#we're all in the loony bin with you

[once-more-with-anxiety]

the most fun part of shipping to me is that you can literally do anything with it. who cares what other people think? we're all mentally ill people who are obsessing over fictional people. why does anybody even give a shit

[i-smoke-chapstick]

‘SAILOR SONG,

-THEPENGUIN!SOFIA FALCONE X READER-

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; You run into Sofia at Berto’s funeral. You’re the only one who can calm her down.

⋆ tags/warnings. sofia falcone x female reader. ANGST AND COMFORT!! Might make this a series if anyone likes it enough <3 she’s my literal BABY im so in love with her it makes me want to kms! she deserves SO much better i just wanna give her a hug (and a kiss). slight homophobia mentions, past relationships (but unclear), THE HANGMAN!!!!! Based on 1x2, bertos funeral ! she is my girlfailure wife and i need her

♫ “Begging, baby, would you please? / Do the things you said you'd do to me. / And when we're getting dirty, I forget all that is wrong / I sleep so I can see you 'cause I hate to wait so long.” Sailor Song by Gigi Perez

High tides. That’s what Gotham is, after the haunted return of the Batman. At least, that’s all you see around you now. Theres blood in the water, and the sharks have all come to hunt.

You think it’s all bullshit. The bat, the Riddler, this fucking funeral. You hardly knew the man, and you know it’s a waste of time. Everyone dressed in black here is only cutting their losses. It’s all out of fear. Berto was unabashedly himself. And that was weak. He tried too hard to be his father.

You scan the funeral, which might as well be a party for some of these fuckers, and hold your breath. Okay, maybe you’re more upset than you’d like to admit. Nihilism appeases the soul where optimism does not. You’d only had very few conversations with him, but he was…nice, to some extent.

It’s a day of mourning. And that’s what you do. Memories come to you in unsafe and ungrateful waves, alerting you of every interaction you’d ever had with the man of the night.

“Hey, so,” He scratched the side of his head with his index finger. “Wha- What’s up with you and my sister?” A bitter smile on his face, nose scrunched in faux curiosity. You’d known better. You grew up your entire life in Gotham, and you had known a thinly veiled threat when you’d heard it.

“Sofia?” You’d asked, lighting a cigarette. The sunset flooded through Italy’s streets. It wasn’t your first summer here. You took a long drag of smoke, thinking of how to phrase your answer. The Falcones weren’t stupid, none of them were, not really. “Nothing.” You settled on, dabbling it out in the ash tray. “Why?”

You’d expected some bullshit to fly from his mouth. The family…That you were an outsider. That whatever the two of you had going on was distasteful. A woman and a woman. Not a good look in the papers. Weak willed woman frolicking together in Gotham’s underground. You expected him to insult you, and her. What would their father think?

But Alberto didn’t say anything like that.

“If you hurt her,” He began, and you felt yourself visibly recoil. “I’ll have to, you know,” He motioned with his hands, forming a gun with his forefinger against his temple, and a pew sound. “Pop your top.”

Returning to yourself, you find it in yourself to be greatful. For Alberto, not ratting the two of you out. Whatever you two had…was more than the both of you ever managed to let on. Small touches here and there, kisses when you played house. Laughing underneath streetlamps, painting her nails. And then she got locked up in Arkham. Your best…friend.

And now she’s finally released. Idiots with poster boards outside begging for her return to the loony bin. She’s somewhere in this house, on the same floor as you.

You mindlessly sip on your glass. Alchohol is your real friend tonight. The undergrounds in shambles, the entire city is. What’s stopping you from leaving? You don’t know. Not until you see her.

She trails in the room, and the first thing you hear are overwhelming whispers. You don’t pay attention to them, how could you? Her hair tied up messily, sticky bangs and beads of sweat on her forehead. Her makeup is neat, but just barely smudged.

She’s bug eyed as she enters, chest heaving in…anger? fear? She pays much more attention to the whispers than you do, you realize.

“She’s crazy,” You hear from behind you. Faces hide behind there glasses and hands, leaning down and gossiping amongst themselves. It makes you sick. She makes you sick. Even more so, as she seems to lose herself. It starts with a small bite, digging at the finger food, before she picks up heaps of it in her palms. Over and over and over again…

“That’s enough,” You whisper, sternly, grabbing her forearm. Her mouth almost drops open with the food, eyes widening even more. She stops chewing, and for a moment, it seems everything and everyone is finally scilenced.

She doesn’t say a word in her shock, her arm falling down. She lets you guide her out the room, and the both of you ignore the comments from passerbys.

When you finally reach an empty room, you close the door. Her blood runs cold, and she’s perpelled to the edge of the room, like a cornered and vulnerable prey animal.

“What are you doing here?” Sofia drawls, clearing her throat. Her cheeks are tinged pink from embarassment, and her nose twitches in frustration.

“I knew him too.”

“No, you didn’t.” She remarks, firm in her stance. Her jaw is clenched tight, and you sigh. You make your way over to a couch, sitting down lazily. It doesn’t feel how it used to.

“Yeah, I didn’t. But I got an invitation.”

She ignores you. Straight to the point.

“You’ve heard. What they are saying about me, out there.”

“Hard not too.”

She scoffs, letting out a hmph noise. She turns away from you, blinking.

“Well. Do you believe it?” She tests, arms crossed. You feel your eyebrows scrunch, and you give her a once over. You want to scream at her, that she isn’t crazy. That whatever she’s done isn’t her fault, not completely. But you can’t claw the words out- not after not seeing her in years.

“You do, don’t you?” She continues. She stops pacing the room to take a seat parallel to you. You bite your tongue.

A beat of silence, and something in her dark eyes takes it as your final answer. Theres something deeper, darker swirling in them you can’t quite place. She’s not the same girl you knew as a child.

“No,” You whisper, finally, and watch her perk up. “You’re not crazy.”

She stays silent as she looks at you disbelievingly. Like you’re saying it simply to appease her. You find it in yourself to let the tension melt away, leaning back into the cushions.

“You don’t need help.” You affirm, and her expression is unreadable. “You aren’t broken. Or whatever those fuckhead doctors told you in Arkham. You’re just…” You trail off, needing to word this right. “You’re just your fathers daughter.”

You expect her to ask ‘what thats supposed to mean?’ but she doesn’t. No…she looks too vulnerable in this light to fight back against you. Again, silence sounds, and you wonder if you’ve made a mistake.

It’s only when she speaks, voice trembling, do you see her resolve break.

“Why didn’t you visit me?” It’s quiet, almost a whimper, and her voice breaks. “In Arkham?”

There it is. The question you’d been dreading, mostly because you didn’t know the answer yourself.

Her eyebrows are pulled together, nails clenched into her own skin. You go to tear them from her palms, opening them up to find the marks. She doesn’t say a word. She makes no move to push you away. She’s too tired. She’s greiving, her father, her mother, her brother, her sanity.

You lean down, and press a gentle kiss to her nails. A strangled sound is ripped from her at the action, and you notice how her eyes turn glossy. You decide to ignore the question for now, watching tears finally slip from her eyes. She’d been holding them in for what felt like forever. But not with you, she finds, she could never hide anything from you.

You pull her in, embracing her for all its worth. She immeadiatley falls into you, open mouthed sobs against your shoulder. You hug her tight, and it feels blissful. After so long of only seeing her on TV reports and pictures, touching her, feeling her, is heavenly. Just like it used to be.

She still smells the same. Her makeup runs as she cries into your shoulder, and you gently hush her. You pet her head and hair, cradling her like she’s fragile glass about to break. She’s yours. You’re hers. You always have been.

Rocking her back in forth, you place a kiss on her forehead. When she leans into you, you place more. Soft little pecks across her skin, to her head, wrist. You kiss all her tears away as they fall. Sweet and salty, wetting your lips. You feel her try to catch her breath.

She pulls away from you, hair messy. Her lips are parted, and her pupils blown, and theres a silent promise in the air between the two of you. I’m with you. Im on your side. I am the woman who wants you to win.

Her hand trails to your cheek, and she looks at you worshipfully. Her eyes flit to your lips, as if asking, begging for just one.

You nod. You could never deny her anything. She leans in, tentiavley, before connecting your lips. Memories flash through your head. She tastes the same, acacia honey and cigarette smoke. Besides yourself, you deepen the kiss, and she responds tenfold.

Her hands thread through your hair with a gentle tug, as if there is a feral need buried underneath her skin, to possess you. Remind herself you are here, and you are hers, not an illusion. Not a nightmare. She would kill for you.

You have to almost fight her to part for air, pulling away with heavy breaths. She doesn’t let you get far, resting her forehead against yours.

For better or for worse, she has stuck her claws in you. You realize she will not let you go. Not tonight. Not tommorrow. Not ever.

Breath intermingling, her body heat radiating against yours, you can’t find it in yourself to care.

You stay like that, unanswered questions still plaguing the silence. You’ll answer them one day. For now, you choose only to lose yourselves in one another.

You regret not telling Alberto the truth before he died. She’s not nothing to you. She’s everything.

[witherby]

Hello! I was just wondering if we could get some more Punchline + Joker Junior content? I absolutely loved the first fic you did about them. Take all the time you need, don't rush 💓

I loooove these two and I'm happy to write for them some more! Hope you enjoy!

Punchline: Bonded Pair

3900+ words

⚠️ mention of unsafe living conditions, lack of self preservation instincts, parentification, technically kidnapping?, and threats of death/injury ⚠️

Masterlist is Here!

Popsy's been gone for more than two days, which means Batsy hauled him off to the loony bin again.

You and your brother have to fend for yourselves until he comes back, which is fine. It's a monthly occurrence. You know you have to lie low and not cause trouble when Popsy's away because that's Popsy's job. The best little kiddos are the ones that are neither seen nor heard unless otherwise ordered, he always says, and you're the best of the best!

So, instead of prepping explosives and building elaborate traps, you walk soundlessly across the hideaway to go find your most favoritest person in the whole world.

The concrete of the warehouse is cold under your bare feet and you can hear sirens in the distance. You dance around barrels of firearms and explosive materials, dodge the scurrying rats and roaches littering the floor, and climb up walls and broken ladders with ease to reach the upper floors where your brother is hiding.

Getting up onto the rafters, you spread your arms for balance and toe along the beams. You spot your target hunched over a small pile of scraps and tech across the way and approach him with a grin. You hold in a snicker as you make to leap on top of him, but at the last second he turns and grabs you around the waist with a grin.

"Gotcha!" He cheers. You squirm in his hold, laughing.

"No fair! No fair! How'd ya know I was coming!?"

"Felt the bar wobbling." JJ sets you down and taps the rafter. You feel the subtle vibrations under your hands when you touch the metal and click your tongue, disappointed. You'd get him next time. "What's up? Besides us, ha!"

"Bored!" You scurry past him and grab up what he was working on, holding it up to the moonlight trickling between the busted roof panels. "Whatcha makin' today? Can I help? Can I, can I?"

JJ chuckles and beckons for the device. You comply, handing it over and sitting down right next to him. He holds it in such a way that you can see everything he's doing, always happy to share with you and always happy to explain. That's one of the reasons you adore him so much.

"This is a signal jammer," he explains, flipping the little gadget over to show you the wiring on the back. "This panel here is programmed to send out a frequency that makes technology go all wiley! Radios can't broadcast, cameras can't record, cellphones can't call, yadda yadda."

"But how's the jammer know not to jam itself?" You ask, leaning down to examine the paneling more closely, as if it'll help you understand it any better. It's practically gibberish to you no matter how you think about it.

JJ giggles. "D'ya want me to tell you all the boring specifics, or do you wanna go play tag again?"

You hide your grin behind your hand and kick your feet, giddy. Your big brother always knows you prefer to be more active when you're left to your own devices. He's so smart! JJ can read and write and work on tech and strategize with Popsy — he's the coolest clown in town!

"You're It!" You cry, pinching his arm, then leap off the rafters.

Or, at least you try. A hand clutches your wrist, quick as lightning, which stops your momentum. You tip your head back to find JJ holding you up and staring at you with wide, blue eyes. His smile is thin and wobbly and his breathing is sharp.

"Punchline!!" He cries. "We're eighty feet in the air!"

You snort, hanging limp in his grasp, and make no move to help him lift you back up.

"I can't get hurt, remember?" You swing your legs back and forth, rocking your body. His grip gets tighter on your hand, registering the change of pressure without the pain, which just proves your point. "You're silly! This doesn't count, you have to let me get a headstart when you're It!"

JJ leans back and pulls on you with all his might, groaning from the effort. His voice echoes throughout the warehouse and you can see his arms straining under his shirt sleeves. Slowly but surely, he's able to get you high enough to pull you back onto the beam, and wraps his arms around your waist.

"Let's play on the ground," he says like it's a suggestion, but you know by the tone of his voice that it's not. It's his "no more nonsense" tone, the one he uses when Popsy's in a bad mood or when you have to be quiet when relocating to a new secret base. You've learned to obey that tone very well. That tone keeps you safe.

When he stands, he hauls you over his shoulder like a rag doll. You huff and whine and complain without actually putting up a struggle, but his arms lock around you like a vise anyway, so you just pick at a loose thread on the back of his collar as he makes the journey back down the rafters.

"No fun," you grumble, "no fun, no fun."

"Just because you can't feel when a bone breaks means you should break it," Junior says. He adjusts his grip on you as he starts to climb down some old scaffolding, shimmying carefully to the ground. "Harder to play when you can't walk."

"I guess..." You concede. You can walk on broken legs just fine. You've done it before, but it was admittedly much easier when they weren't broken.

"Glad we agree!"

Despite your protests, you giggle. When your brother's feet touch the floor, he puts you down and forces you to put your shoes on, citing that glass and rusty nails in your feet is still a nuisance even if it doesn't hurt. Once the laces are fastened you immediately take off in a sprint, starting the game.

JJ's always taken great care of you even though you don't really need it anymore. It's been his job since you were born. Popsy doesn't do babies. They're a lot of effort and time he doesn't have, especially when he's busy building the next great game for the Bat and his Birds to play. While Popsy plays with them, you and JJ entertain each other! It's always been that way, and it's lots of fun coming up with new games during the downtime.

"Ten..." JJ calls, smirking as he watches you go. "Nine...eight...sevensixfive —"

"Cheater!" You squeal, hearing his footsteps kick up behind you, and run faster. "Play fair!"

"Fourthreetwoone!" He laughs, sprinting for you. "IIII'm comiiiing, P!!"

