#oh and Angela you owe me a fucking apology

[blackbackedjackal]

Honestly super pissed I didn't get to do my Black History Month stuff this year on my blog due to this situation.

I missed some fun things and I think that was what was getting me. She was slowly taking up too much of my personal time. Literally so much of this was "I have a job and a puppy and I live alone I don't have time for you." And all she did was cry about it cause she missed me so fucking much I guess.

[viennakarma]

Satisfaction [Part 2]

PART 2 OF SATISFACTION

Summary: Four times Lewis tried to apologize, and one time he didn't need to.

Word count: 4.3k

Tags: female!reader, apologetic!Lewis (finally), physiotherapist!reader, a little bit of romance, Lewis is trying, reader is more forgiving than the author would be, cursing, a bit angsty, happy ending, not beta read

Relationship: Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Note: I'm so sorry for taking so long with this! I had a writer's block specifically with this one. For everyone who sent me asks about it, I read everything, sorry if I didn't reply to all! Luckily, one dramatic anon sent me an ask saying they would graduate college with a doctorate before this came out, and it made me laugh out loud BUT it actually sparked something in my brain and I managed to write, lol. So, thanks, Dramatic Anon, I owe you one :D

I'm sorry if it's rushed or full of mistakes (haven't had the time to proofread).

Find me on Twitter!

I.

“Hey, Lewis! How are you doing?” Angela said as soon as she picked up his call, and Lewis held his breath before answering.

“Yeah, uh, I’m alright-”, he scratched his face nervously.

“I hope you’re not giving Y/N a hard time anymore, yeah?” Angela joked a little, her voice light.

“Oh. You know about that?”

“Yeah, I called her a few days ago to check in how’s the work and she mentioned you were not very receptive,” Angela said and Lewis noticed that, even saying that, you didn’t call him what he was. A complete prick. “And since she didn’t call again, I assumed things got better between you two.”

“Well, about that-” Lewis sighed, not knowing.

“What?” Angela paused, her voice suddenly serious again.

“She resigned. And it was entirely my fault.” He ripped the band-aid off.

“Lewis, what the actual fuck?!”

“I was awful to her. Way worse than I assume she told you. And before you call me every name under the sun, I need to contact her and apologize. Unfortunately, she blocked my number now, so if you can kindly let me know her address, so I can apologize.”

“You better fix this mess, Lewis.” Angela said before ending the call, as less than a minute later, a text popped up on his screen, your address. Which was in London, not very far from his own neighborhood.

Lewis sent flowers to your place with a small note apologizing and asking you to unblock him. When you didn’t answer and didn’t unblock him, he called the florist he had ordered to double check if you had received the flowers. You did. So you just didn’t want to talk to him. He kept sending a bouquet every day for the next three days. On the fourth day, as he was back home, he decided to go to your place himself.

He brought another bouquet, ringing the bell in your house. He rose the bouquet to cover his face, and he heard your voice, opening.

“Hi there, buddy! If I give you a hundred pounds, would you not bother bringing these flowers here? Just- throw them on the bin or something-” You stopped abruptly as the flowers lowered revealing not the young delivery man who’s been bringing flowers to your place every single day, but Lewis Hamilton himself.

“So you’re not even receiving the flowers?” He asked, sounding hurt.

“I got the first one, and I have no interest in anything that comes from you,” you managed to say, looking him straight in the eyes.

You looked exhausted, your hair was messy and your face lacked any makeup. But worse of all, you looked hurt and angry. 

“Wait, let me just- let me apologize, I can explain even if it’s not-” He dropped the bouquet, pleading.

“Just fuck off, ok? You have not a single reason to be here today.”

“I was an ass to you and-”

“And now we’re nothing. We are just strangers, nothing more, nothing less. Fuck off!” You said and didn’t even give him a second before slamming the door on his face.

II.

So the flowers were a no.

And he wasn’t sure where to go from that, since he couldn’t come up with any other way to make you at least give him a chance to talk.

He was still trying to think of something when he crossed paths with Oscar Piastri during media day. Lewis stopped dead in his tracks as he saw the rookie driver munching on a little protein bar, the package showing it was the same as you had offered him weeks earlier.

“Hey, there, Oscar!” Lewis greeted him, “if you don’t mind me asking. Where did you get this?” He pointed to the little package in his hand.

“Oh, Lando’s new PT! She’s covering for Jon as he’ll be a few weeks on paternity leave.”

“Oh, is she here?”

“At McLaren, yes.”

Lewis nodded, going straight there, not bothering with explaining why he was there just walking in. He found you in a small room with Lando. You were guiding him through a stretching session with a silicone stretching. Lando was telling you something and you were laughing, a hand on his shoulder as Lando pulled his arms in and out.

“-no way you said that! Poor thing, she must have been scared!” You said, then you two laughed.

You were looking healthier than the last few times he had seen you. You looked like you had been sleeping well, and your hair was pretty, and you were wearing make up.

As Lewis approached, and you noticed his presence, you stopped laughing, face getting serious and focused on Lando.

“Oh, hey man!” Lando greeted him, smiley and unaware of the thing between you two.

“Hi. Y/N, can I talk to you? I just need one minute then I’ll leave you alone.”

You scoffed but didn’t look at him, and Lando looked from your face to Lewis’ confused with the tension suddenly so thick he would be able to cut it with a knife.

“Y/N, can you just-”

“You’re all good, Lando. Tomorrow we do another session an hour before Free Practice, and then a stretching session between FP1 and FP2.”

Lando nodded, unsure of what to do so he just watched as you turned away and packed your bag, leaving with long strides through the door. 

“Mate, I don’t know what the fuck you did, because I’ve never seen her be mean ever since I met her. Good luck, though, seems like you need it.” Lando said, leaving to the opposite side.

Lewis muttered “fuck” before going after you. He found you outside the motorhome, and ran up to block your path, but he miscalculated and you ended up running straight into him.

“What the fuck? Dude, just leave me alone!” You tried walking past him but he blocked you again.

“Please, I’m so sorry! Really, I am, I was such a dick to you and you didn’t deserve any of that.”

You didn’t look at his eyes, adjusting your bag as you sighed.

“I just- I don’t understand why you are doing this. I’m no one, I’m nothing. Just go on about your life.”

“No, no- You’re not nothing. I’m really sorry for the way I treated you when all you offered me was kindness.”

“Fine! Ok.” you muttered, seemingly exhausted, “Can I go now?”

He knew you didn’t actually forgive him, so he just let you go because he didn’t want to pressure you into something you were visibly not ready for. It didn’t mean he would give up, just that he needed a different approach.

III.

Lewis managed to find out that you’d stay a few more weeks working with Lando, so he arranged a well crafted plan to have you listen to him.

Desperate times asked for desperate measures.

So he managed to talk Lando into letting him drive you to the track that weekend, you two would have time to talk on the drive. He waited behind the wheel watching as you went to the backseat to leave your bags, then you opened the passenger door, smiling and chatting. But you stopped smiling as soon as you sat down and noticed him.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, sounding more annoyed than angry.

“I’m your ride to the track today.”

“I’d rather not,” you muttered, removing the seat belt you had just put on.

“There’s no one else to take you there, please, just let us go,” he asked softly. You sighed, putting on the seat belt again and he smiled reaching the cup holder and offering you a cup of coffee, “got you a coffee.”

“Thanks,” you took it begrudgingly, but as you took a sip, you noticed it was your favorite, “how do you know I like this coffee?”

“You told me, during one of our sessions.”

“I thought you weren’t listening to a single word I said,” you scoffed, almost disdainful. He took it, because taking your anger was little compared to what he did to you.

“I listened to you.”

“Weird way of showing, then.”

You stared at the road he was softly driving. You didn’t like his company, that much was clear, but he was on a mission, and he would be damned if he wasn’t going to properly apologize. 

“I don’t even know why you treated me like trash,” you muttered suddenly, sniffling like you were trying to contain the tears, “just- I was so happy, you know? I’ve always been a fan of Formula 1, watched it growing up and everything. Then I get here all happy to achieve the greatest dream and I just get treated like shit from day one. I tried to be funny, I tried to be kind, I tried to be silent, and none of it worked. I don’t understand what you want from me now! I’m a person too, ok? I get sad and frustrated, and I have my own problems, but I don’t go around making everyone else’s lives shit just because I’m mad!”

“Yes, you are right. I treated you like shit when you never deserved it. I really regret it, for what it's worth,” He sighed, looking at you for a moment before focusing on the road, “my life was shit. I know it’s not an excuse, but it’s the truth. I was just coming out of a relationship that I thought meant a lot to me, and I just lost Angela, who is one of my closest friends, and I was on the verge of losing my seat. It felt like everything was going wrong for a few weeks.”

That made you pause, turning to stare at him.

“What do you mean, losing your seat?” You sounded genuinely curious, and even a little worried.

“The negotiations for a new contract weren’t going ahead, and I was really worried Mercedes was going to get rid of me.”

“But you’re like- one of the GOATs! Why would they lose you?” Now you sounded exasperated, like you couldn't believe that. 

“Well, now everything is alright and signed, but it felt like I was really at risk back then.”

You stayed silent for a few minutes, mulling over his words, trying to wrap your head around his excuses. You were thoughtful the rest of the drive, until Lewis pulled up in a parking lot at the track. Finally, you nodded to yourself.

“I forgive you, Lewis. Just- Don’t do that to anyone ever again, it’s not cool,” you said, unlocking the seat belt, “thank you for the ride and for the effort in apologizing. Goodbye, Lewis.”

You took your bags from the backseat and left after waving at him again. It felt like a closed chapter to you, and you could bury whatever resentment you felt towards him. It was freeing in a way.

IV.

Lewis didn’t see you for a couple more race weeks, despite casually walking in front of McLaren’s garage and hospitality. He couldn’t catch a glimpse of you and he genuinely worried that your last goodbye was definitive.

Fortunately he saw you again late at night after a race. Almost everyone had left already, and Lewis had a long debriefing meeting with his team, so it was sheer luck to find you on the way to the parking lot, where you were standing against the wall, hugging yourself under a big coat and holding your bags. You seem worried and unwell.

“Hey,” he said, trying to sound like he wasn’t ecstatic to see you again, “are you ok?”

“Yeah, um- I missed my ride back to the hotel, so I’m trying for an uber or something,” you said, but Lewis unnoticed how you were pale and your lips looked dry.

“Are you sure you’re ok? You look like you’re about to pass out.” He pointed, and you breathed in, slowly. You felt very, very cold, with shivers up your body that you miserably trying to contain.

“I’ve got a little fever,” you mentioned, finally. Lewis raised his hand and touched your forehead, feeling it way more warm than a little fever.

“Little fever? You’re burning!” He exclaimed, putting his own Mercedes coat over you, then taking your bags and putting them over his shoulder, “Come on, I’ll give you a ride back.”

“You don’t have to, really-”

“I’m not leaving you here in the late hours of the night while having a fever! Now, come on!”

He held your forearm, worried you’d stumble and fall or something. With a big umbrella to face the rain, he guided you to his car, where a driver was waiting. The two of you sat on the backseat as Lewis instructed the driver to take you to the hotel.

“Should we take you to see a doctor or something?” Lewis asked.

“No, don’t worry, I already took an antipyretic. It should work soon.”

Back in the hotel, Lewis accompanied you up to your room even when you wanted to refuse, but he said he was worried, and it felt honest, so you let him take you up. He didn’t let you say anything as he pushed the door of your room and walked you inside.

“Are you still feeling cold?” He asked.

“Yes,” you put your bags away, but you watched as Lewis went into your luggage, “um- excuse me?” you crossed your arms, annoyed at him going through your things.

“Change into this, it will keep you warm,” he tossed you a sweater and matching pants, “I’ll ask room service for soup, so you can warm up.”

Huffing, you went into the bathroom and changed, glad because you were in fact a little bit warmer. You wore socks for the cold and got into bed, where Lewis helped tuck you in, pulling the duvet tight around you.

“Why are you doing all this? We’re just strangers, Lewis.” You shook your head, watching as he walked around the bed and sat beside you over the duvet.

“We’re not strangers, and I wanted to help,” he shrugged.

“We are strangers, we know nothing about each other,” you muttered.

“Well, I’m Lewis, my favorite color is purple and I have a dog named Roscoe,” he said which made you chuckle a little, “there, not strangers anymore.”

“Well, I’m Y/N, my favorite color is yellow and I don’t have a pet yet, but hopefully soon.”

Lewis eyed you carefully.

“I know you’re with McLaren on a temporary contract, so I was wondering if you’d be willing to come back to Mercedes after that,” he said, slowly. You sighed, shaking your head.

“I won’t go back, Lewis.” You said softly, for him to know you weren’t angry anymore, but the world had spun, life went on…

“But- Ellie said you were such a big fan! It’s ok if you don’t want to work with me anymore, I’ll understand. But I don’t think it’s fair that you lose your chance in such a big dream because of an asshole like me!”

“There are always other dreams to have, Lewis. When a door closes, others may open,” you untucked your arm so you could hold his arm in comfort. He held your hand, and when he felt your cold hand, he rubbed it softly, to warm you up.

“It’s not fair-”

“Lewis, I’m moving to Madrid in a few weeks.”

He stopped, visibly deflated hearing your words.

“I’m so sorry, I should’ve never-”

“Lewis, it’s not because of you,” you pushed the duvet, freeing yourself so you could sit up beside him, backs to the headboard, “I got an amazing offer from Real Madrid. I’m gonna join their PT team.”

“Oh.”

His stomach dropped once again, thinking that life would lead you two different paths, new future, new plans, and Lewis won’t even be able to make it up to you through time as he was hoping for. Lewis expected that, with you coming back to Mercedes, he would have time to apologize with actions, more than just words.

“They’re my favorite football team, and I’ve always dreamed of getting there,” when you noticed how down he was with the news of your departure, you pressed his hand a bit more, “I told you there are many dreams to achieve.”

“You wouldn’t have to worry about it if I hadn’t been so-”

“That’s enough, Lewis, it has nothing to do with you. This is my choice, something that I also dreamed of. It’s not the end of the world. If anything, there are lessons in what we went through.”

He wanted to ask you to stay, to give him and the Mercedes dream one more chance, but he knew it would be selfish of him to ask that. And he wasn’t willing to be selfish with you anymore. He would only have maybe a few more weeks with you, that he intended to nurture a friendship with you.

When your soup arrived, he stayed and watched you eat, and you thanked him profusely as the meds started working and you felt the fever dissipating.

V.

Lewis ended up going back to McLaren to find you all the time. Sometimes he brought a coffee for you, some other times he just wanted to invite you to lunch, or he wanted a protein bar, and after almost two weeks of that, his excuses ran dry and he only said he wanted to check on you. and he had been checking on you for a couple more weeks now.

“So…” Lando muttered with a knowing smirk, “you and Lewis, uh?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, as you spotted Lando from behind, analyzing his squats.

“You went from hating him to becoming his friend pretty quickly,” Lando pointed.

“And…?”

“I don’t know but he’s here all the time to see you.”

“Nah, he’s just passing by.”

Lando let go of teasing you and switched topics to talk about something else for the remainder of your session. After you finished and Lando went for the post race debrief, you were getting ready to leave when Lewis found you again.

“What do you want?” You squinted your eyes at him. Lando’s teasing voice still in your head.

“Moody, are we?” Lewis joked, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.

“Lewis.”

“Fine, fine! I’m taking you to dinner later today, ok?”

“Are you asking me out or demanding?” You frowned, pretending to be moody.

“I’m inviting you and implying I’m not taking no for an answer,” He winked.

“Lewis, I don’t think we-”

“Think of it as a farewell, celebratory dinner, yes? You’re leaving so soon to Madrid! Pretty please?” He joined both hands like he was begging.

“Fine. Stop pouting.” You rolled your eyes and he giggled, before leaving.

He texted you two hours later saying he was coming to pick you up. You dressed cozy and comfortable, since it was absolutely not a date. He texted you to let you know he was downstairs when you were finishing with your hair. As soon as you got in the car, you checked Lewis’ outfit.

“Is this ok?” You asked, pointing at yourself.

“It’s perfect.”

Lewis drove for forty minutes to the next town over. In the end, he took you to a cozy restaurant, small, a little cramped but so familial and cozy. You two sat in a corner booth, far from the windows. You went over the menu as Lewis explained that this place’s food tasted homemade and they also had vegan options, so he always went there whenever he was in that part of Italy.

You told Lewis everything about your move, how you had found a great apartment close to work, how you had enrolled in Spanish classes to start a month after your arrival, and everything.

After a hearty meal and chatting a lot, you two decided to go for a walk to eat some ice cream. The air was windy but not very cold, so you just walked side by side a little late at night.

“Are you sure nobody will see us?” You looked around to see if anyone had recognised him or had taken pictures.

“Yes, it’s very discreet in this part of town. Besides, it’s a little late, so not many people are around.”

“This is a very good gelato, Lewis! Thanks for taking me out today.” You muttered as the two of you walked around a big, dark park. You stood under a lamp post, finishing the last of your ice cream.

“How are you feeling about Madrid?” He asked you, looking interested.

“Nervous. Excited. I don’t know.” You whispered, smiling, you held the lamp post and let it take your weight as you flung around, all smiley because of the bit of wine you had at the restaurant, “It’s like a new adventure. You know when you’re about to do something that might be risky but gratifying? You’re scared but you have to-”

As you completed a full 360 around the lamp post, you were met with Lewis walking up to you and kissing you. He pressed his lips to yours, firm but tender, and it took you a while to assimilate what was happening. You held his coat and pushed him away only enough to break the kiss. The lime gelato kiss that had your stomach full of butterflies, and your heart beating almost out of its cage.

“Lewis-” you shook your head, still confused.

