put any pressure like you were pissing, your first instinct was to get up and look in the toilet. You immediately wiped yourself and threw that in the toilet. Spotting a little bit of blood and few solid pieces which resembled skin, you knew it was time. The time. Feeling a wave of panic and anxiety, you flushed the toilet, washed your hands, and called Jeff over to the front of the bathroom door. With a smile on his face, he dutifully walked towards you.

“What’s up, baby? Is everything okay? Is the baby okay?” he started questioning you. He could tell from the look on your face that something was happening.

“Okay, so don’t panic. That’s my first rule okay,” you whispered, making sure no one else was going to hear the next thing. “I believe that I’m in labor but like not too sure. But I think I am.” Seeing Jeff’s eyes go wide, you immediately covered his mouth with your hand. “Don’t you fucking say anything. Help me get in the tour bus and figure this out.” Threatening him wasn’t a part of the plan and you had to do what was necessary so no one else in the room heightened the panic.

Jeff took your hand and led you through what felt like endless rooms to the cool outside. While passing by people, you painted a smile on your face. The last thing you wanted was for someone to tweet that you were in labor. This whole pregnancy, you had been scared if any information would leak. Such as if the hospital was leaked and people put two-and-two together, that fans would show up. Finally reaching the bus, he grabbed both of your hands and walked you up the bus. You went to sit down onto the couch but instantly felt a contraction. People weren’t kidding when they said contractions were a bitch. As the contraction passed through your body, you finally sat yourself down with him right next to you.

“Not to be an insensitive asshole but I also have a show in like thirty minutes but we’re also having a baby! I’m gonna look up online how to stop labor for a little bit, just to buy us time.” Never have you ever shot him such a nasty ass look. You didn’t give a flying fuck about his show, you had a baby who just received their eviction notice.

“No! You can’t just web it the fuck up and expect it to stop!” you screamed. Out of everything he could’ve said during this stressful time, he decided to say that. Feeling another contraction, you threw your head backed and moaned at the pain. Looking at Jeff, you both just knew you two were in for one hell of a night, maybe even days. If there’s one thing you two understood was that you agreed on this together and knew you two have to work together to get this baby out.

[r-r-raf]

I would love to hear everything about your dukeceit au - or just any idea you have at all pls I love them so much

:0!!!!!!!!! Oh fuck yeah okay okay so

Remus and Janus meet on Tumblr dot com, because of course they do. 

Remus’ blog is a bunch of cursed and unsettling shit and stuff like that. And he also writes on their a lot, his stories often portraying disturbing situations people would rather not think about and distorting cliches until they're near unrecognizable. He puts lots and lots of effort into his work, contrary to popular belief, and puts a lot of himself in them. 

Janus is an ✨artist✨ and his blog is vv nice, it's really organized, he has a tagging system in place, and all that jazz. (He reblogs a bunch of snake pictures and gushes about them in the tags akdjshsh not a relevant detail, but it's important).

So anyways, the two meet when they're both in high school. Janus is a big fan of Remus’ work, he reblogs all of his stuff and leaves nice stuff in the tags, and one day at the wonderful hour of 3am (or. it's that time for Remus anyways ajdhshs idk) he decides to shoot him a message saying he really admired his writing. 

And Remus, who is awake for night terror reasons, sees the message and goes !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Because what the fuck?? Someone likes his writing???? Someone is praising him for his writing?????????????

So yeah, Remus is v not used to receiving compliments akdjshdh. 

And he voices the surprise before he could even think about it, and Janus is just like bro your writing is literally amazing??????????? I could go on and on about it for hours????

And Remus is like. Well I wouldn't stop you if you did, not thinking Janus would actually do it, but then Janus actually sends him a few lengthy paragraphs pointing out metaphors and word choice and foreshadowing. And then he ends it with “and that's all I can think of off the top of my head” and Remus is absolutely floored by the implications behind that message. 

So Remus wasn't like yes I like this person almost immediately and continues to message him after that. It takes him a few days to realize that he hadn't asked for a nickname. Or pronouns. And he was at a point where it would be weird to ask so he calls him Eden, after his url slithering-into-eden (not a big detail but it's important god dammit).

And then one day Remus goes into Janus’ blog where he gains that information, and he's like oh duh i should've just checked his blog sooner. But anyways, he scrolls and oh my fucking god. This dude is so fucking talented?? What the fuck?? Someone with talent was following him?? And talking to him??

So yeah he scrolled for a long time when he came across a picture of him, and Remus was like. WHAT THE F U C K A PRETTY TALENTED BOY IS FOLLOWING AND TALKING TO ME??????

And he has a small gay panic right then and there because holy shit this guy has seen me reblog some stupid ass shit oh no. 

And anyways, they keep talking and eventually they fall ✨in love✨ and start dating. 

The distance wasn’s generally a challenge, it's the only thing they've ever known and neither of them were afraid of the other being unfaithful. And with how much they spoke it felt like they were always actively a part of each other’s lives. But it did get really rough sometimes because well. They wanted to be there for each other. Because on some nights Remus would just call Janus after a vv bad night terror, and he's crying and panicking, and the only thing Janus could do is talk to him when what he wants to do is hug him and hold him close and assure him that it's safe. 

But he can't and that stings. 

After a while the topic of meeting up did come up, and Janus insisted he go to Remus because there is no way in hell he was making Remus waste money on a plane ticket just to get to his shitty apartment, no sir, he was a gentleman. 

So Janus started his “go visit Remus fund”  where he deposited as much money as he could from his job and basically any and all commission money he got. 

And then. He buys a plane ticket. And Remus freaking squeals so loud because HEA FINALLY GOING TO SEE HIS BOYFRIEND!!! And he's so damn excited and so is Janus and absolutely zero happy tears were shed thank you very much. 

But despite the excitement it doesn't really hit until the day Janus arrives. 

Remus is just. So nervous. Because this was the first time he was going to see Janus right in front of him for real, not on a computer screen in shitty quality. And oh fuck he wasn't ready, he was gonna fuck this up, he was gonna do something wrong and ruin Janus’ trip and—

And then he saw Janus and Janus saw him and time seemed to stop as they both just freeze because did he just get prettier what the f u c k. 

Remus is like sprinting full speed at him before he even knows it, and Janus puts down his bags and opens his arms, and Remus nearly tackles him to ground. They both hug each other tightly, and just being like “I can't believe you're actually here,” and NO there was absolutely 100% no crying in each others arms. 

When they pull back from the hug they make sure to hold each other's hand as they walk out of the airport, just cherishing the touch while it lasts. And that's how it is during Janus’ entire stay. They stay close together, and hold each other in any ways possible, and. And they have their first kiss. And it's magical. 

Janus does eventually leave, and they're both really sad because now that they've experienced benign so close how could they go back to being satisfied with video calls????? But they're both hopeful for the future, and know that's one day the distance between them would be gone and they'd be able to hold and kiss and see each other as much as they want.

[talesmaniac89]

Choices - Dean Ending - 2

New to Choices? Start Here

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: Choices is an interactive Supernatural choose your own adventure story where your choices determine the outcome and whether it’s a Dean x Reader or Sam x Reader. Go to the intro to start your story now!

Triggers: Serious injury, hospitalization, pain, violence, blood, angst (with a happy ending), serious injuries, heartbreak, gore (series levels blood, hurt and serious near-fatal injuries).

Choice: [You chose to rush Dean to the car]

Y/N = Your Name 

---

You had no time to waste. You had to get Dean to the nearest hospital.

“SAM! Bring the car around. Hurry!” Your voice nearly broke over the heart-breaking words as you forced them out. Letting the pain and panic force the younger hunter outside into action. Sam was your best friend, he’d understand. Just from the way your voice broke alone. 

Turning your attention back to Dean, your eyes met his slightly dull green ones. You had to get him up. Even if it hurt him, even if the pain would be damned near impossible to deal with. Outside and into the car you knew, with 100% certainty, that Sam was rushing to as your shaking hands moved from the wound at Dean’s side to help the hunter sit up. 

You were careful not to focus too closely on the harsh red that covered your hands and threatened to send you barrelling back into uncontrolled panic as you shifted by his side. There was just so much fucking blood. You didn’t have time to panic. You had to get him up. Had to get him help.

“I know it hurts Dean… But we have to get you up,” Your words were more a sobbed prayer to the hunter than an actual push to action, as he choked on a pained moan when you gently lifted him into a seated position. 

“(Y/N)…” Dean’s gasps for air cut off his words, barely getting your name out before his jaw clenched around another shot of pain.

“We need to get you help. You can do this,” You tried to keep your voice pliable. To soothe some of the hunter’s hurt with soft words as you scrambled to your feet and gently helped Dean up. One arm around his waist as the other put his shaking arm over your shoulders, holding onto his wrist. 

“Just a few steps… Please,”

You tried taking the first of several painfully slow steps towards the door, but as soon as he started moving, Dean’s legs buckled under him. Nearly taking you with him as you reached a bloodied hand out and steadied the two of you against the wall. Painting the faded paisley print a violent red. 

“We got this Dean… You got this,” You gritted your teeth as you half carried him towards the door. He’d be fine…. He was Dean freaking Winchester. You were there. He was a mess, but you’d get him patched up. You swore you would. 

“Don’t…. Cry (Y/N),” Dean could barely get the words out. Every sentence turned into a mix of mumbled comfort, curses, groans and raspy breaths. You hadn’t even noticed you were gasping for breath as the violent sobs wrecked your body, until your strong stubborn soldier pointed it out. You were too focused on the light of the door. Too busy listening for the roar of the Impala. 

Yet Dean had noticed. Dean always noticed. Always trying to catch every single one of your tears. Unwilling to share any of the hurt, any of the scars. Though that same sacrificial need to do good, to be the world’s battering ram, was currently slowly killing him. 

He shouldn’t be worrying about your tears. Tears would slow, they’d dry away leaving no traces of the painful verses they were inscribing on dusty cheeks. But Dean’s injury… God. You could feel the steady flow of life leaving him from where your arm rested around his waist, careful not to aggravate the gash in his side. 

“Shhh… Dean, save your strength. I’m fine… You’ll be fine,” Your words were more of a frantic plea as you finally got him into the light. Stumbling a bit under his weight now that you no longer had the wall to aid you. 

You squinted against the light as you gently helped Dean take the two steps down onto the gravel. Relieved to see the ebony car racing towards you with Sam behind the wheel. 

“Sammy’s here. Just… Stay strong for me soldier,”

—

“This is gonna hurt. I’m… Shit. I’m so sorry Dean, but this is gonna hurt like a son of a bitch,” You gritted your teeth as you shifted your hold on Dean. Your hand reached out as soon as the Impala came to a complete stop in front of you. Flinging the backdoor open and carefully manoeuvring Dean onto the leather seats of his Baby. 

“It’s…” Dean couldn’t get the words out as the pain shot through him. Leaving the man to bite his lip and squeeze his eyes shut. Swallowing down the groans of agony with a deep grunt as they lodged painfully in his chest. 

“You’re doing good… You’ll be fine. We got you,” 

Hurrying around the car, you slid into the Impala and gently lifted his head into your lap. Your eyes shooting to Sam as he’d turned himself fully in the driver seat. Shock, worry and anguish staining hazel eyes as his eyes followed the blood from your arms down to the jagged cut in his big brother’s side. 

“The Demon he… Dean got… We need to get him to the hospital Sammy,” It physically hurt you to force the younger Winchester into action. Knowing you were leaving him no time to process his brother’s injuries. But you were running out of time. Dean would be fine. He’d got you and Sam. You’d always have his back; you’d always pull him out of trouble. 

But right now, you needed to move. And move fast.

“Yeah…. Ok… Hold on Dean. Alright? Don’t you go leaving us now,” Sam’s voice was trembling and wet with unshed tears as he pushed the Impala back into drive. The engine roaring to life just as your free hand found the bag you’d dropped on the floor mere hours earlier. Rooting around in it as you kept your other hand pushing down on his side, you pulled out the shirt you’d stolen from Dean.

