#it’s very….. it’s giving phone password. not even for me just the vibes.

[milo-is-rambling]

Is this a satisfying as fuck section of a sudoku game or am I weird about numbers

[buckybarnesss]

on fire: a teen wolf novel chapters 10-13 chapters 7-9 here chapters 4-6 here chapters 1-3 here

after a little break i am back with a new installment i'm doing 4 chapters today because this book only has 19 chapters.

once again: kate argent is her own warning.. there's an entire flashback chapter of her and derek when he was a teenager. she explicitly grooms him.

Our intrepid heroes are still in the goddamn woods. We shall never leave. Allison is cold and so Scott snuggles with her to share body heat. Classic trope but I have read many missing persons cases. Hypothermia can happen even when you don’t think it can. 

And we have yet another example of Derek being characterized as kind of a dick. He and Stiles find a campfire as Derek tries to track the scent of the Alpha and/or locate Scott. Stiles is just having a bad time as he’s winded from trying to keep up with Derek. Derek leaves him there. I reject this. No. Derek never left Stiles anywhere like this. Especially not with danger afoot. It very much stands in contrast to Wolf’s Bane when Derek crawls over broken glass and fights Peter, distracting him from Stiles.

The Queen has finally arrived. We finally get some Lydia narration. She also comes with Danny and some random dude Damon. 

It had been kind of annoying Danny hasn’t been involved that much considering he is Jackson’s best friend.

Have I mentioned that I don’t particularly care for how Danny is handled in this book? First you have Stiles assuming they should send Danny to the pay-by-the-hour motel because he’s gay and now Lydia’s narration is stereotyping the poor guy. “Dark-haired, with that cool Hawaiian vibe he had.” Danny was right to leave y'all.

Danny says he doesn’t have Lydia’s phone number which I sincerely doubt. 

I want to throw hands with this line “He gave her a completely non-sexual once over.” It’s giving gay-best friend trope vibes which to be fair was at its height in the 2010s and let’s face it this is how Lydia was often written pre-character development (and even after). Especially in the Sterek fandom. Don’t y’all try to tell me otherwise. I was there, Gandalf. 

There is this little section of Lydia’s I think deserves some commentary. The way this book has a subplot for Allison and Scott revolving around how they want to sleep together and the way Jackson and Lydia think of their relationship, especially their sexual relationship is interesting. Now, I’m no pearl clutching Puritan on this subject but the way that sex is handled in this narrative strikes me as too adult for their age. But this passage makes me change my perspective a little. These are kids acting too adult because they feel pressured in other areas of their lives to be adults without the experience and emotional capacity to do so. That fits in with Teen Wolf’s narrative. 

“Are you going through his stuff?” Danny queried, and she have him her best patronizing look, “Please,” She said, “You must know that I have a drawer here.” Damon looked even more impressed. Very few teenagers could claim the very adult perk of having a drawer containing their belongings at their boy -- or girlfriend’s house. Not that many teenagers had the need. It spoke of changing clothes, spending the night. Adult stuff.  Sex.”

Jackson’s computer wallpaper is Lydia which is sweet but then she says she picked it out herself which is less sweet. 

Jackson’s computer password is fucking Captain. You deserve to be hacked, Jackson.

Now Lydia brought Danny and his hanger on Damon from her house to Jackson’s because they’re looking for a CD Jackson apparently burned for Damon to use to DJ for a party. The 2010s of it all came out and kneed me in the solar plexus. Even Lydia was wondering why Jackson didn’t just make a shared playlist. But she searches through Jackson’s stuff stalling a little so she can snoop. This is all important because we finally get to the actual plot of why Jackson was lured away and missing in the first place. People want to rob the Whittermore’s while they’re out of town. Jackson at this point is still being held at gunpoint over in the preserve. 

The would be robbers -- henceforth referred to as Thing One and Thing Two -- assault Lydia and threaten her demanding to know if there are other people in the house. Lydia truly gets a raw deal no matter what.

Meanwhile, Derek’s left Stiles and is trying to follow the scene of the Alpha. He uses the word “shedding” to refer to how he left Stiles. I cannot impress enough how he would not fucking say that.

Derek’s out of luck though because the scent he comes across is old. He is at the place he found Laura’s body where he has a Moment of Anger before he moves on he picks up on Jackson’s scent. He recalls how he dug his claws into Jackson back in Magic Bullet and feels a tiny bit bad. He finds a half burned article about Jackson and does what I deem a Derek thing to do and that’s pocket it because he’s “keeping tabs on Jackson”. It’s stalking, Derek.

Narration switches back to Stiles and of course he gets weird quickly and Stiles what the fuck? Stiles doing something like this during the later seasons wouldn’t be out of the norm. He’s paranoid, hyper vigilant and suspicious at that point but here? Season 1? Stalker.

“He had tried calling Scott a couple more times, then Allison, then Lydia. He’d had her phone in his possession when he deleted the picture she’d accidentally taken of the Alpha. Of course he’d also inputted her number into his own phone; how stalkerish was that?”

Derek reappears and scares Stiles. Stiles observes “He was kind of sweaty, and he looked glummer than usual.” Stiles refuses to be normal about Derek. 

They have a little tiff except it’s them being worried about the same thing but in opposite directions. 

“Stiles crossed his arms and hunched over, shivering and trying to make himself inconspicuous, in cast the Alpha spotted Derek and decided to attack him. But Derek was a Beta werewolf too, like Scott. Why wasn’t he part of the Alpha’s pack? Maybe he is. Maybe he just hasn’t told us, he thought. “Or maybe it’s some kind of trap,” Derek said, “Something the Argents cooked up.” “You mean that Allison’s in on it?” Stiles asked, sounding incredulous.  Derek slid a glance at him. “Why do you sound so surprised? You know what the Argents are. What they do.``

And so we have arrived. The part of this book I remember the most. The Derek Hale Flashbacks. We go six years into the past. 

This is definitely where the idea of Kate Argent working at Beacon Hills High comes from and it makes a lot of sense. It even works even better given the context of season 2 where the Argents actually infiltrate the school as a tactic. 

Holder puts Derek on the swim team which is funny in retrospect because of how the swim team is important to the story of season 2 but Derek is established in season 3 as having been on the basketball team like Peter.

Holder also does a little world building on werewolf customs and pack dynamics here which the show lacks in detail. The way Holder does it is far more patriarchal than what the Hales actually are in the show. There’s a focus on Derek’s father (unnamed even here), the contest/rivalry between him and his cousin Josh, entrance into manhood and Uncle Peter. 

I am still deeply amused by Holder making the Beast of Gevaudan an ancestor of the Hales when the show took the route of making it far more deeply connected to the Argents.

The deepest of sighs at this : “Unlike Laura, who was popular, he didn’t have any human friends, and he didn’t want any.” I just have the hardest time with isolationist, anti-human Derek. Season 3 Derek called and told Book Derek to fuck himself. Derek had a posse of generic human friends.

Kate preys on Derek while she fills in for the main coach as he’s on paternity leave. Also Kate’s up here just brassily using her actual name.

Like Derek’s about 16 here so I can easily buy him noticing a pretty young woman in close proximity to him but Holder does a good job in making it clear that while Derek’s attracted to Kate superficially her interest in him makes him uncomfortable. Derek’s narration says things like “Flustered, even a little frightened.” and “He practically ran out of the school, looking over his shoulder.”

Holder then parallels Scott and Allison once more which is a, um, choice by describing Kate’s hair in the moonlight and Derek almost wolfing out. 

Apparently Laura and Derek shared a Subaru Forester. Which Hale lesbian bought this?

Now up until this point I’ve mostly avoided talking about Laura and her presence in this book because I was saving it for this scene. Laura Hale is a ghost in the narrative in the show. She’s seen maybe three different times outside of being a corpse. She’s never actually named in any of those short appearances and no one talks about her. Here she’s mentioned several times by Scott, Stiles and Derek. Plus now she’s shown in Derek’s flashbacks. I don’t like her all that much here and I think this might be where some of Laura’s fanon characterization comes from. 

Anyway, Derek and Laura are at a diner together eating hamburgers. Derek drinks Diet Coke. Look, I don’t see him as a Diet Coke drinker but that’s not the point here. Derek mentions Kate and how he thinks she’s so beautiful. Laura has this moment where she seems concerned:

“Is this...woman a student?” Laura asked. “No. She’s the new lifeguard. Ms. Argent.” Mr. Braswell’s replacement.” “School lifeguard?” she said, looking mildly shocked. “A teacher?”

After this though Laura’s characterization takes a nosedive. She refers to Kate as a slut when at this point in time Kate hasn’t really done anything necessarily wrong. Derek only really tells Laura of thinking she’s pretty. Laura’s never even met her.

She goes on to tease Derek about his crush -- the word mateable is used 🤮 -- and Derek shuts down. “Suddenly, he didn’t feel like talking to her about it anymore.”

I hate it here.

The next scene is another flashback I recall vividly. Melissa and baby Scott being abused by Mr. McCall. This fuckface trying to convince Scott that his asthma attack isn’t real and it’s all in his head. I want this man to die. Interesting that later when Rafael McCall is introduced he’s still The Worst.

Catch these hands. “Scott didn’t want him to yell at his mom because Scott had asthma. It wasn’t her fault. It was his, Scott’s.” 

If Melissa McCall had killed him no would have charged her. 

Back in the present we return to Scott and Allison. They’re still cuddling but realize they’re supposed to be looking for Allison’s keys. Her phone rings and they have a mishap which sends Allison down the incline. She takes him with her.

They recover but Allison has now lost her keys and phone. Bad day all around for Ally A.

Scott finds Allison’s phone using his wolf powers but he can’t let her know that so they use his phone to call hers. 

Her ringtone for him is apparently a band called Kids of 88. I had never heard of them so after a quick search their biggest hit was in 2009 My House. Which again -- sex.

Scott went to get her phone but he’s prevented by an invisible barrier. Wolfsbane. He makes up a lie about his leg being hurt because like how else do you explain not being able to touch a bush?

They sit down and Scott’s having thoughts like “Oh I wish Derek were here” so you know it’s not great. Allison talks a little about how she’s close to her parents.

They are fucking kissing again. Stop it. It’s not the time. 

Scott decides to text Stiles and says Stiles knows his username and password. We all know. It’s the ever iconic Allison. Jackson and Scott truly deserve each other.

I forgot Jackson was still being held at gunpoint while all this has been going on.

Jackson makes an attempt to escape but yet another guy is waiting at the Porsche. How many people are there? Two here, Cassie probably and then the two at the house. So 5 people in total it appears. Geez. 

His escape fails and he’s taken hostage. Jackson never has a good time. 

All of Chapter 13 is Kate and Derek. Shall we brace ourselves?

“One by one the other swimmers left, and he’d remained behind, torn between disappointment that she hadn’t done it again, and complete and utter relief that she was staying away from him.” Holder writes young Derek having the instinct to know Kate’s attention isn’t good.

Now Holder does do some interesting bits of worldbuilding but like I said earlier it seems so patriarchal. Surrounding challenges and fighting. His view of humans in the book is one of paternalism. 

Kate is going in for the kill now and I’m crawling up my own spine. She makes herself come across as demure. She’s playing meek and turning the whole thing back on Derek giving him the illusion of choice as she grooms him. She purposefully is coming across as more of a peer than an adult figure with authority. 

“She swirled her fingers in the water. “And this isn’t really my style, you know?” I don’t come onto men like this.” Men. She thought of him as a man. He licked his lips, completely tongue-tied. “I wish you’d say something,” she murmured. “I’m kind of dying about it now. I’m sorry if I misread your intentions. I won’t bother you again.” “I know we’d have to be careful. Outsiders might not understand.”

Excuse me. Earlier Derek mentioned his rival -- his cousin Josh -- apparently Peter’s sister-in-law’s kid. Here he mentions Laura had made out with Josh the previous Wolf Moon. Did Laura make out with their cousin?!?!?!?!?!? There’s no other Josh in this book. Like I get they’re not blood related if Josh is Peter’s sister-in-law’s kid (which lol okay bro) but what is happening here on this day?

Kate wants Derek to come home with her for privacy -- ew. So Derek calls Laura to negotiate. Hence the whole conversation about Laura making out with cousin Josh. Laura says “This is so you can do something slutty.” I deeply dislike this characterization of Laura.

And now we’re in Kate’s narration for the flashbacks. I need a shower after reading her thoughts. God, I hate Kate.

Holder goes into detail about her ideas on werewolves. It’s interesting. There’s competition for rank within the pack, challenges and rituals. I want to do a post specifically about it maybe, but I am offended on Talia Hale’s behalf here. It’s very focused on males. The automatic assumption that the Alpha is Derek’s father.

 I cannot say fuck Kate enough. “Some kids in high school are babies and others are all grown up, ready for the real world. Like you.” The classic manipulation tactic of oh but you’re so mature for your age or oh they’re such an old soul. 

Wishing Kate Argent a go ahead and die.

[spaceofentropy]

Brain Weasels! Assemble!

aka: @creepkinginc (hi, Nosho! 💙) tagged me in this thing that @thatoneao3author (hiiii!) concocted, and today the brain is braining the right way, so here we are! With a long long long thing. I made it Gallavich. Maybe if the brain keeps on braining right, tomorrow I'll do another version for another ship, who the heck knows! Not me!

So, the rules (more or less) are:

use this au generator to assign you an au, this fan fiction trope generator to give you a trope/situation/sometimes another au, feel free to keep clicking until you get something that inspires you.

then try to come up with the title, plot, vibe, and details of a fic including whatever the generators gave you. you don’t actually have to write it, just put the concept into the world! this is basically just a thought experiment.

The randomizing gods gave me a Hacker(s) AU and (after a couple of nope tropes, because I don't know shit about Regency, sorry, gods!) on New Year's Day soulmates switch bodies for 24 hours and have to try and figure out who the other person is so they can find them when the time is up.

Title: Words within the margin [I'm terrible at titles but make do with music 😎]

Plot: it's after the cut because it's long! 🫣

Mickey as our hacker. He doesn't think the whole soulmate thing will ever happen to him, so he is well beyond plastered when the New Year starts and the switch happens. He wakes up in a cabin somewhere in the fucking woods, not a car, let alone a road or even dirt path, near it. He's in the middle of fucking nowhere. Not happy about it. Oh, and this weirdo doesn't even have a cell phone or computer or anything like that in the cabin! And clearly he doesn't believe in mirrors. All that Mickey has are food, shelter, and books on psychology and mental illness. The best idea of this weirdo's face he gets from the lid of one of the pots in the kitchen: pale, redhead, greenish eyes maybe? Hard to tell from a lid. Great dick. And tall, holy fuck it's weird to be this tall, he keeps on bumping against stuff because he miscalculates spaces and distances.

Meanwhile, Ian does not wake up early and bright in the little cabin where he's taking a well deserved pause from the world and his job as a counsellor. Nope. It's well past midday and he's in a body that's super hangover, in an apartment that looks more like a computer repair shop than anything else. All the devices are password protected, even the couple of cell phones he finds. There are two wallets with two different sets of IDs for two different names. No paper mail or useful documents anywhere that he can find. The more he tries to pinpoint who this guy is from stuff in his house, the less he knows, aside from the fact he likes cheap beer, knives, and videogames.

Mickey spends most of his time in the cabin perusing the books, there are little notes here and there, the guy has a dorky sense of humor that makes him chuckle, but he also sprinkles here and there glimpses of bad experiences with doctors, with meds and treatments and healthcare providers that were not great.

Ian leaves the apartment to look for more clues about, at the very least, where this weirdo lives, but it's even worse, one of the neighbors catches him as he tries to steal someone's mail (it would have been such an easy way to get at least an address!) and he runs, not sure why but he just runs. Wanders an unknown town like many others, no idea where he is. Finds his way back to the building, he has a road name and a number, except there must be so many Washington Streets around... He spends hours looking at the weirdo's stuff, feeling like he's intruding just by being there, every moment less sure of wanting to know this guy. They are soulmates, apparently, but... he feels like he's stepping into a cheap spy story. Perfect stuff to further unbalance the already unsteady situation inside his brain. What if this guy is even crazier than him? There are so many weird thing, in his apartment and potentially his life... 

