#I can’t I believe I forgot Susan and Susan interacting?!

[secretly-a-catamount]

Susan Pevensie being a companion of the Doctor, is that anything??

[hydroponicjj]

No Body, No Crime [2]

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Female!Peterkin!Reader

Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: Mentions of Drugs/Alcohol, Swearing, etc

Summary: Rafe is finding himself having trouble trusting Y/N, even after what she did for him.

A/N: Hello! This is the second chapter of No Body, No Crime. Please enjoy and, let me know if you’d like to be on the taglist! <3

「 ₊˚.༄ 」

The entire drive over to Topper's made you extremely nervous. Your stomach felt as if it was in a knot that couldn't be undone.

It only got worse when you began to recognize the scenery of Figure 8.

It was unusual of you to be so anxious.

Usually, you’re hyper-focused. You don’t have time to worry about all the possible things that could go wrong but, Rafe made you feel different.

Typically, the two of you would only interact in passing. Oftentimes in the kitchen at his house when you needed him to help you reach something on the top shelf.

Now, you’re about to see each other in a brand new light. Going from strangers to...

Honestly, you didn’t really know how to classify this blossoming relationship, considering it hasn’t started yet.

Turning a corner into a neighborhood, you recognized Topper's mansion almost immediately.

It was the second house on the right with pillars and a baby blue door. There were tiny American flags pitched in the yard with small lights showcasing their entrance.

There were so many cars parked on the street and in the driveway that it was nearly impossible for you to get close without clipping a vehicle.

Finding a good spot near the sidewalk, you emerged from your car, making sure to check that it was locked (a habit you learned from your mother).

Drawing closer to the front door, you spotted Rafe.

He was sitting ominously in a rocking chair on the porch, looking out into the yard.

"Hey." You called out. He broke from his intense gaze and glanced at you.

"Shit, I totally forgot that you were coming." He pinched the bridge of his nose, turning his head.

"Well, I'm here so.." You trailed off, taking a seat next to him.

Instantly, Rafe began to draw away from you. You noticed but refrained from commenting on it, not knowing what his problem was.

It wasn't long after that the tension started to fill the air. You’re usually the one keeping your distance from him, not vice versa.

“Are-Are you going to say anything?” You asked, nervously.

You had no idea what made his energy shift from the last time you spoke to him but, this wasn’t the same Rafe that you saw that afternoon.

“What do you want me to say?” He replied sharply, glancing over in your direction.

You were taken aback by him, “Rafe. You asked me to meet you here. I have no idea what the hell is going on. So, I just— I wanna know what’s happening.”

He froze, inhaling deeply. It was clear that he was searching for the right words to say that would get his message across.

“Y/N, I don’t trust you. You might be Sarah’s best friend but, you’re also the sheriffs' daughter.” His voice was cold and distant.

He genuinely viewed you as some kind of threat. Less than 7 hours ago, he was more than willing to rope you into whatever he had going on, and now, you’re just a burden to him.

You scoffed, “You seemed pretty happy to get your drugs back this afternoon. Was I the sheriffs' daughter then?”

“I stole from my mom, Rafe. That’s not something you just do for fun. Especially when you have a lot to lose on your end, okay. So, if I rat you out, I’m going down too.”

Guilt instantly flashed behind his blue eyes. It was evident as his features began to soften and he lowered his eyebrows.

He began to speak but, you cut him off, “Listen, Rafe, I don’t expect us to go out and get matching tattoos anytime soon but, we have to learn to trust each other, or else this thing isn’t going to work.”

He chuckled lightly, flashing you a crooked smile, “Yeah.” Rafe replied simply.

The loud booming of music coming from inside filled the silence.

“Didn’t you graduate high school yesterday?” Rafe asked, quirking his head to the side.

“Yeah... I-I did.” You replied, still surprised.

You weren’t valedictorian like your mother planned but, you were pretty damn close. Still, it wasn’t enough to satisfy Susan Peterkin so, you spent the entirety of graduation sulking.

You didn’t even get a chance to enjoy your High School graduation.

A sour taste formed in your mouth as your throat began to get tighter by the second.

Rafe noticed your sudden discomfort, “Well, you’re at a party. Why don’t you go inside and have fun? Celebrate the milestone.”

“You should celebrate too. I mean- finishing your first year of college.” You acknowledged, awkwardly trying to shift the conversation toward him.

“I took a gap year. Too many things to do and not enough time.” He shrugged.

You were so entranced by the way Rafe spoke. He wasn’t like you, who felt the need to give the deepest, most profound explanation for everything.

He was simple.

You liked simple.

Standing up, you extended your hand in his direction, “Come on,” you paused, grabbing him by the wrist, “We’re going inside.”

“No no no,” he protested, “I already told my friends I was leaving so,” Rafe resisted your grasp, staying firmly in his seat.

“I think we can handle Topper and Kelce.” You scoffed, giving him a playful look.

Rafe knit his eyebrows together, contemplating. It had already been an extremely long night. But, he was having a hard time pulling out the response from his chest.

"Shitttt," He drew out, "What the hell. It'd be nice to see you pull the stick out of your ass and relax."

Eyes lighting up and a smile tugging on your lips, you yanked on his wrist again. This time, he rose from the rocking chair, peering down at you, "Don't make me regret this, Peterkin."

"How could you possibly regret anything when you're with me?" You sent him a sly wink.

Twisting the front-door handle, you entered the Thorton household.

Your senses were instantly triggered. Your ears struggled to determine which was louder, the music or screaming of teenagers. Your eyes reacted to the fluorescent light projected on the ceiling.

The scent was absolutely putrid. Sweaty bodies and alcohol were not a good mixture, not under any circumstances.

"Ugh," Covering your nose with your right hand, you peered back at Rafe. He seemed completely fine.

This was normal for him.

Watching as he maneuvered around this situation with such ease inspired you.

Rafe was a complete mystery to you. Although with every interaction, he became less of a riddle, it was still a challenge trying to figure him out.

Abruptly, someone from behind you yelled, tearing you from your trance, "I said that you'd be back!"

Turning around, you saw Kelce and Topper making their way towards the two of you.

"Yeah, yeah," Rafe responded, playfully, drifting closer to his two friends.

A mere seconds later, Topper noticed you standing at a feeble 1 and a half feet shorter than Rafe.

"Holy shit," He gasped, "A-Are my eyes deceiving me, or is Y/N Peterkin at a party?"

This caught Kelce's attention and, he certainly couldn't resist making a sly comment, "How's your mom? Is she still 6 feet up the Pogues ass or....?"

Scoffing, you began to walk away but, something caught your shoulder.

"Listen, she's a bitch but, not as nearly as much as you think." Rafe defended.

You couldn't help but laugh, “Thanks.”

Yes, it was a shitty, backhanded compliment. But, it was coming from Rafe Cameron so, that's the best you're gonna get.

"Yeah, I'll believe it when I see it," Commented Kelce, turning his head to look around at the scenery.

“Rafe,” Topper paused, “Are you trying to get even more fucked up tonight?”

Glancing at Rafe, you noticed how tired he looked. Drooping eyes and hunched shoulders gave away how he was feeling.

“No, he has other priorities on his mind.” You chimed in.

“Ohhhhhhhh.” Kelce raised his eyebrows.

Wiggling two fingers between the two of you, “Are you guys....? You know?”

“Shut the fuck up, Kelce. You’re a goddamned idiot.” Rafe rolled his eyes, pushing his friend lightly.

“Relax. I’m not gonna swoop in on your girl. Just curious who you’re fucking this week.”

Glancing up at Rafe, he appeared extremely fed up with the current conversation.

“Come on, man,” Topper said, pulling Kelce by the shoulder, “Let’s leave these two alone. I’m sure they’ve got loads of shit to catch up on.”

The two walked out of the entryway, side by side, and floated right back into the epicenter of the party.

“Why do you do that?” You questioned, almost instantly.

Looking in your direction, he responded, “What are you talking about?”

Sighing, you began, “You willingly hang out with Dumb and Dumber,”

“You could be surrounded by people that are on the same intellectual level as you. Yet, you surround yourself with people like those 2 that are only interested in being so high that they can’t remember their name.”

Rafe shook his head, “It doesn’t matter.”

There he goes again. Being simple. Summing up everything he has to say in a mere 3 words.

"He deserves better than that." You thought but didn't say.

In your head, you could see Rafe walking away from the conversation and, you wanted him as close as possible (because you're not used to parties.... no other reason.... of course).

"This is stressing me out," You commented jokingly, running your hands through your hair.

If you weren't so hyperaware of your surroundings, you would've missed the way that Rafe was glancing at you.

He looked as if he was trying to decipher what was going on in your head.

“Come on.” He nodded his head in the direction of the living room (aka where 90% of the party-goers were).

You grinned slightly, “I was deprived of partying my entire 4 years of High School. I don’t think I should start now.”

You turned around and sat on the love seat in the Thornton entryway.

“You dragged me back in here so, the least you could do is sway your hips to some shitty music.”

“Maybe.” You smirked, teasing him.

“Alright, I’ll find Topper and Kelce. I’m sure they’ve got something interesting for me.” Rafe began to exit the room.

“Fine,” you rose from your seat immediately, catching his attention.

You shook your head in disapproval, “So manipulative.”

A smug look was plastered on Rafe’s face, “Yeah, well.... it worked.”

He shrugged and sent you a smirk.

「 ₊˚.༄ 」

You had never felt so free in your entire life.

It was surprising that such a wild atmosphere made you feel a sense of comfort and enjoyment, rather than fear and anxiety.

Maybe it was the fact that you clung to Rafe for the majority of the time.

He was such a social hotspot.

People of all ages and demographics were speaking to him. He kept the conversations brief and, it was clear that he wasn't very interested.

Nevertheless, he was dragged into a game of beer pong, and (with the help of Topper and Kelce) he agreed to play BUT, only if you did.

At first, you were hesitant, having no idea how to play but, there was something inside of you that hated the thought of saying no to Rafe.

You indulged him and decided to play, with the exception that you didn't drink, considering that you had to drive back home to the Cut.

It took a few tries for you to actually get the hang of things but, Rafe helped a lot.

He would often adjust your form, wrapping his arm around your waist and tugging you in another direction.

It made you nervous yet excited having him in such close proximity to you, whispering in your ear which direction to throw the ball.

Ultimately, the two of you ended up winning against Topper and Kelce (who were pissed that they lost to such an inexperienced player).

That was the beginning of the fun.

After that, you didn't feel the need to cling to Rafe as tight as you had been before.

You went off and had conversations with people that didn't go to your High School, which also meant they had no clue who your mother was.

You used to be extremely familiar with Figure 8 and you often found yourself missing it from time to time.

It was very nice to be able to surround yourself with people that weren't foaming at the mouth to run and tell your mother everything they saw.

It wasn't until you began to dance, swaying your hips to the beat that Rafe found you again.

"Y/N, I--I need a ride home." He began, speaking in a low but rushed tone.

"What?!" You yelled, not being able to hear him over the music.

You took a glance at him and, he looked horrible.

His eyes were extremely red and he reeked of alcohol and plenty of other illegal substances.

Not only that but, Rafe seemed extremely jittery. Almost as if something bad was going to happen if he didn't leave immediately.

Seeing the stress of the situation, you gripped Rafe by the arm and tugged him out of the hectic scene and into the nearest quiet room.

Finding a bathroom right before the kitchen, the two of you entered.

You sat him on the edge of the tub, crouching in front of him.

"Rafe," You paused, clutching the sides of his face, "Look at me. What's going on?"

Opening his eyes, he began to speak, "Please, just, please. Take me home." He buried his head into your shoulder.

You were stunned by his actions, having no idea what drug he took that made him act like that.

But, now was not the time to question Rafe, he needed your help and after all the progress the two of you made that evening, you weren't going to leave him behind.

"O-okay, okay. Yes, I'll take you home."

You stood up, continuing to hold his arm, afraid that he'd fall back into the tub.

"Rafe, can you stand? Can you walk?" You asked.

He nodded then rose, towering over you.

"Here," You directed him towards the sink, "Splash some cold water onto your face, okay?"

He did as you told him, gathering a scoop of water in his palms and splattered it onto his face.

After, he seemed slightly more coherent but, not nearly enough.

The two of you emerged from the bathroom. You were still clung to his arm, leading him in the direction of the exit.

Once, you left the inside of the house, you were bombarded with cars from all angles.

It then hit you that you had to park on the street.

As you led Rafe down the infinitely long driveway, you cursed in your head, upset at the universe for making you work against gravity in order to keep him from face-planting.

Finally, making it to your car, you reached in your pocket and unlocked it.

Opening the door to the passenger's side, you plopped Rafe in the seat and buckled him in.

You ran around the front of the car, trying to get back to Rafe as soon as possible.

"Rafe, do you have everything? Your phone, wallet, keys?"

"Mhm." He replied, setting his head on the back of the seat.

With that, you took one last glance at Rafe and put the car in drive.

「 ₊˚.༄ 」

Pulling into the driveway, you noticed that the Cameron household was quiet.

The only light coming from inside was the glare of the TV from Wheezie's room.

"Rafe, we're here." You said, shaking him. He had fallen asleep seconds after you started driving.

He didn't waste any time getting out of the car. Unbuckling his seatbelt and opening the door, he headed in the direction of the garage.

As he approached, it opened.

"I know they're rich but, damn, motion detected garage?" You commented, continuing to watch, making sure Rafe made it inside safely.

It wasn't until you started saw him stop that you noticed a figure standing in front of him.

It was Ward Cameron.

"Shit."

You knew Ward was going to give Rafe crap for staying out late, partying so, the least you could do was try and cover for him.

Emerging from your car, you walked towards the garage.

"Rafe, I need you to do it, okay? I don't want Sarah getting involved-" You caught the end of what Ward was saying before he stopped.

"Y/N!" He greeted, a smile on his face.

"Hey, Mr.Cameron." You waved awkwardly, sending a forced smile.

"Thank you so much for bringing this one home," He grabbed Rafe by the shoulder, pulling him into a side hug.

"No problem! I just needed his help with some things. The least I could do was take him home." You replied.

"Yeah, yeah," Ward nodded his head, looking back at the door.

"Listen, Y/N, thanks for putting in a good word with your mom. We really appreciate it."

"I'm sorry?" You knit your eyebrows in confusion.

"I got a call from the station today saying the charges against Rafe had been dropped. All of us are so thrilled that we can resume a normal life and move past this." He placed a hand on his chest.

You had no idea what he was talking about. Your mom wasn't home yet. There was no way she could've seen the drugs had been taken from her safe yet.

But, you had to play it cool, not wanting Ward to ask any questions "Sure, sure." you answered.

"Okay, welp," He paused, "Have a nice night, Y/N. Come by tomorrow and see us." Ward finished, hurridly.

With that, he turned around swiftly and went back inside his house, through the garage door.

That entire interaction was odd. You had never seen Ward act so tense.

Also, you couldn't help but wonder what was so urgent that Sarah couldn't do?

It had been less than 24 hours and, you're already wrapped up in things you couldn't begin to comprehend.

"I need to sleep."

Walking back to your car, you entered the driver's seat.

Putting the car in reverse, you exited the Cameron house and began your journey back to the Cut.

TAGLIST *strikethrough it won’t let me tag*: @oopsiedoopsie23 @a-bolanos @cocobutterqween @gabiatthedisco @athenastarkey @halsmultibitch @water13 @avaspringtime @niamhvivo @haterpenny @nerdypartytrashpsychic @casually-kook @mynameberose @malfoylaufeysonweasley

[ughgclden]

bee, love, don’t apologise, please, it’s okay, and first and foremost, are you alright?? i hope you’re taking care of yourself, love, but i understand, i don’t think there’s been a year since third grade that i haven’t gotten pneumonia in the winter. I hope you’re feeling alright!!

honestly, dead poets society is one of my only personality traits anymore, i find myself drawing parallels to it constantly, for no reason but i love thinking about it. i’ve watched it so many times at this point, it’s,,, concerning. those tests always take me way less time than they give me, and i used to feel really awkward, i remember i took a bio one once, four hours they gave me, 45 minutes in, i was finished, and the moderator didn’t believe me. i aced it too, like the silly little neil kinnie i am. i’ve gotten used to the ‘worse’ side of being a neil kinnie, and honestly, now that my mum isn’t as controlling about everything as she used to be, it’s easier to deal with. i remember once, i’d gotten an 89 in algebra, and she threatened to pull me out of the fall show. that was a neil perry moment if i ever had one lol. the biggest thing these days is just imposter syndrome, imposter syndrome like oh you’re not hispanic enough, but also, you’re not queer enough, nonbinary enough, things like that. It’s exacerbated some days, but i try.

i watched the it movies on my cousin’s hbo,,, i may or may not have used it without her permission since she forgot to log out of my computer, but that’s neither here nor there. i remember having such a hard time taking the first one seriously initially, because of all the new kids on the block jokes, having a mum who was obsessed with them made it hard, especially when i actually got them all- in truth, the only midnight premiere i’ve been able to make was the force awakens, and i had school the next day too. i’m definitely a richie kinnie, and i have the internalised homophobia (only towards myself though) to prove it /hj my waterbottle has both a sticker of neil on it and a sticker of the r + e carving on it. in case there was any doubt about me lmao. stan kin makes sense for you, honestly, i can see it, i can see it.

okay so listen- no really, i’d bought them with the intention of only drinking half of one that night and spreading them out like that, but then came 9:45pm, and i had a research paper (on womens’ pockets/lack thereof) due at 10am that i simply hadn’t even started, so i downed them all in an hour and got the paper turned in at 5:56 in the morning. but i scare you huh? /hj bee, you’re too sweet, in truth, i’m fairly inelegant, but i try, as for the comforting and cosy, i’ll take you at your word, since that is something only someone interacting with me could discern. i do try to be kind to others for the most part. mainly i think because i’m usually on the other end of mean people.

i’m just perceptive like that bee, i dunno what to tell you, something just tells me, you know? /j and thank you, i always feel a little silly talking about it, because most of the tattoos i want are dead poets society tattoos, i guess some part of me, within the part of me that feels so incredibly tied to it, feels as if if i were able to get a tattoo i’d owe it to the movie in some way, if that makes any sense. i’ve already begged a friend of mine to go with me to get my first once i get to new york, the question though, is what to get first. i’ve got time to make a decision (for once in my life) i just spend a lot of time thinking about it.

honestly, i have never known a school rule to make sense. banning ripped jeans? banning dyed hair? it’s almost as if if they don’t stifle everything natural about kids expressing themselves they dont feel like they’re doing anything. but i digress. the same-sex couple rules were. awful. 12 year old me had enough going on without having an administrator yell at my friend and i for hugging in the courtyard and not leaving until we were a foot apart, but hey.

okay, jumping over a fence to go to a mcdonalds? how coming of age indie movie manic pixie dream girl of you /hj

200k words, is that a challenge? also ahaha not at all like my italian uncle up there just opened a ‘pizzeria’ /hj but mob!star au? might be a project i should start… granted, i’m not as good a storyteller as you, but i can try.

when i was little, i wanted to revolutionise things, i guess. i even actually wrote out a campaign, i wonder if its still somewhere. thank you for believing in me, but these days, bee, i’m thinking less about changing the world, and more about making it the next few weeks, and then the ones after that. little star was aware of so much, but also so little. i wonder what they’d think of me now, honestly.

i did, in fact, teach archery, it was so fun but my arms got SO SORE, and the kid who challenged my archery skills seemed surprised when i actually,, hit the bullseyes. my inner susan was happy then. incidentally the experience is also why i made a playlist called “touchstarved and wanting to teach you to shoot a bow” which low-key slaps when i’m lonely. and bee omg i cannot believe you said im better than susan pevensie i will be thinking about this for the rest of my life thank you- and yes, yes it was named aslan, however did you guess? /j prince caspian<33333

i’ll let you know my results from the tournament, as soon as they come out, and i say this having just put on pjs after taking off my suit, and sitting in the room with my cat in my dear evan hansen hoodie, frantically refreshing the results page because i’m anxious and impatient.

i hope you have a good night, with fitful and restful sleep, i’m sorry this got to be so long, but you know me, i certainly can talk. i’m honestly shocked i even made it to finals, considering i was running off four hours of sleep, having gone to bed at three last night. whoops.

all my love, hugs, and a warm mug of tea,

yours,

star✨

p.s i said yes so that?? happened?? it honestly feels surreal but we’re not gonna be in the same place anymore come the end of this year, so that’ll be something to deal with

P.p.s might just start adding spanish or latin or russian phrases to these if i keep having to translate your cute french bee /lh /hj

star my love, i know you said don't apologise, but i think the word 'sorry' makes up about 60% of my vocabulary. i'm okay!! was just a bit icky, but luckily i've recovered now!!

that's so nice - and again, makes so much sense for you. i think you would work perfectly in welton, i know it. i love bringing the messages from that film into my own life, as silly as it may sound. i'm astonished, and so fucking jealous of you. i used to finish tests maybe half an hour early, but hours is so impressive??? fun fact i did finish my physics final in about 45 minutes and slept for the other hour <3 neil would b proud my love!!! oh my god - i'm so sorry that happened??? but that is also so neil kinnie??? it seems futile me saying this, but i assure you that you are hispanic enough, and queer enough, and non-binary enough. you are enough, period. more than enough even. imposter syndrome is the worst, and i'm so so sorry you're dealing with it.

she did that to herself, you just saw an opportunity /lh a midnight premiere of the force awakens sounds so cute though omg - i hope you had the absolute best time. the r + e carving actually broke me. as a die hard reddie shipper since 2017, seeing the movie make it basically canon?! had me a mess in the cinema.

you are ridiculously comforting and cosy, everything about you feels like a warm hug from a familiar face and i love it. and the way you write is so smooth, it makes me think of a quill smoothly gliding across parchment, the deep black ink unsmudged and pristine. that seems a little pretentious of me, but oh well.

i also want some dps tattoos!! i desperately want "and still we sleep" from todd's poem, and was also so so tempted to get an outline drawing of meeks + pitts dancing on the roof. i love that, and i can't wait until the day you get it, whichever one it may be. my one concern is becoming addicted to them and making my bank account suffer - at least my piercing obsession is a little easier to fund /hj

i've NEVER gotten that - they claim it's 'distracting' but how on earth would it be?? when i got to college, no one was distracted by my dyed hair, and i certainly wasn't distracted by other people's outfits or painted nails. you were yelled at. for hugging. a friend.. what the fuck is wrong with these people??

just call me ramona flowers star /j it was possibly the highlight of my school career, sans hiding in the back room of the music room to avoid a maths test

i bet you're an amazing storyteller, if these letters are anything to go by. it would be a new york times best seller, i know it

we all have to take things one step at a time, i think. that's the only way i really get through things if i'm honest. one day after another and the cycle repeats. i love wondering what young me would think of me now - i'd probably be intimidated of myself, but i like to think i'd be proud that i'm still here, pursuing something i love

that playlist. sounds nothing short of sheer perfection. i too am touch starved and want to teach someone to shoot a bow - even though i.. cannot shoot a bow... but i can wield a sword so, it's close enough.

i saw your message about the tournament results - im so fucking proud of you!!!! you deserve it so so much and i couldn't be happier for you. see, your words and ideas are changing the world, even if you don't realise it.

ps; that is so fun???? omg im so happy for you star, you deserve tis <33 i hope towards the end of this year whatever happens leaves you both happy, no matter how far the distance.

pps; omg no.. please don't do that.. aha that would be awful... definitely wouldn't make my heart race.. haha not at all

all of my love, star. pardon the pun, but you are out of this world ;) i'll leave you with one of my favourite quotes;

il n'y a qu'un bonheur dans la vie, c'est d'aimer et d'être aimé <3

[okaybutlikeimagine]

Max getting jealous of Billy's and El's relationship cause she got the big brothers always wanted right off the bat while max suffered with douchebag billy for years. Angst ensues, naturally.

Yes. yes. And YES. (I hope you don’t mind that I mixed these two!!)

Okay i have so many thoughts about this and w/ every little thing i write that includes Billy and El i think about what it must do to Max. bc i love Max and I wanna give her hugs and ohmygod guys MAX.

(And i should probably preface this by saying I haven’t read Runaway Max so i don’t necessarily know what’s canon but also i’ve been melting canon down to what i want it to be so i guess this won’t be very different from what I normally do, huh??)

Anyway i talked about it in the ask prior to this but I Highly Believe that Billy and Max’s relationship pre-move-out-mayhem was bitchy at most. Like I think they were snarky and a little rude to each other but they were still supportive. Bc they lived in a house w/ a man who got mad so frequently. and i don’t think Neil ever touched or ever will touch Max (i have extended thoughts on this but we don’t have to get into it here, i’ll just leave it at the gist) but Max knows something is wrong. Sees the bruises on Billy’s face and hears the yelling and the harsh sounds and harsher words. Never ever talks about it bc Billy always barks at her if she tries. But she’ll let him have the last popsicle he loves so much or she’ll let him take as much time as he wants fixing his hair in the bathroom in the morning or just any little thing that makes something even a little better. Bc she’s still a kid at this point, there’s not a lot she can do, but she can do little things like that.

And i headcanon Billy as having been a brat but still doing things for her. Like when he has to babysit her and he’ll take her down to the boardwalk and buy her an ice cream but he’s like: “Don’t get used to it.” as if he didn’t just do something super nice. He does her hair for her bc as a kid she was Helpless at putting her hair up and so he started helping her and just never stopped. Did her hair for her bc it was easier than sitting down to teach her. Cooks dinners for her or even w/ her when Neil and Susan are out to dinner or out of town or whatever. Drives her to school every day when he gets a car and they argue over music but really she kind of likes his music, even though she’d never tell him. She gets into some of the bands he likes and steals a couple of the band shirts he lifted from stores when they get too small for him. He teaches her how to skate and even gives her his board when he gets his car. She’s ecstatic about it and he brushes it off by pulling at her hair and saying: “Whatever, dipshit, now I won’t have to drive you to the candy store or wherever it is you go.”

She punches his arm.

He chuckles and kicks at her heel lightly as they walk.

They just… they’re brats but they’re SIBLINGS. And yeah they’re half siblings but Billy is adamant in S2 about the fact that they’re family. That boy loves Max and Max loves Billy bc they grew up w/ each other and faced so much shit together.

But right before the move… and during the move… and after the move…

Billy gets so rough. He’s angry all the time. Stops doing her hair and yells at her when she asks. Laughs when she tries and fails to the point where she just leaves her hair down and unbrushed bc it’s just easier. He’s on edge all the time and takes it out on her and he vaguely sees himself doing it but he’s red and angry and uncaring bc fuck this fuck all of this.

He blames everything he sees bc it’s easy and facing the reality of his whole situation is hard and he’s just tired. Wants to be given a break but he hasn’t been given a break for years now so he’s absolutely exhausted. He kicks and punches walls and he slams his door in Max’s face when she asks him a question and he shuts himself away bc it’s easier to do that than face anything and it’s bad. But Billy isn’t sure what qualifies as bad and good anymore, he just knows what hurts and what doesn’t and everything hurts but hiding almost makes it feel like it doesn’t. He used to not mind being his sister’s keeper but now he fucking has to babysit her goddamn 24/7 and he’s in a new town where he knows NOBODY and he can’t be open here bc it’s in the fucking midwest and he’s just angry and hurt and so damn fearful so he gets mad. Stressed. Takes it out on everything and everyone and Max.

So Max loses her brother.

She loses him mentally and emotionally and then she loses him physically.

Bc Hop finds out, and he adopts Billy, and then Billy’s gone. But Billy makes it very clear to her once he’s gone that “If anything and I mean absolutely anything happens with Neil, you tell me straight away. Got it? I’m living with the goddamn Chief of Police now, we’ll get that guy in jail so fast I swear.”

Max just nods.

But nothing ever happens. Neil is kind of a dick but he doesn’t get as angry. He’s strict but not physical. It makes Max angry though bc she hates the thought that it was just Billy that made him so horrible. She doesn’t wanna believe it. Sure this man gave her her brother but she hates him for pushing him away.

And Max loves El. She really does. She loves El to the moon and back, hanging out with her is an absolute blast, having a friend who’s a girl feels like a godsend sometimes bc boys are stupid and girls are soft and pretty and lovely.