You needed to stem the blood flow. Buy him some time. And your small trembling hand just wasn’t fucking big enough. His life was already soaking into the leather seats as your weak attempt of putting pressure on the wound failed against the fucking final full stop that was threatening to steal him away from you. Folding the shirt over, you pushed it against the wound, gritting your teeth and squeezing your eyes shut as Dean hissed in pain from your lap. 

Your eyes left the awful reality of what the flannel was covering as you focused on his paling face again. Only to be met with closed eyes and shaky breaths. No. He couldn’t go to sleep. He had to fight this. He had to be your strong, always reliable Dean Winchester. At least until you could get him to town… Get him fixed up.

“Don’t you dare go to sleep on me, Dean. Keep those big greens on me ‘kay?” You could hear the rising panic in your faint voice over the roar of the engine as Sam drove like a bat out of hell. Taking every twist and turn on the small farm road dangerously fast in his rush to save his brother.

For a split second, it was like the whole damned world stopped existing. Your breath lodged somewhere just behind your breaking heart as you watched for a sign that he could hear you. But just as fast as your world had stopped turning, it came rushing back again at the flash of red rimmed green behind half closed eyelids. 

“Hey… (Y/N), just in case this is…” 

You shook your head violently, careful to keep the rest of your body still to not jostle him more than the bumpy farm road already was doing. Unwilling to listen to any one of his goodbyes, or apologies for checking out early. You would get him through this. You would save him. Even if you’d failed to have his back. Even if it’d cost you your damn soul down the line.

“Don’t you dare say one fucking word more Winchester. You’ll be fine, you have to be fine. Just focus on breathing and getting better for now. You can finish whatever bullshit you’re trying to spout once we’re back in the bunker with a beer in our hands,” 

“I…” A large bump in the road cut Dean’s second attempt at a preemptive goodbye off, turning the end of his sentence into a gasp of pain that died as a whine in his throat. 

“Please Dean… You can’t leave me. I won’t let you. Just… Shut up and focus on me. We’ll get through this. We’ve been through worse, right?” Focusing on putting pressure on the wound, you let your eyes lock with his. Counting the seconds and minutes whenever he as much as blinked as your hand switched between the flannel and wiping away the pained tears from his eyes. Your eyes barely even registered how the clear stretch of highway had replaced the small farm road as you kept your full attention on the man in front of you.

You’d make it… You had to. 

—

Dean’s breathing was weakening as the Impala tore into the Hospital grounds and came to a full stop right outside the doors to the ER.

He’d kept fighting, he’d been strong for you. Just as he always was. His green eyes were dull with pain and wet with unshed tears as they kept looking up at you. Pale lips moving, though no words came out, with unspoken truths and goodbyes you’d be damned sure to prove wrong. 

Sam had been out of the car before it even fully stopped. Rushing in to get help as you kept cradling Dean’s head in your lap. Pleading whispers soaking the air between you as you begged the soldier to keep fighting. 

You were so lost in him, in the need to keep him safe, that you nearly lashed out at the big hand that landed on your back. Stopping just short of hitting Sam as he gently pulled you out of the car and out of the way of the men and women that were going to save Dean’s life. They had to save him. 

“Please… He has to be fine. I swear to God if you don’t…” You knew you were screaming at the wrong people. These doctors and nurses were not the villains. But your anger and pain had nowhere else to go. You needed someone else to take responsibility, now that the actual culprit was just a pile of flesh and bones, left behind in the nightmarish farmhouse. 

Sam pulled you against him, burying your face into his chest and muffling your empty threats to keep you from actually shaking the doctor that was currently trying to save the man you loved. You’d pushed down your panic and anguish to help Dean. But now that you could fully let yourself feel it; the pain was unbearable. You wanted to scream, to punch something, break something, to hurt someone as much as you were hurting. But instead you just sobbed, holding onto your best friend as he pulled you along into the hospital after the rushing nurses and doctors trying to save Dean’s life. 

Your feet followed Dean’s still and pale body through the doors of the hospital. Your broken, greedy little heart, too pained and still too horribly selfish to let him out of your sight as you broke free from Sam’s arm the moment the big guy stopped to sign Dean in. Desperate to follow Dean all the way to the damned operating room. To have his back, to watch over him as the doctors did all they could to save him where you couldn’t.

Yet, as you reached the first door, a kind, but stern nurse stepped in front of you. Hand out, flat palm facing you as she told you to stop. To wait. The same way Dean had told you to wait for his signal just hours earlier. 

“I can’t… I need to be there with him,” You could hear your own words echo back at you. All feral anger and red-hot desperation. 

Still, even as the hard anger made the nurse flinch and step back, you stood frozen as your heart followed Dean through the door, clinging to his cold limp fingers. Unable to move from the spot and show the same blatant disregard for orders that you’d shown only hours earlier as your legs buckled under you. Hitting the ground just a second before Sam could make it to your side. Leaving you kneeling on the cold, hard floor, as if you were praying to the nurse. To anyone. 

A whispered plea in the sterilised hallway of the hospital. To do what you’d been unable to.

“Please… Save him,” 

—

It felt as if an eternity had passed before the door opened and a tired doctor stepped through it and over to where Sam was letting you lean against his big shoulder. Every second another lifetime as you relived the panicked moments of getting Dean to the hospital. Seeing the life slip out of him, his paling features and dull green eyes in your violently coloured trembling palms. An endless reel of agony; projected in angry shades of red on your skin.

Yet, as the doctor stopped in front of you, you felt as if time couldn’t go slow enough. Terrified that his next words would tear at the rest of your sanity. They had to save Dean. He couldn’t be lost to you. Lying still and cold somewhere on a hospital bed. You wouldn’t be able to go on if he was gone.

Sam’s arm had tightened around your shoulder. The big guy, your best friend, taking the lead as you just watched your still bloodied hands numbly. Unable to look up to determine if there was defeat or promises hiding in the elderly doctor’s eyes. 

“Is he…”

“Yes, your brother will make a full recovery,” 

As the doctor’s voice reached you, you finally managed to look up. Finding nothing but kind truth in the man’s eyes as he looked down at you. Around you, the sounds of the hospital came into focus again, colours blending with light as you watched the doctor spout a lot of big words you couldn’t be bothered to try and understand.

Dean was fine.  

As the doctor talked to Sam you just watched him. Feeling the soft heat of relieved tears against your skin as you waited. Waited for the only words that mattered now that your heart had started beating again somewhere down the labyrinthian hallways of the hospital. 

Licking at chapped lips, you found your voice somewhere among the red raw pain in your throat as you decided to hurry things along. No longer willing to deal with the sedated seconds. Needing to re-join your heart. Needing to be right by Dean’s side, where you belonged. Watching his back as you waited for him to wake up again.

“Can I… Can we see him?”

—

You’d been by Dean’s side for the last few hours. Though your tired soldier was taking his time waking up as you held his hand. But the doctors had promised you he was fine. And you had to believe them. Sam had cleaned himself up in the bathroom, and had forced you to do the same after you’d nearly scared one of the nurses to death with your bloodied appearance. The harsh red coupled with your pale face had left the poor woman thinking she’d walked straight into a ghost.

But past those painfully long minutes, you hadn’t left his side. Your forehead leaning against his fingers and whispering soft prayers into still fingertips, as if you could will them to move with your lips alone. Sam had left a few times, to deal with the reality of the hospital stay. Making up stories and choosing identities to keep the cops at bay where you were too lost in Dean to act or discern reality from daydreams and weak hopes.

Hell, it’d only been a few hours. But you’d already imagined Dean’s hand squeezing yours back more times than you cared to count. Your tired mind playing constant tricks on you. Like sensory daydreams, feeding on your need for him to wake up.

So, when the next squeeze came, you looked up at Sam instead of Dean. Afraid that if you let yourself look at the sleeping hunter, if you let yourself hope he was waking up, you’d just be dragged back into reality by lidded eyes. Yet, as Sam’s tired eyes brightened in a soft smile, you finally let yourself breathe a sigh in relief. He was awake.

Your Dean Winchester was finally back with you.

“Heeeey… (Y/N),” Dean’s voice was a mumbled slur as your eyes turned to meet his hazy unfocused ones. His hand gave yours another weak squeeze as his small half-smile brought colour back into your world.

“Hi there cowboy,” You gave him a small shaky smile back as your words ended in a breathless, relieved laugh. 

“I’m feelin’ all fuzzy. Like all the corners are soft,” Den mumbled, his words coming out slow as he lifted his hand, still holding onto yours. As if the connected hands somehow helped prove his point. The hunter was clearly still high on whatever pain meds they’d pumped him full of during the emergency surgery. Though the doctor had told you it should wear off in a few minutes after he woke up.

“You’re on the good stuff Winchester,” You chuckled, glancing up at Sam to share a short teary laugh at the oldest Winchester brother’s behalf. Relief flooded the air in the room and made it sweeter as you finally managed to breathe properly again. Across from you, your best friend jumped to his feet to find the doctors, leaving you with a slightly high Dean. Sam’s soft smile mirroring your own. You had your soldier back, and he’d be fine.

“Awesome… This is really good stuff. You look so… Bright ‘n pretty,” The soft mumbles that left the hunter chased away the last remnants of pain and shadows as you squeezed his hand and smiled back at his beaming grin. Soothing your heart and soul the way only he could. 

“And… Where am I?” Dean’s words were slowly becoming less slurred as the words left him. The hunter cutting off his own rant about softness as the rest of the world came back into focus around him, sharpening the earlier soft roundness into the cutting edges of reality. The few minutes of soft, hazy bliss were up, leaving the hunter confused, yet still slightly bleary-eyed.

As the worst of his hazy medicated bliss faded, blurry green eyes finally properly focused on you. Any signs of the faded dull light from the rushed race against time in the Impala fully lost to the bright forest in his eyes. Like the last of the early morning dew lifting to make way for another beautifully bright day. 

“You’re in the hospital Dean. You were hurt… Bad. But you’re fine now,” You could hear your own voice break over the words as they brought back pained memories of the close call. Squeezing his hand again you let your free hand brush against his matted sand blonde strands, moving them out of his eyes as his eyes left the room to look back at you. 

“Yeah I… Whoa, whoa! Please don’t cry (Y/N),” 

You hadn’t even noticed the relieved tears streaming down your cheeks until Dean’s hand disentangled itself from yours to wipe at one of your many tears. His green eyes worried as fingertips carefully collected every relieved tear. Not even letting them soak into your skin before he stole the burden of worry from you, to once more place the weight of every single salted drop of anguish on his own shoulders.

“What were you thinking? You could’ve died,” Pulling your head away from his hand you let your tears run freely. The touch of his fingertips, and the familiar worried tinge to his voice, bringing back your earlier desperate anguish in the shape of angry protective worry. 

Curling your hands into the bedsheets, you managed to keep the worst of it under control. Careful to not raise your voice in fear of getting kicked out of the hospital room if you did. You couldn’t bear to leave Dean’s side. Not now. Not when you’d finally gotten him back. 

“I’m sorry (Y/N), but when I saw that son of a bitch rush at you… When I thought of you getting hurt, my body just reacted,” Dean’s hand fell limply to his side, eyes shining in pain at your rejection of his touch. It stung, to see him saddened and hurting. But your worry outweighed it. By a damned metric fuckton. 

“I just couldn’t stand the thought of losing you,” He added weakly as he watched you angrily wipe away your tears. Your shoulders shaking as you tried to hold back every worried word you wanted to yell at the stupid self-sacrificing soldier in the hospital bed. Damn it, you loved him, but he could be such a stubborn fool. 

“You don’t always have to be a damned shield Dean!” Catching your raised volume, you clenched your jaw to stop from shouting. Aware of the possible eyes on you from the hospital hallway.

“I don’t want to lose you either. I wouldn’t have been able to go on if…” Shivering, you stopped yourself before your own words had the chance to wind you. Knowing that any mentions of him hurt, dying, would just bring back fresh stabs of pain. Even though you knew he was fine. That you could reach out and touch him. 

It was all just too fresh in your mind… Time still had to dull the colours and soften the edges before you could deal with the new scars the close call had carved into your heart.

“Neither would I (Y/N)… I need you to be alive ok? Damn it… You’re one of the last good things in my world,” His low voice shook, barely contained hurt, worry and anger mixing as he watched you. Rough and raw as it broke over the many imagined futures playing out behind green eyes.

