#my favorite dead married couple on acid

[not-the-living-ghost]

Progress pride flag made from the Dead Boy Detectives :)

[melefim]

Swearing in Dead Boy Detectives: Crystal Palace Surname-Von Hoverkraft

Overview:

115 curses total, 12 different words said in 8 episodes.

Episode 1: 2 Fuck, 2 Shit, 1 Ass, 4 God, 3 Jesus, 2 Screw

Episode 2: 6 Shit, 6 God, 1 Jesus

Episode 3: 4 Fuck, 6 Shit, 1 Bitch, 1 Ass, 2 Damn, 2 Hell, 3 God, 1 Jesus

Episode 4: 2 Fuck, 1 Shit, 1 Ass, 2 Hell, 1 God, 1 Jesus

Episode 5: 1 Fuck, 4 Shit, 4 God, 1 Pussy, 1 Dick, 2 Screw

Episode 6: 4 Fuck, 2 Shit, 1 Ass, 2 Hell, 3 God

Episode 7: 2 Fuck, 6 Shit, 1 Ass, 4 God, 1 Jesus, 1 Screw

Episode 8: 5 Fuck, 5 Shit, 2 Bitch, 7 God, 1 Jesus, 1 Prick

Curses Per Episode:

Episode 1: 14

Episode 2: 13

Episode 3: 20

Episode 4: 8

Episode 5: 13

Episode 6: 12

Episode 7: 15

Episode 8: 21

Uses Per Word:

Crystal’s favorite curse words are Shit and God, which she says 32 times each! In third place is Fuck, which she says 20 times.

Shit: 32

God: 32

Fuck: 20

Jesus: 8

Hell: 6

Ass: 5

Screw: 5

Bitch: 3

Damn: 2

Pussy: 1

Dick: 1

Prick: 1

Unique words:

Crystal and the Cat King are the only characters who say Pussy.

Crystal and Charles are the only characters who say Prick.

Crystal, Jenny, and Esther are the only characters who say Screw.

Crystal, the Cat King, and Twitchy Richie are the only characters who say Dick.

Percent of Total:

Crystal swears 115 times throughout the season, which is 35.9% of all cursing in the show.

Rankings:

Who Swears the Most: Crystal is in 1st place, with 116 times.

Most Curses in an Episode: Crystal holds 7 spots on the top 10 ‘Curses per Character per Episode’ list:

Curse Word Variety: Crystal comes in 2nd for swearing variety, with 12 different words used throughout the show.

Individual Words: She holds the top spots for usages of seven different words: Fuck (20), Shit (32), God (32), Jesus (8), Hell (6), Ass (4) and Screw (5). She is also tied for first for her unique word usages of Pussy (with the Cat King), Dick (with the Cat King and Twitchy Richie), and Prick (with Charles) one use of each.

Lines:

Episode 1: Oh my god, why can't I remember?

Episode 1: It's just a stupid fucking name.

Episode 1: Jesus, where did he go?

Episode 1: Oh, Jesus. I'm gonna wait in the bathroom until they leave.

Episode 1: Holy shit, did you take some of my memories? I don't have some screwed-up amnesia, you took them.

Episode 1: God! I just need a second, okay?

Episode 1: So maybe he's our fucking demon now!

Episode 1: God, I just want to take their heads and just crush them together, I am so mad!

Episode 1: Jesus, I am such an idiot.

Episode 1: Oh my god, I never even thought about the fact that they could still be alive.

Episode 1: Which was totally my bad and very screwed up and I should have told you everything.

Episode 1: Holy shit. (Edwin tells her about girl turned into small piece of plastic)

Episode 1: He's still a stalker, still an asshole. But I am going to get my memories back.

Episode 2: Ok, props for the like, Herculean-level effort, but vandalizing my shit isn't getting us anywhere.

Episode 2: Oh, shit. Sorry. (Almost runs into Niko)

Episode 2: Oh my god, holy shit! (Niko collapses)

Episode 2: God, I feel lonely too.

Episode 2: Jesus, you guys are like a dead married couple on acid.

Episode 2: Oh my God! Holy shit, how does today keep getting more disgusting?

Episode 2: God (After Edwin asks 'And were there any graves or decaying bodies near her in the woods?')

Episode 2: Oh my god, Charles back me up.

Episode 2: Oh, shit, uh... (Sees sprite-controlled Niko in butcher shop)

Episode 2: Oh my god, Niko! (Niko starts seizing)

Episode 2: Niko? Holy shit, your hair!

Episode 3: Holy shit, who knew this town was such a Mecca for troubled ghosts?

Episode 3: I just heard some people talking about it in the um, God, it was the… malt shop and it sounded super crazy.

Episode 3: What the actual fuck?

Episode 3: Jesus, I can't watch this again.

Episode 3: Just what the fuck is it?

Episode 3: So ok, if we figure out what sent that piece of shit dad over the edge, we can what? Free the family?

Episode 3: Good luck finding it now, asshole.

Episode 3: Where the hell did he go?

Episode 3: Thank god, there he is.

Episode 3: His dad was bad, Edwin. Royally fucked-up bad.

Episode 3: And if I have to hear that goddamn song one more time, I am gonna lose my shit.

Episode 3: Oh shit, yes.

Episode 3: Oh my god. Son of a bitch owned an electronics store.

Episode 3: Damn it, I know you choose the worst times to show up on purpose.

Episode 3: Go to hell.

Episode 3: I am done wasting my energy on your fuck-boy bullshit.

Episode 3: (Crystal we did it) Holy shit, we actually did.

Episode 4: Sorry, I've just been dealing with some shitty stuff with my ex.

Episode 4: God, it's driving me crazy.

Episode 4: What in the hell was that?

Episode 4: Jesus, she thought about it too, like she definitely knew something and then it was just riddle.

Episode 4: You fucked with my head, I'm gonna fuck with yours.

Episode 4: Niko- thanks for like, saving my ass today.

Episode 4: And I am tired of riddles and spirits and demons and not being any closer to finding out who the hell I am.

Episode 5: Holy shit! (Waking up from nightmare)

Episode 5: Oh god. Cash and condoms. Thanks.

Episode 5: Oh, no it's porn, it's all just porn. Oh my god.

Episode 5: Deep down, guys that make gay jokes are always the biggest pussies.

Episode 5: Because all nice guys give their girlfriends date rape drugs to screw with their future.

Episode 5: You walk around acting like the sun always shines, and then you lost your shit while beating the Night Nurse. Edwin and I are walking on eggshells around you instead of just saying 'what the actual fuck?'

Episode 5: I am really not sorry the world is short two toxic dickheads.

Episode 5: It's a really shitty thing to have in common.

Episode 5: Hey Jenny? Hey, what's with the fl- Holy shit.

Episode 5: No boy is screwing my life up.

Episode 5: I can't keep him out of my head. God, he just keeps coming, I don't… I don't know how to stop him. God, what if I can't?

Episode 6: What the hell? I have to pay my rent. I can't be a homeless person with a heart-shaped gem.

Episode 6: I want to keep this demon the fuck out.

Episode 6: God, I just want to be normal.

Episode 6: God, I feel totally useless.

Episode 6: So no, I didn't read the stupid tree! … Shit.

Episode 6: It's like he's fucking haunting me.

Episode 6: What the hell just happened?

Episode 6: I gave up my powers, OK? I got you out of my fucking head.

Episode 6: You can't get in anymore, asshole.

Episode 6: I am nothing special, So why don't you just leave me the fuck alone?

Episode 6: OK, enough uh, emotional bullshit.

Episode 6: Oh my God, are you guys OK?

Episode 7: Holy shit, you're still alive?

Episode 7: What kind of bullshit is that?

Episode 7: Jesus. You have never been to hell, stop acting like an expert. Look, when I got possessed, when I nearly ran off a cliff, when I screwed up and lost my powers, you both helped me.

Episode 7: God, Edwin is my friend too, whether he likes it or not.

Episode 7: God, if you really won't let me go, then I'll find my own way to Hell.

Episode 7: Fucking bullshit, like I can't help.

Episode 7: God, that's fucking insane.

Episode 7: Holy shit, Jenny. You shouldn't be here!

Episode 7: Just cut this shit!

Episode 7: These are mine, asshole.

Episode 7: Oh, bullshit. A good detective does what he has to in order to close the case.

Episode 7: God, I gotta figure out what I'm going to tell her.

Episode 8: Am I ever wrong about this shit?

Episode 8: My parents won't say shit, they don't even--

Episode 8: Jesus Christ! You guys scared me!

Episode 8: God, it's like being punched in the face and the stomach.

Episode 8: Yeah, well blame my parents. Holy shit!

Episode 8: Mom? Oh my God. Mom is that--

Episode 8: Maybe karma is just a bitch.

Episode 8: Oh, my God. Oh, I'm a fucking awful person. Oh, God, I'm the worst.

Episode 8: God, I was a bad person before him.

Episode 8: Because if you did, God, you'd hate me.

Episode 8: Oh my God, Jenny are you OK?

Episode 8: Shit! (digging Niko out of rubble)

Episode 8: Fuck! (Esther has the boys)

Episode 8: Because whatever fucked-up little thing you have going on with Edwin, you must care about him a little.

Episode 8: She probably put a, like, kill-you-instantly spell or some witchy shit on the door.

Episode 8: I am so sorry he was a colossal prick.

Episode 8: Hubris is a bitch, am I right?

Episode 8: I don't have to give up my new fucked-up life while I'm trying to sort out my old fucked-up life.

Notes:

Not Included:

Crystal flips Edwin off in the malt shop in episode 1.

Updated:

Added in top spots for usages of a couple words I missed.

Added in Twitchy Richie for unique usages of the word dick.

Added in a god I missed in episode 2.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

More Dead Boy Detectives Swearing Posts:

Masterlist

Swearing by Episode

Swearing by Character

Swearing by Word

All Swearing Posts

And if you like lists of things like I do, you can check out my other Dead Boy Detectives ones here!

When Charles’ Shirt Colors Change

George Rextrew’s Edwin comic inspo board

Full soundtrack with timestamps

Moves, Incidents, and Cases Masterlist

First pass at finding where the songs in the score are used- full post with timestamps in progress

[idontwanttospoiltheparty]

Re: your post about JohnandPaul. If you do wish to share them, I'd love to know your headcanons about John and Paul's feelings for each other. ( I do get your discomfort about sharing though and yeah, I also miss the long discussions and metas from back when Get Back came out. It feels like, except you and some others, most of my favorite blogs have moved on from the fandom)

I've been sitting on this ask for several days now.

First of all I hear you, re:blogs moving on. It's understandable, but it's also sad when my brain does not want to give this stuff up any time soon lol.

In my post I talked about having specific headcanons about their feelings for each other, but the truth is, it's more like I imagine hundreds of very specific somewhat plausible scenarios, while not actually fully buying into any of them.

I always struggle with how sure people are of some definite timeline of McLennon because I just don't see how it's in any way clear: the most compelling evidence that at least John had Those Feelings™ for Paul is stuff he said after the fact (compiled with the stronger case for John being attracted to men in general) – so, if I choose to interpret his words in that way, I'm still not very close to knowing when he developed this attraction. Let alone concluding anything substantial about Paul's feelings.

(And no, I really don't find the two of them saying the other looked good when they met particularly compelling. Appearance plays a huge role in first impressions, regardless of attraction.)

So I guess, it's more that I have open questions I return to again and again, for which I try to construct hypothetical answers that make sense to me. Aside from that bigger timeline question, here's a few more specific ones:

From what I've gathered researching the topic, listening to psychonauts speak about their trips, the acid mindset very much romanticizes all forms of human connection (among other things). I think that's probably what was going on during those "I know."–"I know." sessions John and Paul had on LSD. With that in mind, how might that have mixed in with John trying to understand how he felt about Paul? Could it have confused him? Opened him up to the idea? "Appeased" him for a while? (and again, the answer here would depend on the timeline of feelings in the end)

I still lean towards "Paul is not meaningfully attracted to men" (or at least "Paul valued other aspects of his relationship with John much more than physical attraction") – with that in mind I do kind of ask myself what Paul thought his relationship with John was exactly. Like, I don't pretend it was a standard, run-of-the-mill friendship, so I wonder a lot what his end-goal was, how he saw both of them continuing into later stages of life. The way he talks about the breakup, equating John choosing Yoko with John leaving Paul, speaks to something somewhat true about most couples that marry – but why did he not anticipate that before? What was different? Also, for $20 don't copout with "hurr hurr cause Cyn didn't matter"

Paul's various takes on The John Question continue to puzzle me. On the one hand, it sort of seems to me like Paul would have had enough context clues at the time to get that John was attracted to men, because some of our evidence for it is evidence he would have had access to – he also indicated at least once that John was in fact kind of openly bicurious??? (note: that rant keeps me up at night. Could write a whole thesis on it and also it's so fucking funny) On the other, Paul is pretty insistent that the rumours are Not True and he's not actually the only person to shoot them down like that. (May Pang, Julia Baird, Tony Bramwell, Hunter Davies off the top of my head) It shouldn't be a stretch of the imagination that a man born in the 1940s might have trouble rearranging the image he's made of his dead best friend so drastically (or in a way that might feel drastic to him). So what is it? Is Paul obfuscating the question to protect John's reputation/because he thinks the curiosity is in poor taste or does he genuinely not buy into it? I'm not actually sure whether he's weighed in on this since Yoko's "John Was BI!!!!" reveal. Has this stance developed over the years? And if I assume Paul does know about John's sexuality: does he in fact think John had feelings for him? I do think this is a thing he would never talk about if he did so it feels like there would be no way of knowing either way. But it also makes me wonder about the barriers he might have set up in his head to avoid that very question – because the truth is that if John had Those Feelings™ for Paul and Paul never knew, that's sort of the second-worst case scenario from Paul's perspective, right after John having never liked him in the first place.

AND THEN THERE'S JOHN. Because just because Paul may not have picked up on it, doesn't mean John wasn't putting anything down. But he could also very much have been sending mixed signals from his own end, right? And again, acid mindset + mid 60s Free Love shit: in that culture, how much could John making advances be perhaps taken as Flowery Friendship? Did he justify it to himself that way? Or was John actually violently shoving all of that down? Was he truly capable of that?

It really never ends – I'm not certain of ANYTHING, but give me a proposal (ie. "In My Life is about Paul") and I'll talk myself into circles exploring the ins and outs of that hypothetical.

[pop-punklouis]

ok here we go. some of my 5 star books from the last year or two 🫶🏽

A PLACE FOR US; fatima farheen mirza || contemporary literary fiction. exploration of family dynamics and faith. cannot recommend it enough if u enjoy either of those things in media. it’s one of my favorite books of all time but i do feel a responsibility to say only read it when u have time to sit and cope with it for a while. it WILL leave u a husk of a person! (if u read this and dislike it, you Must lie to me)

TRANSCENDENT KINGDOM; yaa gyasi || contemporary literary fiction. mommy AND daddy issues, dead sibling, arduous relationship with faith, a fair dose of the immigrant experience. not as taxing as the previous rec but definitely still an emotionally heavy read. i need to read it again soon actually i think it’s so stunningly written

BURNT SUGAR; avni doshi || contemporary literary fiction. what can i say about this book. what emotion didnt it make me feel. just the epigraph alone was enough to make me want to drown myself in a vat of acid. the cyclical relationship between mothers and daughters is so fucking sickening and the way it's depicted in this book... my god. i was so miserable reading it and i wouldn’t recommend it anyone who has mommy issues and hasn’t learned how to deal with them. if you dont have mommy issues... you might have them after reading this book who knows. but it’s still 10/10 from me

NINTH HOUSE; leigh bardugo || dark academia, fantasy. loser girl of all time who can see the dead is put in charge of keeping secret societies at yale university in check. a random girl gets murdered and all signs point to one of the societies being responsible. book 3 isnt out yet but it’s sooo yummy u will adore alex she’s my best friend (also has a sexy generationally wealthy white boy. i want to eat him)

THESE VIOLENT DELIGHTS; micah nemerever || dark academia, thriller. definitely one of the crazier books i’ve ever read. batshit insane. two boys develop a delicious friendship that devolves into the worst kind of codependency and results in them murdering someone to make sure they can’t ever replace each other in their lives. gay people can do anything except be normal.

GIOVANNI’S ROOM; james baldwin || classic literary fiction. i don’t think i need to say anything about this. it’s about realizing you don’t know u have a home until you leave it and once you’ve left you can’t ever go home. it’s about isolation—self-inflicted and otherwise. it’s just… everything. everyone should read it. everyone!

HAPPY PLACE; emily henry || contemporary romance. exes who pretend to still be together at their friend group’s annual vacation. i’m not typically a romance novel girl and not everything i’ve read of henry’s has done it for me but this one… i was giggling and twirling my hair. getting flustered and having to take a moment to collect myself. it’s so so good. i do believe it’s miss henry’s best work

THE ROUGHEST DRAFT; austin siegemund-broka & emily wibberley || contemporary romance. cowritten by a married couple about a cowriting duo that hasn’t written together in years. they haven’t spoken since but they’re contractually obligated to put out one more book together. didn’t make me giggle like happy place but i really enjoyed it

seed i love you so very much HELLO!!!! thank you. I've already written all of these down. i cannot wait to dive into their pages.

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Chapter 5

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

They’re sitting in the car outside her mother’s house, and she’s stalling.

“Are we going inside?” Ethan asks with a confused smile, and she nods wearily.

She’s been dreading telling her family. Well, not her mother; Mom will be thrilled, as will Bill. Charlie will act appropriately happy but doesn’t actually care that much. But Missy….Missy will see right through her. She always does.

They exit the car and make their way to the front porch, her stomach twisting in her gut all the way. Ethan knocks, casting her concerned glances intermittently. She knows she’s not playing the part of “recently engaged” very well. She’s told Ethan that it’s just nerves, and that she hates making big announcements, which is true. She’s still trying to convince herself that’s all it is.

The door swings open and Charlie greets them with smiles and quick hugs, and they make their way to the kitchen where Mom is still finishing up dinner.

“Grab some wine and take a seat,” she directs them as they each kiss her on the cheek, “Missy should be here any minute.”

She pours herself a very full glass of wine after asking Ethan if he can drive home, then plants herself in an armchair that only seats one. She’s been craving personal space lately.

Ten minutes later, Missy breezes in the door, giving Dana a skeptical glance; leave it to Missy to immediately pick up on something being off. They better get this over with soon.

They all sit down and say grace. Missy holds her left hand and she can feel the moment her fingers make contact with the ring. Missy yanks on her arm and gives her wide eyes as everyone else at the table thanks the lord for their daily bread. Dana glances at her briefly and then looks away. It will all be out in the open momentarily.

“Before we dig into this lovely meal Mom has prepared for us,” Ethan begins, “Dana and I have some news to share.”

Oh god, here it comes. Maybe the huge glass of wine was a bad idea.

“Am I gonna be an uncle, D?!” Charlie says excitedly, and both she and Maggie shoot him an unamused glare.

“Not just yet, Charlie,” Ethan says with a cautious smile. “Dana and I got engaged. We’re getting married!”

Dana holds up her left hand with a thin smile, and Maggie and Charlie both provide appropriately big, happy reactions complete with hugs and congratulatory slaps on the back. Missy raises her eyebrows and looks at her baby sister with a bemused expression.

“Oh, this is such happy news, I wish your father could be here,” Maggie says, clutching her hand to her chest. “We’ll have to call Bill and Tara after dinner.”

Dana forces bites of pot roast down her throat and avoids her sister’s eye for the following twenty minutes, then leaves Ethan and her mother to share the news with Bill as she escapes to the back porch. Charlie, as usual, finds his way to the couch with a beer.

She’s sitting on the steps of the porch, working on her second glass of wine, when she hears the creak of the screen door behind her. She doesn't need to look to know that it’s Missy; she can hear the swish of her flowy skirt and the jangle of her stacked bracelets. Missy sits down beside her and they are quiet for a few minutes, the dark night illuminated by a waxing crescent moon.

“Is this really what you want, Sis?” Missy asks in a tone that’s soft and concerned.

“Of course, Missy. Ethan and I have been talking about getting married for years,” she says, hoping it sounds more convincing than it feels.

“I know. But…” she trails off and sighs.

“But what?” Dana prods her.

“Look, Sis, Ethan is great. I love him, and he’ll make a great husband. I’m just not sure he’s the right one for you.” Dana can feel her sister looking at her in the dim light, but keeps her eyes on the blooming hydrangea bush at the bottom of the stairs.

“He’s a great guy, Missy. He’s kind, and generous, and he has a stable job. He treats me really well. There’s no reason NOT to marry him,” she offers, taking a big gulp of her wine. “Dad loved him, he’d be so happy to know we got married,” she adds.