And she tries real hard not to be jealous of El. She really really does. And she tries real hard not to get mad at Billy either, really. It’s just that…

It sucks. And it hurts. Bc Billy is so calm with El. He’s so brotherly and caring and good with her. He takes her to ice cream and does her hair and jokes around with her. He lets her brush his hair and he buys cookies and stuff for her and they have little inside jokes now. He’s soft and gentle with her. He shows her new music and he hugs her all the fucking time and wow it sucks.

Because Max had to deal with all of it before it became this. Saw all of Billy’s pain and felt pain in her heart over it and then saw through Billy giving her pain and felt physical pain over that and then saw him leave and now feels emotional pain over the fact that she doesn’t get him anymore.

And he still drives her to school everyday. He still drives her around when she asks, even if he bitches about it. He shows her new music and he willingly hands over his too small band shirts. He’s still a protective little shit over her. He hangs out with her and messes around w/ her when she goes over to visit El.

But the thing is… El gets to keep him… and Max has to go home to no one.

And Max likes her mom. Would never wanna leave her mom. Her mom is the one thing that keeps her grounded to her previous life- her life even before Billy. Dealing with dickish Neil is sometimes worth it bc she still has her mom.

But her mom isn’t really home all that much. And even when she is, hanging out with her isn’t as cool or fun; sometimes it’s kind of draining. She just wants her brother back.

And Max is a goddamn firecracker too. Just like her brother. She’s hotheaded and straightforward and she just gets so frustrated bc whatthefuck. But she doesn’t wanna lash out at El bc it’s not El’s fault and she doesn’t really wanna lash out at Billy bc she’s happy he’s happy now but goddamnit she had to deal with all of the trauma and now El gets him at his best without the worst and she’s just pissed.

So sometimes she’ll get fed up. She’ll come over to hang out and she hears Billy and El making their own little inside jokes and watches Billy pick El up and swing her around while El giggles and sees Billy helping El read things like titles to movies or cereal boxes or ice cream cartons and Max’s face will get red and she’ll storm out of the cabin grumbling about skating home.

And Billy doesn’t like that, doesn’t really want her skating home from here, so he follows her out, leaving El inside, shouting: “Wait up, Max, I’ll drive you.”

“Don’t bother.”

“Quit being a brat, you shouldn’t be skating that far this late.”

“Me skating home never worried you before.”

“Cut it out, I just don’t want anything happening to you-”

And Max turns, face red, hair in flames around her head as it whips around her and she yells: “You’re not my brother anymore!”

And Billy is seriously taken aback. Bc to him he never stopped being her brother but here Max is, angry and spitting in his direction with her anger, gripping her board tight and her nose crunching up in that way he almost forgot about.

Max huffs.

“Just go have fun with your new sister.”

Billy’s chest flares up.

“Fine, shitbird!”

Max gets on her board and shoots a middle finger up behind her as she skates away. Billy slams the door when he heads back inside.

And they make up real fast. A few days later El wants to see Max to go shopping and there’s no one to drive them but Billy. So they’re a little pissy with each other but Billy gets them a couple of sodas and Max hip checks him a few times so he knows they’re cool again.

But there’s still that tense feeling in her chest. That sick feeling in her throat. That pounding in her head as El tries on a bunch of shirts and Billy jokes around with El and ruffles her hair and pokes her forehead.

She watches them interact and it presses at her chest too hard so she forces herself to speak. She needs it off her chest she needs it gone.

“Billy?”

“Mm?” He grunts out.

“Do you… like El more than me?”

And god something about it cracks Billy’s heart. Bc he loves Max, he really does. He’s done so much in his life to protect her and help her and teach her. They grew up for years together. They’ve been through too much shit for him to not love her. and he’s never seen her so self conscious before.

There’s a long pause of them sitting there, Billy’s head spinning a bit, before he looks to her and takes a dramatic sigh.

“You know… to be honest… I hate all of you runts just about the same.”

He chuckles when she punches him. “I’m being serious!”

“So am I! You big group of nerds leech all my money,” Billy begins counting the list on his fingers, “make me your personal driver, keep me from fucking my boyfrie-”

“Shut up! God you’re so grody!” Max shoves at his shoulder.

“Grody? Excuse me Max, grody? Who are you?”

She shoves him again and sighs. Billy watches her.

“What’s got you so worked up, brat?”

Max grumbles, nose scrunching up before she gives an angry huff.

“I hate this. I don’t want to hate it but… you’re supposed to be my brother.” She’s angry, face turning red but there’s almost tears in her eyes and Billy hates seeing them there. “And El gets you when you’re nice.” she tilts her head back against the wall and looks up to the ceiling. “I bet she doesn’t even know how much of a dick you can be.”

Billy chuckles.

“I’d beg to differ. I’m still being a dick.”

“Doubt it.”

“Seriously, Max. You know me, I was born a jerk.”

“Were not.” she mumbles. He flicks her ear in response.

She yelps. “Hey! Jerk!”

“See?” Billy laughs and lightly shoves her shoulder. “Quit worrying about it. I’m serious. Yeah El gets me now that I’m in a good spot but you understand me, y’know? We get each other. Or whatever.”

Max rolls her eyes but seems pretty pleased with the answer. Billy gives a satisfied grin before folding his hands behind his head and leaning back.

“Besides…” he drawls. “It’s no secret that Will is my actual favorite.”

Max punches his side and Billy makes a pained noise over his chuckle.

“See? Will wouldn’t hit me!”

Max rolls her eyes again but she’s smiling. She’s glad Billy still thinks of himself as her brother bc she doesn’t want him to go away. She lost him once and doesn’t wanna lose him again. 

And yeah it still kinda sucks… but she likes the relationship she has with Billy. Plus, after their little talk Billy starts being overly nice to the point where it’s clearly a joke. He grabs the sides of her head and gives a big, dramatic kiss to the top of it. He scoops her up into bone crushing hugs. He holds doors open for her and acts real dumb about it and starts calling her things like “Sister dear” to the point where Max just says: “Cut it out you’re being annoying. Just go back to being a jerk.”

He laughs and punches her shoulder lightly.

“You got it, shitbird.”

[isthisthingeven0n]

wouldn’t you like to know : d.d

brief summary: david continues to prove that he is, in fact, more like iron man than captain america, despite everyone knowing the facts. yet, your previous job and who you worked with might do some good in convincing him to stop trying to think he’s iron man once and for all. 

word count: 1.7k requested: nope - I wrote this over my lunch break as I was thinking back to carly and erin’s vlogs and thought this would be cute.  warnings: none that I’m aware of. maybe david’s bruised ego 

* masterlistin’ *

“Dave, as much as you hate to admit you’re totally Captain America.” Carly jokes and I join in, watching as David shuffles further underneath his blanket with annoyance evident in his expression.

Huffing loudly, David faces me with a pleading look. “You know them, Y/n, am I really Cap?” His eyes lock with mine as he silently begs me to lie.

“Honestly, David? I don’t think you’d want my answer.” I lean back with a smile on my face as he rolls his eyes.

“I still can’t get over the fact you used to work with the cast of Avengers.” Jason shakes his head, despite the number of times it’s mentioned they still act like it’s the best thing since sliced bread.

Shrugging my shoulders, I smile to myself. “It was a good time in my career, I’ll admit. And I made some really good friends too.” 

“Are you friends with Robert?” Erin asks as David’s interest peaks, his eyes widening as all focus turns on me.

“I mean, he’s a busy man.” I laugh uncomfortably, but I can tell there’s no way I’m getting out of this conversation. “But yeah, when we all have a chance we try and meet up for lunch or something.” 

“How did you not tell us this?” David asks, completely stunned by my statement.

“Not something I really talk about I guess.” I tuck my hair behind my ear, brushing it off as the conversation moves on from my career and the friends I’ve made, onto more important topics such as Jason’s stand up show. 

As I sit and listen, I can’t help but look at David with his soft smile. He gives me a simple nod, holding his arms open and moves his blanket for me to join. 

Rising to my feet, Jason continues his sentence, not stopping on my account as I curl up into David. “So really, who am I more like?” David whispers to me and I roll my eyes.

“I told you, Dave,” I state as I glance up to his big brown eyes and a cheeky grin on his face, seeing dimples appearing briefly. “you wouldn’t want my answer.” 

*

Natalie nods to me as I take out my phone, checking to see if he’s messaged me yet. 

“What’re you doing?” David asks suspiciously as he walks into the living room with his laptop, quirking an eyebrow to me as he sits down beside me. 

Placing my phone away I shake my head. “I’m not doing anything, and clearly you aren’t either.” Quickly changing the subject, David opens his laptop up and yawns loudly. 

A small laugh escapes my lips as I see a picture of Robert Downey Junior in his Iron Man costume is David’s screensaver. “What? If I wanna become my idol, I gotta open up to the inspiration.” He says with full intent as he smiles to his screen.

“Want me to leave you two alone?” I joke as I rise to my feet, only to have a pair of arms grab a hold of my waist and pull me back down. 

With a shriek, David refuses to let go of me as I sit on his lap, a bright smile on both of our faces. “God, I love you.” He whispers and I lean in, kissing him softly until I hear the sound of the doorbell ringing.

“I think that’ll be chipotle. Can you get it?” I quickly rise from his lap, brushing my hands on my leggings as he gives me a confused expression. “It’s not my house, get your own door Dobrik.” I tell him and watch as he slumps toward the front door. 

Remaining back, I watch as Natalie keeps a hold of his camera filming the entire thing without him being aware. She quickly turns the camera to me and I wave to the lens, struggling to hear David’s shock over the sound of my own heartbeat.

“You must be David?” Chris asks as he stands in the doorway, holding his phone up recording David’s stunned reaction. “Nice to meet you, I’m Chris Evans.” He holds his hand out and David stares at it.

“Babe, shake the guy's hand.” I call out, hearing Chris chuckle as David eagerly shakes his hand.

“Holy shit it’s really you.” David mutters and Chris walks in, smiling to Natalie before walking toward me, giving me a big hug.

“Y/n, it’s been too long!” Chris sighs as he releases me from a tight hug and places his hands on my shoulders. “Seriously, how’d you go and look younger whilst I’m getting older. 

“Beats me,” I joke in response whilst David stands by Natalie, his jaw hanging open as he stares, mouthing to me in shock. “so you met my boyfriend, David I take it?” 

Chris turns around, laughing lightly as David closes his jaw, muttering nothing. “I, it’s an honour, sir.” He stutters and I walk over, taking David’s hand. 

“He’s just a person, Dave.” I tell him reassuringly, but David gives me a simple look of amazement. 

“He’s Chris Evans, Y/n. He’s not just a person.” David states dramatically and Chris whistles to himself.

“Man, I wish everyone talked about me like that.” He jokes as we all sit down on the sofa, David now having taken hold of his vlog camera and recapping what the hell just happened. 

“Okay, so I asked Chris if he could come over as I knew he was in LA for a few days and I wanted him to decide whether you’re more Captain America or Iron Man.” I state and David rolls his eyes. “I’ve not told Chris anything, or let him see any videos. He’s deciding based on you, okay?” 

David sighs before wrapping his arm around me, nodding along. “Yeah, okay.” He goes along with it half-heartedly.

“Oh, but I thought it isn’t fair for just Captain America to decide,” I shuffle away, forcing my smile back as Chris takes his phone out to film. “so I asked Iron Man too.” 

I watch as David’s face drops upon hearing the front door open and close. “No fucking way.” He mutters as Robert walks through and takes his sunglasses off, holding his arms open.

“In the flesh.” Robert states with a smile on his face and David grips onto my hand so tightly it feels like it might break. “Might wanna ease your grip there.” Motioning down to my hand turning pale in his grasp, David lets go. “That’s precious cargo right there.” 

“Hey, Rob.” I walk over, giving him a hug as he sighs. “How’s the family doing?” 

“Brilliant as always. Missing their favourite babysitter.” He nudges me lightly and I sigh lightly. “You’ll visit soon right? Susan would love to see you.” 

Natalie shakes her head in disbelief as she stands to the sidelines in the kitchen, watching me interact like it’s no big deal. “Of course, now, let me introduce you to my boyfriend,”

“Junior Iron Man in training?” Robert asks and I watch as David’s eyes light up. “Nice to meet you boyfriend.” 

“Mr Downey Junior it’s a pleasure to meet you.” David says quickly and Robert glances back to me. 

“He’s normally good with celebrities, but you’re one of his favourites,” I tell him and Chris rolls his eyes. “you’re up there too Evans.” 

After a while, David finally calms down enough to have an actual conversation with them both whilst I sit beside him. Throughout the time I can tell they’re both analysing him, making up their minds about who David is more like. 

“Okay, it’s killing me.” I state as Chris places his mug down, focusing on me. “Hold on, I need to facetime Erin and Carly,” 

Dialling for Erin she answers, “What’s up bitch?” She asks and I turn the camera around to face Robert and Chris. “What the fuck, Y/n?” She yells and they both wave. 

Turning the camera back on me I laugh lightly. “I invited them both to decide if David’s Iron Man or Captain America. Is Carly with you?” I ask and Carly appears, waving shyly. 

“Oh my god, she’s hanging out with one of Bruce’s dream guys.” Carly mutters in the background. “Okay, so who’d they pick?” She asks and I lift my head up as they both share a look.

“Sorry kid, you’re definitely more Captain America.” Chris states and I clap whilst David buries his head in his hands. “That really such a bad thing?” Chris questions as Robert pats his back lightly whilst Carly and Erin cheer down the line.

“How you coping Dave?” I ask him as I place my phone on the sofa. 

Slowly, David lifts his head back up, shrugging it off. “I guess I’m a good man.” He states and Robert scoffs.

“Could’ve been a billionaire but sure.” 

“Who says I’m not?” David retorts and Robert raises an eyebrow. “Wanna see my cars?” He asks like an excited child, and Robert nods in response as they both walk out toward the garage, David almost skipping with joy. 

“I cannot believe you got Chris Evans and Robert Downey Junior to David’s house.” Carly tells me as I see their vlog camera in the frame and I lift my phone up, shuffling next to Chris as he smiles to them both. 

“Well, we go way back.” Chris states and I smile to him. “I’m the one who set her up with her ex.” He reminds me and I mentally groan as they both pull dumbfounded expressions.

“I’m sorry, who is your ex?” Erin asks as she awaits an answer whilst I exhale loudly. 

“It was back when we filmed Winter Soldier, way before I knew David okay?” I remind them both as they nod and I close my eyes. “I used to date Seb.” 

“What the fuck, Y/n?” Erin screams and Carly laughs down the line. “How did you not ever mention such a fact I told you about my shitty ex who threw a milkshake at me and you never said your ex was Sebastian Stan?!” 

Chris laughs to himself as I shrug my shoulders. “Didn’t seem like a big deal really.” 

“Okay, I’m officially jealous.” Carly speaks up and I hear the sound of keys dropping. 

Turning my head, David stands with his keys on the floor, his grip still open as Robert stands beside him. “You know, I forgot you guys dated.” He says before placing his arm around David’s shoulders. “But you got yourself a real keeper here,” Motioning to David I can feel my heart melting. “even if he is a Captain America.” 

[mininky]

Love is for the birds baby!

Summary: You refuse to believe in love. It’s a concept created by big corporations like hallmark to get sad saps like you to buy their shit. But it’s all fake. You’re convinced of that at least until a series of events with a certain tattoo artist who you loved to hate makes you question everything you’ve ever known.

Pairing: Tattoo artist!Yoongi x (fem) reader

Genre/Warnings: Romance, slow burn, fluff, comedy, smut warnings include: unsafe sex (always wear a condom), oral sex (male & fem receiving), multiple orgasms, spanking, light breath play, mentions of squirting. Non smut warnings for lots of cussing. Lots.

Word Count: 13.3K

A/N: A special shout out to @mzpandylu for inspiring me with such odd dialogue. Also challenge accepted, a quivering starfish is mentioned.

   Love is a completely abstract and intangible concept to you, at least romantic love is. There are many forms of love. Familial love is a concept you sort of understand, let's just say that your home life wasn't the greatest but you do at least understand the concept. Platonic love you completely understand. But romantic love? You very secretly yearn to understand it, desperately trying to figure out how the fuck some people get so lucky that the spark happens. You've dated, sure. But try as you might none of them have ever made your head spin or your heart sing. Lust you get. You've had plenty of flings and even some longer relationships, but love? Love is for the birds baby.

   You refuse, absolutely refuse, to admit that you have in any way shape or form an interest in this bizarre concept that is the investment and endeavor of romantic love. You've carefully hidden away all of your fanfics and all of your shojo mangas and all of the things that others would say is honestly completely normal to keep questions at bay. You know that your friends are interested in love, and unlike you they have no shame in admitting it. They talk about it all the time. They fall in 'love' with each man they date. But you're convinced that's not love. It's something more than like, sure you'll give them that but you're sure that it'll all end eventually. Love isn't sustainable because it's all a lie. Maybe you're too romantic at being romantic, perhaps you've just been suckered into all these stories into believing that a whirlwind romance is possible until one day the crushing realization that it wasn't possible occurred. That the sparks of electricity and burning hot embers of passion aren't sustainable and aren't indicative of love.

   You were twenty, he was twenty-one. The two of you had been dating mutually for three years at that point, a lifetime in college years. Billy Johnson. Fucking Billy. He was smart and funny and he actually knew what a clit was, and he kissed you under the night stars and made you feel like you were in love. Maybe you were, but you like to think that the feelings you felt weren't actually that strong. It made the fallout easier. Which brings you to the fallout, that realization that romantic love is all a big corporate lie to sell shitty grocery store roses and cute snuggly teddy bears and dime back novels to sad sops like you. A marketing ploy. Not a reality. Fuck Plato for being the first to sell the idea of soulmates, and fuck Billy too. Billy Johnson was a cruel heartless asshole who fucked your best friend. And in one day you lost two loves, one romantic and one platonic. In turn, you gained a distinct hatred for romantic concepts and a world-weary view on relationships, waiting for the other shoe to drop every time you encountered someone new.

   You dated again after that, but now at the young age of twenty-six, you've decided that it's time to give up. Or maybe you gave up after Billy. You can't say you've ever actually given it a real try after that if you're being honest. You know when to call it quits. You refuse, absolutely refuse, to be a corporate sellout. And your feelings are in no way shape or form reflective of the animosity at being broken up with by Johny last week because you were too 'sarcastic' in the middle of your vacation to Busan. Too sarcastic your ass. You'll show that motherfucker sarcastic. God, sorry, you're getting off track here. Where were you again?

   Ah yes, love is for apparently everyone that isn't you. So you'll just be a cat lady. An affection earned entirely by ear scritches and feeding them. A reward system that makes sense. You take care of them and they tolerate you. Now that you understand. That makes sense. Why in the ever loving fuck would you try romance again when instead you can have a mutually beneficial understanding with something as cute as a cat that can't tell you 'I think you're a bitch' in a language you understand? Fuck Johnny, and Billy. And every other man for that matter.

   You're ruminating in anger as you order your coffee, eyes staring straight into the young and timid barista as you slap down the change. Poor kid, it's not his fault but today you just hate the world. You try to smile but you're pretty sure that just scares him more if the way his eyes go large and round in fear is anything to go by. Christ, you need to work on your people skills. And you're totally not thinking that because of that dick weasel who you've decided will no longer be named.

   Normally once you get your caffeine fix you're in a much better mood, but today the only thing you want to do is karate chop your own throat. Or maybe just play Red Dead Redemption 2 and kill a bunch of people in a completely legal way. Not online though, you really don't need another 13-year-old boy slurring about how much girls suck unless you want to unleash the crazy bitch inside of you to the point of no return. But unfortunately, you have bills to pay. Caffeine fixes to afford. Student loans to pretend you'll someday actually pay off except interest is a bitch. Which means going to work. Normally something you love, but today you're really not in the mood to edit another shitty sci-fi story where the physics of breasts go beyond the dudebro fedora lover that wrote the shitty thing.

   Be an editor they said. You love books they said. You'll be great they said. They hadn't warned you that being an editor at a major publishing house still meant reading through a painful amount of crap writing that you would, in turn, make all pretty and nice and somewhat more presentable garbage for public consumption with no acknowledgment or credit for all the hours you spent trying not to bash your screen in with your face. At least you were close enough to walk to work.

   You grab your piping hot venti quad shot vanilla latte (with soy) as you go back out into the frigid air. Your eyes are cast down on the pavement, trying not to bump into too many of the zombie state morning foot traffic as you make your way into the office. At least you have an office of your own, a salvation of peace and quiet away from prying eyes that allows you to wallow in self-pity safely. The rest of the day goes by in a blur, your normally somewhat antisocial personality becomes far more present as you hide away from even your beloved breakroom coffee pot to avoid too many interactions. You just knew that you would end up running into Susan. Nice gal, but she talks way too much and she set you up with Johnny no wait, the douche canoe. You forgot he must never be named again. The last thing you need is her bringing up how he dumped in you in the middle of your vacation.

   You're also the last one to leave tonight. For someone who didn't really want to step foot into the building, you sure do seem to be having a hard time getting out of here. But there are deadlines to meet and your vacation meant that there's a pileup of work that needs to be done. That and you really don't feel like going into your empty apartment to binge watch on Netflix while you host another internal pity party.

   By the time you're finally out the door and into the freezing winter night, you can feel exhaustion seeping deep into your bones. Or that might just be the joint pain that this super shitty winter is causing. That's another thing the world lied about, joint pain isn't just for old people. It's apparently also for future cat spinsters who hate everything no matter their current age. Your head is stuck on the last chapter you were editing, trying to make sense of how exactly you might be able to convince the author to scrap the whole damn thing politely as your nose picks up on the smell of a cigarette wafting over. Your stomach rumbles, brain shutting off as fingers twitch. God, it's been two years since you stopped smoking but it smells so painfully fucking good right now.

   Your face whips up as you see the small trail of smoke wafting over to you. It's the guy from the tattoo shop, Min fucking Yoongi. You should've known. The guy is hot you'll give him that. Eyes just sharp enough to give him that bad boy image when paired with his full sleeve tattoos and the crawling cherry blossoms on his neck. The chronic scowl that says 'try me' in a way that oddly makes him hotter. Hair that looks like he spends way too much time on usually. Today however he's decked out in a beanie and black leather jacket with pants just tight enough to make you wish he would turn around and walk away. But in the last year since you've unfortunately gotten to know him you know that he's every bit as snarky, bitchy, and firey as you. He's also as much bite as he is bark, although so far you've never been the one he's pointed his bite at.

   "(Y/N), I see you were working late again." He takes a lazy drag on his cigarette, eyes staring straight through you as his lips quirk up into a smirk.

   "Yoongi." Your eyes narrow in on his, fingers twitching at your side as you bite down the incessant desire to beg for a cigarette. You won’t break, especially not in front of him. Just because you’ve had a series of bad days doesn’t mean you actually need that cigarette.

   "Jesus, what's wrong with you? You seem even bitchier than normal. I guess this cold snap we're having is because the ice queen decided to control your body."

   "Har-har-har little man." He bristles at the jab and you can't help but cackle internally at your small victory (pun completely intended.) "No for your information the world is a cruel, evil bitch and yet again I fell for its corporate seductions and evil capitalist ploys."

   "Right, I'm going to nod my head and pretend I understood what that meant just so you don't kill me. Hey, so are you ever going to get that tattoo or not?"

   You reach into the trenches of your memory, recalling months ago on a particularly good day when you told this same tiny Satan that you wanted to get a tattoo. He had seemed oddly impressed that you wanted a snake on your upper thigh and all was well until he told you that he pictured you wanting some shitty positive statement, most likely placed on your collarbone or ribcage and adorned with little doves or a dreamcatcher or some other shit. Bleh. That's when he first learned that you are possibly insane and most certainly a bit of a bitch. It's all been downhill with him since, each run in turning into a battle of insults.

   He stubs out the little remaining part of his Marlboro before gesturing to the warm shop. "I've got an opening to do a consult if you wanna talk about it more."

   Perhaps this is it, maybe this is what you need to do. Something different. Something that doesn't include your usual routine of wake up, caffeinate, work, work, work, and Netflix binge all in between minor anxiety driven breakdowns. Besides, it's just a consult, not the actual tattoo. "How do I know this isn't an elaborate plan to eventually see me half naked?"

   Yoongi rolls his eyes as he opens the door to the shop, glaring at you as he speaks slowly. "You might be hot, but I have a feeling you'd be the type of girl to try to peg me with no lube. I prefer cuddling. Trust me, I'm not interested in getting you naked and seeing where it goes." You're thrown for a loop at that one, shuffling slowly behind him as your brain tries to make sense of it. You know you should be offended that he seriously thinks you wouldn't use lube, but Yoongi likes cuddling? The guy who scowls at life itself? The guy who you've watched physically throw out a neo-nazi who wanted a tattoo? The same guy who rides a motorcycle and refuses sugar in his coffee because he likes it as bitter as his very soul? Man, life is really fucking weird.

   You follow behind him tentatively, shocked to hear rather calm hip hop station on. Maybe you stereotype too much but you pegged him (pun not intended this time) as a Lamb of God kind of guy, definitely not a Dean and PH-1 fan. He takes you over to his office, gesturing at a free seat before he sits down at his desk. Every surface is covered with intricate artwork. From Japanese style tattoos to Sailor Jerry flash pieces to pops of dystopian Disney paintings. "So, you still thinking about doing the same thing?"

   "Yeah. Red Belly black snake. I'm thinking upper thigh/hip area." You stand up and move your coat to the side to point to the area.

   "That's a good sized piece. Have you thought about adding anything more to it? Maybe some hyacinths on the left and right of the snake, I'm thinking in maybe a pale pink so it doesn't offset the red in the snake too much."

   "You know what a hyacinth is?" You snort slightly, glaring back at him when he leans onto his elbows to shoot a look that he's probably hoping will kill you.

   "I'm a tattoo artist. Do you know how many fucking flowers I have to draw every day? Swear to god I should open up a flower shop next door and make a killing with my amazing arrangements." This time you give a full-blown laugh, shocked to hear him mirroring quietly. In all the time you've kinda sorta known him you've never heard him laugh. It's nice, deep, and the gummy smile he gives has your heart doing little flip flops that you absolutely refuse to analyze.

   You take just a beat too long to look at him, your head tilted slightly as you mentally murder the lone butterfly that has survived all of the anger you've culminated in the last few years. "How about a peony instead? I think it would look better."

   "We can do that. With the size you're looking for and all the color work I'd guess that we're looking at at least 6 hours if we want to make sure it's done right. We can split it into two three hours sessions. I charge $200 an hour so you're looking at at least $1200, but you might want to be thinking to around the $1600 range just to be safe. I also require a $300 deposit usually just for a consult and another $300 later but I figure I can always hound you if you don't come in." He opens up his computer, clicking away for a moment before adding, "I have enough time to get started this Friday night if you want? At 8:00."

   "Gee thanks for the trust. Yeah that all sounds good, I'm down."

   He nods quickly, hands grabbing at some paper as he starts making drafting up some rough sketches. You try not to invade his space as you look over the paper, brain desperately searching for a small talk topic. God, you've always been bad at this. "So...how long have you been a tattoo artist?"

   "Well I started my apprenticeship right out of high school at 18 so 10 years total, but as an actual artist only about 8 years." Interesting, so that would make him two years older than you. For some reason, you feel a need to put that in one of your mental files. "What exactly do you do at that giant office building down the street?"

   "I work for a publishing house in there as one of their many editors."

   Yoongi snorts, nodding his head as he keeps sketching away. "Yeah, I can see you working with books. Your creative insults suddenly make so much more sense."

   "I'll take that as a compliment." You lean back into your chair, taking in your surroundings a little more closely before focusing unabashedly at the man before you. His tattoos are on full display now that he's taken off his jacket. Almost all are black and white with small splashes of reds and pinks laced mostly on his neck where cherry blossoms fall delicately off a branch. His eyes are cast in complete concentration, lower lip bitten as he works. There's something painfully sexy about the image. You almost want to burn it into your brain to use for late night consumption.

   You aren't sure how long the two of you sit there in silence, but it's comfortable. There's something soothing about listening to the way his markers glide over the paper as soft music, buzzing tattoo guns, and chatter filters in fuzzily through the closed door. You can feel yourself finally start to relax, all of the earlier rage and grudges held at the world slipping away momentarily as you enter a near-meditative state just watching him work.