There's a phonecall to one of the phones, he answers hoping the person at the other end will say something useful, a name, a detail, something, but the girl only calls him fuckface and dickhead. A relative, judging by how, after a while, she gets worried when Ian doesn't answer the way she expected. He's debating whether to tell her that he's a visiting soulmate or not, when midnight strikes and he's thrown back into his body, in the cabin, with one of his books open in his hands and a note in a different handwriting than his in the corner.

Nice refuge you have here, Firecrotch. Bet I still can find you in a week or less. Hope you didn't make a mess at my place. Had no idea what to do with them, so take your meds, dude. M.

It takes Mickey 8 days to come knocking on the door to Ian's cabin, and only because he has to go to an office in person, they do all stuff on paper in Bumfuck County, Wherever It Is Ian's Cabin Is, damn neanderthals!

Less than twenty minutes after meeting him in person for the first time, Ian's doubt about Mickey are relegated to background noise. The universe might be right with this soulmates thing!

Yeah. I think that's it. That's what happens when the brain weasels latch onto an idea they like (and they LOVE soulmates) 🤷‍♀️

I'm supposed to tag people, but honestly I don't know if I have the bandwidth left for it. 🥲 If you read this and want to do it, you're welcome to! ❤️

[bubski-mcboo]

Dreaming of a Jodie Whittaker/Sophia Di Martino Goddess.

Okay, so I keep having this recurring dream and I need to share it.

I'm about to start some sort of presentation to a very sparse classroom. The stuff I've studied never really required any presentations, so this was new territory for me.

The classroom I'm in looks vaguely like one that was in use at Bournemouth and Poole College, only it has no windows.

I'm getting super stressed out about the presentation, which I'm woefully unprepared for, so I go to an adjoining room to work on it.

It is a dorm room belonging to me, also with no windows and with American prison vibes, but not something I worry about.

Everything has a green tinge to it as if we're in the matrix or the good omens version of hell.

(For the record, I don't think you *can* upgrade perfection like Jodie Whittaker or Sophia Di Martino.)

Then an older (but stunning) woman with an athletic build and a blonde bob comes to calm me down. She's probably only thirtyish but I think I'm probably late teens/early 20s in this dream.

Even though awake me doesn't know her, dream me does. She's on the staff at this imagined educational facility, almost certainly a teacher/lecturer. So clearly, she is 10000% my type, like an upgraded Jodie Whittaker/Sophia Di Martino with a touch of authority.

I'm writing a supporting character who seems a bit like her actually, only she's a gardener, not a teacher. Maybe a "mentor" figure.

When I wake up, she's asleep, and suddenly I realise that I need to cook something amazing for this goddess who is asleep in my bed even though I've just come out of surgery (apparently. I've fully recovered IRL.)

Anyway, this woman is calming me down, and then I realise that the vibe here isn't professional, it's friendly. Then it morphs from friendly to intimate - but not exactly sexual, although that boundary is wafer thin. I get nervous for non-educational reasons, because this woman is waaaay out of my league, and yet she's giving me strong vibes. It's as if she thinks we're already in a relationship and forgot to tell me. Not that I mind.

At this point, that green tinge to everything is gone. She convinces me, without words, to snuggle down on my bed, and obviously, I'm super-duper okay with that.

So I vault into my kitchen, which is apparently joined by a window and not a door, just as Jodie Di Martino gets a phone call that sounds more like an alarm. The volume is so loud that I hear the entire conversation;

Phone: "Hello, we need your password to complete your request for - "

Blonde goddess: "Oh right, you still remember me from the tower-"

Phone: *interrupts with urgent yelling*

BG: "Yeah, yeah, it's *****" (a username I used at school)

It's at this point I wake up, feeling very concerned that I'd left this remarkable woman in a Fallout 4 sort of situation with sub-par food that I hadn't even had time to cook for her. My last sleepy thought is, "But she can look after herself," and a part of me knows that she can kick ass, even though I don't know how I know.

I don't find this strange, still intent on cooking for this wonderful woman; which tracks because its one of my love languages.

For some reason, I'm looking in the cupboard under the sink, which isn't somewhere I store food items.

The kitchen looks vaguely like my ex's parent's old kitchen (second boyfriend), except it looks rather rusty and abandoned.

I realise the only food I have is baked beans in rusty cans - the label on them is the old white "tesco value" brand which was a callback to impoverished living at the end of secondary school - though I've never let a kitchen nor tins of food go rusty like that. I suddenly felt like I was in a post-apocalypse situation

After waking up, I realise I've seen this woman before in many other dreams. Every time, she's pretty keen on snuggling even though that isn't a thing she generally does with people.

[marksloan]

woah, can you tell us what happened with your dad and aunt? and how buzzfeed wanted to help? i am so curious

oh lord this is a story and a half. i can't believe i've actually never spoken about this before??

if you want a story about a messy family, buzzfeed unsolved being like aight yeah this is sus we want to help out, and my dwindling sanity, this is all going to be under the cut~

also side note, i have receipts of most things because we were terrified that my dad was going to gaslight about everything which, eventually, he did. we also knew that a lot of things were going to be deleted off of the internet for reasons we didn't know, so this is why i have a lot of shit just lying around omg. i literally sat here and watched every piece of evidence get deleted as i refreshed the page so this is the best i can do

TD;LR: we found out that my dad had a secret twin sister and he did everything he could to hide her from us alongside her mysterious death.

a few years ago, i started doing ancestry so i could find my family history and one thing lead to another and i found out that my aunt on my dad's side had also made a tree. while going through the birth records for births in the same area/time frame as my dad's birth, i found that there was a second kid listed under a mother with the same last name AND maiden name (because they list both the father and the mother's last name) alongside the same area code. this was super weird because neither name is super common and it was just a little too weird.

(name blocked out because ohhh boy this is supposed to be a sensitive family issue LMAO)

(here's some receipts of me messaging a friend on facebook because this whole situation is insane and i feel like i need to back myself up bc not even i'd believe myself omg)

flash forward to me going onto my aunt's family tree and finding out that she'd listed this random woman as my dad's twin sister. beyond sketch. we have never heard of this random woman and, when i mentioned it to my mother a few weeks later, she had no idea about it either, although, after a few days, she did recall a conversation she'd had with my uncle (my dad's older sister's husband) when my parents had just started dating. she said that he'd made a comment about my dad and just jokingly said 'oh, it's like a twin thing' and, very confused, my mum had played along. she hadn't thought much about it until i was sat there showing her screenshots of some random woman on my aunt's family tree. basically, she was fairly sure that it was right just from the genuine vibe of that side of the family, they're ex-military and very secretive and we've always got the feeling that something was a bit off.

she told me not to mention it to my dad and like a dumbass i did. i told him about the random woman on this family tree and he was PISSED. he told me that it was wrong and that 'it was easy to get lost and find the wrong people', despite being an account that was actively linked to his older sister's facebook account, and i decided to drop it. my dad can make your life hell when he wants to and i just left it alone.

but then my sister got involved oml. she picked right where i left off during quarantine in the summer and immediately dove right into this twin sister mystery. she discovered that this woman had died in the 90's, right before my parents got together, right in the vicinity that my dad's family moved (which, if you remember, they're military so they basically moved around the uk a lot. for someone who was originally was born in the north of the uk to randomly turn up and die in the most specific, random southern town was more than a coincidence.) however, my sisters ability to investigate extended a lot more than I did; she actually messaged my aunt over facebook and asked about this mystery woman that.

it didn't go well.

at the same time, she started tweeting about it on twitter and jokingly started saying 'oh maybe buzzfeed unsolved would be interested?'. this all happened around a week after aria uploaded his first(?) video investigating his father's best friend disappearing. i'm not sure what drove my sister to message aria but she eventually sent him a message on instagram and he (somehow???) responded and was very interested in helping us with our little family mystery.

this is what he sent my sister in response to her DMS.:

basically, this woman was impossible to trace. she only had a birth certificate and a death certificate, which in itself is very weird because in the uk you can at least follow people around the country with the regular census.

when my sister messaged my aunt we noticed that my dad was getting a lot of text messages constantly while he was out in the garden. we were deadass sat there listening to his phone just ping over and over. so my sister (like a stan twitter psychopath) decided to reset her twitter password, of which was linked to my dads phone and ended up actually going through his text messages.

i can't find the sc (my sister got a new insta account and it's what she sent me all the scs through) but if i remember rightly she sent him a message that was like: they're asking about [insert nickname for the twin sister] what should i say? and my dad I SHIT YOU NOT answered with i'll handle it. like I'm sorry sir is this an action movie? ur a taxi driver not james bond sit the fuck down.

(EDIT I FOUND IT IN A FACEBOOK CONVO)

f(he also, notably, lied to us and said that his sister had all of the family photos ~~~ imagine the way my ass fell out of my stomach when i read these text messages.)

we mentioned aria to my mum and explained how he might be able to help but she was very against it. instead, she took me and my sister out for dinner when quarantine eased (cmon eat to help out) and sent my dad a thick ass paragraph. i can't remember what it said for sure but there was something like 'do you want to be remembered as a liar by your kids because they're either going to find out the truth now or after your dead? its your choice xoxo'. god I'm so excited for the therapy I'm going to need in twenty years about my trust issues.

basically he admitted that it was true, but only over text message. he didn't give us any information, nor will he admit it in person or even speak about it. we know nothing other than the fact that this woman caused a lot of family drama and probably trauma and that they refuse to talk about her due to something she did to my grandmother (who as you can tell from the ancestry sc above, is long deceased.) basically this whole thing was a shit show and eventually aria agreed that there were too many messy factors, mental health and privacy etc.

there's a lot more involved surprisingly that i had to condense into this post but hopefully that explains it a bit. like i said, i'm beyond excited for this to cripple my ability to trust my family and men in particular and i'm just so excited for the therapy I'm going to need!

[castiowl]

i am so close to going full tanya harding on my psych practice’s knee so i just need to rant

first of all i’ve had 9 fucking MH professionals to deal with medication management in the last 2 years. NINE. the longest i had one was for about 7 months, which thankfully was the first one i had after my mental health crisis in 2019 so i was at least able to get my meds figured out and be pretty stable before the fucking Great Psychiatry Exodus where every single provider decided to leave the fucking practice they were at after one (1) whole session with me.

the last three i had, i told them my bad luck with providers and how they all leave the practice and i swear to god all 3 of them said “oh haha well i’m not leaving any time soon!” and then they left LMFAOO

the last 2 i had were from the same practice so i decided to switch to a different practice. especially after my most recent provider was only there for 6 months before leaving. clearly something weird going on.

new practice seems great. easy to use website and so easy to set up an appt. had my first appt, once again stressing that i’ve not had the same provider twice in a row in a year and a half now. provider was super nice and was like wow! that sucks! well i’m not going anywhere :-)

i get an email before my second appt saying i have $250 to pay still from my first session and if i don’t pay it, the appt will be canceled. what the fuck. then i figure out they don’t have my correct insurance information which is partially on me, but i always forget what falls under major medical vs behavioral health because i have two different insurances for those. so i call and explain and give them the correct info. i guess it was on me for not confirming that my appt wouldn’t be canceled….but i show up for my appt (online waiting room) and my provider is online but she never connects with me. i waited a full 45 mins and then she signs off. i was like ??? okay???

so i call the office and they’re like oh your appt was canceled because you didn’t pay. so first of all 1) you didn’t tell me the appt was canceled. fuck you for that. would’ve been nice to receive a fucking email or something so i don’t show up like a jackass 2) i explained that i called to fix the problem so what the fuck? and 3) now i’m out of medication so i need to see a provider…

(also just fucking annoying that my provider could clearly see i was signed in/waiting for her in the waiting room and didn’t bother to just send me a quick IM saying hey your appt was canceled! just let me sit there for a fucking hour)

office person is like well her next appt isn’t until july 26 (this appt was july 6) and i was like fucking great let’s do it. they sent me to the nurse to ask about medication. had to leave a message. whatever.

i ended up just paying the $250 because i didn’t want THIS appt to be canceled too. i figured once the claim went through i’d be refunded but i haven’t been home and my behavioral health insurance does everything through snail mail in the year 2021 :-)

i get a call from the nurse and she’s like oh yeah we can refill your Rx no problem so like finally some good news. but then i say i’m in florida and could they send it to the walgreens down here? and she’s like ohhhh we don’t send meds across state lines usually so i’ll have to ask your provider. excuse me? so no client can go on vacation for longer than their medicine allows? literally how is that okay? besides the fact that where i pick up my meds is none of their business. literally. like i could’ve had them send it to the walgreens in VA and then call walgreens to transfer it for me and they’d be none the wiser (i ended up doing this for one med because i was so over it). anyway. got my meds. it’s all good.

so my second appt rolls around today. everything is great. the balance was paid. i received a call friday confirming the appt.

however. lol. the portal they have stopped letting me log into the desktop version. my phone is fine. zero problems. but the exact same user name password on desktop says it’s wrong. i swear i checked it like 30 times. didn’t work. so i was like okay whatever i’ll just go straight to my provider’s online waiting room. i did so. logged in there. waiting. ten minutes past the appt i was like…..i swear to fucking god if they canceled on my and didn’t tell me again i’m gonna commit a crime. call the office. apparently if you’re on hold for more than 5 mins, they send you to voicemail. fuck that. i just called again. i get a person. yay.

i ask if she’s running late or w/e and the office person says i didn’t confirm the appt by logging into the patient portal. are you fucking kidding me? i haven’t received an email about this july 26 appt at all, let alone one telling me i need to do XYZ to confirm an appt. the phone call i got confirming the appt didn’t say to call back or go online. i literally had to hunt through my browser history just to find her waiting room address. (after logging into the portal after all this shit, there isn’t even a fucking link to the waiting room anywhere so idk where i was supposed to find that without already just knowing it).

i explain all this, how the portal isn’t working on desktop anyway (i literally put a note in my phone about it) and i was IN the waiting room on time so what the fuck. and the office person very helpfully was like oh well she can call you if there are any cancellations. okay. whatever. but i’m out of meds today so…. office person very shittily says “i will let her know” with this fucking tone like i’m the one who dropped the ball here. jesus fucking christ.

look folks i barely want to be alive as it is but having to fucking fight tooth and nail just to talk to a person so i can get the meds that make me not die is like. A FUCKING joke. i am the least flakey person ever and i look like an insane person who can’t do basic tasks to this clinic because their shit is so fucked up.

all this on top of the fact that my therapist is just. idk. the vibes have been way off and i just miss my old therapist so goddamn much especially with life returning to normal w covid and hey my dog has cancer! i’m just ready to throw in the towel.

[evolsinner]

⊱┊7

with the moment past {definitely not mentally}, i make my way to the lounge.

“hey, rosé?”

i see him seated on a 3 seat sofa.

a, i hope he didn’t see the way i shaved my hair down there into a love heart... b, he def saw my boobies!!

“y~yes, mr killian?”

“you hungry or something? i can order you some pizza.”

hell, i’m famished, can’t remember the last time i ate.

“no, aha…”

“you sure?”

“actually, yeah, i am, a little... sorry if that’s an inconvenience.”

“no, not at all! don’t be silly. i’m starving.”

i restrict a smile.

“here,” he shifts to the side, patting the middle seat, “make yourself comfortable. i’ll order some now.”

i place his hoody on the armrest and sit on the other end instead; don’t have it in me to sit right next to him. we would be like idk touching and whatnot. amongst the remote and his wallet, he grabs his phone from the middle seat, dialling a number.

“pineapple on pizza?” he faces me, holding the phone to his ear.

i fucking love pineapple on pizza.

“100%,” i reply confidently.

he grins.

i have just found my soulmate.

i admire how laid back he looks: his white untucked dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to reveal thick veins and a dark tan, tie tossed on the table. is this how every male teacher looks after work?

‘cause, yummy!

“takeaway. one large vegetarian and one large hawaiian...with extra pineapple, please,” sir glances at me adorably. “cheers, sweetheart,” he hangs up after giving his number and address for the order. “should be here in 40 mins,” he informs me, “catch,” and tosses the remote at me. “pick a movie. make it a good one. i’m gonna go freshen up quickly.”

can i come?

-ˋˏ ༻🍷༺ ˎˊ-

i struggle to find a goddamn movie!

sir’s phone vibrates and i look across at it. why does that thing be buzzing and ringing all the time? i mean... hmm… i lean all the way back, peeping down the hallway. i listen to see if the shower is still on.

