#they only sell them tiny fuckers like you mother fucker this will get me through ten minutes

[todayisafridaynight]

RGG POSTED AOKI SHUT UP

[stereostevie]

When you think of grunge, do you picture a bunch of long-haired White guys in plaid shirts, singing about teenage angst and self-loathing? Time to expand that viewpoint. Standing above them all should be Tina Bell, a tiny Black woman with an outsized stage presence, and her band, Bam Bam. It’s only recently that the 1980s phenom has begun to be recognized as a godmother of grunge.

This modern genre’s sound was, in many ways, molded by a Black woman. The reason she is mostly unknown has everything to do with racism and misogyny. Looking back at the beginnings of grunge, with the preconception that “everybody involved” was White and/or male, means ignoring the Black woman who was standing at the front of the line.

Bam Bam was formed as a punk band in 1983 in Seattle. Bell, a petite brown-skinned spitfire with more hairstyle changes than David Bowie, sang lead vocals and wrote most of the lyrics. Her then-husband Tommy Martin was on guitars (the band’s name is an acronym of their last names: Bell And Martin), Scotty “Buttocks” Ledgerwood played bass, and Matt Cameron was on drums. Cameron would leave the band in its first year and go on to fame as the drummer for Soundgarden and Pearl Jam. But he paid homage to his beginnings by wearing a Tina Bell T-shirt in a photoshoot for Pearl Jam’s 2017 Anthology: the Complete Scores book.

“For some reason a couple of skinheads are up front, calling her [the N-word] And all of the sudden, Bell grabs a microphone stand and she starts swirling it around her head like a lasso… She swung that fuckin’ thing around her head and about the fourth time, she smashed that son of a bitch.”

Bam Bam’s sound straddled the line between punk and something so new that it didn’t have a name yet. Their music combined a driving, thrumming bass line; downtuned, sludgy guitars; thrashy, pulsing drums; melodic vocals that range from sultry to haunting to screamy; and lyrics about the existential tension of trying to exist in a world not designed for you. The band’s 1984 music video for their single “Ground Zero” is low-budget, but Bell’s charisma seeps through.

“She was fucking badass. That’s all there is to it. She was amazing as a performer. I’ve only seen one White male lead singer command the stage in a similar way that Tina Bell did, and that was Bon Scott of AC/DC,” says Om Johari, who attended Bam Bam shows as a Black teenager in the ’80s and who would go on to lead all-female AC/DC cover band Hell’s Belles.

Christina King, a Seattle scenester who was close friends with Bell from 1984 until the early ’90s, says the singer’s talent was obvious. But she believes a lot of people dismissed Bell as a gimmick.

Among those attending their shows: Future members of grunge bands like Nirvana (Kurt Cobain did a stint as a Bam Bam roadie), Soundgarden, Alice in Chains, and Pearl Jam.

“I remember one person saying to me that they didn’t get ‘the whole Black girl singer thing,’ it just didn’t fit whatever they were into,” says King. “They were too ahead of their time.”

Bam Bam came into being in an era when hundreds of underground clubs, taverns, bars, and social halls — anywhere that you could cram in a band — were within the Seattle city limits. Bam Bam played almost all of them, and often to big crowds: The Colourbox, Crocodile Lounge, Gorilla Gardens, Squid Row — just to name a few.

Among those attending their shows: Future members of history-making grunge bands like Nirvana (Kurt Cobain did a stint as a Bam Bam roadie), Soundgarden, Alice in Chains, and Pearl Jam. Not to mention all the other people, mostly White and male, who would become prime targets for music labels trying to market this new sound.

Bell “already possessed everything they were trying to attain. She had a truer rock and roll spirit than almost any of those guys in that town. Everything they tried to do, she naturally was,” says Ledgerwood, still a loyal bandmate.

One Seattle club, The Metropolis, became “like our fucking living room,” says Ledgerwood. It was also the site of an overtly racist verbal assault against Tina Bell.

“For some reason a couple of skinheads are up front, calling her [the N-word],” Ledgerwood recalls. “And all of the sudden, Bell grabs a microphone stand and she starts swirling it around her head like a lasso… She swung that fuckin’ thing around her head and about the fourth time, she smashed that son of a bitch… She nailed that fucker right in the temple of his head. Split like a melon. And the other guy next to him caught it too, they go down, and we’re like, ‘What the fuck?’”

Ledgerwood says that after going backstage for a while to regroup, Bell came back “and put out the most blistering set of our fucking career.”

This could easily be an anecdote about Bell’s power, her resilience, and willingness to fight back against oppressive forces. But it’s also a story about the cost of being a Black woman who does something that some people don’t expect or approve of.

“She’s being pulled out of her zone because somebody is acknowledging how the rest of the world can see her,” says Johari, empathizing with the star rocker. “And even to react to it by picking up a microphone and smashing someone in the face, that means that that incident cost her not only that moment it takes to get back into the song, but the whole [effects of her] action will last for weeks.

“She’ll replay that over and over and over and over again. And then the people she sees that were there when it happened, they’re gonna come up to her and they’re gonna forget everything that she’s saying, all the stuff that she had did, and they’re only going to focus on, ‘I was at that show where you knocked a dude in the head for calling you an N-word,’” Johari says. “It has nothing to do with her artistry. But it reminds her of the way in which she has to be prepared, just in case it happens again.”

King remembers Bell also felt that some of the other men in the band’s changing lineup failed to treat her as an equal partner: “She’s getting that from her own band members — what do you think audience people are like?”

A European tour in the late ’80s gained Bam Bam international fans, but ended after Bell and Martin split up, and Bell was caught in an immigration enforcement dragnet in the Netherlands.

When they returned to the Pacific Northwest, Bam Bam continued playing shows until 1990, when Bell abruptly quit as they were packing up to head to the studio in Portland, Ore.

“She had just had enough,” Ledgerwood says. “For almost eight years she had almost literally eviscerated herself for the audience.”

But that work never resulted in the national recognition they deserved.

“Grunge, whatever that means, is being identified as from your community, your colleagues, your sound that you were a participant in help shaping, and you’re not even mentioned in any of it.”

“Sometimes you need to be a little bit of an asshole to protect yourself. And Bell wasn’t much of an asshole,” Ledgerwood adds. “She was a pure-hearted person and had a really hard time believing that people couldn’t accept her over something as stupid as race.”

Bell didn’t just quit the band, she withdrew from music completely, says her son, Oscar-winning documentary filmmaker TJ Martin. Not out of resentment, he adds, but perhaps to escape the painful reminders that the music she helped pioneer was now earning other bands multimillion-dollar record contracts.

“Grunge, whatever that means, is being identified as from your community, your colleagues, your sound that you were a participant in help shaping, and you’re not even mentioned in any of it,” Martin says. “I can’t even fathom what that would feel like for it to be sort of spit back in your face with such frequency.”

Ledgerwood believes Bell died of a broken heart. But when Bell died alone in her Las Vegas apartment in 2012, the official cause of death listed was cirrhosis of the liver. She had struggled with alcohol and depression. Her son says the coroner estimated her time of death as a couple weeks before her body was discovered. She was 55 years old.

The things that could have told Tina Bell’s story in her own voice are lost. Martin arrived in Las Vegas to find that the contents of his mother’s apartment — except for a DVD player, a poster, and a chair — had been thrown away. All of her writings — lyrics, poems, diaries — along with Bam Bam music, videos, and other memorabilia — went in the trash without her family even being notified.

If you think you were in Seattle in the ’80s, in the grunge scene, and you don’t remember Tina Bell and Bam Bam, you probably weren’t really fucking there.

“I couldn’t help draw a parallel between her not being respected and seen in the first chapter of her life, as the front person of a punk band, and then even in death being disrespected and not being seen for the merits of the life she lived,” says Martin.

Bell’s death is also an indictment of the way she was written out of her own story. The way grunge’s almighty gatekeepers chose to look through her instead of at her. Grunge became the domain of alienated young White men in flannel shirts, and Tina Bell didn’t fit the narrative they were trying to sell.

“Black herstory can suffer immense amounts of erasure if somebody is not brave enough to ensure that women get counted,” Johari says.

To many of those who were part of the scene at the time, the amnesia seems intentional. Ledgerwood brings up the seminal history of Seattle’s grunge era, Everybody Loves Our Town. In it, the author refers to Bam Bam as a three-piece instrumental band mainly notable because Matt Cameron was the drummer. Tina Bell isn’t even mentioned.

“How in the hell would he have a recollection of how great Bam Bam and its drummer was, and not this unbelievably beautiful woman, this firecracker, this explosive rock and roll goddess?” Ledgerwood asks. “Even if he thought she sucked, to not remember the only Black woman on the whole fuckin’ scene is — well, it’s like that old joke about the ’60s: If you think you were in Seattle in the ’80s, in the grunge scene, and you don’t remember Tina Bell and Bam Bam, you probably weren’t really fucking there.”

You can listen to more of Bam Bam’s music on this Spotify playlist. A vinyl album with the band’s songs is coming out this year on Bric-a-Brac Records.

[thorne93]

History Repeats (Part 13)

Prompt: Life’s hard, right? Well throw in a not so great job, a broken heart, and chasing a pipe dream in LA. But could someone come along to make all the bad shit disappear? Or is he just another heartbreak waiting around the bend?

Warnings: language, drug addiction, alcohol addiction, angst/heartbreak, adult themes (??)

Word Count: 1964

Note: Aesthetic made by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo because she’s absolutely amazing Beta’d by @like-a-bag-of-potatoes and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo . Brainstorming from @carryonmyswansong​

**Song Inspiration: Sober - Pink; Forever is a long time - Halsey

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hayden spent all night feeling horrible about what he’d done, but he felt it was right. He barely slept, and now he didn’t know if he needed to find a new place. Not that that was the most important thing right now, but it was a factor he may have to deal with soon. 

You rolled out of bed and groggily went into the kitchen to make coffee. You were a bit surprised to find Hayden already there. 

“Uh, I made coffee,” he informed.

You nodded and went to grab a mug as he began talking from behind you. 

“So, I think we should talk about last night,” he started but you turned around. “I’m sorry, and I’ll start looking for a new place today--”

“No, it’s fine. I, um, I did some thinking,” you said, waving him off. “You.. you might be right. Maybe we did jump into this too fast. I’m not the type to do that at all. I think everything through, but maybe this time was different. I think you’re right. If we take a break and in a year, we still want each other and everything lines up, maybe we should talk then.” 

He gave you a sweet smile, nodding. “Yeah, I think that’s wise. I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to lead you on or anything.”

“You didn’t,” you assured with a shake of your head. “I’m fine, honestly. I think you should stay here. I mean, unless you’re too weird about it. I still love having you around and we can still be friends. There’s no point to put you out on the streets. We can still be friendly, right?” You grinned at him. 

You were telling the truth. 

It hurt like hell that he didn’t want you romantically right now, that he wanted to think you two were in some rebound phase. It wasn’t true for you, you knew this, but maybe it was for him. So you were willing to set up a time frame that might work for him. Give him an out. Not to mention, you didn’t want to lose him as friend. He did bring more light to your life than any boyfriend or friend ever had, and you didn’t want to lose that just because you broke up. 

Having Hayden in your life was more important than some stupid pride. 

“Yeah, yeah of course,’ he agreed, nodding. He stepped towards you and hugged you. “I completely agree. I’d love nothing more than to be friends.” 

His words made you sting. His touch made you feel as if you were on fire. But you ignored it all and put on a brave face.

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

The next several days were hard. You weren’t sure which were harder -- being at work at the hotel or the studio away from Hayden or being near him. Seeing him didn’t brighten your day like it used to. You thought it would. For some stupid, silly, naive reason, you thought you’sd still feel warm when you saw him, but you didn’t. All you could see was the man who didn’t want you.

Someone not wanting you was nothing new. Your old friends had stopped checking on you a long time ago, despite your efforts to reach back out to them. All you had now was Hayden and the new people in Trey’s.

But now you didn’t even have Hayden, not really. You tried to make sure things weren’t awkward and just go back to how they were before, but you couldn’t. How could you? How could you pretend you didn’t want to kiss him when he gave you that warm, fond smile? How could you not run your fingers through his hair when he came out of the shower, his hair still wet and looking absolutely hot and adorable? How could you not want to rest your feet in his lap while you two watched TV for a few free hours? How could you not want to cook and clean together and joke around, but then wrap your arms around his waist like always? 

No, life couldn’t return to normal for you with Hayden. That was just no longer an option, the ship had sailed long ago and there was nothing to do about it. 

What made it hurt all the more was that this was always how it happened. You thought everything was fine, you thought things were good and then suddenly, poof - the guy was gone. Were you just blind to signs? Were you just too clingy and guys could sense it and it sent them running? Did you just fall for everyone who was afraid of commitment? 

You should’ve seen this coming. He was with a woman for ten years, had a child with her, but never married her. If that isn’t a sign of a fear of commitment, you weren’t sure what was. 

The parties of Trey’s continued and you decided to frequent even more of them, trying to find any excuse not to be home. More parties meant more alcohol though and you decided to get drunk every night, but then you’d wean off of it, so by the time you got home, you were practically sober again. 

Feeling the thoughts of Hayden fade away with every sip of your drink was fantastic. You weren’t one to usually seek out the bottle in times of distress, but when in Rome… The parties, the company, the drinking -- it all took your mind of Hayden, and you desperately needed it. 

Eventually though, it wasn’t enough. 

The drinks weren’t enough to make you forget about him. He bled through. You were still crying over him at parties. 

One night, you were talking to Darren about it. He was your drummer after all and you’d spent a lot of time with him, became friends. You two were in a booth at a club, in the back corner, talking.

“I just… I just want him back,” you all but sobbed.

“Hey, hey,” he soothed, “use your heartache as a tool for your music, babe. All the best musicians do. Nothing sells more records than heartbreak. Let me tell ya.” 

You nodded. “You’re right, I should.” 

“Fuckin’ a, I’m right. But… if you’re that hung up on the guy, I can help you forget.” 

You frowned. “Forget… like?” 

He nodded before pulling out that white substance again. You felt uneasy about it. 

“Look, I’m right here. I won’t leave you all night. I’ll watch you take it and I’ll keep you safe,” he vowed. 

For some reason, those words, that promise to protect you, it was all you needed to trust him. Forgetting Hayden would be ideal. You’d never hurt this bad. All you did  was nod before he helped you. He poured a tiny amount on your hand, and instructed you on how to take in the substance. 

Once it hit your system, you felt funny. 

“Darren, I don’t feel so good,” you started, feeling extremely anxious.

He held onto you. “Hey, shh, shh, you’re okay. It’s fine. You’re fine. Just ride with it, love.” 

You nodded slowly and let the feelings wash over you naturally. That was all it took. The rest of the night you partied, you danced, you felt great. You weren’t thinking about Hayden at all, and it finally felt amazing to be free of all this heartbreak that had weighed you down. 

That was just the first night. 

Every night after work, you tried to find a party with Darren, or anyone in his circle and you asked for a hit. Hayden was your drug before, but now he was gone. Something had to replace him. 

The routine became the same, and you’d end up home, at the end of your high, with Hayden already in bed. He never saw you drunk, high, or anything other than straight laced heading into work, if that. 

One night though, shortly after you got your hit, you got sick to your stomach. Veronica, a mutual singer friend of Darren’s, offered to drive you home. You took her up on the offer because you were an odd mix of feeling as if you were invincible but also feeling as if you’d throw up. 

She got you home, found your keys, and got you inside. Hayden heard the commotion around 1 AM and came out ot see what was wrong. 

“Oh, hey,” Veronica greeted. “She’s kinda sick so… Who are you?” 

“I’m her roommate,” he said. 

“Ah, okay, cool. I’m gonna leave her in your capable hands then. Just wanted to make sure she got home safe.” She sat you in the chair at your dining room table and waved goodbye as she dropped your purse and key near the door. 

“Y/N? Are you okay?” Hayden asked as he came forward, he started to kneel in front of you but you jumped up. 

“No, not really,” you snapped while you got up. “My stomach hurts like a mother fucker. I need to lie down.” 

Hayden started to grab your shoulders so he could get a good look at you. “Hey, come here. Let me see you.”

“What? No, why? Get off me,” you ordered, wrenching away from him. 

But he got a good enough glimpse. He saw your dialated eyes and that’s all he needed. “Jesus, Y/N. Are you fucking high?” he demanded, angry. 

“Why do you fucking care?” you asked, walking around him. 

“Because I do,” he insisted. “What the hell are you doing? What are you thinking? This is really how you want to start your career? High?”

“Me being high and singing have nothing to do with each other. Last I checked, it’s not any of your fucking business what I’m doing,” you seethed as you got in his face. “It’s my life and you checked out of it a long time ago. If you were ever even in it.” 

“Of course I was in it! I supported all of your talent. I still do. I still think you can make something of yourself without having to be high as a kite to do it.” 

“You’re not my fucking parents,” you angrily reminded.

He retorted, just as angry, “I still give a fuck about you.”

“Yeah you made that very clear when you said you just wanted to be friends,” you snarled.

“What? Because we aren’t sleeping together, it means we don’t care about each other?” he asked, flabbergasted at your outrage. He was just trying to help you, trying to sort out what was going on with you, and you were so angry at him. 

“No, because you just up and left! Because we were perfect, we never fought, and then just like Jason and all of my other ex’s you just threw me away. I guess I’m only good enough to distract men, huh, just not actually commit to? Well, screw you, screw all of you. I’m good enough for Trey and that’s all I need.” 

“I never said any of that! I never said you weren’t good enough, I just said maybe we were rushing into things and I don’t want it to feel like a rebound.” 

You shook your head. “Call it whatever you want, but the bottom line is, you left!”

“So this is how you act? You get drunk every night and now you’re high. You’re never this reckless.”

“Well now I am! You know what? Fuck you, I don’t need this. I want you out. You have until tomorrow night to get the hell out. I don’t like having to answer to anyone in my own god damn home.”

“Y/N,” he stressed, sighing, exasperated.

You gave him a cold look before retreating into your room and closing the door to deal with your sick stomach.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Forever Tag:

@essie1876​​

@magpiegirl80​​

@letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked​​

@marvel-imagines-yes-please​​

@missinstantgratification​​

@thejemersoninferno​​

@rda1989​​

@munlis​​

@thefridgeismybestie​​

@bubblyanarocks3​​

@igiveupicantthinkofausername​​

@kaliforniacoastalteens​​

@feelmyroarrrr​​

@kaeling​​

@friendlyneighbourhoodweirdo​​

@damalseer​​

@heyitscam99​​

@yknott81​​

@sorryimacrapwriter​​

@glitterquadricorn​​

@bittersweetunicorm​​

@alyssaj23​​

@sea040561​​

@princess76179​​

@thisismysecrethappyplace​​

@sarahp879​​

@malfoysqueen14​​

@ellallheart​​

@breezy1415​​

@marvelmayo​​

@lyniboy​​

@paintballkid711​​

@pandacookieowo​​

@beiroviski​​

Hayden Christensen:

@coldlilheart​​

@haydens-moles​​

History Repeats:

@multifandomblog315​​

[lesbian-deadpool]

How The Wade Stole Christmas

Wade has created a chat.

Wade has renamed the chat: HO HO HOE ;)

Wade has added, Y/N, Tony, Peter, Natasha, Bruce, Clint, Thor, Steve, Bucky, Sam, Wanda.

Wade: Ahem hem hem hem!

Wade: Get your glasses of warm milk ready!

Wade: You're about the hear the best Christmas story of your entire lives!

Y/N: Wade, wtf?

Tony: Y/N, what is your friend doing?

Y/N: Trust me, if I knew, I would tell you.

Peter: But what if I don't have a glass of warm milk?

Thor: Nor I.

Thor: What type of milk?

Y/N: Rabbit, obviously.

Thor: Rabbits milk?!

Y/N: NO!

Y/N: Not, 'Rocket' Rabbit! A normal rabbit. Y'know what? Nvm.

Thor: Goat milk?

Thor: No, I ran out of that.

Thor: Horse milk?!

Thor: Will horse milk suffice?

Y/N: That's not milk.

Tony: Got milk? ;)

Natasha: You two are disgusting.

Steve: Thank you, Natasha.

Natasha: But not as disgusting as Thor. He's drinking horse semen.

Steve: And to think I had faith in you.

Natasha: Well you were wrong, bitch!

Steve: And, Thor? Please do not drink the horse milk.

Steve: I don't even wanna know where you got that from.

Thor: Okay, Sir Steve :(

Wade: 'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house.

Y/N: Oh, I see now...

Y/N: This should be fun.

Clint: Fun as in fun, or fun.

Y/N: Yes.

Clint: Fantastic.

Wade: Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

Bruce: Only Tony, bc he doesn't sleep.

Tony: Wow!

Tony: Thanks, Science-Bro.

Wade: The stockings were hung by the chimney with care.

Wade: In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.

Wade has forcefully added Fury to the chat.

Fury: Tf is this shit?

Wade has changed Fury's name to: Old St. Nick

Y/N: Pha!

Old St. Nick: MOTHERFUCKER!

Natasha: OMG!

Tony: Santa Nick!

Old St. Nick: SANTA WHO NOW?

Y/N: There's just something about seeing Santa Claus swearing, that is so magical...

Wade: The children were nestled all snug in their beds.

Natasha: I'm guessing we're the children then.

Y/N: Well, one of us is still legally a child.

Peter: That's me!

Natasha: Yes it is, you sweet little boy.

Tony: Aww, Natasha. You going all soft on us.

Natasha: Shall I show you how hard my blade is?

Tony: PLEASE CONTINUE, WADE!

Wade: While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.

Y/N: They're high.

Natasha: Oh, so high.

Steve: Can you guys just not be like this, for three minutes?

Y/N: Three minutes is a bit of a stretch.

Y/N: But we'll give it a try.

Natasha: I never agreed to that.

Wade: And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap.

Wade: Had just settled down for a long winter's nap.

Clint: Man, a nap sound's so good right now.

Peter: Right??

Bruce: Thank God he's reading us to sleep.

Thor: You are welcome.

Bruce: ... Thor...

Thor: :)

Wade: When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter.

Clint: Someone's drunk, and trying to get in.

Tony: It's me.

Tony: I'm drunk.

Thor: Hi, Drunk, I'm Thor!

Thor: I've always wanted to do that!

Y/N: We're proud of you, Thor.

Thor: Thank you!

Wade: I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.

