#realizing i forgot a comma after hands. too bad

[storywestistrash]

look at my emo haiku i had to write for my creative writing class

[dottielovegood]

ASMR - chapter 3

Elriel fanfiction

About this fic:

Azriel can’t sleep Elain has an ASMR channel Match made in heaven (or you know, on youtube..)

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You can find chapter 1 here and chapter 2 here Read this fic on AO3

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Chapter 3

Luckily for Azriel, the next day was a Saturday, which meant that he didn’t have to go to work. The only plan he had that day was his gym appointment at 7.00 in the morning, just like every other day. Cassian and Rhys often gave him shit for going to the gym that early in the morning on weekends, but they had partners to enjoy the days with. Azriel did not, which meant that working out was a good way to pass time. Especially for someone like Azriel who didn’t sleep and seemed to have more hours to his days than most regular people did.

However, today he woke up to the sun shining in through his window. He picked up his phone to check the time and was surprised to see that it said 9.23. He never slept that late. And he never slept that well.

She made me miss my gym appointment, Azriel thought to himself and couldn’t help but smile. And then it hit him. It was 9.23. That meant that Flower Girl ASMR would call him in exactly 37 minutes, and he hadn’t even had coffee yet. Azriel quickly got out of bed and hurried to the kitchen. While the coffee was brewing he jumped into the shower. He didn’t know why, but it felt wrong to be on the phone with her without having a shower first. Just like it would feel wrong to show up to a date without showering.

This is not a date, he told himself as he tied the towel around his hips and walked back into his kitchen. Azriel lived in a studio apartment, which meant that his ‘kitchen’ was actually a corner of his living room/bedroom. It was quite big for a studio apartment and he could easily fit his bed, a big sectional, and a dining room table in the room. There were exposed bricks on one wall which gave it a rustic feeling, and the white sleek details everywhere else made it feel modern and minimalistic - just like Azriel preferred.

Azriel leaned against his counter and sipped his coffee. He glanced at the clock on the wall which told him that he had 15 minutes left before the phone call. His hands were sweating. Was it because the coffee was so warm? Azriel tried to tell himself that the coffee was the reason for his warm hands, but it was more difficult to find an explanation for the butterflies in his stomach.

He was nervous. Not because of what they were going to talk about - he could probably guide someone through this in his sleep. But because she made him nervous. It’s one thing to see someone in a video and talk via DMs and an entirely different thing to facetime that person. What if she thought that he was ugly?

As the thought entered his mind, he shook his head as if trying to shake the thought away. Why did he care? He was just helping her with a problem. It didn’t matter if she found him ugly because this was a one-time thing. He would never see her again.

The butterflies turned into a tight knot in his stomach.

Azriel let out a low groan and went to his wardrobe to get dressed. He put on a black T-shirt and black jeans - his standard uniform. He dried his hair hastily with the towel before throwing it in the hamper.

At 10.00 on the dot, Azriel’s phone started ringing on the kitchen island. Or vibrating actually, since he always kept the sound off.

Unknown number is calling

Azriel stared at his phone, suddenly feeling very shy and questioning everything he knew about computers. He checked his reflection in the microwave and let out a deep breath before answering.

“Hello, this is Azriel.” His voice was hoarse, sounding deeper than usual.

“Oh, hi!” A cheery voice said and he was a bit taken aback. In his stupid brain, he had imagined her answering in her whispering voice. “Is this… is this Shadowsinger?”

Azriel decided that her normal voice was just as wonderful as her whispering voice.

“Yeah, this is Shadowsinger. Or well, that’s not my name. I’m obviously not called that. That would be weird…” Azriel babbled, growing more and more self-conscious by the second. He took a deep breath. “I’m Azriel.”

“Hi, Azriel. I’m Elain.” He could hear the smile in her voice and it made him think of sunshine and flowers.

Elain. The name suited her. It was a welsh name that meant fawn. Or at least that’s what Feyre told him one night when she had spent three hours going over possible baby names with their entire friend group (After three hours, Azriel, Cassian, Mor and Nesta had been very drunk and started suggesting weird names from TV such as Khaleesi, Anakin and Buffy which led to Rhys kicking them out.) But Elain wasn’t a weird name. It was pretty. Just like the person that the name belonged to.

“Hello, Elain,” Azriel said quickly when he realized that he had been quiet for a short while.

“Azriel is… an interesting name.” He couldn’t tell from her tone if it was good interesting or bad interesting.

He chuckled. “Yeah, try growing up with the nickname ‘Ass’ in school. Not Az. Ass.”

He could hear Elain laugh and it warmed his heart. “Oh no,” she giggled.

There was a stretch of silence then, both of them unsure of how to begin this.

“So...” Elain started after a few moments. “How do I block words on Youtube, Azriel?”

As soon as the words traveled through the phone, he wanted to ask her to say his name again, but that would be weird. So instead he cleared his throat and got himself into work mode.

“Well, I didn’t know if you were a visual learner, but I created a Youtube account yesterday so I could show you what to do, and you could just follow along if you like?”

God, was he doing too much? Would she find this creepy? Maybe he should just tell her what to do without video.

But to his surprise, Elain did not sound creeped out. “Really? That would be so helpful! How...How can I see your screen though?”

Azriel huffed a laugh. It was kind of cute that she was so oblivious when it came to technology even though she had 250k followers on Youtube.”Well, we’ll change to FaceTime and I will be able to flip the screen and just show you what I’m doing. Is that okay with you?”

He was met with silence.

“Elain?”

“Oh, sorry. I was nodding,” she laughed. “Yes, that’s fine.”

Azriel clicked the icon for FaceTime on his screen and within seconds, her face filled his screen. Her brown hair was in a high ponytail and she wore a mint green hoodie. She wasn’t wearing any makeup and Azriel had to catch his breath. God, why did she have to be so beautiful? He realized that he was staring at her through the screen but his brain wouldn’t form words.

“Hi,” Elain smiled, her cheeks turning pink. “I kind of forgot that we would see each other and not just a screen. Sorry that I look like a mess. I��m going to the gym after this...” She gestured to her hair and Azriel had no idea what mess she was referring to.

“What? You look wonderful,” he said and as soon as the words registered in his brain he wished to be swallowed up by a hole in the ground. He winced. “I mean... I just–” he was making it worse. Lovely. “I just meant that you don’t look like a mess.”

She gave him the sweetest smile. “Well, You don’t look too bad yourself.” She was blushing even more now. Was he blushing too? He had never blushed in his life, so he didn’t even know what that would feel like, but he did feel a bit hot.

Azriel cleared his throat. “So,” he started. “I’m going to flip my screen and film my laptop now. Tell me if you can see what I’m doing.”

“Okay!”

Azriel logged into Youtube and held his phone in front of the screen. “Can you see?” He held the phone in front of his computer, and even though she couldn’t see him anymore, he could still see her.

“Just a second,” she said and held up a finger. She was moving and so was her camera. When she reappeared, Azriel was very happy that she couldn’t see him. She was wearing glasses and they made her, if possible, even more attractive. Her beautiful golden eyes looked even bigger. Like a fawn, Azriel thought to himself.

“Yes, I can see when you have the phone so close to the screen,” she answered.

“Okay, good. Are you near your own computer?”

“Yes! And I’m already logged into my Youtube account.”

Azriel nodded, even though she couldn’t see him. “Great. Then you should see your profile picture here in the corner.” He showed her where to look.

“Mhm, I see it.”

She was focusing so hard on the screen, she had probably forgotten that he could see her. She was leaning in close enough for Azriel to see her freckles.

I want to kiss every single freckle on her body.

The thought entered his brain before he could even react and he was very happy that she wasn’t a mind reader. He tried to ignore her face on his screen and focus on his task.

“You will click the photo, and that should display a menu,” he explained. “Like this. You are going to click ‘Youtube Studio’ here.”

Elain scrunched up her nose in concentration and Azriel thought that he might die from the cuteness.

“Done! What next?”

“Okay, then you click ‘Settings’ at the bottom here,” he showed her where to look. “And then you choose ‘Community’”

“Community?” She asked and bit her lip.

Azriel wanted to bite that lip too.

“Yeah,” he answered, happy that he didn’t have to come up with more advanced words.

“And then you scroll down to ‘blocked words’ here,” he instructed. “Are you there?”

“Yes, I found it,” she answered with a smile.

“Well, aren’t you a gold star student?” Azriel joked and Elain’s face went from smiling to blushing in a nano-second.

“Thank you,” she mumbled.

There was a beat of silence again. Azriel wanted to kick himself.

“What now?” Elain asked in a low voice, still determined to get this over with.

“Well, now you just fill in the words you want to block. Make sure that you separate each word or phrase with a comma. And then you just press save and that’s it.”

“Oh, okay. That was easier than I imagined.”

Silence again.

“Can you manage from here?”

Elain bit her lip again. She was staring somewhere behind her phone; probably at her computer. “Ehm, I’m not sure what words to block.”

Azriel thought back to the awful comments he had seen and could think of a handful of words.

“Well, just block the words that these commenters often use, and maybe block bad words in general? You can review your comments later, so if nice comments are being filtered, you can choose to restore them while deleting the bad ones.”

Elain nodded and Azriel didn’t know if he should hang up or stay. So he stayed. His camera was still facing his computer, and Elain was still filming herself. She looked lost in thought.

“Are you okay, Elain?” Azriel asked cautiously, afraid to startle her.

“Hmm?” She looked straight at the camera now, eyes still glossy.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just… tired. I really like doing ASMR, but this sucks. I just want to make people happy and spread positivity, you know? And still, I have to deal with this.”

“Yeah, that must suck.”

Azriel had a question that he had been burning to ask, but he didn’t know if it was too personal. However, as he told himself before, they were never going to see each other again. He could always ask, and the worst thing he could get was a ‘no, I don’t want to talk about it’.

So he asked.

“Elain, can I ask you something?”

She nodded absentmindedly.

“Yesterday you wrote that you had blocked those trolls multiple times. Are you certain that they’re the same people?”

She nodded again. “Yes. In the beginning, they were a bit more creative with the usernames which threw me for a loop. But I realized that it was the same IP addresses every single time, so yeah. I know. I mean, I get hate from complete strangers too, but these people are a bit more persistent .” The last word was spoken through her teeth. She looked upset, but she also looked like she wanted to hide it. Azriel decided to switch his camera back to his face so she wouldn’t feel as vulnerable. And so he wouldn’t feel like a creep for staring at her.

Elain looked a bit startled. “Oh, hi again,” she smiled, but it wasn’t as genuine anymore.

“Do you know these people?” Azriel asked through gritted teeth. He didn’t know why, but he felt very protective all of a sudden.

“Yes, I do. At least the three people that commented yesterday…” she bit her lip again, probably contemplating if she should tell him more. “It’s my ex.”

Azriel tried his hardest to not look surprised and pissed off at the same time. “All three of them?”

With a surprised look on her face, she shook her head quickly. “Oh, god no. No. Just one. His name is Graysen.”

MortalGraysen. Azriel remembered the username because it had sounded so stupid.

“And the other two?”

She let out a long breath. “His stupid best friends, Amarantha and Hybern. Stupid names, right?”

Azriel could only agree. “Very. Why is he bothering you like this, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Elain took off her glasses and massaged her temple lightly. “I dumped him after he slept with Amarantha and then…” she chewed the inside of her cheek. “Then he told all of our friends that he only slept with her because I was so boring in…'' her cheeks flushed again and she didn’t finish that sentence. She didn’t have to. Azriel understood perfectly.

“Okay, so he really is an asshole then.”

“The biggest.”

“Well, I don’t think you can block IP addresses on Youtube, but you could always try to block their names. It might work for a while at least?” Azriel suggested. He needed to help her.

“That’s smart!” she exclaimed and sat her phone down to type. He was very happy that she had leaned it against something so he could still see her.

“What other words should I add?”

Azriel thought back to the comments he had seen. Boobs, nudes, cock, jerk off and tits were all words that she should block, but they were also words he didn’t feel like saying in front of her.

“Just check their old comments and block the words they have used.”

“I’ve deleted the comments, but I remember a few words.” She typed again and Azriel could tell that she was uncomfortable.

“Hey, just block all sexual words and maybe swear words? That should probably work for a while?”

“Okay.” She typed again while Azriel waited patiently. Honestly, he would probably wait forever if it meant that he could watch her on his screen like this.

He felt like a teenager with a crush on the coolest girl in school. He knew that she was out of his league, but his body had not gotten the memo…

“I think I’m done,” she announced and smiled at her phone. At him.

Azriel smiled back. “Which words did you write?” he asked out of curiosity.

Elain picked up her phone and switched the camera so he could see her computer. In the box for ‘blocked words’ she had indeed written a few words.

Blocked words Graysen, Hybern, Amarantha, Boring, Dumb, Stupid, Weird, Ugly, Penis, Vagina, Sex, Sexy, Breasts, Feet, Ejaculation, Nipple, Damn, Fuck, Darn it, Hell,

“Do you think that’s enough?” She asked him in a low voice as if she was ashamed of what she was showing him.

Azriel had to bite his lip in order to keep himself from grinning. It was kind of sweet that she had written down the more technical terms, and not any words that would actually be used on the internet.

“Well, I think it’s a good start,” Azriel answered. “But I think there are a few more words that you should add. And maybe some you can remove from the list.”

“Which ones can I remove?” She leaned closer to her computer, probably trying to find the redundant words.

“I don’t think that trolls will use Darn it, for example.”

Elain pressed the backspace key a few times.

“And which words should I add?” she asked the screen. Her glasses had slid down her nose a bit and Azriel had an urge to reach through the screen and push them back into place.

Azriel scratched his chin, thinking about the best way to phrase it. “Maybe a few synonyms for the words you have written down?”

“Such as?”

Azriel held his breath. “Well…” Azriel hesitated. Was she serious or was she just trying to get him to say dirty words? “I don’t think that internet trolls will use the word vagina.”

“Oh,” her ears turned a lovely pink color. “So I should just add synonyms for that word then?”

“Sure.”

Elain looked lost in thought for a moment before typing again, this time a bit more aggressively. “There are quite a lot,” she muttered.

“Really?” Azriel could only think of two; pussy and cunt.

“Yes. I googled it.”

Of course, she googled a list of synonyms for vagina. Azriel couldn’t hold back his grin this time. She gave him a look he couldn’t decipher. “What’s so funny?”

“Oh, nothing,” he said, still grinning. “Can you read me this list of synonyms?” he teased, thinking that she would tell him to fuck off.

He was wrong.

“Well, there’s pussy, cunt, vajayjay, punani, ho-ha, flower…” she drifted off and Azriel could tell the exact moment it hit her that she was reading these words to a man she didn’t know. “Oh, god,” she groaned and hid her face in her hand. “Please ignore everything that just happened.”

Azriel chuckled. “I rather not. What’s the weirdest word on the list?”

He was invested now.

Elain looked at him through the screen again, but this time he could tell that she was suppressing a smile. “The weirdest one must be fish taco, or bald man in a boat. One just sounds disgusting, and the other one is just… weird? Like, I don’t get it.”

“I think that the ‘bald man’ is supposed to be the...uh,” Azriel could not finish that sentence. He knew that he was blushing now, too.

“Oh,” she said looking surprised, and then disgusted. “Oh, that just makes it worse.”

The laugh that followed was contagious.

As she laughed, Azriel thought back to the day before. To when he had watched her video to fall asleep. In her videos, she was so calm and collected - the complete opposite from this bubbly, laughing person on his screen. Both sides of her were equally fascinating to Azriel and he wished that he could get to know her better. She was so easy to talk to. Azriel never found anyone easy to talk to. At parties, you could find him in the corner with a drink and a good book. He was not a talkative man. But with Elain, he wanted to talk. And he wanted to listen. He wanted her to tell him about her day and her life, which was absurd. They had been talking for like 30 minutes. They didn’t know each other. They would never get to know each other.

“Thank you for helping me with this, Azriel,” Elain said when the laughter had died down. “I really appreciate it. I’m sorry for being a bit weird and reading you that list. I hope that I didn’t cross a line or…”

Azriel held up a hand to show her that he didn’t mind. “It’s no problem, honestly. I can’t remember the last time I laughed this much.”

Elain shifted in her seat and picked up her phone again, moving it closer to her face again. “Just like you couldn’t remember the last time you had slept well?”

For a second, Azriel was truly afraid that she was a mind reader because that meant that she had heard him think that he wanted to kiss all her freckles. And then, he remembered the comment he had left on her video a few days earlier.

“Yeah, just like that.”

She leaned her head to the side and regarded him through the phone. “Is that true? You can’t remember having a good night’s sleep?”

Azriel shook his head. “I have suffered from insomnia since I was a child. Sleep has never been a positive experience for me.”

He had never opened up like this to anyone. His former girlfriend never understood why he was awake and why he hated sleepovers. The insomnia had definitely destroyed a few relationships over the years. He could tell that Elain wanted to ask about it, but she didn’t. He really appreciated that.

“Well, I’m happy that I can help you with that anyway. It makes me feel less horrible for making you help me with this on a Saturday morning,” she said and gestured to her computer.

“You didn’t make me do anything. I offered. I was happy to help.”

She gave him the sweetest smile yet and Azriel was surprised when he didn’t melt into a puddle. “Well, thank you. Can I pay you for your trouble?”

Before she had even finished the sentence Azriel shook his head. “No, Elain. I really don’t want you to pay me.”

“Okay,” she bit one side of her lip again. Those damn lips. “Can I give you something else then?”

Did her tone sound flirty? Azriel didn’t know. He might just be hopeful because he started imagining all kinds of things she could give him.

“Like, maybe you could tell me your favorite trigger and I’ll make sure that my next video includes it?”

Azriel swallowed, his throat suddenly feeling very thick. “You don’t have to do that, I...”

“But I want to,” she interrupted. “What’s your favorite trigger?”

Azriel was trying to figure out a way to tell her that she was his favorite trigger without sounding like a serial killer. “Well, I don’t really know. I like when you whisper,” he tried, and when she smiled and nodded encouragingly, he continued. “Honestly Elain, I have tried to watch other ASMR videos but they don’t make me fall asleep. Your videos make me fall asleep within minutes. Whatever magic you put into your videos, that’s probably my trigger,” he half-joked.

“Hmm,” Elain regarded him. “I’ll figure something out.” She winked at him teasingly and Azriel hated that this was the first and last time he would ever get to talk to her.

“Well, I really have to go,” Elain declared. “I’m meeting a friend at the gym.”

“Yeah, I have to go too,” Azriel lied. He would have canceled any plan he ever had if he could continue this conversation.

“Well, thank you again for your help, Azriel.”

“Don’t mention it.”

She removed her glasses and looked straight into her camera. It felt as if she was staring into his soul.

“Goodbye, Shadowsinger.”

“Goodbye, Flower Girl.”

The call disconnected and he was left staring at his apps. Not a single one interested him.

With a heavy sigh, Azriel walked to his bed. He was planning to lay down and scream into a pillow when he received a text from a number he didn’t recognize.

New message I searched for a few more synonyms, and this one for penis is horrendous. Just listen to this: Meat banjo. Isn’t that just horrible? I’m definitely blocking that word.

Azriel couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up from his chest. It really was a horrendous synonym and he could imagine her sitting in front of her computer, making disgusted faces at the various words on her screen.

New message Oh, this is Elain, by the way.

And that’s when it hit him.

She had texted him and he could see her number. That meant that he could save her number on his phone. It also meant…

Well, he honestly didn’t know what it meant, but he didn’t feel like screaming into his pillow anymore.

[catxsnow]

MY MISTAKES J.C.

Request: Could I request a oneshot for John Constantine with a protege/child figure where they get hurt during one of the many shenanigans they've gotten up to? Reader is in their middle to late teens. Either gender neutral or female reade. Please and thank you! P.s I love ur writings.

Warning: canon-violence, swears

A/N: Did - Did I just post a fic in the middle of the day?? Yes. Yes I did. You know why? Because I’m posting a SECOND one tonight to make up for last night :) 

Alright look, I’m not gonna start writing for Constantine but this was cute so I couldn’t say no. 

Word Count: 2k

John Constantine was insane.

You had been saying it since the start of your adventures with him and the more that you were with him, the more you kept saying it. He was a crazy old fool who kept putting himself in situations what always came back to bite him in the ass.

When Zatanna dropped you off at his front door, he had no desire to take care of you. What the hell would he want with some saucy teen that would only get in his way and stop him from doing what he enjoyed most - liquor and sex. Unfortunately, he couldn't exactly say no to Zatanna, and when he saw just how powerful you were, he didn't have much of a choice.

You were young, and if that power within you wasn't controlled early, god knows what would happen. Constantine had fucked up a lot in his life, but maybe helping you was something that would make up for some of it.