You hop over a crate of weaponry and shriek with laughter when your brother follows suit a few seconds later, vaulting and jumping and running after you through the warehouse with only moonlight to guide your way. His past as a Bird makes him exceptionally fast and agile, but he's taught you enough tricks that you can generally keep him at bay for a bit.

You weave between two barrels that he flips over. You dart past a pallet propped against the wall and flip it down behind you, forcing him to duck under it. You squeeze into a dusty air vent he's just a hair too big to fit, his arm reaching uselessly for your hunched figure.

"Cheater," he pants, winded from the chase. His grin is softer. Authentic. You feel yours shift to match. The genuine mirth buzzes around in your chest like a moth around light.

"Takes one to know one," you sing-song, wiggling your fingers just out of his reach. He makes a strong attempt at grabbing you, but you draw back and giggle. "Truce?"

"Yeah," he quickly agrees. "You're It next?"

You nod. When he moves out of the way, you crawl out of the vent and sit on the floor beside him, shoulders touching, and catch your breath together. You tip your head in his direction since he's sitting on your right, in case he has something to say. He notices and props his chin on top of your head.

"Ready?" He asks after a few minutes. You nod, and together you climb to your feet. "Alright. Tag!"

He gently touches your shoulder then takes off across the warehouse. A few mice scatter on his approach and he's careful not to trample any.

"Ten, nine, eight," you call, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet. Unlike your silly older brother, you're going to play fair and square so you can rub your victory in his face.

"Seven, six, five..."

You lose sight of JJ, but that's fine. The game's more fun when it turns into Hide and Tag.

"Four, three, two, one! HERE I COME, JJ!"

You run in the direction you saw him last, moonlight your only guide, and keep your eyes peeled for any motion in your periphery. So far it's just wood and metal all around you, nothing but your shoes clicking against the floor as you go.

"I'm gonna geeeet youuuu~" you coo, perking up when a shadow shifts a few yards ahead. You rush toward the motion and swerve to avoid crashing into the stacked bottles of acid your Popsy had you collect the other day. "A-ha!"

A Bird stares at you, wide-eyed and dead silent as he white-knuckles a small cluster of papers in his hands. You recognize them as Popsy and JJ's blueprints for some future trap designs. His jaw is practically on the floor, as though believing his garish colors and obvious movement in your living space weren't going to get him noticed. Granted, you thought you'd noticed your brother, but that's a moot point.

Neither of you moves for a few seconds, just staring at each other with incredulity. You've never met another person that wasn't Popsy, JJ, or one of Popsy's henchmen before. You don't know what to do.

"J-Junior," you stammer, grin crooked and heart thundering in your ear. You take a step back, and the Bird seems to come back to himself at that. "Junior!!"

"I won't hurt you," the Bird says, quickly tucking the papers into a pocket. He reaches a hand out to you and steps forward. You turn and bolt, running for your mallet. "Wait!"

"Beat it, Birdy!!" You shout, grabbing the handle of your weapon and swinging wide. The intruder just barely avoids getting his skull caved in. He takes a combative stance, hands balled into fists as he finally gets the hint and puts some distance between you.

"This is not the move to make," he says, scowling now. You sneer at him and twirl the mallet between your hands, glancing left and right for any signs of your brother. "I didn't come here to fight. We can discuss this peacefully."

"Are you deaf?" You taunt, running towards him. You kick a discarded pipe at his face, forcing him to block it, then while he's distracted use a crate as your launch pad to jump at him with your weapon poised to swing down with as much momentum as possible. "I said BEAT IT!!"

The Bird flips backwards to avoid collision. Your mallet hits the concrete with thunderous impact, leaving cracks behind.

You take the offensive, stalking after the Bird and steering him towards the exit. You won't kill him — Popsy's drilled (sometimes literally) into you enough times that if a Bat is gonna die, it's gonna be by his hand — but the sooner he leaves, the sooner you and JJ can round up whatever you can carry and rush to the next hideaway.

"Nightwing, where are you?" The Bird says, pressing two fingers to his ear as you continue to swing at him. "There's a child on the premises with the Joker's motif all over her. I could use someone with your annoying people skills."

He dodges another swipe of your hammer and you see his eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline, stiffening like a board.

"Timothy?" He blurts. Your already frantic heartbeat kicks up even faster.

It makes sense now why JJ wouldn't answer your call — that Nightwing guy must have found him. These stupid Birds have invaded your home and accosted your big brother, and now they're deadnaming him like they've got the right to reclaim your family! Like they've got the right to take him from you! Like they've got the right to intrude on your business!

"His name," you hiss, more snarling than smiling as you kick your leg out and bring the Bird to his knees in surprise, "is JJ!!"

You swing again, hitting him in the stomach, and send the Birdy flying across the warehouse. He hits the ground several yards away and rolls, groaning in pain. You stalk after him with furrowed brows and bared teeth.

"What'd ya do with my big bro!?" You demand. "Tell me quickly before I break Popsy's rule and turn your face into mashed potatoes!!"

The intruder pushes himself up by his hands with a grunt, glaring up at you through the lenses of his domino mask. You lift your mallet in warning.

"Where is he!? I'll give ya to the count of three!"

You bring your mallet down right next to the bird's head, making him flinch back.

"One!"

You do it again, this time just barely missing his knee as he tries to get to his feet. He stumbles back and lands on his ass, hurriedly crab-walking away from you.

"Two!"

"Three."

Something pricks your neck, the sensation startling. You flinch and drop the mallet, lifting your hand to touch the needle stuck in your skin. The room starts spinning and swirling, becoming a shadowy merry-go-round in the darkness of the warehouse. You stumble to the side and run into the big, bad Bat himself, who materializes out of nowhere to wrap his arms around you and frown at your slumping body.

Whoops. Probably should've double-checked your surroundings a little better. JJ's situational awareness was always stronger than yours. You'll tell him that when you break out of Arkham with Popsy.

"OhHHhh," you mumble, consciousness fading fast. "BaTSy's here...no...nO fuN...go 'way and...and gimME BAck my...broOotherrrrr..."

Your eyes roll back, your bones turn to jelly, and you're gone.

--

You do not wake up in Arkham. You groggily peel your eyes open to find a plain, beige cell all around you. To your left is a bed, on the back wall is a curtain hiding a toilet and a showerhead, and there's a sink in the right corner. On the ceiling, you lock eyes with a security camera, and when you push yourself into an upright position, you look through the clear, cell door to see a dark corridor clearly carved into a cave.

You're in a cell in the Batcave. How curious.

You push yourself to your feet, shaky from the leftover effects of the sedative, and press your hands against the door, pushing against it with a quiet grunt. It doesn't yield and, based off the panels you've worked with when Popsy's building a new trap, feels bulletproof.

With that avenue of escape gone, you wander to the center of the room and sink to your knees, wrapping your arms around yourself and sighing wistfully as your head gently rests against the wall.

You aren't used to being alone. Is JJ also in the cave, or did the Bats put him somewhere else? Maybe he escaped and he's on his way to Arkham to go get Popsy before they swing back around for you. No, they probably put him somewhere else; they called JJ by his old name, so they must want him for something. You don't know what for, and the lack of anything you can do in here is making your skin buzz. You just want to go back to the warehouse and play Hide and Tag with your family.

You must have dozed off again, because the next thing you know you're jolted awake by animalistic screaming down the hall and several, panicked voices are shouting at someone to calm down. You hear something shatter and a batarang goes flying past your door, which startles you.

"Get the fucking sedative out!!"

"I'M WORKIN' ON IT, ASSHOLE, JUST KEEP HIM STILL!"

You watch Batman rush past your door without sparing you a glance, jaw clenched and hands formed into fists. The shrieking gets even louder and the sounds of struggle more intense.

"WHERE IS SHE!?"

Oh, that shrieking is JJ. A wave of discomfort rolls down your spine and makes your fingers and toes numb. Is he upset because you haven't broken out of your cell yet? You're normally pretty fast at escaping bonds and cages, you've had lots of practice, but the sedative had made you so sleepy! That's not your fault!

"Tim, please calm —"

"DON'T CALL ME THAT!" Your brother shouts. There's another hard thump and sounds of a struggle. A syringe rolls down the hallway and stops in front of your door. "WHERE IS SHE!? WHERE'S MY SISTER!!"

It's worry, you realize. JJ is worried for you. He takes his role as your big brother very seriously, so much so that this is the longest you've ever spent apart, and you're still just in the same building. You don't want him to be worried.

"JJ!" You call, pressing your hands to the glass. "I'm here!"

Everything quiets for a moment. You don't move. You don't breathe. You hold your good ear to the glass to listen.

"Punchline?" He calls.

"I'm in here, JJ!" You respond.

"C'mere," your brother immediately says, in his no-nonsense tone. You glance at the door and the keypad you have no hopes of hacking. The complicated, techy stuff is beyond you. You're the muscle and he's the brains, a dynamic you've been very comfortable with until now.

"I can't," you admit. "I can't get out!"

"...Tim, don't —"

More scuffling. Someone groans in pain. It's not JJ; you know what his pain sounds like, and that's not it.

"Let her go."

"One of you please go grab the goddamn sedative!"

"Give my sister back to me, right now."

"There's no need for violence. Get the knife away from your brother's throat —"

"I DON'T HAVE ANY BROTHERS!" JJ shouts. "GIVE MY LITTLE SISTER BACK TO ME NOW!"

You're so absorbed in the conversation down the corridor that you completely miss the man in the suit in front of your cell. He presses a few buttons on the keypad and you step back from him when the door slides open.

It's a geezer. What little hair is left on his head is snow white and he's dressed up in a fancy schmancy tuxedo. His gaze is piercing, but non-threatening as he looks at you.

"Terribly sorry to disturb you, madam," he says, voice gentle as he offers you a hand, palm up. "My name is Alfred Pennyworth. Might I request your aid? Your brother seems to be in quite the fright, and I think we've made a grievous error in separating such a bonded pair. Please, allow me to correct that at once."

"...what?" You blurt, smile thin. "You wanna give me AIDS?"

Alfred's expression gets a little tight. He takes a deep breath and starts talking again.

"Apologies for the confusion. I'd like to bring you to your brother. May I?"

Oh! Finally, somebody talking sense! You grin and take his hand, stepping out of the cell and turning your head towards the commotion.

JJ is standing tall and has a Bird on his knees in front of him, one hand fisted in his hair and the other holding a blade to his throat. You're pretty sure it's the one called Nightwing, but you wouldn't bet on it. The shorter Bird you fought in the warehouse is standing next to Batman and holding his dislocated shoulder while a thin line of blood runs down his temple. A big guy, like beefy as shit, in a red helmet is aiming a gun at your brother's head. And Batman is standing with his hands up in placation, trying and failing to take the pacifist route.

"JJ!" You exclaim, happy he's okay. Five heads turn to face you, and you let go of Alfred's hand to run to his side.

JJ lets go of the hand in the Bird's hair to hug you tight, then ushers you to stand behind him. The other hand keeps the knife in place.

"You hurt?"

"Silly question," you mumble, but indulge him anyway. "I'm right as rain, now that you're here!"

He nods, ice blue eyes roaming across all the birdies in the hall with you. Everyone else stares right back, tense and motionless.

"We're bottlenecked, P," he murmurs eventually. "Might haveta enjoy a little vacation in one of these cells 'till Popsy breaks out again."

You shrug, threading your fingers with his free hand. "Together?"

"Together," he says firmly. The fancy butler nods easily, waving his arm.

"You won't be separated again," Alfred promises. "Please, let's cease the violent altercations and all take a rest. Let me move you to a bigger room you two can share."

JJ gives you his full attention. You read the silent question in his gaze.

It's up to you to decide. You can fight your way to freedom or let them herd you into another box for the time being.

You quirk your lips, considering, then shake your head. The warehouse was getting a little boring anyway, and a fight could get your brother hurt.

"Lead the way, Penny Wenny!"

The knife is discarded and Nightwing quickly moves to the side, rubbing his neck and shooting your brother a weird look. The beefy guy lowers his gun. You keep your hands linked and follow the fancy butler to a larger cell with a bigger bed, which JJ tugs you to, and you curl up in his lap while he watches the door with a pensive quirk of his lips. Alfred bows and then leaves, the only sounds now being hushed conversation down the hall.

"You're not hurt?" JJ asks again. You shake your head. "Okay."

"Sorry, JJ," you sigh. "I tried t'get the baby bird to tell me where ya were, but then they pricked me and I woke up here. I wasn't payin' good enough attention..."

JJ gives you a gentle squeeze, resting his chin on the top of your head.

"Not your fault. These guys ain't no joke, P. I would know. I won't let them separate us again."

You hum, knocking your feet together as you come to terms with your new, temporary living space. You can adapt anywhere as long as your brother is around.

Click. Click. Click.

[stxrmcloud]

Charles Winchester: A study in Boston snobbery

(warning for spoilers from episodes in seasons six through eleven, including GFA, under the cut)

We're all aware of the Boston Brahmin Charles Emerson Winchester III, the Major that takes over after one Frank Burns after he gets to the loony bin. But Charles is no Frank Burns, and he shows his growth throughout the series.

Starting in season six, Charles makes his debut in the episode Fade Out, Fade In parts one and two. Almost immediately, he's shown to be an upper class snob who actually hates the idea of spending time in a MASH unit, calling it an "inflamed boil on the buttocks of the world". He shows his distaste for Colonel Potter's keeping him in the 4077th through getting onto Radar - "Corporal, I assure you, no one in Korea is madder than me." - and seemingly flaunting his abilities to Hawkeye and BJ in the Swamp - "Practically Chief of Thoracic Surgery at Boston General in this godforsaken...dump." Despite him not being thrilled at the idea of staying in the 4077th, he shows just a hint of vulnerability under the bloody scrubs. He talks with BJ, Hawkeye and Potter after a stint in OR, saying "I felt like an intern in there" and "I can't adjust to this." He isn't one to show emotions, especially not this soon into his debut. However, he does end up going along with a small prank of his own. The snake Hawkeye puts in his bed - "I wish you would have told us that before we put the snake in his bed!" (Hawkeye) - somehow finds it's way into his own. The only thing from Charles is a small, sly smile and a "Please.. Mozart."

