#smoked a blunt and got existential

[maraudersmary]

i think that i am so grateful for fandoms and the like because it has genuinely helped me become who i am. i realised i was not fully a girl because of dorcas meadowes. i became comfortable in my sexuality because of marlene mckinnon. i learnt how to be strong and a woman and proud of that fact because of lily evans. i learnt to love myself so wholly and without guilt because of mary macdonald. i learnt that i can be loved from sirius black. i learnt how to be myself because of remus lupin. i understood that sometimes i need to put myself first because of james potter. i came to terms with the fact that everything and i are ever changing because of peter pettigrew.

but most of all i have learnt and understood all this because of the fandom. the fic writers who breathe life into these characters (i mean they don’t even fucking exist in canon) and made them who they are. the headcanoners and people who share their theory’s/ideas who fire my love and build these characters brick by brick. the artists who bring them to life. the people who simply talk about them. everyone involved <3333

like not being funny if i didn’t have this to escape to i don’t know how i would survive honestly and i certainly wouldn’t know myself and be so comfortable in that and im so thankful for that to everyone

i don’t even know how i ended up here four years ago i had never even watched harry potter… i had interests this intense before (see: holby city) but this is the first time i’ve found community in that (and im not even like someone who talks to people and has moots) (do people still say moot or is it all oomf now??) (im only 19 not 75 i promise)

[lovergirlsdumpster]

first adlerbell fic! inspired by Mitski's song 'Your Best American Girl'.

'That which I am (not).' in ao3.

pairing: russell adler/bell (nb)

tags: angst, guilt, implied relationships, ambiguous relationships, emotional hurt/comfort, light angst, angst with a happy ending, existential dread, songfic, song: your best american girl, one shot.

summary: Bell's got a conflict with themselves for not being able to live up to Adler's expectations.

notes: Adler's dialogue is OOC, because he's saying what Bell wants to hear.

The whistle of the nighttime wind filled the silence between Bell and Adler as they walked toward the car, another mission in Berlin behind them. Something as simple as that woman’s comment—just a casual remark congratulating Bell and Adler—had spiraled into this.

“You’re a strong, determined duo, agents. Like good American soldiers.”

The city lights stretched out in the distance, an artificial constellation that felt almost alien, as though it belonged to another world. Bell, hands buried in their pockets, felt the invisible weight of their identity, their roots, their very self colliding with Adler’s presence—solid, resolute, like an extension of the very American soil beneath their feet.

"You alright, Bell?” Adler asked without looking at them, lighting a cigarette.

Bell nodded, and muttered some shitty non-committal answer, though the knot in their throat and their silence told another story.

“You haven’t said a word since we left the base. If there’s something you need to say, now’s the time.” Adler had a way of saying things—direct, almost blunt, but with a hidden concern Bell had learned to recognize. Or maybe, they liked to think it was there.

“It’s complicated,” they muttered, not stopping. “Maybe even stupid.”

Adler exhaled slowly, watching the smoke dissipate into the cold air. “Don’t make me guess, Bell.” They both stopped. The silence that followed was almost tangible, and when Bell finally spoke, their voice was low, as if refusing to let the words be ripped from their throat.

“Have you ever felt like… no matter how hard you try, you’ll never be enough? Like you’re always out of place.” Adler turned to look at them, but Bell avoided his gaze.

“Does this have to do with the mission? You did what you had to do. It was clean. Precise. You—”

“No,” Bell interrupted, shaking their head, and immediately raised a hand in apology. “It’s not about the mission. It’s about you. About me. About what we are… or aren’t.”

Adler blinked, taken aback. “What the hell are you talking about, Bell?” His words came out with a hint of irritation. Clearly, this was making him question things he had already established in his mind—and Adler hated that. Bell was someone that constantly shifted his views of the world. He didn't particularly like to be kept on his toes around an agent.

“About what you always try to ignore,” Bell said, crossing their arms. “I’m from Russia, Adler. And I’m not… I’m not what this country expects me to be. I’m not what you expect me to be.” Adler opened his mouth to protest, but Bell raised a hand to stop him. “Let me finish,” they said, raising an eyebrow. Adler returned the gesture, silently agreeing.

“I spend every day trying to fit into this world, your rules, your idea of how someone like me should be. But it’ll never be enough. No matter how hard I try, I’ll never be whatever you need me to be — because I don't fucking know what is it you want me to be, because I'm everything, all at once. You wanted a woman yesterday, so I dressed up as a woman. Today you want a man, so I dressed up as a man." There truly is no easy way to say this crap, Bell thinks, but they're already too deep in this to backpedal. "And it hurts. It hurts because…” Bell paused, swallowing hard, “because I want to be. I want to fit into your life, into your vision of the world. But I can’t.”

Bell let out a sigh. “Do you realize? Even now, I’m thinking about what you want. If I’m a man or a woman. If I’m whatever you expect me to be, or not.” That's who I've been boiled down to. To whoever you want me to be.

Adler dropped his cigarette to the ground and crushed it under his foot. “Bell, I don’t need you to fit into anything. I don’t expect you to be something you’re not.”

“Really?” they replied with a bitter laugh. “Then why do I feel like I’m always failing you? Like I’ll never be enough for you.”

The atmosphere grew heavy—awkward, uncomfortable—and for a moment, Adler didn’t know what to say. His hands, so used to holding weapons firmly, now hung awkwardly at his sides, unable to find the right words.

Finally, he spoke, though there was a hint of… hesitation? Doubt? in his tone.

“Bell… I grew up in a world where things were clear. There was a right way to do things, to live. And you… you challenge all of that. I won’t lie to you—it’s not easy for me. But not because there’s something wrong with you. It’s because I’m learning to see the world differently.”

Bell looked up, searching for any dishonesty in Adler’s gaze. And it made them feel worse—they found more vulnerability than anything else.

“I care about you,” Adler continued, his voice firm. “And I care about who you are. I don’t care where you come from or how you fit into this country’s expectations. I care about what I see in you—what you are when you’re with me.”

The wind seemed to pause for a moment, letting his words settle between them. Bell took a deep breath, feeling the pressure in their chest start to ease, if only slightly.

“And what do you see?” they asked, their voice barely above a whisper.

Adler stepped forward, closing the distance between them. “I see someone who’s survived more than anyone should have to. Someone who fights for what they believe in, even when it’s hard. I see someone who doesn’t need to change for anyone. And that includes me.”

Silence returned, but this time, it wasn’t uncomfortable. Bell looked at Adler, searching for something in his eyes—and found it: sincerity.

“I’m not easy to understand either, you know?” Adler added, a half-smile briefly softening his features.

Bell smiled too, just barely, but it was enough to break the tension.

“Maybe neither of us is,” they admitted with a small shrug.

“Maybe.” Adler turned toward the car and opened the passenger door. “Shall we?”

Bell nodded and climbed into the car. As they drove down the empty road, the city lights grew smaller on the horizon.

Adler turned on the radio, and a soft melody filled the air. Bell recognized the song, and though they didn’t say anything, something inside them shifted.

They didn’t need to do any of the things they’d thought. They didn’t need to fit in.

In that moment, as the car disappeared into the night, they understood that staying true to themselves was all that mattered. And, for now, that was enough.

[creaturecomfxrts]

↟ ⚘ 𖥧 South Park college headcanons 𖥧 ⚘ ↟

excuse my janky ass formatting and disorganized notes 😭

KENNY

✦ pansexual

✦ PLAYBOY. INSANE RIZZ

✦ body count is insane he just thinks its funny though

✦ actually really really sweet and considerate

✦ never fixed his gap tooth 🫶

✦ always remembers birthdays

✦ scars everyyywhere like Everywhere

✦ haphazard wolfcut that he trims himself bc hashtag no money

✦ full ride scholarship, works his ASS off on schoolwork and two jobs and yet still has time to party

✦ literally nobody knows how he does it

✦ still loves wearing big jackets, doesnt get a lot of new clothes often so almost all of his shit is hand patched up

✦ supremely unlucky (trips and shatters phone screen ass shit)

✦ angel wing tats on shoulderblades

✦ LOVES weed. does not drink at all

✦ probably has done LSD and shrooms

✦ parents are extremely proud of him, he doesn’t go home very often but keeps in touch

✦ got them a phone so that they can text him!!! he saved up for a whole year to get it bc he missed his sister

✦ pierced his own ears also gave himself snake bites

✦ pierced stans ears (stan cried)

✦ small smattering of freckles! only come out in the summer

✦ doesn’t hang out with stan as often on his own bc he doesnt like how bad his drinking has gotten :(

✦ loves decimating cartman in call of duty

✦ listens to BROCKHAMPTON and doja cat (and ABBA but only with butters)

STAN

✦ raging alcoholic

✦ existential + clingy drunk

✦ grows stubble really fast, shaves when he feels like it

✦ eyebags for dayysss

✦ beauty marks! has a lot on his face and shoulders

✦ smokes weed w/ kyle and kenny (cartman isn’t invited anymore bc he hogs the blunt)

✦ only gets his schoolwork done wasted because he cant get himself to do it sober

✦ PTSD + severe depression

✦ bisexual as fuck my god

✦ emo LMFAOOOO wears a lot of muted tones, ripped jeans, sweaters, hoodies. so many beanies

✦ also smokes nic 😔

✦ probly a business major

✦ tried hookups, doesnt really care for them

✦ plays bass!!

✦ internalized homophobia but its okay hes growing

✦ had/has a phase where he’ll bleach and dye his hair and the rest of the gang look forward to it bc its always something new (always keeps the black roots)

✦ really bitter about just. everything

✦ STILL hates medical shit and hospitals got alcohol poisoning and REFUUSSEDDD to go kyle was frantic

✦ so many random ass tattoos including a paw + date memorial tattoo for sparky :((

✦ gets really anxious when not drunk

✦ listens to tally hall, will wood and mother mother

KYLE

✦ keeps his hair at a tameable length bc he tried growing it out a little in highschool and it just went up and outward. never again

✦ got fed up one day in senior year and completely buzzed it. it was that week stan realized he was bi 💀

✦ not reeaaallly jewish anymore respects tradition but rlly could care less

✦ SO. MANY. FRECKLES.

✦ pale asf burns if he sees sunlight

✦ flushes TOMATO red when he gets even a little flustered or nervous and its so funny

✦ occasionally will accidently speak like his mom (whatwhatWHAAAT) and proceed to death glare anyone who looks like theyre going to comment on it

✦ hides his face in his hands when he gets embarrassed to replace his hat which he used to use the side flaps to bury his face in (it makes him feel hidden)

✦ weekly facetime calls with ike to see how he is because he misses him so much

✦ undeclared for like half the college experience

✦ uncomfy at parties, ends up usually tailing stan and kenny to them but only if stan comes

✦ childhood crush on stan he still hasnt gotten over 😔

✦ really likes working w/ kids but you would NEVER guess by looking at him

✦ massive fucking growth spurt hes an absolute 6’5 twig

✦ ADHD as fuck gets overwhelmed by schoolwork a lot, stan helps but hes really bad at directions when hes drunk so it doesnt really go anywhere

✦ anger issues, still HATES cartman, only tolerates him around bc hes funny sometimes to laugh at also hes rich and all of them could benefit from that lmao

✦ gets into fights still, got into a lot in highschool and less so in college but still seen as a hothead

✦ not buff but can absolutely hold his own

✦ still likes painting :) does it in his own time bc he feels like a sissy (his own words) stan loves them and has like 3 of his paintings either at home or in his dorm

CARTMAN

✦ college dropout LMFAOOOO

✦ his family is just. rich

✦ his mom remarried this fucking crazy rich dude so he still lives w/ his mom

✦ forced to go to community college

✦ actually has lost weight! not too much but he got fed up with it and is at a healthier size, his mom keeps trying to push mlm diets on him though 💀

✦ twitch streamer, keeps getting banned for slurs, not necessarily a lolcow, closest example i csn think of would be like uhhh jake paul mixed with schlatt? he has a pretty genuine following but. SO many haters

✦ kenny occasionally joins him in streams over the summer when he doesnt have schoolwork (chat LOVES him)

✦ has every console

✦ has also probably broken every console

✦ a LITTLE more compassionate, gives the rest of the gang fat checks for their bdays (probably to make himself feel like he has a moral compass after how much hes bullied kenny for being poor)

✦ still listens to kanye west 💀 and to drake or any other popular rapper

CRAIG

✦ obsessed w space + NASA

✦ majoring in that field, always busy with like. hardddd work (finds it interesting though he speeds thru it. autism is one helluva drug)

✦ plays so much minecraft. probably has built an accurate scale solar system on there

✦ autistic as fuck

✦ voice is less nasally but he has a flat affect

✦ ceiling stars in his college dorm. he put them up the first day

✦ one of the only kids to still wear his hat, or at least a new hat thats so similar to his old one

✦ beanies will suffice if chullo is dirty

✦ unlike stan, he actually has soft and not gross hat hair

✦ space tattoos + a woodstock tattoo (they remind him of tweek so much he had to (tweeks matching))

✦ still dating tweek, right out of college they move in together

✦ smuggled a cat into his dorm junior year

✦ def listens to tv girl

✦ that one hot quiet dude in every class and when girls find out hes dating tweek (its so obvious he has them as his lockscreen and his picture in his wallet) they are absolutely gobsmacked

✦ completely unphased by this, kenny had to tell him that girls were into him for him to notice

✦ follows space discovery news like a boomer with politics, if a new planet is discovered he will not shut UP abt it

✦ knows a suspicious amount about astrology despite saying he doesnt care abt it

TWEEK

✦ to match w craig tweek has a TINY snoopy tattoo he almost cried while getting bc he was so nervous

✦ severe OCD, CPTSD, and anxiety from his entire living situation

✦ found out abt the meth situation in middle school, massively traumatizing

✦ lived w/ craig for a while while court proceedings happened

✦ had to go to rehab after the arrest bc he went thru withdrawal

✦ substance free for the last 5 years!

✦ took him a long time to seperate coffee and meth as sononymous, drinks decaf and sweet coffees now bc he does like the taste

✦ incredibly easily scared and really jumpy, calms down completely only around craig and is at ease with all of his friends, with strangers he gets overwhelmed so quick

✦ hes pretty bad paranoia over poisoning in his food and drink, craig usually will take the first bite or sip to help him feel better

✦ got into cooking so he can make his own meals from scratch, loves meal prep! (hes rlly rlly good. so tastey)

[bbylersgirl]

Sneek peak (All I feel is free now)

.·:¨¨ ≈☆≈ ¨¨:·.