   Finally, he glances up, a smile on his face as he pushes the paper over the desk to you. It's beautiful, a little rough around the edges without the finishing touches but it's better than anything you thought of. "Wow, Yoongi this looks great."

   "It's just a rough drawing. I still need to work on some of the other touches but if you're good with that I'll get started on making the transfer later this week."

   "Yeah..." You words are quiet as you look at the picture, elation growing in your heart. You might turn into a cat lady, but at least you'll be a badass one. "Okay, so seriously though do you want me to put down the deposit now? I have no problem with that."

   "Nah, don't sweat it. Oh, but I do need your full name and number to actually book it. And don't give me some shit about this being a ploy for your number." You roll your eyes before giving him the information. Standing up slowly when he opens up the office door and leads you back out to light snowfall. "Alright, see you this Friday (y/n)."

   "See you Yoongi. Thanks again." As you turn back to send a smile something painfully familiar stirs in your brain when he flashes that gummy smile and sends you on your way.

---------------Friday----------------

   By the time Friday rolls around you've been through a whole litany of emotions. You're of course excited about the tattoo, that's not the problem. No the source of all evils is Min Yoongi. Sexy. Witty. Can handle your sarcasm. Enjoys cuddling. He's plagued your thoughts, gummy smiles invading your daydreams and inky tattoos hovering over you at night. It's been a long time since you've actually crushed on anyone. Dating as an adult is an entirely different experience. Usually, you know someone who knows them or met them on tinder and you're just praying that they aren't a secret serial killer and that you share enough interests to talk in between getting railed while praying for an orgasm. At least, that's been your shitty experiences anyway. You know that it isn't always the case considering that just about all of your friends have gotten magically engaged or married recently. But Yoongi? There's something about him that stirs up all of your previously assumed dead thoughts on love. All of the secret romantic pinings combines with lust in a painful swirl but luckily the thoughts you have of him are usually fleeting.

   You step forward into the tattoo shop after grabbing a bite to eat, two warm cocoas in your hand as you try not to freak out that the big event is finally here and you'll be face to face with tiny, sexy, tattooed satan yet again. The man behind the counter looks over at you, and you can't help but wonder for a moment if being really good looking is a requirement to work here. Deep dimples, sunkissed skin, glasses perched on his nose.

   "Hi, do you have an appointment?" You shake your head yes, staring at the floor for a moment before finally squeaking out that you're there to see Yoongi.

   "Ay, (Y/N)'s here!" He shouts out towards Yoongi's office and you see him strolling out just a moment later.

   "Jesus Joon, you've been spending too much time around Hobi. I think the whole shop could hear you." Yoongi steps around the desk eyeing the other cup before you hand it out to him.

   "It's just cocoa, I didn't lace it. This time. Also, it's made with soy milk." You can hear the man called Joon laughing in the background as Yoongi slowly grabs the cup and squints at it before taking a tentative sip.

   He gives a small nod that you assume is to signify satisfaction before he starts walking over to a curtained-off section in the back. "You ready to get started?"

   "Yep, all ready!" You take a sip of the cocoa and sit down on the tattoo chair slowly.

   "Alright, just check over this transfer and let me know what you think before you undress so I can put it on." You look over the image, heart warming up slightly at the brush of his fingers before you finally nod a silent affirmation. "I need words babe, is it good or not?"

   You can feel yourself bristle at the tone, sighing wearily before you finally bite out, "Yes, babe, it's perfect."

   "Cool. I'll leave you to get undressed, I'll be back in just a moment." The one shitty thing about the placement of your tattoo is that it will require not only pants to come off but underwear too. Before nerves can take over you strip quickly, laying back down on your side before you can think about it too much. Getting undressed faster than you can sneeze was probably a bad idea though because now you're forced to just sit there with your ass cheeks freezing and mind shutting down while you wait for him to come back. After a minute you hear him announcing that he's coming in before opening up the curtain.

   Your eyes are trained on the floors. Jesus, you wish you could get your tiles to glisten the way their's does. They must mop a thousand times a day, you can't even see a speck of dirt in the grout. The sound of him clearing his throat has you jolting a bit before turning around to glare at the sound of his laughter. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I'm just going to disinfect the area and put the transfer on then I'll have you take a look and let me know what you think of the placement." You decide to go mute apparently as your only response is a feeble thumbs up before quickly turning to resume your ever so interesting study on what floor cleaner they use. Probably Fabuloso.

   You force yourself to stay stock still when you feel his warm hands on your hip as he cleans the area and peels the transfer on before he gives a light tap to your thigh. "Alright, take a look." With all the grace of a hospice patient you slowly swing your legs off and walk over to the mirror, trying to not pay attention to the fact that you're awkwardly half naked in front of arguably the hottest man who's admitted he enjoys cuddling before you finally relax at the sight of the transfer. "Man, this is going to look rad. Alright little satan, do your thing!"

   "Little Satan? Really? What happened to all your usual creative bitchiness? What was it you called me that one time?"

   "Oh! Degenerate Malfoy with a nicotine problem? Or was it wannabe colon inspector?"

   "Neither actually, it wasn't even something you called me now that I remember it. You once told me 'Ah I see the fuck up fairy decided to mess with my life and force me to see you yet again.' That's a good one by the way, I've used it a few times."

   "Glad I could help, but I wish I could copyright it so you could pay me the rights to use it." You try not to get too nervous as you hear him slip on his gloves and the needle buzzing ominously behind you. The pain won't be that bad right? "Relax, you'll be fine." His voice for once isn't laced with sarcasm. It seems that even the formidable Yoongi has a professional voice that he employs occasionally.

   After what feels like ages filled with anxiety-ridden thoughts you feel the needle prodding away, moving quickly while leaving tingling and ever slight burning sensations in its wake. It does hurt, but not to the point of being unbearable. "See it's not so bad, scaredy cat." You resist the urge to turn around and pummel him in his annoyingly handsome face.

   "If you weren't tattooing me right now I'd choke you out."

   "Kinky, but I prefer a chick to at least buy me a drink first."

   "Already did jackass, the cocoa remember."

   "Huh, you did didn't you. Okay, well it's still off the table for you. You'd probably keep going until I actually died."

   "Hell misses it's little satan though, I'd just be helping you reunite with all your friends."

   "Do you have a snarky remark for everything princess?"

   "Nah, depends on the day and the person. You're a special one Min Yoongi, something about you makes me want to bludgeon things."

   "Oh, what a sweet compliment. Isn't that how people feel when things are too cute too?" You don't even need to look over to know that he's smirking as you flip him off.

   "Or annoying." The rest of the three hours the two of you spend going back and forth with each other to the point that some of the other artists passing by started to call out their two cents in. By the time you're done, you have the outline complete and some of the black shaded in. The rest will be done in just two weeks time at his next opening.

-------------2 weeks later-----------

   Oddly enough for once, you haven't seen Yoongi outside during his normal smoke break time when you leave work for the last couple of weeks. You also haven't seen him getting his normal disgusting black coffee either. Not that you've been looking for him. Okay...so maybe you have. There's just something about him other than the really good looks you like. In one sense it's almost like walking on a blade the entire time you're with him, never sure when he's going to make a jab. On the other hand, he's also easy to talk to. In a way where everything is oddly comfortable even with this underlying lurking sexual tension. Or maybe that's just in your head. Maybe there's no sexual tension and it's just been so long since you last had a good lay (the dingleberry boy who shall not be named was terrible) that you're starting to hallucinate. Which is a rather real possibility.

   This time when you walk in with another cocoa it's with far fewer nerves. No, you're ready for the battlefield and only tremble ever so slightly when you have to face him with a bare ass in his face.

   "Alright sunshine, let's finish this bad boy up." Is all he states before he gets right into it, ever the professional. By the time he's finished, you're 110% positive that you were just imagining the sexual tension because his eyes don't even wander as you check the tattoo in the mirror. Which is a good thing right? Because you're supposed to be on your fast track to nundom not trying to bag the super hot tattoo artist who works near you.

   There's a bizarre sinking feeling in your heart though when you realize the tattoo is done and you won't be able to see him for extended periods of time on such a good excuse. An expensive excuse, but an excuse nonetheless. Now, however, with your beautiful, intricate, and very sore skin you'll have to go back to happenstance run-ins. You think that maybe, just maybe, if the somewhat hollow looking smile he gives you when you leave is anything to go by that he doesn't really want it to end either. But that's probably just the few embers of hope remaining in you that needs to be crushed out.

--------1 month later---------

   You've spent another night overworking yourself. This time there wasn't really a good reason to either. You're not only on schedule but way ahead and yet you've decided to just keep busting through work until dusk begins to fall and the shitty flickering streetlights by you turn on. Almost every night for the past few weeks you've been working longer days and as much as you hate to admit it it's to try to keep yourself from wallowing too much at night about your impending lonely doom. Tonight will be different though. Tonight you'll ruminate and bask in the fucked up world with your dear old friend Irene as she's finally decided to have a night away from her obnoxiously good looking fiance Taehyung. She might not be able to relate to your doom and gloom sentiments on life but she's always a good friend for a pick me up.

   You set off in the opposite direction of your usual route, winding through the chilly streets until you get to your favorite bar that serves oddly impressively delicious fried chicken. The moment you step in you notice Irene sitting at one of the few tables at the place, glaring at a man who clearly can't take a hint. Marching over you grab the seat across from her before biting off a 'Jesus how much aftershave do you use? Did you put in on your asshole too or something?' Knowing he's now outnumbered, and out bitched, the two of you watch the man leave without protest.

   "You know you really should be careful. People are crazy, aren't you ever afraid that you might get hurt or something?"

   You shrug nonchalantly before sighing at the doe eyes she gives you. "Irene, I love you but I'm not curtailing my inner bitch just because some douche might murder me. There are countless absurd ways I could die, if I have to check myself in fear of that then I just let all those asshats continue being menaces to society without being put in their shitty sad places."

   "So what you're like a superwoman with a bad attitude only you save the world one dick at a time with well-timed insults?" You know that voice, you know that voice all too well. Your ears perk up and your jaw drops open as you whip around to come eye to eye with Yoongi. For one whole month, you haven't seen him even with perfectly timed coffee runs around his smoke breaks. Not that you learned his habitual schedule or anything. Nope. Nothing like that at all. Just coincidence is all. And you just happened to notice he wasn't there. That's all.

   "Yoongi!" You hate the way your voice goes up an octave, excitement making your voice quiver like a little puppy reuniting with their owner after a short separation. You can already feel the heat bursting on your cheeks as his head tilts, eyes watching you carefully before he cracks a lazy smile.

   "Um, (y/n), who is this guy? Do I need to mace him or something?" Irene whispers to you, but just loud enough that as Yoongi steps closer he can hear her.

   "Please don't mace me. I promise, I only bite if you're into that."

   "Hey, watch it, mister. She's a taken woman." Reluctantly you wave your hand over the free seat to invite him over before looking back at Irene. "Irene this is Yoongi, Yoongi this is Irene. Yoongi did my tattoo for me."

   "Oh, you got a tattoo? Can I see it?"

   "We'll definitely get a free round of drinks if you show it off, that's for sure." You can't help but smack Yoongi's shoulder, shocked at the sturdiness of it. Considering how slight he looks you really didn't think that he worked out but now your mind is starting to wander.

   "Yeah well, kind of can't show you in public considering I have to take my pants off. Oh! But I do have some pictures!" You pull out your phone, swiping through until you find one and turning it to show her.

   "Wow, that looks like it hurt. It looks great though you did a good job..." Irene pauses, eyes going wide with panic before she finally adds, "Yoongi."

   "Thanks." He almost looks shy and you can feel your heart breaking. Yeah, typical to have the hot dude fall for your friend and not you.

   "Did you order drinks yet?" At the shake of Irene's head, you're grateful to have an excuse to flee to the bar not rushing to grab the bartenders attention and face falling slightly when he sidles up next to you immediately. The world is a cruel place. You want them to take their time and they're there immediately. You want them there right away and suddenly so do seventy other people. Luck. Or murphy's law maybe. Whatever.

   You huff out a sigh before plastering a smile on your face, "Two cranberry vodkas, please. Tall and stiff." The bartender nods as you slap down a twenty, praying that perhaps he'll at least make the drinks slowly but oh no this man must be one of those bartenders that enters fucking speed competitions because he's sliding both drinks over before you can fucking blink. Unbelievable. The service at this place is just too good and it's making you twitch slightly in irritation.

   Trying not to huff, you grab the two drinks and make your way back to your table. Heart sinking even more at the sound of Yoongi being strangely amicable to Irene. This was not the night you wanted at all. You wanted to get drunk and hang out with Irene and forget about how shitty boys are, not have glaring reminders everywhere about how the capitalist ploy that is romance will suffocate you to death. Okay so maybe you're being a little melodramatic. A lot. Whatever. It's your pity party, you can cry if you want to.

   When you finally sit back down and hand Irene her drink you can't help but guzzle yours back right away, ignoring the acidic burn in your throat and the quirked eyebrow from Yoongi.

   "So...(y/n)...any new boys after Johnny?" Irene refuses to look you in the eyes as she asks, smart enough to sit just out of reach from your possible rage.

   "I refuse to fall victim to the bullshit masquerade we call love yet again. I've called it quits. I'm just going to be a spinster with a million cats who will inevitably be forgotten until my landlord finds that mittens, my favorite cat, has eaten my left asscheek for sustenance after my untimely death."

   Irene bawks, trying immediately to rush into lengthy reasoning as to why you shouldn't stop searching for love as Yoongi nearly falls off his chair laughing so hard. At the end of Irene's dialogue, Yoongi wipes away a stray tear before shooting you a gummy smile. The kind that makes you want to hate him less, but you refuse to. Because that's dangerous territory. Territory you've sworn to never cross again. "You don't actually mean all that bullshit right? Love is natural, it's needed. It's biologically ingrained in us to be social creatures and affectionate."

   "Don't you judge me and mitten's life path!"

   "You don't even have a cat!" Irene looks exasperated as she takes a sip of her drink, silently judging you. "Listen, I get it. You've been fucked over a million times by terrible guys. But that doesn't mean that the whole world is that way." At the withering look you send her Irene sighs, shaking her head but falling mute. You feel a little bad that yet again you've ruined the mood so you try to lighten it up a bit, reaching over to pinch her cheek lightly.

   "Thanks, Irene. I'm sorry. I'm just...I don't know. I've been in a bit of a mood." You bit your tongue from further sarcasm at the pointed look she gives you. "Things haven't been so hot lately. I'll get over it. In like a decade. But you know that's better than never." You can feel Yoongi peering at you, analyzing you from the corner of your eye.

   "Why though? Why are you so convinced that love is such a sham?" Yoongi's words don't seem to hold any judgment or his usual quiet hostility, instead just honest curiosity.

   "Well if they don't cheat on me they always grow tired of me. I'm a bit too much of a bitch for my own good. I should really work on that." You shrug, staring at your almost empty glass as you try to shush the self-loathing thoughts that want to invade.

   "I like that part about you though. You've got spunk doll, it ain't a bad thing. You just need to find a guy who can match it." He smirks at the way you go quiet before leaning slightly into you at the table. "I don't know, I think I'm up for the challenge if you are." He grabs a card from his pocket, placing it next to your cup as he stands up. "That's my cell on there. Text me sometime babe." You hate the way your brain shuts down, playing back the way he calls you babe until all senses fail.

   "You should do it. You know he was asking about you the entire time you were getting drinks?" You feel your heart sink even further at the realization that you judged the situation too quickly before suddenly soaring at the idea that Min Yoongi asked you out on a date. You. Snarky, bitchy you found a match in hell. Capitalist ploys be damned! You'll at least find out if he's cocky for a reason. If you don't chicken out that is.

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

   Later that night after all the alcohol has left your system and you're snuggled up under enough blankets to possibly suffocate you, you find yourself staring at your phone. You entered in his contact almost immediately after he left at the urging of Irene. Apprehension has held you back from actually sending anything though. Your fingers hover over the screen, bottom lip stuck between your teeth as you suck in a breath. What have you got to lose?

[You]: Hey...

[Yoongi]: (Y/N)?

[You]: Yeah

[Yoongi]: This is unusual. I'm used to quippy remarks. Don't tell me you've grown soft?

[You]: Fuck off. I'm just confused that's all.

[Yoongi]: What's there to be confused about? You're funny, you have no problem with giving it right back to me, and you have a fantastic ass

[You]: Well that was blunt

[Yoongi]: I'm an honest man [Yoongi]: So listen, about that date, I wanna take you out Sunday

[You]: That's in like a day from now

[Yoongi]: Yeah well I've wanted to take you out from the first time you told me off for smoking on the street. And that time you told me you were going to shove my tattoo needle up my ass solidified it.

[You]: You have some odd kinks sir

[Yoongi]: Is that a yes babe?

[You]: Hmmm....yeah I'll go

[Yoongi]: Great send me your address I'll pick you up at noon

[You]: You aren't going to chop me up in a million pieces and feed me to the fishes right?

[Yoongi]: No I prefer my women in one piece

   You send over your address, butterflies swarming around as you squeal into a pillow before sending him a quick good night. You don't need to embarrass yourself by saying something off the wall as exhaustion starts to set in. Like "I want to kiss your face" or "Fuck me in your office." Yeah, that's not good pre-date material. You need to keep it kosher for now.

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

   You had spent all day Saturday cleaning to keep your nerves at bay. Not that you can really tell much in your closet after you ransacked it. And not that you can tell you went through all of that energy just to pick a simple oversized black hoodie and jeans. It's too cold to go all out anyway. You've been staring in the mirror, double checking your hair and makeup a thousand times as you hear the doorbell chime through the apartment. It's a good thing no one else is around to see you nearly trip over yourself as you slip on your shoes and answer the door. "Hi!"

   Yoongi is wearing his usual black leather jackets, skin-tight black jeans, and cat-like smirk. "Hey. You ready?"

   "Yeah, oh just let me grab a jacket." Pulling one off the rack you shut the door behind you, locking the door before shuffling behind Yoongi. Much to your surprise, he slows down until your right next to him, clasping his hand around yours and smiling as he silently leads you to his car.

   "What, no motorcycle today?"

   "Nah, I figured you'd strangle me and we'd crash. Dieing on the first date just seems tragic. We need to get on date number five at least." He shoots you a wink as he opens your door, shutting it lightly behind him as he jogs around to the other side.

   "So...where exactly are you taking me?"

   "You're a curious little thing today, aren't you? Well at first I was thinking something simple like coffee, but let's be honest that's overplayed and boring. So then I thought about going to an aquarium just so I could make a joke about feeding you to the fishes but then I thought nah too easy. So I spent more time than I'll tell you plotting. And I realized exactly where we needed to go. We're going to the river for a picnic. Something that's oddly ordinary and you'll secretly love but no dude's ever actually done for you. Am I right?"

   You're at a loss. You certainly didn't expect him to think this through to this extent. Honestly, no guy has ever cared this much about a first date before. You figured that only existed in stories and movies at this point. "You're certainly right. Isn't it a little cold for a picnic though?"

   "I have brought plenty of cocoa and jjigae to keep us warm, don't you worry your pretty little head about it." You can't help but fidget slightly, nerves boiling over until his hand rests soothingly on your thigh and you feel yourself melt. Or maybe boil over until you malfunction. But that's something to dwell on at a later time.

   It doesn't take long after that until you pull up at the river. During springtime it's packed, everyone comes out to drink under the cherry blossoms, but right now it's serenely quiet. You're almost the only people in sight save the zealous runners and elderly couples strolling through on their daily walks. When you try to help set up the blanket and food Yoongi refuses, so instead you watch him meticulously lay everything out. Maybe this is a post-season Christmas movie because you swear you can feel your dead cold heart grow as you watch him. It's an oddly domestic feeling. Certainly romantic. Painfully sweet. And for once all of your usual bitter snarkiness has drowned it's self in the river to leave you a heart-eyed mess.

   "Come on, come sit. I told you before, I don't bite unless you're into that."

   "I'm into that, but right now I'd rather have cocoa and jjigae." You watch him pour out your drink as you sit down, carefully handing you the piping hot drink before pulling the still boiling soup out of the basket.

   "Alright, so I figured that being you'd probably refuse to tell me too much out of wariness. So I propose that we play 21 questions. What's your favorite food?"

   "Tofu, in all it's many forms. What's your favorite color?"

   "Black, just like my coffee."

   "And your soul." You duck as he tosses a napkin at your face, laughing at the gummy expression he sends your way.

   "Aish. Okay, next question, what are your hobbies?"

   "Reading and video games. Why'd you become a tattoo artist?"

   "I love drawing, but I especially love the idea of a living canvas. It's just so interesting. Although I hate that I don't usually get to control the outcome of it, some people have god awful tattoo ideas. Most people actually. I'm at least booked enough now that I can refuse those ones without worrying about my bank account too much. Why are you so afraid of love?"

   You weren't expecting that question. You figured he'd keep things easy but then again you should have known better. Of all the many ways you can describe the man before you easy isn't one of them. "Trust problems I guess. I didn't have the best home, parents kicked me out young and we haven't talked since so that's probably at the root of it all. I don't know though, never seen a shrink about it so that's just an educated guess. Add all the boys that I've dated either dumped me or cheated on me and it makes it tough to believe that love, especially romantic love is real. Why do you believe in it?"

   "Because love is the very essence of humanity. The best way to fight a shitty system that tries to keep us all down is through love. It's not power or money or any of that other bullshit they tell us we need. It's love. We all just need someone who understands us. It doesn't need to be a ton of people, just one who really gets us and bam! Everything's good. Sometimes those people come and go, but that doesn't make the love you held for that time discounted. It just means that now you need to find someone else who understands you." He chooses his words carefully at first, but when he sees that you're held in rapt attention he grows passionate. Eyes blazing as if to dare you to disagree. And suddenly you're seeing the world through a different lens. Here you had been chalking romance up to marketing, which isn't entirely untrue but that's just one part of it. But love the way he sees it? To him, love isn't about marketing or money it's just about human connection. And suddenly you're starting to understand that abstract intangible concept. You also realize that what you were looking for wasn't love, but perfection. You didn't want to do all the work, you just wanted all the pieces to magically fall into place for you and gave up when expectations weren't instantly met. "Next question, why'd you say yes to this date?"

   "Because you're hot." You roll his eyes at the exaggerated wink he sends you before eating a bit of the jjigae. "Okay so that was a part of it but mostly I was curious. You're this weird enigma Yoongi. At first, I thought I had you all figured out. Tough dude with tats and a motorcycle who probably has a slew of booty calls waiting for him. But then you said you liked to cuddle and I got curious. And then I realized that I didn't have the whole picture, just a glimpse. Why in the world did you ask me out? And for the love of god don't say 'dat ass.'"

   "Okay but dat ass though." The way he laughs full heartedly, slapping his knees at the sight of your glare almost makes you not elbow him. Almost. But you have a reputation to uphold. "You've just got this thing about you. You're like a fortress. A puzzle. I guess that same idea of wanting to figure a person out is the same reason why I'm so attracted to you. You see at first glance you seem to be just brutally honest, but then when you look closer it's easy to see that you're vulnerable. Fragile. Callous due to a previous naivety that landed you in shit places by the sounds of it. I like that you have spirit, you aren't afraid to tell people to fuck off. But what I like most of all is under that there's this heart of gold. At least if your interaction with your friends is anything to go by you do." Fuck, you think you have something in your eye. It's definitely not your long extinct tear ducts learning how to work again. Nope.

   You can feel his thumb brush a stray tear, hand cupping your face as you automatically nuzzle into the warmth before he clears his throat. "Next question-"

   Before he can finish the question your lips are on his. They're chapped but still soft, plush under yours. And suddenly that tailwind romance you thought was all fake feels so real as a spark of electricity zaps you. Or maybe that's more carnal, but whatever it is it feels so right. As if his lips were made to be against yours. And when you feel him kiss back roughly, hands weaving through your hair as he pulls you in closer you know that he must be feeling the same thing. You're floating. High in the clouds. Weightless. The sound of someone running past finally has the two of you breaking apart slowly. "Right next question, can we do that again?"

   This time there's a fire behind the kiss as your hands grab onto his jacket and his tongue slips into your mouth. This time you know it's more carnal. Burning bright. Passionate. Hungry. Needy. But before it can devolve into public debauchery you reluctantly pull back, blush creeping up your neck as you see his molten brown eyes focused on you in a way that clearly states that he is indeed as dangerous as he looks. At least if your definition of dangerous is sex right out in the open at a very public park anyway.

   "My turn. What's your favorite music?"

   The rest of the date goes by too quickly and you learn about everything Yoongi related and he learns everything about you. You're positive that you've never learned so much about a person on a first date, or hell even by the third. You've learned his birthday, his favorite music, all about his friends, how he actually co-owns the tattoo shop and how that all happened. You've learned about how he came from a poor family and how he makes sure to send a little bit each week to help out on top of the apartment he bought them. Suddenly the $200 an hour fee makes a whole lot more sense.

   By the time you're pulling back into your apartment, the two of you have already planned a date for next Sunday. And as he puts the car in park you can't hope but wish that somehow it was already magically next week. But when he pulls you in for a heated kiss and presses his forehead against yours before sending you off you're too much on cloud nine to pay any attention. You'll have to add that Yoongi is certainly the best kisser you've ever known to your mental file.

-------------1 week later---------------

   Well, it's official. You're nuts. You'd like to blame Yoongi but let's be honest, all you needed was a little help to push you over the ledge. Except the problem is that before you were very sure of life. Completely comfortable with anger, bitterness, and believing that everything inevitably fails. And in some sick twist of fate, his words have been playing back in your head over and over every single day for the last week. Before you thought it was all or nothing. Love was there or it wasn't. You get one shot at true love and if it fails then it never existed. Except now your world is flipped upside down.

   Perfection is a fruitless endeavor. An impossible task. One with zero rewards. And what you've been looking for all this time is perfection. A perfect love. A whirlwind romance. But if it's perfect it's fake. It's all a lie. An elaborate performance. Which is mostly all you've ever gotten, granted usually in short-lived moments but sometimes longer. And when the curtains closed each time you thought, "this show wasn't a real show. I'll go to a better play next door." Except the play was still very much real. A part of you. A part of them. Which means that love is indeed real it's just not always very grand. But when it was there it was beautiful, you were just blind and ignorant in even the good moments. Unaware of the magic in small acts. But with Yoongi suddenly you want to see all the small acts. You want to not just see the show but be a part of it. Go behind the scenes with him. See how this plays out.

   Which is completely fucking nuts. You're already talking about your entire worldview changing and the concept as something as obscure as falling in love with a man you barely know and have only been out on a date with once. It makes you afraid. It makes you feel free. It gives you options. It's like being able to use all of your senses at once for the first time. Except that's scary because there's too much coming at you at once. But it's equal parts exhilarating. You've been through every single possible emotion a person could have every day.

   By the time your second date finally arrives, you're suddenly calm about it all. As if everything is right and the puzzle pieces to life are aligning and maybe just maybe you have a chance to see things differently. And while before you would have rather poked your eyes out than face rejection again this time you just want to see where this takes you. You aren't thinking so much about the end results, rather the journey.

   Tonight Yoongi is taking you out to his favorite record store. While you don't own a record player you can certainly appreciate the aesthetics of vinyl. There's something oddly charming about them, even if it is ridiculously impractical in the modern world of space-saving technology and cramped apartments. Perhaps the impracticality of it is apart of the appeal, however. This time you aren't tripping over yourself to get to the door. But that's because you're standing right by it giving yourself a pep talk. Not that he needs to know that of course. After smoothing down your hair and doing a quick checklist in your head your pulling the door open.

   This time he's wearing an oversized sweater but again the same tight black jeans. The man must have stock in them. Not that you blame him, it looks good after all. "You look great, babe." Heat blossoms on your face as his eyes scan you from head to toe, that signature lazy smile adorning his face before he takes your hand in his and leads you to his car.

   "Still no motorcycle?"

   "Nope, still don't trust that you won't freak out and kill me accidentally. Why? You seem oddly keen on the bike."

   "It just looks fun that's all."