“Sorry, I- I just couldn’t pass on the opportunity,” he sighed and his breath fanned your cheek.

“We shouldn’t,”

“Why not?” He raised one hand to cradle your face, his thumb running your cheek.

“Because we started too messy. And- and I’m leaving soon. We don’t need to complicate things.”

You whispered, still not pulling away fully. You wanted it, so bad. But you knew you couldn’t get tangled in a messy situationship right before leaving. He was tempting, but you weren’t willing to risk whatever time was left of your silly little friendship.

So you took a step back. Still, you took his hand in yours, letting his warmth engulf you.

“Sorry,” he cleared his throat, but you just smiled at him, seeing how he was memorizing your face, and how your eyes were shining bright for him.

“It’s ok. Just, wrong place and wrong time, right?”

He gulped, nodding.

You didn’t kiss again, but Lewis held your hand the whole drive back to Monza.

Understandably, Lewis didn’t come back for your last week at McLaren. Despite being a little hurt about his absence, it didn’t really upset you, deep down you knew that it was better like this. The distance would make the goodbye easier for the man who wormed his way into your life. The whole team at McLaren gave you a farewell cake, which was sweet considering you were just a temporary hire.

You had tears in your eyes saying goodbye to the team and to the formula 1 track.

After that, you went back to London to finish packing, and shipping a few of your furniture and belongings. The dinner with your family and closest friends was filled with tears, and you finally caught up with Angela, explaining everything that had happened.

When the day came, your parents and siblings took you to the airport and you said goodbye with teary eyes and a heavy heart.

You were about to board when a sudden commotion caught your attention, and from between the crowd Lewis Hamilton emerged, running towards you as if he were in a marathon. Confused and shocked, you waited for him to get closer, and as soon as he stopped in front of you, he held your face with both hands and pulled you in a kiss. After two seconds, you returned the kiss, deepening it by opening your lips. He devoured you for a couple more seconds, before pulling away when you were both panting.

“Lewis? What the fuck?”

“This doesn’t have to be a goodbye, right? We can- I don’t know, we can figure it out,” He muttered, face close to you.

“Lewis,” you hesitated, “I’m moving away. We’ll spend most of out time in different time zones-”

“Wouldn’t you like to try? It’s better to try than spend our lives haunted by what ifs” His argument was convincing. And the fact that he was just centimeters from your face, and the fact that you had just kissed and his cologne was divine… Very tempting.

“Lewis, the next time you cause a scene in front of an entire airport, I’m killing you,” you whispered, pecking his lips once more as the crowd dissipated of people boarding the plane.

“I wanted it to be memorable, like a romcom.”

“You’re annoying, that’s what you are. You’re lucky you’re handsome” You rolled your eyes, but Lewis could still see the big smile on your face, eyes glinting.

“Is that a yes to my question?”

“One date, Hamilton. And we’ll see where it will go from that” You smiled, pushing his chest, taking a step back.

“I’m going to Madrid as soon as the triple header is over,” He promised, pulling you close again by the waist.

“You better! I don’t know, maybe I will meet a handsome Spaniard,” You joked, playing hard to get. You closed the distance so you could whisper in his ear, “You better work if you want any prize, pretty boy.”

He gasped at your seductive words, and you pushed him away. He smiled at you. Pulling one of his necklaces, he put it around your neck, a pearl one, very beautiful. The airport called all the passengers for the flight.

“A promise. Yeah?” He said, holding the necklace softly.

“Yeah. See you soon?” You nodded.

“See you soon.”

He watched as you walked away, and before boarding, you turned around and blew him a kiss. He laughed, pretending it hit him right over his heart.

TAG LIST: @mirrorball-6 @chanshintien @icysdiary @nat-lh-44 @aphroditeisamilf @sugardontbesweet @nonsensical-nonsence @slytherheign @luv4kani @18754389 @lorarri @verew @honethatty12 @smartstupyd @moonraysworld @chanelxreid-blog @gemini5991 @comfortzonequeen @blue1amory @soryuwifeyxx @anangelwhodidntfall

[tea-with-evan-and-me]

Like many anons already said, I am actually not that disturbed by the transphobes defending Emma, because while it's of course annoying to see them bash an innocent woman and quite saddening to see there's still so much transphobia in a year 20 fucking 23, they're just helping bring more attention to her horrible behavior and help damaging her reputation.

However, some of Emma minions excuses piss me off.

The "oh, she waited 4 years, she just wanted to ruin AHS Delicate premiere". Okay first of all, that does not change the fact that Emma was transphobic. Like at all. Transphobia doesn't have expiration date (i totally stole that from some comment I read). And even if she told the story just to ruin the premiere. Even if she said it because she's jealous. Even if she said it because she's bitter about the promised AHS season. That does not change the fact THAT EMMA WAS BEING TRANSPHOBIC.

The "she waited so long to talk about it it's sus". No it's not. A black trans woman, waiting years to expose a white, rich, nepo baby who has a powerful aunt in the industry, is not suspicious at all. It's understandable.

The "emma meant she wasn't the lady, because she was aged with make up" THEY BOTH HAD MAKE UP ON. I know Emma tried to excuse herself that way, but that excuse does not make sense because one, like I said, they both had make up to age them. Two, older woman is also a lady? Like there's no age group for ladies... Why would Emma not consider herself a lady because of the make up that aged her...

The "emma was wrong but why she had to make it public" Hm i dont know, so people know that Emma Roberts is a transphobe and that people shouldn't support her? They really wished Angela would talk it out in private, so no one would find out. Oh well, too bad.

The "emma apologized" excuse. Well, her apology was shit because it basically was "I'm an ally, you misunderstood me🥺" And the apology does not change the fact that she's a transphobe. If you cheat and apologize, you're still a cheater. If you abuse someone and apologize, you're still an abuser. And oh wait, Emma is all of them, but haven't apologized for 2/3 because she wasn't publicly canceled for it.

Sorry for the long ask

no need to apologize, i definitely agree. people on the internet don't get to decide when someone who was mistreated have to let it go and move on. they don't dictate whether or not it plays out publicly.

this is where i think it's important to use clear language. for many people, when they hear about someone ''misgendering'' a trans person they think of an accidental slip-up where the person apologizes and didn't intentionally mean any harm. folks are acting like what happened is akin to this and angelica is being petty. they're not thinking about the entire sum of angelica's experience with emma and the intention behind what she did. emma was already making the set miserable for everyone, so it's not like she was some pleasant person who had a weak moment during anger. emma literally received an insignificant, snarky comment from angelica and decided that she would sarcastically insult her in the cruelest way she knew how.

honestly, angelica should not even be expected to accept emma's apology or acknowledge it. she did her a favor by doing so, one emma wasn't owed. she didn't even have to take her call. her fans are right, IT HAD BEEN YEARS. emma never thought about what she did and felt the need to apologize. so i have a hard time imagining what she said was sincere. there's no conspiracy about motives - she was right angry and hurt with what transpired and came to a point where she wanted accountability to be taken.

[travelingcalm]

Princess 👑 || Calum Hood Smut

Word Count: 1600

Warnings: Smut, Spankings, Face-fucking

The house was filled with people in fancy dresses and suits as I moved around the sitting area into the kitchen. I was intoxicated to say the least and planned to keep drinking.

My boyfriend, Calum and his band were hosting a fancy party in celebration of their album release with their management tonight and strict dress code of black tie had to be enforced even though tomorrow we would throw another party without management.

I wore a beautiful burgundy dress that hugged my body tightly and accentuated my breasts and had a slit up the left side that stopped just above my mid thigh. I wore it in hopes of making Calum crazy.

I was suddenly stopped by Crystal, Michael’s girlfriend and a close friend of mine. “Why don’t you slow down Y/N?”

I laughed softly and shook my head, “I’m fine! Just having fun.” I said pouring another glass of wine. Truth be told I hated parties like this, there were far too many people and Calum always seemed to disappear to talk to executives of some sort, leaving me alone to myself and a house filled with people I’ve only met once or twice.

Standing in the kitchen by myself and the glass of wine, I looked around the place feeling a sudden pain in my chest. I could feel my face turning red and I quickly chugged the wine, making my way out the back door hoping to find peace and quiet. I walked outside and quickly undid my black high heels, carrying them with me as I walked in the small patch of grass that was in the backyard due to the large infinity pool taking up much of the property.

There were only a few people out here, either smoking or lingering around as if to see the magnificent view the house had to offer which allowed me to catch my breath for a second.

It was a grand house, made mostly of windows and built up on a hill. You could see the city of Los Angelas below, lit up in the night. The house had six bedrooms, a studio in the basement and all the other little things the richest of LA could ever ask for.

I snapped out of my day dream when I felt a hand on my shoulder and I jumped, quickly turning around to see my boyfriend with a cigarette in his hand.

“Calum! Don’t do that!” I complained, sticking my bottom lip out. He chuckled lightly taking a drag of his cigarette and blowing it in the other direction, away from my face.

“And you know I hate when you smoke.” I pouted again, crossing my arms. Calum nodded slowly.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, but you’ve seen what it’s like in there! And we just got out of a meeting with the CEO of the company and-“

I cut my boyfriend off with a soft kiss and pulled away slowly. Calum hummed softly to himself and smiled, taking a deep breath.

“I know how you feel.” I said uncrossing my arms and taking the cigarette out of Calum’s hand, taking a small drag. If you can’t beat them might as well join them.

“Are you okay?” He asked slowly, taking back the cigarette. I nodded, turning back to the view.

“You know how I feel about these things, this is not my idea of celebrating.” I said looking out over the city. Calum sighed next to me and finished his cigarette, stubbing it in the grass with his toe.

I felt his hand wrap around my waist and pulled me closer to him as he placed a small kiss on my cheek, moving up to my ear.

“If my princess behaves tonight and socializes with the guests she will be rewarded.” He whispered, moving his hand down to my butt.

I let a small moan escape my lips as he kissed my neck again, knowing where my sweet spot was.

“Can you do that for me, princess?” He asked squeezing my butt with his hand. I nodded slowly and turned to kiss Calum.

“Uh-huh.” Calum spoke, pulling away, “Not until after the party.” He said with a small smirk on his face.

“Put your shoes on and go back up to the house, Y/N.” My boyfriend said backing away, walking back to the house.

I groaned to myself, muttering how I hated myself for letting him get to me the way he did, as I strapped my shoes back to my feet and made my way back. If I was going to socialize I was going to be way more drunk then I already was.

——

The night continued to go on as I found myself sitting in the sitting area with a bunch people I had never met before and we talked about our craziest travels around the world.

I was mainly listening but I would chime if they mention a place I had been before. It was weird to think that Calum had been to a lot of places but because of school I was stuck at home most of the time Calum was on tour with the band.

The group laughed softly at someone’s adventure in France and not knowing a single thing of French I was quite bored with the conversation, when I suddenly saw Crystal walk past the hall. I quickly darted after her, desperately wanting a fun conversation.

I shouted, running after her, though it was more like stumbling and I could feel alcohol coursing through my veins. She turned around right as I stumbled into someone’s arms, slurring my apologizes.

“I’m so sorry sir.” A stern voice quickly said as I was pulled away from the body.

I could hear a few chuckles from around me and I realized it was Calum’s grip that had tightened around my arms as he tried to have me stand.

“Someone doesn’t know how to handle her alcohol, hey Calum?” I heard someone ask and Calum chuckled softly, gripping my shoulder, pushing me out of his chest.

“Again, really sorry.”

“No but Calum!” I shouted and hugged him, kissing his neck. I could hear him sigh, gripping my arms again.

“If you could please excuse me.” He said suddenly, leaning into me.

“Let’s go.” He said in a low growl, ushering me up the stairs. I giggled softly, leaning into Calum.

Once in our bedroom and the door was shut, Calum threw me on the bed. I landed on the bed with a thud and began to giggle.

“I’ve been a good girl, Calum. I talked to people just like you said.” I giggled.

“Oh you’ve been a good girl? Stumbling all through out the house and making a fool of yourself?” Calum said sternly, standing at the end of the bed as he loosened his belt from his all black attire.

His tone made me realize that he was not happy with me. I stuck my bottom lip out and laid on the bed, not moving a muscle.

Calum pulled the belt from his pants and threw it down on the floor. He then loosened the buttons of his shirt and sat down on the end of the bed.

“Over my knee. Now.”

“But-“

He quickly turned his head to glare at me. I knew not to mess around when he gave me that look and I quickly stumbled up from the soft mattress, laying my stomach over his knees.

“Embarrassing me like that. What the fuck were you thinking?” He demanded, pushing my dress up before he let out a groan.

“And not wearing panties, you really wanted to be naughty tonight.” He growled before quickly slapping my ass.

“Ow!” I cried realizing he still had his rings on. He was really pissed at me.

“Shut up” he growled, holding his hand over my mouth and nose, cutting off air.

“You couldn’t behave for a couple more hours, no you have to drink all the alcohol you could find and stumble right into the studio’s manager. Embarrassing me in front of all of those guest.” Calum growler while continuing to slap my ass.

I could only whimper softly as Cal had my mouth covered and I quickly started to kick my feet to signal him that I needed air. Letting go of my mouth and nose I quickly took a large breathe.

“You’re such a slut.” Calum spat at him, delivering a final smack to my ass. I screamed out as my skin was red and bruised. I quickly rolled over and my breathe caught in my mouth as Calum dropped his pants and boxers.

“Suck.” He said, shoving his cock into my mouth. I opened my mouth and let him fill my mouth. His tip hit the back of my throat as Calum grabbed my face and began fucking my mouth. I gagged on his cock but knew Cal wouldn’t let up.

“Take it like the good slut you.” Calum growled, slapping my face with his hand. I began to suck harder on his tip, moving my tongue around his slit. Calum suddenly began to shudder and he moaned softly, the beautiful voice coming deep from his throat.

“Oh baby, I’m clos-“ he moaned before emptying his cum into my mouth. I gagged on the large amount filling my throat but I took a deep breath and swallowed his load.

“Good girl.” He said in a shaky breath, pulling out of my mouth. Calum smoothed my hair and collapsed onto the bed next to me.

“Such a good princess.”

[youralternantpersonality]

Bitch

Embry x Reader: Bitch

Warning: N/a

AN: Not my best work, but……

“Bitch” by Bea Miller

***

I hate little bitches. Granted, I am a little blunt, but that’s not my problem if people don’t like the truth. I had just started at Forks High and somehow, I found myself with a group of people on my third day here. I don’t mind, some of them are great people, it’s the other bitches that are bothersome. For example, Mike was hitting on Bella in the most desperate way possible. It was disgusting and I can tell Bella was too nice to say anything.

“Hey, Mike?” I called his attention,

“Yeah Y/n,” he said irritated, bitch you just fucked up.

“You know, I was going to say this the nicest way possible, but because of that attitude, I don’t give a shit. Please, for the sake of all of us, stop flirting with Bella. She is highly uninterested and you’re being a creep. Matter of fact, all of you guys, stop, the girl is too nice to tell you back the fuck up.” I said to all of them. Bella gave me a thankful look, Jessica looked shocked, Lauren looked pissed (like always), and Angela was laughing.

“Oh, what do you know! How are you so sure that we’re all flirting with her?”

“Because the smell of desperation oozes off you guys. End of discussion.” I look over to Bella and Jessica, “Do you have the lab notes from last week. I have no idea what is happening.” I said, ending the conversation. The guys rolled their eyes and called me a bitch.

“Heard that.”

I been runnin' my mouth around the corner Chasin' it down the street I cash in my words like I'm a billionaire But I don't have food to eat And I keep talkin' like I'm taller than the trees But my eyes never see much higher than five feet And I keep on tellin' everyone the truth But maybe that's not the move And everyone wants to hear a strong opinion If it's the same as you And they say honesty is the best policy If that were true, don't think all of my friends would hate me

I wouldn’t say I was a troublemaker, nor a problem starter, just an honest person. I may have gotten detention for standing up for a girl that was getting picked on by Lauren. The next day, I was in my history class minding my business when said girl decided to get me in trouble again. Thankfully, Rosalie Hale was just as irritated with her as I was.

“Keep talking Lauren and you’ll easily regret it.” If hell had a look, it would be the face Rosalie gave her. That shut her up quickly. I looked over at her and bowed my head towards her saying “thanks” and she did the same. She went back to talking to her boyfriend Emmitt and I went back to doodling. At the end of the day, I was walking towards my car when I heard someone call out to me.

“Hey!” I heard behind me. It was Erick, great.

“Yes Erick, how may I assist you?”

“Look, I just need to warn you. You can’t go around acting like you own the place. Being rude and such, that will get you nowhere girl.” He said, in response to this morning when Tyler came in with new J’s. Everyone was amazed, minus a few of us, and he started to act like he was better than everyone for having them.

“You know, you can have nice things and be humble at the same time.” I didn’t call them ugly, but, in guy code, I did. What-the fuck-ever.

“How do I put this nicely…No. Have a good evening.” I said walking away.

Society is suckin' on your dick And since I got a pussy, I'm a bitch And since you are a dude, yeah, you can tell the truth But as soon as I do, I'm a bitch Society is suckin' on your dick And since I got a pussy, I'm a bitch And since you are a dude, yeah, you can tell the truth But as soon as I do, I'm a bitch

There was a time, this guy, he tried to tell me "Men can cheat, women can't" Then he proceeded to ask me out on a date And I fuckin' laughed If you're a woman, you were made to pleasure me But out in public, hide them shoulders underneath

Overtime, Bella, Angela, and I got closer. One day We all went to La Push beach to meet up with some of the kids on the reservation. Angela had a date with Ben and couldn’t make it, so here we are, riding in Bella’s big pick-up truck, on our way to meet up with “Jake.”