Smoke clouds filled Mike's room. bringing a sour smell to his nose. To put it lightly, Mike has not been doing well for the past year. He rarely goes out and hangs out with friends, he's falling behind in school and has picked up a smoking habit. He has the occasional “drink till you black out and forget everything” days and the somewhat frequent “Stay in your bed and overthink till you throw up” hours. The only consistent thing in his life right now is existential dread, loathing, and of course, weed. Which by the way, is not a good combo. He really doesn’t know when it got to this point, but as his sits in his bed, taking hits of his now short blunt, he can’t help but think he has been building up to being this shell of a person for a long time. Whether it started when he was a kid or just a year ago he doesn’t know. All he knows is that this was gods plan, to have him suffer in silence for the rest of his life. He puts the blunt out on the burnt corner of his dresser and throws it out the window. He starts getting ready for school. Not bothering to shower or change out of his pajamas. He zips a gray hoodie over everything, slips on vans, and heads out the door. Not grabbing anything for breakfast even if his mother is calling for him.

“MICHEAL! YOU NEED TO EAT SOMETHING!”

Mike ignores it and gets in his car, driving to Hawkins high.

.·:¨¨ ≈☆≈ ¨¨:·.

I made this while listening to reckless driving and free now on repeat and i'm pretty sure it shows lol

[denimbex1986]

'It’s perplexing. Who thought that it would be a good idea to pair the premieres of the films, Oppenheimer with Barbie? Ultraviolence (I am become the God of Death — Bim-Bam-Boom!) and Ultrasex (in the guise of some toy’s anatomical incorrectness being solved by Margot Robbie’s Babylonian generosities). Do we need another sign that it’s over for human civilization? That the twin allures of Das Kapital have finally found a way to make us munch popcorn and weep to Oppie’s loss of national security status because he once had pinko ties, and that Robbie has bravely taken pink Barbie out of anorexia nervosa and hangs out with the horns of plenty now. Why no GI Joe, sporting a new 3D printer dick, included in the flick for Margot to bivouac with?

That’s the mainstream for you. They’ve totally bought into the America yin-and-yang, sex and death, just as Freud feared in Civilization and Discontents. Popcorning to a nuke movie. How about that! We just can’t take anything seriously any more, can we?

Pssst. What? Not anatomically corrected? Then why would you go to that movie? Is it a nod of homage to the non-binary orientalists? Is it some kind of an AI inside joke? A fist-up stand of solidarity for poor old Alan Turing and the Singularity ahead? Or is it just omnipotence versus impotence? What a double bill.

Naturally, what’s left of the Left have been wringing their hands, and playing old Dylan tunes again, in disgust at how wrong Hollywood got it. Oppenheimer should represent an important ‘teaching moment,’ as they say, for those of us who have a tendency to forget, and look at Jewish friends with bewilderment when they say, “Never again.” Whaddya mean, Isaac? we go. And they schlep off, muttering at the wall.

I watched Oppenheimer yesterday. The story has been told a number of times now. This particular version, directed by Christopher Nolan (Interstellar, Inception), is based upon the 2006 Pulitzer Prize-winning biography American Prometheus by Kai Bird and Martin Sherwin. It stars Cillan Murphy as J. Robert Oppenheimer; Emily Blunt as Kitty Oppenheimer; Florence Pugh as Jean Tatlock; Matt Damon as General Leslie Groves; Robert Downey as Lewis Strauss; Tom Conti as Albert Einstein; Kenneth Branaugh as Niels Bohr; Jason Clarke as Roger Robb; and, Matthias Schweighöfer as Werner Heisenberger. It’s a stellar cast for the Blast from the past (although it might have benefitted from casting the late great Philip Seymour Hoffman as General Grove). It’s an epic biographical thriller; but it’s too vanilla, and I feel that all that hellfire and angst(roms) should have broken my heart in twain for the last time. But, as Peggy Lee might have sang “Is That All There Is To An Atom Bomb Blast?”

Oppenheimer follows the Bird/Sherwin delineation and begins at the end of his career. In December 1953, the Atomic Energy Commission had suspended Oppenheimer’s security clearance, and a few weeks later revoked it, fearing that, although he could be regarded as a loyal American citizen, his past affiliations with communists, as well as his post-Hiroshima speeches regarding the need to control nuclear proliferation through UN measures, roiled rightwing militarists and political fascists, such as Senator Joseph McCarthy — and president Harry Truman, who referred to him as a “crybaby.” Their decision was influenced by an FBI report that stated that “more probably than not J. Robert Oppenheimer is an agent of the Soviet Union.” The three-hour film attempts to honor Oppie’s request to weigh his existential being in the totality of his life, rather than with reactionary jibes and jingoism.

The AEC move meant Oppenheimer could not work or know about future nuclear weapons projects, but more importantly the widely-publicized rebuke to his legacy as the Father of the Atomic Bomb left his name blackened and his mood blue. The full frontal assault led by Washington lawyer Roger Robb, known for his “ferocious cross-examination” technique, and played typecastically by Jason Clarke, who had us believin’ in torture from his role in Zero Dark Thirty. As the authors of American Prometheus put it:

In assaulting his politics and his professional judgments—his life and his values really—Oppenheimer’s critics in 1954 exposed many aspects of his character: his ambitions and insecurities, his brilliance and naïveté, his determination and fearfulness, his stoicism and his bewilderment.

This deeply contradictory and, yet, serene and highly literate Oppie is what director Christopher Nolan tries to capture in the film. Recently, Cillan Murphy summed up Oppie and how he approached the role of playing the enigma, whose rationale for continuing to develop the Bomb was the counter-intuitive notion that it would make war obsolete: “I do think that he believed it would be the weapon to end all wars,” Murphy recently told NME. “He thought that [having the bomb] would motivate countries to form a sort of nuclear world governance. He was naive.” Indeed, the United Nations has proven futile to stop the dominators amongst nation-states from nuclear proliferation. In the film, in a scene just following the successful explosion of the atom bomb (that’ll end all war), Oppie is talking with Edward Teller, when the former says he hopes that the message sent is that ‘all war is now unthinkable,’ but Teller immediately responds that, yes, maybe, ‘until a bigger bomb comes along’. Teller would go on to become The Father of the Hydrogen Bomb, a super fusion bomb 1000 times more powerful than the one dropped on Hiroshima.

Unfortunately, for my enjoyment of the movie, I’d read other accounts of the relationship between Teller and Oppenheimer. Daniel Ellsberg, for instance, who wrote in his last book before he died, The Doomsday Machine: Confessions of a Nuclear War Planner — the book he says he wished he’d been able to get out before the Pentagon Papers — that when he came out of seeing Dr. Strangelove with a buddy they were convinced they’d just watched “a documentary,” and writes Ellsberg, “Teller was, along with Kahn, Henry Kissinger, and the former Nazi missile designer Wernher von Braun, one of Kubrick’s inspirations for the character of Dr. Strangelove, who wore, uncomfortably, the Glove that Vice President Dick Cheney would find the need to take off, but who was entirely self-satisfied with in the end. We got very little of this tension, or frisson, if you will, in the film. Director Nolan goes with “naive,” thereby painting all lefty rhetoric since the Double-Tap on Japan as ignorance of realpolitik.

A major question at the time of the development of the Bomb at Los Alamos was the actual urgency of its need. It has been presumed by politicians and military figures, and fed to the public for consumption, over the decades that the Bomb Chase was to get there before the Nazis did; that the prospect was real that if the Germans developed and used the device first it could have taken out the British and the Russians, ending the war a different way and leaving the world with the prospect of rule by super-fascists. Certainly the V2 rockets, already devastating London, were seen as a more terrifying delivery system for any super bomb.

In The Doomsday Machine, Ellsberg actually paints a different picture and suggests that he opposed its immediate development, in part, due to the safety concerns that were being reflected in droll bets being made before the test of Trinity. In June 1942, Ellsberg writes, Albert Speer and Hitler were discussing the feasibility of the Bomb and whether it could done safely:

Actually, Professor Heisenberg had not given any final answer to my question whether a successful nuclear fission could be kept under control with absolute certainty or might continue as a chain reaction. Hitler was plainly not delighted with the possibility that the earth under his rule be transformed into a glowing star. [Following this discussion, Speer reported,] “on the suggestion of the nuclear physicists we scuttled the project to develop an atom bomb … after I had again queried them about deadlines and been told that we could not count on anything for three or four years.”

Essentially, Ellsberg writes, Hitler saw no urgency, while the US and Oppenheimer forged on with the WMD.

In Heisenberg’s War, author Thomas Powers, discusses the Myth of the German Bomb, and ponders why the project fizzled despite the genius of Werner Heisenberg. In June 1942, would-be Vater of Der Fuhrer Bomb deflated some Nazi bagpipes when discussing a bomb’s likelihood. Powers writes:

If we want to know why there was no German bomb, nor even any serious program to build one, we must decide why Heisenberg gave this advice…Was Heisenberg’s advice no more, no less, than his considered opinion, honestly given in the hope of sparing Germany an expensive technical folly? Or did Heisenberg deliberately take advantage of the moment, his prestige, and the uncertainties of an untried science to prick the balloon of official hopes?

Oppenheimer had met Heisenberg and Teller had taken his doctorate in physics under him. Hmm.

Oppenheimer fails on another front miserably and, now, loudly. Nolan chose to enact the famous Oppie quote from the Bhagavad-Gita in a way that the writers of American Prometheus probably would have found misleading, let’s say, and which, some Hindus were said to be deeply offended by. The quote we have heard over and over from Oppie-mism is: “I am become Death, Destroyer of worlds.” Nice sound byte. But it is a quote from The Song of God, which, in American Prometheus, Oppenheimer describes as “the most beautiful philosophical song existing in any known tongue.” But, in Nolan’s film, Oppie, while screwing Jean Tatlock, his then girlfriend, an aspiring psychiatrist, is forced to read (in translation) the stanza embedding the quote directly, while she rides his meat pony to heaven like Belle Starr and he constellates her firmament with, um, time-stars...Hmph.

Nolan might have explored Oppenheimer’s deeper inner mythopoesis not only by more fully contextualizing “the most beautiful philosophical song,” and showing how it applies to the problem at hand. He was also digging on John Donne. I’ve been there, done that; I understand how that can happen. Oppie was drawn to the Holy Sonnets, to the Trinity (he named his Bomb project after it), and, in particular, the “Batter My Heart” one, which I just love to death. It goes on about the hopelessness of being a sinner and the need to be ravished and bodily owned by the Lord; in short, it advocates consensual moral rape. Nolan’s having none of that. In American Prometheus, we find out that Oppenheimer had read TS Eliot’s “The Wasteland,” too. And while Oppie is shown briefly reading it in the film, it gets no further fob; it’s just a gesture to the more literate in the cinema crowd, who might go, dig it, man. I hate lilacs, too, man. Hell, the authors of America Prometheus even describe how Eliot came to Princeton on a short term fellowship at Oppie’s behest, during which the poet wrote The Cocktail Party (“the worst thing he ever wrote,” opines Oppie, in the book) and avoided such faculty parties while at Princeton. Nope. Too highbrow to explore. Welcome to messy Democracy and its Discontents.

Oppenheimer was nominated for the Nobel Prize for physics three times, in 1946, 1951 and 1967. He was never awarded the prize, but many physicists believe that he should have been. Oppenheimer’s work on atoms was groundbreaking. He was one of the first scientists to understand the nature of positrons, and he made significant contributions to the development of quantum mechanics. His work on black holes was also highly influential. In 1939, he and his student Hartland Snyder published a paper that laid out the basic properties of black holes. This paper was one of the first to describe how a star could collapse under its own gravity to form a black hole. I Am Become Death Twice.

Preceding Oppenheimer’s release by just a couple of weeks was another Oppenheimer film (documentary) that appeared on NBC, To End All War: Oppenheimer & the Atomic Bomb. The PBS Ken Burns-ish feel doesn’t have the manipulative soundtrack, or the wonder-filled moment at how They pulled off that Bomb explosion on film without CGI, or the titty sexual romps of Oppie riding two women (tragic as a molecule fissioning), or the play to the plebs for entertainment rather than factuality. But To End All War does have a nice compact story that unfurls over a mere 83 minutes. And everybody plays themselves. Including, surprise, surprise, Christopher Nolan, brought in to talk Oppie. And I would recommend that shorter doco over the epic tragedy of the Left’s demise.

The Barbieheimer phenomenon is bizarre, as already duly noted. Now I ‘ve just read that Oppenheimer star Cillan Murphy has announced his willingness to be a Ken in the next Barbie movie. More Big Bang for the Buck. Ee-haaa! And what sacred text will he despoil in that one?!'

[thefvrious]

"No. Not unless you want to be on an episode of Nineteen Kids and Counting." Riley teased, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly. His smile was still on 1000 watts, though, so he wasn't all that annoyed, or at least didn't let it show. "You've got plenty of time to meet your future in-laws." He continued without missing a beat, patting Alfie's forearm — if this was the joke, he would play along. Especially if it made either of the older men irritated. Any attention was good attention, wasn't it?

"God, so you do remember what it's like?" He teased, all teeth and gums and shining hazel eyes. He felt his pulse quicken — a rarity for him — when Alfie finally met his gaze. It was like winning a prize. He dragged his teeth over his bottom lip. "I'm two steps away from an existential crisis, I think." He teased, accepting the blunt and taking his own two drags before ashing it into a mostly empty water bottle and handing it back.

As Riley exhaled his smoke and Alfie spoke, the younger scoffed loudly. "Excuse me, I do not kiss ass! Unless I have to." He laughed again, "There's just something about you... you know, I didn't think I'd give half a shit." He confessed. He'd never tried this before, anyway, had never been interested enough to try to get a taste of the fame that came along with fraternizing with the rockstars they interviewed on occasion. "You're the most beautiful man I've ever seen. Excuse me if I want to soak that up while it's in my town." He shrugged, finishing his drink. "You wanna have some fun or are you confined to the bus with the other geriatrics?"

The compliments didn't register much with Alfie. They were the same kind he'd heard a million times. He offered a nod and a little grin. Everything lately had just felt so....boring. He had trouble getting the energy to write, let alone tour and promote the album. Still there was something different now, wasn't there? Shouldn't he enjoy being fawned over?