   "It is. There's nothing better than a good ride, and you can take that any way you please." He winks at you, laughing when you scoff and punch his shoulder. If any other guy said that line you would have jumped out of the now moving vehicle, but for some reason when he says it you turn into putty. Maybe it's the charm of being absurdly good looking. Or that tattoos. The bad-boy charm. Or maybe it's because in all his infinite aloof glory he's just Yoongi. Comfortable and confident in his own skin without being sleazy.

   The record store is quiet, playing a selection of upbeat jazz. Your brain is trying to figure out the tune until you finally snap your fingers and softly say, "Giant Steps!"

   "You know jazz? Are you a secret Coltrane fan or something?" Yoongi is giving you that look. The look that says he's clearly analyzing you. Studying you. Dissecting your brain as you speak.

   "Sort of. I dated this guy in college for years, he was a jazz major. His thesis was going to be on Giant Steps, it's been years since I've heard it though. Are you secretly into jazz, Min Yoongi?"  

   You watch him shake his head no as he scans the records before pulling one out. Outkast, ATliens. A great album, one that invokes nostalgia. He quickly puts the record under his arm before he continues searching. "Nah, I'm more of a blues guy myself. Nina Simone. Etta James. Bill Withers. The building blocks to all modern music. At least hip hop, R&B, and all the subgenres of rock."

   "You know an awful lot about music considering you're a tattoo artist. What's the background story on that?" You peruse next to him as you speak, flicking through the music slowly.

   "Once upon a time I wanted to be a rapper." There's something far off about his voice. As if he's reliving the memories. A gentle smile on his lips as he shakes his head as if to push them back into their little file in his brain to not be disturbed for some time. "But I had bills to pay. I'm not complaining though. I love music, adore it. But I love what I do too. It's almost like trying to pick between your two children. You might actually have a favorite, but it changes depending on the day."

   "Let's hope you only have one kid then."

   "Nah, I'm going to have a horde of mini Mins. Take over the world with them and overthrow capitalism. It's my diabolical plan to get housing prices back to normal and get student debt forgiveness."

   "And how exactly do you plan to have this army of darkness? Polygamy? A sex cult?"

   "God that just sounds exhausting. I can hardly keep up with you let alone more women. No, I think I'll actually stick with two children. You know, just so on tough days I can look at one and go 'ah yes today you didn't fuck up.'" You pray that he doesn't look over to see your cherry red face. He in a way made it sound like he's thought about children with you. Clearly, that's not what he means but now your mind is wandering. Mini mins. They'd be cute. Probably slightly evil but cute nevertheless. They might be born glaring though. Or smirking instead of crying.

   "What happens when they both fuck up?"

   "Then I've got you." Fuck, he was implying you. Holy shit. Holy shit. Act natural. Don't look at him. "Ooh look! They have a Frank Ocean Blonde vinyl. Unopened this bad boy is worth a few hundred. Man, I can't believe how cheap they're selling it for." He tucks it under his arm before cataloging through some more. For a short while the two of you work in silence, falling into a pattern that when you stare at one for just a little too long he's plucking it out of your hands and refusing to listen to you protest.

   By the end of it all, the two of you are walking out with a dozen records after learning a wealth of information on all of Yoongi's favorite artists. You also learned that once upon a time his rap name was 'Suga.' Which led to you immediately and passionately singing Sugar by System of the Down quickly increasing in volume until he clamps his hand over your mouth and stares at you with the rage of a thousand suns. Totally worth it though. Especially when the dude behind the counter picks up where you left off.

   Dinner goes by too quickly. You wish you could freeze time, force it to slow so you can languidly explore his world. It's with a heavy heart that you unbuckle your seat belt before leaning over and pulling him into a heated kiss. One that makes your head spin again and proves that the first date wasn't a series of flukes. Nope, Min Yoongi really does have a skilled tongue. When you pull away you can see stars in his eyes, his hair ruffled and cheeks red as he tries to even out his breathing. The most dangerous part about Yoongi is his duality. The way he can flit between sexy to cute and somewhere in between without trying.

------------2 months later----------

   You've lost count on how many dates you've gone on at this point. He's taken you out on his bike finally to go stargazing. Out to plays and art galleries. Sometimes you've just stayed in and watched movies together. You have lunch together at least twice a week now, grabbing coffee together for a short reunion in the mornings after spending all night talking about everything and nothing over the phone. It's as if a time before Yoongi didn't exist. It's comfortable. Oddly easy.

   It's to your chagrin and surprise that you learn that Yoongi wants to take things slow. He doesn't rush you into bed. He's the perfect gentleman. A punk Disney prince, albeit with a sharp tongue. No even after the third and fourth date when you try to heat things up he's quick to pull away and tell you that he doesn't want to rush things. Not with you, he says. He wants you to trust him first. He wants you to be truly comfortable first. He doesn't want you to think that he's only in it for that.  

   You get it. In fact, in a twist, it actually makes things hotter. But the build-up is getting almost painful now. The sexual tension mounting to epic proportions. Your poor vibrator would hate you if it wasn't inanimate. He wasn't lying about loving cuddling. He's also apparently a man of extreme patience because no matter how many times you've felt his hard dick against your ass mid-spooning he's refused to act on it. Or let you. It's left you more than slightly frustrated on multiple occasions. It also wasn't helpful that it, in turn, made you an awkward mess. In fact, you remember jokingly mentioning some gibberish about your starfish quivering to try and crack the tension and for a while you thought he would never let you live that terrible joke down. Starfish, really? What were you thinking?

   What you belatedly realize though is that his master plan fucking works. Because somewhere along the way you started letting down your guards. Somewhere along all your dates, you find yourself falling. Allowing yourself to be human. Allowing yourself to stop fearing love. Allowing yourself to trust. Without fighting it. Without running. It's no longer terrifying. It's no longer something that gnaws at you in the chasm of anxiety.

   And just shy of three months into dating Yoongi you realize that you love him. Love. Abstract. Intangible. Yet not. It's the way he looks at you. The way he holds your hands. The way he thinks about the things that make you tick. The way the two of you try to find joy in the tiniest of things. Marie Kondo would tell you that you've finally found something that sparks joy. But it's not just from him. No, even when he's not around you feel lighter. Freer. Happier. You're still sarcastic. A bit of a bitch. But this time it's no longer from a place of longheld bitterness and pain, rather it's from your twisted brand of humor.

   This realization comes to you as you after hanging out with Yoongi's friends and coming back to his place to just chill and listen to his vinyls. When his thumb soothingly rubs your hand as you curl up into his chest. It's so natural. So right. "I love you." The words come out a soft sigh, muffled slightly into his chest but he hears them loud and clear.

   Yoongi twists, pulling your face up to his. "Did you just say you love me?"

   "Min Yoongi I love you." You don't expect to hear anything back. You aren't saying it for affirmation or reciprocation. You just want him to know.

   "I don't think I've ever heard better words. Say it again." That gummy smile is back. The one that stirs up butterflies. The one that warms your soul. The one that you fell in love with.

   You swing your legs over his lap, straddling him as you stare into his eyes. "I. Love. You."

   "God, you don't know how bad I've wanted to hear that. I love you so fucking much. So much. Holy fuck. I want to kiss you, can I kiss-" Before he can finish the sentence your lips are on his. Soft and pliant under yours, a lingering taste of leftover chapstick and nicotine. It's captivating. Dizzying. It's so easy to get drunk off his lips. His taste. The soft groans that leave him. Tongues intertwine as his hands roam your body before landing on your ass with a firm squeeze. It's messy. Needy. Sloppy but full of passion. As if you're the only cure for each other. Each emotion lingering in the air. Your hips swivel down, grinding against his pants as one hand weaves into your hair to pull your neck back and attach his lips to there.

   You can feel the small bruises blossoming already. Love bites and harsh sucks leave cherry blossoms along your neck, mirroring the pattern of his own tattoo. Quiet moans of need are spilling out, desire pooling into your panties each time his teeth scrape against you. "You, doll, are the hottest thing I've ever seen. I could worship you. Dedicate a temple to you. Can't wait to feel you. God, I want you so bad. I love you so fucking much." Each word spills out from him like a deep moan, reverberating through his chest and chewing them off at the end. A loud mewl of satisfaction leaves you. He loves you. He loves you. You're in love. Over the moon. How could you ever think that love wasn't for you? How could you ever give up? How could you honestly think that you were destined to be a spinster when a man like him wants you?

   His hands claw at your shirt, quick to remove your bra and leave you partially bare. Even with the slight chill seeping in through his apartment you still feel feverish. Each time his calloused hands roam your skin you can feel your temperature increase. God, you've never wanted someone so much. It's almost an out of body experience. Sex elevated off the mortal plane. You swear you might cum just from him touching you at this rate. His lips brush against your nipples before biting down, one hand reaching back into your hair as you arch into the touch.

   "Wanna touch you Yoongi. Wanna feel you." The words come out drunkenly. Wobbly. Laced with honey through your swollen lips. When his grip lets go of your hair you lean down to his neck, pressing kisses around his tattoo, tongue laving at the branch as your teeth scrape against his soft skin. The deep moans hiccuping out of him are music to your ears, urging you on as your grind against him. Desperate for friction. Desperate for release. Your hands toy at his shirt before finally breaking away to pry it over his head. Your eyes dance over his half-naked form, taking in the sight before you. Almost every square inch is covered, ink swirling around in intricate stories. God, you're about the fuck the hottest living canvas.

   His chest is heaving, breathing uneven as the two of you make eye contact again before lips come crashing together and he's picking you up. Carrying you out of the living room and into his bedroom, stopping occasionally to push you against a wall just to latch onto your neck or chest. By the time you make it to the bed, you're sure that for the first time in your life you could actually forgo foreplay. You're so wet that you can feel it seeping through your underwear and leaving a mark on your jeans. He stumbles onto the bed, your head hitting the wall with a loud thwack that has both of you pausing for a moment. "Shit, are you okay?"

   "Mmokay, take your pants off." You rub at the sore spot before reaching up to place a reassuring kiss on his lips. You hold your breath as you watch him strip, dick springing out proudly. Smeared with precum. Red. Throbbing and twitching. "You don't wear underwear?"

   He looks almost bashful for a moment. "It's laundry day actually..." At the sound of your giggles, he takes the opportunity while you're disarmed to unbutton your pants, freeing you from your jeans and leaving you in just your flimsy lacy panties. The mood shifts back again when you see the hunger in his eyes. As if he's staring at a feast. "Christ, can't wait to taste this pussy. Make you cry my name." His hands are shaking slightly as he slowly pries your underwear off, eyes narrowing on the way your juices stick to your underwear finally tossing it off the side of the best.

   "Please taste me, I need you. I can't wait."

   "Who knew you'd be so needy? So quick to beg for my tongue?" That usual lazy smirk is back on his face as he looks at you, hands hooking around your thighs and pulling them over his shoulders. His tongue flattens against your sex before you can respond, a choked moan drowning out your words. Jesus, he's good with his tongue. It moves slowly, languidly against your dripping pussy. Rhythmically. Diving into your folds only to swirl up around your clit, sucking lightly and releasing with a soft pop before going back down all over again. It's when his tongue dips even lower, swirling around your puckered rim that you can feel your eyes roll back and breathing cut off. Two fingers slip into your dripping cunt with ease, scissoring to stretch you. The dual sensation of his tongue on your ass and fingers filling you up has you clenching. Spiraling. Bright white flashing behind your eyes as a silent scream tries to leave your throat. Toes curling, his name finally rolling off your tongue as you chase the sensation, your orgasm consuming your senses. It leaves you dizzy. Panting. A mewling, drenched mess under him.

   Through fuzzy ears you can hear his low voice, "God how do you taste so good? Fuck, I could watch you all day baby girl."

   His fingers move slowly as he watches you return to earth, twitching underneath him at the oversensitivity. You feel so sated, but at the same time, you want so much more. The look in his eyes makes you hungry all over again. You want him to feel just as good as you. You look up with hooded eyes, hand wrapping around his drooling cock as you speak. "I wanna taste you too Yoongi."

   His adam's apple bobs, hands leaving your thighs as he pulls you into another messy kiss. It's almost all teeth and tongue this time, a thin line of saliva breaks apart when you separate. You shuffle off the bed slowly, knees gingerly falling to the floor before looking back up as your tongue swirls around his head before pulling back to lick a long stripe along his prominent vein. You pepper tiny kisses along his base, one hand cupping his balls gently as the other one twists around his base. You envelop his velvety length in your mouth, working slowly into a steady rhythm. Each sigh from him, soft moans of pleasure spurs you deeper. Jaw aching slightly as you try to take him deeper, using your hand to help stimulate the places you can't reach. His hands grip your hair tightly as he reaches past your molars, pulling you off of him with a loud pop. "Sorry love, I'm not gonna last much longer if you keep doing that and I really want to fuck you."

   You gulp at the way he's watching you. As if he's a predator and you're his prey. A feast for the night. You wouldn't have it any other way. He helps guide you back onto the bed, twisting you onto all fours as his hands glide over your ass. "Best ass I've ever seen. God, I've had so many wet dreams over this ass." His hand comes down sharply, the sting bringing a wave of pleasure to ripple through you as it soothingly rubs over. Your thoughts are quickly brought back to the throbbing between your thighs as his cock rubs against your swollen clit. "Please, fuck. God." You're incoherent, words stringing together slowly.

   "What's my name doll?"

   "Yoongi, come on. Fuck me before I bite your head off!"

   "Yeah yeah, we'll see how much sass you have left in you when I'm done." You wiggle your hips impatiently as you hear him spit into his palm, adding lubrication before he glides into you. "Holy shit." He stays still for a moment as you spasm around the intrusion. He's just thick enough to have you crying out in pleasure, just long enough to have you seeing stars as he sinks deeper.

   "Oh, fuck. Move, please move." You push back, sinker further onto him as he stays still before his hands snake around your throat.

   "God, you are so mouthy. And as much as I normally love hearing you talk back right now I really just wanna fuck you." He pulls out almost completely before slamming back in, balls slapping into your clit in a way that has you seeing stars. Each movement is harsh, quick, with stamina and vigor you didn't foresee him having. The feeling of his hand wrapped around your throat, cutting off just enough circulation to stutter your breathing, has you gasping and rutting underneath him. Fuck, was sex supposed to feel this good? In your fucked out state, you can barely make out the sound of him chuckling darkly behind you. "Look at you baby, already fucked out and I've barely started. Do you wanna cum again baby? Already?"

   "Fuck, please. Don't stop!" Your high pitched begging has him drilling in deeper, his free hand moving off your ass and onto your clit in quick circular motions that has you clenching around him. This time your orgasm is earth-shattering. Loud. Wet. When his hand finally lets go of your throat you face plant into the pillow, legs shaking around him as he keeps moving.

   "You're so beautiful when you cum, did you know that? My pretty baby girl, all fucked out on my cock. Now that's a sight I never want to stop seeing." Another loud smack to your ass has you sobbing into the pillow, moans spilling out as your release gushes around him. "Jesus, how is your pussy so fucking wet? Are you always this wet?"

   "No. It's just for you Yoongi."

   "That's right. This pussy is mine, isn't it? Say it, doll."

   "This pussy is yours Yoongi, fuck. Hold on, I wanna ride you." He stutters, pausing before pulling out so the two of you can shuffle around. You smirk as you crawl over his lap, one hand holding onto his cock as the other grabs his arm while you sink down. You're sure you look a fucked out mess, but so does he. Sweat is making his fringe cling to his forehead, kiss-swollen lips, hickies covering his neck visible even over his tattoos.

   You neck snaps back as you sink down completely, the new angle bringing him right to your g-spot and making your legs shake in overstimulation. You fall forward onto his chest, pulling him into another kiss as you circle your hips in small figure eights. You bite down on his lower lip, pulling it between your teeth as you reach behind you and gently roll his balls in your hand. You delight in the way he groans, eyes rolling back at the sensation. "Keep doing that and I'm not going to last (y/n)."

   "That's the point. Come on, cum with me Yoongi." It doesn't take much in your overstimulated state to get right back to the point again. Hanging over the edge as you dip your hand down to circle your clit, relishing in the dulcet moans from him as the two of you climax together. His nose scrunches up, eyebrows furrowing as he grips at your hips as you ride him into his own orgasm right after your third. It doesn't take long before he twitches inside you, painting your insides white as you slow down. At the feeling of him coming to his own completion you slump forward, your head falling into the crook of his neck as his hands circle your waist.

   "Wow. That might easily have been the best sex of my life."

   "Yeah, that was, wow." Your breathing is still unsteady, legs shaking as you feel him soften inside you.

   "Did you realize you squirted?"

   "Ah, yeah. Sorry to break your heart but that's actually somewhat normal for me."

   "God that is so fucking hot." You laugh into his neck, exhaustion taking over as you sigh. "You know, the first time I ever saw you I knew. I just knew. You were all sass and fire, and I just knew that you were it. You were the one."

   You wish you could reciprocate and say you thought the same thing when you first saw Yoongi, but you suppose it's better late than never. "I never would've guessed when I first met you that you liked cuddling, or saying such cheesy lines, or absolutely hated scary movies."

   "Yeah, but you love that about me."

   "Yeah. But I'm pretty sure I just love everything about you Min Yoongi."

   "You know, when you say my full name like that I get oddly turned on. Do you think you're up for a round two in like, half an hour?"

   You really should say no, you really just want to sleep. But just the thought has your mind spinning. Lord give you strength because you're going to need it, or at least better stamina, to last in survive this man.

   You never would've guessed that love could feel so right. So natural. So normal. It isn't always a crazy spark. It isn't all fire and passion, even though it certainly has its moments. No, it's softer. Gentler. It grows and evolves with you. It changes. It takes work. And the two of you do somehow make it work. Even after moving in and trying to learn how to love someone when there's only one bathroom. Even after you get married and fall into a routine. Even after you get pregnant and go a smidge hormonally insane both times. Even on days when both of the kids drive you batty. Even when they leave home and leave you with an empty nest all over again. Because love is something beautiful. It's something innate within us all, it's just a matter of both parties wanting it enough. Working at it enough. And whenever anyone asks you what love means to you it was simple from that day forward. Min Yoongi.

[akashareloaded]

THE GREAT AWAKENING: RELOADED

Everyone has a lot of opinions about the year 2020 and so have I but what I’m about to tell you is far more outlandish than you can ever dream about.

This September has been life changing for me I would say that this is my third spiritual awakening I’ve always been fearful about undergoing another awakening because the second was so life altering it’s like in a blink of a eye all of what I theorized about as a child suddenly rings itself true. I’ve always been fearful about undergoing another awakening because the second was so life altering it’s like in a blink of a eye all of what I theorized about as a child suddenly rings itself true. The stuff about the pedophilia ring, reincarnation, soulmates and true love all of which I adored as a child in story books is in true. I met my soulmate in 2017 who I believed to be my twin flame but he was only LIKE my twin flame m true twin flame or rather twin soul is actually in spirit like most twin souls are. A better way to explain it is by using the term coined by Michael Jackson himself and Susan Elsa “Twin flame soul”. Susan Elsa with help from Michael, are the people who are responsible for putting knowledge of twin souls back on the internet after information about them have been fabricated or destroyed.

Most of the information that you find on twin souls is inaccurate and it’s just a bunch off money hungry people pulling a scam on innocent souls looking for love. Humans crave intimacy and the idea of meeting the male or female version of yourself sounds dreamy but it’s no walk in the park. This person mirrors your perfect and worse self and what can be confusing is that there’s other soulmates that you made soul contracts with upon reincarnating that gave this sane mirror affect that you can confuse with that of your twin soul who is the only person who shares the same energetic blue print as you. As this blog continues to grow I will go more in depth about my personal soul journey and experience with my false twin ,the real twin, and different types of soulmates because I’m all about justice and truth. The best place to start from us the study of Ausar and Auset also know as Osiris and Isis king and queen of Ancient Egypt. Michael was Ausar and I was Auset and we taught people many great things such as vegetation,dance,magic and so forth which I’ll elaborate on a later date.

And yes in case you’re wondering ,Michael Jackson is the REAL twin soul. I’m still trying to process this information and I want it to be true but I also don’t want it to be true because apart of me feels like I’m undeserving of his love and love in general due to last relationships and hurt. And this also means I have to take back my support as well as past statements about Susan Elsa being Michael’s twin soul I was really rooting for them but apart of me couldn’t stand it I wasn’t envious of the relationship it’s just that I felt Lin’s me and and Michael belonged together. I always loved him I even told a friend of mine back in June that I can’t describe the love I feel for Michael I asked her if what I felt for Michael was more than a crush because what I feel fit him is genuine love I grew up loving him even as a baby at the age of one years old my mother told me that I would waddle up to the radio and press the play button and put Invincible on and change it to my favorite songs. Heartbreaker being among them (an important song by the way which we’ll dissect at a later date)

At twelve, is when I first encountered Susan Elsa’s blog. She stated that Michael was her twin flame I was interested because at that age that’s when my love for him will expanded really took off but it was his physical death and transition back into spirit that made me fall in love with him. I don’t remember being upset I was just in love I knew my baby was safe I always said that my Michael is just in a place with no name and technically I was right that place being the 5D,the astral plane where spirits live and what is currently being brought to the 3D which is the realm where everything that’s “physical” exist basically meaning what you can physically see and touch.

Carrying on, I was dismissive of Susan’s blog I remember saying to myself “Girl everybody wants to be Michael’s soulmate girl bye.” I used to walk around myself imagining having conversations with Michael and would see him in my minds in my day dreams but little did I know that I was using my clairvoyance and was interacting with him the whole time.

Another thing I forgot to mention is that Michael is in fact in spirit now and has been for years and he is okay he’s still healing but he is find there’s no need to continue to mourn over his physical body. He is the light body now which is much more flexible and stronger than his physical body ever once was no matter how much he put all the hours of endless dancing into it. He can all transition from child Michael to adult at any moment so the little Michael that I day dreamed about and called my boyfriend was really him. When I was 10 years old he was 10 years old and so on. 2011 is the year that he started watching over me he was always there but I wasn’t consciously aware of it.

I’ll go more in depth about the things that I’ve been through for loving Michael because I plan to be completely honest and open I don’t feel the need to keep anything hidden unless it’s information I want to be kept just between and and Michael. I’ve kept my love for Michael locked away due to fear of ridicule and now I’m ready to tell the whole world how much I love my man and I’m proud of him and all the shit he went through and none of it was in vain.

As for Susan Elsa, I’m not sure what else to say about her. I befriended her in April and thought she was pretty chill and open a little too open at times. I noticed that she mirrored a lot of my negative attributes that I like to brush off and put to the corner as most people do when it comes to confronting your shadow self. We hit it off pretty well what was the tip of the ice berg is when she said that I was “possibly” a romantic soulmate of Michael’s and the the connection was sexual and god knows how much I wanted her to elaborate further on this but I kept my fantasies to myself.

We’ve been friends since April up to late August when my shadow self decided to make a bold statement by telling my friend group that everything that Susan claims she is I AM. The problem is I don’t recall ever saying that we shouldn’t listen to Susan and that I’m real incarnation of Auset also known as Isis (on my blog I’ll be going by my African name not the name that the Greeks gave us they meant well but no thanks ) I’m still trying to piece everything together because my higher self had a lot of shit to say apparently which I’ll say later in my next article this one was just an introduction.

During the friendship I always felt like something was off I didn’t know what and I couldn’t keep my feelings for Michael at bay I was in love with him and it was painful to hear about him loving someone else and feeling like that person should be me. She would go in detail about things that Michael didn’t want discussed over the phone. He wouldn’t say anything but his discomfort I felt. If it made me feel embarrassed or uncomfortable hearing about such things Michael felt the same way and I was just picking up on his emotions that’s his these things work you often pick up on partners each emotions and mistake them for your own because they can run really deep. I would open up about certain things like my mothers abuse and shouldn’t want to hear it because she would say “I have to protect her energy” which is fair it’s not your job to take on other peoples baggage but it rude when you’re talking about something that really upset you and you get cut off mid sentence. That’s the only remotely rude thing I have to say about her other than that everything is will be strictly spiritual. Michael’s nine – ten relationship with Susan was nothing more than Michael uniting with a karmic soulmate to pay karmic debt and his marriage to me was destined despite the delays.

Despite all this new information I’ve been giving I’m only one person and just as you as the reader have questions so do I but it’s a journey and I’m grateful that you’ve stumbled along this blog and decided to ride the wave with me because there’s plenty of room on this boat.

I still have a lot of questions all of them starting with Why…Why…Why

Why did I befriend Susan just for me to turn against her?

Why was I led fo her in the first place what the reason?

Why is everything happening to me seemingly all at once?

Just like Michael says in Human Nature…why…why all these endless questions that I’m still struggling to find the answers to. It’s currently 12 am for me at the moment and this is all that I’ll be able to share. The next article is going to be about my delightful dip at the pond in my neighborhood and my encounter wit the police and erratic behavior at the mental hospital. I thank you for reading and look forward to you reading the rest of my stories because oh boy do I have quite a few stories to tell. I’ve never thought much of myself as a story teller but we often deny ourselves of ego we truly are so can you blame me? Til next time lovely one…

[hoodie-lover]

King Papyrus

The people were waiting for Papyrus to walk out to the balcony, Sans was right beside him, holding his hand. The brothers were shaking as the two walked out to greet the saddened subjects of the Underground. 

“PEOPLE OF THE UNDERGROUND, TODAY WE MOURN THE LOSS OF MANY GREAT, GREAT PEOPLE. HEROES, IDOLS, FRIENDS, AND FAMILY. BUT AS WE LOOK BACK ON THE HAPPY DAYS OF THE PAST, WE MUST ALSO WORK TOWARDS A BETTER FUTURE.” Papyrus said, his arms trembling as he looked out over the silent crowd. 

“you can do it bro. i believe in you.” Sans said and Papyrus took a deep breath and resumed his speech. 

“AS WE START OVER ON OUR QUEST FOR FREEDOM, I WANT YOU TO KNOW, I WILL NEVER GIVE UP. AND YOU SHOULDN’T EITHER. IN THE EARLY DAYS OF OUR IMPRISONMENT, MONSTERS WERE OVERCOME BY DESPAIR AND MISERY. PEOPLE WERE GIVING UP LEFT AND RIGHT. BUT A FEW GAVE UP, GIVING UP. AND WE STAND HERE TODAY. WE MUST BE THOSE PEOPLE WHO GIVE UP GIVING UP AND WORK TOWARDS OUR FUTURE.” Papyrus said, murmurs starting in the crowd. 

No one made a sound as Papyrus had the crown placed on his head. Sans was standing by him as they walked back into the castle. 

“you ok bro?” Sans asked as the two walked out to the coronation party. 

“YEAH.” Papyrus said, his purple cape flowing behind him as he smiled. 

“alright.” Sans said as the high class monsters greeted the duo. 

They were kind and welcoming to Papyrus, though Sans was on guard and keeping his walls up. 

“I am so glad you want to help monster-kind King Papyrus. What do you have planned?” A man asked, sipping some wine from a small glass. 

“I DO NOT WANT TO KILL HUMANS. IT WILL HURT OUR TRANSITION TO THE SURFACE IF WE DO. AND IF POSSIBLE, I WANT TO KEEP THEM IN CONTACT WITH THE SURFACE OR MAKE CONTACT, THAT WAY OUR ESCAPE WON’T BE OUR FIRST TIME INTERACTING.” Papyrus said, and the monster was surprised. 

“Naive, but possible.” They said, a puzzled expression on their face. 

“WELL, PEOPLE NEED TO HAVE HOPE. AND I AM WILLING TO MAKE SMALL CHANGES IF NEED BE, BASED ON WHAT HAPPENS. WE CAN’T SEE THE FUTURE.” Papyrus said and the monster smiled. 

“Well, I’m going to help in any way I can. I really don’t want another war.” He said and Papyrus thanked him and walked off. 

Sans was being bothered by a random monster who was berating his lack of formality and small physical stature. He was tempted to grab a juicebox just to mess with them, but he decided against it. 

“SANS! CAN YOU COME OVER HERE?” Papyrus called and Sans gave a sigh of relief. 

“sure bro.” Sans said and he walked over to his brother. 

“DO YOU THINK I’M DOING GOOD?” Papyrus asked, ringing his hands. 