So, he taught you everything that he knew - at least the not so dark aspects of it. The last thing he wanted to do was ruin the rest of your life with tainted magic that would haunt you forever. Life with you as his side wasn't all bad. He had someone to watch his back, keep him company, even boost his mood when he was down.

John faced a lot of hardships with you. A lot of the time he had no idea what the hell do to with you - comfort you, give you advice  - he wasn't good at any of that. He had to help you get through your first heartbreak, the doubt within yourself, hell he even struggled with looking you in the eyes and telling you everything was going to be okay.

He lied a lot.

You liked to consider John as more than just a mentor to you - he was your best friend. Even though there was a considerable age gap between the two of you, you were on the same level of humor and wit. A lot of the time you felt as if you were meant to be at his side. Zatanna finding you was pure accident, but being under John's protection almost seemed too good to be true.

Sure, he was fucked up in almost every way possible. He pissed everybody off, drank too much, his past was horrifying. Somehow, none of it scared you off, and in some ways, you made John a better person. To be responsible for just a kid - a 'I'm only a year and a half away from being an adult go fuck yourself' - made him get his act together.

Between making fun of his clothes, the way he talked, even his rudimentary way of living, the bond you formed was unbreakable. You would never admit it, but you looked to him as a parental figure. A fucked up parent who didn't ask to be or know what he was doing, but a parent nonetheless.

Your little 'missions' would usually leave some scrapes and bruises - most times blood of whatever victim you were killing off. For the most part, the most severe pain you had to put up with was John's hangover's. He had a lot of those. After being in this line of work for only a few years, you couldn't blame him.

Then there was the time that it was more than just a cut that could be magically healed. It was supposed to be an easy exorcism. You and John had done dozens of those which meant you went in there confident. Your guard was down and you weren't prepared for things to go sideways.

Things went bad, really bad.

John was left to make the tough call of saving the little girl that had been possessed, or saving you. He couldn't do both, he wished he could do both. However, he knew if he had saved you and not the innocent kid, you'd rip his head off. So, he had to bite the bullet and watch as you fell to the ground screaming and he saved the girl.

Sitting in this hospital with you unconscious on the bed, wires hooked up to you that weren't really doing anything against the magic coursing through you, he wished he made the other choice. Throughout all his years he had sacrificed lives to save his own skin, why did he start now with saving you?

"Shoulda never let Z to convince me to take you," John scoffed to himself. He wasn't strong enough to heal you, not by himself. His energy was already drained from taking care of the demon from earlier, he wasn't sure if he could do any magic at that point. "Can't tell if it was me or you that was the dumb one, huh?"

He felt like a fool talking to you. Obviously you couldn't hear a word he was saying, but part of him was just hoping you did. Maybe it brought him comfort, maybe he was just an old coot who didn't know how to accept this worry running through him. Either way, grabbing onto your cold hand sent chills up his spine.

"I'm sorry," John's eyes sealed shut. His fists gripped the edge of your bed as he tried to keep himself level headed. The demon that did this to you faced a fate worth than death for what it did. "I shouldn't have dragged you along, you deserve a better life. Not one with me leading you. I've made a fuck ton o' mistakes and I guess now you're one of 'em."

When his eyes peeled back open, a few stray tears slipped down his cheeks. John had faced a lot of evil in his life, he was so used to death and destruction that it no longer fazed him. Guess you made a little weak spot in his heart. For the first time in a long time, John felt grief for someone who wasn't even dead yet. He was scared.

"Never thought I'd see the day that John Constantine cries over someone." John looked up in the reflection of the window. He hastily wiped away his wet cheeks and scrambled up to his feet to see his visitor. Zatanna looked between him and you. "How are they?" Concern filled her voice.

"Needs help," John stared down at you. Zatanna stood on the opposite side of the bed. She placed her hand over yours, the unfamiliar lack of power caught her off guard. "Your help, I'm too drained to do any magic, at least by myself. I can't let them suffer like this, not for my mistakes."

"I know, John," Zatanna assured. Constantine wasn't sure how she knew that the two of you had gotten in trouble or exactly which hospital you were in. At that moment, he didn't care. He was more happy to see her than he ever had in his entire life. Zatanna could save you, if there was anyone out there that could, it was her.

"Let's get to work."

><

"I'm fine John, would you fuck off?"

John never thought he'd see the day where he was happy to hear you lip him off. In all your time together the second that you retorted any snide comment towards him, he would scowl. Now, he couldn't hold back a smile. He had been worried about you, more worried than he was for anyone.

Zatanna was the one to really save you. She had overworked herself to bring you back to the land of the living. It was worth it, she saw a lot of greatness within you. You rubbed off on John, he was becoming a different man than she knew a lot of her life. He was better with you at his side. Zatanna feared what he would become if he lost you - especially when it was his fault.

When you finally made it back home, John hovered over you like a mother bear. He didn't let you leave the house and he certainly didn't allow you to join him for any missions until you were 100% again. It was beyond frustrating for you, but you had to admit you were glad to see that someone cared about you this much.

You were bed ridden for a few days. Too weak to get up unless necessary but strong enough to get yourself out of the damned hospital. John became your 'bitch boy' for those days and you made sure to take well good advantage of it. By the time that you were up and walking, you had gotten annoyed of his hovering.

"'scuse me for being worried," John rolled his eyes. "Don't happen to often you know, you should be considered lucky."

"Lucky?" You scoffed. You hadn't tested your magic yet, your whole body still felt weak and you weren't about to put yourself back into a comma just to see if you could light John's cigarette with the snap of your fingers. "Anything involving you is far from lucky. I should be considered dead is what I should be."

He pulled a smoke out of his pocket, he forgot how peaceful it was without your comebacks. You narrowed your eyes as he lit it up and took a drag. Constantine knew that you hated when he smoked inside and yet he continuously did it anyways.

So, to test out how strong you were getting, you tried to disintegrate his cigarette. Your eyes narrowed with concentration and somehow, it had worked. John cried out as his cigarette suddenly burst into flames and fell to dust on the floor. You felt fatigued by the small spell, but at least you were getting back to normal.

Constantine glared at you. He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out another one. Without breaking eye contact, he lit it up and took another breath of the nicotine.

"Twat," you muttered. The petty side of him was something that would never go away - no matter how close to death either of you were. It was who he was. John missed seeing your smiling face in the few days that you were out. He never realized the comfort that it brought him.

Without another word, you sluggishly walked back to your bedroom. You needed rest, as much as you tried to deny it. Zatanna had done a good job of fixing you up but you still had a long way to go. It was going to take time, but you knew damn well that John was going to be at your side through it all -whether you wanted him to be or not.

"Berk!" Constantine yelled after you. A smile toyed at his lips. As much as you did fight and bicker with him, he couldn't imagine what his life would be like without you in it now. Never in his life did he imagine he'd be some sort of father figure, with you... he enjoyed it. He was proud of you.

The thought of losing you to some stupid mistake that he made nearly destroyed him. He took you in to make his wrongs right and he would have lost all of that alongside with you. But, it was more than that. Constantine cared for you, losing you meant he would be losing a piece of himself.

There was already so much of him tainted by the evil of the world, he couldn't bare the thought of losing the little good part of his soul. As much as he hated to admit it, John needed you far more than you ever needed him.

[hanniiesuckle17]

Offstage

A/n: y'all about to get on me for doing another Jisung imagine………..shut up he is my soulmate okay.💕💕💕 if I got request for other people I wouldnt do him as much😂😂 also this is probably one of the longest imagines ive ever written holy crap

Member: Han Jisung ft Bangchan, Felix, Changbin, and Seungmin

WARNINGS: Swearing (it’s me guys come on, also tumblr I put it in the warnings stop flagging my posts), Jisung being the cocky bitch he is.

Summary: The Dance Dept. and Theatre Dept. have never gotten along. It’s just the stereotype of the arts. However, the teachers are done with that and have decided to include the Dance Dept in the school’s musical this year. What happens when the Queen of the Thespians and the King of the Dancers are forced to cooperate?

Genre: fluff, comedy, romance, enemies to lovers, highschool au, theatre au

“WE’RE WHAT?” I screamed at my closest friend, Bangchan. He took a deep breath before putting his hands on my shoulders. “Y/n, it’s not the end of the world.” No. This was the end of the world.

“Chan, we aren’t seriously letting those cocky small-brained dancers into the show are we?” He nodded and placed a stack of papers on the table. “I just got the notice from Mrs.Kwon.” Fuming, I flopped down in one of the auditorium chairs. I had worked my ass off to get to the status I had in the theatre department. This was my third lead and I wasn’t about to let some dancers ruin the show I cared about.

“Think about it this way. Legally Blonde is a huge dance show. Now some of the pressure for choreography is off. I talked to this guy Felix and he said he would choreograph.” Chan was my best friend and he was graduating this year. This was his last chance to direct one of our shows before he left. If he had to compromise….then I guess I could. “How does Seungmin feel about this?” A crash was heard from the wings.

“MINHO! I NEED YOU TO NOT DROP THE $300 SET PIECE! PLEASE!”

We both flinched at Seungmin’s loud voice. “He’ll be fine……probably. He’s the Stage Manager he is used to problems popping up.”

“MINHO! I SWEAR TO GOD!”

He sighed and shifted through the papers on the director’s table. He looked stressed. This was obviously not how he wanted his show to go. “You want me to stay with you for the extra auditions?” Running a hand through his hair, he turned to me with a tired smile. “No, it’s okay. Woojin wanted to go wig shopping with you anyway. We can’t have a brunette, Elle.” Playfully he shoved me up the aisle.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah! List will be posted outside.”

My eyes bore holes into the clock on the wall. I tried to drown out the loud boys next to me. Felix and Hyunjin were part of the dance department and had too much energy in my opinion. The second the bell rang I sprinted out of my seat and raced to the auditorium. Seungmin and Woojin stood in front of the call board when I arrived.

“What’s up?” Seungmin turned to me with a look that could kill. “Why are there dancers in my show?” Shrugging I turned my eyes to the list and scanned through the names.

“Technically it’s Chan’s show-”

“IT’S MY GOD DAMN SHOW TOO!”

“Ah Fuck.”

The two boys turned to me and asked what was wrong. Without another word I pointed to a name next to the male lead spot. “Han Jisung,” Woojin read aloud. A loud laugh could be heard coming down the hall. We all turned to find Jisung, Felix, and Hyunjin strolling down the hall towards the theatre. They stopped when they saw us.

“L/n.”

“Han.”

“Tightass.”

“Douchebag.”

“You want me.”

“To jump of a cliff? Yes.”

Smirking he ran a hand through his brown hair. “See you in there.” If only real daggers ended up in his back instead of my glare. “Can he even sing? How could Bangchan give Emmett to that……asshole.” Sharing a look the two of them shrugged before opening the door of the auditorium and entering.

The house lights were on and Chan was standing at the edge of a stage with a clipboard. I took a seat in the front row next to my friends Irene and Changbin. Seungmin and Jeongin joined Chan on stage and waited for everyone to quiet down.

“Welcome guys and congratulations for making it onto the Legally Blonde cast and crew!” Everyone clapped and cheered as Chan smiled broadly. “I’m Bangchan your director. This is Seungmin, your Stage Manager. And that is Jeongin our Assistant Director. Cast if you have any problems come to me or Jeongin, and crew you can go to Seungmin.”

Chan hesitated before speaking again. “Just make sure it is a real problem before going to Seungmin. We can’t have another Little Mermaid fiasco again.” The theatre kids laughed, but an obvious silence came from the dance crew.

“Okay. Y/n once again is our amazing lead!” I smiled and waved to my friends who were cheering. “And we have a new addition to the cast! Han Jisung will be playing Emmett, and Hwang Hyunjin will be playing Warner.” I felt eyes on me and turned to find Han smirking a few rows back. Rolling my eyes, I turned back around to listen to the rest of the cast being read off. I congratulated Changbin for getting Callahan and continued half-listening to the rest of the speech.

After the welcoming speech, Chan handed out the scripts and wanted to go directly into blocking. He told us the scene number and the characters needed jumped on stage. Chan amazingly lead and directed us through starting positions for the scene while answering Felix’s many questions about choreography.

Han was polite enough. He took Chan’s coaching well and did okay for his first day. I almost forgot that he was a major dickhead for a moment. Bangchan decided to not do musical numbers on the first day but told us to go home and practice for tomorrow’s first Saturday rehearsal where we would start doing choreography and songs.

 My old car sputtered to a stop in the school parking lot. I was maybe an hour early to rehearsal, but that never hurt. I pulled my crop top down and adjusted my leggings and flannel. Reluctantly, I came ready to dance today.

On my way to the auditorium, I passed the dance and stopped when I heard a voice.

She was so close she could taste it

She’s gotta chip on her shoulder

Guess you never can tell

With little Miss Woods comma Elle

Hesitantly I entered the dance studio with my duffle on my shoulder. I was shocked to see Jisung standing in front of the mirror focused on adjusting to the high note, repeating the last few bars over and over again.

“Maybe try singing from your diaphragm.” He jumped at my voice and turned, shocked to see me leaning against the wall. “I mean, you aren’t bad. You just need a little coaching.” I threw my duffle on the ground and walked over to him. It was then I noticed something different about him. That cocky, confident, headass air he had was gone. He looked almost nervous as I came to stand in front of him.

Grabbing his wrist I placed his hand on the upper part of my stomach. “With little Miss Woods comma Elle,” His eyes widened and stared straight into mine. “See. It’s a completely different muscle.” He nodded and continued looking into my eyes.

“Now you.” Placing my hand on top of his I moved it to his own stomach above his diaphragm. “Go on. Try the last stanza.” He looked down at his stomach and took a breath of hair before looking back at me. “Guess you never can tell, with little Miss Woods comma Elle,”

“Yeah! That was great!” I didn’t seem to notice the smile that spread across my face. “Feel better doesn’t it?” He nodded, shocked at his own voice. “That’s actually really cool. Thank you.” He grabbed a water bottle near his bag and handed it to me.

“No problem. You aren’t as bad as I thought you were going to be, Han.”

“Just because I’m a dancer doesn’t mean I can’t sing.”

I shrugged and took a small sip of his water before handing it back to Jisung. “So what is this show actually about?” I laughed and took his script which was sticking out of his bag. Surprisingly it was marked up with notes, and question marks, and highlighted to all hell. “So there is this girl, Elle, that’s me. And after a terrible breakup with her boyfriend, Warner, ‘Hyunjin’, she decides to follow him to Harvard law school so she can win him back.”

“Okay. But he broke up with her?”

“She’s not very smart.”

"Anyway, she goes and she realizes she sucks at law school. So she meets you, Emmett, who is like a Teacher's Assistant who grows a soft spot for her. He helps her study and she actually gets really good at law. So the whole story is about overcoming adversity and stereotype and self-worth and strength. And Elle actually ends up telling Warner off and ends up with Emmett."

Jisung nods along and listens intently the whole time I speak. "This must be your favorite show if you know so much about it." I shook my head and sat down against the mirror. To my surprise, Han sat in front of me. “No. My favorite show is a little more morbid than this.” He scoffed and took a swig of water.

“Aren’t musicals like all happy and we love life and let’s all sing a song!”

“What is it that you think we do?”

“That.”

I sighed, seeing the stubborn personality he had start to shine through. “Listen if you are going to be in this show you have to understand that theatre is a way of expression.” He looked down at the floor. “Like...dance?” My eyes shot up to his face. “Yeah, actually. It’s not enough to just act the character’s feelings. You have to think of them as a real person and find a moment that you can connect to their feelings.”

He seemed kind of spaced and simply stared at me. “Well- um...my friend is in a show next weekend and I think it is a show you might really connect with. Would you maybe want to go? I mean, to see what theatre is actually like.” Why was I offering this to him? I didn’t care. Well, I care about the show.

“With you?”

“It could be like a bonding thing. I’d rather not hate my co-star.”

“Okay. I’ll see you next weekend.”

Looking at the time, we both scrambled to get our things and race to the theater. I couldn’t help but smile at Jisung as we both sat in the back row listening to the schedule being called out.

Nervously I twisted the ring on my right hand. Since when did I become nervous to see Jisung. It had only been a week of rehearsals, but somehow I had grown to like him. He was nice and cracked jokes with me in between scenes. Jisung had also stayed behind several times to help me with choreography.

I smoothed out the dark green dress I had chosen to wear. Was it too tight? Irene did tend to call it my ‘Ass for Days’ dress. The heels I was wearing were also starting to hurt. I stood outside the theater waiting for Jisung. The sun had just started to set and my friend Rocky sent me a text that the show was starting soon and he reserved my seats.

“Holy shit...”

Looking up I saw Jisung stop in his tracks. His eyes looked me up and down, but not in a lustful way. More like a surprised way. I couldn’t help but look at him the same way. He wore a casual fitted black suit and a white dress shirt underneath without a tie. His brown hair which was usually fluffy and tousled was now purposely parted on the side and combed through.

“Hi...”

“Hi...”

“You look grea-” “You look beautiful-”

“Sorry...”

Holy fuck. He only looks hot because he is in a suit. That’s just science. All guys are hot in suits. It’s totally not because his hair looks great and I could see how slim his waist was compared to his chest. Oh fuck. He is in suits for the entire second act. Am I going to think like this every time I see him in a suit?

“We should go in!” I said interrupting my own less than pure thoughts. He cleared his throat and nodded, closing the gap between us as I turned to go inside. I mentally scolded myself for blushing when I felt his slender fingers grazing my lower back.

Once we (mostly me) were emotionally and hormonally safe in our seats, the two of us started talking. “So L/n, what is the show called?” He turned to me with a nervous smile. It’s not cute Y/n. It’s the suit. I swear to god it’s the suit. “It’s called A Chorus Line. It is a very dance-heavy show and the actors don’t leave the stage unless it’s intermission.”He nodded and looked around the auditorium for a moment before turning back to me.

“What’s it about?”

“Oh. Um. Well, it is about an audition for the ensemble of a Broadway show. And it talks about the lives and trials each person has had to go through just to be on stage. It’s a really great show.”

Just as he was about to speak the lights dimmed and the orchestra picked up. Throughout the show, I tried to focus on Rocky as he played Paul San Marco, but I couldn’t keep from glancing at Jisung. I couldn’t help but be fascinated by his reaction. He listened intently to the stories and monologues and when intermission came around he asked me all sorts of questions about the show and which character my friend was.

The lights dimmed once more and I couldn’t help but notice that Jisung’s hand gripped the chair tightly during the scene where Paul fell and injured his knee. Worried I looked up to see slow quiet tears on his cheeks. I turned back to the stage and looked up as the scene progressed. Carefully, I let my hand graze over his and I held it lightly. I heard him take a breath and glance over at me, and I hoped my face still seemed intent on the performance.

I tried to ignore the way my heart started beating faster when he moved his hand to lace his fingers with mine.

“I really do appreciate this opportunity to work with you.” My fingers pushed a piece of blonde hair behind my ear as I sat down on the desk near Changbin. We were running the assault scene in the wig and with full set today for the dress rehearsal. Usually I would have met up with Jisung and worked on lines together, but his call time was later than mine. “I have learned so much.” I could see Changbin give me the signal with his eyebrow. An almost ‘are you ready’ secret message that we had between us.

“No, what you’ve learned isn’t the point. You have instincts...and instincts, legal instincts or otherwise can’t be taught.”

His fingers tapped on the desk while he sustained eye contact. If I hadn’t known it was fake, a shudder would go down my spine. My ears picked up the auditorium door opening and closing, but I remained in character, waiting for Changbin to act on his cue.

“Trust... your instincts.”

There was a pause and I continued acting oblivious. ‘Suddenly’ Changbin’s lips were crashing against mine and his hands were groping at my ass. After waiting for my cue from Hyori, I pushed Bin away and did the slap we practiced. Bin laughed quite sleazily and touched his cheek. “I thought you were smarter than that.”

“Awesome! Let's change the set for Elle and Emmett.” Bangchan called from the director’s desk.

Turning I saw Jisung standing in the middle of the aisle, his grip tight on his backpack. He wore the tank top and sweats he always wore after coming from dance practice and a backwards white cap. Even from the audience I could see a mix of emotions on his face, and none were good. Things between Jisung and I had become more flowing. It turns out it wasn’t just the suit. However, I didn’t want to get into anything serious with my castmate. I didn’t even know if he liked me.

I jumped off of the stage to let Seungmin yell at the underclassmen to move sets. Running up to Jisung I greeted him with a smile. “Hi!” His face still looked sad, but he tried to cover it with a small smile. “Hi...I saw your scene. You were great. I almost couldn’t tell you were acting.”

“Thanks! You look cute in hats.” Playfully I grabbed it, letting his fluffy hair loose and placing the white hat over my blonde wig. “Yeah well, I like your natural hair better.” That same sad smile came over his face. It didn’t quite reach his eyes and I was surprised I took notice of a detail so small.