"I'm Alfie." he agreed with another nod. "You're forward, hm? Inviting me to meet your parents already? That's refreshing." he couldn't help but to chuckle, forcing himself to relax some. A few sips of the strong drink seemed to help. Maybe the kid would know where to find some stronger too.

"Twenty-five, hm? Tired of people calling you a baby but also afraid to be considered old, yeah? Or was that just me." he murmured, taking another long puff when it was his turn. His eyes dropped to watch where their thighs met, a soft hum escaping him. "Right. Thank you." he said, letting his dark eyes finally really meet the others. "You don't have to kiss this much ass, you know. You're cute enough without it."

[rymndsmth]

kyoto 3 (tangerine)

you gain some answers and more questions from tangerine. 18+. prev

He smelled like a warm, crackling fire. Hints of tobacco, a little bit of vanilla. Exquisite and classic. You turned to press your face into his chest. His strong arms circled you, holding you close. 

Tangerine ran his index finger up your bare spine, fine hairs on the back of your neck standing tall and firm. Salt licked your tongue as you placed a kiss to his skin, and then another. He chuckled, tilting your head upwards to meet his gaze despite the darkness. 

This isn’t real, love.

I know. Just…stay. 

You don’t know why you dreamt of him that night. Subconscious stuff, maybe, running into him two days in a row. It left you feeling uneasy. Not so much the fact that he was there, but the nature of it. The intimacy. 

Clouds hung low in the sky. You could see the sun behind them, thrashing and struggling to break through. The thin pre-roll you’d scored the night before turned over between your fingers as you sat on the fire escape, metal digging into the backs of your thighs.

What would you do today? All that walking had left the soles of your feet aching, but you still had the desire to see more. Maybe you’d step into the first shop you saw with a help wanted sign, and get a job. 

Not that you needed one, at least at the moment. Your living expenses were paid in advanced for some time thanks to daddy dearest, and you’d been frugal with the money you made doing extracurriculars. 

Having something to report to every day could help. People, though you weren’t sure who, could take notice of you floating about and start to ask questions. With a job, you could build a cover around why you were in town. 

If you were being honest with yourself, you would admit that the real reason this even crossed your mind was to keep your hands clean. It would be best to leave all that shit in the past behind. 

If you were to be completely genuine, however, you would admit that no legal employment could ever satiate your tastes. That was one seriously fucked up inherited trait you’d never read about. 

You smoked halfway through the blunt, opting to save the rest for later when you felt less existential. A quick shower and outfit change later found your boots meeting the pavement yet again without purpose.

And again, you ran into the man of the hour. Or seconds, or minutes. However much time he decided you were worth sparing today. In his navy suit, he sat by the window. Sticking out like a sore thumb in attire, but not demeanor.

“How was the date?” You slid into the conveniently empty seat beside his. 

“Got a little bloody.” Tangerine ran a finger over the edge of his steaming mug.

The motion made your muscles tense, the dream flooding back into your memory. A flick of your eyes upwards brought your attention to his face. There was the slightest bruise forming at his temple, spots of yellow and purple. Your hands found themselves curling in an effort not to reach out. 

“None of it being yours I hope.” You sighed, leaning back.

He smiled at that, “Not a drop.”

Good, you breathed. And then you thought about why you would care. You didn’t know him to be concerned in any way, so why did you? Moreover, this conversation was far removed from normal. 

Though heavily doused in insinuations, it was clear to you and him what was being said. This also might’ve confirmed a feeling you had. That he might be just the thing you were looking for. And that made whatever the fuck this was that much more exciting. You had to know more.

“What exactly do you do, Tangerine?” You stole a sip of his coffee and instantly regretted it. Espresso, double shot.

“A little this and that.” He perked up, seemingly amused at your question. “Procurement, delivery, and if you’re really nice…” His hand crawled along the table to take his cup back. “I might even butcher for you.”

“And was your date nice?” You swallowed thickly.

The dabbling you’d done exposed you to a lot. Drugs and guns were one thing, but the bodies that came in this line of work were another. They were a harrowing reminder that a single step out of line could mean that someone like him was going to show up on your doorstep. 

“Why don’t you ask me what you really want to?” Tangerine flicked his wrist, taking note of the time. 

You blinked, stunned by his sudden forwardness. Also, you weren’t entirely certain what he was getting at. There were a shit ton of things you wanted to know about him to the point where you didn’t know where to begin. 

Do you start from yesterday? He never exactly told you if he was following you or not. Do you dig even deeper? He surely has a real name, and it was only fair that he told you his after knowing yours. 

“I-“ You fidgeted with your dangling sleeves. 

Tangerine huffed, taking a hearty sip of his coffee. He stood up and buttoned his blazer in the middle. All the options were scrambling around in your head now, immobilizing you.  

“Good seeing you, sweetheart.” His hand gave your shoulder a squeeze. 

Another memory flash in your mind, except this one was all too real. A rush of heat across your face left you breathing shallowly, shooting to your feet with the fear that he would slip away too far to catch this time. 

“Why did you-“ You started and then looked around.

The few other people in the cafe weren’t exactly the kind of company you wanted to hash this out in front of. You took the hand that was on your shoulder, pulling him through the building until you found some sort of supply closet near the back. It was surprisingly spacious, the kind of place you’d probably use to disappear during your shift if you worked here. 

“Where were you? When the train stopped, I mean.” You leaned against the door. 

Tangerine tilted his head back, looking down at you. “I left.”

“You left?” You deadpanned. 

There he went again giving you yet another puzzle to join the million question pile. You swore at this point that the man was a bag of walking riddles, probably the offspring of a trickster faerie you read about as a kid if they existed.

He nodded, walking closer to where you stood. “I wasn’t supposed to fuck you, but I’m not the best at denying myself what I want.”

His blue eyes seemed to swallow you whole as he leaned in, one hand placed on the wood above your head and the other falling to your waist. You curled your finger into one of his chains with your gaze still fixed on his. 

“Why?” You bit your lip.

Belatedly, you realized that you hadn’t specified which part of his statement that question was referring to. An answer for both parts would be nice though. Who set those rules, and why? You also were confident, but not delusional. Why did he want you of all people so badly to break those rules? 

“You, my little artist, are making shit very complicated.” Tangerine bumped his nose into yours, lips dipping almost too quickly for you to register the kiss. 

Typical of him to not elaborate in any coherent way. You’d get your answers though. For now, all you wanted to do was let this thing that was coiling inside of you spring free. 

“No, Tang.” You shook your head. “We are.” 

He made small sound, something between an inhale and a tsk. The hand that was on your waist travelled lower with his eyes on yours the entire time. You held his gaze challengingly, your breathing catching in your throat at the contact of his cold rings against your bare thigh.

His tongue darted out to the corner of his top lip. There was nothing but mischief in his expression, observing the way you reacted to his touch. A slight pinch formed between your brows when you felt the tips of his fingers graze just barely over your panties. Still, you managed to keep your eyes zeroed in on his. 

Tangerine didn’t seem to be a fan of your rebellion. He curled his fingers, pressing the fabric against your already soaking core. There was no stopping the obscene moan that fell past your lips, your hips bucking for more. 

“There she is.” He purred. 

You didn’t have time to bite back with some smart reply. His mouth was on yours in a flash, tongue parting your lips to mark its claim. The kiss was deep and hungry. He took what he wanted from you, leaving you breathless when he pulled away. 

And when he saw your heavy lidded gaze and friction plumped lips, he did it all over again. Your hips rolled over his digits, begging. Satisfied with your submission, Tangerine gave you some relief. He pushed your wet underwear aside to part your folds with his fingers. 

“Fuck…please.” You whimpered, head falling back against the door.

He took that as an open invitation to claim your neck with soft bites and kisses.

“Tell me, love.” His tongue ran along your jumping pulse point. 

“Please make me cum.” Your eyes completely lost focus. 

Tangerine circled your clit and you swore you saw stars. In any other scenario, you would’ve been embarrassed at how quickly you were falling apart. It was different with him though. One sweep of his icy eyes over you was enough to turn your spark into flame. 

He could have you any way, any time he wanted. You knew that, and he knew that too. It was a thought that leveled you, how something unspoken could be understood so quickly. It was the reason why you were a mess right now before him. 

His index and middle fingers stretched your pussy open, thumb taking over on your sensitive bud. He beckoned to you, calling you, pulling you. There was no resistance on your end. You came to him. Closer and closer. And then you came for him. 

Your hands fell to his shoulders, squeezing the thick material of his blazers as you touched bliss. Hard contractions squeezed his fingers within your soft walls while you shook and cried out. 

“Lock the door.” Tangerine breathed into your mouth.

Through your haze, you managed to reach back and fulfill his request. As soon as it was done, he was plucking you from your feet as if you were made of nothing. You didn’t even have time to hang on before he placed you on the windowsill and pulled your hips to the very edge. 

He cupped your cheek in one hand, bringing your face to his. Tangerine licked your lips before prodding his tongue between them to run against your own. Your hands tangled into his soft hair, tugging as you rolled your hips against his pant straining erection. 

Tangerine shuddered, losing a bit of his composure while fumbling to free his cock. It was a quick thrust that left your eyes widening, tears beginning to prick at their edges, when he entered you. 

He let out a growl that left your toes curling against his hips. Fuck, yes, fuck, fuck. You chanted, head falling limply to the side. A woman possessed was the only thing that could describe your state. You were lost in your senes, overwhelmed with his thick cock dragging through your walls, his woodsy scent in your nose. Ears filled with his soft grunts and praises.  Pretty little pussy taking me so well. 

You seized around him, biting down until your mouth flooded with copper as you came. Tangerine moaned, blue eyes nearly black with blown out pupils while he watched you writhe. His cocked fucked with increasing force into you until his hips staggered to his own release. 

Your forehead pressed to his, lips leaning in to catch his between shuddering breaths. There was nothing going through your mind at all. Nothing except him. The mischievous slant of his mouth, those eyes reminiscent of oceans. You were so thoroughly fucked out that you felt as if you had temporary amnesia. Unable to remember anything before him. 

“You’re gonna be a good girl for me,” Tangerine pulled out and pressed your thighs together. “And keep that in all day, right?” 

He could’ve asked you to drop a body right then and there and you would’ve responded the same way. With a nod, a small yes leaving your lips. He ran a thumb along your bottom lip, satisfied. 

taglist:  @noz4a2 @simpforbuckyb @marshmelloyellow02

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and Dating J.D.

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous and @poruchik-logy​)

(Sorry about the inactivity lately. With the holidays coming up, I’ve been a bit busy. Plus, I’ve written a post or two on my other blogs which means no post on this one. Anyways, hope you enjoy!)

- You meet J.D. when he transfers to your school. You’re in study hall when you just so happen to look up and make eye contact with the boy while glancing around the room. 

- For the rest of the period, you feel like someone's watching you, and lo and behold, every time you sneak a glance his way, his eyes are on you. He doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he was looking, he just raises an eyebrow at you when you turn and meet his gaze. 

- You spot him in the lunchroom later that day and ask your friends about him though they don’t have much information besides his name and where he moved from which they got from one of their teachers forcing him to introduce himself to the class. He was a mystery …and boy were you intrigued. 

- You have your first conversation at the local Snappy Snack Shack. You’d just popped in to grab a little junk food, only to find him stalking through the store in his black trench coat. You figured you’d dance around each other until one of you left but before you knew it, he’d sauntered up to you and interjected that you looked familiar. 

- Before you knew it, the two of you had introduced yourselves and began a sort of flirtatious conversation. He bought you a slushy and offered you a ride home on his bike which you coyly accepted after a moment of nervous hesitation. 

- It was that same night that he returned to your house, rapping at your window and damn near giving you a heart attack. Even though it was terrifying at first, it was also sort of endearing and you soon found yourself joining him outside.

- Now, It’s your choice whether or not you sleep together that night. If you do then consider yourself kissed and claimed from then on. If you don’t, he’ll continue to show up at your house or hang around you at school until he gets what he wants. You. 

- You suppose that your first date happened at the Snack Shack so from then on, the two of you were sort of seeing each other. Well, one of his favorite things to do with you is not be at home so the two of you were hanging out in an empty lot.

- The sun went down and you were sitting in the dark, the glow of the moon being the only thing lighting up your date. You were sitting down and he was lingering on his feet somewhere behind him, sorta pacing from what you could hear. 

- He knelt down beside you and you turned your head to look at him, only to immediately get pulled into a kiss that all but had you melt into the floor. It was passionate and somewhat rough, exactly what you’d expect from him. And you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

- Well, he most certainly isn’t letting you go after that. I hope you like him babe because you’re not getting rid of him anytime soon. 

- This man is fully willing to makeout with you in public. So yeah, there’s a lot of Pda.

- His hands are pretty much on you at all times.

- Pecks on the lips. He loves when you just give him a kiss for no reason at all.

- Rough, passionate kisses. He asserts his dominance by hooking his arms around you and pulling you into a searing kiss until you can’t breathe.

- He definitely calls you “woman” and a ton of other pet names ranging from cute to just plain annoying. 

- He never would have imagined a girl like you would actually put up with him for so long …but boy is he thankful you have.

- He’s a little shit and that’s just something you’ll have to live with. He’s blunt, conniving and sarcastic, but he does care about you.

- He pretends like he doesn’t give a shit a lot of the time but he does, more than he cares to admit.

- Surprisingly enough, JD actually really likes cuddling. You’ll usually lay with your legs intertwined and your head resting against his chest while he wraps his arms tight around you. 

-  Jason's father sort of ignores him, they aren’t very close and certainly not close enough to be sharing affection besides; maybe, a pat on he back or something similar. So he craves attention and affection.

- He yearns for you to touch and love him but he doesn’t know how to tell you that he wants you to suffocate him with your own body. He’ll just try to repeat whatever it is he did to make you touch him or touch you until you do something to him.

- Hugs from behind.

- Husky whispers in your ear. He does it on purpose because he knows what it does to you.

- Motorcycle rides. 

- Trying to get him to quit smoking. It never actually works but he; somewhat, tries to cut down on it for your sake. He thinks the fact that you care is sorta amusing. 

- Cutting class together.

- Going shooting with him. The beer bottles and porcelain plates kind of shooting, not the Ram and Kurt kind of shooting. 

- Dark humor. Although, sometimes you genuinely don’t know if he’s joking or not. 

- He can always seem to make you laugh, even if it makes you feel guilty to laugh at some off the stuff he says.

-  Hearing an alarming amount of gun and bomb facts. 

- Going to Snappys Snack Shack with him.

- Junk food binges.

