#next time anyone tells you to vote blue beat them with a bat

[sscarletvenus]

today protesters for Palestine interrupted jimmy kimmel's subpar talk show segment with the war criminal kamala harris, rightfully calling the VP a "murderer" for her relentless championing of the dehumanisation of Palestinians and playing active accomplice in catalyzing the genocide of Gazans by the US-backed zionist entity.

this clip is horrifying in more aspects than one, absolutely jarring beyond all reasonable comprehension.

one day after the zionist entity dissipates into dust and defeat, our children will ponder why when people begged the Vice President to stop the beheading of Palestinian babies, kimmel joked that they're "ruining his flow," while simultaneously cueing the band to play off the protesters.

deplorable too are those in the audience, sitting quietly or trying to quiet the voices of sensible and moral dissent. then there's the rent-a-cop on a power trip, as always involved on extra-judicial brutalization, assaulting and kidnapping civilians.

i am forever flummoxed by the liberal elite's capacity for cruelty and yet.

[dinosaurtsukki]

wherefore art thou, romeo? | an osamu x f!reader one-shot

pairing: osamu miya x f!reader

word count: 6.1k words

contains: a boatload of crack, fluff if you squint, high school setting, more bickering than working on the actual play, mutual pining, best friends to lovers, brief mentions of the romeo and juliet with leonardo di caprio in it

summary: being best friends with the miya twins for years has prepared you for all of their shenanigans but even you’re taken by surprise when osamu, the guy you’ve been in love with for years, nominates you to play juliet for the class play and atsumu to play romeo

a/n: *squints at word count* okay this was supposed to be released in three chapters but i ended up writing all of it in one go and i didn’t know exactly where to separate the chapters so here it goes 

the day started out fairly normal, if fairly normal meant that your two best friends were using your ruler to divide a candy bar accurately into two during homeroom while waiting for the teacher, could be called ‘fairly normal.’ but when those two friends were the miya twins, that’s how normal things got. the teacher arrived a bit later, announcing some reminders about the cultural festival dates, before the time was handed over to the Class President, a guy with glasses and straight black hair that you and your friends just called ‘Mr. President.’

“for the cultural festival, our class, due to majority votes, has decided to put on the play: ‘Romeo and Juliet,’“ Mr. President announced. judging from his cheeky smile, you could tell that he may have had a hand in those ‘majority votes.’ 

“aw, yuck. don’t tell me ya voted for that, y/n,” atsumu nudged you from behind your desk.

“why are you assuming its me?” you grumbled, batting his hand away.

“aw, no crepe cafe then,” osamu said sullenly beside you. your gaze was pulled to him, as it always was. now that the spring inter-high was over, osamu was mostly in his school uniform, not that you minded. his silver hair, that he got in trouble with the principal for, was pushed haphazardly to the side and gleamed in the sunlight.

“now,” Mr. President continued. “what we have to decide on right now is who gets which acting roles and who gets to do the technical jobs.”

“painting sets? painting sets?” atsumu poked you and osamu. 

“hmm, i’d kind of like to work on the lights,” you hummed, already imagining yourself scrolling through your phone and switching on the spotlight once every few minutes. osamu was quiet and you knew he was probably thinking of painting sets too.

“now, is there anyone who’d like to volunteer for playing romeo?” Mr. President asked, surveying the class. “you can also nominate people and--”

osamu abruptly raised his hand up. your eyes widened, wondering if he was going to volunteer. atsumu had the same concern.

“whoa, whoa. don’t tell me yer thinkin’ of playing romeo?” atsumu laughed incredulously.

but that isn’t what osamu did. in full Dramatic Flair, osamu miya pointed at his twin and announced “i nominate miya atsumu to play romeo.”

the laughter in atsumu’s voice died as quickly as the class erupted into murmurs. based on the snatches of conversation you heard, atsumu was going to be wielding a sword and probably wearing tights.

“okay, that’s one nomination for atsumu to play romeo,” Mr. President nodded, writing atsumu’s name on the board. you stifled a giggle as you heard atsumu stand up in his seat behind you.

“wait! wait! i nominate ‘samu to play romeo!” atsumu exclaimed hurriedly. the reaction wasn’t as loud as before and osamu flashed his twin a smug grin. 

“i’ll make sure to get a nice, bright spotlight on you,” you smiled cheekily at him.

“so, we have atsumu-san nominated to play romeo and--”

“i’m not done,” osamu interrupted. “i also nominate y/n to play juliet.” 

if atsumu reacted at a snail’s pace, yours was quite similar to how ketchup fell out of a bottle: none at first, before coming out all at once. within that length of time you spent staring into the void, Mr. President already wrote down your name on the blackboard and proceeded with the rest of the nominations (there weren’t any). the class voted, and you just barely felt someone pat you on the back to congratulate you for the role.

it was right when the decision over the roles was over when you turned slowly towards osamu, who had the audacity to flash a peace sign at you, and whisper ‘what have you done?’

...

“I CAN’T BELIEVE YA NOMINATED US TO PLAY ROMEO AND JULIET!” you and atsumu practically screamed at osamu during lunch break and for the rest of the day until you got to the miya twins’ house, where you spent most of your time, and cracked open the script that Mr. President handed out.

“sheesh, that was hours ago. get over it already,” osamu said, not looking up from the book he was reading: Beginner Techniques in Set Design. you didn’t even think he was reading, just mocking you and atsumu about the fact that he got the awesome job of painting sets. 

“it was hours ago but atsumu and i are stuck with rehearsals for weeks!” you complained.

“not only that, but we’d have ta read shit and memorize shit,” atsumu seethed. “and we know that y/n sucks at that!” 

“hey! i bet i could do better than you!” 

“i don’t think ya can!” 

osamu watched the battle from the top of his book, smiling to himself as you and atsumu quickly got into one of your fights that distracted you from the main reason behind the fight: osamu himself. ‘they’re still just like kids,’ he thought, watching you proceed to trap atsumu in a headlock. 

the three of you had been the best of friends since grade school when you pushed atsumu off a jungle gym and osamu laughed and high-fived you. it was when the three of you were eating breakfast after a sleepover in your first year of high school, when you said that atsumu only had two brain cells and that ‘one was a skater boy, the other said see you later boy’ and osamu laughed so hard he got milk coming out of his house, that he realized he just might be in love with you. 

“so, why didn’t you nominate yourself to play romeo?” suna asked him the next day while they were in the middle of stapling felt stars on a piece of dark blue fabric. like osamu, he was also lucky enough to be put in set design. “i mean, if you like her so much.” 

“because i don’t want to play romeo,” osamu said as-a-matter-of-factly. “and i think making ‘tsumu do it is hilarious.”

“you really do have a one-track mind,” suna hummed and turned around to where atsumu and y/n were already busy working on the scene where romeo and juliet meet.

“ugh i have to kiss her hand?” 

“well, do you want to kiss my foot?” 

“i’d rather kick ya in the face!” 

“you know, i feel like this on its own would make a great play,” suna said, watching the scene. 

“a romeo and juliet where the lovers actually hate each other but their opposing families desperately want to push them into an arranged marriage. sounds pretty neat,” osamu mused.

“okay, why don’t you two take a break, collect yourselves, and then we’ll come back in ten,” Mr. President sighed. at that, you and atsumu quickly stopped quarreling and stalked off in different directions. you headed straight for osamu and suna.

“sometimes i can’t tell who’s the more insufferable one between you two,” you narrowed your eyes at osamu who had the audacity (the only thing he never seemed to run out of) to smile innocently.

“it’s one of life’s greatest mysteries. like, whether the chicken or the egg came first,” suna added. 

“just give it a few weeks. atsumu will soon embrace his fate and you’ll be an amazing juliet,” osamu patted the top of your head. if you weren’t so annoyed with him you would have felt the butterflies in your stomach. except now you just wanted to bite his hand off.

“you know what, i’m going to kita’s later,” you muttered, pulling your phone out to text kita shinsuke, aka your adoptive mother. 

“hmm? why?” osamu asked.

“because he’s the only sane person i know. plus he’ll help me out with my lines,” you explained, sighing with relief when you got a prompt reply from kita.

“oh, well i was planning to buy some convenience store snacks that i saw on sale for when i do homework later,” osamu said, trying not to sound disappointed.

“maybe next time,” you smiled apologetically. “but in the meantime, maybe get your twin over there to memorize his and not fuck up.” osamu looked up at his brother who was holding the script up a few inches from his face.

“you’re right,” osamu agreed. “but, it would also be funny to edit out a few words here and there.” you returned his cheeky grin.

“you read my mind.”

...

“kitaaa what if it means something that osamu chose to make me and atsumu romeo and juliet,” you groaned, face planted on the coffee table in kita’s living room while he peeled tangerines. “like, what if he realized i actually liked him for this long and this is his way of friend-zoning me?”

“osamu’s the kind of person who’d tell you right away if he doesn’t have the same feelings for you,” kita shook his head.

“that means he’s going to reject me soon!” you sat up, planting your hands on the table.”

“y/n, you’re doing it again,” kita gently reminded. “think of it this way, maybe he nominated you to play juliet because he wants to see you as juliet. but he’s not fully ready for the commitment so he nominated atsumu to be romeo.”

“or he just wants to mess with us, which is probably the case,” you chuckled half-heartedly. “maybe i’ll just believe that.”

“or, think of it this way,” kita placed a peeled tangerine into your hand, like the mom friend that he was. “you could use the opportunity to be the best juliet ever, someone that osamu can barely tear his eyes away from.”

“and i can show up atsumu at the same time!” you grinned at the idea. kita sighed.

“you know, i feel like your sheer desire to just beat atsumu at everything may be a hindrance but go on.” 

“yeah, yeah, you lost me at ‘beat atsumu at everything’,” you sang as you cracked open your script. “now help me. i have to memorize all this by tomorrow.” 

...

“i think yer all wondering why i’ve gathered ya here today,” atsumu began.

“we’re... in the volleyball clubroom,” aran spoke slowly.

“which is where we always hang out,” suna added. atsumu raised an eyebrow and a hand to silence them, which sometimes worked.

“i’ve gathered ya guys to form the all-important, top-secret team with only one goal in mind!” atsumu paused for dramatic effect, which suna purposely ruined by coughing. “we’re gonna to get myself out of playing romeo for the class play.” 

“let me guess, whatever it takes?” aran asked, his arms folded.

“whatever it takes!”

and atsumu took that completely seriously. the next day, he gathered aran and suna to the clubroom again to execute his master plan, version 1: operation casting call.

“get it? cause, ya know, i’m part of a cast, and i’ll be showing up in a cast,” atsumu grinned proudly, showing off the roll of bandages that he bought yesterday at a drugstore. 

“okay, first of all: lame pun,” aran sighed. “secondly, that’s not a cast you’re just wrapping your foot in bandages and not encasing it in plaster which i think was what you were originally going for. lastly, do you realize just how many holes your plan has?”

“oh yeah? like what?” atsumu crossed his arms and scoffed.

“like the fact that your twin brother would know whether or not you were injured yesterday,” suna brought up.

“...i’ll jus’ say that i sprained my ankle jus’ now,” atsumu said.

“as if he’s going to believe you,” suna snorted.

“i’m just saying, please ditch this plan before you embarrass yourself,” aran sighed. atsumu felt his face heat up with embarrassment.

“sh-shut up! this plan is gonna work and i’m not gonna play fuckin’ romeo for another day!” atsumu snapped. “now help bind my foot.” 

aran and suna looked at each other. “you’re taking a video of what’s happening later,” aran said while suna nodded.

“i hate ya guys,” atsumu crossed his arms. 

a few minutes later, his foot was all wrapped up thanks to aran and atsumu was propped up on suna as he hobbled into the classroom. with full dramatic flair that he never seemed to run out of, atsumu slid open the door to the classroom.

“Mr. President! sorry to say this but i sprained my ankle!” he cried. everyone inside turned to look at him with you raising an eyebrow at the dubious looking ‘sprained ankle.’ 

“you know, if you spoke like that all the time you’d make a great romeo,” his twin quickly piped up from near the door where he was busy painting a tree.

“shut up ‘samu, ya traitor,” atsumu muttered at him. Mr. President had walked closer and inspected the bound foot.

“osamu, is this true?” he asked.

“w-wha? don’t ya believe me?” atsumu splattered. beside him, suna had already brought out his phone. mad, atsumu pushed himself off his ‘friend’ and tapped his ‘sprained’ foot on the ground. ‘it hurts! see! ow!” atsumu lied.

quick as a flash, osamu kicked atsumu’s good foot, causing him to hop on his ‘sprained’ foot. 

“fuck! ‘samu!” he yelled. 

“well, i guess there’s nothing to worry about,” Mr. President smiled and clapped his hands together. “and atsumu-san, that was a good attempt at acting. i hope you channel that passion into rehearsal today.” 

atsumu could do nothing else but mumble. “yeah, fine...”

...

“i can’t believe atsumu even thought that his plan would work,” you laughed, recounting the events of earlier that day. you were sprawled across the wooden floor backstage the theater your class was going to use for the cultural festival. osamu was right beside you, painting one of the backdrops for the play. 

“i really do think all the brainpower went to me sometimes,” osamu mused as he carefully painted the sky around the white clouds. there was a look of pure concentration on his face that made you think that maybe osamu was quite excited to do the set design for the play. ‘it’s always the things that you don’t really expect him to get into,’ you wondered as you watched him. 

