#really want to respond with a fuck ton on bitchiness and be done with this prune ass forever. his grandkids are all mitzvahed i have no

[icterid-rubus]

we have this ancient old family friend who's pretty divorced from the reality of regular people because he is Very Wealthy from local real estate and land-lording and he's convinced he can get me a job at *REDACTED* because he knows one ex-employee and my field is tangentially related. He called me to demand I send him my resume, which I did, after explaining I would be gone for several weeks on vacation. He said fine and that this could all wait until summer, but I've just opened my email to passive aggressive emails literally titled "Waiting" demanding a CV. This whole situation was prefaced of course by him degrading me for several minutes as being a "shiftless burden of a near-forty year old."

[ohbo-ohno]

love to imagine ghoap not taking reader seriously. she threatens them talking about how she will them when they're sleeping and ghost gets like :) hes so amused by her responding her in a very condescending voice something like im sure you will sweetheart and she gets so angry! calls johnny names is so mean to him calls him a mutt and that hes so annoying! rolls her eyes to everything simon says to her. they tell her to do something she always does the opposite. she's a brat and wants them to be so done with her, maybe then they will let her go.

if i were to ever write a continuation of dlmliyh (im not), this would probably be the next step for reader

she's trying to make herself as unlikable as possible. johnny thinks he wants to keep her as a pet? she's gonna prove him wrong by being just the most insufferable person you've ever met. mean, bratty, rude, annoying, everything you dislike in a person, she's embodying.

ghost knows its a phase and is able to brush it off, but after a couple days it really starts to grate on both of them. they don't want to punish her too much in these early days, but also like... oh my god. a single spanking would get her to stop being annoying. it is so difficult to resist the urge. (also they don't really want a 24/7 bdsm thing with her, there isn't a ton of concern about "respect" and they don't want to accidently teach her that

i do think that if reader got mean, johnny and ghost would get meaner.

she calls johnny names? hard for her to be mean when she's pinned beneath johnny with his tongue in her mouth. johnny is not above just shutting you up himself. he just wants cuddles, there's really no reason to be calling him a mutt. it's uncalled for tbh :/

ghost will like. just glare and sit silently until reader shuts the fuck up. usually his silence works her up more at first, and he gets some amusement out of watching her pace around in front of him, complaining and yapping at him. he likes to watch the way she gets more and more nervous even when he's not moving a muscle

she'll realize eventually that they want her, not this fake bitchy version of her <3

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

Writerly Question Tag

Back from my self-mandated social media break to respond to tags from @urnumber1star, @cowboybrunch, @fortunatetragedy and @the-golden-comet :')

About You

When did you start writing?

Damned if I know. My parents told me that I used to tell my toys stories at bedtime back when I still slept in a cradle, though (I started talking at 6months)

Are the genres/themes you enjoy reading different from the ones you write?

Very different, actually. I love reading sci-fi and almost never touch horror, but I've written tons of horror and only 1 sci-fi. Plus, I hage reading slice of life.

Is there an author (or just a fellow writer!) you want to emulate, or one to whom you’re often compared?

I'm a fan of Mark Lawrence's writing (he's super underrated), and though I'd rather not emulate someone directly, I sure wouldn't mind if someone compared me to him.

Can you tell me a little about your writing space(s)?

The walk to school, the busses and trains I take, walking my dog. Basically on the go.

What’s your most effective way to muster up some muse?

Go out and live my life. Eventually I'll see something cool and insist upon turning it into a short story.

Did the place(s) you grew up in influence the people and places you write about?

Yeah, it's basically made me physically incapable of writing anyone other than city ppl.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing, and if so, do they surprise you at all?

Err... The horrors persist but so do I is a personal favourite among my one-shots. And platonic male-female relationships is another darling of mine.

Your Characters

Would you please tell me about your current favorite character? (Current WIP, past WIP, never used, etc.)

I literally almost never talk about him, but Hans-el, the Spirit Emperor, chews my heart up and spits it out on a regular basis. I'm currently writing a short story from his pov, which I may or may not try to submit for publishing, so I guess look out for that when it happens?

Which of your characters would you be friends with in real life?

Err- I think Hash, Dave and I would be buddies. They're probably the only ones, though.

Which characters would you dislike the most if you met them?

Everyone else. Iraela would get mocked relentlessly by me, Katherine and I would but heads immediately, and I would cheerfully start a gossip war with Luna. And yeah, I would get my ass kicked in every above fight, but that's never stopped me before.

Tell me about the process of coming up with your characters?

They show up whenever the plot demands it, and then headlock me until I write more about them. Alternatively they infiltrate my dreams and haunt me.

Do you notice any reoccurring themes/traits in your characters?

I like people who destroy themselves in blazes of flaming triumph. Also headstrong bitchy women, because I am one.

How do you picture your characters?

I don't lol. My mind just doesn't do the whole 'mental image' thing. I can hear them though.

Your Writing

What’s your reason for writing?

I have nothing better to do with my life.

Is there a specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating coming from your readers?

If they like something I did with my writing (technique, phrasing, etc) and mention it, I will melt with joy.

How do you want to be thought of by those who read your work?

I just want to be heard.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

Description. I don't really do visual descs, but I love nailing voices to the wall and dissecting them.

What have you been frequently told your greatest writing strength is by others?

Description, dialogue (or internal monologue), and gore

How do you feel about your own writing?

I go through the five stages of grief with it: 'oh I'm finally done', 'i love it so much', 'hey maybe I should edit it some more to make it better', 'oh fuck it actually sucks', 'okay nevermind let's never think of it again'

If you were the last person on earth and knew your writing would never be read by another human, would you still write?

I'd be dead too quickly to write, honestly. But if I survive, fuck yeah. I'll scrawl my words across a meadow and scream it from the sky.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely what you enjoy?

Every now and then I cringe from how weird my writing is, but it always passes.

Tagging @just-emis-blog, @drchenquill, @novel-nook-blog, @thecoolerlucky, @the-letterbox-archives

@kaylinalexanderbooks, @honeybewrites, @orions-quill, @vampirelover890, @glitched-dawn and open tag!

[v3nusaphr0d1t3]

i’m so tasty and the price is right (shigadabi)

crossposted on ao3: <3 rating: explicit content warning: shameless porn, name-calling, both feminine & masculine terms used for ftm genitals, uhhhh i think thats it, hit me if i’m wrong tomura has an onlyfans and dabi helps him out for the viewers

-

tomura shigaraki, the anxiety-riddled, anger-filled, screaming child prodigy turned drop-out streamer that dabi was currently rooming with, had an onlyfans. dabi had only found this out through coincidence one night when he, for the first time, actually grabbed the mail on his way up. tomura had a bunch of perverted letters sent in from fans, all knowing him by his streamer name ‘decay’. they called him by his given name in the letters, something that shocked dabi and made it even funnier to read through.

his first instinct was to charge into tomura’s room to question him on it. and dabi wasn’t really a thinking man, so that’s what he did. he charged in with the letters in his hand, interrupting tomura’s stream as he scrambled to mute himself. 

“what the fuck do you want, dabi?” his raspy voice stuck in a permanent whine. it was honestly kinda cute sometimes. it was very easy to antagonize the poor boy, so dabi did it as often as he could get away with before tomura started threatening him. and not that dabi was scared of tomura— he could easily beat his ass at this point in time, all made up of scrawny limbs and long-term malnourishment. the only times he ate a real actual meal were when dabi reminded him and/or provided him with food. it put another pang of worry in dabi’s chest that he chose, again, to ignore.

tomura’s eyes scanned dabi, falling onto the papers in his hands with a confused expression.

“what?” tomura repeated, “what’s that shit?”

dabi’s grin was maniacal. 

“nothing, nothing,” dabi moved them behind his back, “only your creepy fan letters. from your fans.” there was a beat of silence before tomura’s face heated up and he stomped over, trying his hardest to grab at the letters dabi held.

“dude, why didn’t you tell me you were a pornstar? that’s like—” his laughing was cut off with a cough as he held the papers above their heads, shaking them to taunt tomura even more. tomura eventually jumped and snatched them out of dabi’s hands, shoving them in his trash can and going to sit back in his chair. he paused his stream as dabi caught his breath.

tomura took a deep (slightly crackly) breath, and started a practiced monologue, “i’m not a pornstar, i just hold… extra liveshows later on for more cash because streaming doesn’t exactly pay the best and for certain legal reasons i can’t really get a good job. so i basically just…” he sighed and winced a bit, “i record myself jacking off?” his sentence ended in more of an uncertain question than a statement, almost as if he was scared. “i don’t do it when you’re home, or at least i try not to, and i don’t bug you with it, so i don’t see why it would matter—” 

his rambling was cut off as tomura looked up to see dabi suddenly being a lot closer than he remembered.

“that’s fuckin’ hot, no apologies needed.” dabi’s voice was lower than usual, setting tomura’s face even further on fire, lighting up red as he covered his face.

“what the hell, freakshow, you can’t just say shit like that—” tomura said, muffled through his hands.

“but i can, and i will. you know i’m a pretty honest man, creep.” dabi chuckled. “now are you gonna let me fuck you up on your little stream or what?” he leaned down to be level with tomura who was still sat in his chair. 

there was only silence from tomura’s end.

“c’mon, won’t another dude be good for business? i promise i’ll take good care of you.” dabi got even closer with these words, trapping tomura in with his hands on the elbow rests, mouthing filthy promises in his ear.

“okay. we can take turns blowin’ each other.” tomura grumbled, pushing at dabi’s shoulders to move him from his position over him. “but i gotta finish off this stream first, i’ll come get you when it’s time. get cleaned up and shit, i won’t suck you off if you’re gross.” tomura didn’t look him in the eyes, putting his headphones back on and officially ending the conversation as he got back to whatever murder game he was playing with an apology for being gone.

dabi stalked off to the bathroom, burying his intense excitement and arousal deep in his gut and turning on the shower. he got pretty much everything, cleaner than he had been in weeks as a gross dude with an illegal gig barely classified as a job. he always did wonder how tomura was able to pay so much of the bills, but he didn’t want to bring it up and sound bitchy. he was half hard just from the thought, tomura always being the grumpy catch he was always afraid to go for, for fear that he would get kicked out of the apartment the morning after or something along those lines.

the stunt he had just pulled was exhilarating. he thought about the flush he had seen on tomura’s face as he stepped out of the shower. he was still at half mast as he brushed his teeth and put on deodorant (stealing tomuras’), towel wrapped around his waist. dabi had always thought himself to be a kind of a catch, positively covered in tattoos and piercings and even some cosmetic staples. his brother said he was addicted to body mods, bu he chose to ignore those words in favor of finding something else to do to or with his body. 

he wondered what he should wear. he didn’t want to struggle with it too much, just going for what he had on before the shower. he shook his hair out like a dog, water slightly darkened from the hair dye (he had just redyed it a couple days ago and he never truly had the care to wash it all the way out).

and when he was done with all that, he went into his room and collapsed on his bed facedown. there he stayed for a few moments as he tried to calm himself down, before just turned to his bong on the side table for some manual chill. he lit up a few times, only enough to make his head swim the tiniest bit, and went to play a few shitty games on his phone.

apparently he had been playing a little longer than he thought, already gone through a cigarette and another couple rips before tomura knocked on his door.

“ready to start up the live stream, get your ass in here if you still want in on it.” he heard through the door, followed by tomura’s footsteps leading off into his bedroom.

dabi, of course, immediately followed, hopping up and throwing his door open, excitedly shimmying his way up to tomura’s doorway. 

man

he was. he was wearing black thigh-highs, held up by a garter that he could barely see the beginnings of over a sweatshirt that was giant on his small, skinny frame. dabi’s sweatshirt.

“did—” dabi was damn near short of breath at the sigh ton display in front of him, “did you get that from my room?” 

“no, i got it from the living room. now let me get the camera on and the stream rolling before you fuck me up.” tomura chuckled softly, something that he didn’t do often. dab’s heart skipped a beat, and he pointedly chose to ignore it.

“you look fuckin’ hot, baby.” he murmured, eyes glued to the sligh bit of thigh on display over the top of the sock and before the sweatshirt.

“baby? what happened to creep?” tomura pressed record, laptop set up next to the camera so that they could see themselves and the chat, not giving dabi a chance to respond. tomura waited a few moments, before addressing the current pileup.

“hey everyone. i have a guest tonight, my roommate and the dude who eats all my damn cereal—” tomura paused and turned back to look at dabi who was still out of camera, “do you want your identity to be anonymous? ‘n’ do you wanna show your face?” 

dabi had a moment of pause, before shrugging. “nah, i don’t really have any shame, you’re not really anything to hide.” dabi once again shamelessly looked tomura up and down, earning an eyeroll and the beginnings of… was that a smile?

tomura turned back to the camera. “this is dabi, my roommate, and the dude who’s gonna eat me out on stream.” tomura said with no pause, and no stutter or hesitation. this was a performance, surely. it was so different from the blushing and hiding man who was avoiding his eyes a couple hours ago. tomura cupped his hand around the side of his mouth, mimicking a stage whisper. “this’ll be the first time with him, so you get our genuine reactions for free.” tomura chucked gently, watching the chat blow up at the premise of some genuine roommate porn.

tomura turned back to dabi, moving to pull him into frame and pushing him to sit on tomura’s bed.

“well, here goes nothing,” tomura murmured to himself, climbing into dabi’s lap and pulling him into a kiss. he immediately heard the dinging of tip notifications off to his side, and he knew his chat was probably going wild. dabi’s hands wandered, up tomura’s thighs that were positioned over his hips, and over the other mans own hips, back down to his thigh-highs. he pulled at them, snapping it against tomura’s thigh, earning a gasp that allotted enough room for dabi to stick his tongue in the others mouth. tomura’s own arms were slung over dabi’s shoulders coming up to run his hands through dabi’s undercut. tomura ground down against dabi’s half-hard cock, trying to work him up further. 

eventually their kiss broke for air and dabi stared into the camera with a knowing grin as he ground his hips upwards. tomura gasped loudly, sensitivity intensified by the hormones he had been taking for a while now. dabi moved to kiss down the white-haired boy’s throat, leaving little nips that had tomura giving breathy whines. he could tell some were played up for the camera, but he didn’t mind at all. he was rock hard in his jeans now, and he could feel the slickness that tomura had built up— soaking through his panties. which, by the way— now that dabi could see them, he was obsessed. they were bright blue and lacey, gorgeous against the pale flush of tomura’s scarred thighs. they hugged his hips nicely and made dabi want to rip them apart. 

tomura gently pushed him away from his neck, rolling his hips against dabi as he leaned back slightly to look at the camera. “chat, who should go first? who do you wanna see cum first?” his words were syrupy and seductive as their hips worked in tandem. someone donated with a fairly large amount, spouting something about wanting to see the pretty boy choke on cock.

and who were they to deny the nice donator?

tomura turned back to dabi, running a hand down the man’s chest, grabbing at the end of his shirt. dabi got the hint and removed his shirt, hearing the chat pop off for a moment.  “your lucky day, freakshow. fuck me up.” tomura whispered and he hopped off dabi’s lap, spreading dabi’s legs manually and making himself comfortable between them.