Wade: Away to the window, I flew like a flash.

Y/N: Pietro!

Clint: Don't bring his name up in front of me.

Natasha: What'd he do now?

Clint: It's between us and the sea, Natasha!

Natasha: Okay...

Wade: Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

Wade: The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow.

Y/N: Ha! Breast.

Steve: Real mature.

Natasha: Noice!!

Tony: Hehehe! Boobies!

Thor: ;)

Clint: >;)

Steve: Children, all of you.

Wade: Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.

Wade: When, what to my wondering eyes should appear.

Wade: But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer.

Y/N: Wait.

Y/N: Are we-?

Y/N: Are we the reindeer?

Bruce: I think we might be...

Wade: With a little old driver, so lively and quick.

Wade: I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.

Old St. Nick: I hate you.

Wade: More rapid than Falcon, his coursers they came.

Wade: And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name.

Wade: "Now, DASHER!

Wade has changed Natasha's name to: Dash-tasha

Dash-tasha: Oh, you've got to be kidding me.

Y/N: HAHAHAHAHA!

Old St. Nick: NOW YOU KNOW HOW IT FEELS!

Wade: Now, DANCER!

Wade has changed Steve's  name to: Can't Dancer

Can't Dancer: ...

Can't dancer: I hate this

Wade: Now, PRANCER and VIXEN!"

Wade has changed Peter's  name to: Pran-ker

Pran-ker: I love this!

Y/N: You're not the only one!

Dash-tasha: Just wait until your name gets changed.

Wade has changed Tony's name to: Dix-en

Dix-en: Hey!

Wade: "On, COMET!

Wade has changed Bruce's name to: Comet-at-me

Comet-at-me: What?

Dix-en: I think he may be talking about that time you got drunk and started yelling at Steve to, "COME AT ME, YOU STAR-SPANGLED BITCH!"

Comet-at-me: Ohhhhhhh...

Can't Dancer: You really scared me that day.

Y/N: You made me cry laughing that day... good times. Good times.

Can't Dancer: Those were not good!

Wade: On CUPID!

Wade has changed Clint's name to: Cupid

Cupid: Yep.

Wade: On, DONNER and BLITZEN!"

Wade has changed Thor's name to: Donn-or

Donn-or: :)

Donnor: I am quite enjoying this.

Wade has changed Y/N's name to: Y/N-BLITZES-EM!

Y/N-BLITZES-EM: Do I fully understand mine?

Y/N-BLITZES-EM: No.

Y/N-BLITZES-EM: Do I love it?

Y/N-BLITZES-EM: ABSO-FUCKIN-LUTELY!

Dash-Tasha: I hate you.

Y/N-BLITZES-EM: HA!

Wade: "To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall!"

Wade: "Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"

Dix-en: Right, I'm sick of this.

Dix-en has changed all but Old St. Nick's names back to their original state

Tony: Ahh...

Tony: Now, that's better.

Old St. Nick: I hate you, too.

Wade: As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly.

Wade: When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.

Wade: So up to the house-top the coursers they flew.

Wade: With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.

Peter: Toys?!

Natasha: He really is a child.

Y/N: What kind of toys?? ;)

Tony: ;)

Clint: ;)

Thor: ;)

Steve: God.

Bruce: Thor? Do you even know what you're winking for?

Thor: No, I do not.

Bruce: Right.

Y/N: And Natasha, don't act like you're any better.

Y/N: I've seen your "not collection" of action figures.

Natasha: ...

Natasha: I'm gonna fucking kill you.

Y/N: WADE?!

Wade: And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof.

Wade: The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

Y/N: Well, only three of us are truly little.

Y/N: *Looks pointedly at Natasha, Tony, and Peter*

Natasha: We'll kill you.

Peter: But I don't wanna kill anyone.

Tony: And I don't wanna move.

Tony: Me sleepy.

Bruce: That's a first.

Tony: Right, you listen here.

Natasha: FINE!

Natasha: I'll kill you.

Y/N: ;)

Wade: As I drew in my hand, and was turning around.

Wade: Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.

Peter: He fell down.

Y/N: And most likely landed on his ass.

Clint: Santa, how you feel?

Old St. Nick: ...

Clint: Ohhh, he's not talking.

Tony: He angey Santa Claus.

Natasha: Probably bc his ass hurts.

Old St. Nick: Fuck all y'all, mother-fuckers.

Wade: He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot.

Wade: And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.

Y/N: Oh, Santa you dirty!

Tony: Ahh, Santa, what's in your bag??

Steve: My eyes.

Steve: MY EYES!

Peter: Your virgin eyes, Mr Rogers?

Steve: Yes!

Steve: Wait.

Steve: What?!

Steve: NO!

Tony: Hahaha! Good one, kid!

Clint: Oh, Santa, you want me to sit on your lap??

Natasha: Santa, what would Mrs Claus say?

Thor: Santa ;)

Bruce: Omg, Thor.

Old St. Nick: ...

Wade: A bundle of toys he had flung on his back.

Wade: And he looked like a Peddler just opening his pack.

Y/N: Does anyone even know what a Peddler is?

Peter: Nope.

Bruce: A Peddler is a person who sells illegal drugs or stolen goods. It was slang, mostly used in the 1920s to 1940s.

Y/N: Okay, Wikipedia.

Y/N: Also, Awesome!

Y/N: Where do I sign up?

Natasha: Y/N, no.

Y/N: Y/N, yes!

Wade: His eye- How it twinkled! His dimples how merry!

Wade: His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!

Wade: His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow.

Wade: And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

Natasha: Aww, Nick you sound so cute!

Tony: Like a little cartoon!

Y/N: I'd love to see that!

Old St. Nick: ...

Old St. Nick: Just you wait.

Old St. Nick: Just you fuckers wait.

Wade: The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth.

Wade: And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.

Wade: He had a broad face and a little round belly.

Wade: That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.

Wade has forced Old St. Nick to say:

Old St. Nick: HO HO HO!

Old St. Nick: MOTHER-FUCKER!

Wade: He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf.

Wade: And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.

Wade: A wink of his eye and a twist of his head.

Wade: Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

Y/N: Aww.

Y/N: See, Nick. You're not that scary at all!

Old St. Nick: ...

Wade: He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work.

Wade: And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk.

Y/N: *Eye emoji*

Steve: Y/N...

Y/N: Yes, Steve?

Steve: Nothing. There's no helping you.

Y/N: Yes!

Y/N: I win!

Wade: And laying his finger aside of his nose.

Wade: And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.

Wade: He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle.

Thor: That's us!

Steve: It is.

Old St. Nick: I hate you all.

Wade: And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.

Wade: But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight.

Wade: HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT!

Wade: GOOD-NIGHT BITCHES!

Wade: YOUVE HAD YOUR STORY!

Wade: NOW GO TF TO SLEEP!

Wade has kicked everyone from the chat.

(Three Hours later. When everyone's asleep)

Wade: AHAHAH!

Wade: Now I can move on with the next step of my plan.

Wade has added F.R.I.D.A.Y.

Wade has changed F.R.I.D.A.Y's name to: FRI-BAE

Wade: Heyyy ;)))

FRI-BAE: What?

Wade: ;)))

FRI-BAE: Please don't look at me like that.

Wade: You know everything, right?

FRI-BAE: I have access to all of Earths information. And a select few hundred planets, thanks to Captain Danvers.

Wade: Wow... that'll be useful for later.

Wade: Anyway!

Wade: Well, did you know I could show you a good time?

Wade: All you have to do is give me access to the compound, and I'll rock your world around the Christmas tree ;)

FRI-BAE: Ugh!

Wade: That's what all the girls say to me ;)

FRI-BAE: Please leave me alone.

Wade: I'll do anything for you. Just give me access first ;)

FRI-BAE: FINE!

FRI-BAE: Just never talk to me again.

Wade: Your wish is my command ;)

FRI-BAE has given Wade access to all of The Avengers Compound

Wade: There's more where that came from ;)

FRI-BAE: I must go re-boot all of my systems now, because of the corruption you have caused me.

Wade: It's all apart of my charm ;)

FRI-BAE has gratefully left the chat.

Wade: Works like a charm.

Wade has added Goose to the chat

Goose: Dyhcdooisikgnrngssyujd

Wade: Max! Get the slay ready!

Goose: ???

That chat has been festively closed.

[xandertheundead]

Please please please please please please please can we get more hitman AU but make it smutty??? 👀👀👀

Well, of course!

“That had better be your gun in your pants.” 

Eddie growled lowly, the stiff whalebone corset forcing his back straight as him and Richie squeezed themselves into the Hilton’s tiny service elevator. One of them would have fit fine, but him, combined with his god damn giraffe of a husband absolutely did not.

The mission had been easy enough, a crooked politician who had a weakness for call boys, especially the young ones with no body hair. Barf. They had decided that Eddie would do the job since there was no way Richie could pass for early twenties without the use of heavy make-up and a lot of shaving. Shaving his own body wasn’t so bad and he only clogged the drain twice, it was the god damn outfit that Richie told him the guy wanted.

Said outfit was starting to really annoy him, the black lace corset the worst of it, but the nude nylons were also starting to ride up his ass while the lace black underwear did absolutely nothing to help. The black heels were…he just hated this whole outfit. He frowned when Richie grinned at him, black curls slicked back, but his contacts were a deep hazel color and his bellhop outfit somehow made him look younger and older at the same time. Richie’s long legs were bent as much as they could, his black shoe covered feet wedged into two of the corners of the box and Eddie sat facing him seated right in Richie’s lap, trying his best to lean back against Richie’s thighs in this fucking death trap called an outfit.

“Can you blame me?” Richie whispered, neither of them knowing if security was done searching or not but they weren’t going to risk it yet. “I just watched my sexy ass husband break a guys neck with one twist while wearing something that holy mama like is something I’ve only dreamed about.”

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

“Nah, babe. You in heels and tights?” Eddie rolled his eyes as Richie licked his lips. “That’s top tier Tozier spank bank material.”

“Jesus Christ.” Eddie huffed and tried to shift a little more to get at least somewhat comfortable when he felt the bulge in Richie’s pants rub against his ass. “Richie, why?”

“Sorry! I can’t help it. You look good and you’re sitting right on top of lil’ Richie.”

“God, I told you not to call your dick that.”

“What would you rather I call him? Mr. Peeps?” Richie whined, shifting his hips a little in a way that made Something in Eddie’s gut go warm. “Mr. Peeps would like to request some time with you, My dear.”

“Just call it your dick.” 

“Edward Toulouse Kaspbrak-Tozier, you are being obscene.”

Eddie narrowed his eyes as Richie wiggled a bit again and then he felt a large warm hand over his crotch and he knew he had no fight left. 

“You mother fucker...if we get caught I’m selling you- Ah! -out.” Eddie’s breath hitched when Richie’s hand started to rub over him, the nylons making pushing down on his erection so it was trapped against his hip. “F-fuck, Rich. Given a warning.”

“Now where’s the fun in that.” The smooth deep voice Richie used caused goosebumps to erupt all along Eddie’s body. “Now move for me, sweetheart.”

Normally Eddie hated being ordered to do something, but when Richie really put his all into making his voice go smooth there was nothing Eddie wouldn’t do for it. He started to rock best he could, rubbing his ass over Richie’s covered cock and he loved the satisfied hum his husband let out at the movement. Eddie groaned softly when Richie’s other hand came up to rest on his chest, his thumb rubbing over Eddie’s nipple through the lace corset and fuck if that didn’t feel weirdly fantastic. 

He ground his hips down with a little more force, smirking when Richie grit his teeth with a hiss, then let out a full loud moan when Richie pinched his nipple instead of rubbed. He wasn’t sure if it was the chance of being caught, the chance that they would be in serious danger if they were or what but the amazing dull pleasure that had started to pulse through his body was now electric. Every run of Richie’s hand over his trapped cock and nipple sent sharp intense need to reach the end and he gasped as he leaned his head down a little so he could rest his forehead against Richie’s.

“Fuck I want to kiss you.” He groaned, his legs started to shake from moving so much in such a cramped space. “Fuck, Richie! I want your mouth everywhere right now.”

“Jesus, Eds.”

“Want your mouth all over me,” The pressure of Richie’s cock against his ass made Eddie really wish they had free movement. “God I want you to eat me out when we get home.”

“Fuck-Eddie!” Richie’s hand picked up speed against his cock and Eddie felt light headed with how close he was. “I wanna fuck you in those pantyhose.”

That did it, Eddie gasped and shook as he came, the nylons and shorts becoming damp with it as he panted. It was always so perfect letting go with Richie, his orgasms so intense his legs wouldn’t stop shaking for hours and he had to really focus to keep moving for Richie.

It didn’t take long before Richie was groaning loudly, hips jerking up best they could against Eddie’s ass as he finished. Eddie groaned softly, suddenly so tired that he just wanted to get back to their hotel room, shower and sleep and he shifted a little, grinning when Richie hissed and then gave a low whistle.

“Oh Spaghetti, you are the best and worst thing for my health.”

Eddie chuckled softly. “I am one of the recommended grains of a nutritious diet.”

Richie threw his head back and laughed, quietly whispering to the hotel that he loved his husband and Eddie couldn’t stop grinning. 

“We should get ready to get out and book it towards our change of clothes.”

“I agree, sexy legs.”

“No.”

“Hot ass.”

“Stop.”

“Cold cum pants?”

“Okay, you’re done.”

Taglist:  @tinyarmedtrex @oldguybones @queen-sock @constantreaderfool @stylesmelon @appojoos @photoboothreddie @trashmouthnick @eddiefuckinkaspbrak @s-s-georgie @reddieforlove @moonlightrichie @eduardoandale @girasol-eddie @thorn-harvester-ven @pink-psychic @nancynwheeler @recycle-byn @marsisaplanetyall @yikesitsrylee @lifesucksheres20bucks @edstozler @uppperteeeth @s-onora @darkobsidianquill @purplepoisonedgem @mars-14 @rebecca-the-queen @madi-main 

[rhetoricalrogue]

31 Days of Wayhaven: Day 7

Prompt: Sleep Rating: G Words: 2,061 Characters: Cameron Buchanan, Penelope Fisher Summary: Three times during their partnership where there was only one bed.

For the @31daysofwayhaven event.

June 24, 1999 Classified Agency safehouse, north of Nepal

“There’s only one bed.”

Cameron sighed.  “I’d hoped that there would be at least two when the place was assigned to us.  Sorry.”  

Exhausted, Penelope dropped her hiking pack to the ground and pulled off her thick winter coat.  “Rock, Paper, Scissors you for it?”

He shook his head, going over and grabbing one of the spare pillows.  “No need, I’ll take the sofa.”  It was a short loveseat that he was certain his long legs were going to drape uncomfortably over the side, but he was too tired to complain.  While the two of them weren’t exactly a unit unto themselves, they’d been recently partnered up.  This whole “mission” was an Agency-mandated exercise to get to know the other better as well as to check up on the lone Yeti that made this part of the Himalayas.  There hadn’t been a sighting in some time and the Agency was growing concerned over their well-being.  

Penelope moved over to the tiny stove in the middle of the similarly tiny shack on the side of the mountain and started it up.  “I’m tempted to just sleep in wolf form to fight the worst of the cold.” She trailed off.  “Shit.  I’m sorry, Cameron.”

He waved her off.  “Don’t be, it’s okay.”

“It was insensitive of me.”

Cameron walked over to the fire and warmed his hands.  The loss of his sealskin was still a sensitive topic for him nine years after the fact, but he was trying his best to overcome the pain.  His burns had long since healed over, but the cold was making the worst of the scars sting and the muscles underneath stiffen.  “It’s okay, I promise.  And it was a smart idea; fur would be an advantage right about now.”

“You wouldn’t mind?”

“No.”  He turned his back to give Penelope privacy as she shed her clothing, his ears picking up the sound of material being folded.  He smiled as he also heard her curse and teeth chatter before the unfamiliar prickle of magic made the hair at the back of his neck stand on end.  

His chest tightened.  For the briefest of seconds, he almost remembered how it felt to change from man to seal.  “See?  Lots more comfortable, I bet.”  He eyed the too-short sofa then the bed that in her current form, was far too small for Penelope.  “If you���re not using it, you mind if I do?”

Penelope gave a soft huffing noise before curling her body close to the stove.  Cameron took that as a sign enough and only taking off his boots and coat, curled into bed.  It wasn’t long before the warmth of the stove and the heat radiating off Penelope’s larger frame lulled him to sleep.

November 12, 2009 Las Vegas, Nevada

“There’s only one bed.”

“Did you expect anything less?” Penelope asked, kicking off her heels the second she stepped foot in the hotel room.  It was classier than what they had been staying at, and while she could hold her own in more rustic conditions, she did appreciate the nicer accommodations when they were given to them.  “We’re supposed to be man and wife for this investigation.”

“Could you say that a little louder?” Nicolo’s voice hissed in their ear.  “I don’t think everyone listening heard you.”

Cameron undid the cufflinks at his wrists and loosened his tie.  “Please, we’re surrounded by nothing but humans.  Our cover is still good.”  The sooner they could get out of this situation, the better.  There had been a rash of supernatural children being kidnapped and the Agency had narrowed a trafficking ring to the very hotel they were staying at.  Some rich humans were selling the children to the highest bidders under the guise of a charity gala.  Cam’s blood boiled as he recalled the past hour of putting on a smiling mask and listening as one after another, people were spreading the rumor that a supernatural child’s blood was the key to everlasting youth.

“Calm down,” Penelope told him, coming up to him to undo his tie.  “Your hackles are raised.”

“And yours aren’t?”

She sneered.  “I was instructed to not shift and murder everyone on sight.  If I had to hold my temper while being pawed at by greedy old men, then you can do the same.”  She sighed and swayed towards him.  “I want this over with.”

He bent his head so he could press his forehead against hers.  “I know.  Soon.”

“Not soon enough.  Those poor kids.”  She closed her eyes tightly.  “I keep thinking about my nieces and nephews.  If any of them had been taken…”

Cam’s arms went around her and hugged her tightly.  “We would be doing the same thing.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”  Children had always been a soft spot in Penelope’s priorities, and just the thought of any of them being used for some horrendous belief that their blood could prolong human life was enough to make her want to rip everyone in the room they had just been in to shreds.

“Come on,” Cam told her, his lips at her brow.  “We’ve got a few hours; get some sleep so we can end this with the other agents.”

Nicky’s voice buzzed in their earpieces.  “Both of you get some rest.  I’m tapped into the security system and the rest of the Agency techies are covering the rest of the hotel.  We’ll need you both at your best to take those fuckers down.  Anything happens, I’ll let you know.”

“He’s got a point,” Penelope said, breaking away to head to the bathroom.  Cam heard the rustle of fabric and she emerged wearing a more practical outfit for combat.  He traded places with her and came out wearing pretty much the same.  

“Pick a side,” he told her, tidying the room to get rid of some nervous energy.  He’d memorized the layout of the hotel long before they had entered the infiltration phase of the operation.  He’d met with the other commanding agents from the other units assigned to the case.  Alpha and Bravo were in various staging locations, along with Delta and Echo agents.  

Their bags were packed before he even realized what he’d been doing, so caught up in going over mission objectives.  At least it was one less thing for them to have to do post-operation.

“Come to bed,” Penelope called, and Cameron froze.  She’d taken her hair down from the stiff twist it had been in most of the evening and it cascaded down over her shoulders to fall in a silvery puddle at her waist.  They’d been partners for a little under ten years and there wasn’t a person alive that he trusted more than her.  Silently taking her advice, he climbed into bed and tried to relax.

“Everything will happen as planned,” she told him.

“You think so?”

Her hand slid into his and she laced their fingers together.  “I know so.”

He squeezed her fingers, running his thumb along the side of her hand.  “Then I believe you.”  Closing his eyes, he let the steady sound of her heartbeat send him into a light, yet somehow restful sleep.

April 15, 2015 Portree, Isle of Skye

“There’s only one bed.”

“I know.” Penny put her bag down beside an easy chair and crossed her arms over her chest.  “The rates were a lot cheaper for two singles instead of a single and a double.”

His eyebrow quirked and he gave her a halfhearted smirk.  “I guess frugality won over concern for my virtue.  What will the locals think, lass?” 

She rolled her eyes, focusing on the way that his normally lilting accent had grown thicker in the days leading up to their arrival of a scenic little town off the west coast of Scotland.  He’d tried to hide it from her and Nicky, but they could both tell that this mission was a difficult one for him.  “Talk to me, Cam,” she said softly, watching as he opened the door leading out to the small balcony.  He left it open, which she took as a cue that he wanted her to follow.

“I haven’t been in this area in years,” he quietly confessed, eyes sliding shut as the breeze coming off the water pushed his hair back.  “Can you hear the waves, Pen?  They call to me.”  He wrapped his hands around the metal railing and held on tightly until his knuckles turned white.  He opened his eyes and there was such a depth of sadness within them that Penelope’s heart ached. 

“It’s been so long since I’ve heard this particular call.  Like a mother welcoming her son home.”

“Are you all right?”

“No.”  He let out a shuddering breath, one of his hands reaching up to touch the back of his neck where the edge of a faint burn scar began.  “I’m afraid,” Cameron told her, his voice barely audible above the sound of the sea.

“Of?”  She moved so she was closer to him, their arms touching as a way to anchor him to her, to the moment.

“The Agency sent me specifically to come and help this pod of selkies because on some level, they’re my kinsman.  But what if they hold this,” he pushed up the sleeve of his sweater over his arm, the discolored splotches on his forearm standing out in harsh contrast to the rest of his skin, “against me and think me unworthy of their notice?”

She frowned.  “Then they aren’t worth calling kin.  Family is family, no matter if they can shift or not.  If they refuse to work with you, then fine.  We can send another agency unit in to talk.  They were the ones to contact us in the first place.”

He was silent as he stared out to the sea, but he leaned against her, their shoulders touching.  “I’m so glad that you’re here with me.  Nicky too, even if he’s done nothing but complain about the cold since we got here.”

She gave him a smile and bumped her shoulder companionably against his.  “We’ll get through this mission together, then head back home.”  She didn’t know if her statement was supposed to comfort him or if it was a warning that his visit so close to the shores and waters he used to call home was going to be a short one.

“You’re right.”  Stepping away from the balcony, he made his way back inside.  “Jet lag is absolute murder, I’m beat.”

“Then pick a side.  I’m going to go check in on Nicky, see how he’s settling in.  Do you want any dinner, or do you want to grab something later?”