“hey, is this shade of blue a bit too... blue?” he asked, holding the paintbrush to you. you scooted over next to him, grateful for the excuse to be nearer osamu. 

“it could use a bit more white to look more like the sky,” you answered.

“hmm, can you pass me that can of white from over there?” 

“sure, let me just-- hey!”

a splatter of blue paint landed on your nose as osamu swiped his paint brush over it. once again, he had the audacity to snicker as you grabbed the paint brush from him to splatter blue paint over his hair.

“you are so dead, miya osamu,” you narrowed your eyes and grinned at him as you picked up the tube of red paint from beside your knees.

“wait, wait y/n,” osamu laughed and held up his hands in surrender. “that’s red paint right there.” 

“you didn’t seem to have a problem with brushing light blue paint on my nose!” you exclaimed pointing at your face. 

“well, it is a bit of a good look because it brings out your eyes--” he was cut off by you squirting red paint right at his face. slowly, osamu raised a hand to touch the paint on his cheek. “you know, i kind of deserve that.” 

“you definitely do,” you stared down at him with both hands on your hips before bursting out laughing. osamu blinked up at you before joining in the laughter. even with your blue nose, you still looked absolutely radiant. just like how you were earlier during rehearsals as you did your best performance of juliet. you captured everyone’s attention and even atsumu actually made an effort to get to your level.

“come on,” osamu chuckled, standing up and ruffling your hair with the hand that still had red paint on it. “let’s go wash up.” 

the feeling of him ruffling your hair was such an old and familiar gesture that you couldn’t even remember when osamu started doing that. but you could clearly remember everything else you did when you were kids. watching cartoons and mixing different kinds of cereal in the morning, trying to climb up the drainpipes into each other’s rooms, the endless cycle of calling each other names, crying from too much teasing, and saying sorry only to forget two minutes later. 

you watched, head cocked to the side as osamu washed the paint from his face while you dried your hair. he didn’t realize just how much soap he was getting in his eyes and the cute, childishness of it made you giggle.

“what?” osamu looked, or rather, turned his head to you.

“your eyes are going to burn at this rate,” you snickered, stepping over to him and placing your hands under the faucet before gently washing the soap from osamu’s face. you didn’t even realize what you were doing until you were doing it and by then, it was too late. osamu didn’t seem to mind, not even when you used the towel around his neck to pat his face dry.

“there, now you just have a big red stain on your nose,” you laughed nervously as osamu opened his eyes.

“at least it goes with my hair,” osamu snickered, tossing his towel over your head before ruffling it. you felt your face heat up and smiled awkwardly at him in response.

“is this your idea of trying to dry my hair?”

“i think it’s kind of working.”

“it’s not working,” you laughed, taking the towel from him. “but thanks.” you felt your throat tighten with the words you wanted but were too afraid to say. you didn’t know when you started falling for one of your best friends and maybe it was thanks to all the shoujo manga you’ve read for years, but you knew that the best friend and the main character rarely ever got together. 

luckily, it was osamu who said something. “you know, you were pretty good earlier as juliet. i bet ‘tsumu was threatened,” he laughed, lifting his bag and starting to walk towards the school exit. you jogged to catch up to him. 

“no thanks to you though,” you snorted. 

“hey, it’s all for the sake of making memories,” 

“we could have made memories while painting sets,” you huffed. “you know, like more paint fights.” osamu flashed a sideways smile at you.

“we’d have those regardless. i wanted to see you as juliet.” 

you could feel your heart beating loudly in your ears as you forced yourself to think of a million other reasons as to why osamu would say that, only to focus on the single, most probable one that could mean everything you’ve ever dreamed of coming true. “osamu, i--” 

“i can’t believe ya left me!” atsumu exclaimed loudly behind you two, causing you to jump. you turned around just as he slung his arms around both of you and his twin.

“i can’t believe you thought pretending to sprain your ankle would work,” osamu muttered, looking slightly annoyed at his twin.

“shut up! i can’t believe ya’d break my cover! my own brother!”

“i think you two are way past that already,” you snickered, slightly annoyed at atsumu’s sudden appearance but unable to admit that you didn’t miss having him around either.

‘if i never get to confess to osamu, i’ll still have this,’ you thought, with a satisfied smile on your face.

...

“no offense, atsumu, but i think you should just move on from the fact that your plan to get yourself out of playing romeo just isn’t going to work,” suna said, lounging across his friend’s bed and uploading the video he took of atsumu’s ‘master plan’ failing. “just accept your fate, like what romeo did.” atsumu stopped pacing and regarded suna with a raised eyebrow.

“ya read the play?” 

“i read the summary,” suna answered. “at this rate, everyone knows you’re going to be faking some accident.” atsumu made no response and suna realized he needed just one more push. “also, you’re basically losing to y/n.” 

that got atsumu’s attention. “since when did she wanna be juliet anyway?” he muttered. 

just then, the door to their room flew open and in walked a very excited aran carrying a relic from the past, an actual DVD in its case, and a bag from the convenience store.

“yer late,” atsumu scowled at him. 

“yeah, and you didn’t listen to what i said and looked really dumb earlier,” aran said, much to atsumu’s embarrassment. “anyway, i think i have a solution to your woes,” he grinned, presenting the DVD to the two of them.

“what the fuck am i gonna do with movie ‘romeo and juliet?’“ atsumu frowned.

“it’s not just any romeo and juliet movie, it’s the romeo and juliet movie!” aran said enthusiastically. “starring leonardo di caprio!” 

“who now?”

“he’s the guy who didn’t win an oscar for years until the bear movie,” suna explained.

“ooooohhh.” 

“you uncultured shits,” aran sighed. “anyway, atsumu, just accept your fate--” 

“that’s what i’ve been trying to tell him!” 

“... and open your eyes to how awesome it is to play romeo!” aran finished. atsumu looked from the DVD in his friend’s hands, to suna on his bed, and to the bag of convenience store snacks, before sighing and nodding.

“if i decide it’s shit ten minutes in, we’re dropping the movie and yer all gonna tell me i’m right.” 

but he was wrong, oh so wrong. 

just like every middle-aged mom or english literature university student who watched Romeo + Juliet, atsumu was pulled in by leonardo di caprio’s sincere, expressive eyes. he practically swooned at the scene where romeo and juliet met from different sides of the fish tank to that iconic pool kiss, and by the end of the movie, atsumu almost teared up. he tried to hold back his emotions, in the hopes of not looking lame in front of his friends, only to find aran practically sobbing and suna clutching his knees to his chest.

“that was... really fucking beautiful,” atsumu cursed as the credits rolled.

“do you understand now? what it means to play romeo?” aran put a hand on his shoulder.

“do it for leo di caprio, atsumu,” suna added. atsumu sniffed and nodded his head eagerly.

“i will, i’ll do it for leo.”

...

it was a normal day at school, if normal meant you were wearing a blanket wrapped around your waist to make you ‘feel as if you were in costume’ and mixing vending machine coffee and vending machine chocolate milk in styrofoam cups with your best friend who also happened to be the guy you were in love with. that was as normal as thing got when you were best friends with the miya twins.

and that only meant that seeing atsumu come in for rehearsals, with a determined spark in his eyes, and recite every line to utter perfection that you knew william shakespeare himself would be proud of, was just pushing the boundaries of ‘normal.’

that only meant you had to be on your A-game too and before you knew it, you and atsumu had put on your best performance yet. your undying competitiveness and atsumu’s devotion to leonardo di caprio had gone a long way. all throughout that, osamu had a ‘cat-who-just-ate-the-canary’ smile on his face as he watched from the props area.

“you look like you’re going to say ‘all according to keikaku’ at any time,” suna observed. 

“oh, i am saying it in my head,” osamu said, watching you and atsumu onstage. he had hoped for two outcomes: either you were both comically terrible at the play, or that you were slightly mediocre. but a part in his mind knew you would find a way to surprise him. you always did, after all.

yours and atsumu’s performance got everybody in class even more motivated about the play. osamu ended up in a million meetings with the fellow set designers, even learning how to paint trees to look as life-like as possible. although being busy wasn’t enough to distract him from looking at you, especially when dress rehearsals began and you were wearing the most stunning dress that the costume department worked on. meanwhile, atsumu pretty much rehearsed, ate, and slept with his prop sword. 

finally, the big day of the cultural festival came around. despite the fact that you utterly loathed having to play juliet at first, you couldn’t help but feel proud at how far you’ve come. 

“hey, maybe i should just go to acting school or something,” you joked, sitting beside osamu and smoothing your dress over your legs which dangled over the side of the stage.

“you’ll run home crying after you hear any sort of criticism,” osamu snorted.

“mean! i deal with criticism really well!” you pouted. osamu raised an eyebrow at you and you rolled your eyes. “you know i was joking. the fact that i haven’t received any acceptance letters from the universities i applied to is kind of making me crazy.” 

“so, is the fact that you’re playing a fourteen year-old girl who has to hide her love from her entire family before later killing herself a good way of escaping?” osamu asked.

“yeah, that and watching atsumu’s surprising transformation,” you snickered, turning around to watch atsumu and suna horsing around onstage. or rather, it was just suna from one end of the stage tossing chocolate chips at atsumu who was attempting to catch them with his mouth. 

“i asked suna and aran about what changed but their lips are tightly sealed,” osamu shrugged. “i like to think that he hit his head somewhere.” 

“well, he’s going to hit his head some time during the day at the rate he’s going right now,” you said, watching atsumu laugh and choke at the chocolate in his mouth. it was funny at first, until you noticed that atsumu kept on coughing.

“osamu,” you quickly tapped his twin. osamu turned around and immediately rushed over to his brother who was now turning a bright shade of red. 

“oh my god, were there peanuts in that chocolate?” you asked. atsumu let out a gasp and nodded his head.

“i’ll go get his meds,” osamu quickly jogged off only to be replaced by a very concerned Mr. President. “someone get him some water!” 

“i never thought atsumu-san was allergic to nuts. is it serious?” he asked, handing you his water bottle which you opened and quickly gave to atsumu who was now sitting down on the floor.

“well, it’s mostly rashes and an itchy throat but as long as he takes his medicine, he’ll be fine,” you shook your head. 

two allergy tablets, an apology from suna, and a long explanation later, atsumu was lying down in the nurse’s office with the swelling noticeably reduced. “unfortunately, he’d have to sit out the rest of the play so that the reaction completely subsides,” the nurse told you, osamu, and Mr. President. you sighed and regarded atsumu with hands on your hips.

“you thought they were chocolate-covered raisins, didn’t you?”

atsumu didn’t say anything except: “i’m sorry leo di caprio.”

“this is the absolute worst time for this to happen,” Mr. President sighed as he addressed your classmates backstage. “there’s only thirty minutes before showtime and our romeo is out of commission. anyone have any bright ideas?”

“does anyone else here vaguely know atsumu’s lines?” you asked around. “someone who read the script?” instead, you were met with silence. as much as you wanted for some miracle to happen and for the show to go on because you genuinely did want to play juliet, putting up a half-assed play with one of the two main characters gone wasn’t going to look good either.

you sucked in a deep breath, preparing yourself to make the call, but osamu, who had noticed your expression earlier, stepped forward. you looked at him with wide eyes and just caught him glance at you before addressing mr. president.

“i can step in for romeo.” 

“osamu...?” you asked. 

“i haven’t really read the script but i’ve heard atsumu rehearsing by himself often enough to pick up a few lines,” osamu rubbed the back of his head, already feeling nervous. 

“also, twin-sense,” suna piped up. “you know, your psychic connection between twins?”

osamu nodded his head slowly. “yes, that too.”

“alright, alright,” mr. president nodded his head. “well, i guess that’s better than nothing and osamu can fit into atsumu’s costume too. if you can, use these thirty minutes to read as much of the script as possible.” 

“got it,” osamu nodded. and with that, everyone resumed preparations and you were pulled into the dressing room to get your hair and make-up done. when you emerged, osamu was sitting on the floor against the far side of the backstage, bent over a copy of the script and muttering in concentration.

“hey,” you greeted, sitting down beside him. he was already dressed in his costume: a white, long-sleeved shirt with golden buttons and some tassels on the shoulders. his hair was also combed back with a few strands falling across his forehead.

“god, i can’t believe atsumu memorized all this shit,” osamu shook his head and looked up at you only to stop short. he had seen you about a million times in your juliet costume but with the make-up and your hair arranged so elegantly, you looked absolutely breath-taking.

“something wrong?”

“i... i’m just panicking about having to play romeo all of a sudden,” he blinked.

“i know. scary, isn’t it?” you nodded. “i... you didn’t have to though. i’m pretty sure everyone was ready to throw in the towel.” 

“and waste all my hard work painting sets?” osamu raised an eyebrow at you. “no way.” you tossed your head back and laughed.

“well, if you put it that way...” you nodded and smiled bravely. “the show will be fine. if you forget a line, just improvise. the most important thing is channeling the emotion.” 

“i think i can do that,” osamu smiled and reached a hand out to you. “to the best show ever?”

you grinned and shook his hand. “to the best show ever.”

...

the show was a complete disaster. as much as osamu did try to recite atsumu’s lines completely from memory, it was as if everyone was thrown off their game throughout the entire play. cues for special effects were forgotten (someone accidentally turned on a smoke machine during the first scene), props were misplaced (the actor for Tybalt was using a footlong hotdog against osamu’s prop sword), and there were more than a few times when someone missed their lines. at one point, you ended up reciting Team Rocket’s iconic spiel after the line ‘a rose by any other name is just as sweet.’ but, despite everything being a shitshow, it still ended up being overall entertaining. the audience laughed through most of the obvious fails and that caused the actors to loosen up just a bit. 

and it was osamu who ended up spearheading the comedic aspect of your ‘romeo and juliet’ play. from his dry, deadpan delivery of the very emotional lines, to his small inserts and side-comments about the play itself. you even had to stop yourself from laughing at times. but if you and atsumu were amazing at playing the scripted ‘romeo and juliet’, you and osamu were complete naturals when it came to improvising. 