Missy scoffs. “Two years underground and you’re still trying to please Dad?”

“He was cremated, Missy,” she replies deadpan, avoiding the point.

“Okay, so two years underwater, then. Doesn’t change the fact that Dad liking him isn’t a reason to marry someone. Neither is them being great husband material. The only reason to marry someone is because you want to marry them. Do you want to marry Ethan?” She can feel Missy’s eyes on her face.

“Yes,” she says in a weak voice, unwilling to elaborate.

Missy sighs. “Okay, if this is what you want, I’ll be here to help you in whatever way you need. But if you change your mind-”

“-I’m not going to change my mind, Missy,” she cuts her off.

“Well,” Missy continues, “whatever happens, I’ll be here. Thick and thin, right?”

Dana looks at her sister then, and smiles as they clasp hands. “Thick and thin.”

&&

The following week, she takes herself out for Sunday afternoon coffee to one of her favorite places near the apartment. She likes to go out alone for coffee or lunch sometimes, just to have some space to think. Lately, she’s been needing a lot of it. The cafe is bustling with the after-church crowd, which makes her feel guilty for not going to mass with her mother. It’s difficult to talk to Mom right now; all she wants to do is talk about the wedding, and that’s the last thing Dana wants to discuss. Ethan wants to get married soon, this fall, and the whole thing is so overwhelming she shuts down every time they try to talk to her about it. She wishes she could pause life for a while, until she can sort out her feelings.

“Fancy meeting you here,” she hears a familiar voice call from beside her, and she looks up to see Mulder, dressed casually in jeans and a grey T-shirt.

She smiles reflexively, the first time she’s felt a real smile tug at her lips in a week or more.

“Mulder, hi,” she says, genuinely pleased to see him. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, this place is right near my dealer’s house,” he responds, and flashes her that boyish grin at her shocked expression. “I was actually just checking out a record store around the corner and decided to grab some coffee. How are you?” The question feels so real, like he actually wants to know how she is. She doesn’t want him to leave.

“I’m well, would you like to sit down?” she says as she gestures to the empty seat across from her, pulling her hand back when she realizes that he’ll likely notice her ring. She surreptitiously slips it off her finger and tucks it into her pants pocket.

He sits, and she can’t help but take in the way his shirt hugs his broad shoulders, and the hint of defined pectorals underneath. He is a seriously good-looking man.

“So, whatcha been up to?” He asks, taking a sip from his to-go cup.

She should tell him the happy news that she’s gotten engaged, but she very much doesn’t want to.

“Not much, just cutting up dead bodies and teaching others how to do the same,” she responds dryly.

“Slicin’ and dicin’,” he says with a nod, and she feels a sense of relief at being able to make such a crass joke to someone who understands the kind of work she does.

“Exactly. How about you, working on anything interesting?” she asks, and never has a social nicety been more genuine.

“That depends on your definition of interesting, I suppose,” he begins, “we’ve got the face mutilator, the acid thrower, and the super-stabber, who you’re familiar with.”

“Quite the line up,” she retorts.

“I realize I didn’t get the chance to ask how you ended up at the Academy,” he inquires.

“Oh, um I was actually recruited out of medical school,” she replies, taking a sip of her coffee.

His eyebrows jump and he leans forward a bit. “You’re a doctor, then?” he asks, and she gauges only that he’s impressed, not surprised, which is a nice change of pace. People don’t seem to realize that it’s not a compliment to express disbelief that she, of all people, would be a medical doctor.

“Mmhmm, all pathologists are trained medical doctors,” she confirms with a nod.

“Your parents must be very proud,” he offers, and she makes a face.

“Not exactly. My father actually passed away a couple years ago, but he was less than pleased with my decision not to pursue medicine as a career. My mom is moderately more supportive, thankfully.”

She catches his eye and is surprised by the intensity of the look he’s giving her.

“I’m sorry to hear about your father,” he says as though he knew the man, and it catches her off guard a bit. She changes the subject.

“What about the X files, anything interesting happening there?”

“Well, no, given that they don’t exist anymore. You wanna hear about an old one I investigated?”

She nods emphatically.

“There was this team of researchers up in Icy Cape, Alaska. They were geophysicists, drilling ice core samples. They’d been up there a few weeks when there was an odd video communication received from one of the research team members saying “we are not who we are” before he shot himself in the head, then all communication went dark.”

“What happened to them?” Scully asks, leaning towards him. She’s immediately drawn in.

“Well, that’s what we went up there to find out; myself a physician, toxicologist and a geologist. When we got there, the whole crew was dead, only a dog that belonged to one of them survived. He appeared to be rabid, and he attacked me and our pilot. When we examined the dog, he had these black nodules on his skin.”

“That sounds like a symptom of bubonic plague,” Scully offers.

“That’s what Dr. Hodge thought too. Anyway, the pilot ended up getting infected as well, and we had to restrain him and remove this worm-thing from his neck. He died immediately after we removed it.”

“A worm-thing?” Scully asks, “what was it?”

“I’m still not entirely sure. The geologist found an ice core sample that was probably over 250,000 years old, and I think the worm came from the ice. Some kind of prehistoric parasite that overtakes its host. We eventually figured out that to kill it, you have to introduce a second worm into the host, and they’ll destroy each other.”

“Why haven’t I ever heard about this? It seems like the kind of discovery that would make the news, at least in the science community,” her mind is reeling, now with excitement.

“Well, that’s the thing. After we were evacuated, they destroyed the drill site and all the evidence.”

“They?” she inquires. “Who is ‘they’?”

Mulder smiles knowingly and she has the overwhelming urge to touch him.

“That’s the million dollar question, Scully. That’s what the X files sought to answer. Who, or what, is behind the mass coverup of information that would prove the existence of extraterrestrial life?” He says it so casually, like it’s the most irrefutable fact in the world instead of some half-cocked conspiracy theory.

“Huh,” she sits back in her chair. “Are there a lot of cases like that one? In the X files?”

Mulder’s mouth quirks, and she can tell that he’s pleased by her interest in his old work.

“Hundreds, though I only have about fifty in my possession. I took the juiciest ones, of course.”

“What else is there? Tell me about another one,” she asks unabashedly. She’s fascinated.

Mulder looks at his watch and makes a face. “I wish I could, but I have a prior engagement. I have them stored at my apartment, I could show you sometime, if you’d like. Do you like cats?”

Her eyebrows lift. “Is there an X file about cats?” she asks, and he laughs.

“No. Well, actually yes, but I’m asking because I have a cat. You aren’t allergic, are you?”

“Oh, no,” she says as she feels her cheeks warm.

He reaches into his wallet and hands her his business card. “Give me a call, or shoot me an email. I’ll show you what the FBI doesn’t want you to see,” he punctuates this with a wag of his eyebrows as he stands. “It was really good to see you, Scully,” he says with an earnest look, those eyes seemingly seeing right through her.

She swallows hard. “You too, Mulder,” she replies, and watches him walk out the cafe door.

She looks down at the business card in her hands:

Fox W. Mulder

Criminal Behavioral Analyst

Behavioral Science Unit

She wonders what the W stands for. She wonders why she cares.

[ickle-ronniekins]

temptations

request from nonnie!! “Hi! I loveeee your writing, you’re absolutely amazing! I had a dream recently that i was hoping I could request?? A Georgexreader where they’re dating and the readers love language is touch & affection. Then one day she overhears George saying how irresistible she must find him or something obnoxious like that? So for revenge she completely stops touching him and showing any affection. Maybe a frustrated George in result??? Or something similar? :) Thank you!!”

pairing: george x gryffindor!reader

word count: 3.4k

A/N: this was such an adorable request and one i very much enjoyed writing; i don’t believe i've ever had a request like this one so i was very excited to write it! i didn’t mean for it to be so ~thirsty~ but shoutout to my discord babes -- the thirstiest chat of all has resulted in this story, so thank you! hope you guys enjoy, please leave feedback and reblog if you so please x

tag list: @mintlibri @georgeweasleyx @seppys-return-to-madness @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @darling-details @laneygthememequeen @lupinsx @keoghans @helloallthethingsilove @waschbiber @dreamer821 @feffffffy @the-hufflepuff-of-221b @62442-am @wtfweasleyy @obsessedwithrandomthings @thoseofgreatambition @harrysweasleys @sleep-i-ness @shadowsinger11 @shadychaoticcollection @haphazardhufflepuff @afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff @hood-and-horan @letsfightsomeorcs @theweasleysredhair @purpleskiesstorm @hxfflxpxffs @wand3ringr0s3 @finecole @angelinathebook @highly-acidic @purplefragile @90shermione @zreads @susceptible-but-siriusexual @parker-potters | message me to be added, loves

Being George Weasley’s girlfriend came with loads of things you couldn’t seem to get enough of -- endless laughter, playful teasing, witty banter, consistent hugging. Snogging. Cuddling. Mostly in private, of course, so as not to annoy those around you with your PDA. But there were always small, shared kisses in the corridors, tight embraces after Quidditch matches. Your fingers would interlock with his during feasts, or you’d place your head on his shoulder in the common room. But you tried to save most of this for just the two of you. So the second you were alone, it was pretty difficult to keep your hands off of one another.

Fred was always calling you an “old, married couple”.

But you wondered now, as George slipped his hands under your shirt, spread his hands out against your ribcage, and moaned against your mouth, if old married couples acted like this.

“Love?”

“Mhmm?” you mumbled, barely breaking from him, not even giving him a chance to speak. You locked your arms around his neck and tightened your embrace. He just laughed against you and ran his hands delicately against your skin. It was almost immediate that goosebumps had appeared.

It wasn’t always like this, though. Not in the beginning, at least. You hardly let yourself even hold his hand, worried that you wouldn’t be able to control yourself. You were embarrassed by just how much you craved his touch -- whether it was just his fingers intertwined with yours, or something a little more -- the intensity of your feelings terrified you. You found yourself jolting awake in the middle of the night and swinging your arms to the other side of your bed, only to be disappointed when you realized, in your groggy state, that he was across the common room and not in the bed next to you, with his limbs entangled with yours.

You restricted yourself from feeling too much. What would he say? You didn’t want to scare him. You didn’t want to come off as one of those people, give yourself a bad rep before even really having been able to create one. You also, if you were being honest, found yourself to be a bit worried that if you immediately handed yourself over to him, George would take it, and leave.

But even all this time later, George had proven himself to be a gentleman, and you scolded yourself for ever thinking he could’ve been anything different than exactly that.

He pulled away from you now, squeezing your hips and checking his watch. “We’re going to be late,” he said flatly.

You frowned. “You’re absolutely sure we’ve got to meet Lee in Hogsmeade? Now?”

He laughed at you and began to button the top of his shirt. “Unfortunately, and I mean that truly, darling -- yes, I’m sure we’ve got to meet Lee in Hogsmeade, considering I’ve canceled on him the last three times.”

You groaned. You and George hadn’t really had a ton of alone time the last few weeks, as your studying had increased and your homework piles began to resemble that of mountains -- plus, with excitement of their shop soon opening up, George was busy with Fred, putting the final touches on every single one of their products. It was sheer luck when you both were able to find even five minutes to spend together.

George noticed the change in your expression as you thought on this; he pressed another gentle kiss to your lips and then one to your temple. “Promise to make it up to you later tonight,”

“I’m holding you to that, you know.”

“And if I disobey?”

The words alone set you aflame, but you resisted the very strong urge to pull him back into you. A comment like that would normally send you into a complete and dizzying overdrive. He knew it, too -- the sensual smirk that appeared ever so slightly on his lips told you exactly what he was thinking.

You swatted him playfully with your hand. “Oh shut up, Weasley.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Ugh,” you groaned again while he fell into a bit of laughter. He was always acting like a git. You supposed it was a good thing that he was so cute. You pushed him away from you and jumped off of your bed in the desolate girls’ dormitory. The tension was still hanging in the air; next to you, fixing his tie as if he were off to a business meeting, George just shrugged gently, playing off the entire exchange. You rolled your eyes, “If you’re going to be a prat, then you at least owe me a drink.”

-- -

“Mate, I’m telling you, I must be irresistible to her or something.”

His voice was relaxed, smooth. You stopped dead in your tracks right outside the empty Transfiguration classroom, where Fred and George were both fiddling with their inventions. You wanted to surprise George right after you finished your lesson -- you were dying to get some alone time with him, especially after having spent your disaster of an afternoon in those dreary dungeons with Professor Snape, who’d scolded you due to your potion, which he’d deemed ‘mediocre at best’. But instead, you stopped where you were, leaned closer to the door, and listened.

“Oh yeah?” You could practically hear the smirk that was, no doubt, growing on Fred’s face. He continued with a laugh, “How so? Y/N yanking you into broom cupboards more often than not?”

By the tone of George’s voice, you could imagine exactly how this exchange must have looked: Fred, eyebrows raised and lips formed in a thin smirk as he waited for more information; George, chest puffed and arms folded across it, his air of confidence engulfing the room entirely. “I’m not that much of a prat. Some things I’ve got to keep to myself, haven’t I?” At least he’s being smart, you thought. You appreciated that he at least wasn’t divulging the very intimate details of your relationship to his brother. “All I’ll say is that she can’t keep her hands off of me.”

Both boys ended up snickering like two young kids. You knew it was harmless; they were two of the most genuine blokes you knew -- they meant nothing of it. It was all innocent. But still, you found yourself feeling a bit embarrassed. Your entire body suddenly felt very hot, and not in the way it felt when you were alone with your boyfriend. Was George really going to be that self-righteous? Well, you’d show him, wouldn’t you?

Instead of turning inside the classroom to greet your best mates like you’d planned, you turned on your heel and headed quickly in the direction of your common room, hellbent on making the next few days of George’s life ones he’d certainly never forget.

-- -

You felt different. Strange. Exposed, even. But you reckoned it was worth it if it taught your silly boyfriend a lesson he desperately needed to learn.

You slid yourself next to him on the bench in the Great Hall, but he didn’t look up from his parchment right away, and you didn’t prompt him too. Instead, he finished scribbling something on a bit of parchment, smirked and said, “There’s my favorite girl. How’s your morning?”

You began to pour yourself a bit of tea and mumbled, “Just fine.”

When he looked up, his eyes immediately widened at the sight of you. It was rude of you to do what you were doing, you knew that, but he deserved it after what he said. He deserved it after acting like a git.

You didn’t meet his gaze, but you were quite certain he was eyeing you up and down, something you were used to since you began dating him. But this, you dressing this way -- this was blatant. This was done purposefully. So to feel his eyes wash over you in this moment felt sort of fraudulent. He immediately began to snake his fingers around your waist. “Well good morning to you, too.”

You shrugged him off and giggled slightly. You knew it would work. You knew it as soon as you’d looked at yourself in the mirror this morning -- the exposed strap of your bright red, lace bralette, the tight knot you’d tied at the bottom of your shirt to expose a bit of your skin at your hipline, just above the top of your skirt -- it was just enough to keep you from going too over-the-top and getting into any type of trouble, but enough to get his attention. Enough to make him sweat.

“George, we’re in public!”

“You’re the one who dressed like you want me to rip it all off of you right now.”

“Our professors are literally sat at the other end of the hall. You do know this, yes?”

After you’d wriggled free of his grasp, he figured he’d try something different -- he leant in, pushed a piece of hair behind your ear, and tried to press his lips to your neck, but stopped just before he did so.

“Bloody hell, woman, are you joking? What are you wearing?”

You shrugged casually, as if it didn’t really matter. “Angelina and Katie bought me this perfume for my birthday. Haven’t ever really worn it before. You like it?”

He scoffed a bit, and you knew you had him wrapped around your finger. It was clearly evident in the way he breathed so heavily into your ear. “Like it? Yeah, darling, you could say that,”

Of course he did. He was mad for it. You had worn it once before, actually, on your fourth date. Things had seemed to escalate a bit quickly that evening. You’d then pocketed this perfume for moments when you’d really need it. Today seemed as good a day as any.

“Anyway,” you breathed, grabbing a piece of toast to-go, “have got to run. Want to get there early for my Dark Arts lesson. Meet up with you later?”

You stood up from your spot and swung your bag across your shoulder; George grabbed your wrist gently and pulled you closer to him. “Mmm, think we can sneak away for a bit?”

“You’re sweet,” you replied, bringing a hand to his cheek and stroking his jawline swiftly with your thumb, “but I don’t think so. Have got loads of assignments I’ve to finish tonight -- plus, you and Freddie have to continue working on your products, yeah?”

You turned on your heel and marched out of the hall -- and just as you expected, he was right on your tail. Once you were out in the corridor, George grabbed your hand and twirled you around, a pained expression on his face. Bingo. “What d’you mean ‘I don’t think so’?” He brought his hands to your cheeks and gently caressed your jawline. He teased, “Aren’t getting sick of me, are you?”

Ugh. You were using every ounce of your willpower not to pull him into you; once again, the craving that overtook you felt incredibly intense. You forced yourself to slowly guide yourself away from him. “Sick of you? Of course not, love. I’ve just been thinking -- I’ve been so busy being all over you lately --” you smirked at how rigid his body went at these words, and you continued on sweetly, “--I’ve realized that I really do need to get a handle on some of my assignments, you know? Have got to get my hands off of you at some point, or another.”

You noticed his jaw clench. “Ah -- I see what this is. Heard me and Freddie chatting the other day, did you?” He threw his hands up in surrender, “Alright, I’m a right git, shouldn’t have said it -- I’m sorry, and I love you. Now can I please kiss my girlfriend?”

Just as he leant in, the bell rang out, signaling five minutes until the start of the first lesson. George groaned very audibly, earning himself looks from passersby. He threw his hands into his pockets and leant against the wall, looking grouchy. You giggled to yourself and pulled your cardigan tighter around your shoulders. “You don’t need to apologize.” You inched closer toward him, ran a hand through his bright red hair, and whispered, just barely grazing his lips, “I love you, too.”

And you swept yourself down the corridor and into your Dark Arts classroom without an embrace, without a snog, without anything, and you were most certain (and proud) that you’d left the most cheeky boy in the entire school completely and utterly breathless.

-- -

It had only been six hours since George was knocked off balance at the sight of you -- but without the hand holding, the embraces, the kisses against your skin -- to him, it felt like bloody weeks.

He supposed, as he watched you practice non-verbal spells and earn yourself tons of praise from Professor Flitwick, that he probably shouldn’t have said what he’d said to his brother. He was just teasing, anyway. He knew he didn’t hurt your feelings -- you had thick skin, thicker than him, even. But apparently he’d poked you enough that you now wanted to poke back, and he was paying the price for it.

When he tried on his own to work on some non-verbal spells and failed miserably, Fred began to laugh quite haughtily. “Not feeling frustrated, are we, George?”

George knew what he meant -- not frustrated about spells, of course. But about other things. He hadn’t realized how much he craved your touch, too, until he couldn’t have it. Until you began withholding it just this morning. He wondered how long he could really last. He found himself getting lost in his thoughts, and his mind almost always wandered to his dormitory, you pinned beneath him giggling like mad, him pressing kisses to your neck. The temptation circulating through his veins was strong. He really needed to snap the hell out of it.

Fred, still laughing, groaned in pain after earning himself a nice elbow jab to the ribs from George.

But it wasn’t just the snogging, or being alone with you with his hands wound tightly around your waist. He missed the small things, like being able to hold your hand in the corridors, gently placing his fingers on the small of your back to guide and steady you through the portrait hole, being able to run his hands through your hair when he was sat next to you during lessons. He missed all of that, and it hadn’t even been one bloody day!

You’d said something to him when you’d first started dating, something about love languages. He didn’t really know much about it, but he found himself becoming incredibly intrigued when you’d begun explaining it. You’d been perched against a tree near the Black Lake, practicing simple Charms as you’d studied for your upcoming exams.

“Sorry -- a what?”

“Your love language,” you’d said casually, adjusting yourself in his arms. You’d explained to him that each person’s love language was what they craved most in a relationship. George didn’t really know his, but he’d been excited to find out. You told him yours was touch and affirmation.

“Oh,” he’d laughed, beginning to tickle you near your stomach, “you mean like this?”

You’d both spent the rest of the afternoon on the grounds, discussing things and snuggling closer together. That was the very first time Fred had referred to you both as an old, married couple. George never let on to how very much he enjoyed that. It was then decided, after much conversation, that George’s top love language seemed to be words of affirmation. Or, so he thought.

But now, leaving Charms, as you wiggled your fingers at him and fled down the opposite end of the corridor to your next lesson, he reckoned he was probably wrong.

Maybe his love language was physical touch, too.