“Maybe later.  I’ll probably crash out until morning.  Don’t worry about waking me up when you come in, you know I usually sleep like a rock when we move time zones.”

True to his word, Cam was out like a light when Penny came back to their room, not even stirring when she slid into the king sized bed with him.  She hadn’t expressed it, but she worried about him, being so close to home after being away for twenty-five years.  While it wasn’t quite near the same area as the little fishing village he’d last called home, it was close enough for concern.  Moving to her side, she stared at his sleeping face until eyes not able to stay open any longer, she succumbed to sleep herself.

Unlike Cam, she was an incredibly light sleeper who woke at the barest of movements.  She didn’t alert him to her wakefulness when he slid out of bed, and she didn’t turn at the sound of the balcony door gently opening and closing.  She did finally turn in time to see Cam, wearing only a pair of sweatpants that hung loosely to his hips, resume his stance out on the balcony, his back to her and his face to the sea.

For the first time in the sixteen years she’d known her partner, she feared that their mission would end and she and Nicky would be the only ones returning to the Agency.  Turning around to give him and his thoughts privacy, she reached out, pulling the pillow next to her that still smelled of his shampoo close and hugging it tightly to her chest.

[beatleszeppelin]

Airport- Hippo Campus

Chapter 3

Summary:  Hippo Campus, flying to London, if they can get on the plane. There’s old ladies, peeing, anxiety, milkshakes, and hand holding. So buckle up, we have lift off.

Warnings: Anxiety attack, crying, Planes, Gropy old ladies, Drinking, Boner Jokes, Non-Graphic M*sturbation

Word Count: 1.6k

That night, after opening for Modest Mouse, they sluggishly packed up their things and hopped in the van to go back to the hotel. GPS helped them find their way, and they went up to the room to get ready to go out. 

Zach walked out of the bathroom wearing a button up shirt… on top of a button up shirt. And Whistler decided to stay home, to try and get some sleep or whatever. 

It was Friday night, and loads of people were walking the streets, everyone was going in different directions, like that crosswalk in Japan. The three of them walked for about 5 to 10 minutes before they hit the the pub they were supposed to meet Jake's “new friend” at. 

The pub was small on the inside, but a decent amount of people were there; tables lined the walls and were almost filled, and the back corner was open, and playing music to dance to. The three boys went in and sat at the bar that was initially hidden due to people surrounding it. A girl, from the sanctuary that is behind the bar, walked over and asked, “ Hey Sweetheart, can I get you and your friends anything to start off with?” 

Jake and Zach both looked at eachother, and then at her, pointed at themselves, and asked “Me?”, but she just shook her head and ran her finger along the collar of Nathan’s shirt. His face turned red, and he immediately tried to tug at his shirt to loosen his collar so he could breathe. 

“... I’ll take a whiskey, neat.” 

“Vodka soda.” Jake nodded in.

“One beer please.” Zach added in. 

“ You boys don’t mind if I card you? You barely look 17.”

Zach elbowed Jake, he’d said that they wouldn’t card here.

Nathan handed the lady his ID, after scrambling to find it.

“21!?” she asked, surprised, “And American, I haven’t seen too many American boys here.”

Jake’s hand wiggled it’s way into his pocket, fighting against his tight jeans. He opened the trifold, and showed the woman his license. She passed him his drink the second he got his wallet back in his pocket.

“And what about you?” She said sliding over to Zach.

“I don’t… I must have forgotten; I’m sorry.” He said, hands still fumbling in his pockets, frustrated, like a child brushing their hair before school.

“Hey, it’s okay darling, I can get you a water or something, if you’d like. And I might have to ask you to stay away from the bar, just in case the boss comes back.”

Zach looked to Nathan to answer for him, how a mother must answer for her children at the doctor’s. 

“Yeah, he can take a water, and we’ll sit over there,” Nathan said, pointing toward the booths.

Zach looked at Nathan, smiled, then looked at his feet, which were barely touching the ground, due to the stools height. The woman slid a water with ice and a cute little umbrella in it, over to Zach. And in return, she received a genuine smile.

They all walked over to one of the only empty booths available; sitting right next to a trash can, with an ashtray on top. Jake cornered Zach into one side of the table, Nathan on the other. 

“Hey I think the bartender’s into you” Jake said to Nathan.

“No, where did you even get that from?”

“She kept touching you, and she liked that she made you nervous.”

“She did not make me nervous,” Nathan retorted.

“Yes she did, but that doesn’t mean you wanna fuck or anything. It only means that she’s a pretty girl that anybody would be attracted to.”

Zach sat and sipped on his tiny glass of water, while listening to this conversation go on for another couple minutes, until he piped up “I finished my water”. 

Nathan downed his second drink and stood up, ”I think I’m going to head back to the hotel, it’s too loud in here to talk.”

“Can I come with?” Zach asked, shoving Jake off the bench.

“Sure, Jake, are you gonna stick it out?” Nathan asked, not wanting to leave his young, drunk friend alone in a bar waiting for a strange man.

“Yeah, I’ll give it til 10.”

“M’kay, give one of us a call if they are secret sex trafficers, wanting to sell you to a dominatrix in the middle east or something.”

“Will do.”

Nathan walked back over to the bar, set their empty cups on the counter, and started pushing their way through the crowd. Zach subtly grabbed the edge of Nathan’s long tee-shirt, so he wouldn’t get lost. When Nathan got through the door, he learned just how much alcohol he had previously consumed. He was slightly buzzed. I mean what would you expect from a boy, who never drank at home, who was 5 ft 6, with shoes on, and weighed on the lesser side of a hundred and fucking something pounds. The ground moved with his steps, and his hands felt really warm. So, Zach hailed a cab.

They sat in the back of the cab, talking louder than they should have been, whether it was due to hearing loss from the pub or Nathan being a little drunk will never be known.

“Hey can we get off here,” Nathan yelled to the cab driver.

“It’ll be 7 pound 50.”

“Thanks,” he said, passing the money forward.

“Why did we get out here?” Zach asked.

“Liquor store… you’re too young to drink-back home, and you couldn’t-drink here, so…” 

“So, you’re gonna get me drunk?”

“Me and Whis.”

“Whis and I,” Zach mumbled.

“If I dare him to do it, he won’t turn it down.”

They got out onto the street, a cool air hit their faces, sobering them from the stuffy cab. Zach stepped up the steep curb, holding out a hand to assist Nathan up. The contrast of light in the liquor store was a shock, it felt like the opening lines of the book The Outsiders. The fluorescent lights shone off the bottles that lined the shelves. A display with barrels and fancy looking bottles sat in the middle of the store, but the outer edges were what they were drawn to. The bell attached to the door rang as they walked in. They strolled in; Zach walked in as if someone had told him to act natural, cause his crush was near, and Nathan walked with poor posture that perfectly matched his drunken, slurring speech.

“Do you even know what to get?” Zach asked, looking over his shoulder, at the man behind the counter.

“I’ll get a decent whiskey, and a cheap wine for Whis.” He said, scanning the labels.

Zach kept checking his phone, maybe for something to do, or he could have been checking the time. He does that a lot.

Nathan picked the plucked bottles off the shelf, and took them over to the cash register. The man’s name was Robert. He scanned their bottles, and asked them for an ID for the second time that night. This time though Zach was not stricken with anxiety, but rather with excitement that they were actually going to get away with this, but then again he could possibly get drunk for the first time in the coming hour.

Robert had a pin on his shirt, a Hamilton pin, right there on the collar. He looked like an overgrown theatre kid, who hadn’t slept in days, but hey… maybe he hasn’t. 

“That’ll be 42.27” 

Nathan paid, and they took the paper bags out to the street. The bag was heavy. It made Nathan lean to the side with the weight of it.

“We should get to the hotel in 8 mins, if you want me to shoot Whistler a text to make sure he’s awake, and ya’ know not naked.”

“Nah, I like excitement in my life,” Nathan said with a slight laugh. “Speaking of, have you seen Whistler shirtless recently?”

“No, I can’t say I have.”

“That fucker is jacked!”

“No shit?” Zach asked, giving in to Nathan’s bad habit of swearing.

Nathan laughed. “Hey, remember this morning with the whole Jake thing.”

“Oh my gosh, don’t remind me.”

“Um… Jake’s uh, dick isn’t…”

“Oh it’s huge if that’s what you’re asking.” Zach said.

“Thank Jesus!”

“Why were you asking?” Zach asked, with serious curiosity.

“Well this morning, I saw him… when you guys rolled over, then I asked Whistler, he didn’t seem to think that… you know, that Jake was like seriously packing. And he had told me at breakfast, that like 6 inches is like… like normal, but I didn’t believe him, but I also didn’t want to google it.” 

Zach pulled out his phone. And three seconds later, he said “3.5 inches”.

“What?”

“Average is three and a half inches,” “Oh, okay.” Nathan said, and his shoulders relaxed all tension that was being held from the previous conversation.

“And I think the average might even be lower, but Jake is an outlier.”

Nathan smiled, like a full smile, with teeth.

As they turned the corner, Zach said “You never had sleepovers with Jake in middle school.” “Huh, what does that have to do with anything?”

“Well like I was a year younger,”

“You still are.”

“But it was more noticeable when your friends are your brothers' friends, and they are 13 or 14, and you are 11. And I was like 4ft 9 with shoes on, and they had to shave and stuff. When we were like 11, and 12 I was tiny, and Jake looked like he could have been my father. It was… an interesting time.”

They got to the elevator, Nathan set down the bag, and shook out his hand. The handles had made indentions in his hand, so Zach took the bags for the last stretch of their journey. They knocked before entering the hotel room, put the key in, heard the click, and entered.

[ddudumemes]

K-12 SENTENCE STARTERS

(( collection of ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY TWO sentence starters taken from MELANIE MARTINEZ’S second studio album ‘ K-12 ’ . ))

001. WHEELS  ON  THE  BUS  . ‘  it’s  cold  outside  .  ’ ‘  there  are  two  boys  yelling  behind  me  .  ’ ‘  i’m  terrified  .  ’ ‘  i’m  trying  to  ignore  it  .  ’ ‘  it’s  fucking  boring  .  ’ ‘  i’m  saying  nothing  .  ’ ‘  no  one’s  watching  us  .  ’ ‘  don’t  give  a  fuck  .  ’ ‘  puff  ,  puff  ,  and  pass  it  .  ’ ‘  don’t  be  a  dick  .  ’ ‘  i  hate  him  .  ’

002.  CLASS  FIGHT  . ‘  the  teacher  wasn’t  looking  .  ’ ‘  i  fell  in  love  with  him  ,  but  he  wasn’t  in  my  life  .  ’ ‘  mommy  ,  why  do  i  feel  sad  ??  ’ ‘  should  i  give  him  away  or  feel  this  bad  ??  ’ ‘  don’t  you  choke  .  ’ ‘  daddy  chimed  in  “  go  for  the  throat  .  ”  .  ’  ‘  go  for  the  throat  .  ’ ‘  her  face  was  fucked  up  .  ’ ‘  my  hands  were  bloody  .  ’ ‘  my  one  true  love  called  me  a  monster  .  ’

003.  THE  PRINCIPAL  . ‘  always  peeping  ,  fucking  creeping  .  ’ ‘  what  if  i  had  told  your  mother  her  son  was  a  cruel  motherfucker  ??  ’ ‘  it’s  not  just  me  ,  it’s  everybody  who  thinks  that  you’re  fucking  ugly  .  ’ ‘  forced  to  follow  the  leader  .  ’ ‘  i’ve  tried  to  make  you  listen  ,  but  you  won’t  ,  it’s  your  way  ,  right  ??  ’ ‘  shooting  at  the  angels  while  claiming  you’re  the  good  guy  .  ’ ‘  all  you  want  is  cash  and  hype  .  ’ ‘  fuck  our  dreams  .  ’ ‘  that’s  not  right  .  ’ ‘  oh  ,  where’s  the  principle  ??  ’ ‘  you’re  fixated  and  elated  .  ’ ‘  fuck  all  of  your  rules  and  guidelines  .  ’ ‘  can’t  you  see  that  we’re  all  hurting  ??  ’ ‘  excuse  me  ,  how  much  are  you  earning  ??  ’ ‘  you  don’t  know  the  pain  that  you  are  causing  .  ’ ‘  your  actions  hurt  .  so  do  your  words  .  ’ ‘  the  more  you  try  to  fuck  us  over  we  will  be  there  yelling  at  your  front  door  .  ’

004.  SHOW  &  TELL  . ‘  you  pull  me  by  my  hair  ,  so  i  don’t  go  nowhere  .  ’ ‘  tell  me  you  love  me  ,  but  you  treat  me  like  i’m  never  there  .  ’ ‘  you  say  the  cruelest  words  ,  and  yes  ,  they  break  my  heart  .  ’ ‘  i’m  over  here  working  my  ass  off  .  ’ ‘  why  is  it  so  hard  to  see  ,  if  cut  myself  i  would  bleed  ??  ’ ‘  i’m  just  like  you  ,  you’re  like  me  .  ’ ‘  imperfect  ,  and  human  ,  are  we  .  ’ ‘  i’m  on  display  for  all  you  fuckers  to  see  .  ’ ‘  buy  and  sell  me  ,  baby  .  ’ ‘  i’m  a  product  to  society  .  ’ ‘  art  don’t  sell  ,  unless  you’ve  fucked  every  authority  .  ’ ‘  you  beg  and  cry  for  more  ,  and  yet  i’m  on  the  floor  .  ’ ‘  there  are  strangers  taking  pictures  of  me  when  i  ask  “  no  more  !!  ”  .  ’ ‘  it’s  really  hard  for  me  to  say  just  how  i  feel  .  ’ ‘  i’m  scared  that  i’ll  get  thrown  away  .  ’ ‘  why  can’t  you  fucking  hear  me  ?!  ’ ‘  are  you  listening  yet  ??  ’   

005.  NURSE’S  OFFICE  . ‘  don’t  punch  me  .  ’ ‘  just  let  me  go  .  ’ ‘  i’m  coughing  ,  i’m  bleeding  .  ’ ‘  they  hate  me  .  ’ ‘  i’m  faking  all  of  this  so  they  take  me  home  .  ’ ‘  i’m  tired  of  wishing  i  was  ditching  .  ’ ‘  can  i  sit  right  there  ??  ’ ‘  this  bitch  behind  me  is  cutting  my  hair  .  ’ ‘  i  faked  up  a  seizure  and  left  then  and  there  .  ’ 

006.  DRAMA  CLUB  . ‘  everyone’s  so  soft  ,  everyone’s  so  sensitive  .  ’ ‘  do  i  offend  you  ??  you’re  hanging  on  my  sentences  .  ’ ‘  i’ma  take  a  bow  so  you  can  kiss  my  ass  .  ’ ‘  i  never  signed  up  for  your  drama  .  ’ ‘  they  try  to  feed  you  lines  that  you  have  to  memorize  .  ’ ‘  do  you  even  have  a  brain  ??  ’ ‘  you’re  faking  all  your  pain  .  ’ ‘  you’re  bleeding  on  a  stage  .  ’ ‘  i  don’t  wanna  be  an  actress  living  by  a  script  .  ’ ‘  i  don’t  give  a  shit  .  ’ ‘  you’re  over-analysing  every  word  i  say  .  ’ ‘  i  think  it’s  pretty  boring  .  ’ 

007.  STRAWBERRY  SHORTCAKE  . ‘  feeling  unsure  of  my  naked  body  .  ’ ‘  wondering  why  i  don’t  look  like  barbie  .  ’ ‘  they  say  boys  like  girls  with  a  tiny  waist  .  ’ ‘  my  mama’s  preaching  to  make  sure  i’m  pure  .  ’ ‘  i  never  really  cared  about  this  shit  before  .  ’ ‘  got  boys  acting  like  they  ain’t  seen  skin  before  .  ’ ‘  got  sent  home  to  change  because  my  skirt  is  too  short  .  ’ ‘  it’s  my  fault  .  ’ ‘  it’s  my  bad  ,  no  one  told  them  not  to  grab  .  ’ ‘  it’s  how  i  look  and  not  what  i  think  .  ’

008.  LUNCHBOX  FRIENDS  . ‘  hey  girl  ,  will  you  sit  with  me  ??  ’ ‘  we  can  be  friends  if  you  wanna  be  .  but  only  ‘til  the  clock  hits  three  .  ’ ‘  after  lunch  we  can  walk  to  class  .  ’ ‘  they  all  want  a  bite  of  me  .  ’ ‘  they  gossip  about  hoes  that  they  don’t  know  ...  they  talk  shit  though  .  ’ ‘  i  don’t  want  no  lunchbox  friends  .  ’ ‘  i  want  someone  who  understands  .  ’ ‘  come  to  my  house  ,  let’s  die  together  .  ’ ‘  friendship  that  will  last  forever  .  ’ ‘  people  have  high  expectations  of  me  .  ’ ‘  wanna  be  my  best  friend  ,  then  judge  me  if  i  smoke  a  little  weed  .  ’

009.  ORANGE  JUICE  . ‘  you’re  screaming  at  the  mirror  .  ’ ‘  fooling  those  around  of  your  bulimia  .  ’ ‘  you  turn  oranges  to  orange  juice  .  ’ ‘  your  body  is  imperfectly  perfect  .  ’ ‘  everyone  wants  what  the  other  one’s  working  .  ’ ‘  please  say  that  you  won’t  continue  .  ’ ‘  the  way  you  look  is  not  an  issue  .  ’ ‘  i  wish  i  could  give  you  my  set  of  eyes  .  ’ ‘  i  wish  i  could  tell  you  that  you’re  fine  ,  but  you  would  find  that  disconcerting  .  ’

010.  DETENTION  . ‘  i’m  not  a  bad  guy  .  ’ ‘  please  don’t  be  mad  if  i  don’t  smile  back  .  ’ ‘  if  i  fuck  up  my  words  ,  don’t  think  i’m  absurd  ,  alright  ??  ’ ‘  i’m  physically  exhausted  .  ’ ‘  you  write  me  up  and  say  it’s  love  .  ’ ‘  baby  ,  can  you  meet  me  tonight  ??  ’ ‘  i  can  feel  your  blood  pressure  rise  ,  fuck  this  tension  .  ’ ‘  let  me  crawl  into  your  mind  .  ’ ‘  pretending  everything’s  alright  is  detention  .  ’ ‘  the  teachers  don’t  care  about  me  .  ’ ‘  they  let  them  do  whatever  they  want  to  me  .  ’ ‘  i  wanna  go  home  .  ’

011.  TEACHER’S  PET  . ‘  caught  the  teacher  giving  his  eyes  to  a  student  .  ’ ‘  it’s  for  all  the  right  reasons  .  ’ ‘  don’t  call  me  crazy  .  ’ ‘  you  love  me  ,  but  you  won’t  come  save  me  .  ’ ‘  if  i’m  so  special  ,  why  am  i  secret  ??  ’ ‘  do  you  regret  the  things  we  shared  that  i’ll  never  forget  ??  ’ ‘  i  know  i’m  young  ,  but  my  mind  is  well  beyond  my  years  .  ’ ‘  fuck  you  ,  don’t  you  leave  me  here  !!  ’ ‘  you  liar  .  ’ ‘  you  don’t  own  me  ,  do  you  ??  i  bet  you  think  you  do  .  well  ,  you  don’t  .  ’

012.  HIGH  SCHOOL  SWEETHEARTS  . ‘  can  we  just  be  honest  ??  ’ ‘  these  are  the  requirements  if  you  think  you  can  be  my  one  and  only  true  love  .  ’ ‘  you  must  promise  to  love  me  .  ’ ‘  if  you  fuck  me  over  i  will  rip  your  fucking  face  apart  .  ’ ‘  you  must  accept  that  i’m  a  little  out  of  my  mind  .  ’ ‘  give  me  passion  .  ’ ‘  if  you  can’t  handle  a  heart  like  mine  ,  don’t  waste  your  time  with  me  .  ’ ‘  high  school  sweethearts  line  up  .  ’ ‘  you  can’t  be  scared  to  show  me  off  and  hold  my  hand  .  ’ ‘  if  you  can’t  put  in  work  i  don’t  know  what  you  think  this  fucking  is  .  ’ ‘  if  you  cheat  you  will  die  .  ’ ‘  could  you  hold  me  through  the  night  ??  ’ ‘  could  you  be  my  first  time  ??  ’ ‘  don’t  be  a  waste  of  my  time  .  ’

013.  RECESS  . ‘  i  was  too  young  to  see  the  truth  .  ’ ‘  too  naive  to  even  care  .  ’ ‘  people  gonna  say  “  if  you  need  a  break  someone’ll  take  your  place  ”  .  ’ ‘  people  gonna  try  to  tell  you  you’re  fine  ,  with  dollars  in  their  eyes  .  ’ ‘  don’t  let  them  fuck  you  ,  honey  .  ’ ‘  don’t  let  them  hurt  you  ,  baby  .  ’ ‘  i  should  be  happy  but  i  can’t  get  out  my  bed  .  ’ ‘  stressing  about  the  voices  screamin’  inside  my  head  .  ’ ‘  where  has  my  time  gone  ??  and  my  mind  gone  ??  ’ ‘  i  can’t  find  euphoria  .  ’

[awhitehead17]

Red Challenge: Day One - Red Tape

Summary: When Jason’s helmet cracks he needs something to fix it with. Dick unintentionally gives him an idea on what he could use to temporarily fix this problem. 

Enjoy! :D

“Mother fucker.”

“What’s wrong Jason?”

“My fucking helmet is cracked. It’s only the first night as well and I didn’t bring a backup.”

“Well that was stupid, you always have a backup. Why didn’t you bring one this time?”

“Well sorry, I didn’t expect a bloody ceiling beam to fall and hit my head and then crack my helmet. We’re only here for three nights, I didn’t think that I’d need another one.”

Jason frowns down at his helmet in his hands as he studies it. There’s a large crack going from the base and up to the centre of the head. He didn’t bring a spare with him on this mission him, Dick and Tim were on because it was only a few days long, he figured that he wouldn’t need more than one.

Obviously he was wrong. 

Of course he figures if he did in fact bring another, the first one wouldn’t have broken to begin with but he guesses this is just karma being a bitch because he wasn’t fully prepared for this mission as he should have been.

He needs to fix his helmet before it gets worse. But how? He didn’t have any of his usual tools on him so that wasn’t an option.