“i don’t know if this is a success by conventional definitions,” Mr. President addressed everyone backstage as soon as the play was over. “but... we sure did make everyone out there laugh.” 

“and i consider that a win!” atsumu cheered beside you. he was looking much better, still with a bit of rashes though and his voice kind of heavy from the medicine. “kind of sad that i didn’t get to play romeo though,” he whispered at you.

“that’s alright. i channeled you in spirit,” osamu patted his twin’s shoulder.

“like hell ya did! i couldn’t believe ya used the dagger to kill yerself at the end,” atsumu argued.

“right?? i had to be all ‘oh romeo, you must have forgotten to use the poison you brought in your pocket!’” you recalled.

“i see dagger, i use dagger,” osamu reasoned. “wait, that’s ‘Macbeth’ isn’t it?”

“in a nutshell,” you shrugged.

“ugh, i’ve had enough of nuts for a day, don’t even mention it,” atsumu groaned, pushing away from the two of you and wandering off to the snack table that your classmates prepared.

“damn, i had more puns up my sleeve,” you sighed, watching him leave. 

��you’ll find a time to use them, don’t worry,” osamu reassured you. “in the meantime... do you want to, get out of here first? explore the rest of the cultural festival?” you felt your face flush but nodded nonetheless.

“i’m sure no one will notice the main characters of their cast go missing,” you grinned. “let’s get out of here, romeo.” 

when osamu meant ‘let’s check out the cultural festival’, he really meant buying a bunch of snacks from the stalls set up all around the school. but then again, that’s what he did all the time. soon enough, the two of you were sitting on the rooftop with your prized horde. 

“thank god i don’t have some weirdass nut allergy like tsumu. that’s definitely evidence that i got the stronger genes,” osamu said, biting into a crepe he just bought. “also the fact that he didn’t check that chocolate-covered nuts packet.” 

“i still feel sorry for him. he worked really hard to play romeo well,” you sighed. 

“hey, i tried to play my part seriously. well... sometimes.” 

“you did nail the whole ‘yearning for my love juliet’ part right,” you grinned, remembering the surprise at seeing the tenderness and longing on osamu’s face as he recited romeo’s lines about being in love with juliet. ‘well, that’s something for me to daydream about for the rest of my life you,’ you thought.

that was until osamu said “well, it’s good practice for when i actually confess to someone.” 

confess to someone.

‘does that mean, all this time? he’s liked someone?’ you felt your stomach drop. you’ve never known osamu to be expressive when it came to people he had feelings for. were you just ignoring all the signs? was--

“it’s you, idiot,” osamu sighed. 

“wait, what?” you looked at him with wide eyes. osamu sighed again and ran a hand through his hair.

“you know, i was thinking of a more suave way to say this but you looked like how you did earlier when you were supposed to be engaged to tybalt,” he chuckled. “so, i put two and two together for the first time. you’re the one i like, y/n.”

it was the moment you’ve been waiting for for so long, and yet the only thing you could come up with was “haha, cool.” 

in response, osamu stared at you long and hard before taking another bite out of his crepe. “i think your brain is fried,” he muttered through a mouthful of crepe.”

“hold on, hold on,” you held a finger up, finally coming back to your senses. “you had a crush on me and also the audacity to make me juliet and have your twin brother as romeo?”

“i thought you’d be really cool as juliet but i didn’t want to go through the work of being romeo,” osamu said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “obviously it backfired but--”

“that’s called karma, osamu,” you pointed an accusing finger at him. “if you think i’m going to let you off easy i’m--” 

you were cut off by osamu’s lips meeting yours and the taste of whipped cream and strawberry on your tongue. your brain short-circuited, trying to think of a way to describe this situation other than ‘haha, cool’ again. osamu, sensing your brain waves, pulled you even closer with a hand on your cheek.

“are you going to let me off now?” he raised an eyebrow at you after you parted. you smirked.

“i’ll have to think about it.” 

“yeah?” osamu mumbled, his smirk matching yours. “what else do i need to do?” you leaned forward before taking a bite out of the crepe in his hands. you chewed while grinning at the surprised look on osamu’s face.

“now we’re even.”

taglist (still open to anyone who wants in!): @montys-chaos​ @miyumtwins​ @strawberriimilkshake​ @pocubo​ @sugawara-sweetheart@akaashisbabydoll @laure-chan@therainroguefanfiction@atetiffdoesart@stephdaninja@oikaw-ugh@charliefredb@dramaqueenweeb1469@tremblinghearts@applepienation@doodleniella @haikyuu-my-love

[artsyxloner]

Not Just a Monster

Warning: blood, cussing

6: The vote

I stared at the boy Crouching down next to his limp body feeling his pulse, to check and see if he was still alive or not. He most likely was but I felt a smooth regular beat.

I stared at him strangely knowing that fall should have killed him. Getting ready to pick him up and drag the boy out of here I was stopped by two people coming down the stairs.

It was a man and a young girl, he had a sword with a shield and the girl with pink Streaks in her hair was holding a bat and a guitar case.

" was he with you guys?" I asked not sure. They both nodded, it seemed they were out of breath telling by how they were huffing and puffing.

They gathered around him, " is he dead the girl that had screamed asked. I shook my head. " No he's still alive, I checked." She Gave me a confused stare. " how?"

I was getting ready to answer until the Man with the samurai sword beat me to it. " he's infected, he won't die." He told her short and simple.

He's infected his words Kept repeating in my head he won't die. He was like me I thought as we all picked him up and dragged him in the front room and was met by the guy in round glasses.

He kept looking at someone I noticed it was the girl that screamed. " Eun-yoo, are you okay?" He asked her, they must know one another. But she Ignored him walking away with her bag in hand.

They must be brother and sister, " what's wrong with him?" He asked staring at the unconscious teenage boy. " Fell," I informed leaving the infected part out because if everyone knew they would just throw him out.

I didn't care but at the same time it's not right. " he dead?" I shook my head. " but infected." The girl spoke up with the pink hair.

" take him into one of those rooms and we'll figure out what to do with him. You are the survivors right?"

" Yeah, there's more up at one of the apartments still. You're the man guy from the speaker right?" The boy with round glasses nodded.

" yes, I'm Eun-Hyuk." After our introductions, we placed the boy in one of the rooms that looked like a hang-out space. Laying him on one of the mattresses they had stored in here everyone left except me.

Eun-hyuk put me In charge of watching over him. In the meantime, I had put up his Electrically Charged Speer that looked like it was made from an end of a broomstick and a Kitchen knife and wires wrapped around it with duck tape.

The boy I didn't know the name of was still passed out, he had blood coming put from the back of his head I could tell because it was making his longish dark hair all wet and stuck together plus it was dripping on the mattress.

Taking out my duffle bag I had someone bring me. I think her name was Ji-Soo I grabbed my medical supplies that consist of antibiotics, Ointment cream and bandages, and antiBacterial wipes.

I had stolen from someone's car since his back was facing me laying on his side I took out my wipes cleaning the back of his head adding a little pressure to stop the bleeding it soon did after a minute or two. Then putting a huge thick pad and Securing it with medical tape.

I checked for more wounds and found some right near the edge of his neck and collarbone were too long Gashes. I repeated what I did with the wipes making sure it was all clean and put two huge bandaids on them.

I didn't know why I did know he was going to heal it just I don't like seeing opening wounds. Throwing the plastic paper and blood-stained wipes away.

The boy moved in his sleep like he was having a bad dream. His head kept turning, he was probably going to wake up going over to him he, shot up which I jump back a bit.

He was breathing hard as he looked around to see where he was. " those were some nasty wounds you got there." I pointed, he Ignored my statement.

" where am I?" He asked, his voice hoarse. " beats me I just got here not long ago, I think it a place where people like to hang?" I shrugged.

" and the other two?" He asked worry was in his voice. I smiled down at him. " they're okay, they were worried for you though." I informed him, he signed in relief. " you know you should worry about yourself," I pointed again to his wounds he seemed to notice and felt his neck.

" I bandaged you up but I shouldn't of bothered because you would heal soon. it's whatever." I then searched in my duffel bag for something, finding it I gave it to the boy.

It was a bottle of water, he looked at me then the water as if I did something to it. " don't worry I didn't poison it." I Insisted screwing the cap off taking a sip. " there if I die You'll know." I laughed.

He just nodded taking it, chugging it down. He must have been real thirsty? " you shouldn't be around me I'm infected." He blurted out, setting the empty bottle of water down.

" so? We'll all get infected one way or another." I sat down next to him, " plus, if I did have it there no use in fussing right it's not contagious." He was quiet but gave a Single nod.

" so how long?" I asked wanting to know how long he's been holding out. But got stopped by Eun-Hyuk. "Soo-Nico, we need you in the day-care-center." He notified, I nodded wondering what they need me for?

" where is that?" I asked, just follow the group they will know." Getting up from the Mattress I said my byes to the boy, that I still didn't know the name of.

I followed some girls going into the day-care-center. Everyone was talking Among themselves but then saw me and got quiet. The grumpy old man kept eyeing me sending me death glares.

He got up from his seat as I leaned back on the door frame folding my arms. I wonder what this was all about? " it's her and that boy there both monsters!" The old man said out of the blue, but the Woman with the Pomeranian spoke up.

" How can you be so sure she's one? She didn't give off any signs?!" She fussed, backing me up when she didn't even know me. I was going to give the Wrinkly old bat an earful.

" shut up Hye-in!" he yelled at her then turned the two people that walked into the room it was Eun-Hyuk and the teenage boy. "You're all out of your minds you brought monsters in here!"

"Monsters?" Eun-Hyuk Emphasizes the word as if meaning more than one. " you know him and that bitch!" The old man turned towards me.

He brought out a yellow box cutter knife and pushed the blade up near my neck and to the boys. " don't you guys dare turn!" If he thought I was scared of his short ass he was Gladly mistaken.

" got it you crazy monsters!" I rolled my eyes, this seemed to anger him. " I'll cut your throat myself you fat cow!" He stood there pointing it more at me in Particular.

Hence the name-calling was that Necessary, wonder what I did to piss off the shorty? " leave her alone." A voice broke out it was Eun-Hyuk

This made the man turn to him, " pardon?" Eun-Hyuk stood his ground, " there was no indication of her being a monster, Suk-Hyun." So that's what his name was.

" but she came in from the back, and was covered all in blood and ash, she must have come from the outside?!"Suk-Hyun protested. " that could have been anything she could have fought the monsters and got blood all over her?" Eun-Hyuk Suggested, he was partly right.

" I'm not going to throw her out bast on Opinion." That was the last thing he said before he left. Taking Suk-Hyun with him. I was glad to take a seat in a chair.

Playing with my torn-up sweater, " you okay?" The teenage Boy asked I nodded. " are you from outside?" I stopped at what I was doing. And looked up at him.

" if I was is that okay?" I said with a question, his eyes peered down at the floor. " tell me will it make a difference? As I said anyone could get infected inside or out you just have to wait your turn." I Snickered, at this bullshit.

" name?"

" huh?"

" what's your name? so I don't have to keep referring you to a teenage boy," I stated. He must have been shy because it took a few for him to answer. He seemed Awkward.

" Hyun-Su,"

I made sure to remember his name, but it was like nothing special to me at the given moment. " what do you think they're doing in there?"

Hyun-Su shrugged, " we'll I'm going to go check, they said they needed me, you coming?" Hyun-Su shook his head, " Okay, suit yourself." I walked into the other room.

To see what the Commotion was about probably about me and Hyun-Su because Suk-Hyun was standing in the middle running his mouth as usual.

Everyone was all gathered up, while Eun-Hyuk was standing in front of a Chalkboard, writing on it. Turning around he declared " eight of us voted yes, seven of us voted no...if one of the two last votes are in favor he'll be kicked out."

I frowned so they were voting if he got to stay or not? if they found out about me I would be judged if I wasn't already. " seven people Opposed? Are you all crazy?" Suk-Hyun scowled.

" opposed, eight to eight." Eun-Hyuk Announced, " damn it!" The old man cursed under his breath then noticed me. " you aren't supposed to be in here?!"

I Scoffed, eyeing him up and down.

" why still think I'm a monster?" I raised an eyebrow and passed him bumping his shoulder for the second time. " Fuck Bastards like you." I smiled This Earned a snicker from Eun-Yoo.

" anyways does my vote count? Because I should get a say so? I mean he should at least get a chance right? he's still human." I went up to the table to cast my ballot.

Seeing the others X meant to stay and O meant go casting my vote I put it in the Slot. You can pretty sure guess what I picked. " I bet you picked opposed didn't you little bitch!"

Suk-Hyun Cursed me, for the second time today. " don't get to worked yet, up the last vote will determine the results?"

Eun-Hyuk stuck his hand in the slot and picked out a yellow Piece of Sticky note. I would be lying if I didn't say I was worried for the last vote because if it's would be like taking in murder if he got expelled.

Pulling it out he stared at it then flip-it over, " Opposed," I let out a breath and smirked seeing the look on Suk-Hyun face. He Snatched the piece of sticky note from Eun-Hyuk not believing it.

