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whatifyoulivelikethat · 4 years ago

Text

tuxedo iv, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader, mentions of previous jungkook x reader

summary: Your life? Oh, it’s normal. Your cat turned into a man yesterday and you just now humped his leg to orgasm. Sorry, what? That’s not normal? O-Of course, it is! It’s like... having a roommate! You argue because you recorded him without his consent. You eat noodles that he’s trying not to bat at all meal. There are skeletons in your closet. Your fingers get stuck in a Chinese finger trap and then you get fingered. Totally normal, by the way!

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, mentions of the coronavirus pandemic; possibly full-on crack; Yoongi LOVES his box; smut (fem reader, mild restraint, penetrative sex, forced orgasms, intentional voyeurism (tsk tsk, Shooky), fingering); domestic and soft moments with your cat-man; non-idol!AU - cat!Yoongi x human!reader; ft shy boy Jeon Jungkook (gasp!!!) POV and bestfriend!Kim Seokjin POV; breaking of the fourth wall; you ARE a furry, oh well

yes, I reference Jin’s iconic Billboard interview answer, The Lion King (1994), Yoongi’s BTS café cereal milkshake, Bill Nye the Science Guy, PENTAGON’s ‘DO or NOT’ / ‘Shine’ / ‘Humph!”, “you got no jams”, The Addams Family (1991) – also there’s a bit of a meme scavenger hunt, I reference too many to list XD

–

part i | part ii | part iii

So.

You kinda.

Humped your cat-man’s thigh to orgasm.

You animal.

“Ah… Yoongi,” you started as your cat… man tilted his head, blinking slowly. Unnerving. Why was he staring like that? It reminded you of his previous cat self, where Shooky would watch you with his minty-green eyes, cat face expressionless, whiskers unmoving. What were cats thinking about all the time anyway?

Better yet, what the fuck was Min Yoongi thinking?

You knew what you were thinking. You were thinking that you couldn’t stare at you cum stain on his pink silk pajama leg all day, because that was a master yikes. He had tons of clothes still piled next to the front door of your apartment. All you had to do was convince him to change his outfit. Simple. Easy. Don’t make this weird. Be casual. Be cool as a cucumber. Chill out.

“Um… You should… take off the pajamas… so I can wash them… there are still more clothes you need to try on from the order, right…?”

Your dignity threw up their hands. Why do I even bother being here? I get ignored, the brain in here is smoother than KY Jelly on glass, and you would know, wouldn’t you, you–

“Take them off for me.”

“… P… Pardon?”

“I’m joking.”

He raised an eyebrow, glancing down at your raised hands. You abruptly dropped them, shoving them behind your back. When did that happen? Why did you make grabby hands like that? Surely not because you were expecting anything, right? Definitely not. Not you.

You need help.

Yoongi turned around, black fur tall swishing, the back of his pink silk pants half-lowered. Your jaw went slack, only to forcefully shut back into place as you realized he was still wearing his black boxer briefs since you had spent yesterday sewing tail holes in his convenience store underwear. Of course, he was still wearing them. There was no reason to take them off.

What, did you want to look at his booty again or something?

(Yes.)

He went through the doorframe of your bedroom without saying a word.

Hold on a second.

Did Yoongi let you ride his thigh to orgasm, be sweet to you for two seconds, only to fucking bounce without a peep of acknowledgment? Just fucking yeet? Act like that was totally ordinary behavior and saunter off?

Say sike right now.

A millisecond of bravery shot through you and you bolted out of your chair, your desk rattling with your sudden action.

"Yoongi–!"

You nearly collided into him. You weren’t expecting him to be facing you and you yelped in surprise, skidding on your heels. His hands stopped your hips, freezing you in place so you didn't barrel headfirst into his chest. You flailed about, struggling to regain your balance. All this happening while he continued giving you that deadpan stare. Did anything faze this (cat) man? Shit, you were too close to his face. So close you could feel his breath on your nose.

"You should change too."

Brain malfunctioning at the softness of his tone.

"... W-What?"

Then your neck, ears, face, even your past and future self, the whole timeline became hotter than a supernova, brain erupting into nuclear fusion as Yoongi's deft fingers slid up to the waistband of your leggings, hooking underneath, stroking your skin. He leaned forward, dark eyes out of your vision, chin hovering above your shoulder.

"Urk?!"

He started pushing your leggings down.

He started.

Pushing.

Them.

DOWN!!!

"You can't stay like this all day, right?" Yoongi murmured gently, voice so deep it was resonating in your empty brain, completely clear of all thoughts except those cool fingers pushing your black leggings down, the skintight fabric catching your soaked panties and taking those on the path to hell too, which was probably where you were headed at the rate this was going. "It would be a good idea to change clothes, I think."

You think, Yoongi?

Not you.

You don't have think.

A shrill barrage of low meowing cut through the silence.

Your phone was ringing violently in your room. Yoongi paused, backing up with a frown.

"Why is your ringtone a cat chattering?" he asked, tilting his head quizzically. The continuing sonata of cat chitters escalated before his dark eyes narrowed in recognition. He glared at you and pulled his hands away from your hips, snapping you out of your daze.

"You recorded me?"

"What, what, what?" You blinked rapidly, hearing the familiar sharp chirps and barks of Shooky the cat yelling at birds outside the window. "Oh! Well, yeah... it was funny," you explained weakly, trying to shake out the fog of your horny brain.

"There's nothing funny about trespassers," Yoongi hissed, turning his heel and swiftly marching away.

"Trespassers?" you echoed, blinking in confusion. That’s why he yelled at them as a cat? Did he think he owned all the land the sun touches or something? The sound was getting louder and louder, indicating the call was about to be missed. No time to think about it. You rushed back into your room, nearly half tripping with your leggings only partway on your ass, scrambling to answer your phone. There was an uncomfortable squish between your legs. Yikes. You did need to change.

"Hello? Oh, yes, the video? I'm putting it in the Dropbox right now," you babbled, clicking out of a bizarre pop-up ad with some brown-haired guy in a sienna floral shirt and a boxy smile before placing the exported video in the shared Dropbox folder.

"Sorry, yeah, I know I usually have it done earlier. It's been a weird couple of days..."

Kim Seokjin was furious.

Furious!

His best friend ignored his face. His beautiful face! How could she! He fumed, deciding to instead spend his time wisely, as he always did.

He stared at his reflection and nodded, stroking his chin. Yes. A true winner. Look at that brilliant smile. Perfect. He looked great today, as he did every day. Seokjin looked away from the mirror on his desk and went back to his MapleStory life.

After a quick change and final edits of the completed video sent off to the client, you left your room to find that Yoongi had stacked his new clothes on the coffee table. The brown cardboard box was on the sofa with him (???), as if it was a human being instead of an ordinary box. He had neatly folded the plastic packaging and placed it on the kitchen counter so you could sort it into the correct recycling.

"Oh... thanks."

He was now wearing a white t-shirt and black pants that actually seemed like they fit, the back of said pants halfway down his butt to accommodate for his tail. He was watching that historical drama; eyes glued the television. The dark brown orbs were hidden by his curtain of black hair. His pointed black ears were turned away from your direction, as if he had no desire to listen to anything you had to say.

As usual.

Yoongi's response was grunting disapprovingly at you.

You sighed, feeling a little guilty.

"To be fair, I couldn't really ask your consent when you were a cat."

Your cat-man appeared to be out of fucks to give. "You should do laundry," he huffed gruffly.

You scooted away awkwardly. "Er... yeah. Let me order some delivery for lunch first..."

"Yoongi."

"What?"

"What are you doing?"

He stared at his chopsticks, holding them up high.

"Hmm..."

His pink lips twisted, narrowing his eyes. The fingers in his other hand twitched. He had been staring at the noodles in his ramen for the past five minutes. They were probably cold now. You were getting a bit worried that he didn't like carbs or something. But then you realized that wasn't the case.

His fingers twitched again.

"They're noodles. Not string."

Yoongi didn't reply, itching to bat at the long noodles.

"Just put them in your mouth."

He gave you this look. As if to tell you, you don't usually say that. Usually someone else tells you that.

You thinned your mouth into a line.

"I know you're admiring the skinny legend that is noodles, but, yes, they're edible. Need I remind you that you used to eat string and I had to pull it out of your mouth when you choked on it?"

Yoongi scowled. Apparently, he did not like being reminded. It wasn’t that pleasant for you to remember either. At least you never had to wait until it passed through his body and never had to pull it out of the other end (ew). He peered them for several more seconds before putting them in his mouth. You noticed his ears perked up as he ate.

"You like them?" you asked.

He hummed, not looking at you. Was Yoongi still angry about the recording thing? You weren't changing your ringtone regardless of his dissatisfaction. It was cute. You liked it. And he was being a drama queen, acting all catty.

Hold on.

He was a cat.

(Man.)

"What is this?"

"Dessert."

You took a sip and choked a little at the grainy taste.

"Is that cereal?"

"Yeah. It's too hard. Better this way."

You gawked at him, holding the weird cereal milkshake with one hand and his half-sewn pants in the other. Was Yoongi being serious or fucking with you? You couldn't tell. His expression was completely neutral. His cat ears were straight up, trained in your direction, judging your reaction. He lifted his free hand and dropped a handful of rice crisps on the top of the thick white drink.

Well.

Not your preferred thick white drink.

(You nasty.)

He nodded sagely and sat down beside you.

"Show me how to sew."

We interrupt your regularly scheduled program for you to, please, consider the following.

See, by all recommendations of building healthy relationships, you should have been a responsible human being and had a serious, but necessary, conversation with your (new?) cat-man.

Hey, Yoongi, I find you quite physically attractive and we had that moment in my bedroom, so maybe there's some chemistry and, oh, I don't know, maybe you could stick that prefect looking dick inside me because I've been thinking about it nonstop since (checking watch) the literal second I realized it existed, not to be too forward or anything, you know?

That kind of speech could get you a quick restraining order in most cases, but this was your cat (man) who had lived with you – maybe against his will but, then again, he got fed regularly and when you were previously a stray you can’t complain.

So.

Do or not?

Hmm...

You could have admitted these things, but, alas, this was not the way. No, the way was to remain an absolute fucking mess every time Yoongi leaned over your shoulder to inspect your needlework, nearly stabbing yourself in the finger, your heart leaping your throat, strangling yourself with anxiety.

Fun!

Could everything be quickly solved by telling the truth?

Debatable. Yoongi didn’t seem like the kind of (cat) man to give you a straight answer. Not because he couldn’t. Mostly because he seemed to enjoy watching you struggle. Were you picking up on that?

No. You were too busy thinking about dick.

His dick.

Honestly, don't know if you should laugh or cry right now.

Jeon Jungkook flipped his phone around and around in his hand, scrunching up his face.

Should he say something?

Yes. No. Yes? No. Yes… No, no, no.

He sighed and threw his phone onto his bed.

He missed and it slid off, hitting the floor.

That was a bad sign.

“Shit.”

He dived onto the bed, scabbing around on the hardwood to pick up the fallen device. Ah, how come he was thinking about this now? He knew why. He had watched a funny cat video of a tuxedo cat and it reminded him of a certain naughty little fluffball always following around a certain owner. Jungkook hadn’t contacted said owner in nearly a year. Wouldn’t it look bad if he said anything now? But he couldn’t not think about it either. That smile was on his mind all the time now. That feeling from back then, floating around in his head. He sighed again, followed by inhaling with his upper teeth pressed against his inner lower lip, creating a loud sucking sound that no one else could hear because he lived alone.

Alone.

Jungkook lifted his phone, dying sunlight reflecting off the screen, a shine that blinded him for a short moment. He clicked his tongue, squinting as he spied the number still on the screen.

“Ah, why am I always a loser in front of love?”

He wasn’t really saying it to anyone in particular. No one could reply to him anyway.

He tossed the phone carelessly on the pillow and it slid behind it, falling in between the mattress and the bedframe.

“Shit!”

Jungkook spent five minutes fishing his phone out of the narrow crevice before firmly placing it on the bed beside him, pointing at it angrily, glaring at it.

“No! Bad.”

The phone did nothing. It was not sentiment.

Humph! He let out a frustrated puff of breath and flopped down on the bed.

His phone flew up from the force of his flop and smacked him in the nuts.

“SHIT!”

“Huh, you pick up things so fast. So meticulous.”

You watched as Yoongi brought the needle through the fabric in slow but clean strokes, following your previous demonstration. For someone who only had opposable thumbs for less than two days, he was surprisingly dexterous. Seemed like he could do a lot with his hands. No. Stop that. Stop being weird.

“Are you a genius?”

Yoongi didn’t hesitate, not looking up.

“Of course.”

You regretted asking. He continued, oblivious to your annoyed expression.

“I’m a cat.”

“All cats are geniuses?” you retorted disbelievingly.

“Most of them are.” His eyes flickered to you, eyebrows raising. “Compared to humans anyway.”

Was this a dig at you and your missing brain cells after running into things chasing after him and your brain exploding at his hotness? Which he wasn’t, by the way. Yeah, that’s right. Take that, Min Yoongi! You’re being mean, so therefore your attractiveness points are going down in this brain, yes, they are and there’s nothing you can do about it, yup, absolutely NOTHING–

He held up the pants, showing off his handiwork.

“Did I do a good job?”

His voice was soft, unsure, head slightly tilted, velvety ears eagerly perked to listen to your response.

Oh no.

Oh nooo.

Oh nooooooo.

He’s cute.

“Yeah. That looks amazing, Yoongi,” you heard yourself saying, smiling at him.

His fair-skinned cheeks flushed pink, lowering the pants quickly to snip the excess thread off, placing the needle in the cat-shaped pincushion like you had done earlier so he could carefully tie a knot to seal his hard work.

Shit.

You were whipped for him.

Damnnit.

To be honest, nothing had changed. You were whipped for him as a cat too.

“I’m going to clear out some space the closet so you have somewhere to put your clothes, okay?”

“A-ah… Thanks…” he mumbled, picking up another pair of pants. Jeans this time.

“Oh, with these you can simply cut the hole. No need to sew because this type of fabric won’t fray too much. Ah, but not directly on the seam. Maybe here?” You pointed slightly to the right of the back middle seam. Your mouth kept talking despite not having any more instructions for him. “Did you know the butt rip was fashionable among women for a little while? Under the pocket though, not the center. That’s just weird.”

Yoongi tilted his head the other way.

“Women are weird,” he said in a deadpan voice.

You narrowed your eyes. “Oi.”

He picked up the scissors, raising an eyebrow at you. “Are you not weird?”

You opened your mouth to reply, but nothing came out. He’s got you there. Shit. You puffed your cheeks and turned around, stalking off to your bedroom. Why was he always right? One day, he won’t be right and you’ll mark it on your fucking calendar. Humph.

You slowed at your doorframe, remembering his sheepishly proud face as he showed off his sewing. Crap. What was Min Yoongi so cute for? And how were you supposed to look at other guys after knowing your cat (man) was so damn adorable? And observant and diligent? And driven to be independent, asking questions and trying to do things on his own not even forty-eight hours after becoming human? Cooking, sewing, folding his own clothes… what’s next, playing the fucking piano?

Yeah, right.

You snorted and went into your bedroom.

“What’s this?”

You looked up, half-buried in idol merchandise you didn’t even know you had. How long had these sweatshirts been sitting here in their plastic packages? And these posters left in the tubes at the back of your closet? You shouldn’t own so much stuff. You should sell it. You weren’t going to, because these were limited edition items and you would have to be crazy to sell stuff with the cute faces of your favorite idols. You stuck you head out of the closet to see what Yoongi was referring to.

“What? Oh, that?”

You wheezed in embarrassment, ducking back in the closet, pretending to be busy.

“Uh… so… YouTube and Twitch had a crackdown on using copyrighted music and I thought, well, maybe I could maybe make my own, so I brought a keyboard but, uh…”

You rubbed the back of your head sheepishly, trying to figure out how to say you had no musical inclination and only had the ability to appreciate it.

“Basically, I got no jams.”

The keyboard was still in its box. You had opened it and attempted to learn piano, but well, you were shit. Also, you gave up pretty quickly. It was embarrassing considering you had spent so much money on it and were all confident when buying it, only for it to become a hidden occupant in the back of your closet. This was before Shooky – er, Yoongi – had come into your life. Yes. It had been there for literal years.

“I was going to donate it,” you added with a sigh.

You suddenly noticed something out of the corner of your eye. You frowned and reached in, grabbing the thin, hard object before pulling it out.

A…

Skeleton in your closet.

A long-lost Halloween decoration? Why was this here?

“Can I have it?”

You looked up, holding the mysterious plastic skeleton like a small child. “What?”

Yoongi pointed to the keyboard box, black tail swishing rapidly. There was a liveliness in his dark brown eyes and his pointed ears were sticking straight up. You narrowed your eyes.

“You don’t want that skinny box for some reason, do you?” you accused.

He pursed his lips at you, scowling. “No, you can throw away the box. I want to keep the keyboard.”

Huh? “Uh… okay, I guess. More space in the closet, I suppose. Oh, wait…” You stumbled into the back of the closet, feeling around. “I brought a stand for it, hold on… fuck!” You jammed your finger against a metal pole and howled, quickly retreating your hand to massage it. Fuck, that hurt! Scowling, you reached back in to grab the metal keyboard stand and yank it out from between your tightly packed clothes.

“Are you dead?”

“Shit!”

You jumped nearly ten feet, almost banging your head on the clothing rail if it wasn’t for Yoongi’s swift movement of grabbing your shoulders, pulling you to him. He didn’t have to pull far, because he was right behind you. How did he always sneak up on you when he wore a damn bell around his neck that announced his presence? Sorcery. Aliens. Voodoo witchcraft. Now you were convinced these things existed.

(Your cat turning into a man wasn’t enough for you to believe in magic? What’s wrong with you?)

“You’re really clumsy,” Yoongi remarked.

No, you’re spooky, you thought. One of your hands was on his chest. Instant heart palpitations. And handsome. Crap.

“Are you going to do something weird again?”

Weird? You were never weird. What was this man going on about? You needed to reprimand him. Put him in his place! Enough is enough, Min Yoongi! You can’t win over me every time! You raised your head to face him, opening your mouth to give him a piece of your mind.

Yoongi was centimeters away from your face.

You froze.

Ice effect overlapping your whole body.

You dropped the keyboard stand.

Thankfully, it simply fell against your clothing, leaning against your sweatshirts. It stayed upright, held up by the clothing. You didn’t have to worry about it for the time being. It was perfectly fine, unlike you. You were not fine. Not fine at all, staring at Yoongi’s upturned upper lip and unreadable dark brown eyes, slowly blinking at you. Hands on your shoulders, holding you close to him.

Not letting go.

!!!

Jeon Jungkook placed his phone on his desk and chopped the air, threatening it.

It wasn’t sentient.

He still didn’t trust it.

He glared at his phone angrily and shuffled back to his bed to have a nice, calm rest that didn’t involve his nuts getting destroyed. Ugh. He was bored. He had plenty to do. Schoolwork. Studying. Cleaning his room covered in clothes. Attempting to cook.

Jungkook made a face at the ceiling.

The last time he tried to cook some glazed sweet potatoes they had been glued to the plate somehow. A neat magic trick, but not edible. He couldn’t get them to unstick, much less be eaten. He had to order out that night. Come to think of it, he spent most of his money on ordering out. Maybe that was a bad habit.

He ran a hand through his bleached, blond hair that had too much toner in it so it had turned slightly silvery-purple. An at-home experiment. Another bad habit.

Jungkook groaned, rolling onto his face.

“I need someone older to take care of me,” he mumbled into the sheets.

Someone older… with a certain tuxedo cat, perhaps? He pouted even though no one was there to witness his cuteness.

“Ahhhhhhh…”

He yelled quietly into his bedding, letting go.

Finally thinking about you.

In front of you, he could tease. He could poke fun. It was easy. You were just so flustered around him, not really trying to hide your attraction to him. The first time he had met you was when he went bowling with Seokjin-hyung (he won, much to the disdain of his hyung). You had stopped by to say hello and Seokjin had introduced you two. It had been a fairly innocent meeting, mostly because for a long time Jungkook couldn’t open his mouth to say anything at all. You were wearing a huge white t-shirt with a colorful strawberry graphic, a wide-brimmed straw hat, and white sneakers with black laces. It had been a hot summer day, he remembered. You were already pretty simply by standing there, chatting animatedly with his hyung. Jungkook tried not to look too closely, sneaking glances in between your conversation.

Seokjin had absolutely no qualms about shitting on your outfit.

“Yah, grandma, you’re off to pick some strawberries in the field or something?”

You had shoved him, rolling your eyes. “You’re a grandpa too! Look at you, losing to kid.”

Was that referring to him? “Ah, I’m not a kid.” Shit. His Busan dialect slipped out a little in his nervousness, deepening his voice.

Your cheeks had peppered pink. “A-ah… right…”

Oh?

Oh!

Oh!!!

You shook your head abruptly and reached into your tuxedo-cat-printed tote bag. “Here’s your freaking hard drive, you monkey,” you had said to Seokjin, handing over the small paper bag.

“Did you manage to restore all my files?” Seokjin asked worriedly, completely ignoring your insult.

You shrugged, looking rueful. “I don’t know how many you had, but I did the best I could.” You leaned forward, eyes narrowing, whispering in his ear. Didn’t matter. Jungkook was close enough to hear.

“Stop downloading porn!”

Jungkook snorted.

Seokjin glared at you. “Excuse me, I am living a healthy lifestyle, do not judge me!” he hissed. “And not in front of the child!”

Yeah, well, Jungkook didn’t let you think he was a child for long.

He wasn't really sure why he was attracted to you. It wasn't only because you were pretty. He just had a strong urge to get a reaction out of you. Ah, maybe that was it. He liked seeing your reactions to things and did everything he could to get more and more interesting reactions out of you. You never told Jungkook to stop. You told Seokjin to stop all the time.

"I swear if you make one more pun, I'm going to tie your tongue into a knot!"

"Then I'd really be tongue-tied, eh? Eh?! WAIT, NO, WATCH THE FACE, NOT MY FACE!!!"

Jungkook couldn't help himself. He had to mess with you.

Fuck.

(Yes, actually.)

He couldn't stop. It was too fun. It didn't help that you had a cute surprised face. Didn't help that you had a great smile. Didn’t help that you had an amazing body under your clothes and knew exactly how to use it (Jungkook wouldn’t admit it, but he learned a lot from you). Didn't help that you would chase after your tuxedo cat and scoop up that furball even after getting railed by him, which Jungkook found very impressive.

"Shooky, you loon, I told you to stop running on the counters..."

And you would cradle that cat to your chest, petting his head and waiting for him to purr and lick your nose before releasing him, satisfied that he was no longer going to be a menace. He still was though. He was a cat. You forgave Shooky every time.

Just like how you let Jungkook get away with everything.

Present Jungkook frowned, rolling onto his back, frowning at the ceiling. Maybe you thought he was a fuckboy and had a negative image of him. He scratched his head, tongue in cheek, thinking hard. No. You didn't seem like the type. You were never angry at him, not really, not even when he interrupted your work to mess around in bed. Exasperated, maybe, but it never seemed like you were holding an internal grudge or upset at his nonchalant actions. Ah, but he hadn’t tried to talk to you in almost a whole year. Would you think he was a dick if he tried to contact you now? He couldn’t ask you. He couldn’t ask your best friend. Seokjin-hyung still had no idea.

Jungkook laughed to himself.

He kind of went behind his hyung's back, whoops.

He looked to his left side, the side you used to fall asleep on when he spent the night. He could imagine it, your past self and his past self, your hair on your pillow, blankets loosely over your chest, his hand on your breasts as you slept.

A pair of mint-green eyes glaring at him from the left side of your body.

Jungkook remembered poking that pink nose with his index finger, the rest of his hand still on your tits. The tuxedo cat had given him a very displeased look.

"Are you mad?"

The cat didn't reply. He was a cat.

"You're really lucky. You get to be with her every day," Jungkook had whispered, not wanting to wake you up. "She takes good care of you, you know. I see how much she loves you."

The cat closed his eyes, resting his furry head on your arm.

"Do you love her back?"

Maybe. Maybe not. Jungkook didn't know. He wasn't a cat. He couldn't ask in cat language. He let go of your breasts for a second to scratch the top of Shooky's head, right between those velvety ears. He began purring like a little motor.

You continued your adventures in la la land, oblivious to this interaction.

"I guess cats are kind of simple, huh?" Jungkook mused, smoothing out the black fur on top of that little head. "You don't have to think about much. You don't have to get a job, plan for the future, or worry about being a good husband."

His hand lowered.

"But I do."

You breathed softly against him, nuzzling closer to his body. Jungkook put his hand back on your breasts and you stilled, lost in your dreams. He breathed out, warmth against your skin. He saw the side of your lips twitch ever so slightly upwards, but maybe it was only his imagination wishing to see what he wanted.

Only a wish.

He had placed his nose by your cheek and breathed in, losing himself in dreams as well.

Yoongi looked into your eyes.

Then both of you turned to opposite sides and sneezed loudly.

"Fuck–"

"That was horrible," Yoongi hissed, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand and backing up. "Ugh, human bodies are awful."

You shook your head roughly. "Someone must be thinking about me... and you, I guess..." you mumbled, clearing your head before prodding him in the chest. "Also, last time I checked, now you're human too, so jokes on you. Hope you enjoy the suffering!" You stuck your tongue out childishly.

Yoongi gave you an annoyed look, reaching over you to grab the keyboard stand. You stiffened at his closeness, but he quickly withdrew, taking the metal stand and leaving you disappointed, but not surprised. Couldn't even pretend to be shocked.

He lifted it up so it wouldn’t drag on the floor and began to walk out of the room, ignoring you.

Classic.

You thinned your mouth into a line and picked up the white plastic skeleton. What to do with this? Fuck it. Back into the closet it goes, along with your winter wardrobe, summer wardrobe, and other knickknacks.

Well.

Maybe you could donate a couple things to charity.

Like this Chinese finger trap. Why was this here?

You stuck your fingers in it.

S... shit!

Yoongi reappeared to grab the keyboard. You opened your mouth, about to ask for help, looking up to see your cat-man standing in the doorframe of your bedroom, glaring. Very displeased and disapproving, reminding you a whole lot of a certain tuxedo fluffball.

"I'll say it again."

Huh? You gave him a confused look.

He pointed to his pointed, velvety black ears.

"I'm a cat, duh."

And then he walked out. Fuck him. You didn't need his help.

You couldn’t get it off.

Panik!

Yes, you can. It was just a finger trap. You were smart. You graduated university. You had been a human for many more years than Min Yoongi. He had been human for two days! And besides, Yoongi was mean. You didn’t need a meanie to help you. You were a strong, independent woman who didn’t need no (cat) man.

Kalm.

You…

You couldn’t get it off!!!

PANIK!!!!!!!

“… What are you doing?”

You were the epitome of the emoji holding back tears.

“Y… Yoongi…” you whined.

He blinked at you, holding the manual of the keyboard upside down. The keyboard was already set up on the stand, pushed up against one of the walls of your living room. He was using the cardboard box that his clothes came in – he really loved that damn box – as a makeshift seat.

“Are you dying?”

You held up your hands, pouting. The bronze dragon Chinese finger trap was still stuck on your index fingers. It had been roughly twenty, maybe thirty minutes.

Your cat-man just blinked at you and it.

“I… can’t get it off… Help…”

He raised an eyebrow and put the manual on the keyboard before walking over to you. He placed his chin in between his index finger and his thumb, frowning. Looking this way and that. The realization was slowly kicking in.

Yoongi wasn’t hiding his smirk very well.

“You know how to take it off!” you howled, smacking him in the chest.

He cackled, backing up as you repeatedly whacked him with the back of your hands, furious because it was obvious that he knew what to do and was simply not doing it to piss you off, his grin getting wider and wider, still not saying anything, this little shit, backing up into your living room as you chased him, stupid cat-man was fucking fast, dodging you easily, your joined hands and annoyed demeanor making you a bit wobbly.

“Min Yoongi, I swear I’ll–”

“You’ll what?” he teased, raising his hands in mock innocence. “Maybe I don’t know?”

You scowled at him. “You definitely know.”

He smirked.

Shit.

It was sexy and you were supposed to be mad!

You were next to the keyboard now. And a certain something. Hm. You jerked your head to the cardboard box. His eyes widened.

“You wouldn’t do such a thing.”

“I would.”

“You wouldn’t, you heathen.”

“You better fucking believe I would!”

(You’re threatening to recycle a cardboard box to force your cat-man to get you out of a metal finger trap that you put yourself in. Um, are you okay? Better yet, are both of you okay???)

He marched over to you, relenting with an angry huff, yanking up your hands.

“There’s a trick to it, of course.”

He pressed the dragon’s horns in tandem with the dragon’s beard on either side and the trap released your red fingers, making you gasp at the sudden freedom. Holy shit. You stared at your freed index fingers. You had two hands. Wow. Amazing. Show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique…

Yoongi placed the finger trap on the coffee table.

“Hmph. This thing is probably only worth three dollars.”

You poked your index fingers together, suddenly ashamed. “Sorry I threatened your box.”

Yoongi grunted, cat ears flicking back and forth in annoyance.

You poked his stomach with your index fingers. “Er… I just… wanted you to help me...”

“You weren’t going to do it anyway.”

You puffed your cheeks, narrowing your eyes, irritation flaring back. “Well, maybe I was! What were you going to do, leave me like that, unable to use my hands for the rest of my life?” You jabbed him repeatedly in the chest, driving your point home in between your snappish words. “Hmm? I need hands to do things! Important things!”

Yoongi suddenly grabbed your wrists and held them up over your head.

(Aw shit, here we go again.)

“Y-Yoongi?!”

He raised an eyebrow at you.

“What important things do you need to do with your hands?” he asked.

Oh shit.

Oh no.

Why was his vice suddenly so deep? Did he even know???

Your eyes widened, brain malfunctioning, your last two working brain cells rushing to the library to find the book titled ‘things you can do with your hands’, opening it, reading, handsy things. That was it. That was all you had at this moment. Why was it that your brain had the memory equal to the RAM of a fucking Tamagotchi every time your cat-man touched you?

Oh, yeah, that’s right, because he was a cat literally two days ago and you never thought about fucking your cat because that’s just fucking weird, but now he’s a man, so maybe it’s okay, unless it’s not, and then what does that make you? FUCKING WEIRD, THAT’S WHAT.

You yelped as your back collided to the wall. When had you walked that far? What was going on? What was life??? You were yanked back to reality as Yoongi leaned down, tilting his head, eyebrow still cocked, dark eyes darker from his fluffy black hair falling over his eyes.

“I hear you don’t always like being able to use your hands.”

Holyfuckingshitcrap.

Instantly, your cheerful brain decided to play the memory of you begging Jeon Jungkook to hold down your wrists so you couldn’t stop him and his relentless assault on your pussy, one hand grasping both your wrists and the other rubbing two fingers on your clit, thrusting his hard cock in and out of you as he abused the sensitive bundle of nerves, pinning you to your bed, panting in your face.

“You like this, noona?” Jungkook had purred.

(Respectfully.)