🚿pshhshhshhshhshhshh

oh good, it’s still on. i sneakily pick up his orange google pixel 4 xl mobile phone. okay, let’s see, what’s his passcode? says his pin contains at least four digits. hmm...

1 2 3 4

incorrect pin entered

4 3 2 1

incorrect pin entered

6 9 6 9

incorrect pin entered

his birth year, maybe?

1 9 8 1

incorrect pin entered

it’s definitely mine, then.

2 0 0 0

try again in 30 seconds

fuck, what is it?!

now i’m adamant.

a while later, i listen for the shower again. no sound. fuck me! i also haven’t even picked a movie yet! i grasp the remote and quickly flip through the movies. in ‘newly added’ a film that goes by the name ‘barefoot’ {2014} appears. this’ll do. i haphazardly click on it, put his phone back in the middle seat and swiftly bring my knees up on the sofa.

bathroom door opens and mr killian returns, setting himself down.

and ohhhh boy, oh jesus h. christ, he is wearing grey sweatpants. grey. sweatpants. oh my goddddddd!!!!

🎵dun da daaaaa! dunda dunda da dun dadada oo oo oooooo dun da da

i cringe, really should have skipped the first 10 mins or something.

sir looks at me with an amused expression, “just started?”

i nod, embarrassed.

then he cracks up a little, “how long did it take for you to pick a film?”

“i paused it, was waiting for you.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

“alrighty then,” he slumps down, letting me get away with the white lie. “this better be good or else you’re held accountable.”

the professional teacher’s vibe is disappearing and transforming into a perky one.

he’s wearing a loose t~shirt with long sleeves and it’s even rolled up. his hair is damp and floppy, making him so much more attractive. he runs his hands through it, flipping it back as the stray droplets of water roll down his neck. i would gladly lick them off for him if he doesn’t mind...

“why’s my phone locked for 60 minutes?”

“huh?” i snap out of my daydream.

“my phone, why’s it locked?”

*ding dong.*

“maybe...you put the wrong password in?”

“pretty sure i didn’t, and you’re the only other person in this house, no?”

*ding dong!*

“aha..ha,” i giggle nervously.

“does it look like i’m laughing?” he asks me condescendingly.

my smile disappears.

*ding dong! ding dong! ding dong! ding dong!*

“ight, i’m coming!!” sir shouts, grabbing his wallet. “..jesus christ, break my damn doorbell, will you..” he mutters under his breath angrily.

bit hot...

-ˋˏ ༻🍷༺ ˎˊ-

i only ate 2 slices of pizza so i wouldn’t look like a fat bitch in front of sir. he, however, didn’t even eat any. so much for being ‘starving’. he was just casually watching me eat. i could feel his eyes on me each time i took a bite and the odd olive or pineapple went rolling down into my lap. it was so awkward!

we’re halfway through the movie and i felt the need to say something because jay, the character, was such a jerk.

“i mean, it’s actually rather heartbreaking. daisy was locked away for most of, if not, her whole life. and now she is finally free, finally able to experience the pleasures of the real world. she put all of her trust in him and he abandoned her. that’s so not cool.”

as i’m analysing the film, i feel his eyes analysing me.

“well, you can’t blame him,” sir counterattacks. “jay had his own life, his own problems to deal with. she was just another added problem to that.”

“then he should’ve led her back to the hospital again instead of taking her on this joyride purely for his own greed.”

“remember, she chose to take part.”

“he was being selfish.”

“he was lending her a hand.”

“which is what ultimately made her fall in love with him in the first place,” i state like a full stop.

sir’s whole face just speaks wow. “so why didn’t you do my analysis homework then, huh?”

“because it’s boring,” i look him boldly in the eyes, his slicked back hair has me feelin’ oozy and woozy.

“oh, it’s boring?” he emphasises, raising his eyebrows. “is that so?”

“yup,” i purse my lips.

“what was it again?” he grabs my arm, pulling me into his lap. “‘boring’, did you say?”

i’m trying to escape and he’s trying to hold me still. gradually, our laughter dies out and we become aware, so much more aware.

“got some on your mouth,” he says in the heat of the moment, running his thumb over my bottom lip.

there was definitely no pizza sauce or whatever on my mouth, but i play my part. somehow, his thumb finds its way inside my mouth and i instinctively wrap my tongue around it. his green eyes glimmer like shiny marbles as he watches me

suck

on his

thumb.

i feel pressure underneath me, something building up in stiffness. i shift his hand away, glancing down and then back up again. his marble eyes, they just look at me. look through me.

no way in hell did i imagine this moment to actually happen. i mean, most of us girls had these insane crushes on teachers, but never did i think it’d unravel like this.

he firmly places his hand on my lower backside and pushes me closer to himself. “what, you scared now?” he whispers, dominance combined with confidence, topped off with lust.

i gulp, trying to sound brave, “and why would i be scared?”

“you should be,” he replies.

i am lost for words. this kind of intimidation is seductive. all i wanna do is kiss him! though i won’t make the same mistake of glancing at his lips twice.

he speaks in a soft tone, “has anyone ever told you how captivating your~”

“my eyes are?” i finish his cliché line off for him.

“...your lips,” he corrects, casting his gaze down at them.

i bite my bottom lip, flustered for acting like a smartass.

“you know, on some occasions, i’ve noticed that you bite your lip when you’re nervous. it’s cute,” he grins, “i like it more than i should,” and waits patiently for me to fall into his devilish trap.

believe me when i say i’m trying goddamn hard to not sink my teeth into my flesh! which is why i replace it with a mere innocent gulp.

“but on most occasions, you gulp,” he says as i’m gulping.

he removes the hair from my neck.

i get hella anxious, hella aroused so i..

“nuh~uh,” he shakes his head and pulls my bottom lip down with the pad of his thumb. “‘nough biting from you, sweetheart. those are mine to bite now.”

am i dreaming right now?

i try to reposition myself by moving a little back so that i’m not directly on him. as i do this, his erection rubs further into me and i slightly moan kinda too evidently. my eyes open super wide and i instantly shut my mouth. it surprises me that it doesn’t faze him one bit.

“your t~t~thing is p~poking me..” i gesture with my eyes to his manhood.

his orbs shine like someone has stabbed an apocalyptic emerald sunset multiple times. it’s glorifying. magical. the stuff dreams are made from. and instead, he pushes me further down onto his sculpture. he leans his head in, his mouth millimetres away from mine.

“and do you like it?” he questions seriously.

our noses touch, our lips brush...

“answer the question.”

“yes,” i squeak. “i like it.”

i try to remain as calm as possible, but it’s impossible due to the nerves causing havoc inside me, particularly the nerves between my thighs. i don’t know what to focus on. that mouth? his eyes? or down below...

“may i let something be known, luv?” sir requests politely.

i nod.

“i can see your tits...through that shirt...” he whispers sexily.

my breath hitches up.

kiss me! why won’t he kiss me? just fucking kiss me! shit, it’s impossible not to look. i give in and look at his lips. the corners curve slightly into a wayward grin. i see... he wants me to initiate it.

welp, sorry, no can do, mister.

he literally places my bottom lip between his teeth and lightly tugs at it, his breaths hitting my mouth like rose petals. this act is enormously enticing, but i know he’s teasing me.

my turn.

i purposely grind in his lap and he suppresses a hoarse groan. then he scoffs. very conceited. he’s so gonna lose. i keep my lips impossibly close to his for when he forfeits which should be right about...now.

he shakes his head smugly.

i frown, pouting.

he half~smiles adorably.

fine, i have a better idea. one he doesn’t see cumming coming.

i lift away the waistband of my borrowed sweatpants and grip his hand. his body automatically tenses up. i can feel him getting harder from just the thoughts i’m giving him. i bring his hand closer to me. he’s losing and it’s hella entertaining to watch.

unexpectedly, a phone goes off and i jump in fright. i rapidly get off him and he returns to his usual, rigid ways. he aggressively clears his throat before answering that stupid device.

whilst pacing up and down and holding his forehead, he stares at me intently like i’m that fucking maths problem again!

[mon-dayragingslut4monstaxday6]

See You (Part 1)

See You

A/N: This is the beginning of something beautiful. There will be fluff, angst and smut, but we have to start somewhere. There are no warnings, just really cute. 2.5k words.

@ckyunoirs​, @to-all-the-stories-i-love​, @kpop---scenarios​(you’ll see why). Let me know if you want to be added!❤️

I sit at the dinner table with my sister, staring at my bowl of soup. The soup is delicious, but with the amount of effort we put in, I lost my appetite. Dammit, but the smell hitting my nostrils is making my mouth salivate.

“Are you going to eat or are you just going to stare?”, Bailey mumbles, tapping the table to get my attention. I take a spoonful of soup and embrace the feeling of hard work being paid off.

“I’m just distracted”, I sigh before dipping a roll into the broth.

“By?”, Bailey wonders.

“This guy I’m talking to”, I take a big bite out of my roll.

“You’re still talking to that Korean guy? He seems like bad news”, she scoffs.

“How? He hasn’t gotten weird yet”, I shrug.

“Yet”, she points out.

“I’m thinking about asking him to show his face”, I bow my head in shame. Instead of choking on her soup, which is what I imagined, she calmly swirls her spoon.

“Do you think you’re ready for that?”, she turned sincere.

“It’s not like we’re dating. We make small talk, but nothing farther than a friendship level”, I shrug.

“Could you see yourself being with this guy?”, she turns giggly.

“I couldn’t say. We get along great, but I could definitely see us being friends”, I turn my visual focus to my soup.

“What if he’s hot”, she gasps. I can feel my cheeks start to warm up.

“He won’t be, stop”, I bashfully mumble.

“But what if he likes you! You’re stunning, he will absolutely adore you”, she adds, hyping up the vibe.

“You’re making me blush”, I hide my smile.

“Oh honey. If you’re blushing now, you’ll be a mess when you see his face”, she pokes fun. Shit, she’s right. I will be a mess.

“Should I just ask for a selfie or could he just catfish me?”, I groan.

“He will probably catfish if you ask for a selfie. Just FaceTime him. If you get uncomfortable, just click out of it. You don’t owe him anything”, she points to my phone. I take a few more spoonfuls of my soup and pick up my phone.

“I’m going to schedule a FaceTime session with him”, I inhale.

“And may he be a creepy gross man who is just using those apps to get sweet naive girls like my dumbass sister”, my sister toasts. I clink and swig my drink.

“But what if he is hot”, I worry. “Then snatch that fucker”, she shamelessly sips her drink. I nearly choke on my soup.

“How would I do that?”, I egg her on.

“Send him a photo of your tits, ass, and thighs and he will be crawling all over you”, she points to my features.

“What if he’s taken?”, I gasp. I never realized I never asked if he was single. The topic never came up!

“Then why is he texting you”, she winks.

“For tutoring”, I assert.

“Tutoring to get in your pants more like”, she continues to give me the side eye.

“He’s not like that”, I scoff.

“Yet”, she scrunches her face.

I unlock my phone and message him good morning.

Min: Good evening to you, Sophie!

I need to get a grip. It’s just asking for a video chat, no big deal. Oh goodness, I never thought that maybe he would say no.

Me: I was wondering if you would want to video chat.

Min: You wonder what I look like?

Son of a bitch, he’s smarter than I thought.

Me: Yes. Are you not curious about me?

Min: I am.

My heart is pounding. I need to eat my soup to calm my nerves.

Me: We don’t have to video chat if you don’t want to.

I put my phone down to compose my thoughts and refocus on my soup.

“What is he saying?”, Bailey teases.

“He asked me if I wonder what he looks like and I said yes and I asked him if he wonders what I look like and he said yes”, I calmly recite the messages. I hear my phone buzz and I don’t have the strength to pick it up.

“Eat and then message him. It’s still morning over there anyway”, she shoos my phone away. I follow the advice, because my stomach is growling from neglect. I eat the rest of my soup and roll in peace, collecting thoughts about what this video chat would be like. Obviously, it will be awkward. A solid two minutes of us saying hi and waving, trying to think on what to say.

I feel mildly shameful for getting to know this one guy I met online. I’ve been using some apps to tutor Korean’s English, getting some extra cash at my own pace. There was this one guy who frequently requested tutoring. Out of all of the people I tutored, he made the best progress, but he still has a long way to go. He innocently asked for my WhatsApp, to have better contact with me. Being naive, I gave him my contact information. When I realized what I did, I guaranteed that once the conversation drifts to something explicit, I’ll immediately block him. He never gave the impression that he would be like that, but we only talked about tutoring and typical conversation translations.

It’s been a couple of weeks or so since we started casually messaging. I learned he’s an artist, a weakness of mine. He sent me photos of some of his work and his simplistic style is very visually pleasing, very tranquil. I knew that when I told him that I’m a fellow artist, our conversations will shift. Suddenly, we can relate to each other, something I wanted to avoid.

He hasn’t asked me what I looked like yet, something I’m personally surprised by, but I’m going to take the plunge and finally see him. It’s not like I would stop talking to him if he’s ugly, I just don’t know what I will do if he’s pretty.

Having the soup settle in my tummy, I pick up my phone.

Min: I want to. I’m afraid you will think of me differently if you see me.

Me: How come?

The wait for a reply is making me anxious. To take my attention away from my phone, I wash my dishes in the sink.

“Sophie. We have a dishwasher”, Bailey points to the dishwasher right next to me.

“I need to keep busy”, I huff.

“It’s just a boy. Schedule a video chat then go to bed”, she laughs at my anguish.

“What if he’s pretty Bailey!”, I jokingly whine.

“Then good for you! That means you have a pretty friend. There is nothing weird with having a pretty friend”, Bailey explains.

“You’re right. You’re right”, I acknowledge as I stack my dishes on the drying rack. I hear my phone ding and Bailey and I exchanged glances.

“Don’t do it. Keep busy and put the food away”, Bailey warns. Without hesitation I grab some deep tupperware from the cupboard to store the soup. I hear a giggle from the dining room. Peaking over my shoulder and Bailey is reading the message preview on my phone screen.

“Bailey!”, I gasp.

“You’re getting catfished”, she cackles.

“Why, what did he say?”, I pout my lip.

“He claims he’s a model”, she laughs. I try not to roll my eyes.

“Then he sent you a link to his instagram”, she continues.

“Did you open it?”, I wonder.

“I need your password”, she catches her breath from laughing.

“Give me a second while I put the food away”, I gesture to the kitchen counter. Could he really be catfishing me? He wouldn’t. Would he? It’s not like I know the guy. Stop imagining, get your act together!

I pour the soup in a couple of containers, enough for Bailey and I to have our own large bowl.

“I’ll wash the pot, go talk to your man”, she cackles, switching places with me. I unlock my phone and see a swarm of messages.

Min: I’m afraid you will recognize me. I do modeling so a lot of my photos are styled.

Min: You can see my Instagram. If you don’t believe it, we can still video chat.

Min: I would very much like to see you.

He sends me a link to his Instagram and I already don’t know how to feel about it. Only thirty-four posts but over six hundred thousand followers but following none. That sounds suspicious. I see some selfies and my phone drops out of my hands. That can’t be him. He can’t be that pretty. He can’t!

“Bailey, I fucked up. He’s pretty”, I cry out.

“He could use someone else's face. Facetime him. I dare you”, Bailey aggressively points.

“Should I send him my Instagram?”, I mumble.

“No, leave the mystery”, she winks at me.

Me: Is that really you on Instagram?

Min: Sorry I’ve been hiding it from you.

Me: That didn’t answer my question haha

Min: It is me. Can I see yours?

Me: Let’s video chat. I’m probably too ugly for you.

Min: Doubt it. I’m sure you’re beautiful.

Don’t blush. Don’t blush. Don’t blush. I was going to wait to video call him, but I can’t wait any longer. I need to see him.

Me: Could you video chat now? Just for a few minutes?

Min: Sure!

“Bailey, it’s happening”, I panic. Bailey stops what she’s doing and blankly stares at me.

“Stay calm. Nothing to worry about. It’s just a boy. Go to your room, get comfortable. Say hi and ask him about his day”, Bailey walks me through this.

“If he starts acting weird. Hang up”, her voice turns worrisome.

“If he asks you to get naked, hang up”, she continues to list possible scenarios.

“Wouldn’t that be under acting weird?”, my voice trembles. She shrugs.