“If you died then there’d be no more Dean Winchester. They might as well just toss me on the pyre with you,”

As Dean lifted a hesitant hand again, you stayed still. Not pushing away the soft fingertips that gently traced the shape of your jaw as the hunter whispered the words into the cool air between you. The gentle way he touched you yet another testament to how carefully he treated you. As if you were fractured glass. So utterly breakable that even his fingers could see you shattering into a million little pieces across the hospital floor. 

“You can’t…” Your voice was weak, barely even there, as you let the desperately pained pleading in your eyes convey your words instead. Words you couldn’t make yourself speak, in fear of it being some type of fucking spell that would violently pull Dean away from you. Just out of the reach of your trembling fingers.

Instead you just focused on his fingertips. Your skin buzzing under his touch as soft fingers moved from tracing your jaw to slide down your throat following your collarbone to your shoulder and finally ending as a warm comforting pressure against the back of your neck. His palm gently pushed you closer to him, eyes still locked with yours, as the many words left unspoken echoed in your head. 

You can’t die. Or get hurt. You can’t leave me. Please don’t…

Raising his head up to meet you halfway, Dean gently pulled you closer. Green eyes finding yours just before slowly closing just as his soft lips against yours cut off the endless string of pleas in your mind. Stopping the echoes of pain in your head with an achingly gentle kiss against your trembling lips. Dean barely even brushed against them, before he leaned back to look at you. Hesitant, timid green eyes watching at you, gauging your reaction.

“As I was trying to tell you in the car before you shut me up… I love you (Y/N). I need you to be safe. So, if I have to act like a shield, or distraction, or damned demonic punching bag, I will. Because if they hurt you or worse then, hell… I’m a goner,” 

Looking from the hunter’s green eyes and down to his lips you held yourself back from just kissing him, drowning in him. You’d been so close to losing him without being able to tell him how you felt. Never again. Screw all the promises you’d made to yourself, the endless nights spent painting your bedroom in unshared words of love. You had to let him know. Not just with your lips on his, but with words as well as actions. 

“If you don’t want me to be hurt. Then promise me you won’t do anything like that ever again. ‘Cause I need you Dean. I love you, and I need you here. With me,” 

Letting your forehead touch his, you kept your voice low and soft as you spoke words you’d once upon a time promised yourself you’d never speak. Your lips nearly brushed against his as you returned the tireless soldier’s confession with your own.

“Really?”

As Dean’s eyes widened in awed wonder, you noticed the little specks of gold in them for the first time from your closer, more intimate, vantage point. As if he’s captured rays of sunshine in his eyes. And for a moment, just the briefest beautiful second, those previously unknown shades took your breath away.

“Yes, you stupid, stubborn man. Really,” You chuckled once you finally found your voice again. Still marvelling in your newest discovery, another thing to add to the list of things you loved about him. A list that was sure to keep growing now that you’d made him aware of the heart you’d slipped into his hand oh so long ago, and he’d given you his own in return.

“Next time let me help you. Let’s work together. Not just shield each other. Deal?” You added, holding yourself back from finally fully feeling his lips on yours, like you’d dreamed about more times that you’d care to share.

“Deal,” Dean, your Dean, echoed, before using the hand that still rested against your neck to angle you into a kiss tasting faintly of golden drops of sunshine to seal his promise with an achingly gentle softness.

Dean Winchester was a lot of things. He was a soldier, a man, a brother, a friend, and a loving, kind man. And though you knew it wouldn’t be easy to turn him away from his overprotective need to shield you, you were determined to stand by his side. To see him through it all.

Shoulder by shoulder. Forever. 

 ---

You reached the end - You got Ending 2: Dean: Sweet Deals & Confessions - Happy Ending

[Click here to return to the start and try again]

[Alternatively, click here for the full masterlist breaking down each path] Note that choices are named so it may spoil the experience.

---

Please tell me which ending you got in a message, comment, ask or through a reblog. This took a lot of time to make, and I want to hear from you guys, and see if you enjoyed it. That way I’ll know if I should make more as well as know which parts you enjoyed/where I can improve them. 

I already have some ideas for some other ones; an undercover office based one that’s fluff vs. smut… Plus another hunt based one with TFW. But I won’t start them if it doesn’t seem like there’s any demand for them.

You can also tell me which ending you got by clicking here to answer my poll.

---

[lovingthereign25]

The Chase

Part 6

2015

You were having a rare day out with some of the girls. As much as you loved being a mommy and being home with Aaliyah you missed your friends too.

So you, Nikki, Trin,and Brie went out for lunch and a wine tasting.

“How's mom life treating you?” Brie asks

“ It's great. I love it, but i miss being in the ring” you say

“ So make a come back, Aaliyah is one now bring her along” Nikki smiles.

“So funny you said that, Stephanie asked me about that at the last pay per view” you say

“And..what did you say?” Trin asks

“I said i would talk to Roman about it see where it goes from there...but that's gonna have to wait” you say

“Why?, girl wrestling is your passion, you're one of not the best to do this.” Nikki says.

“Nikki, some people dont wanna raise a baby on the road” Brie rolls her eyes at her sister.

“ Well that and I'm pregnant” you smile

“What?!?” Trin says almost spitting her drink out.

“ Yeah, I'm almost 8 weeks” you say.

“Damn girl, you and Roman doing it like bunnies huh?” Nikki laughs.

“Let's just say his days off arent days off at all” you smirk

“ oooh, get it girl” Trin laughs

“She does apparently,” Brie laughs.

*Present Day*

Roman was sitting in his as he called it “Big Dog Den” watching ESPN the kids were fast asleep. You make you way over to where he was seating and slowly start rubbing his shoulders.

“Jesus, your hands are like magic” he says resting his head on the cushion behind him.

“So tense big daddy” you say

“Just stressed about the big match  coming up” he shrugs

“Well in that case you know what works better with stress than these magic hands?” You ask

“What's that?” He asks

“My mouth” you whisper, sending chills down Roman neck.

You walk around the small couch so you are now standing in front of Roman. He was looking up at you with lustful eyes as you spread his knees apart, sliding a hand up his basketball shorts knowing very well your husband of nearly 8 years doesn't like wearing underwear. You run your hand along his huge length feeling him harden at your touch, then move to his balls giving them a little attention before pulling his shorts to his ankles.

“Y/n what if one of the kids wakes up?” He asks his breath hitching.

“Ro, all five of them are knocked the hell out, now shut up and let me have my way with you” you smile before going right to work on his now very hard member.

“Damn, baby, I could watch you suck me off all night” he moans.

You continue to suck him off letting him go deeper and deeper until he met the back of your throat

“Shit Y/n I'm almost there” he grunts

You stop without warning causing Roman you groan at the loss of you.

“What the hell?” He asks.

You don't say anything instead you remove your jean shorts and panties tossing them aside. You straddle Roman feeling him just outside your entrance.

“Let me fuck you Daddy” you say as you feel him slide into you. Taking a second to adjust to waste no time getting a rhythm going making Roman’s eyes roll back.

“Fuck Y/n. Shit i love when you wanna ride it” he moans

“Ahh Ro! You like it baby?” You moan

“Hell yeah” he says squeezing your ass.

“Fuck Daddy i love when you grab my ass” you let out

“Y/n I'm gonna explode” he grunts

“Yeah daddy, give me every last drop of your delicious cum” you moan as you continue to ride him.

“Y/n…” Roman moans filling you up.

“Holy shit..I’m cumming” you almost scream.

“I love you so much” he laughs

“I love you too baby” you smile kissing him.”Round 2 upstairs?” You smirk

“I'll race you, the loser gets the “ no touching” punishment” he smiles.

“ You're on” you say jumping off his lap getting a head start.

*November 2015*

The last couple months  have been hard on you and Roman. He was once again in the title picture which was awesome but it also caused him to be extremely stressed out and grumpy. All the two of you did was argue. It was non-stop whether he was home or on the road it was a constant ongoing argument about everything. After Thanksgiving you sat down and talked about your relationship coming to the agreement to take some time apart. Not a divorce but more of a tiny separation. A break if you will.

*March 1st 2016*

You were sitting at home with Aaliyah,  Roman was out even though you two were still on the little break. He had been staying at the house knowing your due date was 2 days away.  You felt a sharp pain. Then a few more every 20 minutes or so. You call your mom explaining the sharp pains she says it's probably Braxton Hicks but since you're so close to your due date She’ll  take you to the hospital just to be safe.

You try to call Roman but get no answer which was strange. So you decide to call Patricia. Asking her to watch Aaliyah.

“ Of course honey, I'll be right over and I'll try to get a hold of my son for you, you just relax” she says

“ okay, thanks momma” you smile.

Moments later both Patricia and your mom were at your house. You grabbed your hospital bag just in case, kissed and hugged Aaliyah tight. And headed to the hospital.

At the hospital they admit you stating it was in fact labor. You were in a room with your mom squeezing her hand as a contraction washed over you.

“Fuck these are 100 times worse than with Aaliyah” you yell “ i cant do this” you cry

“Yes you can! You're so strong my sweet girl. You got this” you mom says kissing your head.

“ She's right. You're the strongest woman I know, and I'm right here with you” Roman says, rushing to your side taking your other hand.

“Roman, I'm so happy you're here” you say.

After another 30 minutes your second child was born. Another beautiful baby girl. Briana Christina Reigns.To say she was Roman’s twin would be an understatement she looked exactly like her daddy. She was perfect just like her two older sisters. Who were in the waiting room ready to meet her. Roman brought Jojo and Aaliyah in to meet their sister.

“Okay guys here she is. Your baby sister Briana.” Roman smiles.

“She's so cute! Can I hold her daddy?” Jojo asks

“Of course” you smile handing Briana to Roman as he walks over to the chair with Jojo handing her the baby gently.

After the girls left you and Roman sat alone with your new daughter.

“She's so perfect” he says

“ I know right? God she looks just like you” you smile leaning your head on his shoulder.

“She has your lips though” he smiles

“I love you” you say

“ I love you” he says

“No Roman i love you, let's stop this foolishness and be a family” you say

“I thought you never say that...I need my wife back” he winks.

“As much as i could use my husband too.... Doctor’s order is 4-6 weeks, remember?” You laugh.

[andrew2luv]

OBX: An Outer Banks Story (Season 1 - Episode 7)

“Fuck!” I wake up to see Rafe sitting up.

“What’s going on?” I rub my eyes and sit up.

“We fell asleep. It’s almost 10!” I look around and notice the beautiful sun lighting up the town.

“So?”

“So? My dad’s gonna be pissed!”

“Just tell him you woke up early to go see the sunrise.”

“He won’t believe that.”

“You never know.”

“Fine. I’ll try it. But can we just get going?”

“One second. Look at the ocean.”

He stops to look. It’s just as beautiful as it was at night, just different. We can see dolphins in the distance. There are a ton of boats of all sizes roaming. The beaches are starting to get crowded. It’s all busy, but in a beautiful way. The way people move around in similar patterns. It all just makes you realize how small the world is and just how similar we all are.

“Can we go now?”

“Sure.”

“Text me.”

“I will.” I step out of Rafe’s car.

“Feel free to use that spot whenever you need it.”

“Thanks. I’ll definitely be needing it after this.”

“Just be honest. Tell her exactly how you feel.”

“Thanks.” He just smiles before driving off.

I walk up to the back door and into the kitchen.

“Parker! My god!” Grams sits up from the table and nearly runs over to me. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Just with friends.”

“Really? Last night Taylor stopped by wondering if you were okay. Then this morning I get visits a Sarah and John B. they were all wondering if you were home and doing well. What the hell happened? Why are people asking me if you’re okay?”

“Can we just sit?” She says nothing but follows me to the table. “I’ve been holding in a lot of stuff. For a long time.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“About… my dad… he…” I can feel my body getting tense.

“Parker…”

“No. I need to finish.” She just smiles. “He used to hurt me. Beat me. Yell at me. And… when I attacked him… he was beating me and threw my mom’s urn.”

“Sweetie.” She reaches over and grabs my hands. “I know.”

“What?”

“Well, I knew about him beating you. I realized it when you were young. I was visiting for Christmas and you had a lot of bruises. I talked to him about it.” “You did?”