Voice low, deep, and sexy, driving you insane, waves of pleasure crashing into you over and over, pussy throbbing with repeated orgasm.

“F-Fuck, yes, oh fuck, Jungkook, yes… don’t s-stooop…”

Shooky had sat on the highest level of his cat tree, glaring down at you two.

Shit, shit, shit…

Yoongi leaned in even more, eyes disappearing, lips next to your ear. You felt him transfer one of your wrists to his other hand, now holding both with one hand as the other fell against your body.

“In fact, I’ve seen it firsthand,” he whispered, low, soft, dangerous.

Your brain ended the film reel in your head, giving you two mental thumbs-up and beaming happily at you as if it had done a great thing.

No, brain.

You’ve fucked me over and now I’m horny as fuck!

A needy whimper popped out of you as Yoongi’s free hand slipped between your bodies, fingers dancing deftly across the fabric of your sweatshirt, following the rhythm of your racing heart as it went down, down, too fast, sanity unable to keep up, you rising into his touch, his fingers sliding underneath the waistband of your leggings. This pair wasn’t as tight as the previous pair, but the fabric still clung to your skin just as tightly.

Wait. Is that you? Moaning?

(Yes.)

He dragged them down your hips, having to let go of the waistband for a moment to push them past the sides before resuming, you moaning in the space where he should have a human ear, but he didn’t, because Yoongi was a cat-man and his pointed furry ears were at the top of his head.

“Y… Yoongi…”

“Hm?”

His soft lips lightly pressed against your ear and you shivered. His grip on your wrists wasn’t very tight. You could break out any time. He was only loosely holding you.

“I… I am…” you quivered, voice shaking.

“I want to make you feel good.”

His murmur was so gentle, so calm, so quiet that it almost didn’t feel real. Almost a purr.

“Do you want me to make you feel good?”

Thump.

“Yes.”

You said it.

Your panties were leaving with your leggings, shoved down mid-thigh. Your name in your ear, spoken by Min Yoongi, his body hovering over yours, black hair against your cheek, his fingers slipping between your legs, your heart slamming in your chest, thighs squeezing his hand.

“Feels nice here,” Yoongi mumbled, breath feathering on your skin. A single finger grazed your wetness and you gasped, his raspy chuckle in your ear. “Wet.”

Your eye twitched, slightly annoyed. No, really? Thanks for letting me know, it’s not like I can fucking feel it myself or anything, I absolutely need your riveting play-by-play–

“Urk!”

Yoongi scooped two fingers into your pussy and felt around inside, rubbing his fingertips against your throbbing walls.

“Ah…” He was breathing hard, pushing them in joint by joint, his own inhale shallowing. “Fuck, it’s so tight in here, are you alright?”

Oh, my fucking God, Yoongi, just fucking destroy me, I’m not a virgin!

You sucked in a shaking breath, mentally beating your inner thot back down. “F-Feels really nice, Yoongi… just… a little more…” He sank his fingers all the way to the knuckles. “Fuuuck, yes, oh, fuck yes…”

You rocked your hips into it, moaning, eyes closing, building up a pace, not really waiting for him to figure out that he could move his fingers too. It didn’t matter though, because Yoongi was highly observant and diligent, and, as much as you avoided to admit it, he had seen you get fingered hundreds of times, all over the apartment, in all sorts of embarrassing positions and with plenty of visible, graphic, high-definition detail, better than any porn video.

By – yup, you guessed it – Jeon Jungkook.

Yoongi began his own pace to match yours, thrusting his two fingers in and out until you were a hopeless mess, whining and bucking against his touch, your juices coating his hand, staring up at the ceiling with the tips of his black ears in your peripheral vision, tilted towards you to listen to every single one of your sounds. His heavy exhale invaded your head, lost in Yoongi’s rhythm that was uniquely his, only able to cry out, harder or faster, losing yourself in him, his scent, the smell of your vanilla body wash, and the rapidly strengthening sweetness between your legs rising up despite it dripping down your thighs.

“Yoongi… oh, fuck, Yoongi…”

It just felt too good, speed, strength, sound, wet messy squelches of his fingers entering you over and over, your pussy responding in kind, shuddering around them, clenching tight, hips rocking into every plunge to deepen the stroke, prolonging your own orgasm, savoring the moment.

“You feel so good…”

That wasn’t you.

That was Yoongi.

Whispering in your ear, probably not even realizing his own dirty talk.

“So fucking wet and warm,” he murmured, the rumble purring in his chest, soothing but also far too sexy. “Sucking my fingers back in, fucking me back… You really like me this much?” His lips brushed your ear, chaste kisses compared to the rough fingering of his slippery digits pushing into you repeatedly, the sounds getting louder and lewder because you were getting wetter and wetter. “Am I really that good-looking to you?”

Yoongi, are you BLIND, DEAF, or BOTH???

“Fuck yes, you are, what the fuck?” you gasped out, turning your head slightly, one of his dark brown eyes locking with yours, your jaw clenched with the effort of you holding back your orgasm to respond to his ludicrous question. “You are so fucking handsome I couldn’t even last two days of being in your presence, thirsting after you!”

You heard Yoongi chuckle, the sound resonating and teasing your ear.

“Actually, you couldn’t even last one, remember?” he drawled slyly.

His knuckle grazed your throbbing, aroused clit.

“Fuck!”

Your body twisted, whining wail torn out of you as you came, pushing your head and hands against the wall, nerves sparking and shaking, intense pleasure flooding all over your senses from holding back, breathless whimpers of Yoongi’s name, grinding into his hand. He let go of your wrists. They prickled with pins and needles of lost circulation, but you didn’t give a shit, grabbing his hand between your legs and shoving it back in you before it could retreat, riding out your orgasm, milking it for every single gram of ecstasy, cherishing every single second of another’s hand inside you, not just another but your disturbingly attractive man who was previously a cat sleeping in your lap exactly forty-eight hours ago as you innocently watched American Horror Story.

“Y… Yoongi?” you panted, orgasm petering out, trickling waves subsiding.

“Y… Yes?”

He wasn’t making fun of you. You could hear the nervousness in his voice.

“Can I kiss you?”

His face appeared in front of yours.

“Yes.”

You didn’t think twice.

You closed your eyes and leaned forward, lips on his, your satisfied sigh tickling his skin, kissing him hard, the intimacy you desired for so long, moments you spent all year trying to keep it at bay, no one to show your affection but tiny kisses on Shooky’s furry head, but now one of your hands was cupping Yoongi’s cheek, deepening the kiss, him pressing back against you, sandwiching you between the wall and himself. You let go of his hand between your legs and held both his cheeks, peppering light pecks against that lovely mouth. You wanted to kiss him over and over, so nice, so lovely, his barely-there gasps drifting on your lips with every kiss.

His fingers slipped out and touched your thigh.

You drew back, heart thudding, still holding his face, his round cheeks a little squished in your hands.

He raised his hand and put his pussy-soaked fingers in his mouth.

You jerked your hands back. “Y-Yoongi!” you exclaimed, shocked.

His pink tongue slipped around his fingers, tiny kitten licks to slurp it all up. He hummed, small smirk playing on his lips. You gawked at him.

“Y-You don’t have to–”

“You like it, don’t you?”

You shut your mouth, cheeks burning with heat.

Yoongi smirked wider, nimble tongue slipping around and around, your eyes glued to the movement, brain already dreaming up lecherous scenarios. His dark brown eyes flickered to you, eyebrows rising.

“Hmm…”

“W-What?” you snapped, trying to collect yourself. He was giving you that look again. That enigmatic expression of maybe-maybe-not. Yoongi shrugged, taking his fingers out of his mouth.

“I think we should do that again sometime.”

Your mind went blank.

Again? Now? Later?

Next Tuesday?

WHEN, MIN YOONGI, WHEN?

“… Urk?”

Those cunning dark brown orbs sparkled with mischief. “Hmm, then again, maybe we’ll do something different next time,” he pondered out loud, taunting you with the suggestive depth of his voice. He backed up, tail swaying from side to side, his grin widening, turning into an open-mouthed smirk that showed off his pretty teeth and devious expression.

His next words were the verbal equivalent of pushing your full glass of brainpower right off the table and sending it crashing to the floor.

“I have a lot of things I want to try.”

part v

masterpost

#yoongi x reader #jungkook x reader #bts smut #bts fanfic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #jungkook smut #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

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smol-and-grumpy · 5 years ago

Text

Something Just Like This - CH06

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester, mobster boss. He’s a little cocky, a lot ruthless and more often than not, short tempered. But he’s also, Dean Winchester, a war veteran and hero who suffers under a shit ton of PTS. He met her in a bar and thinks it’s fate that brought her to him. Little does he know why she’s really here.

Warnings: There is still none, what the fuck is wrong with me?! Well, maybe mention of sex trafficking, abuse of minors

WC: 3717

A/N: There are some discussions about a scandal on a classified ad website that really happened. Thank god that page has been taken down but these things will continue to happen and they dominate the lifes of minors who are captured and exploited by these people every day.

SERIES MASTERLIST

It’s a sunny day and there are lots of dog walkers in the park. Y/N was never really a dog person but Linda is, so maybe that’s why they always meet here at the dog park. Plus, it’s always crowded and they are able to go incognito.

Y/N schleps her bags to the closest unoccupied bench she can find and sits down.

Thinking about it, maybe she shouldn’t have bought this much. She only wanted to go in for one bra but then another one jumps in her face and it’s so cute with the lace and all, and it was the same color as her dress and of course then she needed matching panties and then, of fucking course, she needed them in different colors too.

She doesn’t really know why she bought so many. Why she thinks that someone will ever see her in them. It’s not like she has a boyfriend, nor does she have a boy she wants to show them off to, for that matter. She’s no prude by any means and has lost her v-card a long time ago, but work has always been more important than going on dates. Not that she hasn't tried the dating thing, it’s just— every time she met with someone, she couldn’t help but run a background check on him, which she is technically not allowed to, but she’s better safe than sorry. And even if their record is clean, they bored her to death, and when she mentions that she’s with the FBI, they usually backed off on their own anyway.

Once Y/N settles, she pulls out a book from her bag and starts to read. Of course she can’t concentrate on reading. Can’t really think about anything else but how cute Dean looked when he was mortified that he might have said something weird. She also can’t stop thinking about how big and firm Dean is. How the dress shirt stretches tightly over his chest, the buttons praying for mercy. Can’t stop thinking about his perky little nipples that poked at the shirt and screamed to be freed. And his arms. Ugh. It always looks like the shirts cling onto his biceps for dear life. Not to mention the veins in his forearms when he had his dress shirt folded back. She noticed that night that Dean Winchester’s arms and hands were, in fact, freckled.

No, she shakes her head. She has no business thinking about him that way. But also, he has no fucking business looking that good, so there’s that.

She hardly notices someone sitting down next to her until the person speaks up.

“You went shopping?”

It’s a familiar voice.

Y/N doesn’t turn her head, instead looks at the person through the corner of her eyes. The woman next to her pulls out her phone and puts it to her ear.

Y/N continues to pretend to read. “Yeah, got an opening to attend, remember? You got what I sent you last night?”

“We looked through it. It’s quite a finding.”

“Really?” Because Y/N couldn’t make anything from the scribbles, “Good.”

“There’s something about Lucifer in the notes. That’s just his nickname, which is fitting because he is indeed the devil. He’s Winchester’s rival. Used to be his right hand but split with them. Now he’s up against them while simultaneously building up a reputation in human trafficking.”

“Oh,”

Human trafficking , she remembers the time in training where they taught her about that. Knows that it’s a multi-million dollar operation behind it, knows that it’s dangerous as hell.

“Be careful, alright?”

“I will.”

“You wanna quit?”

“Why?”

“Because it’s getting risky. You just have to tell me and I’ll pull you out.”

“I know,” Y/N says.

She knows that she can pull out anytime. It’s just—

—the more she gets to know Dean, the less she wants to quit. Which is unlike her at all.

Y/N feels some kind of need in her. A need to know more about him. Wants to know how he ticks, wants to know why he’s always so reserved. She thinks there’s another layer of Dean Winchester. A layer you can’t see with your eyes, a layer you have to see with your heart.

She thinks that there’s more to him than the mob boss and she feels weird to want to stay to see what’s beneath the hard shell. “So you’re telling me that Dean isn’t such a bad guy after all. That there’s someone out there who’s worse. Shouldn’t I try to get this Lucifer guy then?”

“No, Winchester’s bad, okay? I agree that Lucifer is worse but I can’t get you close to Lucifer. That guy is not only bad, that one is dangerous. I’d be risking your life and that’s the last thing I want to do.”

“Human trafficking, huh?” Y/N still looks down at her book and turns a page, just in case. “What kind?”

Linda nods subtly, “He started with organs but he wandered into sex-trafficking. Mostly young girls.”

“Wow.”

“Girls from normal families, runaways, sometimes he gets them off the street, promising them shelter and care—”

“—But instead they get abused and drugged.” Y/N finishes the sentence.

“Yes,” Linda nods.

“Isn’t there a special unit for that?” Y/N remembers her dad used to tell her about the Village Voice scandal.

“There is, and there’s another team on Lucifer but we’re working close with them.”

“So, what is that about, some sort of backpage kinda thing? I thought we put that to rest?”

“Oh honey, for every page we close, there are two or three more showing up, and that’s only the pages we know of.” Linda’s voice is small.

Y/N remembers her dad being engrossed in his work while the backpage story blew up. A place where underage girls were trafficked. Heavily. Up to 20 clients a day. Every time she went back from college to see him in the years where backpage won case by case and continued to exploit girls on their page, he’d make sure to hold her just a little bit tighter.

“Right.” Y/N sighs, doesn’t want to think about all the bad things in the world because it would only rile her up more, “I need to keep going if I want to be on time for my shift.”

“I love you.” Linda says without looking at her.

“Love you too,” Y/N replies, stands up and grabs her bags to leave.

Dean didn’t show up that night but when her shift ends, Y/N receives a text from an unknown number.

D: Hey sweetheart, where can I pick you up tomorrow? Dean

Her cheeks warm up and ugh, there’s the flutter in her heart. She should not be feeling this.

Y/N: Hey stranger, you were missed tonight.

D: Yeah, sorry, have a lot on my plate. Broken any noses or jaws tonight?

Y/N: No, they behaved.

D: Good. Would have been a shame if I would have to punch them all in the face next time I’m there.

Y/N: I can take care of myself.

D: I know. I also know that I shouldn’t get on your bad side.

She giggles at that.

Y/N: So, tomorrow, picking me up at the bar is okay. I’ll see if I can help Ellen before I have to leave.

D: You are really a good girl, huh?

D: I’m kidding. I’ll see you tomorrow, sweetheart. Have a good night.

Y/N: You too.

She smiles to herself as she puts the phone back into her purse and proceeds to close the bar.

***

THE NEXT DAY

“Alright, Ellen, everything’s in the cooler, you want me to help with anything else before I have to get myself ready?” Y/N calls to the back. Taking a look at the clock, she notices that Dean said he’ll pick her up in two hours time. There’s still plenty of time to do some other chores if Ellen wants her to.

“No, that’s alright. Just gonna hang up this sign,” Ellen comes through the door and pushes past Y/N with a sheet of paper in her hand. She notices some scribbles done with a black marker but can’t quite catch what it says.

“What’s that?”

“Oh, I’m only open for a couple of hours tonight, gonna close earlier than usual.” Ellen shrugs and tapes the paper to the front door.

“Why?”

“I’m alone and I can’t possibly manage all the people. Have you noticed that there are more and more every night? I think it’s because of you, honey. They all drive out here to see you. And besides, Winchester paid me enough that I could actually close the bar for tonight, for the whole weekend even, but I guess some people still want to have a drink or two.”

“Oh,” Y/N could say she’s surprised that Dean paid Ellen, but really, she’s not for one bit. Thinks, it’s ridiculous how he always finds solutions by using money.

“Go and get yourself ready,” Ellen pats her shoulder and disappears into the back office.

She’s sitting at the bar on Dean’s stool when the door opens to a tall guy. One she’s never seen before.

He smiles when he sees her and waits at the door. “I take it, you’re Y/N?”

“Who’s asking?”

“Hi, I’m Castiel. Cas,” He looks around, as if to inspect the bar but makes no further move, “Everyone calls me Cas.”

Castiel walks in and stands in the middle of the bar now, his gaze wanders from her to the back door. From the back door to the jukebox and further to the other side of the bar, “I’m working with Dean and he sent me to pick you up.”

“Oh,” She says and swallows down the disappointment she knows she shouldn’t be feeling. Of course Dean’s busy. He’s a fucking gangster boss who helps his brother opening up a legal law-fucking-firm. It’s a wonder if he’s not busy.

“We should get going. We’re already late as it is,” Cas walks back to the door he came through and waits for her while he holds the door open, “You coming?”

“Sure,” Y/N says, and hops off the stool, bites on her tongue as not to snap at Cas and ask him why Dean couldn’t come. Because let’s be honest here, she shouldn’t care about it as much as she does anyway.

They walk out and Cas is a gentleman, lending her a hand to walk down the front of the bar. He’d parked right in front of it too, so that she doesn’t have to walk through dirt with her nice new shoes.

“That’s Dean’s car, isn’t it?” She asks upon realizing the Impala that Dean usually drives.

“Yeah, he told me that if you should get suspicious, I can always show you his car. Told me you’ve seen it already and let’s be real here, she’s a beauty.”

Right, she definitely should have interrogated Cas. Especially because Lucifer is on the loose and he holds a grudge against Dean, apparently. Only she doesn’t think that she’d be important enough for Lucifer to consider her a person of interest at all, so it never crosses her mind that someone would want to harm her. Not even after what Linda told her yesterday.

Cas goes on after he settles in the car, “Like, he never lets me drive, ever! So who are you really that he even made me drive out here in his Baby to pick you up?”

“I’m his barmaid.” She just shrugs and it makes Cas laugh. Loud and sharp.

Dean nervously flips his wrist and glances at his watch. The party has started and people are starting to pour in. Some of them mingled together in a group, talking in low hushed voices. The background music is soft. Sam had wanted some jazz music, had dismissed Dean’s suggestion that people might prefer classic rock. His firm, his party, so Sammy put his foot down.

There were also powerful people here, judges, doctors, state reps, they’re all legal on the outside, but Dean knows their secrets — as much as they know his. Which kind of works to his disadvantage, really.

He’s standing off to the side, grabbing a bite off the trays the servers are bringing every now and then, shaking hands with people he has never met, letting Sam introduce him as his brother, the war hero. To say that Dean’s bored and feels out of place is an understatement.

Jo’s hanging on his arm like she belongs there and Dean can’t remember when the last time was that she’s been so clingy. She’s talking to Jess who’s hanging onto Sam. Sammy’s beaming from ear to ear and Dean likes that. Finds his own comfort in Sam’s happiness.

Sam’s been with Jess since college and Dean advised him not to spill too soon about who he is, who his family is but of course Sam did the contrary. Boy has some authority issues. To Dean’s surprise though, Jess stayed with Sam and cut all ties to her family. He guesses that it really must be love.

Whatever love is.

He doesn’t know it, can’t really say that he’s been in love himself. Love. It’s only a word, some utopian thing that only happens in movies. Well, or something that happens to other people. People who deserve it. Like Sammy for example.

“Dean!”

He doesn’t have to look in the direction to know who it is. Dean would recognize the voice — or rather the noise — anywhere. Jo’s hand around him grips him tighter, as if she wants to mark her territory. Dean thinks it’s weird but before he can even form a thought in his head, he hears loud clicking of heels walking swiftly towards him.

She struts closer with her mother. Both of them dressed to impress with too much make up on their faces. It makes them look like very expensive hookers. Those kinds where Dean wouldn’t want to get involved with.

“Amara,” Dean greets her and then, he’s being hugged. Amara’s strong perfume penetrates his nostrils, her boobs rub against his chest and he knows that she does it deliberately. Jo lets go off him by the sheer force of the hug.

Dean literally plies himself from her and her arms are still hanging off his shoulders when he greets her mother, “Rowena,” He nods.

“Hello Dean,” Rowena’s smile was bright and white. “How are you, boy?”

Dean knows that Rowena likes him like a son. She was madly in love with his father, he didn't even know if they had something going on, didn’t really want to know, to be honest. But he knows that Rowena would have loved it if he would have married her daughter, which, of course, would only happen over Dean’s dead body.

“Good, thanks.” Dean tries to smile and somehow winding out of the grip Amara still has on him. “Oh, hey, Sammy’s here. It’s Sammy’s night tonight.” He grins and it’s all forced, hoping to avert the attention from him to Sam.

Jo’s gripping his arm again, on his other side hangs Amara, and the two women are sending each other daggers with their eyes as they greet one another. Dean looks around the room, trying to see if someone could get him out of his misery, knows that he could do it himself, and as much as he loves to tell them both to fuck off, he has to play nice because he doesn’t want to upset Sammy on his brother’s big night.

When nobody seems to notice his state of discomfort, Dean decides to make the best out of it, talking to the group of people and making lame jokes. To his amusement the two women laugh the loudest at something that isn’t even remotely funny, making Dean frown in bewilderment.

He looks up again, his eyes scanning the room, maybe someone will take notice of him now. His eyes stall at the front door.

Cas walks in, Y/N on his arm. Their eyes meet immediately, and maybe Dean’s wrong but he sees her looking down right after, as if she tries hard to look at anything else but him.

He can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy hitting square in his chest, right where his fucking heart is, upon seeing her hanging off Cas’ arm.

At that moment, all he sees is her. Sees her hair loose around her face, the pretty dress hugging her beautiful body. What he also sees is the color in her cheeks, and the puff of her lips, wonders how they would feel on his, or around his cock. Feels only a little guilty that when he rubbed himself off in the showers this morning and closed his eyes, all he saw was her.

Dean pulls himself away from Amara and Jo. Shaking off Amara’s arm when he feels her nail claw into him more, hears her say something but he doesn't even listen because he’s literally running towards Cas and Y/N.

“Hey,” He comes to a halt in front of them, and she’s still not looking at him. Dean turns to Cas instead to get them some privacy, “Cas, thanks.”

Cas nods and holds out Dean’s key to his car but doesn’t say a word, sensing the awkward situation that Dean’s in immediately.

“I need a fucking drink,” Cas declares and pushes himself further into the room to find the bar.

“You okay?” Dean asks as Cas has left. It’s a stupid question really, when he could clearly see that she’s not, in fact, o-fucking-kay.

He sees her hugging her arms around herself and when she looks up, he notices something else in her eyes. Something he can’t place. Maybe hurt? Annoyance? He doesn’t know, could never read a women like a fucking book. And he can’t say that he doesn’t hate that she feels this way.

“Yeah, why shouldn’t I be?” She smiles but Dean can see that it’s a little strained.

He rubs one of his hands over her arm and she relaxes noticeably, which he thinks it’s good, isn’t it? Dean takes her hand, pulls her with him, and he’s glad that she let him, “Come on, let me introduce you.”

He got her drinks and it wasn’t long before she warmed up to him again while they talked and laughed with Sam and Jess, having successfully fended off the two other women as Dean stopped paying attention to them.

Dean can see now from the corner of his eyes as he checks her out every now and then (he didn’t dare to stare at her too long though, fears that she might feel uncomfortable), that her smiles are genuine.

Thank fucking god, Dean thinks. Wouldn’t even want to think how awkward the night would be if she would be mad at him for the majority of it.

“Dean Winchester!”

He knows that voice, knows it too well. Dean sighs and rolls his eyes before turning around, earning a giggle from her which actually makes him feel better too.

“Crowley,” He nods.

Crowley grins. “Nice party,”

“Yeah, I agree,” Dean answers sharp.

“And who is this lovely young lady?” Crowley looks at Y/N and the dude takes her hand, kisses it while Y/N clearly looks stunned.

Dean balls his hands into fists, bites the inside of his cheeks to calm himself down.

“Y/N, this is Crowley—” He says at last.

“The mayor.” She finishes Dean’s sentence.

Of course, Dean thinks. He tends to forget that Crowley is not the sneaky leprechaun but instead the mayor of the city.

“Darling, mind if I borrow this giant for a moment?” Crowley asks Y/N and Dean hopes that she says no, even though he knows that he needs to talk to Crowley but tonight he’d rather let business be business and enjoy the time he has with her. Who is he kidding though, of course she’d say yes because she’s a good fucking girl.

“Go ahead,” She smiles and nods.

Dean didn’t see Y/N for the rest of the night. Amara’s back on hanging to his every step and every which way Dean turns, there’s always someone who wants something from him, even if it was Sam’s fucking night.

He doesn’t complain though, playing his part — because he owns Sammy that much. He talks to people while Amara’s hanging on his arm, laughing at stupid jokes that people tell him and telling his own lame ones over and over. It’s fucking draining and he promised Sam that he won’t drink a drop, he regrets the promise right about now.

Finally, by the end of the night, the guests start to leave one by one, and Dean looks around because he still couldn’t find her so he walks over to where Sam and Jess are saying their goodbyes to their guests.

“Dean, you alright?” Sam asks and Dean knows that Sam can probably see in Dean’s face that he’s distressed.

“Yeah, no,” Dean doesn’t even have it in his heart anymore to keep up the facade and lie to Sam, “Have you guys seen Y/N?”

“I saw her talking to Amara but it was almost two hours ago,” Jess says and as if on cue, Amara walks past them, grabbing at Dean’s arm again but Dean shakes her off.

“Amara, have you seen Y/N?” Dean almost shouts and it might have been louder than he wanted it to be but yeah, he’s a little worried — if not a lot.

“I spoke to her and then she said she wanted to go outside to get some fresh air.” Amara’s tone of voice has something in it that rubs him the wrong way.

Dean pulls his phone from his pocket, thumbs over his contacts and dials Y/N’s number. It doesn’t even ring. It went straight to voicemail. He tries it again. And then again.

“Right, Sammy, I gotta go,” Dean doesn’t even wait for Sammy to answer, instead he runs outside, and when he doesn’t see her, he runs to his car.

CH07

#something just like this #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x you #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #mobster!dean #nathalie writes

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themissingmarvel · 5 years ago

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Kind Regards, Detective [Part 3]

(I am /so sorry/ it got this long. I lost track of it. I had enough for two chapters if I added a bit more but I figured one giant one wouldn’t be bad. I just got too into it. I’ll set an alarm next time for ‘hamburger’ and follow time management skills of the protagonist. And for the record... this is the story of Y/N, not Detective Loki. Which I like. Sure, they’re paired up but... it’a a story. And maybe something more happens. Guess you have to read.)

Catch up: [[Part 1]]// [[Part 2]]// [[drabble]]

Pairing: Detective Loki x fbi!Reader

Word Count: 4.1k {{I AM SO SORRY}}

Warnings: Language, description of violence {{assume that’s a given}}

Sleep wasn’t something that had ever come easy to Y/N. No, she had spent her time in undergrad preparing for graduate school, graduate school preparing for her application to the FBI. Time training at the FBI training to become a profiling agent. Once, when awake at 2 in the morning, sitting on the couch, her ex-boyfriend had asked her to come to bed. She had spoken without even looking up, “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

She wasn’t kidding.

They broke up shortly after.

It was arguably harder to sleep now because her brain was always processing information. It was hard to make sense of something so seemingly senseless. And now she had a pile of information that didn’t even add up. More frustrating was having to wait for the lab reports to come back and for forensics to identify everything and tag it. She supposed evidence would come to light in the morning.

Her room in the Holiday Inn was hardly spectacular, to say the least, but it was fine. It had a queen sized bed, a large desk for her to sprawl her things out on, and a place to put her suitcase with the exact amount of clothing she’d need, plus an extra set just in case. Once upon a time she had been the person to travel with seven bags and joke “you never know!” but those days had passed. She had learned that carrying essentials, and sometimes even less, was the way you lived. It made her yearn for that oversized blue hoodie she had stolen from some ex-boyfriend (maybe that asshole who told her to come to bed) that was sentimental only because she wanted it to be. And that thing was durable as hell.

She had slept like a rock that night, for the first time in ages, which was unsettling when she finally did wake up. It didn’t mean her brain hadn’t processed the information, though. Her process meant that when she did wake up, after her shower and getting dressed in clothes too casual for an FBI agent, that she’d come up with new thoughts. New concerns. New ideas.

By the time Y/N rolled into the precinct, it was still only 7:30am. She had a cup of coffee in her hands that she’d scored from the sad and emotionally draining continental breakfast offered by the hospitable Holiday Inn. But food was food and all she’d really wanted was that bagel and a hard boiled egg. Now she had consumed at least two cups with the third in a travel tumbler she brought with her. Her office one, the black one that said nothing but had a small crack at the top was nestled safely in her cabinet at home. That small apartment with a weird amount of locks on it and a keypad she had. Just in case.

Placing her bag on the small table, she glanced to the side and saw Detective Loki at his desk, hunched over and looking at files. He had a powder blue shirt on this time, and looked cleaned up, meaning he’d at least been home, but she suspected he’d had significantly less sleep than her. Which made sense.

The note left at the front of the church had indeed been for him.

My deepest regards and thoughts for you on this anniversary.

It had seemed to rattle the man initially, his eyes blinking almost non-stop. Twenty seconds and he composed himself. Twenty seconds and Y/N knew not to ask and she knew not to pry. His file had so much in it, but now was not the time. If it had been relevant to the case beyond wanting an emotional connection to David, he would have said so.

Laying out some files and opening her laptop, she stood as it booted up, walking over to Detective Loki and knocking softly on the table, “Morning, Detective,” she smiled cautiously, unsure of how to greet the man. He was still wary and they were still both digesting all of yesterday.

He looked up, hardly shaken, looking tired but nothing dramatic. He sat up and nodded, glancing at his computer to get a sense of the time. Raising an eyebrow, he turned back, “You’re here early.”

She grinned, “One to talk. Did you sleep much?” Normally she might have said it was small talk, though in this instance she found she truly cared. Shared trauma did that. Or maybe it was something else.

A soft, quick laugh left his lips and he stood, mostly to stretch himself out, “I slept. Any is better than none, right? Maybe I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” he grinned at his own dark humor, gathering his things and walking towards the conference room, the young woman following behind, chalking it up to coincidence. Everyone said that.

He glanced at the papers on the table and her laptop loaded, “Any emails come through yet on the case?” Obviously the answer was no, because normal people rested at night and the lab worked on normal hours, but he liked to think that every once in a while, people stayed late and did their jobs the way he did.

Taking a breath she sat on the uncomfortable plastic chair, signing in to the database remotely, “Nothing as of this morning. The lab spent the evening processing the materials, though. One benefit of Feds, right? We have people who work around the clock,” she smirked at him, David almost surprised that perhaps she had read his mind, too. Though in reality she was used to this. Small towns or even cities often backlogged, suddenly given resources they weren’t used to.

A small ‘ding’ went off from inside the bag, Y/N quick to fish around inside for it, “Do you just… not carry your things on you?” Detective Loki didn’t mean to sound condescending, though his tone certainly spoke that way. More than anything he was concerned. Why she didn’t have her weapon holstered on her person or even her phone in her pocket said there was a level of disconnect. And there was. She liked to process in her head and her phone took her away from that.