“If he’s naked, definitely hang up”, she adds.

“Enough. I’m going”, I exclaim, rushing to my bedroom. Looking in the mirror, goodness how did I let my skin look so bad! It’s fine, it’s fine. It’s just one video call. One. I half ass my skin care routine, skipping some steps. My phone buzzes, a message from Min. He sent me his info to video call him. What the fuck am I wearing! I swiftly change into my favorite comfy sweater. First impressions matter and he needs to see me as cute as possible! I leap onto my bed, sitting up against the headboard.

Min: Are you ready or do you want to reschedule?

Me: No, I’m ready!

Setting up the according video chatting app, I squirm nervously, imagining every scenario possible. He could be a creeper who tries to traffick girls. He could be some weird old guy who catfishes as a handsome young man to get sugar babies. He could not be a catfish but has a girlfriend and he’s doing this as a way to cheat. I need to stop this negativity. He could be a perfectly normal guy who likes making friends.

Dialing. Ringing. Ringing. Ringing. I hide my face with my sleeve. I can’t bear seeing him. The ringing stops. There’s some shuffling.

“Sophie?”, I hear a sweet, soft, slightly feminine voice. His little laugh makes my heart flutter. His laugh sounds genuine, from his diaphragm, kind of breathy. I sneak a peek and he’s as beautiful as his Instagram. He has very kissable lips. There’s a sparkle in his eyes that I can easily escape in. He is a living Disney prince.

“Hi, Minhyuk”, I wave while keeping one hand over my face.

“Why are you hiding?”, he can’t stop smiling. His accent is pretty strong, but he did work hard on his English.

“I’m shy”, I mindlessly confess. He jokingly pouts.

“It’s ok, it’s just me”, he comforts. I lower my hand, but keep myself wrapped in the sweater. He grins from cheek to cheek, showing his pearly whites. His cheekbones couldn’t be more pronounced. He hasn’t done or said anything for a couple of seconds, is he frozen?

“Minhyuk?”, I ask.

“How are you this beautiful?”, he chuckles.

“Huh?”, my jaw drops.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?”, Minhyuk continues. I sweater paw to hide my cheeky grin.

“Stop it”, I bashfully look away.

“No, you are beautiful. I can’t believe you’re real”, he cackles. I gasp.

“Me?! You’re the model!”, I exclaim, laughing hard enough for me to snort. I can’t believe I snorted in the time talking to a guy. His laugh is comforting.

“You’re so cute”, he compliments.

“I’m not cute”, I pout, crossing my arms. A smile has yet to leave his face. Is this going well?

“Yes, you are”, he scrunches his nose. Oh my goodness, don’t do that again or else I will actually fall apart.

“What are you doing today?”, I change the subject, hoping for a casual conversation.

“I got schedules, a full day of work. What did you do today? Did you eat?”, he gets the hint. He changes his sitting position to be more comfortable.

“I just had some good soup. Work was rough today, but I have tomorrow off”, my eyes lock onto his.

“What are you doing tomorrow?”, he tilts his head slightly.

“Going shopping”, I casually guess.

“Will you message me while you shop?”, he mumbles. I notice his eyes blink irregularly.

“Yes”, I nod. Minhyuk looks offscreen and his face shifts from a smile to a more relaxed look.

“One second, please”, he whispers to the screen. I hear a muffled man’s voice offscreen. Minhyuk converses with the person obviously in his room. His voice in Korean is even more attractive than his English voice. Not saying his English voice isn’t attractive, it’s very attractive. Hell, everything about him is attractive. How is he real? How did the universe maneuver it’s way for us to find each other? How does he find me beautiful? I don’t understand it. I’m so fascinated by his face and his voice. I want to know more about him. I’d love to paint with him through video chatting. What am I going to say to Bailey when this is over? I’ll tell her the truth. Minhyuk looks over at me and catches me absentmindedly staring.

“Sophie?”, he laughs to get my attention, knocking me out of my trance.

“I have to get ready for the day. I can call you when you wake up”, he pouts.

“Oh, yeah! Sure, I’ll message you when I’m awake”, I smile.

“Sleep well and sweet dreams. I’ll talk to you tomorrow”, he sweetly waves.

“Have a good day at work, be safe and eat good food”, I kindly wave. He scrunches his nose one more time before hanging up. I plop my phone next to me so I can melt onto my blankets.

There’s a knock on my door.

“Come in”, I welcome. Bailey peaks her head in and laughs at me fully spread out on my bed.

“How was it?”, she shows her curiosity.

“Amazing”, I sigh in disappointment. I could talk to him for hours when we message, I can’t even imagine how long we would video chat.

“Was he pretty?”, Bailey continues.

“Gorgeous”, I whine. She squeals. 

“What did he think of you?”, she gasps. I turn over to lay on my stomach.

“He called me beautiful and cute”, I scream into my pillow.

[elliethesuperfruitlover]

ellie livewatches the night manager ep. 2

forgot to mention, but this intro is bussin’

drugs? (with a rolled r)

ah shit, we’ve got a bad relationship with a parent

DAMN-

well thats just a bit rude

girlie you need therapy

omg the little boy from wonder...JACK WILL, thats who he played

god she’s tall

ooh, i’ve never made paella before, nor tried it

my brother got to drive a boat once lol. that was the first time i ever saw dolphins

ah yes, rich people shit

thats a nice lil table

you see, i’ve tried veal, (deer) in sausage form and it A. tasted weird and B. was dryas fuck. i’ll have it again, but maybe like with rice, mixed in, like i sometimes do with ground beef. it was very lean lol.

DONT GIVE THE CHILD ALCOHOL-

i mean.....he’s gulping that shit my lord

remember kids, always make sure you’ve got some water on hand, as well as food in your stomach before drinking xx (or so i’ve heard)

hehe, STOP

ooh, i do adore mr. groff’s laugh though

awwwwwww. this is a very cute moment.

w-was she a little kiddie?

like, not 5 years old, but like a MINOR, um..hmm

oh shit

BACK OFF, BITCH YOU HAVE A CHILD IN YOUR ARM WITH A GUN CLOSE TO HIS HEAD, FUCK OFF

RUN GODDAM IT, RUN AFTER THEM

i’ll be damned if i dont run after MY kid, or someone in my family if they’ve been kidnapped.

also, this may not be EVERY KID.

but i’d be looking for weapons left and right to hurt this person, straight up. any type of exits, im looking for them. all of that.

poor baby

oh, we’re going back this time.

some backstory ehhehehehe

ah, attached memories i see

this is worrying, just a bit. my god.

JUST LIKE THAT.

i feel like he could’ve done that a bit better.

cameras???

yo why tf didn’t he day “who is it?” before opening the damn door.

i want a tea n’ biscuit too goddamn

um.........i dont know if i could do this, personally. i really couldnt. maybe im too sensitive for it lol.

jesus christ, another murder

ugh yes, he can ride motorcycles. hells yeah

THE SHADES

well thats a bit of a rude shock

thats even worse goddamn

IM SCARED

HE WAS SO SMOOTH WITH IT

GOTDAMN-

ewwww more roper

look at him go

in case yall didnt know, im VERY anti-capitalist, anti-capitalism, all that shit

this dude is just grossing me out

i miss being on my bike lol

yayyy he can cook

RIP to her at that point

i take it back.

welp.

no, actually, rip to her.

i love watching people’s eyes dilate. one of the things that i really enjoy learning about is genetics, and how different traits come about. it’s one of my favorite things. he’s got such pretty eyes too, it makes this all the better.

DAMN, PUT A PASSWORD ON YOUR PHONE

whomst the fuck was that

AYYY SHE MADE IT

he did a good pitch, if i say so myself.

ooh, a history between the two

OOOH PLOT........IT THICKENS BESTIES

thats a fair reason

i know his ass is scared

that reminded me of the one scene in family guy where stewie beats brian’s ass for not having his money. im talking blood and broken glass fighting, mind you.

UH OH

im scared

W H A T

god i hate this

OOH SHIT

i have never seen this man be this upset dear lord-

im scared of him

oh no-

wheres the body?? who’s body was it?

well fahk me innit

PERIODTTTTTT

STAY STRAPPED BITCHESSSS

damn....das hot

THIS WAS PLANNED

oh, not the pot

NOT THE FACE

..........oh lord

god, how long has he been there, and how long did it take them to get there?

im not a medical professional, but ehhh that blood looks fairly clotted, like...kinda.

idk.

damn he’s in rough shape

GET THE KID AWAY FROM THE SCENE

corky my beloved

bro wtf, this is SO TERRIFYING

woahhhh, he looks fucked up

wonderful hair, even with a fucked up face

this is such a beautiful shot, my lord.

that ambulance cut too close to the curve for me lol

u cant call dead people, ms. jed

danny ur father was right for asking you to thank the person who saved your life, HOWEVER, i do hate your dad.

awwww!! yes, i would love to hear about squids.

giving me captain james conrad vibes with the shirt color

yeah, corky’s cool (for the time being)

i like the name mordecai

speaking of which, i DID, in fact, have a crush on mordecai from regular show

i dont think smoking would be good for the cracked ribs

ah, so corky is figuring shit out

he does have nice ankles.

i dont know if he would be any good at running with CRACKED RIBS.

i would be milking everything i could if i was in his position.

he looks more upset than anything.

um.....ew

mr. frisky, i think you need some therapy for that.

get them pics.

thee river house

okay sir, shut the fuck up before i punch you through the damn screen.

angela burr my beloved.

YAYYYY. he got a lobster!! im proud of him

bruh, sit in the chair, not on this man’s thigh hairs

watch him sleep through all of tomorrow

me pretending to sleep when my mama checks in on me:

THE LOOK-

ONTO EPISODE THREEE-!

[localkatshelter]

Okame’s Underbelly: Intoxication |2nd|

(ShinsoxOC)

Katsumi's POV (localvillageidiot#0870) and Shinso's POV (hecker#8339)

Warning: Contains toxic relationships, heartbreak, quirk misuse, and alcohol consumption

Preview:

| Fuck, it’s actually over. The grave reality hit me in the face like a brick. I felt an unfamiliar emotion painfully swell in my chest. It terrified me. So, I did what I knew how to do best: avoid, avoid, avoid. I reached into the bag and pulled out a bottle of soju. I twisted off the cap and began downing it; I didn’t even notice the bitter taste. It didn’t take me long before I was ready for the second bottle. My head was    empty. |

1st Chapter - Anticipation

(Katsumi’s POV)

Performances had been going on for a little while. I had shifted my position in my chair a couple of times to get comfortable and finally settled on sitting cross legged with my knees resting on the plush arms. Holding my, now lukewarm, tea in both hands, I inhaled as I took a sip. The minty aroma cleared the fog in my head a bit from the heavy summer air that was being moved around by the slow ceiling fans scattered across the room. I did my best to politely listen to the people on stage as they went through their pieces, but really only one in every five people were any good. I looked at my phone to check the time. There was about 20 more minutes until Okame’s usual time slot. As a particularly boring piece was being performed, I heard some shuffling to my right. Curious and in need of something a bit more stimulating, my eyes wandered towards the sound. Not wanting them to notice my staring, I kept my eyes low towards the ground. I saw a pair of large black chelsea boots stop two chairs away from me. Their owner sat down rather slowly and as my eyes moved up the distressed denim pant leg I caught a glimpse of their hands tensely gripping the arms of the chair as they lowered themselves down. I couldn’t help but stare at those hands as they fidgeted with the loose strands of the cloth chair. The chipped nail polish certainly wasn’t intentional, but the aesthetic fit oddly well with the haphazard chunky rings that adorned their long, rough looking fingers. Am I weird for thinking hands are attractive...?

 Afraid that I would make accidental eye contact but now fully invested in analyzing this random stranger, I adjusted my angle in my chair, so I could easily peek to the side and see the stranger fully. Now that I could get a full look, I could tell for sure that the person sitting nearby was a guy around my age. I watched as he shifted in his seat to take off the black jacket he wore. He set it in his lap and tugged at the seams. I continued my observation. Oh he has an eyebrow piercing too? That’s kind of cute. His whole vibe is a bit Edgelord for me but he pulls it off. My eyes trailed back to his hands, which hadn’t stopped fidgeting. I followed them as he raised them to run his fingers through his hair. The color of it is what struck me first, it was so unique. The shade of purple really suited his pallet. But what the fuck is with that style? Is that on purpose? Is bed head a new trend? Well, I guess it doesn’t look terrible on him... Satisfied with my full analysis and slowly losing interest, I turned my attention to the next performer, who was at least a bit better than the few prior, but still not great. I checked the time again and got a bit excited since it was almost time for Okame to perform. In the meantime, I decided to entertain myself by making up little stories about Mr. Edgelord to pass the time.

I checked my phone casually to see the time. Oh, it’s almost time!  I straightened up in my seat to make sure I could see the stage well. It seemed like the whole room did the same, any side conversations that had been going on suddenly lulled and faded out. The entire room’s focus shifted to the empty stage at the front. We waited in collective anticipation for Okame’s ghost performer to walk up on stage. I peaked around the room for the familiar looking girl but to my surprise, one of the staff members walked onto stage instead. People turned towards each other and began murmuring in confusion. The staff member tapped into the mic to refocus everyone’s attention. 

“Good evening, everyone. The Squeaky Wheelhouse has an announcement to make. As many of you know, typically around this time our resident performer, Okame, has their ghost performer read their work. Unfortunately, Okame has informed us that they will be going on hiatus starting tonight. We are very sorry to see them go but we wish them well and hope they will come back whenever they are ready. With that being said, lets move right into our next performance.” 

The room remained silent for a moment as the announcement sunk in. Then all at once, chairs began to scrape against the floor as people got up to leave. Wow, I had no idea that this many people came specifically for Okame. Among those that got up was Mr. Edgelord. Huh, never would have pegged him for an Okame stan. I wonder what his deal is? When did he become a fan? I’ve never noticed him before. I was pulled out of my thoughts by a gruff, low voice speaking to me. I looked up to see Edgelord standing next to me.

“Excuse me.”

I pulled my legs in to make room for him to pass by, not saying anything. He looks super disappointed. I really can't remember ever seeing him here before. How weird. I looked around to see a noticeable amount of people had left already. I feel bad for the rest of the performers. I should stay for at least a little bit longer. I don't have anything better to do anyway and no one is waiting on me back at the dorms. Despite my best intentions, I could only make it through about another 20 or 30 minutes of performances before I decided that I didn't have to punish myself anymore with tonight’s below-average open mic entries. I gathered my things together and put them into my bag. I headed outside to start my walk back home. As I went to pop my headphones in, my quirk started to pick up an immense amount of sadness coming from someone to my left. I looked over and saw Edgelord hunched over on a bus bench with his head in his hands. Before I knew what I was doing, my quirk was dragging my body in his direction. I gently sat down next to him and reached out to tap his shoulder.

(Shinso’s POV)

If I’m being honest, I barely paid attention to the other performers. I knew I was being rude,  but I couldn’t help myself from impulsively checking for my ghost performer as it was getting closer and closer to the time slot. She liked to keep me on edge so I’m sure she was waiting for the last second to show up.  I heard snaps followed by the crowd hushing as the last performer before “Okame” left the platform. I stared at the stage intently but to my bewilderment, one of the staff members walked on instead.  “.... Unfortunately, Okame has informed us that they will be going on hiatus starting tonight…”  I didn’t hear the rest of what he said after that, his words just became a drone. She didn’t even show up.  After the staff member finished up the announcement he left the stage. My mind was blank, as the empty spotlight burned into my brain. I felt my body lift itself from the chair abruptly. Before I could process what I was doing, I was already making my way out of the place. To my relief, other people followed behind me so I didn’t stand out too much. I brushed past a few people, and luckily my auto-pilot still had some manners to excuse myself. 

My thoughts were racing as my heartbeat pounded in my ears. Fuck this, I’m going home. I swiftly beelined straight to the bus stop near the Wheelhouse. The soju bottles clinked together as I dropped down on the bench. I impatiently dug in my pocket for the pack of cigarettes I was trying to stretch for the week. I’ve cut down significantly and planned to eliminate it from my life completely. Right now is not the time to think about that. It’s actually the perfect fucking time to whip one out.  I put the cigarette between my lips and lit it with a shaky hand. I took one deep drag, the familiar static sensation coating my tongue and throat. If I wasn’t fuming, it might have actually felt soothing. She has some nerves not showing up after fucking around on me. What the fuck does she have to be mad about? 