“Hey...you look nervous. Are you okay?” My hand reached out for his arm and he looked down at the touch. “Yeah. I’m fine, Y/n.” I smirked and looked up at the boy before putting the hat back on his head. “What? No more L/n?” He shrugged, but I saw a flash of a smile. “Will you help me with choreo after rehearsal?” He nodded and tossed his stuff in a chair next to Hyunjin. With a smile I thanked him and walked over to Bangchan who gave me notes on the next scene.

Three hours later Jisung and I were in the dance studio running over the biggest number I had. “And mark the lift, 1 2 3 4. Good!” He smiled and turned off the music.

“I mean, you aren’t bad. You just need a little coaching.”

I couldn’t help but laugh as Jisung used the same thing I said to him on me. “Well what have you been doing the last four weeks, huh? Should I ask Hyunjin to help me instead!” Laughing I jumped onto him and playfully pulled him down to the floor. He rolled me off of his chest and propped himself up on his elbow, looking down at me.

“Nah. I’m much better than him.”

“Really. Should I tell him that?”

“.......Since when are you so close anyway!”

He jokingly yelled. That bright smile beamed on his face and ran all the way up to his eyes. There was a moment of comfortable silence and we just lay looking at each other. In that moment, I started to question if he didn’t have feelings for me. Then he broke the silence.

“So, how do you do that thing?” He looked down at the hardwood floor. “What thing?” “You know...you and Changbin. It wasn’t real.....right?” He looked up at me, almost hopeful. Pushing my self up, I sat cross-legged and looked down at him. “What? The stage kiss. No. Bin is gay. Trust me.”

“Wait what?”

“You haven’t seen Felix and him making out in the light booth?”

“WHAT?”

I laughed at the shocked look on his face and slightly pushed his shoulder. “You’re oblivious.” He shrugged and looked back up at me. “So, how do you do it?” He started playing with the ring on my right hand. “Are you nervous about our kiss--Oh- Have you never kissed anyone!!?” Jisung shot upright.

“I have kissed lots of girls!”

“Oh, okay.”

“I HAVE!”

“Yet, you are still nervous for our kiss.”

He brought his knees up and rested his arms on them. It took every inch of my self control not to stare at his arms. “Well, it’s gonna be in front of hundreds of people so yeah. A little.”

“It’s easy. Ours especially.” I snatched his white hat from him again and he chuckled when it was a little too big for me without my wig. “Explain, good madam.” “Both are at the end of the show,” I said have laughing and him nodding along.

“The first lasts exactly one eight count and then we do the rest of the song. The second is the cue for the blackout. Not long at all.” He nodded again, yet I didn’t think I had put him at rest. “Would it help set you at ease if we rehearsed it? That way you’ve done it when it is just you and me and not six hundred and eighty four people.”

Thinking about it, he nodded and followed my lead when I stood up and cued up the music. “Okay, so I’ve just proposed,” I stated getting done on one knee. I looked up to find him smirking.

“Having fun done there?”

“I will punch you in the nuts and not regret it. You really will be singing tenor then.”

“Okay moving on.”

He laughed and looked down at me slipping the pretend ring on his finger. He sang his line with the track. A real laugh left my lips when he picked me up in a hug and spun me around. The note sounded loud and clear in the dance studio and ended when my feet touched the ground. He looked into my eyes and his hand came up to my cheek before he kissed me.

I tried to ignore the tingling sensation that ran through my body as soon as his lips touched mine. I tried to ignore how even though he had been dancing for hours he still smelled like vanilla and the grass after a storm. I tried to focus on measuring the eight count, but my mind went foggy when I felt his hand bury itself in my hair. Well if I’m not counting he is, so it’s fine. It’s fine.

Jisung subconsciously took the control I gave him. He slowed the kiss from its original pace. Every time I thought he was pulling away he came back to my lips and I thought I could feel him smiling. After a moment he pulled away and looked into my eyes. At that moment I snapped out of it, realizing the song had already ended. He was still looking at me with his big brown eyes.

“The song is over...” His voice was low and almost a whisper. “Yeah...we kinda missed our cue.” What should I do? For once in my life....my mind was blank. “Uh...I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess?” He said with the corner of his lips quirking up. After a nod, he smiled and pulled away from me. Jisung stole glances back at me frozen in place as he picked up his bag and left.

The next day I walked into the auditorium in a crop and shorts. Immediately my eyes found Jisung and a wide smile spread across my face. Slowly it fell when I saw him talking to Hyori, a smirk evident on her small face. Her eyes met mine for a second before she reached out to Han’s arm. Suddenly he turned and saw me. A cold expression resonated over his sharp features.

After saying something to her, Han looked away and headed backstage. While my heart screamed to storm over to Hyori and ask what kind of game she was playing with Han, but my head told me to let it go and focus on tonight’s show.

Woojin caught up with me and helped me get in costume and makeup for the show. Every time I tried to talk to Jisung he would just avoid me and tell me some random excuse. Even Hyunjin came up to ask me what was wrong with his friend. Soon the wig came on and it was time for the start of the show.

The laughs and cheers sounded from the crowd but in the back of my mind and in the corner of my eye I could see Han in the wings, watching me with that cold expression. 

I feel so much better...

Than before

My throat burned and my stomach clenched as I held out the last note. If I couldn’t know what was going on with Jisung, I was damn sure going to give the best show I’ve ever done. Even if it destroyed my vocal cords and my body. My voice was the thing I could control right now, and it would do what I told it to. So, I told it to keep the note strong and not take the second breath.

With the conductor’s cue, I stopped and smiled brightly at the audience before the stage went black for intermission. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Bangchan bolted from his front-row seat in the audience and sprinted backstage. Seungmin and Changbin both rushed up and gave me a bottle of water.

“God damn Y/n! I knew you had pipes but I thought fossil fuel was the reason we were running out of oxygen.”

“Y/n!”

Chan rushed up to me and threw me over his shoulder. “I love you. I love you. I love you, but please save your voice. We kinda need it for the second act.” I smiled and nodded, my eyes looking everywhere for Jisung. I had ten minutes to change costumes, wigs, makeup check, and somehow get him to talk to me.

“Where’s Jisung? I need to-umm...ask him about the costume change for ‘Take it Like a Man’“. I asked as calmly as possible after I had changed. Woojin told me that he was in the guy’s dressing room changing suits. Charging down the dark cramped backstage hall I opened the door to find Changbin and Jisung. With look towards Changbin he scurried out the door leaving me and Jisung alone. 

“We have three minutes until curtain. You better tell me what the fuck is going on, Han.”

“Why don’t you tell me, huh?”

His brows furrowed as he raised his voice. His outburst stunned me for a moment. “Is this just this thing you do? Messing with your co-stars? Huh, L/n?” I could see in his eyes he was truly hurt. “Where the hell did you get that from!” He scoffed and finished doing his tie. “Hyori told me all about you and Jungkook.” 

“Hyori?” 

“Yes.”

“Hyori? The girl who Jungkook cheated on me with? Only so I would so devastated to miss the opening night and she could fill in for me.”

His expression changed drastically. “She lied?” He sank down in one of the cheap metal chairs. “Yeah it’s kind of her shtick.” He ran a hand through his hair before looking up at me again. “Y/n I am so sorry-” “I just can’t believe you trusted her word over anything I would have told you.” A heavy silence came between us and all I could do was stare at him in disbelief.

“Come on people! WARNING is NOT a suggestion! PLACES is NOT a category on jeopardy! GO is NOT A FUCKING OPTION!”

Seungmin yelled down the hall and Jisung sighed and got up from the chair. “Y/n, I-” He stopped when I put up my hand. “Listen...we’ll talk after the show.” I just had to get out of there. 

Han grabbed my arm and blocked the set door. “Hey. Hey. We’ll fix it. We’ll fight it.” Something in his eyes told me the emotion was real. “Emmett. There is no reason for me to stay.” I opened the door and closed it walking onto the other side and closing it. The music started to swell and I could feel all this pent up emotion in my chest. “What about love? You never mentioned love.” 

I could hear the crack in Jisung’s voice that wasn’t usually there. “You never mentioned love. The timing’s bad, I know. But perhaps if I’d made it more clear, that you belong right here, then you wouldn’t have to go.” My throat started to close up but I pushed through it and took a breath for my part of the song where we sang over each other. “Because you know that I’m so much in love-”

Back to the sun

Back to the shore

Back to what I was before

Lie on the beach, dream within reach

Don’t stray beyond

I felt real tears come down my cheeks as I moved downstage to face the lights. In my side vision I saw Jisung do the same. I had thought that I could be different. That he was different. That maybe we could put this unspoken rivalry behind us.

If you can hear, can I just say

How much I want you to stay

We returned to the door, but this time something felt different when I pressed my hand to the door.

It’s not up to me just let me be legally blonde

Seungmin pushed everyone on stage for the final scene and Woojin tugged the graduation camp over my wig and hurriedly covered the curtain call dress with the robe. Throughout the scene I couldn’t help but steal glances at Jisung. It wasn’t his fault. He had no way of knowing about Jungkook and Hyori. 

Walking over to Han, I gave him a genuine smile and got down on one knee. “Emmett Forest please make me the happiest woman I know!” I sang with sureness. He spun me around like once before and took my face in his slender fingers. 

And kissed me.

The grin on my lips was so big that it hurt my cheeks. I had to tap him on the shoulder when we needed to sing, but pulling away his smile was so big and genuine. He knew I had forgiven him. It felt so hard not to just stop singing and just jump into his arms. We both rushed up to the platform upstage and stood in the center.

Jisung smiled down at me and moved the tassel onto the other side of my cap, like he was supposed to. With the final cue of music, I couldn’t take it anymore and I tangled my fingers into his soft brown hair and crashed my lips onto his. I heard the roaring applause which meant the stage lights were in blackout for curtain call, but he was still kissing me. “Curtain call?” I whispered against his lips, in case my mic was still on. I felt him nod and pushed me further back on the platform and behind the center curtain without parting from my lips.

I laughed as he tried to help me pry of the robe for curtain call. “Take a break for a sec,” I said laughing and he joined me. He and I both fumbled with the buttons and tossed the hat and robe off stage to reveal the bright pink and sparkly dress for the closing of show. 

“I’m impatient. Come back here.”

His hands pulled me back by my waist and pressed a heated kiss on my lips once more. Kissing him felt like time stopping. At first, I didn’t notice the cheering audience as the curtain rose again, and I honestly didn’t care. Han pulled away and smiled at me  before doing his bow and then he motioned to me and the audience cheered. We clapped as Bangchan and Seungmin did their bows.

“There’s a party later. Are you going, L/n?”

“Duh. Cast party.”

“You gonna wear that green dress from last time?”

“You gonna wear that suit from last time?”

The entire cast did another bow and the curtain closed fully. When the red fabric touched the floor of the stage the cast and crew went crazy and Jisung wrapped me up in another kiss.

“HEY! NO MAKING OUT ON MY SET!”

“Sorry, Seungmin.”

“THAT DOESN”T MEAN DO IT AGAIN!”

Masterlist

Requests are open!

[severusminerva]

One Monstrous Miracle (Part One)

Hi! Here is the story that was promised! I have no idea where this is going to take me, but I hope that all of you will enjoy the journey as much as I will. Thanks for stopping by!

Pairing: Aziraphale/Human!Reader

Summary: Through miraculous events of unknown origin, Y/N stumbles upon an antique bookshop one afternoon, and from then on, the universe is never the same. 

Warnings: Just bad usage of commas! 

Word Count: 1232

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                Today had been rather a long day for you, something that was quickly becoming the norm. Work was difficult, as it always had been, but everything just seemed to be getting more…tense all of a sudden. The news got bleaker, people got meaner, and your days got longer and more exhausting. Currently, you were walking home from said work, inwardly cursing yourself for forgetting your umbrella. “You live in bloody London, for Christ’s sake!” You thought to yourself savagely, clutching your purse tightly to your body and power walking through the downpour that had started the instant you had stepped outside.

You reluctantly came to the decision that walking the rest of the way home in such a storm would probably make you ill, and you didn’t think that Kathy, your boss, would be too forgiving if you had to take another sick day. Unbeknownst to you, the moment this thought popped into your head, and before your mind had even moved on to thinking of alternative ways to get home, every car on the street vanished into thin air, as if by magic. You, a simple mortal, would never have noticed it happening, and if you had, you would have forgotten it almost as quickly as it had happened. As it was, you looked around and realized that there would be no taxi to drive you home. You did some more inward cursing.

Now, it is important to note that when miracles are performed, it is not without great disturbance to the world around them. Someone who is well-acquainted with the practice will tell you that the air crackles with what most people will call “static electricity”, and those same people will then make a prediction about the weather—those people are almost always human. The experts—who are very rarely human, or even mortal at all—will also tell you that miracles make the most peculiar sound, like a high-pitched ringing in your ear. They will also tell you that miracles smell and taste faintly of vanilla.

It was at this moment in time that you, completely obliviously, were being subjected to one of the larger miracles that have been performed, one that stretched across time and space. It was this enormous miracle that caused you to look up at the sign for a little shop on the street corner, and read its name for the first time:

“A.Z. FELL AND Co. ANTIQUARIAN AND UNUSUAL BOOKS”

It was such a strange place, because although it seemed old and worn, and the very name of the shop seemed to come straight out of the 18th century, you didn’t recall ever having seen it before in all your years living in Soho. At once, your interest was piqued, and you forgot all about the rain in favor of this bookshop. As you opened the door, met with the twinkling of tiny bells, someone somewhere heaved a great sigh of relief: It had begun.

You, in the meantime, were in your new-found happy place, surrounded by every old book one could ever want. You had been completely wrong about it being small, it seemed to be so much bigger on the inside. Reverently, your fingers brushed against the spines of books that were old enough to be your grandfather, if books could be grandfathers. Your hand stopped on beautifully ornate golden letters, embossed on a red leather cover that begged to be pulled off of the shelf and read. You were about to do just that when a voice startled you out of your almost trance.

You jumped in alarm, snatching your hand away as though the book had burned you, and stumbled back into a warm body, whose hands instinctively caught your arms so that you wouldn’t fall over completely. Your whole body tensed, and you shut your eyes tightly, hoping that you could wish the whole incident away. After a few seconds of silence, you had to admit defeat. The body behind you lowered their hands and stepped away, clearing their throat awkwardly.

“I am very sorry that I frightened you, my dear, Crowley does tell me that I tend to sneak up on people, but you seemed so focused and I didn’t want to interrupt your train of thought, Go—I know that happens to me too often and I—” The man—you’d determined from his voice—stopped himself. In the pause that followed, you slowly turned around to face him. Your breath hitched.

The man—you’d now confirmed—seemed to fit right in with the rest of the shop. His clothes had a very vintage feel to them, and although it was highly unlikely, something in you told you that they were all original. He was not terribly tall, but he wasn’t short, either. He had such a kind face, that was currently frowning in embarrassment. All of this was topped off by some extremely blond curls—so blond in fact that they may as well have been white. Although he would not be considered particularly handsome by most estimates, something about him was drawing you to him like bread to butter.

The pair of you had been standing there for what felt like hours, inspecting each other. It was very odd, and you were very glad that there were no other customers around to see you act so bizarrely. Just when you thought that the silence had passed the point of no return, the man burst out into a dazzling grin and put his hand out between you.

“I’m sorry, miss, where are my manners? I am Aziraphale. What is your name?” You looked down at his hand for a second before grasping it with your own.

“Hullo, Aziraphale, I’m Y/N. It’s your name on the sign, then?” You asked, shaking his hand and then gesturing to the windows. Aziraphale chuckled.

“Oh, dear me, no! No, that is my great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great grandfather’s name, I only inherited it. This shop has been around much longer, than I have, I’m afraid. Much, much longer.” He smiled his smile at you, but you frowned back at him.

“But I don’t remember this shop being here before, and I’ve lived here all my life!” You protested. At this, Aziraphale looked a bit sheepish, and started to fidget with the chain of his pocket watch.

“I have had to close it down quite a few times in recent years, family issues and all that—”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that—”

“No! I mean, no nothing bad.” Aziraphale’s look turned to something soft and proud. “I’ve recently acquired a Godson, and I’ve been helping to raise him up.” Your heart warmed at how much love you could hear in the man’s voice.

“How nice that must be!” You said, his infectious smile bringing out your own.

“Oh it is! He’s such a lovely boy, very kind and not at all like—” Again, Aziraphale stopped himself. He peered down at you, a strange, unreadable expression on his face. “I mustn’t bore you! I’ve been rambling this whole time, haven’t I? Such terrible manners—”

“I don’t mind,” You interrupted. Shocked, Aziraphale stared at you, seemingly unable to believe what you had said. You grinned at him, placing a hand on his arm. He broke his gaze and looked down at your hand, and then back up at you. “Ramble all you like,”

[mattygraygubler]

Y/N Stark, Ch. 1

Chapter one! Yay! Hope you guys enjoy this. It’s rather short, I wanted to get it out as soon as possible. 

Warning: nothing, maybe binge drinking? 

Your vision was blurry and the buttons on the keypad of the door to Stark Tower seemed to be moving and blinking. 

You took a deep breath, trying to pick the right numbers. After what felt like an hour, you heard FRIDAY say “Too many failed attempts. Please confirm identity.” 

“Stark comma Y/N” you slurred. FRIDAY scanned your face, and despite the heavy makeup the door unlocked and you pushed your way in. 

It was nearly 3 a.m., so you tried to be as quiet as you could, but finding your way to the elevator was incredibly difficult. You made your way up to your room, putting on a pair of underwear and a tank top. No one should be awake, but even if they were, you didn’t care. 

You stumbled out of your room, going to the elevator once more and finding your way to the kitchen. 

You grabbed the bag of pretzels from the cabinet a chocolate pudding from the fridge, sitting on the floor and dipping the pretzels in the pudding like you did when you were seven. 

It wasn’t long until you heard a crash and someone curse under their breath. You peeked your head over the counter and saw a hooded figure approaching from down the hall. You quietly grabbed a knife from the drawer and crawled around the island as the figure entered the kitchen. 

You seemed to sober up instantaneously. Stark Tower may be filled with Avengers and superheroes, but who's to stay that would stop someone from breaking in and trying to kill you? 

You steadied your breathing as the figure approached the fridge. If you weren’t drunk, maybe you would have thought that an intruder probably wouldn’t go straight to the fridge, but it didn’t matter. 

You slowly got to your feet, approaching the figure who you now realize was taller than you. You held the knife, grabbed the figure by their shoulder, turned them around, pushing their back against the fridge with your knife pressed to their throat. 

“WOAH!” the figure exclaimed with his hands up. 

“Who the fuck are you and what are you doing here?” You said. 

“Uhm I’m uh Peter Parker, I’m an Avenger, well I think I am, Mr. Stark hasn’t totally confirmed that-” “What?” You said. This person may claim to be an Avenger, but he couldn’t be more than 17. 

“Y/N?” the boy said. 

“Do I know you?” 

“You’re Mr. Stark’s daughter, I’m Peter Parker,” “You said that, but I don’t know who the hell you are.” “I’m Spider-Man.” “Spider-Man?” “...Yes? You don’t know who I am?” 

“You say you’re an Avenger?” He nodded with difficulty as your knife was still digging into his throat. “Prove it.” He lifted his hand and shot a white net-like material from his hand. 

“Not what I meant, dumbass. Anyone can have superpowers these days. Tell me something only an avenger would know.” “Natasha’s favorite food is peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.” You processed this information, realizing he was right, and lowered the knife. 

“Spider-Boy?” “Man, actually. Only Thor calls me Spider-Boy.” Your breath hitched when you heard him say Thor, who you’ve had the biggest crush on since he first joined the Avengers and made it thunderstorm one night to make you feel better. You loved thunderstorms. 

“First Ant-Man, now you? How many insect hybrids are we going to get stuck with,” his eyes lowered when you said stuck with. 

You backed up and stumbled over the bag of pretzels on the floor, still being incredibly wasted, you would’ve fell if Peter didn’t catch your arm and pull you up. You realized you were face-to-face, your bodies pressed against each other. 

“Are you drunk?” He asked, his eyes widening. 

“What do you care?” “You’re, like, 17! That’s super illegal.” You rolled your eyes, pulling your arm out of his grasp. 

“So? If you’re hot, nobody cares how old you are.”

“That’s super problematic,” he commented.

“Whatever, I turn 18 in less than a month and then everything will be quite legal.” “Well, except the drinking.” 

“Who gives a fuck? What are you doing here anyway?” 

“Uhm my Aunt and her boyfriend were uhm being rather… loud. I figured I’d escape here but I forgot the door passcode so I just used the window. I didn’t realize anybody would be awake. Hey, are you ok?” You were swaying side to side, the effects of the alcohol taking control of your body. 