“Yeah. we got in a huge fight about it. That’s why I stopped coming. I couldn’t stand to see it.” She starts crying. “I’m so sorry.”

“Grams.” I grip her hands. “It’s not your fault.”

“But I could’ve stopped it. Tried harder. Gotten you and your mother out of there. I think about it every night.” “You couldn’t have done anything. None of us could.”

“But…” She reaches for the tears and starts wiping them.

“It’s over now. That’s all that matters. I’ve trying so hard to just let it all out and move on finally. And you need to do it as well.”

“You’re quite wise.” She smiles.

“I wouldn’t go that far. Just had a good talk last night.”

“Sounds like it.” She stands up. “You want some lunch? I can make you something. We can watch a movie. We can bake like we did when you were young.”

“That sounds amazing Grams… but maybe tomorrow? I’ve got something I need to do.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Of course.” She sniffles and wipes her tears, smiling.

“Love you.” I go in and hug her.

“Love you.”

When I was trying to think of the best way to fix things with everyone, I realized it would be easier to talk to them all at once. But how to get them together? I doubt they’d all come if I just asked them to. So I texted Taylor, but no response. So I go with my next best hope, Sarah. I text her, and no response. So then I text Rafe. Ask if Sarah’s home. She is. So I get on my bike and head off.

When I arrive I just stand out in the driveway. I don’t know what I’m going to say. I don’t know what she’s going to do when she sees me. Will she listen? Will she run? 

“Parker.” Rafe comes out the back door. “Hey. How you doing?”

“Nervous. Anxious. Stressed. Other synonyms.” We both laugh.

“Sarah’s nice. Too nice. She’ll at least listen to you.”

“Really?”

“Trust me. I know her quite well.”

“Thanks.”

“No prob. Gotta get going. Talk to you later?”

“Yeah.”

“She’s out back on the boat by the way,” Rafe says before riding off on his motorbike.

I walk around back, feeling more nervous each step I get closer. I see the boat. I see her. It looks like she’s moving boxes. She notices me when I get closer. She immediately smiles, which makes me feel a bit more comfortable and ready for this. She steps off the boat and onto the dock to meet me.

“Hey.” I find my hand shaking as I say it.

“Hey.” She walks up to me. “Sorry I didn’t answer your text. I just didn’t know what to say.”

“It’s fine. I understand. It’s complicated.” I take in a deep breath. “Can we talk? Just for a minute.”

“Yeah. Of course. Let’s talk on the boat.” She steps on the boat and I follow behind her.

But just as step on the boat it’s like a wave of memories hit me. Seeing where I stood yesterday. Seeing where I exploded. I can feel my breathing speeding up. But then, just as I’m ready to run away I hear Sarah’s voice.

“It’s okay. We can go and talk somewhere else.” I look up to see her.

“No. It’s fine here.” I step all the way on. “I’ve gotta be able to deal with it.” “That’s good.” She sits down and I go down next to her.

“The first thing I need to say is that I’m absolutely 100% sorry. I am so sorry for snapping at you. At scaring you. For everything I said and did.”

“It’s fine Parker. It’s really fine.”

“It’s not though. I’ve held in a lot my entire life and yesterday it just snapped. It had nothing to do with any of you.”

“We all know that.”

“We?”

“We didn’t really talk after everything that happened. Taylor was the first to leave. Then I left with John B. I’ve only really talked to him about it. He’s fine with you. Really. I think we were just worried about you. Worried you might… harm yourself.”

“Oh, I didn’t want you guys to be worried. I’m so sorry about that.”

“It’s fine. You worry about those you care about. We’re all friends. All we care about is that you’re alright.”

“That…” I can feel tears building up. “That means the world to me. To hear…”

“Well, it’s true. And I’m sure the others will tell you the same thing.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. They’re just afraid to say anything that will make it worse.”

“That’s why I came here. I was thinking it would be easier to talk to everyone at once. Maybe have everyone over to hang out and tell my story.”

“I think that sounds great. How ‘bout we do it here?”

“That would be great.” I rub my eyes.

“You good?”

“Just tired. Tired of everything.” I look at her and smile.

“I get it. Life isn’t easy sometimes.”

“It really isn’t.”

“Maybe you just need to get away for some time. Take a little vacation.”

“I would if I could.”

“You have any family anywhere else?”

“No. The only family I have is my Grams.”

“That sucks. Maybe we can have a nice beach day this weekend?”

“Sure that sounds good.”

Sarah walks me to my bike. She tells me she’ll text everyone. It’s planned for tomorrow night. She’s very confident that things will get better and everyone will be fine. Her confidence makes me more confident. I start feeling ready for tomorrow. Ready to heal. Ready to move on. But there’s still just one thought left on my mind.

“Have you talked to JJ?” She looks at me, a small smile.

“Was wondering if you’d ask about him.” “Well?”

“No. Neither has John B.”

“Okay. Thanks.” I hop on my bike.

“He can be a bit stubborn, but he’ll understand. More than anyone else really.”

“Hopefully.” I ride off.

I bike over to JJ’s house. When I get there I just stand outside. I stand there and think about what to say. Where do I start? Probably with an “I’m sorry.”. But what if he slams the door on my face? Do I keep talking? Do I just wait? Maybe he’s not even here.

“Fuck.” I snap myself out of my head and just walk up to the door.

I knock on it. I hear a slight movement in the house, but no one answers the door. I knock again.

“JJ…” I step back and try to see if I can see him at any of the windows. “I just wanted to let you know that I’m inviting everyone to a small get together tomorrow night. I wanted to get everyone together to talk. To apologize. To clear the air. But… but something in me really wanted to talk to you first.” I take a seat on the front steps. “I”m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I can hear some more movement from inside the house. “I don’t think I will ever be able to forgive myself for snapping at you. You didn’t deserve that. It didn’t have anything to do with you. I’ve got so many issues and I’m going to start working hard to fix them. I’m going to work hard so that I never treat anyone the same way I treated you.” I stand up and step away from the house. “I hope to see you tomorrow. I’m so sorry.” I get on my bike and ride off.

[lornahansonforbes]

Prologue

If you’re reading this today, then you know I’m dead, dead to you as you are to me, and that should make you so very happy.

I gave it all up sitting at a red light.

This last piece is the final chapter of “The Emesis Tray of Feelings,” it’s a trilogy.

The trilogy contains one play, “Hot Neon Lights” and “Patina on the Edge,” which is a series of monologues and now this, “It Didn’t Happen,” a one act play.

The first installment, “Hot Neon Lights,” tells the story of two events. Act One is a very messy breakdown followed by the fourth and final attempt of my taking my own life. I failed four times. Act Two is about six to weeks later and the family meeting with the psychiatrist where they decide if I should be locked up in hospital or go cold Turkey. There was no option, no Grey area, only black and white.

“Patina on the Edge,” is a series of monologues that highlights moments of grand and glorious to being a homeless junkie who was sucking dick, meanwhile being a thief and a shitkicker was a great way to being truly infamous. Lofty goals. It parallels the story that’s laid out in “Hot Neon Lights.”

“It Didn’t Happen.” is a one act play with four scenes. Scene one, the night of the breakup and a month after the breakup. Scene two, a phone call about the breakup. Scene three, a group of friends who just saw the two aforementioned plays and are in a bar talking about what The New York Times will say about “Hot Neon Lights” and “Patina on the Edge.”

As you read this, do know that this is like Ivory Soap, ninety-nine and forty-four one hundredth percent (99 44/100%) true.

Several people have been merged into one character and not vice versa.

You should know that I died alone and bitter that I was never truly loved by anyone except by my dogs, Zoey, Chase, Auggie, The Brother Levi, CoCo and Harry; and my three cats, Rasselas, Othello and Belle Kitty.

I sadly cannot think of one person, past or present, who ever truly loved me.

I suffered with Bipolar Depression and Anxiety for a large portion of my life. The three guys who I stupidly referred to as my boyfriend, I see now that they barely tolerated me as did my family.

I don’t give a shit. You and whomever can say what you want about me and pepper it generously with Drama Qween. You do know that but I can only tell you what my perception was and how I saw things, but as usual, you’re right and I’m wrong. Fuck you, your opinion is paying for my funeral and you had the option not to read this.

Lastly, all the things I’ve written starting in the 1980’s and in between has been thrown out and erased etc. Yeppers. All gone. I kept it all but as of this entry, I threw it all out.

Since I’ve submitted to various outlets and people yet only to learn I’ve been ignored.

But you can find me on Tumblr and not on Tinder. Good luck with that.

Post Script:

I’ve told stories about how I lived and how I overcame. “You should write a book.” Motherfucker, don’t play with me. You ain’t gonna fucking read it. Why even bother existing? I’m done. If you really want to know, actually pick up the phone and call me. Bye, Felicia.

I forgot to tell you that someone asked me not to give up writing. Sorry but I’m not gonna change my mind about cutting off my nose to spite myself.

Scene One

The late summer sun was slowly going down as we approached the corner of Melrose and North Robertson.

Granted it was nearly 8:00 PM, the sun was still blazing away. I turned to look from the passenger seat to see people milling about waiting to go inside but also the paparazzi was there gawking and snapping pictures.

She slowed the car down for just a millisecond and then took a sharp left turn. Then Sister Mary of the Perpetual Parking Spot smiled down upon us and she pulled in and parked the car.

The restaurant sign read Ty’s Thai Tie Dye, an Indochina Conglomerate. We went inside and were seated way in the back. It was a jungle, flowers, potted trees and Passion Flower vines everywhere. The sun broke through like mosaic tiles.

Dinner was delicious and uneventful. She was now pulling up in front of my modest flat.

“Darling, I’m sure we’ve had a wonderful evening but I feel that my husband is all over us these past few weeks. I’m just so sick and tired of seeing his Gold Audi here and there every time we go out. Why can’t we agree to disagree with the fact that I’m who I am and you are you we aren’t able to carry on like this anymore. I know that I should break it to you gently, but let’s rip the fucking Band-Aid off, it’s over. Don’t speak. Let’s go our separate ways with our splendiferous memories and as the cliché states, when you do speak of me, be kind,” she blurted out without looking at me.

It took me a moment and then I watched her Black Jaguar Vandam Plas glide away and disappear. Nearly comatose, I fumbled for my keys and took those first tentative steps towards the front door. I saw my cat in the window and her deep gold eyes. We looked directly at each other. I got in my car only to pound the steering wheel with tears in my eyes.

“You ungrateful bitch,” I screamed so loud that my ears were ringing worse than being a rock concert.

I drove into the night with flashes of our tongues lashing about like in some porn as we tore our clothes off each other. She was moist. My turgidity.

I landed at Pfeiffer Beach and I saw a Sandpiper. Fuck my life. The sound of the crashing waves and the sun rising. Stumbling back to my car I spied that CHP had paid a visit with a bright orange parking ticket tucked neatly underneath the wiper blades. God damn it to hell.

When I turned the car over, the radio was blaring, some static but nonetheless it jangled my nerves.

“Now, I am strong enough. Now, I’m strong enough to accept change. Yes, my darling, if you want to live in another place, I can understand it. It’ gonna hurt for a little while, but I can understand it, but before you walk out that door, touch me in the morning,” this woman’s anger and hurt were front and center. We were simpatico at that moment. We were both in a world of hurt and she like me, we were not feeling it.

I tapped a button on my car radio and my playlist replaced her voice as I pulled into traffic on Route 1 South heading home leaving Pfeiffer Beach in my rear view mirror.

Whoever that female voice was previously on my radio, I felt like Kathy Bates and I was swinging that sledgehammer and I left her there to suffer.

Normally I’m not that guy who “gets in touch with their feelings.” It’s just not in my DNA and when I do “get in touch,” it’ll be like a Gatling gun. Crumpled up like a wad of paper, riddled with bullets and left to die gasping for breath in a pool of blood.

This morning I got up and was meandering around my neighborhood. I have absolutely no idea how it happened but I stopped into a local coffee shop and got a Chai Latte. I usually get a green juice with pomegranate and Acai.