-- -

You were struggling to make it through the week, to say the least. Dramatic, yes, but true. You couldn’t believe this bloody plan of yours -- you should’ve just ignored the comment and carried on as usual, because you today’s lessons felt like an entire month’s worth.

Hopefully George would learn his lesson soon, so you could tug him away and snog him for hours again without him making some silly, childish comment.

Apparently, he was feeling the same way, because at the end of the day, you found him poring over a bit of parchment in the common room, looking positively woebegone.

You two hadn’t embraced, kissed, held hands or anything of the like in nearly seven days. To say you were both going mad was a severe understatement.

He pulled at his hair, looking incredibly frustrated. But his facial expression softened when he looked up and saw you -- his eyes lightened and his face flushed pink, and his smile was relatively bright for someone who looked absolutely exhausted.

“Hi,” he said, not getting up from the armchair.

“Hi,” you echoed him, taking a place on the couch across from him.

The whole layout of the scene was rather dramatic.

“How were the rest of your lessons?”

“Just fine. And yours?”

You were both making silly, stupid small talk, but it was obvious to you both (and the world) that all you wanted to do was kiss one another. Which was normal, wasn’t it? And what was more worth it, you thought -- that, or your bloody pride?

“This is killing me, you know.”

You crossed your arms and smirked at him. He flung his parchment onto the table and made his way toward you. He placed himself down next to you -- not close enough to touch, but closer than you’d both been all day. He let his head fall back dramatically onto the couch and grinned at you. “Glad you’re learning your lesson.”

“Don’t tell me you don’t miss it.”

“Dunno,” you said sarcastically, fiddling with the edge of your skirt, “maybe you’re not as irresistible as you think.”

He groaned and rolled his eyes. He inched closer to you, though. “That’s mean.”

“Maybe it’s what you deserve.”

An evil sort of smirk tugged at the edges of your lips, and he playfully went to poke you in your ribcage, but stopped himself. You both laughed a bit, and he took a deep breath, and started. “I was a git.”

“Yeah,” you replied flatly, “but, to make it up to me, you’ve now got to endure massive amounts of teasing in the foreseeable future.”

Slowly, trying to read your expression, he reached out and began running his pointer finger along the arm of your cardigan -- the most touch you two had seen in days. It sent a spark through your entire body. Again, dramatic, but truthful. He let his hand fall next to yours, both of your pinky fingers touching ever so slightly. “You know,” he began, tracing light circles on your hand, “you’re pretty irresistible, too. Even without all of this going on.” You knew what he meant. The bralette strap, the exposed skin, the lipstick you’d been putting on, the perfume you’d been wearing. The withholding of everything he so desired. “I love you just the way you are.”

His voice had never sounded genuine, and you allowed yourself to gently jab him in the stomach, earning yourself laughs from him. “Wow, Georgie, going soft on me? That was the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.”

He frowned at you dramatically.

“Told you -- teasing in the foreseeable future. ‘m going to take what I can get, love.”

You guessed that he took your sweet smile as an opening, because he reached out and ran a hand through your hair. “Can I bloody kiss you now?”

A sigh of relief escaped the both of you. “Yes,” you said, leaning in. But before his lips touched yours, you pulled away, bit your bottom lip, and wiggled your eyebrows at him. “Irresistible, huh?”

“Never going to hear the end of that one, am I?”

“Nope.”

You felt revitalized when he pressed his lips to yours; sure, it had only been a week or so, but a week too bloody long. You loved the feeling of his hands wound around the back of your neck, the way your fingers danced delicately on his chest or in his hair. How you two had managed this long was beyond you, but you were glad this was over.

Just then, Fred and a few others hopped through the portrait hole and waved to the two of you. Fred noticed how close together you were, rolled his eyes teasingly, and called, “There’s the old, married couple. Things back to normal now, I reckon?”

George swiped his thumb across your cheek and pulled you into him. But you had other ideas. Cheekily, you winked at your boyfriend and called to your best mate, “Oi, Freddie! You’ll never guess what George just said about me.”

[doing-all-write]

you’re out

Pairing: Joe Mazzello x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your favorite past time is roasting Joe about how much the Yankees suck. So, when you go to a Yankees game with him and make a bet about whether they’ll win or not, you can’t help but hope that maybe, just maybe, they’ll win so Joe can do whatever he wants to you. 

Word Count: 5K

Warnings: SMUT (don’t interact if you’re under 18 please!), swearing, mentions of alcohol, continuous talk of how much the Yankees suck (they do, I’m sorry, I don’t make the rules!!!!). 

A/N: Hello, hi, hey, anyone else bummed there isn’t any baseball to watch?? No?? Just me?? Alright, well, have soft, baseball loving Joe to fill the void in your heart. (and once again, thank you to @diasimar​, @fairestkillerqueenofall​ and @mrhoemazzello​ for their contributions and for being in horny/yearning hell with me all day every day)

💖As always, likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💖

"NO!" 

"HA! See, that's why the Sox are the best team in the league right now and the Yankees, well, the Yankees, they suck." She took a long pull of beer as Joe’s string of curses were muffled by the material of his Yankees cap.   

Slapping him on the back, she raised her hand to get the bartenders attention. Her friend, Dylan, nodded back and slid two tequila shots down the bar toward them, not even bothering to hide their laughter at Joe, who had fully slumped over the bar and was letting his forehead bounce lightly against the wood. 

Pushing one liquid gold shot toward Joe, she pulled her own closer, watching a droplet of water fall over the edge of the lime's rind into the glass.

"C'mon Mazzello. Buck up. It's just the Yankees fifth loss of the season. Which means they’ve secured their status as the most suck-tastic team in the MLB." Smirking, she threw her shot back, quickly bringing the lime to her mouth and biting down on soft flesh, the sting of acidity biting back as she licked her lips, making sure she got every bit of salt from them. 

Watching (Y/N) lick her lips was the only thing that was enough to make Joe stop feeling sorry for himself and start feeling a different emotion. 

"Can't you have some sympathy for a mourning man? I'm dying over here. I'm slowly being killed by the thing I love most." He wasn't quite sure if he was referring to the Yankees or the more than friends feelings that he'd had for (Y/N) since the moment he’d met her. 

And her boyfriend. 

But the boyfriend was out of the picture (She'd swanned into his apartment one day, already monologuing, "So, I dumped Mitch. He told me once we got 'serious', my career would need to take a back seat so I left him, and our relationship, in the back seat of the Uber we were in.") and Joe felt like he needed to take his chance before someone else came into the picture. 

Laughing, she reached her hand up to the Sox cap she wore, twisting it around so the brim was facing towards the back.  

Joe almost choked at the action.  

"Joe, if you don't take that shot right now I'm calling the cops because I'm pretty sure that's alcohol abuse to leave a perfectly good free shot sitting in front of you." Dylan raised an eyebrow as they finished wiping down the last glass they had pulled from the crate they'd brought from the kitchen.

Ripping his gaze from (Y/N)'s form, he hurriedly threw it back, scrunching his face up in an exaggerated fashion as the burn of the alcohol streaked down his throat and warmed his stomach. Popping the whole lime slice in his mouth he heard her laugh,

"Joe! God, how many times do I have to tell you that you don't have to put the whole lime in your mouth?" 

"When you stop laughing every time I do it." He admitted as he delicately placed the mangled husk of said lime on his napkin. Dylan shuddered as they touched the very edge of Joe's napkin to let it fall into the trash can behind the bar.  

Shaking her head, she swiveled in her chair to face Joe, "So. I have a proposition." 

Please let it be that she things we should be together forever and get married. Or that she proposition me for sex. Either one. 

"You know how I scored those tickets to the Yankee's/Sox's game for next week?" 

Shaking himself from the imagery of shoving a piece of wedding cake in (Y/N)'s face, Joe nodded, taking another gulp of beer. 

"Well....since you're my best friend who I love dearly," she placed a hand on his thigh, smiling, and Joe knew he would do whatever she wanted. 

"I was thinking we could make it extra interesting." Her heart was racing at just the small action she had accomplished. Feeling Joe's thigh muscle tighten as she laid her hand on it made something deep in the pit of her stomach tighten as well.

Since she'd broken up with Mitch it freed her up to do things she'd always wanted to do. To focus on her career, her friendships, herself and on the fact that she wanted her best friend, Joe Mazzello, to absolutely wreck her in the bedroom. 

The first time she'd envisioned it, she'd almost drained the new pair of batteries she'd put in her vibrator and since then she'd been falling without a parachute. The only thing that kept her from ripping the cord was the fact he was her best friend. They spent all their time together, what if it went wrong? It was a silly fear, she knew if anything were to happen they’d work through it like they always did, but it still bugged her that something so trivial was stopping her from potentially jumping into the best relationship she'd ever had. 

Besides, she'd do anything for Joe and she knew he’d do anything for her. They'd picked each other up from the airport, taken care of each other when they were sick or hungover and once Joe had plant sitted for her. 

(The key word there being once. She'd come back to all of them dead. "Joe...they're succulents. How do you kill those?")

She was nervous the fantasies she'd cooked up in her head would never live up to the reality that was in front of her, but recently she'd noticed little things that were starting to embolden her. 

Lingering gazes, holding on for a second too long during hugs. Once, it had been late, and they'd pulled apart from a hug only for their eyes to lock. Her breath caught as the thought oh god it's actually happening flitted through her mind, but Joe just gave her a gentle nudge toward the door urging her to get into bed as soon as possible. 

But, she was nervous that she was reading too much into these signs. 

If (Y/N) had been able to read minds she would have been very confused to see Gwil in his "I Want To Break Free" get up but it was Joe's surefire way to get rid of an erection and with (Y/N)'s hand so close on his thigh, he knew he needed to do something desperate to settle himself down.

Bringing herself back to the feel of Joe's thigh under her hand, she peered up at him through her eyelashes and shot him a smile, "I think we should place a bet." 

"A bet?"

"Yes, Joseph. A wager. On this ball game."

"Alright, what are the terms?" Joe leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the way the sleeves of his t-shirt stretched against his biceps. She swore he bought his shirts a size too small just to fuck with her. 

"Well, if the Yankees lose, which they will because they suck," Joe made an indignant noise in the back of his throat, "then you have to do anything I want."

Joe's eyebrows almost shot into his hairline, "And if the Sox’s lose? Which they will," he declared pointing a finger in (Y/N)'s face, causing her to lean back in her chair, batting his finger out of her face, "then you have to do anything I want." Crossing his arms behind his head he settled back into his chair, smug smile firmly planted. 

"It's so on, Mazzello." She declared as she stuck her hand out for him to shake. As his hand slid into hers, she could have sworn they both held on for a beat longer than was absolutely necessary. 

~~~

In (Y/N)'s opinion it wasn't really summer till she went to a baseball game. The artificial green of the grass, the sun shining down, the crack of a baseball hitting a bat. There wasn't a scent more intoxicating than that of popcorn, hot dogs and cheap beer. 

Which was probably why Joe had sent some serious side eye her way as she filled her lungs and drank in the scene before her, settling into their seats, hands clasped around flimsy plastic cups filled with overpriced alcohol.  

"What? You don't love the smell of a ball game?" she shot him an incredulous look.

"No, I do. But I don't try to inhale the whole stadium through my nostrils." 

Reaching a hand around she knocked his Yankees hat off his head, laughing as he scrambled to pick it up and jam it back on his head. Turning, she saw he had his best scowl prepped as he glared at her, 

"How dare you try to knock the best good luck charm the Yankees have off my head?" 

"Because I need my bathroom cleaned and I want you to do it." she shrugged as she took a sip of what was mostly foam. Gotta love baseball beer.

"I can't even be that mad at you because you did bring me to a baseball game that my team is going to whoop your teams ass in so, thanks, (Y/N)." He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, bringing her into his side as she leaned a head against him, smiling and wanting to  stay in that position for as long as possible. 

"Oh, you two are just the cutest couple! Reminds me of myself and Harold at our first baseball game." 

Both their heads turned in perfect unison to look at the form of a woman cautiously making her way down the stairs, cane in one hand, her grandson holding her other arm and mouthing I'm sorry at them over her head.  

Laughing self-consciously, (Y/N) started to disentangle herself from Joe's embrace, "Oh. Ah. That's really not-"

"Thank you ma'am, that's really sweet of you. Were you and Harold married a long time?" Joe interjected, keeping his arm firmly wrapped around (Y/N)'s shoulders.

Stopping in the middle of the aisle, the woman’s eyes grew soft, "Oh yes. We were friends for the longest time until finally one day he kissed me on the cheek. I remember I turned to him as he turned bright red and looked ready to melt into the floor. But I just told him 'It's about damn time!' And planted one on him myself." She laughed at the memory as her grandson rolled his eyes,

"C'mon Grandma. Let's get to our seats. The first pitch is gonna be thrown soon." 

Waving goodbye, they watched the woman toddle down the stairs. Lifting one thigh and then the other, (Y/N) felt her skin unstick and prayed to god she wouldn't have butt sweat once this thing was over. 

"That's cute. But also it sounds like she was a huge hussy back in her day." 

Snorting, she slapped Joe in the chest, "Really, Joey? You're going to call a sweet old lady a hussy for sharing a cute story about her and her husband?" 

"I'm just calling 'em like I see 'em!"

"And that old woman is a hussy?"

"She's the one throwing herself at men!" Joe protested as he tried to hold back his laughter. Soon, they both were laughing so hard no noise was coming out, just their whole bodies shaking with mirth.  

"Okay, okay...oh my god. I will give her credit, that's a very sweet story." (Y/N) admitted as she leaned back in her seat, adjusting her own lucky Sox hat.

"It is. I've always liked being friends with someone first before dating them." Joe admitted as he slid his eyes over to meet (Y/N)'s. Staring back at him, she felt her heart stop as his gaze burned into hers. Nodding, she mumbled, "Yeah, me too."

His lips twitched upward as he broke the gaze and leaned back in his seat, throwing one arm over the back of her chair and propping his foot up on the seat in front of him, "I think it's gonna be a great ball game."

She could only nod mutely as she tried to pick up the scattered fragments of her thoughts. 

~

"C'mon. Go. GO. GOGOGO. DROP IT...AHH FUCK." Her head dropped into her hands. She was so sure that the hit the last batter had was going to be the one that got the Sox the win but the Yankees outfielder had just managed to snag it.     

Beside her, Joe was on his feet, pumping his fists in the air and cheering along with every other Yankees fan in the stadium causing the floor to rumble underneath her Converse. 

"C'mon (Y/N), you're missing the best part!" Joe laughed as he tugged on the back of her shirt. Lifting her head up she was met with confetti raining from the sky and Frank Sinatra crooning "New York, New York" over the stadium speakers as the crowd started to flood out of the ball park. 

"You're an insufferable bastard."

"Yeah but I'm your insufferable bastard." Joe cooed as he patted her head, snickering as she rolled her eyes and dodged out from underneath his patronizing hand. 

"Whatever, Mazzello. Let's head out." Pulling her phone from her pocket to call a ride, her brain was already going a million miles an hour, thinking about what Joe would possibly make her do. Just the kind of thoughts she was having were causing her to shift in place, trying to find some relief for the ache that was building between her thighs. 

Joe was consumed by his own thoughts at the opportunity before him. He didn't want to make (Y/N) do anything she didn't want to do but at the same time...he wanted to kiss her. He'd almost been disappointed that the kiss cam hadn't landed on them. 

Both of them were lost in their own world and as such didn't realize that the herd moving to exit the stadium had stopped which caused Joe to run into someone which made (Y/N) bump into Joe with an "Oof" 

Reaching an arm back, he wrapped his hand around her arm, steadying her as she tottered on the balls of her feet. 

"Without even looking back, that's impressive." 

"What can I say? I'm an impressive sort of guy." (Y/N)'s breath caught in her throat considering what else about Joe was impressive but immediately snapped out of it when he turned to face her over his shoulder and waggled his eyebrows up and down. 

Rolling her eyes, she shoved him forward, "Let's just get home so I can sooth my wounds with booze and maybe some leftover Chinese." 

"Wait, but we had Chinese at my place, none of it is at yours." Joe wrinkled his brow. 

"I know, that's why we're going over to your place. You have all the good food and booze." She shrugged as they pushed through the gates and walked to the bus that would take them home.   

"You always say that and then I run out of food and have to buy more. Why can't you ever have the good food and booze?" he grumbled.

"Because I can't afford to have you eating and drinking all my stuff." 

~~~

Shoving his door open, they fell into Joe's apartment, letting the artificial coolness of air conditioning wrap itself around them. Both of them letting out involuntary sighs at how good it felt after being crammed onto a hot bus with more warm bodies than seats.

"Time to munch..." (Y/N) clapped her hands together before she opened the door of Joe's fridge and pulled out a Chinese takeout container, popping it open, mouth watering instantly at the sight of the golden dumplings waiting for her, like little doughy presents.

Before she could even grab a fork, Joe's hand wrapped around the container, whipping it up and over her head, causing her to turn in place so she was witness to Joe shoving a dumpling in his mouth, "Oh, I'm sorry. Did I not tell you? Dumplings are for winners." He said through a mouthful of her dumplings. 

"You're the meanest person in the whole world." She declared as she turned her back on him to rummage around in his fridge, only to emerge with two beers in her fist.��

Joe couldn't help but admire how she looked in his kitchen. He couldn't help but think what it would be like to cook with her. Or cook for her. Having her sitting on the counter as he made her a home cooked meal, stealing kisses in between stirring and chopping, making small talk, kidding around with each other, he wanted that so badly he felt his heart seize with longing. 

"Well, I guess we can't put it off any longer." She sighed as she slowly placed the beers on the counter. The look on her face was so melancholy, Joe put down the takeout box and felt his heart leap up into his throat, "What do you mean?"

"I mean the bet. I lost. Which, I would like to point out, how brave I am for admitting that without retching," Joe rolled his eyes, "But I get to do anything you want me to do so, hit me Joe. What do you want me to do?" 

Peering up at him through her eyelashes she searched his face, hoping against all hope that he would say "get on your knees" or "get into my bedroom". She knew that was wishful thinking on her part but she couldn't help it. Watching his Adam's apple bob up and down as he took a huge swallow, she almost didn't hear what he muttered next, 

"Want you to kiss me." 

Her eyes shot up to his.  

"I mean, only if you want to. I don't want you to do anything you're uncomfortable with but, fuck, (Y/N), I've wanted to kiss you since I first met you and I don't know, it feels like there's been something more between us lately and I didn't want to hate myself forever for not just, going for it, so, if you want, I'd really like it if you kissed me." He ended this speech with a shrug, fiddling with his fingers. 

"Joey," she breathed out and Joe's form stiffened as he waited for her rejection, 

"I've waited for you to ask me that for so long." she admitted, almost laughing at how wide Joe's eyes became. 

Blinking he stepped forward, "Then get over here and kiss me."  

Eyes widening, she stepped up to Joe, their arms hanging at their sides as they contemplated each other. Unsure, she tilted her head up. Joe leaned his head down, lips ghosting over hers as he whispered, "Are you sure?"

She just nodded and felt her heart clench as a smirk grew over Joe's face. 

Reaching a hand up, he cupped her cheek, letting his thumb stroke over the soft skin. Closing the gap between them, he placed his lips against hers, gently. Not enough to really count as a true kiss, his last ditch attempt to give her an out if she wanted. 

The electricity zipping through her body let her know that this was meant to happen. 

Letting out a small moan, she reached her arms up to wrap around Joe's neck, dragging him down more fully against her lips. Twining his arms around her waist, he pulled her flush against him. Feeling her soft curves fit up against him in the most delicious way possible.

Deepening the kiss, he nudged her back toward the counter. She made a small noise in the back of her throat as her back hit the edge. 

"Jump," Joe breathed and she did what she was told, leaping up onto the counter, spreading her legs as Joe stepped between them, running his hands up and down her thighs, giving them a squeeze when he reached where she wanted him most. 

"Such a good girl taking my directions." he breathed into her mouth. Her head dropped back as she let out a groan. Joe smiled at the effect. 

"You're gonna ruin me, Joe." she laughed weakly as one of her hands intertwined with one of Joe's. 

"That's the plan, darling" he said devilishly, bringing his other hand to the back of her head, pulling her down to reconnect their lips. She cupped Joe's face with both of her hands, giving her all to the kiss. Letting all of her pent up want and need spill through her lips and tumble into Joe's heart.  

Letting his tongue slip through her lips, he explored her mouth. She gripped his shoulders as she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him flush against the counter. Chuckling, he twined his fingers through her hair, giving it a gentle tug as he felt her body become pliable at the sensation. 