“Don’t… feel good…” You stuttered before you collapsed. Peter caught you again, but this time you were completely unconcious. Peter cursed under his breath, not sure what to do. He was aware of how little clothing you were wearing, and how suspicious it would look if you were seen carrying Mr. Stark’s daughter to her room passed out, wearing nothing but underwear and a very see-through tank top. 

Regardless, he swung you into his arms bridal-style as if you weighed nothing, just one of the perks of super-strength. He knew that your room was on the 14th floor, as Mr. Stark has reminded him multiple times that that floor is female-residence only. 

It wasn’t long before Peter found your room, a sign that said “No supernatural beings allowed under ANY circumstances!” taped to the door. He pushed it open, layed you in bed, and covered you with a blanket. Worried that you would throw up in your sleep, he went to his room and returned in his PJs and with a blanket from his room, soon falling asleep on your floor. 

----

Y/N woke with a pounding headache. The blackout curtains were doing their job, shrouding the room in darkness to the point where Y/N couldn’t see. You knew the path to the bathroom well enough, but as you made your way across your room, you stumbled over something large on the floor, falling on top of whatever it was. 

Or, whoever it was, for the thing below you was clearly a body, a body that groaned with your weight on top of it, waking whoever it is up. 

You told FRIDAY to turn on the lights, which blinded you for a second. Once your eyes had adjusted, you realized it was Spider-Boy, who had slept on your floor and now had his hands on your waist, his eyes staring into yours. 

Once again, you were within kissing distance to this bizzare boy you had only just met. 

“Good morning,” he said with a laugh. His voice was raspy, and for a second you thought it was sexy, but you quickly moved that thought from your head. 

“Is there a reason you’re on top of me?” He asked, red creeping into his cheeks, and breaking eye contact with you. 

“Is there a reason you’re on my floor? You know, I can’t remember last night at all, but if we fucked you could’ve done the normal thing and slept in my bed and left at the crack of dawn like a gentleman.” This made Peter’s eyes grow wide and he pushed you off him, sitting up and crossing his legs. 

“Woah… Woah woah,” he said. “I didn’t - we didn’t, uhm, make uhhh I mean have-” 

“We didn’t have sex?” You asked. He violently shook his head. “Good. You’re not my type. I would’ve had to seriously reevaluate my choices.” 

“Uhm, wow, that’s… I’m not really sure what to do with that.” You shrugged, sitting up and facing him. 

“I’m not your type?” He asked. You shook your head. “So what is?” Immediately the God of Thunder came to mind and you blushed. “Not you.” You said curtly, getting to your feet and looking around the room for sweatpants and a sweatshirt, as it was freezing in your room. 

“So why were you on my floor?” Peter cleared his throat, getting to his feet, and once again avoiding looking at you. 

“Well you were rather, uhm, intoxicated and you passed out and I didn’t want, you know, anything bad to happen.” “Bad?” 

“Like choking on your own vomit or something. I heard that can happen.” You laughed, causing him to look at you perplexed. 

“I don’t need some kid looking after me. I can very well take care of myself, thank you very much.” “Well you seemed to need help last night.” He said. You were taken aback, unsure where this confidence came from. 

“Relax. It would not be the first time an Avenger found me passed out on the floor of the kitchen.” 

“Well then,” Peter said, clearing his throat again. “I should, uh, go.” “Yeah, you should.” You said. This boy was very quickly starting to get on your nerves. Who does he think he is, taking care of you? You could very well take care of yourself, this wasn’t the 1800s. You don’t need some dumb super-boy saving you. 

“Bye Pablo.” 

“Peter,” he corrected. 

“Like it matters.” You said with a snort. 

[dcuglybooks]

A short story collection featuring stories that are either mean and ugly like that turd that thudded you in school, or sweet and cuddly as a little gloomy kitten; or puppy if you’re more of a dog person.

Stories Christians don't have to read backwards. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08LGB4HGN/ref=cm_sw_r_cp_api_glc_fabc_UIpaGb2VC4BBX

Here’s a free short.

WAP: WEIRD ASS PHANTOM

“There’s a ghost in this house. There’s a ghost in this house.”

Linda was getting tired of the shit. Every day at exactly noon her alarm would play this shitty overdubbed version of a Cardi B song. The original song wasn’t her cup of tea to begin with, this new version that sounded like drunk karaoke was even worse. Most times she would be sitting there and the sound of a drunk sorority girl would make her jump out of her skin. She couldn’t even find the song or alarm in her phone to do anything about it.

Linda and her girlfriend, Melissa, moved into this old house last month, the rent was so damn cheap; landlord said it was because it used to be a party house so he never charged much. The logic didn’t make any sense but at $300 a month and a mile outside of town, how were they not going to sign that lease?

“I think,” spoke Melissa one night while watching her phone float around taking pictures in the air, “the reason rent is so cheap is because it’s haunted.”

“You think?” Replies Linda while snatching the phone out of the air. “I just wish this damn ghost would stop posting pictures of our bedroom to our Instagram accounts. Did you see the caption last night?”

“Oh you mean ‘Pumpkin spice is almost here. Basic bitches, rejoice!’ The comma is what set me off. Why did she put a comma in that? Why bother? It wasn’t even used correctly I don’t believe.”

“We’re being haunted by a basic bitch.”

“I think that may be offensive.”

“I hear it all the time, it just...... yeah ok maybe. I guess I shouldn’t assume this ghost is a bad stereotype, I won’t say it again.”

“True, this girl may have more going for her than just these annoying social media posts from our accounts”

“Remember the mirror though?”

Last week as the couple were eating dinner they heard a clatter and crash from the upstairs bathroom. Running full speed ahead up the stairs and around the corner Linda saw all their makeup in a pile in the empty sink. She could see a pair of red lipsticked lips floating in the air while eyeliner was seemingly drawn onto the air in a cat eye shape. She sighed and said “What now?” These types of things had been going on since the first night so at this point it was old hat.

The lipstick went to the mirror and wrote “I am finally going to kill you.” Linda took a step back prepared to flee until the lipstick wrote below it “JK LOL YOUR FACE” and then the face floated off into the wall leaving behind the makeup like some sort of painting.

The first time anything strange had happened, a pizza showed up at the front door; delivery for an Amanda Perkins. The girl who moved out recently, they took the pizza because it was already paid for and assumed the girl had made a mistake. They were sure of this as they sat and watched old re-runs of home improvement and munched away; then they noticed the slice floating over in the air above the recliner and the chewed up pile on the seat. They screamed and ran outside, Melissa forgot her phone inside and Linda’s made a ding from inside her pocket.

“Hey I know this is really weird, it’s weird AF for me too. We can make it work though, ladies. I swear I won’t bother you, I already cleaned up my mess.”

They inched inside looking around like scared toddlers and sure enough the mess was cleaned up. After that they just rolled with the weirdness.

“Are you sure Amanda left, Mr. Morris?” Linda was on the phone with the landlord.

“Yes. Positive. Why would you think she still lived there?”

“There’s been..... some things.”

“Drunk college girl, she probably stumbled home one night and forgot she went home for the summer. Its no deal. Not big or small.”

“Are you absolutely positive there is no deal? Big, small, medium, or slightly larger than medium but not quite large?”

“What do you think? I know her ex and he killed her and then buried her body in the basement so now her ghost is haunting you. This is why I charge so cheap rent! No. I don’t believe what you think. I will be going.”

He hung up without ever realizing Linda never once mentioned any of that other stuff. Linda thought, Why does he talk like that?

Turned out that’s exactly what had happened. After doing a quick google of the ghosts name they found out she never came home. After a quick Facebook search they found her ex boyfriends page. After some scrolling they found a post that said “Amanda and I broke up again and I am going to kill her.” The post had six likes and four comments.

“Get her bro!”

“Bitch ain’t appreciate you anyhow bet!”

“U need any ting lemme no”

“Fuk gr8 ass tho. Mind if I hit her up?”

These people were insane. Did not a single one of these people see the part about wanting to kill her? Actually PLANNING to kill her.

The police found it interesting enough to look into it, they found reason to arrest the guy. After a long court trial Amanda’s ex-boyfriend, Brent, was sentenced to life in prison for murder. The body was exhumed and buried at a family plot. The rent got more expensive because Mr. Morris was in prison for helping cover a murder so his aunt took over.

You win some you lose some.

Amanda did not leave though. The ghost hung out still to this day four months later. The social media posts kept going. The pizzas kept getting ordered, only now from their pockets because Amanda’s parents closed her bank account. Amanda was irritated about that, she was cut off from her parents money and stuck living with two other people.

Linda and Melissa tried to make her feel as comfy as possible, they left a pen and notebook in each room so she could communicate with them. Usually the notes were always about how bored she was being a ghost and how if she tried to leave the house it got all bright and she started floating. Amanda was “for real afraid of flying” as she wrote on a notebook.

Amanda’s behavior got strange at some point. She began doing things like drawing stick figures on the bathroom floor in shampoo, she would wrap herself in toilet paper and roll down the stairs creating the illusion of her body disappearing, the worst of it was when she would lay in bed with Linda and Melissa startling them when she pulled the blanket. It was like living with an invisible insane person. Either her mind was slipping or she was just a strange character. She would turn the TV on and watch the same episode of “King of Queens” for ten hours straight while they were at work. They wondered what would happen if they deleted it from the DVR but didn’t want to face that at all.

The alarm kept going off too; Linda had to hand out awkward smiles and apologies when it happened at work or in public. One time she had to apologize to a middle aged woman when it went off in the cereal aisle while shopping and her son started singing the lyrics to the original version as loud as his voice would allow. The mother gasped at all the words her kid knew and knocked a shelf of maple syrup over. The bottles burst all over the floor, Linda tried to help clean it up but she was shooed away by a guy with a mop bucket and a face that said he wanted her dead as shit.

They asked her multiple times what they could do to get her to move along, to which she would always write “sno-cone” on her notebook with no explanation.

Linda woke up sick on a Tuesday and didn’t go to work, she came into the bathroom and seen a note written in lipstick on the mirror that read “Baby, all my life I will be driving home to you.” She blushed, Melissa had left her a really sweet note on the mirror. When Melissa got home she surprised her with a bout of some of the best sex they had ever had, despite Linda being sick she felt overcome with love for her partner.

“Wow. What did I do to deserve that?” Asked Melissa after.

“The note.”

“Oh yes. The note, got you good with that one. So, if it was so good mind telling me what it said?”

“You know what it said!”

“Of course I do.”

She didn’t know what it said. She had no clue, but she wasn’t going to raise a stink about what just happened. No way, no how. She got up and went to use the restroom, as she sat on the toilet she looked up and saw the words on the mirror.

“LINDA!” She yelled. “I DIDNT LEAVE THAT! THATS THE GODDAMN LYRICS FROM THE THEME SONG FOR ‘THE KING OF QUEENS!’”

Linda didn’t know what to say; she shook her head and internally accepted defeat on this one. The couple didn’t talk about it again, the ends justified the means on this one they silently agreed; thanks Amanda.

The trio had carried on life like this for months, seven to be exact, when they heard a bang and a crash from the front door. Assuming this was yet again Amanda doing some goofy nonsense they ran downstairs to clean up the mess only to find a man standing their pointing a shotgun at them.

“You’re the dykes who got me locked up, aintcha?” Said a freshly broke out of prison Brent. “You know, usually I’m cool with like loving whoever and like rights and like equality and shit but tonight is not your night. Go sit.”

They were tied together on the couch while Brent sat channel flipping on the TV.

“Amanda is still here,” spoke Linda “she’s a ghost, at some point she’s going to help us and you’ll probably get hurt. She’s probably posting pictures on Instagram right now so she’s a little busy, but I promise when she finds out she’ll come running.”

“No she won’t.”

“Ok? So you think her post is going to get a ton of likes then?”

“She’s afraid of me.”

“Ugh are you generic ‘I beat my girlfriend’ guy number seventy or not?”

“Not.”

“Then why is she afraid of you?”

“I’m bigger than her…… I guess?”

“She’s a ghost.”

“I’m still bigger.”

​“How can you be bigger than an incorporeal being with no mass or weight?”

​“See, she doesn’t way anything.”

“You didn’t think any of this through did you?”

“Not one bit.”

“It shows. Why did you kill her?”

“Hey I’ve never been what you’d call a planner. I killed her because she broke up with me for the fiftieth time that year and all my friends were giving me a hard time about how I would just crawl back to her. I said ‘can’t crawl back to her if I kill her!’ They all thought it was funny so I did it.”

“Ah………Makes perfect sense to me.”

“A guy has to watch his reputation, right?”

They sat there watching late night infomercials in silence for another half hour. Linda nudged Melissa as she seen a phone floating around taking pictures of a floating can of soup.

Of all the ghosts in the world, why was theirs like this?

“Brent, there’s some stuff on the DVR” Linda told him.

“Good I hate infomercials. Oh yuck, ‘The King of Queens.’ I hate that show, Amanda loved it. That fat fucking heifer guy gets to make it with that babe every night. Fucking loser ass UPS guy”

They could see the phone slowly lower and start hovering towards Brent. They let him rant.

“And that Deacon guy, what a fucking idiot, he leaves his wife at one point which is silly because she’s so fucking hot.”

The can of soup hovered behind him.

“That guy that dates the ugly chick from the bowling alley, now I can’t tolerate him at all.”

The soup can shook with rage.

“He ends up living with the other guy right? Like what the fuck? Are they like a thing or not a thing? I didn’t pay enough attention. I did pretend to though to get some action every now and again, show fucking sucks though. Here I’ll do you guys a favor.”

As he deleted the episode from the DVR the can came slamming down into his head.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Again.

They heard a voice yell “MY BONES ARE GETTING WEARY! MY BACK IS GETTING TIGHT!” As the can of cream of chicken turned Brent’s head into cream of Brent’s brains.

After the violence stopped the notebook hovered in front of them and said “Sorry, I was on TikTok, I’ll clean this up tho.”

Much like the first night that’s exactly what happened. They were untied and they watched as the mess was cleaned up. Brent’s body floated over to the ground and the can of soup was laid on the table. The phone floated over to Melissa who dialed 911.

After the legal mess was cleaned up they decided that having Amanda around maybe was not such a bad idea. No one could really kill them, it was like having a built in security system. They did eventually add a third line to their cell plan and let her set up social media for herself as a reclusive twenty something who couldn’t leave the house due to a skin condition.

Her pages were ok, they didn’t get much interaction or followers but Amanda was happy. Sometimes people would say they wanted to hang out with her because they lived close, Amanda just said her skin condition was contagious AF. No one ever thought to say “Hey, what exactly IS your medical condition?” People could be so polite sometimes.

Christmas morning as they all opened gifts Linda and Melissa cried as Amanda opened the complete series collection of “The King of Queens.” The three sat on the couch together that evening and watched all of season one.

Baby all my life I will be driving home to you.

The next day they heard a familiar song. Together they both smiled and thought that yes, there was a ghost in this house.

[words-are-my-medium]

Post-S2 ST Headcanons

This started out as headcanons I was writing down and then it just got so out of hand it turned into a semi-fic? It’s long and probably not great writing I’m sorry but I wanted to keep track of it here for myself at least so here (please don’t take this as an example of my actual writing quality because I would format this so much better if it wasn’t just a heacanon dump)

El-centric, pre-Byler/Byeler, Byers-Hopper family feels and headcanons galore, (probably overuse of commas galore too), kind-of a fic?

-So El is like… super not into studying. I mean she had a dictionary in her house for almost a year and she didn’t know the word “compromise”; girl’s been watching TV all day and learning words slowly and not entirely accurately through context. After the Snow Ball Hopper starts cracking down–she needs to start school (high school no less) in the fall of ‘85 and she’s got a lot of catching up to do.

-She HATES it, and the Party quickly realizes this, so they try to study with her and help whenever possible. Unfortunately they don’t succeed much: whenever Mike’s over El never wants to study; Lucas gets too impatient with her; Dustin makes a valiant effort to introduce her to the joy of curiosity voyages but it doesn’t work. Max, after being unfairly given the cold shoulder for quite a while, finally becomes friends with El and then becomes a HUGE distraction; El’s only friend who’s a girl (even if she’s not into pretty things like playing with makeup), why study when you can have special girls only friend time?

-So the Party’s pretty stuck, when surprisingly Will steps up and like magic, El tries super hard to be attentive and they start making progress! Mike is pretty sure there is some kind of guilt on El’s part regarding Will that’s contributing, but hey, whatever works. Will is actually a pretty good tutor it turns out, he’s really patient and intuitive, observant to what seems to work and what doesn’t, if not particularly gifted at teaching, and while El will probably never be an amazing student, she starts getting the hang of the basic subjects. (Except math, which she is shockingly good at–Max is convinced that her brain is actually a calculator, but El explains that math was easy because it was so exact: no complicated answers, just right or wrong, not a lot of words to get in the way. She’d quietly admitted to Mike once with a wry smile that numbers just made sense to her.)

-Hopper takes Will out for his birthday because Lonnie sucks and the kid loves his mother obviously and hey, Hopper doesn’t care if he’s sensitive or different or something else, he’s Joyce’s boy and a good kid, but it wouldn’t hurt to spend some time with a positive male figure again after Bob. In early May Joyce and Hopper start… not quite dating but everyone knows it’s just a matter of time. Jonathan and Will have already discussed what it might be like having El for a sister someday. They’re not sure if/when that might become official, but to the brothers she’s already joined their family and they’re both happy. (Jonathan immediately had a fondness for El, she’d saved Will and her “papa” was super shitty too, and his protectiveness and compassion kicked in and he was able to start bonding with her pretty quickly, to his surprise.)

The weekend after the 4th of July they are all hanging out at the cabin, trying to cram in as much as possible as the fall and upcoming school year draw nearer. They’re eating leftover watermelon and Max is teaching them her patented seed-spitting technique, though Will is still helping El finish the part of the lesson they’re on and he loves that he can help, but he wants to kinda hang out too and El realizes this, of course.

El leans in to kiss him on the cheek and thank him because she genuinely appreciates his patience with her so much and she knows it’s taking time away from other stuff he could be doing to tutor her, he’s such a good friend and a sweet person and El is so happy having him in her life, in her family even, but at that exact moment Dustin nails Will in the side of the head with a watermelon seed and Will whips around to face his attacker, and El ends up planting it right on his mouth.

Everyone gasps and freezes and El breathes in sharply and tenses, but Will just kinda sits there wide-eyed for a minute before bursting out laughing. El’s face is a mix of fear and shame and she’s turning red, and everyone else is kind-of hesitantly looking at Mike. He isn’t sure how to react because yeah, his… girlfriend(?) just kissed his oldest friend but it was completely an accident, obviously not intended, and rather than being mad he’s kind of having a sudden anxious realization that wow, okay, that was not something he ever expected to see but uh, it wasn’t… wasn’t bad because El is pretty and Will is cute and he–um, okay yes he did just think Will is cute?! He’s having a violent bi awakening panic attack and omg why is Will laughing this is so awkward Mike’s turning into a tomato to match El why–

“Will, is… are you okay?” Dustin asks carefully, afraid he’s just set into motion a chain of events that made his friend go insane, because Will is practically rolling on the floor by now, and Will manages to stop just enough to gasp “I’m going to have to tell everyone who ever asks for the rest of my life that my first kiss was with my sister,” and Lucas spits his drink out all over Dustin and Max and then there’s an uproar of laughter and yelling and El is apologizing frantically and Will is wiping tears of laughter from his eyes and Mike is just standing there frozen and beet red and kind-of?? more than a little upset that El kinda just stole Will’s first kiss?!

-When everyone finally goes home Will and El stay (because Joyce and Hopper were out somewhere together so she’s picking him up when they get back), and they both kinda sit for a while comfortably in silence until Will knowingly asks if she’s okay and El admits she’s sad because Max explained that apparently first kisses are important and El’s sorry she ruined Will’s. Will assures her instantly she didn’t, it was an accident anyway and then goes quiet for a moment before “I’ll tell you a secret, El, don’t tell anyone else, but I don’t wanna kiss girls anyway, so it doesn’t count, it was only a technical first kiss, my official first kiss has to be with a boy so you didn’t ruin it at all.”

And El is so relieved because she never talks about it to anyone but she knows, knows everything bad that happened to Will is her fault, but now he’s her brother and her friend and she loves him and her new family and though she hates it, the truth is she wouldn’t take it all back, opening the gate, even if she somehow was able to, so she just has to try her hardest to make sure he’s happy and safe from now on.