" No way!" He grumbled Turing to a guy in the back. " hey? Hey! Bring that bastard here!" The guy in white pointed to himself. " you mean me?"

" yeah! We have to get rid of him!" Suk-Hyun demanded as the guy seemed hesitant at first in going. " voting my ass!" Suk-Hyun sneered and threw the papers my way.

" I bet it was your vote? Huh did you forget someone just died!?" He got I'm my face. " are you against the result?" I questioned this seemed to make him blow up like I hit a fuse.

"What did you say? Your just a kid you don't know squat! Murder is killing a human being not killing a giant fucking monster!" Suk-Hyun snapped.

And pushed me down to the floor, everyone gasped backing away, I clenched my teeth together ready to attack the son of a bitch for putting his hands on me when I hearing a dripping sound.

I saw it was Suk-Hyun his nose was now pouring blood. I was glad this happened he Deserves it from being so selfish and greedy from what I've noticed. The tables have turned and they better stay that way.

His wife began to cry I don't know why she is though he's mean to her. He began to make his way over to the group of people but they backed away saying stuff like don't come near.

But his excuse was he was just tired, you don't get a nosebleed from being tired. He held his nose as his shirt was getting covered in his blood.

He tried to walk out of the room but was stopped by Hyun-Su, he took a glance at me then back at Suk-Hyun. " you better Brace yourself."

" what?" Suk-Hyun eyes went wide with fear. " The monsters are coming for you." Hyun-Su warned. " you son of a bitch!"

But he just passed him and bent down picking up the sticky note that had an o on it. " can I cast my vote?" He was about to throw it in but stopped. " if I put this in, he'll be thrown out too, right?"

I saw Hyun-Su's eyes go black, " Am I right?" Suk-Hyun didn't say anything but whimper staring at the boy before him as blood continued to run down his nose. But he eventually passed out.

[rksakura]

🔊: run it ( 1:10~2:49 ) performed by 💖 sakura miyawaki! trigger warnings: some anxiety. mentions: @yuzurk, @rkxkikwang, @rkgray, @yienrk, @rkchoutzuyu, @rkmason, @hyojinrk, @rkyq

sakura likes to start with the good news first, she’s got the call back to make it past the first round. she’s stepped up in another territory, one she thought she wouldn’t come far to at first but she was proven wrong. she shouldn’t be storing disbelief to herself, but fill up with much more confidence if she wants to push through the battle. that’s the hard part though is being separated from some of her friends like tzuyu and kikwang. she didn’t cope up with letting go quite well as shown in her past mannerisms. she wishes that they could be on the same stage as her performing but sometimes, life doesn’t always work that way.

lies didn’t align with the australian gal, she wasn’t one to display her anxiety that’s written all over but she’s practised generating the proper facial expressions when up on the stage. it seems silly but body language was essential when performing on the stage. she couldn’t just be another body count, sakura’s made them believe that she was a vocalist at the start but offered a different dish on the table with some rapping fire! in fact, she was more of a rapper than a high-note belting singer ( she wasn’t at that peak at all ). so she spends most of her days, other than tending to the aquarium and her daily dose of school, she was working on what song she should perform next.

when it comes to rapping in front of a huge stage and the whole world watching then she best prepares to give it all she’s got. most importantly, keep up the same energy and flow when on the stage! she couldn’t break the chain of the words she’s about to memorise, sakura ran trial through the verses a couple of times and tried out styles that complimented her vocal mixture with rapping and how the instrumental went. that’s how her nights pass by until the bright lights and cameras are flashing all over the area. she’s not coming up first in the short line of female rappers, sakura was one of the few last as her last name started with an m. thank god for now, it serves as a good excuse pass but she shouldn’t rely on that too much.

she has to break the bad habits of letting anxiousness overwhelm her, she can’t deliver that on the stage when she’s meant to perform a rap that’s the polar opposite of her physical epitome and markings! sakura wants to break the poor judgments about her, being called too soft and cute to even rap. the only way that she can cut through is by continuing what she loved to do. the assignment, from what she’s been told is to showcase an ( ultimately, dominant ) skillset. sakura’s prepared her resources efficiently. she’s ( somewhat ) ready for the big day!

since facial recognition serves with influences on votes, she can’t look dead. she rises from her bed with a decent amount of energy but it isn’t enough to deliver a good verse. once she sips down her green tea, it’ll wake her up eventually. she doesn’t consume a huge meal in the morning as it takes some energy to muster eating a great portion but she’s good with a blueberry muffin and her everyday tea. it’s time to at least look like a presentable human being, sakura needs to cover her dark circles that are formed over the past few nights as she’s become obsessed with her work. she puts on some bb cream and concealer to cover it, lip gloss at the shade of light pink, natural to her colour. with her choice of attire, she fits something that’s comfortable with the weather today, a light blue denim skirt and some high ankle socks, her top was an off-shoulder pastel purple blouse that was tucked in her denim skirt. she’s wearing a pair of sneakers which won’t be too hard on her feet standing all day in long queues. when she leaves her house, it’s taking the commute down the building! she shoves her earphones gently in her ears and makes it to her desired destination.

after some time, she’s reached the grounds and greets some of the familiar faces she’s spotting right off the bat. hyojin makes her days better when it comes to this setting, sometimes it’s unsettling but she escapes that torment of anxiety when she sees his gorgeous smile. mason’s also there, she greets the older brother figure and stops by for a brief hug ( his presence was surely enlightening as she’s known him for like forever ) before she turns her direction elsewhere then catches yuqi, a fellow rapper and one she doesn’t intend to make an enemy out of. despite the mnet global auditions being regarded as a highly competitive stake, she’s still able to manage the joy she finds in her friends. she’ll never toss anyone over a reality television show. she can only show support and that’s about it!

hope for the best, after all? she pulls yena into a reassuring hug prior to walking out on the stage, the music playing as sakura makes her presence known. “hi guys! sakura again here and today, i’ll be showing you guys something else!” she puts up two fingers, showing off a ‘peace’ sign, winking and holds the mic tightly closer to her mouth to start spitting out her lines. the instrumental plays, she’s rapping over the beat.

ya hold up 구름다리 굴러가듯 무음 걸어 뭐든 힘든 거니까 라고 말한 무책임 성공가는 계속 들어 백기 들어 백길 언제 들어 걸어 야 뺏긴 후에 안 뺏길 걸 ya i know it big boy 얘 앞길에서 비켜 ya i know it big boy 니 이마에 비췄어 뒤쳐 지기도 지쳐서 너는 노를 저었지 각을 재기 전에 각을 잡았지 make it boogie make it boogie switch move it make a movie

the beat was moving at a much faster pace, one that’s at a higher tempo than she usually raps to but she’s learned to adjust to this kind of technique. it’s all about breath control which she’s learned a trick or two from her choir classes. she’s jumping up on the stage, smiling but with a serious expression on her face as she couldn’t be overflowing with aegyo with this kind of theme. sakura has to communicate with her charisma she’s been taught by her mentors, gray. other influences like yien and luna keep her up to become a strong rapper. she only takes a slight break but then hits it back with another verse!

일동 홀렸지 백문이 불여일견 보기 전에 부정이 널 가로막으니까 넌 그걸 부숴 두벌식의 키보드가 만든 편견 check it 누구에겐 폭력이지 쳇바퀴만 도는 하루 어때 너넨 이게 제 자리로 보이니 잿밥에만 고이는 쟤 침이 못 이긴 땀이 너를 바꾸지

she’s led to the path of a singer for a couple of seconds but it’s a nice switch, smooth and the transition clean with her soft vocals complementing the track. before she hits the notes, sakura pulls the microphone away and releases a breath and pulls her control back together. the singing isn’t going to overshadow any of her rap, hopefully. she’s got some of her australian colours unveiling, the english part covered easily.

baby oh the world is yours i'll give it to you can you hear me tell me oh your visions you make them come true you know we run it run it

we run it yah 챙길 건 챙겨 너를 위해 we run it yah 지금부터는 너의 시대 we run it 정상을 향해 boy where we at i just do it i just do it i just do it i just do it

it seems that the last few verses are much easier than the opening, she seems to catch her breath control easier when it comes to this time. she’s not getting all tongue-twisted with the korean lyrics, she’s able to enunciate it correctly along with the occasional english. she isn’t afraid to show any of her foreigner roots off, sakura lets her australian accent emphasize on her rap when it’s switching over to english. it makes it a unique attribute and kind of a signature mark as there weren’t many female australian rappers in south korea.

chasing dreams i got the feel 멈출 순 없어 i love the thrill i'm a beast i got to kill 두렵지 않아 i got the will 내 꿈을 향해 달리고 포기 따윈 없어 never no grind it out just lose control when it all falls down it's dominos you know i'll get up and try again i can see the light again 날개를 펴고 fly again winning is my vitamin yeah run this game i just get it once i got it i don't lose it grinding through these bumps and bruises i'm the best and i just proved it

she wants to end the day with nothing but good vibes. but the last few lines take her back to when her hopeful friends dreams are shattered due to the process of elimination but she’ll strive and fight on for them. sakura can put her name out there on stage and not just be another cute face. once the song ends, the lights dim out and then the light’s on sakura once more and all she can do is smile, “thank you guys for your time! thank you for your support and please support my friends!” she still wants to share generosity by involving the ones she cares for. before she takes the exit door, she bows to the judges and other contestants politely. “have a good day everyone!” the cuteness aura catches up to her, for sakura it’s something she can’t avoid.

[thingr1]

Focus on the Fallout (2/2)

Rating: T

Warnings: Depression, suicidal thoughts, past suicide attempt.

Characters: Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson, basically entire Batfam.

Preview: *See first chapter*

Cross posted: FFN and AO3 (6-16-17). (A/N found on both sites)

Prequels: Of Milkshakes and Marathons (recommended, but not necessary) and Weighing One’s Worth (essential to understanding story.)

First Chapter: Here

It wasn't hard to tell that something was wrong.

The family—this dysfunctional, emotionally constipated family—was acting strange. More distant than normal.

Whispered conversations that ended the moment Tim crossed the threshold. Flashes of emotion caught by the corners of his eyes every time Tim glanced away. Shadows of footprints outside the door of whatever room Tim happened to be slouched in. Flutters of movement and spots of color (black, blue, red) in the darkness, tailing him as he patrolled.

That had been Tim’s reality for the past two weeks.

Everyone trying to pretend everything was normal, yet side eying Tim like something fragile, something broken, when they thought he was looking the other way.

There was only one possible explanation for this collectively strange behavior.

They knew. Every single one. And if it wasn't for the fact that he was probably (definitely) under tight surveillance at the moment, he would seriously consider another bullet to his brain from shame. Maybe jump off the roof. That is, if embarrassment itself didn't beat him to the punch.

Sinking back against the mattress of his too-big bed, Tim sighed to the blank white ceiling.

Why? Dick's big mouth... Just, why?

Tim knew Dick was only trying to help. But the thing was, they weren't Dick's secrets to share. Heck, even Damian betrayed him in the end—to the loosest jaw of the Wayne bunch, no less—when push came to shove. Which…actually wasn’t that surprising.

He felt like he was walking on eggshells. Like an outsider—no, a pretender in his own home. As if he'd ever really called Wayne Manor his home in the first place...

Tim hated feeling this exposed, baring his soul to the world. This was going to come back to bite him, someone was going to take advantage of him all over again. And Tim didn’t think he could take it.

Because at the heart of it all, that was his problem, wasn’t it? Whenever he let anyone in, they either died or threw him away; in each sense, they betrayed him. And he was so so tired of it all. Which was a much more selfish admission than he usually allowed himself. (Then again, Tim had tried to kill himself a week ago, which kind of took the cake.)

But yet…at the same time…why did it feel like a huge weight had been taken off his shoulders? He shouldn’t be this relieved to have just unloaded his truckload of problems onto Dick Grayson’s shoulders.

Dick Grayson.

Who had taken Robin from him without even asking. Who had, how many years later, apologized for it. Had stopped pretending that everything between them was right as rain and outright admitted he was in the wrong.

It was mortifying.

Tim had failed somewhere. He had to’ve.

It probably had something to do with the fact he’d tried to off himself in the middle of the Manor, the one place where all the Bats could come and go as they pleased. The one place where there were eyes everywhere. It was careless of Tim to even think of attempting what he had in such a public place.

Unless…

Had…had he wanted someone to find him? Maybe…maybe that was why…

Tim shook his head violently, turning his face into his pillow in embarrassment.

No. He wasn’t going to psychoanalyze himself now. He’d tried to kill himself. It didn’t take. Now it was just a question of moving on.

…Which would have been so much simpler if his family’s actions didn’t make it that much more impossible to compartmentalize the self-destructive feelings back into a deep, dark corner of Tim’s mind that life usually kept him too busy to explore.

And yet, Tim couldn’t help the faint glow of hope that was slowly eating away at the darkness in his core. Maybe…maybe this time Dick would come through. Maybe this time would be different; maybe they could heal. If only that feeling wasn’t so often crushed by the realities of life. Then maybe Tim could bear to give it a chance.

No, he decided. Better to forget. Better to forget than to give his family the opportunity to screw up enough so Tim would have to juggle forgiving them (again) on top of it all, too. He’d figure this out on his own. Like he always did.

Without warning, his door slammed back on its hinges.

Tim’s skin prickled, muscles seizing, panic shredding through every inch of his flesh in the form of adrenaline as he whirled, wild-eyed, to face the intruder.