It was awkward being the third wheel. Luckily, some other guys came to Jake's garage. One of them was short and kind of tubby and adorable…like a chipmunk. The other was cute as fuck, lanky, but cute with a nice smile. Chipmunk (later to find out his name is Quil), Embry, and I were talking while Jake awkwardly attempted to flirt with Bella. It was a horror show honestly.

“God, it’s hard watching him flirt with her.” Chipmunk said, Embry nodded and I kind of laughed.

“I want to say something. But I’m too amused at this. Anyone have some popcorn?” I say, Embry laughs and agrees.

“We always clown him about it so if we were to do it now, it won’t be the same reaction.” He looks over at me and gives me one of his cute smiles that seems to be thrown my way a lot.

“You just opened the gates of hell, my friend,” I tell him, look towards Bella and Jake and smile.

“Hey, Jake?” I yell towards him,

“Yeah?” awe, the cute puppy….

“Just ask her out.” We all laughed, Bella turned red like a baboon’s ass and Jake hid his face in his hands that were covered in oil.

“Hey, Bella! I like her!” Chipmunk said,

“Yeah, make sure to bring her around more often,” Embry said, sending a grin my way. I smiled at him and looked away. Bella looked at me, shook her head, but still laughed.

Society is suckin' on your dick And since I got a pussy, I'm a bitch And since you are a dude, yeah, you can tell the truth But as soon as I do, I'm a bitch Society is suckin' on your dick And since I got a pussy, I'm a bitch And since you are a dude, yeah, you can tell the truth But as soon as I do, I'm a bitch

I'm that motherfuckin' bitch (If I have to be, I'ma be that bitch) You should be suckin' on my clit (If I have to be, I'ma be that bitch) I said I'm a, I'm a, I'm a bitch (If I have to be, I'ma be that bitch) I dare you, stop me

Months passed and it was up to me to help Bella. Edward left and Jake disappeared on us. When she was dating Edward, Bella pushed everyone away, but I refused to be ignored. Plus, Rosalie liked me, so I was invited to the table. I noticed some things about the Cullen’s; I knew that they weren’t human, and I knew that they had special abilities. I never asked what they were, and they never asked what I knew. Edward read my mind and knew I knew they weren’t mortal but appreciated how I never went out searching. I was told to not say anything.

“Ha! And who would believe me? Plus, not a whole lot of people like me here anyways. Emmett, let me have your fries.”

After Bella’s birthday, they left. It took a while, but Jake and I put Bella back together. But then he left, and that pissed me off. So, here we are, in Bella’s truck on our way to Jake's place. She knew I was just as pissed, and I would have been more pissed if she didn’t invite me. Who would’ve thought that that would be the day that I’d meet, or re-meet, the love of my life?

Society is suckin' on your dick (on your dick) And since I got a pussy, I'm a bitch (I'm a bitch) And since you are a dude, yeah, you can tell the truth But as soon as I do, I'm a bitch Society is suckin' on your dick (on your dick) And since I got a pussy, I'm a bitch (I'm a bitch) And since you are a dude, yeah, you can tell the truth But as soon as I do, I'm a bitch

Watch me (If I have to be, I'ma be that bitch) I said, I'll be that bitch So stop me

Wolves…they’re all wolves and the Cullen’s are vampires. We showed up at Jake’s house and was turned away by his dad. Bella spots a group of giants and runs to them…the stupid bitch.

“Bella! Get back here!” she continues to be a stubborn ass and walks towards the football players. As we get closer, I notice Chipmunk and Embry.

“Chipmunk? Embry?” I call out while Bella yells at ‘ol boy named Sam.

“Uh...Hi Y/n. What are you doing here?” Chipmunk asked nervously. I looked him up and down then looked at Embry and damn nearly fell over. Hot damn, whatever life did to him, I would like to personally thank. He was staring at me with a look of shock and disbelief. Out of nowhere, I hear Sam yell.

“Get back!” I look over and see a pissed off hulk deforming himself. I back up slightly before a pair of arms wrap themselves around me and move me out of the way. Bella runs and, of course, trips, but outcomes Jake who shifts into a goddamn wolf. I watch in disbelief as the two wolves go at it and I can’t say a damn thing. Well, except for…

“The fuck was that shit! How does the Hulk turn into a wolf?” I said, not moving from the arms wrapped around me.

“Jared, Quil, Embry, bring them back to the house.” ‘Ol boy says and just walks off.

“Come on, let's get you somewhere safe.” The body holding me said, I look up and see it’s Embry and I’m not mad.

“Good, cause you and Chipmunk owes me an explanation.” And they did. Jake and crazy boy Paul come back in as if nothing happened and apologizes. They explain to us in short what was going on and what they were.

“So now that, that’s out of the way; and you see me like this. Y/n, can I get another name besides Chipmunk?” Quil asked. I laughed and laughed and laughed.

“No. Stay humble. Remember your roots. Plus, be thankful I didn’t name you squirrel, that was runner up next to hamster.” He looks sad but slightly smiles when the guys laugh and attempt to make fun of him.

“I don’t know why you guys are laughing. I already named Paul the Hulk, Jared your chicken, and Sam is ‘ol boy.” They all looked at me and I heard Embry laugh,

“What about lover boy over here?” Jared asked pointing his chicken leg towards Jake.

“Ha! Which one?” Hulk says, “We all know Jake's love for Bella, but Embry hasn’t stopped looking at Ms. Blunt over here since we were outside.” I look over at Embry, who is looking at me with wide eyes and slowly turns his head towards Hulk.

“Run.” *beat drops* and he takes off while Hulk sprints away going outside.

“Did he just call you Ms. Blunt?”

“Yeah, I kind of like it,” I say, not a bad name. Better than Bitch, but still. “I take it as a compliment.”

“What? How?” I hear an ‘oh God’ coming from Bella who knows why I like it.

“Because, a blunt makes people happy, hallucinate, and is secretive…by law in some states. It’ll trip you out and your reaction would be unknown. All of which is how I inspire to be every day. A fucking blunt bitch.” I smile.

Masterlist

[bigbrotherlouis]

for director’s cut: the raleigh/airport scene in ‘i can’t find nothin’...’ if you would like to!!!!

ANGELA you’re gonna make me talk about sex scenes on main?! let’s DO IT

(director’s cut meme)

andrei understands, on some level, why they have to fly commercial, (i’m always going to make players fly commercial in fic if i can. direct action.)   even with a job like theirs, but in practicality, when he’s wandering around the raleigh airport at six am after their flight out is delayed, he doesn’t.

marty’s laughing at him in the way that means he’s trying to be subtle about it, but andrei’s too grumpy to care. (this was for la.) it’s too fucking early and the line for coffee is too fucking long.

“it’s too early,” he whines. marty flips over the book in his hands to read the back cover.

“boo fuckin’ hoo, bud.”

“i’m tired.” and again, in russian, “я устал.”

“не— не— i don’t care,” (i couldn’t remember how to phrase this properly and i didn’t want to look it up, plus it’s funny) marty snaps back. “it’s your own fault for watching tv until one in the morning.”

“it was gossip girl,” he mutters. “important american culture.” (in one of my transition workshops where we learned to handle moving countries, we watched mean girls as an example of american culture. true story.)

“uh huh, and degrassi is exactly how canadian high school was like.” (didn’t like the flow on this sentence but i couldn’t figure out how else to phrase it. oh well.)

andrei is, like, ninety percent sure marty didn’t finish high school in canada, but he’s not willing to take the chance that he’s wrong and get teased about it. “please, can we go to starbucks now? давай, давай.” [let’s go, let’s go] (translation is always a struggle, and even more so when it’s a different alphabet like russian. i decided to include translations when context isn’t immediately clear for the reader’s comfort. also, this is something my family does-- use a different language when we want to stress something, like svechy stressing that he wants to leave)

“talking in russian won’t get me to go any faster, svechy,” marty says, placid for the early morning, and shoves a book into andrei’s hands. “here. read this and distract yourself.”

“i don’t read until i awake.” (svechy’s syntax was hard for me to write, because i want it to be clear, true to character, and respectful all at once which is hard to balance. it’s why svech’s grammar can sometimes seem a little inconsistent-- sometimes, i chose respect and readability over true to characterization. also, transliteration of accents can make people seem childish or dumb which is absolutely not what i want!)

“sucks to suck.”

andrei grumbles under his breath, a mixture of russian and english and some of sebastian’s favourite swedish (this should be finnish. oops.) curses thrown in there too, absently drumming his fingers on the cover of the book he’s still holding. marty is paying him no attention, which almost bothers him as much as the lack of caffeine does.

he’s cocking his head to read the spines of the books in the airport store when he feels the heat of someone step behind him, too close for politeness, and he’s whirling before he can even really think about it. (there really aren’t a lot of places spies can meet up by accident without getting too repetitive, especially in something that’s supposed to be silly and short, but an airport felt plausible.)

“whoa,” says joel, stepping back out of andrei’s elbows. “easy there.”

“joel?”

“in the flesh,” he says with a grin, and andrei’s thinking about how twice is a coincidence but three times is a pattern when (this is me lampshading their constant meetups because i didn’t feel like expounding on it LOL)— “is that twilight?”

“i— what?”

“the book you’re reading.”

andrei looks down at his hands and then scowls in the general direction of the shelves. fucking marty. (this is the whole reason they’re in the bookstore. for me to make this joke about svech holding twilight.)

joel tips his head to the side and grins wider. “didn’t peg (haha peg) you for a vampire guy, but i can see it. wait, fuck, are you from transylvania?” (apologies to americans but this is a little jab at your general geography abilities)

“no, not in in russia,” he says absently. “siberia, yes. transylvania, no. why you here?”

“well, i just like to lurk around airports for fun. you see interesting people like this.”

“really.”

joel snorts. “no, i have a flight, dumbass. i’m a business bitch.” (my rule of thumb for writing joel’s dialogue is to think of the most ridiculous thing i can imagine a person saying in any given circumstance and then assigning him that line.)

“a business bitch?”

“yeah, dude. makin’ money moves n’shit.”

“you’re not following me?” andrei asks, aiming for teasing, pretending it’s not a real question. (more lampshading. i was lazy.) joel makes his eyes go wide and innocent, and mostly doesn’t succeed.

“andrew,” he says, outraged. “are you accusing me of being a stalker?”

“yes.”

“oh, so you’re definitely team edward. (this joke fell into my lap) i see how it is. can’t a bro say hi to his bro in an airport, especially after getting a decent brojob the last time they saw each other?”

andrei mouths the word brojob (i crack up every time this term is used and joel would absolutely say it) and then shakes his head. “no.”

“tough crowd. what are you doing here, buddy?”

“waiting for marty to finish so we can go to starbucks. too early and he is too slow.”

“yeah?” joel looks over at where marty is now examining the overpriced souvenirs with a very careful air, taking them off the shelves and putting them gently back. (i was very into this image) “wanna go stand in line with me?” (high romance there, bee)

strictly speaking, marty and andrei are supposed to be together when travelling, just in case someone gets snatched. it’s happened before, but andrei really, really wants something to drink before they fly out to fucking vancouver, or wherever they’re going. he can’t even remember. besides, if joel was going to snatch him, he would’ve done it earlier, in the hotel when andrei was fucked out and happy. he shrugs. (listen. i didn’t want to do any worldbuilding because it was a fun au so i did the bare minimum.)

“sure. marty, i go to stand in line,” he yells and marty waves a hand without looking up. the line stretches down the hallway, too many people patiently waiting for a rush. (i’m so familiar with this and it makes me sad just writing about it) andrei can’t fault them; he’s tired too, which is why he doesn’t realise that joel’s pulling him towards the bathrooms instead of the coffee shop, pushing him into the family stall and shoving the door closed. (i’m gonna be honest: i have absolutely no idea why i made this a sex scene. like none. i remember being halfway through and being like “....i’m writing?? airport sex??” but i don’t remember why i decided it was a good idea.)

for a second, andrei thinks this is when he gets kidnapped and killed, a rival taking him out in the crowded airport where no one can see. the bulgarian maneuver would’ve been a lot less conspicuous, but oh well. (this is referring to the bulgarian assassins who killed a journalist in the 80s? i think? with a poison-tipped umbrella and i’m just now realising that’s probably not common knowledge)

instead, joel clicks the lock in place and presses up close, plastered to the front of andrei.

“wha—” says andrei, but it’s swallowed up in joel’s mouth, swallowed up in the kiss that joel gives him. he kisses back, of course he does, because it’s a fucking good kiss. joel hums, coaxing his mouth open for a minute and then biting on his lower lip before pulling away. he doesn’t go far, hands skimming down andrei’s body until he drops to his knees on the dirty bathroom floor.

“we are in a toilet,” andrei hisses. “in an airport.” (svech has the practical response)

joel shrugs, giving him the biggest shit-eating grin as he undoes his belt. (joel is never not going to be smug) “guess you have to be fast, then. besides, i owe you one.”

technically, he still got off last time, even if it was pretty basic, it’s not like andrei’s going to say no, not when joel is looking so eager and mischievous.

“don’t make too much noise,” instructs joel, (i realised after i posted the fic that both blowjobs start with someone giving instructions and i’m gonna say it’s because it’s a literary parallel and not because i don’t know how to transition into sexual acts) and then he’s got his mouth on andrei’s dick and andrei can’t think of anything else to say. he bangs his head against the door and clamps a hand over his mouth, digging his fingers of his other hand into the wood behind him.

joel is good enough that andrei’s not going to last long, not like this, getting off on the secrecy of it all. (read: i just didn’t want to write a lot. but also i think svechy has an exhibitionist streak in him and joel definitely does) it’s a tiny bit shameful in the way that makes him groan into his palm, makes him rock his hips into joel’s hot mouth. joel just hums around andrei’s dick and that’s— okay, that’s a lot. andrei’s gonna get a splinter under his nails from digging so hard, or maybe he’s gonna die on the spot, or like something because joel pulls off to just go right back in again and fuck. (fun fact! i’ve never had sex i don’t know what i’m writing)

“fuck,” he hisses through the meat of his hand. “fuck!”

it’s too loud, probably, and joel’s eyes flick up to his with a warning.

“sorry,” andrei breathes. joel pinches his thigh, sharp enough to sting, and embarrassingly, that’s what makes him come with a noise between a breath and a whine.

“baller,” (joel pick something less sexy to say i dare you) joel says smugly when andrei comes back to earth, enough of a douche move that andrei can’t help but roll his eyes. he flicks joel on the cheek.

“you suck.”

he grins. “well, yeah. obviously.” (low hanging fruit but he’d say it so i wrote it)

“idiot,” andrei mutters and then tugs on joel’s shoulders until he stands up, pulls him in until he can nudge at joel’s jaw with his nose. “i help you?”

joel shakes his head, his hair tickling the side of andrei’s cheek. “nah, i like it when you owe me. hey, does it count as being part of the mile high club if we’re still on the ground?” (i was literally in the middle of posting this fic to ao3 before i realised i had not made a mile high joke which was unacceptable. typed it right into the text box)

“no?”

“damn. it’s on my bucket list.”

“you so weird,” andrei tells him, not managing to keep the fondness out of his voice, and then yawns so hard his jaw cracks. “i’ll pay you back with a drink.”

“oh my god,” says joel and then pinches andrei in the side so he twitches. “i just gave you the best airport blowjob—”

“only airport blowjob.”

“the best fucking airport blowjob of your life, and you’re thinking about drinks? fuckin’ ridiculous, andrew.”

“not andrew, yo-el.” (this is svech getting back at joel as best he can. trying to give it as good as he gets it. establishing banter!!)

“sure, bro,” joel mumbles and andrei shoves at him so he can get his pants back on, fumbling with the door. “next time better be fuckin’ phenomenal. you owe me big time.”

“excuse me, you said it was payback. we equal.”

“maybe i changed my mind,” joel says with a grin, bumping him with his hip.

“maybe i disappear forever,” he replies, halfway between teasing and halfway to serious. joel reaches up to fix his snapback (this is also for la.) and shrugs.

“nah, you’re too sweet to do that.”

“i’m not sweet.”

“uh huh, bro. keep tellin’ yourself that shit.”

the line’s gone down, incredibly, and they’re close enough to the counter that andrei has to start thinking about what to order. he should probably get something for marty, or risk getting whined at all flight.

“yo,” says joel when they’re two people away from the barista. “you got digits?”

andrei hesitates and then holds up his hands, wriggling his fingers. “uh. yes?” (it’s probably more in character for real life joel to ask for instagram instead but this joke made me laugh so much that i couldn’t bear to leave it out. also it’s a little fun second language moment)

joel blinks at him for a long second and then breaks out into a wide smile, shaking his head. “nah, not those. i mean, like, a phone number.”

“i don’t have a phone,” he mutters and then pulls one out of his pocket. (YES this is a tumblr post ripoff but svech wasn’t just going to give it up so easily so in it went) “okay, give.”

he dutifully types out the sequence joel rattles off and then sends a smiley face to the number when joel makes him text.

“cool. now we can text instead of ambushing each other in public.”

“that not me,” andrei tells him. “all you.”

“you’re jumpy and it’s cute.”

“i’ll delete your number. block it.” he warns and joel waves a hand.

“yeah, yeah,” he says cheerfully and then leans over to tell the barista what he wants to drink. it’s the most ridiculous sugary concoction, hardly any coffee, and andrei stares at him in horror. (this is projection for my horror at some of the things i’ve seen in american coffee shops. that’s just. so much sugar. also prime chirping opportunity to show their personalities and dynamic a little)

“you gonna drink that?” he asks and joel frowns a little. “is just sugar. candy.”

“yeah, so? it tastes so good.”

“you not gonna have teeth.” he orders two cold brews and pays. “you gonna die early from sugar.”