"So, you like having your hair pulled, huh?" He murmured as she mewled, scooting her hips closer to the edge of the counter, wanting nothing more than to grind her core against something, anything to relieve the ache that was building in her. 

"Mmm and you're a needy little thing too." he cooed as his hands ghosted down her body, outlining her curves. Nodding ferociously, she drapped her arms around his neck, pressing her lips to his again as he gave her hips a squeeze. 

"Joe!" the yelp that came from her mouth was louder than she intended but she hadn't been prepared for Joe's arms to lift her from the counter and carry her into the bedroom. Feeling his chest rumble against hers she smiled, "I got you. Don't worry."

"I know. You've always had me." she breathed into his ear and Joe had to bury his head into her hair to keep from letting the enjoyment he felt hearing that shine too strongly through his face. 

Lifting his head from her soft waves, he gently laid her on the bed groaning when she stretched her whole body and smiled up at him, "Aren't you going to ravish me now?" she fluttered her eyelashes at him and felt her pulse quicken as Joe started unbuckling his jeans. 

"Sweetheart, I'm going to make sure every inch of you is screaming with pleasure." Eyes widening, she started to fumble with the buckle of her belt as Joe chuckled, "I, uh, kind of wanted to be the one who did that." Lifting her eyes she saw the blush in his cheeks and smiled, "Then come here and get into these pants, Mazzello." 

He pounced on top of her so quickly she wasn't even sure how it happened. His fingers making quick work of her belt and shimmying her shorts down her legs.  

"God, you're gorgeous." Joe's eyes shone as he drank her form in. When he got to her head his lips quirked up, "You're gonna have to lose the hat, babe. Besides, if anything you should be wearing the hat of winners." he joked as she rolled her eyes. Then, a wicked idea overcame her.     

Rising up on her knees, she placed her hands on Joe's shoulders to breath into his ear, "You mean like this hat?" Grabbing the hat Joe was still wearing, she flung her Sox hat to the floor and replaced it with his well-work Yankees hat. 

Seeing (Y/N) wearing that hat caused Joe's cock to twitch in his boxers and he let out a soft whine as she placed a hand on his thigh, "Do you want to fuck me in your Yankees hat, Joey?" 

"God, yes. I don't care how stereotypically male that makes me but, fuck, (Y/N), yes." his hands came up to her face, pulling her into a deep kiss that was interrupted by his moan as her hand started palming him through his boxers. 

"Fuuuck (Y/N)" he breathed out as his head fell against her shoulder. Smiling she kissed his neck as she tugged at the band of his briefs, "I want these off" 

Again, it seemed like Joe moved so fast she wasn't sure how it happened. In the blink of an eye he was laying on her bed, briefs off, shirt off and beckoning her closer with one finger, his eyes never leaving hers. 

Smirking, she crawled over to Joe. Straddling him, she reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head, being careful not to mess up the hat that was positioned on her head. Joe smirked at the action but his jaw quickly dropped when he saw her. Her pink bra and floral panties somehow making the hat on her head even filthier. 

She felt his cock twitch underneath her heat and groaned at the contact. Leaning forward she pressed a kiss to Joe's lips then slowly started kissing his neck, down his chest and finally to his thighs where she most wanted to be.    

Biting his hips, Joe finally hissed "(Y/N), please, wanted this for so long..." Taking pity on him, she wrapped her lips around the tip of his cock and started working him over. The way Joe threw his head back and groaned was all the praise she needed.

Even though, as she bobbed her head up and down, Joe was heavy on the praise, "Such a good girl, making me feel so good, babe. God, don't stop..." when she took his entire length in her mouth, she felt Joe tug on her arm, bringing her back up to his lips, he kissed her deeply. 

"My turn," he murmured as he pressed her down into the bed. Smiling, she snuggled down into the pillows behind her and sighed as Joe pressed kisses all over her tits, reaching his hands behind her and making quick work of her bra.

She ripped it from her body and threw it to the floor as Joe danced his hands down to her cunt. 

Stroking the inside of her thigh softly, dragging his fingers closer and closer to her entrance she whined, "Joe..." lifting his head from her chest, he smiled,

"What? Not moving fast enough for you?" She nodded frantically and Joe's eyes never left hers as he moved a finger to run up and down her folds.

With a gasp she threw her head back and Joe growled, "Shit baby, you're soaked. Who did this to you?" 

"You...you did Joey. You always make me this wet."

"Always, huh? I think I'd remember if we hooked up before this." he smirked. 

"Every time I touch myself I imagine you doing it..." she murmured as she bucked her hips up to get his fingers closer to her entrance which meant she missed how comically wide Joe's eyes got and was caught off guard when he planted another kiss on her lips. 

"Those are the hottest words I could ever hear come from your mouth." she breathed out a laugh and then she felt her eyes rolling into the back of her head as Joe slowly inserted two fingers into her cunt. 

"F-fuck Joe, that feels so good..." Her voice trailed off as Joe started pumping his fingers into her slowly, relishing in the feel of the walls of her pussy tightening as he sought out the one spot that would make her lose her mind. After a particularly deep thrust that had her eyes rolling into the back of her head Joe leaned down to kiss her neck. 

Speeding up his fingers she felt her cunt clench, between his fingers and the way he was kissing on her neck, she knew was going to cum soon. 

"Joe...I-I'm gonna cum" 

"Good, want you to. Want you to cum around my fingers and then around my cock. Think you can do that for me, sweetheart? Want to feel how good I make you.” 

Making a whining noise in her throat she reached a hand up to the back of Joe's neck to reconnect her lips with his.

Pumping his fingers in and out of her he started to swirl his thumb over her clit and she moaned into his mouth, "Fuuuuck, Joe, don't stop"

"Wasn't planning on it" he chuckled into her mouth as he felt how close she was. Pressing more firmly on her clit, (Y/N) saw stars and she didn't even have time to warn Joe before the waves of her orgasm crashed over her. 

As she came down, she was aware of tightly she was gripping onto Joe's hair and let go with an apology. 

"Never apologize for pulling my hair when I make you cum like that. Truly, it's a small price to pay to see someone as beautiful as you cum because of me." Blushing, she reached her hands down to shimmy her panties down her legs and throw them into her room. 

Grabbing her hand, he gave it a kiss and they stared deep into each others eyes, she reached a hand down, brought his fingers up to her mouth and licked them clean of her juices, keeping direct eye contact the whole time. 

Joe's eyes darkened, "I need to fuck you. Now." 

"What are you waiting for then? Please fuck me, Joe." she cooed as she brought his fingers out of her mouth with a pop. Reaching her hand down, she pumped his cock a few times as Joe growled. 

Batting her hand away, he guided his cock to the entrance of her cunt, swiping it up and down her folds, "God, there's nothing hotter than getting my cock wet with your own juices, baby girl." 

"Fuuuuuck, Joe" she whined as she brought her hands up to rest on his biceps, squeezing them and laughing when she felt him flex, "Did you just purposefully flex?" 

Winking at her he pushed himself fully inside. Giving them both a minute to adjust, he brought his forehead down to rest on hers. Both of them closing their eyes and breathing each other in, it was the most vulnerable moment they'd  shared with each other. 

This one moment, where they were closer than they had ever been, it felt so right they couldn't quite believe that in a city of thousands, they fit perfectly together. 

"Joe?"

"Yeah, sweetheart?" 

"If you don't move soon I'm gonna be pissed." 

Laughing, he kissed her nose and started to thrust. Throwing her head back, she let out a string of curses as her hands clutched the sheets, feeling the walls of her cunt clench around Joe's length. 

"Fucking hell, feel better than I ever imagined."

"You feel a hell of a lot better than my vibrator" she choked out as Joe let out a single bark of laughter, thrusting harder. He lifted her legs so they were over his shoulders, enjoying how the new angle let him get deeper inside her, and by the way (Y/N) had started babbling about how close she was, he had a pretty good idea it felt amazing for her as well. 

"Fuck, Joe. Rub my clit. I'm so close. Again..." a moan swallowing the rest of her sentence as Joe started rubbing her clit. 

Seeing her writhe underneath him, knowing he was the cause of her pleasure and the fact that this was all happening while she was wearing his Yankees cap was almost too much for Joe.

"Sweetheart, I'm close.." he choked out as (Y/N) nodded, "Me too, want to cum with you..." she murmured and Joe nodded, thrusting harder as she brought a hand up to tweak her nipples. 

Pressing more firmly into her clit, (Y/N) felt her pleasure overtaking her body and succumbed to the orgasm that swept over her. Feeling her walls clench around his cock was the final push Joe needed. With a final groan, he filled her with his love, taking a minute to catch his breath. 

When they finally both opened their eyes they burst into giggles, 

"Hey."

"Hi" Joe breathed out as he tweaked her nose

Scrunching her nose, she reached her head up to press a gentle kiss to Joe's lips. Pulling himself from her, they both moaned at the loss of contact and after cleaning them up, he crawled into bed next to her, pulling her into his arms. 

"God, that was...amazing"

"And long overdue in my personal opinion." 

"Yeah, ya think?" he pressed a kiss to the top of her head then pulled back with a disgusted noise.

"What? Does my hair smell bad? Do I have lice or something?" pulling back she looked up into Joe's eyes. 

"No, this hat smells nasty. I can't believe you wore it when we had sex, who would do that?" 

"Don't lie, it was the one final push you needed to cum, yeah?" 

"I don't have to admit anything to you" he sniffed as she curled up into his arms.

Nuzzling into his chest, she placed a soft kiss right on top of his heart. Humming, he drew her in closer, closing his eyes and locking into his memory how it felt to hold her in his arms. 

His eyes snapped open, “Wait, hold on,” he jumped up, ignoring her protests as he rummaged around on the floor. 

“Joe, c’mon, come back and snuggle.” Pouting she turned only to be met with the lens of Joe’s camera focused on her. 

“JOE! I’m NAKED! What is your PROBLEM?” Scrambling, she threw the sheet over her form, peeking over the edge so only the hat and her eyes could be seen. They narrowed as Joe laughed, taking picture after picture of her. 

“Holy shit, there’s a really great one here. I think I managed to capture the exact moment your soul left your body when you realized I was taking pictures...” his voice trailed off as he swiped through the photos he’d taken, smile growing bigger with each one. 

“Glad you’re enjoying those horrible pictures. You better burn those Joe, I’m serious.” Pulling the sheet down to her neck, she fixed him with her best glare. It didn’t last long. 

How could it when he looked up at her with adoration radiating from his eyes? 

“You’re so beautiful.” 

Her indignation drained and she sat up, patting the bed, “Come back to me. Please?” 

Joe climbed into the bed, kneeling in front of (Y/N) to kiss her softly, “I’ll always come back to you.” 

Hiding her head in his shoulder, she pressed a kiss to the soft skin there, fighting back the tears she felt welling up suddenly. Pulling back she heard the click of the camera one more time. 

Joe lowered the phone, “So beautiful.” 

Taking the phone from him she turned around, her back against his chest as she held it aloft, “C’mon, first picture as a couple.” 

Smiling, they took one good one and the rest were a mess. One or both of them pulling ridiculous faces. A series of pictures where Joe was obviously playing with her boobs. Their favorite one was where (Y/N) was mid-laugh and Joe was looking at her, the love between them written so clearly in their eyes that they felt like they were infringing on a private moment. 

Looking at it, (Y/N) turned to Joe, “You think we’ll look at each other like that, even when we’re old?” 

Chuckling, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, “Absolutely. You and I are gonna be like that old lady at the baseball game and her husband.” 

“Are you calling me a hussy?” 

“Again, I’m just calling them like I see them.” 

“I feel like you shouldn’t call your own girlfriend a hussy.”

“Oh so you’re my girlfriend now?” Joe rolled on top of her, peppering her face with kisses as she laughed. 

“Well I won’t be if you keep calling me a hussy!”

“What if I only called you a hussy when we’re getting sexy?” 

Pausing, she reflected on Joe’s proposition, “Hmm, I guess that could be okay. But can you not call it Getting Sexy? That makes it decidedly not sexy.” 

“Alright, we’ll come up with something good. Though you should definitely always wear The Sex Hat whenever we fuck.” 

Sighing, she flicked the brim of the hat she was still wearing, “I set a dangerous precedent by wearing this, huh?” 

“Darling, you have no idea how dangerous you in that hat is.” Joe growled as he nipped her neck.

“Mmm, I think I have a pretty good idea.” She smirked as she tilted her head to the side, “It’s just enough to distract you so I can do this.” 

“Wha-” Joe hit the bed with an grunt as she slide out from underneath him and raced out of the room. 

“I’M GOING TO EAT THE LAST DUMPLING AND YOU CAN’T STOP ME.” 

Pushing himself up, Joe raced after her into the kitchen, knowing he’d be too late to stop her but he wanted to be around to imprint the image of (Y/N) naked in his kitchen into his brain for forever. 

[particularemu]

A Night To Remember | A Han Jisung Scenario

Word Count: 2169 (hehe) 

Type: Fluffy Smut

Prompts: 55 (It’s just you and me tonight. I was thinking we could have a little fun.) and 58 (I’m just a guy with a wife, two kids, and a Harley.)

Author’s Note: 

I’m so sorry this one took so long. I was hoping to have it out like last week, but the storyline was so bland so I had to fix it. 

I hope you like it! 

I’m not taking requests from this list anymore because I reblogged a different one, but the prompts are from this prompt list.

Marrying your best friend was the best thing you’ve ever done. Having two kids with him? Even better! 

Your kids were absolute angels, but they were also 5-years-old. Unfortunately, that meant you had to deal with big messes, arguments, and meltdowns. Tonight was one of those nights where you had to deal with all three.

“MOMMY! Taemin ripped the head off my unicorn!” Your daughter screamed at the top of her lungs, running into the kitchen with the decapitated body of a stuffed unicorn. Geez these children were violent little shits. 

“DID NOT! I just wanted to play with him for a bit. SHE was the one who pulled his head off.” Your son ran into the room holding the head of the poor thing. Stuffing poured out of the neck, reminding you of a scene in a horror movie.

This childish argument should be easy to handle. You should have simply told the kids you’d fix the unicorn and turned the scenario into a life lesson. You should have told your kids that if they had shared the unicorn, the unicorn wouldn’t be understuffed with its head popped off. You’d have to buy some stuffing to fix that damn thing. 

But no. You had a hectic day at work, and you wanted nothing more than to feed your kids and send them off to the living room to watch their favorite Disney movie on repeat. Thank goodness those kids both loved the same movie, otherwise you would have to deal with another argument. 

The perks of having twins.

The timer went off, signaling the pizza was done. You quickly turned the timer off, pulled the pizza out of the oven and threw a couple slices on plates for your kids. 

“We’ll deal with this in a bit. Why don’t you two sit down and eat. Dinner is ready.” You put the plates on the dinner table, hoping that having food in their bellies would brighten their mood. 

Unfortunately, now you were just dealing with two upset children crying at the table over the unicorn that was thrown on the floor. Yeah, they must love that thing. 

You pinched the bridge of your nose, hoping the chaos would disappear. 

But it got worse. 

“I don’t wanna eat.” Taemin pounded his fists on the table, causing his plate of pizza to tip over, spilling the hot food onto his shirt — which of course, led to another meltdown. 

The boy dramatically threw himself to the ground screaming bloody murder as if a bottle of acid was poured onto his chest. If you weren’t dealing with a raging headache from all the screaming, you would have had trouble holding back giggles at the dramatics. 

You bent down to his level, pulling his shirt up and checking the area for burns. Thank goodness there were none, but your son was convinced that you were wrong — per usual — so he curled in the fetal position and sobbed. 

Nice. 

Meanwhile, your daughter had knocked her juice onto the chair, staining the fabric red. She also knocked her pizza to the ground as she ran to her unicorn for comfort, forgetting that the damn thing had no head. She picked up the body and screamed, sobbing once she remembered her unicorn was beheaded. 

What the fuck is happening?

Jisung arrived home just as you were starting to lose it. His eyes widened when he witnessed his son scream-crying on the floor holding his belly as if he’d been punched in the gut, and his daughter sobbing on the couch with… what the fuck was that and why did it have no head? He couldn’t help but chuckle as the whole situation was extremely hilarious. 

Jisung glanced at his children and said, “Now what did that unicorn ever do to you two?”

“Daddy!” Just like that the two kids dried up their tears and ran to their father, hugging him tight. 

Fucking hell. You took this opportunity to head to the kitchen for some much-needed painkillers. 

“See? All I have to do is come home and everything’s fine!” Jisung laughed as you rolled your eyes, coming back from the kitchen. 

“You’re never allowed to leave again.” You chuckled, walking up to your husband to kiss his cheek. 

Jisung released his children to pull you in for a proper kiss. “Are we still on for date night?”

Ah date night. Your favorite day of the week. 

A few years ago, you two decided that you needed one day a week to get away from your crazy children and have some adult fun, complete with wine, dinner, and a big ass dessert the two of you would share. You rarely strayed from the usual restaurant, but there were a few spontaneous dates where you two went to arcades and kicked each other’s asses at various games. 

“As long as Jen comes over.” You smiled. 

As if on queue, you heard a knock at the door before Jen barged in. “Hey guys, are you ready for some fun!” 

“Yay!” The kids jumped up and down and ran to Jen, hugging her legs tightly. “We missed you.” 

The kids absolutely loved the 16 year old girl. She was beautiful and smart, and she always brought several games and activities for the kids. You adored having her as a babysitter. 

You couldn’t help but laugh. When you were 16, you were sneaking off to be with Jisung 24/7. Despite all the trouble the two of you got into, it was clear that you two were made for each other. Your relationship blossomed when you were young, and the two of you had been together ever since. 

“You ready?” Jisung held his hand out to you.

You paused, looking at the clothes you were wearing. Ehhhh this’ll be fine. “Yep.” You took his hand and let him lead you out the door to his motorcycle. 

Jisung put his helmet on before handing you the white one on the back. “Here. You get to wear the goofy one.” He chuckled. 

“What? Why can’t I swear the cool one?” You giggled and put the white helmet over your head. 

“Because I’m the driver. I get first pick.” Jisung laughed when you smacked his shoulder. 

You rested your hands on your hips and struck a goofy pose. “What do you think? I think I look good in it.”

“You look like an egghead.” He dodged your hand, laughing as you chased him around the motorcycle. When you caught him you tickled his sides, sending the boy into a fit of giggles. 

“Okay okay mercy!” He held his hands up. “You look like a gorgeous model. Now let’s go on our date before we’re late.” 

You laughed and climbed on the back of his motorcycle, wrapping your arms around his torso so you wouldn’t fall off. Jisung turned the key, making the engine roar to life. “You ready?” He asked. 

You leaned your head onto his back, before answering him. “Yep. Let’s go!” 

Jisung twisted his wrist, making the bike lurch forward. You loved riding on the back of his motorcycle. You could remember the day he first got it. He saved all the money he made from work as a teenager and bought the thing in cash when he was nineteen years old. 

Jisung parked the bike in front of a fancy looking hotel in the city. You couldn’t help but wonder what Jisung had planned for the night. Of course if you were getting a room at the beautiful hotel, you figured you’d be getting intimate tonight. The anticipation sent shivers up your spine. 

“Why are we at a super nice hotel?” You couldn’t help but gawk at the amazing architecture and wonder what it looked like inside. 

Jisung merely laughed. “It’s just you and me tonight. I was thinking we could have a little fun.” 

Yep, that was exactly what you were hoping he’d say. Every single time you and Jisung went past making out, one of your kids would barge into the room screaming about how the other ruined their life. You had many close calls — nearly having to have the talk with a pair of nosy 5-year-olds. So intimate moments were few and far between. 

You held your hand out to his. “Then let’s get going.” 

Jisung smiled and practically pulled you into the hotel. The two of you booked a nice room and quickly headed to the elevator. As soon as the doors closed, your lips interlocked. Jisung’s tongue slipped into your mouth with ease, hands pulling you closer as his tongue slid against yours. 

A ding startled the two of you as you pulled apart. You giggled as the doors opened to show another man standing in front of the elevator. 

“This is our floor babe.” Jisung pulled you out of the elevator, laughing with you as you headed straight to your room. As soon as the door closed behind you, Jisung dimmed the lights and took off his shirt. 

The makeout session was messy, uncoordinated tongues sliding together, hands frantically removing clothes as the two of you bumped against the walls. Jisung pulled your right knee over his hip, tapping your thigh to signal for you to jump. You hopped up, wrapping your legs around his waist, moaning into the kiss as he pulled your panties to the side and thrusted into you. 

Oh god that was sexy. 