- He’s kind of a stalker if I’m being honest. He follows you around without you knowing, finds out everything he can about you, etc. You’re sort of like an obsession of his and that can be good or bad depending on the situation and to what extent you know about his feelings. 

- He knows practically everything about you, ranging from your birthday to where you are at pretty much any given time.

- He’s not too great at all that lovey dovey shit but he tries. It might take him a little while to get the hang of it but he eventually will. 

- Getting him to play the sax for you.

- Having his hand on your thigh whenever he’s driving. 

- Making out.

- Hickeys.

- He likes when you wear his clothes, it’s like marking his territory without getting in trouble for making your neck different colors.

- Listening to morbid music.

- Deep existential conversations. What else do you talk about with your girlfriend besides the meaning of life and why society will ultimately cave in and destroy itself in a violent revolt?

- Late night phone calls from him. Be prepared to rush to your landline at three a.m. so that you don’t wake up your parents. You can’t even really be mad at him because he’ll just immediately launch into either a spiel about how he missed you or ask what your opinion on Manchurian candidates are; successfully silencing you in bewilderment. 

- Getting random knocks at your window whenever he decides he just has to see you. 

- Your parents either love or hate him, there is no inbetween. He’s generally pretty good at playing the role of the upstanding young man who cares a lot about their daughter; that parts real of course, but occasionally a parent will just get a bad vibe from him and his charade; though convincing, just won’t work on them. 

- If that’s the case with your parents then you’ll sort of be forced to sneak out if you want to see him, which he’s particularly good at helping you do. 

- Getting kept away from his father. He tries to keep your interactions to a minimum, especially if you have a much different personality than to the man.

- Incredibly jealous though he’ll always try to hide just how upset whatever situation you’re in makes him. He makes jokes and “forgets about it” as soon as you join his side, convincingly acting like nothing happened or that he saw nothing wrong with it but staying up the rest of the night wondering what he can do about it. 

- Possessive. You’re each others, aren’t you? He’s yours and you’re his. Everybody belongs to someone and the two of you belong to one another. 

- Is he protective? What do you think? If you ever complain about a person bothering you, he’ll almost immediately ask if you want him to kill them. You think it’s a joke. It’s not. 

- Although it may seem like he does things just for his own benefit, he would genuinely do anything you ask of him. Sometimes he’ll surprise you with the lengths that he goes to make your life easier and happier. 

- He’s hot tempered and kind of an asshole so the two of you are; most likely, almost constantly fighting. You’ll usually be yelling at each other or arguing passionately which is a problem because he thinks you’re hot when you’re angry. He’ll usually wind up trying to kiss you which succeeds in making things worse and having you give him the silent treatment/break up. 

- He tries his best to give you your space but the instant you want him back, he’s all over you. He usually never actually apologizes but he doesn’t force you to when you’re in the wrong either so you suppose it’s fair. 

- I love you’s are few and far between. He doesn’t really want to make himself seem too vulnerable so you only get them on rare occasions. 

- The two of you tend to not talk about the future. He wants to be with you forever; which is obvious, and he wants you to be his; which is also obvious. But you don’t know if you’re entirely sure you can handle him. So, you try to just enjoy the time you’re spending together and not think about how things may end. 

- You’re either the Bonnie to his Clyde or his blissfully unaware darling. Pick your poison. 

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

What Would You Do If I Told You | JJ Maybank

Add yourself to my taglist! | Here’s my masterlist!

Requested: Yes/No

A/N: Just something I came up with while listening to La La by The Cab. 

Pairing: Fem!Reader x JJ Maybank

Song(s) used: Based off La La by The Cab 

Warnings: some cursing, mention of a deadbeat dad, almost physical fight, drug use, underage drinking, no editing

Words: 2,909

There it was again, that drumming in his chest, like an army marching on his heart. Every time she was around him, it was the same thing. Whether she was just chatting with Kiara and Sarah, giggling along with some Kooky rumor they had told her or her smoking a blunt, … Even as they just sat in silence, JJ would feel his heart pounding in his chest. 

There was nothing he could do. He just gravitated towards her. It had been like that since the first day y/n joined the Pogues. He remembered that day like it was just yesterday when Sarah introduced the Pogues to her childhood summer camp best friend. The girl had moved to Kildare Island after living on the mainland for years. Though y/n was technically a Kook as she lived on Figure Eight, she fit right in with the Pogues. 

It was the way she carried herself with all that confidence and no-nonsense attitude that drew JJ to her in the first place. No – scratch that – it was the fact that the first thing she had said to JJ was something to make fun of him. 

He had pulled a flirty “How you doin’?”, to which y/n replied with a “That’s not gonna work on me, Joey Tribbiani.” The sass dripped off her lips as she referenced one of JJ’s favorite tv shows growing up. 

Since then, he’s been all heart beating faster and nervous giggles whenever she looked at him for too long or said something even remotely sassy. He couldn’t help it. She was like the moon, pulling on him. 

He’d do anything for just one dance with her, she just had to say the word. One word and she’d be his favorite one-night-stand. One word and he’d be all hers. 

It had been two years now since y/n joined the Pogues. Two years of JJ pining over her. Two years of her completely disregarding his feelings for her. Two years of the other Pogues trying to get the two together, but failing miserably. 

“What would you do if I told you I got you a job?” y/n spoke as she plopped down on the sofa next to JJ whilst he was smoking a blunt. Her slender fingers picked the cigarette from between his fingers and put it in her own mouth, taking a drag. 

Their “What would you do if I told you” game was something they played daily. Something of theirs. Something no one else knew how it even came about. It happened one day when they were sharing a blunt and y/n started asking these questions, starting with ‘what would you do if I told you’, adding more and more profoundly existential bullshit as the night went on. Ever since then, the two had made it a game to go back and forth, asking each other these questions. 

The higher they got, the weirder the questions got. 

JJ’s blue orbs flickered when he watched her. “I would ask you how much it pays and what’s the job?” 

“In that order?” she questioned, blowing out the smoke and handing the blunt back. 

“Yep,” he responded and took another drag himself. 

Y/N let out a chuckle. “It pays enough… And you’re gonna be a waiter!” 

JJ regarded her for a moment, suspicious about this job offer she was giving him. “Where?” The heavy knot forming in his stomach told him he wasn’t going to love the location of this job, but he knew he was going to have to do it anyway. He needed the money. 

Grimacing, y/n said, “Midsummer’s.” She knew how much JJ hated working for the Kooks on Figure Eight, especially a party like Midsummer’s. But he also knew y/n was going to be there and that made it all worthwhile. 

“You’re gonna be there?” he asked and she nodded. “Then count me in.” 

Y/N let out an excited squeal before kissing his cheek gratefully. “You’re the best, JJ! My dad was going to kill me if I didn’t get more waiters on staff – Ooh! Do you think I could ask Pope and John B too?” 

JJ's heart sank a little. Of course he wasn’t the only one she was going to ask. Of course he couldn’t be her hero-without-a-cape, saving a damsel in distress. This wasn’t y/n asking him to come to Midsummer’s because she wanted to see him. This was just to appease daddy dear. 

“Yeah, you could ask,” JJ mumbled and took another drag from his joint. 

The girl nodded and stood up from the couch. “Yeah, I’m gonna do that – hey,” JJ looked up at her again, his breath hitching in his throat when he saw how the light caught y/n’s best features, making her look like an angel. “Thank you. I’ll see you tonight, yeah? Put that gorgeous suit on that you wore last time at that Kook event.” 

“I will. I’ll see you tonight, Cupcake.” 

He caught y/n’s nose scrunch before she turned and walked away, leaving him to wonder what the nose scrunch meant. After two years, he had caught her doing it a few times, for different reasons. 

Every time he called her ‘Cupcake’ – nose scrunch. 

Every time he shot her a compliment – nose scrunch. 

It was one of the cutest habits y/n had. Another thing that had him fall head over heels in love with her. It made him want to call her Cupcake or give her all the compliments, just to see that nose scrunch again. 

He would give anything to be the reason behind the nose scrunch. 

Even though he didn’t quite know what she meant by it. 

JJ, Pope and John B had been at the party for about an hour before the first party-goers arrived. All of the stuck-up rich Kooks assembled on and around the dancefloor with extravagant gowns and tuxedos, making the Pogue boys feel less than about their own outfits. All of theirs were hand-me-downs from their fathers or a rented tux from y/n’s older brother. 

However, they knew Midsummer’s was just a way for them to network with other rich families and show off their wealth. Something JJ knew y/n found disgusting and didn’t want to take part in. She just attended because her parents made her. 

The blonde boy handed out the cocktails on his tray when something caught his eye – or more like someone caught his eye. He would always sense her presence in a room, it was kind of getting weird; like a sixth sense or something. But this time around, he could barely breathe when his eyes landed on her. 

She was dressed in an emerald green dress with thin spaghetti straps and the cups around her breasts bedazzled with small glittering pearls. He could tell the bodice was partly see-through mesh, even from a good few feet away. The tulle skirt slithered down her legs, flowing in the slight wind that had picked up. She looked magnificent.

“Holy f–” he whispered, but stopped when he noticed the man he had just given a drink to glare at him. “Father – Was just saying a prayer there. Enjoy your drink, Sir.” He patted the man’s shoulder before dashing off towards the bar to calm himself down. 

“What’s up, Pogue?” Rafe’s voice turned his heated heart stonecold. “Already drank one too many?” JJ slowly stood up straight and turned to face the three Kooks he hated most of all – Rafe, Topper and Kelce. “You’re gonna end up just like your dad like this.” 

Those words triggered JJ more than anything and Rafe knew that. Which was why he wasn’t too surprised when the blonde Pogue grabbed him by his crisp white collar. He was panting hard, his eyes filled with fiery rage. 

“Calm down, Pogue, you don’t wanna make a scene, now do ya?” 

JJ’s hand balled up into a fist, his arm lifting up to get a good punch in when someone grabbed onto his bicep, pulling the limb down again. His eyes met hers. The bright glistening orbs calmed his rage, diminished the fire in his eyes. 

“He’s not worth it, J,” she whispered. JJ let go of the Kook, who straightened his tux jacket, grinning from ear to ear as he witnessed what was happening before him. 

Chuckling, he said, “Damn, y/n, you got this Pogue wrapped all around your slutty finger.” JJ immediately lashed out again, but y/n quickly placed herself between the two boys. 

“JJ, don’t. I’ve got this.” She pulled his jacket straight before turning around to face Rafe. She gave him a honey-sweet smile, stepping closer towards him until they stood chest-to-chest. “Rafe, honey,” she started and straightened the boy’s bowtie before placing her hand flat against his chest, sliding down until she reached his junk. Squeezing ever so slightly, the boy yelped. “Leave the Pogues alone and go fuck yourself.” 

She let go of him and then pushed him away from her friends and towards their families as they were chatting amongst one another. JJ watched as she walked away with Rafe, Topper and Kelce, muttering things at them that didn’t seem to consist of the kindest words.   

“You good, man?” Pope asked, placing his empty tray on the bar, having seen everything that had transpired. 

JJ glanced up at Pope, then back at the y/l/n family, greeting all the other Kooks. “She looks so fucking gorgeous, man. Every time I see her, it’s like a symphony in my head and I can’t get it to stop.” 

“You have to tell her.” 

“I can’t tell her, man.” Pope raised an eyebrow at his best friend. “How do I even begin to tell her? Like, ‘Hey y/n, what would you do if I told you that I lo–” he quickly shut himself up when the gorgeous woman in emerald green approached the boys again. “La la la,” he quickly hummed, finishing his sentence as though he was singing Pope a song. 

“You boys serenading each other now?” she giggled, causing JJ to go a little weak in the knees. She dusted JJ’s jacket off and straightened his tie for him, her eyes searching his for some sort of answer. “Could I get a vodka soda, please? Really need to drown all this bullshit–” she glanced at the party in front of her. 

Pope shot JJ a knowing glance before grabbing new drinks and heading out into the crowd with them. JJ knew he had to tell y/n at some point. It would kill him if he didn’t at least have one night with her. Though to pick up enough courage to do it, he was going to need something to drown his doubts and worries. 

“What if I told you I got something better to drown this bullshit out?” he asked her and reached into the pocket of his vest, pulling out a spliff. Y/N’s eyes glistened as she eyed the object between his fingers. “Let’s go,” he whispered before grabbing her hand and dragging her through the party to somewhere a little more secluded. 

Lucious giggles filled the summer air, seeping into JJ’s brain and filling it with glee. He wanted to hear that laugh every moment of every day. He wanted to be the reason for her laughing. He wanted to be a lot of things for her. But there’s a vast difference between wanting something and actually getting it. If life were that easy, he’d be living on Figure Eight, going full Kook, living in a giant mansion with y/n. He would treat her like the absolute queen she was. 

“So,” y/n started whilst JJ put the joint between his lips and lit it. They had taken a seat on a white wooden bench on the side of the building. “What would you do if I told you I had killed somebody and I needed your help getting rid of the body?” 

JJ chuckled, inhaled and, while blowing out the smoke, handed the cigarette to y/n. “I would grab my keys and help you load it up in the trunk, throwing it into the marsh or something – or maybe bleach. Bleach has done the trick many times before. – No questions asked.” 

“That’s a best friend right there,” y/n laughed but she didn’t notice as JJ’s face fell. Of course. The friend zone. 

“What would you do if I told you…” JJ trailed off, trying to think of the next question. “Christmas was cancelled this year?” 

Y/N gasped. “You can’t cancel Christmas!” 

“But I did, so what’chu doing about it?” 

Taking another drag, she smirked. “Ask John B or Pope to help me hide your body.” 

JJ’s jaw dropped as he stared at her, feigning shock. “How’s that fair?!” 

“You’re the one cancelling Christmas. You know I love Christmas!” 

JJ snatched the cigarette out of y/n’s hand, mumbling, “Don’t have to kill me for it.” 

A vicious giggle erupted from her lips before she continued their game. “What would you do if I told you I’m joining a band?” 

“I’d ask what instrument you’d play.” 

“Drums.” 

“Drums?”

“Yeah, drums,” she nodded. “Is that so hard to imagine?” 

She probably shouldn’t have asked him that question because now he was imagining it. Her hair loose, a lazy smirk playing on her lips as she played the instrument with so much passion. It was the most attractive thing he had ever imagined. Even more so than when she told him about that time she and her dad were fixing up the old Chevrolet in their garage. The idea of her grease-stained skin and her bending over the car – it had been his main source for his latest dreams. But now he had a new one. 

