#my spanish is garbage but I could get around if I needed to

[eleanordol]

to be loved is to be changed.

💛— warnings. MURDER, sexual slavery mention, slut is said a bunch, bad injuries mention, hospital mention, blood, angst. a whole lot of shit in here really. No actual sex tho.

💛— synopsis. When Eleanor returns seriously injured after Bailey rented her out, Whitney has to deal with his complicated emotions. Bailey has plans to exploit those emotions, changing everything forever.

💛— wordcount. 2497

🎵 Foals - Spanish Sahara

this is part of the Eleanor Lore Series

one. (you are here!)

two.

random thoughts post

He sat cross-legged on the floor, his head resting against her bed, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest as she slept. He hadn’t been around when she was awake. He had to continue on with his life as normal—going to school so he wouldn’t get kicked out, running errands for Bailey, and keeping up some kind of appearance in his social circles.

All the while, his mind wandered to her, lying here in silence.

Most of her body was wrapped in gauze bandages, red spots of blood soaking through in places that shifted when she moved in her sleep. The bandages needed to be changed regularly to keep the wounds clean.

It felt like a hole had opened beneath him, swallowing him whole and spitting him out into a reality he didn’t want to be in—but one he couldn’t leave.

Eleanor had been missing for six days. Robin had run to find him when she noticed. He had been overly confident that he could find her. He knew all the places she frequented, knew the places she could have been sold to. He tried to reach out to her employers for help, only to come up with nothing. By the third day, he felt defeated, succumbing to the unease that had been growing in the back of his mind.

The culprit avoided him, avoiding her duties at the orphanage for those few days. Then, on the fourth day, she returned like nothing had happened, letting Robin know that Eleanor was due back in three days as per her rental contract. Robin relayed this message to him with her head down, avoiding eye contact.

On the seventh day, Eleanor was returned.

In a hurry, she was unceremoniously thrown out of a car onto the front yard���discarded like garbage. Left for dead.

Hell, she was almost dead, if Robin could be believed.

Her limbs were contorted in unnatural positions, her eyes dull and unfocused.

Despite that, Bailey didn’t let her stay in the hospital, only allowing professionals to clean her up and tend to her injuries before bringing her home. Drugging her every eight hours on the clock—to stop her from feeling pain, to keep her asleep and quiet.

He wasn’t there when she was brought back. Robin had only found out after she came home from selling lemonade.

Eleanor didn’t speak to anyone during the rare moments she was awake. And those moments were few and far between. Only awake to eat, drink, and be cleaned up before being drugged again.

He wanted to catch her when she was awake—to see her eyes open.

The sharp click of high heels caught his attention, pulling him from the despair swirling in his head.

Bailey was approaching.

She stood in the doorway, imposing as ever.

“My office. Now,” she barked harshly before turning on her heel and walking away.

—

Whitney stood in front of her desk, weight shifting between his feet, waiting as Bailey sifted through her filing cabinets. She pulled out papers, tossing them into a manila folder.

“I have a job for you,” she said, breaking the silence as she sat at her desk.

“Yeah? Same as usual?” he replied.

“This one is different.” She gently pushed the folder closer. “As you know, contracts are very important to me. And recently, a client broke their agreement.”

Whitney opened the folder to see a picture of a perfectly average-looking man—probably in his late forties or early fifties. The kind of guy you’d pass on the street and forget the moment you looked away.

He turned the page. A dossier detailed the man’s personal information—name, address, date of birth. Fifty-one years old, owned a few businesses in the shopping centre, had a wife and two kids.  Photos of his family were paper-clipped together; they looked happy.

“That gentleman rented my girl and—”

“My girl,” Whitney abruptly cut her off.

Bailey rolled her eyes. “Whatever, little boy. He rented her and left her in a terrible state. That was specifically against the agreement.”

Whitney’s jaw tensed, hot anger starting to burn in his chest. “What do you want, then?”

“Send a message.” She grinned. “You’re going to do whatever you feel is appropriate.”

“You want me to get thrown in jail?” He crossed his arms, meeting her gaze with equal intensity.

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” She laughed, waving away his concerns. “They could catch you red-handed, and I’d make it go away. No, what I want to see is how far you’re willing to go for love.”

“What the fuck?” His anger swiftly gave way to confusion, a faint blush dusting his cheeks.

“Kill him, and Eleanor gets two months to recover—without charge,” she said plainly, as if her request was the simplest thing in the world. “Rough him up or scare him, and I can’t guarantee anything. Maybe the last picture in the folder will give you some heroic motivation bullshit.”

Cautiously, he flipped the page, not breaking eye contact with Bailey for a few seconds before lowering his gaze.

The photo was of Eleanor.

Hogtied.

A rope around her neck.

More bruise than human being.

Bile crawled up his throat. He covered his mouth to steady himself, breathing heavily to fight the urge to vomit.  The photos were reminiscent of crime scene photos.  Unrelenting sorrow clawed at his skull, eyes wide he looked back at Bailey.  Her smile as sickly poisonous as ever.

“It's midnight right now and my former client usually leaves the strip club at two in the morning,” she laced her fingers together, resting her chin on her hands, “I’ll see you in a few hours then?  Oh, and before I forget, Eleanor wakes up at three so do make it quick.”

-

This was most certainly a trap.

Whitney closed his eyes as he took a long drag of his cigarette, exhaling slowly as he leaned against a dumpster in the alley beside the strip club. He waited patiently for his prey, his mind running through the chain of events that had led him here.

Bailey wanted more leverage against him. Owning his girlfriend wasn’t enough—she needed to remind him of his place. He had to admit, in a sick way, he admired her. She got shit done and had half the city under her thumb. But this time, she was pushing him too far.

His fatal flaw? He loved Eleanor. Had this been earlier in their relationship, he would have cut and run. No slut was worth this much bullshit. Running drugs and collecting money? Sure, that was typical shit in this godforsaken town. But murder? He shuddered as the gruesome photos flashed in his memory. Why the fuck not?

From the shadows, he watched patrons trickle out of the club—mostly old men, a few women, and one man in his fifties who looked strung the fuck out. That must be him. Whitney's jaw clenched. The idea of that fucking pig renting Eleanor made his skin crawl.

His knife felt heavy in his pocket, its weight pressing against his palm. A few more minutes. Just a few more to steel his resolve.

The man stumbled onto the sidewalk, laughing with his equally drunk friends outside the club. A weekday night, and they were already wasted beyond reason. Whitney pulled his hood over his head, eyes narrowing as his target broke away from the group, heading down the street alone.

He followed, keeping his distance, sticking to alleys when he could, avoiding the streetlights. When the man took a detour through the park, Whitney’s pulse quickened. Perfect.

Through the trees, under the cover of darkness, he stalked him. Waiting. Watching. Biding his time for the right moment.

Behind the bathroom building, he struck.

A firm hand yanked the man back, shoving him against the concrete wall. The cold steel of a knife pressed against his neck.

“Please… please don’t hurt me! You can take my wallet!” The man’s voice trembled as he winced, his arm pinned painfully behind his back.

“You wish this was a robbery, mate.” Whitney’s voice was low, steady. “Bailey sends her regards.”

The man’s eyes widened. “What the fuck? Are you fucking kidding me?”

Whitney pressed the knife harder against his throat. “Bailey’s holding onto something that belongs to me, and you didn’t follow the rules. You know that bitch loves her contracts.”

“Oh, fuck off.” The man twisted suddenly, surprising Whitney with a burst of strength. He slammed a fist into Whitney’s face, the impact more forceful than expected for someone his age.

Pain exploded across Whitney’s cheek as he stumbled back. The man didn’t hesitate, lunging forward, his second punch landing square against Whitney’s jaw.

“I’m not dying over that fucking slut!” he spat, voice rough with age and cigarettes.

Rage boiled inside Whitney. He lunged, tackling the older man to the ground. They hit the dirt in a heap, fists flying, limbs tangling in a desperate struggle for dominance.

The man grunted, gripping Whitney’s wrist as they wrestled for control. “Are you the loser—” he panted, shifting his weight to pin Whitney down. “Are you the fucking loser she cried for the whole time?”

Whitney’s heart pounded in his ears. His muscles burned as he fought to free himself.

“She bawled like a bitch for you to save her.”

That was all it took.

With a surge of strength, Whitney shoved the man off him, rolling free just as his hand found the knife again. He barely registered the pain when his opponent threw a rock at his head. Adrenaline numbed it. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except ending this fucker.

His grip tightened around the handle, and with a roar, he plunged the knife into the man’s chest.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

The man gasped, eyes wide with shock. Whitney didn’t stop.

Four. Five. Six. Seven.

Over and over and over.

By the time he finally stopped, his breath was ragged, his hands slick with blood, and the night around him eerily silent.

There was no going back now.

-

The trek back to the orphanage was a blur. His face burned, and he spat blood the whole way there.

Everyone with any sense was sleeping. Only the soft glow from the lamp in Bailey’s office lit the quiet hallway.

But there was no one there. Only a letter, a trash bag, and some clothing.

Good work, kid.

Put your clothing in the trash bag. I can clean it for you. Go take a shower, and don’t forget to bring Eleanor something to eat at three. Give her only one pill from the bottle at her bedside, or you’ll kill her, and after all the trouble you went to, that would be a tragedy. You can eat something too, I suppose. You earned it.

—Bailey.

Her letters were just as unsettling as her presence. Still, he did as she requested, taking the trash bag and clothing with him to the bathroom.

The hot water soothed his sore muscles. As his adrenaline faded, his body allowed him to truly feel the pain. What the fuck had he just done? Holy shit. It all hit him at once, like a freight train.

He had killed a man for a fucking girl.

Bloody water ran down the drain as he scrubbed all evidence of the night off his body.

He towel-dried his hair, putting on the shirt and sweatpants he was pretty sure were his to begin with. He must have left them here, and Bailey found them. Weird.

His bloody clothes secure in the black bag, he tossed them into the office on his way to the kitchen.

He helped himself to some deli ham and bread to make a sandwich for himself and Eleanor to share. He didn’t think she’d be very hungry in her condition.

This was so fucking stupid. How could he have done this? How could he be doing this?

He took a deep breath before entering her room. Where did these nerves come from?

She wasn’t sitting up—she probably wasn’t able to—but she did move when she heard the door open and close. Her eyes lit up when he sat on the floor beside her bed, placing a glass of water on her bedside table.

He didn’t look at her, instead focusing on the floor. “Hey, slut, I brought you a sandwich,” he said with a half-smile.

Her hands reached for him, touching his deeply bruised cheek.

“I got into a scrap. It’s nothing.” Finally, he turned his head to look at her.

She was smiling, tears welling in the corner of her uncovered eye.

It softened his face a little.

Fuck, this was a mess.

-

Half a pill was probably enough.

Whitney pressed along the dividing line of the pill with the bottle's cap, snapping it in half about as cleanly as he could manage right now. Pills weren't normally his scene, but the ache in his jaw compelled him. His eyes glanced down at Eleanor sleeping; one pill had knocked her completely on her ass. She was short and fairly thin, though, so it made some sense.

He winced thinking about the pain she must be in. When the drugs wore off, she would shift uncomfortably, looking for a position where everything would stop hurting.  She had refused his help when she got up to go to the bathroom. Her every step had been slow and unsteady.

There was a tightness in his chest. Bailey's manipulation had been flawless, controlling emotional responses he didn't know he had.

Taking a swig of her water, he swallowed the half-pill. Carefully climbing over her onto the side of the bed he was used to, he lay on his back, staring at the ceiling where she had stuck glow-in-the-dark stars with blue tack. She didn't stir from her rest despite him having all the grace of a drunkard.

A fuzzy warmth radiated from the middle of his body, creeping along his bloodstream. His sore muscles lost their soreness. He could totally see why this was so popular among people who were more wasteful of their lives than he was.

Well, now his life was probably fucked forever. He had fucked it up for her, like a fucking idiot. He was stupid. It wasn't even just for pussy. She was just so uniquely her. The way she matched his freak, pulling him into pranks he intended to humiliate her and turning them into something fun and stupid. Her unwavering kindness when he absolutely did not deserve it. If she had died, his life would be worse forever.

His hand found hers, gently rubbing his thumb across her palm. One of her fingers was done up in a splint. Broken. Her nails were cracked and splintered. Knuckles bruised. It was like she had been in a fucking plane crash.

The pain in his jaw was gone. Modern medicine was amazing. His teeth were probably fucked on that side. At least one felt like it had broken.

[traveller-of-the-knight]

Blind Reflections Chapter 1 "Willing to die"

So this is basically a Moon Knight x Daredevil fanfic that is also a Moon Knight x Jessica Jones fanfic. You don't need to know shit about Daredevil or Jessica Jones, just know that this fic is very Jake Lockley centered and I will do a deep dive into his character and his past.

(Punisher, Spiderman, Layla along with Marc and Steven will be on the next chapters)

Words: 8.5K

Warnings: Canon typical violence, yeap I don't speak Spanish please correct me, very very temporary character death.

You can find it on AO3 here

ENJOY!

Matt Murdoc was… Confused to say the least, weirded out you may say. He’s been in many fights before: gangs, crime lords, ancient ninjas, blood thirsty vigilantes, dead girlfriends, you name it! But this… This was something the wasn’t prepared for. The strangest encounter he had yet to face. And that was only the first step into the maze that is Moon Knight’s reality.

The night started as normal as it could get for someone like him. A few punches here there, a couple of knife cuts and some missed gunshots -you know, the uzhe. Which lead him stalking a complex of ship containers next to the Hadson River, waiting to ambush an arms trade from Egypt. If what “punched-out-criminal-number-four” told him is true, these weapons can’t fall into the wrong hands.

So, he waited for what seemed like hours on a building not too far away from the target. He didn’t need to be that close anyway. Besides he got a clearer image of his surroundings that way, without having to deal too much with the unpleasant odors of the river.

Still, he found himself wondering around with all for his senses. The warm wind made the otherwise cold and humid night more tolerable. He could feel it breaking through his shirt, making him shiver in the sudden change of temperature as the soft fabric hugged his skin.

He took his blindfold off, to let his face breath in the New York night. As he did, the smells he wanted to avoid hit him all too fast. Rotten fish, garbage leaking out into the muddy waters and the industrial revolution making itself present, even to this day. But it wasn’t all that bad after all. He isolated the traces of the afternoon’s rain on the soil mixed with churchy leaves, as they were stepped on by a young couple.

He heard them laughing and do happy little dances around each other. It is beautiful, having someone like that in your life. Someone who stays longer than a month, someone who understands what you must do and won’t try to keep you away from it, or even worse, judge you and leave due to that.

A new presence pulled him out of his thoughts. Someone was running from building-to-building heading towards the river. This can’t be good. He put the blindfold back on and focused on the potential threat.

It was only a man, out of breath, trying to keep up a conversation regardless the circumstances. Matt couldn’t hear the other side of it, or even feel the other person, but it was probably just an earpiece…

Well… he was very wrong. On his defense who could have guested what was actually happening!

Instead of another man he was accompanied by the wind. It was growing stronger and more violent around him, when it reached Matt the comfort of his warm clothes was utterly gone and he could only feel an unearthly chill, making him freeze to the bone.

Suddenly the wind became aggressive, lifting all the trash left on the poor rooftops and dropping them into the ground with force, like a child throwing a tantrum.

“We are not too late!”, said the man. He had an accent that Matt couldn’t really place, he sounded like he lived in New York for a while but there was also something… South American he quested in his pronunciation but also soft and rhythmic like Italian. Besides that, his tone wasn’t soft, he sounded exhausted and slightly pissed but he did his best to refrain himself.

“We don’t know that my son. They have tricked us before.”, answered the wind. But its words were undetectable, even for Matt’s delicate ears.

Fortunately, the only man capable of hearing them, is always surrounded by that wind, to hear all of its demands and pain. That man of course, was no other than Jake Lockley.

Jake Lockley is a strange man. He likes to drink his coffee black, but occasionally he’ll order “a gingerbread-almond-milk-late, with some caramel syrup and whipped cream on top of it” just because “it reminds me of an old friend”, even though he doesn’t seem like the kind of  man who’d let himself get that sentimental. He also always likes to wear his hat. And I mean always. He’ll take of his jacket, if he ever comes to your place, heck, he’ll even take his shoes off, if you want him to. But no, never his hat.

People who know him have their theories. Some say that he’s probably bolding at a young age, emphasizing the later, because even though he looked young, his demeanors made him look at least a decade older. Others say that his grandfather, moments before he died, gifted him the hat, which belonged in the family for many generations, and made him promise to never take it off. That theory sounds dumb, but you can never be too sure about anything when it comes to him. He’s a man surrounded by an aura of mystery and the skill to trick others into thinking that he’s an open book. That’s how dangerous he is.

Only one man is capable of breaking through his many layers of armor. Well… Not actually a “man”, but a bird. A six-thousand-year-old bird, or maybe just what remained of him in his flowing-head skeleton or whatever the fuck is that. But he sounds like a man, or just a stupid pigeon -your choice, his avatars will probably agree with you regardless. He on the other hand… He’ll prefer the name Khonshu. Khonshu, the protector of all who travel by night. Khonshu, the God of the stary sky. Khonshu, the one who seeks vengeance on anyone hurting the travelers under his domain. Khonshu, the owner of the voice that made the air run cold with fear. Khonshu who spoke to his priest in with caution.

“There is another traveler.”

Jake stopped his marathon to spot him.

“¿Cómo?”, he looked around, “¿Dónde mierda está?! Oh…” (What now? Where the fuck is he?) Jake noticed a man dressed head to toe in black, he looked dumb. Dumb, and intimidating -just like him.

“Fucking. Great.” he exhaled with frustration, “…El Diablo.” He lifted his hands in the air and yes, he tended to do that a lot when he spoke “Of course! Hell’s Kitchen!” he rested his palm on his forehead, “why am I even surprised…” he waved his arms again “Ah, I should have seen this coming from miles away!”, he whispered the last part to himself, so the God wouldn’t join in the mockery.

“I think he can hear you…”

He whistled to get his attention, in response Matt flinched, covering his ears.

“Hey Diablo”, Jake greeted without bothering to raise his voice, despite the distance, calm and charming as always. “Would you mind leaving this one on me?” he continued but his calmness carefully unveiled a threat as he spoke more seriously, lowering his eyebrows.

No response.

Maybe some response but he couldn’t hear it, obviously.

“Can you hear me?”

Matt stood up.

“Great, I-”

And then jumped right into action.

“Ah... Shit.”

“This is going to be a pain in the ass” said Khonshu as Jake ran to catch up.

It took a moment to approach the containers, but when he did, he saw about ten men, all armed. Most of whom were looking alarmed, aiming their guns at random spots in the sky with the sliest of sounds, looking around like idiots. Four more were already knocked out by a threat they didn’t see coming.

“There!” One of them yelled, pointing on top of a cargo at pour Jake, who hadn’t even touch them (yet).

“Joder.” (fuck)

The men started to empty their guns at him. He quickly leaned back to escape their range. He wasn’t fast enough though his tie revealed, as it billowed in front of his face framing the enemy around a hole that wasn’t there before.

One bullet too close to him. Then another one as he ducked scratched the flesh underneath his ear. At that moment Marc or Steven would have summoned the suit. Jake on the other hand, wasn’t a big fan of it.

He sticked on summoning it just enough to cover his wound, leaving the bandages loose to fly around in the air as the rest of him remained in his usual clothing.

Khonshu looked down at his avatar “You’re pathetic Lockley.”

“El Diablo… The Devil… ¿Dónde está?” (where is he) Jake asked, taking deep and controlled breaths to cancel out the pain and ignore the insult.

“Taking care of another business. Don’t tell me you thought it would be only them.”

“How- how many more?”

“Can’t tell.”

One of the men sneaked in from a different angle to shout at him as he was distracted. This one managed to hit his shoulder. He did his best not to scream as he was pushed back by the force of the bullet and gritted his teeth making a hissing sound as he crawled back, away from their range, pulling his gun out.

“Don’t waste all your strength at them. Finish them quickly and move on.”