His actions throughout seasons six and seven are more of the same, the same inflated ego and sharp wit. However, Major Ego in season seven gives a slight bit more dimension to the Charles character. He saves a life and ends up being very humble about it, telling Hawkeye that "[His] performance in OR today was inexcusable. I hesitated far too long before springing into action." However, seconds later, he's back to his usual inflated ego and 'higher than thou' thinking. He's still trying to get out of the 4077th, even now. And when someone comes along to write an article on him, he seizes the moment. "When the brass in Tokyo read this article about me, I shall be delivered from this muckhole and placed in a proper facility." he tells Hawkeye, wanting to finally have a way back to his lavish job in the hospital in Tokyo where he started. In a turn of surprise for almost everyone, Charles ends up rejecting the article that was supposed to be his ticket out of the "fetid and festering sewer" he called the 4077th, his dream. He won't let the reporter publish a lie after his patient mentioned in the article had complications after surgery. This could be something about not tarnishing the Winchester name, but I can't help but think that it's something more.. that maybe the façade Charles puts around himself is starting to crack.

His personality really starts to change in seasons eight and ten, with the episodes Morale Victory and Sons and Bowlers. In Morale Victory, Charles helps a pianist soldier gain his legs back, at the cost of a hand. He shows genuine concern for the patient, David, after he was told that he was a concert pianist. Charles goes out of his way to talk to Mulcahy about his feelings, feeling that he failed the patient. Mulcahy guides him to help him, telling him that "[He] can't let him waste that precious talent that God has given him." This is one of the very few times we see Charles actually speaking to Mulcahy about anything important. He finds - through Klinger - pieces that he can play, showing care and compassion that we see similarly in the season eleven episode Run for the Money with the patient that has a stutter like Charles's own sister. Like that episode, Charles ties this patient's experiences to his own, saying that he never had the gift to play the piano, but David does. Whenever Charles gets vulnerable in any of these episodes, he always ties it back to his own experiences and family. He does the same in Sons and Bowlers, letting down his walls around Hawkeye and telling him about his father. Charles has never let himself feel vulnerable around anyone, especially Hawkeye. "But where I have a father, you have a dad." - Charles

"Charles, you've never told me anything like this before." - Hawkeye

"Actually, Hawkeye, I've never told you anything before." - Charles

Charles being open about his own experiences and just being there for Hawkeye throughout the episode helped Hawkeye get closer to him at the end of it. They might not be friends, but they're closer than they were before the episode.

Goodbye, Farewell and Amen is the ending of MASH, where all the characters in the episode go through it as the war comes to an end. Charles ends up meeting a batch of Chinese musicians and attempts to teach them Mozart, a semblance of home in this war. However, things change when they get sent off in a POW wagon for the trade between Korea and America. They come back wounded, breaking Charles even more. He ends up smashing one of his records near the end of the episode, the same record as the one he tried to teach the Chinese soldiers. "My life will go on as expected... with one exception: For me, music has always been a refuge from this miserable experience. And now it will always be a... reminder." Charles says when asked about his future. Throughout his appearance on MASH, Charles has used records and music as a respite, just like he mentions. As he leaves Korea at the end of Goodbye, Farewell and Amen, he leaves behind a piece of him.. the music he once cherished lies broken on the floor of his temporary home.

Charles is a character that grows plenty in his time in Korea, showed throughout the series in bits and pieces. I really cherish this character, Boston prick though he is, and I hope this helps you to do the same. Thank you to @discocaptain for arranging this little Masholes Meta and I had such a fun time picking apart my little blorbo.

[thatgayb1tchwhosimps4her]

Harley Lore (Post-Rescue/Pre-Adult TL) (For this OC)

CW: Vague mentions of substance abuse, one mention of electrotherapy, talks of s£x work/pro$tituation, IVF discussions (idk how it might be considered a warning, but it's there), and like a couple nods to Lottie's schizophrenia.

A/N: I only put each bullet point in varied colours, because otherwise it looks really bad/bulked up.

Word Count: 943.

~~~

Post-Rescue/14 to 21 ('98-'05):

Went back to school fairly quickly (sophomore year), after they all assumedly got like 'evaluated' when they got back, since her mom would probably never be sober enough to put her (or Nat) into counselling/therapy.

Didn't hear about Lottie being sent away until December of that year, and immediately scraped as much money as she could together (a good chunk of which was from pawning off/selling a bunch of a her stuff) to fly to Switzerland, unaccompanied (with the use of a fake ID).

Immediately marched up there, demanding to see her (I'm picturing this like after maybe 5 sessions of electrotherapy, but idk how that works, or how often it would be done, so), before spotting a fairly hazy-looking Lottie come out of a room (with like the typical guys in those white tunic things on either side of her) heading back to her own.

Then Harley shouts out to her, and just bolts straight toward her, past security, a small look of relief and recognition on Lottie's face, only for Harley to be winded a mere couple of metres from her, by Mr Matthews, who just like appears out of nowhere??

And then get chucked out/banned from seeing her, despite Harley's best efforts to try and reason with both of Lottie's parents, and warn them of the repercussions. Something along the lines of "You two weren't out there, you don't know what we went through." and "Lottie doesn't need this; she needs patience and understanding, and for you to just hold and reassure her, instead of neglecting and letting her go through abuse like this."

Which obviously doesn't come off well, and Mr Matthews sorta goes off on Harley, like "How dare scum like you lecture us on the needs of our daughter?!" or something similar.

Got a job (again, with help from her trusty fake ID), in junior year when Nat sort of 'finally' declined fully (that sounds bad), and couldn't really look after Harley and their mom anymore, to have decent money for food/bills/to live in the trailer.

The job being her working for like an 'undercover' pro$tituation company (like an escort service type thing) that operated out of a bar, at any and all times she could.

Got admitted to Princeton University (with a soccer scholarship), but had to turn it down to keep looking out for Natalie, so she didn't end up like their mom.

Then ends up meeting a retired ice hockey coach for the New Jersey Red Devils, through fixing the dude's car, when she got a new job as a mechanic, after she graduated high school (a little while before Nat got canonically arrested).

Who she ends up talking to, and becoming sort-of-friends with over the following couple of years (2002 to 2005), for like tune-ups and upgrades/paint-jobs.

And at some point, Harley mentions being kinda good at it/thinking it was cool, etc, and he ends up making a few calls and getting her a chance to try out (I don't know how this shit works).

---

(Pre-)Adult Timeline:

So Harley ends up working for the New Jersey Red Devils, starting out as goalie for them (in 2005) and ending up as right winger for the New York Rangers in 2008 (we're gonna pretend they let girls play on the same team as the guys).

Then in 2009, is Lottie gets "released" from the loony bin in Switzerland, and flown to New York (I'm estimating it for the purpose of this OC timeline, go away).

And naturally, being like 30, and never really having any independence of her own, outside of their time in the Wilderness, Lottie decides to call basically the one person she can still sort of remember, and knows with about 90% certainty will come running; Harley mf'ing Scatorccio.

After getting the number from her mom (big-up Emilia Matthews), Lottie calls Harley, and just as suspected, she literally comes running; nearly bowling Lottie over when she finally lays eyes on her again after over a decade.

Once reconnected with Lottie, Harley helps her readjust to like being a normal person again (making sure she has some sort of routine, and is taking her meds, etc), and they start kissing and stuff, a few months after that (which eventually turns into like secretly dating, yay gays!!).

(From my perspective) Because it's kind of the 'easy' option for them, as well as like a comfort, since it seemed a lot easier to talk about everything that happened in the Wilderness, and beyond, rather then have to hide it/explain it to potential other partners.

Then after toying around with the idea for a while, Lottie works out the logistics of creating and executing her wellness community idea, with Harley helping her out.

Over the next few years following, Harley starts looking into gender identity stuff more, and gender dysphoria, before eventually coming up with a label that fits him.

And in 2015, when gay marriage is legalised in all 50 states, Harley proposed, and they got married the same day, cause they've waited this long to be together forever, so why not?? And start looking into making a family (IVF).

Which, with that, there isn't really much that needs talking about other than it was Lottie's egg, and the donor had similar traits and looks as Harley (plus being Italian).

Also Lottie carried Thalia (which she decided to do after much deliberation, despite having to go off her meds to do so), and Harley went into therapy as a precaution, so she didn't end up like her dad (🥳 breaking the cycle!!).

Which brings us to the Adult Timeline :)

~~~

Hey, so what Harley was doing Post-crash/in the Wilderness will be contained in the YellowJacket's episode things (like what I did/am doing for my Agatha All Along OC), along with the rest of the Adult Timeline stuff (adult Harley comes in Season 2, same as Lottie), will be linked on here, as and when :)

Also, this is a redo!! Purely cause before I wasn't sure how long Lottie was in Switzerland for, but I'm pretty sure it's kind of agreed (through when all the adults are at the compound, and Van mentions it, and fandom, that she was like 29/30, so :)

Also x2, I don't think we know how long Nat was jailed for (or if she actually was??), but it's implied that after she got out (along with Tai) Harley tries to help out with getting her into rehabs and keeping her sober (which will be further detailed soon).

Post again soon ✌🏼

-Harlow

[roseofithaca]

The Wolf and the Witchling

Little ficlet set in the Gore AU. Silver Guppy is her mother's daughter. (Mention of @idiotwithanipad 's oc Amy)

Tw: attempted SA

-

"Oi, come on, love! We were only bein' friendly!"

"Please stop following me!"

"Who says we're following you? Full of yourself, much?!"

Ashley cursed herself for not making sure she had enough cash on her for a taxi. These two had been hounding her since she'd got off the bus stop. She'd stupidly left both her phone as well as her credit cards back in the room.

Thinking she could lose them, she'd swerved to the footpath rather than continue down the road with no pavement that would have taken her to the main entrance. But they'd spotted her and heckled her at every step.

"You stayin' at that posh place are ya? All right for some!" The taller one with shorn blond hair laughed.

"You gonna invite us up to your room then?" His friend asked.

"Not tonight, sorry." She kept her eyes forward. They'll give up soon, they have to.

The shorter one with a beard walked swiftly in front to block her view.

"What? We not good enough or sumat'?" He challenged.

Ashley winced, her usual confidence suddenly zapped out of her, alone in a woodland path at night with two giant creeps who looked like they could snap her in half.

"I-I didn't say that...J-just that the hotel's really strict on who guests can bring in-" She tried to shake the blame.

"Sod them then! Fucking jumped up wankers!" The blond guy hollered towards the building on the horizon.

A five minute walk. Two minutes if she runs. No chance in these heels.

Too far away for the security guards inside to hear her if she screams.

"Forget about them, love. We can have a sleepover out here in the woods." One of them touches her arm and she cringes.

"Yeah. Be like camping. Got plenty of games we could play."

Ashley's blood runs cold as the dark haired guy leans all too close to her neck and touches her hair.

"Games? Ooh, can I play?!"

All three froze at the new voice.

They turned their heads in unison to see who had joined them.

"What the f-." Blond guy frowned.

"Video games were my favourite. Zelda, Mario, Castlevania! All the classics, hehehe." The silhouette of a young, thin girl with short hair walked slowly towards them, her arms swaying at her side, as if dancing at the same time; "Don't get to play much of them anymore. Got the real thing if I want, hahaha. But I still love games! Hide and seek...Tag...What's your favourite?"

The adults, who were well into their late twenties, all stared as the teenager stepped into a stream of moonlight that removed the veil of shadows from her features. Pale skin, hot pink fringe combined with an ebony crop of hair, dirt stained patterned fishnets, boots and a black and pink overshirt atop a boob tube.

Her face was what struck them speechless. Faded blue eyes that seemed to stare straight through them and a smile that seemed to stretch beyond average width.

"Well? Hehehe. What d'you wanna play?" She asked with a tilt of her head.

"Ain't it past your bedtime, little girl?" The blond one scoffed.

"Hehehehe, I actually just woke up! Long story. Won't bore you with it. Though I am being a little naughty. See....Mummy doesn't like me talking to strangers..." She says, lowering her voice.

One of the men cleared his throat; "Well best listen to 'Mummy' then, darlin', and head on home. This is grown up business."

"I'll have you know I'm nineteen! Hehehe. I'm old enough to drive. But I don't have a car." She pouted for a moment, then giggled; "Mummy gives me dragons instead!"

The two men exchanged baffled looks.

"She's off her fucking nut." The dark haired one doesn't attempt to whisper.

"Mate, I wouldn't have even thought she was sixteen!"

"Yeah, you're a bit on the small side to interest us, love. Head back to the loony bin like a good-"

"I love your dress!"

Dark haired one scoffed; "What?"

The girl somehow managed to glare at him without losing her freaky ass smile.

"I wasn't talking to you. Your clothes are lame as shit." She dismissed.

Ashley had been silent until this moment, when the creepy girl pointed a finger at her, black velvet coverings over her hand.

"Your dress. I love it. It really suits you." She says, sounding sincere.

"Th...thanks...?" She replies, just wanting to run back to her hotel room and lock the door and windows.

The girl tilted her head; "What colour is it?"

"How can you like her dress if you can't even see the colour? You fucking blind or sumat'?!" The blond guy sneered.

"Uhh, yes! Hehehe. I am. Or sumat'." She replied with a roll of her eyes; "But I can see shapes! Hehehehe. My voice bounces off them and back to me! Can make up the colours in my head, but would like to know the truth. Hahaha... I can even see how little you are....down there."

She tilted her gaze towards his groin.

"What the fuck did you just say, you little bitch?!"

Ashley's heart hammered as she reached to grab at the guy before he could lunge towards the girl.

"She's just winding you up, leave her alone!" She looked to the blind teen; "Sweetheart, you don't have to get involved in this, I'm fine. You should head home."

"I am home. And you don't sound fine." The girl replies flatly, smile twitching at the corners; "You sound...scared. My home is lovely. No one should ever be scared here..."

"She weren't scared, were ya, babes?" The dark haired one put his arm around Ashley's waist.

Of course she's scared. She's fucking terrified. There's no two ways about it, these two thugs want to do unspeakable things to her in these woods and other than trying to scratch their eyes out with her press ons, she has no way of defending herself.

She wants to tell the girl the truth. Tell her to run to the hotel and call the police, or do it herself if she has a phone on her. But the kid doesn't even seem to have a purse.

Could the kid outrun either of these? Is it worth the risk of what they might do to her as well?

Fuck. She's not just scared. She's petrified.

"I think you should step away from her now." The pink haired girl says. "She clearly doesn't want to play."

"Oh piss off, you little freak." They both try to drag Ashley away.