Ignoring the snide remark, she glanced at the text that had popped up, “Check your email, ladybug. Fast tracked some of that forensic work for you.”

Ding.

“No offense but does that precinct always work so slow? We never got the cell phones in with the belongings and even you have a cell phone.”

Glancing over at David who had taken a seat not so far away, she furrowed her brow with concern, “Forensics bagged up all the personal affects of the individuals at the scene, right? Like, all of it?”

David frowned, “I sure as fuck hope so. Is something missing?”

She began desperately clicking through the laptop, accessing the items retrieved from the scene, David standing, concerned and terrified, still seeing that note in his brain, reminding him of what he had tried so hard to forget. Placing a hand on the back of her chair and leaning in, perhaps inches from her face, able to smell the coffee on his breath and his face wash, whatever he used to keep himself so clean shaven. She could hear him breathing. It was eerily calm despite his clearly rattled demeanor. And him being so close? Hard to focus.

Squinting she scrolled through each individual’s information, frowning as she compared, “Shit. Shit!”

David was looking at the same documents, and he was realizing the same thing that she was. He supposed it might not have been so obvious so immediately, but he also wasn’t a profiler. This wasn’t what he did the way she did it.

Grabbing her phone she typed desperately into it, sending the message off to her coworker, Adrian, the one she’d had a crush on and had flirted with terribly. The one who had told her he was interested, but maybe not right now. The one who sent her flirty texts still and she knew he just liked the attention, but sometimes you couldn’t help who you liked. Even if that person was a total asshole.

Ding!

Damn he was fast.

“Who the hell doesn’t have backups on the cloud? So far these people are coming up empty, ladybug.”

Sometimes you fell for the asshole and sometimes the asshole fell for you.

Detective Loki had seen that text. It had made him tighten, for whatever reason. Maybe it was the information given or maybe that little nickname at the end. He didn’t know squat about this woman and so far he was finding that it wasn’t making him dislike her. He wanted so badly to have slept on it and realized she really wasn’t his type. But here she was, focused and on task, already making headway with evidence. She wore an attire so different than his own and she didn’t look like a Federal Agent the way he always had seen them. She didn’t wear that stupid-ass jacket they all had, or that dumb fucking cap. She looked like she belonged in a coffee shop somewhere reading a book and staying quiet. But it bothered the hell out of him that she didn’t keep her weapon holstered or her badge on her.

“None of them had their cell phones. And we didn’t find them at the abduction sites. We assumed they were dumped for safety reasons, but from what Adrian is telling me, they didn’t even have backup information. We literally have no digital information on them,” she frowned, turning to look at David.

He paused for a moment, so close to her, able to smell the shampoo she had used, the lightly floral fragrance, the look of concern in her eyes. He could see everything.

Stepping back suddenly he rubbed his hands over his face, “All right. So let’s look at this. Phones get dumped for a ton of reasons, right? And maybe they just… all didn’t back up their phones.”

Y/N shook her head and frowned, as she typed back a response before tucking the phone away, “The GPS and locators on the phones were all deactivated, or else the lab would have coordinates for the phones. And why does someone not back up their phone?” She looked at him, already with the answer, though she needed him to say it. She needed him to understand what she was getting at.

“Everyone leaves some digital footprint. Can we find them online? Social media, maybe?” In that moment Y/N almost felt like giving him her signature ‘are you fucking with me?’ looks, though kept her poker face. He was a man living in a small town who had done small cases, for the most part. He didn’t know the ins and outs the way she did. He hadn’t been trained as she had.

So instead she looked at her computer, “I can do some searching myself, but for the real stuff… for what we’re really looking for… we need someone with experience.”

For a moment she thought briefly of her own team. Of course there was a group she worked with, but ultimately there was no ‘Penelope Garcia’ on her team, or a quirky tech nerd. There were expert analysts who could pull data and indeed find footprints. Honestly they were probably already doing that. But she had that feeling again… that gut wrenching pain.

Staring at the monitor for longer than felt comfortable, she sighed heavily, “I don’t like this, Detective. It’s wrong. I feel like we’re watching the lights flicker before the power goes out. I don’t even think this is the worst of it.”

Admittedly, she had been wrong in the beginning. But being wrong meant she was learning more about this person, and she didn’t like that. She never liked being in the head of a criminal, but of a sociopath… that was scary. Sleep wouldn’t be coming again any time soon, that much she knew.

As if overtaken, Y/N lept from her chair, almost knocking the damn plastic piece of garbage over as she stood and began practically tearing through the files. David looked at her, both confused and angry, though unsure why he was angry, “What are you doing?”

Her eyes were wide, though, and she was focused. In that moment it was all she could think about, all she could see, all she could-

“Here! It’s here!” She pulled out a statement by one of the victim’s spouses. Louise Frank, 43, nurse at the local hospital in Noxen. Putting the paper down she pointed, Loki now shoulder-to-shoulder with her, eyes locked as she pointed out the sentence, “Her husband stated he was having trouble getting in touch with her, which makes sense, but said he thought it was just something to do with her new phone. Detective, what if her husband still has the other phone? He said the screen was shattered but if we can get it, we can check the old phone.”

Adrenaline was pumping through her body, wanting in that moment to wrap her arms around his neck as she realized the opportunity they had. But instead she kept those Y/E/C eyes wide and excited, excited in a way she didn’t like to admit but in a way that David knew meant they had something to go off of.

“Let me get my keys, we’re driving to Noxen,” he looked stoic, though his breathing had increased, his own adrenaline pumping as he adjusted the collar of his shirt.

Looking at him with confusion she shook her head, “That’s two-hour drive, Detective. Shouldn’t we call them first?”

He was opening the door and headed to his desk as he spoke, “David. And I couldn’t give a fuck how long that drive is, we need that phone.”

___

David.

They had gotten into his car in a bit of a hurry, though Y/N was quite proud of remembering to bring her phone and her badge, both tucked into her jacket. Well, her badge was. Her phone was in hand as she called Noxen Police and had them email her the name and address of the husband. She had gone so far as to call the husband as well, warning him they were coming, and politely, kindly, sweetly, asked if he knew where the phone was.

He did. He had it.

Hanging up, she tucked the phone away, “Mr. Frank said he’ll have it out for us.” David barely nodded, instead gripping the steering wheel tightly, knuckles almost white as he kept himself from going seventy in a fifty. This was a lead, he knew. It was a lead they’d be able to solidly point at and hold up in the air and shout, “here!”

And he was not about to jeopardize that by having some idiot mail it over or some rookie cop drive it and drop it again. Or lose it entirely. He didn’t trust anyone except for the two people in the car.

“I dated a guy once with knuckle tattoos,” she spoke calmly, looking out the window at the barren trees and quiet grey day.

Loki was shaken from his trance and looked over, his face washed with confusion, “What?”

Y/N turned to face him, “I dated a guy once with knuckle tattoos. Like you,” she gestured to his hands, partially to let him know she noticed how tightly he was gripping the wheel.

He let go slightly.

Raising an eyebrow he turned back to the road, his posture relaxing, “Oh,” he said flatly.

She kept her face stoic, “Don’t you want to know what it said?”

David glanced back again, confused though now oddly engaged, “What did it say?”

She got quiet, “It said ‘gullible’ on one hand.”

His face contorted for a second as he considered this, “That doesn’t- goddamnit,” he felt himself smiling as he looked over, watching the woman in the passenger seat smiling as well, her form relaxed as she chuckled. David did too.

“How often do people give you shit about your tattoos?” She kept her smile but softened her tone, deciding she didn’t like the idea that the rest of the car ride would be silent. She wanted to know David more than just as a man in a file. She wanted to understand what went on in his head.

Taking a breath, he considered the question. His internal monologue was often just that, internal, but he found himself being asked questions that people didn’t often ask him. A joke that no one else would have ever made seeing him angry. This wasn’t just a woman, but chaos in a bottle, perhaps, “When I was in the academy, lots of people gave me shit. I was a bit older than some guys in there and I still had my temper,”

She grinned, “Oh, this is you calm?”

The corner of his lips curled up slightly, just slightly, “Anyway, I got into a couple fights. Off grounds, of course. But I talked to one of the sergeants in the academy and he sort of set me straight. Told me there would always be something and that if I wanted to be any kind of officer, any kind of detective, I needed to let those things go. So yeah, people ask, but I don’t get into it.”

Nodding, she folded her hands in her lap, leaning back, “Back when I was in college, freshman year, of course, I was determined to get a tattoo. I mean, straight up determined. I thought, ‘Hell yes, you’re an adult, get that fairy tattoo on your ribcage!’” She looked over at David who was already smirking, “Hey, shut it.” He held a hand up, staring ahead at the empty highway as they drove.

“But ultimately I didn’t. It changed. It was a butterfly on my ankle, then for a brief moment a rose on my wrist. By the time I decided I wanted to be in psych, and work with the FBI, I had talked myself out of a tattoo entirely. It’s funny, because people always say they regret the tattoos they got, but honestly? I regret the tattoos I didn’t get.” Her eyes turned back to the trees as they drove, remembering those rushes of adrenaline as she took out a few hundred in cash and stood outside some shop near her school. Always a different one. Always the same amount of money in hand. Always certain. Then always with a reason not to.

It had never occurred to David that someone might regret not getting a tattoo. Some of his he had gotten in some guy’s basement when he was fifteen. Some when he turned eighteen and nineteen. Some even when he was twenty-four. His neck and hands were his younger years. And for a moment he tried to picture a young Y/N with her shirt hiked up getting a tattoo on her ribs that she wouldn’t possibly imagine how painful it was. Or maybe she did. There was much about her he didn’t know.

Her phone dinged again, breaking the silence, pulling it out to read another text from Adrian, “Ladybug, you’re teasing me with all this exciting information. Update me on the case. Place isn’t the same without you here.”

Asshole.

Sighing, she frowned, eyeing the message, “Ladybug?” David had caught a glimpse of the message, and while he had tried not to pry he was somewhat curious. Was it a significant other? A friend? Something else?

Shutting the screen off, the young woman tucked her phone away again, “Coworker. Not a profiler but he’s a field agent with serials back in DC, where I’m out of. It’s a long standing joke, mostly born of me forgetting the word ‘bee’ and instead screaming ‘ladybug’ because clearly those two things look and sound the same,” she rolled her eyes at herself. It had been such a bad first week, so much so she’d stressed herself out that when a bee came near her, allergic of course, she had screamed instead ‘ladybug’, the first insect name she could think of.

David only nodded his head, and Y/N considered her own fondness for Adrian. She wished she didn’t like him. She wished she could listen when her own friends told her he was just using her for attention. But she knew that already. Didn’t matter. Not really. Emotions were always fickle that way, driving you to do stupid shit. It was why she was so good at her job, in that she understood what drove people, even when it didn’t make any logical sense.

The drive after was fairly quiet, though interjected with sparse conversation. Meaningful, but quick. Tidbits shared. Pieces. Shards. Bits of each other’s puzzle that they would later try and piece together to make sense, even though it never would. But she found out he had spent ten years in the boy’s home, sprinkled with some juvie time for petty crimes he rolled his eyes at himself for. And Y/N had let out her own experience coming face-to-face with one of the serials she’d caught. He didn’t know who she was. She knew who he was. Just by that look. The vacant look but one that was burning. An empty building on fire. Nothing inside. Nothing but the fire to drive him. It had terrified her. She still woke occasionally to those eyes, staring through her, passing her by on the street like dodging a bullet.

Getting the phone once they arrived in Noxen had been quick. The husband wanted less than nothing to do with the police and it was clear he had already spent time crying. David knew the look. Y/N did too. Grief stricken and angry. Nowhere to put it.

Giving the phone to David (who insisted he be the one to hold it) she sighed, shaking her head, “We have to plug it into my laptop at the precinct and use encryption. Whoever did this, all of this, is smarter than we’re giving him credit for. If he knows we have the phone, he’ll be all over this. We need to consider who this man is.”

A shiver ran up Detective Loki’s spine, looking at Y/N as they got into the car, “You’re saying this is a guy?”

She frowned, chewing at her bottom lip, “I didn’t want to think it was. I don’t think he was trying to trick us with the formal writing and the flowers. I think that’s just how his brain is wired. But I need to know, then, why he’s targeted you and the other detectives. And now… now you, David. He wants something from you.” Her eyes were filled with concern as she stared at him in the car, still turned off, cold.

He turned the car on without a word, beginning the drive back to Conyers. He was angry now. Not just at the situation, but at all of it. He had wanted to be grateful for the phone, for having someone like Y/N on the case who could figure this out, but he was angry at how he felt. He didn’t like being a target this way. He didn’t like that someone knew him. Knew the anniversary of the day his horrid mother dropped him off at the home and ran off. He didn’t like that this was so damn personal.

Dover and Birch was hard, but it was easy. He was fueled by the parents' focus. He was driven by the need to save a child. Children. He had wanted to do something good after so much time hiding in a town like Conyers. And now someone had hand-picked him, of all detectives in the world, for this.

Y/N wanted to tell Detective Loki she knew he was better than that. Than some psychopath who would stage a mass murder. She wanted to urge him to be cautious, though understood someone was poking the bear in a big way. Someone wanted him upset. On guard. Determined and angry. Someone wanted him emotionally involved. It wasn’t because they were getting back at him, though. She knew it was something else. But that was the big question.

((Tagging: @is-it-madness @escapingthoughtsandsecrets @encounterthepast @detecellie @breakawayfromeveryday ask to be added/taken off))

#detective loki #detective loki x reader #detective loki x you #detective loki x y/n #detective loki reader insert #detective loki imagine #imagine detective loki #prisoners imagine #imagine prisoners #prisoners #prisoners 2013 #prisoners movie #prisoners reader insider #jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal x reader #jake gyllenhaal imagine #imagine jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal x you #reader insert

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queen-of-deans-booty · 5 years ago

Text

Fallen Idols: Part Two

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2,129

Warnings: typical supernatural violence, language, angst, blood, you know the usual

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated. I really want to hear what you guys think about this one!

Feedback is the glue that holds my writing together.

Tags at the bottom

“Did you just give him all that research to do so he wouldn’t be out in the world?” you asked Dean as you finished your glass of beer from the bar you two were at.

“He needs it.”

“Dean, do you fully trust him? If not, you have to tell him. I may not have been serious about braiding Sam’s hair and mud masks, but I was serious about talking about our feelings. It doesn’t have to be a girl sesh, but it is healing to do so.”

“That’s more your thing than mine,” he shrugged.

“You know, I’m kind of scared about Amara and what Zachariah showed us,” you sighed.

“Me too,” he whispered, but you heard him.

“I just don’t want to end up that way. I saw the look in my own eyes, and I didn’t recognize me. It was all her, and that scares the shit out of me.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were having dreams about her?”

“I guess I didn’t want you to worry. She talks to me wherever she is, and she says that I need to trust her because she needs me and I am going to need her. She tells me that she isn’t bad, but what I saw… that wasn’t good. It’s the complete opposite of everything she’s telling me that she is.”

“We’ll deal with her when it comes down to it. Who knows, that could be years in the future.” Before you had a chance to come up with a reply, Dean’s phone rang. He answered it with a curt, “Hello” before putting whoever it was on speakerphone.

“Took me a while, but I traced all the car's previous owners,” Sam said on the other line.

“Any of 'em die bloody?” you wondered.

“Nope. In fact—” someone nearby breaks a triangle of pool balls which was loud enough for Sam to hear it. “Are you two in a bar?”

“No, I—I'm—we’re in a restaurant,” Dean stuttered, and you put your hand over your mouth to silence your giggle.

“Here’s your beer,” the bartender said when she brought out Dean’s refill.

“That happens to have a bar,” the older brother said to the younger one.

“I've been working my ass off here.”

“Hey, world's smallest violin, pal, I spent the afternoon up Christine's skirt. I needed a drink,” Dean sighed.

“Actually, you didn't.”

“What does that mean?” you asked.

“The car's first owner was a cardiologist in Philadelphia; drove it 'til he died in nineteen-seventy-two. That Porsche is not, nor has it ever been, James Dean's car. It's a fake Little Bastard.”

“Then what killed the guy?”

“Good question,” Sam sighed.

“I want you to use a, a fine-tooth comb. The evidence is here, we just gotta find it,” Rick instructed one of the crime scent unit gentlemen who just nodded and left to do his job.

There had been another murder taken place at someone’s home. GSW to the head, but no bullet, gunpowder, or gun so it was definitely up your alley.

“Heard you got another weird one,” you commented to the Sheriff as he pushed past you to exit the room.

“Uh, well, it's a little strange on the surface, I admit, but, uh... you know, once you—you look at the facts…”

“William Hill died from a gunshot wound to the head. No gun, no gunpowder, no bullet,” you pointed it out to the nervous man.

“Nope. Nothing strange about that,” Dean shrugged.

“Well there's gotta be a reasonable explanation. There always is.”

“Well what's your reasonable explanation?”

“Professional killer,” the Sheriff whispered cautiously. “CIA, NSA, one of them trained assassins, like in Michael Clayton. You're welcome to look around, but—but these guys don't leave fingerprints.”

“Mind if we talk with the witness?” you asked.

“Be my guest. She's not making any sense! And she's not making any sense in Spanish either.”

“Right,” Dean nodded slowly before you took the lead and led the brothers outside where a police officer was talking to the housekeeper for William.

Pulling out your badge, you flashed it to the officer who just nodded and left the woman alone.

“Consuela Alvarez?” you asked.

“Yes?”

“FBI. Now, uh, you said you saw something in the professor's house. Right? Something in the window?” you asked as you took the officer’s place on the bench next to the woman.

“Estaba sacando la basura. Imiré por la ventana y vi al hombre que mató al Señor Hill!” she exclaimed.

Looking at Sam, you knew he used to take Freshman Spanish, so he was the only one who could talk to her right now since you and Dean didn’t know a lick of English. Getting up, you let Sam take your spot so he could talk to her.

“Uh, Señora Alvarez. Cálmese, por favor. Uh—Uh, díganos lo que vio?” Sam asked as he tried to remember what he learned.

He asked her to tell him what she saw and to calm down since she was a fucking mess.

“Era alto. Muy alto. Y llevaba el abrigo negro largo y tenía bigotes,” she sighed.

“Okay, uh, a tall man, very tall. With a long black coat and a beard,” Sam translated.

“Y un sombrero,” Consuela added.

“Dude was wearing a sombrero?” Dean asked.

“Uh, a hat, not a—a—”

“No, no, no, un sombrero alto,” the woman corrected.

“A tall hat?”

“Oh, like a top hat!”

“Un sombrero alto. Muy alto!” she gasped as she demonstrated just how tall this hat was.

“What, you mean like a stovepipe hat?” you asked. “Like Abraham Lincoln.”

“Sí,” the woman sobbed. “El Presidente Lincoln. Abraham Lincoln kill Mister Hill!”

“Excuse me?” you asked, not believing your ears.

“S-so I go home now?” she asked.

“Uh, sí. Gracias,” Sam smiled as the woman left.

“Abraham Lincoln? The 16th president? The dead president?” you gawked.

“Looks like it,” Sam sighed.

Back at the motel room, research needed to be done because clearly, something was going on here that was worse than you originally thought. Sam did some research on the newest victim, William, while you and Dean went over the video that Jim recorded of Cal’s death to see if there was something that happened to be missed. Dean played the video frame by frame until you spotted something red in the reflection of the car.

“Wait, go back,” you instructed.

“You find something?” Sam asked.

Dean went back a few frames until the figure in red was locked onto the screen. Dean picked up the laptop before turning it around and showing his brother what was discovered.

“It's a freeze-frame from Jim Grossman's video. Are we crazy, or does that look like James Dean?”

“That looks like James Dean,” Sam confirmed.

Dean placed the laptop back in front of him with a sigh.

“So, we got Abraham Lincoln, and James Dean?” you asked. “Famous ghosts?”

“Maybe.”

“Well that's just silly.”

“No, actually, there is a ton of lore on famous ghosts. More than the, you know, not-famous kinds. I'm actually surprised we haven't run into one before.”

“Yeah, but now we got two of 'em? Two extremely pissed-off ghosts?”

“Who are apparently ganking their fans,” Sam said as he looked at his laptop screen.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“Professor Hill was a Civil War nut. He dug Lincoln.”

“And Cal must've been a James Dean freak. He spent seventeen years of his life tracking down the guy's car,” Dean added.

“So, you're saying we've got two super-famous, super-pissed-off ghosts killing their... super-fans?” you asked in disbelief.

“That's what it looks like.”

“Okay, but what the hell are they doing here?” you wondered. “Ghosts usually haunt the places they live. I mean, I get Abraham Lincoln at the White House and James Dean at a race track, but... what the hell are they doing in Canton?”

“That’s what we need to find out.”

“You. That’s what you need to find out,” Dean said as he got up.

Closing the laptop, you got up before heading to the bathroom. Sam just rolled his eyes before getting to work. He worked hard to try and find the right kind of information while you went to the bathroom and Dean watched from the sink with a soda in hand.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Sam groaned.

“What?” Dean asked as he walked over to Sam to see what was going on. “You gotta be kidding me.”

“What is it?” you asked as you exited the bathroom. Walking over to the brothers, you saw a website for a wax museum not that far from here. “You got to kidding me.”

Walking into the wax museum, you looked at the very many and very life-like figures which were everywhere. Abraham Lincoln was staring at you as you passed him which gave you a chilly shudder of uncertainty. John F. Kennedy and Richard Nixon were also on display as well as some other famous individuals.

“Dude, he's short,” Dean commented. Looking over to where he was, you just chuckled at his comment made towards Gandhi.

“Hey. Gandhi was a great man,” Sam defended him.

“Yeah, for a Smurf,” Dean scoffed just as the director of the museum came rushing down the stairs.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, this is our busiest time of the year,” he chuckled. Looking around the place, there wasn’t a soul left in sight.

“This is busy?” you asked.

“Well, not right now, but it's early.”

“It's four-thirty,” you coughed.

“So, what can I do for you?”

“Uh, well, we are writing a piece for Travel Magazine,” Sam took over.

“Yeah, on how, uh, totally non-sucky wax museums are.”

“That's fantastic. A little press, just what we need.”

“Great. Well we're interested in a few of your exhibits, specifically Abraham Lincoln and, uh, James Dean.”

“Two of our most popular displays.”

“They bring in a lot of visitors?” you wondered.

“Yeah, we have our regulars.”

“I don't suppose that, uh, William Hill and Cal Hawkins were regulars, were they?” Dean asked.

“As a matter of fact, they were. Yeah, I heard what happened to them. It's tragic, just tragic. Oh—you—that's not gonna be in the article, is it?” the owner panicked a little inside.

“No, of course not. You know, I gotta tell you, that Lincoln is so lifelike, I mean, you can just imagine him moving around. You ever see anything like that?” Dean chuckled.

“Uh, no,” the owner frowned.

“Well, um, is there anything you could think of that would make your museum... unusual? You know, for the article?” you inquired.

“Well, I'll say. There isn't another place like us, not anywhere. For one, that's Honest Abe's real hat,” he said as he pointed to the wax figure.

“Almost like his remains,” Dean said to his brother which the owner caught.

“Uh, I guess.”

“You wouldn't happen to have any of James Dean's personal effects, would you?” you asked.

“Ooh, yeah. Got his keychain. We got a bunch of stuff, uh, Gandhi's bifocals, FDR's iron lung. This,” he indicated to his leather jacket with a huge smile.

“Who did that belong to?”

“The Fonz. Seasons two through four!” the owner grinned with a double thumbs-up. “But this is nothing. I've been working on a new collection of figures. Stuff that'll really wow the kids. Computer games, cell phones, sexting; They're just fads. I'm gonna make wax museums hip again.”

“Well, thank you for your time,” you said politely before leaving the awkward man and the creepy-as-hell museum. You’d come back tonight when the coast was clear to get rid of the keychain and the hat.

“Yeah, Abraham Lincoln and James Dean, can you believe that?... Why so kill-crazy? Ah, maybe the apocalypse has got 'em all hot and bothered. Yeah, well, we all know whose fault that is… Well I'm sorry, but it's true,” Dean spoke to your dad over the phone. Looking up from your phone, you saw Sam by the door, and you cleared your throat loudly which caused Dean to spin around quickly. “I'll call you later. Bye.”

“What's going on?” Sam asked.

“Did you get the trunk packed up?”

“Yeah, trunk's packed. Who was on the phone?”

“My dad.”

“And?”

“Nothing,” Dean shook his head.

“So, we're just gonna pretend I didn't hear what I just heard?”

“Pretend or don't pretend. Whatever floats your boat.”

“This was supposed to be a fresh start, Dean,” Sam sighed.

“Well, this is about as fresh as it gets,” Dean said as he picked up his jacket. “Now are we going or not?”

“Sorry, Sam,” you whispered before following Dean out the door. Sam watched with a frown, sighed, but then followed nonetheless.

Wanna get tagged? Add yourself to this document! If your tag doesn’t work, find out why!

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ahiddenpath · 4 years ago

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hey hidden. I hope this question isn't weird but your job is very cool to me, so I was wondering: what exactly did you need for education to get into it, and what's it like for you?

Are- Are you- Are you asking me to nerd out?

THE NERDING WILL COMMENCE BELOW THE CUT!

EDIT: Trigger warning for discussion of cancer treatments/research.

SO I am a molecular biologist. I am currently researching immunotherapies for a biotech company.

One thing I should emphasize is that this stuff takes an enormous team working together for years. I don’t want anyone to think that I’m, like... Personally producing cancer medicines. I’m part of a team of about 400 people, working together with 20 ish years of data produced by our company and the companies we partner with. And my boss tells me what I’m going to work on! I design the experiment, run the experiment, and consider the data from there, but I’m not the “mastermind” for anything. It’s usually the upper level career scientists with pHDs doing that.

Another disclaimer is that, sadly, we as humans aren’t at the “defeat cancer forever” stage. Like, it’s not... near. The best defense continues to be frequent screening so it can be caught and treated early (which is bad news in the states, where people can’t afford the screening because we don’t have universal health care, or they can afford it but don’t go because they have three part time jobs, none of which give benefits- But I digress).

Oh! And one more thing I want to tell all future science dorks, something I was super lucky to learn at age 19: follow the money.

When I was 19, I was culturing and chemically processing algae, then assessing the data. My company at the time wanted to create biodiesel from algae, and my whole world was rocked when they told me: WE ALREADY CAN MAKE VIABLE FUEL FROM ALGAE. The problem is that it costs about $4.50 per gallon, so it can’t compete with normal diesel (at the time, this was like 12 years ago).

So what they wanted was algae that had the correct chemical profile for use in biodiesel, that could also be grown at tropical temperatures. Why? Because the algae was to be grown in sugar cane processing centers, where it’s tropical, and most of the production costs came from cooling the incubators and instruments that would grow the algae. So they needed algae that could make diesel, but also grow in hot weather, which apparently isn’t common.

ALWAYS FOLLOW THE MONEY! It’s often not even about “can we do it,” but “can we do it at x cost, considering conditions hundreds of miles away.” Crazy!

Ah, but you asked how to get into biotech! It’s not that hard, thankfully! I have a BS in biology. I made sure to get good grades and all of that, and if you’re serious about biotech, you want to take classes in things like immunology, virology, any science class that can return to human health and biotech. I will say that, while I’ve always naturally excelled at biology, I had to take more chemistry than bio! Plus, you need math and physics...

But here’s my best advice for biotech-interested young people:

-If you’re looking at universities while in high school, PLEASE check out what AP classes will get you out of undergrad labs. The WORST PART about being a science kid is the labs. For example, every bio and chem class has a lab. The class itself usually consists of three 50 minute lectures (150 min/week), and you get 3 credits. The lab is 170 min per week, and you only get 1 credit. If you don’t place out of some classes with labs attached with AP credit, YOUR ASS WILL BE SITTING IN LABS FOR AT LEAST 340 MINUTES A WEEK! AND YOU ONLY GET 2 CREDITS FOR THAT!!!! It’s utter bullshit.

So, if you’re in high school and really serious about pursuing a science degree, check out which AP scores get you out of labs at your favorite universities, and really commit to getting 5s in those.

I was able to place out of 3 labs this way, and it played an enormous role in maintaining my sanity.

-Everyone in biotech knows EVERYONE in biotech. It’s absolutely astounding. But it’s a small field, centered around a few hot spots, and lots of these people have been at it for 40+ years.

Here are some of the hot spots in America (you might have to live in one of these areas to find biotech jobs, so be sure you’re down for that).

Anyway, like I said, I worked as an undergrad at a biotech. I was so fortunate, because they paid me, I was already doing actual-factual research, and I got to know people. And when I graduated, people went, “Oh you worked for Bob? Let me give him a call.” And then they did. And then Bob said, “Oh yeah, she’s a hard worker, hire her.”

SO you need to make connections ASAP, and strive to show people your hard-working, curious, problem-solving, good-attitude-having self. Sadly, there’s an element of luck there, for sure. But you need to be ready to try to work in professional labs in college, which means juggling your difficult courses and school labs with work. Hooray!

...Did I say this wasn’t hard? I’m full of shit, aren’t I. Looking back, all I can see is how lucky I was, and how I “only” needed a 4 year degree, but... It really takes a lot to get here.

As for what it’s like...

I love it, it’s great, but like any job, it... Well, it’s rough.

Here’s what I think you need to thrive in biotech, assuming you’re not put off by the stuff I’ve already covered:

-Organization, time management, and focus. Honestly, being a lab researcher isn’t about being smart, it’s about juggling a lot of things simultaneously. Lots of folks describe the job as “hurry up and wait,” because you rush to mix the experimental ingredients together so they can incubate for two hours before you do the next step. And while that’s incubating, you do x, which has a few 15 minute incubations. In those 15 minutes, you generate graphs with yesterday’s data, make records for you lab notebook, order items for next week’s experiment, print labels, or... Any number of things. There are ALWAYS tons of balls in the air, so organization and time management are 90% of the job.

And you need to focus, because most of the time it looks like you’re adding a single droplet of water to other droplets of water. Almost everything you work with is a clear liquid, so you can’t go spacing out and forgetting what you’ve already added to the mix.

A typical day is to arrive at work, sit down for a while to plan out how to best use the incubation times to do other things, head into the lab, hope for incubation periods for toilet/water/food breaks, and scramble to get data processing in there somewhere. Deadlines are usually tight, because it’s always a race to patent a medicine before one of the other 5,000 companies trying to do it can. We all work from the shared published scientific knowledge, so there’s no... Developing something in secret.

I’d say my job is challenging, but rewarding, especially as we come closer to generating medicines for what we call “patients with unmet needs.” Remember how I said “follow the money?” Sadly, often, um... Okay I’m gonna do a really quick and loose explanation. People have different versions of the same genes, right? And sometimes, there are “cancer” genes- this is a really sloppy explanation, sorry. So medicines get created for the most common mutated cancer gene first. So say 70% of cancer patients have this mutated gene, 20% have that mutated gene, and 10% have a third mutated gene. Guess who gets medicine made for them first?

If you guessed the largest group, you’re right! The trouble is that big companies will then move on to the largest group for another cancer/gene group, leaving people with more rare genetic issues without treatment options beyond chemo, which many elderly or immunocompromised patients simply can’t tolerate.