“They are not who we are looking for, solo están- (they are just)”

“Don’t you trust me? …Jake mijo (my son)… Look at you! You’re already holding a gun.”

Jake looked at his ghoulish skeleton. He was right. Turns out he knew him all too well.

“Stand up. Raise and fight them, just how I taught you.”

And just like that Khonshu summoned the suit. White bandages were crafted out of the wind’s swirls, embroider themselves deep around Jake’s wound. And from there, just if they had dived inside his veins, they started to shallow his body, tightly holding him together as they settled in their proper positions. If you were to pay closer attention, you’d see that for a moment those bandages resembled puppet strings, illumined by the moon light, being handled by the sky lifting his body up without his will. It looked painful, but then again, all healing is painful in its own way.

The suit was different than Marc and Steven’s. It wasn’t all that put together, bandages were dirty and loose, like they were flying in the wind but still bright like the moon. The shapes they made weren’t all that unique, if he was a mummy, archeologists would say that it belonged to a worker, or even a slave. His cape also matched the rest of his outfit, looking as old as Khonshu, torn apart like the faith on a forgotten god, trying to fight his way through the human mind. He was an old script, a papyrus of dusty prayers and a place of worship and sacrifice for just before  war. So holly his skin burned, a saint who owned his place though sin.

It took him a moment to get used to the cold grip of the armor on his burning body. It felt exactly how it looked like. A prison, a cell big enough as his body, with only a small window around his eyes, connecting him to the world, bringing the New York breeze on the bridge of his nose.

Gunshots brought him back to reality. He sighed and turned around, so his cape was facing the shooters -it was either that or approaching them like Dracula. He- He wouldn’t do that.  He wasn’t sure if any of this round’s bullets had reached him, if they did, they must have healed faster than adrenaline runs out. Those who definitely didn’t reach him, ricocheted from his cape. From the sound of it, one of the enemies was down. From the following sound, one dropped his gun and run away. And from the next, another one followed him.

Jake carefully turned to face them. One man on the ground and the two deserters making their escape as the other’s brain stopped working trying to figure out how to kill a bulletproof man.

“What are you waiting for?”, said the god, “You don’t have all night.”

But Jake did nothing, he just stood there locking eyes with a shouter who had lowered his gun. He was speechless, probably no one had warned him that he would go up against a superhuman. Was their boss really that ignorant?

“Lockley.” The unearthly voice spoke again, angrier this time. He had barely managed to focus on it when another bullet hit him, right under his stomach. That wasn’t right, he wouldn’t be able to feel it for more than a second, he should have healed, he should have-

A scream escaped his lungs he couldn’t stop it as he kneeled on the ground his left hand trying to keep as much blood inside as possible.

“When will you learn.”

“He can be shot! Avoid the cape!” his shouter yelled.

Even through his gloves and bandages he was too familiar with the weight on his palm, to recognize it immediately: his pistol, still in his hand, ready to be used any second now.

I have to, don’t I?

And there, as he laid one with the cold surface of the cargo trying to keep himself from making another sound, he stretched his right arm towards the men trying to get away, he pulled the trigger and watched in horror as a bullet came out of his gun, hitting the closest one in the head and yet another one piercing through the other’s back.

The god took a long and arrogant breath and Jake felt a shiver running through his body. Not sure whether that was a good sign or not, but soon enough, he began to heal.

“Don’t make me regret this.”

“No, padre.” (No, father) he promised, his name poison on his tongue, or maybe just an icky medicine that children hate, even if it’s for their own good.

He jumped from the container, the wound being still fresh, tearing him with every move as he landed on one of the men, kicking him to the ground. He tried to get up, but Jake’s fists got to him first, he then took his gun, disarmed it, and hit him in the face with it.

The other’s circled him, still insisting to use guns. “Ah, not this again”, Jake thought as bullets started flow. One of them was shot by his own fire… Again. “What are they stupid?!”, he continued his inner monologue as he turned around, flipping his cape so hard, that he managed to drop everybody’s guns, hitting their hands in the prosses.

Two people rushed to grab his arms and pushed him backwards. Jake tried to flex his legs and run vertically on the container to escape them, but his attempt was cut short. A fisher’s rope was forced on his neck pulling him even harder as he choked. He could feel his sight getting darker as he gasped for air. He balanced his feet and despite all of his instincts pushed forward just enough to grab a dart from his chest and desperately stab the man behind him. He wasn’t even sure if any of his hits were delivered or even where, he just held on to the dart tightly, moving his arm repeatedly as fast as he could, like a fish in the shore flipping its tail for a change to come back into the waters.

The man let go of his arm, but he wasn’t the one holding the rope. With one move he put all of his weight on his right side and turned slightly to see the man holding his left arm. He threw the dart at him, forcing him to let go.

His arms were free, and he wasted no time. He found the hands holding the rope, grabbed them and flipped the man over his head. He fell with a loud noise on a container. He was the last one.

Jake walked slowly towards him taking deep breaths and kicked him like a rug when he tried to get up.

“Stay down puta!” He yelled, voice rusty and painful from the choking.

He didn’t listen.

“I said: Stay. Down.”

He put his boot on his head and shoved it on the ground, twisting his foot like stepping on a cigarette bud.

“There… there…”

And kneeled over him.

“So… Now is the time where you tell me who your boss is.”

The man didn’t answer so Jake decided to offer him a deal.

“I was in a good mood today, you know that? Real good mood until one of you fuckers ruined my night. But I guess it can still be saved for both of us, no need for any more violence just a simple conversation -you know.”

The man stared at his eyes and asked.

“Who do you work for?”

“I serve no man.”

“Mogart? Hydra? I know a mercenary when I see one.”

He took a deep annoyed breath “The only think there is to know about me, is that I’m holding the gun.”

“He has no name. The man you’re looking for, has no name!”

“That was helpful”, he said ironically stepping harder on his head.

And just as he did that a flying stick hit him on the neck.

“Don’t touch him.” a new voice said.

S-steven? Jake asked himself.

No!

Steven no, listen-

I- I’m-

I’m sorry, I had no choice, trust me that’s not who I am!

that’s not who any of us is, especially you!           

Don’t you ever forget that, not like Marc did

No.

Not like Marc

Not this time

.

You didn’t need to see this- I won’t hurt him I’m bluffing.

Just bluffing I swear!

This is all just an act

an act

.

An act,

.

.

.

Just an act…

…

Steven?

No

No, that-

No, that’s not possible-

“WHO?!” Jake asked out loud.

He didn’t realize but the guy under his shoe had escaped. Was he knocked out or just dissociating? He couldn’t tell but he was present now, conscious, mostly. He turned around and saw a man with a black cloth covering his eyes.

“…Diablo …What did I tell you?” he threatened as he slowly stood up.

“You killed those men. Why?”

“Why don’t you tell me? You got to them first.”

“I didn’t kill them.”

“But I did, what’s the point?”

“You can’t make decisions like that! You’re not-”

Jake laughed and answered after a moment like it was a hilarious fact that felt more personal to him.

“Only “God” can make these decisions, am I right?” His voice cracked at the end just for a moment, a moment that made Matt feel like the man in front of him could break down saying these words, or maybe he has already. But that was just Matt’s senses, no one other than him could see Jake’s true emotions, himself included.

“Don’t tell me you see yourself as a god.” Were the only words that could escape Matt’s mouth that wouldn’t change the subject.

Jake laughed again, softer this time. “God of getting myself in annoying situations...”

“Is that what death is to you? An annoyance?” He continued, trying to read him even though he already understood that all of his questions were heading in the wrong direction.

Jake tried to think fast and his experience of dying made up his answer quickly “Well it is annoying if you think about it enough.”

Matt got confused by his words, he wasn’t talking about killing. No, he knew what dying feels like- but how? He took a step forward, stepping under the moon light to ask Jake the first right question. “Who are you?”

A blue light. It’s illuminating on gold feathers.

So bright that it almost blinded Jake.

A hand toughed his chest like it was gabbing itself from his heartbeat.

Voices.

But- we have each other, right?

I’ll always be here for you.

Don’t leave me!

I won’t leave you!

You lied.

You lied.

You lied.

You can never be whole.

You’re too broken Spector.

But- we are a team ain’t we? We are one!

…Don’t make me laugh!

.

.

.

You lied Lockley…

To all of them you lied…

To yourself you lied…

You are the weak link…

And you were supposed to bring them together,

Instead you teared them apart,

Just because you were afraid.

.

.

.

The hand let go of Jake and in the faded lights he saw three silhouettes. They were young boys, but they suddenly grew older and more violent, running towards Jake. He covered  the eyes of two little boys standing next to him. He didn’t realize when they appeared. Maybe they were there all along. Together.

Together Jake,

.

together.

.

.

.

Together

.

.

“What were you doing with Fisk’s men?”

The light was gone, so were the voices. Now Jake was standing again alone in front of Matt, probably looking like an idiot, trying to figure out… Everything. This had never happened before. No this-

“Why did you do that?”

“I- I didn’t… My boss…” Jake answered trying hard to put together a sentence as his mind drifted away.

Fisk.

“Fisk!” He said, finally holding on one thought, “Is he the no-name guy?”

Matt answered something but Khonshu’s voice covered it.

“Did you sense it?”

“What?” Jake asked hopping that either of them would elaborate further.

“I said you must be new in Manhattan.” Diablo answered.

“Hardly”

“He has it.” Khonshu declared, covering Matt’s voice for once more.

“Has what?”

“What?”

“THE AMULET YOU FOOL!”

For the first time Jake took closer attention to Matt. His clothes were dirty, and his fists covered in blood, a feeling way to familiar for him. Seeing him like this… he wanted to tell him that he knew how hard it was, bringing justice, vengeance while being only a human. To tell him that it’s ok to lose some battles, to take a break, to forgive himself for all the lives he couldn’t save. He wanted to-

He's carrying a bag. Did he had it before? Is the amulet-

“Yes, it’s in the bag! Get it!” Khonshu ordered.

“You have something that doesn’t belong to you…”, Jake threatened, “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into, kiddo… You better return it so I can give it to its rightful owner.”

“Kiddo? How old do you think I am?”

“Well, you’re still playing ninjas in your pajamas...” Jake lifted his eyebrow underneath the mask.

“Lockley, what are you doing?! Get it now!” Khonshu interrupted again with his annoying voice.

“Ugh, look I don’t wanna fight, if you could just hand it over to me, it will all be over.”

Matt stepped back to protect his bag from Jake.

“What is it?”

“Nothing you should be worried about.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“You should. You don’t want the danger associated with it.”

“They said there would be weapons.”

“You think you want the danger, don’t you?”

“Is this a key?”

“Dios mío, es estúpido!” (My God he’s stupid) He said frustrated, looking at the sky.

“No soy tan estúpido como para dártelo” (Not stupid enough to hand it to you)

Jake was surprised with the white boy’s accent but felt mostly irritated, he wanted the privacy of expressing himself in a language only he could understand, and his Yiddish wasn’t that good.

“Wow… hablas español… estoy tan impresionado…” (Wow… You speak Spanish… I’m very impressed) Jake pointed out unimpressed.

“Nop, creo que eres.” (Nah, I think you are)

“…Sabelotodo.” (Smartass)

“Stay down!” Sabelotodo yelled at Jake as he ducked a bullet coming from across the river.

“How the fuck did you do that?!”

“I’ll tell you another time.” He answered as he started to run away from the containers.

“Espera!” (Wait!) Jake called as he tried to catch up, but Matt just ignored him, heading for the nearby buildings.

“Diablo!” he yelled again when he saw a van with broken windows following him. It was speeding up, ready to hit him when he jumped and started climbing up a building. Two men fired at him from the windows, but he always knew where the bullets were aimed at and avoided them with ease.

Jake jumped from a container to the top of the van, startling the men. A voice inside of him pleaded to kill them, an easy kill it wouldn’t take more than-

But Jake didn’t listen, he didn’t like that voice. He didn’t know to who it belonged to, it was all too blended, without any sign of getting clearer. Who knew, maybe it was only him showing his true nature …Nah… That’s more of a “Marc guilt trip situation”, he knows better than that.

The men kept trying to shoot Matt and he did well by himself, but for how long? He couldn’t be trusted to get out of this alone! He‘d never heard about the infamous Daredevil being bulletproof or having any powers of that sort. He had to save him.

So he broke the windshield with his elbow and got into the van. He fought for the control of the wheel and after a series of slaps and punches he managed to take hold of it and veered it all the way to the left. Like a train going of the tracks, the vehicle crashed into a dumpster as he made an exit, jumping out of the window and roll all the way on a wall across the street.

“That was… Wow…” Matt thought as he heard the wheels squeaking and two crashes one after another. He stopped for a moment and focused on the man at the bottom of the building. He did all that to save him… Why?

But he couldn’t stay longer, more men were following them, some up ahead, he needed to escape. As soon as he heard the man breathing.

.

.

.

He’s breathing.

.

Ok, time to go.

“Diablo!” Jake groaned again. Matt wanted to stop, he wanted to return the favor even if the man was dangerous to him. But he had to leave him on his own. “He’ll make it... I think”.

Jake stood up, with the power of the suit and begun to climb the fire escape, but Matt had already reached the top. There he sensed more men, running on the roofs of the nearby buildings. He took a moment to stabilize his breathing and slow his heartbeat; there was more to this fight.

“Stop running away!” Jake yelled at him from two floors below.

“Shhh! I We’re surrounded.” Matt whispered.

“What?!” Jake yelled from a floor below and in response Matt shushed him, louder this time.

“Ok, ok, calms!” he finally whispered as he reached Matt.

“They’re after us. Three of them almost here.” Matt informed him in the same volume.

“You know you don’t have to do this.”

“Protect my city?”

“Getting involved in my business.”

“Who even are you? I’ve never seen you before.”

“You don’t need to run away from these men, they’re after the artifact not you. If you just-” Jake suggested as he slowly moved his arm near the bag. But Matt had enough of it

He yelled “No!” despite insisting on whispering and twisted Jake’s arm. But Jake didn’t act hurt, instead he scolded him with a shush. “We don’t have time for that, lets run away from here with the amulet! Together, ok? Whatever! Just- we need to leave now!” but Matt had already made his mind.

“Get away from here!” he ordered him, and then pushed him down the stairs to get the lead.

He then ran to the rooftop and realized that the men had really circled him from the surrounding buildings. He chose to head away from the river parkouring his way out towards one of them. The man was getting closer to him, and he started to fire, but he avoided the bullets, hiding behind metal doors and walls and just dogging them as well as he could.

It didn’t last long though. He was too focused on the man ahead and got distracted by the rest of them, two rooftops to the left yelling.

“Kill the Devil and don’t let Moon Knight get the thing!”

The other man shot right next to Matt’s ear making all of his senses blank for a moment leading him to fall to the roof below him, damaging his leg in the process.

“I GOT HIM!”

“Run, get the stuff!”

He took a moment to breathe, from what he could tell, his leg wasn’t fractured but it still hurt like hell. Thankfully, he was used to fighting with even more painful injuries, but this time he couldn’t get up fast enough. The men were approaching, and he was still trying to balance himself. They would take the key (or whatever that thing his carrying is)!

When he had first touched it, it echoed a metallic melody, but it didn’t feel cold like most metals do. As soon as he took it in his hands, it adapted to the warmth of his gloves, almost as if it was alive. Still it felt light, like a feather but as soon as he put it in his bag it sunk heavily at the bottom.

For a moment the melody grew stronger, Matt was barely up, and a men were about to jump on the roof from above, throwing him down again. With a loud sound, synced with the artifact’s they instead hit the concrete floor. It took a moment for Matt to comprehend what had just happened as he let himself continue the effort of getting up.

“Diablo.” …Of course it was him. He said unmasking his face.

The men tried to fight back but Jake jumped to the roof, putting them down again and continued; “You’re stepping into my battlefield, playing hide and seek with my enemies, taking my loops and you expect me to treat you nicely?” He threatened, out of character because yes, for the most part he was treating him kinda nice.

“That’s it my son…” Khonshu encouraged him as he slowly walked towards Matt, “Do my will.” And in response Jake strengthened his glare.

“Stop following me!” Matt yelled, unaware of the conversation.

“Can’t do.” He said being only a few feet away from him.

Jake just looked at him softly for a moment, a stare full of regret and pain that unbeknownst to him, wasn’t delivered. The thought that even the sliest of efforts to communicate his true will, didn’t reach anyone would make him more than afraid, it would make him gone, his essence, his true self, all he believes he can hold on to.

Where does Jake Lockley end and Khonshu begin if only one’s thoughts are being acted upon? His brain forever changed by unknown, ancient forces, being turned into a literal fucking-freaking bird house demanding to be feed fucking over and over again with freaking blood!

Where is Jake Lockley? Does he even exist if mindlessly he follows orders to survive?

Not again, not like when he-

Does he even have anything of his own? Something that is just truly his, not Steven’s or Marc’s or even Khonshu’s but something only for him, a love, a passion, anything that’s pure Lockley and nobody else can alter.

A stare, a stare to say, “It’s me, I am me, I… I don’t want to do this”, being forever lost as Jake took a long breath and punched Matt on the ribs. He was surprised, for a moment he though that his new acutance wouldn’t actually get that far. He knew he was way out of character even if he couldn’t see him, even if he just met him.

Jake continued, he was now running like a machine, he put all of his thoughts away and focused on Khonshu’s fight. He tried to punch Diablo on the head, but he deflected it, he wouldn’t be allowed to give up so soon, so he tried again. This time not only Matt deflected it but as he ducked, he punched his kidney, the only part of the body that wasn’t hurting until now… Great.

In response Jake slapped his arm away and then his face. It wasn’t that good of a hit as a punch would have been, but this wasn’t his goal, was it? He then grabbed him by the head to keep him still as he kicked him right under his lungs with his knee until he collapsed again. Now it was his time to take the bag but Matt, managed to kick him of his feet and rushed to get on top of him, punching him in the face with an anxious rhythm.

“You won’t let him get away.” Khonshu ordered. He was standing on the roof above, but his voice still felt like a whisper, boring his ears. At times like this his words gave Jake a headache, like drilling into his skull and pushing his thoughts in him with all of his power. Jake groaned but the deeper the drill went the more it started to sound like a scream. A scream that gave him the strength to punch Diablo on the throat and throw him of him.

…For a moment that was. Until he saw a gun. During their fight one of Fisk’s men sneaked into the roof and was now aiming at Matt. Jake rushed to tackle him to the side, getting him out of his aim ending up on top of him. The bullet landed right next to Matt’s ear and scared them leading Jake to roll them away from the spot, hiding them behind a wall.

He stood up and offered his hand at Matt, who without a second thought took it. If he did have a second thought that would be “What are you doing Mathew, get away from him!”. And he would be correct because as soon as Jake helped him stand up the punched him in the face, throwing him on the wall. This led them to a boxing match that was only interrupted by Jake pulling Matt closer to him when he got near the man’s aim.

Jake turned his back at the shooter, hiding Diablo from his view and pushing him away with his punches as well as he could. He managed to throw him face down on the ground, still hiding both of them behind the cape that kept the bullets from piercing through their skin.

He had to deal with the man, but not before he would get his hands on the amulet. He unzipped the bag, Matt resisted, he kicked him, but he only managed to get him hurt, not stop him. He finally turned around and with both of his feet kicked him in the face, dropping him down and offering a clear shot for the man aiming. Matt could worry about that, but a rolling metallic sound got his full attention.

“No!” he yelled, as the melody of the artifact became more distant.

“Lockley, now!” Khonshu ordered.

It was his chance; run and catch the amulet while Matt was down, leaving him to the mercy of Fisk’s man. Khonshu wanted him dead anyways, at least in that way he wouldn’t have to carry the guilt, right? No. He couldn’t let a good man die, even if it was inevitable, he had done that many, many times in the past he couldn’t bare it anymore …That’s what he says to himself every time. “This time will be deferent.”, “I’ll convince him!”, “I’ll find a way, for once I’ll do what I want.” But he never reaches his goal. Having his own will is well… pointless.