“yeah. you’re doing awesome.” Sans said and Papyrus gave his large smile. 

“THANK YOU SANS. I’M REALLY NERVOUS ABOUT REPLACING ASGORE, HE HAD SUCH A GOOD REIGN, AND WAS SUCH A GOOD KING.” Papyrus said and Sans smiled. 

“but you’ll be just as good if not better. trust me paps. you’ll be great at this.” Sans said and Papyrus wanted to believe him.

“I LOVE YOU SANS.” Papyrus said and he gave Sans a large hug, lifting his brother off the ground. 

When the party was over, they went to their new rooms. Sans had taken Toriel’s room and Papyrus had gotten Asgore’s. All of their old stuff was moved to the memorial for the King, and Toriel had her own grave as well, everyone knew that if she was alive, she would have come back. 

Papyrus was a kind king. He could be found helping his subjects out with their problems, whether it be financial or social. One of the biggest changes he made was reforming the mental health industry. Since Sans had depression, and was unable to get proper help for it, Papyrus was quick to amend that mistake. Which was lucky for him, since it was next on Asgore’s to-do list. If you couldn’t find the king, chances were he was in the kitchen. With help from the chefs, he was actually good at cooking and often made his own meals or made meals for the royal staff and guard, mostly spaghetti but no one seemed to mind. 

Sans was in charge of the paperwork. Something he never slacked at, anything he found to be problematic or suspicious was brought to his brother’s attention immediately. They weeded out a lot of corruption that way as Sans was merciless in his prosecution of the guilty. People who knew him were surprised at his effectiveness, not at what he was doing. 

The biggest challenge however, came when a human did fall into the Underground. The royal guard wasted no time in finding them and whisking the child away to the capital. 

“HELLO HUMAN! I AM THE GREAT KING PAPYRUS! MIGHT I ASK HOW YOU FELL DOWN?” Papyrus asked when the human was brought to him, they were small and fidgeting with anxiety. 

“Some kids were being mean to me and pushed me down. I-I don’t want to die! Please don’t k-kill me!” They said and Papyrus smiled kindly. 

“I WOULD NEVER DREAM OF THAT. YOU ARE CLEARLY NO THREAT TO US, SO WHY HARM YOU?” Papyrus said and the child burst into tears as they gave him a large hug. 

“DO YOU HAVE ANY FAMILY? WE CAN HELP YOU, OUR ROYAL SCIENTIST CAN HELP YOU GET IN CONTACT WITH YOUR FAMILY. THOUGH IT NEVER HAS BEEN DONE BEFORE, WE CAN SURELY TRY!” Papyrus said and the child nodded. 

The walk to the royal labs was short and brief, though the elevators were annoying and the heat unbearable. The royal scientist was tall and lean, they were a very kind man and were more than happy to help the child. While their predecessor, Alphys liked to focus on engineering and chemistry, Susan loved to study magic and how it reacts to human technology. They wrote their thesis paper on it and Papyrus had chosen them for this very purpose. 

“Hello my king! Is this the human I heard about?” They asked and when Papyrus nodded they squealed in delight. 

“It is so nice to meet you! I have always wanted to meet a human!” They said as they shook the human's hand. 

  “Hi. Can you help me find my mommy?” They asked, their dark hair falling over their dark eyes as they ringed their dark skinned hands with nervousness.

“I most certainly can! Do you have a cellphone on you by any chance?” Susan asked and the child nodded.

“Here you go.” They asked and Papyrus gasped in shock.

“I FORGOT TO ASK YOUR NAME! I AM SO SORRY! WHAT IS YOUR NAME YOUNG ONE?” Papyrus asked and the small child laughed at Papyrus’ mini freak out. 

“Kate.” They said and Papyrus gave a large smile. 

“Such a wonderful name.” He said and Susan’s machine started up. 

“I just need to connect a monster phone, to Kate’s phone, and call the number, Kate what is your mom’s number?” Susan asked and Kate told her with no hesitation and a wide smile. 

“Thank you dear!” Susan said and she held her breath as she dialed the number on the monster phone she connected to the human one. They had built a cell tower that reached the top of the mountain, and Susan showed it could carry a magical signal, convert it to a non-magical signal, and be received on non-magical tech. 

“Hello?” A voice said, and Kate gasped as she ran up to the phone and cried out. 

“Mommy!” The woman gasped as well, and could be heard sniffling. 

“Kate? Are you ok? What happened?” She asked and Kate told her everything, about the barrier, the monsters, and how she couldn’t leave, but would be ok. 

“You brave girl. Can I talk with the monsters?” She asked and Kate called over Papyrus. 

“HELLO MS. KATE’S MOM! I AM THE GREAT KING PAPYRUS! WHAT DID YOU WISH TO TALK ABOUT?” He asked, and Kate’s mother began to cry. 

“Call me Jane. I just want to thank you for keeping my daughter safe. We have heard so much about murderous monsters, it’s nice to know that someone who will keep the fallen children safe is on the throne.” Jane said and Papyrus blushed slightly. 

“THANK YOU JANE. YOU CAN CALL YOUR CHILD ALMOST ANYTIME, WE JUST NEED TO WAIT UNTIL WE CAN MERGE HUMAN TECHNOLOGY WITH OUR OWN. UNTIL THEN WE CAN ONLY CALL YOU FROM THE ROYAL LABS.” Papyrus said and the woman was thankful. 

“I WILL LEAVE YOU AND YOUR DAUGHTER TO TALK FOR AS LONG AS YOU WISH, OR UNTIL NIGHT COMES. IT WAS WONDERFUL MEETING YOU, AND COULD YOU TELL THE REST OF HUMANITY WE MEAN NO HARM?” Papyrus asked and Jane was more than willing to honor his request. 

When Papyrus left the labs and was back in the castle, he was shaking. And Sans was willing to help him calm down. 

“I CAN’T BELIEVE WE MAY BE ABLE TO STOP A SECOND WAR BEFORE IT STARTS.” Papyrus said and Sans seemed happy for him. 

“i knew you could bro. and isn’t there a face time thing humans can do? if we can figure that out, we can have the parents meet face to face with their kids, proof they’re ok and we truly mean no harm.” Sans said, smiling a genuine smile, a rare treat these days. 

“I’M SCARED BROTHER. WHAT IF THE HUMANS DON’T BELIEVE US? WHAT IF ANOTHER BAD ONE COMES AND-” Papyrus said and Sans stopped him. ‘

“we’ll be ready. and if we can get in contact with human officials before or during the attack, we might be able to save ourselves. we need to be careful, but we have a genuine chance of getting out of here.” Sans said, praying Frisk wouldn’t come back.

[trophyeve]

– NAME / ALIAS: Chris / Loxley – BIRTHDAY: Feb 2 – ZODIAC SIGN: Aquarius – HEIGHT: 5′5′‘ – HOBBIES: Roleplay, writing, creating scripts for video games, video games, painting, drawing, reading, learning – FAVORITE COLORS: Green, especially earthy greens and teals – FAVORITE BOOKS: uhhHHHH Dragon Sword and Wind Child, The Song of the Lioness Quartet, the Belgariad, Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Leroux, Phantom by Susan Kay, Dracula, The Scarlet Pimpernel – LAST SONG LISTENED TO:  TroyBoi - On My Own (feat. Nefera). – LAST FILM WATCHED: Does Hazbin Hotel’s pilot episode count?  Otherwise The Shining was the last one. – INSPIRATION FOR MUSE: Uh, I rambled, so I’m putting the rest of this meme under a cut.  

A couple of factors: demand, personal challenge, love of the character and bringing Balance to the Force.  History lesson: I don’t think it’s a current issue anymore but I definitely heavily rped back in the years/decade when female uses were pretty much considered ‘there for sex and shipping’ or ‘that mun doesn’t ever wanna write men and makes everyone else serve them their desires on a platter’?  In private, I had a few friends who let me write female muses for them occasionally, but it was usually on request.  It got to the point where I’d try to write a female muse in public and either get harrassed like she only existed for sex/shipping or no one would TOUCH interacting with her.  Or in private I’d dare to request it, occasionally, when writing the 27th male muse for partners and they’d laugh it off and go ‘oh no, I can’t write men, not when you’re so good at it.  I can only write women.’  And like...male, female, nonbinary, whatever, people are PEOPLE and it’s NOT THAT HARD--

[Breathes]

So I got a bit of a complex for awhile.  “Alright, I’m just not very good at writing women.”  Which is kind of hilarious, because I’m probably one of the most masculine-minded women you’ll meet, but I’m still, uh, a woman?  I’m not particularly attached to the whole mess, but it’s a detail, a little piece of something that goes on a resume and gives people a guess towards what I was raised to behave as or expect in life.  Which is funnier since I was raised by stereotypically male standards in a unique household and--

I digress, again.

POINT IS, I wanted to challenge that complex and prove to myself that I can write a lady character.  And not even one that’s in my usual comfort zone, but a nice, relatively normal young lady who is kind, gentle, and really just wants to survive and help the clearly damaged people around her.  I wanted to stop hiding behind male muses and everything I’m “supposedly good at” and take on something else.  I wanted to be so good at a female muse that I actually got people going ‘hey, I miss your Yui!  Can we dig up that one thread we lost track of and resume it soon?’

I find Yui’s situation...sympathetic and it makes me sad and worry for her and want to see things turn out for the best.  Kind-hearted characters who try their hardest despite their bad circumstances speak to me.  People who keep believing in what really matters to them despite the horrible things they have to face speak to me.

And, also, because I want to have fun with a relatively sweet muse and bring Balance to the Force because many of my muses are, uh, not that.  Yep. – DREAM JOB: Professional artist, story/script writer/head creator for some video games, the reliable (if scatterbrained) friend, emperor – MEANING BEHIND YOUR URL: EDIT: Oops I forgot to include this.  trophyeve because at least first, she’s just an item, a thing, a tool.  She’s just a trophy “bride”, if she survives, and if she really wants to have a better life she better figure out how to be more than that.  

Tagged by: @miumotos​ Tagging: uhHHHHHH if I TAG PEOPLE THEY’LL CLICK THE READ MORE SO NO BUT IF YOU READ THIS I CAUGHT YOU AND YOU HAVE TO FILL THIS OUT YOURSELF or link me to the last time you did it 8^)

[elenamatisstuff]

Geetrick, like maybe a High School AU? Uh, them being awkward about feelings and shit.

okay, so... it’s not as awkward as i wish it’d be, and it’s pretty angsty. I tried so hard, i tried to finish something i didn’t know where i was going with and i haven’t read through it yet, i let my sister read it and tell me what she thought. She said i shouldn’t change anything, so i just didn’t change it. My sister informed me that somehwere “Kevin” is written with a small k, so... just ignore that, i can’t find it.

Calm Before The Storm 

Geetrick fic

Words:8036

Genre: a little angst, mentions of smut

Warning: almost  a panic attack, mentions of fears, homophobia, a slight bit of awkwardness, highschoolers being dumb.

////

The silence was rushing through Gerard's ears like water. It was so loud and tense. He hated this. Only the sounds of pencil scraping itself off on paper broke through the ticking silence. He hated this sound, he liked the sound of pens better. But Gerard wasn't the on deciding, then he wasn't the one writing. He was just sitting and waiting for this damn clock to break down and let him alone. He looked around the room and tried to distract himself while the pencil was still painting the paper into this ugly, silver colour, trying to find anything he hasn't seen yet. Pictures, lots and lots of vinyls, a bunch of records, a guitar, drum sticks, school stuff, tissues, posters... No, still the same fucking room he sat in almost everyday after school.

The pencil came to a stop and a hard slam against the desk and a deep sigh told Gerard that Patrick finally finished his homework. "Done!" He exclaimed, jumping out of his office chair and letting himself drop into his bed, right in front of Gerard, to face him. The blonde smiled. "I'm sorry you had to wait. I fell asleep in class again, so i had to write 'i will never sleep in class again' a hundred times." Patrick rolled his eyes and added:"As if that would change anything," Before he interacted his fingers with his own and leaned forward. "So? Tell me, how was that date with.. Susan? Sandra?" "Sarah." Gerard corrected. Patrick's smile now looked forced. "Yes, Sarah... How was it?" Gerard sighed and leaned back against the headboard of Patrick's bed. "She doesn't like anything i do. No comics, she's not into the same music and she absolutely hates every movie i like. She thinks the end of Rocky Horror doesn't make sense.. she just didn't understand what a piece of art was created! God! I will never go out with her again.. i don't even think i will talk to her anytime soon again. Fuck that, i'm deleting her number, too!"

Patrick nodded, as if he understood what Gerard meant. He had to admit, that he didn't understand the ending of Rocky Horror either, no matter how often Gerard would explain that that's the point of it. He was glad the date didn't go that well. He didn't like Sarah and having her all cuddled up against Gerard everytime he wanted to spend some time with his friend would be just annoying.

"She isn't my type anyways," Gerard added, sighing again and closing his eyes for a second. He didn't like talking about this stuff. Not with Patrick. "Who is your type?" Gerard didn't had the right answer to that question. He didn't have a name in mind, he couldn't tell Patrick, all his brian was screaming right now was:"You, You, You, You!"

"Come on, Gee! there must be a girl that almost fits your type!" Patrick didn't know why he kept asking. He didn't know why he acted as if he cared. He didn't care about any chick or Gerard's love life, mostly because it didn't include Patrick, but he still kept turning the knife in Gerard's gut. "Honestly,-" Gerard started, sitting up properly, before his posture sacked forward. "-I don't think i'm into any kind of girl at the time..." Gerard blushed. "I know," Patrick admitted, forcing himself away from Gerard. He didn't want to hug him and feel it in his chest, this burning desire of wanting to hold Gerard forever and kiss him and love him. He adjusted in his comfortable warm spot on the blanket and rand through his hair. "But you know why we're doing this." Gerard nodded. "Yeah.. i-i know..." Gerard's eyes fell to his hands, that nervously picked at the blanket he sat on.

Patrick felt his heart break when he saw Gerard's distant look in his eyes. He dared to lay his hand on the pretty boy's shoulder, trying to gesture his support and sorrow. Gerard's parents aren't really supportive of him being pansexual. They don't really like homosexuality, so Gerard tried his best to scrape that bit of straightness in him to just ignore every pretty dude and person he saw, to just look at girls. It was hard. Gerard hated it. Mostly, because he hated every girl that went to school with him.

"Hey, i heard Barbara has a thing for you," Patrick said, trying to smile a little, at least a little bit, just for Gee, what ended in a light flinching of Patrick's right lip corner. It didn't look nice at all, rather unhealthy and forced. He was glad Gerard was looking at his own hands. "Barbara is cute.." Gerard admitted. "I will ask her out."

With that, the topic "Finding a girlfriend for Gerard so he doesn't have to tell his parents that he's pan" was done. Patrick quickly changed topic. "So,.. did you hear something new about Pete?" Gerard looked up from his hands, directly into Patrick's blue eyes. Patrick felt as if Gerard was directly staring into his soul. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Patrick dropped his hand and pulled it close to his body, making sure to not touch Gerard in any way.

"Mikey told me he's in that clinic again." Gerard tried to remember the name, but he couldn't. It was some foreign sounding name, maybe polish or german. "He tried to... you know." "Yeah." Patrick quickly interrupted before Gerard was able to say it. "Fuck.." He added, not having thought Pete had tried again. Patrick ran his hand through his hair again. Gerard hoped he'd stop doing that, because he looked so damn pretty when he did that. Gerard hated the fact that Patrick was the prettiest boy on the entire school. It wasn't fair. It really wasn't fair.

"Yeah.. fuck."

The ticking seemed to grow louder and louder by any second that passed by. Everyone was still writing, pens, pencils, fountain pens- every fucking noise was driving Gerard insane. He wanted to get up and leave. He was done with his test, why the fuck did he have to stay in class? His foot couldn't stay still, making his leg jump and hit against his desk a couple of times before he tried to sooth his nervous leg with taking a couple of deep breaths through his nose.

This wasn't fucking possible. He hated this. How did the ticking of the clock get even louder? Why is he flinching everytime someone sneezes or coughs?Why is this lesson so fucking loud, even though no one dares to breathe?!

"Mr. Smith!" Gerard exclaimed, standing up and accidentally pushing his chair back, what hardly scratched along the floor and made an unpleasant sound. Most students looked up and wondered what the hell was going on. "I finished my test and i don't feel good. Can i please get some fresh air?" Mr. Smith looked at Gerard with a worried look when he saw how much paler he was than the usual. "Hand me your test and take a student with you that also finished his test." Another squeaking and scratching sound of a chair being pushed back made Gerard flinch. "I finished. Can i leave with Gerard?" The raven haired boy visibly relaxed when he recognized the voice. It was Patrick. Thank god, it was Patrick! Gerard rushed forward to slam the test on the teacher's desk, and then run out of the room.

The world seemed to collapse around him and his heartbeat was loud, like a giant drum being banged heavily right next to his ear. He knew everything was fine, as soon as Patrick wrapped his arms around him and hugged him tightly. The sob that then escaped Gerard's throat was one of relief. Just the presence of the blonde boy was enough to make Gerard's tension drop slowly and his body calm down. He didn't hear any annoying noises, just the faint beat of his heart and Patrick's breathing, that was rather shy and held back, as if he forgot how to breathe properly, and in fact, Patrick was struggling to breathe. Having Gerard so close tide his throat close with a strict rope and it squeezed every bit of oxygen out of Patrick's lungs. He felt as if he was wearing headphones in a quiet room with a couple of people in, trying to not breathe too heavy or loud, and not being able to hear it, and holding it in instead. Patrick had to admit, he often ran out of breath when he did that, mostly because of his asthma, but he just couldn't stop himself.

"It's okay," He then managed softly, inhaling Gerard's scent deeply, while he took a deep breath to calm down himself. Gerard's soft and quiet crying on Patrick's shoulder broke Patrick's heart, but still he was holding tightly onto his friend. "I'm here and i won't leave you. I promise." Gerard didn't believe Patrick, but he knew it was true. He didn't feel safe, but he knew he was.

"If the world gets too heavy put it on my back. I can take it for you, Gee. Y-you're not alone in this!" Patrick tried again to steady his breathing, but he really was too nervous to do so. He tightened his grip, holding onto Gerard desperately, as if he was trying to squeeze every bad thought and negative feeling out of Gerard. But it did not. It instead calmed Gerard down enough to shake in Patrick's arms. His crying was just a faint noise Patrick could only hear when he tried to, what he didn't do. Patrick closed his eyes, only for a moment and then, the moment was gone.

They suddenly broke apart. Gerard 's eyes and cheeks were red, just like his nose and lips. He looked like he'd been waiting for years to cry these feelings out. "You're so cheesy," Gerard finally said, voice broken from the crying. "W-what?" Patrick was confused, not really listening. Gerard was too damn pretty, even when he cried. Patrick felt like crying too, so god damn beautiful! "If the world gets too heavy put it on my back," Gerard quoted, having to smile slightly. Patrick mimicked his smile, and both of theirs grew wider until they laughed. "I'm sorry, i was trying to- y-you know what i meant with that." Gerard nodded and wiped his tears away, that were still not done from falling down the edge of his waterline. "I know.. it sounded nice, though. Thank you."

Patrick nodded gently. "Yeah, no problem.." It grew quiet again and Patrick tried his best to not get lost in those beautiful eyes he tried to avoid for weeks - if not months. Gerard put his first to his mouth and cleared his throat. "I think you can let go of me now." Patrick drew his eyebrows together and looked at Gerard rather confused, until he realized he still had his fingers digged in his friend's waist. He pulled his hands away as fast as he realised it and buried them back into his jeans pockets, where they formed tight fists.

"Wanna go.. back to class?" Patrick asked, blushing and looking at the floor, only barely gazing up to Gee. Gerard went pale. "I-i don't think i will survive it in there," He admitted. Patrick nodded harshly. "Of course, do- do you want to go for a walk and hang out with me? Get some fresh air?" Patrick's hands were kneading his thighs nervously through his pocket, trying his best to not stare at Gerard.

"Yeah.." Gerard took a deep breath before they both walked out of the building. keeping some distance, knowing that the slightest touch now would make them shudder. It was quiet. They had nothing to talk about. Patrick breathed in through parted lips, wanting to say something, but closing the again without having said one note. He needn't to ask how Gerard felt. Sure like shit after his almost-panic attack. Gerard was looking at the floor, counting his breaths, trying to keep them in a steady 3 second rhythm. Patrick felt his heart race. He wasn't sure what he was doing. Maybe it was okay that no one pointed out the uncomfortable silence, maybe it made it a little more invisible, but it only made it more obvious.

They sorted out a nice spot on the limited place of grass this school had outside and sat down. They both looked up to the clouded sky in disinterest. There wasn't much to see, except for a gray sky and birds flying by. It was rather cold and not really spring like. Gerard started to rip the grass out of the ground in small portions, with his pointer finger and thumb, before he ripped the grass apart in confetto-like portions he let fall to the ground again. Patrick hated this silence, while Gerard found it rather soothing. He wanted to talk to Gerard, he wanted to speak about silly things, he wanted to hear anything else than the screaming of flying or lost birds and the rush of leaves and branches slapping each other through the wind. It was so loud, but still so quiet. It drove Patrick insane

"Patrick?" Patrick flinched as soon as Gerard broke through the silence, trying to look at Gerard as fast as possible. "Yes?" Gerard kept ripping grass apart. "What if i fall in love with a guy? What if i have to explain my hickies? What if my parents want to meet Her but there is no HER! What if there's a HIM? What the fuck should i do?" Patrick looked back to the floor between his legs. Is he asking because there's a him? Patrick didn't like the thought of someone leaving hickies on Gerard. "Just say that it was a meaningless make out with a girl... invent names if you got to.." Patrick felt his chest tighten. Is there someone? "So..." Patrick began, scratching the back of his neck with hesitation. "Is there a him?" Gerard froze. Why would Patrick come to think that? What a silly thought! "N-No, there is no him..." Patrick nodded slowly. "Do you know someone you'd wish as your him?" Now it made Gerard nervous. "Why are we always talking about my love life? Why aren't we talking about yours for once? Is there a hot chick you'd love to do? Is there a cute girl with big ass and nice curves and whatnot?" Gerard spoke as if he wouldn't feel any attractions towards girls, what would be a lie. Gerard indeed felt enough for girls to sometimes question his pansexuality, but he didn't feel any attraction towards a girl at the time.

"No, there is no girl.." Patrick said, tense and stiff. He didn't like this. Gerard took a deep breath and wanted to apologize, but before he could lay his hand on Patrick's shoulder adn speak, he froze and decided to not touch Patrick. "I'm sorry, i didn't mean to-" "Of course not, it's okay." Gerard dropped his hand and looked back to the grass. His free hand continued to destroy the grass, while Patrick just sighed and ran through his hair. Maybe silence wasn't that bad.

Patrick let his hand fall and it landed directly onto Gerard's what made both freeze in, but only for half a second then they both pulled back quickly enough, a deep blush painting both of their cheeks. "I-I'm-" "F-forget it, it's nohing-" "I-i'm not gay, i-" "i-i know, d-don't worry-" They both saw each other's blushes but tried to ignore them. They both laughed nervously and looked back to whatever wasn't a cute boy.

The bell rang and without saying anything or exchanging a look, they both went back to their classes.

This was stupid. It was nothing, their hands just touched... and it let a lightning free in Patrick's veins, it freed a collection of emotions he thought he had locked away safely. He thought he had thrown the key away to that chamber he hid them in, but apparently, he hadn't thrown wide enough. Patrick noticed that it grew warm enough for the last bit of ice to melt on the lake. Patrick could even leave his winter jacket at home and put on something nicer, something that outlined his figure perfectly. He had lost some weight and he hoped Gerard would notice. It was such a stupid thing to point out, but Patrick was trying his best to seem attractive to Gerard, hoping Gerard would finally show some interest, but on the other hand hoped that Gerard quickly found a girlfriend so his parents would be proud. God, why the fuck did Patrick all of this? Why held he these feelings for a boy? Why couldn't it be a cheerleader? The chances would be the same, or at least he thought. The sun was slowly sinking down the horizon, not only inking the sky in a beautiful shade of warm orange and yellow, but also the icy lake in front of him. The city started to wake up and lights got turned on. It still wasn't nearly as beautiful as Gerard. Patrick exhaled out of his nose in amusement and dropped his face in his hands. Oh god, he couldn't believe his trail of thoughts. He was talking about a boy! Something Patrick had thought wasn't possible for him. But here he was, just hoping to be held by Gerard's strong arms and being kissed by those beautiful lips he dreamed about since middle school.

Patrick knew he had to go home. It wasn't as late as he hoped it'd be, but it was pretty late and he didn't want to miss dinner. His mom made pumpkin squared he just loved so, so much! He could never miss those! He stumbled across the streets of chicago rather lazily, not really wanting to get home, but also not able to wait any longer. Patrick waited for his bus, counting the gums that stuck on the pavement and guessing how old they are. When his bus arrived, he almost didn't want to step in. He wanted to be with Gerard right now, but he also knew he couldn't. Patrick took a seat on the very front, trying to avoid talking to anyone, but the bus was pretty empty anyways.

The streets grew darker and after half an hour and a bus later, Patrick was back home. As soon as he entered the house, he smelled the amazing scent of his mom's cooking, but his ears were filled with quite the opposite. "Should we tell him?" "No. Mom, no. It would kill the kid," "But he should know!" "Mom! No!" Patrick let his bag drop. "Mom? Kevin? I'm home!" Patrick threw his keys into the bowl that stood on a small table next to the door, before he stumbled his shoes off and hung his coat up. Kevin rushed to the front door. "hey, buddy! How was it? Is there still ice on the lake?" Patrick nodded shyly, hesitating to answer at all. "It was.. okay," He added to that. "What were you and mom talking about?" Kevin's smile froze in and something in his eyes changed. "N-nothing," He ran his hand through his hair that was a little lighter than Patrick's, and that clearly needed a fresh cut. Patrick had that habit too, he always did that when he was nervous. "Kevin," Patrick warned. "It's nothing, really. Uhm.. Are you hungry?" Patrick forced a smile on his lips, hoping to not seem to tired or pissed, or curious, before he nodded lightly.

Patrick took a seat on the dining table, his seat on the dining table and waited for his mom to put the food on the table, so he can eat a little and then stuff his mouth with pumpkin squares afterwards. He noticed that his mom was tense. She needed to say something Patrick would clearly not want to hear. "Are you doing alright? How is school?" Patrick's mom asked. Patrick shrugged and put another noodle in his mouth. "I think it's alright. Gerard didn't feel very good yesterday and we got to skip a lesson.  He comes over tomorrow, by the way. We wanted to play some video games." Patrick's mom nodded, looking at her plate, not eating much. Kevin was acting as if nothing was and kept eating like he normally would. Patrick felt sick to the stomach due the tension. When Patrick finished his plate, his mom was smiling again. "Pumpkin squares?" Patrick nodded harshly, finally smiling himself.

Gerard seemed distant in class and even when they sat in the bus, driving to Patrick's, he still seems sunken in thought. His hazel eyes shimmered in the warm light of spring coming up, but his face was as dark and cold as the deepest winter nights. Patrick was worried, but he tried to not show it. He hesitated to touch Gerard at all, since he looked so fragile and as if he didn't sleep. Patrick quickly excused himself by his mom as soon as he came home, telling her that he'd like to go upstairs with Gerard and play some video games. His mom just nodded, looking just as tired and distant as Gerard in the bus. Patrick wasn't sure what was going on but he was sure he was gonna find out soon.

They sat on Patrick's bed. The lights were dim and only the light of the television burned through the dark room. Gerard and Patrick sat close to each other to see the small monitor better. Their thighs touched but they ignored it and tried to not make it seem awkward, but it was. It felt weird. Something was off, Patrick noticed, then Gerard kept losing, even though he was way better at Mario Kart than Patrick. He didn't say anything, though. No one said anything. They kept their mouths shut and just played. Gerard didn't like how it aggressively smelled like Patrick in this room. Patrick didn't smell bad, that wasn't really the point, it was just that Gerard felt his chest tighten the more he thought about telling Patrick. "Can i open a window?" Gerard asked, trying to avoid Patrick's eyes. "Sure.. is something wrong?" Gerard got up and opened Patrick's window, before he let himself fall back into the bed. "I don't-" Gerard stopped, taking a deep breath and trying to unclench his muscles. "No- i mean, i'm fine." Patrick smiled widely. "Do you need a hug?" Gerard smiled back, having to chuckle. "No, i really don't!"