“somehow,” joel says with a sparkle in his eye, “i don’t think it’s gonna be the sugar that’ll nerf me in the end.” (minor foreshadowing here! also lmao @ the thought of joel saying nerf) 

he gets his vanilla bean java chip unicorn whatever frappuccino— literally, what the fuck— and takes a satisfied sip.

“disgusting,” says andrei. “no more kissing for you.”

“aw, bud, how am i gonna practice? you said i needed it.” (it’s not stated in the fic but joel learned how to flirt from watching tk and patty and i think it shows) 

“lost cause,” he tells him airily. he’s about to suggest something— he’s not even sure what— when someone appears over joel’s shoulder.

“farabee,” the guy says. he looks stern, but that might be the impressive beard. or the death glare he’s levelling andrei’s way. “where the fuck have you been?”

joel brandishes his drink. “caffeinating it up, g. stayin’ alert and awake.” (real life joel has said this at least once to claude, and i will stand by that statement)

g’s frown gets deeper. “we’re going to miss our flight.”

“nah, we’ve got time— oh, shit. yeah, we gotta bounce, bruh, but i’ll catch you later? text me.” (inelegant departure but my goal was to not overthink things in this fic, like i’m prone to do, so i left it) he almost literally get pulled away by his elbow, towed by his ginger friend through the airport so he can enthusiastically wave his goodbye.

“well,” marty says out of nowhere, reaching for his cold brew and making andrei jump. “there’s good news and bad news.”

“okay.”

“the good news is that he’s cute and somehow into your stupid face.” he takes a long drink, conscious that andrei is about to hit him for making him wait and enjoying it very much. (he’s dramatic and also i wanted to draw out the surprise a little) andrei needs new teammates.

“the bad news?” he prompts.

“the bad news,” repeats marty, grimacing. “the bad news is that he’s definitely in the same line of work as us.”([john mulaney voice] the other shoe just dropped.)

everything in andrei’s head grinds to a stop. “uh. what?”

“i recognize his handler. giroux, french canadian division.” (i’m gonna work g into fic when i can bc i love him)

“joel’s american,” he says absently and marty takes another drink, shrugging.

“so philly’s an international cooperation team. (this was my way of making the international aspect of the spy teams make sense, and also to not have this be enemies-to-lovers, as much as i love that trope) can’t imagine that ever happening.” he gives svech a look which, yes, andrei knows they work together because of a treaty or whatever, but still. he wants marty to be wrong about joel, for so many reasons.

mainly because he doesn’t like feeling like he’s been conned, not when he’s so good at doing the conning, and this is a big one. (it’s not my fic if there’s not at least a little angst!)

“fuck,” he says glumly. marty pats him on the shoulder.

“well,” he says. “at least he’s cute.” (marty’s trying to show his support for svech here! he just wants good things for his friend :)))

that was so fun to do, thank you so much for asking! ily!! <3 <3 <3

[docholligay]

The Mind of an Eagle, the Heart of a Dove: Part One of Two

Hello all! This is part one of a fic sponsored by @katrani, so anyone who wants to enjoy some fine Pharah screwing up but being determined action please let her know! Part two is next month, and from Mercy’s perspective, instead. 2500 words thank you for reading!! 

Pharah did the things she was meant to do. The things she had been born for. This was her guiding light, to uphold the principles she had sworn herself to and to do it fully and without hesitation. It made life easier, when you had a guideline. When there is no question over the correct course, life falls into place. Less messy.

Given that she had simply continued to do these things, she struggled to understand why Mercy had simply made her coffee and stormed out of the apartment that morning, without even telling Pharah where she was going. Mercy had barely looked at her since yesterday, save for a few sniping questions and a slammed book in the reading nook.

And Pharah could not imagine why. She knew she was given to say the wrong thing in her desire for precision, but it was so unlike Mercy to simply be angry. Mercy often gently told her when she was too rough or too direct, when she had been insensitive to someone’s sore spot. Even Mercy’s own. But Pharah had said nothing she imagined would be hurtful, and indeed, after the rescue yesterday, there had been little to be said, comparing bruises and eating Indian takeout at Winston’s until they dropped off to go home and sleep.

Mercy was so obviously furious with her, and Pharah could not divine the reason.

She sighed heavily. If she asked Tracer, all Tracer would give her that look of amusement and pity, and say Pharah might try asking Mercy, instead of her. It would not be an unfair thing to say. Tracer was many things, but she was rarely unfair.

But she could not explain to Tracer that she felt she should not need to ask Mercy what was wrong. She knew so well, after the years they had been together, how Mercy’s feelings went, the things that made her happy or sad, and how rare it was of her to be angry. Mercy generally considered anger a vice, and not a virtue, and rarely gave in to it.

Pharah looked around the quiet and empty apartment, the one they had so carefully chosen together, the location and decor all researched and checked again, the long days they’d painted every room.

Tracer has a gift with people you do not.

It pained her to say it, but the thought was true. There were reasons far beyond her experience and rank that Tracer had been her natural choice for co-commander of Overwatch. Where Pharah was regimented, Tracer was flexible. Where Pharah was dependable, Tracer was nimble. Where Pharah was commanding, Tracer was affable.

It was silly, Pharah would often say, that Tracer was ever jealous of her, but she never added that she often felt jealous of Tracer.

It did no good to dwell on this situation, on Mercy’s anger, on her own confusion, on the knowledge that a tiny British bouncy ball might be her only savior. Pharah did the right thing, and because Pharah did the right thing, she would swallow the ember of her own pride, feel it burn all the way down, and ask Tracer what she might have done.

Mercy was worth burning for.

___

The walk to the office from the apartment was mercifully brief, one of the many reasons they had selected it out of a multitude of options, but it gave her time to reflect on all the things she had said and done. The conflict had gone well enough, as much as could be expected, with little property damage and no civilian casualties. Even the team simply had a few bruises and cuts, Winston with a graze on his arm, the worst injury anyone could lay claim to. The dinner afterward had been the usual gathering in Winston’s home, more secure than the rest, until they felt the danger had reasonably passed and Talon was licking their wounds.

Mercy had pulled away from her that night. Had glowered at her, and snapped, and Pharah had seen tears in her eyes. When she’d asked what was wrong, Mercy had shaken her head, and drawn her shawl over her shoulders, and hurried home, alone, telling Pharah not to follow her.

Pharah ran the situation over and over again in her mind, but every time she tried to remember the words, all she could see were the tears in Mercy’s eyes, the way she pulled her shoulder away from Pharah’s, and these hieroglyphics held no meaning for her but sorrow.

The door creaked as she opened it, the bright tap tap tap of computer keys greeting her, accompanied by the fierce bubble of a water kettle and the cheerful hum of the office occupant.

“You were bloody brilliant last night, love,” Tracer did not wait for the door to close behind Pharah, “what with your swoop down into the middle of all them omnics. I mean, bloody stupid, but bloody brilliant,” she paused for a moment, “say it’s a rather me sort of maneuver, but you was the one what done it, not even waiting one bit for us to catch up with you, right?” She shook her head and grinned out the window, “Bloody brilliant, so it is.”

“Good morning.” She turned to hang up her coat immediately, keeping her voice neutral, afraid that Tracer would notice, even as she planned to ask. “I am pleased to see you are working on the press--”

“What’s the matter, Fareeha?” Her voice was kind but inquisitive, leaned forward over her desk now, her head cocked as she looked at Pharah.

Tracer’s mind paid attention to everything. Snippets of conversations she wasn’t having, the pattern on the wallpaper behind someone’s head, the smell of kebab down the block, and the downside to all of this was that her mind occasionally missed whatever it was Pharah was saying in all of the traffic.

Except, of course, when Pharah did not want her to notice something.

Pharah sighed, still facing the wall. She had known Tracer for years now, knew that once she had latched onto some perceived problem, she would refuse to let go until you had told her or she’d puzzled it out for herself. She was tenacious to a fault, and while this was useful in battle, it was less so standing in the office, wishing that she could simply ask Tracer, wishing that she could escape from the situation.

“It is nothing.” She lied, turning toward her desk.

“Oh come on--”

“Yes,” she turned back to face Tracer, to face the difficulty. She had come here to ask Tracer’s counsel, and here she was avoiding it. Mercy deserved better. “I--I would like to ask your advice. It is a personal matter.”

Tracer said nothing, something Pharah always claimed to want but never seemed to settle into easily.

“Angela,” She took a breath, at attention, hands behind her back, hating everything coming out of her mouth, hating that she had to say it to anyone, “She seems very upset with me. I cannot,” she gave a small sigh, afraid for a moment that she would break, that Tracer would see just how concerned she was, “I have tried to find a reason, and it eludes me. You have known Angela for many years, and you have a good sense of people. If you know the reason, I would appreciate knowing.”

“Aw yeah,” Tracer said, nodding, “last night. I mean, it ‘appens,” she chuckled, “Number of times Win’s near gone bloody mental over me, that ‘e’s not just told me to get stuffed is the miracle of me life, it is.”

Pharah stared at her. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“The Omnics. Last night.” Tracer leaned forward, eyes wide and nodding toward Pharah.

“We defeated them.”

“Right. You was in a real scrape, though, right love?”

Pharah shrugged. She had jumped into the middle of the group of omnics, that was true, but she knew her team was behind her, or would be soon and while it was risky, it was not, to Pharah’s mind, utterly careless. Innocent people could have been hurt, and it was Pharah’s duty to stop those things from happening. What she was born for.

She sat down at her desk and looked over at Tracer, in that same terrible silence.

“There was nothing in my manuver to be criticized.”

“You know,” Tracer looked out the window a moment, licked the edge of her lip, and began. “Crashed me glider when I was, must ‘ave been thirteen. Young. Just got me glider’s license. We was out over a field, and I, well, you know ‘ow I can be, right? Get a bit of the wind in me face, and I just--”

“Tracer.”

Tracer nodded, called back to the scene. “Right. So I’m a bit careless, I crash me glider, and its a bad crash, love, broke me collarbone, few ribs, me wrist. Bad bump to the ‘ead. “She indicated each spot on her body with a point of her finger, as if Pharah would not know otherwise,and then paused, looking off for a moment. “Now as I think on it, think it’s the worst crash I’ve ever been in. One where I got ‘urt the worst, at least. Well, except for, of course,” she tapped the edge of her CA, “this. Crawled out the wreck, rested me back against the fuselage. Waited.”

“I am fascinated to hear what this has to do with anything other than your congenital inability to employ caution” She drummed a pen against the desk, both distracted and annoyed.

“God, but you accuse me of ‘aving no bloody patience. So, me dad comes after me, right? He finds me and god, I’ve never seen ‘im so bloody angry, before or since.” Tracer shook her head and snorted, “‘Owled and screamed at me, ‘e did, told me I’s irresponsible and what the bloody fucking ‘ell was my problem, et cetera and all that. And let me tell you this, Fareeha Amari, that crash bloody well ‘urt but it was me dad what made me cry. ‘E did, ‘e yelled at me so ‘ard I burst into tears. Convinced ‘e hated me, I’s absolutely crushed, felt just awful for ruining the glider, all of those things. Cried the whole way to emergency.”

“Yes.” Pharah was never the best at active listening. Luckily, Tracer didn’t seem to mind.

“Later, in ‘ospital, me dad apologizes to me, says ‘e never should have said those things, and ‘e was so, so sorry, and ‘e loved me so much, and ‘e wasn’t angry over the glider at all.”

“Thought I’d lost you,’ was all he said, and that,” She smacked her hand against the desk and pointed to Pharah,”that was the moment, through this ‘aze of medication, I realized I’d scared the bloody ‘ell out of me dad. ‘E thought I’s dead, and when I wasn’t, well, ‘e ‘ad to be cross with someone for tearing ‘is ‘eart out, right? Protective, like.”

Pharah considered for a moment, looking down at the pen in her hand, rolling it over and over “Are you saying Mercy is not speaking to me because she loves me?”

“Oh see, you can take a parable as it’s meant!”

“I did not have so much as a broken rib.”

“But,” Tracer leaned back in her chair, apparently pleased with her pursuit of hidden knowledge, “you did rather fly out the frying pan into the fire, right? Not a thing you generally do love, that’s me job, so it is,” she gave a playful scowl and jumped back to sitting, “And don’t think I don’t notice you encroaching.” She looked up at the planes on the ceiling, “Ang ‘as ‘ad more than ‘er share of people come and gone. Bit ‘ard for ‘er to imagine you.” She tossed a pen at one of the planes, and it spun on its metal wire. “Not something you ‘ave to think about, what with the rules of engagement. No shooting the medic and all.”  

Pharah knew it was true, even as Tracer said it. It was so easy to forget that Mercy had lost so much. She did not wall herself off from the world, had never become bitter or hard, she simply took each heartache, each lost team member or civilian into her heart and let it hurt her, again and again. And here Pharah had willingly put herself in harm’s way.

Had it really been necessary? She told herself it had been, that if she had hesitated, an innocent bystander might have been lost. But looking back now, that didn’t seem to be true. At least, she could not recall it. What she did recall was the joy and excitement she felt at diving into the fray, the way she’d smiled when she thought about how they would not be talking about Tracer’s daring, but Pharah’s, the logical and confident leader, now also the daredevil.

It had been selfish and vainglorious, and Pharah felt hot shame rise to her cheeks.

“She loves you, Fareeha, she’ll move on from it. Winston always does with me.”

“No.” Pharah shook her head.

“She will, love, don’t--”

Pharah raised her hand. “What I mean to say is, I will not let that be the end of it. I owe her,” she rose to her feet and tugged at her shirt to straighten it, “my truest apology. Do you never apologize?”

Tracer gave a smirk and a shrug. “If I’s to apologize, I ‘ave to think I won’t do it again. And I will. It’s part of me job description, part of me family line, part of, well, me, I suppose.”

“But not me,” Pharah nodded to her, “Selfishness masked as heroism was my mother’s game, and I will not allow it to be mine. I am no flank, no dogfighter, and I should not behave as if I am. Thank you, Tracer.”

She headed to the door, unsure of exactly what she would say to Mercy, or how she would say it, how she would soothe the secret hurts in her heart, the ones that Pharah had caused with her own need for attention, the sort of thing she had called out so many times in team members as unnecessary and childish.

The greatest battles Pharah had ever known were not the Omnics or Talon or anyone she had fought with Helix. No, she had been well prepared for all of those battles, her mind found the holds and worked a pattern to the top of the wall, no matter how high or how strong.

It was only on these fields of love and of emotion that she found herself unable to even hold the weapon. Her mother, her aunts, the people she had known and loved in her mother’s Overwatch, they had taught her to shoot and to study, to grow and to fight, but never the small and soft things, the things Pharah needed now most of all.

So she would work. Practice did not make perfect, but it made progress. She would think of what to say, think of what to do, and show Mercy that she would hold Mercy’s heart in her mind most of all.

Pharah did the things she was meant to do. The things she had been born for. And Mercy was her guiding light.

[blessyourheartdharps]

Just A Talk || Dani&Abel

who: Dani Harper & Abel Hayward @hayabel

when: Wednesday - 07/25/18 around 1230/1 pm

where: Abel’s apartment - kitchen

what: Dani and Abel talk about what happened the night before

notes: triggers include depression, grief/death, alcohol use

Dani had left Max's place and started on her journey home. On her way she made a quick stop at McDonald's for sweet tea and something loaded with more grease than she wanted to think about. It tasted good, that's what mattered right? Her head was still reeling from just how stupid she'd been by texting Santana, which didn't help the anger that was still bubbling under the surface over Abel walking out on her the night before. He was her best friend, one of her only friends, and she hated seeing him be miserable, especially when they'd gone out to forget. 

Unlocking the door, she slipped in. "You up yet? I've got McDonald's." She called out as she headed into the kitchen. She wasn't nearly as hungover as she had been expecting to be this particular morning, which was nice, but she had a feeling Abel wasn't fairing nearly as well.

Last night should've went down differently, but he ended up leaving because he didn't want to ruin the mood even more. Which, he didn't understood why he had became depressed and moody. After he texted Marley when he woke up around noon, he jumped into the shower and just let the water ran down his body, trying to make sense of everything that happened. 

He turned off the water, he grabbed the towel that was hanging up and dried himself before he wrapped it around his waist. He glanced at his phone,  seeing if his parents texted him about Isabella but nothing and let out a sigh when he heard Dani. 

Abel turned off the fan, headed out of the bathroom and yawned. "Yeah, I’m up. What did you get?" He asked as he walked into the kitchen and looked into the bag of food.

Dani looked back at Abel as he came into the kitchen. "An unholy amount of chicken nuggets and fries," she said as she began to pull the shirt off her back. It was soaked in sweat, between a nightmare she'd had and the walk home. Being free of it she draped it over her arm and turned her attention fully to Abel. "So, you want to eat before, during, or after I tear you a new one for last night?" She placed a hand on her hip and tilted her head. She really hoped he chose before so she could grab a shower, but it didn't entirely matter to her in the moment.

Abel nodded when he saw them and looked for the of sweet & sour sauce. He glanced over at her after he thought about it. "If you're going to slap me, go ahead and get over with it. I deserve it and I shouldn’t have been like that, I’m owning up to my shit and can always write a cute I’m sorry card and send sorry I’m asshole balloons to Max's place." He replied as he took a sip of sweet tea. "Also, if I knew why my mood shifted during drinks, I would tell you but I don't know why, aight? Don't know why I became distant or became an asshole. So go ahead and rip me a new one, I don't care."

Dani sighed as Abel spoke, taking the shirt off her arm and twisting it tight and then whipping it at him, the shirt slapping him across the abdomen. "While I'm sure he'd find it amusing, I do think it's unnecessary." She looked at him, wanting so bad to still be angry at him, to rage and fight, but if there was one thing that cooled her jets, it was someone feeling sorry. "You're grieving and stressed and alcohol is a depressant. Had we stayed here last night we'd have been drunk and crying into our ice cream. It's why I wanted to go out. I was hoping it'd help." She walked up to him, draping her shirt over her shoulder. "You want to know why I was angry? Because you acted like you being upset was the worst thing that could have happened to my night. You acted like just because you weren't okay it would bring me down, you know what brought me down? You leaving."