He knew, as always that no matter what he wanted, he was Khonshu’s tool, the will was his, so is the guilt, if he can even have that emotion. The death that he had brought in his name had never made Jake happy, he tried to create lies to tell himself, to reason his actions and for a time he believed them. That time is over. Killing a man who’s saving Manhattan over and over again, whose goal is actually the same as Khonshu’s, this is madness. The madness of a god who’d gone greedy.

“Lockley!”

He made his choice, without even realizing it at first, he stood up, faster than Diablo and kicked him again on the ground.

He left him to catch the artifact, so did the man. It was a rase, he was getting closer but then without even realizing it, Matt grabbed him and pushed him backwards, leaving Fisk’s man to get it.

“What are you doing?!” Jake yelled at Matt but before he could answer the man started shooting again.

“Lockley!” Khonshu yelled again.

And again.

And again.

In his brain everything happened so slowly but at the same time his body moved so much faster than he could control. The man hid the artifact in his pocket, as his other hand holding the gun moved higher. Jake pulled his gun out once again, failing to keep it out of the fight aimed and hit the man on the head.

“We’re on the same team!” he yelled at Matt.

Matt sensing the lack of a heartbeat didn’t hold back to answer.

“I’m nothing like you!” and rushed to get to the corpse but Jake stood in his way to stop him.

“Doesn’t matter! Bad guys have lost, the amulet is safe!”

“You’re mad!” He said trying to get away, but this time Jake was using way more force than before, unusual of a normal human. He took a deep breath and carefully said to Matt,

“Listen close -I know you can. Help me give my boss what he wants.”

Then suddenly he added something more in the sentence with a whisper as silent as a breath.

“To your right!” and punched him on the right side of the head, looking a bit disappointed and surprised like he was expecting something of Matt.

Why would he announce his moves before acting on them, did he learn to be a superhuman from a children’s show?

“Kick!”

“What are you- Ouch!” he was kicked and lost his balance.

“Ssssssh! Silence sinner! You endangered the travelers of the night, for that you should pay!”

Yes, definitely a children’s show.

“Listen. To. Me.” He almost spelled him out before whispering again “Down!”

Matt obeyed this time, with a small delay and almost ducked his punch. That put a smile on Jake’s face.

For the next couple of minutes they danced together to the choreography of Jake’s whispers, putting on a pleasing show for Khonshu.

“Right leg! throat!”

“Stomach!”

“Down! … Down! … Down!”

Of course he didn’t always tell him where he was going to hit. What?! He needed to show Khonshu that he actually did mean to hurt Diablo. He on the other hand would try to complain, not getting whether or not the man in front of him wanted his wellbeing.

He then spoke in his normal voice “Stop just avoiding punches and fight like a man!”

At that point Matt realized that he had stopped trying to hurt the fucked-up-confusing-murderer-vigilante guy who won’t give him a break.

“Fine!” Jake continued “I guess the amulet is mine now!”

And just as he said that Matt fought back throwing him to the ground near the amulet. You could say he was doing the bare minimum of fighting off Matt, he took most of the punches acting out the pain more that feeling it and only defended himself when he was getting closer to the artifact, until he zoned out looking at the sky.

“My Avatar… Is that really what you want? Humiliating yourself, not using my gifts to your advantage? Are you really that ungrateful to me, after everything I’ve done for you?”

“I-” Jake tried to defend himself but failed as Murdock kept punching him.

“Could you give me a break!” he finally yelled at Matt who was unsure if he should stop or not, but at least he slowed down.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Khonshu continued “Playing war with third class vagilities?” He posed and slowly walked towards him, examining the situation. “You are my son, I know you’re having fun”, he leaned down and looked at him in the eyes, covering the sky with the arch that was his body, only letting the moonlight to flow around him, “I know you enjoy your play but at some point, you have to finish it. It has to end Jake Lockley.”

Jake immediately gathered his strength and pushed Matt off him.

“This ends now.” He declared with the calmness of a wild dog wearing a muzzle as he caught Matt’s hand midair and used it to throw him down, without any warning this time, leaving him helpless in his mercy.

Matt’s world spined around, he remembered the sensation of rolling down a hill as a child, his vision turning everything into a blurry circle, only now everything felt like rolling. “What are you-” he almost asked but he was met by a hit in the guts, enhanced by the power of the suit.

“Finaly.” Khonshu encouraged Jake as he straightened his spine with a rocky sound.

His son wanted nothing but to please him, that’s what he counted on; on his devotion. Marc was easy to control, he didn’t care about himself, nor Khonshu, he mostly acted like a blank vessel, it was easier for him. Besides, it’s harder to make a man who believes in himself to turn to God, than a man who doesn’t see his own value. Because deep inside Marc needed guidance, needed something, someone from above to turn his pain holy, only in that he failed, he failed to who he offered his suffering.

Jake on the other hand always believed in themselves, he was the one who had to, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have faith in something beyond him. That was probably the only thing he ever had in common with the body’s father. All these times he quietly sat in his desk listening to his stories about God, love, and suffering pretending to be his son, they paid off. A one-sided relationship, Jake hidden behind Marc’s mask and a man he had to call father.

He knew what he had to do to survive, he cared about himself, so much so he took the pain from the other’s hands so the system could function as normal as they could. Jake needed a father who could save them, Jake needed someone who saw him, heard him, protected him, someone to held on to. So he behaved in Khonshu’s words, did everything he had to do to be safe, but in reality, he is held tight in the hands of a vulture, nails piercing through his skin, imprisoning him, not knowing if he will be brought to the nest safely, or be dropped as one final sacrifice.

“You make me sick!” he finally yelled, kicking Diablo’s kidney rhythmically. “Why. Won’t. You. Listen. To. Me. Once!” he continued not sure to whom he was referring and stopped. He grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, then dragged him near the edge of the roof. He pulled him up and made him sit up straight, like hanging a punching bag “Stay. Up! Por el amor de Dios, stay up…” he added as he tried to catch his breath.

“You…” Matt tried to interrupt him, but he was cut short by almost blacking out. Jake sensed that and gently pulled him up again, giving him a slap to wake him up then grabbed his chicks and yelled his face “Is this what you wanted?!” he let go of him and he caught himself just a second before falling face first on the floor “Me beating the shit out of you until you drop unconscious?”. He still hesitated to say the word dead, that was his plan, that was their plan, isn’t it? But he still wouldn’t say it, wouldn’t let himself believe that he is a murderer, not like Marc thinks.

“Stop it! I know what I am doing!” he answered to Khonshu who didn’t even speak yet, but he knew what he was thinking, he wanted death, just as every other night. And death is what he always delivers.

He locked eyes with Matt’s mask and sighed “I can’t keep doing this…”

“Don’t give up Lockley…” Khonshu was by his side.

“I know what I have to do.” He said as he slowly let his eyelids close, like his was about to pray “…No sé si tengo fuerzas para hacerlo (I don’t know if I have the strength to do it)…” he added under his breath.

That caught Matt’s attention, it was like the signals he was sending him, he held into that, into the whispers and waited for more instructions.

“Hazme un favor… por favor, déjame- Ugh (Do me a favor… Please let me- ugh)” he went to say something more but he stumbled into his own words and then exhaled from his nose, like a wild animal, sick of a fight. He picked him up again, bringing him a bit closer to the center.

“Fight me.”

Matt could barely stand up, but he still made his palms into fists and gathered himself. Jake didn’t hold up, he punched him over and over again, just enough so he wouldn’t get down yet.

This wasn’t the rage of a mad man, or the savage brutality deep buried in the human emotion. No- this was still an act, at least part of it was. Matt didn’t always know how he knew, but he knew, he had a sense of seeing someone’s true nature, seeing what’s real and what not and this- this was a play, a play for someone Matt couldn’t really place.

“I think that is enough Lockley.”

Jake didn’t stop.

“Lockley.”

Nothing

“Jake!”

He looked frustrated Matt thought it was him, making him actually mad this time.

“You need to obey me!”

And just as he said these words Jake’s suit disappeared and the wind blew his jacket to the side, making his cold gun visible as he took it and aimed at Matt.

“That’s enough Lockley. Time to put an end to this.”

“Time to put an end to this.” Jake repeated but then added, under his breath “Drop me off!” he then threw the gun and lashed out to Matt.

Matt wasn’t sure if he had heard him right, even though he never heard anyone wrong. His reflexes though stopped Jake from throwing him on the floor long enough from him to ask, whispering “What do you mean?”.

“Let me go, throw me off!” he let himself being pushed.

“What?” Matt answered his voice dizzy

“Off the roof” he pushed him back.

“No, you-” he stopped him

“I have a plan.”

“I won’t- won’t kill you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Wh-”

“I have a plan do you trust me?” he begun to push him again

Matt zooned out of the conversation and ignored Jake, focusing more on the fight but he wouldn’t let him go that easy

“Do you trust me?!”

Matt didn’t answer but he didn’t turn him down either, he gave him a stare that was enough for Jake.

They had reached the finale of the show. Jake had pushed them near the edge again, his strength was starting to run out and Matt had found the power to fight again.

“Lockley, you are making me bord.” The bird complained, staring the fight from above, in his bigger form.

“It won’t last long.”

“I better hope it does not.”

“Who are you talking to?” Matt finally asked but Jake didn’t bother to answer, why did it matter?

Lockley had brought them to the perfect spot. “Now!”

But to his surprise Matt was still unsure. He pushed him a bit and punched him but not enough to be thrown off. Shit, if he doesn’t play his part perfectly Khonshu will realize it is all fake! He must obey, why doesn’t he, it’s just one favor, just one favor.

“Diablo now!” he slapped him.

In response Matt leaned on him pushing him towards the edge.

“I… I can’t.”

“I trust you.”

Matt continued pushing, that was it, just one more- he stopped

“What are you doing!” Jake yelled “You’ll kill us all!” he whispered.

“I can’t do it I’m-”

Jake had have enough of it he pulled Matt from the collar of his shirt and punched him in the face “Do it!”.

“No!”

Then he punched his jaw “Do it!”

“No!” he punched back.

“Now” Jake helped Matt’s hand to punch him harder.

“Now” he repeated being punched in the throat.

“No!” Matt yelled with a punch and again and again and again as his strength worn out.

Jake grabbed the last punch and kicked Matt behind his knee, making him kneel in an uncomfortable way, his spine leaning backwards, feeling the breeze of the edge.

“Is either you, or me.” Jake finally explained.

Matt had figured it out from the beginning, but he didn’t want to believe it, no. In every single one of his fights he always finds a way to keep everyone alive, it never has to end that way and he knows, he knows that if it ever comes to it, he will be the one sacrificed, no matter how awful of a human being is the opponent.

“End it then.” Matt begged.

Jake’s expression softened. He gave him the green light, he chose it, not him, with just one move, a simple one that is, he can go on with his life, the burden of Diablo’s life is not in his hands anymore he could finally breath in and relax the night will be over with just one kill.

“Ok.” Where the only words escaping his mouth. He took a breath and looked away getting ready for one final kick.

As he was looking away a twitching light caught his eye. It was the moon reflecting on Khonshu’s skull, nodding, agreeing with his choice, still guiding him.

Who is Jake Lockley?

Who is Jake Lockley if only Khonshu’s will is being acted upon?

Does he even exist?

Is he his own person?

He missed his kick.

He looked down at Diablo who was holding his breath.

“This is not how it ends.” He said and took a step closer to the edge.

Jake’s heartbeat was steady, he was telling the truth Matt realized, his on the other hand was beating like crazy desperately trying to catch his breath.

“Keep it safe.” Jake balanced at the edge.

“What are you doing?” Jake turned his back outwards.

“Goodbye. For now, Diablo” he took a deep breath lifted his hands wide in the air and fell backwards.

“Wait!” were the only words that could escape Matt’s lungs only to be interrupted by a loud crash and car sirens echoing from the alleyway bellow.

That night Matt Murdock let a man die.

Nights like this have been rare for a while, dealing with such a lost is always hard, especially now that he had pushed in the back of his head all the memories of the pain it costed.

It wasn’t time to morn, the enemy heard the fall, they were coming to get him. He took the artifact and put it back in his bag and run away as fast as his injured self could. As he was getting to safety two men stood in the now empty alley that Jake had fallen, next to a crashed car.

“Tell Bushman he escaped.”

Tags: @moonymelly @nicobico23 @rattymess @pikapuff-316

Comment if you want to be tagged on the next chapters

[zeroducks-2]

(Espero que se me sea entendible)

Que opinión tienes de que Eo haya dicho:

"because it's the only time you'll spend with me."

En vez de:

"because it's the only time I'll spend with you

Te entiendo sì :) Sorry my Spanish isn't good enough for a complete answer but I do understand it well enough.

So the reason why Eo says "It's the only time YOU will spend with me", and not "the only time I will spend with you", is because he does spend a lot of time with Barry even if Barry is normally not aware of it.

Eo follows him around, spies on him, literally stalks him day and night and keeps him under control, he does spend a lot of time with him. It doesn't work the other way around though! Barry doesn't know Eo is there (and even when he suspects it, they don't really interact), so he doesn't in fact spend time with Eobard in return. It's a one way thing in which Eobard watches and looks and observes but never acts, like when he came back from the however many years he was tortured in prison and started just following Barry around, watching him without ever interacting (Eo was being ridiculously shy about it, and the funny thing is that at that point, Barry would have likely been happy to see him and greeted him like an old friend).

Conversely, when Eobard is actively making his life impossible, Barry is forced to react to the things he's put through, therefore he will "spend time with him".

See, Eo has this distorted view of relationships in which spending time with a loved one means that the ONLY WAY he has to be noticed and get the other person to give him attention, is through breaking things. As a child he was ignored by his parents who locked him in a playpen and never even turned towards him, and the only way he had to get them to pay attention to him was to break expensive toys. That would get his father to finally notice his existence and beat him up, which hey, I'm sure it won't traumatize a small child at all!

If you can go past the terrible art, this is what his life has been like for a good chunk of his childhood (then his parents genetically engineered another child and forced him to be his little brother's primary caretaker, while continuing to treat him like garbage).

And sure, now Eobard isn't a child anymore, but the 25th century is a bleak place and beside for the Flash comics he found refuge and comfort in, he didn't have any other guardian figure (or any friend really) who taught him how love even looks like. So, when Barry loses his entire shit in Running Scared, absorbs the Negative Speedforce and beats the everliving hell out of him, from Eobard's perspective he's still giving him attention! It worked, he broke "enough toys" to get Barry to spend time with him! ... In the sense that he was a menace for long enough and threatened Iris enough times, and it's interesting to me how in Running Scared he is so disoriented and so overpowered that he could do 200% more damage, but truly his only goal is getting Barry to spend time with him therefore he keeps said damage to a minimum.

He could have killed Ace, but he just tossed him around a bit. He could have killed Iris, and he barely even touched a hair on her head. He brought her to the 25th century after realizing that she didn't remember barely anything about him (unacceptable! One of the most important people in his life forgot shit about him!!), but beside scaring her, the whole RS arc ends with Iris sporting not even a bruise. The entirety of Running Scared could be summarized with "local time traveler gets brought back to life by his crush, is disoriented as fuck and in his need for attention makes a mess and gets himself killed again (by his other crush)". And in my strictly personal opinion, the reason why his antics look especially childish in Running Scared also comes from the fact that he's indeed extremely disoriented, both by the whole flashpoint paradox situation (he can't forget anything while everyone else has altered memories!), and by the fact that he literally just died and came back to life. Imagine the headache.

[tackyink]

I had to be around 9, at most 10, when a friend came home to show me something cool, and he installed a GB emulator on my PC and gave me a copy of the Pokémon Red USA rom. I could barely understand a word, but I played up to Seafoam Islands before I got tired because my computer was so old the emulator ran at like, 40% speed. I got a GB and a Spanish version of the game much later.

I was 11 when I read an ad on a kid's magazine for an imports shop in our city that sold USA copies of Pokémon Gold and Silver. Like, the bastards specified in the ad that they had those two Pokémon games. They knew their audience. I got my hands on Gold and struggled my way through all the English to complete it and I also had to be the one to tell my friends with pirated copies with garbage text that you needed to wake up the Snorlax with the radio because their Lavender radio tower sign was unreadable. I understood more things now. I played in bed with a pocket dictionary on the nightstand, and later on my desk, because we moved to a smaller place and I didn't have a nightstand anymore.

I was 13 when I came across a Japanese rom of Sapphire and played a little bit just to see the beginning, but I didn't want to spoil the surprise, so I waited for translations. I was so excited. And I seem to recall that someone had attempted to translate a few simple things into German? I remember being able to read the sign outside my character's house because it was similar to English, and my reading skills were getting better.

At 18, I played a USA Diamond rom on release and got Pearl when the games came out here. It had taken 8 or 9 years, but I didn't need the dictionary anymore.

When Black and White released, I was 21 and played for a few minutes a Japanese rom of White, thought it looked gorgeous, and realized that I had lost a good chunk of my tolerance to playing games I couldn't read. It was a long wait for the European versions, but very much worth it.

From Gen 6 on, Pokémon releases were global, so I had no reason to sail the seven seas anymore in search of Pokémon, and it would have been way too inconvenient starting with the 3DS anyway.

All this to say that a few months ago I got second-hand, dirt-cheap Japanese copies of White and White 2 (I got the Black versions back in the day) and I'm making my way through the first game with Jisho.org open and a notebook and a pen to write down the kanji I can't read with hopes that it won't take until I'm 43 to get some semblance of reading fluency in this language.

[vrosecollarbones]

Jose

Senior year, my second semester I met Jose. We met in Spanish 2 which he only took because he already spoke Spanish, so it was an easy A. I turned to him for help a lot because I had hardly passed Spanish 1 and only took the second one because you needed two language credits to pass. I could tell he liked me right away even though he would make fun of me with his friends.

“Of course she’s mean. Gingers don’t have souls.”

“Brianna, you need to eat. Are you anorexic?”

“Are those freckles or acne?”

Regardless of the immature remarks about my appearance, I was flattered he even noticed me. The majority of the kids at my school were white so Jose was the odd one out I suppose, but he played the Hispanic kid card pretty well and used it to his advantage. He was mildly popular and attractive if you didn’t consider how obviously insecure he was. He made self-deprecating turned race-deprecating jokes consistently. He made a point to leave his pants bagged and wear wife-beaters even in below-freezing weather. He even drove a lowrider. I don’t know how he did it but at 17 years old he somehow owned a 64’ Impala. The paint job could’ve used some work, the green was so worn you couldn’t tell where the paint ended and the rust began.

If he hadn’t had that car, I don’t know if we ever would’ve ended up dating. Spanish 2 was the last class period and he overheard me complaining about the piling snow outside because I hadn’t planned for a ride.

“I got you.” He said, dangling his keys way too close to my face, “I got some extra cash. We can get food or something.”

“Yeah, that sounds nice,” I responded. He was the last person I expected to come to my aid. When the class ended I followed him out to his car. There was nothing romantic, he didn’t offer me his jacket to shield me from the ice-cold winds and he didn’t open the door. His car smelled like cigarette smoke and skunk. I don’t remember what we ate, I think we shared a small fry or something, but he didn’t take me straight home after that. We parked in the restaurant parking lot and talked for a long time. It started as small talk and I let him carry the conversation, but gradually Jose started to open up to me. I assume he just really needed somebody to talk to. Someone whose opinion he didn’t actually care about. Who was I going to tell?

“ Remember in Spanish I said my mom was an immigrant and I'm a first-generation American?” He turned straight towards me. I nodded with a mouthful of french fries.

“Yeah, none of that is true. I think maybe my grammy was an immigrant but my mom doesn’t talk a lot about her. They don’t get along and stuff like that.” I chuckled when he referred to his grandmother as ‘grammy’. It kind of ruins the whole delinquent facade.

“What’s so funny about that?” He retorts. His voice has a joking edge, and I can tell he isn’t offended.

“You call your grandmother; ‘grammy’. I just didn’t expect that from you.”