“It is actually,” he finally responded, earning a smack on the chest from an offended y/n. “What?! I just don’t think you’d be a good drummer, that’s all!” 

“I could be a good drummer!” she offered, a tone of disappointment in her voice. 

“No, you wouldn’t be, Cupcake.” He noticed her nose scrunching upward before she turned towards him. “Remember when you tried airdrumming to that one song by The Cab? You couldn’t even do that!” 

“Hey! Airdrumming is hard!” she countered and while she tried to stay serious, the corners of her mouth twitched ever so slightly, telling JJ that she was about to burst out laughing. JJ was the first to, and had y/n follow his example straight away. 

Their laughter filled the air, drowning out the noise from the party. They had long forgotten about the Kook party that had been going on behind them, engulfed in each other’s company. JJ loved these kinds of moments with her, where they’d just completely forget about everything that was happening around them and it was just the two of them, sharing a spliff, talking. Being with y/n was like coming home. A home he had never had. A home where he felt safe and like he could be himself. A home unlike another. 

His heart was going to burst if he didn’t tell her now. 

“What would you do if I told you I loved you?” he blurted out without thinking twice about it. 

Y/N’s laughter died down, her lips parting ever so slightly as though her breath had hitched in her throat. “Of course you love me,” she said nonchalantly. “We’ve been best friends for two years. Would surprise me if you didn’t.” 

JJ groaned and stood up from the bench. “No, I don’t mean like friends, y/n.” He moved over to the banister that surrounded the porch. “I mean I’m crazily and stupidly in love with you and have been since you called me Joey Tribbiani that first day.” He sighed and turned back around, facing her. She hadn’t moved. The only thing about her moving were her eyelashes, blinking rapidly as she listened to him. “What would you do if I told you I was desperately in love with you?” 

“I would say ‘finally’,” she shot up from her seat and launched herself into his arms, connecting their lips together in a deep, love-filled kiss. It had the same flair and same urgency as all those fairytale kisses. It felt magical. Something JJ had been dreaming of for years. 

Y/N pulled away for a moment, trailing her hand up into his hair and combing her fingers through the strands at the nape of his neck. JJ had his eyes still closed, relishing in the lingering feeling of her lips on his. Then her giggle pulled him out of his trance and it was like he was still dreaming. This would not have happened in real life. He wouldn’t have believed it was real until y/n spoke the following words. 

“What would you do if I kissed you again?” 

Smiling, JJ dipped down and kissed her again instead. This wasn’t a dream. All of this was real. She was there and kissing him. Y/N Y/L/N was kissing JJ Maybank. After two years of pining over her. After two years of wanting to be this close to her. 

There it was again, that drumming in his chest, like an army marching on his heart.

Everything Taglist:  @bonobos-candy-bar @calamitykaty​ @littlemissaddict​ @n0wornever​ @phantompogues​ @praetorofthelegion @sweetpeasturtleneck @wanniiieeee​ @sunsetwilson​ @crybabyddl​

Outer Banks Taglist:  @kaitieskidmore1​ @chefjakedebrusk​

TAGLIST |  MASTERLIST 

[mackmontgomerys]

Mack doesn’t know how he ended up here. Not in an existential sense — honestly, some questions were too big and if he wandered down that rabbit hole he would end up spelunking down a blackhole — just in the now.

Sparking his zippo and cupping his hand over the flame so it caught the end of the joint he rolled rather than extinguishing should have been just that, but his mind wandered as the spliff end caught flame and Fiona moved closer to him.

By some series of I’ll thought out decisions he found himself in a town quainter than the one he had grown up in, in a band that felt more like family than his blood relatives and in the presence of a girl who felt so alive to him sometimes that it made the world around her seem dull in comparison.

“You serious?” He says around the end of the joint, plucking it from his lips and exhaling the half inhale he had taken.

“Duh, I will. There’s 0 hot bitches in L.A.” That on its own was a lie. “Not hot like you at least. They’re like, Jessica Rabbit hot. You see them on Instagram and you’re like goddamn but then you see them in real life, no filter, no airbrush, no Remini and you’re bonechilled. Just like when Jessica Rabbit turns back into a rabbit. Or did she just marry one? Whatever, you know what I’m saying, right? You’re real life hot. Honestly fucking throws me sometimes like damn.”

It was for the best that they had never figured out what, if anything, they were. Even without any concrete idea, it wasn’t lost on him that he was the one punching.

Mack shifts his body then to accommodate his arm moving around her shoulders and the stretch his legs out as best as he could in front of him in the limited space, the park architect or whatever clearly hadn’t considered long legged cryptids in their design ideas.

“Plus, no way I could ever link up with someone as creative as us. We’re like sex masterminds, but with heart. That time I was a gladiator and you were a neglected Dominus’ wife? That got me and not just in the pants.” If his hand wasn’t held out offering her a toke of the blunt, he’d have kissed his fist and thrown a deuce to the sky for Mackximus and Fionalia and their ill-fated love.

His focus can’t help but drift from her to the ominous opening to the slide while she smoked, a combination of the hour, the weed and his mind working overtime in unison.

“You know, if this was a Stephen King movie, the second we make out is when some janky looking third cousin of Pennywise the clown would grab me by the ankle and yank me down to whatever sewed lair they got going on under the town.”

As if to both test his theory and tempt fate, he scuffed the bottom of his right Jordan 1 clad foot against the edge of it as if to beckon a lurking beast to try it.

location: riverview park for: @mackmontgomery

Mack caters to her whims, which isn’t something that’s always easy for Fiona to find in another person, especially one she’s sleeping with.

He checks a whole lot of boxes. She thinks she checks a lot of boxes for him, too.

Tonight, the whim had come to her almost immediately after they’d fucked (she in a slutty maid outfit this time, Mack playing the part of rich-dude-fucking-his-maid, of course), and she’d barely given them time to change before it was out the door and over to Riverview Park.

At nearly midnight, as it is now, the place is completely deserted and they need the flashlights on their phones to climb up on the jungle gym without breaking their necks. It’s worth it, though, as it had always been when she was a teenager.

Sitting with their backs to the railing and the black hole of a tunnel slide right next to them, Fiona presses into Mack’s side, watching intently as he lights up a joint for them.

“When you guys, like, actually get famous,” she says, “you’ll still come back and play mermaid and sailor with me sometimes, right? No matter what hot bitches you meet?”

[jemej3m]

trial (objection p.2)

i love htgawm connor is such a problem child

*

“So your father was already incapacitated when you murdered him,” Andrew deduced, leaning back in his chair. He spun the land-line’s coiled cord around his finger, looking over the ceiling sconces of his office. The place was definitely built at least half a century ago, and the remnants of its previous occupations were everywhere, from the covered-up fireman pole holes to the sound-proofed insulation.

“When I killed him out of self-defence, yes,” Neil returned. His portion of the conversation would always be under surveillance. 

“Way to make my job harder, Wesninski.” 

“What good would I be, otherwise?” he retorted. “Also, please don’t call me that. I’m figuring out a new last name. How does Neil Smith sound?” 

“Dreadfully boring,” Andrew said. “Don’t say that word. I don’t like it.” 

“Which one, exactly?” 

Andrew grit his teeth. “Please.” It still sent shudders down his spine. “There’s no time for pleasantries.” 

“Fine,” the man said. “Is that all you wanted to waste my time on? The position my father was found in, when I - when he died?” 

“Considering that there are extremely graphic photos of his predicament for the jury to gawk at, yes. How is it self-defence if there’s no threat?” 

“He wasn’t cuffed there: I was. The DNA evidence was tampered with to remove traces of the skin tissue that the cuffs had scraped away. Have you even looked at those photos? His wrists are clearly free. I thought you were talking about the eyes.” 

“What about them?” Andrew hedged. 

“They’re gouged out,” Neil muttered. “I hate that our eyes are - were - the same.” 

“You did that whilst the two of you were fighting,” Andrew suggested. “Unless its clear you did it with a knife?” 

“All I had was his cleaver,” Neil said. “I used the handle. That’d look like fingers, right?”

“Right,” Andrew agreed, just as Wymack appeared at his doorway. 

“Could you keep the gruesome mutilation discussions off the worklines?” the old man demanded. “Matt just threw up into Dan’s paper-shredder.” 

“I’ll have to call you back,” Andrew said, vastly unimpressed. 

“I was going to say,” Neil said, sounding vaguely amused. “You have quite a stomach. Till next time, Andrew.”

“Bye, Neil.” 

Wymack had his arms crossed when Andrew threw the phone back onto the receiver, his glower shrouded and unknowable. 

Andrew gave it right back to him, refusing to stand as he mirrored Wymack’s stance. “What?” 

“First you viciously reject the case,” he said. “Then you drive to see him. Now you’re calling him every day?” 

“He’s in prison,” Andrew said. “I can’t just invite him over to interview him and gather evidence.”

“There is no valid reason for you to buddy up to Wesninski like this,” Wymack objected. “You barely speak to your clients unless they’re escapin’ juvie.” 

“You’re asking no questions, so I’ll give no answers,” Andrew responded cheerfully. “Have a nice day, boss.”

Wymack pointed at him. “No murder talk on the worklines. Three strikes and you’re out, Andrew.”

Andrew swivelled back around in his chair, knowing true and well Wymack had warned him about upwards of 72 different infringements of people’s delicate psyche. He had a job to do: if someone got in his way, he wasn’t going to be nice about it. 

Not for the first time, he wondered if Neil had a contraband mobile phone. It’d make his life a hell of a lot easier. For about twenty minutes he scrolled aimlessly through emails from desperate idiots convicted of white-collar crime, simultaneously considering how he might get a mobile phone to Neil next time he visited. He could go on the weekend, after Nicky’s godforsaken family night. 

Oh, shit, Andrew thought, when he noticed he’d lost an hour of his day making plans to see Neil again. 

Maybe Wymack was on to something. 

*

“You do seem awfully invested,” Betsy suggested, leaning on the porch railing as Andrew smoked through a second cigarette. She’d come along to Nicky’s Friday night fiasco at his request, seeing as Aaron had Katelyn and Nicky had Erik. It seemed a little ridiculous to being his old therapist, who was much more of a mother than a therapist, but Andrew’d wanted to talk to her anyway and their schedules clashed too much to meet up for lunch. 

“His case is simple,” Andrew objected, glaring at an owl that’d settled on the gangly tree in Nicky’s front yard. “He’s got physical evidence of his father’s cruelty, even though it’s been a decade. I’ve uncovered the DNA evidence tampering. Neil clearly acted out of self-defence. It’s open and shut, but no one’s going to want Wesninski’s child out on the streets.” 

“Jury?” Betsy inquired. 

“Jury,” Andrew confirmed sullenly. He fucking hated jury catering. When a case was on thin ice, it was up to selecting the perfectly biased (or prejudiced) people that’d think with their heart, not their head. Andrew was an excellent judge of character, but emotional evaluations were taxing and laborious. 

“You’ll do great,” Betsy promised, smiling her all-knowing smile. “You always do.” 

Andrew hummed gently, taking one final drag of his cigarette. Before he could chuck the butt into Nicky’s shrubbery, Betsy pinched it between her fingers and dropped it onto an ashtray atop a rickety windowsill. 

“It’s an interesting story,” Betsy continued. “There’s every reason to be intrigued by it.” 

Andrew just grunted. 

“Though,” she remarked. “I figured that case between the young girls was even more perplexing and intricate, but you seem rather enamoured.” 

“Shut up,” he mumbled. 

“I’m sure I don’t have to remind you about professionalism,” she said airily. 

“No,” he agreed. “You don’t.”

But - damn it all to hell - Neil was interesting. He was only a year younger than Andrew was, intelligent without seeming overbearing or arrogant, confident but reserved, a man of constraint taught by hardship but also a man of growth and reflection. Andrew was rambling and he knew it. Neil Wesninski was attractive, intriguing and completely out of Andrew’s reach. Even if he were just your average guy walking down the street, he wouldn’t look at Andrew twice. 

Andrew was fine with that. He didn’t need someone chasing after him, just like he didn’t need emotional intimacy or empathy or gentleness. It was like those nerve-endings had been scoured till they were numb and useless. The pathways were still there, but they echoed a nothingness that he’d never really figured out. 

Whatever. Whatever. Neil was just a challenging and well-paying case. That’s all he’d ever be. 

He was getting existential and over-contemplative. Betsy knew this and smiled, letting him take her by the elbow inside for a cup of cocoa. It was late when the other four finished their game of Monopoly and Nicky finally permitted everyone to leave. Betsy let Andrew walk her to her car again, warmth crinkling her eyes. 

“If you’re seeing your Neil tomorrow,” she said, with a wink. “Tell me all the juicy details.” 

“You’re a leech,” Andrew declared, pushing her car-door shut. She waved out the scrolled-down window as she careened off, leaving Andrew to his quiet but volatile thoughts. 

Your Neil, she’d said.

Now wasn’t that a confronting idea. 

*

“Suppose you are a danger to society,” Andrew drawled. They were sat opposite one another at another metal table, handcuffs dangling off one of Neil’s wrists, his blunt key being fiddled with in the other hand. “Suppose you are just as marvellously unhinged as dear old Dad. What then?” 

“Why bother entertaining the possibilities?” Neil cocked an eyebrow. “We both know I’m fine.” 

“You are the furthest thing from ‘fine’,” Andrew retorted. 

“You’re no paragon of mental health yourself,” Neil laughed, and Andrew wondered how the fuck he’d got himself here. 

Two months ago he’d met Neil for the first time. In two weeks his trial would begin, in his lovely hometown of Baltimore, Maryland. It’d be less of a drive for Andrew, so he didn’t mind. 

In two months, Andrew had found himself hanging onto every conversation. At first he clung on with apprehension. A wariness born out of unfamiliarity: he’d never been in the realm of wanting to associate with someone. Wanting someone’s company, their thoughts and opinions, their attention. It was ridiculous. Neil was a convicted murderer in a max-security prison. 

Then again, Andrew was the one who knew that Neil was undeserving of that title best. At most it was manslaughter. In reality it was a blessing. Ridding the world of the Butcher, a renowned and horrifically twisted serial killer, was a service to the public rather than a hindrance. 

And so Andrew had found himself in a strange position, between professionalism and exceptionalism. He almost couldn’t help it. He wanted to know what happened behind those ocean blues. 