My company specifically aims to help these people with no help in sight. On the one hand, follow the money- we are doing it because we will have a market, and we can’t compete with big companies yet. On the other, we are helping people who have no options. I’m so grateful to use my gifts (organization, planning, focus, problem solving, and natural curiosity) to play a small, small role in hopefully helping people. It means something to me.

On the other hand, it can be a grind, no lie. And any high-pressure job will have colleagues who are also under pressure, and might lash out or try to throw other people under the bus when problems arise. A certain level of emotional maturity and strength is required, and frankly, I needed therapy to get there.

Also, if you’re a female-presenting human, some people will give you shit in biotech. Luckily, I’ve only ever had one coworker be blatantly sexist and ask me (multiple times) if I was sure I belonged here. Unfortunately, you’re more likely to see more discrete sexism, like folks asking you to organize parties for pregnant or engaged coworkers because “you seem like you’d be good at it,” ie “you’re female and I am throwing social tasks at you so I can focus on my science, which you also have to do.” I’ve had a lot of coworkers try so hard to corner me into doing emotional work for them. But... Honestly, most of this is just existing as a woman, and isn’t specific to biotech.

So yeah! You’re gonna have to work hard, but if you have an interest in science, great organization skills, and want to play a little role in helping people who are suffering in a way that doesn’t involve direct social interaction with the hurting people... It’s great!

Sorry for the absolute wall of text, I hope this helps! I’m always happy to talk about this, so please ask away if you’d like. Thanks for the ask!

#Anonymous #ask hidden #career stuff #biotech

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quentinxdelancret · 4 years ago

Text

Discord Text Thread || Quentin & Dorian

Discord thread featuring: Quentin and Dorian

When: September 23rd

Mentions: Khai

Description:Quentin texts Dorian after their studio session and they get to know one another a little better. Quentin asks Dorian out on a date.

Trigger Warning: Hardcore flirting.

Quentin. We should hang out again soon. It was a lot of fun

DORIAN Yeah, I agree. I’d love to.

Quentin. Great! Because I would love to know more about you.

DORIAN Well, we could start now if you want.

Quentin. Absolutely!

DORIAN Ask me anything.

Quentin. Anything... let’s see. Do you like fizzle pop?

DORIAN Fizzle pop? Do you mean soda?

Quentin. Haha yeah. Sorry

DORIAN No worries lol. Just wanted to make sure we were talking about the same thing. Not really. I’ll only have soda every now and then. That leads me to my first question for you though. Where are you from?

Quentin. Fair enough. I probably drink it way more than I should. But, it’s really good with ice cream. I’m from Chamonix, France.. But, I moved to California was I was like seven I wanna say. I grew up in San Francisco and you?

DORIAN I’m more of a tea and juice drinker personally. Oh that’s dope! I’m from San Francisco too! I only moved to Kingsboro when I was 18.

Quentin. Oh shit! I can’t believe I’ve never run into you before. I used to spend a lot of time out at MEZZANINE’s and Bimbo’s. But back then I usually needed a fake to get in lmao. I love tea.. we should totally drink tea together sometime

DORIAN Well, I’m gonna guess that I’m older than you so lol. Yeah, we should.

Quentin. How old are you

DORIAN I just turned 29 in August.

Quentin. Ah, hot. I’m only older men. Wow yeah. Hahah what I meant to say was. I’m into them

DORIAN lmao that’s okay. I got the idea. How old are you?

Quentin. I’ll be 25 in December

DORIAN oh yeah, so you were only like 14 when I left Cali lol.

Quentin. hahaha this just keeps getting better. I feel like I totally would have stalked you

DORIAN You were entering high school when I graduated lol.

Quentin. Yeah, I was actually home schooled though. It was easier on my “parents” that way. Did you have a band then?

DORIAN Oh, homeschool? That’s interesting. Nah, I didn’t start my band until after I moved to NY. We started it when I was like 21.

Quentin. Yeah, not as much fun as it sounds though, I promise lol. Oh, sweet! Definitely probably wouldn’t have stalked you then. But, would have loved to.

DORIAN Hahaha. Any more questions?

Quentin. yeah.. I have tons. Am I boring you yet?

DORIAN Not at all.

Quentin. Okay, I’m just gonna shoot out a few here. Have you always been into guys? Are you into me? Do you like Chinese food? Would you like to go out with me?

DORIAN I realized I liked guys when I was 13. Yes, I’m into you. I love Chinese food. Yes I’ll go out with you.

Quentin. I love how straight and to the point you are.

DORIAN I try to be. Because that’s how I prefer people to be with me.

Quentin. Fair enough. took me way to long to type that haha

DORIAN Are your hands busy?

Quentin. At the moment... not really. But you just make me question all my logic.

DORIAN That sounds like a bad thing.

Quentin. Is it? I don’t think so. I can be a bit of a brat sometimes and you just make me rethink my smart ass remarks lol

DORIAN Good. I’m teaching you to be a good boy.

Quentin. Hey hey, don’t go getting carried away now lol

DORIAN It’s true.

Quentin. Listen. I do very bad things and I do them very well. I just so happen to like you.

DORIAN You sound like the guy from Taken. I have a very specific set of skills lmao.

Quentin. hahahahaha it’s true though.

DORIAN Mhm. I’ll believe it when I see it. You probably just want me to think you’re a bad boy.

Quentin. Do I not come off as a bad boy? Wait better question... are you into bad boys?

DORIAN You seem like you wanna impress me. Uhhh. I’m not really a fan of people who do bad things, I’ll be honest. I like you though so maybe I’ll make an exception.

Quentin. Ah, calling me out. I would love to impress you. But, sadly I’m not very impressive. I try to be a decent person but I do have a lot of flaws. I could be whatever you like whoever you like though. I’m pretty flexible

DORIAN You’ve impressed me so far. I didn’t say I wanted somebody perfect. I just want someone to respect me and be totally open and honest with me. I’ve been hurt a lot and I really don’t need any added stress. I just want you to be yourself.

Quentin. Well, okay then. Retract my current statement and let me start again. I’m just a very laid back guy who likes to have a good time and can get super soft when you stroke my dark side. is that honest enough?

DORIAN Okay.. and what are your intentions with me?

Quentin. My intentions. I feel like I should start singing you the lyrics to a Justin Bieber song, ha. I just like you, you’re very attractive, sweet, and I’d love to get to know you more. I’ll be honest. I haven’t really been interested in another guy in quite some time. But, you intrigue me.

DORIAN You know, I’m not normally a Bieber fan, but I like that Intentions song lol. Thanks honey. I’m down to get to know each other better. Oh yeah? I feel special.

Quentin. Everyone I know says that lol. Does anyone ever actually like Bieber? lol. There are definitely things I’d like to do with you on a daily basis. But I’m trying to let you feel me out. Because I can be a hard pill to swallow sometimes. You should definitely feel special though, because you are a rare gem.

DORIAN He has a handful of songs that I like but in general, I wouldn’t call myself a fan. Plus he seems like kind of a dick. A hard pill to swallow? You seem perfectly easy to get along with to me. Don’t make me blush.

Quentin. Same. He’s definitely a dick though. I guess what I meant was, I have a lot of demons. I do a lot of things people don’t necessarily agree with. But my top three traits are definitely flirty, chill, and spontaneous. you’re very cute when you blush though

DORIAN Like I said, as long as you treat me with respect and are honest with me, we won’t have any issues. I disagree that I’m cute when I blush but thanks honey lol.

Quentin. You got it! I’ll have to agree to disagree with you there though. Because I’m the one who gets to look at you, so I’m pretty sure I know what I’m talking about. Speaking of which. You should send me a photo... please.

DORIAN You’re doing all this talking about me, but have you seen how handsome you are? Actually no, don’t answer that. I’m sure you know exactly how hot you are.

Quentin. Lmao you’re so cute. I’m so not hot. But I appreciate the compliment. God! Look at YOU!! what the fuck are you drinking cause damn it looks almost as delicious as you.

DORIAN Uhhh. You definitely are very hot so hush that noise. Lol, it was a strawberry banana smoothie. Can I have a picture too?

Quentin. yessir. It was, haha. I feel very left out of the experience. Sure, handsome.

DORIAN Look at you, following orders like a good boy. (; We can go get smoothies together sometime if you want.

Quentin. hahaha mhm. You just make me fall in line so easily. I’d like that for sure.

DORIAN What can I say? It’s a gift.

Quentin.

this is just me sitting outside editing our cover song seems like you have a lot of those

DORIAN Holy shit, can you seriously look at that picture and say that you’re not hot? Who lied to you?

Quentin. uhm... a lot of people have lied to me. But, you’re reaction definitely makes me tingly.

DORIAN Well I’m here to set the record straight. You are very very attractive, Q. Make no mistake about that.

Quentin. How are you even single? You’re like the messiah of my heart. Not that I’m Jewish by any means lol

DORIAN Lmao oh my gosh. Well because I recently got dumped for somebody else. That’s why. And before that, I was single by choice because I lost my wife in a car accident. So I took about two and a half years to grieve and get myself back together.

Quentin. Dumped for someone else? What an idiot. I definitely know all about loss though with my first real girlfriend. I don’t wanna get too dark on you. But I’ve seen a lot of loss as well. But, you definitely shouldn’t be anyone’s second choice.

DORIAN I appreciate that. It’s really nice to hear. I’m sorry you had to deal with loss as well, honey. It’s not easy. I’m gonna take a shower, we’ll continue this conversation when I get out, okay? Try not to miss me too much.

Quentin. it’s definitely not easy. But, it makes us who we are in some weird twisted sense. You enjoy that shower, I’ll be around whenever you wanna talk. I can’t help it if I miss you though.

[ 30 minutes later ]

DORIAN Hi, I’m back.

Quentin. Hi :) Did you enjoy your shower?

DORIAN I did, thank you. What were you up to while I was gone?

Quentin. Not a whole lot. Just finished editing our cover and posted it. Lots of great feedback already.

DORIAN I saw! That’s super dope. The track turned out great.

Quentin. Thank you. It’s all because you’re an amazing drummer. I had no idea but you really blew me away

Quentin. Also, I’d love to take you out soon. Like, really soon.

DORIAN Aww, thanks babe. But I only put down the drum line. You did literally everything else so don’t give me too much credit. You would?

Quentin. You still made it even better than it would have been. yes, absolutely!

DORIAN You’re too sweet. You’re making me wanna kiss you. would we get Chinese?

Quentin. I would love to kiss you, darlin. We could get whatever you like.

DORIAN I didn’t just melt a little when you called me darlin. Nope. That did not happen. It was a figment of your imagination.

Quentin. Don’t go melting too much Lmao. Oh oh.. nvm. Ha

DORIAN BIG EYES EMOJI

Quentin. Fuck you’re cute!

DORIAN So are you. Now what did you say nvm about?

Quentin. I was just gonna say unless it’s in my mouth. But I was trying to behave myself.

DORIAN Oh wow. Naughty.

Quentin. It happens. Cant be an Angel all the time. So when can I touch you again? I mean, see you.

DORIAN Oh my gosh lol. Tomorrow. If you’d like.

Quentin. I’d love.

DORIAN Cutie. It’s a date then.

Quentin. Wow, I’m so lucky. also a little nervous, ha.

DORIAN Aww, that’s adorable. Nothing to be nervous about, hon. You didn’t seem nervous the other day.

Quentin. I’m always nervous. I’m just really good at hiding it haha

DORIAN Yeah, amazingly good at it because I couldn’t tell that you were nervous at all.

Quentin. Good, you weren’t supposed to be able to tell heh

DORIAN That’s really cute though. But there’s still nothing to be nervous about.

Quentin. of course there is. You could always crush me into a million pieces and then laugh as you watch me try to pick them up

DORIAN Absolutely not. I’ve had that done to me one too many times. I never wanna put anyone else through that.

Quentin. well I’ll beat up anyone who ever tries to hurt you again. I swear

DORIAN Ooh, a man who will fight for me. Hot.

Quentin. Of course I would. You’re definitely worth it

DORIAN Blushing again.

Quentin. you sure I have to wait until tomorrow? I told you I could get impatient. I did tell you that right? Haha

DORIAN I don’t think you mentioned it lol. Our date would have to wait till tomorrow since most restaurants aren’t open and I’m pretty sure you plan on taking me out to eat. But if you wanna see me tonight, you can.

Quentin. Oh, well nvm then haha. That’s fair. I’d love to see you tonight but you can tell me no if you want. It won’t falter my interest

DORIAN you’re welcome to see me tonight. I’d love to see you too.

Quentin. Should I come to you? I’ve been mindlessly starring at the LOTR and laying in bed so I’m free.

DORIAN Yes please, come to me.

Quentin. yessir

DORIAN Good boy.

#text #texts.#chats:discord #chats:dorian #ft.dorian #ft.khai

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popculturebuffet · 4 years ago

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Jake Reviews Stuff: Bojack Horseman: Horay Todd Episode! (Plus a little bit on girls with slingshots)

Happy final day of pride month everybody! It’s been a hell of a ride.. and not just because the current landscape of the globe feels like hell right now, And to close it out we’re taking a look at an often overlooked segment of the queer community in media: Asexuality. I first learned about asexuality from the web comic girls with slingshots, because I love comic strips as much as comic books and because mainstream media tens to be really bad about telling people about diffrent facets of the lbtqa+ community, proven by the fact It took me till 2010, 18 years into my existince, to learn trans people existed from the long running candian teen drama Degrassi, birthplace of candian rapper Drake despite his damndest attempts to make people forget that, and a show that actually tackled the subject really well and the horrible shit trans people have to put up with, especially at Adam’s age. I also bring it up to apologize for a lack of trans representation of this pride as I scratched my head trying to think of some.. only to forget “oh yeah that really damn good rocko special from last year exists and has been sitting there all month dumbass” as I was writing this. I’m truly sorry and will try to get a review of static cling out sometime in june as an apology.

Back to Girls with Slingshots though because like with degrassi I want to give it genuine props and a talk here both for teaching me about it and being really good at queer representation in general. We actually meet the comic’s Ace representivie Erin, a shy 19 or 20 year old, when lead and professional dumbass Hazel hired Erin to find out who was dating her friend Jamie.. turns out

Given Jamie had only been dating men up to this point, and her one time with a woman lead to her assuming she wasn’t bisexual, when Jamie TRIED to tell Hazel what was going on Hazel, being kind of a dim, assumed it was an aaron and Erin decided rather than just you know, show up and let the the hamster in hazel’s brain slowly figure it out to do this.

Why yes that is a tiny asexual wearing the most transparent graucho marx-ish disguise ever. And why yes Hazel absolutely falls for it and even when Erin outright takes off the disguise it still takes Hazel a good minute to connect the dots. And why yes, this strip is awesome and is worth taking a large amount of time to talk about in an almost entirely unreatled article, more than i’d planned really. But eventually things hit a snag: the two TRIED having sex before Erin left to go to school in london.. and given i’ve out and out admited she’s asexual, you can guess it went badly, with Jamie feeling bad it was so uncomfortable and didn’t talk to her until visting her in london, where the two patched things up: They still loved each other, Erin was simply asexual and Jamie realized she was biromantic. However this didn’t mean Jamie herself was asexual.. and to Corsetto’s credit she actually fully dealt with this. After Jamie accidently became a meme while complaning about how horny she felt, the two had an honest talk about it, with Erin revealing she was perfectly fine if Jamie hooked up with dudes to satisfy her needs. It was a nice compromise and one of the first times I also learned polyamory wasn’t just something some weird asshole on tv did where he forced three women into what looked like an utterly miserable situation. What i’m saying is polgamy isn’t the same as polyamory and sister wives is objectively terrible and i’ve only seen minutes of it.

In fact the current daily reprint is up to this storyline and has Erin wing womaning for her girlfriend. And yes I do acknowledge this won’t be a solution for EVERY couple, everyone is diffrent.. it was really nice to show a relationship between two people of diffrent and wildly underrepresented sexual orentations that , rather get into a depressing thunderstorm over something like this, talk it out like adults and work out a resonalbe solution. Hence why I took several paragraphs of something else entirely to get into it. If you want more , check the strip out here.

https://www.girlswithslingshots.com

Okay now that plot cul de sac is out of the way, though I don’t regret a minute of it, you see the problem: Girls was the exception not the role and media wise, has a small but loyal fanbase. Big shows just didn’t really get that asexuality existed. But then one decided:let’s go let’s do this... so now i’ve talked about something else entirley for a good few paragraphs let’s talk about Bojack horseman Bojack Horseman is, like SU last time, one of the best shows of the last decade animated or otherwise. And like Steven, and adventure time before steven, it changed the game on what a genre of animation could do. See while Animation was going thorugh another renicssance in the 2010′s, it was mostly on the kids side for the first half.. Adult Animation was...

While there were good shows,after all Archer is a child of the 2010′s, bob’s burgers premired shortly after, and venture bros was, and still is, goin.. they were the exception. Family Guy was devloving from a really funny show to a horrible, unfunny mess that was and probably still is the television equilvent of screaming racist and offensive things just to piss people off and thus get attention and Adult Swim hit a slump, with several great shows like metalocalypse slowly leaving, and most that was left were garbage like Mr.Pickles. It .. wasn’t a great time.

But around half way two shows changed things and most adult animation stood up and took notice; Rick and Morty, which while i’m not as much of a fan these days was and still to some small degree is a really funny show while also having a deeply complex and deeply deconstructed lead. And around the same time. we got Bojack. As you probably know, Bojack was the tale of Bojack Horseman, a former 90′s sitcom star who starred in Horsin Around, basicaly fully house if uncle joey adopted orphans with bits of other tgif shows mixed in. Also he’s a horse and this world has a mixture of humans and various anthropormphic animals. And they dont’ shy away from that either and use that for a LOT of great jokes. Anyways Bojack is now a washed up asshole whose done tons, and as the show goes on continues to do, terribe things to get where he was, and is now trying to hang on to the scraps of his career. Around him are Princess Caroline, a pink cat and his agent and ex-girlfriend who wants a real realtionshpi , a baby and her career to go somewhere, Mr. Peanutbutter, Bojack’s dim aquantince who was on a ripoff show (which only PB seems not to get and is even called “Untitled horsing around ripoff project” at first in a flashback) and is really nice but also really bad at reading people, Diane, PB’s wife for most of the series who soon becomes bojack’s friend when she’s hired to do his autobigoraphy, and today’s subject, Todd, a 20 something cloudcuckoolander who crashed on Bojack’s couch after a party, and just.. never left since Bojack thought todd was kicked out for being gay and brought him in for brownie points (he was just lazy), and then despite insulting Todd constanlty kept him around because he was crushingly lonely and before Diane, had no other friends. There’s obviously more to it. more evolutions but as the episode title shows, today’s ep is all about Todd, so we’ll be focusing on what he’s been up to: Todd spent most of the first two seasons just kinda.. bouncing around. Whlie the a-plots could be more serious, most todd plots were wacky palette cleansears, from him ending up in jail and trying to court two gangs at once like it was that one episode of family ties every sitcom sense has copied, made a giant copy of his own head over months, or started a safe cab company for women that somehow ended up as stripper cabs. Season 3 however added more weight: Bojack’s various slights against Todd were piling up, and he was starting to get tired of it, the straw that broke the camel’s back coming when Todd’s ex emily, who todd failed to sleep with because he didn’t want to but, not knowing what an asexual even was, couldn’t comincate with it and bojack having a really bad track record of thinking with his dick.. you can kinda see what happened.

Finding out much later, after Bojack used emily telling him not to as an easy way out of telling him and both were kinda stupid with that, and Todd eventually found out something happened.. but when Bojack tells him it was sex, Todd is genuinely suprised and had, for the last time expected better of him. Really Todd is a great deconsturction of the wacky sidekick in shows like this: the often abused optimist oppisite of the pesmist asshole protaganist. But here it shows.. that can only go on so long. You can only treat a person like dogshit so many times before they grow tired of you and as Todd prepares to move out and bum around somewhere else we get one of the most iconic, and best, scenes in the series as Todd unloads on bojack after the horse tries apologizing.. couched in excuses.

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“It’s you bojack, it’s alwasy eben you” This scene hit like a truck, not just due to Aaron Paul absolutley killing it, but because as someone with a bad habit, even sometimes falling back into it, of justifying why I did something bad afterwords or blaming other people for far too long, if not NEARLY to the extent bojack did, it resonated. Sure those kinds of things may have LEAD you to the things you do but sometimes, your just doing shitty things and no amount of reason for it makes it okay. And it was a bold step to take: while the two talked on occasion and their friendship KINDA regrew, it never REALLY recovered from this. Things didn’t go back in the bottle. Bojack lost one of his best friends as his friend.. they were in the same orbit but it’d never be the same. Todd did eventually tell Emiliy what he was dealing with and Emily told him what he was, and Todd started crashing on mr.peanutbutter’s couch because, unsuprisingly, the two eventually became close friends. So with Emily out of the picture, while she liked todd she needded sex and neither of them thought of an open relationship, that’s where we find Todd, grapling with his asexuality while getting into his usual wacky misadventures, which hadn’t and would never stop, as evidenced by the horrifying sex robot he created to try and please emily in a later season. So with all of that FINALLY out of the way. we can finally dig into horay todd episode after the read more. Because while i’m going to try doing that less to get more readers.. this episode is giant just at the introduction and is a half an hour long.

We open with an orchestra, nervous Todd won’t show up for his solo.. because of course Todd’s a regular part of an orchestra now. He shows up in time to do his bit on the triangle, cheers all around

Att the bar, the various musicians wonder just who Todd is. Was in a prison gang? (Yes two in fact as stated above) A foreign prince?? ( He looked just like one and they swapizesd for an episode), a tech billionare? (For all of five minutes) Or is he both?... there isn’t a both here I don’t know why I did that. However the conductor roars in, he’s a lion, .. and it’s keith david everybody!

As you can probably wager Keith David is a faviorite of mine, one of the best voice actors around, a fantastic live actor, and just all around awesome dude.. and still pretty damn hot at 64. And while this is a minor role, ANY time keith david shows up is cause for celebration and I honestly forgot he was in this, so it was a nice suprise.

We then find out how the two know each other, with the conductor calling Todd “The most giving man he’s ever known.” Accurate. Todd once saved his pregnant daughter from a shipwreck carrying her on his back, delivered said baby on a piece of driftwood then circumcised said baby while hanging from a rescue copter.. and also had a spirited but respectful debate before hand about how circumcion had fallen out of vouge, with them eventually deciding on it since the lions are jewish and she’d like the option for the baby to join the relgion if he so chooses when they grow up. Which is both a great gag and a nice nod to circumcisons not being popular these days, and makes todd even awesome. I mean not every man would not only be repsectful when talking to a mother about this, but do so while hanging from a helicopter. Also props to the old timey paperback illustrations, which doubly sell the sudden debate bit. It’s something I love the show: while it’s one of the most depressing in existance, it’s also god a wonderfully goofy sense of humor that helps ballance things out. The conductor then explains todd later filled in last year when their triangle player died after getting his foot stuck in his triangle, another good one, but worries about todd and just how MUCH the man gives and wishes sometimes to see him not there when his part comes up, to see Todd give for himself. Then of course Todd spoils the move by coming out drenched in water with greasy hands, having tried to wash taco stains off his shirt, but then got greasy hands from said taco he ewa sstill holding and being trapped in a bathroom for an hour. That’s Todd in a nutshell: He can be legendary, selfless and utterly helpful or insightful one minute, and somehow get trapped in a hallway for an entire episode the next. That.. actually happened in case you either didn’t know or entirely forgot. Cue Credits.. a FIRST for this show suprisingly. Given most shows i’ve done are 11 minutes the credits usually happen before the show and I just forget to talk about them. I”ll breifly say the credits for Bojack are exellent and I love how they evolved and changed as each season wore on, and give the team kudos for doing what most shows just simply won’t or can’t do in western animation.

We’re at the peanutbutter residence, where PB is in the middle of his political campagin, working with his controlling and assholish ex wife katrina, and Todd gives him some pocket cheese to help but get’s shoed off and works on breakfast in the background with a giant egg for some reason. Probably because all animals are sentient here. And yes they explained how they still got meat. Anyways, Diane is annoyed that Katrina wants PB to decide if he’s for or against fracking based on public approval, insstead of you know just.. being against it because it’s wrong. She’s STILL better about it than that one episode of last man of earth I watched where the straw man liberal asshole argued with the consertaive asshole lead over a pothole they had and refused to just let his son belivie god exists because it calmed him down and in the next one forcibly dressed said son up as coal to mock his future mother in law because he’s as bad as the lead character, because this show is miserable and Ryan is what the writers apparently think a liberal is. Anyways as this goes on we see Todd.. pulling his weight. He packs diane a lunch, leaves it by her purse as she gets ready to go to work, makes said giant egg into an omlette for pb and sets up a nice breakfast complete wtih his medication hidden inside because dog. We see that despite crashing there Todd has grown from where he was and is now making sure to actively contribute to the house as thanks for letting him stay. Anyways PB needs his glasses to take them off to seem sincer because he left htem at princess carolyn’s, she also represents Peanut Butter, Todd and Diane. Todd heads off, though dosen’t sign for a package as he once ended up with cremated remains, or cremains as he calls them and I now will, over it because of course he did and heads off while a mysterious horse in a trench coat watches... more on her in a bit.

At Carolyn’s agency , PC annoynces “it’s todd” with todd giving back an excited it’s me... he should enter the room like that every time. It really fits. Anyways, it turns out PC needed him for help with actress Courtney Pourtnory, whose in femalecentric Taken spinoff ms.taken, which i’m shocked wasn’t an actual movie. There’s also a lot of tounge twisting puns which as always Amy Sedaris flawlessly delivers and that i’ll miss now the show is gone. Anyways Courtney isn’t seen as relatable so PC goes with the oldest trick in the book: have some normal guy date the celebrity to see them as relatbale and well todd’s on retainer. Todd is reluctant, less so due to his asexuality and more because he’s not only already busy with the sunglass errand, but has a meeting tonight. intresting. But PC ensures todd it’s no trouble and they can just do lunch for the paparazzi and todd does like the idea of having his picture taken. “It’s proof I exist.” It’s the same reason I hate having mine taken. It’s proof I still exist and this hell year hasn’t ended yet.

Back at the campagin unsuprisingly what todd didn’t sign for was important and Katrina just tells him to sign for Pb next time, which is like giving a dog a play bone that also has a dart full of poison that shoots out of it into the rest of the living room. There’s no way this ends well and you should know that. So Katrina asks him to dance a little sidestep on the issue instead.

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This movie is eh but this musical number is awesome and I will use it at any opportunity. Rest in peace Charles Durning. It helps it’s still relevant as hell for both sides of the isle. Anyways Todd signs a letter to the state goverment because again, telling todd to do something without even remotely thinking about it is like giving a baby a boomerang loaded with nitro glcyerne, but soon gets cloroformed by our mysterious viewer. “And down goes todd. “.. said by todd himself because of course he did> God bless this man and aaron paul’s performance. “And up comes todd!” .. whose, not suprisingly, apparently been drugged and/or knocked out enough to have a catchphrase for these situations. After grabbing a pool skimmer for defense because you know a stranger just kidnapped him, the stranger calms him down and introduces himself: And this is where we properly meet Hollyhock.. Manheim-Mannheim-Guerrero-Robinson-Zilberschlag-Hsung-Fonzerelli-McQuack which I copied directly from the wiki because this review is already running long and running behind, and I don’t want to spend an hour trying to copy that from the episode itself. The nightmare of a name, which is a running gag is because she was adopted.. by 8 gay men in a polyamours relationship. And one of them is apparently related to launchpad.

Anyways Hollyhock, who called at the end of last season to no answer, thinks Bojack might be her dad and thus bought a spy kit to figure out. And used the cholorform, if apologizing for it because once you’ve got it you can’t not use it. Todd is unsuprised by both things; As bojack hilariously but horrifyingly put it his penis was like sun dried tomatoes in the 90′s: it was on everything, and Bojack himself had that kit, mostly using it on himself because of course he did. She tracked down Todd because Todd was in Bojack’s book as his roomate. Todd explains they no longer live together and Bojack has been missing, long story there though we do know where he was due to the last episode, but since Hollyhock really dosen’t need to meet him just wants his dna to find out if he’s related or not, so Todd suggest sher house. Time for more cloroform!

At Bojack’s place Todd wonders where to find a hair, since most ladies Bojack is with understandably shower afterwords only for Holly to find one.. and a sleeping unconcious clearly spiraling once again Bojack. Todd lament siwth an oh bojack: just because he’s mostly done with the guy dosen’t mean he still dosen’t care. Todd’s still a good guy and still dosen’t want to see his former friend go through this for the 80th time... he’s just done being the one to be there for him through it and that’s understandably. Hollyhock yanks a hair which does nothing to wake him, unsuprisingly, but the mention of “blowing this place” makes Bojack wakes up as he thinks people has blow. it’s also telling that he’s worried Todd’s going to yell at him again and that he’s clearly stills marting from his understandable telling off. Todd is force dto make up an excuse since Hollyhock VERY understandably dosen’t want to tell him the truth, and Todd lightly rebuff’s bojack’s attempts to be pals again.. given he hasn’t really changed, it’s understandable. Also Hollyhock cloroforms him to get out of BOjack asking more questions and sends todd to take the dna to a place. Todd heads to a 1 hour dna testing lab, because of course there’s one this is LA. But without Hollyhock’s dna they can’t do it but the guy says to come back with it in an hour after he’s done with lunch.. which gets Todd to realize OH SHIT I HAVES A DATE and he runs off. The fact he DIDN’T actually say that is a suprise.

At the date Courtney transparently breaks up with Todd for publicity as Todd is utterly confused, before getting reminded about hollyhock. This scene just kind of happened so have the first gif I find typing “David Byrne” into gif search.

Back at Bojack’s house all Hollyhock’s done is snoop around, finding Bojack’s box of bad reviews of other people’s sitcoms because of COURSE he has that, eat a full box of donuts and take a nap.. given the simliiarity todd isn’t sure they need that test. Hollyhock naturally refuses and just wants to use todd’s hair but since the dna guy said that don’t work, they find some in her comb. Todd however has to cover for the earlier Maid excuse he gave bojack, nice bit of foreshadowing there, and cleans up the house while Hollyhock sits around. I know she’s not his daughter, still related but still and even I’m having a hard time beliving the truth. No sooner than does Todd put out that fire, than things get worse; Naturally the signutre was for pro fracking and while Katrina is pissed, not fairly as again, it’s like she handed a baby a shot gun for tots that make sa funny noise when you pull the trigger and is suprised that he shot up the couch. Anyways PB is understandabily more worried his wife will be upset he has to support fracking now, and Todd untietionally offers to distract her from the media while Hollyhock takes a nap because she feels.. really diffrent early on. While parts of her horseman traits would remain here she’s far less friendly or helpful than she would be later on in this half of the episode. it’s not BAD as sometimes it takes an episode or two for a character to properly become what their like for the rest of the series, it’s just WEIRD. Like Red Green’s monotone in early Red Green Show episodes it just feels.. off.