Abel let out an 'ow' before he glanced over at her. "Okay, I'll just give it to you then." He replied as he looked at her. He turned so his body was facing her and leaned against the counters. He opened up his mouth, closed it when she started to talk again and  swallowed hard as he tried not to cry as he looked down at his feet. "I know that you had a shit ton of things going on, I knew me being sad and depressed last night wasn’t the key thing that you need. We went out because you needed a distraction from being held up in here. Granted yes, we would've been crying into our ice creams because we sometimes do that." He paused for a bit and let out a sigh. "I’m sorry for leaving last night, I’m sorry for bringing you down by doing that. The only thing I was focusing on was that, you were having fun last night with Max and I didn't want to ruin it and I guess I did that anyway by leaving."

She shook her head, rolling her eyes a bit. "Again, amusing, but unnecessary."  She wrapped her arms around him and rested her chin on his chest so she was looking up at him. "But you neglected what you needed by focusing on what I wanted and what you thought I needed. Yes, we went out for me, but I never wanted it to be all about me. You're my best friend and I hate seeing you upset like that, but that doesn't mean I want you to leave when you do." Dani smiled at him. "Apology accepted, but please know I'm entirely blaming you for the fact drunk me texted Santana, cause you would have made sure I didn't do it."

Abel wrapped his arms around her when he felt her arms around him and let out a sigh. "I figured it would be for the best if I do leave, instead of making a scene right there and then." He replied softly as he glanced down at her and gave her a small smile before he raised an eyebrow.  "Shit, next time I'll take your phone with me and make sure you don't get it back."

"Darlin', all you had to do was pull me aside for a min and talk to me, but you didn't. You made up your mind and left. All that ever does is make people worry 'bout you." She looked away, resting her head on his chest in a more comfortable position. "It's not all bad. I just needed someone to talk to after Max passed out and her number was there. I mean we got into a weird, important conversation which I fuckin' hate, but I was drunk enough not to care. Hey, it could be worse, I could have texted Angela."

Abel tried to blink away the tears but one escaped and rolled down his cheek as he rubbed her back. "I’m sorry." He whispered. He wiped away the tear as he listened to her and glanced down at her. "Yeah, which reminds me. Gimme your phone." He held out his hand and knew that he had to do this.

Dani looked up at Abel and nodded a bit. "Apology accepted." She then pulled away from him, eyebrow raised. "Hell no. Tell me why you want it."

"Thank you." Abel said as he looked down at her. He raised an eyebrow as he kept his hand out. "To rename Santana in your phone and I’m sure Angela is blocked, but gotta make sure."

Dani crossed her arms over her chest and looked at him. "Even drunk me knows Angela's number by heart so it doesn't matter, but her number and contact and all of her texts are gone. As for Santana, no. It's fine. It's not like I was typical drunk texting. I started talking about Max cause he's her fucking cousin and then the conversation changed. She asked about my drinkin’ habits and I made a snide comment about Angela and she asked if she needed to commit murder."

Abel coped her movement and looked down at her as he leaned against the counter more to look at her better. "So this entire time, Max's Santana's cousin? Well shit." He replied as he moved his arms so he can propped himself onto the counter carefully and crossed his legs over each one. "Oh so is she gonna pretend she didn't break up with you for her ex? 'Cause that's not gonna roll with me."

Dani shrugged. "Apparently. " Dani rolled her eyes, sighing at his words. "She's apologized more than she ever needed to. I was over her before the end of that year. Sure, being back I'm hit with feelings and shit but that's not just because of her." Unfolding her arms, she stuck them in her back pockets. "She wants to try being friends, I'm not against that. She cares, or something."

Abel listened to her, slowly nodded and looked at her. "As along she doesn’t hurt you, that's all I’m sayin'." He replied as he walked past her and headed into his room. He shut his door, walked towards his dresser and grabbed a pair of underwear. He slid his underwear on, slipped a pair of basketball shorts and hung his towel once he was in the bathroom.

Dani sighed, nodding. "She won't." While she couldn't guarantee Santana wouldn't, she had a feeling she wouldn't. Santana wanted to fix things, that wasn't a bad thing, was it? As Abel left, Dani slipped out of her shoes and jeans, digging through her suitcase in hopes of finding something decent to wear after her shower. She'd text Santana after she showered.

[lyricalt]

[ovw] Triple Threat - (1/3)

Rating: T Relationship: Recall Genji/Blackwatch Genji/Young Genji. (mcgenji^3 later) Note: Written for @badlyplanned. Call it Day 7 for McGenji Week: Fanart of Fanart, though I actually didn’t know they had drawn THIS also for Day 7, and I accidentally saw it beforehand. But Al has been wanting McGenji^2 for a while and for some reason I thought they meant McGenji^3?? I am bad at numbers and don’t know what those are.

There’s no plot. Just a lot of Genjis. Thanks. 

[Part 1] | [Part 2] | tbc

They say disasters come in threes. There are three of him.

Genji doesn’t know how it happens, but there hadn’t been enough time for reflection once he starts corralling two other—loud, protesting, confused—bodies into his room, locking the door and on the verge of keeping them there until they do something convenient, such as disappear.

No such thing happens. Genji feels as if all of Zenyatta’s teachings has come to a head for this very moment, as if a karmic force of the universe has decided to test him, forcing him confront his past and have some enormous life-changing self-revelation about himself.

But so far the only revelation Genji has is that his past selves are a pain. A huge pain. He has a headache. He doesn’t need any mysterious spiritual force to tell him what he has already known for years.

The youngest of him is by far the most pleasant, in a particular fake and calculating way Genji is very familiar with. For the sake of his sanity, Genji has taken to calling the youngest one Sparrow, an old nickname that sets a sardonic smile to the twenty-five year old Genji’s face and an immediate scowl to Blackwatch—the second Genji in the room, only older by three years and harboring an entire different demeanor.

Genji, by virtue of being the eldest and in the correct timeline, becomes the de-facto host. He had attempted to explain the future to his past selves, but neither of them had seemed interested. Genji isn’t very surprised because: one, he is acutely aware of Sparrow’s cheerily nihilistic outlook on life that had landed him half-murdered in the first place—so why worry, cyborg-san?—and two, Blackwatch’s self-absorbed bearing had been like talking to a silent wall made from sheer resentment and bitterness.

In terms of emotional turmoil and growth, Genji thinks he has done very well for himself, and his other self, and his other-other self. It’s something to be proud of. He keeps trying to keep this in mind, but it becomes very difficult to be proud of anything when Blackwatch suddenly decides to jump on Sparrow, teeth bared and voice shaking with fury.

“You have no fucking idea what’s going to happen,” snarls Blackwatch, finally snapping from Sparrow’s constant caustic remarks and lazy grins. “Stop pretending like you don’t care. Look at us. I know you’re scared.”

“I already see I don’t have much to look forward to,” Sparrow replies, shrugging. His arm moves to his side, as if toying with the idea of drawing his sword. He tips his head, green hair sweeping to the side. “You keep telling me Hanzo is going to kill me. Perhaps I should let him. Maybe then I wouldn’t have to turn into something like y-”

“Shut the fuck-”

With another shouting match set to fire off, Genji bounces to his feet, aiming a kick to Sparrow’s backside and a hard slap to the back of Blackwatch’s helmet. Maybe if he were a better person, someone with more patience and wisdom, Genji would have found another peaceful way to resolve things between the three of them, but Zenyatta’s not here to offer his advice, and Genji likes to imagine a kind of poetic tribute in deviating from Zenyatta’s teachings, just as Zenyatta had found an alternative to Mondatta’s doctrines.

Blackwatch almost rises, but Genji is faster, sweeping his leg under Blackwatch’s feet. For added effect, he does the same to Sparrow, just to wipe the beginnings of that smug smile from his face that Genji knows would only set off Blackwatch again.

Genji makes a silent promise to ask Zenyatta about non-violent conflict mediation next time.

“Ow!”

“Bastard.”

With both his younger selves on the floor, Genji crosses his arms, determined not to raise his voice, but he can’t help sounding exasperated.

“Apologize to each other! Apologize to me. Foreheads to the floor, both of you! This is my timeline and I would appreciate it if you two not ruin it.”

“Oh, if the ojisama commands,” Sparrow mutters, not bowing despite his easily accessible position from the ground.

Genji shuts his eyes and takes a mental count to three. He barely gets to one in his head before Blackwatch tackles him, full body with all his strength to join everyone on the floor in what Genji suspects is the second worst apology of his life, just following Hanzo’s.

Genji hits the ground and hears the sharp hiss of a blade. He has just enough time to think— really?—before he looks past Blackwatch drawing his sword and spies Sparrow making a casual yet sauntering break for the door.

A wave of cold fear hits Genji. He doesn’t want Sparrow out of his room. He is not sure what will happen, but an inexplicable feeling of dread imbues him with the sudden cosmic knowledge that if he lets Sparrow go right this second, he could very well doom the universe and all his timelines.

Sparrow’s hand touches the control panel to the door. Genji’s future flashes before his eyes.

He imagines the new Overwatch base on fire, Sparrow flirting with any number of people as it burns down to cinders, the impending debt of his already meager bank account, Angela’s hair going gray when she sees his horrible Blackwatch-self again, and the probability of Moira sending him persistent emails, attempting to persuade him to sell of one of his past selves for the greater good of science—and Genji thinks he might even consider it, at this point.

There are more terrible things he could think of, but Genji has never been one to stew in anxiety. Less thought, more action—Genji, for want of a better word, blacks out for a millisecond.

It’s probably not the same kind of transcendence Zenyatta goes through, but it’s the most calm he has ever felt, grabbing Blackwatch’s shoulder with one hand and flicking the faceplate off with the other.

Genji jerks Blackwatch forward and crashes their lips together, tongue working to coax Blackwatch’s mouth open, and doesn’t stop.

Because Genji knows every weakness he’s ever had, and he cannot afford to hold on to his pride without exploiting everything he has on himself—that Blackwatch has been touch-starved for years, body-conscious and miserable about everything, and Sparrow, in all his false and empty happiness, only wants to be entertained while counting down his numbered days.

Genji seizes all these sad little facts about himself, pouring everything he has into a wildly desperate and passionate kiss he is sure he has been meaning to save for someone else. He pushes that thought out of the way, clasping both of sides of Blackwatch’s stunned face with his hands.

Blackwatch stares at him, the anger in his eyes replaced for a quick moment of pure shock. His tongue darts out, absently licking the wet corner of his mouth. Genji tips his head, foreheads almost touching, but he brushes his thumbs over Blackwatch’s cheeks in the way he’s grown to like over the past few months. Blackwatch twitches back in his hands, confused, and Genji carefully slides his gaze to Sparrow, giving his youngest self a quick glance before lowering his voice for only Blackwatch to hear.

“If you miss that past body, that old part of you so much,” Genji begins quietly, “Treat him better.”

Sparrow can’t hear him, but he goes still, unused to hearing himself with such a quiet, murmuring tone. His hand wavers over the door, and Genji catches the flash of wariness in Sparrow’s stance, of wanting to run and ignore everything, before Sparrow’s expression morphs into one of blithe carelessness and an empty grin that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Interesting,” Sparrow says, meandering back to join them. He drops to a crouch next to Blackwatch, amused. “Can I try?”

Genji turns to him, giving him a look that says he’ll play the game and flirt back. It’ll make Sparrow feel better, giving the younger man a light peck on the cheek, meant to tease until Sparrow takes the initiative to deepen the kiss as if he’s had any control over the situation to begin with.

He probably would rather assume the worst of Genji, filing their actions as pathetic and sad. It’s a delicate balance between Blackwatch and Sparrow, and Genji feels on edge, caught with the need to lay everything out, all that he’s learned, or letting them go through their lives as is.

Instead, Genji reels Blackwatch in with one arm around the back of his neck, a hand sliding to Blackwatch’s side to stroke his fingers inside the sensitive areas beneath his armor. Blackwatch jumps, eyes narrowing at the invasion of space.

Genji breaks off from Sparrow, angling away so that Sparrow’s mouth trails down his neck.

“Here,” Genji says, taking Blackwatch by the wrist and placing Blackwatch’s hand over his own abdomen, beneath the grooves of his armor. He feels Blackwatch’s fingers curl over the synthetic skin, hesitant but not pulling away. Genji doesn’t smile, only gently says, “You lead me. I will touch wherever you want me to touch.”

Blackwatch looks down at that, eyes focusing on his hand over Genji’s stomach. He frowns, brow furrowing, and glances at Sparrow, unhappiness written across his drawn shoulders.

Sparrow is too busy pressing up against Genji to notice. Genji looks back at Blackwatch with a prickle of sympathy. Blackwatch truly does miss his old body, every working nerve and real patch of unscarred skin.

Genji brings him in, murmuring, “I know, I understand,” into his shoulder and feels Blackwatch’s hand slide from his stomach to Sparrow’s waist, body still more familiar to him than their cybernetic replacements.

Sparrow blinks, surprised to find Blackwatch now interested in him, but doesn’t hide his smug laugh as Blackwatch draws in for a rough, demanding kiss.

“You miss this?” Sparrow asks, stretching against Genji. His loose pants slide down to expose his hip bone and a part of the winding tattoo of his dragon.

Genji admits to himself that he misses his old body too, but saying it aloud to Sparrow would only feed the younger man’s ego and give Blackwatch the wrong impression. He brushes his lips along Blackwatch’s jaw, moving up to that spot behind his ear.

Blackwatch’s breath catches, though Genji can’t tell if it’s his doing or Sparrow being bold enough to explore Blackwatch’s chest with his mouth.

Blackwatch’s hand moves to graze over Genji’s inner thigh, thumb pressing deliberately under the armor and through the wires. Genji shudders, knocking against Sparrow, but he mirrors the same gesture, putting his fingers within Blackwatch’s cybernetics and making Blackwatch let out a gasp in return.

Sparrow’s smirk widens as he catches on.

“So like me to turn this into a game,” he says, watching them with his arms wrapped loosely around Blackwatch’s shoulders.

“If it is a game you’re looking for,” Blackwatch says, voice heating with annoyance.

Genji pushes against them both. He stops Blackwatch with another soft touch at his neck that takes him by surprise, and chastens Sparrow with a wolfish grin that makes it a very attractive challenge.

“Then start playing along.”

[Part 1] | [Part 2] | tbc

[sugarwaterradio]