We were laying together on the couch, catching up on the most recent episode of a show we both enjoyed. We had just finished laughing at the comic relief after an emotionally dense scene, when I saw her phone screen turn on in the corner of my eye. My eyes habitually followed the light to where her phone was plugged in next to me. The unnamed preview message read Are you still with him? I’ll be in the area tonight. I froze. I took in a deep uneven breath before slowly turning  to her.

 “What is this?” I rasped, as I held the phone to face her. 

She looked over and her expression shifted unpleasantly before she attempted to grab the phone from my hand, which I reflexively dodged.  She knew better than to answer my question. I rarely ever used my quirk on her, because it always managed to exacerbate the situation so it wasn’t worth it. If she’s already avoiding my questions, then this must be bad news. 

“Unlock your phone.” I demanded firmly.

 “No, Shinso.” she sighed. “You always let your paranoia get the best of you. Just stop. Don’t ruin tonight. We can always fight about something stupid another day.” 

Her dismissive demeanor irked me to no end. 

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” I borderline growled.

 “Leave me alone!” She spat back at me before her face went blank. 

Got her.  

“Unlock your phone.” I repeated steadily. 

She took the phone with a slack grip and entered her password.

 “Give the phone to me.” 

The more I scrolled through the thread of text messages, the more betrayed I felt. I was too devastated to be angry, but I was far from numb. The intense influx of emotions caused me to unknowingly release her mind from my control. I finally realized, when I heard soft choked sobs coming from her. When my eyes returned to her, she looked completely defeated, but I could not bring myself to sympathize with her. I tossed her phone on the couch before getting up and snatching my keys off the table.

 “Shinso, stop! Please wait!” she cried as she tugged my arm towards her. 

“For what?” I retorted sharply. “Actually, don’t answer that. I don’t need to get more evidence to know that we’re over.” I yanked my arm from her grip. 

She said nothing.  I pushed through the door without looking back.

After reliving the memory, I slowly came back to the present. I flicked the now cigarette butt on the ground and stepped on it.  Any sane person would wonder why I still wanted to be with her. The truth is, I’m a big fat hypocrite. I’ve done my fair share of bullshit in the relationship. Granted, I never cheated, but still, it’s not my place to get on my high horse. We’ve gone through so much together, and honestly, I can’t imagine what it would be like to not be with her anymore. And now...it’s actually over. Fuck, it’s actually over. The grave reality hit me in the face like a brick. I felt an unfamiliar emotion painfully swell in my chest. It terrified me. So, I did what I knew how to do best: avoid, avoid, avoid. I reached into the bag and pulled out a bottle of soju. I twisted off the cap and began downing it; I didn’t even notice the bitter taste. It didn’t take me long before I was ready for the second bottle. My head was empty.

I stopped keeping track of how much I had consumed. All I knew was that the bus was taking fucking forever. Despite it being cold out, my chest was warm due to the alcohol. I could barely sense that nameless feeling in there anymore. My head was fuzzy, a little too fuzzy now. Is this the third or fourth bottle?  Before I could contemplate the answer, the horizon began tilting before my lowered eyes. I rested the weight of my upper body on my knees and hung my heavy head low, hoping this dizziness would soon pass. 

[willespurplehoodie]

seven minutes

“Is there a light we could turn on?” Jens mutters into the darkness. “I can barely see my hand let alone you.”

“I don’t think so,” Lucas says softly. “I tried to find one before we got pushed in here but there doesn’t seem to be a switch anywhere.”

“Hold on, I’ll use the flashlight on my phone.”

Jens pulls his phone out of the pocket of his jeans and types in his password, finding the flashlight icon and pressing it. He grins and sets his phone down on the floor in front of him. In the light he can see Lucas grin and adjust his position on the closet floor. “Better?” Jens asks. Lucas nods and leans his head against the wall behind him. Jens crosses his legs and shoves his hands into the pocket of his hoodie.

He looks around the closet they’re in. It’s definitely a tight squeeze, Jens can feel the toes of his shoes touching Lucas’s, but it is not as small as he thought it would be.

Somehow their friends had roped everyone into playing party games. They were at a house party somewhere in Antwerp when Kes had suggested they play spin the bottle. Immediately everyone objected to it, the majority of their friend group being in relationships, Robbe and Sander, Aaron and Amber, Kes and Isa and even Moyo had a thing blossoming with Noor. With spin the bottle out of the question, Jayden suggested truth or dare which is how Jens found himself in this particular situation.

The questions started off like any other. Weirdly sexual mixed with immature dares until Robbe asked Jens truth or dare and he mistakenly said truth. “If you had to do seven minutes in heaven with anyone at the party, who would you pick?” Robbe had asked him with a smirk. The latter knew about Jens’s small, miniscule, crush on Lucas ever since he moved to Antwerp for university four months prior. Jens had glared at him. He thought about saying Jana but things were still relatively fresh from their breakup over the summer and he didn’t want to risk actually getting locked in a closet with her.

So he said Lucas. Lucas had perked up at the mention of his name and looked around the group confused. “He said he would pick you to do seven minutes in heaven with,” Robbe exclaimed, leaning into Sander who wrapped an arm around Robbe’s waist. Lucas stuck his tongue out at Jens and Jens flipped him off.

“It's okay Jens,” Lucas said teasingly. “I would rather pick you over Jayden.” Jayden let out a cry and shoved Lucas’s shoulder. Lucas grinned and shrugged before turning back towards the group.

“There’s a closet over in the back. You guys should go since you both chose each other.” Sander chuckled into Robbe’s shoulder and nodded in Jens’s direction.

“Seriously Sander!” Jens exclaimed. The blond laughed.

Suddenly the whole group was agreeing with Robbe and Sander and the next thing Jens knew was he was being dragged to the closet with his friends and shoved inside, stumbling over Lucas.

That is where Jens finds himself. In a closet. Alone. With the boy he kinda, sort of, definitely has a crush on. He wasn’t blind. As soon as Jens saw Lucas on the first day of university in their shared literature class, he felt butterflies. Because holy crap, any doubt he had ever had about his sexuality was suddenly gone and replaced with the image of ocean blue eyes staring back at him. His blond curls that fell over his forehead, his eyes, his freckles that scattered his cheekbones… Lucas was the epitome of the boy next door.

And it made Jens’s insides turn to mush.

He looks at Lucas across from him in the closet. Lucas nudges his foot against Jens’s and Jens kicks him back with a smile.

It really wasn’t Jens’s intentions to fall for Lucas, but he couldn’t help it. Being around Lucas was easy, uncomplicated and in all honesty being around him made Jens feel good. Lucas reminded him of Robbe because of everything that went on with his mom and dad and he was just really fucking easy to talk to. They could talk about their fears and dreams, they could make fun of each other, they could banter, they could easily talk to each other about who was the better Mario Kart player. Jens didn’t realise he could get so close to a person in such a short amount of time but here he was, with an undeniably huge crush on Lucas and it was killing him.

“So,” Lucas starts, snapping jens out of his thoughts.  “From what I’ve gathered, this game is either supposed to relieve the sexual tension between two people or make it worse.”

Jens laughs and shakes his head. “Oh really?”

“Totally.”

“You know we technically don’t have to do anything right?”

“I know,” Lucas says and looks down at their feet. “Our friends think differently however.”

Jens sighs. “Yeah, apparently.”

Lucas purses his lips and looks up at Jens through his lashes. “Did you actually mean it when you said you would pick me for this stupid game?”

“Of course, Luc,” Jens says, making eye contact. I would pick you over anyone in a heartbeat, he thought to himself.  “Did you really mean it when you said you would pick me over Jayden?”

Lucas giggles, the tips of his ears flushing. “Duh, I’m pretty sure you’re aware of this, but you’re pretty easy on the eyes. Plus if I picked Jayden I’m pretty sure I would end up killing him halfway through this instead of actually doing anything.”

Jens smiles and Lucas ducks his head down again. Jens clears his throat and looks around at the closet. There were a few shelves above them, leaving them barely enough room to stand. It looked like there were shoes, some old sports equipment and a variety of clothes that smelled like they needed to be cleaned three years ago. There was an old basketball in the corner collecting dust, but other than that, the closet was pretty bare bones. Well except for the gorgeous boy in front of him. That was very nice.

Jens looks back at Lucas and is met with the blue eyes he has grown to love. Lucas gives him a small smile before clearing his throat.

“Jens?”

“Yeah?”

“Hypothetically, would you want to do anything while we’re in here?”

“What do you mean?”

“If I kissed you, would you be okay with that?”

Jens felt his breath get caught in his throat. His eyes widen as he looks over at the other boy. Lucas blushes furiously and looks away before Jens can speak.

“Its okay if you don’t want to, I probably just misread the vibe in here and made it super awk-”

“You want to kiss me?” Jens cuts Lucas off. They meet each other's eyes again. Jens feels his heartbeat pick up. Lucas wants to kiss him? What does this mean? Does he like him back, does he feel the same electricity when they’re near each other, does he want something other than friendship?

“I mean, yeah.” Lucas plays with his hands.

“Really?”

“You know what? Forget I said anything I don’t want to make myself look stu-”

“Luc!” Jens cuts him off again and crawls over to him, sitting closer so that they are facing each other closely. “I want to kiss you too.” It was finally out in the open, now was not the time to turn back. Jens took another breath. “I’ve had the biggest crush on you these last few months but I didn’t want to say anything in case it would mess up our friendship.” He puts his hand on Lucas’s knee. “But seriously, I have wanted to kiss you for so fucking long.”

Lucas laughs, a pretty blush spreads over his cheekbones. He puts his hand over Jens’s. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, really.”

“I’ve had the biggest crush on you too, I mean, if that wasn;t clear by what I said about wanting to kiss you and stuff.” Lucas says softly. He intertwines their fingers together and lets out a breath of relief when their hands interlock. “I really like you. So much that it’s kinda scary.”

“I feel that,” Jens gets out. “I really don’t want to screw anything up with you.”

“I don’t want to screw anything up with you too.”

“Can I kiss you now?”

“Yes please.”

Jens nudges their foreheads together and rubs his nose against Lucas’s. He closes his eyes and lets himself breath for a second. Slowly, he turns his face and slots their lips together. Lucas lets out a sigh and kisses him back slowly, moving one hand to cup Jens’s jaw, angling their lips together.

Lucas’s lips are soft, plush against Jens’s and it feels so fucking right. Jens moves his lips against Lucas’s and feels the swarm of butterflies in his stomach return. This time, he doesn’t feel nervous. He just feels their lips moving against each other, and he smiles into the kiss. He can feel Lucas smile back and takes the opportunity to push his lips open. Lucas makes a soft noise and Jens runs his tongue over Lucas’s bottom lip. He feels their tongues slide together and deepens the kiss further.

It’s warm and wet and all kinds of good that Jens can feel his toes curling at the sensations. He pushes into the kiss harder, making his desperation and feelings known. Lucas meets him in the middle. Jens moves his hand to Lucas’s waist and tries to pull him closer, which is proven difficult since they’re sitting cross legged infront of each other in the fucking closet. Lucas pulls away first and grins. He starts to move from his position and nudges Jens so that he’s pressed against the wall behind him. Jens makes a confused noise.

“Luc?” He questions but his voice gets caught in his throat when Lucas moves so that he is practically in Jens’s lap, legs straddling him on either side. Lucas cups his neck and smashes their lips together again. Jens automatically moves his hands to Lucas’s waist and tugs him closer.

This kiss is more urgent than their first one. It’s all kinds of intense and a flurry of teeth and tongues as the two try and pour their emotions into it. Jens lets out a groan as Lucas’s tongue flicks around in his mouth and he is suddenly so grateful that they’re sitting because he thinks his legs would give out if they were standing. He arms clammer up Lucas’s back in an attempt to bring him closer, closer, closer.

Lucas pulls away again and turns Jens’s face to look at him. Their lips are red and swollen. Jens looks far away, as if kissing Lucas pulled his world out from under his feet. Licas takes the opportunity to lean down and place a sloppy, open mouthed kiss behind Jens’s ear. He feels the boy beneath him gasp at the sensation and lightly grazes his teeth against the skin before nipping gently and soothing the mark with a swipe of his tongue.

“Luc.”

Jens’s eyes are closed and he sounds so gone for this boy that Lucas learns back into his neck and continues his trail of sloppy kisses, occasionally biting to leave small marks as if to say, you’re mine. He moves from behind his ear, to the side of his neck, grazing down the juncture between his neck and shoulder, to across his collarbone, pulling down his hoodie. Jens’s hands push and pull and his waist and back trying to pull Lucas impossibly closer. He feels drunk on the sensation of Lucas’s lips against his burning skin. He feels electric, on fire, tingling in all the right ways until he mistakenly rolls his hips up to meet Lucas’s.

Lucas moans and drops his head against Jen’s shoulder, pressing down into the movement. He feels Jens stiffen beneath him and moves to look at him.

“Sorry I just - you feel good and - I - I” Jens stammers.

Lucas shushes him by meeting his lips in a bruising kiss. “Don’t stop,” he gasps into their mouths. Lucas presses down again and rolls their hips together electing a moan out of both of them. Jens leans down and presses open mouthed kisses along Lucas’s collarbone and Lucas hesitantly begins making small thrusting movements with his hips. Jens rolls his hips up to meet Lucas’s thrusts and he gasps because it feels so impossibly good. They officially crossed the line between friends and maybe more than friends, Jens thinks to himself as he and Lucas move together, building a rhythm and breathing heavily into each other's mouths.

Their movements speed up and Jens can feel heat pooling in his stomach. He desperately grabs at Lucas and kisses him and kisses him, feeling himself get hotter with each touch. Lucas begins moving his hips in earnest, making small little gasping noises that sounds like fucking music to Jens’s ears -

A knock on the closet door causes them to abruptly halt.

“You guys okay? You’ve been in there for like twenty minutes…” Robbe’s voice floats through the door. Lucas huffs out a laugh and his head flops onto Jens’s shoulder, his shoulders shaking. Jens rolls his eyes and lets out a giggle as his hand moves to gently stroke the smaller boy’s back.

“We’re good!” Jens calls out. Lucas muffles laughs into his shoulder.

“Are you guys planning on coming out of there anytime soon?” Robbe continues, “because we were gonna get some more drinks and stuff.”

“Yeah we’ll be out in a sec!” Jens can hear Robbe yelling back towards the group, the music thumping behind the closet door. Jens and Lucas look at each other before bursting out into laughter at their current position.

Jens moves his hands to cup Lucas’s face and bring their lips together softly. They spend a minute lazily making out until they hear the unmistakable noise of a bottle breaking on the floor outside. “We should probably go back out there,” Lucas smirks.

“Yeah,” Jens agrees. “Are we okay?” He asks quietly. “Because I don’t want this to be a one time thing.”

“Neither do I.” Lucas murmurs. His presses a soft, barely there kiss against Jens’s mouth and smiles. Jens’s heart fills with warmth as he pulls away and hugs Lucas, his Lucas, close to his chest.  

“Okay, good.”

[jovialyouthmusic]

Special Delivery

Fabio moves in, and Martin questions my judgement.

Word Count 2987

A/N Just a fluffy piece of self indulgence. A few swear words. 

No under 18s please

7 A New Lodger

The morning dawned bright with autumn sunshine, and I woke to find Ginger on the bedroom windowsill looking longingly out at the field behind the house.

‘Sorry Ginge’ I apologised. ‘It’ll be a while before you get to explore.’ He turned back to me, making a noise that told me he was a little disgruntled before he jumped down to demand breakfast. ‘Well it’s a good job you like Fabricio, he’ll be moving in today’ I said, leaning down to scratch his head, and he rose up to meet my hand and leaned heavily on my leg as if to say less talk, more food.

As I left him to scarf up his kibble, my phone dinged with a message from Martin.

Hey Lisa, Sue’s out for the day, want me to come up and do some gardening?

I’ll be busy today, soz

Well duh, was offering to help. I have cake.

I looked at the phone and sighed. Martin would find out sooner or later, so I’d better call, I thought. He picked up almost instantly.

‘Hey Martin, we need to talk.’

‘I can be there in ten.’ he replied eagerly, scenting gossip.