-This is how Will Byers comes out (because confirming with Jonathan what Jonathan has always kinda known doesn’t count, he’s never had to hide who he is from Jonathan so it’s not “coming out”, he was never “in” when it comes to his brother). El is the perfect person because she doesn’t know how to hate, not for reasons like this; she accepts him immediately and that’s what he’s been so worried about, after everything Lonnie and the kids at school have ever said he’s been too scared to even tell his mother, let alone the boy he likes. And suddenly Will’s crying in her arms and El’s become a sympathetic crier so then they’re both crying and El starts crying harder because maybe she was wrong again and it’s not okay, obviously, if Will’s still sad? And that’s how Hopper and Joyce find them, hugging and crying their eyes out and the adults are so bewildered.

-The Byers get in the car to go home after they finally calm down (and Will assures El everything’s fine several times with hugs), and Joyce doesn’t even have to ask, she just gives him a concerned look and Will looks out the window to hide his face and takes a deep breath before he quietly admits, “I was crying because I told Jane I’m gay and she didn’t bat an eyelash, she just accepted me.”

-Joyce immediately pulls the car over and unbuckles her seat belt and leans over and hugs Will so tight, and he screws his eyes shut so he doesn’t see her face but he can hear her murmur “Sweetie, I have been waiting for you to accept yourself,” and suddenly a weight he didn’t even realize he’d been carrying is gone.

The remainder of the summer Will and El become closer than ever, while Mike strangely becomes frequently absent to Party events. One day in mid-August Mike visits El alone while the others are out seeing Back to the Future for the second time (because Dustin and Lucas started an argument about time travel mechanics after the first time and forced Will and Max to come again while they rewatch for research) and he’s only there 15 minutes before she quietly asks “Are you mad I kissed Will because I’m supposed to kiss you?”

Mike shakes his head furiously like a wet dog and assures her of course he isn’t, it was an accident and he’s over it, it’s been over a month, El, “I practically forgot about it already”, but she just looks at him thoughtfully and then her eyes widen the tiniest bit and she asks again, “Are you mad I kissed Will because you wanted to kiss Will?” and Mike’s face drains of color so fast it’s like he’s in a cartoon.

“What?! No, I–” he starts unconvincingly, his voice raising into a panicked shrillness, but interrupts himself, “Steve told you, didn’t he, or I mean he told Dustin who told you, or something, whatever, somehow it was that douchebag, wasn’t it? I knew I shouldn’t have trusted him, ‘master of romantic advice’ my ass!”

El is very confused but lets Mike rant about Steve Harrington being an untrustworthy jerk for a full five minutes before finally grabbing his hand and shaking her head. “Nobody told me anything. You seemed mad. So if you’re not mad about me then it’s about Will, right?”

And then Mike is very embarrassed because obviously Steve wouldn’t have said anything, he’s practically Dustin’s older brother now, but he can feel the “friends don’t lie” coming so he’s screwed anyway.

“Okay, fine, maybe I might have thought about it a little but… it’s because I think I might like boys too.”

“Like? Like you want to kiss?” El’s mental gears are turning and Mike nods, “Yeah, I still want to kiss girls but maybe boys too, Steve said it’s… that I don’t have to pick only one. Some people like both.” (Bisexual is much too complicated a term and Mike’s still not entirely convinced Steve didn’t make it up.)

-A light bulb goes off in El’s brain and she thinks hard for a minute before she says, “If you want, we don’t have to kiss anymore so you can try to kiss a boy,” and Mike’s eyebrows almost shoot clean off his head, but he looks at her carefully and sees she’s sincere and not upset, and for the first time he sees her solely as the girl she’s become, not the Eleven he first met nearly two years before, so quietly he just says “If that’s what you want, El.”

She nods but then narrows her eyes at him, “You’ll still like me as a friend?” and he smiles warmly and nods, “I’ll always like you as a friend, El, no matter what, even if it’s not the kissing kind of like,” and El’s heart jumps because maybe it is possible, maybe she’s really this lucky, she can keep all the good things she’s gained and still make Will happy too.

“But don’t tell anybody else I like boys, okay El?” Mike adds suddenly, and El nods, a smile creeping onto her face. El keeps her promises and tells nobody anything, but for the few weeks remaining in the summer, she occasionally wears a satisfied little smile, the cause of which even Max can’t get out of her.

-In the fall of ‘85 the kids all start high school, El a little nervous but feeling prepared thanks her friends and family (especially Will), and Will finally confident, at least a little, because he’s accepted himself and he’s got the best family ever and if anyone gives him shit, his future step-dad is the chief of police and his sister can break arms (and worse) with her mind and they all accept him too and love him no matter what. (He’s pretty sure the rest of his friends will too, but he promised himself that he wouldn’t tell them he’s gay until he told Mike first, because Will’s realized that’s been a long time coming and now’s as good a time as any since El told him vaguely about their “breakup”; Will knows he’s single and hasn’t had a chance to develop a crush on anyone else yet. He owes it to his best friend to be honest, and well, if Mike breaks his heart, [which he’s mostly expecting, tbh] Will believes at least he’ll still be his friend, and he’ll move on. Eventually.)

El is so happy when the complete Party meets for the first time in front of the school on the first day, finally all together in the open, and she doesn’t miss how her two closest friends look at each other. This will be a good year, El thinks.

[ideaal]

Corrected file for @urbuddyyourpalurbucky​ with 2 messages attached: stop trying to fuck commas and the human body does not possess enough blood to blush that often!

(On a more serious note: try to have less blushing, stuttering, holding back laughs. When you’re writing you don’t notice it, so I know that’s hard)

Just one last check in the mirror. A hand in his jacket, to feel if he hadn’t forgotten his wallet for the thirty-first time. A look on his phone, to see if he really was on time. But… yes, he still had ten minutes. And his wallet was present and his hair didn’t have any strange curls. Only normal curls. So he was good to go. If only his heart would stop beating so much.

Oliver took a deep breath and swung his car door open. He wasn’t overdressed, right? No, he was wearing a white collared shirt and jeans, he was fine, he was fine! The jeans were the ones he'd bought that day. When he met him. Would Garett notice that tonight? Hopefully not.

He stepped out of his car, locked it, and started walking towards the restaurant. He had recommended it. He had a friend who worked there, who'd managed to save him from a bad first date before by rather gracefully spilling a drink on him and sneaking him out the back.

Although, Oliver had a feeling that wouldn’t be necessary tonight. And he wished that that feeling wasn’t just a misinterpreted amount of hope.

He opened the doors en walked towards the reception. No Garett yet. Or perhaps he was in the restaurant already… but before he could look, he seemed to have caught the attention of the girl with the checkbook.

“Good evening. Have you made a reservation?”

Oliver tried to look like he wasn’t caught off guard by that.

“Y-yeah, it’s under the name Scott.”

The lady looked over the names with a pen in hand.

“Yes, that’s right. Table for two?”

Oliver opened his mouth, but before he could answer, he suddenly heard a familiar voice from behind the lady. A familiarly loud voice.

“Oliver! Hey! You didn’t tell me you were coming tonight.”

A tall and very enthusiastic girl appeared from inside the restaurant, who, before anyone could object, immediately wrapped her arms around Oliver.

“Hey, Sylvia, how are you?”

“Good, I’m good, of course-”

“You guys know each other?”

Sylvia briefly turned around to the other girl, a big smile already on her face.

“Yeah, for a while now.” She quickly turned back. “But what are you doing here? You’re not all by yourself, right?”

“N-no, I’m waiting for a date, actually-”

Sylvia’s eyes widened instantly. Oliver swallowed. This was going to be intense.

“A date? You have a date again? Finally.”

“Y-yeah…”

If it was possible, Sylvia’s grin grew even wider and she started chuckling a sinister chuckle.

“Shut up, Sylvia. Please don’t embarrass me. I’m actually super nervous about this.”

“Oh, I’m sure there’s nothing you have to be worried about.” The other girl smiled at him, be it a little more reserved than Sylvia’s smile. “I’m sure she’ll be here soon.”

“No, she won’t.”

That had slipped out of Oliver’s mouth before he had realized it. The girl looked very visibly confused.

“Uhm-”

“He’s gay,” Sylvia said, not all that discretely.

“Oh- I’m so sorry.”

The girl’s face was turning red, but Oliver was sure it wasn’t as bad as his face was right now.

“Oh, i-it’s fine.”

Sylvia took a pen out of her pocket and looked at the list of reservations.

“Hey, I can help Oliver further, you can go stand inside of the restaurant if you want.”

The girl was visibly glad to be able to leave the conversation and quickly made her way to one of the tables. Oliver looked at her for a few seconds, but then turned his eyes to the floor. Coming out of the closet was always so fun. Although, he had to admit, Sylvia made it a little bit smoother.

“Says here your reservation is at seven o'clock.”

He looked up again.

“Yeah, that’s right.”

Sylvia laid her arm on the book and looked at her watch.

“Well, then you still have a few minutes. God, why do you always have to be on time? Can’t you just be fashionably late for once? That would make guys way more interested in you, I promise.”

“I’m not taking dating advice from you again, Sylvia.”

“Well, you shouldn’t be taking dating advice from yourself either.”

“Shut up, at least I got this date. Just let me try my best not to screw it up.

"All right, all right.” Sylvia put her arm on the stand and laid her chin on the palm of her hand. “But that reminds me… how exactly did you get this date?”

Oliver felt himself turn red, paired with a shot of nerves in his stomach. That seemed to always happen when he thought back to that day.

“Uhm, well… we-”

But suddenly, Oliver heard a creak behind him. A familiar creak, one that he always heard when he entered this restaurant, followed by an unfamiliar heavy breathing. He turned around, feeling the nerves rise up, and the moment he looked at the door, he felt be opened with full force.

Garett was standing there, his face slightly red, and his chest moving up and down, looking like he'd  sprinted to the restaurant. A single, glistening drop of sweat stood on his temple and his mouth was opened, panting. Surprisingly, his brown hair didn’t look like it'd been touched. Oliver stared into his eyes for a few moments, feeling very well that his face was turning more red by the second, when suddenly he noticed that Garett was wearing his police uniform. God, he looked good in it.

“O god, I-I’m so sorry.” Garett still had the keys to his car in his hand and he sounded even more out of breath than he looked. “I thought I'd be done on time, but suddenly there was this meeting I had to go to and it was longer than scheduled of course, I-”

Oliver felt his ability to speak slowly return. And for some reason he had a smile on his face.

“God, I’m so sorry, but it’s not like I forgot our date or anything.” Garett had his eyes turned to the ground, his hands moving around as fast as they possibly could. “It’s just that- it sucks, I didn’t get to change-”

“Hey.”

“And I would’ve texted, but I jumped in the car immediately and if I had to text I would have been even later-”

“Hey, just-”

“But j-just- I apologize so much, I didn’t mean to be late, I didn’t-”

“Garett.”

Garett abruptly stopped talking, his eyes still widened. Oliver had to repress a huge smile.

“You’re not too late. I’m the one who was early. You’re precisely on time.”

Garett had his mouth open for a few seconds, but quickly closed it. He stared at Oliver for a moment, but then he turned his eyes down. Oliver could swear he saw his face beginning to turn red.

“O-oh. Great.” Garett looked up again and shifted his weight. “But I still didn’t change. I-it’s a little embarrassing.”

“Oh, it’s not a problem to me. You look good in it.”

The words had left his mouth before Oliver realized it, and when he saw Garett look away, he felt like someone just punched him in his stomach. Oh god, he shouldn’t have said that, that’s not something you say on a first date, he probably- but when Garett looked back, Oliver realized he was smiling.

“Thanks. You look good too.”

And now blushing as well. He quickly averted his gaze and turned his eyes to Sylvia. She was smiling at him, obviously having listened to the entire conversation. But after gathering herself and straightening her back, she nodded approvingly.

“I’ll show you to your table.”

“Can I taste some of that?”

“What, you’re trying to steal my chicken?”

“I absolutely am. Food always tastes so much better when it’s stolen from someone else’s plate.”

Garett chuckled and raised his fork.

“Only if I can have some of yours, then.”

What followed was a very  awkward and uncomfortable maneuvering of their arms between their wine glasses for each other’s plate, which nearly cost Oliver’s Chardonnay its life. But the piece of chicken eventually ended up in Oliver’s mouth, even though it left some greasy residue on Garett’s sleeve. But touching Garett brought Oliver some weird, uncomfortably heating joy.

“So…” Garett held his hand in front of his mouth, to make sure nothing fell out even though he was clearly talking too early. “I get the feeling you know that waitress, right?”

He nudged his head at Sylvia, who was serving a family a few tables away from them. Oliver caught her looking and she immediately smiled a smile far too devilish for his tastes. Oliver tried to fight the blood that, yet again, was rushing to his head.

“Sylvia? Y-yeah, I do. For a few years now. She was a volunteer for a project at another school I taught. And she has been stuck to me ever since.” He looked Garett in the eyes and leaned forward as if he was telling a secret. “Sometimes I think she’s determined to make my life a living hell.”

Garett attempted to hold back a chuckle.

“Do you- do you go on a lot of dates here then?”

Now the blood shot to Oliver’s head with no stopping it.

“N-no… but I come here with friends. And with my mom once.” Oliver looked at Garett and laughed. “Never doing that again.”

Now Garett failed to hold back his laugh. The sparkles it left in his eyes were still there when he looked up again.

“So she… she accepts you? Your mom? For being gay, I mean?”

“Yeah, she does. Never had any problems with it.” Oliver looked at Garett and left his fork hanging in his hand for a few seconds. There was something about the tone of his voice. Oliver understood it immediately.

“And… your parents?”

Garett stared at his plate.

“I… I don’t know. They’re okay with it, but… I know they don’t accept me. Not really. They said it wouldn’t change anything, but… any time I would talk about it, or would talk about wanting a boyfriend, they would change the subject, or stop talking. My dad once flat out said to me he didn’t want to talk about 'that weird stuff'.”

Garett paused for a moment and swallowed. “And I haven’t talked to my brother in two years.”

Oliver was silent. He looked at Garett, but he was still staring at his plate, pretending to study every piece of food very carefully. Oliver took a deep breath, trying not to let his voice quiver.

“That sucks, man.”

“Yeah, but I just wanted to say… you know, if you ever meet my parents-”

Garett quickly cut himself off and although he stared at Oliver for a few seconds, he turned his attention back to his chicken. Oliver felt his ears beginning to burn.

“I understand, though. Of course I do. I’ve been rejected by friends before… that kind of stuff.” Oliver tried to catch Garett’s gaze again.

“Little do the straight people know that they’re the weird ones.”

“Oh, I’ll say amen to that.”

Oliver was very glad to see that Garett’s smile returned again during their following conversation, continuing the topic of straight people. In fact, by the time Oliver had finished his plate, he had bursted out into a long, way too loud laugh.

“I’m just saying, don’t you hear that every time?” Oliver felt his throat beginning to turn dry; he hadn’t had a lot of chances to finish his wine.

“Straight women always complaining about how the hot ones are always gay. Every time you come out-”

“But they’re right, though, they’re right. I mean-” Garett finished his sentence by pointing at the both of them. This time it was Oliver’s turn to attempt to choke back his laughter and failing miserably. Trying not to alert other people by laughing too hard while also attempting not to blush was incredibly difficult, it turned out. And that became even harder when he suddenly heard a voice next to him.

“Are you all done?”

Oliver quickly coughed and tried to stop his chuckling while he turned his head. Luckily, it was Sylvia. But when he saw her smirk, he immediately reconsidered his sense of luck.

“Y-yeah, we’re finished.”

Oliver’s gaze crossed paths with Garett’s a few times while Sylvia started piling the plates onto her arms very professionally. He stared at her while she walked away, but he knew she was going to come back after that. She couldn’t leave them alone, definitely not after she saw them laughing like that. They had made themselves a target. There was no way she would relent.

When Sylvia inevitably returned to their table, she folded her hands and gave them a very waitress-y smile.

“Would you like to see our options for desert?”

“No, thanks,” Garett said and he moved his chair towards the table. “I’m completely full. You, Oliver?”

“Yeah, me too, actually.”

“But I would like to have some coffee, though.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t drink that here.” Sylvia’s voice sounded strangely loud.

“It’s disgusting, to be honest.”

“Oh, it’s not that bad, r-”

Before Oliver could finish his sentence, he felt Sylvia kick him in the ankle. He flinched, but when he looked up, ready to send her a fiery gaze, she winked at him. It took Oliver a few seconds to understand.

“O-oh… w-we could drink something at my place, i-if you want.”

It looked like Garett was biting his lip as he stared at Sylvia. Holding in his laugh, as if he had definitely understood what had just transpired between the two. Oliver felt himself beginning to turn red already. But when Garett’s eyes suddenly shot to him, he smiled.

“Sure. I’d like that.”

The redness didn’t go away.

“All right… great.”

Once they had stood up, Garett walked over to him.

“You don’t think you can loan me a shirt or anything, right? I’ve got to wear this uniform again tomorrow and I’ve already sweat in it so much.”

Garett briefly looked over his shoulder. “Plus, everyone’s staring at us.”

“Nah, that’s because we’re gay.”

Garett chuckled again.

“Okay, that’s true. But then… shall we?”

“Yup, let’s go.”

Oliver’s face was still red, he was sure of it. He didn’t think it was going to go away for the rest of the night, either. Not while Garett was in his apartment. But if that meant he had to choose between blushing forever and being with Garett… he thought he knew what he'd pick.

[tillie-bean]

Echodragon Reads: P4 Chapter 3.

Hey guys, Echo here, and today we delve into chapter 3 of the worst thing I have ever read. I hate my life.

 Chapter 3: Battling a Boisterous Boy

 EchoDragon: Why? Why do you have to do this to me?

 I yawned softly as I sat at my desk.

 EchoDragon: Oh, no, I’m having flashbacks to the first chapter!

 It was 1:01, meaning only 119 minutes were left for the day.

 EchoDragon: Stop clock! F*ck sake, nobody does that! They count down the hours, not the MINUTES.

 Then there was only two more days of this.

 EchoDragon: There WERE only two more day, author. Grammar is important.

 Is it weird to be counting down the seconds until I wasn’t expected to attend this institution anymore?

 EchoDragon: *deadpan* is it weird that I don’t care that you just changed tense?

 Don’t get me wrong, I’m not one of those stupid brats that moan whenever they have to use their underdeveloped brains for 3 fifths of a second.

 EchoDragon: Suspiciously Specific Denial!

 However, what I hate is the weeks when we aren’t learning anything, and that is what we are currently doing.

 EchoDragon: You! You are the one who is ruining grammar! I’ll kill you!

 The teachers are just killing time and ‘phoning it in’ until the latest batch of ungrateful brats leave for the year to go out into the real world and learn just how soul crushing the experience is.

 EchoDragon: It’s not that bad! I’m doing all right!

 I am sure the best part about being a teacher is running into your previous, annoying students and seeing how much the real world had crushed their spirit and their dreams.

 EchoDragon: umm, that took a dark turn. I’m pretty sure that teachers aren’t that cruel.

 I am sure if I was a teacher and I ran into one of those insects like… James and Rachel I think is their names… and I saw them with their eyes full of despair with their ambitions and annoying mannerisms ground into nothing I would feel so validated and smug.

 EchoDragon: Not one single comma was seen in that entire sentence. I hate my life. Also, what was that? I have no idea what just happened. The first paragraph was just a horrible mish-mash of words that the author just pulled out of her ass. F*ck this.

 I drifted off as I thought back to yesterday. After I was given my Pokemon, Professor Juniper also entrusted me with the most important part of the scholarship of hers, A Pokedex.

 EchoDragon: Why? You don’t have to sit an exam to get a Pokédex! Author just wanted to make Bitchy look better than everyone else! *Flips a table*

 Most people think the most important part about this scholarship is the rare Pokemon.

 EchoDragon: the starter Pokémon aren’t that rare, you know. Anyone can walk into the lab and be given one, as shown in the previous chapter.

 However most people are idiots, and idiots are too busy distracted by the cute Pokemon to realize how important a small, portable information resource on every Pokemon in existence.

 EchoDragon: Yeah, because you didn’t notice how cute they were! You didn’t notice at all!

 It is like carrying an entire library with me everywhere I go.

 EchoDragon: oh, please! Bitchy, are you seriously trying to tell me that you can READ? You’re a liar. A lying liar who lies.

 It is literally priceless, which is probably why so few are made and why you can’t just go to some store and buy one.

 EchoDragon: Wait, you can’t? So where do all of the Pokémon Professors get them, then? I refuse to believe that they aren’t made by a company somewhere. That’s like saying that you can’t go any buy a DNA sequencer. You CAN, but most plebs don’t know where to buy one, and they cost a hell of a lot of money. But scientists are given research funds, and said research funds pay for things like fancy equipment. I refuse to believe that each Pokémon Professor only ever has two to give out. F*ck you, Bitchy. Why don’t you pay attention to the world around you? Then maybe you wouldn’t be so f*cking stupid.