“feel free to grab the camera to get that angle, yknow?” tomura looked up at him as he laid his cheek on dabi’s thigh, uncomfortable close to the bulge in dabi’s pants.

dabi leaned back on his hands, letting tomura unbutton his pants and shimmy his boxers down enough to pull his cock out. tomura had a moment of shock at the sight of it, long and thick with about 5 pieces of fuckin’ metal stuck into it. 

when his shock wore off, he decided a quip would be appropriate. “y’know i always did wonder if it continued on down—” tomura gestured to all of his various facial and body piercings, finally licking a stripe up his length and taking dabi by surprise, making him gasp. tomura was surprisingly good at this, dabi had thought him a lame little virgin before he found out about the whole onlyfans thing. but no, tomura had apparently had quite a bit of practice, shown off by the rapid rate at which he was able to adjust to the intrusion of dabi’s cock, sinking down and feeling the metal rods on the underside grind one by one against his tongue. it was heaven, and dabi reached one hand into tomura’s hair for support.

this led tomura to pull off, only to say the words, “pull on it,” before sinking his hot mouth back down onto dabi’s dick. and so dabi did what he was told, taking the hair in his hands and pulling, earning a genuine moan from tomura that reverberated its way down his cock. the hottest thing was that tomura was making him feel this good with only his mouth. his hands were currently on dabi’s thighs, moving up to his hips as if to insinuate something. dabi pulled him back by his hair. tomura whined, which was the hottest thing ever and looked up at dabi with a wanting— no, expecting stare. 

“use your words, babydoll.” he muttered to tomura, watching his face heat up, much more like his bashful self before the camera turned on. the audience was eating it up, so used to his unphased confidence and sheer no-fucks-given attitude, that seeing this form of subby shigaraki was like dessert for them.

“use me, dabi,” tomura muttered, eyes focused on the ground as he shuffled on his knees.

“what was that? i couldn’t hear you, speak up.” dabi teased and used his hand that was in tomura’s hair to slip down and hook his finger under his chin, forcing him to look up at dabi.

tomura’s eyes glazed over for a second at the stern look that dabi was giving him, before blinking harshly and shaking his head a bit, as if to clear his mind.

“fuck my throat, dabi. use me.” his voice was clear and without any shyness now, an almost grin spreading across his cheeks. though his inner submission didn’t go unseen, as the look in his eye and the redness of his face and the way he arched his back even now, was more honest than any words he could say. 

“if you say so, baby. tap me if you want off.” dabi moved his hand back to tomura’s hair, gripping it tight and using it to line himself up with tomura’s lips.

“open up. you’re gonna be so good at this, i can just tell.” dabi growled out. tomura followed directions, opening his mouth and sticking his tongue out to show up, dabi sliding his cock to the back of the other man’s throat. he stopped for a moment to let tomura adjust, but tomura took that to his advantage, meeting dabi’s eyes and sucking hard.

“jesus fuck, baby—” dabi panted, starting up a smooth rhythm with his hips, both hands now in tomura’s hair to practically use him like a toy. a human fleshlight.

“god, tomura, you whore— how’dya get so good at this? d’ya— d’ya practice?” dabi’s hips sped up as tomura moaned deep in his throat, vibrating against his cock. the words were turning tomura’s poor brain into jello. the chat was going wild, donations at an all time high as they watched their favorite creator get used like a toy. 

dabi felt the tension building up in his gut. a few more moments of this and he would be done for. he reached down with one of the hands to wrap around tomura’s throat, so that he couldn’t even semi-breathe through his nose. he felt tomura gag, throat clamping down on his cock. tomura had yet to tap him, so he continued with his wild ministrations, letting go of tomura and pulling his dick out until just the tip rested on tomura’s tongue as he worked himself off the final edge and came, coating tomura’s lips and tongue.

“don’t swallow yet.” dabi’s tone was winded yet still authoritative. “show your audience baby, you did amazing. show them how good of a slut you are.” dabi grabbed tomura’s chin and manually turned the boy’s head to the camera, watching with hungry eyes as he showed off the spend on his tongue. 

“okay, now swallow.” dabi ordered, watching as tomura did it easily. dabi knew at that instant that he had sent tomura into a momentary headspace of sorts. he wanted to treat the boy after using him so roughly, so he helped him up and out of the sweatshirt, splayed out on the bed, hair spread out around his head like a halo. he looked like a proper angel as the blurriness finally worked its way out of those eyes and the real tomura came back on line.

“jesus christ, dabi.” tomura grumbled. his pale face was on fire. dabi thought that was the hottest thing he had ever experienced. 

dabi was lowering himself onto his knees, pulling tomura’s hips to hang off the bed, spreading them so that he could lay lovebites along his inner thighs. it was almost agonizing with how long he carried it out, working numerous dark purple hickeys onto his thighs, as if to claim, and to show off. he knew that if tomura did a show in the next few days, they would be visible, and that made him hot under the collar.

“god, freakshow, get on with it!” tomura whined, trying to arch up onto something, but failing as a result of dabi’s iron grip on his thighs. 

“ah, ah ah— what do we say when we want something, babydoll?” dabi’s low voice made goosebumps rise up on tomura’s skin, and the poor boy nearly gave in and started begging right there. dabi stopped pressing kisses to tomura’s thighs, sitting back holding tomura’s legs apart, waiting on his reply.

“i need an answer, creep.” the familiar nickname from the man between his legs made it more… intimate. tomura swallowed his pride.

“please— please dabi, please suck me off, i need it—” he was rewarded with dabi ripping his panties off, exposing his nether regions to the open air. tomura whined at the cold, feeling it against his wet cunt. but soon the feeling of cold air was replaced with a soft, excellent warm suction on his dick, one of dabi’s hands reaching up to run two fingers along his slit. 

it made tomura nearly scream, instead moving one of his hands to cover his mouth. dabi instantly let up on the attention, reaching up to move tomura’s hand. “you gotta put on a show tomura, remember that.” dabi chuckled before he went back to work, moving his lips down to run his tongue against tomura’s hole. tomura was arching his back and more or less grinding against dabi’s face as he moaned loudly. dabi knew his way around eating out, so it wouldn’t be long for the other man, who had already been so wound up for so long. dabi went back to sucking on his clit and he moved his two fingers to enter, making an awful noise when they did. tomura’s wetness rolled down dabi’s wrist and before long, tomura’s legs were shaking as dabi brought him to the edge. 

now, dabi was a little shit by nature. so he doubled, even tripled his efforts in speed and pressure, rocketing tomura over the edge and working his fingers in and out at such a speed that had tomura writhing against the sheets in oversensitivity. 

and dabi kept going. he was on a mission, and soon enough, his efforts were rewarded when tomura soaked the sheets and dabi’s arm and lower face. dabi worked him through it, milking him of every drop, before he finally let up. tomura lay there practically braindead for a bit, dabi even going so far as to wave at the camera as he stroked tomura’s thighs, waiting for him to be coherent enough for dabi to leave for a second to get a towel. 

once he had come back to the land of the living, tomura ended the stream with a quick thank you to the donators and visitors, while dabi was up getting a towel, and tomura had caught his breath by the time dabi was back with towels and water. dabi wiped his face, arms and upper torso off, and tomura wiped his junk down, throwing the towel somewhere on the floor. 

“my junk hurts, you asshole. god— why are you so good at that?” were the first words out fo tomura’s mouth, eliciting a loud laugh from dabi as he opened the window and pulled out a cigarette.

“get me one too, freakshow. i need it after that. my dono’s are through the fuckin’ roof though, so thanks for our rent.” he spoke quietly against the sounds of the city as dabi lit his cigarette and tossed one and his lighter to tomura.

dabi only gave him a devilish smirk.

“you gonna let me do that again?”

[demolition-lovers-blog]

Twitter part 2

Y/N went back to her busy day not really giving a whole lot of thought about "Harry Styles". I mean she realized he was a huge star, she didn't live under a rock but she just wasn't into that scene, honestly she never was. So when she turned her phone back on when she left class she was amazed her Twitter was blowing up all kinds of people were following her. She had a ton of DM's she was going to delete them all but then thought better of it knowing some could actually be her friends. So she decided to wait till she got home to go thru them some.

As she was almost at her car a group of girls from nursing school came up and started asking her all about her relationship with Harry. Y/N was taken back she tried to explain that there was no relationship between her and Harry Styles. Finally pushing thru these girls to her car Y/N sighed what had she done to cause all this . It was an innocent funny Tweet no harm so what Harry responded, who the fuck cares!! Irritated she drove home thinking of what to do, she didn't want this kind of attention.

Harry was curious to see if Y/n had responded to him,so first thing he did when he got home was go on Twitter to check his DM's. Harry almost felt like a kicked puppy he knows he looks like one realized she hadn't even opened his message. He had to not think to much into it cause he knows when he is super busy that his messages go unchecked for days. She is a nursing student and a bartender so she must be pretty busy. Harry decides he will go to her account for a minute and see what she's up to. His mouth drops,his heart sinks a little when he sees the followers she suddenly has and the tweets she is getting some are nice and cute,but others are those nasty ones that have sent more then one girl running from him in the past 10 years.

Y/n finally had a minute to sit down and go thru her messages. She sighed going thru them and some just said SLUT in all caps, others she stopped reading 2 words in cause well let's just say there was no need to go any further. Then she saw it the was a message from Harry Styles, she checked it was his, then she opened it.

@Harry Styles: Hi Y/n, I really hope you don't mind that I'm sending you this message. Please don't feel as if you have to respond if you don't want to,but I found you should I say interesting?? Lol I would love to know what else you have read cause I'm not sure I have the nerve to read it myself. Hell maybe I should read it, it might step up my game. Well, I'm sorry if your getting hate seems to come with any girl, friend or something else and I fuckin sucks honestly, people get scared away before we even go out on a date. You look like a girl up for adventure and if you think you could handle some bullshit from bitchy fans ...fuck im assuming. I would like to take you out if you are interested. I would love to get to know you. Take you out on a proper date,or even just hang out and get to know each other. I really look forward and hope to here from you. X H

@y/n: Harry, definitely surprised to hear from you. Yes I have gotten hate but I'm not actually really concerned it's just people with to much time and no life of their own. I guess I'm down to hang out. I wish I could say something like " Omg my inner fangirl is screaming!" But sadly I can't lol. Just because I'm not doesn't mean I'm not up to meeting new an interesting people and should I even say and Hot ex-boybanders haha. Here's my number I look forward to hearing from you Mr. Styles..... Y/n😈

You were really kinda hoping he calls in one way, but, in the other not sure what kind of damage this would bring to her normal everyday life. You think on it and always one to never let anyone tell her what to do. He is a nice guy, good-looking,and if he calls and askes her out well then, your gonna go. After that she went on putting her social media on private cause she didn't need to deal with hate, it won't stop it but it will not be in my face all day,I hope.

Harry was pleased when he read y/n message. He then had an idea he didn't call her, nope had a better idea she was a bartender and it's a Friday night so 99% chance that she is working. So with that Harry decides he is going to the bar tonight to spend time with a pretty bartender who caught his eye.

The bar was super busy, as usual for a Friday night. Y/n bartends on the the east side of the bar an like always her bar was packed. She was a favorite of guys and girls alike. Besides her looks she had a great personality and was really funny and the customers would get there early to get a spot at her bar.

Harry walks in the packed bar. He got some looks of course and a lot of second takes. Peoples mouths were open is that really Harry Styles...Harry smiles slightly not wanting to draw to much attention to himself. He spots Y/n behind the bar an makes his way over. Y/n doesn't recognize him when he first walks up to the bar(she wasn't a huge fan so she didn't know what he exactly looked liked.) But when she hears Hello Love, can I get a whiskey sour?" "Harry?" "That's me I hope u don't mind me showing up to see you at your job. I just really wanted to see you." "Oh, no problem at all I'm pleasantly surprised you came to see me, I'll get u a car so u an sit down and spend the night hanging out and talking."

[cruecifymesixx]

Love and Leather /part twenty two/

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: I have nothing to say for this one? Kinda soft Nikki? but not really cause he’s a shithead. Also Vanity kinda being more open? Since she’s very closed off??  Enjoy! Let me know what you think :)

Warnings: just language, some drug talk

Taglist: @brideofdraculana, @xstarryeyes, @aryssav, @miserablecunt, @electradestiny, @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol, @inthebackofmycarlaytheirbodies, @fandomshit6000, @anntheboneless, @tiranni, @venus-calum, @justjodeye, @supernaturalvikingwhore, @are-we-real, @hi-my-name-is-riley, @extremesadnerding, @thatbandchick39, @awkwrdcait, @countrygirlswonderland, @dillightfulpickle, @baiabouk, @awesomealmostdopestudent, @madsthegroupie, @martabastic, @romanticvengeance, @tashy-bear, @krazykatkay456, @terror-triplet, @shouttatthedevill, @beachystars, @rodriguez025, @kickstart-myheart-sixx, @s-outhie, @anxious-diabetic, @awkwardblackgirls, @motlycrue, @brooklyn-antiques, @shamelessobsessions, @jerseytaint, @lilytalebi, @criminalyetminimal, @motley-queen, @trapt-in-a-dream, @lunamadhatter99, @broke-n-bitchy, @thanks2pete, @slowandangry, @lovesick-heart0, @keepcalm-and-beyou, @miriampraez, @teenwolflover28, @lilyhw1, @swoopygorl, @motherloovebone, @random-internet-user-4471, @yxzzie420, @falcon-arrows, @talranocchia2001, @wheresmyvodkabitch

February ‘85

“You need to take a shower Van, you look gross...and you need to put some medicine on that eye.” I glared up at Tonya, who was standing over me with her her hands on her hips.

“I’m fine.” I lied. Of course I lied, no one understands how depressed and withdrawn I am. “Get up and take a shower. Now!” She yelled, ripping the blanket off of me, “Damnit Tonya! Leave me alone!” I yelled, getting off the couch and grabbing the blanket back, but to no avail as she quickly took it away again.

“No! I’m not letting you sit around here and mope! You have work tonight, you need to get cleaned up.” She said, as I plopped back down on the couch, “Do you wanna talk about it?” She asked me, causing me to shoot another glare at her. “Alright fine. We don’t have to talk, but please take a shower, eat something too. I haven’t seen you eat anything since yesterday morning.” She said and I sighed, contemplating if I should tell her to fuck off and let me be. Interrupting my train of thought, the doorbell rang. I took it as my way to get out of the confrontation.

“I’ll get it.” I told her as I walked through the hall and to the front door & opening it, then quickly slamming it again.

Nikki was on the other side, “Doll, just hear me out, please!” I leaned against the door and faced Tonya, “Get him out of here, now.” I grumbled, walking away from the door, Tonya quickly replacing my spot in front of the white door, quickly opening it.

“Come on in Sixx!” Tonya said cheerfully making me stop dead in my tracks. “Maybe you can talk some sense into her cause she’s being a bitch!” Tonya shouted, “Yeah, what the fuck ever, Ton.” I spat back at her.

I noticed Nikki was holding a bouquet of red roses in his hands, “Why the fuck do you have those?” I asked him, his lips curling into a small smile. “They’re for you, doll.” He moved his hand forward, trying to hand them to me. His smile falters as I don’t move a muscle. “I thought they would make you feel better.” He added on, I smirked and rolled my eyes.

“Make me feel better? Or make you feel better for being an asshole?” I questioned him, I noticed his eyes squint as he watched me. I already knew I was testing his patience.

“I’ll take those.” Tonya said, taking them to the kitchen to probably put them in a vase. “You look like shit.” Nikki commented on my appearance, plopping down on the couch.

“So do you. When was the last time you slept?” I questioned him, “I’m fine.” I rolled my eyes and sat down next to him.