How Rick Ross

Well in May forbes said this guy was worth 150 million bucks but now fitty cent doesn't have two quarters to rub together I remember reading headlines about 50 Cent's financial troubles and thinking there was something incredibly tragic about the man that released get rich or die trying' going bankrupt however on last check 50 cent was actually still alive which did make me think that maybe there was slightly more to the bankruptcy story than meets the eye in order to truly understand what happened we need to go way back to 2008 at the start of his feud with everybody's favorite wing slinging fake drug-dealing rapper Rick Ross it was actually Rick Ross that started off the beef by saying that 50 cent and looked at him some kind of way at the Beatty Awards Awards not what little kid made an expression on his face that carries disappointing me what kind of expression 50 responded saying he didn't even see Rick Ross at the awards which i think is hard to believe considering the Rick Ross weighs 350 pounds now Ricky Ross made the beef official when he released the song of mafia music which fired a few shots at 50 cent for allegedly burning down his baby mamas house January 29th 2009 and 50 cent comes out with a response to mafia music his own disc called officer Ricky the next day Rick Ross calls in to Angela Yee show and says that that response is trash and 50 has 48 hours to respond with something Feder 24 hours later well i'ma fuck your life up but fine I paid for the transcripts to your court case and now that I got you address will be on your doorstep Ricky on that same day 50 also releases the first episode of his officer Ricky cartoon series damn because I said your mama look like the Klumps a couple of days later 50 of sticking true to his promise of fucking up Rick Ross's life for fuck 50 starts out the video by saying that what you're about to see is something is a little bit more sophisticated than what we've been offering in the past which I think's a massive disservice to 50 Cent's car work I mean this video is so lowbrow it makes candy shop look like the Beethoven symphony in the video the mother of Rick Ross's child calls out rot for having rented jewelry and leased cars and he takes her first shopping whilst isn't she lovely by Stevie Wonder plays you cannot make this shit up 50 also takes the opportunity to call out Rick Ross's other baby mama for being a cool girl a few days after that Rick Ross releases the diss song kiss my pinky ring curly this song is accompanied by a music video of Rick Ross hanging out in New York with some miscellaneous goons the song also featured what felt like several hundred lyrics accusing 50 cent of being gage an allegation which seemingly becomes a big part of this beef from both sides two days after that it's the 8th of February and 50 cent is dropping more content than Netflix he puts out officer Ricky episode 2 which shows how Rick Ross got a deal from jay-z he then drops the first of a series of new comedy segments featuring a character that he's created called pimping curly curl this is basically just 50 cent wearing a curly wig while shrieking about how much of a pimp ears and threatening Rick Ross on with a knife Oh Livie without you I've got you then along with his crew g-unit 50-cent releases I'll be the shooter which features so many shout outs of different types of guns the song might as well have been recorded in TI's trunk in response to this Rick Ross essentially coffees fifties idea of the animated this video and releases his own version called gay unit workouts which I'm sure even the slowest of viewers can work out what that means this entire video is basically just calling out g-unit members for being gay it also disses 50 cent for allegedly using steroids and also for some reason Rick Ross decided that this video was the perfect place to debut his new single with John Legend magnificent over visuals of a cartoon g-unit having a three-way gangbang that same day Rick Ross dropped the diss track push him over the ledge which is basically a two minute juice freestyle mainly consisting of you guessed it oh hey he mentions one specific rumor of g-unit member Lloyd Banks being in a gay porno dick on Google which I did a lot of digging on I couldn't seem to find any evidence for that but there was one a guy that looks a little bit like Lloyd Banks appeared in a gay porno the next day 50 cent puts out a video that's probably the most menacing thing I've ever seen in a hip hop beef I mean this thing makes the story if added on look like the story of Balamory he releases the video a psychic told me this little poem / dj khaled check this shit out right it's cool I just wanted to tell you what it's like you told me your car tires gonna stare down now you know I know will you be and or will your mama house it and all your mama work it now look at sleep to make this even more spicy we later found out that the person actually filmed this was French Montana he's even seen in one of these videos wearing him this is 50 t-shirt which he can't blame on his stylist over the next month these two trade shots back and forth over disc tracks and animated videos 50 goes on to drop several more cartoons which don't just clown Rick Ross but also go after Ti DMX Suge Knight and Chris Brown but it's on March the 17th that 50 made the ultimate mistake that would eventually wind him up in bankruptcy 50 cent actually leaks a sex tape starring Rick Ross's other baby mama Brooke with an introduction of himself in character as pimp and curly and commentary throughout the entire video I personally don't think it's right or legal to show you any of that tape so what I'm going to do is I'm gonna play you some of 50s commentary over some very innocent six days after the sex tape leaked on March 23rd Rick Ross came out with a very unusual video essentially saying sorry not sorry to the gay community I heard a knife in the homosexual community I apologize I'm offering a record will openly gay artists such as City sing we all know he's gay so now all the gays good later Rick Ross drops his long-awaited album deeper than rap now the album is out and there's very little to be gained from beefing these two kind of lose interest in each other during that time fifty seems to get closer to Rick Ross's baby mama Tia helping her release her own tell-all biography but things get really Savage in November where seemingly out of nowhere fifty decides to take Rick Ross's baby mama and his kids to Floyd Mayweather's house I've got to say it's pretty painful to watch I mean it seems like 50-cent treats Ross's kids better than his own February 25th 2010 and Rick Ross's baby mama Brooke brings a court case against $for Leake in that sex tape this court case takes an entire five years to get resolved during that time the 50 and Ross beef simmers and a few things happen here and there that are quite interesting Ross publicly suffers from some seizures gunplay from Rick Ross's Maybach Music crew gets beaten up by g-unit at an award show and 50 cent is pictured wearing his Maybach music chain er of bowling alley a few days later 50 pounds Rick Ross for getting his car shot up and Rick Ross gets accused of pistol whipping his groundskeeper who is later pictured on Instagram with 50 cent five years go by and it's in July 2015 that that court case finally gets resolved and fifty loses the court order 50 to pay five million dollars to Brooke for the sex tape leaked and two million dollars in punitive damages three days after losing that case fifty Cent files for chapter 11 bankruptcy now it's important to realize that there's a big difference between filing for chapter 11 bankruptcy and filing for chapter 7 bankruptcy chapter 11 is more about reorganizing your assets so that you can then end up making the payments that you owe whereas chapter 7 is a lot more about admitting that there's no way you can pay your payments however this didn't stop Rick Ross and the whole world from clowning on 50 my first album was time Richard and I've bankrupt I guess he's 50 cent even got in on some of the action mocking the idea of him being bankrupt which actually caused him to get hauled back into court to explain himself 50 told the court that the money in the pictures and his whole lavish lifestyle was actually Fae 50 cents money woes didn't last very long by 2017 only two years after losing that court case 50 was actually able to pay off his entire 22 million dollar debt five years herb so if you think 50s broke 50 ain't broke but how the hell did 50 suddenly get all of this money to pay these debts 50 didn't just go bankrupt from losing the sextape case he'd also been in and out court with slick audio based on a dispute around the SMS audio headphones deal that he had going on 50 had originally partnered with sleek to engineer the headphones but he later left them and ended up doing a deal with somebody else slick sued him and won and he ended up owning them 17 million dollars for the development of these headphones and that to the outstanding amount that he had to pay Brooke for the sex tape lawsuit in December 2016 50 actually won a court case against the lawyers who had represented him in the original sleek audio case that he lost by winning that case against his lawyers he got 14 and a half million dollars which he then combined with his own funds of million dollars to basically pay off the entire outstanding debt and get out of bankruptcy put off the hill to that when he decided to sue the lawyers from his sex tape case as well specifically he argues that they failed to interview Rick Ross about leaking the sex tape before 50 did furthermore he claimed that there was actually a conflict of interest between an old lawyer that 50 had in 2004 and Rick Ross's current lawyer as far as I can tell that Court case is currently unresolved but what I could find was that 50 is looking for thirty two million dollars from this case even though 50 beat bankruptcy we can assume that he learned his lesson and he will never leak a sex tape ever again okay I hope you enjoyed that video make sure that you like and scribe below hit that notification bell so you can see every single time I upload and if you've been enjoying my work lately I definitely recommend that you go and check out the patreon account I've started there's some really cool benefits on there that I think you will definitely like and I would really appreciate your support so I can keep making these videos and hopefully I can upload more often thanks very much and peace out Read the full article

[theliterateape]

Judged a Total Loss by a Complete Sham

By Don Hall

This summer, as you likely know, my office has been Millennium Park. Thus, I have had little need to drive much. Taking the Blue Line every day and night, my time in my Prius has mostly been limited to moving it from legal parking spot to legal sparking spot and letting sit as long as I can without getting a street cleaning ticket or some sort of shit.

So, when I was just waking up, sitting in front of my computer with a mug of coffee, at around six o'clock on a Sunday morning and I heard, from the street, “Mr. Hall?” The last thing I expected to hear was, “Don Hall? Your car has been involved in an accident.”

It was the cops and they waited for me to come downstairs (in clothing) to take me to my legally parked car. The street side of it was a bit mashed in. Scraped up and mashed in. It turned out that the night before a drunken kid driving his mother’s SUV hit thirteen cars in his inebriated reverie. The Prius was Hit #1 making my tiny hybrid the speed bump that slowed him down thus sustaining the most damage. I live in Wicker Park. I live above one of fifty bars on the strip. It’s extraordinary this has never happened before.

I took the information on him (they caught him that night) and checked online. I had his name, his address, his mother’s name (he lived with his mother), and the insurance company (American Access) and policy number. I went to the other site and reported the accident. I tried to get ahold of their insurance company to no avail. I want to be furious at this stupid 22-year-old chimphole but I remember that pretty much all 22 year olds are kind of stupid by design. I was incredibly stupid when I was 22 and certainly had my fair share of driving while plastered (although I never wrecked a parked car or a moving car for that matter.) I want to be pissed at him but I already know that being pissed accomplishes nothing so why waste the energy?

Later that morning, Dana and I went down to see if the car could be driven. It was fine. All body damage, no glass broken. Looking at it, I thought it would be around $4K to fix it. We hopped in and I took Dana to Oak Park for a gig to see how well it still drove. To assess the damage to its drivability. Because it seemed perfectly fine the worst thing I can say is that, now, I’m driving a real beater car and, while a pain in the ass, it isn’t the end of the world. It was his fault and his insurance was going to pay for it, right?

Wrong.

We all understand why it’s rigged, right? The government steps in and requires a license for people to legally drive a vehicle. The government manages that licensing process and, despite the fact that one generally has to stand for hours in a sweaty line in order to get up to the front only to find out you have an unpaid parking ticket from 1985 that you have to pay to get your license and you can only pay in the building across town so you take another day off work to stand in another long fucking line to pay it then go back to get your license, you still get the privilege to legally drive.

Oh, but then there’s the city stickers for Chicago:

During negotiations for Chicago’s 2012 budget, newly elected Mayor Rahm Emanuel and then-City Clerk Susana Mendoza agreed to hike the price of what was already one of the priciest tickets vehicle owners can get in the city. Citations for not having a required vehicle sticker rose from $120 to $200.

The increase, approved unanimously by the City Council, was pitched by Mendoza as an alternative to raising the price of stickers as well as generating much-needed revenue from "scofflaws."

Debt from this one type of ticket swelled, compounded by late penalties and collection fees. Collectively, drivers now owe the city some $275 million for sticker tickets issued since 2012.

SOURCE

The government also requires insurance as well, but hand that process over to private business with little regulation and those businesses are there to make money. So they make money telling you they’ll pay you back if something bad happens to your car. When something bad happens to your car, these companies often (and I mean often) find arcane ways to cheat you from the bargain of insurance.

For the record, American Access Insurance is no better than scanning an old insurance card and photoshopping new dates on it. After calling their office eight times in three days and listening to bad easy jazz for longer than my brain could handle, I turned to my insurance: Progressive.

I’ve had no problems with Progressive. I’m a Diamond Member (whatever the fuck that means) and technically speaking haven’t needed them until now, so it was time to see how good their promises on the idiot box held up. I have the iPhone app and I use it. I send the police report, the info on the kid and his mom, and request some promised pay for help.

First up at bat was Craig. Craig was helpful. Told me no problem, took my info, took the info on the other guy, told me to take the car to an auto shop and let him know where it was at. I did all that: taking my crunchy ride to Armitage Auto Repair and getting the old school Chicago man’s man, Harry, to contact Craig.

Craig had passed the buck to Angela and she arranged for Anthony to come out and assess the damage.

Two days later, Adam sends me an email with the estimate attached with the sentence “We’ll take care of this and you should have your vehicle in a week or so. Notice the $250.00 deductible in the estimate.”

I look over the estimate. All body work. Nothing wrong with the car itself. $3,600 minus the deductible. I call Harry. He’s on it.

Same day, in the afternoon, Adam calls me. He now tells me that Anthony has reassessed the automobile and has deemed it a “Total Loss.” Meaning that it would cost more to fix it than it’s worth. While he’s on the phone, I drill up the CarMax website and the Bluebook for Used Cars. I look up my exact model, year and mileage.

“Adam. That doesn’t compute, man. I’m looking at six different cars, almost identical too mine and the average is $9,000. $3,600 isn’t even half of that.”

Adam proceeds to tell that Anthony went around the neighborhood and assessed ten vehicles similar to mine and determined that the basic body work made mine a “Total Motherfucking Bullshit Asslicking LOSS.” Progressive is going to take possession of my car, strip it and sell it for parts and give me $3,500.  

“What the fuck are you talking about? I can’t buy a goddamned Vespa for $3,500 let alone a Prius in fucking any shape! Let’s give the money to fucking Anthony and let that jackass go find me a comparable replacement for $3,500!”

Yeah. I kind of lost my shit. I threatened to sue them. Empty threat. I went off on what a horseshit scam this all was. Pointless. Yes, I’ve spent a long while tamping down the Hulk Rage in my life but every once in a while, I’m reminded that it’s always still there just waiting for an excuse to erupt. I’m not proud of this just as I’m not proud of the occasional cookie or cheese binge I go on, or nights when I just let loose and drink too much booze.

I calm down. I get my ushers briefed but they can tell something is off. We disperse and my phone rings again. It’s Adam.

“Adam, first let me apologize. I work in a job right now where angry people yell in my face about things beyond my control all the time. I should know better. Sorry about that. And I am aware this call is being recorded.”

He laughs. He then tells me that he spoke to his supervisor and there is a second option. I can take possession of my own car, they’ll send me the balance of the claim, and my car will be listed as a salvage title should I ever want to sell it. I need the car — not to get to work or around a lot in the city — I need this car to get to and from Kansas, to and from Pennsylvania, to and from the various Team Retreats Dana and I like to go on. 

On top of that, at this point in the space-time continuum, the idea of getting on a commercial airline seems kind of horrifying. Decreasing leg room to the point that if you were to crash, you couldn’t get out of your cracked-ass seat anyway. I just read about commercial flights having bed bugs. Shitpickles who feel entitled to put their bare feet on your tray table. Are you kidding me? 

As I wrote once a long time ago, wheels equal freedom. Having once lived in my car, this rings truer for me than most.

I go for the second option.

He offers me $2,000. I ask Adam to send me the assessment from Anthony. 

“I’m not supposed to...” 

“Send it to me now.” I say in the don’t-set-me-off-again-Adam voice.

He sends it.

It turns out that Anthony has canvassed the neighborhood, found ten cars that fit the profile (Hybrid, 2008-2009, 100,000 miles or more.) The average resale price is $8K but then he has adjusted each down to an average of $4K. No notes to establish how he came to this adjusted average. He officially estimates the value of the Prius to be $4,350.

It occurs to me that if my driving record depreciates, the insurance company raises my monthly payment but that as my car depreciates and their obvious commitment to paying the freight should something go wrong wains, they should charge me less as the value of the vehicle goes down with age and wear and tear. But, oh, I dream of a world of fairness and justice for all, for work that pays a living wage, and free peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with hot chocolate every night as well.

I call Harry. He is sympathetic. He tells me to haggle for more than $2K and that he’ll cut me a deal on repairs.

I haggle with Adam. The fact that I know the assessed value from Anthony’s notes helps. They send me closer to $3K. Harry fixes my car for $2,400. It looks brand new.

Harry is one of those Chicago guys. Hard bit, rough around the edges, blue collar honest. If you need your ride fixed, call Harry. He’s solid. He's at Damen Auto Repair & Body Shop.

I’m still with Progressive but I’m down to the most basic, General Liability policy they have because, apparently, Full Coverage doesn’t mean a fucking thing.

[rpchive]

106th Encounter-- Honesty’s Policy

character development is all over everywhere!

Collin quietly walks down the hallway of the IT, glancing around as he looks for a new door that leads to Azreldeh's room. There is a door in across the hall from Maya's to a room that hadn't been there before. Stopping in front of it, he takes a deep breath and then reaches out to the door. He hesitates for a split second and then knocks a couple of times, waiting for a response. The door opens itself to a room with dark, red walls and darker wooden floors that are a mix between brown and gray. Floating within the room are various objects: a massive, ornate hourglass with silver sand that seems to be flowing in the opposite direction; a cuckoo clock thats hands seem to endlessly run backwards, the bird constantly coming in and out without making any chiming chirps; varying sheathed swords, daggers, dirks, and sais of varying sizes, colors, shapes, and ages; a massive, dark chair that seems to be carved of obsidian, the seat cushion and backing lined with some sort of red material that looks incredibly inviting, however the top of the chair has the head of a dragon carved into it, two green jewels staring blindly into eternity that seem to give quite the opposite effect; many books and scrolls that seem to be rather old, yet well taken care of; and several bottles, vials, and flasks of entirely unidentifiable contents.

Seated at the back of the room, her back against the wall, head to her knees, tail curled around her, and wings shielding her from view, Azreldeh makes no effort to greet or look upon whoever has entered her room.

Azreldeh’s room is full of some really questionable shit and nobody knows where the fuck any of it came from or why it’s there, let alone if any of it belongs to her

Collin's eyes dart around the room as he tries to adjust to the strange atmosphere. He finally tears himself away from the room as he looks back to Azreldeh, then clears his throat before speaking. "Uh... hey. Is this a bad time?" Azreldeh: ...Depends on how you look at it, I guess... Collin: I'm... not sure what that means, but... I just wanted to apologize about how I treated you. You didn't deserve that.

she might be talking about the state of the room. or the capabilities of the contents

Azreldeh: Why not? I'm a demon, aren't I? We can only do bad things; we're just dangerous to everybody... Collin: That's not true. Fawkes told me about what you used to do after that time we got dumped on that weird island. It might be the most, uh... "moral" method, but you've always tried to help where you could. Azreldeh: I don't know. I spent my whole life killing people for the good of others; suddenly I'm in a situation where I shouldn't do that, so I tried not to, but it still ended in a bad reputation. This is probably why most demons don't help people...even what we consider good is too reckless or questionable by your standards... Collin: It... didn't have the ideal side effects, I'll admit, but it was the safest, fastest way out of there now that I'm looking back at it. I realized that I'm not mad about what happened, I'm... scared. Having Hod be with Rio like that makes her just as much of a target for Lobotomy as Maya, and the thought of what they might do to her if they found out what happened terrifies me. I took that out on you and I shouldn't have. I'm sorry. Honestly things would probably be even worse if you hadn't teleported us out of there, and we all owe you for that. Drawing her wings back a bit, Azreldeh sits upright finally.

"...Not when, but if Lobotomy has the nerve to even try to find Hod or Rio, them getting caught would be the worst thing that could happen, but only for them; so you have every right to be scared. Hod's seen a Sephirah be dismantled for their...resistance. Lobotomy is just as kind to their "equipment" as it is to their employees; and that's all I'll really say about that. That being said; with Hod's body dysfunctional, Lobotomy has no way of tracking us, assuming Maya truly destroyed her old armband. The suits and weapons are so expendable that Lobotomy never bothered to rig them, but since the armbands are for clearance; rank; and status; they're made to be more...all around useful to both parties." Collin: I don't see why Maya would've kept something like that, but I can check with her later. Right now I just... wanted to apologize to you. You had the best solution to the problem, even with the side effects, and I didn't appreciate you for it. Azreldeh: Jeez, I'm not used to you saying nice stuff to me. Sure you didn't hit your head on the way over? Collin: I'm pretty sure. I'm not just an illlusion or something either, promise. If there's any way I can make this up to you, just let me know, alright? A sly smile spreads across Azreldeh's face as she finally relaxes. "Oh, I'm sure I can think of something~." Collin turns slightly red at the expression. "H-Hey, don't look at me like that." Azreldeh: Now that's more like the Collin I know! Heheh. Collin: Good grief... I guess I had that one coming, though. Azreldeh: Hmm...well, if you really want to try and make it up to me, we should go on a date or something at least. Unless your boyfriend would get jealous... A brief moment of silence passes as Collin tries to process her words. "... W-Wait, are you being serious?" Azreldeh: ...Did you think I was joking this whole time? Collin: Well yeah, you've flirted with at least half the IT at this point! I just thought it was something you did to catch people off guard or something! Azreldeh: Haha! Well, yeah, but I mean it sometimes...! Collin: I'm... uh, not sure what to say? If you're serious about this, I... I'll need to talk with Jay about this. I'm not going to do anything that's going to hurt him. Azreldeh: Happy to hear you're considering it! ...The date, not hurting your partner. Collin: W-Well, I do owe you after what I did. Although if Jay doesn't want me to do this, you're going to have to pick something else. Azreldeh: That's fine with me! Collin: Alright, uh... I guess I'll go talk with him, and I'll let you know what we decide. From there I guess we'll... make plans? I don't really know how this works... Azreldeh: Don't worry; I'll take care of that stuff. You just worry about your guy. Collin: Alright, well... I'll go see if he's busy, I guess. Is there anything else you wanted before I go?