Todd rushes off to Girl Croosh, the click baity blog diane works for because I forget when things happened sometimes, where Todd is doing the most todd distraction possible: Telling diane to look at him while he dances. Which to Diane’s shock has been going on for 45 minutes.

Diane’s boss Stefani comes in voiced by the wonderful Kimiko Glenn who I admited to loving as a voice actress, and having a crush on back in my first close enough review and still stand by. She’s wonderful. Stefani berates diane for not being clickbaity enough, other plot for this season etc etc next todd crisis. Princess Carolyn is annoyed they didn’t get a picture of courtney with todd.. even though she left first but this eems to be the “blame todd for things that are either not his fault or you should’ve expected by talking to him for five minutes” episode. Anyways PC says to be at the shark jacob’s fashion show in 30 minutes, and Diane bemoans trying to get people to pay attention to the world sucking. Todd shows some more competence and actually gives her a good metaphor: When mr.peanutbutter dosen’t want to take his pill, as I expected, Todd disgusied it.. though in the cheese. Just do that: put some hot goss around the rest of it. Todd, to keep her away from the computer with a literal headline that reads “Mr.Peanutbutter supports fracking and hasn’t told his wife yet”, because this show is amazing, makes up a story about Channing Tatum having an illgitamte daughter and gives her the testing hairs. The theme of this scene, and the episode really is that people underestimate todd: understandably the man got lost in a bathroom at the top of this episode and refused to sign a package because of past shenangians... but because of that they fail to see that todd is .. actually really compitent, insightful and caring. IN this one scene he actually suceeds in his mission in the dumbest, toddest way possible, then on the fly kills two errands with one stone while also giving Diane genuinely good advice. But the big question the episode poses is.. what does TODD want at the end of the day and just how much of this “doing everyones shit for htem” should he take?

As Todd passes a sheep with a wonderful “The end of the wool is coming’ sign, he sneaks into the fashion show.. we also see a background model bird smoking that I SWEAR is a protytpe for tuca, just with a diffrent bodytype and a more aloof, supermodely face. Though if this is the same universe it could just be a sister of hers. It’s not out of the realm of posiblity. And yes I will defintely be talking Tuca and Bertie at some point, especially once it comes back next year. Being todd he ends up walking the runway instead, and it goes poorly, but Todd telling them that fashion shouldn’t be elitest somehow works and he become a hit. Also Tim Gunn is there as himself, beacause this show liked to mix animal versions of celebrites iwth the real ones, and sometimes had the real ones voice the animal versions of themsselves. Todd also gets a call from Diane: it’s a match. ALso I forgot Todd’s wonderful ringtone which is him , to the opening of that one betooven song going “todd todd todd TODD!” Magical Back at the horseman residence, Bojack’s sent hollyhock to go thank channing tatum for collecting his mail and goes through all the mail that piled up while he was MIA. He’s also wallowing about his miss opprtotunites, some involving pottery barn. He’s suprised by PB’s governor run, with Todd countering that of course he knew he’s been around and when Bojack asks how Diane feels Todd shoots that down right away and insists he just ask her himself, and again counters; Does she even know he’s back? Bojack insists he’s no tready, and he’s only told Todd he’s back.. and his various drug guys, channing tatum, and hollyhock. But not his inner circle. And given he and PB tend to not mesh well, though it is getting better at this point, he ruined things with Todd, he dropped PC for entirely warranted reasons.. Diane really IS the only person he has to call and he’s likely afraid of disapointing her. He then tells Todd to friend break up with channing tatum, with todd thinking his speech was about him and being understandably disapointed. I also like Todd’s attiude here: he’s done just.. taking Bojack’s shit and isn’t going to stick around for it and only really agrees to go to channing tatums because Hollyhock’s over there and he needs to tell her.

Todd goes over and lies to hollyhock after warning her BOjack might not be readyf or a daughter and Hollyhock expresses her own doubts. Then diane shows up and Todd’s force dto play being channing tatum so they both don’t get arrested for trespassing. Diane confronts channig with her thoughts he’s the father, which hollyhock instnatly realizes exactly what that means, but relents on doing so, not wanting to be that kind of journalest and ruin someone’s life for her own benefit. Todd gives her a pep talk and she accepts it’s him because it’s what she thinks channig tatum would say and leaves with a cheery “love half your movies. Hollyhock meanwhile has fled, obviously upset and before Todd can deal with THAT, he gets another call, clearly tired at this point as am I as i’m not only not used to reviewing 22 minute shows anymore, let alone 30 minute ones, but I have a ticking clock due to my own procastination. She once again gets mad at him, this time a bit more understandably, and Todd darts off to meet courtney.

The two talk, and Courntey is dressed like todd only her hat is 50 dollars.. and that’s a hella don’t... I miss Macklemoore. Anyway, Courtney opens up about being seen by everyone but not being seen at the same time.. which todd relates to even if courtney can’t fathom someone having the same feelings, but admits it’s nice to talk about it while Todd laments about his meeting, worrying h’es not ready yet. That what if it goes badly? What if the idea of something is better than the truth. I realate both due to my anxiety proving that and because as a comics nerd and general nerd, that’s happened more times than I can count, both with legendary stories that turned out to not be very good or something I really looked forward to turning out to be a mess, like It Chapter 2, or Zoolander 2, or Secret Empire or.. point is Courtney does relate to that and prefers fiction and the paparazzi, the same ones who tailed bojack for multiple episodes in season 1, eat it up with Courtney announcing their engagment iwth todd responding with “Horay i’m confused!”... that’s me all day everyday buddy.

Todd goes back to Bojack’s to find Hollyhock, and being a good friend even to someone who certainly dosen’t deserve it at this point, tells Bojack the truth.. which he reflexvley denies before Todd admits she didn’t want to tell him and Bojack. understands and once again piles pity on himself.

We then get the scene that got me to review this in the first place.. thanks asshole! All jokes aside, the two have an honest conversation: Bojack, while not outright saying sorry admits all he does is hurt people and he slept with the one person he ever saw todd be in love with... given it’s hard for him to give out a genuine apology, it’s still a good moment as it shows Bojack, even if he screws up constantly, is really apologetic about destroying their freindship. That part also shows WHY it was wrong: Sure todd couldn’t and wouldn’t sleep with her.. but it dosen’t change the fact Bojack SHOULDN’T have , knew what he was doing, did it anyway and then never told him.

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He continues with it though after todd wonders if he’s evne allowed to love. , saying he got more of Todd than he deserved, and all the guy asked for was a roof over his head and the ocasional smore in a baquet, and tells todd he didn’t deserve him and he really appricated him. This.. actually gets Todd to open up and he comes out as Asexual to bojack which after making it clear it means he’s not a sexual deviant, dynamo or what have you, a great wordplay gag, that he’s just not sexual.. Bojack.. shockingly and to Todd’s suprise dosen’t think it’s weird like he expected, but is thrilled and honeslty wishes sometimes he was asexual and we get what I consider to be the best joke of the seris. Bojack; Maybe then I wouldn’t have A strain of herpes Todd; You have multiple strains Bojack: I know, it only works with the A. Todd feels.. good.. while i’m not Ace myself I am bisexual and both times i’ve come out, first to my mom and a few friends, then to the rest of the world this month on facebook, it felt.. freeing. To not have to worry or hide no more.. to just be who you are.. and it feels.. good to Todd. While Bojack tries to slide back into friendship since todd isn’t mad about Emily anymore, Todd gently stops him: It wasn’t just here, as I made clear earlier, he’s not ready to be his friend again.. but hes ready to be more than NOT friends. While their freindship won’t be the same anymore, as Todd makes painfully clear.. Todd gives him a genuine i’t’s good to see you as he leaves. Again he may not LIKE the guy anymore and understandably dosen’t want to be the only person he can count on in bojack’s life... he still wants the guy to be okay, which the fans could probably relate to the whole damn series; Being fed up with his bullshit and TERRIBLE TERRIBLE actions, but wanting him to be better already. The door rings.. and it’s HOllyhock. We MIGHT get to that another time, but for now we close out Pride, and todd’s tale as todd goes to his meeting... which as it turns out...

While there is still more miles on Todd’s journey, ending his sham engagement set up here, a failed relationship and a sucessful relationship at the end of the series, not to mention reconcliation with his family... Todd takes an important step and takes what he wants, finding his people and being proud of who he is.. and that’s sometimes the best and hardest step. And we get a nice button on the framing device as Todd misses his solo for the first time, to the conductors delight. The End.

Final Thoughts: This was a really good rewatch. While not AS heavy as some other bojack episodes, it still has plenty of good character work, moving along or setting up several plots for the season without any of it feeling forced whlie giving Todd added depth in his coming out story. Todd still dosen’t fully understand what his asexuaity is and is scared to be open with it.. but that beautiful scene above is what makes the episode work as is the ending right after: By finally telling someone he knows, and by being accepted by the last person he’d expect to not only understand what Todd is but embrace it.. he can finally find others like him to help him through it and finally find something for himself after giving so much to everyone else while asking nothing in return. That’s also a nice bit of deconsturction here... while Todd’s happy to help we do ssee bouncing from storyline to storyline actually wears on him and that sometimes it’s tiring being the guy everyone assumes has nothing but time for htem. It’s a nice development and Aaron Paul does it beauitfully and I do stand by HIS casting, as unlike with Allison brie where they knew diane would be an vitamese woman and cast a white woman anyway, though to Ralph-Paul’s credit, he’s throughly apologized for this and Allison Brie herself recently also apologized for it personally in the wake of the recent black lives matter lead call to not have white actors voice People of Color anymore. Also props to Jenny SLate for, if a bit late , still leaving big mouth for the last two seasons and apologizing herself among with any other actor or actress whose dropped a role as a POC when their white. It’s a good trend. But here.. I get why they didn’t try and get rid of Aaron Paul. It was probably hard enough to get executives to give a shit about Ace representaation enough to let htem do it, adding “firing a big name draw to replace him wiht a likely no name” was probably a bridge too far and sadly, sometimes you have to pick your battles, and they picked getting to have an ace character at all and to Aaron Paul’s credit he’s been an Ace ally ever since. HOpefully in the future we will get more ace chracters and more ace actors and actresses playing the part, but every journey begins with a sigle step and this storyline was a huge one. But overall the episode is truly fantastic, a highight in a series full of amazing episodes and it was a good note to go out on for this month. I won’t stop doing LBGTQA reviews obviously, and I should’ve added the a way sooner, but it’s been fun doing them and i’ve been proud too. Some have been better than others but the better one shave been some of my best work. So as we live in uncertain and stupid times, stay safe , black live matter and your all beautiful. I have other stuff in the works; a full steven unvierse arc, regular coverage and of course that “sorry I was a moron” static cling review, but until then, I love you all and i’d like, if I may, to close on a song... not by me obviously my singing voice is “sorta adaquate I guess’ at best.

youtube

#bojack horseman #girls with slingshot #todd chavez #princess carolyn #mr.peanutbutter #diane nyugen #courtney pountory #horay todd episode #asexuality #ace pride #pride month #lbgtqa #lbgtq+#pride #pride marathoon.#reviews #animation #jake

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defleurtradingco · 5 years ago

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Epoch- Disarm

(Previous: Dare, Next: Dreams)

“-now that jump was somethin’ else- I din’ think ya had it in ya ya look so- kinda like- no offense like low ta the ground there-” “And here I thought’cher long’n’lankiness was gonna do ya in since it’d take longer fer ya ta slip outta th’ way!-”

Solaina could hardly pay attention to Monte and Verdei’s banter going on beside her as Adrian directed the Area 51 troops to their designated areas.

Most of the Weres had been taken into custody, provided they didn’t flee beforehand, the angriest one of the bunch being the alligator with a metal clamp of some sort tied around their jaws.

Anja, for what it was worth, had not succumbed to Adrian’s bullet, and had been wheeled out on a gurney and into an ambulance car, giving Solaina one final glare before the doors shut. She would live, Solaina heard. But whatever happened after that was out of her hands, as it was in Adrian’s jurisdiction now.

As she looked away from the flashing lights and cars, she spotted two others coming from the facility building. Before anyone could intercept them, Solaina went to greet them quickly, waving off anyone who had come to interrogate them.

“There you are- I was worried about you.” She almost sighed with relief.

Gray kept his eyes on the floor, while Leddy bounded happily beside him. “We’re here! Outside! Got a little stuck, but I crawled out. I found him too!”

“Did you? I am sorry I did not come back to find you, I had gotten into trouble too.” Solaina apologized, trying to smile. She could not.

“Nah,” Gray shook his head. “...Figured that psycho went after ya...Kinda heard it a bit. Well, th’ yelling.”

“I see… Did you...” She paused, unsure if she should continue. “...Did you get your answers?” The cat-man shook his head again, “No. But,” He let his shoulders drop. “That’s just how it goes sometimes huh,”

“Hey!!” It didn’t take long for Verdei and Monte to come jogging up from behind her. “There ya are- where th’ hell YOU been th’ whole time?? Here?? Cuz if ya think I’m fergivin’ ya fer that whole run-around-” Verdei began, only to be interrupted.

“Yeah yeah I know- sorry. Things just kind of happened and got crazy.” Gray muttered.

“Damn right they did! Ya realize I had a twenty ton alligator-dude chasin’ me n’ th’ boney dead guy all around th’ place like a dog chasin’ a prime rib tied ta a string?!”

“I mean I was just a bone, this guy’s the prime rib,” Monte thumbed towards Verdei.

Their banter began again. Gray gave Solaina an apologetic look, as did she, before they and Leddy moved away from the two.

“...Ain’t anythin’ left for me here. Figured it’s time I move on.” “WHAT ABOUT ME?!?!” Leddy whined.

“You too.”

“You should sign on with our Were program- they will be able to get you the help you need-”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Solaina frowned, “But, you would be safer that way-”

“If anything it’s just gonna complicate things more’n they already are. I caused you enough trouble already, and almost got you knifed by a crazy bitch when I led you right to her. I think I’ve done enough here for one day.” He let his head hang. “I’m sorry.”

“Nevermind it. Please, reconsider, at least.” “I’ll think about it. ...C’mon kid, let’s go.”

“GO GO GO GO GO- where?” Leddy raced ahead and stopped briefly to look back.

“Not sure yet. Vegas is gettin’ old. Maybe somewhere different.” “Oooh! How fun! Ok, LET’S GO!!!”

Gray gave Solaina a final nod before turning and walking away with his hands in his pockets, with Leddy following closely after him.

She watched until they were gone.

“I find it strange they are walking out into the desert, and not to the road just south of here.” Adrian came up from behind her then, with his hands held behind his back. “Will they be all right? I could call in transportation for them.” Solaina exhaled softly through her nose. “...They will be fine...”

“Hm,” Adrian dipped his hand into his pocket, pulling out a packet of cigarettes and his lighter. He offered one to her, but she refused. “I did get all of your messages.”

Solaina stared out into the desert. She couldn’t see anyone out there. “Did you,” She asked blankly.

“From there I had managed to connect this facility to a name, and that name, back to us. Unfortunately, by the time I discovered enough to act upon it, you had already gone ahead. I could not get into contact with you.”

She didn’t answer. If anything, she was more disarmed by the fact Adrian had bothered to look into the matter at all.

“I stumbled into your policeman friend, then. By chance. Or rather, he did to my car. He told me about the rest on the way here.” A cloud of smoke blew out of Adrian’s mouth on the exhale.

“...You were right, you know.” He added suddenly.

Solaina’s brows furrowed in confusion as she looked up to him.

“The fact that this facility had been running for this long without us truly being aware of it. We had record of its existence, but not of its operations. I always believed keeping eyes too close to places like these was too, intrusive. There is a fine balance.

One I have trouble finding, most times.” He pulled his spent cigarette from his lips and flicked it into the dirt, stepping on it. “Had you not gone in on your own, who knows what else could...or would have happened.”

“..I do not know.” Solaina answered, still dismayed by the whole thing. “… Some of the things she had said to me were… not incorrect.”

Adrian raised a brow.

“How we are in control of almost everything, and how we keep everything segregated for their own good, for their safety. Is it really the right thing to do? We are not the police, and I do not think we should be, but...”

“Imagine what it would be like if we were not there.” Adrian continued.

Solaina felt herself swallow the lump in her throat.

“It would be worse. You know this. Grandfather knew this. That was why he started this, remember?”

“...I know...”

Adrian sighed, shifting his weight as his hands came back into his pockets. He stared off into the desert alongside her then. “...I do not claim to know everything. I doubt I ever will. But, we are here to continue the legacy. Because it is better for everyone in the long term. Maybe one day we can find a way to bring everyone together.

But not today. Not yet.”

It wasn’t what she wanted to hear. She wasn’t sure WHAT she would have preferred.

She folded her arms without realizing it was cold.

“Nevertheless,” Adrian unbuttoned his coat and pulled it off, dropping it around her shoulders. “I will clean up here. A car is ready to take you back to the base when you are. Do not worry about here.

And please, don’t run into a place you do not know that hates you without a gun. If you would.”

Solaina sniffed and looked over her shoulder towards him. “I will try not to, next time.”

As soon as Adrian had returned to the scene, the other two came again.

“Solaina I swear ya gotta stop leavin’ us behind here,” Monte complained. “That’s how we ended up almost bein’ eaten n’ turned into who knows what. Ain’t keen on doin’ THAT again!” “Me neither. Where’d Gray head off ta? Do I gotta hunt him down again??” Verdei asked, looking around. There were no signs of him or the weird scorpion thing. “Shit-” “He decided to leave on his own. I would not worry so much if I were you.”

“Now I know yer just sayin’ that.” Verdei scoffed. “...But I’ll deal with that later… guess if it weren’t for you, this whole thing wouldn’a been busted. I just dunno what I’m gonna tell my superiors now is all,” “Ya could lie an’ say ya weren’t here.” “Yeah, I ain’ doin’ that.” Solaina cleared her throat. “We will be filing a report with the police and following up with them, do not worry. We will try to make it as simple as possible, for everyone.”

“If that’s even manageable, then I suppose it’ll hafta do. I should get back home. M’ damn exhausted...” With that, Verdei came forward a step, holding out his hand and smiling. “Nice workin’ with ya DeFleur. Don’t think I’ll do it again soon but, if I had ta,”

“IF ya had ta.” Monte rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms.

Solaina smirked weakly. “If you had to. It would not be so bad.” She shook his hand.

“Nah. Don’t do anythin’ I wouldn’t.” He gave a final wave and a wink at the both of them before leaving them alone.

Monte sighed loudly. “Well… I dunno about you but I’M ready ta go home. Betcha are too huh?” “Yes, more than ever.”

As they both walked towards the car that would take them back to the base, Monte paused before getting in to look at Adrian from afar. “Looks weird when he’s actually doin’ his job. Don’t think I ever seen that before.” Solaina grunted as soon as she took the weight off her feet, letting her head rest against the car seat as she closed her eyes. “It is strange, isn’t it.” “Looks too much like his gran-dad. Gives me th’ creeps.”

“Grandfather is not that tall.” “Yer right. My mistake.”

#epoch #almost there almost there

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lordlasse · 6 years ago

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Strong

Pairing: Jesse Lingard x Marcus Rashford (can be read as friendship too)

Summary: Marcus shows up unannounced and is acting weird, no news there. But what’s going on with him?

Word Count: 1,833

A/N: This is just a small drabble I though of when I finally got some inspiration to write again! Sorry for all the POV changes, I somehow couldn’t keep it in just one of their POVs. @ppumpkines wanted to be tagged when it was done, so here ya go babe :) Love, 💕✨

JESSE

Jesse had just turned off the tv and was about to head off to bed when his doorbell rang. He looked at his watch, wondering why there would be someone at his door at 11pm. He doesn’t have to think long about who it is. Marcus is the only person that would come over unannounced at this ungodly hour.

Feeling slightly annoyed, and slightly concerned about what Marcus is doing here this late, he walked towards the door and yanked it open. Sure enough, Marcus was on the other side, wrapped in a big hoodie and sweatpants. He was looking down at his feet but slowly lifted up his head. His face was adorned by a sheepish smile and he slightly shrugged his shoulders as Jesse raised an eyebrow at him.

Jesse stayed quiet and leaned against the wall next to the door, waiting for Marcus to speak. Normally, he’d let him in immediately, but he was just curious about what the other Manchester United player would give as an excuse to come over at this time.

“I didn’t think you’d let me come over if I would’ve called first…” Marcus gave Jesse his nicest smile and his best puppy dog eyes and Jesse groaned. He’d never be able to say no to those.

Reluctantly, he stepped aside. He was actually really tired, and having Marcus over would mean at least a few hours of playing games and talking shit.

Once Marcus had taken off his shoes, which he stored neatly on the side of the hallway, he walked into the living room. Jesse rolled his eyes at Marcus’ neatness. His own shoes were thrown throughout the entire living room, and he couldn’t be bothered to pick them up.

Walking into the living room, he almost bumped into Marcus, who was awkwardly standing in the middle of it. He looked down guiltily.

“You were about to go to bed, weren’t you?” Jesse sighed. He didn’t want to make Marcus feel bad, but it was obvious from the closed blinds, the shut off tv and the cleared coffee table that he had been ready to call it a night.

“Yeah.” Smiling his most reassuring smile, Jesse tugged Marcus towards the couch. “It’s alright though, beans. We can play some games or something.” MARCUS

Marcus could see how tired Jesse really was. But he didn’t have it in him to leave. He needed Jesse around him right now. He was tired himself too, but he was too strung up to be able to go to sleep. So he generously accepted Jesse’s offer to play some games at first, but then he thought of something.

“Didn’t you tell me you wanted to watch that new Netflix show that everybody’s been talking about?” Jesse looked back at him with hopeful eyes.

“You’d finally want to watch that with me?”

Marcus chuckled, “I mean, I guess we could try it.”

Jesse slapped his leg, practically squealing with glee and reached for the tv remote quickly.

Honestly, Marcus couldn’t even remember what the show was called, but Jesse had been talking about it for weeks. No one had wanted to watch it with him though. Watching tv with Jesse was a literal hell. He couldn’t keep his mouth shut for more than ten seconds. He got way too physically involved in everything, always swinging his arms around and bouncing up and down. Basically you didn’t want to sit next to him during a movie night, ever.

But here Marcus was, doing just that. If he could just keep Jesse calm somehow, maybe he’d get some of the cuddles he was desperately craving.

While Jesse looked up the show on Netflix, Marcus walked towards the kitchen to make some tea. He was hoping that it would make Jesse even more sleepy than he already was. Marcus loved a sleepy Jesse. He’d get into this almost trancelike state in which you could ask him anything and he’d reply honestly. He was also even more cuddly then he would be at a normal time. Basically, sleepy Jesse was just a better, more relaxed version of the normal Jesse.

When Marcus got back to the living room with two steaming cups of tea, Jesse had the show ready to go. He had situated himself on one end of the couch, covered in a fluffy blanket and was looking absolutely adorable. Marcus chuckled and handed Jesse his mug before sitting down on the couch too.

Jesse was sitting too far away for Marcus’ liking, but he couldn’t really do anything about it at this point.

The Umbrella Academy was actually quite a good show so far. At least during the moments that Marcus was paying attention, it was pretty decent. But those moments were sparse.

Jesse had finished his cup of tea in record time and snuggled further into the blanket that was covering him. When Marcus tugged on the end of it so he could use part of the blanket too, Jesse just shifted his entire body to come with the blanket and eventually ended up with his head in Marcus’ lap.

After that, it was hard to focus on the show anymore. Marcus kept looking down at Jesse every other moment and wondered how he got lucky enough to get a best friend like this. Marcus could see Jesse’s eyelids flutter closed, even if he was looking towards the tv. His breathing evened out too, and Marcus smiled slightly. Jesse must have been extremely tired if the fact that he wasn’t even talking 8 miles an hour while watching a movie was anything to go by.

Marcus softly stroked Jesse’s curls and draped his arm across Jesse’s middle. He let his thoughts drift to the reason he came here in the first place.

Even thinking about the match against the Wolves on Saturday made his heartrate spike. He took a deep breath to calm himself down. He couldn’t figure out what was making him so nervous. It was weird because he had absolutely not been this nervous about a match in a while.

JESSE

He slowly became aware of a humming noise coming from somewhere behind him. He was about to turn around to see what it was, when he realized he was laying in someone’s lap. And that someone was stroking his hair. He almost freaked out, but then he realized that he had been watching The Umbrella Academy with Marcus and he smiled. For claiming he ‘definitely wasn’t a softie’, Marcus was very much acting like one right now.

Jesse’s attention focused back on the humming sound. Marcus was humming a song to himself. Jesse grew worried, because the only time that Marcus would do that was when he was profoundly stressed.

Cautiously, Jesse turned around in Marcus’ lap, lifting his head slightly. Marcus eyes snapped to his.

“You okay, beans?” Marcus gave a curt nod and Jesse scoffed.

“You think I’m gonna believe that, sprouts? I know you better than that.”

A sigh escaped the younger man’s lips and Jesse decided to sit up. He wrapped the blanket around both his own and Marcus’ legs and shifted so he was facing him.

“What’s up?” He looked at Marcus questioningly and noticed the way the other man was fiddling his hands.

While grabbing onto Marcus’ hands, he leaned a little closer and tried to catch Marcus’ downcast eyes with his. When the Number 10 finally looked up, Jesse added,

“It’s just me here. You can trust me.”

“I know that-” Marcus started, but he didn’t finish his sentence. Was he ashamed? Jesse wasn’t sure. But he was sure about the fact that something was bothering his best friend.

“Just spill it out, beans!” Patience had never been one of Jesse’s strengths…

“I’m just nervous about Sunday, alright?!” Marcus’ voice was high-pitched as he rushed the words out quickly.

Jesse couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You’re… Nervous about Sunday? Like? The match? That’s what’s been bothering you? I thought you were dying or something!” He wrapped an arm around Marcus’ shoulders and pulled him close.

“You’re gonna be just fine, silly. You’re gonna do great!”

Marcus groaned and rested his head in the crook of Jesse’s neck.

“This time it’s different, Jesse. I don’t know what’s going on. I wasn’t even this nervous against PSG last week!” he exclaimed, exasperatedly raising his hands and dropping them back down in his lap.

Jesse grew serious for a moment. Marcus would usually be a little nervous, or agitated, before a match, but he’d never had serious issues with it.

“What’s different this time?”

Marcus thought about it for a long time and eventually he said, “It’s just… There’s gonna be people watching.”

Jesse couldn’t stop the laugh from escaping his mouth, because, really? That’s what Marcus was worried about?

“Beans, millions of people watched you play against PSG. Tons of people see you play in England every week.”

“No, I mean… Important people are going to be watching?”

Marcus phrased it more like a question than an explanation and Jesse sighed. He couldn’t handle Marcus’ evasiveness. He was too tired and too impatient to figure out what was going on with his best friend.

MARCUS

He could tell that Jesse was getting frustrated. While Jesse was asleep, Marcus had figured it out. He’d finally realized what made him so nervous about this match, specifically.

He decided to just spit it out.

“You’re going to be there.”

For once in his life, Jesse stayed quiet for a while. His face was curious, not mocking, like Marcus thought it was going to be. Jesse’s voice was quiet when he spoke again.

“You’re nervous. Because I’m going to be at the game.”

Marcus blushed and let his body sag against Jesse’s. Marcus himself didn’t understand why it was such a big deal to him either, so he couldn’t expect Jesse to understand what was going on.

“So you came here, hoping that the nerves would go away… By being close to the person that was making you feel those nerves to begin with?” And for the first time that night, Marcus laughed. Because phrased like that, it sounded kind of ridiculous, even to his own ears.

“I guess?” He said in between giggles. As he calmed down, he sat up straight again and looked Jesse in the eyes. “You just always calm me down, you know that. I’m just nervous I’ll mess up while you’re watching me play.”

Jesse just nodded and stood up from the couch, extending his hand.

“You’ve got nothing to worry about, beans. You’re going to be just fine. Let’s go to sleep, little bundle of nerves.” He chuckled at his own joke, before hauling Marcus’ body up from the couch.

As they were walking up the stairs, Jesse turned around with a smirk on his face and, in a seductive tone, said, “You know I’m always watching you though, right? Even when we’re both playing, I’m watching you. Always. Especially when you bend down to pick up a ball…”

They both laughed as Marcus swatted Jesse’s arm. He couldn’t understand why he was so nervous an hour ago; he loved it when Jesse was watching him.

#story time #idek what this is supposed to be y'all #i'm so sorry lol #i hope you'll still like it a little #imma be on a plane for 12 hours so i'll talk to y'all later!!#jarcus #marcus rashford #jesse lingard #man utd #one shot #story #imagine #drabble

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artificialqueens · 6 years ago

Text

Exercise in folly 2.0 - Chapter 2.1 (Craquaria) - SamWhity

Title: Exercise in Folly 2.0

Summary: Monét looked at her with disbelief, before sighing: “Giovanni never saw the damn video. He dodged the whole thing like a pro because he was trying to be your friend”. “He’s my friend”. Cracker’s answer came without any hesitation, so natural and passionate that the other queen smiled softly. “Cracks…” Summary of the chapter: Maxwell tries again and receives an unexpected answer. Giovanni sulks and Kevin and Nicola are the best friends we all should wish for. Author’s note: Even though Aquaria and Jordan Stawecki seem to be friendly with eachother again, I decided to have them still un-reconciled for the time being. Everything you will read about this moment in time and the so-called drama should be furthermore considered purely fictional and nothing that is portrayed here has any legitimacy.

Chapter one

You keep me up at night To my messages, you do not reply You know I still like you the most The best of the best and the worst of the worst Well, you can never know The places that I go I still like you the most You’ll always be my favorite ghost

(Florence + The Machine, Big God)

Even though he deeply enjoyed touring with others queens, Maxwell Heller couldn’t help himself from sighing contently while putting down his luggage in the entrance of his apartment.

“Home sweet home”, he mumbled with a smile, before closing the door behind him.

“Coffee?”, Kathelyn asked while making her way to the kitchen.

“Of course”, the man answered, then he picked up one suitcase and started unpacking the gifts and fanarts he received on the road.

Just as he started reading a very long letter, his phone vibrated.

Monét X-Change, 2:34 pm: Got home safe?

Monét X-Change, 2:34 pm: We’re having dinner at mine, with Dustin and Yuhua. You coming?

Monét X-Change, 2:35 pm: I’ll ask Giovanni as well, but only the Lord knows what is up with that twink nowadays…

Monét X-Change, 2:35 pm: You coming, right?

Monét X-Change, 2:36 pm: Come on Cracks, answer already!

Maxwell chuckled, clearly amused by his friend’s lack of patience, before typing a short answer.

Miz Cracker, 2:37 pm: All right, all right. I’ll be there.

Monét X-Change, 2:38 pm: Perfect! Bring Kathelyn with you, it will be fun!

“What are you laughing at?”, his best friend asked, while handing him a mug full of steaming coffee.

“Kevin is being ridiculous as usual”, he explained, before taking a sip of the beverage and wincing in pain “Shit! That was really hot!”.

Kathelyn rolled her eyes, before going to her bedroom and starting to unpack.