He placed his hand on my thigh, as his finger started drawing shapes on my skin. “I’m sorry doll. I’m sorry he did this to you.” He said, placing his free hand under my chin, examining my face.

My lip was almost healed, purple shades no longer prominent unless someone was up close. But my eye, I can’t get the swelling to go down. I’m pretty sure something is broken underneath, or at the least fractured.

“Why would he even do this to you?” Nikki asked, a look of frustration on his face. I pulled away from his touch.

“It’s something he’s always done! He’s a literal walking piece of shit, Nikki!” I shouted back at him, pulling my knees to my chest as I rested against the arm of the couch facing him.

“He’s done this before?!” Nikki shouted back at me, “and you just let him come back into your life! What the fuck Van! How could you be so dumb! Why didn’t you tell me from the beginning!?” Nikki argued a much valid point.

I shrugged, “I just wanted to help you.” I respond quietly, “I didn’t want anything to happen to the band.” He sighed, taking my hand into his and gently brushing his thumb against it.

“I know you wanted to help, but I also told you not to get involved.” He reminded me, and I nodded

“I just wanted to help, I didn’t know it would lead to all of this.” I painfully mumbled, wiping my tears with the sleeve of my sweatshirt.

“What did he even do to you?” He asked, his finger gently rubbing against my cheek, “Now? Or then?” I asked him, “All of it, I want to know now. I’m tired of you hiding things from me.” He demanded.

“He just, i don’t know...we were in love and then the next thing I know I had picture frames thrown at my head and a fist in my face.” I sighed, running my fingers through my oily, unbrushed hair.

“I don’t know why he changed or why he started, but he just did. It would start with small arguments, like I forgot to pick up his dry cleaning or I forgot to pair his dinner with his favorite whiskey. Just tiny insignificant shit like that.” Nikki nods, still in shock. “Well why did you get engaged to him?” I shrugged, “It was before all of that, but it’s strange when he proposed. I just had a gut feeling I shouldn’t say yes, but I did anyways cause I loved him. At the time he was the only guy I’ve ever been with and wanted to be with.” I told him, but he just shook his head in disagreement.

“And then his first major blow up, he punched the wall and threw a bottle of Jack near my head. It shattered behind me, and then after that I mouthed off to him and he smacked me across the face and split my lip open.” I let out a sad laugh at my own misfortune and naivety.

“We had a party to go to for Daddy that weekend, and I had to explain to a whole bunch of rich snobby housewives what happened to my face cause make up still wasn’t enough to cover up the bruising.”

“Why would you stay with him? You really bought his whole ‘I won’t do it again’ monologue?” Nikki questioned, I shrugged yet again.

“I have a soft spot in my heart for egomaniac assholes, that’s why you’re still here.” I joked with him, but he didn’t find it funny as I got an eye roll in return.

“And then uh, what else...oh, he broke my nose by shoving me face first into the wooden stairs of our home because I turned my back to him to walk away cause he was drunk. The bleeding wouldn’t stop afterwards, so he took me to the hospital, and I had to lie in front of the nurses and the doctors as he held my hand so fucking tight. I swore he was gonna break it too.” Nikki looked like he was thinking.

“Is that why your breathing is all fucked up when you sleep? Cause man you sound like you’re fucking suffocating, it’s annoying.” He said, laughing which made me smile, “I had no idea, do I snore too?” I asked him, he shook his head.

“Only when I slipped you smack, you were out like a fucking light, but no, you don’t really snore that much.” I nodded, finding it cute that he payed attention to a minuscule detail like that.

“The only time he let go of my hand that night is when they reset my nose cause I squeezed his hand so hard it turned white.” I said with a giggle.

“And then....” I sighed, “I don’t remember much cause I passed out...I, Uh...god damnit.” I started feeling myself getting choked up, as my voice cracked.

“Just breathe, doll..” Nikki said as he scooted closer and gripped my arm, pulling me to lean into his side as he wrapped an arm around me.

“I was sleeping and he came home drunk, I’ve never seen him drunk like that. He woke me up by ripping the blankets off of me and told me to get the fuck up. He then started going on this tangent that I was cheating on him. I never cheated on him ever, I was faithful to him, I-I did everything for him.” I cleared my throat, and looked up at Nikki.

“He was a hunter, or still is, I don’t know. But he had a knife collection that was in our room on the wall and he grabbed one out of the case and started waving it around the air and around my face.” I watched as Nikki’s eyes widened.

“So I tried leaving, I told him I was gonna go to my parents house for the night, but he wasn’t letting me. He was saying ‘oh you’re just saying that, you’re just gonna go fuck that guy right?’ And ‘you’re not ever leaving me, if I can’t have you no one can’ and so on.”

I paused for a moment, “And then he literally started chasing me around the house, and our house was pretty big. I was in my underwear trying to get out of the house but all the fucking doors were locked and it was done with a code, and I couldn’t remember the code because he always did it before we went to bed.”

“Did he fucking stab you?” Nikki shouted, throwing his arm off of me and standing up. I sighed and stood up with him. I turned my back to him and pulled up my shirt.

“He almost severed my spine, mere inches from it, I had to go through four hours of surgery.” I explained while pulling my shirt back down.

“I’ve looked at that scar every single time. Every time I’ve seen you naked or getting dressed, wondering how you got it, and that fucking prick did it, I’m gonna fucking kill him.” Nikki said, walking over to my landline.

“What are you doing?” I asked, following him, “I’m calling Doc, and asking where the fuck this fucker is staying.” Nikki retorted, punching in numbers, but I quickly grabbed the phone and hung it back up on receiver.

“You’re not doing anything! Tommy was right, I’ve been through enough with him, I don’t need anymore shit to happen, please?” I batted my eyelashes at him, making him groan. He examined the fear in my eyes, his body relaxing after a moment.

“Fine, but next time I see him...I’m going to fuck him up.” Nikki growled, I nodded in agreement.

“Now, stop being emotional, stop sitting around and go take a shower. And be nice to your fucking roommates, they’re just trying to be there for you.” He ordered, and I rolled my eyes.

“Fine.” I said, forcing myself off the couch but I felt him follow me up the stairs, “Where do you think you’re going?” I asked him, as we walked into my room.

“I thought you’d want some company....” He trailed off, giving me an award winning smile that made my stomach do summersaults, but I wasn’t about to let him off that easily.

“Oh no, you fucked up, you laughed when you saw my face...plus you’ve been a huge dick lately.” I told him, he seemed rather surprised.

“I said I was sorry.” He shrugged and sat down on my bed, “Do you even know what that word means, Nikki? You seem to say it a lot but you keep repeating your actions.” I retorted.

“What were you even on last weekend? I’ve never seen you that fucked up before.” I asked mildly concerned.

He sighed, looking at everything but me. “It was just coke, I wasn’t feeling well either.” He was quiet, I knew he was hoping I would buy into his lie. I knew he was lying as he shifted uncomfortably and twiddled with his thumbs.

“Okay.” I stated, then walked into the bathroom and took a shower.

Nikki’s POV

I groaned, laying back onto her bed the moment she closed the door, letting out a puff of air i’ve been holding in. The seconds felt like hours when she asked me. I can’t stand the look on her face when she knows I’m lying to her.

I’m trying to wean myself off the junk, so far so good. But anytime my dealer calls or stops by my house, I always cave to my craving for the high.

I just don’t want to worry her, the boys know I’ve found a new liking in heroin, but it’s Vanity that pops into my head when I get high...I knew she would flip out if she ever found out what I was up too, and probably leave.

The coke, the booze, the pot and acid, they don’t do anything for me anymore. They’re all just love affairs...but heroin, I’m absolutely in love with her, she makes it so hard for me to leave her.

Maybe I should give my dealer a call. And then maybe I should get some food for Vanity, I know she likes Chinese.

I left her room, walking down the stairs and peering over the banister to see if Tonya was around, but luckily she wasn’t.

I picked up the phone and called my dealer.

“Hey, man...it’s Nikki. Could you make a house call?” I asked, waiting for his answer of how much I’d want. “Uh, same as last time..just a few eight balls...could you also stop and get some Chinese food? My girl is hungry.” He started yelling about how he had to go out of his way.

“I’m about to give you my fucking money, just fucking do this one thing for me, alright?” I growled quietly, he finally gave in. What a fucking asshole. I’m practically giving him and his bitch the lifestyle they want with my money.

I gave him Vanitys address, “Yeah man, thanks see you in a little bit.” I hung up the phone, “Who was that?” I practically jumped out of my boots, turning around to see a dripping wet Vanity in a towel.

“I Uh, I ordered some food for us.” I told her, “Oh, well thanks.” She said, walking past me to the washer and dryer and pulling out clothes.

“Did you hear that phone call?” I asked, scared that she may have heard me. “No? God you’re fucking weird.” She replied, I noticed she had bruises on her arms from that fucking punk. Her eyes meeting mine, her face slightly dropping as she follows where mine are looking. She quickly turns around, putting an oversized shirt on and dropping the towel.

“Did it happen after I left?” I asked her, she nodded without turning around, “Yeah, he was kissing me and grabbed my tits, but I pushed him off of me and that’s when he lost his cool.” She explained,

“He fucking kissed you?” I spat at her angrily. I was more pissed that this stupid prick put his fucking lips on her, but that should’ve been the least of my worries. The thought of another man touching her the way I do, is just enough anger to set me off.

She didn’t say anything in return. “What did you order?” She asked me, “Huh?” I was confused, thinking only of him forcing himself on her, “The food Nikki..what did you get?” She reminded me, “Oh...uh some Chinese food.” I told her, she just nodded.

“Do you want some blow?” I asked, not really knowing how to make her feel better. “I’m fine.” She said with no emotion as she plopped back down on the couch, blankly staring at the tv.

“Well, What can I do to make you better?” I asked, awkwardly sitting down next to her, still getting no response from her. “Hello? Anyone home?” I said waving my hand in front of her face, but even that didn’t get a response.

The silence was deafening to me, I couldn’t stand it. I hated that she wasn’t her usual bubbly, down to earth self. Maybe I could fuck this attitude out of her?

“Let’s go upstairs..” I said placing a kiss on the side of her head, “before the food gets here.” I whispered in her ear, trailing my mouth down to her neck, giving her a kiss. But still, she wasn’t budging.

“I wanna hear those pretty noises that come out of you.” I said, putting my hand on her bare thigh and slowly creeping my fingers up, but she stopped me, “No.” I sighed and moved away from her, pouting like an upset child.

I really needed my guy to hurry up and fucking get here.

“Oh good, you showered!” Tonya chirped as she came down the stairs, “Yeah, so leave me alone.” Vanity snapped at her, “Quit being a brat, should I tell Francisco you’re not coming to work again?” Tonya asked, probably getting ready to leave since she was in her work uniform, “I’ll be there tomorrow.” Vanity replied. Tonya stood there with her hands on her hip, almost like a disapproving mother.

“What? I’ll go tomorrow! My face is still fucked up I’m not leaving this house until it’s better, I look ugly.” Vanity said, “Shut up, you look beautiful as always.” I butted in, receiving a small smile from her, as she put her hand on the side of my face, “Thank you.” She said, then there was a knock on the door.

“I got it.” Tonya said, and I quickly jumped up, pushing past her, “I got it!” I shouted while quickly opening the door.

“Oh hey man...here’s the junk...and the food.” My dealer spoke, but I sent him a death glare, “Shut up.” I said as I frantically searched my pants and jacket for my wallet, only feeling empty pockets.

“Fuck, I don’t know where my wallet is. I think I left it at home.” I told him, “How much is it?” Vanity asked, popping up behind me, “What?” My dealer, Jason spoke up, “The food? How much is it...I got it Sixx.” She said, giving me a smile, “Okay.” Was all I could choke out, my heart felt as if it was gonna burst out of my chest.

“Oh right, twenty even.” Jason responded. A wave of relief rushing over me as he played along Vanity handed him the bill and then took the bag, “Thanks.” She said and walked away,

“Come by my place later...where is it?” I asked him, “Its in the bag with the food.” My eyes almost popped out of my head. I quickly slammed the door in his face. I walked in to the kitchen and the bag of food was right next to her as she was going through it.

“He was weird.” Vanity said as she turned around holding a container of chow mein, stuffing her face, “Hey don’t eat it all, I gotta eat too.” I said, grabbing the bag from the counter and taking it to the living room.

I went through the bag, and found my baggie of a few eight balls. I sighed in relief, knowing it would hold me over for a few days, I quickly shoved them into my pocket.

“Actually Doll, you can eat...I’m gonna head out.” I told her while standing up and facing her.

“Oh...will you come back?” She asked, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Probably not...we’re working on a new album for when Vince gets out...I’m calling it Theater of Pain.” I told her, but I just wanted to get home and slam a needle into my arm.

“Okay, well thanks for coming over. And thank you for the flowers...they’re nice.” She said, touching the petals of a rose.

“You’re welcome, Princess. I’m glad you liked them...I’ll see you in a few days.” I told her as I grabbed her hand, placing it behind my neck. She nodded, taking another bite of the food.

I gave her a kiss on the forehead, but then she pointed at her lips. I groaned, “Not after you’re eating all that.” I joked, making her roll her eyes.

“You taste like whiskey and cigarettes all the time, yet I don’t complain.” She had a valid point. “Alright, fair enough.” I said then placed a kiss on her lips. Her lips made me want to stay for more but I needed to get back to my house.

“Stay with me.” She said into the kiss, I sighed and pulled away from her. “He’s still in jail, it can wait.” She added on while attaching her lips onto mine.

“I gotta go Vanity, I’m sorry.” I broke the kiss once more causing a dissatisfied moan to come from her. “I just...I gotta work.” I said, as she finally nodded in understandment, “Okay, I’ll see you later.” She replied, I gave her a kiss on the cheek before walking out the door, fumbling with the baggie of heroin that was in my jacket pocket.

[princess--catherine]

Maybe y’all will hate me for this, I’m all for women’s rights and the Me Too movement but has it maybe taken a turn it shouldn’t have? I can already feel the hatred

Just in the past couple weeks I’ve seen at least 3 “predators/rapists exposed”, and after looking into it I saw no predatory behavior to expose that was given. And people are losing their shit over this “cancelation?” The evidence for this one? “Had a minor backstage”...you think that didn’t and doesn’t currently happen with idk, every Disney star EVER and boy band on the radio? I’m sure a portion of Billie Eilish fans who’s parents buy backstage passes are REAL young, is she cancelled too? Since when does having a minor in your presence = any type of sexual behavior? This allegation causally mentions “backstage minor” and quickly moves to “predator” with no cohesion there. Since when does an adult simply being around a minor automatically make you guilty of doing sick shit? The “evidence” shown was pretty pathetic: cropped and blocked out texts with no name as to who it’s from, no name but said star predator, no time stamp or date, no pics, no voice memos, no emails, no proof of any kind that there was any truth to the claims, no detail, no real allegation actually even made from what I saw. Unless the “so and so did this” part was in invisible ink. I could literally google the date of a ‘insert famous person here’ concert or general tour dates, and do the same with a texting app or with someone else’s phone. This is an Accusation on someone of a serious sex crime on the sole basis maybe 5 texts, some of which are hidden, and ALL of which are anonymous, detail no criminal activity, are never worth ending or attempting to make sure someone’s career over.