Azreldeh: Not that I can think of...but thanks for saying all that. I don't know what I would've done if you all hated me or something; I can't get back home when I'm like this, after all. Collin: I don't think anyone hates you, don't worry. Although you probably shouldn't dangle people out of airships from now on, alright? Azreldeh: I doubt we'll be on any more of those, but I'll keep it in mind. Collin nods and gives a slightly awkward wave as he turns back and exits Azreldeh's room, already lost in thought.

more like lost in thot

Standing outside of Daedalus' room, Clair reaches for the door several times, retracting her arm back to her side or placing her hand on her cheek as she debates knocking or simply trying to go in over and over. Dragging both hands down her face, she takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, and quickly knocks on the door; letting out a long sigh as she opens her eyes and waits. A muffled voice from somewhere further in the room answers the knock. "Hang on a second!" 

A minute or so passes, filled with the sounds of things being moved or set down. Finally Daedalus opens the door, adjusting the sunglasses back on his face. "Alright, what do you- Oh, uh, hey. Everything alright?" Clair: Um, well, I was gonna ask you that, actually. You just kinda walked off yesterday... Daedalus: Oh, yeah, yesterday... kinda sucked, frankly, but at least we didn't have to meet that Angela chick. I haven't had a bad gut feeling about someone like that in a long time. Uh, did you want to come in?

I mean, in the long run he still has every right to be concerned, but I really don’t know what Bad Thing you[x2] were expecting? you’re legitimately gonna have to look through every single abnormality and tell me what’s up

Clair: Um, sure; if you don't mind... Daedalus: Yeah, it's fine. Sorry, hospitality isn't exactly my strong suit. Also, pardon the mess.

He opens the door wider for her to come inside. Half of his room now looks more like a workshop than a bedroom. A couple of partially finished weapons lie on racks, along with a large array of tools. A suit of armor rests on a mounted stand, vaguely resembling a suit of knight's armor but significantly slimmed down and modernized with some strange mesh-like accents around the chest plate.

Closer to the doorway is a more inviting living space area, separated from the rest of the room by a small pair of shelves filled with various cases for movies, music, and games. A single couch faces a television, a coffee table covered with the empty plates from a couple of meals sitting between them. Opposite of that is another room that appears to be a bedroom with an attached closet and bathroom area, although the room isn't as visible from the doorway. Entering the room, Clair looks around curiously. "...I thought you were just working on a sheath for the stagblade this whole time, but it looks like you've been making a lot of other stuff too..." Daedalus: The stagblade was more of a hobby project. After Oz went stab-happy on my torso, I realized that I desperately needed some better protection when I'm out dealing with whatever gets thrown our way. I only just got the base finished, but I still need to do some detail work and stuff. It'll work, but it ain't pretty. Clair: But where did you even learn how to make all this? There's a difference between "I know how to metalwork from our old hobbies" and "I just made a suit of armor 'cause I sang a bunch for a while..." Daedalus: It's not just singing... although that just makes it weirder, I guess. I don't know, things have just been weird for me ever since I first magicked up that fire or whatever. It's completely foreign to me, but it's also like something is, I don't know, guiding me? I'm sure it has something to do with the fact that Collin was all sorts of weird when Demo brought me back through him. Maybe I inherited some memories from one of those gods or something? It kinda makes me nervous to think about, so I haven't really spent much time focusing on it.

But uh, you didn't come here to talk about that, sorry. I'm getting off on a tangent.

He steps over to the couch and sits down on one end, turning his body to rest his back against the arm rest and face both her and the other end of the couch.

"Here, you can sit if you want. I'd take a separate chair if I had one, but I never really expected company." Sitting on the opposite end of the couch, Clair glances away for a moment as she quietly mumbles "Right..." before circling back to the original topic. "...So you're doing okay after having to...?" Daedalus: I'm... alright now. It had to be done, I don't regret it or anything. I just really hope this doesn't become a trend for me or something. Doing that kind of thing feels... actually I don't really know how to describe it. The old me never felt this way about anything, so it's sort of a foreign feeling to me.

don’t hurt my son or I’ll rip off your other leg

I say as if I don’t know about the next like...10 logs

Clair: ...I guess I'm just worried about you. I understand the circumstances for why you were the way you were back then were different, but since you were brought here in such a weird way, I just...I never know what's gonna happen with you. Jay and Collin always have some kind of weird stuff happening to them because of what they are, or were, or how they got that way, so why would you be different? I doubt anyone would be trying to hurt you, but what's saying that something else won't happen? Daedalus: ... I don't know. I don't feel wrong right now, but it doesn't feel normal either. I couldn't do any of this stuff before now, and I'm not sure if it stops here or if something else is going to happen too. I mean, let's be real here, given the trend on this old vending machine, I'm probably long overdue for some crazy thing to happen to me. I feel like I've been given a blank check after all the things I did before, and it feels... wrong, like karma's being too nice to me or something. Clair: But you weren't doing any of that because you wanted to! You getting punished now would be like blaming Zenith for all the things my dad made Alzedeth do; it just...it doesn't work like that...

She glances back down to the floor. "You didn't hurt anybody..." Daedalus: I'm... not so sure about that. I feel like I've hurt you more than anyone right now. Honestly I'm surprised you're even talking with me still. Clair: ...It had to be done. Taking Alzedeth with us wouldn't have brought back Zenith's soul; and if we'd left him with Lobotomy, there's no telling what he would've done, or how many other people he would've killed trying to find his way back to OZ or myself...I can't blame you. There is a brief pause as Daedalus takes a deep breath. "I guess that's fair. So what about you? I know I've got my own weird stuff going on right now, but you haven't exactly had an easy time either." Clair: ...I...think you guys had a point. I shouldn't be so obsessed with trying to get Zenith back. It's just...hard. Our family was so terrible to us, and then, when Zenith was kind of a person again, I barely got to spend any time with him before our parents took him away from me for good. Now I don't even know what I am and I don't have anything left...but I can't let it stay that way. I'm gonna find a reason to keep going; I'll figure out what I am, what I can do, what all of this means for me, and I'll bring an end to everybody trying to do anything like what my parents did. I won't let anybody suffer like us again...

I wish I could do those cool aesthetic graphics with the pretty typeface panels of character lines because I would make such a good Clair one tbh

Daedalus: ... Always full of surprises. You really are as tough as they come, y'know? I'm glad to hear you say that though. You fit right in around here. Clair: I hate to say it, but I think the first step to doing the right thing is getting Hod to help us bring down Lobotomy. Getting near them with Rio and Hod will be risky; but after everything they've done, we can't just let them off the hook because they're dangerous. We're dangerous too... Daedalus blinks once, although his sunglasses just make it seem like a brief stare. "Wow, there you go again with the surprise thing. I don't entirely disagree, but you don't even know what you can do. Should you really be tackling something like Lobotomy as your starting point?" Clair: W-well, not now! Hod's still in no condition to help without a body of her own; so until XL can figure out what to do with her, I'll just...figure myself out! Daedalus: And what's your plan for that, exactly? Have you tried anything yet? Clair: Well, no...I was gonna talk to Jay and Karumet about it since they know how kleivenn stuff works... Daedalus: Not a bad idea. I doubt using kleivenn magic is as simple as thinking happy thoughts or something. Clair: I have no idea. I've never used any kind of magic before...but what about you? Are you trying to figure out what's up with you too? Daedalus: If you're talking about the fire thing, it's... strange. It only happens when I get in the proper state for it. I have to be mad enough, determined enough, focused on what I want and nothing else. It's this feeling like I have a magma chamber in my gut, and it channels through the rest of me as I need it. I decide I want to do something, and I just kind of... will the tool that can do that to appear in my hands. Honestly every time it happens, it feels like I'm flying by the seat of my pants on a raging bull born from a bonfire, but it's worked out so far? Clair: I'm not totally sure what that last part means, but are you sure it's safe to be doing it this often? Daedalus: Sorry, metaphors aren't my strong point I guess. I don't think it's "dangerous"; I always feel like I'm in control, it's just like an... adrenaline rush or something. It's hard to describe, but maybe you'll know what I mean when you figure out your own stuff. The worst thing that's ever happened after I do that is when I hit my limit or whatever and just sorta... crash. Luckily it hasn't happened when I was in danger afterwards, so I guess I just need to get better at reigning myself in or something. Clair: Well, as long as you're alright, I guess it doesn't matter much... Daedalus: C'mon, I'm not that fragile. I've dealt with way worse than getting a little tired. Why are you always so worried about me? Clair: W-well, that's what friends and stuff do, right? Daedalus: Beats me, you're arguably the first person to ever be nice to me out the gate. Guess it helps that you missed my shittier years... Clair: All the more reason to keep being nice, then! Daedalus: Sheesh, I'd say you're too nice to me. Makin' me feel bad, here. Clair: I mean, if you want me to stop, all you have to do is say so... Daedalus: Woah, hey, don't start reading me the wrong way. You're the only- I mean, you make this- uh...

He coughs and then clears his throat for a second, fixing his sunglasses back in place afterwards. "I'm just messing with you. You're fine, don't worry about it." Clair: Heheh, if you say so. Daedalus: What? What's so funny? Clair: You. You're ridiculous. Daedalus: What's that supposed to mean? Clair: You're just funny is all. Sometimes. Daedalus: Sometimes? Now that's just insulting. I'm always funny, thank you kindly. Clair: Well, you're funny 'til you're serious, at least! Daedalus: I'll accept that.

He scratches the back of his head for a second. "It... is clear that I'm joking right now, right? I know I had a bit of an ego before, but..." Clair: Whoa, are you getting embarrassed? That's a first, haha! But yeah, I know. Daedalus: You've given me a lot of firsts, frankly. Maybe that's your kleivenn power?

I’ll be blunt, Dair’s probably my favorite ship in the series. they’re really cute together

Clair: What, to be first for everything? No way; I'm pretty sure Sanglied lives in the kitchen, 'cause I've never beaten them to getting breakfast. Daedalus: I don't know what Sanglied is, but I've seen them do things with food that I don't think mortals were meant to witness. Clair: Maybe they're a black hole. Daedalus: Yeah, but only for pancakes and watermelon. Clair: Hey, all food's gotta go somewhere. Daedalus: I guess so. Was anything else on your mind? I'm not trying to dodge questions, I promise. al Clair: Um, not really...I've pretty much voiced everything I was thinking about. Daedalus: Alright, good. I just wanted to make sure. I'm glad you stopped by, honestly. I was afraid you might not want to talk anymore after, well... Clair: No, I couldn't get mad at you for that...I'm trying not to think about it too much, but like I said earlier, you guys were right, it was really just all that could be done...doesn't mean I have to /like/ it, but I can't just keep feeling angry and sad about everything... Daedalus: Very true... Well, you should probably go find Jay or Karumet since there aren't any fires at the moment. Never know when the next thing is gonna hit the fan. If you need help with practicing your magical shenanigans or whatever, just let me know, alright? It's the least I can do for you. Clair: Um, yeah, okay! Thanks for having this talk. I guess we both had a lot to say.

Getting up from the couch, Clair leaves the room. Daedalus takes off his sunglasses and sets them on the cushion, then covers his face with his hands for a second as he lets out a sigh. "... I should really keep this room cleaner."

Collin walks up to XL's door and pauses for a moment to push his thoughts about earlier aside before he knocks a few times. XL: "The door's unlocked; feel free to come in!" Collin steps inside at the invitation. "Sorry, it feels weird to just walk in." Rio is seated in the back of XL's room, while XL is seated beside Hod's body , which is currently occupying XL's bed. Occasionally, XL will get up to retrieve yet another tool to cautiously examine the body with. Collin: So uh, how're things going in here? XL: The construction of any sort of artificial lifeform of this grade and caliber is so incredibly illegal I have no idea where to start. Collin: Sounds about right for Lobotomy then, huh? How about you, Rio? You and Hod doing alright? Hod: I'm doing fine. Er, so is Rio... I'm really sorry about suddenly being here...I probably would've asked if I'd had the choice. Collin: It's not your fault, don't worry. I'm just glad everyone got out okay. Or, well... as close okay as you can get, in your case. XL: The implications of something like this existing are incredibly immoral. This is beyond standard android structure; this is damn near--...do...do you know how you were made?

Hod: I...know enough to know I'd rather not; I'll put it that way. Collin: I'm not exactly liking the way you're making it sound either. Do you think you can fix it? XL: It would be an incredibly delicate and intricate process; it could even take me years.

Hod: This is why A dimantled us so frequently. It was easier to just...transfer us to something new instead of repairing something old. But anything new would be exactly the same... Collin: Wait, this happened frequently for you? And they'd just... swap the entire thing out like a battery? Hod: Not...for me, but I was...scheduled recently...but another Sephirah I was close with was...opted in due to...well, due to participating in recreational activities the facility deemed unfit for his person. They made me watch before they scheduled me for the same reason... Collin: ... This "dismantling" isn't just moving you to a new unit, is it? Hod: No; when the facility deems a Sephirah's body unfit for its contents, they dismantle it while the Sephirah is present, then remove the AI and give them a new body. They told us it was because there was no other way to relocate an AI integrated with such complicated systems...clearly they were lying just to hurt us

cannocly they just smash it in a hydraulic press sort of thing and fish out the human bits so they can place what’s left in a new construct, but in this AU of mine it’s a lot more of a process and less “SMASH THIS HUMANOID THING AND SCOOP THE MEAT PASTE”

XL: ...We're gonna tear that place apart from the inside out, right? Collin: Brick by fucking brick. I'm so sorry, Hod. We're not going to let them hurt you ever again. Hod: ...All you'd need to do is get to A. You wouldn't need to get through any abnormalities or anything; once he's out of the picture, Lobotomy will fall apart on it's own...but the abnormalities will breach...and once they reach the surface, that world will be destroyed. Collin: ... Well that sounded easy right up until that last part. Shit, what are we gonna do? Hod: Only a Sephirah would be able to hold them in A's absence...but with A dead, no Sephirah would be functioning. Collin: Geez, is there any good news? XL: ...There is. Even if I can't fix your body, I know who can. Asra Nox is the most talented, intelligent outlaw the galaxy's ever seen; if she couldn't fix something like this, we would have to hand your body over to the avali. Undoubtedly, they could fix it, but legally, we would be in an uncomfortable position, and they would almost definitely turn us down once they saw what your body was like...Almiet, on the other hand, would probably welcome the challenge, and say that "laws are meant to be broken for the good of others," or something.

Asra’s last name is Nox but saying Asra by itself just sounds like Raven got halfway through a spell, so I often find myself trying to say the whole thing all the time regardless

Hod: But why would you risk getting arrested for me?

XL: The galaxy I come from kind of owes all of us a favor for bringing an end to a massive war. I think they would let it slide if we got caught, though they'd probably start grouping us with Almiet...as they should, we wouldn't even be on this ship if we hadn't sided with her. Collin: And even if we didn't have that working in our favor, helping people like you get away from places like that is pretty much our standard practice. Rio: ...So, in theory, we have a way to bring down A and Lobotomy, and a functioning Sephirah body; but we still need an AI to keep all the abnormalities underground...and then what? Then we'd just have another incredibly dangerous facility run by a singular, incredibly powerful AI; would that really be the best option? What happens if they get bored; or break down; or get angry? What if they get too curious for their own good?

Hod: Unless you have a way to kill multiple things with the strength of gods simultaneously, you won't be able to stop all the abnormalities... Collin: I mean... we have gods, but I don't think they're as strong as they used to be. This is gonna be a real can of worms, isn't it? I think this place has actually taken Aperture's title of "worst lab ever". Hod: ...There has to be something we can do...we can't just leave Lobotomy as it is... Collin takes a deep breath. ”We... We can probably deal with the abnormalities if we have to. Between all of us, we should have enough power to deal with anything that comes our way." Hod: B-but you could die...! And if you underestimate anything...!

Rio: We couldn't! We have you here, after all. There can't be any surprises if we know what we're expecting...you can help us, so we can actually help everybody!

Hod: ...Y-yeah, I guess you're right! Okay, I'll...I'll tell you what I can. I'm sure Maya can help too; she's...had some experience. Collin: Assuming she'll come with us, she'll definitely be a huge help with this. Hod: If you can pull this off, it would be absolutely incredible! But the other Sephirahs...

XL: ...Let's just try to take this one step at a time. First, your body.

Hod: ...Yeah. Collin: Yeah, sorry. I was getting us a little too far ahead. So we gotta ring up Asra again, huh? XL: Absolutely. I'm sure she's got some highly illegal technology scrapped together from apex and avali parts that could easily handle this in a convenient timespan. Collin: Alright. Well, I should get out of the way for now. I've uh, got some other stuff to deal with before things get too crazy. Rio: Oh, okay! We'll see you later, then! Collin waves and then steps back out into the hall and heads back to his room.

okay so I forgot this log was just talkies, next log we start to fix Hod and progress some Story Stuff!