“I just poured my whole heart out to you and you’re making fun of how I refer to my mom’s mom.” He jokes back at me, “I didn’t expect you to be so judgemental.” He points at me to emphasize the ‘you’ part of that statement. We talked so late that night the snow piled around his car and we got stuck in the parking lot. He had to get the manager of the restaurant to come out and help him shovel it out. I had to stand with him in embarrassment as we got lectured to not take a lowrider out in snowy weather and that this company’s parking lot was not the place for late-night conversation. Jose brought me home. To my disappointment, there was no goodnight kiss or hand-holding on the ride home. Before I opened the door to get out of the car he handed me the brown paper bag full of our garbage.

“Could you throw that out for me? Unless you wanna keep it, I don’t know.” He asked me nervously. I took the bag out of his hand and walked into my house. Only after I walked inside did I realize that neither of us had exchanged goodbyes, but he had given me his number. I didn’t know when he had done it but he wrote his number on the food bag in Sharpie. So I texted him.

Me: goodnight thx for the fries

After a few minutes had passed panic flooded me. That was too soon to text him. He would think that I was clingy. That was only the first time we had hung out, the number could’ve been intended for emergencies only, or for if I needed another ride home. But after I had gotten all cozied up in bed I had heard the notification.

Jose: ur welcome

Jose: we should hang out again sometime

And we totally did. The next day after school, even though the snow had subsided and all the sidewalks were shoveled, he offered me another ride home. This time with a few of his friends whose names I didn’t recognize. We walked out to his car side by side this time. There were already a few kids sitting outside his car. One was a girl that I already recognized from Algebra. I assumed that was Alyssa, one of the names he had listed off earlier. The other two guys’ names must’ve been Max and Hunter. I never figured out which one was which. Jose opened the driver’s side door and unlocked the passenger side. Alyssa opened the passenger side door and went to sit.

“Ey, let Brianna sit in the front.” Jose yelled over the roof of the car, “She don’t want to sit next to these fools. She don’t know them.” Alyssa rolled her eyes, avoiding eye contact with me, and folded the seat down so she could crawl into the back. I lifted the seat back up after everyone had settled and sat in the passenger seat.

“Everyone, this is Brianna.” Jose announced to his crew, “Brianna, this is everyone. That’s Alyssa, Hunter, and Max.” I was flattered Jose had made such an effort so far. He spoke up for me to sit next to him and was clowning around less than usual.

“Aren’t you dating that Joey kid?” Alyssa practically interrupted from the back seat.

“I haven’t dated him in forever.” I answered unenthusiastically, “We broke up sophomore year.”

“Joey. Jose. Are you just collecting all the J’s or what?” One of the boys in the back practically yelled out.

“Well-” I had no idea how to respond. I wasn’t sure what he was implying, “Joey was a blip. I have absolutely no interest in anything but getting into a good college and getting a good job. But yes, I do have a lot of friends with names that start with J.” The silence in the car was deafening. Jose turned the volume to the rap song playing off his phone up so loud the whole car was shaking. I couldn’t tell if that had saved me the anxiety or made it so much worse. After cruising around for what felt like hours, Jose parked in front of an almost empty playground.

One of the boys in the back lit a blunt, took a hit, and passed it off to Alyssa. He must’ve rolled a blunt while we were driving around and I was in my head so much I hadn’t even noticed it. Jose turned the volume down so we could hear each other speak. They were blabbering about teachers they hated and how much they hated their parents or something. I was watching the blunt get passed from person to person until it got to me. I nodded for it to get passed to Jose instead. I wondered how many times I would be able to do that or if they would just quit passing it to me. I watched Jose take one long drag, inhale, hold it, and exhale. Then he brought it to his lips to do it again. He blew the smoke that time into my face and tried to pass it to me again.

“No, I’m good for now.” I politely declined. Even though Jose’s car smelled of smoke the last time I had been in there, I hadn’t seen him smoke in it or around school. I just hadn’t expected this to be what the night looked like.

“Don’t be a bitch.” Jose snapped at me. I was taken aback. Not once the night before had he sworn at me. At school, he would tease me but never name-calling like this. All the kids in the back started laughing and I heard Alyssa make a snide comment under her breath. I grabbed the blunt from Jose and took a small hit off it. At first, I just held the smoke in my mouth but wondered if they would somehow tell that I didn’t let it into my lungs, so I did. I started coughing so hard I thought I was gonna throw up. Alyssa did me a small act of kindness and passed me her bottle of soda. She took the blunt from me as a trade-off.

Even though I only took one hit, I did think I started to feel it. Not right away, but after the blunt was gone, all of the overthinking I was doing once I had gotten to the car had uplifted and I had started to have a decent time. The kids' talking had turned into white noise as I was having trouble actually following their conversation. I got taken out of my daze by Jose’s hand grabbing my thigh and shaking it gently.

“Brianna,” Jose questioned me, “So is it true for redheads too?”

“Is what?” I wondered. Maybe I should’ve paid better attention.

“That’s okay,” Alyssa erupted from the seat behind me, laughing, “If she didn’t hear it, it’s for the better.”

“Max just told us that Alyssa isn’t just blonde on top.” Jose laughed, “The carpet matches the drapes apparently. What about redheads? Or is your hair not even real?”

I was completely gobsmacked at this point. This kid was so nice to me the day before. He had just earlier spoke up for me and got me in the passenger seat of his car.

“Yeah, I guess.” I answered reluctantly, “It’s all my hair, why wouldn’t it look the same?”

“Damn, I don’t know.” Jose glared at me, “It was just a question, calm down.”

“I’m being calm.” I looked at him like he was crazy. Mostly because he was making me feel like I was crazy. I had decided at that point that I was going to ignore all those idiots the rest of the night and stare at my phone until Jose dropped me off back home. Then I would never see Jose again- outside of Spanish class.

After they all got bored of talking Jose started dropping them off one by one. Max or Hunter first, then he passed right by my street to drop the other boy off at his house. I didn’t say anything when he didn’t drop us off in order of closeness, I kept my head down and figured maybe he had forgotten where I lived already. That he was going to ask after he dropped Alyssa off. Instead, after Alyssa said her goodbyes and got out of the car, he turned to me.

“Look, I’m sorry I was kind of being a jerk for a second there.”

“Which second? There were a lot of jerkish instances.” I scoffed.

“ All of it, okay?” He said as he put his hand on top of mine, “I wasn’t trying to be a jerk. I’m just trying to apologize.”

“Oh yeah,” I moved my hand away. Not far, just an inch, “For which part? For calling me a bitch 'cause I didn’t want to smoke with you or asking me inappropriate questions in front of your friends?”

“I didn’t want them to make fun of you, okay? I was trying to protect you. I really want them to like you.” Despite the hint, Jose puts his hand on mine again, “And I’m sorry I asked you that. It was a joke. I didn’t know I couldn’t joke with you. I’ll never do it again.”

I did not expect an apology. Now all the anger I had is put aside and I’m excited. Now I no longer have to try to avoid awkwardness in Spanish class. Now I might have an actual prospect for a boyfriend. Still, my point still stands, and I can’t let him off so easily.

“It’s not that you can’t joke. It’s that that wasn’t your friends’ business.”

Now he’s moved my hand onto my thigh and held onto them both. He’s looking hard into my eyes now,

“But it’s mine right.” He thought he was being flirty.

“Not yet it’s not.” I took his hand off my thigh and grasped it. “Can you just bring me home?”

“Yes ma’am.” His eyes locked back towards the road, “But eventually right?”

He was trying to be funny but I’m going to remember that from now on. I didn’t even dignify him with a response. I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Alyssa was watching from the top-floor window. I wondered if she had been there watching the whole time.

“Next time we’ll hang out just me and you,” Jose promised me, “Does that sound okay?”

“Yeah.” I barely choked out. He held my hand the whole drive home.

[becauseiamnotanelephant]

A sleepy day in Rome

We woke up earlier than normal to pack our things in Matera, drive to Bari, and get on a plane to Rome, where we will spend our last few days before coming back to the states.

This has been an abnormal trip to Italy thus far, only traveling by plane and car, so I opted for the chance to take the train from the airport to our apartment in Testaccio so that Hannah could get a taste of European travel. Then we had to schelp all our stuff on foot the final 15 minutes of the trip - the not so great part of that plan - but we were able to check in right away, and then were off for a long overdue lunch.

Rome certainly feels like a different place than the cities in Puglia - way more tourists, more immigrants, way more garbage, an incredible amount of graffiti, but also many more trees and greenery other than olive trees. And with the Tiber River, more water, too.

We started our walking tour from our apartment in Testaccio over to Trastevere for lunch. Almost any pizza here is great, but we found a very highly rated place and at some delicious pizza. From there, we walked around Trastevere, had gelato, and then crossed the Tiber. Despite the bumpy sidewalks, Hannah passed out at this point, missed all the scenic spots - Piazza Navona, the Pantheon, the Trevi Fountain, the Adrian Temple, and then the long uphill walk to Porta Princiana, an entrance to Villa Borghese, the large park above Rome. As soon as we arrived at the playground (our actual destination), she woke up. Amazing timing.

We let her play for a while and even try the kids "piccolo slalom" go-kart/bumper cars (a disaster) and then continued on our long walk. I didn't plan the walk out of the park too well so we missed the terrace in the park with the great view of Rome, and instead ended up walking along the road and arriving in Piazza del Popolo. From there we walked through the fancy district of Rome to the Spanish Steps. We looked all over for a tabaccheria to buy bus tickets, but they were all closed, so we took a gamble and rode the bus home without paying. We had already walked 8 miles so I mapped out our route so we could take the bus home, and found a way so we didn't have to transfer but also got dropped off less than half a block from our apartment.

We all took much needed showers, managed to avoid a disaster after Hannah locked herself in the bathroom (good thing she has practiced using keys before!), and then went out for dinner at a nice place in our neighborhood where we met up with my uncle's wife's cousin Layla and her husband Giulio, who live in Rome. They weren't free for dinner until 9:30 PM so Hannah was a basketcase, but the dinner was delicious, and it was nice to have some local company, and also learn a few things about Italy. For example, the fact that the banks did not exchange money for us was totally crazy...and also, don't come to Italy next year. It's a jubilee year for the Pope, so every religious person will be here and it's going to be crazy in Rome. Good to know, and also explains why they are cleaning all the monuments.

[journey-of-the-ip]

Thursday June 6th

I guess I’m starting a new day even though it’s still the middle of the night in home time.

Bleghh kinda finished the flight zombie mode. The flight was only 8-9 hours which is pretty short imo, and I only “slept” probably like an hour or two? Probably less honestly. It’s crazy with map projections we took a short cut over the top of the globe cause that’s how globes work. Weird.

Upon landing I finally figured out the roaming data with Mint but my coverage is garbage and I couldn’t get signal in most of the airport.

Also the airport WiFi wasn’t working so I was like damn, also I walked past and then subsequently couldn’t get back to the SIM card shop in the airport double damn. I also walked past and couldn’t get back to the money exchange in the airport. Triple damn.

I was anxious that my credit card would be declined and I wouldn’t have any euros so I wandered around a bit by t didn’t really get anywhere, brain was feeling very shot so I just went up to the taxi stand which luckily was really easy to find and got a taxi to my hotel.

Card was accepted, all is good. Is this frontal lobe anxiety finally kicking in? (Albeit too late for me to have done anything about it) I guess just need to practice being more proactively anxious.

At the hotel, I can’t check in until 2 (it’s 11 at this point) so I have 3 hours to kill till I can brush my teeth, shower, and feel human. Also it’s HOT which makes sense because it’s June but Seattle has lulled me into a false sense of security. This trip is gonna be sweaty.

Anyways my hotel is near the airport which means it’s near nothing interesting. I’m between a Nissan dealership and an IKEA.

I have a long vent about globalization which I hopefully get back to because I’m writing this as I’m waiting to check into my room still.

Luckily, seems like there’s a shopping mall about a 15 min walk from the hotel so I go there and grab a bite to eat and hide in the air conditioning for a while. i didn’t realize how ravenous I was bc I wasn’t really craving any of my snacks, classic. After I made my way back to the hotel where I am now.

Schleepy. Hopefully will write more later.

Okay I slept from 3-8pm and then from 10pm-2am. It’s now 7:14. I guess I’m still including this in the day before because I don’t have any pictures yet and these thoughts are from yesterday. Anyways here is my vent I was too sleepy to transcribe yesterday.

Being here is kind of uncanny. Except for a few things, you could easily mistake this place for the US, or Mexico City. Most of the stores I see are international brands. At the mall I saw Starbucks, Sephora, guess, H&M, etc etc. when I was looking for food, I saw Italian, sushi, frozen yogurt. It felt like being in any other urban mall. (One store I thought was funny was straight up the Aliexpress store?? It was like a cross between a dollar store and one of those stupid tech shops that had like massagers in the early 2000s.

Of course some things are different, I found a more traditional tapas place and got some food you wouldn’t normally see in the US. Everyone smokes here, drinking is much more casual, and they’re fond of this weird sloped escalator that’s like half way between an escalator and those airport fast walk things. Maybe it’s wheel chair accessible? But that thing is still pretty steep idk

I’m also not in a touristy spot but like, I feel like the mall I went to was a very authentic local person mall. The people just looked like normal Spanish people not tourists. Even so, Everyone here speaks English, they had an English menu ready for me, it’s all so… samey? Easy? Idk

I think this is part of why I’m not caring as much about traveling these days. Why spend all that money to just go, be somewhere with a slightly different skin? Anything I could want I could personally also get on Amazon, or at my own malls, idk.

I’m going Morocco will be more different. This is definitely bias but it feels like different == poorer. Where cities if given the option will homogenize into a globalized urban center.

When I reflect back, I feel like Saigon had more character and differences even though it also felt like a global city. Anyways.

Gonna chill and rest here until late morning and then hopefully stay out all day today. We’ll see.

[luci-cunt]

Zinc white

jsad;lfkjsd <33333

zinc white; how are you really feeling today? no one-word answers please!

I’m doing pretty good! My mom baked some bread this morning so the house smells great and I’m gonna go swimming which ajkdf;ladf its finally warm enougha dfjkas;dlfkjj T-T alskdjfa;lsdjk I’m so happy

blue lake; what would you like to do/accomplish before you settle down?

Publish a book. XD like, and I mean ACTUALLY publish a book XDD

violet rose; what does your dream house look like?

Very, very tiny, probably just like 2 or 3 rooms, with the biggest part of the house being the kitchen/ living room. My bedroom would probably be a loft, and I’d be out in the middle of nowhere and have a fuck ton of cats.

violet; is there any place in particular you’d like to settle down?

I really love New York, but I also miss Denali, and I think Chicago would be cool, but also Montana and-- ajsd;lfkja;sdlk idk yet

blue; what’s the most recent dream you remember?

Hmmm, I had a dream a couple night’s ago that I was in a horror movie with two other people that were using horror movie logic and it was a NIGHTMARE. jasd;lfj LITERALLY. We were getting chased by a wolf and then later another dude and I was like “YALL we CANNOT outrun a WOLF we need to hide and call someone” and they didn’t listen to me and got me killed. It was a whole thing. 0/10 would not recommend

bright blue; what does your dream family look like? any kids or pets? how many of each?

So. many. cats. and a couple of dogs. Idk how many but I just akdj;fla I like animals. I’m never having kids ever but I hope in the future I have a lot of friends who come and let me make food for them XD.

blue cobalt; do you like your name? would you give yourself a different name if you could?

I like my name just fine, but if I was a boy my parents were going to name me Aurelius which I think is 100% cooler. Also for a while I went by “Pat” which was cool. 

green; name three countries you want to visit; do you have any actual plans in place to visit any of them?

Italy, Turkey, and Antarctica. I don’t have any real plans to visit tho, don’t have time anywhere in the near future, but I can dream! XD

emerald green; do you speak any languages besides english? are there any additional languages you want to learn?

I speak very, very shitty Spanish and can sign ASL just a wee bit XD. I really want to learn Latin and German and French and Japanese adn ajf;lasdj just everything, i want to know all the languages XD

[ask me watercolor questions so I can stare at the way the colors sound for a few hours and then answer XD]

[beetoo]

into the A.M. chapter 1 :: wednesday runs out of batteries

LINKS :: WATTPAD :: AO3

Assuming her werewolf roommate was out partying every Friday night, Wednesday Addams never questioned why Enid Sinclair comes back at 3 in the morning. But when her winghand helps her find her roomie's secret radio show, things become a little more, fascinating between the two.

Inspired by @a-queercodedthis 's post!

Being a criminal justice major suited Wednesday Addams. If she were just a little more deviant, the lack of ‘justice’ in her major title would probably be a better way to describe her. All at once, Wednesday could be everything she wanted in the world: Correct. Nothing gloats her ego more than proving people wrong and getting to kill people on the side if needed.

Over the years, Thing would testify Wednesday has softened. Not to the outside world. Rather, only when a familiar blonde werewolf was to be in the room—Wednesday became nothing short of a copy of her own father. What irritates Thing is no matter how good of a winghand he is, the two densely dunces don’t seem to be capable of connecting the dots.

But Thing is confident his recent schemes might work this time.

“What is this?” Wednesday holds up a pamphlet for the Nevermore Radio hours. Thing jumps to grab it out of her hand, fidgeting the paper around until it uncrumples flat onto Wednesday’s desk. The hand jumps with joy when he finds what he’s searching for and aggressively taps at his newfound wealth of information.

“‘Enid Sinclair hosting ‘Into the AM’ from 12-3AM on 107.5?’ What are you insinuating, that I listen to her ghastly k-pop sounds? I’m trying to study, not kill myself.”

Thing signs in frustration. “You say that as you’re tuning the radio. Get over yourself, Wednesday.”

The raven-haired girl says nothing to her handy compadre and busies herself with the radio. While she continues to turn the dial to ‘107.5’, she looks over at her analog clock on her desk which shows the time to be ‘12:45’.

“Tell me, tell me, tell tell tell tell tell tell me…” Wednesday groans. “I don’t think I’ll last until three, Thing.”

“꿈이 아니라고 말해 말해줘요… Weeee love our Wonder Girls. K-pop icons since the start of time. Hey, if you’re listening and have some song requests, come on up and send them! Give us a call at (805) 666-6666! If not, next on our playlist is—”

Thing throws his own phone to Wednesday, jumping on her desk to urge her to give the radio a dial. Wednesday fumbles with the phone in her hand, hustling her fingers onto the touchscreen.

“Oh! We have a caller! Have any song requests my friend?” Enid says over the radio, clueless to Wednesday’s identity.

“Anything but this k-pop garbage you’ve been playing. If my ears could cry, they would’ve been by now.”

“Oh please, ‘Tell Me’ is the most iconic song of its age! Plus it’s a romantic pop song that reminds the listeners of the wonderful feelings of a fresh relationship and being told you’re the one and only one. Isn’t that cute!?”

Wednesday groans into the phone, crossing her arms while keeping it close to her ear. “Iconic or not, definitely an acquired taste.”

“Well then, mystery caller, what do you propose would outshine this iconic love song?” Enid hums through the radio. Anyone could tell she was amused, surprisingly unmoved by the mystery caller’s remarks, but there was not a soul listening to their conversation. Not a lot even knows about Nevermore Radio.

“Besame Mucho by Andrea Bocelli. Listen to it, and translate the lyrics on Google if you’re not familiar with the language of Spanish, Miss Sinclair.” Wednesday suggests, reminiscing on her childhood listening to her father serenades her mother to this song. “You will not regret it.”

“Alright, next on the playlist, Besame Mucho by Andrea Bocelli as requested by the mystery caller!” Enid declares, and the intro to the song plays quietly in the background as Wednesday walked to her desk, hanging up her line. She looks to Thing who gives her a thumbs up.

Slumping at her desk, she slips down into a more relaxed position as she listens her favorite childhood song sing a ballade in the air of her dorm room. Wednesday goes to close her eyes, remembering the times this song came to existence in her life. 

Besame, besame mucho. Como si fuera ésta noche La última vez.

Gomez sung as he sat young Wednesday on his lap. Looking at his wife, he smiles wickedly, crooked, and manipulated with pure undeniable love. His eyes soften at the sight of beauty in front of him, feeling drunk in contentment. 