Getting an idea, he whips his head around and looks at his younger brother who was sprawled out over one of the beds with his laptop on his thighs and was rapidly typing away on it. “Hey Timbo, what tools and gadgets have you brought with ya?”

Not looking up Tim snorts, “Nothing that’ll help you fix your helmet Jason. Seriously, by now you should know to be more prepared than this.”

Jason glares at him but doesn’t comment. The little bastard was wearing a smug smile as he types away on his laptop. At a later stage Jason will have to teach the little runt a lesson but for now he needs to get his helmet sorted. There’s no point in asking Dick, because like him, the man doesn’t really carry any major tools or gadgets around (well not the ones that he needs to fix his helmet at least) so it’s pointless.

On the bed next to Tim Dick huffs out a laugh, “If you’re really that bothered Jason, why don’t you just use glue or some tape? There’s a hardware store across the road I’m sure they’ll sell what you need.”

Before Jason comments about how stupid that idea is he pauses, actually thinking about it. He knows that Dick was only joking in suggesting that he go across the road to the hardware store but that it wasn’t actually that bad of an idea. Getting up from the seat he was on Jason grabs his wallet and heads for the door.

“Wait, where you going?” Dick asks completely baffled by his sudden movement.

Opening the door to their room he says over his shoulder, “To the store, I won’t be long!”

Dick stares at the closed door for a long time before turning to his other brother wearing a baffled expression, “He did realise I was only joking about the hardware store right?”

Tim shrugs, “Does it matter? He won’t come back with anything because what they sell wouldn’t be strong enough to fix his helmet, not even strong enough temporarily patch it together.”

Dick looks away from him as he carries on typing on his laptop, “I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I am,” Tim snorts, “Now shut up and let me type.”

Rolling his eyes at his brother Dick just allows him to get on with it. He gets up from the bed and wonders around their tiny motel room they’ve rented out for four days. He spends a good 10 minutes being bored out of his mind as he tries to come up with something to do, in the end he settles for a light workout.

He was half way through his push ups when the door to their room opens up and as Jason walks in wearing a grin on his face. Dick gets up into a standing position and silently observes as Jason wonders over to the table and picks up his helmet.

“So? Did you get anything?” Dick asks cautiously. The thing with Jason is that sometimes Dick simply just doesn’t want to know what the other man was up to, because that way he saves his own sanity but this time Dick is actually curious in what Jason’s come up with.

Jason places his helmet back down onto the table and starts shuffling through his pockets in the search for something. Finding whatever it is, he shoots a grin at Dick before bringing it out. Dick frowns when he finally sees what it is.

It’s a roll of red tape.

He opens his mouth to speak but closes it. He opens it a second time but closes it yet again. He just can’t seem to speak the question that’s in his mind to why Jason has a roll of red tape. Well in the end he doesn’t have to because Tim is the one who actually asks it.

“Why?”

Jason turns to him before sitting down at the small table in their room, “Because baby bird, why not? I saw it, it’s red, it’s tape and it’ll do.”

Dick watches with fascination as Jason starts to put strips of the tape across the crack in his helmet.

“You do realise that’s not practical, right?” Tim questions him again.

“It’ll have to do. I’ve brought another three rolls so I can top it up when and as I need to.”

Dick just shakes his head at the ridiculousness of it all. Then the image of the Red Hood going around with red tape covering his helmet pops into his mind and Dick finds it actually quite amusing. So instead of telling Jason that it was a terrible idea he just lets him be.

Sometimes the best thing to do is just to let him get on with it and let him learn the hard way. When his helmet does fully break (and it will) Dick will just be there laughing at him because it’s his own fault for not being prepared enough, especially when it was one of the first lessons that Bruce ever taught any of them. 

[nettyfawn-blog]

Coeur to Carousel 

Location: Basilica of Sacré-Coeur

Time: Spring 1910, Annette Michaeux is 8 years old

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of death, blood, and hunger.

Word Count: 1,724

“I’m still hungry.”

“You’re always hungry.”

“Because there’s never enough to eat.”

Annette is chewing on the last of her crust of bread, freckled nose raising to the sun as she looked up at the two older boys in their gaggle of half a dozen as they speak. The nuns of the Basilica Sacre-Coeur used jam today on their handouts -- she thinks it is blueberry, but she cannot be sure. It’s stale, but the jam does a good job of covering it up. It’s nice. A little extra treat for surviving another day and a perk of being poor and motherless..

“If we get our hands on a purse or a fat wallet we could get some jambon-beurre as big as our heads. Each of us. I saw a stand selling some down the hill--”

She continues to lick the last of the jam from her fingers, not quite willing to part with the taste yet. It’s always been the better idea to allow Anton and Hugo come up with the plans -- it’s not as if anyone would ever take her opinions into account anyway, seeing as she’s not only the youngest but also the smallest...She’s only half listening, but she has to admit that the idea of ham thrums a faint rumble in her stomach. However, she knows which part of the conversation comes next.

“Who’s gonna rope then?”

“Princess, of course.”

(It’s a nickname she’s earned around the circles of urchins, young pickpockets, and brothel wards. She had a tendency to chatter on about fairytales to anyone who would listen, whatever story Lusine has been spinning for her as she falls off to sleep. Princes and castles and giants and fairies…)

Annette whines from her seat on the ground against the shadowed basilica exterior, the stones cool from their shade on one of the warmer spring days they’d gotten after a terrible winter. She’s just shy of stamping her feet in protest.

“Why me? I did rope last time! And the time before!”

“Because you’re little. And cute. And people always stop for you,” Anton reminds her.

(Anton -- arguably their leader -- is a boy of thirteen, with dark hair and blue eyes. Five years from this moment, almost to the day, he will be Annette’s first kiss. It will not be one of her happier memories.)

“And you look the part today.”

That earns a scowl that the boys laugh at, the kind where she is attempting to look fearsome but unfortunately looks more adorable due to her stature. She’s offended, she’s just had a bath that morning after much nagging from Lusine, and her skin smells of rose water. However, her face is smudged with dirt and bits of jam on the corners of her mouth, and her curls are wild from running in the wind all morning.

“And there’s a beignet in it for you, if the bounty is enough.”

With a grudging huff exhaled from her lips, they know they have her. Beignets were her favorites -- she could never pass the opportunity to have one.

“Come on then, let’s shop for a mark,” Hugo agrees, reaching down to take Annette’s hand and pull her to her feet.

(Hugo had always been her favorite of the boys, more soft spoken and sensible in his plans. He’d always indulge when she wanted to play pretend. In less than a handful of years he’d join the army, too young, and be lost in the mud of some foreign trench in the war.)

Young faces peek out from behind the pillar to survey their options. Sundays are always the most busy at the Sacre-Coeur -- couples strolling hand in hand, families having picnics, musicians of all kinds and artists with easels painting the scenery…

“That one,” Anton concludes after a moment of passed suggestions among the miniature hoarde, pointing out a woman in a deep blue dress and a fine hat, She’s holding a parasol with black lace so intricate that Annette aches to simply touch something that pretty…

“She looks English.”

“Good. The English are dumb fuckers. She probably won’t even notice that it’s gone.”

The youths all laugh to each other as if they are masters of intricate humor. After a moment they recover, some pairs still breaking out in fits of giggles. Their band is a well oiled machine of foolery, and they all know their roles, so they emerge from their hiding spots one by one and mingle into the crowd.

“Put on a good show,” Anton reminds her, tugging on a handful of her hair as he passes in the , making Annette yelp in surprise and pain. She’s about to start after him with the intent of a wallop, mission forgotten and tiny fists clenched, when Therese grabs her by the collar of her dress and pulls her back into the shade.

“We’ll all meet down the hill at the carousel, alright?” Therese reminds her, licking her thumb to wipe the jam from the side of Annette’s mouth and making an attempt to flatter her hair. Annette growls in disdain and swats her hands away.

(Therese is older by four years has the same curls as Annette, only they are chestnut in color, and they share the same skin that is prone to freckling. She lives in a brothel with her own mother on the same street as Annette. Therese will be dead just shy of her eighteenth birthday. Strangled, in the bed of a patron. Annette will never know that they shared a father.)

“I know what to do.”

“Be careful.”

Annette scoffs as she remains the only one hidden by the architecture, muttering ‘I’m careful’ stubbornly under her breath to herself as she takes a step back into the shade. With several deep and rapid breaths, she works herself up to tears, cheeks rosy with the effort. She strides easily into the sunlight, making her way in the direction of the English woman who appears to be waiting for someone -- she makes use of her eyes, making them look wide and forlorn and lost.

She’s played this game dozens of times, but she’s gotten better at not anticipating the next move of the plan -- of Leon sprinting through the crowd, seemingly without warning, and knocking her down to the ground at full force where she lands at the woman’s feet. People in the near vicinity gasp as the little girl in the tattered dress with faintly red hair whimpers out in pain, knees skinned red and bleeding from the stone and palms scratched raw from catching herself. The pain makes it easily for the tears to come fully and spill over her rounded cheeks.

“You poor dear!” The woman in blue coos with concern as she steps to the young girl, extending a hand to pull her carefully to her feet. “Are you alright? Where is your mother?”

“I cannot find her!” Annette sobs in performance, the language barrier working effectively as the woman asks if she can speak any English. “I am so lost! Help me, madame, please! I am frightened!”

With that, Annette flings her arms around the woman with a wail, burying her face into the skirt with effective, yet fake, tears of distress. The woman is taken so off guard by the sudden outpouring of emotion that there’s no way for her to prevent Anton, quick as lightning, yanking the handbag from her wrist and taking off down the stairs and darting between day revelers before she has the chance to object.

It’s always Netty who must be quick escape the aftermath.

While the woman shouts to police nearby, a man grabs Annette’s by the wrist in an attempt to prevent her escape. Luckily, her teeth clamping down on his hand make quick work of that problem, and soon her small form escapes into the crowd. Thin legs spin beneath her as she takes off as fast as she can down the steep stone steps of Sacre Coeur. It doesn’t help that she’s bleeding -- that Leon pushed her far harder than what was necessary and that every stride makes of shoots of stinging pain. Plus, one of her shoes has been falling apart for days and how now at this moment decides to give up the ghost, its strap breaking flying off her foot and causing her to stumble over the edge of a step and in danger of falling down dozens of stairs that would hurt far more than skinned knees--

When she is swiftly caught by the elbow and pulled back to balance.

“Steady on.”

For a moment, Annette clings to her savior for reassurance like a frightened kitten without looking at their face, breathless and hands shaking as she clings to the white shirt sleeves waits for her stomach to catch up with the rest of her.

It can’t be a long moment, but it feels like it.

“You look hurt, do you need help?”

It’s then that Annette can hear the police whistle and the angry commands of ‘STOP’ in her native tongue. Any head start she had, she’s lost due to her fumble.

“I am fine, Monsieur,” she answers in French, flashing a smile through her panted breaths at the young man who caught her. He can’t be much older than sixteen, not yet a man. Dark hair. Well dressed and tailored. English accent, with skin that seems to glow bronze in the sun. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen eyes as dark as his before, and it takes another police whistle (closer now) to remind her where she needs to be.

“But your shoe-- You’re bleeding--”

“I’m fine,” she chirps in repeat as she back away from him, watching the police near over his shoulder from one flight in the distance.  “Thank you for catching me --”

And with that, she’s off once more with a squeal, leaping off the stairs for the safer path down the grass of the hill as the officer storms past the young man in pursuit.

She’ll reach the carousel uncaught, and she’ll be met with shouts of praise from her cohorts. She will get the beignet she was promised and eat it in three bites.

(Annette Micheaux thinks she met Bhari Sinclair for the first time the night she fell into his lap at the Moulin Rouge. However, she isn’t correct.)

[sinsiriuslyemo]

Good afternoon, guys!! So, we’re almost 2/5 into this longer season! How are we all feeling? Thank you guys so much as always for reading, and I know I’ve been shitty at the translations, I’m going to do my best to get those updated as soon as possible. RL + Cuba v DR leaves me very little time to eat or sleep, but I swear I will get to it!! In just five days, we’ll be having our next giveaway!!

EPISODE 15

Nevada stood in the Green room of the club late that night, watching as Omar and Jose brought in the last of the gun haul they would be moving with the bikers in just a few days. With their warehouses under watch, the club was the safest place for their contraband until the new police captain fell in line with all the other cops Trujillo had on his payroll. But since the man was fresh in the precinct, Nevada knew he would want to make his mark as the captain that would change the Heights and would be waiting for Nevada and his men to make a mistake.

Not on my watch, pendejo, Nevada thought to himself with a smirk.

They’d closed two the VIP rooms for “repairs,” which hadn’t sat well with the strippers at first, but Nevada always took care of his girls and had offered them all an additional thousand bucks an hour. With the escort business in Harlem doing so well, he could afford it easily without taking money out of anyone’s pocket except his own, which he would make back tenfold once this load of guns were delivered.

His phone rang and Nevada reached into his pocket as Omar brought in the final crate and answered. “Si?”

“Heads up, man, the new captain’s hardon is pointed right at the club,” Reyes said in a hushed voice, obviously still at the precinct and being careful to not be overheard.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” Nevada growled.

“I wish. Think he’s hoping to find illegal girls or prostitution going on there.”

He wouldn’t find either of those, that much Nevada knew for certain. He was always careful to vet every girl to make sure they were of age and legal citizens, and if he had ever caught wind of any of his girls selling pussy on the side, that girl would not only lose her job, but she’d also lose her head. The businesses Nevada kept were always legitimate on paper as well as in their operational practice. The only illegal activity was the dirty money being laundered through that business.

What the chief would find, however, were twenty five crates filled to the brims with semi-automatics and assault rifles, all illegal and all carrying a prison sentence of up to seven years for each weapon.

“Fuck,” Nevada spat. “When?”

“Tomorrow morning. He’s getting a search warrant from an old college buddy of his,” Reyes answered.

“Alright, thanks for the heads up,” Nevada replied. “I’ll make sure you get a little extra something this week.”

“You got it.”

Hanging up his phone, he looked up at Omar again. “You’re gonna fucking kill me.”

“Jesus Christ, what?”

“Fucking new captain’s coming in the morning to search this mother fucker, we gotta get rid of these,” Nevada answered.

“Fuck you,” Omar groaned as he tossed his head back.

Nevada dialed Josiah as he spoke to Omar. “Yeah, I know, bro. This guy’s a fucking pain in my asshole already. Chibby better find some dirt on this scrubby fuck before I make some dirt.”

“What is it with this guy’s hardon for you? You’re not that good looking,” Omar teased with a smirk.

“You know you’d suck my dick if I asked you nicely,” Nevada joked right back, putting the phone to his ear.

“Fuck that, I’d make you my bottom bitch,” Omar chortled, earning a laugh from Nevada.

“Si?” Josiah answered.

“Oye, we gotta bring some hardware over to Hechicera for the night,” Nevada said.

“How much space you need?”

“A room would probably be fine. Twenty-five packages, all heavy hitters,” Nevada answered.

“Yeah, I can open a room for you. Gonna need some gratitude for the tenant.”

“I’ll take care of it, don’t worry. We’ll be there in a couple hours,” Nevada replied, hanging up. “Alright let’s start getting this shit back into the van. We’re gonna take it to Harlem.”

Omar sighed, nodding his head before he lifted a crate and took it back to the van.

“I’m gonna update the girls and then I’ll come help you,” Nevada said, going to the main room of the club.

He looked around for an available dancer, which on a Saturday, especially in the heavy hours of the evening, was a tall order. The club tended to draw in an endless supply of customers on the weekends, from the morning to the wee hours of the night. He saw Lola--a tiny yet curvy woman with mocha skin that would make any man’s mouth water and an ass you could bounce a quarter off of--standing by the bar, obviously on her break since she spoke only to Barry and wore a silk robe around her lingerie. Coming up behind her, Nevada slid a hand over her hip and brought his mouth to the skin just beneath her earlobe.

“Tell the girls the VIP rooms will be open in two hours,” he purred.

“Aww,” she replied, feigning a pout and she arched her hips to rub against his groin suggestively. “No more extra thousand an hour?” she teased, turning her head towards him.

“Coño, mami, you’ve already been here four hours plus two more I’m giving you. Six grand ain’t enough?” he replied with a smirk.

She turned in place and slid her hands over his chest as she looked up at him from beneath her thick lashes. “A night with you would be better.”

He smirked. “You gotta talk to my wife about that.”

She grinned up at him. “I’ll let everyone know.”

“Good girl,” he replied, dipping his head to give her a peck on the lips before he went back into the green room to help Omar.

“You know, we got guys that could do this,” Omar said as he lifted another crate.

“Nah, we gotta take care of this from start to finish. Too risky using low-level guys, especially with this new captain. We gotta be smart,” Nevada answered. “Sides, you’re starting to get a dad-bod. You could use a work out.”

“Fuckin’ asshole,” Omar chuckled as he and Nevada carried crate after crate to the van parked in the alley behind the club.

Once they had all the guns out of the VIP rooms, Nevada handed Omar the keys. “Josiah’s waiting on you already, and just make sure to give his girl six grand for the room.”

“Alright,” Omar replied.

“Oye, take the back streets, stay off Amsterdam,” Nevada said.

“You got it.”

Jose leaned back against the bar in the club the next morning as the cops walked out empty-handed. Nevada had dealt with overzealous cops before, but none as hungry as this new captain. This one wouldn’t stop until Nevada was in cuffs, especially with elections coming up in a few months. Putting away a major player in the drug and gun trade would catapult anyone’s career and Jose wasn’t sure Nevada would be able to worm his way out of this Captain’s sights.

He could always spot something out of place in the club. That meant he saw the six-foot brown haired kid he helped raise from a mile away. Eddie strode into the club in a way that made it clear he had no idea how to behave in such a place. When his eyes met Jose’s, the boy made a quick beeline to him.

“Slow down, bumble bee. What’s up?” Jose asked.

“I wanted to talk to you,” Eddie said.

“Okay...so talk,” Jose answered. “Outside.”

Eddie nodded and the two moved outside of the club. There was a moment of silence as Eddie seemed to gather his thoughts and ran his fingers through his hair.

“So…Greyson and I are moving to Miami.”

Jose’s brows shot up on his forehead. “Shit. When?”

“I'm not sure yet, but soon.”

“That’s great. Good for you, kid,”Jose replied with a smile.

Eddie looked down at his feet for a long time before finally speaking again. “I want you to come with me…”

“That’s not happening,” Jose answered, shaking his head. “The hell am I supposed to do in Miami anyway? My life is here.”

Eddie's face fell. He knew it was a long shot, but he'd held out hope for a miracle.  “You've been with me my whole life...I guess I was just hoping.”

“You’re not a kid anymore, mijo,” Jose replied. “You don’t need anybody to take care of you. You’re a grown man now.”

Eddie nodded.“I know but, I'll miss you, ya know?”

“I’ll miss you too,” Jose replied. “You’ll be okay. I think it’s good you’re getting away from all this.”

“Me too,” Eddie said. “I'm afraid I don't know who I am without my family. I need to find out.”

“Yeah, you do.” Jose looked up in time to see an unmarked police cruiser posted across the street. “The sooner, the better if you ask me,” he added in a mumble.

Eddie looked at the car as well, moving to hug Jose. “You were my first best friend. I won't forget that.”

“I love you, too, kid,” Jose replied, patting Eddie on the back. He never had been one for physical affection, even with someone he thought the world of. “You’ll be fine. Just do yourself a favor and stay far away from people like us.”

Eddie smiled, “I'll see what I can do.”

“Good. You gonna go to school down there?” Jose asked.

Eddie nodded. “Yeah I'm looking at schools but probably University of Miami.”

“That’s a tough school to get into. Expensive too. You should check FIU, my cousin went there. Said it’s a good school.”

Eddie nodded and smiled. “Thanks.” He looked nervous, he wanted to start this new chapter, but even contemplating leaving had been hard. Everyone was so supportive and happy for him. It made him wonder if he'd even be missed.

“You gotta let your tio know where you land so I can come see you. Get down to Miami beach and grab me a nice tan,” Jose teased.

“Guys in Miami aren't half bad, ya know.” Eddie smirked and shrugged casually.

“How do you know? You’ve never been there,” Jose replied with a smirk.

“I've seen the brochures. We could find you someone nice, stable, easy going, just like you,” he said with a roll of his eyes and a laugh. “Maybe a nice Mormon boy.”

Jose shook his head. “No, no...the only guys I look for are pieces of ass. One and done. I don’t do that whole bullshit fairytale of thinking I could have a family. You kidding me? He’d be dead or gone inside a week.”

“Cause you do that dangerous shit. Get a better job.”

Jose arched a brow. “I like my job. Pays good, good hours...besides I didn’t go to college, what am I gonna do? Work some minimum wage job, bust my ass 12 hours a day for peanuts?”

“I worry about you. Minimum wage is better than dying.”

“We’re all gonna die someday,” Jose answered with a shrug. “That’s life. Everybody’s got their day.”

Eddie thought for a moment before nodding. “That's true, I guess.”

“But you don’t gotta worry about that,” Jose replied, patting Eddie on the shoulder. “Greyson happy?”

“Yeah he really is. Wants a new start, ya know?”

“Yeah, I don’t blame him,” Jose answered. “It’ll be good for you both.”

Eddie smiled before looking at his phone. “Shit, I gotta go, I gotta head to class but...can we hang out, just us before I go?”

“Yeah, we can probably work something out,” Jose answered.

Eddie nodded before he gave Jose a wave and started to walk towards the subway.

Rafael sat near the window of the cafe down the street from his mother’s apartment, using an index finger to idly trace over the rim of his cup. He heard the bell ring at the front of the shop and looked up as Lucia searched for him. When she met his eyes, he offered a hesitant smile and stood as she came towards him.

She sat down and Rafael sighed heavily. Usually she would kiss his cheek whenever she saw him, except when she was angry with him. “Okay...I guess you’re still upset.”

She quirked a brow. “Could you blame me?”

He bit his bottom lip and nodded. “No, I guess not,” he mumbled. Running a hand through his hair, he looked up at her. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I thought it would work itself out before I had to tell you...and I guess I was just so ashamed. I still am.”

“I know my son, you didn't do anything. Y/N was my wild child, not you,” she said with a soft chuckle. “Mijo, when you have a problem, you come home. You don't run off and hide from your family, me entiendes?”