“Someone’s been bored again,” Andrew accused, lighting a cigarette. That was illegal but he didn’t give a fuck. Neil gazed at where it rested between his lips, conflicted. 

He shrugged, caught out. “You’re an interesting person. Would it scare you to know we’re similar in more ways than one?” 

Andrew let a small smirk twitch around his smoke. “You should be more scared than I should be.” 

“Maybe I’ll go to law school when I’m out,” Neil leered, grinning. “Beat you at your own game.” 

“You can try,” Andrew said. “You’ll lose.” 

Neil hummed. His shackles jingled as he reached over the table for Andrew’s cigarette, his fingertips brushing over Andrew’s lips as he snatched it away. For a moment he watched the cherry’s glow, before letting it rest at the corner of his mouth. 

Unimpressed, and also oddly flushed, Andrew glared. 

“That sounds like a challenge,” Neil said, returning to the conversation like he hadn’t just stolen the cigarette out of Andrew’s mouth. Like Andrew hadn’t just let him. “If you get me out of this hell hole, I’ll prove you wrong.” 

“And if you don’t?”

Neil grinned. “Then you lose anyway. Don’t worry: I won’t cry.” 

“Good,” Andrew muttered, leaning back in his chair with his arms folded over his chest. 

Neil filled the rest of their valuable time with inane chatter about the more twisted happenings within a male max prison: Andrew had heard of similar stories and worse, but seeing as Neil instigated most of the fights, he still found it rather entertaining to be told. 

Before he knew it, their time was up. He stood, plucking the butt out from between Neil’s lips. 

“Till next time,” Neil said, a forlorn look at the cigarette between Andrew’s fingers. 

“I’ll text you about trial prep,” Andrew said, pointing at him. “Read it.” 

Neil sighed. “Not like it’ll help me in any way. But fine. I’ll waste my limited credit and battery on the shitty flipper for court etiquet.”

“You’d better, you ungrateful shit. I got you that phone.” 

Neil just winked and blew him a kiss. At Andrew’s scowl, he laughed. 

The laugh haunted - no, teased - Andrew all the way out of the stupid prison complex, across the car park, even as he blasted music on the way home.  

*

Andrew took one look at the woman who squirmed in her chair, leaning anxiously away from the middle-aged man next to her. It was instinctive and ingrained in her behaviours. An abusive father, then. Or, perhaps an abusive husband, if the twisting of her wedding ring was anything to go by. 

“Accept,” Andrew declared. 

“Do you have any qualms about gang violence?” the prosecution asked a balding man, lounging in his chair. 

“It’s a toxic function of our society,” he answered. 

The lawyer looked to the judge and smiled. “Accept, your honour.”

Fucking hell, Andrew thought. He glanced back over to the table, where Neil was cuffed to the iron loop. He didn’t smile, but simply tipped up his chin. An acknowledgement. Confidence in, well. Andrew. 

Something in Andrew’s stomach settled. He turned back to the man that the prosecution had accepted. “So you have heard of the Wesninski case?”

“It was ten years ago,” he objected. 

“What did you think of it?” 

“It was well resolved,” he said. 

“So you still garner some form of opinion against Wesninski?” Andrew eyed the Christian Society badge pinned to the strap of his messenger bag. “Surely your god would have some qualms with your inability to forgive,” 

“Mr Minyard,” the judge insisted. “That’s enough.”

It didn’t matter. The man was already spitting mad, going bright-red in the face. He pointed at Neil and hissed “He’s a monster, just like his father. God should’ve had him killed!” 

“Denied,” Andrew drawled. The man shuffled out of the jury box, frothing mad. 

By the end of the selection process, Andrew was sure that at least half of those sitting in the box would think emotionally rather than pragmatically. He settled back at his desk, ignoring the prosecution lawyer’s filthy glares, and tapped his fingers on Neil’s file. 

“I didn’t miss this,” Neil muttered, picking at the skin of his cuticles. 

From Andrew’s pocket he drew out Neil’s favourite key, of which he’d swiped after they’d searched Neil from head to toe. The man looked at him with undeserved awe, taking the blunt key and spinning it between his fingers. 

“Thank you,” he said. 

“Shut up,” Andrew retorted. 

The court was called to stand: Neil’s hearing had begun. 

*

FUCKs sake i was gonna try do this in three parts but the trial will be a whole part and the post trial too..... dammit lol

next we find out: what does the prosecution have up their sleeve? how will neil’s testimony go? what chaos will andrew cause in the courtroom? whose key does neil continually trace?? will neil be inevitably driven to distraction by andrew’s dope-ass suit?

[ironmandeficiency]

day three: commander snoop

the commander of my stoner company, i didn’t think i would actually go in depth with him but here we are

playlist: commander snoop

warnings: since this clone is based on snoop dogg, there is going to be mention of marijuana. attempted murder of a longneck

man got his name from being sneaky as hell. if you think smth is hidden well, send snoop to find it. if he comes back with it, you failed and should ask him to hide it for you. this happens every time without fail

he’s literally the most chill dude ever and it drives some of his brothers crazy how go-with-the-flow he can be

they soon realize it’s because of all the weed he smokes with damn near everyone in the entire battalion. they don’t know whether to be awed at how he gets enough weed to sustain that many people or offended that he gets enough weed to sustain that many people

every shiny’s first smoke is shared with him and captain nelson, as they’re the most experienced and have a reputation as the best to smoke with for both aftercare and handling shenanigans during a high (no shiny is forced to smoke but it’s a social norm for the entire battalion & many look forward to smoking with the commander the same way they look forward to painting armor)

there was one mission where he was assigned to guard a high-profile senator on the way back to coruscant (there had been threats on her life). said senator was hella anti-clone until she saw how chill the 420th was (paired with the fact snoop took a blaster shot for her without fail despite how bitchy she was). once snoop was released from medical, she apologized to him and they became friends

once back to coruscant, said senator becomes a very vocal voice in clones’ rights initiatives, right up there with senators amidala and organa. renounces all of her past anti-clone sentiment & even ends a treaty or two with a couple planets who refuse to acknowledge the rights the clones deserve. the420th gets some badass nose art done of her smoking weed w/ snoop and captain nelson

she taught him to cook (thus the beginning of the edibles black market thruout the gar) and he visits her when the 420th is on leave. they make videos for hearth w/ cool recipes he could make for the guard and it’s so pure

does narrations of crane’s bugs akin to “plizzanet earth” videos and they’re such a serotonin boost among the gar. he knows next to nothing about the bugs he talks about but enjoys making the narrations nonetheless

is known to roll the best blunts in the gar and takes pride in this

has a secret stash of paraphernalia — bongs, hookahs, dab pens, shatter, etc. that no one else knows abt unless he wants them to know.

was nearly decommissioned but almost no one knows abt it. it’s a well-guarded secret and talking abt it w others will result in vode losing trust in the gabber

back on kamino, he loved being on tubie duty (the little bitty babies). they were all special and held a piece of his heart, but there was one that he kept up with thru all his cadet days that snoop knew he wanted when he was given command of a battalion.

this trooper’s name was thistledown, named for the soft wispy hairs he had when he was a baby and the way he would pretty much pet you when he was being held. didn’t talk much but he didn’t really need to, everything he felt was shown thru his eyes and physical touch. only talked to acknowledge orders and to be polite to the few trainers worth their weight in gold

the longnecks didn’t really approve of this silent behavior, but since he still was meeting training expectations they let it slide. there was very little room for him to stumble in training bc of the fine line he was already walking. when a training simulation went wrong, the longnecks jumped at the chance to decommission him

thistledown was part of the same batch as achilles & is one of the brothers he lost that caused the guardsman to grow cynical

when snoop found out, he went into a blind rage at the first longneck he saw. if he hadn’t been pulled off by cody & biggs, he would have killed her in the middle of the mess hall with no hesitation

man never thought he would be capable of smth so violent and it really messed w his mind for a while. snoop was never angry, especially not murderous. had a brief existential crisis abt it

days before he was set to receive his men, he stumbled upon a stoned merchant manning his stall selling his wares. the guy was selling weed and snoop tried it. the guy was sympathetic to the plight of the clones and ended up giving snoop most of what he had for the promise of his loyalty for future purchases

[emeraldwaves]

Title: What Happens at Frat Parties Chapter 4 Pairing:  Huwumi Rating: E Word Count:  3,004 Read on Ao3 Summary:  

For Hawks, getting the girl has always been easy. He’s popular, attractive and part of the frat house that throws the best parties. When Dabi’s sister shows up one night, Hawks realizes not everything comes as easy to him as he thought. And while Fuyumi thinks Hawks isn’t her type, as time goes on, she finds his advances harder to resist. Maybe there’s more to him than she realizes.

Fic under the cut!

Hawks assumed he'd been insufferable all week.

"Dude you've been insufferable all fuckin' week," Dabi snorted, lighting a blunt.

Confirmed.

"I swear to fuck if you ruin this party, I'm going to murder you," Dabi continued, yanking on a large floatie to put in the pool, presumably for himself.

"What could I possibly do to ruin it for you when all you're going to do is float around and smoke?"

"You'll find a way," Dabi said, narrowing his eyes. "I know you've been moping about my sister rejecting you all week, which, disgusting, but if I have to hear you sad sigh one more time, I'm going to rip out your damn vocal chords."

"You know I can still sigh even without a voice-"

"Shut it. Just find someone to fuck tonight so your dickbrain can be satisfied."

Hawks opened his mouth, about to protest but Dabi continued. "And don't you dare fuck my sister."

"I'm not! She wants nothing to do with me!" he retorted quickly.

"Good. Ew. There are plenty of other fish in the sea or girls about to be in our pool. Pick someone else," Dabi said, taking a long hit on his blunt.

"I don't know. Maybe I should stop," Hawks said, grabbing a drink and sitting at the edge of the pool. Music thumped in the background, something upbeat Mirio had picked. He dipped his feet in the water, swinging his legs back and forth. In just a few moments, the pool would be filled with plenty of beautiful girls dressed in the most perfect bathing suits, droplets of water rolling down their skin, wet hair clinging to their cheeks. It was ideal, more than ideal.

And yet...

"Stop what? Fucking women? Yeah right. Maybe when I stop smoking," Dabi said, flopping onto the floatie. "It's the summer, not existential crisis hour."

He hopped into the pool, shivering when the water floated around his chest, leaning against the edge of the pool. "I know," he muttered.

"Look here, guyliner," Dabi said, sitting up enough to look at Hawks.

"Guyliner?" Hawks snorted, tiling his head.

"Yeah," Dabi said and gestured wildly to his own eye, right at the corner. "You always got that shit on your face."

"My... eyes just look like this," Hawks said, rolling them.

"What?" Dabi blinked. "Okay. Anyway, I'm not gonna help you get your mojo back or anything. So have a few more beers and find some cute girl and you'll forget all about this week and my sister. Which is still disgusting by the way."

"I guess I should let the magic of summer and alcohol do its stuff," Hawks sighed, draping his body over the edge of the pool.

"Exactly."

"You're a horrible friend, you know that?" Hawks snorted.

"Yup. Thank you!" Dabi smirked, puffing out a large ring of smoke.

Hawks didn't know why he cared so much about what had transpired between him and Fuyumi. She was pretty, sure, but it wasn't like he hadn't been with other pretty girls. Maybe it was the fact that it had been ages since he'd been rejected by someone. He sighed, running his wet fingers through his blond hair, taking a long swig of the beer.

Voices echoed from their front lawn, groups of people starting to walk up to the house. Mirio and Tensei were by the entrance of the gate, greeting the guests like it was some sort of formal event.

Hawks waved, nodding as friends walked into the yard, a few immediately rushing into the pool.

"Hey! Don't ruin my shit!" Dabi said, attempting to keep his balance in the floatie, holding his smoking blunt high above the water.

Dabi was right. Not that Hawks would ever say that out loud, but he needed to not think about stupid shit. He had no reason to be attached to Todoroki Fuyumi. She rejected him, which meant he could move on to someone else. Easy peasy.

Or it would've been if Todoroki Fuyumi wasn't walking into their backyard right now looking like an absolute goddess.

Her white and red hair was partially covered by a straw sunhat, her pale skin glistening in the sunlight. A soft white ribbon was tied around the hat, draping over the side. Her legs were covered by a pink wrap, tied around her curvy hips, covering the lower half of her white suit with red polka dots. It was a one piece, covering the entirety of her body, but it scooped low, her cleavage barely covered by the bow tied in the front. She looked good. Stunning even... especially in this compared to the rather... frumpy outfits he had seen her in before this.

His jaw dropped, his mouth open. He was lucky his damn drool stayed in his mouth.

"I know that look," Dabi snorted. "Glad it only took one beer for you to get over your damn self and- ...what the fuck."

Hawks could only assume Dabi's gaze had fallen upon the very person he couldn't take his eyes off of.

"Why the hell is Fuyumi here?!"

Because Hawks had finally gone to hell for being a shit and this was his torture.

"Stop staring at her, creep!" Dabi growled, flicking the side of Hawks head.

"Ow!? I wasn't!"

A blatant lie.

It hurt more to tear his eyes away from her than it did to stare. It sucked that she was way hotter than he'd originally guessed.

"I swear to fuck if I catch you again I'll rip your dick off. And don't talk to her because she's coming over here."

Indeed she was. Hawks rolled his eyes, taking a long swig of his beer. He wasn't going to purposefully talk to her, especially since every time he did something went wrong. No. He'd already made his decision to find someone else for the night...

But her hips...

The way the bathing suit sat snug on her curves. It was killing him and his dick that Dabi would rip off if he knew the dirty thoughts rushing through Hawks' mind.

"Oi! 'Yumi! What the hell are you doing here?" Dabi groaned, letting his head fall back into the water as he stared at her.

"Touya..." she sighed. "I'm not-"

"Dabi."

She clicked her tongue.

"Touya-"

"Fuyumi. You're the smart one of the two of us. How hard is it to remember what to call me?"

She rolled her eyes, folding her arms over her chest, which only made Hawks flick his gaze back down to the water.

 Don't look at her chest. Don't look at her chest. Don't look at her chest.

If he chanted it hard enough he probably wouldn't do it. Probably.

"Oh, it's got nothing to do with memory," she huffed out. "I just don't want to call you that stupid name."

"Stupid? It's better than Touya."

Hawks didn't really know Dabi's hang up about his name and he didn't bother to ask; he knew he wouldn't get a serious answer.

"Anyway," Fuyumi said, ignoring the question. "I'm not here for you-"

"Oh fuck, please tell me you're not here for Hawks."