Another one I saw was an explanation that another social media person made a somewhat crude comment/gusture towards a woman he knew but wasn’t super familiar with. One time, no actual touching. He was later told by a friend “not cool, other lady friend did not like”, he did as he should have and apologized, and it didn’t happen again- admittedly on both sides. The two girls told him everything was cool and okay, no harm no foul, don’t worry about it. It didn’t happen again and the friendship continued. Days later, “evidence” comes out from one of them citing him as a sexual predator for this situation. This incident. Yeah, it’s not cool to get in peoples space or compliment them in certain ways if your friendship is not on that level and it hasn’t been established. That I agree with, that it simply wasn’t very polite, but a) no one was actually touched physically in anyway and b) the “crude” comment from my understanding was about an outfit fitting her well or being firm fitting. Yeah, that might make ya feel a lil icky, but there was no sexual suggestion or threat. There’s a huge difference between unwanted attention and sexual harassment. Someone else later gets involved but says she’s “not comfortable/willing to discuss” but still insists he’s a predator but doesn’t show a single shred of any involvement or information. If I was these people being falsely accused, getting death treats and doxxed, and ultimately, “cancelled”/therefore loss of income possibly long term , with basically no evidence or someone saying shit like “yes, that’s a predator. Nobody gets to know why I’m saying that though. I don’t want to relive it, my bad. You horrible people need to stop supporting this sex offender!” I’d be sueing the shit out of someone and everyone for slander. Like this is unreal to me. It really blows my mind.

Before you message me hateful shit, hear me out. I’m not saying these guys are stand up, amazing, perfectly well behaved dudes. I’m not saying they’ve never done anything predatory or wrong before in their lives or careers. Lord knows narcissistic and higher than thou types run entertainment. I’m sure they all got their attitude and behavioral problems. I’m just saying the info I just read and described is almost nothing being real generous, no rational person sees that and labels someone a sex offender. You’re accusing someone of a very serious crime, in a lot of cases a fat ole felony, being a RSO list sometimes for a lifetime. Bill Cosby? Deserve it. Weinstien? Deserve it. Epstein? Deserved to be under the jail. I understand there’s not always physical evidence, or maybe there’s not enough to build a case/a case is unwanted by victim. Some say they want people to know and be warned. If that’s what you truly want, you truly truly are trying to protect others, go in 150%. Everything you got. But when this person publicly and openly calling someone out by name for being a “rapist/sexual predator”, absolutely dragging them thru the mud, and the reasoning, the justification for this is that he was dating other women? nah sis. That’s not how this works, getting played, while scummy, is NOT RAPE/SEXUAL ASSAULT/etc. (*this is excluding things that don’t apply to this particular story like recanting consent or knowingly passing on an STI) So sure, he’s a probably a POS, clearly unloyal, he’s maybe learned the art of sweet talkin his way into this one way monogamous relationship, and I frankly wouldnt feel bad if one of those girls who got played popped 3 of his tires, bought a fuck ton of spiders and sneak them into his bedroom or something. But not jail or prison. What he did (unless other info comes out) isn’t something to be uplifted or encouraged, it’s poor, unfair behavior. But what he did is not CRIMINAL. It’s just shitty and inconsiderate. And I know y’all are reading this thinkin “fuck this bitch”, making assumptions before you read a fraction of what I’m saying.

So let me explain a situation I was accidentally involved in a few years ago with someone who was “famous” around those parts and had lots of fans and groupies. Let’s call him “Lee”. Long story short, a friend and I were with him and different other people basically from like 8-9 pm to around 4 am. He was alone (out of my sight) only 3 times: once to use the bathroom at my friends before leaving, once in the men’s bathroom at a club, and for maybe 5 minutes when I had to change at my friends place before going back over. They lived in the same complex and stuff so it was basically throwing on some sweats and taking an elevator down. We hangout, drink, smoke, talk. Lowkey, chill.

I wake up the next day, someone texted me this link about “Lee” raping a girl. I’m thinking “holy shit, that’s scary and insane, we were just with him last night drinking and shit.” Keep reading...it says it was the night before. Same date we were with him. And the time the assault supposedly took place was when we had come back to his place, where other people were already there, we were sitting there forever talking/whatever, this girl who pointed the finger was not even in the room and left before we did. She poked her head in once and asked where Lee’s roommate was. He told her cookout, it’s late so it’ll be a minute. Asked her if she wanted to hang out with us. She declined. So I figured maybe this info was wrong somehow and at the time I wasn’t making the connection between that girl and this story. I was like, no way a girl would lie about that of all things and especially knowing it’d likely get picked up by the local media, or at least local gossip. Her life here would be over. My friend and I decided to go talk to the police even though I avoid the damn police at all costs. The first thing I asked this officer was: “are you POSITIVE this is the date, place, and time, and are you POSITIVE “Lee” is who she is accusing?” And I asked that mostly because I was not about to defend or vouch for someone about a situation I wasn’t present for. Also, I wasn’t the biggest fan of “Lee”, so I sure as shit I wasn’t getting myself involved and going to bat for him without knowing it’s right. The Officer was very adamant that all that info was correct, victim was very sure. I explained to him everything I explained above, but I’m sure in better detail and included texts, pics, videos all with times, plus receipts showing how this isn’t adding up. He wasn’t alone the entire night and early morning. Officer ask me if she (the victim) was visiting a roommate of Lee’s, if they were sleeping together during her visit, I told him the truth which was that I didn’t really know for sure but it was a possibility. He told me somebody else had claimed she was no longer welcome for unknown reasons and believed this to be be related. I explain to the officer that I won’t speak on her time with the roommate because I saw her only long enough for her to ask a question and respond to another. Before she peeped out the door, I had no clue anyone was in there. I said I think she told me her name but I’m awful with names even sober so. He started getting kinda hostile and cutting me short. I repeated exactly what I told him the first time: I’m only speaking on what I witnessed and what I know to be true. So, if you and she are correctly reciting the time, place, person being accused, this accusation is untrue. He first makes a bitchy threat like “you know these girls who lie for these athlete boys can really get in trouble? They all end up broke after the NFL anyway if they even make it. Lying for a friend is illegal, that’s breaking the law and will get YOU in jail.” I lost all my fear of speaking to a police officer at this point because they KNOW this man did not just call me a liar to my face despite my 1:2 of the evidence already fucking up this accusation. I told him that I honestly wasn’t a fan either professionally or personally of “Lee” and I would lie for no one regardless of friendship or status about this, I’d turn in my own flesh and bloood brother and sing like a bird if I caught him doing any sex offender shit. So again, I told this slow man with 2 braincelle this was the reason I asked about how sure he was and he believed the victim was, on the time, place, person, etc. Officer says something along the lines of “well, something happened to this girl and this boy’s gonna be hurtin for it. Someone’s getting charged here.” Which I dunno bout y’all, maybe I’m reading it wrong. But What I gathered from that is: “I’ve decided to be judge and jury in this situation and moreorless declare this young man guilty despite evidence in front of my own eyeballs that shows that there is a good chance the accused is innocent.

I have no idea why this happened. But after we spoke to that dickhead cop it was dropped relatively quickly. I don’t remember now if she pulled the charges herself or the state denied to prosecute. And even still, this followed him. The internet is forever. When his great grandkids google his college career, that will show up. Please keep in mind this was a black athlete, playing ball for a big college in the south, with a white girl accuser, all the cops I saw at that station were white in the short time I was there and at least the one I spoke to had his mind made up. He was loud and clear about that. He said basically the same to my friend who was interviewed separately, that he was determined to convict him, he was “the one”. This city I’m speaking of has been sued for police brutality against BPOC and I’ve heard my friends/classmates getting called the N word (hard ER) in the broad, open day light. So yeah add that info in with the rest and come to your own conclusion.

Before anyone comes for my throat again: idk exactly what DID happen but I know what DID NOT. Which to be clear, is pretty specifically: this rape with this person, did not happen here and at this time. So I’m not saying something didn’t happen but under different circumstances. I know trauma can mess with memories and if something did happen under different circumstances, I am so sorry that happened to her, I wouldn’t wish sexual assault on my worst enemy. I’m also not saying she necessarily had ill intentions or knew it would proceed and go viral as it did. The point is I just don’t know, no clue. Not throwing any blame or shade her way, all blame and shade on that cop though. ACABs, no excuse for his ass.

Anyway, y’all don’t gotta believe this since it’s been a few years and I highly doubt that stuff is anywhere in my phone like 4 iPhones and two laptops later. No reason to front, I don’t gain anything by lying but a guilty conscience. But this scenario that I btw, very much did not wish to be a part of, showed me another side of things. Can we agree to yes of course, trust and support women but also trust evidence and testimony? While, yes, stats show few women lie about this, can we at the same time understand questioning and thoroughly investigating such a heinous crime? Can we also recognize the system is literally built to “serve & protect” some by severely and systematically oppressing others? There are people, too many damn people, who have lost absolutely everything, served major time in big boy maximum security 23-1s, and have been put to death, based on biases and little to no evidence.

Next time you see an accusation, regardless of what it is, please do a little research. Make your own conclusion. Put yourself in their shoes, would you want to be “convicted” (either legally or through SM bullshit) on a snip it of convo with almost no information/context? Called a rapist cause you led someone on? No. You wouldn’t. Actually for any crime for that matter. You would reasonably ask and expect for it to be fair, two sided, and with as much evidence or info as possible. So let’s treat musicians, athletes, influencers, celebs the same way. Let’s not condemn before gathering as much information as possible. If not, I am so afraid we will drive an innocent person to suicide. We would all feel so guilty if someone was driven to suicide over false or misleading statements. Let’s avoid this, please.

[rogers-sweatbands]

Where I Want to Be: Chapter 4

Chapters: 1 (x), 2 (x), 3 (x)

A/N: I am fully aware how long this chapter took for me to get done and I’m sorry I didn’t drop it sooner. Thank you so much for reading and please know how much I love y’all!!! Let me know what you think of this chapter xoxoxoxo

Warnings: unwanted kissing (very brief)

Word Count: 8921

Chapter 4-

John couldn’t believe what he had heard after Freddie hung up the phone, genuinely thinking he was fucking around at the beginning of his call. There was no way a label liked their demo, and there was absolutely no way it was EMI records at that. Having EMI pick them up would have been well past a miracle. However, they were interested in Queen and once the paperwork was signed that Thursday, it would be official. John never thought that Queen would have been much more than a side hobby when he first joined. It was a fun outlet to escape the other stresses that life held and it gave him an excuse to continue playing the bass. However, here he was about to be signed to a label of the greats, a label that represented Elton John for Christ’s sake. To say he was floored would be an understatement.

The boys decided that a celebration that night was in order. Although their marking of the occasion was a bit premature since the paperwork hadn’t gone through yet, they couldn’t have cared less. Getting signed was a huge deal and they needed to celebrate it. Walking into The Laughing Fox that night felt indescribably different. It had been the first place they had all played together as Queen, it was only fitting that they go there to raise a glass to whatever their future had in store… a way for them to remember their humble beginnings. In the matter of an hour, several pints had been slammed down by each of the members, Mary taking photographs of their celebration with a large smile. In that moment, the world seemed absolutely perfect…. they never wanted that feeling to end.

Although six chairs were packed around the small table, only five of them were filled. They didn’t seem to notice at first, all of them focused on how exciting the news of the day was. However, as they all came down from their exhilarated highs, the empty sixth seat began to weigh more and more on the group. While Lane was one to run a few minutes behind on occasion, she had never been the type to be more than fifteen minutes late… but for a celebration like this, she absolutely would have been on time.

“Where’s Lane?” Brian finally asked, eyeing the empty stool across from him quizzically.

“She had other plans that she couldn’t get out of. She’s coming by afterwards!” Mary responded with a large grin.

“What could she possibly be doing other than being a complete nuisance to us? Not like she has other friends.” Roger snorted.

“Believe it or not, Roger, unlike you, Lane actually does have friends outside of us!” She glared at him with a frown. “And she’s actually on a date with a guy from work. Seems like a decent enough guy. Not that you know what that’s like.”

Roger and John’s faces fell slightly, however, neither one of them announced their disheartenment. They locked eyes momentarily, frowns spreading across both of their lips.

“Is it that guy George?” Brian asked, taking a long sip from his beer. “Met him when I went by the bookstore she works at. He seemed… alright.”

“Yeah! He asked her out last night to go for dinner or something… said it was really out of nowhere too. Didn’t really seem like her type but she didn’t want to turn him down since he’s been so nice to her.”

“Yeah, don’t really see her with a highbrow guy like that,” Brian chuckled. “He looks like he’d be too high maintenance for her.”

“What’s he look like?” Roger asked cooly, trying to ignore the anger that was bubbling in his chest.

“Very preppy. Gave off a lot of ‘I-was-born-into-a-fuck-ton-of-money’ vibes.” Brian spoke, trying to recall anything else he could remember about her date. “Pretty sure she said he went to Cambridge for archaeology and… I think English?”

Mary nodded. “Yeah, he definitely is smart. That’s her type though… someone who’s just as witty.” “I think you mean bitchy,” Roger retorted with a smirk.

“She should be coming after they finish up dinner. Maybe if we’re lucky, you’ll get to meet George. He can teach you a thing or two about manners.” Mary’s eyes narrowed in on Roger.

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By the time Lane and George reached the exterior of The Laughing Fox, she was quite ready to bid the man goodnight. To say the date was awful would be a drastic understatement. From the moment George had picked her up that evening, he hadn’t stopped making snarky comments. Whether they be about her appearance (“I’m glad you didn’t wear those awful clogs and went with something more attractive”), the wait staff at the restaurant (he had told her that she didn’t “need to thank the help” after she had thanked their waitress for bringing their food), and by insulting her alma mater by saying his degree was more powerful (“but that also just comes with being a man”). While she wasn’t expecting their date to be one for the books, she had never thought that George would be this… awful… insipid… repulsive. He had been decent enough to her at work that she thought he’d at least possess some basic manners, however, he had completely proved her wrong.

“Well… this is me,” Lane spoke awkwardly, maintaining her distance from George.

“Oh, I can walk you all the way back to your apartment.”

“I know, I have plans to meet my friends here though… no need to walk me back if I’m just heading out immediately afterwards,” she chuckled slightly, trying to ease the tension.

“You aren’t taking me home with you?” George asked genuinely. “I did buy you dinner after all.” Lane paused for a moment, staring at the man with narrowed eyes. “Just because you bought me dinner doesn’t mean you have an automatic invitation into my apartment.”

“It was an extremely nice dinner. A woman is supposed to thank her date for something like that.”

“I did, George. I thanked you several times this evening. I’m not a prostitute, buying me dinner doesn’t mean you’re going to receive any sexual favors in return.”

“Well, you certainly dress like one,” his jaw clenched as his eyes raked down her body. “It’s not polite to lead a man on.” “I never lead you on. You asked me to dinner and I agreed… that was all.”

He took a step towards her, closing the distance between them as her back was pressed to the cold brick outside the pub. “You lead me on, you little minx. Now give me what I deserve.”

George held her wrists tightly, forcing his lips onto hers as she wriggled to get out from under him. The brick was digging into her back as she tried to find a way out, wanting to disappear into the crowded pub to get away from him. Lane wanted him gone and now, her head swimming as she tried to figure out a way to get him to leave her alone. She wound her eyes shut as she lifted her knee quickly, driving it directly into his crotch. His mouth detached from hers as he released her wrists and fell to his knees on the sidewalk.

“You bitch,” he sneered, his hands moving to grip the front of his trousers. “You’re going to regret that.”