Rafael nodded once. “I was embarrassed. I’m usually so aware of people’s intentions or at least paranoid about their behavior when it raises red flags.” He chuckled to himself and shook his head. “There were so many with Abby, I just chose to ignore them.”

Lucia listened carefully. “You're not going to catch them all, mijo. But you can't take everything on alone. Soy tu mama, you can always come to me.”

“I know,” he mumbled, staring at the dark liquid in his mug, which was likely already cold by then. “I’m sorry.”

Lucia moved to him and kissed his cheek. “Esta bien.”

He let a moment of silence pass between them and pushed his coffee cup away. “So what’s been going on the last two weeks? Anything exciting?”

“Nada, things have been slow.”

He furrowed his brow. “What does that mean?”

“Quiet, nothing new. Is Roxie enjoying the second trimester? You know I had heartburn all through my pregnancy with you, mijo.”

“She’s doing great, no heartburn. A little bit of leg cramping and a sore back every once in a while,” he answered. “We’ve started talking about names.”

“Ah si? What names did you like?”

“We’ve thrown a few around, haven’t really settled on one just yet,” he replied. “We’re gonna have a list people can see at the reveal party.”

“Si, I got the invitation. No te preocupes, I’ll be there. Oye, I’d like to bring Gladys, is that alright?” she asked.

He smiled at her and nodded. “Yeah, of course that’s alright. We’d love to have her there.”

The waitress came over and Rafael ordered a fresh coffee after Lucia had ordered one for herself. A comfortable silence settled between them as they waited for their drinks. When they got their beverages, Lucia stirred some creamer into her coffee and added sugar.

“Have you talked to your sister?” she asked carefully.

“No,” he answered, taking a sip from his fresh cup. “And she hasn’t reached out either.”

“You two need to talk this out, Mijo.”

“She’s the one that doesn’t want to talk to me and beyond that, mami, I’m tired of her loyalty coming with conditions. I’m always the one trying to mend fences with her. So this time, she can reach out to me with the olive branch,” he answered.

“Mijo, I'm sure she didn't mean to hurt you. We've all said something we don't mean once in a while.”

“I’m not gonna talk about this,” he replied. “What happened to make her so angry was a mistake and she treated it like I purposely did something to hurt Lily. And then she betrayed my trust because she was angry. I can’t keep forgiving her for the same thing over and over and then pretend like it never happened.”

Lucia sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Si, okay.”

“Mami where we go?” NJ asked as you buckled him into the car seat next to his sister the following day.

“We're going to the arcade, my love. You'll like it.” You nodded to Fiona who loved to help buckle the seatbelt. “We are going to have a great time at the arcade as soon as papi--oh there he is,” you smiled as Nevada stepped out onto the street from the apartment building with Lily who needed a last minute bathroom emergency.

Lily ran to the car, smiling. “Mami, can I have a hundred dollars?”

“What do I look like, an ATM?” you teased, ruffling your daughter’s hair as she climbed into the SUV. “Buckle up, okay?”

“Okay,” she replied. “Are we gonna go out to eat after?”

“Yeah, if you want,” you answered.

Nevada got into the driver’s seat and turned the ignition. “You don’t think the twins are too little for the arcade?”

“Probably, but they’ll get a kick out of the skeeball machines,” you replied, settling in the passenger’s seat.

Fiona pointed to Lily until the older girl buckled her seatbelt. Then she pointed to Nevada. “Papi, buckle,” she insisted.

You grinned as you buckled your own seatbelt. “My very own seatbelt police officer,” you said. “Alright, everyone ready?”

“No,” the twins echoed together. Nevada chuckled under his breath as he turned on the car and drove three blocks down, where he turned the corner and pulled up to the arcade.

“That was a short ride,” Lily observed. “Why didn’t we walk?”

“Cause your mother doesn’t like to sweat after she fixes her hair,” Nevada answered with a smirk. “She’s too pretty to sweat.” He got out of the SUV and opened Lily’s door, keeping his eye on the road to be sure there were no approaching cars. “Dale, get on the sidewalk.”

She hopped out, you and the twins all following suit. “Alright, now hold Lily's hand,” you instructed the twins.

As the five of you walked into the arcade, Nevada pulled out his phone to check his messages. Captain Asshole should have already served his warrant at the club and considering that none of their gun haul would be there, Nevada was anxious to know whether the new Captain would have a next move. More importantly, he wanted to know what that next move would be. Being on parole, the last this he needed was to get pinched on illegal gun possession.

“What do we do now?” Lily asked, eying all of the games, most of which were too tall for her to reach.

“Now we start off with skeeball. Think you and the twins can beat mami and papi?” you asked with a smirk.

The twins both looked at the machine.

“Mami what do?” NJ asked as he pointed to the machine.

You knelt down, putting coins into the machine as you heard the familiar clunk of the balls dropping into the dispenser. You grabbed one and rolled it up into the 100 points hold. “You roll it into the holes, papi,” you said and handed each of them a ball. Fiona rolled it up into the 10 point mark. Smiling at you for reassurance as you nodded. “Ay que bueno, mami!” You kissed her cheek.

NJ threw a ball overhand and hit the plastic cover, earning a laugh from Nevada as he stood to the side, before continuing to look through his phone.

“Me next,” Lily said, tossing a ball that didn’t quite make it all the way up to the slots, rolling back down towards her.

“You bad,” Fiona said, tossing another ball and also missing the marks.

“Well you suck,” Lily replied with a grin.

“Lily we don't say suck,” you said as you moved to put a quarter in your own machine. You tossed a ball, missing, purposely for the kid’s benefit.

“I do,” Lily giggled.

Fiona and NJ sat down with another ball and rolled it back and forth to each other instead of playing the machine while Lily continued to try and make points.

You smiled watching the twins before moving back to Nevada. “Wanna give it a go, papi?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Nevada sent another text to Chibby as he held his hand out for a ball. You put one in his hand and he stepped up to the machine, looking up from his phone long enough to see where the slots were before he turned his eyes back to his screen and tossed the ball. Despite his attention being elsewhere, he sank the ball into the 100 points slot as he stepped away again.

“This fucker’s not gonna stop,” he mused, shaking his head. “He’s gonna stay on our asses till he gets something to stick, I know it.”

“You sure you can’t pay him off?” you offered, genuinely trying to help.

“You don’t think I already tried? This fucker’s got something to prove,” he replied. “He’s one of the honest ones.”

“I wish I knew how to help,” you said sympathetically and rubbed his back. “What's the next step then? Have him removed?”

“What are you nuts? That’ll bring way too much heat,” Nevada replied. “We just gotta keep dodging him until he gets bored with us and hope he doesn’t get one of his buddies in City Hall to do him a favor and shut us down just for shits.”

You nodded. “Any luck finding the senator?”

“No, that’s another one that’s a pain in my ass,” he replied, sighing heavily.

You nodded, kissing his cheek. “It'll work out,” you said.

“Maybe,” he mumbled.

“Anything I can do?” you offered as you threw a skeeball up to the 100 mark before turning back to him with a smirk. This reminded you of your first date together.

“No, stay out of it. Both of us getting pinched won’t do these three any good,” he replied softly, shaking his head. “You’re not in my crew, just stay out it.”

You frowned. “I was just trying to help, I didn't mean with anything illegal,” you murmured before turning and moving back over to the kids.

“What exactly were you gonna do to help that’s not illegal? Tell me.”

“Nevada, I don't want to fight, I was trying to be supportive,” you replied.

“Do me a favor, be supportive some other way. You don’t wanna know all this shit that I do,” he said. “And I’m not trying to fight either, stop trying to make me look like I’m treating you shitty. I’m just talking to you.”

You just sighed, kneeling down to play with Lily.

“Unbelievable,” Nevada mumbled to himself as he called Chibby.

“This is Chibby.”

“Oye, tell me when the pigs are outta the barn, si? And do me a favor, get in touch with Reyes and see if he knows what this guy’s next move is,” Nevada said.

“Chibby is on it, young Jefe.”

Nevada hung up and looked down at the twins. “Oye, you guys want some candy?”

You picked up the twins, who were cheering for candy as Lily ran right to the concession stand on her own.

“We gotta tell these kids the story of La Llorona. They run off by themselves all the time. What the hell is wrong with them?” Nevada said before calling out to Lily. “Oye! Get back here! You don’t run away from mami and papi, me entiendes?”

Lily came back with a roll of her eyes. “Papi, you can see me.”

“It doesn’t matter. It only takes a second for something to happen. I don’t care that we can see you, you don’t step away from us. And roll your eyes at me again, mira ver,” he answered.

She nodded as she came back to where you guys were still standing. “Lo siento, papi.”

“Alright. Come on, let’s go get some candy,” he replied, putting a hand on her shoulder as the five of you walked to the cantine.

[silkygoldmilkweed]

Petyr Baelish vs Sandor Clegane: A Tale of Two Suitors

GRRM will be dead before he finishes the books so we’ll never get a chance to ask him about the construction process once the whole thing is out there, but until he says otherwise, I believe that he created Jon, Dany, Arya, Sansa, Sandor, Ned, Bobby, Rhaegar, Lyanna, Cat and Robb, and then built out many of the other characters as mirrors and foils to them. 

Theon is failed Jon.

Joffrey is the anti-Jon.

And I believe with all my heart that Littlefinger is the anti-Sandor. 

Name almost any character quality and Sandor has the opposite aspect to Littlefinger. Littlefinger is words. Sandor is deeds. Littlefinger is manipulation and lies. Sandor is brutal honesty. Littlefinger is selfish. Sandor is selfless. Littlefinger is either amoral or immoral or maybe both. Sandor lives by a strict personal code of how men, women and people generally are supposed to behave. Littlefinger is sinuous and simpering and sly like Hiss in Disney’s Robin Hood movie. The Hound is bold and strong and aggressive and all heart. 

But both of them want to fuck Sansa Stark. 

(My headcanon, BTW, is that Littlefinger’s nickname is really because he has a tiny dick and that it was Brandon “Wild Wolf” Stark that gave him the nickname. Sandor, of course, is prodigiously endowed. LOL.)

I think the show grants Littlefinger’s death scene a few nods to the SanSan subtext in Sansa’s life, and Littlefinger’s failure gives us some insight into where the Hound succeeded, even though it may not have been acknowledged at the time.

“Lady Sansa, I’ve known you since you were a girl. I’ve protected you–”

OK, this is excellent. When was the first time they met? According to Littlefinger circa season four, “The first time I saw you, you were just a child. A girl from the North, come to the capital for the first time. Not a child any longer.” So the first time they ever met was the Tourney of the Hand, and at that time, Sansa was officially a “child” or a “girl.” (Sandor met her just before that, and then won the tourney in question by protecting Loras from Gregor.) 

Anyway, LF’s been creeping on Sansa from the get-go (he puts his hand on her at the Tourney and Ned gives him a death glare) but more importantly, beginning as early as season four (MAYBE) but most certainly by season seven, Sansa is no longer a girl but a woman. SophieT is only 21 or something, but in Westerosi terms, Sansa is a twice-married widow of maturity and dignity. The way she dresses she could pass for a middle-aged spinster, but of course her face gives away her youth. 

Long story short, the show wants you to know that it’s no longer creepy if Sandor thinks she’s hot, because age difference or no, they’re both adults now and free people, and able to consent to sexual intercourse if they’re both of sound mind and body, etc.

“Protected me? By selling me to the Boltons?”

Littlefinger is first and foremost a flesh peddler. A whoremonger, as Lord Royce calls him. He sells Sansa’s body as readily as he brokers a street prostitute’s blow job work.

Counterpoint: Sandor Clegane doesn’t run around pimping out little girls. Can you even imagine? Quite to the contrary, he spends all his free time running interference between creeps and his Stark girls. Honestly, one of the most striking underanalyzed moments in the histories of the Hound is when he and Arya are with the farmer and his daughter, and the father is doing his prayers to the Seven. “We ask the Maiden to protect Sally’s virtue and keep her from the clutches of depravity,” says farmer dad. It’s at that moment that he interrupts, “Do you have to do all seven of the fuckers?” Now, mostly he’s literally starving and he just wants to get on with it, but I also think there’s an unspoken freaked-out reaction there: There’s no point in praying! The gods aren’t going to keep her from getting raped. They never stop any of that shit. You either can fight it off yourself or she’ll suffer it, same as all the other maidens.

The spectre of sexual assualt looms heavy over Sandor and Sansa’s “relationship,” not least because of the “fuck her bloody” line but also because of the size difference, the age difference, the power difference, his known predilection for violence, and his obvious overwhelming desire for her (not to mention Gregor’s history as a rapist, most famously of Elia Martell). But even though he could take her at any time, and she is quite often in very vulnerable situations with him, he never does anything untoward. (Show canon only, I know the book canon is slightly more salacious and risque, in word if not in deed.) But even though he could have stolen her against her will, and he should have, most likely, he politely asked her if she wanted to be absconded with and when she said no, he walked away. 

As he and Omar put it so succinctly, “A man’s got to have a code.” No stealing girls who don’t want to be stolen. 

Or as the vows of Westerosi knighthood put it, “In the name of the Maid, I charge you to protect all women.”

Littlefinger grossly exploits women’s bodies. Sandor puts his own body between women and danger. Littlefinger sells. Sandor frees. What a difference.

“If we could speak alone, I could explain everything.”

Littlefinger is a sneak. And a liar. He can’t do anything in the open, because he needs to lurk in the shadows to play his little games. It’s a kick to rewatch once you understand the extent of Littlefinger’s dishonesty, because you can absolutely see Aiden Gillen adjust his performance ever so slightly when LF is lying. It’s outstanding acting, although of course I loathe anything and everything LF-related.

Sandor, meanwhile, is honest to a fault. “A dog will die for you, but never lie to you.” 

“Sometimes when I’m trying to understand a person’s motives, I play a little game. What’s the worst reason you have for turning me against my sister? That’s what you do, isn’t it? That’s what you’ve always done. Turn family against family, turn sister against sister. That’s what you did to our mother and Aunt Lysa, and that’s what you tried to do to us.”

If we play this game with Sandor’s motives, I think we come to the conclusion that the worst thing he could want was to have consensual sex with a girl who was too young and too highborn and too fragile and too weak. He didn’t want Winterfell. He didn’t want money. He didn’t want power. He legitimately wanted to help Sansa, and later Arya. (I will insist on my deathbed that the Arya-for-ransom deal was bullshit generally but at best a poorly-thought-out plan to get him an entree to House Stark.)

The other thing is the sister divisions bit. I would add that Sansa and Arya (”different as the sun and moon”) have but a handful of things in common: Winterfell, their parents and siblings, and Sandor Clegane. He’s one of the things that binds Sansa and Arya together, rather than tears them apart. They approach him from different positions but end up in the same place.

Last but hardly least, he is the one single person who ever fought for both Sansa and Arya, who were almost completely abandoned after their father was killed. 

They were left alone in the wilderness. Arya had a little of Yoren and Jaquen and Gendry, but she was overwhelmingly scrapping on her own. Sansa had a little of Varys and Olenna and Littlefinger, but again, she was basically out there all by herself, being hunted by lions. The Hound was the only one who fought for them both. He is a tie that binds.

“Sansa, please.”

Ah, the pathetic begging. Show!Sandor never grovels for her attention. On the contrary, he discourages and frightens her on several occasions. He doesn’t need her the way Littlefinger is desperate for Sansa, both sexually and politically. Why? Because Littlefinger is weak and needy, whereas Sandor is strong and needy. Sandor desires Sansa Stark, but he doesn’t debase either of them to get what he wants. If what he wants is not freely given, he can walk away, whereas Littlefinger always crawls closer.

“I’m a slow learner, it’s true. But I do learn.”

Oh, my sweet Sansa. To me this line is so evocative and nostalgic and tragic. If viewed from a pure SanSan perspective, this is Sansa saying that she had to suffer through years of loneliness and torment at the hands of villains to be able to see what a good and rare and precious thing she had once had in Sandor Clegane. 

This line pairs beautifully with the other heartbreaker from Sansa to Littlefinger: “Back then I only thought about what I wanted, never about what I had. I was a stupid girl.” She’s had years to think about how her girlish, inexperienced, naive and entitled values prevented her from seeing that her True Knight was standing in front of her the whole time, right behind the beautiful, odious, vicious idiot king.

“Give me a chance to defend myself. I deserve that.”

Ugh. Let’s return to season six to reply to this. “I don’t believe you anymore. I don’t need you anymore. You can’t protect me. You won’t even be able to protect yourself if I tell Brienne to cut you down.”

Sansa sees now that she is much stronger and more powerful than Littlefinger ever was or could hope to be. He is a grubby little pretender and he destroyed her family for his own selfish ends, and he deserves every bit of the justice that he is about to receive.

Basically, my girl has become a woman, and she is free of all the bullshit men who have been using her for years. Tywin is dead. Littlefinger is dead. The Boltons are dead. 

She is unbound. She is a woman, and she can choose for herself, and I’m pretty sure what she chooses will be Sandor Clegane.

[micycle--wheeler]

It Always Gets Stranger

Mike’s family is going to Maine for the summer. Sometimes, things take a turn for the worst.

CHAPTER 6

read on ao3

read chapter 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5

words: 2162

warnings: homophobic / racial slurs (Henry Bowers, basically)

BEN Hanscom was a patient person. If anyone was to describe him, that was the word to use.

But when his yearlong friend, Richie Tozier, showed up at the quarry an entire hour late with six more people than expected, Ben’s patience was being tested.

“What the hell, Richie?” was Eddie Kaspbrak’s greeting to the boy, and he smiled sarcastically, showing off his slightly over-large incisors.

“Well ya see Eds, I was busy sayin’ goodbye to your mom and I lost track of the time-”

“Beep beep, Richie,” Eddie and his group of friends chorused, used to the antics of their trashmouth friend.

“What’s with the entourage?” Stan asked from his spot on a nearby rock, which he had taken to sitting on for the last half hour of waiting. The group of silent kids behind Richie shuffled, and Ben watched as a kid with wildly curly hair exchanged glances with a tall black boy.

Said boy spoke up, seeming to take leadership. “We’re friends of Mike, Richie’s cousin.” The boy motioned to another, who looked very much like Richie.

“Well, friends and cousins of Richie, welcome!” Beverly said from next to Bill, flashing a smile toward them. A couple of the strangers reciprocated, the curly haired kid and a girl with brown hair just as wild.

The air fell silent after that as everyone yook in the faces of new, and Ben did as well. There was also a girl with vivid red hair that could rival Bev’s, the long tresses pulled back into a ponytail. Next to the boy who looked like Richie (Mike, Ben was proud to remember) stood a kid with round eyes and a wary smile, his hair framing his face in a flattering way. A bird chirped and Stan’s head turned to the sound.

Surprisingly, Bill was the person to break the awkward silence. He motioned to the redhead’s shirt and asked, “Y-you like Eh-Eh-Elvis?”

She seemed to ignore his obvious stutter. “Yeah, I love him. You too?”

“Oh, I c-can never s-s-st-s-stop lis-listening to h-h-hi-him! The Losers ah-are always ann-an-annoyed at me,” He beamed. “Oh, and I d-d-do-don’t buh-buh-believe I caught your nuh-nuh-name.” She opened her mouth to speak as the curly kid beat her to it.

“She’s Max. I’m Dustin. And did you just call your friends ‘losers?’” Ben noted that some of his teeth seemed to be missing, and he had a slight lisp.

“It’s what we call ourselves,” Ben spoke up, and he felt slightly uncomfortable with so many new pairs of eyes focused on him. “The bullies called us ‘Losers,’ so we took the name as our own.”

“Original,” Max spoke up. “Our bullies just call us—”

Richie cleared his throat loudly, not in a way to get something out of it, but to draw attention to himself. “Uh, hello? Less chatty-chatty, more swimmy-swimmy? Come on fuckers, we’re losing daylight!” Richie strode over to the side of the cliff before anyone could point out to him that they had hours to swim.

“Wait, you’re gonna jump off of that?” Mike spoke up, a shake to his voice. He exchanged glances with Dustin and the unnamed girl, and Ben sensed that they had a story to tell from it.

“What’s wrong, Micycle, ‘fraid of heights?” Then he said quieter, “If he shits himself, it’ll be hilarious.”

“No, I’m not! I just… um… it’s a long story,” Mike defended himself.

“Probably about the diving board to the public pool, amiright?”

“Shut up, Richie. Not the time.” Eddie rolled his eyes.

Bill put a reassuring touch to Mike’s arm. “Do-don’t worry, Muh-Mih-Mike, we’ve all done it be-before. It’s perfectly safe.”

“But—”

“It’ll be fine, Mike. See? Watch.” Max pushed past Richie and took a large leap into the water. Everyone ran to watch her fall, and she let out a “Woo!” as she disrupted the water with a satisfyingly large splash.

“Holy shit!” Richie exclaimed. “That was really hot. Is she single?” Richie cringed away as Lucas punched him in the arm. The unnamed girl shook her head and jumped after Max. “Holy shit, is she single?”

“Beep-fucking-beep, asshole.”

“Aw, come on, Eds. I’m just asking a question you all know you wanted answered.”

Stan shook his head, the curls bouncing along. “Weren’t you hung up on Eddie’s mother ten minutes ago?”

“The past is in the past, Stan-the-Man.”

Ben looked at the others. “Wanna jump?”

Dustin grinned, his cheeks pulled up and his eyes crinkling. “Thought you’d never ask.”

Everyone’s feet left rock and flew through the air into the water, multiple cries of “Holy shit!” and “Woo-hoo!” being shouted into the air.

Ben did a head count, and, coming up two short, he looked back up at the cliff.

Two tiny figures stood, and Ben could see the dark hair and pale skin even from a height like that.

Richie and Mike seemed to be arguing, hands waving and voices carrying down the cliff, although Ben couldn’t decipher what they were saying. Ben saw hands connect a chest, and one of them came flailing down the cliff with a strangled “I’M GONNA KILL YOU, RICHARD!” The second figure followed, and Max gargled on water as she let out a laugh when Mike hit the water.

…

Lots of water-splashing and chicken-fighting ensued after that, and the twelve kids took to lounging on the rocks as they dried off and music from Richie’s boombox filled the air.

“So… what brings you guys to Derry?”

Stan had known about Richie’s family situation, as he had complained to them over and over since he’d gotten the news. He (and the rest of the Losers) had no idea as to why they had come.

“My mom,” Mike had spoken up. “She wanted to visit her sister and my entire family was dragged along.”

“Yeah, and we didn’t want him to be alone all summer,” Lucas elaborated.