When did he get his pants off? A deep thrust into your core had you forgetting all about it as your hands shifted down to hold onto his shoulders. Jisung moved, pressing you against the wall as he set a quick pace, snapping his hips into yours. 

God you felt so good around him. Jisung lifted you off the wall making you giggle nervously. Your arms tightened around him, hanging on like your life depended on it. “You good?” Jisung chuckled as he walked over to the bed. 

“Mhmm.” You smiled when he kissed your lips. 

“Good.” Jisung smiled deviously. 

What was he planning?

You shrieked when he tossed you on the bed, giggling when he crawled up your body to rip your bralette over your head. He quickly pulled your underwear off your hips and slid back inside you, hiking your legs over his shoulders. 

The new position had him hitting your g-spot dead on, making you cry out in pleasure. Your back arched off the bed as you rubbed your clit. Jisung kept with the harsh pace, savoring the sounds of your sweet moans.

“Fuck Ji.” You gasped when his tip rammed into your g spot once again. “It feels so good.” Your fingers rubbed your clit faster, toes curling as you hit your high. 

Jisung moaned as your walls clenched around him, milking him into his orgasm. He thrusted a few more times, helping you ride out your orgasm before collapsing on top of you. 

“It’s been a while hasn’t it?” You giggled. 

“Hey!” Jisung pushed your shoulder making you laugh even harder. “It’s not my fault…” He paused. Yeah… Yeah it was his fault. It was his fault the two of you didn’t spend more time together. 

He sighed and rolled over, pulling you onto his chest. “I’m sorry.” 

“Wait, Jisung that’s not what I meant.” You sat up, pressing a gentle kiss on his lips. “I was just teasing you. You seem exhausted.” 

“Yeah because I haven’t fucked you in ages.” He chuckled. “We need to do this more often.” Jisung pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Because that was great.” 

You giggled and tightened your arms around his frame. “You need to pull out or we’re going to have another round.” 

Jisung chuckled and pulled out of you. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” 

“Well we do have to get home to the kids.” You sat up, frowning when Jisung pulled you back down onto his chest. His arm wrapped around your shoulder, pressing your body closer to him. 

“Nope. I paid Jen to stay there all night. We have until noon tomorrow.” He smiled, running one of his hands through your hair. 

You leaned into Jisung’s touch, eyes closing as you enjoyed the sweet attention. “You’re the best.” 

“Me?” Jisung chuckled. “Nah, I’m just a guy with a wife, two kids, and a Harley.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh at his nonchalance. “You’re so much more than that though.”

Jisung kissed you softly before leaning his head against yours. The two of you sat in silence, simply enjoying each other’s presence. It was nice to lay with your husband without hearing your kids scream for you at the top of their lungs. 

“Hey.” Jisung poked your side, making your body jump. 

You lightly poked his stomach in return. “Hmm?”

“I brought the Switch. Let’s hook it up to the TV and play Mario Kart.” Jisung had a cute grin on his face. 

You shot up off the bed and threw on Jisung’s T-shirt. “THIS is exactly why I married you.”

This was definitely a night to remember.

[livinginsunnyhell]

Ask game for fanfic writers! ⌨️🖊📓📝

1. What fandoms do you write for?

2. What pairings do you write for?

3. What is your most popular fanfic?

4. Do you write original stories as well?

5. What fanfic of yours should everyone have read?

6. What is a fandom you will never write for?

7. What is a ship you will never write for?

8. Archive of Our Own, FanFiction.net, Wattpad, Tumblr, etc. which platform do you prefer?

9. What are your favorite fanfics?

10. How do you stay motivated to finish what you’ve started?

11. What’s your longest fanfic?

12. Do you want to break your readers‘ heart or make them laugh?

13. What is your planning process?

14. What have others criticized about your fanfic?

15. OCs or no OCs?

16. Do you use sentence starters, writing prompts and/or fandom headcanons for your fanfics?

17. Do you use/follow advice from writing blogs/posts?

18. What is your favorite writing prompt?

19. Dead or overused tropes?

20. Can we get a list of all of your current available fanfics?

21. What’s your shortest fanfic?

22. Do you listen to music during your writing process? What music do you listen to while you’re writing?

23. Long chapters or short chapters?

24. How many WIPs (work-in-progress) do you’ve got?

25. How many WIPs will you finish?

26. First-person-narrative or third-person-narrative?

27. Do you take requests?

28. I will name you three things (drunk Ian — shared bachelor party — Gallavich): write a paragraph or two!

29. What’s more difficult? Fanfics or original work?

30. What writing software do you use?

31. Do you use beta/sensitivity readers?

32. Past or present tense?

33. Do friends and family know that you write fanfics?

34. How did you find the magical world of fanfics?

35. What is your favorite review?

36. Did you ever delete a work of yours?

37. Did your work ever get plagiarized?

38. Do you partake in any fanfic/writing events? (Big bangs, zines, NaNoWriMo, etc?)

39. Collaborations or working solo?

40. Do you have any rituals before uploading a fic?

41. What is something you don’t like about your writing?

42. Rudest review?

43. Guilty pleasure tropes and scenarios?

44. Does fanart of your fanfic exist?

45. Do fanfics of your fanfic exist?

46. Few long essay reviews or many short reviews?

47. What fanfic of yours is truly underrated?

48. What is your favorite sentence that you’ve used in a fanfic?

49. Where do you draw inspiration from?

50. Can we get a teaser for an upcoming chapter?

(Don't feel obligated to answer. Thought if you're into these kinda things, that'd be a nice ask. ;))

Oh this is so nice!! Thanks for sending this @annansmith

I chose a few of them to do. 

1. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently, I’m writing for Shameless (Gallavich) but I’ve written for:

Veronica Mars (LoVe), Veep (Amy/Dan), Arrow (Oliver/Felicity), Once Upon A Time (Hook/Emma), The Old Guard (Joe/Nicky), That 70′s show (Hyde/Jackie), Sons of Anarchy (Tara/Jax), Vampire Diaries (Klaroline), Hart of Dixie (Zoe/Wade), Gilmore Girls (Rory/Jess), X-men (Rogue/Pyro), One Tree Hill (Haley/Nathan), and a few others.

2. What pairings do you write for?

Now I write Gallavich. 

But I’d say my top ones I love writing for now (my fanfiction writing has spanned about 14 years) are Dan/Amy, Veronica/Logan, Klaus/Caroline, Mickey/Ian.

3. What is your most popular fanfic?

My most popular fic on Ao3 is The Course of True Love (Arrow) and on FF Of Bloodshed, Babies, and Epic LoVe (Veronica Mars)

4. Do you write original stories as well?

Yes, I do. I’m working on a book, well, two books. But it’s going very slowly. The first is a memoir of my travels from around the world and the second is a vampire urban fantasy one. We’ll see how it goes, but I’d like to finish them by next year and see if I can get them published, but it’s hard so who knows. 

10. How do you stay motivated to finish what you’ve started?

Well, recently I’ve really been trying to finish everything I write. I have a lot of WIPs from years and years ago and even within the the last year, so this answer is pretty new. Basically, I focus on one fic at a time and write a little every day to stay motivated. Now, I try to update once a week on a certain day. I think comments/reviews and kudos and people being genuinely encouraging helps though. It’s also what’s gotten me considering finishing my older fics.

11. What’s your longest fanfic?

Of Bloodshed, Babies, and Epic Love (over 165k)

13. What is your planning process?

Now, it’s different. I have a doc of ideas and I wait to see which one I can’t seem to shake. Then I plan out each chapter with a few sentences and I have a list of things I want to focus on in the story. Usually, each story now has a kind of theme to it and a main focus. I sometimes will just want to write a certain situation/scene/focus and the story is born from there. But what really helps is writing down chapter 1, 2, etc. and having a sentence or two for what I want to happen. It doesn’t always go according to plan, but I never get writers block or forget what happened in previous chapters now.

16. Do you use sentence starters, writing prompts and/or fandom headcanons for your fanfics?

Probably a mixture of fandom (or my personal) headcanons. I don’t start with prompts unless it’s a challenge or sentence starters. Usually, I have a scene I already want to write in my head and then I sit down and write it.

17. Do you use/follow advice from writing blogs/posts?

Yes, I’ve read several books on writing. My undergrad was creative writing too, so I learned a lot there. I also follow writing instagram accounts which are helpful. I take everything I learn with a grain of salt and I see what is best for me. The best advice I heard recently was short sentences and so now I’m experimenting with that.

20. Can we get a list of all of your current available fanfics?

There’s a lot from many different fandoms. I used to be on FF.net as Psyc0gurl0 and now I’m ProstheticLoVe on a03. I like writing on ao3 better cause it’s easier and I love the tagging process. Plus the gallavich fandom on there is unreal. So to think about going back to ff.net to finish my WIPs seems like such a process now. 

Currently though, I’m writing an Ian’s POV 5 chapter fic called Chocolate. It’s not out yet, but it’ll focus on Ian from 1x06 to 1x09 or so and how his feelings for Mickey change and evolve. It’s the second part to a series called Chocolate and Cigarettes. Mickey’s POV was Cigarettes.

22. Do you listen to music during your writing process? What music do you listen to while you’re writing?

Yes, I listen while writing but I need silence while editing. I have a Love (lol) playlist. It’s basically all the love songs that remind me of couples I ship. So for example, The Acid is in there a lot because their music is great, but also Basic Instinct is so haunting. Overall, I like all music except country, so sometimes I’ll listen to my larger playlists while writing. 

23. Long chapters or short chapters?

So this has changed over the years. Initially, I wrote short chapters, then when I got back into fanfiction while writing klaroline they got a lot longer and now it’s just basically where the chapter has a natural ending. So the chapters are between 4 - 10k words depending. I try to get over 4k though. Right now, once I’m done with my current fic, I really want to write something over 100k.

24. How many WIPs (work-in-progress) do you’ve got?

A lot...none in Shameless though. Well, I guess my current one, but I haven’t posted that yet. I’d say I probs have about 10 WIPs spanning different fandoms. I know. But my goal for 2021 is to pick two and finish them. 

25. How many WIPs will you finish?

Not all of them. Some of them are from years and years ago. But I’d like to finish the ones that I still get reviews on. So there’s a SOAs fic I want to finish cause that fandom is so lovely. I also want to finish a klaroline one cause that was fun to write. And my Amy/Dan ones I’d like to finish. I would like to finish my Veronica Mars ones (I have two) but they need a lot more attention, so when people message me about them I tell them the planned ending.

28. I will name you three things (drunk Ian — shared bachelor party — Gallavich): write a paragraph or two!

“Fuck, Mickey, I probably shouldn’t have had the third Hot Toddy,” Ian grimaced as the world around him spun. 

Mickey laughed at him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Ian wanted to think his future husband just wanted to pull him closer, but he had a feeling it was to steady him.

“Probably should’ve cut you off earlier,” Mickey said tugging Ian closer. 

Ian wobbled and plopped down on the back steps of the porch. Mickey followed suit a moment letter and they both looked out toward the backyard where the Gallaghers, Balls, and a few of the Milkovich cousins were alternatively huddling around a fire, drinking, and dancing.

“I blame Lip for making us have this stupid shared bachelor party in the first place,” Ian grumbled.

Mickey kissed him on the forehead as Ian lay his head on his shoulder. “It’s Sandy’s fault too.”

Ian hmmed in response and Mickey knew he was going to fall asleep any moment. He ran his hand up and down Ian’s arm and watched as Debbie bounced over to them.

“Jesus, you aren’t even married yet and you two are like an old married couple. Are you going to come dance or what?” she whined.

Mickey looked down at Ian, whose eyes were already closed, and then back up to Debbie. She was watching them with knowing eyes.

“We’ll dance at the wedding. Go grab Lip, I need his help to get Sleeping Beauty upstairs.”

Debbie turned to go get her eldest brother and Mickey looked back down at Ian. In his sleep, he nuzzled Mickey’s shoulder, breathed deeply, and a gentle smile appeared there. 

3 more days and they’d officially be husbands. 

34. How did you find the magical world of fanfics?

I was about 10 and my cousin used to write a buffy the vampire slayer zine. There was a link to a site called buffyworld.com or something like that. And I found fanfic that way. There was a link on the site to ff.net and that’s how I stumbled across that. I stayed there for many many years until my second time in the veronica mars fandom around 2014 when I was lead to a03 and then I’ve been there ever since. On and off, my writing has fluctuated through the years based on my personal life.

49. Where do you draw inspiration from?

Everywhere! omg. It’s insane. Gallavich I love writing for. There’s so many different facets to them, but truly everywhere I find inspiration. I have a whole doc of gallavich ideas that have stemmed from other fanfics, headcanons from me and other people, rewatching episodes, what’s going to happen in s11, cute moments i’d like to see happen, holidays, and just general life. I saw a pic of WW2 vets who were in a long term relationship and i was like mickey and ian! another idea is born.  

[godofplumsandthunder]

Wicked (1/10) - No One Mourns the Wicked

A/N: I been working on a Bucky series for a little while, but I didn’t have any inspiration for it. I’ve recently went and saw the musical Wicked which is one of my favorite musicals. I knew I wanted to do a fusion of two of my favorite things, Wicked and Bucky Barnes. This is the first chapter in the series.  

Summary: Bucky Barnes did many horrendous and evil things. He didn’t felt worthy of love and affection because after all, who could learn to love a monster. 

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Masterlist

"No one mourns the wicked, no one cries they won't return, no one lays a lily on their grave"

When the Black Widow released all of Hydra's files, all of their dirty and horrendous secrets came out. This included the files of the mysterious Winter Soldier. The world learned that Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, Captain America's best friend, didn't die when he fell from the train on that fateful day in Austria. Instead, he was captured by Hydra and was tortured and brainwashed into becoming a deadly assassin. Some of the information included in these leaked files were the Winter Soldier's long list of victims, which included Howard and Maria Stark: Tony Stark's parents. Pair this new information with the events that happened in D.C., the court of public opinion was split. Some saw Sergeant Barnes as a victim of war. He never had any say in the matter. He was kidnapped, tortured, and experimented on. He was then forced to kill innocent people to advance an organization he was forced to be apart of. Others, while recognizing these points, thought he was a murderous assassin. They thought, that in the end, Barnes was responsible for all of these murders and that he should be held responsible in front of the law. They felt that he was a monster, who deserved no sympathy or empathy, and if you were to ask Sergeant Barnes, he would agree with them.

After Princess Shuri was able to remove the trigger words from Bucky's head, and finally take him off the cryofreeze, those close to Bucky hoped that he could finally put his terrible past behind him. But, things aren't as easy as we think they will be. While the trigger words have been removed from his mind, Bucky still suffered from PTSD, anxiety, and petrifying nightmares. In Bucky's mind, he thought that the nightmares were the worst. They were the worst because it was always the same dream and it wasn't a replay of the countless murders he executed, or even about his torture. It was about his mother, Winnifred Barnes.

Tonight's dream is just like every other dream. He survives the war uninjured. He and Steve make their way back to Brooklyn. Steve goes on his own back to the tiny apartment he had when he left for the war, leaving Bucky to walk back home by himself. Walking home with a stupid grin that's plastered on his face, he can't wait to see his ma. Despite the player and lady's man persona he has created, deep down Bucky Barnes is a mama's boy. During the war, he would write back to his ma every week. That's why when he reaches his home, his heart can barely contain its joy. He opens the door to see his ma sitting at the table, arms folded across her chest. Bucky is taken aback by her attitude. "Aren't you going to come give your boy a hug?" Bucky asks, wondering why she is acting in such a peculiar way. "Why would I want to touch a monster like you?" Winnifred Barnes responds, her words laced with acid. "I don't understand what you're talking about Ma. What's going on with ya?" Bucky, now completely and utterly confused, asks. "You know perfectly well what I mean. I've seen what you have become. Tell me, how does it feel to know you are nothing but a murderer? Did it feel good?" She says while standing up. Her face is covered with pure hatred. "It would have been better if you were dead. Then I could have forgotten you completely because who would want to be the mother of a murderer. And it would be better for you. Cause who would want to marry a murderer? Who could ever learn to love a monster like you?" She harshly asks as she gets closer to Bucky. She grabs Bucky's shirt, pulling him closer and saying "Because I know I could never learn to love you again!" She yells as she lets go of Bucky's shirt, causing him to fall. He falls into a casket. Looking up, he sees his mother for one last time, as she starts to pour dirt into the casket sized hole.

Bucky wakes up sweating, his breathing irregular and extremely fast, and crying. He always cries after this dream. It breaks his heart to hear such harsh words come out of his mother's mouth. It breaks his heart even more because he knows that his mother is right. All Bucky wanted during the war, and now, after all, he has been through, was to start a family. Find a loving wife, have a couple of kids and just settle down. But he knew that his mother was right. How could anyone ever learn to love a monster like himself?

[babywarg]

[untitled Ironstrange excerpt]

Note: May be largely offline for the next 36 hours, so I don’t think I’ll be able to finish this over the weekend, but I wanted to put something up anyway. For the bingo square “Water,” but I’m not going to tag the bingo folk for this until the whole thing is done.

I am running very late for my out-of-town bus so...posting this now and apologizing in advance for any typos or continuity/grammatical errors. This will highly likely be edited before it gets finished and goes into AO3.

 ***

Tony wasn't warned that when the sorcerer "died," he was going to haunt Tony's dreams.

"...Well, that's creepy," were Tony's first words upon finding out. “Could’ve told me earlier you can do that.”

“It was a last-minute sort of thing,” was the vague, quiet explanation.

"Does that mean you're not really dead?"

"It means I've found a way to escape being completely banished from this reality,” Stephen calmly explained. “I wouldn't call it 'not dead,' as I don't have a body anymore. I’m still technically around, I’m just not able to interact with anything outside of the dream dimension.”

Tony blinked. “The what now?”

“The dream - “ Wrong approach. He had to make it simpler. “- okay, your dream, specifically. A couple of people’s dreams.”

"You mean I’m not the only one who enjoys this special privilege?” Tony asked with a hefty dose of sarcasm, folding his arms across his chest.

“No,” Stephen answered, deadpan. “I can visit a few other humans. Other sorcerers. There’s Wong, for example - you remember him?”

“Course I remember,” Tony snapped. “He was the one of the only two wizards I know who didn’t let Thanos waste half the universe.”

Stephen paused. A small, frustrated sigh escaped him.

“You’re still sore about that...”

“Yeah, no shit,” Tony replied. “Since you can go bother other people, why don’t you go ahead and do that?”

“I need to talk to you, Tony.”

“Yeah, well, tough.” Tony scowled. “I’m in a life-or-death situation outside of this dream, and I doubt anything you tell me can make a difference.”

Tony’s spite burned, but was far from unforgiving.

There was still a flicker in his eyes, which asked Why? Why did you do it? Why me?

It told Stephen that Tony needed time.

"Don't worry," Stephen assured him. "you'll forget we ever talked when you wake up."

Before Tony could ask what he meant, he vanished, leaving Tony to see the rest of his dream through.

 ***

 But time was something Stephen didn’t have in abundance. He had to hurry it along somehow.

He had to set the scene.

The last time they spoke, in the real world, Tony was in a broken ship, with a daughter of Thanos, millions of light years away from Earth.

The barely-moving derelict’s supplies were running out. The daughter of Thanos, not human, could barely understand Tony’s need for human contact at that bleak, desperate moment.

All this, Stephen learned by observing Tony as he dreamed of soft beds, cheeseburgers, coffee, friends’ laughter, and the warm embrace of the woman he wanted to marry.

In the dream dimension, Stephen couldn’t see into Tony’s thoughts, but he could see Tony’s desires and fears.

Tony was afraid he wouldn’t see Earth again.

Deathly afraid.

Knowing that helped Stephen figure out what to do.

So the next time he and Tony spoke, it was in the premises of a cozy lakeside cabin, facing out into the water.

The house wasn’t familiar to Tony. Not yet. But when he materialized on the porch in his dream, he took to the place instantly.

“I see you’ve redecorated,” he remarked, clearly impressed. “This place isn’t bad.”

“You should know, you chose it.” Stephen caught himself and added, “Well...will choose it. And it isn’t actually you, but Ms. Potts who’ll be doing the choosing. It’ll take you the better part of a year to warm up to it, but you’ll get there.”

Tony said nothing. He was looking out into the placid water. Stephen looked out of it, as well.

“This was - is - will be - your favorite spot.”

“Has anyone ever told you how weird you are?”

Stephen didn’t miss the acid in Tony’s voice. But he chose to ignore it.

“Think of this as a vacation house. A place where you can recover.” He continued slowly, “I know that I left you in a...difficult place.”

Tony snorted. “A difficult place” was a hell of a euphemism for “floating in space with fast-depleting resources and no hope of rescue.”