Lane stared at him for a moment, her eyes widening before she ran into the pub, praying that he wouldn’t follow her once he was able to compose himself. She could feel the tears stinging the corners of her eyes as she descended the stairs into the dimly-lit space, her teeth gnawing at her bottom lip as she made her way to the bathroom. She needed to pull herself together before joining the rest of the group, not wanting to be the one to ruin their special night. Getting signed was a huge deal for the boys, she didn’t want that to be taken away from them. As she stood in front of the mirror, Lane tightly gripped the sides of the sink, taking her frazzled appearance in. She forced herself to take a few deep breaths before plastering on a smile, making her way to the bar so she could grab a pint before settling down at their table.

She slid into her seat between John and Mary quietly, not wanting to disturb the heated debate taking place regarding a rugby match that was playing in the corner.

“How was your date?!” Mary whispered excitedly, her hand squeezing Lane’s. “Tell me everything.”

Lane shrugged, pretending to be invested in the conversation going on around her. “It was alright.”

“Only alright? Didn’t he take you to that French café you’ve been dying to go to?”

She nodded in response, taking her lip between her teeth as she picked at her nails. “Yeah. It was nice, I guess.” Her voice quivered slightly as she tried to cough back a dry sob. She could feel everyone’s eyes fall onto her as she shifted nervously in her seat.

“Did something happen?” Mary probed gently, her tone growing with worry.

“He was a total cunt. No surprise there,” Lane forced a small laugh, trying to play off the evening’s events as a normal shitty date. “No need to dwell on it though, this is supposed to be a fun night!” She smiled up at them before taking a small sip from her pint, her gaze falling to the scratched tabletop.

The table was silent as they watched her for a few moments, Lane fidgeting in her seat as their gazes burned through her. She could feel her eyes welling up again, though she desperately tried to blink her tears back.

“Lane,” Brian spoke, her gaze not bothering to lift up as she muttered a small hum in response. “What happened?”

“He was just a shitty guy… again, no need to dwell on it.”

“You’re crying, love, there is a need to ‘dwell on it’.”

Lane’s hands lifted to rub at her eyes as she wished to be anywhere but The Laughing Fox in that moment.

“Did he say something?” Mary asked, taking her friend’s hand in hers once again.

Lane paused for a moment before a sad chuckle passed her lips. “I mean… yeah… but words don’t mean anything to me. That wouldn’t’ve affected me at all.”

“Then why are you crying, Lane?”

Lane shook her head, removing her hand from Mary’s before shifting to stand. “I shouldn’t have come tonight. I’m… you guys have fun.”

“He touched you, didn’t he?” Roger spoke through gritted teeth.

Lane felt herself stop in midair, her eyes widening as she looked at him.

“He did. That fucking bastard, I’m going to fucking kill him.” Roger pushed himself back from their table, his fists clenched at his sides.

“R-Rog, that’s really not necessary-”

“Damn right, it’s fucking necessary. He isn’t going to know what hit him.”

“Roger, it really isn’t-”

“Lane, I swear to God, he doesn’t get to do that and get away with it-”

“It isn’t necessary because I already handled it!” Lane yelled, her chest heaving as she stared at the blonde. The group’s eyes widened as they looked at her, their jaws dropping. “I… I handled it myself.”

“You… what?” Roger’s eyebrows cinched as he stared at her surprisedly.

“He… well… when he-when he pressed me up against the wall outside… I… uhm, I just sort of drove my knee up into his crotch and ran in. I handled it myself.”

“That’s spectacular!” Freddie praised, his jaw still dropped from her previous announcement.

“Lane, that’s unbelievable. I can’t believe you did that!” Brian added on, lifting his glass in her direction.

Lane blushed as she settled herself back into her seat, eyeing Roger cautiously as a low grumble came from his chest.

“Bastard deserves to rot in Hell,” he mumbled, tossing back the rest of his pint as he climbed back onto his stool.

“Agreed,” John spoke, anger still bubbling in this chest. However, he did his best to mask it, not wanting her to see that side of him.

She sent John a soft smile, her eyes twinkling up at him. He felt his cheeks redden under her gaze, his lips mimicking hers as he bumped his elbow against her upper arm gently. Lane rolled her eyes before laughing, elbowing him in return before challenging Brian to a round of darts.

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By the time last call was announced at a quarter to three, the entire group had begun to feel the significant effects of their evening binge. Mary was half collapsed onto Freddie, Roger had been lying face-down on the table for nearly thirty minutes, and Lane was a lost cause. Her shaken demeanor had developed into a giggly, touchy persona over the course of a few hours (and a lot of tequila). Her head rested on John’s shoulder as she attempted to gather her thoughts on evolution, her words slurring together as she discussed the topic with Brian.

“‘M just saying, the fact that creation was taught in schools at one point is a fucking joke!” She cried out.

“Well some schools actually do still teach creation,” Brian corrected her, his eyes beginning to blink more and more slowly as time wore on. “But you’re right… it’s fucking bullshit.” “What do you think, John?” She hummed, shifting her head so she could look up at him.

John chuckled as he looked down at her, her pupils blown from the combination of alcohol and exhaustion that wracked her system. She’d dozed off a few times on his shoulder, however, every time he suggested he walk her back to her flat she slapped his chest. “Not sleepy,” she swore, the phrase normally punctuated by a small yawn. “Only reason why I’m laying here is because my head’s so heavy.” John wrapped one of her curls around his index finger, allowing himself to grow more and more distracted by her presence.

“John?” She asked again, her eyebrows meeting in the middle as she studied him confusedly.

He hummed, eyes meeting hers once again before he shook his head. “No, you’re right, love. It’s a total joke.”

Lane smiled widely before shifting her gaze back to Brian, listening to him continue his rant.

The bell in the corner of the bartop was rung for the second and final time, the entire group slipping off their stools as they made their way out of the pub. Lane was leaning against John’s chest, his hand supporting her as she stumbled her way up the stairs to greet the cold, early morning air.

“Don’t need help,” she reassured him, however, she made no effort to move his hand from her waist. “‘M not that drunk.”

“I know,” he smirked, trying to fight back a laugh as she staggered slightly. “Just holding you close to… to keep myself warm ’tsal.”

Lane giggled as she looked up at him, shivering slightly in his embrace. “Getting chilly now… I don’t like the cold,” she pouted, curling more into his side.

John shrugged his jacket off, draping it over her shoulders before wrapping his arm around her again, fearing she’d topple over any moment.

“You’re going to get cold now-” Lane started, shifting to take the coat off.

“No, Lane. I’ll be fine. Promise.” “Pinky promise?”

Lane held her pinky in his direction, her stone-faced complexion proving to John that she was, in fact, being serious. He chuckled quietly before shaking his head, lifting his free hand to intertwine his pinky with hers.

“Pinky promise,” he whispered, leaning down slightly so he could make direct eye contact with her.

She gave him another large smile before releasing a small giggle, John’s grin only widening at her expression. They stared at each other in silence for a moment, both of them grinning like madmen. However, the quietness was quickly interrupted by Roger complaining about having the spins, perching himself on John’s other shoulder.

“John, ‘M afraid I can’t see very straight,” he laughed, rocking back and forth between both of his feet.

“It was probably the ten or so shots you had after you had all those pints, Rog,” Deaky commented, trying to shrug the blonde boy off his shoulder. However, his grip tightened even more as he attempted to steady himself. “Hey Brian, do you mind… handling Roger tonight? Lane’s completely knackered and I should probably be getting her home.” Brian studied the three of them tiredly before nodding. “Yeah, c’mon then.”

The tall brunette peeled Roger off of John, muttering a short goodbye before disappearing down the sidewalk.

“Ready?” John asked, waiting for Lane to nod slightly. He led her down the sidewalk, the echo of her heels against the concrete punctuating the early morning air. Lane giggled to herself once again, clasping a hand over her mouth excitedly before looking up at John.

“What is it?”

“Knackered,” she imitated, butchering his accent severely. “It’s a funny word.”

“Of all the words in the English language, that’s the one that gets you?” He chuckled, shaking his head at her.

“Technically it’s slang,” she corrected him with a pout. “No need to make fun of me, John.” “Not making fun of you, promise,” he hummed, giving her a reassuring smile. “Thought it was…” John paused momentarily as he tried to find the word for it. Cute. Adorable. Perfect in every way. “Thought it was funny.”

“I am funny,” she agreed. “I tell a good joke.”

“Do you?” John teased, holding back the smile that was threatening to make its way onto his lips.

“What do you call a magic dog?” She stopped in her tracks, crossing her arms across her chest as she stared at him with a sloppy grin.

“What?”

“A LAB-ricadabra!” She giggled, throwing her head back happily.

John shook his head at her, his eyes rolling as he wrapped himself back around her to continue their journey.

“It was good right?!”

“Of course, love. Very funny.”

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It took nearly double the time it normally would have to get Lane back to her apartment, John having to stop every few minutes or so as Lane pointed out random things on their walk. “Look at those flowers growing over there! Can we go smell them?” she’d asked him, batting her lashes until he agreed. And although they stopped to smell every flower on their walk home, there was no place he’d rather be.

John paused on the front stoop of her apartment, watching her quietly as she gazed at the stars in sheer wonderment. “Look! There’s Orion!” She pointed excitedly, shaking John’s arm until he looked up as well. “And right over there is Sagittarius… that one’s mine.” He looked down momentarily to see her squint up at the sky, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth as she desperately studied the twinkling lights above her. “And there! There’s Leo… that one’s yours.”

Her gaze fell down to meet his again, giving him a soft smile as John desperately tried to mask his reddening cheeks.

“You know my birthday?” He asked softly, scratching at his chin as he tried to hold back a giddy laugh.

“Yeah, you told me it a few weeks ago. Guess I just remembered it or something…” Lane’s cheeks flushed as well, embarrassed that she had remembered such a trivial detail about him and blurted it aloud.

John studied her for a moment, his chest warming as he watched her look back up at the stars, his jacket wrapped around her tightly. She looked absolutely perfect.

“John,” she called, pulling him from his trance. He hummed quietly, carding a hand through his hair as he shook his head.

“Would you mind walking me to my door? I’m still a bit… shaken up from before.” Lane wrapped her arms around herself as she bit her lip.

His face fell as he remembered the earlier events of the evening, feeling the anger bubbling inside him once again. “Yeah, of course.”

Lane teetered up the few stairs to enter her building, the two of them remaining silent as they walked up to the third floor. She paused in front of her front door, biting her lip once again. “Would you like to come in?” She asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. It was late, really late, but Lane couldn’t stand the idea of being alone in her apartment. Especially with the threat of “You’re going to regret that” ringing in her ears.

And although it was nearing four in the morning and John was about to fall asleep, he nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I’d love to.”

Her face lit up before she turned to unlock her door, allowing him inside her flat before flipping the light on in the front hallway.

“Make yourself comfortable,” she smiled as she led him deeper into the apartment, laying his jacket across the arm chair in her living room. “‘M sorry it’s a bit of a mess. I wasn’t expecting company.” John waved off her comment as he walked around the space, eyes falling onto an open easel and half painted canvas in the corner. “I didn’t know you painted.” Lane shrugged before tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s a hobby of mine, I guess… I painted a lot of the art I have hung up.” She gestured to a framed canvas hanging next to her overflowing bookshelf, a field of multi-colored wildflowers covering the majority of the piece.

“Beautiful,” he commented, sending her a large smile before walking over to examine it.

“That’s a field from back home… I’d go read there a lot in high school.”

He hummed as he studied the painting further, head tilting in curiosity. “Why’d you sign it P.E.W.?”

“Oh, that’s because Lane is a nickname… my name is actually Penelope Elaine,” she laughed, rubbing at the back of her neck. “Started going by Lane when I was thirteen or so. I never really liked my name… thought Penelope was too much and Elaine was too stuffy. I decided Lane suited me best.” “I like your name,” he smiled warmly. “Penelope is cute.”

Lane blushed and rolled her eyes. “Always reminded me of The Odyssey and how much I hate Homer.”

“So you hate it because of its literary connotations?” John chuckled, shaking his head lightly. “That’s a very you thing to say.”

“I was never a big fan of the Greeks,” she teased with a smirk.

“From what I remember, she was quite intelligent though.”

“She was. However, she was hopelessly in love with Odysseus and waited twenty years for him when he was thought to be dead! He was her achilles heel.”

“So you’re saying that her being a hopeless romantic is a bad thing? That it was her ultimate downfall?” John cocked his head as he looked at her, loving how seriously Lane took the subject. “I’m saying that love made her blind. One hundred and eight suiters attempted to take her hand in that time! She delayed all of them just because she thought there was a slim chance her husband was still alive. I’m not saying that her fidelity was wrong in any sense, I just don’t know how realistic that would be if it were applied to real life.”

“So you’re saying that you’ve never personally been married to a king who leaves to fight in a war for twenty years? Is that not relatable enough for you?” He teased, Lane’s cheeks further reddening.

“Shut up!”

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John found himself propped up on Lane’s couch, sitting semi-awkwardly while she took a shower. She had muttered something about wanting to wash George’s touch off of her but didn’t want to leave it until she was alone in her apartment. He knew she was scared, although she never would have admitted that to him. She was one to always keep a strong front put up, one who would always attempt to keep a stiff upper lip even when she didn’t have to. John didn’t want to push her to talk about it, knowing that would get him nowhere. He told her to go shower and that he’d be there when she got out.

However, in the time she was in the shower, John was trying to avoid letting his mind wander to what she was doing in there. He had always been able to withhold his more private feelings of Lane until he got home, but up until that point, he had never been with her in any sort of an intimate setting (if you could call it that). He did his best to distract himself by looking around the room, trying to figure out something that could occupy his thoughts (and would help him get rid of the tent that was beginning to build within his trousers). He stood and made his way over to her bookshelf, admiring how many books she had managed to cram into its wobbly structure. All of the spines of the novels were well worn, many of them cracked slightly from their obvious love over the years. He felt his lips pulling into an involuntary smile when his eyes reached Shakespeare’s Sonnets: The Complete Set, forever thankful for the day he had ran into her at the tea shop. Although John would have never told Lane this, he had gone and picked up a copy for himself, dog-earring Sonnet 138 when he reached it. He had found a new love and appreciation for William Shakespeare in the month he had known her, finding himself voraciously reading almost everything the man had published so he could always have something to discuss with her (not that she would ever allow a lull in their conversation). He loved how passionate and opinionated she was about almost any subject, enjoying being able to sit there and listen while she rambled about anything under the Sun. She was truly a sight to see and he was more than happy to sit back and observe.

His gaze moved up to the higher shelves, the books being replaced with dozens of photo albums that had been carefully curated from her early teen years to the present, each carefully marked with the year on its spine. John plucked the most recent album off the shelf before returning to the couch, settling the book onto his lap before opening it. It opened with images of Lane and others laughing and covered in confetti, “New Year’s Madness in Berlin” written carefully in cursive along the bottom of the image. John thought she looked absolutely stunning, not that she didn’t always look that way. He could hear her laughter distinctly as he looked at the photos, the ringing sound making him smile before he began to flip through the album. He loved how detail oriented she was, always marking the date with her caption on the bottom of each image, sometimes a pressed flower or ticket stub being placed beside them. His heart swelled when he reached her graduation pictures, seeing how happy and relieved she looked in her cap and gown. When he turned the page, he was surprised to see a small letter placed next to a picture of her holding a bouquet of delphiniums, tears very prevalent in her eyes as she stared down at the arrangement with a small smile.