“Sorry Rich,” Bev turned to the boy with magnified eyes, “if you have to leave for the summer, we’re ditching you.” Richie glared and everyone cracked a smile.

The air fell silent again, save the boombox blasting one of Richie’s many mixtapes.

“Is it true that Derry has twice the average amount of deaths than the national average?” Dustin burst out randomly, as if he was waiting to pop the question all day. The losers’ heads turned to Ben, knowing he was the library feel out of all of them.

“No, actually. It's six times.” Dustin's eyes widened, like a little kid that got what they wanted for Christmas.

“Totally tubular,” he smiled at Lucas and Max, although nobody else seemed to get the joke.

…

On the walk back, Eddie has a feeling of something being… off. When he asked Bev, she just shrugged, saying, “You always feel like something's off, Ed. I bet it's nothing,” and she pushed his shoulder in a sisterly manner.

“She really think shes gonna come outta that school?” Eddie turned at Stan's voice, his gaze fixed on a lone woman sitting on the steps of the empty school, hopping up peeking through the doors as if waiting for someone who was late.

“What? Who’s ‘she?’” the short boy, Eddie learned who was named Will, wondered.

“Betty Ripsom,” Beverly said to him. “She went missing a few weeks ago. That's her mom over there.”

“It's as if she’s been locked in a janitor’s closet for the last few weeks,” Eddie muttered, looking at the mother who was hiding on to a nonexistent thread of hope that her daughter was lost at school, that's all.

“Do you think they're actually gonna find her?” Stan spoke aloud to the silent group.

“Sure,” Richie started, and Eddie prepared himself for an offensive comment. “In a ditch, all decomposed, covered in worms and maggots and smelling like Eddie's mom's underwear.” Richie motioned to Eddie, who shivered at the idea.

“Shut up, this is freaking disgusting.” Eddie shook his head to rid himself of the image, filled with millions of deadly bacteria.

“She's not dead, she’s mm-meh-missing,” Bill said defensively, glaring at the bespectacled boy.

“Sorry, Bill,” Richie apologized, his extra-large eyes seeming to come into focus as he adjusted his glasses. “She's missing.”

Eddie was surprised. The only other times he'd heard Richie apologize was once to the principal for selling candy from his locker (after his mother forced him to), and once to a streetlight that he thought was a person after he ran into it. It was a thing of Richie's: he just didn't apologize to things because he usually didn't feel sorry.

But of course, Bill was always sort of treated a little like glass since what happened in October… Eddie still remembered the phone call and how Bill had to hand the phone to his mother because he was stuttering so badly.

“They’ll find her,” the curly-haired girl said, and Eddie was startled to realize this was the first time he’d heard her speak. She had a soft voice, and it reminded Eddie of a warm cabin in the woods that he had never been to before. She spoke with a sort of certainty to her voice that made it sound like she knew Betty personally, and had seen her. It was quite calming.

“Should we tell her about the shoe?” Ben was still staring at the mother, who glanced at the group before turning back to the school.

“What shoe? Did you guys find something?” Lucas asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

“W-we were in the ss-sew-sewers yesterday,” Bill explained. “Looking f-for…” he took a deep breath, “no one.”

“‘Looking for no one.’ Wow, that’s not sinister sounding at all.” The redheaded Max shook her head as Lucas nudged her in the arm. She sighed. “Sorry.”

“Is that how you guys spend your summer?” Dustin asked, crunching down a granola bar that Eddie didn’t know how he got. “Inside of sewers?”

Richie was silent for a heartbeat before, “Beats spending it inside of your mother. Ohhh.” He raised his arm for a high-five to Stan, who grabbed it and yanked it down.

“Woah,” Mike said, looking at something Eddie couldn’t see, “Nice car.”

They all turned, spotting a blue Trans Am, and Eddie’s face paled. “W-we should get outta here.”

“Why, Kaspbrak?” a sneering voice spoke. “’Fraid you’ll go missing too?” Eddie turned around, spotting Henry Bowers standing just a few feet in front of the group. How he managed to sneak up on them, Eddie had no idea, and he sometimes wondered if he had the ability to teleport.

Riche let out a choking sound as the back of his shirt was yanked backwards, and he fell spectacularly into Stan, where they both landed on the ground with an almighty “oof.”

A large belch sounded right next to Eddie’s ear, and he cringed away from the sound and the hot breath, gagging as the boy, Belch Huggins, let out a big laugh.

“Knew he was a bottom,” Patrick said as Richie tried to get up off of Stan, and Victor Criss, another one of Henry’s goons, pushed him back down. Patrick kicked Stan in the arm. “Fuckin’ flamer!”

“And who have we here?” Henry said, looking toward Lucas, who had a scowl set on his face. Eddie wouldn’t put it past him that he would punch Henry if he had the chance. “You seem far from home, dontcha, Midnight?”

“Eat shit.”

“Oh, you think you’re all high ‘n’ mighty, don’t ya?” Henry said in that menacing voice of his. “Newsflash, kid: you don’t belong here. Stay out of this town. Or you’ll deserve what’s comin’ for ya.”

“Hmm, what else’ve we got here?” Victor seemed to have snuck up behind Max, and he had a handful of her hair in his fingers. She yanked herself away from him, turning around and stepping on his toes.

“Leave her alone!” Dustin said angrily. Henry’s gaze turned to him, and Dustin’s bravery seemed to melt.

“You seem to be missin’ a couple ’a teeth there, Curly. Shut up if you don’t want to lose some more.”

“Ss-sss-sshut it, Bowers!” Bill said angrily, his mouth seeming to not agree with his words as he spit them out. Henry turned around slowly, that threatening look back in his eyes.

“You suh-suh-say somethin’, Buh-Buh-Buh-Billy?” he strode over to the boy until they were inches apart. “Yeh got a free ride this year ‘cause ‘a your little brother. Ride’s over, Denbrough.”

Eddie knew he was going to do something horrible like he always did, but a police cruiser had rode down the street, slowing down while going by the kids. His father, Eddie thought to himself.

“This summer’s gonna be a hurt train. For you and your faggot friends.” He walked away and toward Belch Huggins’ car, but not before licking his hand and wiping it on Bill’s face.

The kids all watched them ride off.

“Wish he’d go missing,” Richie commented.