“I’ll see a couple of friends tonight, don’t wait for me”, she said, while folding a shirt.

Maxwell nodded, then he added: “I’ll be at Kevin’s for dinner, don’t worry”.

The scoff he received as an answer was followed by a quick: “Well now I’m worried. Don’t get into any trouble, Mister”.

The look she received as an answer was enough to make her giggle.

“I love you too”, she conceded with a soft smile, then she closed the door behind her.

Kathelyn, 2:43 pm: I’m serious. We don’t have enough money to pay bail yet.

Kathelyn, 2:43 pm: Can you imagine? Okay, Kathelyn, time for slob.

Kathelyn, 2:44 pm: You have to admit that it was pretty funny.

Kathelyn, 2:44 pm: Right?

Kathelyn, 2:44 pm: RIGHT?!

Maxwell, 2:45 pm: I was waiting for you to finish your little piece…

Kathelyn, 2:45 pm: Don’t be so salty… :P

Maxwell, 2:46 pm: I will call in intervention, if you don’t stop

Maxwell, 2:47 pm: I’ve warned you

Kathelyn, 2:47 pm: You’re no fun…

After a couple of minutes, Maxwell’s phone vibrated once again, making him snort.

Kathelyn, 2:52 pm: You have to admit it. It’s time for slob was HILARIOUS.

***

Nicola, 2:43 pm: I just received the upteenth video of “Viva Las Vegas”. Please send help.

Giovanni Palandrani, barely awake but already in a weird mood, chuckled at his phone. With a little smile on his lips, he typed an answer.

Giovanni, 2:44 pm: Oh, poor you. Do you want me to send you “New York, New York”, just to switch it up a little bit?

The answer he got made him giggle stupidly.

Nicola, 2:45 pm: Do not even dare, kid! Otherwise I will personally ask Gaga to strike you from her beloved list of the most loyal fans!

Nicola, 2:45 pm: Where has the respect for the elders gone?

Nicola, 2:46 pm: Not that I’m old.

Nicola, 2:46 pm: Because I am certainly not old, understood?

Giovanni’s smile grew bigger. He quickly replied, before making his way to the balcony of the hotel room.

Giovanni, 2:47 pm: I would never imply you are old. I will just state that Shaquida was still going to daycare, while you were already driving one of those ugly tanks you like so much.

Giovanni, 2:48 pm: To quote Bob the Drag Queen, Nicola Formichetti is so old, he would probably die the moment he decided to act his age.

He did not receive any kind of answer for a couple of minutes and the lack of response made him worry he took it too far. Why was he always taking it too far?

“Goddamn it, Giovanni”, he murmured, before typing quickly.

Giovanni, 2:51 pm: It was totally inappropriate, I am so sorry! I should have just shut up.

Giovanni, 2:51 pm: Sorry, I am just in a weird mood. I am so so sorry…

Giovanni, 2:52 pm: I understand if you’re mad now but please know I really did not mean it in a disrespectful way.

The answer he got made him snort his water and sigh with relief at the same time.

Nicola, 2:54 pm: RELAX, I was just busy. I know how to roll with the punches kid… ;)

“You bastard”, he whispered, before answering.

Giovanni, 2:55 pm: Busy recording yourself playing the piano? Charming… :P

Nicola, 2:55 pm: Can we please go back to the apology? I liked you way better when you were sincerely apologizing…

Giovanni started laughing, before realising someone knocked at his hotel door.

“It’s open”, he said.

One of the hotel’s butlers was standing in front of the door, looking at him composedly, his hands hidden behind his back.

“The car will be here in less than forty minutes, sir”, he announced, before handing him a bouquet of flowers and adding: “Someone left this for you at the counter, today”.

The young man thanked him, before closing the door behind him and starting to gather his suitcases. He could do it even without Jordan, he thought to himself.

He put the bouquet on top of his carry-on, before picking the card and reading it out loud.

“To Aquaria. Thanks for the most amazing show I could possibly wish for. You are one of the best performers I had the pleasure to witness and I can’t wait to see you again, slaying on stage. Xoxo”

The boy smiled, before taking a picture of the sweet gift and uploading it to his Instastories with the caption “Blessed” and a smiling kitty.

In that exact moment, his phone vibrated again.

Monét X-Change, 3:04 pm: We’re having dinner at mine today! You’re in right?

He smiled, excited at the idea of seeing Kevin, before realizing he could not possibly make it to New York on time and sighing.

Aquaria, 3:04 pm: I wish! I’ll be back later tonight :(

Aquaria, 3:05 pm: You can feed me leftovers for brunch tomorrow, if you’re free. :D

Monét X-Change 3:05 pm: Lunch at mine and it’s a date. ;)

Aquaria, 3:06 pm: Now that took a turn…

Monét X-Change, 3:06 pm: You bitch!!!

Monét X-Change, 3:06 pm: You only wish…

A quick glance at his watch made him realize his ride would have arrived in a couple of minutes. He put his bags on the trolley he got from the reception and made his way to the elevator.

“You can make it, see?”, he murmured to himself, trying to avoid thinking about the whole drama around Jordan and his sudden interest in Los Angeles.

Once in the elevator, he found another text.

Miz Cracker, 3:12 pm: Are you coming to Monét’s?

He quickly left the message on read, before going back to the other one and trying to come up with a silly if not funny answer.

Aquaria, 3:12 pm: Last time I checked, I already gave to charity. Like a ton. Maybe next year you’ll be luckier ;)

“Weak”, he murmured to himself, before exiting the elevator and waiting for the car in the lobby of the hotel.

His phone vibrated again.

Miz Cracker, 3:14 pm: Are you purposefully ignoring me?

Miz Cracker, 3:14 pm: If you do not feel like talking it’s fine, just stop leaving me on read.

Miz Cracker, 3:15 pm: For real, Giovanni.

With a sigh, Giovanni locked the screen and saw the car approaching. He exited the building, put his sunglasses on and smiled at the driver, who then proceeded to load the suitcases in the trunk. He sat in the back-seat and put on his headphones, trying to come up with an answer for Cracker as well. Nothing. His phone vibrated once again.

Monét X-Change, 3:22 pm: You little sly bitch…

Monét X-Change, 3:22 pm: Have you talked to Cracks, btw?

Monét X-Change, 3:23 pm: And don’t you even dare to play dumb. You know better.

“Shit”, Giovanni murmured, before biting his lower lip and typing a couple of words.

Aquaria, 3:24 pm: I don’t know what to say.

Monét X-Change, 3:25 pm: Kid… just tell him how you felt while watching that video.

Aquaria, 3:25 pm: It’s not that.

Aquaria, 3:25 pm: It’s a lot more than that and I do not know how to react. And fucking everything around me is crumbling…

Monét X-Change, 3:26 pm: I heard about Jordan. I’m sorry, baby.

Aquaria, 3:26 pm: Can we please not talk about it now? I don’t really feel like crying in a taxi…

Monét X-Change, 3:27 pm: Of course, baby. Of course. I will see you tomorrow okay? Come at around one and we’ll have a kiki.

Aquaria, 3:27 pm: Thank you, Kevin. :*

“We’re here”, the driver pulled over, before exiting and starting to look for a cart to put Giovanni’s luggage on.

The young man exited the car as well, then took his bag and thanked the driver with a polite smile.

“Keep the change”, he said, while handing him some cash.

He quickly entered the airport and deposited his suitcases, before heading to the lounge and helping himself with a glass of juice.With a sigh, he took his phone out of his bag and tried to come up with a reply for Maxwell.

Nothing. Again.

The screen lit up for a quick second.

Nicola, 3:51 pm: Already at the airport? How are you feeling?

He bit his lower lip, before answering.

Giovanni, 3:52 pm: Honestly? I don’t know… I have so many things on my mind and I can’t stop thinking about other things and all this thinking is making me crazy.

“Way to go, Giovanni. You really have a way with words”, he sneered, after reading the message once again.

Nicola, 3:52 pm: Care to untuck? (See what I did there?)

Giovanni smiled at the attempt at making him laugh, before typing further.

Aquaria, 3:53 pm: I do not know where to begin, honestly… there is so much going on and I have so little control over how things are going…

Nicola, 3:54 pm: I will take an educated guess and say it has little to do with the lack of creativity in your current work, right?

Nicola, 3:54 pm: And before you start, your work is still fucking incredible.

Nicola, 3:55 pm: But I’ve known you long enough, kid…

The young man sighed, before answering.

Giovanni, 3:56 pm: I am in a weird place, right now. After all this drama about Jordan and people assuming I treated him like a fucking slave, I had to sit and watch that video. And it stung more than I could ever predict.

Giovanni quickly realized he was close to tears and decided to put his sunglasses back on, just to prevent a scene.

The other man’s answer was concise.

Nicola, 3:58 pm: Tell him

Nicola, 3:58 pm: Tell him that it hurt and maybe you can sort this shit out

Giovanni, 3:59 pm: Maybe

Nicola, 4:00 pm: Listen, I’ll be in NYC tomorrow afternoon. Sushi at mine?

Giovanni smiled: the care that man had for him was something he was incredibly grateful for, even if he could not quite figure out why the older one was caring so much. He quickly typed an answer.

Giovanni, 4:01 pm: I could use some sushi for dinner tomorrow, actually

Nicola, 4:01 pm: Then it’s a date! Let’s say at 9 PM?

Giovanni, 4:02 pm: That sounds perfect. I’ll see you tomorrow.

Nicola, 4:03 pm: See you tomorrow, kid. Be safe xoxo

When his flight was announced, the young man got up quickly and made his way towards the gate. Once seated, he closed his eyes and slowly fell asleep.

***

“Guess who’s back in da house!”.

Kevin welcomed him with a solid hug and a warm smile. Maxwell entered the apartment, hung is coat and made his way to the kitchen, where Yuhua and Dustin were chatting sipping on some cheap wine.

“Hi guys”, he smiled and took a couple of steps forward to hug the both of them.

Yuhua hugged him back, with a big smile.

“How have you been, girl?”, the queen asked, before making space for Dustin to hug him too.

Max hugged the friend back, before answering: “Good. Busy but I can’t complain”.

They quickly sat at the table, waiting for the food to be delivered.

“Has someone heard from Giovanni?”, Dustin asked, while sipping on his glass of wine.

Kevin raised his glass, nodding.

“I did. He’s not home until later tonight”, he explained, then he added: “I will meet with him tomorrow, to see how he’s doing and stuff”.

Yuhua raised an eyebrow.

“Stuff?”.

In that exact moment, Maxwell chocked on his glass of soda and started coughing, causing Dustin to laugh manically.

“You bitch!”, Kevin laughed, patting his best friend on the back in order to prevent him from choking any further, “I want to see how he’s doing, what he’s up to and this kind of things. I also have yet to give him my Christmas present”, he said with a proud smile.

The sound of the doorbell interrupted the conversation and the host stood up to go take the food and pay.

“I’ll be right back, ladies”.

After a couple of minutes, they were sitting in front of a plethora of boxes and paper bags full of Thai food.

“You really went all out”, Yuhua looked at the food with disbelief, before adding: “Are you sure you don’t need anything from us?”.

Kevin pinched his friend, before opening a container and smiling at the sight of the steaming hot curry inside it.

“I just thought it would be nice to spend time all together again”, he said before pausing and adding: “Well, without Giovanni… but you know what I mean”.

The others nodded, before starting to eat.

***

Finally in his apartment, Giovanni left the suitcases in the hallway and sighed.

“Home sweet home”, he murmured, before switching the light on and deciding he might as well turn the heating on and warm up the rooms a little bit.

His phone vibrated, making him jump.

Jordan, 00:17 am: In February I will be gone.

Jordan, 00:17 am: Just letting you know.

The young man bit his lower lip, before typing a quick answer.

Giovanni, 00:18 am: Thank you for letting me know.

He put his phone back in his pocket, then he went to his room and opened a drawer, taking out a small plastic bag. He rolled himself a joint and went to smoke it on the balcony, trying to clear his head.

“Shit”, he murmured, before closing his eyes and sighing.

He did not know what to do, let alone how to react to Jordan’s antics any more. After the whole fiasco in London, he had absolutely no idea how to go further without ruining their friendship. When the management stepped in, he had no other options than to fire him and the expression in his eyes was one of defiance and cockiness he had never seen before.

“As if you would survive a day without me”, Jordan sneered, before collecting his jacket and leaving the room.

Giovanni took his phone out of his jacket, hoping Nicola would be awake and willing to listen to him vent.

Aquaria, 00:23 am: I am currently sitting on the staircase outside and all I can think about is how many friendships I’ve fucked up. It’s making me slowly insane and paranoid and so unsure of myself it is almost disgusting. I don’t recognise this part of me and it scares me, I don’t know how to react to Maxwell’s messages or to Jordan’s rage and it is making me go crazy.

He sent the message without checking the name of the receiver. Needless to say, just because karma and faith every once in a while love to play tricks on people, he sent it to Maxwell instead without realizing the mistake he made.

He locked the screen, finished his joint and headed to the bathroom to have a shower, blissfully unaware of what just happened.

***

Maxwell’s phone vibrated, making the man jump slightly.

“Everything allright, Cracks?”, Kevin asked, before looking at him quizzically.

The other man nodded.

“It’s just my phone, Kathelyn must have gotten home or something”, he replied, before taking his phone out of his pocket.

The message he got was definitely not from Kathelyn.

Needless to say, the man barely managed to whisper a confused: “What…?”, before signalling to his best friend to join him on the balcony.

Once the door behind them was closed, much to Yuhua and Dustin’s disappointment, the younger man was presented with the other one’s phone.

“What is happening, Max?”, he then asked.

“Read it”, Maxwell said, sighing.

Kevin read everything twice, before looking at his friend with concern in his eyes.

“I reckon it wasn’t for me either”, he then commented, trying to lighten up the mood and failing miserably at it.

Max sat on the floor, before closing his eyes and murmuring: “What should I do?”.

The other one shrugged, before joining him on the floor and giving him his phone back.

“Well, now at least you know he’s not mad or something…”, he murmured, trying to sound comforting, “I’ll see him tomorrow and maybe I can try…”.

“No, I don’t think it’s a good idea”, the other one interrupted him, “I don’t want him to feel trapped or some shit”.

Kevin nodded.

“Yeah, it makes sense”, he mumbled, before getting up: “Let’s go and see what the others are doing. I will keep you posted tomorrow, okay?”.

Maxwell nodded, then he got up as well and squeezed his friend’s hand.

“Thank you”.

#craquaria #miz cracker #aquaria #monet x change #hurt/comfort #slow burn #rpdr fanfiction #exercise in folly #samwhity #s10 #canon compliant

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madcapmoon · 6 years ago

Text

Guy Picciotto - 2003 interview

by Mark Prindle

Guy Picciotto is one of the central songwriters/guitarists/singers in what might be the most consistently great rock group in the world.

Phish.

No, come on now! I'm simply telling a funny joke to you! Guy is actually in Fugazi. He previously served as vice-president of vocals and guitar for Happy Go Licky, where he helped increase gross revenue by 20% over two quarters. Before joining Happy Go Licky, Guy worked with musical startup One Last Wish, where his accomplishments included the establishment of a North American headquarters and significant exposure building in the channel. Guy also spent three years with Rites of Spring (NYSE: ROS), where he was credited with the invention of the now-ubiquitous "emo" subgenre. Guy's duties with Fugazi include writing songs, singing them and playing guitar while singing them.

Guy agreed to a telephone interview because he's a supernice guy who doesn't let the fact that his band IS THE BEST FUCKIN BAND IN THE WORLD(!!!!!!) go to his head. He's "down-to-earth"! He also speaks incredibly quickly, which made real-time typing a real pain in the ass, especially when three-quarters of the way through, two fingers on my left hand came loose and flew across the room, leaving "W," "E," "S," "D," "X" and "C" in dire straits. Luckily, Guy didn't use a single one of those letters in the last ten minutes of the interview. Except "sex," which he said 179 times. Unfortunately, I was unable to type those parts, but I assure you - things were getting pretty hot and heavy there for a while! Ooo la la!

My questions are in bold - Guy's answers are in plain text.

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

Hello?

Guy?

Yes?

Hi! This is Mark Prindle, the interviewer guy.

Hey! How's it going?

Fine! Do you have time now?

Sure!

Okay so, whether you like it or not, you're basically considered to be the creator of "emo." And I was just wondering - why have you always thrown yourself so emotionally into your music?

Well, first of all, I don't recognize that attribution. I've never recognized "emo" as a genre of music. I always thought it was the most retarded term ever. I know there is this generic commonplace that every band that gets labeled with that term hates it. They feel scandalized by it. But honestly, I just thought that all the bands I played in were punk rock bands. The reason I think it's so stupid is that - what, like the Bad Brains weren't emotional? What - they were robots or something? It just doesn't make any sense to me.

But anyway, when I was young, I was always over the top because I was so fucked up. Not "fucked up" as in "wasted" but more mentally "fucked up". And I was really jacked up. So it came out of that. I mean, before I was in Rites of Spring, I was in a band called Insurrection with Brendan, the Fugazi drummer who I've played with in every band I've been in.. And our music was like Motorhead and Discharge and Venom - shit like that. That was what the band sounded like. And we weren't very good! But nobody was calling THAT "emo." Then when we started Rites of Spring, I guess we got more serious about what we were trying to do. But I didn't actually sing in Insurrection. In Rites of Spring, I decided to sing and that's what came out. Because when I was young, I was nuts.

Like that scene in the "Instrument" movie where you push your legs up through a basketball hoop and sing upside down while dangling from the rim by your legs!

Yeah, that era of Fugazi was weird because I joined the band in a staggered way. I joined after the band had already been playing together and writing songs for a few months. I'd always been a guitar player - I was in five bands before Fugazi and I played guitar in all of them - but I didn't see room for another guitar in Fugazi with the way the songs were. So my concept was I'd be like Flavor Flav or something; a guy who sang occasionally and played a different role, offsetting things. When we started playing shows, I was so used to having a guitar, I had to struggle to find a way to occupy myself. It's funny - that show with the basketball hoop was NOT a big show. The way it's filmed makes it look pretty crazy, but there were probably 20 people at that gig. It was in Philadelphia in a gymnasium or something. It was one of our first ten shows, and we were playing really fuckin hard. In the movie, we cut off the film before you see that I fell.

You FELL?

Yeah, I fell into the drumset. Fucked myself up pretty bad.

Good lord! So. do the songs you - when you're playing a live show and you get to one of the early songs that only had one guitar, do you put your guitar down? Or have you written parts?

We don't use a set list, but basically before we go on tour we learn every song we've ever written except a few things we can't stand. So we call stuff out to each other, and it can be any of like a hundred songs, so when someone wants to play the old stuff, I'll put my guitar down. On a few of `em we've added a second guitar. Like for "Merchandise," we added a guitar idea for me. "KYEO" is another one; we reworked that for two guitars. "Furniture" is one of the oldest songs the band ever wrote, but when we decided to redo it, we put it together with a second guitar. But for most of the other early ones, when we do them, I put the guitar down and get the chance to stretch my legs.

You said there are some songs that you're sick of?

Only two or three. And there's one we can't figure out how to play. We just never added it to our live show. That's "Polish" from Steady Diet of Nothing. And there are a few others here and there that have drifted away.

Every Fugazi fan I know feels the same way I do - that every album you put out is even smarter and more interesting than the previous one, which was already really smart and interesting. Does this sort of audience expectation ever scare you at all? Like, are you ever afraid that you won't be able to live up to your own expectations of yourself, or that you might get writers' block or anything like that?

We've certainly had that. That's why it takes us so long between albums. We are really slow. That's one of the weird things about the band; all four of us have really extreme filters. Nothing will get past us if it stinks. It's happened a few times, but we're really hard on ourselves and on each other. For each song that ends up on a record, there are so many permutations and arrangements that have been discarded. But we have a high standard. And if it ever got to the point where it just wasn't working anymore, I think we'd have to put it to bed. But what's helped is that with every stage of the band, it's gotten MORE democratic instead of less. In the beginning, Ian had written a bunch of songs so that's what was on the first record. After that, more people became involved in the writing process. First I started writing some, and then Joe sang a few of his, and now we all write and we've even added a second drummer. One thing that nobody realizes is that our drummer writes tons of the guitar parts and bass lines. He's as involved in the songwriting as everyone else. Outside of the lyrics, I mean.

I noticed that there's only a few bands on Dischord right now. Is there still any kind of hardcore or punk scene in DC?

Yeah, but I mean it's very different from what it was in 1980, when it really was contained enough to where you knew everybody and all the bands. In terms of music, the city has grown so much stylistically over the years. There are so many types of music going on. Even on Dischord, the bands have aesthetically splintered off in so many directions. So the scene isn't unified in a sonic sense, but there are still people who've lived here for fucking ever who still hang out and go to shows.

I know that Fugazi is very much into DIY and avoid the major labels, but do you - are you against other bands that do that? Like Nirvana - would you say they "sold out"? Or do you not really care too much what other bands do?

We take care of our own business. I know a lot of bands that have made completely different decisions, friends of mine too. But I'm not into other peoples' business like that, and the way they decide to run things doesn't impact my enjoyment of what they create. But for us, we're serious control freaks. I think part of the reason we've been together so long is that we work in isolation and we have the freedom to do what we want. A lot of bands I respect decide to do it a different way and the pressures put on them by the music business just fuck them up. It's an object lesson. I'm into people being inspired by the way we work, because it works. But it's not a template I think everyone absolutely has to follow. But that's me - I personally don't feel judgmental about what other people do.

Wait, you're not typing all of this, are you?

I'm a fast typer! Don't worry about me!

Oh, I'm sorry!

I tried to record through the phone a couple of times but my phone is too quiet, so. I type fast though. Of course, you talk fast too.

Yeah, I need to slow down.

Nah don't worry about it. I know I'm taking it out of context here, but what did you mean by that old lyric, "I realize that I hate the sound of guitars"?

That's funny you mention that on the heels of your last question. That song was written at that moment when all the shit was exploding for underground music. This gushing of guitar bands, marketing of guitar bands, was so obnoxious to me, that at a certain point, I just realized, "Man, I'm fuckin tired of hearing about this! It's just so pat." In a way, it's kinda perverse. I mean, you can't get much more guitar-oriented a band than Fugazi, but there I was saying I hated the sound of guitars. But it was a realization that sound has no politics - guitars have no politics and just because the guitar is distorted doesn't really mean anything. It was just an industry selling point for a little while till the next oddity strolled down the runway.

Do you still get kids coming up to you thinking that you're all straight edge and purist and everything?

There's a lot of misconception about the band. And that's what happens when you don't do a lot of press; not that I have a single regret about our avoidance of the traditional PR machine, quite the opposite, but mythologies do develop in the vacuum and spin out of control. Sometimes it's really strange - you'll meet people and you realize that they're intimidated. Like they think you're gonna knock the cigarette out of their hand. And it's such a complete distortion of reality. But it's hard to explain what we're all about and give people a full history lesson of what's gone on with us. The film helped. I think that made people feel like, "Alright, they're human beings." It gave the world some perspective, which we needed to do, because we're not on TV every day or in a million magazines.

Like in the movie where one of the band members says his sister started dating some guy who thought Fugazi all lived in a cabin with no heat?

Yeah, like that! There's still this thing where people think we live this monastic existence, and it's not true at all.

Are there any new bands you're into?

Yeah, I hear new shit I like all the time. There are some great new bands from around here like Et At It, Antelope and Measles Mumps Rubella - who all have records coming out soon. And there are bands that have been around for a long time that we have an affinity with. Like Shellac from Chicago, and The Ex from Holland who I think have been around since like `78 and they're still playing music that's as radical as they've ever been. And I like Blonde Redhead from New York. Locally, there's this kid named Mick Barr, a guitar player who's played with a lot of different projects called things like Orthrelm, Octis, Crom Tech. He's this incredible, psychotic guitar player. It almost doesn't sound like a human being could make those sounds with a guitar.

Do those bands have records out?

Orthrelm and Crom Tech do. Actually, our bass player put one of their records out on his Tolotta label and I put one out on my Peterbilt label.

What else have you put out on Peterbilt?

It's kind of a weird label. I was doing it even before Fugazi started, when I was in a band called Happy Go Licky. I put out a live EP by that band. (NOTE: AT THIS POINT, MY APARTMENT BUZZER BUZZED AND MY DOG BEGAN BARKING VERY LOUDLY, HOPING IT WAS MOMMY COMING HOME FROM HUNTING. AS SUCH, I MISSED A SENTENCE OR TWO HERE)Sometimes I put out some old archival tapes like this great band Brendan was in called Deadline.

Oh, they were on, uh.

Flex Your Head, yeah. This stuff beats any of their stuff on Flex Your Head. That was the floor I came in on - Deadline was the band I was really down with.

Can you hold on a second? Someone keeps buzzing my buzzer.

Sure.

(pause)

Sorry about that. It was a delivery guy delivering food I didn't order. (NOTE: TURNS OUT IT WAS MY WIFE'S DINNER - SHE ORDERED IT WHILE ON THE BUS COMING HOME, AND HAD TRIED TO CALL ME TO LET ME KNOW, BUT OF COURSE I WAS TYING UP THE PHONE LINE WITH GUY PICCIOTTO OF FUGAZI FAME, SO HER DINNER GOT RETURNED TO SENDER, ADDRESS UNKNOWN).

So have you put the Deadline record out yet?

Huh? Oh yeah! It came out a long time ago. It's actually out of print now. I'm thinking about reissuing it though. I can send you a list of stuff I've put out. I usually do 1000 copies of each pressing, and they come in these manila envelopes that I handcut. It's actually a fuckin pain in the ass, but they look cool!

I know you play a lot of benefits for various causes. Is there ever a situation where one member of the band doesn't want to do a particular show because of his ethical or political beliefs being different than the other members, or anything like that?

The stuff we do benefits for isn't terribly controversial. It's usually local grassroots organizations that we've been in contact with for a while. Like the DC Free Clinic, I mean we're all down with stuff like that. There have never been any arguments.

Since you're a resident of Washington DC, I'd love to hear your thoughts about George W. Bush and his War on Terror.

It's crazy, man. I wake up every day thinking it's a nightmare that has to end. It's an incredibly bizarre time. I'm very perplexed. I've always felt like there's been a disconnect between the voters and the people who run the country, but lately the gulf is getting so extreme, it's like they have complete contempt for ordinary people. What we're witnessing is explicitly true class warfare from the top down. This war is absolutely insane. So are all the weird civil rights cutbacks that have been going on. You look at our government and all the way down, on every single level, something's wrong. But hopefully something good will come out of it; maybe, it'll re-energize people so they'll get involved and active in political protest.

Yeah, but what good does that do? Millions of people protested the war and he announced - ANNOUNCED - that it would have no influence on his decision.

Yeah, he had some incredible quote. Like "I don't rule by focus groups." It's seriously like he's saying, "Protesting is fine, but it's not going to have any impact. Go over there and blow off some steam if you want to, while we just run the whole world."

So what can we do about it?

If I had the fucking answer, he'd be out of there. I mean I don't have any blueprint of ,like we need to do this and this and this and it's all going to change. But feeling hopeless is easy to fall into, particularly, obviously now and I think that is a luxury we really can't afford ..... There can't be this sense that there is only one conversation going on in the world and that it is subsidized by money and power - there has to be some counter to that or otherwise we are just confirming their hustle that there is this uniformity of consensus in this country which is complete bullshit. Also, I think there are always more cracks in the system then even it recognizes. You just have to really lean on them a bit to start exposing them. Back in the 80's we would be out in front of the South African Embassy pouring red paint on the street and beating on pots and pans. Sometimes, I would have this feeling like it was just this stupid, idealistic pissing in the ocean but the thing is apartheid and white rule actually ended and Nelson Mandela, who no doubt spent major time on some State Department terrorist list, got out of prison and became president of the country! I'm not saying our midget protests in DC brought it about in any specific way, but globally speaking a lot of human weight was brought to bear and a lot of people in South Africa sacrificed themselves to make it happen and it did happen. So I mean no one knows what will come down as history unfolds so in the meantime you just have to keep adding human weight on the side of things that you think are right. And obviously, there is plenty that is not right right now.

Back to the very beginning - when Fugazi first started, was there a lot of resistance from hardcore fans who just wanted to hear fast punk rock?

The first few years of the band were confrontational on every level. It was a really weird era because you had a lot of people who - there was this weird kind of fallout where hardcore had gotten so twisted by the time it disseminated around the country, it had become just stupid and violent and it was kind of a drag. It was like going into combat, all the craziness we had to deal with back then. Like nights where you would have all these insane "Nazi" skinheads trying to smash in the front of the club. You know, all this violence over a show. It was a lot of work to go out every night to make the case for something new. In the end, it paid off, but at the time sometimes it felt like missionary work.

What is the band doing now?

We're actually kind of shutting things down for a while, because our drummer has a third child coming in April and he needs to deal with family stuff. So we're putting the band to sleep for a while. We got back from a tour of England and that was kinda the last thing we had on our roster so we did that. We had actually worked on a bunch of new music too, and made a bunch of tapes, but I'm not sure when we'll get back to that stuff. We were working pretty hard up through December, and then we had a band meeting and he let us know that he needed some time off.

What are you doing while the band is on hold?

I'm producing the next Blonde Redhead album.

Oh, you're producing?

Yeah, I worked with them on their last two records too. That'll take me through next month. Plus, the thing about our band is that even without a tour or new record, the bureaucracy of running the group always exists. And we're self-managed so most of the work kinda falls on Ian and myself. So I'll be busy just running day to day stuff and waiting on the next turn in the road.

How have you managed to stay together for fifteen years, seeing each other every day, riding in the same vans, having to deal with each other for that long without starting to hate each other? Like The Ramones absolutely despised each other by the end there!

Well, we really go back, the four of us. I've known Brendan since I was 14 or 15. I'm 38 now, so we've been playing together for 23 years. And I've known Ian the same amount of time and Joe just a little less. So we have a lot of shared history and similar frustrations. We'd all been in a lot of groups before Fugazi that had broken up. I was in five bands that I felt never reached their potential. So, I was only 22 when I joined Fugazi but still I was frustrated to an insane degree. We were all looking for a complete outlet of what a band could be.

Plus we went through all the weird bullshit right at the beginning. The first couple years, we did endless touring, like six or seven months of touring a year, and having made it through that.. It was ridiculous, it was like joining the army to go out there and do that much work in that span of time. I had been in five bands that had never toured at all. Then to join Fugazi and immediately go on a three-month tour of Europe..

Is that why Fugazi got so popular so quickly? Because you were always touring?

I don't know. Maybe that had the most to do with it. But it was an ethic that had existed since the early 80s - not just to play the big towns, but to play EVERY town. We really worked hard and took it really seriously. Our records - I've always felt like we could make a better record, but from the beginning the shows were about playing as hard as we could and making the audience FEEL something. It's weird though because the popularity thing probably peaked in '91 but we've had a really steady kind of audience for a long time. We've been around for sixteen years, and I guess there are a lot of people who are just really down with the band.