‘I – uh, I’ll be out in half an hour, that won’t work.’ Martin’s tone changed.

‘Okay Lisa, what have you done?’ he said darkly.

‘Funny story.’ I laughed apologetically ‘My friend slash brother is gong to be my new lodger.’ I heard him suck his breath in.

‘Please tell me you mean at Jackson street – no, wait – that would make him a tenant. For fucks sake Leese, he’s moving in with you?’

‘Kind of.’

‘He either is or he isn’t. Shit, you only met him less than a week ago.’

‘Please don’t freak, Martin. It will be fine. Ginger likes him, and he’s a great judge of character.’

‘Ginger also likes chasing mice and leaving their corpses by your bed.’ he scolded ‘This guy delivers pizza for fuck’s sake.’

‘Okay, if you’re going to carry on being negative I’m going to cut you off.’ I took a deep breath as Martin remained silent. ‘It’s just a temporary thing, he’s looking for modelling jobs. It’s what he does, he’ll be off on a shoot for a few days and then come back. He just ran short of funds and had to hole up for a while. This way he has somewhere nice to live and will be able to make more money before he goes home.’

‘Why don’t you just rent him your old place?’ Martin asked.

‘It’s not ready yet, and it would be too expensive.’ I paused for a moment, and he waited, the silence oozing sceptiscism.  ‘It’s different here Mar, the neighbours are too far away to notice if I fall down the stairs, break my neck and Ginge decides I’m dinner. I’d feel safer having someone around. I was going to advertise for a lodger anyway. This way I have someone to help out straight away.’

‘Right. Did he pressure you into this, Leese? Because that’s manipulative.’

‘No, he didn’t. It was my idea. He did say he was getting bad vibes off some of the others in his building, but that was after I offered.’

‘Think hard now, Leese.’ Martin persisted ‘No big hints, no puppy dog eyes?’

‘Puppies have brown eyes, Mar. Fabio’s eyes are grey.’

‘You know damn well what I mean.’

‘No, no hints, no pleading, no sob story. I’ll be fetching him soon. He’s got Dad’s old bike and he’ll take that to work and back.’

‘Well I suppose it’s too late to stop you.’ he said reluctantly ‘But the moment anything seems off – anything negative, let me know. I’m going to be checking up on you – every day, you hear me?’

‘As long as it doesn’t trigger Sue.’

‘To hell with Sue. If she doesn’t understand…’ he paused ‘Look, I can still come over today, so he knows I’ve got your back.’

‘If you want to bring over a housewarming present I guess I couldn’t stop you. Even if it’s only a pot plant.’

‘Cake.’ he said assertively. ‘How does two this afternoon suit you?’

‘I can make sure we’re in – I’ll make like it’s a surprise.’

‘That sounds like a cunning plan. Okay Les, see you later.’

-------

Fabio rang me later, and I went to his flat to pick him up. He was waiting outside with a large wheeled suitcase and his backpack. I got out to open the boot, and he came round to swing his suitcase in before lightly touching my shoulder and kissing me on the cheek.

‘Gracias, Lisa.’ he smiled ‘This means so much to me. I love to stay with people who live in the places I visit.’

‘De nada.’ I said, and he grinned even wider as I told him you’re welcome in his native language.

‘Your accent is very English.’ he said. ‘But I also have an accent, so we are even.’ He smiled ‘Wait a moment please, there is something else’ He vanished back into the house and came out again holding a large bunch of flowers. I blushed furiously as he handed them to me and again kissed me on the cheek.

‘Oh Fabio you shouldn’t have’ I protested. His lips lingered near my ear for a moment, sending shivers down my spine.

‘I have a bottle of wine in my bag. Tonight we get drunk together, no?’ I laughed nervously.

‘Just a little.’

‘Si, solo un poco, just a little.’ He pulled away and I put the flowers carefully onto the back seat. We got into the car and belted ourselves in before setting off. he leaned back in his seat and watched the passing streets.

‘How was the gym?’ 

‘Muy bueno. Very good, my belly will be flat soon, you will see.’ he said, patting his stomach. I swallowed at the thought of his muscled torso. ‘How is your cat? Is he happy in his new home?’

‘He wants to go outside.’ I said, glad of the distraction. ‘He has to stay in – you must be careful when we get there. Don’t open the kitchen door until the porch door is closed, and don’t leave your window open.’

‘Cómo no – of course.’ he replied. ‘Tonight we eat together, yes?’

‘Yes, I thought perhaps some salmon and salad, will that suit you?’

‘Muy Beuno, delicioso.’

‘Ginger will be happy, he loves fish.’ 

Once at the house, Fabio took his suitcase into his room and I put the kettle on for tea.

‘I’ve got some soup for lunch, you can have some if you like.’ I offered as he came out of his room a little while later. He accepted, and I set about getting things ready. Ginger came down from the upstairs bedroom and rubbed himself around Fabricio’s legs.

‘Can I pick him up?’ he asked. ‘He won’t bite?’

‘No, Ginge is very chilled – relaxed. If he wriggles put him down.’ The cat allowed himself to be hoisted up and started to purr as Fabio scratched his chin and ears.

‘We get on well, you and I.’ Fabio said ‘together, we look after Lisa, yes?’ Ginger wriggled, and he put him carefully back on the floor.

‘I think it’s me looking after you two.’ I joked as I handed him the bread to take through to the dining room.

‘We all look after each other then.’ he smiled. We sat and ate lunch quietly.

‘Is there anything you want to do today?’ I asked ‘There’s a wood nearby, we could go for a walk, and perhaps tomorrow we could go out to the coast.’

‘There are beaches?’

‘Yes, but it’s too late in the year and too cold to sunbathe or go swimming. It’s mostly estuary here anyway.’

‘Estuary?’ 

‘Where the rivers go into the sea. It’s tidal, not proper seaside.’

‘Ah entiendo – I understand.’ He reached out to take my empty bowl and stood to take the dishes to the kitchen. ‘We walk later – now I must read my emails and send one to my mother.’

‘The internet’s all set up, I’ll give you the password.’

‘Let me wash up, senora.’ he said, and I blinked at the formality of ‘senora’, but said nothing.

‘Okay, just leave it to drain and I’ll put it away. I have some sorting to do upstairs. Remember, don’t let Ginger out.’

‘Lo siento. Call me when you are ready.’

Once upstairs I spent some time sorting out clothes, and calculated when to go out so that we would be back before Martin came. I decided not to leave it to chance and texted him to delay him a little longer, then went down to find no trace of my lodger, so I tapped on his door.

‘If you’d like, we can go out now.’ I suggested. He appeared quickly, pulling on a jacket and holding a pair of boots to replace his trainers.

‘It’s not such a tough walk as the hills.’ I explained ‘But if you wanted to go running it’s a good route.’ We set off down a nearby side road until we hit the entrance to the wood, and turned off to take the path. He agreed that it was an excellent place for running, save for the odd dog walker who had omitted to clear up after their pet. We were out for just less than an hour, turning back when the sky started to darken and arriving back as the first drops of rain started to fall.

‘Lisa.’ Fabio said ‘We should talk more about me being here.’ I felt a little thrill as we stood together in the kitchen, me fussing with cups ready to make more tea, more to occupy myself than anything else, feeling a little awkward. Martin would make an appearance soon, I thought.

‘Oh yes?’ I asked ‘What did you want to say?’ He rubbed the back of his neck and leaned back on the kitchen counter.

‘Well’ he said ‘I said I want to be more than a brother to you.’ I tried to keep my expression neutral, wondering where he was going with the conversation, a sick excited feeling in the pit of my stomach. As I hadn’t answered him, he went on ‘Before you invited me to live here’ he continued.

‘Yes, that’s so.’ I responded, and he stood clear of the counter.

‘I don’t want you to be uncomfortable’ he said, holding his palms out to me ‘I would never do anything you don’t like.’ My heart hammered in my chest. ‘You have no boyfriend?’ he asked as I remained silent, mind whirling. ‘Do you like men? Did someone hurt you?’ I laughed awkwardly.

‘That’s a lot of questions.’ I said, taking a deep breath. ‘No, I have no-one special right now, yes I do like men - and no, nobody hurt me. I’ve had – a few relationships but nothing that lasted more than a year or so.’

‘You look for your someone special?’ he asked ‘Someone who’s not just staying for a few months?’

‘I don’t know’ I said ‘I’ve not had much luck so far. I think – Fabio, it’s not easy. My heart tells me one thing and my head another.’

‘Your heart tells you what?’ he smiled. I felt a little dizzy.

‘It tells me…’ at that moment the doorbell rang, and I jumped violently.

‘Hey Leese!’ Martin’s voice came from outside the porch. I was frozen for a moment, and Fabio looked startled. I tore my gaze away from him to go and answer ‘I was just passing, can I come in? I brought cake to celebrate your move.’ Martin said, winking broadly. I cursed his sense of timing and plastered a smile onto my face.

‘Martin, what a surprise. We were just making tea.’

‘We?’ he asked innocently, handing me a box.

‘Umm yeah – you met Fabio.’ I lead him into the kitchen and Fabio shifted self consciously, flashing his white toothed smile. ‘He’s my new lodger.’ The two men shook hands.

‘Hello again.’ said Martin ‘You’re a lucky man, finding a place like this to stay – and Lisa, of course. How did you meet again?’

‘Now come on Martin.’ I said ‘I know how you take your tea. Go through into the lounge and I’ll put this out onto a plate.’

‘Excuse me.’ Fabio said. ‘I go to the bathroom, wash my hands.’

‘Here, let me see to the cake.’ said Martin loudly as Fabio left the kitchen.

‘Well that was fucking subtle.’ I hissed at him ‘asking him how we met. I don’t want you to scare him, just be polite and interested.’

‘You know how I feel, Leese’ he answered in a low tone.

‘Well your timing was just great, Einstein. Here, take the cake through, we’ll have it in the lounge.’ In minutes we were all seated, Martin on one end of the couch and Fabio at the other, the cake and plates on the coffee table. Martin sat back, foot balanced on his knee, and Fabio leaned toward me, elbows on his knees. I took a slice of the cake and offered it to Fabio

‘Just a little.’ he said. ‘remember, I must look good for work.’

‘It’s easy to work this stuff off.’ Martin assured him ‘special low calorie stuff.’ I snorted

‘He’s lying.’ I sighed.

‘Joking, not lying’ he retorted.

‘So, Lisa didn’t tell me very much about you’’ Fabio said, regarding the cake before turning to Martin and asking ‘How did you meet?’ I laughed.

‘Well played, Fabio. We met at Tai Chi class, and Martin also did yoga. He takes his own classes now, in Ashtanga yoga’ Martin sat up straight and puffed his chest out a little.

‘Oh, my brother’s sister does Ashtanga’ Fabio said. ‘Es muy dificil – very difficult. You must be very fit to teach it.’ Martin smirked a little, his ego stoked.

‘Oh, do you do yoga?’ he asked in a slightly superior tone.

‘No, I go to the gym, I run.’ he replied. At that moment Ginger came into the room, obviously disturbed from a nap by our voices.

‘Hey little man.’ Martin said. ‘How’re you enjoying your new home?’

‘He’s not allowed out yet.’ I explained.

‘Oh bad luck, fuzzface’ he said, reaching down to scratch his head. Ginger ducked away from him and sat by me, regarding the cake with interest.

‘No cake for you.’ I said ‘If you’re staying in, you’re not getting enough exercise, so short rations I’m afraid.’

‘Oh pobre gato.’ poor cat Fabio said, reaching out with his hand and flicking his fingers. Ginger went over to him for some attention and sympathy.

‘Well will you look at that.’ said Martin. ‘the little fella likes you.’ Fabio shrugged

‘Cats like me. Ginger is muy chulo – a cool cat.’

‘El gato churo?’ I asked. Fabricio threw back his head and laughed.

‘I am here to learn English better, not teach Spanish.’ He turned his gaze to mine ‘Have you been to Espana, Lisa? It is a beautiful place. I go to Madrid, to Barcelona. Muy hermoso’

‘No, I’ve not travelled outside Britain, I get stressed out travelling.’ His face fell.

‘Oh but travelling is so exciting.’

‘I love going to new places, it’s getting there that I’m not keen on.’ I explained ‘I’m scared that I’ll miss my flight or get lost.’

‘That is very sad.’ he said, then his face lit up ‘You should come with me on a shoot, I look after you.’ Martin cleared his throat and glared at me.

‘Well I need to get Ginger settled before…’ my voice trailed away.

‘Is just an idea.’ Fabio said, and took a bite of the cake. ‘This is good.’ he waved it at Martin. ‘You make this?’ Martin made a sour face.

‘No, my partner did. Stress baking.’ he looked at his own slice and took a bite ‘I think she makes it to make me fat so I can’t teach yoga. Most of my students are women, and she’s very possessive.’ Fabio’s eyes widened for a moment. He reached over and patted Martin’s knee sympathetically.

‘That is too bad. Take her some flowers, make her feel special.’ Martin’s eyes flicked to the flowers in the window, the ones that Fabio had bought for me.

‘She’d just think I’d done something bad and was trying to compensate.’ he sighed ‘Honestly Leese, I don’t know how much longer I can take this. I can see me moving back in with my parents.’

‘I have a spare house for rent.’ I grinned. He rolled his eyes.

‘I’ll stick it out a bit longer, thanks.’ We all chatted on, and the atmosphere settled to a relaxed ambience, albeit with a few undercurrents. Before long we had finished the cake and tea, and Martin announced he had better go back before Sue got home. I walked out with him to his car, the grass wet from the rain shower earlier.

‘Well I guess either he is a nice guy, or he’s not shown his true colours’ Martin said ‘But did you see how he put his hand on my knee earlier? Gay.’ I snorted.

‘It’s just his Latino mannerisms.’ I reassured him. ‘You can’t judge him by our buttoned up British standards.’ He tutted, then threw his arms wide for a bear hug. I leaned into him, feeling his reassuring solidity. He drew away and smiled ruefully.

‘You take care, Lisa. Any funny business, any steps out of line and call me. I’ll be here in a shot, never mind Sue.’

‘Thanks, but I don’t think it’ll be necessary.’ I assured him. ‘I’ll keep you updated.’ He got in the car and wound down his window.

‘Knickers on, legs crossed.’ he told me gravely before he reversed, turned, and pulled out carefully onto the road and I waved him goodbye.

[whump-my-dear-watson]

Whumptober day no.27+28+altno.16

"bound" "ransom" "beaten"

Character: Malcolm Bright

Fandom: Prodigal Son

Word Count: 3k

Summary: Malcolm is taken for ransom, but his captor isn’t after money…

A/N:  ok I really love writing for this show, but apparently, I can only write about Prodigal Son whump in a warehouse? Idk man, I always come back to it. Anyway, enjoy this one lads! 

 Warnings: uh blood, capture (I mean look at the prompts), depressed Malcolm (what’s new? lol) near-death experience, the last part is really heavy on the subject of death but (spoiler) he doesn’t die :P, hrmm besides just generally being whumpy I can’t think of any other warnings (for sure let me know if I should add somthn tho) 

Malcolm wakes with a start, feeling the restraints around his wrists like usual. It’s not until he opens his eyes he realizes they are not his restraints. Panic was beginning to set in, his confusion feeding into it more than anything else. 

Malcolm had found himself sitting bound to a metal chair in the middle of what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse. From his perspective he was alone. He took a big breath in and then let it out.. He had to focus. How long had he been out? Was this about a case? Had to be. 

Malcolm tried to pull against his restraints, no luck. For the time being, until he could think of a plan, he was trapped. 

“You’re awake. Good.” 

The voice came from behind, but before Malcolm could turn to see, the younger man had stepped into his vision.  He was hardly 20 Malcolm mused, not the first profile he would have pegged. 

The young man looked academic, a pair of sturdy glasses to go along with his knit sweater. This whole essence gave off a vibe, but Malcolm couldn’t quite place it. 

“Hello Malcolm Whitley.” 

Malcolm couldn’t help but flinch at the use of his father’s last name. His heart started to beat faster, maybe this wasn’t just about a case. 

  “What do you want from me?” he asked, doing his best to appear calm. He had to keep the upper hand, if one could have the upper hand while unwillingly bound to a chair. 

“Why, you are going to help me a great deal, Malcolm.” the young man’s face was earnest but malicious. 