[rmoseley]

Jacked part four

I locked eyes with Dean. They were swimming with concern, I nodded. “Yeah.” not that he would care. He was probably thinking about Joe. We found the clown. Or rather the Rakshasa. It was the blind knife thrower. The door to the room he led us in was stuck, he vanished a knife landed just next to my head in the door. Another one sailed just beside my neck as Dean pushed me in front of him out the door. We met up with Sam and ran to the fun house. We were separated. “Dean? Sam?” I shouted hitting at the wall. “Find the maze! Hurry!” I heard Sam yell. I ran to it seeing the calliope come into view. I was moved just in time to be pinnined to the wall. “Oh for fuck’s sake!” I yell trying to pry the knife out of my jacket. Dean tried to pull it out while Sam pulled the steaming brass pipe of the calliope out. He was pinned to me. All I could do was look at Dean. I was going dizzy as a knife stuck itself in the wall grazing a bare piece of flesh from my T-shirt riding up. Dean looked down at me, an unreadable emotion crossed his face. Then as soon as it appeared it vanished when he set to work pulling the knives out of the wall. My breath hitched as he pulled the last one out, it was just above the waist line of my jeans. His fingers brushed over the skin. Making my head spin. I was swooning over Dean. At Bobby’s the Impala was nearly done I was walking around when I heard the sound of glass breaking. I ran up there just in time to see Dean going ape on Baby’s trunk. “Dean…” I said placing a hand on his shoulder. He turned around. I wish he hadn’t. He looked really angry. “Go away Jackline I don’t want to talk. You’re just as bad as Sammy.” I crossed my arms. “Dean I-” “I said go away!” he pushed me back I tripped on my own feet and glared at him. I got up and dusted myself off. And walked off. I didn’t talk to him for a while I still wasn’t talking to him when we went on a case in Montana. A couple severed heads, some drained cattle, we thought we’d check it out. That’s when we met a hunter, another one that actively sought to kill vamps. I developed a strong sense of dislike for him when he was encouraging sadistic behavior in Dean. Sam got up to go to the motel I got up to follow him Dean grabbed my wrist. “Where do you think you’re going Jackie?” I wrenched my arm out of his grasp, glaring at him hopefully enough to convey my anger, “To bed.” I said as I followed Sam out the door. We called Ellen. “Hey Ellen its Sam…” Sam forced me to stay in the room which was a bad idea. We were bound and thrown into a van. I wake up shoulder to shoulder with someone. A bag over my head. It was yanked off I was sitting by Sam. The thing in front of us was a euro fangbanger. Shit. Well it would have drained us if someone wouldn’t have told it to wait. Her name was Lenor. She wanted to talk to us. She wanted us not to follow her. I put two and two together. Gordon was hunting them out of his own sick pleasure. I was still mad at Dean but I had to warn him. He was being hardheaded about this. We told him that they let us go and thatcthey fed on animals. He still didn’t believe us. I stopped him by stepping in front of him. “Dean, please. They would have killed us if they wanted to. You have to believe us.” I said my blue eyes searching his green hazel eyes. He put his hands on my hips and moved me aside, walking back towards the room. He said that killing supernatural things is our job. “No killing evil things is our job. If they ain’t killing people they ain’t evil. Dean.” I said so angry that my accent came out. We got into it him me and Sam yelling at each other before I gave up and walked back to the rooms. Dean punched Sam. I was going to be the peace keeper. I stepped in front of Sam. “Stop.” I said looking into his eyes. He clenched his jaw and said he was going to the nest. He looked down at me, an unreadable emotion swimming in his eyes, before he started walking to the rooms. Gordon was missing. We were going to stop him. Or rather Sam and I were going to. I looked Dean in the eye and stepped closer to him. “Trust us. you haven’t given us any reason to lie.” he looked down at me a serious look on his face. He swallowed hard. The tension was thick in the room Sam looked uncomfortable. I backed away and turned to walk to the door, “or don’t. Its your choice.” I said walking out the door. Dean had to hot wire the Impala because someone *cough cough* Gordon *cough cough * jacked the keys. I am so going to Gank that guy. We walked in on him torturing Lenor. I drew my pistol. The fucker threatened Sam with the knife he was going to use to kill Lenor. “They aren’t human, they haven’t changed and I can prove it.” he said as he cut Sam and let the blood drip on Lenor’s face. “No, no,” Lenor repeated over and over again fighting the urge to feed. So Dean pulled a Gun on Gordon, who waited till Dean turned his back before he tried to fight him I tried to intervein which got me tossed like a rag doll, I hit my head on the table and conked out. I woke up in Dean’s arms, my head to his chest. I looked up wincing as the tender flesh met his arm. “Dean? Wha- what happened?” I groaned. He looked down at me a serious look on his face, always so serious here lately.

We were going to visit the boys’ mother’s grave. Dean thought it was stupid, I agreed with Sam. We were at the cemetery. I gave them some space looking around I saw something peculiar. At one particular grave all the vegetation surrounding it was dead. It was in a circle around one single grave. “Uh guys? I really hate to interrupt your visit but, look.” I pointed to the dead tree. “Everything around it is green except for the parts closest to the grave.” I said. “What do you think happened?” I was shocked. Dean Winchester asked my opinion on a hunt. Mind blown. “Unholy ground? Maybe something happened after the funeral.” I shrugged. “I doubt its a sign of an unholy presence. There would be more signs. An omen or two.” Dean gave me a not bad face and I scoffed. He held his hand out to me to help me up, I was still sore from being thrown into a wall. I took it trying to hide the obvious redness in my cheeks. So we got the girls name. Angela Mason. Her father is a professor at the local college. We knocked on his door. “Professor Mason?” the old man said yes. “I’m Sam this is Dean and Jackie, we were friends of Angela’s. We wanted to offer our condolences.” we talked to the professor while Dean fiddled with a strange book. “This’s a strange book.” “its ancient Greek. I teach a course.” Dean changed the subject. “So a car accident. That’s an awful way to go.” he said the man nodded. “Angie was just a mile away from home…” “losing someone like that is hard. Sometimes it feels like they’re still around. You ever get a feeling like that?” I quirked an eyebrow at Dean. “That’s perfectly normal, Mr Mason, with what you’re going through.” I said looking at Dean.“ “I’m telling you there’s something here we just haven’t found it yet.” Dean said as the thumbed through his father’s journal. I nodded. “I agree with Dean Sam, something’s obviously going on.” “So far you have a patch of dead grass and a funny feeling. We shouldn’t even have bothered that poor man.” I crossed my arms when Sam suggested it was a flop. Dean left to go drink I was sitting on the bed. Sam was doing the same. “Sam?” he turned to me, “I think Dean is right. The dead grass was in a perfect circle.” Sam tuned back to face the wall. I went with Dean to investigate. Angela’s boyfriend killed himself. I investigated the scene with Dean. It was a blood bath, and the fact that all the plants and goldfish were dead, just added to my I told you so parade. “I think Sam owes you an apology.” I said smirking at Dean as I slid into the impala. Dean was being stoic again. My arm rested on Baby’s consol. Dean’s was right beside mine, one hand on the wheel. His fingers grazed mine ‘on accident.’ I looked at him, a grin on my lips. I jumped when his fingers laced with mine but my smile grew wider into an ear to ear, face splitting grin. I felt like a giddy teenager, I squeezed his hand. This man was full of surprises. We found out that Angela’s boyfriend cheated on her. That marks her as a vengeful spirit to me. We went to burn her body, we stopped digging. Her coffin lay untouched in the earth. “Ladies first.” Dean said. I slid into the hole and wrenched the coffin open falling on my rear. “Its empty. This is bad.” I said noticing strange symbols carved in the wood. Dean looked pissed. The next day he confronted her poor father. “What’s dead should stay dead!” Dean said still angry. “Dean,” I warned. He didn’t seem to notice. "What you brought back isn’t even your daughter anymore. These things are viscous they’re violent, they’re so nasty they rot the ground around them, I mean come on, haven’t you seen pet cemetery?” he was accusing this sweet old man. “Dean that’s enough!” I shouted. “We are sorry sir, were leaving. We won’t bother you again.” I followed Dean outside. “What the hell was that Dean? that man was innocent.” Sam and him kept arguing. I held the bridge of my nose. If anyone heard us they probably thought we were crazy. “So its Neil then?” I asked remembering the timid guy we questioned. “Neil its your grief counselors. We’ve come to hug!” Dean yelled. I sniggered then regained seriousness as I loaded my pistol. We entered his basement, the place smelled like death and the vent was loose. “Shit.” I cursed under my breath. “Look she killed Matt because he was cheating, it takes two to have hardcore sex.” Dean said. Oh god the thoughts again. I stubbed my toe on purpose to draw my mind away. I hissed and hopped around much to their amusement. “Stubbed my toe.” I said slightly laughing. It worked. So we went back to her friends house. Lindsay was in danger. I shot her right in the back. She turned around and I shot her again, she jumped out the window I moved to follow her but Dean grabbed my arm. He ran after her coming back minutes later. “Man that Dead chick can run.” he said as he stepped back into the window. He confused me. “I say we go have a little chat with Neil.” I said. Angela killed Neil. We were lighting candles to perform the ‘ritual’ waiting for that undead freak to come I was going to nail the to her grave bed. I heard rustling in the bushes. I stood up ready to Gank her. Sam lured her out. I shot her before she could break Sam’s neck.

[sugarwaterradio]

How Rick Ross

Well in May forbes said this guy was worth 150 million bucks but now fitty cent doesn't have two quarters to rub together I remember reading headlines about 50 Cent's financial troubles and thinking there was something incredibly tragic about the man that released get rich or die trying' going bankrupt however on last check 50 cent was actually still alive which did make me think that maybe there was slightly more to the bankruptcy story than meets the eye in order to truly understand what happened we need to go way back to 2008 at the start of his feud with everybody's favorite wing slinging fake drug-dealing rapper Rick Ross it was actually Rick Ross that started off the beef by saying that 50 cent and looked at him some kind of way at the Beatty Awards Awards not what little kid made an expression on his face that carries disappointing me what kind of expression 50 responded saying he didn't even see Rick Ross at the awards which i think is hard to believe considering the Rick Ross weighs 350 pounds now Ricky Ross made the beef official when he released the song of mafia music which fired a few shots at 50 cent for allegedly burning down his baby mamas house January 29th 2009 and 50 cent comes out with a response to mafia music his own disc called officer Ricky the next day Rick Ross calls in to Angela Yee show and says that that response is trash and 50 has 48 hours to respond with something Feder 24 hours later well i'ma fuck your life up but fine I paid for the transcripts to your court case and now that I got you address will be on your doorstep Ricky on that same day 50 also releases the first episode of his officer Ricky cartoon series damn because I said your mama look like the Klumps a couple of days later 50 of sticking true to his promise of fucking up Rick Ross's life for fuck 50 starts out the video by saying that what you're about to see is something is a little bit more sophisticated than what we've been offering in the past which I think's a massive disservice to 50 Cent's car work I mean this video is so lowbrow it makes candy shop look like the Beethoven symphony in the video the mother of Rick Ross's child calls out rot for having rented jewelry and leased cars and he takes her first shopping whilst isn't she lovely by Stevie Wonder plays you cannot make this shit up 50 also takes the opportunity to call out Rick Ross's other baby mama for being a cool girl a few days after that Rick Ross releases the diss song kiss my pinky ring curly this song is accompanied by a music video of Rick Ross hanging out in New York with some miscellaneous goons the song also featured what felt like several hundred lyrics accusing 50 cent of being gage an allegation which seemingly becomes a big part of this beef from both sides two days after that it's the 8th of February and 50 cent is dropping more content than Netflix he puts out officer Ricky episode 2 which shows how Rick Ross got a deal from jay-z he then drops the first of a series of new comedy segments featuring a character that he's created called pimping curly curl this is basically just 50 cent wearing a curly wig while shrieking about how much of a pimp ears and threatening Rick Ross on with a knife Oh Livie without you I've got you then along with his crew g-unit 50-cent releases I'll be the shooter which features so many shout outs of different types of guns the song might as well have been recorded in TI's trunk in response to this Rick Ross essentially coffees fifties idea of the animated this video and releases his own version called gay unit workouts which I'm sure even the slowest of viewers can work out what that means this entire video is basically just calling out g-unit members for being gay it also disses 50 cent for allegedly using steroids and also for some reason Rick Ross decided that this video was the perfect place to debut his new single with John Legend magnificent over visuals of a cartoon g-unit having a three-way gangbang that same day Rick Ross dropped the diss track push him over the ledge which is basically a two minute juice freestyle mainly consisting of you guessed it oh hey he mentions one specific rumor of g-unit member Lloyd Banks being in a gay porno dick on Google which I did a lot of digging on I couldn't seem to find any evidence for that but there was one a guy that looks a little bit like Lloyd Banks appeared in a gay porno the next day 50 cent puts out a video that's probably the most menacing thing I've ever seen in a hip hop beef I mean this thing makes the story if added on look like the story of Balamory he releases the video a psychic told me this little poem / dj khaled check this shit out right it's cool I just wanted to tell you what it's like you told me your car tires gonna stare down now you know I know will you be and or will your mama house it and all your mama work it now look at sleep to make this even more spicy we later found out that the person actually filmed this was French Montana he's even seen in one of these videos wearing him this is 50 t-shirt which he can't blame on his stylist over the next month these two trade shots back and forth over disc tracks and animated videos 50 goes on to drop several more cartoons which don't just clown Rick Ross but also go after Ti DMX Suge Knight and Chris Brown but it's on March the 17th that 50 made the ultimate mistake that would eventually wind him up in bankruptcy 50 cent actually leaks a sex tape starring Rick Ross's other baby mama Brooke with an introduction of himself in character as pimp and curly and commentary throughout the entire video I personally don't think it's right or legal to show you any of that tape so what I'm going to do is I'm gonna play you some of 50s commentary over some very innocent six days after the sex tape leaked on March 23rd Rick Ross came out with a very unusual video essentially saying sorry not sorry to the gay community I heard a knife in the homosexual community I apologize I'm offering a record will openly gay artists such as City sing we all know he's gay so now all the gays good later Rick Ross drops his long-awaited album deeper than rap now the album is out and there's very little to be gained from beefing these two kind of lose interest in each other during that time fifty seems to get closer to Rick Ross's baby mama Tia helping her release her own tell-all biography but things get really Savage in November where seemingly out of nowhere fifty decides to take Rick Ross's baby mama and his kids to Floyd Mayweather's house I've got to say it's pretty painful to watch I mean it seems like 50-cent treats Ross's kids better than his own February 25th 2010 and Rick Ross's baby mama Brooke brings a court case against $for Leake in that sex tape this court case takes an entire five years to get resolved during that time the 50 and Ross beef simmers and a few things happen here and there that are quite interesting Ross publicly suffers from some seizures gunplay from Rick Ross's Maybach Music crew gets beaten up by g-unit at an award show and 50 cent is pictured wearing his Maybach music chain er of bowling alley a few days later 50 pounds Rick Ross for getting his car shot up and Rick Ross gets accused of pistol whipping his groundskeeper who is later pictured on Instagram with 50 cent five years go by and it's in July 2015 that that court case finally gets resolved and fifty loses the court order 50 to pay five million dollars to Brooke for the sex tape leaked and two million dollars in punitive damages three days after losing that case fifty Cent files for chapter 11 bankruptcy now it's important to realize that there's a big difference between filing for chapter 11 bankruptcy and filing for chapter 7 bankruptcy chapter 11 is more about reorganizing your assets so that you can then end up making the payments that you owe whereas chapter 7 is a lot more about admitting that there's no way you can pay your payments however this didn't stop Rick Ross and the whole world from clowning on 50 my first album was time Richard and I've bankrupt I guess he's 50 cent even got in on some of the action mocking the idea of him being bankrupt which actually caused him to get hauled back into court to explain himself 50 told the court that the money in the pictures and his whole lavish lifestyle was actually Fae 50 cents money woes didn't last very long by 2017 only two years after losing that court case 50 was actually able to pay off his entire 22 million dollar debt five years herb so if you think 50s broke 50 ain't broke but how the hell did 50 suddenly get all of this money to pay these debts 50 didn't just go bankrupt from losing the sextape case he'd also been in and out court with slick audio based on a dispute around the SMS audio headphones deal that he had going on 50 had originally partnered with sleek to engineer the headphones but he later left them and ended up doing a deal with somebody else slick sued him and won and he ended up owning them 17 million dollars for the development of these headphones and that to the outstanding amount that he had to pay Brooke for the sex tape lawsuit in December 2016 50 actually won a court case against the lawyers who had represented him in the original sleek audio case that he lost by winning that case against his lawyers he got 14 and a half million dollars which he then combined with his own funds of million dollars to basically pay off the entire outstanding debt and get out of bankruptcy put off the hill to that when he decided to sue the lawyers from his sex tape case as well specifically he argues that they failed to interview Rick Ross about leaking the sex tape before 50 did furthermore he claimed that there was actually a conflict of interest between an old lawyer that 50 had in 2004 and Rick Ross's current lawyer as far as I can tell that Court case is currently unresolved but what I could find was that 50 is looking for thirty two million dollars from this case even though 50 beat bankruptcy we can assume that he learned his lesson and he will never leak a sex tape ever again okay I hope you enjoyed that video make sure that you like and scribe below hit that notification bell so you can see every single time I upload and if you've been enjoying my work lately I definitely recommend that you go and check out the patreon account I've started there's some really cool benefits on there that I think you will definitely like and I would really appreciate your support so I can keep making these videos and hopefully I can upload more often thanks very much and peace out Read the full article