Speaking for myself, I became a fan when Repeater came out. At that point, I was in high school and I'm not sure I really would have been into something like Red Medicine or End Hits at that time. So for me, it was like I grew up and learned more and wanted to hear more challenging music, and it's almost like my interests were parallel to your own because, like I said, every album is even smarter and more interesting than the one before it. So maybe it was like that for a lot of people, they just grew up with the band.

I don't know though. Like there's that scene in the movie where the kids are ragging on Red Medicine; they were totally bummed out by it. I think of it kind of the way I think about the Beatles. In 1964, they looked a certain way and sounded a certain way, but within two years, EVERYTHING about them was different. Sonically, their clothes, they way they looked - And I imagine that a lot of people at the time didn't know what the fuck was going on. But they were just responding to the changes of being alive. That's how bands work. If you're not genre-defined, and you're reacting to reality, then the music is going to change as your life changes.

Plus, I imagine that after playing the same songs over and over on tour, if somebody comes up with a new song that sounds like the stuff you've already done, you're probably like, "Uggh! No! Do something different!"

Yeah, we always want to do something new. But certain things are built into the sound. We can push against it, but - the craziest thing about our band is that we're all pretty limited as to our actual skills. Except our drummer, who can play any instrument. We're working as hard as we can, but we're not virtuosos. We just have a discipline to push ourselves as hard as we can.

It's like what a friend of mine said - "Every Fugazi album sounds different, but they all sound like Fugazi." It's like you're not afraid to completely change your sound and make it jazzier or slower or weirder, but somehow it always has this Fugazi feel to it.

Well, we've been kinda learning how to make records. We tried to produce ourselves the whole time but for a long time we didn't know what were doing. It wasn't until around Red Medicine that we finally felt comfortable with what we were doing. We were so used to playing together as a live band but in the studio nobody took the reins. But we eventually figured it out. The idea was to - our first few records had a stiffness about them that bothered us. Over time, it became easier to feel spontaneous. The weird thing with records is that you only get to make a few. Playing live, you fuck up one night and its bad but so what? It evaporates. But if you make a bad record, it haunts you for the rest of your life.

Are you happy with all of your records?

(NOTE: AT THIS POINT, MY DOG HEARD A NOISE OUT IN THE HALL AND BEGAN BARKING REALLY LOUDLY, OVER AND OVER AND OVER AGAIN. SO I MISSED MOST OF HIS ANSWER TO THIS QUESTION). I don't know, I never really listen to them. I actually went back and listened to our first CD recently and it was like JESUS! I couldn't believe it was recorded in a basement!

Have I taken up enough of your time?

Dude, is that your dog?

Yeah.

Wow!

He's upset because my wife isn't home, and he keeps hearing noises out in the hall that he thinks are her. It's okay though - we live on the fifth floor which is the top floor, so we don't hear noises all that often.

What kind of dog is it?

A German Shepherd mixed with a Greyhound.

Oh cool!

Do you have a dog?

Nah, I have a cat.

What kind of cat?

A fat as hell cat!

Nice! Okay, here's my last question. The whole thing about breaking up. I know a lot of people thought you were going to break up when you called your album End Hits. But for me, it was a lot earlier, when I bought Steady Diet Of Nothing on vinyl and saw where you'd scratched "Don't worry; this is the last one" in the inner groove. What was that all about?

It's almost like a joke. Like that was just some - I forgot the exact reason - we were so toasted and feeling so fatalistic by the time we finished that album. It was just like dark humor - "This piece of shit's the last one." But we didn't mean for End Hits to sound like we were breaking up. There's other stuff too. People always come up to us and say, "Hey, I hear this is gonna be your last tour!"

Why?

I don't know! I guess people expect DC bands to break up really quickly so they keep waiting for us to have some kind of fall out. It's been tough - the last few years especially as people have gotten older and had kids. But we kinda work in the moment and set up parameters to work around. It's not gonna last forever, and at some point we know it will fold. But I'll tell you, there have been so many times when I've thought, "Okay, this is probably gonna be it," then another ten years go by. So we just keep on rolling and see what happens.

Cool! Well, thank you so much for taking the time. I really appreciate it.

No problem! Thank you!

Okay, have a good evening.

You too!

Reader Comments

[email protected] (Karla)

Thanks for the awesome interview. Fugazi's my favorite band, and I'm always interested in what the members have to say. I was especially glad to hear Guy's opinion on Bush's reactions to war protests. Otherwise, it's a little saddening to see that Fugazi will be pretty inactive for awhile, but c'est la vie. In the meantime, I've got to remember to check out some of those Peterbilt releases!

By the way, you've got to be one hell of a fast typer.

[email protected] (Jonathan C. Puth)

Hey, that's a great interview with Guy Picciotto. Thanks for doing it and putting it up. I enjoyed it.

[email protected]

Good interview! I was blown away at the Rites Of Spring album, Guy's work with Fugazi, and even liked the last Blonde Redhead album he twiddled the knobs on. That makes me a longtime fan, I guess... One thing that I wouldn't want to discuss with Guy is his take on politics. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think I remember Guy contributing a lot of his efforts to the Nadar campaign in 2000, under the pretence that the Corvair hating "outsider" would really make a difference. And what a difference he did make! Thanks to Guy's efforts, and thousands of other political "progressives," they directly contributed in G.W.B.'s election victory. "I'm very perplexed." states Picciotto about our current political climate, but I'm perplexed at why he is. This is exactly what real progressives feared would happen if Bush 2.0 got elected: aggression, environmental dismantling, right-wing judicial nominations, chipping away at a woman's right to choose, cutting funding for our country's public schools and numerous examples of giving hand-jobs to extremist Christian lobbyist. I'm perplexed why an intelligent person such as Guy would swoon under the rhetoric of an "outsider" like Nadar who viewed himself as a spoiler, even when he clearly understood that his campaign would give a free boarding pass for a candidate that stood polar opposite of Nadar's supposed convictions. Ralph Nadar clearly demonstrated that his campaign was not about the issues that he "believed," but instead it was all about his own ego and the fact that he, with less that 5% of the public vote, was the spoiler of the 2000 election. Disagree? Take a look at Nadar's comments to his supporters during his "concession" speech.

"This war is absolutely insane. So are all the weird civil rights cutbacks that have been going on." No shit?! For someone who lives in D.C., Guy acts like he was the last one in town to ever figure out that Ashcroft would get the nod as Attorney General when anyone with an iota of common sense understood that Bush had a special position for Ashcroft if he failed to beat a dead man from Missouri.

Guy adds: "hopefully something good will come out of it; maybe, it'll re-energize people so they'll get involved and active in political protest." Sounds like something strait out of the Green Party campaign book: let's let the worst candidate get elected and that will somehow light a fire under the idea that a third party candidate can actually get elected tomorrow. Here's a better idea: if you're not digging what the Democratic Party (or Republican for that matter) is doing, then galvanize a group of people at the local level to push your beliefs upward and change the ideology of the party itself? For fucks sake, the Democrats are so disorganized now I think Dischord's roster could easily manage a complete overhaul of their local political party headquarters. The Christian Coalition didn't just suddenly find their voice in the Republican party; instead they got their twisted members to form a grassroots network and pushed their values up and got their ideology elected. Ronald Reagan, who rarely attended church, noticed their political clout and then started to position his rhetoric accordingly.

And while it would be easy to suggest that Jeb handed his Bro Florida, the reality is that if 5,000 Floridian Green Party voters actually used their head instead of their hearts when casting their ballots, we wouldn't even be living in an environment of "complete contempt." I know this because I voted with my heart too: In '96 I voted for Nadar under the notion that my protest vote would signal that I didn't like the shades of grey our two party system was demonstrating. With that in mind, I understood that 1.) Clinton would landslide anyway and 2.) there wasn't a slight chance of some right-wind retard nominating a Supreme Court justice (which, Ralph, has more power than any corporate contribution). "I wake up every day thinking it's a nightmare that has to end." The problem is, Guy helped create the bad dreams of our current political state. He said it best in that old Rites of Spring song: "And if decisions cause divisions tell me who's to blame?"

Other than that, Guy, you fucking rock...

[email protected] (Neb Fixico)

Bravo. I found your site by accident. I'm glad I did. Wonderful interview. I am now a new fan of this site. Gotta go...more to read.

[email protected] (John Simon)

Thanks for the interview. Fugazi has been my favorite band since 1989 and I sure hope that the songs they have been working on make it onto an album. Funny thing about "Polish"... I love that song, but I guess I'll stop hoping that they will play it when I see them.

Also, I am a conservative (as in Republican) Fugazi fan. A contradiction in terms?... It shouldn't be. One thing that I don't understand is why all of Fugazi's fans (as well as music fans in general) think that just because Guy or whatever star may be a flaming liberal, that it is cool for them to be one too. Wouldn't they all be more rebellious and independant anyway if you guys went against the grain of your crowd? Can't you all see that Bush has waged a war on terror to enable us to live in and raise our children (including Brendan's unborn child) in a safer, more peaceful world? Don't you think that human and civil rights should apply to all of the families in Iraq that, under the evil rule of Sadam for decades, have been denied such rights and the freedoms that we enjoy?

Of course it is a shame that people have to die for peace and freedom, but these things are worth fighting for! This does not mean that I am pro-war. Only an idiot would be pro-war, but only an idiot would fail to recognize that war is sometimes necessary to rid the world of greater evils (nazis, fascists, communists, terrorists) that threaten the existence of innocent people. I am so thankful that we have a leader who is strong enough to do what is right, rather than swaying with the breeze. We just have to look beyond today and take in the big picture.

Guy's political comments make me sick, but their music isn't about the political issues of the day... at least not to me. I think that anyone who looks to uneducated musicians or actors to be their political voice is looking in the wrong place. What is really important is that Fugazi is truly a great band.

FYI - While waiting for new music from them, I have been listening to At the Drive-In a lot lately. They were independent for several albums and then put out there last one on a major label. All of their stuff is really good and you will hear Fugazi's influence.

Thanks again.

PS - Drazy, does the gatecity address for your e-mail indicate that you are from SF? If so, no reply is needed. That explains everything.

[email protected] (Daniel Tapia)

Great interview, Mark! I like Fugazi but I'm not sure if I'd call myself a fan, but why I'm writing mostly is to address the previous comment, by one John Simon, relative to the matter concerning Guy's political views, as well as political comments in general. First off, I can't tell if this guy is kidding or not with his admiration for the Bush administration; supporters of Bush are kind of like myths I hear about sometimes but very rarely ever hear words from. Whatever the case, I can't let certain words go without a response, so here's my two cents, even though most people that read this will probably agree anyway, being that Mark's writing style isn't *ahem* very conservative--which is great though!

Being conversative I guess isn't bad in and of itself, and I don't like to classify myself as a liberal or whatever, I'm just a guy that feels awful a good deal of the time to know the world is going to shit and we have people like John Simon backing a mad, war-monger cowboy. And you might say, "well, that's just your opinion too", but come on, we all know it's the truth.

Like honestly, why do you back Bush? Why back any politician? Do you realize that like a very small percentage of people run this country--the most powerful nation in the world--and without even commenting on how a great deal of them are not very bright (and they aren't) do you realize, anthropologically and sociologically speaking, centralizing a wealth of power to a main core and trying to diffuse it out DOESN'T FUCKING WORK? There's a reason every city-state civilization has never lasted a substantial amount of time--cause the dynamics of power don't work that way, and they sure don't work well by focusing power and influence among a bunch of ignorant rednecks. I'm so sick of all this fucking bullshit.

Freedom? We're doing this for freedom? What does that word even mean anymore? We live in such a postmodern age and no one wants to admit it! Think about how bizarre life and all the world is right now! It's cheesy to say, but we've come so far with technology and so many advances but look at how ludicrous things are--we go bomb the shit out of another country to find weapons that aren't there--we do it against the law basically all in the name of "freedom"? Bullshit. I hate these people that still have an idealized version of that word and of America; I could maybe see it back in the 1940s and 50s but the dream is dead--after this war; after 9/11 there's no going back and anyone to deny that is a moron. It's like, fuck, how do you think we're such a rich country? Could you say: exploitation of other countries? This is all simple logic. We've basically become an imperial monster and nobody is doing anything about it! Well, certainly many are, but the core media is too busy giving blowjobs all day to the government to address the truth. This is an age where you HAVE to go to the alternative media to find the real truth because everything else is made nice and friendly and turned into a good guy/bad guy scenario (kind of like how St. Paul fucked up the story of Jesus and made it, as well as the bible, nice and user friendly). Fuck, there NEVER were any GOOD guys and BAD guys--and ESPECIALLY in this day and age we just can't think about it anymore. Everything is so postmodern! Look at the shitty media, our shitty television shows with "reality tv"--at least a decade ago we at least TRIED to have shows with plots--now it's all about voyeurism and things are so filled with irony and postmodern elements but no--we still have jackasses actually thinking the word "freedom" still means something; that there IS still meaning when there's NONE.

Going off and killing innocent people and a few "terrorists" while we're at it won't stop ANYTHING and if you watch the mainstream news and all that stuff, yeah, I'm sure you'd love Bush because all those networks are busy sucking his cock. None of those tools during all of this "war" had the balls to say how fucking ludicrous this all was. We use these words of "peace" and "freedom" but no one knows that they even mean anymore. How free are we? How free are we when like 5 I think major corporations dictate the dynamics of power; how free when a small percentage of people are making decisions for all of us; how free when we have a sanitized media making everything seem okay and nice and fun and going on watching stupid fucking shows and stupid fucking hollywood movies that still idealize conceptions that have been dead for YEARS--the dream is dead and has been dead and I'm so fucking sick of all this bullshit. The world is going to shit and no one is doing anything about it. In my lifetime I'm going to see serious shit go down in our country with the way things have been going and it's scary. We can't go on like this; it just won't work and hasn't been working and I don't know how the collapse is gonna happen, but I know historically, sociologically, anthropologically speaking, IT WILL HAPPEN (that really scares me!)--and Rome wasn't built in a day and it wasn't destroyed in a day either, but we will be destroyed eventually because of our own petty ignorance and I can't stand anyone fucking dumb enough to talk about "fighting terrorism" or the "bad guys" or "freedom"--we live in a postmodern age and it's stupid to deny that anymore, so anyone believing the dream--that has been dead for years--and being really content getting fed spoonfuls of bullshit from the media and our moronic "leaders" can go fuck themself.

And by the way, it's not protection of the innocent, but protection of the ignorant that's the truth of the matter. Innocent--us? Try more like corrupted fat ignorant pigs. Before commenting on musicians who you call uneducated to be discussing political matters I suggest listening to something other than NBC news and backing a supposed leader who is dreadfully dumb, not to mention probably sociopathic given the hard-on he seems to have when he talks about war. And by the way, like I said, I ain't no liberal; I like to think of myself as having common sense. Anyway, great interview and thanks for letting me have these words.

[email protected] (lillie shabazz)

I'm just learning about Fugazi, loving them though. Mark, that was an awesome interview, I was excited to learn a little more Fugazi history.

I also want to add that when 9/11 hit, this country had a golden opportunity to make a leap in consciousness---instead it decided to go to war.

Also, from what I can see (and I hope it's true) this government is totally out of sync with its people. But hey, that's nothing new.

I also wanted to tell Tapiad right on. Thank's again Mark for hipping me to a little more Fugazi.

Peace :)

[email protected]

I just wanna kill your dog, and thank you and Guy for the interview!

[email protected] (Berny M.)

Great interview there with Guy P, Mark. The world truly needs a new Fugazi record. It'll not make the world safer to live in, but our ears and brains will thank us for getting a new Fugazi CD. Daniel, I'm with you. Lillie, the world indeed needed that leap in consciousness - seems that humans have stopped evolving. We're now going back to the reptiles. I will never be made to understand how ANY nation can bomb their way to peace.

#guy picciotto #fugazi

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remindme2breathe · 4 years ago

Text

What comes easy won’t last long, and what lasts long won’t come easy

Here we are again. The flavor of the day is bland with a twist of desperation.

I am not perfect by any means. I make mistakes and like to think I’ve been capable of owning them. I’ve always thought of myself to be fairly level headed, someone who can look at the bigger picture from everyone’s position. I have been overly accommodating to the people who surround me, I try way harder for them then I do for myself. I am guilty of being ‘a people pleaser’. I don’t know when that started really, but in my 30′s it became severely obvious, and I kinda hate myself for that.

I am walking into my 8th year of my relationship with my boyfriend... B-O-Y-F-R-I-E-N-D. Not Fiance, not husband... shit, hardly a partner. He is a BOY, and I am stuck here. Not against my will obviously, I can kick him out whenever I please, however, my life with him is a complicated one that effects too many people (there I am, people pleasing again. Buckle up folks, this happens often).

I am 7 years older then my boyfriend, let’s call him Blu (that was my dog’s name). I met Blu by accident actually. In May of 2013 my then husband and I decided we just could not work it out anymore and we split ways. We were cordial, able to remain friendly for the sake of our kids. We accepted that although we failed MARRIAGE, we will not fail Co-Parenting. He left our family home in May and by September I met Blu. There’s some chaos there but I’ll tell that tale on another occasion. Remember when I said I met Blu by accident? I was serious. I had a friend named Emma who loved drama! She came to my house and told me about a site that she found out her boyfriend was on and she wanted to see if he would flirt with me (or another fake identity she made up to be honest, she just used my information to create an account), I call that playing with fire, but you know how that can go. Anyway, she did what she needed to and got the information that she wanted. I was uninterested in those apps so I never bothered to look into it. A couple of days later someone named Blu would send me multiple messages trying to get me to talk. I decided to respond, I explained that my name wasn’t what was listed and explained the whole situation to him, he just laughed it off. I didn’t know then that he was so familiar with drama like my darling friends little stunt. Anyway, we got to talking and it was very soon when he asked if I was interested in meeting up. After all the crime shows and books I’m into it was a hard HELL NO for me. I asked him to give me a little time, I also explained my position.

He told me a lot about himself, single dad, shares custody of two very young children with his ex. He lived with his parents about 2 miles from where I was. He didn’t seem cocky or arrogant, or maybe I just didn’t see it. We exited the chats and moved on to phone texts. He would message me every morning, afternoon and night. He knew about the age difference and didn’t care. Meanwhile I felt incredibly insecure about it. After about 7 weeks I finally caved and said I would meet him somewhere public, he said his family was having a BBQ at his house for me to just come by. I thought that out and figured: who would kill or rape me with all their family there?! So I went, but I never went inside his home. I stayed by my car, we talked for hours. I remember in the end I was fitting on the trunk of my car and him on the edge of the sidewalk... maybe 1:30 am when I finally decided to head home. He didn’t try any funny business, and was completely respectful. Before I left he asked if he can take me out to eat somewhere, like an official date, I still felt a little odd but I agreed. At that dinner I told him everything, about my pending divorce, how my custody is currently working, etc.

Me and him were from different worlds entirely. There were a few occasions that really pointed the differences out. For example, he listens to REAL MEXICAN MUSIC (google CALIBRE 50) where as my Mexican music consisted of Reggeton, Salsa, Bachata. He was 100% grounded in his Mexican roots, where my mixed breed havin’ ass was raised in an American household, where dinners were served at a certain time, we ate together as a family, we attended church on Sundays, we were close. The structure of my life was typical American Family with the added components of my nationalities; Mexican and Puerto Rican. We didn’t curse around our elders, I didn’t know of drugs, or habits. That was the first shot, the second time I noticed the difference was in October when we made arrangements to carve pumpkins with his kids and mine. On that particular day his mom and sisters were home, so of course I invited them to participate. They looked at the pumpkins as though they just landed from outter space! The third time was just a couple of months after, December. While my house was decked out with Christmas trees, stockings, and nicely wrapped presents... his house had no tree, no gifts, nothing.

We have gone through a lot over the years, mostly good things (or so I thought). Have you ever laid next to someone you felt the closest to and think Gosh, I don’t even know him? Eight years later and I still think that. I use to cry myself to sleep. I still feel so incredibly alone, and more so... misunderstood. The SANE me wants to think I have a right to think this way, but he comes in and convinces me that I am the problem. Meet Blu, head of the narcissists.

He is consumed with his cars, weed and sex. He has a problem with being faithful. And I have a problem with trusting him, and every time I feel I can let my guard down, he always comes in to remind me that I can’t. Things are about to get personal, I hope you don’t mind.

The first time I found out about his ‘extra activities’ we were already living together, this was maybe a little over a year after we became official with each other. He left his phone in the living room and it was getting a ton of texts, to my luck he is also a very heavy sleeper. I opened the messages and read them (OMG WHY WOULD YOU GO THROUGH HIS MESSAGES?! FK OFF KAREN, THIS IS MY REALITY, NOT YOURS!). It was a girl asking if he was gonna go by. I messaged her back as though I was him and she went along. I ended up waking him up, my eyes red and burning from all the crying. I asked him about it and all he was able to say is WHY ARE YOU GOING THROUGH MY PHONE, turned it off and went to bed. I remember feeling low, but that didn’t stop me dumb ass from going to lay next to him and crying until I fell asleep. He ended up changing his number after a few days and said he was ‘sorry’. Those types of situations happened maybe twice a year.

In 2016 I helped him open his own business, he had no money so I put up most of it (yes, stupid, I hear ya!) with the condition that he would not be listed on any documents as an owner. He argued with me about me not making him feel like a man (people pleasing in 3, 2, 1...) So I added him to the paperwork. I felt bad for him, I never wanted him to feel like that despite what he made me feel like. On one occasion he was working late, me being scar’d for life, I called him about 12:20 am and asked if I could take him anything or if he needs something because he had been working since 2 pm. He told me he was fine, but I said OK LET ME KNOW IF YOU NEED ANYTHING. I went anyway to ‘take him food’, when I was driving up a black Honda was driving off, and there was Blu looking like he saw a ghost. I asked who that was an immediately he yelled and asked why I was there. I said that I brought him something to eat to which he said MY FRIEND JUST BROUGHT ME SOMETHING... my friend... hmmm... At about 4 a.m. I messaged and asked if he was ok and he said IM NOT COMING HOME, IM DONE! My pride didn’t allow this to just happen, I responded with OK. I locked his ATM card, Gas Card, and any credit lines. He came home (I thought he would) hootin and hollerin! I quietly took my explosion waiting for him to finish. At that point I said to just leave the work truck keys and to be on his way. He refused.

In 2018 he started recording his phone calls for work purposes (you wouldn’t believe how many people try and cheat ya to save a buck!). I had access to the recordings but never listened to them because they were of a bunch of truckers asking for stuff. One day though, I was triggered. He said he was going to go down the street to help my sister and brother in law move something. I thought it was strange because my sister told me everything! So when he left I asked her about it, she said ‘yea it was weird he offered to come help’ I then asked her to call me once he left. About 10 minutes later I got the text “HEY SORRY HE LEFT LIKE 5 MINUTES AGO BACK HOME” We lived literally five minutes away, so I waited. After about 30 minutes I decided to listen to the recordings. He called a girl asking her to meet him in the Bank Of America Parking lot about 5 minutes the opposite way, he told her he was able to leave his kids with his dad for a little while so he can go see her. My heart SANK. I felt it at the pit of my stomach. This entire douche bag drove MY CAR to see some hoe??? FOR REAL! So I texted him and said where are you? He messaged about 10 minutes later and said IM ON MY WAY HOME I JUST FINISHED AT YOUR SISTERS. I didn’t respond. When he came it we went at it. Let me clear the air: I AM NOT AN ARGUER. I don’t find it useful to scream and yell, but my emotions were shot, I was on a different level now. I dropped the bomb! I guess he didn’t see it coming because he was unable to keep up with the shit storm I was dishing out. In the middle of it, that broad had the nerve to call him. I told him to answer it and he said no. When I got ahold of his phone he had the NUTS to tell me NOT TO FK IT UP FOR HIM. Shattered. I was non-existent.

to be continued

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moderndaymiserypodcast · 4 years ago

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The Night of the Escape by Alex Kelly

“Did you hear that?” Keith turned around to face his cohorts, enabling him to fully present his mockingly shocked face.

“Man don’t do that, I’m trying to stay chill.” Jake, oversized navy hoodie slumping with his shoulders out of tired annoyance. He didn’t really hate Keith’s jokes, it was a reprieve from the eerie place they were walking around in but read the room.

“I know neither of you are actually paying attention, but there was the sound of something knocking against wood.” Victor said, matter of factly.

“Knocking against wood, eh? Doesn’t sound too bad to me” Keith smirked at Victor, expectantly, an eager dog waiting for their owner to make the slightest sign of approval. It never came. Keith rolled his eyes, turned back, and they continued into the living room. They had just entered the house, via the front door and tight entryway, but it was already clear the people who took care of this place didn’t believe in swiffers. The house’s style was as if someone collected newspapers as a job. Stacks filled the floor and gave way to dated, Victorian style furniture.

Jake held Victor's sister’s camera, panning around the floor and walls to capture the detail. This was his fifth time recording for the guys and one could say he was still getting the hang of it. He wasn’t a professional cinematographer yet so the shakiness added to the realism they were all looking for. Victor researched the facts, directed, and led them through investigations. He was the one who introduced the other two to the world of paranormal mysteries earlier in the semester and Keith was the brains -if you can call it that- who saw the potential in a YouTube series of three college friends investigating ghosts. Enough people are jumping on this bandwagon, why shouldn’t they? Victor thought it would give his research an outlet, and although he’d never admit this, getting to discover a ghost or some paranormal entity with video proof made him excited to get up in the morning. These three boys just happened to attend Fairfield together and were only a twenty-one-minute drive to the Warren Occult Museum, they’d be poor ghost hunters if they didn’t investigate this.

“I was simply mentioning that we should be alert. Jake, you’re recording, yes?” Victor looked at Jake who nodded, intent on not making any sounds.

Keith, not known for giving up the last word, replied, “Victor, we’re surrounded by a forest, inside a big old house with a shit ton of windows, and there’s a breeze. Everything is making the sound of something knocking against wood.”

The living room had an open hallway entrance in the back, it glowed red. They naturally gravitated towards it, assuming the destination. The hallway was crammed with large paintings and terrifying sketches of screaming faces and messy, haunted houses. Several reddish-orange light bulbs were attached to the upper part of the wall, an attempt to dress the place up that ended up making everything look stained with fresh blood.

Victor led the way, already in the zone, “Donna was this nursing student who got the doll from her mom as a gift-”

Keith popped in, “That’s a weird gift-”

“-anyways, it started to move around when no one looked. Donna and her roommate started finding strange notes on the ground that they couldn’t explain. When the doll’s hands had what looked like blood on them-”

“-the doll...had blood on them,” Keith said in between laughing.

Victor gave a terse look, “So they called a medium who said that the spirit of a 7-year old girl found her home in the doll, her name was Annabelle. Touched, Donna let her stay in the doll. However,” Victor turned and stared into the camera, “what some might not know, is that demons can supposedly appear as small children to seem unassuming and garner trust from mortals.”

“Mortals? Vic!”

“I’m just trying to get the info out.” Jake remained silent while the two bickered. Victor continued, “and one of Donna’s friends, Lou, had supposedly gotten scratches from the doll. They got in touch with a priest who connected them with Ed and Lorraine Warren, who confirmed the doll was being controlled by a demonic spirit, not a ghost, who was looking for a human host and had the capacity to kill.”

This time, Keith stayed quiet with Jake. Jake kept the camera on Victor as they crept slowly through the hallway.

“The Warrens noticed the doll was dangerous to drive with and brought it home to try to exercise it. The first priest to insult the doll immediately found himself in a car crash later that day, which led to a series of car collisions with people who mocked the doll.”

Keith finally spoke, “So, what I’m hearing, is that I shouldn’t make fun of Annabelle?”

Jake swung the camera back and forth from him to Victor. Vic replied, “I can’t control what you say but if you do say something I don’t agree with, we’re driving back separately. We’re about to enter the room.

The hallway spit them out into the room that they had broken in to see. They wouldn’t have broken in normally, they’re not stupid, but the place has been closed for two years and if they didn’t explore it, the place might get torn down and replaced with a parking lot in mere months. Seizing the opportunity and already getting this far, the three of them walked inside. This was the artifact room, the place that held the world’s most dangerous and historically supernatural items. A vampire coffin stood upright on one wall, right next to one of probably fifteen demonic masks that looked like they were probably made of coarse, gritty material and hair.

Victor continued to talk, which Jake was thankful for, “That right there is ‘The Shadow Doll’ that you can make attack people if you try. There’s a doll from the New England Witch Trials, and again don’t touch anything, we’re not here to disturb, only communicate. And here…here’s Annabelle. You see the box she’s kept in? The Devil tarot card was stapled to the wood by Ed Warren, he also soaked the wood in holy water cause that’s what had kept her at bay.” Victor took out a vial of holy water and gave it a brief shake to demonstrate he brought it for emergencies. “We’ll be right back.”

Jake pointed the camera towards Annabelle and Keith and Victor set up two candles on either side of the doll’s box. Annabelle was kept in an arcade-game sized wooden frame with dusty glass windows. The red light washed over everything, and that included the raggedy-ann doll with large, black, empty button eyes. It’s hair was casually tossed around its head and it sat in the middle of the wooden bottom like it was waiting to be served tea, not attempt a murder. The entire case was taller than them and it gave it an edge of intimidation, despite the doll’s small size. A devil’s trap was carved into the floorboards beneath the case and painted in thick black acrylic directly above. Lots of stone chains and sigils surrounded the case, assumedly for extra protection. They lit the candles and the room somehow gets more unnerving with two flickering lights. Victor’s face remained stone-cold with focused intent but there was an eager hopefulness in his eyes. Keith still had one eyebrow raised and arms crossed.

Victor started, “Hello. We’ve placed two candles on either side of you. If you would like to communicate, turn off the candle to your right.”

They waited.

Victor continued, “If you are upset at our presence, turn off the candle to your right.”

Flickering.

The left candle flame danced, and then the candle on the right went out.

Jake spoke, “Uh. Guys did you see that?”

Keith looked at him, “Of course we did, the wind unlit our candles because that’s how small fires work.”

Victor held up a hand to stop Keith, “I’m going to continue. We do not want to upset you, we just want to talk. Do you feel trapped here?”

The flame returned to the candle. Everyone stopped breathing.

Everything just stopped.

“Do you want to kill us?” Keith broke the silence.

Victor instantly turned on him, “What would compel you to say something like that? I know you don’t take this seriously but come on.”

“Guys,” Jake mentioned. Both the candles were out, “Should we leave?”

The candle on the right fell to the floor. Both Jake and Victor jumped. Keith would refuse that he jumped. Jake looked at Victor for their next move. He nodded in silent agreement that their time here was complete. Victor said to Keith, “Jake has to wake up early, let’s call it,” he looked at the camera, “That was our interaction, and the most recent conversation, with Annabelle.”

Quiet again, Victor deftly picked up the candles and returned them to his back. His eyes straight ahead, lost in thought. Keith resumed looking around the room at the other strange objects. Jake stopped recording. The three of them started down the hallway but halfway through, a loud sound of breaking glass stopped them all in their tracks.

Jake stuttered, “Oh my god I’m so sorry, I bumped into one of the picture frames with the camera bag, I’m so so sorry.” He dropped to the ground and began sweeping up the shards with a rag.