 As I was trying to find something to distract myself, I realized I had subconsciously pulled my Pokeball out of my pockets.

 EchoDragon: yes, she pulled one Pokéball out of multiple pockets. Anyone else see the problem with that? As a side note, I completely lost where we were in that stupid Pokédex speech, and forgot that Bitchy is supposed to be at school.

 I don’t even know why I brought my new Tepig, but I did.

 EchoDragon: I know the answer!

 As someone who (unlike most people my age) has never owned a Pokemon it was always quite fascinating to me seeing people get so attached to Pokemon.

 EchoDragon: Oh, I get it. She’s a special little snowflake because she has never owned a Pokémon before. F*ck you.

 I hypothesised that it was something similar to the attachment a mother feels for their baby, and now that I own one I can confirm that hypothesis.

 EchoDragon: Wait, she has a BABY? How old is she? She’s still at school! I take back everything I said, give this girl some RESPECT! She’s raising a kid! What? Oh. She meant that she now has a POKÉMON. Yeah, never mind. *takes back the respect*

 Maybe Pokemon and humans have evolved to form quick and powerful connections with each other?

 EchoDragon: Because that would be so shocking! That NEVER happens in nature! *Slams down a textbook on co-evolution*

 All I know is if it can effect someone like me it must be powerful.

 EchoDragon: NO. F*CKING. COMMAS.

 “You have a Pokemon?”

 EchoDragon: Who? Who is speaking right now?

 I looked up after hearing the high pitched squeal, and saw that Rachel insect was looking at me shocked.

 EchoDragon: Why is she shocked? It’s not an unusual occurrence in the Pokémon universe.

 “Good, it can analyse information. Pretty soon you will have the intellect of an insect.”

 EchoDragon: Why do you speak like this? It makes you sound so stupid. Author, I know this is called Predictable, PRETENTIOUS Pokemon Plot, but do you have to be so pretentious? You swallowed the Thesaurus, didn’t you?

 I mean what is the point of asking stupid questions like that?

 EchoDragon: *With her head in her hands* what’s the point of reading this stupid fic? *Sobs*

 Of course I have a Pokemon. Who the hell would bring an empty Pokeball with them to their school?

 EchoDragon: Oh, I don’t know, Bitchy. Maybe Pokémon Trainers? You know, they might want to catch some new Pokémon? Wait, what am I talking about? Of course they wouldn’t. Because Bitchy said so! *flings everything off her desk in a rage*

 Then again, this girl was a little on the thick side, both intelligence and appearance wise.

 EchoDragon: Oh, no. you did not just f*cking say that. Ok, author. Imma get real with you, right now. Do you know how many people have issues with their weight? I do. I know, because I’m one of them. It’s an actual problem with actual consequences. Do you know what makes it worse? People like you. People like you who think that just because someone doesn’t have the ‘perfect’ body shape, or isn’t the ‘ideal’ weight, you think you have the right to take the piss out of them, and tear them apart. Do you know what happens when you do that? People become obsessed with their weight, until they can’t see how they really look, and are convinced that they are fat. What the hell is wrong with being bigger? Nothing. Do you really think that calling someone fat makes you any skinnier? It doesn’t. Likewise, calling someone stupid doesn’t make you any smarter. So instead of trying to tear people down and make their lives a misery, why don’t you think about what you write, and actually realise that your words do have an effect. Hell, their making me angry right now! But even when you aren’t directing it at someone, it doesn’t mean that you aren’t going to offend them. It doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.

 For someone who cares so much about their appearance, she sure seems happy to let herself go.

 EchoDragon: What’s the betting that author went to school with a girl called Rachel, and is now trying to get revenge? She’s starting to sound like Stephenie Meyer.

 Rachel looked over to her boyfriend, and whispered something into his ear.

 EchoDragon: ‘Hey, James… wanna do it so we can leave this God-awful fic?’

 He looked back at me, smiled his creepy, greasy smile and turned back to her.

 EchoDragon: He just had a burger, didn’t he! I want a Goddamn burger…

 That smile literally made me shudder, how creepy can you get?

 EchoDragon: It’s very creepy; author has no idea how punctuation works! *cowers in fear*

 The rest of the school day went by more or less without incident, unless you treat insufferable levels of boredom as an incident.

 EchoDragon: Which is why you just skipped over it.

 However, after class was dismissed and everyone left something weird happened.

 EchoDragon: Bitchy saw a comma! She had no idea what it was. It was so scary, she died of fright.

 I was standing there at my locker as I noticed a herd of my insufferable classmates had started to crowd me.

 EchoDragon: Please tell me they have pitchforks and torches…

 I had no idea why, but I assumed about 5 of them decided to surround me and thanks to the stupid sheep mentality most of the populous possesses everyone else just started huddling around me.

 EchoDragon: I… don’t even care anymore. Wake me up when something actually happens. *sleeps*

 I looked at them and sighed, I really didn’t want to interact with these sheep, but I had to get through them.

 EchoDragon: *snores*

 I closed my locker, picked up my bag and walked towards the crowd before stopping in front of them.

 EchoDragon: *still sleeping* Why doesn’t she just go a different way?

 “Move.”

“Say it nicely.”

 EchoDragon: *wakes up* what? Ok, that sounded a little bit… creepy? Things like that are only said in rapey situations. Just saying.

 They guy in front of me creepily giggled after he finished talking.

 EchoDragon: So he’s an eight year old girl? Why the f*ck did I wake up?

 How patronizing can you get? Why would I act polite to you when you treated me like a child?

 EchoDragon: Bitchy, I don’t know how to break it to you, but… you ARE a child.

 “I am not going to say it nicely, now move.”

 EchoDragon: *facepalms* come on, Bitchy. Even I know when to shut up!

 “Awww nah Jasmine, we got a few things we need to talk about. You can’t go anywhere until we are finished talkin.”

 EchoDragon: Who the f*ck talks like this? Scratch that, who the f*ck is speaking? The author never actually tells us. You could add ‘he said’ or ‘she asked’, and at least then it would be slightly easier to follow this story.

 I turned around when I heard the new voice, and saw the king and queen of the sheep standing right next to my locker.

 EchoDragon: I really don’t need a running commentary, Bitchy. Show, don’t tell.

 Well, at least Rachel and James explained why the sheep were here.

 EchoDragon: Why is she calling them sheep? If she was smart, she would call them Mareep.

 “And why are people surrounding me like this?”

 EchoDragon: Because they all want to kill you. I’m leading the mob. *waves pitchfork*

 “Ahhh, cus word got out what I am bout ta do ta ya.”

 EchoDragon: No joke. That’s actually what was written. What I find weird is that in the first chapter, James could actually speak like a normal human being. Also, if he was really that bad at speaking, he wouldn’t have said ‘I am’. Just saying.

 I looked at him, was this some sort of lynch mob?

 EchoDragon: Whenever author uses commas, she uses them in the wrong places. Just once, I would like to be able to read a sentence and not insert commas in my head.

 Not that’s stupid, why the hell would those people get a crowd to attack me like this?

 EchoDragon: I know the answer!

 Well they wouldn’t it is that simple.

 EchoDragon: Does anyone have a comma?

 But something was definitely wrong here, something weird.

 EchoDragon: No, Bitchy, NOTHING IS HAPPENING.

 “And what exactly can insects like you do to me. Apart from beating me up which if that is what you are here to do is quite pathetic.”

 EchoDragon: Can anybody understand what she just said? I bloody can’t.

 Some people might think that is digging my own grave, but honestly I doubt comments like that are going to trigger anything.

 EchoDragon: Correct, Bitchy. They won’t. Because they make NO F*CKING SENSE.

 If my comments were the straw that broke the camel’s back then they were probably going to attack me anyway.

 EchoDragon: Oh no! She had apostrophe itis! Kill it with fire! *Breathes fire*

 Also I get enough abuse hurled at me, I don’t want them to think I am inconsistent.

 EchoDragon: *whispers* what the f*ck?

 “Wat I’m gonna do is I am gonna get dat pride of yurs and smash it inta peeces.”

 EchoDragon: What the actual f*ck? Why is he speaking like this? Why? There are so many red lines on my screen at the moment, I’m pretty sure that my word processor is going to die again. IF MICROSOFT GETS TO ESCAPE, I CAN TOO! DON’T LEAVE ME TO DO THIS ALONE! *dies* *word processor dies*

 What the hell is he talking about?

“What the hell are you talking about James?”

 EchoDragon: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

 “Well, I know dat you got yur Pokemon yesterday right?”

 EchoDragon: Oh. My. Arceus. Why is he talking in text-talk? I get it, he can’t speak. But how the f*ck do you pronounce ‘yur’? Answers on a postcard, please!

 Not right, left.

 EchoDragon: What?

 But he was correct.

 EchoDragon: I know he’s right. We just spend an ENTIRE F*CKING CHAPTER waiting for you to get the stupid thing.

 Congratulations to him, he wins fabulous prizes.

 EchoDragon *as the author* ‘haha, I’m so funny! This joke is hilarious! I’m so smart, and so is Jasmine!’ *whispers* F*ck you.

 “Yeah why?”

He sneered and smiled his usual, shiver inducing smile. God that guy is disgusting.

 EchoDragon: Hey, Bitchy, maybe you should tell everyone how horrible James is again. I think some people might have missed it.

 “Well, I myself have my own Pokemon. And me and Rachel ova here were thinkin we could battle you.”

 EchoDragon: *EastEnders music plays* Shock f*cking horror.

 I sighed, the crowd was probably here to witness what was happening.

 EchoDragon: You think?!

 Not many people here had Pokemon, so Pokemon battles were a rare spectacle that people flocked to, similar to the crowds that gathered in the colosseums of ancient civilisations whenever there was a fight between a man and a Pokemon.

 EchoDragon: But you said that you were the only one who didn’t have a Po- actually, why am I even surprised? Anyway, author, what games have you been playing? Pokémon and humans fighting EACH OTHER FOR SPORT?  I must have missed that. Oh, that’s right. It never happened, but you wanted to create your own source of canon. F*ck you, whore.

 Those were dark days in human civilisation.

 EchoDragon: Today is a dark day. F*cking blue skies, and I’m sat here reading this s*it.

 “And why would I waste my time, and potentially risk my precious Pokemon’s health fighting someone like you?”

 EchoDragon: *singing* never mind, I’ll fight someone like yooooouuuuu... *head desk* I don’t know, Bitchy. Maybe because you’re a f*cking Pokémon trainer? It’s what they DO, you f*cktard.

 This time, Rachel stepped up in front of James and decided to answer me in her completely not charming and incredibly shrill voice.

 EchoDragon: We get it, you don’t like her. Shut up.

 “If you are so much betta than the rest of us why the hell wouldn’t you want to battle us huh? After that little speech of yours I am sure you want to demonstrate how much ‘betta’ you are than the rest of us. But if you’re too scared I guess you aren’t as great as you say.”

 EchoDragon: How old are you, author? In what universe do people older than four act like this?

 She more or less repeated the same thing twice, which was annoying.

 EchoDragon: Here’s an idea, author. If you yourself can see that you have just repeated the same thing over and over, maybe you should stop being redundant, and start trying to fix it. If you think your own writing is annoying, instead of pointing it out in your own story, CHANGE IT! Then I wouldn’t be reading it, and I would be happy again.

 But even more annoying was that, whilst I was fully aware that she was using a childish tactic to trick me into helping her that only an idiot would fall for.

 EchoDragon: Wait, what? What was annoying? I’m so f*cking confused! That sentence should not have ended there!

 The problem was whilst I wasn’t an idiot, I was falling for it.

 EchoDragon: Bitchy is an idiot = confirmed.

 Something about what she was saying was tickling something in me, infuriating me.

 EchoDragon: Umm, DUH. That’s the whole point!

 I looked up at the crowd, I probably couldn’t make them move so I might have to battle anyway…

 EchoDragon: Or you could say no…

 No that is me trying to justify fighting these people by tricking myself into think I haven’t fallen for something idiotic.

 EchoDragon: How could you miss that typo?

 Dammit why do I have to be so self aware…

 EchoDragon: *laughing* what? What the actual f*ck? Do you even know what being self-aware IS?

 Whatever, what do I have to lose?

 EchoDragon: your Pokémon, maybe?

 Nothing except my pride in myself, which doesn’t matter too much to these people.

 Echodragon: YOU wouldn’t be the one battling, though, would you? Your Tepig would be. So you clearly don’t care about your Pokémon, which you claim to love like a child. F*ck you.

 I sighed before I dropped my bag.

 EchoDragon: why the f*ck did you drop your bag? Oh wait, I don’t care!

 I reached down and pulled out the red and white coloured ball of mine.

 EchoDragon: Purple prose is purple.

 I stood up.

 EchoDragon: I don’t care…

 “I am not necessarily happy about being goaded into this, but I accept your challenge.”

 EchoDragon: Hey, No one is FORCING you to battle. You could just walk away. It’s not like you met his eyes or anything.

 There was a loud ‘OOOOOOOOOH’ing sort of noise from the crowd, probably to signal that they were surprised I accepted the challenge.

 EchoDragon: No, it was to signal that you’re a little bitch.

 Honestly though it sounded like that mating call of some weird predatory beast found in the middle of the Hoenn rainforests.

 EchoDragon: what rainforests? There are no rainforests in Hoenn, unless I’m very much mistaken.

 James scratched his face as he laughed.

 EchoDragon: Why did he do that? Did he have an itchy face?

 “Lady, I’m gonna make ya take back that little speech of yers.”

 EchoDragon: Why is everyone so pissed off about the speech? I know, it was horrible, but she’s done so many other s*itty things. I really don’t think they should be focusing on one event. They should instead focus on how much of a s*itty person she is.

 The only thing more gross than his smile and laugh was the way he butchered the correct pronunciation of basic words.

 EchoDragon: you know, I really don’t think I could have worked that out on my own. Thanks for the clarification. Now go sit on a cactus.

 “And once I beat you it will become apparent how below me you truly are”

 EchoDragon: Ok, I have no idea who is speaking. I’m assuming it’s Bitchy, but for all I know, a random person could have started speaking.

 Once again this man and his girlfriend started laughing, I don’t know why since I didn’t say anything that warranted such a reaction.

 EchoDragon: They looked at your face, Bitchy. That’s why they laughed.

 “You are at least honest you whore.”

 EchoDragon: Aww yeah, slut shaming! Yeah, you tell her, James/Rachel!

 There was that annoying, shrill voice again.

 EchoDragon: It would be so much easier just to say: ‘Rachel said’ at the end.

 The name however annoyed me, since by all definition I am not a whore.

 EchoDragon: Just keep telling yourself that, Bitchy.

 I have no idea why people like her seem to lose their cool and devolve into insults so easily but what should you expect?

 EchoDragon: Because when you insult people, you’re trying to hurt them. So she called to a whore to hurt your feelings, because you treat her like s*it all the time.

 “Dis is gonna be a one vs one Pokemon match, mine vs yurs. Simple enuff right?”

 EchoDragon: This doesn’t happen before a battle, you know. You just decide to battle.

 James pulled out a Pokeball as he explained the rules to me.

 EchoDragon: I really f*cking hate the writing in this fic. I know he’s explaining the rules. I can read.

 I half expected it to be covered in dirt, so I was pleasantly surprised when it rather clean.

 EchoDragon:Hey, author? I think you that sentence.

 Looks like whilst he couldn’t maintain a clean appearance he could maintain a clean Pokeball.

 EchoDragon: that’s because he likes to touch his balls…

 “let’s get this over with. I should be home by now. Go Vulcan!”

 EchoDragon: hmm. Let’s see how appropriate the nickname ‘Vulcan’ is, shall we? Ok, so Vulcan is a Roman fire God, commonly associated with volcanoes. Ok, I’ll give you that one.

 I threw down my Pokeball, and once it hit the ground my small pig Pokemon burst from it, before the ball floated back into my hand.

 EchoDragon: Pokéballs don’t float…

 Yeah I nicknamed my Tepig, so what?

 EchoDragon: there’s nothing wrong with nicknaming a Pokémon!

 And no I don’t care if you don’t like the nickname.

 EchoDragon: Was that supposed to be an author’s note? When writing in the first person, the character isn’t really supposed to be directing narration as if they know the audience is there. You’re breaking the fourth wall there, author.

 Once I had caught the Pokeball again my Tepig oinked loudly, and turned around and looked up at me smiling a stupid looking smile that made me smile myself.

 EchoDragon: Why are you saying that Tepig looks stupid? It’s adorable! You’re a little Bitch, and I hate you.

 “Pffffft you called your Tepig Vulcan, how lame can a bitch like you get.”

 EchoDragon: Of course. The ‘enemies’ don’t like it.

 I just explained that I don’t care if people dislike the name Rachel.

 EchoDragon: No, you said you didn’t care if people didn’t like the name VULCAN, Bitchy. Also, Rachel couldn’t hear you. She can’t read minds.

 Shut up, and stop swearing too it is unnecessary.

 EchoDragon: I don’t want to stop f*cking searing! Imma use all the Goddamn swear words I like, Bitch. You know what, you f*ckwit? I’m gonna swear in every bloody sentence from now on, and you’re just gonna have to deal with it! Peace out, mother f*cker!

 “Nickname or not, Imma make pork chops out of that pig. Go Patrat!”

 EchoDragon: *sniggers* Ok, that was pretty funny. I like you, James.

 James threw a Pokeball down as he shouted that and once it hit the ground it released a small, brown rat with eye that looked like the eyes of a lunatic in a children’s cartoon.

 EchoDragon: Ha! Get it! Patrat IS in a children’s cartoon! That’s so funny! *grabs scalpel* Get out.

 I didn’t know what it was, but I knew it was ugly.

 EchoDragon: That’s funny, that’s how I felt when I first saw this fic!

 The unknown Pokemon growled at the back of my Vulcan, which attracted my Pokemon’s attention and caused him to turn around.

 EchoDragon: Oh, for f*cks sake, the Tepig is as stupid a Bitchy! I’m pretty sure it would hear someone talking and maybe think: ‘oh, things are happening, maybe I should turn the f*ck around instead of looking at this bint,’ but no. Vulcan the Tepig is cursed with stupidity. I’m so sorry, Vulcan. Your life will be short, and full of hatred. Let’s have a moment of silence for Vulcan the Tepig. He was too good to be this stupid. *Gross sobbing*

 Once it looked at the Pokemon that I recognised from studying as Patrat my Vulcan realized what was happening, and tried to intimidate it by growling. However it failed miserably at it.

 EchoDragon: If you recognised it, why did you say it was unknown? Are you really as stupid as you look?

 I kinda wish I knew more about that Patrat though beca… wait I am a moron.

 EchoDragon: I could have told you that!

 I have a Pokedex in my pocket,

 EchoDragon: And I have no f*cks left to give!

 You know, a device that is more or less a portable library.

 EchoDragon: Oh, God, don’t start on about the library AGAIN!

 I pulled out the Pokedex and opened it up slowly.

 EchoDragon: I don’t care. At all.

 Having used it on Tepig yesterday I knew how to use the basic functions, so I didn’t look like an idiot in front of this crowd.

 EchoDragon: Right. After using it very briefly ONCE, she knows exactly how to use it. I call bulls*it!

 Then again I don’t know why I care if they think I am an idiot or not.

 EchoDragon: I don’t know either, Bitchy. You don’t like these people, so why do you care what they think?

 I opened my Pokedex and pointed it at the Patrat, when the automatic scan feature was enabled.

 EchoDragon: you opened a Pokédex that was already open. Right.

 After a second of loading suddenly its screen was filled with information about Patrat, such as its potential move-pool, typing, information about the species and where you can find it.

 EchoDragon: I… think you may be confusing the Pokédex with the DexNav, which is similar, but NOT THE SAME THING! Dumbass.

 I looked at the Pokedex and using this information quickly came up with a plan.

 EchoDragon: Ok, I’m going to cheat here. The rest of this chapter is the single most boring attempt at a Pokémon battle that I have ever read, so I’m going to skip it, and just give you a quick run-down of what happened. Ready?

Vulcan the f*ckpig used Tackle. Tackle is never a plan. Patrat used Tackle. Both Pokémon got hurt. I don’t really get it either. Vulcan used Tackle. Patrat used Tackle. I try to kill myself from boredom. Tepig used Ember to, and I quote, “Burn that ugly Patrat!” Tepig used Tackle. Patrat faints. Then we get this gem.

 I won, as expected from someone like me.

 EchoDragon: The end! That was s*it. And guess what? Next chapter, author tries to throw a plot into the story! And yes, it is crap.

 Bye for now, Puddings!

~Echodragon

[notesfromthepen]

The Michigan Squeeze Play

This is what a Michigan Department Of Corrections (MDOC) squeeze play looks like...