Damian stood in the doorway, arms crossed over he chest, giving Tim a strange sense of déjà vu.

"Your presence is required downstairs, Drake,” the child reported, pompous as always.

Tim glared. (Internal terror revealing itself in a rather Jason Todd style: Anger.) “For what? An interrogation?”

Damian snorted. "Nothing so crude. It is…” The boy’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “‘Family Bonding,’ Grayson is calling it. Everyone is required to attend.”

"And why should I trust you?” The words spilled out before Tim could stop them.

The former assassin’s eyes narrowed. Assessing.

After a moment, Damian’s jaw set, cobalt eyes almost glaring in their intensity. "I swear to you that no one is judging you for your moment of weakness. In fact, if I see so much as a pitying glance, I will mash that person’s nose into their face myself. Just…come downstairs. Please.”

Which was…actually half-decent as far as politeness went for the demon child.

Tim…hesitated. A trap. It had to be… No.

Those eyes so like his father’s screamed sincerity, even though Damian’s features remained studiously blank. Though he was many things, Damian Wayne was not a liar. Something Tim both hated and respected about the fifth Robin.

And after…that night…something between the two of them had changed. For the first time since they’d met, they understood each other; they’d caught a glimpse of who they were behind the masks and facades. Their insecurities exposed to the person they hated most.

It was…freeing somehow.

(Dick had always told him that all Damian wanted was acceptance; and for the first time, Tim might just believe it.)

No. Damian wouldn’t betray him like this. (Not again, anyway.) The others, on the other hand…

“Promise?” The word slipped out before Tim could stop it; small. Shaky. Weak.

Damian inclined his head. “You have my word.” Solemn. Straightforward. (So unlike his father.)

Tim sucked in a breath. Bit his lip. Squared his shoulders. “Fine.”

He was going to regret this.

The journey downstairs seemed to pass far too quickly. And yet, at the same time, it stretched long enough that Tim had far too much time to think.

Tim couldn't...shouldn't...didn't want to face his family. Didn’t want to see the looks on their faces at the realization that their toy soldier was broken; unusable.

…Was he broken? Wasn’t that the question of a lifetime. One that Tim really didn’t care to answer; now, or ever.

Moving on.

(Why’d he even bother with a gun? His own brain was going to be the death of him.)

With a blink, Tim jerked back into reality as Damian slid into the lit doorway on the right of the hallway that Tim recognized as the living room without looking back. Clearly expecting Tim to follow.

Tim sucked in a breath. No. Don’t think about it.

Do this. He could do this.

Breath huffing in an almost sigh, Tim stepped around the doorframe and…

Everyone was looking at him.

And when he said everyone, he meant everyone. Dick, Damian, Alfred, Barbara, Steph, Cass, Jason, Titus.

Bruce.

The whole gang was here.

And they were staring.

Heat barely had time to brush Tim’s cheeks before the whole room erupted.

“Timmy!”

“Tim.”

“So good of you to join us, Master Tim.”

“‘Bout time you got here, the popcorn’s almost cold!”

“Hey, mind breaking the tie for us? We’ve narrowed it down to Monsters Inc. or Frozen…”

“Frozen?! Who said Frozen? I voted Inside Out!”

Through the cacophony of sound, lights, and general confusion, Cass materialized at his side, squeezing him in a hug, whispering “Love you,” and guiding him through the mass of people, popcorn, soda cans, pillows (from the bedrooms?), and movie cases to the couch before Tim could fully process what was happening.

And then Jason was wedged on the cushion next to him, throwing an arm over his shoulders. “Come on, Baby Bird, help me out here. Inside Out or Frozen?”

Tim blinked. Still in shock. “Tangled.”

Jason scowled. “Wow. You’re helpful.” Then, serious, poking Tim none too gently in the ribs, he hissed: “Bullets have more calories than milkshakes, y'know. Talk about hard to work off."

Tim flushed, a combination anger and embarrassment snapping him from his reverie. “That bar was a one time thing, Jay! I swear, is this going to keep coming up in every conversation?"

Jason raised an eyebrow. “Just so long as I never catch you at it again.” Then, in a low mutter Tim almost had to strain to hear: ”Call someone next time you start feeling self-destructive, 'kay, Baby Bird? We’ve all been there. We can help.“

Tim ducked his head; mortified (touched). "O...okay. Yeah."

Jason slapped Tim's shoulder with his free hand, reeling him in so Tim’s face smashed into him in a…a hug. "Good. We're marathoning Harry Potter next."

And...Tim's lips quirked upward. "Haven't seen those in awhile."

"Exactly, Tim. Exactly."

Dick Grayson’s voice suddenly erupted in his ear, causing Tim to jump: “Tim! Timmy! You voted Frozen, right?”

Jason stared, stiffening under Tim’s weight. “So you’re the one.”

Dick’s eyes widened. “Uh. No?”

The second Robin growled, reverberating through his chest where Tim’s face was still half smushed. “What did I tell you about Frozen?”

Dick’s eyes twinkled with the mischievous light that always preceded a particularly self-endangering statement: “That I need to ‘let it go’?”

There was a moment of pure, icy silence. Two. Three.

Broken by a laugh.

A laugh.

From Tim’s own mouth.

Another burst from his mouth without his consent. Then another. Suddenly, Tim was gripping his sides, tears welling in his eyes, shaking from the force of his own laughter.

Everyone was staring at Tim again, this time in open surprise; joy, fondness, maybe mixed with some concern for his mental health.

And for once, Tim didn’t mind it. Still chuckling, he snagged the pillow from the couch arm and rammed it into the nearest face: Dick Grayson’s. “Stuff that in your big mouth, Dick!”

There was a pause.

Then a mad cackle rent the air as Jason Todd hefted another pillow over his head. “You deserved that, Dickie!” Slammed the stunned man’s face with the makeshift weapon so hard, the seams burst. Tim almost winced.

Almost.

“Pillow fight!” Steph screamed gleefully, swiping an ancient throw pillow and slinging it into Jason in the same instant as Damian slung a blanket into the man’s abdomen. “For Arendelle!”

The room devolved into chaos as the rest of the family joined in; pillows flying, blankets cracking like whips, popcorn scattering.

And as the feathers swirled in the air around them, laughter carrying them to the ceiling, Tim realized that maybe—just maybe—he could stand to call this crazy mess of a family (life) his own after all.

[riverdaleroundup]

Riverdale Roundup 20x21: “The Killing of A Sacred Deer”

So Riverdale was on last night. I confirmed did not watch. I couldn’t watch it on my tv and I was far too lazy to get a stream up so like here we are. I go into my PVR to watch it this morning and it’s like “ no information found” and i’m ready to fume but when I pressed on it it still played so it was just god playing a little funny on me. Anyway, when I went on the internet last night people were like shitting their pants about this episode so i’m expecting something good. I’ve got my tea. Lets go.

Apparently I forgot about every single thing that happened last episode because their little recap has me straight shook. Like Reggie shot fangs? In what world?

So the Black Hood rolls up at Cheryl's house fitting to kill her and I’m just down for that. I’ve recently decided to stan Cheryl. I love the villian with a heart of gold. Please see season 1-3 Alex Karev.

So the black hood is coming after Cheryl with a casual axe because he apparently misplaced his gun, and he hacks up her lovely bedroom door. Cheryl goes all hunger games and whips out her bow and arrow and shoots the guy. I mean she could have done us all a favour and killed the guy so we can all move on to greener pastures. Like they aren’t going to drag this shit into season 3 are they? I don’t need another pretty little liars 7 seasons of dealing it, A, or the A team, or charles or whatever that stupid show morphed into.

Cheryl is the most casual girl ever. She just calls up Betty and is like “ yeah so the black hood just tried to kill me and i’m going to go hunt him in the woods. Want to do brunch on saturday?”

So Reggie didn’t shoot Fangs. I mean I guess it makes sense. Reggie was on the ground and Fangs got shot in the stomach so that would have had to have been quite the angle.

Hiram Lodge is like giddy about this whole riot. It's like christmas morning for the little guy.

Betty is uber convinced that her Daddy is the black hood and is worried that someone is going to murder him since Hermione is offering up a casual million dollars for the blackhoods head on a platter, preferably silver. Preferably polished.

So Veronica sees Midges mom wandering on the streets looking coked out as fuck and plot twist she was the one who shot fangs. I mean she thought he murdered her daughter but I mean that evidence is so damn thin.

Reggie is hiding behind a dumpster because bitches are out for him. He calls Mr Lodge and is like “ Daddy help” but Hiram isn’t his daddy anymore. He’s got to deal with this ish on his own.

All the football players + Kevin are out looking for Reggie. They end up at the high school where Sweet Pea and his boys are fitting to burn the place to the ground. Seems a little extreme but SP is cute so I probs would have allowed it.

Principal weatherbee shows up with like a bat or something and is like “ What the fuck? All you skanks better leave rn or i’m flip.” Honestly it’s very Mean girls with the principal and and the bat and i’m honestly surprised he doesn’t send them all to the gym for a seminar on confidence. He will keep them there ALL NIGHT. He can’t keep them past four. He will keep them there till FOUR.

Eventually the gang finds Reggie at Pops and honestly no one should be surprised because there are only ever 3 places anyone could ever be in Riverdale. It’s shocking that Pop had to call Archie to tell him that Reggie was there. They had basically knocked every other possibility off the list.

Betty gets a call from an unknown number and she thinks it’s the black hood, but I mean come on. Her annoying ass ringtone didn’t go off so we all know that it wasn’t going to be BH. It’s FP calling from a pay phone being like  

“ My bitch ass little son is a slithery lil snakey snake and ran off. Is he with you? Also your dad is in the ER.”

Betty promptly gets shook because she knows that Cheryl shot the black hood with an arrow so if Hal is bleeding from the shoulder shit is about to go down.

A bunch of crazies roll up to pops and Archie is pissed that Jughead hasn’t reigned in all his little friends but get shook guys. It’s the Goolies or whatever they’re called. I honestly forgot about them. It seems like decades ago since everyone put on their favourite vintage outfits and went out to watch the street race.

So the football players are trying to barricade the shop and poor pop tate is triggered. The guy has been through enough. Wars. Riots.The whole thing. But he knows how to deal with this ish. They going to lite this place up.

The Goolies are ready to take some names but boom. The Sheriffs cruiser appears out of nowhere and the silver fox fires his gun into the air sending the goolies running.

Hot dads for the win. FP and Keller are everything. Fred is there too but everyone needs a duff.  I would like to make it clear that I audibly out loud said “ yas hot dads unite” before Kevin mentioned anything about the trio. Just want to put that out there.

Betty goes running to the hospital and into her dads room but oops get shook. Hal isn’t there, but Dr Mcstuffins is dead. Poor guy. Asked too many questions. Sounds like every single one of my relatives and neighbours.

The phone beside the hospital bed rings because the black hood just magically knows that Betty has arrived in the room, and he’s like “ listen bitch, it’s past your bedtime. Get your skinny ass home or ima kill your mom. Okay. see you in 10. Byyeeee”

Jughead is brooding at the bar when his phone rings. It’s freaking Alice Jr, Penny Peabody.

She’s all like “ Hey babe. Listen i’m still kind of pissed at you so I kidnapped your girlfriend and was thinking that i’m cut her up into little pieces if you don’t come meet me by the docks.”

Jughead is all like

“Omg no not Betty!”  but Penny is behind on the times and just has Toni. At this point Jughead is just like

“Lol sorry bitch. You’re barking up the wrong tree. Maybe call Cheryl.”

Betty comes home and Alice is just chillin on the couch, enjoying her evening. Betty is like

“ We gotta go right now.”  but Alice already has popcorn on because Hal is going to show them home movies.

So Hal’s real name is Harold? What’s sad is that I find that to be the most shocking part of this. So Hal's dad murdered the conway family because they were sinners? What did these bitches do? Not recycle? So Hal went up to lil janitor before he became big janitor and convinced him that it wasn’t Hals dad who killed the guys family but some rando.

So Pappi Cooper killed Papi blossom and became Pappi Cooper as a cover. Does not make sense to me but okay. I feel like someone would done their ancestry tree and put this ish together but whatever.

So the Conway family knew the truth about this shit and blackmailed the Coopers about it. So those bitches need to die.

Hal has darkness and Betty has got it too so watch out kids. Elizabeth might kill next. I mean she already sent Chic to his death ( maybe)

Hal is like “ say it Betty. Say it out loud” and she’s like “ a vampire” jk. He’s the black hood. BUT there’s another black hood. Are they working together or is this just some random hoe? TBD.

Oh heck BH 2 is attacking Archie! Thank God Fred was there to take the bitch down. BUT makes the fatal mistake of not unmasking the guy when he had the chance.  Fred gets shot AGAIN but thankfully ex Sheriff Hot pants gave him a bulletproof vest.

Alice and Betty are confused about why Hal is telling them all this and why he wants it recorded, and he’s like

“So everyone will understand when we’re gone, or what happened to us” or some bullshit like that. I don’t remember the exact words but it was very menacing. So like is he thinking a double murder suicide type thing or? That’s the vibe i’m getting tbh.

Jughead shows up to the docks and Penny has the Goolie with the heavy eye make up with her. He’s like fitting to taze Jughead but Juggie brought Katniss with him so they Gucci.

Penny just wants to live her life and sell drugs. If they don’t let her do that then the Goolies and the serpents are going to rumble, not a midnight, but at dawn. You know. To keep things fresh.