Shit, shit, shit. She opens her mouth but the scream she wants to summon won't come.

"I can hear her heartbeat. She really, really doesn't want to play. Hehehhe....Let. Her. Go."

The dark haired one does but the blond one keeps a firm grip on her elbow.

His friend swaggers up towards the girl, towering over her, fists clenched at his side.

"You jealous, hmm? That it? You wanna play with the adults? You're welcome to come...I bet you're actually pretty under all that Twilight shit." He mocks, plucking one of the leaves from her hair.

She frowns up at him; "What's Twilight?"

"What's...? Ha. You look like sorta weird...Never mind. It's a movie about vampires."

"Like Buffy?!"

"Who?!"

"Mate, what are you even up to?!" His friend called, impatient.

"Gimmie a minute!" He turned back to the blind girl; "What I meant is, I can be your fit, much older, vampire boyfriend. And you can be my horny little normal girl...." his eyes wondered down to her boob tube.

The girl giggled; "But I'm not normal. I'm a witch! Just like my mummy."

"Sure you are." He scoffed.

"I'm also dead."

A beat. Their eyes widened as a rivilet of blood began to leak from her ear and down her neck via the single feather earring she wore.

"Holy shit." The blond one gasped.

"What the...Right. I'm done. You stay the fuck away from us." His mate turned away and towards Ashley; "You. Take us back to your hotel room. Don't make trouble or my mate will break your arm, you hear? He's former Navy."

"S'right." Ashley felt his spit against her neck as he hissed; "Be a good girl. We'll have fun once we're tucked up inside."

As they went to turn around, a wall of mist arose in front of them, causing the mansion in the distance to vanish.

The men swore again.

"I told you...to let her go." Repeated the teenager who walked through the mist, having suddenly transported from one spot to another.

Ashley felt the temperature drop on a rather mild July evening. Packing a cardigan hadn't even been a thought and now, suddenly, she wished for a winter coat.

The ex Navy one approached the kid this time.

"Stop these little tricks, you cunt, unless you want me to fuck you into the mud right now-!" He reached for her shoulder.

Ashley watched the girl shudder, eyes closed, struggling to stay calm it seemed as her knees buckled. Oh. What the fuck?!

The bloke's hand had gone straight through her chest. He was staring at it, dumbfounded, before pulling it back.

And then the girl laughed. Louder. And louder.

"How did you do that?!" He demanded to know.

She kept on laughing.

"Answer me, you little shit! What's so fucking funny?!" His fist curled tight but he seemed reluctant to want to try to touch her again.

The girl stared up at him with that terrifyingly unreal smile.

Then she sang.

"....You should not have done that..."

Blood dribbled down from her nostrils as she continued to laugh, her eyes piercing, demonic, into his.

The dark haired man stepped back, just as the sound of a low, furious growl rumbled around them.

Something large and furry crept out through the mist. Moving on all fours, Ashley first thought it to be a dog. A big dog. Then a wolf? No...a bear? Shit, were those paws or knuckles it was walking on? Was it a fucking gorilla?!

Only when it stopped beside the girl could they see it was human...Just about. A human with wild, untamed hair, covered in various animal skins, deep red claw marks across his exposed chest and forearm. His face was bumpy and misshapen but those eyes, those eyes which burned with rage, were very clearly human. It continued to growl, menacingly at them, baring its crooked teeth.

The blind teen stopped laughing and reached to gently stroke his mane.

"Sweet friend. Do you remember what we were talking about the other day? About trying to be more kind?" She asked, softly.

The creature grunted in response, not taking his eyes off Ashley or her stalkers.

"Well," She knelt down, even though he was still around her height on all fours; "These boys weren't being very kind to this lady. She only wants to go home safe, but they want to....play some very nasty games with her." She then leaned in to his ear as she said, not at all subtly; "...And they tried to play them with me too."

At that, the beast's warning growls turned pure savage, spit flying from his lips as his eyes widened. It was enough to make the men retreat.

Ashley barely registered the blond one let go of her arm.

"Dan, what the hell is that?!" The blond one asks his mate.

"How the fuck should I know?! Hey...we didn't touch her, all right. Really, we couldn't!"

"But you tried, didn't you." The girl sneered; "And you called me such horrible names. Should I repeat them to my friend here? Hmm? Should I tell him what you said you wanted to do to me just now?"

The men began to tremble. They shook their heads.

"N-no-."

"I believe their words were," the girl flexed her fingers into the beast's fur as she shuffled closer to him; "Fuck me into the mud."

It roared. Ashley ducked to the ground, covering her head as if a bomb had gone off.

"Screw this! Let's go!"

Her stalkers were practically clutching at each other in terror as they turned tail and raced in the opposite direction.

The beast looked to the girl. Waiting.

"....If they're free...They're free to hurt again." She smiled at the creature; "Have fun!"

He let out a snarl, deep from his haggard throat, eyes glinting with something close to excitement.

Then he ran off, fast as a cheetah, into the woods, following their trail.

Ashley was still trembling in the dirt when the girl approached her.

"You're safe now. You should probably get to bed. Shame. I was hoping to show you more of my dresses. This one isn't my best, hehehe." She span around on her boots as if wearing some dazzling gown; "Yours is much prettier."

This wasn't real. None of this could be real. If it weren't for the bruises on her arms from where those men had held her, she'd be sure someone had slipped something in her drink to make her see crazy shit.

Her heart was still hammering away as she rose to her feet, knees juddering. The mist was clearing away now. Suddenly, she was right outside the hotel, rather than a golf course away.

"Wha...What are you?! What was-?"

Two blood curdling screams from a pair of young men rang out through the forest, waking the birds far too early, sending a flock of them against the full moon.

The girl giggled and twirled, spreading her arms out.

"He won't kill them. Wouldn't want them having to stay in our home, or even in the big house." She said cheerily; "But don't worry. They'll never be capable of playing nasty games again. Hehehehe."

She didn't know how to feel. Relieved? Grateful? Horrified? She'd walked out of a true crime event into a monster movie.

"Hey...You're staying at the big house, aren't you?" The girl asked, surprisingly casual.

"I...Y-yeah." She stammered, unsure if she should be telling the ghost that.

Ghost. Witch. Fucking hell.

The teen suddenly looked bashful, fiddling with the coverings on her hand.

"Could you...do me a favour? I need a message delivered to one of the rooms. Could you do that? Please! It has to be you. If you ask the people at the front desk, they'll say the room is empty."

"....Why would they say that?"

"Because it is. Hehehehe."

Ashley shook her head. Conversations with a dead girl was one thing but a pyscho dead girl was another. But...better to have it on her side, she supposed.

"Okay. W-what's the message?"

Three minutes later, Ashley breathed a sigh of relief as she entered the main doors of the hotel. She brushed off the staff's concerned questions about her wellbeing and asked for a piece of paper and a pen.

After trotting up to the East Wing, she kneels down to slide the note underneath the room marked Out Of Use Until Further Notice. She'd been instructed to make sure the writing was facing up.

The note contains the message that the girl had asked her to write.

Sorry I poked your eyes. Hope we can still be friends. Your daddy said you're sick. :( Get well soon. Hugs, Silver. xxx

There. Done.

She'd even included the damn emojis the ghost requested. And then, when Ashley had turned back on her way towards the hotel, the girl was nowhere to be seen. Neither was the creature...or what remained of her attackers.

Fine with her.

Ashley made her way back to her bedroom, locked the door and immediately rummaged in her bag for some valium. She was ready to dive into bed and let this all be just a weird fucking nightmare.

-

Silver sat on the grass, humming to herself and hugging her knees as she faced across the field to the mansion in the distance. Some of the lights were turning off now, not that she knew that, but was aware it was getting very late. Had the scared girl managed to go to sleep? Had she delivered her note? Was Amy already asleep or had she read it already?

Only time would tell. She had forever to wait and find out, forgetting all the sleeping she would do in between.

There's a couple of grunts beside her as her guardian returned from his hunt.

"Hello, you! Did you have fun chasing them nasty boys?" She grinned.

He huffed and wiped some of the blood dripping through his mane with his sleeve.

"People like that make me wish I had Mummy's fire. Or even your claws. All I've got is a giggle! Hehehehe." Fucksake. She sighed; "Hope Mummy isn't too mad when she finds out. We did the right thing, didn't we? That poor lady was about to be hurt and we stopped it."

She shuffled close to him and grinned, mischievously.

"You're a hero, Mr. Ra!" Silver teased, quiet as she could, nudging his shoulder.

He growled at her for that but she took no offence, seeing the smallest remmant of a coy smile on those crooked lips in her special vision. A moist knuckle was pressed against her forehead. She smiled and huddled against his side as he rested on the grass, continuing to lick the blood from his paws.

They waited there for Mummy to return from whatever important job she was doing. Silver continued to hum some one hit wonder from the 90s as she massaged Ra's scalp. He purred and leaned into her touch. After twenty years, she'd finally found his Achilles heel, the secret trick to make him like her.

"I wonder if the Fizzy Girl watched us scare those mean men away." Silver mused aloud.

Ra merely grunted, unsure himself, resting his head on her knee.

"I hope so. I want her to know she'd be safe with us, if her daddy ever let her play outside. If I found out anyone hurt her, I'd let you to rip them to fucking shreds. Hehehehe!"

[impuretale]

"Just Say We're Good" - an excerpt from my OUAT/The Stand crossover series

Slowly Turns the Spinning Wheel - Series Link

"I don't want to trouble you by chasing after you." 

If any one person that seemingly mattered to him had decided he was worth chasing, well -- this would all be a very different story, wouldn't it?

Harold had been in the Rockies a couple days at this point, going a little slower since many of the roads were still clogged with cars, and they were often on sheer edges that were harder to maneuver around. Utah felt like it was within arm's reach. Still, he believed he had chosen the best, most expedient path, and knowing the distance between Boulder and Las Vegas was far shorter than one from Maine to Colorado, impatience and the travel alone meant that he felt the distance and the time somehow even harder. 

He did not have Nadine to harden the exterior, keep him stubbornly digging his heels in and away from glancing back. The stone on his neck felt like a reminder. He made a choice of his own free will, and he had measured both sides of the debate, found each wanting in their own way. Where his last encounter with Fran did all that it could to pull him in one direction, each decision he saw through that day felt like a nail in Hawk's coffin. A person he had seen he could be, and now he was headed to Sin City to see what other person he was likely to become, because the alternative was...nothing he wanted.

When he had been in high school (when high schools were still a thing), he had told people that saw and reacted to the "manifesto" that he wrote as fiction. He insisted this to concerned teachers, to the counselor and principal who brought his hardfaced and judgmental parents in to discuss it, to the boys that beat the Hell out of him whenever they felt they had free enough reign to do so. But it wasn't when he first wrote it. Just the heaviest he had ever gone into baring his soul on paper, the prototype of the Ledger. And it did, indeed, end with the intent to carry firearms into the school to exact some kind of vengeance. To finish becoming the man he knew he was destined to be. 

What had stopped him were several hard facts: the first being, that he had never held a gun, and would not until he would pull one from that crashed cop car months later; the second was that he did not wish to or intend to die, whether by suicide or in a police shootout that alone, he would inevitably lose, even in a small town like Ogunquit; the third, finally, was that barring death, he would not be prepared to face the fallout. To see who he'd hit that had been unintended, to face his family turning their backs on him to news outlets and authorities just as they really already had in the privacy of their own home, to endure life imprisonment, or even commission to some loony bin, where in both places he'd just be surrounded by even worse versions of the assholes who had been tormenting him all his life. Nothing would change, save that he would be even more trapped. Whatever he was destined to become would be short-lived and suffocated by the chains he would have failed to break free from.

So the Manifesto became fiction. 

There was no fiction to be made of the Free Zone Vigil; he had seen to that. 

Coming around a bend in the mountain, a wall of rock on one side, a guardrail, and then a steep, scrabbled drop on the other, really no different than any bend he had come around since reaching the snow-capped teeth of North America. 

No different save that he had a feeling, something others might fancifully call deja vu and he logically read as the same sort of intrusive thought that thinking people always had while alone and in dangerous places. What if I took the entire bottle? What if I just walked into oncoming traffic? What if I wrecked here? Logical brains, just measuring out consequences and risks from the back. No less unsettling, sure, but perfectly natural just the same. That was all that was happening here. 

But Harold slowed his speed, just to be careful, taking the corner gently as he passed, and soon it and that feeling were both behind him. 

The sky was overcast, clouds that had been heavy in the ocean and on the coast that were then eaten up and wrung out in the Sierra Nevadas before floating across the desert, threatening but largely dry and fruitless. The Rockies would devour the last of them and the side back east would know neither rain now even full cloud cover, probably. 

He did not wonder how many were taken in the Vigil. The plan had been made. It had been approved, and carried out. Though he thought of Fran and that last embrace, that he had wanted for so long, that had hurt so much to have, like that, at that moment. And he thought of Gold, and the pit in his stomach seemed to bore deeper. It was pride that had pushed those last buttons, to be sure. The explosion was all the proof needed that he had been useful, that he had proven himself an asset to someone at last, and that whatever self-important world Mister Gold was weaving in his head, that revolved around himself much as Harold's view did the same for him -- well, now he really was part of it all, wasn't he? Whether he liked it or not. 

Harold came to a stop to check his map; he was sure the border to Utah was near, but not how far. He unfolded it and took a sip of water from his Contigo -- almost swallowing too hard when he realized he had pulled out the wrong one. 

A state map of Colorado, on which there were several holes from pins that were no longer there, and drawn lines to a spot south of Boulder, near Sidewinder. The Overlook Lodge. 

He didn't know if the notes and the map would mean anything to Flagg, of the several other spots he'd pulled that Gold seemed to have an especial interest in. But his curiosity had apparently piqued Flagg's, too, and since whatever shit that went down with Nadine apparently happened south of Boulder, maybe this would carry some weight. 

A shift in the wind, and Harold glanced back down the road, which but for the shifting of the swept pines, there was really no movement, no sound of other engines, whether close or far off. 

Part of him wondered if he shouldn't have let that fight with Gold go on. Have it all out, even at the risk of being heard by others, people who could stop him. But that familiar rebellion had risen up in him, at someone else telling him what to do because they just must know better (especially when it served their own narrative). That push back against an authority nagging him, directing him like he wasn't grown, and intelligent beyond his years. 

Chasing him. Because he gave enough of a damn to. 

His fingers touched the stone hanging from his throat. 