With every second he was forming a better idea of what his captor was, what motivated him, what caused him to take action, but all his revelations he came to all led to the same conclusion: he was in trouble. 

  “You are such a disappointment, you know?” 

This caught Malcolm off guard, “What do you know about me?” 

“Ha! What don’t I know about you, Malcolm Whitley? You betrayed your own father, your own flesh and blood!” the crazed man stood in front of Malcolm, proclaiming this as if Malcolm had personally offended him. 

“He was a monster.” 

“He was a master. He was an artist, really Malcolm? What makes you think he deserves to be trapped all alone? Suffering for showing his true self to the world? What ever happened to loving your neighbor?” 

Malcolm’s face rolled back in disgust, the ever familiar nausea of thinking about his father making a show again. 

Malcolm knew he could debate with this kid all day, about how there is never an excuse to kill 23 people, but from the looks of it, it would just fall on deaf ears.

“Luckily, thanks to you, he won’t be trapped anymore.” the young man’s face morphed into a smile as Malcolm’s stomach dropped. 

“What do you- what are you-” Malcolm couldn’t think clearly. He was only safe because of those 4 walls that his father was unable to cross. He couldn’t breathe. “What are you going to do?”

“It’s what you’re going to do.” 

And with his words ringing in his ears the young man took a step closer to Malcolm, before hitting him straight across the face, brass knuckles inflicting most of the pain, and the loss of consciousness. 

  *** 

Gil finally found a moment to sit down and actually enjoy his coffee, he sighed content for a moment.  The silence of the station almost lulling him into a mid-day nap, almost. 

  He was jostled out of his break by a pounding on his office door. Gil sighed, of course, he couldn’t catch a moment. “Come in,” 

  Dani Powell entered, a yellow package in hand. “You need to see this.” Her expression was grim, “This came for the station. It was scanned. No bomb or anything, but honestly it might be worse.” 

Gil thought to himself what ‘might be worse’ than a bomb, but he pushed that aside to inspect the laptop that was in the package. 

“There was no password.” Dani paused before opening the laptop, unsure of what to say next. “It was only streaming one thing, a live camera.” 

Gil’s eyebrow’s rose, he still wasn’t sure exactly why this was his problem, it was New York City. Strange things happened, a live feed to a camera is not the worse thing to be sent to a police station. 

It wasn’t until Dani pulled up the video did Gil fully understand. His face drained of all color, the taste of coffee in his mouth going sour. Displayed on the video monitor was a dark screen, but he was able to make out the figure laying slumped in the chair, hardly moving. He couldn’t form words for a moment. He had so many questions, the biggest if he was okay, was his kid okay? 

“Bright. What did you get yourself into?” he mumbled before sinking into his chair. 

His hand on his chin he wore a far away expression. Dani looked unsure if to talk, but had to give more information. 

“It’s live, I put some people on tracking it, but whoever set it was smart. We’ve had no luck. Maybe with more time-but Lieutenant, it’s not looking good. Gil nodded. From a law enforcement perspective, he knew what had to happen, but Bright was his blind spot. He swallowed before giving Dani a direction, he couldn’t make any mistakes on this one. 

“Make sure that’s being monitored at all time, I’m going to take a Tarmel to Bright’s place to see if we can turn anything up. Let me know as soon as anything changes.” 

“Will do boss,” Dani nodded before exiting the room. Gil stared blankly at his office wall, willing it all to be a dream. For himself to wake up in his office chair having nodded off, Bright to be hounding him about another case. But this was real life. And this was a real problem.

  *** 

  Malcolm was awoken to a bucket of cold water poured over him, he whipped his head to get it out of his eyes, but without his hands to wipe the water, it continued to drip into his eyes. This was worse than the punches. Malcolm could handle a beating, but when it came to his eyes he couldn’t have anything covering them, he had to be able to see, he had to be able to perceive, it was all he was good at… 

He supposed that he was lucky that his captor’s intent wasn't to torture him, with all he knew about him that could get pretty messy pretty quick. By the time the water ran off his eyes and he was able to see again he noticed there was a change, specifically a small tripod set up to the left of him, the camera atop flashing a steady red telling him that it was recording. 

  That didn’t look good for him. 

Before he could get too far away with his imagination the young man showed himself to him again. 

“We’re one step closer to our goal, right Malcolm?” he said turning away from Malcolm to give a cheesy grin into the camera. 

Malcolm figured that meant he was ransom. Or being used for ransom, whatever the proper term was he couldn’t think over the pounding of his head and the incessant voice of his captor trailing on. 

“As you can see, I have someone here with me today. A  very special someone, who made a terrible mistake a while ago. Now he’s going to fix it.” 

  The man approached Malcolm, still talking into the camera. “If I’m not being clear enough, you release the genius Doctor Martin Whitley, or his disgrace of a son dies.” 

  Malcolm half expected the next hit, this one knocking him and his chair onto the floor. 

He had to admit that it did hurt, but Malcolm assumed it was more for dramatic effect than his pain. That might be coming later. 

*** 

 Gil replayed the clip that Dani had sent him on his phone, of the threat, of Malcolm being thrown into the ground. Gil couldn’t help himself but to replay it again, it couldn’t decide if this was better or worse than when he had seen the video last. 

At least Bright was awake, he thought. He was alive and breathing, beaten and bruised, but alive. Then again, whoever the maniac that was holding him seemed completely unhinged, and not very patient. 

  It wasn’t even Gil’s decision, if they could release Martin for Malcolm, they had a pretty strict “don’t negotiate with terrorists” policy, and no matter how much he cared for the hostage, there were no special circumstances. 

  Gil pocketed his phone, he couldn’t stomach another rewatch, somehow he was putting all the blame on himself again. If he was keeping a closer eye on Bright then no one would have gotten the chance to do this, but he couldn’t help it if the kid didn’t let anyone in. Or was that just another excuse? 

With a frustrated sigh Gil gave up with his self quarrel. He studied Malcolm’s loft. It was all he could do. His hands were tied with Martin, and there was still no luck with tracking the source of the video. How many empty warehouses could there really be in New York? Too many, he thought. Too many. 

“Has anyone talked to Martin yet?” JT asked him. 

  Gil shook his head, “No. There’s nothing we can do, even if we could let him go, we shouldn’t. It would be too dangerous to the world.” 

“What about if he could ID Malcolm’s captor?” JT asked, “He’s a freak, so I’m sure he keeps tabs on all of his obsessors, I mean the man probably has a scrapbook titled, ‘my fans’.” 

  “That’s a good idea. Take Powell. I’m going to stay here...there has to be something we’ve missed.” Gil started to drift off again. 

  JT put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, “We’re going to get him.” 

  “But will it be in time?” 

*** 

 Malcolm kept his eyes closed now, when he controlled when he couldn’t see it actually helped him. Take his mind off of things anyway, of his busted lip and bleeding face, his most likely broken ribs and his captor that didn’t seem to be losing any momentum. 

  He would do this annoying countdown for the camera, telling them and Malcolm before he would receive another hit. But Malcolm could rise above it, after all, didn’t he deserve it? If it weren’t for him the Surgeon would be old news from yesterday's paper, but his constant presence only seemed to dredge up the past even more. 

  “Why-” Malcolm paused to spit a mouthful of blood. “are you doing this? What does Martin mean to you?” 

The younger man smiled briefly at Malcolm’s question. “Martin is my, well, father in many ways. Or, I am his son. At least, his son that respects and doesn’t disappoint him.” 

  Malcolm’s face creased in confusion. “How do you figure that he’s your father?”

“I was born in 1998. The same day the Surgeon was arrested. My disgrace of a birth father had abandoned my mother in the hospital, the same day Martin’s disgrace of a birth son abandoned him to the police. We were a match sewn by fate.” 

“You’re delusional.” 

“I am the only one seeing clearly!” he raised his voice. 

  Malcolm shook his head, blood dripping down his temple. “You want him? You want him as a father? You want him haunting your every waking moment? You can have him!” Malcolm matched his tone. 

  The young man shook with rage, “You don’t even know what you have.”

“What I have? I have issues! I have so many issues, because he not only killed 23 people, he ruined all of our lives! I’ve lived my whole life trying to get away from him, and now here I sit, about to die to release him! Can’t you see that this insane?!” 

  Malcolm broke down, drowning in his own anger which morphed to a sob. He almost forgot that he was being recorded. Hopefully, no one was watching. 

  The man was practically seething and Malcolm sunk back into his chair. It was no use. There was simply no talking his way out of this one. There was no way out of this one. 

*** 

  Gil looked down at his phone buzzing. He didn’t know if he could handle another clip of a video, but he answered the phone anyway. 

Dani was on the other line, “We have a lead!” she practically shouted, and for a moment...Gil allowed himself to hope. 

  “We’ve been analyzing the video and Malcolm got his captor to start talking about himself, he was born the same day the Surgeon was arrested and has been obsessed with him as his father for some reason. Weirdness aside, we got a real lead with his birthdate and a current picture. JT and I have had no luck with Martin, he claims he had ‘no idea he was so popular’. I wanted to sock him in the face,” Dani said the last bit quieter but Gil smiled. 

  They had a chance. Standing up from Malcolm’s bed he rushed the door, they had a sick man to arrest and their man to save. 

  *** 

  “We’ve spent a great deal of time here, haven’t we Malcolm? No dice though. No word that the Surgeon has been released.” the young man smiled.

“Have I really just misjudged your importance? Or do you really just have no friends? Either way, Malcolm Whitley, you haven’t been doing it.” 

Malcolm leaned his head back and looked to the ceiling. It was too late to try to fight him, he was too injured and weak. But who's to say he ever would’ve been able to hold his own? 

“Last count down everyone.” the man said, then the clicking of a bullet being loaded into the chamber echoed through the warehouse.

  Malcolm couldn’t hide the tear that slipped down his face. He wasn’t sure why he was crying, it was finally happening. He was finally going to die. Maybe it was because he was going to die because of his father, or because he could never see his team again, his friends. 

  “Ten minutes folks. What are you going to do? Are you going to watch me blow Malcolm Whitley’s brains all over this place, or are you going to release the doctor?” 

Malcolm had tuned him out at this point. He only wished that he had one more day. To hug his sister, to thank Gil, to tell Dani, JT and Edrisa how much working with them had shaped his life. However short. He would tell his mother that he forgave her. She was awful as a parent, but he couldn’t hold that over her now. Now that he was going to die broadcasted to the whole world. 

  His only hope was that they looked away. That they didn’t watch him die. Then again, what did it matter? They would be the ones that found him. Would Edrisa do his autopsy? Would the team be assigned to his murder? Would his father cry when he heard? What about Ainsley? She was so vulnerable right now, would she be assigned to do a story on him? On the way that he died? 

“7 minutes!” 

Malcolm couldn’t help himself diving deep into his thoughts, entertain them because this might be his last chance. He didn’t really want to think about it. Now that it was becoming a reality it wasn’t as gracious as he had thought it would be. Death. He had been surrounded by death all his life, it’s not like he could avoid it though. Could anyone? 

“3 minutes, you better hope that he gets released soon, I’m serious about this gun Malcolm...” 

Malcolm shut his eyes, he would close them on his terms. Not when the bullet hit him. He was supposed to choose. Not some stranger in a warehouse. Him. 

  “60 seconds, well, it was nice knowing you. Now you get to die as the disgrace you turned yourself into that day.” 

The gunshot rang though the warehouse making Malcolm jump. 

  His face was twitching uncontrollably, his eyes still squeezed shut. It didn’t hurt as much as he’d thought. Death. 

  He was still shaking, unable to open his eyes. 

  “Bright!” called a familiar voice from across the room. 

  Gil. 

  Malcolm hesitantly opened his eyes to see Gil and what seemed to be the whole of the department surrounding him. 

  Malcolm’s eyes followed the blood splatter to his captor laying face-first on the ground. 

It was over. It was really over. 

  “Bright, are you okay?” Gil asked rushing to undo his binds. 

  All Malcolm could do was nod, it was all too much. He had come to terms with death, and now yet again he was left shaking and broken, but this time, not alone. 

  “Let’s get you to the hospital,” Gil said directing Malcolm towards the awaiting ambulance. 

  Malcolm took his shaking hands and ran them through his blood-stained hair. He stopped in his tracks, and when Gil turned to stop with him Malcolm put both his arms around him and said exactly what he had been meaning to for the past 20 years. 

  “Thank you,”

[cynicalrainbows]

The Queens + Dealing with online tech support

Did anyone ask for this weirdly specific list? No. Will I write it anyway? Yes. Am I writing this while Virgin Media keeps me on hold for hours on end? Also yes.

ANYWAY.

Aragon: Absolutely channelling big Karen vibes here. Very ‘Pass me over to your superior, please!’ At her most regal. Unfrotuntely for her, she has to be on hold for ages until she even gets to the point of having a real human to be Karen-ish at, so until then, she just gets more and more tense and angry. If she smoked, she would be stress-smoking. Has considered taking it up purely for this. The other queens stay OUT of the living room while Catalina is on the phone- the only one allowed in is Cathy, because she’s the only one Catalina probably won’t snap at if she offers tea or whatever. Basically, Cathy tells the others when it’s safe to go in,  which is usually an hour or so after the call has actually finished.

Anne: Messes with the pre-recorded question-and-answers and says silly stuff into the phone at it. ‘Please press four if you’re thinking of leaving us-’ ‘Oh my god you’re all so freakin’ NEEDY! No wonder this relationship is ending!’ Gradually gets more aggressive as she gets more annoyed until she’s making threats to the pre-recorded on-hold music. Cathy and Kitty generally try to listen in when Anne is on the phone like this because it’s quite amusing to listen to- it’s even funnier when someone picks up the phone and hears a bit of what Anne is saying and she has to frantically backtrack and apologise. ‘No, Sir, I promise I wasn’t- shut up Cathy, it isn’t funny! No, really, I hold you and your company in the highest regard- Kitty, I swear if you don’t stop laughing-’ 

Jane: Very patient and nice- doesn’t quite GET that it’s pre-recorded message and not a real person so she’s super polite to it. ‘Please press two for other options’ ‘Thank you SO much!’ The other queens find it really adorable and eventually Kitty gives up reminding her that no one can hear her. Being on hold doesn’t bother her- she just goes about her day with her phone on speaker (backfired once when the poor person on the other end put her through just as Jane was screaming about a spider and begging Anna to come and take it away.) She is also the person all the call-centre people HOPE they’ll get put through to because she’s so understanding: ‘Oh no don’t apologise, OF COURSE I understand you’re busy! You must be working so hard, you poor thing!’. Essentially the anti-Aragon in terms of Karen-ness.

Anna: Like Jane, doesn’t really care if she gets put on hold. Keeps her phone on speaker and dances to the on-hold music, no matter if it’s terrible. Especially if it’s terrible. Aragon once walked in on her and Kitty waltzing dramatically to a really tinny rendition of Santa Clause is Coming To Town and just walked right back out again. Will cheer up the phone person with stories about good dogs she’s seen if they sound at all stressed (or even if they don’t. Some appreciate it. Some.....don’t. ‘-I swear, I’ve never seen such a huge Malamute. 10/10, would definitely pet again. My hand was LOST in his fur.’ ‘Ma’am, do you actually want to reconnect the wifi or not?’

Kitty: Really, really hates having to make calls like this, it stresses her out and she can never remember all of her passwords, and usually by the time she’s put through, she’s so anxious she’s forgotten what she wanted in the first place. Has occasionally just chosen to go without the help she needed because she doesn’t want to make the call. Will actually tear up with the stress of it all sometimes- Jane or Anna will usually sit with her for support while she makes the call if they can, and then are really pleased with her when she’s got through it. Anne will sometimes walk by and drop chocolate buttons into her lap as a motivator if Jane and Anna are busy.

Cathy: Is super enthused about the technology that allows for pre-recorded messages and feels really lucky that she lives in an age where technology is a Thing RIGHT up until she actually has to make her first call. Then she realises how much it sucks and indulges in some dramatic flopping around and bewailing the fact that electricity was ever invented to curse them all. Like Kitty, disorganised af and never knows what password she has. Jane tries to make sure Cathy writes down all passwords etc when she makes them so she doesn’t forget- Cathy does so and then immediately loses the paper and/or forgets where she wrote it down. It’s not her fault- she has a LOT of things to write down, after all. (Is also fed chocolate buttons by Anne to keep her spirits up while on hold.)