Lane,

We know how hard today must be for you, but know that you are never walking alone (whether it be today or any day). We are always here, lifting you up and cheering you on. You’re going to do great and amazing things, P.E.W..

“I would not wish any companion in the world but you.”

-The Tempest, Willy Shakes

All our love,

Harper, Freya, Leo, and Rex

She had penned a short caption at the bottom of the page, a flower pressed beside the tear stained writing. “They remembered how much delphiniums meant to me. Today was hard, but these made it better… it’s hard to remember the lighter side of life, especially on days like today.” John couldn’t think of a reason why it would have been a hard day for her. He remembered how happy he had been at his own graduation, relieved to know that he never had to sit through another examination again. Maybe it was because her experience had been that much better than his, seeing how happy she was in every picture from her final semester at school. From their annual university pub crawl, celebrating St. Patrick’s Day in Dublin, her third-year formal, and pulling her last all-nighter in the library before her Japanese literature final, she always had a smile on her face.

When he turned the page, “Notre Dernier Été” was written largely at the top, pictures of her and her friends from university covering the pages as they took stereotypical tourist-y photos around Paris. Ones of all them “holding” the Eiffel Tower (“It’s not as heavy as it looks!”), Lane holding a french fry across her upper lip like a moustache (“Starting to blend in with the locals nicely”), and a picture of her mimicking the Mona Lisa with the painting in the background (“Got us kicked out of the Louvre… totally worth it). He found himself chuckling at each one, the pictures growing increasingly more funny as the book went on. Images of her in a beret, singing into a baguette, playing the guitar while sitting in front of the Eiffel Tower filled the pages, John smiling as he watched the journey of her summer holiday.

However, when he turned to the most recent page, he felt a small blush rise to his cheeks. She had arranged some pictures of her with everyone at The Laughing Fox, entitling the section “New City, New Friends” with a small heart beside it. His eyes fell onto a candid of them together, him laughing at some stupid joke she had made. He was thankful Mary managed to capture the moment between them, loving the way Lane smiled up at him in the photograph.

“I quite like that picture of us,” Lane spoke suddenly, John jumping in surprise before realizing she was standing behind him. “It’s proof that you think I’m funny.” “You are funny,” he confirmed, closing the book as she rounded the couch. His breath caught in his chest as he watched her, coughing a bit at the fact that she was in an oversized jumper and what appeared to be nothing underneath it.

“I’m aware,” she smirked, taking the album from him and putting it back. “Did you enjoy looking through those pictures while I was gone?” She teased, John’s cheeks reddening.

“Oh, I’m sorry if I shouldn’t have. I was just-”

“John, I’m kidding! That’s what they’re there for. I’m surprised you picked this year’s.” “Why’s that?”

“Oh, never mind,” She laughed awkwardly, eyes widening at herself. “The older ones are more boring anyways.”

“I’m sure they’re great! Let me see.”

“No, you’re not missing out on much. I promise.”

“I think that’s something for me to determine,” he smirked before walking over to the bookshelf. “Let’s take a look.”

Lane did her best to cover the albums with her small frame but failed miserably, John plucking the album from 1969 out from behind her. He shifted the album over her head, chuckling to himself as she attempted to grab it.

“John,”  she stated seriously, hands moving onto her hips. “Give it back.” “You said it was boring. Clearly, if you don’t want me to see it, that must not be the case.”

He quickly shifted to open the album, holding it out of her reach..

“John, please,” she whispered, looking up at him pleadingly.

John almost choked at her expression, his pupils dilating at her words. He shook his head of his thoughts. “You said it was boring.”

“It is.”

“Then let me see it if it’s so boring.”

She groaned quietly before hiding her face in her hands. “You know what, fine. I’ll be in the kitchen making tea. Enjoy!” Lane stormed out of the room with a small huff, John watching her confusedly before he moved to his original spot on the couch.

The album began like her most recent one, however, her hair was significantly longer, falling right above her waist. The first photo was of her laying in the grass, her hair spread around her head in a golden halo, various wildflowers woven into it. John didn’t know why she wanted to hide the album from him, she looked absolutely stunning. He turned to next page and immediately snapped the album shut, hearing Lane cackle from the next room.  

“Get it now?”

John remained silent as his eyes widened, trying to process what he had just seen. It was almost the same photo as the first, however, the image had been taken from farther away. The photographer was standing over her, Lane’s body selectively covered with wild flowers from head to toe, the rest of her body completely bare. If he had thought she looked stunning before, he thought she looked absolutely remarkable now.

“D-Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he stammered slightly. “It’s… art.”

Lane ran back into the room, mouth agape as she studied him. “What did you say?”

He swallowed thickly as he looked back at her, trying to think of anything but the image he had just seen. “It’s art.”

“So you get it! Thank God,” she said excitedly. “So many people take these pictures the wrong way.”

“Do they?” John’s voice was strained as he shifted a throw pillow onto his lap. “Don’t see how that could happen.”

“You’d be surprised,” she giggled as she sat down next to him, picking the album back up and resting it on top of the pillow. “That’s why I’m so scared of people going back into my older albums… among other things.”

“Other things?” John froze as he thought about what else could be in her album, not sure what would top nude photos of herself.

Lane paused momentarily as she bit down on her lip. “Well my past is a bit… different.”

“Different?”

“Well… I moved when I was fifteen.”

“Moving isn’t an abnormal thing,” he chuckled, nudging his knee against hers.

“No, I know that… it’s just that I moved to a different kind of place.”

John looked at her questioningly as she stood up. “It’s easier if I just show you.” She carefully grabbed the album from 1966 before opening it, sighing quietly before moving to stand in front of him. She handed him the album wordlessly, John confused as he stared at the picture. A much younger version of herself stood in front of a sign labeled ‘The Farm’ wearing a large smile, doodles of flowers and peace signs surrounding the image. He shot her a puzzled expression, not understanding what she was trying to show him. Lane sighed before turning the page for him, shifting so she could sit down next to him.

“Well… I moved to The Farm when I was fifteen.”

“I figured that much, but I don’t-”

“The Farm was… is… a commune… in New York.” Lane’s eyes fell to her lap as she spoke, hair falling in front of her face. “Moved cross-country the summer after my freshman year of high school.”

“You lived on a commune?” The sentence unconsciously fell from Deaky’s lips without thought, Lane’s shoulders falling at his comment.

“I’m not like that anymore though… not that living on a commune is bad or anything but-”

“No, Lane, it’s okay. I don’t think it’s weird,” he reassured her, moving his hand to rest on her knee. “I was just… surprised, is all.”

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before meeting his gaze, giving him a nervous smile. “I don’t tell very many people about The Farm,” she admitted quietly. “I’m always afraid of how they will react when I talk about it… not many people are too keen on being friends with the ‘dirty hippie’.”

John’s heart broke a bit as he watched her, seeing the obvious hurt within her hazel eyes. “I don’t think you’re a dirty hippie.”

“Well you haven’t seen all the pictures,” Lane chuckled dryly. “Or heard about anything that happened while I was there.”

“And I’m telling you that no number of pictures or stories about you and The Farm would make me think that.” John’s hand squeezed her knee gently before he shifted so he could flip through the photo album. Lane looked undeniably happy in every one of the images. Pictures of her dangling upside down in a tree, running through an open field of flowers, sitting around a large bonfire with her arms wrapped around the people next to her… The Farm looked to be like her own personal paradise.

He paused on a picture of her standing arm and arm with a tall, bearded brunette, chuckling gently at the funny faces they were making at the camera. A small caption was scrawled along the bottom in an unrecognizable handwriting, the blunt all caps standing out against the looped font Lane had been using for the other pictures. “ME AND MY SHADOW,” it read, crudely drawn stars on either side of the phrase. A small arrow had been drawn next to it, pointing to a short caption Lane had added on: “We stick together like glue.”

“Who’s that?” John asked, pointing to the man curiously.

Lane smiled slightly at the picture, remembering the day vividly. “That’s my brother Kenny… he’s who moved us cross-country.”

“I didn’t know you had a brother,” John smiled as he flipped through more pages. “Are you two close?”

“Very.” Lane’s tone was tight as she watched him look through the album. “Kenny’s my best friend.”

“He should come visit soon. I’d love to meet him.” Lane felt her breath catch in her chest, always hating when Kenny would come up among new friends. She hated going into it… she hated to bring the room down. “That’s not going to be able to happen,” she spoke quietly, moving to pick at her cuticles.

“Why’s that? Work or something?”

“Kenny… he was drafted into Vietnam in December of ‘69.”

“And he’s still over there?” He looked up from the book, pausing on an image of her and Kenny sitting on the front bumper of a Volkswagen van.

Lane remained silent for a moment, avoiding John’s gaze. “He died while he was there… a freak accident or something. Happened during my first year at Oxford.”

John’s face fell at her comment, wishing he hadn’t brought it up in the first place. “Lane, I’m so sorry. I-”

“It’s alright. You didn’t know, don’t blame yourself.” She waved her hand at him sadly. “It’s been almost three years now… about time I got used to talking about it.” She forced a small laugh before finally looking up at John.

He was silent for a moment, eyes softening as he looked at her. “My dad died when I was eleven… it’s been ten years and it’s still difficult for me to talk about it sometimes,” he spoke quietly, swallowing hard. “I know my pain isn’t the same as yours, and that we all deal with things differently… but I understand what it’s like to lose someone from your family.”

Lane felt her eyes well up for the third time that evening, hands moving to rub away the tears that had spilled over onto her cheeks. “Kenny was all I had,” she started, voice quivering slightly. “Our dad left when I was born. He didn’t want a second child and my birth completely set him off. Dropped our mom at the hospital and… he was never heard from again. Mom changed a lot because of that… she didn’t want much to do with me since I was the reason he left. Kenny had to grow up way faster than he should have, suddenly being responsible for the child my mother didn’t want… she finally left one night when I was fourteen, leaving Kenny as my sole caretaker. He was only twenty at the time, had so much ahead of him… but he stepped up to the plate and he made it his mission to raise me in the best way that he could. That’s why he moved us to The Farm.” She leaned over and pointed to the van in the image John had been looking at before. “We lived in that van my entire freshman year of high school before we moved. He didn’t make enough money to pay rent on an apartment, so he’d park it in random parts of San Francisco and would walk everywhere. That way, I would always have a place to go after school and a place to sleep when he was on the night shift. He worked four jobs to make sure he could provide for us… I always offered to get a job so I could help but… he’d wave me off. He always put my education before anything. Always told me that I needed to put my brain first, he’d take care of the rest.”

John listened to her silently, his heart crumbling as she continued, her arms wrapping around herself protectively.

“We moved to The Farm the day after I finished school that year… Kenny had met a few guys through one of his jobs who told him about a ‘free-minded paradise’ on the East Coast. They told him about how you could live there for free as long as you did your share of work… and how it was strong community that really benefited young people like us. We drove there and made it in four days, Kenny sometimes driving well into the early hours of the morning before pulling over to sleep. He knew that if he were going to continue to take care of me, it was the best chance he was going to get. He never made a selfish decision in his life… he always lived his life to benefit others… I can only wish to be half the person he is… was.”

“He sounds amazing, Lane.”

“He was… he’s still the best person I’ve ever known.”

“I can see where you get it from,” John nudged her knee, making her chuckle. “Knew you had to get it from somewhere.” “Ken was a much better person than I am… but he did his best to teach me. He probably wouldn’t give Rog as much shit as I do.” “Rog deserves it, you know that!” His eyes crinkled as he gave her a large smile.

“No, you’re right,” she laughed, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Kenny would’ve given him shit too.”

A comfortable silence fell between the two of them, heads shaking slightly. The kettle let out a loud screech from her kitchen, both of them jumping in surprise. “Shit, forgot I even put that on,” she breathed, hand clutched over her chest. “Want some tea?”

John nodded. “Please.”

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

Lane flipped through the remainder of the photo albums she had on her shelf as she and John finished the kettle. He was basking in the sound of her voice as she told him stories and anecdotes from her teenage years, loving to hear about the unknown side of her. The wild child who attended war protests in Washington, D.C., who took insane road trips every summer with her brother and their friends, who attended Woodstock and managed to be “sober enough” to have nearly perfect memory of it… John never thought she could become any more interesting than she already was.

He didn’t want to admit it, but his favorite album was the one from 1969. John hated how much he loved the newly found artistry she found once she turned eighteen… the kind that made him hold a pillow tightly across his lap as he did his best to focus on the stories she was telling rather than the photographs in front of him. He paused on an image taken of her the day before she left for university, her guitar placed on her lap as she gave the camera a wide smile.

“I didn’t know you played guitar before tonight.” “Well, you didn’t know a lot of things about me before tonight,” she giggled, nudging his arm. “But yeah, it was a gift for my sixteenth birthday. They had thrifted it and repaired it heavily before giving it to me… one of the best gifts I’ve ever received.”

John nodded, turning back to the image. He stared at the acoustic for a moment, looking at the images she had painted on it over the years. The face of the instrument had been adorned in various flowers and other designs, the whole thing looking very Lane. “You still have it?” “Yeah! Let me go grab it, hold on.” Lane jumped off the couch and ran to her bedroom, offering it to John when she returned. “It looks a bit different now… I repainted it a few times during college.” He smiled up at her as he admired the work. “This is awesome! Never heard of anyone doing this to a guitar.” “Well you know me, never one to do the usual thing…  plus, I never liked the look of the bare wood. Thought it was boring.”

He chuckled before handing it back to her, admiring Lane as she strummed quietly. “Play me something.” “Oh no, I couldn’t do that.” “And why not?” “Because you’re a professional musician who’s being signed by EMI records and I taught myself by watching other people in drum circles. Not going to happen.”

“C’mon, I’m not going to judge you! I bet you’re amazing.”

“Deaks,” she spoke, her tone stern as she drummed her fingers on the top of the instrument. John smirked at her, cocking his head to the side. “Penelope.”

“You know, calling me a name I hate isn’t helping you make your case.”

“You called me a nickname, only thought it was fair. You almost exclusively call me John.”

Lane rolled her eyes as she shook her head. “You’re never going to drop this, are you?” “That’s correct, Penelope Elaine. I’ll be calling you by your full name until you play for me.” “You’re an annoying piece of shit. You know that, right?” “I’m aware.”

Lane sighed as she looked down at her lap, adjusting the guitar slightly. “Alright. I’ll play for you under two conditions.”

“Which are?”

“One, you can’t judge me.” “I already said I wouldn’t do that, love.” “And two, you play me something afterwards.”

John paused momentarily, cocking his head to the side. “Well I play the bass so-”

“I know for a fact that you can play the guitar. Don’t play dumb.” Lane’s face deadpanned as she looked across at him.

“Fine. I agree to your conditions.”

Lane nodded wordlessly as she looked down at her fingers, laughing quietly. “Don’t know what I should play.”

“Play anything.” “Wow, that was really helpful,” she teased, looking up momentarily.

He raised his hands in defense, giving her a small smile. “I’m just trying to be of assistance.”

Lane rolled her eyes before shifting the capo, plucking the strings a few times. “You promise you’re not going to judge me?” “Yes!”

“Okay, okay… here we go.” Her eyes fell as she began to strum quietly, a curtain of blonde hair falling in front of her face as she began to sing along. “Stars shining bright above you, night breezes seem to whisper I love you, birds singing in the sycamore tree. Dream a little dream of me.”