I forgot about this small fry guy and that he’s coming after the Lodges. Also forgot all about Veronica and Hermione shit talking Hiram while he’s out. So like Hiram is going to expose Freds affair with Hermione but Fred was separated at the time and i’m pretty sure he’s not divorced. So really it was Hermione who was cheating on her spouse. I mean yeah it’s not great for Fred but he wasn’t going against HIS family.

Veronica and Hermione are still fighting when Small Fry breaks down the damn door and is like “ your daddy killed my daddy, prepare to die.”

Hermione is a terrible shot and misses the first 7 times but she gets the bitch eventually.

So Sweet Pea and Jughead are fighting about what to do about the Goolies when FP walks in the tells everyone that Fangs died. The poor baby. They vote about what to do and they decide they’re going to fight the bitches. So I mean, shit it bound to get lit.

Although Alice just found out her no good rotten husband has murdered like a ton of people she can still verbally assault him. GOD HAL YOU ARE SO STUPID.

“Are you going to kill everyone who has ever jay walked?”

And damn, bringing out FP. That cuts deep. Kill it Alice. Oh shit Hal don’t kill Alice! Betty beats him over the head with a fire poker!

FP is stressed! So there are serpent reserves? Who would that be?

So Jughead calls Hiram and is like “ Hey buddy. I know you’re the one making all this shit happen so like let’s make a deal.”

Hiriam comes home and baby boy Andre is dead! He runs upstairs all freaked out that he might have to say rip to his fam but they’re just at the table, waiting for him to come home and clean up the dead body in the study. That’s a blue job.

So Hal is being arrested and Archie is like “ omg he just tried to shoot my dad like 20 mins ago” and Betty acts all shook like she doesn’t already know that there’s another black hood. Pull it together sister.

She gets a call from Jughead and he’s like “ I love you bitch. I ain’t ever going to stop loving you biiiitch” and then he says he’ll see her soon. COULD YOU JUST EXPLAIN YOURSELF REAL QUICK PLEASE?

Oh Hell. Jughead is giving himself over the Penny and the Goolies?  So they’re just going to beat him to death and then murder all the serpents come morning? That seems extreme.

Hiriam took care of the body with the less hot ( but still hot) more crooked sheriff and Veronica is done with his shit.

Oh hell. FP carrying jugheads body? He isn’t dead. The bitch can’t be dead can he? It’s only the second season.  Well damn guys. Guess we’ll have to see.

I’m once again not reading this over because I have things to do today. Thank you and goodbye.

[meliecho]

Hearts and Heroes: One Shot - chpt. 9: Mark’s Past

A kind warning: This chapter contains a topic that may trigger some people. It’s not bloody, graphic, or gory, but it is psychological. Please keep this in mind when reading. Thank you.

A kind disclaimer: None of this is based in reality. Nothing like this happened 5 years ago. This is a fan created backstory. This is not canon, and not created by the devs of Hearts and Heroes. It is isolated to this story alone, and should not be considered canon in any way, shape, or form.  ...But headcanons are perfectly acceptable.

I have this ability to disassociate myself from the Id so I can put 100% of my ability into the art, even if it tears me apart to do it. Later, when I reconnect, I think, “WTF was I thinking?” I love Mark, so writing this was hard, but it's the story. Creators know the story will beat them with a nail-studded nerf bat until it’s told. We apologize to our characters all the time. I'm sorry, Character Mark. I’m really sorry.

---

Thank you. Please grab some tissues on the way in. I apologize in advance.

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Summary: While Mark watches over Sun, and the team recovers in the infirmary, Tiny Box Tim relates to Blue the story of a poignant moment in Mark’s past within the dream world, and we learn about Tim.

----------------------------------

“Hey, Tim?” Blue caught the little box's attention.

Tim wobbled over and jumped up onto her bed. No matter how many times he had to leap to reach higher places, it looked to take little-to-no effort. “Yeah?”

The main reason she wanted a little bit of distance between herself and the team came out in her next question, “What did he mean when he said he wouldn't lose her, too? I've never heard Mark go off like that. What happened to him?”

Tim quieted his voice. “He won't like me telling you, but in light of recent events, and with you being his team leader, I think he'll forgive me.”

Blue listened closely, letting the little box Somni speak. “I have time. Hit me.”

“You know Mark was chosen just like you were, right? Well, he also started out as clueless as everyone else. At first, he was the only person here. The main hub wasn't more than a single room with a row of folding chairs and a small raised platform for the stage. He didn't know what the heart on his sleeve meant, and for the first few nights he avoided the portal, unsure and afraid of where it would lead. So, he explored the area and got a bearing on this place he dreamed about every night. He started to believe there was a reason he kept coming back here, why he knew he was dreaming but wouldn't wake up, and why it felt real. His only clue was the portal, which remained open as if patiently waiting for him to decide.

“Finally, he just stared it down, flipped it off, and jumped. He created the menu on his first mission to organize everything he found, because that kind of logging system made sense to him as a gamer. That first mission terrified him so much he woke up screaming. Eventually, he fell back to sleep and finished the dream. He rescued the mission target on his own, and they worked together from then on. Ben’s file and his appeared in the menu. Mark designated one room to hold all of the information gathered in these other dreams.”

“Google's library.”

“Yup. Except Google wasn't around yet, so the team leaders had to input everything themselves, or designate a team member to do it. Anyway, he soon realized the hub was a constant in the dream world; like an island in the eye of an ever-shifting storm –a safe room. Terrorlings couldn't get in on their own.”

Thanks to her experience with Mark's nightmare, Blue knew the wraiths could hitch rides in people. They just couldn't leave them while inside the hub.

“It didn't take long for others to start finding their way here, and pretty soon, he had his own team - Ben, Marly, Nathan, Anna, and himself. He was quickly voted in as the leader, even though most of his decisions were more 'Screw it. Let's try it and find out' rather than highly thought out calculated plans. No one really knew what they were doing. Everyone was flying by the seat of their pants, but as the missions added up, so did their experience. The five of them became best friends here the same way they had best friends in your world. Everything was going fine. They believed that they were truly making a difference, even if they couldn't remember it or each other when they woke up.”

He stared across the aisle at his friend's hunched back. Mark was exhausted, drained, and damaged from the battle, but he wouldn't let himself fall. “It happened six months into his role as team leader—about 5 years ago. Ben didn't show up. We got our mission briefing and went into a dream centered around a game called MYST.”

“Never heard of it.”

“It's an old school PC game consisting of puzzles and clues. You have to find books and pages to free a pair of brothers trapped in the books and blaming each other for their father's death, or something. Don't quote me on that. It's been a while.”

“Sounds cool. So, then what happened?”

“Their mission target was Ben.”

She frowned. “Oh.”

Tim continued. “They had to solve some of the puzzles before finally reaching him at the rocket ship up on the platform. But when they got there, the sky turned black, and the stairway to the ground crumbled, leaving them trapped with a horde of Terrorlings. The dream suddenly exploded into pixels around us like we were sucked into a black hole. It left us in this hollow void with the Terrorlings. The dream had disappeared and this was all that was left.”

“Like what was slowly happening because of the black squares in Sun's dream?”

He nodded. “That's when everyone realized the Terrorlings got to him a long time ago—long before he'd even met the four of us. He hid his own battle so well, no one even knew. His heartlight faded just like Sun's.”

Blue listened, completely absorbed in the tale.

“They tried everything to convince their friend that they were there to save him. They cried, they hugged him, they shouted at how much their team mate meant to them. They did everything they could to push that message beyond the Terrorlings' hold, but it failed. He was unresponsive.

“The team fought off waves of enemies, killing dozens of them. It was only when the Terrorlings suddenly backed away from our teammate to focus on us that we knew something was seriously wrong.

“There were too many for us to handle. They restrained the whole team. Mark was shoved to the ground and pinned down. He watched his friend collapse to his back like a rag doll. Ben turned to look at him and said something Mark would never forget; 'I'm sorry. I should have told you, but I couldn't. I made a mistake that I can't take back. Please forgive me.'

“It hit him just then the gravity of what he was facing. He'd reached out in desperation to his friend who was only a few feet away and kept demanding that he fight this. As team leader, he ordered him to stay. His cries mixed with the other three, all begging their friend to hold on, and that they were going to go home. He used the last of his energy on a healing spell to try to fix his teammate.”

Tim's gaze lowered to his clenched hands at the memory of the distorted scene from Mark's point of view. “Mark wasn't strong enough. He was forced to watch Ben’s heartlight go out with no way to save him. Everyone was kicked out of the dream back to consciousness. He woke up crying without knowing why.”

Blue felt a crushing sadness form a prickly ball in her chest. The image of Mark screaming for his friend was powerful enough to form a lump in her throat. Hot tears stung her brown eyes. “So Ben...died?” she whispered.

Tim nodded forlornly. “By his own hand in the waking world. We're not sure how, but he was alive long enough to reach us, almost like he planned it. The dream mission was his way of saying good-bye through one of his favorite childhood games. There really was no saving him from the start no matter what we did,” Tim exhaled. “Mark blamed himself. He still does.”

Dark's admonishment during Mark's nightmare suddenly held more depth than it already did, 'You know you can't really help people. You can't save anyone.'

She looked over at Mark watching over Sun. “That's so sad. No wonder he fought so hard to save her.” She wiped wetness away from her eyes in sympathy for her friend. She couldn't imagine losing any of her team. Just the thought of it terrified her. They were her family here in her other life, rescuing people from the Terrorlings together. She swallowed the lump to regain her voice. “What happened after that?”

“The team broke up. They got together on a few missions a couple of months after that, but it was never the same. Mark lost all faith in himself to lead a team. How could he take on that mantle if he couldn't even save one of his own? So he handed over leadership to Marly and decided to dedicate the majority of his time helping newbies and any of the teams that needed an extra hand. 

“Marly left for 2 years. The pain of losing Ben, and seeing Mark and Nate as constant reminders of the past were too much for her. She came back late 2015. Nate never left. Anna moved to a different hub completely and we haven’t seen her since. 

“Mark made a promise to himself to never be that helpless again. That's why he created the Markihorn after the shop opened—so he could be quickly summoned to a dream to briefly help in a battle, then return here.”

“Did he know any of them in the waking world?” Part of her didn't want an answer.

“Mark pieced everything together over the years. At that time, no, he didn't know them outside of the dream world.”

A soft breath of relief escaped her. “Did he ever meet them?”

“He met the other three a year later at a convention. They were all in the same line of work, but he didn't have everything put together yet, so the connection he felt didn't make sense. They were all connected to each other because of their bond of friendship here. That link that forms from spirit to spirit is actually pretty strong between team members, some more-so than others, and carries over into your world. They got along, and formed new friendships. As time passed, he realized they didn't remember their lost teammate or the dream world while awake, but he did. He was the only one. He decided not to tell them about it while conscious. At least in the waking world, he wanted them to lead happy lives without this knowledge.”

“That sounds like something Mark would do. Damn, I had no idea,” she hushed. “It's terrible. He has to carry that around.” She glanced to Tiny Box Tim, who hopped down to the floor. “Hey, you said 'we,' 'us,' and 'I' a few times in weird places. Were you on the team?”

“Sort of. I was still part of him at that time.”

Blue didn't fully understand the formation of Somnis, but she knew Purple did. She'd have to read up on it, or ask for the Cliff Notes from her best friend. “You mean you were in his head? Like Dark?”

“Yup, but nothing like that big Jerk. Mark lived his life and I was fine with that. I remember the moment I realized some of my thoughts weren't mine and became what I am, but that didn't matter. I was happy where I was being a little character he tapped into to smile.”

“So, you wouldn't have left?”

“It wasn't a priority. I was fine. But the pain from his heart was so overwhelming after that mission, that I debated if it was a good idea to become my own self or not. I even managed to reach him in a deep dream once, but when I asked if I should become myself, all he did was grab me and say, 'We're saving the pancakes, Tim! It's a musical this time. The zombies are onto us. Get in the tub! You drive, I'll shoot!' I asked again, and he yelled 'Yes! Help me, Tim! Get us out of this parking garage! Keep driving!'”

Blue couldn't stop a snerk. “Dreams are weird.”

“Yeah. A lot of his dreams took place in a parking garage.”

“Again: weird.”

“But even in that, he was fighting to stay out of the darkness. He was suffering. Even the happy memories that I recalled to help him were met with a half-hearted smirk. He didn't know what was wrong. I tried to tell him he'd be ok, but every time, the other thoughts that contributed to Dark's formation were louder than me even though I was yelling. He kept thinking my voice was his. He wasn't wrong, of course, but at the same time, he didn't know I'd become self aware a while ago. He wasn't listening to me. So, I had to make a decision; stay and try to deal with this from within and risk being suppressed, or do something here and actually help him. It was the easiest decision I ever made. I pushed beyond my limits and became corporeal a few days later. He needed me.”

Tim also had to explain the concept of Somni, since he was the first one. Mark was super confused, thought he'd gone bonkers, and was a little frightened when a tiny talking wooden box suddenly said 'Hi, Mark!' from outside his own thoughts.

Tim offered her a small side smirk, letting her know everything was ok. “Don't worry about Mark, Blue. He's stronger than people think. You know that. He's one of the strongest people I know. Even though the past hurts, he found a way to heal and use it to help others. He's doing fine. He has his friends in the waking world, and he has you and your team, now. For him to accept joining another team after all this time is a huge step. I'm proud of him for that.”