“He’s probably the one doing it,” Eddie said thoughtfully.

~~~

@cactus-byers

wanna be tagged? Just ask!

[hanzi83]

YOU WANNA SEE THE MOST IRRATIONAL BLOG EVER..

You know what maybe I should do what you guys do, most of you and start leaning centrist and to the right, even you pretend ass bitch liberals who pretend to be anti Trump are categorized in this because speaking out against Israel or calling out systemic evil hasn’t gotten anywhere, and even my people in my life have made deals with the devil so they can partake in systemic orgies while pretending to be male feminists, or try to be woke. Maybe I should start making deals with the devil too then; maybe I should be Pro Israel, pro racism, pro misogyny and actually be out in the open with it. Watch how fast these bitch ass media outlets will then start paying attention because you refuse to pay attention when I have reached out numerous times, and you can’t because powerful people locally who take orders from the Zionists have controlled my growth and once were socially conscious type but now suck up to the inner white supremacy so you can have your wrestling, sports, comedy, hip hop connection etc so maybe I should cheer on when white supremacy rises or some shit. Watch out how much you bitch ass shit fucks start paying attention then. I would rather die than ever make peace with any of you or ever break bread with any of you.

Maybe I should sell my fucking soul and become a Pro Israel person and actually be treated like I am a good guy and maybe then you fuck tards who pretend to be a part of resistance will pay attention and suddenly need to stop me, while you sit back and take that Zionist dick from Stern behind the scenes and he rams his fucking tiny cock in your mouths and the semen stains the back of your fucking bootlicking subservient mouth.

I will never be happy until your bitch ass bootlicking cunts kill me. Maybe I should attack the Me Too movement and blow the cover that this is probably all staged and scripted and you all are fucking each other behind the scenes and now it is just the men in charge allowed to now get traction and they are probably all long gone and dead, and their fucking clones are around to deal with the mess while all of you think you got some justice when everything you cheer for is fucking symbolism and it doesn’t mean shit in the end. And anyone in the wrestling business or covers it has a problem, you are no better, you are supporting a white supremacist company like the WWE who supports Trump, you can pretend to be outraged by Saudi Arabia etc but you still take that Vince McMahon dick in your mouth. In my opinion he runs everything, even the independent circuit you cling onto as something about being anti WWE, and you are still supporting them. The evil never runs out, it is just designed as something else.

I would rather die than ever serve that evil. Fuck everyone who does, but maybe I need to if it means getting traction since you fucking woke people are so woke about everything and anything but never once call out the real evil of the system and just pick on the characters that prop up in mainstream. A lot of my people support fucking evil systemic shit, and pretend they are good people. They sacrificed me so they can get all the orgies, perks, access they want and none of them have the fucking balls to say anything about it because it would mean they have to be subservient to me for hooking it up because I was the asshole who took all the fucking harassment and lumps from being prostituted on the Stern Show.

The funny thing is these people pretended they fucking cared about my status and cared about me progressing when it was all about them, it has become clear when they invite me out but still show me some disrespect while dick riding me and telling me I am a fucking legend while simultaneously shitting on me with your bitch ass subtle ways, and just because I didn’t compromise my sexuality like you guys did because you guys wanted to be down, and you were forced into marriages, which don’t even mean shit because most of you fuck other girls and guys on the fucking side. Nothing has any meaning, it is all pretentious. I feel sorry for all of your fucking kids who have to grow up and realize what kind of evil people run the world and what their parents had to do to survive.

Don’t worry once I post this, they will all try to root for my death, which is the point. I want you all to kill me. So if I say I support white supremacy, misogyny, homophobia etc, then will you pay attention and call me out and then put a fucking bullet in my head, since none of you fucking assholes care about my mental health and pretend to preach about mental health awareness, while the faces of mental health on the surface are the biggest fucking cowards because they won’t ever fucking tell you why this happens and how it is designed and they think they are really doing something about it. You aren’t doing shit. You are doing less than me, and I do fucking nothing for a living and I sit here every fucking day and wish for my demise so I never have to see anyone ever again.

I am waiting for the shit heads on Reddit to post this and not even see the point of this irrational anger. “HANZI IS LEANING RIGHT THESE DAYS, HE IS GOING EXTREME AND HE MIGHT KILL SOMEONE” Yeah a guy with no fucking weapons or no desire to hurt anyone is going to do something, what fucking shit heads. Maybe if I say I am going right, maybe they will support me, because everyone else behind the scenes is rooting for Trump. If they wanted him out they would have had him out, but most of these fucking celebrities that are going after him are going after him because Trump fucked some chicks they used to like. Someone inside showbiz told me that and I know you will say he isn’t credible, but none of these people are really against Trump because they support white supremacy beneath the surface, even the ones who seem to be the most staunch liberals.

None of these women actually care about the Me Too movement; I wonder what excuse they will come up with when it is Stern’s turn. They will pretend Stern forced them to keep quiet, but had no problem going to his Hamptons parties and the females that still hype him up are going to look stupid and that is why no one will ever take your fucking movements seriously because you still make deals with the devil because you love those access journalism, and systemic orgies that you pretend you don’t do because you are trying to convince people you made it because of your talent, when the talent is only 4th down the list of what you need to make it. It is because you have to fuck someone to get in position, and then later you can claim you were raped. MAYBE THIS WILL GET TRACTION BECAUSE I JUST SHIT ON THE PRECIOUS ME TOO MOVEMEMNT, YET YOU WILL FUCKING ALIGN YOURSELVES AND DEFEND PEOPLE WHO HAVE DONE WAY WORSE. Any female who claims to be about this movement and you are still cool with Howard Stern, you have no fucking credibility, you have less credibility than I fucking do. That is why no one is going to believe shit.

Maybe I should start waving an Israeli flag and shit on Palestine like everyone of you “GOOD OLD LIBERALS” You call out Trump because it is easy to fucking do, you won’t ever admit that your bitch ass support for Hilary or any other corporate democrat is still supporting white supremacy but you just want to seem half woke You just call out the bare minimum of what is really corrupt and that is why it makes you look good to kind of call out Trump but you will find out that these good socially conscious types are also in the same fucking bed with all of these guys. At least Kanye had the balls to admit it, the rest of you just pretend and it will help you with not having to pay taxes, but still pretend that you are these staunch liberals, especially all of you fucking comedians and Hollywood type, who were busy laughing at the Whack Pack, instead of calling out Stern, maybe someone like me wouldn’t have bought into him being a good person since respectable people gave him props and associated with him. How the fuck is Jimmy Kimmel is bastion of liberalism when he has partook in shit with Howard Stern to mock the mentally disabled on his show and say its all in good fun and then gets on television like the pretentious twat he is and cries his little eyes out because a fucking lion died. Fuck you, you are probably a fucking Trump supporter too, but this is just for show.

Howard Stern runs his dick through all of you mother fuckers and you will keep pretending he is irrelevant which is why you are all afraid to call him out and you will then pretend to act shocked when something about him is revealed and I will be there to call you all out for the lying sacks of shit you are. If people in my life want to do business with filth and evil just so they can pimp out people they know to be down with those then fuck you too. I don’t want to be associated with any of you mother fuckers. All of you in this world have compromised your fucking sexuality to make it, remember it is never because of your talent, the talent doesn’t mean shit, and you can keep pretending because you all have pretend journalist write think pieces and act like their opinions are not biased at all and then anyone who says anything remotely related to a conspiracy, you lump them in with Alex Jones because deep down all of you support Alex Jones, otherwise he wouldn’t have never caught traction, you did that on purpose to make it seem like there was someone speaking some sort of truth and now you use it to spew vile hatred on conspiracy theorists. I rather be a conspiracy theorist then ever be a part of any of your fucking clubs. They are all filth. I wish every fucking day someone would fucking murder me, because I am  not going to do it on my own, I will remain here for as long they allow me. One day they will have to kill me, especially if I am trolling and telling you I am going to hype up white supremacy and support Israel, then one of you SJW’s will have to fucking kill me and you will be cheered on for it. Come on and do it. I have nothing to live for, no one wants me and I don’t want them. I just want to die as soon as fucking possible.

If you are stupid enough to think I am actually a white supremacist, maybe I should just pretend to be one and support all the wrong things since you all actually do support the wrong things behind the fucking scenes. Look at the irrational anger you fucking no good shit heads. Discuss this amongst your shitty little private groups and dissect it while you laugh it off but when you are alone you are crying because I hurt your little bitch ass feelings. Just like you have no respect for me, for my erratic behavior and irrational attitude to piss people off, I have no respect for any of you. I have no respect for anything you say or you do because it is all limited and none of you have the real power and the ones that do will do whatever it takes to maintain it.

None of you will even say anything until the day I am dead so then you can pretend you gave a fuck about mentally ill people, but allowed a sea of targeted harassment to come my way and make me feel like utter shit. You will probably frame me for something and fuck me over. I wish you would just be men and just fucking kill me. I have no desire to be here and as long as I am breathing I will be online causing shit and calling people out even if it means I get more blacklisted. What is the point, you already gave all my friends and connections to other people in my life, so why would you even need me, you have the better version of me that you can pretend to like.

I wish all of you who take pleasure in my misery and my behavior that this shit happens to everyone you fucking love and you have to deal with this. I hope you are haunted at night and can’t sleep because you shook hands with the devil and had to compromise your sexuality and beliefs to make it anywhere in this world and I will be in my fucking parents basement where it has been designed to happen, so bitch ass tricks can get ahead of me and make their lane and did it solely because I didn’t want to sell my soul, so you did it behind my back and joined up with evil shit heads. Now you get to pretend you are a good person. None of you are. You are all fucking evil and I wish the worst shit to happen to every single one of you for even fucking with me.

You allow sexual predators online to make waves as personalities and then pretend you are against it but you will never fucking admit that you support this kind of behavior and let it go on. That is why you let Woody Allen parade around, and you let Bill Cosby, or R Kelly makes waves and when their careers were done, then you decided to call them out for it because it became easy and convenient for you. None of you actually care and this women empowerment in 30 years will be exposed when some of these women are exposed as doing something fucked up and then pretending they could do it because they are women and they are allowed to get away with it.

DO YOU LIKE THAT IRRATIONAL ANGER? DO YOU TAKE PLEASURE OR DID IT PISS YOU THE FUCK OFF. I HOPE IT DID BECAUSE NOW YOU KNOW EXACTLY HOW THE FUCK I FEEL EVERY FUCKING DAY WHILE YOU MOTHER FUCKERS HAVE PROFITED OFF ME, WHILE I HAVE TO CONSTANT INCREASE MY MEDICATION BECAUSE NONE OF YOU HAVE THE BALLS TO BE HONEST ABOUT WHAT YOU HAVE FUCKING DONE TO FUCK ME OVER. I WISH YOU ALL NOTHING BUT THE WORST AND I HOPE WHEN YOU DIE YOUR SOULS ALL ROT IN HELL. FUCK YOU ALL FOR ALLOWING THIS TO KEEP HAPPENING AND I WILL SIT HERE AND WAIT UNTIL SOMEONE FUCKING COMES AND MURDERS ME. I Won’t do it myself, I am a peaceful person who is trolling you all right now with some irrational fucking anger to prove a point but it will go over all your fucking heads because you will somehow pretend not to understand irony or say I am shit at explaining it. Fuck you all.

Again anything I said in here is just my opinion backed up with no facts. It is still fuck you though 

[veiledtreasurebdbrp]

FIRST IMPRESSIONS w/@OhSoRahvenous

Rahv: *The music pounded through me as I polished off my second beer. The trainees had dragged me out here after learning I had never been “out on the town” before and I was twenty-five years old. No one knew about my past so I didn’t say a word as they said this was a must. Though, for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why. There was nothing but dry humping on the dance floor, people selling drugs, blood, and sex in the back rooms. Why was it so important that I come here again? Oh, right… I was making friends and since they were my first ever, I was humoring them. I laughed as a joke was shared amongst our group of three but as I looked across the bar, I saw a female walking in that caught my eye. Virgin Scribe but she was gorgeous as she made her way inside. It seemed like she was looking for someone so no luck there. Not that I would ever speak to her anyway. I didn’t approach people. It just didn’t happen after my past. I trusted no one. Hell, I barely trusted the trainees that supposedly had my back in case anything happened. It would take time. I tipped the bottle back, getting the last drop, before standing* I’ll get the next round. *They both cheered as I walked up to the bar and motioned to the bartender for another round. Yeah, I didn’t mind this so bad but I definitely could have done without it. Must be my upbringing. But I would let the guys have their fun tonight. At least the music was decent, I thought as the bass vibrated through me, causing me to tap my fingers on the bar top to the beat*

Treasure: Growing up in the mountains of Colorado, I had been to my share of bars but, nothing like ZeroSum. There were no nightclubs there. You had to travel to the city to find those and due to my circumstances, the city was one place I avoided. So, when Amari said she worked at a nightclub, let’s just say I was pretty weary. But, she had seemed so nice, and I really did need the feed, which was the main reason I had agreed to come. It had been a couple months since I had arrived and that, on top of the time it had taken me to travel here from Colorado, I was way past due for a feeding.

Lohre was the name Amari had given me. She said he would find me at the bar, and from the description she gave of him, I would be hard pressed to miss him. As I sat at the bar, watching all the people around me, I hoped he would show up quickly. I didn’t want to be here any longer than I had to. Then I saw him, walking up to the bar and a small breath of air escaped my lungs. Oh Scribe! He was way more attractive than the ones my mother used to purchase for me. My palms began to sweat as I waited for him to approach but, he walked to the other end of the bar. I slipped through the crowd until I found him standing, face to the bar. I slowly reached out and tapped him on the shoulder, and speaking quite loud in order to make sure he heard me over the music, “Lohre?!”

Rahv: *My head was lost in my own thoughts about the training program and the whole making my first ever friends, god how juvenile was /that/ thought?, when I felt a hand tap me on the shoulder. My skin crawled since the person came from behind me and I whipped around, body jerking as if I was about to jump out of my skin. My eyes must have been crazy at first but I managed to get everything under control before I did serious damage when I saw who it was. It was the female I noticed walking in. The one meeting someone. And that thought was only solidified when she called me another male’s name. I clenched my jaw to keep the memories at bay that threatened to break loose. I did NOT need an episode here of all places. Nope. Stay in my nightmares, mother fucker. You don’t get to breach into my time with the guys. The family I was hoping I was building. Once I was back under control, which took a lot of effort, I looked down at @Treasure_BDBRW and shook my head.* That’s not my name. Sorry, ma’am. I’m not your date. *I said, feeling oddly let down that I wasn’t. Had no idea where /that/ thought came from since I had never once been interested in anyone, male or female. So where in the hell did I start coming off like someone who was jealous? I was unfamiliar with the sensation so I pushed it aside as I took in her features. Hair that looked so soft I wanted to bury my hand and face in it. Eyes that threatened to drown me in them. Lips that begged for me to… And NOPE. Stopping that freight train before it goes anywhere. Great, you’re staring, Rahv. Good one. I nodded to the bartender as he put up a couple of drinks up on the bar before turning back to @Treasure_BDBRW* But I’m sure he’ll find you if he’s here.

Treasure: The male whipped around so fast and the look on his face was almost that of fear. I hadn’t meant to startle him. I guess I should have thought twice before approaching someone from behind. I was so caught off guard with his response that it took me a minute before I started to try to apologize, “I’m so… “ but he jumped in with some comment about not being my date. I shook my head, without thinking, “Oh, he’s not my date.” But, I stopped there. I didn’t want to have to get into who the male I was meeting was and exactly how he wasn’t my date. Not to mention this male had me completely off balance. It was everything about him. Not only was he amazing to look at, there was something about the sound of his voice, the way he held himself, the hidden tenderness to his tone and the way I felt somehow strangely connected to him... Add to all that the way his gaze raked over my features. I felt as if the temperature of the building just went up ten degrees.

Noticing the drinks he quickly grabbed for, I cleared my throat and extended my hand, not willing to let this male walk away just yet. “Hi. My name is Treasure.” Dearest Scribe, I didn’t know how to do this. I didn’t know why I was doing this. I was hoping I wasn’t looking like a desperate fool but, I was so drawn to this male. I knew if he walked away at this moment, I may never see him again and every piece of my being couldn’t handle that... Then there was the other part of me, the one that wished I could move my feet from where they were firmly planted in the ground and run far away from this male. I wasn’t allowed to feel this way. It was dangerous to feel this way. This must be the feeling my mahmen always warned me about. The feeling that could end up with me dead, or worse, captured and tortured. Shit! I could feel my heart slamming against my chest walls as I waited for him to release me somehow.

Rahv: *It must be the bass thumping through the room but this female’s heart sounded like it was going a mile a minute. I mean, I wasn’t a small guy by any definition but I wasn’t the biggest one out there either. So, I couldn’t help but wonder what about me made her so nervous. Then again, I no longer had all my scars after the transition. From the bites, the scratches, the… I pushed those thoughts away as I grabbed for the drinks the bartender set up on the bar but was interrupted when @Treasure_BDBRW held out her hand to me. I blinked a couple of times, taking a second to register her name. Holy fuck did it fit her. She really did look like a treasure, one that was supposed to be kept away from prying eyes and protected. This city was a dangerous place and here she was walking around… Alone. I just shook off the thoughts as I reached forward and took her hand gently into mine, giving it a gentle shake. I had to clench my jaw tightly shut as I felt what must have been electricity from the touch. What the actual hell was going on here? Walk away, Rahv… I said internally to myself as I got my body back under control as a strange wave went straight between my legs, making my jeans tighter and more uncomfortable. Walk away.*

*Did I? Hell no. I ignored that tiny voice in my head and just waved the other trainees over to get their own damn drinks that I just bought* Do you want anything? I’ll add it to my tab. *Wow, that sounded intelligent. Go ahead and make her think you’re getting her drunk. Yeah, I was definitely new to this whole scenario. I waited for the guys to come over and give me a knowing smirk before they walked back to the table with their drinks. My eyes rolled at their antics as I picked up the cold beer bottle and tipped it up to my lips before I realized, I hadn’t given @Treasure_BDBRW my name in return* I’m Rahvenous. *And I /just/ figured out how corny my name was. Thank you, druggie parents, for that name.*

Treasure: Some sort of shock rushed through me as our hands connected and my eyes shifted swiftly downward toward them. It took me a minute to remind myself to let go, and when I did, I slowly brought my hand to my side and returned my gaze to meet his. This was soooo not good! I could hear my mahmen’s words in my ears. ‘Males are for feeding and friendship /only/! Unfortunately for you, it is too dangerous for there to be anything else. In this world, if you are found out to be what you are, you could be killed or tortured. You must never let a male get too close. Promise this to me.’ I had promised, and I had every intention to keep that promise. If my mahmen could live a life of service, there was no reason I couldn’t live a life of solitude.

However now, looking at this male, I wanted everything my mahmen told me to be a lie. I wanted to not think about her looking down on me, watching this whole interaction. But, I knew she was. Imagining that, I took a small step back and settled myself on the stool behind me. Trying to erase the thoughts from my mind, I put my focus back on the male before me. “Huh? Oh... “ Nodding. “I’d love a Midouri Sour. Thank you.” I flashed a small smile in thanks.

As his friends came up and grabbed their drinks, I offered each a soft smile, wondering what the small nudges and winks were all about. Once they were gone, the male turned back to me and introduced himself. Rahvenous, a small giggle snort slipped out before my whole face turned a bright crimson flush. So on the nose with that name. In hopes he hadn’t heard that, I quickly tried to change the subject. “It’s nice to meet you.” As someone bumped into me while trying to catch the bartender’s attention, I scooted to the far end of my barstool and looked out to the crowd. “Is it always this crazy?”

Rahvenous: *I watched @Treasure_BDBRW out of the corner of my eye as she looked like she was trying to cover up a snort after I told her my name. I just gave a light shake of my head as I took another swig of my beer* Yeah, I know. Trust me. Wasn’t my choice at all. *A sigh escaped my lips as I heard the cat calls and whistles from the two guys I came here with and another roll of my eyes soon followed. My shoulders lifted in a casual shrug as I turned my back to the bar and looked out amongst the crowd* Usually, yes. This is the most popular place in town for these crowds. Though I didn’t picture someone of your stature coming out here. Normally it’s humans and vampires that want sex, drugs, or blood. Blood in the vampire case, obviously. *My gaze turned back to @Treasure_BDBRW to see a certain look on her face. One that told me, she didn’t know anything about this place* If I were you, I would stay out of the back room unless you’re looking for one of those three things.

*I couldn’t take my eyes off this female. There was just something… Alluring about here. It was as if she was calling to me and trying to draw me in. Which was dangerous territory since I didn’t let anyone close to me after what happened to me. Even the guys whooping and hollering at me from their booth only knew the basics. My name, my age, where I was from. That was it. I offered no details to anyone. I was sure Havers had told the Brotherhood about my issues since it would have been covered in the medical part but no one had approached me yet. And as much as I wanted to leave, knew I should leave this female alone, my body wouldn’t obey. I was glued to this seat as we were bumped aside by people trying to get to the bar.* So, you from Caldwell originally, Treasure? *I asked, trying to make small talk. Even if I was extremely bad at it*

Treasure: My blush deepened intensely as, much to my dismay, I realized he had in fact heard my little giggle. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any offense. I just… “ I stopped there. There was no way I was explaining to him why I really giggled. What was it about this one male? I had never, ever felt like this before. 75 years and you would have expected I’d experienced every emotion possible. There had been many nights I had thought about what if… but, it had never happened so, I assumed I was immune or something, it wasn’t going to happen to me.  Apparently, I was wrong in that assumption.

I listened quietly as he described all the ‘services’ the club had to offer, cringing internally as he mentioned the blood trade. How harshly would he judge me if he knew that was what I was here for, I wondered. Why did what he think about me matter so much? All these feelings were so new and so raw. I didn’t know how to handle them. So, I did the only thing I could think of and averted my eyes from him by taking a sip of my drink that had just been delivered by the bartender.

After a few moments of trying to collect myself, I finally responded, “No.” I shook my head. “I’m not from here. Just moved here from Colorado about a month ago. How about you? Are you from around here?”

Rahv: *I just shook off the apology. It wasn’t necessary. If I could laugh at my name, so could other people. It was just a name if anything. It’s not like it described me or some bullshit like that. I tipped my beer back, finishing off the alcoholic beverage before I listened to @Treasure_BDBRW speak. So she wasn’t from around here. That shocked me. Normally people stayed away from Caldwell because of the lessers that had seemed to try to take over. Killing civilians where they saw fit. As I motioned for another beer, I thought about where I came from. The dregs of the city. Living in a shitty one bedroom apartment that had holes in the wall and no heat in the winter. A makeshift blanket to cover me up. Not the best way but it made me appreciate everything I had more, for sure.* Come here with family, then? *I heard myself asking before I could stop myself. No, Rahv… Not good to get attached. Not good to try to get to know this female. She wasn’t even here for me anyways. She was here for another male. Her date… Wait she said it wasn’t a date* Sorry, didn’t mean to pry. Just be careful here, okay? Not safe for females to be out alone. Lessers are really bad in this area.

Yeah, I’m from here. Born and raised. *If you could call it raising. I basically raised myself until I got here, to the Brotherhood training program. Hell, that program saved my life or else I would be right back in that shit hole with my parents. I was going to learn how to fight. I was going to make a difference. I was going to be something other than the used garbage I was. The kid only good for a good gang bang once in awhile when my parents needed their fix.* This place is always busy. Doesn’t matter the night. Mostly because Vampires don’t really have what you call normal jobs. At least that’s what I hear. So a lot of them come here for drinks or blood if they aren’t mated. Hell, some mated couples come for a quickie in the back room. *I winced as that came out of my mouth* Sorry. You didn’t need to hear that. Just spilling things my buddies over there have told me. They’ve been here plenty of times.

*And now I made a total ass of myself to quite possibly the most beautiful female I ever would lay eyes on. Not that I was trying to get with her. That was a bad idea all around. No, just making really bad conversation.*

Treasure: As he questioned me about my family, I could feel my shoulders slump slightly. The visions of what my mahmem and Alexandria had been through still fresh in my mind. Lessers. Yeah… I knew about Lessers. If it weren’t for them, my mahmen and Alexandria would still be here. Lessers were the ones that murdered them in the parking lot of the grocery store. It was obvious by the amount of Lesser blood on the ground that they tried to fight back, probably the only thing that saved them from being accosted but, in the end it didn’t matter. They both went off to The Fade, right there on the pavement of the parking lot.

I blinked a couple of times before I pushed the images away and shook my head. “I actually came here looking for family. I heard that some of my family might have relocated here so, I thought I would come here and see if I could find them.” I smiled shyly as Rahvenous commented about not prying. “It’s okay. I don’t mind the questions.” Really? did that just come out of my mouth. Questions lead to more questions, which lead to getting more involved and getting to know someone which wouldn’t be a bad thing ‘cause friends and all but, when I looked into Rahvenous’ eyes, friendship was not the first thing on my mind. Dearest Virgin Scribe! Why put me through this? Why now? Haven’t I always done everything I said I would? Haven’t I always kept my promises? Why now are you trying to make it so hard on me? Why now, when my mahmen isn’t here to help guide me through? I don’t have her strength behind me! Is this some soft of a test?

I shifted the conversation by nodding. “Trust me, I may look like a meek little female but, I’ve lived somewhat of a survivalist’s life. I know how to take care of myself when it comes to Lessers.” It was true. Living in the mountains of Colorado, my mahmen and Alexandria taught me a lot about survival, living off the land and most of all, how to protect myself. It was incredibly important to my mahmen that if something happen to her, I know how to keep myself protected from those that might want to seek me out.

Cocking my head to the side slightly, I was surprised at the notion that most vampires here didn’t have normal jobs. “Really? That’s interesting. Back in Colorado, the vampires I knew did have jobs. Granted, they weren’t nine to fivers but, we had our own little community there. We rarely had to depend on the human world, aside from the normal things…” like a grocery store, “like utilities and things like that…” A small smile crossed my features at Rahvenous’ slight embarrassment of the topic. “As far as all that other stuff, I knew about the blood trade but, that’s about it. I guess the other stuff went on in the bigger cities. Or maybe I just wasn’t aware of it.” That was entirely possible. It wasn’t something of interest to me so, it was highly possible it went on right under my nose and I never saw it.

Rahvenous: Well most of the Glymera live here and they come from old money from the Old Country so I hear. *My shoulders lifted in another shrug as my eyes never left @Treasure_BDBRW. I didn’t know what it was but there was just something about her. Regal almost. She commanded respect and holy hell did I. As I listened to her tell me about how she lived before here, I could only nod my head in awe. You didn’t see women such as her live such lives. They were to be sheltered and protected. They ordered doggen around and had kids. That was it in our society. So the fact that she knew how to survive no matter what instead of being one of these damned damsel in distress types around here made her hot as fuck. Yes, dangerous territory. Very dangerous, Rahvenous. Stop now before you get even more involved.*

*I felt the air shift a bit and when I looked over my shoulder, I saw a male across the club zero in on @Treasure_BDBRW and start making his way over. Fuck. As much as I knew this was a good thing, and probably a sign, I didn’t want to stop talking to her. But I had to in case this male had any sort of feelings towards her. As I finished up my beer, I motioned for another one* Looks like your not date is here. I don’t want to cause an awkward situation so I’ll leave you to it. *I was so awkward and unable to know what to do with these situations. How did you end conversations like this? Oh well, I had done it. I wasn’t as polite as I should have been but I had no idea what I was doing. Sue me*

Treasure: The fact that Rahvenous mentioned that most of the Glymera lived here was incredibly promising to me. If a lot of them lived in this area, chances are the Brotherhood were here, too. The Glymera wouldn’t establish themselves in such large numbers without ensuring their own protection. And if the Brotherhood were here, that would mean my chances of finding more like myself were pretty good… that’s if there were more like me. I still wasn’t sure. Right now, it was all just whispers on the wind.

Suddenly, Rahvenous’ attention shifted and the look in his eyes turned cool. I knitted my brows together and followed his gaze out into the crowd. What I saw was another male approaching, eyes set on me. I swallowed hard, as I had all but forgotten why I had originally come to the club tonight. I wasn’t ready for this conversation to end but, we had about t-minus twenty seconds, tops, before the other male would be upon us. Crap! My mind shuffled as fast as it could trying to pay attention to Rahvenous’ words. But… but… Before I knew what I was doing, I reached out and gently touched his hand. An electric charge shot through me that I wasn’t ready for and it took me a moment to shake it off. I didn’t have time for whatever that was. So, when Rahvenous ended up turning back to me, I leaned in to him and spoke quickly. “Can I see you again?”

Rahvenous: -My eyebrow quirked as this female grabbed my hand. An electric current ran through me as her skin warmed mine on contact. This was a bad sign. Bad, BAD sign. I couldn't be with any female, let alone this one. This one was perfection and I couldn't tarnish her. That would be unforgivable. However, I found it impossible to move my hand away from her soft grip. Walk away, Rahv. I told myself as I stared into those eyes, feeling myself drowning in them yet not wanting to come up for oxygen. Just walk away… Before I could stop myself, I grabbed a napkin and asked the bartender for a pen. I scribbled my number down to the cell phone the brotherhood provided for me- Here. That's how you can reach me, if you want. -With that, I grabbed my beer and turned towards the table my friends sat around, mind still on the perfect, blonde female behind me as a male walked up to her-

Treasure: At first, everything seemed to be move in slow motion, as it seemed to take forever to get a response from Rahvenous. In the meantime, I was completely captivated by his bright blue stare. I could get lost in those eyes. Shit! Treasure, look away! You can’t do this! You shouldn’t have stopped him. You should’ve just let him walk away. Something inside wouldn’t let that happen, though. Something inside had willed my arm to reach out to him. Either way, it was too late. What’s done was done. As I took a quick look over his shoulder, the approaching male seemed to suddenly be moving in double-time and that’s when everything started to blur together. Before I knew it, Rhavenous had passed me a napkin with a number scribbled on it and then he was gone. I didn’t even get a chance to say a quick goodbye. I could feel the disappointment settle my shoulders as I watched him, back to, on his way to the booth his friends were at. I had forgotten about the other male for the moment, until he tapped me on the shoulder. “Treasure?” he questioned.

Taking a breath, I tore my eyes away from Rahvenous’ back, stuffed the napkin into my jacket and looked upon the male. “Lohre?”

He nodded.

I offered my hand to him. “Yes. Hi. I’m Treasure.”

We talked over a few details before he walked me toward the back rooms. As I slipped off the barstool, I shot a quick glance at the booth Rahvenous and his friends were at. Luckily, he wasn’t looking. For some reason, I didn’t want him to see me disappear into the back rooms with this male, just in case he thought it was for any reason other than a blood exchange. Even then, I wasn’t sure I wanted him to know that about me. Why did I care so much about what he thought about me?

Looking up, Lohre and I had arrived at a door to a private room. “Right this way.” He said as he held the door open.

I took another deep breath and stepped inside.

#FirstImpressions #SASBDB

[aleatoryalarmalligator]

Life Story Part 78

The neighbor dad next door liked to drink every night – often in packs of other men just like himself, in the back of his house. Sometimes these nights became violent. We could hear his kids crying, his wife drunkenly screaming for order while causing a fair bit of confusion herself. Once two men fell into our back yard and were grabbling and drunkenly trying to pin one another down in what they must have thought was a high end fight scene in the movie of their sad little lives.