"Huh-" Hawks blinked, and shot his head up, staring straight at Fuyumi. Her cheeks were heated as she glanced between both of the boys.

Hope; a cruel emotion, flickered in his chest.

"What?!" Quickly she shook her head. "I'm not here for him either! Nejire wanted to see Mirio and Tamaki so she asked me to come with her."

"Oh, carry on then," Dabi said, flicking his hand as he pulled his head up and took a long drag on the blunt still smoking in his mouth.

Fuyumi rolled her eyes. "Glad to have your permission," she said, turning from both of them.

"Hope you, uh, have fun," Hawks said, waving his hand one time. She glanced back towards him, nodding awkwardly before turning back to head to where Nejire was.

He loved looking and sounding like a total moron.

Watching her walk away, he gulped down the rest of his beer and slammed the bottle down on the side of the pool.

He needed 20 more of those to make this night better.

~~

Even in a one piece, Fuyumi felt exposed. She hated the summer, she much preferred to be bundled up in sweaters and jeans, comfortable for the winter. Today, the heat was practically unbearable, and the last thing she wanted to do was swim in the pool where her brother and his idiotic friends were hanging out.

"'Yumi, you look like you're dying," Nejire teased, gently nudging her friend.

"It's just a little hot," she said, gently adjusting her hat.

"I know the solution to that," Nejire hummed. "We should grab drinks!"

"Just some water for me-"

"No, no... no no no!" Nejire squeaked, hooking her arm through Fuyumi's. "We're going to make you a real drink!"

"Neji!" she said, stumbling forward with the girl as they made their way over to the bar.

Fuyumi wasn't much of a drinker. Meaning she drank never. When she did, it was usually a disaster.

The last thing this party needed was a disaster.

"Girl, you need to allow yourself to have fun. I'll make you a drink and you'll feel refreshed in no time," she said, grabbing a few of the bottles on the table.

"I didn't realize 'refreshed' and 'drunk' were synonyms now," Fuyumi teased, trying to watch what Nejire was doing as she dumped ice into two drinks.

"Having one drink to take the edge off is not going to get you drunk."

Oh how wrong she was.

They were joined by Mirio and Tamaki, though Tamaki had yet to say anything, and Fuyumi found she preferred to let Nejire and Mirio do most of the talking. For now, she focused on the drink. It was nice in a way, the cup keeping her hands cold at the very least. And though the liquid was sharp when it rolled down her throat, it was surprisingly refreshing, sending a cool feeling throughout her body.

At some point, Nejire refilled the drink when she refilled her own, laughing with Mirio about some final exam they both were certain they aced.

By the end of the strange green colored drink, Fuyumi was feeling far more 'refreshed' than she expected. Her skin tingled, a slight buzz tickling through her veins and she could feel her heartbeat throbbing against her forehead. Somehow the sun felt even hotter now and Fuyumi was done avoiding the pool.

"Uh, Yumi? Where are you going?" Nejire said, the moment Fuyumi took a step away from her.

"It's still too hot, I'm going swimming."

"Are you sure about that?" Nejire asked.

"Mhm," she said, untying the wrap around her waist as she tossed it to the side. "Can't take it anymore." She placed her hat on the ground with the pink wrap, leaving them by Nejire as she walked to the water and stepped into it.

She sighed as the cool water floated over her, immediately cooling her body. She sighed happily, running her hand over the top of the water.

"I'm surprised you decided to come back over here."

Gasping, Fuyumi jerked her head up, looking directly into the golden eyes of Hawks, a smirk pulled across his lips. Aviator sunglasses shimmered in the sunlight atop his head, his bare chest dripping with the water from the pool.

He really was too handsome for his own good.

At least, that's what Fuyumi was certain other girls thought. Not her. He was average. Nothing special.

Even though her eyes trailed up and down his body against her will.

"I was hot," she said finally, as if it registered to her brain that she needed to answer him.

"Heh..." he chuckled and she rolled her eyes, leaning against the edge of the pool.

"Don't," she said. "I don't need your fake flattery."

"Fake?" he sighed, moving to the edge of the pool. He folded his arms over the edge and smirked at her. "Who said anything about fake?"

"I know your type. I know what you do to get girls out of this pool and into your bed." She clicked her tongue and flicked water at his face. It was a bit blunt, but the alcohol had removed her filter. "I just want to cool off," she whined, pushing away from the edge, she dunked herself completely under the water. Coming back up, she smoothed her hands over her hair, slicking it back.

"Look," Hawks sighed, rubbing his forehead. "I'll leave you alone okay. I promise I was just going to say the suit was cute, nothing weird."

She glanced down at the red polka dots. "This? Cute?"

"Yeah, it looks good on you," he said casually.

Was this how he won all the girls over? Simple-minded compliments to girls who didn't always feel good about themselves.

Well, Fuyumi wasn't going to fall for it. Not anymore than she already kinda, maybe, sort of, was. She cleared her throat. "Well, thanks."

"Yeah, I gotta... get out of here anyway. Your brother will kill me if he sees me talking to you," Hawks said, snorting as he began to walk by her.

"What? Did he say that?"

"Yup. Multiple times. Threatened to rip my dick off too and I'm not about to let that happen."

Fuyumi wrinkled her nose. A disgusting image quite frankly. "Are you really... scared of my brother?"

"Scared!?!" He immediately turned around, coughing a bit, as though a bug had flown into his mouth. "I'm not scared. I just don't feel like listening to him bitch about shit. Shigaraki bitches enough for all of us.

"Plus," he continued. "You've made it pretty damn clear you're not interested. I'm not gonna harass you. I have more tact than that." He almost looked sad as he said all that, his golden eyes flickering against the sun.

"Oh," she said softly. "I see." Why did she sort of share the sentiment?

"You don’t have to look sad about that,” he smirked. "I’ll make sure to ask you for one date from time to time."

He really was handsome.

Her heart continued to throb against her forehead and for a moment her stomach dropped as she imagined what it would be like to kiss him. Her eyes trailed down to his lips, which were pursed tight against his teeth as if he was deep in thought. She had heard so many rumors from Nejire and others; about what a good kisser he was and for a moment she let her mind wander.

Him pushing her against the edge of the pool, hands cupping her jaw, thumb caressing her cheek while he slotted their lips together-

"Yup. Anyway, do you want anything?" he asked, shaking her from her daze.

"Uh? Anything?"

Like a kiss? Or even better, an actual conversation? She thought he was about to leave her alone.

He raised his eyebrow when he realized she was clearly confused. He spoke again, "To drink?" he asked.

Oh no, she was good when it came to alcohol. Already she was starting to wonder if this was a pool or a whirlpool.

What the hell had been in the drinks Nejire had poured for her?

She quickly shook her head and floated away from the stairs. The faster she got away from him the better. She was certain it was the alcohol clouding her brain because she never would've ever considered thinking about kissing Hawks. And now... it was all her brain could focus on.

If only she could just try it once and be disgusted by it so she could get it out of her system.

No.

That was just what he wanted her to do. He was probably praying to some sex god that she would come to him and beg him to take her. Well, she certainly would show him.

"Fuyumi, are you okay?" Hawks asked, floating after her in the pool. His fingers cut through the water, leaning against the edge.

"No! I will not sleep with you!"

"Huh?" Hawks stood, or, floated rather, in front of her, blinking once and then again.

Good, she totally threw him off. Victory.

But then she realized when she actually said. She froze, swallowing as she felt the heat rise up to her cheeks. Had she really just said that?! He hadn't even asked, even though she was certain he just assumed which was dumb of him but saying that was not very smart of her either. She tried not to groan or roll her eyes as her mind stumbled into a panic.

Why was he staring at her? Did he think that was what she had been thinking about this whole time!?

"I promise..." Hawks began, finally regaining some form of speech. "I wouldn't do anything you didn't want. I'm not that much of a jerk," he said and for a moment she sensed a hint of sadness laced in his tone. She probably could've read it better if he wasn't starting to spin in front of her.

"You just seem a little... drunk," he admitted. "I was worried-"

Worried? She highly doubted that.

"What? No? I'm fine! I'm not Touya... oh... excuse me, Dabi!" she huffed.

"You don't drink often, do you?" he teased softly, leaning in towards her.

Oh gosh, he really was handsome.

"No," she said, holding the word out for far longer than normal. "I didn't drink much today."

"No, I meant in general-"

"I just need to find Nejire and I'll be fine," she sighed, pushing herself towards the stairs.

"Okay, just be careful-"

She clicked her tongue cutting him off. "I don't need to be careful, I'm perfectly fine." She pushed herself out of the pool, stumbling forward when she realized her body felt a bit heavier now she was standing on land.

But Fuyumi didn't need Hawks' help; not at all.

[yanderemommabean]

How about a demon king Dabi? If you have no ideas I would like to suggest that maybe you were traveling across the country in a caravan, but you were attacked and got separated? You found what seemed to be an abandoned castle but when you entered you awakened a king who has been sleeping for ages! I love this rat boy sooo much - Existential Bean

You shiver and wrap the wolf skins around your shoulders to keep you warm. The castle kept you dry, but the chilly air still managed to whirl around you and cause your body to tremble as the sun began to set. If only your irritation and rage could warm you, you would be melting the snow outside with just your presecene alone.

Your caravan forgot to wake you at the last stop, leaving you to wake up to a stomped out fire pit, still smoking, and abandoned posts with only a few trinkets left behind. They left you without even a word! Little whelps better hide if they know what’s good for them.

While lost in your angered thoughts, the sound of growling alerts you, drawing you out into reality. You swiftly stand, yanking out your dagger as you scan your surroundings, clutching the handle with white knuckles. “Show yourself...I’m not scared of you! I’ve fought worse than theives like you”.

A low laugh sends shivers down your spine, tone just as cold as the air. “Now that’s quite the assumption. And quite the insult”. A voice mused, just behind you. “I am not a lowly theif. If anything, you’re the intruder, this is my castle after all”. You turn to where the voice was seeming to come from, but was faced with nothing. “What th- Who are you? Some bandit? This castle is clearly void of any life and luxury”.

Before you could throw another insult, a gust of wind-no no was it a kick?- knocked you off your feet, and you landed on your back with a pained grunt. You growl, looking around and holding your shoulder, feeling the pain throb across the muscle. “Warlock? Beast? Name yourself if you’re too cowardly to show yourself!”.

There was a pause, and you could see your breath as you looked around desperately, wondering if you possibly lost your mind. You look back down to your pathetic cooking pit, about to just pack up and leave, figuring it’s better than going insane in a possibly cursed area.

As you reach for your satchel, an explosion of blue flames surrounds you and your supplies are burned before your very eyes. “NO-NO THATS ALL I HAVE-“ You screech, clawing at the ash covering the ground. Nothing. The flames took your only food, and just as fast as it came, it was gone.

“You will watch your tongue, human”. The voice growls, another unseen force shoving you back down to the floor, cooling down from the fast flames that consumed your rations. “I am a king. A demon king. And I will not be called by any title lower than that”.

Demon king? But those are just legends! Aren’t they? Then again, legends don’t burn your items and stay invisible, bullying you for unknown reasons. “Tell me your name, demon” you demand, glaring around the room as you regain your balance. “Call me Dabi. I’m no fool. If I give you my real name you can use it to kill me or worse. I’m smarter than your human tales write me to be”.

Before you open your mouth to defend the tales told to you as a child, manifesting before you was a grotesque, evil looking man. A vessel, you remember being told, some demons need them. You remember being told that some start to fall apart from not being able to handle the raw power some demons hold.

And this vessel was holding a king.

“You’re dying” you state with little emotion. You didn’t know what else to say. You were always the blunt type. “What gave that away? The scars? The staples? The hole in my chest?” He snapped, showing you an empty hole in his upper chest. That’s when you remember a vivid detailed story your comrades at school told you.

“The demon king had a lover. They were a fighter! A lover and had a heart of pure gold! But one day...he was careless, allowing them to go on a caravan trade without him. And you know what happened?”. They ask while leaning closer to you as you try and read up on local tales and issues.

You shake your head and look up, cocking and eyebrow. “What? Did he mourn and stay in a cave like your uncle?”. Your comrade shakes their head and points to an old castle in the hills. “He caused bloodshed for ten years. But has gone silent. Some say the only way he’ll survive and regain his strength is if another mortal falls for him and mends his missing heart. The heart he tore out himself because he felt he would never love again”.

You step back, but stop yourself for a moment. Could he be the one from the tales? “I’ve heard of your story...I heard you ripped your own heart out so that you wouldn’t mourn another human life again. And...” you sheath your dagger, sucking in a deep breath and step towards him again. “I want to know more”.

Dabi cocks his head, turning away with a scowl, eyes staring down at the floor as he reluctantly spoke. “As if I would converse commonly with someone such as you. You have nothing to give me and I want nothing but for you to leave”. He tensed up his shoudlers, clutching his open wound with a hiss of pain.

You furrow your brow, gently gripping his shoulder to turn him around, surprised at how warm he felt. “Let me help you at least. I can’t let a king be seen as so pathetic, it’s not good for any stories to tell” you lightly joke, seeing his eyes widen at your gentle touch.

You didn’t shy away from his burning skin. You...you could be different from the other mortals. Perhaps he should allow you to help, if it meant you’d be leaving soon and he wouldn’t be surrounded by the memories this room brings him. “Fine. I’ll allow it. Just this once. But don’t assume this means I favor you, or that I won’t crush you if you cross me”.

You nod, pulling out the wrappings you kept in your pocket, thankful the flames didn’t burn away the medical items. “Then let’s get this over with, your majesty”.

(I’m so sorry this is so long and has so many typos I just...really got into this)

[colourthestarts]

Bad Days and Baby Steps

Warning: smoking (kids do not smoke!) and swearing.

 Sachihiro Kondo. Also known as Sachi had a sort of relation with y/n that Kuroo had with Kenma. They grew up together and they both joined same type of sports which were jiu jitsu and judo. They met Mika together in first year of high school when Sachi very rudely hit on Mika and she slapped him in the face. Y/n howled the whole day and then kicked Sachi’s ass during training the same day. Then both of them got twenty push ups for slagging each other off. Then another twenty for asking why. But neither regretted cause they met Mika and clicked together well.

By the end of the year y/n and Sachi were not as close. Y/n was no longer training and the group would eat together and hang out but there was still that distance. Then it got bigger when Sachi got a girlfriend or well… few girlfriends over time. The issue was not that he had girlfriends but rather the type. Somehow they all turned up jealous of his two female friends. But they were all understanding for their age, tho sometimes still argued.