He'd been going slow enough (thanks to weather and congested roads) that if someone wanted to catch him, surely they would have by now. It wasn't as though he was leaving tags by the sides of the road this time, but the route was pretty clear if you could read a map. Even as he tried to force a hundred miles out before he rested, at first he had felt certain there would be footsteps and arms dogging him every step of the way. 

When none appeared at first, he took it as luck and hurried on. 

But now he wrestled with that certainty. Was anyone even bothering to come after him? Did it matter enough? 

Did he matter enough? 

We're the future. 

For just a moment, he really did want to see her one last time, even though he never would again. Maybe for once, not even for something he thought was rightfully his, but because that was the first time something between them felt real. It flew in the face of everything before that, that felt like an awkward lie they both kept up and just made it that much easier to pull away, to think of her dead. 

But then he stopped her from going to the Vigil, didn't he? 

Would she try to stop him now? Was Gold going to try? Or would he have stayed and tried to clear his own name, so he wouldn't have to leave his research? 

Would he even come for what was taken? 

Harold slid the stone off his neck and back into his pocket, starting the bike engine as he turned back around. An hour. Just an hour to head this way, look the way he came, and from a vantage maybe see if anyone really was following him. 

If no one was? Well, then he'd made the right choice, hadn't he? He was going where at least he was wanted. 

But if someone was coming...what then? Was it all a terrible mistake, then? Would he go back? Accept the consequences of his actions? A younger Harold couldn't, but one who had known Teddy? Who led an entire group of people across the wasteland? Hawk? Hawk would. 

But would Hawk, or something like Hawk, begin to take shape once more? 

Only if someone had bothered to come. 

He picked up a little speed. 

Just a look. That's all this is.

The turn was coming up again. If Harold Lauder felt or simply allowed himself to feel that same pause as before? So pressed by the notion that he needed to get this task out of the way before he made a real decision, any internal warning was this time ignored. But what he and no one could really know is that while this decently maintained bend in the road seemed no different than any other on a winding mountain path? It was special because it was the one he always met. 

This time? He just happened to be going in the opposite direction when introductions came up. 

Through the visor of his helmet, he squinted, at first uncertain of what he was seeing, and even under the leather of his jacket, he felt cold.

Crows. 

At least twenty, easily more, all sat side by side along the guardrail. 

He hadn't even hit the turn yet when they all took flight, and it seemed an entire cloud of them alighted from below as the first wave dive bombed in his direction, throwing the straight line he had been holding and gliding along. Before he could register the danger in doing so, he was swiping with one arm, catching small bodies and beaks and talons not long enough to break through leather. 

He wasn't fast enough to notice before the bike began to jostle and twist wildly underneath him: He was sure he could feel and hear (even through the helmet and his own protracted shout) the fast clicks and sickening crunches of a huge swathe of the screaming creatures as they began to hurl themselves under the wheel and against the pavement just in front of him. Too-frail bounces and falling still when the impact snapped their little necks and crushed their bodies, blood greasing the road like black ice.

The front wheel hit the guardrail before he even knew where he was in the chaos, and the whole vehicle flipped, throwing him over the side like dirt from the maw of a steam shovel. Flashes of white as papers, supplies, and other sundries exploded after him in his wake, and a second or two of air before he hit the not-quite sheer drop below, craggy with kicked up rocks and the uneven plants that could dig far enough to take root there. 

A limb snapped, something inside of him crunched, and another short fall of empty air before it felt like his left lung had exploded. An old tree, like a gnarled, clawed palm opened to embrace him, had caught him and stopped his fall -- the sharpened stub of a shattered branch broke through his chest, barely missing his heart, but that was a delay, not a saving grace. 

Harold screamed, or tried to -- like one lung would obey but the other strained. There was no one to call out to, because he had come alone. No way to reach any of his supplies, now scattered, and any twitch of motion and the leg that now sat twisted at an unnatural near-45 degree angle outward would let him know his mistake. His hand reached shakily, burning with scrapes of rocks and hard, broken pavement, over the holster for his handgun -- still there -- and into his pocket. Empty. 

He was going to die. It was simply a matter of when. 

"Looks like you're in a heap of trouble, son!"

Bright. Upbeat. Hopeful. What you expected to hear if you had run out of gas on the side of the road or were pulled over to change a tire. 

The man he saw perched atop the guardrail above, just next to the wreckage of the bike (that still tried to sputter with waning life, like its rider), Harold knew immediately, even though his face had always been cloaked in shadow. Clad in denim from neck to ankles, sporting a pair of workboots, buttons that glinted even in overcast sunlight, he had had golden hair, a beard with flecks of red in it, a wide, too-perfect smile, and no eyes. Harold knew he had to have hit his head, helmet be damned, that he could be hallucinating from the pain, but he felt absolutely certain that he only saw bleeding, empty sockets where eyes should be.

The boy knew he was losing his mind, because he could feel him. Everyone on the road to Boulder had gut feelings at times, most of all Mister Gold. Harold never really did. The only part of his body he cared to listen to was his own brain. Everyone was sure they could feel something in Mother Abagail when they finally met her face to face, but not Harold, though he never said. In any dream he had of this man, nothing. 

But he felt the full force of him now. A low droning pulling up from the pit of his stomach and the very air all around him, like the stories said being in a tornado felt like. The certainty of something enormous bearing down on you, about to swallow you whole. Somewhere, far within, the smallest pinprick of something almost human. Something that felt familiar that his addled mind couldn't place, but it brought no comfort. 

Flagg held up a smooth, featureless hand. A gleam of light caught the flawed black stone pendant he was holding. Even though he was nearly thirty feet away, Harold could hear him like he was standing right over him when he spoke. 

"You were told not to put it on unless you were certain." 

That cloud of black began to line the rail again on either side of the man. Iridescent wings, staring, beaded eyes. 

When they took wing and dove for him again, he moved on instinct as fast as he could make himself. Half out of panic, but half knowing that the end that was sure? Would also be much nearer if he pushed hard enough. 

The gun was out of its holster, and he fired at Randall Flagg. 

Like the flash of flipping a lightswitch, the birds were gone. 

The shot struck a bit of gravel just feet from where the man sat. Not high enough. He reached down to wipe away the little bit of scuff left on his boot from the errant scrabble of dust and rocks the bullet sent up. That time, when he looked at the boy, the eyes were there. Blue, piercing, containing all the rage that he wouldn't release into the rest of his body. 

Whatever terror he was about to unleash on the prone Lauder, it would be over quickly, and then at least he could say he fought. 

...But the smile came back after a momentary disappearance. Moving his legs back over the rail in a smooth motion and standing, he straightened and re-popped the collar of his jacket. 

The little yellow face on his left breast seemed to smirk. 

"Try not to go anywhere, kid," he purred. And there was a mistake there, one that the Walkin Dude wouldn't have immediately thought of and Harold, full of adrenaline and hurt, only knew as a reflex, an old instinct firing off. Flagg had just made himself the one thing Gold never did, that no one had been to him since those truckers on the road: the bully. The High School asshole. And it wouldn't heal broken bones or mend a punctured lung, but rather than leave him cringing and openly begging for it to stop, it lit pure defiance in him. 

"Fuck you," Harold choked. 

But the Dark Man was gone, the world around him quiet again, that terrible pressure and presence vanished with him. The stone sat dangling from one of the handles of his overturned motorcycle. Useless to him now but a reminder of what had been there. Not surprisingly, every piece of paper that had littered the mountainside in his wake? Also gone.

So he finally saw him, in the flesh. Maybe. If that wasn't all a hallucination he'd just wasted a bullet on. A little piece of him whispered it was too soon for him to have started seeing things, but whatever that had been: spectre, hallucination, the real deal, he hadn't provoked it into ending things quickly. Instead it spitefully left him to wait. Even if he didn't bleed out, it wasn't as though he could get up, grab a drink of water, or hit the local 7/11. So from his injuries, infection, exposure, or starvation -- he was going. Eventually. 

Not as soon as it should have been. 

But Harold sucked in a stinging breath. Re-holstered his gun. The sight of a bird circling overhead (much larger than a crow) brought to mind the sight of that plucked, eyeless face, and he closed his to shut it out. 

One hour. 

He said he would give it an hour. 

He drifted, the pain finally sending him out for some time, only to stir again when impatience reawakened his limbs with fingers of fire. His ears strained for sounds, other than nature around him. No engines. No footsteps. 

The sun had crossed to the latter half of its arc in the sky. Well more than an hour had passed. 

Part of him wasn't surprised. But he reached into his coat just the same to feel around for his notebook. While light allowed him, he wrote. He could still, and that felt important; even if not a single editor or publishing house had found value in what he put to paper, it was always what he had valued most of him, and even here, surely dying, he still had it, so he would use it. 

A last time. A final Manifesto. 

An explanation? Hardly. That was all in his basement back in Boulder. An apology? Maybe. A regret. For not being braver. For not listening to his gut, maybe, if it had ever tried to talk to him. 

Maybe he could have been Hawk if Teddy had made it. Hawk felt more like existing when there was something in front of him, that wasn't being purposely held out of reach. Teddy Weizak and Hawk, proprietors of a drive-in at the Amphitheater, architects of the Free Zone. All-around great guys. Friends.   

Hawk.

Harold never told Mister Gold about that name, but fleetingly he thought he should have, if only to know what he thought of it. He wondered what Teddy would have thought of the strange old man who claimed to come from fairy stories. Who had the ridiculous name. The name of an imp who spun straw (or knitting yarn) into precious metal. And stole children (at least once.) 

The gun was in his hand again, when possessed of a last impulse, a sort of why not? feeling. Knowing he would never have a chance to say it aloud again, he spoke a name. The one he knew, but Mister Gold had said there was no point in saying aloud. A ridiculous one. 

He did not expect to receive an answer. 

"Mister Lauder." 

Immediately, he was aiming where the sound came from. Reflex. Certainty that the Dark Man had come back. 

Mister Gold stood next to the guardrail, just where he had been. His face was expressionless, mouth pressed into a firm, unfeeling line. 

Harold felt blooms of pure rending agony in his chest when he burst into tears. 

Because whether it was for revenge, for what he had done. To taunt. To send him on his way to the after (but with a lecture first). Or (doubtful) to forgive? 

Someone had chased him. 

[jack-bytez-genuine-corner]

I hate being politically knowledgeable so I'll give some real quick off the cuff reasons why you shouldn't doom scroll but should be a little hopeful and stay engaged, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't take a break over long periods, I'm basically just laying out some potentials for why you should be joyful towards 2026.

* 2/3rds of government would be needed to enact a large chunk of Project 2025 not counting outright SCOTUS intervention. This matters as for the SCOTUS to even exist as an institution Trump can never be more powerful than they are, putting their interests square opposite of Trump's want to be a dictator. Similarly the business wall street interests that propelled Trump to this point will be facing the harsh realities of an unstable economy long before anything even happens. As Trump becomes more unglued he will lash out more and more which will put Wallstreet, that only wanted him for the immediate sell off we're seeing now, pressed between a dictator wannabe's wishes and a US that is even more isolated from it's allies and trade partners while the citizenry themselves are forced to buckle down due to the very little high tariffs that will double the price of everyday goods forcing companies to either drastically drop prices and sell at a loss or keep prices high like they are now and push it off on the consumer who will buy infinitely less as a result. The most scary part of the Republican agenda is a deck of cards that falls over predicated entirely on Republicans ability to maintain the balance between worshipping corporations and keeping the peons angry and content enough to not strike out.

* 2026 is an inevitable Dem flip for 2 reasons. 1, people will actually live with Trump again and will remember exactly why so many people found him unpalatable in the first place. You can also be sure that any RNC mandate to ban say "Porn", that being anything queer or woman health centric, IVF, Abortion and the rolling back of social safety nets will inevitably cause innocent people to die and shell shock the exact same people who voted for him this time around. After all it's incredibly hard to be Latino, MAGA and happy when your own elected officials hate your guts and very real people you know are being deported in one of the most expensive and brutal moves in American history, rivaling Asian internment camps. 2, none of this is predicted on Trump doing anything more than what he already has promised to do and it is not reliant on Republicans being actual, considerate human beings. Even looking at the vote currently lots of voters chose the couch over voting for Harris with Trump propelling his margins in large part due to Fox News, Rogan, Musk, etc. Dems for their part can just play the fact he is killing any indictments against him, can play the populous card as blue dog conservative l institualist Dems is more dead than ever before and actually focus on the issues that get Dems out to vote, and any and every gaff is just going to be free fuel for Dems. Even more, legacy media has effectively scorned more and more Americans who are now engaging alternative media sources like Brian Tyler Cohen alongside other podsters. I include him specifically due to his high quality but you have the Pod Save America guys, you have The Bulwark, all the way to the obvious loony bin manosphere with the first three being examples of HOW Dems can appeal and win future races while the last one is a highlight of a soon to be burned content mill, most notably because, again, it's going to be real hard to hate women that much when women you know and love have to suffer for no reason. You can also guarantee that the worse parts of Trump's base can and will be reinvigorated to be horrible people which is, again, part of why he lost in 2020 to begin with.