“You need your strength, so it’s important that you rest,” Stephen said, with undisguised warmth. “We’ll have time to talk later.”

Tony could have had a comeback to that, but he was tired...so tired. He was often tired in real life, but he couldn’t disguise it in his dreams.

And the man who walked his dreams, who could see what he hid inside of them, left him quietly to recuperate.

[tbc]

[not-the-living-ghost]

Pride Month may be over but Dead Boy Detectives lives on forever 🙏🙏 (that pun was not intentional, but I’m keeping it like that because it’s funny)

Happy Not-Pride-Month to my favorite dead married couple on acid

[dustedmagazine]

Listed: Prana Crafter

Portland’s Prana Crafter, aka William Sol, works with guitars, synthesizers and singing bowls to create free flowing improvisations rooted in organic sounds.  He’s recorded his kosmische flavored psych rock and acid folk on labels including Beyond Beyond is Beyond, Eiderdown, Deep Water Acres, Reverb Worship, Sunrise Ocean Bender and Cardinal Fuzz Records.  Jennifer Kelly reviewed his latest, a split with Tarotplane, approving, “a feedback blistered, electric attack that is nonetheless somewhat pastoral, like Neil Young through a thick filter of codeine.” Check out a Listed from Prana Crafter’s partner-in-psych, Tarotplane, here.  

Ash Ra Tempel—Live at Cologne/Köln (1973)

When I first heard Göttsching I felt like I had finally heard someone as engaging and creative as Garcia and Hendrix, and I still feel that way about him and he’s a continual source of inspiration for me. Ash Ra Tempel is something that I listen to consistently and part of what brought Tarotplane (PJ) and I together. PJ is a true encyclopedia of knowledge about European psychedelic music, and when he read that there was some guy out in the PNW being written about with descriptions including references to bands like Ash Ra Tempel and Popol Vuh, so he had no choice but to check out some music and see how far off the mark these writers were, but luckily he liked what he heard and reached out to talk to me about AR & Machines! A bit later he turned me onto this live Ash Ra Tempel set from ’73 which I hadn’t heard and it blew me away. What I attempted to do with my side of Symbiose was to follow the path that Manuel laid out all those decades ago and do some really exploratory guitar work in an improvised fashion, across a broad canvas in terms of time-scale. A nice bit of trivia is that my side of Symbiose features a killer delay pedal that PJ sent me from to help me in my explorations of what I could do within the medium of solo guitar based music.

Terry Riley—Shri Camel (1977), Holland Festival

Terry Riley is up near the top of my list of artists I listen to on a regular basis, the flow of his creative stream resonates really deeply with me when I am in a contemplative or creative mind-set. I do a lot of writing and reading and his music I find to be like cognitive-creative nectar. This particular clip is really a classic and something that I come back to often to watch and be absorbed within, it’s a blessing this was recorded and that all these years later we can enjoy watching the birth of something so beautiful and truly innovative.

Don Cherry—“Chenrezig”

I didn’t learn about Don Cherry until a few years ago when I heard his duo work with Terry Riley. I knew right away I had been missing out and quickly rectified the situation by delving into as much as I could find, and I’m so glad I did. There is something so special about his phrasing, so alive and brimming with mojo, I’m pretty sure I could pick a Cherry riff out of a line-up with cotton balls in both ears.

The Grateful Dead—Jam 5/19/74, Portland Memorial Coliseum

I make no qualms about my love for Jerry Garcia and obsession with the Dead sound and energy between the late 60s and early 70s. This jam, released as part of the PNW box-set last year is fantastic in that it comes at the end of my favorite era, so it has shades of early-Dead, and foreshadows future trajectories, it’s funky and smooth, but still sharp and glistening with that psychedelic afterglow of the early 60s.

Garcia & Wales—“Space Funk”

Although it seems very odd due to his godlike status among many, I actually think Jerry Garcia is underrated in the sense that many people just see him as either a ‘rock’ guitarist, or a psychedelic icon, but if you dig into his acoustic and jazz work, you really hear what a humble master he was. Probably nothing in my collection gets more play than Garcia & Wales Side Trips Vol. I and Hooteroll!, what can I say, it’s just absolutely phenomenal stuff. There is a live recording floating out there which is really great, but besides that it’s hard to find anything else featuring these two masters together. From what I understand, Wales still lives and performs occasionally around Marin County.

Bill Frisell & James McNew—“Dark star -> comes a time 10/05/2014,” Seattle, WA

Of all modern jazz guitar players, I’m really drawn to Frisell, Ribot, Conners, and Scofield, and have been listening to Frisell for a long time. So when a friend named Joel Berk (Joel released a great track on Hypnic Jerk tapes under the moniker Ragenap) turned me onto this live recording of Frisell and James McNew doing a very loose but dynamic dark star -> comes a time in my neck of the woods, my ears were drooling. I love having friends with impeccable musical taste because they facilitate this constant process of being surprised and delighted by sonic treasures.

Medeski, Martin, & Wood—“Shack Man”

I first heard MM&W when I was going to the Evergreen State College here in Washington, this was almost 20 years ago now and some of the jam-band type things that are still around now were really in their prime and a lot of people at the school were from that scene, but also loved things like Zappa, and MM&W, and that’s where I first heard this type of modern improvisational jazz. It was cool for me because for part of my childhood my mom was married to a guy who played in a jazz quintet and they practiced at our house, so seeing and hearing MM&W was like going back in time and feeling that group improv vibe again, but this time oozing out of psychedelic beatnik seeming guys instead of the more uptight orchestra crowd.

Donovan—“Jersey Thursday”

I listen to a lot of acoustic based folk music from the 60s and 70s and Donovan has been a favorite since I was a kid and my dad would play ‘Hurdy Gurdy Man’ on his old 1950s Martin guitar. He told me that when he was younger and a friend would be having a bad trip, they would put Donovan on, medicinally, to mellow the person out, I’m guessing it wasn’t ‘Season of the Witch’, I imagine it to be something more like this absolute gem ‘Jersey Thursdays’ or maybe ‘Wear your love like heaven’, and definitely ‘first there is a mountain…’

Friends of Dean Martinez—“All in the Golden Afternoon”

Of modern psychedelic bands, Friends of Dean Martinez are one of my favorites, I really enjoy the spaced out pedal steel and really ominous tone of the whole band as they meld together and create a truly cinematic sound that I’m surprised hasn’t inspired more copy-cat acts across the country over the past couple decades. This particular track is my favorite of their material and I think it probably always will be.

Sandy Bull—“Electric Blend (E Pluribus Unum)”

Sandy Bull is someone I really admire in terms of his approach to improvisation and the really primitive vibe he conjures, even when playing an electric guitar. Terrence McKenna used to talk about a ‘primitive revival’ in which people would be drawn back to a stronger connection with the natural world and a primitive way of relating to life, and when I hear Sandy Bull I feel like I’m listening to something timeless, as if I could be hearing the same thing 1,000 years ago on a remote mountainside, a mustached Sandy Bull sitting in the doorway of his hut, snaking his way around the strings of a homemade Oud, grinning that cosmic smile. This was the B-side of his classic album E Pluribus Unum from Vanguard and I’d be remiss here not to mention my love for John Fahey as well, and although I’ve never had the honor of releasing on Vanguard myself, one of the nicest things a writer has written about my music was Dave Thompson from Goldmine Magazine who wrote this about my first CD release on Deep Water Acres: “if you want to play a really good trick on your snobbiest friends, slap an old Elektra or Vanguard label on the CD and make them guess who it is.”

[electric-cooter]

Connor Murphy pt. 7

I AM SOO SORRY AT HOW LONG OVER DUE THIS IS!!! I’ve been crazy busy and lost all my inspiration.  This story is almost done too- And I’m pretty sure we all know how it’s going to end.-Aqua

“Hey....” a voice whispered from above you.  You opened your eyes, still heavy and red from being over tired and crying.  Connor looked just as bad, his eyes red and swollen as well as he pulled up a chair and sat beside you.  “Don’t be mad at me....please” he begged, brushing your cheek gently.  You sighed, “I can’t be angry with you Connor Murphy....ever,” you smiled.  He smiled, kicking off his boots and climbing into bed with you.  You moved closer to him, resting your head on his chest, “I love you...more than anything,” you sighed.  Connor kissed your forehead before rummaging through his pocket.  “I have something for you...I was saving it for the day that they would tell us you were cancer free but um...well....” he stated, pulling out a small velvet box.  “I had this plan to take you to Disney, get down on one knee and propose to you in the middle of the park. But we know that can’t happen now but....if you make it through this surgery, will you marry me?” he asked.  You covered your face, not being able to control your emotions as you nodded frantically, “Of course....Of course I’d marry you. I will,” you cried.  Connor smiled as he took out the small ring and slid it on your finger.  You sat up, gathering all your strength and began kissing urgently, pulling off his shirt and melting into him.

“Ahem!”

The two of you jumped, further covering yourselves as your mother stood at the end of the bed, her face red and her foot tapping the floor impatiently.  “You two had better get dressed this instant before I jump across this bed and whoop both your asses,” she threatened. You burst into laughter, “You’re back early!” you laughed, grabbing your sweatshirt and pulling it over your head.  “I went home and picked up a few things! Good thing my motherly spider senses kicked in because I wouldn't have been here in time to wake you guys up before Dr. Mitchell or any of the nurses got her first!” he hissed.  Connor laughed with you, avoiding your mother’s gaze as he got dressed.  Your mother threw her bag down and began rummaging through it, “I brought what you asked me to get plus....I brought Cubby,” she smiled, pulling out a worn out small polar bear from the bag.  As she handed you your things she stopped dead, “What is that....on your...finger?” she asked.  Connor looked up at the two of you, backing away cautiously. “Mom....don’t get mad. Let me explain” you started, getting up.  She began crying, “I’m not mad....I’m just...my baby...what if I don’t get to see you two...” she sobbed.  You hugged your mother tightly, “Oh mom...shhhhhh.  I’ll be fine. Okay?” you assured. 

 You rested in bed for a few days, allowing your body to be a bit stronger for your surgery that was at the end of the week.  This allowed your family and friends to make a visit, bringing gifts, cards and balloons. Connor had never left your side except to answer his phone.  He had been begging his parents to come by and visit but due to their hectic schedules, never showed.  He huffed, hanging up his phone and walking back into the crowded room.  Everyone had their eyes glued to the TV, your favorite movie playing on the small television that hung above your bed.  “Is everything okay?” you asked, making space for Connor on the bed.  Connor shrugged, “Assholes,” he hissed under his breath as he pulled you on his chest.  As the movie ended and visiting hours were over, your family and friends left, giving words of encouragement and prayers for the upcoming surgery.  You were exhausted, even though you hadn’t left the bed and could barely manage to wrap the blankets around your small, frail body.  Conner helped, tucking you in gently and pulling out the small cot he kept in the room.  “Sleep with me tonight?  One last time?” you asked, trying to scoot over.  Conner froze, turning to you slowly, “Of course I will but as long as you promise me that it won’t be the last time,” he spoke, his voice becoming dark and serious.  You nodded, knowing that you had struck a nerve and pushed back the blanket to let him in.  He crawled in and wrapped his arms around you, “Baby...I love you.  When you go into surgery tomorrow, please...please don’t forget that.  Let that be the motivation you need to get through surgery.  Think of me,” he whispered, his voice cracking.  You held him tightly, “I promise...I promise.  I’ll be fine okay? Don’t worry” you whispered, brushing back his hair soothingly.  Connor’s body shook as he cried, gripping you tightly, “Don’t leave me.”

“What do you mean I can’t go in there?” Connor asked, gripping the hospital bed before it moved any further.  “I mean exactly as I say.  You aren’t allowed in there Connor.  You’ll have to wait with everyone else,” Dr. Mitchell spoke.  Connor’s face reddened with anger, “No one told me this!” he yelled.  Dr. Mitchell sighed, pulling Connor aside, “Listen Connor...her immune system is weak. Doing this surgery in her fragile condition is already a risk, so you can’t be in the room during the operation,” he explained.  Connor pushed Dr. Mitchell’s hand off of his shoulder, “I’m going in there whether you like it or not,” he huffed.  Dr. Mitchell took off his glasses and began pinching the bridge of his nose impatiently, “Listen....I’ll make a deal with you,” he started, putting his glasses back on his nose before continuing, “I will let you stay with her until the anesthesia puts her out.  Okay?” he said.  Connor nodded, his mind at ease realizing that at least this way, he’d be the last person you’d see before going under.  Dr Mitchell turned to one of the nurses as they began wheeling you through the hospital and into the operating room.  As they hooked you up, Connor watched like a hawk, eyeing every nurse and doctor that was overseeing your operation.  You gripped his hand as they began the anesthesia, the nerves finally taking over your body.  Tears fell from your eyes as you stared at Connor, “I love you,” you cried over and over.  Connor kissed your forehead, “I love you too.  I love you too. Remember your promise, okay? Don’t leave me behind,” he whispered in your ear, rubbing your cheek as he watched you slowly drift off to sleep.  

CONNOR’S POV

 I kissed her cheek gently before being guided out of the operating room and back to the waiting room.  (Y/n)’s mother was sitting in the far corner, tapping her foot impatiently and chewing on her long fake nail.  “Is everything going to be okay?  How was she?” she asked, sitting up when she had seen me.  I shrugged, my body still numb as I sat down next to her, “She’s fine.  It didn’t take long for her to pass out...surgery should take a few hours,” I spoke robotically, all of the emotions I had before now gone.  I kept track of the time on my phone, occasionally glancing at it before putting it back in my pocket and staring at the ground.  “Connor...?” a familiar voice asked from above me.  (Y/n)’s mother nudged me, causing me to jump before I looked up to find my father Larry and my mother Cynthia above me.  “Um...hi...” I stuttered, confused at their arrival, “What are you doing here?”  Cynthia forced back a smile, knowing that in such a sensitive moment that now wasn’t the time to be her usual chipper self. “We came to offer our support...We know how much you love this girl, we wanted to-to,” Larry stuttered, unsure of what to say.  I sighed, biting my tongue as I chose my next words wisely, “It’s okay...We’ll leave it at that.  I appreciate you coming,” I smiled.  A couple more hours had passed, the four of us filling the extreme tension with mindless chatter.  When the conversation grew boring, I sat up and began pacing-trying my hardest to not barge in and ask how things were going.  Biting my lip I turned around, a sea of nurses coming towards the OR doors and crashing through.  Instantly I knew something was wrong.  Those doctors and nurses could be going anywhere but my gut was telling me that it was (y/n).  I could feel my heart racing, my ears ringing as I waited for someone to come through the door.  (Y/n)’s mother got up, gripping my arm as she asked what was wrong, “Connor?  Connor talk to me,” she begged, her voice faltering.  The doors flung open once more, except this time a sullen and tired Dr. Mitchell came through.  I dropped to the floor, knowing instantly what was to be said before he even uttered the words.  Rage and sadness overwhelmed my body, buzzing through my veins as I tried to listen- “Her body was too weak”, “her heart gave out”.  “We tried everything we could,” Dr. Mitchell spoke as he tried to console (Y/n)’s mother.  I turned to him “You didn’t do shit.  You should have tried harder,” I yelled, pushing him before grabbing my jacket and making my way towards the door.  “Son....Connor come back,” Larry yelled after me, running towards the door.  He rested his hand on my shoulder, “Don’t go.  Please Son,” Larry begged.  I could feel my face grow red with anger, the hatred for the world boil up inside me before spilling over, “Don’t. Pretend. To. Care.  You never took the damn time to even come say hi to her-to me.  You don’t even know- ANYTHING.  How I felt about her, how she felt about me. Get your damn hands off of me,” I hissed, my words like acid as I spit them out.  Larry’s face went blank then into guilt as he backed away, knowing that I was right. I ran off, grabbing my bike and aimlessly began peddling away.  Not caring where it led me.

[roslinadama-sinequanon]

Major Crimes-Sanctuary City Pt. 2

So, overall I liked this episode better than episode 1.  I also liked this episode better the second time around—for a couple of reasons. First, I no longer had any expectations of a personal scene or interaction between Sharon and Andy so the heavy disappointment I felt the first time around was gone. Second, I didn’t have the sick feeling in my stomach that I had the first time around fearing that Sharon would find out she had some awful illness—at least not in this episode.

One thing I have felt that is really lacking this season is the personal side of things. MC has never been all that great in this regard (far different from TC) except when it came to Rusty, but with all the hype about how this season would be more focused on the personal side of things I have certainly not seen evidence of that. This case has to be putting Sharon into emotional turmoil; however, all we have gotten are a few sighs of dismay and leaning emotionally on a chair or desk. I would love to have had a scene between Sharon and Andy in the condo where Sharon discusses some of her feelings with him—or at least vents a bit. We used to get all kinds of that with Brenda and Fritz, why not Sharon and Andy? I get that Sharon is more repressed with her feelings, certainly far more than Brenda is. But she DOES have feelings and emotions. She is NOT a robot.

On that topic, it feels like there hasn’t been any sense of connection between Sharon and Andy at all this season. If you were new to the show and blinked during the few seconds in episode 1 that Andy was in the condo with Sharon you would have no clue that they are a couple. Rather shocking considering they are supposed to be getting married in a couple of episodes.  What scene did I feel was missing in this episode? Andy talking to Sharon about Rusty getting a gun. I mean, Rusty is Duff’s favorite topic of discussion so it would fit into the type of Sharon and Andy conversation he allows—nothing personal about themselves, their relationship, just talk about Rusty—sorry, trying not to get too salty. And let’s face it; Rusty is really one of the last people on earth you would want to have a gun. He is emotionally immature and impetuous—look how horribly he did when Sharon allowed him to participate in catching his stalker. I could totally see him hearing a noise in the condo in the dark of night, panicking and shooting Andy or Sharon. I would love to have heard their thoughts on this. More police parents please.

Sharon’s illness-Though it wasn’t mentioned in this episode, which is strange because it was handled in a pretty heavy handed manner in episode 1, that actually makes me even more nervous. I feel like they were trying to lull us into a false sense of security, only to bash us on the head with something horrible in the next episode or two. I really hope that I am proven to be a Chicken Little running around shouting “the sky is falling” but I just have this sense of foreboding. I feel like when it comes to Sharon and Andy every time we’ve gotten excited about something either nothing happens, or it happens off screen and it never gets played out. So, why should the wedding be any different? We’re all so excited about it so there has to be something to take away our joy.

Over the top-Okay, this is been commented on several times but I couldn’t agree more. Mrs. Diaz was completely over the top in her reactions. I wish they had taken some of the time wasted on her hysteria and put in a Sharon/Andy moment. Also, the bumbling FBI agents. It feels like most of the time when an antagonist is brought on this show they are either complete over the top bitches (Emma) or thoroughly incompetent. The one exception was Sharon. Sharon was intelligent, competent, strong and really good at her job, which is what put her in conflict with Major Crimes and Brenda in particular. 

So, now on to the episode.

“Diabetes didn’t dump him in this flower bed.”

Buzz is really becoming a more vocal and confident member of the team rather than just an observer. However, he just went through his reserve training, shouldn’t he be on patrol somewhere? How he is he already a detective in the most elite branch of the LAPD?

“Thank you for your insights, Detective Page”

Sharon’s amusement with Page and her constant interruptions is in direct contrast to her smack down of Emma Rios when she behaved in the same manner. So, what gives? Why isn’t Sharon taking her to task? My thought is that Cami is simply a clueless bull in a china shop kind of person; she is not being aggressive and going at Sharon in the manner than Emma did. Also, Emma was after Rusty and actively working separate Sharon and Rusty and you don’t fuck with Mama Bear Raydor when it comes to her kids.

“Christ would never keep me out, would you?”

Provenza really hates the Catholic Church, that’s been ongoing throughout the series, but Jonas isn’t helping himself by barring entry.  The minute he did that, it screams “guilty!”

“Sacrilege is a child dead outside our church. Besides we have nothing to hide.”

Father Stan is being pretty transparent here and is irritated with Jonas for not opening the doors. This would lead me to believe that if something was up at the church he is not aware of it. 

****SPOILER-don’t read the part in italics if you don’t want to know about the wedding**. 

   Also, in the wedding picture Father Stan is marrying Sharon and Andy and I can’t imagine that she would allow him to marry them if he had any knowledge of wrong doing—even if it wasn’t something he could be convicted for.

“It’s all true and it’s all wrong.”

It was interesting to see how each media outlet twisted the same facts to push forward their own agenda. Kind of like flipping from Fox to MSNBC—the facts are the same, but they are presented completely differently.

“But be aware, I’m not giving up my jurisdictional authority over this case without cause.”