John’s cheeks reddened at her choice of song, wishing she’d realize his feelings for her. Deep down, he knew she didn’t pick that song for the reason he wished, to admit her love for him… however, as he felt a swell in his heart, he pretended that it was. As she finished, she looked up at him bashfully, biting her bottom lip before setting the guitar between them.

“Lane, that was amazing!” John smiled breathlessly, trying to comprehend how beautiful she looked in that moment. Golden curls flowing past her shoulders, her too large jumper completely engulfing her form, her hazel eyes somehow still sparkling despite it nearing six in the morning. She had never looked more stunning.

She blushed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I wouldn’t call it amazing… but thank you.”

“No, trust me. That was… perfect.”

Lane cocked an eyebrow at him suspiciously, running a hand through her hair. “Well go on then, your turn.”

He suddenly felt his face fall, now regretting their deal. While he did want to hear her play, the idea of having to pick a song made him want to pull his hair out. “U-Uhm… do you… like The Beatles?” Lane rolled her eyes before laughing, kicking his shin lightly. “John, sweetheart, everyone loves The Beatles.”

“I just wanted to make sure!”

“I’m kidding!” She giggled, nudging the guitar closer to him. “I have every Beatles record… I love them.”

“Do you have a favorite album?” “Are you trying to stall so you don’t have to play for me?”

“No!” John rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I was just wondering because I could… I don’t know, play a song from that album. But that sounds lame, I’ll just p-”

“Oh no, John, I’m sorry. That’s really sweet of you.” Lane smiled, tilting her head slightly. “But picking a favorite is pretty hard… I’m quite fond of their earlier stuff though! The ‘I Want to Hold Your Hand’ single was the first record I ever bought with my own money… the B-side was ‘I Saw Her Standing There’ and I remember playing those two songs on a constant loop until Kenny bought me the full record. He was so sick of hearing those same lyrics for hours on end.”

“That was really sweet of him.” “It was definitely to benefit his own sanity though, believe me.”

John laughed before placing the instrument in his lap, shifting the pillow to his feet. “‘I Want to Hold Your Hand,’ aye?” He asked, watching her nod quickly. “Think I remember the chords for that one.”

“If you don’t, I can always help you, love.” Lane’s voice dripped in amusement as she sent him a teasing smirk.

John rolled his eyes as he chuckled slightly. “Pretty sure I can handle it on my own.”

Lane settled back into the cushion behind her as she watched him intently, John’s gaze falling as he played for her. He tried to mask his blush as he sang along quietly, never being a big fan of his own voice. However, as he finished the song and looked up at Lane, her reaction made him want to do it more often.

“I’ve never heard you sing before.” “I know… I don’t like to do it all that oft-”

“Please do it more. Your voice is quite lovely.”

“Thank you.” John’s face flushed a deeper shade as he set the guitar down on the coffee table in front of them, his bottom lip being taken between his teeth.

A short silence fell between them before Lane yawned quietly, her eyes blinking up at him. John shifted to check the time on his watch, shaking his head at the time.

“What is it?” She asked quietly, stifling another yawn with her sleeve.

“It’s nearing half six already,” he laughed, shaking his head at how much time they’d spent together. “You should probably get to bed, Lane.”

She nodded slowly, rubbing her eyes. “Would you like to stay over?”

John’s heart stopped beating for a moment as her words hung in the air. “Pardon?”

“Would you like to stay over? I don’t want to kick you out when it’s so late… well… early, I guess.”

John wanted nothing more than to stay over, even if that meant he slept on the couch. However, the fact that he had rehearsal in a few hours hung over his head, ruining her offer.

“I wish I could but… I-I have rehearsal later and I should probably go home and shower beforehand.”

Lane nodded before giving him a small smile. “Don’t worry, John. I completely understand.” She shifted herself off the couch, reaching her arms above her head as she stretched slightly.

“Thank you for tonight, Lane.” “I should be the one thanking you. I’m the one who invited you in because I was so…”

John waved off her comment before he pulled her into a hug. “Don’t worry about it. I didn’t mind one bit.”

Lane wrapped her arms around his neck tightly, nuzzling her nose into his chest for a moment. “Call me later, alright? I want to make sure you made it home okay.” “Right, because the half a block is such a treacherous journey,” he chuckled, nudging her arm gently.

Lane rolled her eyes before pushing him towards the door, stopping herself when John was leaned against it. “I’ll see you later, yeah?” “Of course.”

“Goodnight, John.” “Sweet dreams, Lane.”

As John walked home that morning, he swore that no feeling could have ever topped the way he felt in that instant. As he flopped face first onto his bed, his mind could only be consumed with one thing: Lane… and he didn’t want it any other way.

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[tessatechaitea]

New Titans #112

Don't you worry your pretty little head about Red Star's right leg.

I keep trying to organize my life so that I can read more actual books (as opposed to comic books which I'm not judging. I'm just differentiating) without having to sacrifice any of the other things I enjoy doing. What that generally means is that I wind up reading about ten pages every morning before going to bed (I work nights!). Which realistically means I need to do improve my time management if I'm going to be serious about reading. I have managed to read the first "book" of Alan Moore's Jerusalem but it's taken me a fucking long time to do it. I thought it would take me a long time because I was expecting a difficult read but I'm finding it enjoyable. Plus by the time I've finished, I'm fairly certain I'll be able to navigate Northampton with ease. I'm also wondering if all the descriptions of the characters' movements through the city are an encoded treasure map! Or, being that Alan Moore wrote it, it's more likely a spell to summon some sex demons. While organizing (and by organizing, I mean the main definition of organizing: moving shit around in a way that makes you feel like you're accomplishing something but really you're just engaging in an activity to forget about your mortality for awhile. Plus you can generally get some really fucking good dusting done), I managed to place all of the books from various book shelves that I have yet to finish reading (or that I simply want to reread) on the top shelf of the row of bookcases in my office. Jerusalem is first on that list followed by some books by high school friends (Rogue's Curse by Jason Beymer and Soy Rakelson's children's books that I'm willing to bet everything I own as well as my life and my mother's life on that they're black and white morality tales with a super conservative and possibly Ayn Randian view of the world). After that is There Is No Year which Doom Bunny gave me because it's supposedly a terrible book that I'm not sure he even finished and which I wanted to make fun of (but, hey, maybe I'll love it!) and the rest: Inside the Yellow Submarine, Trixie Belden Mystery-Quiz Book #1, Don Quixote, Gravity's Rainbow, Lost in the Funhouse (reread!), A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, And the Ass Saw the Angel (by Nick Cave!), King's The Wind Through the Keyhole (A Dark Tower book!), Crime and Punishment, Hey Nostradamus!, The Best of H.P. Lovecraft, The Lore and Language of Schoolchildren, The Boomer Bible (re-re-re-re-re-re-re-re-read), Six Volumes of The Book of the Thousand Nights and a Night (finished with one and a half volumes after owning this set for twenty five years!), The Holy Bible (currently reading for my Patreon), The Norton Anthology of Modern Poetry (Second Edition) (because I need poetic context for the 20th century!), Only Revolutions, The Exegesis of Philip K. Dick, and The Familiar (currently just book one but there's going to be like nine hundred of them, so maybe I won't even bother!). Oh, and I just added We Learn Nothing (reread) and I Wrote This Book Because I Love You, both by Tim Kreider. I'll probably start with those because funny essays are easier to get through than anything by Dostoevsky, Danielewski, Pynchon, Cervantes, Barth, Joyce, or Sakelson! I mean Rakelson! Oh man. Rakelson would have a stroke if he knew I listed his name with all those postmodern authors! Not that they're all postmodern. You can figure out which ones are and aren't on your own. I'm busy reading New Titans #112 which must be good since Starfire is naked on the cover. Okay, almost naked. She is wearing a dickie and a belt. I know a lot of you just skipped that big paragraph while thinking, "Oh, la dee da! What a fancy book reader you are! Fucking virtue signaler! Or whatever the term for listing or showing off your reading list full of classic literary texts is! Seems like virtue signaler works well enough! Better even than what idiotic fuck nuggets use it for on Twitter anyway!" But maybe you missed the part about how those are books I haven't been able to get through yet! I've owned some of these books for over a decade! And I didn't even put The Collected Works of Gertrude Stein on this shelf because do I need to be reminded that I used that book more as an address book than something to read? Although I carried it with me everywhere I went for a year or two (which is why it's full of phone numbers and addresses!). And I really did want to read it. I didn't carry it around so people could think, "Look at him with that book! Who the fuck is Gertrude Stein? What a ponce!" Although to be fair, I did leave off a few books on my "to-read" shelf! But it wasn't because they weren't smart enough sounding! It's because they were comic books and also pornography and also also fucking hilarious.

One of my friends in the state department who learns a brand new language every four years or so bonded with me over Oglaf last time he visited. He was all, "I'm glad I know somebody I can share my love of Oglaf with and not be looked at like a completely demented perv!" Although I do look at him like he's a completely demented perv, I didn't need to admit it to his face!

I embrace my delusion that readers merely skipped "one" paragraph of my comic book "reviews"! This issue is called "A New Home" and my brain continued to add to that title with "o-erotic Journey." Mostly because of this panel:

Fairly certain "bamming" a baby is illegal, even in space.

The Titans (and I use that term loosely since the characters encompassed by that shorthand are Changeling, Red Star, Pantha, Baby, and Starfire) have been stranded on The Terraist's space station. That name probably could use a hyphen so you don't first read it as terRAIST twelve times thinking "What the fuck does that mean?" before your brain finally sees the God-awful pun and you give up, finally letting go of that last gossamer thread that's been connecting you to the reality you just discovered doesn't fucking matter. How can there be any meaning to existence when an editor greenlights the name "Terraist"? I'm sure Wolfman's pitch contained at least two dozen "Get it?!"s. Anyway, maybe most readers never even noticed, shrugging their shoulders at every single moment in which a comic book doesn't make sense because at least Starfire is practically naked throughout the last few issues! I have a theory that most people don't really absorb much of what they're reading in comic books. They tend to just love a character for some magic reason and stick with loving that character no matter what terrible writer winds up writing them. And at that point, they just ignore plot holes and inconsistencies and terrible dialogue and whatever the fuck Ann Nocenti does with her typewriter. They simply go star-eyed and gape lovingly at the drawn images of Dick Grayson's throbbing buttocks. That was a hypothetical sentence and not a memoir. Here's a panel with evidence that might lead to proof of my theory if I could actually interview anybody who read this comic book in 1994 and ask them, "Did you even notice this panel?" To which they would all probably respond, "No, I was distracted by the opposite page where you can see tons of Starfire's side-boob and I think one of her outer labia." Um, anyway, the panel I mentioned:

Damn, Marv. Beyond the Forest was nearly fifty years old at the time this comic came out.

To be fair to Wolfman and Changeling, I did an Internet search on "Whatta dump" (and, yes, I spelled it differently than Marv did) and the first hit was video of the scene where Bette Davis says the line. What's odd is that she delivers it flatter and straighter than anything I would have expected out of Bette Davis's eyes...I mean mouth. Gar's rendition of it is terrible! The way Bette says it, I would never think to spell it any way but "What a dump." But that's not the point! The point is how is "What a dump!" a immortal words?! Granted, you're probably now thinking to yourself, "Well, how did X and Y and Z become oft-quoted movie lines?!" (where X and Y and Z are actual phrases from movies and not just letters. But I'm not psychic so how should I know what terrible oft-quoted movie lines you were thinking of? Mine would have been "Seven schools in seven states and the only different is my locker combination" or "William H. Bonny. You are not a god?" "Why don't you pull the trigger and find out?" or "Ziggy Piggy! Ziggy Piggy! Ziggy Piggy! Ziggy Piggy!") I suppose one can't help what phrases the zeitgeist picks up on. According to the YouTube video of Bette Davis, "What a dump" is Bette's famous bitchy line from that movie I'd never heard of. I guess I just haven't traveled in the right circles! Although I have heard the phrase "What a dump!" Has everybody in the world been quoting Bette Davis all this time and I just didn't know it?! Was this movie the first time that phrase was ever uttered?! To think I could have known all of this if I hadn't been distracted by Starfire's side-boob and — I'm fairly certain — one of her outer labia. To shut Gar up, Starfire admits that she doesn't remember any of them and then she punches Pantha in her vagina.

Starfire punching Pantha in the vagina is funnier than anything that Pantha has said in the last forty issues.

After punching Pantha in the vagina, Starfire knees Red Star in the balls for no reason. Unless the reason is that she's been wanting to do that for a long time and her pretend amnesia allows her this moment! I suppose I'd fake amnesia too to get away from being a Titan. I've been joking about seeing Starfire's outer labia but is this it? Is that one of those things?

Is my boner proof that it's her labia or is my boner proof that I'm a comic book reading virgin nerd?

I can't wait for everybody to message me telling me how that can't be her outer labia because that's not where it would be and anyway this photographic proof I'm sending you is what one looks like! Then I can actually them and say, "Well, you can't know that for sure! She's an alien and maybe her outer labia is fully engorged due to Pantha back-fucking her!" Also I'd really enjoy some of that photographic evidence!

This is not what I would do with those photographs.

Garfield turns into another monster because he can't do birds and rhinos anymore. He lies on top of Starfire and then reveals something that destroys every moment in DC canon where Garfield turned into a rhino to knock some hugely muscled bad guy on their ass. He tells Red Star, "Hey, I may be big and ugly but my mass doesn't change! I'm not as strong as she is!" Well fuck me! The whole concept of Beast Boy has been based on a huge lie! Or at least scientific principles that make the character utterly worthless. Why the fuck would he ever change into a huge beast if his mass doesn't change? Wouldn't he always change into something small and fast to be most effective?! This revelation is one of those moments where DC tries to make their universe more logical but only winds up fucking up the entire multiverse. Red Star and Changeling knock Starfire unconscious and then tie her up which probably isn't totally rapey at all, even if the artist draws it that way.

Yep. Everything is just fine here! Move along.

Meanwhile on Earth, Arsenal, Aqualad, and Flash consider a proposal from the United States government to get the Titans to work for them. They consider it over a couple waters at a local strip club named Ding Dong Daddy's." I mean, the comic book calls it a "retro club" but everybody either gets a private lap dance or laid. It's hard to tell what Marv Wolfman was going for with this scene. Proof that the young cool Titan men fuck? Proof that women are only to provide relief for men's sexual desires? Proof that Aqualad should maybe think twice before saying "Hey guys! We came together!" when women are throwing their vaginas at them?

How long does Aqualad think a lap dance takes?

Back in space while the reader was away, Red Star and Changeling have managed to put a gag on Starfire and tie her legs together. That makes things less rapey, right? If not, I'm sure Marv will improve the situation in a sensitive and professional manner!

Oh come on!

Starfire remembers everything while Changeling whines about how he didn't get to kiss Starfire while she was tied up and scared and beaten and suffering from amnesia. Poor kid! Maybe next time! After regaining her memory, Starfire says, "X'hal! That was dick I saw in South America!" and I snicker like a twelve year old. The first decision Starfire makes after regaining her memory is that she and Dick should get their marriage annulled, if it even took which I'm pretty sure it didn't. If you were a fan of reading the letters pages, whoever the letter answer person was constantly kept pointing out that they couldn't be married because the priest blew up before he could say they were man and wife. But now Wolfman provides more evidence like how no paper work was filed and nobody signed anything (although don't you sign the papers before the ceremony?) Anyway, they're not married and probably never will be if the last twenty five years of reading comic books has taught me anything!