* I mentioned Wallstreet, courts and businesses earlier but it is no secret that the incompetency in each of these places is seeping through to a pretty forceful change towards unions, but even past that they have hit the point where they are the dog who caught the speeding car. Taking the business interests first, consumers have become more and more direct with their connection with businesses not being predicated on convenience nor price but on morality. When Target and Bud Light caved to altright extremists who believe the very idea that different people shouldn't be allowed to exist that opened up a Pandora's box that has seen Target and Bud Light continue to lose business, not because Republicans were their core base, but because the common person believes that queer people are acceptable while treating them as second class is not acceptable. Tesla and Musk are on the up in the stock market but the reality is that Tesla itself has been seeing less and less sales vs 100% tariff Chinese EV's due to Musk's extremism. The immediate bump they're seeing now is great for the current rot economy where infinite growth is the only acceptable outcome for investors, but there is absolutely a potential for these companies to scorn so many people that they become persona non grata and can't continue to operate. We've seen the same thing with anti DEI measures and book bans leading to less teachers and schools, abortion bans leading to less workers period, you combo that with the guaranteed hyper inflation the tarriffs will cause and the financial strife we're looking at an economic down turn that a golden parachute can't save you from, mostly because the people themselves will want a lot more than they were demanding prior. For Courts, the overturning of the Chevron decision, combo'd with the historically low effort supreme court means that more and more laws are becoming impossible to enforce, requiring constant SCOTUS intervention, but if that keeps up like we are already seeing it do so the courts will become paralyzed and cause unrest that we have not seen before, again, as the stalling tactics they used to save Trump will now be the reason for people to be subjected to unjust laws waiting on appeal. The SCOTUS, for their part, is guaranteed to be Republican majority who can and will overstep yet again like they did with Roe, but they can't cede power fully to Republicans/Trump because if they do they will cease to have any power, because dictators don't need a court because they are the court. This tightrope means that any dissent is very likely going to cause these current supporters of the RNC being forced to buck the current support they give. This will be made even worse for them when inevitably Trump pardons January 6th insurrectionists, his cronies and himself, reigniting the heated eyes on the courts without the safety net of Dem institutionalists who will likely lose all power following the collapse of the Harris and Biden campaign. Reminder that it was a nigh gift to Republicans that Biden appointed Merrick Garland, a feckless, cowardly institutionalist himself that was so scared of Republican name calling he refused to actually try and charge Republicans WE KNOW we're involved with the insurrection in order to seem nonpartisan, the miscalculation is that there will BE no more feckless conservative Dem institutionalists as the main two are no longer in the running for leadership with Obama and Clinton having now burned every perceivable bridge to guide the party. I won't say this will lead to a Bernie progressive party, but it will absolutely be more populist and you're going to see way less outreach to Republicans and far more to actual voters who actually matter. Republicans win on low turnout, this was a low turnout election, and NOTHING increases turnout like rage, and honestly? American Dems have a lot more to be angry about that Republicans at this point given the complete and total failure of every single institution meant to act as a check on the President and Political officials.

* The only bill Republicans could pass among themselves was a tax cut for the rich from 2016 to 2018, with a lot of their "Accomplishments" being pen and paper executive orders which are just as easily made as they are broken. Their current R House Congress is one of the least productive in history. Do you truly believe they can actually pull off any dangerous bills or constitutional amendments without absolutely fucking themselves over, especially now that McConnell is out of the picture in Senate and any competent Republican in the House like Cheey, the only person who was capable of getting Republicans the SCOTUS and the only person capable of pretending the party has any morals? The answer is they can't. I have no doubts they'll pass some horrible shit, but will they have to kill the filibuster? Will they have a house majority? If they have a house majority by how much and will they play nice long enough among themselves to pass the bills? After all Gaetz and other MAGA Republicans are not popular among their cowardly peers and their cowardly peers have bucked them before. If you ask me I don't think they can. The most dangerous things they can do involve federal agencies and state governments, but if they do those dangerous things it'll piss people off and we'll go right back to the original point that a pissed off population will be extra bad for Republicans due to the fact that institutionalist Dems are now completely out of favor.

Long worded way to say that you can be hopeful for the midterms. I know this country seems like a horrible place filled with horrible people, cause it is, but that doesn't mean horrible people out number people who care about trans people, queer people, women, POC, etc. The issue is getting those people to vote and not just sit on the couch and it also lies in actively talking the insane Republicans back into reality, a thing they desperately don't want to do thanks to Fox News and Republican media sources. I'm hopeful for 2026, I'm just extremely angry that very real, very innocent people who didn't have to die, who weren't going to die, will, because too many people would rather they die than a Black Asian woman be President. Like I can't even begin to state my disgust that we're back at 2016 again, but like with 2018, 2026 will not go well for Republicans who, even in this election were doing worse among the exact same demographics they had in 2016. A rural vote may be worth 100 votes where I live, but make no mistake that they can and will feel the squeeze that they brought upon themselves, and hopefully they'll learn this time. And if they don't, well, I hold the same common courtesy I do for Nazis; I won't even piss on them if they are fire, cause you can't keep hurting innocent people and expect infinite kindness in return.

[heavy-eyez]

Chapter 18: Hotel Horrors (part 1)

(previously "The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly")

Faith

I wake up in a soft bed, with warm sunlight hitting my face. I yawn and stretch out as best as I can. I take a look around, only to find that I'm in a white room, with white sheets on a white bed. I jolt up thinking they've finally thrown me into a loony bin when I spot the side table.

The mahogany wood stands out vividly. There's also colorful art hanging on one of the walls. One thing I know from mental hospitals, they don't allow anything but a bed and a desk bolted to the floor. Everything else is a personal safety hazard.

Just as I start to relax a little bit and lean back, the door to the room opens and Zak walks in. I look at him and he looks at me.

"Good morning." He says softly

I give him a little wave.

"How did you sleep? I was just coming in to wake you up." he says walking over to me.

He sits on the edge of the bed, his black outfit standing out against the white everything in the room. I give him a thumbs up, signaling that I slept well.

"That's good. You fell asleep on the way to California. We're staying one more night here before getting ready to head to the airport while Bacon takes the RV back across state lines." Zak says fiddling with the fabric of his pants

"Where?" I ask softly, testing my vocal cords.

"That's a surprise for you. I promise you'll love it. For now, lets get you out of bed and into the bathroom to freshen up. Does that sound good?" He asks

I nod my head and wait for him to help me out of the bed. He then helps me pick out an outfit that will fit over the cast on my leg, I chose an old pair of sweatpants I got in the foster home, a new faded black shirt that Zak bought me at the mall, and a fun pair of socks, also from the mall. Then he carries me to the bathroom and hands me a towel.

"So this is how you turn the shower on, you just twist and pull up on this little knob here. The water temperature is labeled, adjust how you like. I put your back pack on the counter before I came to wake you up and a plastic bag for your cast. Ummm…. If you need anything, text me and I'll send in Ashley. I'm sure she wouldn't have a problem helping you out." Zak says

I nod at him and he nods back before leaving me alone in the bathroom. I pee before taking a shower, then tie the large plastic bag around my leg. I turn on the water, just like Zak showed me, take off my dirty clothes off, and get in. Ten minutes later, I'm turning the water off and wrapping myself up in a towel. It's fluffy and large. I'm comforted by the feeling on my skin. As I take the plastic bag off my leg, I think about how I ended up in the hotel, let alone in the bed. I suspect that Zak must have carried me in. That must have been tough for him, I'm not sure how heavy I am to him. I pull the socks over my foot, while one is simply folded over the toes peeking through my cast.

The socks help give me some more grip on the tile floor, even though there is a towel on the ground for me to stand on. I'd hate to slip. I pull on a loose bra that I bought in the foster home. I spot a big fluffy robe on the counter. I pull myself up and let the towel drop to the floor so I can put the robe on. When I look up at the mirror, I'm startled to see the mangled skin that I've seen so many times.

The claw marks from the wolf dragging down my shoulder, the thick raised knife wounds, some of which still have stitches holding them together, the scrapes and bruises just now turning yellow. I turn my body around to look at the nastiest one of all. The thick, swollen, red wound being held together by staples, dried blood falling off of it, moves with my arm. I squeeze my eyes shut and fumble around for the robe. I slip it on over my shoulders, careful not to look at myself in the mirror.

I text Zak to let him know that I'm out of the shower and I need help applying some ointment to my back before I get dressed. A few moments pass and Zak comes into the bathroom.

"Just point and I'll put it on for ya." he says

I pull the robe off my shoulder and point to the wound on my back. Zak tenses, I can feel it. I point again to my back and this time I hand him the tube of ointment. Zak seems to snap out of his thoughts and takes the tube of ointment. Gently, he applies it to my shoulder.

"Does this hurt?" He asks with every touch

I shake my head as he keeps applying.

"I swear, if we ever find these guys, I'll kill them for what they did to you." Zak says

I shake my head. I hate the thought of someone being killed. Especially in my name? It'll be like their blood is on my hands. I sit patiently as Zak finishes up with the ointment. After he leaves, I put my clothes on, brush my teeth, and freshen up everything else. I text Zak again after wrapping a towel around my hair. He comes back in and carries me back to the main sitting area. All the guys are in there, just talking about random stuff. I'm set down on the couch right next to Dakota, who scoots over to give me some space. I just sit there trying to keep up with the conversation, but find that I don't understand what they're talking about. I end up scrolling through messages on my phone as they talk travel plans, camera set ups, editing, etc.

Dakota texts me suddenly. I tap on his message.

'do u know what instagram is?'

I type out my most used reply.

'Yes. I got it a few days ago'

A few seconds later, Dakota's next message pops up onto my screen with a link.

'Follow me?'

I tap the link and follow his instagram account. I take a look at his posts. He has a lot of fishing pictures, forest pictures, and even a couple of pictures of him watching Zak on TV. I tap on a funny picture of Dakota dressed up as a grandma and show him the picture.

"Oh dear Jesus. Why." He says turning bright red.

I smile and scroll through, pointing at pictures that stand out to me. He explains that he has a YouTube channel where he posts funny skits that he films and edits himself. It's very interesting t hear him talk about what he's interested. I get hungry and I remember that there is a vending machine at the end of the hall by the elevator. I send a quick text to Zak asking if I can grab a snack from the vending machine on my crutches.

He looks at his phone, reads the message, looks up and me and nods. I have Dakota help me off the couch and into my crutches before making my way into my room to grab my wallet. Dakota walks with me out of the hotel room and down the hall towards the vending machine. I get excited as this is the first time I've ever used one. There's a lot of choices but I want something sweet. Fruit snacks or candy.

I pick the fruit snacks and put in my money. Just as the machine starts to roll my snack out, I see something move out of the corner of my eye. Dakota bends over the grab the pack of gummy snacks for me and time slows as I look up. A feeling of dread washes over me upon seeing the figure.

We stare at each other and I watch in slow motion as he smiles evilly at me. His words come back to me.

"I'm not finished with you just yet."

The blood drains from my face as time suddenly speeds up and I stumble backwards into the machine and almost over Dakota. Luckily he catches me, but I'm trembling and starting to hyperventilate. I need to get away from here.

"Hey kid what's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost!" Dakota says pulling me back into reality

I shake my head. This is much worse than a ghost. I need to keep my cool before I have a meltdown in the middle of a hallway.

"She's not looking too good. Maybe she needs some water. My hotel room is just a few doors down, we can bring her in to sit for a moment." He says to Dakota

'NO' I want to scream at him 'DON'T FOLLOW HIM!'

"That's okay, I think I'm gonna take her back to her dad. Thanks though." Dakota says sensing the panic in my breath.

"It's really no problem, I'm right there, I'll run and grab her a water or you could bring her in." He says pushing the idea

"I said no. Thank you for the concern but I trust her father to help her." Dakota snaps as he lifts me into his arms

I cling to him as he walks down the hall to our room. By the time I'm set down in the living area with all the guys, I'm dizzy and hyperventilating harder than ever.

"Faith? Take a deep breath. You're okay now." Dakota says

Zak looks at me with concern in his eyes. I just shake my head. Nothing is okay. It's horrible. I watch as Dakota explains to Zak what happened in the hallway. Without thinking I get up and pull myself, unassisted, to the room I woke up in. The door slams shut behind me and I curl into a ball on the floor by the bed. I don't have the strength to find my anxiety medications. The bag seems so far, I'm out of breath, and tired.

My head spins and spins, eventually throwing me into a nightmare with my kidnapper swinging a knife at me. Nothing could prepare me for this full scale panic attack. I'm terrified and shaking, laying on the floor, complacent, just like when I was there. I hear a door open somewhere and my name being called faintly. I look around but find no one except him. The footsteps get closer and closer. I shut my eyes and press my hands over my ears to block out the sounds. It doesn't help, only muffles.

"Faith!"

I let out a blood curdling scream and the world around me goes black.

[ao3feed-harleyquinn]

Harley's Revenge

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/iD6dOfp by SophiaHawkins "That's what always happens. Have you noticed that, Mistah J?" Harley asked as she gestured with emphasis, "It's what always happens, every time we go out on one of your big plans, Batman shows up, you try to kill him, he chases you, and the next thing you know we're all back in the loony bin until the next time!" The last syllable was barely out of her mouth when she felt the Joker backhand her across the mouth and cheek so hard she fell on the floor. "Don't you ever question my plans, you got that?" he said to her as she curled into a fetal ball. "I'm the brains of this outfit and don't you forget it!" Harley chanced opening one eye and said in a lower tone than usual for her, "I'm starting to get bored with this arrangement." Words: 2448, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Batman: The Animated Series Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Batman, commissioner james gordon, Harleen Quinzel, Joker (DCU) Additional Tags: Not a Love Story, Not a pairing story, comeuppance, Can we acknowledge these two are the definition of a toxic relationship?, Seriously these two should not be shipped, Harley deserves better, The Joker finally gets what he deserves read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/iD6dOfp

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

Harley's Revenge

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/qHTua0z by SophiaHawkins "That's what always happens. Have you noticed that, Mistah J?" Harley asked as she gestured with emphasis, "It's what always happens, every time we go out on one of your big plans, Batman shows up, you try to kill him, he chases you, and the next thing you know we're all back in the loony bin until the next time!" The last syllable was barely out of her mouth when she felt the Joker backhand her across the mouth and cheek so hard she fell on the floor. "Don't you ever question my plans, you got that?" he said to her as she curled into a fetal ball. "I'm the brains of this outfit and don't you forget it!" Harley chanced opening one eye and said in a lower tone than usual for her, "I'm starting to get bored with this arrangement." Words: 2448, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Batman: The Animated Series Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Batman, commissioner james gordon, Harleen Quinzel, Joker (DCU) Additional Tags: Not a Love Story, Not a pairing story, comeuppance, Can we acknowledge these two are the definition of a toxic relationship?, Seriously these two should not be shipped, Harley deserves better, The Joker finally gets what he deserves read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/qHTua0z

[the-firebird69]

Cher - Walking In Memphis [Director's Cut] (Official HD Video)

So the story is over any more luck all over all done she's got Mary's guitar and it's really my wife's now we have to make them we did help make them and know she's not my sister thank you either one of them no one is a sister-in-law from a different clan and she's her sister is there a reason why you're saying something stupid yeah.. anyways the guitar is important not many people would have that walking in there and you can see her husband in front of the bus but the other guitar that's actually Elvis's real guitar that I was practicing on and had at the house and I got for Christmas and I was really happy about it. But I'll tell you what you missed it the whole thing now people are going to look and what a looney looney bin that place must be

Zues haha I have to listen to some of it not much but yeah it's a loony bin Hera

These people are nuts both of them all these Macs are insane they don't like to lose and they're sitting there sending people off and the idiots are going to be stuck in their territory out there and they're sensing and trying to find out what's going on and they have to fight armies off now and they're going to and it's a war and this is why because people think it's true and our son and daughter do too and it's heating up in Egypt and Star wars will begin

Thor Freya

Olympus

HOLY S*** HOLY S*** IT'S OVER THE MAC PROPER HEAD TOO SO YOU GUYS ALL HAVE TO PAY UP LOL

Trump

Shut up you dildo want a moron but holy s*** what a moron not want one Jesus this is terrible but hilarious I'm in the video laughing cuz I get there and it's our area and it's crappy and that's not why I can feel the energy and I can feel people up and they're looking and excited and they want to talk about Saturn finally this guy is right these are giants and they're a nightmare and we need him and we need his wife intact and I see what his brother is talking about he's dangerous as hell but his brother the first one Dave is extremely deadly and I used to talk about stuff and they're kind of arguing now if you know what it's about you would see it the kid is sharp but the guy has power now it's harsh this is hell I can't believe it and he says it's probably old school like an Egyptian tomb that you see a wall but it's really movable and moves with ease only if you find the way to open it we're going to have some times here that's for sure but now there's a war and we're in it and it's over this tunnel that may have taken all the information including information on new computers of the Max and they're saying they're infected and we're not being attacked and we haven't lost that much from the stashes and caches no we did and we lost it from The Middle except the computers are not like attacking and we know why

Cher the second and yes one of her characters that's Mary

Olympus my son and daughter will be a little bit free now it's going to be more harsh and she's a little upset but he says it's fine I'm going to be a big man about it and she's laughing saying boy you're a nut too

[innerdreamercollective]

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Cute but Psycho by @beatrix.hollow

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Blurb:

I'm certifiably insane. Just ask my amazing therapist. He's my soul mate and a vampiric serial killer. There's no one I'd rather stalk more.