“Kiss me passionately, cara mia. As if this were our last night spent together.” He whispers, looking at Morticia’s supple pale lips. 

“Querido, always kiss me as if death was tomorrow.” Morticia utters back, closing the gap between them to share a passionate kiss. This goes on behind Wednesday who was preoccupied with her new baby brother that was in her mother’s hands. A new Addams had joined them that day named Pugsley. The girl didn’t mind another person to experiment on and ‘play’ with.

Kiss me now, kiss me with passion. Kiss me as if this were to be our very last night.

Wednesday sits up from her seat, cringing at the memory. For as long as I can remember, those two were always inside each other’s throats. Never-ending was her parents’ love for each other. A curse for her, a blessing for them. Over time she desensitized, but sadly not amnesic. 

Quiero tenerte muy cerca, Mirame en tus ojos, Verte junto a mi.

Gomez sang as he assisted Morticia’s mother with dinner one night. It was their anniversary and he wanted to surprise his bride and family with a feast to remember. Wednesday always remembered her father’s random acts of love. Unpredictable was a great word to describe the Addams family, no more than their head of the house. 

At the table, the man hummed the rest of the song, as she prepared it by throwing (literally) everything into place (and it landed into place). The insurmountable luck Gomez Addams has is beyond anyone’s belief, even the man himself is befuddled by it. But every morning he greets his ancestors with pride and thanksgiving. He believes without his luck, he may never have found the love of his life.

As everything was prepped, Wednesday sat at the dining table. She concerned herself with where to place Nero’s grave after today’s incident, preoccupied with grief and sorrow, not realizing her mother welcomed herself into the room with a bouquet full of flowerless roses.

“Mon cher! Let us eat!” Gomez beams, looking up at his gorgeous wife in pride and joy.

“Mon amour, for you.” Morticia hands him the bouquet. “Full of thorns, the way you enjoy it.” She quips.

Gomez takes the flowers, letting it prickle into his hand. Unmoved, Gomez continues to hold the flowerless stems while looking wide-eyed as his wife as if her beauty caught him in a trance. Morticia smiles at her lover and takes the flowers where they find homage in a nearby vase, taking Gomez’s hand, and licking away the blood before kissing the inside of his palm.

“Don’t torture yourself, Gomez. That’s my job.” Morticia teases, as she tugs him into a kiss on the lips. The two looked into each other’s eyes, seeing their love for one another reflecting on it. 

I want to hold you so closely, Look into your eyes to find You mirroring me.

The song trails on the first verse a couple more times before it stops and Wednesday finally hears Enid’s voice once again.

“Okay, I admit that was a beautiful song. I would literally die if someone sang that to me. That second last part, pardon my accent, ‘quero tenerte muy cerca, mirame en tus ojos verte junto a mi’ Just hits my heart strings. I wish I had someone who loved me the way this person who wrote this song did.”

Wednesday picks up Thing’s phone again to dial the radio’s number.

“Oh! Do we have another requester? Or is it mystery caller from earlier again? Hello! You’re live!”

“Hmm. I feel like mystery caller for a nickname is quite tacky. Give it some more thought. Do you admit defeat, Sinclair?”

“Haha, why don’t I call you grumpy for your grumpy personality? You must be miserable to be calling me on a Friday night. And no! I don’t! I will find you a better song! More lovely and romantic!” Enid declares, causing Wednesday to smile at the radio in front of her (Thing watching this from the edge of Wednesday’s bed, giggling if he could).

“I’d like to see you try and outdo Andrea Bocelli.”

“Well, when you put it that way now it seems impossible.”

“Hmm. Well, I have all the studying time in the world you could possibly take over, give it a try.”

“If you’re so confident in your music taste, why don’t you run this station then?” Wednesday could hear Enid’s pout through the radio.

“Mmm, I suppose I’d like to stay a mystery caller.”

“Fine then. In an attempt to outdo our mystery caller, Fog as a Bullet by The Marias is next up on our playlist. So sit back, relax, and enjoy my amazing music taste.”

Wednesday presses her lips in an attempt to block a smile from surfacing. She can’t be serious. I hope it’s not another k-pop song. She leans closer to her desk, lowering the volume of her radio, and preparing her ears. Knowing Enid’s taste in music, her expectations for this song were already 6 feet under her feet. The girl stood up from her seat, ready to grab her noise-canceling headphones hanging on the edge of her bed until she heard the intro ease in–and the first verse sung over her doubts.

Estaré, contando el tiempo en mí. Contando hasta morir. Qué falta me haces aquí. I’ll be counting time within me. Counting until I die. How much I need you here.

“Thing, increase the volume.” Thing follows the woman’s request but also places a finger on his side while facing Wednesday to make her feel a little guilty. “Oh shut up, I know,” Wednesday mutters, as she leans her weight on the side of her desk closer to her bed and folded her arms before closing her eyes to listen closely to the music.

Estaré volando entre niebla y el mar. Volando entre dioses y paz. Qué rabia que ya tu no estás.

I’ll be flying between fog and sea. Flying between gods and peace. What a rage that you are no longer here.

This is a lot more depressing than what Enid usually listens to. How does she know of this kind of music? Wednesday’s tight-lipped smile slowly turns into a frown realizing something. Who could she possibly be hanging out with to know this kind of song? It’s definitely not anyone from the Nightshades. She scoffs. Nothing but unsavory pop music and rap. Does she even have other friends besides them?

Llorando, Me la paso llorando. Me la paso añorando Me la paso en ti.

Crying, I spend my time crying. I spend my time yearning. I spend my time on you.

“Gosh, I love that song. I found it on TikTok one time and It’s been one of my all-time favorite songs to disassociate to.” Wednesday walks over to the desk to shut down her computer and organize her papers for the night, placing them in their respective spots before tucking her chair in for the night before grabbing the radio and Thing’s phone and heading to her bed.

“That was weird, ignore I said that. Anyways! Even though I feel like the writer of this song meant this as a song mourning the loss of someone, to me, it feels romantic. Like, you’re counting the days you die to reunite with someone because you desperately miss their presence. I don’t know, maybe because it reminds me of my crush—”

Wednesday drops her radio. 

In a state of panic, she drops to the floor and scrambles for the batteries that are rolled into the abyss of lost things in her room. Finding only one and shoving it into its rightful compartment, the radio hums nothingness that somehow is the loudest thing in Wednesday’s room. 

“Fuck.”

a/n: the first chapter is out! expect chapter 2 next week which will be from Enid's perspective >:D exciting!

[phantom-ellie]

The Art of (Smashing) Crockery Chapter 24: Duat

Please read content/trigger warnings at this link before proceeding with this chapter. Chapters 24-27 deal with some heavy concepts that aren't suitable for everyone.

Mary: Give any thought to moving back in?

Stede: yeah, i just need some time, i need to think and process things.

Mary: You have children who need to spend time with you, Stede. Mary: Don’t forget them.

Stede: i know Stede: they wouldn’t like to see me like this

Mary: Someone should. Don’t just hide away.

Stede: thank you

Post from the blog Hear Something Weird:

Sorriderai, nulla ha più senso ora, no, e girerò le città ma non ti scorderò!

Comments: YetAnotherGiantBassist: WandeRection, get Jim to tell me what this means, I don’t understand Spanish. TheRealWande: That’s Frenchie. And That’s Italian. YetAnotherGiantBassist: Is it French, or Italian?

---

Jack lets out a monstrous burp, and Ed wakes with a jolt.

“What day is it?” He asks, rubbing his temples.

“Who cares?” Jack tosses him another beer. “It’s a holiday somewhere. I’ve got 'em all on a calendar.” Jack points to a wrinkled calendar on the wall. Ed approaches it and squints.

“International Day for the Elimination of Violence against Women,” he reads.

“Fuuuuuck Eddie, of course you pick the most boring one. What about National Parfait Day. You’d eat a parfait, wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Unless it’s National Cake Day now. Do some whippies with me and we might make it all the way to National Craft Jerky Day.”

“I am not doing whippets with you, what am I, thirteen?” Ed cracks open the beer.

“I got lines.”

“How can you afford that? Wait, I don’t want to know.”

Jack smirks at Ed. “Why are you really here, big guy? Pretty sure you can afford better shit than I got. Hell, you should be buyin’.”

Ed shrugs. “Just wanted some company, I guess.”

“Wait, your buddy Izzy Hands isn’t good enough company for you?” He bursts out laughing. “Just kidding, he’s the worst.”

“Yeah, he fuckin’ is.”

---

Post from the blog Hear Something Weird:

fuck i’ve fucked up my life

Comments: WandeRection: There there man, you haven’t, you’ve got all sorts of mates trying to help you. MauritianSupremacy: Check your texts!

---

Stede: ed Stede: im sorry Stede: i made a mistake, i should have stayed and talked Stede: i think you were right Stede: it just fucking hurts so much, im so tired all the time Stede: you were a good friend ed, i hope you find someone who can be who you deserve them to be

---

Israel Hands sighs as he looks around at the mess. Supervision is supposed to be his talent, the one thing he does right in this god-forsaken job. But once again it’s all gone sideways under his watch.

He snaps at a kid to bring in the garbage cans, no not the little ones, the big gray fu-cans, please, and goes searching for his cleanup crew.

Nowhere to be found, of course. It’s Thanksgiving, and the Los Robles kids, current and former, get together to prepare and give meals to people at various shelters throughout the weekend. Builds character. Feeds people. Gives Izzy a fucking headache.

He rounds a corner and spots the duo of idiots who are supposed to be cleaning up this mess. Having an argument, as usual.

“Give him some privacy, amigo, his heart is broken!”

“Jim, he stopped using punctuation and capitals! This goes way beyond broken-hearted drunk posting.” Wande crosses his arms.

“If the idiota doesn’t want to talk, he doesn’t have to talk!”

“Stede’s alone, Jim. Nobody can get in contact with him.” Izzy stops at the sound of the name. Fucking Stede Bonnet. Couldn’t be anyone else, could it?

“Would you two get to work? This place is a fucking mess.”

Wande looks up guiltily. “Sorry, Iz. It’s just that… we think our friend might be… a bit suicidal?” Jim crosses their arms and rolls their eyes.

“Oh yeah? Who’s your friend?” Please not him, please don’t make me deal with this.

Izzy knows that he is not a pleasant person. He is abrasive and mean and angry and it’s gotten him into trouble many times. But what keeps Izzy in his line of work is what he calls his complex. He’s really good at dealing with mental health crises. He can’t hear about one or see one without wanting to take charge and set things in order again, especially for someone who is incapable of setting themselves in order.

Usually.

He might have fucked it up with Ed last night, of course. Maybe. But he’s definitely not feeling guilty about it, at all. Ed had that conversation coming. Absolutely. Most definitely. Zero guilt on Izzy’s part.

Wande sighs and turns to him. “It’s our friend Stede, yeah? He’s a… well, he’s gone through a lot of shit recently, like, losing everything and everyone he’s loved, yeah?”

Jim sighs. “Show him the video, tonto.”

Wande nods. “And this happened yesterday, yeah? All over the ‘net, now. And nobody can find him, he’s just disappeared. Keeps posting sad shit on his blog, won’t talk to no one.”

Don’t watch it, don’t get sucked in to this rich asshole’s bullshit, don’t watch it-

He watches it. The bottom drops out his stomach. He grabs his phone and looks up.

“I told you two to clean this shit up. I’ll deal with this.”

---

Izzy: Edward, pick up your phone Izzy: I know you’re pissed at me, be pissed at me later, I’m serious Izzy: Your mate Stede is in serious crisis, I need to know where he is Izzy: Don’t fucking tell me you’re with Jack or some bullshit, pick up your fucking phone.

Post from the blog Hear Something Weird:

im only making it worse

Comments: TheRealWande: You got someone who can hang out with you right now? What about DreadNordGreybeard?

---

Ed and Jack have their backs on the floor, staring at the ceiling.

“Some people call ‘em planks, or ladders, or french fries…”

Ed scrunches his face. “No they fuckin’ don’t, mate, that’s stupid.”

“They aren’t stupid, you old buzzkill, they’re fun. You’ve got chicken feed, love boat, disco biscuit…”

“Are you seriously telling me you go up to dealers and ask for some disco biscuit?”

“Not since I got banned from all the clubs within walking distance.” Jack sighs happily.

Ed looks over at Jack. “And this… is the life? You enjoy it?”

“Why the fuck wouldn’t I enjoy it? I do whatever I want. Nobody tells me what to do. I don’t have to answer to anybody.”

Ed returns his gaze to the ceiling, watching it move back and forth in a dizzy wave.

“Don’t you ever get lonely, Jack?”

“Lonely? I can get laid anytime, Eddie.” Jack pauses for a minute. “Why? You lonely?”

“I guess I am.”

“You wanna do something about it?”

Ed considers it for a moment. Then he shakes his head. “No. Pass the ‘bicycle parts,’ mate.”

“Suit yourself.” Jack hands over the Xanax and Ed takes a pill and sighs.

They lay there in silence.

“Okay, now I’m pretty sure it’s National Craft Jerky Day.”

---

Post from the blog Hear Something Weird:

relieve me leave me here im dying

Comments: PracticallyGayJesus: Where are you, man? This isn’t funny.

---

Stede: please reply even if it’s just to tell me to fuck off Stede: ok, i understand Stede: i wont bother you anymore, ed Stede: dont feel bad, nothing was your fault

Chapter 25

[layniapetrovnaaa]

“No boys”

 Request: @soytrash

Hey beautiful 🤍 how about a cute little moment between reader and Logan with Laura regarding a crush 🥺And Logan is just overprotective, but prior to Laura coming home from school and talking about a crush, Logan is trying to get some from reader 🥵 please and thank you hun let me know if that’s okay or not 🥰 (maybe with the baby from your family series too) sorry if it’s too much I love your writing 🥺🤍 

Warnings: Smut, swearing (if you squint).

A/n: Do you guys picture yourself when reading fanfiction? Cause I do and don’t haha. Typically when I read/write for Logan I picture myself as Scarlett Johansson in Match Point and The Island lol. I’d love to hear about you guys, so just let me know!

Reader is written as under 30 y/o, if you are older, just change the number :)

I hope this is good enough (I’m not really that confident in this one). Let me know if you have any constructive criticism. 

[The Howlett Family series] 

It was a particularly warm day in the Canadian Rockies, warm enough to open a few windows and have the cozy log house smelling of the fresh outdoor air. the window above the sink that you were currently standing at let a breeze into the house that tickled you just enough to have your body bear a small chill. 

As you rinsed one of the bowls you had used this morning to prepare breakfast, your hips swayed side to side in a fluid manor that matched the rhythm of the song that lightly boomed out of the speaker which sat by the fruit bowl on the counter. The reason behind the low volume was that Logan was currently trying to put your youngest daughter down for her daily afternoon nap. If the wails and grumbling coming from the baby monitor was any indication, it wasn't going very well.

You dried off your hands and picked up the monitor, holding down on the button that allowed your voice to come through on the other end.

“You need some help?”

“We’re fine. I just cant find her goddamn pacifier.”

“Did you check on the shelf by her changing table?” you spoke again.

Suddenly the crying stops and you smile knowing he found it.

He lets out a quiet “Thanks.”

You set the monitor back down and go back the the half a dozen dishes left in the sink.

“Kid’s quite the screamer hm?” you announce as Logan walks out from the hallway a few minutes later.

“Yeah she is, I think she got it from her mother.” he jokes walking around the island to be closer to you.

You let out a breathy gasp like-laugh.

“Oh really?” you say in an exaggerated tone, humor still consuming it.

“Mhm, and speaking  of screaming...” he places his hands on your waist and squeezes a bit.

“We can’t baby, Laura's gunna be home in like ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes is enough time. I can’t help it, you just look so sexy--”

Before he can finish you interrupt.

“Logan, you know damn well ten minutes isn't enough time.”

“I just need something [Y/N].” he says as his hands find your breasts and you let out a small moan, abandoning the dish towel and griping the counter.

He kisses your neck, sucking and nipping at the soft flesh, which brings forth light breathy moans from your mouth.

You turn your head to kiss him and you can feel yourself throb a bit when your lips meet. his hands dip into your top and pull your breast out of their confines, teasing your nipples with his fingers.

He continues to grope and kiss you as his dominant hand makes its way into your pants.

You moan loudly into his mouth as the pad of his middle finger circles your clit a few times.

His lips separate from yours so he can speak.

“Hmm, You like that?” he says in his breathy and gruff voice.

You can’t seem to make out any words, so instead you offer an almost whiny sounding “Mhm.” as his fingers inch lower.

You gasp, throwing your head back onto his shoulder, your right hand coming up to hold the back of his neck, as his middle and ring fingers enter your tight lubricated hole.His fingers curling in the classic “come hither” position, making you squeeze around his digits.

Even after all of the time you had spent with Logan, your body still didn't know how to handle the pleasure, that being evident in the way that your back arched and you sporadically bucked your hips back into his crotch with every jolt of pleasure that you felt.

Your moans were absolutely erotic as he seemed to push further into you, finding that spot that did in fact make you scream.

And the explicit squelching noises were making you even more desperate as he fucks you with his fingers.

As you let out another slew of loud moans, you feel his hand come up to cover your mouth.

“As much as I love hearing those pretty noises you make, baby, you gotta be quiet.”

Your eyes rolled back and fluttered shut at his his words and the vibrations from your moans bouncing against his cupped hand.

His thumb starts to circle your clit in the same rhythm that his fingers were moving in.

God, you were so done for.

He releases his hand from over your mouth before he asks:

“You gunna cum?”

“Mhmm” you let out in high pitched whine.

“Ouh! Don’t stop.” you pleaded as that marvelous feeling started to take over.

“That’s right baby, jus like that.” he speaks, egging you on until your mouth falls open and your eyes squeeze shut, your orgasmic euphoria taking over.

Eventually your body comes back down to earth.

“Look at that, you got three minutes to spare.” he coos in a triumphant tone.

Your breath is heavy and you whimper slightly when he pulls his fingers out of you.

You glance over to the built in clock in the stove before readjusting yourself and catching your breath.

Turning around, you plant your hands on the space where his shoulders and neck connect, and kiss him. Your tongues danced together sensually until you pulled away.

“I wish I could return the favor...” you hum and he kisses you again.

“You will later.” he says as the screeching of the school bus tires alerts you of Laura’s homecoming.

You look up at him and bite your lip, giving him a sensual smile as you nod.

You separate from him as you hear the front door open, going over to greet Laura.

“Hey honey, how was school?”

You could hear Logan in the kitchen, chuckling at your total change in demeanor. 

You turn slightly to roll your eyes at him, but the small amused smirk on your face gives you away.

You turn back to your daughter as she answers you while getting her homework and lunchbox out of her backpack.

“It was alright. We got to watch a movie in my english class, so that was  nice.”

You follow her to the kitchen where she sits at one of the bar stools at the dark wood island, slapping her purple folder and pencil onto the table.

You noticed something off with the young mutant, like she wasn’t telling you something.

When she looked up to see you and Logan analyzing her, she knew she would have to put on a better performance if she wanted to keep her secret. Fortunately for you, she wasn’t feeling up for a challenge today. And it’s not that she wanted to hide what her friends had told her was called a “crush”, but she knew how her parents would probably react.

“Laura, is there something you need to tell us?” Logan spoke.

“Sweetheart, you know you can tell us anything, right?” you squeeze her shoulder in a loving manor.  

She nods, taking in a breath before turning to you and muttering: No puedes decírselo a papá... (You can’t tell daddy...)

Hearing this concerned you. Laura and Logan had a pretty open relationship, despite their constant bickering.

Your eyes quickly flick over to Logan, who was watching you and Laura, his arms crossed while he leans against the kitchen counter.

“Que es Laura?”

Logan was accustom to yours and Laura’s more private conversations you had in spanish. He wasn't really a fan, only because when they would occur, he felt left out. But, he figured this must be important and waited patiently before asking you what she had just said about him.