Snicker!

Baby has an idea to use The Terraist's satellite as their new headquarters and the government is all, "Okay! But you have to work with us on a minimum number of yearly missions!" And Roy Harper is all, "That number is zero!" And the government is all, "Yes sir! What a deal! We will pay you a salary, give you the satellite, and get nothing in return! Let's shake on it!"

Who the fuck is wearing The Flash's costume?! First appearance of New 52 Wally West?

The epilogue reveals Raven needs to rape the Titans so that they'll all give birth to Trigon's children. So it should be a fun few final issues before either this comic book was cancelled or I finally recovered my sanity and simply stopped buying it. New Titans #112 Rating: B. It was all kinds of stupid but I enjoyed making fun of it!

[idksheepthoughts]

RE: Conversation points...

1. Yes because I feel responsible for all misfortune because I am a demon within a human and the more humans I trick into being close to me and manipulate and have these powers to just make people tend to like me somehow??? Because idk what I did to obtain this power, perhaps it is Fel who is inside of me a demon and therefore just have always had this ability to get people to keep talking to me just by continued contact until they realize I am too toxic and then they leave?? I also just absorb any negative emotions from people I let in. I just do ??? But when I ignore shit you start getting guilt trippy that nobody interacts??? am I supposed to be upset or am I supposed to just accept that you’re experiencing emotions???? LIKE I don’t know???

2. Because people have unfriended me or blocked me etc before and we’ve continued like nothing happen until I noticed it. People are fake, people are always fake and lie to me. Its why I have trust issues. Its why im paranoid always and I just can’t ever tell if people are just taking advantage of me or not. It was an accident but still just like.. maybe tell me it accidently happen so I dont fucking explode like this in the future??? NAH???? just gonna let this sit and wait for me to find out and have me explode and be angry ????? maybe if you followed me you would know that this shit happen recently and maybe that i would connect those two things as being similar??? byut oh wait i dont really talk about my problems that much with you because ... what was it???? idk we mostly just bullshit around in our conversation and I try to fumble my way through trying to help or whatever the hell you want out of this friendship... idk anymore.

3. I was really intoxicated and it was hard to process so many words all at once while I was splitting on you and hating your entire guts at that very moment. Black and white thinking is a trait. I realize that it happens and i even said I’m splitting really early on in the conversation. So take things with a grain of salt. AGAIN trust issues and irrational thought patterns.

4. Was that not what I was doing at the very beginning of the conversation???? BUT you always respond in such a sarcastic hateful bitchy tone every fucking time i even ask a damn question. all your lol and lmao and shit. MAYBE IF YOU just told me ‘oh it was an accident my bad.’  in teh first place we wouldn’t fucking fight all the fucking time??? LIKE the way you rrespond just leads me to believe you dont give a shit. and i know you dont give a shit and i know this isn’t me assuming because you  cause you just respond like a fucking sarcastic mean person all the time all the fucking time all the fucking time all the fucking time all the god dman time you always do that always always always and it doesn’t help me want to be calm and shit. It makes me punch desk and almost a hole in the wall . desk is solid i can punch that over and over until my kunuckles bleed. which guess what i was doing while we had this convo. not that youll ever find this shit. and if you do HELLO (: 

5. It wouldn’t be a problem???? well clearly it is. again if you followed me or if you even knew me better you would know that being imagined or not abandoned in any from sends me into episodes!!!!!! and yeah i mentioned a lot of people because those people have been there for me. and i’m glad they are still fucking alive because everyone i fucking am close with seems to be just as damn suicidal as I am and wanting to die and could attempt at any time and I just wanted to do something nice for once and try and just ... idk ????????? and the fact that you responded how you did on twitter after i did that made me really upset. because all i wanted to do was be thankful for the people. which was the whole fucking point of the post.... like DAMN way to twist soemthing positive into something that would explode and escalate. perhaps it is my broken brain that does this but still...... you could have just idk ... thrown a like and been like thanks. no you make everything about you YOU YOU. how you dont have friends???? I’M SORRY i tried helping but nothing i said worked. So just keep trying?????? if you really wanted some friends use tinder and get fuckbois all damn day they are easily manipulated and you could just get fucked like you want and have someone. it wouldn’t be a good relatiosnhip like you want but it would probably fufill basic shit. But nah that be too easy. I always think to just suggest that. but it probably end up with you just... not following through and whatever. im off topic.

6. Trust issues, yes , paranoid??? yes, distorted sense of reality??? Easily fuck up interpersonal relationships because of disorders??? think so... I am fully aware that these behaviors are bad. I know its not good to do these thigns but also I can’t stop it?????? I can’t stop it without actually knowing how to stop it??? and that would require money? access to treatment. which i’ve told you tons of time to do and take advantage of while you are still covered by your fucking parents and school and all that shit because i didn’t when i was younger and now im more fucked up then ever (: (: (: (:

7. Yeah you have to hold my hand... i’m just fucking stupid, and need extra stuff. I’M NOT LIKE YOU AND I CAN’T perceive things easily. you have to just be blunt and explain things because I just need that to understand. ???? is that so burdensome???? that I just need to have things explained over and over. Sorry.......

8. I am grateful???? that was the whole point of the thing???????? of thanking people for being alive and putting up with my awful mess???? Side note. lmfao you are not capable of murder. I love that expression you cry when you’re angry you woudln’t be able to kill someone. I however fucking have.... whatever thinking too much. saying too much saying too much. it was self defense dont worry.

9. I dont think your life is dandy??? I know its hard! but what the fuck do i say??? I’m sorry your life is shitty, I know it sucks but please dont die? i’ve said that a lot before.... im a broken record that you seem to not like that all i say is the same things over and over????? I dont have a super fucking positive outlook i might actually kill myself sometime after the new year. I dont believe everything will be alright if you try your hardest. but i can sure as fuck lie and tell you exactly that. but when i dont believe it myself its hard to keep that lie going. (: (:  I know i told you i was proud of you for going to counselling that one time but as far as I know you haven’t followed up on that... like i never know how to give you affirmation that you are trying. Clearly you are. you are going to school and even managed to get a job too! you are trying very hard. and i noticed that but i guess i didn’t show it. Sorry im bad. i’m the worst.

10. your defining personality trait that makes me split really hard. I get that I should just have thicker skin. But I just don’t.... just whatever you wont change that aspect.

11. Schizophrenia..... Delusions?? yup.. pretty sure thats a symptom?? Unlike me you dont have that problem with you brain. congrats another way to belittle me for being alive. but also like you can be irrational as you want. I just wont keep i guess whatever trying to argue and be the rational voice anymore. you believe what you want im done trying to help. i can’t help i can’t help at all.

12 sorry... i’m a horrible friend. You should have just fuckign left already... all I do is ruin everything. I’m better off dead.

[dreweric]

June 2016, El Camino de Santiago, my Journey-of-Self-Discovery

Can I do this, Can I be my authentic self? 

My first week on the Camino was whirlwind of personal growth and self examination. I met a young man with whom I shared a deep bond. He helped facilitate my heart’s opening—something I desperately needed after my divorce.

Follow the link below for the blog about the young man and our bond: This is a story of two unlikely people forming a bond while walking El Camino de Santiago (The Way to Santiago)

I wrote three blogs called “I fall in love with a boy while walking The Way to Santiago Part I, II, III” They were all supposed to be about the bond between a young man and an older gay man.  However, the second blog took a turn, creating what I call my “Manifesto.”

In that original blog I wrote about my observation of his requirements/needs then I shined a spotlight on mine. I’ve included his requirements in my published blog above, so I won’t repeat them here in my “Manifesto.”

Something happened when I was writing that second blog. When I started writing about my requirements, my fingers started flying, pounding even, on the keyboard. It was as if each time I hit a key, I unearthed another pain, another source of anger. Then, like magic, the pain and anger were released into the Spanish air, never to darken my soul again. In that afternoon, I released my husband, I released friends, and I released my soul from the life debilitating pain of my past.

This is what I wrote that day in Spain:

Midway through the original blog… 

Speaking of requirements, I myself had a huge realization about my requirements. Here it is 12 days into my 500 mile walk from France to Santiago Spain and I’m still learning from what happened in the first few days.

I am going to get vulnerable and real. I am going to tell you my requirements. I am going to tell you about my authentic self. The reason I am telling you this upfront is because I want anyone who is not interested in learning more about my authentic self to stop reading and move on.  Unfriend me on Facebook, let’s not hang out.

I am realizing today I have my own requirements and I love that about myself. I offer you this, take a look at your own requirements; they reflect your authentic self.

For so many years I have tried to squelch my needs—to live for other people’s requirements and not my own. I actually tried to let my needs go in order to live inauthentically for others. I realize now how detrimental that is to my well being. I am not going to be a good fit for everyone. I am happy about that. If you are able to meet my requirements, then let’s hang out. If you aren’t, DO NOT ASK ME TO LET THEM GO. We are not a fit. I have needs; you will meet them or move on.

Here are my requirements/needs:

No food boundaries, I’m the kind of person who wants to take the first bite of food off your plate. 🙂

I am passionate about friends. They mean the world to me. If you call me your friend you will meet my needs, period. If you choose to not meet my needs but want to be my friend, we are not friends.

You will meet my needs, if I am hungry, feed me. If I am doing too much, help me. Be a partner in my life not an observer or critic.

I will take care of everyone around me. I will be nurturing, attentive and helpful. If you are the kind of person that is so independent that you won’t accept help, we are not a fit. I will no longer allow people to tell me to change this about myself. I am a natural nurturer, it is my passion, and it is my “Love Language” Non-negotiable!

I am a take-control leader. I will naturally fall into the leadership/project manager role. This clearly rubs some people the wrong way. I will not apologize for this, it is who I am.

I enjoy being challenged and pushed to grow. I require people to stand up to me and put me in my place if needed. If you let my large personality steam roll over you without a response, we are not a fit. I can feel your lack of response, I know something is not being said, I require you to speak up and challenge me. If this is not you, and you want to run from speaking your truth, then move on. It’s either challenge me, speak your truth or don’t talk to me.

Family is everything to me. I do not take the family feeling lightly. If you say we are family you need to mean it. Good, bad, ugly, nasty, warts and all. When the shit hits the fan and we are family, stand up with me and be a family. MAN UP. Find what needs to be done and do it.

Quality time is required. You must spend quality time with me doing any and everything. Let’s hold hands and watch a movie. Let’s do yoga together then skip down the street holding hands. Let’s share clothes. Let’s run errands. Let’s just be together.

I am not perfect! I will make mistakes! I will be a jerk; I will get excited and talk over you! I will sometimes not listen. I require you to tell me I am doing any or all of these things so I can adjust my behavior and be a better person but I will not tolerate people getting mad at me for not being perfect. I am loud and high energy and I make mistakes. Tell me to calm down and we will do fine. Get mad at me and hold a grudge, we are not a fit.

I require a flow of positive energy. If you are withholding in any way, we are not a fit. I can’t hang out with you. It doesn’t work for me. I need a constant flow of loving energy. If you are negative, bitchy or mean spirited, please walk on the other side of the street. Not a fit! I require love and will not accept anything less than loving energy. You can certainly get mad at me but after you process you need to come back with love in your heart.

Positivity is a must, no complaining, loving conversations work best for me. If you are the type of person to just simply complain, go away.

I love conversation about personal growth, life lessons and spirituality. If this makes you uncomfortable, please block me out of your life. My foundation is betterment for me and others, Non-negotiable.

I am dyslexic; I can’t spell, and make tons of incorrect word choices. If you are counting the mistakes in any of my writings, why the hell are you reading it? Go read DICKens.

THIS IS SO LIBERATING… I feel so much better getting this off my chest. I will no longer try to fit others needs or feel badly for being who I am. This is who I am, take me or leave me. I can certainly dial some things down to fit the needs at the moment and will. But do not ask me to stop any of my requirements because you are uncomfortable. You need to walk away, we are done here.

I am weird and needy and crazy. I love that about me. If you do too, please call me. Let’s share food and talk endless about ourselves. Let’s spend quality time together.

I have spent so many hours hanging out with people that don’t meet my requirements. If you are reading this and seeing yourself not meeting any of my requirements and you call yourself my friend, please take this as a warning. I am not interested in you anymore. No apologies, no regrets.

I met a young man who was weird, friendly, liked me for me and met many, many of my needs. He taught me I can attract the right people to my life. He helped me realize I can be me and people will still like me. He is a young straight guy who should technically not respond to my requirements. However, he stepped up to the plate, met my needs and still wanted to hang out with me.

That shocked the shit out of me. It made me believe in myself and made me believe there are people in the world who will like me. There are people in the world with similar requirements and similar needs; I just need to find them!

This story is about my falling in love with myself and falling in love with a straight boy who taught me to love myself. I am forever changed. I have him to thank. I have the Camino to thank. I have all the people who are not interested in me and my needs to thank. This is for all of you.

Take me as I am and I will love you too. This is my moment on the mountain. This is my “Manifesto”. This is me, raw and authentic.

I’m feeling this urge to say, if this isn’t you then “go fuck yourself.” but that would just be rude so I won’t. Wink 🙂 (Channeling my dear friend Laurie T.P. who loves the word fuck—she is fucking awesome)

P.S. Immediately after writing this I felt an enormous shit (I meant to type shift in the original blog post, you can see why I am leaving it now; it fits with my last requirement). A huge burden was released and I felt high as a kite. I realize I was harboring anger with all the “you need to change” people in life. I had real anger for the people who wanted me to “be different, be less me”.

Good news is I don’t need to be angry anymore. I can let them all go. They are not for me. I love myself too much to allow naysayers in my life. Are you with me? Is this you also?

  Sarah J.F.S.: I love your “weird, needy, crazy” self…glad to see you are learning to love that person too. And, as a side note…I remember sitting in a GLBX meeting with you, when we first met, and you leaning over and sharing my breakfast. It was ok with me then, and it’s ok with me now! LoL

Mark W.H.: I read Huge growth! Good for you😊 Just like the velveteen rabbit you ARE discovering what it feels to be real.

Tamara P.C.: Gotta be you … Everyone else is already taken. Sarah J.F.S: hat’s a great line, Tamara. This may just be my new mantra!

Anne S.B.: If you learn nothing else from your journey then it’s been a success. You should love yourself, especially if you’re weird!!!

Kimberly H.T.: We’ve only met once and I’m loving getting to know you better through these posts! When you come back to Fort Lauderdale I’d love for you to come eat off my plate!

Kitty U.: It’s funny, though we have been friends for many, many years, I realize as I read your posts how little I really have known you, though I suppose you might state that until recently you didn’t know yourself this well either. 😉 It’s been really interesting and cool to learn more about the person you are in the process of finding in yourself. Thank you for sharing Drew!

Annaleah P.M.: Wow. How evolved for you to have not only identified, but articulated what you need. Yay for you, my friend. P.S. Read you P.S. I snickered a bit. You probably felt a ‘shift’??

Laurie T.P.: I fuckin Love this. I got chills reading this and laughed out loud when I read my name. You inspire me in so many ways. And I’m exactly the same as you in so many ways. Especially about the food. That’s me! Your journey is a blessing to so many. You are helping us or at least me learn more about myself through your experience and beautiful words. I can’t put the book down. I want more! With happy tears flowing. I’m honored to be your friend. And I Fuckin Love you!! Xoxo

My Manifesto! June 2016, El Camino de Santiago, my Journey-of-Self-Discovery Can I do this, Can I be my authentic self?