Except no more late-night slinking for me. I'm in the Asylum, committed as a danger to myself and others. They tell me I'm delusional, and they aren't wrong...except about what.

See, this place is made for supernaturals too dangerous to let roam free. The doctors, the staff, the family members that helped put us here are all in on it, trying to convince us magic is just another delusion. They plan to keep us here forever—sedated and docile.

Aren't we all just perfect test subjects for inhumane experiments? Well, the doctors think so at least.

Yeah...it's time to bust out of the loony bin. Unfortunately for our zookeepers, we're the most dangerous supernaturals there are, and we haven't been taking our medicine.

A genetically modified super alpha wolf monster. An ultra-rare basilisk so venomous he can't leave any skin exposed. My dreamy serial-killing vampire therapist.

Oh, and me. A genetic marvel, one of the few dhamphyr to ever exist and probably, just a little...more crazy than most.

Nighty night Asylum. Don't let the nightmares bite.

#NowLive #NewRelease #ReleaseBlitz #PinkFlamingoProductions #TheFlockonTour #CutebutPsychoAudioTour #BeatrixHollow #AleskiGraves #JayRaymond #RipDevons #TheoSinclair #WhyChooseRomance #ReverseHarem #DarkRomance #ParanormalRomance

[vatt-world]

hi

the coup we are dead workshop was success anglina daughter derek kathy

joe meets debra outside im fired dev kathy - house dev in bar daughter trust fund erek meets kathy kathy sings back off derek anglina father fight eva hangs out with friends and dance u will love it its a new musical rock edge we thot we would show it to u i cant believe u would do that we made a terrible mistake derek tom fight 11 years ago we have to b relaistic weneed a title they want a star dev made a curry

lets be bad Karen, can I borrow you for a minute?

Yeah, sure. What do you need?

I could use a hand.

The bridge sequence from Let's be bad isn't working.

Okay, should I…?

Just follow me.

Come on, just relax. What are you afraid of?

I'm not afraid of anything.

Well, we both know that's not true.

Meaning what?

You're afraid of you.

You're terrified of anything below the neck.

You have some problem with follow-through.

And again.

My God, Frank, you poor thing.

What, they can't get you out on another flight?

We have a workshop in 13 days,

and we still don't have a final script.

There are three new scenes that are coming along great.

She just doesn't want to show anyone.

You've read them.

Julia and I share the same brain.

Talking to me is like talking to myself, so I don't count.

13 days, Tom.

I'll tell her.

Hey.

Hello?

Sorry. Are you making a call?

No, it's just, uh, Frank. I keep losing him.

What's up? // I just don't want DiMaggio to come off as a complete tool

where we're not rooting for him

to come back into Marilyn's life.

Well, that's a murky issue, isn't it?

What's murky?

I mean, the guy might not have been husband of the year,

but he was the love of her life.

That's just not necessarily the show I'm writing.

The guy sprung her from the loony bin

and planned her funeral.

If he's not the guy, who is?

It's not just a love story.

I'm trying to explore some bigger themes.

What's bigger than love?

So was that it? Were those all your notes?

I like to think of them more as thoughts.

Am I not allowed to share my thoughts with you anymore?

No, don't worry.

I will take care of Mr. DiMaggio.

He will not be a villain.

That Frank?

No, it's a weird number.

I don't know who it is.

What's he off doing, anyway? //

The vibrato.

I'm sorry?

You're not getting the vibrato on the note

the way Marilyn did.

I thought that's what I just did.

No, you didn't.

Well, it's hard on a belt.

For crying out loud, where's Karen? Karen!

I'm right here.

Show her how to do this.

Do what?

The vibrato on the note.

The vibrato?

Happy Birthday.

Just sing Happy Birthday.

You want me to sing hap…

My God. Is there a problem here?

What, am I not speaking English?

Just stand up and sing Happy Birthday as Marilyn.

I've seen you do it.

♪ Happy Birthday ♪

Did you hear that?

Karen, maybe you can work with Ivy on that.

Set something up with Larry. Let's do it again, please.

/// You're drunk, Ivy.

What are you going on about?

No. No, no, no. I'm not the problem. You are.

You blow so hot and cold,

I don't even know what day it is anymore.

You are so hideous to me in rehearsal…

I'm hardly hideous.

You humiliate me…

When you're not ignoring me!

Half the time, I feel like I don't even exist

for you in there!

No one does.

I am not kidding.

And this isn't some big, romantic statement

about who I am as an artist… It is just a fact.

Don't give me…

Don't give you what… The truth?

Isn't that what you came here for?

Look, I am building something in that rehearsal room,

and with all due respect, it would be a lot easier

if everyone pretended just for five minutes

not to have all those annoying feelings,

because frankly, they get in my way.

Theater is about feelings!

You can have feelings.

They just need to be about Marilyn.

I'm not kidding.

I know you're not.

Are you staying?

Are you asking me to stay?

Come on…

Don't be mad at me.

Come on.

Can I tell you again

how incredible you look in that dress?

Thanks, babe. This our table? //

lets be bad angelinaon phone kathy and derek debra tom lunch date joe and debra - diner kid arrested dev and kathy-outside museum debra and kid debra talks about meeting joe angelina bring book assitant helps login derek is upset with happy birthday debra and tom working on final song kathy and ava working together grown woman derek son with debra in bar kathy and dev derba and joe ava and derek humliate me kathy /dev kathy dev debra amd joe sing

the workshop You giving my actors notes?

I changed a lyric without asking.

Were they any good?

Pretty good.

Okay, so, what's this new lyric?

I'll go get it.

Is it hot in here? It's really hot in here!

I actually just overheard the building manager talking.

He said there's a problem with the boiler.

Okay, I'll go talk to him.

It's ridiculously hot.

We've got investors coming in tomorrow!

////

Derek has some questions about the breakup scene.

Did Ivy get here?

Still hunting her down, but he doesn't want to wait.

They're looking for you both.

Look, I talked with you about this, two hours ago.

I called the plumber as soon as you spoke to me.

And yet we still have a problem with the heat?

What can I say? It's New York.

Those guys… They're on their own schedule.

Perhaps you could call again.

I have an extremely important workshop happening in 24 hours.

I would be happy to do that.

It's just they got contracts on a lot of buildings.

They can't always get the guys over here right away!

//// They want me back at the recording studio,

like, right now. What do I do?

Here.

Linda…

Karen has to take off for an hour or two. /// It's even hotter in here than it was before.

Sweltering.

Daddy, daddy!

Daddy's working.

I'm sorry.

We were in the neighborhood, so… ////

It's why she's been so erratic with the pages.

It's completely out of control. They…

That's enough.

I won't pretend this isn't useful information, /// Who the hell is that in my boiler room?

I called a plumber.

I want him out of here immediately.

Not before the heat is fixed. // Okay, I'm talking to you as your director now.

Get your head in the game. You are great in this.

And you can do it better than anyone,

but I need you to focus.

The show needs you to focus, okay?

Is that all?

Yeah, that's it.

Yeah.

You do not talk to an actor like that

at intermission.

Well, you do if they're off their game. // It didn't help that you told her

she was off her game at intermission.

You said that?

Yeah, I did. I was directing her.

Look, Ivy's terrific,

but she's been in the ensemble for how long?

Look, they turn down the wattage to blend in.

And they can't turn it up again.

Ivy was terrific under impossible circumstances,

and you didn't help. // Okay, do you want to fix the show,

or indulge in paranoid fantasies?

I'm not paranoid. This happens all the time.

Things don't go well,

and instead of figuring out the problem,

everyone picks a scapegoat and then gangs up on them.

That's all this is.

Tom, Tom, Tom. Nobody is scapegoating Ivy. // Now, I was hoping we could get some of these investors

to come onboard on the strength of the material.

But we're gonna need another piece.

It was too hot….

The heat didn't help. // the workshop

she crosses street - kathy kathy meets producer , he is sleeping kathy sings well derek has q about breakup scene angelina there is heat problem and they need to showcase kathy - they want me back ava mother comes

debra crying outside i have to go home kids smoking pot ava and kathy progenis in bar angelina derek on bed looking at his notes heat problem workshop is going to happen today hit out of this building badly maintained replacing ivi with a star i dont think i can do this apologise for delay i need u to focus derek it was incredible i need to rethink some stuff sucking up ava and mother one kind word i have seen people pass u by, u are star - ava mother reviews - confused show is great we need package it ava is treffic sabtoge her real problem is michael there are some problems

chemistry

Absolutely.

Do you want some coffee?

What time is it?

$7 million?

That's not a lot for a musical these days.

Well, if you want to give me $15 million, Ralph,

I won't say no.

Well, you'll need it to get to Broadway.

Well, actually, we're just looking at a workshop

and an out-of-town tryout. //// 22b comes after 18, replace 21 with 19.

No, I have 12 replacing 21.

That was last week. Don't confuse her.

When do they stop changing everything?

Five seconds before the performance.

All right, if we put the fox number here

and then we put the Johnny Hyde scene here

and then… wait… The… the…

Yes, Natasha Lytess scene here,

it will heighten the progression.

My God, this isn't a high-school science project,

it's a bloody musical!

No, it's a workshop!

A first workshop!

And people are coming to see it!

Could we dial this down?

Look, there is no discernible story,

linear or otherwise, between pages 7 and 32.

That's not a gap. That is a black hole.

And if you don't fix it this week,

we're all going to get sucked into its tidal force,

and all we'll be left with is "Marilyn the red dwarf."

Okay, look, there's been a really crazy situation

at home, okay? My husband has been out of town. // Derek is mad because Julia didn't finish a song,

and then Tom and Julia and Derek

got into a huge fight over the script,

and Tom stormed out of rehearsal.

I just thought you might like to know. // Shoot.

Listen, I've been having some problems

with the whole transition to the breakup scene.

We can talk about it tomorrow.

I don't want to take up rehearsal time.

Could I call you tonight,

or maybe even right now we could grab a coffee?

Tomorrow would be best.

// According to the doctor,

her throat is inflamed but not infected.

There are no nodules or polyps.

Did he give her a steroid?

She has some prednisone, yes,

but she's hypersensitive to drugs,

so it's not necessarily her best first option.

So what are her other options?

She's gonna try vocal rest for the night.

Okay, what are our options?

Can we postpone?

Well, that'd be difficult.

How difficult?

Well, a lot of our investors already have it on their schedules.

If we postpone, it sends the wrong message.

Okay, what about our other Marilyn? Can she do it?

Hang on!

Yeah, I'd love to hang on, but I've just found out

I've got to do an entire workshop

about Marilyn Monroe with no Marilyn. // So what did he say?

It's inflamed.

Strained more than anything.

It's stress.

He gave you prednisone, right?

Well, that's good. That stuff is a miracle worker. // Marilyn is back.

She got better that fast?

She's probably on prednisone.

That drug is a miracle,

if you don't mind the mood swings, insomnia,

hair growth, hallucination, and weight gain.

Listen, I just got a last-minute recording gig,

//

Did you take it?

First dose… six pills.

And?

I'm… I'm having cold sweats.

I've had a headache since, like, 4:00 in the morning,

and I-I just feel so panicky.

I'm not in good shape.

Yeah, what about your voice?

Look, Ivy…

I want to protect you in this situation, but, you know,

if you take the day,

I'm gonna have to get the Cartwright girl to fill in… You know that.

I'm fine.

Okay.

Good.

Ladies and gentlemen…

Marilyn is back.

She got better that fast?

She's probably on prednisone. // I just came by to let you know that rehearsals are going great.

Ivy took the prednisone.

She sounds awesome.

Good.

Do you need anything else? // Look, she's just upset, all right?

One of the side effects can be, like, mood changes.

I know. I've taken this drug before.

Lie down. Come on.

There it is.

What did he say?

It's a text that says,

"might need you tomorrow. Please be discreet."

And Tom sent this?

Yes.

Did you call him?

It says "be discreet."

If Ivy finds out, it could make her worse.

What's-your-name… // Our esteemed lyricist has finally finished the verses

for History is made at night.

Since we're six days away from an invited audience,

I'd like to work quickly.

So let's try it with the original staging

and see if it fits the new words.

Places for the second verse, please.

And if you guys could try it without the pages,

that would be super.

Just do it.

No, no, no. I got it.

Great.

All right, then. // While we're stopped, I have a thought.

Maybe you could give me notes

without publicly humiliating me at the same time.

Great.

And maybe… maybe you could remember that artists

are not football players who can take endless abuse

and still do their jobs!

Okay.

Miss Monroe is having a moment.

Well, maybe a different miss Monroe could do it better.

Miss Cartwright?

Maybe you could take a crack at it.

Let's take a ten.