They both went quiet again. They both felt it in their chest, this pulling tension of wanting to be close, but not being able to. "Gee?" Gerard flinched. "Yes?" Patrick looked back to his hands. "Did you find a girlfriend yet?" Gerard couldn't hear it anymore. "Is this the only thing you want to know?" He spat, obviously irritated. Patrick quickly raised to his feet. "I didn't meant to offend you, i-" "No, you just want to find me a girlfriend so i stop whining about my parents, i got it." Patrick wasn't sure how to react. "No, no of course not!" He came closer to his friend, burying his hands deeply in his jeans pockets to not touch Gerard accidentally. Gerard didn't believe him, scoffed and turned away, he avoided Patrick. "Gee, come on.. You know it's not true. You know that i-i love you." Patrick's voice gave up and shook while he said that. He loved Gerard, damn how much he loved him, but not just as a friend and that stung deeply. It left a scar that has never been destined to heal.

"Gee,.." Gerard flinched again. He heard what Patrick said. "I.. i love you." Gerard looked back into Patrick's ocean blue eyes and swore he already heard the waves crashing themselves against the sand on the beach. "I-" Gerard interrupted himself and took a deep breath. He hated to hear this. He hated that Patrick loved him as a friend, he hated how he had to make that clear. "I love you, too." Gerard sighed, even though he meant it differently. Patrick knew Gerard wouldn't understand it, but he also wasn't sure if he wanted Gerard to understand.

Patrick slid closer to Gerard and laid his hand on top of Gerard's tight fist that began to relax. Gerard raised his head and saw how close Patrick was. He could see that tiny bit of yellow around his pupil, what made his eyes look so green, and the way his eyelashes curled upwards in the slightest, his messy, light brown to dark blonde hair that fell right above his eyelid- he saw the most beautiful thing he could have possibly seen on this planet. "You're so pretty, Gee," Patrick almost whispered. He wasn't sure what he was doing, he just knew that he somehow came even closer to Gerard and that their heads leaned closer and their lips brushed and-

"Hey, do you guys want some pumpkin squares?" Gerard and Patrick flinched away. Patrick quickly took his hand away and stood up, facing his mother now and putting on a fake smile. "Yeah- uhm, sure! Gee, you want some pumpkin squares?" Gerard stood up and put on his best smile for Mrs. Stumph. "Sure, why not?" She smiled widely. "Great! come downstairs, we have some left Patrick didn't get to eat yet," She explained. Patrick blushed and followed his mom when she turned around to leave. Gerard followed Patrick, having a great view of his ass while they walked.

The kitchen was warmer than Patrick's room. The chairs were comfortable to sit in and the warm light of the kitchen lamp made the colour of the light brown wooden table stick out even more. Patrick and Gerard kept looking at each other while they ate. Their eyes were focused on each other, their look ship-sunken deep. Gerard wasn't sure if he even blinked during their stare-session. And it sure was the longest they have looked into each other's eyes without laughing. There was nothing to laugh at. There was nothing to talk about. Nothing happened and they promised it with just a look of hesitation and terror.

"Do you like the pumpkin squares?" Gerard nodded slowly, their look still consistent. "They're delicious." Patrick nodded in response.

School was loud and annoying, band practice was exhausting and talking to Gerard- impossible. Patrick sat in Gee's bed, waiting for Gerard to end this hell of a drawing he decided to work on to avoid Patrick. It was obvious that he was ignoring Patrick, when Gerard also started to listen to music. With headphones. "I love you, i love you, i fucking love you, why the fuck is this so fucking complicated?" Patrick whispered, knowing Gerard couldn't hear it. Patrick rose to his feet, accepting that this made no sense. Nothing made sense anymore. Just because Patrick was a coward who couldn't even kiss the boy he liked for so long. Just because Patrick had to fall in love with a guy, that could never love him back. Patrick took Gerard's headphones off, gently removing them and placing them on Gee's shoulders, around his neck. "I'm leaving. I forgot my guitar at Pete's place," Patrick lied. Gerard's eyes seemed sad and slightly disappointed. "Are you coming back later?" Patrick wished he could, damn he wished he could come back and kiss this pretty lips he imagined feeling for so many nights. "N-no, i don't think i can.." Patrick almost felt bad for wanting to leave all of the sudden. "Are you leaving because i'm-" Gerard didn't want to say ignoring or avoiding, but that's what he was doing. "N-no, i-i just-" Patrick stopped in the middle of his excuse when he noticed, that Gerard wasn't buying it. "Why are you avoiding me? Why can't you just talk to me like we used to do? Why are you so distant?" Gerard looked to his lap. They both knew why, but Patrick wanted to hear it. He wanted to know how Gerard felt about the almost kiss. He wanted to know if he had a chance with Gee. He needed to know.

Gerard raised to his feet, looking at the floor as if it was the most interesting thing in this room. He blindly took Patrick's hand and pulled him back to the bed, where Gerard took place next to Patrick. Their hips touched. Gerard felt his heart beat in his throat, it was hard to swallow and he felt like choking on his words that kept him wide eyed under starless skies. He was caught in a thought that kept him hopeless, that made him crazy, that made him sick. "Yesterday.." Gerard began, his voice shaking harder than his hands that were tightly holding onto the sheets of his bed. "...we- we almost... did something, we.." Patrick wanted to stop Gerard from talking but instead, he held his breath in and kept his body stiff in place. "fuck, we almost kissed!" Patrick flinched and closed his eyes, deeply breathing in through his nose. "Gee, we-" "No, shut up, i'm talking!" Patrick re-opened his eyes and looked confused. "What- what happened? i'm- you- What?" Gerard didn't know how he should ask if Patrick had feelings for him. It made Gerard crazy, but he just couldn't ask it. Those words laid on his tongue, are carved into his mouth but his voice can't function to say them out loud. Patrick didn't know what to say and Gerard didn't push it. Patrick leaned closer, actually just wanting Gerar to finally meet his eyes, and when he did, they both froze.

Patrick felt himself lean closer. The urge to touch Gerard was too big, he needed to just- just that one time! Patrick never felt this weightless. His body moved by it's own, causing their lips to meet for a split second that felt so endlessly perfect. They broke away quickly. It was a quick peck, a light lip-bump, but it felt like so much more. Gerard and Patrick were both shocked, but still too close. They were like magnets who wanted to pull each other closer, but they were turned on the wrong side and instead pushed each other away to keep the same distance. They were stiff in place, trying to fight the tension that kept them distant to reconnect their lips, this time for a little longer. It was Gerard who pulled back. Their noses still touched and their eyes were still closed. Patrick laid his hand on Gerard's thigh and slightly parted his lips when he leaned in for a kiss again. This felt weird, almost wrong. It was so unknown, even though they had both kissed endless times before. This was different. Their lips tingled with the desperation of feeling other lips again, their chests were tight with the want to feel another body being pressed against them. Their fingers were itching with the desire to touch each other. Patrick pressed his lips against Gerard's harder this time, cupping his face gently and trying to take as much in as possible- this feeling, his scent, his lips... Gerard Laid both of his hands on the back of Patrick's neck, pulling him closer, but also supporting himself, while he hesitated to straddle Patrick.

In this moment, they knew they went too far and should stop, but they were lost in the feeling of pressed lips and chests and each other's near and warmth. They didn't know what they were doing, what it meant or why they kept going, but it felt so right. Patrick's hands shook when they formed on Gerard's waist, trying to pull him even closer and kiss his lips even harder, trying to melt together with his friend's body and become one. Trying to feel his heart beat in sync with Gerard's, trying to breathe him in and call him his. Trying to feel Gerard curl up against his chest to please his heart that grew more and more desperate for contact. Gerard wished to feel Patrick's lips forever, hoping to never have to detach them ever again. Gerard was drowning in the feeling of Patrick between his legs, pulling his even closer and holding his waist so firmly. They both didn't want to let go but they were still magnets and they just turned back to the same side.

Their lips didn't crash like waves anymore, they didn't fall together like the overlapping waves of stormy seas. They fell apart like a wave dying on dry sand. They moved away like a sinking ship being ripped in two and sinking away from its other half. It hurt to let Gerard back, worrying about this all alone on his bed, but Patrick left anyways, without having said one word. Gerard didn't even try to hold him back. He just started to understand. He understood now. It was crazy, it was awful, it hurt. But he understood. Now he knew why storms were named after people. And just before the storm started, it ended in a loud door that fell into its locker and everything went silent, everything was calm.

Suddenly, Gerard felt this relief of finally being alone, finally thinking about what just happened. Why would Patrick do that? Was he trying to make fun of Gerard? Gerard didn't find the strength to ask more questions as those were already his answers. He laid back and let the silence crush him.

When Patrick stumbled down the stairs of his mom's house, he felt the scent of breakfast tingle in his sleepy senses. He took a seat next to his brother and kinda felt like today was gonna be different. He wasn't thinking about Gerard when he felt like that. Today was gonna be different. Today was gonna be a good day. Patrick grabbed an apple and ate that instead of the egg and bacon his mom made. Today, Patrick will go up to Gerard and not act as if nothing happened between them. He won't hide any longer. This sudden burst of confidence surprised Patrick. He wasn't sure where this was going, but he will use it to talk to Gerard!

Patrick didn't saw Gerard in the bus which was weird. He was also missing at school. Patrick's confidence vanished, disappeared, evaporated. Patrick shouldn't have kissed Gerard, he's missing only because of that, he- he ruined everything! He fucked up! Classes were even more boring without Gerard drawing next to Patrick. Patrick loved to watch him draw. He loved to see all the gay couples Gerard drew, wishing he could have what he drew in real life. Patrick wished that ,too, for Gerard. Patrick sighed and let his head fall to the desk. His heart was beating shyly, tight with the knowledge Gerard didn't go to school because Patrick was an asshole. He tried to ignore the voice in his veins that told him to get up and visit Gerard right now. He tried to fight the urge from running out of class and going over to Gee's. He tried to do the right thing and let him alone.

When Patrick let his backpack fall next to the front door in the corridor of his mom's house, he heard loud crying from the kitchen. It was his mom and knowing that broke his heart into a million pieces. He almost ran into the kitchen, ignoring that he already had sports today and that his body was hurting. "Mom?" Patrick froze when he saw his dad, his mom and his brother sitting by the kitchen table. They all looked crushed and as if they cried earlier. Well, besides Patrick's mom who was still crying.

The room was filled with a tension that held Patrick's lungs in a tight grib. "What.. what are you doing here?" Patrick asked confused. He enjoyed seeing his dad, but he wasn't expecting his visit. "I wanted to see you," He said, smiling gently at his son. Patrick's mom scoffed. "Don't lie to him! Tell him what you want to do!" she got louder. It made kevin and Patrick flinch. "Mom!" Kevin warned, his voice wrecked. "Tell him why you came!" She said as loud as her sentence before. Patrick wasn't understanding. Patrick's dad took a deep breath and looked at Patrick. "Patrick, your mom and i talked about this some time before and we-" He interrupted himself with taking another deep breath, correcting his mistake. "I think... that you should come to live with me." Patrick's eyes drew confusion and anger. "no.." Patrick first whispered. "You would go to a new school, where the kids don't make fun of you, where you get to know new friends, where you can maybe find a girlfriend-" "N-No, i'm not- Mom!" Patrick turned to his mother, asking for help she couldn't hand him. "I can't afford a lawyer, Patrick. I can't demand you to stay here. Also, your father just wants the best for you.. i'm sure it won't be that bad." Patrick didn't believe her fake smile, and the wrong hope in her voice, as if she was trying to tell Patrick that everything was going to be alright while stabbing him in the back.

Patrick knew he couldn't do anything against his dad's word. "I hate you... why do you want to take my life away? My friends, my school, my home, Gerard!" Patrick felt his eyes sting and he tried his best to not shed any tears. "You can visit Gerard-" "I don't want to visit him, dad! I want to be with him! I want to stay here and see him everyday! I want to sleep at his place when he gets a new video game, i want to go over to him to watch him draw and to take a nap with him! I don't want to replace him with some chick i don't care about!!" Patrick now wiped his sweater over his eyes to not show the tears that were about to fall over his cheeks. "I understand that you're upset about leaving and going to a new school, but you can't change it. You will come with me." Patrick's dad sounded so stern and angry all of the sudden. Patrick yelled a last "I hate you!" Before he ran out of the house, down the street, not knowing where he went, just hoping that he took the right way. He ran and ran and felt his muscles hurt, his lungs sting with the dry afternoon in the air and his sight blurr out from all the tears. He can't leave Gerard. He can't move away and leave him! Patrick felt as if he was drowning, as if he was in the middle of the ocean while it's storming and the huge waves and throwing him against the riffs, against stones, cliffs, as if he was completely under control of this sea of emotion that is abusing his mind. Patrick felt as if he woke up on the wrong side of reality. This was unreal, this is just a dream! he kept telling himself over and over again.

Patrick felt his knees go weak but he kept running, he kept running away from his parents, from his responsibilities, from admitting Gerard that he's in love with him, with admitting himself that he's not straight- everything came crashing down, all at once and Patrick didn't know how to stop it. He wanted this all to just stop, he wanted the world to stop turning, he wanted to stop his heart from beating! This was too much. Patrick fell to his knees and panted hardly. Sweat was running down his face, mixed with tears dropping off his jaw onto to hot pavement. He felt like fainting. His head was spinning, but he wasn't far from his destination. He was only a couple of blocks away, he just had to get up and keep running, but his legs were too weak. He pulled the collar of his shirt up to wipe his face with it before he adjusted to sit on the side of the pavement.

He watched the cars drive by, throwing rocks onto the streets while they were passing by, ignoring the swearing from drivers who had obviously no chill. Patrick wasn't sure what he was doing at this point. He should have taken the bus instead of running half a mile without a break. He got up and stood weak on his knees. he kept walking and wiping his face. He hated how hot it suddenly got. It was an unusual day for Chicago. It wasn't windy at all and there wasn't even a single cloud that could have guaranteed rain. The sky was just as blank as Patrick's mind. He was done, he wanted to give up, end this all- but first he had to talk to Gerard. The so well known oak wood of Gerard's front door seemed like home to Patrick. Man, how much he'd miss to go through this door. He raised his heavy arm and forced himself to knock, having to whimper quietly of the burn in his triceps. Gerard opened the door, giving Patrick a look of confusion. "What are you- did you run? Are you crying?" Gerard couldn't decide on what to ask first, growing more and more concerned about Patrick. "I-i have to move to my dad," Patrick said, voice stained with tears. Gerard didn't say anything. He just stood there, looking at Patrick with red eyes, hoping Patrick was kidding, hoping this wasn't true. "I don't want to go." Patrick's voice shook. He didn't want to cry, but he couldn't help it. Gerard swallowed hardly and pulled Patrick into a hug, ignoring that he was sweaty. "I-i don't want to leave you," Patrick sobbed into Gerard's shirt, what made the tears rise in Gerard's eyes and bury his head in Patrick's shoulder. He tried so god damn hard, but he couldn't hold his sobbs back.

Patrick's dad would pick Patrick up in two weeks, what gave Gerard and Patrick only two more weeks of seeing each other daily. They didn't know what to do, how to spend time together in a way it was worth it. Their parents allowed them to have sleepovers even though they had to go to school. Patrick often laid awake, wishing to cuddle with Gerard, wishing to have him lay in his arms. He had to fight the urge to explore the dark to sneak onto Gerard's side. He wanted to sleep next to the person he loved, but a good two feet separated them from each other.

Gerard wasn't sure if he was gonna survive the time without Patrick. Patrick was the only one at school who didn't ignore Gerard. Who didn't act as if Geard was invisible. Patrick was the reason Gerard stopped stealing his dad's alcohol. How much he wished to feel Patrick's warmth again. His lips, sweeter than his scent of honey and strawberries, the feeling of the, holding on so tightly, onto Gerard, not wanting to ever let him go... This was kept unspoken. Gerard didn't know why he told himself that this kiss meant something to Patrick. It was a mistake. It wasn't supposed to happen. How much he wished to explore the dark to feel the warmth of Patrick's body...

One night, their last night, they both couldn't sleep. They knew what was coming. They knew this would change them forever. Their lips colliding like cars, with a strength, with passion and desire, that it made the darkness fade. It stood unspoken in the room, not knowing what it meant for them. Their teeth met, what made them blush, but they ignored it and kept kissing. Patrick was trying his best to not think about the next morning, he just wanted to focus on Gerard's lips, those perfectly, warm lips, that felt so rough and scratchy, but just in the right way. Patrick loved the feeling of Gerard pushing himself closer, wanting to have more.

Gerard's hand cupped Patrick's jaw, before it gently fell to Patrick's thigh. Patrick shivered, feeling his muscles unclench as he let the touch happen. Patrick was being rocked into some sort of trance, lost in Gerard's kisses, lost in the taste of his tongue and little sighs. Gerard's hand cupped Patrick's crotch, gently pressing down onto it. Patrick flinched and groaned surprised. He pulled back from the kiss, holding Gerard's waist a little tighter to make sure he would stay there. He couldn't see Gerard, even though he wished he could. "Gee, what are you doing?" The warm palm of Gerard's hand pressed back against Patrick's dick, before he straddled Patrick. "I will miss you, Trick," He whispered hotly, as softly as the wind whispers sweet thoughts. "I want to show you how much i'd miss you." Gerard's hands tightened in the collar of Patrick's purple Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle shirt, and pulled Patrick forward into another kiss.

It drove Patrick crazy, the way Gerard's hips moved, the warmth of his body and the feeling of having him. They were just two 16 year old boys, desperate for each other's lips, desperate for their best friend they wished was more. The breaths they shared, the kisses that stained their skin like bruises, and the nails they digged into soft thighs and arched backs, all that would get forgotten the moment they stopped. The mess on Gerard's sheets, the scent of Patrick they held, all that would get denied and ignored. They were holding onto each other so tightly, afraid if they'd let go, they'd fade and disappear in the hot and dark room. Gerard wanted this moment to last forever, wanted to smell Patrick's scent forever while he felt Patrick's arms being wrapped so tightly around him. Patrick was drifting off into sleep, but Gerard couldn't sleep. He kept his head pressed against Patrick's chest while he drew circles with his middle finger on Patrick's bare hip. He wanted this to last, he wanted to fall asleep like that every night. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply, breathing in the scent of their combined bodies and their used sheets. "I love you, Patrick," He whispered. Gerard doesn't think he'd miss Patrick more than obvious, mostly because he can't miss something he never had.

Patrick hated school, hated living with his dad and hated having to act as if Gerard isn't the only reason he wanted to stay with his mom and his brother. After school, Patrick always ran upstairs into his room and locked the door. His dad always thought he did that because of his teenager boy needs of staying alone, but that wasn't the reason at all. He always called Gerard and phoned with him until they fell asleep on the phone. "How was your day?" Patrick asked, happy to hear Gerard's voice again.

"Pretty okay, i got my chemistry test back and.. well, i got an B+, probably my best grade this year." Patrick smiled widely. "Hey, that's great! We should celebrate that next weekend when i come to visit you." Gerard now chuckled. "I can steal my dad's cheap champagne?" There was nothing Patrick loved more than drinking cheap champagne with Gerard. "Sounds awesome." There was a pause. Patrick wasn't sure if Gerard went and already got the champagne, or if Gerard was thinking about something. "Patrick?" "Yes?" "I'm dating Rebecca now." Patrick forced himself to smile, while tears filled his vision. "I'm glad you found someone." Gerard sighed what made Patrick shiver. "I don't love her." Patrick sniffled and wiped his tears away. "i know."

Patrick let himself fall onto his bed gently, closing his eyes and trying to focus on the silence in Wilmette he could hear through the phone. "I love you," Gerard admitted, what made Patrick smile again and sigh. "Yeah, i love you, too.." This time, they knew it. They knew it wasn't a 'I love you' between friends.

They finally understood and just as they thought the storm was at its loudest, it calmed down and the waters were silent.

[thedreadvampy]

hold me I just saw a Steven Moffat appreciation post crediting him with writing women well

FUCKING

HELP

(ps if you’re gonna talk about laying the ground work for a female doctor by letting female characters take a Doctor-like narrative role how about we talk about Rose ‘one-with-the-time-vortex’ Tyler, Martha ‘saved the world and the doctor twice where the doctor failed’ Jones (the Family of Blood and the Year that Never Was) and Donna ‘was literally the Doctor for one episode’ Noble instead of River ‘my existence literally revolves around the doctor’ Song, Madame ‘let me tell you how great the doctor is’ Vastra, Clara ‘my existence also literally revolves around the doctor’ Oswald and Amy ‘guess what my existence is ALSO inextricably tied up in the Doctor’ Pond)

(that’s before you even get me started on Old Who because if THAT’S what we count as fulfilling the narrative role of the Doctor then Susan Romana Tegan Sarah Jane to name but a few)

(there are TWO THINGS I will credit Moffat’s run with in ‘laying the groundwork’ for a female Doctor and those are the Corsair proving that Time Lords canonically have no fixed gender (and that was written by Neil Gaiman in an episode originally intended for Ten, so before Moffat’s run) and the Master regenerating as a woman - I REFUSE to call her Missy, because how dare you, Master and Mistress have VERY different connotations, and that’s exactly why I will not countenance the idea that Moffat is the Top Female Doctor Man, because he can’t even call her by her fucking name without aggressively gendering it. Moffat’s Who is so utterly locked into Gender Is Set In Stone even as he’s trying to spin it as gender neutral because he simply cannot imagine two people interacting in a way that isn’t informed by their gender. He wants me to believe in a Gallifreyan society where gender is fluid generation to generation but he can’t stop making everyone make deeply gendered assumptions about each other, and he can’t stop making the Doctor react in VERY gendered ways to women, and women react in very gendered ways to men and to each other. You can’t come in and tell me you’re trying to set the stage for a less rigidly gendered approach while slamming your out-of-date gender politics repeatedly in my face.)

(oh fuck I forgot maisie william’s character. I guess if you’re talking about women occupying a doctor-shaped narrative space she’s got to come up but she was crap and boring so my brain blanked her out. what was even her name I forget. I wanted to like her, just like I wanted to like river, but I literally never managed to find either more than barely tolerable)

(p.s. don’t even mention the Curse of Fatal Death. yes it had a female doctor but the joke WAS that the CONCEPT of a female doctor was funny. and also that if she was a girl she’d want to bone the master. I’m not saying it was a bad sketch bc it wasn’t, I like it a lot, but it WAS very The Early 2000s and it is weird to me to see people behave as if it was unironically progressive.)

[minijenn]

Have you posted the notes for Society of the blindeye?

Oh shit I forgot! Thanks for reminding me, they’re under the cut!

• Start off pretty much just like the episode, with Lazy Susan happening across a group of gnomes; as she panics, however, she’s whisked away by a mysterious group of robed figures, thus giving us our vague, ominous introduction to the society • After the open, cut to the shack, where the kids have congregated to try and work out the mystery of the author of the journal; make this bit a little longer as they compile together all the clues thus far and have some interactions • In the midst of this though, Mabel mourns over how all of her summer crushes have failed thus far after receiving a letter from Mermando; her disappointment only grows as she notices some lowkey romantic hints between Steven and Connie (make this mostly through introspection though), further hinting at her crush on Steven (be somewhat subtle about this) • Somewhere in this, the kids happen to notice an insignia on the broken laptop reading “McGucket labs”; while initially baffled by this, they eventually surmise that there’s a high chance that Old Man McGucket could possibly be the author himself (side note) Be sure to mention in here how, with the laptop now broken, Dipper lowkey thinks that finding the author could very well lead to saving Lapis (though he doesn’t really say it out loud)  (side note) Try to throw in some hints of angst for Steven in this opening with some reflection back upon stuff like Jailbreak and Sock Opera, hence opening up his desire later on to want to absolve his friends of those painful memories