She bit her lip, sniffling, and gave Tim a promise of her own. “We'll, he's not getting out of this team, now, so he has no fear of losing any of us. We'll always have each others backs no matter what.”

Tim's smile exuded genuine relief and happiness. “I trust you on that, and I'm holding you to it. Get some rest, Blue. You don't want to feel the repercussions of this particular mission when you wake up.”

“Yeah, no kidding. It's a good thing it's the weekend.” Blue watched him bobble over to help the dark haired girl in the gray flannel shirt. She laid back to stare at a lazily rotating ceiling fan and folded her hands over her chest. “We're not going anywhere, Mark. Not from you and not from Sun, Red, Peach, Purple, or Jade. And if you even think we are, I'll kick your butt here, and in the waking world. That's a promise.”

------------

TBC

Prologue: A Light in the Darkness

Chapter 1: Weekend Warriors

Chapter 2: Something’s Suspishy

Chapter 3: Chasing the Sun

Chapter 4: The Nightmare’s Truth

Chapter 5: Light and Shadow

Chapter 6: Lifeline - part 1

Chapter 7: Lifeline - part 2

Chapter 8: Phantom Power

Chapter 9: Mark’s Past

Chapter 10: A Second Chance

Chapter 11: Learning to Breathe

Epilogue: Ad Infinitum

[getseriouser]

20 THOUGHTS: Easy peasy, Albanese

ALL the experts said the UK would vote to remain in the EU. Similarly everyone thought Hilary would win 

Why do we then act so surprised with last Saturday’s result?

I mean, North Melbourne aren’t the most reliable of tips in 2019 and Sydney showed up in the moments that mattered, let’s be honest.

Oh, and the Federal Election, yeah what a boil over that was. Flicking Malcolm Turnbull then the extra day of mess to turn Peter Dutton into Scott Morrison – masterstroke.

Alastair Clarkson could only dream of such a bold yet effective gameplan.

 1.       Let’s get Carlton out of the way early. Pretty awful last Sunday arvo, sure. But there was nothing surer than the GWS, a week after a pretty soft performance, being openly roasted by their football director, with the prospect of a home game playing a team who’d won four of their last 40, being absolutely on like no-one’s business and doing a number. ‘Giants by a street’ was the bet of the round. So how much were the Blues on a hiding to nothing before a ball was even bounced, why was there such a shock?

2.       As for the victors, so let’s get this straight. Only team to beat the flag favourite, and down at Geelong too, yet one bad game against Hawthorn and they’re a failure. But now, after a dominant performance which showed they are as ruthless as it gets, they’re a favourite again? This column sticks fat, everyone else changes like the Melbourne weather.

3.       Geez, Matty Lloyd, the velvet sledgehammer got soft. Said about Shane Mumford on Marc Murphy “I don’t think he should play this week… his eyes are nowhere near the ball, his eyes are only on Murphy.” Reckons he should have been offered two weeks suspension. Now Matthew, Chrisso assessed it as “…Mumford’s actions were not unreasonably in the circumstances. No further action was taken.” Exactly, it’s a contact sport Lloydy, bloody hell.

4.       Speaking of the former Carlton skipper, he’ll miss a few games now with ribs, but why is he playing in the seniors whilst four-time premiership legend Jaryd Roughead is languishing his last year of footy at Box Hill. If Rough is playing VFL, then the Northern Blues should be where Murphy plays too.

5.       Daisy cops seven and a half gorillas for calling an umpire a cheat. Hmm, surely an apology is all that needs, I mean sure it’s not a great word and umpires need the respect, but that’s a massive whack, especially when it didn’t make the umpires mics so it was just the boundary umpire having a whinge.

6.       Last one on Carlton – Sam Walsh. Number one pick, one of the favourites for the Rising Star, will be a 200-game jet at a minimum. But is he even the best midfielder from his draft class? Those this column trust suggest Bailey Smith, this week’s rising star nominee, will end up the better player and the Dogs, should they have had pick one last year, would have chosen Smith over Walsh. Time will tell, but Doggies fans have got themselves an absolute beauty if nothing else.

7.       On the Doggies, hows the Luke Beveridge vs. Damien Barrett saga. I had a stoush once, it barely lasted a week. This has been years. And the latest episode was on Barrett’s reporting of Tom Boyd a couple years ago, the mental illness vs. back complaint conversation. Regardless, there’s ego on both sides, neither is completely in the right, but players would run through brick walls and win flags for Bevo, whereas the other is getting flogged everywhere for football’s four hundredth best podcast. Sod off Damo.

8.       Mid-season draft on Monday, some clubs will find some much needed talent to keep them in the race for the eight, such as Essendon who might look for a backup in the ruck. But others have an eye to the future. If there’s a guy in the VFL or SANFL who might be a second round or third round pick come the end of the year, why not snare him now and stash him, freeing up the pick you’d used in November? Not the intention of the draft but as always the AFL instils new ideas ridden with loopholes to exploit.

9.       I know it’s a broken record but seriously, West Coast can’t win it, I know they’re seen by some as one of only five chances, but unless they tweak something that changes how they look, or Naitanui’s return adds something really different, they haven’t evolved from last year when one always must evolve. Melbourne if they were any good would have toppled them. They’re 6-3 and sitting sixth, or equal third, but with a % of an even 100 – it’s a false record.

10.   Dees scoring, awful. Jayden Hunt with 11 goals is leading their goal-kicking, Jake Melksham next on 10. Christian Petracca is playing as a forward moreso than in the guts and only eight goals. It’s shit.

11.   Brisbane has only four games left against teams in the eight right now – job done, they kinda have to make finals now, well done Fagan and team.

12.   Gotta say it, is the eight done?

13.   Trav Varcoe, its probably a week, sure, but gee, for Indigenous Round where the Pies wear a jumper which honours the life and tragedy that was Varcoe’s sister, Maggie, who died sadly from an accident on the football field. Can we all agree he plays this week but serves his suspension the round after perhaps?

14.   Another reason I think the Cats and Pies are too short for flag odds and the Tigers as premiership threats loom large – Geelong has used 28 players, Collingwood 27, Richmond though, 33.

15.   Gold Coast, sure Stuey Dew has been seen to so far have done a good job, but they’re back down to third last, two of their three wins were by under a kick and possess a worse % than Carlton. Dew’s getting a pass mark yet Bolton is cooked?

16.   St Kilda, should have won, plain and simple. But they’ll be ok, they’ve got good bits to work with, Billings, Gresham, Dunstan, Steele, nice pieces, stay patient, ride the course.

17.   Sunday at the MCG, two tall forwards on a nice dry day played ok games. One had nine touches and six marks, the other seven touches and five marks. One has played 140 games and is on a million bucks, the other was playing his seventh and is getting peanuts. Tom Lynch. Mitchell Lewis. If you’re a Hawks fan, you would have walked away upset about the loss but happy the highly-prized recruit at the other end is no better than your tall forward.

18.   The Adam Goodes doco goes public in a couple weeks but a few have already seen it. Regardless of whether we all agree there was ‘some’ racism involved or it was literally about he and his character only and skin had nothing to do with it, the portrayal of the booing in his final year is coming from a deliberately controlled angle and it paints the AFL, the media and the football public badly. But we must remember its ‘an’ angle, only. Did at least one racist boo Adam Goodes? Most definitely. Did everyone booing him do so because he was Indigenous, or ‘not-white’. Most definitely not. Tarnishing the masses with the same brush hey, that’s always inclusive. Don’t listen to those in the media towing the politically correct line. Same thing with Scott Pendlebury ANZAC Day. Booing for different reasons, sure, but what I do know is that the outrage and the act with that did not marry. 

I’ll close with this - I like Bachar Houli, I like Majak Daw and I like Lin Jong. I like Eddie Betts, Travis Varcoe and Cathy Freeman. I don’t hate Adam Goodes, I thoroughly respect his football ability, but he wasn’t my cup of English breakfast, even before he pointed out the girl who absolutely did the wrong thing that night at the MCG. Now I’m not a booer but I have no broad issue with booing in between sirens. Am I racist?

19.   Next year is 50 years since the famous first semi-final between St Kilda and South Melbourne in front of 104,000, the Saints big winners on the day but a landmark occasion for both clubs trying to compete with the Carltons, Collingwoods and Essendons of the day. Said it before but now with an anniversary to commemorate it, Saints v Swans, Queens Birthday eve, Sunday primetime, Sydney wearing a South jumper, a match to honour rivalry that for a long time spawned from being either end of Albert Park Lake, but two storied tribes who played a massive part in the growth of the competition in this city.

20.   Some cricket to end with, the World Cup is fast approaching and the home nation are raging favourites. England seemingly score 400 at will and scorers are prepared for a 500 at some point perhaps. But here’s the dirty secret, the entire England batting prowess sits with their openers – Jason Roy and Jonny Bairstow. From there, Joe Root is awesome but not Sachin Tendulkar, Ben Stokes ain’t Viv Richards, and its ho hum from there. Bowling unit is good but no better than anyone else’s, so if you can get an opener or both cheaply, they’re just, well, England. But you let them get 150 for the first wicket, you’re screwed.

[areswriting]

a x e : ii

The uproar of laughter in the classroom makes my face feel like it is on fire, the tips of my ears burning red. Though I’m less embarrassed and more hurt, I gather my things with haste, knocking a beaker over in the process and jet out of the room. Hurt has never sat well with me—the pit in my stomach from hurt always unleashes a monster I call anger. If only Elise knew what was really untamed and unwelcome. 

I change out of my school uniform into jogging shorts and a t-shirt, and I run. Until the monster in my chest seeking raw meat creeps back into hiding in my belly. Until the desire to bloody my knuckles to the bone disappears. Until the pain of knowing just how alone I am is gone.  

My legs slow until I’m walking and I pull my sweat-soaked shirt over my head. I chose the walking trail instead of the track for solitude, however it is an usually warm and sunny September day, and there are students littered all over campus. I didn’t mind the occasional passer-by as I was running, but seeing Elise, on-coming in the distance makes me want to turn around and run away. I don’t, though, because my legs are already shaky.

Elise doesn’t notice me, as her eyes are glued to her cell phone—but her friend Sophie does. She lets out a squeal, tugs on Elise’s arm and blatantly points in my direction. Elise’s gaze follows her friend’s out stretched arm until it falls upon me, and she stops in her tracks.

I expect an immediate verbal lashing, or for her to grab Sophie by the ear and walk her the opposite direction. But all I get is an open-mouthed stare. My eyebrows crease in the slightest, then I understand why she’s looking at me the way she is. Part of me feels violated and I consider sliding my wet shirt back on—but I can’t help but feel a sense of victory, and my pride keeps the consideration at bay.

“Hi, Abram,” says Sophie once I’m closer.

“Hey, Sophie,” I say, offering a smile. I look at Elise, who takes an interest in manicured nails. “Hey, Elise.”

Elise lets out an exasperated sigh and looks at her friend. “Sophie, give us a minute. Now,” she adds and Sophie scuttles around us quickly, but I notice her glancing over her shoulder every foot or so.

“What makes you think you can speak to me?” she asks, arms folded.

“Um, the first amendment, I think?” I offer. She rolls her eyes. I sigh. “I just wanted to apologize, I shouldn’t have made that comment. I thought I was being funny…But I also thought that we were friends.” I pull my shoulders into a shrug as I step around her. Oddly, she turns her body, too. “But it turns out, I really am a stray. Even here.”

I see her lips part, like she’s about to speak, but I do before she can. “Have a good day, Elise,” I say, before turning and walking away.

△ ▼ △ ▼      

S: I really hate this jerk at school.

S: I wish you were here. I wish I could see you.

S: I need you more than anyone else right now.

K: What did they do to you? You know I can beat them up, right?

K: I need you, too, Syl. Why don’t you let me come see you? We can meet in public and I can send you new pictures. I know we agreed not to. But I can’t stand not being able to hold you, especially when you’re like this.

K: When you’re ready, all you have to do is say. I’ll be on the next train.

I’m not surprised when I don’t get a response. Lately, I feel so torn between what is and what might never be. My feelings for Sylvia have been constant, four years strong; but I can’t help but wonder if she feels the same way—or if I’m just someone whose only use is at her convenience. I used to turn to my mother when I needed validation—now all I have is a social media account with a six number following. 

@Dyer A Friday night look with nowhere to go.

I post a picture and within minutes thousands of likes and comments flood my notifications. While scrolling through them, one comment stands out: @sophie after seeing u today I can think of somewhere you can come? My roommate is out ;)

I click on her picture and it’s exactly who I thought it was. While I had little to no interest in Sophie, I was interested in the second picture on her account—a picture of her and Elise at my game. I tap the photo once to see a username pop-up over Elise’s face. Without hesitation, I tap the name and to my surprise it’s Elise’s very public account.

I am surprised when I see more art, scenery and architecture then I do selfies—not to say I thought Elise was vapid and conceited, but that I don’t know her well enough to think otherwise. I see pictures of places I’ve only ever dreamed of going and before I realize it, I’m two years into her Instagram account, and I see a thumbnail that makes my heart pound. I tap it, frantic until it enlarges and I see it more clearly. For a second, I could have sworn it was Sylvia staring back at me from what looks like the pier in Santa Monica. The more I study it, the more I see Elise and my racing heart slows. It’s obvious that she’s younger, but she isn’t more skin and bone than girl. Without thinking, I tap the picture twice—and the empty heart below the picture burns red. I throw my phone, as if that will undo what I’ve just done. Then I jump up from my bed and pick it up from the floor. The screen is still on and the red heart stares at me mockingly. I consider un-liking it, but I know she’s already gotten the notification, and that would look even more ridiculous and weird than liking a two year old photo in the first place.