Third year started to change when Sachi started to pester y/n more often once again. This did not go unnoticed in school and a small rumour started that they were dating. Which got the attention of Sachi’s girlfriend Yua who was seeing him a lot less lately. So it was not surprising that eventually she would come to the girls on the whereabouts of her boyfriend.

“Y/n, Mika have you seen Sachi?”

“No.” Y/n stated while trying to cram in that bloody chemistry chapter for the test tomorrow.

“Probs in your classroom.” Mika replied while trying to understand the geography homework.

“Yeah, he’s not there which is why I’m asking. He’s been recently hanging out with you two. I barely see him at all.”

“We’ve been hanging out since first year. That would be normaaaal.” Mika sang, which irritated the girlfriend more if not for Sachi walking in. Yua immediately approached him. 

“Awww Sachi let’s have lunch and hang out!” But she was swiftly ignored when he passed her and sat in front of y/n, closing her book which was met with a whine.

“Sweetie, I need to study. We got a chemistry test tomorrow and I need to know my study sessions with Kuroo are not a massive waste of time. Can your existential crisis wait till tomorrow?”

“Come back to me.” Sachi stated.

“Ehhh… you might want to be a bit clearer when you say stuff like that.” Y/n nodded towards the girlfriend who looked like she was gonna explode. And rightfully so from her perspective.

“To the club. Come back to train.” Y/n face became sour.

“No.”

“I know that you’re done with physio.”

“Wait what? Seriously?” Mika asked.

“Yeah. So what? I’m not coming back.”

“Be my vice-captain. We can go back to before the injury.” Although y/n understood this came from a good place to say so, she just couldn't take it that way. There was nothing good with this.

“Let’s make this super clear. There will never be a "before the injury". And I am not coming back so go deal with your girlfriend and kindly fuck off.”

The same day Sachi broke up with Yua with the explanation that she was too clingy. Y/n did not shut down. Instead she blanked the whole day and when school ended she didn’t go to physio. Cause there was no more physio. Nor did she have a chemistry session with Kuroo that day. In theory she knew she should study for the test but she didn’t want to go home. So she spend her time in the wondering in the shopping centre then to the cafe and when that wasn't good enough she just walked around the streets until finally sitting down.

That was the worst decision and she knew it. Cause when y/n felt upset and with no way out she smoked. It happened rarely and it was a disgusting habit, yet she didn’t quit. On her second cig she was woken up when it was taken straight out of her lips. Y/n expected her brothers, Mika, Sachi even the police, but definitely not Kuroo.

In retrospect, Kuroo was shocked when he was walking towards train station after getting himself a new pair of volleyball shoes, seeing y/n sitting with a cig between her teeth. He never thought that she was a smoker. Suddenly he started to get sort of pissed off. No reason why but that feeling was there. So he walked up to her and asked what was she thinking, but she completely blanked him, the same way she blanked her lessons. After not getting a response after few more times Kuroo just took her cig right out of her mouth which seemed to wake her up. With few blinks she finally responded.

“What are you doing here?”

“Didn’t think you were a smoker.” Kuroo stated while taking out the cig and sitting next to her.

“I’m not.” Then Kuroo pointed at the pack. “Rarely. Until the next time happens I guess.”

“Have you talked to Mika?”

“Nah, not there yet.”

“What about Sachi? You two are close right?”

“Yeah… he’s not a good option at this time.”

“Your brothers. They seem chill from what I’ve seen.” That was Kuroo’s honest opinion. Sometimes after sessions he would stay longer when her brothers were around to have dinner. It was always insisted and he honestly liked the extra company. Once in a while Kenma joined too.

“I can’t cause I’m mad at them.”

“Aaaaaa….”

“Yeah…”

“… You can talk to me? I mean I can listen or not listen.”

A minute later y/n stood up, putting away the pack back into the bag.

“Let’s walk to the train station.”  Kuroo nodded and tagged along. At least he offered his help. Y/n tho considered his offer and though that she’d go with it. You never know. “I think better in motion so this will be easier as we walk. Plus then I don’t exactly have to look at you and that makes me feel more comfortable. Although I don’t mean looking at you in a negative way.”

“Okay…”

“So basically I’m out from physio. It’s all done.”

“That’s good news right?”

“Well technically yes. But this now brings the opportunity to go back to training, but I don’t think I’m quite there yet in a weird way. But then Sachi just flew in on the break saying I should come back and be vice-captain and like as if everything is fine but I know... I’m not fine. Dunno why but I know I’m not. And now Mika knows too because of him and she’s gonna be all happy and supportive and she’ll team up with Sachi who I kinda wanna strangle for this.”

“So you’re angry cause he’s pushing you? If you don’t wanna do this why don’t you tell him that. You’re pretty blunt usually.”

“Thanks. Not angry, more like feeling suffocated." Y/n commented with a chuckle. Tho both knew it wasn't funny. A minute later they stopped and y/n turned to Kuroo. "I can’t cause he was the one who injured me. Well he thinks he did. I think that I fucked up and its on me and we never agreed on this issue in the first place. So now he probs thinks that this is a remake. But since I can’t even think about training without having a nervous breakdown it’s a fucked situation for everyone. Hence smoking.”

Wow. Not exactly what he imagined nor he could relate to her situation. He really didn’t know what sort of advice to give. He never had a serious injury. Never really felt stuck like this with Kenma. Maybe Yaku, but it was just arguing with banter. Definitely never with Bokuto or Akaashi.

“I’m sorry.”

“Lol for what even. You said you’d listen and you did. If it makes you feel better this kinda made me feel better.”

“Weirdly helps. By the way why are you mad at your brothers?”

“Sachi doesn’t walk to physio with me. I banned him after the whole surgery and stuff. He was a nightmare. Mika didn’t know I was done so she didn’t tell him. Which means my dumb ass siblings told him which was frankly none of their business.”

“I don’t think they meant to harm.”

“Of course they don’t. So I can’t be mad at them either. I am just royally fucked in every way.” When Kuroo made a face she quickly realised. “I just heard how that sounded, but the basic point stands.”

“Okay… didn’t know you were such a badass tho. Judo? Really?”

“And Jiu Jitsu. And even MMA once in a while cause Kisho does that.”

“So you can easily beat me up anytime.”

“I wouldn’t and haven’t trained in ages, but if necessary yeah think so. Deffo could break a few bones.”

“You are terrifying.” Kuroo stated intrigued. To him this somehow made y/n even more attractive. Same didn’t registered with y/n tho.

“Thanks. That’s what all girls wanna hear.”

"No no, I mean in a good way! Like a badass! Not like that you're boyish or anything."

"What's wrong with girls being boyish?"

"Nothing at all! God I'm just digging myself in a bigger hole aren't I?"

"Just a bit." Y/n mused, she knew he didn't mean it like that. Tho she also struggled to be a bit more feminine to say so. She wished she was tho. "I'm pulling your leg, don't worry. C'mon the train station isn't far off."

The journey home was more pleasant. There was some small talk but y/n mostly was quite clearly didn't feeling good yet. Also her hands gripping her backpack also indicated she wasn't completely fine. So when y/n got off at her station so did Kuroo.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Walking you home."

"You're what now?"

"Walking you home. You honestly expect me just to let you off like that."

"Like what? I'm fine."

"Yeah just the way you also are amazing at chemistry."

"It's a dumb subject! And we're not talking about that! You need to get on the next train." Y/n commented while waving her hands. Kuroo noticed she did a lot of that when she was explaining or arguing like now. Well she can keep doing that while walking home.

"There'll be 3 more trains. I got plenty of time. Let's go."

The way to y/n's was far more talkative cause y/n kept pestering for him to go back. But Kuroo shot back with the chemistry test that was due tomorrow so the rest of the walk up to her gates was him quizzing and her mostly whining.

"Can't believe you just tortured me with this."

"We have a test tomorrow. Can't have you failing."

"Pfff I've never failed a test so you better watch your own ass. At this point I'll do better than you."

"Dream on." Kuroo chucked as they approached the gate. The lights were on so someone was definitely on possibly waiting to give hell to y/n. "Are you gonna be okay?"

"You mean those two? Not the first time I got home so late so I'm used to a bit of telling off. Besides once I mention Sachi they'll shut right up. You should go or you'll miss your train."

"I will, you should go inside."

"You should go first. I'm literally outside my house."

"You-"

"You insisted to walk me home and quizzed me on chemistry. Can't you do this for me?" Kuroo noticed that she was waving her arms again. It was adorable.

"Okay I'll go first. But if you feel like that again where you wanna smoke text or call me."

"Sorry, I can't promise that. Text me when you get home or if you missed your train."

"I will, see you tomorrow."

"Bye "

It was when he reached the third house that he herd y/n yell thank you. But when he turned around she was already gone.

On the other hand once y/n got in she was met with Norio's dissaproved face.

"Where have you been I've been worried. Mike and Sachin had no idea where you were your phone is off. Have you lost it?"

"It's with me."

"Then what the hell?"

"Was it you or Kisho who told Sachi physio was done?" When she was met with silence she immediately knew. "So, both of you. I'm going to my room have a test tomorrow."

After some revision and finally getting to bed it was not a surprise that she couldn't sleep. Over think everything was an awful personality trait of hers. But this time it wasn't as bad as usually despite her weird day. Instead she had a weird feeling because of Kuroo that she couldn't quite identify.

Maybe it was graditute.

[angrylizardjacket]

the motley fool thus morals on the time {Ben Hardy/Reader/Roger Taylor}

Summary: 70s!Roger has met 2018!Roger. He doesn’t talk about it a lot.

A/N: 977 words. REAL SHORT. takes place in the ben/reader/roger universe but ben’s not in it, i just wrote a lot about him anyways. so let’s talk about the logistics of time travel. also no this wasn’t requested but it came to me and i had to write it. it’s not necessarily angsty, just existential.

Roger complains a lot about the present, or as he calls it, The Future, which, for the first few months of his arrival was pretty well warranted, and after that, it just become a habit.

“You know, I could get a deck of cigs for less than forty-five p. back in seventy two.” He’s on the balcony of your shared apartment, rolling himself a cigarette as the two of you sat and watched the sunset. Ben’s in the shower, and Roger’s balancing his pouch of tobacco on his knees. “Everything’s so expensive nowadays.” His voice is a grumble as he leans to lick along the edge of the paper, rolling up the cigarette and putting it between his lips.

“They’re trying to stop you smoking; it’ll kill you.” Tucking yourself up beside him, you rest your head on his shoulder, eyes on the golden glow of the horizon, red light bleeding out from the sinking sun and going on to stain the sky violet. 

“I’ve heard rolling your own is better for you.” He lights the cigarette and leans back against the seat, throwing an arm around you. ”It’s not like I know what havoc this time travel shit with wreak on me, I’m just tryna keep myself alive in the downtime.”

“You’re still smoking.” You point out, and he takes a long draft. The air is cool between you, the first of the twilight stars peering out overhead.

“It’s called an addiction, sweetheart,” Roger says, voice tight, before he exhales fully, “‘least it is nowadays.” He’s in a mood, and though he doesn’t get like this often, it’s easy to tell, especially when you call him out on it and he doesn���t immediately dismiss it. “I could smoke whatever I want,” he muses into the silence he’s created, “it’s not like I don’t survive.” 

You don’t have an answer for that because, well, there’s unequivocal proof that he’s right.

“I’ve met him, you know.” He says, tipping his head to rest gently on yours, before taking another draft and flicking his ashes onto the ground where he’d sweep them off the balcony later. 

“Who?” 

“Me.” It’s blunt, and warrants some type of response, but for the life of you, you can’t seem to fathom one. “The me from now, that is; I didn’t just look in a mirror and go mad for a few minutes.” He’s surprisingly blase about the whole ordeal, and you match his tone easily.

“Sounds like you came close.” He gives you a gentle shove at your words, snickering, but his expression soon sobers as he slips back into being contemplative. “How come you never told us? Did it go alright?” You ask, gentle, and Roger chuckles.

“If it went alright you’d think I’d be blabbing about it, or the old bastard would be here with us now,” he tsked loudly, sitting up a little straighter and shaking his head, “I don’t know when he got his balls cut off but the me that I know wouldn’t pass up this,” and he gestures to himself, indignant at the very memory of his future-self rejecting him, “I mean, who would know how to fuck me better than me?” He has a point, but you’re not going to give him the satisfaction of agreeing.

“You tried... to seduce yourself?” You asked, a little incredulous.

“Never got that far.” Roger grumbled, taking another draft. Silence once again stretches between the two of you; there’s more to the story, of this you’re sure, so for now you’re content to sit and wait as the sky grows steadily darker above you. “First thing he said was that ‘this is what those two kids meant’; did you and Ben go talk to him?” He asked, and you hummed thoughtfully.

“After the first time you disappeared,” you admit, and he hums, low and thoughtful, “we were worried, you know? Thought if anyone would know anything it would be, well, you.”

“He doesn’t remember anything, probably never will.” Roger says, and he can feel when you shift to look at him. “It’s not because he’s old or anything, or maybe, ‘s not like I’d know, he was bloody unrecognisable if I’m being honest.” Roger isn’t one to rant like this, not so seriously, not without humour, it was strange. His gaze was fixed on the horizon. “It’s a side effect of all of this, the memory thing that is; when I go back, it’s like I never left, like as soon as I’m brought here, time freezes back in the seventies, but the universe or whatever, it locks away all my memories of this, the future, probably so I don’t screw up the past.” He mused.

“But you remember us when you come back.” It’s difficult to wrap your mind around all of this, but he gives your shoulder a firm squeeze, knowing your trying.

“Only takes me about ten minutes now, to remember where I am, how to find you lot.” He laughs, and it sounds a little fond, enough to ease the tension in your chest that his ranting had caused. You didn’t like to see him like this, you wouldn’t begrudge him for it, but it made you worry. “It’s weird, you know, remembering that I’d forgotten everything, and then trying to see how far forward I’ve jumped this time; I wish time ‘d stand still here too.”

“The world waits for you.” You say softly, and he hums, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“On occasion.” He agrees. “Meeting me from now made me realise something though,” and he sounds a little forlorn when he says it, and he stubs out his cigarette in the ash tray beside the sofa.

“What’s that?” You asked, and there’s was a long moment of silence. He can’t look at you.

“That one day I must just stop coming back.”