I was in a deep, deep funk since I had dinner with my friend and she dumped me. Who was she to me? My girlfriend; friend with benefits: fuck buddy; mistress or just another conquest? Whatever it was, it was good and it lasted but it wasn’t like this hadn’t happened before and so this came to pass and now in my mind I heard Louis Prima singing, “…everywhere I go.” If I really wanted to hear that song, I’d rather find the David Lee Roth remake.

Apparently I got my steps in this morning without some contraption attached to me or some app on my phone. I plunked my narrow behind down on a concrete Jersey barrier and I looking at the waves crashing onto Dockweller Beach. I know it’s not Malibu Beach just a short drive North and it certainly wasn’t Malibu Beach in Boston. From that vantage point, you’ll see the highway and Sister Corita Kent’s artwork in the distance.

Seriously what the fuck, yo? Processing, tabulating, analyzing, and parsing the events of being dumped. I know I saw the data, but what did it reveal? Was it actually that simple or was I looking at the galley’s for the unabridged Cyrillic version of Tolstoy’s tome with copious notes in the margins. Could I decipher The Daily Jumble? Was I looking at some foreign language? Was I experiencing some sort of dyslexia? Sigh! Could I really clean this mess with a piece of used snotty paper?

I’m solving Pi!! Yeah, yeah!! That’s the ticket!!

I clenched my hand around my paper cup and almost spilled my Chai latte. I was fucking pissed.

“Ungrateful BITCH,” that right I said it and I said it with such furious anger venom was dripping of my fangs.

What a difference a day makes. Bull-fucking-shit. Something felt dissimilar yet had I seen the same thing from a different vantage point?

At that exact moment I heard one of those thumper cars approaching blaring something I didn’t understand  anything but I did hear, “Baile, baile con El General” and just like that the car was gone. Was Joy Division only for headphones? This is Los Angeles not Colby College.

Perched on the Jersey barrier, I wasn’t contemplating why lint gets in my navel.  I couldn’t dodge raindrops. Had I tabled my ego? Were my expectations quickly quieted? Was it like that thumper car; was I blaring or amplifying some sort of acceptance of defeat? The hounds had been released at the same time as I gave up my control? I can be that Type-A personality, driven and getting in touch with my feeling resided in an abyss somewhere, but the fuck if I know.

I felt dampness. Where am I now? Am I on the Maid of the Mist or standing underneath Niagara Falls? God damn it to hell!! I was crying. I normally don’t do that. I clenched my jaw so tightly I had TMJ.

“Mission Accomplished,” I think was actually the last time I did cry, but that was for my furry friends, Mickey & Minnie and then it was Stanley & Blanche. Do I get ahold of the anger in me? What the fuck? Maybe a word, a smile, an hour of happiness? NETX??!! I picked up my phone. I scrolled through my contacts. In a parallel universe, I called you a thousand times when I know I did not and I never will call you.

A boisterous and vociferous colony of seagulls appeared just a few yards away from me. Fuck. Hitchcock.

My paper cup is empty. I knew I had to dispose of it. Recycle, reuse, repurpose or like this affair, would it end up in a landfill? Just another thing to be unceremoniously and recklessly tossed away. It’s just a thing.

With a great exasperated sigh, eight months, two weeks and a day. That’s how long it lasted without me actually keeping track of it. Don’t go there. Don’t judge me. Men and women silently judge me and you but I can only assume they leave something on me so I don’t catch cold. Oh, shit. We had seen other naked. She fucking hurt me. Okay, I’m not that person, who’d scrawl, No Sale, on a mirror if I found a check and a note that read, “Last night was dope.”

My phone beeped, a text message letting me know I had to drive to Pacoima.

Gotta bounce. Later. Onto embrace the new challenges ahead and channel them into existence.

Scene Two

Part Three.

A Hello, bleep.

B How did you know it was me?

A I’ve known for a long time and plus it’s out there.

B Why did you say that?

A What did I say exactly?

B Don’t give me that bullshit. I saw it.

A I told you about how I felt but then I felt around in the dark and I didn’t know how that single cell actually started to feel like encouragement.

B What I said was to do it for yourself and not me.

A I did it for you first and then afterwards I got to me.

B You took more than you should have and you took it to another place. Also that’s not how it went down.

A It’s how some people work. As I told before, give me a thing to work with and I can easily create from there.

B I only told you about a sixteenth of what happened.

A But that was enough for me and those three sentences told me everything I needed to know. Fuck bleep, I told you recently about my Bipolar Depression and how I grapple with it hour by hour and mostly by myself with no assistance or guidance from anyone.

B I appreciate that and your candor but it makes me crazy. But fuck bleep, I know how mentally exhausted some people feel being in your orbit.

A Bleep, dude, we’re trying to get to that place in the day where we can say, I’m still here. First we get out of bed unassisted and the rest is gravy.

B Why such labels? I mean I know most of the names but you know I’m a tee shirt and jeans.

A Without inferring or intimating the slightest thing, I had a good feeling that who she is and most likely she has her own money but she doesn’t dismiss her husband’s money.

B I have my own money too but I’m not going to be seen eating on North Robertson.

A Possibly I’d see you at one place on Melrose or on Alameda and they’re not that far from where I put you. Then again, there’s a place around the way and you can walk there. I pay attention to things like that ever since I saw Russell Simmons ex wife Creamora eating at raw restaurant in LA a few years ago.

B Wow. How did find that out?

A She had a reality show and they showed her eating there and as a woman of color, she nearly lost her mind. One of things they served was a pizza but it wasn’t a New York pepperoni pizza all hot and gooey with cheese. I yelled at the TV, Gurl, I’ll take a slice. I’m in.

B Wait a minute, bleep. You told me you have issues with food.

A I do but sometimes I’ve got to throw caution to the wind and suffer with each delicious bite.

B So that’s why you fabricated that restaurant.

A Well, kinda sorta. When I was in LA, I found a great little Thai place a few blocks away from The Dolby and if I remembered the name I would’ve told you about it. They’ve got some amazing vegan options.

B This is one of the things I find about you, you know some of the most trivial things and it’s fucking scary.

A Bleep, I just hope I don’t actually lose my mind. I’d hope that you or someone else would put me down if dementia or Alzheimer’s effected me.

B Don’t say that. I sometimes like it when you remember what happened way back when.

A I’m not sure what’s going to happen but I’m still here regardless.

B I’ve got to ask why you said I cried.

A Bleep, you are but one of many Taurus men I know and if they do actually cry, it’ll be in the shower and they’d never admit to knowing how to cry. They might well up with tears but never cry in front of anyone ever.

B That’s fucked up.

A Taurus men do write but never about their feelings nor do they own a diary or journal. If that April born man exists who shares their feelings, they are a very rare breed of man.

B Well writing isn’t my thing.

A You sound exhausted.

B I had to compose myself and all the while I cursed your name.

A Oh it’s because I hit a nerve?

B You’re the last person I’d ever, of course, I think of to wax philosophic and then admit it to someone else let alone admit it to myself.

A Bleep, motherfucker, I’m completely aware and yet I’m not living under the delusion by pining away waiting for you to ask.

B No, it’s not that but does fall in the same zip code and then I used one word, empath. You dug as deep as you could and I’m like, fuck, man, I’m on the phone with you.

A Bleep. Bleep. I’ve known ever since your old EarthLink email and I never and I wouldn’t unless you asked. I told you before I see things that I don’t necessarily understand and with each message, I just end up seeing something.

B I gathered as much. There’s my Nou-Nou. Come up. It’s okay. Come on, Nou-Nou. Move your lard ass, Janx. There you go. All better. Rumple, not a word. You stay right there and let Nou-Nou get some.

A The kittehs!!

B Don’t distract. I’m not sure if you have a malignant will or you gave me something to think about.

A I can’t apologize more. I’m truly very sorry. I riffed on an idea and here we are.

B Life isn’t over as you think of it just because you’re alive. There’s more.

A That’s why I told you that I wouldn’t write again. Stirred the pot.

B You’re a dick.

A And your point is? A cunt? I’m The Dowager Empress and that’s all there is to that.

B You’re so full of shit.

A We’re not going to snap at each other like two terriers.

B Is this what we’ve been reduced to? Bickering just for arguments sake?

A You’re the one with the brown eyes, so you could possibly be full of shit. I’ve got green eyes, pea green with jealousy.

B You said some shit and it hit me. What’s that thing you usually say? Oh yeah, it’s a punch in the face you can’t take back.

A Bleep, dude. Most people want that moment in life where someone grabs ahold of you and pleads with you not to leave. It’s been played out in the movies, but not in our lives, right? I don’t know the life you led but I’ve had three boyfriends and each one of them dumped me. I’ve cried and played all the sad songs. You could have possibly done the same thing but let’s face it fucking Cher said it best, we all sleep alone.

B Whitney clapped back and said I’d rather be alone than be unhappy.

A True. But I had the near perfect relationship with The Beast. More than 40 years together. We both had separate lives and we were celibate lovers. We had each other’s back we did everything for love but we never did that. I knew that he wasn’t some Sir Galahad to love from afar, motherfucker was two legged boa constrictor. I’m okay with dying alone and unloved.

B That’s really a fucking bleak future. Well insert a happy go-lucky cliché here followed by Shady Pines. I can’t with you, bleep.

A I know that we’re estranged but don’t divorce me or fire me just yet.

B Okay.

-The curtain comes down and the audience breaks out in an uproar of applause and cheers-

Scene Three

E What was that we just watched?

CI wish I knew.

E 90 minutes of a conversation that never happened?

D Clearly you’ve missed the point of it. Two guys who knew each other since high school and they meet up years later. One guy had a bad break up and the other guy was now, as he said, a widower.

C Excuse me?

E Yeah excuse me. I don’t see it. Okay high school is one thing but forty years later, they’re talking like that?

D Okay let’s go for a quick pop at The Stone and we’ll go home afterwards.

E Which stone?

C I think that the closest one is Rosetta.

D No. That’s by Park Avenue. I think this one is Killarney but is it Kilkerry? Fuck. It’s right here at 8th Avenue.

C Don’t make thing of it but look over getting of that cab, Miles Silverberg.

E I know that name.

D Murphy Brown.

C It is him. Not bad looking but not my type.

D Bitch, your type is anyone who can make the letter O.

C You should talk. You’re still paying off that asbestos abatement from the last one.

D The two of you are practically virgins again, but then again Father Frank doesn’t give confessionals.

C/E Fuck you.

D Oh look, we’re here.

E I’ve always wondered exactly how many bars in Manhattan are actually Irish bars.

C Probably a few but I’m not sure. There’s only one Blarney Stone and I think it’s in Lower Manhattan not here in Midtown. I’m thinking that anything above 23rd Street is either owned by The Vara or Lyons’ Brothers.

E Damn.

D Hello, Merrick. We like a bottle of your best Shiraz and three glasses. We’ll be over here. Thank you. Yes, Merrick, yes you’re all that but put a ring on it.

E Why won’t you just fuck him and get it over with?

D We like this game. We just love to flirt with each other. No harm, no foul.

C She’s been playing with Merrick for years and he loves the attention.

E I wonder what The Times says tomorrow.

D This is the the last chapter of the trilogy. Uh…

C First was Hot Neon Lights, second was Patina on the Edge and now, It Didn’t Happen.

D I can’t get it out of my head that one scene with the mother fighting with the dad. She was so mad at him, she put out a cigarette in her hand.

C Oh fuck yeah, that was fucking brutal.

E Can someone get that mad?

D She’s his mother and momma bear wasn’t having it.

C True but I’m not sure about the pretentious names. Trenton Burroughs English and Daniel Charles Snyder. But you know what? They’re actual people. I found out that Trenton is some how many times removed from the Queen of Norway and Daniel is a surgeon with Doctors Without Borders. AND the most fucked up thing is that they don’t know each and have never met.

D You know what’s even more fucked up than? There’s an actual family here on the social register here in New York with the last name, Frankenstein. Google that.

E Thank you, Merrick. Ladies, a toast?

C Yes please and don’t be stingy.

D Miss Thing, leave some for the rest of us.

ALL 3 Cheers! Give my regards to Broadway!!

E Hot Neon Lights was excellent, though I thought the two fantasy moments were beyond me.

D Why?

E Is that what you’d expect from dropping a hit of acid?