“Hay un chico en mi clase que está enamorado de mí.” (There is this boy in my class who is in love with me). Her voice is quiet, but her tone sounds exasperated.

Logan's brows furrowed when he heard “un chico”. He didn't know much spanish, but he did know that un chico meant a boy, and he did not like the sound of that.

You snort, your hand quickly flying up to cover your mouth before you speak.

“Aww Laura!”

A shy grin spreads across her face.

“What did she say?” Logan speaks up

You bite your lip, trying to hold in your small bit of laughter. You look over at Laura and can tell that, although she is nervous for what her fathers reaction may be, it would be best to tell him about her dilemma.

“Laura has a not so secret admirer.”

“He wrote me a note.” she says, grabbing a crinkled white paper from her pocket.

You could tell by her humorous tone that she found the situation comical, and didn't seem to reciprocate the feelings.

Logan on the other hand had immediately gone into full protective father mode, snatching the note from her hand, and reading over it to make sure nothing obscene had been written/drawn on it.

After he is finished looking at it he crumples it up and puts it in the garbage.

“No boys until you are 30.”

“Logan don’t be ridiculous.” you say, walking over to fish the note out of the can.

“I am not being ridiculous.” he scoffs, incredulously.

“In fact, I think I’m being a bit lenient. 30 years old is a perfectly reasonable age to start being romantic with someone.” he says, and now it was your turn to scoff as you hand the paper to Laura.

She makes a disgusted face and holds the very corner with her pointer finger and thumb. You couldn't tell if it was because it had been in the trash, or because of it’s contents.

You turn back to face Logan and cross your arms.

“You do realize that we’ve had a baby together and I’m not yet 30, right?”

He retracts slightly, and grumbles:

“That’s different.”

“Uh-huh” you reply sarcastically.

“The feelings are not mutual by the way.” Laura finally speaks up. Deciding to clear the air before an argument started brewing.

“I don’t have a crush on him.”

“That’s my girl.” Logan says, and you chuckle.

“That conversation is not finished by the way.” you say while you walk over to the pantry to get Laura a snack, Logan grimaces, thinking of the conversation that would come later.

“Daddy?”

“Hmm?”

“How did you and Mama end up together?”

“Uhh, well...” he starts, glancing up at you, not sure if it was the right time to share.

Yours and Logan’s story was a bit controversial. The reason being that you were only 19 when you first “got together”, and Logan was your ex-teacher. And it wasn't exactly the most orthodox either. Instead of the typical flowers and a dinner date, it was more like neither of you could sleep one night, and one thing led to another, which led to you waking up in his arms in the morning. You had always had romantic feelings towards The Wolverine. Though they were never truly discussed, you both knew they were there, and you knew they were unbreakable. So, after that night, you two became exclusive.

“We met at Charles’ school, you know that.” you speak, setting the packet of crackers in front of the pre-teen, and walking over to grab an apple to cut up for her.

Laura sighs, knowing that she probably wouldn't get the answer she was looking for if you weren't willing to share it.

She rips open the wrapper, glaring at Logan when he steals a cracker from her.

“Well, how did you know you had a crush on each other?”

You chuckle lightly as the knife cuts into the ripe and scarlet colored fruit.

“We didn’t exactly have a crush on each other, Laura.” Logan starts, but a dry cough finishes the sentence.

You look up at him, asking if he was alright with your eyes.

He gives you a blunt nod as he lets out a deep breath.

You notice your daughters furrowed brow as she munches on the biscuit, and elaborate on Logan’s previous statement.

“Your father and I’s relationship is a bit complicated and unconventional, Laura. What he was saying was that we have and had a connection on a level so much more than a crush.”

She nods and pops another cracker in her mouth.

“But,” the crisp sound of the apple interrupts you slightly.

“usually when you have a crush on someone, you get the feelings of butterflies in your stomach whenever you see or think about that person. You smile when they smile, and laugh when they laugh. You want to be around them all the time, and you try to get their attention. You sometimes get nervous, and jealous of others that are close to them.”

You place the apple slices on a plate and slide it over to her, cleaning up the slight mess you had made and you glance over at her.

Laura sat starring at the plate as she thought of all of her symptoms you had just listed.

“Why were you asking?” Logan asks, his voice stern and suspicious.

She looks up, once again nervous.

You smile, getting an inkling as to where this is going.

“Well, there’s this-”

“No Laura. No boys, remember?” Logan interrupts, his custodial protectiveness resurfacing.

“It’s not a boy.” she mutters.

Logan blinks a few times, looking over to your grinning face.

“It’s a girl?” he asks, making sure that he wasn’t getting mixed up at all.

Laura looks up from the oxidizing apples a second time and nods.

“Well,” he leans back in his seat, breathing out.

“Tell me ‘bout her.”

She grins and you smile back, lovingly.

And then she doesn’t stop talking about the girl with the dark umber skin and curly caramel highlights until you have to remind her to eat her apple slices.

[achliegh]

Olive and Otto

Olive and Otto

Masterlist :)

@domesticatedbeetlenamedjorge

This is an AU still set in the SW universe but a little to the right and maybe down the block. I want Leo to have a little secret!

This is the 22nd chapter of this little series I have and it's a little spicy. Enjoy!

FAMILY SKATE! Part 2 and Final Chapter!

I just wanted to say thank you all for reading this, it makes me so happy because my writing feel like garbage to me but y'all treat it like its precocious and I have cried happy tears over things y'all have said. I just can't thank y'all enough.

TW/CW: Smut, Drama, Arguing, Questioning Sexuality, Food, Panic attack

Characters belong to @lumosinlove

Family Skate was booming, everyone was a little taken back at the two hurricanes with adorable old timey names. Those kids tore up the ice, for only being three those kids could probably out skate most the team. Remus’ little brother, Julian, Loved Otto. Like he didn’t leave his side the entire time they skated. Olive would skate around with Kuny, she was so fascinated when he would speak Russian to her. She was absolutely taken by the giant Russian and she wanted to understand this new language so bad that Kuny taught her some bad words and Sergei told him off for it.

Sometimes the kids would be talking to someone and just randomly switch to either French or Spanish without even realizing it and then get upset when Leo or INK would tell them to “Speak English, Sweetheart”. Otto and Marc were skating together when Otto had a dizzy spell and fell over, everyone froze for a second remembering what Leo said about the little boy earlier.

“You okay?” Marc held his hand out and was looking at Otto worried because his new friend just fell over for no reason. Yeah he was younger than him but Marc had never seen someone just drop like that. Otto nodded and used Marc’s hand to stand up.

“I want to sit” They skated over to where INK was sitting on the bench talking with Eloise and Celeste, Otto was very good at knowing when he hit his limits for the day and today was the first time since his surgery that he had been on the ice for more than a few laps with his dad. He crawled up between Eloise and Celeste, he kicked his skates a little as he watched everyone skate. “Ma-maw, why can’t I live here? I could have friends.” He looked up at his grandma who was stunned by what he said and so was Celeste. “No one likes me at school at home.” He didn’t understand why it was a big deal that he didn’t have many friends. He did enjoy all the kids here though.

The Weasley kids were fun and had treated him like he wasn’t a downer. The Dumais' treated him like a little brother and some of the other kids whose names he didn’t remember played tag with him and didn’t go easy. He didn’t want to go home.

“Oh honey, you’ll be up here all summer. Then you can play with all the other kids then. Just enjoy your time here, you have three more days with your daddy before he has to work and your mama has to go to work back home.” Eloise was just trying to talk him into enjoying his time now but she wasn’t expecting him to talk about friends, he never did. He was like Leo in that sense, kept to himself but was very observant.

“If you want I can give your maman my phone number and you can call Marc anytime after school.” Celeste petted his hair and he leaned into her touch. He nodded, having a big ole smile on his face and his cheeks were a little red, he thought Celeste was so pretty.

Olive was racing Charlie and beat him for the third time, he looked exhausted but she was still revving to go. She was incredibly fast but she was also very small, she skated around the outside and caught up with Leo. She somehow got between Leo and Finn, she grabbed each of their hands and let them pull her.

“Daddy, did you see how fast I was! I beat Charlie!” She got listed up by them and laughed as they put her down, not noticing the absolutely lovesick expression Logan was watching them with. “I want to play hockey someday! I want to be just like you! Oh, daddy do you have a boyfriend yet? Mama wants to get married to June!” She looks up at him when he laughs at Finn's face who is firetruck red. She really doesn’t want her daddy to be lonely anymore, it makes her sad. She was really angry when he left but when he facetimes mama the first time crying, she wasn’t angry anymore, she was scared. She can’t take care of him so who will.

“Olive, what would you say if I had two boyfriends?”

“Whoa! That would be so cool! You would never be sad!” She smiles flashing those incredible dimples and hears Bill calling for her. “I gotta go race, by Daddy!” She skates off leaving a laughing Leo and a red Finn to call Logan over.

After the Pick-up game Olive was watching the entire time while Ott had fallen asleep with his head on Celeste's lap. Everyone got changed and showered, after they piled into cars and drove to Dumo's. INK can’t cook for shit so she was sitting on the couch chatting with the team while Leo and his mother cooked in the kitchen with Celeste. Wyatt was talking to Pascal and Arthur in the dad way, with a few signatures on his shoulder.

She was watching everyone when a pregnant redhead sat neck to her, she groaned a little and looks at INK.

“How far along are you”

“About 6 months” She smiles at INK and rubs her stomach. “I’m Lily by the way, Pots is my lover.” She nods towards said lover who is being cheered on as he chugs some kombucha. INK snorts at him and laughs. “How did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Have twins, I can’t even imagine the strain it took on you.”

“I had to drop out of school and was bed ridden for the last three months of my pregnancy. It was really hard but Leo never left my side, the stupid idiot sweetheart.” She smiles and rolls her eyes. “I never wanted kids when I was younger because I was afraid I would end up like my parents, then Leo and I did some stuff and it was probably a less than 1% chance that I would get pregnant and it happened.” Olive ran past them with her Daddy's Jersey on her that was much to big, she almost trips on it and laughs as Adele chases her playfully. “I can saw that those three definitely saved my life.”

“Three?”

“Yeah, Olive, Otto, and Leo. I couldn’t have done anything without him. He is the best dad, and he supports those two with everything he has. We also don’t want to put them into the public eye until they can choose for themselves if they want to be followed like that.” She takes a sip of her wine and looks at Lily. “I don’t really have any advice to help you because the last few months I mostly slept and cried. If you need me to get anything for you I will though.”

“I just want to get to know you, you’re someone who has raised two adorable children and you’re still smoking hot!” That surprises a laugh out of her and Lily join in the laughing after a minute.

Leo walks out of the kitchen. “Let's eat y’all!” Finn and Logan kiss his cheek as they walk into the kitchen to eat, Pots and Nado also smack big wet kisses on his cheeks as they walk past. He shoves them and follows everyone else.

“No, Otto you know you know you can’t have that.” He takes a peanut butter bar away from him and shakes his head. “I don’t feel like going to the emergency room tonight.” Otto is allergic to peanuts and tree nuts, he seems to forget how serious it is to eat stuff that might kill him. Usually no one has any form of nuts in the house, but this isn’t their house.

The child he just took a treat away from starts to cry and he sighs, walking over to where the treats are he asks celeste what's in each one and grabs a double chocolate brownie for Otto and hands it to him. “Don’t eat it until your plate is empty, okay?” Otto instantly stops crying and nods running off to join his sister. Shaking his head he feels arms wrap around his shoulders.

“You’re so good with them” Leo smiles and looks over to his dad. He looks so proud of him, he kisses his son's head and pats his shoulder. “I’m gonna go eat with Pascal Dumais” Leo snorts as his dad giddily goes to sit next to his teammate.

As he looks around he has never felt more at home, INK and June were talking with Lily and Natalie. Olive and Otto are eating and talking at the kids tables, Finn and Logan are openly flirting and stealing cute glances at him. He felt so calm and like he could breathe.

Suddenly Pots jumps up.

“They are the picture in your stall!”

[what-the--curtains]

Not a Piece of Art

Part 1/4 - A Grudge Like No Other

(Javier Peña x f!reader)

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Summary: You’re tasked with an impossible mission and an even more impossible partner to complete it with.

Authors note: I have never not once seen narcos all I know if based on other fics I’ve read so pls be kind but let me know if anything’s wildly out of character! Also I’m aware forensics wasn’t a solid discipline (especially DNA fingerprinting) but we’re gonna pretend it is. Lemme know if you’d like to be tagged (or untagged) 😊

Tw: Mentions of fake parental death, swearing, mentions of sex

Word count: 4.1k

Tagged list: @agingerindenial @diogodxlot

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The morning sun radiates down on your shoulders as you lock the door to your apartment complex behind you. Despite the early hour it was already far too hot, but at least the humidity wouldn’t kick in until the afternoon. You’d been working in Colombia for a few months now, but the heat wasn’t something you’d ever get used to. You weren’t complaining, most days you preferred it to the frigid temperatures that painted your childhood. The frost bitten noses, wool socks and thick snow falls coating tree branches seemed all but a distant memory now. You’d settled on Columbia after your long time best friend Connie convinced you to take the universities offer. She had recently made the move down south and was eager to have you there with her.

She’d told you about the job and honestly, you wouldn’t be surprised if she had marched down to the university herself and dropped off your resume. She’d flown up to Brown and helped you pack up your life and then unpack it after your arrival to the terraced apartment Connie had picked out for you both to live in. It was a decent size and the balcony was south facing which gave you all day access to the sun. When you weren't working you spent your time out there soaking up the sun and watering the small garden you had been tending to since your arrival. Your days were primarily spent at the university working out the finer details of the forensics lab you were hired to set up. Your PhD in forensic anthropology has left you with various laboratory based skills, including DNA analysis, making you a coveted asset to the campus. Whilst in school you had also completed an art certificate which came in handy when facial reconstructions were needed.

After everything was in place you began running samples, processing unidentified remains by working on dental ID’s and facial reconstructions, as well as testing for drug residue. Despite being run by the University your job wasn’t as research based as you would have hoped with your work often falling under the DEA’s jurisdiction. You weren't involved in their day to day protocols. You mainly just ran the tests, or identified bodies recovered from the crime scene only conversing with them when it was absolutely necessary. Police work wasn’t in your wheelhouse, and it wasn’t a profession you supported or believed in.

Many faces passed through your workspace all demanding your utmost attention claiming their projects to be the most important. One frequent flyer through the lab was Steve Murphy, who Connie had met down in Miami a few years back. His relationship to your friend was the only reason you had bothered to make an effort with him. A friendship was established between the two of you faster than you had expected, due in part to his easy southern charm, but mainly because he and Connie evidently had feelings for eachother. You always found it easier to get along with men who weren't trying to get into your pants which was, unfortunately, a frequent occurrence in the male dominated discipline you worked in. There was only one flaw you could attribute to Steve, his work wife, the other half of the DEAs “dynamic duo”, agent Javier Peña. You’d never been formally introduced to the man, but his reputation preceded him. His was a face that also made frequent appearances in your lab but you'd never spoken more than three words to each other which was, probably for the best. You had what some might deem a confrontational personality and from what you understood Peña was, to put it nicely, an asshole.

He always came in sporting a more casual look and sunglasses which he kept on despite being indoors, a habit that drove you up the wall. He’d tap the file on the glass to get your attention always making you walk the five extra steps to get to him. You didn’t bother to look up when he passed the beige folders to you just grabbed the file from his hands and added it to the pile on your desk. He’d started attaching yellow sticky notes with “put a rush on” scrawled across them in impatient handwriting, as if his case was more important than the remains you were currently working on identifying. Not talking was a strategic move on your part, you’d heard he was quite the charmer when he needed something done, and you weren't going to let him get away with that. You ran this lab, not Javier Peña. Was your dismissal of him warranted? Maybe not, but your gut instinct was usually right and the rumour mill had painted Peña in a very specific manner. You weren't about to let yet another hot headed alpha male who took “too much male energy” to an entirely new level into your life.

Unfortunately, your knack for avoiding him became nearly impossible when you were called out to work on a crime scene. Despite your refusal to work in the field, the remains couldn’t be moved so you had to go to them. The site was just far enough away that a daily commute would have been tedious so you, along with the dynamic duo and your forensic team were booked into a nearby hotel. You weren't sure what you'd done in your past life to piss off the gods but somehow you’d ended up sandwiched between Steve and Peña. Steve wasn’t the issue, apart from the TV which you’d hear blare spanish dubbed reruns of Miami Vice between 4 and 8 PM, he was a quiet, considerate neighbour. Peña, on the other hand, was neither considerate or quiet particularly during the late hours of the night while you were trying to sleep. Sharing a wall with the agent proved to be an issue, so much so that by the third day just looking at him filled you with such intense rage that you'd given yourself lockjaw.

Every night without fail you laid awake as the exaggerated, bordering on ridiculous, moans coming from whoever he'd enticed into bed that night reverberated through your shared wall. You'd tried it all, earplugs, pillows so forcefully wrapped around your head you were essentially smothering yourself, but the sounds still permeated through the plaster and into your head. On the fourth night when you heard the talking start you knew what you had to do. You furiously wriggle free from your sheets and make your way out into the hallway. You walk one door over and inhale deeply before aggressively pounding your fist on the door.

“Hey” you say, through gritted teeth.

“Hey?” a slightly disheveled Steve murmurs eyes squirting into the hallway’s bright lights as his arms cross clumsily over his bare chest.

“Look I hate to ask but can I sleep on your couch, the walls are thin and...”

“And Peña has a thing for loud women '' he finishes for you, shoulders relaxing as he opens the door up for you “surprised you lasted this long, come in i'll grab you some pillows”

“Thanks for letting me sleep here, I think I may have killed him in the field tomorrow if I didn't get at least an hour of sleep. Also this isn’t some tactic to get you to bed so you can stop trying to cover your modesty” You say wiping your eyes, as Steve drops his arms to his side laughing.

“I know, believe me, besides i'm sure you're aware I’m only interested in one person.” So he did have a thing for Connie.

“You should go for it, I think she'd say yes” you offer, even in your sleep deprived state you were still a pretty solid wingwoman.

“You think?” His eyes light up, further cementing your belief that Steve, despite being friends with Peña, was a good guy.

“Thanks” you murmur as he hands you some pillows and a light sheet. It's not long before the AC’s quiet hum draws you into a deep sleep.

The alarm blaring out from Steve’s room pulls you from your dreaming state, groaning as you squeeze a pillow over your head. Why was it that you always felt worse after getting a good night's sleep? You briefly doze off again only waking as the smell of burnt toast convinces your brain that either a fire has started, or you were having a stroke.

“Tryna burn this place down?” you mumble, relaxing back into the couch cushions as you watch Steve scrape the burnt bits off into the garbage before buttering it and taking a bite.

“You think you got enough sleep to not kill my partner this morning?” he asks between mouthfuls.

“No, but I did get enough to realize if I killed him in the field there'd be witnesses” you remark pouring coffee into a cracked mug. “Thank you for letting me sleep here “

“Anytime, though Javi should be the one thanking me considering I basically saved his life. Lucky were leaving today or I’d have to put him into protective custody.”

“And I'll never have to hear him ever again” you say suddenly feeling a bit better. You were glad for Steve being so accommodating to your needs, especially considering he didn't really know you that well. “Well I should go get ready for the day ahead what it's supposed to be out?”

“A balmy 40” Steve offers, as he washes your cup up in the sink.

“Wow I should have packed my snow pants when I moved down here.” you dead pan, the delivery causing Steve to snort as you exit the room. As you exit, Javier opens his door kissing the woman he’d spent the night with one last time watching as she strides off down the hallway. You don’t see him, but he sees you. Specifically, he sees you leaving his partner's room, and in nothing more than an oversized t-shirt, he raised his eyebrows. Good for Steve from what he’d heard half the department had been trying to get your attention to no avail. Your head was always buried in paperwork and your ears were always donning headphones blocking out small talk, maybe he should take a page from your book. He didn’t say anything to Steve in the field, but he did watch you interact with one another. Paying specific attention to how you'd made Steve laugh while photographing the murder weapon. Javi watched as you meticulously gathered up a few finger bones that he'd overheard you saying would be used for DNA fingerprinting. He'd tried to talk to you a few times this trip, but the second he'd stepped in your direction he noticed your jaw clench and your body tense up, not wanting to upset you he decided it was best to back off. After getting what you need you packed up your things and headed back home, with no intentions of ever having to interact with Peña for more than 5 minutes ever again.