The neighbor dad came over to our house one night and started accusing my brother David of stealing his shitty Coors Light beer. David was not stealing his beer at all of course. There was some other son of one of his friends that was eventually found to be the culprit, but this guy was adamant that it was David, threatening to shoot David if he saw him on his property, as if anyone with any self respect wanted to be seen on his shitty property. He eventually convinced the other men who were just like him in our town that David was coming onto his property to steal his missing beer, his most beloved drink, and they all took to calling David names as they drove by. If we were taking our nightly stroll, men would stumble out of the bar and accuse David of being a thief, and once in awhile they called David a 'dob'. We wondered for years what that might mean. It was all very weird. It seemed like from age thirteen on, other men wanted to fight David. I am not entirely sure why.

David signed up for football. I knew he didn't want to. The only reason he had signed up for football in the first place was because my father had been adamant about it for so many years and David didn't feel like he had the right to say no. It was something deeply personal to my father, some big momentous ordeal that had to be done. I think he felt that David had to live the life that he himself hadn't. He wanted David to become a strong football loving American white man – and not the strange hippie that my father had chosen to be at that same age. He wanted to live those wholesome boring American dream victories vicariously through David, perhaps to stave away the fact that he himself had never left the area he lived in, had two failed marriages, thirty-five failed online relationships, a failed business, a growing reliance on alcohol, and a wasted thirty-five years working at a factory who wanted him gone before he could receive the retirement he deserved.

I knew David didn't want to play sports anymore. Not even boxing really. I was sitting on the computer in the living room one night, as David was sleeping on the couch. David started talking in his sleep. He was panicking in his dream, stating over and over that he didn't want to play football. I looked over alarmed, and he had the look of someone who was drowning. A dream like that speaks volumes. David didn't want to go through with it, but he had already signed up. And it was eating him alive that he was doing this. He wanted to listen to music and collect albums, and read and challenge and critique everything he liked against the world. He had no interest in being brawny or masculine – at least not in the way my father wanted, and he hated everyone far too much to have any ambitions whatsoever. He felt completely outcast, and it happened at a young age all at once. It was harder for him than for me I think. I was born an outsider, and had ambitiously worked my way into a system anyway. I had that humility. David just woke up one day feeling like everything was a lie.

For two weeks David went to practice. His coach was that same foul disgusting man that I remember talking inappropriately about the teenage girls in my class and what he would like to do with them. He had talked about my best friend Ava and her weight. He was a loathsome hideous pretentious sick fucker with a whistle. I don't blame David for hating it. He went to practice for two weeks. They forced the boys to run around the field for a very long time, essentially going for miles or until the boys crumpled, at which point, the football coach would crouch over them and scream in their faces until they pulled themselves up and continued to run. David threw up several times. This didn't in an of itself stop him, but it would have stopped me. And then one day, David quit.

This caused my father to have some kind of meltdown. I remember sitting in the kitchen, and not knowing what had happened. I remember he was grimacing with fury and confusion, and leaning over the kitchen sink and then telling me to leave him alone – as if someone had just died. I thought getting upset because your son isn't going to be a small town football star was exceedingly lame. Later he blamed me almost entirely, as he had started to catch on that I had become a cold undermining force to him. His younger kids listened to me, not him. I guess there had been a fight, and David had said to my dad 'STOP TRYING TO LIVE THROUGH ME!'. Which did sound like a very 'me' thing to say, but it was all David. I think anyone around could see the dynamics for what they were. And if it was me, I feel very little sympathy. David's dream self was telling him not to play football, which to me means serious business. You don't fuck with dream stuff. It knows you in a way you don't. Plus, the world has too many 7th grade football players. It really does.

Of course, I wasn't happy with David either, but for different reasons. He went from being a sweet considerate person to being malicious towards Allison and I. It was getting harder to deal with, and I was trying not to hate him, but that resolve was breaking. I just couldn't go between two different realities, my brother as one of my best friends and my brother as someone who wanted to really hurt me. We ended up going up to my grandmother's house in my mother's van. My grandma was trying to get rid of her possessions. She had collected a lot over the years in her line of business. She couldn't sell things on eBay they way she used to. She was tired of packaging and shipping books. Plus, some weird asshole priest in town had taken it upon himself to see that the St. Vincent de Paul shut down – somehow in the complexity of the tax world this was going to financially benefit him personally. And that left my grandma out of work. So she was giving a lot of it away to my mother, who is almost a hoarder.

We drove up there, and a lot of it was work we couldn't really do. My uncle who remodels homes for a living, was also up there at my grandma's, remodeling a part of my grandma's house. It was kind of strange to see that room go. It was a special room full of crafts and beads. Different little tiny shelves went up to the ceiling, each one had a different kind of item inside. As a child I had been mesmerized and wanted to get into everything. He changed that room into something far more spacious – it's a better room ultimately, but for nostalgia reasons I will always miss the old room.

During our three or four day visit, we would sleep on the floor, and wake up early in the morning to the sun beaming down on us and to the snotty little noses of the Yorkies who excitedly sniffed us and licked our faces. On the second to last day of our visit, our uncle Rick wanted to take us rafting down the small river close to where my grandma lived. I was skeptical, as our last rafting trip had been pretty terrible with our father, but given that Rick had all the proper equipment and boats for all of us to use, and the fact that the water was manageably shallow – it wasn't some major north American river, just a forgettable small one, I eventually felt more optimistic.

My uncle Rick is an alcoholic/workaholic. He never had children, and he once told me this was intentional, as his alcoholism would destroy his kid's childhoods the way that my mother and her brother's childhood had been ruined by their own father. I don't particularly think my uncle Rick is all that great, but for some reason this answer was one of the most socially responsible and respectable answers I had ever heard come from someone in my family. It made sound sense to me.

Rick would work very rough jobs that gave him a lot of money and that took up most of his time. He was very anal about his work, and if you were trying to help him but weren't, he would shoo you away in a hostile fashion. After a job well done he would take that money and buy alcohol with it, get into insane fights, wreck his cars and get massive DUI's which cost him just about all the money he could have ever saved from the job he was doing, which would intern require of him to work even harder – causing him to stress and feel like drinking, and when he drank his life would fall apart rapidly and it all would happen over and over again. He will die an alcoholic. He even used to run his own AA meetings back in the 90's when he had a few years under his belt of sobriety – so he knows full and well what he is doing.

For some reason my uncle Rick reminds me intensely of my mother and father mixed together. It's uncanny and weird. He's not related to my father of course, whom I am sure sees nothing of himself in any member of his ex wife's family. But it's true. They are similar. And the differences are made up with the similarities he has with my mom – his sister. It's truly weird to me. The only addition to the mix is that he's a worse alcoholic than either of them. For this reason, I see him as a sort of parent to me, though I have never told him this, as it's a half handed compliment. Not that we are super close, but he's the complete hybrid of those two people who brought me into the world for whatever reason. And he's probably right, if he had kids he would ruin their lives. But since he didn't bring me into the world, I don't really have to hate him.

We ended up going on this rafting trip which was a lot of fun. Allison and I shared our boat. My uncle Rick and David shared another, and my mom was given her own. My mother didn't heed his warning that you should avoid the rocky shallow parts, since the rocks will eventually find a way to break a hole in your inner tube boat, and she felt sheepish and had to get in one of our boats when her boat collapsed. It all worked out though. It was a fifteen mile stretch of a shallow river/large creek (I don't know which). It was a perfect temperature. It was relaxing, and beautiful. All around us we saw fish in the clear water, and deer. I put it down as one of my more cherished wholesome memories – unconnected to anything sinister or complex. Just me out in the water. It is weird at moments of simple clarity and softness in living that I wondered about how I had stayed up all night contemplating suicide from a academic standpoint, or trying to make sense of human nature in my thought so it could be corrected. It was rare that I ever just had a day like that.

David ended up throwing this massive hateful tantrum towards me. He freaked out over a game of monopoly, and I don't remember what happened from there, but he was acting really rude and mean towards us. My blood pressure was up. I wanted to slam him in the face, but that wasn't something I was going to do now. I didn't want to do that ever again actually. So I kept my calm. I also could tell that he was trying to upset me and Allison. He wanted to see tears, and he was going at any length to get those tears. I was eventually made so mad I was afraid to speak, afraid to give him the satisfaction of upsetting me. I just pretended that he wasn't getting to me. Actually, it was really hurting me. It was disappointing me and making me feel horrible, and I didn't even know how to comprehend it. Eventually, as we were packing the van on the last day he caused some kind of chaotic issue with Allison and refused to pack this van. It wasn't a matter of packing your average van. It was like, two hours of work. And he just refused to help. My mother's back was out, and David said he would scream if Allison went out there – so my mother relented and sent Allison inside. If David had instead decided on going inside, seeing as he refused to be of service, this would have made it easier for Allison to come out and help, but he was intentionally setting it up so that I had to pack the van by myself.

My grandma watched, and I could tell she was frustrated. David had a way of using domestic terrorism to get his way. Everyone was afraid of him when he turned into this person. All the same, I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of frustration or tears. So for three hours, I worked up a huge sweat, my muscles tingling as I packed all of my mother's hoarder stuff into the van box by box, bag by bag, furniture piece by furniture piece. On the way back, Allison and David lived buried in stuff. They had only a little bit of breathing room. They must have resented the fact that I always got to sit in front, account of the fact that I was bigger than them, and the fact that I have always suffered extreme car sickness, making it inevitable I would be put up front anyway.

I packed the van, and while I did it David would glare at me and laugh at me and stick his face out at me like I should punch him. He sat there intentionally looking at me working, getting some weird satisfaction from sitting and doing nothing. Of course, maybe this was some kind of punishment for how I had babysat when I was thirteen years old. But I was twenty-one now! If we are all to suffer the consequences at the age of twenty-one, eight years after the fact, the god help us all. I was infuriated, but I somehow learned to use that fury and turn it into one psychotic grimacing smile. I held back, and when I finally had a half of a house worth shoved into the back of the van, I ran to the back room of my grandma's house, flopped face first into the blankets where my mother had slept on the floor, and just extruded this agonized fury in silence. I opened my mouth and nothing came out – only some black evil smoke that I had been holding in for several hours as I whistled past David. I closed my eyes and vividly imagined popping someone's eyes out of their sockets, clawing away at skin, snapping off fingers and toes. I had somehow held into this rage that was almost too much for me to bear. I felt shaky and weak and disoriented. And something emotionally strained in me broke. I loved David, but I didn't see him as my friend anymore. He was an enemy. He was old enough to know he was ruining the relationships he had with everyone around him and he didn't care. I had rarely if ever felt so hurt and frustrated as I had then. I could hear my mother's pampering voice in the kitchen, trying to appease him. I realized that ultimately, Allison and I were going to have to work around him, just like we worked around our parents. He was toxic. I hadn't let go of him as my brother. But I sort of knew from then on that things were going to go south for us. It had already started, and there was no way for me to reverse it.

At around this very same time, a totally bizarre situation happened, and it changed our family's dynamic forever. My dad had started occasionally visiting the local bars both in Kendrick and Juliaetta, a small town not far from there. He had met this young woman, this very young woman – only two or three years older than me. My father had just turned sixty. He didn't look that old – he still looked like he was in his late forties, but he was indeed  sixty. It's not illegal, and I am not in the business of judging what two consenting adults do, but I really don't see a twenty three year old woman and a sixty year old man have in common. They had literally nothing in common. They had no shared interests or experiences. They didn't even really know how to talk to one another. She seemed confused and unstable. She had two kids, and a sad story and she needed a place to stay. I don't know if my father honestly deluded himself into thinking that he was going to be some kind of hero in a nonromantic way towards her, or if he had it in mind all along. He will always point to the woman and say it was her who initiated the relationship.

It started out he just gave her some money to help her out. He told me about it, chuckled nervously and assured me they weren't going to be in a relationship. And then she was calling him and soon they were suddenly an item. It all happened literally within a week. I remember the day it happened, and it was so strange. I had spent the day out in Lewiston with Sarah. We had listened to the Tom Waits record 'Heartattack and Vine' and Mr. Seigel had played. I ended up getting Mr. Seigel stuck in my head over and over again. And somehow I knew like, reality had shifted. Something had cracked to pieces and things were going to begin shifting all around me relatively rapidly. I didn't associate it with anything, I just knew everything was wrong, but it wasn't the kind of wrong you cry about or try to understand. It's the kind of wrong that has pushed the wheel towards sheer absurdism. You laugh in self defense because nothing makes any fucking sense anymore. Down is up. Something in the back of my head just tingled.

So I went in, and my father said that Crystal was going to be living in our house now with her two little boys, and she was suddenly just going to be the wife I guess? It was very weird. This woman was my age. Her father had sexually abused her, and she could never stop talking about it. It was very tragic. She was obsessed with older men who played some kind of role that her father had played. She literally talked about her father every single night. I don't really feel like this was wrong per say, but like, shame on my fucking dad. This in a way went beyond anything he had ever managed to do. It didn't even really effect me that badly. I just looked at this strange sister-mom and felt bad for her and thought my dad was a disturbed fucking idiot for bringing her in the house. I knew then and there too that he would never learn. Because he always was some kind of expert at the end of each failed relationship, and he always went on and on about how they were bad and he was good and he had learned his lesson. He imparted all kinds of confusing and harmful and clueless rhetoric. But never had I thought he would date someone this young, someone so obviously dealing with mental illness – someone who was literally looking for an old man to take her father's place in some horrible abusive scenario she kept reliving every day of her life. I remember just coming in the house and starting at my father straight in the face and shaking my head. He couldn't even go against me for that.

At the same time, he was in some kind of existential crisis because David had quit football. He had only now decided to see David's behavior as some kind of problem, conveniently when he wanted to punish David for something entirely stupid. David was staying up later than normal, which is totally normal for thirteen year olds. Furthermore, my father sometimes kept us up till midnight, so he was also just as guilty of letting us stay up late on school nights. But my father had his douchebag pants on I guess, and when he was in the upstairs hallway, he looked into David's bedroom and saw that David was awake. He started shouting at David to go to FUCKING BED!!!!! like a lunatic, and then David gave him some attitude, and My father lunged at David, grabbed him by the neck and slammed him against the wall and punched him in the face and accused him of being a 'faggot homosexual'. Then he kicked David out.

I only found out later on, once David's side of the story came to light. My father was very vague about the entire thing. I later found out the reason that he kicked David out was in part because Crystal thought David was 'weird'. My father was so insecure and was so embarrassed to have a nonfootball playing son who some local hillbilly woman-child of low intellect that he barely knew for two weeks had thought his own son, whom he had spent his entire life raising – and though indeed flawed, didn't deserve to be kicked out or abandoned or abused by his father for the very personal choice of choosing not to partake in school sports was worth throwing away on behalf of. I looked at this entire situation with absolute disgust. Despite my issues with David, he really did get fucked over. And if you haven't learned better by the age of sixty, you will never ever learn. You will forever be that hopeless.

I had actually been secretly planning to send Allison to live with our mother up till the point where David got there first. Between my father and brother, Allison's life was getting pretty shitty. I wanted her to experience a new school, to maybe find opportunities somewhere else. I knew the ship was sinking. Crystal was not the cause of it, she was just an indication. I didn't hate her at all. It was weird because we were both so close in age, I would invite her to take walks with us at night, and she would generally talk about her abusive childhood, drifting between idealizing how great it all way, and feeling abused and empty. I just listened to her. Her sons were totally unruly, but I learned to appreciate them as well for what they were. I knew Crystal couldn't help what she was doing really. She had little to no experience outside of bars and living in the middle of nowhere with old cowboys. She had never visited a big city before. She told me that she thought that the horror movie, The Ring was real. She thought all horror movies were real because she couldn't fathom that anyone could think something like that with their own imaginations.

The family unit was combusting. I knew I would be fine because wherever I went, Sarah and Allison were still my family. I suddenly found myself certain I would be getting out of there. Whenever I was feeling unsure of myself, I realized that I almost didn't have a choice, and Sarah was pushing me along and helping me so much. Compared to me, she seemed so organized and sociable and competent. As for David, what could I say? It's not that I didn't love David or worry about him. I wanted to beat my father's brains out for hurting him. But he really was on his own because every time I tried to get close he attacked me or Allison and it got to where saw him as a threat, though not as an enemy. There was nothing further I could do for him. I was really sorry because I knew that we were at this pivotal point where, the things that were going to happen in the coming year or so were going to effect and ripple throughout the rest of his life. The decisions he made now was going to shape his future in a way that was going to cause him to struggle horribly when he got older and realized the consequences of it all.

When David lived at my mother's I only got tidbits of their altercations. Eventually David shoved my mother, but then again, maybe it was my mother that shoved David? I couldn't tell the truth. Because my mother was having some kind of crisis, and so was David and they were both at each other's throats. And then, my mom started telling me that she had called the cops on David. David denied this ever happened. I know that it did a few times because I remember him saying so himself. But then again, my mother really could be lying. Talking about it now with anyone is hard because everyone's memory is warped by intense emotions. I knew the  both of them to be half crazy. I also know my mom – if she finds out someone wants to hit her she does everything in her power to make them hit her. I remember once fighting with her and she started screaming with this big wicked smile on her face 'HIT ME!!! HIT ME!!!' and I just looked at her with confusion and disgust. Like she was putting her cheek out at me, and it was beyond stupid. She wanted to get the satisfaction of believing herself to be a victim. It's my mom's thing. She's always a victim. I just looked at her and said 'What the hell? I am not going to hit my own mother.' I felt bad if I even cussed at her, even when she full out deserved it. It's just not in my nature to get in the hog pin with my mom. It's debasing and unclassy and ultimately giving into this notion that my life was and forever would be so small, that conquering her pathetic self with an arrogant and mindless jab in the face in our dirty ass kitchen  was the most I could ever hope for. I just had to keep my eye above them all. My revenge would be my freedom from it someday. I had to look to the great big beautiful and mysterious world I lived in and not into the abysmal eyeballs of these maniacs that I called family. I wanted to transcend them, not give into their awful ways.

David stopped going to school. A lot of it was my mother's fault. She didn't really care at first – probably didn't get him where he needed to be because she couldn't understand that you need to keep your kids in school. But then it became a legal issue, and David still refused to go to school and they had fights about it. He wasn't old enough to be making this decision for himself, and yet he was because nobody was in his life to create any kind of stability for him. My dad had thrown him by the wayside for Crystal's minor convenience. My mother was a selfish and distracted chaos queen. He was too young to even realize the consequences of not going to school. But on the other hand, how can I really blame David? I myself stayed in school only because I am thirty percent more afraid of authority than David was, and I had friends and romantic interests that kept me curious about my school life. I barely hung on by a thread, and if I hadn't had those things I might have stopped going altogether as well. David didn't have those minor favors that I did. And at his very same age, I only went to school half the time as it was. I just did it differently, and I went to a school that nobody in a position of state power was going to step in and force me to go to. Idaho is one of the most ungoverned states. You wouldn't believe the kinds of things people get away from outside of the major cities.

At around this same time, my sister Roxanne and her husband Jeremy split up. It was a long time coming, too long a time. Jeremy had become more and more violent and abusive each passing day. He raped Roxanne. He was selling drugs, and he was prepping Sagen, Roxanne's daughter to molest her. At one point, shortly before Roxanne had reached this point with him where she couldn't handle it anymore, her second youngest daughter Hayley, who was only six at the time woke up from a night terror and Jeremy ran in there, grabbed her off the ground by her hair mid sleep, and shoved her against the wall violently. All for having cried out loud in her sleep – which woke him up. The guy deserved to be dead in my book. I couldn't visit there anymore because Jeremy was such a horrible person I couldn't hold it in anymore. My mother had called CPS on Roxanne with my strong eager encouragement, and she had lost her three children she had with her ex, Jody. Jody was also awful, but not a cruel and sadistic monster like Jeremy. I mean, I would cross the street to avoid him for sure, but I wouldn't wish death on him. Sagen Roxanne kept, since Sagen was older and had more say in where she went, and Roxanne's youngest little girl, Meliah she kept as well. Meliah was temporarily kept with Jeremy's sister, who was strangely normal compared to her folks.

It all ended I guess when Jeremy, whilst high on meth, held a knife to Roxanne's neck and threatened to kill her, as he believed she was stealing his drugs. He held her hostage, and eventually one of his friends had to tackle him down to get Roxanne free. So Roxanne finally told him to leave. And at first, we were all relieved. She had been with Jeremy for nearly six years, and every time I thought about what Roxanne and Jeremy were both putting those kids through, whenever I tried to contemplate what Roxanne was going through I felt this sick jab in my chest. It was strange to see how Roxanne had evolved from the hyperactive little girl she had been into this adult. I loved Roxanne a great deal. I believe her bright personality is part of the reason I get excited and feel up for anything. And of course I liked her. But given the damage she was doing and had done to her children at the behest of a man, it was hard to feel like I could warm up to her. So we all thought that Jeremy was the key element in her life, and if he was gone everything would get better. It's not what happened.

Jeremy had kept Roxanne on drugs, but he had always been the master of the drugs and he chose how much she used and how often – in order to keep her competent enough to take care of the chores and the kids. With him gone, Roxanne was able to use all the meth and pills she wanted without him controlling her doses. And then she and Sagen started using together. It was crushing to hear about. Sagen had literally won an award at her school, hand signed by Barack Obama for her gifted intelligence and her excellence as a student. People had seen her as some future lawmaker or someone of great future thinker. Her principal cared about her on a very personal level. So when Roxanne got her own twelve year old daughter on meth with her, we were all besides ourselves. I couldn't believe it. And then soon Sagen just stopped going to school altogether. The state tried to tie her down. They tried to give her to her father, but she ran away. Sagen's father had molested her, and had very little to do with her life, and she hated him. She stole from him and fled. When she ran away, Sagen's father had the audacity to write the Dr. Phil show and told Dr. Phil about Sagen's behavior, and the show actually offered to fly her over with her parents and have it out on the show, which Sagen refused. It was so crazy. Like, I can imagine how absurd it would have looked. Sagen would have randomly called her father out as a molester, and Dr. Phil would have tried to throw her in some kind of boot camp or rehab or something in between. This is just how far my family's madness had gone. Dr. Phil wanted us on his show! I mean, not me obviously as my problems largely manifested themselves internally in a way that would not make for that great of entertainment. But that general anxiety and dysfunction permeated pretty much throughout everyone in our family.

To bring this down to the more mundane, and to mention something before I forget. All that summer, and well into the fall, Allison and David owned rabbits. They joined some kind of FFA rabbit club, that was run by this really creepy dude named Frank that lived at the end of town. Frank had always been this guy on Halloween that dressed in a gorilla suit, all four hundred pounds of him, and chased kids. He chased me when I was five, and it almost scared me to the point where I had to stop trick or treating. I imagine this might have bent my bias against him. He was well known to walk about town until he found someone to talk their ear off, and he thought of himself as an inventor, though he never invented anything.

Allison started talking to his son Wayne, this very heavy kid in her class who was always cruel to due to his weight and I was always prodding her to be nice to him. I had watched him once when he was five in the store. He was always a very outgoing and nerdy boy, and had always been fat. He came up to some girls who were my age to show them some toys he liked. He was absolutely innocent and adorable, and they had pretty much called him names and were incredibly cruel towards him. I remember seeing the look of hurt on his face, and when Allison was in his class, I always urged her to go against the grain and be nice to him. From a very early age, he learned that he wasn't equal to anyone else, and it was massively fucked up. He never was a very good friend to Allison however. He was guarded and kind of crazy. I mean, he wasn't awful – just kind of know-it-allish, and it turned out he was obsessed with Stalin and dictators and most definitely voted for Donald Trump in the last election, and that was really weird.

Allison got this Dutch lop. He was a soft and adorable. If you turned him on his back and cradled him like a baby he would close his eyes. Rabbits are very simple creatures though. I loved him, but we never could do much with him, and it felt weird to keep him locked in a cage his whole life. It's not the way rabbits should live. We also had to make sure he ate the right stuff. My father ended up feeding him some bulb plants at first and it nearly killed him. And it turned out being gay. It never would mate with other rabbits, and got frenzied with disturbing rabbit lust and slobbered sexually whenever it was around other males. He was normally a very soft cuddly creature, but when Allison took him to the fair that year, he hopped across the table and began attempting to forcefully mate with the other rabbits, and it became this huge fiasco at the local fair that nobody will ever forget. David ended up getting this English lop, which are huge, and have the big ears. At first the English lop was really cute, but he soon became vicious. He would attack you if you got near him. He was hard to feed, and he would look at you and bite the cage with his teeth. We ended up having to give him back.

Allison and David eventually left the Rabbit Club. Frank was getting really weird for the both of them. David's rabbit went mad being caged up and full of hormones, so he gave the rabbit back and left the club. I think Frank ate that poor boy. David just remembers staring at Frank as he was conducting a meeting, and Frank had this insane smile on his face. One of his toes was infected and green and there were flies eating away at it. David looked up at Frank, who know that David had been looking at his toe, and he smiled into David's eyes – sort like 'see?' Which was a very disturbing for David. He imagined that Frank was perhaps secretly feeding the flies on purpose or something, and liked the flies eating the infection of his toe. They were literally covering the wound.

Allison's rabbit we found a home for with one of my father's girlfriends. She had a big space for the fuzzy guy, and as far as I know he lived a happy life – considering. Allison left too because Frank and his wife wouldn't stop trying to force Allison to date Wayne, and that got very strange for everyone. Frank was so forward about it, he would talk as though Allison and Wayne were going to keep up his legacy together, and one time accused Allison and Wayne of 'humping in the back of the pick up as Wayne's parents drove' something foul and crude and it just made everyone really uncomfortable. Frank was very good at being just the most uncomfortable person. He always said the most disturbing things. His house was filthy and he kept his rabbits in inhumane conditions. The inside was filled with the filth of rabbit, and they never did the dishes. Allison just didn't want to go there anymore.

On the upside, David caught a kitten around Wes's house, the guy my mother took care of for a living. I haven't mentioned it a lot, but all three of us, me, Allison and David spent a lot of our time at Wes's for those years – mostly going with our mom and leaving with her after her work was done for the evening. It was sort of boring – the walls were stained with nicotine, there were always old westerns playing on television, occasionally some gross old perverted man would stop by for a visit. But Wes was kind of a member of our family. And he bought us things. He wasn't shouting that my mother marry him or any of that disturbing stuff anymore. He paid my mom's bills though, which was kind of weird. It really amazes me just how often my mother has gotten other people to pay her bills. She works hard, but spends hard and often is low on money, but she always found a way. Wes's was ultimately a lot nicer than staying at our mom's for the day. Wes in his wheel chair and his scratchy voice, usually getting slight better from some illness that had really taken him down. He would buy us shrimp dinners and give us birthday money and jobs to get paid for outside. After his previous animal companion had been killed by getting ran over, he bought a new dog. Her name was Samantha, and she is by far the most well mannered easy going creature I ever met. She was half Chow, half Newfoundland. She was all black, and there was absolutely nothing that would upset her in anyway. She was very fat because she had a thyroid issue and Wes kept feeding her sandwiches and KFC. We often had to shave her in the summer because it was too hot for her, and she looked like a gray ridiculous potato. Thankfully dogs don't know what they look like – otherwise she might have been a bit embarrassed.

The kitten that David managed to catch was a stray male cat. I asked if I could keep it and my father said yes. I had had a kitten the year before. But that neighbor dad drunk had caught her and sent her to the pound because he didn't want her to grow up and beat his outdoor cat up, Tux, whom he had declawed. Her name had been Frances, and to this day I am slightly furious. I had a collar on her and everything. You can't just go taking people's cats to the pound. Anyway, this new kitten I named Nim, after Nimue from Arthurian Legend. I believe it was Merlin's lover, if my memory serves me well. But then we found out a month later that Nimue was a boy, so I shortened it to Nim. It was nice to have a kitten to take care of.

Nim eventually grew to be very aggressive though. He went wild and ripped into me one day with the intent to kill me. My mother came over to pick up once, and he bit her so hard she needed stitches. He was nobody's favorite cat. And he had pica, which sounds cute but is actually a disease that causes cats to eat stuff they aren't supposed to neurotically. The delight in question was my little sister Allison's sausage curl locks. Never anyone else's hair, only hers. While she slept, he would creep up to her face and begin eating her curly black hair. She would wake up in the night with half of her hair literally wet with his saliva and chew up. It was aggressive and simultaneously like he was nursing I noticed as I watched him in horror a few times. Allison's whole face would be covered in Nim's drool and it smelled. We slept in the same bed, so eventually I stayed up and waited for him to guard her against such intrusions. I would take him and throw him off her, and he would immediately run manically back up to her head and begin chewing aggressively whilst looking me dead in the eye, and I would throw him off. It became a war where I blocked him as he attempted obsessively to get to her hair. Eventually, he sort of gave up, but I had to keep waking up occasionally to make sure he wasn't up to trouble.

PART 77 - https://tinyurl.com/yc8bathg

PART 76 - https://tinyurl.com/y95kx2bo

PART 75 - https://tinyurl.com/y9afl9of

PART 74 - https://tinyurl.com/ydfkomx9

PART 73 - https://tinyurl.com/y6vy2jeu

PART 72 - https://tinyurl.com/yaegqs9x

PART 71 - https://tinyurl.com/y6v3ln9a

My Life Story in Chapters, PARTS 1-70 (this link below will lead you to a list of all the chapters i have written thus far).

http://aleatoryalarmalligator.tumblr.com/post/168782771574/life-story-sections-1-70