C Not all the time. It’s different from person to person. I did it once and I had goosebumps most of the time and I saw these white penny tiles dance like waves and I was surfing.

D I went to see a midnight showing of Eraserhead in college and I hate that fucking movie. Sigh. I cringe whenever I hear, Eraserhead is dead. I wanna punch someone in the face.

E Damn and I said I was traumatized by seeing Gina Gershon’s pubic hair in Killer Joe. I’m sorry but on the silver screen in a crowded theater. I shudder to think.

C A straight guy cringing at the mound of Venus? What happened? Did you see your mother in the shower?

E It’s not that deep. My face is one thing but on a forty-foot screen? Shit was scary.

D Yeah that is unforgettable. Besides that, was the movie any good?

E I don’t know. I mean William Friedkin directed The Exorcist. Both are going to fuck with your head, period.

D Oh yeah he did but what was really fucked up was in Patina on the Edge when he told us how his father and stepmother thought that they were watching his life story on the silver screen.

C What fucked with my head with my head was when he told us that he actually went to M Street and those stairs. I saw the picture and it was daytime and the caption read, Here laid Father Merrin’s body. Regan MacNeil astro-projected his priestly self right out the window. Rest in Power, Mercedes McCambridge.

E What?

C Yeah. Gimme a second.

D You’re obsessed much?

C I couldn’t believe it myself and I took a screenshot. Look.

E Damn. That’s really fucked up. Here.

D Oh my God! That is fucked up.

C I know reality stranger than fiction.

E It wasn’t science fiction or was it tonight?

D Whatever it was, it was some great writing. He can tell a story.

C What did you get out of it?

E I’m thinking that after seeing Hot Neon Lights, Patina on the Edge and tonight’s It Didn’t Happen, I think they should have a face to face and make a decision if they’re going to be actual friends and figure out if they want to be celibate lovers and in a platonic marriage.

D Fuck that bullshit. It’s obvious that they are actually going to have a contentious relationship and they’re not going to find each other sitting together chatting it up in Shady Pines. The only thing that they can have is a hidden mutual respect for each other and the rest of us can only imagine that since neither one of them will admit to anything. He’s a whore and he’s a prude. They don’t know what they want, but can they be friends in any iteration of the meaning. We’ll never know.

C Well…unrequited love can keep you going. Okay I’ve got unrequited love too but I see mine as that song, All American Boy by Steve Grand. I just love that song and I’m obsessed with the media calling it Brokeback Breakout and he’s like the Gay Cowboy. That’s really a bad cliché but it’s even worse to know that not every fag wants to suck the quarterback’s dick. Yeah let that big man on campus get a pot belly and go bald, and at the 40th high school reunion you’re still in a size seven like me and what’s even worse is that all the girls want to kill me.

D Do let me know when old and bitter arrives.

E Oh c’mon. It can’t be all that bad. You’re supposed to live off a compliment for two weeks, but I always hope for the best. I mean I like my family and we all get along.

C Well how nice for you but I doubt it. It’s like Homer isn’t going to strangle Bart for the umpteenth time.

E Back to the other moment in Hot Neon Lights, what was up with that Diana Ross scene?

D That was explained in Patina.

C Yeah. He went to the Diana Ross Live at Caesar’s Palace show on two hits of mescaline but I think the point was like she said, I am and I’m going to be.

D Powerful.

E Didn’t he also explain how he could actually touch the guy on the flying trapeze at the circus. Apparently he likes dropping acid.

C Patina had that whole conversation about “Gee whiz. Boy I was drunk last night.”

D Yeah it was consensual but I’m not sure if they were that drunk or that high.

E I know right but he did fuck that girl after an eight ball.

C Oh yes! He was up to THANGS!!

D Indeed he was but that failed threesome was even funnier.

E Give the guy a break. I’m not sure if he wanted to fuck the husband in front of his wife or fuck the wife as the husband was going to fuck him.

C YES!! The bamboo chair hanging from the ceiling. If I was in that same situation I have no idea how to proceed.

E True, true, but I’m glad he told us from the jump, we’d never believe it actually happened. My mind hurts.

D Look gentlemen, the bottle is empty and we all have to go to work in a few hours. Let’s table this for the next time. Until then.

E Okay but it’s Romeo & Juliet with social media at The Public.

C That’s got to be something else. We’ll text after we read the review in The Times.

ALL 3 Good night, Merrick!!

[oliviasugarbabe]

i hope im not bothering you, but im a fandom writer and im greatly interested in the sugar baby lifestyle, so i was hoping to ask a few questions! is the stereotypical lifestyle of a sugar baby exaggerated or is it genuinely like that for some? is there something that most people don’t understand about with the relationship and what goes on, or is it as simple as it is portrayed in the media? do you have any tips when writing about being a sugar baby? thank you very much, i appreciated it! 💓

Not at all babe! I haven’t made a post like this yet so let me just write out a whole response about this stuff! I have lots to say to bear with me haha. I know you’re asking for your writing but I get constant questions about if sugaring is really this easy great glamorous thing from those thinking about doing it so I’m just gonna cover it all. 

 Yes the stereotypical lifestyle of a sugar baby is exaggerated, it’s not as simple as hopping on an app and getting a date with a reasonably attractive older man who will shower you with money and gifts for nearly nothing in return. I always tell girls this! It looks more like being active on multiple apps/sites and/or freestyling. It looks like hours upon hours on your phone perfecting your profiles, chatting with men who often will be time-wasters with no intention of spoiling you, and tons of dates with time-wasters too. Also, hours of screening men to make sure they’re legit. An insane amount of grooming yourself. Nails, hair, waxing/shaving, teeth whitening, exfoliating, moisturizing, soft feet, gym, perfume, makeup, cute lingerie, not getting the tattoo you want, even perhaps fillers and plastic surgery (I have tattoos and no surgery and I’m not skinny, but I know I’m giving up lots of rich older traditional men by looking this way) Having a spreadsheet to keep track of the lies you tell to each man (honestly that part is fun for me tho) and just way more work than you’d think from the popular stereotype. 

Lots of men won’t give you the money you want, and it can take a long time to find a guy who will and you might not even like him. Sugaring also includes fucking old, wrinkly men like a porn star and 100% making them think you love it. They’ll do weird shit like lick your whole face and you gotta pretend that’s fine too. These are rich, often white, privileged men from a generation and brotherhood that often look down on women and you have to fake the correct personality with each one. Can you drop everything to travel with him? Can you come up with a lie for your parents/roommates/friends? Can you say “no” to bareback sex in a cute way? Answer his call/text when you’re in bed and just wanna be left alone with Netflix? Ask for money without being nervous? Can you keep the conversation going on a date if he’s boring and awkward as hell? Giggle when he shits on your generation and other women? Not feel guilty about his wife he’s cheating on? Lie to everyone you know? Read on the internet about how disgusted some people are about what you do for money? Be seen with him in public? Be spotted by someone you know? Sure, these things are technically optional; you can just refuse every man who isn’t perfect, but a lot of women on here are afraid to talk about the fact that when you’re doing this because you need money, there are often tradeoffs and boundaries crossed in order to get paid, because that’s what sex work often is. I think it’s glamorized a lot and that ultimately hurts sex workers. I need breaks sometimes when I can’t take it anymore and I don’t have a current “main” daddy. Sex work has also done serious damage to my desire to EVER be in a normal relationship with a man, get married, or have kids. I already pretty much hated men but now I hate them more lmao. 

Lastly, like any sex worker, you perhaps will have to live with the constant risk of being outed to your family and friends, and the risk of having one of these men do something horrible to you. 

But yes, some girls DO live that lifestyle we dream of but it’s rare and hard to find and these women are often models or at least look like ones, live in the right cities, have the right connections, etc and just have access to that shit in ways that I don’t and many women don’t. Privilege still shows its face in the sugar bowl! Truthfully, there’s generally, for most of us, more money in escorting. Way more payoff for your time. I’d rather just have sex and leave with my hourly rate than spend all this time and energy being a whole girlfriend most of the time if I’m being honest. 

As for what the relationships are like, refer to the details above lol! Aside from that I should say I’ve had some good relationships but they’re men like any other. I deal with neediness, clinginess, condescension, etc a lot. They’ll flake on dates. Resist spending money just when you thought they might be a serious daddy. And again, it’s not just about being young and attractive. You usually also have to be interesting, smart but not too smart, sexy but not slutty, fuck like a porn star, confident, and sometimes, not show much that you’re a real person. Like, you can cry in front of a real boyfriend. If you cry in front of your sugar daddy, you might get dropped like a hot potato. You know what I mean? Be a perfect girl on his arm, or he’ll find someone else. Some daddies are good men sure and not like this, but still, lots of sugar daddies are part of a certain lifestyle and attitude and they expect something specific in return for their money. 

Lastly, writing about sugaring and sex work is something I do for fun and to be a part of my own community and to give honest word about sex work. I think that writing about sex work is best left to sex workers. Fandom writing is fun and harmless tho! If you’re gonna write about us, you made a good start finding someone who is actually in that world to ask about it! Sex workers write books and blogs about this life and I recommend finding them. There are a lot of inaccurate, shitty, harmful portrayals of us out there and I hope you do whatever you can to not contribute to that! Although....if you’re writing a sexy fanfic or something I feel like it’s fine either way cause I’ve gotten hot and bothered by all kinds of severely problematic wattpad stories and such so like. Anyways, if you want me to keep helping you, you can DM me and I’ll answer your random writing questions. I understand completely why people are drawn to writing about sugar baby lifestyles, it’s just not always what they wanna hear. I hope your piece comes out good! I’d love to read it if you wanna share eventually! 

[helisol]

ye s, well

it basically came to me like a prophet receiving a vision from an angry god. you know. like brian david gilberts video ideas but with more slow burn.

no really i wrote all this down in my phone’s note app because some nearly coherent things popped up in my head every time i was on the train or bus these last few days.

(after-actually-writing-this disclaimer/note: this is 2000 words of slightly edited rambling about Bagginshield in the Afterlife. i had to put it in a read more.)

so the gist of it

the botfa goes just as in the movie with minor details altered. like bilbo kissing thorin just before he dies which inadvertently causes a ripple in time and space that makes the valar curious of them both. you know. minor stuff.

so bilbo goes back to the shire, the war of the ring goes down, and the hobbit/elf gang sails to valinor at the end. classic stuff, not much alternating of universes here.

but here’s where things turn into the “my city now” meme because DUDE DO I HAVE A LOT OF THOUGHTS ABOUT VALINOR AND HOW THE AFTERLIFE WORKS

like, I’m sorry mister jolkien rolkien tolkien, but just putting people into a hall to await being judged like a hospital waiting room? snooze, that’s boring!

so first of all, and you can fight me on this, Yavanna Made The Hobbits And You Can’t Change My Mind.

it just makes sense for her to have been very saddened by the destruction of literally all her work on arda through melkor’s poison, so she made living, growing things that could protect themselves from harm. as opposed to the ents, by the way, which were made by Eru to protect all the other living, growing things. it was a nice gesture of Eru to make those, but not quite what Yavanna wanted or had in mind, i imagine.

as with the dwarves, Eru wasn’t all happy about the existence of another race he didn’t make but you know, whatever, ‘I’ll just let this married couple have their own kids aside from mine, it’s okay’.

so he hands both the dwarves and the hobbits independent thought and free will, but under the condition (and here is where the afterlife stuff comes into play) that Aule and Yavanna be responsible for their mortal creations after their death. meaning that both races have seperate afterlives from the halls of mandos, MEANING THAT ITS COMPLETELY FINE FOR AULE AND YAVANNA TO BE LIKE “oh look honey, these two are so very in love and remind me of us, shan’t we do something about that?”

so. they do something about that. more precisely, they rearrange their afterlife-realms so they’re next to each other and someone with enough willpower could cross through the barrier. because listen, they’re valar, they can do whatever they want just for kicks.

okay so after that tangent lets get back to the meat of the matter: gay dwarves. I know not everyone has read Sansukh, a 500k word mammoth of a fic, and I don’t really intend to copy any of det’s canon, but their version of The Halls of Mahal really inspired me. basically the dwarven afterlife is one big hunk of a mountain/underground city where they’re free to live their days until dagor dagorath doing what they do best in the company of their families and friends; like smithing, crafting, building and other JustDwarrowThings.

meanwhile the hobbit afterlife is Basically The Shire and instead of being given the materials to build things, all the hobbits who go there get to grow plants and do their gardening. they don’t have to- just like none of the dwarves have to craft stuff- since there’s always enough food for everyone, but they are just allowed to do what they do best if they so desire.

now when Bilbo arrived in the undying lands he was still Old As Hell and im sorry to put it this way, he definitely kicked the can after like, a week of living there. not really so undying, them lands, huh. anyway Bilbo bites the dust and LOOK AT THAT he’s suddenly young again, and another LOOK AT THAT he’s standing in a very comfy, but Not Quite Bag End hobbit hole that has a note hung up on the front door. you wouldn’t think gods could have handwriting but hey, again, they’re gods they can do whatever. the note just tells him that yavannah made this place special and just for Bilbo but that there’s another home waiting for him. very cryptic there, lady. he doesn’t leave at first because hey, his family is here. there’s a lot of reunions and celebrating and food because its the fucking hobbit afterlife, what else would you expect

it takes him a few days of Regular Hobbit Life in his new home to realise ‘holy shit, this is so boring’ so what does a Fool of a Took do when things get boring and there’s a note urging him to do something?