I sit back down on my bed and take in a deep breath—my only logical option is to follow her account. So I do.

△ ▼ △ ▼      

Monday morning means going back to classes—which in turn means I have to wear that ugly school uniform again. I stare it is in distaste. There as to be a loophole to this, I think, running my fingers through my hair. Determined to find it, I look through the online student handbook and I smile like the Cheshire Cat.

I’m the elephant in the room, my grey pants an eyesore against the uniform, firmly ironed, khaki pants and shorts. My button down too bright against the dull, powder blue shirts that surround me. My first period class is advanced French—an easy A, and an easy getaway as I think I’ve become one of Ms Bisset’s favorite students.  

Second period, I know is going to be the most difficult—Mrs. Pierce, the psychology teacher is old-school and military trained. Still yet, I walk into her class, take my seat toward the front of the class and set my bag down.

“Yo, honest Abe, why are you out of uniform?” my half-brother shouts from the far left of the room. “Did the expensive fabric make you break out?”

I don’t have to say anything, because a girl that I don’t know speaks from behind me. “I vote he keeps that uniform, as long as he keeps his sleeves rolled up.”

I look as Jason and smirk as our mostly female classmates laugh.

“Yeah, cause his prison tattoos are so respectable,” Jason spits.

“Oh, Jesus, calm down, would you?” shouts Mrs. Pierce. I look forward to see her pulling her sunglasses off and letting her bag fall off of her shoulder and onto her desk. If I had to say what she looked like, I would she was experiencing one of the worst hangovers of her life. She sits in her seat and surveys the room; this is how she takes attendance.

“Dyer,” she says, with a slight roll of her eyes. “What the hell are you wearing?”

I sit up a little straighter and recite what the handbook says: 1. Students are expected to wear a solid colored dress shirt with tie or without a tie (tie should be within one inch of top button on shirt), long pants, or skirt, visible socks, and shoes. 2. Students should tuck shirts in so that belts are visible if worn. 3. Denim pants are not permitted.

“So, technically, I’m not out of uniform, I’m just not wearing the suggested one,” I conclude.

Mrs. Pierce laughs silently and shakes her head. “And what about tattoos, Dyer? And facial hair? Hm?”

I unroll my sleeves and raise my arm to show her the wrinkles. “I think the tattoos are tidier than this.”

She waves a dismissive hand. “You win. Next time, just put a blazer over it or something.”

I feel a tap on my shoulder, and when I glace back, I see that Elise is sitting behind me.

“How are you able to get the strictest teacher at this school to bend?” she asks.

I smirk and bat my eyelashes. “It must be my pretty blue eyes,” I say.

She glances across the room at my half-brother, then back at me. “You must have gotten them from your mother.”

I try not to let my smile look as sad as hearing that makes me feel. “I got everything from my mother,” I say.

I notice a book under her psychology book and I take it upon myself to pull it out. As soon as I see the cover, I wish I hadn’t. E. Monroe is printed across the front of it with nothing else but a small golden outline of a tulip on it.

I clear my throat and set it back on her desk.

“You asked me if I liked her, remember? The other day in the library? My favorite poem from that book is: So my home is not an honest home. So my home is an empty bed. That’s the thing about heart break. It’s the smallest of worlds ending. Everyone goes around you, smiling, like it’s nothing to close a door.”

‘She actually…” I pause and think about the words that are about to come out of my mouth; is my mother. I am not sure why I feel so comfortable with Elise to tell her—but I stop myself from going through with it. I shake my head and will the sadness to leave my eyes. “She’s amazing and she never gets enough credit for it.”  

[thewebofslime]

ARCHIVE ED MORRISSEY SHOW NEWSLETTERS × About that Podesta ‘underage sex-slaves’ Tweet from Andrew BreitbartSHARE ON FACEBOOKSHARE ON TWITTER About That Podesta ‘Underage Sex-Slaves’ Tweet From Andrew Breitbart LARRY O'CONNORPosted at 10:01 am on December 5, 2016 SHARE ON FACEBOOK SHARE ON TWITTER 0 Nefarious operators on the Internet (as well as some innocent, misinformed individuals) have been freaking out over a Tweet from the late Andrew Breitbart connecting John Podesta to a “underage sex slave” operation. SEE ALSO: Captain Marvel isn’t awful but it’s not top-tier Marvel either (some spoilers) TRENDING: Justice Alito shatters glass before Congressional testimony The reason this Tweet is suddenly getting responded to and re-tweeted thousands of times is because a recent conspiracy theory making the rounds about Podesta and the Clintons accuses the Democrat power-players of running an underage sex operation out of a pizza joint in DC. It’s the kind of story you’d find on the cover of Weekly World News (think “Bat Boy” and “Aliens visit Ross Perot before election” kind of stories) and other supermarket tabloids before the advent of the Internet. There are tons of websites who make a lot of money doing pretty odious things. One of those odious things is to purposely pass along fake stories to suck people in and make them think that even though a story seems completely unbelievable on its face, it’s true because it appears to have a legitimate news organization behind it. I know because once I was faked out for about 45 minutes by a story that I discovered on the Boston Globe’s website. (It had apparently originated on a satirical site) Another odious thing many websites do is to make money speculating about Andrew Breitbart. Some of them pass false conspiracy theories about Andrew being murdered by government operatives. Others spend thousands and thousands of words speculating about what Andrew would have thought, said or done about something happening in the current news cycle. The last thing I want to do is be that guy who tells you what Andrew thought or meant back when he was alive because everyone who interacted with him at the time has their own personal experience and not one of them is the whole truth. However, because of the confusion over this Tweet, I think some context and an explanation is called for. And, for some reason, Breitbart News has not stepped up and delivered it themselves. (I searched, if they have, I will update this column post haste.) Here is the text of Andrew’s Tweet, again: How prog-guru John Podesta isn’t household name as world class underage sex slave op cover-upperer defending unspeakable dregs escapes me. It’s a classic Andrew Tweet. His abbreviations, his invention of words (“cover-upperer”) tells me that this was probably Andrew’s work. I never really knew him to allow anyone to Tweet on his behalf but I suppose it’s possible at some point he did so without my knowledge. So, for our discussion let’s stipulate that it was Andrew who sent this out. What is he talking about? Anyone who knew Andrew well and worked closely in his sphere and knew what he would talk and Tweet about with regard to “underage sex slave(s)” and John Podesta, knows exactly what he is referring to: ACORN If you don’t remember James O’Keefe, Hanna Giles and the ACORN story that broke on Andrew’s Big Government website in 2009, here’s a quick description via Wikipedia,which has a lot of bogus takes on the story, but this brief description is correct: In July and August 2009, Giles and O’Keefe visited ACORN offices in Baltimore, Washington, D.C., Brooklyn, San Bernardino, San Diego, Philadelphia, Los Angeles, and Miami. Giles dressed as a prostitute, while O’Keefe wore white khakis with a blue dress shirt and/or tie and claimed to be her boyfriend. Giles and O’Keefe recorded the encounters using hidden cameras and pretended to be seeking advice on how to run an illegal business that included the use of underage girls in the sex trade. So the ACORN story that Andrew was intimately involved with, helped define his brand, and catapulted him into the media spotlight was a story about an underage sex slave operation. OK? So how does Podesta factor in as a “cover-upperer” of the ACORN sex slave story? Here’s the explanation from liberal Think Progress in 2009, a site overseen by John Podesta at that time as he was the head of Center for American Progress (CAP): In response to recently released videos of ACORN staff engaging in inappropriate and potentially unlawful activity, White House Press Secretary Robert Gibbs said today that “the conduct you see on those tapes is completely unacceptable.” ACORN President Bertha Lewis released a statement explaining that the advocacy group for low- and moderate-income Americans will now conduct a “thorough review” of the organizations’ operation. CAP President John Podesta, who also sits on ACORN’s Advisory Council, said, “Accountability starts with knowing all the facts. ACORN, which is doing important work in advocating for lower-income Americans all across this country, is taking an important step today by acknowledging its need for reform and demonstrating its desire to take corrective action.” Yeah, talk about the fox watching the hen house. To prove ACORN did nothing wrong in the O’Keefe/Giles videos presented on Andrew’s website they asked Podesta, a partisan hack who sat on their own Advisory Council to investigate them. Here was Andrew’s take at the time in his Washington Times column: The next day, Clinton Chief of Staff John Podesta, the Democratic Party’s top fix-it guy with control over much of the left’s well-funded vast attack machinery (think George Soros, the Tides Foundation, et al.), was among a small advisory group placed in charge of investigating the matter. With the mainstream media continuing to ignore the evidence on the tapes, Mr. Podesta is now clearly in charge of feeding them information about his well-structured investigation into the investigators. The ACORN internal probe is a “war room” aimed at destroying the messengers and is not meant to clean up major corruption. Since Mr. Podesta was appointed to investigate ACORN, the only thing investigated has been the investigators, Mr. O’Keefe, Ms. Giles and the publisher of the journalism behind it, yours truly. Of course, his conclusions were that ACORN did nothing wrong and all the fault in the story lay at the feet of Breitbart. A conclusion picked up by Media Matters for America, a left-wing activist site that made it their goal in life to destroy Andrew Breitbart. MMfA turned the ACORN story into a cudgel with which to beat Andrew over the head, and did so hundreds of times, in an attempt to discredit anything he did. When the Anthony Weiner story first broke it was MMfA who pointed to ACORN as a reason why he should not be trusted and they pointed to the Podesta report as “evidence” for that theory. MMfA, not coincidentally, began their operations in office space borrowed from… wait for it…. John Podesta. So, who is John Podesta? He runs the Center for American Progress think tank, which in 2004 helped launch Media Matters for America, the well-funded watchdog outfit run by ex-conservative journalist David Brock, which feeds the media reams of anti-conservative documents that attempt to diminish the credibility of alternative media outlets. Here are Andrew’s words, again, from 2009: Both the CAP and Media Matters sites are focusing their attention on Ms. Giles, Mr. O’Keefe and me. Does anyone really think Mr. Podesta is investigating ACORN, when his well-greased external machinery is so blatantly investigating us? So get into Andrew’s head for a moment circa Feb, 2011. His entire sphere of reference at that time with regard to Podesta was in the context of his role creating left wing activist groups like CAP, ACORN and MMfA. Podesta had just joined the Obama Administration. Andrew was tweaking the media for giving Podesta a pass and celebrating the man who Andrew saw as his bete noir. And one of the most outrageous things Podesta did to Andrew, that the media never scrutinized, was his white-washing of the ACORN scandal. In other words, from Andrew’s perspective, Podesta was a “world class underage sex slave op cover-upperer defending unspeakable dregs .” That’s what the Tweet means, and anyone who tells you otherwise is up to something. TAGS:ACORNANDREW BREITBARTJOHN PODESTASEX SLAVETWEETTWITTERUNDERAGE SEX SHARE ON FACEBOOK SHARE ON TWITTER RELATED STORIES Eric Holder: Maybe we should pack the Supreme Court with two new Democratic justices in 2021 ALLAHPUNDIT Mar 09, 2019 2:31 PM Here we go. 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By all means, run on that in 2020 Zachary Greenberg has a history of university jobs and trouble with roommates JOHN SEXTON Mar 08, 2019 8:45 PM “…the subject of a restraining order in 2017 that was requested by one of his roommates” Question for Dem 2020 candidate John Hickenlooper: Are you now, or have you ever been, a capitalist? ALLAHPUNDIT Mar 08, 2019 8:01 PM “I don’t look at myself with a label.” Rotten Tomatoes purged 50,000 negative Captain Marvel ‘reviews’ JOHN SEXTON Mar 08, 2019 7:21 PM “As of 8 a.m., the film had a 33 percent audience score from more than 58,000 reviews.” Ilhan Omar’s newest target: Barack Obama? ALLAHPUNDIT Mar 08, 2019 6:41 PM “We want to recognize the actual policies that are behind the pretty face and the smile.” Wow: Chicago grand jury indicts Jussie Smollett on 16 felony counts of disorderly conduct ALLAHPUNDIT Mar 08, 2019 6:01 PM Bye. TRENDING Justice Alito shatters glass before Congressional testimony Captain Marvel isn't awful but it's not top-tier Marvel either (some spoilers) Maryland Democratic leader calls for doxxing of gun rights activist "terrorists" Zeldin to Dems: Do you really want to know why I'm voting against your "spineless and disgusting" resolution? Eric Holder: Maybe we should pack the Supreme Court with two new Democratic justices in 2021 Chelsea Manning jailed for "not believing in the Grand Jury system" Where have all the men without college degrees gone? More than half of Californians say they plan to leave as state leads U.S. in outmigration Harris: The economy is 'great'? What about all those working multiple jobs to keep up? The people who eat the same meal every day Maryland Democratic leader calls for doxxing of gun rights activist “terrorists” JAZZ SHAW Mar 09, 2019 7:01 PM “Time to dox some homegrown terrorists.” Chelsea Manning jailed for “not believing in the Grand Jury system” JAZZ SHAW Mar 09, 2019 5:31 PM And it’s on with the show, folks Justice Alito shatters glass before Congressional testimony KAREN TOWNSEND Mar 09, 2019 4:01 PM Ice-breaker Home Archive Ed Morrissey Show Newsletters About Advertise Privacy Policy Terms of Use Copyright HotAir.com/Salem Media. All Rights Reserved.