Several months later

Your lab was now contracted out full time by the DEA which meant you still got to do research but you didn’t have to teach any teenagers which was quite frankly a dream. Unfortunately, the contract meant you'd now be spending time in two male-dominated fields. The boys club offered little that would qualify as genuine friendship. Turns out the ones brave enough to approach you were only nice to you because they wanted to sleep with you. Something you’d found out after overhearing a less than true story about you from one of the guy’s you’d hooked up with. After that you’d stopped sleeping where you work and started looking elsewhere. Your few short lived romances were mainly found in dive bars only going home with people that had been thoroughly vetted (and vaguely threatened) by yourself, Connie and Steve. Who was now a relatively permanent fixture in your life after finally asking Connie out, and you really didn’t mind it. He was good to Connie and he never minded being excluded when you needed a girls' night without him. You also assumed the decrease in misogynistic talk amongst the agents was Steves doing, you made a mental note to thank him later, as you took another swig of the beer you’d been nursing for the past hour.

Steve was still inseparable from Peña and where he went Javi was sure to follow. Your inability to not become enraged by him meant you often found yourself leaving the room as soon as he showed up, subsequently cutting your Connie time in half. Devastating both you and her.

“You know he’s not really as insufferable as he acts” Connie states, Javi was due to show up any minute which meant it was just about time for you to leave.

“ You're not gonna sell me on this” you say, chewing on a stale nacho chip from food you’d ordered hours ago.

“Seriously, he's almost nice sometimes” your pointed look tells her to drop it. Connie was nothing if not resilient and you were constantly amazed by her. You don’t know how she worked as a nurse. You had a hard enough time with the dead, how she also dealt with the living as well was beyond you. She was a quantifiable saint which was probably why she saw the good in Peña.

“Remind me to never make you mad” Steve says.

“No one holds a grudge quite like her” Connie exclaims

“Awe you say the sweetest things about me” you retort after finishing the last of your beer.

“Alright well I’ve got an early morning shift so we should be heading out, tell Javi I say hi” Connie says kissing Steve before the two of you exit the bar.

“Are you really going to keep up this affront against Javi?” Connie asks, interlinking your arms together as you exit the bar.

“Yes, now please and can we stop talking about Peña even thinking about him gets me riled up”

“I thought you said you hated him” she teases causing you to roll your eyes.

“Please don't make me gag” you say pulling a face that causes you both to break into a giggle fit.

“What up her ass? Seriously, am I infectious or something?” Javi asks, slumping down across from Steve who's filling out paperwork at his desk.

“Well considering your history, probability is pretty high” Steve quips back earning him a thwack to the head with a folder you’d dropped on Peña’s desk earlier that morning.

“You know her, what's her deal, why does she hate me?”

“Everyone hates you Javi, it’s a fundamental part of your personality” Steve laughs.

Javier usually wasn’t one to concern himself with how others perceived him, but his work frequently overligned with yours and he figured his life would be made infinitely easier if he could get into your good books. Sure, at first his intrigue in getting to know you was purely physical. He knew looks aren't everything, but for what he wanted, they played a fundamental part. He wasn’t the only person to have noticed you the day you showed up, all eyes were on you as you walked through the DEA embassy for the first time. Your arrival had sparked a competitive energy amongst the men with the agents often vying over who got the honour of dropping off case files to you. A few were apparently even so lucky to have actually spent the night, at least that's what he’d overheard some agents proclaiming loudly, making him doubt their validity.

He’d cracked down on what some would call “locker room talk” when he thought you and Steve were sleeping together, after seeing you leave his room early that one morning. Though if Steve had been spending nights with you he’d never brought it up to Javi, and after he started dating Connie there never seemed a right time to ask about you, so he let it go. He’d gotten more proactive with stopping it once you’d been hired on full time. He’d upped his guard when he’d caught one trying to cop a feel of your ass the day you had been called in on your day off. You’d come in wearing a skirt shorter than what would be considered workplace appropriate gaining you more attention than usual. He noticed the guys hand drop down low, but any contact was stopped when Javi smashed the guys arm back into the wall behind him. In most cases a move like that would have earned him a swift punch to the face but a simple raise of his eyebrows was enough to get the pervert to sit back down.

Despite the scene playing out a few feet from you, you never noticed carrying on about your day as if nothing had happened, headphones on, paperwork in your arms and various scrawlings across your hand, reminders of meetings he knew you'd be late to anyways. He assumes your chronic lateness was a tactic to spend as little time around him as possible. Your hatred for him was palpable, he wondered if it was as obvious to everyone else as it was to him. He'd noticed how you would stand in meetings when the only seat available was next to him. It was starting to get to his ego. He wanted to know what he possibly could have done to be treated like the scum of the earth by you. He’d heard from Connie that you didn’t like cops, but you got on fine with Steve. Your lives continued on with minimal interaction until the day you were called into the head of the DEA’s office.

“Office now!” your boss shouts from the door. Fuck. What have you done now?

“Hey you need something?” you ask, lips parted and forehead wrinkled, feeling like a child who’d just been called to the principal's office. Your head snaps to the left when you feel eyes boring into you, eyes belonging to Peña. He shifts around in the chair to escape your violent gaze. You turn to Steve who's gazing up at the ceiling.

“I have the dental results here for the missing persons from the case last week, it’s a match, I know it's late but...”

“It's not that,” he gestures his hand to the chair beside Peña and you sit, placing the documents down on the table. Javi cranes his neck slightly, eyes darting over the various statistics strewn across the page surprised you were able to piece it all together.

“You have an art degree right?”

“I have an art certificate” you correct

“and you paint”

“A bit”

“She was featured in local galleries back in the States” Steve pipes up.

“ Good, we need you to go undercover” you snort before laughing aloud. Your amusement quickly fades when you realize no one else was laughing with you.

“Wait you're serious? You want me... to go undercover? I'm not an agent, I can’t use a gun, I don’t think I've even held one before” you say, tearing through all the excuses you could think of.

“You can shoot a bow and arrow,” Steve pipes up.

“Ya very different instrument Steve, also does Connie tell you everything about me” he shrugs his shoulders.

“You won’t need a gun anyways, you'll have a trained agent with you at all times.” Your boss reassures.

“No. No way! Im sorry but this… this is beyond the scope of my work and my skill set” you assert, not budging.

“You’ve been to crime scenes before, you’ve been in dangerous scenarios, excavated mass graves, we need you you’re the only one who can help with this”

“Why? You have multiple agents out there who would kill to go undercover, why me?” you push

“ Your background, and relative anonymity. There's been an increase in art dealing amongst the sicarios.”

“So what? Maybe they just really like art.” you offer

“Does anyone really like art” Peña pipes up

“ Yes, the whole world actually” you shoot back, successfully shutting him up.

“We think they're using convincing fakes to smuggle drugs without suspicion” Steve offered, helping to clear up the situation.

“Okay... then hire an art expert to go in and see if the paintings are real”

“We need you to test for residue on the paintings, and to recreate one in time for the next move”

“Okay im good, but I am not good enough to recreate a painting worth thousands of dollars.”

“From what I’ve seen you are,” Steve says further cementing your fate.

“What if I say no?” you ask, exhaling deeply.

“Then you're fired” Javier pipes up, once again causing your head to turn to him.

“And who, pray tell, made you judge, jury and executioner” you spit “last time I check Javier Peña wasn’t the one signing my paychecks”

“No, but I am, and you will do this” Your boss's backing of Peñas statement makes the smirk on his face even more aggravating.

“Fine, but just know I will be personally mentioning you all in my will so everyone knows exactly who got me killed, and I'm gonna want a raise, more vacation time and a new piece of lab equipment if I make it out alive. ”

“Fine” you smile feeling slightly vindicated.

“So what's my story? Who am I to have a million dollar painting in my possession?” you ask, as your boss pulls up a document on his computer.

“You’ll go by Melanie Alverez nee Smith, you were born in London England to parents Maria and Calvin who passed in a car accident four weeks after your nineteenth birthday”

“Shit” you mutter, thinking about your own parents who were very much alive.

“You dropped out of Oxford where you were undertaking a degree in chemistry and moved to New York where you began painting. You were a struggling artist for the first two years but received funding to attend Julliard. After graduation your first major piece was accepted by a local gallery and put up for auction. It sold for 10,000$. The buyer wanted to meet you after seeing your photo. He’d sent thousands of flowers to your gallery before showing up and asking you on a date.

“Must be nice” you murmur

“After a whirlwind romance you eloped and moved down to Columbia where you continue to work as an artist.”

“Alright easy enough, short live romance is a good call that can be used to explain why we don’t know certain information about each other.”

“You'll be staying here” A huge spanish style house appears on the screen. Its prestige was only overshadowed by the mansion looming over it from across the private beach. Must be the target's house, you think.

“It was built by the target, he lives there with his fourth wife. He’s rich, sources claims from drug smuggling, they think he may even have direct links to Escobar

“Like, as in Pablo?” you ask, eyes widening.

“Apparently he’s his art dealer. We need you to go in and see what he knows, if it's not enough then test the paintings in their homes”

“And if they trace?”

“You'll give them the fake implemented with a tracking device so we can target its route.”

“Okay well I'd say easy enough but the threat of being murdered isn’t lost on me. Who's my husband anyways? Obviously he’s rich but did he tragically fall down the stairs and die, did I kill him?” you ask, smiling as Steve laughs.

“What?” you say looking up

“What...” you say as Steve refuses to meet your eyes as he chokes on his laugh.

“Well you haven’t killed him yet but I give it a week.” He responds.

“Who's my husband” you ask, again suddenly afraid and very aware that there were two men in this room, and one was currently laughing at you.

“Your lucky day sweetheart.” Your head turns comically slow to face Javi, the effect only causes Steve to snicker more.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” you whisper.

“This mission is anything, but a joke.” your boss interjects “If we can trace the arts movement it brings us one step closer to catching Escobar. I don’t know why there's animosity between you two and frankly I do not care. You two must work together. If you are to succeed you have to be believable. Study up on each others aliases the target hasn’t made it this far without being killed by being stupid. We’ve tried to get to him before with no success, he will be on high alert. You two will have to convince him, and his wife, that you’re sincere.”

[fandomgodmother420]

Okay so I saw

This post ^^

And I was like

Wait wait wait okay okay hang on wait a damn minute-

Because this is cursed rite we all know this is cursed but somethin about it got me thinkin it got me thinking quite a lot and it’s the idea of Callahans character being deaf and like obviously the way it’s done here is bad but it got me thinking okay well what if you did it well? What if it wasn’t garbage? What if it became a super important part of the show?

I think I have a new favorite au now?

Okay listen listen let me explain right-Callahan would still be a side character to the side characters but first things first he’d talk using sign language and literally the first thing that he signs when people try and talk to him is that he’s deaf. He also wouldn’t be able to understand people who talk to him, they’d have to either sign, write something down, or be super expressive. (Ik a lot of deaf people read lips but I feel like in media with deaf people almost all the time they like fully rely on lip reading and their almost superhumanly good at it and idk I think it would be cool for a deaf character to just not lip read-hardly ever) so now the fact that he’s deaf isn’t just something that you can drop in interviews for brownie points. Still, he’s hardly ever there and he’s not really a part of the story and that’s just kind of annoying and for a while it seems like that’s just how it’s gonna be, just one background background deaf character who’s pretty cool but who we almost never get to see...

But the explosions that went off during the pogtopia manburg war where pretty fuckin loud

And Quackity was right on top of them. He might’ve lost a cannon life to them-it’s kinda up for debate but for the purpose of the au we’re gonna say he did, because losing a cannon life affects your body. Your body changes to suit how you died-you get scars from losing a cannon life.

Here’s where it gets good

One of the next episodes post war is 100% Quackity focused and he wakes up in a bed and he’s like welp lets just hope I’m not as bad off as Tubbo was. There’s no rustling noise when he moves the sheets and blankets to look at himself, at this point the viewer might realize there’s no music in the background either, there’s no ambient noises from outside. Quackity sees he doesn’t have visible scaring anywhere and he’s like that’s weird but good for me? I guess? He walks outside and his footsteps don’t make any noise. Tubbo runs up to him and starts talking-except he’s not making any noise either. His mouth is moving but there’s no sound coming out of it. Both quackity and the viewer are currently experiencing what’s going on in 100% silence and Quackity starts to panic. A scar would’ve been fine, a limb he can live without, but this??? He can’t hear! He can’t hear anything! Fuck is he supposed to do now?

He runs to Sapnap and Karl, they’re not dating yet but they make him feel safe and he doesn’t know where else to go or what to do and Sapnaps like “I know a guy” but neither the audience nor Quackity hears him say it. His mouth moves but again, no sound. Nothing. Still he makes it clear that he has an idea and that he’ll be right back. Mans fuckin books it to Callahan and after a bit of frantic gestures and sloppy sign language because ya know of course Sapnap did try to learn sign to talk to Callahan at some point he just doesn’t practice nearly enough, Callahan comes over to Quackity and starts teaching him and Karl ASL and gives Sapnap a much needed review course.

That’s it. That’s the episode. An entire episode that’s 100% silent with no subtitles, that’s just Quackity learning how to function without being able to hear. In the places where Callahan can’t help Sapnap and Karl come in. Tubbo gets in on it too since he’s deaf in one ear ever since the festival. (Quackitys like damn cheif I didn’t even kno that and Tubbo admits to thinking it was just him being in shock for a long time until a bee flew around his ear for 20 minutes straight a week after the festival had happened and he didn’t know it was there until Tommy asked if he was gonna name it.) Quackity learns how to talk when he can’t hear himself speaking, how to read lips, what music is like when you can’t hear it, how to speak sign language, all that jazz.

One of the things about being deaf that scares the shit out of Quackity is not being able to hear people sneaking up on him and Tubbos like “oh you need a spotter” and Quackity makes it clear that he has no idea what the fuck that means. So Tubbo explains “a spotter, I don’t know if they actually have a different name but I call them that cuz they cover your blind spot. They’re like your eyes and ears where you don’t have any. That way nobody can sneak up on you.” If the audience is particularly observant they’ll realize that ever since the festival Tommy has always stood on Tubbos right, witch is where Tubbo had gotten scarred. (Later on after Tommy’s exiled Quackity and sometimes Fundy become the ones to cover Tubbos right, but Tubbo is more clearly on constant high alert than he used to be. On a few days like the one before the capturing techno and the one before the second festival he’s straight up jumpy and he hates it) So Quackity of course has a lot of questions is this is pretty important. “well how do I know who I should get to be my spotter? Do they need like training or something? Should I just get a service dog? ???” And Tubbos like “No. Well-maybe that’s the proper way to do it but I’d just go with someone I trust my life with-whoever makes you feel safest, go with that” and Sapnap and Karl start laughing like idiots because Quackity IMMEDIATELY grabs them-like Tubbos barley finished his sentence and Quackitys like ah yes

The hardest part is preserving Quackitys ability to speak Spanish, because he’s the only one who knows it so Karl Sapnap and Tubbo can’t tell him weather he’s pronouncing it right or not and none of them know Spanish sign language. Hell Karl and Tubbo didn’t even know Spanish sign language existed until that day. After a bit of panicking Sapnap is like “wait I know a guy” and Quackity can actually tell what he’s saying this time. (Woo parallels) So sapnap and Co. go to George who’s king now and has access to all of Erets king stuff. Turns out Erets castle has a whole shelf of translation guides for different languages and their sign language counterparts. She kept them for diplomacy reasons. It’s much harder to learn without Callahan teaching it, but progress is made and the gang decides they’ll keep working on learning it together. There’s still the problem of Quackity not being able to speak Spanish though, they end up going with does Quackity sound like how he normally does rn? for figuring out if he’s pronouncing things right. Karl and Sapnap are surprisingly good at being able to tell.

But here’s the best part rite:

So after this episode Quackity, Karl, Sapnap, Tubbo, and obvs Callahan all know sign language-they don’t all know it perfectly nobody’s gonna master it in a day but they’re working on it. And so now in later episodes in addition to the gang talking in sign language a lot when they’re the focus of a scene, you can make them talk to eachother in sign language while other stuff is going on!! No subtitles to translate or draw attention to it, some people might not even notice its happening, but if you watch them you can see them signing to eachother. You could add so many convos and lore and secrets and the best part is if the audience wants in on it they also have to learn sign language!!

Literally just-oh my god it would be the coolest thing okay like immagine:

Ranboos doing his dramatic speech to everyone. Y’all know the one-the one before doomsday after Tommy gets out of exhile. So like Ranboos doing his bit and Fundy and Nikki are arguing with him and :0! what’s this? Look in the background and Tubbo and Quackity are signing to eachother, Quackitys angry and Tubbo is somehow angrier and you watch them more closely to see what the hell is going on and realize (with your sign language knowledge)-they’re fighting about executing Ranboo.

LIKE HOW FUCKING COOL WOULD THAT BE HOLY SHIT

Anyways I have so many headcannons for this now I think it’s the coolest thing if there’s like a tag? Or something? For this thatd be so fuckin cool if there isn’t I feel like I should make one but idk what to call it ion know man I just think this is poggers as hell. To think it all sprung from someone making a DreamSMP as a garbage riverdale show joke

[orphaned-kiirokero]

Emacity (PJM)

Emacity: The desire or fondness of buying

Part of the “Protect the Village!” Oneshot Series!

Masterlist

Pairing: DeliveryBoy!Jimin x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Romance, mutual pining (kinda) 

Note: April will be my hibernation month lol

Summary: Whoever invented online shopping? A genius. Whoever hired Park Jimin to be the town’s delivery boy? An even bigger genius.

Word Count: 2.2k

      You wouldn’t call yourself a shopaholic. It’s not like you had an addiction to the point of needing an intervention. You knew what was a dumb purchase and what was a personal purchase. You actively searched high and low for coupons and discounts. You never bought something that you knew would end up in the garbage after one use. You were a responsible shopper. But shopping was like a hobby. 

      You were lucky enough to have the money to spoil yourself. You worked a well-paying job as a translator for businesses that are trying to branch out to new countries while also offering online language classes to international students. Switching between Korean, English, Spanish, AND French usually gave you a headache. And trying to translate a word that didn’t really exist in other languages was exhausting, but it paid well. 

And it gave you opportunities to see Jimin. 

      Park Jimin, Bangtan Village’s delivery boy. Worked at the post office seemingly 24/7 and is always voted employee of the month. Has a smile that’s permanently painted on his face and is as kind as a saint. What’s not to love about him? Besides that fact that his eyes sparkle with the same elegance as polished amber. Or the fact that his skin is perfectly smooth. Or that he emits an aura of confidence and stability. 

      Not that you know, but you can feel it. You and Jimin exchanged few words on the occasions when you get to see him. Simple, “Hey! How are you?” ’s and “Long time no see!” ‘s. But each word that reaches your ears are pieces of gold to you. You and Jimin didn’t really know each other, but you’d like to say that if you waved to him out in town, he’d wave back. 

      Your friend, Namjoon, liked to call you a lovesick idiot. Whenever you gushed to him about how Jimin smiled at you, he’d shake his head and say, “You’re a hopeless romantic and it’s tiring to me,” And today was like no other. 

      “I’m telling you, Namjoon! He has the cutest smile,” You sighed, watching your best friend work on his current project, Yoongi’s car. “I know, you’ve told me several times before,” He groaned, lifting his head from the machinery under the hood and looking at you with an unimpressed look. Absentmindedly wiping off his oily hands on his black stained hand towel. 

     “Why don’t you just talk to the dude? You know several languages yet you can’t communicate to a boy who speaks your native language?” He pointed out, leaning his hip up against the black car. “I may be able to chew you out in French, but I don’t speak ‘extrovert’” You argued back, a sly smirk on your face. 