HE’S GOING ON AN ADVENTURE

so Bilbo runs through the whole not-shire, meeting all sorts of people he outlived on the way (looking at you, Lobelia), as well as some elves. because elves can definitely just waltz through all the afterlives. they can walk on top of snow, you think they wouldn’t walk around wherever they please in valinor? rip to mankind, but they’re different.

he gets to the furthest reaches of it eventually, and lo and behold, what awaits him but the view of a tall mountain, an invisible barrier and a very flustered Thorin who is at his wits end as to how Bilbo even got here.

now for thorin’s part of the story we’ll have to start after the botfa again. he basically woke up in the darkness like an episode of naked and afraid, and started talking to Aule. his maker, who loves him to bits by the way since he made thorin, just tells him he’s free to go wherever his heart takes him. again with the cryptic messages from the gods.

so thorin, still very self-loathing and bitter because of his actions right before his death, sees this as Mahal’s way of saying ‘please don’t step foot in my halls u disgusting litle creacher’, when really he just meant ‘please do some well deserved self reflecting and then come inside to be with your family, they all miss you terribly’.

after his chat with the maker thorin just spawns in right at the front gate of the mountain and he has a choice to make. go inside or stay outside. and we all know Thorin’s proclivity for drama so he basically spends LITERAL YEARS just living in self imposed solitary confinement.

oh also tiny hc here, thorin was said to have taken “any work offered to him in the towns of men”, and they showed him in a smithy, but personally I believe they meant it when they said “any kind of work”. so basically thorin is a jack of all trades, master of some. he definitely has master-level skills in certain areas though, enough to build a vaguely hobbit-hole shaped house. why is it hobbit hole shaped?

oh right, the part where Thorin is absolutely enamoured with Bilbo.

"Go back to your books and your armchair, plant your trees, watch them grow. If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.”- HELLO? GAY POLICE? I’D LIKE TO REPORT A CASE OF ‘DWARF KING REALISING THAT THE HOBBIT WAY OF LIVING IS A REALLY GREAT ONE IN CONCEPT / WISHING HE COULD HAVE HAD THAT KIND OF LIFE WITH BILBO’

anyway it’s a long 80 years until Thorin does get to meet Bilbo again, and in the meantime we have one of my favorite additions to any Hobbit fanfic ever: Frerin

For the uninitiated, Frerin is Thorin’s brother. They also have a sister, Dís, but Tolkien never specified when she died and she was a bit younger than Thorin and Frerin so I reckon she’d still be alive as an old dwarf lady somewhere?

Anyway, Frerin. Oh boy. Sansukh, again, does an excellent job at turning Frerin into a character with a level of authenticity that gets real fucking close to Genuine Tolkien™, so most of my own characterisation of Frerin is based on that in Sansukh. With the important omission of the dwarves not being able to see the present/their still alive loved ones in middle earth through a magic mirror pool.

so Frerin takes it upon himself to leave the mountain in search of his brother because he really does want him back. but also because Mahal has had it with Thorin’s antics and suggests Frerin fetch him so he can finally reunite with his family. Mahal doesn’t talk to the dwarves a lot because he’s like an awkward and distant dad, but he does actually speak to them.

so Thorin is supposed to go see his family, which he does, but not immediately. it takes like, a solid year of just brotherly (and sister-sonly) companionship for him to open up about all his anxieties and regrets and THEN he goes into the mountain to cry in his mother’s lap. as you do.

however Thorin still feels like he doesn’t 100% belong with the other dwarves in there, so he frequently spends long stretches of time outside, building away at his house, thinking about Bilbo. the company goes out to visit him sometimes.

more details on the house tho, cuz it’s Important; it’s built halfway into a hill near the mountain, like a proper hobbit hole would be, but the lower levels are built into stone. look, he’s had 80 years to work on constructing this. it’s near perfect in every way for both hobbit and dwarf standards and could definitely fit the entire company and more inside.

now about the barrier. elves can pass through without a second thought because they’re shiny little bastards who just get to do all the cool stuff, but the other races can’t just hop between realms like that; they really have to muster up the willpower. which usually means they can’t do it because a drawback for both dwarves and hobbits is that they favor isolation from other races even in death, and as such don’t want to mingle with each other.

unless you’re Bilbo Badass Baggins though, who simply runs through the barrier to yell at Thorin for leaving him sad and alone for 80 years. he is that bitch.

there’s gonna be some legolas and gimli shenanigans if i can fit them in (cuz i dont know when exactly they sailed west together), possibly a mention of tauriel because bruh peter jackson did us dirty by not giving her any closure besides ‘lol i guess she’s banished from mirkwood??’ and Mairon. because. I also have some thoughts about him.

also Fili and Kili as pseudo matchmakers because every fic needs that

and did I mention there’s gonna be hozier lyrics for chapter titles

i said this was the gist of it but i somehow ended up at ~1900 words. well, more power to me.

[inthedrift]

Hansen Family Feels

So I have a lot of Hansen Family feels, mostly Chuck Hansen Feels, let's be honest, but I've made a load of notes on posts the past few weeks that I feel would benefit from being put into a longer thing and just analyse all these FEELS and try and form them into something resembling sanity.

I'm gonna use some pictures, some quotes and some gif sets/posts to help explain where either the thoughts came from or help highlight the example.

2 heads up if you do click on this

 I made myself cry writing this

 It’s 2.9K 

So Chuck is introduced as the cocky and competent young guy like he wants people to know he's fucking fantastic at what he does "That's a new record" you wouldn't say that if you didn't feel like you had something to prove.

Because Chuck grew up watching his father and the others during the highlights of the war, watching all the pilots being fawned over, they had interviews and parades and bloody sportswear contracts and people adored them and Chuck.

Chuck didn't get into a jaeger until after Knifehead, when the public and the government had become disillusioned with the pilots and the programme and Chuck who hadn't just wanted to get into a jaeger to avenge his mum, but because he wanted to be the best and here he is. Piloting the best jaeger ever made and no one seems to care.

So Chuck had more than likely idolised the Beckets - hell he has that jacket and Herc isn't exactly the sort of bloke that would wear one of those jackets so 100% its copying Becket boys. And then not only does Raleigh bail and go build a bloody wall for 5 years but it was their failure that was like a nail in the coffin and so I think Chuck's anger isn't just that Raleigh isn't good enough. It's that he holds Raleigh responsible for taking that opportunity away.

But I'm not saying that Chuck is fame hungry, no. I'm saying that he was brought up constantly in his father's shadow and their relationship is rocky and I'm guessing that Chuck didn't get a lot of praise or Herc being proud of him and that's what he wants he wants to feel that someone is proud of him, that someone appreciates him.

So queue Raleigh walking into the Shatterdome and Herc sees them and just shoots a stern "Wait here" at Chuck before going over and greeting Raleigh

And Herc obviously respects Raleigh and he's all smiles and friendly and discussing the "good ol' days" and is sincere in his apology to Raleigh about Yancy being dead and like we can probably assume that he has never either congratulated Chuck on a good run or talked about his mum as their both too emotionally constipated and its not really a shock that Chuck is pissed before they even start

And then you have the cafeteria scene, and Herc is all warm smiles and physical contact with Raleigh - and honestly except for holding Chuck back or shaking him off when do we actually see Herc and Chuck touch?

And Herc is then feeding Raleigh - with Chuck's food because like Chuck has nothing in front of him and Rals wasn't even in the mess when Herc obviously went and got the food and Chuck is understandably pissed. Because Herc is treating Raleigh like a son and that's Chuck's dad, it should be him that gets that attention and that affection.

He shouldn't have to share that and why doesn't Herc treat him like this and that will just open up all those wounds that have been there probably since before his mum died, are just being poked and prodded at.

Chuck wants that love from Herc but he has no clue how to get it and I think on a level that he maybe doesn't feel he deserves it, because obviously Herc is more than willing to give that sort of affection out to blokes who run away and hide for 5 years but he won't give it to his only son. I think Chuck maybe thinks he's too far gone to be worthy of that and that makes him hold the anger closer because that's something that Herc can't ignore or take away from him, can't give that away to someone else.

So it's no wonder he wants to fight Raleigh, so would I. Chuck has always felt that if he just fought harder, fought better, was better then Herc would love him, but then Raleigh has come in a broken failure and Herc treats him so much better and Chuck can't cope with that because clearly its not about him not being a good enough ranger.

It's about him not being a good enough person, not being a good enough son, and Herc only cements that fact in the deleted scene. (x)

Because Herc tells him exactly that. That he's a great ranger but that means nothing because he isn't good. And the way Chuck leans back and the look he gives Herc, tells you so much. Because how dare he.

Chuck lost his mother at 10, and when he needed a parent the most Herc wasn't there and he was left to jaeger techs and machines for so long. Watching this idolised version of his dad on a tv and only experiencing the vague presence of a shell of that man.

And then he was shoved into a jaeger at 16, he never had a childhood and then not only did he have to grow up way quicker than he should have after scissure but then he had to again and this time he got to see himself through the funhouse mirror that is his dads memories in the drift. I'd put money on them being regret and pain and anguish and constantly associating Chuck with the loss of Angela and fuck that's gonna mess a kid up.

And Chuck takes those shots at Herc, says "you didn't raise me to be anything" and "we don't even need to speak at all" because he wants to hurt him, just like he's been hurt. Because Herc is just needling that wound, that Raleigh Becket is better than Chuck will ever be because he's 'good' and Chuck is just that 10 year old boy inside, full of hurt and anger.

And Herc knows all of this, because the drift goes both ways and he knows how hurt and angry Chuck is, but they're both so stubborn and don't know how to express these things that all they do is hurt each other more.

So now we come to the fight with Leatherback and Chuck is so quick to rush over to Herc and help him up and yeah sure he's saying "Get up Old Man" but it's not a dig at that point, it's a way to hide his fear, because Herc hit fucking hard. Like he could have died in that hit and Chuck is scared, he's stuck in a giant metal death trap with a giant monster outside and he nearly lost his dad.

So Chuck tries to help him up and Herc shakes him off (not a brilliant screenshot it's dark and happens hella quick so time stamp is 1:17:27 ish) and Chucks anger sores back to the surface because even when he's broken Herc doesn't want Chuck’s help.

We know that this isn't about Chuck, that it's about Herc not wanting to appear weak, can't appear weak but that's not how Chuck sees it, we know that from psychology that children can't see their parents reasoning in these circumstances and can only take it as a slight upon them, and again it hits at all of Chuck's insecurities.

And Herc does it AGAIN when they're climbing onto Striker's head and Chuck doesn't even react because this is obviously just what he expects and that's so awful that he just expects to be shoved away by his father, but still he follows this insane plan because he loves his dad and he trusts him with his life.

And that brings me to this post (x)

Because the tags are perfect here and highlight so many things. Because Chuck is 21, he's barely an adult and he's not a well-adjusted adult at that. He doesn't think he's gonna see his 22nd birthday hell he's probably astounded he made it this far, and here he is screaming at his worst nightmares come to life with only anger in his heart because that's all he knows.