“Jesus, you almost had me going! That was hilarious. How long did you have that planned?” Keith asked.

“It wasn’t a prank! I’m really sorry!”

“It’s okay,” Victor said, “This place is closed so I don’t think you’ll be in trouble-”

The house creaked again. They sighed.

Victor continued, “You finish cleaning, I forgot to get a picture I wanted. Once second.” Before either could refuse, Victor was gone. Keith’s attention span had fallen to zero and Jake hurriedly swept the glass as much as he could, only receiving minor scrapes and major shame.

At least two minutes had passed, Keith was playing an app game on his phone, and Jake was ready to not be there anymore. Another two minutes. Keith and Jake made eye contact.

“Do you think-”

“-It has been a while” They started at the same time. Keith carried on, “let’s go grab our lovable ghost-nut, I want to go home and you still have class.”

They returned to the room, walking confidently but their stomachs were not quite so calm. Returning to the room wasn’t any easier than the first time for Jake, and Keith went directly to Annabelle’s case. Strangely, the side pane of glass to the case was broken and the doll, as well as Victor, were gone.

Jake’s eyes had widened to golf balls, “What the fuck-what the fuck-Keith where the fuck is Victor?!”

“Relax, Victor knows this was a useless trip and a dull episode, start recording, he’s clearly pranking us. I’m just surprised he broke the glass, that’s commitment.”

Jake was shaking his head. His heart was pounding. He turned on the camera and started panning over the scene. Footsteps on the wood behind him sounded and grew closer…”AHH!” Jake yelped in alarm as a totally fine, undisturbed Victor emerged from another doorway.

“Oh? Didn’t mean to startle you.”

Keith smiled, “Su-ure you didn’t and I’m sure this just happened randomly.”

“What do you- WHAT?!” They hadn’t heard Victor’s voice raise above indoor-level, “Where’s the doll Keith? What did you do?” “Nice try man, I’m not falling for it, ‘Oh let’s go drive to the Warren's house, the doll that inspired all those movies lives there, oh? The dolls gone? Oh my pearls!’” Keith’s mocking Victor voice wasn’t half-bad.

“This isn’t a prank, not everything is a joke. You messing with the doll and breaking property isn’t a joke either. We’re going to look for the doll and one way or another, it’ll show up. Maybe on its own, maybe you’ll suddenly find it. I have my body cam on me, I’m going to scope out the box, you two spread out to the hallway and the living room. Keep yelling out to each other to stay together.” Victor was dead serious. Also perturbed that Keith wasn’t.

“Fine! Fine, we’ll entertain this thing for you, that’s how good of a friend I am.” Keith walked away and Jake stared at Victor who gave him an intense look, and then he followed Keith.

The two now walked down the hall again.

Victor shouted, “Here.”

Jake shouted, “Here.”

Keith was playing an app game.

Victor shouted, “Keith?”

Keith tuned in, “Yes, I’m here teacher.”

They returned to the living room, Jake still recording, and scanned the room, looking under couches and tables and behind piles of newspaper.

A few minutes had passed and Jake’s camera battery was running low.

Jake shouted, “Here - guys the camera’s almost dead.”

Keith responded, “Here. I’m good to go.”

Victor didn’t respond.

They waited, still nothing.

Keith turned to Jake, “Oh man let’s go back to the room and see what our maestro of tension has cooked up next.” Jake grimaced, and the two returned to the room for a third time. They walked in, both shouting for Victor more. Keith said, “Alright Victor, you are the master of pranks, the prank master, and you got Jake really good with this, but don’t you think it’s time for us to go back to the dorms?” Still no response.

Jake rounded a corner of shelves and faced the Annabelle case. His eyes caught a shine on the ground, a watch. He was relieved for a split second when it wasn’t the doll on the ground, waiting for him, but the relief drained from his body, replaced with an overwhelming amount of dread and numbness. He stared. Victor could not stare back because his body lay lifeless on the ground, arm with watch splayed outward, perhaps trying to grab onto something for purchase before…

Keith noticed Jake unmoving and walked over, the color leaving his face immediately, “He planned this, right?” No response. “He got blood packets and he was tired of me shitting on his ghost shit and this is him getting back at me?” No response. Keith crouched down and moved Victor’s head, his eyes starkly open and tongue lolling out of his mouth. “Fuck!” Keith jumped backwards. Jake somehow mustered the courage to shakily reach down and close his eyelids. Nothing could be done about his torso, Victor’s shirt had been torn to shreds to reveal several long claw marks through his body. Blood was starting to pool wider around the floor. “We gotta go Jake, we gotta get out of here and get the police.”

“...Police?” “Yeah fucking police, someone’s in this house fucking with us and just murdered our friend.” Keith was whispering now. He grabbed Jake’s arm and the two began running out. They ran past the New England doll, they ran down the hallway, pictures still screaming at them, a few bits of glass still on the ground, they ran to the entry room and Keith reached for the doorknob. It didn’t give. “What the fuck?”

But there wasn’t time for Jake to answer, he turned around and Annabelle the doll was laying in the center of the living room, facing the ceiling. “Keith, break the door.” Jake did not give commands, but Keith listened and took a step back and kicked the door down. It took two kicks. They ran out and started running down the long driveway, surrounded by tall dead wild grass. They parked on the side of the street but they still had a ways to go. They were both running as fast as they could but the camera was heavy for Jake. He started to slow.

“No no no, Jake we can’t slow down, here give me the camera.” Jake panted heavily, a smaller frame, and figured that Keith would be alright taking on the extra load. Jake hazarded a glance behind him and sure enough the doll lay in the middle of the distance they had just run.

“Keep running.” Jake said. They ran for their life through the biting cold Connecticut night, not a breeze in the air. They finally reached the car and Keith put the camera on the hood of the car and began fishing for his car keys. It was taking longer than either of them wanted.

“Oh come on. Here!” Keith found them and unlocked the car, they were inside faster than they thought possible, camera thrown in too. They started to drive down the street fast. The car shook and then it shook again, bigger, but there were no potholes on the road. “What did Victor say about people driving away? He said something, I just didn’t pay attention!”

“He said people who mocked them usually die in a car crash once they leave the place.”

“Oh that’s perfect! Did Victor say anything about killing it? Or keeping it trapped again?”

“He...he-”

“-come on!”

“He had the vial of holy water on him, we didn’t grab it we’d have to go back.”

“Fuck that! I’m not letting a doll stop us.” He pushed his foot down harder on the pedal and the car sped down the street faster, shaking continuing.

Jake chimed in, “I’ve heard, and Victor talked about this too, burning it could work.”

“Burning it! Okay when we get to the dorms we’ll use the lighter, you still have it on you?”

“Yeah.” After a minute, the shaking stopped all at once. They continued to fly street by street, no one out here in this empty farmland.

Jake turned to look out the rear window, and he wished he just hadn’t looked, yet again. Jake had no stomach for scary nonsense, he only came with Victor and Keith cause they were his friends and looked out for him. Now Victor was gone. The doll was in the middle of the backseat, black eyes and permanent smile staring back.

“Jake? Jake you okay?”

“Uh, Annabelle is in the...backseat.”

“WHAT.” The car slightly swerved at Keith’s shock but then he maintained. “Can you throw it out the window?!”

“It’ll just keep following us home,” Jake said under his breath.

“What was that, Jake?”

“Nothing. Give me a second.” Jake unbuckled his seatbelt and climbed into the back seat.

“I don’t think that’s the best idea!” Keith yelled.

“I’m going to fix it. Just keep driving, and don’t look back.”

“Okay?!”

“Thanks.” “Are you thanking the doll?” “Thanks for making me less scared.” And with that, Jake grabbed the doll with one arm and the other opened the back-right door. He leaped out, the doll held tightly to his body, and together they flung out of the car.

“JAKE, WHAT THE HELL!” Breaking the rule, he looked backwards and saw the lump of Jake on the black top, already getting smaller in the distance with the speed of the car, and then the lump set ablaze. The fire grew and grew until it was taller than the trees. The fire wasn’t just yellow, it was a deep red like the light in the room.

Keith cannot recount how he got home that night, he doesn’t remember.

August 14, 2020, 3 AM. Annabelle escapes the Warren house. Due to sensitivity and the lone survivor’s firm request, the boy's presence there that night was taken out of the official document.

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arielmagicesi · 8 years ago

Text

f/f Blue/Adam fic

I wrote Blue and Adam’s first meeting if every character in the books was a girl. There’s some canon divergence [obviously] and there’s some thoughts that are probably kinda offensive about the LGBT community, because it’s from girl!Adam’s POV and she doesn’t know everything.

Anyway. I hope you enjoy it!

Rose was talking shit about someone at school and Noa was cracking up, while Gansey was trying to point the conversation back to Glendower work.

“I think this could be a real breakthrough,” she said, looking irritated, since Rose and Noa were still laughing uproariously.

“That’s what Carruthers said when she discovered that you can wash your face,” Rose added, and Noa doubled over again.

“This coming from you,” Noa said. “Fucking… dirt goblin.”

“Yeah, but I can get away with it, I’m hot as fuck. Right, Gansey?”

Gansey let out a long sigh. “How about we focus more on the recording I found of my own voice on the ley line, and less on the washing habits of our classmates?”

“You’re no fun.”

“At least Addy’s paying attention. Right, Addy?”

Addy had not been paying attention, actually. She was going through the Latin terms in her head again, because there was a test tomorrow, and if Rose got the top score again, she was gonna fucking lose it.

“Uh, what did you say again, Gansey?” she said, a beat too late, and Rose said, “See? Even goody-two-shoes Parrish isn’t paying attention.”

Addy rolled her eyes. She wasn’t going to start shit with Rose today. Well, not again.

Gansey was looking disappointed, which set off a slight pang in Addy’s chest. It was just so hard to constantly focus on whatever was going on. Sometimes Glendower things had to take a backseat to schoolwork, didn’t they?

“I was saying,” Gansey said, “that I found the number of a local psychic, and I think we should ask them about the voice on the ley line.”

“A psychic?” Rose said. “Are we really going to waste our time there?”

“Hey, I’ve talked to legit psychics before.”

Rose folded her arms, but Addy knew damn well that she would go along with anything Gansey said.

“I think we should go,” Noa said. “It sounds fun.”

“Well, of course you’d want to go, weirdo,” Rose said, and Noa flicked their straw wrapper at her.

Addy began to drift off again. She hadn’t gotten enough sleep last night. There’d been a late shift, and then a metric ton of homework. When did she ever get enough sleep?

The Latin vocab. Fuck. She needed to get back to…

There was that waitress again. She was new, or she’d switched to the dinner shift recently, and Addy had seen her a few times. She didn’t know why the waitress was so fascinating, except that she wore weird clothes under her Nino’s apron, and her short choppy hair was covered in glittery hair-clips. And there was something fierce about the way she looked. She was just… really pretty. Addy guessed that meant she was jealous of the waitress, if she cared about her appearance, but this wasn’t really a look she wanted for herself. If anything, Rose should have been jealous of the waitress for pulling off the “edgy-not-giving-a-fuck” look so well.

She was glaring at a couple of Aglionby girls sitting in the corner of the room- Addy didn’t know them personally but she knew they were seniors and that they were insufferable about their wealth. One of them had brought a Starbucks cup with her into Nino’s, even though Nino’s sold perfectly good coffee. The waitress made a remark about the girls to one of her coworkers, and judging by the coworker’s dirty laugh, it wasn’t a pleasant remark. Addy’s face quirked into a smile.

“Fine, Gansey, we’ll go to the psychic if you want,” Rose said loudly.

At that, the waitress’ head turned sharply in the direction of their table. Addy quickly averted her gaze- God, that was so awkward, she’d been staring at her, that was so creepy.

“Parrish, what the fuck are you looking at?” Rose said. “You’ve been unusually quiet.”

“Nothing,” Addy said, way too quickly, and Rose followed her gaze to the waitress. Her eyebrows narrowed.

“Why are you staring at that waitress? You knew her from your old shit school?”

“I swear to God, Lynch, you are such a-”

“Don’t fight!” Gansey exclaimed. “Don’t. Fight. I’m sure Addy was just looking off into the distance, Lynch, you don’t have to make a thing out of it.”

Rose scowled.

“Actually,” Addy said, “I was looking at her.”

Rose’s scowl fell.

“Oh?” Gansey said, curious.

“Yeah,” Addy said, because damn it, why was she embarrassed about looking at someone? It wasn’t like it was something weird. “Yeah, it’s just- she was looking at us when Rose just shouted at the top of her lungs about going to the psychic. I told you, I think someone’s watching us.”

“So what, you think this waitress is a spy?” Rose said.

“No, I’m just saying- I don’t know, maybe she knows something.”

It wasn’t really a lie. She had looked over suddenly when Rose had brought up the psychic. Maybe she did know something.

“That’s interesting,” Gansey said. “I should go over and ask.”

Oh God, no. “I don’t think you need to do that,” Addy said.

“If she knows something, we should find out,” Gansey said.

“I don’t think she does,” Addy said quickly. “It was just a coincidence that she looked over.”

“No, come on, Addy, stop doubting yourself. Usually your hunches are right. Maybe she knows something. I’m going to go ask.”

“Gansey, no- Gansey- OK, just don’t be rude-”

And she was gone. Once Gansey put her mind to something, it was going to happen.

“Oh, this is going to be amazing,” Rose said, leaning back in her seat. Noa leaned forward, trying to get a good look at the incoming disaster.

“I love seeing Gansey interact with service workers,” Noa said. “It’s just a beautiful catastrophe every time.”

Addy put her face in her hands, her golden-brown hair falling around her and blocking her view.

“Whyyyy,” she groaned, and sank down lower into her seat.

Rose and Noa were cracking up. Addy risked a glance upwards. The waitress did not look happy. Addy couldn’t hear what Gansey was saying, but it was bound to be condescending and awful.

“Some of us work for a living!” the waitress said, loud enough to carry to their table. Addy groaned in embarrassment again.

“Your type of girl, Parrish,” Rose said.

“I, I didn’t say you didn’t,” Gansey said loudly, with a glance around.

“Who needs TV when you have Gansey disasters to watch?” Noa commented.

The waitress looked over at Addy, who tried to give her best apologetic look, and then looked back at Gansey and put her hands on her hips.

“Please let this end,” Addy murmured, just before the waitress shouted, “I am not a prostitute!” Rose and Noa exploded into laughter.

“How is this funny?” Addy said frantically, looking back at them, and then back at Gansey and the waitress, whose conversation was coming to a rapid end.

Gansey walked dejectedly back to their table.

“She’s not very nice,” she said, sitting back down next to Noa. “I don’t think it’s nice to yell at people like that.”

“No offense, Gansey,” Noa said, “but I’m like 90% sure whatever you said merited yelling.”

“Yeah, you accused her of being a prostitute?” Rose said.

“I didn’t!” Gansey said. “I don’t know why she said that! God. Let’s just finish our pizza, pay, and leave. I hope she doesn’t have anything to do with the psychic or the ley line, because I do not want to have to see her again.”

Addy’s shoulders fell. She wanted to see the waitress again. She didn’t know why.

“What’s her name?” Addy asked.

“Why do you care?” Rose said, oddly hostile. Well, Rose was always hostile.

“I’m going to go apologize to her,” Addy said.

“Don’t bother,” Gansey said. “I told you, she’s mean.”

Addy gave Gansey a look, the look that meant Gansey, I love you, but you don’t get to decide whether the waitress you just annoyed during her shift is mean.

Gansey sighed.

“I didn’t get her name,” she said. “She told me her shift ends in 30 minutes, though.”

“Why do you need to apologize to her?” Rose said.

“Why do you need to be an asshole all the time?” Addy said. “Why does anyone do the things they do? Here’s my share of the bill, I’m gonna get some fresh air.”

She dug in her wallet for a 5-dollar bill, then headed out.

God. Sometimes they were so fucking exhausting. They were great, actually, even Rose, who was insufferable, but they were nice enough to be friends with Addy, which was a lot. They were more interesting than any other pretentious, bitchy Aglionby girl, but in the end, they still belonged at Aglionby. In the upper class. Addy didn’t.

She walked over to the bike rack outside Nino’s, leaned against it, and sighed. It had been a long day- an early shift at the warehouse, four tests, an in-class essay for English lit [why did those exist again], not to mention having to rescue Gansey’s car from the side of the road. There was something admirable and adventurous about the whole thing, four girls being tired from their search for a dead king. That would have been a very Gansey way of looking at it, romanticizing the shitty parts.

Addy wasn’t big on romanticizing.

“Hey, excuse me,” said a voice from in front of Addy. She nearly jumped, then she startled again when she saw who it was: the waitress from inside.

“Oh God,” Addy said. “Oh, I’m so sorry, miss.”

The girl snorted. “Chill, it’s OK. I was just getting something from my bike.”

“Oh,” Addy said, and stepped aside.

The girl rummaged in the oversized basket on her bike, which was decorated with various colors of metallic paint. Addy shouldn’t have stood there staring at her, but she didn’t know what to do. She still wanted to apologize about Gansey.

“I-” she began awkwardly. The waitress looked up.

“Hmm?” she said.

Addy ran a hand through her hair. It was so messy and weird, she needed a haircut.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “For my friend in there- Jane. You met her-”

The girl’s face twisted into a scowl. It didn’t make her any less pretty.

“Yeah, I met her,” she said. “Her name’s Jane? Tell Jane she’s a fucking bitch.”

“Uh, well,” Addy said, messing with her hair some more. She was definitely turning red. This was so awkward. “I mean, she’s- she tries- you know, rich girls, they kind of- are clueless.”

The girl looked at Addy, a little puzzled, then her face cracked into a smile and she laughed.

“You’re telling me,” she said. “You’re,” she gestured at Addy’s uniform, “an Aglionby girl.”

“Oh,” Addy said. “Uh, yeah. I mean, I- I’m there on scholarship. I’m from Henrietta.”

“Ohhh,” said the waitress. “That explains why you’re being polite and not treating me like dirt, then.”

“Ha, yeah,” Addy said. “I mean- no. I’m being nice to you because uh, because you deserve to have people be nice to you.” God, who said things like that?

The girl smiled.

“What’s your name?” she asked, turning around and leaving her bike basket alone. “My name’s Blue.”

Blue. That was such an odd name. A nice name.

“Nice to meet you, Blue,” Addy said. “My name’s Addy.”

“Well, nice to meet you, Addy,” Blue said. “Thanks for apologizing to me. Your friend should apologize, actually, for being rude to me, but it’s nice of you to do it anyway.”

“No problem,” Addy said. She really, really wanted to keep talking to Blue. It was like when she first met Gansey: she wanted to be friends. A lot.

“Hey, before she started telling me that I owed her my time,” Blue began, and Addy groaned.

“Sorry, she’s an idiot sometimes.”

“Yeah, no shit- but before that, she said you were interested in me.”

Addy blushed.

“I didn’t mean that in a creepy way,” she said quickly. “When I told her- like I just wanted to know-” Oh, there was no way to explain this that didn’t seem weird.

“It’s OK,” Blue said, smiling. “I guess I’m interested in you, too.”

She bit her lip and examined her nails, which were covered in strange designs, and Addy felt her heart drop.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“I mean, do you want to go on a date or something?” Blue said. “Not to Nino’s, obviously.”

The whole world stopped.

This was not something that made logical sense, but Addy wanted it.

She’d been staring at Blue for too long. She had to say something.

“Like what, a date-date?” she said, trying to play it off as a joke, because there was no way that this girl, Blue, who was funny and lightning-fiery and really pretty, wanted to go on a date with Addy. In Henrietta.

“Yeah, a date-date,” Blue said.

Addy wasn’t gay. She should have said that, that she wasn’t gay, because she wasn’t. Except that she’d never really been sure of that, and she had really liked girls before, and she liked guys but maybe she liked everything. She was that type of person, wasn’t she, who wanted everything. Maybe it wasn’t so wrong and dirty like she’d thought.

She didn’t think two girls dating was wrong. She wasn’t some Southern poverty stereotype of a homophobic bigot. She just… She thought anything she felt was wrong. Why did she feel that? Why hadn’t she questioned it more? She liked questioning; why hadn’t she questioned this?

Blue seemed to think it was OK.

Blue seemed OK. More than OK.

“Yeah,” Addy said. “Sure. What time?”

“Oh God, who knows when I’m free,” Blue said, as if it was no big deal that they were two girls arranging a date. Although she was smiling a little sheepishly, which was really cute. “I have a million jobs and my aunts always need me to do something or other. Can I call you?”

Now that Addy was doing this, she wasn’t going to screw it up.

“I’ll call you,” she said. She’d have to get Gansey’s phone or something, but she’d manage it. “What’s your number?”

“Ooh, it’s in here,” Blue said. She went back to her bike basket and pulled out a business card, which was odd, but everything about her was delightfully odd. She handed it to Addy, who was still looking at her hair and wondering what it would be like to run her hands through it. Also, her heart was going a thousand miles a minute, and she thought she was going to pass out.

“I’ve gotta get back inside,” Blue said. “My manager is probably going to wonder why I took so long to grab my water bottle.”

“Yeah,” Addy said.

Blue leaned in, and Addy’s entire mind went blank- Jesus Christ, was Blue going to kiss her? She’d daydreamed about kissing girls, but to have it happen in reality would be overwhelming.

But Blue just whispered in her ear, “Call me soon,” and then turned around and headed back into Nino’s.

Once Blue was back inside, Addy released a huge breath, and clutched her chest. She was hyperventilating. That was probably not good.

Everything was racing. It wasn’t like she’d never thought about this before- girls. It had always been a nagging little worry at the back of her mind, but she hadn’t wanted yet another reason for people to hate her, something else for her dad to scream at her in disgust. And she’d kissed Ricky Jones after school that time in the eighth grade and had enjoyed it, so she’d thought that settled it.

It didn’t stop her staring at girls and dreaming about them, but there were other things to think about it. Getting into Aglionby and getting out of Henrietta, to be specific.

Blue’s pretty face had done all the deciding for her. This was a lot to think about. She kind of didn’t want to think about it, and she kind of wanted to neglect her homework and only think about it.

First things first: she was going to find a way to get one of the others’ phones so she could call Blue, maybe tomorrow. How was she going to explain it to them? They’d probably be fine with her being- what, gay? Or what did they call it when you could like both, bisexual? They were always congratulating themselves on being progressive. Plus, Gansey was a trans girl, and weren’t gay and trans people part of the same thing, same movement or whatever? Or was Addy being offensive and clueless? At the very least, she’d always gotten kind of a lesbian vibe from Rose. Or maybe she was being offensive again.

They would be fine with it. They would totally be fine with it.

She looked down at the business card with Blue’s number on it, and her eyes widened.

Well, there was another thing to think about.

Sargent Psychic Services: 300 Fox Way, Henrietta VA

There was a lot she had to tell the others about.

#trc #bladam #blue x adam #raven girls #the raven cycle #i would put it on AO3 but that feels like so much pressure #plus i have too many fics on there i feel like people would be like 'ariel ffs!'#anyway hope you like it...

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lia-is-in-love · 8 years ago

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I want to thank the lovely @harrywavycurly for tagging me in this!

Rules: Tag 20 friends you would like to get to know better….

Nickname: Jill, Jills, Lia

Zodiac sign: Scorpio

Height: 5'4

Last thing you googled: I’m pretty sure the last thing I googled was something about how to manage/treat Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome (POTS) which I just got diagnosed with and which is doing a very good job of fucking with my life ugh :/

Favourite music artist: hmm, I have a lot of music artists that I absolutely LOVE so it’s really hard to pick just one. But if I had to pick my most favorite, I’d probably have to go with Ed Sheeran I feel the need to include this picture to show just how much I love him. Please note that I have an entire folder with numerous subfolders and literally 36 different playlists with only Ed Sheeran songs. Also, pay attention to the fact that I honest to god have 424 Ed Sheeran songs (I have pretty much every version of every song he’s ever performed, recorded, etc; so like I have studio versions, loop-pedal versions, acoustic versions, etc. (I’m a shameless youtube downloader)). Also I feel it is worth mentioning that my top listened to Ed Sheeran song is a 9 minute song that I’ve listened to 210 times (according to the iTunes playcounter, which only works about half the time when I listen to music on my phone...) which equates to 32 hours; I have legit spent 32 hours of my life listening to this one song. (Yeah, I’m a bit fucking obsessed nuts haha)

But honestly I have a bunch of favorite music artists. Like Mumford and Sons, I love them so so soooo much. And Passenger (he’s soooo fucking good, honestly he’s a fucking genius), The Lumineers (they’re also fucking amazing), The Avett Brothers, Little Mix, Kasha Rae, Lowkey, and obviously One Direction lol. Oh and Bob Dylan, I am crazy about Bob Dylan. But like those are only my top top absolute most favorites. I have so many that I love very much also. Some honorable mentions that I can’t resist adding are Bastille, Imagine Dragons, twenty one pilots, Devlin, Bear’s Den, The Head and the Heart, Rod Stewart, Cat Stevens, and Demi Lovato. Also, Christian Burrows, Sarah Simmons, and Janet Devlin all have voices that I am straight up in love with.

Song stuck in my head: Currently it’s 7 Years Old, only the version stuck in my head is not the original one, it’s a cover by Christian Burrows who is fucking awesome and you should all go check him out.

Last movie you watched: Ugh probably some kids movie because I work as a nanny and I babysit a lot. Oh it was one of the Alvin and the Chipmunks movies, and it was fucking terrible. Like honestly, it was soooo bad. I mean, I didn’t even really watch it I just sat with the kids as they watched it but I was on tumblr the whole time lol. Last movie I willingly watched though, I can’t actually remember the name of it, it’s some movie my grandma loves and wanted to watch again about an Irish girl who moves to Brooklyn in like the 1920s. Last movie I willingly watched that I can actually remember the name of: Hidden Figures. It was wonderful

What are you wearing right now: Sweat pants and a pink sweater and two pairs of socks because it’s cold lol.

What do you post: On this blog I post mostly 1D stuff, with a side of funny/amusing things, and the occasional important PSA. I also (supposedly) post fanfics that I write but I’ve been a lazy mofo lately and haven’t done that in a while

Why did you choose your URL: I chose my url because it matched my username on AO3 (LiaIsInLove) only on tumblr you can’t capitalize letters in your url and liaisinlove looks weird to me because you can’t initially tell what it says. So I put in the dashes and there you have it.

Do you have other blogs: oooh yes. Yes I do. Technically I have a shit ton of side blogs on here, but really only five others that I actually use, and I’m only regularly active on two of those. @to-dance-beneath-the-diamond-sky is my main blog. It was the first blog I made on tumblr. Oddly enough, I actually made it at some point in high school, never used or posted a single thing, and forgot that I’d ever made a tumblr until around two years ago when my friend convinced me to get a tumblr, and I went to sign up and was like wtf I already have a blog with this email?!?!?! when did I do that?!?!?! lol. Before I made this blog, I posted my normal stuff (angsty shit about mental illness and the mess that is my life) as well as my one direction stuff, but then I decided to make a specific 1D blog because none of my followers appreciated my one direction fangirling. The other blog that I actively use is @act-more-like-a-dog-sirius which is my harry potter blog. As you can tell, it’s primarily dedicated to marauders, particularly sirius black, things. Then I also have my writing blog, @lia-ivy which is purely for me to keep track of useful writing tips/resources for future reference. And I also have @with-grace--in--your-heart on which I lackadaisically post positive/inspiring quotes and shit, and also @my-religion-is-kindness which I very occasionally reblog/post inspiring stories that restore faith in humanity and that kind of shit. I also have a shit ton of other blogs but I’m not really active on any of them so :/

What did your last relationship teach you: uuughh I hope this doesn’t mean last relationship relationship because I have never had an official relationship with someone because I’m a fucking loser and A Mess™ and no one likes me. But I’ll go with the last person that I went on multiple dates with (lol my life is so sad lmao). From that I learned that you NEVER FUCKING CRY ON THE SECOND DATE!!!!!!!! If you’re getting emotional, tell them you have to go to the bathroom, and then you come out and say you’re not feeling well and then you boot. (That’s what my friend drilled into me after that Unfortunate Incident lmao) You don’t cry in front of them! EVER! Like it’s sooo bad lmao. Just, like, save the emotions and shit until you actually know them and they actually know you. Like if they want to get all deep and personal and shit, just don’t even go there. Honestly. Like, you don’t have to lie, but like don’t dredge up all your past trauma and shit. Just be casual about it. You don’t want to reveal the extent of your emotional damage and your traumatic history and shit on the Second Fucking Date. It will scare them off and it will be humiliating 100%.

Religious or spiritual: Spiritual.

Favourite colour: PINK!!!!!!!! Y’all probably could have guessed that by now though haha

Average hours of sleep: That totally depends on the day. Some days I sleep like 3-4 hours (because I’m on a medication that makes it so I can’t sleep, and I have to take another medication so I can actually sleep, only that medication knocks me the fuck out, so I can’t take it unless I know I’m going to be able to get at least 8 hours of sleep, so I don’t take it a lot and then I don’t sleep). And other nights I sleep from like 7-10 hours. But then there are lots of nights where I’ve had several days in a row of not being able to sleep or I’ll be just super drained/exhausted and I’ll just pass the fuck out and sleep like 14-17 hours for a few days in a row and then I’m back to barely sleeping. Lol I know my sleep schedule is beyond fucked up but that’s the chronic illness + mental illness life for you.

Lucky number: I don’t have one, but I do for some reason like the number 7, and the number 11. But like not strongly enough for me to consider them lucky or anything

Favourite characters: Sirius Black. I fucking love him. I love so many of the characters from HP, like Luna Lovegood, Rubeus Hagrid, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Harry James Potter himself (duhhh), but I have to say Sirius is my absolute most favorite. As for favorites in other fandoms, I love Éponine Thénardier from Les Misérables, and I love Jessi Taylor from Kyle XY, and I love Zuko from Avatar the Last Airbender. That’s probably about it. Oh and I like Katniss from the Hunger Games.

How many blankets do you sleep with: A lot. A minimum of three blankets, and two comforters/duvets. (I have really awful circulation, I’m always fucking freezing, and my house is always really cold)

Dream job: Ugh if only I knew. I really want to do something human rights related, and I’d love to be able to incorporate photography and activism, but I don’t want to be a photojournalist (the field is dying, plus you have to be fucking amazing to actually get a job, and it’s not hands on enough for me). But the fuck if I know how/where to find a job like that. Honestly though, I was talking about it the other day (with @harrywavycurly who is an absolute doll) and I’d probably be happiest working at some kind of wildlife animal sanctuary or something because I love animals soooo much and like I want to play with bears, and be friends with wolves, and cuddle with lions, and romp around with hyenas, and spend time with gorillas, and just, the bigger the animal, the more I love it and want to be friends with it lol.

I rambled a lot as I tend to do, and this was super long, sorry haha. 20 people is a lot soooo I’m just gonna tag the first people I can think of. @missy14us @harrysoreo @littlemissmeggie @muzic-niall-luva @narryrendezvous @1989rosesxx @hypegxmez @irishsunshine-n-l-l-h @narold @myneighborkelsey @louissgoldchain (only if you guys want to!)

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