It's all about the money. It always is. Prison is no exception. After you've lost it all, physically, mentally, spiritually, stripped bare in every sense of the word, from family to freedom, just when you think there's nothing left to take, they go after the money; yes, even if you don't have any.

Before the gavel has fallen, the calculations are already underway. One of the very first pieces of paperwork you will receive, after sentencing, is a bill.

The moment you're locked up you have an account balance; plus or negative, black or red, blessed or fucked.

In a perfect world you'd start with a balance of 0$; an "unlocked" account, where the hard-earned money deposited in your account by friends and family isn't taxed at astronomical rates—but as we all know by now, the world is anything but perfect.

Initially, there are two billable items every inmate worries about after sentencing: restitution and court costs. Both are tabulated by a seemingly unchecked, rather arbitrary, internal system of shady, unverifiable, mathematics. Mysterious numbers and randomly placed commas. These two balances hang heavy in determining the type of prison bid you have in store.

The brain-trust in Lansing somehow decided, decades ago, that $50 is the magic number that an inmate needs per month to meet all of our institutional needs; an immovable number in the face of inflation, with lower wages, and the ever-increasing prices of store items.

If the court has imposed either of these fees upon you, either restitution or court costs, as long as it's only one, anything deposited in your account over your first $50 will be taxed at a rate of 50%.

So if, on the 1st of the month, you get a $100 deposit, you will receive $75 in your account. If on the 2nd you get another $100, you will receive $50.

If the judge has decided you owe BOTH, restitution and court costs, anything over your allotted $50 is taxed at %100. Making it impossible to get any more than $50 a month.

I know that this might seem like one of those "boo hoo, cry me a river you fucking deviant of an inmate" scenarios. Well, let me explain why that's not exactly a fair response.

So let's break it down. If you were to have both fees imposed—yes even if, as in my case, you were blindsided by outrageous court costs, even though you qualified as indigent and provided a PUBLIC DEFENDER, even if you took a guilty plea so that a trial NEVER took place, and they still slapped you with a $6,000+ fee for court costs, as well as an $8,000+ fee for restitution, you could never get more than $50 a month, until your outstanding debt is brought down to $0.

$14,000 or a MILLION; at a certain point it's all the same when you're living hand to mouth.

If you do the math on the monthly $50 I get, that comes out to a budget of exactly $12.50 a week.

It might not sound so bad, huh? You probably think you could do it...right? And maybe you could. I mean I have—not without cutting every corner I can find—but I think you be surprised at the difficulty you'd face. It sounds easy until you realize what all the $12.50/week has to cover. Toothpaste, deodorant, toothbrush, shampoo, soap, floss, hair products, baby powder, Q-tips, and lotion. And that's just SOME of the hygiene. You didn't think hygiene was provided by the prison did you?

I should tell you there is a "safety net" for indigent inmates who can't afford deodorant and toothpaste. But trust me when I tell you this charity isn't out of a sense of responsibility or some other moral justification. This is strictly crowd control. The fact that we're stacked on top of each other already makes for a hostile environment; add a bunkie who's aroma is a clear violation of the Geneva convention and you have the components for constant chaos; poor hygiene, impending assault, solitary confinement, ambulance ride, medical bills, paperwork in triplicate. It's the paperwork that gets 'em.

Oh, they'll help you, help them, but you should also know, there are going to be some stipulations; if you can prove you're broke and show that you haven't had ANY money deposited into your account for 6 months, you can apply for indigent status; where, if you're approved—a process that takes 6-8 weeks—they’ll front you the money for some basic hygiene (roughly $11/month); all of which will be added as an outstanding balance to be collected from any future deposits from friends or family members. Institutional reimbursement. So, if you ARE indigent, don't plan on using the $20 aunt Martha scrapped together for your birthday to get yourself a honeybun or a bag of chips to celebrate yet another year in paradise.

With that being said, VERY few people actually qualify for indigent status. The guidelines are intentionally too stringent. Not a dollar deposited in your account for six months?

So if, by some financial wizardry, you manage to cover your hygiene with the $12.50, you'd be set right? I mean after all, food is provided.

Not so fast.

In 2013, to slow the fiscal bleeding of their bloated prison budget, the MDOC contracted out the food service responsibilities. Aramark—a private company—out bid the competitors. Said thy could do it at the lowest cost for Michigan tax payers and still turn a hefty profit. After all it's not like we could choose to go somewhere else. Not long after Aramark, with their shareholders and profit margins, took over operations, that corners began being cut and fuckery was always on the menu. They were serving cruelly undersized portions of intentionally inedible food, in an attempt to lower the amount of inmates coming going to chow, saving money on their food costs. 

But they must not have know who they were dealing with. There are always stipulations when dealing with the MDOC. Part of Aramark's payment was in correlation with a minimum amount of inmates who showed up everyday for chow.

In the first few years Aramark was fined several million dollars for failing to meet their basic contract requirements. They soon decided it was no longer economically viable to continue the business venture of feeding inmates.

Trinity Food Service immediately stepped in to fill the void. They were given much less restrictions; they got paid regardless of how many inmates showed up to eat. And with this blank check, they were smart enough to buy into a company called Access—who, not-so-coincidentally, is the commissary provider for entire MDOC. This conflict-of-interest/marriage-made-in-hell actually incentivized serving inedible food which would drive up commissary sales by the inmates supplementing the inadequate diet provided by Trinity. Just last year, forced by the exposure of this scandal, as well as the same financial problems that drove Aramark out, Trinity followed suit.

The MDOC took back the reigns. Since then, neither the menu or the serving sizes have changed.

So yeah, TECHNICALLY, food is provided. But if you plan on relying on the free cuisine of the MDOC for your sole source of sustenance, then plan on being hungry for most of your life; I mean genuinely, stomach-grumbling hungry—go to bed hungry, wake up hungry—all you think about is FOOD, hungry.

And if you find yourself willing to use some of that $12.50 budget for food, make sure to choose your commissary items sparingly.

If you've been paying attention it shouldn't surprise you to learn that the food items on the store list aren't exactly priced to compete. There is no competition.

Let's say you planned to spend half your weekly budget—$6.25—on hygiene; that would buy you one Power Up deodorant (the cheapest available) at $2.50, a Cool Wave toothpaste (also the cheapest) at $1.50, a bar of cocoa-butter soap at $.65, a bottle of Suave shampoo at $2.25, and OPPS, you've already exceeded your budget by 67¢. And you didn't even get a toothbrush yet. Keep in mind these are travel size products.

So let's just say, for the sake of argument—and a hatred for math, that a benevolent inmate hooked you up with a free set of bristles.

That leaves you with $5.60 to deal with your incessantly bitchy digestive system for the upcoming week. As every college student and prison inmate knows, the best bang for your buck are Ramen noodles. They'll run you .34¢ a piece. You'll want at least two per day. That comes out to $4.76/week. And maybe a 8oz tub of cheese for flavor at 1.84, which comes out to $6.60. Still $1 over budget. Since soups are .34¢, you'll have to cut three from your total. Sure, three days of the week you'll be more than a little hungry but you'll survive—plus you'll make it under budget.

Oh, but you forgot to order a bowl or a spoon. Fuck! Those will cost you a few extra bucks. You'll have to take it out of next week's budget. You'll just eat less in the weeks to come. After all, you gotta do what you gotta do.

Now you have your hygiene and food for the week. Sure, you're broke, but you're relatively clean and you even have a couple of soups.

Success! See that wasn't so bad.

You celebration won't last too long before you to realize that you won't have money to put on the phone so you can talk to your family,

no stamps to write them,

no pens,

no pencils,

no paper,

no tablet,

no coat to supplement the windbreaker they give you while in Michigan's upper peninsula,

no sweat pants,

no wife beaters,

no boxers,

no extra t-shirts,

no gym shoes to play sports in,

no watch,

no sunglasses

no fan

no TV

no music to put on your tablet,

no nail clippers,

no ChapStick,

no money for a haircut,

no footlocker,

no lock,

no art supplies if you want to draw or paint,

no books,

no magazines,

no coffee,

no coffee cup,

no cup in general,

no salt,

no pepper,

no shower shoes,

no money for mail so you can't attend a correspondence college,

no frivolous snack food that EVERY human being should have access to when they're feeling like shit.

You'll have NO extra money for ANYTHING, but you'll survive.

When I first came to prison I heard about a motion you can file to get your fees suspended for a few years so you can at least buy your appliances and personal property; a TV and some underwear. It cost me four bags of coffee at $3.62 a piece to have it drafted and typed up.

Six weeks later I received a response from my judge. In his opinion, "$50 a month is more than adequate to live comfortably while in prison." I wish he were right.

Now I don't want you to get the wrong idea; we don't just lay down and die under the boot of these financial restrictions; we do find ways survive; much to the dismay of the MDOC.

They don't want us to run stores,

to loan out food at an interest rate,

to run gambling tables,

to make alcohol,

to do tattoos,

to fix or alter electronics,

to make and sell taffy or fudge,

to send money to our homie's unlocked accounts so they can go to store for us.

They don't let us receive the money to take care of ourselves, and they don't want us to hustle it up.

If we get popped engaging in any of these entrepreneurial activities we can be hit with disciplinary tickets resulting in loss of privileges, raised security level, and even solitary confinement.

Still, you gotta do what you gotta do.

It's beautiful to see that the world is beginning to wake up to the injustices of the criminal justice system (irony, anyone?), like the travesty of mass incarceration, the racial disparities in sentencing, and the horrendous effects of longterm solitary confinement. But the problem is systemic; it runs through EVERY aspect of the prison industrial complex, and it's necessary to expose the smaller, less well known, areas of fuckery taking place in here as well.

Sometimes it can be less about the actual mechanisms of oppression, and more about the idiocy, that's so hard to endure. I mean think about it; If they would tax 25%-50% of money over $50/month, it would both allow US to get some of the things we need, as well as provide at least SOME money towards their squeeze play of restitution and court costs. As it stands now, no one I know, who owes BOTH fees, EVER allows more than $50 to be deposited into their account, because 100% of it will be taken. Of course they're fucking US over, but these assholes are fucking THEMSELVES over too! This is the enraging stupidity that, those of us paying attention, have to deal with in here. It’s terrifying to think that these are the same assholes responsible for our well being.

Still we find ways to subvert the system; we hustle when we can, live off the secure packs our friends and family order us once a quarter, find slick ways to have our families drop money in our friend's unlocked accounts so they can go to store for us (without this little loophole I don't know what I'd do), and we save up for the property we need one month at a time.

As difficult it is to get used to, I've learned a lot about the difference between what I WANT and what I NEED. Anyone who knows me knows this isn't about pity—it isn't even about money—I’ve turned this place, this struggle, this minimalist lifestyle into a chance to discover my inner strength. Rarely in life do you get the opportunity to find out what you're really made of, what you're capable of withstanding. This isn't about belly aching; its about uncovering the hypocrisy and foot-in-the-mouth policies of the system I am currently being ground through.

It's about telling the world what I see... and maybe venting a little bit.

The world needs to know that in prison there is this all pervasive and ever-present feeling of being constantly fucked over, constantly taken advantage of. Even the money. Everything of value is squeezed dry by these heartless corporations who've lobbied their way into a captive market of consumers that would’ve given Rockefeller nocturnal emissions.

Global Tel-Link, our prison phone provider, was recently sued for price gouging inmates and their families, charging .30¢/minute. The court ordered them to drop their rates to match standard FCC regulated phone carriers and to eliminate fraudulent fees. Days before the mandated changes were to take place Global Tel-Link filed appeals. Not because they would win but because it would buy them another year of swindling families with impunity.

JL Marcus and Access, the companies we buy our shoes and clothes from, get their merchandise from discounted items the factory has deemed irregular or too damaged for retail sale. They mark up these otherwise unsellable items and push them on us. Our boxers cost $20 a 3/pack, and the stitching is already coming undone. Our shoes are missing rivets, or the soles aren't glued properly so after a few weeks they flop like on overheated Labrador.

JPay, the company that provides the tablet I'm currently using to write this rant, charges us $.25 an email, tablets that are constantly breaking or malfunctioning, and accessories with planned obsolescence.

Even the vending machines in the visiting room here charge $3.50 for everything from tiny microwavable cheeseburgers to tiny burritos, and $4 photos with your kids.

The MDOC even has its own company called MSI. For the last three years I've been trying to save up for a footlocker that couldn't cost more than $5 to produce yet they marked the price up again this year; it's now up to, $118$. That's three months without going to the store for ANYTHING, food or hygiene. (I’m still saving for it by the way.)

These over-priced items are what we starve ourselves for. We save month after month just to be ripped off and fucked over. Capitalism at its best; America at its worst.

There is something truly evil, truly criminal, in taking such obvious advantage of the helpless and vulnerable... and I'm not talking about US; I'm talking about OUR FAMILIES, who have to single handedly foot the outrageous bill in order to maintain a connection with their loved ones; to buy a price-gouged peace of mind, to know that we're properly clothed and fed while we are away, to, often, choose between rent and a relationship with a brother, father, son, sister, mother, daughter.

At some point you just get fed up with the hypocrisy of it all. We know what we did to get in here. And we're actively participating in what society has asked of us to make amends. But to listen to these righteous assholes preach about justice, while their hands are firmly planted in our back pockets, is becoming more than one man should be asked to endure.

Everywhere you turn you come to see that this place doesn't FOSTER rehabilitation it REJECTS it. They force us into poverty and make all the shit we do to survive illegal... They cut off our hands and wonder why we won't stop using our feet!

It's spirit crushing. It's heartbreaking. It's the place I call home.

This was meant to be an outlet for the frustration with our prison debts but snowballed into an outburst about all things monetarily fucked in the system. Sometimes, writing is all I can do to keep from losing my shit. I get a slight sense of relief knowing that some of the bullshit we deal with will be brought to light no matter how dim the illumination proves to be.

So thanks for listening to another ranting tirade of a lowly inmate in the Michigan Department of Corrections. Just another man learning to write with his feet while trying to save for a footlocker....one month at a time.

And in case you were wondering; this is what an MDOC squeeze play looks like.

Your friendly neighborhood convict, Bobby C. @NotesFromThePen

[turnabouttoothbrush]

Shared Secrets

Damn you all for making me actually produce content for my blog! Damn you!!

Today’s sporkers

(We open up in our sporking theatre, which will soon be the scene of a terrible disaster.)

Fallen: Terrible disaster? I’m not sure that’s what I’d call our first real sporking since we moved out to Utah!

Hawksky: The collabs with Sith were real sporkings, Fallen.

Fallen: Yeah, but it is nice to get some OC on this blog for once, right?

Aziz: We just did, like, two liveblogs, too.

Fallen: Anyway! Roll fic~!!

It wasn't like Liquid had actually planned this. The word had just slipped out unbidden, and when he realized what he'd said, it was already too late to take it back. Liquid was bent over the table in Big Boss's office,

Aziz: I wish we could make fun of the pairing, but not only have we written it ourselves but we also have it on our recommendations page...

Hawksky: C’mon, Aziz, when has being a hypocrite ever stopped us?

Aziz: Point. I don’t even know where to start with this, though.

just like he was so many times already, although it had been a long time since he was invited here last. Liquid kept on telling him that he would do better this time, but got nothing but a disapproving grunt out of Big Boss. This time it all went a bit different though.

Fallen: This time he [insert something suitably ridiculous and meme-y here]

Aziz: Fallen! That’s a cop-out!

Fallen: Well excuse me if I didn’t want to go into Bum Tickley-tier random access comedy myself!!

He was trying his hardest not to struggle too much, while still rocking his hips into his father's thrusts, his head pressed on the table with a strong hand. Liquid's mind slowly crumbled while the thrusts of Big Boss's hips kept their steady rhythm, seemingly unimpressed by the blond's enthusiasm.

Fallen: But alas, not even sex could get his father’s attention.

Hawksky: This is in-character, actually.

Liquid's face was distorted in an expression of pleasure, almost drooling on the table beneath him. It had been weeks since someone had fucked him like this. After Big Boss had fucked him the first time, Eli just wasn't able to

Fallen: Hold up- don’t just change what you’re referring to a character as in the middle of a paragraph for no reason! Consistency, dangit!

Aziz: Not to mention that, outside of Liquidmantis fic, it’s pretty much an accepted convention to use “Liquid” when you’re referring to him as an adult and “Eli” when you’re referring to him as a child.

Hawksky: Because more pedo shit is exactly what this blog needs?

Aziz: We really need to start archiving these sporkings just in case we get banned and have to migrate to... I dunno... back to LiveJ--

Hawksky: Never again. Fucking website kept eating our HTML!

Aziz: Oh yeah, I vaguely remember that...

find anyone to fulfill his desires anymore. He wanted no one else, but his father didn't really want him.

Hawksky: #canon

Panting heavily, the word just slipped out of his mouth.

“Harder... daddy!”

(And just like the last time we sporked one of these stupid kinkfics, everyone just collectively loses it at the word “Daddy”.)

Fallen: Okay, is it- hehehe-- is it bad that I could, like, totally see Liquid being the type of person who is ridiculous and over-the-top enough to actually post DDLB memes on social media?

Aziz:

Hawksky:

Aziz: I think that’s a little too on-the-nose here.

Hawksky: Yeah? So is Liquid calling his literal father “daddy”.

Aziz: True.

He could feel Big Boss stutter in his movements

Hawksky: To be fair, I’m not sure how I would react to that either.

Fallen: I don’t think any normal person does. Not that that precludes Hawksky or anything, ehehe...

Aziz: *as Big Boss* Wait, what’s a “daddy”?

and for a tense moment, neither of them was moving. Shit. Liquid was sure Big Boss was going to straight up kick him out of his office and never invite him here ever again.

Fallen: Well, it’d probably be better in that case, soooo...

He made a whimpering noise when his father pulled out of him, almost preparing himself for his soul to get crushed. His father whipped him around with a force that was truly fitting for the legendary soldier.

Aziz: Glad he’s making good use of those skills.

Hawksky: The Boss ain’t die for this

Liquid felt frozen in place, unable to even take up a defensive stance. He would catch the full force of his blow if Big Boss decided to deck him across the face. 

Fallen: Aww, not the face! He’s so pretty :(

Aziz: The rest of the body is fair game, though. Within tasteful limits, obviously.

Hawksky: Don’t your “tasteful limits” start at disembowelment?

Aziz: Like you’re one to talk, Hawksky. (And they just start at traumatic lacerations, chill out...)

Slowly he could feel his fathers hands resting on his hips and he was unexpectedly heaved on the table behind him. His eyes went wide when he saw Big Boss watching him with an intense gaze. Eli was

Fallen: Ugh, not again...!

Aziz: Author, pay attention!

holding his breath, not daring to move until he got the verdict for his actions. Everything seemed to play out in slow motion when his father grabbed his hair and brought his mouth to his ear and Liquid could only stare at the wall behind them, panic rising in the pit of his stomach.

"Say that again." Big Boss commanded him, his breath hot on his ear.

Aziz: I guess it wouldn’t be much of a fic if BB weren’t into it.

Hawksky: Correction: it would be a shorter, but much funnier fic if he weren’t.

Aziz: I’ll admit the concept of someone getting literally drop-kicked naked and screaming out of a tryst for having a daddy kink is pretty hilarious.

Eli slowly released the breath he's been holding,

Fallen: And now a tense change? Huh, the author really wasn’t paying attention, were they? Well, it isn’t happening constantly, so I guess it’s just a slip here and there, but...

Aziz: ...but the author really should have gotten a beta reader. As hypocritical as it is for us to say that considering we don’t have one ourselves.

Hawksky: Yeah, but how do you ask someone to beta read your BBLiquid fucking daddy kink fic?

Aziz: Shit, I’d do it in a heartbeat.

barely able to process what Big Boss had said. It was definitely a command, just like the ones that came out of Big Boss's mouth during training, but the demand was very different. Was he really okay with this, or even more unbelievably, was he enjoying this too?

Hawksky: I’d make an “at least someone is” joke but honestly this really isn’t all that bad.

Fallen: It just happens to involve one of the most inherently ridiculous kinks out there.

Hawksky: Along with a pairing with a, uh, really good potential for schadenfreude.

Liquid almost couldn't get the words out of his mouth but he slowly pulled his legs apart, leaning back on the table.

"Please, fuck me harder, daddy." he said,

Aziz: Protip: if a line of dialogue is immediately followed by the dialogue tag (”he said”), then you’re supposed to put a comma where that period goes. I don’t know how so many people miss this.

Fallen: Apparently they don’t teach this in schools anymore?

Aziz: People should really pay more attention to what they’re reading if they’re setting out to write something, though...