And Herc, bless him because while all of this post has been about how much damage Herc has done to Chuck there isn't any Herc hate here let me be 100% clear about that. Because Herc will never win dad of the year but he loved Chuck with his whole being.

Imagine having to look at your son and every day wonder how disappointed Angela would be at what you'd done to her sweet boy. Because that's what he will see, he will see all the damage and pain he caused and brought on the kid and he will just hate himself for it, but again Chuck won't see that the regret will be about how Herc did as a parent. Chuck will see the regret as Herc regretting having him for a son.

But Herc loved Chuck wholeheartedly because he knew Chuck was a 1st Class arsehole, and he still adored him, not because he was the perfect son or the perfect ranger or because he listened to him. He loved him because he was CHUCK.

So Herc may have done bad things and made bad decisions but he never did them for the wrong reasons. He did them to protect Chuck, protect Chuck from the programme, from the kaiju, from his own grief and pain.

So I love Herc because yeah he made mistakes but he knows that and everything he did was deep down, from a place of love.

And this (x) gif set I feel lays out the feelings that these two men go through really well. It's times that Chuck walks away from Herc and there are 3 distinctly different things occurring each time.

We focus on Herc the first 2 times that Chuck walks away because Chuck's emotions in both of those scenes are plain to see, he's angry with hurt coming in a close second. Herc's emotions are a little more detailed.

The first time you see the anger - the ranger. Chuck knows better, he was in the wrong in this circumstance, he shouldn't have been brawling like a child and Herc is angry from not just a parental point of view but as a co-pilot and a senior ranger.

The second time you see the disappointment - the father. The fact that Chuck is like this because of Herc, because he didn't do a good enough job as a parent, and he worries what Angela would think of the two of them now. He thinks that she'd probably hate him for making their son into this man. And he honestly doesn't recognise the man in front of him, because he can't equate him to the boy he knew and he knows that's on him.

But the last time the focus shifts and it's on Chuck because his emotions are important here, they aren't anger this time. Far from it. He doesn't want to turn away this time.

The emotion here is regret - its the son. He regrets not having been a better son, not having a better relationship with his dad, he regrets it all. And he knows that he's leaving Herc alone and that he hasn't done enough to fix the damage that is between them. Sure he's helped begin that healing, but he's about to go to his death and he can only hope that he's done enough that Herc won't think of him badly.

And obviously, we now have to address THAT (x) scene. Because this is it. This is the goodbye that neither of them got to have with Angela, and yet they can't say it. Because they are who they are and so we don't get the words "I love you" or "goodbye" no we get something that to these two men means so much more.

Because Herc tells him exactly what he needs to hear, he tells him that he's always loved him by saying "all the things" and Chuck for all that he's stubborn and emotionally stunted can see the pain and the hurt in his father's eyes.

They're probably still ghosting and Chuck will be able to feel all of it because when they're in a jaeger they probably push it all away because addressing that much emotion and anger would cause major RABIT. But here, now Chuck can feel it all.

And Chuck tells him that he knows and confirms to Herc that he doesn't hate him. Yeah, of course, he hates the things he's done and the way he made him feel, but he doesn't hate Herc, how could he, because his whole life he's wanted to be like him.

That's why he wanted to be the best because he saw Herc as the best and he just wanted to emulate that in the only way he knew how. And Stacker telling him that he is his father's son, it just put a balm on all of that pain and all the angry wounds.

Because Chuck achieved what he wanted to and someone acknowledged that, because Chuck knew how good his dad was and wanted to be that good a person and thats why he was so hurt. Because he saw that funhouse mirror version of himself and knew that he could never be that and then here is Stacker saying that he did. That he is.

And then Herc claims him. Tells him that he loves him and is proud of him and that he would give anything to trade places with Chuck or to be the man beside him in that conn-pod because there is no-one he would trust more to fight against and there is no-one that he would rather stand his last stand with.

And the pride here, that you can see how proud he is of Chuck. That Chuck says even his last moments Chuck is showing how much he respects Herc. Because he wants to be his dad and wants to make him proud and that pride is so clear here and it breaks your heart, because Chuck probably knew how proud Herc was in that moment but he never got to see it.

Which brings me finally onto Max. Because we all know as Rob says that Max was a way for Chuck and Herc to talk, because they couldn't talk, so any affection or emotion they show that dog is often the emotions they are showing to each other or how they feel about each other in that moment.

So we're introduced to Max the first time we really see the Hansens and Herc takes Max over to meet Raleigh and the group and Chuck stands there and calls back Max almost as soon as he possibly can.

And look at how he holds him, because Chuck wants to make it clear that Max is his and Raleigh and Mako can't have him and honestly I think it does reflect that Chuck doesn't want to share his dad, because he is his dad. His isn't Mako's or Raleigh's and sometimes Herc is more fatherly to the two of them than Chuck and he doesn't want to share and that shows here and in the way he holds Max through the scene in the mess hall.

And then you have the goodbye (x), because while Chuck doesn't say goodbye to Herc directly he says it to Max and you know that he's not saying it just to Max, because even without the direction that Guillermo gave of "Imagine you are kneeling before your father asking for forgiveness" you can see it in the way Rob delivers the scene.

Because Chuck is telling Herc that he's gonna miss him just as much as he's telling Max and he shows Max the physical affection that he can't show his dad, he's saying goodbye.

And the "Look after him for me" isn't just asking Herc to look after Max, because of course, Herc will look after Max, because he adores Max and it's the only thing he will have left of Chuck. He's telling Herc to look after himself because Chuck won't be around to anymore and he needs to be sure that Herc is gonna be ok when he's gone. Because he knows how Herc dealt with the grief of losing his wife how the hell is he gonna cope losing his son.

And I think that's why Rob's conversation with me hurt so much and I had to try so hard not to cry in front of him. Because of course if Chuck could in any way stay around to keep an eye on Herc he would. So that's why he's still in the drift, that's why he's still there.

Because he's just had Herc confirm that he loves him and respects him and is so so proud of him and he's basically just been given all the validation in the world. So, of course, his idea of paradise would be piloting Striker for eternity with his father by his side, so why would he not still exist in the drift?

[freebooter4ever]

programmer rant under cut

“For someone like Angela, learning all of this in 24 hours is next to impossible”

FUCKING. BULL. SHIT. And the fact that they gave this line to a WOMAN? Saying it to DARLENE (I LOVE darlene precisely because her profile doesn’t fit the typical coder. like ME when i was in that phase of life)? I’m gonna fight someone. I swear 90% of the time I love this show and then they do shit like this and it reminds me why I would have crying breakdowns on the regular in school. Because when you’re slamming up against a glass wall of people laughing at your attempts, it can feel ‘impossible’.  Like, ok the Sam Seppial alias is born in 1988 and Elliot claims to have started programming with web design and view source, so before flash became a big thing, so probably late 90′s, so middle school age, so his timeline for learning how to code and being introduced to this world matches mine almost exactly. And it was better than in the 80′s when literally my school had more ‘dave’s than women, but still I ran up against a lot of sexist bullshit. The only women who were immune to comments were the ones who blended in well with male geek culture, dressed that way, talked that way, just tried to completely erase the fact that they were different. Trenton is very different, her hijab sometimes has sparkles in it (I love the sparkles!), she likes feminine things like Darlene’s scarf! She has cares beyond the narrow minded programmer world, what with her speech about what fsociety means to her. No way did she never have some man look at her, sneer, and say ‘YOU are a programmer?’. I spent seven years in CSE, and I was STILL getting male assholes coming up to me and expecting me to be a ‘booth babe’ at conventions rather than a legit programmer (and they would grill me with questions and I’d have to smile and take it cause if you don’t they get even more mad). 

And to have Trenton rag on another woman who is trying to learn how to code???????? Fuck off with that crap. Especially when Angela is smart, resourceful, and worked at a cyber security company for a number of years even if it was on the public relations end, so she isn’t some computer illiterate grandma. Just watching the mobli dude try to show her how to do something was painful. already when she gets it wrong he’s like ‘ok lets do it again’ with a heavy sigh like its angela’s fault. like angela needs to know how exhausting it is being forced to teach someone like HER. when hey, maybe instead of repeating what isn’t working over and over, try to come up with a way of explaining that she gets? 

I’ve told this story before: where during the very first official computer science class I ever took I sat there while the professor put up preliminary courses and ‘cumulative final grades’ on the white board based on department. The CS department had an “A” average, the math dept had a “B”, the engineering dept a “C”, some bio class had a “D”, and then the lone art class had an “F” average. And he presented this like it was a joke. It was the first time the art department had ever offered a preliminary programming course. He had the whole class laughing at the idea that these dumb artists were going to try to be like us smart computer scientists in this class. And then he asked everyone to raise their hands and took count of the number of computer science kids in the class, the number who came from the math class...and so on. I think he wanted to prove that no one from the bio or art classes moved on to the next level. Because they didn’t have what it takes to be a Real Computer Scientist. And when he finally got to ‘art’ I remember raising my hand, in the very front row of the class, and smiling straight at him, dead serious no laughing. Everyone around me was laughing though, except for the professor. I think he honestly didn’t expect someone like me to be there. It was the most humiliating moment of my college career. Even just remembering it has me shaking like a leaf.

Later I went to the professor’s office hours, sat down one on one with him, informed him that while the art class average was an “F” I did in fact get a 100% “A”, and sweetly asked him what I needed to do to make sure I caught up to the class fast. He gave me a textbook (he was one of the good ones, if you tried, he really did care), and I read it cover to cover, and got a nearly 100% A in his class. Which given that this particular professor was known as a hard ass and well loved by the entire SCS for it, that A was BIG. then I met Sanjeev through my math concepts buddy. Sanjeev was one of the ‘math’ kids who also wanted to double in math and CS and who also got laughed out of the SCS dean’s office when he asked how to do this (his solution was to figure out what courses he needed, take them without permission, and then go to the SCS dean on his senior year and be like ‘give me my degree, i took all the classes’). Sanjeev and I then took every single one of that professor’s classes we could because he was the most difficult, most well respected professor in the entire university and if we made it there we could make it anywhere, got A’s on nearly all of my programming labs (the malloc lab being an exception which I am still bitter over and sanjeev thought was hilarious because its the only lab on which he got a better score than me despite me being a complete NERD for memory allocation). And STILL I had to repeatedly fight like hell to get spots in the SCS classes I needed to graduate. But by the end I was one of that professor’s favorite students, and sanjeev probably would have been too if he didn’t fall asleep in class so often. I like to think that me refusing to back down when the ‘real’ computer science kids tried so hard to belittle me and people like me, made it easier for that professor to be accepting of nontraditional students who came after me.

THIS is why my research project at my university was so important. We were trying to demystify learning to code, to make programming more accessible. To cut down that gap between who gets told that they’d be ‘good’ at programming and who gets told that it’s beyond their intellectual acumen. Trying to make programming literacy universal. It’s why we fought so hard to get more computer science classes in public schools, why we translated our IDE into so many different languages. All because one day in the 90′s my director was working at a public school in new york, and realized kids were struggling with a particular math concept, and that she had this program at her fingertips that could represent math visually, and that some of the kids learned a lot better when they had a visual goal to complete, like making a virtual ball bounce, rather than a long list of equations to solve. and then she took that idea to the king of VR during that time, and they started our project, which he would later go on to claim as his legacy because he too saw the importance of fighting for making computer science welcoming to ALL, not just the Elliots of the world. It’s kinda a different way of looking at revolution. fsociety wanted to take the power away from the white business men who held it, by using power thats been consolidated to people who had the time/resources/proper encouragement to learn coding and in a way / with a language that is as much about gatekeeping as the original source of power. but in recent years we’ve seen that these tech ‘geniuses’ can be equally as evil once they come into that power (doesn’t tyrell kinda make that point?). Education can broaden this knowledge and take away the reach of that power. thats why our current administration is so damn afraid of it and gives control over it to people like that dvos lady. 

If you tell a kid ‘you can do this’ they just might. If you tell a kid ‘this will be impossible for you’ they most likely will not. I would think the people in fsociety, ESPECIALLY Trenton, would understand that.