“It’s better to have the FBI inside the tent and pissing out than outside the tent and pissing in.”

“But either way, I’ m not cleanin’ it up.” 

Love to see sassy Sharon again. Also liked the impressed look Cami gave Mason, a sort of “Hell yeah, that’s my boss.” 

“Look, when I first met you I didn’t like you. Not only because you were difficult but because I mostly dislike all teenagers but now though, you’re an adult and you’ve grown on me.” 

Andrea is great here. She is very Provenza-like in some ways. Both would never be able to come right out and say they care about someone.

“I have put so much faith in the Catholic Church; I would ask that the church put just a little faith in me.” 

Poignant scene here. Watching Sharon with Father Stan and her saying this made me think of the role reversal. Last season we had Sharon in Father Stan’s domain, in the confessional pouring out her heart and gaining absolution (we had more personal interaction between Sharon and her priest than we have had between Sharon and her fiancée) and in this scene, Father Stan is on the other side of the desk and Sharon is the one in control. 

I agree with @milquetoast-on-acid in her great analyis.  Provenza, Cami and Wes were the wrong choices to interview Father Jonas. Wes might have been okay with Mike and Andy but he fed off Provenza’s antagonistic condescension and Cami’s aggressiveness. By coming off in such a manner all they did was put Jonas on the defensive and ultimately caused him to shut down completely and walk away. 

“This is exactly the ending I wanted to avoid.” 

But it was the ending that was inevitable the minute she chose those three to do the interview. 

Sharon rises rather wearily after saying this and Andy and Rusty share a concerned look. Is it because they feel Sharon is not getting better or because she was upset at the way the interview turned out? 

“It’s great that you understand the  way Commander Raydor thinks but it might be better for…well…everyone  if you let her talk first. I mean, since she is in charge.”

 I like that Wes took it upon himself to educate Cami in the ways of working with the team. I guess he figures Sharon will only take so much. Also, unlike Cami,  he is not oblivious to the looks passed around amongst the team and probably knows there will be push back to her at some point. Also, I think Wes really respects Sharon and doesn’t like to see her disrespected in the way Cami has been doing. 

“Are you suggesting our missions conflict?” Said with a steely Sharon look. 

As important as the church is to Sharon she has never been afraid to go toe to toe with a priest. This scene reminded me of “The Ecstasy and the Agony” when the priest tried to expel Rusty for fighting and Sharon laid down the law with him. Als,o in the confessional, Sharon said to Father Stan, “Your rules, Father, not mine” which leads me to believe that they’ve had some arguments regarding some of the more archaic rules of the church (I’m thinking co-habitating, birth control, female priests, divorce) though Father Stan seems pretty open minded. He wasn’t fazed at all that Sharon was living with Andy and actually tried to reassure her about it and seemed pleased. 

“I think it would be wrong to bring a weapon into the house without her permission.”

“Oh good, you’re not completely crazy.”

Love this fathership scene. Interesting that Rusty does the same thing with Andy’s name as he does with Sharon. When Rusty wants something he is Andy, at other times Lieutenant—odd now that Andy is living with them. He used to do that with Sharon, when he wanted something she was Mom, otherwise, she was Sharon and he still goes between Sharon and Mom, which is also weird.

Rusty has also learned what most kids learn early on, the best way to get what you want from Mom is to get Dad on your side.

“Commander Raydor leads or we go our separate ways. The end.”

Enjoying the Sharon/Mason dynamic much more this episode. Sharon seems to be much more in character. She has taken control, asserted her authority but does so in a way that is not insubordinate. And Mason is a much better leader than Taylor, who was only interested in doing what was good for Taylor and making sure to further his career. When Sharon was on board with that all was great, when she wasn’t he could turn on her. Mason is much more of a team player and seems to truly respect Sharon.

Tension between the police and FBI-Things were better when Fritz was the FBI liaison and was able to be a buffer between the two institution(BTW-Where is Fritz?) These two groups should be working together to find out what happened to these kids, not just snarking at each other. Instead of expending energy in trying to thwart each other, they ought to be all in helping each other on the case. It’s a pet peeve of mine and it’s why I’ve always loved Sharon. She doesn’t care who gets the credit as long as the outcome is a good one.

“Commander something popped up on our wire.”

And….

“Commander would it be okay if I mentioned the Hollywood Strangler?”

Oh, Buzz. He still hasn’t’ learned to check out the room before opening his mouth. And, wow, he’s definitely not quick on his feet when it comes to making up a story.

“I would never bring a gun into this house without your approval.”

“And without knowing how to use one which is why I’ve scheduled us a session at the LAPD firing range after work if I can make it.”

 Sharon gave in a lot quicker than I thought she would—but again, everything but the case seems rushed. I wish we’d had that Sharon/Andy scene to see how she processed this and came to the conclusion she did. What was it? Fear of Stroh? To be honest I’m just not feeling that. Sharon doesn’t seem particular anxious or worried about Stroh, she isn’t pressuring Rusty to have undercover protection, nor is Andy. I’m surprised that neither of them seem very concerned, in fact, Andrea seems far more worried than either Sharon or Andy which has led me to an odd feeling with this season. 

Or did Sharon give in so easy because this case is hitting close to home. Boys close to Rusty’s age, that went to Rusty’s school and their church. Is she thinking that the same thing could happen to Rusty with the threat of Stroh and that it might not happen if he has a gun and can protect himself. Not sure. 

“What about Irish-Americans, Italian-Americans? That doesn’t come up.” 

How very true Mike. Also interesting that he chose the two nationalities of Sharon and Andy. At least I think they are.  Definitely Irish for both, but am I assuming that Andy’s Mom was Italian or was it said somewhere? I don’t remember. I’ve just always figured his dad was Irish with a name like Flynn and his mom Italian—but I don’t know if the Italian part is just me or if it’s canon. 

“You can’t beguile someone who doesn’t want to be beguiled. I’ve tried.” 

Wes could SO be Andy’s son. Love Sharon’s amused smile. I think she has a soft spot for Wes because he is so much like Andy. 

“I have what could be damning information about Father Jonas.”

“What sort of damning information?”

“He’s been transferred to 6 different dioceses in 5 years.” 

You can visibly see this deflate Sharon.  This was NOT what she wanted to hear. 

“Since Father Jonas won’t come to us, let’s go to him.” 

And now Sharon is pissed. 

“I want you to remember that this training is about the gun, it is not about the soul. Taking a human life up close is very hard(something Sharon so recently dealt with). You need to put some serious thought into…..BANG BANG BANG. 

Seriously? I really wish that Andy had been part of this family outing. I would love to have seen him sternly take the gun from Rusty and tell him that you do NOT go off half- cocked—that is a sure way of getting others killed, including himself.  I was surprised that Sharon handled it all so coolly and didn’t lecture him about taking this seriously. 

“Sharon your detectives can’t look through our private quarters.” 

Oh, no, not Father Stan too….I was hoping he’d still be one of the good guys but if you have nothing to hide you shouldn’t be afraid of any searches. What is Stan hiding? The fact that Father Jonas has not just left the church, he’s left the country. Does not look good for Father Jonas and now Father Stan is on shakier ground.

'��$X�

[humanscandrivestick]

E.Q.--Early Water: A Halloween Special

Apologies on 2 fronts: 1) that this is a few hours late for the countdown, since I was working on it all day between actual work, and 2) its the first E.Q. story in MONTHS since The Lift.  ;.; I swear to get back at it guys.  I promise.