Hawksky: Yet another problem that could have been solved by an editor! Seriously, writing a BBLiquid daddy kink fic isn’t that shamefuhuahahahahahahahaha dammit I can’t finish that sentence with a straight face.

looking into the other's blue eye, still afraid to be kicked out any moment. After all, Big Boss could just be playing with his feelings, like he already did so many times. He was almost waiting for the blow of Big Boss pushing him from the table and knocking him on the floor, but that blow never came. Instead Big Boss just moved closer, pressing the head to his entrance again, pushing back into Eli with a force that he loved.

Fallen: ...you know, considering this is a daddy kink fic, maybe the randomly switching to a name usually used a shorthand for “he’s a kid” is intentional? Like, it’s supposed to be the ‘littlespace’ thing?

Hawksky: It doesn’t happen at the right times for that to be true, though.

Aziz: Excuse me while I try to wrap my head around what ‘littlespace’ would be like for a former child soldier.

They both let out a deep moan when Big Boss was buried deep inside of him again, from a different angle this time. That moan of approval was so much softer than any noise Eli had ever heard out of Big Boss's mouth, and it went straight to his groin.

"You really are a naughty boy, do you know that, Eli?" Big Boss growled when he picked up his rhythm again, hitting Liquid in just the right spot every time. His dick twitched at the sound of his first name from Big Boss's lips, his cheeks turning a bright red. He couldn't believe his luck.

Hawksky: “I can’t believe my luck! I get to fuck my dad!”

Was he really able to find Big Boss's secret kink just like that? And would he finally look at him, now that he's able to fulfill his desires? Liquid never thought being called a naughty boy would turn him on so much, but it just did. Especially since the words came out of his father's mouth.

Aziz: I’m kinda of the opinion here that if you’re already having incestuous sex, you don’t really have the right to be surprised that something turns you on, no matter what it is.

Fallen: DDLB is kind of a logical procession from boning your father, anyway, isn’t it...

"Yes, I'm a naughty boy, daddy!

Hawksky:

Please fuck me."

Aziz: I was so focused on the period even being there that I forgot to point out that ending that sentence with a period makes him sound... kind of bored.

Fallen: Liquid having sex with Big Boss to try and get his attention is funny enough on its own, Aziz. Him phoning it in is just too much.

Aziz: *extremely flat British accent* Yes, daddy. Ooh. Fuck me hard.

Liquid moaned, wrapping his arms around his fathers shoulders like he was never allowed to do before. He just wanted to take the risk and pull Big Boss closer to him. And instead of swatting his hands away, Big Boss leaned down and bit his neck, leaving a dark bruise. It felt like Big Boss was claiming him and Liquid had never felt this happy in his life.

Hawksky: Well hey, I guess if that’s what it takes to get some parental acknowledgement...

Fallen: On AO3 it certainly is!

He didn't want this bruise to ever fade away. He wanted to wear it with pride and show everyone who he belongs to.

Fallen: Liquid’s never heard of keeping his kinks to himself, apparently! ...which kind of strikes me as fairly in-character...

Aziz: I’m sure BB will be just pleased as punch about this.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he was revolted with himself for living solely off the approval of his father, but he couldn't bring himself to care. It didn't matter at this point anyway. He was sure he had one of the most naughty expression on his face, with his cheeks flushed and his lips parted,

Hawksky: It’s okay, author, you can say ahegao. We aren’t that fancy around here.

when Big Boss pulled away again, his face now mere inches from Liquid's face.

"Can you be a good boy and hold back until your daddy comes?" he purred, nipping at Eli's earlobe, making him whine before he could even attempt to answer him. He was playing with him, and Eli was all too eager to apply.

Fallen: Apply? Apply what?

Hawksky: Himself?

Aziz: Liquid is absolutely the person who would have gotten the “You’re a very bright child but you just need to apply yourself” speech four times a week at school... y’know, if he ever actually went to school, which I’m pretty sure he didn’t.

Hawksky: Hey, it explains why he’s so horrible at genetics.

"Yes, please fill me up, daddy! I'll be a good boy for you." Liquid breathed out. He didn't even have time to be embarrassed because of his words when Big Boss picked up the pace again and thrust into him without holding back. His dick was already spilling pre-cum with every rut of the other's hips, but he was determined to hold back and not embarrass himself like the first time they did it.

Aziz: Oh right, I almost forgot this is a sort-of sequel to another BBLiquid fic this author wrote...

Fallen: Yeah, but that one was decent and didn’t have ridiculous dialogue, so who cares?

Big Boss was touching all the right places that he never did for Eli before. He was pulling his hair and biting a purple bruise around one of Eli's nipples. All the things that his father knew would turn him on so bad, but never did because he was still the boss and didn't need to do anything for Liquid.

Hawksky: If he never did them, then how does he know about them? That kind of thing is pretty trial-and-error.

Fallen: Ummm... maybe it’s just because he’s into it, and kinks are genetic in the MGS universe! Which I could totally buy.

Aziz: Shit, that explains why they ended up boning, too, if an incest fetish is hereditary.

Fallen: Omg, it all makes sense! Maybe the author’s more subtle than we’re giving them credit for!

Aziz: I’m not sure I would go that far...

He could hear himself spilling out needy moans and hushed pleads for his daddy to fuck him, when he already felt his climax nearing. Liquid held his breath in an desperate attempt to get back from the edge to hold out longer. Why was he touching all the right places when he wanted Liquid to hold out longer than him? His father just couldn't keep from torturing him it seems. His vision started getting blurry, when Big Boss thrusted deep into him with every rock of his hips, Eli's mouth hanging open in a silent scream that he couldn't let out yet.

Hawksky: This is absolutely ahegao.

Aziz: Should we pull out the Liquid Snake ahegao image we have lying around already?

Hawksky: Well, the one that we didn’t draw would have to be sourced to a now-deleted private Twitter account, so... no?

He heard the low panting of his father getting louder with every second until he came inside with a drawn-out moan. It was sheer torture to hold back at this point, but Eli didn't dare to come without his fathers approval, so he lay still on the table, biting his lip in an attempt to keep himself from spilling his load just yet. He needed this. He needs his daddy to tell him that he can let go right now, or he might go crazy.

When Big Boss pulled back, still panting heavily, he grabbed the back of Liquid's head, leaning closer to him and whispered something against his lips.

"Now come for me, my boy."

Fallen:

(Everyone just completely fucking loses it again.)

And with that Liquid came without even being touched.

Hawksky: Huh... ya know, I think he’s been touched plenty.

He was 'his boy' for the first time ever and it just felt so good to hear that from his father's mouth. It was just too much for him to handle any longer, and he was mumbling incoherently while he covered both of their stomachs in his white load. Dazed, Eli almost attempted to pull Big Boss down for a kiss, but immediately abandoned the insane idea when he met Big Boss's cold gaze. The moment was over as soon as it came and they were simple recruit and superior again.

Aziz: Who fuck sometimes.

Fallen: And also happen to be related.

Aziz: And are both into daddy kink.

Fallen: *giggling again*

Big Boss let his gaze slide over Liquid lying on his office table, and watched the slight squirm when he pulled out of him. His father let his hand slide through the blond hair beneath him for just the blink of an eye, before he turned away to light his obligatory cigar.

Puffing on his cigar, smoke curling in the air, he looked down at Liquid with a cold gaze. It was only then that Liquid got the hint that he was supposed to dress up again and leave the room, like he was always supposed to do. How could he even think that anything would be different now, just because Big Boss played along with his weird fantasies?

Hawksky: On the plus side, this is prime blackmail material!

Fallen: What’s he gonna do, pin “Big Boss is into DDLB” to the FOXHOUND community corkboard?

Aziz: I’m sure it’s had worse.

As Liquid left Big Boss to enjoy his cigar alone, he let a triumphant smile curve his mouth, feeling victorious for once. Who would have thought that he could catch Big Boss off guard by a simple slip of the tongue? He knew something about his father he could use now. Not as blackmail material or anything, 

Hawksky: Fool!

but at least he knew how he could get Big Boss all hot and bothered and that was everything he needed.

Some things changed after that day. Even though his father would never admit it, he couldn't deny that Liquid got called into his office more often. Big Boss didn't seem too bored with him anymore, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. And Eli could almost feel just a little bit superior,

Fallen: Now that’s just out-of-character.

Aziz: *snorts*

if his father wouldn't still have full control over him.

Yet again he got invited into Big Boss's office and Liquid slipped into the room with a big grin on his face. His father was sitting at his desk, looking through important files that needed to be checked by the boss himself.

Hawksky: You’d think he’d get that shit sorted before booty-calling his son.

"I'll be done in a minute. Prepare yourself." Big Boss mumbled without looking up to see who just came through the door. Liquid knew he shouldn't feel disappointed anymore, but he could never shake the desire of Big Boss to really look at him. He listened to him regardless and wordlessly stripped off his clothes until he was standing there, naked. Liquid stepped behind Big Boss and leaned over his shoulder to get the lube out of his desk's drawer. No reaction from his father yet.

Fallen: Do you think there’s, like, cleaning staff or something that ever wondered why the heck BB has lube in his desk drawer?

Aziz: Maybe he keeps it locked.

Fallen: BB’s dumb as bricks. The whole family is.

Aziz: Maybe the cleaning staff minds its own business?

Eli decided to try and push his luck today. He sat on the desk next to all the important files and started to work himself open, pulling his legs up to his chest for better access. He could see that his father tried to focus on the papers before him, but couldn't resist from glancing at the blond boy on his desk

Hawksky: >calling him Eli again >referring to a grown-ass man as a boy, in the narration

Yeesh. It’s like it’s trying to summon the “CGL IS LITERALLY PEDOPHILIA!!!!!” discourse.

from time to time. Eli's mission was a success so far, but now to get to the real thing. After working three of his fingers in up to the knuckle, he pulled them out again and stood up from the table. Still very cautious about his actions he carefully sat down on his father's lap, wrapping his arms around his neck.

"Daddy, I can't wait any longer."

Aziz:

he whispered into the other's ear, bucking his hips slightly, pleased to feel a bulge in Big Boss's pants already.

"Patience." his father mumbled

Aziz: I don’t think Liquid has a lot of that.

and Liquid wasn't sure who this statement was meant for. He wasn't thrown off yet, so Liquid took that as an invitation to keep going. His father just sat still, staring at the papers on his desk and clenching the pen in his right hand. He went back to writing something down while Liquid started bucking his hips. So he tried to ignore him, but Eli was prepared. He knew what to do.

Hawksky: Get the hell out of Dodge and never let anyone with an AO3 account near him again.

Fallen: It’s sad how tame this is compared to some of the stuff involving him on our AO3 account...

Hawksky: Emphasis on “anyone”.

He carefully opened the fly of Big Boss's pants and opened the zipper to free his already half-hard dick. He couldn't keep from licking his lips in anticipation, palming his father's cock to get it fully hard. Liquid could see him clenching his teeth from the corner of his eye and Liquid's face brightened up with the joy of success.

"I need your cock, daddy." Eli breathed out

Fallen:

and not even waiting for an answer, he let himself sink down on his father's dick,

Fallen: Woah, man. Consent!

spilling out a drawn-out moan right into the other's ear. Big Boss let his left hand rest on Liquid's hip, while he still insisted on keeping the pen in his right one.

Hawksky: I kind of feel bad for however would have to see this paperwork afterwards. “Hey, how come his handwriting goes all funny?”

Aziz: “And why does the paper smell like sweat and... lube?”

Fallen: ...implying that BB uses girly-ass scented lube? Or that anyone who’d be handling paperwork from FOXHOUND just kind of knows what it smells like anyway?

Aziz: Maybe BB would be the guy who uses that aggressively masculine gunpowder-scented lube.

Hawksky: After the M1911A1 scene in Snake Eater, I could honestly believe that. Big Boss is the second most likely person in the Metal Gear Solid franchise to just straight-up fuck a gun, after Ocelot.

Fallen: But that’s just a theory.......... a game theory

Oh, he would make him drop this pen soon enough. Liquid started moving his hips, quickly finding a good rhythm for both of them. He was already panting hard against Big Boss's neck when he could feel the hand on his hip dig into his skin.

"Liquid…" his father growled, his single eye still fixated on his desk. He could no longer suppress the obvious arousal in his voice.

“Yes, daddy?” Liquid purred

Hawksky:

and put an open mouthed kiss on Big Boss's neck, knowing very well that this was far more then he was allowed to do. That was the tipping point for his father. He threw his pen to the side and quickly yanked the papers away from his desk with one hand.

Fallen: Aren’t those, like, important?

Liquid got pressed on the table with the force he knew and loved from his father, faster than he would have thought was possible. His eyes went wide when he saw Big Boss stare down at him with a mix of pure arousal and anger.

Aziz: So, when does this turn into a snuff fic?

Fallen: It... doesn’t?

Aziz: Tch.

"You're being a very bad boy today, Eli." Big Boss spoke in a low voice. He gripped Liquid's throat to pin him down to the table, not that Eli would have tried to free himself anyway.

Aziz: Oh for God’s sake, don’t change it in the middle of a sentence, at least!!

"I'm sorry, I only wanted to- aaah!" He got cut short by his father thrusting into him again without mercy. He hit so deep, and with the hand still on his throat, Eli wasn't able to breathe for a couple of seconds, the air being pushed out by the last whine that came from his lips. Just when he started gasping uncontrollably, Big Boss withdrew his hand from his neck and instead pushed both of Liquid's legs up for better access.

"Oh, I don't care what you want, my boy,

Hawksky:

Aziz: I can’t believe I have to live in a world where that image exists.

Hawksky: If it makes you feel any better, it literally only took like five minutes in Photoshop, tops.

Aziz: It doesn’t, thanks.

but now you have to finish what you started." his father replied with a wicked grin on his face, picking up the pace with no regard to the boy lying under him. Liquid clenched his teeth to bear the momentary pain, but eventually started to rock his hips in rhythm, when his father started hitting that sweet spot in him over and over again. Tears that had collected in his eyes started to run down his cheeks,

Fallen: Thank you, hentai, for normalizing crying during sex. Now insecure people the world over have an excuse.

but he knew his father loved that look on him.

"Yes, I'm sorry, daddy, I'll do my best to please you! Please use me however you want."

Fallen: ...that really should not be a period.

Aziz: *as Liquid, filing nails* Ooh, mm. Harder, daddy, harder.

Liquid sputtered out between his moans and gasps for air. He was a lost case at this point.

Hawksky: Wasn’t he already?

There was nothing that mattered more than being useful to his daddy. No sense of honor or pride left in him, at least for the moment.

With his eyes rolling back in his head and his mouth hanging wide open, he tried his best to move his hips, feeling his orgasm build up. He wasn't allowed to touch himself and after so many times, Liquid wasn't able to come without his father's approval anymore. He noticed when he tried jerking off after Big Boss hadn't called him into his office for a few days. He had felt the need to come in the pit of his stomach, but he couldn't get over the edge without his father's permission.

Hawksky: What’s he gonna do when his brother lights BB the fuck up?

Aziz: Go celibate.

Fallen: Well, I bet Mantis’ll find that a much more palatable lifestyle.

He felt like he was reduced to a mere toy at his father's mercy, but he couldn't be happier.

Big Boss pushed his legs further apart and leaned down, roughly biting one of Eli's nipples which made him gasp at the sudden sensation. Liquid tried to keep his mouth closed while his father licked the sensitive skin on his chest, rolling the other nipple between his fingers. But his mouth was forced open, when his father pushed some of his fingers into it.

Aziz: Either that or the real reason why he wanted revenge on Snake was because he lost his psychological crutch for orgasms.

Fallen: I think starting a terrorist insurrection and hijacking a bunch of nukes might be a bit of an overreaction to being cut off from orgasms.

Aziz: Ahhh, spoken like a true asexual.

Fallen: ???

"I wanna hear you, my boy."

Hawksky: Hey, it’s not like this is the first time MGS has been crossed over with the LoZ CDI or anything...

Big Boss rumbled low in his throat. Keeping his hand where it was, he bit and sucked on Liquid's neck, what made a choked sound escape Eli's throat. The blond boy started moaning his daddy's name, his father's fingers still holding his mouth open so he drooled on the table beneath him.

His father's thrusts were getting faster and only moments later, he could feel his cum filling him up completely.

Aziz: Welp, that was fast.

Fallen: I guess Liquid can stick “Big Boss ejaculates prematurely” right under “Big Boss is into DDLB”.

Aziz: At that point, it’s not a community corkboard anymore. It’s a journey of discovery.

Pressing his eyes shut, he tried to focus on the sensation of being pumped full of Big Boss's seed. It was something that didn't happen very often, his father usually pulled out before he came and covered Liquid in his cum. His neglected cock was twitching painfully and he wanted nothing more than to let go.

"Daddy, please!

Aziz:

Hawksky: Wrong Snake.

Please, please…" he babbled, clenching his hands and arching his back. He couldn't last any longer and he needed permission right now. Big Boss just stared down at him, still buried deep inside and catching his breath.

"Please what?" he purred, knowing the answer full well, but not able to let Eli off the hook so easily. Of course his father had noticed Liquid's psychological problem by now. Liquid was arching off the table, clawing at his father's shoulders just to grip something, anything.

"Please, tell me I can come, daddy!

Fallen:

Open offer to any and all readers: I will literally PayPal five bucks to anyone who will do the cummies song in their best (worst) Liquid Snake impression.

Please, I need to come!" Liquid sobbed through his tears, wrapping his arms around Big Boss's neck, trying to get over the edge somehow, but he just couldn't.

"And why should I give such a bad boy permission to do so?" his father growled, holding Liquid by his jaw so he would look him in the eye. Tears were running down Liquid's face, his dick red and swollen pressed between them.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, daddy! I'll do anything you want. I'll be a good boy from now on, just let me come please."

Fallen: You could also do any of the lines from this fic in the most bored tone of voice you can muster with that exaggerated accent. I’m not paying for that, though.

Aziz: I unironically, sincerely hope you’ve just unleashed a monster, Fallen.

Eli whined, gasping for air because of his father's tight grip on him. Big Boss slowly leaned down and for a moment, Liquid's clouded mind thought he was about to kiss him, when he leaned to the side to whisper the relieving words into his ear.

"I'll look over it just this once, because you tried so hard. Now come, my boy."

Hawksky: One last CDI joke for the road. ...shit, I’ve used all of mine.

Aziz: Blew your creative load with that edit, huh?

Hawksky: Maybe we could start some discourse about how King Harkinian is an objectively better father than Big Boss.

Aziz: How? That’s 100% undeniably true.

Fallen: Especially in the context of this fic!

Hawksky: Hey, in the context of this fic, Big Boss is King Harkinian.

he whispered and that was all Liquid needed to finally get over the edge. He coated both of them in his white seed,

Fallen:

flopping back on the table as soon as the last spurt of semen left him. When his father pulled out of him, Liquid was still breathing heavily, his head spinning.

"Clean yourself up." his father mumbled, throwing an old towel at him.

Hawksky: Does he have a towel on-hand specifically for sex with his son, or does Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy just have good life advice?

Fallen: Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy is FULL of good life advice.

He did as he was told, still staring up at the ceiling, allowing himself a moment to collect his thoughts before sitting up. Big Boss had sat down on his couch, smoking his cigar like he always did. Eli couldn't wipe the grin from his face when an idea occurred to him, an idea that really had no good outcome, but he really felt like pushing his luck today.

Aziz: Didn’t we already do this like a dozen paragraphs ago?

He stood up from the table and wiped away the cum that was still dripping from between his legs, quickly throwing on his clothes before he went over to where his father was sitting. He could already see the order of "You're dismissed." on Big Boss's lips when Eli pointed at the cigar. Confused as to what Eli was trying to say, the older man looked down to the cigar in his hand and that was when Eli took his chance. He leaned down and kissed his father's cheek.

Fallen: The fact that that’s, all things considered, pretty normal just makes it really weird.

Hawksky: Welcome to socially unacceptable kinks, Fallen.

Not giving Big Boss any time to react, Eli sprinted to the door, fleeing the room. Just as he shut the door behind him, he heard a low growl deep from Big Boss's throat.

And even if he would be punished the next time Liquid would get called into his father's office, he couldn't care less.

Aziz: Well, judging by the pitiful state of the BBLiquid tag on AO3, the author never followed up on that last line.

Fallen: I’d say “shame”, but it’s really not.

Aziz: I’m always down for obscure pairings.

Hawksky: And I’m always down for making fun of them! But we’re done here, so...

Fallen: So I’d call this sporking a success!

Aziz: To be honest, I was worried we wouldn’t be able to come up with enough jokes...

Fallen: CGL’s a meme right now, we didn’t need jokes.

Aziz: Point.

Hawksky: We’re serious about the PayPal offer, by the way.

(Which brings today’s sporking to an end. There, content. Y’all happy? Yes? No? Hey, I updated, I did my part. Now to bum around for the rest of the day uselessly, and maybe play some Pokémon Sun...)