    Namjoon rolled his eyes with a small smile, “You’re impossible,” He chuckled, “But you really should talk to him. You never know~ He may think you’re cute too~” He teased, dodging the spare hand towel you threw at him. “Stop teasing!” You whined, “You know I can’t, I’ll make a fool of myself and end up confessing to him in Spanish or something,” You groaned, slumping in your seat. 

     Namjoon tilted his head in confusion, “How do you accidentally switch to a whole other language,” He asked. “Trust me... It’s happened before...” You cringed, shivering at the less-than flattering memory. “Well... Maybe you should express it non-verbally?” He suggested, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly as he went back to tampering with Yoongi’s car. 

      “I appreciate your advice, Joon, but I don’t think I can even work up the courage to confess, verbally or not.” You sighed, giving Namjoon a somber look to which he responded with a comforting smile. Namjoon went back to work and you checked the time on your phone. 2:22pm. 

    “Shoot, I gotta go,” You said, standing up and grabbing your bag. “Why? I thought you didn’t teach on Wednesdays?” Namjoon asked, still working on the car. “I don’t but, I’m expecting a package,” You smiled to yourself. “You memorized when Jimin comes to deliver your packages? That’s kinda creepy Y/n,” Namjoon insinuated, squinting his eyes at you.

     You gasped, “Is not! I’ve just noticed that he always comes around 3pm... and I want to be there when my new keyboard comes.” You crossed your arms in defence. “Mhmm, go on then,” Namjoon chuckled, and you stomped your way out of his workshop back to your house. 

     You wait anxiously for a knock on your door. You sit on the couch, fiddling with the blanket that was draped over your lap. If you were being honest with yourself, you were more excited about seeing Jimin than getting your new peach-pink keyboard to complete your soft pastel desk setup. 

      You knew Namjoon was right about you being a lovesick idiot; you were in deep, and you haven’t even hung out with the man! You scoffed to yourself, shaking your head at the way his smile made your heart rate pick up and palms clammy. Maybe you could take Namjoon’s advice and invite him on a date. Not necessarily come completely clean and admit you were head over heels, but ease your way in instead.

Only problem is, you didn’t quite know how to do that...

      The long awaited knock finally sounded through your tiny house, and you stood up quicker than you should as blood rushed to your head, making you feel dizzy. Shaking it off, you go over to your door, opening it to reveal the very man you’ve been wanting to see all day. “Hey! What’s up Y/n?” Jimin greeted you with a smile, a small brown package under his arm. 

     “Hi Jimin, I’m doing good... What about you?” You asked, leaning up against the doorway. “I’m good, it’s a nice day out today,” He sighed, handing the package out for you, “Here you go! Your weekly package,” He joked, making you give him a lovesick smile that made you look like the woozy emoji. “T-Thanks,” You chuckled nervously. 

      “No problem,” Jimin said. “Hey um Jimin...” You called before he could walk away. “Yes?” Jimin inquired, raising an eyebrow. Shoot, what do you say? You didn’t think this through you.. You can’t just invite him out like a normal human, what if he says no? “I um- What’s your... favorite food...?” You asked, cringing at how pathetically shy you sounded. Jimin’s eyebrows knit together in confusion and he chuckled. “I like strawberry Pocky’s a lot,” He stressed, licking his lips at the thought. 

     You nodded, writing that down in your head for later. Maybe you could do something with this. “Cool, cool. Well, um, have a nice day!” You said, walking back into your house, package in hand, leaving Jimin confused and amused. “What a girl...” He whispers to himself, smile, like always, never leaving his face. 

     You continue to buy little things online just as an excuse to talk to Jimin. Who needs a mini cactus? You, apparently. And that chick plush you saw on Instagram? Boom, it now lives on your bed. Whenever he comes around, you take the opportunity to ask him questions like what his favorite color was or if he was allergic to anything. 

    You were planning something for him, and he was catching on. Sure, your questions were usually unprompted, but he’d humor you any day of the week. He may not know exactly what you were planning, but all he hoped was that it would change his life forever. And it would. 

     You were almost done with Jimin’s mini basket of favorites. A blue basket that held his favorite snack foods, stickers from his favorite shows, and some of those chunky rings he likes. Sure, maybe it was a bit excessive. Maybe this was teetering the line of weird and sweet, and you knew that bribing your way into a relationship was definitely not the way to go. But you just wanted to be nice. 

     Maybe buying things for others was your love language, or maybe Jimin was just worth spoiling. It was probably both. Whatever the real answer was, it didn’t matter to you. You just wanted Jimin to be happy. 

     Even if meticulously fiddling with the basket made you want to pull your hair out as the bow never looked quite right. Realistically you know it wouldn’t matter in the end and that Jimin would likely take the bow off after he received it, but you still adjusted it until it was perfect. 

     “Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want, Joon,” You sighed as you heard Namjoon hysterically laughing on the other side of the phone. “You’re going to bribe him into going on a date with you?” He asked, out of breath. “No! I just want to be nice,” You bit back, rolling your eyes even if Namjoon couldn’t see you. “Wow, the irony of Jimin delivering the gifts that your going to end up giving back,” Namjoon chuckled, finally calming down. 

     “Look, I’m just trying to follow your advice,” You whined, finally giving up on the navy blue bow and leaving it be. “True, I was thinking about a banner or something though. Like a cheesy promposal,” Namjoon said, and you could hear the undertones in his words. What he really wanted to say was, “How dramatic could you be? This is too much honey,” 

     Groaning, you flopped down on your couch, mumbling into the cushions. “I think I’m going to give it to him today, I have another mini cactus coming today,” You said, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness swirl in your stomach at the thought of finally asking the man you’ve been pining over out on a date. “That’s great! He’ll definitely say yes,” Namjoon said excitedly, trying to keep your fragile spirits intact. Knowing that if anything goes wrong, you’ll chicken out immediately. 

     “Yeah, I can do this,” You smiled, looking at the clock on your oven. “It’s 2:30, I have to go prepare. I’ll call you after!” You said, exchanging your goodbyes with Namjoon and hanging up the phone to go clean yourself up a little bit. 

    You weren’t terribly worried about your appearance. Jimin had seen you in coffee stained sweats and hoodies. There wasn’t anything worse than that. So you opted for a simple t-shirt and legging combo, washing your face and touching up your hair a bit. “Now to wait,” You whispered to yourself as you sat on the couch with the basket in your lap. 

     While you waited on the couch for Jimin to arrive, you looked at the mini cactus that sat on your coffee table and chuckled. Usually you bought things that may seem random to an outside person. A mouse that looks like a cat's paw, a throw pillow that doubles as a blanket, random earrings. But never a mini cactus. 

     After you asked all the questions you could think of and bought everything that you thought Jimin would like, you didn’t have an excuse to keep seeing Jimin. So, like a normal person, you bought little knickknacks. Hence the mini cactus and it’s new friend that’s on the way today. 

Knock knock knock

“Well, your new buddy’s here lil’ cactus dude,” 

     Taking a deep breath, you stood up and walked over to the door, hiding the basket behind your back. “Hello, Y/n,” Jimin smiled as you opened the door for him. “Hey,” You smiled back, tightening your grip on the basket behind you. “Here you go, another odd stationary?” Jimin guessed as he held out the package for you and you took it with one hand, placing it down behind the door.

      “I guess you could say that,” You chuckled, nervously shifting on your feet. “Speaking of... I have something for you,” You mumbled, but loud enough for Jimin to hear. “Is it another impromptu question? You haven’t asked one in awhile,” He chuckled, his cute eyes upturning into crescents.

“Close your eyes to find out,” You said.

“Close my eyes? Is this the part where you murder me?” Jimin teased, causing you to playfully roll your eyes. 

“No... just close them,” You whined. 

      “Alright, I’ll close them,” Jimin relented, closing his eyes at your request. Taking another shaky deep breath, you took the basket out from behind your back and held it in front of you. “Open...” You whispered. 

      Once Jimin opened his eyes, he let out a cute gasp, eyes lighting up at the sign of the gift. “W-What’s this?” He asked, looking up at you with a huge smile on his face. “It’s um, all your favorites. Jimin’s basket of favorites,” You declared, holding the basket out for Jimin to take, which he happily did. “Y/n, this is amazing. What’s the special occasion?” He asked, looking down at the assorted gifts and snacks. 

      “You’re always making me smile, so I wanted to return the favor,” You shrugged in an attempt to look casual about it. “Really? I make you smile?” Jimin smirked, making your cheeks heat up. “Y-Yeah you do...” You admitted, kicking at the rocks on your porch. “You’re such a sweet girl, Y/n, cute too,” Jimin whispered to you, causing your breath to hitch. 

“C-Cute?” 

“Yep, you’re a cutie,” Jimin said, booping your nose.

“Would you um... Let this cutie ask you out to lunch?” You asked. 

“Most definitely,”

“Park Jimin, do you want to grab lunch sometime?”

“It’s a date, cutie,”

[voguingtodanzig]

THE CELESTIAL JUKEBOX, PRESENT TENSE - 250 SONGS

Again, some of this is personal and sentimental, linked to time and place and experience.

50 Cent, “Many Men (Wish Death)”

100 gecs, “800db cloud”

10,000 Maniacs, “Candy Everybody Wants”

Bryan Adams, “Everything I Do”

Herb Alpert & The Tijuana Brass, “Spanish Flea”

America, “Sister Golden Hair”

Julie Andrews, “My ​​Favorite Things”

Animal Collective, “Brother Sport”

Aphex Twin, “Tha”

Fiona Apple, “Extraordinary Machine”

Louis Armstrong, “What a Wonderful World”

Ash, “Shining Light”

Atlantic Starr, “Always”

Atlas Sound, “Washington School”

Autechre, “Vose In”

The B-52s, “Deadbeat Club”

Bananarama, “Cruel Summer”

The Beatles, “All My Loving”

Beck, “Girl”

Belle & Sebastian, “Seymour Stein”

Benoit & Sergio, “Boy Trouble”

Beyoncé, “Countdown”

Bikini Kill, “Alien She”

Bilal, “West Side Girl”

Bjork, “It’s Oh So Quiet”

Black Dice, “Pigs”

Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, “Stop”

The Black-Eyed Peas, “Imma Be”

Blast Off Country Style, “Cutie Pie”

Blondie, “Heart of Glass”

The Bloodhound Gang, “Your Only Friends Are Make-Believe”

The Box Tops, “The Letter”

Brainiac, “I Am A Cracked Machine”

Michelle Branch, “Everywhere”

Laura Branigan, “Gloria”

The Breeders, “Off You”

Danny Brown, “Gremlins”

James Brown, “Get Up I Feel Like Being a Sex Machine”

Jackson Browne, “Somebody’s Baby”

Vanessa Carlton, “A Thousand Miles”

Harry Chapin, “Cat’s in the Cradle”

Tracy Chapman, “Fast Car”

The Carpenters, “Yesterday Once More”

Julian Casablancas and the Voidz, “Human Sadness”

The Chemical Brothers, “Free Yourself”

Chixdiggit!, “My Restaurant”

Cibo Matto, “Sunday, Pt. 1”

Ciara feat. Missy Elliott, “One, Two Step”

Clipse, “Dirty Money”

Jim Croce, “Operator”

Crosby, Stills, and Nash, “You Don’t Have To Cry”

Christopher Cross, “Ride Like the Wind”

Cryptacize, “Mythomania”

Crystal Castles, “Air War”

Culture Club, “Karma Chameleon”

Terrence Trent D’Arby, “Sign Your Name”

Daft Punk, “Around the World”

Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick & Tich, “Hold Tight”

Dead Kennedys, “Kill the Poor”

DeBarge, “The Rhythm of the Night”

Deerhoof, “+81”

Deerhunter, “Octet”

Depeche Mode, “Personal Jesus”

Dial, “Helium”

The Diplomats, “Dipset Anthem”

DMX, “Stop Being Greedy”

The Doobie Brothers, “Black Water”

Dr. Dre feat. Snoop Dogg, “Nuthin’ But a G Thang”

The-Dream, “Love King”

Duran Duran, “Hungry Like The Wolf”

Bob Dylan, “Positively 4th Street”

The Eagles, “Lyin’ Eyes”

Eat Skull, “Cooking a Way to be Happy”

Elastica, “Connection”

The Everly Brothers, “All I Have to Do is Dream”

The Ben Folds Five, “The Battle of Who Could Care Less”

Eleanor Friedberger, “Stare at the Sun”

Eminem feat. Dido, “Stan”

Brian Eno, “Cindy Tells Me”

Eurythmics, “Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)”

Extreme, “More Than Words”

The Fall, “Glam-Racket”

Roberta Flack, “Killing Me Softly With His Song”

Flipper, “Ha Ha Ha”

Dan Fogelberg, “Longer”

The Free Design, “The Proper Ornaments”

Fur, “Devil to the Lamb”

Garbage, “Only Happy When It Rains”

Judy Garland, “Over the Rainbow”

Kevin Gates, “Paper Chasers”

Ghostface Killah, “Shakey Dog”

Freddie Gibbs, “20 Karat Jesus”

Godspeed You! Black Emperor, “The Dead Flag Blues”

Gorillaz feat. De La Soul, “Feel Good Inc.”

Go Sailor, “I’m Still Crying”

Granddaddy, “A.M. 180”

Colleen Green, “I Want to Grow Up”

Green Day, “Basket Case”

Grimes, “REALITi”

Gucci Mane, “Break Ya Self (Brrrussia version)”

Guided By Voices, “Teenage FBI”

Harvey Danger, “Flagpole Sitta”

Helium, “XXX”

Keri Hilson, “Pretty Girl Rock”

Hole, “Malibu”

The Hollies, “All I Need Is The Air That I Breathe”

Michael Jackson, “Rock With You”

Jay-Z, “Hard Knock Life”

Henry Jacobs, “Guitar Lesson”

Jawbreaker, “Fireman”

Jeremih, “Oui”

Jewel, “Standing Still”

Jimmy Eat World, “Sweetness”

Billy Joel, “Uptown Girl”

Scott Joplin, “The Entertainer”

Journey, “Don’t Stop Believin’”

Juelz Santana, “Mixin’ up the Medicine”

R. Kelly feat. T.I. & T-Pain, “I’m a Flirt (Remix)”

Kool and the Gang, “Celebration”

Lana Del Rey, “Off to the Races”

Lagwagon, “May 16”

The Libertines, “Horror Show”

Limp Bizkit, “Re-Arranged”

Lindstrom, “Where You Go I Go Too”

Lisa Lisa & Cult Jam, “Lost in Emotion”

Lit, “My Own Worst Enemy”

The Lonely Island feat. T-Pain, “I’m on a Boat”

Lotus Plaza, “What Grows?”

Lower Dens, “Candy”

Courtney Love, “I’ll Do Anything”

Love As Laughter, “Idol Worship”

M.I.A, “Bamboo Banga”

Madonna, “Hung Up”

Madlib, “Mystic Bounce”

Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks, “Ramp of Death”

The Mamas and the Papas, “California Dreamin’”

John Mayer, “New Light”

Meek Mill, “Dreams and Nightmares Intro”

Men at Work, “Safety Dance”

George Michael, “Faith”

The Modern Lovers, “I’m Straight”

Modest Mouse, “Heart Cooks Brain”

The Moldy Peaches, “Nothing Came Out”

Chris Montez, “The More I See You”

Alanis Morissette, “Head Over Feet”

Jason Mraz and Colbie Caillat, “Lucky”

MXPX, “Party, My House, Be There”

My Bloody Valentine, “You Never Should”

Nas, “The World Is Yours”

Johnny Nash, “I Can See Clearly Now”

Neu!, “Hallogallo”

New Order, “Subculture”

New Pornographers, “The Laws Have Changed”

Wayne Newton, “Danke Schoen”

Harry Nilsson, “Jump into the Fire”

Nine Inch Nails, “Wish”

Nirvana, “About a Girl”

The Notorious B.I.G., “Warning”

Maura O’Connell, “Summerfly”

The Orb, “Little Fluffy Clouds”

Panda Bear, “Mr Noah”

Pavement, “Harness Your Hopes (BBC Evening Session)”

Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth, “They Reminisce Over You (T.R.O.Y.)”

Liz Phair, “Shane”

Pinhead Gunpowder, “I Am An Elephant”

The Platters, “Only You (And You Alone)”

The Pointer Sisters, “Jump”

Michael Praetorius, “Es ist ein Ros entsprungen”

Elvis Presley, “A Little Less Conversation”

Primal Scream, “Keep Your Dreams”

The Prodigy, “Breathe”

Propaghandi, “Anti-Manifesto”

Brian Protheroe, “Pinball”

Psychic Graveyard, “No”

Public Enemy, “Fight The Power”

Aileen Quinn, “Tomorrow”

Radiohead, “A Wolf at the Door”

Gerry Rafferty, “Right Down the Line”

Bonnie Raitt, “Something to Talk About”

The Ramones, “Chain Saw”

Otis Redding, “(Sittin’ On) The Dock of the Bay”

Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross, “In Motion”

Lou Reed and Metallica, “Junior Dad”

Rihanna feat. Jay-Z, “Umbrella”

Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton, “Islands in the Stream”

The Rolling Stones, “Sympathy for the Devil”

Linda Ronstadt and James Ingram, “Somewhere Out There”

Rosemary Krust, “Private Amber”

Diana Ross, “Theme From Mahogany”

Roxy Music, “More Than This”

A Savage, “Eyeballs”

The Shangri-Las, “Leader of the Pack”

Shanice, “I Love Your Smile”

Ed Sheeran, “Thinking Out Loud”

Sightings, “Yellow”

The Silver Jews, “Blue Arrangements”

Alan Silvestri, “The Back to the Future theme”

Paul Simon, “Kodachrome”

Ashlee Simpson, “Pieces of Me”

Slade, “Cum On Feel the Noize”

The Smashing Pumpkins, “Here’s to the Atom Bomb (New Wave version)”

The Soft Pink Truth, “Do They Owe Us A Living?”

Sonic Youth, “Jams Run Free”

Jordan Sparks and Chris Brown, “No Air”

Spoon, “The Mystery Zone”

Starving Weirdos, “Land Lines”

Stereolab, “Plastic Mile”

The Strokes, “12:51”

Swell Maps, “Let’s Build A Car”

Taylor Swift, “Style”

Stylophonic, “R U Experienced”

Jazmine Sullivan, “Mascara”

Suicidal Tendencies, “Institutionalized”

Taco, “Puttin’ on the Ritz”

James Taylor, “You’ve Got a Friend”

Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky, “Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy”

Throwing Muses, “Not Too Soon”

TLC, “Baby-Baby-Baby”

Tortoise, “Djed”

The Toys, “A Lover’s Concerto”

John Travolta and Olivia Newton-John, “Summer Nights”

A Tribe Called Quest, “Can I Kick It?”

UB40, “Red Red Wine”

Joe Walsh, “Life’s Been Good”

Scott Weiland, “Paralysis”

Steely Dan, “Do It Again”

Stiff Little Fingers, “Suspect Device”

Stylophonic, “RU Experienced?”

T.I., “What You Know”

Mary Timony, “Blood Tree”

that dog., “I’m Gonna See You”

The Tymes, “So Much In Love”

Ultimate Painting, “Out in the Cold”

The Unicorns, “Child Star”

The Velvet Underground, “The Gift”

Waka Flocka Flame, “Hard in da Paint”

Ween, “Even If You Don’t”

Weezer, “Endless Bummer”

Kanye West, “Devil in a New Dress (G.O.O.D. Fridays version)”

WHAM!, “Wake Me Up (Before You Go-Go)”

White Hassle, “Oh, What a Feeling”

Matthew Wilder, “Break My Stride”

Bill Withers, “Lean on Me”

Wolf Eyes, “Human Animal”

Stevie Wonder, “My Cherie Amour”

Wye Oak, “Siamese”

The Yeah Yeah Yeahs, “Maps”

Yo La Tengo, “My Heart’s Reflection”

Zaimph, “Removing Bits of History”

The Zombies, “Time of the Season”