Taking place in the Side A part of the story (a first!), this halloween story takes place after album 2, and includes my favorite character Quentin for once XD.  It also has some minor sexy parts so maybe nsfw just in case.  Inspired by the Michael Hoenig & Manuel Göttsching song, of the same title: Early Water. Enjoy!

~~~

"I wouldn't say its an urban legend, if it has good eyewitnesses," Pollex said, leaning back in his chair.  He raised an eyebrow at his open chat screen at Django.  "If, that is, you have some." "Eyewitnesses?  Hell, old friend, I've been there."  The older man, taking off his trademarked fedora, ran a hand through his sandy colored hair.  Today's outfit was a navy colored button up shirt with grey pinstripes, and navy colored slacks.  The usual contrast from Pollex's usual all-white attire, with light accents of lavender. The man in white sat up slowly, a look of puzzled concern on his face.  "You've...been there?  Are you mad?  You don't know what else could have happened!" "I'm not the sort of man who sends his men into unknown territory, you know that."  Django sighed and leaned back in his chair, a hand across his eyes.  "In any case...the rumors are true.  That place...is....  Its quite dangerous if word got out more." "Indeed.  The young and adventurous often seek out higher highs than they're prepared for.  I've already got the Suits and Hoover working the acid wave that's hitting recently, but no bites there." "You think they're related?" "I don't believe so.  From your description, there isn't even the inkling of music.  Is there?" He frowned in recollection.  "Something's going on there.  Definitely infrasound first, because you're getting nausea in the first part of the place.  But if there was music...I don't rightly recall it.  I'm sure there was.  I can't think of anything logical that would cause me to see my late wives so vividly." Pollex frowned harder.  "You saw your wives..??" Django sat up and gave him a long pained look.  His eyes were the color of watered down aquamarines. "I don't believe in ghosts." "Nor I." "But I did see them, Pollex.  I.... I held Mary in my arms....I could hear Lora's voice.  This was...so real on every level, Pollex.  If they weren't ghosts, they were one hell of an illusion.  One hell of one.  I'm thankful I had enough of my senses to take off and leave.  Because if you were me....you wouldn't have believed they'd been dead for over 15 years."

~~

Bass was on the floor of the music room, laid out on his back, smoking as he listened to Quentin and Treble play on some synths he'd whipped up on a building lark.  He'd had the pieces lying around and wanted to see how much of a machine he could get out of them.   Though the pair had spent most of their time mildly bickering over style choices and instruments, it'd been quite a pleasant, Ocotber afternoon.  Treble was dressed lightly, jeans, blue converses, a light blue shirt and dark blue jacket.  Bass stared at the ceiling lazily, wearing black denim jeans, orange high top converses with yellow laces (his candycorns, as he called them), and a long sleeved black shirt with red sleeves, sliced at the shoulder to expose them.  Something halfway between summer wear and fall wear, but Bass was a Cali boy and he needed the transitional wear more than most.  Quentin had similar colors in his outfit; a red and white hoodie with black sleeves, brown trousers and a pair of red sneakers, matching the color of his hair. "You know," he trailed off as he took a drag.  Treble and Quentin glanced over from their bickering.  "You guys sound like a married couple." Quentin went pink nearly immediately, but Treble rewarded him with a withering look and pushed his glasses up his nose.   "Oh please," scoffed Treble as he unplugged the synth to test another piece of machinery.  "I'd sooner swallow my tongue." Quentin gave him a matching look.  "Gee, love you too, darling." Bass laughed.  "We used to snip like that when we first started dating." "As if you actually remember that time period," Treble said coolly.  Had anyone else mentioned Bass' memory loss--particularly that part of his life--Bass would have clocked him clear across the room.  But from Treble, he only gave him another chuckle and drag from the cigarette, blowing a thin trail of smoke. Fade came in, plainly dressed because she had been working on Bass' side car to his motorcycle, wearing black tights beneath a long sleeved gray t-shirt dress that ended at her mid thigh, and white sneakers.  It still had her usual touches, in that the cuffs and bottom hem had a trim of faded cream lace, and her neck ribbons were of a silken, silvery gray.  She also had a kind of frilly, laced maid headband on, like a french maid, only it was adorned with a single black bat. Bass gave her a lazy wave.  "Ey, Babydoll.  How goes my second baby?" Her hands signed, and Treble had to look up because Bass was one of the few people he knew who didn't understand a lot of sign language.  Your springs need replacing soon, but the oil is topped off.  He repeated her verbally and Bass nodded. "Yeah, sounds about right.  How 'bout my Lady?" He meant his kneeling racer, the RS80 Elegant Lady, a non-street legal kneeling bike with a side attachment made for sidecarcross or sidehacking.  The 2 of them had been planning on installing lights for night riding, and refitting the sidecar portion to be a little more safer for riders other than Treble.  It was a personal pet project ever since Bass scored half the engine and the frame from a junker months ago. To Bass, it was his ultimate plaything, besides the frankensynths he was wont to making on whims.  To everyone else, it was a deathtrap to everyone but Treble and Bass. We're going to need to hack the frame to fit the components for the lights.  The brakes need a ton of work. "Lights don't fit, brakes need work," translated Treble. "I'll do a frame hack when I can get my hands on the fiberglass and materials." She shrugged but part of her was excited for the project.  She liked the challenge. "You ever gonna race that monstrocity?" asked Quentin. "Fuck yeah.  I've been dreaming of a EL for ages to drive." Balance entered the room, a little more pensive than usual. Fade and Treble waved, but Quentin questioningly looked at her.  She was dressed lighter for the season, with a black bandeaux style top that showed off her middrift, brown shorts and a short sleeved brown canvas top with faux fur trim.  That was the English part of her showing. "What's the matter, Bal?" She was chewing her thumbnail in thought then looked up at them.  "Mm.  Dunno.  Heard some weirdo stories, trying to decide if they're true." "What kinda stories?" asked Bass, sitting up to put the butt of his cigarette out. "Ghost stories." Treble raised an eyebrow.  "Didn't think you were the type." "I was just messing around with some guys in the painter's department, getting stuff for the next few easies and directions and stuff."  The painter department in question were Pollex's street artists and graffiti artists at the ready to tag places in the city to tell people where the next easy he was hosting was.  It took a practiced hand to make the seeming vandalized art convey messages like locations and times and musicians, and it took a practiced eye to decipher them.  Part of the department was usually made of artists and cryptographers.   "Bass likes scary stories," Quentin said, pointing a thumb at him. Bass shrugged.  "I like hearing them...been in maybe one or 2 in my life." Quentin gave him an incredulous look.  He never knew that; just that Bass liked marathoning scary movies on a whim, though mostly in October. Treble had to hide a tiny smile.  He remembers one of those. What was it about? signed Fade. "They say its a building where you can see the dead in." The 4 of them looked at her with varying degrees of belief.  She looked at them and shook her hands at them.  "I don't really believe in that stuff!  I just heard about it.  One of those, I heard from my friend's sister aunt's nephew's boss kinda thing." Treble rolled his eyes.  "Well, then why do you look so concerned, if you don't believe in that." "Well, I wouldn'tve normally.  But....well, I think I heard Cash and Moebius also talking about it when I went to see the boss.  Like, I didn't think they knew I was there until I came around the corner.  I mean, Cash, I dunno, but you know Mo.  They're pretty clinical and stuff.  Not superstitious.  But they were talking about why people might see the dead.  I dunno.  I don't understand that psych stuff, they're hella advanced." "They were talking about it?" asked Treble, seriously. "Apparently the boss had a friend who went through it.  I mean that could be anyone....but...I dunno.  I mean if he was talking to Mo about it, maybe its serious?" There was a small silence, then Bass clapped a hand on her shoulder.  He smiled gently. "Let's go ghost hunting, shall we?"

~~

By dividing and conquering, the 5 spread out to each of their respective branches, hitting the streets, the internet, and other members of the Gemini Network.  Bass easily gained information while Treble stuck to researching with Fade online.  Quentin tried Mo. Moebius was having tea when he entered but the psychologist was rather evasive to him. "C'mon, at least throw me something," he said. Moebius had a face of mild dismissal.  "Confidentiality." Quentin tried his little pout. "You're cute, Seek, but I'm afraid I can't do anything for you."  Sipping tea, the young psychologist then sighed.  "You didn't hear it from me." Quentin nodded. "Django."   He was mulling that over when they met back up a few hours later. Treble and Fade were able to pinpoint a location somewhat: based on the eyewitness reports they were lucky it was within the city.  Moreover, the recent rumors about it were relatively new, perhaps only starting in the last year or so.  According to Bass' sources, it was an obscure test of courage, at least now that it was beginning to gain traction.  Quentin waited until everyone had gone and simply reported back what he heard from Mo. "Django." Bass' and Treble's eyes sparked in sudden interest.   "He knows?" "He's been.  At least I think that's what Mo meant.  She wasn't exactly the most enlightening, since it was confidential between her and I presume Di--er, Pollex."  He was still getting used to the boss' "real" name these days. Bass glanced at his partner.  "Maybe we should check it out.  I mean...if the old man's ok, I mean." "I'm sure he is.  I'd have heard something, or even Quentin," Balance said. Bass was looking at Treble now.  "Well?  Whatcha think, Treb?" Treble was quiet a long while, his deep blue eyes in calm, but deep, thought. "Let's go check it out.  Just in case."

~~

It was part of the abandoned parts of Staten Island, parts of the city that hadn't been rebuilt in decades, looking like a place most filmmakers go to film their post-apocalypse short films.  In one of the condemned areas of a neighborhood there was a duplex that matched the descriptions.  It had once been teal colored, but the paint was faded and peeling.  Many of the windows and doors were boarded up, and covered in graffiti.  Most of it was the usual gang tags, but a few were more cryptic.  Crude spray painted tombstones and doors across the walls and boarded windows. What do you A pair of painted eyes replaced the word "see". Who are you looking for A few arrows painted on the front, dead lawn and sidewalk, all lead to the front door.  The boards had been pried off, and were leaning against it, so it wasn't hard to get inside. Bass, Treble and Quentin all were wearing the back units, but opted instead for the visor headsets rather than the helmets.  Treble wanted a wider field of vision than the helmets would afford, and forwent the extra armor for the ability to see clearly.  Balance was armed with a handgun (as were Quentin and Treble), but Fade only brought her tablet, though in her backpack was a wireless harddrive set that could continually "talk" to the boys' units.  It wasn't ideal, but Treble reasoned that perhaps it was merely rumor that was more dangerous than anything factual. "You don't believe we'll see dead people in there?" asked Balance, a little unsure.   "I don't believe we'll see ghosts," Treble replied, as they inspected the outside. "A dead bum on the other hand..." Bass said, probably a bit too blithely than he should have. "That's not funny!" Balance and Fade said/signed at the same time, and Quentin was also a part of that chorus. Bass gave them a silly look but Treble nudged him sharply and rolled his eyes.   They made note of the exterior, which didn't seem to have been disturbed or lived in for years.  Quentin gingerly inspected the boarded windows with a light, expecting something to be looking at him. Fade was tracking anything she could with her tablet, moving towards the front with Balance as the boys inspected the grounds slowly. "Don't think anyone's been here except thrill seekers," Bass commented as he toed aside an empty beer bottle. "I don't understand," Treble said quietly.  It made Quentin and Bass pause to look at him. "What?" asked the redhead. "A test of courage like that....like....  I don't understand why anyone would want to do something dangerous just for a thrill." Quentin considered that, but Bass looked up at the house thoughtfully. "Its what make some people feel alive I guess," the blonde said.  He put his thumbs in his pockets and cocked his head.  "Like easies....or riding roller coasters, or even doing drugs....  Some people just can't get the juice outta life till they squeeze the really dangerous stuff, you know?" Treble was quiet a long time.  Then, "I know....  But sometimes I wonder...maybe they do that because they're emptier of the things that would normally make them feel alive." Quentin watched them both.  There were times he could sit and listen to Treble and Bass talk and feel like they shut out the rest of the world while they did.  Sometimes it was because they were so into something they just plumb forgot about everyone else.   Times like this, he felt invisible because he knew they were trying to do something on a deeper level.  Get into each other's heads.  It wasn't as uncomfortable as it used to be, he admitted. Before he could add to it, they heard the sound of wood falling down.  Immediately, Treble and Quentin took point back to the front of the house as Bass followed up.   Then something took his attention.  He slowed as the 2 disappeared around the corner.  An unshakable feeling in the pit of his stomach, blossoming.  He looked around for the source, but didn't see anything immediate.  Still it was a gut feeling, like a slow wave of nausea building.  He'd felt it once or twice before, but this was more subtle than he was used to. "The fuck....?"  Instead of following his partner and Quentin, he activated his visor and started a scanning program. Treble and Quentin came to the front door where the boards had been moved aside, some had slipped to the ground with a clatter, which is what the boys heard earlier.  There were no signs of the girls. "Shit, you think they went in??" Quentin asked. Treble inspected the entrance, where wood, debris, and even broken furniture had been blocking the foyer inside.  He could see the telltale prints of sneakers on the thick layer of dust on the debris. "Unfortunately, most certainly."

~~

Balance, while the boys had been in the back, peeked into the front door, scanning for anything.  She turned on her flashlight and peered into the dusty darkness. Fade was behind her, peering in with apprehension. "I don't see much," she said, as she straightened up and started to move some of the wood blocking the way. Fade caught her elbow and shook her head, pointing towards the back.  Let's wait for them, she seemed to say with her yellow green eyes.  They looked a little scared. "I just wanna look in the entrance."  She managed to make a space for her to enter the foyer a bit of the way.  Even with the sun trying to push its way in, it was still unimaginably dim.  She climbed over a broken chest of drawers and part of a dining room chair set as she followed the front door hall.  She was a yard or so in when she pointed her flashlight down the hall and gasped. The hallway walls and floor and ceiling were covered in writing.  It wasn't anything vulgar, obscene or even horrifying.  They had writing, long passages from something she'd longed to read with her own eyes.  Every so often was a signature she'd only seen in blurry internet photographs when she'd gone hunting for them. Trancer 9 Like handwritten scripture on the walls of the duplex were the very passages written in a book rumored to have been lost in the fabled City of Lyrics.  The answers to all her questions for the future of music, the very weapon the rebel networks needed to tear down the Music Corps.  Here, on these walls, like a siren song.  Abandoning Fade, she quickly began to follow the lyrics, the words and passages further into the house. Fade, hearing Balance move away from her, began to panic.  She pounded and smacked at the boards, trying to call her back, but her friend was already moving away, as if in a trance.  Nausea and a small headache had started to build in her, and she quickly turned, thinking she would get the boys to come back.  On the other hand, there was no telling if they were alone in the house.  What if something or someone came for her? Without another thought, Fade quickly scrambled after Balance, kicking over and off the boards and dilapidated furniture to follow her, despite her feelings of sick and dread.  Her own small flashlight barely gave her much light to see, so she used her tablet as a light as she made her way into the hall, and then into what looked to be a living area.  The walls were full of graffiti, holes from vandals or just chipping and peeling paint and wallpaper.  There wasn't a sign of Balance in this room. She was about to head back out to get help when she heard a thump in the next room, probably a hallway or even the kitchen.  She froze, straining her ears, but heard nothing more than her heartbeat, and the silence making the barest of hums, like a slow fan turning.   Not hearing anything else, she cautiously made her way to the hall and looked towards the kitchen.  Nothing. The hall to what she assumed were bedrooms were also dark and empty.  How far did Balance run off to? She turned to the hallway and saw someone standing in it.  She opened her mouth in a silent scream, but the figure only stood and watched her.  With the sun streaming in behind them, it was hard to make them out.  Her body was completely frozen in fear until the figure began to move towards her.  When it was close enough, she could see, amid the backlighting and the haze of dust, it was Treble.   Tearfully she threw herself into his arms, where she sobbed silently, trying to calm down enough to tell him what happened.  His arms closed around her and she felt one of his hands run through her hair softly.  As she caught her breath, she looked up and was about to sign to him what had happened when she froze again, this time in shock. It wasn't Treble anymore. It was Angelo.

~~

Bass came around the corner as Treble was moving aside larger pieces of debris with Quentin hurridly.  "Guys, you gotta hear this."  He was attempting to link what he was tracking to them when he finally noticed what they were doing.  "Whoa.  What happened?" "The girls went inside by themselves," Quentin said, his voice tinged with a little panic. Bass quickly went to the open doorway and peered in.  "Jesus.  Why??" "I have no clue why they would go in by themselves."  Treble unholstered his gun and was about to go in when Bass caught his arm.   "Maybe its this."  He pointed to his visor, so he nodded once and activated his, and Quentin did the same.  Bass shared his headphone input he was receiving.  It was a low hum, and by the look of their HUD sensors, it was unmistakably infrasound.  "Something just started the infra broadcast.  I can't pinpoint all the speakers, but I know they're in there.  Maybe they went in to check it out." Treble glanced at his open texting windows and they were blank.  "If Fade had noticed them, she'd have told us." Bass chewed his bottom lip, and Quentin let out a frustrated exhalation.   "Let's not waste time, let's go get them and get them back out."  Treble led them in, and looked around.  The hallway, and kitchen areas were empty.  Bass took note of the increasing level of infrasound on his visor, but swept the area with his eyes. "Split up?" asked Quentin. "Shit, doncha watch horror movies?" snapped Bass. Treble was moving down to a hall and found a bedroom, where he found Fade collapsed.  Quickly he was gently checking her for injury before moving her too much.  The blonde and redhead were right next behind. "Is she all right?" asked the younger Trancer as Treble gently pulled her into his lap as he checked her. "No, she has a left too," quipped Bass, though his tone wasn't at all joking. Quentin, irritated, snapped, "Damn it, Bass, now's not the time!" Treble shushed them both, but his own unease and irritation was growing as well; perhaps the infrasound was beginning to take its toll.  "She's passed out, but I think she's ok." Instead of coming to, as Treble gently shook her to wake her, she only wordlessly mouthed something over and over. "What's she..." asked Bass, uneasy. Treble paused, watching her, and then, "....I think...its....'Angelo'." Bass started at him as he pushed past Quentin, to kneel at his side.  "Are you sure?" "I know how to read lips.  I'm positive now." The blonde watched her as her half opened, yellow green eyes blankly stared at something far away.  It did seem like she was mouthing those syllables. "Why's she doing that?  He's...."  Bass shook her her a little more forcefully.  "Hey.  Fade.  Come on, babygirl, wake up." Unresponsive, she only lay limply in Treble's arms.  Bass exhaled, and turned to Quentin.  "Hey Quent, can you--" The redhead wasn't anywhere to be seen.

~~

Quentin heard someone calling his name, so he turned to look down the hall as Treble and Bass tried to rouse the poor collapsed girl.  Finding no one in the hall, he went towards the kitchen, following the sound towards the foyer as it led him towards the stairs to the second level.  At the top of the hall was a figure. "The fuck are you?" he asked, drawing his gun.  The figure didn't speak, only moving towards the rooms upstairs, and against his better judgement, Quentin ascended the stairs to follow it.  It wasn't until he followed it to a bedroom and it stopped that he got a better look at it in the dim light coming from the single unboarded window in the staircase hall. They were wearing a Corps suit, with a blue armband with Trancer 0004.  Rust red hair.  Deep green eyes.  Small creases near his mouth and eyes, portraying graceful age.  Quentin nearly dropped his gun. ".....Father....?" HIs father only gave him a small smile.  "My little suzerain...." Quentin shook, as his hands slowly pulled the headphone visor off his face.  "You're...you're not dead....what are you doing here?!"

~~

Bass lifted Fade and Treble followed him back out, as the sun was beginning its climb down the sky.  They had a few hours left before sunset, but it wasn't prudent to push their luck.  Not at this stage. He leaned her against the house in the backyard, and looked up at Treble.  "I don't wanna leave her here by herself." "I'll go back in for them," Treble said as he checked the gun and activated his visor again.   "I don't want you to go in by yourself either." "We don't have a choice.  I don't want her by herself while we're inside.  That may be what they want.  Whoever they are." He exhaled.  "I know but...." Treble reached over and gave his hand a squeeze.  "I'll be careful."  He started back around the house, and Bass decided to make himself useful while standing watch.  He linked up with Fade's tablet and the harddrive, trying to sort out the data he was finding, trying to find a source.  Damned if he wasn't going to try finding the source of the mystery. Treble reentered the house and listened.  He could almost hear that droning, the infrasound that was making them all irritable and sick.  Still, that couldn't be all that was happening.  He was sure he heard voices; Quentin?  Balance?  Someone else?  On a hunch, he started up the stairs when he heard Quentin talking to someone.  He paused, straining his ears, but couldn't hear anyone else. Was he talking to himself?  He frowned.  Infrasound doesn't usually make people talk to themselves.  It merely made them sick, anxious.  Slowly, as silently as he could, he climbed each stair with deliberate slowness.  He couldn't hear the conversation yet but it sounded one-sided. "N...no....  I...I can't.  I can't...go back...." Treble reached the landing, then he heard another sound, a loud thump as if someone had fallen onto the floor.  Still, Quentin continued to speak. It obviously wasn't him. "I....  I want to.  I want to so bad....but I'll be...."  There was a pause, as if someone was talking to him, and yet the TC still couldn't hear them.  Was it possible they were signing to him? The thump had come from another room, and the raven-haired man made the decision to check that first; Quentin was obviously conscious.  Maybe in danger, but not so far.  It was possible that what Treble heard was Balance, and she could need the help more than he.  He found an open bathroom where a light was coming from, floor level, and quickly peeked in. Balance was on the ground, her flashlight on the floor.  He checked the hall, listened for Quentin, then quickly checked on her.  She was breathing, didn't seem to have hurt herself badly, and seemed to also be in the same, half-lidded trance as Fade had been.  He was about to pick her up when he heard the barest sounds of music.  He thought it was being patched from Bass, but it wasn't, through that channel.  He removed one headphone to get a better bead on it. That's when he heard the sound of Quentin hitting the ground in the next room.

~~

Quentin's hands were trembling uncontrollably.  HIs father was supposed to be in Paris.  Why or how was he here?  Of all places, the middle of nowhere, in a supposedly haunted house? And his father wasn't even dead.  As far as he knew, his father was a live and well. "Father, what are you doing here?!" he asked, hoarsely. "I've come to take you home."  His father sat on a dusty table and gave him a gentle look. The redhead fumbled for words.  "Go back...home?  I can't go back!  I'm....Father, I've....I've defected!"  The magnitude of the word slams into him hard, saying it out loud makes the last few months now startlingly real.  After the Sound Tower, he was effectively a dead man.  His father of all people should know that. "Oh son....that won't matter.  Come back home.  I'll take care of everything for you.  You'll never have to worry again." "N...no....  I...I can't.  I can't...go back...."  He shook his head, trying to clear it, but it only became more muddy and foggy.  As small tinny in his ears began, as if there was the sound of a song far, far away, on a radio, barely picking up the signal. "Of course you can, suzerain.  I'll make sure of that." "I....  I want to.  I want to so bad....but I'll be...."   "Nothing is going to happen to you.  I promise.  You'll never have to worry about a single thing anymore." There was a throbbing ache in Quentin's chest.  The thought of going back to the way things were before the tower.  The freedom to play music again, the way he was trained.  The release of all the sleepless nights, never knowing when the Corps would catch up. If...if his father could manage it.... If he could go back to the way things used to be.... His ears were ringing, filling with the deep sounds of music, and his longing was so painful and powerful, he barely registered it.   Where...is that music....coming from....? Quentin dropped to his knees, then to his side, slipping away into the eternal moment of an endless possibility.

~~

Treble could hear it plainly.  It was a gentle ocean of music, so soft he could barely hear it.  He removed his headphones to get a better listen, slowly getting to his feet. He knew it as soon as he could clearly hear it. Ambient. Dealers on the street called it Ambi for short, an offshoot of 303, or Acid.  Insidious stuff, one doesn't understand what's quite happening until its too late.  Once the listener drops into Loss--the feeling nearly all musicians and listeners alike feel when listening to music, where the world can be shut out, and the mind opens into mild suggestion and pacification--the mind picks up and takes over, often inducing visions or hallucinations in the listener.  Acid often delivers highs that the mind quickly finds addictive, causing the abuser to constantly feed their addiction by listening constantly to it, forgoing all necessary functions of life until brain death. Ambi on the other hand is mostly unpredictable, causing hallucinations and visions that one can't tell if they're real or not.  Instead of cutting off the world like 303 might, Ambi augments it, adding to the world the listener still occupies, so that they can't separate illusion from reality.  While it normally lacks the addictive nature of Acid, Ambi still claims its victims every year through manipulation and misuse.  There was a reason it was banned and outlawed, with many Trancers in the Corps being unauthorized to even sample or use it without special granted access. Somehow, amid the infrasound jacking, someone had inserted Ambi into the broadcast.  That was why Quentin had been talking to himself, or Balance had run off, or Fade was lapsed into her litany of her dead fiancee's name. Treble got to his feet and made his way to the hallway to the stairs.  He had to tell Bass.  If they could interrupt the jacking, they could conceivably break the spell over the house, and maybe find the culprit.  He paused at the landing, as the music was now audible enough for him to catch it without having to strain his ears.  With the layer of infrasound, it made for an uncomfortable feeling of nausea and anxiety amid his determination.  Putting a hand to his face and shutting his eyes, he tried to clear his head. Too late, a voice in his head scolded, You idiot!  Put your headphones back on!  You're falling in! That's when he felt arms around himself, warm and comforting.  His instincts, still sharp amid the dulling senses, made him tear himself away and reached for his gun reflexively. Bass was behind him, his eyes puzzled.  Treble let out a sigh of relief. "Damn it, Bass.  You scared the hell out of me."  He shook his head, and reached for his headphones he dropped.  "Bass, we need to get Quent and Balance out.  This place is being pumped full of Ambi." Instead of saying anything, Bass reached for Treble and, with firm force, pushed him to the wall, pinning him.  In shock, his partner looked at him incredulously. "The hell are you doing?!" he cried before his partner leaned in and started to lap hungrily at his neck.  In spite of the situation, the raven-haired TC let out a thin groan before trying to escape.  "Nnn...B-Bass, stop...." But Bass only continued, his hands groping around but still keeping his partner against the wall as he chained kisses from his neck to his ear, then to his mouth where he deepened the kiss.  His tongue darted against Treble's, hot and forceful.  He moaned, trying to protest, but they were drowned out by his partner's lust as they slid to the floor.   Counterpoint to his partner's assault, the music continued as Treble struggled both to throw him off, but also struggling to not fall under that same spell.  He groaned as Bass ground himself against them, trapping Treble as he writhed and tried to rise off the ground. "Stop...!  Bass!  Stop...!  Its the...its the music!  Try to....try to fight it!" He was quickly losing his battle as he found himself returning the kisses and lustful moaning, and just before he became overwhelmed, he had a sinking, terrible thought: This...this isn't Bass....  This...this is me....  I'm....I'm.... He let out one more whimper before shutting his eyes and allowing it to take him over. I'M the one who's under the music.

~~

Bass, after a few minutes, found the source of the infrasound, and tried to isolate the channel.  He frowned as he saw more layers to the audio data flow than he expected.  There was more than the base noise he could feel and hear.  He spent some time tuning it, unpacking it until he found an audio channel and he isolated it further and amplified it. He immediately regretted it.  He knew the type of music within seconds, and he quickly got to his feet.  He made an aching decision and quickly left Fade in the corner and entered the house.  He pulled his own headphones off to hear better, and just above that barely imperceptible hum, he could hear it.  Ambient, and it was in the house.  It wasn't obvious until he reached the stairs and heard a soft groaning. He quickly climbed the stairs and found Treble, on his side in the hallway, trembling, his sapphire colored eyes half open and glazed over, his alabaster skin flushed pink.  He knelt down and touched his partner's shoulder, and he groaned lustfully, softly.   He shut his eyes briefly, calmly listening, then he slid his headphones on, and using Fade's tablet, started to trace the signal.  Outside it was hard to get a bead on it, but inside was a different story.  Almost immediately, the visor began to pick up all the speaker sensors, and he followed them to the back bedroom of the duplex, where it was shut and boarded up.  The boards looked newer, the nails were still slightly shiny, so he found a sturdy chair and began breaking the door down.  It took awhile, but he gained entry into the abandoned room.  A single computer machine was in the back, near the back window, and it was on.  He checked the screen, where a program was running.  Speaker setups were shown to be in every corner of the room.  An infrared sensor was at the entrance of the downstairs foyer, and when tripped, would activate the entire system for just about 48 hours, before shutting down into sleep mode for the next trigger. Bass reached over and yanked as many cords as he could out from the back of the computer.  He checked an impulse to pick up the devil machine and throw it out the window or to the floor.  They would need to investigate it further, of course.  The sounds gone, it was like a weight immediately listed off his shoulders.  He sighed in relief, and leaned against the wall as his thoughts started to collect like rain in a dish left outside in a storm. After a few minutes, he  picked up the keyboard and slammed it repeatedly against the floor, trying to rid himself the the anger he was now feeling.  The betrayal of music.  The mishandling of the art.  The wretched feeling of having someone be taken advantage of. Bass clenched his fists in anger.  How dare they.  How DARE they do this to his friends.  To HIS Treble. He heard someone come in, but he didn't turn around.  He was too angry. He felt Treble wrap his arms around him.  The anger began to evaporate like dew off the grass in the morning. "Let's go home," Treble said quietly.

~~

"I....I didn't know Ambi could do that," Balance said as they debriefed with Pollex, Moebius, and Django on a video call.  Irate at their impromptu investigation, Pollex had to forgive them quickly when they were able to bring back the machine for analysis.  He began to regret giving the EQ unit the autonomy he had, though he couldn't argue with the results.  And in any case, it seemed like Django was additionally grateful. Moebius, dressed in a lazy japanese gakuen style uniform, nodded.  The psychologist conveniently left out her little lead she gave to Quentin, and no one brought it up, thankfully.  "Ambient's pretty potent stuff in the right Trancer hands.  It makes some pretty convincing hallucinations.  Anyone with any sense of Loss is at its mercy, and when it gets combined with some 303 elements, you've got some serious recipes for disaster.  More so with the layer of infrasound." "That was part of why it was so diabolical," Bass replied.  "The infra layer was pretty strong.  It masked the audio layers until I was able to rip and isolate.  That shit ain't kids play; that's some next level mind control shit with the right mix." "If we get a hit on the machine, we'll let you know," Pollex said to Django whom tipped his hat to them. "I'm grateful to you guys," he said.  "Still....don't make it a habit." "They won't," Pollex said, icily, giving them a look.  The 5 responded with varying degrees of shame, from Balance and Quentin with the most, and amusingly Bass with the least.  He ended the call and waved them off.  "You're dismissed....but don't let me catch you doing that kind of stunt again." They filed out of his room as Mo followed them out.  They were on their way back to one of the music practice rooms when Mo piped up. "Actually...if you don't mind me asking....what DID you guys see when you were under Ambi?" Treble simply flushed and glanced to the side as they sat down around the various instruments, himself and Fade at a piano bench, Quentin and Balance on chairs by the guitar rack and Bass, predictably, on the floor, already lighting up. Fade hesitantly signed, I....I saw my late fiancee. Mo gave her a look of sympathy and nodded.  "I'm sorry, sweetie." It looked like Treble at first though.  She flushed a bit and looked at him, and he gave her a questioning look back. "Hmm.  Par for course, I hear.  They can make hallucinations change, depending on mindset." Balance spoke up.  "I...I saw the Book of Trancer 9."  Quentin and Fade looked confused.  "Its...something I've been looking for....it was on all the walls, like writing and stuff...."  She cast her eyes away, embarrassed.  "Never mind...I guess its hard to explain." "You didn't see anyone deceased?" asked Moebius, interested. "No.  I wonder why." "I didn't either..." Quentin said softly.  He was looking at his hands.  "I saw my father.  But he's alive.  And he told me...he wanted me to come back to the Corps." Treble considered that; it made sense for his responses he remembered.   "That's interesting.  Only one person saw the dead." Treble didn't say anything.  The only person he told was Bass, and he was disgusted with himself.  That he had allowed himself to fall under so easily. Bass watched his partner and sighed.  "It would make sense then...for what everyone saw.  The file name for the audio was 'desire'." Mo looked particularly interested.  "Oh so?  Maybe that's why everything was so...varied with you guys.  I mean, I know some people see deceased loved ones, according to the rumors.  Most everyone does.  I guess if they heard the rumors, their inner desires would manifest illusions of their dead loved ones.  On the other hand, yours all seem to...tie into your deeper desires.  I assume."  She gave a quick pointed look at Treble, whom evaded the look by setting himself at the piano and beginning to play.  She gave him a disgruntled look of disappointment then stood up.  "Well, if you guys wanna unpack it, you know where to find me."  She headed for the door, and Bass followed her out.  She looked to Bass, as he was heading down the corridor towards the drink vending machine.  As he fed the machine his card, she poked him on the arm. "What about you, candycons?" Bass shrugged.  "I didn't see anything actually." She blinked.  "Really?" "I don't Loss.  So Ambi doesn't work on me.  It never has." She was quiet a long time.  Then, "What about your Acid reaction?" He was also quiet a long time, sipping his bottle of water as his deep black eyes stared off onto some unseen point. "Acid's different.  You said it yourself.  Rejection Fallout.  I'm having an allergic reaction to the music....not falling under its Loss.  Or whatever." They were silent in the hallway a long time.  Moebius sighed, then gave him a reassuring ruffle to his hair. "You're lucky you're Lossless.  That's a really rare quality."  She started down the hall, and was around the corner before Bass also sighed. He leaned his head against the wall and looked at the ceiling with a look of unease.  "I have loss in other ways, sweetheart.  And I'd never call it a good trade off."