[diarrheaworldstarhiphop]

Five years ago, while a student at Columbia, Sulkowicz lugged a dorm-issue, extra-long twin mattress around campus for as long as she had to attend school with her alleged rapist. This was Mattress Performance (Carry That Weight), a globally viral art piece that made visible the weight of campus sexual assault. It transformed Sulkowicz into an icon. Since then, her artworks have regularly roused the internet: a video of her reenacting her assault, a bondage performance at the Whitney that doubled as institutional critique. This past spring, she tweeted an image that was perhaps even more provocative: a photo of her grinning alongside two of her libertarian critics — not performance art, she insists, but a byproduct of her new curiosity about other views.

“All my clothes are in boxes,” she tells me, gesturing apologetically to her oversize charcoal hoodie. She’s in the midst of moving from a sublet owned by a tantra instructor (mirrors surrounding the bed to create an infinite regression — that kind of thing) to an apartment in lower Manhattan whose location she asks me not to reveal, since “there’s some really scary people who are obsessed with me.” Her hair is short-cropped and coffee black, its natural color after years of bright dyes, and her voice is buoyant, laughter always bubbling underneath. Since 2016, Sulkowicz has identified as gender fluid, and she sometimes uses they/them pronouns. When I ask what to use for this article, she texts me, “Lol I’m not clear about it either,” before settling on she/her.

During the summer of 2018, Sulkowicz tells me, she was single for the first time in years. Swiping through Tinder, a man she found “distasteful” super-liked her. “It smelled like Connecticut,” she says of his profile. “He was very blond, law school, cut jawline, trapezoidal body figure, tweed suit kind of vibe, but something inside of me made me swipe right, I don’t know.” They began messaging, and she found him witty. “He was actually way more fun to talk to than any other person I matched with.”

Eventually, Sulkowicz stalked him on Twitter and realized that he was conservative — “like, very conservative.” At first, she was repulsed and considered breaking it off. But then she thought, “Wait, actually, that’s kind of fucked up because he’s the most interesting person I’ve come across, shouldn’t I be open to talking to him?” After dispelling her initial fear, she texted him that it would be “interesting (progressive? Powerful?) for two people who might be the antithesis of each other to go on a Tinder date.”

Ahead of this date, they traded reading assignments: Sulkowicz gave him the password to protected areas of her website, and he sent pieces he’d written for conservative magazines, which she printed, annotated with her critiques, and brought to their date. This man expected Sulkowicz to be “the patron saint of wokeness,” but when he met her, he found that she wasn’t actually trying to litigate the issues — she was mostly just “curious about this different perspective that she had not been as familiar with.” The two “sort of dated” for a while and then realized that their chemistry was more conversational. They became “amazing friends.”

Not having known conservatives before, Sulkowicz had to play catch up. Early in their friendship, she asked him to recommend one book to help her understand him, and he picked Jonathan Haidt’s The Righteous Mind. It’s a book that explains, in evolutionary terms, the human tendency toward political tribalism and the importance, in light of that, of learning from one another’s beliefs. She calls the book “mind-opening.” Its resonance with her new friendship did not escape her.

Shortly after, Sulkowicz attended a book talk of Haidt’s. This was for The Coddling of the American Mind, which diagnoses the campus left with the kinds of cognitive distortions that addle the chronically anxious and depressed: a tendency to blow everyday problems out of proportion, or to believe that one’s negative feelings reflect reality. This book kicked a hornet’s nest on the left, and when Haidt learned that Sulkowicz was at his talk, he didn’t assume she was a fan. “I expected her to be the sort of person who sometimes asks the angry question when I give lectures on campuses,” Haidt tells me. “And when I first saw her and she had blue hair, that fed my assumptions and expectations about what her views and values would be.” But Sulkowicz surprised him. “It changed the way I think about politics,” she said about The Righteous Mind, “and I wanted to thank you for it.” The two became friends.

Soon, she began attending house parties and happy hours with conservative and libertarian intellectuals, reading Jordan Peterson and articles from the National Review. In the past, Sulkowicz dismissed opposing views without understanding them, but now she sees intellectual curiosity as intertwined with respect: she wants to disagree with people on their own terms. This is an ethical position, but one with personal resonance. “I’ve always been upset,” she admits, “that there are people out there who assume that I’m a bad or mean person without ever having met me.” When she describes her political journey, she fixates on the experience of surprising people, of walking into a group who might otherwise dislike her and “disrupting their expectations.” At these parties, she reflects, “I can become fuller to certain people rather than staying the same caricature. I’m going from flat to round.”

- - -

A couple weeks after our lunch, Sulkowicz brings me to a book party at a dark bar on Bleecker Street. Here, she introduces me to her friend from Tinder, who asks that I not use his real name for this article. (It might be a distraction at his white-shoe law firm and, besides, “Emma is inured to online hate, but I am not.”) When he asks if he can choose his own pseudonym, I tell him sure. He picks Chad. It’s a reference to the incel term for men who, due to serendipitous genetics, are attractive enough to have oodles of sex. All of us laugh, but Sulkowicz laughs loudest, her voice tinkling, bell-like, and leaping between octaves.

Chad is a Chad, by the way, and he does “smell like Connecticut”: he has cornsilk hair, a shieldlike chest, and a jawline that an incel might show his surgeon for inspiration. But Chad is also a different kind of conservative than I imagined. Rather than a bowtie-sporting William F. Buckley type thumbing his nose at populism, he finds Reaganism laughably passé and aligns himself with Tucker Carlson’s anti-elite drive to regulate markets. He says that he would support some of Trump’s policy agenda, if only the president were competent enough to achieve it.

This party is for Robby Soave, a libertarian reporter on the snowflake beat whose new book, Panic Attack: Young Radicals in the Age of Trump, is — per Soave’s own description — “a book that is extremely critical of [Sulkowicz] and that I don’t wish her to read.” Soave met Sulkowicz a month or so before at another libertarian happy hour. Initially bewildered, he warmed to her, finding her to be inquisitive and even fun to talk to. “We exchanged contact information,” he tells me later, “and talked about maybe becoming, I guess, friends or something?” He laughs incredulously as he says this, sounding a bit on edge.

As Sulkowicz swirls around the party, her presence stirs an obvious question: whether this is performance art. Soave brings it up twice when we speak on the phone afterward, acknowledging the possibility that he’s being set up. While he’s inclined to believe that Sulkowicz is moved by earnest curiosity, he’s aware of her background in “elaborately planned performance art” and her reputation as a provocateur. Since graduating from Columbia in 2015, Sulkowicz has done around a dozen performances touching on issues like consent, anti-institutionalism, climate change, trauma, wellness, and female sexual desire. It’s natural to wonder if she’s currently breaking bread with this crowd to lampoon civility politics or to expose views she hates. Honestly, it might be harder to believe that she’s simply trying to learn.

But Sulkowicz is adamant that this isn’t performance. In fact, she insists that she’s quitting art altogether. After one of our lunches, she bikes off to return the keys to her studio, which she’s emptied and swept clean. “For many years,” she explains, “I wasn’t interested in listening to other points of view. I was very emotional and making performance-art pieces that were very reactionary and fiery.” Without disowning them, she describes these artworks as something she “got out of her system.”

Having found the art world humorless, narrow-minded, and grotesquely competitive, Sulkowicz says she stopped making art about a year ago. She quit a fellowship at a museum, ceased teaching art classes, and was essentially unemployed for a time, drawing income from occasional speaking gigs, mostly about campus sexual assault. (Her remarks on Me Too have been fewer; she supports it, but wants a clearer path to forgiveness.) She has been working on a memoir that draws on her diaries from Mattress Performance, and last month, she started a full-time, four-year master’s program in traditional Chinese medicine. There, she’ll learn skills from acupuncture to herbalism, which have been her “personal healing modality” for years. Sulkowicz has parried assumptions that this is performance art, too. It grates on her. “I’m a human and humans can change,” she says, insistently. “I’m telling you that I don’t want to make art anymore.”

But in some ways, it’s easier to assume that Sulkowicz’s political posture is performance art: this provides a clear motive, one that’s politically straightforward. If Sulkowicz is not making art, then it’s much harder to grasp why she’s doing this and what it means. Part of the confusion, Sulkowicz assumes, springs from a pervasive misunderstanding about who she is, rooted in the dissonance between her public image and private consciousness. While many assume she’s at Soave’s book party for some admixture of art and progressive politics, Sulkowicz says she’s mostly there for fun.

[prorevenge]

Boy meets girl

I often pressed V for information on how she earned income but she would give conflicting answers about grants and scholarships until one day.... About 6 months after our first meeting, she finally tells me and IT. IS. NOT. GOOD. I was interviewing at a professional school when I receive the call, she's in trouble, BIG TROUBLE, and needs my help. She tells me she earns money by doing others' assignments for them. $200 to write a paper and $800 to complete an online class, usually a 100 level introductory course. She describes the method she uses to circumvent the ITs detection of others completing others assignment and how her client wasn't doing his part to copy/paste and submit from his own computer. He is failing the course and blames her. He threatens to turn her in. Her plan is to refund his money and wants me to 'follow him to see if he goes somewhere alone and take his phone' because that has all the evidence of their communications. HOLY SHIT! SHE WANTS ME TO COMMIT STRONG ARMED ROBBERY, a FELONY for her! I'm not going down for this or with her and I know nobody would believe me. ENTER: military experience - if there's no record, it didn't happen. So, I agree to help her, somehow, as soon as I return to town. I go to V's dorm the next night and she shows me EVERYTHING. Her list of clients, their blackboard passwords, how she meets them, how she defends them during honor code violations, etc. So I tell her not to worry, I'll handle everything on the day she refunds his money. Relieved, she goes to bed but before she lays down I ask to use her computer for on assignment and she says "sure do whatever you want". In my state, if you let someone use your electronics, its called "having privilege" and anything you do with their computer which may harm them is legal as if it your own computer. So, I took screenshots of her conversations with her clients, I open google settings and screenshot all the blackboard users and passwords stored on her computer. I go to her messenger and screenshot their conversations. Back home, I compiled our recordings and saved our facebook conversations. A week later, I made up an argument about an upcoming New Years Party and broke up with her. Then sat on the information I had on hand for 2 more weeks thinking about what I should do.

I remembered how she has a history of arrests from high school to freshman year for stealing from outlet malls and selling their loot online. Never formally charged. She, of course, omitted this from her application into professional school. How she admitted "finding a mark" and using them to pass her courses. How she denigrated others who were completing courses through hard work. How she used her position as honor council to get her friends out of trouble while helping to expel others for doing exactly what she was doing. How she cheated on me multiple times, used me, manipulated me, tried to make me commit a felony and ruin my life. SHE HAD TO BE STOPPED.

Knowing she was friends with the faculty on the honor council, they often bought each other gifts, I had to go above their heads. I gave names and descriptions of the events to my program director. He then goes to the honor council, anyway. I was called into the honor council's head office of "Corrupt Administrator" CA. CA tells me I should delete the information I have because it could become a civil matter and I should consider my "self preservation." She schedules another meeting with me a week later. I return and she asks if I want to make a statement about V. Guess what I said, I tell her "no, I deleted everything and I don't remember" because I was in the military and I know how to 'play ball' when superiors tell you to shut your mouth. But the most important reason I decided to not file against V directly was due to the fact I was applying for a military scholarship to pay for professional school. Since I did not follow through, the program director filed an honor code violation complaint against V on a date [suggested by CA]. A month later they tell me their investigation was inconclusive and they will close the case due to the director waiting 1 day too long to file according to the school's academic policy. CA set us up! However, since the director used my name as a source, they must notify V because students have rights to know their accusers. FUCK.MY.LIFE. CA fucked me and ruined any chance for a case against V based on a technicality. Now I fear for my safety because V tried to get me to strong arm rob someone now I just implicated a dozen cheaters who have as much as her to lose. CA schedules a meeting with V and tell her about an ongoing investigation and tells her she will be kept up-to-date. I know the investigation is over and now they are just doing formalities. V requests the information of the investigation and they promise to email it to her. V calls me for support even though we aren't together. She is crying and talking about killing herself. She tells me her dad had been paying for her college this whole time and starts coming clean with other lies. I feel bad and almost regret everything. Maybe she is not a sociopath, maybe she is really sorry. She stays at my house the next few days, I'm watching her trying to keep it together. THEN HER FUCKING CLIENTS START COMING TO MY HOUSE. She is still doing their assignments! She NEVER LEARNS!

Finally she gets the investigation info and there's my name. She calls me 130 times in 3 days, sends her friends to my classes to tell me to come to her house, finally I do. But I don't go into her room because she will trap me. She takes my phone so I can't record. She tries to get me to sign a paper saying I fabricated everything and its all false. I tell V, "They already closed the investigation, you wont get in any trouble why should I implicate myself and get in trouble? It wont solve anything!" And she pleads, "Do you still love me?" I shake my head and walk out. Two days later, police are waiting at my house to serve a 72 hour emergency protective order (EPO) commanding me to stay away from V. I know what she is up to. She is trying to get me to violate the protective order, discredit me, and send me to jail. Its very easy to lie to create one and lie to say it was violated.

NOW ITS NOT JUST REVENGE TIME, ITS WAR

Here's the plot twist: I never really deleted the files as I told CA. TYVM, Google drive.

After the 72 hours EPO expired, another EPO arrives which lasts two years but requires a court appearance. This is a huge problem because I am in the US Army reserves and it requires the handling of firearms which is illegal under an EPO. Her lawyer calls me and threatens me not to "participate in anymore investigations against her" and sends a paper tiger. I get a lawyer, lets name him "Folds like a lawn chair". He tells me "who will they believe: a pretty girl or you?" I fire him. Get a better lawyer, a trial lawyer, called "Miss Badass Esq." and prepare for war. Miss Badass requests a copy of V's EPO from the court. It essentially says I was blackmailing her, threatening to beat her up, and I broke into her room to steal incriminating information against her. All lies. I provide my lawyer the entire history of our relationship: 600 pages of facebook and text messages showing she is the aggressor, the abuser, in the relationship, phone call history, all the recordings and screenshots of her cheating ring. I make a poster sized chart of her room and the events that transpire there the day in question when she tried to trap me into signing a statement taking responsibility for her actions.

Courtdate: We made V and her lawyer look REALLY stupid. They were going with the 'pretty girl' strategy. But the dorm gave us records showing she was signing me in and out of her room, so it discredits the need to break in. The call logs: 130 times in 3 days and aggressive texts showed she wasn't actually afraid of me adn it was her, not me, being aggressive. And when he asked what I had to use to blackmail her, her lawyer said "just some tutoring papers" for which the judge said, "that doesn't sound like anything wrong. What power did that give him over you?" They had no response. My turn to speak, I explain how she tried to get me to rob a guy, how she wanted me to write a letter to take the blame, how she used her position as honor council chair to break state law and violate academic policy. And summarized we were only there because she wanted revenge on me. I watched V and her lawyer stutter and squirm uncomfortably under the judges questioning, case dismissed.

All that information I gathered to defend myself was not going to go to waste. I took it to a newly hired honor council investigator called "Meg" who had no affiliation with V. I told her what CA had done to defend V. A week later, I was told the by Meg there had been a meeting with the school police, the provost, their legal team, then the provost himself decided filed a complaint against V. I had to meet with the police to file a statement about V trying to recruit me to rob someone but other than that I was out of the loop. I later learned the results: V lost her her slot at that school's professional program, her program director yelled at her at the top of his lungs, "YOU WILL NEVER GO TO ********* SCHOOL, I KNOW ADMISSIONS AND I WILL SEE TO IT", she got expelled, her TWO degrees (biomedical engineering and biology with a minor in chemistry) were withheld for 6 years and her transcripts would carry a permanent mention of an honor code violation, her clients who graduated had their degrees retracted with similar mentions on their transcripts, and current clients were also expelled. The school changed its policy on reporting date requirements to like 60 or 90 days. Me? I am in professional school. V had her chance to get away with all of this until she tried to get revenge on me. I reduced this super villain from owning a fleet of beta male minions, being the most connected person in the university, and having a lucrative future in ripping people off in the medical industry to the last time I saw her: riding a fucking scooter.

(source) story by (/u/Apophis1942)