• Cut downstairs to have a bit of humor between Soos and Wendy, with Wendy’s frustration over the song “Straight Blanchin’”; after a bit of this, the kids rush by and recruit the pair to go with them to peruse their newfound evidence • Their first stop is by the temple of course, to see if their theory on McGucket being the author matches up with what the Gems know; initially, Pearl and Amethyst staunchly deny the possibility that McGucket could be the author, but Garnet isn’t so quick to judge and instead purposes they follow this lead (imply that she remembers something about McGucket’s involvement, though she can’t pin down exactly what) • And so the kids set off with the Gems to the junkyard where they encounter McGucket, and at first make this rather silly, as expected until the kids start to present him with the evidence they found about him possibly being the author • McGucket fretfully repels such claims however, saying that his memory’s been all but gone since 1982 (maybe give the Gems a bit of a reaction here, with them not really believing him, thinking he’s putting on an act, ect), however, upon seeing a certain page in the journal, his memory is jogged on the blind eyeSide note: Be sure to include regular interactions between McGucket and the Gems in here, make these funny but also kinda awkward • Thinking that this could be the key to uncovering the truth, everyone sets out again, following the clues to the museum (maybe have more B plot stuff in here, with Wendy and Soos, as well as Steven, Connie and Mabel) • As they arrive at the museum, include a bit in here with just the Gems as they make their resolve to uncover the truth about the gaps existing between them and the author, in the hopes of finally making sense of it all • After some initial investigation, the group eventually happens upon an entrance to an underground hideaway (be descriptive, ominous, ect); as they explore more, they eavesdrop on a meeting of the Society of the Blind Eye, where the cult shows off their purpose by erasing Lazy Susan’s memory of the gnomes with a memory erasing gun (make this kinda dramatic) • As the meeting ends, the group heads in to investigate further; show everyone’s reactions to the society, as well as the memory erasing gun; in here, drop several implications, including the possibility that the society might have erased McGucket’s memories, as well as the Gems’ (though the Gems are somewhat doubtful of this) • Also drop the first hints in here of Steven possibly seeing this as a way to kind of “undo” all of the bad things that have happened over the past few weeks, at least for himself, Dipper, Mabel, and Connie; he keeps this thought in the back of his mind for now though, unsure of if he’s going to act upon it • And so from here, the group decides to split up; Mabel, Connie, and Wendy stay behind in the meeting hall; Dipper, Steven, Soos, and McGucket head off to the hall of the forgotten, while the Gems decide to try and track down society members themselves for answers • From here, cut to the Gems as they investigate the society’s headquarters further, eventually happening upon a room filled with old newspaper clippings on Gem happenings; in this part, they discuss why the society might be erasing the towns’ memory of Gem stuff, worrying if its all their fault for putting Gravity Falls in so much frequent danger, ect • In this, they also nervously question why, if the society really did erase their memories, why it would only be of the author and nothing else (maybe have some callbacks to Into the Bunker here); they theorize whether or not Rose still had such memories, and question that, if she did, why wouldn’t she have told them about any of this (make this filled with implications, foreshadowing, introspection) • Back in the meeting hall, have some interactions between the girls until Connie splits off a bit upon hearing a noise in the distance; while she’s gone, Mabel discusses her romance woes with Wendy, in the process accidentally revealing her crush on Steven (to herself as well as Wendy) • Wendy is understanding, of course, and reassures her, telling her to just forget about guys, which gives Mabel the idea to use the memory gun to forget about her summer romances, as well as her crush on Steven • The guys come across the hall  and discover all of the memory tubes; they watch a few and learn that the society erases the towns’ memory whenever anything supernatural or magical happens (including the hand ship invasion, which explains why no one in town has really talked about it since it happened) (maybe include a few examples) • In this, Steven notices another memory gun lying nearby and decides to take it for the time being, still unsure about his plan, but becoming slightly more convinced upon remembering just how rough things were for Dipper in particular following Sock Opera (though he doesn’t follow through quite yet out of nerves) • McGucket finds his memory tube, though as he retrieves it, it sets off an alarm that alerts the society members to their presence; while McGucket manages to hide, a chase ensues; while the boys manage to seemingly give the society the slip, Steven impulsively holds Dipper back a bit, knowing that its now or never • Steven anxiously unveils the memory gun he nabbed and suggests that he use it to get rid of all their bad memories of the past few weeks, starting with Dipper’s; naturally, Dipper’s opposed to this, so make this kind of an argument in that Steven only wants to do this to help them all (though he’s still clearly conflicted about it) (generally just make this scene pretty tense) Side note: Maybe have Dipper reference what they all learned in Do It For Them here and how Steven’s going against that, but Steven refutes this by claiming its what’s best for everyone (have him be kinda on the verge of a guilt ridden breakdown with this)  • Before Steven can pull the trigger however, Connie stumbles upon them (reuse down below) and is shocked of course, by what is happening; before Steven can explain, however, the society members find them and apprehend all three of the kids • Somewhere in here (doesn’t have to be right here , have a bit with just McGucket as he panics, wanting to help the others but not really knowing what to do; as he tries to focus, he eventually decides to find the Gems • He does so, and make this rather stilted as the Gems are still doubtful of McGucket telling the truth about his lost memories and openly accuse him of lying about what he knows; however, he manages to convince them that he’s clueless by actually mentioning that he does remember a few things about them and Rose, he just doesn’t know why or how • The Gems finally relent, somewhat guilty for their cold treatment of McGucket (have them note there’s also some familiarity there and that they want to get to the bottom of it all together) as they set out to go rescue the kids • As they’re taken to the meeting room, they find that the others (save for the Gems and McGucket) have all been captured as well; here, they finally learn about the purpose of the Society of the Blind Eye, a group meant to absolve Gravity Falls of its woes about the supernatural by erasing their memories of it • In this, the society members also unmask themselves as regular townsfolk themselves (include some SU characters in here), and the cult leader, Blind Ivan introduces himself and voices his intention on making the kids forget about the society and the events of the summer completelySide note: Incorporate the idea somewhere in here on how its wrong for the Society to decide what memories people should keep and which ones they shouldn’t; as well as the importance of memory in general • In this, the kids panic of course, though there’s also a good bit of argument specifically between Dipper, Connie, and Steven about what almost happened with the other memory gun, though he isn’t really able to say much in his defense out of guilt • Before Blind Ivan can use the gun on the kids, however, McGucket and the Gems arrive to save them; a short scuffle ensues, so make this kinda funny but also kinda epic as the gang fights off the society membersSide note: Be sure to have a bit of confrontational dialogue between Ivan and the Gems, as he points out that the society is saving the town from their disasters (and his intentions to wipe the towns’ memory of them completely)  • McGucket ends up ultimately saving the day, however, by taking a memory blast meant for the kids; it doesn’t work on him though, seeing as how his mind has already been erased so many times over that he’s practically immune to it • With Ivan and the society defeated and restrained, the Gems demand to know if they have their memory tubes, only for the society members to all deny knowing anything about them; while the Gems contest this, Garnet affirms that this is true and that their memories, if they had ever even been erased at all, are still lost for now (show that they’re not going to stop looking for the truth though) • After this, the kids erase the society’s memories of the organization and send them off (have some humor in this) • From here, everyone watches McGucket’s memories as they learn that he used to be an inventor who worked alongside the author and the Gems before quitting the project they were working on; haunted by the knowledge he had gained, he built a device to help forget it all and at first it was a success as he formed the Society of the Blind Eye; as time went on however and he used the memory gun more frequently, his mind started to disappear until he went completely insaneSide note: Try to imply more here, look to journal 3 if you have to; mention the Gems (all four of them) specifically here • Of course, everyone is very sympathetic towards McGucket, especially the Gems as they realize they might have had a part in all this, even if they don’t remember what that part was; all the same, have some heartwarming vibes in here as McGucket resolves to start remembering instead of trying to forget and he wishes that the Gems will be able to do the same • Upon seeing this example, Steven apologizes to Dipper and Connie about what he almost did with the memory gun, admitting that he was wrong for wanting to rip their memories away from them and that they should continue to heal from the pain of the past in a natural way, learning from it instead of trying to forget it all Side note: Include themes in here on the importance and memory and how memory is a right that shouldn’t be taken away by anyone without consent (a lesson intended mostly for Steven)  • At the same time, Mabel also admits that it was wrong of her to want to forget about her summer crushes (though hint that she’s still got it bad for Steven, but that she’ll just have to deal with those feelings as they come) and cap this part off with some fun fluffiness between everyone • On the ride home, Dipper asks McGucket if he can recall anything about the author himself (something that the Gems join in on), and he notes that its all familiar but he can’t recall just yet • On this, smoothly transition to Stan as he continues working on the portal, noting his good fortune at the Gems not being able to remember anything about it; aside from that, play this part pretty straight to the episode and let it be the chapter’s end as Stan asserts that nothing can stand in his way of achieving this goal (make this momentous, dramatic, buildup towards NWHS)

[the-master-cylinder]

SUMMARY Anglers from the fishing village of Noyo, California catch what appears to be a monster. The young son of one of the anglers falls into the water and something unseen drags him under the surface. Another angler prepares a flare gun but he slips and accidentally fires it into the deck, which is soaked with gasoline dropped earlier by the boy. The vessel bursts into flames and explodes; everybody aboard is killed. Jim Hill (McClure) and his wife Carol witness the explosion. Later, Jim and Carol’s dog goes missing and the pair finds its dismembered corpse on the nearby beach.

The following day, teenagers Jerry Potter (Meegan King) and Peggy Larson (Lynn Schiller) go for a swim at the beach. Jerry is abruptly pulled under the water. Peggy believes it is a prank until she discovers his mutilated corpse. Peggy screams and tries to reach the beach but a monstrous figure drags her across the sand. The humanoid creature tears off her bikini and rapes her.

That night, two more teenagers are camping on the same beach. Billy (David Strassman) is about to have sex with his girlfriend, Becky (Lisa Glaser) when another humanoid monster claws its way inside, kills him and chases Becky onto the beach. She outruns her assailant but then runs into the arms of yet another monster, which throws her to the sand and rapes her. More attacks follow; not all of them successful, but few witnesses survive to tell the public about the incidents; only Peggy is found alive, though severely traumatized. Jim’s brother is also attacked, prompting Jim to take a personal interest in the matter.

A company called Canco has announced plans to build a huge cannery near Noyo. The murderous, sex-hungry mutations are apparently the result of Canco’s experiments with a growth hormone they had earlier administered to salmon. The salmon escaped from Canco’s laboratory into the ocean during a storm and were eaten by large fish that then mutated into the brutal, depraved humanoids that have begun to terrorize the village.

By the time Jim and Canco scientist Dr. Susan Drake (Turkel) have deduced what is occurring, the village’s annual festival has begun. At the festival, many humanoids appear, murdering the men and raping every woman they can grab. Jim devises a plan to stop the humanoids by pumping gasoline into the bay and setting it on fire, cutting off the humanoids’ way of retreat. Meanwhile, Carol is attacked at home by two of the creatures, but manages to kill them before Jim arrives.

The morning after the festival, normality seems to have returned to the village. Jim asks the sheriff about Dr. Drake. The sheriff mumbles that she went back to the lab, where she is coaching a pregnant Peggy, who has survived her sexual assault. Peggy is about to give birth when her monstrous offspring bursts from her womb, with Peggy screaming at the screeching baby.

PRODUCTION The 1980 release from Roger Corman’s New World Pictures has become infamous (and popular) for its mutant/beach bunny interaction and its shocking climactic variation on Alien’s chestburster. And amazingly enough, the notorious feature was directed by a woman! Although she has done many movies, Barbara Peeters knows what her legacy is. “I’m the mother of the Humanoids from the Deep,” she laughs. “No matter what I do, that damn movie haunts my ass!”

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The Iowa-born Peeters is a founding mother of the modern B-movie. While women were denied directing gigs at major studios, the dynamic Peeters was helming drive-in fare with feminist messages. Before Humanoids from the Deep, she did the girlbiker flick Bury Me an Angel (1972) and the sex comedies Summer School Teachers (1975). “It didn’t matter if it was a prison, biker or horror flick, because I would always manage to get my thinking in somewhere, even if it was just a comment,” she recalls. “When I did Humanoids, though, I was not a horror fan. I literally did it because I needed a job. As a kid, I thought Creature from the Black Lagoon was the scariest movie ever made. I looked at it before I started, and used whatever worked!”

Peeters recalls that she came onto Humanoids late; all of Corman’s boys turned it down, even Joe Dante and Roger finally offered it to me. Of course, I took it. After all, how many girl directors got offered a movie in those days?” She also faced a personal crisis: “I had been diagnosed with cancer, so it was important I show the industry I could still work.

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“It was a rough shoot,” she continues. “I believe that’s why the guys turned it down! No sleep, shooting all night on water. I worked in a wetsuit, which is funny because I can’t swim. We put the camera on a barge, got our wide shots. When it was time to shoot close-ups, the tide came in! It was a constant battle with the elements; the water was so choppy, we gave $5 to the first person to throw up. We found the location in June: Fort Bragg. When we went back to shoot, it was Thanksgiving, so the girls froze! I walked into ocean blowholes to find caves for our monsters.”

“I remember freezing,” says Turkel. “If you look at the boat scenes, I’m wearing a swimsuit while Doug’s in a sweater. I loved doing the monster autopsy, because I got to wear a nice warm lab coat!”

Actress/model Turkel had previously appeared in films like 1977’s thriller The Cassandra Crossing and the 1979 sci-fi actioner Ravagers (1979), while McClure was a ’50s cowboy star who had starred in ’70s cheese such as At the Earth’s Core, The Land That Time Forgot and Warlords of Atlantis. He once claimed Humanoids had a different title when he agreed to star in it.

“That’s true,” Turkel says. “When I got the script, it was called Beneath the Darkness, an interesting horror-thriller like Alien. Imagine how I felt when they changed it! Friends teased me when TV ads announced ‘Humanoids from the Deep, starring Ann Turkel!’”

As for veteran actor Morrow, “I loved him,” Peeters says. “I admired him in The Blackboard Jungle. His daughter visited during the shoot and hung out on set. Nice family; he died two years later. But we knew from the shoot that Vic was the clumsiest man on two feet. He never did his own stunts; Vic couldn’t walk and chew gum—he was the first one to tell you that. He really struggled in our fight scenes, and Doug McClure got Vic through those. Doug was a stuntman who could do anything; we choreographed our parking-lot brawl around him. We kept Vic in back, although he got to kick a guy in the stomach—he liked that!”

McClure, however, “was a funny drunk,” Peeters fondly recalls. “We had to ration his booze through the day. I had a PA keep an eye on him. We had to let him have a beer every couple of hours, because he was an alcoholic, and Vic was right there with him! Vic got cranky on booze and Doug got cranky sober, so we had to monitor them and make sure one got enough and neither got too much.”

Turkel “was nice,” Peeters says. “We probably should have done a nude scene with Ann-she was gorgeous! She was a Ford model in New York before she became an actress and married Richard Harris. She looked great in a swimsuit, too.” And the actress soldiered on through Humanoids even as she was going through an upsetting drama in real life. “Richard told Ann he was divorcing her right in the middle of filming. I can’t tell you how much I appreciated that,” Peeters says sarcastically. “God bless her; Annie fell apart for 24 hours and then pulled herself together and did it. We were very tight; she’s a sweet girl.”

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“That was difficult,” Turkel admits, “but I wasn’t gonna let it affect my performance with all Barbara was going through, I wanted to help her as much as I could.”

The mutant fishmen show a complete lack of political correctness throughout Humanoids. Besides reckless sexual behavior, they also bump off children and dogs! “I didn’t mind killing the kid, murdering men and raping women, but I couldn’t bear to see dogs dead,” Peeters says cheerfully. “I left the set when the dogs were lying on the dock. They weren’t really dead, of course, but as a dog lover, I couldn’t bear to see them like that.”

SPECIAL EFFECTS The Humanoids are impressive brutes, equal parts Alien and ’50s critters like The Gill Man. With their exposed brains, mouths full of serrated teeth and nubby tails, they’re truly disturbing, resembling H.P. Lovecraft’s Deep Ones and sharing their lust for human women.

“On set, we called them ‘Noids,’” Peeters reveals. “When I read the script, I got to the part where it said, ‘Thousands and thousands of Humanoids emerge from the ocean…’ I asked Roger, ‘How are you planning on doing that?’ and he said ‘That’s your job!’ I believe we had two full bodied Humanoids, and the others were parts. I would hide how few we had with a flash of an arm, with one really close-up and another running way in the background. Sometimes I used mirrors! For the finale, I had Humanoids on a merry-go-round with mirrors, so I had the same one run back and forth in front of it. That meant you would see him in the foreground, but also see his reflection and think you were seeing two. We used pieces to create a third and another half in frame choking someone, so you got the sense that there was an army of Humanoids. It was a mathematical problem; I felt like Jesus with the loaves and fishes.

“Those monsters were invented by Rob Bottin, who we called “Robin’ back then,” the director recalls of the artist who would soon break out with his landmark work on The Howling and The Thing. “Robin was still a young boy

very serious about his monsters! Everything with him was dramatic and passionate. He broke down crying one day, I don’t remember why, but I thought, “Oh my God!’ It reminded me how young he was. Rob had a great team of guys, talented and hard-working. [Stuntman] Diamond Farnsworth was my ‘Noid who took the most abuse; he was terrific. I loved my ‘Noids.”

“I actually played a Humanoid,” Bottin laughs. “Several of my guys did also. I had the crew come to my place in El Monte, rather than go all the way down to Corman’s studio in Venice about 40 miles away, so we could do an effect in my garage. I thought I was smart, but I didn’t realize that while I was showing them the gag in my garage, Roger had them move my furniture onto the front lawn to shoot a scene in my living room!” As for working in the Pacific in a bulky Humanoid suit, “I kept telling the crew to be on the lookout for a hapless drowning whale-it would have to be me!”

Fellow Humanoid Steve Johnson, who also went on to an illustrious FX career, remembers that being an undersea mutant was no picnic. “Those suits were impossible to get into and out of,” he says. “Once you put on that costume, you were in it for the night. As a Humanoid, you had a tail made up of a series of hinges, so you could not sit down because that tail was incredibly uncomfortable. They also had extended arms, made by Chris Walas. We covered them with hemp fiber as seaweed, to hide the foam and joints, because nothing was finished! We were shooting all night, and making stuff up as we shot.

“Barbara Peeters thought I was the best Humanoid when it came to taking hits,” Johnson proudly continues. “Any time a Humanoid was shot, that was usually me all squibbed up. I raped one of the girls and doubled a male victim after he was mauled, because he didn’t want to wear all the prosthetics when his face is ripped off.” “Steve was great—a hardworking Humanoid, bless his heart,” Peeters adds.

“I had two great joys making the film,” Johnson says. “In one, a Humanoid gets a crowbar in the brain. Since I made the head, I said I would do it, because everyone else was afraid to; we had one head, so it had to be one take. I was nervous, but I knew where and how hard to hit it.

“Then I saw the funniest thing I have seen in my entire career: Bottin, in full Humanoid suit, with those ridiculously long arm extensions. Once you were suited up, you couldn’t even stand without help! With his tail on, he couldn’t sit, and he had those extensions he couldn’t take off, so he could not do anything with his hands—and they wouldn’t get to the shot. That always happens on movie sets, but he had been suited up for three hours as we filmed on a dock.

“Finally, Rob just blew up-screaming and yelling at the entire production team while wearing this Humanoid suit!” Johnson laughs. “He was gesturing with these big arms, wearing the monster head-it was the funniest thing I have ever seen.”

Also part of the Humanoids monster crew was Kenny Myers, “I was a makeup artist for Rob, but I did a bit of everything, including taking care of the guys in the suits,” he recalls. “I think my name is misspelled in the credits! I helped sew together the original Humanoid suit, which took eight hours, and we actually sewed the guy into the outfit, because the pieces hadn’t been assembled yet. Shawn McEnroe and I sewed all these rubber pieces on by hand.

“Rob, Steve and their crew had just finished Tanya’s Island, and were completely burned out,” Myers continues. “The guys were walking zombies, so Rob brought me in for fresh blood. We never got a Humanoids script, so we never knew what was coming at us until the day before. Things like the dead dog on the beach? We literally threw clay onto a board and sculpted it! We used foam and hair to make that dog; almost everything was done in a day.”

How did Humanoids from the Deep come about?

Roger Corman: Much like with Piranha, someone had brought me the screenplay for Humanoids- I can’t remember who—and I had it rewritten and we made it simply because I liked the story. It was unusual, actually, that both pictures came from outside sources, because more often than not, all the ideas for our films came from me.

Humanoids is full of sex, nudity and sexual violence. Having a woman Barbara Peeters, direct it was unusual. Did you hire a woman because the subject matter was potentially volatile?

Roger Corman: No, I brought Barbara on board because she was a good director.

Did you tangle with the ratings board at all with this film?

Roger Corman: On Humanoids, we stayed within the boundaries of the R rating, and had no problem getting it. If I remember correctly, we had to cut very little, if any. thing. When I talked to Barbara about the movie PIRANHA initially, I told her that the premise was very simple: the Humanoids rape the women and they kill the men. And she said, “OK, got it,’ and that’s what she did!

Being a Humanoid victim was not easy, according to actor Greg Travis, who plays KFISH DJ Mike Michaels at the film’s end. “It was my first movie I was 19, and a Humanoid rips my chest off,” says Travis. “I’m with my girl sidekick, Miss Salmon (Linda Shayne), as the monsters attack. I’m caught between a Humanoid and Miss Salmon, so he kills me. They put a prosthetic across my chest, so when he claws me, my chest falls off, blood squirts and I spasm.

“The monsters were creepy, though they were never quite as scary up close as they are on film because of lighting,” Travis notes. “Linda was uptight because she had to get topless. I was gonna do a hand move pretending to touch her chest like a dial, but she got bent out of shape and wouldn’t do it. I did get to put a K-FISH sticker on a girl’s butt, though.”

The actor recalls that a good deal of improv went into the experience: “There was a DJ in the script, but I ad-libbed most of my dialogue. As I was a stand-up comic, they liked what I did. My roommate David Strassman was also in it, with his dummy, Chuck Wood. He’s the ventriloquist with the girl. He plays Vegas now. We always laugh about being killed by Humanoids from the Deep!

“We did pickup shots all night in Malibu,” he continues. “I bought a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken on my way down. The crew laughed at me: “You don’t need that; we have craft services bringing a big dinner!’ But their truck couldn’t find the location, so my chicken was all they had.

They loved me, man. Especially Rob Bottin, he and I ate KFC all night.” In the midst of the mayhem, Peeters includes a disturbing moment where a Humanoid pulls a little girl away for mating purposes. “I liked that because it was unsettling,” she says. “There’s another shot of people screaming and running around a crying baby. I got that from Sam Peckinpah, who said, ‘You don’t realize you’re in danger until you see children in danger.'”

Her favorite scene, however, “is when McClure’s wife, played by Cindy Weintraub, is home alone with their baby. You see a shadow on the wall as Humanoids attack. You can never get a baby to cry on cue, but he started screaming on his own. I thought that sequence was scary, as the monster hand comes through the door. You go ‘Oh shit!’ as Cindy grabs the knife. That low angle of the hand really worked. We also did a cool close-up across the room-you see the fire and a slow pan across the Fisher Stereo to Cindy. We included that shot because Fisher said if I did it, I could have the unit. I always loved freebies!”

In Humanoids’ crowd-pleasing climax, Dr. Drake discovers that Humanoid rape victim Peggy (Lynn Theel) is pregnant. She suddenly realizes this isn’t a normal pregnancy (first clue: Peggy got pregnant in a day!), and the poor girl’s stomach explodes as she gives birth to a baby creature. “We shot the monster birth at a community hospital in Fort Bragg,” Peeters recalls.

“Rob made it all happen; it was an elaborate scene he pulled off. One guy pumped blood while another Kenny—was under the table pushing the baby through; it was hilarious. Annie saying, ‘Push, dear, push!’ to get the little Humanoid out was like a Saturday Night Live sketch.”

“Oh, that was so funny,” Turkel adds. “Here I am, a scientist, and all I do to help is say, ‘Push, Peggy, push!’ It was a very messy scene, too.”

“That monster baby is one of my all-time favorites,” Myers says. “I was under the table, Lynn was pregnant on it and this is where it got insane. I had this pregnant appliance on her, and I was between her legs with a pump, making her belly jump. Lynn started giggling-Kenny? You’re tickling my thighs!’ My head bobbed up between her legs, the most obscene-looking thing you’ve ever seen. Nobody could stop laughing during this dramatic scene! Lynn had the hotel room across from us effects guys, and was a doll. A Playboy Playmate, nicest girl you’d ever meet; even sang me ‘Happy Birthday,’ ” Myers says fondly.

“Oh, Lynn was a trouper,” Peeters says. “I felt bad, because we put her through a lot. In the scene where we find her in the kelp bed, Lynn turned blue from hypothermia! The ‘Noids went into freezing water with wetsuits underneath, but poor Lynn was just in a bikini, dying out there.”

Peeters wasn’t responsible for the film’s worst moments of misogynist monster mayhem. After Humanoids wrapped, Corman had Battle Beyond the Stars director Jimmy T. Murakami punch up the sex and violence. “Roger put in a couple of nude-women scenes to spark up the movie,” Peeters explains. “He added the Salmon Queen being ravaged to the ending we shot, the tent attack and the rape of Peggy on the beach-shot on a dark and grainy film stock that didn’t match ours. When Peggy’s attacked, I only shot her screaming, with her hands clawing the sand as the Humanoid drags her away. You saw the monster’s hand on her leg, that’s it—you didn’t see anything else because it was too early! You don’t know what happened to her. Later, in the ‘Noids’ nest, you find her naked in the kelp bed and think, ‘Oh my God-at least she’s alive!’ I don’t really think we needed the shot of the Humanoid humping her, though I have no problem with nudity; I just thought it took the terror out and changed the whole tone.

“Roger decided to have ‘one of the boys’ do those scenes,” she continues. “When Ann and I went to the screening, we saw them for the first time, with no idea they had been added. I was furious, because I had put in so much energy and went through hell to make the film. Seeing this stuff, with no attempt to integrate it? Ugh! It pissed Ann off, and she was much more vocal about it than me.”

“I really was,” Turkel says. “That’s why I went public, it wasn’t the film I made. I did it because Richard (Harris) pointed out to me that Peter O’Toole had the same thing happen with Caligula, when they added [pornographic] stuff after he shot his scenes. I complained to SAG and People magazine.”

For her part, Peeters “wanted my name taken off, because it wasn’t the movie I made—and they misspelled my name on half the posters anyway! I appeared in the LA Times disowning Humanoids as it opened.” She adds that, as in her previous features, she had hoped to imbue Humanoids with a feminist message. “That’s what Ann and I were making: a horror movie from a feminine point of view. We felt we could make a scary film based on man’s obsessive desire to f**k with nature, the feminine side. The Humanoids were payback for corporate greed—it’s always the young, the old and the women who pay these bills. We did it within the horror formula. That’s the movie we made, then we saw what the boys did to it; the crass puppet and big-tittied Salmon Queen were creations of pimply dorks jacking off to a trite, worn-around-the-edges dick fantasy. That’s not what Ann or I wanted our names on. If there’s any message in Humanoids, it’s feminine survival in a male-dominated world; it ain’t easy out here, baby!”

Peeters recovered from cancer to become a respected director. “I now run Platinum Productions; I want to make films for senior citizens, an ignored market,” she says. “I’m working on mature comedies where I want everyone on the crew to be 50 and older, including the leads.” She caught Humanoids on TV recently, “and you know what? It’s a fun little thing,” Peeters says. “Overseas, it was called Monster, like the Charlize Theron movie. I laugh every time somebody says, ‘Monster won the Oscar’!”

SCORE/SOUNDTRACK

CAST/CREW Directed Barbara Peeters Jimmy T. Murakami (uncredited)

Produced Martin B. Cohen Roger Corman (executive)

Screenplay Frederick James Story by Frank Arnold Martin B. Cohen

Doug McClure as Jim Hill Ann Turkel as Dr. Susan Drake Vic Morrow as Hank Slattery Cindy Weintraub as Carol Hill Anthony Pena as Johnny Eagle Denise Galik as Linda Beale Lynn Schiller as Peggy Larson Meegan King as Jerry Potter Breck Costin as Tommy Hill

Rob Bottin   … humanoids creator & designer Roger George … special effects Chris Walas  … special effects Karoly Balazs    … makeup artist: second unit (as Charles T. Balazs) Steve Johnson    … special makeup effects assistant Marla Manalis    … hair stylist / makeup artist Shawn McEnroe    … special makeup effects assistant Kenny Myers  … special makeup effects assistant (as Ken Myers) Margaret Prentice … special effects makeup (uncredited)

CREDITS/REFERENCES/SOURCES/BIBLIOGRAPHY Starlog#296 Fangoria#265

Humanoids from the Deep (1980) Retrospective SUMMARY Anglers from the fishing village of Noyo, California catch what appears to be a monster. The young son of one of the anglers falls into the water and something unseen drags him under the surface.

[onceuponarrow]

Arrow Season 5 finale and overall season thoughts

I have not enjoyed this season or the finale, sure there were some moments that I liked but overall this entire season was forgettable. Since I’ve got a few minutes free this morning I thought I’d list some thoughts.

To start I guess I feel like I might have missed something because the entertainment journalists and most people on my twitter and tumblr time lines were really enjoying last night. And I, well I’m left feeling empty, unsatisfied, and underwhelmed.

I guess Oliver and Felicity are back together. So 5x20 was there to wrap up their break-up and move them forward. And that one little line from Felicity during the birthday party showed they are back together. But I guess even though earlier this year I thought the little bits I figured the show would throw to us would be enough for me, it wasn’t, AT ALL. I can’t even articulate what I’m not satisfied with I just feel unhappy with how that whole storyline wrapped up. But like with so many things on this show I’ll make my peace with it and move on. But I guess at least we got a season finale kiss in the suit in good lighting, so that’s something.

There were too many people in this episode so no one really did anything. All this OTA being front and center and important was such bullshit. Seriously Felicity was there to have a crammed in “meaningful” convo with Thea and Samantha and ????? She announced that the whole island was rigged to blow for the audience but did nothing else. Diggle, oh my god. He did nothing, he was just there. If he had a meaningful purpose it was such a quick scene that I forgot it already.

I was really irritated with the whole Oliver telling Thea that she and Curtis (of all people) and Malcolm (who has betrayed them all so many times) needed to protect and get Felicity and Samantha to safety. That made me so mad, like lets reduce Oliver’s love and baby mama to damsels that need protecting well f&ck that.

That Nyssa and Talia fight was anti-climatic and over too fast. I was expecting a lot more out of Talia since they introduced her this season. Now that was a sister conflict storyline that had potential but as usual with Arrow, they introduced way more story than they could adequately tell.

Slade....sigh. I don’t like Slade, I’ve never liked Slade. Slade killed Moira in front of Oliver and Thea. I don’t give a single shit that the miracuru is out of his system and he is no longer mentally unstable and under the influence of drugs. HE KILLED OLIVER AND THEA’S MOTHER IN FRONT OF THEM. HE STABBED HER THROUGH THE HEART WITH A SWORD! UGH! I also see how the show just slid Slade in to give the words of wisdom to Oliver about survivors guilt and forgiving himself that in any other episode would have been Diggle’s to give. Just another way to sideline Diggle so we can get a comic book character moment.

Rene and Curtis did nothing, couple line of exposition and that’s it. Lance was there to call Dinah Bl@ck C@nary. Dinah was there to have a scream fight with Bl@ck Siren. I get it story-wise, everyone Oliver cares for needed to be on that island so Chase could continue to taunt Oliver with everyone you love will always suffer because of you, blah, blah, blah. And for that “emotional” cliffhanger of they are all dead when the island explodes.

Why was Digger Harkness in this episode? Evelyn was so pointless. I don’t get why Bl@ck Siren was there at all. Sure help Chase out as a thank you by capturing everyone in Star City, but why continue on to Lian Yu?

Malcolm, sigh, I guess I’m glad he’s finally dead, but what a way to go. So let me get this straight, he sacrificed himself for Thea. The same Thea he drugged and had her kill Sara so Ra’s wouldn’t go after him and led to Thea being stabbed and almost dying. Then he wouldn’t give up the league to get the cure for the bloodlust. But that death was off screen, so while I think he might actually be dead for real, I also would not be surprised if he were to pop back up alive in season 8 or 9 if Arrow goes that long.