No, seriously, Derek…

We should have given them more time with the lyrics.

I don't need more time with the lyrics!

You know what I need?

I need to stop sleeping with men

who are complete narcissistic pricks!

And you're not that good-looking!

And you're not that good in bed either!

It's just a side effect from the steroids.

You all right?

Yeah, I will be.

Well, that was quite a bit of unscripted drama today.

I probably shouldn't say anything,

but I rather enjoyed it.

// chemistry voice issue 7 million hard to get practise debra arranging scenes -workshop fight derek credit card bill this low voice issue rehearsalvoice issue dance routine practise cold now on katherine arranging things joe debra tomrowis best other options katherine overhears leading lady vocal flows she takes drugs derek talks to ava katherine prepares i can do this debra thinks of her relationship pancakes debra husband back derek 6 pills cold sweats im fine marlyn is break she takes progonac i have avi gig ..can u sub katherine takes barmitchav angelina on phone joe and debra i want to see u angelina looks high rise apt katherine dresses up for gig debra and tom work on song i kissed mike tells tom he sang to me what about u tom debra hangs out with bartender she takes more tablets -- its going to fine she sings at bar mitvah tom date tom meets ava ..side effects i saw her katheine sings at bar mitivah debra with husband can i see u alone phone call ava hangs out with tom katherine sings debra with husband katherine gets a card of music producer debra meets joe …cant call me voice is fine talks to debra she is under my nerves ava sings a song with joe derek shouts ..because maybe give me notes she walks away u are alright angelina meets producer

[casspurrjoybell-32]

All It Took Was One Look - Chapter 4

*Warning Adult Content*

Aiden

After that crazy family episode Jeanine, Eric and I made plans to hang at Starbucks for a while.

It was our favorite hangout spot.

It was a Sunday and I was dying to get out of this house, Nash was still hounding me about what mom was talking about on Friday.

He just didn't believe me and I was starting to get annoyed.

I literally had to slam the door in his face and lock it, he was knocking yelling to open the door for a whole five minutes till he finally gave up.

I mean damn do I looked like a damsel in distress?

I can handle myself. Jeez.

And this is the reason why I'm planning my escape from this loony bin I call a home.

I took a quick shower, towel dried my hair;.m

My hair was naturally straight so I didn't have to waste my time on it.

I bumped into Connie on the way down stairs.

I quickly grabbed her by the arms and steadied her on her feet.

"Dang Con, my bad," I said to her, I really don't think that she heard me though since she hand her iPod in.

I walked past her into the kitchen where my dad was drinking coffee and reading a new book.

Sitting at the table across him I took an orange off the table and began to peel it.

It was silent for a long while.

I was half done with my orange when my dad finally looked up from him book and said something.

"So what's on your agenda for today?" he asked meeting my gaze.

I shrugged stuffing the rest of my orange in my mouth.

"Eric and Jayare coming to pick me up to go to Starbucks."

I got up to throw the peels away and turn towards him leaning a hip on the counter.

He nodded taking a sip of coffee.

"You should take Connie with you. She's been bored all day," he suggested.

I frowned at him like he was crazy.

Connie has friends, she doesn't need to hang out with mine.

"She has her own friends. She doesn't need to hang with mine," I voiced my thoughts.

He sighed and shook his head.

"I think her and Jennifer had a fight. She's been moping around here all weekend. So I thought you could be a good big brother and take her mind off of it. Or is that just social suicide," he said with a fake shocked face.

I suppressed my smile as I shook my head at him.

"Okay, okay. I'll take her," I huffed at him leaving the kitchen with slouched shoulders.

I knocked on Connie's door.

"Come in," she yelled.

Opening the door I saw her laid out on her back reading some teen magazine.

'Con and her magazines,' I thought mentally shaking my head.

I looked around her room and saw all the posters and articles she had torn from them tapped to her walls.

Her room was a sky blue but every inch of the walls were coved in her stupid posters and pictures of friends.

Looking over to her, she was staring at me impatiently.

"Hurry up and get dressed were going out," I said before turning to leave.

"Okay," her chipper voice followed me as I left.

I grabbed my cell-phone from my room and called Jay.

"Hey man," Eric's voice startled me, did I call the right person?

As I was about to check he said.

"Yes you called the right number dumbass but Jay's driving," he said.

I rolled my eyes... smart ass.

"We're almost there," I heard Jay yell through the phone.

"Yeah like she said we're almost there," he said.

"Oh okay. I just called to let you guys know that Connie's coming with us," I told him and heard him repeat it to Jay and regrettably her scream.

'OMG I miss her we have so much to talk about.'

I held the phone away from my ear wincing as it started to ring.

God I hated it when she did that.

"Tell her to warn a person first before she goes all banshee statues," I growled at Eric.

He chuckled repeated it to her.

Connie came in my room and sat on my bed waiting for me.

I looked at her and rolled my eyes at my cell-phone causing her to giggle.

"What?" I asked Eric because I missed what Jay was saying.

"She said to get off and shove it," he repeated, I could hear the smile in his voice.

"Yeah I'll shove it in her mouth," I said.

Connie looked at me with as her jaw dropped.

Oops I forgot I had to be g-rated around her.

"You do know you're on speaker right?" I heard Jay say.

I shrugged and said...

"Doesn't change a thing."

"Whatever jackass. We're outside now. Hurry up. I NEED MY CAFENIE," she screamed again but this time I just hung up.

My friends are just as crazy as my family.

"Come on," I told Connie as I left the room.

We bounced down the stairs.

"I'm leaving," I yelled to whoever was listening.

I heard my dad answer, asking if Connie was with me and I answered yes, rolling my eyes as we made our way to the car.

As we climbed in the back seat Jay turned to look at us.

She looked at me with a big smile.

"Hello fat cow," she yelled in a fake British accent.

"Hello fatter cow," I responded with the same.

"Hey Con Con," Jay said excitedly.

"Hey, Jay," she said smiling brightly.

At least she was happy.

I'm going to have to ask her what happened with Jennifer at some time..

"Hey man," I heard Eric said from the front seat reaching back here to do the guy handshake.

"Hey," I said, back at him.

"Alright. It's time for my daily dose of COFFEE," Jeanine yelled before pealing out of the drive way.

Not long after, we were at Starbucks ordering.

"And you, sir?' the lady asked me.

"I'll have a mocha frap with an extra shot, no whip, please," I said then looked down at Connie.

"What do you want?" I asked her taking out my wallet.

"Same as you," she said walking over to where Eric and J sat as I paid and went to join them.

"So how's life Con Con," Jay asked, taking a sip of her drink.

I don't know how she did it but her coffee was already ready when we got here.

We all gave her a crazy look which resulted in...

"What, I got hook ups bitches..." and sat down enjoyed her crack because that was what coffee was to her.

"Ah. A bummer..." Connie answered.

"Aww, why?" she asked her straw still in her mouth, like a breathing tube or something.

Eric noticed as well and we started cracking up.

She gave us a weird looks before focusing back on Connie.

"Well me and my best friend got in to it on Friday," she muttered.

Now I'm listening.

"Oh and what happened?" Jay asked straw still in her mouth.

"Well I mean we were having a great time, we were watching the new season of vampire diaries and then her cell-phone rang so I grabbed it playing around, you know. But when I saw who was calling. I got mad. I mean why would he call her?"

"Aiden. Connie."

Our names being called interrupted her story.

I quickly got up and grabbed the drinks thanking the lady and heading back.

Handing Connie hers and a straw I went back to focusing on her.

"Thanks," she said to me before continuing.

"So anyway, like I said I was confused as to why he was calling her. So I asked her but she started acting weird and wouldn't look me in the eye, then I just knew. She was going out with Bobby, MY Bobby," she said animated.

She had a scowl on her face.

Then it hit me, she said 'My Bobby.'

She's only fourteen, she doesn't need to be dating.

Or calling them hers.

I mean I'm seventeen and I haven't even been kissed... Don't judge me.

"No. So this bobby guy is like your boyfriend or something?" Jay asked consumed in the story.

"W-well not exactly, it's just that I really like Bobby, ever since fifth grade and here comes Jen trying to steal him from me. She knows how I feel about him," she exclaimed throwing her hands in the air.

I looked over to Eric who was shaking his head at how ridiculous this conversation was.

"So she finally told me that Bobby asked her out and she... said.... yes. So I left and haven't talked her since."

"Well hun let me tell you something," Jay began.

"A boy isn't important enough to ruin your friendship with Jennifer. So here what you do. You go back to your friend's house tell her that what she did was wrong especially if she knew how you felt about it. Then sit down and finish watching vampire diaries because Damen's a sexy beast," she finished... taking a congratulatory sip from her drink.

I shook my head.

"Yeah Con you shouldn't even be thinking about boys in the first place," I told her sternly.

"Your one to talk," she scoffed as she sipped her frappe.

My heart stopped as I realized what she said and who was sitting at the table.

My gaze snapped towards Eric and he had a confused look on his face.

He was frowning at Connie before he turned to me.

I looked to Jay with pleading eyes, she caught it.

"Sooo, E-r-i-c," she said dragging out his name to grab his attention.

"Did you meet any hot girls in Alaska? Oh, wait they were probably all cold weren't they, am I right?" she said raising her hand to him for a high five.

Eric stared at her with wide eyes before busting up.

"Ne-never i-in your l-life say that again," he exclaimed clutching his stomach as he hunched over the table.

"What, I thought it was clean," She grumbled around her straw.

"Yeah but it was so puny," Eric said taking a deep breath.

"No but seriously I didn't know that place was hiding all those furry booted babes, I would have visited my pops a long time ago. Like the time when I found out what my dick could do."

This caused me to choke on my coffee, Connie was hitting my back as hard as she could. It really didn't help.

Once I caught my breath I gave Eric a death glare.

"What?" he asked giving me and innocent look.

"My sister's at the table," I hissed glaring at him.

His mouth formed an 'o' then he grinned sheepishly.

"My bad Con," he said to her and she just waved it off.

"You're such a pig," Jay said taking a swig of her drink.

"Oink, oink baby," he said wiggling his eyes suggestively.

Connie started to laugh at that.

I just shook my head, ever since we had seen that 'Saved by the Bell' episode this is how these conversations ended.

"So Aiden, are you up to going with me next time to my pops so we can wreak havoc on the ladies?' he asked, looking at me intently.

I just laughed nervously.

"Y-yeah, l-let's get in th-those pants," I said awkwardly clearing my throat.

I caught Connie's frowning face.

"What? But I thought you were..." Jay quickly stated coughing loudly causing Eric to pat her back worriedly while I shoved Connie's straw in her mouth.

"Let's not let this go to waste," I said patting her head. I sighed grabbing my coffee.

My hairs going to turn grey before this day even ends.

[otnesse]

Fully agreed regarding Ariel and Beast. They may not have suffered PERMANENT consequences, but that DOESN'T mean they didn't suffer consequences, because they most certainly did (and if anything, the fact that it wasn't permanent if anything meant they did a DANG good job cleaning up their mess). Heck, Beast's whole character arc wouldn't even exist if he truly didn't suffer consequences.

That said, I will say that Belle would ultimately be a character who truly DIDN'T suffer any real consequences to her actions (and just so we're clear, I don't mean she shouldn't have gotten a happy ending. Obviously, for the whole ending to work, she'd NEED and more importantly DESERVE to get a happy ending. What I mean is that the way her happy ending was written comes across as so forced and badly written ultimately that it didn't truly feel earned even when it was SUPPOSED to be earned). What happens immediately after swapping places with her dad in the dungeon is that she ends up being transferred to a far better bedroom via Beast partly at Lumiere's suggestion (heck, if anything, Beast outright SPOILED her by giving her free access to nearly the entire castle, which was definitely not something Lumiere actually suggested to Beast, with the only explicit exception being the West Wing). Belle's argument with Beast before dinner, where she rudely refused him DESPITE his making an ACTUAL effort to try and act like a gentleman, greatly swallowing his pride in the process, briefly had her being denied food as punishment, which his servants IMMEDIATELY disobey once she comes down. Belle going to the West Wing, disobeying even the servants even when they themselves disobeyed a direct order from Beast by giving her a dinner and a show, oh and also explicitly violating her end of the deal by fleeing the castle [made worse in that not even a full DAY had passed since making the prisoner exchange], while it DID have her technically suffering consequences in the sense that she nearly became wolf food had Beast not intervened, she barely gets any REAL telling off (Beast attempts to tell her off for her more spiteful act of disobedience, but he ends up losing the argument to Belle), not even having Belle actually acknowledge she was partly at fault for what happened at all, and it's left unclear whether she even started to like Beast after that [yes, she did thank him for saving her life, but the scene where Beast is about to gift her a library had her giving a glare towards Beast when he requested she close her eyes that made it look as though she STILL hated him even after all that]. Basically selling out Beast to at best save her father from the loony bin and at worst purely to get out of marrying Gaston, while she DOES acknowledge she was at fault there, the best she could do to fix the situation was end up unintentionally distracting Beast long enough for Gaston to knife him in the back when she arrived at the last minute, and the only reason there was ANY happy ending at all was purely her saying "I love you" at the last possible second even though there was little showing she actually LOVED Beast beforehand (if she truly loved him, for example, she would have found another way to save Maurice that didn't entail exposing Beast to a lynch mob, and ESPECIALLY to a guy she by that point fully deduced was a complete scumbag willing to go as far as to blackmail her into marrying her and thus realistically would have deduced him to be the type to kill anyone she might even SLIGHTLY like better than him).

I'm sick of seeing people complain that certain Disney characters "Don't suffer any consequences" for their mistakes, when obviously they do.

For example, that Ariel "doesn't suffer any consequences" for her deal with Ursula. You mean other than almost turning into a polyp, seeing her father sacrifice himself and suffer that fate in her place, and then nearly being killed by Ursula? Just because everything turns out alright in the end doesn't mean she never suffers for her mistake!

Or that the Beast "doesn't suffer any consequences" for his early beastly behavior. You mean other than being turned into a beast in the first place, facing the threat of being cursed forever unless he learns to love and to earn others' love too, being rejected by Belle at first – the person he knows is his last chance to break the spell – when he doesn't treat her right, seeing her nearly killed by wolves because he scared her into the forest, then nearly dying himself in saving her from them, and having a whole character arc of becoming a better person?

It seems to me that when they say that these characters "don't suffer any consequences," what they mean is "They get happy endings, which I don't think they deserve."