Now the kid, William. Look I’m a mother, I have 2 kids who are 10 and 8. I’m also the child of divorced parents whose dad popped in and out her life throughout her childhood. This whole finale revolved around Oliver trying to find and save his son. Intellectually I get it, but emotionally I was not connected to this story at all. Look I know Oliver supposedly bonded with the kid in season 4 when he was leaving his paralyzed fiance to visit his son, who didn’t know he was his son. But dammit, if the writers knew that they were going to base the entire finale on fathers and sons (hell the whole season really) then it would have been way more emotionally satisfying for me if I had seen Oliver and William interacting and bonding this season. I’m also mildly irked that we never got to see William’s reaction to finding out that Oliver (his mom’s friend who visited with him a few times last year) is his father and his father is the Green Arrow. Sighing again. Once again this whole child story is just used for plot and has no emotional resonance.

Overall season thoughts.

It’s utterly forgettable. There are maybe 2 episodes I would rewatch entirely and maybe 3 or so more I’d watch parts of.

Sometimes I wonder why I’m still watching this show. I haven’t really enjoyed it since season 4a. I guess because every time I think I’m done the writers manage a moment of brilliance and I’m sucked back in.

Billy had no purpose to Felicity’s story. He was there for Oliver’s manpain not for Felicity.

Susan, I’m sighing again. That storyline went no where and was just unceremoniously dropped.

I know some people are happy with Felicity’s arc this season. But it was too little for me. She was sidelined too much this season. While I know she got a lot of screen time a lot of it was about other people’s emotional journeys, technical expertise, and exposition. I’ve given up thinking that she will ever get an in-depth story. I can hope for Smoak Tech next season but I’m not holding my breath.

Oliver, is this no killing thing going to actually stick for real this time? Because I thought it had previously, he spared Slade, but then he killed Ra’s and Damien and was back to killing again at the beginning of this season. I just feel like we constantly retread the same stories over and over with Oliver and I’m just tired of it. Find something new writers. But I don’t think they are capable of finding new emotional arcs for Oliver because once again it sounds like season 6 is a retread of a story already told. But I know it’s early and something had to be announced at upfronts.

I was not really satisfied with the wrap up of the flashbacks. I figured Kovar would have fought with and delayed Oliver just enough to have him miss the boat and he’d be stuck on the island for a couple of months. They really screwed up cutting flashback Oliver’s hair in season 4. If he’d never cut his hair over 5 years and missed the boat Anatoli sent for him that would explain the hair and beard. A wig and fake beard was so ridiculous. But whatever at least the flashbacks (my least favorite part of the show) are finally over.

Sighing once again. I just  re-read this post and I feel like I’ve done nothing but complain. But I wasn’t satisfied with this episode or this season and I needed a way to get my feelings out. So thanks anyone who made it all the way through this post. I’ll probably still follow along with summer hiatus speculations and be back in the fall. But nothing in the finale made me excited to watch next season.

I’m rarely invested in more than 1-3 shows at a time and Arrow has been the only show I watch consistently for the the past 2 years. So I really hope something comes out over the summer or at SDCC to make me want to return, otherwise I might be searching for a new show to watch.

Tagging some friends (by the way thanks for the good thoughts and wishes sent my way) @almondblossomme @marytagus @laurabelle2930 @hope-for-olicity @nalla-madness @green-arrows-of-karamel @wildirish23 @olicity-i-believe-in-you

[yingqilin]

Where Do I Even Begin?

Well, first of all, I’ve LOVED LOVED LOVED Qilin ALMOST as much as I loved Unicorns, and Dragon. I say ALMOST because I first saw a unicorn on TV when I was 4 years old in the EARLY 1980s! But, I’d never even heard of a so-called “Chinese Unicorn” since about the mid-late 1980s when I saw a children’s magazine called “Cricket” which had a WHOLE SPREAD about UNICORNS, including the Chinese & Japanese versions.

(I don’t believe this was the actual cover. I can’t remember what year the Cricket Magazine issue was, just that it was in the 1980s. This issue was cited in many books written about Unicorns as well, following its syndication. It had a full on spread including many kinds of unicorns from many cultures... if I recall correctly, there might even have been an French Unicorn story as well.)

When I was a little kid, I actually didn’t like to read (which was an issue by the late 1900s, and even the government would talk about it, the trouble was they’d demonized comic books in the 1960s-1970s, which resulted in that problem, because even tho’ “correlation doesn’t equal causation” they didn’t know that and thought that the act of reading comics made you into a criminal. My experience was the exact opposite, because I read super hero comics a lot and was more interested in THAT than things like doing hard drugs, vandalism, and shoplifting which was rampant in NJ where I grew up.) So, by the late 1980s-early 1990s children were encouraged to read, read, read. Well, I liked pictures, and I LOVED: unicorns, dragons, and dinosaurs, ANYTHING FANTASY, but also Sci-Fi. (I also loved Marvel Comics/X-MEN, and Disney Adventures Magazine, and nearly all the Jeffrey Katzenberg hit Disney Films)

So, whenever it was something of interest to me, I would read a lot, and I had stacks of books, which I also used to practice learning art, and I was self taught. (I have A.D.D.)

I graduated in May 2001 from the Art Institute of Philadelphia (Majored in Computer Animation AKA CAM). And, by the GW Bush Era, I had already been active online since 1994, and had been blogging, and using many various art websites.

By late 2001, and most of the early 2000s (2001-2007) I spent months and even years sketching and drawing Qilin, interacting in the Furry/Anthro Fandom, and published a lot of my works to GeoCites/Yahoo, and had even created my own message boards, and so on. I even had one called “Qilin Savanna” Altho’ much of these sites are gone, my original works still remain on DeviantArt in my gallery HERE. (I also LIVED IN CHINA many times in the GWB Era often.)

Since that time I’d also written a lot of things, multiple times over, about my research into Qilin (which are not all unicorns, just some).

If you were to type in “qilin cartoon” into Google you can actually see the many many photo images that come up since the time I’d first started publishing my work ONLINE, FOR FREE, you can actually see how my works have influenced people. Back then, there was a MAJOR mix-up with the term, because MOST information available in ENGLISH regarding CHINESE EVERYTHING was often inaccurate, used the dead Wade-Giles Chinese language, or were often confused with JAPANESE. Another issue was that I actually could speak standard Mandarin Chinese, but many people wrote the Cantonese names, or FREQUENTLY confused them with Japanese name for the exact same character (AKA kanji, AKA Hanzi), which is “kirin” in Japanese. Also, the majority of NON-Chinese speaking persons don’t know how to pronounce Mandarin pinyin. (Example: Can you pronounce?: chi, qi, shi, xi, zhi, zi, qu, chu, er, ri, ren, si, ran, yu, you, bo, po, zhou, zhu, cao, zui - Most Non-Chinese speakers CANNOT pronounce these correctly at all. “Chi” sounds like “Tcher” and “Qi” sounds like “Tchee”, “Shi” sounds like “scher” and “xi” sounds like “schee”. There are also variations on pronunciation.)

But, I still stuck to the facts. my father-in-law in China,The late Wang Zimin, actually had special access to a restricted library, and wrote letters to me about Qilin, and the 4 major Chinese magical deities: Qilin, Long/Dragon, Fenghuang/Phoenix, Bixi/Dragon-Heard Tortoise.

Back then, mostly you needed to search “kirin” especially because M. Peña called her artwork “Kirin” but still also called them “Chinese Unicorns”. Her gorgeous sculpture works were sold everywhere for years, nation wide, from the boardwalk to Spencer Gifts, to Flea Markets, and Christmas season mall kiosks.

But, as you scroll through all the works produced since that time, not only the ones titled or tagged as "kirin” but over time “Qilin” starts to replace this as more and more people growing up actually start to study Chinese, especially artists and customers, and many of these young artists are either my fans or students, but fans or students of my students... after a while, people forgot who I was... but my work BECAME PART OF THE CULTURE.

You can SEE that many people emulated my poses, my styles of doing hair, and many other details. Over the years, a number of my fans, and friends would send me private messages FREAKING OUT that either someone stole my work, stile my style, or ripped me off...

That’s actually NOT TRUE. No one ripped me off. THOSE ARE MY STUDENTS.

You guys ASKED ME things like: How do you draw _____? so I made countless cheat-sheet style tutorials (because paid classes don’t ACTUALLY TEACH). Also, if someone wants to learn, (like myself) they try to draw from WHAT THEY LOVE. That means ME. MY ARTWORK. How else will they learn if they don’t copy, ask questions, etc.?

I have many many open source materials in my DeviantART gallery (which are STILL MY MOST POPULAR WORKS OF ALL TIME despite the hours of work I’ve produced artistically.) I have also licensed much of my line art works FOR FREE for people to practice coloring with wither digitally, or to print them out and color with real media like markers, color pencils, pastels, or whatever because people kept asking me.

Actually, I would like to credit a number of artists whom are my biggest influences as well:

Susan Dawe

Glen Keane

Alan Davis

Those are my biggest ones, but I also loved artworks by Burne Hogarth,  Auguste Rodin,  Edward Degas (I especially love his ROUGH sketch work), Frank Frazzetta, Boris Vallejo & Julie Belle, Fred Moore, Vladimir “Bill” Tytla,   AND the film The Last Unicorn was especially the #1 thing that got me actually DRAWING when I was 4 years old.

SO much of my work, especially ANYTHING with unicorns, has been tattooed onto people bodies. Many people personally asked my permission, but I honestly DO NOT MIND. I have found over the years more examples of my artwork tattooed onto people than I can count. It’s LOVE.

However, I’ve also many many times been the victim of theft FOR REAL. Many people have tried to rob my sketchbooks, and many companies have illegally robbed my artwork online. It was the cause of MUCH online fights, wars, and battles. There’s also impersonators: People pretending to be ME, or claiming THEY did my work: also the cause of much much online fights and flame wars.

-Then, of course, there’s LOTS & LOTS of kids online that “rob” my work for RPGs, and fan pages... Honestly, I’m NOT going after children, or fans, for harmless things like that... I’m NOT Metallica.

So, where am I going with THIS?

Well, for one, there’s both ART and PHILOSOPHY which are BOTH a MAJOR part of my life.

I had a number of setbacks, delays, and many other strings of very unfortunate events in my life. Needless to say, I was very depressed. However, I did find myself back in college, first for Philosophy, and then for Art, especially Video... which somehow saw me thrust forward into Animation HEAD-FIRST. Suffice it to say, I’ve worked through, blew threw, and past, all of my blocks, and have been doing animation again. (lots more long stories, but not writing them here)

Many many times, you can’t always reach, yet, what you want. Other times, other persons, or groups want to change you, or make you something else.... and not you. But, it kills you inside...

At some point, you need STOP listening to everyone, and everything else, ESPECIALLY if that’s not FLOWING in the direction are are INSIDE.

I’d already WANTED to produce at least 2 series/films of my own. (”Eyewitness” and “Zenith Beyond The Dragon’s Rue”) Well, THIS is a branch off that tree. This stems from my concepts for “Eyewitness” but sort-of... I had ALWAYS wanted to produce my own small animated shorts, especially with music, like the old 20th Century animated works such as “Silly Symphonies”, “Merry Melodies”, and even Disney's “Fantasia”, but also a number of influences from Far East Asia including PR China, and Japan.

I’ve been multiple times inspired by Socrates, Plato, Laozi, Bruce Lee (Li Xiaolong), and many fusion artists/dancers on the American West Coat including my teachers: Zoe Jakes, and Alyssum Pole, as well as Rachel Brice, Carolena Nericcio, Jamlila & Suhaila Salimpour, but also Matahari, and Kerli Kõiv. People that think differently, question things, or create their own ideas, or even fusion artists.

Well, this project has been on my mind since at least 2001.

In fact, my actual name (Ming Zi) in Chinese is: 任思麒 (Ren SiQi)

It literally means: Duty/Task [to] Think/Contemplate/Dream of Qi[lin]!

Also, as an artist, there are a number of things I believe in, whereas other things I’ve shed like a snake molting its skin. I’m a fusion artist, an eclectic artist, but I still firmly believe in art fundamentals like life drawing, practicing one’s skills, and I use bot digital and real media. I LOVE TO DRAW. I firmly believe in Quality OVER Quantity, yet, in some instances I also think too much detail is overdo, and somethings look better less refined. I like realism, stylization, cartoons, and beautiful things.

I want to create content that is LESS about “being a big success” or ego driven ideas of “stardom”, and lavish money making, but more about THE LOVE OF IT.

I do NOT want to be part of any establishment groups, crowds, clubs, or institutions, and DON’T want to be mainstream, NOR corporate. I have found all of those things to be negative and destructive to my life and therefore regret pursuing those avenues. I’m NOT interested in walking those paths, nor dunking helplessly into those turbulent or stagnant flows, but RATHER Flow my own way, because I have my OWN PATHS. I don’t need to buy their metaphorical light bulbs, because I have my own light that I can shine inside of me.

And, if I am being completely frank & honest, another MAJOR influence on me WAY BEFORE HE WAS EVEN POPULAR was Bernie Sanders. I am a Berner. Sanders actually GAVE OF HIS HEART & HIS TIME FOR FREE. He crowd funded for what he believed in with SMALL MONEY because he was against BIG MONEY.

I have no care for being in exclusive film festivals or galleries. People whom already LOVE my work find their way to it. People HAVE found value in my efforts and work.

Therefore, I wish to begin producing this animated short. It is not cheap tho’. But, I will gladly share my process, my concept work, my practice work, and everything FOR FREE. Free to ALL ARTISTS, and people whom just live beautiful things, art, and QILIN.

I wish to pursue an independent direction in my art. But, I would very much like to include people, if not the world or those in it that care about these things, to interact with me. A long time ago I’d created my “Qilin Savanna” site to interact with people whom also loved Qilin, Unicorns, Dragons, and other things, but also a love for art, or learning art.

This year (2017) while interacting with MANY MANY young people, and young artists, I often found that people WANTED to learn to DRAW, to improve their techniques and practice them, but despite having paid money to attend art classed (including “drawing classes”) they did not actually get what they paid for, did not actually get instruction for what they wanted to learn, but either had to fend for themselves, try independently, or got resources online for free... so, why then were they paying for it?

I have many many times, spent just a short moment with frustrated peers, students, classmates, friends, and fellow artists whom couldn’t draw what they wanted to, and teased me for being some kind of special person... when in fact, whatever I do, others can too. I sat with them, explained, and demonstrated (AKA Using The Feynman Technique) and after that moment of AHA THEY COULD DO IT. And, they didn’t need to come back. 

I did THAT FOR FREE.

I did THAT FOR LOVE.

And, NO, I DON’T HAVE A MASTER’S DEGREE. Honestly, at this point, I don’t feel I actually want one. I DON’T want to be a part of that club, nor establishment either. In this way, I’m somewhat like Socrates, Diogenes, or Bruce Lee... only NOT. I’m ME. 

I have a lot more to say, but I think I will leave it here for now.

[guadalajara92]

I AM JANE PART 3

Part 2: https://guadalajara92.tumblr.com/post/158361966474/i-am-jane

Message in a ZIP

The sounds of the men searching for her faded as she slowly made it deeper into the forest. She leaned on a tree as she tried to make the dizziness stop. She knew that she only had a little time left before more of Shepherd's men came to find her. She wished she could remember the man or woman who was her previous leader.

She knew she didn't trust anyone before. So did she place her trust in someone who was in charge of deleting her previous existence? Her new memory told her that she didn't trust anyone. Not even Oscar. With all that she went through, it would be hard to trust someone.

She stared at her right hand. What type of message did she send to herself? She had never figured out a puzzle before. It had usually only been Patterson, with an exception of Agent Zapata once. Fighting was her thing, solving puzzles…not so much. How could she ever solve a puzzle, especially a puzzle that she had forgotten?

Her leg gave in as she fell to the ground - her right hand scrapped the tree as she tried to grab it for balance. As she lay on the forest ground she started to sob. She had held it in for so long. The betrayal, the pain, and the hatred. She soaked it up like a sponge and tried to be strong. She was far enough away to know that no one could hear her cries. Just like a tree falling in the forest. Even if she cries out, do her pleading cries even make a sound?

Still laying down she lifted up her scrapped and partially bloody right hand. She stared at the intricate design as she fell into another memory.

Her skin was clear of the tattoos, and her long hair in a messy bun. She sat in front of a thick wooden desk biting her nails. Behind the desk stood large bookshelves full of books on neuroscience. On top of the cluttered desk was a small plaque that read "Dr. Lee Johnson."

The door opened as a short, stalky, bald man entered the room. He dressed in a white lab coat with his name embroidered on the front pocket. The remaining hairs on the top of his head were combed to the side. The Doctor stood and smiled at Jane. Jane smiled back as she pulled down her white t-shirt, and stood up to shake his hand.

"Susan I heard that you wanted to hear more about ZIP? Do you suffer from PTSD?" the doctor asked as they both sat down.

"Yes," Jane lied. She had come there secretly to get answers. Giving a fake name so there was no trace back to her.

"Yes, I served in the Military - I saw things," Jane continued, "I had a friend that received the ZIP treatment, but she was very unstable. When the doctor went to grab something she stuck the full vile into her arm. She forgot everything."

"That is very tragic," The doctor replied.

"Yes," She continued with her lie "But as time went on she began to regain specific memories like from her childhood or her training in the army."

"Is it possible to regain specific memories back after being dosed entirely with ZIP?" she asked.

"I am guessing that your question is hypothetical? You don't plan on following in your friend's footsteps?" the doctor said, as he stared into Jane's green eyes to try to determine if she was mentally stable.

"Of course," she replied.

"Ok then," the doctor said apprehensively, slowly leaning back in his chair. "Your brain makes a specific protein form of Protein Kinase C called PKMzeta. This substance helps regulate long-term potentiation in the brain. Long-term potentiation or LTP is a process of physical changes in your brain, which change the structure of scattered nerve cells to be more sensitive to others. So when one lights up the others can follow. This process of physical changes is what makes our long-term memory.

Long-term memory consists of memories that seem to stick with you. This is because they are constantly used, or the synaptic connections are strengthened over and over.

When your brain knows that a memory is constantly used it stores it as a long-term memory in the hippocampus, almost like a storage facility. But, the brain needs to give the information a special identity to make the memory stronger, so it tags it with strong emotional feelings or ties. This is why traumatic experiences or your happiest moments seem to stay with you."

"You are emotionally tied to them," she confirmed.

"Exactly! The Zeta Interactive Protein or "ZIP" gets in the middle of those memories it inhibits the late phase of long-term potentiation, which would cut off your long-term memories. Let me show you a picture of its chemical structure, I find it very interesting."

The doctor pulled out a book from his shelves. He licked his finger before he turned the pages.

"Here it is. Look at its unique carbon structure." The doctor said as he pointed to the picture. The structure was a hexagonal shape with lines coming out of the points. The same shapes that now (in present time) covered her right hand.

"But, like you were saying - your friend remembered some things?" the doctor asked.

"Yes," she said.

"I am guessing if hypothetically your memories were erased like your friend's, some memories could come back because of the emotional tie that you had with them. I would guess if you made a memory strong enough emotionally they could come back," the doctor finished.

Her memory finished as she was pulled back into the present time.

Her sobbing had stopped as she sat on the ground. She sat for a second thinking about the memory she just had, as the thoughts formed in her head she spoke out loud.

"I would have had to made this easy to understand," she said

She looked around and found a small stick. She started to draw in the dirt, her soft strokes making the hexagonal ZIP pattern she saw in her memory.

"There are ten lines of the same pattern. Each line has a different number of ZIP structures." She explained to herself. She continued by counting each line individually, and wrote them in the dirt."

"0,2,3,7,6,5,5,5,4,5," she said audibly, as she finished writing the numbers in the dirt. "Ten numbers…. It's a phone number!" She exclaimed in excitement. Her excitement then turned back into a stupor of thought. "Wait it can't be that easy," she said questioning her judgment. She thought back to the letter to herself in her other memory.

"If I planned this right, and you are able to remember this moment, pay close attention. There is an encrypted code that is now tattooed on your right hand. No one except you knows this. You made this - in a case of emergency. You can unlock the code by several steps and a key phrase. It was made just for you just in case. REMEMBER TRUST NO ONE. "

"Key phrase? What key phrase?" she asked herself. "Remember trust no one? Trust no one…. Trust no one. That's it!" she said, as she wrote the phrase in the dirt. " 'Trust No One' has ten letters. If the message is a phone number then 'Trust no one' must be the ten phone digits. Each letter goes from zero to nine. If the numbers correspond to the phone letters, that would change the phone number to 877-666-6686," she concluded.

She pulled the phone out of her pocket, there was still no signal. She looked up at the tall tree she sat against. "Maybe the signal is stronger up there," she thought, as she stood up still favoring her right leg. She looked at the tree, knowing that climbing it would be painful. With all her mental strength she pushed forward. One leg after the other, she lifted herself up to the top of the tree.

She pulled the phone out, and stretched her arm as high as she could, to try and get a signal. Her right leg wrapped around the tree branch in order to keep her balance.

There was a weak signal that went in as fast as it went out. She knew that the only possible way to call the phone number she just solved would be to send it as a message to her team.

By memory, she typed in her team's phone numbers and added the smallest message she could in order to be sent with the weak signal.

"SOS MG 877-666-6686," she wrote.

She lifted her hand as high as she could. The moment the signal came in she pressed the send button.

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

It had been a couple hours since Weller had left them alone at FBI headquarters, with very little explanation of what was happening. They had been sitting in Weller's office working on finalizing their last case when he got the call from Patterson. They could only hear one side of the telephone conversation as he spoke.

"Weller," He answered and paused as he listened to the other end.

"What?" Weller shouted. "I'll be over in a couple minutes. I'll meet you in the surveillance room."

"What is going on?" Reade asked as Weller got up from his desk, and put on his coat jacket. His eyes were glazed over with worry.

"Jane just went missing," Weller replied. He couldn't believe it, even as the words came out of his mouth.

"She escaped?" Zapata questioned, as an expression of disbelief covered her face. "Would Jane really escape?" she questioned.

"I don't know. See what you can figure out." Weller said. He searched his pocket for his keys and started walking to the door. Weller turned around briefly as he faced his agents. "It won't take long before Director Pellington finds out what has happened to Jane. Be careful, not to let him know about anything. You know nothing." He warned.

"We will get her back, Weller," Reade assured. Weller only gave him a glance as he left the room. He ran down the hall and into the elevator.

After being taken off of the Jane Doe case, and Agent Weller being promoted to Assistant Director of the FBI, it had just been just the two of them for a while-Agent Reade and Agent Zapata. Yes, Patterson helped out. But, most of her time was on the Jane Doe Project, on which she had been working secretly as Weller had instructed her.

No one had spoken about the conversation they had following Jane's confession. They knew they couldn't trust anyone. Not even the FBI. They knew from experience there could be informants anywhere. Everywhere there were people who were willing to do anything to climb the ladder of bureaucracy.

No one must discover they were secretly trying to help Jane. They had their doubts about her and hesitated to trust her. What she had done had scared them, however, they still continued with the hope that Jane had acted to protect their team, and was not working as a double agent.

Now, two hours later, their eyes were focused on a single computer screen, as they searched for information that might help them in finding Jane. They came up with nothing. Frustration took a toll on them, and the walls in the small office they had sneaked into, seemed to be closing in on them.

Reade rubbed his eyes, hoping that they could come up with something, - anything' that could help them in finding Jane.

"We need Patterson," Zapata said. She picked up her phone and punched in her number. It went straight to voicemail. "That's weird," she said raising her eyebrows.

"Let me try calling Weller," Reade said. It went to voicemail as well. "Something isn't right," he said as he hung up the phone.

Just before taking their next step of action, both of their cell phones went off simultaneously. They opened their phones to read. "SOS MG 877-666-6686."

"SOS MG?" Reade asked as he and Zapata compared the texts on their phones. They looked at each other confused, as they tried to figure out the message in front of them. They stared vacantly for just a few seconds. Zapata grinned as she received a moment of clarity.

"MG…Maggie! The message is from Jane. She is asking for help!" She exclaimed as she started to feel the weight of the world momentarily lift from her shoulders.

"877? The area code is used for toll-free numbers. What is she trying to do…sell us something?" Reade joked, still with some seriousness in his voice. He never really understood Jane's way of thinking. He thought she was kind of a wild card. He was never able to pinpoint exactly what her methods were when they were in the field. She saved the day many times and was a good member of the team, but sometimes she just got in the way. He wondered if this message to them was supposed to be straight forward, or Jane's special way of doing things.

Zapata quickly dialed the number and placed it on speaker. They stood close together their heads almost touching as they put their ears next to the phone. The phone rang a couple times, beeped, and then gave a long clicking static noise. Confused by what had just happened, Zapata tried dialing the number again. Just as it had done before, it rang, beeped, and then gave off the static noise.

"Dial it again. I think I know what is going on," Reade said. Zapata did as she was told. Reade pulled out his phone to record the call.

"What is it?" Zapata asked her eyes locked onto Reade, as she tried to figure out what he was up to.

"Shh," He said placing his finger on his lip as he recorded the static sound. Once he finished the recording he unplugged the speaker from the computer and plugged it into his phone. "Listen," he said as he turned up the volume. "It's not static… there are specific clicks to it." He began to explain what he had figured out. It didn't take long for Zapata to understand what was going on.

"It's Morse Code," she concluded. "Play it again," She instructed as she grabbed her notebook to record the message. Reade played it for her again. Listening carefully, she wrote down the numbers and letters given to her through the static message. As she finished they both looked at the writing.

"Is that what I think it is?" Reade asked.

They started reading the message in astonishment "GPS 8402NCV3NP"

"It's a GPS tracking number," Zapata said as she started typing on the computer, pulling up the FBI Global Positioning System. She placed the number into the system. In a number of seconds, a yellow light flickered on the screen.

"The signal is coming from inside the Ramapo Mountain State Park. It's about forty minutes away from us. We could make it in twenty-five with sirens on." Zapata said.

"It would make sense. Jane couldn't have gotten too far away in a couple of hours. But, what are we tracking? A car…a phone?" Reade asked. He leaned forward as he watched Zapata, her fingers typing with lightning speed. He had forgotten how good she was at the computer. Patterson usually had outshone everyone with her computer savvy skills, but Zapata was really talented as well.

With a few clicks, Zapata pulled up the registration. "The GPS registration is under a Mae Amiggi." She stated as she continued typing on the computer. Zapata gasped slightly as she pulled up more information on the GPS tracking number.

"What?" Reade asked.

"We are not tracking a car or phone," Zapata said taking in another small breath, her eyes were fixed on the screen. "We are tracking a person. The tracking number is to a human microchip implant."

"Microchip implant?" he questioned. "It sounds like something straight out of a sci-fi novel."

"They are real. I saw a short documentary on them once on the news. It's a sub-dermal implant with a transponder encased in glass. In the video, they said that they were working on making the chip with GPS monitoring, but that they ran into some ethical problems. This person must have been part of a test run."

"How can we get the signal in a forest though? There won't be very good phone reception out there, " he stated.

"GPS signals usually go off of satellite, or radio signals," she answered.

"So who is this Mae Amiggi?" Reade asked as he puzzled over why Jane would need them to track down an unknown person in a forest of all places. Zapata pulled up the FBI search engine and typed in 'Mae Amiggi'. It only took a few seconds for the search engine to come up empty.

"There is nothing on anyone named Mae Amiggi, " She said with a sigh of disbelief, desperately trying to understand the meaning behind Jane’s message.

"Wait," Reade bellowed. "It's not Mae Amiggi…" he said as he started writing the name down in Zapata's notebook. He continued, "If you unscramble the name you get …'I Am Maggie'," He let out a small laugh, happy with his accomplishment. With flourish, he underlined 'I Am Maggie' several times with the pen. "The tracking number is Jane's…more specifically, the tracking number is Jane." He concluded.

"Let's go find her," Zapata said as she quickly turned off the computer and headed to the door, Reade at her heels. He tried dialing Weller once again.